#and to remember God is so much higher than my ideas of him and that's a good thing

[theragamuffininitiative]

Things that happened at church today:

I was running late by several minutes. To one of the fullest services of the year. One lady who was leaving from early service told me "I probably don't need to tell you that you're late!" to which I replied laughing with embarrassment, "I know!" so that she then immediately tried to reassure me, "not that late though!" So cheers to her for trying to find the line between church grandmother and church bestie this morning.

The priest talked about the marriage feast of the Lamb and how Scripture describes heavenly wine, "to which all the Anglicans said, 'Amen!'" and everyone laughed, but not as hard as I, the recently ex-baptist, did.

A deacon I didn't know did the Gospel reading and I was amused and bemused by how her accent shifted from a southern drawl to a very proper British accent, and I was questioning her choice of faking an accent when she was doing it badly, until I found out she is South African and suddenly everything made so much more sense.

The sermon was on the Magnificat and specifically on Mary's perspective of God's promises and their fulfillment and how we should emulate this posture of praising God how he is *going* to move rather than just how he *has* moved.

We also sang multiple songs that focused on Mary and again my ex-baptist self had to come to terms with that, but tbh mostly I am grateful for all these things working in tandem to remind me of a bigger, more gracious God than I have let myself believe in before, and how he has delighted to work through and honor women.

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

in the refrigerator light

summary: you are somehow unprepared to run into Logan while on the quest for a midnight snack... in the house you both live in. wc: 1.9 k a/n: to be fair I did warn you that this would happen. I have a few more ideas kicking around in my head, but feel free to send requests if you have any! this doesn't take place during any particular movie, fyi, but you and Logan are both teaching at the school warnings: fluffy fluff, mutant!reader, empathic powers!reader, soft!Logan

You should have been asleep. Even after choosing to stay on at the school past your education, you’d had a hard time shaking habits of the past. It still felt strange to walk freely into professor only areas, and you were always in bed by 11:00 pm every night. Sneaking down to the kitchen to steal one of the chocolate bars you knew Scott had stashed deep in the back of a cabinet felt wrong, but the siren song was too strong to resist. 

You’d been quiet, making sure to avoid the creaky stair (third from the bottom on the right) before shuffling into the kitchen. You rubbed at your eyes as you made your way to the proper cabinet. The only problem being that it was much higher up than you remember. It was times like these that made you wish for a more helpful mutation, like telekinesis or at least a few extra inches of height. You struggled for a few moments, on your tippy toes, stretching your arm as far as you could reach before you gave up. You sighed, raking your hands through your hair and making your peace with the fact that chocolate was not in your future tonight. 

“Scoot over, bub.” You jumped and let out a small shriek, before clasping a hand over your mouth. It was rare that anyone got the drop on you these days, your power more finely tuned and emotions tending to be strong around the manor, but your guard was decidedly down in the place you’d called home for so many years. But Logan was an exception to many rules. HIs hand gently gripped your wrist, pulling you against his chest for a brief moment before moving to stand in front of the cabinet. He reached up into the cabinet, the zip up hoodie he wore pulling up to expose a few inches of his stomach before pulling down a few bars of chocolate with ease. He smiled, the crinkles by his eyes more prominent in the low light of the kitchen. You did your best to appear like you hadn’t just been ogling him. 

“How did you know-”

“Scott’s shit at secrets.” He huffed, rolling his eyes. “You think he’d learn by now to not be such a loud mouth in a house full of people with enhanced hearing”. 

Your laugh was quiet, muffled by your hand in the interest of not waking the others. “Well, in that case, I hope one of those is for me.” 

Logan shrugged, eyes full of mirth. “What’ll you give me for it?” 

You blinked, unsure of yourself. You weren’t used to this Logan, yet. He was usually gruff and reserved, always reluctant to give into the kids in his history class that were trying to derail the lesson with a joke or two. He’d been playful a few times in your presence, and it almost always made you worried that the other shoe was about to drop. Seeing him in pajama pants and a soft grey sweatshirt only added to the strangeness situation. 

For the briefest moment, you considered using your powers. A single touch and you would know exactly how he was feeling. It was a blessing and a curse, to be able to be sure of how others were feeling with a single touch. A god-send on intel gathering or stealthy missions, a terrible temptation at midnight alone in the kitchen of the manor with the man you had harbored a crush on for as long as you’d known him. You make to grab one of the bars out of his hand, but he is too fast for you, quickly lifting them over his head. Your eyes narrowed. 

Fine, two can play at this game. You roll your shoulders back, drawing up your courage. “Depends what you want for it.” 

Logan grinned, dropping his arms and holding the bars behind his back. “Well, what I don’t want is to be an accomplice in your quest for cavities. Chuck’d have my head if he found out I had a part to play.”  

“I’m a big girl, Logan. I can take care of myself” You grab for the chocolate, but he’s too quick for you. For a brief moment, the two of you stare at each other, the moment charged. You lunged for the chocolate again, but Logan is already halfway across the kitchen, waving the chocolate around teasingly. 

“Logan, please” you laugh, following around the island. He cocked his head to the side, smirk playing at the corner of his lips. You were seconds away from stomping your foot and demanding he hand the chocolate over, when his smirk grew into a grin. 

“Alright bub,” he made his way around the island, depositing one of the chocolate bars in your hand. “You know I can’t say no to you.” 

You did your best to tamp down the butterflies that suddenly made a home in your stomach, but his smile was so gentle and he looked so soft, it was hard not to feel a little lovestruck. You snapped a piece of the bar off, and held it out to him. You dutifully busied yourself with breaking off a piece for yourself, ignoring the way that his affectionate gaze seemed to never leave you. 

“You’re not usually up this late,” he says, holding his hand out for another piece. You shrug, dropping another section into his hand. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” 

“Welcome to the club.” You knew that Logan had trouble sleeping, he was usually the first one hunched over a cup of coffee in the mornings, steadfastly ignoring inquiries into how he slept. 

“I, um” You hesitated. Usually offers of using your powers didn’t go well. You took a breath, steadying yourself. The worst he could say was no, right? “I could help with that, if you want.” 

Logan reached out, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You could tell your eyes were the size of saucers, but you couldn’t find words. After a few moments, Logan took a step back, shaking his head slightly. You blinked owlishly, taking a breath to steady yourself. 

“That’s sweet of you, bub. But I wouldn’t want to tucker you out.” It was no secret around the house that although you had a less physical mutation, it still took some of your energy. Sensing emotions was as natural as breathing, but influencing them was newer, and took much more focus. 

You pointedly glanced at the clock over the stove, noting that it was well past any reasonable bedtime, before facing Logan once more. “That actually sounds really nice.” He mumbled something about not wanting to take advantage of you, but the words died in his throat when your hand found his own. You looked up at him through your lashes, hoping that he would be able to see how earnest you were being. “I don’t want to force you, but I want to be asleep more than anything, and I can tell that you are too wound up about something to even begin to fall asleep.” 

His thumb stroked over the back of your hand a few times, before he stepped around you and led you out of the kitchen. You expected him to turn towards the living room, where you’d caught him ‘resting his eyes’ a few times in the middle of the day. Instead, he turned right making sure to skip the creaky stair (third from the bottom on the right) and right up to the door of your room. 

“A bit presumptuous, no?” You asked, before opening the door and walking through. 

Logan rolled his eyes, leaning against your doorframe. “I was there the first time you tried this. Figured it was best that no one has to pick you up off the floor.” 

You felt your face grow hot, remembering the unmitigated disaster that had occurred the first time Charles suggested that this application of your powers was a possibility. Your chin tilted up, doing your best to project confidence. “Well, it’s been a while since then, I’ve gotten better.” 

If the lighting had been better, you would have seen the faintest pink blush coloring his cheeks. “Rogue’s in my room.” You couldn’t help it, your eyebrows shot up near your hairline. “She and Bobby got into a fight, she wanted somewhere she would be left alone.” His hands were twisting in the pockets of his sweatshirt as he ducked his head down low. 

“Is that why you were prowling around the kitchen?” He rolled his eyes, but nodded all the same. “Well, do you wanna stay here tonight?” He looked like he was about to object, but you held your hand up, effectively silencing him. “You’re doing a favor for Rogue, let me do one for you.” 

“Thought you were already doin’ me a favor, sweetheart.” He protested, all while moving towards your bed. 

You perched on the edge of your bed, consciously doing your best to keep your heart rate in check. The students always joked that between Charles and Jean’s mind reading and Logan being able to hear cheaters hearts speeding up, it wasn’t even worth it to try and cheat in class. It hadn’t occurred to you that if he could hear your heart fluttering, he could definitely hear the measured deep breaths you were taking to mitigate the issue. 

You reached for his hand, and he accepted it readily. His palm was shockingly smooth under yours, it must be from his regenerative powers. Your thumb gently ran across his knuckles, still slightly red from the training session he’d had with some of the students earlier in the day. You tugged on his arm slightly, and he lowered himself down onto the bed beside you. “I thought that it’s important to work as a team, sometimes.” 

“You spyin’ on me, bub?” You sheepishly meet his eyes, but find nothing but tenderness waiting for you. “I’ll try to forgive you.” He drops a kiss on your knuckles, before motioning for you to lay down. “I’ll take the floor.” 

You tightened your grip on his hand. If he really wanted to, he could have broken away easily. Instead, he paused, eyebrows raised and waiting for an explanation. “Not much of a favor if your back hurts in the morning from sleeping on the floor” you shrugged. 

“Only if you’re sure-”

“Just get in the damn bed Logan.” He grinned, pulling back the covers and slipping into the bed. You followed shortly after, and slipped your hand back into his. The both of you laid in silence for a few moments, adjusting to your new arrangement. You were nice and toasty warm, able to feel the heat radiating off him under the covers. You were in the middle of working up the courage to actually use your powers, when soft snores began to emanate from the other side of the bed. You chanced a glance towards him only to find his lashes gently fanned out over his cheeks, and his chest rising and falling with his steady breathing. 

After a few moments, you followed him into dreamland. In the morning, you woke up with his arm firmly around your waist, feeling fully rested for one of the first times in your life. Again, you waited for the awkwardness to come, for your face to flush and your stammer to pick back up, but you were left waiting.

feedback is very much appreciated, as I’ve never written for Logan before! let me know what you think <3

next part

[s0dium]

Douchebag

A/n: This is honestly the BEST fic I've ever written! I took a lot from prompts I found on this site and the smut scene is inspired from a book called "The Kiss Quotient." (It was just so damn good). This fanfic is also inspired by my original fanfic, "Douchebag" Tengen x Reader. ALSO, I AM WORKING ON YUTA FICS, SO DON'T WORRY! Word count: 3.5k

Synopsis: Gojo Satrou was a man of many things. It would be hard to find anyone in the jujutsu world who hadn’t heard of his name before, whether that be through his many wins in battle or his reputation as an A-class player. Some describe him as eccentric, and others (mostly girls) describe him as irresistible. You? Well, you on the other hand would describe him as nothing else than an utter, complete,  douchebag. Warnings: Enemies to lovers,  teasing, fingering, intense kissing for a sec, squirting, use of pet names, belly bulge, cervix fucking, breeding kink, virgin!reader, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, choking ~

You scoffed, watching through the classroom window as a clearly frustrated old man stormed out of the building, no doubt a higher up. No doubt the work of Gojo Satoru. "God I hate him." You hissed, turning to face a dozing-off Shoko and your other friend Haibara. The classroom you sat in was almost empty, bathed in the soft light of midday filtering through large windows. Sparse shadows stretch across the well-worn wooden floor. Rows of desks, mostly unoccupied, face a dusty chalkboard at the front. "Who Satoru?" Shoko yawned, leaning into the palm of her hand to face you. Haibara lets out a loud chuckle. "Why? Because he's an ass to higher-ups?" He nods to the window and you click your tongue against the rough of your mouth. "No, it's because he is an ass in general. His whole 'holier than thou' attitude, and don't get me started on the way he treats girls." You practically shiver as you remember the time you saw some poor girl from Kyoto Jujutsu High profess her love to the white hair man, only to run away sobbing. "I swear to god it's like he expects us to kiss the floor that he walks on, he's.... infuriating" "Who's infuriating?" Oh god, you knew that stupidly deep voice anywhere. You whipped around to find yourself face to face with the very tall white-haired man you were talking about; a shit-eating grin spread across his infuriatingly handsome face.

“You couldn't be talking about me, could you?” Satoru's voice dripped faux shock and you rolled your eyes.

“Well you know what they say, speak of the devil and he shall appear.” You spat.

“That must be why you love using that pretty mouth of yours to talk about me so much.” Satoru lowered himself to close the provoking height difference between the two of you until your noses were inches away from touching. “Cause ya love having me around  doncha.”

In that moment you have to conjure up every ounce of self-restraint to not spit in his face there and then, and luckily your friends catch the drift. "Hey Satoru! What are you doing here?" Perked up Haibara who reached out his hand to dap Gojo up. "Well, Suguru and I are heading for a night out today, small club, and I thought, out of the kindness of my heart," You scoff and Gojo merely grins and continues, "I'd invite you all. Drink on me of course." As Satrou's invitation lingered in the air, you noticed Shoko's ears perk up. Her curiosity was piqued, a subtle lift of her eyebrows betraying her interest. You bit your tongue, the taste of reluctance sharp against your teeth. The idea of going anywhere with Satrou was far from appealing, but knowing your friends might join made it harder to outright refuse.

You crossed your arms defensively, leaning back slightly as you fixed Satrou with a skeptical look. "And why would you want me there?"

Satrou's lips curled into a half-smirk, his eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint."You're annoying, I'll give you that," He took a casual step closer, and leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, "but I never said you weren't fun."

His words, intended to irk you, did their job well. You glared at him sharply, the frustration evident in your furrowed brows and the hard set of your jaw.

Satrou chuckled.

“Great, I’ll take that as a yes then, I'll text you guys the details.” He turns around to walk out of the classroom. “See you guys there!”

There was a silence as you all watched Satrou walk away before Haibara turns to look at you. “So are you going to go y/n? Come on it will be so much fun!”

“Yeah no way in hell.”

~ You were a liar. You were a liar because here you were, leaning over the counter of a bar in a club that was far from "small." The nightclub was a pulsing, chaotic hive of activity. Neon lights flashed in syncopation with the deafening throb of electronic dance music that shook the very air. The club was jam-packed with bodies moving rhythmically, the heat from the mass of humanity palpable as the scent of sweat and sweet perfumes mingled. The bar surface was sticky under your arms, and the occasional spill from a too-hastily poured drink added to the chaos of sounds and smells around you. You lazily stirred the thin red straw into your drink, trying to politely ignore the creep who wouldn't stop talking to you.

Somehow, in the maze of gyrating bodies and blinding strobe lights, you had lost both Shoko and Haibara, leaving you stranded at the mercy of this clueless conversationalist. Despite the roar of bass and the chatter of dozens of conversations, his words seemed to bore into your ears, relentless and unyielding. He leaned in closer than necessary, trying to make himself heard over the club's cacophony, not realizing or perhaps not caring, that you were more interested in plotting an escape than in anything he had to say. "And might I say you look gorgeous tonight." It took everything you had not to scoff at this creep's words, but before you should shut the man down, you felt an arm wrap around you. "Everything alright love?" Oh god. You knew that voice anywhere. As you turned, you were met by Satrou's piercing blue eyes, their color vivid even behind stylish rectangular sunglasses. The multicolor flashing lights overhead caught in the threads of Satrou’s light blue button-up, making it shimmer subtly, and the fabric clung just right to his broad shoulders and tapered waist, hinting at the well-defined physique beneath. You hated the fact that your brain immediately noted how damn good he looked. His arm was wrapped around your waist drawing you close and you had to bite your tongue from frowning at the pet name he had given you As he leaned in, his voice was low, a soft murmur over the noise of the club, "This guy bothering you baby?" His tone was teasing, and you could detect the challenge in it, as if daring you to admit that his closeness and pet names affected you just as much as he knew it did. "Of course I'm fine baby!" You smile brightly and for a second you think Satrou looked a bit taken aback. If playing along got you out of this situation so be it. "This guy, I'm sorry, what's your name?" You glance back at the creep who had turned bright red. "I'm sorry, excuse me." You watched as the man disappeared into the throng of the bustling crowd, your attention fixed until he was well out of sight. Only then did you turn back to Satrou, the false warmth on your face instantly transforming into a cold, hard glare.

"Thanks for that, but you can get your hand off me now," you said, your voice icy as you tried to wriggle out of his hold. Despite your efforts, Satrou’s grip on your waist remained firm, unyielding.

"And why should I? I think we made a fantastic couple," Satrou cooed, a teasing lilt in his voice. His eyes sparkled with amusement, clearly enjoying the moment far more than you.

You rolled your eyes, exasperation seeping through. "You really think I would fall for something like that?"

"Why? Did you?" he probed further, his smile widening, eyes searching yours for any sign of genuine affect. Anger started to boil up inside you as your attempts to escape his grasp remained futile.

"I don't think you understand the dynamic here very well, Satoru," you began, your voice low and deliberate, each word punctuated for emphasis. You stepped closer, invading his space as much as he had invaded yours, your eyes never leaving his. "Let me make this crystal clear, I'm not someone you can just fucking conquer, and I'm certainly not one of those girls who's gonna kiss the ground you walk on with your whole 'I'm the strongest' act," you seethed.

Your face was mere inches from his now, your breath mingling, the tension palpable. "Because I know what you really are, Satrou," you hissed, the anger in your voice barely contained. "You're a fucking douche bag." "Oh? Is that so."

Satrou's expression shifted subtly, the amusement fading into something more measured, more cautious. He studied you for a moment and you took the chance to wiggle out of his grasp and make your way through the crowd on the dance floor toward the door. The beat of the music pounds in your ears and throughout your body making your synapses jump like beans in a tin can. You can barely see the floor, only flashes of bodies you frantically tried to push past. Before you can make it to the back door, a hand grips your wrist tightly enough to halt your forward rush. Above the din of the pulsating music and amidst the strobe-lit shadows of dancing figures, Satoru's face comes into view. You feel your breath catch in your throat. God his is beautiful. Strobe lights catch and accent every one of his sharp features alighting them in a multicolor color hue. He pulls your wrist to him so you're close, too close. You can smell the old spice shampoo from his hair mixed in with some sort of sweet cologne. It's a smell that makes you want to bury your nose into him over and over again. "Jesus fucking Christ y/n" he breathed his eyes searching yours. "How long are we going to keep this thing of ours going?" You furrowed your eyebrows. “Our thing? What thing?”

“The thing where we act like we hate each other but actually want to fuck the brains out of each other.” Your eyes widen and you feel your face grow deathly hot. You try to step back, get some space, some room to breathe, but the hand on your wrist keeps you from doing so

“I-fuck you” the words come out of your mouth more soft and meager than you intended to, and you find yourself locked into his blue gaze.

“Believe me, I've thought about it.” His voice is low, and his face isn't painted with a shit-eating grin like it so usually is, he's serious and his eyes are soft. Fuck it. You can no longer hear the lyrics to whatever song was playing, only a soft dull hum of the beat in your ears. Immediately your lips are on his. The kiss is frantic, hot, messy. The club's pulse thrummed through you like a second heartbeat, the noise and chaos all but forgotten in the singular focus of his presence. You could feel one of his large hands on the small of your back, drawing you in until there was no space left between the both of you. Your mouths clashed against each other as if you were both seeking something vital, something long-denied. Satoru's lips were insistent against yours, moving with a fervor that matched the pounding bass surrounding you. You whined as his tongue slipped into your mouth, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the firm press of his chest against yours. The scent of his cologne mixed with the smoky air around us, intoxicating and heady.

Your mouths separated with a soft pop, and Satoru is grinning while you're left dazed, breath heavy and chests rising and falling after it. "How bout you say we get out of here Princess."Gojo's voice was a low murmur, his breath warm against your ear as you broke from the intense kiss.

Before you could even respond, a dizzying rush enveloped you. The loud club vanished in an instant, replaced by the quiet, dimly lit ambiance of his bedroom. You were suddenly on his bed, the soft duvet beneath you a stark contrast to the hard dance floor we'd just left. Right, he can teleport. You forgot about that. Wait was he... where are you going to... Before you can get a word in, he’s once again engulfing your lips with his and pulling you into a feverish kiss in which the two of you can’t seem to get enough of each other. The moment one pulls away to breathe, the other is immediately searching for their lips again; intertwining tongues and teeth clashing together recklessly.

Your hot, everything is hot, your body is burning up by the second and there’s a sickly sweet feeling in your stomach that keeps on expanding as time passes. You whine into his mouth when you feel a hand slip under your skirt and lightly trace the outline of your slit with his index finger. You're painfully wet; your arousal has made a large spot on your underwear translucent. “Just touch me,’ you whined, arching impatiently against his hand. He couldn’t make either of you wait any longer. Slowly, he brought his middle finger down and slid it gently over her folds. You threw your head back. "Ahhhh, more please." He did it again, this time his fingertip slipping between and gathering your wetness. He parted you with two fingers. You let out a gasp when he hit your clit and started to rub it in small circles. You tried to say something, anything to explain how hot you were feeling right now, but your words were lost against his soft lips. The taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of him so close against you, skin to skin. Time and space had no meaning anymore. There was only you and Satrou.

“You feeling good baby? Satrou speaks slowly, breath on your neck and voice in your ear making you shiver. You bite your lip and nod like any words that came from you would ruin it. You almost wince when you feel two fingers slip into your tight hole. "Jesus, fuck. You gotta relax princesses." He chuckled, knowing far to well that the tightness was going to feel delicious around him. Two fingers worked into you, and your eyes rolled back into your head. He began a steady rhythm as his tongue nipped and sucked the tender skin of your neck. You couldn’t prevent her hips from rising to meet his thrusts. Oh God, you were riding his hand. That had to be bad. You told herself to stop. You couldn’t. Somehow, you found your hands tangled in his short white hair. Your body was coiled tighter, grasping at his fingers, so wet now you could hear the slippery sounds every time he drove back into you. "Hnghhh.... so good." You squeezed your eyes type, becoming focused on the tightening feeling of your core and the blossoming warm pleasure. Your legs started to tremble under the unbearable pleasure and your back arched against the bed as if your body was trying to escape the euphoric feeling that coursed through your skin. "That’s it, fuck, beautiful girl... such a natural submissive...." You want to tell him he's wrong, all this pleasure wasn't because of his egotistic ass, but it'd be a lie. And as if on command, all feelings come to a heightened crescendo; explosions of euphoria clouding your brain causing your toes to curl from pleasure and your body to shake like a leaf.

It takes a couple seconds after you calmed down to realize you squirted all over Satoru's hand and all blood rushes to your face turning you a bright red.

“Oh my god in so sorry I didn’t-”

Your voice dies out as you watch Satrou pull off his shirt, revealing his extremely built body and toned muscles, to wipe the liquid off his hand. You don’t even notice that he had pulled out his dick until you feel something pressing against your entrance, making you look down and your eyes widen as you do so. Your stomach inwardly twisted,  filled with the sickly excitement and your breathing started to quicken. "Shhhhh baby," Satoru cups your cheek and kisses your forehead. It was a sweet gesture despite everything happening right now, a gesture that made your heart swell and your mind yearn for Satoru. The stretch of his dick spreading your walls is insane. No amount of preparation could've prepared you for the length of Satoru's dick. You feel it heavy inside you and Satrou pushes into you until he can't push anymore, until his hips are flush against you and the tip of his length is smushed against your cervix. The pleasure of that alone felt numb, unbearable, you needed friction, you needed him to move. You practically faint when he first thrusts into you in earnest. It's euphoric; the curvature of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls every time he backed his hips up. His cock pulsed inside of your silky walls, stretching you to the fullest capacity as he bottomed out again and again. "Oh fuck." Satrou groaned. He was no longer grinning, Satoru's playful resolves vanished and his smile quickly dropped. He knew you'd feel good, but he didn't expect how good you'd feel. The feeling of his hand he had fucked himself to the thought of you for so many nights was nothing compared to the real thing. It was too much, the feeling of your wet soft walls gripping him so tightly. How was he able to live without your pussy in the first place? The pleasure built rapidly, too potent, too insistent. He kneeled over you, a groan escaping his lips—a raw, primal sound that vibrated through the charged air between you. Satorus thrust your quick and hard, a clear display of strength and endurance he had gained from years of jujutsu training. "Been thinking about this, so long, bet you have to have ya~"

As Satrou's long, deliberate fingers encircle your neck, a thrilling chill races down your spine. He applies pressure gently at first, then with a firmer, insistent grip that gradually restricts your airflow, sending a wave of exhilaration through your senses. The world around you narrows, focusing intently on the point where his skin contacts yours, heightening every other sensation that courses through you. His other hand slips under your bra bra to grab and massage your breast, his thumb flicking over your nipples.

"Satoru..! Ahhhh..! I..I, fuckkkkk can't handle this.." You had no strength to answer him, only offering wanton moans in retort as he continued to wreck your body with his completely brutal thrusts. The pain of him hitting the tip of your cervix nearly every time mixed with his hand squeezing your throat it was just all too much.

Satoru. Satoru. Satoru

"Slow down.. please im gonna ahhhh~" Drool slipped passed your lips and you writhed and squirmed at the feeling of hot euphoria passed over your body in flesh arrow. "Gonna cum? Fuck baby, let's... let's come together m'kay?" Satrou almost stuttered. His body had kicked into autopilot, and a deep primal need for you settled in as he thrust in and out, creating a methodical rhythm that echoed in your ears. Your ankles lock around his lower back and you cry out when the head of his cock kisses your womb, your legs shaking as you feel yourself start to be thrown into an intense orgasm. You want to say something about the weird feeling in your stomach, how your skin is buzzing but it's all too much, and before you know it your tumbling toward the edge. It feels like your whole body was shot with electricity and color dances in your eyes as you float in ecstasy.

"Sh-Shit, shit, fuuuuck~" He chuckles into your ear, choking over his words as his hips sputter inside of you, hot cum fills you as much as you can hold inside of your stuffed cunny. Satoru doesn't pull out as you both come down from your high, instead watching you intently as you ride through the aftershocks of your orgasm. "Wanna do this again?" He chuckles.

"Fuck, yes, please."

[pickingupmymercedes]

Salt and Starlight - Lewis Hamilton

Lewis's 40th birthday special part 1

warnings: none

genre: fluff

wordcount: +2k

a/n: It's a '3 times y/n's made Lewis feel like a teenager (on the brink of turning 40) and the one time he did' (except that last bit is the part 2 coming later)

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

What do you give someone who has it all? He is Lewis Hamilton, after all.

I’d been asking myself that question for weeks.

Lewis isn’t exactly the kind of guy who needs another watch, another car, or another piece of art for his collection.

He’s got it all—trophies, fame, money, and a closet full of designer clothes that probably cost more than my first car.

So, what do you give that man ?

The answer came to me one night when we were lying in bed, talking about nothing and everything.

I’d been reminiscing about growing up by the beach, about the stupid, reckless things I did as a teenager that made me feel alive. Lewis had laughed, that deep, warm laugh of his, and said, “God, it’s been years since I’ve felt anything that… teenagery.”

And there it was. My gift to him.

“Are you sure this isn’t just an elaborate ploy to embarrass me?” Lewis asks, tugging the brim of his bucket hat lower over his sunglasses. The hoodie he’s wearing makes him look like a man trying to sneak out of a high school reunion unnoticed.

Which, okay, is kind of the vibe I was going for.

The drive to Santa Barbara was… well, let’s just say Lewis loved being a passenger princess, most times, and that wasn’t one of them.

He kept fidgeting, adjusting the seat, and asking if I was sure I knew where I was going. (Spoiler: I did. Mostly.)

But by the time we pulled up to the boardwalk, the sun was setting, casting the sky in shades of pink and orange, and he finally stopped asking questions.

The amusement park was exactly how I remembered it—bright lights, the smell of cotton candy and fried food, the sound of laughter and screams from the thrill rides. It was chaos, but the good kind.

The kind that makes you feel alive.

“You’re not serious,” Lewis said, staring at the roller coaster like it might bite him.

“Oh, I’m very serious,” I said, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the line. “Come on, old man. Let’s see if you’ve still got it.”

He glances down at me, a boyish smile breaking through his mock-suspicious expression. “Always.”

And there it is—the grin I was waiting for.

The one that reminds me of the Lewis who still feels like a kid sometimes, who loves the thrill of life just as much as his achievements.

For once, Lewis doesn’t have an itinerary. No obligations, no pressures. Just us.

We hit every ride that promises to throw us around like ragdolls. Rollercoasters that make my stomach drop (and Lewis laugh at my shrieking), bumper cars where I play dirty and spin him into the wall, and that spinning thing that got me questioning my life choices.

By the time we got to the Ferris wheel, the sky was dark, the stars just starting to peek through.

The Ferris wheel was… different. Slower. Quieter.

As we climbed higher, the noise of the park faded away, and it was just us, suspended in the air. Lewis was quiet, staring out at the ocean, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d pushed him too far with this.

“This was the plan all along, wasn’t it?” he says as he leaned into me. His voice is light, but there’s that knowing look in his eyes.

I feign innocence. “What plan?”

“The Ferris wheel. The whole night was a setup for this.”

I smirk, settling into the seat beside him. “You’re giving me way too much credit.”

The wheel begins to turn, the car gently rocking as we rise above the chaos below. The lights from the boardwalk blurring, and for a moment, neither of us speaks.

The world feels smaller up here, quieter.

He shifts closer, and I can feel his gaze on me, warm and intent. “This was a good idea.”

I smiled, leaning into him. “I have those sometimes.”

And then he leans in, his lips brushing against mine.

It starts softly, like he’s savoring the moment, but it deepens quickly, and suddenly the air feels electric. My mind goes blissfully blank, except for the thought that this—this might’ve been what I wanted all along.

When we finally break apart, his forehead rests lightly against mine, and he’s grinning like a teenager who’s just stolen his first kiss. “This feels straight out of a cheesy rom-com.”

“Good,” I manage, still catching my breath. “It’s meant to.”

He laughs, and it’s the kind that bubbles out of him, genuine and unguarded. And I think, there it is again.

That boyish smile I’d give anything to keep seeing.

“You know,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “this is exactly how I imagined love when I was a teenager.”

He chuckled, his breath warm against my skin. “Yeah? Did you imagine me too?”

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. “Shut up.”

And then the Ferris wheel started moving again, and we were laughing, and for the first time in a long time, Lewis looked… free.

We were still laughing as we stumbled off the Ferris wheel, my hand in his, the cool ocean breeze brushing against our skin.

Lewis had that look in his eyes—the one he gets when he’s trying to play it cool but is secretly having the time of his life.

It’s rare, these days, to see him so unguarded.

“You know,” he said, pulling me closer as we walked, “I haven’t done anything like this in… I don’t even know how long.”

“What, ridden a Ferris wheel?” I teased, bumping my shoulder against his. “Yeah, I can tell.”

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “No, I mean… this. Just… being spontaneous. Letting go.”

I stopped walking and turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “Lewis Hamilton, are you telling me you’ve never been spontaneous? Because I find that hard to believe.”

He shrugged, that infuriatingly charming smirk playing on his lips.

“What?” I ask, bumping my shoulder against his as we weave through the crowd.

He gives me a sideways glance, lips twitching like he’s holding back a laugh. “Nothing. Just you, scheming. Don’t think I don’t know you planned that whole Ferris wheel moment.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the small smile that sneaks out. “Oh, please. Like I can predict what’s going to happen in the heat of the moment.”

He hums noncommittally, but the way his hand slides into mine, fingers lacing tightly, tells me he’s not buying my act. And I’m not about to argue with him on that. Ever

We walk aimlessly for a while, the neon lights of the boardwalk fading behind us as we drift toward the quieter streets. It’s one of those perfect in-between moments—neither here nor there, where everything feels suspended, and nothing needs to make sense.

That’s when he says it.

“You know,” he starts slowly “you were right earlier. About the Ferris wheel. It did feel… teenagey.”

I smirked. “Told you.”

He hesitated, then said, ���So… what’s next?”

I blinked at him, surprised. “What do you mean, what’s next?”

He shrugged, but there was a glint in his eye that made me suspicious. “You’re the one who planned this whole thing. What’s the next stop on the nostalgia train?”

I stared at him for a moment, then grinned. “Well… there is one thing” and before I can stop myself, the words tumble out. “We should get that tattooed. Like, right now.”

For a split second, I expect him to laugh, to brush it off with a comment about how I’m clearly delirious from all the carnival food. But instead, he just raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “What, the ferries wheel?”

“No, ‘40,’” I say, half-joking, half-serious. “Something simple. For this moment, for you.”

To my surprise, he doesn’t immediately shut it down. Instead, he tilts his head, considering. “You’re serious about this?”

“I mean… why not?” I shrug, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze. “You’ve got plenty. One more won’t kill you.”

He hesitated, and I could see the wheels turning in his head.

Lewis doesn’t do things on a whim—not anymore. His tattoos are works of art, carefully planned and executed by the best artists in the world. The idea of walking into some random parlor and getting inked on a whim was probably giving him hives.

He looks at me for a moment, his expression unreadable. And then he smiles, that slow, deliberate smile that makes me feel like he’s about to say something I’m not ready for. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

“Wait, what?”

“You said it yourself. Why not?”

And just like that, we’re standing outside a tattoo parlor that looks like it hasn’t seen a renovation since the early 2000s. The buzzing sound of the needle greets us as we step inside, along with the unmistakable scent of disinfectant and a tattoo artist who looks thoroughly unimpressed with our arrival.

“What are we doing?” I whisper as Lewis fills out the paperwork, his calmness somehow making me more nervous.

“Living like teenager, apparently” he says simply, handing me the pen to fill out my form. “You know, like… spontaneous, stupid, matching tattoos. The kind you get when you’re young and dumb and think it’s a good idea.”

The design we settle on is simple: the number 40, styled in a subtle, abstract way that could mean anything to anyone else. It’s perfect.

Mine goes on my wrist, tucked just under my watch strap. His ends up near his elbow, seamlessly blending into his sleeve, the one he’s spent years building.

When it’s my turn, I flinch at the first touch of the needle, earning a quiet chuckle from Lewis. “Don’t start,” I warn, gritting my teeth as the artist works.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he says, his voice entirely too amused.

When it’s done, we step back to admire our matching tattoos. They’re small, subtle, and utterly reckless in a way that feels right.

“40,” he says, his voice soft but laced with meaning as he looks at the ink.

I glance at him, my chest tightening in a way I wasn’t expecting. “The big four-oh.” I echo.

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t look at me. “Here we go.”

I grin, nudging his arm with my shoulder. “What? It’s a big deal. A milestone. People throw whole festivals for this kind of thing. They buy sports cars.” I pause, then laugh. “Well, I guess you’ve already got the cars covered.”

“Funny,” he says, finally glancing at me. There’s a glint of amusement in his eyes, but it fades quickly, replaced by something softer, more reflective. “It doesn’t feel like a big deal. Not really. It’s just… a number.”

“Uh-huh.” I tilt my head, studying him. “And how many times have you told yourself that the past month?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Too many.”

By the time we’ve grabbed more food—a greasy basket of fries—it’s late. The boardwalk is still buzzing behind us, but we’ve drifted to the sand, away from the crowds.

The ocean stretches out before us, vast and dark, lit only by the moon and the occasional flicker of a far-off boat.

Lewis sits beside me,  his hands occasionally finding their way onto my back his hoodie pulled up against the chill of the night. I watch as he unwraps his burger with careful precision, like the fate of the world rests on not spilling ketchup.

“Not bad for a last-minute dinner date,” I say, popping a fry into my mouth.

He looks at me, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Not bad at all.”

We eat in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of the waves filling the gaps. I can feel him thinking, though.

The way his fingers drum lightly against his knee, the slight furrow in his brow—it’s all there if you know where to look.

“You’re being suspiciously quiet,” I say, nudging him lightly with my elbow.

He glances at me, a small smile playing on his lips. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

He takes a bite of his burger, chewing slowly as if buying time to form an answer. Finally, he swallows and looks out at the water. “About this. About everything, really.”

“Everything?” I echo, raising an eyebrow. “That’s… vague.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “My birthday. Turning 40.”

I pause, the fry I was about to eat halfway to my mouth. “Oh, you’re having a midlife crisis?” I grin, trying to lighten the mood.

He gives me a look—half amused, half exasperated. “I’m not having a midlife crisis.”

“Sure sounds like one.”

He laughs, but it’s softer this time, his gaze still fixed on the ocean. “It’s not that I’m worried about turning 40. I just… I don’t know. It’s a lot to think about.”

I stay quiet, letting him take his time. You don’t rush these kinds of conversations.

“It’s funny,” he continues. “I’ve spent my whole life in this sport. Every year, every decision—it’s all been about racing. And now I’m here, about to hit 40, and…” He trails off, shaking his head.

“Hm?” I prompt gently, not pushing, just giving him space.

“And I thought I’d feel more certain about where I am.” He exhales, a long, slow breath that seems to carry years of weight. “I’ve told myself so many times I wouldn’t still be racing at this age. But here I am, and I don’t want to stop. Not yet. And now, with Ferrari…”

His voice breaks off again, and I see his hand flex slightly, like he’s trying to grasp something just out of reach.

“You’re scared,” I say quietly, not as an accusation, just an observation.

He laughs, but it’s more bitter than lighthearted. “Terrified…. Not of the racing—I know I can still do that. But of… everything else. Of failing, of not being enough. Of proving the people right who think I’m too old or that I should have stopped like Nico.”

I set my burger down, leaning toward him. “You’re not afraid of proving them right, Lewis. You’re afraid you might believe them.”

That gets his attention and his gaze snaps to mine, something flashing in his eyes.

“It’s not that I doubt myself completely,” he says after a moment. “But it’s there, in the back of my mind. This little voice asking if I’m trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping away.”

I take a breath, my heart tightening at the vulnerability in his words. “You’re not just holding on. You’re still building something. And you’re allowed to want that, even at 40.”

He looks down, his jaw tightening briefly. “I want to believe that. I really do… But then I think about all the things I’ve given up along the way—time with family, relationships, moments I’ll never get back. And I wonder if it’s selfish to keep chasing a dream.”

I nod, my chest tightening. “I get it. And I think it’s good that you’re thinking about these things. It means you care.”

His head tilts slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not simple. It’s messy, and ugly, and complicated, and terrifying. But it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just watches me with an intensity that makes my chest ache.

“I’ve never been good at slowing down,” he admits finally. “Even now, there’s so much I want to do. So many dreams I’ve had since I was a kid that I’ve never had time for. And part of me wonders if I ever will.”

“You will,” I say softly. “Maybe not all of them at once. But you will. We will.”

He sighs, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he leans back on his hands, staring up at the stars. “Sometimes I wish I still had that recklessness, but with everything I know now.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works; you know that don't you, grandpa?” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckles, the sound warmer this time. “Fair point.”

After a beat, he smirks, glancing at me. “You keep calling me old though, but I don’t remember you complaining last night.”

I burst out laughing, shaking my head. “Oh, shut up. You’re ruining the moment.”

He grins, and just like that, the heaviness of the conversation lifts slightly, replaced by something lighter but no less real.

As we get up to leave, I brush the sand off my hands and glance at him. “For the record, I like vintage Ferraris better anyway.”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it. There’s another teenager dream I’ve always had.”

He laughs as he reaches for my waist, and this time, it’s full and unrestrained. The sound carries over the waves, as he turns me around on the sand and captures my lips with his once again.

There, under the moonlight I know how much I love this man—even when he’s scared, even when he’s uncertain.

Especially then.

_____________________________________________________________

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[bunny-jpeg]

love talkin', john 'soap' mactavish - you loved johnny, he was the kind of lover that would be the star of a well-made romance novel. he could be fun and cheese. but also seductive and alluring. those blue eyes on more than on occasion made your panties drop a little quicker than you hoped for. he was the type of man that left you wanting more, you could name many things you loved about johnny. from his laugh, to his caring nature, to even that stupid mohawk.

but what you loved most of all about your sweet johnny mactavish was, he was a total motor-mouth when he got in the mood.

"there she is." he cooed as he got himself between your legs. you could see his blue eyes peer over your pussy. his pupils were a bit widened from the immense lust the coursed through his body as he got ready to make you feel amazing. he wasn't one to have empty promises, he promised that it would be the oral sex of a lifetime and that meant putting his entire self into it. he kissed at the top of your pussy and the bottom of your soft stomach, "don't make girls like ya anymore. a real aphrodite." he laughed before the kisses continued. he was hard in his tight briefs, he rubbed up against the covers to get a little friction against his aching length, "saw those statues while in greece." in reference to his latest mission, "thought i saw you up there, bonnie. she had all the right curves. price thought i was losin' my head." he then licked up your pussy, he could taste your wetness and it made him shudder. only the best for him. he adored you, you were the first doll he had ever had his hands on that made him feel alive. remember when he first met you all bundled up in heavy winter clothes (it wasn't even that cold). but now there you were, laid out on your shared bed in your shared flat with johnny between your legs as he pleasured you in ways that made your heart leap. he exhaled deeply against your sex and felt a shudder of pleasure through his spine before he fully started to make-out lazily with your cunt. between heated groans, he said to you, "look at her, all ready for me. i bet ya missed me, i was only gone a week but i bet you thought about me every day. but don't worry, beautiful. i thought about every second i could." his tongue caught your clit and rubbed up against it. which made your toes curl, "thought about the girl back home and the big dinner you were gonna make me. know how to make a welcome home special." then lazily fingered you.

this wasn't about finishing as fast as possible. it was about johnny becoming familiar with your body once more. it was one thing to fist his cock to images of you, it was another thing to have you in the flesh. to see you laid out on the bed you both shared, in the home you both lived in. the nook of domesticity that you and johnny carved out. his eyes closed as he lazily made out with your achy cunt. his fingers only added additional pleasure to your heated core. he loved it, he loved you. he often wondered what god allowed you two to meet. what higher power sent an angel into johnny's life to make it so much more brighter. johnny thought he was a sinner, but it was hard not to bask in your holiness when he was sloppily making out with your heated sex. he groaned as he licked at you clit, his fingers moved at a steady pace. he could feel the want in his blood as he held onto your thighs with one hand and continued to finger you with the other. he panted heavily against you, his mouth kept running like a tap on full blast. he opened his eyes once more and eyed you, "they should be puttin' tasteful nudes of ya in every museum in the world. i want the every livin' soul to know how beauty you are." he groaned, "fuck, i love ya. ya have no idea how much you mean to me. you're beautiful in every way i can think of. it's not fair to the other girls ya know. so tone it down." he laughed as he continued to finger you. his tone was joking and he absolutely loved the feeling of your pussy around his fingers. he kissed at you pussy some more, which left you in a heated lust. you squirmed under him and let the pleasure mount in you. your beautiful moans only pulled him further in. he kissed your clit and ran his tongue across the nub as he said softly, "my beautiful, hen."

when you finally climaxed, you gripped onto his short hair. you pulled his face up against your pussy as close as it could get. your toes curled and you let out a steady stream of heavy pants and whines. the pleasure crashed over you like a heavy wave and he loved it. yes, bonnie, suffocate him with your pussy. it would be a fitting death for him. when you finally relaxed you grip on him and he could breathe properly. his eyes were darker, heavy with lust with your wetness on his nose and down his chin. he looked like an animal as he licked his lips with hunger. he gave you a stunning smile and laughed, "ya really know how to get a guy like me goin'." he moved up to his knees, you could see the dark spot in his briefs, "and while i'd love to give you pussy some more lovin'. i think i'm in need of some too." he cupped his cock. he was grinning like a fool when he said, "why don't we get the two of them acquainted again." then gave you a wink <3

[turntechcosplayer]

☆Making Mistakes: Spencer Reid x Reader

꩜✦18+ MINORS DNI✦꩜ ☆ ꩜✦18+ MINORS DNI✦꩜ ☆ ꩜✦18+ MINORS DNI✦꩜

Word Count: 3.0k

This is my second work for Kinktober (and yes I know this is ridiculous, but I've got so much more in the works now that midterms are over.) In this work, these kinks are explored:

1.) Drunk Sex 2.) Slight Dub-Con 3.) Begging 4.) Creampie

꩜✦18+ MINORS DNI✦꩜ ☆ ꩜✦18+ MINORS DNI✦꩜ ☆ ꩜✦18+ MINORS DNI✦꩜

꩜✦18+ MINORS DNI✦꩜ ☆ ꩜✦18+ MINORS DNI✦꩜ ☆ ꩜✦18+ MINORS DNI✦꩜

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

REMEMBER, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME.

"Spencer... I think we need to talk." I said into the phone. His breathing sounded uneasy and his words sounded shaky as his answer came over the line.

"Yeah...okay... I'll be up in 5 minutes."

"Okay. See you then." I answered. I hung up the phone and looked at myself in the mirror. Was I really about to do this? Could I do this? And I meant that philosophically, it was definitely against HR guidelines. My fingers tightened around the cold glass bottle in my hands as I raised it to my lips, taking a swig of the tart but not altogether unpleasant dry white wine I'd found in my fridge. I closed my eyes, attempting to settle my nerves with a slow and deliberate inhale. You can do this... He's only your coworker.... And best friend... And downstairs Neighbor... God! What was I doing? I had to call him back and tell him nevermind! We didn't need to talk after all. I would be okay. I loved being his friend. I could love him from afar. Cheer him on from the sidelines... Maybe that could be enough…

No... I knew I'd never get enough of him that way to make up for not having him in the way I needed him... What if... What if I took the mystery out of it? What if I just slept with him? Then I could have those memories to hold me over until I was dead and it wasn't my problem anymore. That could be enough... That would be enough. It had to be. It was the best compromise. I could have a piece of him. And it would be less likely to complicate things than if I were to come right out and tell him that I loved him. from the very moment I saw him. I raised the bottle to my lips again, taking another swig. I had probably drank way more than I should have. That tell-tale fuzziness began to cloud my brain in simultaneously the best and worst ways. I only knew one thing for certain in that moment... I absolutely positively could not tell him the truth of why I'd asked him up here. I heard his familiar knock on my front door. 'Shave and a haircut, two bits.' 

I gritted my teeth and headed to the door. Fate awaited me there. I placed the bottle down on the counter of my kitchen island much harder than I meant to, creating a loud clang. I grimaced and reached out for the door, shrugging my housecoat higher on my shoulders. The door opened to reveal Spencer, standing in his pajamas, robe, and the slippers I'd bought him for secret Santa at the office two Christmases ago.

"Are you...okay?" I just gestured to the bottle sitting on the counter and stepped aside, letting him enter. He came in, walking stiff and awkward, obviously not knowing why he'd been summoned. I sucked in a deep breath. You can do this. Just ask him if he'd like to have sex with you... There was just one problem. I had no idea how proposing a casual sexual encounter worked. I'd only ever had sex within a relationship... Never free-range. I screwed up my nose at that wording. Free-range... Like all my sexual encounters had been locked up in some kind of cage up until this point. Well, maybe that was one way of looking at it. This was something different. Something new to try. I wasn't doing this because I was a coward. No, I was just giving myself a new experience. A new adventure. This was empowering. 

Spencer's hair was wet. He must've had a shower no more than 10 minutes ago. A small water droplet fell from one of his gorgeous locks and cascaded down his forehead as if it were on a crusade of sorts. He raised his hand to wipe it away and I noticed he'd been staring at me. Probably thinking I was some kind of nutcase. My hand slowly reached out without my telling it to do so, taking his as I took a slow step closer.

"(Y/n)..." He questioned. 

"Spencer..." I whispered back. His eyes fluttered down to my lips. His eyelashes seemed impossibly long and his gaze felt hot on my skin. 

"(Y/n)..." His breath clouded my senses. Oh God... 

"Spencer..." I whined, turning my eyebrows up.

"You're drunk..." He whispered, leaning down closer to my lips.

"True." I answered, my lips ghosting over his as I spoke. Was I really doing this?

"Tell me what I'm doing here." He murmured. I wanted so desperately just to spill everything. To tell him how I felt. To tell the truth no matter what it cost me. But I just couldn’t…

"To quell my curiosity" I whispered. I interlaced our fingers and my breath caught in my throat as his other hand laid on my hip. 

"And what is it you're curious about?" He asked. What came out of my mouth next was almost definitely the wine talking.

"I want to know how your tongue tastes..." his mouth split into a grin and the tip of his nose knocked against mine as I gritted my teeth, just waiting. 

"God dammit (Y/n)..." He whispered.

"Because I've always wondered..." I murmured. "And maybe... If I were to taste you... Just once... I could get it out of my head." Yes, definitely the wine... I mean, sober thoughts,  but I definitely didn't intend for them to come out of my mouth.

"Just once?" He asked.

"Okay... Maybe more than once... " I stood on my tiptoes and let my eyes flutter closed before I finally pressed my lips to his. Desire burned through my body and my skin buzzed with anticipation. This night had potential. We had potential. I needed him.in whatever way I could get him. Just this once... Finally, I could let my little façade slip. Even just a little. Maybe I couldn't tell him the whole truth, but this night... We could have this night... And that would have to do.

Spencer slowly pulled his hand out of mine, reaching up and pushing my hair back behind my ear, letting his hand settle on the back of my neck. I tipped my head down, breaking our lips apart and leaning my forehead against his. This was already more than I ever could have hoped for. I looked up into his eyes. His gorgeous, warm, caramel eyes. He slowly dipped his head down, his lips pressed against my neck and I groaned, feeling my knees start to give way under me. I slowly shrugged my housecoat off and it fell to the ground, pooling around my feet. I was now left in my white, ribbed tank-top and my black bicycle shorts with the rainbow waistband. His hand slowly slipped under my top, propping itself back on my hip.

"Oh... Fuck..." I whispered, gripping onto his robe. My fists clenched around the material. Spencer's teeth nipped at my skin, his lips abusing it to the point, I knew they'd be leaving a bruise in their wake. He broke away from me.

"Tell me what you want..." He whispered, looking into my eyes. They seemed to be lit with the same fiery passion that had been ignited in mine. My lips parted as I gasped for air.

"God, Spencer, just take me!" I spat, reconnecting our lips. Spencer's hands ran down the backs of my thighs and I jumped. He caught me and carried me to the kitchen island, placing me down on it. I desperately pushed his robe off his shoulders, and he shed it. I placed my hands on either side of his face, pressing my lips back to his in a feverish frenzy. He gripped the bottom hem of my tank top, pulling it up. It passed between our lips, and I took a moment to suck in a deep breath. 

"Oh... Oh my god... " He whispered as his gaze fell down to my chest. "You look... Oh my god..." His hands laid on my sides, running up and tracing the outline of my breasts. "Jesus (Y/n)..." I felt a hot blush claw its way onto my face. "Can I...?"

"Oh... Uh, yeah- of course." I answered. He slowly bent down, forming his lips around my right nipple, sucking slightly and lapping his tongue up against it. I tangled both my hands in his hair, tugging on it hard. He let out a groan. "Oh... Ah- Spence! Oh my God!!!" I lolled my head back and my toes curled, my back arching as moans spilled from my lips.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful." He murmured, leaning in and kissing down my chest. I pushed myself forward and slid off the bar, taking his hand and dragging him with me to my bedroom. I just needed him. I pulled my hand from his and pushed down my shorts and my panties, hopping out of them and leaving them on the floor. Spencer began shedding his clothes behind me and I climbed into bed. He climbed in after me, holding himself over top of me. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked. I felt a shiver go down my spine. Did I? If this was what I got... So be it... I'd take any of him he was willing to give.

"Yes..." I answered, "I- I need this... I- I need you." Spencer closed his eyes and a small grin appeared on his face. He nodded and reached down, taking himself into his hand and guiding his tip to my entrance.

"Are you ready?" He asked.

"Yes." I answered. I took a deep breath and grabbed fistfuls of the sheets. Spencer slowly pushed into me. A gasp clawed its way forth from my throat and I heard Spencer let out a similar one. He buried his head in my neck, his teeth sinking into my shoulder. A loud whine left me, and I felt an unexpected silent sob wrack my body. He filled me so totally and so completely in a way I didn't think I'd ever be able to describe. All I knew was that there would be a gaping hole in my chest where my heart used to be when he was gone. 

I felt disgusted with myself. I'd gotten Spencer into my bed... And for what? Just so I could squirrel a piece of him away to keep for myself? So I could have something to point to on those nights when I felt so incredibly alone? Like nothing could ever fill the gaping, never-ending, all-encompassing black hole of loneliness that overtook my chest every so often. My nails dug into his back as he rocked in and out of me. He snapped his hips hard against me and it ripped me out of my thoughts, back to the moment. He felt impossibly good. Amazing, even. This was no doubt the best sex of my life. He felt incredible.

"Oh... God...! Oh fuck Spencer! Yes- God yes!" I dragged my nails down his back, gripping his hips so hard I knew I'd leave marks. This beautiful man was in my bed, making me feel things that no one else ever had. I rocked my hips, my back arching hard against the mattress. God, what was I doing?! I was lying to him. I had to come clean. I had to tell him the truth. This had to stop. A strangled sob ripped out of my body. I felt hollow.

"Stop! God- Spencer... Please- please stop!" Spencer immediately pulled out of me and threw himself off the side of the bed, standing over me and watching as tears fell down my face.

"Oh God- (Y/n), fuck- I'm so sorry- I-" I sat up, covering my chest with my arms and pawwing uselessly at the steady stream of tears falling down my cheeks. 

"No... I'm sorry, Spencer. I- I don't- this isn't what I wanted- I.." I drew my legs up under me. Spencer eyed me wearily, sitting beside me. I leaned my head on his shoulder, intertwining our fingers. "Spencer, I have... I have loved you since the day we met... And I just... I couldn't tell you- I just had to have a part of you..." Spencer looked down at me.

"(Y/n), I... I don't know what to say..." He murmured. My heart dropped. He slowly picked his head up and I knew he was looking at me. I picked up my head and kept my eyes on the floor. "(Y/n)... Look at me..." I slowly lifted my head and met his eyes. He looked disappointed... But there was something more there... "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I... I just couldn't..." I whispered.

"(Y/n), I have always thought you were the smartest, sweetest, most beautiful woman I'd ever met... But I gave up hope that you would ever feel the same... But this...? God... (Y/n)..." He dragged his eyes up my body and I felt forced to meet them.

"I'm so sorry..."

"Fuck, (Y/n)..." He whispered. He leaned in and reconnected our lips. I immediately reciprocated. I shoved the blankets off of me and cambered on top of him.

"God, Spencer..." I whispered against his lips. His caramel eyes darkened as they met mine. "Please, can I put it in?" I asked, “Please please please?" I begged. His lips broke into a devilish grin.

"How bad do you want it?" He asked, leaning his forehead on mine, letting his eyes wander down my nude body.

"Fuck, Spencer... I need it... I need you so bad..." I whispered, “Please! Spencer, please, please, please. I need you inside me..." He gritted his teeth and dragged the tip of his nose up my face until his lips were almost back on mine.

"Okay... Show me how well you take it." He muttered against my lips. I smiled and reached down between us. I took his cock into my hand, giving him a few pumps before guiding him into me. My mouth fell open and a gasp escaped. I sat down on him fully, my head rolling back as I slowly started rocking my hips. “Oh fuck..." Spencer whispered, his hands immediately propping themselves on my hips. His grip was tight and he felt fucking amazing.

"Ah- Spencer...! Spence, fuck..." I groaned. My back arched and I placed my hands behind me, steadying myself on his thighs. I cast my eyes down, watching as he slowly disappeared and reappeared from inside me. I moved my hips harder and faster. My slick fluid cascaded down his gorgeous shaft, wetting the neat, downy hairs at its base. I glanced up at his face, seeing he couldn't seem to pull his eyes away from the sight. He slowly moved one of his hands down, perching his fingers on my clit. I clenched my eyes shut and moved my hips in a sloppier pattern. " Oh- oh God, Spencer! Yes! Just like that! Oh my God, fuck!"

"Fuck, (Y/n), you feel so fucking amazing... God, you're so fucking- ah! God, you're so fucking tight!" I squeezed around him, flicking my hips forward. His head immediately lolled back, his lips parting, groans and gasps spilling out. His hips bucked up against mine and my grip on his thighs tightened. I could feel my fingers digging into his skin, continuing the sharp snapping movement of my hips. I felt his cock twitch inside me and I suddenly sat up, my movements shifting to more of a hopping motion. I wrapped my arms around him, digging my nails into his back, gripping him so tightly, I felt the tips of my fingers beginning to numb. Spencer bucked his hips up to meet mine sloppily. I leaned my forehead on his, meeting his eyes. We both broke into a spin, our breathing almost indistinguishable from the pleasured moans and gasps that escaped us. "God, you're so fucking beautiful..." Spencer gasped against my lips. Our breathing was ragged, and I poked my tongue out from between my teeth, running it along his upper lip. A chuckle escaped him and he opened his mouth, his own tongue coming out and meeting mine. it circled around mine and I could feel our breath mixing together in the sweltering room. Sweat poured off of us and the room smelled like pure sex and desire. His thumb circled my clit faster, his other fingers splaying out against my tummy to keep his movements as steady as possible. We both became sloppy in our movements as we came closer and closer to the edge. It began building up inside me, growing higher and higher and higher.

"Oh God, Spencer, I'm gonna cum!" I whispered, leaning in and letting my lips ghost over his. He smiled and pecked my lips briefly before backing off.

"Cum baby... Cum for me..." He whispered, I finally let myself go. I clenched around him, riding out the best orgasm of my life on his cock.

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Oh my god!!!" I groaned. My toes curled and my eyes clenched shut as the white hot pleasure rolled through me.

"Fuck, (Y/n) you gotta set off or- oh fuck- oh fuck- I'm going to cum!" He groaned.

"Fuck, Spencer-! I don't care! Cum in me! Fucking cum in me! I fucking need it... Fuck, Spencer, please!" I begged.

"God, (Y/n), you can't talk to me like that... Are you- ah! Are you on the pill?" he asked, hurriedly.

"Yes, Spencer, fuck! Just fucking give it to me!"

"Oh God! (Y/n)! Fuck!" He pumped up into me, gritting his teeth. Finally, I felt him let go. Thick ropes of cum shot inside me... And I took it. I took it all. I needed it. I finally relaxed and I felt him do the same. I collapsed against his chest and he wrapped his arms around me, holding me against him tightly. 

"My God, Spencer, that was... Oh my God, that was fucking amazing. You felt fucking amazing..." He chuckled into my hair. "What?" I asked.

"The woman I've had a crush on for years just begged me to cum inside her." I playfully smacked at his shoulder.

"And you did it..." I murmured.

"You're drunk..." He whispered.

"True... But I regret nothing." 

"Good... Because neither do I."

Turn's Notes: Hi guys! I hope you enjoyed this fic! I got to itch to write, but I promise that I have more than just Spencer Reid x Readers in the works. And I feel like I should forewarn you, I cannot stick to a schedule to save my life, especially a self-imposed one. Anyway- hope you enjoyed this fic! Bye bye! <3

[catcake24]

Oh god, I just had a brilliant TFOne KO/BD fic idea.

So you know how G1 Knockout is a construction worker and G1 Breakdown is a racer?? Well, in TFOne we see Breakdown is one of the racers in the Iacon 5000 (I don’t have the screenshot, but I do remember seeing his name along with the other Stunticons).

So… what if Knockout in TFOne is one of the many cogless miners???

So, here’s my idea (spoilers below):

Knockout is one of the few on-site medics for the miners, there for work related injuries (like Jazz’s leg in the movie). He’s not a worker because he has a processor bug, where he faints whenever he gets overwhelmed or too excited - which wouldn’t be a good trait for working in the dangerous mines.

Because of this relatively safer position, he tends to be cleaner and shinier than his fellow workers - cleaning and buffing his plating during work hours. He’s not the most well liked, but he’s good enough at his job that people just deal with it.

Knockout is a racer fan, and wishes he could compete in them very badly. Like many miners (at least in my fanfic), he feels like a piece of him is missing and would love to race if he could transform. He’s much like his TFP version in personality, sassy mean girl personality, maybe a bit nicer since he’s younger and already treated like shit.

Breakdown meanwhile, he’s a somewhat cocky racer who’s been apart of the Stunticons (who are basically just brothers who are all racers) since he was born. Due to being a transforming mech though, he hasn’t had much contact with cogless bots.

This changes when the Stunticons decide to go drag racing in a cogless residential area, a somewhat common thing since the roads are clear of other cars and the locals can see some drag racing without needing to get time off work. Knockout is one of these spectators, though only because he had a rough shift and needed something to blow off steam.

During the race though, there’s a crash and Breakdown needs medical attention - and the closest medic is Knockout.

Knockout ends up repairing Breakdown, who was curious about meeting a cogless bot, and from there it’s pretty typical KOBD I imagine. Breakdown might be more cocky here, but Knockout can match it easily and sass him for overworking his engine during the race Breakdown likes a mech who can talk down to him, and ends up flirting with KO… who faints from surprise and excitement.

Idk where to go from here, but I really like the idea of this being a bit of a roleswap au for the typical TFP KOBD and to mimic the “lower and higher class romance” stuff we see in tfp megop. I feel like these two would totally carry on a star crossed romance, meeting in semi-secret and Breakdown learning about KO’s life as a cogless bot and taking him on dates to places he could never access before.

BUT!!! After the events of the movie, Breakdown sees it all go down from the broadcast and rushes to see if KO is okay. He hasn’t seen him in awhile since all the miners were suddenly pulling mandatory extra shifts and injuries had increased exponentially. He bumps into a red racer on the way, trying to squeeze past, but then realized it’s Knockout who now has a t-cog. He came looking for Breakdown to show him.

Breakdown happily lifts up KO, who narrowly avoids fainting this time, and they go on their first racing date - and Breakdown is only more smitten when Knockout narrowly beats him.

(Please feel free to use or expand on this, i haven’t written knockout before so I would love some input on how he would act lol)

[justagalwhowrites]

The Savage and the Sanctuary - Ch. 1: Wrong Foot

Joel takes on a new contract as a bodyguard. A continuation of The Savage and the Sanctuary, a no outbreak TLOU story, from the prologue found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Non-consensual groping (not by Joel.) Mention of grief and child loss. No use of Y/N. Whole fic will be explicit so minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 7.1k

Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | Prologue | Next Chapter

Two years later - September 2024

“You really want me for this one?” he asked as he rode up the elevator at the nicest hotel in Austin. Even after two years protecting wealthy assholes, Joel wasn’t used to shit like this. The fast elevators and the plush carpets and the trappings of wealth that provided everything his charges needed. Everything, it seemed, except safety. 

For that, they needed him. 

Protecting people, as it happened, was something Joel was good at. It almost surprised him how good he was at it. It forced him to be aware of what was happening around him for a change instead of just moving through the world like a ghost. It took that awareness for him to even realize just how dead he’d been in the years since the death of his daughter.

Usually, things went fine. Most often, he was shepherding tech or oil executives with inflated egos from business meeting to business meeting while they were in town and looking the other way when they cheated on their wives or put half his salary up their noses. Nothing ever happened with those assholes. 

Occasionally, though, his job got interesting. Rabid fans tried to mob some pop star Joel had never heard of at a club on 6th Street once and he had to carry her out, forcing his way through the crowd before she got crushed. Then there was the supermodel who was posing for photos with fans when one little college-aged fucker thought it would be smart to grab her ass to cop a feel. Joel took a little too much pleasure in punching him so hard that he fell to the floor, knocked clean out. The football player had been the biggest trouble, though. Some hotshot asshole who’d just won the Super Bowl coming back to his college town to party. He picked a fight with the wrong drug dealer and damn near got shot for it, Joel whisking him away and getting winged in the shoulder by the bullet for his trouble. 

He didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that he liked when the work got dicey. Being shot at was the closest to alive Joel has felt in years. Getting to lay out some asshole without the cops trying to arrest him for it had been the highlight of his month. It made him very good at his job and he liked that, both things that surprised him. 

“You’re my best guy,” Tommy said. “You’ve seen more action on this job than almost any of the other guards and they want someone with a good history. Plus you don’t give a shit about… higher profile clientele. I can’t put fuckin’ James on a job with someone he knows, he’ll fan boy over ‘em. Remember when that one band came through?” 

“Jesus,” Joel groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. It had been an easy job but it was one that he’d had to do most of the work on, James practically giddy the entire time. “Yeah, you’re right. So, what, this some pop star or somethin’?” 

“Not sure,” Tommy said. “They’ve been playin’ it real close to the chest, won’t ID ‘em until we sign an NDA.” 

“So you got no idea what we’re workin’ with,” Joel said, grinding his teeth. 

“Just that it’s someone people know,” Tommy said. “Long term contract, real good money. They mentioned a stalker, they’re bringing all the information along on that to review, wanted you to see it before we signed on.” 

Joel nodded slowly. 

“Well,” he said. “Least it’ll be interesting.” 

They made it to the top floor of the hotel, only four doors and Joel fought the urge to laugh. God, this breed of rich asshole was a whole new level. 

Tommy led the way to a door labeled Presidential Suite and knocked, a young woman with close cropped dark hair and a headphone in her ear answered the door. 

“One second,” she said, tapping her headphone before she smiled at the two men. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Miller. My boss prefers to have people come to where she is when she travels, I’m sure you can understand…” 

“Of course,” Tommy said. “Happy to go wherever you need.” 

“Can I get you anything?” She asked, leading the way into a hotel suite that had to be damn near the size of Joel’s entire house. “Coffee? Water? Tea? Also have a variety of Coke I think you call it here if you’d like that.” 

“Water’s fine,” Tommy said. 

“Still, sparkling?” She asked. “Also have cucumber, lemon, mint…” 

“Uh,” Tommy blinked for a moment and Joel fought the urge to laugh. “Still’s fine. None of that other stuff.” 

She nodded before she looked to Joel, her brows raised. 

“Coffee,” he said. “Black.” 

“Of course,” she smiled, leading them to a sitting room and gesturing to a couch. “Quinn will be with you shortly.” 

She disappeared and returned with their drinks, handing them to each of them with a smile before she tapped the headphone again. 

“Thank you,” she said, her voice almost syrupy sweet as she went to another room. “I appreciate you waiting since you’re apparently so willing to try to fuck us over…” 

Tommy’s eyes went wide and he looked at Joel, the conversation becoming almost silent as she closed the door behind her. 

“Definitely ain’t from around here,” Joel said. 

“Guess not,” Tommy said. 

It wasn’t long - Joel only drank half the coffee which was far better than he was expecting it to be - when another door opened, a woman closer to his own age coming out, dressed in an expertly fitted gray suit, her dark hair in long, tiny braids that hung to her waist. Sarah had always liked hair like that, always begged Joel to let her get them. He wished he had whiskey for his coffee. 

The woman was on the phone, too, but she was on speaker. 

“I don’t care,” she said. “You know the deal and I’m not going to just sit here and pretend that you don’t because you decided today was the day to play fucking games. Call me when you want to handle shit like a fucking grown up.” 

She hung up and sat heavily on the couch opposite them, the girl who answered the door almost scurrying into the room and hovering near the large coffee table. The woman in the suit - Quinn, Joel assumed - giving her a single nod and she rushed off, quickly returning with a bottle of water and several folios. 

“Tommy,” Quinn smiled. “While it’s good to see you again, I’m sure you’ll understand when I say I’m looking forward to getting this settled so we can stop meeting like this.” 

Tommy smiled back. 

“Can’t say I disagree,” he said. “Wanted you to have the chance to meet Joel, he’ll be the lead on this contract assuming we go ahead. He’s one of my best guys, got the history you asked for…” 

“I’m sure being your brother doesn’t hurt,” she smiled a little. Joel raised his eyebrows and looked to Tommy but she answered his unspoken question. “We pulled backgrounds for everyone on your payroll. We can’t be too careful.” 

She tossed one of the leather folios on the table. 

“This is what we’re up against,” she said. “Redacted, of course, so you can’t ascertain who my client is but you’ll have access to the full versions should you accept the contract and sign the necessary NDAs. We’ve naturally brought them to the police and they believe the threat is credible. They have a lot of information - some of these were sent to my client’s private residence, for example - and it’s clear they’ve seen my client in person numerous times. We have reason to believe they will follow my client wherever she goes and there is genuine concern for escalation…” 

Tommy picked up the file and looked it over, nodding slowly, before passing a page off to Joel. It was the photo copy of a printed letter. 

You were beautiful today in that green dress. 

One day, you’ll come home to me. One day, I’ll make you see. 

Joel passed the page back to Tommy. 

“I can see why you’re concerned,” Tommy said, handing the folio back. “Don’t seem like anything we can’t handle. I think we’re alright to move forward with the contract as discussed…” 

There was a knock at the door and the girl ran to go answer it, Quinn ignoring it completely. 

“Excellent,” she said, grabbing another folio and passing it over. “This is the contract and the NDA, already reviewed by your legal team. We just require a wet signature.” 

Tommy nodded, looking over the pages, anyway, and Joel was starting to wonder why he’d had to be trotted out like some kind of prize show pony just to sign some damn paperwork when there was a commotion at the door. 

“This really isn’t necessary,” the girl was saying, her voice oddly pleading, the total opposite of how she’d been on the phone. 

“Oh I’m sure Quinn won’t mind,” another voice - a new one but there was a tug of familiarity to it that set Joel’s teeth on edge - said. “I am her favorite client, after all.” 

Quinn’s head snapped in the direction of the sound and, in a sweep of gauzy clothes and floral perfume, you were there. 

Joel recognized you immediately, everything about you seeming to have been built to be remembered. The whole world remembered you, it had been years since he’d been able to escape you. The biggest movie star on the planet, helming major franchises and winning fucking Oscars, on the cover of gossip rags at the fucking grocery store and on billboards advertising perfume and on Saturday Night Live. In person, from the second you appeared, you were a force. Your face, your voice, the way you held yourself, no wonder he always noticed you when you were all around him. No wonder his daughter had been obsessed with you. 

Your face was a poster on her wall, a picture where you had the slightest, confident smile on your lips but your eyes always seemed sad. You turned those eyes to him, ranging over him like you were taking stock and Joel’s heart stuttered before your gaze turned to Tommy and back to Quinn. 

“So glad you got the meeting started without me,” you said, all saccharine sweetness, stepping over Joel’s legs and sitting down on the edge of the couch between him and Tommy. You crossed one elegant leg over the other - your pants ever so slightly sheer so Joel could just make out your thigh below the loose fabric - and leaned forward, taking Joel’s white china coffee cup off the table and helping yourself to a sip with a jingle of your bangles that were piled high on your wrists. You gave him a wink as you did, setting the cup back on its saucer before leaning onto your leg, your arms folded in front of you. “I’m sure the fact that I didn’t know it was happening has nothing to do with wanting to cut me out of the decision making for something that’s going to be apparently integral to my life over the next year.” 

“I just don’t want to bog you down with petty things like this,” Quinn waved you off. “You have enough on your plate, that’s what you pay me for…” 

“Oh I’m sure that’s all it is…” 

Quinn leaned forward, too, meeting your steely gaze from across the table. The knowing smile that had been on her lips just a second earlier was gone. In its place was a no nonsense expression that Joel imagined carried her far when dealing with Hollywood assholes. She, it seemed, was done coddling you. 

“The studios know,” she cut you off. “Someone at the police station leaked it. And they won’t insure you without higher levels of security, especially if you want to spend this much time outside LA. You want to keep working? You need security. At least until we get to the bottom of whoever is sending you letters.” 

“Have you tried telling them how well the tickets will sell when I die?” You asked, brows raised. “I’m sure they’ll be champing at the bit then, especially now that they can just replace me with CGI for whatever isn’t in the can…” 

“That’s not funny,” Quinn said sharply. 

“Oh, come on. It was a little funny.” 

She glared at you. 

“Do you really want someone like that getting close to her?” She asked, her voice almost unsettlingly earnest and gentle. You almost deflated then, giving in. “It’s not safe, babe. I’m trying to keep you safe. It just so happens that it’s also in the studio’s best interest so you don’t have to foot the entire bill.” 

“You must not have told them about the boost in ticket sales, then,” you said wryly. She rolled her eyes. “But fine. If you really think there’s a risk to her? I’ll do it.” 

Joel wondered who this “her” was. Knowing movie stars, probably some tiny fucking dog you carried in your goddamn purse. 

You looked to Joel for a moment, your gaze oddly cutting, like you were seeing through every part of him before turning your attention to Tommy. 

“When does your contract begin then?” 

Tommy glanced at Joel, almost asking if he was actually OK with this. Clearly, this wasn’t what Tommy had expected either. Joel gave a minute shrug. 

“Tomorrow,” Tommy said, looking back to you. “Joel here will be your point man but you’ll also be working with a few other guys from my company. He’ll get you oriented tomorrow and we can work out a way to ensure your protection that’s minimally disruptive to your daily life.” 

You scoffed. 

“Something tells me having a wall of muscle follow me everywhere is going to disruptive,” you said. “But the studio says jump, we say how high, right?” 

“Hey, I don’t make the rules,” Quinn said.

“We all know who does,” you muttered darkly, getting to your feet. “Well, since all this was going to happen whether I wanted it to or not, I think I’m done wasting my time here.” 

You turned to Joel and he found himself in the unnatural position of looking up to someone, his jaw tight as you levied those exacting eyes on him again. 

“See you in the morning,” you said, reaching down and helping yourself to another sip of his coffee with a wink before stepping over his legs and heading out the door in a whirl of soft perfume and flowing fabric. He looked back to the coffee cup. Your lipstick was on the rim.

Joel tried not to think about how you looked at him as Tommy finished up with the formalities, the conversation between his brother and Quinn a drone he couldn’t really make out over the noise in his head as his leg bounced impatiently.

When Tommy had looked at him just now, the silent request for permission, he should have bowed out. He should have said he didn’t want to put his life on the line for some spoiled fucking brat and gone home. But he hadn’t and he couldn’t back out of this now. It didn’t matter how much you made him think of his daughter. It didn’t matter how your eyes seemed to cut him to the quick. He owed Tommy. When he’d started in this business, he’d told his brother that he could do this work and sometimes that meant doing shit he wasn’t comfortable with. He would just have to live with that. 

Eventually, Joel gave up on sitting still. 

“Be downstairs,” he said gruffly to Tommy when the conversation with Quinn lulled for a moment. He didn’t wait for a response before going for the elevator, relieved that it as empty on the way down to the lobby as it had been on the way up. 

But the ground floor of the hotel was not the quiet place it had been when Joel had arrived. Instead, there was a press of people just outside the doors, phones up and loud enough that he could hear them through the glass. He frowned for a moment before he realized what it was, the metal of your bangles catching the light as your arm rose above the crowd, a phone clutched in your hand as you took a selfie. 

“Jesus,” Joel muttered, stalking over toward the door. 

At least, he thought, he wasn’t on duty until tomorrow. If you really wanted to handle shit that bad on your own? Fine by him. 

The doorman held the door for him and Joel gave him a stiff nod as he tried to force his way from the building, but the press of people was becoming suffocating, every inch of sidewalk crammed tight. 

“Can I get a selfie?” 

“My girlfriend loves you, can you say hi to her on video?” 

“Can I have an autograph?” 

“Look, I’m happy to give you all whatever you want,” you said, voice friendly but still curt. “But I need a little room to breathe, OK? I’m not in a rush, we’ve got time, it’s…” 

Someone from the outside edge of the crowd shoved forward, sending the press of people toward you, Joel tall enough that he could see how they tripped and jostled, sending you stumbling into the person at your back. You had to fight for the space to stand up again, the man you’d fallen into’s hand running up your side to your chest, cupping the underside of your breast as you tried to find a way to separate from him. If it wasn’t for the look on his face, Joel might have given him the benefit of the doubt. But his lecherous smile gave him away, and the thinly veiled look of disgust on your face told him you knew exactly what this man was trying. 

Something that hadn’t existed much since Joel lost everything took over. It was rage, blind and violent and coursing through him sharp and heady. That rage didn’t give him a chance to really think, but then, it never had. Not when he was a kid and his dad was on some bender, not when he was some hotheaded teenager looking to pick a fight with a bully at school, not when he was at a bar and saw someone who could have killed his daughter. It was no different now as he practically dove into the crowd, forcing the group apart and not caring if people got pushed into the street or shoved to the ground.

“Move!” Joel yelled, not that it seemed to do much beyond warn people that he was coming for them. He reached you in a matter of seconds, towering over the man who’d decided to take advantage of your vulnerable position to grope you. The man - more of a kid, likely some student at UT who didn’t know his ass from hole in the ground - gaped up at him, his eyes wide and his hand still on your breast. 

Joel took your arm and pulled you, roughly, away from his grip, tucking you behind him before refocusing on the kid in front of him. 

“You think that shit’s funny?” Joel asked, his hand curling into a fist. “Touchin’ a woman without permission?” 

“I was just…” he looked afraid and something inside Joel flared with pride at that. Look at what he could do, he thought, it looked like he was capable of something after all. 

“Know what you were just,” Joel cut him off, mockingly, before grabbing him by his shirt and slamming him back into a marble pillar. The kids head smacked against it with sickening crack. “Do that shit again and I’ll bust your jaw.” 

Joel released him and the kid slumped to the ground before he turned to find you, looking down at the kid with your mouth slightly open. 

“C’mon,” Joel said, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him, ducking your head down low to ruin the picture for anyone who might be trying to take one. “Let’s go.” 

He looked around, the crowd thinner now but all watching him. 

“Move!” He roared again. This time, they listened, parting like the Red Sea as he ushered you quickly away, back into the hotel. He looked to the door man, trying not to glare at him too hard. “Those assholes don’t come inside, we clear?” 

“Yes sir,” the man said quickly.

Joel looked to you next. 

“Where’s your car?” 

“Valet,” you said, your forehead in your hand. “I didn’t get a chance to even grab it yet, someone must have tipped off some fucking gossip blog that I was here…” 

“Got the ticket?” Joel asked. You sighed and fished it out of your pocket and handed it over before Joel took it to the front desk and told them to have your car brought out back. He also got directions to the loading dock before going back to find you, in the same spot on the plush lobby couch, fingers laced together, elbows braced on your knees. 

“C’mon,” Joel said, making you jump before looking up at him. “They’re bringing your car around back, we’ll get you out of here without those fuckers knowin’.” 

You looked back down at the ground before giving a stiff nod. 

“Thanks.” You got up and took a deep breath, raising your chin, an almost serene look on your face before looking to him. “Lead the way.” 

He did as you asked, watching like a hawk for anyone who might be stupid enough to try to talk to you. But no one seemed to pay you any mind, even as the two of you cut through the dining room - closed between lunch and dinner service - and into the kitchen, where dozens of cooks were working to get set for the evening. They just ducked around the pair of you, sometimes giving Joel a dirty look for getting in their way, and then you were at the loading dock. 

“Here,” Joel said, jumping down from the edge of it to the alley still damp from rain from the night before. He held his hands out to you. “I’ll help you down.” 

“Thanks, but I’d rather do it myself,” you said. You were more cautious about it than Joel but you jumped down and landed lightly beside him, brushing your hands free of the dirt from the dock before crossing your arms tightly over your chest. Your jaw was tight, the only sign on your calm, uncommonly beautiful face that something might be wrong. Joel crossed his arms, too. 

“You OK?” He asked after a moment. 

You looked at him for a second, your brows raised ever so slightly. 

“Fine,” you said after a moment before staring straight ahead again. 

“You sure?” He asked. He wasn’t sure why he was pressing. He shouldn’t care. He didn’t care.

“Yes,” you said and then you laughed once, sharply. “I mean, no, I’m not but what the fuck am I going to do about it? It’s part of the job, isn’t it?” 

Joel ground his teeth. 

“Shouldn’t be.” 

“Regardless,” you shrugged, glancing at him again. “Thank you for your help. You didn’t have to do that and… Well, I appreciate it.” 

“Sure,” he said as your car came around the corner. You dropped your arms before turning to face him. 

“Looks like it’s you and me starting tomorrow,” you said. “I’m sure your boss will give you all the details but I don’t think I caught your name.” 

“Joel,” he said after a moment. “Miller.”

You smiled, a small, almost hesitant one, the slightest upturn of your lips. 

“Joel Miller,” you repeated back to him. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m…” 

“Don’t need to tell me your name,” he said. “Pretty sure everyone on Earth knows your name.” 

You laughed again in that same, humorless way as your car stopped beside you. 

“Yeah,” you said. “I suppose they do. See you tomorrow, Joel.” 

“See you tomorrow, ma’am.” 

He watched you pull cash out of your pocket and smile more broadly at valet who was damn near gawking at you. You discreetly handed him the money as you shook his hand and Joel stayed there in the alley until he couldn’t see your car any more. 

“Holy shit,” the valet said and Joel looked down at him. He had to be about 18 years old, still wet behind the ears. Probably had fucking posters of you up in his room that he jerked off to before he went to bed. He held up the cash. “She gave me 100 bucks!” 

Joel looked down at him, making sure to draw himself to his full height. 

“You gonna tell anyone we got her out this way?” He asked. The kid swallowed hard and shook his head. “Good.” 

Joel tried not to grind his teeth as he went back inside to find his brother. He wished it wasn’t too late to back out of this. You, he thought, were going to be far more than he’d bargained for. He just hoped he was ready for it.

***

“I’m not wearing this.” 

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“Seriously dude?” You asked, incredulous. “Can’t you wait like… two days before picking a fight?” 

“Have you seen this fucking thing?” Ellie’s eyebrows disappeared into her bangs as she held up the hem of the blue plaid skirt that, you had to admit, looked sickeningly unnatural on your 14-year-old niece. “You could put a whole circus up this thing! And how am I supposed to kick someone’s ass in a fucking skirt?” 

“First of all, language,” you said. She rolled her eyes. You ignored her. “Second of all, you shouldn’t be kicking anybody’s ass. Why are you starting your day thinking about ass kicking? You haven’t even met these kids yet, I highly doubt you’ll need to kick someone’s ass your first day.” 

“I’d like to be able to kick someone’s ass if I need to,” she said, incredulous. “Come on. You know this is insane.” 

You sighed as the doorbell rang and you checked your watch. 7 a.m. on the nose. Well, at least the man was prompt. 

“Fine,” you sighed. “Run upstairs, put on something else…” 

Ellie took off as Esmo, your household assistant, appeared next to you, Joel by her side. 

“Morning,” he said, voice gruff. You looked him over quickly, a side arm at his belt on a pair of jeans that fit him entirely too well. You doubted they were tailored, either, they just fit him like that, the bastard. Just your luck that you’d get stuck with a bodyguard who was unnaturally good looking but also an asshole. “Thought we could get started with…”

“Sorry, that won’t work, things are a bit off the rails this morning,” you said to him quickly, not giving him a chance to respond before turning to Esmo.

“Do you still have the name of the uniform store?” You asked her. “If you do, can you see if they’re open? I think we’re going to need to stop for pants…” 

“Yes ma’am,” she said, quickly pulling out her phone. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think to get pants, the requirements were very clear…” 

“It’s not your fault,” you said quickly. Esmo had only been working for you for a few weeks and it felt like the two of you were still getting used to each other. She insisted on calling you ma’am. You insisted on doing too much for yourself. It was a delicate balance. “She’s just…” 

“OK,” Ellie came thundering down the stairs in the same sweater with a button down shirt and tie but jeans instead of the skirt. “Ready!” 

“Store opened at seven,” Esmo said, pocketing her phone. “I can take her and…” 

“I want to do it,” you cut her off, catching a glimpse of Joel’s shocked expression out of the corner of your eye as you looked back to your niece. “Alright trouble maker, ready to go?” 

“Fuck yeah.” 

“Girl,” you said. “Language, please!” 

She made a face but made her way to the front door, anyway, her thumbs looped through the straps of her book bag and you turned to Joel, still surprised at just how large he was, even after being against him the day before. 

“Assuming you’re along for the ride on this,” you said, jerking your head for the door. “But we gotta book it, with an extra stop we’re already not going to be early for her first day.” 

He still had a look of almost shock on his face but he followed behind you as you grabbed your keys and wristlet from the bowl by the door, Ellie bouncing impatiently from foot to foot. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were excited,” you teased as you made you way to the Porsche SUV you’d gotten specifically to haul Ellie around. “Almost like you want to go to school instead of hanging out with me all day.” 

“Spending time with old people does get… well, old,” she smirked, heading for the passenger seat but you stopped her. 

“Absolutely not, you’re in back,” you said, jerking a thumb toward Joel - who still hadn’t spoken. “This man has a good foot on you, we’re not making him sit back there.” 

“Ugh, fine,” she huffed but obeyed, throwing her book bag against the opposite door before clambering in as Joel went for the driver’s seat, holding out his hand for the keys. You gave him a look but he just raised his brow, his arm still extended expectantly. 

“Please,” you scoffed. “I’ll let you follow me around like some guard dog but I’m keeping some last vestige of my autonomy. I’m driving.” 

He narrowed his eyes. 

“No.” 

“And why not?” You asked. “Because you have control issues?”

“Do you know evasive driving tactics?” He asked. “How to watch for pursuers and safely out run them?” 

“No, but I did my own stunt driving for the Fast Track franchise,” you said wryly. “Think I’ll be fine. Now move, you’re making us late.” 

He ground his teeth. 

“We’re talkin’ about this,” he muttered before stalking off to the passenger side of the car. 

“Yeah I bet we are,” you said under your breath as you got in the car and programmed the GPS for the uniform store. 

“So,” Ellie said in a teasing tone as she leaned between the front seats as you started off. “Who are you?”

“Put on your seatbelt,” he said. 

She rolled her eyes but sat back and obeyed.

“This is Joel,” you answered for him. “He’s going to be around quite a bit.” 

“Is he like another assistant or some shit?” She asked. 

“Language,” you said and you caught a glimpse of her rolling her eyes in your rearview mirror. “And no, not an assistant.” 

“Ohhhh,” she smirked. “So he’s like a boyfriend then, got it…” 

Joel rolled his eyes. 

“I’m a bodyguard,” he said. “I’ll be protecting your…” 

“Bodyguard?” Ellie interrupted and leaned forward again, frowning. “Why do you need a bodyguard? You didn’t have one of those in LA, what the fuck?” 

“I have a bodyguard because you can’t go five minutes without saying fuck,” you said wryly. “My life is under constant threat because of…” 

“Please,” Ellie rolled her eyes. “You have a worse mouth than I do. But seriously, why do you need a bodyguard? Is something going on?” 

You saw Joel moving to talk but you spoke before he had a chance to. 

“This is just a different place than LA,” you said quickly. “People here aren’t used to people like me just showing up in grocery stores and stuff. It can get out of hand quick so the studio wanted me to have Joel around. It’s just a precaution.” 

She seemed skeptical but was satisfied enough by the bullshit explanation you’d just given her that she sat back, pulling a Savage Starlight comic book from her book bag and you smiled a little. A lot might have changed in the last few months but at least Ellie was still Ellie. 

You made it to the uniform store and told the woman inside - who was seemingly trying not to gape at you but was failing miserably - what you were looking for. She grabbed a few pairs of uniform pants in different sizes before leading Ellie to the fitting rooms and you hung back, waiting for her to change with Joel by your side. He stood facing you, eyes constantly sweeping the store as though this strip mall just outside Austin were a war zone. 

“No one told me you had a kid,” he said eventually. 

You smiled, sadly. 

“Yeah, well,” you said. “I have a kid. That’s a pretty new development, though.” 

That made him pause, his eyebrows drawing together as he looked to you. 

“I adopted her,” you said. “A few months ago. Her mom was a single parent and like a sister to me. When she got cancer, the first thing she asked me was to take Ellie if… I told her that she was nuts, that she’d be around forever and she wouldn’t need me to do anything for Ellie besides take her to Europe for a cool aunt vacation when she turned 18 but… well, now I have a kid.” 

“I…” His voice trailed off. “Shit. I’m sorry.”  

You shrugged. 

“It is what it is, I guess,” you said. “She’s why I’m here. Things in LA… I’ve always been in her life. I was the second person to ever hold her. But I’ve always kept the paparazzi far away from her, I’ve made sure she has privacy and that she was as sheltered from that part of my life as she could be. I want to settle into this with some version of normal, one that isn’t possible when I’m in LA. And you, Joel, are throwing quite a wrench into that.” 

“Oh this is so much better,” Ellie threw the door to the changing room open with a flourish, in a pair of blue pants that perfectly matched the blue of the sweater. “Not as good as jeans but better than that stupid freaking skirt.” 

“Alright,” you said. “We’ll take five of those and then we have to get you to school because there’s no point in loading you up on uniforms just to have you miss your first day, let’s go.” 

You weren’t as early as you wanted to be - you’d been hoping to have a chance to meet Ellie’s teachers before the day started but that plan was shot - but at least kids were still arriving. You grabbed a baseball cap from your glove box, Joel stiffening as you reached between his legs to open it and you resisted the urge to smirk at that. As though you’d be trying to come onto him at all let alone with your niece in the car. 

Hat on so you were somewhat disguised, you walked with Ellie and Joel to the front of the stone building, one that had clearly taken inspiration from the ivy league schools the kids who went here were all but destined to attend. A gray haired woman in a charcoal pantsuit rushed out to greet you, an almost stern look on her face. 

“Welcome to Austin Preparatory Academy,” she extended her hand. “I’m Amanda Stark, headmistress here.” 

“Good to meet you,” you said, taking her hand, feeling Joel standing oddly close to your back. “This is Ellie, she’s looking forward to starting here today and…” 

“We’re looking forward to having her,” she smiled a little at Ellie before redirecting her attention to you. “But I’m afraid there’s been some… ah… miscommunication about the uniform. Girls are required to wear skirts. I’m sure we have…” 

“No miscommunication,” you smiled a little, steeling your spine. From the moment you’d caved to Ellie, you knew this was coming. But you’d been prepared to fight far bigger battles over this kid, this wasn’t going to be any different. “Ellie just prefers to wear pants. It wasn’t a problem at her last school, I’m sure it won’t be a problem here.” 

Ellie stuck her chin out, smirking a little and defiant as ever and you resisted the urge to elbow her. She could at least act like she wasn’t going to get her way. 

“But it is,” the headmistress said. “The uniform code here has been this way for decades and…” 

“And I’m sure you’re not suggesting that just because something has been done one way that it should continue to be done that way at the expense of students’ comfort and learning experience,” you finished for her, smiling tightly.

“We have expectations for our students,” she said, her jaw clenched. “Just like they will have one day to be successful in life, and…” 

“And you’re wearing pants,” you nodded to her suit. “And so am I. Of course, if you’re suggesting that neither of us is successful then…” 

“No, no of course not, that’s not…” 

“Wonderful!” You said brightly. “I’m glad that’s settled. I’m sure Ellie won’t cause any disruption wearing the uniform pants and now I won’t need to spend my day contacting every major news network here in Austin and asking them to come here and chat with me about your archaic gender rules and expectations. Sound good?” 

You watched her grind her teeth for a moment. 

“Of course,” she said after a moment of silence hanging in the air. “But we are close to the start of the school day and…” 

“Yes, I don’t want to be a distraction,” you smiled before turning to Ellie, tucking a hair that had already broken free of her ponytail behind her ear. “Alright kid, behave yourself, OK?” 

“Yes Sissy,” she rolled her eyes. Your heart still tightened a little when she called you that. She sounded so much like her mother, Anna. You loved that Ellie called you the same thing her mother had but still, it stung.

“I’ll be back to pick you up,” you said, putting your hands on her shoulders. “Have a good first day, OK?” 

“Oh I will,” she said and you watched her head into the building with the headmistress at her side until you couldn’t see her anymore. 

“OK, she’s dropped,” Joel said, his voice tight. “Let’s move, this place isn’t secured.” 

“Well that sure seems like a gap in security, doesn’t it?” You said, brows raised. 

“One I would have fixed if anyone had bothered to tell me you had a damn kid,” he practically growled. 

“Probably a bad idea for your boss to not have insisted on bringing me into the conversation then, wasn’t it?” 

He looked at you, his face hard. 

“Keys.” He held out his hand.

You laughed once. 

“Keys?” You said. “Really? Just ‘keys,’” you grunted it like he did, “that’s it?”

“Your kid is inside,” he said, hand still out. “Don’t have her to use an excuse now so, keys.” 

You looked at him for a moment, the firm set of his jaw, the flecks of gray just starting in at his temples. He was a good looking man, tall and broad with a rugged look to him. He’d make a good cowboy in a western, you thought, or maybe a hardened detective. But protecting someone like you seemed out of place for him. Beneath him a little, almost like he was a sell out.

“No,” you said simply, ducking around him and heading for the car. 

He followed closely behind you, even his footfalls gruff and angry. You sped up a little but he stepped in front of you, anyway, his oddly large body blocking your door. He opened his mouth - probably to try to order you around again - but you cut him off before he had the chance. 

“I’m not letting you drive,” you said. “It doesn’t matter what you do or what you say. If you want to drive, you’re going to have to pick me up and move me so, if you want to get out of here quickly and without causing a scene, you’ll get in the passenger seat and we can go.” 

For half a moment, you thought he might actually throw you over his shoulder. Instead, he just grunted and stalked around to the other side of the car, ripping the door open roughly. You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh. All this pretense over some stupid letters from some over zealous fan. 

You got in the car and dropped the keys in Joel’s lap. He frowned, picking them up. 

“You want to have the keys so bad? Fine.” You pushed the button and the car roared to life. “I’ve got them right where I want them.” 

“You gotta come to terms with how this shit is going to work,” he said sharply. “You can’t just do whatever the hell it is you feel like. I get that you’re some spoiled fuckin’ actress who only ever does exactly what she wants whenever she wants but I got news for you, I don’t give a shit how many movies you’ve been in or awards you’ve won. I care about keeping your ass alive and to do that, you gotta listen to me. I ain’t one of those fuckin’ ass kissers you spend all your time with so we can do this the hard way or the easy way but either way, it’s gonna be my fuckin’ way. Understood?” 

You watched him for a moment, your tongue between your teeth to keep from snapping at him. It was something you were used to, something you’d been doing since you were a girl, always shutting up while the people who were more powerful than you - people you’d made fucking rich - made every decision for you. 

That was one thing on set and in your career and even for posed fucking paparazzi shots but not in your real life. 

“I need coffee,” you said, putting the car in drive. “Coffee?” 

“I’m sure you got people who can do that for you,” he said, his jaw clenched. 

“Yes, but where’s the fun in that?” You smirked before nodding down to his wrist. “Oh, also? Your watch is broken.” 

You pressed the gas harder than you should have, the car jumping sharply forward, wondering just how far you could push your new shadow before he backed out.

Next Chapter

A/N: OK I'm already in love with writing how these two push each other's buttons. Annoying Joel Miller is my passion, I can't wait to drive this man absolutely insane over the arc of this fic.

Thank you so much for being patient as I wrapped up Yearling and went on vacation! I'm hoping to update this once a week going forward so you won't need to wait quite so long between chapters from here on out. I hope you enjoyed getting to know these two a little better!

Taglist: @christinamadsen @eff4freddie @brittmb115 @copperhalfcent @r3dheadedwitch @pedropascalsbbg @lovelyjess69 @yopossum @moel-jiller @picketniffler

[wroteclassicaly]

so, like, my horny steve thot is almost always the same: i just love the idea of his cock being sooo uncommonly long and girthy that he has to take his sweet time getting you ready and even tho he makes you cum on four fingers and his tongue twice, he still can only fit about half of his cock inside you before you’re crying (crying for more? crying for less? you don’t even know … you’re crying for more probably) :(((( hehe

I know this is way more than a Steve thot, but I do hope you like it anyways? Hehe, thanks so much for sending it in, my dear Cece! I tweaked it a little bit ;)

Note: My vaginismus having ass could not take Steve’s monster very easily (if at all), but this is nice to think about. And I felt like having trouble, even with prep from four fingers (my god, I struggle with sometimes one and definitely two) — is relatable af!

Warnings: Language, smut, NSFW, touches on sub space a little bit, mentions oral sex, handjobs, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, and the reader has a hard time taking Steve, so there’s significant pain. I think that about covers it?

Sometimes you felt as if you were floating. Higher than the tallest cliff hanging off the quarry, rocks jagged and waters a deep, enriching blue, rippling in velvet serenity. Your particles could be scattered to the Midwest winds and you’d have yet to realize, halfway through time — maybe even space…? It happens more and more frequently now, tonight is no different.

You shift, one jut of your knee that slides into a slippery sloping press, his wiry leg hairs tickling your calf. He moves, widening your right thigh, your ankle sliding across your rose colored bed sheets, and back behind his slender form, where he’s kneeling in front of you. An electric heat flows so hot between your legs that the cool air rushing in hurts. You fist your own fingers into your air, massaging, tugging, neck stretching to expose the delicate tendons that run up your throat — ones he’s littered in his claims. God if he could suck them raw, nip the sore flesh into his teeth, enough that you whimper again, opening yourself just the way he needs you to…

Your arm is still thrown above your head, the outline of your forearm pressing into your pillow, your kiss-swollen lips shiny with spit and dormant pleas that he’d heard not long ago. He’s tried to say a few words, even used his palm to push down on your abdomen, still four knuckles deep into your soaking wet pussy. It’s to no avail, your eyes completely glassy, lash line soaked, gaze fucked over and reaching outer limits — a place he can only imagine what’s it like (from your perspective, anyways). He knows this path you go head first into. The books and magazines he had read a long time ago in his High School days mentioned how sex is obviously different for girls, how they can experience things more intensely sometimes.

But nothing could’ve prepared him for this. The very first time it happened coincided with a two hour long foreplay. Steve remembers it like the back of a Farrah Fawcet spray canister. He was prepping you to take him — all nerves and mangled, panting breaths. One finger and his mouth on your neck, two found his lips sucking underneath your jaw line and crooking against that spot just right, three had you stifling whimpers into his neck and riding his splayed palm that stayed drenched, and four… Well, four was an unremarkable set of attempts that took up the better part of the second hour.

You’d done it with Steve’s patience, his languid coaxing. And when you had berated yourself for being unable to take it much past the tip of the fourth, he’d slid between your legs and lifted them apart, his tongue finding your creamy opening and helping himself. You lost count on how many fuses he’d lit and caused to explode, only touching your senses upon hearing Steve hiss out a yes when his fourth finger easily joined the other three. It took a few minutes with him talking to you, high on a raspy ease, a delicious chorus of praises pouring off his lips — then you were back. Some sort of transitioning space, Robin had told him when he couldn’t help but to ask, wondering if it was too much for you.

And that fed into Steve’s addiction to satiate his hunger for seeing you in such an uncaring, completely melted state. All because of him.

He grabs your chin with a calloused thumb and pointer finger, pinching to tilt, your lips catching his and separating in an easy smack. His nose tucks into your cheek, another glide of his mouth, four fingers turning back into three and a stretch, and you inhale sharply — everything coming back into focus. Your breath is winded, bosom heaving and nipples dragging across his tufts of chest hair. He’s so fucking warm, his freckle splattered skin stained red with flush, his aftershave sinking into the corners of your mouth, stubble tickling your chin, and inky pupils littered with cinnamon rings. His brows pinch together, pearly white teeth grinning lazily as he presses another kiss to your mouth the moment that you sigh into a shared breath.

“Welcome back, baby.”

His free hand reaches for your forearm above your head, fingers sliding along damp and salty skin, tickling across your palm and lacing with your own digits — squeezing.

“Mhm. Stevie…” His thick fingers buried in that scorching mess between your thighs is suddenly on the forefront. Holy shit he’d gone to town on you. The evidence has slicked down your ass and onto the bed sheets, that’s no secret.

“I tap out again for a second? Fuck, you’re so good.” You coo at him, enjoying how his eyes light up in a mirth unmatched.

He hooks your right leg around his lower waist, leaving the other lowered to where you’ve got it propped. His eyes find yours and he drinks you in as he pulls his fingers from you slowly, both of you letting out a choked moan. His thumb pad caresses your clit, his digits smacking your cunt and scattering some arousal. You jump, toes curling, digging into his waistline.

“Shit, honey, let me taste you first.” He’s teasing, smirking that Steve Harrington smirk, popping his sopping fingers into that plush mouth, making a real diabolical show of it.

You practically chase his touch, eager to sample yourself — whatever he’ll let you have. He wiggles his shiny fingertips and barely touches your bottom lip, teasing you, making you raise up — the action causing his very prominent erection to nudge your folds. You jump a little, that instinctual preparation that promises a very defining pain — working its way to the forefront. Steve shakes his head and swipes his fingers across your mouth, planting them on your hip to massage in soothing circles. You’re so fucking wet that you’ve already soaked him, and that makes holding back from taking what he wants that much harder.

“Easy, okay? Haven’t even tried to put it in yet. You know I’ll always ask you before I do, right?”

You nod, breathing in a few self-comforting breaths. It’s not that you’re terrified of the pain. Hell, your little kinky ass indulges in it most of the time, but there’s also that percentage that is nervous, that worries about how much it usually does hurt, (despite many orgasms and lubrication), or if you won’t be able to take him at all this time. His walnut strands tickle your cheek as he descends to nuzzle your nose with his own, reassuring hand still on your hip.

“You want it like this tonight?”

You nearly combust on the spot, body bowing to a magnetizing nostalgia of various positions he’d fucked you in; nice and deep, or ever-so-slow and fucking filthily. You can almost taste his sweat from thrusts he’s yet to initiate, feel the goosebumps pepper your flesh as his silky mane tickles your forehead, maybe even your neck and shoulder (it all depends on which way he has you, really). You aren’t quick enough to draw in your timid answer, starting to slip again, preparing to drift and seek him out. His fingers leave your hip and pull down on your bottom lip, releasing it with a plop as the digits head towards your jaw — strumming a slow scrape. “Babe?” He’s amused, questioning. “How do you want me?”

“I..” And your throat feels like it’s overworked, yet you’ve barely spoken. It drips with elated exhaustion, slowly clambering upright. “Right where you are. Get the stuff, honey.” You flip his nickname for you back onto him, and it has a reaction that crashes into his chest, making it swell in size for you.

He nods immediately, the hand that’s holding yours — leaving, but only to work open the bedside drawer in haste, fumbling clumsily as he decides to capture your bottom lip between his teeth — leaving little love pecks as an after motion. You can barely leave his mouth, his neck straining and flushed bright red, caked in sweat. He rolls back on his haunches, his heavy cock bobbing against his stomach and leaving a connective trail of your slick and his pre-cum to both, your thighs and his.

“Jesus,” he mutters in awe. You’re always so wet for him.

You do shift a little, relaxing your legs around his lower back and connecting your ankles. He has the lube bottle in hand, cracking its lid and wiggling his brows at you. A silent signal not missed, you present your palm and he squeezes out a good amount of gel in, tossing it onto the nightstand beside your head. And fuck, you really wish you had your Polaroid right now, because watching him inhale through clenched teeth, toned waist giving into a bunch, and licking a sharp swipe of his tongue across his lips, the moment that your hand is reaching forward to take him in your grasp — it’s forever seared into your pitiful, Steve-stamped retinas. Screw your pupils, might as well be little Steve’s there instead.

His breath trembles, caressing his tongue, body unprepared as your fingertips tap a tempo up his shaft, barely grazing, before moving back down again. His cock twitches, jumping in your hand, and that’s the moment that you take your chance and wrap your fist around him. He falls forward on hefty palms, fingers splayed beside your head, bunching your sheets in a white knuckled grip. This is one of the parts that you absolutely go to the outer limits for.

He mouths at your jugular, nose pathing up your neck and dragging across your chin until he’s able to kiss you and pant against your lips. “That’s it, baby. Use it however you want to. S’ all yours. Don’t need to be afraid of it. ”

That first sticky contact where he’s finally parting your folds turns you into a babbling mess, a wanton whimper tangled at your tongue’s tip. The fingernail of Steve’s thumb scrapes at your chin, tugging and encouraging your sounds to spill free. When you oblige, he slides that very digit into your mouth and presses, salt, his saliva, and your own musky essence pouring over your taste buds.

“That’s my good girl — shit!” You roll your tongue around his finger and take him down to the knuckle, your fist gliding across his length at an easy rhythm in a simultaneous thievery.

“Monster madness.” You whisper, letting your tongue flick around his thumb, before releasing.

He meets your mouth in a shared grin — all teeth, light laughs. “So I own a monster and a python, huh?” He winds your hair back behind your ear and you know it’s almost time. Your grip on him has loosened a little.

You share a heavy stare, a connection that doesn’t falter, even through one raise of his bushy brows. You watch in a marveling, drool-lathered wonder as the tendons in his wrist flex when his fingers separate, pushing your folds apart. They disconnect with an audible squelch, making you grip him tightly again — squeezing. A diagram-deep groan punches through his esophagus and claws its way from his mouth. “Oh. Fucking do somethin’, honey. Please…”

His voice sounds wet, like a hurricane is rising inside his lungs, battering his insides, and threatening to flood his throat — a desperation that finds an adjoining link within your own desires. As he still holds you open, you bring his purpling tip to your swollen clit, and with a blinking of newly tear stained lashes — you use him. He couldn’t stop it if he tried, another beading escaping him and helping the friction you’ve begun to stimulate you both with. Your knee jerks and he thrusts into your hand, his thick, full balls catching on your ass, your wetness having found a home there too. It’s all too messy to comprehend a clean up. And he doesn’t want to, if he’s being honest.

“Baby, you have the prettiest clit. God it feels so good, you know that? Don’t stop for me.” He’s shaking in his forearms, biceps rattled, muscles caving in. He’s not even inside of you yet and he’s already drenched and throbbing, about to blow his load.

Luckily, you know him as well as he knows you. And you release, quickly lifting your ass in a slight wiggle, legs still locked and now wound around his lower back. You give him one pleading command. “Split me open, Stevie.”

He takes an intoxicating initiative, finding your left hand to hold on tight, fingers leaving your cunt and wrapping around his glistening base, curls matted with your cream. This isn’t gonna last long. “Need more lube, baby?” He checks one last time, your head shaking

You’re fucking warm and soft when he drags his dick through the seam of you, teasing, slapping your inner thigh, your clit, finally teasing his head to that ring of nerves. “Fuck.” His hand lifts on your hand, knuckles smashing into your pillow case, palms held and fitted. You’re relaxed enough that you’re close to sucking him right in, and as soon as the head pops past your opening, he sees your eyes fill with tears. You dig your nails into the top of his hand, scratching, nearly breaking skin. What comes out of your mouth before he can say anything shocks him.

“H-hold on. Fuck, I think I’m gonna cum.”

Steve’s lips find your neck and they suck, bite, licking clean the evidence of a beginning claim. He has to stop himself from fucking you up the bed at this new knowledge. “Oh yeah? Feels that good?”

“Just go slow.” You whimper into a kiss he bestows, tongue greedily slinking into his mouth to take what you want.

He sees what you mean when he presses in a little more and is flooded with a fresh wave of cream, his eyes rolling back and clouding over. And that’s the moment he knows that he has to check in, because you sniffle. There it is.

“Honey? You alright?”

You’re trying to say you are, but it comes out as a broken “mhm” and you lick your lips, eyes focusing on the ceiling, sclera burning. It fucking stings, your body is telling you what it knows — that it’s gonna be too much, that you’ll be sore. But he’s so warm, so heavy inside, and he isn’t even completely there. You try to shove your hips and seek out more, only to be rebuffed. “Baby…” he warns, composure tilting over that precipice, wavering.

And the air changes, your body goes light, and that’s it.

“Come here.” Your hand that’s unheld, is digging into his hair, its soft strands becoming rising waves in the gaps between your fingers, tumbling over yourself to get to his mouth.

His knees help keep him above you, or else he’d collapse. You breathe in deep, releasing it against his lips when you part, your nipples prodding at his slippery flesh. Smashing your nose into his own, he nudges, he shifts, and you’re caught — his thick cock sinking into you. It’s not even half, but you cling to Steve through gasping cries and tear splattered lips, everything aching and throbbing. Your heart is racing so hard that you’re sure your bones are being dusted to ash.

Despite the nearly unbearable fire his size carries, your body welcomes him halfway in without anything else needed. Steve pauses, not just for you, but for himself and the ridiculous choppiness that he can’t even call breathing. He lifts your combined hands and kisses each finger, making you tighten around him and his hips shove forward. You both curse and he apologizes, to no avail. You’ve begun to beg him, and he thinks he might be in his own transitioning space.

“Honey — Baby, hold on, m’ tryna make it better for you.”

“More, I want it all, S-Steve… Don’t stop!”

“But you’re tensing on me —“

“Please, oh god, please — Steve!”

His control vanishes and his closed fist reaches the bottom of your folds as he helps himself push the rest of the way in — in two swift, squelching glides. His tip finds that spot right away, settled like a flesh tight glove, and it sets off a series of sparks, your throat barely able to let out a scream before your release squirts from your cunt and reaches the happy trail scattered around Steve’s navel. Yep, it’s over. He pulls your linked hands up and drapes them by his neck, pumping his hips on one good time, forehead sticking to yours, eyes wide and lips parted in disbelief, and he comes. Your exposed hands that aren’t together, they find one another and match the other two, lacing, pieced just right.

Steve crumbles and collapses on you, your breasts dripping with combined exertion, his pulse racing to stabilize, face burrowing on the swell of your chest. It’s a few silent moments — his cock softening inside you, your cunt brimming with his warm spend, and then he’s looking up at you from his spot. That five o’clock shadow surrounds his mouth, his pupils trying to normalize, and fuck — his own eyes have spilled moisture. Every freckle and mole is visible, his easy grin and silent apology starting, but you brush the hair of his forehead, enjoying his reddened cheeks.

“I love you, honey. Are you okay? Want me to—“ His own voice sounds discombobulated.

“Stay a little while with me, like this? Inside?” Is your airy soft response.

And now, now you think that Steve will be floating over the quarry with you. Particles that fuse together. Of time and space.

// eat me paragraph //

[foreverromanticising]

Two Hands! - Lando Norris

F1 Song Prompt List

mdni! 1.9k words inspired by 2 hands by tate mcrae and im VERY open to a part two or even an extended version of this concept bc i looooove it, thank u @pontiacbandittju for the idea

He could do casual, he could be nonchalant, he didn’t have to give his all to a girl that only wanted him in the dark of the night. But god did he want to. It was your idea to remain casual, to keep a good thing instead of tainting it with the pressure of a relationship, and Lando was happy to oblige under your premises of no strings attached. In retrospect, that seemed easier said than done as he was far more than attached now.

It started off during summer break when he was visiting Max in London thus spending much more time with Max and all of his friends that Lando was yet to meet. You wouldn’t have said you were a friend of Max but more so Pietra’s friend but being with her so often obviously meant you spent more time Max, then more time with his friends, thus more time with Lando. 

The first night you had met Lando was originally meant to be a very relaxed night at the pub down the road from Max and Pietra’s flat, but there was absolutely nothing relaxed about the way you were drinking that night. You weren’t sure how it happened, none of you were, Lando had insisted on shots and then Max kept buying rounds and you couldn’t remember if you had eaten dinner in order to line your stomach. With what came of the night you were sure you hadn’t eaten.

With every drink, the proximity between yourself and Lando grew smaller. Thighs pushed together with his fingertips playing with the ends of your hair, faces far too close and noses almost bumping. It was all smiles and soft touches, the pub offering a warmth that a London night could never amount to. Maybe it wasn’t the warmth of the pub causing the blush to creep onto Lando’s face, rather the pretty girl clinging to his side as he conversed with Max - God, he hoped you couldn’t notice.

Why had Max kept you hidden from him for so long? 

Nonetheless, the time came for everyone to call it a night and taxi back home. However, the excessive amount of drinks you had consumed that night soon caught up with you, your legs giving way as you stood up from the booth although Lando was quick to grab your waist and keep you upright. Once you had made your way outside, Max and Pietra bid you farewell for their apartment was only a block or two away, but not before ensuring you and Lando had a taxi booked to get home safely.

“Yeah, two stops, we’re good.” Lando nodded profusely, the alcohol flowing through his system making his far more enthusiastic than he usually would be.

Soon enough, his friends were out of his eyeshot and he nosed at your cheek, lips beginning to trail along your jaw and down your neck.

“So, back to my hotel then?” He wasn’t keen on wasting time or opportunities, however he wasn’t sure his sober self would be so forward with you but he couldn’t help it after feeling you so closely the whole night.

“We could just go back to my place?” You suggested, tilting your head back to allow him more access to your neck, not even thinking twice about the marks he could be leaving. 

It didn’t take him much convincing before you both piled into a taxi headed in the direction of your apartment. His hand found its home on your thigh, pushing the hem of your dress up the slightest bit as his fingertips danced higher up your skin. 

Before you knew it, you were outside your front door digging through your bag for your keys whilst Lando’s hands made their way up and down your body, his chest pressed tight to your back. You turned your head to sneak a glance at him, “Found them.” You were glad you could unlock your door with muscle memory for Lando’s lips captured yous before you could even try and open the door in a logical manner.

“Where’s your bedroom, pretty?’ His voice is laced with something dark, shutting the front door behind him, and leading your further back into your apartment once you point in the direction of your bedroom.

He starts off slow, fingers with a ghosting touch making their way from your waist and up your arm until your hand is intertwined with his. His nose bumps against yours for what feels like the millionth time tonight without properly kissing you as his other hand starts to play with the hem of your dress, hiking it up and up until your lace panties and hip bone are on show.

“It’s a pity they’re red, I hate red,” He trails his fingers along the waistband of your lace, refusing to dip them further despite the way your arch into his touch. “Gonna have to get rid of these, y’alright with that?” His breath is hot against your neck as you feel his teeth scrape along your skin.

“Please, Lan, just stop talking and do something,” You near enough rolled your eyes at him, not appreciating how long he was taking. “I need your hands, please.” The words left your lips as though it was painful to be without his touch.

He takes his two hands to pull your panties down your legs, helping you step out of them before pocketing them in the back of his jeans, earning a quizzical look from you. “Safe keeping.” He flashed a grin at you before you pushing you back onto your bed, towering his body over yours. His lips meet yours again and you can quite literally feel the smile off of him. His hands slide up to your waist, pushing your dress up again in the process, and you gather what he’s trying to do and help him slip the dress over your head until your laying bare below him.

Although, you don’t let the imbalance last for long before your leaning up to pop open the buttons of his shirt, not daring to break the kiss in the meantime. But Lando does, pulling away from your lips so he can get a good look at you as take his shirt off, peering up at him through your lashes before throwing his shirt to the side of your bedroom. The sight of you below him is one Lando wants etched into his memory forever. Seconds after, his jeans are thrown aside too to leave him in an alarmingly tight pair of boxers.

Your hand trails down his chest slowly, nails dragging along his skin causing goosebumps to arise on his skin, until you reach the waistband of his boxers. Your fingers slip under his boxers, only brushing along him for a moment before he captures your wrist. “No, you first.” He says through nearly gritted teeth, knowing he wouldn’t last another minute if you went any further.

He leans down to press kisses along every inch of your skin that he can get to, spreading your legs open so he can capture the skin of your thighs between his teeth before he drags his tongue over you and eliciting a sharp gasp from you. Your hands fly to his hair, fingertips wrapping around his curls to keep him in place whilst his mouth utterly laps at you.

He pulls away for a moment, looking up at you across the planes of your body, bared for him. He takes in the arch of your back, your hair sprawled across your pillow- “C’mon, please.” You near enough whine for him and it’s just what he needs to hear before he opens you up with his fingers. “Sorry, baby.” He presses a quick kiss to your hip bone as you writhe under his touch.

Keeping his fingers at work, he moves up your body and presses kiss along your skin as he works his way up. “Taking it so well, pretty. Wish you could see how you look like this, so pretty.” He whispers the words in your ear, nibbling at the shell as he can feel you drawing closer until your panting out his name like a surge of shockwaves has been sent through you. 

“Lan.” You wrapped your arm around his body, pulling him close to you as he slipped his fingers out of you and you had to fight back a whine. 

“That was good, yeah?”

Good didn’t seem like the word to describe it you thought, stars covering your sight. You knew that couldn’t be your last time with Lando and you set out to ensure that. He found himself spending more nights in your apartment than his own hotel during his summer break. His two hands had found a home on your body, getting to know your every curve, freckle, and scar.

The thought of what could be constantly crossed his mind, although not daring to bring it up to you again for one night he had asked: ‘Let me take you out for dinner, get you all dressed up.’ He said as his lips trailed over your collarbone, arms wrapped around your waist as he was helping you comedown from your high. ‘Why don’t we just keep this unlabelled? Something fun instead?’ You had answered after pondering over his question for a moment.

“Dinner can be fun too.” He answered, trying to hide the embarassment he was battling over being rejected.

“Dinner leads to something more,” You hummed, knowing dinner with Lando wouldn’t be a bad thing. If anything, you knew you would enjoy it. The two of you got along like a house on fire, a perfect fit for each other it seemed, but you were happy with your current arrangement.

You knew that when Lando’s summer break ended he would go back to jetting across the world every other week, you knew that was unsustainable for a relationship and you just weren’t sure that you could open yourself up to inevitably get hurt in the end. A casual night together every now and then, when you both just happened to be in the same place at the same time, was more than enough for you even if your heart was telling you otherwise.

But, Lando accepted your answer for what it was, not daring to push you into something you didn’t want even if he could feel an ache in his chest because of it. 

So, every few weeks when he ended up in London or you in Monaco, one of you would send your address to the other without another word spoken. It was a silent and casual agreement but it worked, for both of you. Casual was good, he could be casual but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to allow himself to pine in silence.

[dottores]

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, dottore is an asshole.

notes: monch i had fun w this one, this was not supposed to be the chapter but i had a spur of the moment idea that i had to run with.

AN INEXORABLE DEATH

“And what of the boy? The Eleventh seat has been empty long enough. It’s about time that Scapino has been replaced.”

Dottore pressed his lips together as Pulcinella pushed the subject for the fourth time, extending the meeting much longer than it needed to last. They had been there for hours already going back and forth about funding matters, upcoming missions, and the long term plan of when they would finally start going after the gnoses. Dottore was irritated--he had been irritated since early morning when he returned to his lab only to find that his experiment had failed--but now he was even more irritated because he should have just sent one of his damned segments to deal with this.

“We are not putting a child in the Eleventh seat,” Signora sighed, shaking her head as she looked back at Pierro. “Are we done here? I have business to attend to.”

“A child who survived the Abyss,” Pulcinella retorted sharply. “Can you say the same, Fair Lady? If I recall correctly, the abyssal energy was too intense for you to handle.”

Signora’s gaze darkened, lips twisting downward. Across from him, Dottore noticed how Pantalone's expression lightened, a smile gracing his lips as he watched the fight that was about to break out between the Fifth and Eighth.

Dottore thought this was all inconsequential. He had an important matter to bring up to Pantalone before he returned to his labs. It was nearly midday already--he had an entire research summary to get through before Lambda arrived early morning tomorrow and he wanted to get restarted on what he was doing last night to try to figure out where it had gone wrong. He didn’t care about the Eleventh seat or who would be…

Dottore’s thoughts trailed off as Pulcinella’s words echoed through his head, a child who survived the Abyss. Not many mortals could withstand the volatile energy in the Abyss… much less a child. Dottore’s interest was piqued, eyeing Pulcinella as he wondered where exactly he found the boy and what made him so different.

His mind raced with possibilities… Maybe he would be able to find out if he was brought into the higher ranks.

“Perhaps it would be worthwhile then,” Dottore spoke up, nearly rolling his eyes when he noticed how surprised Signora and Pulcinella looked at his interruption--he usually never spoke up in these meetings unless directly addressed. “The boy could be of use, I’d like to study why he was able to survive the Abyss.”

“You will not involve him in your twisted experiments, Dottore,” Pulcinella said. Dottore turned his attention to the other Harbinger, noting the defensiveness lacing his tone.

“I can involve any one of you in my twisted experiments, mayor, he is not exempt. Her Majesty has given me complete autonomy in my research should I think the results could give us the edge in the coming war. You would do well to remember that,” Dottore said coldly.

Pierro leveled a steady look onto each of them before shifting his gaze back across the long table to Capitano, “Enough. The Captain will observe the boy from afar, he will decide whether or not he is worthy of the Eleventh seat.”

Capitano nodded his head in response, “You will show me where the boy trains after the meeting, Pulcinella. I will have an answer by the end of the day so we can put this matter to rest.”

“If unruly behavior proves to be an issue after his appointment, I can always… adjust it,” Arlecchino said cryptically, the red x’s in her eyes burning as she looked over at Pierro, the corners of her lips turning upward. 

“Keep your tricks to yourself, Arlecchino,” Pulcinella said. “I will keep the boy in line.”

“If you say so,” Arlecchino murmured as she leaned back in her seat. Next to her, Columbina let out an airy laugh as if she were amused by the whole situation.

“So be it,” Pierro finally said, waving his hand. “This meeting is adjourned.”

Dottore rose to his feet, getting Pantalone’s attention and nodding his chin toward the door before he turned on his heel to leave the room. 

As soon as he was in the halls, he could breathe again. Dottore could see a winter storm brewing in the distance, the clouds gray and swirling dangerously over the peaks of the northern mountain range. The wind was already beginning to pick up, he could see the banners whipping around in the palace’s courtyard and new recruits struggling to push against the wind to get back into the palace from where they were training. 

“I assume that nod meant you have something to say to me,” Pantalone’s voice was amused as he finally strolled out of the meeting, a thin smile gracing his lips as he eyed Dottore. “If this is about the decrease in your funding, there’s nothing I can do about that until we’ve dealt with the situation in Morepesok. The Triglav have somehow managed to rope the port masters into making trade with Port Ormos and Dornman Port more difficult for us. I’m leaving in a few days to handle it myself if Arlecchino’s spiders prove useless.”

Dottore frowned, he hadn’t gotten to all of the letters left for him at his desk, he had been too busy finalizing a report. “My funding has decreased?” he asked, incensed.

Pantalone’s smile tightened, the corners of his eyes crinkling in annoyance as he realized that Dottore hadn’t yet known about the funding issue. “Yes.”

“Why is the Triglav still a variable? I vouched for you so that they could no longer get in the way of my research,” Dottore demanded, voice cold and sharp. “You were supposed to take care of this issue years ago.”

Pantalone’s eye twitched. “I wish that ridding an organization of influence was as easy as you make it seem, much less one that has been embedded in Snezhnayan politics and society for several centuries,” he said dryly. “What is it that you wanted then, if it wasn’t about the funding?”

Dottore was not amused.

Pantalone exhaled, eyes glancing out to the courtyard for a second before motioning for Dottore to follow him. Dottore frowned, glancing once more at the brutal winds that were nearly tearing the banners off of their hooks as he followed after him.

As soon as he stepped outside, Dottore frowned. The coldness didn’t bother him too much but he didn’t like the way the wind and rain felt against his skin, stinging his cheeks over and over again. Pantalone did not seem affected by the weather, instead making his way down a path toward the overhang on the opposite side of the courtyard. 

“Is it about them?” Pantalone asked as they walked. Dottore could barely hear him over the howling wind and he realized that was exactly why Pantalone had led them out there--to prevent unwanted ears from overhearing. His gaze drew back to where they had been standing, where Arlecchino and Brighella were finally stepping out of the meeting room. “Hm? Do you finally want me to look for them?” 

Pantalone looked pointedly at Dottore’s thumb and Dottore caught onto what he was saying. His lips flattened in annoyance. 

“No,” he said firmly. Pantalone’s eyes gleamed at the sharp, quick answer, Dottore nearly rolled his eyes as he waited for the incoming dig.

“You didn’t even pause to think… it’s been a few years, I’m sure the fourth phase has started by now… does she not reach out to you?” Pantalone smiled thinly, he was mocking Dottore. “Is that why it's such a sensitive subject?”

“She does,” Dottore said--he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to indulge Pantalone’s bait. 

Every morning, every night, and usually during the day too, he wanted to add. The fourth phase had begun a few months back and she had immediately taken advantage of it, asking him all sorts of questions, telling him good morning and good night and asking how his day went. She was relentless, he would’ve respected the persistence had it not been driving him into a wall.

Dottore never responded. 

Sometimes he was tempted when he found himself leaving the labs early and his arm was stinging lightly, indicating that she was reaching out again and an odd feeling began stirring in his chest, something akin to longing that he couldn’t afford to give in to. He had already let her affect too much and he couldn’t risk it getting worse. 

He had been able to separate himself from her almost completely after receiving that word from her two years ago but his resistance was faltering now that the fourth phase had begun. No one had ever shown any sort of interest in him like this before and it was making him uncomfortable--he was used to being alone, only having his segments for company and even then, he sent them away most of the time. He didn’t like that someone else was trying to attach themself to him.

He needed to cut it off but he just couldn’t bring himself to. He caught himself toying with the words late at night: stop asking me questions, you are bothering me, I have no interest in a soulmate, I don’t need a soulmate, what is it going to take for you to finally understand that I don’t care for you? That I don’t want you? But every time he was going to bring himself to transfer the words to her, he preoccupied himself with something else--a project, a report, a random letter he remembered he never responded to. He knew deep down that he was just distracting himself so that he didn’t have to admit that he couldn’t send those words to her but he refused to acknowledge it.

“Fix this,” Dottore said, his voice harsh and cruel. His temper was waning and being pressed about his soulmate was forcing him to face an unpleasant reality--his own weakness. Pantalone looked taken aback at his words, Dottore continued, turning the topic back to the previous subject. “You understand who we are and you understand what you’re here to do. The only reason you were given the Ninth seat was to make the political scene on the homefront more manageable so we can finally make plays for the gnoses in other nations. Use the resources we’ve given you to do so or we will find someone that will.”

Pantalone stared at him, expressionless. The faux smile that usually graced his lips was gone, replaced by a cold, empty look, “I said I was handling it, did I not?”

Dottore only let out a quiet noise, one of dismissal, not bothering to spare him another look as he turned on his heel to walk back into the palace. What he had wanted from Pantalone could be handled another day--now, he just wanted to get back to his lab and finish his work before Lambda’s arrival because he knew that would be a headache in itself. 

Walking down the hall, Dottore withheld the urge to slip off his mask and press his fingers to the bridge of his nose. He felt like a broken record, he was stuck in a cycle that he couldn’t tear free of and as much as he wanted to point the blame at her and the gods, he knew fault laid partly on himself as well.

Because he was weak. Dottore was a proud man, an arrogant one. He knew who he was and what he was capable of, he believed himself to be above mortal and yet he still laid chained to human emotion. It was hubris that blinded him into believing that he would not be affected by the unwelcome development of the thread years ago and it was hubris still that led him to be incapable of admitting that acceptance of the bond might logically be the best route to take.

He could not admit to himself that there was no way to sever the thread because that meant years of research were for naught. He could not admit to himself that he was better off accepting the bond because that meant that over a decade of denial and centuries of learning how to view his lack of a soulmate as a strength rather than a weakness were a waste. 

He just couldn’t.

But that was the way of science, a part of him argued, a failed hypothesis must be adjusted into a new one. You adapt and continue.

“Doctor, there you are,” a familiar, whimsical voice hummed from behind him. “I was looking for you.”

Dottore glanced over his shoulder, suspicion pricking at each and every one of his cells as his eyes fell upon his fellow Harbinger. 

Nothing ever good came from being sought out by the Damslette. 

“What do you need?”

“Nothing,” Columbina said softly, “I just wanted to see it up close, that’s all.”

Dottore’s brows furrowed beneath his mask, trying to figure out what she meant, but he felt cold as Columbina reached out, gloved fingers brushing against the red thread that only he and his soulmate were supposed to be able to see. 

“It’s so bright,” she whispered. “I’ve never seen one this bright before, your bond must be strong.”

Dottore’s lips parted as if to speak but no words left them. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say--did he want to demand to know how she could see the thread? Or deny that the bond was strong? He hadn’t even spoken a word to the girl, how could the bond be strong?

“You see it?” he finally asked, curiosity getting the best of him as always. In all of his research, he had never heard of someone being able to see other peoples’ threads before. 

Columbina only smiled, face turning up toward him but her eyes were still slid shut peacefully. “I see everything,” she replied, voice airy and cryptic. “The stars and the sky, all of the ties that bind, I can see it all.”

Dottore felt unsettled. He wasn’t sure he had ever felt unsettled before but Columbina wasn’t even looking at him, not really at least, but somehow he felt as if she could see right through the mask he wore, peering deep into the soul that he denied to see him wholly and he felt stripped and bare of all of his armor. He had known that the Damslette caused a lot of unnerving feelings throughout their ranks, her presence tended to make their subordinates and even some of the lower-ranked Harbingers uncomfortable, but he had never experienced it for himself, not like this.

“I would like to meet her when she comes here,” Columbina finally said before continuing down the hall. “Have a good day, doctor.”

Dottore stared after her and then down at where the thread was tied around his thumb, too bewildered to even realize that she had said when and not if.

You figured that he was just busy--the same thing you told yourself whenever he ignored your goodnight tugs and good morning tugs. He was simply too busy to respond to you whenever you asked how his day was, when you told him good morning and good night, when you wished him luck with whatever he was working on. 

You tried not to let it deter you. 

He was just busy, that was all.

You let out a sigh as you sat down at your father’s old desk. The wood was dusted over and the papers were scattered around just as he left it. No one had dared enter the room since his death three years ago--not a maid, not your mother, not even yourself. This was your first time setting foot in his office since the last time he had called you in there himself. 

It was a bit messier than he usually kept it, you noticed that his coat stand was knocked over sideways in the furthest corner of the room and there were a few coins strewn against the floor next to it. His coat was still dangling off it--if only barely--and your throat felt tight as you rose to your feet, making your way over to the coat.

You took in a shaky breath as you reached out to grab it. 

As soon as your fingers brushed the wool, you drew back. 

Maybe you should just leave, you thought to yourself, glancing back to the door, considering just trying again another day. You thought you had been ready--it had been three years since his death, you thought you had been ready to start clearing things out of his office. The court officials had been gracious as to not rush you into it, giving you all of the time you needed to mourn and process his death, but you knew that the clock was ticking. Your father was dead and there had been many promotions in the past few years to keep the growing dissent in the city at bay, more space was needed, your father’s office was needed. 

You exhaled again slowly, grabbing the coat so you could fold it and place it in a pile at the door for you to bring back to your room, but as soon as you got hold of the coat, you smelt him. Even after all of the years, it still smelt like him. Your throat felt swollen and your vision blurred as you clutched your father’s jacket close to your chest. If you closed your eyes, you could almost imagine him there in the room with you, patting your back as he told you to sit down and help him with his paperwork.

You used to hate it, rolling your eyes and grumbling whenever he passed you some of the documents to read over and summarize for him to lighten his workload. He claimed that it was good practice for when you took over from him eventually and maybe he was right, but you only ever cared about your words and learning more about them because you wanted to get to know your soulmate better. 

You regretted it. Now your father was gone and you were left with a soulmate who didn’t seem to give a shit about your existence. And it had all been so sudden, the same day you had turned down his request for you to come to his office so you could go to the gardens and read. You had noticed he looked a bit under the weather but you figured he was just exhausted from the long day at court he had the day before. 

And then he was dead, just like that. 

One of the officers of the city police found him collapsed on his floor. The city’s head coroner claimed it was a heart attack. They said that nothing could’ve been done to prevent it. You weren’t so sure, all you could think about were the what-ifs and the could’ve beens. 

What if you had gone with him when he asked? What could’ve happened if you had been there? Would you’ve been able to get him help? Or would you just have had to witness it happening first hand?

It was all you could think about, all the time. You rarely left your room, you couldn’t even bring yourself to sit in the library because it just made you sad, reminding you of all of the hours you spent there after blowing off your father to figure out what some stupid word on your forearm meant.

You were lonely. You were so goddamn lonely that you didn’t even know what to do with yourself besides mull over all of the possibilities. You felt like there was a hole ripping through your chest, an ache that never went away. You didn’t know if it ever would go away. 

You took in a ragged breath, biting back a sob as you tried to calm yourself down. You failed.

You thought you might hate your soulmate. Or maybe not hate, resent was a better word for it. So much of your life had been centered around him, influenced by him--your whole upbringing and being taught to hide such an integral part of yourself was because he was in Snezhnaya; your lack of friends growing up was because you were forced to hide the fact that you had a soulmate and obviously, there must be something wrong with you if Celestia didn’t bless you; you spent hours on hours, days on days in the library trying to understand him for when the two of you finally met; and even now, you tried to distract yourself from the damning reality of your family and the mess it had become by trying to talk to him and he ignored you.

He ignored you. 

There were only so many times you could convince yourself that he was just busy. How busy could he be if he couldn’t even say hello, if he couldn’t tell you good morning, if he couldn’t tell you goodnight or tell you how his day was when you asked. You thought maybe that he wasn’t receiving his words but you had done so much research trying to figure out if that was a possibility and there had been no known instances of it.

He was ignoring you--it was the logical, rational answer but you just couldn’t wrap your head around it, you couldn’t face the truth because then it really did mean you wasted your life focusing on someone that probably didn’t even care about you.

Calm down, you told yourself. Calm down. 

But it was hard. 

You felt so alone all the time. You had no friends. Your mother was constantly busy with court affairs. Your stepfather kept Sylvie and Elliot busy, you barely even saw them in passing anymore. The only one to really reach out to you to see how you were doing was your grandfather but even he was run to the ground with his duty as warden of the Black Cells. 

You tried to distract yourself by trying to make conversation with him, your soulmate, but it was futile. He never responded. No matter how hard you tried.

Your hands were shaky as you finally let your father’s coat drop from your chest, fingers trembling as you folded the coat to place it in the box you had set up near the door. You had to figure out what all you were going to bring back to your room--you figured you needed to get all of the papers out of here. You didn’t know if any of them had sensitive information and you didn’t want to risk anything falling into the wrong hands.

You tried to focus as you dropped down to your hands and knees but your mind felt muddled. As you started stacking them in a neat pile, you caught sight of your father’s bookshelf from the corner of your eye. Right in the middle was a familiar set of books with a silver and gold binding, one that you hadn’t seen since you were a child.

Longing, sadness, guilt--you couldn’t tell what the feeling stirring up your chest was as you rose back to your feet to make your way over to the bookcase, body moving on autopilot. A small smile tugged at your lips as you stared at the six volumes lined up of Princess Mina and the Fallen Nation, the old book collection that your father used to read to you before bed before your stepfather had arrived in Fontaine and your father moved back to the city. 

Even years later, he always laughed with your grandfather over how you used to force him to read the fifth volume about the argument between the Princess Mina and the samurai over and over and over again, to the point that he knew how to recite it word for word. Your mother scolded him every time--said the series was by no means acceptable for a child--but he only ever winked at you and promised that this would be the last time. A lie, of course, and your mother knew it, if the way she rolled her eyes had anything to say about it.

You wondered if he kept the set lined up to remind him of the good days--the days before your stepfather.

You reached for the fifth volume, your smile fading a bit when you noticed that it was lighter than you expected. Your brows furrowed as you opened the book, realizing that the majority of the pages had been cut out in the shape of a square--a hidden pocket to hide treasures, just like how the Princess had done in the sixth volume to hide her plans from the samurai. 

Your chest felt heavy as you reached for what was laying inside: a letter in your father’s handwriting, stained with faded droplets of blood, and a Fatui insignia.

“This is getting out of hand.”

Dottore looked up as a familiar voice rang loud and icy throughout the lab. His eyes drew up to a familiar form, one identical to his own--the Lambda segment had finally arrived. Dottore placed his pen down on the lab table, raising his eyebrows as he waited for him to continue.

“The other segments are out of control, not that you would know considering you sent them away for me to deal with,” Lambda told him, placing down the bag he was carrying on the lab table as he stood across from Dottore. “The younger segments are haywire over the thread, they haven’t calmed down once since it first appeared and now even some of the older segments are starting to become more aggravated--Delta and Rho are pushing on behalf of Iota and Gamma. Epsilon has made his opinion well known since he got word of it. Even Theta has started to ask more questions. I will not deal with it anymore.”

“You will do whatever I order you to do, Lambda. Don’t forget what you are,” Dottore warned. “Sit down, I called you here to report on your research not to hear your opinion.”

“Is that not why I was created?” Lambda did not back down, not a hint of emotion seeped through the vacant expression painted on his face. Red eyes void of any sort of feeling or weakness, any sort of hesitation. “An objective perspective, untainted by human vices and folly to prevent us from falling victim to them so it does not affect our goals. I am telling you that this needs to be handled. Now. It is already impeding our research. We’ve lost over ten years of progress because of this distraction.”

Most of the segments had learned to repress human emotions over time--some were never able to, like the younger segments and Theta, while others like Delta, Rho and Zeta, had decent control over their emotions but still often fell victim to outbursts of rage and irritation. 

Lambda did not have to learn as he had none.

Dottore valued all perspectives when it came to his research. He created versions himself frozen in time at some of the most formative moments of his life: being chased from his village, being accepted into the Akademiya as a scholar, being outcast from the Akademiya, brought into the Fatui as a recruit and then his promotion to Harbinger. A version of himself too young to fully understand the cruelty of the world and a version of himself whose mind developed and adapted over time. A version of himself with too much humanity and a version of himself without any.

It had been difficult influencing the essence of the Irminsul branches to create the Epsilon and Lambda segments as he was not simply freezing a previous mindset of himself in time and placing it into a vessel. He had to engineer the fundamental aspects of each of the cores that housed the consciousness of the segments to manipulate the way that they did--or did not--process emotions and he had to be careful enough so that it was still inherently him but different, allowing him a new perspective in his research that was more than just him frozen in time at a younger point of his life.

It had taken several attempts and many failures but three centuries ago he had finally been able to create Lambda, a segment who cared for nothing but the expansion and success of his experiments, his very existence laid upon his ability to bring their research to new ends without the shackles of humanity binding him because so much as Dottore liked to believe he was able to extinguish any and all emotion he might feel, he knew logically it was impossible and he had to factor that in when it came to results. The Lambda segment had an objectivity in his perspective that none of the other segments, or Dottore himself, were able to obtain--influenced by the past and repressed emotions, even if it was subtly enough that it could not be seen on the surface.

Epsilon had been created later--the antithesis of the Lambda segment, a segment that could process humanity on a level beyond what Dottore or any of the other segments were capable of. Dottore hadn’t seen the benefit in creating a segment like that but the Zeta segment had pushed for it, saying that it was unwise to create one extreme without another to balance it out, it led to biased results. Dottore had a feeling that the Zeta segment was simply sick of having to take care of the Kappa segment but there was no fault in his logic. 

Thus, half a century after the creation of the Lambda segment, the Epsilon segment came into existence. 

“I am handling it,” Dottore said sharply. “Sit down and report.”

“This is my report,” Lambda, unlike the other segments, did not back down when Dottore made demands of him that he did not agree with. It was Dottore’s own fault, he had given Lambda authority over the other segments because of his impartiality and it made him arrogant. “My research has been disrupted and I will not be able to continue it until this situation is properly handled. Thus, I’m requesting all of the information you have on the distraction so I can handle it myself.”

Dottore’s lips thinned, gaze steadying on Lambda. “No.”

Lambda raised his eyebrows, “No?”

“You are a segment, not a mimic,” Dottore said, poison lacing his tone. “I said no. Return to Sumeru and continue your research. No harm is to come to the girl, we don’t know how it will affect us.”

Lambda stared at him and Dottore knew exactly what the segment was thinking.

It won’t affect me.

“It should not affect you at all unless you’ve become attached to the mere idea of her, that’s the only way the loss of the bond can affect someone who has not met their ‘soulmate’,” his voice gave way to no emotion but Dottore knew it was an accusation, that him throwing out the word soulmate was meant to be a mockery, a dig at the other segments, a dig at him.

“You created me to make sure we continue to do what is best for our research,” Lambda continued coldly. “I will do just that. Handle it or I will. You are doing exactly what you said you wouldn’t do and it is impeding our progress.”

Dottore inhaled sharply, his temper spiking--he was barely able to control himself, tone venomous as he spoke, “And what exactly is that? What am I doing, Lambda?”

“Getting attached,” Lambda said. “You’re allowing yourself to be weak and that in turn is making all of us weak. The weakness is inhibiting our ability to make headway on our research and if you can’t even see that then…”

Lambda trailed off, he didn’t have to finish what he was going to say, Dottore already knew. If you can’t even see that then maybe you’re too far gone already.

“Get out,” Dottore said, restraining the blizzard of emotions that were whirling inside him. Fury, not only at Lambda and the blatant disrespect but also at himself because he remembered the nights he prepared to tell her that enough was enough and he had no desire to have a soulmate and he remembered all of the times that instead of transferring the words to her, he instead chose to preoccupy himself with a new project. “The only one impeding my research right now is you. If you weren’t going to bring anything worthwhile, you should have remained in Sumeru.”

Lambda was right, Dottore had allowed himself to get attached to the faceless figure on the other side of his thread even after all of the insurances he had put in place to prevent this from happening. He didn’t even know how it happened, he had been certain that after he had received that word from her, he was done with it all. It had to have been subtly over the course of the past decade and a half, slow enough for it to creep in, in a way that he couldn’t notice on his own, in a way that he could still keep himself convinced that he had no attachment to her--like a slow, inevitable death.

Distantly, he realized that he wouldn’t have even cared about the word cursed showing up on his forearm to begin with unless he had gotten attached to her. It should have had no effect on him.

“Once she learns what you are, what we are, she will leave anyway. You know that. No one wants to be bonded with a monster.” 

Lambda didn’t say anything else as he left the lab and as soon as the door shut behind him, Dottore’s shoulders slumped and he pressed his head against his hands, elbows resting on the table as he massaged his face, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. 

Severing the thread was not possible.

Are you sure? A part of him questioned, or had you just not been looking into it hard enough because deep down you didn’t want it severed?

Dottore’s lips twisted. That was not the case. He had tried. He had spent years researching it, trying to figure out what could be done. Not only for his own sake but for hers too.

If you can’t sever through science then…

His arm stung, a familiar feeling that he had grown used to over the past few months. He didn’t even want to look down and see what she was asking him. It was late--if he had to guess, it was probably either the daily goodnight or she had felt his volatile emotions and wanted to know if he was okay. 

How was your day?

Dottore shut his eyes, finally making a decision. 

If you can’t sever through science then it must be done emotionally.

The city was cold--there was a winter storm blowing south from the northern lands that had the windows creaking and rattling. The fireplace burned hot on the other side of the room but somehow you still felt cold, staring down at your food as you waited for your grandfather to finish reading the letter that your father had left for you and the insignia that he had stashed with it. 

You didn’t know what to do. You had sat on the letter for days now, reading it over and over and over again until the words were branded on your brain and you could recite them without even having the letter in front of you. 

Your father spoke of blasphemy, sacrilege--a crime that would have your stepfather thrown beneath the city into the black cells for the rest of his life, a crime that could have your siblings cast out from the highest tiers of the Fontaine court, shunned and outcast for their father’s transgressions against the court and the gods. 

Faking a bond. Being a Snezhnayan infiltrator. 

You had heard rumors of the first before--long forgotten techniques of ancient Snezhnayan strigoi who masked as mortals and toyed with mens’ minds to lure in their prey. You thought that they were just old wives’ tales to scare young girls and boys but your father seemed certain in his letter that your stepfather was somehow faking the bond with your mother and you weren’t sure if you wanted to believe it was true or not… because then that meant you life was ruined not because your mother had finally found happiness in her soulmate, even if you did not like him, but instead it meant that he was manipulating her mind. 

“There is not enough proof,” your grandfather finally said, knuckles tight and tense around the parchment as he read what you believed was your father’s last words before his death. “If we present this to Her Excellency, it will be a challenge of our word against his. He will have your mother’s support and her family’s, the President of the Research Institute will back them and he’s gained a lot of influence throughout the city with the recent energy developments.”

Energy developments, you thought bitterly, they were only a temporary solution to the apparatus crisis happening throughout the city but even if the solution was only temporary, it eased the stress on the civilians and elite alike, and it made them view him in a better light. As if the whole crisis wasn’t his fault to begin with. 

Your lips twisted, grip on the hem of your shirt tightening, “The Commissioner will side with us,” you said. “Wrio is going to take over soon. I can talk to him.”

Wriothesley. He was the one you were meant to marry in the coming years. You didn’t talk to him often, both of you were always busy with your own duties, but you had always gotten along well enough when you were together. He was born with a black mark--a dead soulmate. You thought he was a good man but he was always sad. People thought it was a miracle that he could even function being born with a dead soulmate but you didn’t think it was so surprising. He never got to have a soulmate, he never knew what he lost and that was what usually killed: knowing that you could’ve had it all, or even having it all, but then it being ripped away from you.

“People are not happy with the city police,” your grandfather said. “Elites and civilians.. I don’t know how much help the Commissioner’s support would be.”

Your head hurt. You shut your eyes briefly. There were five positions of influence in Fontaine, each of them passed down through the nation’s five most elite families--the Chief Justice, the Warden of the Black Cells, Commissioner of the City Police, Chief of the Gendarmerie, and the President of the Research Institute, who also handled the cities infrastructure. Your grandfather was the current Warden and his closest friend was the Commissioner… but the influence of the positions was not uniform, especially over the past ten years. 

The Chief Justice was always the most popular of the five positions--Neuvillette was the current one and you knew he would remain neutral should things escalate. He was the one that controlled everything--the Hydro Archon’s voice, her eyes and ears whenever she didn’t join him in court. Everyone wanted to be close to him because they thought that him viewing them in a more positive light would be the difference between freedom and the rest of their life spent in the Black Cells. They were wrong, of course, Neuvillette wouldn’t let personal relationships cloud his judgment but you couldn’t really blame them for trying. 

The Warden was always an unpopular but powerful position, many of the elite and especially the civilians feared him, knowing that should they slip up once, their lives would be in his hands. The Commissioner of the City Police’s popularity has been on a steadily downward trend since rebellion began stirring in the city. The civilians thought that the police were too harsh on them but the elites thought that they’re not being harsh enough, which is why the epidemic of dissent kept spreading. They were resented on all sides. 

On the other hand, the Chief of the Gendarmerie was only becoming more popular, your uncle held the position, but you thought it was stupid because the only reason why he was so popular was because he had nothing to do in the city. There was no reason for the civilians and the elite to hate him because he dealt with policing the countryside--which usually only consisted of dealing with rogue hillichurls and the occasional band of treasure hoarders. If the Gendarmerie had to handle Fontaine’s population like the city police did, they would be just as unpopular. 

And the President of the Institute had been unpopular for nearly a decade--he was blamed for the energy crisis, rightfully, but he and his officers found that temporary solution so his popularity skyrocketed because the people no longer had to deal with unstable heating during the winter and the city’s power going in and out once every few hours. You figured the popularity spike would disappear once the apparati failed again but that didn’t help you now.

Your throat spasmed as you swallowed. “I don’t understand,” you said. “Are we just supposed to let this go? He’s Fatui, he’s lying to my mother, and he killed father because father started asking questions. Am I supposed to just share a dinner table with him and act like everything is fine?”

“We have no proof,” you went quiet as your grandfather leveled a steady gaze onto you. “We can accuse him as much as we want. We can show Chief Justice Neuvillette and the Hydro Archon your father’s letter and the insignia but when it comes down to it it will be a battle of words, and we will lose. The only witness that might’ve been able to convince the Hydro Archon is dead.”

You thought you might cry. You could feel the tears of frustration stinging your eyes. You thought that by bringing this to your grandfather would be the answer to all of your questions, that he would know what to do and they would be able to throw that weasel  of a man beneath the city, let him rot in the Black Cells. 

“If we accuse him of being Fatui, the Hydro Archon will act,” you hissed. “I’m not stupid, I know that this all has escalated because the north is planning a rebellion against the gods-”

“Quiet.”

“She will do something,” you finally said, catching the anger in your grandfather’s eyes as you spoke of the taboo subject. “She hunts down anyone affiliated with Snezhnaya, if he is accused of being a Fatui spy, she’ll act.”

“Neuvillette will intervene,” your grandfather shook his head. “He knows that if the Hydro Archon tries to imprison him without a proper trial, it will turn the elite against her. They are already nervous, if they see her targeting one of their own, it will rip their security blanket off. He will make sure that this is taken to trial and if it is taken to trial then we will lose. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” you said but your voice was thick and you weren’t sure if you were angry or upset. You rose to your feet, food untouched. “Excuse me for a second.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond before you were walking out of the dining room toward the bathroom. As soon as you shut the door behind you, you let yourself crumble--sitting on the ground with your knees tucked to your chest and your body trembling. You thought it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that your father was gone and it wasn’t fair that your stepfather had done it and he was just going to get away with it. Fontaine was supposed to be the city of justice but corruption ran rampant throughout the streets. You were sick of it.

You exhaled shakily, trying to calm yourself down, instead focusing on your forearm. You hated that even though he clearly wanted nothing to do with you, you still turned to him whenever you were breaking down. You hated even more that it worked every time.

How was your day?

You knew you wouldn’t get a response. You never did. Sometimes you liked to imagine what he might be doing--buried in research and experiments, facing the frustrations of failure left and right. Realistically, he was just ignoring you. You had come to terms with that. But still, you enjoyed indulging yourself in the delusions sometimes. 

But this time was different, there was a spike of emotion from him--anger--and you rarely ever felt anything from him, much less something this strong seemingly in response to your question. Maybe he had a bad day, you thought to yourself, swallowing thickly, but then your arm stung. It was subtle, something you barely even noticed but you knew what it was. 

Your gaze turned down to your forearm and as your eyes fell to the words branded on your skin, your heart sunk. 

Enough. I have no interest in having a soulmate. 

You stared, numb, at the words, waiting for them to change, wondering if you were reading them wrong. You knew you weren’t and you thought that you shouldn’t be as upset as you were but your whole chest felt as if it was caving in on itself, you felt like no matter how fast or deep you breathed in, none of the air was getting to your lungs.

You knew this, you told yourself, trying to calm yourself down again. You had known this deep down. It was inevitable. He had been ignoring you for months--longer than that, really, ever since you were a child and you would tug your thread before bed, waiting for him to tug it back. But you supposed it didn’t matter how much you might’ve known that it was true because you never expected him to be so… blunt about it, and you couldn’t help but hold out hope that maybe those delusions you fancied so much might prove to be true

You thought, maybe, that a part of you might have died right there.

Rejection. In everything you had read about soulmates, you didn’t think you had ever heard of someone being rejected by theirs. You stared at your thread, you wondered if it would sever at his words, if it would crumble to dust or blacken. You waited but it never happened, it still was tied around your finger, bright and leading to the north.

To the north.

You inhaled sharply, eyes widening as realization struck. Your body moved on auto pilot as you rose to your feet to leave the bathroom but your hands still shook, teeth clenched together as you tried to fight through the pain of being rejected by the one person in the world meant to accept you. Your grandfather turned his head when he heard the bathroom door slam hard behind you but before he could voice his disapproval, you were speaking.

“If proof is the issue, I’ll get it myself,” you said, voice stronger than you expected it to be as you told your grandfather your plan. “I’ll go north and I’ll get the evidence, and then we can throw that murderer in the cells beneath the city and bring justice to father.”

RBS APPRECIATED!

[caraetdeul]

A Bouquet of Breakdowns

Choi Seungcheol x fem!reader

Sometimes, life is a bride that just gives a whole ass bouquet of problems in one throw.

TW: breakdowns, stressed reader

a/n: hi so this is more of a self-indulgent fic. I've been so stressed lately and I may have inserted my own situation in this fic in a very detailed way too much, so sorry bout that. But other than that, hopefully everything's good at your end of the screen but if not, hopefully this fic will help you in any way possible. Enjoy reading caratdeuls!

~Main Masterlist~

I’ve got a pocket, got a pocket full of sunshine

I got a love and I know that its all mine, oh oh

Do what you want but yo—

Seungcheol groaned, trying to reach out for his phone on his nightstand in his sleepy state. Letting you change his ringtone to this song may be a mutual decision for the sake of comedic timing but right now, all he wants is to just throw his phone out the window.

“Whoever decided that 2 o’clock in the morning was a good time to call was definitely gonna taste the wrath of a sleep deprived Cheo—”

“Oh thank God you answered!”

He paused for a second, his brain trying to comprehend the urgency in your brother’s voice. Once his brain caught up to the moment, he sat up immediately.

“What do you mean, Chan?”

“I’ve been trying to call noona for 30 minutes now and she’s still not answering her phone. I’m panicking right now hyung. I don’t know what to do!” Cheol can already hear Chan’s pacing from his end of the line and knew that he was already at the brink of a panic attack.

“Hey, hey, hey calm down for a bit. What do you mean you’ve been calling your sister for a while now? Isn’t she in her room probably sleeping right now?”

“That’s the thing! She isn’t! I went in her room to borrow something from her but when I entered, she wasn’t there! Oh god, this can’t be happening right now.”

“Okay, breathe Chan. I’ll go help find her. Do you have any idea where she might have gone to?”

He heard Chan take a deep breath before answering slightly more calmly than before, “Try the park behind the church. I do remember her telling me something about the garden there and how she goes there sometimes.”

“Okay, thanks Chan.” Cheol stood up, immediately searching the vicinity for a shirt and his wallet and keys.

“Wait, I’m coming with you.” He can already hear a door slam shut before Chan even finished his sentence.

“No, stay there in case she comes back. I’ve got this.” The call went silent for a bit and Cheol can feel his hesitance to follow his instructions. But even then, Chan knew he was right and can only sigh in agreement.

“Okay, fine. Just call me back once you find her, please.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, hyung. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“No worries, Chan. I’ll do anything for the both of you.”

Once the call ended, Cheol rushed to his car, praying to every single higher being he can remember at the moment that you were alright. He wasn’t really shocked with how your brother reacted to your sudden disappearance. Ever since you were children, all he could remember was how you took care of your little brother all by yourself. Your parents were always too busy for the both of you thus, you were left with all the responsibilities in your home including being a parent for your own brother. Because of this, Chan decided that he was gonna be your protector in any way that he can be. So it was no shock that he would react this way.

It took him around 15 minutes before he reached the town’s church. He parked the car by the sidewalk before walking towards the back of the church where the park is found. Chan didn’t really specify the garden that you mentioned but he had a slight clue as to what it might have been. You were always fond of the hydrangeas that bloomed at this time of the year. He can remember how pretty you looked under the light of the sunset as you explained how hydrangeas can grow in groups but still retain a unique beauty for each flower. He then remembered how you further sprouted random facts about them and all he’s thinking about is how much he loves your nerdy side.

Walking through the park, he tries calling out your name but there were no response. As he neared the garden hidden at the very end of the park, he can slightly hear a melody being played from a phone. Once he got closer to the sound, he sighed in relief when he clearly heard the lyrics to your favorite song. It was only then that he realized how stiff his whole body was from panic, only relaxing when he sees your form lying on the grass and watching the stars above. He sent a text to your brother to let him know you’re safe. As soon as he received a text back, he walked towards your direction, careful not to spook you too much.

“You do know that phones are made primarily for texting and calling, right?” You immediately turned to the direction of the sound, scared for your life. But once you see your boyfriend’s face, you relaxed your hold on your pepper spray and took a deep breath to calm your nerves down.

“What the hell, Choi? You scared the shit out of me.”

“Well to be fair, you scared me first what with you disappearing in the middle of the night and not even telling anyone about it.”

“Okay, fair. Sorry about that.” You sheepishly smiled at him in an attempt to look apologetic as he lies down next to you.

“Apology accepted.” Cheol stretched out his arm to you, letting you cuddle up to him, “but i can’t promise any forgiveness from your brother any time soon. He was about to burn the whole house down in panic trying to find you.”

“Oh god.” Cheol chuckled at your response. He can already hear the gears in your head running and trying to find an acceptable peace offering for your brother. For a few minutes he let you dwell in your thoughts, knowing all too well that you’ve already moved past that and now deciding on whether or not you would share the whole reason why you’re out here at this time of night.

“So,” Cheol started, “want to talk about it?”

You hummed. Biting your lips, you said the first thing that came into your mind, “I don’t really know where to start.”

“That’s okay. Take your time. We’ve got all night.” His hold on you tightened for a bit, letting you know that he’s there for you no matter what. You don’t know what you did to deserve him but you thank God so much that he let you two meet because you don’t know how you will ever survive this world without him in your life.

“I’m overwhelmed,” you sighed shakily, “everything is too much and I can’t even relax properly. I…”

Cheol scrunched his eyebrows in confusion when you didn’t continue your train of thought only to hear you sniffling and feel your body shake a bit from trying not to cry.

“Its okay, love. Let it out.”

And then the dam broke.

You told him how your work was piling up and everything was just so stressful. You also told him about the disappointment you felt when your workmates left you all alone while struggling to meet a deadline on time when they promised you that they will help. In short, you have vomited every single slight inconvenience and big event in your life that happened in the course of a few days to your boyfriend. Your sweet and caring boyfriend who’s listening intently to every single word you’re saying.

By the time you were done, the sun was beginning to rise. You can hear the sounds of the nature around you waking up as Seungcheol wipes your tears and hug you tightly. You can feel him kiss your hair, stroking it in an attempt to ground you. You both stayed like that for a few more minutes before Cheol made you both sit up to face each other.

“You do know you can share anything with me, right?” He cupped your face with his hands, forcing you to look into his sincere eyes.

“Yeah, I know.”

“So the next time you feel like this, will you please go straight to me?”

You felt your lips quiver due to the intense sincerity that you felt from his words. You observed his face, memorizing every detail and imprinting them into your brain.

“I will.”

Taglist: @moonwonuu @belladaises

Seuncheol smiled in relief before hugging you once again, pulling your head to rest on his chest as he enveloped you with his arms. Maybe you’ll have a hard time letting him be a shoulder for you to cry on but he vows to you and to himself that he will be there to catch you whenever you fall.

[lilybecca1]

Hi! Can I ask your top 5 fav BKDK fics recs? Thx so much 🥰

Hi! Sure! *Pulls out a list*

Okay just kidding

I've read like a TON of bkdk fics so far but the ones that actually got to me are just a few.

Starting with: The Way You Used To Do by edema_ruh

Yeah, no one can say that it's overrated because it's the absolute best bkdk fic I have ever read out of, well, A LOT. It's also the first ever bkdk fic I have ever read, which doubles the attachment I have towards that fic cause imagine being introduced to the world of fanfictions about your favorite ship and starting out with THE saint scroll of BakuDeku 😭 that fic set the bar higher than the freaking Mount Everest and it left a lasting scar in me so yeah, I don't think any other fic will ever top that one. It's a must read, if you're a BKDK shipper and haven't read it yet that's illegal. TWYUTD is my shrine.

Second one, I would have to say In the Dark by Jane_Harl0w. Actually, my top 4 fic recs are all some of the first fics that I have read so that probably contributes to the reason why I have such high expectations of bkdk fics 😂 Like the beginning of In the Dark, holy sh*t. Almost as good as TWYUTD. And the ending freaking broke me. (Spoilers ahead). I remember reading the second to last chapter and I kid you not, I was in DISTRESS, cause there was only one more chapter left and no way the story was going to have a good ending cause they were kidnapped and there's no way in hell they would survive and escape when there's ONE chapter left. And then I clicked on the last chapter and saw the "Trigger warning: s**cide" and I broke 😭 I'm pretty sure I cried for hours cause I seriously believed they were gonna die and the absolute DREAD I felt when I knew the story wasn't going to have a good ending. But then it actually did have a good ending, and that's the only reason why In the Dark isn't number 1, because I would have been traumatized for life if the story actually ended how I thought it would.

There was also a lot of fluff and I loved their interactions, it reminded me of how they would have been like as childhood best friends. Although I kind of hated all the smut ngl, that ruined it for me a little. Without it, In the Dark would definitely rival TWYUTD for me.

Number 3: The Devil Ships ZeKu by xairylleactually. I had no idea what the fic's title was for such a long time cause my stupid ass didn't save it and I haven't been able to find it for MONTHS but someone finally found it so THANK YOU. It was about Deku and Bakugo finding out that fanfictions exist about each other and a whole lotta pining through it all. This one wasn't even finished, but it was the first time I ever came along this concept and the way it was written was reaaaaaally good.

Number 4 is Operation BakuDeku by ratnotfound

It's a crack fic, I remember it being hilarious af, also there's a lot of fluff. Really loved the texting theme in it and the class interactions. Even Mineta lmao. People can hate on him as much as they want but he can be funny as hell sometimes.

I actually wasn't sure what to put on the number 5 spot but I ended up with Fire Lily by EtherealBeing. The reason I loved this fic so much is because of the world building. Cause like goddamn I could make my own fanfiction about the world alone 😂 the angel world, the demon world, the lore behind God and the Deep, everything was so genuinely interesting to read that I swear I enjoyed the world building better than the actual bkdk in it lmao. (Although that church scene was kinda top tier ngl)

Also honorable mentions:

Deku Enchanted by s_the_queen (didn't finish it but the beginning was hilarious af, I swear it's one of the funniest I've read out of all of them. Deku basically gets hit by an obedience quirk which makes him obey whatever people ask from him, creating a lot of...interesting situations lmao )

They ship us? by Raltaya (don't remember it much but it was pretty good. It's about Bakugo and Deku finding out about their ship and then pining for each other)

If I Have You by dommymommy (it's not finished yet but the ANGST and it's not even the typical kind of angst, it's actually good and it deals with more mature feelings than just simple pining and being flustered around each other. Their relationship is much more grounded in this one, but with a lot more heavy feelings than other fics. I definitely recommend reading it, it filled my soul with warmth. It's the perfect example of when you know you love each other but it hurts too much to be together)

I've read tons of Villain Deku fics but so far Forget Me Not by Scorned_By_Thornz (WynterThornz) was the only one that actually made me believe that he COULD become a villain. The pure angst, humiliation, and sickening feelings between them is just wow. Prime example of how a relationship can turn bitter even though you love each other. Has a good ending, but man I feel sorry for Izuku for how they treated him in the fic.

Dreams Change People by FireRuby1 (it's a time travel fic where they get stuck in the past and relive their childhood experiences. Lots of good moments but the moment when Bakugo relived the river scene was what sold me.)

To Stand by Your Side by aeronines (also didn't finish this one cause I was too impatient...yeah, I have commitment issues, anyway...but this fic was actually really good, Bakugo is younger in this one and Deku is a pro hero, and it was very interesting to see their dynamic this way)

Hero Class Civil Warfare by RogueDruid (Icarius51) (Not specifically bkdk but Deku is really f*king smart in this one, the plot twists are insane, like fr kudos to the author for coming up with them cause I for sure would have never been able to. The story itself is about a competition between the Hero and the Villain team, and Bakugo is the leader of the Hero team while Deku is the leader of the Villain team. The Villain team is low-key badass in this one)

Mirror Image by Eleke (Bakugo gets sent through the multiverse in this one. Pretty interesting AUs appear, and I liked the ending a lot)

In Another Life by Hollandvice (A part of me died with this fic. But in a good way. Like it could have had the opportunity to complete break my soul if the ending went down differently, so thank f*ck that it didn't, I narrowly avoided future heart problems. It's damn well written and I recommend it to everyone who wants to read an emotionally impactful story)

Get on my Level by Mikacrispy (this time Bakugo is the pro hero and Izuku is the younger one. Lots of fluff and I really loved the ending, it was very touching)

To Win You Again (with trembling hands) by DoesItSaySassOnMyUniform (this fic was amazing, especially the ending. I absolutely loved their confession, it was the most realistic confession I have ever seen in any fic so far)

That's it, I hope you'll like these fics too! 💚

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 8.5: 007- Peña, Agent Peña

Summary: After Javi's surprise on the Peña ranch, you had already had the best night of your life. Little did you know, your night was just beginning.

Word Count: 4.9K (This is as short as it's ever gonna get, this is just who I am)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up), creampie, praise (oh boy, does Javi tell you what a good job you're doing), semi-public nudity?? (not really, but you'll see!!), mentions of eating/food, mentions of alcohol, mentions of loss of a parent, you and Javi being absolute goofballs and being lovesick idiots

A/N: SO. I finished Chapter 8 and went to go walk my dog, and the song "Would That I" by Hozier came on, and it 100% is the inspiration behind this mini chapter. I literally came up with the idea for this chapter and wrote it in less than 24 hours because Javi and Osita live in my head rent free at all times being the cutest two idiots to ever exist. Enjoy this fun lil bit, it's honestly probably my favorite thing that I've written for this series so far!!!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter Previous Chapter

“I’m not sure if cold, post sex and first I love you’s is the way that your dad intended us to eat these enchiladas, but holy shit are they delicious.” You and Javi laughed, finishing the last bites of the enchiladas verdes Chucho had packed for the both of you. It probably would have made more sense to eat dinner almost an hour ago when Javi had first taken you out to watch the sunset in the back of his truck, but, no offense to Chucho’s enchiladas, having the most romantic sex of your life followed by Javi telling you that he loved you for the first time seemed to take higher priority to you. 

“These ones are actually pretty good, I will give him that. Thank God he’s finally starting to get better at cooking, a few months ago his food was practically inedible.” Javi shook his head, wiping his face with the back of his hand as gathered both of your cleared paper plates and forks, tossing them into the empty paper bag Chucho had sent them with. 

“Actually? I didn’t know he had come such a long way in his cooking career in such a short time.” You snickered, pulling some of the blankets laying at the edge of the truck bed over you as you scooted yourself closer to Javi, laying your head against his chest as you snuggled next to him. Pulling you closer, Javi wrapped his arm around you, fingers tracing gentle circles along the back of his sweatshirt you were now wearing. 

“Actually. He never cooked until my mom died. One day he called me while I was still in Colombia and told me he had found one of my mom’s recipe books and was gonna teach himself how to cook. When I came home, he insisted on making me dinner every night so he could show off whatever he was learning. I ate a lot of sandwiches after he fell asleep the first few months I was home.” 

“Well despite the terrible food you had to eat, that’s actually really sweet. Glad I came around when I did so I only have to reap the benefits of his good cooking and not suffer along with you.” You giggled as he squeezed you before giving you a playful shake wrapped in his arms. “Can you cook at all, or is this a warning that you’re gonna subject me to your awful cooking too?” 

“I can cook enough. Not a good cook by any means, but definitely not my Pops a few months ago. Can do more than Kraft Mac and Cheese, I’ll tell you that much.” He smirked, poking fun at the first meal you had made. You sat up, giving him the biggest stink face you could muster without bursting into laughter.

“Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, don’t act like you wouldn’t have eaten an entire second pot if I hadn’t made one for you, Mr. Literally Will Literally Eat Anything Under The Sun In World Record Time.” 

“If I seem to remember correctly, you weren’t doing a lot of complaining after I ate, Osita.” He winked at you as you nudged your elbow into his side before he grabbed you, rolling you over and playfully wrestling you into the pile of pillows and blankets beneath you. “C’mere, Hermosa.” He wrapped his arms around you as you giggled and squirmed beneath him, trying to wiggle your way out of his grasp. You kicked your feet as he kissed at your neck, his mustache ticking you with each peck of his lips. Using all your might, you were able to roll over on top of him, straddling his lap as he lay on his back, breaking free of his grasp.

“Can’t get me that easy, Peña. Wrestling was the only way I got anything from my brothers for the first ten years of my life.” You smirked as you leaned down to kiss him as his fingertips gripped into your hips, pulling you further on to his lap. 

“Could think of worse ways to lose a wrestling match.” Javi’s face smug as he gestured to how you were sitting on top of him, letting out a quiet groan as you started to grind into his lap, feeling him already half hard beneath you. “Careful, Hermosa. Not gonna be so nice if you’re gonna try to play dirty.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to make the next move. 

Still bent over him, you kissed up his neck and jaw before nipping at his ear. “Last time I checked, you liked it when I played dirty.” Your whispers left jaw slack, pressing up into you, his dick already straining against the fabric of his sweatpants. 

“Fuck me.” He murmured under his breath as you began to grind harder into his crotch. “You wanna play dirty, baby? I can play fuckin’ dirty.” You could see the lust filled in the dark pool of his eyes, biting down on your lip, already feeling the slick pooling between your legs with each sway of your hips. “You already wet for me, baby?” 

This man read you like a book- like he had every fucking page memorized. “Mmmhhhmm.” You nodded, feeling how soaked the fabric of your sweatpants already was as you felt your clit rub deliciously against Javi’s dick, hard and heavy underneath you. 

“I know you are, dirty girl. Want me to touch you baby? Want me to make you come before I fuck that perfect pussy again?” You nodded again, frantically shaking your head yes at his filthy words as you worked yourself against his length. He laughed to himself, shaking his head as he watched how blissed out you already were rubbing against him. “Too bad.” 

You paused, shooting him a confused look. “What do you mean, too bad?” 

“You know exactly what I mean. You wanna play dirty, I will too. You wanna come? You get yourself off like this.” He gave you a subtle nod of his head, gesturing to how you were sitting on top of his lap. 

“Are you serious? Javi, c’mon, please.” You rolled your eyes at him as you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to play off how desperate you already were for him. 

“Rules are rules baby. Fight dirty, play dirty. C’mon pretty girl, I know how needy you are, how wet that pretty pussy is for me.” He mewled as he toyed with the waistband of your sweatpants, fingers brushing against your skin. He dug his fingers into your hips, slowly pushing them back and forth against his lap, encouraging you to pick back up your pace brushing up against his dick with every motion. “There you go, hermosa. That’s my girl. Just like that, baby.” He praised as you found yourself rubbing harder and harder against him, slick coating your thighs. With his length, it wasn’t hard to feel how big he was, making it easy to find a sweet spot that brushed up against your sensitive bundle of nerves as you rocked your hips back  and forth over him. 

“Javiiiii, fuck.” You whined, feeling the heat build at the base of your spine as your clit rubbed harder and harder on his covered cock. 

“That’s it, Osita. Doing so good for me, baby. God, you look so fucking pretty riding me like that, C’mon, I know you’re close sweetheart.” His praise had you climbing towards your high, each time you ground your hips into him had you closer and closer to coming undone. His name fell from your lips, moaning as he was gripping your hips again pushing you deeper into him. 

“Javi, I’m so close. Fuck, fuck fuckkkkkk.” You whimpered as you felt the euphoria rush through you, gushing, feeling your pussy throb from the intensity of your orgasm. You slumped into him, face falling on to his chest as you caught your breath. 

“Such a good girl, Osita. My good fucking girl. Did so good for me baby.” He whispered in your ear as hand his hands along your body, trembling at his touch. “Still want me to fuck you, dirty girl?” 

“Yes, holy shit, yes.” You moaned. “Please, I need you so bad Javi.” He helped you pull your sweatpants down, kicking them off your feet as you straddled back over Javi, sitting on top of his thighs. Slipping your fingers under his waistband, you pushed the pants down, revealing his dick, already red, precum leaking from its tip, leaving a stain on his sweatpants. You lifted yourself up, slowly sinking down on his length, each inch splitting you open with the sweetest stretch. Even without his fingers to warm you up, you were so wet that you took him easily, feeling yourself bottom out on his cock as Javi let out an audible groan. His hands reached around, giving you a light smack on your ass before his fingers kneaded into your flesh. You began to raise yourself up and down along his length, swirling your hips as your hands tugged at the hem of his sweatshirt that you were wearing, ready to take it off. His hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you before you could get any further. 

“Keep it on. Fuck, I love seeing you in my clothes.” He bit down on his lip as you nodded, rubbing your hands up and down his chest as you threw your head back, drunk on the way his dick felt hitting against that sweet spot inside you. The hair around his base rubbed against your clit, making you whine as you picked up your pace. “Jesus Hermosa, fuck me. Taking me so well. My sweet girl.” His voice was thick and raspy between his heavy breaths, his eyes glued on your every move as you rode him. 

Suddenly, you felt him shift. Sitting up with his back pushed up against the truck, he wrapped his arms around you pulling you in so you were chest to chest, foreheads pressed against each other. You could feel him thrust up into you, his cock punching that magical spot that made the heat at the base of your spine creep up your back. “Javi, fuck baby, you feel so good. Fuckkk.” You tugged at his thick curls, burying your face in the crook of his neck, the scent of his sweet and spicy cologne clinging to his sweatshirt. 

“I know, hermosa, I know. Fuck, you’re so wet and tight, baby. Gonna give me one more? Soak my dick before I fuck you full of me again?” You wrapped your legs around his waist, digging your fingers into his back as you felt yourself snap, screaming his name as pleasure ran through every inch of you. You could feel how tight you were clenching around his cock as you came, his thrusts pounding deeper and faster into you. It didn’t take long for him to meet his own end, only needing a few more pumps before you felt his seed spill into you, leaking down your thighs and into his lap as you slumped into each other. 

“Fuck, Osita.” He whispered between his labored breathing, lifting his head off your shoulder, smiling at your blissed out face. “Jesus, I fucking love you.” 

“I love you too, Jav. Super romantic with your dick still in me and your cum dripping down my legs.” You giggled, still sitting in his lap. 

“It’s fucking hot, is what it is. Fuck me, you’re so sexy. What the fuck did I ever do to deserve such a beautiful woman who fucking loves me like you?” 

“God, you’re so sweet. Get your dick out of me before I start crying again, you menace.” You both laughed as you shifted off of him, grimacing at the mess you had left behind in Javi’s lap. “Do you have any towels, or leftover napkins? Sorry, I made a fucking mess. So much for those showers before we left.” 

Javi paused for a moment before a sly grin crept across his face. “Ostia, can you swim?

You raised an eyebrow at him, very confused by his question, considering you were surrounded by a gigantic, grassy field. “What? Yes, of course I can swim? Why are you asking me that? How is knowing if I can swim helpful right now?”  

His smile turned giddy, smirking at you as he shimmied his sweatpants back over his legs. “C’mon, get in the truck.” He slid himself off the back of the truck bed, standing up and outstretching his hand toward you. You quickly pulled your sweatpants back on too, following behind him as he helped you out of the truck and picked you up to put you in the passenger seat. 

“Javi, what the hell are we doing? Are you gonna go throw me in a trough or something? Listen, I love those cows, but I am not gonna be happy if you toss me into a bucket full of dirty cow spit water.” You crossed your arms at him, waiting for a response. 

“You’ll see.” He winked at you before shutting your door, hopping over to the driver’s side and starting up the car. 

“You’re lucky I love you.” You grumbled, still crossing his arms at him. He reached over the center console, giving you a quick kiss before pulling away and shifting the truck into drive. 

“I’m a very lucky man, indeed.” You finally shifted out of your playfully grumpy demeanor, melting as Javi stared at you, his sweet, puppy dog eyes making your heart explode every time they landed on you. You turned up the radio as Javi pulled away, heading the opposite direction that you came from, his headlights shining on a thick patch of trees at the end of one of the pastures. Driving a little deeper into the wooded area, Javi put the car in park, leaving you even more confused than when you left. He smiled at you as he shut off the ignition, hopping out the door before coming around to your side, helping you out of the car. 

“God, I thought driving me out to the middle of the field was bad, but taking me out into the woods in the pitch black? You really never are beating these serial killer allegations, I’m afraid.” 

“You’re the worst, do you know that?” Javi shook his head as he grabbed your hand, pulling you along with him as he began to walk through the trees. 

“I’m just saying! Listen, if you really wanted- Hey! Hey! Put me down!” You squealed as Javi picked you up, flinging you over his shoulder as you pounded your fists against his back, kicking and giggling with each step he took. God, was he strong. He carried you like it was nothing, laughing to himself as he watched you try to wriggle your way out of his fireman hold. Letting out a huff of defeat, you slumped further into him, staring at the ground as he took each step. 

“At least I have a good view of your ass from here.” You snickered as he continued walking. 

“You really like my butt, don’t you?” He laughed, rustling you in his grasp, still flung over his shoulder. 

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you are built like a God, Javier Peña. You’re very much proving your point right now carrying my fat ass through the woods.” 

He stopped, setting you down so you were facing towards him, placing his strong hand under your chin before tilting it up towards him. You gazed up at him, a surprisingly serious look spread across his face. “Hey. I love your ass. I love your body. Every curve, every single bit of you. Okay?”  

“Okay.” You softly replied, pulling you in tighter as he kissed the top of your head. “So are you gonna tell me where the hell we’re going, or are you just gonna keep carrying me through the woods?” 

“Turn around.” He nodded his head, gesturing behind you. As you spun around, you saw the moonlight sparkle off ripples of the pond in front of you. Rocks and tall grass surrounded the edges, water from a small stream flowing from behind the reeds into the pond. An old, worn wooden dock sat at the end, hovering over the first few feet out into the water. You turned back around to look at Javi, now smirking at your pleasant surprise with his most recent mystery. “I was out here every day as a kid in the summer. Nothing much, but it was deep enough to swim in. Haven’t been back here since high school, probably.”

“Is this where you’d take all the ladies to woo them with your swimming skills?” You joked, giving Javi a nudge as he stared around the pond. 

“No.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Just me and my friends, sometimes my cousins when they came over, if I was lucky.” 

“Well, I feel very honored to be the first lucky woman to get to see this secret pond.” You replied, slipping your sweatpants off your waist, leaving your bottom half exposed. Javi’s jaw dropped for the second time today watching you strip yourself of your clothes. “What?” You looked at him as your sweatshirt came next, dropping in a pile next to your pants, leaving you fully naked in front of him. “Aren’t we getting in?” You tilted your head at the pond, smirking at Javi who was now speechless. 

“You sure?” He said, gulping as he looked you up and down, your soft skin glowing in the moonlight. 

“Would I be standing here naked if I wasn’t?” You shrugged your shoulders as you raised an eyebrow at him. “You gonna swim in your sweats or am I gonna keep standing here like a naked idiot waiting for you?” Before you could say anything else, Javi’s clothes were on the ground next to yours, leaving you both bare, hidden amongst the secluded trees. This time, you grabbed his hand, running as you pulled him to the end of the dock, abruptly pausing as you got to the edge. “Are there like, weird things in here? It’s deep enough to jump in, right?” 

“Hermosa, just get in, you’re fine.” 

“Okay, but like-” 

“Osita, get in or I’m gonna push you in.”  

“You wouldn’t dare.” 

“You know I fucking will.” 

“Ugh okay, okay! Just promise me-” 

“1…” 

“Javi, wait-” 

“2…” 

“I’m being serious, don’t you do it! Javier Jesús Peña, I swear to God-” 

“3!” 

Before you could finish, Javi had his arms wrapped around your waist, swinging you back and forth, throwing you over the edge of the dock, limbs flailing as you splashed into the water. You peeked your head up, running your hands over your face as you watched Javi laughing hysterically. You flung your hand against the water, trying your best to splash him as he still stood at the edge thoroughly amused with himself. 

“I hate you, I hope you know that.” You grumbled, splashing him again. “Hey, wait, where are you going?” You shouted as you watched Javi turn around, making his way off the dock. It wasn’t long before you regretted asking the question, as Javi quickly turned around, getting a running start as he launched himself off the edge, drenching you as he drove into the water, making waves that splashed against you upon his entrance. You swam there for a moment, waiting for his head to pop up somewhere next to you, when suddenly, you felt something wrap around your ankle, making you absolutely screech at the top of your lungs. You swam as fast as you could back to the edge of the dock, clinging to the edge as you heard more hysterical laughter behind you, turning around to see Javi cackling to himself as you panted breathlessly, waiting for your heart rate to return to a semi-normal pace. 

“Holy shit, I didn’t think I was gonna scare you that bad, Osita.” He came down from his laughter, looking over at you hanging from the wooden planks still trying to catch your breath. “I’m sorry, baby. Are you okay?” He swam closer to you, now seeming like he felt a little remorse for what he had done. 

You took a few more deep breaths before letting go of the dock, looking back at him. Now only an arms’ length away from you, you swam full force towards Javi, wrapping your body around his, trying to wrestle him in the water. “You are an absolute jerk, you know that?” You grunted between your giggles as Javi grabbed you back, spinning you as you thrashed in the water, splashing it in his face before he grabbed your face to kiss him. Your legs locked around Javi’s hips, arms wrapping around his neck as his slipped behind your back, pulling you closer, feeling weightless in the water. He drew away for a moment, taking one of his hands to caress your face, rubbing his thumb along your jaw. 

“I forgive you, I guess.” You smiled as you sat there for a moment, taking in every detail of his face. His messy wet hair, his chocolate brown eyes, the way his mustache shifted above his lips as he smiled, everything about him that made you love him even more than you thought you already could. The way he looked back at you made you feel like there wasn’t anyone else in the world who could ever love you more. 

“God, you’re so beautiful. I love you, Osita.” 

“I love you too, Javi.” 

He brought you in closer, placing another gentle kiss on your lips. He pulled away again, this time with a look of panic washing over his face.

“What? Are you okay?” 

 “Was that your foot?” 

“My feet are wrapped around your waist?” You looked at him curiously. 

Trying his best to keep calm, Javi swam you both closer and closer to the shore, still carrying you with him as you stepped back on to land. This time, it was your turn to laugh at him, suddenly realizing why he had gotten out so quickly. “Not big and brave now, huh?” 

“At least I didn’t scream like you.” 

“Oh shut up.” You giggled as he set you back down, now sopping wet and shivering next to your pile of clothes. “Any way to explain to your dad why the hell we’re both coming back soaking wet?” You grimaced as you started to pull your sweatshirt over your wet body.

“We’re not.” His face smug as he followed suit opting to only put on his sweatpants, leaving him shirtless as you both headed back through the trees. 

“So…. What? You’re just gonna ask your dad to close his eyes and ignore us when we come back inside?” You raised an eyebrow in confusion looking up at Javi as he reached down to grab your hand as you walked. 

“No. To be honest, Pops is probably already passed out in front of the TV, but of course, you can’t walk through the front door without going past him. We’ll just sneak in through my bedroom window and he’ll be none the wiser.” 

You stopped for a second before laughing at him, continuing to walk as you shook your head. “Sneak in? What are we, 16? I know you said you’ve never brought any girls down here before, but I have a very hard time believing this is the first time you’ve snuck a girl into your room, Javier Peña.” 

“Only a few times.” He looked down at the ground sheepishly as you squeezed his hand. 

“I’m just giving you a hard time, Jav. Wouldn’t be my first time sneaking in either.” You admitted, your cheeks turning slightly red at your admission. 

“Really?” He perked up. “You don’t strike me as the type, but do tell.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You just seem like such a rule follower, maybe it’s the teacher in you.” He shrugged as you rolled your eyes. “What’d ya do?” 

“Fair, I guess. I was 17. One of my friends was having a party at her parents house while they were on vacation, and being the rule follower that I am, I asked my parents and they said no. I was so mad because it felt like they always let my brothers go out and have fun and I never got to. So, once everyone was asleep, I snuck out, rode my bike all the way to my friends house, got drunk out of my mind, which is part of the reason why I can never drink vodka again, and by some miracle, was able to ride my bike back home. When I came in through the side door of the garage, my brother David was in there, already waiting for me. He told me that he could hear me singing at the top of my lungs halfway down the block. He took pity on me and helped my drunk ass up to bed and never told my parents. He’s always been my favorite brother. Then, I pretended to have the stomach flu for the next 3 days to cover up for my hangover.” You both laughed as you finished your walk up to the truck, Javi opening the passenger door for you as you stepped in. 

“No vodka, duly noted. You trying to tell me your singing gets even more obnoxious when you’re drunk?” He smiled as you buckled yourself in. 

“You love my singing, don’t lie. But um… maybe… Just a little. You’ll just have to deal with my sober serenading for now, sorry.” You smirked at him as you shrugged your shoulders, Javi laughing to himself as he shut the door behind you. 

……….. 

As promised, you spent the rest of the ride to the ranch windows down, blaring “Go Your Own Way” from Fleetwood Mac, noting that even though Javi had put on the album not long ago, you were a bit distracted to actually listen to any of the songs. If it was anyone else, Javi would have rather been caught dead than singing along to anything, regardless of song, album or artist. But lucky for him, you weren’t just anyone. You were his everything. Javi was sad when you’re singing came to an end, lowering the music as you pulled up to the house, trying to remain as quiet as possible to not wake up his dad. 

“Too bad you don’t have the James Bond soundtrack in your car, I feel like we’re on some sort of secret mission right now.” You whispered, trying to close the truck door behind you as quietly as possible. 

“C’mon, you dork.” He replied, taking you by the hand and leading you around the edge of his house. You both tiptoed along the wood siding of the house, Javi leading you before stopping under one of the windows, slightly cracked open, pushing out of its frame. “Alright, if I lift you up, can you push it the rest of the way open and climb in?” 

“Sure thing, Agent Peña. What number do you want to be, since you clearly can’t be 007, that one’s already taken. I don’t think they’ll let you be the next James Bond with that ‘stache.” You mumbled, stepping in front of Javi as he got ready to lift you up. 

“Will you just get in the window, please?” He scoffed, squeezing his hands on your hips, getting ready to hoist you. 

“Fine, fine, just say you wanna be lame and move on. I’m ready.” As Javi shot you up, your fingers wrapped around the edge of the windowsill, humming to yourself as you shimmied yourself in. 

“Bada boommmm, bada booommmmm, bahnanah.”  

“Are you seriously singing the James Bond theme song right now?” Javi looked up at the window as you pushed open the rest of the pane, now looking down at him. 

“Yeah, at least one of us should have a little fun with this. You need my help getting in?” 

He hadn’t even answered your question before he was already halfway through the window, pulling himself through and landing on the floor.  

“Showoff.” You grumbled to yourself as he closed the window behind him. Wet and uncomfortable in your clothes, you stripped them off of you, drying yourself off from the towel you had left on Javi’s bed from your shower earlier. Javi did the same, shedding his sweatpants and throwing them next to yours before you both crawled under the covers, curling into each other. You pulled the comforter up over you, nestling against the warmth of Javi’s body. Laying your head on Javi’s chest, Javi ran his fingers through the ends of your hair, still damp from your swim. It wasn’t until you hit the bed that you realized just how exhausted you were, barely keeping your eyes open, your eyelids heavy with sleep.

“Javi?” You asked, looking up at him, your voice low and soft, letting out a quiet yawn. 

“Yes, Osita?” He peered down at you, fingers still twisting through your locks. 

“You really love me?” 

He chuckled warmly, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head. “I really do. Con todo mí corazón. (With all my heart.) Get some sleep, Hermosa, I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” 

He paused, waiting for you to respond. 

“Hermosa?”  

The only thing he heard after that were your sweet snores humming against his chest, you already sound asleep in his arms. He gave you one more kiss on the head before pulling you closer, shutting his eyes as he whispered one last goodnight.  “Buenas noches, Osita. Soy un hombre afortunado. Tienes todo mí corazón para siempre. Te amo.” (Good night, Osita. I’m a lucky man. You have all of my heart, forever. I love you.)

..........

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[stanfiction-withsoos]

Uhhhh sorry if this goes too far but what if when Stan and Ford were born they were conjoined, but only at the forearm. They got split pretty early on (back in the 50s they didn't believe babies felt pain tho so ow.), Ford ended up keeping their arm while Stanley lost it. For a while they just thought Stan never had two hands but then they found an old baby picture and got it explained to them by their Ma. Ford became obsessed with this. He was the one that got the extra digits, he was the one that had the piece of both of them, he wanted them to be together again because they tore off a piece of his brother to make Ford fit their standards, and How Dare They seperate them, How Dare They hurt them, How Dare They make them two individuals and shame them for not being whole, for Stan not being smart enough and Ford not being social enough when they tore them in two, Ford justifies his struggles by saying he's less than whole, just like Stan, and if they had never been split apart they would have been perfect, a higher being, not just two halves not equal to a person.

He tried to sew them back together when they were 17, but then Stan bled too much and went into shock and they were cut apart again, Ford would have been arrested if Stan didn't say he was willingly sleeping under all those painkillers and that it was his idea, not Ford's. Stan got kicked out, and Ford figured that being joined at the arm was still too far away, they needed to be closer. Needed to share the same heart, the same legs, the same arms, they needed to be so close they couldn't cut them apart again.

YESSS. OHG MY GOD

later, ford calls stanley to gravity falls, but for a different reason...

stanley knocks once, twice, before the door swings open, revealing a clearly manic ford.

" Stanley! please, come in! " his brother says, his voice fake and thick with... something. its almost malice, its almost love, its something.

stan enters, but is on edge the entire time. ford takes the jacket off his shoulders, tossing it on the ground next to the door. he ushers stan into the messy kitchen, handing him a warm cup of tea.

stan smiles and nods the entire time, scared of and worried for his brother.

after a few sips of the tea, his vision blurs and his grip lessens, the nice china breaking against the wooden boards.

the last thing stan remembers is ford gripping onto him like his life depended on it.

when stan wakes up, everything hurts.

he groans, earning a soft shushing from ford, who is seemingly right next to him.

theres an odd strain, as if his skin were being pulled, as he hears ford mutter about medicine.

the strain stops, and a handful of pills are offered to him. stan blinks his eyes open, vision swimming, and accepts them.

stan is offered water aswell.

he stays in a half-aware state until the pain subsides.

after a bit, stan fully opens his eyes, bringing his arm up to rub at his temple. he tries to sit up, but something feels so heavy, and the weird strain is back, so he settles back down.

a hand - fords, he notes - moves to his chest, rubbing at his bicep over a layer of gauze but under a warm blanket. fords head then rests on stans shoulder, an odd position to be laying down in.

stan looks over, seeing fords head resting against... something thats not his shoulder. something that stretches between the two of them.

panicked, stan flips the cover off of them.

" Sixer, what the FUCK- "

[royal-chandler]

nsfw. plotless porn. i don't ✨love✨ it but i felt like being naughty.

warning for bareback sex if that's a squick!

--

“You remembered—oh fuck, remembered to lock the door, yeah?” Henry spares half the mind to ask as he sinks down on Alex’s cock.

“I think so,” Alex says, laid out and naked on one of the horse’s turnout blankets and his hands a warm, big clutch over Henry’s hips. While Henry stretches wide and eases in every inch of Alex’s considerable length, a heavily concentrated patience bends his brow. Which serves him right for today’s infuriating get-up—painted on black jeans and a matching tease-tight sleeveless pullover, a hell of a duet fashioned to melt all of Henry’s good sense better than the hanging high-noon.

“Alex,” Henry groans, achingly full and his arse now snug against the insistent nudge of Alex’s balls. He hitches forward, chasing after how perfect it feels before he even thinks to do it. “You’re not instilling much confidence here.”

“Do you really care?” Alex’s hands give him a squeeze and his brandy-bright eyes watch Henry knowingly, a smirk crooking his mouth to one side and setting off a dimple. “You wanna pretend it doesn’t turn you on? The thought of someone walking through that barn door, hearing something they shouldn’t—hearing sounds of little deaths—and then climbing up here to the hayloft. I mean, it’s been weeks at this point. It’s only getting riskier. Your filthy exploits with the stable hand.”

Henry’s face heats at the idea and there’s a denial on the tip of his tongue that he swallows down, already betrayed by the leaking head of his flushed cock and the new greedy grind of his hips. His hands possessively rove the honey-skin of Alex, from the soft dark hairs that cover his wrists to carved muscle higher up that’s sparsely dotted with moles on either side of a rivering vein. He winds up at Alex’s broad shoulders, gripping a strap of his top with one hand and the snarl of his hair with another, leaning in until they’re front to front and as Alex’s sturdy arms ring around him. 

Merciless, Alex starts to move and continues, “They’ll see how well you ride my cock,” he grunts when Henry lifts and pressing back, again and again, riding him shamelessly, “just like that, sweetheart—like you were made for it and no one could do it better.”

No one can, Henry thinks. Maybe spills it between their mouths because Alex is even more smug under him right where Henry can taste it—planting his heels in the boards, holding Henry in place with a biting kiss and thrusting up. 

“Yours,” Alex licks into Henry’s mouth and Henry eagerly accepts the languid swipe of tongue, following after it, and keeping the kiss heavy and involved. It’s slick and soft sighs play over the desperate noises of their fucking, pleased smiles over mean thrusts. In the pull-away, Alex drenches the little space between them with hard breaths, “Let them see that I’m yours.”

Henry’s. This lovely, unforeseen, and positively delectable man. All his.

“Mine,” Henry gasps, caught lapping at the rabbiting-pulse under Alex’s salted stubble just as Alex screws in with an off-rhythm that hits his prostate. “Fuck, yes. There. Fuck, Alex, please.”

“Always take care of you. And you’re mine, too, aren’t you.” Alex tells him, no room for a question as he claims Henry, shoving in faster and bucking so hard that Henry is forced to agree in forced out pants, gagged half-answers. At his ear, Alex’s words are humid-hot and urgent, absolute in between frantic kisses, “They can see how good you look stuffed with my cock but they don’t get this.” An affection meant for a scene less straightforward than a summer fling enters and curls Henry’s ribcage in, “They don’t get to know how tight you get and how fucking sweet you taste, especially when you’re close. God, you’re fucking rutting. You close, baby?”

And Henry doesn’t even have to say anything, Alex knows him so well now. Almost instantly, Alex’s fist is unrelenting around his cock, tugging weak-kneed moans out of him, whimpers to be fucked and touched and love, there—don’t stop.

When Henry comes, it’s a hard shudder into orgasm, the sort that ripples through him, violently rearranges his bones and blanks-out his sight. Smearing their stomachs with a clinging white, he clamps down on Alex’s cock, keeping it like a part of himself even after Alex profanely fucks his own hot mess deep into Henry—unwilling to let even a drop of him go.

--

yes, i was goaded into this by the people magazine photoshoot.