#but recently he's been the one doing that and holding me in conversation for as long as he could

[ahintofchaos]

Homecoming

Agatha Harkness X Reader

Summary:

"Can we go home?"

Agatha, Reader, and Billy clean up and go home after the showdown with Rio. Home, of course, being the Kaplan residence in Eastview. Three bloody witches in suburbia.

Established AgathaxReader, can be read as a standalone or with my other Agatha fics.

“Can we go home?”

You���re bloodied and battered, having just been launched around the backyard like a toy. Your voice is raspy but steady as you stumble to your feet, moving almost unconsciously toward Agatha. Agatha, whose arms are opening to you. 

What a nightmare. Trust Agatha to have the single most dramatic closure talk with an ex you’ve ever seen. You would question her taste in women if you weren’t also one of her choices. 

You find purchase in Agatha’s arms, sagging against her. She, with her recently recovered powers, seems better off than you. Billy, too, is in relatively good shape. He holds his hands out under your arms like he’s waiting to catch you if you fall. You want no one’s touch but Agatha’s right now. “Want to define home for me, honey?” 

You consider her words. You had meant the place where Agatha had lived, but that was currently a little busted, what with the showdown with Rio that took out several windows and inexplicably, a sink. Not to mention the lack of a front door and the probably trashed interior, thanks to the Salem Seven. “Okay. Can we go somewhere else?” 

You don’t know where that would be, but you’re desperate for a place to rest. Agatha might be one of the most powerful witches to ever exist, but you were relatively ordinary as far as witches went, and you were well past your limit. Agatha didn’t offer a solution, but Billy piped up almost hesitantly.

“You can come with me. I mean, to my house.” 

You’re too tired to argue, and Agatha seems to follow your lead. She nods at the boy and you all three make your way around the side of the house to the road, where Billy’s Subaru is miraculously untouched. “What a shitshow,” Agatha mutters as she sets you in the backseat, and you can’t tell if she means the events of today or the state of the car. Both, probably. There are tumbleweeds of crumpled receipts back here, and you’re acutely aware of the amount of crumbs you’re sitting on. Teenagers have never been known for their cleanliness, but this is really something.

Instead of getting into the passenger seat like you expected, Agatha slides in next to you. She buckles your seatbelt and then hers. Billy waits until you’re both set to start off down the street, and before long your head is lolling against the window as you slip into a fuzzy half-sleep state. 

The next thing you register is someone’s fingers in your hair, lightly stroking across all the knots and snarls you’ve accumulated. Your head is no longer against the window but on Agatha’s shoulder, soft and reliable. She gently tilts your head up once your eyes start to flicker open, and she reaches over you to undo your seatbelt. With a whispered “hang tight,” she gets out, leaving your side cold without her pressed against you. She opens your door and half lifts you out of the car. You wind your arm in hers and make your way up the walkway of Billy’s house. It’s quaint, not unlike Agatha’s house. Very suburban. The door isn’t locked, and the three of you walk right in. Billy shucks off his shoes at the front door, and you attempt to do the same. Agatha makes no effort. Billy’s mother is on the couch, her back to the door, but she turns around when she hears you come in. “William?”

Billy ducks sheepishly. “Hi, Mom, I–” 

“Where were you? You’ve been gone for 24 hours!” 

Billy’s father comes in from the kitchen and joins the conversation, which at this point is more of a monologue. Lots of “All day, no communication, where on earth were you?” Their lecture pauses for a moment as both parents simultaneously switch their attention to you. And what a sight you must be. A very disheveled and rather bloodied woman in the arms of a centuries-old witch, who is visibly older than you. Although the age difference is negligible after so many centuries, Agatha does look older than you by appearance. It must be quite the shock, you think, to have your son come home after going missing for a day and bringing with him two unusual guests. Fortunately, Billy’s parents seem more relieved to have him home than anything, and are fairly dismissive of the fact that you’re also here. 

“Uh, Mom, Dad,” Billy says, “we’ve had a really long day and they’re going to crash here, okay?” He motions to you and Agatha, who is at this point holding you up almost entirely, her arm tight around your waist. 

Mrs. Kaplan nods, turning back to Billy. “Yes, of course, sure,” she says, barely paying you any mind. “But you need to communicate with us, William. We were so worried. And it’s so late!” As the three of you walk past her and up the stairs, her eyes linger on Agatha’s swirling dress and coat. You quickly turn your attention back to the stairs, lest you miss one and send you and Agatha both tumbling back down. 

–

“So, this is my room,” Billy says, casting his arm around the space, “and this is the bathroom, if you need it.” It’s a nice little space. Very Billy Kaplan. Maximoff? Who knows. Your attention is fixed on the bed. You want nothing more than to lie down and sleep for a century, but you’re also uncomfortably aware of the blood drying in sticky patches all over your face and neck, courtesy of Rio’s death by a thousand cuts. You’re so tired you’re numb, and you can’t really tell what blood is Agatha’s and what’s yours anymore. But judging by the way both she and Billy look at you, a good bit of it is yours. Ouch. 

“Let’s get you fixed up, then we can sleep,” Agatha says, gently prodding you along toward the bathroom. You follow mutely, taking a seat on the closed toilet while Agatha starts running the sink water. She cups her hands and holds the water up to the tiny window, and you recognize Jen’s healing spell. Agatha looks at you and tilts her head back, and you get her message and do the same. She opens her hands over your face, and the water starts to rinse away the blood. It’s certainly messy, and Billy starts to interject that maybe you should move to the shower for this, but one look from Agatha shuts him up again. She repeats the process several times, picking glass out of your hair and skin where she finds it. Eventually, you’re looking better, and she takes one of the Kaplans’s pristine white hand towels and uses it to gently wipe away the rest of the crusted blood and dirt. You close your eyes, leaning into her touch. She finishes, but keeps her hand on your face, steadying you. You could fall asleep right there. 

“Hey,” Agatha waves a hand toward Billy, who has been observing the entire process from the doorway of the tiny bathroom. “How about some fresh clothes? Find her something normal, please,” she says. That might be a dig at his current outfit, with its emo sweater and cape. She’s one to talk, you think. That purple coat was dramatic as hell. Billy ducks back into his room and rummages through some drawers, and returns with a clumsily folded tshirt and a pair of sweatpants. “Okay?” he asks, and you and Agatha both nod. She closes the door in his face, not taking her hand away from you. Your pulse thumps against her fingertips and she’s never been so glad to feel it. 

“Up,” she coaxes, and you obey. She gently shimmies you out of your old shirt, which is beyond repair, and gently pulls your arms through the new one. It’s a band you don’t recognize, but it’s very Billy. She slides your pants down your legs and you brace yourself on her shoulders as you step out of them one leg at a time. 

“I feel like a baby,” you say as she slides the soft black sweatpants up your legs, settling them on your waist. Agatha looks at you. “You had a rough go out there. Let yourself be a baby. You’re my baby.” If you weren’t so tired you could’ve cried. 

Agatha opened the bathroom door again and you emerged back into Billy’s room, feeling slightly more alive than before. Billy is sitting on the bed, but Agatha motions for him to get off. “My mom said she’s going to bring the air mattress, so we can–” 

“Teen, I am four hundred years old. I am sleeping in a real bed. And so is she.” Her hand settles on your shoulder, and Billy understands what else she’s saying. 

“Oh, I didn’t–” 

“I’m aware,” Agatha snaps. She turns abruptly from him to pull down the covers for you, helping you into bed. Your bones nearly melt as you relax into the mattress. Agatha walks around the bed to the other side and slides in. You lift your tired head and she helps you nestle yourself in her lap, your face pressed against her soft thigh. It’s familiar and comforting, and you smile unconsciously. Cracking your eyes back open, you see Agatha stealing a glance at you, before she readjusts herself against the headboard and rests her hand on your side. Billy starts talking, and Agatha responds, but you can’t bring yourself to focus. You’re alive, Agatha’s alive, and you’re safe. You’re getting real sleep in a real bed for the first time in a week. You drift to sleep with the buzz of Agatha’s voice in your ears and her warmth against you. You breathe deep. 

Everything else is for tomorrow. 

____________________

“Is she asleep?” 

“No, she’s–” Agatha stops herself. Too soon for jokes about that. She pets your hair and you sigh, pressing your face against her lap. “Yes, she’s asleep.” 

Billy shifts on the air mattress. “I didn’t know you were, like, together,” he said.

“Well, now you know.” 

“I thought you and Rio–” 

“That was a long time ago. Things change.” 

Billy paused. “Is that why she was so mad? She wanted you back?” 

“Gee, I should have stopped to ask her. Maybe when she was busy trying to reap your soul to restore cosmic order.” 

“Okay, nevermind.” 

Agatha sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t care.” 

“You don’t? But you two were together, you had a ki–” 

“I’m aware, Teen. But it wasn’t supposed to happen. The universe was against it, and I didn’t care. I wanted to spit in the face of the universe. And it came back to bite me. I wanted to be as strong as Death.” 

“You were angry.”

“Of course I was. I have always been angry. You try being almost executed by your coven at 19. Given a killing power you never learned how to control. You got just a taste of power and couldn’t handle it. You’d have gone on a spree.” She certainly had, but she didn’t say that part out loud. 

Billy knew, all the same. Who wouldn’t give in to the most powerful, most protective part of them? “Are you still angry?” 

Agatha looked down at you, breathing deep, eyes still behind your heavy lids. “Anger is a part of everyone. If you’re not angry, you’re either stupid or lying. But there are more things than anger. And don’t let anyone give you that positivity bullshit. Life hurts. You can’t stop it from hurting. You just do things anyway. And then you find things to hold onto.” 

Billy’s eyes fall on you too, and Agatha clears her throat loudly. He readjusts and looks back at Agatha. “Alright.” 

“Turn off the light, Teen. I’m going to sleep.” 

__________________

Life had not been kind to Agatha. Gifted with a power that was more of a curse, despised by the one person who was supposed to love her above all. Forced to fend for herself against a cruel mother and a coven that never accepted her. No wonder she turned to the one most reliable part of her, the darkest part of her. No wonder she wanted to get back at the universe, be more powerful than life and death. Bend the rules. But no one is stronger than death. Nicholas, being made partly by Death, was never meant to live. Agatha bent the rules as far as she could. And despite her best efforts, the universe came crashing down on her again, taking her son. Reminding her that she cannot force something that was never meant to be. It was enough to end a person. But Agatha was nothing if not a survivor. And eventually she found things worth holding onto. The most central of whom was now fast asleep in her arms, in the bedroom of a teenage boy. Four centuries of life, day by day, and now she was here. With an emo sidekick and the love of her life and the memory of her very own coven. What a journey. What a way to begin.

Taglist:

@polaris-likethestar

[juniperskye]

Three’s Company

This is just a lil blurb about Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan and you being in love! Based on the following Request: @satans-bitch Hi! Idk if you would be comfortable writing it, but I love the idea of Aaron hotchner x reader x Derek Morgan just all being so in love with each other. Thank u Xx – I took some creative liberties…I hope you like it!

Hotch x BAU! Fem Reader x Morgan

Word count: 883

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, Fem reader, pet names, poly-relationship (I’m not the most familiar with this lifestyle) canon typical violence, mantion of babies and pregnancy, Let me know if I missed any.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

So, neither Derek nor Aaron ever and I mean EVER thought they’d be in a polyamorous relationship. But let me tell you, when you arrived at the BAU, they both knew they had to have you. Aaron had gone to Dave time and time again seeking advice and Derek did the same with Penelope.

They’d both complain that there was no way you were interested, because clearly you like the other guy. Only, that wasn’t quite the issue.

You didn’t just like Aaron or Derek, you liked them both. They were so similar and yet so different and there was no way you could ever choose just one of them.

After many instances of the men fighting for your attention and affection, you pulled them both aside to have a serious conversation.

“I think I should leave the BAU.” You stated.

“What? No!” Derek blurted.

“Why would you think that?” Aaron inquired. “If our behavior has made you uncomfortable, I am so sorry. It was never my intention, and I would hate to see such a talented agent leave because of my idiocy.”

“It’s not your guy’s behavior that’s making me feel this way. It’s my feelings for you.” You said, gesturing to both men.

“Feelings for who?” Derek questioned.

“Both of you.” You blushed.

That evening you’d explained to the men that you had feelings for both of them and had the situation been different you’d have suggested a poly relationship, but you knew that it was too much to ask of two alpha males who’d never been in one before.

What you hadn’t expected to happen was for them to give you a quizzical look and then ask you to give them some time to think about it.

--

It had been nearly a year since then and the three of you had developed something truly beautiful. Aaron had been so stoic at work but at home he was soft, and he always did everything in his power to ensure you and Derek were both cared for.

And well Derek, he was clingy at home. Always wanting his hands on you and he’d come to really enjoy having physical contact with Aaron.

Like when you’d watch a movie, Aaron would have his arm slung over the back of the couch while you cuddled up into his side, and Derek would be sitting as close to you as possible, practically sitting you in his lap. This position would allow for Aaron’s hand to rest around Derek as well and that warmth became a comfort for him.

There had been another shift shortly after that, pet names…they’d been slipping out more frequently. And not just them men using them with you either.

“Sweetheart can you pass me my phone?” Aaron had asked, looking directly at Derek.

“Sure thing sugar.” Derek had replied.

You had been shocked initially, but it ultimately had warmed your heart to see them falling into this relationship more and more. Their comfort in this had been your main priority, you hadn’t cared about anything else.

--

Work had been the toughest part of this newfound dynamic. When any of you got hurt on a case, the other two couldn’t exactly hold it together. And with the team being out of the loop of your lifestyle, well they definitely suspected something.

The most recent had been Aaron, he had been shot while taking down an unsub. Thankfully it had been a flesh wound, but when you heard the shot and saw him go down, you couldn’t help the wail that tore through you. The paramedics had requested you step away, and Derek pulled you into his embrace to get you to comply.

“Baby he’s gonna be okay!” Derek said while holding you close.

“He was shot D! What if he’s not?” You cried.

“I know he’s gonna be okay baby. He has to be.” Derek mumbled the last part.

You looked up to see the tears falling from his misty eyes, and you held him tighter. The team sat by and watched the situation play out, fully convinced now that something was transpiring between the three of you. More than they had initially assumed.

--

The newest development had been the discussion of children. The guys had baby fever, they had seen you interacting with your sister’s newborn and you swear you saw them both drooling over the sight of you.

So…have you ever thought about having kids princess?” Derek posed.

Currently you were lying on the couch, your head in Derek’s lap and him pressed against Aaron. The movie playing, long forgotten as Derek combed his fingers through your hair and Aaron traced shapes on Derek’s bicep.

“Um, yes…I have thought about it. Why do you ask?” You sat up.

“Well, honey, we had a conversation about it the other day.” Aaron clarified.

“You two…had a conversation about me having a baby?” You questioned.

“About us…having a baby.” Derek said, gesturing to the three of you.

Your jaw dropped in shock. What had started as inappropriate flirting in the workplace had developed into a serious relationship between the three of you. One fueled by love, safety, and trust.

“I would love to have a baby with you guys.” You smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

what am i to you? | pablo gavi

🌧️ synopsis: You’ve been by Pablo’s side through his recovery, and now that he’s back on the field, you should be happy for him – but instead, something feels off between you two. He’s your best friend, but recently, your feelings have started to blur. As he returns to his routines, you can't help but wonder: what do you even mean to him? warnings: angst, unrequited love, emotional tension. (around 2.3k words)

part 1

You’ve never been prouder. Watching him back on the field, surrounded by teammates, the adrenaline high in the stadium, the cheers. He's home again, doing what he was born to do. 

You knew this day was coming, prepared yourself for it, even joked about it with him a hundred times. You’re happy for him, of course – that’s the confusing part. Every goal, every little victory feels like yours too. But as he dives back into training, into traveling, you’re realizing you’re on the sidelines again. Like he’s slipping away, and you’re left trying to hold on to something you can barely reach.

It’s subtle at first. Fewer calls, slower replies. And when he does call, he’s distracted, half in the conversation. You almost bring it up, but you don’t. You’re scared it’ll sound like you’re asking for more than he’s willing to give.

So you brush it off, tell yourself this is exactly what you wanted for him. But a part of you wonders if he even notices you’re still here.

Later, with his family at dinner, it’s loud and chaotic like always, but there’s this weird space between you two. His family notices it right away, and they’re tossing you little glances, like they’re silently rooting for you or something. His sister even nudges him, whispering that he should drive you home – but he just laughs it off.

“I’m tired,” he says, leaning back in his chair with a stretch. “And you’re used to getting back on your own anyway, right?” His words feel like a door closing, and for a second, even his sister seems taken aback.

There’s a flicker of irritation in her eyes as she grabs her keys. “Come on,” she says gently, her gaze softening when she looks back at you. “I’ll take you.”

The ride home is quiet at first, you’re grateful for it until you notice her glancing over, a look that feels like she’s piecing something together. Finally, she sighs, like she’s been holding it back.

“Do you like him?” she asks, her voice so gentle that it catches you off guard. The question turns into a tightness in your chest. You’re suddenly blinking back tears, horrified by how obvious you must have been.

You shake your head, trying to laugh it off, but your voice wavers. “He can never know. Ever. You have to promise me you won’t tell.” Your voice cracks, and you look away, trying to get a hold of yourself, but the words are spilling out before you can stop them.

She’s quiet for a moment, frowning. “But he’s hurting your feelings. Maybe if he knew…”

You shake your head harder, gripping the edge of your seat. “No. I’ll get over it. And everything will go back to normal.”

part 2

It’s a week later when invites you to play videogames at his house. He’s slouched on the couch, locked into his controller, barely looking up when he says, “She’s hot, right? I mean, did you see her at the game last week?” He laughs, and it’s like he doesn’t even notice you’re sitting two feet away, trying to disappear into the corner of the sofa.

One of his friends shifts uncomfortably, glancing at you before clearing his throat. “Yeah, uh, anyway… what about that new level we were talking about?”

But Pablo doesn't pick up the hint. “No, seriously, she’s perfect. Couldn’t stop staring,” he goes on, oblivious.

Your stomach twists, and you can feel your gaze drop to the floor, trying to blink back the tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. When it gets too much, you stand up, mutter something like “I’ll be right back,” and slip into the kitchen, hoping no one noticed.

Leaning against the counter, you try to breathe through it, to push down the hurt. This is what it feels like, you think, to want something you’ll never have.

Back in the living room, the silence hangs heavy until one of his friends speaks up, his voice lowered. “Dude, are you serious? She’s right there, and you’re talking like that?”

Pablo lets out a clueless laugh. “What? What did I say?”

“Just… go after her,” one of them says, exasperated. “She’s upset. Go check on her, man.”

A moment later, you hear his footsteps, and he hesitates by the doorway, clearly baffled. 

“Hey… are you okay?” he asks. When you look up, you can tell he’s genuinely surprised, like he didn’t see this coming at all.

You shake your head, wiping at your eyes, mortified he had to see you like this. He watches, still looking lost, and then asks softly, “Did I… do something?”

You try to laugh, but it comes out broken. “No, nothing. I’m fine. It’s silly, really,” you say, wiping at your eyes again. “I just thought… that game was sad or something.”

He tilts his head, giving you a small, half-smile. “Sad?” he repeats, disbelieving. “You don’t usually cry over video games.”

Before you can respond, he steps closer, his hands reaching out instinctively to brush over your shoulders, his thumb moving gently in slow, reassuring circles. Then, without thinking, he leans in, pressing a warm kiss to your temple. “I don’t like seeing you cry,” he murmurs softly.

And it’s moments like these that planted your feelings, you realize, the way he just slips so easily into being close to you, holding you without a second thought. This is Pablo: easy, affectionate, always touchy, with hugs and soft kisses for everyone he cares about.

You remind yourself he’s like this with everyone, that it’s not just you.

“Really, I’m okay,” you murmur, feeling silly for letting it get to you. But he’s still looking at you, his eyes full of that quiet worry, and you can tell he doesn’t entirely believe you.

He pauses, his friends' words clearly replaying in his mind, and he wonders if he’s the reason you’re upset. The thought flits across his face, and it hits him hard; you can see it – a mix of guilt and confusion. But then he blinks, like he’s decided to push that doubt away, choosing instead to trust what you’re telling him, to believe that he knows you better than anyone else.

“Alright,” he whispers, “if you say so.”

He’s so close, and his touch is so gentle that it takes everything in you not to melt right there in his arms. You hold on to every bit of restraint, telling yourself he’s just being the same Pablo he’s always been – kind, warm, a little too affectionate. It’s just who he is.

But his lips brush against your temple again, softer this time, and for a split second, you let yourself believe there’s something more there. Then, you shake off the thought, force a small smile, and hug him back just as tightly.

part 3

It starts with little things at first, the way he lingers a moment longer when he says goodbye, or the concerned looks he shoots your way when he thinks you aren’t paying attention. Pablo’s friends, his family – they’ve all noticed something between you two that he can’t quite understand yet. And after weeks of sensing that something’s wrong, he finally works up the courage to bring it up.

“Let’s do something, just us,” he says. And of course, you say yes, because when have you ever been able to say no to him?

So the next day, you’re with him, walking around the lake, your lake, tracing the same path you used to take during his recovery. He’s shuffling his feet, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, kicking stones in that aimless way he does when he’s nervous. For a while, he doesn’t say anything, just walks beside you in silence, and you start to wonder if maybe he’s changed his mind. But then he looks over, all serious, his giant puppy eyes holding that sincere, almost vulnerable look that gets you every time.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he starts, and there’s this pause, like he’s searching for the right words. “With you, I don’t have to pretend. Everyone else… I don’t know, there’s always this pressure. But with you, I can just… be me.” He smiles a little, like he’s surprised at his own honesty. “I don’t know what I’d do without that.”

And there it is – the thing you’ve been aching for and dreading all at once, the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the one who grounds him, who keeps him steady. You try to keep your expression calm, neutral, but it’s hard to hide the hurt, the way your chest tightens because he has no idea. And of course, he notices. He’s Pablo, and despite everything, he knows you too well to miss it.

“Wait,” he says, scared of what he’s about to uncover. “Is there… something more?”

And here it comes, this big moment you’ve been holding off, the thing you’ve been trying so hard to ignore. You want to say something, anything to deflect, to shrug it off like it’s nothing, but he’s looking at you with this intensity that tells you he’s not going to let it go.

“God, I’m such an idiot,” he mutters, half to himself, and there’s this look on his face, like he’s piecing together all these little things he missed, connecting dots he didn’t even know were there. And now, it’s like he’s finally seeing the whole picture, and it’s both surprising and heartbreaking.

He reaches for your hand, his thumb tracing a gentle line over your knuckles, the touch so familiar it makes your heart ache. “You… you feel something for me. Something more.” His voice is barely above a whisper, like he’s testing the words, trying to make sense of this new reality. You see it all hit him – the shock, the guilt, even a bit of regret.

“I didn’t know,” he says softly, his eyes searching for yours, pleading. “I thought… I thought you saw me like family. Like… a brother.” He lets out a little laugh, but it’s sad. “I even tried flirting with you once, remember? But I stopped because I thought I’d ruin this.”

And there it is, the confession he’s been holding back, the words that sting and comfort you all at once. He takes a deep breath, his voice catching as he finally says it out loud. “I love you, you know that? I love you so much that… that I don’t think of you like that. Because I can’t imagine my life without you. Ever.”

His words settle between you, heavy and bittersweet. You know he means it, that he loves you with this raw, overwhelming intensity – but not in the way you wanted. And as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, you realize you’ll have to live with that. He’s here, holding you tight, whispering words meant to reassure you, but they only tear you apart a little more.

“Say something, please,” he murmurs, his voice thick, like he’s afraid he’s pushed you too far.

And somehow, through the ache in your chest, the words spill out, broken and raw. “I’m trying so hard to get over you it’s hurting me.”

He holds you tighter, his hand gently rubbing your back as he whispers, “I never wanted you to feel like this.”

You pull away slightly, not enough to break free, but enough to look him in the eye. And the words spill out before you can stop them, your voice unsteady, a mix of disbelief and hurt. “I can’t believe you just told me all these things just to tell me we’re just friends.”

Your chest tightens, the weight of it all hitting you like a wave. You try to hold it together, but everything you’ve been hiding, everything you’ve been burying inside, starts to unravel. “Am I crazy?” you ask, the question coming out sharper than you intended. “You really can’t see anything more?”

It’s too much. The way he looks at you, like he wants to take it all back, like he never meant to cause you this pain. You try to swallow the knot in your throat, but it’s impossible to ignore how his words cut into you, leaving you feeling exposed, raw.

Pablo shifts, his eyes searching yours, unsure of how to fix this, how to make it better. His expression flickers between guilt, confusion, and a sort of helplessness. “I… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just–” He stops himself, running a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “I just don’t want to lose you, okay? But I can’t... I can’t think of you like that.”

Your heart feels like it’s breaking all over again, and you take a step back, too afraid to hear more. “You don’t get it, do you?” you whisper, the words barely audible. “You’ve always been everything to me...”

Pablo stares at you for a long moment, his mouth slightly open as if he’s searching for something, anything, that will make sense of it. Finally, his shoulders slump, defeated. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and the sincerity in his voice makes the hurt even worse. “I wish I could give you what you want… but I can’t.”

The silence stretches between you both, thick and heavy, and you don’t know whether to scream, cry, or just run away from it all. Every inch of you is torn between wanting to hold on to him and the overwhelming pain of knowing he doesn’t feel the same. “I don’t want to lose you either,” you whisper, but the words don’t carry the weight they should. They feel hollow, desperate. “Can we just pretend, then? I promise I’ll try harder to get over this, I just can’t lose you.”

Your voice cracks at the end. You want to believe it’s possible, that maybe pretending – just for a little while – will ease the ache, but deep down, you know it’s not that simple. You can't just switch off what you've felt for so long, not now.

But it’s all you have left, isn’t it? The hope that somehow you can make things work, even when you know it's tearing you apart.

[verycoolusername1]

Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another

Summary: Luke meets your parents, which leads to taking a huge step in your relationship.

Luke Hughes x gn!reader

Warning! Mentions of a embarrassing childhood story(that I have made up((it isn't that bad) 😔)

A/N: I have never been more tired but man is Hotch(from criminal minds) so damn fine in the earlier seasons- I miss him more every single day.

And I gave your parents names to help me keep track of them... guys say hi to Bobby and Athena(definitely wasn't taken from a certain fox/abc show about first responders whatsoever)!!

You fixed your hair for what felt like the tenth time in the past five minutes. Luke groaned quietly besides you, wanting to do nothing more than to hold you.

Yours and Luke's relationship was fairly new, only ten months in, and you decided it was time for him to meet your parents.

"Are you done now?" Luke asked the question for the 3rd time.

You sighed. "Yes, I'm just nervous. Everything needs to be perfect."

Your parents were coming in to visit you since Luke and the team were staying home a couple of days.

"Everything is going to be perfect, no need to stress." He kissed the crown of your head.

"Well, I'm sorry for wanting my parents to like you." You joked, but it did nothing to ease your nerves.

The doorbell rings, scaring the two of you.

"Shit," you cursed. "They're here." You grabbed Luke's hand and took him to the living room but not before fixing his shirt and hair.

"My hair is fine, baby stop it." Luke swats your hand away.

"No, it's not," You continued to fix it before the doorbell rang again, and you sighed in frustration. "Don't touch it."

Luke rolls his eyes. "Aye aye captain."

You walked up to the door and were greeted by your parents.

"Oh Y/N there you are." Your mother smiled warmly at you.

"I was beginning to think we were at the wrong place." Your dad joked.

"Just had to fix stuff up is all." You said, but you didn't miss your mom's glance. "Not like that, mom!"

Your mom only chuckled in response, moving past you. "Now, where's this boy you keep talking about?"

"He has a name." You told her.

"Which is?" Your dad snickered at your mom's patience.

"Luke." He appeared from the bedroom. "Luke Hughes. It's a pleasure to meet you both, Mrs. and Mr. Y/L/N."

"Oh please, sweetie, call me Athena." Your mom looked at him warmly.

Your dad shook his hand. "Bobby is fine. No need to be formal son."

While they shook hands, your mom whispered to you. "He sure is tall."

"Yeah I know, you should see his brothers." You told her.

Your mother's eyes widened. "There's more??"

"Just two mom, both older." You answered.

"So tell me about yourself, Luke, Y/N was just telling me you had two brothers." Athena spoke.

The four of you guys recently moved to the kitchen as you got the plates.

"Uh yeah, two older brothers, Quinn and Jack. We actually live with Jack, Y/N cause I asked and me and Jack work together. He makes appearances here and there mostly to tease us."

"Yeah, siblings tend to do that." Bobby chuckles.

"You said you and Jack work together? What do you guys do?" Athena asked.

"Oh uh actually me and my brothers play hockey, professionally." He answered.

"So your other brother Quinn isn't on the same team with you two." Bobby put the pieces together.

"Yeah, don't get to see him much during the season, but during the summer, we hang out all the time." Luke adds.

You came back with plates, clearly struggling. Something that Luke had noticed.

"Hey baby, cmon, let me." He took two of the plates away from you and served your parents.

Your parents observed the scene with a silent conversation between eyes.

"I was doing fine, Luke." You sighed.

"You were totally going to drop the plates. You don't have to do things by yourself. You can always ask Jack and I to help, I tell you that all the time." Luke mumbles.

"Y/N was always known for being stubborn. It'll take them a while to finally let you help." Bobby reassuranced Luke.

"Yeah, like once when they were younger, they were so sure they were going to be a lawyer." Athena says an example. "But refused to ask for any advice from their aunt who was a district attorney, said they wanted to do it by themselves and didn't need help from anyone."

"Sounds like Y/N, alright." Luke chuckles but quickly stops when he sees your glare.

You noticed your parents seem to be welcoming Luke in with open arms, which was a shock, considering the last time you brought your ex home, they were furious. But then again, you were also a teenager. Now you're an adult.

Your dad seemed to catch the interaction between the two of you and laughed. "Don't be mean to your boyfriend Y/N." He scolds playfully.

"I wasn't being mean just warning him is all." You smiled innocently.

Now your mother started laughing. "We certainly raised them well."

"Yeah, no, we did." Bobby chuckles alongside his wife.

The four of you ate the meal with laughter and jokes till it was time for your parents to leave.

Your dad talking with Luke before pulling him into a hug, your mom pulled you to the side.

"He's good for you, Y/N." She said, you nodded.

"I know." You smiled softly.

"Don't let him slip through your fingers honey." She hugged you. "And let him help you from time to time." She winked.

You groaned. "I thought we was over that."

"Oh please we'll never get over that sweetie." She kissed you on the cheek. "We'll text you when we get back, love you."

"Love you guys, too." And with that, you shut the door.

"That went better than expected." Luke says beside you.

"If your definition of better is disaster. Just promise me one thing, baby?" You looked at him.

"Anything." He hummed.

You looked at him sternly. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid... like ever in front of me, or I will break up with you."

Luke chuckles. "Noted."

[thezombieprostitute]

I recently saw a pair of ladies' underwear available online (I swear this is the most questionable way I've ever begun a message to someone, I swear I was just shopping) that had the text 'Achievement Unlocked' printed on the front, and that made me think of Jake & Tech Tuesdays. 😅 Just thought I'd share in case you were amused by it.

This is definitely going in the Jake & Sunshine Flashback Files.

Summary: Jake knows he's the luckiest man in the world and it's all because of you.

Warnings: Mild smut. Please let me know if I missed any!

Word Count: ~2.1k

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Jake was nervous. More nervous than he'd ever been in his life. And he'd been shot at before! It was your first date and he really wanted things to go well. You were so beautiful, kind, funny, smart and he was just a dork who got by everyone that he talked too much. Well, everyone but you told him that. It was another reason he felt he really needed to make this date perfect. No one else treated him so well and he knew he had to treat you like the angel of mercy and light you were to him.

What he didn't know was that you were just as nervous. The cute IT guy who never dissuaded you from talking about your interests, even shared your interests, was taking you on a date! You knew you weren't likely to find someone else as sweet. Well, sweet for now. A part of you was kept in check, reminding you that upfront kindness and interest rarely lasted longer than a month or so. Still, Jake felt different than those other guys. You felt so safe around him, and that counts for a lot!

Jake hits the buzzer for your apartment right on time. He'd been standing there for at least 20 minutes but didn't want to hit the button too early or too late. When you confirm it's him you hit the button to let him up and do all the last second preparations you think you need to make. He knocks on the door and you open it to find him holding a bouquet of yarn skeins. Your hands fly to your mouth in surprise and you bounce on your toes with excitement. Jake breathes a sigh of relief at the evidence that it was the right move.

Your first date is a blur of laughter, friendly conversation, and even some snuggling. Being the gentleman that he is, Jake walks you to your building door and you both feel the sparks fly at your first kiss. You won't know it for a few more months but after you parted ways for the night, you both did an excited victory dance.

It's your second date and you're so much more giddy than nervous. You and Jake had been messaging each other so much at work you were scared HR was going to step in. And you continued to have your lunches together whenever you could. You marveled at the fact that Jake hadn't seemed to tire of you talking about your favorite shows and movies.

Jake was equally happy that he could talk to you about his favorite things. He could jabber on and on and you would never scoff at him, derisively call him a nerd, ask him who cares about these things. And you would counter with your own good points and perspectives. He swears your conversations are the highlight of his days.

In fact, your second date was just an extended version of your lunch dates, but neither of you seemed to mind. You were both so comfortable and enjoying the time together. There was significantly more snuggling and you didn't wait for Jake to walk you to your door before you started kissing him. Jake was internally struggling to keep himself in check. Desperately wanting to make you happy, overjoyed at the affection, and trying to pay attention to your signals so he wouldn't overstep.

You wanted to bring Jake up to your apartment but you also didn't want to move too fast. He was so sweet, smart and strong and you didn't want to ruin it. Gently pushing his chest, he gets the hint and lets up. You thank him for a wonderful night and kiss the tip of his nose before giggling and asking him for a third date. Any fear you had that he'd be disappointed was gone the second his smile grew and his eyes lit up.

The work week before your third date was grueling. You were both so eager for the weekend, for unfettered access to each other, it made the work days go by so much slower. The two of you spent your lunches practically cuddling as you ate, exchanging little kisses. You'd been told that, so long as your work wasn't affected, HR would not step in. Though you're pretty sure you've seen some coworkers roll their eyes at you.

You try not to take it to heart when one or two of them give you a "friendly warning" about him losing interest after he gets sex. Jake's already so delightfully different from other guys you dated. He actually listened to you about your likes and dislikes. He didn't get you flowers, he got you yarn! He didn't order for you at restaurants. He didn't do backhanded compliments. He felt so genuine.

In fact, you felt so confident about Jake that, during your lunch, you asked him if he'd be willing to change up the plans for that weekend's date.

"What did you have in mind?" he stammers, hoping the last minute change isn't a bad sign.

"I was thinking," you hesitate a little. "I was thinking you could come over to my place and...and I'll cook? And we can watch movies together?" Heat rushes to your face as you start second guessing yourself.

Jake takes your hand, "that sounds awesome! Is there anything you want me to bring? Do you want me to help cook? I'm not much of a cook, but I can definitely clean up! Oh, and would you like me to bring some of my DVDs? We can compare libraries if you'd like."

You giggle, feeling a lot better than you did a few seconds ago. "Well, you said you have the Collector's Edition Highlander?"

He beams, "I'll happily bring it!"

As soon as he gets to his desk, Jake immediately calls up his friend, Cougar, for advice. He explains the conversation and Cougar just chuckles and says, "relax. Take a deep breath and be yourself. She's clearly into it."

"Thanks for that," Jake sarcastically replies.

"You're welcome," Cougar replies before hanging up.

Jake arrives with the promised DVD and, in lieu of a bouquet, he hands you a floral Lego set that has you bouncing on your toes in delight. As you let Jake inside he takes a deep breath and his mouth is immediately watering at the delicious smells from the kitchen. His cheeks turn pink as you both hear the grumbling from his stomach.

"Please tell me you've eaten today," you say, a little giggle in your voice.

"I...I'm pretty sure I did," he replies, his hand running through his hair as his cheeks redden. "I know I ate breakfast, I can promise that much." In truth he'd spent so much of the day nervous about the date he'd done everything except eat.

"You need to take better care of yourself," you gently chide with a kiss to his cheek. "I hope you don't mind that it's only spaghetti and garlic bread."

"'Only'? That sounds divine! And not just because I'm hungry."

"I'm glad to hear it," you confess. "I just need to dish it up and then we can eat. You can go ahead and sit."

Jake goes to the table, "which chair is yours?" You give him a confused look so he continues, "I mean, I'm a guest. I don't want to take your favorite spot. If you prefer this chair or that, I'll take the other one."

You smile in understanding and direct him to the chair that's further from the kitchen.

You bring out the plates and can't help but giggle at how he looks like such an eager puppy. The two of you talk, conversation flowing easily. Though you've only known each other a few months, it really feels like you've been together forever. There's a feeling of safety in each other's presence that makes you want to be together for the rest of forever.

When the meal is over you suggest it's time to start the movie, but as it starts up, neither of you is really paying much attention. Instead your both very aware of each other's presence. Jake had trouble keeping his breathing steady as you snuggled up to him. You had to fight to keep your hands in your lap, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Instead you opt to lay your head on his shoulder and he wraps his arm around your shoulders.

That's when you decide to try to be a bit bold.

You move one of your hands to Jake's leg and gauge his reaction. You think you hear his breath hitch but he doesn't protest. You start slowly, gently rubbing your hand along the leg of his jeans and his breathing definitely quickens.

"I can stop if you'd like me to," you rasp. You'd been so focused on Jake's breathing you hadn't realized how much your own had quickened.

Jake's brain is in panic mode. He wants you to never stop touching him, but he doesn't want you to feel like you have to. Then again, you're offering to keep going, you started this of your own volition. "Please don't stop," he finally croaks out.

"Would...would you like me to touch more than just your leg?" The groan Jake lets out makes you feel like his brain has just short circuited and needs a restart. "I mean, we don't have to. Especially if you're not comfortable with it." You remove your hand from his leg. "I never want you to be uncomfortable. I'm so sorry if I--".

You're cut off by Jake grabbing both sides of your face and bringing you in for a deep kiss. Your body moves mostly on instinct as you move to straddle him, and he moans into your mouth as you settle over his hard-on. You gently roll your hips and he whimpers, making the corners of your mouth turn up into a smile. You pull away from him and giggle as his lips follow yours.

"Not...not to be...too forward," you gasp, "but would...would you like to um, to...the bedroom?"

Jake looks into your eyes and sees how hopeful yet scared you are. He wants nothing more than to live up to that hope. He's so scared he's going to disappoint you. That it'll be a deal-breaker for you if he's not good enough in bed. In truth, disappointing you feels like it would break him. At the same time, if he doesn't take you up on your offer, you'll be disappointed as well. He ends up nodding his heading, not trusting himself to speak.

"Are you sure, Jakey? I need you to tell me 'yes'."

"Yes, oh dear lord, yes. I want you so badly that I'm scared I'll disappoint you. Please, yes, I've wanted this for so long--"

He's cut off by your finger moving over his lips in a shushing fashion as you giggle. "You don't have to prove anything," you promise. You get off of his lap and hold out your hand for him. He accepts, kissing the back of your hand, then up your arm, then along your collarbone, making you giggle again.

You lead him to your bedroom and sit on the bed before pulling him over you. He's very careful not to crush you but when you wrap your legs around his hips and pull him in close he loses a little control. You moan as you feel more of his weight on you and he lets his hands roam everywhere he can get them.

As clothes start to come off you marvel at how muscular Jake really is. You'd known he was strong but seeing it was something else. You trace your fingers along some of his tattoos as he works over your breasts. He's fondling, pinching, licking, nipping and you swear you're going to lose your mind from how good it feels. You start moaning his name and Jake swears he's in heaven.

"Jake," you coo, making him stop everything so he can listen to you. "Wanna feel you inside me, please?"

"You're too good to me, Sunshine," he rasps.

He starts pulling off your pants but stops when he sees your panties. They have the Xbox Achievement Unlocked icon. Jake looks at you and give him a sly smile and a wink.

"I...I may have planned for this," you confess, heat rushing to your face. "I just...wanted to be prepared."

Jake laughs and kisses you all over, feeling a renewed sense of calm. A sense that he was going to be okay. That you were his safe space.

-------

He saw those panties again a few years later on your wedding night.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory;

@late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

[hulloitsdani]

Book 2 is done! And damn I forgot how good it is.

Okay before someone lights me up for my next statement, Path of Radiance and Radiant Dawn are some of the best video games written. Period. Not even on the same playing field as other Fire Emblem games in my opinion. And I think one of the reasons why book 2 of Heroes works as well as it does is because it’s taking notes from Path of Radiance. And guys, it’s so god damn fun. Surtr is such a good villain, Fjorm deserves to commit some murder as a treat, and every second Helbindi is on screen is absolute gold.

Hold on I gotta go off about Helbindi actually. He’s a type of character I wish we got more of in FEH as a whole. He purely has his own story going on and never has a real conversation with our protagonists. And it’s a perfect decision. The world feels so much more lived in as a result and it makes his situation all the more tragic. They could have helped him, but why would that conversation ever happen? It’s amazing. Not mentioning that every word out of his mouth is pure gold. Favorite line of the entire book is from him— “I know that you were hoping to be slaughtered by the best, so I crawled out of the depths of hell, just for you!” Like man. MAN. Fucking get it Helbindi.

If his chapter 12 part 3 conversation with Laegjarn (where she breaks the news that his sister is dead) was voice acted and/or given more expressive visuals, it might actually get me! Perhaps make me feel a feeling. Because it’s genuinely heartbreaking! We don’t need the on screen build up of his relationship with his sister for it to be so either. Between his actions and the narrative parallels drawn between himself and Laegjarn, we know. Man it’s really good.

You know who else was fun this book? Anna! Like genuinely! Trusting this lady with my life. She’s got a few scenes that become REALLY interesting in retrospect. First and foremost being, woah book 8 foreshadowing? In my book 2? Fascinating! If you can recall, in book 8 we learn that the Order’s initial purpose was a lot more shady. As in, might have been trained to do political assassinations type of shady. Anna specifically worked for, trains for, and might have actively been in charge while this was still the case. And there’s a line in book 2 chapter 5 part 1 where she says verbatim, “There’s a reason why I’m the commander! If I know one thing, it’s how to sneak a squad through enemy territory…” It is then this skill that makes the Order such a menace within a Múspell occupied Nilf. Despite their smaller size and disadvantage, finding and catching up to them is a genuine issue that Laegjarn has to put a lot of thought into effectively countering. She even likens it to a hunt. We can then assume this propensity for stealth is key to the Order’s survival against a majority of their encounters with divine forces. The problem is that I genuinely don’t recall if this ever gets highlighted again past this point. I don’t think it does, but man it would be so fun if it was. More build up to this reveal please it would be so neat. Anna backstory ever so slowly being ringed out of her over literal years would drive me insane in the best possible way.

I also enjoyed Fjorm a lot more than I thought I would? In recent years, she’s treated more like an anime waifu, for lack of a better way of putting it. And I’m personally not the biggest fan of it. But it turns out she is getting a bit of a Lucina treatment— it’s as if after Grima was defeated, Awakening kept going and Lucina, with her driving motivation gone, was given an arc about crushing really hard on Robin. It’s not a good follow up, but Fjorm in her original story and context is pretty fun! Like her a lot actually! I am so down with helping this girl kill Surtr. Sign me up bestie. Let’s go get you some vengeance.

I also love how her vengeance is framed? This very well might be some left over Fates trauma talking, but it bothers me when the anime war crimes game makes a big deal about how killing people is wrong. Of course it is and it theoretically could be an interesting thing to talk about. But, in order to convince an audience that our protagonists are moral paragons that can do no wrong, there’s sometimes an insistence that no one here is killing anybody. In the anime medieval fantasy war game. I vaguely remember feh itself trying to do something similar at some point in the future, but not with Fjorm. People are dying horribly in this book and Fjorm is killing people. Her quest to kill Surtr comes from a deeply wrathful place and is noticeably self destructive, but no one tries to talk her down. How could they? For multiple reasons, they simply cannot. The most that can be done is Sharena insisting that Fjorm rest before she keels over. Reading it now, I cannot shake the feeling that if there is a world where Fjorm cannot kill Surtr yet somehow survived, she becomes a problem. Hell, she probably becomes a similar monster to Líf.

…oh shit is that point? Oh damn I think that’s the point.

Man book 2 is good.

Truly the only thing dragging this down is the racial undertones, which do make me extremely uncomfortable! It’s the major reason why I don’t revisit book 2 more. Surtr and Helbindi’s designs and characters are fucking fantastic, but god damnit guys the stereotype being propagated here is really not good! Hell, while we’re here, Bruno is also part of this. It’s not screaming it on a visual level like the other two, but come on, the only dark skinned character in the cast at the time is also the one has a curse on a his blood that makes him violent? That’s not cute! Don’t do that!

It’s not really the hardest fix either. Sure, the best case scenario would have been getting a second pair of eyes on that before that was an inextricable part of the final product. But, be honest, would anything really be lost if Nifl’s royal family also had some melanin? Or even some of our main cast? It would mellow out those undertones, that’s for sure. Also darker skinned Hríd and Gunnthrá could be so fucking pretty you guys oh my god. Can you see my vision? The second I have some free time I am drawing that.

Anyway, the consensus is that book 2 is really good and should be way higher on my FEH book rankings. Definitely got some flaws, but it is a great ride from beginning to end.

Um. So. I may have gotten stressed and started transcribing FEH’s story mode. Might currently have all of book 1 written down. Perhaps a third of the way into book 2.

This started as a way to have the preface chapters handy since they’re not replayable. But then I looked on the FE wiki and saw that they only have a small fraction of the chapters written down. And that scared me, because means that my hyperfixation has a nonzero chance of becoming lost media if the app were to go down one day. So now I have all of book 1 in my back pocket, including the preface, two intermissions, and the two relevant xenologues. Once I’m further along and have a few more books accounted for, I have no problem making the document public. But until then I encourage others to also write some of its content down. Just in case, you know? Especially those prologues and Tempest Trials.

With that PSA out of the way, omg book 1 hi!!!! It’s been forever!!!!

Apparently, I haven’t reread book 1 in its entirety since I first played Heroes! I’ve gone back to look for specific scenes and replayed the levels on harder difficulties (self inflicted or otherwise), but I haven’t done a thorough second pass before. Which was news to me, because that meant I was consistently blindsided by scenes and characterization that I completely forgot about! Did any of you remember that Zacharias was apparently Alfonse and Sharena’s childhood friend? I didn’t! But there it is, chapter 7 part 5 after battle cutscene, Anna specifies that aspect of their relationship. That’s crazy! How does the timeline even line up on that??? If he spent his childhood in Askr, how did he manage to have a strong relationship with his significantly younger sister? How did he find himself rubbing shoulders with enemy royalty? Could he have inadvertently met Peony? I’m not changing my takes on his character, but I would love to know.

Speaking of character, apparently seven years spent writing a character naturally changes how they sound! Who would have thought. It made seeing the book 1 versions of our Askr trio a little jarring, but in an oddly nostalgic way! This was a phase of the game where the story, its characters, and its world existed with the singular purpose of introducing new players to what Heroes was trying to do. Which was, at the time, being a cute yet unobtrusive gacha app tie in with simplified FE mechanics to give you that gameplay fix on the go. And to its credit, it does do a good job of this! It ain’t a masterpiece, but I was charmed by its emphasis on showing off all these cool characters you could go summon. Ryoma gets to talk for a few lines and you are going to look at his very pretty art! But that meant that the world and characters of Zenith take a bit of a backseat. They’re not here to be too complicated. The Order of Heroes are the friendly faces that go on adventures and meet these heroes that you can summon for only $19.99. But we all know where the game and its story is going to go from here. That emphasis is going to wane as FEH grows into its own identity (and also earn IntSys over $1 billion worldwide).

But that’s a later development. Before that fundamental shift is where book 1 sits. It’s in this fascinating position where these characters have yet to solidify into their recognizable forms. And if you don’t believe me, chapter 9 part 4 has a scene where Sharena and Alfonse’s roles have reversed. For once, Sharena is posing the cautionary “what if the information we are getting from this total stranger is a trap?”, to which Alfonse responds “nah I’m getting a vibe that it’s fine and that we should believe him whole heartedly.” Like??? Huh???? It’s Bruno, but still, that’s hilarious! Alfonse’s pragmatism bordering on paranoia hasn’t established itself as a massive driver of his character yet. Nor has Sharena’s role as trusting emotional core and moral compass of the group. It was very easy to borderline Mandela Effect it into being there, but it isn’t. Not quite. There are hints, sure, but once again these characters were initially made to be simple at the time. The depth doesn’t quite exist yet.

It wasn’t until I was writing this very paragraph that it finally dawned on me why the Askr trio voice lines, especially Alfonse’s lines, are such a big deal. That's where Alfonse’s character arc with trusting Kiran resides. There's the pragmatism we know and love! It’s not super present in the text of book 1, but the depth of these characters can be found in the voice lines you unlock from building them and earning the crown jewel level 40 conversation. That’s where Alfonse’s arc with his self isolating behaviors crumbles at that sight of one silly tactician. That’s where Sharena finally wins a fight against her own loneliness by forming genuine friendship with this stranger form a strange land, who is appreciative of her loud eccentricities. That’s where Anna apologizes about her initial underestimation of Kiran, thanks them for being more reliable than she could have ever hoped for, and swears that whatever hell may come their way, they’re in this together. The books themselves don’t seem to reflect this characterization until book 2, where they overall act more in accordance with the rest of the narrative. It’s as if they're taking from the voiced lines’ example and extrapolating more on the story they imply.

The one standing in slight contrast to all this is Bruno, as he's the most interesting character in book 1. It's blaringly obvious he's Zacharias, but it's genuinely amusing how deep he is in his own gaslighting. He can't manipulate, mansplain, manwhore his way out of this one folks, but he's certainly going to try! His lies aren't even that good, but it honestly contributes to how at wits end he is. Like, sure honey, I totally believe you that you just killed Zacharias. I bet he has an eight-pack too. Just take a nap for two minutes. But then everyone believes him because our protagonists have yet meld their group braincell. Overall, an amusing time.

I don't have a particular point I'm trying to make with this one. Just having a fun and pointing out the things I've noticed. Might give a little update for every book I complete. However many that will be.

[kindahoping4forever]

The tiktok with the roses was straight out of Encore and when he posted that video of himself watching the sun on his birthday, that reminded me of your fic about the birthday camping trip! Clearly he's been reading thru the kh4f archive for ideas!

I had absolutely 100% forgot the camping fic was a birthday fic as well omg 😭😭

[ggukkiedae]

another little personal spiel that im adding in the tags, ignore me if you're not interested~

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

I really loved your career day fic and I was wondering if you could do a Shut up mom fic with the same lineup with nanami tho if you write for him🥺 👉👈

Shut up, Mom!

Tags: teeth rotting fluff, mostly crack, cursing, jjk men as dads / fem!reader

An: I would be delighted to write this anon :) my requests are open, loves. If you want me to write a specific idea, definitely ask and I’ll try to deliver on it! also, if anyone wants to be on a taglist please let me know. So, I gave Sukuna a kid in this one because I didn’t really see Yuji calling you mom or him dad. Yuji calls you two unc and auntie :)

SATORU • SUGURU • TOJI • SUKUNA • NANAMI

SATORU

“Aoi, did you take out the trash?” You ask your nine-year-old son while trying not to giggle. Aoi has recently discovered pranks, and he suggested playing one on Satoru. You couldn’t help but think that was an amazing idea.

Your husband was leisurely sitting on the couch, playing a game on the console he and your son shared. He was able to see you from his peripheral vision while you and Aoi were in the dining room. He didn’t seem to be too intrigued by the conversation, but Satoru is a chronic eavesdropper. He can’t help it with his technique and all.

“No, mom. Why can’t you do it?” Aoi plays his role perfectly, even throwing in an annoyed groan at you. Gojo cut his eyes towards you two, but he stayed silent for a moment. He knew this was your battle to face, and he wasn’t usually the disciplinary parent anyways.

“Because I told you to do it, Aoi. It’s your chore.” You say, putting on a serious voice as you would if he had really been sassing off to you.

“Ugh. Shut up, mom!” Aoi yells with a dramatic eye roll.

Immediately, you hear the game console cut off. It seems like you two had garnered Satoru’s attention. Footsteps carry into the dining room, and your all too tall husband leans against the doorframe.

Aoi sees his father, and his eyes widen. Your little actor. He then tries to walk off, but Satoru easily put his hand out against Aoi’s chest, preventing him from going anywhere.

“Woah, woah, woah, there little man. Who do you think you’re talking to there?” He interjects as his hands slowly unwrap his bindings from around his eyes, letting you know that he’s about to get serious.

“She’s getting on my nerves, dad!” Aoi continues to play the role, even though you can tell that he’s scared shitless.

“Hey, look at me.” Satoru says as he bends his knees to be eye level with Aoi. Your son complies with his dad’s order. “I don’t give a shit, okay? Never, and I mean, never tell your mother to shut up unless you intend on fighting me afterwards. She says to take out the trash, you say yes and take out the trash. Do you understand me?” Satoru says as he holds his son’s shoulders, squeezing them a bit so Aoi knows he’s not fooling around.

“Because I don’t think you want to fight me, do you?” Satoru questions. His blue eyes beam in the light, making your son nervously sweat.

“Baby, it’s just a prank.” You quickly interject with a laugh as you gently nudge your husband away from your son.

“Yeah dad, I was just acting!!” Aoi’s nervous gaze flutters into an adorable smile.

Satoru rolls his eyes and playfully laughs along. “You two are too silly, makin’ me turn off my game for this.” He shakes his head as he wraps his eyes back up.

“You were like gonna hollow purple me!” Aoi shouts with an excited laugh, and he reenacts Satoru’s cursed technique.

“Yeah, I love your mom a little too much.” Satoru responds with a grin up towards your direction.

SUGURU

Mimiko and Nanako are coming into their teen years, and recently, they’ve been obsessed with the idea of TikTok. After seeing the “shut up mom” prank all over, they knew that they had to play it on Suguru.

You, of course, agreed to help them pull off their little shenanigan.

“You two are not going out. It’s a school night.” You chide at the twin girls, giving them a small wink as Suguru was enjoying a cup of tea while sitting at the breakfast bar. He was scrolling mindlessly on his phone, reading the news or something like that.

“Mom, please. Everyone’s going.” Nanako pled and even threw in a small pout.

“Yeah, who cares if it’s a school night?” Mimiko chimed in.

“Girls.” Suguru warned as he normally did when you were having to deal with the twins. He didn’t like the idea of the girls ganging up on you.

“I said no. I bet you two didn’t even do your homework yet either.” You carry on, eyeing the two girls as if they were really in trouble.

“Ugh! Mom, shut up!” The girls somehow managed to say in sync. The two had obviously practiced their lines.

The tea glass hit the counter, and Suguru a stood up from his seat on the stool. “Hey. I don’t ever want to hear that kind of language in this house, especially not to your mother. Got that?” He said as he eyed your daughters.

Your husband was a bit of a strict father to the girls. He really just wanted them to turn out good, so he was the main disciplinary figure in the house.

“Dad! She’s-“

“Aht.” He cuts Mimiko off, and starts to walk up to the girls. “I didn’t ask. Apologize to your mother this instant. Then, go upstairs and do your homework. You two are grounded from going out for at least a month.”

“Sugu, it’s a prank.” You say as you can’t hold back a laugh from how angry he got that quickly. “It’s a prank, sweetie.”

Your two girls were nodding quickly, holding their hands out in surrender. “We saw it on TikTok!”

Suguru rolls his eyes at the three of you. “That app is no good for you.” He quietly chides. “Did you two do your homework?”

Mimiko and Nanako exchange nervous glances, and they both run up to their rooms to get it done.

Your husband laughs quietly and shakes his head before sitting back down on his stool. You walk over towards him and card your fingers through his long hair. He lets out a long exhale of contentment while leaning his head into your touch. “What are we gonna do with those two, hm?”

“Love them and try our best to teach them.” You softly respond before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

TOJI

Toji is a pretty laid back dad. He lets you take the lead on a lot of the parenting aspects, since it comes to you more naturally than it does with him. However.. he has his moments.

“Megumi, come help me do the dishes.” You say to your 13-year-old son. He’s in that weird stage of puberty where you’re his best friend one day and his worst enemy the next, which means he sometimes agreed to play pranks with you.

“Busy, mom.” He mumbles at the table as he’s trying to learn the hand signs for one of his shikigami. He was left learning this stuff on his own since Toji wasn’t a sorcerer, and you weren’t apart of the Zenin clan. You had no idea how to do the hand gestures.

“You can do that after you’re done helping me, Gumi.” You say as you turn on the kitchen sink. Your son doesn’t even acknowledge that you said anything.

Toji eyes him from his seat at the dining table, waiting for his son to comply.

“Gumi. Get in here.” You finally say after a minute of him not responding to you.

“Shut up, Mom!” He raises his voice at you, and immediately, Toji is on him quicker than you could respond.

“What did you just say to your mother, brat?” Toji grits as he stares down at his teenage son. Megumi looked back up at him mortified. “I brought you in this world, and I will take your ass out of it if I hear you speak to your mom like that again.”

“Baby, baby, baby, it’s a prank!” You say as you rush over to Toji. Megumi cracks a nervous smile, and you gently nudge Toji back.

“It’s a prank!” Megumi shouts as he leans back away from Toji slightly.

Your husband lets out an annoyed grunt. “You two play too much. Gonna make me kill my own son.” He says as he releases Megumi’s shoulder. He walks back over to his seat at the dining table and smacks your ass on the way back.

SUKUNA

“Ryu, come take out the trash!” You yell to your son. He recently brought up the idea of pranking Sukuna by yelling at you to shut up in front of him. You had urged your son that this was a bad idea, but he was persistent.

Sukuna was sat at the dining table, eating whatever Uraume had prepared for him. Usually, Uraume handled the trash as well, but you distinctly told them to leave it.

There’s no response.

“Ryu! Trash now!” You call out again in a more frustrated tone.

Sukuna is biting his tongue at this point. There is nothing that he hates more than insolence, especially towards you. You’re his queen, and he demands for all to respect you, including his son.

No response.

“Ryu!”

“Okay mom! Shut the fuck up!”

All four of Sukuna’s eyes widened, and he put down his fork. “Domain expansion. Malevolent-“

“It’s a prank!” You shout as you spin to look at Sukuna quickly. Your son is standing behind you, quite literally trembling in fear.

“Yeah- it’s a p-prank, dad.” Ryu stutters out.

Sukuna narrows his gaze, and he looks between the two of you. “Foolish.” He grunts. “Boy, come have a seat.” He commands, and your son reluctantly complies.

“If you ever pull some shit like that seriously, I’m not afraid to start over and make a new kid. I got nothing but time on my hands.” Your husband says while eyeing your son.

“Ryu’s a good kid, Kuna.” You assure him as you walk over to your husband and rub on his shoulders a bit.

“Mmm, for now.” He mumbles, and he nods his head to the trashcan. “Take the trash out.”

NANAMI

Your husband was sitting in the living room, enjoying his “lazy Sunday” as he called it. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. He couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful for the life he was living right now.

He had everything he ever dreamed of: a stable job, an amazing wife, a small family in a loving home.

You were sitting next to him, casually rubbing on his thigh through his pajama pants. You and your daughter had been texting about playing a prank on your dear husband, and it was finally going to happen.

“Hana, did you fold the clothes like I told you to?” You call out to your daughter as she’s in her bedroom. Nanami turns a page in his book, still not paying too much attention.

“Mom, I’m doing something!” Your daughter yells back.

“Hana, get in here and fold those clothes!” You shout back, getting a bit more serious. Nanami lets out a small sigh as he places his mug on the coffee table. He’s normally quick to nip Hana’s attitude in the bud.

“I’m busy!”

“Hana!”

“Okay mom! Just shut up already!” She finally yells as she storms into the living room. Nanami shuts his book and immediately stares down your daughter.

“What did you just say?” He asks as he sits up from his cozy position. His jaw tightens a bit as he glares at Hana.

“I just told her to shut up. She’s being overdramatic.” Your daughter continues, playing her part perfectly.

“Who’s her? Your mother? You’re telling my wife to shut up?” Nanami says as he starts to stand up.

“It’s just a prank, Ken!”

“Dad, it’s a prank-!”

You and your daughter both shout nervously, and Nanami looks at both of you confused for a moment. It then clicks in his head. “God, don’t stress me out like that.” He chides as he relaxes back on the couch. He wraps his arm back around you and picks up his book again.

[rafey-baby]

What would sensitive!reader do without older!rafe protecting her from the invisible monsters in their home?

c/w: mostly fluff, her being scared & rafe comforting her while also being a menace, teeny tiny bit of angst regarding their age-gap, use of daddy (once)

wc: 1.7k

unfortunately won't be watching a single scary movie this halloween cause she's literally me but happy kinktober & spooky season xx

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

She’s not exactly sure why she agreed to watch the new horror film Rafe’s friends wanted to see at a Halloween themed gathering he’d dragged her into. She wasn’t even the biggest fan of his friends, which is why she didn’t want to go in the first place.

However, when he’d mumbled a honeyed “It’s no fun without you and don’t wanna leave my girl alone on Halloween” into her hair, she’d reluctantly agreed; not one to refuse him of anything when he looked at her with that specific softened blue coloring his eyes.

And there was also the prospect of making him happy that finally made her melt into his wishes.

And she wanted to like his friends, she really did. But it wasn’t exactly easy when they kept bragging about their accomplishments and how much money they had every opportunity they found in such an arrogant tone, it made her roll her eyes when they weren’t looking.  

Luckily, she could at least converse with their partners who were always fun company to sip wine with and giggle about anything and everything. And along with the warmth of Rafe’s gaze flickering over to her every once in a while, as he talked with his friends and coworkers, she was actually beginning to enjoy herself. 

Up until the point when someone suggested they watch a movie. 

“You sure you wanna watch this? S’okay if you wanna go home, could come up with something else to keep us entertained…” Rafe had murmured into her ear with his arms around her on the couch the whole group had settled down on.

He knew how paranoid she could get; how easily she’d turn into a scaredy cat who once couldn’t sleep alone for a month after sitting through an entire scary movie in the cinema.  

And she truly doesn’t know why she didn’t just tell him she wanted to leave when the film started playing on the big screen of Topper’s television. She was going to, but when her eyes flitted over to him bringing a glass of whiskey to his lips in a carefree manner; she didn’t have the heart to ruin his fun because he seemed to be enjoying himself. After all, it wasn’t often he let himself relax due to his hectic work schedule packed with tedious meetings and whatnot.  

And on top of that, she’s already self-conscious over the age-gap between her and Rafe; sometimes gets a headache over the notion of him meeting someone more mature one dreadful day and deciding he doesn’t want to play house with her any longer.

After all, his friends were all getting engaged left and right, while she still holds the title of being his girlfriend. And even if she isn’t sure she’d be ready for marriage quite yet, she’s still slightly upset that he’s never even so much as mentioned the matter. 

And she's not sure if it's because she's younger than him and he assumes she doesn't want a ring on her finger too soon or if he simply just doesn't want to make things too definitive with her.

Nonetheless, it's something she's been thoroughly overthinking and mulling over recently, even if she knows it doesn't benefit her in any shape or form. Apparently, her mind just likes to always have some topic to ruminate over and obsessively worry about, or else it'll have too much free time.

Therefore, she can admit that she didn’t want to appear as a big baby who couldn’t stomach anything even remotely scary (she really couldn’t). And was it such a crime to not want to make a scene in front of all his friends? 

That’s why she ends up meekly nodding her head and assuring him she was fine — which he didn’t entirely believe — but smiled nonetheless at the fact that she was willing to get out of her comfort zone for his sake, before pulling her closer to his side.  

However, when the white letters of the end credits finally rolled after a few gruesome and eerie hours later, she was anything but fine. 

Her weakened frame is trembling and she’s entirely too jumpy even after they’ve said their goodbyes and stepped past the threshold into the safe haven of their home.  

“Told you we should’ve just left,” he tuts at her when she flinches at the October wind rustling the autumnal foliage outside the window.  

“Rafe, what was that?” She squeaks out when she hears another sound coming from outside — presumably their neighbor — however, there’s always the possibility of it being a serial killer simply waiting for the right moment to pounce.  

“What was what?” He huffs out a chuckle in amusement, causing her to pout.  

“This isn’t funny. I’m scared,” she whines, heart beating faster than ever along with her breathing unsteady.

“I know you are. Shit, forgot why I don’t let you watch scary movies,” he shakes his head, padding over to the kitchen to fill up a glass of water; her feet immediately running after him.  

“Hey, hey. I’m right here, yeah?” He laughs tenderly when she practically glues herself to his big and comforting arm with how tightly she’s hugging it against her chest.  

“Promise you’re not gonna leave me alone?” She blinks up at him with her pupils dilated, nervous. 

“It’s past midnight. Of course, I’m not leaving, I’m exhausted. Let’s get ready for bed, yeah?” He suggests calmly, managing to placate her some with his appeasing presence. Although the spine-chilling scenes still play behind her eyelids with every blink. 

She follows him to the bathroom and he tries not to laugh when she insists on staying there even while he’s peeing.  

“Want me to check under the bed for monsters?” His sickly-sweet tone is a stark contrast to the annoying smirk plastered on his face when they pad over to their bedroom after brushing their teeth. 

“Ray…I’m being serious,” she scowls. 

“So am I?” He feigns confusion with a furrow of his brows. 

Before she has the chance to complain about him being mean, he’s already crouching down on the floor and poking his head under the bed into the darkness he’s braved himself to submerge into. And she’s far too curious not to peer down as well, however, she can’t really see a thing from behind his broad shoulders.  

Suddenly, he lets out a loud gasp — making her jump back and nearly trip on her feet — before his breathy giggle follows soon after. 

“That’s not funny,” she grumbles as exasperation drags her lips downwards. 

“I’m sorry, baby. You jus’ make it so easy,” he approaches her with an apologetic expression that doesn’t come off as all that empathetic when he’s fighting off an amused grin the entire time.  

“C’mere, yeah?” He coaxes her before tugging her into his strong arms; not letting go even when she tries to pull away since she’s still mad at him.  

“This one really got to you, huh?” He murmurs into her hair before beginning to soothingly rock back and forth when she finally halts her pursuits of escape.  

A faint hum is the only response she grants him.  

“Don’t remember you being this scared since we went to that haunted house with your friends last year, remember?” His warm chest rumbles in a pacifying manner in tandem with his words.  

“How could I forget,” she huffs out.  

“Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t wanna watch it? You know I wouldn’t have minded leaving,” he speaks softly.  

“I don’t know…just didn’t wanna seem like a baby in front of your friends,” she sniffles.  

“Since when do you care what they think? You hate them,” he argues with a lopsided smile when he releases his hold on her in order to unzip his jeans and change into something more comfortable for the night.  

“Hate is a strong word,” she defends herself as she pulls one of Rafe’s old t-shirts over her head and tries to focus on his familiar scent still lingering on the worn-out fabric instead of the imaginary monsters lurking behind the windows.  

“Is it?” He graces her with a lighthearted narrow of his eyes.  

“Fine. I don’t like them but they’re your friends, which means that I want them to like me,” she mumbles out.  

“Don’t really give a shit if they like you or not, which they obviously do. Think a little too much since you can’t help but be the sweetest angel even to the people you hate,” he grumbles out as he walks over to close the bedroom door.  

“And honestly, would much rather just stay with you than those pretentious idiots. Next time you wanna go home, just tell me. Don’t want you lying to me, okay?” He says with something sincere sparkling in the lagoons of his eyes.  

“Okay,” she promises when suddenly, he switches the lights off with a click, causing her muscles to tense.  

“Ray, why would you do that?” She sounds alarmed; inhales and exhales growing labored because the bedroom is now pitch black and there could be anything hiding in the murky corners of the room since she can’t even see herself.  

“Shh, calm down. I’ll protect you, yeah?” He croons, before he’s guiding her under the covers with a big hand on the small of her back; following shortly behind her and tugging her flush against his steady chest. 

“You’re safe with me. Daddy’s not gonna let anything happen to you, alright?” His saccharine murmurs reach her racing mind and offer it momentary rest on the soft petals of his tranquil voice.  

She hums against the skin of his neck as her eyes begin to slowly adjust to the darkness surrounding them; the dingy shadows crawling along the walls appearing less and less threatening by the second when she’s in the warmth of his protective embrace.  

“Want your stuffie?” He asks, knowing her all too well.  

“Mhm,” she nods against him before he’s reaching a hand behind the pillows because somehow her stuffed animal always manages to end up in the most peculiar of places. At this point though, he already knows where to look since he’s usually the one who has to locate it for her.

Nowadays, she doesn’t need it too often since she has Rafe volunteering to be her own personal teddy bear, but whenever he’s working past midnight, she likes to hold onto something that brings her comfort because she isn’t particularly fond of the idea of sleeping alone. 

He soon offers her the plushy lamb and she gives him a grateful smooch against his cheek along with a muffled ‘I love you’.  

And that night, he lulls her into dreamland with a warm palm resting on her tummy and his mellow breathing placating her distraught mind.

[thef1diary]

Podium Princess | LN + CS + CL

Summary: Lando lost a bet, which would have just temporarily damaged his ego, but the problem was that you were the prize that Charles and Carlos desired for one night.

masterlist taglist form

© thef1diary 2024. do not repost without permission

Warnings: 18+, mmmf, unprotected sex, three men for three holes 🤭, fingering, oral, anal, dp?, filthy as fuck, derogatory terms (kinda), praise, overstimulation, riding.

pairing: lando x fem!reader x carlos x charles

wc: 3.1k

Request: You should totally write a smut about lando sharing his girlfriend with Carlos and Charles after placing in the #australiangp

"You did what?" You asked your boyfriend, wondering if you misheard his words. "I made a bet," Lando responded, but this time with more assurance.

You sat down on the bed in your shared hotel room and asked, "what is it?" Patting the spot next to you, silently indicating Lando to sit down and begin explaining the bet. You've known from the years you've been dating that whenever he places a wager, he eventually loses, but you chose against mentioning it.

He hesitated for a moment but then decided to explain how he ended up in that situation.

The evening began when Lando noticed Carlos and Charles speaking after the qualifying session. He observed they had been spending a lot of time together recently, so Lando obviously had to approach them and disrupt their latest gossip session.

Putting the trio together, one would discover that they never run out of topics to discuss, which is how they found themselves sitting in a car in the parking lot outside their hotel. Carlos suggested that since they were all staying at the same hotel for the weekend, they might as well leave the track together.

However, during the car ride, there was a discussion that quickly brought out the competitive nature that each driver had developed at a young age. "What, you guys don't think I'll win?" Lando asked the Ferrari drivers, slightly offended. This particular topic of conversation started once they discussed the possible winners for the race tomorrow.

Based on the three practice sessions and qualifying, it could be argued that while they all had a fairly nice weekend so far, some were still more fortunate than others. As a result, the Spaniard shook his head, disagreeing with his friend, "mate, I'm starting second tomorrow, which clearly means I have a better chance of winning."

"I was first in fp1," Lando retaliated although they all knew that qualifying in a higher position meant more than topping a single practice session.

"You might have a good chance, but Max is on pole, let's not forget that," Charles reminded his fellow colleagues. Lando perked up at his words, "exactly, so all Carlos needs to do is somehow crash him out of the race so I can win."

Charles laughed at the outrageous plan, but Carlos scoffed, "I won't ruin my chances at a podium for a race you won't win." Noticing Lando's defeated expression, it caused Charles to laugh harder. "Not that I think either of you would win, but let's make a bet," the Monégasque suggested.

"Who do you think will win?" Carlos asked. Charles' dimple deepened as he smiled, "me of course."

This time Lando scoffed, "yeah, sure mate," then he looked at Carlos, "what do I get when I win the bet?"

"This," Carlos stated while holding up his middle finger towards him. Rolling his eyes, he decided, "fine, I'll ask for something when I win, and then you two won't be able to deny it."

"And what do we get if you don't win?" Carlos asked, looking at Charles who was waiting for an answer from Lando.

While Lando was focused on what he would ask for if he won the bet, he failed to consider that Carlos or Charles were more likely to win than him. He would have a one-in-three chance of winning the wager, but Lando hadn't realized the extent of the situation just yet.

"Not that it'll happen but what do you guys want?" He asked only as a formality to actually set the bet.

Carlos was quiet for a moment as he thought of something that would be worthwhile, looking at Charles to see if he had any ideas. Then he thought of it—of you. "Your girlfriend," he simply stated.

It took two seconds for Lando to start laughing, not that it was ever a challenge to do so, but he initially assumed that Carlos was joking. His laughter quickly died down once he didn't hear either driver laugh along with him.

Looking in the backseat at Charles briefly, who nodded in agreement, Lando snapped his head towards Carlos, "what do you mean my girlfriend?"

"It's simple. If Charles or I win, then you have to share your girlfriend for a night, if not, then you don't," he explained nonchalantly.

Lando looked at Charles, "and you agree with him?" He shrugged, then nodded, "she's hot, I wouldn't say no."

He slumped back in his seat, "I suppose you'll be disappointed when I win." While Lando was secure in his abilities, both drivers around him thought he was growing overconfident. "So you agree, that if you don't win, we can have her?"

Nodding it off and waving his hand around, Lando agreed, "yeah, you can."

You were stunned into silence once he finished explaining. Noticing your lack of words, Lando was unsure of your thoughts. "You don't think I'll win?"

You shrugged, "all I'm gonna say is that you have twenty-one other chances to win this season if you don't win this race." You didn't exactly answer his question, but he realized that you weren't opposed or disgusted by the idea either. Pulling you into his lap, he tilted your chin upwards with his fingers and leaned closer for a kiss.

He tightened his grasp on your chin to stop you before you could press your lips against his. "Oh I see, you don't want me to win just so you can be passed around like a slut between my friends?"

"You wouldn't have put me as the prize if you didn't like the idea," you retaliated, smirking as you moved his hand away to finally place your lips on his.

—

You stood among the crowd, cheering for Lando, who took his place on the third step of the podium. As the podium celebrations began, a part of you was also looking forward to the celebrations that would follow later tonight. Lando may have lost a bet, but it was the first bet you were glad he lost.

That is how you ended up in your hotel room with your lover, waiting in anticipation for the other two drivers to arrive. With his trophy set aside, you and Lando were occupied with each other; your eyes closed and head tilted back as he trailed kisses down your throat.

Then came a knock on the door, one that made your heart race in all the best ways. Lando stood up and opened the door, revealing Charles and Carlos standing on the other side, still dressed in their Ferrari polos from earlier that evening.

"What did he say? I suppose you'll be disappointed when I win," Charles greeted by mocking Lando's words from the day before. "Alright, alright I get it but I still placed third," he retaliated which earned a nod from Carlos. "Congrats, cabrón."

You could hear them laughing among themselves, but it quickly died down once Carlos and Charles spotted you. Lando had suggested that you should wear red, considering both of the drivers that placed first and second adored red.

There you sat on the mattress, leaning back on your forearms with an ankle crossed over the other, clad in only a tight short red dress which you were glad you ended up packing.

"Well, fuck me," Charles muttered under his breath earning a chuckle from you once you heard his comment. Standing up and slowly stepping towards them, you replied, "fuck me indeed."

Your gaze was fixated on Carlos, the race winner, whose eyes revealed a glimpse of all the dirty thoughts racing through his mind. "Congratulations, you both deserve a good celebration," you said, smiling as you felt Carlos' arm snaking around your waist and Charles' breath fanning your face.

"Is that what you're going to give us? A good celebration?" Charles asked, his lips grazing your cheek. "I'll give you anything you want."

You looked at your boyfriend for a second, making sure he was still comfortable with the situation before proceeding any further. But you just saw desire in his eyes and while the corner of his lip curled up in a lazy smirk, a nod from him allowed you to carry on. He may have nodded at you, but his eyes darted over your head to his fellow drivers, "Go on then, Carlos, Charles, claim your prize."

Your lips parted slightly, marvelling at the fact that Lando hadn't even addressed you, instead treating you like an object to be claimed. The worst part was realizing that you liked it since his remarks had made you clench your thighs together.

Carlos grinned at your obedient behaviour as he was easily able to tip your head back to face him. Now that they truly had the freedom to do anything they wanted to you, with your permission, neither felt bad for having sinful thoughts about you—their best friend's girlfriend—while Carlos and Charles were alone in their bedrooms.

Kissing you with a sense of urgency, Carlos stole your breath away in a matter of seconds. Your thoughts had quickly dissipated into thin air as you felt Charles trailing his fingers up your body while pressing up behind you.

You heard Lando shuffle around before leaving the three of you alone in the bedroom for a moment which only intensified your feelings. Sandwiched between the two men who are good friends of yours, were now looking at you as if you are merely an outlet for their sexual desires.

Sliding down the straps that held your dress up, Charles continued kissing every inch of your bare skin revealed to him. His hands rounded to your front, pulling down the flimsy piece of fabric to display your tits to the duo. Your nipples instantly pebbled as Charles' fingers brushed against them, making you tilt your head back and resting it against his shoulder.

Letting you regain your breath, Carlos moved down to your neck, replacing each kiss Lando had placed earlier with small nips and grazes of his teeth, just painful enough to still be pleasurable.

While both their mouths were occupied, the Spaniard's hands pushed down the rest of your dress to the floor, parting away for a moment to let you to step out of it and toss it to the side with your feet.

Lando returned to the room, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth to prevent a moan from leaving his mouth. You were now completely bare, with two fully clothed drivers—his friends—pressed against you while their hands roamed all over your body.

Discarding his shirt on the floor, he occupied your mouth with another kiss, muffling your moans. "Fuck, enjoying yourself, baby?" Lando muttered once you parted away for a moment. Nodding, you opened your mouth to respond but a sharp gasp left your mouth as you felt Charles' fingers teasing your clit while Carlos palmed your ass.

"Merde, she's so perfect," the Monégasque commented, spreading your pussy with two fingers while a third finger swiped through your folds to catch the wetness that gathered between. "Charles," you breathlessly whispered, a plead for more.

"So ready to be ruined," Carlos added, his own fingers prodding your ass, earning a string of curses along with pleas to keep going from you. Gathering your slick from your cunt, Carlos coated his fingers to ease just the tip of one finger into your ass.

Soon enough, you were laid down on the bed, and one by one the three men stripped their clothes away, adding to the ever growing pile that started from your dress. You could barely keep your eyes open due to the feeling of three pairs of hands roaming everywhere, not leaving any inch of your skin untouched.

You had already orgasmed twice, but you couldn't remember whose fingers brought you over the edge the first, or even the second time, as all of the sensations mushed together in what felt like one never ending wet dream.

Staying true to your words of giving them anything they desired, you moaned around Carlos' cock as Charles slid his dick in your pussy without any forewarning. Your grasp on his thighs tightened as Charles began to thrust, slowly at first but then showed no mercy once his grasp on your hips tightened.

Carlos pulled your mouth off his cock, but quickly replaced the emptiness you immediately felt with two of his fingers resting heavily on your tongue. His actions didn't allow you to close your jaw, causing you to drool down your chin, and only then he was satisfied.

"Such a good fucking girl," he commented, which only made your head spin further while you smiled at the compliment. "Oh she likes that," Charles added as he felt your pussy clench around him at Carlos' praise.

His fingers that were now coated with your saliva trailed down your body to where you and Charles were connected. He nodded mockingly at his teammate's comment, "yeah, you like being praised?"

Easily finding your swollen clit, he slightly pinched it before creating small circles, edging you closer. You nodded, "please, please, please." You were sobbing for relief, your voice strained from the constant cries that left your lips with each new wave of ecstasy.

Connecting their gaze, Charles and Carlos smirked as they silently agreed to let you cum once again. Charles's fingers slid closer to your back hole, this time able to slide two fingers down to the last knuckle. At the same time, Carlos' fingers left your clit only to join the thrusts of Charles' cock, scissoring two of his fingers in your pussy to stretch you out even further. Pleasure surged through your body, and you closed your eyes tightly at the sudden sensation of being so full.

Charles slowed down his thrusts, prolonging your post orgasmic sensation. You slumped forwards when he pulled out, still holding back his own release for now.

Despite still being eager, they were ever patient with you especially after bringing you over the edge multiple times now, knowing your limbs were close to tiring out.

Still on your hands and knees, you shuffled up to straddle Carlos, sinking down on down cock this time, mouth dropping open as he stretched you out slightly differently compared to Charles.

"C'mon, cariño, ride me," he instructed, resting his hands on your hips, urging your movements while also allowing you to depend on him for help. "You feel so good, Carlos," you panted.

You heard some shuffling around you again but you couldn't move your gaze away from watching your pussy engulf Carlos' cock over and over again.

However, you were startled once you felt a cool sensation prodding your ass; Charles' fingers coated in lube. "Need you to relax, baby," you could hear Lando's words and he was quick to come into your view, stroking his dick to the sight of you filled by his former teammate.

He grabbed your hand off of Carlos' shoulder, guiding it towards his cock. Already slick with his precum, you could easily move your hand up and down, watching his reaction with hooded eyes.

Charles' free hand wrapped around your throat from behind while he whispered in your ear, "we're gonna fill up all of your holes, darling."

Groaning, you nodded, "please," a word that you had repeatedly spoken to the point where it sounded like a broken record. "You want that?" One of them asked, but you couldn't focus on whose voice it was. "Fill me up, please," your words turning into a moan as Carlos shifted underneath you, reaching deeper inside.

Releasing the grasp on your throat, Charles focused on opening you up with his fingers, for you to be able to take his cock in your ass while Carlos continued pounding your pussy.

Lando replaced Charles' hand, grabbing the back of your neck, threading his fingers in your hair to bring you close for a filthy kiss. Tongues and teeth clashing, he slightly bit down on your bottom lip, sucking and pulling on it for a moment before letting go.

Without any words exchanged, your boyfriend guided your mouth towards his cock, filling up two out of three of your holes. It took you a moment before you actually started moving your head up and down, moaning and drooling on his cock because of Carlos' upward thrusts.

Charles removed his fingers, having deemed to have stretched you out enough then coating his dick with a good amount of lube. With one hand palming and spreading your ass, he used the other to guide his cock into you. Your eyes welled up with tears, not entirely painful but almost overwhelmed with being filled everywhere at once.

Your body was quickly calmed down by Lando, Charles, and Carlos as they moved their hands all over you in soothing motions. Charles began thrusting when you nodded because you were unable to speak while Lando's dick was in your mouth.

Your muffled groans sounded distant to you, mind foggy, but you had never felt so full and aware before.

With a warning, Lando filled your mouth with cum, which you swallowed greedily without hesitation. Now, with your mouth unoccupied, you couldn't hold back on your moans. "Gonna cum," you warned, knowing you won't last long, still sensitive from your previous orgasms.

Charles' fingers reached your chest, teasing and pinching your nipples while Carlos rested his palms on your cheeks, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

Your pace stuttered as you came around his cock, and Carlos took the reins and thrusted upwards, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. "Fuck, where do you want us?" Charles asked, tethering on the edge and based on Carlos' stuttering pace, you knew he was too.

Your next words pushed both over the edge, "inside." Slumping forwards, you felt both Ferrari drivers filling you up with their cum. "Fucking hell, that was hot," Lando commented, leaning closer to brush away the strands of hair stuck on your forehead due to sweat.

Charles and Carlos carefully eased you off their cocks, with Lando helping you lie down on the bed which you immediately melted into.

It was unbearable for you to be completely empty after being entirely filled. Mustering up all your strength, you held your arms out for your boyfriend, who immediately joined you on the bed, whispering praises in your ear.

Meanwhile, Carlos and Charles decided to clean you up by wiping the cum that had leaked out of your holes with a damp towel. They saw the bruises from their grasps on you in the heat of the moment and couldn't help but smile, knowing they were the cause of it.

You hoped, as you drifted off to sleep, that the three of them would share the podium more frequently, and therefore, share you as well.

Taglist based on the form (let me know if you would like to be removed) @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @evlkking @jointhehunt67 @wonnou @nikfigueiredo

[starsenha]

HALLOWEEN NIGHT / L.H

Pairing ◊ sub!fem!reader x harddom!heeseung

Genre ◊ SMUT, established relationship

Warnings ◊ SMUT (minors dni), kinda roleplay, chocking, lots of cursing, degradation, fingering, lots and lots of dirty talk, bigdick!hee, orgasm denial, unprotected sex (wrap it up people), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, against a wall

Word count ◊ 5,2k

Summary ◊ it was halloween and you decided to stay home with your boyfriend. you thought it would be a quiet movie night, until you were talking and you told him serial killers kinda turn you on.

a/n: 😀😀 hee has me on a chokehold recently sooooooo, enjoy!

It was a chilly Halloween night, and you and your boyfriend Heeseung had decided to spend it in the cozy warmth of your apartment. While the rest of the world was out attending costume parties, trick-or-treating, or watching horror movies, you both opted for a more intimate and relaxed night in. Candles flickered around the living room, and the scent of pumpkin-spice lattes hung in the air. The windows were cracked open just enough to let the cool breeze sneak in, adding to the autumnal ambiance. You sat across from each other on the couch, your legs curled under a thick blanket as you sipped on wine, engaged in casual conversation. 

But tonight, the conversation had taken an unexpected turn.

You had always been open with Heeseung, never hiding your thoughts or desires. Tonight was no exception. As the topic wandered from one thing to another, you finally admitted something you’d kept buried for a while. 

“I’ve always been… kind of into serial killers,” you said, your voice low but steady, your gaze meeting his as if daring him to be shocked. “I know it sounds crazy, but there's just something about it, something thrilling. Dangerous.”

Heeseung’s brows shot up in surprise. He wasn’t naive about your personality — you had always shown him you were more than the "good girl" everyone assumed you were on campus. He loved that side of you, the one that craved excitement and darkness. But this? This was new. He leaned back slightly, his lips curling into an amused grin.

“Oh?” he said, his voice deepening with curiosity. “Serial killers, huh?”

You nodded, biting your lip, feeling a little heat rise to your cheeks. But you didn’t feel embarrassed. Not with him. “I find it… hot. Sexy, even. Knives, the thrill of being hunted. It just does something to me.”

Heeseung blinked, clearly processing what you had just said, but there was no judgment in his eyes. If anything, his expression only became more intrigued. He let out a short laugh, shaking his head slightly. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

“I know,” you said, your lips curling into a playful smirk. “Does it freak you out?”

He chuckled again, shaking his head. “Not at all. I mean, I always knew you had a wild side, but damn.”

He scooted closer to you on the couch, the blanket shifting as he moved. There was something darker, more intense in his eyes now. As if a switch had flipped. You could feel the shift in the atmosphere, your heart pounding a little harder as his fingers grazed your thigh.

Then he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, his voice lowering to a near-whisper. “What if I were a killer, and you were my next victim? What would you do?”

The question sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t just his words but the way he said them — his tone dripping with menace, yet still teasing. The line between playful and dangerous blurred instantly, your mind spinning as your pulse quickened. You swallowed, your voice trembling with excitement.

“I-I guess I’d run,” you said, almost breathless.

Heeseung smirked, his eyes flashing with something darker. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, holding it just tight enough to make you feel the tension. “You’d run? Good. I’d chase you. And when I catch you, I’d make sure you knew just how much trouble you’re in.”

Your breath hitched. You were entirely caught up in the moment, the shift in energy sending a thrill through your body. He was so good at this, so convincing. It was like his entire demeanor had transformed. The Heeseung you knew, the sweet, playful boyfriend, had vanished — replaced by someone darker. Someone dangerous.

“Run,” he whispered, his voice a low growl. His grip on your wrist loosened just enough for you to slip free. 

You didn’t think twice. You bolted off the couch, your heart pounding in your chest as you darted towards the hallway. It felt ridiculous, but at the same time, thrilling. Your legs carried you down the hallway, past the bathroom, towards the bedroom. You could hear his footsteps behind you, slow and deliberate, but menacing in a way that sent a jolt of excitement through you. You knew he wasn’t rushing after you — he was savoring the chase, playing the part.

You ducked into the bedroom, your breath coming in quick bursts, your pulse racing. The thrill of being hunted made your body tingle with excitement. You quickly hid behind the door, pressing your back against the wall, trying to control your breathing. Your mind raced as you listened for his footsteps.

The apartment was eerily quiet, save for the faint creak of the floorboards as Heeseung moved closer. You could almost hear your own heartbeat in your ears, a mixture of fear and anticipation.

Then, his voice broke through the silence.

“Where are you hiding, baby?” Heeseung called out, his voice calm but with a sinister edge that made your skin prickle. “I’ll find you. And when I do, you’re mine.”

You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from making a noise. Every part of you was buzzing with a mixture of fear and arousal. He was so good at this, it was almost terrifying.

Then, you heard the bedroom door creak open. You held your breath, pressing yourself further against the wall. Heeseung stepped into the room, and you could feel his presence, his calm but dangerous energy filling the space. He was close now, so close.

Suddenly, you heard the unmistakable sound of something metal scraping along the doorframe. You peeked out from your hiding spot and saw him holding a knife — not real, but the fake one he’d used for his Halloween costume last year. It glinted in the dim light of the room, and the sight of it sent a shiver down your spine. You knew it wasn’t real, but the image of him holding it was enough to make your heart race even faster.

“I know you’re in here,” Heeseung said, his voice dark and smooth. “You can’t hide from me forever.”

You couldn’t help it — a small whimper escaped your lips. Heeseung’s head snapped in your direction, his eyes locking onto you in an instant. 

“There you are,” he purred, his voice sending another thrill through you.

You bolted from your hiding spot, trying to make a dash for the door, but Heeseung was faster. He grabbed you, pinning you against the wall in one swift, practiced motion. His body pressed against yours, and you could feel the heat radiating off him. The knife was pressed lightly against your throat — not enough to hurt, but just enough to send your pulse skyrocketing.

“You didn’t run fast enough, baby,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “Now you’re mine.”

Your breath came in ragged gasps, your heart pounding against your chest. The fear, the thrill of it all, had you completely entranced. You looked up at him, meeting his gaze. His eyes were dark, intense, filled with a mixture of amusement and something far more dangerous.

"Look at you," Heeseung growled, his voice low and dripping with amusement. “All worked up because you like dangerous shit, huh?”

You tried to respond, but his grip on your face tightened, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to keep you still. Your heart pounded in your chest, the mixture of fear and arousal overwhelming every sense.

“Fuck,” he scoffed, his lips curling into a wicked grin. “I didn’t know you were this filthy, baby. Liking knives and serial killers? You’re even freakier than I thought.”

Your breath hitched as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, sending a wave of heat through your body. “What’s wrong with you?” he mocked, his voice dark and teasing. “Huh? Does this shit really get you wet?”

Heeseung’s free hand trailed down your body, fingers ghosting over the curves of your waist, deliberately slow, teasing. His touch was rough, your skin tingled under his fingers, the anticipation driving you insane.

“You’re sick,” he continued, his voice thick. “Getting off on being hunted like some prey. Do you even realize how fucked up that is?”

You whimpered, the tension in the air building to an almost unbearable level. He smirked, clearly enjoying the way you responded to his words. His hand finally settled on your throat, not squeezing too hard, but enough to remind you that he had all the power in this moment.

“What’s that, baby?” he cooed mockingly. “Cat got your tongue? Or are you too busy dripping over the thought of me fucking you like the dirty little slut you are?”

Your body trembled under his grip, the combination of his degrading words and the roughness of his touch sending a wave of heat straight to your pussy. Heeseung’s smirk only deepened when he saw the effect he was having on you. 

“Yeah,” he growled, his breath hot against your skin. “You fucking like this, don’t you?”

He chuckled darkly, his hand still gripping your throat as he leaned back slightly, his eyes scanning your body as if you were something he owned, something he could play with however he wanted.

“I should’ve known,” he sneered. “That ‘good girl’ act on campus? Total fucking bullshit. I bet no one knows how much of a dirty little freak you really are. Getting wet for knives and killers. How fucked up is that, baby?”

You tried to speak, but Heeseung’s grip on your throat tightened just enough to cut off any response. His eyes darkened, and he leaned in again, his lips brushing against your jaw as he spoke.

“Tell me,” he hissed. “What else gets you off? Huh? Is it the thought of me chasing you down, pinning you to the ground, making you beg for me to stop?”

Heeseung's words sent a jolt of electricity through your body, and you couldn’t help but whimper, the sound escaping your lips before you could stop it. He chuckled, low and dangerous.

“Fucking pathetic,” he mocked, shaking his head. “I barely even touched you, and you’re already whining like a little bitch.”

Heeseung’s hand finally left your throat, but before you could even process the loss of his grip, he grabbed your waist roughly, spinning you around and shoving you against the wall. The impact sent a thrill through you, your cheek pressing against the cool surface as his body pressed into yours from behind. His hands roamed over your body, possessive and rough, his touch almost punishing.

“Bet you’d love that,” he continued, his breath hot against the back of your neck. “Me hunting you down like some fucking animal. Catching you and making you scream my name. You’d probably fucking love it if I tied you up, left you helpless, wouldn’t you?”

You gasped as his hand slid between your legs, the roughness of his touch sending a shockwave through you. His fingers ghosted over your panties, accessible because of the skirt you were wearing.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned, his fingers brushing against the heat of your pussy. “Fuck, you really are a dirty little slut, aren’t you?”

You whimpered again, the sound desperate and needy. But Heeseung wasn’t having it. He pulled his hand away abruptly, making you gasp in frustration. You tried to push back against him, but he quickly grabbed your wrists, pinning them behind you and against your back.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he mocked, his voice a low growl. “You don’t get to fucking move until I say so.”

You bit your lip, your body trembling with need. Heeseung chuckled darkly again, clearly enjoying the power he held over you.

“Look at you,” he growled, his voice laced with amusement. “Begging for me without even saying a word. You’re so fucking desperate. Is this what you wanted, baby? For me to treat you like the filthy little whore you are?”

“Yeah,” you finally managed to choke out, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Please…”

“Please, what?” he mocked, his grip on your wrists tightening. “Use your fucking words.”

“Please, hee, just… fuck me,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible.

He let out a dark laugh, leaning in so close that his lips brushed your ear again. “Oh, I’ll fuck you, baby. But you’re gonna have to fucking beg for it. Beg me to fuck you like the little slut you are.”

Your mind was spinning, every nerve in your body on fire. The way he talked to you — it was everything you’d ever fantasized about and more. You needed him, desperately, and the thought of him making you beg only made you want it more.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Please, hee. Fuck me. I need it. I need you.”

He smirked, clearly satisfied with your response. “That’s more like it,” he growled. “But remember, baby. I’m in fucking control here. And you’re going to take everything I give you.” 

Heeseung released your wrists, but before you could even catch your breath, he grabbed your hips roughly, positioning you exactly how he wanted. His fingers dug into your skin, his touch harsh and demanding. You could feel the heat of his body pressing against yours, and the anticipation was almost unbearable. He made you arch your back, your hips and meeting his.

“Now,” he growled, his voice dark and filled with promise. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll remember exactly who owns you.”

He leaned forward, his chest pressed against your back, his lips grazing your ear, and you could feel the raw power radiating off him in waves. You could feel his hard cock against your ass. You whimpered, your body trembling with anticipation. He dragged one of his hands up your side, rough and deliberate, before his fingers slipped between your legs again, teasing your slick heat.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice laced with amusement. “You’re soaking. All this just from me talking dirty to you?”

You could barely form words, your body so worked up from the tension he’d been building with every degrading word. You pushed back against him, desperate for more, but he wasn’t having it. He grabbed your hips again, roughly holding you in place, preventing you from moving.

“Ah, not so fast,” he mocked, a dark laugh escaping his lips. “You’re not ready yet, baby. I’m not about to just fuck you like this without prepping you, or I'll hurt you."

You let out a small, needy whimper, your head spinning. Your breath hitched as his words sunk in, your body trembling even more under his touch. Heeseung wasted no time, sliding his fingers through your slick folds, spreading your arousal as he circled your clit with rough, teasing strokes. You moaned, your body arching involuntarily as the pleasure started to build.

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” he groaned, his voice dark and rough with lust. “You’re practically begging for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Please, Hee… I need you.”

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. “You’re gonna get me, baby. Every fucking inch. But I want you to be ready.”

Without warning, he slid one finger inside you, slow and deliberate, making you moan softly at the sudden intrusion. He was teasing you, taking his time as he pumped his finger in and out, the slickness of your arousal making it easy for him to push deeper. Your body responded instantly, hips rocking against his hand, desperate for more.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, clearly enjoying the way you clenched around him. “I’m gonna have to stretch you out real good if you’re gonna take my cock.”

Your pulse quickened at his words, the anticipation making your body tingle with need. Heeseung added another finger, the sensation sending a wave of heat through you as he began thrusting them in and out, faster this time, his touch rough and demanding. You moaned louder, your body reacting to every movement, every thrust of his fingers.

“That’s it,” he growled, his voice filled with dark satisfaction. “Take it, baby. You can handle this, can’t you?”

You nodded frantically, unable to form words as the pleasure built inside you, your body practically trembling under his dominance. His fingers moved faster, rougher, hitting all the right spots, and you could feel the tension in your core starting to coil tighter and tighter. He was prepping you, but he was also pushing you closer to the edge.

“You like that?” Heeseung mocked, his lips brushing against your ear again. “Being fucked by my fingers? I bet you’re imagining how good my cock’s gonna feel inside you, aren’t you?”

“Yes, f-fuck” you moaned, your voice shaky, desperate. “I want it. I want you.”

He let out a dark chuckle, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that spot that made your legs weak. You gasped, your body jerking at the sensation, and Heeseung’s grip on your hips tightened as he held you in place.

“I know you do, baby,” he growled. “But you need to be patient. I’m gonna stretch you out until you’re begging for my cock. And when I finally give it to you, I’m not gonna hold back. You’ll be fucking screaming my name.”

You whimpered, the mixture of pleasure and anticipation becoming almost unbearable. Heeseung added a third finger, the stretch sending a sharp thrill through your body as he worked you open, thrusting his fingers in and out of you with rough, relentless precision. You moaned louder, your body trembling as the pleasure built higher and higher, and Heeseung’s lips curled into a wicked grin at the sound.

“Fuck, you’re such a little slut,” he sneered, his voice dripping with amusement. “Getting off on my fingers like this. I can feel how close you are. But you’re not coming yet. Not until my cock’s inside you.”

His words sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge, your body desperate for release. But Heeseung wasn’t giving you any mercy. He pulled his fingers out of you abruptly, making you gasp in frustration, your body aching from the sudden loss of sensation.

“Not yet,” he growled, his voice filled with dark promise. “You don’t get to come until I’m buried deep, deep, inside you.”

You whimpered, your body trembling with need, and Heeseung chuckled darkly at your desperation. He shifted behind you, positioning himself so that you could feel the hard length of him pressing against your entrance, the sensation making your heart race. He was big — and even after a year, it still surprised you every time.

Heeseung gripped your hips tightly, pulling you back against him as he lined himself up with your entrance. He pushed just the tip in, slow and teasing, the stretch making you gasp. He held himself there for a moment, his breath hot against your neck, and you could feel every inch of him as he pressed against your slick heat.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, his voice rough with lust. “You’re gonna take all of me, baby. Every fucking inch.”

You moaned softly, your body trembling as he began to push deeper, the sensation of him stretching you open making your legs weak. He moved slowly at first, letting you feel every inch of him as he sank into you, inch by inch, the stretch almost overwhelming.

“God, you’re squeezing me so fucking tight,” he growled, his voice thick with need. “I can feel how desperate you are. You’re practically choking my cock, baby.”

You whimpered, your body trembling as he finally buried himself fully inside you, the feeling of him filling you completely making your head spin. He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, his grip on your hips tight and possessive.

Then, without warning, he pulled out halfway and slammed back into you with a rough, brutal thrust. You moaned loudly, the sudden impact sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body, and Heeseung chuckled darkly at your reaction.

“Yeah, you fucking like that, don’t you?” he growled, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You like being fucked rough. You like it when I own you like this.”

You could barely respond, your body trembling with pleasure as he began to fuck you with hard, relentless thrusts, each one driving deeper inside you. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, and Heeseung’s voice was dark and rough as he degraded you with every word.

“Take it,” he growled. “Take every fucking inch of me. You’re mine. My filthy little slut.”

You moaned loudly, your body trembling under the force of his thrusts, and Heeseung’s grip on your hips tightened as he pounded into you, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “You feel so fucking good, baby. So fucking tight. I’m gonna make you come all over my cock.”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through your body, and you could feel the tension in your core building rapidly, the pleasure overwhelming every sense.

Heeseung’s pace was relentless, his rough, powerful thrusts leaving you breathless and trembling. The sensation of him deep inside you, filling you completely, was overwhelming. Your mind spun, barely able to process the intensity of it all. The room seemed to blur around you, the only thing grounding you being the feel of Heeseung’s strong hands gripping your hips, the sound of his ragged breath against your ear, and the harsh slap of his body against yours.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he growled, his voice deep and rough with lust. “Tight, warm, squeezing me like you never want me to stop.”

He drove into you harder, faster, each thrust shaking your entire body, and you were already teetering on the edge. The overwhelming pleasure coiled tight in your core, the knot growing tighter with each second as he pounded into you, not giving you a moment to breathe.

“I can feel you getting close,” he sneered, leaning in close to your ear. “You’re already about to come, aren’t you? I can feel how fucking desperate you are.”

You tried to respond, but the only sound that escaped your lips was a helpless moan. You were trembling, your body barely able to handle the intensity of his movements. You felt like you were going to explode, your entire body burning with pleasure as you clenched around him, trying to hold onto the last threads of control.

“Go on,” Heeseung growled, his voice dark and filled with amusement. “Come for me, baby. I want to feel you lose it.”

His words sent you over the edge. With a desperate moan, you came hard, your body shaking uncontrollably as the pleasure ripped through you, wave after wave. Your legs buckled beneath you, and Heeseung’s grip on your hips tightened as he held you up, his pace never faltering. The way he kept driving into you, even as you pulsed around him, made your orgasm last longer, dragging you into a state of blissful helplessness.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Heeseung groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re fucking perfect when you come. Look at you, barely able to stand. So fucking ruined for me.”

Your breath came in ragged gasps, and you thought he might slow down, give you a moment to recover. But Heeseung had no intention of letting you rest. Instead, he pulled out for just a second, flipping you around so that you were now facing him. Before you could even catch your breath, he pushed you up against the wall again, lifting one of your legs and hooking it around his waist. With one rough thrust, he buried himself deep inside you once more, the sudden sensation making you cry out.

He started fucking you again, even rougher this time, each thrust harder and more intense than the last. You were still sensitive from your first orgasm, and the overstimulation made your head spin. Your body was already trembling, barely able to keep up with the way he was taking you. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus on anything except the overwhelming pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his voice low and rough. “You’re squeezing me so fucking hard, baby. I know you’re close again. I can feel it.”

You moaned, your head falling back against the wall, your body shaking as the pleasure built again, faster this time. You couldn’t control it, couldn’t stop yourself from spiraling towards another orgasm, and Heeseung knew it. He smirked, his hands gripping your hips harder as he increased the intensity of his thrusts, driving deeper into you with every movement.

“Come for me again,” he growled, his voice dark and commanding. “Come on, baby, I know you want to. I want to feel you fall apart for me.”

You couldn’t hold back. With a desperate cry, you came again, your body trembling uncontrollably as the pleasure crashed over you, even stronger than the first time. Your mind went blank, the sensation overwhelming every sense, your body completely at Heeseung’s mercy.

“That’s it,” Heeseung groaned, his voice filled with satisfaction as he felt you pulsing around him. “Fuck, you’re so good for me. Coming like that again and again. You love it, don’t you?”

You were too far gone to answer, your body shaking as the aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through you. But Heeseung didn’t slow down. He kept fucking you, his thrusts hard and relentless, pushing you further and further into a haze of pleasure. Your mind couldn’t keep up, the overstimulation making your body twitch with every thrust, your moans becoming more desperate, more breathless.

“You’re mine,” Heeseung growled, his voice dripping with dominance. “You’re fucking mine, and I’m not stopping until I get every last fucking drop out of you.”

You whimpered, your body trembling uncontrollably as the pleasure built again. You didn’t think it was possible, but Heeseung was driving you towards another orgasm, your body responding to him even though you were already completely spent. The overstimulation was almost too much, your mind spinning as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge again.

“Look at you,” he sneered, his voice filled with dark amusement. “You can barely fucking stand, and you’re still so desperate for more. You really are a little slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasped, barely able to form words as your body trembled under his relentless pace. “I’m yours… Heeseung, please…”

“Fuck, that’s right,” he growled, his voice low and rough. “You’re fucking mine.”

With one last hard thrust, he drove you over the edge again, your body convulsing as another orgasm tore through you. This one was different — it was so intense, so overwhelming, that you couldn’t even think. Your vision blurred, your body shaking uncontrollably as the pleasure consumed you entirely. You could barely breathe, your mind completely blank as you fell apart for him.

Heeseung groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he kept fucking you through your orgasm, his own breath ragged and uneven. “Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he growled, his voice thick with need. “You’re fucking perfect when you come for me like that.”

You could barely keep your eyes open, your body trembling and weak, but Heeseung wasn’t done with you yet. He didn’t stop, didn’t give you a moment to recover. His thrusts were still as hard and rough as ever, pushing you further and further into a haze of pleasure and overstimulation. You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, your body completely at his mercy as he took everything from you.

“Tell me,” Heeseung growled, his voice low and commanding. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” you gasped, barely able to form the words. “I belong to you.”

Heeseung smirked, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Damn right you do,” he growled. “And I’m not stopping until you’ve come so many times you can’t fucking think straight.”

He wasn’t lying. You lost track of how many times he made you come after that. Each orgasm blurred into the next, the pleasure overwhelming every sense until your mind was nothing but a haze of need and desire. You were shaking, trembling, barely able to form coherent thoughts, but Heeseung didn’t stop. He kept pushing you, kept driving you towards the edge over and over again, his voice dark and commanding in your ear.

By the time he finally let you collapse, you were completely spent, your body trembling and weak. You could barely think, your mind still spinning from the intensity of everything he’d done to you. But as Heeseung pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest, you couldn’t help but feel completely satisfied, completely owned by him.

“You did so good, baby,” Heeseung whispered softly, his voice filled with affection now that the storm had passed. “So fucking good for me.”

You barely had the energy to respond, but you smiled, feeling safe and content in his arms.

[pucksandpower]

Bleached

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles’ beard has been looking a bit ginger-ish lately … what better place to talk about it than on a podcast?

Warnings: allusion to 18+ themes

“Okay, I have to ask,” the podcaster leans forward, elbows resting on the small round table between them, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. His voice is friendly, but there’s that unmistakable gleam in his eye that says he’s about to drop something that’ll make the interview go viral. “There’s been some ... speculation. About your, uh, change in appearance recently.”

Charles shifts in his seat, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. He’s relaxed, casual in a gray hoodie and jeans, but there’s a slight tension in the way he holds himself, like he’s been waiting for this question to come up. “Speculation? About what?” His tone is playful, teasing almost, though he knows exactly where this is going.

The podcaster chuckles, scratching his beard as he gathers the right words. “Well, I mean … the ginger beard thing. I’ve had a lot of listeners ask about it. A lot of comments, too. They’re all curious. You know, Charles, your beard’s been, uh, dark for as long as we’ve known you, and now …” he gestures towards Charles’ face, where the once dark brown stubble has turned into a mix of auburn and light copper. It’s subtle, but definitely noticeable. “What’s going on there?”

Charles laughs, but there’s a hint of sheepishness in it. He rubs his jaw, as if the act itself will somehow explain the change. “Ah, well,” he begins, and his eyes flicker to the side, as if contemplating whether he should actually say what he’s about to. “It’s kind of funny, actually.”

“Oh, I’m all ears,” the podcaster says, leaning in even more, his grin widening. “I love a good story.”

Charles glances down for a moment, his fingers tracing the outline of the cup of coffee in front of him, before looking back up. “Okay, so … how do I say this?” He pauses, clearly trying to find the right words, and then he laughs again, softer this time, like he’s laughing at himself. “It’s actually because of Y/N.”

The podcaster raises an eyebrow, leaning back slightly in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Charles nods, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It’s … her. I mean, not directly, obviously, but … you know, her ... uh, how do I say this without it sounding ... weird?”

“Hey, man, this is a safe space. You can say whatever you want,” the podcaster says, trying to suppress his amusement. “You’ve got my full attention.”

Charles laughs again, a bit more openly this time. “Okay, well, let’s just say it’s ... the result of certain ... activities between us.” He’s clearly embarrassed but trying to make light of it. “You know, when you, uh, go down on someone, and … yeah.”

The podcaster’s eyes widen in realization, and he bursts out laughing, almost doubling over in his chair. “Wait, wait, wait,” he says between gasps for breath. “You’re telling me … your beard is turning ginger because of … her?”

Charles laughs too, but there’s a hint of a blush on his cheeks. “Yeah, I know, it sounds ridiculous. But, uh, yeah. Apparently, her ... uh, juices are, um, acidic? And they’ve been ... bleaching my beard a bit.”

The podcaster is in stitches, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh my God, that’s ... I don’t even know what to say. That’s amazing.”

“It’s funny, right?” Charles says, his grin widening as he watches the podcaster struggle to contain his laughter. “I didn’t even notice at first, but then it started getting more obvious, and she was like, ‘Uh, Charles, what’s going on with your beard?’”

The podcaster wipes tears from his eyes, still chuckling. “And what did you say? I mean, how do you even have that conversation?”

Charles shrugs, still smiling. “Well, we just laughed about it. I mean, what else can you do? It’s not like it’s a bad thing. It’s just ... one of those weird, funny things that happens when you’re in a relationship.”

“So, she wasn’t freaked out or anything?”

“No, no, she wasn’t freaked out,” Charles says, shaking his head. “She thought it was hilarious. I mean, we both did. It’s just ... it’s one of those things that makes us, you know, us.”

“Man, that’s ... that’s awesome,” the podcaster says, finally calming down a bit. “You know, I’ve heard of some wild stories on this show, but that ... that’s definitely up there.”

“Yeah, it’s not something you hear about every day,” Charles admits with a laugh.

The podcaster leans in again, his expression still one of amusement but with a hint of curiosity now. “Okay, but seriously ... have you looked into this? Like, the science behind it? I mean, can that really happen?”

Charles nods, his expression turning a bit more serious now. “Yeah, I did actually. It turns out that it’s possible. I mean, the pH of ... you know, down there ... can be slightly acidic, and that can have an effect on hair color, especially if there’s prolonged contact. I’m no scientist, but that’s the gist of it from what I’ve read.”

“Wow,” the podcaster says, clearly impressed. “That’s ... honestly, I didn’t even know that could happen.”

“Yeah, neither did I,” Charles says, grinning. “But here we are.”

The podcaster laughs again, shaking his head in disbelief. “Man, I’ve got to say ... Y/N is one lucky girl. And you ... you must be very enthusiastic about, uh, certain activities.”

Charles laughs, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Well, I mean, when you’re with someone you care about ... you want to make them happy, right?”

“Of course, of course,” the podcaster says, nodding in agreement. “But still ... that’s some dedication, man.”

“Hey, if it makes her happy, I’m happy,” Charles says with a shrug, but there’s a genuine warmth in his voice that makes it clear he means it.

The podcaster smiles, clearly touched by the sentiment. “That’s sweet, Charles. Really sweet. I think a lot of people are going to appreciate hearing that.”

“Yeah, well, I hope so,” Charles says, his smile softening. “I mean, relationships are about give and take, right? You have to be willing to do things for each other, even if it’s something small. It’s those little things that make it special.”

The podcaster nods, his expression turning a bit more serious now as he listens to Charles. “You’re right about that. It’s the little things that count.”

“Exactly,” Charles agrees. “And, you know, if that means I have to deal with a bit of a color change in my beard, well, that’s a small price to pay.”

“Definitely,” the podcaster says with a smile. “So, what’s next for you guys? Any big plans?”

Charles leans back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Honestly, we’re just taking things one day at a time. We’re happy, and that’s what matters. We’re both busy with our careers, but we make time for each other, and that’s important. We’re just ... enjoying being together.”

“That’s great to hear,” the podcaster says, nodding approvingly. “It sounds like you’ve got a good thing going.”

“We do,” Charles says with a smile. “She’s amazing, and I’m lucky to have her.”

The podcaster smiles, clearly touched by the sincerity in Charles’ voice. “Well, I wish you both the best. You seem like a great couple.”

“Thank you,” Charles says, his smile widening. “That means a lot.”

The podcaster grins, clearly pleased with how the interview has gone. “And, uh, just to wrap things up ... any advice for other guys out there? You know, in case they start noticing their beards changing color?”

Charles laughs, shaking his head. “I’d say ... just go with it. Embrace it. It’s a sign that you’re doing something right.”

“Great advice,” the podcaster says with a chuckle. “Well, thanks for sharing that with us, Charles. This has definitely been one of the more ... interesting interviews I’ve done.”

“Happy to be of service,” Charles says with a grin. “Thanks for having me.”

The podcaster smiles, clearly satisfied with the conversation. “Anytime, man. Anytime.”

[xvysarene]

𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕝

Pairing: Sylus x Fem!Reader Words: ~3.1k Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Eventual fluff Notice: Y/N is not MC, Profanities, Mentions of wounds Summary: There was a connection between you and Sylus that went beyond the typical boss & his right-hand woman dynamic. When you finally had enough of his recent behaviour since his return, you decided it was time to quit.

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

“We agree to your terms, and as soon as we finish the down payment, we expect to see the firearms—”

Before you could even finish, the heavy double doors swung open with a crash. Sylus strode in, a dark aura clinging to him, and you knew that nothing good would come out of it.

“The deal is off.”

You gasped. “You can’t be fucking serious.”

“Ms. Y/N, I thought you said you could handle this deal solo?” Marcel—that cunning eel of a man—drawled lazily. “Looks like Mr. Sylus here still doubts your ability, even after all this time.”

On any other day, you would have knocked the smug grin off Marcel’s face. But your attention was fixed on your boss, Sylus, whose expression was a cold, impenetrable mask of indifference.

“I’ve worked on this for months. Alone. When you were gone chasing shadows,” you hissed, “You have no right to dictate me.”

Crimson eyes met your gaze with a fire of his own as he stepped closer. “And do I need to remind you who’s the leader of this organisation?”

How dare he!

It took a while for the others in the N109 Zone to stop belittling you, to finally trust you as Onychinus’s indispensable weapon who could hold her own ground, even entrusted to run the organisation in his absence.

And he knew this.

“I don’t meddle in your affairs, so stay out of mine.”

He exactly knew what, or who, you were talking about.

Somehow, this conversation was no longer about the deal; it was about something else that had been creating a rift between you both.

“You don’t understand—”

“You have no idea what I understand!” you snapped, jabbing a finger at his firm chest.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Luke entering the room to usher Marcel out.

“If you’re looking for a new job, my organisation is always open for a pretty little thing, buttercup.” He threw a mischievous wink your way.

The man was clearly not uncomfortable with the commotion; it was satisfying to see Onychinus crumbling before his own eyes.

Kieran cautiously stepped forward. “Boss, Y/N, let’s take a moment—”

“You think I wouldn't find out about your little escapade with ‘Miss Hunter’?”

That struck a nerve; Sylus’s eyes narrowed. 

“What?” you continued, your tone dripping with sarcasm, “Mephisto accidentally charged your card with millions just to buy every single protocore in the auction?”

Any heartfelt emotion you held for him was swallowed by fury and disappointment that had been building for some time. This was the last straw, a volcano ready to erupt.

“I’ve warned you before, Sylus.”

Ever since he came back from doing who knew what, he had been distracted. Physically, he was there—but he wasn't present.

Conversations that once flowed easily between you were now peppered by half-hearted responses.

As a last resort, you decided to prepare dinner for him and the twins that one night, something you periodically did when the mood struck, in the hopes of getting him to come around.

Luke and Kieran were happily munching on the lasagna and sipping wine from Sylus’s favourite bottle, their lively chatter filling up the dining room.

But the man who was supposed to be the centre of it all took only a single bite before abandoning it for his phone.

“Sylus, could you please put your phone down and enjoy the dinner?”

The twins froze, eyes flickering between the two of you, sensing the impending storm.

Yet Sylus didn’t even acknowledge you, his attention firmly fixed on the screen in his hand. Somehow, it was more important than the company around him.

“Sylus—”

“Can you get off my back for once?” Red eyes snapped to yours, flashing with irritation.

“You are losing me,” you repeated the words you had uttered that night. The tremble in your voice was a blend of rage and a deeper, more vulnerable feeling.

Sylus's eyes flashed, revealing the first hint of emotion that you recognised—a wounded look, perhaps, or something else that you didn’t dare to think about.

Kieran, determined to defuse the tension, squared his shoulders. “We all should take a breather and approach this with clearer heads.”

Eyes still fixed on your boss’s handsome face, the words came out with unwavering finality, “I quit.”

Ripping the brooch from where it rested just above your heart, you hurled it with such force that it bounced off his chest before skidding across the floor.

The sharp, unmistakable crack echoed throughout the silent room.

Sylus's jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “Fine.”

And that was it. There were no apologies, not even a 'thank you' for your dedication to Onychinus all this time.

“Please, don't do this. We need you,” Kieran’s voice had a note of desperation in it.

A bitter laugh slipped from your lips. “Your boss has made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t need me anymore. Apparently, he has more pressing matters than ensuring the organisation's interest.”

Sylus crossed his arms, his voice cutting like a cold knife. “If you're going to leave, then leave. We don't have time for theatrics.”

With that, you turned on your heel and walked away.

Luke, having just returned from escorting Marcel out, caught sight of the unexpectedly angry tears in your eyes and called out your name as you rushed down the hallway.

What you didn’t expect from quitting was the depth of void it created in your life. You missed the twins’ oddball humour and even found yourself longing for Mephisto’s often irritating caws.

It felt strange not to see the black bird outside of your bedroom window or atop the lamppost, as it normally would.

Despite the financial cushion provided by Onychinus’s paycheck, restlessness drove you back to the N109 Zone before long.

“Thought that we’d never see you again, missy.”

The familiar surroundings of Elysium provided a soothing balm to the loneliness gnawing inside you—the rich scent of aged booze mingled with the sound of rolling dice filling your senses.

“You’re not the only one surprised,” you muttered lowly, sitting down on one of the stools.

“Guess you are more used to staying here than Linkon now,” the young woman behind the bar chuckled. “Many might see it as a slum, but the N109 Zone has its charm.”

During Sylus’s absence, you had called the base as a second home. Staying there made it easier for you to manage the daily operation, sparing you the hassle of travelling back and forth to Linkon.

“What would you like to drink? It’s on the house.” Before you could answer, the woman beat you to it. “Rum and lemonade?”

A sudden feeling of yearning washed over you. It was Sylus who had first introduced you to this concoction right here, you had even questioned his taste at the time, but it had since become one of your favourite drinks.

You gulped the emotion down. “Yes, please.”

She sent you a sympathetic smile, obviously understanding what crossed your mind.

The burn of the rum started to warm your body as the second glass went down easily. Each sip brought back memories of standing side by side in battles and conversations shared in quieter moments, a foolish longing that settled deep within your chest. 

As you set it aside, you felt someone slid on the vacant stool beside you, encroaching on your personal space.

“What’s a pretty girl doing here all alone?”

“Leave me alone.” You didn’t even look at his direction.

Funnily enough, though you normally no longer felt the weight of the brooch—a symbol of your affiliation with Sylus and Onychinus—you now felt its absence vividly, like a phantom heaviness above your left breast.

With it, no one ever truly dared to come near you, wary of crossing paths with Sylus.

Without it, however, meant you were no longer under Sylus’s protection.

The man sidled closer, clearly not taking the hint. “Still playing hard to get even without Sylus behind you? You should have seen him dragged out of the raid like a ragdoll by his pair of thugs. It was pathetic.”

Your heart stuttered, finally looking at the man beside you. “What did you say?” 

Sylus, hurt? It was unthinkable. You had seen first-hand how his wound healed quickly.

“Heh, you really don’t know, do you?” His smile widened, revealing yellowed teeth. “The idiot went to finish Marcel off by himself last night. Imagine taking down dozens of Marcel’s men alone, with all their weapons.”

He daringly placed a hand on your thigh, fingers digging in. “So bitch, you’d better get off your damn high horse and listen. Without Sylus, you’re just another pretty face.”

In a quick manoeuvre, you slammed his head on the bar. His painful howl was cut short as you drew your concealed gun, the barrel pressed firmly against the back of his skull. “Touch me one more time and I’ll paint this bar with your brains.”

The barkeeper approached, her expression impassive as she took in the sight of your gun pressing against the man's head. However, when she noticed the colour draining from your face, a look of surprise crossed her features.

“You didn’t know?” she asked, her tone softer than you expected. “I thought that was the reason you came back here.”

Ignoring the curious stares of the other patrons, you stormed out of the bar, the weight of fear heavy on your shoulders.

The city's familiar streets blurred past as you made your way to the base, and you thought you heard familiar caws in the distance.

You didn't spare a second thought as the electronic lock still buzzed with recognision when your palm and iris scans were verified. The reinforced doors opened, granting you access just like usual.

Luke and Kieran met you in the hallway, no doubt alerted to your arrival. Whether by Mephisto or the security alert, you weren’t sure.

Even with their masks on, their surprised body language was unmistakable.

“How did you find out? Boss made sure that none of us tips you off,” Luke asked.

“It’s true?” you demanded, your voice was tight with anxiety. “About Sylus?”

The twins exchanged silent glances. “He’s in his quarters,” Kieran said slowly. “But be warned, he is in a foul mood.”

As you moved swiftly down the familiar corridors, your heart pounded in your chest. The smell of antiseptic hit your senses as you slid the door open, revealing the dimly lit room.

Sylus was seated on the edge of the bed, his back to you as he changed his bandages. “I told you guys to leave me alone. I’m fine,” his voice gruff.

You took a steadying breath. “Sylus.”

His silhouette tensed, and the set of his shoulders turned rigid. Slowly, he turned to look at you.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was rough.

“I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat. The sight of bandages covering his injuries made it difficult to articulate your thoughts. “Why did you go after Marcel?”

“This isn’t a place for someone like you right now.”

That comment was odd, but you dismissed it as you crossed the room, closing the gap between you. Up close, you could see the bruises and wounds peppering his body—dark, angry splotches that marred his skin, evidence of the brutality inflicted by Marcel’s men.

While the healing process was slower than usual, it was still significantly faster than it would be for an ordinary person.

You had been working with him for quite some time yet you had never before seen him in such a state.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, catching your concerned gaze.

“You don’t look fine,” you said firmly. “I’m not going anywhere until you explain what happened.”

Sylus shifted on the bed, wincing slightly as he rested his back on the headboard. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke, “Marcel was the one behind the bombing of the hunter’s grandma’s house.”

As much as you felt sorry for the UNICORN hunter, you couldn’t understand why he would put his life on the line for her.

Was it because of the connection they had with the Aether Core? Or was it something else?

Unconsciously, your steps faltered backwards. The anxiety for his well-being took a backseat as the grip of jealousy clawed at you.

It was stupid to feel this way.

Suddenly, you felt rooted to the spot, your body freezing in place. The unexpected use of his Evol caught you off guard. 

“You came all the way here, so you’d better damn well listen to me before jumping to any conclusions.”

Even in his weakened state, he managed to pull you back to the edge of the bed and keep you seated there. He wasn’t close enough to touch, but not so far that you couldn’t see the fatigue etched into his features.

“I kept her around because she was useful. Marcel had been trying to frame Onychinus for the bombing.” His fists clenched, knuckles white. “But that wasn’t what set me off, that scumbag had been running his mouth about you, spreading lies of your incompetence, claiming that you’re nothing more than an empty shell.”

You looked at his injuries pointedly. “You took on his entire army because he taunted me?”

He sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration. “Don’t you see? I was the one feeding him that narrative. He had the front seat to everything that happened that day. I’m the one who unravelled the respect you worked so hard to earn.”

Was that a hint of guilt you heard in his voice?

“He’d been saying that you’d be better suited working in a whorehouse.”

Well, that explained the man's aggressiveness back at the bar, you thought.

“I’m not your responsibility anymore, you don’t need to protect me.”

Sylus looked away. Despite his rough edges, there was a glint of raw, exposed emotion that he struggled to conceal.

“It’s not just about responsibility,” his voice low, “Some things... they’re not as simple as just walking away.”

This was the Sylus you recognised—the same man who, in fleeting moments, had looked at you with an intensity or a softness that spoke of unfulfilled longing.

Everything had shifted since that one kiss, an impulsive act born from an evening of too much drink and unspoken feelings. A kiss that, in its haze, blurred the lines between what was accepted and what was desired.

Yet, every subtle brush of his hands, every act of ensuring your safety, was a quiet rebellion against the boundaries he had set from the start—this was not a place where work and pleasure were meant to mingle.

“That was the reason you called the deal off that day.” You fit the puzzles together.

He nodded. “I had a feeling that he was up to something.”

“And yet, I still don’t understand why you had to go behind my back with the hunter. This”—you gestured to his injuries and the distance between you—“could’ve been prevented.”

You tried to mask the hurt. “I thought you trusted me.”

Sylus shifted closer, and even though you felt that his Evol no longer held you in place, you allowed him.

“It wasn’t about trust, not in the way you think,” his voice was softer now, “If he found out you were involved, I couldn’t risk him coming after you.”

“I don’t need your protection as much as I need your honesty. And you were being a jerk.”

“I know and I’m sorry. I just wanted to keep you safe.”

He reached out, his fingers gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Leaning in closer, he cradled your jaw with a careful touch.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat at the intensity in his eyes that he didn’t try to mask any longer. “For caring. But I’d rather not see you get hurt again.”

“Can’t promise,” he murmured, “I will always stand between you and anyone who dares to harm you.”

You could feel the warmth of his breath before his lips touched yours, moving in a gentle, unhurried rhythm.

He wanted to savour this moment, to truly taste you with a clear head, unclouded by any alcohol.

Though, before long, a more primal voice seemed to overtake him. The intensity of the kiss grew, fueled by the unfiltered emotions coursing between you.

It was a fierce, unrestrained need to claim you.

No longer feeling tender, his tongue urged your lips open with a determined persistence. Sylus groaned into your mouth as you parted easily, the need to taste you becoming more urgent.

As he took a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back, your gaze locked with the searing flame in his eyes.

A sudden weight pressed against your neck, and you looked down, startled, to find a crow whose wings arched protectively around a red diamond pendant. It was similar to the brooch he had given you, but this was more than an accessory.

It was more personal—more intimate.

“Will you do me the honour of becoming my partner again?” His voice was husky with emotion. “Onychinus needs you. I need you.”

Carefully, you pushed him down the bed, legs spreading daringly caging his form. “Maybe if you beg a little more, I’ll consider it.” 

Both his eyebrows arched in surprise, visibly taken aback by your boldness.

“But, weren’t we supposed to keep work and pleasure separate?” you teased.

A hint of a smirk curled at the edges of his lips. “I’m the boss. I make the rules. Besides, this is more than just a pleasure.”

His large palms settled on your hips, fingers splaying across the curve of your body with a possessive yet tender grip, pulling you closer.

“Can I start by begging you to kiss my wounds and make them better then?”

As he whispered his request, his masculine hands sneaked their way inside your clothes, fingers trailing a line of fire against your skin. Just as the moment heated up, a rustling noise came from outside the door.

The two of you paused, eyes narrowing with suspicion. 

Suddenly, the door creaked open just a fraction. Before either of you could react, Luke and Kieran let out a startled yelp.

“Oh no! They’re doing the hanky panky!” Luke whispered loudly, scandalised.

In a flurry of hurried movements, the twins slammed the door closed and bolted down the hallway, leaving you both staring after them in stunned silence.

Sylus sighed, hiding his face in the soft bend of your neck. “We’ll definitely have to set some new rules about privacy too.”

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST

[totally-here]

dpxdc twins au except it's no-pulse flavored

Bart’s new roommate looks a lot like Tim. 

Like, suspiciously like Tim. 

Danny’s the same height, has the same shape of nose, same shade of hair, and even frowns like him. He would have been a perfect copy if he acted more like Tim, but Danny definitely holds himself looser than Bart’s ever seen Tim. 

But he still has his face. So, obviously, Bart has to investigate. Maybe he’s a clone, or a shapeshifter, or maybe one of the Gotham rogues decided to get facial reconstruction surgery to look like him, and this was all a ploy. 

Okay, probably not that last one. Bart doesn’t think Tim’s enemies know his identity. 

Anyway, investigation! Bart’ll figure this out himself, and deal with it if Danny needs to be dealt with. And the investigation will start right after he comes up with an excuse as to why he’s back in their third floor apartment when he passed Danny in the hallway a few seconds before. 

Danny stares at him, and Bart stares back. 

“Must’ve been a doppelganger!” Bart blurts out. 

Danny’s silent for a second before nodding enthusiastically and noting that everyone's supposed to have like seven in the world anyway and wow what a wild coincidence that there’s one in their building. 

Bart extends the same courtesy when a week later he walks in on Danny with an iced over pan on the stove. Danny says they should really get their freezer checked out and Bart agrees and asks if he can use the ice for a painting study. 

(They never get their freezer checked.)

Bart finds that Danny’s great at setting up fun things for him to draw, whether he knows it or not. Like the ice, or his collection of rocks, his astronomy textbooks with the pretty covers, his gestures as he rants about his classes, the excited glint in his eyes when he’s talking about his next repair project and how his eyes almost look like they glow in the right light. 

Hm. A good portion of his sketchbook is drawings of Danny, and yet he’s still having trouble with getting the right blue for his eyes. At first glance they’re Tim’s shade of blue, but when he keeps looking they seem to get lighter. Maybe greener?

He should probably stop staring into his friend’s eyes. 

Well, maybe not. Danny doesn’t seem to mind. 

Just like he doesn’t mind when they started regularly sitting very close on the couch, or falling asleep together, or Bart borrowing some of his jackets, or-

Okay, Bart’s kinda seeing a pattern. He and Danny should really have a conversation about if this is platonic behavior or not. 

But not right now, because Bart brought Danny across the river to raid Wally’s board game closet in Keystone. 

And Wally, who’s used to this, just passes by them with a, “Hey Bart, hey Tim.”

“Danny, not Tim,” Danny replies almost absent mindedly, then looks back at Wally, who’s also staring at him now. “Wait, you know Tim?”

“OhmyGod I was supposed to investigate!” Bart says, face palming. It just slipped his mind! And Danny was distracting him with his pretty face that he totally wears better than Tim!

“You know him too?” Danny asks. But he doesn’t look suspicious of them, more amused. 

“How do you know him?” Wally squints at Danny, eyes briefly catching Bart’s in question. 

“He’s my twin,” Danny answers easily. “The Drakes only wanted one kid, so they gave me to their friends the Fentons, who wanted a second one.” He shrugs and goes back to digging around the closet. “Tim and I were always in contact, though. Letters and phone calls and texting, you know?” 

He says it all so casually while Wally and Bart are sharing increasingly concerned looks behind his back. 

Do the Waynes know about Danny? Has Tim never brought him up? Why? Does Danny know about Red Robin? Does Tim-

“Holy shit does this mean Tim has ice powers too!?” 

Or: Tim and Danny are twins. Through a series of coincidences, the first people to find out that aren’t Fentons or Drakes are the flashes.

(This post was brought to you by me recently finishing the 1995 Impulse run, and wanting an excuse to share this panel:

Look they both got called twinks clearly they're soulmates)

[mv1simp]

Into It ♥️ Part 1 of 3

Max Verstappen x Girlfriend!Reader

i'm into it, yeah, says she wanna fuck me later, girl i'm into it

the one in which you’re newly dating your gorgeous boyfriend, max verstappen, after months of pining and flirting. he’s the perfect gentleman, so romantic and treats you just right! now how do you tell him that you’re desperate for mad max to come out and rail ur insides without sounding like a freak 😚

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut but this time with some plot lol, reader essentially is just trying whatever tactic she can to seduce her bf and make mad max come out in bed, size kink, dom/sub elements, 4k WC

PART TWO HERE ♥️ PART THREE HERE ♥️

You look up blissfully at your boyfriend, Max, from where you’re tucked into his side, his strong arm scooping you against him and keeping you warm. You’re rewatching an old classic, Shrek 2, as you wind down from your dinner plans with your friends earlier than evening. Lando and Daniel had joined as well, teasing you and Max mercilessly about how you two were finally together and that the whole F1 grid had been placing bets on when you would make it official.

You had flushed in a combination of embarrassment and giddiness, unable to hold back a matching laugh with Max who had looked over at you with an adoring gaze, his own heart warm with happiness about finally being able to call you his own. You two had run in the same Monaco circles for years - with him as a driver and you on the McLaren legal team. Though initially you only saw glimpses of him through paddock interviews or social media posts celebrating his multiple winning streaks, the two of you had become a lot closer the past couple years through his friendship with Daniel and Lando. Soon enough you were joining them at weekly Padel sessions, leading to you and Max exchanging funny cat memes or popping online to decimate him and Lando on a Call of Duty stream and then eventually onto deeper conversations, from his latest breakups with his model girlfriends or quiet ramblings with a bottle of wine outside a booming party about the pressures of demanding fathers.

Of course, tongues were wagging anytime you two were seen together - especially when Max had his first time in years being single for months before you had gotten together. You couldn’t deny that you had always thought the older Dutch man was incredibly handsome and funny, always full of interesting facts about niche topics, and you found his intensity and passion for his racing career so attractive, as a high powered professional yourself as a lawyer for a luxury car brand’s executive board. But you had always curbed any growing feelings you had for Max, paranoid that it would compromise the strong friendship you two had developed. Besides, given his affliction for dating vogue models, and his respectful gazes or polite touches compared to the much more flirtier ones from other drivers on the grid, you had never thought max considered you attractive.

But somehow, despite both your busy schedules, despite max being across the globe, you always ended up calling each other first to share sad, happy, or even just boring news. You had never once imagined that after winning his most recent championship the first person he came looking for in his celebrations that night was you, his face flushes from champagne and hugging you tightly, his eyes shining with warmth as he told you he couldn’t have won it without you and suddenly you could no longer deny the rapid palpitations of your heart when you looked up at him. And as he looked at you, thumb gently brushing across your cheeks, warm breaths mingling together as your faces drew closer, he couldn’t deny himself any longer either - Schat, all I’ve been thinking about is what I really wanted for my prize instead of this trophy. Can I kiss you now?

And the rest was history. Fast forward a few months and it’s still so surreal to call Max your boyfriend, you think, as you come back to the present, watching him fondly as he chuckles at the movie. Dating him has been a dream - he’s your first serious relationship, your standards too high to waste time with any of the subpar guys you had gone on first dates with before - and wow, did Max know exactly how to knock all of those standards out of the park. He would always drive and pick you up anywhere you wanted, in his sleek luxury cars that had pedestrians gawping, one large hand on your thigh and asking how your day had been. You had literally stopped taking your wallet out anymore as Max always slammed down his black Amex at any opportunity to pay for you - dinners, trips, jewellery and luxurious shopping sprees - and although the staunch feminist in you had initially disagreed you couldn’t help but feel so cared for, so looked after - knowing all you needed on a night out was one hand around his arm and the other clutching a pretty little Chanel purse he had picked up for you at last month’s race weekend, with a matching Dior lip gloss inside. If you were ever having a hard day at work he would always order your favourite foods straight to your apartment, where he would meet you and bitch and vent alongside you about whichever client had been giving you grief.

And my god, the sex - THE SEX with your man had been absolutely amazing. Considering the difference in your past number of relationships, max was keenly aware that he had a lot more experience than you and was so unbelievably sweet and patient - letting you take all the time you needed to go slow and work up the confidence gradually to ask for what you wanted for him. Your first time together had been incredibly romantic, a night at a private house he had booked out for the week on the Italian coastline. After a candlelit dinner and a bottle of wine you found yourself in his lap on the outdoor chaise, soft kisses turning more and more heated, max whispering are you sure, liefje? If you’re not ready-

to which you had cut him off with another deep kiss, pleading for him to make you his once and for all ❤️ His eyes had flickered with a deep intensity at your possessive statement before softening out to adoration again as he gently unlaced your dress and trailed kisses down your body, worshipping you. you’d both cum embarrassingly faster than you’d have liked, high off the feeling of one another, max cleanly finishing inside a condom he threw away before carrying you in his arms to the bedroom inside. Since then, you’d both figured out you had a combined very high sex drive, using every opportunity in your schedules to make love, max never hesitating to always make sure you came first, either on his fingers, tongue or cock. You had the perfect boyfriend. Truly. You couldn’t ask for anything more, yet -

- yet, here you were, feeling like an absolute bitch about the recurrent thoughts that had planted in your mind as you watched max come out of the bathroom freshly showered, getting ready for bed after finishing a gaming stream with his mates following your Shrek 2 viewing. The issue was that your boyfriend - your incredibly hot, sexy, tall Dutch boyfriend - was so stupidly enticing but so oblivious that he has no idea what he did to you. You bit your lip as you looked at him, hair dripping wet, distractingly saying something to you while texting on his phone - but your mind was only fixed on how big and strong Max looked. Your boyfriend was much bigger than you, almost towering over you at 6”1 with your 5”1 frame. His athletic training currently during the season meant he had been looking extra delectable lately, defined abs, thick muscular thighs and a broad shoulder and back that narrowed down to a narrow (or as Lando joked, slutty) waist, highlighted now by the grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips that did nothing to hide the sizeable bulge in between his legs. It was undeniable that he was packing, to the point where you had called it his third leg after first seeing him naked, making him laugh but also take even more care everytime he entered you - you were a lot smaller than his previous partners, after all. He always made sure his pace was gentle and slow, avoiding fully entering you too much in worry of causing you pain. Truly, your boyfriend was too sweet - everything he did was to avoid causing your any pain or distress - which is why you felt too embarrassed to ask him directly to be rougher with you when he was simply looking out for your comfort. It has been perfect for you initially, but now you felt more adjusted to his size, and each time you slept together you felt yourself becoming more and more desperate for Max to be just a little bit rougher, a little bit more controlling. What would he think when his usually sweet, happy go lucky girlfriend admitted she actually fantasised about him completely ruining her? So, of course, you being you - an ambitious feminist - have decided to hatch a conniving strategy to seduce your boyfriend into giving it to you just right!! 💕

Starting tonight - you had already planned to spend the night at Max’s, relaxing after the hectic work week you had both had. Often, you wore his comfortable hoodies that dwarfed you and smelt just like him as you cuddled in bed. Instead tonight you wore an angelic pink lace Agent Provocateur nightie, bows and all, pushing your cute tits up on display for him and complimenting your caramel skin perfectly. Enough to drive Max crazy, right? Sitting against the plush pillows, you had been reading one of your steamy dark romance novels - your latest outlet these days while you manifested getting some back breaking sex with Max - but of course had ended up distracted by the sight of your himbo boyfriend emerging from the shower.

-Schat? So what do you think? Max finally looked up from his phone, making you come back to reality and realize you hadn’t been answering his question. Max’s eyes widened seeing your pretty little form on his bed - he had never seen you wear an outfit like that in bed before. He cleared his throat, inconspicuously shifting his stance so you didn’t notice his hard on at the sight of you when you hastily stumbled to reply - Oh sorry maxie, I missed what you were saying, just a bit tired after today

Max immediately came to your side in bed, looking guilty. Of course Schat, sorry, I’m keeping you up with my gaming stream aren’t I? You had such a long week already, we can go straight to bed now. You cursed your own slip up - of course, your sweet Max would put your comfort first over what you were sure looked like mission successful given the rapid hardening of his bulge you had zoned in on.

You try again as Max dims the bedside lamps, taking your book gently away from your hands and setting it to the side. You lean softly in next to him, fluttering your eyelashes up at him, tits right up against his hard biceps so that your breasts are basically cushioning his arm right in between them. Your nightie rises up your legs, showcasing your soft, luscious thighs for him. Max smiles lovingly at you, cradling your face before peppering your cheeks with baby kisses. You look so pretty, sweetheart. So sweet to wait for me before falling asleep, mein Schat.

You lean in further, lips pouting in an effort your boyfriend would finally catch the hint but instead you found yourself gently maneouvered and tucked into his side, his large hands rubbing soothing circles along your back as he placed a final kiss on your forehead. Goodnight, darling. Your eye twitched at his definitive words, perplexed at how your plan had been so unsuccessful, but you sighed and wished goodnight to Max, falling asleep and already plotting for another day.

A couple of weeks later you decided to up the ante. A sexy, bold crimson red lingerie teddy set, practically see through and showcasing your tan nipples through the lace and mesh, and a pathetic excuse of some lacy red panties to match. You smirked as you eyed yourself in the mirror - sure, it was quite a forward look, but you had found yourself becoming increasingly more desperate for your boyfriend’s attentions after attending his Monaco race today. You did your best to attend the races you could but with your own demanding schedule often struggled to make it, so were very excited to support your boyfriend this time - especially as you had been keeping track of how this season was difficult compared to earlier years given the poorer quality of the RB car. Your eyes had widened at seeing the events this weekend - a string of bad luck events. First, his engine had stalled during free practise, making him lose precious practise time, and then a red flag had been called as he was finishing an almost perfect qualifying lap, ruining his chances of pole, and finally during the actual race he was clipped on the side by one of the Aston Martin’s, making him spin out but still incredibly go on to get P2. It was amazing result given everything, but what caught your attention was a side of your boyfriend you had only every heard whispers about emerge on the track. In the past, you had only attended races he had easily won, appearing calm and collected throughout the weekends as he cruised to P1 - easily overpowering everyone else. Today though - Mad Max, his fans excitedly cheered and paddock staff gossiped, Mad Max is finally back!! In his villain era!!

And your Max was indeed seething at everyone - competitors, his strategy team, the stewards for not giving Aston Martin a penalty - and you had listened in on the radio to hear him angrily swear and yell to his engineer, seen him aggressively overtake and defend his place on the track, and finally seen the stormy expression on his face as he emerged out of his car, clearly pissed with narrowed eyes as he stalked off to his driver room without a word, not even sparing a glance at you or anyone else. Sure, you should have felt a little hurt that he hadn’t noticed you or seen the perfectly planned designer outfit you had arrived wearing, sending the paparazzi into a flurry, but you completely understood that his career was first on the line today and he needed some time to cool off. And honestly, instead of feeling bad for Max - the sick, twisted part of you couldn’t deny that he had looked sooo sexy completely dominating on the track, authoritatively giving orders over the radio and confidently outmanoeuvring his rivals. You had to catch yourself from biting your lip or squeezing your legs together as his rough accented tones got more and more angry throughout the race over your headphones, imaging what it would be like to be pinned down by his strong arms, to have him lean down behind you and whisper naughty things in your ear, to ask if you liked being a dirty little-

“Oh! Y/N! Can we get a quick word?” The sky sports reporters interruption hastily put an end to the illicit thoughts you had been having. Quickly trying to school your expression into something much more PR friendly, you flashed a dazzling smile, “Of course!”. As expected they tried to rile responses out of you to condemn Max’s aggressive performance. But you had stood for none of it, honestly and clearly stating that your boyfriend had driven very capably and fairly given the circumstances and you were extremely impressed with his performance. “He’s a triple world champion after all. Did you just expect him to roll over and not defend his title? If you don’t agree with it then no need to watch it. At the end of the day he’s the one driving the car over the finish line while everyone else is speculating hypotheticals.” The reporters thank you for your input, stumbling for words at your strong defence of your boyfriend. You wandered off before they could say more, catching up with Max a couple hours later when he had debriefed and collected his trophy, looking a lot more chilled out than earlier.

Hey, Schatje he mumbled gently, leaning down to kiss you on the lips after pulling you from a conversation with the other WAGs. Max! you had exclaimed brightly, congratulating him on his win and letting him know just how proud you were of him. You knew he would be tired - we could go to the red bull celebration yacht party for 30min, show our faces, and then play hooky back to ours? I already put in a dinner order for your favourite lamb kebabs.

Max smiled down at you - you knew him so well, always knew what to say and when he wanted to relax. Sounds amazing, Schat he voiced in agreement. Later, after eating dinner at home, Lando sent him a trending insta reel with the caption “Mate, she’s too good to you, you bagged a queen.” Max grinned, expecting some fanmade memes about you and him as he clicked the link (he has seen all the Queen Y/N and he’s just…Ken Max tweets already. You were a well liked figure on the paddock for years with your well mannered speech, excellent dress style and courteous relationships with most of the staff.)

He was suprised to instead see an interview post race of you defending him staunchly, shutting down any opportunity the reporters used to manipulate your words. He walked into his bedroom to find you conveniently waiting for him in bed again, nose buried in one of your romance models, and started laughing at how effective you were at putting the media clowns in their place. Thanks for sticking up for me always, liefje. You smiled back at him with pure adoration - of course Maxie, that’s the advantage of dating a lawyer, right?

He agreed enthusiastically, so caught up on now yapping about the race as he climbed into bed with you that he didn’t even notice the sexy little outfit you had planned just for him, covering you up with his soft duvet before you could properly twirl around and showcase it for him. Your eye twitched again as he yawned in between statements, grabbing your waist and bringing your back in against him, spooning you while his voice gently trailed off, falling asleep.

Meanwhile, your mind was running at 100 miles a minute, a scowl on your face. This was ridiculous, you had gotten all dressed up in an overpriced beautiful outfit just for your boyfriend to get distracted by a 3min interview you had done with an asshole reporter and then fall asleep instead of ravaging you?? You had tonight would be the perfect night, for you to be the one to support him for once, be the perfect outlet for his stress, to use you and manipulate your body for his own pleasure…heat pooled in your gut at your dark thoughts, and you grow wetter between your legs at the mental image of max having his way with you. Maybe it still wasn’t too late. Sighing gently, you closed your eyes, pretending to drift into sleep but moving your plump, barely covered ass behind you to gently grind up on your boyfriend’s cock, which was now rapidly hardening with your practised movements. You sensed Max had awakened when you felt his arms tighten around you, keeping you still in an effort to stop you from exciting him to much while you were still asleep and he couldn’t act on it.

Mmmhmm, maxie, feels so good~ you moaned, still keeping up the facade of having a wet dream, breathing getting heavier and pushing your tits against the edges of his fingers that were wrapped around your waist. You felt him exhale sharply as he came into contact with your hardened nipples, a smirk on your face. Your grinding had managed to push the duvet partially off, exposing your red lingerie in the moonlight - surely this would be enough to drive any man crazy!!

You heard him sigh behind you, shifting slightly and inadvertently pushing his cock against your skimpy underwear as he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck - and you had to hold back a squeal with how hard and big he felt against you, this was it, he was finally going to give in and fuck you awake while he thought you were having a wet dream, he could slide it right in, you were ready for it, for him, you were soo wet already just from imagining it, this was so hot-

Your fantasies are quickly shut down as max easily used his strength to turn you around so your face was buried into his chest again, your ass now devastatingly much too far away to get any action, and began rubbing your shoulders soothingly to get you to fall into a deep sleep again. You almost combusted at the action before deflating and accepting defeat once more. Your kind boyfriend of course would never toe the line of having sex with you in a dubious way were you were asleep. You wanted - no needed, to bring Mad Max out in your bedroom, and you were determined to do whatever it took.

Over the next few weeks you threw countless strategies Max’s way. Leaving your dirty romance books out in plain view, sometimes even opened up to a page right in the middle of a jaw dropping sex scene. Lacier and lacier bralettes and panties left everywhere to prompt him. “Accidentally” deleting his best SIM race time record on his rig. But nothing seemed to be working - max diligently tidyed up the stray underwear, reshelved the books, and generously forgave you for the SIM error before setting a new record later that night instead of fucking you angrily like you had planned. You got more frustrated as both your work schedules became busier, leaving you less time to connect with him. Fuck, last weekend - last weekend you had even thrown out all your boxes of condoms before jumping into Max’s arms when he had come home, laughing and eager to see you. One thing let to another and he was as eager to be inside you as you were to have him inside you, voicing It’s been too long Schat, I’ve missed your sweet body so much, so beautiful for me in between kisses as he reached for the bedstand drawer to grab a condom - only to find it empty. You pretended to have a confused look on your face (truly, you deserved an Oscar for your performance this past month) before oh so innocently suggesting Maxie, we- we don’t have to use one if you don’t want, I’m on the pill -

And there it was - a brief darkening of your boyfriends’ normally loving ice blue eyes, his sharp gaze on you at your suggestion of doing it raw for the first time - before he schooled his features back to normal and gave you a sweet kiss, It’s okay Schat, you’re too sweet, you don’t deserve to feel uncomfortable for my sake, I’ll just grab some from the corner store, da? He was off you before you could protest, promising he would be back soon as you blinked away tears of frustration and denial that yet again your plan had failed. When he finally entered you later that night, ever so gently, condom and all, you closed your eyes tight and imagined how each vein and ridge of his thick cock might feel when fully buried inside you to the hilt, if that goddamn condom broke, if he spilled all of his thick, creamy cum inside you, so much that it spurted out the sides, leaking everywhere, claiming you as his and no one else’s, making such a filthy, filthy mess-

- you came harder than you had the whole month, burying your face in Max’s shoulder to contain the scream that threatened to spill out. You sighed as you came down from your high. Fuck, you needed a drink.

—————————————————————————

A/N: Follow along for Part 2 of this 3 part series to see if dear reader will finally manage to uncockblock herself and release Mad Max!! 😚😚