#but the apartment could get me in this week and I could have a year leae

[plutoslastwords]

I see lando as a single dad too and I was wondering if you’d ever write daughter!reader when she’s a teenager and is going through, well her first menstrual cycle and he’s so completely lost lol

shark week

lando norris x daughter!reader

summary: lando has no idea how a woman's body works, baby norris doesn't listen in health class. the outcome? chaos.

warnings: your first period?

w/c: 1.5k

a/n: okay so i know that it may be unrealistic that a 12 year old would have never heard of a period but idc. it works in the story. sorry for being so mia!! school is terrible atm 😩😩 love you all!! promise i am working on the requests xx

~~~

Going to high school in Monaco was not fun at the best of times.

Everyone says that surely it must be great! It’s Monaco! But when you don’t speak the language fluently - though you have got quite good after living there for 12 years of your life - and have just transferred to a new secondary school where you know no one, life isn’t great. 

Everyone in Monaco has one or two parents who are rich and famous in some way, meaning you can’t even pull the famous dad card to get yourself some friends. You’re stuck sitting alone at lunch, and being picked last for every team.

Lando hates it. He hates it so so much. He doesn't think he can stand seeing his baby coming home sad every afternoon, and he hates how sometimes he can’t be there to comfort you when life is feeling especially tough. He’s debated many a time just sending you to a boarding school back in England, where at least you could speak the same language as the kids there, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to cope with being apart from you for that much of the year.

Therefore, both you and your dad just have to cope with the unfortunate situations, hoping and wishing that soon enough you’ll find your own feet and make some friends. 

Back to the fact that school in Monaco isn’t great on the best days, school in Monaco is absolute hell on the worst days.

On this particular day, you were sitting in Maths class, your least favourite, how were you meant to be able to understand maths in French when you didn’t even understand it in English. It was whilst the teacher was going on about something to do with algebra that you decided that you’d had enough, you put your hand up and quickly asked to go to the bathroom, you weren’t bothered about this anymore.

You took your normal long route around school to get to the bathrooms, having no intention of going back to your maths class anytime soon. You finally get to the bathrooms and it is there that you learn that you’re going to die.

You know that it is not normal to have blood in your pants. It can’t be normal. You must be dying. You sit there in shock for a moment, before starting to hyperventilate and presume the worst. 

When looking back, Lando knows that it is probably his fault that you got yourself into this situation. You never really listened in your Health classes, as they were all in French, and so it was probably his responsibility to educate you on what was going to happen at a certain point, but he’s still just a young guy, that was not top of his list of what he wanted to talk to his preteen daughter about!

You sit in the bathroom stall sobbing and shaking, surely this is the end, you were practically waiting for the Grim Reaper himself to come and pluck you away. In your disorientated mind the only thing that you can think to do is call Lando.

“Daddy I’m dying!” You bawl into the phone, the words barely coming out through your intense sobs.

Immediately Lando drops everything he was doing, freezing at your distressed tone, his mind going straight to the worst. “Baby?!? What’s going on, are you okay?!?” He practically shouts down the phone.

“No!!” You sob, “I’m dying!!!! Daddy please pick me up I-” You don’t finish your sentence because enough intense sob comes in the way and you fall back into hysterically crying.

Lando doesn’t even think twice before leaping up from his desk and rushing to grab his car keys. “I’m on my way, my angel, you’re gonna be okay, daddy’s gonna look after you.” He tries to soothe, but the worry in his voice is evident. 

When he arrives you’re still a sobbing mess, but you have to drag your tear stained body out of the cubicle and to the front office in order to be dismissed. When you see Lando you immediately jump into his arms, sobs wracking your body.

“Oh darling…”  He says, brokenly, he hates seeing you like this, “What’s happened, my love?” 

You don’t respond, too distressed, he seems to get the message and manoeuvres you to the car, where he drives home as quick as he can, to get you someplace familiar, hoping that that will soothe you slightly.

It works, partially. By the time that you’re home your sobbing has lessened, but you’re still nowhere near stable, still almost shaking with the fear that you’re feeling. Lando sits you down on the sofa with a glass of water, putting an arm around your shoulders.

“Baby, tell me what’s going on.”

“I-I’m dying!! I’m bleeding and I’m dying!” You sniffle.

Suddenly everything clicks for Lando and then his mind goes completely blank. Shit, shit shit shit shit shit. He was not ready for this day, not ready whatsoever. 

“I-uhm-oh.” He stutters, not knowing what to say. “Y-you’re not dying, sweetheart, okay?”

“Yes I am!!! I’m dying!!!”

He has no idea what to do. He was hoping he had a year or two left before today came, but apparently luck was not on his side. He sits there, staring blankly at you, as you continue to cry. 

“Baby, I promise you you’re not dying, why don’t you go change your clothes and I’ll come up to your room in a sec and we’ll chat, okay?”

You shuffle to your room, still sobbing but if you’re dad seems so confident that you’re okay, then surely that means something…?

Lando paces around in a panic downstairs, waiting for his sister to answer the damn phone. There is no way that he can be doing this with no help.

After a horrible phone call, with a lot of him being laughed at by his sister for having a 12 year old daughter and still knowing fuck all about the menstrual cycle, he feels more prepared to actually talk to you.

You’re sitting in your bed, covered in blankets and watching a movie when he knocks at your door.

“Darling, can I come in?” 

You hum in response, tired from all of the sobbing and therefore not bothered to actually speak. He enters, with a shopping bag in his hand.

“How're you feeling, my angel?”

You shrug, curling up smaller in your blanket ball.

“Oh, baby, you’re okay, I promise, it’s all natural, okay?”

“Doesn’t feel natural…”

“It’s your period, angel. It’s your body getting ready for pregnancy”

You pull a face of absolute horror at that, “I’m pregnant?!??!”

His eyes widen and he backtracks immediately “No, no, no, no, you’re not pregnant, absolutely not.” He shudders at the thought, “It’s just so that maybe, at some point in the future, if you do get pregnant, your body is gonna be prepared…”

“So I’m gonna bleed until I get pregnant?”

“No, no, just for a couple days every month…”

“For how long?”

“Uhm, I’m not sure about that… like until your 40? I don’t know…”

“40?!??!?! I don’t want to bleed every month until I’m 40!!!!”

“I know, baby, but it’s just something that all women have to go through, it’s just a natural part of life, you’ll learn to cope with it…”

You pause, taking in his words, before eventually nodding in understanding, but that doesn’t mean that you’re done talking, much to Lando’s dismay, who’d quite like to get this conversation over and done with.

“So why do I need to bleed to be ready for pregnancy?” You question.

Lando knows this one, he practised it on the phone with his sister, “It’s the wall of your uterus shedding-”

“Ew.”

“Because your body got itself ready to be pregnant, and then obviously the egg was never fertilised.”

“So if I did get pregnant then I wouldn’t get my period?”

“Yes, I think.”

“Hm.”

“It’s all very normal, sweetheart, this just means that you’re healthy, okay?”

“Mhm…”

“Good..” He smiles, “You all good?”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?”

“What am I gonna do now..? With, you know, uhm- I don’t wanna ruin all my underwear…”

“Oh! Yes, that..” He reaches into his bag, “So, uh- these will stick on top of your underwear, and like uh- catch the blood, I guess.. And then you throw them away after wearing them for like 5 hours or so… That sound okay?”

You nod, slightly sceptical, but oh well.

Eventually, Lando leaves to go and do his own thing, and you stew in the knowledge of your new life. After getting yourself showered and cleaned up, as well as trying your new items, you shuffle downstairs, just needing a hug.

“Hey, baby…” Your dad smiles, as he sits on the tv, watching some nonsense reality show.

You don’t reply, just nestling yourself next to him, needing his comforting touch. He smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer.

“My baby… getting so big… daddy loves you, more than anything…”

~~~

a/n: fank you for reading!!11 send in any requests xx

[anothermaletfwriter]

Invigorated Waters

(Long story ahead)

This vacation was supposed to fix their relationship, if only Jacob (on the left) had been more specific with his wish.

Jacob had planned out this trip with his long-time boyfriend, Adam. They had met on their sophomore year of college and were now both 35 years old. While the early times were sweet, Jacob found it difficult to maintain the same love he once held for over a decade. He had initially attributed it to their relationship stabilizing and becoming stable before he realized that it was physical attraction as well. Neither of them were as physically fit as they were back in college. They even admitted they hadn’t had good sex in years. Jacob felt even more guilty of his dying love especially after he accidentally spoiled himself of a planned engagement in the upcoming month on Adam’s phone.

After many nights researching how to revive a dead bedroom and ignoring the numerous suggestions, though most were demanding enough to be orders, of breaking up, he scheduled a two week long trip in the Palawan province of the tropical country of Philippines. It was an ideal place to resurrect his love. The warm weather would soothe any tensions and the novel experience a new country could spontaneously reignite his love for soon-to-be SO. He had planned out the entire itinerary: staying at the most expensive luxury hotel, island hopping via the boat tour, eating at local restaurants and exploring other tourist destinations. The costs of love necromancy slammed his savings he built up as a digital marketer.

Most of the vacation passed and it was days till they had to get to the airport and fly back home to the states. Jacob found himself somehow drifting even further apart from Adam. His passion was still dead. It wasn’t fixed by the countless colorful corals they snorkeled through, the sweetness of their halo-halos, the countless Filipino ballads playing throughout the whole beach town or even the cute tropical locally-made souvenirs he bought for Adam. He even downloaded Grindr for a week to find a 3rd but not even a third person could spice up the bedroom. His intrusive thoughts of sleeping other men only became more rampant.

The night after an uneventful day of scuba diving and street stall dining of fishballs and taho, Jacob stayed up to feel Adam’s warm hairy chest just for a slight chance of him rediscovering what made him fall in love with him in the first place but it was no use. It was a history of their touches and he felt the end was near. At this rate, he didn’t know what to do. Break up and re-do their entire lives separately? Or suppress his dead love pass the engagement and then the wedding and be miserable underneath to keep Adam happy? Maybe his façade would shatter during their marriage and a divorce would follow. His thoughts swirled around like a typhoon, wrecking his visions of an ending love life. The white noise of an inevitable disaster surrounded his ears, pushing him deeper into their waves until his phone dinged.

Jacob stared at the brightly notified phone with his tired eyes and read a Telegram message.

“I can help with your boyfriend problems,” It was sent by an unknown number.

“I don’t have a lot of money left. I spent it all on this vacation.”

“Don’t worry it’s free. Meet me outside your hotel lobby in 10 minutes.”

Jacob hesitated to respond. His gut told him against the offer. At best, it was a prank text and at worst, he didn’t want to imagine the worst. But he needed to do anything to bring back his love life so he reluctantly messaged, “Okay, I will. See you there.”

Before he went down to the lobby, he held Adam tightly and gave him a kiss on the lips. Despite him being a heavy sleeper, the kiss caused a smile to form. His sneakers shuffled on the brightly clean ceramic floors before they crunched on the gravel path out. The honks and roars of the jeepneys and clinks of other people’s flipflops collided in the warm humid air. An overhead purple mosquito zapper beeped, a few sparks coming out of it.

An attractive Filipino man, presumably in his early 20s, who wore a grey cap and a blue muscle tee that revealed his defined arms, approached him. Introducing himself as Joshua, he revealed he was the one texting him as he himself was an Engkanto, a human being with magical powers. He went on to list the many tourists relationships he had solved, and mentioned that problems like of Jacob and Adam were his bread and butter.

Jacob felt uneasy as the young man spoke to him. There was nothing off about his appearance, in fact he envied his physique as it reminded him of a younger, prime version of himself. There was an unexplainable chill and pang of distrust that rang through his bones yet he felt compelled to go with him.

He followed Joshua through the forest on the way to a hut, where he would perform the love ritual that was said to bring back any love, even if one of the partners was dead. Jacob’s heart fastened worriedly as he delved deeper into the jungle, damp grass brushing past his lower eggs and piercing through the eerie silence of the dark greenery. The small hut was made of bamboo, elevated a few feet off the ground. Jacob walked up the stairs, hearing Joshua shuffle through his pocket. The interior was dimly lit, with a purple candle in the middle, with nothing else. No sacred symbols or sacrificial totems or skulls.

Joshua motioned him to sit down, across from the candle. Jacob sat on the cold rickety floor.

Joshua followed after him, sitting opposite. He took out a small black canister from his pocket and opened it, scooping some of the purple goo. From the dim light, it resembled candle wax but of a thicker and more transparent consistency.

“This will bring back your love for your boyfriend,” Joshua said, his voice calm and deep. He brushed a generous amount on Jacob’s forearm, “Adam right?”

“Yeah his name is Adam,” Jacob didn’t even dare to ask him any rational questions, like how he figured his relationship problem all out or how he got his number. He chalked it up to Filipino magic. The goo felt warm on his forehead. He began to feel tired, though he was sure it was due to how late at night he was staying up, “How does it work?” He yawned.

“Some magical spirit energy stuff, it’s too hard to explain to normal humans,” Joshua brushed the goo on his own forehead as well, an evil grin that stretched past what a normal human could emote escaping through. It was last sight Jacob remembered before he fell asleep. There were no dreams of reuniting with Adam along the beach that represented his renewed love or flashbacks to his first date at the college town’s Waffle House, just darkness in his sleep.

Jacob woke up with an intense energy next morning. But his bedroom was different. He knew from the bright green walls and sturdy fan swaying that he was not at the luxury hotel with expensive AC and gigantic windows that overlooked the forest but at a house. He reached to grab to his side but Adam wasn’t there.

“Holy shit,” He exclaimed to himself, hearing his new voice and Filipino accent. He felt up and down his face, free from any facial hair and his Adam’s apple poking out more. He looked down on his stomach, differing from the white and flabby belly, it was smooth, tan and shredded with his abs. He glazed his soft hand across the crevices between his abs before he squeezed his bigger chest. He stroked his arms, admiring the craftsmanship of his biceps. He opened the phone camera, as muscle memory let him unlock it. His hair was short and jet black, face slimmer and youthful. It was real. He had swapped bodies with Joshua!

Jacob messaged him frantically, “Dude, give me back my fucking body.”

An instant response followed, like Joshua had been expecting it, “Relax. I’ll give it back once I fix your body’s love. It will take some time. While you wait, have fun in my body. I’ll let you know when we can swap back.”

Son of a bitch. Jacob searched his short’s pockets and found the container from last night, it felt lighter but he shook it, hearing the weird liquid droopy noises. He still had the swapping purple goo, ready to use to swap them to normal again, whether Joshua wanted to or not, “You better swap us back before we have to leave tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll hear back before sunset. Just enjoy yourself and your new body, I worked hard in building it :)”

Jacob shut off the phone and rubbed his hands on his forehead out of frustrations. Part of him believe he had been tricked but the optimistic portion of him expected a fixed relationship before he went to bed that night. He thought of how badly he was missing his boyfriend, planning not to sleep with anyone as he didn’t want to betray Adam.

He got off the bed and stood on the floor, realizing the world was shorter than he remembered in his old body. He was the only inhabitant of the house, hearing no one else except TFC on the large TV in the living room. More memories of the body permeated through his mind, as his hands and brains coordinated together through the fridge and cabinets to cook a typical Filipino breakfast of garlic fried rice, bangus, cherry tomatoes and tortang talong. The tangy savory flavors meshed well in his new tongue. Jacob hoped that when he returned to his original body, he would remember how to cook the Filipino food. While cleaning the dishes, his phone dinged.

Heart pounding from anxiety, he opened to Telegram. But he was disappointed that it was someone else. Jacob was surprised as he was able to understand the Tagalog frequently. The text came from Tomas, a 35 year old, also a local like Joshua, and one of his fuck buddies.

“Handa ka na ba para sa aming pre workout session?” (Are you ready for our pre workout session?)

Jacob was quick to nearly decline the message but before his smooth fingers could hit send, a surge of lust overpowered his body. More memories of Joshua started to infiltrate and even replace some of his own. Jacob was unable to recall the first few moments of relationship, not even during their college years. He was losing himself to the Joshua’s consciousness. Why wouldn’t he accept the offer? He was young and he had a terrific body that anybody would kill to have, let alone have sex with. That’s why he was popular in not only Grindr but on OnlyFans as well. Local neighbors to travelers from across the country and even internationally were common visitors to his bedroom. But that was Joshua, not Jacob. He was still Jacob, even if he wasn’t in his original body, unfortunately that didn’t matter as his fingers deleted the declining message and sent a thumbs-up emoji.

His fears of assimilation quickly dissipated when Tomas arrived at his front door for their ‘session’. He was a paler muscle daddy Tito that worked from home as an accountant, taking frequent breaks at work. Joshua-Jacob closed the door as he led him to his bedroom like it was a weekly routine. Quick to strip down, Joshua-Jacob ripped off his black shorts and underwear, unleashing the monster between his legs. He stroked it frantically before Tomas stopped any premature actions.

Tomas’ mature yet energetic face stared seductively at Joshua's eyes, stroking his tender jawline and playing with his straight black hair. Tomas whispered to him, smirking as he took off his clothes, down to his tight red thong that barely covered his older bubble butt, “Huwag sayangin ang iyong enerhiya” (Don’t waste your energy yet)

At first, Jacob returned to consciousness. He was a total sub bottom as the last time he recalled topping was before his first hookup with Adam. Now this body was a prime example of a dom top. With each thrust, more of Joshua returned back to form, getting more prominent. Joshua held on the older man’s wide muscular waist as he clapped his firm cheeks vigorously, causing the both of them to moan loudly, after all, their noises were drowned out by the vehicles on the road outside. Sweat dripped down from his pecs to his six pack and eventually to his double digit inch cock, shaved perfectly. A shot of dopamine hit through his system as he finished inside of the older man. His legs shook as he continued on for a second round on the hot piece of meat that posed in front of him, finally stopping after a few more minutes.

Tomas laid ass up on his bed with Joshua’s seed leaking from his looser hole. He caught his breath, sweating, “Wow, iyon ay mas kamangha-mangha kaysa sa karaniwan mong ginagawa.” (Wow that was more amazing than you usually do)

Joshua continued to flex his body for his cocky ego. He had the physique and libido e of a young God. Without thinking, words left his mouth, “Mas may energy ako ngayon.” (I have more energy today)

After they cleaned up, they went to the gym together, where Joshua snuck in a quick blowjob after doing a chest day that would have ended him in his original body. Once their pumps wore off and it was time for Tomas to go back to work, they went off separately for the rest of the day.

Joshua, whose heart and dick couldn’t stop pounding from the new lingering memories of pounding the bubble butt of the muscle daddy, sat on the beach shirtless, hoping to catch a few waves and perhaps a few more dudes. He relaxed as the sun reflected off his tan skin. He could get used to this carefree lifestyle, no worries about monogamy or the sorts. That was Joshua, though. Jacob yearned for the intimate warm touches that Adam used to give him, even if all he now remembered of him was of the past month. Time was running out.

Joshua-Jacob frantically spammed Jacob-Joshua, berating him for not telling him about the memory destruction result from body swapping. There was not even a left on read message. He must be having plenty of fun with Adam. His fears of not making it back to his old lifestyle and body vanished as a wave of libido and energy devoured him yet again. The once suppressed guilty desire of fucking other men other than his boyfriend conquered him again. Joshua's spirit took over again.

Joshua-Jacob began the rest of the day on Grindr, with the goals of finding more hookups and parties. It was a wonderful experience, fucking so many different men, from on a boat to a secluded spot on the beach and even in the hotels near the one he was staying in originally. He never tired out, often going for multiple rounds like he did with Tomas, with no need for breaks except for water. The men lusted him for his physique, youthful endurance and the powerful thrusts he made with his member and hips. Many of them hoping to see him again and continued to message him on social media.

Joshua finally rested at a bar. He had finished his American cheese burger and a healthy kale salad. His seat faced the ocean. The sun was orange, its rays glimmering on his glamorous muscles and on his deep dark brown eyes. He found it hard to imagine a life other than one of hedonism and freedom until his phone rang, revealing it was 6:00 pm.

Shit, it was sunset. There was a notification. Not from Telegram. It was Grindr. It was from the couple looking for a 3rd account. Thank fucking God.

“Free rn?” The account, likely Joshua, the imposter Jacob, in charge, messaged.

The real Jacob felt himself come back as he replied with a “Yes”. Memories of Adam and their entire relationship together returned, back to the beginning of when they ate undercooked chocolate cheesecake pancakes and had food poisoning the rest of their first date night. He realized that by not being with Adam, he had an affinity that he truly cared and loved him. It followed the old saying of not knowing what really matters until it’s gone. He was so close to getting home and being back with his loving boyfriend.

The account responded with a simple Thumbs-up. It was all Jacob needed as he ran to the hotel, careful to dodge other pedestrians and the rampant tricycles that carried the other tourists and their luggage. The hotel door was unlocked and the room was dark as Jacob entered. He could see Joshua and Adam were sitting on their bed naked.

Jacob introduced himself as ‘Joshua’ to the both of them, taking notable excitement in Adam. Without much speaking, likely from Adam’s awareness of the language barrier, they fucked. Despite Jacob’s attempts of meshing in between them, he was always pushed aside by both of them, always topping but never in the middle. Despite not bottoming as Jacob usually did with his boyfriend, the sex between them was spectacular, as he filled them up with bucket loads of his semen. His kisses with him were the most passionate he ever did in his life. He thrusted with soul and love into him. By the time that Adam fell asleep, the part of the bed they were doing it was soaked in their liquids intermixed with each other.

“Alright,” Jacob panted, sweat covering his glorious body, speaking to his former face, “Let’s swap back, now. I feel it again, thank you.”

Joshua shook his head, “Nope, thank you for giving me your wonderful life and your even better boyfriend. I can’t believe you gave all of it up,” The same grin he had recalled the night before now appeared on his face and mouth. He felt as if a demon possessed his body and was mocking him, it probably was at this point.

“You’re giving me back my body, my life and my boyfriend,” Jacob shouted, looming over his former body.

Joshua looked unimpressed with his threats, yawning slightly, “You should have known better than to trust an Engkanto, let alone of the trickster type,” He simply lied down on the bed and pretended to sleep, cuddling with Adam, in a cruel way of mocking Jacob.

Jacob thought fast, remembering the jar of purple goo in his pocket. He reached out and opened it to find nothing. Scooped empty. Entirely clean like it was never there. Despite his failure, he grabbed his body by the arm, which was lightwork due to his younger and powerful strength, “Swap us, now,” He demanded with rage in his smaller pupils.

Jacob was met with the torment of his own laugh cackling at him, with a deep undertone that caused shivers, like his original body was being corrupted, "You think you were clever thinking you could use the purple jelly against me?”

“But I shook it around earlier and I heard it. I didn’t lose or misplace it in between now and then” Jacob's skin grew bumpy from the goosebumps. He felt like he was in a nightmare, his stomach turning on itself as his old face morphed.

“Don’t forget I’m a trickster.” His grin grew unnaturally big, like his mouth was too big on his own face. “I like the attempt though, you really want to swap back. But I did notice how much fun you had in my body. I think even more than I did with your own body and your awesome boyfriend!”

“I just want to be back in my own body and be back with Adam. Nothing more! I want my life back, Joshua!!" Jacob screamed, hoping it would wake Adam up, but he didn’t.

“Joshua? I think you hit your head or something cause that’s your name, not mine. I’m Jacob,” His body taunted before he started to mutter an ancient language. Some remnants of it sounded Tagalog but the others sounded ancient, it was not human in origin.

“W-what, no. Don’t lie to me, Joshua, Jac—“ Jacob stopped speaking as he felt his own self merging with Joshua’s body. He looked at his own Jacob's face. He felt increasingly dizzy, as Jacob helped sit him down, who explained that he had fucked a bit too hard for his own good. Despite how hard he tried to shun him out, Joshua-Jacob’s post-college years of working in the field of marketing in America mutated into times living between popular touristy areas in the Philippines, only able to afford them from his OnlyFans income and sugar daddy money. His own personality and thoughts replaced by that of Joshua, as the familiar shock of testosterone and libido electrified his body. It caused Joshua to get a hard on and passionately kiss Jacob.

Jacob offered no resistance, allowing Joshua to feel every spot on his body with his tongue. It didn’t take long for Jacob to get onto his position with his jiggling white ass up in the air. Joshua slid in with ease, relentlessly hitting his prostate and causing the both of them to finish within minutes. In the release of his semen, the remnants of Jacob’s consciousness and personality drained out of his body. The transformation was complete. Joshua finished, collapsing on the soft mattress on his back, his bulky chest rising up and down. Jacob was generous enough to hand him a water bottle from America.

“Thank you, Kuya Jacob,” Joshua said as he gulped down his water, spilling some onto his abs and then using a clean towel to dry it up, “You guys are leaving for America tomorrow morning?”

Jacob nodded, as his supernatural grin turned into a generous smile. “Yeah. Don’t worry. I’ll let you know the next time we vacation here.”

Joshua whispered as he put on his shorts and black jersey, “Congrats on your future engagement. You two would make amazing husbands. You’re always welcome here in the Philippines!” He smiled.

“You’re a good young guy. Get home safe,” said Jacob, waving goodbye as he cuddled with Adam.

Joshua left the hotel with hope for the next day, with many collaborations and hookups he was going to perform that day as part of his typical life. The notion of finding a guy and settling down was foreign and too weird to him. Why should he only stay with one guy when he had such an irresistible and young body? He was young and he needed to enjoy that and pleasure himself.

[thewritingrowlet]

The Road Back to You, ft. tripleS Lee Jiwoo

tags: creampie, (light) daddy kink, rekindled love

length: almost 6k words

author's note: well, here it is: one of the fics that was stuck in the WIP dungeon—have at it, you.

-

“The Cavendish Group says—oh my God, who is it?”

You look at your buzzing phone; Jiwoo’s mother is calling you. You take a few deep breaths to clear your mind before picking up the call.

“Good afternoon, this is Shin Hyunwoo,” you greet her.

“Hi, son—have you been well?”

“Yes, I have, madam. Is there anything I can help you with?”

The woman on the other side pauses for what feels like an eternity.

“It’s about Jiwoo,” she pauses again, “she’s… been quite ill for the past two weeks, and I thought maybe you should pay her a visit.”

Your heart races: you haven’t talked to Jiwoo for almost a year now ever since she walked out your door that one night, and the prospect of seeing the cause of your heartbreak is rather… unsettling.

“I know you’re busy, but if you have time, please consider visiting her.” You can hear the sincerity in her voice, and it’s getting difficult to say no. Your gaze is locked on the large monitor in front of you as you thoughtfully consider her mother’s words. Eventually, with a heavy sigh, you agree to see Jiwoo at her place.

“I’ll tell her you’ll be coming after you get off work.” You can hear the joy in her voice, and it’s getting difficult to calm your racing heart. Your gaze shifts to the window next to you, and reflected on its surface is your smiling face. Eventually, with a chuckle, you admit to yourself that you are indeed excited to see Jiwoo at her place.

-

You take exactly 6 deep breaths before knocking on Jiwoo’s apartment door. Initially, no answer is heard from the other side, but as you prepare to knock again, the door suddenly shifts.

“O-oppa, you’re… actually here…”

You offer her a tentative smile, unable to tell whether she’s excited to see you or not.

“Yes, I am—erm, your mother asked if I could visit you, so…” You trail off, hoping that Jiwoo will catch on. A smile of similar nature stretches over her face. “Please get inside, oppa.”

Jiwoo invites you to sit on the sofa with her, and after you’re seated, she asks for permission to rest her head on your shoulder for “old times sake.” With a smile on her face, you grant her that permission. “Thank you,” she mutters softly as she leans against you. Your eyebrows furrow when you feel her hot temple on your skin. “You’re that sick, baby?” Jiwoo pretends to have missed the endearment, biting her lower lip to stop herself from blushing. “Yes, oppa; it’s been pretty bad.”

You offer Jiwoo to rest her head on your thighs, and without saying a word, she takes you up on it. Not only that, but she also guides your hand towards her forehead. “Hm, hot,” you blurt. She nods slightly. “My head hurts too,” she complains, sighing deeply at the end. You bite your tongue slightly as you think whether you want to ask her this question in your head. “Ah, screw it.” The suddenness confuses Jiwoo. “Screw what, oppa?”

“Can I take you to the bedroom, baby?”

Jiwoo’s blinks rapidly; she hasn’t heard you say such a sentence in a long while, and now, merely minutes after your return, she hears it again, thus causing her cheeks to turn pink.

“Y-yes, oppa; p-please take me to the bedroom.”

Jiwoo nuzzles her face in the crook of your neck as you’re lifting her bridal-style to her room. “Mm, you still smell the same,” she comments. You chuckle a little. “I just keep buying the same perfume and cologne,” you say. She nods against your skin. “Don’t ever change them, please; I love the smell of you, oppa.” Your eyebrows rise; does Jiwoo realize she’s saying all this like she was still your girlfriend?

“Ah, whatever—not the time to think about it.”

You carefully lower Jiwoo onto her bed, and that is when she tightens her arms around your neck. “Don’t leave me—please, not again,” she begs. You sigh deeply. “What do you mean not again, Jiwoo-yah?” She looks at you in the eyes. “You know what I mean, oppa, so please don’t leave me, not when I need you most.” You sigh again. “You were the one who broke us up, sweetheart; I was just respecting your decision.”

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she feels the weight of regret of the decision that led to her stepping out of your door and, in turn, your life. “I-I was… reckless, to say the least—I-I’ve now realized that I can’t leave without you.” You stay silent, indirectly asking her to keep talking. “I’m so, so sorry for leaving you, oppa,” her eyes are shiny with unshed tears, “I should’ve been more patient, more understanding…”

It warms your heart that Jiwoo understands the significance of her decision to leave the relationship and is welcoming about your return. Before guilt overwhelms her, you throw her a lifebuoy in the form of a soothing touch of hand to her forehead. “Sweetheart, I think we’ve both learned our lessons—for now, let’s just focus on recovering.” She smiles slightly. “Please join me in bed, oppa.”

You slide onto the bed as she asks, spooning her from behind just like how you used to. “This is… so nice,” she sighs, seemingly in relief, “thank you for making time for me, oppa; I know you’re busy and all that.” You give her a soft peck to the back of her head. “You have a special place in my heart and mind, Jiwoo-yah—not to mention that your mom was quite good at persuasion.” Jiwoo giggles. “A chip of the old block, or something like that.”

-

Time ticks by as you spend a few hours spooning the sick woman, and now that your eyes are open again, you see that it’s quite dark outside the window.

“Jiwoo-yah,” you whisper softly, “I think we should find something to eat.” Jiwoo stretches languidly as she gets herself together. “What time is it?” You look at your watch. “Almost 9 p.m.” She exhales deeply. “Can we have food sent here, because I don’t feel like going out.” You ask what she wants to have. “Anything that’s warm like you.” Your heart jumps. “Warm like me, you say?” She nods with a smile. “Warm like you, oppa—that’s what I need right now.”

You quickly order some noodle soup for both of you. “Food will be here in around 20 minutes, sweetie, so please hang on.” Jiwoo places a hand on yours. “Thank you, oppa; I appreciate it.” Once again, you give her a peck to the back of her head. “The pleasure is mine, sweetie—thank you for welcoming me again.” She sighs deeply. “Can’t we just pretend like we never broke up?” Well, isn’t that a good question. “I don’t know, honestly. I mean we haven’t seen each other for almost a year.”

You spend the time cuddling the sick woman whose (literal) hotness gradually becoming a source of concern. Thankfully, however, you’ve received notification that the food has been delivered to her door, which means that she’ll soon be able to take her medicines and get some rest.

Jiwoo reluctantly lets you go from the embrace. “Come back quickly, oppa,” she begs, her voice barely above a whisper. You give her a nod before stepping out of the bedroom to get the food from the door. You prepare the noodle soup for her, opening the bowl-like container and putting a spoon in it.

You help Jiwoo sit and lean against the headboard to support her weak frame. “May I feed you?” She nods with a faint pink on her cheeks. You take a spoonful of only the soup for her to taste. “Is that good?” Jiwoo sighs. “Not as good as expected, but that’s probably because I’m ill.”

You tend to Jiwoo with utmost patient, feeding her carefully until she finishes her food—or not; she’s weakly pushing your hand away from her lips. “That’s enough food,” she says. It’s unfortunate that she’s calling it quit now that there’s only two spoonsful of noodle soup left. “Baby, finish it, please?” She turns her face away from you, signaling that she really doesn’t want it. “Okay, if you say so.”

You place the unfinished food on the bedside table and ask where her medicines are. “I don’t want them too.” You sigh. “Baby, please, I just want to help.” Realizing that she can’t counter-argue, Jiwoo points at the drawer of the bedside table. When you open it, you notice that she has only taken her medications twice. “You’ve been skipping your meds, baby?” Jiwoo doesn’t answer your question, and that is when you sigh for the nth time.

You carefully turn her face towards you. “Baby, what’s happening right now—you’ve been ill for almost two weeks, but you haven’t been taking your medicines.” A tear flows out onto her cheek. “I-I’m sorry, b-but I just… I haven’t been feeling so well recently, if you know what I’m saying.” You hesitantly reach to pet her head. “Will you please cooperate for now? I’ll walk out of your life again when you’ve gotten better.”

Jiwoo breaks down into tears. “A-are you listening to yourself, oppa? Y-you’re saying that you’ll leave me again—are you fucking serious?” You wipe her tears with your thumb. “Baby, that’s not what I was trying to say; I’m just saying that I need you to work with me so that you can fully recover.” She closes her eyes tightly before looking back at you. “A-alright, I-I’ll… I’ll cooperate—j-just promise that you won’t leave me after this.” You offer her some assurance that you’ll stay, and that is when Jiwoo signals that she’s willing to take her medicines.

You prepare her capsules and pills along with a glass of water. “Ready when you are, baby.” Jiwoo takes the medicines from your hands and quickly swallows them. “Are you happy now?” You shake your head. “I won’t be happy until you’re healthy again.” She chuckles. “Hard to please, as always,” she snarks. A flicker of hurt crosses your features, but you quickly shake it off; right now, Jiwoo’s health is more important than your feelings.

Jiwoo moves to lie down, facing away from you dismissingly. “I’ll be at the living room if you need me,” you say. You give her some soft pats on the thigh as you make to leave to give her space to rest. You stop at the door, hoping that she’ll call you to cuddle her to sleep, but it doesn’t look like she wants it. “Yeah, okay,” you mutter as you close the door behind you.

You take a few deep breaths after sinking your butt into the fluffy cushions of the sofa. “Jiwoo has taken her meds and is sleeping right now,” you send a text to her mother, notifying her of Jiwoo’s current condition. “Thank you, son,” she replies soon after, and with it, you close your eyes to get a taste of peace.

Just minutes into your slumber, you feel someone wrapping their arms around you from behind while placing their chin on the top of your head. “Hm? Are you okay, sweetie?” “No,” she answers weakly. “Cuddle, please?” You collect yourself and stand up from the sofa. “I’m sorry, I just thought maybe you needed some space.” Jiwoo bites her lip in uncertainty. “I thought so too, but I think it’d be better if you’re with me.”

You follow her back to the bedroom, lying down square on your back while Jiwoo puts her head on your chest. “I’m sorry for being difficult, oppa; you’re here to help, but I’m not playing along.” You pet her head softly while offering some assurance, denying her attempt at guilt-tripping herself. “I wish… we hadn’t broken up…” she trails off as she drifts to sleep.

-

-

Subtle taps on your stomach stir you awake, and through your half-open eyes, you see Jiwoo sitting in bed next to you with a bottle (that’s more akin to a jerrycan) in her hands. “Can I help you?” She nods as she brings the bottle closer to you. “Can you, erm, get me some water, please?” You rub your eyes to wake up and take the bottle from her. “Sure, baby.”

You arrive at the kitchen where the dispenser is—wait, what is that hanging on the fridge?

You free the folded paper from the magnet and read the content, noticing the frequent strikethroughs right away.

“Dear ex-boyfriend,” the letter starts. "Thank you for making the time to come here and take care of me. It means a lot to me that you still care about me, and I don’t want to sound too hopeful, but I wish we can start over from square one.”

“So, can we start again?” Her voice makes you jump. “Answer me, oppa; can we start again? Will you give me another chance?" You turn to her with a sigh. “Let’s… focus on getting better for now.” Your indecisive answer disappoints Jiwoo, her eyes shining with unshed tears of unspoken dismay. “Sure, if you say so…” she trails off as she enters the bedroom again with slouched shoulders.

When you return to the bedroom, you find her curled up in bed, hugging her knees. “Jiwoo-yah, your water,” you say, hoping that she’ll get out of that position. “I’m not thirsty,” she replies, her voice barely audible. You set the filled bottle on the bedside table. “Well, it’s here if you need it.”

Your hand lingered on the bottle just a second too long, and Jiwoo is quick to find your wrist, gripping it weakly. “Stay,” she begs, “I don’t want to be alone again.” It’s disheartening to see the usually cheerful girl like this. “Alright, I’ll be in bed with you.”

Jiwoo tangles her long limbs around your body to keep you close. Not only that, but she also puts her head on your chest. “Your heart is racing,” she comments. You chuckle. “So is my mind.” She looks up at you with hopeful eyes. “I hope you’re thinking about getting back together.” You exhale deeply. “Well, I am, actually.” Jiwoo is getting excited. “So?” You take a deep breath before replying.

“Well, I think… I think I’m falling for you again.”

Jiwoo gathers her strength and moves to straddle your lap, a mysterious grin spreading across her features. “Why are you looking at me like that, baby?” She chuckles. “I want to make love to celebrate getting back together.” Blood rushes towards your cock at her words, but you don’t give into lust as you would’ve in the past. “Baby, you’re still sick—weren’t you complaining about a headache earlier?” She shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she deflects.

Jiwoo’s grin falters when she gets the signal from your stern expression. “Ah, well, I suppose I should get better first.” She then proceeds to let her torso rest on yours. “Thank you, oppa,” she mutters. You press your lips against her temple. “We will have time for celebrations, baby—not now, though.”

-

When you wake up the following morning, Jiwoo’s limbs are still entangled with yours as she sleeps oh-so-peacefully with her mouth slightly open. You carefully free yourself from the embrace, not wanting to disturb her slumber any further, but despite that, Jiwoo wakes up.

“Going somewhere?” she asks, her voice hoarse. “I have to go to work; we’re trying to strike a deal with Covington.” Jiwoo furrows her eyebrows. “Covington? The same Covington from years ago?” You nod. “The one and only.” Jiwoo offers you a supportive smile. “Go get them, then, tiger—make yourself rich.” You chuckle. “Thanks, baby.”

Jiwoo’s smile begins to disappear as she watches you put on your jacket and walk out of the bedroom. “I miss you already, oppa,” she mutters, too quiet to reach your ears. She sighs deeply when she hears your car driving away. “See you later, I guess.”

Jiwoo spends some more time rolling around in bed, and at one point, she wonders if she could pretend like her illness is coming back just so she would have a chance to call you back home. As she scrolls down on her contact list, however, she decides against it; Jiwoo remembers that you’re trying to strike a deal with Covington.

The unhappy-but-understanding Jiwoo eventually gathers her will to leave the bed, stretching around and yawning as she gets herself together. She walks over to the mirror to take a look at herself; her hair is a mess, her lips are anything but red in color, and her eyes are, well, red.

“Whatever”, she shrugs, “still good enough for him.”

Jiwoo proceeds to make her way to the bathroom for a quick soap-less shower before heading towards the living room to entertain herself while you’re away doing God-knows-what. She picks up her handheld console to play the new game she bought some days ago, but she puts it down after a few minutes of gameplay; the bright and flashing lights are proving to be difficult to bear in sickness.

Jiwoo lies flat on the sofa, her mind wandering beyond the walls of her apartment. “What are you doing, oppa, and when are you coming back,” she wonders. A ding from the door makes her jump; could it be you coming back early to surprise her?

Jiwoo rushes to look through the peeping hole in the door, and excitement instantly goes away because it’s not you who’s at the door, but rather a food delivery guy. She puts on a face that screams “I’m sick” and opens the door to accept the food. “A delivery for Mrs. Shin,” the guy says as he brings the bag closer to her. Jiwoo blushes at the reference, but before her mind scrambles even further, she quickly grabs the bag from him. “H-has m-my husband tipped you?” The guy nods with a smile on his face. “Your husband was very generous with the tip, actually.” Jiwoo smiles in pride. “That’s… how he usually is.”

Jiwoo quickly sends the delivery guy on his way, closing and locking the door behind her before high stepping towards the sofa while giggling, the discomfort of illness forgotten for a moment. She pulls out the contents of the bag, which turns out to be a large box of pizza and a side of snacks from a place named Primo, her old favorite.

Jiwoo’s forehead furrows when she notices a folded piece of paper stuck on the cover of the pizza box. “What is this,” she wonders as she unfolds it.

“Hi, baby,

I’m sorry for leaving you alone this morning, but I promise I will come back as soon as possible. That is, if you’d let me come back.

Meanwhile, please enjoy the pizza and garlic bread. I asked for extra tartar sauce because I know how much you like Primo’s tartar. By the way, feel free to finish it all.”

With a smile on her face, Jiwoo presses the letter against her chest, both touched and entertained by the gesture. “Come back to me soon, oppa; I can’t stand being away from you for too long.” She puts down the letter on the table and shifts her attention to the 8 slices of delight and deliciousness in front of her.

One slice after another enters her mouth and towards her belly, and before she knows it, there’s only one slice of pizza left while the box of garlic bread hasn’t been touched at all. “I’m keeping you for later,” she says.

-

Another ding is heard from the door, and this time, she’s certain that it’s you instead of another delivery guy, considering the current time.

Jiwoo squeals when she sees you through the peephole, and in a moment of excitement, she happens to incorrectly enter the code of the door. “Oh, are you serious right now, Lee Jiwoo,” she’s annoyed at herself, “come on, come on—there we go.”

Jiwoo greets you with arms wide open, no longer showing signs of weakness from the illness, and you’re quick to fill the space in her embrace. “Oppa, welcome home!” You give her a peck to the temple. “Thank you for welcoming me back.” She returns the peck, but it lands on your lips instead. “You’re always welcome here—after all, we’re getting back together.”

Jiwoo pulls away from the embrace momentarily and looks at you in the eyes. “Wait, we’re getting back together, right?” You chuckle. “Only if you want to; I won’t force you into giving me another chance.” She takes the turn to chuckle. “You don’t have to force me; I’m already falling for you for the second time.”

Jiwoo drags you towards the sofa, the box of reheated garlic bread waiting on a table in front of it. “I finished the pizza right away, oppa, but I saved this for you.” Her cute joyfulness makes it irresistible to not smile. “Thanks, but can I ask you something first, baby?” She nods. “Ask away, oppa.”

“You didn’t forget your meds, did you?”

Jiwoo’s gaze strays away from yours at the realization that she forgot to take her medicine twice today. “I-I forgot, oppa…” she trails off, no longer as joyful as earlier. “You forgot, huh?” She gulps to swallow the anxiety that’s stuck in her throat. “Y-yes, oppa; I-I forgot, a-and I’m sorry.”

You get on your knees in front of her. “What could you possibly have been doing that made you forget about your meds, hm?” Jiwoo’s chin gets stuck to her chest as tears begin spilling out. “O-oppa, p-please don’t get angry.” You sigh. “I’m not angry, sweetheart���I’m a bit disappointed, though.”

You ignore Jiwoo’s sobs momentarily to get the bag of medicine from the bedroom, and with it in hand, you kneel in front of her again. “Take them, please,” you say, placing the bag on her thighs. She holds the bag tightly, still unable to calm herself down from getting the brunt of your stern attitude.

You carefully reach for her cheeks, wiping her tears with your thumbs. “Baby, you know I mean well, right? I just want to help you recover as quickly as possible.” Jiwoo sniffles. “B-but you’re still as s-scary as you used to be, oppa.” You sigh again, and you can feel anger dissipating from your mind. “I’m sorry, baby; I didn’t mean it like that.” Jiwoo suddenly hugs you tightly. “Leave your businessman charade at the door; I-I need my boyfriend right now,” she begs. You nod. “Of course, baby.”

You lift Jiwoo on one shoulder—while your free hand grabs the box of garlic bread—and carry her towards the bedroom. You then lower her onto the bed, positioning her to sit right on the edge of it. “Can I entertain you with some garlic bread, baby?” She nods feebly. You guide a piece of bread towards her lips while using your other hand to pet her head tenderly, and Jiwoo rests her head against your shoulder as she munches.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart; I didn’t mean to scare you like that.” Jiwoo hums. “I know you meant well, but there’s something about that stern look of yours that always scares me shitless.” You chuckle a bit. “Yeah, anyway,” you stand up and hand her the bag of medicine, “I want to see you take these meds right now.” Jiwoo does as you demand and takes her pills together with one swig of water from the glass you’ve provided. “Satisfied, my lord?” You scoff. “Yes, I am.”

“Now,” Jiwoo’s voice drops to a sultry tone, “don’t you think I deserve a reward for being such a good girl?” You exhale deeply. “A reward, you say—what kind of reward are you seeking, my sweet?” Jiwoo palms your crotch with one hand. “One that will make me scream until I lose my voice.” She smirks when she notices the way you’re getting hard under her touch.

“Please, daddy.”

Jiwoo beams when your suit jacket falls off your shoulders, going as far as biting her lip—quite sexy, admittedly. She follows your hands as they undo the buttons of your shirt from the top. She halts your movements when your fingers land on your belt. “That’s mine, daddy.” She unlatches your belt and swiftly zip down your trousers.

“Daddy,” she looks up at you with big eyes, “may I…?” Your permission comes in the form of a wordless nod, and that is when Jiwoo yanks your boxers downwards. Her jaw drops when your sizeable and hard cock is laid bare right before her eyes. “I’ve missed you, daddy.” You scoff. “Me or my dick?” Still enamored with your cock, Jiwoo answers, “Yes.”

You gently push Jiwoo backwards, thus making her land on her back on the soft mattress. Jiwoo invites you to touch her further by parting her legs as wide as she can, and you take this most welcome opportunity by placing a finger on her nub. “Oh, fuck.” Jiwoo arches her back at the first contact. “More, please,” she begs. You continue your teasing ministrations for some time, making Jiwoo’s moans become louder.

“Oh, I’m so close, daddy—God, how am I so close already?” With a smirk on your face, you remove your finger from her nub. Jiwoo screams in agony as orgasm eludes her. “No, no, no, please,” she begs tearily, “w-why did you do that, daddy? H-how could you be so mean to me?” You chuckle. “I’m the mean one? Remind me, who decided to break us up?” Jiwoo slams her head onto the pillow in frustration. “I-it was me, daddy; I-I was so selfish and immature.”

Jiwoo moves to sit and guides your hand towards her cheek. “If you want to slap me, oppa, then slap me.” She tenses as you lift your hand, seemingly to prepare to slap her, but she quickly relaxes again when your touch is a soft one. “You know I would never harm you like that.”

Jiwoo rubs against your hand like a cat. “That doesn’t change the fact that it hurt so bad, though,” you say. She nods. “I understand—hell, I still ask myself as to why I decided to leave.” You smile a little, hiding the pain behind a simple charade. “Well, you said you were looking for something I didn’t have.” Jiwoo looks up at you with shiny eyes. “I’ve learned that the safety and comfort you provided were second to none—you were the right person who came at the wrong time.”

For some reason, her declaration sends shiver down your spine; you swear you’ve heard this somewhere before.

“So, what convinced you to take another chance to be with me, baby?” A tear escapes Jiwoo’s eyes. “I long for the warmth and love that only you can provide, my love,” she answers, her voice thick with emotions. “And I just—”

Before she can finish, you crash your lips into hers, thus interrupting her speech. “I love you, Lee Jiwoo; I love you so, so much.” Jiwoo nods as more tears come out of her eyes. “I-I love you too—t-thank you for giving me another chance.”

Jiwoo suddenly pulls you onto the bed with her. “Hold me close, oppa,” she begs, and you comply right away. She lets out whimpers into your chest, showing vulnerability like she would in the past.

“I don’t know if this will help make you feel better, but I never saw anyone when you were away from me,” you confess. Jiwoo looks up at you. “R-really? Y-you kept yourself, erm, clean?” You nod at her question, and that is when she hugs you more tightly than earlier. “You knew we’d get back together, didn’t you, oppa?” You give her a peck on the top of her head. “I guess I did.”

After crying to her heart’s content, Jiwoo pulls away from your embrace. “Now, where were we before you made me cry, oppa?” You chuckle. “Well, I denied your orgasm,” you say. Jiwoo reaches for your arm, grazing it with the tip of her fingers. “Would you be so kind as to let me have an orgasm, daddy?”

“Only if you’ll ride me.”

Jiwoo agrees to your term, straddling your lap without being told twice. “You know, daddy,” she licks her bottom lip, “I didn’t see anyone when you were away from me either.” She bends down until her mouth is next to your ear. “It will feel like you’re popping my cherry again, daddy.”

Your grip on her hips fastens at the prospect of feeling her tight walls around your cock. “Excited, aren’t you, daddy? I know I am—after all, I haven’t felt your glorious cock in so long.” You pinch her waist. “Just get on with it already, hm?” Jiwoo chuckles. “What daddy wants, daddy gets.”

Jiwoo guides you towards her entrance and slowly impales herself on your shaft. “Oh, fuck, I feel like a virgin again.” She moves her hips up and down along your length at a relaxed pace, taking her time to get reintroduced to your size. “Fuck, daddy,” she moans, “fuck, you’re… stronger than before.” You groan heavily at the feeling of being gripped by her tight walls. “And you’re… tighter than before.” Jiwoo’s aroused face is decorated with a satisfied grin. “All for you, daddy.”

After getting used to your shaft, Jiwoo picks up the pace, and it’s getting harder to ignore her cute, bouncing tits. You pull her closer towards you so your lips can reach them. Jiwoo gasps loudly when you nibble her nipple. “Oh, yes, daddy; suck it, nibble it, bite it—do anything you want, daddy.” With her urge in the back of your mind, you increase the stimulation on her tits; you take turns putting each nipple in your mouth to make sure one doesn’t get jealous of the other.

While you’re busy playing with her tits, Jiwoo is busy riding your shaft while moaning loudly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—oh, I’m so close already,” she announces. With an ear-piercing scream (that you’re certain can be heard by her neighbors), Jiwoo comes undone on your lap. In her weak state, she crashes into you, panting so heavily because of the intensity of her orgasm. “I… I’ve missed you, daddy—I’ve missed us.” You grit your teeth as her silky walls spasm wildly around your shaft, as if trying to make you blow inside her. “I-I’ve missed you too, baby,” you reply amidst the heavy pants.

After getting down from the high of orgasm, Jiwoo pulls away slightly; her hair is a mess, her eyes are shiny, but her smile is sweet and soft as always. “Oppa, I want…” she trails off as she tries to string together some words. Your eyebrows rise, urging her to continue. “I don’t know,” she sighs, “I just… I want to be tied to you, if that makes sense.” You think about the meaning of her words. “You want something more serious, baby?” She nods, and your brain comes up with an idea.

“Well, in that case, will you marry me, Lee Jiwoo?”

Your sudden question has her in tears.

“Yes, oppa—a million times yes!” She crashes into you for a tight hug. “I will marry you in this life, the next, and the one after that.” Her answer is as good as you hope, making you shed tears of your own. “I will truly be yours, oppa; your queen, your friend, your everything.” You nod, your cheek rubbing against hers. “Thank you, my love—thank you so, so much.” Your embrace grows tighter as you bask in emotions. “Thank you to you too, oppa,” she replies.

Now that the tears are starting to dry up, Jiwoo rises from your lap, thus letting your still-hard cock slip out. She lies square on her back next to you. “Come on, my king; make love to your queen.” You waste no time to take your rightful place between her spread legs. “Can I—” “Yes,” she interjects. “Come inside, my love; fill me with your essence and make me bear your child.” You chuckle. “Alright, let’s not get ahead of ourselves now, sweetheart.”

Jiwoo was about to say something else, but before the first syllable could leave her lips, your cock invades her lower ones. “Oh, yes, just like that,” she moans out, “make love to me just like that, my lovely king.” You move your hips at an unhurried pace, savoring the sensation of her tightness. “Oh, God, how are you this tight, baby,” you wonder out loud. She chuckles lightly with a blush on her face. “That’s just how much I love you, oppa.”

Jiwoo closes her eyes as the calm lovemaking progresses, finding it more intimate and enjoyable than kinky or rough sex. Quiet hums of approval also leave her lips occasionally amidst the soft moans. “Mm, yes, my love,” she mutters. “But a bit faster, if you don’t mind?” You smile. “Of course, baby.” You turn up the speed of your movements a few notches, thus earning a smile from Jiwoo. “Yes, that’s perfect, love—now, let’s run to the gates of orgasm together.”

Jiwoo’s sexy moans serve as fuel for you in this final stretch of the sprint towards completion, and the signs of orgasm are getting more apparent; you’re starting to throb inside her. “Fill me, my love.” With her permission in the back of your head, you lodge yourself inside her entirely and just… let go.

In your post-orgasm bliss, you fall limply onto Jiwoo, who is also as weak. “Thank you,” you whisper. A soft peck lands on your cheek. “Thank you, oppa,” she returns the gratitude. “It’s now clear to me that I can’t live without you—I mean, no one can understand me like you do.” You hum. “Promise me that you won’t get bored of me again.” Jiwoo sighs. “Saying it was a huge mistake anyway,” she adds.

-

“It is with utmost joy that I introduce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Shin. May their love grow stronger with each passing day.”

The hall that is filled with family members and closest friends explodes into deafening cheers, as those present are as happy as you and Jiwoo are for the new status.

You and her turn towards the crowd, waving at them, and you happen to spot your brother and his wife giving you four thumbs-ups. You put your hand on your chest to express gratitude to them for their wonderful, restless support for the past few months during the preparation of the wedding.

Jiwoo steals your attention by turning your face towards hers. “I love you, my boring husband.” Her words make you burst out laughing. “Boring means safe, yes?” She nods with an eye smile on her face. “Yes, I feel safe with you,” she says. You quickly capture her lips with yours.

“I feel safe with you too, baby, and I love you more.”

[ceilidho]

fear of god

There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 12 masterlist

-

A false moon dictates the coming of night. 

You set up a cot in the medical unit again, going to your quarters to grab a spare set of sheets before returning, Gaz shadowing you the way there and back. His presence scratches at the back of your head, reminding you that he’s there at your back. You don’t ask him why he insists on keeping up this charade of monitoring your behaviour—his motives are as unclear to you as ever.  

“This isn’t necessary,” you finally manage to get out on the walk back to the medbay, the door within sight. 

“I know,” Gaz says simply. 

The door slides open and you enter with him still at your back. “Then why are you following me?”

“Those were Graves’ orders, weren’t they?”

“And you what? Follow his orders now?”

It’s difficult to determine who you actually feel betrayed by. Gaz owes you no debt—it wasn’t you that let him into the ship. The focus of your anger should be on Graves and the rest of the crew, but yet—

Your chest twinges when the door slides shut and Gaz leans against it, no different than a guard posted at the door. 

He shrugs, unbothered by the reproach in your voice. “He’s the commander.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s right.”

“Maybe not.”

“I had nothing to do with Hadir getting sick.”

“I know that.” Your chest deflates when you can’t detect any insincerity behind his words. “But Graves is in charge of the ship and unless you think you could get the others to agree with you, isn’t it better to toe the line for now?”

It would upset you if it were any less true. The hierarchical arrangement of personnel on board has always been clear, and it’s not lost on you that you’ve always hovered near the bottom, falling further from grace with every passing day. Who apart from Gaz and Hadir have been sympathetic towards you in recent weeks anyway? Nikolai’s friendship is an extension of his disposition, an affection easily given and easily taken away. Farah barely even regards you as trustworthy these days, convinced that you’re teetering on the edge of losing your mind.

She might not be wrong. 

Gaz watches you make the bed, settling into your office chair, a mite more comfortable than the stool by the counter. 

“Do you want me to set up a cot for you?” you ask begrudgingly. 

He shakes his head. “Don’t need one.”

“You can sleep comfortably sitting up like that?” 

His smile verges on patronizing. “I don’t need to sleep, love.”

Your skin crawls. You hate when he does that—when he lets you in on your shared secret, the knowledge that he isn’t as human as he appears. Whatever he is still eludes you. Alien or divine. There’s no point in asking though. That knowledge sits beyond your purview. 

You ignore him to the best of your abilities and finish setting up your cot, his words still ringing in your ears. 

Things take a turn for the worse when Hadir stops responding altogether. 

Though his verbal responses have become less and less frequent over the last couple days, the dropoff is significant. As your only patient though, you’ve been monitoring him closely since he was admitted, and you pick up on the change quickly. It’s like an itch under your skin, a sixth sense from working with sick patients for the better part of your adult years. 

Gaz picks up on the change in your mood, sitting up straighter. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you respond through stiff lips. “Something changed.”

The base of your spine tingles when the vital signs monitor suddenly beeps, alerting you to a change in Hadir’s condition.

You flip a switch and press a button on the keyboard, speaking directly to the Ship’s AI. “Ship, what’s the patient’s status?” 

Patient's temperature is unusually elevated

Recommendation to increase fluids and decrease external temperature 

You lift his eyelids and find his pupils irregular, one larger than the other, and they don’t respond properly when you shine a light on them. 

“What can I do?” Gaz asks, as serious as you’ve ever seen him.

“We need to cool him down. His fever is spiking. I’ll get the cooling blanket—there are ice packs in the freezer over there—” You point to a refrigerator on the other side of the room. “—get the ice packs and start packing them around his armpits and groin. We need to get his temperature down while I figure out what the fuck is happening.”

Gaz moves quickly, retrieving the ice packs from the freezer and packing them up against Hadir’s pits and in between his legs under the medical gown. Hadir’s lips flutter reflexively at the cold but that’s as much responsiveness as you get out of him. 

You press the button to speak to the AI again. “Ship, is his temperature coming down?”

Negative

Patient temperature currently: 104°

Even his breathing has changed, his breaths similarly irregular and increasingly shallower. You put in the orders for another CT scan, moving quicker and typing faster than you ever have before. The breathing tube gets put in next to secure his airway and you don’t like the way his gag reflex doesn’t kick in when the tube is shoved down his throat. It signals something dangerous. 

The situation before you doesn’t bode well. Dread clings to the wall in the far corner of the room but you ignore its presence to focus on your work, throwing everything at the walls to see what sticks. 

His labs are all over the place. High fever, low platelets, high D-dimer, high FDPs. An hour passes in a blink with you running test after test to no avail—none of his results that come back make any sense—all while his temperature continues to rise. 

Patient temperature currently: 105°

Plastic backliners flutter to the floor when you rip them off the electrodes, pasting the small metal discs around Hadir’s scalp for the EEG, working as quickly and efficiently as possible. 

“Has his temperature come down yet?” you bark, too preoccupied with your work to chance a glance up at the monitor.

“No,” Gaz says curtly. “Still 105°.”

It’s all happening so quickly that you can’t seem to get your bearings. If it were anyone else on the table, you’d at least have Hadir to assist you; you’re on your own now though, Gaz barely any help to you without any real medical knowledge. 

Your heart pounds against your chest when you notice blood coming up Hadir’s ET tube. A few droplets at first, and then a trickle. 

A horrible, prophetic knowledge falls over you, threatening to collapse you. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Gaz asks.

“I don’t know—” Then his nose starts to bleed and your heart stops. The stain on the front of his gown and what you find underneath it when you lift it up confirms your worst suspicions. “He’s going into DIC—”

“DIC?”

“His blood—”

The AI takes that moment to interject, speaking over you: Patient body has used up all of its clotting factors and will begin to bleed out

Sepsis—a severe infection—an autoimmune response—trauma—cancer—so many different possible answers to explain why Hadir would spontaneously go into disseminated intravascular coagulation, but his labs tell you shit. Nothing makes sense. You can’t explain why he might be hemorrhaging because there isn’t anything in his scans or labs to indicate anything wrong with him.

More blood leaks from his face and nethers, staining the light blue of the bed a dark red. Logical objections halt in the face of the tangible, and blood is tangible. Blood is all you see. 

The final moments are harried, frenzied. You bark orders at Gaz, which he follows militarily, and struggle in vain to keep Hadir’s condition from further deteriorating, but it’s nearly impossible without being able to address the root cause. Transfusions of platelets, fresh frozen plasma, and cryoprecipitate only go so far. 

When his brain activity goes flat on the monitor, your mind goes blank. Static noise fills your head. You slump against the wall, staring at Hadir’s bleeding body on the exam table, still leaking blood from all of his orifices, the sound of the monitor blaring like a siren in your ears. 

“He’s dead,” Gaz says blandly, staring at the body nonplussed. 

“Yeah,” you rasp. Your voice is thick in your throat, devastated. 

There’s blood all over the bed, more in one place than you’ve seen in a long time—not since working in trauma units back on Earth. Every inch of your body aches as the adrenaline recedes, having reached its peak in the throes of Hadir’s final moments, jaw so tight you almost can’t unclench it.

“What happened?” he asks, almost quizzically. 

The curious lack of emotion in his voice doesn’t penetrate through the brain fog. “I don’t know—he just…” 

The weight of all that just happened comes over you swiftly. An hour ago, Hadir was fine for all intents and purposes. Stable. Now, blood stains his chin, the underside of his nose, the front of his gown, and the bed underneath him, the sweat caked on his forehead cooling as the life leaches out of his body. 

Your hands shake by your sides, a violent tremble rolling through you. 

“I don’t get it,” you whisper. 

You should’ve quarantined Hadir from the start, from the very second he was admitted into your care. You should’ve ignored the fact that his labs came back fine that first day and just assumed that the nature of his illness was more severe than it appeared. Shame and dread plunge like a dagger through your midsection.

Protocol should’ve dictated that you initiate a quarantine, but since you didn’t—

You stare at the body on the table, the ET tube streaked with blood.

—your duty now is to ensure that no one else gets sick too. 

You’ll need to seal off the medbay until every surface has been properly decontaminated and then quarantine yourself until you’re sure that you aren’t infected as well. Your eyes flick towards Gaz momentarily before you shoot down the thought of testing him as well. 

Mitigate the transmission. That thought sticks out amongst the rest. The body lying on the bed in the middle of the room is no longer a patient that needs tending to but rather hazardous material that needs to be disposed of lest whatever infected it is transmitted to everyone else on board the ship. 

It’s waste. Filth. And it will contaminate everything on board if you don’t remove it. 

Your body moves on autopilot. You wheel the bed to the ejection chute at the back of the medbay. It takes a series of codes in order to open the door to the chute and you key them in quickly and efficiently. When the door slides open, you raise the bed until it’s slightly higher than the chute, tipping the bed forward in order for the body to slide into it. 

Ejection chute engaged

Hadir’s body disappears into the chute, the reinforced metal and glass sliding shut when the sensors register that the chute door is empty. There’s a thunk from behind the wall as his body is shuttled through the pneumatic tubes towards the back of the ship, and it won’t be more than a minute before the body is projected from the ship entirely. 

Your heart skips a beat when the AI pings awake again.

Object ejected 

“I wouldn't have done that if I were you,” Gaz says, and you flinch at the sound of his voice, momentarily forgetting that someone else is in the room with you. 

Your eyes drift over to him, the room murky for a moment, the air hazy like water, like you’re looking through a film and only just starting to settle back down into your body after watching from overhead. He seems bigger somehow.

“We have to quarantine ourselves,” you say, frantically towards one of the cupboards and ripping it open, pulling out rolls of plastic to plaster over the door. “We didn’t put on any PPE, so we might’ve been exposed to whatever Hadir had.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.”

His lips are turned up at the corners when you look over, frowning, but noise in the hallway keeps you from following up on his remark. 

The announcement over the intercom must have alerted the others, and you hear footsteps from down the hall seconds before they arrive, boots clanking against the metal flooring. When the door slides open and you see Farah standing there with Alex at her back, her face hauntingly vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before, words fail you. 

“What happened?” Farah asks. 

“I don’t know. He was fine just a second ago and then—”

“Where is he?” she demands, scanning the room for him. “Where’s Hadir?”

“I—” The words get tangled up in your throat, terror and shame making it hard enough to breathe, never mind speak. 

Graves barrels in a second later, flushed and out of breath. He must have been in the cockpit when the intercom alerted him to the ejection chute being utilized. Nikolai is fast on his heels, less winded but just as concerned. 

You realize that from the direction Nikolai came, he must’ve been at the back of the spacecraft, and you morbidly wonder if he heard the sound of Hadir’s body ferrying through the pneumatic tube system.

“Doctor, what did you just throw out of the chute?” Graves asks, his tone hard and uncompromising, softened only by the breathless note in his voice from running halfway across the ship. 

You don’t answer.

His eyes lift to the space over your shoulder, where the patient bed is flush to the wall, the head level with the chute leading out of the ship. Blood still saturates the mattress. 

You watch as the knowledge of what you’ve done dawns on them, realization morphing into distress and horror. From behind Farah, Alex goes ashen, a hand clamping down on her shoulder to hold her in place before she realizes what you’ve done and the inevitable happens. You see it play out in your head like a movie. 

“Farah—” he starts, but any effort to steer her out of the room is thwarted by how quickly she comes to the same conclusion. 

“Where’s my brother?” Farah screams, and you wince, your head aching like there’s something else in there listening to her scream too. 

Alex has to hold her back from lunging at you, fighting to keep her in his arms, her body thrashing wildly. You’ve never seen her like this before. Grief and rage strip her of stoicism, and when her screams turn to tears, it rips a hole right through you. 

“You ejected Hadir from the ship?” Graves breathes, stunned. 

Nikolai just stares, at a loss for words. You’ve never seen any of them so obviously affected, so contrary to the image of them that you’ve carried with you in your mind for months. 

“I had to!” you shout, vocal cords tearing under the strain. “We couldn’t keep his body on board! What if it was some hemorrhagic fever—like ebola? Or worse?”

“You don’t even know what killed—” Graves roars before stopping abruptly, squeezing his eyes shut. He presses his fist to his mouth, the skin around his knuckles bone white. 

“We need to quarantine.” Your fingers tremble when you press them to your temples, flinching when you realize that your gloves are still covered in blood. “I was going to seal off the room to keep it from spreading, but now that you’re all here, we’re probably all been infected—”

“Infected by what?” 

“I don’t know.” 

A shade is falling over you. Everything feels raw, livid—a wound being prodded. The light hurts your eyes when you lift them from the floor to meet Graves’ gaze. Even the air feels caustic against your skin. 

Even your impulses don’t feel like your own, like there is some

insidious rot

fruiting under your skin.

“Are you going to say anything to them?” you finally snap at Gaz, desperation loosening your tongue. “You were here—you saw what happened. Why aren’t you telling them what happened?”

The others turn to look at him, orienting like sunflowers towards the sun. It’s the only comparison that comes to mind. And at the centre of them, Gaz stares back at you, an ersatz approximation of confusion. 

He gives a slow blink, eyes glinting with something unknown. “Tell them what? That you tossed Hadir out into space?” 

You should’ve expected that you’d be left hanging, but the reality of it is unbearable. Humiliating. 

You know what you look like to them: dangerous, erratic. Your paranoia on full display. Even Nikolai’s mouth is set in a grim line.

You can hear the accusations flying through their minds—that you caused this somehow. Overdosed him on anti-clotting medication and let him bleed out, then disposed of the body before a proper autopsy could be performed. That maybe you prolonged his illness, knowing it would lead to this.  

It happens swiftly and without word, as if planned ahead of time. Nikolai and Graves lunge towards you suddenly, grabbing you by the undersides of your arms and nearly lifting you off your feet when they haul you forcibly out of the room. Alex still has Farah trapped in his arms in the corner of the room when they drag you past her. 

“Farah, I’m sorry—I’m sorry—” 

You’re not strong enough to break free of Graves’ and Nikolai’s hold though, so you’re carried off before Farah can say anything. There’s only a split second for your eyes to lock and for you to see something broken beyond recognition there, and then the door cuts you off from her.

“You’re all fucking insane—let me go—” you scream, spittle flying from your mouth. The scream that tears out of you is so animalistic and loud that your throat squeezes up in protest, a cough forcing its way out. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Down the hall and towards the back of the ship. Boots echo against the metal floors, the two men on either side of you in sync with each other. Neither says a word nor responds to your screams. Their patience with your increasingly unhinged behaviour has finally crossed a threshold once thought impossible, your reputation alone no longer enough to save you. 

They all but throw you into the brig, the metal door clanging shut behind you when you’re dropped to your hands and knees, peering over your shoulder to find Nikolai punching in the key to lock and arm the door, a rueful, pained look on his face.

“Nikolai, please—” you beg, crawling to the door and curling your hands around the bar. “It wasn’t my fault—I didn’t kill Hadir. I’m sorry! He could’ve made everyone on board sick if we’d kept the body! Please, Nikolai, please—”

Your pleas fall on deaf ears. The last sound you hear is the brig door slamming shut and then their footsteps gradually recede into the distance.

[tsunodaradio]

a good run ⛐ 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

♫ you swore that you loved me, but where were the clues? i died on the altar waiting for the proof.

ꔮ starring: lewis hamilton x ex-girlfriend!reader. ꔮ social media au. ꔮ includes: angst. silverstone race [mclaren!lewis], post-breakup dynamics, heavily inspired by taylor swift's so long, london. ꔮ commentary box: this one goes out to @binisainz, who matches my freak on so many levels. i love you (and i'm sorry). i promise to dedicate happier work for you in the near future. x 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

lewishamilton Silverstone weekend. 🏠🇬🇧 Send good vibes ~ Liked by olliebearman, francolapinto, and others

user1 IT'S SILVERSTONEEE LFG!!! user2 lock in g you got this ❤️🙌👏 georgerussell63 Best of luck mate 👊 ⤷ user3 great day to be a mercedes fan ⤷ user4 y'all act like they aren't co-drivers user5 is nobody going to talk about the elephant in the room ⤷ user6 wot m8 ⤷ user5 user6 isn't it hamilton's first time back in GB since. You Know ⤷ user7 user5 user6 OMG Just say it outright??? Since HIS BREAK UP.

from: +44 *** ***** ****** Hi, it's Lewis. I don't actually know if you still have my number, sooo. Should I still be introducing myself? from: +44 *** ***** ****** Anyway that's obviously not why I'm texting. I'm sure you know what this weekend is. from: +44 *** ***** ****** That's probably not how I should have started. I just mean to say I'm in London this week and I'd love if we could meet up. Coffee, maybe? Let me know ✌🏾

yourusername i'm just getting color back into my face / i'm just mad as hell 'cause i loved this place Liked by lewishamilton and others user8 youch that caption... 🤕 user9 OMG lewishamilton LIKED?! ARE THEY BACK TOGETHER ⤷ user10 Wasn't Lewis seen with someone else at Monaco??? user11 Can y'all please leave this poor girl alone. Lol. Being an ex-WAG is hard enough. gmz Hamilton's Former Beau Gets Cryptic Ahead Of Silverstone?! Link to read in our bio 🔗 ⤷ user11 yo gmz get a life maybe ⤷ user12 The link isn't working! user13 yourusername will you be at silverstone 🥺 we miss seeing you trackside, queen

from: +44 *** ***** ****** Hi, Lewis again. I'm not sure if you're getting my texts but they are going through so I assume they're still fine? This is a bit out of the blue but I saw some comments on your recent post. from: +44 *** ***** ****** I know when we broke up you said you wanted it mostly lowkey, so that's why we haven't really done much outside of that first press release. But I just want you to know that if you want me to say anything else about the people camping out on your page, I can. In a heartbeat from: +44 *** ***** ****** I mean, least I could do right? Haha from: +44 *** ***** ****** Would still love to grab coffee with you. Or anything, really. Is Shack-Fuyu still any good out there in Soho? I remember how much you loved that place. Hope to hear back from ya

Excerpt from TMZ's Hamilton's Former Beau Gets Cryptic Ahead Of Silverstone?!

... The long-term couple officially headed to Splitsville last year, confirmed via an Instagram story Lewis posted! The story, which featured a black and white photo of the former WAG, bore the heartbreaking caption:

yourusername and I are two best friends who have decided to part ways as a couple. We had a good run of six years that I personally would not trade for anything in the world. yourusername remains to be one of the best things that has ever happened to me, bar none. Please respect our privacy during this time; we do not intend to comment any further on this matter. Thank you.

The announcement came as a shock to the entire grid; the two had just bought a London apartment months prior, sparking rumors that wedding bells were on the horizon.

A source with direct knowledge tells TMZ that Hamilton initiated the breakup, citing plans to focus on his career. The Brit reportedly wasn't very enthusiastic about the split despite being the one to pull the plug; why, we'll never know. A man of his word, Hamilton has remained tight-lipped on the details of the split.

Looks like this is just another symptom of being on the top of the world. Can't be a champion and in love! — FIN.

from: +44 *** ***** ****** Silverstone won't be the same without you. from: +44 *** ***** ****** I'll stop now. I'm sorry. I really am.

to: +44 *** ***** ****** race safe, lewis. Seen

lewishamilton 945 days since the last win and it's finally come home. There's no crowd that deserves this more. Means so much. Silverstone, I'm all yours. Always and forever. Liked by mercedesamgf1, yourusername, and others

user14 I'M NOT CRYING YOU ARE user15 The Greatest Of All Time 💜🐐 user16 not to be that person, but yourusername liked this post and now i'm sobbing ⤷ user17 mama y papa :( scuderiaferrari ❤️ ⤷ user18 BRO CHILL WE STILL GOT TIME

from: +44 *** ***** ****** Did you see? to: +44 *** ***** ****** :) to: +44 *** ***** ****** through goes hamilton. from: +44 *** ***** ****** Through goes. from: +44 *** ***** ****** I did more than race safe. from: +44 *** ***** ****** I raced for you.

yourusername ★ Only people on your Close Friends list will be able to see this story.

Seen by yourfriend, lewishamilton, and others

from: +44 *** ***** ****** Where to? from: +44 *** ***** ****** Actually, you don't have to answer that. You don't owe me anything. from: +44 *** ***** ****** I apologize for the way I've behaved this whole weekend. I suppose I just missed you. from: +44 *** ***** ****** *Miss you. Still. Sorry. from: +44 *** ***** ****** The old landlord actually told me about you moving out. I didn't know how to broach the topic with you or if I was allowed to. But I guess this is it, huh? I'm going from knowing you're in England to not knowing where you are at all. from: +44 *** ***** ****** I suppose I'll have to do my absolute best in every race now. Just in case you're at that one. from: +44 *** ***** ****** I'm running out of things to say.

to: +44 *** ***** ****** take care of yourself, lewis. from: +44 *** ***** ****** You, too.

+44 *** ***** ****** Maybe: Lewis

Block this Caller

You will not receive phone calls, messages, or Facetime from people on the block list. Block Contact

For so long, London Had a good run A moment of warm sun But I'm not the one So long, London ⛐

[formosusiniquis]

something to talk about

Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington wc: 2223 | T | Tags/Themes: Gossip, Stobin Banter and Best Friendism, a Hint of Pre-Bubblescoops a late addition for @stobinmonth day 1: gossip. AO3

Robin had been introduced to gossip through band. Which made her infuriatingly difficult to impress.

Steve was good at gossip. No, the best at it.

When he dropped Tommy, and by extension lost Carol, he went from Steve: the guy who could put together a killer party in his big empty house to what he actually was Steve: nice guy, but a little… The trailing off was usually paired with some kind of hand gesture. One that could mean a bunch of different things, and didn’t get any nicer when he started flinching when the fluorescents flickered during tornado season. 

But he had gossip as social capital.

He made it through that last year bouncing lunch table to lunch table whispering with the cheerleaders or the swim team about break-ups, make-ups, and who’d gotten busted with their latest purchase from Munson on their way back from the picnic table.

But band gossip was something else.

There was a social hierarchy beyond cheerleaders who bounced from football player to basketball when the seasons changed. It was more like the politics from the bodice rippers that he snuck off his Mom’s shelf.

It wasn’t just that Becky G. got caught getting fingered on the bus coming back from the away game. It’s that she’s a french horn and the guy was a percussionist. A word Robin hissed through her teeth like he should know what it meant.

Terri Miller wasn’t just pregnant. She’d gotten pregnant during the band camp social week at the Boy Scout campground. So the dad could be any one of four different guys, and if she didn’t guess right they would definitely know when those nine months were up.

The band was apparently some kind of den of sin and Robin still hadn’t managed to get any. Which was probably as unbelievable as the fact that any of this was happening in the first place.

Telling her that Mrs. Johnson was having an affair with Pat James, a second string baseball player who was young enough to be her son and not even that good looking -- a buzz cut with ears that stuck out from his head like dumbo -- had been met with the most unimpressed look he’d seen since they left Scoops.

“An affair, Steve, really?” She’d said. “Who cares about an affair? Something happened with the trombones and the flutes, the flutes, during Social Week and I still can’t piece together what happened since I missed the biggest week of the year because of all that Upside Down stuff.”

“You’re upset about missing out on some band drama? Not losing your sense of safety, trust in the American government, or your ability to sleep through the night?”

“I only had one of those things before all this. Now I can’t sleep and no one will tell me what’s going on with this cross-instrument family drama.”

Now that they’re in Indy it’s a little different.

It turns out in college even band kids have to study. And, much like underage drinking, some of the fun of a week-long orgy came from the threat of parent disapproval and disappointment.

Now Steve picks up his fair of strange half-conversations and relationship drama at the coffee shop he works at in the morning. Robin catches whisperings of affairs between students and professors. At night, when they barback at the lesbian bar Steve wandered into on accident right after they moved or when they’re curled up on the sofa Robin found at the thrift store two days after they signed on the apartment, they’ll share the best of what they’ve heard.

“No, Profesor Williams is the one with the weird eyes who teaches Philosophy. You��re thinking of the Music Theory professor and he’s definitely got a secret family somewhere but it’s with an age appropriate woman not a co-ed.”

“Green tea with extra lemon was leaning all over Black Coffee this morning when just last week he came in with that babe with the dark hair and glasses. One of them is his wife and the other is his girlfriend, but I haven’t figured out which one is which.”

“The pianist that’s always taking up the practice room is failing Chemistry 101 and when she tried to seduce the TA he reported her to the dean for academic misconduct. She’s a bitch but she’s also the only pianist in the program that can keep time, so I’ve got mixed feelings.”

“Americano and a muffin was telling his douchy coworker who never tips about how he got his secretary pregnant. She wants him to leave his wife, but he’s trying to decide if it’s worth it to keep her on or to hire and train a new girl. It made me remember I forgot to call my Dad’s secretary for his birthday.”

It gets them through the night but gossiping about strangers doesn’t have the same thrill as gossiping about shared classmates and the sort-of friends they'd known since Kindergarten. Doesn’t have the thrill of learning something new and excitingly interesting or terrible about someone they got to then see everyday.

It’s femoral or whatever Robin was saying about why she gets sad when she finishes her book. It doesn’t last and unlike the neat conclusion of the bodice rippers that moved with him from Hawkins -- he has a soft spot for the duchesses who get seduced by rogues and scoundrels, sue him -- the bits and pieces they get are unconnected from any other point in these people’s lives. He probably won’t get to see if Americano’s secretary gets an abortion or if she keeps the baby. Robin might get to see if the professor who has a taste for blondes who've just turned 18 gets busted, but it all depends on her schedule for the next semester.

Which makes what he has for her today perfect. More than perfect, it’s going to be something that’ll actually leave Robin impressed. She might even gape instead of just half-smiling with a single eyebrow raised, her mouth saying “oh wow” while her face says, ‘I’ve heard better.’ There is no better this time. This one might change everything.

“Guess who I saw today?”

“You’re coming from work to work so can be here til close tonight before you open at the job you just left tomorrow morning. There are doctors who work shorter hours than you are this week. Why are you so excited?” Robin uses the well bottle of tequila to point accusingly at him. Not answering the question he asked or even engaging with  his exciting news.

“It’s coffee, Robin. Four shots of espresso will fix anything. Now guess.”

“That guy who basically orders chocolate milk with a splash of coffee and found out his wife was sleeping with his twin brother?”

“No, I haven’t seen him since he saw them out the window that day.”

“Latte with cinnamon? Did he actually ask you out instead of just dropping his wallet condom on the counter when he was trying to pay?”

“No.” He says, that one is pretty tragic. That guy had been hot. The butch across from him clears her throat and he goes back to shaking her martini. “Try again.”

“I don’t like this game.” Robin winks at the blonde at the bar, handing her a shot like what she was saying to him was some kind of line for her.

He debates whether or not it’s worth it actually making her guess again. Steve’s himness has been fluid enough that he does get the occasional number while working here; he isn't sure he wants Robin to continue announcing his dating failures for anyone to overhear. 

“Carol Perkins.”

That slows her hand mid-pour; the vampy looking femme in front of her is getting her money’s worth on her vodka soda.

“Are you thinking of trading down,” Robin asks finally, tucking the tip she gets into the jar and the phone number into her pocket.

“Jealous, you know you’re my only girl.”

“Tell that to Brenda and Debbie and Melanie and Stacy…”

“Only one that matters.”

“Why do I care that you saw Carol Perkins for the first time in years?” Robin says, the only hint that this is actually a question she wants answered is the tick at the edge of her brow and the hand on her hip.

And because Steve is an ass, he’ll say it, he takes his time answering. Mixes a margarita, pours a Long Island, tells someone too young to be here that she’d be better with a coke than a cosmo. When the smoke is pouring out of Robin’s ears, when she’s trying to make it seem like she’s ignoring him now he tells her what he’s been dying to all day.

“She had a carabiner on her purse.”

“A carabiner?”

“On her purse.”

“Kinda defeats the purpose,” Robin says with her nose trying its hardest to stay out of the air.

“Depends on the purpose, doesn’t it?”

“Is Carol cute?” The leather dyke Steve had been pulling a beer for asks.

“Yeah,” he says, easy.

Not that it can be heard over the way Robin snaps, “She’s not your type.” Something snarling and possessive that Steve hasn’t seen since his last date tried to intrude on their SteveAndRobin time crossing her face and curling her lip.

“She’s vapid,” she says in response to Steve’s smile which says just as much as his words would have been able to, at least to her. 

“Sure.”

“And mean. And she always had that gum in her mouth.”

“Those were all true things about her when she was sixteen. The same year you had that perm.”

“Don’t even act like you remember that, Steven Marie Harrington. You had to look it up in the yearbook when you found out.”

“You want me to give her our number.”

“I want you to come back to me with actual gossip instead of whatever this is.”

“So you don’t want to hear about how she told Black tea with sugar that she transferred to IU after a bad breakup with her partner.”

“Nope.”

“Don’t want to hear how she asked me if I knew anyone up here when she was at the register?”

“Why would I care?”

He shrugs, lets it seem like he’s distracted grabbing a fresh bottle of vodka from their stash. “I mean she had some questions about you and what you were doing. Seemed pretty interested, thought you might be too.”

“You’re my least favorite person in the world,” she lies. 

“Consider this payback from when you told me the guy at the library was flagging. I walked to campus just to watch him make out with his girlfriend.”

“I said I was sorry, Mark from my History class said-”

“Mark from your History class was the same guy who tried to play devil’s advocate for person breeding-”

“Eugenics,” she corrects with a wince.

“Mark from History class does not get to be a source for information anymore.”

“Were you wearing your glasses? Cause if you weren’t you don’t get to be a source of information either. Who wears a carabiner on their purse? It could have been a really big safety pin.”

“I can’t believe you’re doubting me.”

“It’s not doubt.”

“It is. I told her where we work.”

“What?” The bottle she’s holding slips from her hand, bouncing on the rubber mat beneath their feet. It doesn’t break but the beer foams and froths as it spills onto the already sticky floor. Robin snatches another bottle, opening it with her ring and handing it off quickly to the woman across from her.

“I told her where we work.” He puts a heavy and weighted pause between each slowly drawn out word.

“I heard you.”

“Then why-”

“You why!”

“Me why! Because there was a carabiner on her purse Robin! Carol likes-”

She slaps her hand across his mouth for just a second, just long enough for it to feel less like a hint than hit. “Don’t finish that sentence here or ever.”

“She could like you, I’m telling you she seemed interested when she learned you were in town with me. That I knew you.”

“So you gave her directions to a dyke bar out of the goodness of your heart.”

“There was nothing good in my heart, it was out of my desire to get you laid.”

“I can get laid all by myself.” Robin snaps, louder than she should. Even with the din of the bar it sounds loud.

“I bet you can,” the voice that answers is as familiar to Steve as Robin’s. The smug and teasing way it curls around what it’s saying. Carol, smirking, with an elbow against the bar and the light catching her hair like a flame.

“I’m just going to go down here,” Steve says, ignoring the way Robin glares like she wants him to be the one aflame. “The opposite side of the bar could use some attention, so you’ve got this, Rob. Care, good to see you again.”

“Steve,” Carol greets and dismisses. “I’ll be sure to give you all something new to gossip about tomorrow.”

“You’ll have your work cut out for you. She’s got a high tolerance for that sort of thing, it may take you all night.”

“I’ll give you something to talk about.”

[its-luna-noel]

took a sip of what's drowning us | satosugu

Suguru tries to get a fresh start after the KFC breakup. Satoru holds a bit of a grudge.

tags: au - no curses, post-breakup, fresh starts, yandere!gojo, bottom gojo, knife play, smut, major character death, angst, hurt/no comfort

word count: 1.9k

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hello again! this is part 3 to the year of the otp event for this year; i hope you enjoy! i had a lot of fun writing this one (i'm a bottom gojo truther till i die).

Suguru isn’t happy, but he’s trying.

He tries to tell himself that it’s normal to feel like this; it’s only been a week since he broke up with Satoru on that busy street in Shinjuku, and although he’s relieved to be in a new place – he already moved out of his old apartment they shared – the sudden emptiness still gets to him at times. He misses the good times, the times when things weren’t so complicated and they could just have a laugh together.

But those times are over, now.

And so he moves on. Or he tries to, at least. He buries himself in his work, arriving at the tattoo shop for his apprenticeship early every morning and leaving late into the night, a new sleeve of fake skin beautifully decorated with black ink.

Then the next morning starts the same way.

As he unlocks the front door of the shop, keys jingling as he fumbles with them, the owner of the next-door flower shop sidles up beside him, flashing a friendly smile. “Morning, Suguru,” they say in a sleepy voice.

“Morning, Hanami,” he greets amiably, smiling back. “How are you this morning?”

They yawn, shrugging slightly. “Alright. You?”

“Just fine, thanks.” He swings the door open, shoving his keys into his pocket. “Have a good day!”

“You, too, Suguru.” Their eyes linger on him for just a moment longer before they duck inside the flower shop, disappearing to start their day.

Suguru smiles to himself, shaking his head. This is exactly what he needs: a fresh start.

He heads over to his station and starts on sketches, trying to build his own flash as his apprenticeship starts to ramp up. Soon he’ll be able to tattoo on his own clients, which he’s excited for.

It’s a strange feeling, to look forward to something after all this time.

So for now he sticks with his fake skin, getting used to holding the tattoo gun and figuring out his own style.

Little does he know, the next day Hanami will go missing under mysterious circumstances. Until their body is found in their apartment dumpster, mutilated and cut apart in an obvious crime of passion, of rage, of revenge.

Suguru feels the loss like an open wound. It’s just one more thing he’s lost in such a short amount of time.

It’s not until he’s awoken in the dead of night that he finally understands what’s happening.

There’s a creaking noise, like a slow, deliberate footstep on his floorboards. Suguru tries to jolt out of bed, reaching blindly in the darkness for anything he can use for a weapon, because he’s not going to be next, not after Hanami–

Then there’s a body on his, and Suguru lets out a yelp when chilling metal is pressed against his throat. But the body feels familiar, feels like coming home, and Suguru’s body stiffens against the bed.

“Satoru,” he hisses through his teeth, panic quelling in favor of frustration and bewilderment, “what the hell?”

A grin like the flash of a knife, and Satoru leans in, his breath warm against Suguru’s cheek. “Hey, babe,” he whispers, and the sharp edge of the blade digs just a little bit deeper, enough to make Suguru swallow nervously. “Didn’t you miss me?”

“Satoru,” he repeats himself, his voice wavering nervously, “get out.”

Satoru pouts, and the expression is almost cute, but his stunning eyes are wild and dangerous as they flicker down to watch the knife against Suguru’s beautiful throat. God, the desire to see red flowing, to lean down and taste… It’s almost overwhelming.

Suguru fights to swallow again. His voice is surprisingly even when he asks, “What are you doing with that?”

Satoru grins again, and he licks his teeth, humming under his breath. The sound is almost thoughtful. “Just saying hi. You know you always liked it when I was a bit of a freak.”

Suguru feels his cheeks flush pink, but he just grits his teeth and says, “A bit? This is crossing several lines.”

Satoru’s quiet for a long moment. Then, in a voice that’s almost sad, regretful, “I missed you.”

Suguru’s heart clenches, but he doesn’t let up. He asks incredulously, “So you decided to break into my apartment and threaten me?”

“I’m not threatening you.” Satoru says it like it’s obvious. “I’m getting you back.”

“Oh, and the knife is just for shits and giggles,” Suguru remarks sarcastically.

Satoru’s smile returns, and he leans back in, breath fanning over Suguru’s face again. “I already told you, it’s ‘cause you know you like it.” His lips brush against Suguru’s.

Suguru’s entire body stiffens, and he has to hold back a groan, because despite everything, he’s been dreaming about those lips for days. Been dreaming about his body pressing up against his, wrapped around his, and – he has to admit – been dreaming about this absolute freak.

Satoru’s right – he always has been. And Suguru’s always been obsessed.

Satoru can see the internal conflict in those violet eyes, can see how he’s struggling, how badly he wants to give in. And something inside Satoru rejoices, because despite everything, despite all the ways he’s fucked up, Suguru still wants him, even if it’s deep down.

That just means he has to dig it out of him.

So he leans down a little further, and he parts his lips to lick a slow, sensual stripe over Suguru’s mouth. Suguru shudders beneath him, holding back a moan at the sensation of his hot tongue on his lips, and his fingers tightly grip the sheets beneath him as Satoru nips at his lower lip.

“Tell me I can kiss you,” Satoru whispers against his mouth.

Suguru shivers again, before reaching up one hand and grabbing the back of Satoru’s head. Then he crushes his lips against Satoru’s, and both of them let out soft, mirrored groans of pleasure at finally coming back together.

Satoru removes the knife from Suguru’s neck, but not without shallowly slicing a cut across his skin. Suguru hisses in slight pain, but he just buries the noise against Satoru’s mouth, his lips parting. His tongue brushes against Satoru’s, tasting and wanting, and Satoru returns the movement with desperation of his own. Satoru’s hands are already tearing at Suguru’s sweatpants, and Suguru growls low in his throat before he rips off Satoru’s shirt, tossing it to the side.

Fingers roam over familiar features, reacquainting themselves with the body against them.

Once Suguru’s sweatpants are off, thrown to the opposite side of the bed, Satoru reaches down to his own joggers and pushes them down his muscular thighs. In one slow movement, he frees his own aching cock from his boxers, the tip blushing pink in anticipation of what's coming.

Suguru knows they shouldn’t be doing this. Knows how this ends, knows it doesn’t change a damn thing between them. But he’s desperate, he needs Satoru like he needs air to breathe, and so he grabs Satoru by the hips and grinds him down onto his dick.

Suguru groans. Satoru whimpers.

Satoru reaches over to the nightstand and searches around for lube. When he finds some, he hands it to Suguru and lets him slowly stretch him open with his fingers, lubricating Satoru’s waiting hole.

He’s already opening up for him.

Then, when he’s ready, Suguru guides Satoru’s hips down onto his waiting cock, the blunt head slowly pushing inside. Satoru moans pathetically, like he always does, and Suguru can’t help the breathless chuckle at the melody of his voice.

It’s slow, aching. Satoru would call it loving.

Once Suguru has bottomed out, his balls flush against Satoru’s ass, both of them moan again, panting heavily. Then Satoru lifts up onto his knees, slowly pulling himself up off of Suguru’s dick until only the tip is left inside.

“It was always going to end like this, baby,” Satoru whispers passionately, head falling back as his hips rock down onto Suguru’s, stretching himself open on his veiny length. “Was always going to be us, just like this.”

“Satoru,” Suguru chokes out, hands unconsciously coming to grip his ass. His fingers tighten into muscular flesh.

Satoru practically snarls, gripping Suguru’s hair and yanking his head back. “Say it again.”

Suguru moans loudly, lashes fluttering closed in ecstasy. “Satoru,” he repeats, and he feels Satoru pull back his hips, movements achingly slow, before dropping himself back down onto Suguru’s aching cock. Satoru’s moaning, too, but it sounds feral, like he’s fucking himself in an animalistic frenzy. He leans down to bite at Suguru’s throat, to leave bruising marks right above the red welt his knife left.

Suguru keens, his head falling back against the pillows as he plants his feet on the mattress and starts fucking up into Satoru’s hole. He’s no longer allowing the slow pace, instead chasing their highs with a brutal intensity. Satoru’s mouth pauses its attack on his throat, and all he can do is moan and whine into the crook of his neck. He just takes the punishing thrusts, clenching around Suguru hard enough to make his lover grunt and groan.

“Feels so good,” Satoru gasps against Suguru’s shoulder, pushing his hips into Suguru’s to force him even deeper. “Oh my god.”

“Fuck,” Suguru grits through his teeth. He rams his hips even faster, over and over again. It’s enough to make Satoru drool, spit dripping from the corner of his mouth until his tongue lolls out to catch it. “Gonna cum.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Satoru pants, shoulders heaving as he nods desperately. “Cum inside me, Suguru. Please.”

Suguru groans, his body arching as he does, and he cums, painting Satoru’s insides in white. At the sensation of Suguru’s perfect cock twitching inside him, at the sight of his blissed out expression, Satoru shudders with his own orgasm, ropes of cum spurting over Suguru’s muscular belly.

They pant heavily, in synchrony, perfectly in tune, as always.

As they come down, Suguru slowly helps Satoru off of his softening dick, making him whimper softly. Then he turns over and lets him get comfortable in bed, covering up his limp body with the blankets.

Satoru can’t help but smile as he closes his eyes. He’s gotten him back, he thinks. His Suguru.

But in the stillness comes a soft voice. “Satoru,” Suguru whispers from beside him, and Satoru can hear the anguish in his voice. “We can’t keep doing this.”

Satoru stiffens a little at his words. “Keep doing what?”

“Keep thinking things will change. It’s…it’s not going to.” Satoru stays silent, and Suguru speaks again, his voice mournful and melancholic. “We’re not good for each other, Satoru.”

He hisses, “We’re the only ones for each other.”

This time Suguru remains quiet, and neither of them speak again. Suguru slowly falls asleep, and Satoru wishes he could follow.

Instead, in the silence of night, Satoru reaches blindly into the darkness, fingers gripping the hilt of his blade. His fingers flex, and he wonders if this is really what he wants. He’s never wanted to hurt Suguru, even if that’s what they’ve been destined to do their entire lives.

But if he can’t be with Suguru in this life, then maybe the next will have to do.

So Satoru lifts the knife, aiming under ribs, and when he pushes inside his lover, blood runs slick. Suguru makes one last choking noise, gurgling into the darkness, violet eyes wide as they meet startling blue.

Then, nothing. And for a moment, Satoru is left alone, just like last time.

So, in the stillness, Satoru turns his knife on himself, and follows Suguru into their next life, hoping his sins won’t condemn him to repeating the cycle over again.

thank you for reading! -luna xx link to ao3

[dragon-flies-72]

Okay since I'm bored and need to boast about the fics I've read lately, here is an ongoing list of some of my favourite Dr Stone fics (most of these will probably have SenGen):

us, together (we're all in) by chibyeol (minitala)

Hand down one of the best fics ive read this year, I was HOOKED onto every word when reading this, I love badass Gen

Bad Luck by Cooliceprincess

The author notes in this genuinly add so much to the story and the plot is utterly amazing. I LOVE this one so much I am so mad i just found it

Games People Play by PipsAhoy

This one is adorable and honestly 90% fluff the plot is amazing and totally something these idiots would get stuck in.

The Love of A Father by Jeireilost

This one is so sad, honestly something that I could imagine happening. Get this man his Dad back.

cheers to the tin man by Pixim

OH BOY THIS ONE. Look this fic actually left me in a daze for the rest of the day, the story is so addicting and UGH im obsessed. Like probably one of my top recs for fics in Dr Stone because its insane.

These next few are all apart of a Series:

quantum entanglements by MistressEast

This has become one of my comfort fics in this fandom, I adore this style of fic writing and the detail in the fic is incredible

A Voyage of Two by Jeireilost

This is pure goodness, I love the plot they just get a well deserve break and its honestly so fluffy im in love

Science and Mentalism by Killthespare

Hands down the best Hanahaki fic ive ever read. The concept was so so clever and their explanations kinda felt like Senku was explaining them to me. Even if you arent into Dr Stone its such a good fic.

Also bc I can everyone check out EndlessFangirl and Widow_Spyder

Litterally the go tos for any Dr Stone fics I love their fics so so much. They both do a range of ships and they simply deserve the attention :)

Anyways there are more fics I need to read which might make it onto this list but these are some of my favs, all my love to the authors youve litterally made my weeks with these!

[aprillikesthings]

So I think about Catra and Adora's first time a lot.

Like, okay: first of all, they've wanted each other for how long? How long have they both been lying to themselves and/or other people about how badly they desire each other? I'm sure it started when they were teenagers (ha, and I love how many canon-based fics mention this, that at some point the locker room/showers became a source of mutual, unspoken torture), but at least they were friends then, able to rough-house a bit, and Catra could sleep at Adora's feet.

But then The Sword happens and they spend multiple years apart--and still unable to resist chasing each other in fights. Because fighting is still better than not seeing each other at all, right? But then the portal happens, and they stop even seeing each other.

And those weeks after the Cat gets Saved, the start of them flirting and teasing that's not hidden in taunts and fighting ("did you just jump in fire for me?"), and now there's tons of casual touching ("yeah Adora, concentrate!") but Does it mean something else? Does it? Does it? DOES IT? The agony of not knowing, the risk of being wrong--we even see Catra have that meltdown about it!

The relief and joy of finding their love and desire reciprocated!!!

BUT

I know some people think it takes them weeks or even months to work up to having sex, and I get why. I know I'm in the "it was a few days, tops" camp. But I understand why people disagree.

Because holy shit, the combo of "I've wanted you for as long as I've been capable of wanting" and "our first kiss saved the universe," that just puts so much pressure on their first times being good!

First times are stressful enough!! Do they want this? Am I any good at it? Is this how they like it? Is this how I like it? How do I ask for them to do something different? Is my body what they were expecting or hoping for? What if I'm so nervous I can't enjoy it? What if I take too long to come?

So for Catra and Adora it's also "what if I've wanted this for this long, and then it's Bad/I do it wrong/she doesn't like it/we're not good together"

But also "what if our first kiss saved the universe....and then everything after that sucks"

Add Catra's fear around vulnerability and Adora's desperate desire to please while never thinking of herself and things can get tricky! We can be honest about that! They're both going to struggle with wanting things, with asking for them.

Which is why I think the two most likeliest scenarios are: One, "impulsively go for it the moment they get enough time alone," just to push through that fear all at once--but also because if things are in fact good right away, and then the next thing is good, and the next thing--I just can't see them stopping.

(It's also why there's just SO MANY fics where their first time is "kissing that gets desperate and leads to grinding on each other's thighs," because god forbid they not be in physical contact with as much of each other's bodies as possible)

Or two, working up to things paaaainfully slowly because they're so nervous, and at each step going "okay this is good, we can just keep doing this for a while"

Besides, let's be honest: it is fun to imagine them just making out for an hour lol

All that said! I do think they once they've had sex a few times and get comfortable, they'll get relaxed and playful about it. And then they're not going to be able to keep their hands off each other for a while, aaahaha

Anyway. Here's a long-ass but great meta post I didn't write about how She-Ra is an entire cartoon about queer desire that's still appropriate for kids.

[agayconcept]

.

[voiceshearingyouloud]

Finally properly sobbing after not being able to cry all day is such a great feeling

[kathrynmjaneway]

.

[millionsknives]

whenever i have absolutely nothing going on and don’t need to be anywhere or do anything, everyone around me is perfectly healthy but when i have huge things that i absolutely cannot afford to miss then half my family gets sick at once with different diseases

[running-in-the-dark]

help I can't stop thinking about furniture. it's keeping me from thinking about the other way more important things I need to be thinking about (Jenkins, Dan Fielding, etc.)

[phagodyke]

can I be vulnerable with u guys tonight the only thing I actually want for my birthday is a hug. just one i dont wanna be greedy that's all 🥹