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pathologicalreid · 3 months ago

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blue ribbon | s.r.

in which you and Spencer dedicate yourselves to helping your daughter with the best baking soda volcano the science fair has ever seen

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: chemist!reader, misuse of lab equipment i don't care, their daughter is very girly, glitter word count: 1.46k a/n: ending the post margotober drought with the very first margovember request!!! i promise i'm working on masterlists but for some reason they're exhausting.

“Why do I have to walk backward?” You grumble while trying to balance the end of the plywood on your knee, pulling at your badge reel to unlock the lab door.

Spencer nods his head in the direction of the keypad, “That would be why.”

Rolling your eyes, you push the door handle down with your elbow before pushing the door open with your foot, shuffling your feet. “Honey, can you turn the lights on?”

Lifting herself up on her tiptoes, your daughter flips all of the switches on the panel, cringing at the bright fluorescent lights.

Together, you and Spencer hoist the science project onto one of the lab tables, careful not to knock anything over as the papier-mâché volcano rests in your professional lab.

You and Leah had stayed up until eleven last night finishing the last coat of paint, even entertaining a visit from her Aunt Penelope so that the finished project could have a fine dusting of glitter all over it. Your dining room was now permanently sparkly, but the look on your daughter’s face when she saw the finished project made the mess entirely worth it.

Spencer steps to grab your jugs of white vinegar from the car, propping the door open so he can bring the supplies for the baking soda volcano in.

Obviously, you weren’t going to use the full-size volcano now, but Leah had refused to travel without it and Spencer believes that saying no to her is an impossible task. “Mommy?” The little girl pipes up, playing with the stirring rod that you had just set in front of her.

“What’s up?” You ask, leaning your hip against the counter, gently reaching out and adjusting the bows adorning her pigtails that you’d put in her hair that morning.

She looks over at the wall, minding each of the posters that line your laboratory, “What is that?”

You follow her finger to see what she’s pointing at, smiling softly, “It’s the periodic table.”

Humming thoughtfully, Leah sets the stirring rod down and walks over to the poster, “It looks like the one at home.”

Nodding, you get a step stool out for her to stand on, “They’re the same poster, the one we have at home is just a lot smaller than the one I keep at work.” You explain to her, knowing she’s talking about the poster you keep in your home office. “Come on baby, let’s go get you a lab coat.”

Setting a hand on her shoulder, you guide her to the storeroom, “Woah,” she breathes. It’s not a positive reaction, her eyes flitter all around the room, a mess of lab coats and goggles.

“Okay,” you say, shoving your way through the space until you find your locker, pulling out your lab coat, as well as safety glasses for the whole family. Holding a coat up to her and having her pull it on, you put your own lab coat on before looking back to find your five-year-old drowning in polyester. Laughing slightly, you adjust the lapels of her jacket, “How does it feel?”

Leah looks down at herself, “Cool!” She exclaims beaming up at you and giving you two thumbs up. She skips out of the closet and heads back to her volcano, almost tripping over the extra fabric of the lab coat, but Spencer grabs her arm before her knees can hit the linoleum.

He smiles at her, “Are you okay?” Helping her adjust her coat, he kneels down to her.

“Daddy,” she cheers, completely ignoring his question for the sake of being five years old, “Look at my coat!”

Smoothing her hair back, Spencer’s eyes briefly meet yours before he looks back to Leah, “You look like mommy.”

In a fit of giggles, he scoops her up in his arms in an attempt to avoid a tripping hazard, but she just thinks it’s fun. He sets her down feet-first on the step stool you had gotten out for her.

“Here,” you say, handing him a lab coat for him to wear and setting the safety goggles you’d gathered on the countertop.

When your daughter came home in tears because she felt like she had been assigned the ‘most boringest’ project for the science fair, you and Spencer quickly decided that you’d try everything to make her baking soda volcano exciting. At the very least, you’d work together to make sure she has fun.

Leah puts her goggles on and looks up at you for her next instruction, watching you divide the baking soda and white vinegar into separate beakers, “So, what will happen when we add these two together?” Spencer quizzes, watching you make careful portions.

“It’s gonna fizz up!” She responds correctly, bouncing on her feet while you gently push the first two dishes in front of her.

You nod, “You can pour the white vinegar into the baking soda,” You nudge her gently, knowing that you measured just enough to reach the top of the beaker, but not enough to flow onto the counter.

She uses both hands to grip the beaker and pour the liquid out, and the immediate reaction surprises her so much that Spencer holds an arm out to keep her upright. He trains his eyes on her amazement as the foam dissipates and the water and sodium acetate are left in the glass. “Can I drink it?” She asks, frowning up at her dad.

“No,” you both answer immediately, a sort of parental reflex. If you don’t answer quickly enough, odds are she’d pick it up and try anyway.

Disappointed, her frown remains on her face while her eyes return to the countertop, timidly, she tugs on Spencer’s lab coat, prompting him to crouch down to her eye level, “What’s wrong, lovey?”

Her eyes nervously look around the lab, eyeing some of the cabinets before she takes a deep breath, “Can we make it pink?”

“The foam?” Spencer says curiously, eyes flickering up at you while you nod frantically, already thinking up options so that you could further individualize your daughter’s glitter volcano.

She rocks back and forth, “Can we?”

As soon as Spencer says yes, it’s like a hold on you has been released, unlocking some of the cabinets so you can grab more supplies from around the lab, you return to the station with an armful of things to try, and Spencer mutters something to Leah about you being a mad scientist, leading you to maturely stick your tongue out at him.

You set up four options, taking photos as you go so you can paste them onto her presentation board. The first one is just baking soda, but you added a touch of dish soap to the vinegar. The increase in bubbles seems to greatly please Leah, so you decide as a team that the final product should have dish soap in it.

The second one has manganese sulfate mixed into the baking soda, and if the pink salt altered the color of the foam at all, it doesn’t impress your perfectionist daughter.

The third one includes phenolphthalein, which you think has some real potential, based on the way Leah’s eyes widen at the sight of it combined with the vinegar. The liquid was almost a fuchsia color, and she gasps when she pours it in to find that the foam is white, “It’s gone?”

You nod, “The phenolphthalein when it’s in the vinegar is pink because it’s an acid, but as soon as you add the baking soda it becomes a basic solution, so…” Your voice trails off when Spencer starts shaking his head, and you look down to find that you have completely lost Leah’s attention. Instead of listening, she’s trying to pronounce phenolphthalein, tracing the letters on the black countertop.

“What do you have next?” Spencer asks, eyeing the tiny dropper bottle in front of you.

Picking it up, you drop some of it into the vinegar and hand it to Leah, “It’s food coloring.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Why do you have food coloring in the lab?”

You wrinkle your nose at him, the expression makes Leah giggle, “Mind your business.”

As a family, you watch the chemical reaction, the white of the foam mixing with the red food coloring to create the desired pink lava. “Oh,” your daughter says softly, “Thank you, mommy!”

Beaming down at her, you place your hands on your hips and sigh, “If you’d like, we can add glitter to the baking soda too.”

Wide eyes look up at you in amazement, brown eyes inherited from her father, “I love science,” she whispers.

Behind her back, you hold your hand out for Spencer, exchanging a silent fist bump—a quiet celebration between two scientists.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #written by margot #chemist!reader #margovember

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yeetus-feetus · 1 year ago

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Today my mother made me go to the beach. And while I was there I let myself enjoy the water and sand between my toes.

After a little while I felt like crying.

I felt like crying because remembered the videos I had seen of Palestinian children playing in the water of their beaches, of parents chasing children around while they laughed, of people enjoying the water and feeling the sand between their toes.

Then I thought about how these people don't get to enjoy their beaches anymore. Because Israel won't let them, because Israel is bombing the families who used to play in the sand.

When we got in the car my mum rolled all the windows down, said something about the fresh air. And as we drove I felt the cool wind against my face, in my hair.

And I wanted to cry.

Because the people in Gaza don't get to just enjoy the fresh air. Because all they're breathing in is debris from destroyed buildings and white phosphorus, and the smell of the dead.

I looked out my window and saw my old school as we passed. And I felt guilty, because I dropped out. But their are children in Palestine who are crying and begging to go back to school and they can't.

The children in Gaza can't go back to school because Israel has destroyed and bombed them.

And I think about the displaced people taking refuge in those very schools while Israel attacked them. I think about how unfair and cruel that is.

And then I see the trees. My favourite trees, Gum trees that are native to my land. And I think about how the native trees in Gaza are being destroyed and bulldozed, very important trees that mean a lot to the Palestinian people. And those trees are being taken away by Israel.

Then there are houses, homes and people going about their day. I watch them from my car window and I want to cry still. Because the people in Gaza have no homes, they don't get to go about their day.

I think about the displaced people in Gaza, who are lucky to have a tent to sleep in. Because Israel has bombed their homes, rained white phosphorus above their homes, bulldozed over their homes, forced the Palestinian people to flee from their homes.

I'm barely holding in my tears, because I'm in the car on the way to my own home and the people in Gaza don't get to do that.

We pass the shops, and my throat starts to close up because there's people buying ice cream and groceries for their families. And the people in Gaza are being starved by Israel.

The people in Gaza don't get to have ice cream, they can't do their grocery shopping. They don't even have enough food for their own children because Israel refuses to let any aid trucks in, because they control all the borders and entries into Gaza.

We pass by a chemist in particular and I think about all the children in Gaza not being able to receive medical care. Because the hospitals are being attacked by Israel. Because no medical aid can get in. Because they have doctors being killed.

And then we pass by the park. The park is empty. And I think about the empty parks in Gaza. Because there are no children to play on the swings, no children to run and laugh. Because the children are crying instead. The children have no legs to play because they've been bombed. They can't laugh because white phosphorus has burned through their faces. They can't do anything because they are frozen in fear.

Theses children who should be filling up empty parks are holding their baby siblings, trying to keep them alive because their parents, aunt's and uncles, have all been slaughtered by the IDF. These children who should be laughing are screaming out for help because members of the IDF are raping them.

These children who should be having fun at the park are prisoners of Israel for throwing rocks at tanks like the boy David who threw a rock at the giant Goliath to save his people. And these children are being tortured in these prisons because they were hopeful and brave.

These children who should be with their families at the park are dying. Are dead. A lying beneath the ruble. Are cold and limp with no air in their lungs. These children are in pieces scattered across the blood drenched ground.

They should have been at the park today.

I can hear a man talking on the radio, and he's talking about unimportant nonsense things and I feel angry. I feel frustrated. Because why is no one else talking about this!? Why is no one talking about what's happening to these people!??

We pass by the fresh water creak right before my house and I want to scream! Because I know there's no fresh water in Gaza. I know there are Palestinians dying of dehydration and yet there is fresh, drinkable water running right there! But the water in Palestine has been polluted by blood and disease, and the seawater Israel has flooded their water supply with.

And when I get to my bed I finally scream and cry and punch my mattress to get all my emotions out.

Now I'm numb and writing this so that someone will see it, hoping that someone will understand, hoping that someone will fight even harder for the people of Palestine.

I'm hoping that they can enjoy their beaches again. I hope that's sometime soon.

#palestine #free palestine #save palestine #save gaza #gaza #i stand with palestine #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #isreal #idf #fuck the idf #fuck isreal #end the occupation #occupied palestine

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the-californicationist · 11 months ago

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That Fire is Repeated

AO3 Link

From an anonymous ask: fic of where instead of Price, it's reader who's been infected with sex pollen?👉👈please and thank u!

Deep in the southern jungles of Urzikstan, Captain Price is sent to help with your extraction. On your way out of the makeshift Konni laboratory, you accidentally step on a trap, and Price volunteers to save your life.

“I can’t hear her comms!” Simon yelled out over the noise of the helicopter, pointing to his headset and giving the thumbs down to Laswell.

She typed something into her datapad and showed it to him, yelling back,

“Dead zone! You’ll have to go in on foot.”

Price adjusted his vest and checked to make sure his gun was fully loaded,

“I’ll go. She’s my recruit, my responsibility.”

“Sure you’ll wanna be the big hero for her, too, huh?” Farah laughed from the cockpit, glancing over her shoulder as Price twisted his face, cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink from his shame.

It was well-known that Price had a terribly strong crush on you. You had accepted his advances, but he was reluctant to take it further, realizing that fraternizing was frowned upon. So, you pined for each other from afar, and the whole base knew about it.

Laswell rolled her eyes at Farah’s comment,

“Should we go back to basics? Captain: don’t subtract from the population,” her eyes narrowed, “Don’t add to the population…”

“Yeah, alright, Kate. Got it. Loud and clear,” Price waved her off, staring out the window and ignoring the obvious ribbing from his colleagues.

“Go get Sparrow and let’s go the fuck home,” Laswell hollered at him, opening the door to the chopper and letting the air whoosh inside.

The wind stung his cheeks, and the tall grass blades spun and twirled like violent dancers as he made his way towards the old, dilapidated lab. You’d been sent to infiltrate secret Konni operations here, disguised as a chemist. Now that the Konni operatives had been dispatched, you secured the intel and were ready for extraction. Price was ready to have you back. These types of ops were so delicate. One wrong move would put you in danger. He was glad the worst of it was over.

As quickly and as carefully as he could, Price made his way inside. It was a little odd that you weren’t outside waiting for the extraction, so his guard was up. In the main lab, he spotted you, standing with your bag and your weapon with your back towards him.

“Little bird?” Price questioned under his breath, moving forward slowly, using the pet name he saved for when you two were alone.

“Hey, Captain. Glad you made it,” you called out to him, your voice tinged with obvious sobbing and stress.

“What is it, Spar? What’s happened?”

He made his way around the lab table and saw you. You were standing stock-still, staring down at your foot. Then, he knew what had made you cry.

Jutting out of your pant leg, a giant syringe was stuck into your calf, empty.

Price leaned down to help you, removing the needle, panicking at the thought of losing you,

“Can you move?”

“When I do… Captain, it’s excruciating.”

“Fuck,” Price tried the comms. But, then he remembered it was a dead zone, and no one was coming to help him. He asked you, “Is it poison? How’d this happen?”

“They call it XLR8. It’s what they’ve been working on. A prototype. I was bending down to grab my bag and this was rigged to hit me. They knew I was a spy.”

“What does it do, this prototype?” You heard his voice quiver at the end of his question.

You blushed, laughing a bit,

“It incapacitates you, first. Removes your inhibitions, next. Then, it causes extreme vasodilation…”

“In the Queen’s bloody English, love. Please…”

“John,” you used his name, looking up into his eyes, “I may ask you to do things to me. Things that I might not usually ask for. And I want you to know that you don’t have to listen to me. I don’t want you to do anything… I don’t want to force you to do… things…”

“Birdie. Tell me what I need to know.”

“When the Konni scientists injected it into mice, they would breed… for hours. They wouldn’t eat, they wouldn’t sleep. One time, a researcher opened the door to the cage, and they didn’t escape. They only bred…” You looked at him in his eyes, making sure he heard you, “But, the mice who were alone in their cages and were given XLR8 got a high fever and died. Every last one of them”

“Are you… “ Price pointed down at your leg, “Do you mean to say that you’ll need someone to…”

You looked down at the ground, steeling yourself for the harsh reality of what was to come,

“When the drugs hit my system, the effects were immediate. Stage one should be almost over now.. You’ll… you’ll know it when you see stage two. But, listen to me, John. I couldn’t live with myself if I forced you to do something that you would regret. Please. I’m sure they’ll think of some other way to help me…”

“Little bird,” he caught your gaze and smiled softly at you, “I’m here for you. I’m not going to let anythin’ happen to you. I won’t lose you to this. I can’t… I care about you too much. I’m going to catch you, and we’re going to get out of here. Just fall forward into my arms, love. I know it hurts. We need to get you to the bloody medic as soon as we can.”

You nodded, and then you did as he commanded. Every movement felt like some sort of hell. You could hear yourself screaming, but it was muffled, your face buried in his chest. You were hanging, limp, against John’s body. You could feel every stinging step he took as it jostled your body. Suddenly, you heard the angry clipping of chopper blades. Then, you passed out.

Sometime later, you awoke, still on the chopper, sitting in the jump seat way in the back. Well, that wasn’t quite accurate. Price was sitting in the jumpseat and you were… straddling his lap.

You were humping him, shamelessly, right in front of Farah, Laswell, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost. The helicopter was full of soldiers, and here you were, uncontrollably rocking your hips against your captain. The others tried to avert their gazes, sitting at awkward angles, trying not to watch, but that somehow made it worse.

You cried out as if you were in pain, and Price held you closer, soothing you with his deep, rumbling voice, speaking to you right in your ear,

“Shh, shh. It’s alright, little bird. I’ve got you. Almost home. Just a few more minutes.”

“John… fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… I need… oh, God.”

“I know what you need,” he kissed your neck, and he took his hand and shoved it down the front of your pants, giving you something to grind against.

His fingers were strong, and the tips of them were thick, easily pressing through your folds for you, exciting your nerves just the way you liked.

You moaned loudly, unable to stop yourself. When you did, you saw Soap’s head peek around the back of his seat. Then, a gloved, skeletal hand yanked him back around to face the front. If you didn’t die from the XLR8, you’d die from embarrassment afterward, that was certain.

“It’s okay, bird. It’s not your fault. They know that,” he tried to reassure you, but you hid your face in his neck anyway, unable to stop your wanton writhing, soaking his fingers until they slid against you unimpeded.

You felt your hands reach for his belt, digging under his vest and all of his equipment straps. You wanted to spear your body onto his thick cock. You were sure that it would cure you. The fever made you feel too cold and too hot all at the same time. You shivered in his arms, but your brow was dotted with beads of sweat.

He caught your wrist to stop you,

“Just a little while longer, love. Shh, shh, shh. I know…”

You sobbed into his shoulder, ashamed and needy, too weak to fight his grip.

“Hey, look at me,” you obeyed, and he rubbed your cheek, “I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”

You shuddered, cresting over a brief, sharp orgasm, coming on him as quietly as you could, biting your cheek so you wouldn’t cry out. For a few seconds, you experienced some sort of relief, but then it was gone, and the overwhelming internal fire raged in your belly once more.

The chopper pitched, landing on the pad at your base, and everyone cleared out of the hull except for Laswell. She looked down at you, pity in her eyes, and then turned to him with concern,

“I’ll send a few supplies to your room. The medic wants to run some tests. How long is this supposed to last?”

John shrugged, petting the sweaty hair out of your face, tucking you in close to him in his arms,

“Not sure. Just trying to get her through it. Take her datapad. It’s got her notes from the lab.”

Laswell took it and stepped down from the chopper, jogging off to the med bay.

“C’mon, love. Let me help you take that fever away, hm?”

You nodded, feeling dizzy and dehydrated, letting him carry you from the helicopter. It seemed like the tight coil in your belly was getting more and more tense by the moment. Your orgasm had been too weak, and it was almost like you hadn’t quite completed the event. You were just stuck in between coming and not coming, waiting for someone to put you out of your misery. What you thought had been relief was really just a prelude to the main event. It was torture.

As you lay your head on his chest, you could smell his aftershave as it mixed with his skin, a comfortingly warm scent with woodsy spices and the faint hint of tobacco from his favorite cigars. You wanted more of it, so you turned your nose into him, running your hands across the belt of his pants, trying to pry your way in..

When he arrived in the barracks, he kicked open the door to a dark room. It smelled just like him. You realized then that you were in his quarters. He lay you on his bed and set to taking off your gear. Your boots and socks slid off, and he unclipped your vest. Then, you felt his fingers on your neck, carefully inspecting your wounds.

“Birdie…” He shook his head, obviously regretful for what you were going through.

You whimpered, looking up at him as you moved your hand down your own pants, rubbing yourself in front of him out of a desperate need,

“John, I don’t know how to ask you this.”

“You don’t have to. Medic’s gonna check you out, and I’ll give you whatever you want, little bird. I promise.”

“I need you, now. I don’t… I can’t… mmmngh...”

“Captain?” A woman’s voice floated into the room from the doorway. Price cracked the door and when he saw it was the medic, he let her in.

She knelt by the bed, and took your hand,

“Hey, Sparrow. I’m just going to check your vitals, okay?”

You nodded, trying not to stare down the dark opening of her lab coat. Her voice was so sweet, and her breasts looked full and soft. Her olive skin would probably feel so warm on your lips. Before you could stop yourself, you had your hand behind her head, kissing her neck, trying your best to unbutton her blouse.

“Easy! Easy does it,” John sat himself down behind you on the bed, positioning you between his legs, and held you back, keeping you from accosting the medic.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. I… oh, my God…” You writhed, trying to fight the demonic need building inside of you.

“That’s okay,” she said, “They warned me. We’re going to get you some help… Let me take your temp… Goddamnit. She’s burning up. I’m going to give her a light sedative and something to try and cut her fever, but…”

She stopped speaking, looking up at the captain, trying to be delicate,

“You probably need to… um… begin. The sooner the better. I’ll leave these with you,” she dropped two blue pressed pills into his hand, “Just in case you, uh, need a boost.”

Price recognized the sexual enhancement drugs and put them on his side table. He waited patiently for the medic to take a small vial of your blood. He thanked her, trying not to sound like he was in a rush (even though he was), and eventually she shut the door, leaving you two in each others’ care.

John stayed where he was, but he softened his grip, kissing your neck. He reached down and unbuttoned your pants, giving your hand room to move. You rubbed your folds faster, making tight little circles around your clit, struggling to come.

“Nnngh… fuck. Fuck, I can’t do it. I’m so close, but…” You whined, gritting your teeth and struggling against the XLR8. It was making you woozy, and you couldn’t keep your strength up in order to get yourself over the edge.

“Show me,” he whispered, staring down at your furious masturbation, watching your hand as it worked, “Show me how you like it, little bird. Teach me.”

Your heart raced, equal parts excited and embarrassed to show him something so personal and intimate, but you did as you were told, letting him see how your fingers worked your flesh. He sighed, and you felt his cock shift against the small of your back.

He took over for you, sliding his hand down below yours, mimicking your movements, and getting very close to perfection.

“That’s it!” You hissed, keening for him, “That’s… oh, fuck, that’s so good. Don’t stop. Please, don’t —”

Your orgasm was almost immediate. Your body locked up, every muscle squeezing you until you were frozen, rigidly convulsing as you came on his hand. Your mouth hung open in a breathless, silent scream. Then, to your horror, you felt the heavy stain of some sort of fluid soaking through your pants. At first, you thought you’d wet yourself, but then when John pulled his hand away to inspect your emission, you saw the sticky, gooey consistency shining on his fingers.

“What… I don’t understand. What is that?”

“It looks like your come, yeah? Quite a lot of it…” He observed. Price brought it to his nose and mouth to smell it. Then, he licked his fingers tentatively, and his eyes rolled back into his head, “Mmm. Fuck. It’s sweet.”

He lifted you so easily, it was as if you weighed nothing. Propping you up on his pillows, he helped you out of your pants and boots, stripping you down. When Price saw you, dripping and pink, splayed in front of him like a gleaming prize, he stalled. Then, he looked up at you, eyes wide with glorious wonder,

“Little bird…”

“John,” you gasped, “Please.”

He didn’t waste any more time. In a flash, your thighs were hitched up toward your chest as he shoved them back, giving his mouth access to its warm, wet reward.

The first long lick was like its own kind of drug. Your whole body sang like a bell, trembling and ringing out for him and his soft tongue. He licked you again and pulled away, confused but pleasantly so,

“Fuck, love. You taste like strawberries. That’s… fuck.”

You lost track of time as he devoured you. His whole face was shining with your stickiness, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He was gasping for air, practically drowning himself, rubbing his chin and nose through your folds as he tried to writhe his tongue deeper into your core, fucking you with it to draw out more of your slickness.

The sounds you were making seemed almost inhuman. You were convinced you had never had a true orgasm before if this is what they were supposed to feel like. Every lap of his tongue felt like its own crescendo. You were putty in his hands, figuratively and literally judging by the dampness beneath you.

Eventually, he made his way back up your body, peeling away your shirt and bra, rustling out of his own clothes as quickly as he could, his muscular arms getting trapped in his jacket, stretching and pulling against his heavy bones for freedom.

“You alright, little bird?” He asked you softly, crawling over you and settling himself between your shivering thighs.

You nodded,

“Yeah, that was so amazing, John. I know its selfish, but I need more. Can… can you fuck me? Please? I’m clean, I have an IUD. Please? I won’t —”

“Shh. Hush, love. I’m not leavin’ this room ‘til I’ve cured you, one way or another. C’mere.”

He pulled you to him, kissing you, covered in your come. You tasted yourself on his lips, and he was right: it was exactly like strawberries. It must have been the stimulant, you thought. Something to… entice…

Your mind went blank as John began to feed his fat cockhead into your hole. All of the pain and the heat from the fever disappeared, and you were normal again. Well, a very horny normal, but at least you felt some relief.

“Oh, my God!” You cried, “That’s it. That’s what I needed. Oh…”

“Yeah?” Price narrowed his eyes, studying your face, watching your reactions with rapt attention. Where you were stabilizing, he was falling apart at the seams.

His whole body shuddered as he slid himself into you. It was shallow at first; he was too thick to fit inside of your tight pussy, no matter how wet you were. But, as he lubed himself up in your body, he squeezed deeper and deeper inside, eventually drilling down right to his base, slamming his hips into yours like a hungry machine.

Your screams echoed in his small room, and the metal bed creaked under his enormous weight. You could feel his power through his thrusts. He was so incredibly strong, and his muscles bent and twisted just to serve your pleasure. It was hypnotizing to watch. You were focused on the straining sinew in his immense neck when another orgasm threatened to bubble over inside of you.

It was too soon. You’d barely recovered from the first one, and as he felt your body start to contract around his shaft, he began to moan right along with you.

“That’s it, Birdie, let it out. C’mon. Come for me… That’s it. That’s… ungh!” He coached you, talking you through it, fighting his own pleasure like the dragon it was, the heat of his breathing furling in hot bursts down your neck.

His eyes were wrenched shut, but between his long, aching thrusts, he rambled, spilling out his words instead of himself inside of you like he wanted to.

“Spar… don’t you know how badly I’ve wanted this?”

Your pussy was being pounded so hard you could feel your pulse slamming against your skin.

“...I’ve wanted you… wanted to feel you…”

His face was near yours, close enough that you could still smell your sweet slick on his beard.

“...it’s so good. I never want it to stop. Feels like heaven…”

When he wasn’t speaking in that hoarse, smoldering timbre, you could see his jaw working against itself, fighting the inevitable.

“...so damn responsive to me. Such a good girl…”

Then, his tone turned dark, burning into your face as he spoke against your cheek through gritted teeth,

“You want more, hm?”

“Yeah…” You whispered, your voice sounding so small.

“Harder? You want it harder, don’t you, little bird? I can tell.”

You nodded, whispering your pleading to him in wordless gasps. He smiled. You could feel it against your skin,

“Bloody hell. Bloody fuckin’ hell,” he lamented, rising up above you, wrenching his fingers around your waist, the gentleness gone from his touch, “Fuck, Birdie. You’ll make me come. You… ah!”

He brought you with him as he tumbled over the edge. You felt like you’d been hit with a flashbang. You couldn’t hear, and your vision went white. When you begged your lungs to breathe, you couldn’t take in the air. All you could feel — the only thing your body would allow you to feel — was each silky throb of his cock as it pumped his come inside of you. You could feel it as it burst from him, and then as it melted down your walls, flowing across his fleshy head. It was lava-hot, and you knew nothing except that you needed more.

Price collapsed on top of you, his heavy, furry body sweaty and panting, gasping for air himself. He seemed spent, but you weren’t done.

You flipped him, planting him on his back, enjoying the shocked look on his face, his eyes wide and uncertain. He couldn’t speak; there wasn’t enough time. But, as you began to rock back and forth on his softening rod, he cried out with something between pain and bliss.

“Oh, fuck, love… wait! I’m… oh, shite…”

“I’m… so sorry, John. I can’t stop…” You ground your swollen pussy down to his base, fucking him raw and wild, feeling his come slipping out of you in foamy smears.

He nodded, hiding his eyes behind his palm, struggling to get his breathing under control,

“It’s alright, Birdie. It’s alright. Take what you need.”

As you rode him, he fully softened in you, and you cried out, trying everything you could to bring him back. Then, you watched as he fumbled across the end table, reaching for the blue pills the medic had left behind. He took one, and stared up at you,

“I’m sorry, love. C’mere.”

He grabbed your thighs, and with very little struggle, situated you across his face, grabbing your hips and pulling you down onto him, forcing you to put your weight on his jaw. He began to eat you out, licking long circles around your messy hole at first, and then he thrust his long tongue inside of you, rubbing his nose deep within your wet folds.

You screamed for him then, trying to battle your insecurities and failing. It was overwhelming. The pleasure just built and built inside of you, mounting up and then… nothing. It remained there at its peak, a tightened coil, ready to bust.

“John! John, I can’t… Help me, please.”

With all of his strength, he lifted you off of him, shoving you on all fours, situating himself behind you.

All of his movements were rabid and unwieldy. He was struggling, trying to overcome his soporific pleasure to accommodate you. Hungry for you even though he’d recently been sated.

Your chaos quieted for a moment when you felt his fingers prying your lips apart between your legs, slipping into you like a cork, sinking down to his knuckles into a perfect fit.

“Oh, Sparrow. So fuckin’ soft. So sweet.”

As he praised you, he ate you, pulling out more and more of your stickiness onto his hand, lapping you up with his tongue. You were coming unwound, and it felt amazing. It was as if he was pulling pulsing orgasms from your body on a long silk ribbon, one after the other, soft and slick, neverending.

Then, finally, you felt his head tapping its way into your wet hole once more. Fucking you from behind seemed to be your commander’s preference. It was either that or he had become beyond overstimulated. His noises were a cross between whimpers and growls. He kissed his way up your back, sinking his sharp teeth into your neck and shoulder, grunting like an animal as he buried himself into you.

“You’re so big. I feel so full,” you whispered to him, glancing over your shoulder as he knelt over you like a feral hound, bucking into you shamelessly.

“Feels good, little bird? ‘M not hurtin’ you, am I?”

“No, John. You’re perfect,” you found his jaw as he kissed your neck, nuzzling his face with your own, rubbing against him like a cat.

“Gonna come for me, love? Squeezin’ the fuck out of my cock.”

“I can’t help it,” you cried, feeling hot tears run down your cheeks. You were so overwhelmed, your body was processing every sensation, fraying your nerves. He wiped your temple with his hand,

“I know, Sparrow. I know. Let it out, love. C’mon. I can take it.”

“Nghah!” You screamed, trying to relax into the blinding pleasure, feeling your legs start to tremble from it.

“Mmm,” Price groaned deeply, sitting back on his knees as he felt you spill over the edge. Your sticky come coated his cock and the dense hair at his base, matting the dark fur, “Tha’s it, baby. Fuck, so wet.”

You sobbed through the orgasm as it wrecked your body. John gathered you up in his arms, taking the sheet with him, clutching you to his chest messily, still humping himself into you as gently as he could, but unable to quell his own lurid desire.

“Lay down, Birdie,” your captain whispered, pulling the sheet away and pushing you prone into his mattress, “Try to breathe for me. Tha’s it.”

You tried to do as he commanded. You wanted to be good for him, but your breath kept hitching in your throat. You needed more, and you didn’t know how to get it. You writhed below him, feeling his cock slipping in and out of you, the wetness from your body pooling beneath you.

“John, I’m still so hot. Feels like I’m losing my mind,” you looked at him over your shoulder, and you had to admit he didn’t look much better. He was spent, fucking you on auto-pilot at this point, letting nature take its own path. He was nothing more than base instincts at this point, and you could tell he was having trouble keeping himself tied down.

He wanted to come again, you could feel it in how rigid his cock had become, helped by the pills. Something inside of you wanted to force his come from him, to make him explode in you again, filling you up. So, you pushed your hips back, arching your spine to allow more of his cock inside of your pussy, teasing him with your swollen hole.

“Oh, fuck. Sparrow… don’t…”

“Does it feel good, John?” You asked, not following his orders for once, “Do I… make you feel good?”

“Holy fuck,” he spat, his voice dark and animalistic, unable to tear his eyes from where your bodies were joined together.

You twisted your hips back and forth, effectively jerking him off with your drooling sheath, listening to his deep whining as you tormented him, pushing him to the brink but not fucking him fast enough to toss him over.

“Little bird… Please…” John whimpered, overstimulated and eager to come.

“Tell me,” you teased him, not recognizing your own voice, “Tell me how you like it.”

“I fuckin’ love it. Just like that, Birdie. So damn good. Keep movin’ your hips like that, pretty girl. Gonna make me come again.”

You could feel his eyes watching you fuck him. He used his hands to pull your ass cheeks apart, giving him a bird’s eye view of both of your holes. You could feel the cool air rush across them, exciting you and making you shiver from the sensation.

“So damn pretty,” Price crooned, whispering almost to himself, petting your stretched skin with his thumbs, smearing your wetness all over you.

You felt him grab your hair, right at the nape of your neck, forcing your back to arch, pulling you up to him,

“You want me to come in you, little bird? You want my fuckin’ come? Hm? Tell me!”

“Nghh… Yes,” you hissed. His grip was so restricting, and you felt the air try to escape your throat, “Come. In. Me.”

“Sparrow!” Price shouted, releasing your hair to hold you across your belly, wrapping your body in his arms, ramming himself into you as deeply as he could, letting his cock spill into you once again.

You were full of him. John was everywhere. He was wet and dripping within you, and as he fell to the bed with you, his body covered yours fully, wrapping you beneath him. You shifted a bit, convincing him to roll onto his side, kissing his neck and face, whispering sweet nothings to him as he caught his breath.

“So good, John… You are so good to me,” you let your lips sink into his warm, panting mouth, letting your lips slide together.

“Mmm,” he sighed, “Still hard. The medic was right about those pills.”

“I’m so sorry,” you straddled him again, humping against his still-rigid shaft, “I still need you, John. Please?”

“Sure, little bird. Ah! Oh, fuck, I’m sensitive. Easy… Ngh!”

“I’ll go slow,” you leaned forward to kiss him, capturing his long moan in your mouth.

Suddenly, there was a quick knock at the door and then a slit of light as it creaked open. A skeletal gloved hand reached in with a stuffed bag and dropped it just inside the room before shutting it tightly again.

Price removed you gently, watching you pout, and he explained,

“Laswell’s care package.”

“Come back, John,” you pulled his hand toward you as he opened the bag with the other.

He started laughing, letting you guide his cock back into you while he was standing at the edge of the bed. You watched as he pulled a couple of water bottles out of the bag and set them on the end table, still chuckling to himself.

“Hey,” you pet your fingers through the hair on his belly as you writhed against him, “What’s funny?”

“Strawberries,” he smiled as he pulled a small box of the fruit from the bag, his eyes twinkling in the low light, “You want one, little bird?”

You nodded, but then felt the sudden emptiness of him removing his cock from you again. Then, with a devilish grin, you watched him dip the tip of the bright red fruit into your pussy, twirling it around in your juices, coating it with your thick stickiness, and then sucking it into his mouth, eating half of it and letting it drip down his chin.

He brought it to your mouth, at the same time thrusting himself all the way inside of you, making you gasp,

“Open wide, love.”

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #captain john price #cod mwii #john price #captain price #captain price x you #captain price x reader #call of duty #captain john price x female reader #john price x female reader #x female reader #cod

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bettysupremacy · 11 months ago

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Hi lovie!!! I love ur fics! I would love to see a Remus fic with an inexperienced gf! Not smut but like the convo before it like May be she's super anxious bc she's worried she won't make Remus feel good or like what if Remus hates the way she looks?? And Remus is reassuring her

thankkk youu for the request he’s so cute, 17+ just cause it’s a lil suggestive yanno

When Remus had asked you to stay the night through bleary eyes after the movie had ended, you hadn’t had the strength to say no. When he leaned in to kiss you, his knee nestled between your thighs, you knew you made the right decision.

His kisses were soft and breathless, growing more intense as you moved beneath him. He was warm and broad, hard to quit.

His hand grazes your thigh now, though you know better than to think of it as intention. He pulls up, trailing wet kisses down your cheek and neck. You gasp, tugging on his brown hair.

“I’ve never..”

He buries in your neck. He smells like warm vanilla and books. Maybe cedar. You dunno, you’re not a chemist.

“Been touched?” He asks innocently. His tone almost makes you smile.

His lips are pink and swollen from his attack on you. You swipe at the corner softly and he turns his head to kiss the pad of your thumb. He’s sweet, and his smile afterwards is stupid. He’s awful.

“Yeah.” You murmur, looking down at where his hand falls flat over your sock. Your knee had been hiked up in the frenzy. His hand roams up from your sock to hold your knee.

“That’s okay, we don’t have to do anything till you’re ready.”

You nod, looking him in the eyes. His are soft and round. “But what if you don’t.. like it?”

“That’s very vague,” he smiles at you a little. “like what?”

“Me,” you’re almost silent. “Or like.. when we’re doing.. it..”

He wants to laugh but he doesn’t want to upset you. “I wouldn’t care about that either.”

“My body?”

He shakes his head adamantly. “Do you know what I look like?”

He eyes his scars. They run over his body, weaving through each other at times. You don’t care about them, don’t let your eyes wonder. You found yourself doing it at times when you first met him, almost immediately looking away guilty. You weren’t judgmental of the puffy lines that run through him, just curious.

“I’ve never cared about that.” Your eyebrows furrow.

“Exactly,” he pushes some hair away from your eyes. “Why would I?”

You nod, breathing out. He’s right and you know it. He wouldn’t shy away from the meat of your tummy or the happy trail under your belly button. Wouldn’t gawp at your thighs or the swell of your breasts.

Well, maybe he would, but for different reasons.

“I want to do that.”

“Okay.” He nods. “Right now?”

“Um,” you murmur, eyes falling away from him.

“That’s okay too.”

He’s very genuine, grasping your jaw in his hand. He just wants to look at you. That’s it. Your eyes and your nose, your cheeks and your lips. They’re as pink as his, also puffy, slightly swollen. He smiles at the sight, dipping to drop his forehead against yours. He exhales softly, nudging the bridge of his nose against yours. It’s a quiet moment before you speak.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

You nod, shying away from his eyes again, leaning up toward him.

“Can I kiss you?” He murmurs, mouth dangerously close to yours to be asking that question. Yet, you know if you said no he’d move away.

“Mhm.”

He dips back down, softer than before. You don’t know what to do with your hands, reaching up to hold his cheeks softly. You can feel the skin of his face move into a smile.

“Can I..” he starts slowly, dropping down for a slow kiss before continuing. “Do this?”

He reaches his broad hand to the hem of your shirt, nudging it up a little. Your tummy flips as he looks back up for confirmation. You nod, and he pushes his hand under, not roaming too far. He holds himself accountable, stopping right under the band of your bra. His hips lower too. You can feel him against you as he holds you closer, kissing deeper.

“I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs, if not to himself, to you. “I’ll be gentle.”

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bibleofficial · 5 months ago

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ok so it’s bc he’s fully like NOT IN THE COUNTRY like man’s a full 5hrs ahead sending his brother places 😭😭😭

plugggg is like ‘it’ll be an hour’ DAWG FUCK THE ACID JUS BRING THE WEED 😭😭😭

#stream #ALSKALSKLAKSLAKSAKSAL #like ok #anyway #he’s sick i love him i found out his country of origin TODAY like BROOOOOOOO taskin is from there tooooooooo #obsessed #i’m not giving his country solely bc i need him Back In This Country & Also Not In Jail #i mean he was born here he’s british #like when he said ‘i’m on holiday back home’ i went ‘i thought u were british ? 😭😭’#ALSKALSLLASKAKKSLAKSLA so fucking funny i’m literally so nosey #i just love chatting #like heyyyyy #maybe this is why ppl just tell me things bc im engaged & willing to lend an ear & also will always ask a question #u can’t talk to me in vocally without being interrupted w like ‘so where were u sitting exactly’ ‘how so like cross legged ?’ & it’s not #even relevant ALSKALKSLAKSLAKSALALA LIKE I JUST NEED EVERYTHING LAYED OUT #U GOTTA SET A SCENE #i love to be captivated #i’m so fucking annoying literally ALKSALKAKSLAKSLAKSLA everybody knows this abt me like im NOSEY !!!!!!#but someone ELSE has to START the conversation #i will NEVER start a conversation #but once someone else does it’s like good luck leaving bc im going to hold u hostage #oh also the ppl that got stuck under the bridge like #floating in their cars are unstuck now ALAKALAKLAKSLAKSLAKAL like they had to call a tow #but fully love laughing at them #ok also tea on the acid it’s a trafficker that then distributes but he uses like distributor ants it’s not like the chemist the guy is #buying from - the trafficker is buying from - but the thing is that a lot of his ants have been getting nabbed \:#so no worries #haven’t gotten acid here yet i’m not going to sweat it i can do it back home sometime #i should’ve said i also got hash ALSKALSKALSKLAKSLAKSAL #but that’s still weed MY REAL CONCERN was the PENS

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khaylin27 · 9 months ago

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The Alchemy

pairing: oscar piastri x norris reader; lando norris x sister reader; talks about carlos sainz x norris reader (past relationship)

series: the tortured poets department

synopsis: the alchemy is a term coined in the old days before chemist but back then the aim was to produce gold from other elements by mixing certain chemicals. knowing that she is now with the man of her dreams; she came out of the dark in which she has stayed in for a very long time and found the person in which there was 'no denying the alchemy' that if they were together, there's gold, which to her means love.

warnings: literally none because it's all fluff

author's note: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT YOU'VE GIVEN THIS SERIES 🥹😭🩶 also i had a different collage for this but i didn't like it so here's a new one

This happens once every few lifetimes These chemicals hit me like white wine

Marriage happens every few lifetimes, but not for you. You once thought you were going to marry Carlos. Looking back now, you're extremely grateful that you didn't marry Carlos last year. The 'chemicals' of love that you had with Carlos had an intoxicating effect similar to white wine.

I circled you on a map I haven't come around in so long But I'm coming back so strong

After the Australian Grand Prix, you and Oscar decided to spontaneously get married here since all of the important people in your life are here in his home country. The wedding ceremony was being held at the beach that Oscar's parents had private access to.

As you're walking down the aisle with your father, you start tearing up seeing Oscar wait for you at the alter. Everything you've always wanted is finally happening.

Once you reach the alter, your father gives your hand to Oscar. "Take care of my daughter." Your father smiles as tears form in his eyes.

"Forever and always." Oscar says to your father and takes your hand from him. Oscar walks you up the alter and you both look at Zak. Zak was officiating the wedding ceremony.

"The bride and groom have decided to say their vows to each other." Zak looks at you telling you to go first.

"Oscar Jack Piastri. I can't believe we're getting married after 4 months of knowing each other." You smile in disbelief that you're actually getting married. "I remember when we first met, we had a shot of tequila together cheering to new beginnings for both of us. That night Lando ended up wasted while I was a little bit tipsy. You drove us back to our hotel on an empty Las Vegas Strip. The song 'Downtown Lights' by the Blue Nile started playing in your McLaren and we found that we both loved this song. We sang it loudly while Lando was passed out drunk in the back seat. I didn't know it at that time but it was going to be alright because I found the love of my life." Oscar wipes the tears falling from his face while you continue to speak.

"That week was the first time coming back to the paddock in so long. I remember breaking down in Lando's room because of something an ex said about my papaya family and I. You were so worried about me even though our relationship was barely building. I remember you told me 'it's time to crack these locks from him and start throwing rocks at that past relationship.' After that night I circled you on the map of my heart and came back so strong." You finish your set of vows and the Oscar speaks his.

Cause the sign on your heart Said it's still reserved for me Honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

"Y/N Marie Norris. If you're shocked that we're getting married after 4 months of knowing each other. Well honey, I'll do you one better. I'm surprised I'm marrying a MILF." Everyone including you two laughed at the joke Oscar made about you being older. "But in all seriousness, I'm so happy I'm getting to marry you. I remember when you told me that night in Abu Dhabi that you loved me. I was the happiest man alive because I started to love you too." Tears start dripping from your face as you recall the night in Abu Dhabi.

"I know you have been through the slammer in your past relationship, but the universe knew your heart was always reserved for me. There was no reason to fight to alchemy because you're the one for me."

Once Oscar finishes his vows, Zak continues with the ceremony. You two put your rings on each other and Zake announces you two as Mr. and Mrs. Piastri.

yourinstagram thank you to the man that dumped me, i found the man the universe reserved for me 💍🤍✨

oscarpiastri i love my milf wife 😏

yourinstagram LOVE, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO GET ME PREGNANT BEFORE YOU CALL ME THAT landonorris you're basically a milf @/yourinstagram yourinstagram i'm only 26 😭 landonorris you're basically 30 at this point sister, you can't deny it. please give me a niece/nephew soon 🙏 leo can't be my only nephew, he needs a cousin charlesleclerc i agree with this. @/yourinstagram @/oscarpiastri please have a child soon so leo can have a play mate. alexandrasaintmleux preferably a human one so i can convince charles to give me one too @/yourinstagram @/oscarpiastri oscarpiastri i'll start working on it soon 🫡

user1 OSCAR'S COMMENT IS SO UNHINGE I LOVE IT HAHAHA

user2 i love that lando is playing along with it too HAHAHA they were always meant to be family 🥹 user3 i love that alexandra and charles are playing along too user4 maybe baby piastri might be coming soon 👀

oscarpiastri honestly, who are we to fight to alchemy? mr. and mrs. piastri 💍

yourinstagram the love of my life 🥺🤍✨

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logansargeant so glad you found the girl of your american dreams

liked by author and yourinstagram

landonorris STOP RUBBING OFF ON MY MAN HE'S AUSTRALIAN yourinstagram excuse me @/landonorris he's legally mine now step aside

zbrownceo congrats @/yourinstagram and @/oscarpiastri 💍🧡

liked by author and yourinstagram

yourinstagram thank you zak for officiating the wedding. this wouldn't have happened without you 🥹

mclaren the papayas are now married 🥹🧡 congrats @/yourinstagram and @/oscarpiastri 💍 now we need papaya babies

racerbia please we need a papaya baby around the paddock @/yourinstagram and @/oscarpiastri 🥹👶🧡 yourinstagram we're working on it @/mclaren @/racerbia 🫡 user1 BABY PAPAYA IS IN THE WORKS!!!

f1news A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN: After 4 months of knowing each other, Oscar Piastri and Y/N Norris, Piastri's teammate's sister, decided to tie the knot. This is definitely better than the disaster of a wedding Norris had with Ferrari driver, Carlos Sainz.

Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Piastri!

user1 the way she went from thinking she lost the love of her life to then finding the love of her life on the team where she truly belonged at 🥹🧡

user2 CARLOS BETTER BE CRYING AT WHAT COULD'VE BEEN

user3 papaya love 🥺🧡

****

I haven't come around in so long But I'm making a comeback to where I belong

After your wedding and honeymoon, you shortly found out that you were 10 weeks pregnant. You didn't notice you were pregnant at first with all the traveling you do until you took a break on your honeymoon. At the end of the trip, you felt like you had a stomach bug but it wasn't. When you went to the doctor to check what was wrong, she calmed you down by telling you that you were pregnant.

You've never seen Oscar so happy in your life other than your wedding day; you were shock on the other hand. At the doctor visit you asked your doctor when she thought the baby was conceived and she said January 22. That was the night when you made love for the first time.

"I still can't believe I'm pregnant," you exclaim as you two were relaxing on the couch. Oscar puts his hands on your stomach and starts rubbing it. "I don't think I can go to the races anymore."

"I know honey, it's okay." Oscar kisses your lips softly. "I know you'll support your favorite guys no matter what."

"Actually you're my favorite, Lando is ..." As you were about to continue you started to remember the comment Lando put on your wedding post. "Lando is going to be so happy that he's getting a niece or nephew soon."

"I understood the assignment Lando, Charles, and Alexandra told me to do." You laugh together recalling how they all wanted you two to start having a child as soon as possible.

****

For your 27th birthday, you decided to celebrate in Miami where Lando and Oscar were racing at. Even though Oscar wasn't on the podium that day, you were so happy for Lando. Finally Lando got his first ever win in F1.

Once Lando got away from the crowd and back into his private room in the garage, you decided to congratulate him. "Congrats little bro. It's been a long time coming." You hug Lando tightly but then he pulls away feeling your 15 week baby bump.

"Y/N are you pregnant?" Lando asks still on his high of happiness, you nod yes and Lando gets more excited. "YES THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!"

"That's why she hasn't been coming to the races because we wanna make sure the baby is safe." Oscar explains to a very happy Lando.

"My doctor finally approved me to travel to certain countries. I'm making a comeback to where I belong." You smile as Lando hugs you one more time.

****

The next race you went to was Emilia Romagna Grand Prix, you were currently 18 weeks pregnant. You decided to stay in Oscar's private room since you wanted to ditch the crowds.

Once the race was over and the crowds went home, Oscar, Lando, and Charles with Alexandra came into Oscar's private room to see you. You had messaged Alexandra earlier telling her you wanted to catch up with her and meet baby Leo.

"Hey Y/N ..." Alexandra stops talking after seeing your growing baby bump. "OH MY GOD YOU'RE PREGNANT!!!" Charles finally comes in with baby Leo in his hands.

"You understood the assignment." Charles smiles at Oscar and gives him a side hug. "Congrats my friend."

Your celebration of happiness was interrupted by a Spanish man knocking on your door, "Lando where are you?"

Lando opens the door wide to let the Spanish driver in, "What's up Carlos?"

"I just wanted to congratulate you on getting 2nd. It was one hell of a fight." He smiles at Lando until he looks around and is confused what's going on. "Why are you guys here?" Asking Charles and Alexandra.

Alexandra, happy for your bundle of joy says, "Y/N is pregnant. Isn't it exciting?"

"It is," you smile at Carlos with your pregnancy glow radiating off you. "Oscar was so excited when we found out we were going to have a baby girl. As soon as we told Lando about the gender, him and Oscar were online shopping on the couch together." You look back at Alexandra telling her about your pregnancy.

"My niece needs to have the best of the best. Oscar and I were looking at the McLaren merch to see if the factory can make baby versions of it." Carlos didn't care what Lando was saying because all of his attention was on you. Oscar's hands were wrapped around you and your midsection. "Carlos are you listening?"

"Yeah," Carlos coughs. "Congrats on your pregnancy Y/N and Oscar." Carlos says and leaves the McLaren room.

Shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads Beer sticking to the floor Cheers chanted, cause they said There was no chance, trying to be The greatest in the league Where's the trophy? He just comes running over to me

It was the end of the Monaco Grand Prix, Charles had won the race and Oscar was in second place. As soon as Oscar parked his car and ran out to you so he can hug and kiss. All cameras were on you two as this was the first time you were showing your baby bump to the public. Before Oscar went up to the podium, he kneeled down and kiss your baby bump.

The rest of the McLaren plus Lando, lifted Oscar away from you so that he can get to the podium. There Oscar and Charles got their trophies while you and Alexandra were smiling happily at them. Once the national anthems were played, the drivers got to spray each other with champagne.

There's no chance to be the greatest in league due to Max's dominance in F1, but you knew Oscar was on a high right now in life. From getting married, to soon having a baby girl, and now getting his first podium of the season. Life was just beautiful.

These blokes warm the benches We been on a winning streak He jokes that it's heroin but this time with an "E"

Once Charles was done with his post race interview, the interviewer starts talking to Oscar. "Congrats Oscar on your first podium of the season and becoming a father soon. It's amazing how these two happened weeks apart."

"Thank you for the congratulations. From getting married at my home country, to finding out we'll be having a baby girl, to now getting my first podium of the season. I'm truly on a high with life right now." Oscar smiles at the camera knowing that you're watching the post race interview with Lando.

"Right now McLaren is in 3rd place for constructor's standings compared to last year's standings at 6th place. Tell me what you and Lando are doing for the team." The interviewer asks.

"Well Lando has been on a winning streak getting podiums after China but to be honest we're not doing anything different. It's all my wife's doing. I joke with her that she's like heroin but this time with an 'E' at the end." Everyone except for Carlos in the room laughs at Oscar's little joke.

"And soon you're going to be having a baby girl." Charles adds to the conversation. "You'll have two lucky charms on track." They both smile at the interviewer before they move on to Carlos' interview.

This happens once every few lifetimes

yourinstagram this happens once every few lifetimes 🌊 ✨

tagged oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri thank god for the alchemy or else our love would've never created this ✨

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taylorswift congrats mama can't wait to meet her

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user1 mother swift approves of oscar and y/n using the alchemy lyrics 🥹

user2 MOTHER IS ACTUALLY BECOMING A MOTHER AHHHHH

mclaren BABY PAPAYA COMING SOON 🥺👶🧡✨

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oscarpiastri baby papaya coming soon 🧡

tagged yourinstagram

mclaren baby papaya is already so loved by the mclaren family 🥺🧡

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racerbia yay! i get to be a tita aunt to a little papaya 🧡

liked by author and yourinstagram

landonorris IM CALLING DIBS ON BEING THE GOD FATHER

yourinstagram i already picked a god father and it isnt you landonorris WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT ISN'T ME? charlesleclerc it's me and alex landonorris WHAT!! @/yourinstagram @/oscarpiastri say sike 😭 oscarpiastri she's messing around with you of course your the god father landonorris thank god 😅 charlesleclerc have another one already so i can be the god father to that one yourinstagram LET ME HAVE MY BABY FIRST

user1 not lando and charles fighting over who's gonna be the god father 🤣

user2 i love how they’re calling the baby "baby papaya" instead of "baby piastri" 🥺

f1news BABY PAPAYA COMING SOON: After Oscar's first podium of the season, the couple has announced that they are expecting their first bundle of joy weeks after getting married. The driver had made it know that Y/N Piastri, his wife and teammate's sister, was expecting after running to her before he went on the podium.

Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Piastri on your bundle of joy!

user1 OSCAR MOVING IN THE FAST LANE WHILE CARLOS IS GETTING HIS HEART PUNCTURED LIKE HIS TIRE 🤣

user2 wonder how carlos is feeling after seeing his ex fiance go from getting married to now being pregnant in a span of a few weeks

user3 who cares because he missed his shot of having this in his life

user4 did you see that carlos was about to cry while oscar was talking about y/n and the baby? 😭

tagged: @omgsuperstarg @splaterparty0-0 @2pagenumb @c-losur3

#f1 #taylor swift #lando norris x reader #the tortured poets department #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x reader #lando norris #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #carlos sainz #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #charles lecrelc #mclaren #ferrari #fluff

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triptrippy · 10 months ago

Note

OBSESSED with Fry as that chemist video.

Fry: yeah I was distilling mercury in my driveway—

Beryl: MERCURY?!

I’m just laughing so hard I love Fry so much

#dm oc tag #sorry this image is so fucking huge. you chose to be here

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backmuscles21 · 11 months ago

Text

You're Supposed To Be Ours

Recoms x Reader

Summary: You are an RDA chemist, you have caught the eyes of all the recoms. They can be a little possessive. So, when they see you talking with someone else, they need to teach you your place and where you belong. Warnings: smut, belly bulge, size kink, begging, spanking, orgasm denial/delay, punishment, possessive behaviour, sub/dom undertones

You came to Pandora as a chemist, they needed you to run tests on water, plants, rocks, and other elements. Basically, what they wanted you to do was make a periodic table for the things on Pandora.

Easier said than done.

However, you did love your job and you loved the planet. One thing you loved the most about your job was the new relationship you started. You have an avatar body for when you go on missions to collect samples to test and figure out their composition. Since you have a trillion-dollar avatar body and were only a scientist, you needed protection. And what better protection than the new Na’vi recom soldiers? Plus, they were tall, strong, and muscular.

So that is how you met your new lovers. You learned that they were a little hard-headed, very strong, very loyal, and pretty jealous. Not necessarily jealous of each other, they saw themselves as a family, but with literally anyone else. When you told them you liked boy boys and girls you couldn’t talk to a single soul without them feeling a tinge of jealousy. Some were good at hiding it others had it written all over their face, it didn’t really bother you too much, you had them.

You would go to work and then go back to them, sometimes in your human body or in your avatar. Not too many people knew you were with all the recoms, the only people that really knew were some of the people in your department. They had seen you with them when they dropped you off or came by to pick you up after you finished work or when they would visit you while you were working. It was always someone different, but it was always one of your tall blue lovers.

Some of your co-workers liked to pick on you a little for being with them and fucking the aliens. You didn’t care, you loved them deeply, and you wouldn’t ever trade them for the world.

But one day, when one of them came to visit you while you were working, they saw you talking with some of your co-workers. You were laughing and smiling and you just tucked your hair behind your ears, you did that when you were flustered.

It was Prager who came to visit you, he was feeling tired and in a cuddly mood and he always sought you out when he got that way. He was angry that you’d be talking with this guy that you worked with. You should be laughing with anyone but them, you were theirs. So, Prager went back to the recom common room to tell everyone what he saw.

He stormed back to the common room, punched in the door code and stomped in.

“What happened? Did she say she had to work? Cause I told you so,” Lopez said with a smirk.

Prager didn’t answer, instead, he gathered everyone in the common area.

“What’s going on? Care to explain?” Miles asked.

“I went to see her and I saw her but she was talking and laughing with another guy. They were supposed to be working and she even tucked her hair behind her ears. She was flirting with him; I couldn’t believe it. So, I came back here to tell you guys,” Prager explained.

“What was she doing?” Mansk asked, always trying to work out situations, giving you the benefit of the doubt.

“She was by her microscope, she was writing on some papers, but then she stopped and she gave him her undivided attention,” Prager explained

“Well, let’s go see this then,” Lyle said wanting to confirm it.

Miles put his arm out to stop Lyle, “no. We wait till she finishes work, she has to anyway. Then we will confront her. You know she can’t lie worth a damn and will crumble under us. She can also explain her side of the story and we will go from there.”

“Are we gonna punish her?” Walker asked with a slight smirk.

“Depends. She might have an explanation and then we will just tone down our usual punishment. If she doesn’t deny it and says what she did, we will use a lesser punishment. If she tries to hide it and denies it, we will go no bars held. She knows her safe word,” Miles explained to everyone.

“When is she done?” Zdog asked.

“A few hours. I’ll pick her up. I intimidate her the most,” Miles said as he smirked at his fellow soldiers.

“So, what do we do till then?” Ja asked.

“We could try to get her out early. Maybe do a random walk-by and see if it’s continuing?” Fike suggested.

“That’s the first smart thing you’ve ever said,” Lopez smirked.

“Go fuck yourself,” Fike said to Lopez with a scoff and smile while rolling his eyes.

So, a few hours passed and Miles left a couple of minutes before you were supposed to finish for the day. He walked in front of the glass doors of the chemistry lab, there were multiple scientists working away. Then his eyes landed on you, looking into different Petri dishes and writing stuff down. He fell in love with you all over again, he couldn't believe how gorgeous you were. Both your human body and your avatar body were absolutely stunning, he understood why people wanted you, not that they’d ever get you.

He opened the door and walked in, he saw you look up and smile brightly. He walked over to you and placed his hands on your shoulders and watched you finish your notes.

“I’m almost done give me five minutes.”

“Take your time cupcake,” Miles said patting your shoulders.

He noticed your co-workers staring at you and him and then whispering to each other, he knew they liked to gossip. He wasn’t bothered by them and he knew you weren’t either but he still didn’t like it. He gave them a slight scowl and turned back towards you.

Finally, you and him left the lab and went to the recom-only areas. Once you entered the room and saw all of your lovers right there you were surprised.

“Woah, what’s going on? Did I miss something? Is there a special occasion?” You said slightly nervous.

Miles came up behind you and placed his hands on your shoulders and squeezed a little bit. “We needed to talk to you about something and we need you to be honest.”

“What’s up?” You said it slowly, you were kind of scared.

“Were you flirting with one of your co-workers today?” Miles asked.

“Flirting? You think I would purposely flirt with someone I work with? That’s like giving that person a death wish. I wasn’t trying to flirt with anyone, if that happened, I’m sorry that it did, it was not my intention.”

“But you were flustered. I saw you tuck your hair behind your ears,” Prager said.

“I was using my microscope a lot today and I forgot my hair tie. You know how I hate my hair in my face. I just happened to tuck my hair behind my ears a lot today.”

“But you were laughing and talking with him then you looked down and tucked your hair behind your ears. You were flustered, he made you flustered.”

“I swear I never intended for that to happen. I have to talk with my coworkers, I need them to tolerate me. I work with them and there’s no replacing them or me so we have to get along. I promise I was not intentionally flirting with anyone I work with.”

“But you were being friendly,” Lyle said.

“Yeah, but I need to be. I need them to like me. I’m friendly to anyone I talk to. I don’t talk to a lot of people other than you guys but I’m not an asshole.”

“I think you need to learn your place,” Miles said leaning over to whisper in your ear.

Your eyes went wide, they planned on punishing you for this.

“Do I need my avatar for this?”

“No, we will be tame enough for a human.”

You breathed out loudly through your nose trying to calm yourself. You didn’t hate when this happened, it was hot. However, it was just a lot and it was tiring and it was just so much for your little body.

Miles started to move his hands down to your hips, then he moved them from your hips to slide up your sides and take your shirt off. You lifted your arms to help him take your shirt off, he threw your top onto the floor and touched your smooth skin again. His hands went to your back and unclasped your bra, he took it off you as well and let it fall to the floor. Miles smiled as he watched everyone state at you, he placed his large hands on your tits and pulled you into his body. He started to play with your nipples and it made you cry out.

You could see the smirks on everyone’s faces as they watched you whine while being toyed with. Miles' hands then found the hem of your pants, he unbuttoned them and let them fall to the floor.

“These are cute,” Miles said as he revealed your panties to the recoms. He grabbed the band of your panties on your hip and let it slap against your skin.

“Now, be a good girl and go apologize to Prager first. He wanted you so badly and he had to see you openly flirting,” Miles said as he slapped your ass as you walked over to Prager.

You sat on Prager’s lap and kissed him; Prager’s hands roamed your body before staying on your hips. He squeezed the flesh of your hips and occasionally your butt, you found yourself naturally rolling your hips into him. You could feel him getting harder and harder, you then got off him to kneel in front of him. You started to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants; you pulled out his hard cock. Your hands were so tiny compared to his Na’vi-sized dick; you stroked him a few times before you took him into your mouth.

It was hard to take him into your mouth but you pushed through, his hand grasped at your hair as you sucked him off. He was moaning out lowly as you did the best you could to get as deep as possible, what you couldn’t reach you stroked. Prager was trying to not jerk his hips and start fucking your face but he couldn’t help it, you were just so good. You focused on his head, pushing your tongue onto it and swirling it around. You tried to keep your teeth from hitting his shaft but it was so hard when he was stretching your mouth to its limits. You knew he was close just from the way his thighs twitched and his cock twitched in your mouth.

You pushed him to the back of your throat as he came, it went right down and as you pulled off him, you looked up at him. He was smiling, he looked so blissed out.

“Do you forgive me?”

“Of course, baby,” Prager said stroking your head.

“Don’t be so nice to her. We’re not done here,” Miles said as he walked over to you and picked you up.

Miles placed you down on your stomach on one of the recom-sized tables, your legs dangled helplessly as he held you there with a hand on your back. Lyle walked up next to Miles and kissed your back a few times, his hand then replaced Miles as he stood behind you. He ground his semi-erect cock into your butt before his other hand stroked down your back, landing on your left butt cheek.

“You gonna count ‘em?”

You nodded, “yeah,” you breathed out feeling yourself get more turned on.

His large hand landed a good smack on your butt cheek, it had a good echoing sound.

“One,” you staggered out.

His hand gripped your butt cheek after the smack, his hand rubbed the area as it left your skin coming down again.

“Two.”

You could hear him snickering as he played with your butt cheek a bit before landing a few concurrent slaps to your left cheek.

“Three.”

“Four.”

“Five.”

You couldn’t lie, it was starting to hurt. You knew that this is what was supposed to happen, it was supposed to cause a bit of pain. You liked it but their recom size and strength was a bit much, it just felt raw more than painful, but you could still handle it.

“Six,” you whined out as Lyle slapped your butt again.

He was definitely an ass man but also a boob man, this man was just horny and would take what he could get. He loved all bodies, all sizes, and all parts, but he had a favourite, big juicy asses. He loved a nice jiggly butt, nothing was better, he liked getting to slap, squeeze, pinch, fondle, lick, kiss, suck, bite, whatever he could do, he wanted it. That’s why he was perfect for this job, he could get off on watching your butt jiggle as he slapped your butt.

“Seven.”

Lyle hit the same left cheek, you started to lurch forward as he made contact. It was getting to be quite painful but you were almost done, he almost always went to 10. If he tried more, you might stop him, if he would actually stop.

“Eight.”

You squeezed your eyes when Lyle made impact, you were moaning out at every hit. You could also feel how hard Lyle was, he had to be leaking.

“Nine.”

The finish line was so close, one more and you’d be done. You felt the hand on your back move to your hip, that was new. Both his hands then held your hips and he lifted your hips up a bit and that’s when you felt his cock head rubbing through your folds. You didn’t even hear him unzip his pants, He then pushed in as he slapped your left cheek one last time.

“Ten,” you cried out as he pushed a few inches into you.

Your hands tried to grip at the table, your fingertips pressing into the table while your knuckles bent. Your back was trying to arch with no success, Lyle held you in place as he slowly pushed in more and more.

“Feel how hard you made me by just having your ass on display. I guarantee now pussy ass science puke could fuck you like this. Could get as hard as this. Could get as deep as this. Could make you scream out like this.”

He was praising himself as he started to thrust in and out of you, he was praising how good their recom bodies could fuck you. Hoping that you’d never even think about your coworkers ever again, hoping that you’d never even look at another person.

“Lyle, fuck, Lyle,” you reached your hand back for him, “please.”

“Please what, buttercup?”

“More.”

“You got it babe.”

Lyle sped up and went deeper, you moaned out and he smirked. Your forehead hit the table as you cried out, he couldn’t help but get harder at the sight of you soaking up what he was giving you.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking deep.”

“You like it baby? I can do more. I can already feel myself inside you.”

Lyle smirked as he kissed your back, you could feel his hand on your stomach just below your navel. Your arm slowly moved down there to feel where his hand was, you could feel his cock poking through your skin. You’d seen it and felt it before but it got you every time, it was so hot to know how they were bulging out of you. it just made you feel so small, it was so hot to feel it, even more so when you’d press on it and you’d hear whoever was in you moan.

Like now, pressed down on your lower stomach had Lyle moaning and grunting, he kept thrusting faster and faster before cumming deep in you. While it felt good and it was hot, you didn’t cum and that was probably their plan for tonight, not stimulate you enough to cum or deny you of it all together.

Lyle pulled out and moved away from you, he then lifted you up and placed you in the lap of Lopez. He already had his cock out, he held onto your hips before helping you to sink down on his thick cock. You gripped onto his shoulders for dear life as you felt the stretch, nothing helped with the stretch. Even after Lyle just fucked the shit out of you, you still weren’t meant for their large bodies.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing the shit out of me, baby girl,” Lopez said resting his forehead in yours.

He slowly sunk you down further and further until he stopped and started to lift your body up and down on his cock. Your head rested on his shoulder as you cried out, your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled your bodies close together.

“Please, please, please, let me cum,” you whined out. You figured begging might help.

“I’m glad you figured it out. Sooner than I thought. Either way, you won’t be cumming for some time,” Miles said from right behind you. You felt him kiss your shoulder after he told you, his plan.

You whined out from Miles' words and from feeling Lopez go in deeper. You knew you had to cum, but you also knew you couldn’t otherwise your punishment would get worse. Your mouth bit into Lopez’s bare shoulder as you focused on not cumming. The grip Lopez had on your body got tighter as you tried your best to follow Miles’ orders.

“Fuck baby girl, you’re gripping me so fucking hard.”

“Well, I’m trying not to cum. You’re just hitting it perfectly.”

He made a particular few thrusts up into you at really stroked your walls beautifully. You moaned out, holding onto him harder as you held back the best you could.

“Miles please let me cum, I can’t hold it back, please.”

“You’re not cumming.”

You knew asking Lopez was futile, he wasn’t going to let you cum anymore than Miles would. You knew that you would just have to hold off, but that was going to be even harder shortly. After Lopez finally came, you felt yourself finally be able to let your body relax, but that didn’t last long.

“You good with going upside down?” Walker asked smirking in your ear. She bit the lobe of your ear lightly as she wrapped her arms around your waist. She lifted you up off Lopez and took you to where she was sitting. She rested your back on her thighs and took your hips lifting them up to her mouth. Your legs straddled her head as she smiled at you between them.

“Wait I can’t, she gonna make me cum. All she does is know how to stimulate. She doesn’t stop till I cum.”

“That’s your problem, honey,” Walker smiled as she attached her mouth to your clit.

Your head pushed back against her knees as you moaned out loudly. Your hands gripped the armrests and your eyebrows furrowed; your mouth was agape as Walker pulled moan after moan from your mouth. It was such a compliment to her to see you stuck in a state like this. However, it didn’t take long before she had you cumming, it was going to happen, and you were already holding back. You were so sensitive, it didn’t matter, any stimulation was going to get you to cum.

Walker slurped at your pussy as she took everything you gave her.

“I hope you enjoyed that. Because you’re in for it now.”

You stared up at Miles, you could see how much his hard cock was pushing his pants out from your position. You could feel yourself getting more turned on. Miles picked you up and laid you back on the table from earlier. He more or less dropped you and held you on your back. He snarled as he watched you squirm under his large hand, his jaw moved from side to side.

He was planning how he wanted to abuse your poor pussy.

One thing you learned about him was he enjoyed eye contact. If he was eating you out, he’d stare at you and you better be staring back. Same with when you gave him head, on top of that, while fucking he also wanted to see your eyes. You couldn’t close them from pain or pleasure, you had to keep them on his. He made you stare at him as he unbuttoned his pants, he kept eye contact with you as he roughly pushed into you. He pushed all of his length into you in one go, it made you moan out loudly. You have been prepared well enough but it still stung and especially just from how he just pushed it all inside. He was bottomed out and he was one of the longer and thicker ones. He started to thrust into you right away, he took no prisoners either.

He was merciless, he lifted a leg to rest it on the table to get better leverage to fuck you deeper. Your small hands clawed at his back; you were in pain but it felt so good. Miles was deep inside, he was fast and normally at this point, you’d just lay your hand on your lower stomach to feel the bulge of his cock outlined in your skin. You couldn’t your body was so wound up, he was stimulating you so much, you just gripped onto his skin.

Your abs were so tightly restricted, you were just constantly being overstimulated. Your eyes fought to stay open to stare into his as he fucked you, all you wanted to do was close your eyes and throw your head back. You fought with yourself to keep from letting your body feel the pleasure, you had to keep your eyes open. Not to mention, even if you begged, he probably wouldn’t have let you cum.

“Miles, Miles, please, I can’t. I have to cum.”

“You will wait till I do then I will let you.”

You sighed out in protest, you could barely hold it, you wanted to cum now. You knew he wouldn’t be too much longer but still, you had to cum now. You felt him twitch, he was close he had to be, it was light there was light at the end of the tunnel. He came deep inside you; you cried out as it just filled you up.

“Miles, please, can I cum?”

His sharp deep thrusts didn’t stop, “have at it, cupcake.”

It only took a second after he finished his sentence for you to cry out while cumming. Your body moved on its own, your eyes squeezed shut and the top of your head hit the table. It was probably one of the most intense orgasms the recoms have ever given your human body. Miles kissed your sternum a few times before pulling out, Ja was quick to pick your tired and spent body up and place you in his arms. He sat down with your body resting on his, he was grounding you by rubbing at your back and running a hand through your hair.

“Don’t you want to get off too?”

“No, baby. You’ve done too much. Your body is tired and probably sore. We can wait,” Ja said to you.

“But I’ve taken you all before?”

“Yeah, that was when you were taking two or three of us at once and we didn’t make you hold your orgasms. You rest, we have all the time in the world,” Zdog said butting in to kiss your tired and sweaty face.

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50cal-fullauto-astarion · 5 months ago

Text

SUCROSE

Sugar Daddy!Older!König x Organic Chemist!Civ!FReader [NSFW, 4.3k]

You're an organic chemist that sugar babies for a laugh, because your days are dull and long. König is an old, battered soldier of fortune that has been sugaring you with an intensity bordering on religion. Neither of you are going to say the quiet part out loud.

CW: unprotected vaginal sex, doggy style, descriptions of nuclear annihilation, descriptions of the opioid crisis, criminally emotionally constipated adults. Barely edited.

König’s place is Spartan. Most things about him are. But he tells you to do whatever you want, you've got his black card if you want anything, and you raise a brow in question.

“Anything, huh?”

He gives you a dry look. “Anything. Literally, I do not give a shit.”

Almost sounds like a dare.

You don't make yourself too-too at home. This thing is still new—the arrangement, the dynamic, the thrill. You know better that it could burn out at any second and leave you all the way hanging. Not a worry, because you are in charge of yourself, and this is only for fun.

You've been too abrasive for too long to have faith in the idea that others will look out for you. That's always been your duty to yourself. It's sacred. It's safety.

But he breathes you deep, wanting you in a way that feels like need.

He likes it when you just come over to his place, because you don't invite him to yours. He likes it when you don't wear anything fancy in particular. He likes it when you put on his boxers and his t-shirt and crash on the bed with him.

“Bad work day?” he asks, gaiter pulled up over his nose, hiding his face while some bullshit plays on the TV and his fingers rub tenderly behind your ear.

“Hm.” It's a huff of a laugh. You stay resting on his chest. Your fingertips have only just slipped under the waistband of his sweats, resting on the small paunch at the bottom of his belly. “Didn't want you getting too comfortable alone.”

“Never been,” he laughs in return, a low and rough haa. “The sentiment is appreciated.”

You feel bad for trying to make the joke. You've never been comfortable alone, either. “It's just something you learn to live around,” you further, hoping like hell he understands, because you lack the words otherwise.

“Yeah,” he hums, his arm tightening where it wraps around you, because he does. “Yeah.”

There are the quiet nights like those, when he just likes having you pulled tight to his body, running your hand over his stomach, ignoring the litany of scars—surgical, and violent, and otherwise—marring his hide.

Then there are nights where he's a nightmare, and it is a riot to play with him.

There's no preamble, only action. He sends you money for dinner, and the moment you're done, you're asked over to his place.

“Do you want me to pick anything up for you? To eat,” you clarify, standing on the curb outside of the first restaurant he ever took you to—it's become a regular in your rotation. You're still in your work clothes. You don't even feel particularly human, just functional.

Fuck's sake, you didn't even expect him to call tonight.

“No,” he says, his voice tense, even on the phone, “just you. Now.”

You're barely able to knock on the door before he's snapping it open, gaiter pulled up, wearing Dickies and a fleece.

“You g—?” You don't even get to finish asking, body in flight.

You yelp in surprise as he snatches an arm around your waist, the other sliding up your sensible, frumpy skirt, curling under your thigh.

He picks you up like you weigh nothing, and your stomach flips at the bizarre, alien sensation. You've never been small. Delicate. Petite—what a vile word, an ideal adored by many, one that you've never embodied, and never could. There is no amount of plastic surgery or product that will ever make you desirably little. A stupid and furious bead burns down into your sternum, one that turns its face from all the boys and men that moaned for you, buried balls-deep in your tight cunt, only to spin a tight 180° and bitch that they wanted a woman they could toss around, manhandle, feel powerful for moving.

They would fuck you, and want you, but only at the demand of curiosity, lust, novelty. Who would claim you. Who would ache for you.

König pulls you onto his hip, gripping your ass cheek tight in one hand, and carries you to the bed.

“On all fours,” he growls, turning and swallowing hard, fishing out his wallet, and as an afterthought catches up with him, he adds, “please.”

Your heart is racing from the way he'd bodily executed his decision with you. Your brain is shocked into a standby state, working on intuition and instinct. You arrange yourself on hands and knees, ass up in the air, and pull your panties down, hobbling your knees. At least those kinda cute, and you have the thigh high hose on, sheer and black with lines down the back.

You thank every fucking deity you know that you hadn't done your laundry and had clean long-johns to wear under baggy jeans today.

He drops things in front of your face. Papers.

“What,” you grunt, not a question, a complete incomprehension.

“Read those.” As if that wasn't clear. He hooks his hands under your hips, making you grab for the papers when he drags you to the edge of the bed. There's popping and a grunt as he gets on his knees behind you, and you barely tighten up your throat enough to catch the bark that wants to escape.

“Fuck—don't!” you snap, frenzied, but he licks a hot, wet stripe from your clit to your asshole, about ready to bury his face.

His fingers keep your ass spread open and they tense with frustration when he snipes back, “Vas? What the fuck could you—”

“Just fuck me, I'm already good.” You hear another sound of frustration out of him, something that feels like don't be dumb, since you both know exactly how fucking big his cock is, even for your well-played cunt. “You already got me going,” you hiss, shifting your hips, hating that you feel you have to admit this at all, “you—when you picked me up. That did enough. Just—it's time to fuck.”

His hands relax, sliding to push your ugly skirt up over your hips. “Just from picking you up?” he asks, as if that should be impossible.

“Yes, just from picking me up,” you shoot back, this close to hiding your face in your arms. “I don’t get picked up. I don’t get—moved. Whatever. It was new. That doesn’t happen to me, unless you’ve somehow missed how I’m fucking built.”

All the air goes out of the room as you pull the admission like pulling your own teeth. A crack in the careful facade. A hairline fracture. You are not perfectly unflappable. You are not wholly without insecurity. You are as weak and human as everyone else.

What a strange, ugly feeling to allow passage through your chest; a slow, inky swimmer swooping around your lungs and stomach, turning everything it touches to ice. You’re supposed to be untouchable, aren’t you? You’ve gone years without that odd, festering jealousy rearing its head. You’re not sure why it does so now.

König just taps the papers again, his breathing strained and heavy, bending to kiss your neck, just below the spot behind your ear that makes your skin snap with static electricity. “Let me eat your pussy while you read those. Don’t like condoms. Don’t want to use them anymore,” he grunts, the teeth he presses into your neck making you realize that he’s pulled down his gaiter.

It’s a weird enough request that it resets your brain. It allows you to read, your head fogged with discordant lust and curiosity as he sinks back behind you, bathing your pussy in heavy, slow attention with his split tongue teasing your clit.

It’s paperwork. A clean result from a recent STI test, and the discharge paperwork from a vasectomy. For your high-geared mind, it has taken an embarrassingly long time to click. He doesn’t like condoms, and doesn’t want to use them. The papers are assurances to you. He’s clean. He won’t get you pregnant.

In the five percent of your brain that is not being used to process the complete annihilation of your soaked pussy with pleasure, there’s a floor-rolling bout of hysterical, giddy laughter that has taken up residence, darting through the fine links of your firing neurons.

This is a romantic gesture. He is a frightening, stone-faced man, who is twin to you in strangeness, and this is outpouring of bizarre softness and startling understanding. Is there anyone else in the world that has fucked you, let alone exists, that would know the way you find comfort and security in medical results and discharge papers on official letterheads?

If there is, you’ve never met them, and you don’t think you will.

Between his moves—a filthy, slurping plunge into your cunt, figure eights around your swollen and throbbing clit with the halves of his tongue, and almost delicate, sucking kisses that puff your labia—you still find the energy and wherewithal to bust his balls, even as he’s making you so wet that it slicks your thighs, “Alright. So, how do you know I’m clean?” It is a sentence you can barely manage as your body shakes.

There comes a laugh, rumbling and serrated, as he nips your shaking thigh with his teeth, paired with a familiar clap on the ass like you’re a breeding mare prized not for progeny but sentiment and a fondness for your rotten, crank attitude. “You’re mean as a fucking snake, Schatzi, but I know you’re not mean enough to let me tongue-fuck you if you had something.”

You maybe should not laugh at such a succinct round-up of one of your most defining character flaws, but you are, and you grin sharply looking back over your shoulder at him as he rises. His hands—huge, warm, coarse, careful—slide over your hips to savor your shape.

“Further up the bed,” he coaches you, leaning forward just long enough to press a heavy kiss to your mouth, pushing his tongue past your lips so you can taste yourself mixed with his natural metallic tang.

One of your hands comes to his jaw, pulling him back in when he tries to move away, for just one selfish moment more, swirling your tongues together, needful of his heat and his closeness and the feeling of your noses crushes together as clumsy as college freshmen set loose in a wide, free world.

“You don’t do fuck-all in half-measures,” you mutter, hand finally sliding away, your lids clicking open crisp. You love seeing the scars mutilating his mouth, the way that flush brightens the coppery tint of his skin. The silver in his hair seems brighter, and the gold of the wheat-colored strands giving the silver a home seems deeper, more molten.

He is a beautiful man. He is a beautiful, beautiful man, and the look he gives you reads weakness.

What a rotten old soldier. What a battered old war dog.

You don’t want to think about what it means if the weakness isn’t a figment of your imagination. If it is symptomatic of a larger trend; an oncoming crisis, a trend that sweeps and fells and swallows up entire communities, with a bent toward becoming endemic to the local culture, and almost impossible to kill forever after.

The opioid epidemic has always come in greater, and greater waves.

The first in the nineties, off natural and semi-synthetic painkillers, a slow swell beginning with easier manufacturing, laxer laws, and gargantuan pharmaceutical conglomerates pushing-pushing-pushing the easy writing of prescriptions on countless doctors. Generational seeds buried in families, in communities—germinating at inhuman rates, weaving addiction into the DNA.

The second came with the second decade of the new millenia. A resurgence in heroin, when the world began to come down on doctors with fat Rx pads and quick-writing fingers. When you cannot find a fix legally, you will find it illegally, and it comes at much higher a cost.

There were always more waves, and different ones, and quieter ones. There were always synthesizers, cookers, designers, manufacturers—legal and illegal alike.

Fent, roxie, percs, bars. Heroin, krokodil, bath salts, flakka. Uppers. Downers. Barbiturates, benzos, phenobarbital.

It all ties into dopamine, and the ancient, pointlessly leftover biological mechanic of addiction. The sizzling, bumpers-and-bells-and-bright-lights screech of a reward center well-fed.

König is a beast of a man, and his brain is brutally hardwired for addiction. He's an alcoholic in on-off recovery, he's a medical req amphetamine junkie. He no longer chases adrenaline like most men chase tail, but he sprints after it in his tense, jerking dreams.

He's just a dog, with wet sad eyes, and his heart chases after trucks that will never see him around blind turns. His surety that the next roaring beast coming around the switchback bend will finally love him back is the thing that is going to kill him.

König can't spell for shit, and his grammar is a barely functional mess of punctuation and weird spacing, but he has a terrifying mind for numbers and nuclear engineering. He's told you before that it takes 10^-20 seconds for an atom to split to kickoff nuclear fission, the process that powers atomic bombs.

You're a doctor, and it didn't at all feel stupid to ask, “Fuck. How can you even comprehend how fast that is?”

You walked side-by-side with him in winter coats. He shrugged at the time, and said, “Hm. Alright, you're at the market. You're looking at apples, or arugula, or fish, or whatever the fuck. We don't know who hit the button, but the missile carrying the warhead is going twenty-four thousand K-P-H. Fifteen thousand miles per hour. You're in Berlin. As soon as the launch is registered, everyone starts launching.”

He stepped closer, elbow bumping yours. When he registered your hard swallow, he slid his arm around your neck and pulled you into his side.

“So the bombs are launched,” you prompted him, tucked into his side. “When do I die?”

“You died ten minutes before World War III ended,” he hummed, pressing his nose into the spot before your ear, brushing his gaiter-covered lips over your cheek and ear lobe, “you were turned into pure carbon staining the ground, and you never knew there was a bomb.”

10^-20 seconds for the bomb to perfectly obliterate any and all existence of your entire life. Annihilation so utter, there would be no DNA leftover.

Bombs, destruction, drugs, addiction.

Control. Control. Control.

König will never know that you passed through the eye of the needle in close to the same fucking unfathomable shard of a second, fighting tooth and nail to choose between launching off the bed, denying his low-simmering feelings, and black listing his entire existence in your memory—versus embracing the insane, helpless plummet, releasing your death grip on the demand of understanding and autopsy of everything unknown.

Your hand loosens on that chain.

“Yeah, fuck it. Fuck me,” you say, recovering from the staggering out of body experience.

He leaves you ass-up in the cold of his apartment, windows open, and returns with his laptop and his black card, throwing them down in front of you. His hands clap your skin as they land on your hips, anchoring him as he pulls himself into place behind you, stroking his cock needlessly because it can't possibly get any harder or fatter.

“Buy whatever you fucking want. You've got ten grand. You don't spend it, you don't cum,” he grunts in a hoarse voice, and that's every bit of warning you get before he plunges his cock in your soaked, swollen pussy, bucking and grunting as you spasm around him and try to scurry away out of instinct. His hips slam against your ass, hands dragging you back against him, and you feel and hear the noise ripping in his throat like the gut-growl start of a chainsaw.

There’s a wolverine in your throat—something, perhaps, that fought hard, and died even harder than that in another life—and it does not take kindly to being bossed, bucked, bitched. It bares its fangs through your mouth, goading you to turn your head, to catch König’s eyes and lock onto them like you’ve caught him in unkind crosshairs.

“Do I still get to cum if I just make one big, fat buy?” you ask hoarsely, the silver of your teeth flashing between your lips like a threat, eyes wild and too-bright. “Maybe I buy you a decent fucking couch? A good dining table?”

That mauled mouth of his curls into a smirk, and his hand skates up your back—turning threat and tenderness into a single entity—gripping the back of your neck firmly, but not cruelly, as he redirects you to the screen.

“You could. Of course, you fucking could. I’m not a liar. But.” He bends low, snapping a sharp and sweet love bite against the skin of your neck, in a spot that your collars will barely hide. “That would be fucking boring. I don’t think you’re boring.”

The tone begs you to tell him he’s wrong in a challenge.

You laugh, backed into a clever corner, gripping the sides of the laptop, dragging it closer as he starts a slow, rolling rhythm, sliding his cock in and out of you. Just taking his sweet time, warming you up all over again, getting those stiff hips of his to unlock, too—more used to marching and storming, now, than fucking.

You start by faking him out as he stretches your wet, throbbing pussy with his grappling-to-relax rhythm, pulling up a Tiffany Co. hardware necklace selling for $4,100.00. Its greatest sins are that it is not only ugly, but, far worse, it is boring.

“Schatzi,” he growls, fingers tightening on your hips, and, good fuck, it makes you laugh. That earns you the slam of his hips flush to your ass, stealing the air from your lungs, and his huge hand tightens in the back of your hair, bringing your eyes back up as your head swims and your stomach jumps.

“Got the hint,” you wheeze, clicking off the tab, trying to focus on anything but the size of him inside you, pounding you like a brutal metronome. His breathing is tight, and every stroke of his cock sails him straight across your g-spot. Makes your brain shimmer like the bath bombs and body lava you load your carts with. Makes your guts feel filled with poured platinum, same shade and shine as the teal sapphire pendant earrings you purchase.

The orgasm builds in your lower belly—a broiling heat, a ten-ton tightness, driving your pelvis down with its demanding weight—and König stays steady fucking you, relentless with his perfect, unerring rhythm. Somehow that makes it so much more difficult to withstand.

The first time you had fucked, he had lasted so long you thought he wasn’t going to fucking cum at all, but, no. He was just beastly in bed, sweat pouring down his temples and chest, eyes smirking over his mask until you ripped the fucking thing down and kissed him. He’d tasted, wonderfully, of your pussy and pleasure.

The stamina of a maniac, and the patience he professes that his younger self could’ve never maintained.

At $8,370, your focus gives, and you almost collapse, elbows sliding out from under you. You bury your head in the blankets beneath you, smelling his cologne and the faint odor of his sleep sweat, and it turns your stomach into a cyclone. You’re kissing the razor’s edge of finishing, so close you feel it flooding your blood like the skull-crack cold of a fresh IV line of saline on a hot, sick stomach.

All at once, he stops, one hand heavy-spread across your lower back, the other tight around the shape of your hip.

“H-huh, f—fuck,” you moan, pathetic and brainless.

“You done?” he asks, breathing hard. He grunts like the grit of a stone mill when you nod your head, then shake it, body too confused to settle on an answer. “Think about it. You’re almost there. Tell me how much you have left to spend.”

You turn your head in the blankets, taking a sideways glance at the screen. It’s hard to tell. His hand slips lower, between your legs, cupping your pussy and applying pressure, though he doesn’t play with you.

Simple math. You’re a doctor. This should not be difficult. But Sisyphus would have an easier time pushing his damned boulder up his hill than you are with basic subtraction.

“One—one-six-three-nil.”

“Mm. Mhm. Sixteen hundred. I’m almost done, want you to cum, too. Get creative.” His voice is hoarse, tight with restraint, and even in your stupor, you can tell he’s struggling as much as you are.

With a sluggish nod, painfully conscious of his cock sitting heavy and throbbing in your cunt, you pull yourself up on one shoulder, slumping as close to the laptop as you can manage. The next page you go to belongs to his bank, and his fingers knead into the small of your back as you one-handed type his account information (the gift of an obscene amount of trust, or the hallmark insanity of a man who simply does not have a spare fuck to give).

Takes ten seconds to transfer a solid two grand into your checking account, and König doesn’t even chuckle.

He fucking moans. A weak, broken-legged sound that shakes his entire body so thoroughly it rings through yours like church bells.

His grip tightens, and he muscles you onto your back like an afterthought. Slops your legs back open and drops all his weight on top of you, burying his face against yours as he fucks right back into you. He’s done dicking around (you would laugh at the stupidity of your own thoughts, had your brain stem not been atomized by this exact man), hitting a nightmare rhythm of thrusting and grinding that rubs your clit, and just tosses what’s left of your mind in the damned incinerator.

The build is so fast and reckless—a nigh-on lethal vent of pressure that leaves you half-blind and shaking, finally allowed to sprint after what felt like a lifetime of restraint—that you’ve already started to cum, and your mind is only just now catching up with your body. König’s breath is furnace-hot, rolling over your skin like the lungs of a bellows press, your cunt spasming and clenching his throbbing cock wildly.

When the world finally takes back control of your facilities—putting a fading, slow halt to your paint smear perception of reality—König is crushing you with his weight. His hands grip at the underside of your thighs, and he breathes into the hair behind your ear. “Will move, soon,” he assures you, but you shake your head.

“Stay put. Your weight feels good,” you respond, chest beautifully crushing under his body, and it calms your heart with the comfort of pressure.

Lazily, and without much thought, you graph out chemical sequences across his back. Prolactin, dopamine, oxytocin, endorphins, serotonin. All the good shit, overwhelming your blood stream.

You're the one to get up for water, calling him ‘old man’ in a snort that earns you a swat to the bare ass, and another gravel-grit laugh. He looks grateful for it all the same—that small measure of care and familiarity.

Dog, dog, dog, your mind chants. He's just an old dog aching for a fleece bed and a kind hand. The stone in your stomach sinks heavier, and you turn your thoughts away from it.

When you return, you collapse in the bed beside him after handing over the glass. He's propped himself against the headboard, legs splayed wide and lazy, the heaving of his chest from exertion shallowed by rest. His profile is harsh in the unfiltered light of his side table lamp, and the cold air blowing in through the cracked windows is a relief on your friction-chafed skin.

His skin is gold in this light, like his lightning-streaked hair. His form is sleek and powerful, even in repose. The bulk of him eats up half of the king-sized bed, dressed in barebones linens, and you think of tragedies. How perfectly-built demigods always came with a fatal flaw that became their death, and how nature couldn't figure out a way to give stronger hearts to massive creatures.

Their bodies simply demanded too much fuel to keep alive for too long. They are powerful, undeniable, and gone so very quickly.

But looking at König, maybe god is too magnificent a term for him. You know he'd despise it. Bomb is a better fit.

Yeah, no. That is the better fit. The type of man he is? One with his nature? He'd be dead before he even realized he'd detonated. And he'd kill as many people as he could with the blast radius.

“You ever think about going back to school?” you ask in a fucked-out rasp, as your lips cut into a lopsided half-smile, and he laughs, smirking.

“I fuck you stupid, or…?” he teases, his teeth glinting in the light of the room, eyes pale and calm like cold water.

‘No,’ is the real answer, and it continues, ‘I have only just discovered the fear that comes after realization, and I have let myself pass through the keyhole to the other side. I have never seen this place, one where there is enough room for another person besides myself, and it frightens me. It could be filled, and it could be emptied, and I know that I do not have the resilience to live with that void.’

“Shit. I think you did,” is what you snort instead, pulling the sheets up over your hips. “I'm going to doze for a little while. Then, I'll call an Uber home.”

König says nothing, making an unsure noise of thought in his throat, but you know he won't pursue his offer, because you will turn it down, and he is fragile when it comes to rejection.

Coward that you are, you allow the invitation to spend the night die in his chest, cemented by him leaving the bed shortly after to shower.

You are not ready to admit to even yourself that there is room for him. What else is there to do but run from it?

#call of duty #cod mw2 #mw2 #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig smut #my work #konig #könig #this is another oc as a 2nd person reader but y'all know the deal by now

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