#maybe it's a good thing that I don't need to clear up anything???

[randomshyperson]

don't run away without me - wanda maximoff oneshots

summary: Wanda's neglect of everything around her, and constant abuse of the darkhold reaches a breaking point - you can't go on like this anymore. | warnings: mainly angst, hurt/comfort, they fight and actually resolve things through dialogue (crazy ik), mutual pining, fluff by the end (you may consider the canon of agatha all along for the "open" ending) | words: 2.588k

a/n-> A month ago i think @iguirisu request an angst one shot, and here it is, i randomly had inspiration for it today at work hope you like; I actually do miss writing about Wanda's depression state, or dark hold influence era.

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-&-

The smell of coffee made you sigh and relax a little.

Natasha smiled affectionately - despite the obvious tiredness and sadness that your gaze hid, it was good to see you a little, even if minimally, more cheerful.

She took her place in the armchair, crossing her legs. In her hand, a hot cup of tea. You, on the other hand, left yours on the table, your fingers nervous.

"You took a while to visit, Y/N." Nat began, without waiting for you to make any excuse, she added; "I was hoping Wanda would come with you."

You look down, a sad laugh escaping you. "Yeah, I asked her to." You mumble, unable to hide your annoyance. “"Things have been... tricky. Ever since Westview. I thought we were doing well, as much as possible, but Wanda..." You sigh, forcing a smile at Nat. "She's been shouting me out."

Natasha takes a sip of her tea before commenting. "She knows none of us hold a grudge against Westview, right? Even though it's been, well, fucked up." 

You laugh weakly at the comment, nodding. You take a sip of your drink too, enjoying the the taste of it. 

Nat stretches out her legs and rests them on the coffee table. "Maybe I should visit." 

You shake your head. "Better not, Nat." You say, and this surprises the redhead a little. You sigh. "It's her magic. She's been restless, and Wanda, well, she gets really nervous sometimes. I tried to talk to her about contacting that witch we faced in Westview, you know? Agatha Harkness. But she won't give in. And that damn book too. I may not be a witch, but I can sense something's wrong." 

The redhead sighs. "Damn, Y/N, that sounds like... a lot." 

You smile weakly. "Yeah, I know. But thanks for having me here, Nat. I guess I needed to get out of that cabin for a bit, to clear my head." 

She shakes her head gently. "Please don't mention it. I think everything would be easier if we all still lived together in the compound. We'd end up making too much noise for Wanda to get stuck in books." Her joke makes you smile, a little nostalgic. Natasha looks at you curiously. "Are you sure you don't want me to visit? We can just, I don't know, talk. Spend some time together. I feel like I haven't seen you guys in... forever."

You smile sadly, looking away at the apartment. It’s exactly how you remember it, the same way Natasha welcomed you from Shield, a safe home for a defected black widow.

“It’s okay, this helps a lot.” You lean back against the couch, resting your back. “Can we talk about something else? Anything. Even if it’s a fantasy.”

She chuckled in confusion. "I don't understand, Y/N."

You sigh sadly. "I just miss you so much, Nat." 

She frowns, adjusting her posture to move closer, taking the seat next to you. "I'm right here, sweetheart." She says, reaching for your hand. You smile, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. 

You lean in to hug her, and for a moment, the feeling is just as you remembered. But it doesn't last long, and with a sigh, you wake up. 

The covers of your bed are tightly wrapped around you, but the cabin is cold and they do little to keep you warm. It's not just the weather, you know. Wanda is reading again, and the darkhold always makes sure that the cold feeling never goes away, even when you turn on the fireplace and sit on the rug in front of it.

You get up without rushing, there's nothing to rush about. You go to the bathroom to wash your face, brush your teeth, but maintain a relaxed appearance of someone who just woke up, which in the past Wanda would comment on how charming you are - but now, she doesn't even look up from her book when you leave the room.

You're not surprised that there's no coffee; if you don't make it, Wanda will just go on without eating, for hours and hours until her body protests with exhaustion.

It's not healthy, you can insist. But she won't give more than a grumble in return.

This morning you prepare pancakes, and some coffee. There are freshly picked apples that manage to bring a small smile to your face. You think it will be like any other morning, quiet and lonely, but Wanda's physical form appears to sit at the table with you.

"Hi, Y/N." It's almost painful actually. The distance and indifference have grown to the point that greeting you in the morning is almost like talking to a stranger.

Your back tenses before you glance at her from the corner of your eye and murmur a good morning, your attention returning to the preparation of the coffee.

"You woke up late." Your hand hesitates in cracking the eggs, but only for half a second. Wanda sighs. "I thought you weren't going to do that anymore." 

You place the eggs on the tray, and move to find the flour. Your back is to Wanda. "I don't know what you're talking about." You mumble disinterestedly. 

She laughs, humorless. "Come on, you were the one giving speeches about how wrong and dangerous that was, and now you're doing it almost every night." 

You set the bowl down on the table with a little more force than necessary. "What is it now, Wanda?" You demand, irritated but more importantly, upset. Days goes by with Wanda not paying a single glance at you, and now she’s demanding answers. "Just say what you mean." 

She rolls her eyes, and you swallow hard. She can be so… mean. Like Wanda never was. But then again, ever since Westview, and especially since the Darkhold, you've been discovering sides of her that you've never seen. You tried to stay positive about it, because well, relationships are hard. But it was all extremely tiring.

"I just think it's a little funny, when I asked to talk to my boys, you said it was wrong. That I was abusing your power, that it was dangerous to mess with these things, that speech about natural law and the veil of the dead, or whatever nonsense you made up."

"I didn't make it up-"

She interrupts you: "But when it's about you visiting Natasha every night, then it's okay?"

You laugh humorlessly. "Because it's me! Because I hold the connection, because it's my power! I've explained to you this a hundred times, but you don't want to accept it." She huffs, standing up, ready to leave the room, the conversation, and that makes you laugh again. "Go ahead, just run away again." 

She looks at you with irritation: "Me? You're the one who's running away, Y/N! Every night to visit our dead friend!" 

You have to laugh because honestly this has to be a joke. Wanda swallows hard at the sound. "Wanda, you're not even here." You gesture to the other room where her astral projection is reading the darkhold, and she turns her face away, almost embarrassed. You run a hand over yours, sighing. Exhausted. "This is all bullshit. I don't even know what I'm doing here."

You explode. "She talks to me!" And this takes Wanda by surprise, she looks at you with a frown, and you hold back the tears that threaten to fall. "A change of scenery for a change. "

"I talk to you." 

She looks at you as if you've been slapped, in a way, you're almost happy to have some reaction.

"You said you didn't want to leave me alone."

You frown, and hold her gaze, even though you can't hold back the tears anymore. "And in return, you barely look at me."

"Y/N, that's not true. We were ready to have breakfast-" She tries to get closer, to touch you, but you pull away, laughing humorlessly, gesturing nervously to the kitchen.

"Breakfast? Wanda, none of this is real!" You scoff, gesturing around. "This farm, the food, even the fucking animals, you created everything with your magic. All of this is a lie."

"Don't say that."

But you get closer, breathless with emotion, your hands find her face, and Wanda resists the urge to lean into the touch, her gaze conflicted as if she were also resisting something else, something stronger and deeper.

"I'm real, Wanda. And I'm right here. Begging you to let me in." You confess, and some of her certainty breaks. "But you push me away. And ignore me for days, limiting me to a ghost of you." 

She touches your forearms. "I know you don't like it, but astral projection allows me to study without leaving you alone and-" She tries, but you shake your head, cutting her off. 

"Enough, I don't want to hear the same excuses all over again." You walk away, a sad smile on your face. "I think I should just go."

Wanda tries to contain her emotion, but she's crying the next minute. "If that's what you want, I won't stop you." 

You laugh sadly. "What I want. Funny." You retort, walking around her to pack, and Wanda swallows hard. It takes a moment, but she finally follows you to the room, where you search for the few belongings you brought, which weren't fabrications of chaos magic. She doesn't even realize she's forced back her astral projection until she sees the darhold floating alone, almost begging to be read again.

"So that 's it? Are you really just going to leave me alone?" 

You don't look at her. "Clearly that's what you want, Wanda. Enjoy your reading." 

But she stands in front of the door, blocking your way. You sigh impatiently, but she holds her position. "And what do you want?" 

You hesitate, and Wanda tilts her head, her eyes turning red. You snort in protest at the attempt of mind reading. "Unbelievable." You mumble in disappointment, but there's a bump when you try to cross because Wanda won't step aside. "Come on, you said you wouldn't stop me." 

"Why did you come with me in the first place?" She demands to know then, her gaze almost pleading, and that makes you hesitate, take a step back. 

"Wanda." 

"Tell me." She says, and you swallow hard, looking away at the floor. She laughs humorlessly. "Fine, and then you say I don't talk to you." 

She steps aside, turning her back to you to walk down the hallway again, and you sigh, thinking fuck it. Things can't get any worse than they are now. 

"I'm in love with you."

It's the first time you've said it out loud, admitted it to yourself, actually. Wanda frowns at you, and then laughs briefly and incredulously.

"Right." She mumbles, and you take a step toward her.

"I'm serious."

Wanda doesn't flinch. "Well, I don't believe you."

It's your turn to frown, confused and a little embarrassed, as you watch Wanda sigh and walk over to the couch, where she sits. You sigh too before entering the living room again, the bag of clothes loosely in your hand. "What are you talking about? What do you mean you don't believe? This is just a fact, not something to argue about."

But the redhead shakes her head. "That's ridiculous, Y/N. You're not in love with me." You open your mouth to protest, but she keeps talking. "First of all, you never said anything. You didn't even think." She looks at you with a certain certainty that makes you swallow hard. That nosy witch and that bad habit of looking into people's minds. "Second, you're.. off limits. You're Nat' s. You always have been and always will. I mean you visit her even after death now." 

You grimace, and then you finally understand what Wanda is really saying. "Wanda, I," You begin, dropping your backpack on one of the armchairs and approaching where she is, kneeling down to her level. "Natasha and I broke up during the blip. I told you that. We became friends, just friends, over time. I’ve been visiting her because I was feeling lonely, and I missed having a friend to talk to." Wanda looks away, and you try to follow her gaze, your hand reaching for hers in your lap. "And yes, about the first thing, you're right. I'd never thought about it. It took me a while to understand, to realize. I guess I was trying to protect myself." 

She looks at you with some uncertainty. "From me?" 

You laugh shortly, shaking your head immediately. "Oh, no, Wanda, not from you." You clarify quickly. "I was afraid of getting my heart broken, you know? You had someone. And well, Natasha was my first love. And it was mutual. I didn't know how to deal with rejection, with the possibility of well, of living through this right now. It's been hard, but I'll survive." 

But Wanda swallows hard, her cheeks gaining a new color. "But I... didn't reject you."

You laugh awkwardly. "It's okay, I don't need you to let me down slowly, the shock and silence are enough for me to get the message." You joke, but when you make a move to stand up, Wanda tightens her grip on your hand, keeping you in place.

"You just caught me by surprise." She murmurs and it's the only thing she says before advancing on you, a firm kiss on your lips. She barely lets you get used to the feeling - pulling away immediately, her brow furrowed in conflict. "Fuck, don't show me that."

"I didn't do anything-"

"It's not you!" She snaps, her eyes red. Wanda suddenly becomes agitated, standing up, her hands on her head for a moment. You worry, and when you try to touch her, she suddenly grabs you, her arms around you, her face hidden in your chest. She takes a deep breath, as if trying to wake herself up to this moment. "Please, don't leave me alone with it."

You understand, the book, which continues to vibrate in the next room, waiting, demanding a reader.

One of your hands goes to Wanda's head, and the other to her back, trying to calm her down.

"I'll stay with you, Wands." You say, swallowing hard afterwards. "But on one condition." She breaks the hug only to look at you. You sigh. "We'll ask for help."

"What? No-"

"I'm serious." You interrupt. "If not Agatha Harkness, it will be someone from Kamar Taj, like Doctor Strange. You need help, Wanda. You don't sleep, you barely eat. You're paranoid and restless. You're hurting yourself, and I'm not going to stand by and watch."

Wanda sighs tiredly, and buries her face in your chest again, nodding softly. Though the next moment, she mumbles, “Strange won’t help. Sorcerers don’t… help witches.”

You kiss the top of her head. “Agatha Harkness then.”

The redhead groans in protest. "I don't trust her." But you hug her a little tighter.

"I know, darling, me either." You whisper. "But who knows what Westview has in store for us?"

Wanda hides her warm face deeper inside the hug. "I like it when you call me that."

It's your turn to blush. "Lucky for you, I have an endless list of pet names for you, Miss Magic Fingers." She giggles, trying to tickle you so you'll let her go, but the break only makes you laugh and shower her face with kisses.

[echodoctor]

I've noticed a few people take "the Universe leads and we follow" to mean that the Northern Island's spiritual traditions were a more authoritarian kind of faith, similar to something like Catholicism- God hands down decrees and mortals must obey them.

And while that is one way you could interpret that, it's very much not the way I read it when I saw that line.

I do want to preface this by saying I am some extremely white dumbass who knows shit about this secondhand only so please take what I am about to say with not so much as grain as an entire Lot's wife worth of salt, but:

I think the followers of the Universe might have something closer to Taoism going on.

Again, this is something I'm very vague on, but I remember reading that the ideal in Taoism is essentially to be in utter harmony with the natural rhythms of the world around you, effortlessly moving with them instead of desperately struggling against the flow. The world has natural processes: night follows day, decay follows death, the tides come in and out, etc. Understand and accept those processes, and you can float through seemingly effortlessly, because the natural movements of the world are at your back and carrying you forward, instead of something you struggle against.

There's a dynamic that shows up in a lot of classical Chinese stuff between Confucianism (very concerned with things being right and correct and proper) and Taoism, where the Confucian is angrily trying to make everything Work The Way It Should and the Taoist is affectionately teasing the Confucian for getting so worked up, and is having a much easier time because they've accepted the way things already are.

Like, the Confucian walks through a lovely peach grove and keeps getting mad because the trees are shedding leaves all over the path and no one bothered to rake them off, you're supposed to be keeping these paths clear, doesn't anyone do anything around here! The Taoist just has a nice walk and enjoys the peaches, maybe catches a nice ripe tasty fruit right before it falls on the Confucian's head.

I don't think it would be a one-to-one thing, but my personal guess is that the followers of the Universe believed in something similar.

The Universe leads you, in the same way that an ocean current sweeping you out to sea is leading you. That's just the way it is, and you can either struggle against it until you tire yourself out and drown, or you can recognize what's happening and learn how to ride the current to your destination.

This could have both positive aspects (compassion and acceptance towards others, living in peace with the world instead of changing it by violence) and negative ones (sometimes the world really does need to be changed, and you don't just have to accept things that make you miserable instead of working to fix them).

We can see a lot of that negative side in both the King and Siffrin. The King urges the party to be frozen at their happiest moment, because he can't wrap his head around the idea that you could make things even better instead of just being given something and praying you don't lose it. Siffrin falls into the natural rhythm of the script, and doesn't try to fight against what feels the most correct because this is how things are, why would he believe that's something he has the power to change?

(One big difference here is that Taoism also believes that change is one of the fundamental forces, that the world is constantly changing, whereas I think the Followers of the Universe would probably be a kind of narrative foil for the House of Change in canon, just for story purposes.)

(Sometimes things need to change, and sometimes you need to accept them. A healthier outlook probably finds a good balance of both.)

When the Change God tells Siffrin that his god "will never really talk to you", I wonder if a follower of the Universe who remembered more about their beliefs could have argued back that their god never stops speaking?

Through the flight of birds, the movement of clouds, the beating of your own heart- the Universe is speaking all the time. To live is to be in constant conversation with it.

It's fun and all the think the universe is being mean to Loop and Siffrin but tbh I like to think the universe is more apathetic than actively malicious. Real "a universe that doesn't care but people do" type of deal.

The universe is hard to grasp or even personify. According to the change god the universe can't even talk to its followers. It's so massive and incomprehensible it just can't.

Like... imagine you had to do something for one of the like octillion atoms that make up your body. You don't know this thing, you don't know it's situation, not really. It's kinda hard to pay attention when you're busy being... well perpetual existence. But it becomes just loud enough to hear. Hurts just enough to feel. But instead of squashing this thing like a bug you give it a crumb and simply move on.

But that also makes the whole "The universe leads and we must follow" philosophy very hilarious. Like the universe does NOT know what the little specks on this single planet are doing just like we don't notice how our cells move around in our body.

The universe isn't leading shit. It's giving you the tools to do it yourself. It's like when you ask your mom to drive you somewhere and she just hands you the keys and says don't wreck the car, except this "mom" doesn't comprehend that its kids aren't even old enough to drive (aka can't handle godly powers like timecraft)

[kaibutsushidousha]

Opinions on The Hundred Line story and characters?

Ok, now the prologue is finally finished and I can write the 0 endings version of this post. Hopefully the 100 endings versions will follow along in less than 5 years.

I'll first leave the tl;dr version of the post outside the cut, then get into more detail about each student below. Check also my livetweet thread more pinpoint thoughts on specific scenes, language version comparisons, and way too much thought put through put into Omokage's silly dialogue.

Not much to say yet about the general arrangement. The prologue goes by with a decent amount of lore reveals, the revelation that our perspective on the war is still very wrong, and no clear indication of which plot points matter and which are misdirection. The only character we had a chance to talk to someone in the school invader side is the commander-in-chief, who openly follows a different cause from her fellow commanders. Now that Takumi learned Invaderese the Kirby way, I would expect a route where he hangs out with the commanders, but I feel like if something like that existed, I would have already heard about it. Let's get to the students at Last Defense Academy, then.

Takumi Sumino is definitely one of the Kodaka protagonists that exist. He has a decently defined identity as the dude who got himself engaged to a heavily dependent girl at around age six and then nothing ever happened in his life. He's generally harmless, at least without me having the opportunity to make evil choices for him, and can easily be cool when he needs to. But one major thing I still don't get is the Watsonian reason for him to have Special Review. Class Weapons and Specialist Skills are embodiments of their personalities, so I'd expect the power of redo to belong to someone more introspective and regretful.

Takemaru Yakushiji was, at all times, 100% exactly what he looked like. The 80s shounen delinquent archetype played to letter, even more so than Oowada. It's maybe exaggerated a little with him having multiple volunteer jobs caring for the elders and whatnot. It gets to the point that he genuinely feels like he's not punk enough to fit his aesthetics. He's a central positive figure to his wider community both in the TRC and the LDA (see how he's the most valuable source of support in every persuasion arc), and understands strict laws as something meaningful and necessary (see how more often than not he finds himself agreeing with Shizuhara's points despite repudiating her methods to get at it). Even the violence he warns about first thing talk to him is something he proves to be perfectly contained about. The only punk thing about him is being an underage biker, really.

Hiruko Shizuhara is not there for long. But perhaps her short presence is exactly what allows her to be such a transcendently good source of friction while she's around. Regardless, she's gone precisely when she's about to open up, so I can't say I have an opinion. I unfortunately don't have her backstory novel, but I feel like this would have been the ideal time to read it if I did. I have to say it's pretty funny how DR's and THL's underage biker characters feel so similar to each other while the discipline monitor characters feel so incredibly different. The only thing Ishimaru and Hiruko have in common is being paired primarily with the biker thug.

Darumi Amemiya is what if Rain Code's Shinigami was actually funny. The answer, unfortunately, was that good jokes don't solve the problem. While Darumi does drop occasional hints to a serious backstory with a lot of potential, her default contribution to the story is undercutting good moments with out-of-place gags, and failing to at least generate friction from her incompatibility with the group because no one ever gives her attention. If anything, it's sometimes extra frustrating that her jokes are good and her only problem is that she's telling them at the wrong time. Unfortunately, this intrusiveness is something I don't believe will ever go away, so she has to go into the disappointment tier. I have no idea how good her serious content will need to be to offset this. One major positive I have to bring up is that I love how she never gets over simulation complex. Instead of learning to believe what's happening is real, her progression is about initially guessing the wrong genre for the game she's in, and over time developing a very precise understanding of what The Hundred Line's game design looks like from the player's perspective. 10/10 bit in a vacuum, I wish didn't have consequences for the tone of the scenes she's in.

Eito Aotsuki starts off as the cynical and analytical classmate, 180s into the cheesiest boy to ever cheese within the first week, and then spends the rest of the run just there making innocuous comments and moving things along to the (in)convenience of the plot and most of all to the convenience of the gameplay. No one makes AP like my guy here. But despite being the strongest guy in the team, I have to admit that I didn't catch on to Aotsuki's deal as early as I should mainly because I almost never remembered he was part of the cast when trying to theorize about the bigger picture. It took until he tried to organize a second party with Gaku me to start seeing the sabotage. Anyway, the climax of the prologue involves him revealing his true colors, which look half Oberon Vortigern and half Sesshouin Kiara. And it works surprisingly well. I almost can't believe how much I felt like Aotsuki's characterization worked well for him, considering Kiara is a character that took forever to grow on me and Oberon is one I still actively dislike. I guess he just double-confirms that Oberon could have been a really cool character if he existed outside the very specific contexts of Avalon le Fae.

Tsubasa Kawana is, exactly as I feared, too normal. Her persuasion event is cute enough but definitely the weakest of the four. She does have her hobby as a mechanic that makes her useful and on rare occasions funny, but I don't count usefulness as a thing that makes characters better or worse. The best thing I can say about her is that the way her passion for mechanics extends into her being the sci-fi fan that contributes with meaningful insights to the conversations about parallel worlds feels really natural and clever.

Gaku Maruko is unforeseen goat of The Hundred Line. He descends from a joke character archetype Kodaka already worked with multiple times, so I came in with pretty specific expectations about the kind of humor he was there to deliver, and I can say I got exactly what I thought I would in that regard, but I was completely blindsided by the emotional depth he'd get at the first possible opportunity. Maruko's persuasion is bar none the most hard-hitting moment of the first 100 days. Maruko is extremely self-aware that he's the guy who can't ever catch a break, to the point he even perceives his 20 little brothers as parasites holding him back from his wants. He's viscerally furious at society, his family included, for the way his life is. To survive his difficult world, Maruko is making conscious efforts to be self-serving and self-sufficient. He wants to live for himself because it's genuinely unfair that luck gives him nothing. But he can't. He never could. Takumi persuades him by saying nothing because Maruko's problems are entirely self-solving. Being Gaku Maruko sucks, therefore being Gaku Maruko is the last thing he'd ever wish on anyone else. He works 17 jobs to feed 20 "leeches" at his group home because the alternative would be allowing them to be as deprived as he is. He risks his life fighting Invaders because the alternative is risking their lives. He solo organizes all parties in this group home and the Last Defense Academy so no one else will be too busy to enjoy themselves. He will willing grab the short end of the stick so no one else will have to suffer his rotten luck. As much he tries to be selfish, Maruko's empathy ultimately shines brighter when it counts. He's doomed to be a caretaker most of all by his own personality. I love especially how it's not even like his greed is a mask crafted to survive as a misfortunate empath. He genuinely hates his life and genuinely wants to own good things and fulfill base desires. This is the open contradiction that makes him an excellent character. I feel like this is where Kodaka finally found the solution to make his dubious coward joke characters work. Gaku won my heart as soon as he could, and did it in a way where I can't see myself ever getting annoyed at his humor, because the worst of him works in benefit of the best of him.

Ima Tsukumo is, against all odds, funny. His creep factor takes the backseat most of the time. Instead, Ima's default state is just your regular zoomer troll you can find in any rancid YouTube comments section. Even his siscon shtick is pretty tolerable thanks to how pragmatic it feels. I can't tell if that's the intention, but it works well as an insincere tactic to keep people away. Ima is defined mainly by his lack of vulnerabilities. He's distant, cautious, disrespectful, crafty, vicious, and most of all, unshakable. He presents himself as Kako's invincible protector and never relaxes that aspect even after his change of heart. With 100 routes in the game, there must be a route where Ima breaks, but within the prologue, his defenses are so flawless I can't even imagine what that would look like. With all this praise, you might be wondering what is Ima doing at the bottom of the disappointment tier. Well, the answer is as simple as "recruiting him is too easy". The prologue spends like 50 days building Ima up as the greatest challenge to the team's unity, but when it's finally time to get him, he practically goes down without a fight. Maybe there is a route out there where Ima gets to live up to his potential as a contrarian with issues the player needs to work to solve, but Persuasions would be repeat content, so I'd expect the future routes to skip or streamline that side. Maybe. I still haven't checked how this works, but as of now I don't expect Ima to ever deliver what he was selling.

Kako Tsukumo is decent, I guess. Second best persuasion sequence despite its consequences to Ima's character. Ending one of them with a "No, shut up" is just a neat idea. Her precognition and her struggles as an amateur detective who doesn't know what she's doing are good bits. She shares one of the biggest things I give praise for Yumeno in V3, which is how her change isn't easy. She's often seen relapsing to the previous terms of her relationship with Ima at moments of setback, especially in the two (three?) periods where he's dead. Unfortunately, her biggests emotional moments, namely her going apeshit because of the other twin, don't hit for much because they build up on Ima's wet noodle of a resolution. Too much reward for an anti-climax.

Shouma Ginzaki is about as easy to ignore as he claims to be, even if he never gets outright forgotten like pre-reveal Aotsuki often was. His persuasion was cute with the "it's okay to fail" message, the Kurara duel plotline was not bad, and the commitment to his allergy to conflict makes his gameplay interesting, but overall he showed nothing I'd call impressive. I feel like the peak of his potential was when the class took a POW and he started becoming the Human Pet Guy, but that's a plotline to pay off in a different route.

Nozomi Kirifuji is surprisingly functional for the designated mystery character whose mystery doesn't even get properly answered. She has a compelling sense of purpose, fleshed out reasons to be like that, an effective performance in her role as her team's guiding heart, and genuine chemistry both with Takumi and with her Second-to-Last Defense Academy friends. The worst thing that could happen to her is her conflation with Karua being her primary focus, but she gets to be her own person in multiple significant ways.

Kurara Oosuzuki is perhaps the most well-balanced character of the cast, if I had to pick one. She's incredibly funny, acts as an effective leader when needed, plays off well with pretty much the entire cast, gets a solid amount of depth in the initial scenario, and pulls off some decent drama through her relationship with Nozomi. Some of her gags definitely cross the line, but she doesn't feel less sympathetic for it since it's established that the tomato demon is a domineering persona the human Kurara intentionally engineered to be able to survive her upbringing. She's made to be offensive because that's what human Kurara believes a noblewoman had to be like. That said, human Kurara is annoying and would be at the bottom of the tier list if the site had the two separately. I'm treating her as a side character that exists solely to flesh out tomato demon Kurara, the one I actually like.

Kyoshika Magadori is the funniest character ever. She has all of Chabashira's positive energy and silliness packed into samurai pastiche, a seemingly genuine belief that shounen manga are documentaries, a little bit of an ego that makes her refuse to admit she doesn't know something, and a katana wife with a personality we have to piece together from scattered statements. All excellent bits that often come together really well. The only reason why she isn't placed second is because she didn't any good serious scene yet. All of her serious content so far has been her being extremely not immune to propaganda about the vile and barbaric enemy and shutting down attempts at nuance on the cast's interpretations of the invaders.

Yugami Omokage is exactly the fascinating specimen I hoped he'd be. A capital f Freak, but a good and reliable friend who is helpful to the team's cause, a smart thinker who pays attention to the plot and contributes with solid ideas, and his interplay of love and murder feels incredibly unique. The concept of mutual consent reinterpreted as "I only wish to kill someone who wants to be killed by me just as much" could genuinely be uncharted territory. I called Kurara the most balanced character, but Yugami doesn't stand too far. Having seen nothing about it, I already feel confident his romance route will be the best.

Moko Mojirou is not around for long, and during her little time on screen, the impostor is sus. She is presented as the heart of the Second-to-Last Defense Academy but that never clicked with me. It doesn't help that most of my time with her was spent going "Is this is a wrestling reference?" then googling it and half of the time finding out that yes, this is a wrestling reference, and the other half finding out that no, it's instead a martial arts manga reference. Her stories being lifted from manga has interesting implications, though. It's a narrative trick Kodaka pulled multiple times before to signify that either the speaker was lying about their accomplishments, or in V3's case that the world they've been living was a lie. If the real Moko also steal credits from manga plots, this could go to interesting places.

[quinloki]

Kink Headcanon request: Spanking, Roleplay, and CNC for Rayleigh, Beckman, and Marco please

>.>

okay but Marco sandwiched between--

AHEM.

This is a great collection of blorbos and kinks, and before my mind goes down a rabbit hole, I should probably work toward focusing on the actual kinks XD

Benn Beckman:

CNC - Yes- Free Use might rank a little higher for him, but not by much honestly. He enjoys the consent. I mean, well, you know what I mean, but specifically he likes having you ask for it. He likes asking, or telling you that he's going to do something and have you agree.

He could probably get it with CNC or Free Use, making you agree even though you don't have a say, but that's not really what he's after. Even if you do say no, he's not going to take the first no as gospel. He won't do anything until he gets that yes, but he's not negatively coercive about it.

He'll just plead his case, explain in detail exactly what he means to do, and how you'll react, and well, I mean, maybe the CNC has its uses if you're nervous.

Roleplay - Yes - He's not against it, but for the most part I feel like time can be of the essence for this man. He's got ample enough down time to take care of you, but you never know when there's going to be a battle. When his captain's going to come calling for him, or when one of the crew is going to knock on the door.

He's more than happy to play at interrogation, or let you pretend to be a maid and serve him, but what he really wants is to buried deep inside you, telling you how good you are, how good you feel, how much you've begged him for this.

Spanking - Yes - He does love the way it makes you squirm. the sharp gasp of surprise, the sweet mewl of pleasure, the way you wiggle when it starts to sting, the way you cling to him when he squeezes your red cheeks with his hands.

He certainly has nothing against it, that much is clear. He'll pepper it in between other things, but unless he's using it as a kind of punishment, it's not something he does often.

>.> Ask him to spank you though, and watch that tanking tick up a notch or two.

Marco:

CNC - FUCK Yes - There's a good bit of overlap between Free Use and Consensual Non Consent, but there's definitely a difference in vibes. At least from my perspective, and I think from Marco's too.

Enough that Free Use is a rank higher than CNC, though if you start taking different Marcos into consideration it would waffle a bit XD but Free Use sounds like something you volunteer for, and CNC is something you're volunteered for. (I'm sure others see it in the other directions because things that overlap this much can have very personally variable nuances.)

But I'll say - Good Marco isn't too different between Free Use and CNC, though he might be a little meaner with CNC, reminding you that you conceded your right to consent.

BAD Marco, however, might be all smooth and gentle with a Free Use agreement, "reluctantly" listening when you ask him not to. But with CNC he's going to have you so tied up you won't be able to ask him anything.

Roleplay - FUCK Yes - Ranked a little lower when it came to Teacher/Doctor specifically, but I do think Marco likes the idea of roleplay overall. He might get hung up on some of the details, but he's more than happy to indulge in it.

He does need some time to really get into it. The first time you can see that usual confidence slip a little. Maybe he's the big bad pirate, and you're the poor, helpless marine recruit. Maybe after a few tries he's the corrupt Marine Captain, and you're the poor helpless little villager. This time there's outfits, and he's wearing the cape he took off a captain or admiral.

Role Playing certainly awakens Marco to how fun it is to bully you.

Spanking - FUCK Yes - I think he's fairly neutral about it until he lands a good slap on your ass and you make a sound you did not mean to make. You both expected a squeak of surprise, and instead it was one of those kinds of moans that rolls around in your bones and makes your back arch involuntarily.

Next thing you know he has you over his knee, legs locked with his, one hand at the back of your neck holding you in place and the rubbing your ass cheeks while he's telling you that he needs to see exactly how much you enjoy this.

For science. Nah, he's not going to lie, he's doing this until he knows how to bring you pleasure or pain exactly as he wants. Maybe you'll cum from it if he gets good enough.

Silvers Rayleigh:

CNC - Yes - Rayleigh is the kind to check in once and probably not worry about it after that. Between his experience and his skills, he can pretty much guide you to where he wants you. That makes something like CNC or Free Use not all that different from how he operates.

But if you talk to him about doing either beyond just a session, he's happy to oblige. The way he'll rut against you from behind, holding you in place with one hand, kissing your neck with his lips, and fingering you with his other hand. Bringing you to orgasm while you've got dishes in your hands from the chores you were in the middle of, and once you're satisfied he'll go back to what he was doing before.

If he desires more, he'll take more, and probably take over doing the dishes if he's railed the life out of you. He's a good guy like that XD

Roleplay - Oh god you don't even know - He's probably pretended to be all manner of things that weren't pirates, spending years by Roger's side. He probably had a good number of jobs before he even met Roger, and more after he retired. And the jobs he hasn't worked I imagine he knows a lot about.

He'll be a marine, a teacher, doctor, captain, etc. etc. He's more than happy to oblige. You won't get him to break character either. The one time he played a priest, you ended up spending the entire day completely nude in penance for your naughty thoughts. Sitting on his face while you tried to get through prayers without cumming certainly off set him making you pull weeds in the garden for an hour, swatting your ass when he felt like it.

Spanking - Yes - Oh he is good at it, don't doubt that, but it's just a little lower on the list for him over other things. He'll pepper a swat in here and there as he does other things. A sharp slap on your ass to get you to focus, a precise smack of your pretty pussy to push you over the edge despite your babbling that you can't possibly cum anymore.

He may, on occasion, bend you over his knee and give you a full and proper spanking, but he's more likely to spend more time fingering you while you're in that position. Forcing you to squirt while you're bent over, or prepping your ass for the next round.

If you ask him nicely, however, and you've been good for him, he'll spank you until you're crying for him to stop.

How May I Kink Your Head Canon?

[medicinemane]

From my own experience trying to be supportive of someone in a situation like that, one of the best things to do is basically the opposite of gaslighting. Tell them you trust them, that you think they're making a lot of sense, reinforce that you actually do think they know what they're doing and that they deserve respect

Don't directly complain about the abuser other than phrasing it along the lines of "I don't know... I just don't think that behavior you're describing is exactly ok, that's not how I'd want to treat people", but keep it very loose

When they brought up feelings like being gaslit I didn't say, "yeah, you 100% are", I said "why don't we look into it together?" and then found them information on things like DARVO phrasing it more like "huh, this seems like it's kind of interesting" and not "this is exactly how that scumbag treats you"

I was also lucky enough to be able to connect them to someone I know on here that has a good relationship kinda phrasing it like "this person's married and seems to know stuff about relationships, why don't you talk to them about some of the stuff you're feeling?", and then that person was kind enough to have their friend group take in the person I was trying to help

In a lot of ways I think that was one of the most important things was getting them into a supportive group of people, not letting them be isolated like their abuser wanted so they had a lot of people gently pushing back against what was happening

I'm very glad to say they got away from that person, they're a lot happier now and seem in a lot healthier company. So I have some experience with this which more or less agrees with everything above

Don't push, don't tell them what's going on, ask leading questions that will let them say what's happening (very very causally, again like saying "why don't we look up gaslighting together?"). Try to get them connected to anything that will make them less isolated

Most of all though just make it clear that actually you think they make a lot of sense. Someone's trying to tear them down, you need to be working just as hard to build them up

Validate feelings, tell them how you see why they're upset, things like that

Finally... much as you just want to solve it, this isn't instant. It took months, maybe even close to a year after they first said stuff that made me realize how bad it was and since I started trying to get them out of that before they finally ended it

At no point did I say "I think you should break up", at no point did I try and put any timelimit or things or rush stuff. I was just in their corner for as long as it took

In the end, that's all you can really do. Be in their corner, make sure they know you're being them 100%

It sucks, but everything else has to be on their time

Aro culture is seeing the signs that your friend is in a toxic relationship but they refuse to acknowledge it when you tell them and say "we're in love, you wouldn't get it"

hey, something I've noticed is that people... don't know how to bring up signs of toxicity. and the thing is, the major "do not" is to directly call the relationship abusive/toxic, or the other(s) in it such, which is also the thing almost everyone I talk to says they did in your position.

quoting from a New York state gov site about domestic violence:

Here are some examples of how you can Start the Conversation: - “I noticed that sometimes [insert partner’s name] does this [insert concerning tactic that you’ve seen]. Does that happen a lot? How does that make you feel?” - “I’m concerned about your safety. Is it okay if we talk about it?” - “I’m so glad you told me about [insert disclosure of abuse]. How can I help or support you? What do you need?” - “I noticed lately that you’ve been [insert survivor’s behavior like “getting hurt a lot lately” or “not going out as much”]. Is everything okay? If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you.” - “I know this can be really hard to talk about. I promise I believe you and won’t judge any of your choices or experiences. I care about you and just want you to be safe.” - “I recently read/watched/heard [insert book, article, movie, podcast about domestic violence]. Have you read/seen/heard it? What do you think?”

These are all adaptable to toxic relationships, high control groups like cults, and generally, someone experiencing distress. For example,

"I've noticed that sometimes [person/group/work] does [concerning tactic, addressed as factually as possible. ie, talking over you, making jokes you don't seem to enjoy, grabbing you, etc, NOT 'being a bitch']. Does that happen a lot? How do you feel about it?

Then, DO NOT say how you feel about it without letting them speak! Don't launch into "I saw them do it 8 times today, and I think you're ignoring it because you think you love them, and that's bad!" Let them tell you what they notice, do not blame them for staying, and do not call the situation bad until they do!

If they say, "oh, I don't think it's that bad/that frequent.", you don't have to agree, but you could say, "I thought it happened a few times today, but if you aren't worried, I'll try not to push. Just know you can always talk to me if it does change."

If you DO push too far, and that happens, be careful. The main problems from that are 1) they feel like you're judging them, so they stop engaging with you. 2) they tell the abusive group, who WILL try to stop them from contact with you, 3) this actually pushes them FURTHER into the toxic situation, because now someone who cares is inaccessible. Dial it back.

"I'm sorry I came across so strong. I shouldn't have been so accusatory, I was worried and got carried away. You can always talk to me if things change, but I shouldn't have gone about it like that even if it were that bad."

Good luck.

[epickiya722]

After eight hours, I gave up...

[moinsbienquekaworu]

I just spent like 20 minutes thinking about soup

[murasakilady]

Oh, boy, I hope I can do this right…

🐵 - Probably my first attempt at a novel that ended up being a Shining fanfic. No, seriously, I copied half of the story and the rest was taken from horror movies that I liked at that time. And, of course, I couldn't think of anything better than writing about a teenage girl having sex. It goes without saying that this will never see the light of day.

🐶 - My closest friend. Since I was twelve she has known that I like to make up stories.

🐺 - Maybe villains… I'm not really sure. I don't like making heroes perfect; I always add a bit of evil to their actions.

🦊 - You see, in Spanish we have all these spelling rules that go beyond writing a word correctly. You have to add accents: Razón, tentación, etc. After spending months writing, a friend wrote down all the accents I'd missed. Nothing about the story. Now I check what I write up to three times since then. I think that forgetting to hit a key at a certain time is not going to help you create a better story and although grammar is important, it is not the center of everything.

🦝 - It depends, with some I can see a good relationship. The others would get punched in the face.

🐱 - Aside from the accents, make the story clearer. It seems clear enough to me and I don't write for children. Try the brain.

🦁 - I'm not even officially a writer, I don't think I'm better than anyone.

🐴 - ¿Por qué no los dos?

🐷 - Well I like horror stories and I could make a list. In one of my first short stories, the villain attacks the protagonists with an arm he just ripped off a corpse. In another, the protagonist's chest is opened and her blood serves to fill a blank canvas, which the villain uses to draw the scene.

🦄 - Depends on context. If strong magic means being able to destroy the world by snapping your fingers, that might seem a bit exaggerated to me. I guess I prefer softer, more focused on what is possible.

🐭 - I'm an orphan, but my parents knew I loved writing, and my mother even read one of my short stories before she passed away.

🦔 - I have tried, although I prefer to create my characters and my world, I have touched other artists' works. Not AO3 type, more like an update of classic works.

🐥 - Well, the first novel that I mentioned before was when I was 14, although I was already writing nonsense before… About 12 or 13 years old? I think I started taking it seriously around 18, although I have never finished anything I started. Up to now.

🐸 - When I can. I live alone, and although I'm currently unemployed, I have places to go. I also need peace of mind, which is sometimes difficult to get where I live.

🦀 - Do I like torturing beings that don't exist? My characters may go through tough situations, but it is part of the story not for my pleasure.

🐞 - Not really. I always write in the same format, with the same font and the same size for the titles. That's more my obsessive nature than anything else.

🪱 - Put the accents. Nah, just kidding. Possibly something I remember Stephen King saying about writing at least one page a day. Not everyone can do it, either because of work or other situations. Basically, don't leave something too long or you'll notice that you've lost track, no matter how many outlines or notes you've created.

🐌 - Again, it depends. If you have a clear story, it shouldn't be too difficult; if not, everything can be made longer. Plus rewriting parts you don't like… A lot of things can either speed up the process or slow it down.

🐠 - Yes, that way I can make the list shorter. It depends on the character. I have been sad to see some of them disappear.

🐬 - Only create stories. Perhaps try to say something at the same time.

WRITER - ASK GAME - ANIMAL

🐵 - What's the weirdest thing you've written and why did you write it?

🐶 - Who knows the most about your writing/stories?

🐺 - Do you prefer crrating heroic characters or villainous characters?

🦊 - What is your dumbest piece of writing advice?

🦝 - Would you get along with your fave original character if there were real?

🐱 - Which piece of writing advice do you always ignore?

🦁 - Are you a better writer than most?

🐴 - Fantasy or Sci-Fi?

🐷 - What's the grossest scene you've ever written?

🦄 - Soft magic or hard magic systems?

🐭 - Does your family know much about your writing?

🦔 - Do you write fanfiction?

🐥 - When did you start writing?

🐸 - What time of day do you write?

🦀 - Do you enjoy torturing your ocs?

🐞 - Do you have any writing lucky charms or superstitions?

🪱 - What is your dumbest piece of writing advice that actually works?

🐌 - Slow or quick writer?

🐠 - Do you enjoy killing characters?

🐬 - What is your goal?

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ it's sticky, toshi... ❞

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : you help ushijima finally realize that he's got a breeding kink

ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...cw : u. wakatoshi x fem!reader, dirty talk, messy and wet, teasing, marathon sex, pet names, breeding kink, talks of pregnancy, ushijima can't stop cumming

ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...lunar's note : haikyuu save me, save me ushijima wakatoshi, SAVE ME !! anyways hi i spent 150$ on ushijima merch yesterday and i don't regret it, so say hello to my haikyuu phase coming back !!!

ushijima having a breeding kink isn't a surprise to you at all.

what is surprising is how long it takes for him to figure it out.

sure, at first it wasn't clear, but after being with him for so long, you quickly pick up on whenever he'd mutter in your ear as he slid his stupidly big cock inside of you, saying how badly he wished he could cum inside of you instead in the condom.

afterwards, he's so focused on cleaning you up and making sure you felt good and satisfied, you don't get a chance to question him on it. not that you were complaining, ushijima is so cute when he's asking if you need anything and constantly reminds you to get up and go use the bathroom.

it's even cuter when he realizes you can't walk.

"ah. i'm sorry, i didn't realize how hard i went...here, let me help."

eventually, you to suggest things to ushijima, trying to test out the waters with him.

you start by just asking if he’d want to fuck you without the condom, what he thought about cumming inside, even jokingly saying you’d make him a dad one day.

but it seems like that last part was swimming around his head for a while...he can't get the thought of you getting chubby and round with his kid out of your head. and knowing he'd be able to take care of you all the time? that thought alone made him shiver a little.

what can he say, he loves doting on you more than anything.

however, you aren't expecting the way he reacted weeks after dealing with your teasing and questioning, fueling the thoughts swirling inside his head.

"toshi, if you ever cum inside me, you should set it as your phone background! actually, wait, no, because what if your teammates see it..."

"..."

"mm, maybe a video instead? ooh, yeah, i want a video of you cumming in me then pullin' out so i can see it spill out, toshtosh, would you do that f' me?"

he doesn't reply and doesn't give you a chance to comment again. the visual you painted in his mind just too much for him.

next thing you know, ushi's got you folded in half on the bed, making sure you feel every drag of his stupidly fat cock against your hot gummy walls. he's pulling out to just the tip before slamming back inside you, groaning each time you let out a whimper of his name or squeeze down on him.

"toshi, t-toshi! h-hoohmygod, please, baby, c-calm down, 'm sorry f' teasin', oh my goddd...!"

you're so fucking wet and noisy, he wants to make you be quiet because he feels like your going to make him cum too fast but he'd never ever do it as the thought of not being able to hear you is painful.

he's lost track of time, your cunt making him brainless as he pumps his cock in and out of you as he groans your name, one of his hands pinning your arms to your back while the other presses your head into the pillows.

"s-shhh, honey, let...let me make you feel good, y're so loud..."

it's so fucking messy and sloppy, his cum is dripping out of your tight pussy from how many times he’s emptied his load into you, but he still isn’t stopping, no, he can't. it’s leaking from between your thighs, leaving a milky white sheen on his dick, dripping down onto the bedsheets.

"m-mmh, nooo, toshi, don' wanna be quiet, i-i wan' you to hear how good you make me feel, baby," you purr between moans, knowing that your voice was enough to get him off. the throb of his dick inside of you told you that you were right.

“i...i thought 'bout fucking you like this all day, during practice…that i���d fuck you full of my cum, get it so deep inside you," he mutters with a grunt, moving his hands off you so he could drape himself over your back.

"f-fuck, everyone knew something was off, kageyama kept asking me if-if was okay, how 'm i 'posed to tell him my pretty little honey is waiting at home for me to fill them with my cum?”

with an affirming coo, you manage to tilt your head to the side to look over your shoulder, wanting to see how ushijima is holding up and god, the sight is so sinful.

ushijima's dripping in sweat, his bottom lip swollen and puffy from his teeth digging into it. his fluffy hair is messy and sticking to his damp forehead, and his eyes are shut, squeezing in pleasure when the head of his cock brushed against that sweet spot just right, making your cunt spasm around him.

but his eyes keep opening to see the mess between the both of you. each thrust causes his cum to spill out around him, loud, wet squelches filling the bedroom. and it's only fueling his need to fill you up again, and again, and again, until he can’t anymore.

ushijima can’t stop himself, flipping you over onto your back and folding you into a mating press and, god, he's so fucking happy he did. the way you sob his name, your nails clawing at his back as you cry in pleasure about how much deeper he is now driving him insane.

“t-toshi, cum in me, please, wanna make you a daddy, please.”

“I know, baby, I’ll give you all of it, fuck you full of cum until you can’t take anymore.”

fuck, he’s so loud, he sounds so good. ushi's deep, drawn out groans and pants of your name making you go dizzy, his big hands squeezing your waist tightly each time your hands tug at his hair.

“mm, fuck, that’s right, take all my cum, look at you, so good, can you take more? let...let me cum in you again, baby, you promised you’d make me a daddy, right? i-i need to make sure it sticks.”

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[navybrat817]

Since we see this mentioned in Game Nights, what does it take for Bucky to stab John and how does the team react?

That is an excellent question, Cole! I'm so glad you asked.

Don't Look or Touch

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky isn't having a good day and John suffers the consequences.

Word Count: Over 2.4k

Warnings: Stabbing (yes, Bucky stabs John), arguing, humor, kissing, implied smut, Thunderbolts spoilers, we love Bob, possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: We have Not Exactly a Secret, Game Nights, and now this for our Tower Shenanigans. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411 (and thanks for the inspo!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky wasn't in a good mood today.  He claimed he didn’t need as much sleep as the average person, but he still needed to get some shut eye and he hadn’t slept well the night before. Too many things were running through his head. You wished he woke you up to talk or help take his mind off things, but you knew he hadn’t wanted to disturb your rest. Had the roles been reversed he would’ve wanted you to wake him up first thing. 

“I’m your girlfriend, Bucky. If something is bothering you, it bothers me,” you reminded him. “So, please, wake me up next time, okay?”

It didn’t matter how big or small of an issue it was, you’d help him through anything and everything.

“You need more sleep than I do,” he tried to argue, a ghost of a smile on his face when you narrowed your eyes. 

“I can always catch a nap later,” you said.

“If you say so,” he said, sounding in better spirits than he had moments ago.

But that didn’t last when he started fighting with Sam via text. He didn’t like fighting with his friends and it wore on him as the day went on. You saw it in how he carried himself. If that weren’t enough, Alexei accidentally shot a paint gun in the common room and hit Bucky’s thigh. The flare in his nostrils told you he was two seconds away from losing his shit when John laughed.

You half expected Bucky to punch John, but he silently got to his feet and went to change. “So sorry!” Alexei called after him, also leaving the room.

“Did you have to laugh?” you asked John. Sure, you all gave him a hard time, but he dished it out as well and it was clear that Bucky wasn’t in the best mood.

John shrugged, not at all phased. “He’ll live.”

“You won’t if you keep pissing him off,” you teased, going to get Bucky’s jacket while you waited for him to come back. 

Bucky returned a minute later, somehow looking more pissed off. Maybe it was because John scooted closer to you once you sat back down. As much as you adored Bucky’s signature grumpy stare, this was different. That look was on his face because of his bad mood. Your heart went out to him, and what kind of girlfriend would you be if you didn’t try to cheer him up? 

“Hey,” you smiled, holding out a hand so Bucky could help you to your feet. You gave him a quick kiss once you were close enough and handed him his jacket. “Let’s go for a ride.”

“A ride?” he asked, closing his eyes when you brushed his hair back.

“Yeah, a ride,” you smiled. As much as you both loved being in the tower, he needed to get out and you were more than happy to join him. “And maybe we can stop off at that bakery you love?”

Bucky’s eyes lit up. Between a ride with you and stopping off to get a treat, he’d be in a much better mood. “Let’s go.”

“Hang tight for just a minute. Just need to grab something,” you said, sneaking in another kiss before you headed toward your room. You wondered how much Bucky would argue if you tried to pay for the treats. He was always such a gentleman when it came to-

“FUCK!”

You stopped at the sound of John’s loud and piercing scream. It wouldn’t have been the first time he yelled, but that was typically done out of anger or frustration. This scream, however, sounded like pain.

“Oh, shit,” you mumbled, rushing back to the common room.

Your eyes went right to your boyfriend since he was always at the forefront of your mind. You took a step forward when he locked eyes with you, the coldness in the blues almost making you shiver. He happened to be right beside John who was a bit more pale than usual and gripping his arm like a lifeline. Your mouth fell open when you realized the former Captain America had a knife in his hand. And he wasn’t holding it, oh, no. Bucky’s knife was through his hand. You knew it was Bucky’s knife because you bought it for him. 

What the fuck happened, and why did that excite you?

Ava phased beside you, likely drawn by John’s scream. Yelena and Bob came in seconds later though Yelena didn’t seem too concerned. “What are you…” she trailed off with a snort. “That’s not good.”

Ava sighed. “And we just got the blood out of the sofa from the last incident.”

“No fucking shit this isn’t good! And who gives a shit about the blood on the sofa!” John snapped, screaming again when Bucky yanked the knife out. 

“You’ll live,” he muttered. 

Your eyes went wide. Super soldier hearing and all, had Bucky heard John mutter his earlier comment? “What happened?” you asked. You had only been out of the room for a few seconds. What possibly happened during that time to cause this?

John scrambled to find something to wrap his hand with. “Your fucking boyfriend stabbed me!” 

“Yeah, America’s Asshole, I stabbed you.” Sitting back on the sofa, Bucky got a cloth out of his pocket to wipe his knife. He stabbed John. He really did it. But why? “And you have the serum. You’ll be fine.”

You made the mistake of looking at Ava who had a smirk on her face. It didn’t do you any good to look at Yelena either since she also looked pleased. Only Bob looked concerned. And where the hell was Alexei?

“Okay, Bucky,” you began, trying to keep the laughter out of your voice because you had to be the mature one. “I know you threatened to stab him during Uno.”

“He put down Draw Four…” He sneered at John. “FOUR times.”

“I know, I know. Dick move. And I know I threatened to stab him because he raised his voice at Bob because, well, we don't yell at Bob.” You gave Bob a smile when he dipped his head. “But-”

“He’s lucky I didn’t cut this tongue out,” your boyfriend growled.

You tried hard not to whimper, which was tough since the sound was sexy as hell. “But why-”

“You can still cut out his tongue,” Yelena encouraged, taking out one of her own knives. “Allow me.”

You put your hand out while John took a few steps back. “No, Yelena. Not today,” you said, which earned you a pout in response before you turned your attention back to Bucky. “Just tell us why you stabbed him, please.”

“He talked about putting his hands on your ass!” Bucky snapped, wincing when he realized how loudly he said it.

You could hear a pin drop from the silence that followed. Your eyes darted between Bucky and John, seeing the mixture of anger and discomfort. There was no way John was dumb enough to say something like that in front of your boyfriend. Right?

“He what?” Yelena asked for you.

“Ew,” Ava whispered. 

“But she… she’s not your girlfriend,” Bob added.

“I didn’t say I’d put my hands on your ass!” John defended himself, taking a breath when everyone stared at him. “Look, all I said was ‘I’d never leave my bed if I could get my hands on an ass like that’ and that’s it! That’s all!”

You were thankful you didn’t take a drink of something because you would’ve spit it out. As admittedly smart as John could be when it came to missions, he could also be an idiot. “Bucky, put the knife down,” you ordered when his grip tightened on the handle. You couldn’t have him stabbing him again. 

Though it was kind of hot that Bucky stabbed someone in your honor. 

“I might stab his other hand,” he said. 

“Do it,” Yelena encouraged. 

John sputtered when Ava nodded in agreement. “What the fuck?”

“Okay, one, Bucky, we both know I’d never let John touch my ass. Sorry, but. No,” you said, shrugging at the bleeding agent. Your ass was off limits to him. “Two, it doesn't sound like he said he was going to put his hands on my ass.”

“I don't care.” Bucky carefully inspected his knife. “As far as he’s concerned, you don’t have an ass.”

The girls scoffed with you and you weren't sure if you should've felt flattered or offended. “Okay, old man, so I have no ass now? Do I not have tits either?”

You held your breath when Bucky slowly got to his feet, his jaw clenched. It wasn't fair how hot and bothered that stance made you. “Did he look at your tits?” he asked in a low voice.

John quickly shook his head out of the corner of your eye. You felt for the guy, but you weren’t going to lie. “He may have glanced at them when I leaned over the other day.”

“Oh, when you were wearing that black top?” Ava asked, humming when you nodded. ��Oh, yeah. He looked.”

“What the fuck, Ava?!” John shouted. “You looked, too!”

“I didn’t look,” Bob said immediately, his hands up in surrender. He was too pure for this world.

Bucky swung his head toward John. “Forget your other hand. Let’s see if that serum helps you grow your eyes back.”

Oh, shit. Maybe you shouldn't have said anything. “No! No more stabbing today!” You moved to block Bucky’s path. The mood he was in, you had no doubt he’d stab him again if he got the chance. “I appreciate you defending my honor and I always will, but we are going for a ride. Now.”

The former assassin pouting shouldn’t have been as adorable as it was. “But he-”

“You didn’t sleep well, you’re in a bad mood, and you need a breather,” you gently said, framing his face so he’d only see you. Your touch took most of the anger away. “Please, let’s go. We can go right to bed when we get back.”

Sex, cuddling, sleep, all of it, you’d give him whatever he needed later.

Bucky huffed, but put his knife away. He recognized that your tone wasn’t one to argue with. “He better not look again or try to touch you.”

“He won’t,” you said for John, looking over your shoulder to glare at him.

“Jesus, it was meant to be a compliment,” he told you, daring to glance at Bucky. “You have a good looking girlfriend, okay?!” 

“Stop talking,” you begged when Bucky tensed up. You had just calmed him down.

“If you want to compliment him or her, tell them how murderous they look,” Yelena suggested, looking to the others for support. “That’s cool, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ava said.

“Um, Bucky?” Bob asked. 

“Yeah?” he answered, slipping an arm around you. 

Bob swallowed a little. “If she looks nice, am I allowed to say so? Or should I just avoid looking at her?”

You giggled. Bob deserved the whole world. “You can say whatever you want,” you replied. Bucky would agree. 

“Okay,” he smiled a little. “I just. I-I don't want to get stabbed.”

“No one will stab you, Bob,” Yelena promised, ever the protector. 

John looked around the room and asked, “So, Bob can say whatever he wants, but I can’t?” 

“Yes,” everyone answered in unison. Bob wasn’t an asshole like John.

“Now apologize to each other so we can leave,” you said. The longer you stayed, the bigger the chance that Bucky would snap again.

The men stubbornly refused to look at each other, like children being scolded after a fight. John broke first when you cleared your throat. “Sorry for complimenting your girlfriend, I guess.”

“Sorry for not stabbing both of your hands,” Bucky mumbled.

“And we’re leaving now. Try to behave while we’re gone,” you announced, pulling your boyfriend away. Chances were that they’d start arguing over dinner or dish duty. “I can’t believe it.”

“What, that I stabbed him?” Bucky asked, grinding his teeth. “He gets under my skin.”

They were teammates now, but it didn’t get rid of the bad blood or the past. You sympathized with that. “I know he does, and I can’t believe that it took this long for you to stab him, but maybe try not to do that again?”

His warm laughter brought a smile to your face. “I’m surprised it took this long, too, and I’ll try not to again, but I’m not sorry that you were the tipping point.”

Your cheeks warmed. “Bucky Barnes stabbed a man because of me.” You weren’t exactly sorry that you were the tipping point either. “In his defense, my ass does look good in these pants,” you smirked.

Bucky waited a beat before he smacked your ass, making you shriek. “He still isn’t allowed to look or touch.”

Hadn’t you made it clear earlier that you’d never allow John to touch you? Even if you weren’t Bucky’s girlfriend, that would never happen. “So possessive, but I love that about you,” you teased.

His eyes softened, the look making your heart race. “I’m not too much?” 

Your gaze softened, too. “You’ll never be too much,” you assured him, almost to the elevator when Alexei waltzed by in his robe.

“What did I miss?” he asked.

“I stabbed John,” Bucky answered.

The Red Guardian looked stricken. “And I missed it?”

The last thing you heard before you and Bucky stepped into the elevator was John yelling, “What the fuck?!”

“Right to bed when we get back?” Bucky smiled, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss it.

“Right to bed,” you smiled back.

He pulled you against him to give you a deep and thorough kiss, one that left you breathless and yearning for more. “And thank you.”

“For what?” you asked breathlessly.

“For trying to cheer me up,” he whispered, touching your cheek. “And for being mine.”

You leaned into his touch, thrilled to be his. “Thank you for being mine, too,,” you said, hoping the ride and treat would make him feel much better before you went to bed. Maybe tomorrow he could hash things out with Sam. And maybe you’d look through the footage later so you could see for yourself that Bucky stabbed John. 

And maybe, just maybe, you’d make a copy of the footage for Bucky if he ever needed a laugh after a bad day.

So, did John deserve that? What other shenanigans do we think this group gets up to? ! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[chaoticbard]

Alaara stopped playing at the sound of Astarion's voice and turned to look at the elf. Her heart warmed at hi sight; she was glad he'd come.

"Astarion." She gave him a small nod before he sat down next to her. "It's a lovely clear night. Perfect for stargazing."

She turned her eyes upward then. "You know, some say that there are stars up there that live and breathe," she said. "They lend their power and friendship to chosen individuals. Usually druids. I have to wonder if that doesn't somehow tie into the 'our ancestors are in the stars' thing I mentioned to you earlier."

She gently snorted, letting silence hang between them both for a beat. After a moment, she pointed upward at a forty-five degree angle at a large, bright star.

"The brightest star in the sky, Ieriyn, or the Sailor's Star, is there. It can guide us to wherever we need to go even if we don't have a compass or a map to aide us. It points north. And there," she continued, moving her finger westward, "are the Double Daggers. Between them is where true west is."

"Our travels have been taking us westward. The Double Daggers have done well to keep us true to our course. And maybe, if you believe it, that little star nearby them is your uncle, telling you to eat all of your vegetables and make sure you keep your tent tidied."

Alaara snorted then, a toothy smile blossoming on her face.

"...Belief is a strong power in this world" she said, smile relaxing. "It can carry the someone through the worst of troubles. It couples with hope and faith, and it does not have to be rooted in any logic that we can clearly see or read. It can come from deep within, where fact transforms into feeling."

"One can hold belief, hope, and faith for anything. It can be big or small. Ridiculous or practical. It does not mean you will get your desired outcome, but I certainly think it helps your desired outcome manifest itself into reality. I happen to hold firm confidence in us finding a cure for our affliction. Maybe one could argue it's too confident, too certain. But I must hold onto it if we're to continue forward; the alternative is to wallow in sorrow until we die."

She looked down at the ground.

"That has nothing to do with stars of course," she said. "However, one could say that being able to see The Horn is a good sign."

Again her hand moved, and she pointed to a star cluster that had a V shape to it.

"The Horn is considered as a sign of wealth, good fortune, and fertility. And to Dwarves and Orcs, a sign of the manifestation of their god of war. Perhaps all are true in this moment? Though... perhaps one might need to stretch the definition of 'fertility' a fair ways to make it fit the situation."

Astarion isn't sure if he believes in such stories, but Alaara seems quite invested in them, and he wants her to trust him, so he'll let his curiosity win for this one. He needs this alliance more than anything else, after all. And who knows, maybe he can really learn something. "Alright, alright, darling. You won, I'm curious now." He lets a chuckle escape his mouth.

***

Once night has come, Astarion joins Alaara beneath the stars. He raises an eyebrow, listening to her music for a moment. She's so different than him. It seems like she doesn't have a glimpse of evil or of manipulation inside her. Maybe this kindness will truly help Astarion dealing with Cazador. Maybe she'll refuse to abandon him once she knows the truth about him.

"Here I am." He's offering his usual dashing smile as he sits next to her.

[keets-writing-corner]

Thinking a LOT about Lucifer in the latest Hazbin episode. Idk what I was expecting but not this??

As I was watching my immediate thought was just "huh... Lucifer is kinda of weird..." but as the episode went on I realized the issue

the dude is off the chain depressed, like he says it as a joke but holy cow it is SO BAD

He's manically just creating rubber ducks cuz his daughter really like it that one time but it's empty, it's never good enough but he keeps doing it, maybe cuz he doesn't know how to pass the time otherwise.

like I get the feeling he HAS better things he SHOULD be doing than making rubber duck after rubber duck. At first I was like, "Bruh why isn't the king of hell doing anything?" aaaaand then it became clear...

The dude is disassociating so bad he can barely hold a conversation let alone remember information. He clearly WANTS to, he wants to be involved with his daughter so bad, he wants to care about the things she's doing so bad, but his depression keeps interfering. It's like he can only hear every other word and he grasps onto the ones he does hear semi-out of context. Like you can see every time he catches something that he hadn't before and he just "well shit I didn't catch that part"

and that's why he reacts so weird when people talk to him. He is struggling so bad to engage with the conversation he's only getting 50% of it

does that look like the face of a man who knows what the hell the conversation is even about??? he is STRUGGLING

like Charlie spent so long telling him about the hotel, and he STILL didn't understand what she wanted. Yeah it comes off as ditzy but literally I've been in that position where your brain just "nope, not doing this right now" and nerfs your conversation comprehension. So as someone who's BEEN in that position, to me it feels exactly like what he's dealing with. He's sorta engaged with the conversation, but only as much as his brain will allow

For example, when I'm dealing with this, this is what someone talking to me feels like this where the crossed out parts are what I missed and bold is what I catch, "Hey! You know I was thinking for dinner we could either make some chicken with rice? But if you don't feel like cooking, pasta is super easy and you love that right? What do you want to do?" you can kinda get that someone is trying to talk to you about dinner, and towards the end you get the impression that they asked something that needs your input so you can decently put 2 and 2 together and try and pass off, but crucial bits were left out, I would have no idea that either chicken or pasta is in the conversation only having heard "rice". When someone is just talking at me, I can decently pass off as being engaged but the second I'm required to participate in the conversation I'm screwed. Seem familiar? At which point I have 2 options, try to give a bullshit answer, or admit that I missed what they were saying and ask them to repeat

Lucifer, unfortunately, is trying so damn hard to hide that he's dealing with like 24/7 dissociation, so he can't admit that he's missing entire chunks of the conversation, hence his really weird replies. He does eventually get the full picture and then he and Charlie start having the real conversation

Also, the Alastor/Lucifer rivalry was hilarious but also really indicative of more of what Lucifer is dealing with

Alastor is, unfortunately, really good at picking up people's insecurities, and thanks to Charlie's description earlier and watching Lucifer clearly trying to overcompensate, he immediately picks up on the fact that Lucifer KNOWS he struggles to be a good dad (we know cuz it's cuz of the depression, hard to be engaged when your brain keeps turning off) and decides to rub salt in the wound by pretending he's been acting as a surrogate father to Charlie. Now why Alastor decided to pick a fight with the king of hell is beyond me, I do not understand Alastor (and I LIKE IT) (maybe it's cuz Alastor thinks he's hot shit and was expecting Lucifer to at least have heard of him but Lucifer just treats him like a nobody? who knows)(why would Lucifer listen to radio anyways when he can't even pay attention to a conversation it'd just be white noise)

But yeah I just was expecting someone who oozed either charisma or presence and instead I got a depressed dad who's dissociating so bad he can barely function and be present in his life. The only thing it seems he CAN do is make rubber ducks cuz his daughter really liked it that one time

Idk Lucifer is tragic to me. Whatever the full details of what heavan did to him absolutely broke him and he can't deal with it. He's aware of it, and he doesn't know how to fix it, so he tries to over compensate and sorta makes an ass out of himself but no one says or does anything cuz this guy is supposed to be THE king of hell

Suddenly it's making a lot more sense why he just rolls over and lets heaven do what it wants and even told Charlie to go in his place the start of the show. He's not in any headspace to hold a basic conversation let alone negotiate! He didn't even know who Alastor was, he's been so out of touch

idk I like him, he seems sweet, I hope Charlie brings some light back into his life. He really needs to get out of that rubber duck room

[swytdoll]

(19)virgin!choso has the hots for his older neighbor(35):(

perverted. that’s how he felt as he watched you wash your car, in shorts so tiny they were practically underwear and a white tank top that was so soaked it was see through. the way the fabric clung to your breasts made his mouth water. he had been staring for at least 30 minutes and had gotten to see them from all angles. it was torture, sweet torture. he wanted to take you right then and there in the grass and hear his name on your lips over and over.

you were old enough to be his mom. in fact, he had had you as a teacher back when he was in high school and that made him feel guilty for looking at you like this. but he just couldn't stop. he couldn’t stop himself from fantasizing about being with an older woman, one that knew what she was doing and knew how to use him. you would make him feel like your toy and he wanted that.

you looked up and caught his eyes. he blushed bright red and quickly turned away. maybe if he had kept looking he would have noticed the smirk on your lips.

you were a teacher in more ways than one. you could teach him how to be a good boy and give you the pleasure you deserved. he wanted to sink into the ground when you began to approach him. you were smiling sweetly, but your eyes said something different.

you leaned against the fence separating your property and his, propping up one of your arms on it. you gave him a soft grin and he wanted to die. you’re so pretty to him. glowing eyes framed with thick wispy lashes, pretty plump lips. he can't look away, mesmerized, he watches the way your lips part and the tip of your tongue darts out to wet them. the sight makes his blood run hot and his shorts grow tighter.

"hello mister kamo," you hummed, "where are your parents?"

"i-i'm sorry i-" had he been caught? were you gonna tell on him?

"what's the matter? are you nervous?" you cooed, "i just wanted to say hi to your mom, see if she needed anything for the barbecue later. is she around?"

"she's- um- out. getting groceries," he replied quietly, not daring to meet your eyes.

"oh? and what about your father?"

"he's...working late," choso said. he was sweating and the bulge in his shorts was now painfully obvious. he wanted to die, to disappear from embarrassment. you smiled and let out a giggle.

"are you okay mister kamo? you seem awfully nervous." you’re batting those lashes and he swears he could melt, he clears his throat. "yeah! yeah, i'm fine, totally fine!" he blurted out, "i'll- uh- tell them you said hi."

"okay," you quipped sweetly and began to walk back to your house, "if you need anything, just let me know, okay?"

he nodded, "okay."

his head was spinning and he couldn't think straight. he didn't want to be alone, didn't want to go inside, didn't want to leave and miss seeing you again. he could still smell the strawberry of your shampoo from where he was. it was intoxicating.

"choso," you called out and he snapped out of his daze.

"yes, miss?"

"can you come help me? i dropped my hose and it's really hard to pick up."

"o-okay."

you lead him around the side of your house and he saw the hose was indeed on the ground, the water running. his hands were shaking, but he bent down and picked it up anyway. the moment he stood, you grabbed his hand and placed it right on your chest. he squeaked and tried to pull away, but you held him tight.

"you can touch me," you hummed, "i don't mind. is that why you were watching me? do you like older women?"

"i- uh- well- you- you're-"

"use your words, choso," you chastised him and moved his hand lower, making him rub his fingers over your nipple, "good boys speak when spoken to. did i ever teach you that?"

"y-yes," he whined and his hips bucked into the air. you gave him a wicked smile and pushed him to the ground. he landed on his back, legs sprawled out. his cock was standing up, pressing against his shorts and there was a dark stain where his tip was.

"such a cute little thing," you giggled and knelt down in front of him. you grabbed his legs and pulled them apart before getting between them. he squirmed and you grabbed his hands, pinning them to the ground.

"please," he whimpered.

"please what? be a good boy and tell me what you want," you cooed, pressing his hands into the ground.

"i- um- please...touch me," he whispered.

"like this?" you hummed and reached down to rub his clothed erection. he bucked his hips into your hand and moaned.

"yes, please, miss," he gasped.

"good boy," you purred and kissed him, he was putty. "so good for me."

your hands moved to his hips and he lifted them so you could pull his shorts down. his cock was already leaking and twitching.

"you poor thing, did you get this hard just from looking at me?"

"y-yes, miss," he moaned, "i couldn't stop thinking about you, how pretty you were and how much i wanted you."

"oh, you're such a good boy, telling me exactly what you want," you cooed and gripped his cock, stroking it slowly, "i should give you a reward, hm?"

"please, please, please," he whined, his hips twitching up.

"okay," you replied and leaned forward. you pressed a soft kiss to his tip, smearing the pre-cum on your lips before wrapping them around him. his back arched and he let out a loud moan. he couldn’t believe this, anyone could see him and you. his parents could walk past the fence and catch you sucking off their son. but that was part of the fun. it was forbidden and he loved that.

the sounds of your gurgled chokes as you slurp his cock are like a siren's song to him, the way you so dutifully suckle him to the base and take his entire length in your mouth without a trace of resistance. your jaw is slack as he slides between your lips, his hand gently cradling the back of your head, urging you forward until your nose is pressed into his belly. he's so big that even though your eyes are rolled back, your vision is obscured by the sheer size of his erection. your throat feels like a fleshy sheath for him, your breath forced out in tiny, rapid huffs through your nostrils, and your tongue is pinned.

and you're not just sucking his cock, either. you're swallowing. and every time your esophagus clenches down around the head of his dick, it sends him hurtling closer and closer towards an orgasm that he's determined to wring out of you first. he can feel you starting to struggle for air, but the way you're still obediently sucking his cock even while your lungs burn from a lack of oxygen.

“god," he rumbles, his voice like the sound of boulders shifting together. his grip on the back of your head tightens, and he grinds against your face, your nose and lips mashed up against his skin.

your stomach growls and churns in a desperate plea for nourishment, but the way he fills your throat is a completely different hunger. you can taste his pre-cum, his magic thick and warm and tingling on your tongue, and you suck and swallow with more enthusiasm. even though you're struggling to breathe, the idea of drinking his cum makes you feel like a starving woman given the key to a buffet.

"j-just like that," he praises you, his words coming out in a hiss as you clench down on him, your throat tightening in a futile attempt to keep his cock from pushing so deep into your airway. he whines when you withdraw, a string of saliva connecting you two.

"you taste so good, choso," you murmured, "have you had many girls do this to you?"

"n-no, miss, never," he groaned, "only you."

"and do you want only me to do this to you? do you want me to be the only one that knows how good you taste and how cute you sound?"

"yes! yes, miss! i want it to be only you, please," he babbled. you smirked and kissed his hip.

"well then, i better take good care of my boy, huh?"

"please, please," he whined, pushing his hips toward you.

"okay, i'll make you feel really good, sweetie."

you took his cock back into your mouth, licking at the tip and stroking the rest. his head was spinning and he could hardly breathe. you felt too good, looked too good, sounded too good. your soft lips wrapped around him, sucking and licking, teasing and pleasing. it was too much and yet not enough. his body was on fire, burning and aching.

his knees buckle as your warm hand palms his balls and your tongue traces the veins of his cock. he lets out a whine and grips your hair. you pull off his dick, letting it fall against his stomach. you press a few soft kisses to his tip, watching as his cock twitches.

"miss," he whimpered, "it hurts, please."

"what does, sweetheart?" you asked.

"please, let me cum, miss," he begged.

"already? did i make you that horny?"

"please, miss," he whined and bucked his hips.

"alright," you hummed, taking him back into your mouth.

"thank you," he breathed.

you bobbed your head, taking him as deep as you could. his fingers tightened in your hair and he bucked his hips. your nose pressed against his pelvis and your throat clenched around him.

"i'm close," he moaned, "i can't, fuck, it's so good."

a few more thrusts, and his movements become erratic. you're dizzy from oxygen deprivation, the edges of your vision growing dark, when suddenly his cock twitches inside you, and his hot, sticky cum fills your stomach. there's so much of it that you're actually able to feel yourself swell a little with the volume of his release, and the sensation makes you whimper and whine.

"you did so well," you cooed, crawling up and laying next to him, "was that your first time?"

"yeah. . . s-sorry i finished so quick." he mumbled, cheeks tinted brightly.

"you did so good," you repeated, pressing a kiss to his temple, he felt like he was going to pass out.

“i’ll see you tonight at the barbecue, yeah?”

he nods, fuck, you’re gonna be the death of him.

*peeps around corner* dare i say part 2?

[lavenderspence]

Bump Relief - S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, pregnant reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Making you comfortable while you're pregnant is his number one priority, so he decides to give JJ's little trick a try

Request: maybe Spencer hearing from JJ or reading somewhere that holding the baby bump relieves the mother and decides to try it on his girlfriend/wife? 

A/N: So a few days ago, I asked for short requests because I was dying to write something short. I sat down to write, and it got a little longer than I anticipated(I have no excuse). It's a known fact I can't write anything short, so I don't know why I try. I was going to post this tomorrow, but I really needed the serotonin I get from posting a fic, so enjoy! 

masterlist | requests are closed!

Spencer was twirling a pen between his fingers, deep in thought. All of his thoughts were about you because of course they were. 

He thought about you while he fell in love, proposed, and watched you walk down the aisle towards him. You occupied every waking moment when he wasn’t focused on his work, friends and mother, or hobbies. You were a constant in his life, and have been for years. 

But he’d been thinking about you a lot more in the last 6 months, and especially the last few days. About you, and the little angel.

At 34 weeks pregnant, you were glowing from the inside, just as beautiful as you’d been in your wedding dress. Or that’s what Spencer saw when he looked at you. 

But along with all the beauty of growing your little one came the few negatives, some of which he couldn’t help but notice too. How you hadn’t been wearing your wedding rings since the start of your third trimester. 

Or the light sheen of sweat on your brow just going up the stairs to your apartment. Or even the discomfort at the small of your back from carrying all the weight around. The small winces he heard coming from you, along with the scrunch in your eyes and nose. 

He wanted to take a part of your discomfort and bear it as his own. He’d watched you grow this little bean inside you for months, fight the morning sickness, and the only thing he’d been able to do was hold your hair and rub your back, watching as you suffered through it. 

Or the changes in your body, your clothes not fitting, or sometimes feeling like an outsider in your own skin. He’d been able to offer reassuring words, and kisses laid across your whole body, any point that sparked an insecurity in you - worshiped. 

He’d wake up in the middle of the night to satisfy your weird food cravings, or even the desire to have him as a snack. 

He’d been to every appointment with you - held your hand, wiped your tears, or kissed the crown of your head. You’d heard the heartbeat together, where he’d spoken in your ear, thankful to you for giving him the greatest gift of all to come in a few short months - being a dad. Something he’d wished for, for years, sometimes even thinking he’d never get to experience it. 

But that’s as far as he could help you and god, he wished he could do more. 

He didn’t hear JJ approaching and wasn’t even paying attention when she called his name out softly. And then again, and again. 

Snapping her fingers in front of his face worked like a charm though. 

“Yes?” He asked, after a light shake of his head to clear his thoughts. 

“Where’d you go Spence?” She leaned against his desk, giving his shoulder a small squeeze in support, “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s good,” He didn’t look or sound convincing, and watching JJ’s brow arch in question, he sighed, “Well, okay, not everything.” 

“What’s going on? Are Y/N and the baby okay?” She asked a frantic worry in her voice.

“They’re good and healthy,” Spencer confirmed, watching her let a sigh of her own. He decided then and there to seek her advice. She was his friend, and seeing as she’d been a mom twice now, she knew exactly what you were going through. 

“She’s been feeling uncomfortable, carrying the weight of the little bean around,” He smiled, simply mentioning his child softened everything within him, “And I see her trying not to show it that much, but it’s clearly exhausting her even more, and I wish there was something I could do to help, you know?” He sounded so small at that moment, rubbing his wedding band, feeling like he was failing you somehow. 

He knew that wasn’t possible, you told him daily how proud you were of him and everything he did and has done for you, but even now, he couldn’t help but worry sometimes. 

“Well, there’s this one thing that worked wonders for me when I was pregnant with Henry, and Michael too.” She started before she shared her little secret.

You breathed in deep, moving around yet again, and then exhaled a long breath. 

Your couch was one of the most comfortable things in the apartment - at least it had been before you’d started popping. Now it felt more like the most uncomfortable piece of furniture ever, but you knew that was just your inability to get comfortable - well, anywhere really. 

It was a struggle finding a way to feel good, but not like your baby was sitting on your bladder, or putting more pressure on your back than needed. You had roughly 6 more weeks to go, but you already felt about ready to pop. 

Your bean was grown in size - with a tall daddy like your husband, you weren’t even that surprised. You somehow knew that they’d take even more than his height - you hoped they’d inherit his best characteristics too. His love for learning, his calmness, and most of all his heart. Maybe his hair too - you loved his hair. And his smile. God you simply loved him.

You couldn’t wait for him to get home - the only time you felt like your whole body could relax was whenever he was with you, one hand or both thrown over your bump in a protective manner, talking to you and your baby quietly. 

You tried a few more times to get comfortable, a few different positions - leaning on your left, your right, or even with your back straight, and nothing worked.  

Another deep exhale left you and you simply gave up - lying on your back and praying for no uncomfortable sensations for at least a few minutes. 

Just as you felt your eyes droop - you wanted a few minutes to simply breathe - you felt a little kick to your left. It didn’t hurt, luckily for you, your little one seemed to be a pretty calm, small bundle so it wasn’t often any cry for attention left you rattled.

You did let out a little chuckle, rubbing the spot. As you rubbed at your stomach, small kick after small kick under your hand, you heard a key being inserted into the lock - the door opening and closing, keys rattling on the key hanger next to the door. 

“Sweetheart? Where are my girls?” He asked, as you heard the familiar sounds of him hanging his jacket and satchel, and taking off his shoes. You’d decided the gender would be a surprise, but Spencer insisted that it was a girl - you had a feeling he wanted to be a girl dad. 

You raised a hand, waving in the direction of the door, not wishing to move now, “We’re here, love.”

You didn’t attempt to push yourself up, you just stayed where you were, rubbing your belly and waiting for your husband to make his way over. 

Sure enough, just a few seconds later he was kneeling next to the couch close to your head, moving pieces of hair away from your face.

“Hi.” He whispered before he leaned down and laid a series of small kisses all over your face - one on each cheek, one on your forehead and nose, finishing with a gentle press of his lips against yours. It still made a small shiver run through you, just like it always did.

“Hi.” You returned when he pulled away, watching him as he leaned towards your belly then, kissing just next to where your hands were still sitting. A kick followed his kiss like your baby knew it was his daddy having returned from work. 

“Hi, little love.” It was his little nickname for them, and you loved it. You ran a hand through his hair then, soft and thick to the touch. 

With his hand sitting next to yours, wedding band gleaming in the light, he pulled you into another small kiss. His face was inches away from yours. 

“Can you stand up for a second, love?” He was whispering, content in keeping you three in a small bubble of touch and soft words. 

“Why?” It sounded like a whine, but in your defense, everything felt more comfortable than before now that he was there. 

His eyes softened then, understanding written all over his face, and a small smile on his slightly chapped lips too. 

“Just want to try something JJ suggested. Please? It’s going to feel good, I promise.” He kissed your brown in reassurance, and promise. 

You sighed again, allowing him to pull you up. 

“If I hate this, you have to go get me those super sour lemon candies from the candy store on the other side of town, okay?” You bargained with him. You’ve been craving those since last night, but he’d been going out on a limp for your every whim and you wanted to cool it for a day or two and allow him some time to breathe. 

He smiled softly, hand on your lower back, moving up and down. 

“Okay, sour lemon candy it is.”

“What are we doing again?” 

“Okay, I’m going to settle behind you, and I want you to lean your upper body against me, lay your head on my shoulder,” He instructed, moving behind you, hands on your hips just like he’d told you to do. His scent filled your nostrils, and you moved your head to the side to nuzzle his neck. He kissed your head, “Okay, now relax, and let me do all the work, yeah?” Again, soft, in a whisper. 

“What work -” You started before you felt his hands settle underneath your bump, holding onto it, and allowing the weight to fall on his hands instead of falling on you. You felt light like you were no longer carrying your little bean, but instead, it was safely nestled into his father’s arms. A half sigh-half moan left you, so relieved,  thankful in that moment, to JJ and to your husband. 

“Good?” He asked. Tears gathered in your eyes, so overwhelmed by the reprieve. You nodded, just a tiny bit choked up at that moment. 

“So, so good. Thank you.” You said, one hand moving to cup gently around his, face once again burying into his neck. You couldn’t believe the universe had granted you this man to be by your side for years to come. This dedicated, adorable, kindhearted man, and all his care. 

He rubbed his thumb against your bump, feeling your little girl kick against him, and he kissed your hair, holding you both, doing his very best to help in any way he could. Just like he always would. 

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[inkandapex]

you're worth it

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando Norris and Y/N share an undeniable connection, but the pressures of F1 and personal hesitation have kept them in the "just friends" zone. Despite their close bond, an unspoken tension hangs between them, each moment charged with what-ifs. With a little nudge from fate, aka, their best friend Max, the two are pushed to give things another shot. Will Lando find the courage to make his move, or will Y/N slip through his fingers, forever just out of reach?

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: swearing, light angst, mentions of anxiety.

Lando’s season had been anything but smooth sailing. Sure, the car was leagues ahead of where it had been, delivering near-constant podiums and even his long-awaited first race win. He was sitting second in the championship, closer to the title than he’d ever been. On paper, it was a dream season. But pressure had a funny way of twisting even the sweetest moments into something suffocating.

Lando had always been good at managing the weight of the sport—keeping his mind sharp, his body stronger. But even the best-built machines showed signs of wear. His friends saw it in the way his laughter didn’t reach his eyes. His team noticed the uncharacteristic silence between debriefs. His fans, ever watchful, caught glimpses of something heavier behind the usual smiles.

Now, with a rare break in the chaos, it was clear that he didn’t just need rest. He needed reinforcements.

“The food I ordered half an hour ago? Yeah… they just told me the restaurant’s actually closed now,” Lando muttered

Max blinked, mouth slightly open. “So… they told you there’s no food, and you died on Tarkov? That’s a double fucking shitter, my jeez.” He dragged a hand down his face, visibly pained for his best mate.

Lando let out a defeated laugh. “Hasn’t exactly been the best couple of months for me, really.”

Max exhaled. “Mate, you need a personal chef or something. You’ve got too much on your plate.”

“I actually have nothing on my plate right now, funnily enough.”

“Right, well—eating weeks-old frozen food from your fridge isn’t exactly the fix, is it?” Max sighed, already knowing that’s exactly what Lando was about to do.

"Don't really have much of a choice now don't I mate?"

"Chat's saying you need a girlfriend" Max states rather matter of factly

"You could say that again"

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A series of persistent knocks, followed by the sharp buzz of his phone vibrating against the nightstand, dragged Lando from the depths of sleep. He groaned, squinting against the soft morning light that seeped through the curtains, his brain sluggish as he reached for his phone.

A slight frown tugged at his face when he saw the caller—one of his closest friends. A couple of missed calls from both them and Max F. only deepened his confusion. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he pulled his hoodie over his head and shuffled toward the door, answering the call as he went.

“Y/N? I just woke up—sorry, could you give me a minute? I’ll call you back, someone’s at the—” He stopped mid-sentence, mid-step.

Because standing on the other side of the door, phone still pressed to their ear, was Y/N. Bags in hand.

"Hey… Max told me you knew I was coming. Him and P just dropped me off. They’re out running a couple of errands," Y/N said, ending the call and slipping her phone into her pocket.

Lando blinked at her, still processing. "No, actually, he didn't. I didn’t even know he was coming here. Did you just get here, or?"

"I landed about two hours ago," she said with a soft laugh. "Been standing here for the past twenty minutes, though."

"Shit, my bad, Y/N. I really didn’t know." Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair, his brain scrambling to recall any moment where Max might have maybe mentioned this.

"Hey, it’s all good! Sorry for dropping by all of a sudden—I really should’ve reached out beforehand anyway. I just thought you and Max had already sorted it out."

"What? No, Y/N, don’t apologize, silly." Lando finally snapped out of his trance and stepped aside. "Come in—fuck, I mean, the apartment’s a mess, but make yourself at home." He quickly reached for some of her bags, ushering her inside before shutting the door behind them.

"What exactly did Max say?" Lando finally asked, still scrambling to pick up the mess scattered across his living room. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to see you, but this is just so... out of the blue."

"Honestly? He was worried," Y/N admitted, grabbing a few stray items to help. "Said you didn’t seem to be doing too well. Thought maybe you could use some company during the break. Listen, Lando, I came here thinking you knew about this. I completely understand if you’d rather be alone right now—I know you’re busy and all—"

"No!" Lando cut in, pausing mid-cleanup. His expression softened, and for the first time since opening the door, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease. "I'm… I'm really glad you're here. Max is right. It hasn’t been easy." He exhaled, offering her a small, tight-lipped smile. "Thank you. For being here. I really appreciate it."

Then, with a playful tilt of his head, he spread his arms. "You gonna hug me, or are you just gonna stand there?"

Y/N let out a small laugh, relief washing over her as she finally saw that familiar spark in his eyes. Taking a few steps forward, she let Lando wrap her in a tight hug, his hold warm, grounding. Exactly what he hadn’t realized he needed.

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

The first day of Y/N being there was more housekeeping than anything else. Between cleaning up Lando’s apartment, clearing out the fridge, and fixing up the guest room, the day passed in a blur of chores. By the time Max and P finally arrived, the boys volunteered to head out and pick up some late lunch—partly because there was absolutely nothing to eat at Lando’s place, and partly so Max could finally discuss the sly plan he had cooked up.

A heavy silence filled the car as Lando gripped the wheel, his knuckles tightening against the leather.

"You’re awfully quiet," Max finally said, side-eyeing his best friend from the passenger seat.

"Oh yeah? Wonder why," Lando bit back. "Maybe ‘cause my best friend decided to go behind my back and plan shit without telling me. The fuck were you thinking not mentioning she was coming over to stay?"

"Mate, it was all in good conscience," Max said with an exaggerated sigh. "Plus, what happened between you two… it was months ago—"

"Exactly!" Lando snapped. "I haven’t even been back home to talk about it since. Fuck’s sake, Max… it’s weird enough I haven’t seen her in ages, but springing this on me? That’s insane, even for you."

Max groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "Why can’t the two of you just admit you like each other like the grown, mature adults you supposedly are and get on with it? It’s honestly exhausting."

"You know why."

"I actually don’t. Please, do explain. I’d love to hear whatever shit excuse you’ve got lined up. Go on then."

Lando let out a slow, tired sigh. "I’m busy, she’s busy. I can’t just drag her along with me and make her leave everything behind so we can be together. And you know how the media is, Max. I don’t want her dealing with all that hate. You’ve seen how bad it gets."

Max scoffed. "And what do you think she just did? She dropped everything to be with you when you needed her, yeah? Her choice. She’s already doing work at Quadrant—her own volition, might I add—on top of her own career. And might I remind you, you were the one who didn’t want to go through with it. From what I heard, she was willing to make it work."

"Yeah?" Lando let out a dry laugh. "From what you heard?"

Max smirked. "Fine. P told me."

"Lando, mate. If it all goes to shit—not that I think it will—I’m sure you’ll sort it out. She cares about you. And I know you feel the same way about her."

Lando sighed, pulling into the parking lot and turning off the engine. He leaned back against the seat for a moment before finally looking over at Max.

"I know you have good intentions," he admitted. "And despite how insane this is, I do appreciate it. I’ll… see where it goes." Then, with a smirk, he nodded toward the door. "Now go pick up the food, ‘cause I’m fucking starving."

Max narrowed his eyes, pointing a finger at him as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "This conversation is not over, by the way."

Lando just laughed, shaking his head as Max climbed out of the car.

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

Lando woke up to the unfamiliar yet oddly comforting sounds of pots clanking and the scent of food filling his apartment. It was so foreign that, for a second, he thought he was dreaming. Rubbing his eyes, he stumbled out of his room, hair a complete mess, barely awake.

"Morning," Y/N greeted, smiling as she wiped her hands on a tea towel. "There’s breakfast on the counter. I’ve got meals sorted out for the rest of the week—followed your diet, so don’t worry."

Lando blinked at her, then at the kitchen, which now looked like a fully stocked catering service. "It’s 9 in the fucking morning, Y/N. What time did you get up for all this?"

"Like… 6:30?"

"Y/N"

"What? I have jet lag."

Lando squinted at her. "We’re in Monaco. London is one hour behind."

"Okay, fine," she sighed. "I wanted to make sure I had it ready for you. It’s nothing, really—it didn’t take me too long."

"Nothing?" Lando gestured at the sea of neatly packed containers. "My kitchen looks like McLaren hospitality right now."

"It’s not a big deal, Lan, really, I—"

Lando didn’t let her finish. He reached out, gently grabbing her hand and stopping her from cleaning. "Could you—please slow down for a sec?" His voice was softer now, his brows furrowing as he tilted her chin up so she’d look at him. "Y/N, you don’t have to do all this. You don’t have to take care of me."

Lando sighed deeply, his arms instinctively pulling Y/N into a tight hug. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his heart heavy. "I don't deserve you."

Y/N’s arms wrapped around him, her voice soft as she spoke, her thumbs tracing gentle circles on his back. "You have me, either way"

Lando pulled back just enough to look at her, his expression clouded. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the words. "Look, Y/N... we can't. I can't do this right now. What I said about us—about this, months ago... that's still how I feel. I like you... a lot, trust me, I do. But this is too much, and I can't possibly ask you to—"

He couldn’t keep eye contact, his gaze drifting as if the weight of everything was too much to bear.

Y/N took a step back but stayed close, her eyes searching his. She offered a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "I get it, Lan. I’m here for you. As a friend." She took a deep breath. "What I said, about me wanting to be here... to do this with you... I meant that too. I still feel that way. I told you I can wait. You’re worth it."

"You two done being sappy, or should I give you a couple more minutes?" Max's voice echoed through the apartment, making both Lando and Y/N jump and scramble to step away from each other in a panic.

"You little shit, how long have you been stood there listening? You fucking weirdo." In a swift motion, Lando grabbed the nearest object, a spatula, and tossed it across the room. It flew past Max’s head, narrowly missing him as he stood frozen in the middle of the living room.

"So sorry, guys. I told him not to come in without knocking." P finally steps into the apartment, giving Max a pinch on his side. Max let out an exaggerated yelp, squirming away from her with a pained expression.

"Ow! Everyone’s so violent this morning," Max groaned, rubbing his side as P smirked, clearly satisfied with herself.

"You're ridiculous. Just gonna run to the bathroom real quick then we can have breakfast and plan the rest of our day" Lando shook his head with a groan, but a small, amused smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he leaves the room

Max took the chance to walk over to Y/N, who was quietly setting the table for breakfast. "You good?" he asked, his voice low, careful not to let Lando hear.

Y/N glanced up at him with a soft, knowing smile. "Take a wild guess, Max. Bet you heard enough to figure out how I'm doing right now." She let out a quiet laugh, but it was tinged with something he couldn’t quite place, defeat, maybe?

Max took a breath, his tone shifting to something gentler, more understanding. "Look, he... you know how he is. As much as I want this for the two of you, you don’t have to wait for him. He can’t just expect you to be there until he’s finally ready. No one’s gonna hold it against you." His voice dropped.

Y/N shook her head slightly, her smile softening. "You’re really sweet, Max, but I’m okay. I promise." She was careful, though, making sure her words felt sincere.

Max gave her a small, thoughtful nod. "Just trying to look out for the two of you is all."

"I know," Y/N replied. She didn’t need Max’s concern to know what was best for her, but it was comforting, knowing that someone understood.

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

Several races had passed since Y/N was last at Lando's apartment. Despite the distance, they’d kept in close contact—calls, texts, little check-ins whenever they could steal a moment. Lando was clearly doing better, each conversation revealing just how much he’d grown over the past few weeks.

Now, it was the Singapore Grand Prix weekend, and Y/N had finally managed to take some time off work. She’d been counting down the days until she could see Lando again, her excitement mingled with the kind of nervous energy that had been building up ever since she booked her flight. The anticipation was almost unbearable, especially when she considered how much her feelings for him had grown since their last conversation.

Despite the distance, despite all the unsaid things, she found herself thinking about him more and more, how his laugh had sounded over the phone, how his presence felt like a comfort when they’d been together. But now, standing outside of Mclaren's hospitality, waiting for Lando to step out his driver room after finishing free practice, everything felt good.

"Y/N! Hey, haven’t seen you around in a while. How have you been?" Zach, a close friend of Oscar Piastri, and someone Y/N had become friends with, walked over with a smile.

"Zach, it’s good to see you. I’m great, just been busy with work is all. The car seems good, Lando and Oscar are driving really well too" Y/N replied with a warm smile, happy to see a familiar face in the paddock.

"Things are looking great. We’re doing really well in the constructors, too. You waiting for Lando?" Zach asked, leaning against the railing casually.

"Mhmm, I’m catching a ride with him back to the hotel. He texted me, he’d be out in a bit." Y/N explained, glancing down at her phone to check for any updates from Lando.

"Right... listen. Are you free any time this weekend? Maybe even after the race? I was thinking—"

"Ready to go?" Lando's voice cut in, and he walked over to the pair, bag slung over his shoulder and phone in hand. "Oh, hey man, sorry, we gotta go. Got some friends waiting for us."

Zach smiled, stepping back. "Oh, don’t let me hold you back. I’ll see you around, Y/N. You still got my number, right?"

"Yep, I’ll catch up with you next time," Y/N said, giving Zach a friendly nod.

"Perfect. Hope you enjoy the weekend. It’s great having you back in the paddock," Zach said with a grin, stepping in to give Y/N a quick hug before patting Lando’s arm as he walked past. "Great stuff today, man. See you around."

Lando raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with slight bitterness as they walked toward the parking lot. "Didn’t know you two were close like that."

Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Yes, hello to you too, Lando. So great to see you after months, feels fantastic to finally be here with you."

Lando chuckled, though it was clear there was a hint of jealousy in his voice, "I didn’t mean it like that, just... you two seemed pretty chummy." He smirked at her, trying to play it off.

Y/N leaned back in the passenger seat, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Don't know, I actually think he's pretty cute."

Lando almost slammed the door shut in frustration, his face twisting into a scoff. "Cute? Right."

"What? You jealous?" Y/N teased, barely able to suppress the grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"I'm not," Lando grumbled, eyes focused on the road but his jaw clenched slightly.

"You so are. Your ears are red."

"I'm not" he repeated, his voice tinged with defensiveness.

"So you don't mind if I go out for dinner with him after the race then?" Y/N raised an eyebrow, her tone light but with a little edge, just to push his buttons. It was playful, but they both knew the boundaries—they weren’t together, not officially.

"No."

"No, you don't mind?" Y/N repeated, pressing him further.

"No, you can't" Lando snapped back, his hand gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly.

"Why?" she asked innocently, though a knowing smile played at her lips.

"Cause then you'll miss my victory party," Lando replied with a sly smirk, glancing over at her briefly.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, pretending to be unimpressed. "Oh wow, cocky now, are we?" She let out a laugh, though deep down, she couldn't ignore how his confidence was somehow making him all the more attractive.

"Wow" Lando gasped dramatically, glancing over at her with exaggerated disbelief. "You don't think I'll win this weekend? You're breaking my heart, darling."

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. "Don't get too cocky, Norris. The race isn't over until it's over."

"True," he said, eyes twinkling with amusement. "But I like to think I’ve got this in the bag. You better be there to celebrate my win, Y/N."

She met his gaze, her playful teasing giving way to something softer, something more real. "We'll see," she replied, a small but genuine smile on her face. "But if you win, I'll begin to think I'm your lucky charm."

Lando nodded, a hint of satisfaction in his expression. "You just might be."

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

"We’ve got this in the bag, Lando. Stick to Plan A, do what you do best, and we’ll take care of the rest. Focus on the drive, and if anything shifts, we’ll adjust. We’re counting on maximum points from you two tonight." Will, Lando's race engineer, pauses, his eyes locking with Lando's, waiting for confirmation after his brief but crucial words.

"Lando."

"Yeah yeah. Maximum points, drive fast, got it." Lando mutters, his response flat, his attention half there. As important as this race is, his mind keeps drifting back to Y/N. She’s in the garage, talking with Zach. His Y/N. The thought pulls at him in a way he can’t shake.

Will’s voice cuts through the haze. "I need 100% of your focus, Lando. The race starts in 30." He hands him his earplugs, but Lando’s gaze is distant.

"Yep, heard." Lando mutters again, his tone quieter, his mind still elsewhere as he turns to leave, the weight of his thoughts lingering like an anchor.

Y/N and Zach were in the middle of an easy, lighthearted conversation. Lando, across the garage, could only watch, his gaze sharpening as he noticed how comfortable Y/N and Zach looked together. The laughter between them, the way they stood too close, it ate at him.

"Y/N, can I talk to you for a minute?" Lando’s voice cut through the air, direct and intense, as he strode toward them.

Y/N looked up at him, surprised but giving him a warm smile. "Yeah, what’s up? You nervous?" She didn’t get up from her seat, still in that calm, relaxed mood.

"Alone" Lando said, his tone sharper now, as the urgency in his words broke through.

"Oh—yeah, of course." She rose to follow him, a furrow crossing her brow, concerned by the intensity in his eyes. They walked towards a quieter corner of the garage, far enough from prying eyes and cameras.

As soon as they were alone, she looked at him. "Is everything okay? Do you need me to call Max or—"

Lando didn’t give her a chance to finish. "I don’t like this. You and him, talking... being all flirty. I don’t like it." The words spilled out of him faster than he could stop them, relief and frustration flooding his chest. It was all coming out at once.

Y/N blinked, trying to keep her voice steady. "I’m not flirting, Lando. He’s just a friend."

Lando’s frustration reached its peak. "I’m just a friend, Y/N! Fuck’s sake... I can’t get in the car like this, not with this on my mind. Not like this." He ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated.

She stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. "Hey, Lan. What’s going on? You wanted this—actually, no, you didn’t want anything right now, did you? You said so yourself. I’m not doing this to make you jealous or get back at you, He's just a friend. That’s it."

But Lando shook his head, his voice shaking with vulnerability. "I don’t know what I want, okay! But seeing you... with him? I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. I can’t lose you."

A soft laugh escaped her lips, though it held a touch of sadness. She gently took his hands in hers, stopping him from messing up his hair further. "You’re not gonna lose me, you silly boy."

Lando looked at her, searching her eyes for some sign that she understood, that she felt the same pull. "One kiss. Give me one kiss. Let’s pretend nothing else matters. Just right now, right here, with you. One kiss before I go." His voice was a whisper, full of longing and desperation.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as she met his gaze, her eyes softening. She cupped his face, her thumb brushing across his jawline as she spoke quietly, almost to herself. "Nothing else matters... I don’t have to pretend. You’re all I want, Lando. Why can’t you see that?"

Lando exhales quietly, his fingers grazing her cheek as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. They stand close, the world around them fading into the background, neither in a rush to break the moment. Their eyes meet, lingering, only flickering downward for the briefest second before finding each other again.

"You take corners faster than this—are you gonna kiss me, or should I send in a request for DRS?" Y/N teases, tilting her head with a smirk.

Lando leans in, closing the small space between them, his lips pressing firmly against hers. It’s not their first kiss, there had been fleeting moments before, small pecks here and there, brief touches exchanged in passing, but this is different. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. Their movements are unhurried, deliberate. It’s a kiss that speaks of everything unspoken, deep and certain, carrying the weight of something that had been waiting to happen.

She’s the first to pull away, though neither of them really want to. But reality tugs at Lando, he has somewhere to be.

Before stepping back, he presses a lingering kiss to her lips, another lighter one at the corner of her mouth. His lips brush her cheek, then her forehead, a quiet farewell without words. When he finally pulls away, he catches the flush creeping up her neck and smirks.

"I'm quick when it matters," he murmurs. "But some things are worth taking my time on."

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

It was the kind of weekend that felt almost predestined, Lando wins in Singapore, by a massive 20-second gap to Verstappen in P2. But even with the trophy in his hands and the roar of the crowd in his ears, his eyes searched for only one thing.

And there she was.

Among the sea of faces, hers stood out effortlessly, beaming with pride, hands clapping in celebration. The victory was unforgettable, but this moment, seeing her there, cheering for him, was the one he’d carry with him forever.

Lando could hardly sit still. He’d been rocking on the balls of his feet, barely paying attention to the post-race interviews with Oscar, his mind already somewhere else. The second the cameras cut off, he was up, grabbing his things in record time, making Oscar chuckle at his urgency.

"Word in my garage is you’ve got yourself a little lucky charm now," Oscar smirked, watching as Lando fumbled with his phone, already dialing Y/N.

"Word spreads fast, huh?"

"Finally made a move?"

"Yeah, took me long enough," Lando laughed, giving his teammate a quick pat on the back as he pressed his phone to his ear.

The call barely rang before her teasing voice filled his speaker. "Why hello there, champ. Miss me already?"

A grin stretched across Lando’s face, warmth creeping up his chest. "Always, baby. Where are you? Need my post-race kiss, like, now."

"On your left."

Lando spun around, immediately spotting her seated outside the motorhome with Max and P. He didn’t even bother ending the call properly, just stuffed his phone in his pocket and made a beeline for her.

"There he is! Mr. 20-second lead. Mate, you were proper flying—"

Max didn’t even get to finish before Lando stopped behind Y/N’s chair, tilting her chin up and leaning down to kiss her. This one deeper, lingering, completely unbothered by the fact that they had company.

"Shit—when did this happen?" Max gaped, his arm tightening around P as if he needed something to ground him.

"Just before the race. Can’t believe you’re only finding out now, thought the whole paddock knew by now," Lando chuckled, hands rubbing Y/N’s shoulders as she sat there, visibly flustered, still adjusting to the attention.

"Well, damn. About time."

Y/N glanced up at Lando, still a little dazed, but the way he was looking at her, like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, made her forget about everything else. He pressed one last kiss to the top of her head before leaning down, voice just for her.

“You’re my good luck charm.”

She laughed softly, squeezing his hand. “Guess that means I have to stick around then, huh?”

Lando grinned, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “Oh, baby, you’re not going anywhere.”

[incognit0slut]

Stress Relief

You convince your husband to take out his anger on you when he comes home very tense.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) dom!spencer, sub!reader, oral (f), reader in handcuffs so light bondage?, choking, unprotected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, aftercare and domestic bliss because he’s still our beloved spencer

Words: 5k for 5k milestone celebration! TYSM ILY💘💘

A/n: I combined two requests asking for him to get all angry/frustrated because an unsub had a particular thing for winding him up (from anon 1) so he needs some kind of smutty release (from anon 2). You know who you are.

You could tell something was off. 

A sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach as the front door creaked open, and instead of the usual lively greeting from your husband, you were met with silence. It was as though he was physically there and yet you could sense his absence in the air. 

"Spence?" You called out, stepping out of the kitchen. When there was no response, you tried again. "Baby, are you okay?"

Your feet guided you down the hallway where you found him standing by the door with his back facing you. Even from behind, you could sense the foul mood he was in. His shoulders seemed more tense than usual, his hair slightly disheveled, and there was an edge to his movements as he closed the door with a loud thud.

"Babe?"

His response was brief, his gaze flickering towards you before quickly darting away, almost as if he were intentionally avoiding your eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey?" you echoed. "That's all I'm getting?"

When his eyes met yours again, you could practically feel the tension radiating from him. It was clear that he was angry, his usual calm demeanor seemed to be replaced by a subtle but palpable edge. There was a tightness in his jaw, a clenched fist by his side, and his usually warm gaze now held a hint of sharpness.

Only one thought crossed your mind whenever he came home like this.

"Bad day at work?"

He slowly nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head.

"Do you want a hug?"

He hesitated momentarily, his brows furrowing slightly as if debating whether to accept your offer. Then, without a word, he closed the distance between you. His arms enveloped you, pulling you close as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. Your hand instinctively found its way to his hair, fingers gently running through the soft strands.

"Oh, honey, you're so tense," you noted as your other hand trailed along his shoulder. "Is there anything I can help with? A massage? A nice warm bath maybe?"

You felt him shake his head against you, but you persisted, wanting to offer him comfort in any way you could. When your hand smoothed down his back, his hold on you tightened. When your fingers brushed the nape of his neck, you felt his warm breath caress your skin.

Then it happened—soft lips brushed against the spot under your ear, tentative at first, before growing more urgent. It wasn't the tender, affectionate kisses you were used to, but a different kind of intimacy that felt almost desperate. His lips nibbled and sucked gently at your skin and it became clear to you what he wanted.

"You want another kind of release, baby? Is that what you want?"

His lips momentarily paused against your neck, his arms loosening their grip around you before he rested his hands on your hips. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" 

"Because—” he stopped, his grip on your body tightening. “Because I don't feel like myself right now."

You grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him away just enough to see his face. "What makes you say that?"

Spencer held your gaze. How could he explain to you that he was on the verge of acting out his frustration? That he was so close to losing control? 

He knew how difficult he could be when anger took hold of him. In his younger days, he wouldn't hesitate to fire off sassy remarks and snarky comments, letting his emotions dictate his behavior. However, as he matured, he learned better to hide those emotions behind a composed facade.

But tonight felt different. Despite his best attempts to maintain his control, he could feel his anger slipping away, and it was unfair to burden you with it. Especially when you were offering yourself to him, so sweet and so pretty, when he knew love wasn't exactly what he could offer you right now. 

So he decided to release you, his grip loosening as he stepped back.

"Forget it," he muttered under his breath before turning towards your shared bedroom. Your brow furrowed as he walked away, leaving you standing there with your mouth slightly agape, bewildered by his sudden withdrawal.

"Spencer Reid," you called after him, your voice laced with a hint of irritation as you followed him. "I wasn't done talking to you."

He paused, his hand halfway to his tie before he loosened it with a sharp tug. You leaned against the bedroom doorway, crossing your arms as you continued to study him. His lack of response only fueled your growing annoyance, but you knew better than to escalate the situation into a fight.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you spoke up, your voice steady but tinged with frustration. "Honey, I can't help you if you're acting this way."

"What makes you think I need help?"

"The way you're wrestling with your tie gives it away," you replied, your words laced with a hint of sarcasm.

He shot you a pointed look, clearly unimpressed by your remark. "I don't need your help."

Your frown deepened. "Seriously? You're just going to shut me out like this?"

"I'm not shutting you out," he countered, moving around the room. "I just need some space."

"Well you're doing a pretty damn good job of it," you shot back, your patience wearing thin as you pushed yourself off the doorway. His jaw clenched, but he remained silent, his actions focused on undoing the button on his wrist now. You scoffed at his lack of response again.

"Oh, so now you're giving me the silent treatment?" When it seemed evident he was trying to ignore you, you pressed on. "Fine, keep your silence, let me do the talking."

His eyes flickered momentarily at you before he turned around, undoing the button of his shirt. You watched him quietly as he continued to avoid your gaze. 

"Spencer," you began, your voice softer now. "I know your job can be hard, and I know you're going through a lot right now, but shutting me out won't make it any easier."

“I've already told you, I'm not trying to shut you out."

"Then what are you doing?" you pressed. "I tried offering you help when you didn't want to talk about it. And the one thing I can help you with, the one thing I'm sure will help you relax, you refused." 

You let out a frustrated sigh, hating how much your voice wavered now.

"Spence... you—you didn't even want to have sex with me."

His shoulders stiffened at your words, finally turning to face you. "You think I don't want to have sex with you?"

You swallowed hard, feeling a knot form in your throat. "I don't know what to think anymore," you admitted. "You're giving me the cold shoulder, it’s hard not to take it personally."

The room seemed to close in around you, suffocating in its silence. Then, you watched as he began to walk towards you. One step. Two steps. Until his presence loomed over you, casting a shadow that suddenly made you feel small and vulnerable.

"I'm refusing to have sex with you right now not because I don't want to," he said, his voice dangerously low. "I'm refusing because I'm trying to protect you."

You frowned, confusion furrowing your brow. "Protect me from what?"

There was a moment of silence before he replied, “From myself."

You felt a knot tightening in your stomach, goosebumps forming on your skin as you struggled to comprehend what he was trying to say.

“I… I don't understand."

"I don't want to risk it. I'm afraid that if we... if we cross that line, I might hurt you."

"Spencer," you whispered in disbelief, as if his words were the most absurd thing you'd ever heard. "You would never hurt me."

He shook his head. "You wouldn't be so sure if you knew half of the thought in my head right now."

You faltered for a moment, taken aback by his words. Then your gaze involuntarily flickered down his body, tracing the lines of his open shirt and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze moved lower, taking in the way his pants hung low on his hips, and the trail of soft hair leading downwards.

You swallowed hard.

"Tell me then," you challenged, your voice trembling slightly as you met his gaze again. "Tell me how you'd hurt me."

He studied you, assessing, calculating. "You won't like it," he warned.

"And what if I do?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of surprise flashing across his features. "You don't know what you're asking for."

"I know what I want."

He regarded you for a long moment, weighing your words carefully. Finally, he stepped closer, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, "You really want to know what I'd like to do to you?"

You held his gaze. "Yes," you replied. "Tell me."

His lips curved into a faint, almost rueful smile. With a slow, deliberate movement, he reached out and traced a finger along the curve of your jaw. "I want to use you," he murmured. "I want to feel you, to taste you. I want to make you scream."

You could feel the heat traveling through your body, a heady mixture of desire and anticipation flooding your senses. You reached out, fingers trembling as they brushed against his chest, feeling the heat radiating from his skin.

"I want to control you," he continued, his gaze darkening. "I want to tie you up leave you bruises, mark your skin. I want you helpless, begging for mercy."

He tilted your chin up, his eyes locking with yours.

"I want to see how far you'll go for me."

Your breath caught in your throat as you drank in his words, and you couldn't deny the heat spreading between your legs. "And what if I want that too?"

A tense silence settled between you. Then slowly, almost as if testing the waters, he wrapped his fingers around your throat, simply holding you there. "You don't mean that."

"Try me," you dared, holding his gaze. "Put your hand between my thighs and see just how much I mean it."

His grip around your throat tightened ever so slightly while his other hand hovered at the waistband of your cotton pants. You felt a jolt of anticipation as he slipped his hand inside, your breath hitching as the pad of his calloused fingers dipped inside your panties.

A soft hum of approval escaped his lips when the slickness of your arousal coated his skin.

"Would you look at that? Barely even touched you and you're already this wet?" A low gasp fell between your lips as he found your clit. "You really want this, don't you?"

You could only manage a whimper in response, your breath coming in ragged gasps. 

"Tell me," he insisted, his breath hot against your skin. "Do you want me to stop?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to find your voice. "No," you finally managed to gasp.

With deliberate slowness, he trailed his fingertips lower, teasingly circling your entrance. He started with gentle strokes, keeping his fingers only on the outer side as you tried to bite back a moan that threatened to slip out.

“You dirty girl,” he muttered, and you feel yourself getting wetter as his finger continued to touch you teasingly. Then slowly, the grip on your throat loosened before his hand moved to cup your cheek.

“I need you to be sure," he whispered, "Because once we cross that line, there's no going back."

Your eyelids dropped lower as you chewed on your bottom lip, feeling the weight of his desire hanging in the air. It was a heady mix of uncertainty and anticipation, but one thing was clear—you wanted him.

You wanted him to use your body.

“Use me however you like,” you confessed. "I-I’m all yours.”

His lips were on yours in an instant. There was no mercy in his kiss, only raw desire and urgency. He kissed you as if he needed to breathe in your air, his lips moving desperately against yours, his tongue seeking entrance to taste you.

His hand then left your pants to cradle your face, holding you gently yet firmly as he explored every inch of your mouth, leaving you breathless and wanting more. Finally, he pulled away, his chest rising and falling heavily as he caught his breath. 

He looked down at you, his gaze intense, and saw the dazed expression in your eyes. Your touch, taste, and scent clouded his vision as you trembled in his arms, the soft sounds of your labored breath sang in his ears.

Mine, mine, mine.

"Now listen to me," he said, his voice low and commanding. "I'm going to leave you for a while, and when I come back, I expect to see you lying on the bed naked with your legs spread apart."

You swallowed hard, eyes slightly going wide. You felt his hand gripping your jaw.

"Do I make myself clear?"

You quickly nodded. "Y-Yes."

His grip tightened momentarily before he released you, his gaze piercing as he held your eyes for a moment longer. Then, without another word, he turned and left the room. 

With trembling hands, you began to undress, each piece of clothing dropping to the floor until you stood bare before the bed. The cool air prickled against your skin as you slowly climbed onto the bed.

You brought your feet onto the bed before spreading your knees apart. It felt weird, you had never felt so exposed and vulnerable, yet you couldn't deny the arousal pooling between your thighs. And then you heard him, his footsteps gradually coming closer and your heart pounded in your chest as you gripped onto the bed sheets.

His tall frame filled the doorway as he took in the sight before him, his eyes lingering between your legs. He watched your chest rise and fall, watched the way your legs fell apart even more as if you were offering yourself to him. Without a word, he approached the bed and stripped off his shirt. 

Before you could catch your breath, he stood over the bed beside you. "Put your arms above your head."

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of his gaze, but then slowly, almost instinctively, you complied, raising your arms above your head as instructed. You watched as he reached behind his back, and your heart raced as you glimpsed the glint of metal in his hand.

He didn't say a word as he reached for your wrists, securing them above your head with the cold metal of the handcuff, restraining you to the bed. The click of the cuffs echoed in the room before he stepped back, his eyes fixed on you with a predatory gleam as if he was admiring his handiwork.

Your pulse quickened as you lay there, exposed and at his mercy and you couldn't help but squirm under his gaze. He moved closer, his fingers trailing lightly along your skin, and you shivered, both from the chill of the metal and the warmth of his touch.

"You look so pretty like this," he murmured. "So helpless, yet so willing."

Your eyes followed his movement as his fingers moved to unbutton his pants. Then he was completely naked, and even though you had seen him like this countless times, the sight of his cock never failed to make your cunt clench in anticipation. He was thick and hard, with veins pulsing along its length and droplets of wetness glistening at the tip.

The bed sank under his weight as he positioned himself between your legs. You gasped when he leaned forward, the underside of his cock teasingly brushing against your wet folds as his lips met your collarbone. You bit down on your bottom lip as he kissed lower, stopping at your left breast, where he suckled on the supple skin just above your nipple.

His mouth latched onto your skin after taking a moment to try and keep himself from rushing into things. But he was a simple man. His lips worked precisely and diligently, and you watched as he left marks on your breasts, his teeth gently sinking into your flesh here and there, his warm saliva coating the faint markings.

The kisses left on your sensitive skin resulted in you whining for more. Spencer felt a rush of satisfaction like no other, his touches growing more urgent with each sound that escaped your lips. His tongue glided over your plump breasts, teasing and tantalizing, until finally, his mouth enveloped your nipple.

You squealed, squirming underneath him, and he smiled against your skin, his lips forming a knowing smirk as he continued to suck while his thumb flicked the nipple he wasn't focusing on. There was no doubt you would be left with bruises tomorrow morning.

Your eyes drifted downward just as he looked up, his gaze meeting yours, and you couldn't help but whine when the tip of his tongue circled your nipple teasingly. You reached out, craving the sensation of your fingers in his hair, only to feel the metal of the handcuffs digging into your skin.

"It's torture, isn't it? Not being able to do anything," he taunted with a laugh, shifting his attention to your other nipple. "But I guess that's the fun part.”

You whimpered as he softly bit your sensitive bud, and your back arched off the bed in response. He leaned back, admiring the marks he'd left on your skin.

"God, look at you," he murmured as his gaze lingered on your flushed skin, the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each breath. "I could do this all night."

Slowly, he lowered himself back down, his lips tracing a path from your chest down to your stomach. You squirmed, anticipation coiling tightly in your belly as his warm breath ghosted lower. His hair tickled your legs, and he took the opportunity to turn his head slightly to the side, immediately pressing a hot open-mouthed kiss against your inner thigh. 

You gasped as he sucked your skin into his mouth, teeth grazing over the flesh as if he was intent on marking every inch of your body. His lips continued to trail along your thighs but never quite reaching the place you craved him the most.

For someone with pent-up emotions, his movements were agonizingly slow. It was frustrating, the way he toyed with you, drawing out the anticipation until you couldn't bear it any longer.

"Please," you whimpered, the chains rattling softly against the headboard as you continued to squirm beneath him.

He paused, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he looked up at you. "Please what?" 

"Pl-Please touch me."

He kissed over your mound as he hooked an arm under your leg. His other hand reached for the heat radiating between your thighs before two of his fingers brushed along your outer lips, dragging your arousal along your skin. "Like this?"

You groaned as he kept on teasing you, stroking you with featherlight touches. “More," you pleaded desperately, almost pathetically. "Please."

His fingers stretched your folds, his gaze fixed on the glistening wetness, on the way your cunt clenched around nothing. "You're so pretty, you know that?"

"Spence..." you breathed out, feeling his breath achingly close to your heat.

He didn't respond with words. Instead, he lowered his head, his breath hot against your flesh. The minute his tongue touched you, you were already a writhing, whimpering mess. Your head began spinning, nerves and pleasure swooping into one big fuzzy mess in your mind as his tongue teased up and down your slit. 

"Oh my god," you whined the moment his mouth circled your clit before sucking on it, sending waves of pleasure along your body. And then, just as you thought you couldn't take it anymore, you felt his finger at your entrance, and without warning, he pushed in his digit, sending your head tilting back with a desperate gasp falling from your lips.

His groan reverberated against your skin as your walls clenched around him. He pushed his finger deeper, curling it inside of you as his tongue lapped at your dripping folds. With each movement, he pressed his face even further into you, relishing the sensation of your wetness coating his jaw.

Your eyes drifted downwards at the same time he looked up, locking gazes with him, and you let out the most filthy cry of pleasure. He held your gaze as his tongue quickened its pace, sucking your clit even harder as he added another finger inside you. 

Your mouth gaped open as you felt the delicious stretch, and you couldn't help but buck your hips towards his face. Spencer always had a fixation on pleasuring you, but not like this—it was never like this. He seemed desperate, almost possessive, as if he couldn't get enough of your taste.

He continued his relentless assault, his fingers pumping inside you with a steady rhythm while his tongue worked tirelessly on your swollen clit. The squelching sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of your dripping walla was so lewd that it made his cock stir against the bed.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you, the heat spreading like wildfire through your veins. Before you knew it, your climax hit you hard, without warning, without mercy, and you were gasping his name over and over.

You shivered and trembled beneath him, tossing your head back even farther, squeezing your walls around his fingers and your legs around his head.  But he didn't stop or even slow down. Instead, he pulled his fingers out of you, only to push your thighs apart even when your legs were shaking uncontrollably.

"Stop moving," he ordered as he leaned in, tasting you all over again. He didn't care that you were a complete mess, that you were still reeling in from your climax, that you were trying to move back away from him. All he cared about was giving you the best pleasure imaginable, and he was intent on seeing it through.

"Spence—” you gasped when his nose brushed your clit. “I-I can't—"

He gently held your fragile body in place to prevent you from running away from his mouth. "Hold still and give me another one." 

How could you not relent when he treated you like this, so considerate yet so rough? You groaned, your eyes meeting the ceiling as you felt his mouth continue its relentless assault on your cunt. The sensation was overwhelming, yet despite your protests, you couldn't deny the building pressure.

Your muscles tensed. Your breathing hitched. You gasped for air. And just as the waves of pleasure threatened to consume you once more, you surrendered, letting out a pathetic cry as your body convulsed with the force of your climax.

His tongue lingered over your sensitive skin, savoring the taste of your release, before he finally withdrew, allowing you a moment to catch your breath. He then lifted his head, your juices glistening on his lips as he watched your heaving chest.

Spencer had never been so thankful for his eidetic memory. He took in the sight of your hands, bound above your head, the rise and fall of your chest as you panted, the tousled strands of hair framing your face. His gaze lingered on the way your legs willingly parted for him, your skin flushed and pussy swollen, all because of him.

It was a sight he wanted to etch into his memory forever.

You bit your bottom lip as his gaze lingered on you, feeling your body flush under his scrutiny. Then, as if something within him shifted, he reached for you, urging your body to turn until you were facing sideways, the chains rattling softly as you moved.

He settled behind you, and your heart quickened as you felt him grab your leg, lifting it in the air. With one hand gripping your thigh firmly, he positioned himself between your legs, his hard cock pressing against your slick folds. 

You could feel the warmth of his body pressed against your back, his breath ghosting over your neck as he leaned in closer. With a deep, guttural moan, he eased himself into you, every inch of him sliding effortlessly into your wetness. You couldn't help but arch your back in response to the sensation of being filled so completely.

"Fuck," he murmured, the curse slipping past his lips in a breathy whisper. It sounded foreign coming from him and yet it only encouraged you more. You pushed your hips back into him, meeting his slow, deliberate thrusts.

"Needed this so much," he confessed, his breath coming out in ragged pants against the nape of your neck. "You have no idea how much I've wanted you like this for so long."

Your head fell back onto his chest, completely enveloped in him—the scent of his skin, the warmth of his touch, the rhythmic movement of his cock thrusting inside you.

"Thought it was wrong of me to take control of you," he muttered, his breath hot against your ear. "But you're enjoying this as much, aren't you?"

You whimpered, unable to form words as the pleasure consumed you and you felt him picking up his pace. The room was filled with lewd noises of your wetness along with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

"You like being helpless like this? You like it when I fuck you while being cuffed to the bed?"

Your breath hitched at his words. His hand left your thigh, but only momentarily. The crack of sound pierced the air, followed by a surge of sensation coursing up your leg. The realization hit you like a bolt of lightning—he spanked you. 

And you liked it.

"Answer. Me," he demanded, each word punctuated by the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Yes," you managed to gasp out. "I-I love being helpless."

He let out a sound of pleasure as he released your thigh, only to tease your clit with his fingers. You gasped, your head thrown back as he applied just the right amount of pressure, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You felt the intensity building, the familiar coil tightening in your stomach as he continued to pump into you, his fingers moving fast against your clit.

You tried to speak and warn him about your upcoming orgasm but you couldn't even think properly. The squelch of his cock driving into you roughly rang in your ears and with a sharp inhale, you felt the tension within you reach its peak. Your muscles tensed, your breath caught in your throat, and then, with an explosive release, you cried out his name.

He groaned as he felt you pulsating around him, your walls gripping him tightly. He continued to move within you, riding out your orgasm as his thrusts grew harder, more urgent until he couldn't hold back any longer.

"I need to see you," he breathed as he pulled out of you. Then he flipped you onto your back, guiding one of your legs over his shoulder as he settled between your thighs once more. The change in position brought you closer, the heat of your bodies mingling as you met his gaze.

Without a word, he pushed himself back into you, the slick heat of your cunt enveloping him. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, feeling your body growing sticky, every inch of you glistening with sweat, but his gaze remained fixated on you, unwavering and intense.

"So pretty," he murmured, his hand finding your face and cupping your cheek, absorbing your features in the dim lighting of the room. "My beautiful wife."

You whimpered as he dragged his hand down your skin, thumb brushing over your lips as he felt your hot breath on his fingertip. He watched your eyes switch between widening and fluttering half shut while he began pumping into you.

Spencer couldn't keep his eyes off of you as you took his cock eagerly, your breasts bouncing each time he thrust forward, your mouth hanging open with your tongue slipping out of your mouth. A whine followed through as his hand moved down to your neck, practically holding you in place as his hips collided against your own.

He gave a slight pressure around your throat, and your head began to loll against the mattress, chin pointed in the air in pleasure. The squeezing sensation was now beginning to take over your body, spreading from across your cheeks, to your ears, and up to your eyes, tears pooling right at the corner. The feeling even reached your stomach, tightening and coiling with the signal of your impending orgasm.

Was this your fourth orgasm? Your fifth? You couldn't keep track; all you knew was the overwhelming sensation prickling your skin. The bed below you felt as if it was on fire. The metal digging around your wrist burned with absolute pleasure.

His thrusts grew more intense, each movement raw and unrestrained, as if he was pouring all his pent-up emotions into you. He seemed to lose himself in the moment, his grip on your neck firm but not painful, but it was enough to make you gasp, your body trembling with pleasure, eyes rolling at the back of your head.

You were instantly gone.

A filthy cry fell between your lips as another orgasm crashed over you, more intense than the last. At some point you were gasping for air, feeling your body going limp but he didn’t stop. His hips had a mind of their own. You could feel them beginning to move like they were possessed, with no regard for your pleasure, and in a way, no regard for his. 

“Oh god—fuck!” You cried, arching your back as much in this position.

He groaned and leaned in, his arms pressing against the bed on either side of you as he pushed your leg up to your shoulder. He tried to kiss you, but the force of his movements made it hard. Instead, his lips hovered just above yours, both of you breathing heavily and moaning into each other's mouths.

Eyelids drooped a bit too low as your mouth went completely ajar, exhaling weakly. It didn’t take long for another wave of pleasure to rush through your body. You convulsed beneath him, thighs quivering violently as you tried to angle your body away from him, the pleasure almost unbearable now.

Through the haze of your orgasm, you caught a glimpse of him throwing back his head with his eyes screwed shut. Then he finally groaned—his movements slowing, breath sputtering from his lungs as he exploded, pumping once, twice, three times all before coming to a halt, cock twitching inside you.

You watched the sweat bead down his forehead as you both worked silently to relax your bodies, pulses pounding in ruthless rhythm. With a deep, contented sigh he finally slid himself out of you before going through his discarded pants on the floor. 

After a moment, he returned to you and unlocked the handcuff from your wrist, the sound of the lock clicking echoing in the room. The chains fell onto the bed with a soft thud as he gently took hold of your hands.

“Are you okay?"

You nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. "I'm okay."

He pressed a tender kiss to both of your wrists, his lips lingering over your pulse for a moment. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked anxiously, his eyes raking over your body. "Was I too rough? Did I—""

"Spencer, relax," you whispered, you took his hand in yours. "I'm good. I promise."

"You sure?" he asked, his face still tight with concern.

"Yes, more than good. Just come cuddle with me?"

He hesitated, his eyes scanning over your body for a few seconds longer. After he seemed satisfied you really were okay, he lowered onto the bed beside you and you drew his head to your chest. Your fingers gently played with his hair, watching as he slowly relaxed into you, throwing one of his arms across your stomach. 

"Thank you," he whispered. "I... I think I needed that."

Your attention shifted to his face, happy to see his expression finally somewhat peaceful as he lay just above your breasts. His eyes were closed, the tension you'd noticed on his face when he'd arrived entirely gone now.

Gently running your fingers through his hair, you whispered, "Of course, baby. Anytime you need me, I'm here."

His lips curved into a small, contented smile as he nestled closer to you. "I love you."

A surge of warmth filled your chest at his words. "I love you too," you whispered back. "But are you okay? Do you want to talk about what happened at work?"

You felt him shift as he shook his head. "Maybe later. I just want to hold you right now."

You gently kissed the crown of his head before pulling him closer. Spencer sighed happily as he snuggled closer to you, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against your chest. He then reached over your breasts, his thumb trailing over the marks he had left on your skin. 

"I didn't realize you enjoyed that so much."

You shrugged the shoulder beside his head. "It's hard not to. I mean, I think I've always liked it when you're in control, and that doesn't only apply to sex."

He leaned back to look at you. "Really?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah. Remember the first time we started dating and someone broke into my apartment?"

"How could I forget?" he replied, a frown tugging at his brows as he recalled the memory. “That was one of the scariest moments in my life.”

"Right. You thought some serial killer was targeting me when it was just a random robbery. But the way you handled the situation..." you continued, your voice softening. "When you took charge and made sure I was safe, I realized how much I trusted you. And I remember thinking, 'Damn, my boyfriend's pretty cool.'"

His frown melted away, replaced by a warm smile at your words. "You thought I was cool?" 

You chuckled, nodding as you met his gaze. "You're cool, smart, and hot at the same time," you teased. "What I'm trying to say is, I like it when you're in control because I like to depend on you. You make me feel safe and cared for."

His expression softened even further, a tender warmth filling his eyes. "I like it when you depend on me too," he confessed softly. With a gentle tug, he sat up, bringing you along. "Come on then, let me care for you now."

You looked up at him. "Yeah? What do you have in mind?"

"I think we both need that nice warm bath."

You smiled, already feeling the tension in your muscles ease at the thought of a soothing bath with him. "Will you wash my hair too?"

He pushed a strand of hair off your face, his heart swelling with affection at the look in your eyes. How could he resist when you looked at him like he hung up the moon for you? 

"Of course," he replied without hesitation. "I'll do whatever you want me to do."