#oh and of course the above includes me too
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i think it's also a problem in university arts departments too, in a way. for example, while i was in undergrad, my home uni's philosophy department refused to ever assign presentations (as well as group work) as an adequate form of assessment. this however, imo, gave plenty of students, including myself, excuses to just straight up refuse to do their readings bc "it's only marked as part of my 5% or 10% participation grade.... so what's even the point of reading sindquist, anderson and zazo "the examination of the twin earth problem from the systems analysis standpoint" (not a real paper) or whatever the fuck in the philosophy of mind, for example. "i can just pretend i've done the reading and scab answers off everyone else in the tute, if we have minor unmarked group work".
this bred a student base of mostly uninterested, disengaged, confused students (and some bitter legal and journalism etc/media & comms students who found philosophy to be "a waste of time" bc "i can already argue!!!! bc im going to be a lawyer and/or journalist!" and "i was also in debate/parliamentary/school newsletter team at school!!!!" and also..... HOW and WHY are you doing journalism etc/media and comms or law if you don't ACTUALLY CARE about the fundamentals of argumentation, rhetoric/discourse (which you'll be creating with your so-called "think pieces" in journalism and media!!!), logic and language??? are you fucking stupid??? [tbf they were teenagers. of course they were going to say dumb shit]). i was one of the above philosophy students, obvs. because how the fuck are you meant to communicate these ideas to people when you're NOT doing the readings??
when you're not FORCED to do the readings, for a presentation or, y'know just the essays, you just make excuses not to do them. tbf. like yes, i could do the 2,500 word essays and 500 word essay plans just fine. but when it came to engaging with the readings, i couldn't get past more than the second page of every 50 page reading. but if i was given a presentation to do??? bruh, i probably would have forced myself to do at least 10 to 20 pages of all of the readings??? i DON'T want to look like a fuckwit in front of the 25 to 30 people in my tute time class. but just giving me essay upon essay upon essay??? and the occasional open book exam/take home exam? you're giving me an excuse to just coast by on the bare minimum and then force out an essay 8 hours before it's due, in the hope i'll get at least a credit/65% to 70%, minimum grade.
you're giving everyone the horribly stereotypical impression that the philosophy students are just locking themselves in their bedrooms (their classic ivory towers) to do their essays and nothing else. that they don't know how to communicate complicated, esoteric ideas to the layman through a presentation..... and then, very suddenly, and ironically, you expect grad students to be happy to present to a crowd their dissertation??? or just to their thesis/dissertation advisor every week??? what the fuck??? HOW does that make ANY sense??? how does that give anyone in this study stream CONFIDENCE to present???? the confidence to have the literacy to present their cogent arguments, when in undergrad they weren't deliberately given presentations in this field to practice these skills??? "oh but they'll have them in english. or sociology. or cultural studies.... so why do we need them at all?" to be fair, for me, i had to address this after an anxiety attack before a presentation in ancient history. i went to toastmasters. and lo and behold, i did meet the occasional philosophy postgrad person there. because they were far too nervous to present each week to their thesis advisor. after 3 years of NO presentations in their philosophy undergrad (and possibly their WHOLE degree). we also got plenty of engineering honours people too, right before their thesis presentations. because a similar thing happened in their field, apparently.
okay yes, i had good literacy skills in general in school and in uni, in my actual major, english. i learnt the hard way with exams and inclass tests to DO the readings, or at least do a really good study jamming session at least 2 days before sitting modernists and having to write an essay for james joyce's portrayal of himself in "a portrait of an artist as a young man" (i FUCKING HATE this book. fuck james joyce all the way to hell) , a book i couldn't read past page 10. but my god. the literacy skills in philosophy classes were ABYSMAL. mostly because everyone refused to do their readings and refused to even grasp the topics we were doing. and tbf, probably on this post, my comprehension is in hell. because due to the devaluation of arts in society, i don't engage in textual analysis or read as much dickens or bronte or dickinson, etc, as i should these days. which is what i think is wrong with engineering or science majors (and other high earning degrees) having low literacy skills.... and moreover, the overall bs discourse on YT of "ONLY do degrees that GENERATE MONEY! don't you DARE go into the arts when you KNOW you will NEVER pay it back! who needs reading comprehension and literacy, when they don't PAY THE BILLS AND STUDENT LOANS BAYBAY!?"
all in all, yes. in the end the philosophy dept did introduce marked presentations AND group work (yes philosophy did NO group work the whole time i was in uni), right as i was graduating in 2018. because. of course they did. and yes, a lot of is down to the a student's drive and interests in the subjects they choose. and how they interact with their readings and classmates. but also, i think it can rest on department teaching and assessment tactics as well. certain departments NEED to have presentations in their curricula because HOW FUCKING ELSE are students going to develop the necessary communication and comprehension skills to present or just normally talk to people about their course content??? if the whole general vibe from the student base is "oh we NEVER do the readings!"
i also feel this is an issue with the media and comms dept at my home uni, deliberately cutting off their old cross department majors/minors within the arts department option that was there when i began in that degree. so now if you want to do an english major with your media and comms degree, you're actually now FORCED to do a double degree.... and most esp if you're in the marketing comms and advertising major that i originally chose, you HAVE to do a major or minor within the degree stream ONLY. like i get on some level that it's to do with cross media skills and employability skills. and that in the last 10 years (wow what the FUCK) since i started uni, digital media skills and study IS its own field. but also. but also, what about the broader social context brought from a history major or sociology major or an english double major??? WHY does it HAVE to be a double degree???
ANYWAY. that's my rant. and probably, my reading literacy and comprehension on this post was poor. so piss on me (or don't)- is that what fall out boy said all those years ago???
I cannot stress the importance of paying attention in language classes in high school. Maybe the reason why your English teacher taught you about unreliable narrators is because a lot of the media around you is written by unreliable narrators posing as reliable. Maybe they gave you assignments on interpreting texts so you could draw your own conclusions about news articles. Some of you clearly thought English classes were useless in high school and now are unable to engage critically with media.
#life#about me#GOD YEAH#ilona gets on her soapbox on a huge post#shut up ilona#ilona adds to a big post#ive probs ranted about the wrong thing#but also it's important to engage in at least ONE or TWO first year arts course in uni#if you're in a diff field and your degree program allows it imo
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Why do we Keep Playing These Games?
Chapter 4: It's Only 10 Minutes
Ch.1/ Ch2./ Ch.3
synop: College TA au
Jayce Talis... He's your unrequited sworn enemy. You are the object of his obsessive affections. After discovering your disdain toward him, He decides to win your heart... Through playing games. Winner gets to make the loser do whatever they want. You'll take him up on the bet, but what will happen if he wins?
words: 5.5K
includes: jaycexfem!reader, viktorxfem!reader, jayvik, sex, dry humping, sexual frustration, making out, betting, sexual tension, enemies to lovers
a/n: This chapter includes explicit content!!!
“Checkers.”
“Hmm?” The tan man lifted his head from his note taking and looked at you.
“The next game we play. I want it to be checkers.” You gave him a smirk. Despite his embarrassing bet, you had to admit you were already enjoying your games. Never one to back down from a challenge.
“Okay. If that’s what you really want.” Jayce raised a questioning brow.
“It is. So you better brush up on your checkers skills.” You gave him another smirk, one that had him melting.
The man didn’t mind your taunting. In fact, he would gladly listen to your jeers all of the time. If that meant you wouldn’t stop talking to him, he’d take it.
You didn’t want to reveal to him that you were enjoying his company as well. Still doing your best to remain playful only when you were arguing about the bets.
“Are you also a checkers champion?” He asked you coyly.
“Ha ha.” You stuck your tongue out at him.
He clutched his chest as if he was in pain, still grinning.
“Oh cut the dramatics, Talis.” You poked his cheek. “I don’t need to have won championships to prove that I’ll beat you at this classic board game.”
“Mhmm, we’ll see about that.” He grabbed your hand that poked him, the action shooting a spark up your arm.
You tried to pull away, but his grip held you there. He used his strength to pull you closer. Your face just inches from his. Practically tasting the smirk on his lips as you wet your own in nervousness. The peek of your tongue catching the man’s eyes as he studied you closely.
“We could just end this feud easily, you know?” He said, his voice husky.
“As if I’d do that.” You scoffed, your breath fanning his face.
“Oh c’mon. I know that you enjoy spending time with me.” He gave you a gapped tooth smile. Eyes challenging you.
“I do not.” You said lowly. Oh, you’ll take on this challenge.
“Of course, you are my rival.” He gave you a wink, sending heat to your cheeks. Your expression making the man chuckle.
He leaned further into you, noses practically touching.
“You know, you get flustered quite easily.” He teased.
“I do not…” You trailed, obviously lying. Feeling yourself get even more flustered at his proximity.
You kept trying to avoid looking at his lips while he deliberately stared at yours. God, he desperately needed to kiss you. Your lips looked so soft, so perfectly malleable to his. He bet you tasted wonderful too. Teeth worried over your own lips as he stared at you. His eyes flitting up to yours, noticing your breathing had picked up. It would be so easy, to just lean in to you. And based on your current state, you would comply with his actions.
Before he could move, the door opened. Viktor stood in the doorway, a curious brow raised at your compromising position.
“Am I interrupting something?” He asked, amber eyes searing into you.
Jayce released his grip on you, and you stumbled backwards, catching yourself on a chair.
“N-no. Nothing important.” You gave Jayce an accusatory glare.
“Well, if you’re going to copulate in the office…I suggest you lock the door.” The skinnier man gave you a knowing smirk. The mole above his lips emphasizing the curve of his mouth.
“Viktor…” You warned.
“I’m just saying. I won’t judge. I know how Jayce is…” He trailed, looking at the other TA.
A blush bloomed on Jayce’s face at Viktor’s words.
“V, c’mon not here.” He pleaded.
“What’s this about?” You motioned between the two of them.
“Oh not much. Jayce and I just know a lot about each other. Very… close partners.” He leaned down to kiss the man on the cheek.
You snickered as Jayce grew more flustered. How the tables have turned.
“Don’t think you’re out of this unscathed, Miss l/n.” Viktor teased.
“Don’t.” You felt the red return to your cheeks.
Viktor chuckled at both of your states of embarrassment.
“Don’t worry, Jayce already knows about our exploits.” Your eyes widened at the admission.
“You told him??” You asked incredulously.
“Of course. He’s my best friend. Plus it was material for him to think of while alone with only his hand to keep him company.”
“Viktor, don’t think I’m above killing you.” Jayce grit his teeth.
“You know what, I think I’ve found something I agree with you on.” You chuckled, Jayce’s demeanor suddenly shifting. Beaming at your statement despite how dark it was.
“Would you look at that!” Viktor exclaimed. “If I had known mutually embarrassing you both with tales of past sexual exploits would bring you together, I would have done it much sooner.”
“Asshole.” You said.
Viktor dramatically fell into one of the seats around the table with a sigh. Leaning his cane against the wall, before turning to you.
“And you love me regardless, don’t you?”
Jayce decided to join in with Viktor’s teasing. Wishing to see how much you could squirm.
“Vik says you’re pretty loud.” Jayce chuckled.
“Oh no, you do not get to use that against me, Talis.” You growled. “Especially because I know you wish to experience that yourself.”
The man’s jaw tensed, a heated gaze fighting against your own.
Knowing Viktor had you first had been a sore spot between the two of them years ago. Jayce and Viktor were roommates, and Viktor had no idea the man held affections for you at the time.
It was just a fling for a few weeks. Nothing crazy. Well, it was kind of crazy. His appearance was deceiving. While Viktor might look meek, he was anything but. A domineering personality hidden behind his soft spoken ways. That dominance had you melting in his very capable hands. The thought of your times with Viktor making you shiver.
“Are you thinking about it?” The man in question caught your reaction.
You shot him a glare.
“No. Of course not.” You said a little too quickly.
“That’s too bad.” He hummed, long fingers tapping on the table. The movement catching your attention, causing you to recall more events with him.
Like the time that you were at a house party your freshman year. His tongue practically down your throat as his fingers skillfully played with you. That night you had obliged his request of not wearing panties under your short skirt, and boy was he enjoying that fact.
“Such a good girl.” He breathed, leaving a trail of kisses on your neck. His teeth grazing your pulse making you gasp.
“Viktor…” You moaned softly.
“Mmm…I like it when you say my name like that.” He sucked on your neck, leaving a nice purple mark. One that you would catch yourself looking at all week. Jayce spotted it too, silently seething at his roommate.
“Keep going, miláček. I’ll make you cum on my fingers.” He continued to whisper sweet nothings in your ear. His fingers skillfully rubbing through your folds. Thumb sliding over your clit, causing your legs to tremble.
“Viktor, please. Please don’t stop.” You were practically sobbing.
In college you were expecting disappointing one-night-stands, but you were pleasantly surprised when Viktor took an interest in you. He was definitely a pleaser. While he enjoyed maintaining control, he preferred to take care of his lovers. You included.
“I can tell you’re close. You’re squeezing so tight.” His fingers brushed against the tender spot inside of you. “I bet you’ll feel wonderful around my cock.” That was another thing that surprised you about Viktor, how good he was at dirty talk.
His words making you clench against him again. The knot building in your stomach, ready to snap. Breathing becoming ragged as you ground into his palm. Feeling the heat pooling in your core. A final swipe against your clit becoming your undoing. His lips capturing yours as you moaned through your climax. Still riding his fingers till the overstimulation became too much. The man pulled out of you, then brought his fingers to his lips. Moaning as he tasted you.
“Next time I’ll enjoy a taste straight from the source…” He reached for the zipper on his pants. “But first, I need to fuck you.” Viktor was good at remaining composed, but having you cum on his fingers so easily awoke something primal in him. No longer did he just want you, he needed you.
He pulled you to the bed scooting his pants and boxers down his legs. Grabbing a condom out of his pocket and quickly tearing the packaging. He rolled it on, before guiding your hips to his. Appreciating how wet you were as your pussy swallowed his dick. Both of you groaned as you slid down his length. A sheen of sweat already on his forehead as you began to bounce on him. His dick the perfect size to reach the parts of you that left you trembling. Your face buried in his shoulder as you rode him in bliss. The sounds of your pants and moans covered by booming house music in other parts of the home.
So soon, you felt your climax approaching once again. Viktor’s hands, bruising on your hips as he forced you to ride his cock. Making you sob in the process. Too much, yet too good to stop.
“Please cum on my cock. I need to feel you.” He breathed against your neck. His own climax approaching.
His words making you shatter above him. Clenching his cock, making the man cum in the process with a guttural groan.
Back in the office, you shivered at the memory.
“Heh. You are thinking about it.” His gold eyes teasing.
“I’m sure Talis is thinking about you too!” You sounded like a toddler throwing schoolyard insults. Face red as you did so.
“Th-that’s not true!” Jayce lied. He glanced at his pants, feeling his cock grow semihard.
Viktor was a skilled lover with all types of people. Jayce included. His roommate offering his assistance for the first time after a particularly difficult time softening his morning wood.
“I can assist, Jayce.” He said cooly, as if it were a just simple task to complete. Jayce could tell otherwise, the man’s amber irises growing dark with hunger.
“You can?” Jayce asked hesitantly.
“Of course, you just have to ask.” The man carefully stood up and made his way over to him. Jayce’s heart hammering in his chest.
He had never been with a man before. Not that he was against it, there was never an opportunity. And now he had one offering himself up. Oh boy.
“Well.” Jayce removed his hand from covering his crotch. “I would like a little assistance, please.” He bit his lip in worry, hoping he wouldn’t disappoint.
Viktor hummed in approval. Appraising the man’s cock through the tight boxers he was wearing. He could tell Jayce was huge, not that he minded.
“Good boy.” He watched in amusement as red bloomed on the man’s face.
He slowly leaned up to kiss him. Viktor’s lips were slightly chapped as they pressed against Jayce’s smooth plump ones. He opened his mouth, allowing Viktor to taste him. Groaning as their tongues intertwined. When Viktor pulled back, a trail of spit snapped between the two of them. Smirking, Viktor kissed down Jayce’s body. Kneeling most of his weight on his good leg.
Licking his lips, Viktor looked up for consent to remove his boxers. Jayce nodded enthusiastically. Cock twitching as Viktor drew along the shaft with his finger. The action causing the man above him to whimper. Viktor pulled down his boxers, mouth watering as Jayce’s cock sprung free. He didn’t waste a moment. Kissing up the shaft, then licking the head. Jayce shuddered, a moan escaping him.
“Fuck, V.”
Viktor slipped his mouth around Jayce’s length, making the man moan yet again. He could feel Viktors smirk as the man began to bob his head. Each movement sending pleasurable sparks through Jayce. At this rate, the man was going to cum at any second.
A whine cut through the air when Viktor popped his mouth off Jayce. He grabbed one of the taller man’s strong hands and placed it on his hair.
“You can fuck my mouth, you know. I can take it.” He said with a wink.
The action caused something feral in Jayce to snap. Thick fingers curled into brown locks, forcing Viktor’s head on his dick. Jayce didn’t hold back any of the sounds he was making. Just enjoying the pure bliss that his roommate had put him in.
Soon he felt the searing heat of his climax forced out of him. Thick ropes of cum hitting the back of Viktor’s throat, which the man swallowed gratefully. Afterwards, Viktor wiped off his mouth giving Jayce a smirk. Appreciating the sight of the man panting and sweating above him.
In the office, Jayce could feel himself growing hot. Recalling the memory of his partner in vivid detail. Both of you looked at the man you had been fantasizing about. Despite it being so long ago, you could somehow feel his fingers on you once again. Jayce pictured the man’s mouth, hot and wet taking his cock again. The thought made him softly whimper.
That immediately caught your attention. Sparks shooting straight to your core as you processed the sound you had just heard. Now wondering if you could get Jayce to make it again. You were sure you could.
A knock at the door, startled you all. You slowly turned to the door.
“Come in.” You croaked, voice suddenly very dry.
The door opened and one of the students in the Monday first period course poked their head in. He waved awkwardly as he entered. Looking confused as he took a seat at the table.
“I didn’t realize all of you were going to have office hours at this time.”
You looked at the clock on the wall above the desk.
“That’s because it’s no longer my office hours. We were just catching up. Thesis talk and whatnot.” You blabbed on, attempting to shove down your flustered state. Quickly picking up your things. When you went to grab you bag you realized Jayce had already picked it up for you.
“Thanks.” You muttered, slinging it over your shoulder.
“See you later!” Viktor called out, a knowing smirk on his face.
You made your exit as fast as possible. Once outside of the building, you caught your breath. Those men were going to be the death of you.
“She was in quite the hurry.” Viktor quipped to Jayce.
The other man was staring at the door that you had just exited. His jaw tense as he recalled the conversation you had just left. Willing his erection to soften, despite picturing you flustered. Both of you, thinking about your times with Viktor. He eyed the man that was aiding the student. Golden eyes glancing in his direction as that smirk still played on his lips.
Fuck… Not the two of you fucking with his head. He groaned, then paused. Eyes wide as he realized he made that noise out loud.
“Everything alright, Jayce.” Viktor spoke lowly, eyes hooded.
Jayce held back the whimper threatening to escape him. Instead, opting for clearing his throat. He pushed himself up, and walked to the door.
“I’m gonna go get some fresh air, I’m… nauseous.” He bit his lip, waiting for Viktor’s response.
“Of course. Hope you feel better.” The teasing glint still dancing in the man’s eyes.
“Thanks.” Jayce exited the room, already feeling ten times lighter.
Viktor chuckled to himself. The student before him was even more confused. He couldn’t think on the interaction much though, as he desperately needed Viktor’s help before Heimerdinger’s first exam coming up.
Outside, Jayce sighed in relief. The tension in that room had been too thick. He was sure when he returned, Viktor would continue to tease him. At least for now he could relax. That was until he saw you. Leaned against the wall of the building, still catching your own breath. Feeling your heart slow down in your chest. When you opened your eyes, you locked with hazel ones. The flutter of your heart jumpstarting once again.
“Are you doing alright?” Jayce asked, voice laced with concern.
“Yes.” You breathed out. “I’m fine.”
“Viktor can be a lot sometimes.” Jayce said.
“Heh. You can say that again.” Your heart fluttered. You grasped your chest, willing your heart rate to slow.
Jayce’s brow furrowed at the action. Two fingers pressed against your throat. The speeding beat of your heart, making his own pick up the pace.
“Your heart is racing. Are you sure you’re alright?”
You batted away his hand, ignoring the chill his touch had brought.
“You said it yourself, Viktor can be a lot.”
“Yeah.”
The two of you stood in awkward silence, waiting for the other to speak. After calming down, you decided to leave.
“Uh, I’m gonna go now.” You looked away from him, avoiding his gaze.
“Okay.” He tried to hide the disappointment in his voice. “Have a good rest of your day.” He said awkwardly.
Before turning to go, you gave him a polite smile with a nod.
He watched you leave. Mentally punching himself. Why did he always push you away somehow? That vulnerable moment could have become something, he was sure of it. So, why was he such a coward that couldn’t do anything? He groaned, resigning himself to another failed attempt at getting closer to you.
Jayce was clearly in a poor mood when he returned to the office. Viktor glanced at him, the polite smile on his face dropping slightly as he noticed Jayce’s demeanor. As the student took notes, Viktor took the opportunity to give Jayce a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. The man touched his hand gently, accepting the comfort.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next Monday came quickly. You spent the entire weekend playing checkers against Mel. The woman growing tired after the fifteenth time. You on the other hand were cheering. Appraising your many kinged pieces. Jayce Talis wouldn’t stand a chance against you.
“Oh I’m definitely going to win this one!” You exclaimed.
“You’re very determined. What exactly did Jayce make you do to motivate you so much?” Mel said as she reset her side of the board.
“Um…” You hid your face in embarrassment.
“That bad, huh?” She chuckled. “You’re lucky I love you so much. I don’t think anyone else would be willing to play checkers until 11 pm on a Sunday with you.”
“Hey, I offered you dinner.” You gave her a cheeky smirk.
“That you did, and I will be taking you up on that offer.” She smiled back, moving the first checker piece.
Little did you know, your rival had been subjecting his roommate to the same torment. Formulating strategies to beat you. Sweating when it seemed that Viktor would win, despite the fact there was no wager on the table. The skinnier man, groaning when asked to play again. Yet, he still obliged. Amused at his partner’s antics.
“C’mon V, just one more. I swear.” Jayce said excitedly. Still coming down from the high of beating Viktor, yet again.
“Jayce, I’m sorry. I need to sleep. And that means a lot coming from someone like me.” The sleep-deprived man pointed to the clear bags under his eyes to emphasize his point.
“It’s too early to go to bed.”
“It’s 2 am…”
“Wait really?” Jayce looked at the time on his phone. “Oh.” He looked at Viktor sheepishly.
“I’m going to bed.” Viktor groaned as he stood up. Hours of sitting hunched over had done quite some damage. “You owe me one, Talis.”
“Of course.” Jayce said, giving Viktor one of his charming smiles.
The other man rolled his eyes and shuffled to his room. An unmade bed ready to accept his tired body.
Jayce decided to call it a night as well. Feeling giddy at the prospect of winning again. His next wager was one he was going to savor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Monday passed by smoothly. It was week two, and you had already found yourself in a simple pattern. Working Heimerdinger’s classes, studying, eating lunch, attending your own classes, prepping your thesis pitch, then attending your office hours. That final part of your day had Jayce accompanying you. When you weren’t working with a student, he was doing his damndest to get you to engage in small talk. Pressing himself as close as he could to you, so you wouldn’t be able to ignore his presence. After minutes of his badgering, you would somewhat oblige him. Answering his simple questions, throwing quips his way. The banter made the man swoon.
It was odd to you. You had never experienced this kind of attention from anyone. Sure, you had your fair share of suitors in the past. But none had thoroughly expressed their interest in you like Jayce had. It was almost refreshing how honest he was. Well, it would be if it didn’t annoy you so much. While you might have softened somewhat around the man, there was still a bitter part of you that saw him as an antagonist in your life. He still hadn’t truly figured out why you viewed him as an enemy just yet. But Jayce was patient, he could wait.
What he couldn’t wait for was your weekly game. Crossing his fingers that another student wouldn’t walk through the office door at the last minute. Luck was on his side that night. Once the clock struck ten, the man practically sprinted to the door to lock it. Sighing with content that the real fun had begun.
You rolled your eyes as you pulled out the checkers board. It was a hand-me-down from home. Stuffed in a beaten up black box that had seen better days. You laid out the board, smoothing it down. Jayce watched your hands as you placed the pieces on the board. He thought they looked soft. From the times he had managed to somewhat hold your hand, he knew they were. God, he wished to feel your hands on him. Hopefully, after his win he would get the opportunity.
“Alright Talis, you ready to get crushed?” The fire of competitiveness burned in your eyes. You needed this win.
“I think you should be asking if you're ready to be crushed by me?” He chided.
You stuck your tongue out in response. Waving your hand you offered him the first move.
He obliged by moving his first piece forward.
“I’ve been strategizing, you know.” You said smugly.
Two kinged pieces stood proud on the opposite end of the board. Jayce’s jaw tensed. Alright, well played…
“Have you now?” He questioned you with a heated gaze.
“Mhmm. And I think I’m doing pretty good…” You pushed a piece forward.
Jayce chuckled, taking the opportunity to hop over the piece. A frown taking a hold of his face as you pushed a different piece to the end of the board. An outstretched hand held towards him so you could crown another piece.
“You tricky little thing…” He muttered to himself.
You hadn’t won yet. All he had to do was rethink things. Today was not the day you would beat him. Jayce was determined.
The man found a crack in your system. Managing to easily crown two of his pieces after taking two of yours.
Your brow furrowed in frustration. This was not how it was supposed to go. The pink of your tongue peeked between your lips, catching Jayce’s attention. Eyes following as your tongue trailed your lower lip as you concentrated on the game. You caught the man staring, a blush creeped to his cheeks. The expression on his face making you giggle.
“Like what you see?” You teased.
“Mhmm.” He attempted to keep his composure, instead of lunging for you across the desk.
Ever since that conversation with Viktor he had grown more desperate for you. Every part of him craving for your touch. To have just a moment to feel your lips against his. It was pathetic, Viktor told him as much. The other man couldn’t blame him though. There was something about you that had this… pull. Others did not seem to have such an effect.
The game was nearing its end. You and Jayce had an equal amount of kings, now it was just a matter of who reached the end first. Just one more space… You reached for your piece, but Jayce stopped your hand. Tilting his head to the board as you saw he had manage to make it the opposite side first. Eyes widening in shock as you turned to look back at him. A smug smile on his face, eyes alit with pride.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” You shot out of your seat. “I was so fucking close! This close.” You pinched your fingers together in front of his face. He only chuckled at your exasperation.
“And you lost. By that much.” The man mimicked your hand, fingers in front of your face. You bat away his hand with a growl.
“Feisty.” He commented.
“Whatever…” Your stomach dropped. He had won, which meant…
“So, you ready to hear what you have to do?”
Gulping with nervousness, you nodded. Hoping it wouldn’t be embarrassing.
“You have to…” He dragged it out. Like he was a game show host before an ad break.
“Jayce… just say it.” You spat.
“Again, you’re no fun.” He pouted dramatically. “But I will oblige. You have to makeout with me… for ten minutes.” He quirked a brow at you, waiting for your response. There wasn’t a hint of shame on his face over the request.
Your face on the other hand was bright red.
“Makeout? Are we in high school or something?” You sputtered out.
“If it’s not enough for you I could…”
“No!” You interjected, with your hand out to stop him. Not wanting to think of the more “adult” things he would suggest. With a sigh you shrunk down, accepting your fate. “I’ll do it.”
Jayce wanted to jump for joy. Enjoying the sheepish way you were looking at him. You were adorable. He reminded himself to savor the moment.
“So, how do you want to do this?” You asked. This was happening. It was actually happening.
“I wanted to leave that up to you. Whatever you’re most comfortable with.” He gave you a soft smile.
You nodded, mind racing with all of your options. Pressed against the wall, laying down on the table, straddling his lap… that one. At least you would have more control. Biting your lip, you mustered up the courage to speak.
“What if I straddled you?” Jayce gulped. There was no way the man would not get hard with you wrapped around him on his lap.
“And what exactly do you constitute as making out? Just kissing? A little tongue? Groping?” You pressed. Seeing Jayce become flustered had your confidence growing.
You walked up to him then sat on his lap. Arms wrapped around his shoulders. He stared at you, mouth open. Your legs wrapped over his thighs. You gave them a squeeze, appreciating the quiet whimper that came from the man. No, you weren’t supposed to be enjoying this. But… indulging a little wouldn’t hurt, right?
“Got a timer started, Talis?” You whispered in his ear, feeling the man beneath you tremble.
With wide eyes he nodded. Pulling out his phone he set a timer. Waiting for you to start before pressing the button.
Closing your eyes, you took a breath. Opening them you saw Jayce watching you, captivated. Hazel eyes sparkling with adoration. His tongue swiping his bottom lip in anticipation. You took that as your cue.
Leaning in, Jayce began the timer. The phone clattering onto the table behind him, freeing his hands. Warm palms slid up your body as you pressed your lips against his. So soft… you thought. Enjoying the way they molded to yours. One of his hands rested on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. Your chest pressing up against his. The gasp you let out, opening your mouth for him to take advantage of. His tongue, hot, slid into your mouth. Tangling with yours as he let out a strangled groan. The sound shooting heat to your core.
Feeling you unconsciously shift your hips above him had him moaning. His lips leaving yours. Kissing down your jaw and neck, finding that sensitive spot near your collarbone. The one that had you shivering and letting out a moan of your own. The noise made Jayce shudder.
Fuck, he was hard. Really hard. This was a moment he had been dreaming about for years, and all it took was a silly bet to get you in his arms. To have his lips consuming yours. To make you shiver under his touch.
It almost had you questioning why you avoided the man so much. If you had known he could make you feel like this from kisses and touch alone… well you might have changed your mindset a bit. Regardless, the past was in the past.
Now, you allowed yourself to enjoy this moment. Softly moaning as his teeth grazed over your sweet spot. He was panting as his lips searched for your own. Groaning deeply as they reattached. Savoring your taste as his tongue slid against yours.
Hips grinded against yours, making you squeak. Through his pants you could feel his strained erection. He was fucking huge. Of course he was. The thought of his size had you drooling. Feeling yourself grow wet as you imagined how he would feel. A particularly loud moan escaped your lips as you ground yourself against him. Jayce’s hips stuttering at the action. The hands on your hips tightening, holding you in place. Jayce pulled you away from him. His kiss bitten lips swollen, pupils wide. He was panting as he spoke.
“D-don’t do that…” He pleaded.
“What, gonna cum in your pants?” You teased.
“Yes.” He said bluntly. Sending a spark straight to your core.
“Oh.”
The man tangled his hand in your hair and pulled your face to his. His warm breath fanning your face. He shifted your body on his lap, setting you on his thigh instead. Pushing the hard muscle against your pussy. The pressure making the searing heat in your belly grow.
“If you need to grind on something, I don’t mind you fucking my thigh.” He said with a low chuckle. Enjoying the desperate look in your eyes.
He wondered if you’d actually do it. If you did, he would probably cum in his pants regardless if you dry humped his cock or not. Oh how he had wished to pleasure you. Having you fall apart in his hands was a dream come true.
You whimpered as you dragged your clothed pussy against his leg. Dampness seeping into your panties and jeans. The man groaning at the sight. Your chest heaving. Catching his eyes, you paused. Why were you doing this? You weren’t that desperate, were you? Yet, seeing him in such a disheveled and needy state had done something to you. The hands gripping your thighs moved to your ass. Grasping at the fat, and pushing you on his thigh. Forcing you to fuck his it as you leaned back in to kiss him.
Tongues tangling as you gave him hot opened mouthed kisses. His lips devouring yours once again. You felt yourself trembling in his arms. It had been a long while since you had been with anyone, and it was showing. You whimpered as Jayce continued to move you against himself.The growing dark patch on his jeans making him smirk as he continued. You wanted this as much as he did.
Much too soon, the sound of the timer chimed. Immediately, Jayce stopped. You whined, trying to grind yourself against him. As he held you in place, he made you look at him. Desperation in your eyes almost made him cave, almost. He smirked at your disheveled state. Hair tangled from him grabbing it, lips swollen, a small drop of drool at the corner.
“Time’s up.” He said, still catching his breath.
You whined. So close, I was so close!
A warm hand caressed your face.
“Oh, don’t be like that. I’m sure you’ll get another chance. Or… you can beg.” His eyelids drooped with lust. “You’re pretty good at that.”
You sputtered at his words.
“I will not beg.” Your demeanor had shifted.
So what if you were still horny? That man could be quite infuriating when he decided to be.
You pushed yourself off of him, ignoring the twinge against your clit as you slid from his thigh. Huffing as you composed yourself, pretending not to notice the wet patch you had left on his leg.
“Hmph. Still no fun, I see.” He said, giving you a cheeky smile.
“Whatever, Jayce.” You spat, avoiding his gaze.
“You know, I like it when you say my name.” He grabbed your hand and kissed it softly.
Slowly, you turned back to him.
“Even when I’m practically growling at you?” You questioned.
“I love a feisty woman.” His words made you shiver.
“You sure are something.” You muttered.
“Something that you like?” His eyes pleaded with you.
“Maybe.”
He’ll take it. He’d take anything he could get.
#jayce arcane#jayce arcane x reader#viktor arcane#mel medarda#college au#modern au#arcane#arcane fanfic#jayce talis#enemies to lovers#smut
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I really don't want to make another political post because a few of the other ones blew up and I felt like I was getting an ulcer, but I just want to say please please please don't idolize people on here or on twitter. no matter how many social justice buzz words they throw at you please remember they could be absolutely anyone. just because someone acts confident does not mean they have ANY idea what they're doing.
#I think the fact that starbucks#(a company that is not and has never been on the BDS boycott list because they don't actually have any direct connection to isre*l)#is THE figurehead of the twitter BDS boycott movement#should tell you that social media is not a reliable place to be getting your information from#and never ever feel bad about questioning someone or asking them to explain themselves#(I mean as long as they are positioning themselves as some sort of authority on a topic or trying to convince you to do something)#if someone tells you 'the answer should be obvious'#that usually means they don't actually know the answer themselves#or they are intentionally trying to manipulate you#and remember it is always ok to just admit you don't know something#oh and of course the above includes me too#I am going to make mistakes#and as much as I try not to I am going to accidentally reblog misinformation or say the wrong thing or take a stranger's word for something#<- which is why making posts like this stresses me out but#idk just a reminder
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I know it’s an old adage that Jews are the canary in the coalmine and that antisemitism is a sign of a society turning towards bigotry, fascism, & authoritarianism, but I don’t often see people explaining how this works, so let me give you just a couple examples:
Peeling back the layers of this post about Shaq participating in the “Stand Up to All Hate” campaign, what do we have? We have a Jewish philanthropist donating to youth sports programs and organizations that provide assistance for minorities & underserved communities in Israel (including Arabs, Muslims, Palestinians, women in very conservative Jewish communities that may not otherwise have the opportunity, etc.) to enter STEM fields, who runs a series of ad campaigns to encourage people to stand up to not just antisemitism but ALL bigotry. All of this gets cast as being “pro-genocide” somehow.
In the course of casting all of this as sinister & evil, who is affected?
a high-profile Black man is slandered
giving aid to Palestinians in STEM demonized
same with aid to Orthodox Jewish women in STEM
as is giving to children’s sports programs
even THE most milquetoast “don’t sit by idly when people around you are racist, homophobic, exist, etc.” message gets smeared as sinister
Taking a closer look at the rhetoric around “contextualizing” & “explaining” rape as “resistance” in the October 7th attacks, what do we have? A structure for rapists to excuse their violence is created. Jewish & Israeli victims are disbelieved The Palestinians affected by Hamas & similar orgs’ normalization of sexual violence are erased. Palestinians are presented as if they just can’t help raping.
Who is affected:
any violence no matter how depraved against Jews & Israelis is softened & excused
the experience of Jews targeted for sexual violence are sidelined & treated as a “natural” (and thus less awful) consequence of Jews oppressing Palestinians (DARVO)
Palestinian men are subjected to the racism of being treated as rapists by default
Palestinian victims of sexual violence are erased & equated with their abusers; their well-being is further endangered as their perpetrators crimes are softened & denied
rapists in leftist spaces now have a “oh but I couldn’t help it” card in their back pocket they can whip out at any time to dodge responsibility & make leftist spaces even more dangerous for the most vulnerable people there
On top of all of this, you then also have the red yarn “logic” of conspiracism that underlies all of this. Conspiracy theories do not exist in a vacuum; there is an underlying dislogic to them that makes believers in one more likely to believe in another (and another and another). THE best predictor of whether a person will believe a conspiracy theory is that they believe another conspiracy theory.
maybe it’s that this or that is a zionist plot now. but maybe you’ll be more inclined to believe there’s something dangerous about the polio vaccine. to support your fringe position, you need to grab hold of more reasons to bolster your opposition, unspool more red yarn. maybe it causes autism. maybe it makes you gay. nevermind that you just brought polio back too, now you’re trading in bigoted conspiracy narrative about the vaccine.
Maybe it’s not that; maybe it’s something else. But this vacuum of logic demands to be filled, and more often than not it does so by sucking in more and more fringe (and more and more bigoted) conspiracy narratives.
Antisemitism is a backwards logic, a conclusion in search of a reason, that builds itself to accommodate the desire to harm Jews. And as those pathways are built, they are used for a dual purpose to hurt other groups too. They spread out further and further and get used to pop up wherever the illogic of bigotry demands to.
You see this web of dislogic being constructed in the above examples—a sort of impromptu network of tunnels and jerry-rigged offramps that let them go offroading when the normal freeways of logic don’t take them where they want to go. You want to believe Shaq is shifty or the 🟦 is a (((Zionist))) plot? Time to build the path that will get you there. You want to believe October 7th was justified, but it fundamentally opposes every one of your stated values; time to build a new way in.
The main target is still Jews, but the rest of you get the splash damage.
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fix it-a.hotchner
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/84895dd36b7bdaee29ca32e6af94e163/d474076bb9155cae-ca/s540x810/6bb3a1ecbc860dc8f4c861f1cf41455e584be54f.jpg)
a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)
please don't read if you have emetophobia!!!!
summary: aaron says some horrible things, can he fix it?
pairing: husband! aaron hotchner x wife! reader
warnings: mad angst, aaron is so mean, reader believes she is a bad mother, heartbreak, feelings of disappointment, jack is so sweet, reader is pregnant, talks of pregnancy, talks of vomiting and morning sickness, no happy ending :(
part 2- fix it together
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/cf860f8e9c80b37919b401a5f67f375c/d474076bb9155cae-4b/s540x810/0c4237b8756e61ceba79e1504a15862400c5c6bf.jpg)
It was all coming down to this. It was Jack’s birthday and as his step-mom, you had been party planning all week. He was having a dinosaur themed birthday with a bounce house and watching a movie in the backyard, like a little drive in movie. You were excited for him. Aaron hadn’t really been around much that week, he was busy dealing with some legal battle the FBI was up against, meaning the rest of the team, including yourself, had the week off. It was Friday night, Jack’s actual birthday and he was asleep in bed as you waited for Aaron to get home. You were reading a book Spencer had recommended you as you nursed a cup of tea, getting sleepier by the second.
The front door opened and there Aaron stood, briefcase in hand, handsome as ever. You smiled and got up from your spot on the couch, ready to greet him. He smiled softly as you hugged him, running a hand through his hair. “How did it go?” you asked, your voice just above a whisper.
“Oh it was fine, nothing too jarring. How was the week?” He asked, walking further into the house.
“Fine. Nothing to report. Jack’s asleep but-”
“Did you do something for his birthday?” He asked, cutting you off.
“Yeah, of course. I picked him up from school early and we went for lunch and to a film. He really enjoyed himself,” you smiled and he sighed. “Is everything ok?”
“Yeah, fine,” Passive aggressive. Aaron was being passive aggressive.
“Aaron,” You said, worry coating your words. “Is everything ok?”
“Yes! Everything is just fine,” He sighed again, sitting on the couch. “Just one thing though- you didn’t think to offer him to see his mom?” He asked, malice behind every word. The accusation cut you deeply. Of course you’d asked, but he’d said no. He said ‘I don’t want to go without dad’ because of course he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to go to his moms grave without his dad, and not on his birthday either. You stood there, stunned at his words. He continued. “Y’know, you promised me this wouldn’t be an issue, so tell me now, is this an issue Y/N? I need to know because we can still get an annulment.”
You gasped at his words. “Aaron stop-”
“No, you stop. You are not his mother. She is. She still is, even if she’s gone. You’ll never be his mother. You’re doing a good job of parenting but nothing compares to Haley. Thank god you’re not his actual mother.”
That was venomous. He was going straight for every insecurity you had around your relationship with Jack and throwing it in your face. He was hurting you.
The silence was heavy. Aaron finally looked at your face and saw the disgust written all over it. The worst part was the fact that he knew it wasn't disgust at his actions, it was disgust directed at yourself and your parenting. You loved and adored Jack, he knew that. He knew, though he’d never admit it, that Jack liked you more than him, or maybe it was just his insecurity speaking, he wasn’t sure. He knew you gave everything of yourself to the both of them. And he knew he’d just done irreversible damage.
“I offered,” you muttered, your eyes trained on the floor as you wrapped your arms around your chest, pleading with yourself to not cry. You felt silly, standing there, in his hoodie, his home, and seeing his child as your own. “He said he wanted to wait for you. I said we’d go on Sunday.”
Aaron’s stomach dropped at the tone of your voice and the words being spoken. He was making you cry. He was hurting you. And all you’d ever been to him was perfectly kind. You’d always been so supportive, so loving, and so caring. As he came in he saw a love note on the fridge, he’d seen one of his favourite chocolate bars on the counter with a note beside it, a little wrapped gift beside it too. There were multiple reminders on the fridge for yourself, ones telling you to pick up things for the party, pick up Jack’s big birthday gift (a new bike), and call Jessica. You cared so much about the both of them, and he’d just said some of the worst things he could’ve, just because he was stressed.
Imagine how stressed you were, planning an entire party on your own while simultaneously working through hours and hours of paperwork (courtesy of your job, you were still working from home even if you weren't technically working), and parenting all week, all alone.
“There’s dinner in the fridge, I-I’m going to go to bed,” you mumbled, walking about and leaving him alone with his thoughts. He heard your footsteps retract, walking up the stairs and in the opposite direction of your shared bedroom. Shit. You were sleeping in the guest room.
He got up, irritation and shame barely allowing him to get to the kitchen to eat the meal you’d made him. Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he have just listened to you?
He sat alone eating, his eyes drifting to the gift on the counter the entire time. I don’t deserve it. He thought, but caved once he finished his food and cleaned up. He pulled the small bow off and unwrapped the colourful paper to reveal a positive pregnancy test. His heart broke again. Inside beside it was a note, in your beautiful handwriting.
To my dearest Aaron,
I wanted to tell you the second I found out but I also didn’t want you to come home too early when you were still needed in Washington. We’re pregnant! I’m so excited and nervous and happy and scared all at the same time. I didn’t want to upstage Jack’s birthday but I obviously needed to tell you :)
I love you so much and I can’t wait for this next chapter! No more guest bedroom I guess :)
P.s I’m almost sure Jack knows, I’ve been having horrible morning sickness :( but at least this fulfils his christmas wish last year, remember ?
Anyways, I love you so much and I’m so excited.
Your love, Y/N
Xxxx
He felt sick to his stomach. You were pregnant. He’d just been evilly cruel to you and you were pregnant. He’d said some of the most vile things on planet earth to you, he essentially called you a bad mother. And you were pregnant. He hadn’t even realised he was crying until he saw the splotches on the paper, ruining one of the cute doodles you’d done. He immediately put it down, not wanting to damage it further.
He took a deep breath, then went into his study and allowed himself to cry. He’d been mean. He’d hurt you in the one way he promised he wouldn’t, all because he was overwhelmed. All because he was stressed.
“Dad?” He heard Jack’s voice and straightened. He wiped his face. “Why are you upset?” Jack walked into his office, pyjamas and a teddy in hand.
“I did something mean to mom,” he admitted. “And I hurt her by accident,” he wasn’t sure if it was by accident. He was sure some deep part of him just wanted to self-sabotage himself. “And I feel bad about it.”
“It’ll be ok. Mom’s been sick this week, maybe you have the same tummy ache and it’s making you mad?” He suggested and Aaron let out a pathetic chuckle.
“Maybe bud, maybe,” he agreed. “How about we get you back to bed, huh?”
“Can I say goodnight to mom again?” He asked and Aaron’s heart broke again. He lifted him up and nodded, walking them down the hall. “You go into her and I’ll get your bed ready, yeah?”
“OK dad!” Jack exclaimed as he was let down to the ground, and went running off to your shared bedroom. Aaron shook his head.
“She’s in the other bedroom,” he pushed down another wave of tears at Jack’s confused face.
“Why?” He asked, confused.
“I was really mean,” Aaron sniffled. “Say goodnight from me too?”
“Ok dad,” Jack said, walking into the guest room.
Aaron heard your voice, wishing Jack good dreams. You’d been crying.
He was the worst person in the world.
Jack came into his bedroom a few minutes later. “Mom’s still sick, she said goodnight and to tell you that she loves you.”
Aaron almost started crying again. You were so caring. You always put him above yourself. “Thanks buddy.”
Aaron tucked him in and closed his door over, wishing him a good night. The tears came shortly after. He tried to sleep in your shared bed, but it wasn’t right. You weren’t there.
Sleep evaded him that night.
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The next morning, the morning sickness hit you like a truck. You had your head in the toilet for an hour, at least. You didn’t come out of the guest room until about 9am. You could hear the usual sounds of Jack and Aaron playing outside, probably soccer. You walked downstairs and got yourself a glass of water, the only thing you could actually stomach at the minute. You looked out the window that led to your garden and smiled when you saw your boys playing, then the nagging voice that you thought you’d gotten rid of all but screamed in your ear You’re such a terrible parent. Aaron’s just been trying to conserve your feelings this entire time. Jack probably hates you. You shouldn’t be having another child.
You looked away. Focus on the party. You told yourself. Get through today.
You had a long list of things that needed doing before the party at 3. You had to pick up balloons, pick up the cake, pick up Jessica and her kids, pick up Sean from the airport (as a surprise for Aaron and Jack), and set everything up. You left a small note on the table explaining where you were, and left. You ran all your errands, leaving picking up Jessica, the kids, and Sean till last. When you walked back in, the house was set up and Jack was immediately excitedly by Jessica, his cousins, and Sean which gave you a moment to slip away from Aaron.
Soon enough, the party started and you were bombarded with around forty children and a party to have. You felt Aaron's eyes on you constantly, checking in on you or just watching you. Once the outdoor film started, Penelope, Emily, Jj, and Spencer came over to ask what was wrong with you and Aaron, saying it was strange to not see you all over each other. You told them about the fight (not the pregnancy) and they were shocked at his behaviour. How could he be so mean? How could he treat you like that?
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Aaron had been trying to talk to you for hours. Whenever he tried, a kid or one of the team would stop him with a dumb question, or needing help. You had Emily, Penelope, Jj, and Spencer crowding you the entire night, sending him the dirtiest of looks. That’s how he ended up at the end of the garden with David and Derek, who were both giving him a lecture about how what he’d done was wrong.
“You can't say anyone is a bad parent!” Derek stressed. “That’s a very clear no-go!”
“I’m aware,” Aaron said, his lips tight in a frown. “I know what I did was wrong.”
“Then why aren’t you apologising?!” Derek exclaimed, loud enough that a few kids turned around to shush him.
“Because,” Aaron sighed. “Those four haven’t left her side in hours.”
As the movie came to a close and the children left, you were left with just the team and family.
You all sat down to dinner, chinese takeout- Jack’s favourite. There was laughter and true joy, especially at David’s insistence that he could make the meal much better than Jack's favourite take-out, considering he was a ‘chef’.
You all sat down to watch Jack open his gifts, individually thanking each person who gave him something. He was especially taken by the gift Spencer got him, a book on dinosaurs, and he adored the bike. You’d gotten one that you'd made look similar to Sean’s motorbike, Jack was always obsessed with Sean's motorbike. You’d even drawn on specific details that made it even more unique. Everyone eventually trailed out and it was just you, Jack, Sean, and Aaron. Jack asked Sean to read his bedtime story. That meant you and Aaron were left to clean up together. You got up to start picking up plates but Aaron stopped you.
“Can I?” He offered and you nodded, sitting on the couch. You hadn’t eaten at dinner, all food just meant more vomiting in the morning and you were not up for that. “Can we talk?” He asked.
“About what?” You sighed, looking over at him. “I think we’ve both said enough.”
“I’m so sorry about last night,” he sighed, coming over to you and sitting beside you. “I was awful. I was disgustingly mean just because I was overwhelmed. You’re an amazing mother to Jack, while you’re not his biological mother, you love him as such and he loves you. You’re a great parent. I was just being reactive and mean. I was so cruel and I'm sorry. I don’t want an annulment. I want to be with you forever. I know that it isn’t a problem. I know how much you love Jack and me,” he chuckled humorlessly. “I know how little I deserve it.”
You took his hand. “What you said… it was probably my worst nightmare,” you chuckled flatly. “And what you said was pretty damaging, Aaron. I just… it completely restarted the voice in my head that says I’m a terrible parent. It made me scared to think about what’s going to happen when we have our baby. I was already terrified about being pregnant, and this was just…” you trailed off as Aaron’s heart broke. Your voice was raw with emotion. You were so hurt.
“I will spend the rest of my life proving to you that you are the best mother our children could ever have,” he promised and you smiled, but it lacked the regular spark your smiles usually contained.
“The best mother Jack could have is Haley. We both know that.”
Fuck. Now you were comparing yourself to Haley again. Aaron had quite literally set you back about 4 years in your confidence as Jack’s mother. “Honey-”
“I know it sounds bad, but we both know it’s true. I’m good, but as you said, I’m nothing compared to Haley. Which is fine Aaron. I understand my place.”
His heart broke for what felt like the millionth time. He’d hurt you so badly. “Honey please, I was stressed and overwhelmed and I took it out on you. I meant nothing I said. You’re the best mother to Jack and our unborn child. You are the love of my life-”
“I’m the second love of your life,” you smiled sadly at him. “I’m going to bed, goodnight Aaron.”
You walked up the stairs with a heavy heart. No matter what he said, you’ll always remember the look on his face when he told you that you weren’t enough, that you weren't Haley.
You fell asleep on your side of the bed, since you couldn’t exactly sleep in the guest room when Sean was in there.
Aaron leaned against the counter as he washed dishes, thinking about how he could fix this.
Could he even fix this?
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criminal minds masterlist
#criminal minds#criminal minds imagine#bau team#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner angst#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch hotchner#hotch
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Agnes O'Connor x Fem!Reader: Beginning & End
Summary: Taking a late drive to get your mind off a few things, you get more than you bargained for from a not-so-routine traffic stop.
AO3
A/N: Wasn't sure how to tag this since Agnes is technically an Agatha... variant? persona? Also I didn't tag the Agatha taglist since this isn't technically Agatha? tricky tricky... This is basically just pure smut with a sprinkle of plot.. enjoy xoxo (also let me know if you want more of Agnes?)
Words: 6.2k
Included: Established relationship, Jealousy, Smut; choking, spitting, bdsm, possession, semi-public sex, car sex, fingering, cunnilingus, daddy kink, roleplaying, power dynamics, dom/sub, teasing, begging
Tag List: @escapetodreamworld @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @multifandomfix
You sigh as you lean into the leather seat. The music is loud enough to hurt, but you don’t turn the volume down, glad of the noise even if you don’t feel like singing along. Trees fly by outside the window as you drive.
A sign passes in a flash but you catch the number; 45. Your speedometer reads 55.
Making sure you’re alone on the road, you push it to 57 just for kicks. Even as the dark scenes on either side pass in a blur, the road ahead is clear. The moon hangs low and bright above, reflecting off the filled-in parts of the pavement.
The song changes and you sigh again upon hearing the familiar tune. It only reminds you of your wife; who should be home and in bed with you, but ended up on night-shift instead after hassling a suspect a bit too hard, canceling your planned evening.
Which leads you to driving the backroads between Westview and Eastview, hoping the journey will tire you out enough that you can sleep. Instead it lands you in the position of blowing past a hidden cop.
Just your luck.
You groan as you turn the music down and pull off the road into a flat area of grass. With the lights, you can’t tell if it's a Westview or Eastview officer at first. You have pretty good chances of getting off with a warning if it's one of Agnes’ coworkers.
But it’s not one of the regular officers. It’s the Chief’s car. You hit your head against the steering wheel. He’s been riding Agnes’ ass for months and will likely give you a hefty ticket just to spite her.
While you’re hitting your head against the wheel, there’s a knock on your window. You roll it down without looking, “Look, Chief, I know the deal. You can just write me a ticket and I’ll pay it tomorrow.”
“Oh, will you now?”
You pause.
Looking up in disbelief, “Agnes?”
“That’s Detective O’Connor to you.” Her face doesn’t change from the stern facade, “You were driving pretty recklessly back there. Have you been drinking tonight, ma’am?”
Subtly as you can manage, you check your side mirror to see if anyone else sits in the police cruiser. It wouldn’t be unlike the Chief to put Agnes through some insane test. No shadows lurk in the other car.
You drag your eyes back to Agnes. She’s waiting, still just as stoic, but you see the mischief in her eyes. Well, if she wants to play, why not up the stakes?
Tilting your head and smiling, “Of course not, detective. I’ve been a good girl.”
A split-second pause tells you she wasn’t expecting that. She licks her lips before the act slips back into place. She scoffs.
“That’s what they all say. Wait here.” Her hand pats the open window before she’s heading back toward the cruiser.
You watch her walk away in the side mirror with a grin. Her confident gait stirs something in you, always has.
For a split second you consider throwing the car in drive and peeling out of here. You’re curious to see what Agnes would do. You hope she’d chase you all the way home; that way when you get there you could finally have a taste of what tonight was meant to be.
You want Agnes painfully. Between work deadlines on your end and long hours on hers, you’ve been too tired to do more than cuddle, or some heavy kissing on a better day. You miss the connection that comes from baring yourselves to one another. And the orgasms, too, of course.
Agnes is back at your window, breathalyzer in hand. You make a split second decision.
“Please, detective, I can’t afford another ticket, and my wife will be so mad.” You plead, using that innocent, wide-eyed expression you know turns her on, “Is there anything I can do to… pay it off, per se?”
To her credit, she doesn’t crack this time, “Are you soliciting an officer of the law, ma’am?”
“No, of course not! Unless that’s what you want.”
“Step out of the car.”
The commanding note in her voice goes straight between your thighs. You open the door and step out, watching her brows raise at only the long nightgown you’re wearing. There’s a chill in the air that makes you shiver. Her eyes are drawn to your chest before she shakes away whatever is going through her mind.
While you’re enjoying the game, you do hope she’ll let you get back in the car soon. The cold is unmanageable without more substantial clothing.
Agnes holds up the breathalyzer, “Open your mouth.”
You do so without thinking. A blush races up your face. Agnes can’t help but smirk.
It’s not the breathalyzer that finds itself between your lips, but two fingers that settle on your tongue and press. You jolt at the pressure. Tears come to your eyes as you gag, but the weight of her fingers doesn’t ebb. You fight against your gag reflex to curl your tongue around the digits.
Closing your lips around them, you swirl your tongue like one would around a piece of candy. Even through blurred vision you can see how Agnes’ eyes darken. She leans forward, staring at your lips.
Her fingers move deeper, pressing harder, fucking your throat. You swallow around them.
You find your mouth and throat empty as Agnes pulls out. Her hand grabs your face before you can close your mouth and holds it open, fingers wet against your cheek. She grins meanly.
“Stick out your tongue.”
The second you do, Agnes spits in your mouth. You whimper. It’s humiliating and you feel yourself clench around nothing. You leave your tongue in the position she demanded, obedient as ever.
Agnes laughs, “Swallow.”
Humiliation, in combination with your startling need for her touch, forces the tears to spill over and down your cheeks. The sight of them seems to please her. She’s always loved seeing you thoroughly debased; loves knowing only she can break you down like this.
Partners in the past did try. Yet they would hesitate, hold back, believing they knew the limits of your desire instead of trusting you. A few would panic when they saw tears in your eyes and pull out of the scene completely. You often found yourself pretending; toning down your desires to ‘acceptable’ levels and leaving yourself unsatisfied to avoid that worried look in your partner’s eyes.
But you’ve never had to pretend with Agnes. From that first time, she went as far as she wanted, knowing that you were an adult capable of safe-wording if it was too much; it wasn’t. You had been dripping and needy the entire time. You had cried while she sat back and watched you polish her boots with your tongue, and had nearly come undone from the act alone. It was everything you craved—Agnes was everything you craved; trusting, dominating, cruel when it suited, and the most loving partner you’ve ever known.
You had vowed then and there that you weren’t letting her get away. And how lucky for you that she put a ring on your finger; the ring that is so much more than a symbol of love; but a brand, too, just as you desire.
“I wonder what your wife would think of you offering yourself up to me,” Agnes muses, “but you’re so eager for it, I can’t help but wonder if she’s not satisfying you properly.”
“Only you can satisfy me, detective.” You flutter your lashes.
That draws a real laugh from her. Something inside you preens. You lean forward into Agnes’ space, angling your head for a kiss, but she pulls back.
“Be that as it may, soliciting an officer is a crime, as is reckless driving.” Her hands reach for her belt, where her handcuffs rest in one of the holsters, “I’m going to have to take you in.”
Though the idea of being cuffed and fucked however she pleases excites you, you’re not entirely pleased with how your original plan was ruined. Agnes knew where the line was during interrogations and she crossed it. Knowingly. It’s safe to say you’re a little pissed she acted out.
A mean-spirited voice in your head considers pushing Agnes away entirely, leaving her wet and turned on for the rest of the night shift while you go home and find solace in your favorite toy. The rational part of you knows that no toy can replace your wife, and it’s her you want. You’re just not going to make it easy for her.
You fall to your knees before she can work the cuffs off her belt. She jolts at the unexpected change. You slam against the ground pretty hard and wince, but don’t dare stop.
Your hands find her belt buckle. Deftly, you start to undo it, “Please, I can make you feel good. I’ll do anything.”
Agnes raises her brows. She doesn’t stop you from undoing her belt or slowly lowering the zipper of her pants. There’s a tenseness in her jaw as she thinks over the request. Intent on sealing the deal, you move your hands from the front of her pants; instead leaning forward to place a kiss where they’d just been.
Looking up through your lashes, you beg, “Please.”
“Well, since you’re so eager for it.”
Ignoring the screaming in your knees, you shoot to your feet, capturing Agnes’ lips in a hard kiss. You attack with lips and teeth and tongue. At the same time, you slip your hand inside her pants and past the waistband of her panties.
She groans against your lips when your fingers play in her wetness. Your fingers ghost over her clit and you grin into the kiss. Two hands settle on your hips and shove, your back hitting the side of your car; it hurts for a moment before you’re once again lost in the feel of your wife, how she’s using her position to grind against your hand, the obscene noises leaving her throat.
Your clit throbs with every roll of her hips. It’s intoxicating that she’s just taking what she wants, using you as a toy to achieve her own pleasure. But the desire between your own legs reminds you of the end goal.
Agnes’ hips pick up speed, her usual low groans evolving into panting, high-pitched whimpers. She’s so close. You consider letting her have what she wants.
Moments before she can fall over the edge you pull your hand from her pants. Hands settling on her chest, you shove her back. She jolts and stumbles. Her fucked-out expression from seconds earlier shifts to confusion, then anger.
“What the fuck?” Agnes snarls.
“You’ve been bad, detective.” Still leaning against the car, you cross your arms over your chest, “Or should I say Daddy.”
Agnes stands straighter. There’s steel in her spine now, jaw taught as darkness comes over her expression. Amusement alights inside your chest.
Her hands begin to unravel the belt from the loops of her pants, “I’m going to paint your backside blue.”
“I don’t think so.” Your voice is hard. “You see, I had a lovely evening planned for us. Dinner, a movie, clean sheets for us to spend all night ruining. And we didn’t get to enjoy any of it because someone couldn’t control her temper. So you, daddy, are going to fuck me until I decide I’m ready to forgive you.”
“It’s cute that you think you’re in control, baby.”
Agnes steps into your space, belt in her hands. You stop her with a hand on her chest before she can get close enough to do anything.
“I am in control.”
“Those with the upper hand don’t usually have to state the fact.”
You tilt your head, “If you don’t give me what I want, you’re not going to touch me for weeks. I’ll fuck myself and all you’ll be able to do is watch. And I’ll stuff all the pairs of panties I ruin into your bag, your pockets… everywhere you go, you’ll be reminded of just what you’re missing.”
The smug expression slowly slips from her face. She tries to push forward again, but you’re unyielding; clenching your fist in the fabric of her shirt until she feels the subtle bite of your nails. There’s fury and a small trace of fear in her eyes.
It’s rare that you have the upper hand. Usually Agnes is twelve steps ahead of everyone—you included. But this time she miscalculated, and she’s going to pay for it.
“Your choice, daddy.”
She scoffs. Shaking her head, a few pieces of her hair free themselves from her low ponytail. They lay in and over her face before she blows them out of the way carelessly. She hasn’t been taking care of it, you can tell; and briefly, you consider if you can get away with commandeering her into taking better care of herself.
You likely shouldn’t push your luck. Agnes is going to punish you enough for this stunt, you’re sure.
The belt is tossed onto the ground a few feet away in a silent show of surrender. Her eyes are dark, churning with a mixture of fury and arousal. A brief moment passes where you wonder if you’re taking this a bit too far, but you shove it down; Agnes is an adult just as you are and will tell you if you cross any hard lines.
“Is the heat on in the cruiser?” You ask.
She pauses, taken-aback, “Yeah, of course.”
“Good. You’re going to fuck me in it later. But first—”
You open the back door of your own car as wide as it can go, just so you can perch on the seat with your feet still outside. With a smile, you open your legs wide. You hadn’t considered this outcome when you left the house for your drive, so your panties are relatively plain, but it doesn’t matter since they’re soaked through.
Agnes takes a step forward and you hold up a finger. She pauses. You point at the ground.
Her face goes red, “Not fucking likely.”
And then she’s on you. She’s holding herself up with one hand on the seat, the other dragging your face to hers. Her body rests perfectly between your legs. With a low moan, you roll your hips against her front.
Her grip on your face is painful. Thank god her nails are clipped short.
Agnes pulls away from your mouth to bite and suck at your throat. You throw your head back, still grinding up against her, moaning with abandon. The friction is nice but it isn’t what you wanted.
“I want you to eat me out.” You force out.
“I don’t care what you want.” Agnes growls.
“Oh? Well, I guess I should be prepared to handle my own orgasms for a while, then.”
As you say that, you stop grinding, and lay fully against the seat, one of your arms snaking its way down your front and between your thighs. You’ve only circled a finger around your clit twice before her hand catches your wrist in a punishing grip.
“Try it and I’ll tie you to the bed everyday when I go to work.”
“I made my terms abundantly clear.”
“You know what you forgot though, brat?” Agnes taunts, lips right next to your ear, “You’re too greedy to settle for your hand or your little toys. It’s only a matter of time before you get bored and come crawling back to me.”
“Maybe I’ll just crawl to someone else. Agent Vidal has been hanging around.”
A hand closes around your throat and you whine. She squeezes, your vision going fuzzy around the edges. You roll your hips.
“I’ll lock you in the house if you even think about it.” Her voice is hard, promising, “You’re mine, baby.”
“Prove it.”
That’s the wrong thing to say.
Agnes pulls back completely. Her hands leave you, the pressure of her body is gone. You look up and she’s standing just far enough away that you can’t touch her. You growl.
The look on her face is one you’ve seen a dozen times; the very same one she wears when you’re about to endure something you don’t like. But you vow not to let her have the upper hand. Not this time. This time, you’re going to make her bend.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” She says.
The words are like a bucket of cold water over your head. You don’t spend long dwelling on the threat, there’s no time.
Agnes is halfway back to the police cruiser when you worm your hand into your panties and bury two fingers inside without preamble. Despite being the source of your own pleasure, you jolt, back bowing off the seat. The moan that leaves your lips is exaggerated; pornographic.
“Oh, yes!”
You hear her footsteps come to a stop. You don’t dare open your eyes, not yet. The pleasure you’re experiencing is real, even if it is half of what it could be with Agnes’ help, but you have to keep up the act—have to make her jealous of your own fingers.
Though she hates to admit it, Agnes is jealous in all aspects of life. There’s a bit of healthy competitiveness worked in there that you can admire. Yet some days… some days she comes home fighting mad, hair a mess and muscles clenched tight as she recounts the events that made her that way. And lately they’ve all had the same person involved—
Agent Rio Vidal.
A loaner agent from the FBI, here to figure out some of the more poignant details of a murder on the Westview-Eastview county line. She’s confident and cutting and painfully attractive. Somehow, she knows how to push every single one of Agnes’ buttons, in work and play.
You’ve only met her twice and each time Agnes was an animal afterward. The appreciative glances and suggestive words made you blush—and though you won’t admit it, turned you on a good bit—while Agnes could barely hold herself back from attacking the woman. So possessive. So jealous.
You can use that.
The door on the other car hasn’t opened and you know she’s watching with rapt attention. You put on a good show, rolling your hips into your one hand while pinching at your chest with the other. You could get off on her watching.
Another exaggerated, high-pitched moan, “Oh, Agent Vidal!”
Though the woman is attractive, you can’t imagine anyone but your wife. Agnes doesn’t need to know that.
Strong hands grab your calves and pull you half-way out of the car. You squeak, eyes snapping open. Agnes looms above you and oh fuck you’re in trouble.
“You little bitch.” She snarls, hand coming to wrap around your throat.
You try to moan but she doesn’t give you that much air. Another deft hand rips your own from your panties, even going so far as to rip the fabric off completely. There’s the ghost of her fingers above your center. You roll your hips.
The sensation of loss and blurry edges is usually a huge turn-on; maybe it’s the intense change from oxygen to no oxygen, but you’re struggling more than normal. You tap her wrist three times.
Agnes pulls away completely. Her hand is off your neck, the other gone from between your thighs. You take in large lungfuls of air and feel your heart-rate slow just a little. A little whine works its way from your throat, though it’s mainly a result of the throbbing between your legs that’s still driving you crazy.
Your wife’s hands hover over you, eyes concerned, “Honey?”
“I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.” You assure, sitting up and kissing one of her palms, “The quick change just… startled me. I’m okay.”
“Should I… Do you need me to take you home?”
“Oh no, Agnes O’Connor, you’re going to finish what you started.” Spreading your legs offers an obscene picture of just how soaked you are, made even more tantalizing by the ripped panties clinging to your thigh, “Unless you want me to find someone else who can finish the job.”
It’s like flipping a switch.
Overwhelming is a word that could be used to describe Agnes in bed—smothering, even. She has a way of overtaking every single one of your senses at once. Your skin is on fire with her touch, with the faint strands of hair tickling your face. The scent of burnt break-room coffee clings to her jacket. You even taste it when her tongue invades your mouth, moaning obscenely against your lips.
You like being smothered, though. You crave it; aching for anything that will let you turn your mind off and just feel.
Agnes pulls back. Her breath is hot against your lips, “You’re such a brat.”
“Only for you, daddy.” You murmur.
A shudder passes through her at the name. Her grip tightens on you, near bruising. You moan.
“Where do you want me?”
“With your mouth between my legs.”
“Fingers?”
“Yes, please.”
Agnes chuckles, “So you do remember your manners. Interesting.”
You roll your eyes. To your luck, Agnes doesn’t see—if she had, you would have been punished accordingly. Though you realize things are a bit off-balance with your threat hanging in the air; any other time, Agnes would have you bent anyway she pleased, taking all she wanted until you couldn’t handle any more.
Being in control is… odd. Not unwanted, but odd. You have to be more aware of yourself, confident in every command that leaves your lips. You’re glad that this is Agnes’ preferred role even if you’re enjoying the change.
Lips kiss the inside of your thighs and you shudder. When she sinks her teeth in, you squeal, jolting at the change. Your hand falls to the top of her head.
“Not what I meant!”
“Oh, then what did you mean?” She taunts.
“If you don’t make me come right now so help me—”
The heat of her mouth on you is enough to shut you up. Her tongue drags up your slit with agonizing slowness. She teases at your clit for only a moment before repeating the slow drag, making you whine, pressing her head closer.
You feel the rumble of her laughter and god help you the vibrations feel amazing. Yet when you try to move your hips for more, her hands keep them pressed firmly to the leather seat.
Another threat sits on your lips that never comes to pass. With the last slow lick, she fastens her lips around your clit and sucks, hard. It’s painful and wonderful and your back bows off the seat, hands scrambling for anything to clench into. The weeks have been long and you know you’re not going to last.
“I’m going to come.” You force out.
She laughs again. That, in combination with her attention focused solely on your clit, sends you straight over the edge. You feel wild, unhinged as your hips move without any guidance from your mind, chasing the waves of pleasure that make your every muscle go taut.
But when the pleasure subsides, Agnes doesn’t stop. She pushes two fingers inside and curls them in that way you like so much. You clench around them, though you ache, not ready for more so soon.
“I can’t—Please, I can’t.” You beg.
“One more, baby. You can give me that, can’t you?”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
And you do. Her fingers know every inch of you well, her mind cataloging every spot that makes you whine, every move she performs that sends you over the edge. She calls on that knowledge as the pads of her fingers rub against that spot inside you with abandon until you can’t breathe, shrieking and moaning loud enough that you worry someone will hear you miles away.
The pleasure tenses your body so tight that you worry the muscles will never relax again. It hurts in that delicious way only Agnes can bring out.
When you do relax, she’s licking gently at you, collecting the flavor on her tongue and savoring it like a fine wine. You twitch. The hand you have in her hair pushes as you attempt to slide further onto the seat, away from her mouth.
“No more,” you beg, “please.”
“Am I forgiven?”
You laugh, breathless, “Not quite.”
You tug her up wordlessly until the weight of her is draped over you. It’s nice, comforting to feel her close. Her warmth helps fight against the cold biting at your lower half. Sighing, you bury your face in her neck, your hand coming up to lazily play with her hair.
Agnes accepts the touch. She traces little patterns on your hip over the nightgown, soft and quiet. You can still see the red and blue lights from your hiding place in her neck.
“Why do you have the Chief’s car?” You ask.
She scoffs, “Mine broke down three hours into the shift. Had to call the Chief and walk all the way to his house to get the cruiser.”
“What? Agnes, why didn’t you call me?”
“I wanted you to enjoy your night in, honey.”
You think about arguing, but you recognize the exhaustion in her voice, and decide not to push it—for now. It’s an argument you can save for later.
“So what was it, the battery? I thought we just replaced it.”
“I think the old girl might just be done for. We’ve had her for a while.” Agnes shrugs.
“But that’s… we brought Nicky home in that car.” You whisper, chest aching.
Another piece of your life—connected to your baby—that you won’t get to keep. Agnes tenses, her breathing growing ragged, and you feel terrible; she’s likely already thought about this the whole shift, spent all these hours remembering it alone. That’s why she didn’t call you—she didn’t want to drag you bag into the deep end of the pain, too.
You press a gentle kiss to the side of her neck. No wonder she took the first opportunity to play with you, she needed the distraction.
“I’m sorry, my love.” You murmur.
“Not your fault, honey. These things happen.”
She sounds less and less like herself with every moment. You don’t want to shove the grief aside—the grief counselor said that only made things worse—but this isn’t how you want to handle it; Agnes draped over your freshly-debauched form in the backseat of your car.
This is a conversation, a breakdown for home, where the two of you can take all the time you need to soak in the new loss. You need to distract her away from this.
“Will the force offer you one of their vehicles?”
“Yeah. They should.”
“Where did you break down?”
“By the bridge on Old Forest.”
Perfect.
“Let’s give her a proper sendoff, then.”
Agnes pauses. The look she gives you is questioning, as if not quite believing your suggestion, but she knows better—knows you’re serious about this.
“Alright.”
Which is how you find yourself halfway across town, on a back road with no streetlights, pulling off perilously close to a ditch. Agnes' car is unmistakable even in the dark—from the extra mirror on the hood reflecting the moonlight to the dent in the back bumper she never got fixed. You feel suddenly overwhelmed as you trace your fingers over the body.
So many memories, good and bad. Your late-night trysts in the back seat. Bringing Nicky home. The back seat full of his stinky sports gear. Agnes’ old case files winding up on the floor.
Agnes comes up and drapes her jacket over your shoulders. The warmth of her body has seeped into the cloth, now blocking out the chill in the air, “This might not be the best idea.”
You raise a brow, “Cold feet, detective?”
“Mine are nice and warm. Yours, however...”
She looks up and down your scantily-clad form with a worried furrow of her brow. It’s sweet, but not needed.
“I don’t think our plans will keep me anything but warm.” You smile, leaning back against the car while pulling Agnes close, until every inch of her is pressed against your front. Her hands settle on your hips as she kisses you with a softness belaying the vulnerability she still feels, “Unlock the car.”
“Honey—”
“Agnes, would you rather I went home?” You murmur.
“Of course not.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Beats me.”
“You know what I want?”
Using your leverage against the vehicle, you draw one of your feet up the inside of Agnes’ leg, careful to press every part of yourself against her. Her warmth radiates through her flannel and jeans and you smile.
She raises a brow, “I’m sure I can guess.”
“I want you to bend me over in the backseat of this car like you did that first time. You remember, don’t you? How pissed you were that I’d been teasing you for five dates.” You laugh at the memory, “You couldn’t even make it out of the restaurant parking lot.”
“You were so loud we almost got caught.” She recalls, voice low, gravelly.
“There’s no one around to catch us now.”
Agnes wraps one of her arms around your waist and uses it to tug you sideways, making quick work of unlocking the car. With the hand not on your waist, she opens the back door, and eases her jacket from your shoulders. She lays it out on the cold seats with the warm side up.
Not for the first time, you’re moved by her consideration of your comfort. It would be so easy for a partner to disregard the little things if it meant getting to the end goal faster; but not Agnes. You reward her with a long, slow kiss.
When she pulls away, there’s a fond little smile on her lips. She pats your hip, “On your hands and knees.”
You obey without question. Crawling onto the backseat, you’re reminded of just how confined the space of a car is. You have to keep your head bowed so as not to hit your head on the roof. It’ll be worth your while, but you know the two of you will be feeling the adverse effects of this choice for days.
Agnes follows and shuts the door behind her. She works her way into the backseat until not a bit of space exists between the two of you. Every inch of her front is pressed against you, draped over you like a warm blanket. You push your backside back into her crotch, teasing.
“I should’ve sent you home to get your purple.” You say.
“Be good and you can have my cock later.”
Warm fingertips trail up the back of your thigh until they snake under the hem of your nightgown. The soothing heat of her touch is lovely compared to the bite of the cold air. You lean into it.
“Yes, daddy.” You sigh.
Her body pulls away from yours and you turn, confused. A sharp slap to your backside makes your breath stutter, your core clenching around nothing. Your toes curl.
“Interesting that you want to be good now, when you’ve been testing me all night.”
“What can I say? I’m motivated by rewards.”
You’re satisfied that Agnes seems to be in the moment, rather than locked up in the memories in her head. Intent on keeping it that way, you lean back into her, arching so you can match her entirely. Her muscles go taut and relax and being able to feel it makes you ravenous.
Two fingers push your ripped panties aside and begin to drag up your slit, teasing. It should be noted that you are trying to be good for her, offering the control she takes to so well. You like to think she can tell, too.
When she slips her fingers inside you without torturing you further, you’re sure she knows.
You push back, desperate. You want more of her and bad. It’s as if the orgasms she gave you less than an hour ago never happened. Every muscle in your body quakes with the knowledge of what only Agnes can give you. And you want it so deeply that it threatens to bring tears to your eyes.
“Please.” You beg without prompting, “Please, more.”
A split-second hesitation belays her surprise, but she does slip another finger inside, stretching you even wider. You can’t stop how you move, nor the noises that come out of your mouth. You feel cursed with hunger only she can sate.
It’s this car, this backseat, and the memories here that are driving you so mad. It’s the life attached to it that you never thought you would get; a family, a future, a wife who loves you despite all the ugly parts others had run from. It’s the years you haven’t had to live out alone, the pain you’ve shared. It’s the fact that this act was once a beginning and now it’s an end.
Her lips press against the back of your neck, impossibly gentle, so unlike the role she’s meant to be playing. Something inside you breaks.
“Agnes—“ You choke out.
“It’s okay, honey.”
You let go.
You let go from holding yourself back—fucking yourself on her fingers until you shriek with pleasure. You let go of the ball of emotions in your chest, of hunger and pleasure and guilt. You let go of the pain and let tears spill over onto your cheeks.
It’s not the best orgasm you’ve ever had, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s a goodbye to this piece of your life. It’s an end. And it hurts just the same as it feels good to embrace the potential of something new.
Agnes holds you, steady as ever. You feel the dampness of her own tears on your neck.
You turn and lay on your back, welcoming the weight of her. You use your thumbs to wipe away the tears coming from her beautiful blue eyes.
“Am I forgiven, or do we have to go another round?” She asks.
You grin, not taking your hands from her face, “You’re forgiven, my love.”
“Thank god.”
Agnes drops her head until it rests on your chest. You laugh, extracting the hair tie so you can run your fingers through the length of it. Her arms wrap around you as much as they can.
She presses a kiss to your chest, over where your heart is. You gently work through a knot in between your fingers. The windows are clouded with perspiration. Beads of water reflect what little moonlight peeks through the trees. Moonlight or no, you know every dip and curve of your wife’s form, and could identify every part of her without sight.
The stale coffee smell has worn off, replaced by the faint undertones of the cologne she wears each morning. It’s deep and musky and comforting.
Maybe it’s the weight of her head on your chest in combination with the memories that makes you speak, “Have you ever thought about us trying again?”
She tilts her head so she can look up into your eyes without lifting from her resting place. Her brows are furrowed.
“Trying again?”
The weight of her beautiful eyes on you almost makes you change the subject. These conversations are so much easier without that layer of intimacy. But you’ve started something and you’ll be damned if you don’t finish it.
“To be parents.” You whisper.
“I’m a little past due on that, baby.” Her smile is self-deprecating.
“I’m not.”
“You never wanted to carry. I remember that much.”
“That was then.” You continue smoothing through her hair, “Now… If you want to try again, I’ll do it. I want to do it.”
You can’t decipher the look in her eyes. She doesn’t pull away, but she’s tense.
“We don’t need to decide right now. We have time.”
She nods, “Alright.”
“You’ll still be daddy, even if you aren’t my baby-daddy.”
“That was terrible.”
It doesn’t stop her from grinning, nor does it stop you from laughing. Something in the tension eases. You can’t lean down and kiss her like this, so you press a kiss to the pads of your fingers, and press them to her lips. She nips at them playfully.
The quiet is nice, but you can feel the cold settling into your bones. You need to be back in a heated car before you get sick.
“When is your shift over?”
“In a few hours.”
You nod, figuring out what time she’ll come home and how it fits into your schedule, “I have nothing after work if you want me to make good on those orgasms I owe you.”
“I look forward to it.”
It takes some time, but you and Agnes manage to untangle yourselves and worm your way out of the back seat. She sits, keeping you wrapped in her coat, until the inside of your own car is nice and warm. That earns her a few lingering kisses.
She trails you on the drive home before speeding off to do god knows what during the last few hours of her shift. And when you fall asleep—already feeling sore—an eagerness sets in your chest of what awaits. With an end, a new beginning.
#agatha harkness x reader#agatha harkness#agatha all along#agnes o'connor#agnes o'connor x reader#agatha all along x reader#agatha all along fanfiction#agatha harkness fanfiction#wlw#wlw fanfiction#nov2024#multimilfswritings
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the way i want you.
benedict bridgerton x fem!reader, 1.4k words summary: the reader is one of eloise's closest friends... and madly in love with benedict bridgerton. at a ball, he reveals his true feelings to them. a/n: the only mention of the reader being female is the dress and corset they are wearing. so. if you pretend to not read that, it could be gender neutral. this was an old draft with like two paragraphs that i started looking at. idk why it’s written in lowercase but the vibe is there and i'm not changing it. GIRL I JUST CHECKED AND I STARTED THIS IN APRIL OF 2022. bye. absolutely insane. (thank you past me, i actually really appreciate the inspo)
if there was anything you knew for certain, it was that you were madly in love with your dearest friend’s elder brother.
being near him made your heart thunder against the confines of your chest, threatening to be loud enough for all to hear.
your hands began to tremble, your voice began to waver.
the love you felt for him was so very obvious to everyone, it seemed, save for benedict.
eloise poked fun while penelope scolded her (for she, too, understood what it was like to love a bridgerton who didn't love her back). but deep down, eloise knew you would love her brother like no other. marriage might have been a fine prospect for benedict, but if he were to marry you, he would never wish for someone to love—you would be everything that he would need.
eloise had even quipped a time or two, teasing her brother and goading him into thinking about you. not that she would tell you, of course.
but love was a fickle thing. it worked in the oddest of ways, and quite frankly, it was hard to tell who benedict truly loved, if he loved at all.
he loved himself, and he loved his family. but eloise’s friend? the girl whom was just a few years younger than he, the one he saw blossom into a woman after several years of puberty? how could he possibly love her?
you wished he did. oh, it was a wish you made on the stars above more often than not. at any point in time, when you saw the first stars dot the sky, the wish would leave your lips.
let him love me.
please let him see me.
please let him know.
was it odd? perhaps. but in this world of expensive balls and beautiful debutantes, it didn’t seem too farfetched—especially when you loved someone. it would hurt to see them go off and love another, would it not?
your heart wasn't kind.
time wasn’t kind.
neither was your father or the corset you wore or the ballgown that seemed to itch in every crevice possible.
of course you had to choose the worst dress of all the ones you owned for this accursed ball! a repeat dress, to say the least. someone would snitch—you were sure it would be raved all about in lady whistledown's next pamphlet.
your mother was nowhere to be found while your father mingled with some of his military friends. eloise was hiding somewhere, most likely with penelope or by the buffet, and most of the bridgertons’ that had come to the ball were out in the ballroom floor, including anthony and colin.
but where was benedict?
you wouldn’t ask him to dance, despite your dance card being blank. you just wanted to see him—see his handsome face, his pretty smile.
lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize a man was creeping up behind you until a hand found its way to your back. you nearly dropped your flute of champagne, wide eyed as you looked back at the culprit. champagne splashed by your gown, and you said a silent thank you to whatever the universe had done to prevent your repeat dress being ruined by none other than the very man of your thoughts—benedict bridgerton.
“what on earth are you doing?” you asked, quickly turning to face him.
“just coming to see my sister’s friend,” he said, a cheeky smile playing on his lips. “am i not allowed to come and talk to you anymore, miss y/n?”
your eyes widened a bit. “you—of course you’re allowed. i will not tell you what to do. but to scare me like that? what if i had spilled this on you?"
“oh, i beg your pardon,” he said. “i didn’t know you were so jumpy. had i’d known, perhaps i would’ve tried to actually scare you.”
“you are a fiend, benedict bridgerton.”
he grinned. “and you love me for it, do you not?”
your cheeks burned in embarrassment as you looked away. you cleared your throat, avoiding what you truly wanted to say: yes. “why aren’t you dancing?”
“hm. well, i was, but when mother wasn’t looking, i slipped away.”
“she’ll get onto you.”
“perhaps,” he said, scrunching his nose. “but if i’m talking to you, she will excuse it.”
you rolled your eyes. “and why is that?”
“you’re eloise’s friend. she’ll excuse it.”
you purse your lips. right. just eloise’s friend. you let out a soft sigh and nod, looking out at the ballroom floor. the song was soft and light and the party-goers danced slowly with their partners. it was a sweet song, if you had to admit to anything that night.
you wouldn’t admit your love for benedict. you couldn’t. you wouldn’t. not now, not ever.
something catches benedict’s eye and he would have up and left had he not been thinking. he cleared his throat as he looked down at you.
“come with me,” he said.
eyebrows furrowed, you glanced at him. “what?”
“you heard me,” he said. “come with me.”
you do as you’re told. you follow him, and he leads you in to a hallway. there are a few other patrons, so you are not alone with a man (oh, god, imagine the scandal), but he specifically leads you to a painting in the middle of the hall.
“a painting?” you asked.
“not just any painting,” he said. “look at it. what does it remind you of?”
you shift where you stand, looking up at it. the oil pastels are beautiful, yes, but it’s a simple painting of a beautiful woman. what’s it to remind you of?
“it looks like your sister,” you said.
he snorted softly. “no,” he said. “it’s beautiful, yes, but that’s not what i wanted you to look at.”
he pointed towards the background. just beyond the portrait of the woman lay a field of beautiful flowers, each one meticulously painted by whomever the painter had been. it looked like it must have taken a painstakingly long time to paint each individual one.
“it reminds me of all the time i do not have,” you simply said.
“oh, you are no fun, y/n!” he said. he looked down at you and smiled. “they remind me of you.”
you blinked slowly. “what?”
“beautiful and yet so unattainable, hm?”
you blinked again. “i beg your pardon?”
“look at them,” he said. “each one unique in their own way, each one hand painted by someone with enough gumption to keep on with it. whoever did it wanted their painting to be utterly beautiful and difficult to recreate. all the fine detail makes the painting that much more extraordinary.”
“wait, wait, benedict, unattainable?”
“right. well if i wanted to recreate this, it would take me some time, wouldn’t it?”
“benedict. how would something like that remind you of me?”
he smiled at you for a moment before he softly said: “you’re eloise’s friend. i couldn’t do that to her.”
“do what?”
“have you the way i want you.”
it’s simple—those seven words seemed to change everything, and it was one of the most simple things you had ever heard.
your lips part in mild shock and you took a slight step back, looking at benedict in confusion. “are… are you—“
“yes. i am in earnest, y/n.”
“why did you—“
“not say anything sooner? have you seen how aggravating eloise has been recently? i did not need to fuel her ammunition.”
“since when did—“
“for some time now.”
“will you let me—“
“no, i will not,” he interrupted again.
“i swear to the lord above that i will—“
“no swearing,” he said. “just self expression, hm? like the painting?”
“what? benedict, you’re not making any sense.”
“maybe not.” benedict smiled down at you. “come. we should head back. perhaps fill in your dance card for once.”
you frowned. “what will eloise say?”
“i do not care,” he said. “it seems to me that you care far more than i do. besides, do you not hear how she speaks to me? i think she'd be honored."
he’s right—perhaps he’s yet to say anything because the way his life had been. perhaps he hadn’t said a word because of everything he and eloise had talked about. there was always timing, and sometimes, it was just a bit off.
whatever it may be, he was here, and he was true to himself. he wanted you, and he would have you, heedless of your thoughts and what eloise wanted from either of you.
oh, the scandal, dear reader. but as long as the two of you plan to marry, whatever scandal could there truly be?
#god he's such a cutie#i'm gnawing at my enclosure#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton fanfiction#benedict bridgerton imagine#benedict bridgerton x y/n#violet bridgerton#daphne bridgerton#bridgerton#benedict x reader#bridgerton x reader#reader insert#x reader#female reader#fem!reader#bridgerton x fem!reader
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GOT ME THINKING NONSENSE sim jaeyun ౨ৎ
synopsis! you get paired up with jake, your sweet classmate who’s always willing to help you, but while you’re both working, he seems to be the one needing help. wc! 5.1k cw! porn with barely no plot unprotected sex (wrap it up yall!!), SUB!JAKE, dom!reader obvi, oral (m! receiving), jake is whiny and reader is just a tad bit mean, unexpirienced but not virgin jake, had huge writers block in the beggining pls spare me 😣
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You could still feel the high heat in your body when you were walking away from your and Heeseng’s place. You probably didn’t look the most presentable, cheeks flush, hair a little bit tousled and your clothes were most likely all wrinkled from being messily thrown out. The walk from your apartment to Jake’s wasn’t longer than 10 minutes since he lived quite close. You checked your phone and it had been 6 minutes past the time you had planned with Jake so you tried to walk a little faster, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling between your legs, the aftermath of your and Heeseung’s sins.
You had met Jake during one of the classes you had together when one day you were late and the sit next to him was the only one available. He was the usual classmate who didn’t talk much but still had a good group friend, in which Heeseung was included. You two didn’t talk much unless when you ask him to help you with something and to you it almost looked as if he avoided talking to you. You often noticed how his cheeks warmed up when you talked to him or how his eyes flickered from yours to the environment around him, which you found cute and made you bite back a smirk each time you interacted. You would be lying if you said you didn’t find Jake attractive. His face looked like it could’ve been sculpted by the Gods above, and when he wore his glasses you swore you could drop all the dignity you had left for him.
It wasn’t too long after that you reached Jake’s apartment building. You took your phone out, texting him that you had reached his house. You didn’t have to wait long to see how good Jake looked today. Sporting basic jeans with a striped polo sweater and his usual black specs, he looked better than ever. Before your mind could wander any further, you walked towards the entrance, greeting him with a smile and following him upstairs and inside his apartment. When you first walked in, you noticed right away how neat his place looked, just like him.
“Nice place you got.” You said with a smile, making him look back at you with a surprised expression. “Oh? Thanks, though! I’m not very good at decorating but I tried my best here.” Jake answered with a shy chuckle. “Yeah, I could tell you did.”
He leads you further into the hallway, entering the door to his room. His room was a reflection of himself. Anyone could tell this was his room just from the way it’s organized and coordinated. The books on the shelves were all neatly placed and organised in alphabetic order. His desk was free of clutter and had only the necessary things placed above it, that, if you considered a picture of what you assumed was his dog necessary. Your eyes found Jake’s and you could see him tense up when you did so.
“Shall we get to work then?” You asked with a smile. “Yeah, yes, of course.” He said quickly moving to sit by his desk. You put your things down and sat next to him, your thighs almost touching since the desk was clearly made for only one person to sit there. You pulled out your laptop and opened the document your teacher had sent you with all the instructions.
“I think we could divide the topics for each other and then discuss which information to keep..” Jake suggested, his eyes flickering between the various topics shown on the screen. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea, Jakey.” The nickname slipped faster than you could catch, but you don’t regret it, especially after seeing how Jake’s ears slowly turned red. You bit your bottom lip to prevent the smirk threatening to form.
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You had been working for a little past an hour and you could feel your eyes getting tired from looking at your computer screen for so long. From your peripheral vision, you could see Jake running a hand through his raven hair with a heavy sigh, making your eyes turn to look his way. With your head propped on your hand, you admired as he scrolled through endless reports, trying to find any good content he could for the presentation.
He hadn't noticed your staring, too focused on the screen ahead of him. Your eyes moved down his body. His sleeves had been pulled up a little, just below his elbows, showing off the veins that ran down to his hands. Oh, his hands. Something you always stared at. Anytime you would ask him for help in class you would always get distracted by the hands of the man beside you as he used them to point things out in your textbook. You would almost drool as you stared at his thick fingers, letting your mind wander further than it should.
Obviously, you didn’t keep these things for yourself. This had been a hot topic on your late-night calls with Yunjin, the one you would always run to when you needed feminine advice and didn’t want to hear the constant nagging Jay gave any time you talked about boys. The girl would always laugh at you, mentioning that you must have a thing for nerdy-looking guys or, in her words “pathetic men” (her theory got confirmed when you told her you fucked Heeseung). It wasn’t totally false. It is true that you liked weak men who wouldn’t hesitate to get on their knees for you. Blame you for being tired of guys with big egos who think they’re all that.
Another big sigh, almost groan, snapped you out of your thoughts. You looked at Jake and saw him leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed. “Everything alright?” You asked as you slid your chair closer to his. “Yeah, sorry. Just can’t find any good info for my topics.” He said as he nodded his head towards the screen in front of him. You let out a small sigh as your lips pout with pity, pulling your chair even closer to his. “Don’t be too harsh on yourself, Jakey.” You told him as your hand made its way to his thigh, feeling it tense at the touch. You leaned your body towards his way “You know you can always ask me for help.” our hand moves upwards “Anytime.” You finished with a smile, leaving that last word floating in the air with an uncertain meaning. Jake’s breath got stuck in his throat and he felt the weight of the last word that left your lips. The gears in his head twisted and turned as he tried not to show how the way you were smiling up at him affected him.
You sat back straight in your chair, acting as if you didn’t know what effect you left on him. “Let's ge back to work, yeah?”
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It had been a few hours since you started working. During the whole time you could see Jake squirming in his seat, maybe from the tension in the air, so thick that it could be could with a knife. With a sigh, you closed your laptop with a thud, your hands falling to your lap as you turned to look at Jake who seemed to avoid looking you in the eye.
“I guess this is all for today, Jakey.” You said smiling at him. “We can talk tomorrow in class and choose another day to meet again, maybe at my place next time, yeah?” You asked him as you started getting up from your seat, him doing the same. “Oh yeah, we can do that. I was about to finish this part as well so you’re all free to go.” You nodded at his words, your eyes subtly looking him up and down. His hands twitched in his sides. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
Reaching his door, he opened it to let you out. You looked back at him one last time with a slight smirk. His cheeks warmed up and he swayed in his place, suddenly feeling awkward in the loud silence. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You said, now fully smiling. “See you, y/n.” Jake said not moving from his spot.
You walked away from his door, and as soon as you were out of sight, Jake moved to close the door, resting his back against it as he released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He brought his cold hands to his cheeks, trying to heat them down. He knew working with you wasn’t going to be an easy task.
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This cycle of going back and forth between each other’s houses has been going on for a few weeks now and the project was almost done. The thick tension between you two every time you were together was undeniable and it had Jake feeling tense around you.
Ever since you pulled that thing the first time you went to his house, Jake could seem to fully focus when he was around you, always getting distracted by whatever you did. Even during classes, you seemed to purposely sit next to him, only to spend half of the time subtly touching the side of his leg and moving up to touch his tight. Jake was going crazy from your shenanigans and they were the only thing running through his mind when he laid in bed wide awake, head full of you and his hand running down from his tummy to where his body needed him the most.
It’s not like Jake never had sex or related activities, but he wasn’t the most experienced. He had only had sex with his ex and only serious girlfriend he had and it wasn’t anything too out of this world. He knew you’ve had your fair share of sexual encounters, he knew you had plenty of experience and he knew you were damn good at it because he has heard stories from the men you were with. If you asked him a long time ago, this wouldn’t bother Jake, but now, with all you’ve been doing to him, it makes him feel a bit insecure, because if your teasing escalates further he knows he could never compete with those men. But maybe that’s not what you think.
You were waiting for Jake since he was coming over to finish and wrap up the project. You had spent a good two hours in front of the mirror, trying to make yourself look more presentable for him, something you would never admit to anyone even if they paid you. It wasn’t too late but you could see the sun setting from the view in your window. You were about to check your phone when you heard the doorbell ring, meaning Jake had already arrived.
Walking towards the front door, you checked yourself one last time in the mirror before opening the door. “Hey, Jake! Come on in!” You said stepping aside so he could enter your house. “Hey, um, I brought some snacks, since it’s getting kinda late and I remembered you said you liked these so…” He trailed off, showing you two packs of your favourite snacks, making you surprised he even remembered that. “Oh my god, Jake! You definitely didn’t have to. Thank you, though!” You said smiling at him, his cheeks warming up as usual. “Anyways, let’s get started before it gets too late for you.”
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The project was going smoothly since today you two were only doing the final touches and reviewing the whole thing. The dynamic between you and Jake today felt different. There were more lingering touches coming from him who you would accidentally touch his hand but he wouldn’t move away or flinch like he usually does. You were surprised that he acting this way, but you were definitely not complaining, you like this less conserved side of him.
You tried to focus on the text on your screen, but you couldn't help but let your eyes drift off to where Jake was sitting working on the powerpoint. It’s not like he didn’t look good any other day, but maybe it was the dim warm light in your room or maybe it was the moon shining from your window behind him, you weren’t exactly sure, but something about him today had him look so good and you couldn’t avoid the warm sensation in the bottom of your tummy that made your thighs press together.
Your inner turmoil was interrupted by Jake’s little sigh, making your eyes focus back on him. “I’m finished with this.” he said turning to look at you. “Do you need any help with that or…?” he trailed off. “Oh! Um no, I’m finished as well.” a thought came up to your head. “Can I check the powerpoint?” you asked leaning a little towards him. “Ah, yes, of course.” He answered, adjusting his glasses.
You pushed your chair closer to his, purposely making your thigh touch his. Jake felt his heart race when you got suddenly so close, the scent of your sweet yet intoxicating perfume invading his senses. His eyes drifted from your focused face down to your exposed neck, making him lick his dry lips as if to stop himself from letting his lips fall into its soft skin. He shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts of you out of his mind and maintain his composure.
“Well, this looks pretty good!” you said smiling at him, almost missing the way his eyes quickly fall from your eyes to your lips. “Oh, really? Thank y-” “You did such a good job, Jakey.” You interrupted him, as you let your hand fall on his thigh. His lips opened and closed as he tried to speak but no words came out. “You worked so hard on this.” your hand started moving up and down, making him tense up. “Think you deserve a reward, don’t you?” his eyes doubled in size as you spoke so softly, yet your words were filled with nothing but lust.
“Answer me, Jake.” you said, leaning closer to his face. “I- Yeah, please.” he answered, voice barely above a whisper. Your lips immediately connected to his, making him let out a low moan. His lips felt soft against yours, fitting almost like two pieces of a puzzle connecting. Your hand moved further upwards, now dangerously close to where his bulge was growing. His wands that were awkwardly laid by his side moved to lay on your hips, gripping them when he felt your tongue swiping against his bottom lips. He gave you access and you started exploring his mouth, tongues rubbing against each other, making both of you moan at each other’s tastes.
Kissing Jake felt heavenly, almost better than anyone you’ve kissed. It felt good to finally be the one leading. You felt so powerful with him writhing against you, yearning for more than just your kisses. You pulled away so both of you could catch your breath. Jake looked up at you, lidded eyes with a glow on them and his lips red and swollen from you biting on them occasionally. “Fuck, Jake. You look heavenly.” He only answered by chasing your lips, already missing the feeling of your lips on his. You pecked his lips before pulling away again, making him let out a whine. Your pussy throbbed at the sound, never had heard a man make such a beautiful sound, almost like a melody to you.
“Let’s move to the bed, yeah?” you asked breathlessly, making him nod eagerly. Both of you stumbled as you got off from your chairs, almost bumping into each other. Jake was the first one to lay in your bed, head hitting your soft pillows. You followed him, crawling in his way, until your legs were straddling his lap, sitting on it. You leaned down, taking his lips on your again. The kiss was messy and heated, both of you probably getting coated in spit but neither could care any less about the mess. His bulge felt delicious as it grew harder and harder below you, rubbing against your clothed core.
You grinded experimentally against his clothed member to which he let out a groan, feeling the heavenly friction of you against him. You kept slowly and teasingly grinding against him as your hands ran down from his face to his chest stopping by his nipples that felt hard against your fingertips. You pressed on them, his hips bucking up as he let out a yelp, not expecting the sudden stimulation. You smirked against him, pulling away from the kiss, a string of spit connecting you both. Your hands left his nipples to pull at the bottom of his shirt, indulging him to take it off. You stared at his toned torso, not expecting to see the lines on his abs, something you would deal with later.
Your mouth made its way to his neck, starting by kissing all over until you found his sweet spot. Your hands started moving back up again to his nipples, rubbing them, making him whine again as he grinded harder against you. “Never had your nipples played like this, Jakey?” you asked, pulling away from his neck “Tell me, baby. Do you like it?” he had his eyes closed and his brows furrowed as he tried to think of what to say. “F-fuck yes” he stuttered “Feels so good!” he said with a whine, making you smirk at his already fucked out state.
You lowered yourself, mouth moving to kiss from the dip in his chest, down to his abs, sucking on the area there, creating red marks all around. Your mouth kissed lower, following his happy trail until you reached the line of his pants. “Can I take this off, baby?” you asked him, pawing at the button. He nodded quicker than he would like to admit. “Need words, Jakey.” you demanded, wanting to hear him voice out his consent. “Yes, y/n, please, fuck”
With his green light, you started unbuttoning his pants and undoing the zipper. You tapped his hip, signalling him to raise them so you could take them off. He did as he was told and you pushed the jeans off, leaving him in just his boxers that already had a damp spot where the tip of his cock was. You stared at the bulge, already noticing that he was probably huge, making you feel a little nervous about fitting him in you. You squirmed in your spot, feeling an uncomfortable sticky feeling in your underwear, making you aware of how wet you were getting.
Jake whined, snapping you out of your thoughts, looking at you with eyes begging for you to touch him. You smiled at his helpless state “What d’you want, Jakey? Need you to speak or I won’t know.” He whined at your words, his brain feeling like a mush inside his head. “N-need you to touch it, please, just do something.” He answered, squirming in your bed as he felt more and more desperate. You didn’t say anything else as your hand moved to his bulge. Poor baby, was hard as a rock. It probably even hurt. You squeeze his length, pre cum escaping the tip and staining his boxers even more. “More, please! I need more,y/n!” he said with a whine.
You took some pity on him and your hands automatically moved to remove his boxers from him, cock hitting his stomach with a bounce, Fuck, he really was huge, and thick. A long vein ran from the base to the tip and you wanted nothing more than to do that. You lowered your mouth on his cock, licking up from the base until you reached the tip, engulfing it with your lips. You licked a stripe on the slit, making him groan at the delicious but almost overstimulating feeling. Your mouth moved down, taking almost his whole length. One of your hands wrapped around what you couldn’t fit, while the other moved to play with his balls, his hips bucking inside you making you gag around him.
The vision Jake had of you ass up and face down on his cock was what he hoped heaven looked like. Your mouth felt warm and heavenly and he already felt brain fucked. He had never felt such pleasure in his life and he just knew this was gonna be the suck of his life. He dared to look down again and his eyes met yours. He could bust right there and then with just the look you gave him. Your eyes were dark, pupils blown out, making him feel so powerless underneath you. His eyes closed shut when he felt you hollowing your cheeks to suck him even harder.
You could tell he was close. His hips were twitching as well as his whole cock and you could feel him throb in your mouth. You removed his length out of your mouth and licked down to his balls, licking them as your hand moved to jerk him off at a quick pace. His breath was getting shorter as he felt his release come closer and closer. “Oh, f-fuck! Please, Please, y/n!” He didn’t even know what he was begging for, his whole body felt numb, except for the knot on his stomach getting tighter and tighter.
Your lips moved to suck on his tip as your hand kept jerking him up and down. His cock started twitching hard in your grip “y/n I-I’m gonna cum-!” His warm cum spurt inside your mouth, making you moan at the feeling of him filling you up. He was moaning loudly as he rode out his orgasms, chest heaving up and down quickly as he tried to keep breathing. You gave him one last hard suck, making him shudder in overstimulation.
You moved to eye level with him, hand moving up to brush his hair away from his face. “Such a good boy for me, yeah?” He nodded in your hold, face flushed and eyes teary from his orgasm. Your lips met his, tongues instantly meeting. He could taste himself on you, making him groan as the bitter taste touched his buds. You pulled away from the kiss, sitting on him fully clothed. Your hands pulled at the hem of your top, taking it off and leaving your torso naked as you weren’t wearing a bra. Jake’s mouth gaped as he stared at your bare chest, hands twitching at his side, wanting to touch them.
“You can touch them, Jakey.” you smiled sweetly at him, showing him you were comfortable with whatever he wanted to do. He let out a shaky breath as his hands hesitated to travel to your chest. He held your boobs in his hand, fitting them perfectly in his calloused hands. He didn’t really know what to do so you moved your hands to hold his, moving his thumbs to rub and twist your hardened nipples. You quietly moaned at the feeling of his rough fingers touching your sensitive buds. You removed your hands from his, letting him experience you by himself. He pinched on your nipples, making you yelp in surprise. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt-” “Do it again.” you told him “W-What? Are you sure?” he asked hesitantly. “Yes, I liked it, Jakey. Was just surprised.” You answered, smiling at him.
His hands returned to your nipples pinching and rubbing them, making you clench around nothing. As much as you enjoyed the feeling you were getting impatient and needed to have him inside you as soon as possible. You grabbed his hands, taking them off of you as you stood up on the ground to take your bottoms off. You slowly pulled them down along with your panties. His eyes carefully watched as you stripped for him and him only.
You straddled him again, your pussy sitting right on top of his cock, making both of you moan at the feeling. Jake grabbed your hips up and sat against the headboard. “Wanted to have a better look at your face when you fuck me.” he said looking up at you with his puppy eyes. You were out of words so you cradled his face in your hands as you kissed him again. Your hips start moving as if on their own, rubbing our cunt against his length, making the tip bump against your clit. He whined inside your mouth as you swallowed his sounds.
You pulled away, hoisting your hips up as your hand grabbed his length and aligned the tip to your entrance. “W-wait!” he suddenly said making you stop in your movements. “Everything ok?” you asked worried that he might have been uncomfortable. “No, I just- You weren’t prepped and-” your lips clashing against his interrupted him, making him let out a protesting sound. “Don’t worry bout that, Jakey.” You simply said as you grabbed his length again positioning it on your gaping hole.
You slowly sink on him, your mouth opening in a silent moan while he whines in your ear, hands moving to circle your waist. You bottomed down and stayed still for a while to adjust to his big and thick size. The only thing heard was both of your heavy breaths. His hands were comfortingly rubbing up and down your back. When you felt ready you moved your head to look at him. “Ready?” you asked him and he nodded eagerly at you.
You started by slowly circling your hips around his length, both of you moaning at the euphoric feeling. He rested his head against your shoulder, panting in your ear. You circled your arms around his neck as you started to pick up your face. The room was filled with the sound of skin hitting skin and the squelch coming from your pussy. “F-fuck, y/n! Never felt s-so good.” Jake whispered as he felt his eyes roll back at the feeling of your raw cunt moving on his hard cock. “Yeah? You’re filling me up so good, Jakey. Even let you go in me raw.” You grabbed his head to make him look at you. His eyes were low and he had drool almost dripping out of the corners of his open mouth.
You moved around him at a now stable pace, moaning loudly when the tip of cock found the spongy spot inside you. “F-fuck, Jake!” he was stretching you out so good, taking you to cloud 9. You looked back at him, his head leaning back on the headboard, completely fucked out. “Look at you.” you said making him open his eyes, barely keeping them from closing again. “Fucked you dumb, didn’t I?” he nodded even though you weren’t really looking for an answer. “Poor baby, just wanted to be a good boy for someone, isn’t that right, Jakey?” he whined at your words, knowing they were fully true so he nodded his head as his eyes got even more teary, one tear even dropping out. You laughed at his state, knowing he had nothing on his brain but your pussy.
You felt the too-familiar pressure on your tummy starting to build up and his cock twitching again. You bottomed out on him again, grinding your hips down on him as you tried to reach your climax. “Oh God! I’m getting close, Jakey.” you said in a whiny moan” You’re gonna cum with me, yeah?” you felt his cock twitch harder inside you as he nodded at your question, wanting to fulfil your request. Your breath was getting laboured but you tried to maintain your composure for him.
Jake could feel you clench around him, knowing you were almost reaching your high. He slowly moved his hand from your waist to where your bodies met, rubbing on your clit. You let out a surprised yelp as you squeezed hard against him, eyes widening at the unexpected contact. “F-Fuck, Jake!” you said breathing heavily. “You make me feel so good.” Both of your lips met, desperately trying to reach both of your releases. You grinded faster on him, now moaning in sync against each other mouths. His finger rubbed faster on your swallowed nub, making your head spin as you threw it back.
“J-Jakey, I’m so close!” you said as you felt your thighs burn from exhaustion. “Me too, f-fuck!” His hips started slightly bucking upwards, trying to match with your movements. Your synced movements had you moaning loudly, not even caring if you’re gonna get complaints from your neighbours later. The sound of Jake’s whines getting louder along with the frequent twitching of his cock indicated that he was just as close as you. You sped up your movements as you felt the knot in your tummy about to burst.
“J-Jake, I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cu-” you were cut off by your orgasm, almost stopping in your movements with a silent scream. The feeling of your juices releasing against his cock had Jake cumming right after you with a loud whine. The aggressive twitching of his cock along with the feeling of his warm seeds painting your insides felt heavenly. You looked down to see a white ring form around his length, slowly moving up and down as you rode both of your orgasms out.
Your heads rested against each others’ shoulders as you stayed like that for a while, you with the feeling of his hands rubbing shapes on your back soothingly. The sound of both of your panting filled the silent room. The sound of traffic could also be heard from outside and it made you go back to your senses. You got your head up, urging Jake to do the same. You pulled him in one last kiss before you pulled his length out of you, making both of you hiss. You got up and walked towards the bathroom to grab a washcloth. You cleaned yourself up first before going back and cleaning his length for him. He shook from still being sensitive, making you chuckle at him.
You tossed the cloth onto the ground and laid next to him, sighing happily when your head hit the comfort of your pillows. Your hand rested on his chest rubbing circles on it as you simply looked at his peaceful state. The silence in the room wasn’t uncomfortable and you felt like you both made a silent rule of not talking about what happened. He grabbed your hand from his chest and gave it a kiss. “Thank you for taking care of me.” He said as he felt his cheeks warm up. You chuckle and prop your head on your hand to get a better view of him.
“Well, thank me when we get a good grade. This was my thanks in advance.” You said, making both of you laugh. “Yeah, maybe I’ll be the one rewarding you next time.”
#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enhypen hard hours#enhypen smut#enhypen sim jaeyun#enhypen sim jake#enhypen jake sim#enhypen jake smut#enhypen jake x you#enhypen jake x reader#enhypen jaeyun#jake smut#sim jake smut#sim jake x reader
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Harry Potter headcanons
₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊ ˚ 🔮✨️🪄 ₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚₊
Okay so it's my first time writing for Harry Potter since I've always been shying away of doing that cuz the fandom is so fucking big and there are people that know more or even know everything if they're obsessed and I'm just a newbie but I'll try my best and of course my first time writing for them will be smut.
⚠️ Smut warning ⚠️
(Obviously the characters are old enough for such things so everything from and after ootp)
Summary: What their favorite position might be and if they're bottom,top or switch.
Includes: Harry, Hermione , Ron, Fred, George, Sirius, Remus, Snape, Draco & Lucius
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🔮✧˚.🪄༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋🔮✧˚.🪄༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋🔮✧˚.🪄༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋🔮✧˚.🪄⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋🔮✧˚.🪄༘
Harry:
Ok so I think he could be switch depending on his partner and experience and strength and all that. So his favorite positions might be missionary if he's dom and riding if he's bottom. I know so fucking basic but hear me out for a sec. Missionary doesn't have to be that boring if played well. So he'd fuck you while looking deep into your eyes and touching your whole body or even hold your hands above your head. For sub and riding he'd enjoy looking at your boobs while they bounce and grab your ass or hold it and move you up and down while you ride.
Hermione:
Well now that's kinda hard..I mean she's a sub yeah but can also lead if you're a virgin. I'd say she likes riding you. I think she'd just enjoy moving on your cock to her liking (or strap on if you're female). She'd know what she needs and how it's best for her. Oh if you're wearing a strap on she would like any position doggy or missionary. Ok let's leave that there....
Ron:
I see Ron as a switch, I can't decide it's similar to Harry. I think he also likes riding a lot, just watching your beautiful body bouncing up and down on his cock while looking into your eyes and maybe even blushing a little. He'd occasionally squeeze your boobs if he finds the courage. Now if he feels dom, I'd say he would fuck the shit out of you in the doggy position. Hold onto your waist, spank you and grab your hair when he feels rough.
Fred:
Sooo I think dom. He is taller, older and even tho he's goofy and all that, he can be very dominant and lead you but in a soft and fun way. Not rough and strict. I bet he loves a good lap fuck. Like you sit on his lap and can cuddle into his chest or lay your head on his shoulder or just kiss while he fucks you nice and slow or even hard where you have your hands around his neck and bounce up and down on his cock. He would love to kiss your neck while fucking you and spank your ass from time to time.
George:
He's dom too but I think is a little rougher than Fred. Therefore I think spooning would be a good pick and now hear me out, before you say spooning is not a good position to fuck the shit out of someone. It is. He could move you a little and put your leg over his shoulder preferably in front of a mirror so he could see your private parts exposed not being able to hide anything from him cuz he won't let you put your leg down, it would be locked there especially when you're a lot smaller than him and yeah he is energetic so he could thrust rough and fast into you and rip you apart. You don't have to worry about him being slow. I think you'd even wish for him to be more gentle after he's done with you, girl.
Sirius:
Definitely dom without a second thought. He would love to fuck you up against the wall or in the air like he picks you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. His thrusts would be rough but if you're shy and unexperienced he would go very slow, sweet and romantic. He's older and so gentle, he would be the sweetest man ever to be fucked by for the first time. I can also imagine him doing you from behind against the wall. Pulling your hair, spanking you and all that yk.
Remus:
Dom obviously and well we're talking about a werewolf here so doggy would be the only fitting position, right? Yeah I know it would be perfect for Sirius too but no idk shh. I think of him as very gentle and loving while doing it, not rough until you ask him to be and still then he wouldn't be as rough as Sirius for example. Stroking your cheek after he finished, asked if it hurt or something and of course while fucking checking on you. Very sweet guy. Depth is also his type of shit, he could watch your face to see how he does.
Snape:
Hell I don't even know..I mean dom yeah but position?..Probably butterfly. So you lay down, he stands and your legs on his shoulders. He likes slow but hard thrusts. That's so hot tbh..Going slow not like a Draco maniac (more to that later) but hard thrusts, I hope you all know what I mean but since you're reading this I assume you're a pervy one. Then when he's close he would go a little faster but that's about it. Don't you worry, he is thick so the pace doesn't matter, babe.
Draco: Yeah I know sorry for putting him all the way down here, I gotta admit I almost forgot him lol
Okay dom of course..I mean obviously. He likes to brag and shit but dom yeah. Dude he'd like to try many positions but I think what he likes most is to just lay down, hands behind his head and just let you ride him and do all the work for him. So yeah riding and nelson is very fitting. If you don't know what nelson is pls look it up it's hard to explain. Nelson is the perfect one fr fr. Missionary would be up there too and just rough and quick sex like his pace is out of this world..I mean makes sense given his emotions, energy and slim body type. He doesn't fuck around lol.
Lucius:
Dom of course. But the sex would be slow, romantic and noble like rich people kinda sex (what? Idk) so I think missionary yes and reverse cowgirl is kinda his thing I'd say. He likes it slow and romantic with wine and roses but when he's anxious like that he will also use you to relieve his stress so he would just grab you tight and fuck you putting his whole weight on your body so it's almost hard to breathe but you don't wanna get him mad, do you?
—
I gotta admit I'm kinda "scared?" to post this cuz I'm a newbie so don't be too strict with me..
#harry potter#hp fandom#hp imagine#fred weasley#george weasley#severus snape#lucius malfoy#ron weasley#sirius black#remus lupin#draco malfoy#harry potter smut#harry x reader#ron weasly x reader#draco x reader#draco malfoy x reader#severus snape x reader#remus lupin x reader#sirius black x reader#hp fanfic#harry potter imagine#hermione granger#hermione x reader
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Using a random number generator for the angst prompts: 20 Starved + 30 Dangerous Temperatures
... and Leo, of course.
OH GOD OK
uh so. I had an idea. and I decided to write it for this ask I got forever ago. And then, uh.
it really
really got out of hand.
This is a pretty dark fic (even for me) and at the current moment in time it is hurt/no comfort. I do intend to write a part 2, probably tomorrow, but as of the time I'm typing this author's note I've been writing for around 5+ hours straight and I need to take a break! So please, if you don't want to read all this without the comfort included, feel free to wait for the next part before reading! I'll link it and the end once it's posted.
Content warnings: Kidnapping, confinement, psychological torture, nonconsensual voyeurism (I guess this is the best way to put this; Leo isn't doing anything sexual but it's still violating), mild violence, HEAVY ANGST, Leo just having the shittiest time possible.
I HOPE?? YOU ENJOY??? hahahaha....
btw this is set between S2 and the movie (though tbh its canon compliance is... /waves hand)
-----
When Leo imagined himself getting captured by some kind of shady, quasi-governmental agency intent on imprisoning mutants, it was never anything like this.
When he let his mind go there, he always pictured that he would be strapped to a table. Maybe muzzled. That scientists would stand over him, scalpels and drills in hand, and start to take him apart. That they'd examine him piece by piece, and wouldn't give him any anesthesia while they did it.
But there is no table, no muzzle, no restraints at all. He's just in a room.
Well, a cell, technically - the steel door is locked, and there are no windows, no furniture but a bare cot in one corner and a lone toilet in another. But it doesn't really look like a cell. It looks like a room.
A very, very white room. White walls. White ceiling. White tiles (with white grout, even). The toilet is white, a roll of white toilet paper on the floor next to it. The only things that aren't white are the cot and the door and Leo himself.
They took his gear and his weapons, because of course they did. Since the door is steel, he already knows he's not breaking it down; he gives it a half-hearted slam anyway, just to say he tried. He should be able to just portal out, except he hasn't learned how to use his portals without his swords to channel his ninpo through, and there's nothing in here with him that he can use to make new ones.
So he's stuck. He's going to have to wait until someone opens that door for some reason. Or, of course, until his family swings by to pick him up. Though, if possible, he'd like to escape before that happens. The image in his mind, of sitting outside his cell and grinning at them as they arrive to rescue him, is too cool to pass up.
He's not sure how long it's been already. He knows that they knocked him out after ambushing him, and he doesn't know how long he was unconscious. The heavy molasses feel of his head and arms when he woke up suggests that he was drugged. It's wearing off now, though, which means he has a clear head to take in the all of nothing that's in the room with him.
He sits on the cot he woke up on and waits for something to happen.
There's no way for him to tell time, but he thinks it's an hour or so later when there's a sudden beep, and then the sound of a metal panel sliding up. It's a slot near the door that has just opened - inside the revealed alcove is a bottle of water.
He comes to it curiously, taking a long look around the bottle. The slot doesn't open straight through, and even if it did, it's not big enough for anything more than his arm or a foot to fit through. He thinks it must function like an airlock, or maybe they slid the bottle down from somewhere above - he feels around just in case, and finds that the slot is enclosed on all sides but his. Probably his airlock theory, then.
As soon as he removes the bottle, the panel slams shut again.
"You're really determined to keep me in here, huh?" he says to whatever hidden cameras are watching him. He carries the water bottle back to his cot, but doesn't open it, instead setting it down on the floor by the wall. The paranoid part of his brain, the one that doesn't miss a trick, is reminding him that drinking the water is probably a bad idea. Who knows what they might have put in it?
He sits on the cot for awhile longer. Still, nothing happens.
"I'm getting pretty bored in here," he says for the audience that must be somewhere. "Come on, you have a one of a kind turtle in here, and you don't even want to talk to me?"
Time passes, slow and quiet. Leo goes through periods where his anxiety spikes and he starts to wonder if he's been abandoned by whoever brought him here, before the boredom eventually numbs the anxiety back out. Another bottle of water is eventually delivered, and this one he keeps in his hands after retrieving it. It's completely unlabeled, not even a "Use by" date printed on the bottle itself, so it doesn't provide much mental stimulation. He spins the bottle to make little whirlpools inside, because it's something to do.
He's trying to make the fastest whirlpool he can when he hears a sudden click, different from the beep of the water bottle hole, and he looks up just in time to see a large section of the wall in front of him turn black, and then light up to show the room beyond his cell.
He jolts, setting the bottle aside. He knew they must be watching him, but somehow he didn't catch that part of the wall was a whole window.
His audience isn't very large - five people, unless there are others he can't see. Two wear lab coats, two wear fatigues... but the one who comes to stand directly in front of the window is wearing a black suit, with steel rimmed glasses. He leans forward, and speaks into a small microphone.
"Inmate 24365," says the suited man. "I am Agent Bishop, of the Earth Protection Force. My subordinates tell me that you can speak and understand the English language. Is this correct?"
"Qué?" Leo asks.
Bishop does not look amused. "Inmate 24365," he says, "you have two options. You can cooperate with me, answer my questions, and we will make your stay here more comfortable. Do not cooperate, and we will make your stay uncomfortable. Do you understand?"
Leo pretends to hem and haw over this. "How comfortable are we talkin'?"
"I'm sure you would like some dinner."
"You know, I'm not really hungry." He says it to be difficult, but it's actually true - the uncertainty of the situation has put his stomach in too many knots to want to eat anything. "Maybe if you offer me some comic books? Or a TV?
To Bishop's credit, his face doesn't so much as twitch. He keeps his steely eyes locked on Leo. "Answer our questions, and you will receive food. Do you understand?"
Leo stays noncommittal. "What are the questions?"
He's expecting Bishop to ask about his family. He's not expecting what comes next.
"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave?" he asks. "How are these gateways accessed? What kind of defensive capabilities do the yokai have?"
Leo keeps the surprise off his face. Bishop thinks he's a yokai.
This is, overall, a good development. Bishop might not know about Leo's family, then, or at least not know that they live on the surface. This means the Earth Protection Force likely isn't pursuing his brothers, which means they will be safe until they can help Leo get out of here.
He doesn't let the relief show through, either. Bishop doesn't know anything, and now Leo just has to ride out the next few hours until the calvary arrives.
"You know," he says, "I think I'm good with my current levels of comfort."
If Bishop is mad or frustrated or dismayed by this choice, he doesn't show it. His expression stays stony as he stares in at Leo, sizing him up.
"Very well," he says after a few more seconds. "I will see you tomorrow, then."
The window goes dark, and then turns stark white to match the walls. Leo wants to go over and tap at it, see if it feels different when he touches it, but knowing that Bishop is surely still there, watching him, keeps him rooted to the cot.
He goes back to making whirlpools with the bottle. If they aren't going to entertain him, he isn't going to entertain them, either.
-----
Another water bottle comes some time after his talk with Bishop. He finally opens this one and takes a cautious sip. Nothing tastes off or strange, so he drinks more. They don't want to feed him, but they're fine keeping him hydrated. No reason to stay thirsty, then.
He wishes the water calmed the anxiety still roiling in his stomach, but if anything it just makes him feel even more energized. He bounces his foot and surveys his room again, looking for any weak spots or access points. He can't see anything, though, other than the areas where he knows the water bottle hole and window are; even the vents that relentlessly blow cold air into the room are well hidden.
Knowing that there are people standing just outside his cell watching him, like some kind of zoo animal, puts him on edge. The window is so big that he's pretty sure the only blind spots are either directly underneath it or right by the door on the same wall. After debating it, he leaves his cot and sits on the floor underneath the window, surveying the room from a different angle now and still coming up empty. At least they're going to have a harder time staring at him.
His eyes catch on the toilet in the corner, directly across from the window. It's not in the blind spot, and realizing this makes his insides lurch uncomfortably - hopefully he has a chance to bust out before using it becomes necessary.
Though, he's not sure when that chance is going to come. If they have a slot to pass him water, they could use that to pass him food, too, so it's unlikely that anyone is going to open the door unless they need to take him out.
So maybe his fantasy of being outside when his brothers arrive isn't going to happen. Well, that's okay; he'll just be sure to make some other part of their escape totally rad. That will make up for the embarrassment of getting kidnapped a block from Run of the Mill.
(Seriously, some kind of ninja he is, to let a bunch of human soldiers sneak up on him.)
He drains the water bottle, then starts to roll it back and forth across the floor, like a cat batting at a toy. Leo's not sure what's worse right now: the worry or the boredom. There's nothing to look at and no one to talk to, just an empty room with him and his water bottles.
He's too keyed up to sleep, and the fluorescent lights are still on, anyway. He has no way of telling what time it is, so maybe it just isn't that late yet. And even sitting here, in the blind spot, the idea of closing his eyes while people are watching makes unease crawl up his spine. Staying awake is the easy choice. He'll sleep after he's out of here.
So he sits under the window and rolls his bottle back and forth, back and forth, with only the sound of plastic on tile to keep his thoughts company.
-----
The first three water bottles came pretty regularly, but now there is a very long stretch where nothing is delivered. Leo is starting to think maybe it really is night now. They don't turn off the lights in his cell, though, and he has no controls to do it himself. At least it helps with the whole "staying awake" thing.
Just in case they've decided to suspend his water privileges along with the food, he holds off drinking any more for now.
Speaking of food, his appetite has finally decided to return. His stomach starts to growl at him after several hours (he thinks) of sitting in the floor, an annoying emptiness in his stomach. Knowing there's no food accessible just makes the hunger sharper, but he puts it out of his mind the best he can with nothing else to focus on. He can eat once he's free.
Which should be soon. Seriously, his brothers have to be on their way by now, right?
He's pretty sure it's been the better part of a day, if not a whole day, since he was kidnapped. And, okay, he's willing to give them some leeway; it's understandable if they got a late start. He did storm out of the lair after his latest fight with Raph, and no one ever came to check on him when he did that. Understandably, he thinks, because who wants to be around Bad Mood Leo? Not even Leo wants to be around Bad Mood Leo!
But he'd already turned back into Good Mood Leo by the time he left Hueso's, so surely they knew it had been more than enough time. They would have noticed when he didn't come home. They would have realized something happened. They would be looking for him.
And if they're looking for him, they'll find him! Obviously.
His stomach growls again, and Leo leans his head back against the wall behind him. Maybe he shouldn't think of being at Hueso's. Now he just wants pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom, maybe, or Hawaiian. Mix it up a little with the barbeque chicken.
Another growl. He groans out loud.
He stays awake, twisting and crinkling the empty bottle in his hands, until another full one finally arrives.
-----
No chance to escape comes before using the toilet is necessary.
He tried to hold out, he really did, but he ended up drinking more water to stave off the growing hunger, and it's lowkey cold in here, which doesn't help. Still, the issue of the window sends an uneasy shiver up his spine, doubting that any people outside will feel the need to turn away and give him some privacy. Maybe he should have gone while he suspected it was nighttime.
(Maybe he shouldn't assume they ever aren't watching him.)
He stands up and walks over to the cot, giving it a light nudge with his foot. In a stroke of luck, it isn't bolted to the floor, and it's light enough that he can lift it. The black mesh it's made of is tightly woven, enough that not much is visible through it. It will have to do.
He picks it up and drags it over in front of the toilet, propping it up on its legs so it makes a small wall between himself and the window. It's hardly ideal, but the semblance of privacy makes him relax somewhat.
(He can't think about how there are surely cameras in the room watching him from all angles, making his attempt at a barrier moot. He knows better than anyone that sometimes pleasant lies are necessary.)
After he does his business, he leaves the cot propped where it is; it's not like he's sleeping on it. There's no sink for him to wash his hands, but he's never been the strictest about it, anyway (much to Donnie's disgust). He returns to his spot under the window, squeezing the water bottle to the rhythm of the first song that comes to mind.
Only two verses and a bridge later, the window above his head turns black, then goes clear. Thinking that Bishop might have been watching him just now makes a cold, slimy feeling roll down his spine. Creepy!
"Inmate 24365," comes Bishop's voice through the unseen speaker. "Stand."
Leo doesn't. He stays right where he is, under the window.
Bishop waits only a few seconds. Then Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."
He gets up at that, turning and leaning his arm against the window. It strangely doesn't feel like glass, even though it must be. "It's already cold enough in here," he says. He wonders how they can hear him, when he doesn't see a microphone on his side.
"You were told your conditions would only be made comfortable after you answer our questions," Bishop informs him. "The same as before: how many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways-"
"How about you answer my questions first," Leo interjects. "You keep calling me "inmate," but I haven't been charged with anything. Pretty sure you can't detain me without cause."
"The EPF is authorized to detain non-human inmates for as long as deemed necessary for the security of the United States," says Bishop smoothly. "Probable cause doctrine does not apply in this case."
"That's gotta be unconstitutional."
"The constitution does not recognize the rights of yokai. You have no right to counsel, no right to a speedy trial, and no right to protections from cruel and unusual punishments." Bishop's stare is colder than the temperature in the room. "But I am not an unfair man. Answer my questions, and I will provide you with food and clothing."
Leo tosses a glance over his shoulder. "How about a private bathroom?"
Bishop's expression stays ever in place, unimpressed and stoic. "Food and clothing," he repeats.
Leo gives his head a shake. "Then nope," he says, popping the "p". "I plead the fifth."
"As I have already explained, the Bill of Rights does not apply to you."
"That's such crap." Leo bangs his fist on the window. "You can't just keep me here forever for no reason!"
"I do have reasons." Bishop leans closer to the window, his eyes narrowing. "Let's try a different question. What is your relation to Baron Draxum?"
The surprise is fast and sharp, but Leo just manages to keep it from showing on his face. "Who?" he asks innocently, even as the panic sets into his chest. If they know about Draxum, what else do they know?
"We know you are acquainted with him," says Bishop. "What is the nature of your relationship?"
Leo knows they aren't bluffing - why would they bring up that very specific name otherwise? There's no lie he can tell that won't reveal something.
So he doesn't say anything. Instead, he turns his back to the window and sits down, staring resolutely at the opposite wall.
Bishop clicks his tongue. "Very well," he says. "I am a patient man. I can wait." Then, more muffled, like he's facing away from the microphone, Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."
The window goes dark, then turns back to white. Leo doesn't move for a long time.
-----
The third water bottle arrives, so he guesses that's the end of day two.
He's shaking as he gets up to retrieve it, adding it to his growing water bottle hoard. He's gone through three and a half by now, but he's trying not to drink them too fast.
As promised, no food is delivered, and his stomach growls and rumbles in protest. The water helps, but only slightly. He needs to eat.
He also needs to sleep.
The panicked adrenaline spikes that have kept him awake this long are starting to die down, with more and more long stretches of exhaustion between them. The shaking is near constant, bringing with it the weird jittery feeling he gets when his insomnia gets particularly bad.
The window is still unnerving him. The idea of sleeping while they're watching him feels staggeringly unsafe.
But he doesn't think he can hold out now until his family gets here. Sure, they're probably getting close (they have to be getting close), but they're sure taking their sweet time. And he's just so tired.
After a long internal debate, he lays down on the cold tile floor. It's not at all comfortable, but somehow he doubts the cot would be any better. Besides, even if he moves the cot under the window, he thinks it would be easier to see him if he uses it. So on the floor it is.
He presses as close to the wall as he can, curling up into a ball for warmth. He wishes he had a blanket.
He wishes he was home.
He squeezes his eyes shut tight and forces back the sudden wave of overwhelming homesickness. There's no reason to feel this way. It's only been two days! What is he, a baby?
It's fine. It's all fine. They're definitely on his trail now. Raph is leading the team. Donnie is using some kind of invention to blah blah blah nerd stuff. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative journalism skills to find clues.
They're on their way. He just has to hold out a little longer. He can do this.
He sleeps, and in his dreams, something grabs him tight and drags him down and down and down where he can't escape.
-----
The same routine plays out over the next two days.
Leo gets two water bottles delivered, spaced, if he had to guess, about five hours apart. Bishop comes to visit him some time after the second bottle. Leo refuses to answer his questions. Bishop turns the temperature down and then leaves. A few hours later his last water bottle comes. Then nothing for the whole night.
They still don't turn off his lights, but exhaustion is starting to win over the brightness.
More than a few times, Leo tries to summon a portal on his own, without his swords. If his family is going to take their sweet time in coming, he might as well try to help them out. He tries to summon his ninpo (without glowing), tries to feel the tug inside of him that he always does when he teleports, tries to envision the place he wants to go and tunnel through space to get there.
Nothing. Always nothing.
(Donnie can make his constructs independent of his bo staff. Raph can send his projections away from his sai. Mikey's learning to use mystic powers without his nunchucks. So why does Leo need his katana? Why is he the only one this useless?)
It probably doesn't help that he's so damn hungry. It's a constant companion now, a low and hollow ache that chooses inconvenient times to turn into white hot stabs of urgency, into seizing cramps that steal his breath. The water only helps so much - it keeps him alive but doesn't satisfy, doesn't soothe. In some ways it just makes the feeling worse.
And he's always shaking, too, but he doesn't know if that's the hunger or the cold.
Maybe the cold wouldn't bother him so much if it were at least still. But the vents blow fresh air inside relentlessly, and no matter where he goes he can't seem to get out of the direct stream. The cold wind batters his tired body, and there's places his skin is starting to turn dry and flaky. His nose won't stop running, and he's allowed himself a small section of his one roll of toilet paper to blow it, already stiff and congealed and disgusting.
It's miserable.
And there's still nothing to do.
He stacks a pyramid out of his empty water bottles, knocks it down, then stacks it up again. He tries to come up with some new and exciting ways to demolish it, but it's only new and exciting for so long.
He spends a few hours of day three singing karaoke as obnoxiously as possible. He hopes everyone outside enjoys the performance.
He recounts every issue of Jupiter Jim he knows to himself, then the plot of every movie. Then he goes through Lou Jitsu films, then anything else he can think of. That eats up a good chunk of day four.
By the time he gets his first water bottle of day five, he's out of ideas to entertain himself. He's never been good at this. He doesn't know how introverts like Donnie can go multiple days without talking to someone.
But when Bishop comes back with his daily offer of conversation, Leo once again impolitely declines.
-----
Something new happens on night five.
It's been a long time since the last water bottle. Leo has been trying to sleep, but it's not coming easy; he's exhausted, but the floor is so cold and he's so sore from staying on it night after night. Not to mention, his nightmares have been getting worse, and he isn't eager to return to them.
Add on the hunger, and sleep is elusive.
Suddenly, there's the telltale shadow of the window above him turning dark - this time, though, it doesn't light up as much as normal. Confused and curious, Leo sits up and takes a peek.
The room beyond is dim, only the glow of a green EXIT sign and a small desk lamp lighting the space. But it's enough for Leo to see a man standing there, looking inside. It's not Bishop - in fact, he doesn't recognize this person at all. They're wearing fatigues, but it's not anyone he's seen in the room during Bishop's normal interrogations.
The man catches sight of Leo, and the grinning leer on his face makes Leo regret looking.
He beckons for Leo to stand up. Warily, Leo does, unable to help but keep his arms folded tight over his chest. Not for the first time, he wishes he had some clothes - his gear, at the very least. Anything to not feel quite so exposed.
The man reaches down and picks something up, holding it aloft for Leo's inspection. "Want a sandwich?" he asks into the microphone.
The sandwich looks like white bread and bologna. No cheese, no other toppings that Leo can spot. Maybe some mustard, if anything. Overall, the most boring possible sandwich he could have been offered.
Leo's mouth is watering.
He has to swallow hard before answering. He doesn't trust this. Even if his stomach is slamming up and down at the promise of food, food, food.
"I'm not hungry," he lies.
The man laughs. It's not a kind sound. "Sure you ain't," he says. "You spend every night curled up on the floor like the dumb animal you are. Can you even eat this?" He waves the sandwich for emphasis.
Leo doesn't answer. He takes a step back from the window, like that will put any kind of distance between them. Like that will save him.
The man watches him with a sleezy grin. He waves the sandwich again.
"You want this," he says.
Leo shakes his head.
"You really sure?"
Leo shudders. Stands tall. Nods.
The man watches him for a long, long moment. Leo fights the urge to hide.
Finally, with a shrug, the man says, "Suit yourself."
Then he starts eating the sandwich. Right where Leo can watch.
Leo's stomach growls, loud and angry in his ears, and he has to physically hold himself back from crumpling.
After several bites, the man suddenly reaches out and taps the window, indicating the cot stood up in front of the toilet.
"That," he says, giving another tap for emphasis, "doesn't do shit."
Leo wants to crawl out of his own skin.
The need to hide is suddenly too great. He rushes to the cot, grabbing it and dragging it back to the blind spot under the window. He sets it down on all four legs, so it's as close to the floor as possible.
Then he lies down on his belly and wriggles underneath. It's a tight squeeze, and the cot ends up pushed up by his shell, suspended in the air, but he doesn't care.
He curls up in his pleasant lie of privacy and bites his hand to keep from screaming himself hoarse.
After an eternity, the window above him turns white again. It doesn't matter. Leo knows he's still there. Still watching.
-----
"You look tired," Bishop greets him. Leo answers with a dead-eyed stare.
"I keep telling you, if you want your conditions to improve, all you have to do is answer my questions."
Leo says nothing. He just stares, arms wrapped tight around himself to try and keep his body heat in.
"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways accessed?"
For a moment, Leo considers just... telling him.
His family doesn't live in the Hidden City. The yokai have never exactly greeted them with open arms. What does he care if these military guys go after them? At least then, maybe he can finally eat something.
That's not what a hero does, Leo! echoes Mind Raph disapprovingly. Innocent people will get hurt!
Right. He's a hero. And heroes don't give into the demands of shitty guys like Bishop.
Leo swallows hard. "No comment."
Bishop's face changes ever so slightly: his brow creases. Leo wonders if that's good or bad for him.
"You understand that Baron Draxum is a known threat, don't you?" he asks. "We are aware of his plans to commit mass murder on the human population. We also know that he has been dormant for some time, and we need information on what he is planning."
Leo thinks of Barry's ambitions to be recognized as the best lunchperson in all of America and can't help but laugh. It comes out cracked and wheezing.
Bishop's furrow gets deeper. "Do you think this is funny?"
"Little bit," says Leo.
Bishop has a chasm to rival Raph's now. Leo knows he shouldn't, but he grins. It's his one moment of triumph - only he can be this aggravating.
And then Bishop says, "Temperature down seven degrees," and that wipes the smile right off Leo's face.
-----
The plastic of the water bottles is soft and pliable and feels weirdly good under Leo's teeth.
He chews the top of the bottle, gnawing at it until it's completely flattened out, pockmarked with little tiny indents from his incisors. It's not eating - it won't fill his belly or ease the persistent hunger pains. But something about the motion is soothing. The place-bo effect.
Pla-ce-bo, corrects Donnie's voice in his mind, sounding testy.
Where are you? Leo thinks back.
There's no answer.
He's gnawed his way through four water bottles. There's eighteen in total now, two and a half still full of water. He thought about using one to wash up a bit, but decided against it in the end. He knows he stinks, but the last thing he wants right now is to be wet. Not when he's starting to see his breath.
Oh well. It's not like he has anywhere to be.
He turns his attentions to the lids next. These are harder and thus tougher to chew. Still, if Leo uses his molars, he can eventually crack the lip, and then bend the plastic in and in, chewing until he ends up with a flat disc.
It's just small enough that Leo could swallow it, if he wanted to.
He thinks he remembers watching some kind of wildlife documentary. Or maybe he didn't watch it himself, but Mikey told him about it. Or maybe April? He doesn't know. His thoughts swim in and out and get lost on the way.
Point is. Sea turtles in the wild die all the time because of plastic in the water. They cut open their stomachs and find trash inside.
Well, Leo is a turtle in captivity. Maybe that means he's immune. Maybe he could swallow this plastic lid, and then he'd finally feel full and the pain pain pain of his empty stomach would go away.
He does not swallow the plastic lid. But it's more tempting than he'd like to admit.
It's going to be okay. When his family gets him out of here, they'll have a big pizza to celebrate. Maybe he can even talk them into letting him have the last slice.
It has to be any moment now, right? It's been a week. They have to be closing in. Any moment now, the door will open, and there they'll be to take him home.
The air conditioning blows relentlessly against his skin. He sneezes, then rubs the snot on his arm. He's given up on the tissue paper.
It'll be over soon. It has to be. Just hang in there, Leon, just a little longer.
He picks up another bottle and starts chewing.
-----
He's playing a mindless little game with his flattened bottle lids the next time Bishop comes.
"I'm surprised you still have any energy at all," says Bishop, and Leo wants to punch him.
(Really, he wants to do more than that. But those kinds of thoughts always make him feel weird and bad, so he pushes them away.)
"You should have learned by now," he says, pushing to his feet and trying not to show how badly he's trembling, "you can't keep me down."
"This is all unnecessary," says Bishop. "I'll feed you as soon as you answer my questions."
Leo barks out a laugh. "Sure you will."
"I will," says Bishop. He turns and says over his shoulder, "Bring it here."
One of the men in fatigues steps forward and hands a tray with a covered plate over to Bishop. Bishop uncovers the tray and holds it where Leo can see.
Baked chicken, broccoli with cheese, mashed potatoes.
Leo's stomach twists and cramps so painfully he has to bend at the hips and clutch his midriff.
"This is yours, as soon as you answer my questions."
Leo pointedly keeps from looking at the food. He shakes his head. He can't. He can't.
"Such persistence." Bishop's voice is scolding now. "You understand that you are a known accomplice to a terrorist, don't you? But if you become a cooperating witness, you will be granted some leniency."
Leo barks a laugh, lifting his eyes to look at Bishop's face, and pointedly not the food. "What's the point?" he asks. "If I'm not... protected by the constitution, or whatever. Are you going to let me go?"
"No," says Bishop. "But as I have told you, your conditions will become more comfortable." He waves the tray of food.
Leo stares at him, before a manic smile splits his face.
"You... stupid bastard. I can't even answer your questions." He slams a shaking hand against his plastron. "I'm not even a yokai! Do you get that? I'm not a yokai!"
Bishop looks skeptical. "Obviously you are."
"I'm not!" Leo rages. "I'm a mutant! I'm from New York! I don't even live in the Hidden City!"
Bishop's eyes flash. "I see," he says, "so you do know of it."
Leo falters, his body going slack.
What an obvious, stupid mistake.
(Some face-man he is.)
It takes Leo a long moment to answer. Bishop stays right where he is, holding the food so tantalizingly close and yet still out of reach.
"...I don't know about the gateways," he says finally. "I don't know about their defensive capabilities. I don't know what Baron Draxum is planning."
"Your lies are obvious," says Bishop. "You really don't want this? It's your last chance today."
Leo stares at the food. His mouth is watering so hard it might start to drip. Would it really be so bad to answer? They don't live in the Hidden City. And Draxum dropped him off a roof.
Draxum is trying to change, says Mind Raph. You see what these guys are like. You can't turn the yokai over to them. They'll hurt them!
What about me? he asks. Is it okay if I get hurt?
You're a hero, Leo, says Mind Raph. You can deal with it for a little longer. It's just a room. Just a little cold. Just some hunger.
He's a hero. He can deal with it. He can. He can.
He'll make them proud. Show them they can trust him.
It takes everything he has, but he shakes his head.
Bishop tuts. Then he throws the entire plate in the trash.
"Tomorrow, then," he says. Then the window is gone.
Leo collapses on his cot and tries not to cry.
-----
After his third water bottle on day eight, one of the fluorescent lights over his head flickers and then dies out.
It's not surprising, since they keep them running twenty-four seven. The blessedly dimmed lighting is actually nice, for once. Leo thinks maybe he could get some sleep, if the gnawing hunger and the constant shivers don't keep him awake.
He's just closed his eyes and snuggled up under his cot when it occurs to him: they may come in to fix it. If keeping the lights on day and night is part of their plan to torture him, to keep him exhausted and anxious and on edge, then they have to.
Which means his chance is finally here.
He has to be careful about this. He has to be ready to move, but he can't let them know he's ready to move. He has to let them think he's too weak, too exhausted, to make an escape attempt.
(He can't let himself think that, though. He can't give up before he tries.)
So he stays under his cot, but subtly shifts it so it won't restrict his movement. He has to be ready to burst out as soon as he gets a chance. Get past whoever comes in, then get out the door. It's after the last water bottle, so it's nighttime. There will be fewer people. He can do this. He can do this.
Find his swords. Make a portal. Get out.
Just as he was thinking, after a long time has passed, there is a loud warning beep, different from the water bottle beep. An automated voice says from somewhere unseen, "Inmates clear the door. Security personnel entering. Stay still and you will not be harmed."
Then the door slides open, and someone comes in.
It's a man wearing fatigues. Leo thinks this is the one who "offered" him a sandwich the other day. He's holding some kind of gun with a long barrel. He does a sweep of the room with his eyes, coming to rest on Leo under his cot. He gives Leo the same leering grin, and waves the barrel of the gun in his direction.
"Now you behave, and we'll get along just fine," he says.
He steps to the side, and another man enters, this one wearing the kind of jumpsuit Leo sees janitors in on TV. He's carrying a stepladder in one hand and a long tube in the other. Is that what fluorescent lights look like? Leo didn't know.
The man walks to the middle of the room and sets up his stepladder. Then he walks up and pulls off the light casing. When he unhooks the old bulb, it causes the other bulb to flicker, just for a few moments.
Leo explodes out from under the cot, grabbing the man in fatigues by the legs and yanking as hard as he can. The man yelps in surprise, and Leo hears the sound of the gun going off in a random direction. The janitor shouts and drops the light bulb - the sound of shattering glass joins the cacophony.
Leo jumps to his feet and runs out the door they had been too stupid to close, sprinting toward the EXIT sign. He's exhausted and shaky but he's coursing with adrenaline, and he leans on it hard to keep him moving. Don't stop, don't stop, get out of here. He'll figure out what to do next once he's free.
Past the exit sign there's a large open room with desks and computer monitors. Most of them are off, but one lingering woman in a lab coat, seated at her desk, screams when she sees Leo dash through the middle of the office space.
"Security!" she screams into a device on her chest. "Inmate is escaping! Inmate is escaping!"
Leo doesn't have time to shut her up, he just keeps moving. He pushes through the next door and arrives in a hallway; he only has time to glance one way and then the other before scrambling to the left, hoping it was a good choice.
He rounds a corner and sees another green EXIT sign up ahead. It's not where he meant to go - he meant to find where they're keeping his swords first. But he hears shouting behind him and doesn't stop. Fine, so no portals - he'll figure out something else once he's away from here.
He throws himself forward into the exit door, which leads him into yet another hallway. Another long sprint, with shouting and slamming doors at his heels, and then finally, finally, a third EXIT sign, and he crashes outside.
Where there's snow on the ground, snow on the trees.
It steals his breath away. There shouldn't be snow. It's May.
Where is he?
He takes a breath of air so cold it seizes his lungs, then takes a step forward. He'll worry about that-
BANG!
A piercing pain in his shoulder nearly sends him toppling over. Leo shouts, grasping for the wound and feeling something sticking out of his skin. He grabs it and yanks, pulling it free.
It's a dart.
Damn it, he thinks, before his vision goes woozy, and he collapses into the snow.
-----
"Are you proud of your little escape attempt?" comes Bishop's voice.
Leo looks up from his cot. Bishop has to get so close to the window to see him that his nose is pressed flat against it. It should be hilarious, but Leo doesn't really have the energy to laugh. Or to do much of anything.
He's hungry. He's tired. He's cold. He's still sluggish from the drugs.
And they threw away all his water bottles. Fuckers.
Leo rolls over on the cot and covers his ears.
"What a childish response," says Bishop, and that's funny, too, because Leo literally is a child. Or a teenager, anyway. He doesn't feel like it will help him much to point that out, though.
"All you have to do is answer my questions, and all this will be fixed."
That's the funniest thing of all. The idea that he spills his guts and Bishop treats him to a five course meal to make up for all the pain up till now. Hilarious.
He says nothing.
Bishop sighs.
"You are likely still affected by the tranquilizing agent. I'll return tomorrow."
Before he leaves, he says, "Temperature down five degrees."
-----
The same man is back that night. He opens the window and looks down at Leo with the same leering smile. Leo can't even take satisfaction in the bandage on the side of his head.
"Neat little trick you had yesterday," he says. "Almost got me fired."
Leo wishes it had gotten him fired. But he clearly has no luck in this situation.
"You know, I respect the attempt. And you probably would have gotten farther with a little food in your belly." The man reaches down, then retrieves a sandwich, as mouth-wateringly unappetizing as the last time. "You sure you don't want this?"
And Leo knows he shouldn't trust this guy. Leo knows he should say no.
But he's just...
so...
hungry.
So he gets up. And he turns to the window. On shaking limbs that can barely hold him upright anymore. With a body that is laced with pain and aches and cramps.
And he nods.
The man's smile gets wider. "What do you say?" he asks, in the sing-song tone of a parent scolding a child.
It makes a sick nausea rise in Leo's throat. But he wants the sandwich.
"Please," he gasps out.
"Mmm... not good enough." The man waves the sandwich. "You want this? You beg for it."
Leo stares, eyes wide. But the sandwich... the sandwich...
He gets down on his knees. Feels a searing flush of humiliation. His stomach is rolling and gurgling and cramping with pain, a hollow, empty chasm inside him desperate to be filled.
He lowers his head.
"Please," he says. "I... I want the sandwich. I'm... begging you, please."
The man laughs, loud and long. When Leo finally finds it in him to raise his eyes, the sandwich is already half eaten.
"Hey, good job," says the man, licking a bit of mustard off his thumb. "That was real convincin'."
And then he takes another bite.
Just like that, Leo forgets about the pain, the aches, the cold, the hunger. All that's left is pure, white hot, screaming rage.
Leo lunges at the window and slams his fist into it so hard it cracks. Not enough to break the glass. Not enough to free him. But enough that the man startles and steps back.
And Leo starts to laugh. High and manic and unhinged even to his own ears.
"I'll kill you," he says, and his voice sounds almost joking, and yet- "I'll kill you. You're dead. You're dead, as soon as I get out of here, you're dead, I'll kill you, I'LL KILL YOU!"
The man has dropped the rest of his sandwich. He fumbles for his gun, left somewhere on a table to the side. For one satisfying moment, Leo sees a flash of genuine fear on the man's face.
"Shit," he says, his voice far away the further he gets from the microphone. "Pretty scary, frogboy."
Then he slams a button, and the window goes black, and Leo gets a glimpse of his own reflection.
His face is gaunt and drawn. His eyes are ringed by deep circles, so dark they look like bruises. His body is shaking like a leaf.
And his stripes...
His stripes are lit up like when he uses his ninpo, but they aren't their usual Neon Leon bright.
They're almost black.
Leo gasps and stumbles back just as the window goes white. The full body quakes he feels now aren't from the cold or the hunger or the exhaustion.
He turns and sinks onto the cot. Puts his face in his hands and tries to breathe. Tries to will his ninpo to stop rolling and snapping and to go back to normal.
This isn't what he wants. This isn't him.
This place is breaking him. He's letting it break him.
He pulls his legs up onto the cot and buries his face in his knees. Wraps his arms around them and rocks gently, the way Donnie used to do when things got overwhelming. Maybe he understands that better, now.
This isn't him. He's Leonardo, Neon Leon, the face-man, the jokester! The one who's always ready with a quip and a laugh. The one who can do anything!
Except portal out of his room. Except escape from this building. Except resist begging for a sandwich like he's a dog.
Leo's breath hitches, and for once he doesn't stop himself. He knows the guy outside is probably watching. He knows there are cameras recording this. He hates giving them the satisfaction.
But he's tired, and hungry, and he...
He wants to go home.
He cries, silently, until he's completely rung out.
-----
Maybe they aren't coming.
That's the thought that pops into his head, just a bit after the first water bottle of the day.
He knew they would have gotten a late start, because he stormed out. And he knew it would take them awhile to figure out who took him - he hadn't heard of the EPF before, so why would they? And he knew it would take them time to figure out where he had been taken, which must have been pretty far out if it's snowing outside. But the EPF got him here within a night, he's pretty sure, so unless they have a super fast jet, he must still be on the continent somewhere.
So... so surely they must have figured it out by now, right? Raph is leading the team. Donnie is doing science things. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative skills.
Unless they aren't coming.
Maybe... maybe it's true. Why would they want him back, after all? Leo took Raph's leader position, and since then all he'd managed to do was piss Raph off. Mikey and Donnie hadn't been happy about it, either, and he'd noticed that they'd been avoiding him more and more. April claimed she wasn't taking sides, but she always seemed to be on Raph's anyway. And Dad... well, he was probably disappointed that he made Leo leader only for him to do nothing and then get himself kidnapped.
He doesn't bring anything to the team. He doesn't bring anything to the family. And no one likes his jokes.
So. Maybe they just... aren't looking. Maybe they aren't going to come.
Maybe he's held out this long for no reason. Maybe he's been cold and starving for no reason at all.
Maybe it's time to give up.
---
Don't give up, says a new voice in his head.
You are not alone.
-----
He has no energy left to stand when Bishop comes. The man looks down at him, lips pressed into a thin line.
"You don't look well," he observes.
No shit, Leo wants to say.
"This has gone on long enough. Answer my questions, and we will provide you with food, clothing, and medical care."
The list is getting longer. Leo's fuzzy eyes stare up at Bishop. Medical care. Does he need that?
"You already know what I want to know." Bishop has a furrow between his eyebrows now. "Will you talk to me?"
He could. He could do it. He could finally have some relief from all the pain. All the hunger. All the cold.
But they might hurt the yokai in the Hidden City.
They might hurt Draxum.
They might hurt his family.
And maybe, if nothing else... if Leo could just keep his mouth shut, just this once...
Maybe that would finally make Raph, Dad, and everyone proud of him.
Maybe they'd finally trust him.
Maybe, at least, he can have that much.
Leo shakes his head.
Bishop scowls.
"Temperature down ten degrees."
-----
Leo isn't shivering anymore. That's probably a bad sign.
He can still see his breath, each time he exhales. It rises like smoke, before disappearing into the air.
He doesn't have any energy left, not even to chew on his new water bottles. He hasn't even collected the last two, and they sit crowded together in the slot, untouched.
He kind of wishes they had just dissected him from the beginning. It would have been faster. Freezing to death, he's decided, is a real zero out of ten. Starving to death isn't any better. No stars.
Even though the damn lights are still on, he feels extremely sleepy. It's probably the cold. He wonders what will happen if he brumates. He's never done it before, not like his little cousins, and he has no idea if it's even safe.
Probably not, given he has no calorie reserves left. All it means is he won't be drinking water, either.
But he's so sleepy.
It's going to be time soon for Bishop to come back. Leo doesn't know what the point is anymore. Maybe he'll just sleep through it. Yeah, that would really make him mad. And making Bishop mad is all he has at this point.
And he'll get to sleep. It's a win-win.
So thinking, Leo rolls himself over onto his belly. Then, one by one, he pulls his limbs into his shell.
He doesn't do this much anymore, not since he started growing. His body just doesn't seem to fit his shell like it should - a side effect of the mutation, probably. It's not really comfortable to be inside for long.
But Leo is sleepy. And his shell feels like the best place to be.
So he pulls in his legs, then his arms, and then, finally, his head.
It's not any warmer in here. But at least it's dark.
At least he's not shivering.
Leo sighs, content, and closes his eyes, and drifts to sleep.
-----
(Outside his cell, there's a bang, and shouting, and a gunshot.
The sound is muffled, and Leo sleeps on.)
-----
Part 1 (here) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Part A |
#rottmnt#rise leo#agent bishop#cw: psychological torture#dandy fanfiction#I want it to be clear that any time Leo is hearing “Mind Raph”#that's just his own inner voice manifesting#please don't be mad at Raph himself lol
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can I request a drabble or fic about Curtis sister getting bullied?
sigh. writing curtis!sister stuff is so nostalgic and personal to me. inside of me lives a thirteen year old girl who desperately wanted them to be my brothers. this is for little meimei <33
send me requests for the outsiders!
--
You'd been expecting Steve to pick you up from school, but there must have been a rush at the DX, because it's Two-Bit's creaky old car that chugs along the back street. That's fine too - you could use a laugh after today.
There's a certain level of teasing that you've come to expect because of your social status, but lately some of the older girls around school have made it their personal mission to go above and beyond the standard. Just today they'd begun making fun of the keychain attached to your bookbag- a mickey mouse pendant that had been a gift from Two-Bit himself. Stolen, of course, but not from just any corner store. No, that one had come from a big fancy Disney store, in a big fancy mall hours outside of Tulsa.
He'd been grossly proud of himself when he'd given it to you for your birthday, but according to those older girls, Mickey Mouse was for kids, and that made you one.
You'd tucked it safely into the front pocket of your bag, but Two-Bit notices its absence when you slide into the front seat like there's a neon sign advertising it.
"Hey, kid, where's the keychain?" He nods at your bag, "Did it break off already? Damn Disney, makin' cheap, lousy shit."
"No, it's- it didn't break." You settle into your seat, "I just- took it off."
Two-Bit's hands tighten slightly on the wheel, and he clears his throat, attempting to remain nonchalant.
"Oh. Any reason?"
You think you've hurt his feelings. He's quiet in a way that he usually isn't, and there's no trace of his signature brand of playfulness.
"It's not that I don't like it, Two." You reassure him, reaching over to brace your hand against his leg briefly. He glances at it, throwing you a smile, albeit a wounded one. "I just- I had it on my bag this morning, but then- I dunno, some girls were teasing me about it. I just wanted to avoid trouble."
You'd been attempting to relieve him of any hurt, but now he looks like he wants to hurt the girls you're talking about. He doesn't go to school very often, choosing instead to bum around at your house with a beer and a slice of cake. But you have a sinking feeling that he's going to have perfect attendance from now on, as your personal bodyguard.
"They're pickin' on you?" He asks, glancing over at you from the side of his eye as he tries keeping his focus on the road.
"It's not that bad," You lie, shrugging and reaching into your bag to put your keychain back where it belongs, displayed proudly on your zipper, "They're just high school bullies, Two. Don't worry about it. And don't- don't tell Darry. Please?"
"I don't know, kid." Two-Bit's jaw tightens, shifting as he turns a corner towards the east side of town, "I don't like this. No one should be picking on you. And not to brag, but I know how much you like that keychain. If it's bad enough for you to hide it..."
"It's not that bad, I just- I'm trying to make sure it doesn't get worse. I'm fine," You vow, but there's still a pool of dread in your gut whenever one of the girls' faces flashes in your mind.
"I'm comin' with you tomorrow to school," Two-Bit decides predictably, "And I'm gonna see it for myself, and if they're really layin' into you, I'm rallying the whole gang. Including your brothers. Let us help you, kid."
"No, please-? I don't wanna make it a big deal," You gush, "Two-Bit, everybody's stressed enough. Darry barely has any time to sleep, Soda's worryin' all day about Sandy, Ponyboy's gotta study or Darry'll be on him, just- I don't need to make things worse."
"You aren't makin' anything worse." He frowns, pulling over to the side of the road to turn towards you without the threat of crashing, "Those girls are. Listen, kid. Your brothers care about'cha. We all do. And all of us'd be happy to stick up for you. You know how much fun me 'n Steve would have rippin' into a bunch of mean girls?"
"Don't tell them yet." You insist, but you feel the sincerity of his speech, "Just- wait and see tomorrow. You'll probably scare 'em off anyways."
"I'll wear my best Mickey Mouse shirt," Two promises, his usual shit-eating grin now triumphantly returned to his face as he merges back into the road, "And by that I mean my only one- 'nless you count the old gym shirt my sister drew on."
--
You're nervous about walking back into school with the Mickey Mouse keychain hanging from your bag once more, but you're flanked by an unknowing Ponyboy on your left and a determined Two-Bit on your right, so you know no harm will come to you. Two-Bit is, in fact, wearing his Mickey shirt beneath his leather jacket, practically a dare for anyone to come and say something to him about you.
You think you're in the clear until the three girls you'd been cornered by the day before spot you, and neither Two-Bit nor Ponyboy notice their expressions, but you feel their gaze on the back of your neck. You're sure your keychain is bouncing around in plain sight from the movement of your stride, but with your two bodyguards around none of them dare to say anything.
Two-Bit drops you off at the door to your first class, raising his eyebrows knowingly but subtle enough that it slips past Ponyboy.
"'Kay. I'll meetcha here after class. Wanna sit with us for lunch, kid?"
You nod, thankful that he phrased it as an invitation so that Pony is none the wiser. In reality, you'd been planning on clinging to Two-Bit's leather jacket the entire lunch period. You're glad you have an excuse to do so, now.
You're lucky enough to have B-track classes today, which puts you in different groups than yesterday's A-track. It means that your only possible encounters with the three girls are in the hallways, but Two-Bit makes it impossible for anyone to pick on you by tailing you to each of your classes.
You think you've made it out alive- hopefully forever, by the end of the school day, and the ride home in Two-Bit's creaky little car feels miles better than it had the day before. Ponyboy's silent in the backseat, but that's usual for him, and you think nothing of it as you enjoy the ice cream that Two-Bit buys for the three of you.
It's when you're home that things really go downhill, sitting quietly around the dinner table when Ponyboy speaks for the first time all night.
"Y/N, why didn't'cha tell us you're getting picked on?" He raises the question quietly, but it's just for show- you know he's irritated, and Darry and Soda both straighten in their seats.
"What?" You feign innocence, digging your fork through the spaghetti on your plate, "What are you talkin' about, Pony?"
"These girls were talkin' about you in my history class." Ponyboy grumbles, and shit, you hadn't even considered the possibility of them sharing a class with your brother. You know he's smart for his age, that he was placed a year ahead of his grade level, but you hadn't connected the dots that they'd be in the same classes.
Darry's focus is on you now, but you know him and Soda are both still waiting for Ponyboy to continue. You avoid all three of their gazes, scrutinizing your spaghetti instead.
"They said they were planning on cornering you today. But they said since Two and I were with 'ya, they couldn't. Why didn't'cha tell us they were bothering you?"
Darry shifts forwards in his seat, more intimidating than he means to be. He's worried, you know that, but that's what you'd been trying to avoid.
"It's nothing serious, Pony." You try placating him, the whole table for that matter, "They're just mean girls. I'm handling it fine, really."
"They were talkin' about cornering you?" Darry finally speaks up, his voice unconsciously booming, "Y/N, I don't think you could've handled yourself then. Now I know you don't like makin' a scene but they could've hurt you. How many of 'em are there?"
"Three." You mumble, "Darry, I- I would've got out of it okay, really! They're real preppy, put-together girls, they probably wouldn't fight. Pro'lly just wanted to call me names or something."
"I don't want someone callin' you names, either." Soda frowns, his own plate forgotten as he focuses on you, "Did you tell a teacher about it?"
"No, it's- it's not that bad! Really, guys, you're overreacting. It's just high school drama. It sounds worse than it is."
"I don't like it." Darry decides, a note of finality in his voice that you're not happy about, "That ain't okay. And you know we'd back you up, kiddo. Pony, Johnny and Steve are there every day, and if you told Two-Bit, I'm sure he'd show up too."
"I did tell Two-Bit," You admit reluctantly, and rush to finish before your brothers get offended, "He got it out of me on the way home yesterday. That's why he came today, to make sure none of 'em got a hold of me."
"See, you do need a bodyguard," Soda reasons, leaning back in his chair, "Maybe I oughta take a day off from work. Drop you off tomorrow, give 'em the death stare or somethin'. If you want, I can have Dally tag along, that'll really scare 'em."
"No! No, don't take the day off, and- and don't show up! Especially not with Dallas," You groan, "This is why I didn't tell any of you guys. You have enough to worry about, you don't need to get involved in girl stuff."
Darry kicks your foot under the table, not hard, but reassuring, "Don't say that, kiddo. It ain't just 'girl stuff' if you're gettin' cornered at school. And we'd be more worried if you came home with a black eye. Now you let us all pick you up from school tomorrow, m'kay? Keep the boys with you, and Pony, keep an eye on those girls in class to see if they talk any more about Y/N."
"I will." Pony vows, and Soda finally relaxes, going for another bite of spaghetti at the same time that he tries speaking.
"Steve and I'll whip 'em if they act out," He promises through a mouthful of food, eliciting a sickened laugh from you, and two groans from your other brothers.
"Chew your food, Soda," Pony grimaces, and Darry elbows Soda unimpressed.
"Thanks, guys." You mumble, bashful for needing help but grateful your brothers are so willing to step into the ring for you, "It's- it's really not that bad but thank you for helping me anyways."
"Anytime, kiddo," Darry promises, a rare smile crossing his face, "Can't have the best of us gettin' beat up at school."
"Hey! The best of us?" Ponyboy glares at Darry, stabbing his spaghetti, "What happened to my big brains?"
"I dunno, I think you lost 'em when you fell from the top of the drive-in fence," You smirk at your youngest brother, still older but easiest to tease, "You hit the ground pretty hard."
Soda erupts into laughter at the memory, and Ponyboy continues his vicious assault on his dinner while Darry smothers a laugh, trying to keep the peace.
"But we mean it." Darry looks at you again, a hint of that former sternness crossing his face again, "If you need muscle, you got it. Ain't nobody gonna mess with my kid sister."
"'Specially not if Dallas shows up," Soda snickers, "Them girls'll go runnin' for the hills when they see him helpin' you in the car."
"Tell him to behave himself," You groan, "I don't need to be called into the office 'cause my brother's friend flashed a heater 'round the parking lot."
"He never behaves himself," Pony scoffs, "But if them girls are smart enough, they'll stay away from you before he has to get crazy on 'em."
"They'll stay away from you," Darry vows, and you believe him with the way the muscles in his strong arms flex as he leans forwards on the table, "Or they're gonna have to worry about somethin' worse than Dally."
#curtis!reader#darry curtis x reader#darry curtis x sister!reader#sodapop curtis x reader#sodapop curtis x sister!reader#ponyboy curtis x reader#ponyboy curtis x sister!reader#the outsiders x reader#two-bit mathews x reader#two-bit mathews x curtis!reader#curtis sister!reader
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Never Push the Ghost
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Summary: After six years of marriage to Simon “Ghost” Riley, you’ve learned to navigate his temper carefully, but today, you’re done playing it safe. What begins as a frustrated outburst over his bad habits quickly spirals into a charged confrontation, where tempers flare, boundaries are tested, and passions ignite. As the tension between you and Simon peaks, one thing becomes clear: he always knows how to handle you, even when you’re determined to push his limits.
Warning(s): P and V pentation physical restraint, including choking, pinning, dominance, power dynamics, punishment, consensual rough intimacy, emotional intensity, teasing, role-specific, minor injuries during physical interactions, Aftercare. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED
Reblog’s and feedback are appreciated. 18+ minors do not interact
After six years of marriage to Simon “Ghost” Riley, now 40 and still serving in the British SAS, you’ve learned to tread carefully around his temper. At Mid twenties, you’ve always been mindful not to push his buttons. But today? Today, you’d had enough.
It started innocently enough—his boots. Always in the way. You tripped over them for what felt like the hundredth time, and this time, the frustration boiled over. He was sitting there, unmasked for once, watching TV as if everything in the world was perfectly fine.
You snatched up his boots and hurled them toward him, voice sharp with irritation. “For fuck’s sake, Simon! Stop leaving your damn shoes everywhere. I keep tripping on them!”
His head turned slowly, disbelief flickering across his features as he rose to his full height. His imposing frame towered over you, and his voice, low and deliberate, sent a shiver down your spine.
���Did you just throw shoes at me?” he asked, stretching as he stepped toward you, his tone more curious than angry.
You squared your shoulders, refusing to back down. “Yeah, I did,” you shot back, your words laced with sass and defiance, despite the undeniable power he radiated.
He moves swiftly, his hand wrapping around your throat as your back meets the wall with a sharp thud. Your head connects with the surface, leaving a dull ache, but his thumb brushes against your bottom lip in a startlingly gentle contrast.
"You better be careful what you say next," he murmurs, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "If it’s not an apology, I don’t want to fucking hear it." With that, he releases you, his hand falling away as if daring you to challenge him.
Glaring up at him, you rub the back of your head, fury bubbling to the surface. “You literally made me hit my head on the wall,” you snap. “Fuck you, Simon.”
Spinning on your heel, you stomp toward the stairs, heart pounding. You make it halfway up when you hear it—the quiet, deliberate sound of him following you. His footsteps are almost too soft to detect, but you know him too well.
“Oh, shit,” you mutter under your breath, the realization sending adrenaline coursing through your veins. Without thinking, you break into a run, bolting up the stairs as fast as your legs will carry you.
You barely made it a step past the doorway to your shared bed when Simon closed the distance between you. With swift precision, he tackled you—not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to bring you down to the floor.
“Simon, stop it!” you protested, your palms landing on his chest in an attempt to push him away. But he didn’t budge.
“You want to be a fucking brat? Fine,” he growled, his voice low and steady as he pinned you effortlessly. His muscular legs straddled your hips, holding you firmly in place. “Then I’ll show you how brats are punished.”
Before you could protest further, his hand captured both your wrists, bringing them above your head in a single, controlled motion. His grip was unyielding but not cruel, a balance of dominance and restraint.
“Let me go!” you shouted, your legs kicking out instinctively, but it was no use. He was stronger, his weight and precision leaving you at a clear disadvantage. You glared up at him in his brown eyes, heart pounding as adrenaline and frustration warred within you.
Simon’s grip tightened just enough to make his point, his voice calm but unyielding. “I’ll let go when you stop acting like a child and throwing fucking shoes at people,” he said. With a swift motion, he rolled you onto your stomach, keeping control as he got to his feet, now towering over you.
You stayed there, catching your breath, until his next words broke the silence. “Take off your pants,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“Why?” you shot back, twisting your head to look at him.
His gaze was steady, unwavering. “Do it, or I’ll do it for you.”
Reluctantly, you complied, fumbling to unbutton and slide them off. Before you could ask what next, his voice cut through again. “Panties too.”
You hesitated, but the look he gave you made it clear he wasn’t asking twice. Sighing, you obeyed, sliding them off before he snatched both garments and tossed them down the hallway, the sound of fabric landing echoing faintly in the quiet room.
Without warning, his hands gripped your sides, lifting you effortlessly by your armpits. “Simon, what the hell?” you protested, but he ignored you, carrying you over to the bed.
He positioned you carefully, ensuring your body lay across the edge of the mattress, your hips and butt perfectly displayed for him. His grip was firm yet controlled, a calculated dominance that left you breathless. You squirmed, but it was no use—he had all the control.
Simon reached for his belt, pulling it from the dresser with a deliberate motion that made your breath hitch. He folded it over in his hands, the leather snapping sharply as he tested it.
“You’re going to count to 26,” he said, his voice calm but commanding. “And you better not forget what number you’re on. If you do, we start over.”
Before you could respond, the first strike landed on your bare cheeks with a sharp crack. A startled scream tore from your lips as the sting spread, your fingers instinctively clutching the sheets beneath you.
“...One,” you managed to gasp, voice trembling.
“Good,” he said, his tone almost approving, before bringing the belt down again. The sound and sensation mingled, sending a rush of heat and embarrassment through you as you clenched your fists.
“Two,” you whispered, bracing yourself for the next strike.
The pattern continued, each snap of the belt prompting you to grit your teeth and call out the next number, your voice growing steadier as the count rose. His measured strikes and unrelenting focus made it clear—he wasn’t stopping until you finished, no matter how much you squirmed or protested.
By the time the 26th strike landed, your body trembled, and tears streamed down your face, soaking into the sheets beneath you. The sting of each strike blended together, leaving you raw and overwhelmed. Between sobs, the apology tumbled out of you, sincere and desperate.
“I’m sorry, Simon,” you choked, voice shaky but genuine. “I’m so sorry.”
He immediately set the belt aside and knelt down beside you, his hands warm and steady as they guided you up into his arms. His chest was solid, comforting, as he wrapped you in his embrace. One hand gently rubbed your back, the other cradling the back of your head as he held you close.
“Shh,” he murmured, his tone soft now, the sharpness of his earlier discipline gone. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
His words soothed you as his touch anchored you, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you in the moment. He stayed with you, murmuring quiet reassurances until your tears slowed, your breathing evened out, and the tension began to melt away.
As your breathing steadied and your tears finally subsided, Simon leaned back slightly, his hand brushing gently over your cheek to wipe away the remnants of your tears. His voice softened, a teasing edge creeping into his tone.
“Do you want your reward now?” he asked, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver through you.
You blinked up at him, still catching your breath, his words cutting through the lingering haze of emotion. His thumb traced soothing circles on your shoulder, waiting patiently for your answer.
You nodded, the weight of the moment leaving you breathless. Simon didn’t hesitate. With practiced ease, he lifted you in his strong arms, carrying you to the middle of your king-size bed. He laid you down gently, his hands lingering on your sides as his eyes searched yours for any hesitation.
Pulling his shirt off in one smooth motion, his toned chest and arms were on full display, the raw strength in his movements evident. He reached for your legs, guiding them open as wide as they could go, his touch firm but careful.
Then, without warning, his mouth found your core, warm and commanding. The open-mouthed kiss sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, your back arching slightly as a soft moan escaped your lips. Your fingers instinctively tangled in his messy brown hair, gripping it as the sensation overwhelmed you. He hummed in response, the vibrations sending waves of warmth through you as he worked with unrelenting focus, every movement designed to unravel you completely.
Between gasps and the waves of pleasure coursing through you, a laugh bubbled up, light and breathless. You tugged gently at Simon’s hair, your fingers still tangled in his locks as you managed to speak through a moan.
“This is one of the reasons I married you, Si,” you said, your voice a mix of amusement and bliss.
He paused for a moment, glancing up at you with a cocky smirk, his lips glistening. “Is that so?” he teased, his voice low and rich, the warmth in his tone matched only by the glint in his eyes. “Guess I’ll have to keep proving you made the right choice.”
Before you could respond, he resumed his focus, his touch and attention reminding you exactly why you’d fallen for him in the first place.
As your body trembled under his touch, your voice came out in a breathy whisper, the words tumbling out between moans.
“Another reason is… you’re so good to me,” you managed, your fingers tightening in his hair as the tension in your body coiled tighter. “Even though I’m a brat sometimes… you still love me.”
Simon’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, a soft, almost tender smile playing on his lips even as he kept his focus. “Always,” he murmured against your skin, the vibration of his voice sending you closer to the edge.
His words, paired with the intensity of his actions, sent you spiraling, your climax crashing over you in a wave that left you breathless and utterly undone.
Simon stood, his movements deliberate as he shed his pants and boxers in one swift motion. His toned physique, now fully bare, radiated strength and confidence. His eyes roamed over your body, taking in every curve and detail as he leaned down, tugging your shirt off in a fluid motion, leaving you completely exposed beneath him.
Hovering over you, his warmth enveloped you as his lips captured yours in a deep, heated kiss. The intensity of the makeout session sent your head spinning, your hands exploring his firm chest before sliding down, wrapping around his sheer size. Your touch elicited a low groan from him, the sound rumbling against your lips as you slowly pumped him, feeling his weight and heat in your grasp.
Breaking the kiss, his mouth moved lower, finding your tightened nipple. He flicked it with his tongue before sucking gently, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. At the same time, the head of his cock teased your folds, sliding along your sensitive skin in slow, deliberate strokes, building anticipation with every movement. The combination of his touch and his skilled attention had your body arching toward him, craving more.
As the teasing continued, the overwhelming need to feel him took over. You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, trying to pull him closer and push him inside you yourself. The desperation in your movements made him chuckle low in his throat, his tone dripping with amusement.
“So impatient, love,” Simon said, shaking his head slightly as a playful smirk curved his lips. His hand moved to your breast, delivering a firm yet playful slap that made you gasp, the sting mingling with the pleasure coursing through you.
“You’ve got to let me enjoy this,” he teased, his voice low and husky as he leaned down to brush his lips against yours again. “I’ll give you what you want, but only when I’m ready.”
Simon took his time, exploring every inch of your body with a precision that left you trembling beneath him. His hands, lips, and tongue traced over your skin, drawing out sounds you didn’t know you were capable of making. He seemed to revel in your every reaction, taking his sweet time, teasing and testing you until your body was wound so tight it felt like you might snap.
What felt like hours later, when you were on the edge of begging, he finally positioned himself at your entrance. Without warning, he thrust into your core in one smooth motion, filling you completely. A sharp gasp escaped your lips, your back arching as the overwhelming sensation took hold of you.
“Finally,” you managed to whisper, your hands clutching at his back, nails digging into his skin as he stilled for a moment, letting you adjust to the sheer intensity of him. His eyes locked onto yours, a mix of satisfaction and desire flashing in his gaze.
“Worth the wait, wasn’t it?” he murmured, his deep voice sending another shiver through you as he began to move, setting a rhythm that left you breathless.
Your hands slid up to his shoulders, gripping him as you locked eyes with him, his big brown eyes dark with intensity. Your voice came out low but firm, trembling slightly with anticipation.
“Now choke me, Si,” you whispered, the request hanging heavy in the air between you.
His movements paused for just a moment, his gaze narrowing as he studied you. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, the edge of dominance returning to his expression.
“You really are a brat, aren’t you?” he murmured, his tone teasing but laced with that familiar authority. His hand moved up, brushing against your throat before settling there, firm but controlled, his thumb grazing your jaw.
“Say the word if it’s too much,” he said, his voice dropping lower, the weight of his care evident even in his commanding tone. When you nodded, his grip tightened just enough to leave you breathless, amplifying the sensation of everything else as he moved with unrelenting purpose, his eyes never leaving yours.
Simon’s grip on your throat tightened just enough to send a rush of heat through your body, amplifying every sensation. Without hesitation, he began thrusting into you rough and fast, each movement deliberate and powerful. The sudden intensity had you arching beneath him, your hands clawing at his back as wave after wave of pleasure consumed you.
Your cries and screams filled the room, raw and uncontrollable, mingling with his low, guttural groans. The overwhelming sensations blurred the line between pleasure and pain, leaving you trembling and completely at his mercy. Tears streamed down your face, not from distress but from the sheer intensity of the moment, your body responding to him in ways that left you utterly undone.
“Look at you,” Simon growled, his voice thick with desire as his hand on your throat loosened slightly, his thumb brushing against your jaw. “Screaming for me like this… you’re perfect.”
His words only heightened your arousal, your body tightening around him as the pleasure built to a breaking point. You could feel the tension coiling in your core, ready to snap as he continued his relentless pace, determined to push you completely over the edge.
Your second climax hit like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as the release came with a splash. Simon pulled out briefly, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the sight—your release coating his thighs, cock, and the bed beneath you. A proud, satisfied smirk spread across his face as he ran a hand along your trembling body.
“You really are full of surprises, love,” he murmured, his tone filled with a mix of amusement and desire.
Your body trembled uncontrollably, your mind still hazy from the intensity, but he didn’t give you a moment to recover. Without hesitation, he pushed back into you, filling you once again as he resumed his relentless movements. His pace was just as intense, if not more so, driving you higher despite the overstimulation.
“Not done with you yet,” Simon growled, his voice low and commanding as his hips snapped against yours. His hands gripped your waist, anchoring you in place as he continued to take you apart, determined to wring every last ounce of pleasure from your shaking form. The overwhelming sensations left you gasping, your mind spinning as he pushed you toward yet another peak.
Your body gave in entirely to the overwhelming sensations, trembling uncontrollably as you couldn’t stop squirting with each relentless thrust. The bed beneath you was soaked, your cries filling the room as overstimulation consumed you. Tears streamed down your face, the intensity leaving you shaking and gripping onto Simon like a lifeline.
Your nails dug into his back, leaving red trails and even drawing blood in your desperation to ground yourself amidst the overpowering pleasure. He didn’t seem to mind—in fact, your reaction only spurred him on. His groans grew deeper, rougher, as he chased his own release, his movements becoming erratic.
Finally, with a guttural growl of your name, Simon thrust deeply one last time, his release surging into your womb. His weight pressed against you as he buried his face into your neck, his breathing ragged and heavy. The warmth of his release filled you, and he stayed there for a moment, letting the intensity of the moment settle.
Still trembling, you clung to him, your body utterly spent. His arms wrapped around you protectively, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispered softly, “You’re incredible, love. Always.”
Your trembling arms wrapped around Simon’s neck, holding onto him tightly, as though letting go might make the world fall away. Your body shook with aftershocks, your breath uneven as you clung to him, seeking comfort in his warmth and strength.
Simon’s hands roamed over your back, soothing you with soft strokes and murmured reassurances. “It’s okay, love. I’ve got you,” he said gently, his voice low and comforting as he pressed a kiss to your temple.
Carefully, he shifted, pulling out of you with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the intensity you had just shared. A soft whimper escaped your lips at the sensation, but he was quick to gather you into his arms, cradling you against his chest.
“Shh, you’re okay,” he whispered, holding you close as he ran his fingers through your hair. His other hand rubbed soothing circles on your back, grounding you as he kept you wrapped in his embrace.
You buried your face in his neck, unwilling to let go, the scent of him and the steady beat of his heart calming the storm inside you. He stayed there with you, his presence steady and unwavering, letting you come down at your own pace, his love and care wrapping around you like a cocoon.
Simon held you close for a moment longer before his voice broke through the haze, soft but firm. “Love, we gotta get up,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “I need to clean you up… and we need new sheets,” he added, his gaze drifting to the mess between your thighs and the soaked bed beneath you.
You groaned softly, nuzzling into his neck, reluctant to let go. “Can’t we just stay like this a little longer?” you whispered, your voice still shaky.
He chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring as he gently stroked your back. “As much as I’d love that, we’re not exactly in the best condition to keep lying here.” His hand moved to your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. “Come on, love. Let me take care of you.”
With a soft sigh, you nodded, though your arms stayed loosely draped around his neck. He kissed your forehead before carefully helping you sit up, his hands steadying you as your trembling body adjusted. “Let me grab a warm cloth and something for the bed,” he said, placing a reassuring hand on your knee before moving to take care of things.
You stayed where you were, your legs still open, trusting him completely as he knelt in front of you with a warm, damp cloth. His touch was gentle as he began to clean you up, his focus intent on being as careful as possible.
A small whimper escaped your lips as the cloth brushed over your sensitive skin, and you looked down at him, your voice trembling. “Si, careful… I’m so sensitive.”
He glanced up at you with a soft, apologetic smile, his brown eyes filled with tenderness. “I’m trying, love,” he said gently, his voice calm and soothing as he continued his careful work.
His free hand rested lightly on your thigh, a grounding touch meant to steady you as he moved the cloth over you with deliberate precision. Despite your sensitivity, his care and attention helped you relax bit by bit, his patience and love evident in every motion.
“Almost done,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before finishing, ensuring you were comfortable and clean before setting the cloth aside. “There we go. All taken care of,” he said, his voice filled with quiet satisfaction as he stood, leaning down to kiss your forehead.
Simon froze mid-step, his eyes widening as realization struck. “Oh, fuck me,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
“What?” you asked, suddenly alarmed, your body tensing at his tone.
“Johnny,” he said, his voice tinged with exasperation. “He was supposed to be here an hour ago.” Grabbing his boxers, he quickly pulled them on and strode to the bedroom door, which had been open the whole time. Your stomach sank as you watched him leave.
In the living room, Simon stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted Johnny sprawled on the couch, his face a mix of mortification and sheer disbelief.
“Johnny,” Simon began, his voice low and cautious. “What did you hear?”
Without missing a beat, Johnny’s eyes darted to Simon, then quickly away, his ears turning bright red. “Everything,” he said, his voice flat and tinged with awkwardness.
Simon groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced over his shoulder toward the bedroom, then back to his visibly uncomfortable friend. “For fuck’s sake, Johnny. You couldn’t knock or announce yourself?”
Johnny shrugged, clearly struggling to maintain eye contact. “Didn’t think I’d need to, mate. Thought I’d be welcomed like usual—not treated to… that.”
Simon pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath, “Brilliant. Just brilliant.”
Annoyed that Simon hadn’t come back, you walked out of the bedroom, forgetting—or not caring—that you were still completely naked. The moment you stepped into the living room, Simon and Johnny’s heads whipped toward you, both sets of eyes widening in shock.
“Bloody hell!” Johnny exclaimed, immediately covering his face with his hands, though the damage was clearly done.
Simon’s reaction was instant and instinctive. Without saying a word, he bolted toward you, his expression a mix of frustration and protectiveness. In a flash, he scooped you up, throwing you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.
“Si!” you yelped, your fists lightly pounding his back in protest as he made a beeline for the stairs.
“Not a fucking chance I’m letting Johnny get another second of this view,” Simon growled, his voice low and clipped. He carried you back into the bedroom, kicked the door shut behind him with a firm thud, and set you down on the bed with an exasperated sigh.
“What were you thinking, love?” he asked, hands on his hips, though his tone was more amused than angry.
“I was wondering why you didn’t come back,” you replied with a shrug, though a flush crept across your cheeks.
“I wanted more cuddles, Si,” you say, pouting as you sit on the bed, watching him with big, pleading eyes.
Simon sighs, a soft smirk tugging at his lips despite himself. “You’re unbelievable, love,” he mutters, walking over and pulling you into his arms. “But I’ll give you all the cuddles you want—after I deal with Johnny.”
Simon strides back into the living room where Johnny is still sitting, clearly trying to process everything he’s just witnessed. Simon waves a hand dismissively. “Sorry about that, Johnny. Do whatever you want—I need to get back to Y/N. She wants more cuddles.” Without waiting for a reply, he turns to head back upstairs.
“Uh, LT,” Johnny calls out, his voice laced with concern and disbelief. “Your back is bleeding. What the hell did she do to you?”
Simon glances over his shoulder, smirking slightly. “It’s part of the territory, Johnny,” he says nonchalantly before disappearing upstairs, leaving Johnny sitting there, dumbfounded and speechless.
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#modern warfare 2#simon ghost riley#modern warfare x reader#modern warfare ii#modern warfare smut#simon ghost riley smut#john soap mactavish#johnny mactavish
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An Enticing Offer
・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *
Pairing(s): Lucien x reader
Warning(s): 18+, mdni, nsfw
Summary: Your roomate was a lot of things; kindhearted, hard-working, handsome... but, he was other things too. Messy. Maybe a little irresponsible. But, most of all -- deliciously, enticing.
SR’s Note: Oye... everytime I write smut, I feel nyyyyassty, LOL. Anywho, many thanks for @hardcoremarvelfan for the request -- I present to you, absolute Lucien filth using prompts #2, #12, #23, #71, and #74 from my promt request list. (; Enjoy.
Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)
・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *
The late afternoon sun streamed through the wide kitchen windows in your apartment, the golden glow illuminating the otherwise darkened space. Heaving the brown paper bag onto the small kitchen table, you sighed. Sure, an apartment that overlooked the Sidra was quite a luxury in your eyes -- but for the amount you paid each month to rent this place (well, paid half of), you'd sometimes wished they'd included curtains.
Add that to next week's grocery list. You kept forgetting to pick some up when you went to the market.
You began removing the miscellaneous items from the bag -- fresh vegetables, canned goods, that disgusting cereal your roomate requested -- and putting them away. When the mid-shelf in your pantry was full, you groaned in frustration; the top shelf was too high to reach, and your very tall, very able roomate would not be home until tomorrow.
Groceries on the table it is. And... maybe, a stepstool, added to next week's grocery run.
You were fortunate enough to secure a place like this, not to mention the roomate that came with it -- you'd met a few years ago and became fast friends, and living together seemed like a wise choice when you'd both finally abandoned your childhood homes.
A good choice indeed; having Lucien around brought you comfort, as you never liked being alone anyways. Not to mention, he was kind hearted, funny, and quite easy on the eyes. You tried to ignore the stir inside when he'd so casually walk around without a shirt on, or emerge from the bathroom in only a towel...
It was his place too, rather.
You groaned in frustration when you spotted the dirty pans on the stove, inspecting the residue on one as you picked it up.
If your roomate was one thing, it was messy.
"Lucien," you grumbled aloud. Tossing the pans into the dishwasher, you shoved it closed and turned on the wash cycle. How hard was that?
This happened quite often; Lucien, not cleaning up after himself. And you, trailing after him with a broom and dustpan.
You paused, listening for another soft sound over the rumble of the dishwasher. Straining your ears, you couldn't quite make it out -- the muffled, mubling sound over the running water.
Brows furrowing in confusion, a flicker of fear coursed through you. Sure, when Lucien was here, you'd never felt afraid in your apartment; but, since he'd left on a particularly gruelling mission only a few days ago, you couldn't help the irrational paranoia that made an appearance every so often.
Taking a timid step toward the hallway, you heard it again -- louder, this time. A soft, breathless sound amid the falling water. Your breath caught in your throat; someone was surely inside your home.
You walked faster, soft steps toward the bathroom door; sure enough. The water was running, and someone was inside.
Had he gotten home early?
"L-Lucien?" You squeaked. Your voice came out less confident than you'd hoped, and your hand shook as you reached for the doorhandle.
"Y/N... oh Gods, yes..."
Your outstretched palm halted. The voice was surely his, but what in the Hell was he doing in there?
"I'm... I'm coming in."
Your voice was barely above a whisper as you grabbed the doorhandle, twisting and shoving inside the small bathing room. Steam blasted against your face, and you coughed once as you waved it away.
The mumblings stopped.
And the shower curtain flew open.
The two of you shared a shout of shock as your eyes met, his face framed by his long, yet soaking, red hair. You both stared at one another in silent surprise for a beat, before both speaking at once.
"What the Hell are you doing here?"
"Why didn't you knock?"
The moment of clarity hits you, and Lucien wipes a hand over his dewy face.
"Y/N... by the Cauldron, why would you come in when I'm literally showering?" Your brows narrow, and you cross your arms over your chest. You don't miss him pulling the shower curtain in front of his body to cover himself -- but it's too late.
Your cheeks pinken.
"I... I didn't know, you were home, yet." You stammer, your cheeks deepening in color. "I heard someone in here, and you were still gone and-"
"And, what, you thought a stranger was using our shower?" Lucien chuckles. You feel your face heating even more, slight irritation bubbling beneath the surface as your friend seems to find this situation amusing.
"Well, I-"
He continues to laugh, raking a hand through his wet hair. Small droplets of water cascade over his shoulders, running down and over the exposed area of his pectoral muscles.
You huff. "If I must be perfectly clear," You glare. "I heard something going on in here other than just the shower." His eyebrows raise in an amused stare as his eyes scan over your face. Your very embarassed, face.
"Uh huh, and what do you think you heard?"
You huff, trying to look anywhere but him as his gaze intensifies.
"I-I thought you weren't even supposed to be home yet," you stammer, attempting to change the topic.
"Got back early," he deadpans. "I just can't believe you really thought it was anyone but me in here." He shakes his head, a small smile on his face.
"I suppose it's because of all the moaning and ... and, and words coming from inside this room." You try to remain confident, but falter as you notice his gaze lowering to your chest. Bad day to opt for a tank top.
"There's nothing wrong with relieving stress -- why is that so unbelieveable?" He quirks a brow.
You feel the familiar swirl inside your abdomen.
You swallow hard. "I guess... it was quite unbelieveable to think you'd be the one in here, saying, and... doing those things." He chuckles, and you catch sight of his erection pushing against the shower curtain. You quickly look away.
"More likely a stanger, than me, hm?" He tuts.
You gulp. "I suppose so."
Its quiet for an awkward moment, you trying not to stare at your half-covered gorgeous roomate as his eyes trail you up and down; so agonizingly slow.
"Y/N... you don't have to pretend to not stare." He chuckles. "In fact, you could join me-"
Your mouth opens in shock. "Lucien Vanserra! You're not seriously suggesting that--"
"Oh, I am." He grins, like a feline about to pounce on a little mouse. You shake your head in disbelief, the swirling in your stomach a full on tornado at this point.
You scoff, folding your arms over your chest once more. "What, you need me to help you?" You ask. He shrugs, moving to close the shower curtain. Taking a timid step forward, you begin to shrug off your shorts before thinking too long about it.
"Only if you're willing," he muses, his voice once again muffled by the cloth.
"What an enticing offer," you quip, glancing to the mirror at your reflection.
Your cheeks burn, the sensation in your abdomen becoming near unbearable. Were you really about to fuck your roomate? So many nights you'd spent together, doing seemingly harmless things; watching movies, reading together, preparing dinner.
Many of those nights, you went to bed with your hand between your thighs.
Pulling back the shower curtain lightly, you let out a nervous laugh as he came into full view. His back was to you, which made it easier to slip in behind him.
He turned, his eyes immediately wavering from your face to trace over every curve you had to offer. His bottom lip drew lightly between his teeth.
"Seems like you could use my help," you chatter, nerves propelling your mouth to move. "If you clean yourself as well as you clean your dishes-"
His hand gripped your waist, the other grabbing the back of your neck as he pulled you to him. His mouth crashed into yours, his lips moving and gliding along yours alike as he devoured your kiss. Your hands found his shoulders, gripping and tracing along the toned muscle there. It was only after his tongue had slipped in that you let out a soft moan, and he pulled back from you.
"Y/N... I-" His words were cut off as you reached between you two, gripping his hardened length that had been pushing against your stomach. His breath caught, and his eyes stared for only a moment where your hand held him before looking directly down into your eyes.
"Please..." he breathed out, his pupils blown wide with desire. You moved your hand up and down, how you'd fantasized doing many times before. You could feel him hardening more in your hand, and he reached one of his hands up to play with your nipple. You gasped, and he leaned back against the shower wall as you sped up your minstrations.
"I... I... oh Gods, Y/N," he breathed out. His other hand reached behind you, his fingers pressing into the curve of your ass where it met your thigh. You smirked, looking up at him in this state.
"You, what, pretty boy?" His eyes opened as he looked to you, doe-eyed and putting on a show. "Can't even finish a sentence as I jerk you off, hmm?"
His brows furrow, his teasing from earlier seeming to finally catch up with him. His one hand leaves your butt, gripping your wrist that pumps him; the other one clasps your throat.
"Don't act so innocent," he growls, and you clench your thighs, his tone sending a wave of heat straight to your clit.
"Get on your knees."
You make quick work of lowering yourself onto the shower floor, the warmed tile pressing against your knees as you sit back on them. His hand grabs your hair in a makeshift ponytail, forcing you to look up at him. His free hand yanks on his erection -- a sight worth salivating over.
"Open that fuckin' mouth."
Happy to oblige, you open, laying your tongue out flat for him to see. He groans, his fist pumping his dick faster.
You lean forward, your tongue meeting the bottom of his length as he removes his hand. You replace it with your own near the base, holding him steady as you lick a fat stripe along his cock. Continuing your teasing, you trace your tongue along the vein running from the base to his tip; all the while lightly circling your hand at the bottom.
"Mmmm... 'love the way you taste," You groan, and gasp when he grabs your head with both hands.
"Don't... stop, the teasing," he pants, pushing your ehad closer to his throbbing dick. You take one breath before shoving it in your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat.
"Fuck," he grunts, as you start moving forward and back along his angry length. You hollow your cheeks, sucking him hard as his hips start thrusting against you.
"Mhm... fuck, Y/N, taking it so good," he groans, his grip on your hair tightening. You move quicker, his hips fucking his cock into your mouth harder and harder -- so hard you gag. He throws his head back with an unrestrained moan, and you gaze up at him through your tear-filled eyes. The sight of him, so vulnerable and needy like this...
You reach your free hand between your legs, your fingers finding the buzzing bundle of nerves near your core. He looks down at you once more, his length twitching inside your mouth.
"Yes... yes, play with that pussy," he gasps, his eyes squeezing shut as he tries to prolong his orgasm. "Fuck... oh, fuck-"
He yanks your hair, pulling your mouth flush against his pelvis as he releases, hot spurts of cum coating the back of your throat. You cough as he gasps, yanking his dick out of your mouth before leaning down to grab your jaw hard.
"Swallow all of it."
You do, gulping before gasping for air. He leans back against the shower wall, smirking at you as he offers a hand to help you up. You reach up, positioning the showerhead so the water hits you directly.
Bathing in the warmth for a few minutes, your breath quickens as your roomate reaches for you, his deft fingers tracing along the curve of your waist before one reaches your throbbing core. Your breath hitches, and you grab onto his shoulders as he looks to you with pure lust in his eyes.
"Lucien..." you say breathlessly. "You... you already came-"
"Mhm," he says, his tone low as he presses a kiss just below your ear. "But you didn't."
・゚: *✧・゚:
#a court of thorns and roses#acotar#a court of silver flames#acosf#a court of frost and starlight#lucien vanserra#lucien acotar#acofas#lucien x reader#acotar smut#acowar#a court of mist and fury#a court of wings and ruin#lucien smut#pro lucien#vanserra brothers#lucien vandaddy#read more
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𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐒
includes: teasing, suggestive coversation, smut
i walked through matts door and i watched him as he scrolled mindlessly through his phone, once he noticed my presence he practically dropped his phone and marched over to me “fuck” he said kissing me.
I kissed him back immediately, my hand finding his hair, tugging at it slightly which caused a groan to escape his throat, my smirk making him kiss me harder.
my hands snake over his waist and he breaks the kiss grabbing my hands and pinning them above my head and leans into to kiss me again, the new vulnerable state making me even more wet.
after a few minutes he released our mouths and my puffy lips were already craving his again.
“go sit on my desk pretty girl” he tells me and i happily oblige and i prop myself on the desk, he finds his way between my legs and i whimper softly as i feel his hard cock pulsing against me through his pants.
“you look so pretty on the table with your legs spread for me” he tells me and i bit my lip and moan out softly at his words and he chuckles “you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now” he says in my ear and i pull him closer with my legs “how bout you show me?” i smirk and he kisses me
i play with the hem of his shirt and his eyes meet mine and he tilts his head “all you gotta do is ask baby” he says with a smirk and i roll my eyes “take your shirt off baby, please” i ask, trying to mask my desperate tone and i watch as his toned arms rip the shirt off his body so effortlessly.
i kiss his neck and run my hands up his stomach and chest and he lets out shameless moans as i nibble at his neck “keep doing that-fuck” he groans.
i lick a stripe up his neck and his hands grab at my waist “can i ask you a question?” he askes me and i meet his eyes “of course” a small smile flashes his face before it’s replaced with a mischievous look.
“you know those shorts you’re wearing?” he asks and i cant suppress the smirk that forms on my face “im aware of them”
“they leave nothing to the imagination you know? they’re so tiny and short” i let out a soft hum at his words “then you might as well take them off” i wink at him and i feel his cock press against me again “ i like how you think baby”
i lift my hips for him and he pulls down my shorts and my panties at the same time, i gasp as the cold air pricks at my skin and he looks as if he’s in a trance as he takes in the sight of my body.
he pulls off my shirt that exposed my fully naked body and i heard as he whispered “fuck” under his breath “god you’re breath taking” he says kissing me while he unzips his pants and pulls them down along with his boxers.
he pulls me even closer to him and he rubs his cock up and down my slit, teasing at my clit before slowing sinking into me, his lips capturing mine for a peck while he slides all the way into me, a gasp followed by a moan escape my throat.
once hes all the way inside me he groans out and grabs under my legs for a better angle and pounds into me, hitting that sweet spot immediately.
“oh fuck!” i cry out, my fingers digging into his back, holding on for dear life as his tip grazes my cervix.
my pussy squeezes his cock and the most lewd sounds escape his mouth.
tears prick my eyes at the overwhelming pleasure as i practically scream as he continues to fuck me, my head falling onto his shoulder for some sort of support.
moan after moan racks through my body and i feel as the desk shakes under us, slamming against the wall.
“look at me pretty girl” he tells me, gritting his teeth to suppress his moans and i listen to him, my glistening eyes meeting his “you look so fucking-beautiful like this, all fucked out for me, god” the sound of our skin slapping together fills the air as it quickens
“im-gonna come” he tells me and i whine out a hum “me too-fuck babyy” i moan as my head swings back my body on fire as his cock slides in and out of my sopping pussy at an alarming rate.
i feel as his hips stutter and the coil in my stomach unravels and i scream out, clinging onto him and i gush around him, him following with a few grunts before he releases inside of me.
he kisses my cheek and my neck before sliding out of me, our come mixing together as it pools between my legs on his desk “fuck i love you” i tell him
“i love you more baby, you and those damn shorts”
IM BACKKKKK
#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo#smut#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x you#sturniolo x reader
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♪ — 𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗧𝗢, 𝗕𝗘𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗗 sebastian vetteln x fem! reader ( fluff ) fic summary . . . In which a bus stop acts as a way-point for two idiots who are madly in love.
( master list | more of sebastian vettel ) ( requests )
put my blood and sweat into this, took me so long to write, enjoy
tagging my #1 sebastian fan @forza55
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
2006
rain was always so calming. A constant in your life. The raindrops would follow one another and make a pitter patter noise as they landed on the earth, weather on the ground, leaves, or in water again.
You could hear it loud and clear despite your headphones and icecap covering your ears. You weren't listening to music, but rather had the music instrument to divert anyone from talking to you. The bus stop was not too crowded, and the same people every Wednesday huddled under the stop's shelter like fish in a bucket.
Your face, of course, was buried in your book. What else would you be doing? Flipping the page as you glanced at your watch. 2 more minutes, you sighed.
"Excuse me." You snapped your head up, looking at the drenched blond that stepped under the ran protective roof. "Did bus, 38 leave yet?" He was panting, one hand on his knee as he looked up at you. You?
You were taken aback by his eyes, looking around to see if he he was taking to anyone else, but no, his blue eyes were on you. "I um -" You took a headphone off to be polite. "No, it should be, oh yeah, turn around." Just in time, you bit the inside of your lip as the blond gave you a thankful smile.
The people from the bus top filed in, taking a seat and resuming their activities. You decided to stand. Someone else could need your seat more than you do. And apparently, someone also thought the same thing, but he wasn't used to the bus's immediate halts.
Standing a few feet behind you was a bad idea because with the wet floor and sudden red traffic light, you found yourself catching Sebastian Vettel from slipping down on the floor and taking him with you.
Those blue eyes were too big for his head, scratch that. They were perfect. The amount of time the two of you spent with your arm hooked around his waist and him holding onto the handle above to catch his balance, was enough for you sketch the beauty he was in your head.
"Sorry." "It's okay." You dismissed, with a polite smile, helping him stand up straight. "Maybe you should sit down." "Eh, someone else might need it more than me." He said hesitantly, shrugging. The smile on your face widened, and features softened. His did too, seeing the elegant moon in your eyes shine on him with what he could describe as a gentle goddess giving a flower to a loyal worshipper.
"I'm Sebastian." "Y/N."
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
2007
No one ever sits on the chair beside you. When the seats were vacant and you sat down, it'd be just you. But today, a familiar face returned. After only appearing for two weeks, you finally get to see the blue eyes and fluff after a year.
"Whatcha reading?" He asks, looking down at your book. A smile shined on your face as you closed the pages to show him the title. "Just light reading." You hummed quietly, glancing up as the bus arrived.
You stood together on the bus, catching up on recent events. Which included him getting a "promotion" at his job. You kind of got into that topic more, you learned that his job took him to travel the world, and that included being here in Canada for a week every year, Thursday to Sunday.
Only, today was Monday. And last year when he visited he stayed for three Thursdays: three weeks, triple the time he should. You didn't ask about that, maybe it was just personal, or he had family here. You didn't ask what his job was either since he didn't disclose it on his own. You sure it was just a big fancy company that was related to computers and cyber tech since they were big things at this time.
When you got off with Seb at your stop, the both of you decided to stop at a café before plopping down on the couch in a corner in the grand library. Your hands were too busy holding the warm paper cup you didn't realize that Sebastian was leading the way. His hand on the small off your back, pulling you from your shirt to stop you at a cross walk ( red goers dead goers ) or walking on the outside of the street so it was safter for you to sip on your hot chocolate in peace.
The noon was spent peacefully, sitting beside each other, noses in books. Sebastian had such a calming presence, you even laid your head on his shoulder and watched him go through books about motors and cars ( which you found terribly cute ).
The week continued like usual, with seb having to leave early from Thursday to Saturday. On Monday he stayed long enough to take you out to lunch. The two of you sat at a nice dinner overlooking St. Lawrence river, and later you had a nice walk along the water body, linking arms together.
You spent the rest of the day with him, all the way back to the bus stop long after the sun had set. "Are you staying far from here?" You asked, brushing some hair from his eyes gently. He shrugged looking out at the illuminated streets. "I'm German, a walk is a walk." You couldn't help but chuckle as he pointed at his inflated chest proudly.
"I'll . . . see you tomorrow morning?" He asked hesitantly as he started walking away backwards slowly, looking at you. You nodded, a wide sile on your face as you walked in the opposite direction, backwards as well. "Get hoe safe." "You too."
But for whatever reason. He wasn't there in the morning. He usually makes it just two minutes before the bus. But today, you had to ride all alone. You had to sit all alone in the library too, and buy hot chocolate on your own too. Wednesday was like that as well, and Thursday as follows. And on Sunday, as you sat at the cafe, blowing hot air in your palms to warm yourself up when your ear caught a familiar name on the television.
"And eighth on his debut, the nineteen year old Sebastian Vettel standing in for the injured Robert Kubica scores one point for BMW."
Your Sebastian Vettel just scared a point in the pinnacle of motorsport?
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
2008
Your smile is wide as you watch the blond arrive. You scootch over in your seat since the other one was taken and immediately Seb takes a seat beside you. "Mr. Vettel, would you be so kind to sign my shirt?" You joke, and when he looks as the top you're wearing he almost burst into laughter, putting his face in his hands.
"There's this store that sells merch, I thought it looked good." You shrug, nudging him. "Oh my god." He wipes his eyes looking at it. "Who's that?" He points to the shirt you were wearing, new Torro rosso merch with the new driver. "You don't know Sebastian Vettel?" You gasp, putting your hand on your chest in fake and dramatic offence. "He's the next World Champion." "Really?" "Oh yea, for sure. Maybe not this year or the next. But he'll do great one day."
"I was hoping to know, do you think Sebastian would be able to invite this friend of his to the race on Sunday." "I don't know, I'll have to check. I'm sure he'll be intent on bringing her to all of the races if she says yes." "She says yes."
university can wait.
It can wait till after Seb's first home grand prix, hugging him tightly after the race. Till after you go out with him that after party to dance all night. It can wait till the two of you cakesmash each other the next morning then laugh your asses off as you struggle to clean up.
university can defiantly wait till after a trip to Italy. Sitting at a very expensive restaurant and eating pasta despite dietary restrictions. It can wait sightseeing and museums. And most defiantly wait till after Sebastian's first win. After he kisses you post celebration and post podium, sharing the bottle of champagne
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
2009
"That was beautiful, amour." [love] you smiled as Sebastian finally reached you. This year round, both of you were wearing red bull branded clothes, while seb wore the race suit, you wore the kit.
"I'm pretty sure you should look in a mirror because you're much more beautiful." The German joked, sharing a quick kiss with you. Christian could see the look of pride and admiration on your face as Sebastian hopped on the top pedestal for the Chinese grand prix. And of curse, as anyone in your places would, you blew kisses to each other.
"Its a pretty trophy." You hummed once you got a hold of it after the podium ceremony. The garage was still hype from the win, and you couldn't deny that your heart was hammering in your chest still. "It is." Adrian newey, your boss nodded looking between you and sebastian who was chasing his mechanics with the bottle of champagne.
"This is going to be a nice year. A very nice year." You hummed to yourself, feeling yourself smile watching your lover laugh. He looked at you with his eyebrows raised. And before you knew it, he was chasing you up and down the pitlane. Safe to say the skirt you were wearing was not helping you and you were eventually sticky and sweet.
"Let me taste." Seb held your waste, leaning in for a kiss. You managed to pull away, blushing and pushing on his chest playfully. "The whole world will see us." You scolded, folding your arms shyly. You were, after all, in the pitlane, any fan or journalist or camera could see and forever etch the moment into the internet.
"Let them see, let the world know that you're mine and I'm yours."
"You cheeky bastard."
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
2010
"Shhhh." "Let me seeee!" "Shhhh!" You shushed him even harder, pushing him away from his face. "I'm working." You scolded, slightly smacking his chest.
Pre season was almost here, and you were finishing up the design to the RB6. Moving from Montreal to London for the job was a big change. Although you weren't able to graduate university with your planned engineering degree, you were talented and gifted enough to score a designer position with Red bull racing.
Adrian Newey supervised over you and saw you as a skilled individual. You were able to preform well, abiding within the rules of F1 to create extraordinary work. Well, you work fine when Sebastian is not at your neck trying to look at the blueprints for the RB6.
"Oh come on, Let me see what you're going to be putting me in. I'm going to drive it anyways." You shook you head to yourself. As soon as you stopped holding Seb away from his chest, he had immediately put his nose in all your work and notes asking questions and making pointers even though the man never learned anything in university about any of this.
"Make it super fast." He tells you. You couldn't help but chuckle at his antics. "I don't make the car fast. The driver does." You joke getting up. "besides, I can already tell, we've bagged this season." You breath out happily kissing his cheek as you pass him to go to the kitchen.
"I like the way you think." He smirked following you, leaning his forearms on the kitchen counter, watching you as you skimmed through the fridge for something. "You hungry? We can go out." He offered, pushing himself up and coming up from behind you, hugging your waist and searching with his eyes through the content of the fridge same way you did.
"I don't know . . . I'm craving gâteau, tiramisu maybe? I don't know. Sugar, something sweet." [cake] You sighed in thought. "Do you wat something sweet?" you looked back at him only to see his cute smile and his blue gorgeous eyes on you.
"I have my infinite share of sweetness." You raised a brow confused at his words, only to be answered by his lips pressing on yours. "Why would I want anything cake or gâteau," he mocked, "when I have you?" "verry funny, seb." you chuckled, playfully rolling your eyes only to be met with another kiss.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
You were stressed, very stressed. after the car had preformed well and met your expectations during testing, it did not deliver well enough not in the first race with Alonso had won nor the second race in which Sebastian had to retire. mark in the other seat wasn't doing any better with 8th and 9th, which were yes in the points, but not in the championship.
Sebastian had taken pole during both weekends, the first race in Bahrain where his car lost power in the last few laps and the second race in Australia where the brakes failed due to mechanical issues. And it all felt like it was your fault. Like you didn't put enough effort in the car at the beginning in the season, like you costed a beloved new family and team money and a championship.
The stress and nerves wouldn't leave you, sitting on the pit wall as you watched the lights turn red one by one. Webber is on pole this time with seb in the second row with p3. chewing your pencil, you counted down till the lights went out, eyes on the screens in front of you displaying important specs that would help you with possible outcomes and opportunities for strategies.
Your heart almost jumped out of your chest as the drivers pressed on the throttle for the Malaysian grand prix. with your note book in hand and pen between your fingers, you began scribbling and planning and thinking.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Your heart hammers in your chest as Sebastian crosses the finish line first. You hardly register the cheers around you as you push through the crowd, your feet carrying you to parc fermé on pure instinct. There he is—Sebastian, climbing out of his car, arms raised in triumph, the kind of smile that could light up the entire paddock plastered across his face.
“Seb!” you call out, your voice cracking with emotion. His head whips around, and the moment his eyes land on you, he opens his arms without hesitation.
You throw yourself into him, gripping him so tightly you're not sure where he ends and you begin. The smell of sweat and champagne clings to him, but you don’t care. All that matters is the way he holds you back, his joy infectious.
“You did it,” you whisper, your voice shaky. “You actually did it.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he replies, his words soft but weighty, his voice muffled against your hair. And for a fleeting moment, it feels like the world belongs to the two of you.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The words echo in your ears, muffled yet unmistakable: “Du bist Weltmeister!” It feels surreal, like you’ve stepped into a dream. The grand prix is over, and yet your heart races faster than it ever did during the race.
Sebastian’s disbelief mirrors your own as he clambers out of his car, shaking his head in wonder before he sees you. You barely have time to brace yourself before he’s pulling you into another bone-crushing hug, his breath coming out in a stuttering laugh against your shoulder.
“We did it!” he exclaims, his voice thick with emotion.
“No,” you correct him, though your voice cracks from the tears threatening to spill. “You did it, Seb. You’re the world champion.”
Later, on the podium, Sebastian lifts the constructor’s trophy beside you, his smile splitting his face as the crowd roars. When the champagne sprays, you barely have time to duck before he turns the bottle on you, his laughter blending with yours in the chaos. It’s a moment frozen in time, one you’ll replay over and over in your mind.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
2011
Moving into the Milton Keynes apartment had been his idea. Despite his Monaco residence, Sebastian had insisted that being close to you—and the team—mattered more. The apartment wasn’t much, but it became home.
You’d cook dinner together, sometimes burning the pasta because you were too busy teasing each other. When you weren’t at the factory or the track, you were exploring cities together, summer and winter breaks filled with spontaneous vacations. Hiking in the Alps, sipping espresso on cobbled streets in Rome, or lying on the beaches of Ibiza—it was always the two of you against the world.
It was simple. It was perfect. Until it wasn’t.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
2014
The tension had been building for weeks. Every race felt like a battlefield, but not just for Sebastian on the track—it had seeped into the small apartment you shared, turning it into a minefield neither of you seemed able to navigate. The car wasn’t competitive, the championship slipping further out of reach with every race weekend. It gnawed at him, at both of you, but Sebastian wasn’t used to losing.
That night, it all came to a head.
“I’m giving everything I have!” he snapped, pacing across the narrow living room, his hands tugging at his hair. His voice was sharp, louder than you’d ever heard it before, echoing against the walls. “Do you think I want to be stuck fighting for fifth?”
You flinched, his frustration rolling off him in waves, but you stood your ground. Crossing your arms, you swallowed the lump forming in your throat. “I never said that, Seb. But you’re shutting me out! How am I supposed to help you if you won’t even let me in?”
He stopped mid-stride, turning to face you with a look that made your stomach twist. His lips parted, and for a moment, you thought he might say something to ease the blow, to let you in the way you were begging him to. But then, the words came out like a slap:
“Maybe you can’t help!”
The air in the room went heavy, suffocating. Your breath hitched as the weight of his words settled in your chest, sharp and cutting. You stared at him, waiting for him to take it back, to soften the edges of what he’d just said. But he didn’t. He just stood there, his chest rising and falling, his eyes darting away from yours.
“Okay,” you said finally, your voice quiet, strained. It was all you could manage.
Sebastian exhaled sharply, dragging his hand down his face, but he didn’t say anything. No apology, no explanation. And somehow, that was worse.
The rest of the night passed in silence. He retreated to the bedroom, the door clicking shut behind him, while you sat alone in the dimly lit living room, staring blankly at the coffee table. The tension was still there, like an invisible wall between you, and you knew—knew—that this wasn’t just about the car. It was about everything.
By mid-season, you couldn’t take it anymore. The team’s focus was shifting, Sebastian’s frustration was mounting, and your own heartbreak was becoming unbearable. You handed in your resignation at Red Bull with trembling hands, the words barely audible as you told Christian you were leaving.
Porsche’s hypercar program was a lifeline. It wasn’t just about stepping away from the team—it was about stepping away from Sebastian, from the version of him you didn’t recognize anymore. You threw yourself into your work, finishing your master’s degree with a kind of single-minded determination that bordered on obsession. A PhD followed, and so did your work alongside Mark Webber.
But even as the years passed, the sting of that night, of those words—Maybe you can’t help!—never truly faded. They echoed in your mind at the most unexpected times, in the quiet moments when you let your guard down. You told yourself you’d moved on, but deep down, you knew part of you was still in that small apartment in Milton Keynes, staring at the man you once thought you’d never lose.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
2024
The Porsche garage hummed with activity—mechanics adjusting tools, engineers poring over screens, the air filled with the familiar scents of fuel and rubber. It was a controlled chaos you thrived in, but when Sebastian walked in, the rhythm faltered, like someone had pressed pause on the world.
You looked up, drawn by an instinct you couldn’t explain. He stood just inside the doorway, his gaze scanning the room until it landed on you.
Time seemed to collapse, the years between you vanishing in an instant. He looked... different. His features had sharpened with age, a faint streak of silver glinting in his hair, but his eyes—those striking, unyielding eyes—remained the same.
For a moment, neither of you moved. The noise of the garage dulled to a murmur, replaced by the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.
Finally, you smiled, forcing yourself to break the spell. “Good seeing you again, Seb.”
Your voice was steady, but your extended hand trembled slightly. He stepped forward, taking it in his. His grip was firm, grounding, and the touch lingered longer than it should have.
“Yn,” he said, your name a quiet acknowledgment, a memory resurrected.
The handshake ended, and with it, the fragile bubble of familiarity. You withdrew, your professionalism snapping into place like armor, but the warmth of his palm against yours stayed, a phantom sensation.
Later, you stood at the pit wall, your headset snug over your ears as you stared at the monitors in front of you. Rows of data scrolled across the screens—lap times, tire degradation, telemetry—all of it meant to hold your focus. But no amount of numbers could drown out the echo of Sebastian’s voice when he’d said your name.
Out on the track, the Porsche glided through the apex of a turn, sleek and powerful under Sebastian’s control. His voice crackled through your headset, cutting through your scattered thoughts. “Car feels good.”
It was measured, professional, but you caught it—that faint hesitation, the undertone of something unresolved.
“Copy that,” you replied, gripping the edge of the console until your knuckles whitened. Your voice was clipped, businesslike, but it felt like a mask too thin to hold. “Let’s push for one more flying lap.”
Sebastian’s car roared down the straight, his hands tightening around the wheel. He leaned into the motion of the car, each turn precise, his instincts still razor-sharp. But beneath the surface, his mind was a storm. Every shift of the gears felt weighted, every flick of the wheel a reminder of how much had changed—and how much had stayed the same.
Inside the garage, the silence between radio updates was deafening. You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to focus on the present. But every beep of the telemetry felt like a heartbeat, syncing with the one pounding in your chest.
When Sebastian finally returned to the pit lane, you stepped back, giving him space as he climbed out of the car. For a moment, his eyes found yours again, a flash of something unspoken passing between you.
The handshake earlier had been a bridge—a brief moment of connection—but now, standing apart, the gap between you felt impossibly vast. Neither of you moved to close it.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The bus stop was dimly lit, the flickering streetlamp above casting fleeting shadows on the damp pavement. A cold breeze tugged at your coat, sneaking past the fabric to nip at your skin. You tucked your hands deeper into your pockets, rocking on your heels to stay warm.
The sound of an engine broke through the quiet, low and familiar. Headlights curved around the corner, slowing as they approached. You turned, squinting into the glow, and recognition struck before the car even stopped.
Sebastian’s car.
He rolled down the window, leaning over with an easy grace that looked so natural, like no time had passed. His gaze found yours, soft and warm, but carrying something you couldn’t quite place.
“Need a lift?” he asked, voice steady but tinged with something almost hesitant.
A smirk tugged at your lips as you stepped closer, the teasing retort slipping out effortlessly. “Are you my 39 North today?”
His chuckle was low, the kind that felt like the rumble of a car engine in your chest. “Only because you’re my favorite passenger.”
Without hesitation, you opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, the faint scent of leather and something distinctly Sebastian enveloping you. As you buckled up, you glanced at him, taking in the way his fingers rested on the steering wheel, tapping lightly in an unconscious rhythm.
“Still driving like you’re on the autobahn?” you teased, adjusting the seatbelt.
He cast a sidelong glance at you, a small smile playing at his lips. “I could say the same about you. You were always terrible at staying in the slow lane.”
You laughed, the sound breaking through the quiet tension that had settled between you both. As the car pulled away, the city lights painted streaks across the windshield, and for the first time in years, the silence felt comfortable.
Like maybe, just maybe.
#‧˚⊹🪴 ଓ :: 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 ‧₊˚⤾#SV5#rbr!seb#Sv5 x reader#rbr!seb x reader#sebastian vettel x you#sebastian vettel x reader#red bull sebastian vettel#sebastian vettel oneshot#sebastian vettel fanfic#sebastian vettel fluff#sebastian vettel imagine#formula 1#formula racing#f1#h f1 fanfic#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fluff#f1 fics#formula one x you#formula one x reader#formula one x y/n#young!seb
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Landoscar- Losing your bags at the airport (1.7k words)
Hello all! This is based off that one tweet about Lando losing his bags at the airport and Oscar staying with him. Disclaimer- I know nothing about airports, all of this was google searched stuff, so go easy on me. (I made it an American airport because dealing with a language barrier was too complicated lol) It's mostly fluff, but I suppose a bit of angst?
Also, this is my first fic I'm posting online, so please be kind ❤️
Lando sighed loudly, blowing hair out of his face as he exhaled. He wasn’t the biggest fan of airports by principle. They’re boring, the lines are long, and the whole thing seems so much bigger than it needs to be. But it’s kind of a necessary part of his job, so he’d mostly gotten used to waiting for stupid amounts of time at airports.
But this is just kinda ridiculous. He and Oscar had been waiting for Lando’s suitcase to show up at baggage claim for… well he didn’t know how long it had been, but it was longer than he’d ever had to wait before. Even worse, Oscar’s bag had practically been the first to get dumped out onto the carousel, because of course it had. They were going to the hotel together, so Oscar was staying with him. The Aussie was on his phone, sitting on his suitcase and texting someone. Lando hated the silence, so he tore his eyes away from Oscar’s gorgeous side profile and yawned.
“This is taking foreverrr,” he said, stretching from his place crouched on the floor.
“It’s been ten minutes,” Oscar corrected, not once looking up from his phone.
“Screen-ager,” Lando decided to retaliate. Oscar looked up now, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment clear on his face. Lando looked back to the baggage carousel, satisfied by getting a reaction out of the younger man.
Oscar cleared his throat. “How about we just wait a few more minutes and then go to the baggage desk.”
“Huh?”
“The baggage desk. Where you go if you lose your luggage. It’s right there.” He pointed, and sure enough, back against the wall and a few carousels down was a little front desk-looking thing, with neon letters spelling out ‘Baggage Desk’ above it.
“Oh,” Lando mumbled, adjusting his hat.
“I’ll just tell Zak we’ll be a bit later than expected,” Oscar said, giving Lando a blinding smile that made his stomach twist with that complicated more-than-just-a-crush feeling he preferred not to think about. He hummed in response, fiddling with his hoodie strings.
After a few more minutes, everyone that had been on their flight (aka about half the Mclaren crew, including Zak and Andrea who had ditched them first chance they got) had left, and Lando was getting more and more stressed out. He was biting his lip and running his hands through his hair repeatedly, imagining practically every worse-case scenario. What if his suitcase got on the wrong flight? What if there was something bad in there he didn’t realize and they wouldn’t let him get his stuff? What if some rando took his stuff?
He didn’t realize Oscar was talking to him until a hand waved in front of his face. He looked to his teammate who was already staring at him worriedly.
“Hey, you okay?” he asked, resting his hand on Lando’s arm. Lando managed a small, likely unconvincing nod.
Oscar let go of his upper arm with a gentle squeeze, and Lando might just melt away at the spot. “Well, I was asking you if you wanted to go to the baggage desk and ask about your suitcase?”
Lando nodded again and stood, walking away before even giving Oscar a chance to do so as well. He felt a bit bad as he heard Oscar scramble upright and start pulling his suitcase behind him, but it had been a long day and he really just needed to collapse into his hotel room now.
He reached the desk and made eye contact with a short woman, her long brown hair tied up in a low ponytail and wearing official looking clothes, who was standing near the back of the small room. She rushed forward and sat down in a swivel chair, pushing her glasses up.
“What’s your issue, dearie?” she said in a strong Southern accent, only slightly muffled by the thick glass separating them.
“Uh, can’t find my bag. Didn't show up,” he said with a guilty smile. He tried to turn on his charm as much as possible, his train of thought being, Maybe if I’m nice she’ll be nice back and then I can go to bed quicker.
“Alright love. Name?”
“Lando Norris,” he said. Oscar had reached him by now, standing so close to his side that their shoulders were almost brushing against each other.
The lady did some typing on her computer, then let out a little tsk sound in the back of her throat. “I’m sorry, it seems like your luggage got sent to the wrong place. We’re trying to get it here as we speak.”
Lando shot a glance back to Oscar, who raised his eyebrows. “Do you know what happened?” he asked the lady. He looked at the pin on her shirt, which said her name was Charlotte. Huh, she didn’t look like a Charlotte.
Charlotte gave a shrug in response. “Could’ve been anything. My guess, there wasn’t enough space in the cargo hold on your plane. It got placed on the wrong extra-storage space, and got sent somewhere else. You’ll have to wait until it gets here. That might take a while.”
Lando worked hard to suppress a groan. “Okay. Thanks.” He tried for a smile that ended up more like a grimace.
“You two can sit in one of those chairs on the right while you wait,” Charlotte said with a sympathetic smile. Lando turned to his right and flopped into a chair. At least they were cushioned.
This night was turning shitty fast. He just wanted to sleep, was that too much to ask? And what was even more awful about this was that Oscar had to stay with him.
“Sorry about this,” he told his friend, who looked at him confused.
“Why? It’s nothing you could control.”
“Yeah, I guess. It’s just…” he trailed off, not sure how to explain that somehow he was blaming himself for this. No, he’d never tell Oscar that, he’d think he was weird. The edge of Lando’s eyes were starting to water with tears, and he wanted to scream. You’re such a baby. What’s your problem? Bury it, you can’t do this right now. Crybaby.
“Hey, Lando, it’s okay,” Oscar said, reaching out with one hand. He touched Lando’s shoulder tenderly. “I don’t mind.”
Lando hugged his legs to his chest and buried his head in his knees. “I’m just having a bad day,” he mumbled, and for a second he wasn’t sure if Oscar heard him.
“That’s alright,” Oscar said, and he let go of Lando’s arm. Lando didn’t even get a chance to mourn the loss of contact though, because then Oscar’s arm was wrapping around his shoulders and gently tugging him closer. Lando practically fell onto his chest, and could feel his cheeks reddening.
“This okay?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“You can rest. You know, if you want. I know you’re tired.”
“Will you wake me up when my suitcase shows up?”
“Mm-hmm,” Oscar hummed, and Lando let himself sink into his embrace, their breaths and heartbeats syncing. Oscar was really cuddly, he thought as he drifted off.
# # #
“Hey, Lando, wake up.”
Osc, Lando thought and smiled. “Wake up, Lando.” Then someone was gently pushing his shoulder, and he blearily opened his eyes.
He took in his surroundings with a moment of slight confusion before remembering. The airport. His bags. Crying. Oscar.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” the man in question said, and Lando swore he felt his fingers brushing through his curls. “C’mon, your stuff got here.”
A part of Lando wanted to jump up and start doing a victory dance on the spot. The annoyance of getting up overruled it though. He was so comfy.
Wait, where exactly was he? He knew he was at the airport, but this was way too comfy for a chair. His eyes flickered around trying to figure it out, and oh God he was in Oscar’s lap. He quickly sat up, using his hands to push himself upright. However, he didn’t account for where he was putting his hands, and ended up putting half of his weight on Oscar’s thigh. Oscar let out a little grunt of pain, wincing.
“Oh shit, sorry sorry sorry,” Lando hurriedly apologized, backing up.
“No no, you’re fine,” Oscar reassured him, but his voice was strained. He looked at Lando with a smirk. “Are you trying to sabotage me, Lando Norris?”
“I’m sorry!”
Oscar just giggled and stood. He reached a hand out to Lando, who took it. He used his free hand to grab his suitcase and took off confidently to the left, not releasing his tight grasp on Lando’s hand.
“Uh, where are we going?” Lando asked, desperately trying to stop the stupid butterflies rising in his stomach. God he was so childish, they were literally just holding hands. But they were holding hands.
“To get your bag. Obviously.”
With no further explanation, he proceeded to get dragged through what felt like half the airport. Not that he minded. Every once in a while Oscar would look back and give him a trademark Osc Smile that made his insides turn to mush, so that made up for the mystery part pretty well.
Finally they reached their destination, some obscure part of the airport. A few official people gave him his suitcase along with many apologies and a crap ton of airline points (not that those were especially helpful to him, Mclaren paid for most of his flights anyways. It was a nice gesture though.) He accepted the apologies quickly, not wanting to drag out this process any longer than necessary.
Then they were in a taxi headed to their hotel, and the exhaustion was coming back ten-fold.
“Tired?” Oscar asked once Lando had yawned for the fifth time.
“Just a bit,” Lando quipped.
“Want to sleep again?”
“You’re fine with it?”
“Of course.”
Lando hesitantly let his head fall on Oscar’s shoulder. Oscar’s arm found its way around his shoulders again.
Just before Lando fell asleep again, he felt a feather-light kiss pressing against his head, and he scooted closer to Oscar with a sigh.
Here are some people who said they were interested: @slugesh, @peppysinc, @sunnykasarova, @alto-the-avocado, @lailau7904, @standgrand, @chamberkat
#lando norris#oscar piastri#landoscar#f1#f1 fanfic#formula 1#let me know what you think!#f1 rpf#f1 rpf fanfic
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