#oh there was also sort of a protest against the

[writinganon1]

@cokoweee

Ya’ll ever have a dream so lifelike it feels aggressively real until one thing goes a little too wrong and then you start to realize that maybe you’re in a dream but it’s also too real to convince yourself it’s not real that you can’t wake yourself up? 

TW: panic attack, I say gun, uhhh blood ig? Bishop says a kinda weird thing but that's just him bein him

can I say blood? last time I did it marked me as mature...

-

Her heart thumped against her chest, lactic acid building in her legs as she ran. She tapped furiously at her phone, fingers slipping over the screen as she tried to deploy Sheldon. 

Donnie says “no no no” chimed a pixilated picture of Othello, his finger waving back and forth. 

“What the-” She slammed against a wall, her shoulder crunching against the brick. 

His stupid programming on the poor thing to keep Sheldon at his house. Maybe she could override it? 

No, not enough time. She was just going to have to run and hope for the best. 

Her shoulder screamed in protest as she climbed the ladder in the alley. Scrambling over the side of the building to catch her breath, she tapped at the screen again. 

There had to be something she could do to foil his programming. She wiped at her nose, the cold still not quite gone even after days of bed rest. Bullets flew over the edge of the building, seemingly locking on to her body heat. Throwing herself at the ledge at the last second to force the bullets to crash into the wall she coughed violently, phlegm coating her throat.

Stupid sickness. 

Stupid Othello leaving her with the stupid rabbit farmer.

She pushed herself off the ground, arms struggling under the weight of herself. It was as if every muscle in her body was on fire, each fiber screaming at her to stop. She gulped raising her head over the ledge. Agent Bishop was standing on the adjacent rooftop, his face curled into a sneer, eyes unblinking despite the sun in his eyes. 

He waved at her, fingers waggling in the air as he pulled a small gun from his pocket. Aiming it directly at her chest he grinned, his eyes flickering with something distinctly unhuman. 

She stumbled backward, her feet skidding over the concrete as he seemed to lock onto her. Loose rock dug into her knees as she clambered over the rooftop. 

Away.

All she needed to do was get away. 

She placed a hand over her stomach, feeling the raised bump of the scar, as she moved.

This was…

This was wrong? 

It didn’t happen this way. 

No. She didn’t need to get away, she needed to get out. 

The bullet ripped into her skin, tearing away at muscle, and shattering the bone in her rib.

She screamed, blood pouring from the gaping hole in her chest, as Bishop moved closer. He walked to her side, footsteps clanking against the concrete. 

Clawing at the ground she dragged her body along the roof, rocks digging under her nails. Bishop laughed, his foot trampling her hand, digging it into the ground. She gasped, breathing shallowly as she fought to get loose. 

He grabbed her hair, wrapping it between his fingers and tightening his grip as he pulled her from the floor. 

“Oh, this is wonderful.” He smiled, voice dripping with venom. “Such a pretty little thing I caught this evening. I’ve been dying to chat with you.” He pulled her hair up, forcing her to rise. “I wonder if she’ll do any tricks?” 

She spat in his face, her ears filled with an all-consuming ringing. 

Away. 

She needed to get away. 

It didn’t matter how. She needed to get away. 

He said something else, flaunting some sort of mechanism he had hidden in his shirt. She tried to focus on his words, but her breathing was too shallow, her limbs too shaky, the ringing too loud for her to hear a word. 

She clamped a hand over her chest, a sorry attempt to staunch the flow of blood from the gaping hole in her body. Cursing softly she watched as the red seeped into a slithering pink fleshy mass. 

She stifled a scream as the pink turned an orange maroon, her own blood fueling some sort of monster. 

“Shhhhhhh.” Bishop whispered against her ear, “It’ll be done soon. Just one quick slash and you’ll be out of my hair for good.” 

The mass jumped forward, faster than she could comprehend, her body spasming in pain as she scrambled back.

Was this the Krang she’d heard so much about after she’d left the jail? Weren’t they supposed to be mindless or something? 

It lunged forward again, tentacles lashing toward her face. Bishop shook her in front of him, like a toy for a dog. 

“Kendra?”  

She screamed as he tightened his grip on her, shaking her around like a bag of flour. The world around her turned hazy, her vision blurring in and out. 

She wasn’t going to go out without a fight. 

Throwing her head back she jammed her skull into his chin, breaking the grip he had on her hair. 

She clawed at the ground, a strange silky feeling coating her fingers. Pushing away the softness of what was sure to be Krang, she kicked at the mass as it wiggled unnaturally. 

“KENDRA!” A familiar voice shouted at her, a gentle three-fingered nubby touch against her arm. 

Her eyes flew open, arms flailing to the sides to swat at what was left of the Krang matter, as hands held her back. She gasped, her chest heaving as a sinking feeling hit her gut. Dread splashed over her head like a wave, drowning her, leaving nothing but fear.

Eyes widening she looked next to her for Tello, horrified as darkness encroached on her vision, leaving her staring through a pin hole. Nausea rolled through her stomach as she gasped for air, her chest shuddering to keep up with her breathing. 

It hurt. It hurt so bad. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” He whispered, hand placed against her back. “It’s ok you’re home. You’re with me.” 

She jerked backward. He was loud. So so loud. Even with the ringing in her ears, he was too loud. 

Breaths were punched from her lungs faster than she could finish taking them in. Tears streamed down her face as her eyes blew wide. Her chest tightened, lungs twisting as she shook. 

She’s dying. She has to be dying. There’s no other explanation. 

Dead in her room from a nightmare-induced heart attack,  

Her eyes flickered back and forth over the room, not focusing on anything, just wildly scanning for danger she knew wasn’t there. Willing her arm to move, she let out a chocked warble. 

The room seemed to melt around her. Things blurred together, a fuzzy abstract painting of almost-real-life. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she tightened her muscles. 

Her whole body shook as she tried to take steadying breaths. 

“Did you know softshell turtles only have half a plastron?” 

She was in the middle of dying. 

She most definitely did not need turtle facts right now. 

“Technically a full one, but it’s covered by skin, rendering it effectively useless for plastron purposes.” He shrugs. “Same deal as the shell.” 

She looked at him, confusion breaking through the panic. 

“Makes us really flexible though. Wanna see?” 

He got off the bed, walked to the middle of the room, and bent backward. He smiled upside down at her from the floor and smoothly brought himself back up. 

“Pretty neat huh?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Bet no other turtle you meet could do that.” 

Amusement rippled through her as she watched him demonstrate his stretches and various yoga poses.

“I’ve never met another turtle like you.” She breathed, some of the panic melting away. 

“Precisely! No one can do it like me!” He said, pointing his finger at her triumphantly before his face softened. “ We starting to feel a bit better?” 

She brought her thumb and pointer finger close together. A little 

He nodded. “Am I good to come back up or do you need some space?” 

She patted the bed next to her, inviting him closer. She waited until he was seated comfortably before slumping against his shoulder, exhausted. 

He shifted slightly, reaching for his phone with one hand, the other wrapped around her. He let them sit for a moment, reminding her to breathe every few seconds before Sheldon zipped into the room. 

He whispered something to Othello before zooming out of the room. She watched passively as it happened, her body still not quite connected to her soul. 

Sheldon returned moments later, a bag of ice, a bottle of water, a cookie, and tub of lavender lotion in his little propeller arms. 

Othello took them from him, patted his head, and shooed him away. Taking one of the ice cubes he flattened out her hand and placed it in her palm. 

She jerked slightly at the sensation of cold in her hand, surprised when he placed another in her palm. 

“Focus on the melting.” He said, voice low and gentle. 

The ice filled the lines of her hand and dripped over the sides and down her arm. She shivered as the water pooled in her hand. Othello grabbed the cookie from the pile he had created and broke off half to give to her. 

“Thanks?”

He watched her carefully. “What does it taste like?” 

“A cookie?” She said through a mouthful, her hands still full of TV static. 

“I need details.” He pressed. 

She paused, taking a moment to consider the flavors in her mouth. “Vanilla, chocolate chips.” She took another bite. “ Like I left it in the oven a minute or two too long and overcooked them just slightly.” 

She’d have to make another batch, this time keeping an eye on the time. 

He pressed an uncapped water bottle into her hand. “Drink.” 

She pressed the bottle to her lips, feeling the way the cold blossomed against her skin as she held it there. Quietly observing the way she could feel it go down her throat and into her stomach. 

“Are we feeling more alive?” 

She nodded, running her hand along her thigh to feel the fabric of her pajama pants as she pressed her head against his side. 

“Good.” He murmured, sleep creeping into his voice. “You had a panic attack I’m pretty sure.” 

“...Sorry it was for something stupid.” 

“I get worked up over stupid stuff too.” He mumbled, eyes half closed. 

“Your stuff isn’t stupid.” She countered. 

“Then neither is yours.” 

She stopped, lifting her head to look up at him.

He grabbed her hand, flexing the fingers for her. “You feel ok?” 

“I don’t know.” She answered honestly. 

He nodded and guided her to a lying position. “Tell me five of your favorite things.” 

She paused, looking around the room. “Hmmmmm. You.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Mhm. Uhhh, lavender. The color purple. Satin jackets. Baking. Messing around in the lab. Oh, I guess that’s more than five.” 

He tapped her shoulders rhythmically, “You can keep going if you need to.” 

She took in a deep breath. “I think I’m ok now.” 

“Positive?” 

Nodding she pulled the blankets over herself. What she really needed was rest. She was so exhausted from the whole ordeal that the idea of doing anything else felt impossible. 

He got off the bed again, searching beneath the bedframe for something before he pulled a large purple blanket from under the bed. She blinked in surprise as he placed it over her, a weight holding her down to the bed. 

“I should’ve mentioned it was weighted.” 

She pulled her hand out to give a quick thumbs up as he climbed back into bed. She shifted to hold out her arm for a hug. He smiled and pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her waist. 

“You smell like you’ve been using my soap.” She grumbled against his plastron. 

He shrugged. “ I like the way you smell.” 

Rolling her eyes she tugged the blanket higher over her shoulders smiling as soft chirping filled the room, the sound he always made right as he fell asleep. 

“Good night Tello.” She whispered.

His plastron vibrated as he churred back, gently running circles through her hair. 

She was home. And she was safe.

~

squad don't write stuff at four AM I'm pretty sure this only makes sense to me at this point. Anyway I was listening to my pretty princess playlist while writing this 💁‍♀️

the reason why this was written is in the tags btw

[alphacrone]

love seeing high school kids organize real protests for actual world issues bc when i was in high school the only time my peers and i managed to actually pull a protest together was when we organized a sit-in to protest the new rule that we weren’t allowed to sit in the hallways during lunch

[fayes-fics]

Eden

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Seeing you with other Bridgerton offspring has an interesting effect on your new husband...

I couldn't resist using a Season 3 gif cos hello.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, breeding kink, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, vaginal sex, creampie, ie filthy babymaking. Also, the smut is bookended by fluff; yeah, that probably needs a warning, lol.

Word Count: 4.2k

Authors Note: This is a very belated request fill for @victoriaholland (HERE) and Anon (HERE) about Benedict with a touch of baby fever. I decided to combine the asks as I saw a way to weave them together. Sorry for the delay, but well at least babymaking seems appropriate for spring hehe. Thank you to @colettebronte for being an awesome beta, as always. Err, Enjoy! <3

Daphne’s latest child is beautiful; you delight in his joy as he bounces on your lap, learning the strength of his sweetly chubby legs, little fists wrapped tight around your fingers. 

Looking up, you catch your husband's eye from afar, his stare intense across the gardens of Bridgerton House as you sit under a tented shelter upon a picnic blanket. The rest of the family are scattered around, playing games or chatting, but you are quite content minding the little one while his nanny takes a few moments to eat lunch.

“Is everything alright, my love?” You inquire as Benedict draws closer. 

“Yes… I….” He seems a little flustered. 

“Are you sure?” 

You pull a funny face for the infant, who breaks out into the most adorable infectious giggles that has you grinning from ear to ear and hugging him into your body, swaying with him. 

“Are you alright? Minding the child?” He checks, his voice a touch odd.

“Oh yes. We are more than happy, are we not, my little prince?” You talk in a vaguely silly baby-talk voice, addressing the child in your arms as much as Benedict. 

Again, the child peals with delighted noises and spit bubbles enthusiastically, looking up at Benedict eagerly as much as you do.

“Well, that is wonderful news,” he blusters, and you could swear he is out of sorts, breathless almost. “I shall… leave you to it,” he adds, giving you a bow and then withdrawing as the little one wiggles out of your arms.

“Ignore your Uncle Benedict; he is being a silly billy,” you whisper conspiratorially once the man in question is out of earshot.

The response is babbled nonsense as the child bashes one wooden brick against another.

“I quite agree,” you state sagely before breaking into a goofy grin.

——

“Please?” Hyacinth wheedles.

“No, Hy,” you sigh without even looking up.

“Ugh, you are no fun!” she scowls, crossing her arms defiantly.

“What is all this?” Anthony clips as he strides into the drawing room, Benedict on his heels, as Hyacinth flounces dramatically across the room. 

“Your little sister is angry at me because I will not allow her to drink the punch; it has brandy in it,” you explain cooly.

“Quite right, too!” Anthony chimes as Hyacinth rolls her eyes.

“Listen to y/n, Hyacinth, and do as she says,” Anthony lectures, and you feel grateful for his support, effectively neutering her rebellion. “Despite a temporary lapse of judgment when choosing a spouse, she is otherwise one of the most sensible people in this family.”

“Hey…!” Benedict protests.

“Please…” Anthony withers, twisting towards him. “Brother, if there is one thing us Bridgerton men know how to do, ‘tis to marry a woman entirely too good for us. And well done on that, by the way.”

You smirk at Anthony’s hilarious way of putting his brother - your husband - in his place, catching Kate’s eye with a wink as she enters the room carrying her baby. 

“Y/n, come and meet the future Viscount; he’s awake at last,” she calls to you. 

You are immediately on your feet and grinning, taking the tiny bundle from her arms and cooing at the sweet little boy. The baby opens his enormous brown eyes and observes you for a second before breaking into a one-toothed grin and happily waving his fists at you.

“Oh, he really likes you!” Kate enthuses, delighted.

“As I do you, little one,” you smile, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

You look up to see Benedict with that same look on his face as earlier. A tempest, almost an energy over his being. It’s almost as if he is… aroused?! Which is most odd.

As you hand the baby back to Kate, giving him one final kiss, Benedict is suddenly by your side. Announcing to the family that there has been a change of plan and, regrettably, you will not be able to stay for dinner, his arm an insistent tug around your waist.

——

“Why did we not stay for family dinner as originally planned, my love?” 

Your question is soft, only just audible over the noise of the carriage as you trundle over the cobbled streets of Mayfair a few minutes later. 

“I decided that we should perhaps dine at ours this evening…” his voice adopting that deeper edge which always causes butterflies in your tummy. His hand lands on your knee, a heavy weight that feels portentous. He slides closer on the bench seat.

“Why might that be?” your ask turns breathy, entirely without you meaning it to.

“I want to be alone with you,” he murmurs, unmistakably pitched to arouse. 

The carriage seems to notch up a few degrees as the rocking motion presses your side rhythmically into his. The sound of the wheels and hooves is so loud. He twists to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pulls your back against his flank. 

“All day today, I have watched you,” he rumbles, hand warming the skin around your clavicle, fingertip brushing in circles. “You are so very good with children, darling. Seeing you so naturally with the babies and how you handled Hyacinth… you would be the perfect mother.”

You blush a little at his praise. “Thank you, my love. I would like children one day. Your children. Imagine a child with your eyes. They would be quite the most beautiful,” you sigh wistfully, leaning back into him, his hand feeling heavier on your skin.

Benedict chuckles modestly. “And what of your beauty? Would a child version of you not be the most fetching?”

You giggle and turn your head sideways to nuzzle against his jaw. “I think we would indeed make beautiful babies together, Benedict.”

“I agree,” his voice a tempting lilt, fingers skating downwards over the swell of your breast now, slipping inside the fabric and making you gasp as he tweaks your nipple. “And I think we should start as soon as we get home.”

“Did seeing me with babies suddenly make you want your own, Mr Bridgerton?” Your hand flexes on his knee as he toys with your breast.

“Oh yes darling, it made me want to take you right there…” he asserts, finally admitting those looks he gave you were indeed pure arousal.

You reach up and run your hand into his hair, fingers flexing on his warm scalp as you pull his face to yours.  “And suddenly, it appears I am no longer hungry for dinner…” you whisper flirtatiously, your cupid's bow brushing his stubbled upper lip.

He groans, and his passionate kiss is plundering, a tingle running over your limbs, just as your carriage comes to a shuddering stop outside your townhome. 

Uncaring of the neighbourhood or any prying eyes, Benedict sweeps you out of the carriage in his arms, carrying you bridal style over the pavement and through your front door.

“My wife and I are not to be disturbed,” he announces crisply and loudly to the staff as you enter the hallway.

Leaving no room for doubt about his plans by pulling you into a searing kiss for all to see before ascending the stairs rapidly. He practically growls as he kicks open the door to your master bedroom door and slams it shut again with his foot. 

“Benedict…” you stammer, heart pounding at how overwrought he is. 

You have never seen him like this. Commanding, crackling with an energy that has your body simmering. He is usually so sweet, affable, and kind. Every time you have been intimate since your wedding night a few weeks ago, he has been a complete gentleman: loving and so very tender. The grip he has had on you tonight feels different. This is something primal—like a switch has been flipped at a basal level in his being.

He places you down onto your feet before the roaring fire, his face intense.

“Wife…” The way he says it makes you feel a flush creep over your skin.

“Husband…” you respond in kind, belly fluttering with excitement.

“Take off your dress,” he orders, his dilated pupils shining in the firelight.

This is new. Usually, he is the one to remove it slowly and softly from your body. 

“I cannot, the buttons…” you confess, signalling behind you. You would need your ladies' maid to unhook them from between your shoulder blades.  

He moves closer, seeming so much taller; his ragged breaths dance in the tendrils of your hair as he reaches around behind your shoulders. With a rough tug that makes you startle, he tears the fabric asunder, the sound of tiny pearl buttons skittering across the polished wooden floor behind you as you gasp in surprise.

“There…” he smirks dangerously, “problem resolved.”

You are speechless as he withdraws a pace, looking at you expectantly. You follow his order, a slight quake in your hands as you push the frayed dress down your body, still a little shocked by his strength. Then you reach for the crisscross lacing of your stays, feeling the weight of his stare as each loop relents, his eyes hungry, his body heaving with deep breaths his fitted jacket taut with each inhale. You peel the item away, leaving just your thin white cotton chemise.

“Rip it too,” you plead before you realise it, enthralled by this assertive demeanour.

With a noise in the back of his throat, he takes a pace forward again, and you stare up at him, enchanted. He grasps the fabric above your breasts and then rips it loudly from your chest all the way to your ankles, the sound echoing up the walls. Again, his strength has your knees weak. As the torn pieces flutter from your body, you want to bathe in the hungry sound he makes as he realises you are clad only in white knee-high silk stockings, no underwear to be seen, the warmth from the fireplace swirling around your intimate area. 

As you stand almost naked before your imposing husband, him still fully dressed, there is a knot low in your gut. But it’s not fear; it’s something else entirely—desire. Trembling, breathless and wanting. An elemental wish to be thoroughly taken.

He steps forward, eyes glittering, and his fingers plough roughly between your legs, making you gasp.

“Eden,” he proclaims, his fingers snagging over your swollen pearl of a clit with almost rough strokes, the callous where he holds his paintbrush abrading your folds. “A wonderful, lush, wet garden. Just waiting to be planted.”  His words are hypnotic and low, questing fingers being coated with a dewiness that is entirely of his making.

“Please…” you whimper, squirming on his touch, captivated by this version of your husband, wanting to submit to him, a burning need low in your belly. His fingers slide faster, making a lewd, wet noise. 

“Are you going to let me?” Benedict croons. “Plant my seed inside you?”

Until now, he has always been careful to complete outside your body. A slightly bereft feeling every time - the wonderful moment cut short as he leaves you suddenly empty, a warm splash upon your thighs, tummy or spine. The idea he will stay inside you is alluring in a way you don’t fully comprehend.

“Yes, please, husband,” your nipples puckering almost painfully against the wool of his lapels as he crowds into you. 

“Good. Get on that bed right now,” Benedict orders roughly, pointing at your four-poster bed as he tugs off his jacket.

You scramble to obey. Feeling under a spell. Being naked save your stockings feels illicit as you lay back into the soft pillows and watch as he undresses, staring you down the whole time. 

You slide a hand between your legs instinctively as more of his toned body is revealed. He growls at the sight, you biting your lip and watching him, his torso bare, his trousers clinging to his shapely legs, to his swollen cock. He bends to remove his shoes, and the sight of his broad shoulders flexing is enough to make you moan. As he stands back up and hooks his elegant fingers around the trouser buttons, a smug look on his handsome face that he is doing this to you.

“Husband…” you call out to him, writhing on your fingers shamelessly now, one hand shooting up to brace your movements against the headboard, flushing warm down to your toes.

With a few dextrous flicks, the buttons relent, and his trousers drop to the floor. His naked body is always a delicious sight, but tonight feels more, every sense heightened, moaning again as he takes a step towards you, thigh muscles flexing, his cock standing proud to attention.

Again, a soft plea falls from your lips, your eyes raking every plain of his tempting form, feeling yourself swell under your fingertips.

“Not yet,” he clucks, the arrogance somehow more beguiling as you bite your lip. “I think I want to watch you come, my darling. All by yourself. I hear female pleasure can aid with conception after all.”

“Will you not touch me?” you petition, reaching your other hand imploringly towards him.

“No darling, I shall watch,” his lopsided grin deadly. 

He wraps a strong fist around his own cock, pumping slowly, a bead of moisture gathering at his tip, glistening in the candlelight as he does. 

“Now, use both hands, please. Place your fingers inside yourself,” Benedict instructs as you blindly follow, a languid buzz in your brain—you would do anything he told you to right now.

Planting your feet squarely on the bed, you drag your ankles up higher towards your bottom, letting your legs fall open wider to give him a better view as your other hand slides down. You plunge two fingers into yourself, your hips canting off the mattress with a staccato breath at the sensation of yourself, so hot and tight.

“That's right,” he endorses, a leisurely movement of his hand up and down his cock as he watches you from a few feet away. “‘Feel yourself, darling. Tis paradise, is it not?” that trademark rumbling voice skittering over your skin, goosebumps raising down your arms just at the tone. 

“Come closer,” you appeal breathily, wanting to smell him, feel his heat, his flesh—anything.

He shakes his head, smirking wider as his refusal spurs you on, desperate to come. Mewling as your fingers speed up, one circling your clit, the others buried as far as you can, wishing instead it were his long, graceful fingers reaching places you are unable. Watching him squeeze his own cock hurtles you fast, already aroused from the moment he slid a hand into your dress in the carriage. 

Unable to fight the tide in your body, you screw your eyes shut and call out his name as your pussy starts to convulse around your own fingers, toes curling into the sheet, your muscles all going stiff, your hips again raised as you feel the tide break. A gush of wetness runs down your palm and your bottom cheeks as your mind floats away. Distantly, you can hear him speaking, but it’s fuzzy as you flop back down, sated, your legs going flat, too shaky to balance.

You startle as a warm hand circles the wrist of your fingers still inside yourself, bringing you abruptly back into the room. Benedict looms over you, his chest heaving, that power still there.

“What was that?” your query drowsy, lips dry.

He chuckles richly. “I said that was spectacular,” he repeats, bemused. “But also that I want you to paint your nipples with your arousal, my love, for me,” he commands, tugging your hand so your fingers slide out of yourself.

You do as bidden, still floating down from the high, smearing your own warm juices onto your puffed areolas.

“Perfect..” he intones.

In one swift, athletic move, he mounts the bed. You cry out as his warm mouth encloses your left nipple, groaning lewdly as he licks you clean of your arousal, his tongue a heavy, warm, wet weight curling around your sensitive bud, his lips tugging gently, reawakening those synapses only just recovering from your orgasm. 

“Why do you always taste like heaven?” his dusky question is rhetorical, his breath gusting over your sternum as he swaps to your other breast to meter out the same treatment. He has you moving under him again as he settles his body over you more firmly, your hips tilting up to feel his hard cock graze your inner thigh. “I wonder if you will still taste like heaven when you are heavy with my child?” he hums thoughtfully as he teases your nipple with the tip of his nose, one hand cupping your empty belly. “I dare say even moreso, ripe like a vine, bearing fruit…” That sonorous voice teases over your skin as he moves slowly upwards to nuzzle your neck. “My fruit….” he adds, possessive as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, so loud now right by your ear.

His hands wind around your thighs as he shuffles position so he is kneeling between your legs, his ropey thighs spread wide under yours…

“Are you ready for that, my love?” he pauses until you nod almost imperceptibly; you squeak as he suddenly hauls you down the bed, hips onto his lap, your pelvis now higher than your head upon the sheets. Your stockings unfurling down your legs where he quickly plucks at the ribbons holding them aloft.

“Good, because I am more than ready for you,” it almost sounds like a warning.

Then, with a solid thrust, he spears into your body, the invasion toe-curling, your fingers grasping his muscular forearms that are clamped around your waist. It is a primal position, and he begins to thrust with no mercy, his cock feeling huge and heavy, a strong weight that drags heavily over your walls as your pussy clings to him. Your eyes flutter closed as you whimper his name, powerless to do anything but take his thrusts, draped across his lap as you are.

“Look at me,” he demands raggedly. And you do, his handsome face contorted with effort as he slams into you, a little bead of sweat forming on his brow. “Look at me while I fuck a baby into you, wife.”

He’s never spoken to you like this before, clipped, harsh. It seems appropriate that he would be almost desperate in an act so elemental, so of the earth—to create life. Stoking a fire deep in your core that is a clarion call for him, a frisson running over your skin at the idea you are being impregnated. Bred.

You know neither of you will last long with this almost frenzied coupling, the tendrils of your arousal already swirling so soon after your last, his near-brutish handling precisely what you need, your swollen pearl slammed into his flat abdomen with every stroke he takes. The sheets roll under your shoulder blades as he keeps the same position, your hips high, a mounting that you cannot and do not want to escape, knowing he is leaving fingertip bruises around the dip of your waist, marks you will carry secretly with pride just for him.

You moan his name, so close again to that ephemeral bliss, thrashing your head from side to side as if willing the pleasure to break and wash over you.

“Come on, come for me, milk me, darling. Take what you need, take my seed,” his voice a deep wrecked purr, the lines of his body tense, craving release as much as you.

That command is what breaks the dam for you, an almost violent ricochet fanning out from where you clench around him, his cries muffled behind the rushing noise in your ears, every part of you convulsing in a pleasurable wave. And then, in a floating haze, for the very first time, you feel your husband come inside you, a warm bloom that coats your walls. It's an intoxicating feeling; you never want him to come anywhere else ever again.

“That's it, well done, my love,” he croons, eyes still shut as he shudders with little aftershocks, not leaving your body—as if he wants to stay inside you always.

——

As the embers in the fireplace glow white, you lay in post-coital bliss, bodies dewy from exertion. Benedict rests his head upon your stomach as you card your fingers leisurely through his hair.

“Do you believe we may have made a baby, darling?” he hums, pressing his ear to your belly button as if listening for a heartbeat.

“I am certain of it, husband; you were so very thorough with your attentions,” you assure as he takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “I hope our baby has your face,” you opine.

“Even if it is a girl?!”

“Thou art as pretty as thou art handsome, Mr Bridgerton,” you quip.

He laughs, carefree, crawling behind you and pulling you into a spooned embrace. “Be careful with such provocation, wife; I may not be done with you after all,” he jests idly. “I, on the other hand, hope our child looks like you, even if it is a boy.” he posits, crowding into your back, his lips warm on the shell of your ear.

“Why?” you laugh, frowning, twisting to look back at him.

“So that I may love them as much as I do you,” he breezes nonchalantly as if what he says is not the sweetest thing you can imagine, causing a tart, sudden spike of want through your body, even as you lay sated.

“Be careful, husband,” you volley back, coquettish. “Or I may not yet be done with you.”

There is a sharp, approving intake of breath, and his hand slides low from your belly into the thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs.

“Is that a promise” he rumbles, your gasp loud as his fingers expertly drag against your clit.

“It is whatever you want. Just do not stop,” you rush out, your hand curling around his bicep, feeling a rigid mass slide hot against your bottom. “Again, husband,” you appeal breathily. “Impregnate me again.”

“With pleasure, wife,” he growls, surging into your body with a force that again steals the very breath from your lungs.

The pinkish light dawn is streaking over the ceiling above when you both finally succumb to sleep after many more vigorous attempts at babymaking. The last one, perhaps the most desperate, you pinned against the headboard, him fucking into you so hard from behind that a jagged crack appears, spidering up the wall from where the bedframe slammed into it. A flaw which he steadfastly refuses to get fixed, claiming it to be the most profound art—a souvenir and ode to a momentous night.

——

9 months later

Benedict’s lips mash against your sweaty brow as he keeps lauding you with praise, excitement and pride evident in his every word. You flop back onto the bed, exhaustion deep in your bones, your body turned inside out, hurting in a way you have never known.

But it was all worth it.

What feels like only moments later, in your shattered, addled state, the doctor and nurses depart. Your husband perches on the bed next to you, his face a picture of wonderment. Holding not just one but two bundles of joy in the crooks of his arms. One girl, one boy—fraternal twins.

“My love, we have created the most beautiful creatures on all of this earth,” he attests partisanly, his voice profound with emotion, his eyes pinging from one swaddled face to the other as they sleep soundly.

You shoot him a watery but ironic smile. “I suppose, dear husband, that is what happens when you spend a whole night impregnating me. You succeed twice over.”

His brow raises pointedly, his tongue shooting out to pass over his bottom lip. “Are you suggesting next time around, wife, we keep going for three days straight? So that I may have a brood of eight by the time we are done?” Deploying his bedroom voice that he knows full well makes your knees weak.

“Do not say such things in front of the children!” you chide, swatting his knee where it touches your thigh. “And no, I am not carrying six of your progeny at once; that is simply preposterous!”

“Four?” he petitions with a wink.

You roll your eyes affectionately, settling back into the mound of pillows. “A maximum of two at a time is my final offer, Benedict Bridgerton,” you respond drolly.

“Entirely reasonable,” he chuckles contentedly, dropping a kiss onto each of their foreheads before handing both to you so delicately, as if they are the most precious bundles in the world. 

Which to you both, they are.

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[clockwayswrites]

Birds and Mice and Tea Parties 20

Masterpost

AN: B really was trying his best to protect Danny last time, he just was missing too much information. Poor Danny...

No reading over. We suffer and post at 2am.

-

It had been two weeks since the last rogue Wayne visit.

Danny hadn’t intended to keep track. There was no reason to. One visit from Cass and one from Tim did not a pattern make.

He tried to dismiss the observation. He had plenty to do; it wasn’t like he didn’t have friends. The bi-weekly trivia group would start meeting again soon. He also had a TTRGP session that did its best to meet around all that life threw at them. Tucker and him played online games when they could make schedules match and he and Sam talked when she was stateside. He even had regular lunches with coworkers!

Still, there had been something different about spending time with the family.

So no, Danny hadn’t meant to keep track, but he still knew it had been two weeks and a day. But of course he wouldn’t see the Waynes that often. Bruce was a very busy man and most of the children would have no reason to come to W.E. They had their own lives with work and school and being kids or young adults. The other visits had simply been flukes, as nice as the visits had been.

The subtle feeling of melancholy that had settled over him was ridiculous and he wasn’t having it. His mood was simply off because of the whole Ancient thing. The way it was affecting his health didn’t make feeling better any easier either.

Danny leaned against the wall of the elevator as he tried to catch his breath. He really shouldn’t be walking right then to get lunch, not with the way that he felt, but he hadn’t had anything at his place to make lunch with. He hadn’t had the energy to go shopping. He’d just go somewhere close instead of walking to anything on the other side of the park.

The natural reverb of the lobby assaulted Danny as he stepped out of the elevator.

He just had to get through the lobby, the street, the restaurant, back through the street, and through the lobby again. Then he could hide in his office and eat. Or he could hide in there and eat as long as Lucius didn’t find him. Maybe even Lucius would give him a break today though.

“Dr. Fenton…?”

Danny looked up from rubbing his neck.

It was Tim. Damian was at Tim’s side, flanking him like a little guard dog and scowling. Tim was frowning too. Danny immediately wanted to fix whatever was wrong.

“Look at that, a pair of Waynes. How are you two?”

“That is unimportant,” Damian said with a little sniff. “You are clearly unwell. I assume you are returning to your apartment to rest?”

“Oh, no, I’m just going to go grab lunch. I’m alright, really,” Danny said and put on the best smile he could muster.

Tim and Damian looked at each other in some sort of silence conversation. Danny started to edge away from them, thinking he could escape before they came to some sort of end. He really needed out of the lobby and its echoing sounds.

A startled shriek from the entry way cut off that plan.

Danny twisted to face the sound as he stepped in front of the kids.

Of course it was a rogue, what else would it be in Gotham? It was a rogue, but at least it was the Mad Hatter and his squad of likely mind controlled goons. He usually wasn’t prone to death and destruction like some of the others were. But still, Danny felt his metaphorical hackles rising. The kids were here.

The kids were here and sure to draw the Mad Hatter’s attention if he saw them. Danny stepped slowly backwards, herding the kids away from the scene. At least they weren’t far into the lobby.

“Back up to the stairwell,” Danny said lowly, trying to cast his voice behind him.

“Tch. We can—”

“The elevator, the back left one,” Tim said quietly but firmly over his brother’s protest. “I have a code to take it to a safe room in the basement.”

“If he kills the power,” Danny started.

“The elevators have emergency back up.”

“That’s not very good behavior for a tea party, is it?” the Matter Hatter shouted at someone.

Danny bit back a rising noise of anger in his throat. His fingers twitched to act. But he couldn’t. The best plan was to get the kids out of there away from any action.

“Yes I see, Damian,” Tim hissed. “We’re almost to the elevator.”

“Call it as soon as you can,” Danny said. Was there a reverb to his voice? It felt like there was a reverb to his voice. No, no, he couldn’t, he had to…

“That’s better! See? This is how you behave when someone invites you to a tea party! Now where is that little dormouse?” the Mad Hatter called. “I know I saw him come in here! With an even littler one too.”

He wanted Tim.

“Calling the elevator.”

“Another mouse? A rat? A cat?"

The Mad Hatter wanted Tim and Damian.

“Here mousy mouse mice… where are you?"

Danny would not let that happen.

“Oh there you are! Hiding back by the doors, of course he is!” The Mad Hatter said. The crowed parted in fear. His wide, manic eyes looked right past Danny and he grinned. “Get them. We have a tea party we’re late for.”

“Over my dead body,” Danny growled.

The Mad Hatter blinked at Danny like he just noticed him for the first time. His goons rushed past him and through the crowd. “Oh, who are you? Never mind, if death is what you want, we can make that happen.”

Danny couldn’t hold back the chortling laughter. “See, that’s where you have a problem you don’t even know you could have.”

“And what is that?”

“You couldn’t handle my dead body,” Danny said just as the first goon reached them.

Danny stepped forward. He ducked under the swing of the punch and used the momentum to spin the goon around. With a push of his ghostly power, he sent the attacking goon careening into the next one and they both went tumbling.

“Danny, it’s here!” Tim shouted.

Not turning his back to the attackers, Danny stepped backwards into the elevator. Tim slammed a button and the doors basically snapped closed, much faster than they should. Danny was left staring at the polished metal surface of the elevator. Luminous green stared back at him. Soft black feathers dotted his temples. His fingers ended in talons. And he could feel it.

He could feel the skin on his back started to split.

Wings.

[suiana]

I'm thinking about a yandere! secretary who's an absolutely manipulative piece of shit❤️

you hired him because his resume was impeccable and you thought he'd be a perfect fit for the empty position.

which... he is.

but the fact that he's younger than you by a decent amount and can be quite unprofessional at times does throw you off. is it something younger people like doing? is it normal to visit your employee's house with no one else around?

"hey boss, I'm thinking of inviting you over to my place tonight? just the two of us? we can drink and eat fried chicken together❤️"

"my dear, that is rather unprofessional don't you think?"

"what? no of course not. you're thinking into it too much."

it doesn't help that you're sort of a people pleaser and give into his demands easily.

you just want to see all your employees be happy! is that so wrong of you? of course not! and all your other employees (excluding your secretary) all appreciate and treat you with respect. and as you know by now, your secretary is an asshole who makes use of your easily swayed personality to get you to do... things in his favour.

but you don't know that! you just think it's because of the age gap that causes you not to understand his actions and words! surely he's not trying to love you right?

"boss~ don't you think i should meet your family? your parents? you met mine the other day didn't you? oh my parents absolutely loved you! they thought you were so sweet and-"

"w-well... that's only because you got a raise and you suggested i should inform your family about how well you were performing during work... there's no reason for you to meet my-"

"boss, be serious. do you hate me?"

"no of course not! i-"

"that's settled then! we can go and meet your family after this!"

"...yes, my dear."

with that said, he's also an excellent actor and knows how to play things to his advantage. by the time you realize what's going on, you'll already be trapped in the palm of his hand.

"my dear... i am so sorry. we shouldn't have slept together, nor gotten together. it was a severe lapse in judgement and I'm sorry that i crossed the line between personal and professionalism."

"what are you talking about darling? don't worry your silly head over all that. professionalism? who needs that? all the other employees think we look great together, and your family loves me! plus, I'm your boyfriend that you love, yes?"

"i-"

"now stop speaking about stupid things. you don't have to worry about that anymore. just listen to me. it's normal to date your secretary. it's what the younger people are doing nowadays! I'm already 26! so don't worry..."

and it's not like you can just fire him either. like i said, he does an excellent job at being your secretary. also the fact that he practically controls HR and influences them into thinking every other potential employee is subpar. so when you hold a meeting about whether to fire him everyone protests against it. but that's not important.

besides, he won't let you do that. why would you want to get rid of him? you only need him don't you? he's perfect for this job! you don't need another secretary. you don't need anyone else.

just him. only him.

and you two will be happy together as long as you listen to his words and don't try getting rid of him. after all, you might be older but times are changing! you need the hand of a younger and more knowledgeable person. he'll help you bring the company to greater heights and bring in more revenue for you!

so stop talking about how it's wrong. it's not. it's the way of the new generation! and he just.. loves you very much. way too much.

[the-odd-shu]

I would recognise you in another lifetime, entirely in different bodies.

A scenario from the illustrator!Reader universe.

Pairing: Jayce/Viktor/Reader (polycule)

Masterlist:

Previous -> Next

SEASON 2 SPOILERSSSS!!

Gender Neutral Reader with they/them pronouns.

Summary: Reader who is still wandering around in the ruined dimension because they panic scribbled runes onto their forehead which essentially 'repels' Mage!Viktor's magic. It was sheer luck that gave them the correct rune combination, having stolen one of Viktor's research journals and began copying in a blind panic. The runes also allow them to wander the world, beneath Viktor's radar, essentially invisible to his magic as well as untainted by his influence.

"Jayce." A voice in the darkness whispers, sending goosebumps up the man's forearms, as he twisted his broken body round at the call of his name.

The ravine echoed his panicked movements. The whisper of his filthy clothes sliding against each other. The scrap of skin against jagged stone. His leg protests any movement, but his panic is all consuming and rabid.

"Who-who's there?" He demands, his voice coming out cracked and uneven.

The shuffle of shoes on stone have his head snapping back round and up, and his entire body freezes as he sees a humanoid figure perched on a ledge above where he lays. Back lit by the surface, far, far above, the figure is crouched, knees bent with hands flat against the stone they're perched upon.

"Impossible." The thing whispers to itself, which is a testament to just how silent the ravine is that Jayce can hear it. Then the thing begins to climb down, TOWARDS him.

He panics. Unable to tear his eyes off of it, as it moves fluidly, easily, in the uneven terrain, like some sort of uncanny mountain goat. Clearly, it has been navigating this habitat for a long time.

It has several eyes, Jayce realises with horror. Two in the normal places that humans have eyes, that glow subtly in the poor lighting. And then five points on its forehead, that flow with an unnatural, inner light. If Jayce were not so terrified, he may have thought they were arranged like a crown.

The thing's booted feet slam into the ground, and it straightens up like a man. Jayce makes out ruined clothes, worn shoes, and scraggly, unkempt hair. It approaches him fearlessly.

Jayce scrambles away as best as his ruined leg will allow. "S-stay away!" He demands, the fear obvious in his voice.

It pauses. "Oh. Oh my Love." The thing whispers, "what has he let happen to you?" It lowers itself closer to his level, knees hitting stone, before shuffling closer, clearly trying and failing to be unthreatening. "I'll throttle that bastard the next time I lay eyes on him." It hisses to itself, "allowing you to suffer in the name of learning. As if you haven't had a rough several days already."

It continues to mutter to itself, and Jayce realises with a snag that he recognises the voice. And he hadn't before because of how rough it sounds, like the creature hasn't had use of words for years.

He watches with wide eyes as it aims for his leg, rather than his head and anything vital. It tuts under its breath as it crouches above the injury. "Definitely broken." They mutter.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" Jayce asks. In truth, he already knows, but he also doesn't. This person is foreign to him. They move differently to who he is expecting.

"Oh." They say again, voice creaking. "You do not recognise me."

"Step into the light." He says instead.

And the figure tilts their head, those unnatural, glowing eyes sending shivers up and down his back. No, wait, now that they're so close, he realises that the ones further up its face, are in fact runes. Runes that glow with a similar light to the Hexcore. To the magic that had been infused in Viktor's limbs when he had reawakened and stumbled his way across the lab.

At his request, the figure rises once more to their feet, and steps over him towards a beam of light filtering in from far above. The light banishes the uncertainty from Jayce's mind as he gazes upon a face he knows intimately, and yet looks alien to him now.

He was right at least, the upper glowing points on their face were not eyes, but were indeed runes. Runes that looked like they had been carved into the flesh of their forehead.

"What happened to you?" He asks.

"I could ask you the same thing, Love." They return easily, eyes dropping to his leg. "You look like you've been through the ringer." There is a deep, heavy sadness to their voice. A grief that startles Jayce.

Reader lingers by Jayce in the days that follow.

Keeping him company, and indulging his NEED to scribble on the walls. Runes and equations, and any possible ways back home.

They hunt down small creatures to feed him. Sparing his leg the agony of doing it himself, and allowing him to rest.

They venture deeper into the depths of the ravine in search of burnable things for a fire. And help him to the water for a drink.

They do not offer up suggestions of how to escape. Saying obscurer things like, "he's testing you', and 'he won't allow me to remain here if I make this too easy for you'. They always refer to some nameless 'him' but refuse to actually name 'him'. Muttering how if 'he' wanted Jayce to know 'him' yet, than 'he' would have already shown himself.

It gets cold in the ravine at night, so the pair huddle together for warmth. Reader's head on Jayce's shoulder, hands knotted into his ruined clothes as if he'll slip away at a moment's notice.

Sometimes, their rune riddled forehead touches the skin of Jayce's throat. And sometimes the magic residing within offer glimpses of events that Jayce has never experienced himself.

He sees snapshots of the lab, how it was after Viktor woke up from his coma. He sees books upon books of notes open, runes scrawled in both his and Viktor's handwriting, spread out across several desks. He feels the weight of a marker pen in his dominant hand, and sees someone else's terrified face staring back at him in the reflection of a mirror as they scribbled runes across their forehead.

He feels a deep seated terror closing his airways, as he hears the lab door open behind him. As he hears the familiar gait of Viktor's footsteps, tinged with a metallic after note. He feels sweat break on his forehead as his eyes dart from Viktor's approaching form in the mirror, to the useless ink marks standing out on their skin.

Viktor's voice is heavy with his accent as he calls out a greeting, an unnatural, unsettling undertone altering his voice ever so slightly. If Jayce did not know the man as intimately as he did, he would never have noticed the difference.

In the dream - no, the memory - the body that Jayce is hijacking, turns to meet Viktor as he approaches with slow, terrifying footsteps.

"Join me." He coaxes, a mockery of the sweet words he used to utter when inviting one or both of his lovers into bed after a long day spent in the lab.

His urging is denied. Viktor does not listen, and he takes by force. His hand coming down on Jayce's forehead and forces his submission.

By some miracle, the useless runes etched across his forehead ignite. The moment Viktor's hexcore enhanced fingertips touch the writing and he tries to forge a connection, the energy is abruptly converting into a power source for the runes which immediately burst to life. It send a sharp, siring warmth across Jayce's skin, and causes Viktor to recoil with a shout, ripping his hand away.

There is a weird, iridescent light in Jayce's peripheral vision, as Viktor's form stumbles back.

Jayce's head snaps down, and his eyes connect with little mirror on the desk, and he realises with a start that the simple pen marks had sunk down under his skin; having carved a permanent presence into the flesh.

"You- you shut me out." Viktor whispered, his voice oozing with hurt.

The words that shoot forth from Jayce's mouth are not his own as anger and betrayal coats them thickly. "You tried to erase me!" The body he is in snarls, "you tried to turn me into one of your mindless puppets!"

"Not erase, no! I would never erase you." Viktor tries to reassure, "I just wanted to help you see-" but the dream slips away before Jayce can be convinced.

Reader has helped Jayce to the water, where he drinks before tending to his wounded leg. He is dunking a rag into the water to clean his injuries, only to startle when he looks up and finds the white cloaked figure that led him here, looming on the other side of the water. He lets out a startled gasp. Hears Reader step up behind him.

"Oi!" They bellow, voice carrying effortlessly across the pond, to the figure, who turns their hooded head towards them. "Fuck off!"

Jayce blinks, and the figure is gone.

"Nosy bastard." Reader angrily mutters to themselves, bending down to help Jayce with his leg. "Keeping fucking tabs on me."

When Jayce finally claws his way out of the ravine and ends up on the highest point in the world, he discovers that the 'he' was in fact the Viktor of this world. And he realises almost immedaitely, that there is a heavy tension hanging between Reader and Mage Viktor. A mistrust that clearly upsets the mage, who calmly keeps his expressions smooth and his head turned away from the human. Whilst Reader gives him sad, uncomfortable looks whenever he is near.

The dormant statue of Jayce's alternative self drives a clear wedge between them.

When Jayce and Reader had first gotten up here, the latter had wasted no time in collecting some flowers and striding straight up to the statue, whilst Jayce came to realise that the marble figure looked unnervingly similar to him.

They had knelt beside it, and pressed a warm kiss to its temple, whispering a gentle, "good morning, Love," that sent Jayce's head reeling.

And then the hooded mage had appeared.

"Send him back." Reader commanded Mage!Viktor, expression frosty. "It is only fair."

"I was always going to." Mage Viktor argues back, to which they give him a sharp look.

Jayce is reeling from the hostility between the two. The worst fight he'd ever witnessed between the pair was when Reader misplaced one of Viktor's notebooks, and he'd lost his shit. But this, this was clearly an argument that had festered for far too long.

It was a shame Jayce couldn't afford to stick around to help them figure things out.

Viktor was raising his hand, the runes etched into his fingers beginning to glow a soft blue. Reader stood off to the side, arms crossed and their expression sad as they watched the spell begin to take hold.

It was a stray thought slamming into Jayce that had him grasping the borrowed hammer tighter, and throwing out a panicked, "wait!" Viktor's hand froze mid-cast, the spell freezing. Jayce licked his lips, and turned his attention to Reader. "Can you give me the runes that will help my Y/n?"

This dimension's Reader and Mage!Viktor exchange a tense look. "I could, but it will not help you." Reader tells Jayce, who feels a spike of panic. "You see, that interaction between them and The Herald happens whilst you're in this universe. It is down to them and luck if they manage to find the correct rune combination to remain separate from the hivemind."

"So there is nothing I can do."

Mage!Viktor shakes his head. And Reader gives him a look of sympathy. "Sometimes we're lucky, but most of the time, we fall to The Herald like everyone else he cures."

Mage!Viktor and Reader remaining in their ruined dimension. Reader made it a pastime to draw runes on statue!Jayce's forehead to try and revive him. Viktor tells them tiredly that what he has done to their lover is permanent and cannot be reversed. They tell him to go shove his pessimism up his cosmic ass.

They continue to try out different rune combinations day after day. And Viktor lingers nearby, watching them quietly and regretting everything that led them to this place. To these years spent without Jayce'.

He hates that the runes on Reader's forehead prevent him from offering them a glimpse into his thoughts. Prevent him from plainly showing them how remorseful he is. Prevent him from showing them truthfully just how many times he has tried to reverse his mistakes. How many times his tried and failed to bring Jayce back to them. But alas, the runes on their forehead keep him out, and give them enough peace of mind to exist near him, which is more than he truthfully deserves.

"Hand." Reader demands, pulling back their charcoal from Jayce's cracked, marble-like forehead. Viktor offers his hand as he does whenever they finish a combination, and they gently grab his wrist to touch his fingers to the marks. They're always gentle with him, regardless of how furious they are about him ending the world. And somehow the gentleness just makes everything that much worse.

"Though your determination is admirable, have you not grown bored yet?" He asks, as he asks everyday.

"No."

"This isn't working."

"It will."

"There are hundreds of thousands of possibilities. Endless possible combinations. There is no way you will be able to try them all."

"Jayce wouldn't give up." Reader snarks back, effectively shutting Viktor up. "If our roles were reversed, he wouldn't give up on us. Or did that Jayce's determination mean nothing to you." They add, motioning to the place the other Jayce had been stood just this morning. Freshly prepared for the hell he would have to deal with upon returning home.

Viktor lapses into silence. Eyes distant as he glances from his blank faced companion to the meadow of flowers he has cultivated for his late love.

"Hand." Reader demands of him a few moments later, and like clockwork, Viktor gives it to them. Their grasp on his wrist remains careful, but firm. His fingertips smudge the charcoal, and he reaches for that thread within Jayce's dormant subconsciousness. Fishing for a wall that will stop his probing touch, as it had within the individual sat beside him. But as it always seems to, Jayce's mind opens up to Viktor and his fingers sink in. Jayce's memories and emotions swirl beneath his fingertips, and Viktor offers a parting burst of love and adoration before withdrawing. Jayce slumbers on, if not a little easier with the magical nudge.

There is a huff beside him as he withdraws his hand back to his staff. Viktor glances in his peripheral vision at Reader, who tenderly reaches up with a damp, charcoal smudged rag to wipe the old runes away, before they take up their charcoal stick and draw new ones on.

There is a set to Reader's brow this time, a slight wobble in their lower lip that makes Viktor's stomach twist with guilt and longing. He wants to reach out and gather them to him, but he knows from experience that he will just end up getting shoved away, and they'll run from him. Use their runes to their advantage to conceal themselves from him before they inevitably come back for Jayce.

"I miss him." Reader whispers under their breath, and Viktor's eyes close tightly against the sheer pain in their tone.

"As do I." He reassured them, and they smiled tightly at him.

Wordlessly, they reached out for Viktor's hand, and he readily gave it to them. What stuns him however, is how instead of simply placing his fingers for him, they first bring his hand to their lips and press a kiss to the back of it. Their eyes shine when he stares at them in shock, the affection so deeply missed, that for a moment, he is rendered speechless.

"I am still mad at you." They clarify wetly, "but I miss you too."

And Viktor wants to reassure them that he is still here. He has been here the entire time, despite being a little different. Despite having changed. Deep down, he is still their Viktor, and no amount of magic or external influence could truly take him from them.

But he ends up voicing none of that, because they turn away, and lift his offered hand to Jayce's forehead. Viktor's fingertips make contact, and with a jolt, he feels the runes drawn there flare to life.

He lets out a cry, as his magic is snagged from his grasp, and turned to repel him. Reader feels it too, and their grip tightens on Viktor's wrist to yank his hand away.

Jayce's statue body makes a horrible cracking noise as his hands, still outstretched for his hammer, suddenly drop to his sides.

Viktor is on his feet in moments. He grabs Reader by the armpits and hauls them back, his staff raised defensively between them and the statue.

The statue that has begun to flake and twist. Sheets of marble white matter flake off of its ribcage, as its chest begins to rise and fall. It falls off the thing's face, revealing closed eyes and flaring nostrils. Then, the marble around the blown out portion of its head, begins to grow and round out into the shape of a skull, before it cracks like an egg and hair flops out. Familiar, deep brown locks.

With a gasp, Jayce comes back to life. The runes stand out like a crown across his forehead as his eyes fly open and dart all over. His hands pat at his bearded cheeks, along his nose, under his chin. Then he glances down to his body, clad in the very same outfit he had worn on the day Viktor absorbed him into the hivemind.

"I'm alive." He says breathlessly. And there is bewilderment in his voice. And relief. So much relief.

In Viktor's arms, Reader is practically vibrating out of their skin. "I told you." They whisper joyously. "I TOLD YOU!" They exclaim, turning in Viktor's grip to bless him with the widest, most excited smile he has ever seen them muster.

And then they're scrambling out of his arms and flinging themselves at a bewildered Jayce, who barely recovers quickly enough to grab them back. The pair mould together perfectly, as they always had. And the sight makes Viktor's heart ache. He lowers his staff, and takes a hesitant step forward, a private, relieved smile tugging at his own lips.

"V, get over here." Jayce encourages, one arm still around Reader, and the other outstretched to Viktor who hesitates.

"After everything I have done-" Viktor begins in astonishment, feeling like he doesn't deserve such easy forgiveness.

"I'm not asking." Jayce warns, "I'm telling you, V. Get over here."

And with a huff, Viktor lets Jayce take his extended hand and drag him down into a hug. And by the gods, has he missed the warm touch of this man.

There is still so much left unsaid between them. Apologies that need to be offered, and mistakes that need to be talked out. But for now, this was enough.

[missyandthemisfits]

Tokyo Revengers-Do They Believe In Sex Before Marriage?

18+ WARNING, NSFW

Mikey – Pfft, do you even have to ask? He’s got NO qualms about sneaking (it’s not sneaky at all) you off from the group in-between meetings and giving you the most satisfying of quickies, needy and demanding as he pushes you up against the alleyway wall. Quite the exhibitionist this one. No, the real challenge will be convincing Mikey that marriage is something worth having  ‘cause let’s face it, he ain’t buying what they’re selling. 

Draken – Honestly, he would much MUCH rather be wed before he’s plowing his impressive length down into your slick, but alas, he’s a man with needs and desires. That said, if you really wanna wait until marriage, he’s not forcing you to do anything you don’t want. He will, however, ask for other things, to give and to receive them. 

Mitsuya – Oh, he’s a man on a mission to be married with children, I can assure you of that. He probably wants to be married before making his dream of having you a moaning mess of a person beneath him come true. Buuut, he’s all for fooling around beforehand if you are. And if you wanna wait, he’s waiting, no questions asked. #Gentlemengonnagentleman

Hakkai – Baby boy really really wants to wait until marriage, he’s hella embarrassed about even thinking about you in those compromising positions, spread so deliciously for him and only him. But also, he’s incredibly weak willed when it comes to you and your wishes so despite weak protests, he’s not stopping anything. As a religious man though, he will feel guilty about it.  

Baji – He absolutely intends to sleep with you before he pops the question – gotta take the car out for a test drive before you purchase it, right? (Words uttered only to Chifuyu who is sworn nay threatened to secrecy). He fantasizes about being balls deep in you like clockwork and when he finally gets that chance? He’s not giving it up for anything. Feel free to try and stop him. 

Chifuyu – He’s torn, he really is. Has he fantasized about you exposed to him in a mating press? God yes. But does he also think there’s something incredibly and undeniably romantic about waiting until your wedding night? Also a strong yes. Decides he can’t make that type of decision, so whatever you want is what you’ll get, 100%. 

Takemichi – HaHA – let him tell it and ‘I-It’s only natural for a hotblooded young man to want those types of things! Right…?’ Grade A dork. But truth be told, he wants to wait as long as he possibly can (he’s afraid he’ll mess it all up) , he’s really aiming until the marriage thing but knows things just happen, like that one time you were clawing at his jeans on your knees- still fantasizes about that, the horn dog.

Atsushi – He wants to wait. His mother raised him on strong values and he’s not keen on disrespecting you or himself by taking things farther than he, or you, think they should go. Now, will he lap at your most sensitive bits like a dog in heat? Yea, but I mean, that’s not really going all the way, ya know? Gotta love loopholes. 

Nahoya – Maaaan oh man is this boy pervy. Within the first month, he’s got his hands on your ass with that devilish smirk, making all sorts of dirty jokes and disgusting remarks. Wants it and wants it bad. Tries his best to be respectful but has a very hard time stopping at just your sexy mouth, even if he just came. Stop him from going further and he will be frustrated, frowning for once. Doesn’t even know if he fully believes in marriage, he just wants to be inside you as long as you’ll tolerate him – or for as long he can tolerate you. 

Souya – The total and complete opposite of his twin – where Nahoya can be incredibly pushy and demanding, Souya is all light touchs and sweet nothings, asking permission for everything, from hand holding to kissing. In an ideal world, he’s waiting until you’re both married (which he plans on being) to make you his completely. Incredibly honored (and nervous) that you even asked him to pleasure you with his tongue, and what a surprisingly skilled tongue it is. Doesn’t expect more, doesn’t even expect reciprocation, perfectly happy just pleasing you - so when you do palm at his hardened and constrained member, lowering yourself to your knees well… who is he to deny you? Not like he could say ‘No’ if he tried. 

Kazutora – Poor dear is traumatized – doesn’t honestly know whether or not he believes in marriage and it shows in the way he stops everything at the question. He can’t promise you he’ll ever come to a real conclusion, but what he can promise you is that he will be by your side for as long as you’ll have him, a lifelong partner. His kiss goes from sweet to hungry in a matter of seconds though, and he’s on top of you before you know it, eyes begging for you to help him to his release. 

Hanma – Never even considers the idea of marriage before you, too preoccupied with curing his boredom to really care either way. However, he finds himself considering the notion, genuinely excited about it and suddenly, he can’t wait. He’s not looking for anyone else once he’s locked in, sincerely – but getting him to stop his long fingers from slowly moving in and out of you was something you always struggled with. Fuck, would you be able to keep your own promise at this point? 

 Taiju – You might be surprised but as someone who devotes himself to his religion, he thinks it’s only right to wait until marriage, almost impatiently waiting, praying, for the day you take his damn near monstrous length like the good slut you are. Until then, he’s more than happy to prep you with his admittedly very large fingers. Good luck! 

Kokonoi – More concerned with whether or not you’re able to have an intellectual conversation with him really, pretty low libido. More than likely, he’ll wait until marriage, it’s not a bother or inconvenience to him in the slightest. More than happy to have your back against his chest, lazily playing with your naughty bits while enjoying a good movie, chin resting on your shoulder. May ask for reciprocation every now and then, but he’s a whiner so that’s fun. 

[ilovemitsuya]

Hello, here to request a lil somethin somethin (since you said you’d kiss anyone who did ;))

I really enjoyed the fic u posted with the sick MC soooo I was thinking abt something with either Sylus or Xavier where MC has a secret sketchbook where she draws pretty portraits of him but then he finds out by chance and how would he react?

muah

sylus x reader

decided to do sylus since I know him a bit better

thank you for requesting ♡

I sat cross legged on the floor in front of Sylus’s room, a sketchbook balanced delicately in my lap.

The scratching of my pencil against the paper was the only sound I could focus on as I sketched the corner of his eye.

I had filled pages and pages of this sketchbook with him. Something I could look at while I was in Linkon away from Sylus.

The door to his room was slightly open, I could still hear his voice, giving orders to someone through his phone. I took this chance to keep drawing his face while he wasn’t looking.

The pages of my sketchbook were filled with these little moments. Moments I stole when he wasn't paying attention. He didn't know, of course. I never intended for him to find out.

Suddenly, I heard his door fling open, making me move in a panic I slammed the sketchbook shut, but my fingers fumbled over the pages. I became clumsy in my rush to hide it.

The door to his room flung open without warning, and I jolted, nearly dropping the sketchbook as my heart leapt into my throat.

I clutched the book to my chest, as though holding it there could somehow make it invisible.

“Oh hey Sylus..”

He was already walking toward me.

"What's this?" His voice was calm, but there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes.

He tilted his head slightly, that smirk of his tugging at the corners of his lips. I knew he wasn't going to let it go now.

"Nothing.”I stammered, my hands clutching the sketchbook harder as if I could somehow keep it from him.

His eyes narrowed slightly, a dangerous sort of amusement playing across his features as he approached me. Before I could react, he used his evol to snatch the book from my grasp with ease.

"Sylus, give it back!" I reached out instinctively, but it was too late. He held the book out of my reach, flipping it open with a flick of his fingers.

I could only watch. I stood frozen as his eyes scanned the pages.

"You've been drawing me.” he said finally, his voice low but steady. It wasn't a question.

I chuckled nervously after being caught red handed.

“It’s not what it’s looks like. That’s not you.”

“Oh? That’s not me? “ He turned the sketchbook to my direction and showed me an unfinished drawing of him and Mephisto.

“Must be someone else who looks exactly like me and has a crow by his side.”

I swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. "I was drawing Mephisto you just got in the way.” That was a stupid thing to say.

“Yeah, whatever you can say to make yourself feel better, Sweetie.”

Sylus moved to the doorway, the sketchbook still in his hands. He kept flipping back and forth through the pages, his eyes scanning each portrait with a sharp gaze, though I couldn't exactly tell what he was thinking.

He closed the book with a quiet snap and looked down at me, that familiar smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"You've captured me rather well.” he said, his tone deceptively casual.

As he stared at the sketchbook cover I took the chance to snatch it away from his grasp.

But then he raised the sketchbook way too high - basically dangling it out of my reach.

“Nice try, Sweetie.”

"Sylus!" I protested, half laughing but also genuinely desperate to get the book back.

He arched a brow, his smirk deepening as he watched me from above. "What? You don't think I'll keep this for myself?"

"You're going to give that back." I said, though the smile tugging at my lips made it hard to sound serious.

I shot to my feet, reaching for the sketchbook, but of course, he held it effortlessly above his head.

Sylus was tall, and he knew exactly how to use it to his advantage. I stood on my toes, stretching my arms as far as they would go. He didn't even have to move. He just stood there, his dark eyes watching me with amusement as I tried in vain to reach it.

He tilted his head, as if he was considering.

"Hmm... I'm not so sure." His voice had that playful edge now, the kind that told me he was fully enjoying my frustration.

"You've been keeping these drawings hidden from me. Perhaps I should keep the sketchbook hidden from you too."

I jumped a little, trying to swipe it from his hand, but he simply raised his arm higher, looking impossibly tall and completely unreachable.

"Not fair.” I huffed.

He chuckled, his deep voice vibrating through the room. "I don't remember agreeing to play fair." His teasing tone made my eye twitch.

"What do I have to do to get it back?"

His gaze softened just a fraction, though his smirk remained.

"You'll have to earn it." he said, lowering his arm slightly, as if teasing me with the possibility that I might reach it.

"I drew those for you.” I pointed out, trying to reason with him, though it was clear he was having too much fun to give in so quickly.

"Which is why I should keep them, don't you think?" He raised the sketchbook just as I lunged for it again, barely missing it by an inch. His smirk deepened yet again.

I let out an exaggerated groan, rubbing my forehead dramatically. "Sylus, please!"

After another beat of silence, he finally relented but not without one final move. He dropped the sketchbook just enough for me to almost grab it, then caught me off guard by wrapping an arm around my waist, pulling me close as I stretched out for it. His breath was warm against my ear as he leaned down slightly, the sketchbook still just out of reach.

"If you want it…" he whispered, "ask nicely."

I swallowed, rolling my eyes

"Please?”

He chuckled softly, his grip around my waist loosening just enough to let me slip out of his hold. With a triumphant grin, I snatched the sketchbook from his hand before he could change his mind, holding it close to my chest as if I had won some great victory.

Sylus watched me, his smirk softening into something more amused, more tender.

"Do it again.” he said, with a casual grace.

“Do what again?” I looked up at him confused.

"Keep drawing me."

I stared at him for a moment, trying to process his words. His eyes never leaving mine.

His lips twitched into a small smile. "I’m yours to draw, it seems."

I smiled softly, the tension in my chest easing.

As he turned to leave, he paused at the door, glancing over his shoulder.

"Next time," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips, "ask me to sit for you."

Then, with a final glance, he turned and left the room.

I stared at the book in my hands unable to hide the smile spreading across my face.

if you requested already dw! I’ll be uploading your requests soon ♡ tysm

[bonedo-enthusiast]

bnd's kinks 𐂐◯𓇋

A/N: i haven't written smut in years but i like how this turned out! :D i am canonically a sapphic, so idk what possessed me to write this but here we are. 😔 lowercase is intended as always, enjoy. :)

genre: smut

tws: kinks!, explicit sexual content, bdsm themes

pairing: legal!bnd x afab!reader (but i tried to make it gn!reader mostly)

wc: 2,188

MDNI!! (i have three other pg imagines on my blog, read those instead :p)

Sungho

praise, service top/bottom, foreplay, teasing (sort of), begging

i think he just really wants to make you feel good, by any means necessary, although he prefers to be gentle. 

he kind of strikes me as more vanilla than anything else, but he would love telling you how much he’s enjoying things. 

you’re on the bed, legs spread, with sungho slowly running his fingers across your skin. 

he looks down at you lovingly. “you’re so beautiful.” and you know he means it, with the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only other person in the world. 

he’s very slow, very deliberate because why would he rush things when he has all the time in the world? 

if he could, he would spend hours with you underneath him like this, your little whimpers like music to his ears. 

but sungho would feel bad making you wait oh so patiently for him, so he’d do exactly what you want. 

first, he’d trail soft kisses down your skin, making sure to suck and nip as he went. 

he’d attach himself to your nipple, swirling his tongue around it slowly while bringing his hand down to your inner thighs. 

your gasps and moans would only fuel his hard-on, its presence evident underneath his boxers. 

he liked it when you were completely naked and when he still had an article or two of clothing on because sungho knew you would often beg so sweetly, something he found so endearing. 

you begging for him… the love of his life needing him in a way that only he could satisfy. 

sungho was always good at drawing orgasms out of you, making you have at least two before he’d even consider orgasming himself. 

but when it comes to that point, he’d become a bit feverish. his grip on your hips would be almost tight enough to bruise as he pounded into you with vigor. 

he’d continue kissing you sloppily, praises leaving his mouth one after the other. 

“you feel so good… so pretty. shit, you’re so fucking hot…” 

Riwoo

mommy kink, praise, humiliation, dick slapping, hints of dacryphilia

i think riwoo’s usually pretty innocent-minded, and too shy to initiate anything even if he is having impure thoughts. 

so riwoo would just be minding his business, maybe playing league of legends on his pc. then you’d hug his neck from behind, resting your chin on his head. “how’s my baby doing?” 

he would blush at the use of ownership, but not take his eyes off of the screen. “good. my team’s winning.” 

“oh, that’s great! i’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” you run your fingers through his hair, causing a chill to go down riwoo’s spine. “can i join you? i’d like to watch.” 

he nods and you pull up a chair next to his, resting your head against his shoulder but not in a way that would hinder his gaming. 

he’d feel more nervous now, having an audience. he wants to make you proud, wants to hear you praise him again, so he locks in all of his attention to the screen in front of him. 

which is why he doesn’t at first notice your hand on his thigh, until your fingers crest against the edge of his waistband. 

he lets out a gasp and breaks his eye contact with the screen to glance at you. “wh…what are you doing?”

“what do you mean? i’m not doing anything, sweetheart. just keep playing your game.” your voice comes out innocent, but riwoo’s been dating you long enough to know that you in fact know exactly what you’re doing. 

but he also knows better than to protest, especially since he’s already a bit turned on from you just complimenting him. 

you notice that fact with the way his dick is already semi-hard. you let out a laugh and lightly slap his dick, making him let out a whine. “you’re already turned on and i haven’t even done anything. how pathetic…” 

riwoo inhales a shaky breath and blinks several times, trying his best to focus. 

when you undo his pants and pull down his boxers, he tries not to squirm even as the cool air in the room hits his fully erect dick.

you wrap a hand around it, gently running your thumb up and down the shaft.

he starts bucking his hips, so you remove your hand and slap his dick again.

riwoo whines and tears start to rim his eyes. “p-please…” 

“hmm? please what, baby?”

“please touch me… more… i need more.”

“you need more, huh? so the slut isn’t appreciating what i’m giving him? it’s not enough?”

he gulps. “n-no, it’s good. i-i just–” he’s cut off when you lick the tip of his dick, a strangled moan escaping his lips. 

“oh? did you like that? does that make my slut’s pretty dick feel good?” 

“yes… more please…” 

“please what?”

“mommy. please, mommy…” 

and how could you say no to that?

Jaehyun

praise, humiliation, choking, masochism, bondage

i think jaehyun just gives me major “i need to be punished” vibes ??

he’s a very hyper man, and i imagine he’d probably get on your nerves fairly easily.

“jaehyun, can you stop running around like that? i’m trying to watch this lecture.”

“i’m not running around.” he pouts. “i’m just having fun.”

“can you have fun more quietly?”

“it’s not my fault my partner cares more about their grades than their sweet, loving boyfriend.” 

“is that what this is about? you just want attention?” you scoff.

“maybe… i just miss you.” jaehyun frowns.

“so your plan is to piss me off? you never learn, do you? how many times do i have to punish you before you actually start to learn? you’re just a dumb slut, aren’t you?” 

jaehyun’s jaw would go slack, both surprised and turned on all in one.

“i asked you a question.”

“uh. y-yes…” 

“you’re gonna have to beg for it. convince me that you’re worth my time.”

“please…” he got down on his knees in front of you, resting his head on your thighs. “i want you so bad…” 

“do you now? well, why don’t you make yourself useful and go get the box?”

jaehyun bites his lip and nods before racing into your shared bedroom to grab the box full of sex toys that you own. when he gets back, your laptop is no longer on your lap and your eyes are fully on him. just what he wanted. 

he instinctively reaches down and palms himself through his shorts, until your voice breaks him out of his haze. “and what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“s-sorry, i really didn’t mean to.” jaehyun says quickly, placing the box in front of you. “really… it was an accident.” 

“accident or not, you’re testing my patience. looks like what i originally had in mind won’t be enough. i’m going to have to fuck some sense into you.” 

he doesn’t even protest, the arousal swirling within him. it’s almost too much, with the way that his dick strains against the only barrier between you and him. 

“lay down on the couch.” you say, opening the box and pulling out a pair of fuzzy handcuffs.

jaehyun’s eyes widen. “w-wait! i wanna touch you!”

“too bad. if you’re going to act like a slut, i’m going to treat you like one.” you put the handcuffs on him before attacking his lips with your own. you press his hands down over his head and straddle his legs, your clothed heat brushing against his erection.

“f-fuck…” jaehyun groans in between your kisses. 

you pull away only to wrap a hand around his soft neck, squeezing gently as you rub yourself against him. “do you like that, slut?” 

“yes, i like it so m-much…” 

“mm, good boy.”

Taesan

dom/sub, humiliation, edging, sadism, teasing

i love taesan as much as the next onedoor, but this man can be mean 😭 like he’s a sweetheart don’t get me wrong but he really has his moments where i’m like damn dude. 

so i think that this could easily be applied to his sexual preferences. 

being a songwriter of boynextdoor does not come without its challenges, so he’s often stressed and worn out from the sheer amount of responsibilities he has placed on him. so of course he needs an outlet for all that stress… cue you, his wonderful loving partner.

you’d hear the front door to the apartment close all the way from your shared bedroom, a huge smile on your face knowing that it was taesan coming home after a long day. 

you race into the living room to greet him, finding him standing there oddly still with a dark look in his eyes. 

you immediately freeze, mouth slightly agape as he slowly trails his eyes up your body. when they meet your own, you can see the desire within them. “go back to the bedroom. when i come back there, i expect you to be fully naked.” 

you stand there for a few more seconds, taking in his words before nodding and hurriedly rushing back to the bedroom. 

you’ve barely taken off your underwear, which was your last article of clothing, when taesan bursts into the room. 

you could practically feel the heat of his eyes as he approaches you, not bothering to close the door. “fuck, i’ve been waiting all day for this…” 

he immediately wraps you up in his arms and kisses you passionately before (gently) throwing you on the bed and crawling on top of you.

he makes haste with discarding his own clothing before attaching his lips to your neck, you writhing below him with soft whimpers. 

if you’d squirm too much, he’d hold your hips as a warning. 

but if you squirmed again regardless, he would slap your inner thigh and grab your jaw, making eye contact with you. “don’t fucking move.” 

which is easier said than done, and he knows that but doesn’t care because he loves being mean. <3

so he just watches as you helplessly try to stay still, even as he brings his fingers dangerously close to your sensitive areas. 

“aww, poor baby… you want to move so bad, don’t you?”

“taesan, please just fuck me.”

“tsk… you should know better than to ask for that so early on. what would be the fun in that? i think i’d much rather watch you come undone with just my fingers alone. wouldn’t you like that too, baby?” 

you nod feverishly, choking out a moan when his finger circles your hole.

and when he’s fingering you with intensity, you know you’re about to come undone exactly as he wanted. 

your moans increase and get higher in pitch, your orgasm right there.

you feel it building up, just about to come when taesan suddenly pulls his fingers away, leaving you clenching around nothing.

“n-no! taesan, please! please, please…”

“shhh…” he places a finger against your lips. “just relax. you’ll get what you want, baby… just let me have some fun first, yeah?” and then he’s back to attacking your neck. 

Leehan

switch, role play, power dynamics 

idk why but i just think leehan would find the idea of role play funny, something he’d want to try out as a joke… but seeing you in that sexy nurse outfit has his head spinning in a way he didn’t plan on. 

the way the tight uniform shows off every one of your curves has leehan immediately wanting to pounce on you like he’s some animal. 

but he’d restrain himself, because he’s curious where this will go. 

and you being the fantastic nurse that you are means that you have to give him a well-rounded checkup. 

so of course you have to test every nerve to make sure that his motor functions are working properly. 

you start with the usual, gently tapping your rubber mallet against his knee before working your way up. 

he responds well to your touch, his breath hitching when you brush against his dick, it already being hard. 

which is convenient because you need to make sure that was in working order, too. 

“do you regularly engage in sexual intercourse, mr. kim?”

leehan is taken aback by your question, blushing a little. “yes…”

“and do you use protection, sir?”

he gulps, liking the way you were referring to him. it became physically evident in the way that his dick twitched ever so slightly, begging for friction. “yes.” 

“good. very, very good.” you make a show of writing on a blank notepad. “i’m going to need to further examine you, especially because it’s been a while since you’ve been to get a checkup.” 

you scoot closer to him on the stool and gesture at his pants. “would you mind taking these off, mr. kim?” 

leehan nods and quickly unbuttons and unzips his pants, pulling them down to around his ankles. the tent in his boxers stand proud, a small patch of wetness on the cotton fabric. 

you reach out and palm him through the fabric, achingly slow, earning a hiss from leehan. 

“just relax, alright? this examination might take a while…”

[luminique]

the post abt tying a bow around lighters biceps has me thinking abt that thing where you test out different lipstick shades by covering ur partner in kiss marks n seeing what one looks best,,,,, and no I would not limit myself to his face

i think about this prompt like A LOT. as someone who lurvesss wearing lipstick, i genuinely think that he’d be the perfect candidate for it.

lucy prefers to ask you for makeup recommendations and purchasing it. not that she doesn’t trust lighter but after talking to you, you seemed to know more about it than he did. whenever it came to purchasing makeup, she’d ask you to go along with lighter to lumina square.

this was also a good way to buy some new products for yourself, a win win situation. there was a huge sale at the store for some products and many of them were lipsticks, you couldn’t possibly pass up on this opportunity. you both arrive back in blazewood, giving all of the girls what they requested for. with your own goodies in hand, it was time to do a little try-on to see which ones were worth the money.

back in your room, you began trying each one. swatching them on your hand then on your lips. the colors all looked good on you but there were a few things you couldn’t really test out this way. as if he magically knew, lighter knocked on your door, waiting for your permission before entering.

“burnice told me that there’s another nitro-fu- what are you doing?” he stopped in his tracks as he watched you try to kiss the back of your hand. he was confused at the sight, unsure of how to react. “did i… come at a bad time or is there a problem with my kissing?” he asked bluntly, thinking that there was some sort of explanation as to what you were doing. he didn’t think he was bad at kissing but maybe you were just to nice to tell him?

“oh, no. you’ve come at just the right time. i need to test these out and i think you’re the perfect test subject.” you held out your lipsticks to him and at first, he had flashbacks of when the girls put makeup on him because he lost in a drinking game against burnice. as your lover, he’d do anything you asked but he was ready to raise his hands up in protest to not be embarrassed again.

your smile never faltered though and you could see through his sunglasses. “just sit down and let me kiss you,” you reassured him and just like that, he was sat on the edge of your bed, obediently awaiting your kisses. in the privacy of your room, he could be as unapologetically needy and in love with you without having to act all cool.

your hand felt so gentle on his face, as if you’d hurt him in some way. you pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, the lipstick leaving quite the mark on him. he was a little bummed that it wasn’t on his lips but hey, a kiss is a kiss. you continued peppering his face in kisses, taking a moment between each one to change your lipstick.

he was turning into putty, each kiss made his heart beat faster. he wasn’t sure how many different kinds of lipstick you had, they were all the same to him. by the end of it, his face and neck were practically covered with your kisses. you examined each one carefully, he was beginning to feel a little shy from how close you were to him.

“you’re turning red, lighter. i can’t decide which lipstick looks good if your cheeks are the same shade!” you told him jokingly. this made his blush even worse actually, trying to hide his embarrassment by clearing his throat. “i think you look good in all of them…” he mumbled to himself, knowing that you’d hear it too.

“i want to know which one would look good when i kiss you. i think the third one has the nicest contrast with your hair.” your fingers went up to his hair, twirling it as you took a good look at your ‘masterpiece’. when you kiss him…. his thoughts were everywhere now, just the idea that people know you left those marks on him had his head spinning.

he pulled down his glasses just a little to be able to look at you. “we can always test even more, i’m all yours,” the words fell out of his mouth with no hesitation. both of you had nothing else to do for the rest of the day, there was definitely a lot more of his body that you could try your lipstick on until you were satisfied.

[endless-ineffabilities]

In Your Modern World (a Chemical Override minishot)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: so this lil baby is set some time in part 5, around late August, when they were at the height of their initial relationship. Also, this references the bonus chapter In the Modern World. No taglist for surprise minishots - I hope this will find the chem ov readers in due time! <3

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The reader and Ewan finally watch his music video. With some interruptions...

"So the concept to this is very straightforward. It's about Martin, and he's a recluse, an aimless youth of sorts, and..." Ewan's words come out in a nervous flurry as he places your laptop atop the duvet. "Do you remember what I told you about it? I mean... that was nearly two months ago, was it? But - "

You can't help but smile at his endearing ramble. "Baby," you say soothingly, letting him wrap an arm around your shoulders. "I'm sure I'll love it."

He presses a soft kiss to your temple. "I haven't seen the final cut myself. I hope I did well."

"It's already the music video of the year," you say with a smirk, brushing your lips against the corner of his, "as long as you're in it."

His cheeks flush, the sight of it making your heart flutter. You can't resist leaning in to kiss him again. It's meant to be momentary, but his hand finds its way to the back of your head, keeping you in place so that the kiss deepens. His other hand snakes its way underneath your shirt - his shirt, oversized on your frame - kneading the flesh of your waist.

"Kissing was a bad idea," he rasps. "Now I don't wanna do anything else."

"Oh, oh!" you gasp and pull back when his hand starts to inch your shirt upward, "Hold on there, baby. Music video time."

He groans in protest, his forehead resting against yours, a teasing smile on his lips. "Alright, then. But the next time I kiss you, there'll be no interruptions."

"Fine," you roll your eyes. Then you reach out and press play on the video.

It opens with Ewan as Martin, black wig and all, brooding heavily as he scrutinises his slimey pet. You spot something in the background immediately. It's right there for viewers to see.

Before you can process it, the shot quickly cuts to another scene of him with a thin paintbrush in his hand, hunched over some figurine. Then another, and another... Martin in his room, going about his humdrum and aimless routine. You spot it - yourself - flashing in and out of the frame.

To your side, Ewan is silently chuckling at your surprised expression. Your lips are parted slightly, eyes squinting like you don't believe what you just saw. He waits for it, gazing at you fondly, forgetting all about his piece of work playing on the laptop.

You let your thoughts win over, hitting pause.

As if in slow motion, you turn to face him, the question practically bubbling from your lips. "Was that me?"

"What was that, darlin'?" He absently twirls a lock of your hair, trying - and failing - to keep a straight face.

You raise your eyebrows, challenging him with a look that says Really?

He laughs. "Yes, I asked to have a poster of Alyna Rivers on Martin's wall. Seemed fitting."

"Seemed... fitting?" you reply. "A grunge boy with a poster of a medieval fantasy character? How does that make sense?"

"Martin likes her," he shrugs, grinning mischievously, "What can I say?"

"Martin?" you tease. "Or Ewan Mitchell?"

"Martin likes you," he taps the tip of your nose, "But Ewan... is in love with you. Completely obsessed."

You shake your head, unable to fight the rush of pleasant warmth to your cheeks.

"There is a difference, darling," he clarifies in a husky whisper.

You glance back at the screen, where the video is paused on a shot of Martin sitting in the car.

"Well, he is pretty hot," you admit with a smirk. "All dirty and reckless."

"Hmm," he chews on his lip, "is he?"

Your hand moves to press play again, but his own darts out to stop you.

His voice is a low, seductive rumble. "Think you can fix him? Think you can fix poor Martin?"

Your lips stretch out in a sultry smile, eyes glinting at his playful instigation. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, giving in to the pull of distraction. The rest of the music video can wait; he's in it anyway, he's got some clue as to how it goes.

"I think I can, I think I can," you whisper humorously in that famous playground chanting, desire bleeding through your words.

"Lucky Martin," he breathes against your skin, "should I be jealous?"

Instead of answering, you lean forward, pressing your body flush against his and reclaiming his lips, remembering when he said that the next time you do, there will be no interruptions.

Martin can wait. Or he can watch, in the back of your minds, why the hell not?

You push the laptop aside, then climb on top of your boyfriend, straddling his thighs. He smirks openly, in pure satisfaction.

You ask, "Why don't we give him something to be jealous about?"

[satorusugurugurl]

The Single Dad Club!

Summary: The Single Dad club consisted of Grto Suguru, Gojo Satoru and Nanami Kento! But with summer upon them, the men find themselves ladies who are willing to have them leave their self-appointed club!

Pairing: Nanami Kento x FAB!Reader

Word Count: 6,761

Warning: Mermaid performer, near drowning, mentions of CPR, flirting, fluff, cursing, oral sec (female receiving) smut, p in v, unprotected sex

A/N: Here’ part Ine of my Single Dad Club Summer Series! I had so much fun writing this! Ahdjfkkfkkd love me some Sexy dilfs!! 😈💚

Part Two Part Three

The smell of salt water was intense as you sat on the pool's edge, which led down into the aquarium. You lifted your legs, making your silicone, iridescent mermaid tail flop in the water. It was almost showtime, and you could not wait to get into the water. You loved your job. Being a mermaid performer was one of the most incredible things you ever decided to do. Not only could you spend time around those you loved with all your heart, but you also got to swim and make children smile daily.

The door to the waiting area opened, and you looked over your shoulder at Shoko and Utahime, who wandered inside. The young couple were your coworkers. They weren’t mermaid performers like you were, but they still worked at the aquarium. Shoko was one of the marine veterinarians, and Utahime was one of the researchers at your facility. They would stay in your Hideaway room while you performed in case something terrible happened and they needed to jump in.

Not that kind of thing ever happened. But it was just a precaution. Something the duo insisted on you doing. Despite the fact one of the tour guides could help you if they decided to jump over the railing and into the deep tank, you were always in. but if you were being honest, if anyone were to help you from narrowly drowning, if that situation ever came to be, you would want it to be your two of your closest friends.

“Hey, you two!” You flopped your tail back into the water, repeatedly splashing it around.

“Hey.” Shoko yawned as Utahime helped ease you out of your lawn chair. “We were just talking about going to the bar after work. Do you want to come with us? Lord knows we all need a drink after this week.”

“Oh, sure! I have shows until six tonight.”

Shoko stuck her nose up, rolling her eyes. “You're going to be a prune by then.” you scooted over to the edge of the tank, dipping your tail in.

“I will gladly be a prune if I can make some kids smile.”

“Yeah, yeah, children, great fun.” Shoko sighed, leaning against the wall. “Just remember, if you need help, don't panic; Utahime and I will watch the screen. But you're always careful.”

You glanced up at the flat-screen television attached to the wall. The screen played a live feed of the tank you would be in. That way, if anything happened to you, your friends would be able to see you and come to your aid. Likely for you, that sort of thing has never happened in your three years working at the aquarium. So, it was more like a precautionary step for the aquarium. They didn’t want to deal with the lawsuit if anything were to happen.

But you were a very good swimmer. So you didn’t doubt it would be fine on your own if anything happened. You would need to keep a head and trust your instincts.

“Alrighty, I’ll see you guys in about thirty minutes.”

Easing yourself into the water, you took a deep breath before diving. Using all your abdominal strength, you kicked and swam further down underneath the small tube that let out into the main tank. The tank was full of different kinds of fish, making the whole mermaid experience more genuine. There were other rock formations, some netting (despite your protest) that was placed around some of the boulders at the bottom of the tank where you would typically lie during your shows.

With all the rocks and the netting in the fish, it felt like the children saw a mermaid in their natural environment. You had them throw a couple of treasure chests to make the experience more fun for the children to watch you dig through them, pulling out seashells and rocks. You all loved the setup you and the aquarium directors had created.

You could hear children screaming and shouting from the vibrations against the tank wall almost immediately, reminding you why you did precisely what you did. It was showtime! You loved making them believe and just a little magic and turning your head, waving at the blurs you see through the water. You couldn’t quite make out their shapes, but their squeals of happiness were all that mattered to you.

You weren’t in this gig for the money or the viral videos that usually came with your performances. You were in it to make children’s lives more magical. You press up against the glass, staring down at five blurry shapes. You couldn’t make out much of their features; the wide mattered to you.

You pressed your two fingers to your lips and moved them as fast as you could as you blew out a breath of air, thus making a heart-shaped bubble hit the glass before you. Screams interrupted from the other side of the thick glass; a couple of the shapes jumped up and down, and all the others stood and watched idly. You performed a couple of other bubble tricks for the crowd before swimming past one of the rock formations, where an air hose was kept out of sight so the magic wasn’t ruined for the children.

With air in your lungs, you swim back to the wall, slowly, swimming past each of the blurry figures, flipping and doing the tricks you had perfected over the years of training, from doing front and backflips to swimming and playing with the fish. Every move you make is strategically plotted and practiced. You were always ready to do whatever it took to make your shows enjoyable. If that meant you had to pucker your lips up in front of a fish.

It was the closest thing you had to a spicy date. It has been so long since you had gotten any action. You blew rings of bubbles out; you made yourself a mental note to download a dating app as soon as your shift was over. The need for human contact was so strong that you would honestly sell your voice to a witch, meaning you could go on a date and maybe take said date home and show him what else you could do with your mouth other than blowing bubbles.

Putting those horny dirty thoughts to the back of your mind, you flipped upside down against the tank wall, placing your hands against the glass separating you and the children on the other side. Too small reached out, putting their palms against yours. And while your vision was blurry from being underwater, you could make out the child's glittering bright light brown eyes on the other side of the glass.

You both stared into each other’s eyes, almost heating each other souls in a way. The child kept your gaze before looking over his shoulder, shouting something to an oversized shape behind him. The shape came forward before crouching down next to the child. Much like the child’s eyes, the man who stared at you had eyes that pierced through your soul. They were gorgeous honey-brown hues that searched your face long before he focused on the child.

They exchange words before the man gently strokes tufts of pink hair before his eyes focus back on you. Something in his watchful gaze that was almost readable, and that might’ve been because you were underwater and couldn’t see clearly, but the look had your heart racing. Flipping back up, you floated in front of the man, smiling wide, before blowing him a heart-shaped bubble with both hands.

From how the child jumped up and down, you assumed he enjoyed you flirting slightly with his parental figure. The way several other joined in and seemingly to whistle and clap that had the man rubbing his neck, shaking his head. Your lungs were beginning to burn with the need for oxygen, so you winked at the stranger before heading back to your air hose.

Just as you were about to turn to reach for it, something tugged on your silicone tail, trapping you from moving further. You saw the net when you looked back to see what you were caught on. Your bosses insisted on putting you down in the tank with you. Despite you telling them it was a terrible idea, they were persistent in using it because it would make the scene look more authentic. They didn’t care at all if it was a drowning risk for you.

In times like these, there is no reason to panic. The more you panicked, the more you struggled, the harder it would be to tell your breath. You cautiously turned your body, trying to free yourself from the netting. But you only succeeded in tightening it further around your tail. You tugged and pulled the mess ropes; the air was escaping your lungs, sending bubbles floating to the top of the tank. This was bad; the stupid nets were wrapped around you so tight that you couldn’t even slip off the tail that weighed about forty pounds. More bubbles escape your lungs as you frantically begin trying to free yourself. And for the first time in several years of being relaxed and collected, you did something you should never do.

You panicked.

You opened your mouth, yelling as if someone would hear you. Maybe Shoko would see the distress you were clearly in on the camera and come rushing to your aid at any second. But if she hasn’t noticed thus far, he wasn't sure if she would even notice until you had drowned. Salty water burned your inner nose as you began inhaling water; panic told your lungs to breathe when there was no air.

This was it, your final moments! Your death was so ridiculous. It would be featured on one of those terrible daytime shows like ‘101 Ways to Die!’ You always thought you would go down as one of the greatest mermaid performers. Instead, you would be laughed at for such an idiotic rookie mistake.

Your vision began to blur as darkness settled in around your vision as you lost consciousness.

A splash sounded from the distance as you shut your eyes. Hands quickly worked at the nets wrapped around you before you were moving. It was a white noise as warm hands pressed up and down over your chest before lips pressed over your mouth and blew into it. The exact process repeated before the white noise turned into panicked yelling and shouting as you coughed up water, your eyes widening.

“There we go!” The same warm hands gently rolled you onto your side as you retched up more water, your lungs burning in satisfaction as you gripped the damp pants of your savior. “Keep coughing; get all that water up; good job.”

“Way to go, Nanami!!” A man shouted from behind as exhaustion washed over you.

“I need a blanket now!” The man you were clinging to shouted around, his hands gently gripping your upper arms, pulling you towards his chest. Breathing in deeply, you sighed as he rubbed his hands up and down your back, heating your body. “I got you, breathe, shhh.”

You clung harder to him, sniffling as you fought back tears of fear and relief. “Nanami.” Another man sounded behind you before a warm blanket wrapped around your shivering body.

“Thank you, Geto.” The man, Nanami, shushed you again as you began breathing more steadily, your grip on him loosening. “Are you okay? Lightheaded? Chest pain?”

“J-Just c-cold.”

“I need to get you out of this tail.” he goes to tug it off, but you stop him. “The children have been ushered away; please let me help you.”

You never took your tail off in front of people, but you had no choice. One brisk nod was all he needed before your hero tugged the tail down past your legs, freeing you from its confining prison. The second your legs were free, the man wrapped your legs around him, keeping your chest pressed firmly against each other as he stroked your back. His gentle and kind touch made you feel warm in no time.

You both stayed like that, wrapped up in each other until a door slammed open. “Shoko! Over here! Utahime yelled as your friends ran towards you.

“I can take it from here, sir.”

“No, I’m okay, I got her.”

“But sir—”

“Nanami is the best pediatrician in the city.” One of the other men around you voiced clear annoyance in his tone. “Give him some space to work.”

You turned your head, looking up at your friend. “S-Shoko, I’m okay.” The shaking tone of your voice had your friend turning in your direction, long dark hair flowing. “Can you take my tail back to my car?”

“Of course.” She stroked wet strands of your hair back. “I’m sorry we were watching the camera, but I think it’s busted. One second, we watched you swimming, and then someone told us one of our performers almost drowned.”

Nanami hummed, drawing your attention for the first time. “Another thing wrong with this establishment. Putting fishnets down in a tank with an actor and broken cameras, this is a lawsuit waiting to happen.” Warm honey-brown eyes met yours, and you realize they are the same eyes you had been staring at while performing.

“It’s you—”

“It’s me.”

Your heart felt like it was about to explode as he acknowledged that it was him that you had that intimate moment with when inside the tank. Warmth spread across your cheeks as the man who saved your life grinned down at you. Was this real life? Or did you drown and go to heaven? That was the only reason an insanely hot pediatrician would smile down at you like he was.

He pulled back slightly, examining your face. “How are you feeling now? Are you warm now?”

“Honestly, I’m so embarrassed; I’ve never had an incident happen in the three years I’ve been doing this.”

“And it was not your fault. Whoever’s dumb idea it was to throw fishnet in. There is the one blame.”

There wasn’t much more you could say to that because Nanami was right. That wasn’t your fault. You had been persistent on them taking out the net for you, other mermaid performers, and the fish in the tank. Unfortunately, the aquarium thought it was best for business. Their greed nearly cost you your life today, so as much as you like your job, it might be time for you to start looking elsewhere places that consider their performer's lives.

“Thank you.” You said as Nanami listed you up, carrying you to the break room. “For saving my life.”

“My son pointed out. It looked like you were stuck. I, of course, was cautious at first, taking note of the situation myself before jumping into the tank. I just did with any good Samaritan would.”

“I owe you whatever you want, and I would gladly pay you back tenfold.”

Nanami walked into the break room, gently sitting you on one of the chairs. His face flushed as he straightened, rubbing the back of his neck. A Rosie hue dusted the tips of his ears. With a hum, you tilt your head to the side before doing the same thing on the other as he struggled to find the words he wanted to say.

Clearing his throat, Nanami held his hand, an earnest, stoic look on his face as he did. “My name is Nanami Kento, and if you would like to pay me back, how about dinner for you and me tomorrow night?” in all of your years being a performer, you have been hit on and listened to crude comments people made. Still, no one no one had ever asked you out on a date.

“Dinner? Like a date?”

“Only if you want; I’m not going to be one to pressure you into saying yes just because of what I have done. If a date is too much to ask, could you say hello to my son? He thoroughly enjoyed your performance.”

From the man who had saved your life, such a simple request, you almost wanted to shake him to tell him to ask for more. But you knew by the look on his face that he wasn’t a man who demanded retribution for his kindness.

“I would love to say hello to your son. Dinner sounds great, too.” You took a deep breath before grinning. “ If you just give me a few minutes to shower quickly and change, I can meet you at the front.”

Nanami was happy to wait while you showered quickly and gathered your belongings before you met him outside the aquarium. He was standing with two other men while children ran around near them. Nanami was holding a plastic bag, most likely his wet clothes. The aquarium must’ve provided him with some shorts and a souvenir T-shirt on the house. Standing near him was a man with long dark hair, pulled half up into a bun while the rest cascaded down his back. He was dressed in a T-shirt and jeans while two little girls clung to his pants as they listened to the adults talk. The other man standing near him had white pristine, snowy hair and dark sunglasses on the bridge of his nose as he enthusiastically spoke with his hands.

“—and then you were like, ‘She’s drowning!’ And SPLASH! You ran up those stairs so fast before diving in, and you swan-dived like a majestic bird! I’ve never been more attracted to a man in my entire life.”

You approached the group with a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, I couldn't agree more.” The trio and their children all snap their attention in your direction.

“Hi there,” Nanami smiled warmly, “thank you for agreeing to meet my son.”

“You saved my life; it’s the least I could do.”

Nanami grinned, turning his attention to the two boys playing in the grass just a bit away from you. “Yuuji, come here for a second.” A small boy with pink hair came rushing forward without being told twice. “I want you to meet—”

“The mermaid!” Yuuji had literal sparkles in his eyes as he gripped at your leggings. “Are you okay?! You have legs now!” The child had to be no older than five, and his curiosity on your legs had you giggling as you fought the urge to pinch his chubby cheeks.

“Yep! I’m doing great, thanks to you and your dad.” You knelt in front of the small boy. “Thank you so much.”

Yuuji grinned and reached for his father's hand with a comprehensive, toothy grin. “You’re welcome!! Thank you for all the kisses!” Nanami and the other two men chuckled.

“Well, you’re very welcome.”

“Careful, Yuuji; I heard your dad is going to take the mermaid here out for a date.”

“You're taking the mermaid on a date, Dad?!”

Nanami nodded before shaking his head at his enthusiastic child. “Yes, can you introduce yourself?”

“Oh, right! I'm Yuuji!”

“Very good, Yuuji.” Nanami praised his son, ruffling his hair

The dark-haired man said, stepping forward to shake your hand. “I’m Geto Suguru, and these are my daughters Nanako and Mimiko. Girls, say hello.” His very well and polite daughters both greeted you properly. You shook Geto’s hand before releasing it as the white-haired man pushed forward.

“And I’m Gojo Satoru. The two gremlins playing over there are my kiddos. Megumi and Tsumiki.” he motioned towards the trio of men and their children that gathered around. “And we’re The Single Dad Club!”

Both the other men groaned in protest. “We told you that’s a terrible name, Satoru.” Gojo pulled his sunglasses off, revealing bright blue eyes.

“Why is it so terrible?”

“Because it’s just a terrible name for a club,” Nanami said, cocking an eyebrow.

“You’re just jealous that Nanami has a date, and we’re both still single.” At Geto’s words, Gojo fell silent. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” With a gentle smile, Geto pulled his friend away, leaving you, Nanami, and Yuuji standing around.

“Well, as much as I hate to say goodbye, I need to get this one home and start on dinner after a well-needed shower.”

“Oh, trust me, I understand.” Reaching into your bag, you handed Nanami one of your business cards. “That’s my number; call me some time for the dinner date?”

“I’ll text you tonight once I get this one in bed.” With a single swoop, Nanami lifted Yuuji in his arms. “Would that be okay?”

“More than okay.”

“Great, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Nanami, bye, Yuuji.”

“Bye!! Dad, will you help me with my paper when we get home? I know what I'm going to write about. For my summer homework!

“And what's that?”

“About how my dad saved a mermaid!”

You waved them off until you could no longer see them. It has been a truly eventful day, having your performance go wrong. You just scoring a date with a total hottie without even having to download a dating app on your phone was well worth almost drowning over. All you needed to do was wait for Nanami to text you, which wasn't long. It was a couple of hours.

The two of you planned to go out to dinner the following day, and your heart fluttered from the second you woke up the following date until you stood outside for Nanami to come to pick you up. Your hands were shaky and sweating; you had no idea why you were so nervous! It was just a date; nothing serious would happen unless Nanami wanted to take it further.

You wouldn’t be opposed to that at all.

The feeling of his lips against yours, wow, regardless if it was just CPR, you longed to feel his mouth again. Preferably now that your life wasn’t in danger. You wanted to wrap yourself around his body to show how strong your core was. You wanted to fuck his brains out, to express just how grateful you were for him saving your life.

“Are you alright?” Nanami’s voice drew you out of the trance you found yourself in.

“Huh!” Looking up from your plate, you find Nanami staring at you, eyes full of concern. “Oh! Yes! I'm so sorry, I was lost in thought!” The sexy pediatrician just smiled before sipping on his wine. “I was just thinking about—yesterday.”

Nanami hummed, placing his wine glass down on the table. “Yes, yesterday was quite exciting. I must agree.” He reached across the table, putting his hand on top of yours. “Are you doing all right? I can’t imagine how terrifying it must’ve been.”

“I’m doing great; I’m just thinking about how grateful you were there when it happened. You and Yuuji, I probably wouldn't be here if it wasn’t for you both.”

“I’ve never been more happy about a field trip. I wasn’t going to come; I was asked to cover a rounding shift at the hospital for one of my colleagues. I was going to break the news to Yuuji when I picked him up from school last week, but he had borrowed a book about different sea animals from the library. I had never seen him so excited about a school trip.” A fond smile graced his lips. “It would have been cruel if I picked to work over an experience my child was excited for. So I decided to take a two-week vacation instead of working.”

“Two weeks?”

“I plan on taking some day trips with the gentleman I’m friends from—”

“The Single Dad Club!” You grin automatically, knowing who he is speaking of. Hearing the nickname for the self-appointed club, leave your lips, your date cringing. “Oh, come on, it’s kind of fun!”

“It's a horrendous nickname that we should’ve buried the second Gojo said it.”

The way his eyebrow twitched had you grinning. “Nanami, you're so cute.” The man before you blushed, his hand reaching up to rub at his neck. “I’m sorry. Please continue.”

“We’re planning on doing this sort of staycation. We plan to go to the local pool and the library downtown to rent out some books for the children, and then we plan to end our staycation at a beach house before we have to return to work.”

“A bunch of summer adventures for the members of the Single Dad Club.”

Nanami hummed, taking a long sip of his wine. “I’m hoping that if this date continues to go as well as it is, I’ll be sending in my letter of resignation to said club.” His bold invitation had you biting down on your lip.

So your attraction wasn’t one-sided. Nanami seemed as eager to see where this could go as you were. Perhaps if you were lucky enough, it would end up with you returning to his place or vice versa. Then again, the man was a single dad, Yuuji’s mother was no longer in the picture, and you understood that there may be some boundaries that were not meant to be crossed now. That didn’t mean you couldn’t flirt and see where the night would take you.

Reaching your foot out, you gently caressed it against Nanami’s ankle briefly before pulling back just for him to do the same thing to you. His foot gently caresses your ankle up your leg just an inch before pulling back. Playing footsie never felt so naughty as you both went back and forth, caressing one another’s legs. You only stopped once you felt as though your underwear was soaking wet; pulling your foot back, he let out a raspy sigh before chugging down the rest of your wine.

“So, Nanami, what time does your babysitter need you to come home?”

Nanami followed your lead, chugging down the rest of his wine and gently placing the glass on the table. “Yuuji is at a slumber party at Gojo’s house with Megumi.” His eyes narrowed; he hooked his foot back around yours, bringing it back towards him, causing you to gasp, gripping the table's edge. His foot slowly ended up the side of your ankle before slowly reaching back down.

“Well, I suppose there’s just one other question.”

“And what might that be?”

“Shall we continue our date at my place or yours?”

You both decided Nanami’s apartment would be more suitable for continuing the date since it was closer and more convenient. And you barely could keep your feet off each other; if you drove across town to your apartment, you weren’t sure you would get through the traffic without ripping each other’s clothes off. The drive to Nanami’s condo was full of tension. His hand gently grabbed your thigh, rubbing it as you ran your hand up and down his forearm. His touch alone nearly had you screaming in the passenger seat. You couldn’t wait to see what else he had in store for you.

You’re not sure how you both manage to keep off each other up the elevator to his front door—but the second the door was shut and locked, you both pounced on each other. You both quickly worked at clothes; Nanami’s buttons were undone rapidly as he unzipped your dress. You moved in sync, not fumbling once as the passion and the desire moved you backward further into the apartment, shoes being kicked off, belts unbuckled ad, and dresses being dropped to the floor.

Never in your entire life have you felt such a connection with another human being. Nanami was something special, And you had never wanted someone so bad. Somehow, you managed to break the kiss that tasted of strawberries and champagne long enough to allow Nanami to lift your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you through the dimly lit condo.

“Oh my fuck, you're so fucking hot. I want you. I want you so fucking bad.” You growled into his ear as you hungrily kissed and nipped at his neck with a whine

“Then you’ll have me.” With a growl, Nanami tossed you onto a luscious bed. “Only if I could have you as well. Because ever since I saw you swimming, blowing kisses. You enamored me like a siren casting her spell upon me.” You tried to get up on your knees to reach for his belt, but Nanami shoved you back down. “None of that now; you're a guest in my house; allow me to treat you.”

Nanami got on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he grabbed your underwear, tugging them down past your legs. He then hooked both legs over his shoulders before slowly laying down on his stomach, his lips sucking at the sensitive flesh of your thighs, leaving an array of hickies up your skin. His mouth and tongue had you gasping, hands slinging to his sheets as he inches closer and closer to you, dripping sex.

“Fuuuuck,” he breathed out, trailing his tongue up your thigh before his face was right in front of your pussy. “You smell so good.”

“Tha-a-ahh ooooh fuck me!” Right before you could think of him properly, his mouth was sealed around your clit, sucking gently on the bundle of nerves before his tongue swirled around it in the most addictive way. “Oooh fuck me—”

Nanami chuckled as he pulled his mouth away from your client, his tongue flicking it gently. “Mmm~ I plan on doing just that as soon as you cum on my tongue.” His mouth was back up on your pussy, tongue sliding up and down your slit, lapping hungrily at your slick folds.

You gasped as he slowly pushed two thick fingers inside of your tight hole, fingering you as his mouth focused solely on your clit, suckling on it, drawing out gasps and whines from deep in your chest. You squirmed and arched, legs shaking as you reached down, fisting his blonde hair. Feeling you shaking all because of him gave Nanami a certain sense of pride as he ate you out faster, tongue flattening against your sensitive it as his fingers hooked up, rubbing your g-spot.

You gritted your teeth, your other hand reaching down and gripping his hair. Getting his hair pulled had Nanami growling against you, but what got him going was when you started rocking your hips against his face. Taking control, using him to get off. There was something about you doing that that had pre-cum dribbling out of his tip, staining the inside of his boxers. “Ooooh god!” you cried out, rocking your hips faster against his willing mouth.“Oooh fuck! Oooh fuck! Fuck!” Your cunt twitched and throbbed around his fingers, clit twitching against his tongue as you rode his face, bringing yourself closer and closer to your orgasm. “I-Im gonna cum! Gonna cum! Oh fuck~ suck my clit suck my clit!” you ordered, making Nanami’s eyes narrow in pure need as he did as you commanded, suckiljng the sensitive bud, resulting in your hips rising off the bed, as you arched your back cumming all over his face and tongue.

The angels sang as you saw the pearly gates, but Nanami’s gentle thrusting of his fingers and little laps brought your soul back into your body. The rippling traces of your orgasm faded into nothing as your body collapsed limply against his bed. Kento chuckled, pressing sweet, loving kisses over your thighs, up your hips against your stomach, see-through closer and closer to your face. The feeling of his lips tracing over your skin had you giggling softly; you bit down on your bottom lip as his face came above you.

He kissed you with a need so strong it made you dizzy. Your hands down, working at his belt, I’m buttoning his trousers before you push them down past his ass. Electricity swarmed between your bodies as the room grew hotter with pure lust. You needed to feel him buried deep inside your pussy, and he needed to feel your warm walls wrapped around his thick, long cock.

“I want you—” Kento sighed out roughly as you wrapped your hand around his cock, pumping it. “I wanted you the second you blew that kiss at me like you were in the tank. Fuck— you look so beautiful; I just knew I had to know who you were fuck, fuck, fuck, your hand feels so good.”

The raw desire in his voice, the confession of his attraction to you, and you wet and willing to do anything he asked. “I want you too; I want you so bad, Nanami Kento, please~!” Hearing that you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you was Nanami’s breaking point.

He positioned himself between your legs, grabbing one, hooking it around his hip while he placed the other over his shoulder. Ever so gently, he pressed the tip of his massive cock against your entrance, rubbing it up and down, collecting your slick over his shaft. The slit of his cock head rubs gently over your clit, a string stretched between your most intimate parts. Seeing that, the usually calm and collected doctor was losing his absolute shit.

“Need you honey—” He pressed the tip inside of you, sending your head rocking back against his plush pillows. “Oh my god, you’re so fucking tight.”

“Y-You’re so fucking thick.”

Nanami panted as he looked down at you. “Do you need me to pull out?”

“N-No—” you took a deep breath, “just needed a second to adjust. You’re so big it feels so good.”

Nanami nodded again before slowly starting to push further inside of you. “Just let me know if you need me to stop, okay? But God, you’re so fucking tight; feels so good around my cock.”

“Ah~ fuck Kento!”

Nanami groaned, his head falling to the side, resting against your leg over his shoulder. “I-I’m all the way inside.” He grunted as he bottomed out inside of you, all nine inches of his thick cock buried deep inside your tight heat as your hips met each other.

“Oh, my fuck—” You glance down at your conjoined bodies, whimpering as he slowly begins rocking into you. “Oooh god fuck me, Nanami~ please fuck me!”

Nanami placed one hand on your hip while the other gently groped at your thigh, which was draped over his shoulder. He didn’t need to be told twice to fuck such a beautiful woman like you. He pulled out hips, rolling into you, gently thrusting in and out of your tight cunt. You guessed and whined in tandem with his movements, your hands gripping the sheets underneath you.

His cock slid in and out of your pussy, and each stroke of his cock inside of you rubbed perfectly against your g-spot before pressing further and hitting your cervix. It wasn’t painful, but God didn’t feel good. It was so intense and pleasurable. It felt as though his cock was perfectly molded for your body. Hitting every spot perfectly without you even telling him how to move or where to hit; he just knew.

With every thrust into your cunt, your hips rose to meet him. Not be granted, his finger is digging into the flesh of your leg and your hip so hard you knew it was going to leave bruises. Who gave a fuck about bruises in a moment like this?! Especially when you had never been fucked like this before.

“Kento~ Nnngh! Fuck! Ooooh fuck me, fuck me please, faster.”

“Yeah, you want me to fuck you faster? I’ll fuck you faster, honey.” His teeth nipped at your leg before dropping it off his shoulder, wrapping the other around his hip. “Be sure to scream my name when you come on my cock okay?”

“S-Someone’s g-getting c-co-oooh! Ah! Ah! Ah!” Nanami grabbed both sides of your hips, holding you in place as his cock slammed in and out of your pussy, going faster and harder with each thrust. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” you abandoned your grip on the sheets reaching behind Nanami’s toned muscular back, digging your manicured nails into his skin, dragging it down, scratching him up, marking him.

The headboard slammed against the wall over and over again with each thrust. The bedframe squeaked, but neither of you could even hear it over Nanami’s heavy grunts and your breath moans. His lips were on yours, and a deep, searing kiss, one that stole what little breath you had left away. He felt so good as you mostly tried to kiss him back with the same enthusiasm, massaging each other lips, getting nipped and bid at as nails dug into the skin and grips tightened as Nanami fucked you into the mattress.

You weren’t going to last, and Nanami knew that.

His fingers tightened harder into your hips as he jackhammered his cock inside you, angling it perfectly to slam over and over into your sweet spots that made you see the heavenly Gates again. Your mouth fell open, but there was no escape as your eyes went wide, focusing on the man above you. He smiled so lovingly before he grunted, dropping his head to your shoulder and peppering your skin with kisses. It was a chill contrast to the way he was fucking you. You get even closer to the edge as you pull one away from his back, reaching down and rubbing your clit in fast circles.

“I-Im gonna cum, gonna cum Kento, oooh fuck please cum with me!”

“Yeah, you want me to cum with you? Nnngh! Want me to cum?”

“Y-Yes, yes, yes! Please, Kento, fuck, please!”

“I will~ cum, baby~ cum for me.”

A piercing scream had your ears ringing as you came squirting all over the cock that was fucking you so good. Your juices sprayed out onto his crotch. Nanami somehow managed to pull himself out, jerking his cock furiously above you. “Cumming baby~ oooh fuck, fuck!” Spurts of hot cum spilled out of his cock, coating your stomach with his seed. Squeezing his shaft, none, he shook his dick, making sure all of the cum was out before he collapsed on the bed next to you.

While the tremors continued to rake through your body, Nanami wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to his body, his hand rubbing your back, gently praising you as his fingers massaged at your lower back. While the last tremors came to a stop, you collapsed limply against him, breathing heavily as he pressed a kiss on the top of your head. Lifting your head, you grinned, finding him drunkenly watching you, admiring the flush tint to your skin before he leaned down, kissing you softly.

“You have no idea how amazing that felt for me.”

“I could say the same thing. I normally don’t jump into bed right away with women I just met. Honestly, it’s been quite some time since I went on a date.”

You ran your fingers up and down his chest as you observed him. “I know exactly what you mean.” His hand gently reaches down, gripping your chin, lifting it, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“What I’m getting at is that I’m not the type of man who does one-night stands.”

“Oh well, that's very good to know.” You yawned, snuggling deeper into the warmth that radiated off his body. “Does that mean I can ask you for a breakfast date tomorrow? Before you go, pick up your son?”

“I love the sound of that.” He mumbled, leaning down and kissing your lips.

When Nanami decided to take two weeks off for summer vacation with his son, he had no idea he would save the life of a mermaid performer. He also had no clue that said performer was what was missing in his life. The summer had just begun, and he already felt like he had a long-time romance with just two interactions with you; he couldn’t wait to see what the rest of the summer had in store for you both.

The Single Dad Club lost one of their members that day after the aquarium, just what did the summer heat Heaven store for the last two remaining members of the club?

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks

[formulawolff]

xiii. show the world - t.w.

pairing: female!driver x toto wolff

word count: 2.7k

warnings: cursing, angst, lots of angst to be completely honest, pining, age gap relationship, toto being down bad per usual, two idiots in love but won't admit it, yadayadayada

prev. | next.

“be honest with me. are you seeing someone?”

daniel brings a wine glass to his lips, tilting it back as you sit across from him, your fork clattering against the table. heat radiates off of your cheeks, flourishing into your neck as your eyes snap away from his intense stare. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

the sun was starting to set over the water, casting a tangerine glow across its surface. fluffy clouds float along, the sky bursting with lavender, fuschia, and cerulean hues. yachts drifted along, their lights beginning to glimmer as the sky grew dimmer and dimmer. on your left, it was almost like the city was given its first breath of night life, locals strolling along the streets, their conversations and the growl of engines as they zoomed along the streets merely white noise. 

it was truly a breathtaking view, distracting you for just a moment, taking your focus away from the conversation at hand.

yet, you remember he’s awaiting your answer, arms folded across his chest, brows knit together. scrambling to formulate some sort of response, you gnaw on the inside of your cheek, shoulders slumping. 

“what if i told you i was?”

“hmm,” daniel hums, downing the rest of his wine, “then i would say good for you, i guess.”

“oh come on,” your regain your composure, frustration brewing in the pit of your stomach, “i thought we consensually agreed that we wouldn’t explore a relationship because we needed to keep things professional.”

“i did that because that’s what you wanted,” daniel swivels his head, glancing out at the water, “i never agreed to that. i only respected your wishes because that was what you wanted. i never wanted that. i wanted you.”

“but you never told me,” you protest, absentmindedly picking at your ratatouille, “that night in jeddah, i vividly remember you telling me that you never acted on your feelings because you knew that it was one-sided.”

daniel huffs, shaking his head, “i didn’t think i would’ve had to spell it out for you. i was under the impression you knew that i had feelings for you. and actually, i thought you reciprocated those same feelings. thank you for reminding me of the cold hard truth. i feel so much better about this. thanks for that.”

“you’re not being very mature about this. what happened to staying emotionally mature about the matter?”

“i was doing that until i heard from alex that you were dating someone,” daniel retorts, his tone seething with fiery anger, “you couldn’t just tell me yourself? also, how long were you going to keep that from me? were you just not going to mention it until i found out?”

“i didn’t think it was important,” you shrug, shrinking in your seat as pairs of eyes sear into you, the stares becoming more and more prominent as daniel’s voice carries throughout the patio.

“starting a relationship with someone isn’t important?”

“daniel,” you hiss, desperately wishing you were wearing a cap or some sunglasses, “people are starting to stare.”

“okay and?” he cocks his head, “i don’t give a fuck. you have no fucking idea how heartbroken i’ve been these last few weeks. i feel like my entire world has been turned upside down. meanwhile you’re frolicking around with some douchebag from st. louis. obviously the dick is must have you in a chokehold because you’ve been a completely different person.” 

“daniel, please,” the notes in your tone raise an octave as your lower lip trembles, “stop, please. people are listening. can we talk about this some other time–”

“well luckily for you,” daniel inhales sharply, rising to his feet, “i don’t want to discuss it any further. i’m done here. see you around, america’s princess.”

tossing his napkin on the table, the australian snatches the keys to his rental, muttering under his breath. you remain at the table, people resuming back to their previous conversations as the waitress comes by, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“is everything all right, madame?” 

“i just need the check please,” you mumble, tears threatening to spill over as you reach for your purse, “i’ll pay for it all. i am so sorry about that.

“no worries madame,” the waitress chirps, “would you care for a free dessert for your troubles?”

you know what? free dessert didn’t seem too bad after all. 

“oui, s’il vous plait.”

at your response, the waitress’ lips curve into a wide grin, “tu es le bienvenu.”

letting out a shaky breath, you wipe away a tear, pulling your phone out of your purse. swallowing the lump in your throat, you message the one person you needed most.

i hope things are going well on your end tonight. is there any chance you can come by my hotel room, or i swing by yours? it would be later tonight. i want my sexy, smoochable, handsome boyfriend. :’((((( 

the moment you send the message, three little bubbles appear, signaling that he had received it, and was crafting a reply.

i take it the dinner didn’t go well? what happened, meine liebe? ich vermisse dich auch. 

wrinkling your nose, you highlight the text, tapping the copy option. thumb gliding across the screen, you click on the google translate app, pasting it into the textbox. 

what happened, my love? i miss you too. 

i can explain more later. you type, are you busy? 

never too busy for you. remember, we’re in monaco. i own a place here. 😘 you can just come by whenever you need. i’m at home. do you need the address?

yes please. i’ll be there as soon as possible. 

i can’t wait to see your beautiful face. here’s the address. i’ll be waiting impatiently. 

the second you type his address in your phone, the waitress comes by your table, a box in one hand, billfold in the other. placing the box on the table, you anticipate her to do the same with the check. yet, she doesn’t keeping it in her grasp. 

“madame, your meals have been taken care. a gentleman called, inquiring if he could foot the bill. he stated he did not want you to worry about anything else this evening. is that all right?”

your heart flutters, “did he say a name, by chance?”

“no madame,” the waitress flashes you a quaint smile, “again, i am so sorry if your evening has been ruined in any sort of way. i hope the dessert helps in some fashion!”

“thank you,” you reciprocate the gesture, “and again, thank you for the dessert.”

“it is no problem,” the waitress dips her head, “have a great evening, madame!”

rising to your feet, you push in your chair, ensuring that you don’t forget the plain white box that was placed on the table. carrying it under your arm, you pull up your maps app, feeling a grin form.

maybe tonight will not end as poorly as it began. 

you could thank toto wolff for that.

ever since miami, you felt as if the weight of the world was off your shoulders. the stress was alleviated, dissolving almost completely. you could go about your day without that ever-present thought in the back of your mind, gnawing away at you. 

however, there were more mountains to climb. more obstacles to face. 

you had yet to sit down with james, alex, or anyone else really, to discuss your decision to depart from williams at the end of the 2024 season. 

toto was the only one who knew. 

and for the time being, you were okay with that. 

but you were running out of time. the days were soaring by. you would blink and suddenly it would be time to board that flight. it would be time to get behind the wheel, adrenaline coursing through your veins. it would be time to step on that podium, raising that gleaming trophy above your head, your team roaring below. 

with four grand prixs wins, three of which were back-to-back, you were unstopabble. 

a force to be reckoned with. 

max tried to catch you, he really did. 

but you were too fast, fueled by the thrill of victory. 

it was intoxicating, sending an electric, exhilarating buzz throughout your entire being every time you breezed across that finish line.

and with a man like toto by your side, how could you possibly lose? 

with the monaco grand prix on the docket for the weekend, you were preparing for a challenging race. the circuit was extremely tight, the track interweaving through the buildings and sights the city. it was an infamous track, known for its rich history and well, the accidents. 

additionally, there was little to no room for overtakes. so if you wanted to be on that podium on sunday, you had to execute a stellar qualifying lap. with that added pressure, you were a little apprehensive for what was to come. 

yet, you couldn’t let that anxiety creep in. you had to maintain your composure. it was crucial that you kept a calm, cool outlook on the race. 

and as you found yourself at that massive gate, pressing the button to your left, you couldn’t help but feel peace of mind. 

you could thank toto wolff for that as well. 

with every moment spent with the team principal, you couldn’t help but shake this aching, nagging feeling. 

it was a pure, innocent feeling. one that filled you to the brim with bliss, a cozy warmth blossoming in your chest, your heart swelling with joy. one that had you beaming from ear to ear, your once gloomy days now shining with this golden, rich light. 

you were in love with him. 

hopelessly in love, your whole heart resting in his tender hands. 

you couldn’t tell him that though. you couldn’t bring yourself to. 

at least, not yet. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“all right,” james’ sucks in a breath, his head swiveling from side to side, taking in the commotion all around. 

“are you ready?” 

“come on,” you wave a hand, “you know the drill. i was born ready.” 

“i know,” the team principal’s lips twitch as he fights a smile, “but this is a pretty significant race. there’s a lot of history and heartbreak on this track.” 

“are you saying that you don’t think i can win?” you tease, your voice muffled slightly by the thick exterior of the helmet, “james, i can do this. believe me, i can do this.” 

“there’s a lot at stake here,” he places a hand on the top of your head, patting it, “just remember, whatever happens, i believe in you. always.” 

i believe in you. always. 

your lower lip trembles, and in that moment, you want to confess right there. you almost blurt out the words that had been lingering on your tongue for weeks now. 

james, after this race, we need to to talk. 

however, you don’t. you simply nod, drumming your hands against the steering wheel, “i’ll make you guys proud, i promise.”

“oh, you already do,” his eyes glimmer, bursting with pride, “you’ve made us so fucking proud these last few weeks. and you know what? i know you’re going to continue to make williams racing proud. i can’t wait to see what the future has in store for us.” 

fuck. 

that conversation was going to absolutely destroy you, splitting your heart into two. 

you couldn’t think about that, though. 

the race was about to start. 

on the grid, you were behind charles leclerc and oscar piastri. it wasn’t terrible positioning, but with the limited space, you knew that getting ahead would be nearly impossible. it would be a miracle if you were able to cross that finish line in first place. 

yet, you were more than willing to take the risks involved to get to that position. 

all you needed was a little bit of luck. 

which, these days, it seemed like you were full of it. like you were carrying a four leaf clover in your pocket at all times. 

as rays of sunshine filter through the clouds, a gold streak of light dances in your peripheral vision. 

nestled on your wrist was the charm bracelet toto had gifted you that fateful night in jeddah. the charm gleams, reminding you of two things. 

one, your very first grand prix victory.  

two, that he was always with you. 

perhaps he was that good luck charm you were desperately searching for.

maybe. just maybe. 

in about seventy-eight laps, you would have that answer. 

“and she has done the impossible! she has shattered yet another record! miss america has won monaco! she has won her fifth grand prix!” 

“fuck yes!” you shout, “we won! we won monaco!” 

“brilliant fucking job,” james’ voice trembles, thready with excitement, “bloody good job!” 

euphoria crashes over you like a tidal wave, leaving you speechless as it sucks the air out of your lungs. burying your head in your hands, your shoulders shake as you sob. 

never, in your wildest dreams would you have expected to have made it this far. 

never would you even imagined racing as a little girl, let alone racing at this caliber. 

and winning races? five of them?

little you, cheesing with her toothy five-year-old smile, standing next to a kart, helmet under her arm, wouldn’t have ever dreamed of this moment. 

you had improved miles upon miles from the driver you were last season. you made history. time and time again. you had shattered records, obliterating barriers in the world of formula one racing as a twenty-two year old woman. 

and fuck, you weren’t even done yet. 

you still had a world title to chase after. 

“holy shit. holy shit. holy motherfucking shit.” 

stepping out of the car, your heart races, your team nearly sprinting to congratulate you. picking out james, you flash him a thumbs up. the crowd raves, whooping, whistling, and hollering your newfound nickname. 

“miss america! miss america! miss america!” 

cameras appear out of thin air, recording as you step down, james and alex swathing you with their embrace. alex rattles your helmet, james’ grin shining bright as the cameras flash. 

“what a bloody brilliant day!” james shouts, a glossy sheen over his eyes, “what a fucking day!” 

“what place did you finish, alex?” your voice rises above the noise, “what did you get?” 

“ninth!” he chirps, “two drivers in the top ten? that’s a pretty fucking good day!” 

“a very fucking good day,” laughter rises in your chest, spilling out, “fuck, that nearly took everything out of me!” 

“well you better shape up,” alex pats your back, “because you have a podium that’s calling your name.” 

as the team gathers, making their way to the finish line, your heart yearns for one thing. well, one person. 

toto. 

pursing your lips, your eyes scan through the garages, attempting to make out the mercedes paddock. yet, there is too much movement in your line of sight as the crew members assemble, circling around their respective drivers. 

the euphoria lingers as your step onto the podium, the crowd below applauding. there are shouts that rise above the clapping, yet you can barely make them out. 

surveying the mass, your heart skips a beat as you locate him. 

his eyes lock with yours, pure, radiant adoration painted across his features. 

that’s my girl. he mouths, dimples apparent with every word. 

a few strands of hair flutter in his face, the top button of his shirt un-done, the fabric slightly wrinkled from the chaos of race day. 

yet, he was as gorgeous as ever. 

as charles and oscar pop open the champagne, you hesitate, fingers trembling as they wrap around the neck of the bottle.

you know what? 

fuck this. 

“hey!” charles calls out as you step down from the platform, “where are you going?”

there’s a brief moment of confusion from the crowd, a few gasps ringing out as you shoulder your way down the stairs, muttering numerous apologies as you accidentally elbow several people along the way. 

there was only one thing on your mind as you nudged your way through the throng of people gathered beneath the podium. although your skin burned beneath your suit, sweat clinging to every part of you, there was this tugging sensation at your heart. it urged you to keep going. to keep searching. 

you were face-to-face now, his brow furrowing with concern, arms folded across his chest as you take another step forward. 

“what are you–"

that’s when toto wolff found your lips colliding with his, the entire world crumbling away as he found himself lost in you.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

taglist: @k3ira13 @prettiest-at-the-party @martwll @annewithaneofthegreengable @zoeyjadetice2010  @sinners-98-world @laura-naruto-fan1998 @nebarious @joalslibrary @swifth0lic @statuewoman @strangegirl974 @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @m-1234 @whoisss @msbyjackal @annaaepf1 @paigelouise @bborra @bblouifford @upsteadsstuff @omgsuperstarg @younxii @toldyouitwasamelodrama @kravitzwhore @persona1lies @pucksandpower

as always, if i forgot to add you, or if you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know! thank you all for the endless support and love for this series! y'all are the sweetest! <3

[keeryhours]

baby, come here (i get so lonely at night) - rafe cameron

Frat! Rafe Cameron x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

Summary:

Rafe texts you to come over, and you can never tell him no. (Also he totally doesn’t have feelings for you, definitely not.)

Warnings:

Smut (18+), oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, daddy kink, sort of breeding kink, creampie, mentions of drinking, mentions of drugs (weed, coke)

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N:

Just random Rafe filth 🤪

—

Rafe: Baby, come over.

That’s how it always started. With a text, or maybe if he was really drunk, a phone call. And you always said yes.

That’s why you were standing outside Rafe’s bedroom door at his frat house now, trying to will yourself not to knock. You knew your friends would kick your ass if they knew you were here. You ignored the knowing looks you were getting from the other frat members and girls who passed you in the hall - you were not the girl they thought you were.

Except you totally were.

Finally, you lost the battle with yourself and knocked. After a few moments, Rafe answered the door with a cocky smirk on his stupidly handsome face, leaning against the wall and looking at you like he hadn’t been the one to ask you to come over.

“Hey,” he greeted, eyes roaming over your body. He didn’t try to hide it. “Come in.”

He backed up, opening the door wide for you. You ignored the stares as you slipped into his room and he closed it behind you, locking the door. You looked around the room like you hadn’t been here a million times before.

You felt Rafe’s hands on your hips, wrapping around your body and feeling the exposed skin beneath your shirt. You leaned back into his touch despite yourself, enjoying the feeling as his hands trailed up your body, his lips meeting your neck.

“You look so hot tonight,” he murmured into your neck, before biting that spot he knows drives you crazy. You cried out and he soothed it with his tongue, sucking on it. Oh, he was going to mark you up tonight. “Did you wear this for me?” His hands had made their way up your body, grasping at your breasts over the light pink lace bra you were wearing.

“No,” you lied, watching in the mirror as Rafe’s tall frame loomed over you from behind. He was all over you, and you could feel how hard he was as he pressed his hips against you.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, seeing right through you as always. “And I guess you didn’t wear these for me, either?” He pushed your skirt up, exposing the matching panties he knew you’d have on underneath. You felt the smirk against your neck as he looked into the mirror with you, seeing he was right.

“Bad girl,” he teased, and you felt your skin heating with a blush. You should have known that choice would be too obvious, would boost his ego too much.

“I thought I’d be seeing Topper tonight,” you teased back, moving away from his mouth and seeing some marks already blooming red and purple on your neck.

Rafe’s grip tightened on your hips. He almost fell into your trap, almost showed he cared, before slipping back into his usual facade. “Topper couldn’t handle you,” he said, pulling you back against his body.

You laughed, spinning around in Rafe’s arms so you were facing him. Your arms went around his neck as his own slid around your waist. He went back to biting and sucking at your neck as you spoke. “And you can?”

“Haven’t I shown you that plenty of times?” He asked, still kissing your neck, and you reached up and took the stupid baseball cap off his head, tossing it off into the room.

“I wish you’d grow your hair out again,” you pouted. “I miss running my fingers through it…” You ran your fingers over his buzzed hair. “…pulling on it.”

Rafe grunted. “Maybe I will.”

“For me?”

“Not for you,” he said, protesting too much. You smiled, and he could sense it despite not being able to see your face. “For myself. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Sure,” you teased, and he finally pulled away from your neck to look down at you.

“You talk too much. Did I ask you to speak?”

He swallowed any response you may have had as he pressed his lips to yours nearly aggressively, his hands sliding around to grab at your ass beneath your skirt. You gasped into the kiss and his tongue slid into your mouth, your heart pounding in your chest and skin buzzing with anticipation as he started pushing your shirt up and over your head.

He pulled away from your lips to pull it off, leaving you in that cute bra you had bought specifically because you knew he would love it.

“You know how I feel about pink,” Rafe mused, hands trailing over the material. “And lace.”

He pushed your skirt down your hips and you stepped out of it. Rafe stepped back as he admired your figure in the set. You blushed again at the amount of attention he was giving your body.

“You blush all over, you know that?” He said, moving back to trail kisses down your neck and over your breasts. His hands crept up your back and expertly unhooked your bra, dropping it to the floor.

“I wish you’d take something off,” you said, pulling on his t-shirt as you stood there in nothing but your panties, Rafe still fully clothed.

“This isn’t about me right now,” he mumbled, pushing you back and onto his bed. He crawled between your legs, placing a kiss over the wet spot on your panties. Your head dropped back as he licked over the material.

“Still so sweet,” he praised as he pushed your panties to the side. “You’re always so sweet for me, aren’t you?”

He licked along your folds, humming as he tasted you. You moaned, covering your mouth with your hand to try to keep quiet.

“You can be loud, baby,” he said. “All my brothers already know how good I make you feel.”

You swatted at his head, making him laugh. “You’re disgusting.”

“I think you like knowing they know how good I fuck you,” he teased, before wrapping his lips around your clit, running his tongue over the bud before sucking on it. Your back arched off the bed and you couldn’t stifle the moan that spilled from your lips. “See? Just like that.”

You couldn’t form words as Rafe continued eating your pussy, pulling sounds from you no other man had ever been able to. Maybe that was why you kept coming back.

He slid a finger into you, pumping it along with his licks against your clit. He quickly added a second finger, curling them up deep inside. Your moans became higher, and Rafe could tell you were close. He knew your body perfectly, knew how to bring you here every time.

“So tight, baby,” he said, his voice sending vibrations against your clit. “Can’t wait to feel how tight you’ll fit around my cock.”

“Rafe, I’m so close,” you whined, body writhing on the bed as your high approached. You missed when his hair was long enough to pull on as you came.

“Cum for me,” Rafe commanded, pumping his fingers faster as he wrapped his lips around your clit again. He remembered exactly what to do every time, exactly how to make you fall apart. You came hard on his mouth and fingers, Rafe riding you through your high until you couldn’t take it anymore.

He pulled your panties off as he moved to stand up, pulling his t-shirt over his head and quickly working his belt buckle open. He looked down at your body with such obvious desire it made you blush again.

“Do we have to use a condom?” he asked as he began undoing his jeans. His voice had a sense of pleading behind it - Rafe hated using condoms with you. Said he liked to feel all of you.

“I guess not,” you giggled. “I’m on the pill.”

Rafe smiled in his victory, then he was climbing over you, his body resting between your legs. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

“Yeah? About me?”

“About this,” he pointed out, but you wondered if you could see the blush on his cheeks if his face wasn’t buried in your neck again. You could always see through him just like he saw through you.

He lined himself up at your entrance, kissing along your skin as he began to push inside. You gripped onto his strong shoulders as his thick length stretched you out, pushing in deeper and deeper. “Rafe…” you moaned, fingernails digging marks into the skin of his back.

Rafe groaned loudly, his eyes falling closed. “Fuck, you’re fucking tight. Your pussy was made for my cock.”

He bottomed out and stayed still, letting you adjust to the feeling. He always did, even though you had slept together countless times. He was so big, it always took a minute. “Okay?” He asked, desperately needing to fuck you already.

“You can move,” you told him, and he wasted no time pulling back, snapping his hips back against yours. The sounds of your skin meeting filled his small dorm room as he set a quick pace, fucking into you with an eagerness that had you a bit flattered, honestly.

“Feels so fucking good,” he groaned, burying his face in your tits, which bounced with every rough thrust of his hips. He hooked a hand under one of your thighs, pulling it up and pushing it against your chest to thrust in deeper. “You’re such a little slut for me.”

“You’re so big, Rafe,” you moaned, knowing how he loved to hear it. It was the truth, though.

Rafe groaned again, thrusting in as deep as possible. “Can you ride me, baby?”

You nodded, and Rafe pulled out, situating himself against the headboard of his bed. He patted his lap and you giggled as you climbed over, straddling him. His large hands gripped onto your ass as he helped you line yourself up again.

Rafe hissed as you sunk down his thick cock again, a high moan coming from your lips. When you were fully seated on him, he reached over to the side table, grabbing his phone and opening the camera. “You look so pretty like this,” he praised.

“Uh, no pictures,” you said, holding your hands up in front of you. You’d never let him do that before, you’d never even sent him pictures before. You always heard horror stories never to do that.

“Aw, come on baby,” Rafe put the phone down, still looking over you with hungry eyes. “No one’s gonna see but me.”

You thought about it. It was kind of hot that he wanted to keep a photo of you like this. “Promise you won’t show anyone?”

“Baby,” he said, meeting your eyes, his hands roaming over the curves of your body. “You’re all mine. I’m not sharing you with anyone.”

You bit your lip as you thought. “Okay,” you said finally, and a grin spread across Rafe’s lips. “But if I find out anyone else has seen it, you’re fucking dead.”

Rafe laughed. “Got it. This is all for me.” He grabbed his phone again, holding it up and taking a photo of you seated on his cock, tits on full display for him. “You look so fucking good.”

You blushed, and Rafe gripped onto your hips again after dropping his phone. He guided you along his dick, the feeling of him so deep inside you was absolutely incredible. You started bouncing on his cock and Rafe admired you with a low “Oh, fuck yeah,” as he leaned back with his hands behind his head, watching you take control.

“Feels so good, daddy,” you cried, bouncing on him faster.

“Fuck, yeah, bounce on daddy’s cock,” he encouraged you, bucking his hips up to meet your movements. You continued to ride him, moaning little “Ah-ah-ah!”s with every bounce.

“Gonna need you to cum for me again, baby,” he said, moving a hand to rub circles on your clit. “Need to feel you cum all over my cock. Can you do that for me, baby girl?”

“Yes, daddy,” you moaned, feeling your second orgasm approaching quickly. “Please don’t stop.”

“You’re the one fucking yourself on my cock, little slut,” he tsked. “Gonna use me to make yourself cum?”

“Yes, fuck yes, gonna cum all over your cock,” you babbled on, losing the ability to form coherent thoughts as his thick tip pressed so deeply inside you, right where you needed him.

“Daddy’s fucking you dumb, isn’t he?” Rafe chuckled, his free hand moving back to your hip as he continued rubbing circles to your clit. “Go on baby, I can tell you’re close. Let go for me.”

“Oh fuck, oh shit, daddy, gonna cum, I’m- ah!”

You were cut off as your second orgasm ripped through your body, mindlessly bouncing on Rafe faster and faster, moaning so loudly you knew the whole frat house could hear you, but you didn’t care anymore.

Rafe had that stupid cocky smile on his face as you fell apart. “Yeah, baby. Let everyone know how good I make you feel. That’s it, don’t hold back, let the whole fucking house hear you.”

He didn’t leave you much time to recover as you came down from your high. You were exhausted, body slowing as Rafe gripped onto your hips, thrusting up into you wildly.

“Shit, baby, gonna fucking cum. Gonna fill you up. You want daddy to fill you nice and deep?”

“Yeah,” you moaned, head thrown back as Rafe’s body tightened below you, his fingers digging into your skin as he came deep inside you with a loud groan, then grunting as he thrusted shallowly to fill you completely. You let him use your body, just like he’d let you use his.

You rolled off of him with a dramatic huff, Rafe laughing as he reached for a dirty shirt to clean you up. Always a gentleman.

“Do you wanna stay?” He asked after you’d both had the chance to catch your breath and relax. “We could smoke. Or drink. Or I got some coke, if you want.”

You laughed lightly, turning to look at him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted me to stay.”

Rafe turned away from you to hide the smile on his face. “Nah. I just didn’t want to kick you out.”

“Sure.” You smirked at him, knowing he would be texting you again tomorrow even if you did leave. “I’ll stay.”

“Cool,” Rafe said, as if he didn’t care. But he smiled as he handed you his bong, bowl already packed. “I get lonely at night.”

“Happy I’m staying, then?”

“Please shut the fuck up.”

[waterfae]

Rainy Day

Summary: You share a moment with your beloved knight as the rain falls outside.

Pairing: Gwayne Hightower x Reader

Warnings: no use of Y/N, house-neutral fem!reader, fluff, no beta

Word Count: 570+

|| General Masterlist || House of the Dragon Masterlist ||

The curtains fluttered slightly with the cool breeze as it entered through the windows, fanning across your face and evoking the smell of damp earth to waft throughout your bedchamber.

Outside, the rain pitter-pattered gently against the rooftops, lightly showering a layer of calm over King’s Landing. It soothed you. Moments such as these were rare, especially when your beloved’s business included being second-in-command of the City Watch, so you cherished them whenever the gods bestowed upon you such blessings.

It had been like this all afternoon, relishing in each others company, with you leaning against the windowsill and staring out across the skyline. Occasionally, you took a turn about the room, warming yourself by the fire before returning to your earlier position. Gwayne, alternately, sat atop your bed with a book in hand, reading aloud.

You listened, his voice velvety and warm; it was a comfort to listen to, remarkably even more so against the sound of the rain as it continued to fall. Had you been laying beside him in the bed, you might have fallen asleep. But you had no intention to do so; no intention to waste the time you had with him by being unconscious. No, you had other thoughts.

You pulled away from the window once more and silently made your way towards him.

Gwayne had been so engrossed with the task you yourself had assigned to him, that he had not even noticed your movements. Not until the book was already gone, snatched from his grasp.

“Ay!” Went he.

You gave no verbal response. You simply closed the book and placed it on the table that stood near your bed.

“Were you not the one who desired me to read this ridiculous thing to you?” He questioned, the annoyance with your contradicting actions apparent in his voice.

“I did.” You answered. It was all you said.

You had pleaded earlier, despite Gwayne’s protests against the chore and also the book itself. Rubbish, he had called it. But he would always submit to your requests and oh, how you loved the sound of his voice whenever he did. It was ever alluring; you could listen to that man speak for hours on end if he allowed it. Sometimes, it would lull you into a deep slumber. Other times, it would leave you wanting.

You said nothing to explain your sudden change of heart. What you did instead was slowly lower yourself into his lap and loosely wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Tenderly, you placed your head into the crook of his neck, breathing and taking in the scent of him.

It surprised him at first, but then he quietly called out your name, his previous irritation replaced with concern.

“I only wish to be held in your arms.” You finally whispered as you slightly pulled away in order to look at him, a small smile gracing your features, “The weather is ripe for it, don’t you think?”

Gwayne released a soft sigh – glad that your change in demeanor was not caused by any sort of distress – and returned your smile with his own. He then wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, and leaned in to settle his forehead against yours. “Only to be held?” He asked with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

You laughed before taking hold of his face with your hands at both sides of his cheeks and placed several quick kisses upon his lips.

a/n: Should I be focusing on Kill My Lord Husband? Yes, probably so. But since this was super short and sweet, I figured there's no harm in taking a little break. All aboard the Gwayne train! 🚂 CHOO! CHOO! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and my askbox is always open. ♡

I may or may not have a smut version of this, but I don't usually write smut, so I'm a little embarrassed and it's probably really bad. So you're stuck with this version for now. Perhaps one day I'll gather the courage to post it.

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-seven of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

They spend a lot longer than Tim actually expects Kon to want to spend on that “couple things”, since obviously they can’t start with the exciting stuff and he just assumes Kon will get bored in about thirty seconds’ worth of Tim Drake’s awkward and over-detailed explanations of every little thing and also will experience immediate regret about admitting that he both doesn’t know how to do something and isn’t going to be immediately good at said something. Any time Kon’s not immediately good at something they’re doing in training he gets mad or pissy or at least frustrated and acts like a total asshole about it, but right now . . . 

Kon falls off the board and lands on his ass for the third time and for the third time just grins up at him sheepishly, and Tim feels very weird and not-normal and sort of just–smitten about it, really. 

“This is way different from surfing,” Kon says with a laugh, shaking his head, which is a little surprising to hear for some reason. If nothing else, Tim would’ve expected Kon to get even more frustrated, if he was assuming any apparent surfing experience might’ve helped him out here. He has heard it usually does, so maybe Kon’s just out of practice or his own standards are just, uh–a little too Bat, maybe. 

“Is it?” he asks, offering Kon a hand up again. Kon did it for him earlier, and anyway, it kinda makes him feel like carrying the other’s bags for him and being trusted with his weight feels. And Kon takes his hand, just like the last two times, and lets him help him up like there’s literally any reason he needs to bother to. “I’ve never tried surfing.” 

“It’s wicked,” Kon says, grinning at him again and giving his hands a quick squeeze before heading over to retrieve the board from where it skidded when he fell. He does not fall like a Bat, but he definitely does know how to. He’s just also clearly expecting his falls to be more of a “terminal velocity” situation than a “tripping off a skateboard” situation. Which, like–fair, yeah. “You gotta use your arms way more, though, and like, it just feels way more like you’re riding something, you know? Concrete just kinda sits there and there’s way less wind to worry about.” 

“Oh, yeah, I never really thought about the wind,” Tim says. Waves, definitely, but he didn’t follow the thought to its logical conclusion. “Pretty sure people based skateboarding on surfing to start, though, so is it really that different? Like, mechanically?” 

“I dunno,” Kon says with a shrug, tucking the board under his arm and trotting back over to him. “I mean, kinda? But also wheels are way harder to feel the ground through ‘cuz they’re spinning the whole time, so sometimes I get dizzy if I hold onto ‘em too much. And like, water moves a lot more than concrete, but the board’s totally flat against it, so like–easier to feel it, I guess? Just feels, like, more intense, kinda.” 

“. . . that’s really interesting, but are you seriously trying to use your TTK when you skate?” Tim asks, trying not to laugh at the idea even though he definitely should’ve expected it. “You’re such a cheater.” 

“Hey, I use TTK when I everything, thanks, and it’s not cheating!” Kon protests with another laugh, which is definitely not the way Superboy would’ve responded to Robin saying something like that. “You’re not cheating when you use your friggin’ ears and eyes, are you?” 

“Oh, blind skateboarding, that sounds terrifying,” Tim muses, and Kon laughs again. 

“I’d die! You’d die!” he says, sounding incredibly delighted about the prospect. 

“So I’m hearing we start with the low ramps, then,” Tim replies reasonably. 

“Oh my god, Tim,” Kon cackles, and then ducks in close to throw his free arm around his neck and kiss him again, his TTK wrapping around him for just a quick flash of pressure of its own. 

Tim feels–very weird, again. 

Specifically, he feels very weird hearing Kon’s voice saying his real name, especially right before kissing him. Kissing him, and also wrapping him up completely in the power he just identified as being as important and natural to him as his hearing and vision and, presumably, any other senses are. 

And again, Kon is clearly really, really tactile, so that’s hard not to be weird about too. 

Kon leans back, back to grinning at him, and Tim feels vaguely mortified and vaguely like eating him alive and also like this date has gone absolutely nothing like he planned, despite his best efforts. Kon brought him a present and he hasn’t bought Kon anything but an amount of grilled cheese sandwiches that can only be described as “inadvisable” and has in fact spent way more money on himself than he has on Kon, plus they’ve spent basically the whole date so far doing things he likes, not– 

“Um, just in case like a building collapses or a supervillain happens or whatever and I gotta run off early, um . . . thanks. For tonight, I mean,” Kon says, the grin he’s barely dropped briefly slipping into something a little shyer, and Tim stares blankly at him for a moment and feels like an insane person, or at least like he maybe just hallucinated that. “I’m really having fun.” 

Tim needs to check on the possibility of hallucinations, yeah. 

“You are?” he asks, fully bewildered by the idea, and Kon laughs again. 

“Obviously, you frickin’ nerd!” he says, then gives him a quick, sheepish smile and another peck on the cheek before turning that almost-inhuman shade of red again and pulling back, putting the board in front of himself and between them. Tim gently simmers to a boil and breaks down into a broth as every single ounce of meat in his body falls right off the bone. “I always have fun with you.” 

. . . Tim is maybe less a broth and now more, like, a stew that somebody left in the crockpot all day, or however Mrs. Mac used to do it. 

“Oh,” he says, desperately trying to remember how to string a functional sentence together that does not sound like a dropped typewriter. “Uh–good! Good. Um–I’m glad. Good. Me, uh–me too.” 

Kon blushes even darker and grins at him again, rocking back on his heels for a moment. 

“Cool,” he says. “Um–thanks, Tim. Again. Some more. I dunno.” 

Tim, again, feels very weird about hearing Kon say his real name, and some part of him kind of thinks, in an odd and distant way–did he just, like . . . forget how to just . . . not be Robin? Like–how to turn it off, and just feel the actually genuine things as Tim Drake, and not just the mask or the sidekick or the namesake? 

Well, that can’t be good. 

Kon keeps grinning at him, half-shadowed in the Gotham night and half-lit by electric Gotham streetlights and looking nothing like anything else Tim’s ever seen in Gotham, and Tim is definitely going to need to pencil in a couple hours on Sunday night to be an incoherent mess about him and also maybe, like . . . process some things, maybe. Think some stuff through. Adjust some– 

“So like, wanna go make out for a while in the full pipe?” Kon suggests hopefully, tipping his head towards it, and Tim forgets literally every single layer of other thoughts he was having. They are literally no longer relevant to anything and he does not care about a single one of them. 

“Yeah, okay,” he says, maybe a little too red himself now, and Kon grins. 

The full pipe helpfully informs them both that Tim can, in fact, give Kon a hickey if the other lets him, and helpfully informs Tim that he is never, ever going to be able to be in the same tri-state area as a mind-reader again. 

Well, he should probably be avoiding those for the next fifteen years anyway, so whatever.