#something something knocking on doors asking for the devil but still

[lastoneout]

given that we've already had people arguing that having sex while there are children in the house is somehow abusive how long do you think before we get someone insisting that it's wrong for pregnant people to have sex bcs the baby can't consent or some shit

[ohcaptains]

𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

college! peter parker x fem reader.

18+ only !!! f! receiving oral sex. peter parker has an oral fixation i said what i said. in my spider-man era again.

peter was a weekly visitor at this point. sometimes, it was twice, but never more than three. three was pushing it.

Three said that Peter meant something to you, and you couldn’t have that. No, whatever this was between the pair of you was strictly transactional. It was Peter texting you late at night, the classic, you up? Gracing your screen, and every time, you would pretend to be annoyed.

As if Peter coming around to give you the greatest head of your life was an inconvenience. Tempted, the devil on your shoulder smirking, to type back, Jesus, again? but never doing it. Instead, you wrote: sure.

Still, it plagued your mind. He never asked for anything else.

It was as if he did this purely for himself.

“Oh fuck,” you mewled, clenching down tight. The hand that was wrapped around Peter’s brown curls clutched and tugged, and the unconscious movement earned you a chastised groan. It rumbled through your cunt, and the echo shot to your clit, making you close your eyes and lean back, wet mouth spilling his name into your dorm.

Peter liked hearing you.

Liked seeing you lose your mind with his head between your thighs, your pussy wet and throbbing from his mouth and fingers. It’s why he came around often. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even text, would just knock on your door -- looking sheepish from under his dark curls -- and just. Not. Say. Anything.

His silence was answer enough. You knew what he wanted. Or, needed, as you later figured out, as you saw how red he’d gotten when you told him he couldn’t come around for a bit. When you said something about focusing on exams, he’d come over anyway, whined, shuffled his feet and said, You can do your work, I just gotta…I’ll be quick.

The lack of explanation made your mind swirl. But regardless, you’d let him in and did your work with his head between your thighs. He’d tutored you, too, told you how to solve for x with his fingers inside of you. He’d said, if you let me make you come again, I’ll do your Maths work for the next week. After he’d left, you stared at the scene of the crime in pure silence.

Just…reflecting.

Peter fluttered his tongue over your swollen clit. Focused on swirling it around his tongue in sloppy, wet circles, and the thick desire that swelled between your thighs began to pool at your lower back, forcing you to arch up into it.

“Please,” you wept, even though he was giving you what you wanted. Flat on your back with his deft grip keeping your bare thighs open. It was 8 pm. He’d caught you just after your shower, so the smell of your shampoo and body wash wafted through the air – Lavender and pear.

Peter had spread you open and said you smelled like spring. You’d been far too turned on to comment on it. He grumbled into your cunt, and you managed to work out the word, more? You hummed, too drunk on him and wound tight to verbalise that yes, you wanted more. Wanted him to make you come, and come again, till all you could do was mumble his name and focus on your breathing.

He'd learnt how you liked it. Paid attention, and he was getting full scores as he pushed his tongue flat against your swollen clit and sucked. Your vision went white.

“Oh fuck – ohfuck, Peter—” you squirmed, but Peter was strong, and he held you to the bed with his vice-like grip, wordlessly saying take it take it take it.

He lapped at you, salvia drooling over your cunt and down his chin, soaking the sheets. He was always so careless. In moments like this, that nervous edge that always fluttered around him was gone, replaced by a visceral drive to either please you, or get what he wanted.

The two bled into each other.

His tempo was leisurely, but that didn’t stop the heat from washing over you all at once.

You clamped your thighs around his ears and moaned -- loud, so loud that you were sure the other students on your floor heard.

Still, the ache was erratic, “So good,” you sobbed, and you heard yourself, heard the near primal need in your voice, and the desperation made you embarrassed, made you cover your mouth with your palm and grip the sheets, willing yourself to cool it. 

“Move your hand, or I’ll stop,” he uttered against you, and your clit was so sore that the echo of his words made your eyes roll back. Peter must have seen, as he hummed a laugh, and kissed your inner thigh, “lemme hear you.”

Managing to gain some sense of sanity, you blearily blinked down at him, but all sense of stability you thought you had was wiped away when you saw Peter had his hand stuffed down his pants.

You dropped back onto the bed and sobbed.

You knew he got off on this, but Jesus Christ, you’d never seen that before.

“Gotta be kidding me,” you breathed, and Peter must have understood what you were referencing, as he buried his reddening face into your inner thigh. He let out a breathy chuckle, “’ M’sorry,” he mumbled, “usually I wait till I get home, but you’re just so hot.”

You had to stay completely still, or you’d burst. Usually, I wait till I get home?

Peter moved his face and began nuzzling the wet folds of your pussy. He bumped his nose against your clit, and you quietly choked.

Peter hummed, “couldn’t help myself.”

You figured he did something like that, but the admission made your thighs tense. You pictured him stumbling home – cheeks still wet with you – and tugging his pants down, quickly shoving his hands into his boxers and taking hold of his aching cock. Did he whimper when he came? Or was he silent, all tremors and low grunts? No. He definitely whimpered.

He was far too pretty to stay quiet.

The sudden desire to kiss him swept over you.

Reaching down, you tugged at his curls, wordlessly motioning him to move. When he did, you briefly saw the red of his cheeks and wet of his nose before you kissed him, all tongue, and tasted yourself on his pink lips.

Peter melted into you. Huffed your name like a sigh, and the sheer tenderness of it had you wrapping your legs around his back and pressing your bare cunt against his jeans.

He was rock-hard. Tentatively, you ran your nails over his chest, and dipped low, pressing between his thighs, cupping his bulge, and gently squeezing. Peter wept.

“Oh fuck,” he sobbed, as desperate as you imagined. With one hand in his hair and the other on his cock, you continued to kiss him, until the ache between your thighs became too much to bear.

“Make me come,” you whispered, “and I’ll put you in my mouth.”

Peter had never moved so fast in his life.

[nemesyaaa]

sweet babyface // toxic!bbydaddy!rafe x reader

summary ; rafe was decided to make your little one, a kook princess. and if it means to spend a million of dollars on a diamond swarovski tiara just to see it on the head of his daughter, you can be sure he's gonna do it.

warnings ; basically fluff but i would add +18 bc of a little bit of suggestive content but not real smut. mention of breeding kink. kind of toxic relationship. a bit of stalking. financial dependence. be aware of the warnings.

author's note ; i just wanted to mention @princessbrunette for the bbydaddy!rafe verse. you can check it on her account <3

even if you tried every time to keep him away, push him away, avoid him or chase him, rafe always came back. you could be cold, distant, suspicious and even cruel, he didn't care. by the way, he was better than you at that game anyway? it wasn’t for nothing that you always lost trying to fight him. he was winning while you were just exhausting yourself out. sometimes you wonder why you let him into your life, why you thought it would be a good idea to have a baby with him when everyone on the island told you he was unstable and uncontrollable. some even laughed at your situation, saying it was like giving something to the devil and hoping he doesn't use it against you.

you couldn't say rafe was a bad father. your daughter had always been outrageously spoiled. he always gave her the biggest and greatest gifts. nothing was ever good enough for his princess. he always thought big when it came to his baby. even if you were a pogue, he wanted to raise her as a fucking kook.

and sometimes you wondered if he did all this out of pure fatherly love or out of narcissism or ego.even if you hated him so much, he absolutely needed to make sure your child was on his side. every time he was there, it was like you no longer existed. the house was full of "dad," "daddy, “ or “ papa, " and babbling and laughing. it was always his name, she never called you. and you always felt a pang in your heart every time he grabbed her in his big veiny arms, making her the happiest little girl before taking her away from you to go on some weekly trips.

even when he was not at home, it was always with the toys he gave her that she played, the dresses he gave her that she wore, the hairstyles that he validated by facetime that she asked you to make, the meals he delivered that she wanted to eat. she was truly daddy’s girl. even in her facial features.

so no matter how much you tried to ignore him, he was still there somehow . through the demands of your daughter, the hundreds of deliveries a day to your door, the objects in this house and even its walls because he was obviously the one who paid for it.

you didn't need to work. you had access to all his cards. at first you spent tons of money on unnecessary expenses hoping it would drive him crazy but the next day you saw that even more money had been added to the bank account.

but rafe cameron didn't give you access to his banking data out of pure kindness and affection alone. he was also looking for a way to control you, and stay in your life. then, with that, he could also stalk you and do inappropriate things like when you bought lingerie and he received the bill. he couldn't stop himself from sending you a message. “don't want to see me, but you dress yourself like you want me to give you a second baby ;) ”

the only rule was that you were forbidden from going to see another man and even less from inviting him to the house. he manipulated you by saying it was for your daughter's mental balance but it was purely out of jealousy. and you knew it very well. you weren't the stupid naive girl he had gaslighted in the past and who he could lie to so easily anymore.

one day, you were giving your kid the extremely expensive cupcakes rafe had bought for her breakfast, trying not to comment on the ridiculousness of the prices but especially the situation, and there was a knock at the door. when you saw through the blinder that it was him, you stepped back discreetly, swallowing hard to not clench. your heart was beating fast in your ribcage as you were trying to silence your stepfoots.

“I know you're here.” you had heard his loud firm raspy voice through the door. “baby, i can hear you breathing and backing up from here. come on, i thought we both get over the time i scared you. ”

he continued to knock on the door until your old neighbor called you claiming that a crazy madman was in front of your house and didn't want to leave.

you had been forced to open up to him which made you even angrier.

but that didn’t stop him from smiling at you, the insatiable white colgate smile. his clean and fresh mullet was long enough that hair brushed the back of his neck. he was wearing one of his perfect black suits with the sleeves rolled up to show a glimpse of his nice shirt. a Rolex was tight around his veiny wrist, and the same rings he always wore were wrapped around his fingers.

he had his ear pierced recently with your daughter. you had been against it, but she still wanted to do like her father so you had no authority over the sweet monster. but you had to admit that the jewelry suited them both so well. especially on rafe, you couldn't help but think about kissing his ear, but especially biting his earlobe while caressing the silver piercing until it's wet and rolling against your tongue. all this perhaps while thinking of having a baby again.

“I should be allowed to come here whenever I want. " he had sworn under his breath, staring at you with his evil blue eyes.

“tell me what you have to say or I’ll call the police.” you replied shortly.

"I want to see my girl. I mean, the one who likes to call me daddy. "

“It’s not funny and she doesn’t want to…”

you hadn't had time to finish speaking before your babyface's little footsteps were running on the floor to come into the hall.

“daddy! " she exclaimed before being carried off the ground to snuggle into her father's strong arms, her little frame being hidden by the size of his biceps.

“that's my little girl.” he welcomed her with a kiss on the cheek, making her chuckle.

"I missed you! please, stay !" your kid had asked with bubbly face and pleading eyes, her childish pout so irresistible to say no.

“of course, I’m staying.”

“raf…” you started but he ignored you, walking in the house without your permission into the living room.

“I have something for you, peaches. ”

he took a present out of his bag and you rolled your eyes. you already knew it was going to be something crazy like the giant dollhouse he built in her bedroom, or the huge dinette in the playroom, or a scary tall comfort teddy bear that she couldn't even carry in her tiny hands. sometimes you wondered what he could offer to her because she already had everything. he had literally built her a heaven.

your daughter's eyes widened in surprise, while a smile floated across her lips in excitement. she opened the gift and took out a silver tiara set with diamonds and stunning crystals signed by Swarovski.

“she’s a baby, rafe…” you commented.

"no, she's a princess. " he corrected you and fixed your little one's hair before putting the tiara on her head, and placing a smack on her forehead. “ don't you see that kook babyface ? ”

she giggled before wrapping her hands around his neck to thank him.

“we need to talk.” you said.

"later. i have a princess to honor for now."

you wanted to fight back and kill him but you couldn't resist your daughter's face. she was happy to be with her father. and you knew it was important for girls to establish a strong bond with their father. and there was this bright spark that shone in her eyes every time she saw him that made you melt.

so you let him stay at home. he stayed with her all day. she managed to make him do whatever she wanted, and that's how he found himself playing with dolls, watching the princess and the frog, doing karaoke to barbie songs, serving as a client for a makeup session, and judging all of her princess dresses while she was making him a haul.

No matter how angry you were that he showed up like that and decided to stay, you couldn't deny the fact that he was damn good, that in the moment, you couldn't find any reason not to like him, even when he caught you spying on them and sent you a smirk to remember that you had no control.

you had decided to do some cleaning, to leave them both for a bit until the end of the day. after a long moment, rafe decided to leave her alone for a bit.

you were downstairs, and you were making food. he raised an eyebrow when he saw you. “don’t forget me.”

“no I’m sorry, I’m cooking for two and you’re not included in it.”

“I was included in this pussy to make you a baby so you can include me in this meal for one night, baby. ‘s nothing. ” he shouted back, chewing some gum arrogantly.

“don’t be trashy.”

"you used to like this..." he carefully said, because he knew he was treading on sensitive ground.

he stood in front of you, picking a taste of the ranch sauce from the bowl before putting it in his mouth. you watched him do it, glaring at the smile on his so fucking evil lickable lips.

“ taste's good. ”

“I want you to leave. “

"We should ask every part of your body if they're okay with this. Maybe it would put you back into your place to feel betrayed by your own self. "

“You’re not good for her.” you confessed.

“I am her father. And from what i know, she's very happy with me. You're the one to have a problem with my presence here. ”

"Please, leave the house. I don't want to call the police."

“exactly, baby.” he moved to stand behind you, rearranging a strand of your hair, his breath hot on the back of your neck. “you don’t want to do it. And you're not forced to do it…” he caressed your hand, slowly putting the knife away from your fingers.

“Step back.”

"I want to stay here tonight. Just this night. She really wants me to stay and would it be cruel to make her sad? You don't want to be the villain, right ? "

“don’t try to manipulate me.”

" mmh, just telling the truth and it makes you mad. you can hate me if you want but she needs me. i'm her dad and you know if I wanted to, I could make her come with me but I love seeing you together. you're a great mom.”

"you will sleep on the couch. and that is non-negotiable. you don't try anything with me, is that okay?"

“Come on, we can sleep together. We are mature and consenting adults.” he replied. "There's nothing I haven't seen before, baby. I know all that lingerie as well as that body hidden behind it."

“about that, stop stalking my bills.”

"Mine , baby. you mean, my bills. these are my cards that you use for your pleasures so I have the right to have an eye on them. even more so when I receive bills for sex toys. you should call me instead of handling it? yourself.”

"After trying them, I'm not sure that you're big enough now. “

jesus, you knew how to provoke him and it worked. he had sniffed the air loudly, trying to contain himself because honestly, he only wanted one thing at the moment, a strong urge that was to fuck you dirty on that counter until he was sure to see your hole tearing to death and dripping to get his cock in. jesus, yeah, he would give anything to see you grimace because it will never fit in but prove you wrong by giving you a second baby.

his jaw was tense and his nostrils were flared. he was forced to clench his fist to avoid touching you. " the day when your babygirl will want a little sister or brother, you better be begging on all fours on my fucking doorstep to convince me to give you another baby. so better to start now and stretch that hole very hard before it's happening because i'm gonna make sure to be breeding you enough to change your whole dna. ”

“ aren't you tired of thr…”

“mom, dad, what are you talking about?” the little girl burst into the kitchen, still with her tiara on her head. a smile appeared when she saw that her dad was still there. because it was rare for him to stay that late.

you warned rafe with your eyes, slashing violently at pieces of vegetables with the knife back in your hand.

“ we were thinking that i could stay tonight. what's your thoughts on this, little one ? want daddy to stay ? ”

“ yes ! i don't want you to leave. stay foreveeeer with me. ”

“ but you know, he can't. he's a businessman. ” you replied.

“ what do you mean, baby ? my only business is right here. ”

” Rafe. ” you said.

“ Baby ? ” he replied with a cocky smile. “ Why don't you tell us what you're cooking ? Seems delicious. Maybe we could get a taste. ”

“ Sweetie, can you go to your room for a second ? I need to talk with your dad. It's not gonna be long. ”

She pouted but agreed after Rafe promised her something if she was listening to her mom.

“you know you can’t stay. "

"All I know is that there is my name in the papers of this house, on your bills, and even on your documents. If I can't stay, you can't escape. So what's better ? ”

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> smut, fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> Song Mingi x reader warning(s) -> smut, mdni. 18+ words -> 2.2k

abstract -> insecurties sometimes need to be faced

y/n’s perspective

Waking up in the middle of the night to Hongjoong’s screaming wasn’t what I expected to ever happen… Seonghwa and Yeosang? Maybe… but Hongjoong and Mingi? Not at all.

“Yah! Seriously you’ve woken everyone up” I heard Seonghwa say in a groggy voice. “You’ll wake up y/nnie if you continue… “ I heard Wooyoung say in a tired voice and saw him hug San… “Never mind you did wake her up,” Yeosang said as he approached me and kissed my forehead. “Ah- Sorry… Mingi is just acting different” he said and San laughed. “Are you scared of the overgrown wolf now?” San asked and Hongjoong growled at him. 

“How difficult can he be? If anything you might’ve done something” Seonghwa said and he scoffed. “Mingi-ah!! Unlock–” “Go away!!” The wolf interrupted the tiger. “You’ve already woken–” “Shut up you stupid overgrown cat!!” he said and I was shocked at what was happening.

Yeosang laughed at the tiger’s expression of pure shock at the wolf hybrid’s behavior… and his comment towards him. 

“Y/n, Mingi is being mean to the cats!” Wooyoung said as he sleepily wrapped his arms around me. “It’s unfair! It’s my room too!” Hongjoong yelled and kicked the door only to hear a growl shortly afterwards. 

“Everyone just go to sleep… Hongjoong you can sleep in my room” I said, already tired and wanted to quickly go back to the warm bed. I was sleepy and didn’t pay attention to the other’s complaints. But luckily Seonghwa was left for damage control. 

“Shut up all of you… Hongjoong will just  have to take her bed tonight” 

I woke up to a cuddly tiger. I smiled softly at how sweet he was. A major difference from when we first met.

I saw my door open slightly and saw familiar eyes. It suddenly swings open. “You’re awake!!” Wooyoung said loudly, waking up the tiger who groaned and hugged me tighter. 

“Hey, let go of her!!” San said and the tiger scoffed. “I have breakfast all done so get up you lazy tiger!” Wooyoung said and I got the chance to brush my teeth and wash my face before going for breakfast. 

“Did you sleep well?” Yeosang asked and I nodded. “I hope Hongjoong didn’t snore, '' Seonghwa said and Yeosang laughed. It was rare that the two got along outside of their room… instead, it's almost like they bully and tease each other to show how they care. It was weirdly toxic.

I noticed everyone here but Mingi. 

“The wolf is still hogging up my room” Hongjoong angrily said while eating toast. “I’ll bring some food to him,” I said and Wooyoung didn’t let me. 

“Whatever he’s dealing with is hybrid-related–” “He won’t hurt me” I cut him off and he looked away but I noticed the flushed cheeks he had.

“It might be his heat?” 

mingi’s perspective

For some reason, Hongjoong’s presence annoyed me. I felt angry. No… needy? I didn’t know.

I heard a knock and I was about to yell at them before I recognized the sweet scent. 

No… I can never be angry at her.

“Mingi are you okay?” she asked but I didn’t know what to say…

I unlocked the door silently when she realized and entered, only making her scent stronger. It made me… even more hungry for her.

“There's a suspicion you’re in heat,” she said and I groaned. I hated my heat… the she-devil would always trap me in the closet until it ended. The thing with hearts is that I couldn’t ever get off by myself… so when the time came that my heart or even Yunho’s came we’d admit each other to heat hotels. It was uncomfortable.

I nodded while looking away from her. 

“You can go to a heat hotel or suppressants?” I asked and I wondered if I should go for the option most familiar to me. 

Heat Hotels weren’t the worst… Most of the time it was actually helpful. 

“You might wanna get advice from a hybrid though not me”

“Hongjoong is the only one to go to the hotel,” San told me while the rest seemed to agree. “Yeosang, did you go to one?” Seonghwa asked while the doberman scoffed. “No, I didn’t! I wouldn’t waste my time with some stupid run-down hotel” he growled out. 

I highly doubt he went to one with his experience. 

“It was only Hongjoong '' Seonghwa said while the orange tiger seemed uninterested in talking about his experience. “Oh and threatened his heat partner and almost had y/n under a lawsuit,” Yeosang said and I sighed. “Just ask her for help,” San noted and I was shocked they were allowing it so easy. 

The tigers told me how the two canine hybrids completely shut them out until circumstances happened. 

“You won’t be satisfied if you go to a hot hotel. Not with the boner you had when you left your room with y/n '' Yeosang teased and I growled softly. 

“Have you ever even had sex Mingi?” Seonghwa asked and I nodded. “I’ve gone to heat hotels before” I confessed and they sighed. 

“Even if you do decide on a heat hotel they’ll just comment on how you’re a pet. Hybrids seem to hate or pity ��collectibles’ and just taunt you the entire time” Hongjoong said and I wondered if that's how it was. 

Was it really that different now that I had a fancy collar?

“What if you just go there without a collar?” Wooyoung asked and they shook their heads. “They have a collar policy,” I said.

“I think if he doesn’t want to mate with y/n let him go and see if he survives longer than Hongjoong,” Seonghwa teased but I think it was the best idea.

She wouldn’t want me as a mate anyway. Who would?

“If you feel uncomfortable, have the staff call me okay?” she asked and I nodded. 

They’re pairing me off with another dog hybrid. It wasn’t until I got into the room that I saw what breed… a golden retriever.

“Hi!” she said with a big smile and her tail wagging. The staff left me with her and I felt nothing but sadness. I missed Yunho. 

“You’re a lot bigger than I thought when they told me you were a wolf-runt hybrid,” she said and I tried not to let that offend me. It was normal for hybrids to point out if they were runts.

“You smell like a lot of hybrids though,” she said and I nodded. “I live with five other hybrids,” I said and she looked shocked. “I’m the only one. My owner is nice but she wants to get another hybrid” she pouted and I sighed. Some owners may show favoritism if they do get multiple hybrids.

“What is it like?” she asked and I laughed. “Chaotic” I answered and she nodded. She looked up at me with big doe eyes that I almost mistook her for a deer hybrid. 

“You wanna start?” 

y/n’s perspective

“He’s been gone for four days” Wooyoung whined about missing the wolf hybrid. “I’m surprised how long he’s staying there for,” Hongjoong said and I had to agree. 

Mingi was shy and sweet. I didn’t expect him to last long at a Hyatt hotel. 

“Angel, there's a new perfume I want!” Yeosang said and I smiled. “Oh?” I said and he nodded. “It's only available for pick up in the store” he pouted and I nodded. 

I was already ready and Wooyoung wanted to tag along. 

The three of us went to pick up his perfume and a second one for Seonghwa who would probably steal Yeosang’s if we didn’t.

We were picking up some food when I got a call about the heat hotel.

“I don’t wanna go near there” “Me either!” the two hybrids said and I sighed. “Please it’ll be quick to pick up Mingi,” I said and they agreed eventually.

We got near the hotel when Yeosang was hugging my arm. “Hello, the hybrid paired up with Mingi was picked up early. We wanted to know if you would like a refund for the rest of the days you paid or pair him up with someone new?” she asked and I looked at Mingi who shook his head. 

“I’ll take him now,” I said as she handed me the refund and a paper of the other hybrid’s information. She was a golden retriever hybrid, a purebred too.

“That's such a disgusting place,” Yeosang said and I noticed how quiet Mingi is. I was getting worried… was he okay? Hongjoong was quite like this too when he came to the heat-hotel but that's because of his hatred of how he was called a collectible… was Mingi okay?

We got home and he was still a bit off… was it something that happened?

I followed Mingi to his room when he must've noticed me. He didn’t say anything and waited for me. 

“Are you okay?” I asked and he nodded. “Just… pent up?” he said in a low voice, almost not sure of himself… “Did something happen–” “She reminded me of Yunho… She was a golden retriever hybrid. I guess I was a little angry? I was too rough with her…” he confessed and I kneeled. 

Lately, Kun has been telling me that he’s been a little off when mentioning Yunho. Almost territorial against the dog hybrid who he hasn't seen. 

“Is your heat done?” I asked and he shook his head. “It's okay… I only have a few more days left” he said and I shook my head. 

“I could help?” He looked at me confused. “If that makes you uncomfortable I have heat suppressant–” “Please help me”

no one’s perspective

Mingi almost didn’t know what he was doing. He had very little experience with his heats… he wasn't a virgin but he was also inexperienced… and it's not like you were any better.

“I don’t want to hurt you like I did her” he muttered… “You won’t… you must’ve been remembering Yunho huh?” you reassured and he nodded. 

“This is my home… I finally have something of my own that I don’t share with him” he confessed his wish and you gave him a soft smile “We’ll always be your family,” 

That must’ve comforted him… and probably gave him the courage to kiss you gently, almost too scared to go rough… It was an intimate and almost desperate kiss. 

He then started kissing you on your jaw and neck feeling him suck on your skin making marks of his that will surely tick off the others. Especially Yeosang and Hongjoong…

Desperate for it to escalate you grabbed his hands to make him a little more comfortable and placed them on your chest as he started to massage your chest with each one getting rougher. 

He then ripped the shirt you had on to start marking your skin lower now. Sucking and teasing your chest as he got more rough. 

He looked at you with pleading eyes when his hands found your waist and softly tugged on the pants you were wearing. You nod silently and he takes them off along with your panties. 

He circled your clit with his hands before thrusting his fingers into you. Mingi was very tall and his fingers were reaching places that fingers hadn't found before. It was all new territory as he would be the biggest one you’d take out of all your hybrids. 

At some point the pleasure was too much you couldn’t hold in the whimpers and moans that you let out while he decided to now stretch you and prepare you for his size. “Give me one… just one before I go inside you please, pup,” he had pleaded as you felt your body snap and you listen to him cumming once now by his fingers. Coming off that high you didn’t notice the shuffling as he now lined himself up to your entrance even tapping your clit with his  tip. He grabbed your thighs and looked at you silently seeing if I was okay. In which you’d give him a soft smile that would only fuel his head to get rough with you and corrupt you.

You couldn’t have suspected his size would hurt and stretched you open to the point that it would feel like San taking your virginity all over again. 

“I’m sorry just a little more please?” he’d apologize and soon beg breathlessly as he bottomed out. He moved to kiss away the tears that fell down your cheeks even licking them up to taste the salty liquid.  

“We can stop–” you shook my head and even gripped his arm tighter so he didn’t move. “You’re just so big… I need to get used to it” you whined out and he nodded as he kissed you in hopes to distract you from the burning sensation whilst he was inside you. 

As he stayed still you began to grow frustrated wanting him to move. Whining out “Mingi” he chuckled softly. You were okay but it only irritated you and made you more impatient. He was going painfully slow… and you wanted more. 

“Please Mingi, faster” you pleaded and he nodded as he started going faster. Hybrids were more sensitive during heats but especially now since Mingi has a few days with his heat he started getting desperate and you forgot a crucial detail.

Mingi was a canine hybrid. 

“I’m sorry pup… you can handle it it’ll be okay” he said as he continued giving me sweet praises as he knotted me. Which gave you a delicious type pain as he grew in size.

“Shhh… you said you’d help me right? Just a little more”

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[simplyraeblue]

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Professional (Shouta Aizawa x reader)

!afabreader x aizawa as a teacher, reprimanding wasn't uncommon for you to practice. you being reprimanded? only allowed by Shouta Aizawa. WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing, NSFW, MDNI, p in v, creampie (don't be silly wrap your willy!), somewhat public sex, sex on a desk, going commando (couldn't be me), no pronouns used, use of sweetheart, light bondage (gagged by a tie), punishment kink A/N: art above by ficel_art on instagram! I saw it on pinterest first but immediately deep dove onto their account. dadzawa was just too hot in this art to not immediately write something for him ( ´ཀ` ) word count: 1,930

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you loved being a teacher at U.A. – but some days, it felt like the little future heroes were actually little devils. it was about the third time that little… twat waffle… named Katsuki Bakugo had interrupted your class just today to bully Izuku Midorya. while your mental nickname for him wasn’t very teacherly, the best you could do was to speak to his homeroom teacher.

after lunch had started, you marched your exhausted ass to Shouta’s classroom. someone needed to knock some sense into that kid, and you were very sure it wasn’t going to be you doing the job. if you tried… well, you’d probably lose your job with the words you’d use. and Bakugo could be even worse in return, you were certain of that.

you didn’t bother to knock at the door as you shoved it open to find Shouta sitting at the desk grading a stack of papers. he glanced up at your loud intrusion, an eyebrow arching up when he saw the look on your face, already knowing that you were ready to unload.

“who was it today?” Shouta hummed as he merely returned his focus to the homework in front of him without missing a beat. you slammed your hands on his desk, earning his full attention on you.

“I’m going to try very hard to speak in a professional manner, so listen up because I’m not repeating myself.” you warned him with a glare sharp enough to cut through steel. Shouta raised an eyebrow, hands up in a silent gesture to proceed. “I know you love your students – and don’t try to lie – but you need to reprimand Bakugo more often. he’s disrupted my class every day this week, and I’m seriously considering putting him on probation from participating in the sports festival.”

Shouta slowly stood, moving around the desk as he processed your words, nodding along. “so, you think he should be punished?” he asked, his voice even.

you nodded firmly. “and I’m asking you to help.”

he gave a small, knowing shrug. “and you’re trying to be professional about it?”

“well, I like to think of myself as a professional most of the time.” you chuckled dryly as you shook your head. in the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were getting close to the point where you might use your quirk on the brat a few times… but that would only happen if you were specifically asked to for training purposes.  

Shouta had made his way to your side by now, standing a few inches from you as he smirked. when you noticed his expression you raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know that I’d call you the most professional of teachers.” he told you as he looked down into your eyes.

“what’s that supposed to mean, Shouta?” you dared to ask, still confused as to where he was going with this. “are you going to give me an exhaustive list of the reasons I’m not professional, because it wouldn’t be the first time you have.”

“no, not an exhaustive list today.” he snickered before his hand drifted to grasp at your hips. you jumped slightly at the contact, sucking in a breath when he ruched the hem of your skirt in his fingers.

he’d been watching you since this morning, the black pencil skirt you wore showing off the plush of your ass as you walked down the hallway to attend to the students. his eyes followed you like magnets wherever you went – and he hadn’t been ignorant enough to miss the tiny little detail he was about to bring to your attention.

before he spoke again, he swiftly lifted you to sit on the edge of his desk, causing you to gasp. when he leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, he whispered, “for now, let’s start with the fact that you’re not wearing any panties.”

immediately, a smirk crossed your lips. “ah, so you finally noticed?” you murmured, cheeks heating with his breath on your ear.

“I noticed long ago. I’m assuming this was for me?” he asked as his nose nuzzled your neck, making you groan. “you just couldn’t wait until we were home could you, sweetheart?”

“you’re always so tired when you get home, I just wanted you to know what you had to look forward to.” as you explained, you thought back to getting dressed this morning – you’d quickly thrown on your outfit, neglecting your panties while your husband was in the bathroom. Shouta had been none the wiser when he’d come out, simply giving you a morning kiss before the two of you left for work.

“I don’t know, I kind of want it right now.” you pulled back to study his face, seeing them dark with desire as his hands palmed your ass through your skirt. “we have some time while the students are at lunch, what do you say?”

you were reminded every day of how hot your husband was, and now was no exception. “lock the door.” you instructed him, to which he pushed off of you and secured the door. when he returned, he wasted no time in crashing his lips into yours.

“we should still be quick, sweetheart. don’t want any of the students roaming the hallway to hear us.” Shouta whispered between your lips, taking your lower one into his mouth and sucking harshly on it.

“then you’d better be quiet.” you teased, something that you always learned your lesson for doing later. you felt him smirk into the next kiss he gave you as he pushed your skirt up to your waist, cold air hitting your wetting pussy.

he knew how to be fast, and quiet. it was something Shouta learned very quickly within his line of work – but you’d figured out how to make that increasingly more difficult for him to put into practice. your hands all but ripped his belt off before shoving his pants and boxers down, revealing his cock standing at attention.

god, he’d thought about using his lunch time to find a secluded place and jerk off to the thought of you. after noticing your lack of underwear this morning, it was all he could think about, repeatedly having to clear his mind while working. but this was even better, he thought.

you watched in awe as Shouta pulled his tie off, and just as you wondered if he would throw it to the side, he instead pushed the fabric between your teeth and swiftly tied it behind your head. “now, you have to be the one to be quiet.” Shouta taunted as he placed a light kiss on your gagged mouth.

while he lined his tip with your seeping hole, you whimpered against the fabric muffling your words. Shouta was painstakingly slow in pushing inside of you, your walls stretching to accommodate his immense girth as you moaned at the feeling of his veiny cock molding your walls.

when he finally bottomed out, he let out a low groan of pleasure before placing a hand on your chest and pushing you back to lay flat on the desk. “I’m beginning to think your lack of professional is what needs to be punished.” Shouta teased as he leisurely rolled his hips into yours causing your eyes to roll back. “but I guess I’ll have to save your true penalty for tonight, since we need to be quick.”

 you nodded fervently as he began to slam into you, the desk creaking beneath you with every bullying thrust. “please.” your beg came out muffled, but enough for him to understand.

Shouta’s lips covered yours to add an extra layer of quieting your noises, his dick now repeatedly slamming into your walls with a fierce pace. he pulled away for a moment to spit onto your clit before his fingers began to work the sensitive nub. “don’t worry, sweetheart. tonight, you’re going to get a good punishment that I think you and I both will enjoy.” you whimpered at the thought, already knowing your ass would be bruised and sore come tomorrow morning.

“fuck I’ll never – mph – get sick of – hah – this pussy.” Shouta bit out with each smack of his hips into your ass, the noises the two of you were creating become filthier every second. as he brutally circled your clit, pinching it between his fingers, you moaned into the now wet fabric between your teeth. he always had been an expert at getting you close with almost no effort, and you could already feel the knot coiling in your stomach. “so perfect for me sweetheart. such a perfect wife.”

he was a little sad that he needed to be fast, wanting to savor every bit of you, but after looking at the clock Shouta realized that time was almost up. “gonna need you to – hmph – come on my cock now, sweetheart. need you to come before I fill you up.”

with his demand, he slapped a hand down onto your clit harshly, making your back arch off the desk in response. “Shouta!” your husband’s name barely passed your lips before he smacked your clit again, caressing it between each contact until you were coming undone beneath him. “m’ coming!”

Shouta swore under his breath as he watched your body convulse below, your pretty eyes rolling back just as your slick walls clenched around his cock. if he had more time, he’d keep going until you couldn’t walk for a week – but he’d just have to save it for tonight. for now, he allowed his release to barrel over him alongside yours.

his head fell down between your covered tits, the fabric of your shirt doing nothing to hide them as he muffled his own whines of pleasure before he was shooting ropes of cum inside you. he’d buried himself to the hilt to make sure you got every last drop, praying it was deep enough to ensure it stayed trapped inside of you for the rest of the day.

with perfect timing, he started to come down from the high just as the bell rang, echoing in your now almost deaf ears. Shouta slowly pulled out, hissing at the loss of warmth against his cock, before quickly pulling his tie from your lips. he used it to clean himself up before kneeling down to wipe away any mess he’d left between your thighs.

“maybe I should’ve brought a backup pair of panties.” you groaned as you slowly sat up. “now I’m going to have to worry that our unborn children are going to leak down my thighs the rest of the day.”

“you wicked woman, that foul mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one day.” Shouta smirked as he kissed you softly. you watched as he walked back around his desk and opened a drawer, before he pulled out a pair of your panties. “it’s a good thing I noticed before we left the house and brought these just in case.”

your jaw dropped out as you snatched them from him. “you knew! and you let me think I’d seduced you.” a pout formed on your lips before you slipped the underwear on, praying it was enough to prevent any embarrassment.

Shouta only caressed your head, his lips meeting yours again. “you seduce me without even trying, sweetheart.” you grinned at the words until his hand gently wrapped around your throat. “but don’t forget, you’re still getting reprimanded later.”

you’d never been so excited to get punished.

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Link to Kirishima x reader here (word count: 902)

Link to Shoto x reader pt. 1 here (word count: 1,800)

Link to Kaminari x reader pt.1 here (word count: 2,680)

Link to Bakugo x reader here (word count: 2,328)

Link to Hawks x reader here (word count: 1,903)

[catsgut]

FROM BUD TO BLOOM - GOJO

warning : incest, drugging, noncon

“we know you just turned 18, but we were your age once, you know. even if it was years and years ago,” you rolled your eyes and groaned, falling onto the couch. “we just know how kids your age think,” your dad said backing your mom up. they were leaving for a week for work and just broke the news to you that you wouldn’t be staying at your house alone. part of you could understand where they were coming from, but you had just turned 18. it was bullshit they didn’t trust you enough to not throw a party.

but somehow, someway, they trusted your immature and spontaneous uncle to hold the fort down while they were gone. you weren’t really close with uncle satoru, so it didn’t bother you any that he would be there, it was the lack of trust your parents had for you. it was almost insulting.

a loud knock on the thick wood of your front door brought you out of your thoughts. speak of the devil. “toru!” your dads voice boomed at the sight of his older brother, arms wrapping around his shoulders to pat on his back. “hey,” you heard a smooth voice follow before the sound of shoes on the floor. “good to see you again,” gojo said to your mom with a bow and his signature smile. you sat up and peered over at the three older adults in the entrance hall, looking over the man you rarely ever saw. you were surprised he even answered to the text your dad shot him about the favor they had needed. gojo’s predatory eyes wandered over to where you were sitting on the couch and smirked.

“hello, angel,” he spoke eyeing every inch you down as if he could see what you were thinking. “your babysitter has arrived!” his long legs brought him to stand over you, head leaning forward to get a good look at your face. it had been so long since he had seen his pretty little niece. you sighed, closing your eyes you laid back down ignoring the annoying comment, still feeling hurt by the lack of trust your parents had for you. “aw not happy to see your uncle, little girl?” he chuckled and looked back over to your parents. “you nothing to fear! i’ll make sure everything goes… smoothly.” they just nervously looked at one another before putting their bags in the car.

they said their goodbyes and you hugged your mom tight. “it’s not too late to tell him to leave,” you mumbled into her shoulder before she flicked your forehead. “nonsense. now be good for satoru,” she said before kissing your cheek. “we will be back in a week.”

honestly, the first few days went by fine. you hadn’t spoke to gojo much and just hid up in your bedroom playing computer games. he actually wasn’t so bad, usually watching tv, cooking something, or laying out by the pool. the one thing you did notice about uncle satoru was that he liked the ac on full blast. colder than what your parents usually keep it at. several times he has pointed out your clearly hard nipples through the thin fabric of your pajama shirt. “you cold?” he’d ask with a grin and you crossed your arms over your chest furiously. it was embarrassing, but you assumed it was because he was just as immature as when you were a kid.

even though he kept the house at freezing temperatures, gojo absolutely loved to spent time outside. he would stay out there hours laying in the sun. a couple of times you had caught yourself staring out your bedroom window at the shirtless man laying on the pool chair. although he was in his 40s, you could tell he was still very active for his age. your eyes traced down his abdomen, taking in every detail of his defined body before looking back up to his face. to your absolute horror, he was already looking back at you with a sky smile. you quickly sat back down on your bed feeling your face get hot.

after that you avoided him as best as you could. he probably thought you were some kind of pervert, and you hated yourself for it. his own niece looking at his body in that manner. god, you needed to get ahold of yourself.

“hey.” you heard a voice in your ear from behind. it was the middle of the night and you were making yourself a snack. startled, you quickly turned around to be face to face with your uncle. “hmm, are you avoiding me, little girl?” he cocked his head to the side. you groaned at the nickname he had decided to give you. “i’m not little anymore,” you rolled your eyes and turned your back to him, hiding your embarrassed face. why couldn’t he just leave you alone.

“that’s right! you’re 18 now… you feel any older?” gojo asked leaning against the counter next to you, arms crossing over his muscular chest. you shrugged and stared down at your hands. why was he talking to you so casually after what happened just hours earlier. “i remember when i was 18. had the girls alllll over me,”. he giggled and sighed as he reminisced. “of course, they still are.”

you stared over at him with a look of horror at his comment. “what? embarrassed? well don’t worry, i won’t tell if you won’t,” his big hand rubbed your shoulder before placing it on top of your head. “do you have a boyfriend, y/n?” you shook your head quickly feeling more and more uncomfortable. “never had one before.”

that seemed to get his attention because he raised an eyebrow. “never? wow… so you’re a virgin then right? damn, if i were your age i would have jumped at the chance.” you didn’t know how to answer that, almost feeling ashamed being called out for something that was probably weird for a girl your age. of course you were a virgin, never even having your first kiss.

gojo stared down onto you for what seemed like hours before leaning closer. “so what you’re saying is you aren’t really a woman…yet,” he harshly squeezed one of your cheeks before leaving you alone, standing there in shock. ‘was that normal for uncles to do?’ you thought. you tried to brush it off, hurrying up in the kitchen before running off to your bedroom for the night. did that really mean you weren’t a woman? is it really that obvious? it made you feel insecure and uncomfortable at the realization. little did you know, gojo couldn’t get the thought of his sweet little niece being a virgin. he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

on his third night over gojo had offered some alcohol after getting back from the store. he said it would be good for the both of you to drink and bond over a movie. not wanting to seem little, you accepted his offer, sipping on the mixed drink he gave you. it tasted fruity and made your face twist in disgust. did adults really drink this crap? you would never say it, but this was your first time having alcohol and so far you couldn’t say you were enjoying it.

but was it normal to feel this funny after a couple sips? ‘must be a lightweight,’ you thought, eyelids blinking almost in slow motion. alcohol felt weird… why was your body feeling heavier?

you looked over at your uncle who was watching tv a few feet from you. his long legs were spread and he was picking at a hangnail on his thumb, biting at it occasionally. you cocked your head to the side as you watched the man. you felt guilty at the fact your stomach was doing flips at the sight of him just existing. it wasn’t normal to have these thoughts about your uncle, but here you were thinking the nastiest things.

you watched his eyes flick over to where you were sitting, giggling to yourself with your legs crossed. “what’s so funny?” he sat up a bit and patted the spot next to him. “come sit by your uncle.” his long finger beckoned you over as you slowly crawled over to him, head running into the side of his shoulder from losing your balance. “woah there,” he laughed and wrapped an arm around you. “how you feelin’ kid?” his eyes stared at you already knowing the answer to his question.

truth is you could barley see at this point. “ish thisss… normal?” you mumbled, head rolling to the side. “just gave you a little something extra… to make ya feel good,” you heard him say under his breath before pushing your back against the couch. his words didn’t register in your brain, but you felt his big hands on your hips, massaging them. you felt his long fingers hook into your waist band, playing with it for a bit, before slowly pulling your pants down your thighs. everything was happening so fast yet so slow at the same time. “mmm what doinn’?” your question went unanswered as rubbed his pointer finger over your pussy, listening to the wet noises it made. you moaned and closed your eyes, lip being pulled in between your teeth.

he inserted his finger before a second and then a third. your body naturally reacted to the foreign feeling, back arching and hips lifted off the cushions of the couch. he chuckled and pushed on your lower stomach. you tried sitting up, but between whatever it was you had drank and your uncle pinning you down you were unable to do anything but lay there and take whatever he wanted to give.

“just stay right there pretty girl,” you barley heard him say, and after that everything went black. you didn’t know what was happening to you even if you tried to fight it, drifting off into sleep. the last thing you remember was hearing the sound of fabric rustling, not knowing it was gojo taking off his sweat pants.

“missed you,” you hugged your mother tightly, face burring into her neck. you really, really did.

after that movie night with uncle satoru, you had felt off. your lower body ached and your head was fuzzy. you chalked it up to lack of sleep, but something deep down told you it wasn’t…. you were missing something big that happened but you couldn’t remember for the life of you. maybe it was the fact you woke up in your bed in a different pair of clothes, or maybe it was the weird sticky mess in your panties. the whole situation was off.

“she’s been an angel all week,” he told your parents with a hand on your shoulder. your parents told gojo he was so generous and that they were so thankful for helping them out. he even offered to let you stay with him when you went to college! your parents were so very happy to hear that, telling you it would be an amazing experience. you knew they just wanted you out the house, but all you could do was smile, not knowing what to do or say, showing gojo he got away with his sins that took place that night. showing him that he would be able to get away with something far, far worse.

[mother-na]

Yandere Dr. Ratio X Reader [MDNI]

A Oneshot detailing the “punishment” served to you by Ratio after you’d ignored his rules and left to gain evidence for an essay he’d only given to you to distract you.

Warnings/Tags: Yandere behavior/rules, intercourse, spanking, creampie.

Comic Version: Linked at the bottom. Stelle is used as a placeholder for Reader.

You walked down a white hall, its tapestries mimicking the windows that adorn the spacecraft that Dr.Ratio calls his base. You were… both excited and anxious.

”If you’re truly so determined to find something to do, write me an essay. Procure your evidence through factual means within my library. The topic can be whatever you wish, I only ask you make this infernal conversation worth my valuable time.” Dr. Ratio had said in exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had been particularly busy so your badgering didn’t come all that welcome. Still though!

You’d successfully weared him down! After weeks of begging him to let you do something that wasn’t sitting around in his base, he had assigned a task to you.

What you really wanted was an exploration task. Ratio, for some reason, had asked you not to leave the aircraft. It’s not like he enforced it but the bone-chilling disappointed stare he’d give you for it typically swayed you.

But you had broken that rule for the sake of your assignment, running off to find different oddities and record them in your essay. The hope was that Ratio would see your genius and bravery and let you loose a little. Of course, you planned to slightly omit your departure.

You had cited it as a previous experience. Ratio wouldn’t know what you’d done until afterward, when you tell him.

You stopped in front of his door, one of his many offices, trying not to crush the paper in your hands between your fingers. Was this a good idea..? It’s not like Ratio gave you a deadline, maybe you should just rewrite it..?

You shook your head, absolutely not! You’d worked so hard for this, you can’t turn back now!

You knocked generously on Ratio’s door. Not even a second later did Ratio call out to the door, “Enter.”

You walked in as Ratio lifted his head from his papers, nearly assuming a polite posture before seeing it was merely you, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed you briefly.

”Greetings (Y/N), I was worried you ran off. Neither I nor anyone else residing in this spacecraft has seen you for several days. Was there something you were searching for?” Ratio addressed you, glaring into your eyes with an indiscernible look. Even from the door to the desk, it felt like his gaze was mere inches from you.

Despite his suspicion being clear, him asking if you were searching for something was a genuine inquiry. Had you needed or desired something, he’d have provided it in an instant.

You hugged your paper close to your chest, Ratio’s eyes looking down at it as it crinkled in your arms.

”I was- um… writing the essay you asked for!” You said, doing a short sprint to his desk and extending the now slightly wrinkled paper to him in what you thought was confidence.

Before Ratio had even placed the paper on his desk, he’d clicked a red pen open with one hand. You felt your confidence plummet.

”W-Well um, I’ll be on my way.” You turned and began to scramble your way out the door before you heard him speak.

”Stop.” Ratio’d ordered simply, making you pause in your departure.

You turned to see his eyes flickering over the page rapidly, his brows furrowed. That cursed red pen glided on just about every inch of the paper.

Finally, he closed his eyes and placed the paper down. Leisurely, he rose from his seat. He looked like he was fighting the devil themself for patience!

Ratio let out a breath, preparing to speak.

”Let’s go over your mistakes, yes?” Ratio proposed, “Come, why don’t you read it?” he took a step to the side, letting you nervously slink beside him and his desk.

”Put your hands on the desk.” Ratio ordered. You turned to look at him like a kicked puppy. He wasn’t really gonna do what that implies right?

But Ratio only looked down at you, waiting for you to do it. He must know what you were thinking, but he gave no implication that what you were thinking was wrong. Rather, he looked quite knowing!

With a new bright blush of embarrassment, you placed your hands on either side of the paper onto the firm wooden work surface.

Ratio started pointing with his pen at some of your minor mistakes. It started out calmly with his body close to your own form, his heat transferring to you. His voice was just behind you as he elaborated on even the smallest of mistakes.

As he spoke, Ratio would make the smallest of movements. A gentle press against your body and behind. An “incidental” brush of his lips against the shell of your ear making you shiver. A wave of air hitting your behind as he seemed to toy with the hem of your skirt.

You felt warm and found you could not focus on what he was saying. In response, Ratio chose to give you a small shock, brushing his fingers against the hem of your underpants.

You gasped a bit, finding your mind a little numb. You wanted Ratio’s approval, and subsequently his attention. Despite this, you hadn’t thought he’d be okay doing this to you. You don’t find yourself wanting to complain, but you’d really like to know where this is coming from.

”Pay attention. Have you spotted it yet? The betraying blunder in this error-riddled report you’ve presented me?” Ratio growled behind you while stroking your clothed pussy slowly.

You can’t tell if he’s trying to motivate you to listen, but if that’s the case it’s not working.

Ratio leans over you before placing his pen down, using the now free hand to blanket your own and stroke your fingers.

”If you recall, ‘Procure your evidence through factual means within my library.’” Ratio reiterated his previous orders impeccably. One would’ve thought that he wouldn’t have remembered the exact words, and yet.

You swallow a small whine as Ratio allows the hand caressing your soft flesh to brush your skirt up and over to your waist, and thus revealing your soft ass to the cold air.

Ratio pressed his fingers and essentially massaged the flesh of your ass before speaking, “Despite my orders, your cited evidence comes from ‘personal experience.’”

“How odd.” Ratio continued, his voice firm and thick with disappointment.

For a confusing moment, Ratio lifted his warm hand off your flesh. Only for a moment though, as before you could even question his motives he’d replanted his hand harshly against the skin.

You gasped (moaned?) in shock as your poor butt stung from the harsh treatment. Still, Ratio’s hand didn’t stop moving.

”I wasn’t informed of this ‘experience’ of yours.” he’d taunted as his hand passed over the red mark forming on your ass cheek and down back to your underwear. You resisted the urge to squirm as Ratio looped a finger inside your underwear.

“It’s almost like you tried to hide it from me.” Ratio suddenly tugged on your underwear and forcing the cloth against your sensitive pussy. You tried to lift yourself onto your toes to alleviate the strange sensation, but Ratio’d only tug harder.

Ratio didn’t stop drilling his words into you, “Are my resources not enough? Am I not enough?”

Ratio’s voice, while predominantly angered, also sounded somewhat hurt by your apparent betrayal. It made you feel a little guilty.

As Ratio glared down at you he began to lose his confident shell, lifting the side of your underwear to view your sensitive pussy.

”If you’re so desperate,” Ratio spoke as though he’d made his choice as you began to hear him messing with presumably his clothes. “For experiences…”

Ratio’s breath grew uneven as you were left wondering what he was thinking. Your mind is so muddled that you oddly didn’t guess what he was going to do.

It was only when you felt something warm and blunt press against your exposed entrance that you’d realized too late.

“Then I simply must oblige.” Ratio partially scowled before cruelly thrusting his entire length within your vulnerable twitching pussy. Aside from the initial intrusion, it wasn’t uncomfortable. You couldn’t place why until Ratio began to taunt you.

”You’re absolutely soaked.” Ratio’d pointed out. His voice was low and sounded annoyed. He seemed to be struggling to choke down his own groans.

Ratio moved his hands, one put firmly on the back of your neck and the other lifted one of your legs onto his desk. His hands weren’t harsh, but their grip was unyielding.

”Were you this eager to be punished?” Ratio sneered at you. His cock massaged your inner walls in a slow rhythm, drawing lewd fluid from your twitching hole.

Ratio leaned over you steadily, blanketing your body with his own and forcing your front against the cold desk. With one arm now wrapped beneath your neck and head, his heartbeat felt through his muscular arm, he spoke again.

“Do you enjoy the sensation of my cock stuffing you to the brim?” Ratio growled from just behind you, as he placed his head right beside your own. You not only heard his voice within your sensitive core, but also through his chest as he pushed against you.

His hands snaked over your body, over your shoulders and neck, before finding themselves on your wrists.

”Is this,” Ratio hoisted you off the desk with his cock still inside you, “Personal enough for you? Still feel you need more?”

Ratio picked up the pace, the slapping of his hips meeting your red ass loud. He kept you gripped firmly, not allowing you to budge and trapping you between the desk and his pounding hips.

You could hardly think! Your whole core was throbbing with need and was being slammed relentlessly with Ratio’s cock head kissing your virgin cervix. You couldn’t even form words!

”Are you receiving enough experience? Speak up. I can’t hear you.” you were taunted by Ratio as you could only moan and whimper from his sturdy phallus.

Ratio too was falling apart slowly. His voice was firm from years of remaining adamant with acquaintances and students, but his breath was wavering and he took erratic sharp breaths.

Ratio was reaching his limit and so were you. He thrusted recklessly and held you by your arms, his huffings being drowned out by your own moans of pleasure.

”Take it… take it all. Every last drop.” Ratio growled behind you, his grip now uncomfortable but entirely masked by the pleasure between your legs.

Ratio didn’t pull out. He, as he said, sprayed his thick cum directly into your defenseless womb. It was warm and with his final thrust, it ripped a quaking orgasm from your panting form. You could feel your walls squeeze Ratio, and from his small groans, he could feel it too.

Only when your womb was properly pumped full of Ratio’s essence did he pull his dripping cock out.

You collapse onto the desk as Ratio releases you, pulling up his pants as he turns to leave.

”Don’t let me ever catch you putting yourself in danger again.” Ratio firmly warned you as he left you twitching on his desk and leaking cum out of your now-stretched hole.

As Ratio left you exhausted and sexually satisfied, he kept thinking about you. You shouldn’t have left. Everything he does is to protect your reckless self from the harsh world.

Perhaps, if you’re pregnant, you would not be able to act as foolishly.

Comic Version: https://x.com/na_nsfw_/status/1819871482056450051?s=61

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ let me show you ] d. mercer

day 5 of kinktober (praise kink w/ dawson mercer)

paring : Dawson Mercer x fem!reader

summary : Dawson shows his best friend how sex is supposed to feel

warning(s) : smut ! inexperienced!reader, soft dom!dawson, oral (f recieving), p in v, protected sex, praise kink, pet names during sex

author’s note : being so serious when i say that this is (i think) the first time im writing for merc so plsss bear w me and tell me what you think. it was supposed to be on she shorter end, but i got a lil carried away so there is actual plot including. enjoy <33

kinktober schedule

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That is not how sex is supposed to feel. Even with only one hookup prior to tonight under her belt, she doesn't think it was supposed to be that bad. Both her hookups to this day were honestly bad, and she's starting to think it has something to do with her.

She didn't think she would ever be the one to sneak out of someone's bed after hooking up with them, but here she is. She quietly and quickly gathers her clothes before she gets dressed so she can make her escape.

On the way down to the Uber that she ordered once her date fell asleep, she calls Dawson because she needs to tell someone about her night.

The phone rings a few times before he answers the phone.

"Aren't you supposed to be out on a date right now?" he questions as soon as he picks up the phone.

She pushes the door open and is met with cool New Jersey air. It whips through her hair. "Supposed to be are the key words," she tells him. "No, he brought me back to his apartment and attempted to fuck me."

"Attempted?" he asks, confusion evident in his voice. She can only imagine his face. "How did he attempt to fuck you? Because usually he did or he didn’t."

Before she gets into the Uber, she says in a hushed voice, "He couldn't figure out how to put his dick in me, Dawson. That's what I mean when I say he attempted to fuck me. He just went down on me instead and he came just from doing that. And I’m pretty sure I didn’t orgasm.”

He howls with laughter as she gets into the backseat of the Uber. "No way," Dawson laughs. "You're telling me he didn't know where to put it? Oh my God."

"It's embarrassing for me too, Merc," she tells him, face red like she is having this conversation face-to-face with him. "It's not like I knew any better either. Both hookups I’ve had have been the worst experiences of my life and taught me next to nothing about what I’m supposed to do.”

Her best friend is quiet as the Uber starts the drive to her apartment building in Hoboken. She raises her eyebrows, but he starts talking before she can ask if he’s still there.

“Come to my apartment,” he tells her. Dawson sounds a little more serious than he did thirty seconds ago.

“Why?”

“Just … come to my apartment,” he reiterates. “I’ll tell you why when you get here.”

Confused flood her body. “Okay,” she sighs. She tells the Uber driver Dawson’s address before she turns her attention back to the conversation. “You’re being very suspicious right now and I’m not sure I like it.”

“You love me anyway,” he laughs. “See you soon.”

Then the line beeps dead and she pulls the phone away from her ear. She blinks at the dark device and questions why he suddenly told her to come over. It’s almost one in the morning and she’s pretty sure he has morning skate at ten, yet he told her to come over.

If he wants to make her feel better, he could’ve waited until it wasn’t the middle of the night. They could’ve gone to lunch tomorrow when he got done practice and before he took his pre-game nap. Dawson didn’t have to tell her to come over.

The drive to Dawson’s place takes ten minutes longer than the drive to her apartment would’ve taken. It’s close to 1:30 in the morning when the Uber pulls up out front of his apartment building. She thanks the driver and heads up to Dawson's fourth floor apartment.

Three knocks later and she's face-to-face with Dawson in his pajama pants and Devils t-shirt. He looks her up and down where she stands in her little black dress and heels. The dress isn't too revealing but it shows off her curves with the way it hugs her body.

She walks past him without a word. Her cheeks threaten to turn red as she turns back to face him. Dawson shuts the door and she asks, "Is there a reason I'm in your apartment in the middle of the night?"

"You said your hookup experiences weren't the best," Dawson slowly says, hesitating a bit.

"Did you seriously ask me to come over so you could make fun of me because of my lack of experience?" she asks, annoyance evident in her voice. "Because not all of us can be a professional hockey-"

"I might be your best friend, but I wouldn't make fun of you for that," he interrupts. "God. Who do you think I am? I make fun of you for a lot of things but not because of your lack of experience."

Her body begins to relax because she really thought he was going to make fun of her. "Then why did you ask me to come over if it wasn't to make fun of me?" she tries again.

There's a moment of hesitation like Dawson's unsure of what to say next. She raises her eyebrows in confusion until he speaks.

She's very surprised at the words that leave his mouth.

"Let me show you how sex is supposed to feel," he tells her. "I'm your best friend. I hope that means you trust me enough to let me show you how good sex is supposed to be."

As soon as the words pass his lips, she's taken aback.

They've been best friends since they met their freshman year of high school and she never fathomed hooking up with him. She would be lying if she had she never thought about it though, because she has a few times. He's attractive, an insanely good hockey player, and has the best sense of humor. She knows that; she just never thought he'd want to hook up with her.

"You would do that?" she questions. "For me?"

Dawson nods and takes a step toward her. "I'd do anything for you," he replies. "Including this, if you want. So you're not embarrassed and know what you're doing next time someone takes you home after a date."

Slowly, he crosses the living room until he's standing in front of her. She looks up at him and sharply inhales when their eyes meet for a second.

"I, um ..." she trails off. "Yeah."

A small smile forms on Dawson's lips. "Yeah?" he asks. "Is that a yes?"

She nods and reaches out to touch him. She hesitates, gnawing on her bottom lip. "It's a yes," she tells him. "Before we do though, just promise me that it won't change anything. You'll still be my best friend and you'll still make fun of me for stupid things and I'll still get to make fun of you every time you fall on the ice."

The grin on Dawson's face grows. "Nothing will ever change," he tells her. "You'll still be able to make fun of me every time I fall on the ice. As a matter of fact, please keep making fun of me when I fall on the ice because it's one of my favorite things when you do."

A smile forms on her face as she looks up at her best friend. "Then okay," she sighs. "Show me how sex is supposed to feel."

With her permission and consent, he leans down and captures her lips in a long, deep kiss. Her heart races in her chest the longer their lips touch. She reciprocates it, matching the slow pace he instigated the kiss with. His forehead rests on her as the kiss deepens slightly.

Dawson brings his hand up and cups her jaw, holding her close. She rests her hands on his waist, grabbing his shirt lightly and pulling at the thin fabric so he doesn't get too far. His free hand mirrors the other one. She hums at the feeling because she's never been kissed like this.

While she lacks experience in bed, she's had her fair share of kisses in her life. Teenage relationships in high school, a little experimentation during her college years, and a handful of dates since she moved to Jersey to be close to Dawson.

In all those years though, she's never been kissed the way her best friend is kissing her now. The way he's holding her, deeply kissing her. She's not sure she'll want to kiss anyone else but Dawson after this.

He moves his hands down to her waist and she slides hers up over his chest until she wraps them around his neck. Dawson's hands rest on her butt and she smiles into the kiss that follows. He kisses her smile before he takes advantage and licks into her mouth. She gasps and hums at the feeling.

Yeah, she may never kiss anyone but Dawson after this.

The kiss turns rushed, heated, and full of tongue. She kicks off the heels she's wearing while Dawson picks her up after he wraps his arms around her waist. She wraps her legs around him and he carries her off to his bedroom down the hallway.

A soft light illuminates the room from the lamp that's lit next to his bed. That's the only light in the room when Dawson crawls on his knees on the mattress before he lies her on her back. She rolls her hips against his and Dawson pulls back.

"Okay," he breathes out with a smile on his face. "You're rushing. Don't rush. You're chasing after something you have to build to first so take a second. I have you and I'll make sure you feel good."

She nods and relaxes her entire body under his. She stares up at him and bites her bottom lip. Dawson sits back on his feet and pulls his t-shirt over his head. Her eyes widen at the sight of him without a shirt and his checkered pants hanging low on his waist.

"Oh, fuck me," she breathes out.

"That's the plan," Dawson replies.

He hooks his fingers around the thin straps that sit on her shoulders. He pulls them down off her shoulders very slowly, pulling the fabric down with the straps. When she pulls her arms out, Dawson keeps pulling the dress off.

Her breasts are exposed and she doesn't feel the need to cover her chest up. She lets Dawson keep looking at her the way she can't help but look at him.

She lifts her hips so Dawson can pull off the dress. It hits the floor with a soft thud. Her fingers splay across his torso and run up his chest. Dawson wraps his hands around her wrists and pulls her so she's sitting up, chest against his.

Dawson lifts her head up with a curled pointer finger. "I've always thought you were pretty," he softly tells her while his eyes study her face. Her face turns red. "But holy shit. You are so beautiful. I'm going to make sure you feel so good, my pretty girl."

His words shoot straight to her core. "Merc," she sighs. "You can't just say those things."

"I can," he replies while he runs a finger between her breasts. "And I will because in this moment, I'm allowed to." His fingers trails down her stomach until it reaches the waistband of her ruined panties. "So get used to it."

She shivers at his words and allows him to pull off the thin fabric. She is completely bare in front of him, and he looks at her like she's the only thing in the entire world.

It might be because they're sharing this intimate moment, but she can't help but think maybe he feels something for her. She's had a couple of moments where she thought maybe they could be more than friends, but she didn't think he shared those sentiments so she never said anything. She's never initiated anything, but he suggested they do this tonight so she can't help but wonder if he feels something for her.

Dawson lies down on his stomach with his face between her legs. He licks his bottom lip and mumbles, "So wet, pretty girl. All for me?"

Pretty girl rings throughout her head and leaves her tongue-tied. All she can do is nod in response to his question. Dawson grins and kisses her thigh. Her body shudders in response. He trails kisses from her thigh to her core. He licks a slow stripe over her core and she lets out a soft hum as her hands find a home in his hair.

"God, Dawson," she gasps. His lips wrap around her clit and he hums, sending shocks throughout her entire body.

In the two hookups she's had before this one, it's never felt like this. Her body has never reacted like this before. An unfamiliar knot has already formed in the pit of her stomach, and Dawson has only used his tongue on her. He hasn't touched her, but it already feels so good.

His tongue runs through her soaked folds. Soft hums pass his lips every so often, and each time she gasps.

"So good for me," Dawson tells her. "So patient for me. You taste so good, baby."

Before she can even react to his words, he slips his tongue inside of her. A borderline pornographic moan passes her lips while her fingers curl in his locks. She throws her head back in pleasure as Dawson licks her closer to her inevitable orgasm.

He shifts his position on the bed so he’s more on his knees than his stomach. His hands rest on her belly for a second before they slide up to cup her breasts. She hums and rests her own hands on his.

“Merc,” she sighs. “I think I’m close. Please.”

If her shaking legs and knot in her stomach are any kind of indication then she’s close. Closer than she probably thinks she is.

Dawson pulls back and she whines at the loss of contact. He stands up next to the bed and completely undresses himself. She basically starts salivating at the sight of his cock springing free of it’s checkered confines. She gnaws on her bottom lip and can’t wait to get her mouth on his dick.

Tonight is not that night though. Dawson probably won’t let it happen because he’s so bent on making her feel good.

He reached into his bedside table drawer and pulls out a small silver package. She presses her lips into a tight line when she realizes that is going to be inside her.

Dawson crawls back onto the bed between her legs. He rips open the package with his teeth and slides its contents onto his dick. He lines his tip up with her entrance and she lets out a sigh.

“I’ve got you,” he promises. “You’re doing so well for me.”

His praise is one thing she never expected to turn her on. The more he praises her, the closer her orgasm gets. It’s new, but she likes hearing Dawson talk to her like that.

She lets her legs fall to the side and Dawson hovers over her. She pulls him down for a deep kiss. He pushes into her.

There a pinch of pain when he stretches her out before it turns into pleasure the further into her he pushes. She hums as he buries himself into her. “So big, Merc,” she tells him between kisses. “Might ruin me for anyone else.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” he replies. She smiles into the kiss that follows.

He allows her to adjust to his size for a second before he starts rolling his hips. She gasps as he feels his cock inside of her. Again, there’s slight pain for a second before it turns into pleasure.

The room is quickly filled with the creak of the bed and soft sounds that rise from her throat. She wraps her legs around his waist and he changes his angle to move even deeper into her.

“Fuck, Dawson!” she gasps. “Fucking me so good. God.”

Dawson smiles and quickens his pace.

She throws her head back and his lips leave hers to attach to her jaw. She wraps her arms around his neck to keep him close. One of his hands rests on her waist while he moves.

“So tight for me, pretty girl,” Dawson tells her. "Perfect little pussy. All for me."

"All for you, Merc," she pants. Her legs begin to shake as she does everything she can to keep herself from coming before she wants to.

Dawson slows his pace but continues to move deeply into her. He hits a sweet spot and she cries out his name.

"Come for me, pretty girl," Dawson pants. "Make a mess on my cock."

With his words, the knot in her stomach comes undone and a wave of pleasure overcomes her. She completely blacks out. Her vision whitens and Dawson's name falls from her lips. Dawson fucks her though what's probably the first proper orgasm she's ever had.

She's so out of it that she doesn't feel Dawson come into the condom he's wearing, pull out of her to dispose of it, go into the bathroom and come back out to clean them both up.

That experience was so much better than the last two. The first time she had sex in college was messy and painful. The second time was that night before she went to Dawson's. Third time really was the charm because she's never felt that good when having sex.

That's the Dawson Mercer experience.

Eventually, she finds the strength to move and Dawson laughs. "You okay?" he asks. "I lost you for a second there."

"You are ..." she trails off. "That was-- Dawson. Holy shit. No wonder women keep wanting to fuck you."

He grins, proud of himself. "I guess that means it was a much better experience than you've already had?" he asks.

"Much," she laughs. "I don't think I'll find anything better than that."

"Well, you're welcome to come back whenever you want," he tells her. "Honestly. It felt really good for me too so I wouldn't say no if you ever wanted to run it back."

"Yeah?"

Dawson hums as she curls up around him. She looks up at him and tries hard not to stare at his swollen lips, unsure if she can kiss him at this point.

Their moment is over, but she suspects that it won't be the only moment they share in the coming weeks or months. Maybe their whole relationship will change after tonight. Who knows?

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MAIN HOCKEY

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[fluentmoviequoter]

Stood Too Close to a Devil

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!UC!reader

Summary: While investigating a human trafficking ring, you get in too deep. You're abducted and meet a group of women you can't leave behind. After months of fighting, you find your way home to the one safety they couldn't take from you.

Warnings: recommended 16+, human trafficking, child abduction and trafficking, allusions to SA, physical/emotional abuse, imprisonment, r is harmed numerous times, drugging, discussion of scars, depiction of corrupt politicians, comfort and early healing at the end

Word Count: 7.3k+ words

A/N: I used one of @nevereclipse 's fantastic ideas for this! The length clearly got away from me, but I love the idea of Tim being home and providing safety for someone that really needs it. Hopefully this is along of the lines of the original post and please feel free to let me know what you think!🫶🏼

You walk up the metal stairs of the cheap motel, feeling your shirt rise up on your waist with each step. The bag in your hands prevents you from pulling the worn fabric down, but it’s okay. Anything that draws attention is appreciated right now. You knock on the door with one hip pushed out to hold the bag.

“Hey, handsome,” you greet when the door opens. “I got everything you asked for.”

Stepping into the room, you set the overfilled bag on the bed and wait for the door to close. Your shoulders droop as you exhale heavily and pull your shirt down to your hips. “Twenty.”

Nyla’s eyes widen as she repeats, “Twenty? Two-zero?”

Nodding, you push your forefinger and your thumb against your eyebrows. “I know. This is way bigger than I thought.”

“It’s bigger than any of us thought,” the chief of Major Crimes agrees. “How’s your cover?”

Tim interrupts your answer and asks, “How are you?”

Licking your lips, you consider lying. “It’s rough,” you admit. “But I can do it. My cover is intact, no one suspects anything, and I’ve gotten more attention the last three nights.”

“What kind of attention?” Nyla inquires.

“Rich has been watching me while I’m working, and the guy at the front desk of the motel asks me about work every day.”

“They’re prying,” Major Crimes Chief Rodriguez says. “Trying to decide if you’re in a position to be asked.”

“Am I?”

“Not yet,” Nyla answers. “People with steady jobs and the income to stay in a long-term motel aren’t usually desperate enough to traffic.”

“Which we aren’t doing,” Tim reminds you. “We need proof, not for you to get sucked in.”

You nod, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Doesn’t make it easier to watch the twenty women they do choose get trafficked.”

“We’re doing everything we can to recover them,” Rodriguez promises. “Keep your eyes open, head down, get information, and we’ll go from there.”

“Rich got violent last night,” you tell them. “I didn’t see the knife but I heard he had one. Got up in a girl’s face because she asked if he was paying.”

“For?” Nyla asks.

“A dance.”

Tim crosses his arms tightly against his chest. He’d been against the idea of your cover job being in a sleazy bar, but there was no better option. You’re close enough to see what you need to see, yet separated just enough to not be easily pulled into it.

“Any idea when they’re planning to act next?” Rodriguez asks as he jots notes on a small black pad.

“I heard someone say something about ‘payday Friday,’ but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re pulling someone new in,” you reply.

“And it’s still too early for a hotel sting,” Tim complains.

“I’ll ask around with some of the girls, see what I can find out,” you offer. “Anything else?”

“Do you think you could get someone to take you to ‘payday Friday’?” Nyla asks. “I know it’s dangerous, but it they trust you enough, it could help.”

You nod and agree to try, though you know Tim is concerned about it. Tim wraps his hand around your arm as you pick up the emptied bag and prepare to leave. His touch is gentle and warm, and you wish you could melt into it and leave this undercover operation in the past. But you need to infiltrate this organization before they traffic even more innocent women.

“Be careful,” Tim urges you quietly. “This is way bigger than anyone knew, so if you need to get out, pull the ripcord.”

“I will,” you assure. “Thank you. You’ll be close?”

“Always.”

You leave the motel room with the promise that Tim is with you, and though it doesn’t make what you’re about to see any better, it makes your practiced confidence come a bit easier.

The black SUV waiting one block away is probably your backup. Tim’s metro team can’t be far, but as you walk deeper into an alley, following three armed men and their dates, your chest tightens. One of these women may be the target, or they could be compliant witnesses to the cruelty these men get pleasure and monetary gain from daily.

“You’ve met, right?” Rich, a regular at your cover job, asks as he gestures between you and his date.

“I don’t think so,” you answer with a smile. “I’m Jewel.”

“Do you speak Spanish, Jewel?” Rich inquires.

“A little bit.”

“Renata here doesn’t speak any English, but she’s very nice.”

You smile and introduce yourself in Spanish.

“No conozco a estos hombres,” Renata says. Her voice is strained, but her smile remains as she confides in you that she doesn’t know these men.

“What’d she say?” Rich's best friend Kol demands.

With an airy laugh, you answer, “She said she doesn’t know where to meet friends here.” Turning to her, you promise, “Te ayudaré. I told her I’d help her.”

Rich and Kol look at one another, then smile.

“I’m sure she’ll really appreciate your help,” Kol says.

His date snickers as she takes the other woman’s hand. So, they do know, you realize. And I just promised to help a woman who’s probably going to be trafficked while I stand here and watch.

“Hey, is Jewel your real name or just, you know, something you go by?” Rich wonders.

“It’s my real name,” you say, staying close to Renata.

“Sounds like a stripper,” one of the women whispers.

“Do you mind if I ask Renata for her phone number? I’d like to introduce her to some of my friends if she’s free sometime.”

Rich nods before he turns to converse privately with Kol and their dates. You raise your phone and text ‘Landlord,’ who is Tim, that something is about to go down and a woman is in immediate danger. You delete the text from your phone after it says it was delivered.

“¿Tienes un número de teléfono?” you ask Renata.

“Me dijo que la diera a la gente siete números. Me dará un teléfono antes de ayudarme a contactar a mi familia en Venezuela,” she answers quickly.

That’s not good. Rich told her to give seven random numbers and promised to get her a phone after she starts working for him to support her family in Venezuela. You know, like most cops, that if a trafficker thinks someone is willing to work to help their family in another country, they are prime targets.

Given that Rich and Kol are proven traffickers – in addition to committing other crimes – you know that you have to get Renata out of here before it is too late. She’s clearly scared, and if they catch onto her fear or realize that you’re not talking to her about meeting friends, this will go bad quickly. Tim hasn’t answered, and no police have descended on the alley, so you have to think fast. A truck approaches from the southern end of the alley, less than a quarter mile from the freeway. The men are still talking, and you take a deep breath.

“Huir,” you demand under your breath. Run away.

Renata looks at you, then takes off. Kol moves to chase her, but you step out to block his path. You’re too deep, and it will be too late to get out if Tim doesn’t bring Metro in now. But you had to help Renata. Her blood would have been on your hands if you hadn’t. Now, you’re risking your life to let her run to safety.

Rich steps forward and smiles as Kol asks what to do.

“Way I see it?” Rich answers. “We came down here to get another girl. I’m looking at one.”

“I’m not going with you,” you say, stepping back.

Kol pulls a gun from his waistband and replies, “Yeah, you are.”

You prepare to run, hoping that Tim will come around the corner. You’re still undercover, you remind yourself, and whatever happens now could save another life. Your arms are pulled tightly behind you, and you’re pushed into the back of a large white truck.

After the door closes and the truck lurches into motion, someone lights a match, and you see three women huddled in the corner, shaking and scared.

“¿Hablas ingles?” you ask.

“Yes,” one of them answers.

“I’m a police officer, okay? I’m going to do everything I can to help you and get you out of here. Are you hurt?”

“Ilsa is,” the woman with the match says. “They hit her with a metal belt.”

You move deeper into the truck and introduce yourself.

“I’m Maria, and this is my cousin Becca.”

You glance at Becca as you lift the back of Ilsa’s shirt. “How old is Becca?” you whisper.

“Fifteen, she just had her quinceañera," Maria answers.

Exhaling sharply, you examine the swollen red strip spanning Ilsa’s back. As you pull a miniature first aid kit from inside your boot, you say, “We’re going to have to work together, especially to keep Becca safe.”

“Of course,” Maria answers.

“They’re monsters,” Ilsa says. You notice immediately that her accent sounds Russian. “I’ll do anything I can to protect her. She’s only a child.”

“You’ve done more than enough.”

Looking away from Ilsa’s back, you face Maria, who says, “The man with the belt was trying to keep Becca from crying.”

“Least I could do,” Ilsa murmurs before hissing in pain when you swipe an antibiotic wipe across her wound.

“It’s more than that,” you say. “I won’t lie, I’m not supposed to be here, so this is going to get worse before it gets better. Do either of you have any idea where we’re going?”

“Tijuana,” they answer together.

Your eyes widen at the information that they’re moving you across state lines, country borders, and right out of your jurisdiction. The tracker sewn into the seam of your underwear only works for a few miles, so you’re completely disconnected from your station and the people who could help. Worse, you realize as you fall back, is that you have been trafficked. You’re no longer an investigator. You’re a victim.

As the truck shakes while you head south, you remove the jacket tied around your waist and hold it to your chest as you think. It still smells like Tim’s cologne, and you breathe it in as if it will disappear at any moment. Racking your brain for an idea of what to do, you try to think like Tim and Nyla. Every thought you have of trying to stop these men ends with you dead and the women beside you living in fear in a place where they’ll likely never be found.

“Do you need anything?” you ask them.

They shake their heads, and Ilsa’s chin drops as if she’s asleep.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Maria whispers. “You’re the angel we prayed for.”

She closes her eyes as the match burns out, and you tip your head back to look at the dark ceiling above you. I’m not an angel. I just stood too close to the devil.

The truck door rolls open loudly before a blindingly bright light greets you.

“Bienvenidos a Mexico,” Rich greets. “Send the little one, we’ve got someone here who wants to meet our newest helper.”

“Take me instead,” you reply, moving toward your abductors. “I’m new, too.”

“Not exactly what I meant.”

You jump from the truck and move to stand mere inches from Rich. “You just shoved that girl in the back of a truck and drove her to another country, you’re going to have to take it easier with her. She doesn’t know what you’ve done yet.”

“She’ll have to learn,” he seethes. “And we don’t have much time for teaching.”

Leveling your gaze on his, you wait for him to give. Kol mumbles something behind him, and Rich says, “Okay. Let’s go.”

Hours later, your face feels tight from all the dried tears on it when you are shoved into a damp room lined with cots. Ilsa recites a story to Becca while Maria braids her hair, but they look up at you when the door slams and locks.

“Have you seen any other women?” you ask.

“Two more. They came in for a few minutes, then the ugly man came and took them back out,” Ilsa answers.

“They didn’t speak,” Maria adds quietly. “Do you think their spirits are gone?”

You tug the roots of your hair and answer, “For their sakes, I’m beginning to hope so.”

“Are you okay?” Becca whispers.

It’s the first time she’s spoken to you, the first you’ve heard of her voice, and you smile at her. “I’m okay, and you’re going to be okay, too.”

“What is this place?”

“It’s a bad place, and they’re going to try to let bad people do bad things to us, but I’m not going to let them,” you promise.

“You can’t,” Ilsa argues.

“I took an oath to serve and protect, and that didn’t end at the border. They’re not going to do anything to you as long as I can help it.”

“Did…” Maria begins.

“No,” you answer. “He.. No, I’m okay.”

“Knock, knock,” Kol calls obnoxiously. He sets food on the nearest cot and asks, “How’s the little princess?”

Ilsa says something in Russian as Maria moves to sit in front of Becca.

“What do you want, Kol?” you demand.

“It’s a question,” he snaps. “I want an answer.”

“You want to know how she is? She’d be better if you weren’t around.”

Kol looks over his shoulder, then demands, “Come with me.”

“No.”

“Come. With. Me. Or I’ll come in there and get you.”

You clench your jaw as you stand and follow him. The moment the soundproof door is closed, he shoves you against the concrete wall and presses his weight against your back.

“I don’t like people that talk back to me,” he seethes in your ear.

“And I don’t like people who traffic humans,” you argue, pushing back against him.

Kol raises one hand to your head, pulling it back enough to slam your nose into the wall. You can feel it break, but you’re out of tears, and he doesn’t deserve them anyway.

“Beat me, sell me all day everyday, do whatever you want, but I’m not letting you put one more finger on that little girl,” you say though the blood running over your lips.

“Sounds like a challenge!” Rich exclaims. He comes to your side and adds, “I love challenges.”

“Who are you working for?” you ask. “You two morons are barely smart enough to drive, so there’s no way you’re the masterminds.”

“What does it matter to you?”

“When someone smarter than you comes along and gets free, I want to make sure she knows who the police should be looking for.”

“They’ll never find the Vaquero.”

“Doubtful you could find him either,” you reply, attempting to kick free of Kol.

He slams his foot against the back of your ankle, and you buckle forward at the pain.

“You want to work more? I’ll get right on it,” he says before pushing you back into your prison.

In a heap on the floor, you barely manage to tell Maria to back away from you before you puke. Sitting up, you see that Becca is asleep. Ilsa watches you lean against the concrete wall, and you point to the bucket of clothes beside her. There isn’t much in it, but a bra at the bottom catches your attention. It’s wireless, of course, because these people are smart enough to avoid giving scared women anything that could be used as a weapon. You fold it so the cups are together, making it thicker, then place it between your teeth. It holds your tongue down and catches your scream as you use the sides of your palms to straighten your broken nose.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Maria chides as she looks for something to stop your bleeding.

“Hand me the jacket?” you ask.

She passes you Tim’s jacket, and you watch a tear fall onto it before you hold it against your face. “I’m sorry,” you whisper into it.

“Will he come for you?” Ilsa inquires, walking toward you.

“I don’t think I left him enough clues,” you admit, though it’s muffled.

“You’re smart, I’m sure you did.”

Looking at Maria, you say, “If I get killed, don’t let it be for nothing.”

“We’ll protect each other,” she counters.

“No matter what,” Ilsa adds.

The following day, no one enters the room. There’s water in the corner and Becca snacks on the food from the night before, but nothing changes. Tim’s jacket still holds the scent of his cologne on the end of the sleeves, and you keep it beside you as you attempt to rest. It dries your tears and holds your blood, but it’s nothing like being near Tim. It’s a reminder that you can get home, and that’s all you need it to be.

“There’s a first aid kit,” Becca says, standing from the corner. “It looks new.”

You extend your hands, and she places the metal box in your hold. Opening it, you sigh at the sight.

“It is new,” you announce. “Ilsa, let me see your back again?”

She lifts her shirt, and you begin treating the stripe. “It looks better. Hopefully this will help more.”

“I can’t feel it,” she says.

“That’s not good,” you reply immediately.

“I should say, I choose not to. We have more important things.”

“Your health is important.”

“And yours isn’t?”

After a month of preventing Ilsa, Maria, and Becca from being removed from the room, you are exhausted. Rich has taken pleasure in coming to retrieve you every time, and when he opens the door for the eighth time in five days, you stumble as you stand.

“If you’re too tired,” he taunts.

“I’m fine,” you answer. “Get out.”

“We have guests coming tomorrow,” he says with a smile. “You’re going to have to get along with me, or they’ll show you a different kind of punishment.”

“It can’t get much worse.”

Rich walks toward you, and you notice a rope in his hand. “Trust me, it can. Now, let’s go.”

“What are you doing?” Ilsa demands.

“Leashing the dog,” he answers darkly. He steps behind you, his breath warm and too close to your skin. “Walk.”

You exit the room and decide not to fight back as he secures your wrists and up to your elbows with the rope. It’s uncomfortable and pulls your shoulders into a dangerous position, but talking too much will only feed his ego and endanger every woman in this bunker.

“Open your mouth,” he says as he walks before you. “Now.”

After you lick your lips, he pries your mouth open and pours something inside. He taps your neck, forcing you to swallow, and you feel your muscles weaken as he leads you toward the exit. You urge yourself to remember the route to reach the door where the sunlight shines beneath it, but each step is heavier than the last and requires concentration.

Rich uses your restraints to pull you to a stop. You tip back and can’t catch yourself with your hands, so you fall to your butt and groan. To stay upright, you cross your legs and wait.

“I said I wanted someone who could look the part of a cop,” someone with a familiar voice complains. “She can barely stand.”

“When the drug wears off, she’ll be fine,” Rich explains. “Did you bring it?”

“You induced myopathy to walk her to the door? What is she, a fighter?”

“She’s an annoyance. Remind her that we’re here alone with her friends. She’ll do whatever you want.”

You can hear the man's smile as he repeats, “Whatever I want.”

However, he doesn’t have to remind you of anything because you do what he asks. There’s a feeling in the air like something big is happening, and you want to be out of your cell for it. You can only hope that Ilsa, Becca, and Maria are safe while you’re gone, but believing they are makes it even more important to obey and keep them safe.

“Put this on,” the man – tall, older, and clearly not Mexican – demands as he tosses a small costume package to you.

You catch it, fully recovered from the drug’s effects, and look at the skimpy black fabric within. As you remove it from the package, you realize who the man is and why he sounded familiar in the bunker. Councilman Brek has been demanding in every interview he’s done, and it’s been rumored he has the city and government employees in Los Angeles in his wallet to stay in office so long.

“You’re Vaquero?” you guess.

“Maybe I am, which means you do precisely what I say. I don’t trust you, so you’re going to have to change here and now,” he instructs slowly.

Nodding, you begin to change as quickly as possible. The so-called police uniform is little more than a too-small vest and a tube-style skirt with a light badge hanging from it.

“Perfect,” the man applauds, blatantly looking at your body rather than your face. “Let me introduce you to the girls. Ladies!”

You follow him into another room where seven women are dressed in similar outfits, in different colors, and bearing agency badges.

“Tonight, you will be known as your badges. So, we’ve got DEA, NSA, CIA, FBI, LAPD, NYPD, ICE, and CSI, how needs some glasses.”

You look at each woman as he speaks and wonder where they’re from. You can't guess if they’re working for him legitimately or if they’re all like you. For all anyone knows, they could be undercover, too, though the pleased smile on CSI’s face after she receives glasses makes you think otherwise.

“Finish your shift without incident and we’ll talk. Anything happens, tell my assistant Mark and he’ll handle it. The rules are simple: You work, they pay. If someone tries to do anything without paying, Mark is your first contact. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” you reply with the other women.

The clock on the wall says four a.m. when you consider calling for Brek's assistant Mark, but remember Rodriguez’s advice: keep your head down. If you can get through tonight without causing any problems, maybe Rich and Kol will trust you enough to give you more freedom. It’s unlikely, but lives are at stake, including your own.

“Come to papa, LAPD!”

You turn and smile at the short Latino man beckoning you closer. Extending your hand, you wait for him to pay you with one hand on your hip.

“I said come here,” he repeats.

Rubbing your fingers together, you remind him, “I’m supposed to receive payment first.”

He twists his head to crack his neck and then extends his arms. His hands grip your barely covered hips before he pulls you into his lap.

“Let go,” you demand under your breath, looking around for Mark and wishing it was Tim coming to help you.

If you were undercover in LA, Tim would have already had this guy off of you, and tears prick your eyes when you remember how long it has been since you saw him and worked with him.

“Stop fighting,” the man says.

His demand is punctuated by the telltale sound of a switchblade. NYPD slows as she walks behind you, and when the man shifts his hand to squeeze your thigh instead, she screams Mark’s name.

Before he reaches you, you press your hands against the man’s shoulders and shove yourself away from him. You realize then that the knife was closer than you thought. Mark hauls the man out of his chair and disappears. NYPD and DEA escort you back to the room where you got dressed and encourage you to sit.

“Is this yours?” DEA asks, raising Tim’s jacket.

“Yeah,” you answer.

She presses it against your bleeding inner thigh, and you dig your fingers into the chair beneath you.

“This needs stitches,” NYPD says. She looks around before whispering, “Are you working here?”

You shake your head in a small motion, and she chews her bottom lip.

“We have a sewing kit,” DEA whispers. “But I don’t know if that would work.”

“I do,” you interject. “Bring it to me?”

She hesitates but does as you ask. NYPD threads the needle after DEA sterilizes it over a nearby burning candle. You remove Tim’s jacket and put the end of the sleeve in your mouth to bite down on. Each stitch burns worse than the last, and your fight to stay conscious makes your hands shake.

NYPD takes the needle, tugs the jacket sleeve free, and says, “Breathe, LAPD.”

You mumble your name, and she smiles as she says, “I’m Jessica. I’ve been watching, so I can try to finish them if you want.”

“Please.”

“You’ll scar her!” DEA argues.

“It’s going to scar no matter what,” you say. “I’m not that good. Please just help me.”

NYPD nods as you let your eyes close momentarily.

Tim could have kept it from scarring you think just before Mark enters the room to escort you back to work.

Kol doesn’t see the wound when he arrives to take you back to the bunker. Not that you think he’d care, but you covered it just in case he’d make you stop taking the “jobs” intended for Becca, Maria, and Ilsa.

Lowering carefully onto your cot, you let the pain in again and acknowledge it with a groan.

“What happened?” Ilsa asks, rushing to your side.

“I need the first aid kit, please.”

Maria turns away to distract Becca when she sees your patched-together stitches, but Ilsa kneels beside you to help.

“It’s gonna be a long night,” she murmurs.

“It’s been a long month,” you correct her.

She chuckles wetly, and you smile as she wraps bandages around your thigh. The bloody jacket is clutched to your chest, and you once again wish that it was Tim holding you, and not you desperately gripping the idea of him.

“It’s been months without a word, Tim,” Nyla says. “Rodriguez has other cases, but that doesn’t mean he’s giving up on her.”

“He closed the case!” Tim yells. “It has been weeks since he looked at anything related to the traffickers, and suddenly it’s time? She’s still out there, Nyla!”

“I understand, Bradford, I do, but until we can pick up their trail again, there is nothing we can do.”

“So, you expect me to just go back to work while one of our own is being trafficked?”

“I expect you to do what you need to do to make Rodriguez think you’re not undermining him,” Nyla says quietly. “I’ve been looking too. We’re not going to let her disappear.”

“And if she’s already gone?”

“We find the people who took her and make them pay with everything they have left.”

“Everybody pack up and drink up,” Rich demands as he kicks the door open.

“Drink what?” Maria asks, leaning up to look at the clear glasses on his tray.

“You’re going home.”

“What?” you, Ilsa, and Maria exclaim together.

“The Vaquero bailed you out. The drink is a celebration.”

“We’re going home?” Becca asks Maria, gripping her hand tightly.

“Three of you.” Rich looks at you, and you nod. Their freedom is your hush money, and it will work... for now. You'll stay quiet about Councilman Brek being Vaquero if it gets these women home.

“No,” Ilsa says. “I’m not drinking that if she’s not going with us.”

“Yes, you are,” you tell her. “You’re going home because that was always the goal.”

“What about the other women?!” she exclaims.

“I’ll work to free them next.”

“You’d die before you did that,” Rich says. “It took you over five months to free these three. You think we don’t have replacements for them already on the way?”

“You got what you wanted, Rich,” you say. “Ladies, pack and drink. I’ll cheers with you.”

You wrap Tim’s jacket around your waist, tap your glass against theirs, drink, set the glass down, and fall into darkness.

“Where are the tracking records?” Angela asks.

“From the underwear tracker?” Nyla clarifies as she leans over Tim’s table.

“That’s where her tracker was?” Tim asks, furrowing his brows.

“I guess Rodriguez didn’t put them in the file,” Nyla says, frowning. “Or they’re digital and he couldn’t figure out control-P. Let me check.”

Tim looks at surveillance pictures of you as Nyla clicks through the laptop before her.

“Printer is full if you need to use it,” he murmurs.

“Thanks.”

Angela stands to retrieve the papers as Nyla lifts your undercover phone from the charger.

“Tim,” Angela calls, looking at the top page. “Did you get a text from her the day she was abducted?”

“No,” he answers, raising his head.

“She deleted it, but the metadata is still there.”

Nyla extends her hand and reads the information on the page before looking up at Tim. “It says it delivered.”

Tim takes his phone from his pocket and checks, but there are no messages from you. Angela checks the other undercover phone, but there are no messages there either.

“Where did it deliver, then?” Nyla wonders. “It says she sent it to ‘Landlord.’”

“Landlord?” Tim asks. “On the last day she was here?”

“Right.”

“Rodriguez changed our covers the morning before. He told me he let her know. Landlord texts went to Rodriguez.”

Nyla purses her lips before she asks, “Which city council member endorsed Rodriguez for chief?”

“Brek,” Angela answers. “It fueled the pay-off rumors.”

“There’s something else going on here,” Nyla says. “And Rodriguez knows about it.”

“I’ll call-“ Tim begins.

“We don’t know who we can trust,” Angela interrupts.

“Wade,” he finishes. He pauses and looks up rather than making the call.

“Call him,” Angela and Nyla say together.

You blink your eyes open, realize you don't recognize the room around you, and sit up quickly.

“I gave you a very thorough description,” Councilman Brek complains. “She looks nothing like what I asked for. If I’m paying for you to bring them up to LA, I expect to get what I pay for.”

“Sir, we don’t have anyone fitting that description,” Rich explains. “And you liked her before.”

“But this isn’t before, is it? She's cost me enough money without this screw up.”

“Excuse me?” you interrupt. “I- I’m from LA, and I know a lot of women willing to do anything for money. Maybe I can help you get what you want.”

You bite your tongue after you speak to keep your stomach from flipping. You’re offering to traffic someone else, and even though it’s a cover to get these men in custody, it still feels wrong.

“I’m not sure I feel comfortable divulging that information to you,” Councilman Brek replies.

“Who is she gonna tell?” Kol points out. "She's been quiet about everything else."

Brek sighs, then says, “I want a dark woman with natural hair, shorter than me, relatively small, and mouthy.”

You manage to keep your eyes from widening at his precise desire and somewhat racist description. “Yeah, I know someone like that.”

“You do?” Brek and Kol ask together.

“I only know her first name,” you reply. “It’s Crystal. I know where she lives, like geographically, not the address.”

“I want Crystal,” Brek decides, turning toward Rich. “Take LAPD here to fetch Crystal and bring them both back.”

“Yes, sir,” Rich and Kol answer together.

You walk out to the car with them and slide into the passenger seat. They brought your clothes with you during the overnight transport back to LA. Now, Tim’s jacket hangs off one shoulder as you give Rich directions to an undercover residence. He parks, and you’re surprised when he and Kol unbuckle their seatbelts. Your hand moves to release yours, and Rich backhands you. His ring draws blood on your cheek.

“You didn’t really think I’d let you waltz up there, did you?” Rich asks.

“Just surprised you wear seatbelts,” you answer meekly.

He locks the doors behind him, trapping you in the car, and you watch as they walk to the door you pointed out and ask for Crystal. A nearby Metro team that was likely on standby ambushes them nearly immediately after hearing Detective Harper's previous undercover name. Without time to react, they’re cuffed and placed in patrol cars before they even realize what’s happening.

When more officers arrive to keep up appearances, you know you must get out of here. With Tim’s jacket protecting your skin, you break the passenger side window, climb out, and run through the night.

When you finally reach the door you’ve dreamed of walking through for nearly half a year, it is dark, and the city is as asleep as it gets. You haven’t had a home in too long, and thinking of going to the station to answer questions about every little thing you saw and did makes you nauseous. So, you linger outside the one place you can think to go. Raising your hand, you grip your stained jacket sleeve in your fist and knock.

The door opens harshly as if the person is grumpy from being woken or unimpressed by such a late visit. You forget to breathe when you see the man at the door and the first breath you force yourself to take causes a tear to roll over your cheek. Tim steps toward you, his shoulders dropping as his eyes widen and his gaze softens. He sees the blood on your cheek but doesn’t try to touch you.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” you admit quietly.

Tim nods and pushes the door open wider for you. With the sleeves of his old jacket grasped between your hands, you step into his home and wait.

“I… What do you need?” he asks.

You look down, unsure about where to start answering that question. “A shower would be nice,” you reply.

Tim leads you through his house and into his bedroom. He tells you where all of his clothes are, where the fresh towels are under the sink, and invites you to use whatever you want.

“I’ll be close, if you need anything,” he says before closing the door behind him. “You can lock the door,” he adds through the wood.

You lay your hand on the doorknob, then let your fingers slip off without locking it. Navigating carefully and quietly through Tim's room, you take a few pieces of his clothing into the bathroom. The warm shower feels good, but you hate that you can’t hear well over the falling water, so you cut your time in the cleansing stream short. Dressed in Tim’s clothes, you walk through his bedroom and open the door. Tim stands from his position on the floor, where he’d been waiting down the hall in case you called for him.

“I’m not going to ask if you’re okay,” he says. “Do you know what you want to do?”

“Can I just…” You trail off and gesture weakly in an around motion.

“Yeah, of course,” Tim answers. “I’ll be on the couch.”

He listens as you pace through his hallway and into his bedroom. You’re not the woman he knew before, and he understands that, but his worry about you and concerns about what you’ve been through threaten to overwhelm him.

Ten minutes later, you enter the living room and sit on the other end of the couch. You pinch Tim’s sweatpants between your fingers and avoid looking at him, but you’ve never been happier to be in his presence, to be sitting beside him.

“I’m here,” Tim says. “I don’t want to push anything on you, but whatever you need, whatever I can do – or not do – to help you, I am here.”

“Thank you,” you say, looking up to see him. “I missed you.”

“You had my jacket.” Tim’s eyes drop momentarily like he’s trying to place what else is different about you.

“I couldn’t look in the mirror,” you confide. “Is my nose crooked? Or crookeder than before?”

Tim hesitates before he answers. Not because your nose is crooked and he’s preparing to lie, but because he’s wondering what happened to your nose and who caused it.

“It looks perfect,” he says. “Like before.”

You place your hand gently over your nose and say, “Kol broke it.”

“I’m sorry,” Tim whispers.

You drop your hand and nod at him. Moving closer, you close some of the distance between you. “I want to feel like me again.”

“You will,” he promises. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

“I might’ve used all that strength.”

“Then you’ll use ours. Everyone around you is ready to help you.”

“Until they find out what I did and have to hear my word against his,” you murmur.

Tim wants to know more about what that means, but your head drops against his shoulder, and suddenly, you are the only thing in the world that matters.

“How’d it go?” Tim asks as you exit the locker room a week later.

“Okay,” you answer carefully. “I don’t think the DA completely believed me about Councilman Brek, but everyone else in the room did. Hopefully Rich and Kol are cowardly enough to take a plea deal and testify against him.”

Someone calls your name as you enter the station’s lobby with Tim.

“Ilsa?!” you exclaim, rushing to hug her. “Are you okay? What are you doing here?”

“My father hired a PI after my return, and the man found more women. We are here to talk to the detective.”

“Which detective?” you inquire, hoping it isn’t Rodriguez.

“That would be me,” Nyla says. “Major crimes was stretched a little thin, and when I saw your name in Ms. Alekseev’s report, Lopez and I jumped on it.”

“Thank you. Ilsa, here’s my number,” you say, handing her a card.

She hugs you again and turns around just before she reaches the door. “Thank you for saving our lives. Maria and Becca went to the embassy when we returned. They’re with their family.”

Nyla mouths safehouse and you nod in understanding.

“You’re brave, Ilsa. Thanks for keeping me safe.”

“I don’t think one bandage makes us even.”

“We’re survivors, that makes us even.”

She waves and follows Nyla into the station as you and Tim exit. He leads you to his truck and opens the passenger door for you, repeating one bandage over and over in his mind. Realistically, he knew you had to have received injuries, but other than the broken nose, he doesn’t know exactly what you went through. Only that Councilman Brek was involved.

“Want me to order dinner?” you ask as Tim backs out of the parking space.

“Whatever you want,” he answers, meaning it in more ways than dinner.

An hour after you wish Tim goodnight and retreat to his extra bedroom, you knock on his partially open door. He invites you in, and you don’t hesitate to enter and tuck one leg under you as you sit on his bed.

“Can we talk?” you ask.

“Of course,” he answers, turning to focus completely on you.

“First, thank you for letting me stay here. I’m working on finding a new place, but I really didn’t want to be alone.” Tim nods, so you continue, “The day they took me, I texted who I thought was you, as you know, but when they put me in the truck, there were three women inside.”

“Ilsa?” Tim guesses.

“Yeah, and she had just been injured. And then Becca and Maria. Becca- She’s 15, Tim. I couldn’t leave them in there, defenseless.”

“Wait,” Tim murmurs, laying his hand over yours. “No one blames you for getting trapped. You were abducted, that’s not something anyone is going to be mad about.”

“I probably could’ve fought and gotten out. I couldn’t leave them.” Tim nods, so you tell him about your first few nights in Mexico, about the bunker and Rich and Kol, and about how you kept Becca as far from everything as possible.

“And Brek bought their freedom to keep me quiet about him being Vaquero,” you finish, leaving out the worst of your experiences. “I think about it a lot, but the worst memories come when I’m trying to sleep.”

“I get it,” Tim assures you. “I’ve got a past that plagues me too. It gets better, and you’re not alone.”

“I feel safe with you,” you admit, dropping your eyes to where Tim’s hand rests on yours. “When I convinced them to let me lead them to Crystal, I was scared I’d never find who I was before.”

“And now?”

“I know I can,” you say. “With you.”

“Can I ask something?” Tim requests. “You can say no, and you don’t have to answer.”

“Of course.”

“There was dried blood on your clothes when you showed up. Was it all yours?”

You nod and unconsciously shift closer to Tim.

“Some of it was from the broken nose. Tim, your jacket kept me alive. It held a lot of blood and tears, but it reminded me of home, of you, and it helped me fight when I thought I had nothing left.”

Tim swallows, and his eyes drop. You follow his gaze, then lay your hands over the jagged scar on your thigh.

“You’re safe,” you repeat. “I can be me again with you. And I can never thank you enough for that.”

Tim slowly raises his hand to your face to catch the escaping tear with his thumb. You lean into his touch, and Tim promises to stay close.

“Brek has some illegal strip club or bar, I don’t know exactly what it is, down there,” you begin. “I was there for a night, dressed – which is a generous term for the uniform – like a cop, and some guy didn’t like the order of how things happened.”

“You’re okay,” Tim promises.

You lean into him, resting against his chest as he shifts his arms to hold you. With your shoulder tucked beneath his, your face on his chest, and your legs pulled over his, Tim holds you like he never wants to let you go. You’re a cop and are far from naïve about the dangers and the evil of the world, but right here, you feel completely safe and more at home than anywhere else. Tim’s finger drags lightly over the scar as he kisses your forehead.

“We’re going to get him, and get all of those women home,” you say. “Nyla told me that you didn’t give up on me, even when Rodriguez tried to sweep everything.”

“Of course not. I knew you’d be fighting even harder to get home.”

After a moment, Tim asks, “Did you get a tetanus shot?”

You laugh. For the first time since returning home, you truly, joyfully laugh. “Yes, I did,” you answer with a smile. “Thank you for seeing me through the scars.”

Tim smiles, gently tracing your cheekbone and jaw, and silently promises to make every single person involved pay for what they did. He'll start with the man who assaulted you with a knife and work down the list.

“Tim,” you say. It draws his attention back to this moment. “Do things have to go back to exactly how they were before?”

Tim looks down your body, then raises his brows. Clearly, your position says no, but you want confirmation from Tim that you’re more than you were before.

“Can I show you?” he asks.

“I’d love that.”

Tim flattens his palm against your cheek and drops his chin to kiss you. It’s slow, and though his hands are on you, it’s different than before. You’re not scared of touch, you realize, leaning into his hands. Tim Bradford is home, he’s safe, and you love him. Despite the scars, the trauma, and the unforgettable horrors you’ve seen and experienced, he loves you too.

“Does that answer your question?” he whispers against your lips.

His hand drops to your leg once more, and when he doesn’t hesitate to brush it over your scar, you smile and say, “Maybe repeat it? Make sure I got everything?”

Smiling, Tim says, “If anything ever feels wrong, or brings up something you don’t like, promise to tell me?”

You offer your pinky to promise, and Tim takes your wrist gently in his hand. The scars circling your wrists and forearms have lightened, but the deep rope burn carved into them will never disappear entirely. After Tim kisses a darker scar, he hooks his pinky in yours.

[vivwritesfics]

She's The Devil

(In Disguise)

She was just a hooker and Fernando was just a man looking for directions. They were never meant to fall in love

3.7K

Warnings: reader is a sex worker, non descript smut, Lawrence stroll is an ass

Fernando Alonso was incredibly lost. All he wanted to do was got to The Crown Plaza Hotel and sleep after a long day on track.

But he was so lost. Looking around and trying to read street signs weren't helping at all.

So, Fernando kept going. He drove until he found a busy street and parked up on it. But, before Fernando opened the car door, a young lady, scantily clad, knocked on his window.

Fernando rolled it down. "Hey, big boy," she said. "You need some help?"

She was pretty, he thought as she leaned against the window. But she was clearly nervous. Something stirred within him.

Fernando nodded his head towards the passenger seat. She walked around to the other side of the car and climbed in. Almost immediately, she reached for his zipper, but Fernando placed her hands back in her lap. "Oh, so, do you want me to touch myself?"

"I want you to tell me where The Crown Plaza Hotel is," he said.

She sat up a little straighter. "This is still going to cost you," she said before she directed him to The Crown Plaza Hotel.

As soon as they reached The Crown Plaza Hotel, Fernando climbed out of the car abd gave his keys to the valet. She did the same and held her hand towards him, expectantly. "Pay up," she said.

Fernando looked towards the hotel. "The money is up in my room," he said and pulled the door to the lobby open for her.

With his hand on the small of her back, Fernando led her through the lobby. He didn't much care for the stairs he got as he walked her into the elevator and pressed the button for the floor he was staying on.

Even in the elevator, she was looking around, eyes full of wonder. "Nobody has ever taken me somewhere this fancy before," she whispered. Elevator music filled the silence between them as the elevator took them up and the doors once again slid open.

Just as he had in the lobby, Fernando had his hand on the small of her back as he led her to his room.

It was, without a doubt, the most impressive Hotel room she had ever been in. "Holy shit," she whispered as she looked around, taking in everything. There was a plush sofa with a television in front of it, a spread of food on the table against the door abd art work hanging all around the room. "Have a seat and something to eat, if you'd like," he said as he threw his jacket over the back of a chair.

She instantly went over to the table and grabbed an apple. Sinking her teeth into it, her too high heels clicked against the floor as she walked over to the sofa and sat down.

It was the comfiest thing she had sat on in weeks.

Fernando took his time to find the cash he had brought with him. Every time he walked past the door of his bedroom, he looked at her, watched as she got herself another apple. She looked so young, no older than twenty-five. She was too young for this life, he decided as he watched her.

Finally, Fernando found the money. He pulled out the desired amount and brought it to her. "This is a really nice room," she said as she turned on the television.

Fernando couldn't help but look at her. He had no doubts she'd go back out onto the streets or back to a cold, one bedroom apartment, and limited food.

He shoved the money back into his pocket. "How much for you to stay with me for the next three days?" He asked.

She raised her eyebrows at him. Three days, that was three days of no other client. She thought on it as she ate her second apple. "Why would you want me here for the next three days?"

Fernando sat on the sofa with her. He tucked himself into the corner of the sofa and she turned towards him. "I'm in an unfamiliar city," he answered. "Maybe I want some company."

She let out a snort. "And you want company from a sex worker? Are you at least going to have sex with me?"

"Not unless you want me to," he answered.

She grinned and began taking off her heels. "£500 a day, and you can get me dinner."

That Fernando was more than okay with. He picked up the phone already in his hotel room and ordered food for the both of them to the room.

While they waited for the food, Fernando let her choose a movie. As much as he wanted to make conversation, he stayed quiet, letting her grow comfortable.

Her feet were tucked beneath her legs as she watched the movie. But then she turned her attention towards Fernando. For a moment she watched him, pulling her legs up to her chest and pressed her cheek her to knee. "How does somebody afford the nicest room at The Crown Plaza and the services of a girl like me for three days?"

Fernando let out an uncomfortable laugh. "I am... a Formula One driver," he answered.

"Shut up," she called, sitting up straighter. "No way!"

"I am!" He insisted.

Grinning, she leaned back on the sofa and stretched her legs out so that they were almost touching him. "I know nothing about Formula One, but aren't you too old?"

Fernando let out a scoff. "I'm not that old," he replied with a polite grin as a knock came from the door. He stood up and opened the door, allowing the food to be brought into the room.

"Dig in," Fernando said as soon as the member of staff was out of the room.

She did just that. She ate until she was fully stuffed, not noticing that Fernando barely touched any of it.

After she had eaten her fill, she laid back on the sofa and continued to watch the movie. But she didn't last very long, not before her eyes were falling shut and a yawn was leaving her lips.

Fernando watched her. "You can take the bed, if you'd like," he said and she stood her head.

Standing, she stretched and grabbed her heels from the floor. "Can you take me home?" She asked somewhat quietly, sitting back down to pull the heels onto her feet.

"You could take the bedroom, the door has a lock," he said.

She looked towards the bedroom. It certainly looked comfier than the mattress on the floor she would be returning to.

She took him up on his offer and slept in the bedroom. The door remained locked through the night, while she slept in nothing but her underwear.

Fernando slept on the sofa. It wasn't entirely terrible, but his neck ached when he woke up.

He ordered breakfast two his room, two plates full of cooked food, a plate stacked high with toast and a collection of cereals.

By the time the food arrived, she was unlocking the door and walking out in his robe. "Good morning," Fernando called as he placed two pieces of buttered toast on the place he hadn't touched.

She sat opposite him and grabbed a glass of orange juice. "Hi," she said, crossing one leg over the other. (Fernando kept his gaze fixed firmly on her face as she did so).

He cleared his throat and slid an envelope towards her. "I want take you out for dinner tonight," he said as he took the envelope and looked inside. "Go and buy yourself some clothes. As many as you'd like."

She was silent as she counted through the bills. "You can't be serious," she said, putting the envelope of money back down. There was at least £300 in there, along with a keycard. "How do you know I won't just run off with it?"

"It's less than half of what you'll be getting paid on Sunday," he answered, pushing his half finished breakfast away. "I'm heading to the track today, I've written my number on the envelope," he said.

She pushed her eggs around in her plate. "I thought you didn't race until Sunday."

Fernando couldn't help but smile. "I thought you knew nothing about F1," he replied and she snorted. "It's practice today. Qualifying tomorrow, and then the race on Sunday," he informed her as he grabbed his jacket. "Do what you want in here, treat it like your own," he said as he walked out of the door.

She did just that. After finishing her breakfast and an extra slice of toast, she explored the only other room that she hadn't visited.

The bathroom was gorgeous, bigger than her entire apartment. The tub was huge, with enough room for at least four people. Sitting on the edge of it, she began to run the water. As it ran, she turned and looked in the mirror. For once, she actually looked well rested. She ran her hands through her hair, her gaze travelling down to the black bag of toiletries below the mirror. But she didn't look, didn't invade his privacy.

She'd never been somewhere this luxurious, she thought as she sank beneath the copious bubbles in her bath. She scrubbed her body and massaged the shampoo into her scalp.

Even when she was finished, she still just laid there, waiting for the water to grow cold, the bubbles around her to pop and for her skin to grow pruney.

It was only then that she climbed out. She took her time drying her hair, a towel wrapped around her body as she moved through the hotel room, picking up her clothes as she went.

Her hair was still somewhat damp when she left the hotel room and climbed into the elevator, humming along to the music as it took her down to the lobby.

Again as she walked through the lobby, she was stared at. Maybe it was because of the height of her heels or her lack of clothing, but she didn't care. She swayed her hips as she walked out of The Crown Plaza Hotel.

It was an area she rarely visited in her line of work. She had no idea where she was going as she strolled down the streets, looking for a clothes shop.

The first shop she found she went into. She walked around the sales racks, looking for a classy dress for her dinner with Fernando. But nothing in that shop caught her eye.

She moved onto the next one. This hate it all. Classy dresses, pretty shoes and cute purses. She took some more times looking through the racks, searching for the perfect dress.

It was black and form fitting. Skirt was long, down to her mid calf, and had a slit going up the left side. It was simply perfect. She found the perfect pair of black, open toed heels to go with it, paid, and kept going.

There was still a fair bit of money left in the envelope. And, why would Fernando give it to her if not to spend it.

She returned to the hotel maybe minutes before Fernando. When he walked in, she was holding her new clothes up to her body and swaying in front of the mirror. She clearly couldn't wait for dinner.

Fernando cleared his throat, announcing himself. She placed the dress on the bed and walked out of the bedroom, heading towards Fernando. "Hi," she said, stopping in front of him.

"You went shopping, then?" He asked her.

She nodded. "Got a dress for tonight as well as a couple of other things. I hope that was okay."

Fernando couldn't stop himself from smirking. But he couldn't think of her, wouldn't think of her like that while she was on his dime.

"Well, go and get ready," he said and she turned, returned to the bedroom.

Fernando followed her. As she dug around in one of the shopping bags for the makeup she had bought.

As she ran off to the bathroom to do her makeup, Fernando got dressed into a white shirt and a pair of jeans. She did her makeup in a new style, a prettier, softer smile. One that didn't automatically give her 'fuck me' eyes.

As Fernando waited on the sofa, she ran from the bathroom to the bedroom to get dressed. She pulled her shoes on and did them up before stepping into her dress and pulling it up over her body.

As soon as she pulled the straps up, she walked out of the bedroom and over to where Fernando was sitting. "Zip me up?" She asked as she turned around and pulled her hair out of the way of the zipper.

Fernando's breath hitched as he brushed away the hair she hadn't been able to gather up. His fingers were soft against her skin as he pulled the zip up and let her hair full back in place.

He took her out for dinner. Her arm was linked through his as he walked her through the lobby to his car. The car that she hadn't quite gotten a good look at the night before.

It really was something. Some sort of McLaren, she didn't know which. But it was gorgeous. Fernando opened the door for her and she carefully slid in, holding her dress in place.

Fernando drove, playing his music as he took her to their destination. Again, it was a restaurant she had never been to. One a couple of the few dates she had been on took her out to eat, but it was never anywhere like this.

"Are you sure you're okay being seen somewhere this fancy with someone like... me?" She asked as Fernando pulled up outside. Each dish was going to be a minimum of £25 each.

Fernando looked at her, really looked at her. "I don't know," he answered, placing his hand onto her knee. She didn't have a problem with it, but as soon as he put it there, he withdrew it. "But I want to know."

Taking her arm once again, he took her into the restaurant.

Fernando let her order whatever she wanted. While they waited for food, they spoke. He asked about her life and she asked about his. When Fernando asked how she got to this point in her life, she hesitated. It wasn't the easiest subject to talk about. "I haven't... uh... turned many tricks," she finally said. "My colleagues look after me. They make sure I'm picky with it. Your car looked fancy enough for them."

Fernando let out a chuckle, his hand stretching across the table towards her, revealing the tip of the tattoo on his arm. "I'm glad," he said, softly.

But she had already grabbed his wrist and pushed up his sleeve. "I had no idea you had a tattoo," she said as she traced her finger over it.

"I'll show you the one on my back after dinner," he said, unable to hide his smile.

She settled back down as their food was placed in front of them. "How long have you been in F1 for?"

"Over twenty years now," he answered and she immediately grinned.

"See," she began as she pushed her food around on her plate. It was incredibly fancy and she was craving a greasy, terrible for you, pizza. "Told you that you're old."

Again, Fernando grinned. Normally he had an issue with people calling him old, made a point to prove that he was still young, that he still had fight in him, but with her he didn't mind. "Won the championship in 2005 and 2006."

"That's impressive, I think," she replied as she took a bite of her food.

"It is."

She took a bite of her food and looked around the restaurant. It was far too high brow for a girl like her. She sunk in on herself and took another bite of food. "Nando, do you wanna get out of here?"

As soon as she said it, he was calling for the bill and having their food boxed up for them. Fernando kept her arm on his as he walked her back out to the car, the food balanced in his other hand.

Once they got to the car, she opened the door for him and Fernando slipped into his seat. "Do you want to get anything else to eat?" He asked as they drove.

"Aren't you on, like, a strict diet or something?" She asked in reply, keeping hold of the food.

Fernando shrugged his shoulders. "If you something, I'll get it."

There was only one thing she wad craving at that moment. "Pizza?"

"Of course."

They got pizza and returned to the hotel room.

Sitting on the sofa together they watched movies while eating pizza. Fernando only had some, letting her have the rest. Just like the previous night, she began falling asleep on the couch against him. Fernando moved her to the bed.

The next day, between free practice and qualifying, Fernando was Karting with Lance. It was for the Aston Martin social media, the two of them racing around the circuit.

After free practice, Fernando returned to the hotel room. "Come with me today," he said as she sat at the table, feet propped up as she ate a pastry.

"Really? You want me to be seen with me?" She asked as she let her feet drop from the table.

"I can make sure that there are no cameras on you."

He doesn't want to be seen with you, something inside of her said. But she was getting paid for this, so she went with it. "Sure, sounds fun," she said and walked into the bedroom to get dressed.

Leaving the door open, she dropped her robe and pulled the sundress she had bought the day before onto her body. He better have seen her, she thought as she pulled on a pair of sandals, which she had also bought the day before.

"You look..." Fernando breathed as she stepped out of the bedroom towards him.

She held her skirt and spun. "Is it too much?"

"It's perfect," he said and offered her his arm. He walked her out of the room and out to the car. For the entire journey to the track, Fernando gave her a rundown of the team.

"Most importantly, you're going to see I'm not that bad for an old guy."

She giggled and reached over to kiss his cheek. Fernando parked up and took her hand as they climbed out.

Hand in hand they walked to the track. It seemed like everybody was waiting for them when they arrived. Before he knew it, Fernando was leaving her standing with Lance's girlfriend as he suited up and pulled his helmet.

They raced, Fernando holding the lead. He really did prove that he wasn't so bad for an old timer.

As soon as they finished filming the video, Fernando pulled off his helmet and walked over to her. "Not bad for an old timer, I'd say," he said with a grin.

"Not bad at all," she replied, holding his helmet from him.

But when Lawrence Stroll called him over, Fernando went. He left his helmet with her and joined his boss.

"Where did you find that pretty young thing," he asked as they walked.

Suddenly Fernando didn't feel comfortable answering. But he swallowed down the fear he was feeling. "She gave me directions for The Crown Plaza. And then I kept her around," he answered.

Lawrence frowned. "Is she... is she a hooker?" He asked and Fernando nodded. "Well, she can't come to the race tomorrow," he said. "It wouldn't look good for Aston Martin."

As much as Fernando didn't like the sounds of that, he understood. He said goodbye to his boss and walked back over to her. "Come on," he said, taking his helmet from her. "I think I promised to show you my back tattoo.

He did what he needed to do before leaving the track and walked her back to the car. They climbed in and, with an hour and a half before Fernando needed to be back for qualifying, he took her back to the hotel.

Things were quiet when they walked in. Fernando kept a hold of her hand as he walked her to the bedroom. As soon as he was at the bed, he pulled off his shirt and laid down on the bed, revealing his back tattoo to her.

"Wow," she gasped. She climbed onto him, sitting on his back as she traced her fingers over the lines of his tattoo. "Did it hurt?" She asked, feeling his shoulders and his muscles.

Fernando didn't know. He kept a hold of her, rolled her over while keeping her on him. One look in his eyes and she was dipping down, kissing him like it was the last time.

He spent all of the time he had before qualifying making sweet love to her. He was slow, rolling his hips against her own, eliciting soft cried of his name from her hips. Nobody had ever treated her that tenderly before. Nobody had ever made her cry out like that.

"I have to go," he whispered, his hands intertwined with hers.

She brought his hand up to her lips and kissed the back of it. "D'you think I could come with you?" She asked sweetly, innocently.

It was so difficult, but Fernando said no. He left her there while he went racing. Part of him wanted to break it off now, knowing it could never work between them, but he couldn't bring himself to.

But that day was fast approaching and his heart was already breaking.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

just a distraction ft. choso kamo!

academic rivals, academic rivals, academic rivals, academic rivals- set-up: in which, choso and you are academic rivals. in every exam, the raven-haired cunt always seems to be just a negligible percent ahead of you. maybe you've had enough of his bullshit. maybe you should find better ways to get him off that first rank? (both the reader and choso are in second year of college)

warnings: PORN WITH (A LITTLE) PLOT. nsfw babes. contains blowjob, cunnilingus, dirty talking, pet names (baby, darling, etc.), banter (lots and lots). yeah mdni <3

you didn't know much about choso kamo. not really, no.

i mean you knew the basics. you knew his name, his voice. you knew that he always was dressed in black and that he had that weird (somewhat hot) tattoo cutting a horizontal across his pretty face. you knew he had two younger brothers (the pink-haired twin underclassmen) and how he doted on them outside of these wretched lecture rooms.

oh, and what else? you knew he was a fucking bastard.

you knew how smug he was. how absolutely insufferable. you knew the way he scoffed when the professor asked you for the answer instead of him. you knew the way he rolled his eyes when you told him he was wrong. and you knew his full lips always curled up when all the students would gather around the notice board after the exams.

you knew he would always scan his gaze over the crowd, meet your eyes and mouth, "maybe next time, sweetheart." and then walk away.

there's no way an arrogant asshole like him should ever come first in anything! but here you stood in front of the fucking notice board, seeing his name next to the first rank. again.

you had tried everything, really. you had been studying everyday in the library until the staff physically pushed you out of the gates and asked you to go home. you had practiced every question paper in existence, really. then how was he still sitting on top with that stupid fucking smirk of his?

"ugh, don't tell me you're going to the library today." nobara groaned, sprawled out on your dorm bed. "exams literally ended two days ago. you should take some time off!! you promised me you would shop with me once the break came-"

"that was before that bastard beat me again." you mumbled, stuffing a thick notebook into your bag haphazardly.

"are you gonna ditch me for that guy? again? nobody even cares about coming first in uni!! it's a miracle we're all passing, even."

"it matters to me."

"sure does..." nobara pouted. then she sat up and tucked her legs one under the other. she eyed you cautiously and uncannily slow, then grinned like a devil, "what are you doing?"

"what? packing my bag to go to the library?"

"why are you trying so hard to impress him?"

if your body was not a human body, you were sure your eyes would have fallen off and onto the ground. you spluttered, "excuse me? i- i am not trying to impress anybody!"

"uh huh, uh huh." she rested her face on her open palm as if oblivious to the accusations she had placed upon you and your character.

"don't uh huh, uh huh me."

"i am just saying that there are more ways to get a first rank than just studying your ass off you know?" she followed with a cashmere smile, "maybe you should take up another strategy. distract your opponent a little?"

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

this was stupid. really, really stupid.

but nonetheless, you knocked on his dorm room and awaited an answer.

the rest of the floor was empty, most people on vacation or back home for the spring break but not him. he was holed up in his room doing god knows what (studying, probably.)

you subconsciously pulled down the hem of your short denim skirt while awaiting his answer. it's not like you dressed too modest or something. but knowing that you had purposely put on a white, almost see-through long sleeve with a mini, mini denim skirt for all the wrong purposes felt embarrassing.

he would probably see through your act so quickly.

the door finally swung open and there stood an annoyed man in a black, fitted tee and black sweats. his long, choppy hair had been put up in a half-up and his annoyed expression morphed into a sadistic, half-satisfied smile when he saw you. his lips tugged upwards as he took you in, up and down.

"want something?" he asked slowly, leaning against the door frame and towering over you.

you held the books flush against your chest, as if hiding yourself from his scrutinizing gaze. "i-" you swallowed thickly, the words going sour on your tongue, "i just was wondering if you would help me out."

"awh, finally asking for me help, sweetheart?"

the urge to flip him off and walk away was big. but the urge to defeat him and see his crying face was bigger.

"are you gonna invite me in or are we supposed to do this in the middle of the hallway?" you snapped.

god, your self esteem was taking brutal hits right now.

he stepped to his right and mockingly invited you in. you stepped inside into his dark, disheveled dorm room. only purple LED lights had been turned on and from the looks of it, his roommate was gone. possibly on vacation. the raven-head's laptop lay forgotten on his bed and the dimly lit screen had some pop-up game menu asking if he wanted to exit the game.

you looked back at him as he locked off the door. you swallowed yet again, "uhm, so what were you doing?"

"playing." he remarked nonchalantly, nodding towards his laptop. he sat on his roommate's clean bed and you mirrored his actions by sitting on choso's messed bed.

"so?" he quipped again, and the purple led lights casted ghostly shadows across his face, "what does the princess need help with?"

"first, she needs you to drop that cocky, bitchy attitude." you chewed on the inside on your cheek to bite back insults, "second, i- uhm, needed help with the integral problems."

"ah, really? which part?" he stood up, walking over to where you were sitting. looking down, he casted a dubious look as your fingers pulled his tshirt downwards as if nudging him to sit down besides you.

he sat down, uncomfortably close to you on that small bed. he refused to meet your gaze, choosing to pick up the book you had brought with you and flipping through it.

you leaned forward, purposely brushing your perked chest against his biceps. you pointed towards a random problem and whispered, "that one, please."

and just like that, choso kamo was fucked.

you could feel the man's composure was evaporating when he nodded dryly and swallowed in vain. he tried to put distance between you two but you felt confident in your teasing. deciding to press himself closer to his side, molding your curves against his sculpted body, you noticed how he shifted his pants ever so subtly.

"so, you know this needs to be integrated separately first-" his breath hitched as your light fingers skimmed over his arm and you nodded enthusiastically to continue. "right- so. so, you know then you take the numerator okay? and you should- hey w-what?"

he stopped confused as you lightly skimmed over his thighs. your fingers barely brushed over his hard-on. you flashed him a smile, "you look a bit tensed up. i feel like i can't study if you'd be so stiff around me."

"yn." choso breathed as you brushed your soft fingers past the growing tent again. his rough hands held your wrist still as he gave you a pleading look, "what are you doing?"

you took the book out of his hands, placing it somewhere on the bed. then you gave him a reassuring smile, "choso, relax."

and then you sat down on the floor. your hands separated his thighs gingerly and you looked up at him one more time. he had closed his eyes, as if looking at you would make him cum.

you dragged your fingers to the waistband of his pants and tugged them down slowly. his erect dick sprung up, slightly hitting his clothed abdomen. hiding your amusement at his apparent shyness, you slowly pumped his dick.

"look at me." you whispered and he exhaled softly. when his eyes met yours, you took off your shirt, presenting him with your bare torso.

"fuck-" he choked up, eyes transfixed on your perked nipples and the slight goosebumps on your supple skin.

your fingers pumped him languidly and you finally placed wet, kitten licks on the mushroom tip. tasting his salty pre, you swirled your tongue around it, relishing in his breathless whimpers. then, in one go, you took him in. you sucked on it while your hands worked his base.

you looked up at him through fluttering eyelashes and something in his demeanor broke. as if he had finally let lose.

his rough palm pressed against the back of your head, pushing you to take in more. you momentarily gagged around his cock and he moaned as your helpless voice reverberated against his shaft. he pushed you in slowly, looking at the way your eyes started tearing up.

fighting off a feral grin, he whispered, "you have no idea how long i've waited to do this."

then his hands guided you up and down, using your face as a toy for his pleasure. your manicured nails dug into the fabric as he abused your mouth for his pleasures.

"fuck- fuck. fuck. look at you, on your fucking knees. you're so fuckin' pretty, god." he threw his head back and strings of curses and moans left him as you worked in tandem with him. sucking him in pacing with the way he moved your head up and down. you eyes were getting watery and your throat feeling sore but you kept going, sucking harder till you felt him tremble under your strained touches and spit-soaked, red lips.

"i think im gonna cum- f-fuck i-" his voice broke and suddenly your mouth was full of a salty liquid. you swallowed down and ignored the sting that his dick had left behind in your throat.

still struggling to breath, he looked down at you. his calloused fingers softly wiped off the drool on your chin and he pulled you back up to sit you on his lap.

"pretty sure that wasn't a part of calculus." he whispered, almost laughing at his own joke but you were having none of it.

"choso." you breathed, desperation etched into your voice as you rut your hot, wet core against his clothed thigh. your eyes were watery, voice hoarse, "cho-"

"what do you want?" he pulled you in and pressed a kiss on your throat, his hands running over your smooth back, "ask me 'n ill give you the fuckin' world."

you leaned into his soft kisses. his clothed chest rubbed against your perked buds as you grinded yourself harder on him, "i dont know- you. i want you."

"you already have me." he insisted.

turning you around and laying you on his bed as softly as he could, he gave you a last hesitant gaze. his lips pressed chaste kisses down your body till he reached the swell of your breasts. his hand roughly pressed against one while his mouth latched onto the other.

he hummed, too drunk to say anything other than the feeling on your skin on his tongue. his fingers pulled at your hard nipple and you jolted under him, fighting off a moan. he let go with a pop, his eyes trained on your face as he licked a stripe down on your skin before focusing on the previously ignored side.

your hands tangled in his hair and you pressed down his face harder against yourself, insisting him to go rougher on you. as in on cue, he bit you slightly. grazing his sharp canine against your soft tits, he smirked when you shuddered under him.

moving even downwards, he kissed down on the soft fat on your stomach. his hands slowly played with the soft skin and he looked up at you, mumbling against your skin, "you're so fucking beautiful."

he undid the skirt, pulling it past your hips and thighs and throwing it somewhere on the floor. then, he took off his shirt, leaving him bare to be ogled at. you propped up, eyes running over every taut muscle rippling under his skin. mindlessly, you mumbled, "i hate you, you know?"

he gave you an easy smile, "maybe if you focused as much on integrals as you do on my abs, you would have been first."

"excuse me?" you sat up haughtily, "are you fucking stupid? asshole!"

his hands gently guided you back, laying you down. he gave you a teasing smile, "you run your mouth too much. that's your issue, yk."

"did i ask for your opinion or he-lp-" you closed your eyes as the pad of his thumb rubbed your clit through your slick-drenched panties.

he slowly traced circles on the sensitive nub, kissing the inner side of your plush thighs, "i thought that's why you came here?" he pressed an open-mouthed kiss close to where you wanted him. then he looked up and mumbled through a hooded gaze, "i thought you needed my help?"

he pulled the translucent fabric aside, he kissed the bundle of nerves before licking down a patient stripe down to your entrance, "fuc- choso ngh-"

"or is this it?" he spread your thighs apart more, looking at the glistening core, "did you want my help to fuck you as dumb as you are?"

before you could argue, he dipped his tongue in your entrance. his tongue lapping up the juices. he dragged his tongue up, focusing on your clit and the way you squirmed under him when he sucked on the puffy bud harshly.

looking over at your flushed face and being guided by your desperate hands, he pushed in two fingers inside. dragging them in and out, he marveled in the way your body responded to his touches.

your walls spasmed every time he entered and refused to let him go. you bit your lip to quiet yourself down. your thighs were shaking ever so slightly, your mouth agape, lips stained red. your back arched off the bed when he increased the pace and you tugged on his hair and cried out a moan when he used his thumb on your clit and pressed a kiss to your thigh.

"oh my god-" your back arched off as he sucked at your clit again, "fuck fuck fuck, choso. i'm gon'- cum, im gonna cum."

he pressed one last, fleeting kiss to your flushed clit. and he stayed there, drinking up any wayward nectar till you stilled under him. once he was sure you were through your orgasm, he stood up on his knees. wiping his face off, he asked, "you okay?"

you gave him a lazy, unenthusiastic thumbs up and he laughed at the gesture. climbing up, he came up and kissed your nose. you were sure he could taste the salt on your skin.

well, not like it wasn't his fault you were like this anyways.

laying next to you, he stared up at the ceiling and you fidgeted with your hair because it felt as if there was nothing else to do. you chewed on your lips, mulling your words over, "i don't run my mouth too much."

now that the sexual tension was gone. it was awkward, "sorry i said it like that."

"yeah, i guess it's okay."

well there were other things he had said aswell. like "i have been waiting so long for this" or "you have me"... but you didn't feel like raising such important questions when your limbs ached with fatigue and your mind was clouded over with thoughts of choso in your veins.

he gave you a tight-lipped smile and after a minute, he climbed off the bed.

"uh, hey?" you got up too, "do you want me to like... leave?"

"what? no no. i figured you'd get cold." he shook his head and grabbed a plain, blue t-shirt from his closet. he handed it over to you and climbed back in bed, dragging the covers up to cover you both. hesitantly, he draped his hand over your waist and no sooner was he asleep. his soft snores rang through the room and now you lay confused next to him.

nobara had given you some ideas and you followed it. now what? choso barely seem distracted. if anything, it seemed like it had taken off some sort of load off of his chest. he was sleeping so peacefully that you resisted the urge to sock him in the face and run back to your dorm.

while choso lay unaffected, it seems as though this escapade is gonna be rough on you.

well, this is your sign to never take nobara's advice again.

a/n: i actually have a part two written out already. let me know if anyone wants to see it lol. part two is now up! hope you liked it <3

[scarletlizzard]

Only Angel

Music Series

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff × fem!Reader

Tags MDNI: smut, fingering, strap on use (R receiving), choking, praise/degradation, alcohol consumption, cheesy shit

Summary: You and your girlfriend Wanda go to a Halloween party at your friends new apartment and, unbeknownst to the two of you, find out her new roommate just so happens to be a familiar face.

Masterlist

A/N: I took this from a fic I wrote ages ago (that shall not be seeing the light of day) and thought it would fit well with this song!  Wanda and R live on Avengers Campus, Pietro is alive, everyone is happy, etc etc. Pietro and R are good friends and just want to karaoke! Yelena recently moved to town and found a roommate, and this is where R meets said roomie and sees the apartment for the first time.

I tried to edit it a bit, but I didn't delve too far into it! There may be some massive mistakes or inconsistencies, so if there is.... no, there isn't 🫶 As always, any comments are greatly appreciated 😄 Hope y'all enjoy! Happy Friday and Happy Summerween 🎃

****

You: There is no way I can wear this...

Yelena: You're finee! It's only one night! Hurry up!

You sigh at the texts from your friend and let your eyes travel your body through the mirror in front of you. The amount of skin showing had you beginning to feel self-conscious, had you wanting to take it off and stay home, had you wishing you hadn't given in to your friends idea for the costume.

On top of your head sat a feathered white halo, your hair underneath spilling down your shoulders. Your torso wore a white corset that shows a little more cleavage than you're used to, and strapped to your back were small white feathered wings to match the halo. On your legs, you wore a short white skirt that barely made it mid-thigh, and underneath, you had on white tights.

You were in the middle of debating on taking it all off and not going when you hear a knock on your bedroom door. Wanda walks in, closing it shut behind her, mouth gaping as she looks at you. The desire burning in her eyes makes your cheeks flush, you bite your lips, and turn to her hesitantly.

"So.. what do you think?" You ask quietly, giving a little spin for her. Wanda still hadn't said a word. Instead, she just stared at you and shook her head. You blush harder, "No?"

"I-I'm sorry I just... wow..." Is all Wanda can say as she licks her lips and walks closer to you, standing directly in front of you. "You looking fucking amazing, Y/N.." She whispers against your lips, her hands finding their way on your body. "God, you look stunning... I'm not so sure you're an angel, though," she teases.

"Of course I am! I'll be an angel, just you wait and see," you giggle with a smile and rest your hands on hers, pecking her lips and turning away from her to grab something. She raises an eyebrow curiously.

When you turn back around, you're holding a headband with devil horns attached, and you place it on Wandas head, fixing her hair around it. She laughs, and you step back to take in her appearance. The devious look in her eyes seemingly matches her costume. She's wearing a red suit with a black blouse underneath, black stilettos on her feet. The suit fits to Wandas body perfectly, and it's your turn to drool at the sight of her. It didn't seem fair how gorgeous Wanda always is.

"Wands.." You start off and step forward, placing a hand on her chest.

"Hm?" She mumbles, staring down at you hungrily. Her emerald eyes darken.

"If we don't leave now, we're never going to make it out of this room," You swallow hard, and she chuckles lowly, wrapping an arm around your waist. Wanda can hear your thoughts loud and clear, and she nods, agreeing. She smirks and gives you a kiss on the cheek.

"After you.." Her voice is low, and she holds her arm out for you to walk in front of her. You take a deep breath and walk out into the hallway, feeling Wandas hand immediately on your lower back.

Seeing Wandas reaction definitely calmed you down. She always made you feel beautiful... part of you was still a little self-conscious, but you try to ignore the little voice nagging in the back of your mind and just enjoy the night. A loud whistle being blown brings you back to reality, and you look up to see Pietro and Natasha standing by the car.

"Holy shit!" Natasha says, watching you walk closer and laughing in disbelief. You blush hard and look up to see Wanda smirking.

"Okay, okay," you roll your eyes, a smile playing on your lips as you look to Pietro. "Nice costume," you eye him up and down playfully.

"I know, I look hot, don't I?" Pietro smirks back and flexes, showing off his muscles. He's wearing a white tanktop with the word 'LIFEGUARD' printed bold across his chest along with red shorts, a red whistle around his neck, and white paint that looks like sunscreen on his nose. Pietro puts on the sunglasses he held and blows the whistle that hangs around his chest again. You can't help but laugh.

"Where's your costume, Nat?" Wanda asks and raises an eyebrow at her. The four of you get into the car. You sit in the backseat with Pietro.

"I'm just the driver tonight.. Maria and I are going to take her nephew out around the neighborhood," she says, and Wanda nods, glancing at you in the mirror.

"That sounds really nice," Wanda smiles at her.

"Hey, do you think she grew those herself?" Pietro whispers to you, pointing to the horns sat atop Wandas head. The two of you burst out into a fit of laughter as you nod along.

"You're going to have your hands full tonight," Natasha smirks at Wanda as she drives and nods to the backseat.

"Yes, I am..." Wanda sighs with a smile and watches as you and Pietro crack jokes, making each other laugh. Her heart warms at the sight.

It's dark outside as Natasha walks the three of you to Yelenas building. People run around in the streets in their costumes, kids laughing and yelling as they drag their guardians from place to place. The streetlights send a warm glow on the streets.

"Alright, here it is," Natasha says after you had entered the building and walked up a few sets of stairs. You hear muffled music and chatter as you look back at Wanda. She gives you a smile and a playful wink before following you and Natasha inside.

The apartment was big and spacious, filled with people in costumes all around. Halloween decorations plastered the walls, and the lights were low, glowsticks and pumpkin lights lighting up the living room where you noticed a makeshift dance floor. You passed a few couples making out as you walked down the hallway towards the kitchen. There was only a handful of people in there, one of them being Yelena.

"Oh my god, finally, you guys made it!" She hugs Natasha, who says goodbye to Yelena, then to you, telling Wanda she would be back to pick them up later or whenever you needed. Pietro wastes no time in grabbing a red cup and filling it with liquor before heading to the living room. You laugh at his enthusiasm and grab Wandas hand, entwining your fingers with hers.

"Yelena, this is crazy! I love the apartment, though... from what I can see anyway," you laugh, and she hands you and Wanda a red cup filled with alcohol.

She nods and sips her own drink, in a tipsy state already. "Mm, thank you! The roommate went to grab some more ice, but she'll be back soon. You guys will love her! She's the best."

Wanda nods and sips her drink, drinking half of it in one gulp. You squeeze her hand once before letting go to grab some of the shot glasses you saw on the counter. After filling them up, the three of you take a shot, feeling yourself become looser. Yelena leans in to you as she sees someone talking to Wanda.

"Y/n, you guys look so good. Seriously, the way Wanda was looking at you? You're welcome," she smirks, not so subtlely, and cheers with you before taking another shot.

You take in Wandas appearance again and sigh, looking back to your friend. "God, thank you so much," you fake a prayer with your hands, getting a loud laugh from Yelena. Then, the two of you are taking another shot. You and Wanda fill your cups and follow Yelena to the crowd of people in the living room.

This was so different from the Stark parties you had been to on campus. For one, the crowd was a lot younger. You started to dance with Yelena, the music was loud and the bodies around you were drunk and sweaty.

Wanda stares at you with dark eyes from the side of the room as your body moves against Yelena. She stood there leaning against the wall, sipping the entirety of her drink as she watched carefully. You and Yelena laughed and spun each other around, jumping up and down and moving freely together. You felt the hour go by.

You had just finished your drink when you felt a pair of hands on your hips. Goosebumps appeared on your arms, and Yelena leaned in to you, "I think I saw my roomie! I'll be right back!" She yells in your ear, and you nod, feeling the hands grip tighter.

The body behind you begins to dance, and you put your hands on top of hers, moving up and down her body to grind against her. You hear Wanda groan, and you grin, turning to face her. Putting your arms around her neck, you pull her closer to you. "Got tired of watching?" You giggle, looking up to meet her hungry eyes.

"Mm, no, never. I could watch you all night, angel," Wanda speaks the last part against your ear. You bite your lip to hold in a moan as she bites your lobe. You lean up and press your lips to hers desperately, feeling her lips curve upwards into the kiss. Her hold is tight on you, and you feel her tongue slip onto your mouth, the strong taste of liquor swirling around. After a few moments, you take her bottom lip between your teeth, pulling away with a 'pop' and receiving another low groan from Wanda.

"I'm thirsty.." You pout, and Wanda chuckles, nodding.

"Dancing for an hour straight will do that to you. Come on, baby," she smiles and takes your hand, guiding you to the kitchen. Your lips were red and puffy, and you couldn't keep your hands off Wanda. You smacked her butt playfully as you walked into the kitchen, the two of you laughing drunkenly.

"Y/n?" You hear a familiar voice say, and you stop abruptly. Wanda wraps her arms around you from behind and kisses your cheek, not being able to resist keeping her hands off of you as well.

"Y/n!" Yelena says and holds up her cup. "This is my roomie, Kate Bishop!" She points to the girl in the all black suit with dark hair who is staring at you with a surprised expression.

Wanda chuckles and tilts her head, grabbing a drink from Yelena as she steps away from you. "Kate Bishop.. why does that name sound familiar?" She turns to you with a smile, but seeing the look on your face makes it quickly fade.

Your face was pale, cheeks red from the alcohol coursing through you as you stand there completely still.

"Wow, um, you look amazing." Kate says, eyes shamelessly taking you in. "It's been a while, though..." She clears her throat and sips her drink awkwardly.

"Oh my god, wait, you two know each other?" Yelena smiles as her and Wanda stare at you.

"Uh, yep..." Is all you can manage to get out, filling a red cup up with the nearest bottle of vodka. Wanda frowns and moves forward to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. "What's wrong, angel?" She whispers in your ear.

"We um.. dated for a while," Kate sighs, hand in her pocket as she sips her drink. You close your eyes and sigh, looking up to see Wandas eyes burn red. It suddenly clicked to her why the name sounded familiar. You had told Wanda previously about your past flings with Kate.

"Kate Bishop..." Wanda mumbles to herself and turns to face the girl.

Yelenas mouth drops. "No fucking way!" She starts to laugh hysterically as she looks between the three of you.

"Yep.." You say again, bringing the cup to your lips to taste the vodka.

"It was a long time ago," Kate shrugs and walks towards the two of you, boldly patting Wanda on the shoulder. "It's nice to see you again, Y/N. Really nice..." Kate says and looks you up and down with a wink before leaving the room. Wanda feels her shoulder burn where Kate had touched it, and you both look to Yelena.

"Well... I need to, uh..." Yelena says and puts her red cup up to her mouth before quickly ignoring yours and Wandas gaze, leaving the kitchen. There's a moment of silence between the two of you as you stand there.

"Wanda... I had n-" You start, but Wanda cuts you off by grabbing your wrist and pulling you out of the kitchen. She pulls you down the hallway, past the dance floor to the other side of the apartment where the bathroom was. When she closes the door behind you, you open your mouth to speak again.

This time, you're cut off by her lips on yours and your back hitting the bathroom door hard. Your hands are in her hair, and her arms are by your head, trapping you. Wanda presses her body firm against yours, and you let out a quiet moan when you feel her strap press on you through her pants.

"I am going to fuck you so hard that everyone out there is going to know my name," Wanda threatens agaisnt your lips before traveling to kiss your neck. Your hands tug at her hair and you feel yourself get wet at her words.

"W-Wanda, we shouldn't." You moan out, body betraying your words. She kisses down your chest, leaving a mark on the top of your breast.

Wanda chuckles lowly, "I'm sorry, did you think I was giving you a choice?" She takes your hands and pins them above you, smirking at the gasp that escapes your mouth. "So what's it going to be.." her lips ghost yours as you stare up at her with seemingly innocent eyes. "Are you going to be good, and take what you deserve?"

You can only nod in response, your words slipping from your mind. Her grip on your wrists tighten, green eyes peering into yours. "Y-yes..." You finally spit out, your thighs clenching together harder as you feel yourself even more turned on.

"That's right, angel.. You're gonna be my good girl and take my cock," she whispers in your ear and lets go of your hands. You nod your head again quickly, needing to feel her inside of you, needing any type of relief from the strong ache between your legs.

Wanda picks you up and lets you wrap your legs around her hips. You cup her face in your hands and kiss her passionately and sloppily as she brings you to the bathroom counter. You feel the coolness of the counter against the back of your thighs and the mirror on your back. Wanda continues to kiss you desperately, and she begins to roll her hips against you. Groaning into her lips, you pull away and move your hands to help her take off your skirt. You watch with an even stronger aching as she unbuckles her belt.

You can't help but pull her back to you, and she smirks at your eagerness. You unbutton her suit and untuck her blouse, rubbing your hands against her soft skin underneath. Wanda kisses you again, lips desperate for contact. You gasp into her mouth when you feel her hands rip your tights, pulling them off of you quickly.

"Tsk, Tsk... my little slut... you wanted this, didn't you, angel?" Wanda chuckles, fingers tracing your wet folds. She slides two digits in easily, groaning at how wet you were for her.  "Not wearing any panties... you knew I'd be fucking you tonight, didn't you?" She uses her other hand to pull harshly at your hair, forcing you to look up at her. "Answer me, slut."

"Y-Yes!" You whimper out, hands gripping onto her shirt. "I wanted you to fuck me," you confess, and she chuckles darkly as she pumps her fingers faster.

"I know you did, my perfect girl. My angel, hm?" Wanda praises, and you can't help but let your hands slide underneath her blouse again to scratch at the covered skin.

After a minute of listening to you moan for her, she takes out her fingers, ignoring your whines at the sudden empty feeling. Her hand grabs your jaw, forcing your mouth open. "Taste yourself for me," Wanda sticks her two fingers in your mouth and watches as you suck them clean, feeling your tongue swirl around her digits as you taste yourself.

She practically growls at the sight and removes her fingers. Her hands leave you momentarily to slide down her pants enough to pull out her thick strap. Grabbing your hips in one hand and her cock in the other, she lines herself up at your entrance, moving the tip up and down your slit, circling it over your clit teasingly.

"Please, please, Wanda!" You beg, pulling her as close to you as you can. She smirks at your neediness, at your desperation.

"You're lucky we're short on time," she comments, "And you're lucky I can't control myself," Wanda adds, feeling the primal need to fuck you immediately. She was just as desperate for you. Before you could say anything you feel yourself being stretched out as she slides the plastic cock inside of you.

"Oh fuck!" You moan out loudly. Wandas arms move to wrap around you, her hands gripping your ass as you wrap your legs around her to pull her hips closer.

Your arms are wrapped around her neck as she starts to move, pumping herself in and out of you. Wanda groans at the sight of you, the noises you were making for her. Your breath is hot against her face before pulling her into a kiss. Wanda began thrusting harder at the feeling of your lips on hers and the sounds of your skin slapping together filled the small room.

"Thats it, take my fucking cock, angel.. I want everyone to know who this sweet cunt belongs to," Wanda chuckles lowly, her accent coming out thick. "Let me hear you, tell them who owns your perfect cunt,"

"Oh, god! Wanda! F-fuck you own me," you moan out and lean forward to put your head against her shoulder. Your lips attach to her neck, biting down on open skin. You can't help but smirk at the sound of Wanda moaning. The feeling of your wet lips kissing and nipping at her neck seemed to send her into a frenzy.

All too soon, Wanda is pulling out of you. She grabs you off of the counter and, in one quick motion, turns you around to face the mirror. Her hands make quick work in removing the now ruffled wings off of you, pulling your corset down just enough to see your breasts spill out from the top of it. When she's satisfied with the sight of your disheveled state, you feel her strap fill you up again. Her hands grip your hips as she begins pounding into you mercilessly.

"Wanda! Ohh feels so good, fuck.. stretching me out!" You manage to get out and she moans, moving one hand off of your hips to reach forward and grab your neck. She pulls you up roughly to have your back pressing against her front. Her fingers tighten around your neck as you feel her lips against your earlobe.

"I want you to watch..." She speaks lowly into your ear, staring into your eyes through the mirror. "I want you to watch as I fuck you and fill you up with my cum. You're going to watch as you fall apart, as you beg for me," Wanda moans in your ear and keeps her hand wrapped around your neck. Her other arm wraps around your chest, her fingers squeezing your sensitive nipples, hand groping your breasts that bounce with every thrust as she drills into you.

"Look at you, angel... Tits out, taking my cock in the bathroom while everyone can hear you being a slut for me. This is how it's supposed to be, isn't it? God, you are perfect. My only angel.. " Wanda never got tired of watching you like this, so needy and messy for her. Your lips parted as you tried to breath with her hand cutting off your air every couple seconds, tears running down your cheeks as she fucked you relentlessly, taking you closer and closer to an orgasm.

You can feel Wanda deep inside you, driving in and out of you at a steady pace. She's hitting that one spot that drives you crazy, and you know you won't last any longer. What really sends you over the edge is the look on Wandas face. Her dark green eyes stare intently at your body, looking into your eyes as she pants heavily and moans your name.

"Fuck angel. You're going to make me cum! I'm going to fucking cum, going to fill you up just like you deserve, baby. Fuck, fuck!" Wanda growls as her thrust become sloppy and you moan in response, nails digging into her arm as you grip onto her. 

"Me too, Wands! Please let me cum, please," you moan, vision becoming blurry with tears as you reach your climax.

"Cum with me, angel.. fucking cum all over my cock, let me hear you when you do. Tell them one more time who owns you," she pants out and latches her lips to your shoulder. "God, take it, take it!" Wanda moans against your skin, biting down hard as she cums.

"Wanda!" You scream her name loudly, both of your moans echoing off the walls as you finally get the relief you were looking for. Your knees go weak as you let go for her, pleasure shocking your core as you wet her cock just as she wanted. Wandas grip is tight on you as your body fails you, holding you in place as she fucks you through your orgasm. She slows to a stop, watching your chest rise and fall rapidly.

"That's it, that's it, I've got you.." She whispers in your ear, holding you tightly against her and kissing the side of your face and neck. "You did so good for me, angel, that's it.." 

After a moment, she pulls out slowly, smirking at the hiss that leaves your lips. You turn around, seeing the familiar devious glint in her eyes. "Get on your knees," she commands, and you can't help but obey. You go to your knees, there in the bathroom, face to face with her strap that was covered in your arousal. "Clean it up for me, angel," Wanda smiles softly, not matching the look behind her green eyes.

Her fingers weave into your hair as you take her cock in your mouth, tasting yourself, gagging as she slides it in further to the back of your throat. Wanda moans as she watches, drool dripping down your chin and onto your chest as you blink through those innocent eyes again. Although you and Wanda both knew, you were anything but. Wanda may have been wearing the horns, but she knew you were a devil in between the sheets. You were enjoying this just as much as she was.

"Just like that baby, every last drop," Wanda smirks down at you and lets you suck her strap for a few more moments. "Good job, you did so good for me," she praises you and removes her cock, tucking it back into her pants and buckling her belt back up.

Wanda wastes no time in helping you up and getting you cleaned up, praising you with more words of affirmations and plenty of kisses. The smile on your face as she did so made her chest warm all over again. She watches you slide up your skirt with shaky hands, chuckling at your the way your legs tremble slightly as she tucks her own shirt back in.

"Come here, my angel," Wanda smiles and takes off her suit jacket, wrapping it around you. You slide your arms inside the sleeves and breathe in deeply, feeling not only the fabric, but her comforting scent wrap around you. 

"Thank you," you giggle and rest your hands on her stomach, leaning up to kiss her.

****

You and Wanda were still in the bathroom, making out. You sat on the counter again, and she was standing between your legs. A knock at the door has you groaning as Wanda pulls away from your lips.

"I think we've held it up long enough. Let's go have some fun," she smiles and kisses your forehead, picking you up and lifting you off of the counter. Wanda had literally fucked you stupid. Your legs were still shaking when she set you down and even though she had done her best to clean you up, you still looked a mess in the mirror.

Wanda opens the door and holds your hand as you walk into the hallway. A few people standing there are staring at you with some wide eyes and giggles and a few of them smirking. One of those with wide eyes was Kate Bishop herself, unable to meet your own eyes. You smile to yourself, blushing deeply and wrapping yourself around Wandas arm. You didn't have to look up at her to know she had a crooked smile on her lips.

A couple hours later and an unknown amount of shots later, you were currently in front of everyone on the makeshift 'stage' with Pietro. Half of the crowd had left, but you and Pietro were still going strong. He stood next to you, shirt gone and wearing your wings and halo with a microphone in his hand. You had one arm wrapped around his shoulder to keep yourself from falling, now wearing his sunglasses and red whistle around your neck.

Bringing your microphone to your lips, you point at Wanda, who was stood in the back, still watching your every move. "This one -hiccup- goes out to my girlfriend! Shout out -hiccup- Wanda!" Your words slur together, and Pietro nods his head. Wanda can't help but laugh and smile at your drunken state, shaking her head.

"Yeah, and I dedicate it to that girl I made out with earlier," he points to a random brunette, and you hear a loud, "Whoo!" and "Yes!" From Yelena, who was, barely, standing in front of the two of you, recording on her phone.

You and Pietro wrap an arm around each other, both of you swaying back and forth as you belt into the microphones drunkenly.

"Baby, not a day goes by, that I'm not, into you!"  You're practically yelling into the microphone, but you still point to Wanda, serenading her beautifully, in your mind, at least. You and Pietro start to jump as the song picks up.

"I should be over all the butterflies, but I'm into, I'm into you..."

The two of you barely finish the song before Pietro is falling down, Yelena laughing hysterically and still recording.

"This is amazing!" She slurs and watches as you trip and fall right over Pietro. The three of you are in fits of laughter as Wanda walks over and nudges her brother, then picks you up.

"Alright, alright.. you guys got to do your karaoke.." Wanda is laughing and holding you up at your waist. You just stare at her, smiling and playing with her hair. "You're sooo pretty," you draw out your words with a giggle and bat your eyelashes, poking the horns on her head. She scrunches her nose playfully at you, "And you are so silly," she giggles back.

"Wait! Y/N, we didn't get to sin -" Pietro starts but is cut off by Natasha walking up.

"Nope! Get your asses in the car," she claps, pointing to the door. You and Pietro pout for a little bit but finally agree to leave. Yelena throws herself at you, hugging you tightly and telling you goodbye. Wanda finally pulls you away and wraps her shoulder around your waist to practically carry you down to Natashas car.

As you lay in the backseat with your head in Wandas lap, you feel her fingers running through your hair, playing with the soft strands. With your own hands, you gripped tightly onto her free hand. Pietro was still singing in the front seat next to Natasha, who was just laughing and shaking her head. Her and Wanda talked about the night, but you could only focus on Wanda, staring up at her. The streetlights shone through the window in flashes, lighting her face every once in a while. You watch as she talks, listening to her accent wrap around certain words. The way her fingers stroked your hair softly. Then suddenly she was staring down at you and you freeze as she smiles.

"You doing okay, angel?" She whispers, and you nod, watching her lips. Wanda leans down and gives you a sweet kiss, continuing to stroke your hair.

By the time Natasha pulled into the garage, you had passed out in the backseat. Pietro wanted to wake you to 'continue the party', but Wanda firmly told him no. She lifts you up in her arms, holding your body to her chest.

"She's an angel," Natasha teases and laughs at your sleepy state. "You got her?" Natasha asks, and Wanda nods, looking down at you in her arms. "I got her," she smiles and chuckles at your sleepy nature, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "My only angel," Wanda sighs quietly.

[wolfcin04]

The sunlight crept through the curtains in Rafe’s room, casting a warm, golden hue on the rumpled sheets. The soft glow of the morning felt so homey to her—a comforting feeling. Maybe it was the morning sun or the sleeping boy beside her that made her feel as though she was exactly where she needed to be. Y/n loved the early hours of the morning when Rafe was fast asleep beside her and Tannyhill was quiet.

“Creep,” he said in a deep, groggy voice.

Y/n froze; she thought Rafe was still fast asleep. Feeling a little embarrassed, she realized she’d been caught in the act.

“Ugh, you faker,” she muttered, swatting his arm lightly. A shy laugh escaped her lips, betraying her embarrassment.

“Mmm, come here,” Rafe murmured, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close until their faces were just inches apart. Close enough for Y/n to see the stubble on his chin.

“It’s 8 a.m. We need to get out of bed before we’re late to your dad’s brunch,” she said, trailing her fingers slightly through Rafe’s hair. She noticed how his smile twitched upward at her touch.

“No, no, let’s stay like this forever. Just you and me. Forget about them,” Rafe replied, his eyes still closed. He couldn’t help but feel warm and fuzzy in her embrace. If only Topper and the guys could see him now—they’d never let him live it down.

“As much as I would love to, I promised Sarah I’d help her pick out an outfit before we head downstairs.”

As soon as she said that, a loud knock sounded on the door.

“Y/N, I’m having a hair crisis! Please hurry!” Sarah yelled from outside.

Rafe groaned, burying his face in her shoulder. "speak of the devil", he mumbled, voice muffled

“I’ll be out in a sec” Y/n called back, gently prying herself from his grip.

“Be nice today, okay? I know you and your dad have had some differences, but it is his birthday, after all,” she said, standing up from the bed and walking toward the closet to find something to wear.

Rafe sat up and rubbed his hand over his face, trying to wake up.

“Oh, so now you care about Ward?” he asked in a slightly accusing tone.

Y/n stepped out of the walk-in closet and headed into the bathroom without even looking at Rafe.

“No, I care about Sarah and Wheezie. They’re like the younger sisters I never had. I don’t want them caught in the middle of yet another fight, Rafe. Please don’t fight me on this,” Y/n said, her voice echoing slightly in the bathroom.

Rafe followed her, standing behind her as she added the finishing touches to her hair. He couldn’t help but feel that flutter in his chest again. Placing a soft kiss on her shoulder, he rested his chin on her head and gazed at her through the mirror.

“Okay, you have a point. I’ll try my very best—for you, babe,” he said with a slight smile, giving her head another peck.

“Thank you, amor." she replied with a soft smile, her accent faint but familiar. "Now, please shower and meet me downstairs in 20 minutes,” she replied, turning to walk toward the door.

“What? That’s not nearly enough time to do my hair!” Rafe called out after her.

“Babe, you’re bald, remember?” she teased with a soft chuckle as she exited the room.

[kr-v]

Serdtse

pre/early s1 Viktor

male reader

Ch.1

Synopsis: You're a metalworker who has finally been given the opportunity to meet a long-time friend's assistant. And you're not sure what you expected, but this wasn't it.

Word count: 6k

Note: happy new year:) hope it is not too out of character

You typically meet what feels like copies of the same person in your field of work. The same industrial plants looking for parts, the same labour companies looking for tools, the same orders coming from the same people.

Sometimes, you do get the outlier—maybe an older woman cradling precious jewelry in her frail hands with the request that you resize it, telling tales of when she was young and beautiful and her rings still fit. You do your best to break your silence and humour her, telling her that her beauty has not faded one bit before offering a lower price, heart feeling a little heavier as you watch her head back down into the dark recesses of the Undercity, clean and adjusted jewelry hidden in her pockets.

And, despite these brief, unique-seeming instances, you still find yourself trudging through haze and sinking into a repetitive cycle.

Into the furnace, out of the fire, onto the anvil, into the water.

Forming. Cutting. Joining.

Again and again and again and again.

What once excited you has begun to dull, boring you in the process. You don't doubt the worsening conditions with shimmer in Zaun attribute to this sudden tilt towards a downward spiral. But you still hold a passion for your craft, so you stick with it, despite the itch for something, someone, to come and knock the piling monotony over. 

-

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. 

You're in the midst of completing yet another commission of metal panels, something you must admit you no longer find much joy making, let alone care for whatever their purpose will be. Not when you had made a near-painful amount of them for another client the prior week.

You aren't what would be considered talkative typically, but you would have appreciated something more than silence and an anxious glance in response when you had asked where they would be installed. The unease in the atmosphere gets to those from the other side of the bridge too, you suppose.

(What's life without mild irritation? You find yourself repeating the phrase often in your mind.)

You barely hear the ringing of the bell installed over the door as you hammer the hot metal, flattening it out. Looking up, you catch the eyes of a young man standing near the door. He's no devil—incredibly far from it, actually, and you swear you can feel your pulse quicken when you make eye contact—but he doesn't look like someone that would typically find himself in your type of shop. Especially not as you register he's wearing a Piltover Academy uniform. 

Too refined to be surrounded by burning metal and gear grease.

"I'll be with you in a minute. Sorry for the wait." 

His shoulders very slightly jump into a shrug when he assures you. "It's no problem at all."

And you go back to your task. You can feel his eyes on you, but you chalk it up to curiosity, which you can already tell he's full of. Something that feels rare in the misery that surrounds.

The final panel does not take long for you to finish and you pull your glove off and slip it halfway into the pocket of your apron where the other one is tucked in as you approach the front of your shop. The man is still there, very slightly leaning on his cane, and you're not entirely sure why you're pleasantly surprised he hasn't left.

But the answer to that comes quick when you move closer.

His deep brown hair is styled so that it doesn't hide his face, allowing you to get a better look at him. There are little moles dotted onto his face, with hollowed cheeks under sharp cheekbones that lead to his unexpectedly piercing eyes. You might have described as pools of molten gold had you been referring to a piece of art and not a real person standing in front of you.

His features are sculptural—sharp edges with an undeniable softness hard to identify. In another life, where you had chosen a more artistic passion, you'd have loved him as a muse. 

"It really was a minute." His strong brows are raised and the tone you can hear in his voice is unexpectedly teasing as he pulls you out of the nearly-endless abyss of your thoughts, as if he knows what you're thinking. 

You exhale a laugh through your nose after a second of reeling your mind back into the present moment and away from his appearance. It's probably the first amused noise you've made in weeks. "Thanks for waiting." Your gaze lingers on the mole above his lip for the briefest moment. "What can I help you with?"

"I presume you are (Y/N), yes?"

"I am." "Perfect." He takes a step closer, as if this confirmation was what he needed to properly allow himself into the space. "Professor Heimerdinger sent me here, something about a talented metalsmith whose help he needed." He scans your shop with his pretty eyes as he speaks and there's a pause his explanation before he looks at you once again. "I'm Viktor, his assistant." He moves his right hand outwards, as if to shake yours, before his eyebrow twitches and he seems to remember the dark blue folder occupying his hold. "Oh, eh.. Here." His lip quirks into a small smile and he holds the folder out for you to take. 

There's a little spark of recognition that passes through you as you realize who exactly is standing in front of you.

In truth, Heimerdinger had described Viktor to you in prideful detail, like a father boasting about his golden son. You can feel the bit of excitement bubbling in your chest as you realize this is your opportunity to finally see the man behind Heimerdinger's carefully crafted, but ultimately foggy image. He'd never been one to discuss physical appearances and you never expected.. this.

You take the folder gently in one hand and properly introduce yourself, holding out your other, thankfully clean, hand for a proper handshake now that Viktor's is free.

His hand is a little cold and you feel it jolt against yours from the shock of the temperature change—your skin is still warm, bordering on hot, from your physical work and the glove you only just pulled off. 

You do your best to steer your mind away from the skin-to-skin contact as you pry the folder open.

"..I've heard of you before." A glance is thrown his way to see his reaction.

The surprise in his face is evident. His thick eyebrows are raised again and there's this glimmer in his eyes. "You have?"

"From Heimerdinger. He seems very proud to have you as an assistant."

You flip through the papers after finding you need to tear your eyes away from his bright face. "And 'talented'? The professor is ever the flatterer, did he tell you to say that?"

"Maybe."

The papers inside display sketches of gears, all labelled and neatly detailed with dimensions and materials. Yet, they're oddly uncomplicated. "Why send you all the way here? I'm sure someone at the academy can make these. They're quite simple." 

At that, Viktor cocks his head, eyebrows quirking, as if to say he understands your thought process. "To be entirely honest, Heimerdinger also said something about wishing you'd visit again. I suppose this is his indirect way of inviting you." His nose scrunches for a second as he winces and his teeth show for a quick moment. It's charming. "...I also suppose I spoiled his plan."

Not entirely. You're not quite sure if he realizes the other half—the professor did let it slip that he believed you and Viktor would get along quite well, and this is the perfect opportunity. Face-to-face, standing on equal ground, and without the distractions that come with being inside the Piltover Academy.

But you don't mention this.

"Maybe."

Instead, you echo his words and tilt your own head to the side. "I guess I can do this, then." You gesture with the folder. "And drop the finished gears off myself. To, er, indirectly accept his invitation." 

Seeing Viktor's amusement painted on his face with another smile feels like a small victory. A victory you're not sure you should be internally celebrating. But the smile really does fit his features nicely.

"That works." There's another pause. His eyes quickly fleet over your body. You're sure he's now realizing just how messy you look, covered in soot and grease. Maybe he's judging your work clothing, too. You can't exactly vouch for the safety of relying on an apron and a, maybe slightly too tight, dirty old shirt for upper body protection.

In contrast, Viktor's well dressed. He's in a maroon button-up, with layered vests, a cravat, and ironed dress pants. He looks nice. And you do your best to ignore the fact that you feel like a grimy fool standing in front of him. You hope that, at the very least, he doesn't think you dress like this outside of your job.

"Quite impressive." Your brows pinch.

"Your work is very versatile." He clarifies.

Oh.

You're internally chagrined for a moment before logic kicks in. 

Sure, Viktor's attractive. You can admit that to yourself—and you already have a million times over in your racing mind. But this is humiliating. You've only just formally met.

"Ah.. yes, I do a bit of everything." Praise from anyone as bright as he must be would get your heart jumping, you justify, no matter who it is. "Thank you."

He moves closer to one of the many tables in your space, one that's littered with all sorts of tools, papers, and things you've crafted. Some yet to be picked up by clients, some with no final destination or use—often made during odd hours, when sleep felt like it was out of your grasp and your mind still buzzed.

"May I touch?" 

You swallow.

"Go ahead."

Your fingers drum against the folder for a few seconds before you make your way around Viktor and place the paper down onto your much neater desk.

Viktor leans his cane against the cluttered table and picks up a small, overcomplicated mechanical propeller. It's not your typical smithing work that people look for—a mechanism rather than a tool or weapon—and it's been lying around for so long, you only vaguely remember its intended use. "I believe that was ordered by a father. ...Something about his kid's toy."

"Why do you still have it?"

"He gathered enough money to move, or something like that. No need for toy planes at that point. I have not received any orders for.. mechanical things since then, unfortunately." The fact that a piece of a child's toy is one of the best things you have to show for your engineering prowess makes you frown.

Viktor makes a little sympathetic hum in the back of his throat and pushes one of the blades with his pointer finger. "I understand." It's quiet but you can tell he's genuine.

He watches as it spins, holding it close to his face and analyzing it like it's some impressive, overly detailed mechanism.

"Quite intricate.." He seems to be talking to himself, but he lifts his head to look at you and continues, before you have the chance to argue that it's nothing spectacular. "And you also made those?" Using the hand that holds the propeller, he gestures to the far corner of the main room, where steel breastplates are propped up against the wall.

You lean against the edge of your desk, arms crossed over your chest, where a little flame of pride begins to burn. And maybe a little bit of something else you don't want to entertain the thought of. Something you probably should not entertain the thought of, especially not so soon. "Everything in here is my own." The sentence comes out colder than you wanted as a result and you hope the smile you give afterwards helps soften it. 

It seems to work, or maybe Viktor doesn't mind your tone, either way. "Very interesting." He places the propeller back onto the table, between a jar of thick nails and some rusted cinch clamps. "Jack of all trades and master of them all, it seems. Flipping the saying on its head, so to speak." He sounds and looks genuinely impressed and it fans the the fire in your chest. It may be because this is the first time the man has stepped foot into your workplace and he's already flattering you nearly to a fault. And because genuine compliments seem so rare now.

Or it may be because of who's giving them out. 

You choose not to dwell on the thought longer than need be. 

"You're too kind." Is what you manage to say. A bit quieter, softer, than intended. "I'm no master, but thank you, Viktor." 

"From what I've already seen, you are." His shoulders jump up into a slight shrug as he replies.

The light tone of his response paired with a facial expression you can't quite make out makes it feel like something you'd hear from someone you've known for far longer, someone you hold much closer, and not from Heimerdinger's assistant whom you first saw in person only 20 minutes ago. His eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks away. 

Viktor's gaze is back on the table. You know from Heimerdinger that he has more of an interest in the mechanical, engineering side of things. That claim is backed up as you watch him zero in on one of the blueprints partially hidden under an array of tools. His palm is flat on the tabletop and his fingers twitch, like he's holding back from pulling the pages out from under the mess to get a better look at the lines sketched into the blue paper.

Part of you really does not want to say your next words.

"Shouldn't you be heading back to the academy now?" Viktor's eyes are on you again. This time, he blinks, looking puzzled and maybe even a little... deflated. His hands drop to his sides as he stands up straight. "I'm sure you're needed there, and I don't want to take up too much of your time."

"The professor gave me plenty of time—the whole day, actually—and you're not forcing me to stay." You can't argue with that. Especially as you feel your own relief seeping into your bones.

I hoped you'd say something like that. That is left unsaid.

"Plus.." There's a pause, a split second too long. His eyes seem to search for something unseen in his mind. "I do find your work interesting."

You uncross your arms and your fingers drum against the edge of the desk this time. "Do you usually hand out compliments like this?"

"Sometimes." It's all Viktor says, and he pairs it with a glance you can't decipher. 

"Well, uh... I unfortunately have to go out and pick up some materials today...." There's a pause. Viktor's eyebrows furrow and there's a little frown, maybe even a hint of a pout, tugging at his lips and you want to punch yourself for paying so much attention to them. "But, maybe you can find some time to stop by another day? If you don't mind for me to work on the gears you were sent here for during your visit.."

He looks relieved at your words. The crease between his eyebrows smooths out and his mouth relaxes into a little smile that thins out his lips. Your brain is still stuck on the briefest image of the pink of his bottom lip jutting out in disappointment and you nearly forget to listen to his answer, having to forcibly haul your attention back to the present. "I wouldn't mind that at all." He seems to mentally run through his schedule and he holds his chin between his pointer finger and thumb. "Would Thursday two weeks from now work?" In the quickest instant, you picture your hand replacing his, and his facial expression morphing into a softer one as you lean in, his hands on your waist—god.

"That works perfectly."

Any plans you had for that day be damned.

You're sure Viktor is happy to have more time to quench his inquiries and you're more than happy to provide some mental nourishment, though you do wish that interest would pivot away from your work and focus on you. 

You bid him goodbye, with a request to inform Heimerdinger you will visit when the gears are complete, and watch him leave, not getting back to your tasks until he's entirely out of view.

-

It's Monday afternoon the next week and you're surprised to find a paper unceremoniously slid under the door to your workshop. It's a crisp white envelope with the Piltover Academy symbol stamped into the wax seal that you do your best to preserve as you pry the flap open and pull out the page stored inside. Probably a letter from Heimerdinger, with an expression of excitement for your meeting.

Upon unfolding it, you find your theory disproven quickly. 

Dear (Y/N),

It was a pleasure meeting you last week, and I must admit I am glad Professor Heimerdinger's patience with you had run out enough to send me your way. Now, thinking about it, I can see that our meeting must have been part of his secret plan, as well. Smart man.

I am sending this letter as to inform you that the professor is greatly looking forward to your visit, which I'm sure you know. Whether or not you have finished making the gears by then seems to be the last of his concern. He has already begun creating a buzz around the academy regarding the visit of a mysterious, metalworking genius sometime in the following weeks. So, please be aware that there may be some extra pairs of eyes on you and many questions from curious students when you arrive. I hope this does not cause you to have second thoughts, though I doubt it will. 

I am looking forward to seeing you again next week and witnessing your creation process in person.

Kind regards,

Viktor

You stare at the paper in some confusion. Viktor sent you a letter. You're not sure why. The meeting between the two of you was brief, without anything particularly impressive to show on your part, and you still feel like you may have made a fool of yourself in some way.

And, either way, there was no need for Viktor to have gone out of his way to write all of this and send it. He could have told you everything in person next week. 

But you can't deny the little spark of 'what if?' that flashes through you, especially with his little humorous quips strewn throughout the lines. 

And he's looking forward to seeing you again? You're reading too much into it, but you really do internally wish this goes beyond simple work relations, and maybe Viktor wouldn't be against stepping into a genuine friendship. And possibly, though definitely out of reach, something closer.

Still, even if he doesn't share the dream, you skim over the sentence a few more times, until you read it with his voice in your mind and maybe a little gentler of a tone than necessary. 

You waste no time in finding a clean sheet of paper and a fountain pen. Doing your best not to overthink your words, you write a response.

Dear Viktor,

Thank you greatly for taking the time to handwrite a letter to me. I had not expected it, but I really do appreciate it, and I hope my thankfulness translates through my writing. 

(My apologies if this letter is too brief. Writing them is not my strong suit, I must admit.)

I am glad to hear that Heimerdinger doesn't seem to hold any animosity regarding my delay and I will do my best not to disappoint anyone curious when I arrive. But I make no promises. 

And I, too, am very glad to have met you last week. I anticipate with excitement to learn more about you during our next get together. I can already tell you have a bright mind and I am curious to hear about your studies. I can't be the only one discussing my specialty, after all. 

Thank you again for your kindness.

Regards,

(Y/N)

-

True to his word, Viktor shows up two weeks later on Thursday. 

He's holding a brown paper bag you assume contains his lunch and smiling when you immediately drop what you're doing to greet him. 

"I hope I'm not interrupting your work." There's that soft, teasing edge to his words again. 

"Not at all. I wasn't really working, anyway." It's the truth. You'd resorted to fidgeting around in your workspace in attempt to pass the time and ease your impatience as you waited for Viktor. Nerves had spiked in your insides as you considered the possibility that maybe he forgot, or changed his mind.

The fact the idea of Viktor having second thoughts had hurt embarrasses you.

Viktor had been stuck in your very brain tissue since you'd met last week. Partially convincing yourself it was a dream, you almost felt the need to pinch yourself when he came into your shop again, even though you had exchanged those few letters in the meantime and you were sure he was a man of his word. 

"Well, then..." You speak again, before your silence becomes odd and another source of overthinking. "Should we get started?"

- 

Viktor occupies a chair you've pulled out for him at your desk as you clear a space and set everything up.

He pauses his in-depth, intensely passionate run-down of his latest scientific theories—and his desires to achieve more—that give you a glimpse into the intricacies of his mind in order to offer his help. The offer sounds more like a request soaked with curiosity and you're unable bring yourself to decline, so you ask him to pull out three moulds for the gears from the shelf next to your workbench.

Leaning his cane against the edge, Viktor pulls the moulds off of the shelf and shifts them into one arm. 

One by one he carries the moulds out, holding them close to his chest with his right arm as not to drop them, cane in his left hand. He's as gentle with his movements as he can be with the heavy things when he places them onto the thick metal surface. 

"These are your work, too?" Viktor traces the strong edges of one of the forms with a dexterous finger, like he's analyzing every atom that makes up the metal block with his fingertip. With shameful haste, you concentrate on the incredibly simple task of picking out bits of scrap metal and dropping them into the melting pot. 

"Yes, they were made from their own moulds." You pull your gloves on once there's enough metal for three gears. "...A mould cast within a mould." It's a mere, under-the-breath mutter as you slowly pick the pot up by the handle with a steady hand, but you can hear a little amused exhale of laughter from Viktor.

You can't help but to glance up at the sound, at Viktor, and find him already looking at you.

You, rather than the hypnotizing flames of the hearth or the pot of steadily melting metal. Or the hundreds of other things around the shop that slot into the little jar of metalworking intrigue far better than you do. 

He diverts his gaze fast, like he was caught red-handed and trying to act normal about it. There's just a hint of his eyes widening and lips pursing as he lifts a fist to his mouth and clears his throat. 

The wishful implication that it was something more than simple knowledge-hungry interest is a thought quickly shoved away, under the carpet and into the desperate corners of your mind.

The sudden crackle of charcoal reminds you that you're still standing in front of the forge and definitely not paying as much attention to the dangerous pot of hot, near-liquid metal as you should be. There's a sudden urge to drag a hand over your face and sigh as you peel your focus away from Viktor and direct it back to your job. 

It's silent for a few beats until Viktor speaks again. His voice is calm. steady, unaffected. Confident once more. "How do you know Heimerdinger? He hadn't mentioned it to me."

You know you're a fool for wishing he could've sounded as flustered as you feel.

"Ah, I guess I hadn't mentioned that, either.." You keep your eyes on the melting metal. "We met when I was still an apprentice in the Undercity. He needed some parts for a machine he was working on and I took up the job, as my mentor was busy." Before Viktor asks why look for someone in the Undercity? like anyone would, you continue. "My mentor had a good reputation. One that carried over across the bridge. Heimerdinger has been keeping up with me and offering support, ever since." Part of you is upset with yourself that you hadn't visited the professor in a long enough time that he decided a commission would be the only way to get you back in the academy. "I really should have visited sooner."

Viktor hums. It's a low, rumbling sound that seems to come straight from his chest and it snakes up your spine in the form of goosebumps. "Why not stay in Piltover? You have a very good connection there."

"Can't say I have a particularly.. good or logical reason." Carefully, the pot is carried over to workbench, where the moulds are held in place by thick iron clamps. "I just don't really want to, I suppose."

The blocks are positioned in a row and you slowly pour the molten metal into the hole atop each one, doing your best to ignore Viktor's watchful gaze that tracks each of your movements over and over. You don't doubt he's mentally jotting down the motion of your every muscle and each maneuver you make under the How to Cast Gears tab in his mind. You briefly wallow in the self-indulgent hope that there's a little topic marker dedicated solely to you, too. 

"That's a good a reason as any." Viktor replies. And his voice is suddenly right there as he leans in to get a closer look at the process. "Feelings are important, too. Not every decision needs to have a definite, analytical cause that you can pin point behind it."

You keep your head forward.

When the metal seeps into the depths of each mould and leaves some extra space, you follow through with another round of pouring, until each form is full and metal threatens to pool over and out of the spouts. "That's true." 

There's a moment silence as you hang the pot on a thick metal hook by the loop on the handle and turn to Viktor, "Now we wait. Shouldn't take too long. I can make some tea in the meantime. I have black and green tea. ...Or coffee?" 

"Black tea would be nice, thank you." 

At the confirmation, you walk over to the small faux-kitchen in the corner near your desk and pull out a steel kettle.

Viktor looks over the setting metal before he suddenly stands up straight.

He goes back to your desk, where the brown paper bag he brought sits. He leans his cane against the back of his chair and straightens the folded top of the bag, pulling it open and reaching in. Two small cardboard food boxes are pulled out, held in his pale hands, and placed on the tabletop. "Eh... I hope you have a bit of a sweet tooth.."

Wait.

He pulls the lid of one of the little boxes off, revealing a delicious-looking slice of Napoleon cake, and looks back to you. One of the corners of his lips raises just a bit higher and suddenly he's smirking and raising a brow in invitation.

You can't help but pluck his expression out of context, and place it into a more intimate, gentle situation. One where you move closer, close enough for Viktor to place his palm on the back of your head and sigh against your lips as you lean in....

Realizing you've been silent for a beat too long, you do your best to sound normal as you clear your throat.

"You didn't need to— Thank you, but really.." You feel like you're blubbering for words like a fish out of water and you hope that it's just in your imagination. 

"I wanted to." Viktor says this with such ease and maybe a bit too gentle of a tone that it sends little spikes of warmth rushing through your muscle fibres. Again, he's back in that soft setting in your mind, as you stand at the sink and fill the kettle with water. "It's only fair—you're letting me intrude on your work like this." 

"You're not intruding—" There's a pointed look directed your way. "—okay. Thank you. Again." He can have this win.

He waves you off, but there's a little quirk to his lip that evens his smirk out into a satisfied smile, like he's proud he has triumphed a debate with a topic more serious than dessert, and, once more, your eyes immediately flicker towards the movement.

You place two thick ceramic mugs onto your desk and drop a bag of black tea into each one once the kettle is on the fire. Viktor watches as you bring a second heavy chair over with one arm, your hand hooked through the opening in the back, and place it at the short end of the table. The balancing act of two small plates and forks in your other hand ends when you put them on the table, as well.

Viktor's right leg crosses over his left and he leans back, with his elbows on the arm rests and hands resting atop each other in his lap. He seems comfortable and you can't shake the fact that his posture really does make it look like he owns the space, possibly more than you do. And when you're beckoned back to the fire by the kettle's whistle, you reassure him that you don't need his assistance. He's the guest here.

Just sit still and look pretty. You don't say that—but you do think it. 

It's far too bold and far too early, and maybe a bit too simple of a phrase for a bright man like Viktor. You'd do anything in your power to avoid implying the false idea that you're dumbing him down to his outermost layer, his physical appearance. And you keep telling yourself that, that it's too fast, even when he looks at you from under the shadows of his brow bone and eyelashes with a little bit of something in his eyes as you lean in just a bit closer over his shoulder to pour hot water into his cup. You feel a bit like you're putting on a show for him—one he observes with some unidentifiable interest before quickly diverting his gaze to the steeping tea. He plays with his fingers for a few seconds, catching his left middle finger between his right pointer and thumb. He seems almost.... awkward. Nervous. You pray it's because of you and not the logical explanation of it simply being an odd moment between two friends. 

Once you place the kettle onto a cork board, you take a seat like the moment never happened and watch Viktor regain his momentarily lost composure with haste. His hands relax and start to take the small dessert boxes apart, gentle but with enough force to pull the tabs open and lay them flat with his fingers. He moves the slices of cake to the plates with ease this way, after sliding the prongs of his fork under each piece. 

"Here—your slice." Viktor pushes one of the small plates in your direction, and you reach over to pick up the flattened boxes and drop them into the hinged trash can under the desk. 

Picking up your fork, you take a moment to examine the slice of cake in front of you. It looks almost unnaturally appetizing, with its many flakey layers sandwiched between sweet cream and the mixed berries decorating the top. You almost don't want to eat it, since that comes with the pain of ruining the perfect dessert. "Thank you. It looks delicious." 

You wonder if Viktor has a serious sweet tooth. Maybe you should be the one treating him.

-

When you take the moulds apart and pull the gears out, Viktor watches intently. He stands closer, seemingly have gained some more confidence and comfort within your presence. 

"The next step is shaving them down and shaping them into the ideal form." The rasps are held in the top drawer under the workbench, and you pull out a few different sizes and grits. They're placed on the table while you vertically clamp a gear and bring the chairs from your desk over to the bench.

Viktor sits next to you as you pick up one of the bigger rasps and begin filing down the edges of the gear. You do your best to ignore the closeness. 

"Eh.. Would you like to try?" You catch his eye. 

"May I?" This seems so easy to pluck out of context. Again.

"Of course." You stand up, pushing the chair back, and walk around it, gesturing for Viktor to take your spot. He sits, gently taking the rasp from your outstretched hand. His movements are a little unsure as he presses his pointer finger against the flat top and pushes forward, angling his hand upward. "Ah..." For a second, you reach ahead, from your standing position behind Viktor, before you realize that this probably isn't a good idea. "..You need to angle your hand slightly downward. It will make the rasping a bit easier." Thankfully, he doesn't seem to notice your little slip-up and short internal dilemma.

But then he glances over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "You can touch me. I don't mind." His facial expression reads as inviting of all things and it almost feels like an intentional taunt. A tease. Like you've cracked a bit at the seams and he's gathering the spill with his fingers instead of ignoring it like he should, all while giving you this small, innocent smile. "I think I'll understand better that way, since I have no experience with this."

Finding your mouth suddenly unbearably dry, you pause and release a silent breath. Viktor has to know how this sounds.

"Okay." It's all you say before you're leaning over his shoulder again. This time, your hand overlaps his and you hold the tool with him, doing your damn best to focus on helping and not Viktor's sharp little inhale that you can hear clearly with how close you are. You angle your hand and it forces his to do the same, and you push. The rasp files down the excess metal with much less resistance. You pull back before the touch becomes awkward. More awkward than it already feels. 

Viktor is still and silent and he's not looking at you anymore. His grip on the rasp is tight and white-knuckled and his head is facing straight forward. Your gut sinks as you realize you definitely messed up. Fuck. You feel awful.

Before you get a chance to apologize, Viktor leans his head against the knuckles of his free hand and clears his throat. "..Thank you." He lifts his head against and loosens the painful-looking hold he has on the tool. When he begins to rasp again, he finally glances at you again and you nearly loudly release an exhale of relief. There are no harsh lines of malice or disgust in his face. Instead, there's a little smile. "Er, is this correct?"

"Yes. That's perfect." 

You're not sure if it's a good idea to hope the brief bashful-seeming look on his face before he turns his head again isn't only part of your imagination. But you do. More than you should.

[darlingletters]

moth to flame lh44

lewis hamilton x fem!reader

in which y/n y/l/n has a new boyfriend and lewis hamilton can’t help but want to remind her how he knows her better.

warnings: cheating, kissing, intimate touching (like cheek touching and stuff), allusions to the devil’s tango, lemme know if there’s any that I missed please.

an: so I haven’t posted in a while but I am back!! hope everyone is doing well. this is my first time writing something like this so if anyone has any tips on how to make it better please let me know. also sorry for any bad grammar/spelling.

should I make a part 2?

anyway this is based on the song moth to flame by the weeknd & swedish house mafia!! absolutely love this song and honestly I was listening to it the other day and got the idea to write to this. I don’t know if anyone else has done, but if so lemme know.

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it was 3:45 in the morning.

y/n was supposed be asleep but instead she was wide awake sitting on the sofa on the phone talking to her ex boyfriend whilst her current one slept in the next room.

“come y/n/n, you don’t wanna be with this guy. he doesn’t know you like I do baby.” lewis’ voice almost pleads as he talks.

“this needs to stop. I’ve moved on. you should have too.” she says simply, picking at the blanket that covered her.

“please baby-”

“you have to stop calling me that.” she cuts him off “I ain’t your baby anymore. I stopped being that a long time ago.”

“y/n, he doesn’t know what you need. doesn’t know what to give you. I do.” his pleading continues.

she stays silent. she doesn’t even know how to respond to that. it was true. her boyfriend hadn’t been able to please her in the two years they’d been together. and although she’d never admit it out loud, it was driving her insane.

“I bet he even knows he can’t please you because he knows he can never give you what I gave you.” he says smugly. “because he knows, he can never be better than me.”

“arrogance doesn’t suit you.” she mutters loud enough for him to hear.

“I am not being arrogant. I am being honest.” he responds quickly.

“what do you want from me lewis?” she asks slightly frustrated.

“you. I want you. I want you to admit you want me too.” he states like it’s obvious

“I don’t want you.” lies. but he didn’t need to know that.

“just come cover.” he says simply.

“I can’t.” she whispers.

“why? cause your with him?” he says annoyed, “just leave now. you’ll be back in the morning. I just need to see you baby.” he pleads.

“lewis-”

“come on y/n. just lemme be near you. touch you. that’s all i need.” lewis says almost desperately, hints of desire in his words.

“one hour. I’ll come to you.” she says after a moment of silence.

although she should of felt guilty or even hesitated to answer, she didn’t. she wanted to see lewis. needed to see him. lewis was her first love, probably the only man she would ever truly love.

“I’ll send you the address.” he says, his voice completely lustful as he ends the call and sends the address of a hotel.

- 20 minutes later -

she knocks on his door. her mind filled with guilt and hesitation as she waited for the door to open. however, once the door opened and she caught sight of lewis, those thoughts had quietened.

“lewis.” she says breathily.

in response, lewis smirks and makes space for her to enter.

“you said you wanted to see me, you’ve seen me.” she whispers as she enters the room.

“I also said I wanted to touch you and I haven’t done that yet.” he flirts as he shuts the door and locks it.

“lewis-” she mutters as she closes her eyes.

“come on baby, just let me touch you.” he responds, taking off her jacket as he stands behind her.

“I have a boyfriend.” she says firmly, not turning to face him.

“then why are here? hm?” he whispers in her ear as he stays behind her.

“I- I don’t know.” she mutters.

“you still want me.” he responds as she shakes her head. “yes you do, you still love me y/n. I know you do baby, don’t deny it.” he says turning her around to face him only to see her eyes closed.

they stay in silence for a few moments as lewis looks at her, assessing every detail on her face. memorising her features like he used to when they once shared a bed.

“open your eyes.” he says softly. “lemme see those gorgeous eyes I’ve missed to much.” he speaks again stroking her cheek.

she takes a deep breath as she keeps her eyes closed, determined not to fall for him all over again.

“come on baby, just look at me.” he whispers, brushing his lips against her cheek. “just need you to look at me again.” he repeats, kissing her cheek.

“lewis-” she starts but was quickly interrupted when she felt a kiss on her jaw forcing her to open her eyes.

the sight before her made her wish she had never answered his phone call.

there he was cradling her face like she was a precious piece of art as he looked down at her with pure affection and warmth at finally seeing her looking at him.

“there we go baby, there’s those pretty eyes.” he whispers as he rubs his thumb on her cheek. “god i missed you.” he mutters as he leans his forehead against hers.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.” she mumbles as she shakes her head, pulling away from him and forming distance making his smile drop while he reaches out for her.

“leave that guy. come back to me.” he states firmly, his expression almost desperate.

“we are toxic lewis. we fought all the time, we barely saw each other expect to use each other in bed.” she argues back, putting her hands on her hips.

“it’s been three years y/n. we’ve changed. I’ve changed. that guy doesn’t deserve you.” he says simply taking a step forward towards her which makes her step back.

“and you think you deserve me?” she scoffs.

“no I don’t deserve you. no one fucking deserves you y/n/n. but I love you. more then that guy can.” he takes a step forward. she takes a step back. “I care for you more then him.” step forward. step back. “I touch you better then he does.” he whispers, taking a final step forward until she’s pressed up against the wall. “and you and I both know i can please you better then he does.” he finishes looking at her as she leans back against the wall looking up at him with wide eyes as she breaths heavily.

“lew-” she mumbles out as licks her lips and looks at his lips before quickly looking at his eyes.

“let me kiss you.” he whispers as he leans his head forward and places his hand on her cheek. “please baby let me kiss you.” he pleads, their lips inches away.

she pauses as she keeps her arms planted to her side as she looks at him trying to pull away from him. she looks away from his eyes and back to lips.

“fuck it.” she mutters as she runs her fingers though his hair and kisses him making him immediately return it with a soft groan.

he moves his hands into her hair, “god I missed you.” he says against her lips before going straight back to kissing her.

however, as they kissed, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of regret wash over her as she thought back to her boyfriend peacefully sleeping in their bed whilst she made out with her ex boyfriend.

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[drdemonprince]

Hey was gonna ask if u have any readings on managing / moving thru conflict in better ways after reading ur critique of certain Accountability dynamics? Seen this play out twice in the local organizing scene recently, and the most recent one I am like directly implicated in enacting to an extent so reading ur thoughts kinda made me sit back and groan :/ also kinda echoes this shitty moment in childhood where my mom would demand a 4-part to-the-letter apology for shit I didn’t do or didn’t do intentionally and make me rehearse and re-apologize until I got the format right aha. Striking me that I run the risk here of being complicit in just that dynamic thru the bad fawning habit that got beat into me thru childhood ahaa .. also feel like in the past you’ve talked abt conflict-avoidance or fawning and would be interested if u had any of those pieces off the top of ur head but this all involves having to dig up links or titles so take ur time if u are at all interested in responding lol. Devil is knocking on my door telling me I need to look at these habits of mine and start practicing something new -_-

It sounds like you are going through a real moment of reckoning with your own trauma and how childhood dynamics are re-emerging in your current community, which is such important work. I just want to give you some cheers for having it in you to listen to those productive feelings of discomfort and being willing to examine this stuff. It's hard, especially when you've been conditioned to fear moral failure.

I'm still unpacking a lot of this stuff myself, but I think my article on disobedience is relevant, as is my one on PDA

and some of this is because i've been inhaling her archives lately, but I would once again recommend Captain Awkward. Also Albert Bernstein's How to Deal with Emotionally Explosive People. (a book that is flawed, but i think there is a lot of growth away from the puritanical mindset to be found in discerning what is useful from a book you disagree with or has flaws). Lindsay Gibson is a perennial rec from me. id love to hear others' recommendations tho because im a bit of a broken record on these and its an area i still need to grow in a LOTtttt a lot a lot. also half the critiques of this kind of culture are shitty "anti cancel culture" charlatans that i cant recommend