#thing keeping me remotely happy in the moment.

[rapidhighway]

oh so i just spent like 8 hours drawing something just to look for references just now and realize that someones already drawn literally this thing with similar artistic choices and stuff too

[mostly-imagines]

I Missed My Funeral

jason todd x reader

aka you learn what happened to jason

warnings: detailed discussion of how jason died, this is not so happy but i can promise you my jason angst will always have comfort

You wonder if your nightmares are accurate.

Your brain is probably just conjuring up every worst case scenario it can fathom, but maybe there’s truth to one of them. You hope not.

It’s something you haven’t been able to keep out of your mind these past few weeks, and everything seems to remind you of it. When you see his guns, when you’re using a knife to cut up dinner, when you see a car crash on the news, or even when you walk past a fucking pharmacy. The thoughts are everywhere, all the time.

Even as you lay in bed, head on his chest, your mind keeps on drifting where you wish it wouldn’t.

You know he died. He never said it out loud, but you’d seen his autopsy scar plenty of times. You’d always refrained from asking questions, he seemed nervous enough the first handful of times he was around you with his shirt off. Enough time has passed that he’s comfortable being shirtless around you, even okay when you touch his chest. The decrease in boundaries has granted you more solace in one another, but it’s also caused your mind to go wild with possibilities. 

Even now, as you lie against his bare chest, you can’t keep your cat-killing thoughts away.

“You’re being quiet,” He comments, not accusatory, just factual. 

You snap out of reverie, “Sorry, I—”

His hand soothes up and down your arm without pause, “Don’t be sorry. What’s going on?”

“I just…” you look down, thinking over your words. “What…what happened to you?” You ask quietly.

He goes still. 

You immediately regret bringing it up, sitting up from his chest to meet his eyes, “I’m sorry, I don’t need to—”

He shakes his head. The slightest response from him shuts you right up. “No, it’s…it’s okay. Probably should’ve said something by now.”

He nudges your head back down to his chest and you oblige, trying to relax your body against him again. It’s a difficult thing to talk yourself into when his isn’t any more relaxed.

“I…you know I used to be Robin?” His voice is low, hesitant.

You nod.

“Well…I made a mistake—a few mistakes. I wasn’t as careful as I should’ve been and I walked into a trap.”

You’re sure he’s placing more blame on himself than he should, though you don’t know enough to fight him on it yet. You wrap your hand around his forearm that drapes across your chest, a silent affirmation that you’re here with nothing but support and reassurance.

His breath stutters, “The, uh…the Joker set me up and…well, he killed me.”

You don’t want to ask how. You don’t want to know how. But you feel like you have to and it’s selfish and you know that but you can’t leave just it at that. 

It’s a barely audible whisper. You’re not even sure Jason could fully hear the word, but he understands the intent anyway.

His next exhale is shaky, “Yeah, um, that’s the rough part.”

Your head twitches. “That’s the rough part?” You breathe out, scared to hear what’s next.

You can’t see from this angle, but Jason’s eyes are welling over, trying desperately not to let tears fall. It takes him a moment to prepare himself to verbalize the next part. 

“He…he be—” he stops himself. “…He hit me with a crowbar. A lot.”

Oh.

You can physically feel your chest sink.

That’s worse than all the horrifying scenarios you’d built up in your head. That’s…he was beaten to death. For trying to help people. 

You don’t want to leave him in the silence for too long, so you ask the only thing you can think to. 

“How old were you?” 

He drops his head to press his mouth against your head, like he’s trying to ground himself. “Fifteen,” He murmurs into your hair.

Oh.  

You flip over so you’re chest to chest with him and hold him tight. “I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t expecting you to say that. The very very few times he’s had anything even remotely relating to this conversation, the revelation is always met by silence. Or worse.

But you’re sorry. No one’s ever said that to him before. About anything, but especially this. What does sorry even mean in this context? You didn’t do anything, are you sorry for asking? Do you…do you feel bad for him?

He swallows hard, “You’re sorry?”

“Yeah,” You say, furrowing your brow. “You’re a good person, Jay. You’re a really good person and…you didn’t deserve any of the shit that happened to you. Especially that. I hate that you’ve been through so much and I’m sorry.”

He refuses to blink but the tears are threatening to win anyways with nowhere else to go. 

He shakes his head weakly, “It was my own fault.” 

“Jason,” you say seriously. “It was not your fault. You were trying to help someone, weren’t you?”

It takes him a moment to respond to that. “I—yeah. Yes. My mom. My birth mom.” He takes a breath, “He, uh, he was blackmailing her and I tried to help her—I tried. But she gave me up to try and save herself…it didn’t matter in the end.”

While you didn’t know about the history with his birth mom, you’d been sure he’d died helping someone. That’s just who he is—whether he knows it or not.

“There was a bomb and it…” He lets that bit trail off. “I don’t remember the explosion. I think I passed out before it happened.”

He doesn’t remember the explosion. But…

He does remember the other part.

You have to drop your head into his neck so that he doesn’t see the way your eyes well up. 

“Please know you’re a good person. Please,” you plead. “You’re the best person I know.”

“But…” his breath comes out shaky, “No one…no one did anything.” 

The tears fall now, and in spite of the fact that he hasn’t let himself cry in front of anyone since he was ten, he doesn’t feel the usual burning impulse to hide. Not from you.

His voice breaks as he says, “He killed me and he didn’t…”

You sit up straight again and hold his face in your hands, looking him in the eye. “That’s not your fault. Whatever Bruce did or didn’t do, it has nothing to do with you. It’s all about him.”

You gently wipe his tears with your thumb as the weight of his head drops forward, leaving your touch the only thing holding him up.

You know he has…problems with Bruce. You know his death is a sore subject among them for more reasons than the obvious. You also know the Joker still lives and breathes today and there’s some sort of rule or agreement that Jason isn’t allowed out on patrol when he’s loose. 

There’s clear trust issues there, on both sides, but you’ve always had trouble figuring out what exactly Bruce had done to leave Jason so closed off. It pushed him away from his family and caused potentially irreparable scarring to his ability to trust other people. It actually makes a lot of sense that this is what caused the rift between them—you’d been thinking maybe Bruce was the reason Jason died or he couldn’t stop it, but this…this is a different kind of damaging. Fuck, no wonder Jason feels like he doesn’t belong in his family. 

You take a heavy breath, “You’re important. You’re important to me and whatever moral roadblocks Bruce couldn’t get over doesn’t change that—it has nothing to do with how good you are.” 

You’re definitely crying now but at this point it doesn’t matter. It’s more important for him to hear this than for you to pretend like this isn’t as horrible as it is.

He doesn’t look up at you but you can see his own tears dripping off his face. You don’t see him cry very much at all, and definitely not like this.

You sniffle, “Do you wanna switch?”

He nods against your palms and lets you out of his hold to sit up as he shifts lower on the bed and wraps his arms around your torso. You weave one of your hands in his hair and stroke softly. The other rubs soothing patterns on his back, feeling the heaviness of his breath under it.

You kiss the top of his head, “I love you. So much.”

He holds you tighter, murmuring “I love you,” into your chest.

It’s quiet for several minutes after as you both process the words said.

You’re the first to pipe up again, “How did…”

He exhales, “Ah…it’s a little complicated…”

He wants to talk about it another time. That’s fine by you.

Another silent minute passes before, “Bruce isn’t…he’s not a bad…we had a lot of problems after I came back. Both of us. Took a while to get over ‘em.” There’s a beat before, “Still getting over ‘em.” 

You nod, continuing tracing onto his back. His voice is clearer again, stronger.

“Is that why you don’t like being at the batcave?” you ask.

“No,” he murmurs. “It’s ‘cause he keeps the suit on display.”

You look down at him, frowning. “What suit?”

“The robin suit.”

You pause.

“That robin suit?”

He nods.

…what

for clarification bc i think i thought this was canon oh well

🔮🕯️the reblog witch bids you do her bidding 🕯️🔮

[bbokicidal]

"Are you serious...?" - Angst! [Hyung Line SKZ]

Notes : These are all obviously fictional situations, the red flags are just based off of habits we know they have (like Chan's need to be needed, Changbin being blunt/honest.) This post isn't me saying I think they have these red flags, it's just a fun angsty prompt I wrote down. If you don't like it, scroll and don't read.

If people like this - a maknae line will be written! If not, prolly not lol.

Warnings : Angst with no comfort, red flag behavior - some of these aren't even that bad or could be misunderstandings but still.

Maknae Line | "Good Luck, Babe." Part Two!! Here!

BangChan - Brushing off/Having the wrong priorities

One time, it was him forgetting a dinner date - the next, he was staying at the studio late when he was supposed to be meeting your parents for the first time. You let it slide because ultimately you understood that his job took up a lot of his time, and honestly? It wasn't easy to forget about but he had a tendency to take care of you and make up with it by quick gestures before he left the apartment or when he came home; Soft back hugs, quick cuddles before he fell asleep, or kisses in passing. Lately, however, he's been slacking. He'd begun to shrug you off any time you'd touched his arm or hand, nudging you away while he typed on his laptop. He'd tip his head away from yours while laying in bed together or he'd sit further away on the dressing room sofa.

The tipping point was when he was getting ready to go on stage and was standing in wait for the others to be ready. There was still five minutes and Chris looked a bit jittery, so you figured a quick hug or kiss would help ease his nerves. However as soon as you approach and reach to touch his arms, he steps back and keeps his eyes trained on his phone. You reach again, hesitant, and his brow furrows as he maneuvers to the side to get away. "Don't touch me."

Your lips pop apart in surprise. "...Are you serious?"

He looks over, eyes briefly wandering your face before he reaches to fix his in-ear and walks away to the door, disappearing around the corner and leaving you standing there alone. Even the soft touch of Felix's hand on your back as he passed by was warmer than anything you'd felt from Chris in the last two months.

Lee Know - Keeping secrets / Prioritizing Privacy within himself

Minho had a very, very bad habit of not telling you things. In this instance; That he was leaving for tour in two days.

A world. fucking. tour. The only reason you didn't know about it was because you hadn't been out of your home in the last few weeks unless it was for a quick coffee at the cafe or to grab lunch with a friend. Work was heavy during this time of year and as someone who worked remotely, you often spent grueling hours in your office on your computer - hunched, tired, head pounding and back sore.

So you would think that when you entered your bedroom one evening after just finishing up sorting files in your office, you'd be happy to see your boyfriend already there. And you were for a moment, until you realized he was packing three rather large suitcases full of his clothes and necessities. He looks to you, then away, wordless.

"Are.. you.. moving out, or something?" You breathe in a laugh, eyes wandering over Minho as he folds a t-shirt and tucks it into his suitcase with the others.

"No. I have to bring all of my luggage to the company building tomorrow so they can have it at the airport when we leave for Australia."

"Australia?" Your brows quirk. "When -- Why --"

"Tour." He stops his movements to stare over at you, a hint of irritation evident on his face. "We're going on tour for six months."

"Six--" You breathe out, eyes widening. "Six months. And you didn't think to tell me?"

Minho moves to drop a pair of pants in his suitcase. "I would've told you if you could handle the news, maybe. Every time I mention leaving all you do is whine and pout about how long I'll be gone."

"I get upset, yes, what girlfriend wouldn't be upset that her boyfriend is leaving for a week or two? But six months, Minho, I --"

"Don't start." He all but huffs out the words, shutting you up immediately. Minho turns away to continue folding items of clothing on the shared bed and as you watch him do so, you stand and have to wonder if you want to be there when he returns home from the tour.

Changbin - Not knowing the difference between being rude and being blunt

He didn't seem to understand when to stop. Changbin had a tendency to be honest, sometimes to a fault, though you never seemed to complain about it because most of the time it wasn't a big deal. He called Jeongin out for saying the wrong word when singing, or blatantly threw people under the bus when a joke was taken too far.

And he was like that with you, too. He would be honest with you when you asked his opinion of something - was the shirt unflattering? Were you being too loud? Was your makeup bad today?

He'd lay it on you point blank. Yes, the shirt fit a little weird. Yes, you were being a bit loud in his ear. And yes, your eyeliner was going in two different directions. Criticism that was asked for. But when it wasn't asked for? Oh.

"What is your problem?" He bites as he follows you down the hallway to your bedroom. "We have ten minutes, just wear the damn dress and put your shoes on. We have to go."

Your huffs mix with stifled sobs as you rip open your dresser drawer and dig for other options, hands shaking and eyes teary. "You just told me the dress looks ugly, Changbin. I'm not wearing it out if you don't like it--!"

"What does it matter if i don't like it? It's your body, wear what you want!"

"You're my boyfriend!" You retaliate, frustrated. "I want to look nice for you and -- for the group, and I want you to like what I wear, obviously!"

Changbin lets his eyes roll before he turns out of the bedroom doorway and down the hall. You pause to watch him go, listening as he bites about how he doesn't have time for this and needs to leave for the group dinner. You stand in front of your dresser in shock as the door to your apartment slams shut, leaving you in silence and all on your own.

Hyunjin - Being too cocky / Making you feel inferior

It hadn't happened before now, and you weren't sure why it happened at all. But it did.

You'd approached to gently hold onto your boyfriend's arm as he talked to an older idol - someone he looked up to and had just done a collaboration video with. You'd only come up to tell him that the food was delivered and he could have dinner before his stage, but the look he gave you when he finally turned his head was .... wild.

No words were needed. The way his eyes directed to the side you stood at before falling as if looking you over and then immediately looking away; The way the smirk on his lips only widened and his tongue pushed at his canines as he redirected his gaze elsewhere. The soft scoff that left his lips. The way his arm slipped away from your hold in clear nuance that he didn't want you touching him.

It made you feel like less. Like he was pretending he didn't know you - Like he wanted you to bug off and disappear from his line of sight.

Hyunjin had a tendency to put on a confident, bold persona when he was on stage and at first you thought maybe that was why he was acting this way. It was lingering in his body from the dance video he'd just filmed with the other idol and eventually, it would wear off.

But as he turned from you and lifted a hand to fix his hair, he talks to the other as if you're not even there at all. And you have to wonder if it's a persona for the video, or a side of him you had just experienced for the first time. Now you could only hope it wouldn't happen again.

[drabblesandsnippets]

The Bet

Hot Bucky Summer 2024 - Week 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female character (unnamed)

Prompt: “Louder, let everyone hear you.” | [Screaming/Noisy Sex | Gangbang | Exhibiotionism] @buckybarnesevents

Summary: (7k) Bucky’s girlfriend thinks she can stay quiet during sex - Bucky’s more than happy to prove her wrong.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Fluff. Established relationship. Praise. Brief mention of insecurities. Dirty talk. Domination. Oral (f receiving). Fingering. Squirting. (Unprotected) PiV.

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

“Wait,” Bucky says, reaching for the remote yet again. “Why does she even care? I thought she hated him.”

Bucky and his girlfriend are cuddling on their king-sized bed, enjoying another quiet night at home - something their friends like to tease them about, but they’ll never change. Home is where all their favorite things are. 

The moment Bucky pauses the show - for what feels like the hundredth time since they started the episode - she buries her face against his chest, her groan slightly muffled by his shirt.

Bucky’s laughter gently shakes her body as he asks, “What? I’m trying to understand!”

She picks her head up to glare at him, only slightly frustrated, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “You’d understand if we started from the beginning instead!”

She’s been trying to get him to watch her favorite show for months now, and when he randomly suggested they watch the latest episode tonight, she wasn’t going to argue.

She’s regretting that now.

For someone as intelligent as Bucky, he’s oblivious to the inner workings of TV drama.

Bucky blinks slowly at her response, his eyes wide like she just said they should’ve gone to Sam’s impromptu karaoke party. And then he lets out an incredulous laugh, quick to point out, “There are ten seasons of this show! By the time we get caught up, there will be at least five more.” 

Her mouth opens in surprise, and she pushes herself up, one hand on his stomach, her other hand moving to her chest like he’s just wounded her.

“First of all, there are six seasons.” Bucky playfully groans in response, the pout on her face telling him exactly where she’s going with this. “And even if there were ten seasons, you wouldn’t want to watch them with me?”

“Okay.” Bucky’s laughter reaches his eyes as he tosses the remote to the side - it’s clear he’s not going to be pressing play anytime soon.

He looks adoringly at his girlfriend as he sits up with her, his gaze never wavering. “Doll. Sweetheart. Love of my life. I’d enjoy watching paint dry with you.” 

Her smile almost breaks through, but she holds back, patiently waiting for him to continue. He’s either about to make too much sense, or he’s about to dig the hole deeper. 

After a soft, dramatic sigh, he gently tells her, “But, we haven’t even gotten through this episode, and it’s already been over an hour.”

The moment he says it, he has to hold back his laughter, her response exactly what he’s expecting.

Her mouth drops open again, and she laughs at the ridiculous notion that she’s to blame for their time-management issues.

With a quick shake of her head, and resisting the urge to poke him, she quickly points out, “You keep pausing to ask questions!” 

The moment the words are out of her mouth, Bucky seems almost too eager to remind her of several moments that had nothing to do with him. Sure, he’s partly to blame, but most of the interruptions had nothing to do with him.

Like during the first five minutes when she kept getting up because she forgot something. Or when she had to search a familiar looking actor.

“Or,” Bucky continues, his tone gentle, even though he’s clearly enjoying himself. “When you swore you’d heard that one song before-.” 

She cuts Bucky off before he can finish the last thought, shoving one of the pillows in his face, his hands quickly deflecting it.

“I get it!” she says, laughing with him as he pulls the pillow away from her before she can attempt to hit him with it again.

His slightly raised eyebrow tells her he’s waiting to see if she’s going to try to defend herself.

“Fine,” she relents, giving him another exaggerated pout that makes him grin. “I guess no marathons for us then.”

She glances at the TV where the episode is still paused before turning her attention back to Bucky, her own grin growing. “At least,” she starts, her eyebrow raising suggestively. “No marathons of the TV variety.”

Bucky laughs, a surge of arousal rushing over him at the mere suggestion, but has to shake his head, the disappointment clear on his face.

With a pointed look, he reminds her, “Sam’s down the hall.”

Sam materialized on their doorstep a couple of days ago to stake claim to their guestroom once again, this time while in the city for a friend’s birthday. 

There hadn’t been any objections at the time - and there aren’t any now, as far as Bucky’s concerned.

He really doesn’t care if Sam hears them having sex. It’s not like Bucky’s never overheard him before. But Bucky knows his girlfriend. If she thinks Sam might have heard her, it’ll take her weeks before she’ll be able to be in the same room as him without turning red. 

She’s not thinking about any of that, though.

It’s been a few days since there’s even been an opportunity for them to get lost in each other, and she doesn’t want to waste this one.

With a smile and a slight shrug, she simply says, “So? I can be quiet.” 

Bucky’s bark of laughter rings out, and she narrows her eyes at him. Before she can even think about it, he quickly grabs the pillow still sitting between them so she can’t throw it at him and instead flings it to the side, making her laugh. 

“What?” she asks, still feeling confident in her words. “I can be!”

“No,” Bucky says, trying to hold back his laughter as he shakes his head at her. The simple refusal of her statement makes her lips part in a surprised exhale, but before she can make an argument, he adds, “You are entirely incapable of being quiet, doll.”

He can’t help but lean just a bit closer to whisper, “Especially with me.” 

That feels like a challenge to her. And even though she knows Bucky is probably right, she can’t just give in. She’s just as stubborn as he is, and she knows exactly how to play this.

With a quick flick of her tongue to wet her lips, she leans towards him, their mouths almost close enough to touch, and asks, “Wanna bet?”

Her question has the desired effect, causing Bucky’s stomach to flutter with a rush of excitement. She’s a strong, confident, capable woman, and there’s almost nothing she can’t do, especially once she puts her mind to it.

But, there’s not a doubt in his mind that he’ll have her screaming by the end of the night.

Bucky’s hand reaches out to brush a few strands of hair away from her face, his eyes glancing at her mouth as he starts to close the short distance.

Her hope to feel his lips on hers fades quickly, though, Bucky pausing to grin at her, needing to set the terms of their deal first. 

“When you lose, we’re finally getting that swing.” 

For the briefest of moments, she hesitates. The idea of a sex swing excites her, and it’s something they’ve been discussing for months - even going so far as to choose their favorite - but the intimidating feeling of being on display like that has never faded.

Bucky’s only ever made her feel beautiful, and sexy, and desirable, but that doesn’t mean he can completely erase decades' worth of insecurities. 

Bucky doesn’t rush her, not with something like this. He’ll give her all the time in the world to decide if this is a bet she’s willing to take. And if she decides she’s not ready, then he’ll accept that without hesitation, no matter how much he wants her to say yes. 

The anticipation is short lived though, because a smile spreads across her face and before she even says, “deal” he’s already hard, imagining how incredible she’ll look suspended and tied up for him, completely at his mercy.

There are so many possibilities, and the sooner he wins, the sooner he gets to make them all a reality.

Her lashes flutter when Bucky’s hand moves along her scalp, his fingers sliding through her hair to softly grip the strands. She allows him tilt her head back, putting her in the perfect position for him to finally kiss her, and she tries to remain patient. 

It doesn’t matter, though, because after just a soft brush of his lips against hers, he’s pulling away again, the grin on his face causing her to let out a frustrated sigh.

As much as Bucky wants to just jump right into this with her, the faint taste of her on his lips making his cock twitch, he’s taking this bet seriously. 

He meets her gaze, holding her head steady, and says, “We gotta set some ground rules first.”

She breathes heavily but doesn’t move, waiting for him to continue, wanting this just as much as he does.

“No covering your mouth,” he tells her, increasing the hold of her hair, making her gasp softly.

Bucky doesn’t miss the way her thighs tense with arousal, and he groans softly, pulling her closer so his lips brush across the corner of her mouth. “That includes no biting me.” 

She lets out a soft exhale of a laugh, but doesn’t object, no matter how much she enjoys sinking her teeth into him when he’s fucking her hard.

And considering this bet and what’s at stake here, there are no plans to go slow tonight. 

With a slight nod of her head, his fingers limiting her movement, she agrees, but she’s unable to stop herself from still being a bit of a brat. “Is that all?”

Bucky pulls back, narrowing his eyes at her, his breathing slowing down as he fights the urge to smile. He loves when she pushes back - it’s her way of telling him not to go easy on her. 

“No,” he answers her, his vibranium hand suddenly coming up to wrap around her throat.

The brief flash of surprise that crosses her face is quickly replaced by a look of pure desire, her trust in him radiating off of her. It encourages him to keep going, his need for her reaching new heights.

“You’re also not allowed to tell me to stop just because you can’t be quiet.”

Her body tingles with pleasure, just like it always does when he takes charge, and she has to bite back a moan as the ache between her thighs intensifies.

She’s playing with fire, but all it does is excite her, even as she briefly wonders if she has an ounce of a chance of winning this bet. 

The moment he asks if she agrees to the terms, she answers without hesitation, telling him, “Yes.”

With a cheeky grin, she adds, “And I look forward to winning.”

That’s all Bucky needs to hear and he pulls her against him, crashing his mouth against hers, his tongue immediately demanding entrance.

With his hand around her throat and his fingers gripping her hair, he keeps her in place so he can kiss her, leaving her breathless and desperate for more.

As much as Bucky enjoys taking his time with her, he’s on a mission tonight.

There’s a primal urge to claim her, to prove how quickly he can make her lose control. And there’s no doubt that he’s going to win this bet.

Within just a couple minutes, Bucky has her naked and writhing underneath him, her head resting on a pillow.

His lips follow a slow trail from her neck to her breasts, taking a moment to focus on her sensitive nipples, giving them both the attention they deserve, his ears trained on the soft noises of pleasure already leaving her. 

Her hands never leave his body, needing something to hold onto to keep her focus, her fingers gently tugging at his hair while her other hand grabs at his shoulder, pressing against the defined muscle.

She’s already having to force herself to take slow, deep breaths, the occasional shift of hips causing his hard cock to tease along her wetness, making her want to beg for more.

She remains as quiet as possible though, her eyes drifting closed as Bucky’s mouth travels lower, taking his time to place tender kisses all over her soft stomach, reminding her how much he loves every single inch of her.

He doesn’t even care that she’s not looking at him right now. He’s just grateful for the way she gives herself to him, trusting him to treat her like she deserves.

With one last glance up, Bucky eagerly settles between her thighs, the smell of her filling his nostrils, making his mouth water.

The soft groan that leaves him makes her hips twitch, and he pauses for a second to take her in, both hands coming up to keep her spread wide for him.

She’s already so wet, the sight of her swollen clit just begging to be licked, and he can’t wait to hear her come apart for him.

The first slow swipe of his tongue along her slit causes her body to tense, the sudden sensation making her breath hitch, almost making her forget all about the bet.

Bucky learned her body so quickly when they first became intimate, and now, the familiar swirl of his tongue around her clit immediately makes her back arch, a moan getting trapped in her throat.

He loves the taste of her, happy to spend as much time between her thighs as she lets him, and even though that’s not what tonight is about, he still takes a moment to appreciate the delicious meal she’s offering him.

He alternates between long licks, and fucking her with his tongue, grinding his soft beard against her pussy to get as deep as he can, as if starved for more of her. 

Despite Bucky’s own noises of pleasure getting louder, hers remain low, and it’s not long before the desire to hear her scream builds inside of him again.

Without warning, his mouth suddenly closes over her clit, his tongue resuming the perfect rhythm against the bundle of nerves and his hands grips her thighs, holding her in place.

She cuts off the harsh gasp that spills out of her, and her fingers tighten their grip on his hair as her hips move against his mouth, chasing her pleasure.

Despite half her focus on keeping her sounds under control, he’s still able to quickly bring her to the edge, and her other hand grips the bedsheet as the tension suddenly snaps.

As much as it turns Bucky on to watch her and feel her come for him, there’s something wrong about not hearing her as she loses control.

He refuses to pull away though, his mouth working her through her orgasm, his hands holding her, letting her ride out the waves. His own hips grinding against the mattress, his cock hard and heavy, aching for relief.

When she becomes too sensitive, he takes pity on her and quickly kisses back up her body, giving her a moment to catch her breath.

Her need for him is too overwhelming though, and within seconds, she meets him in a kiss, moaning at the taste of herself on his tongue. 

She doesn’t allow herself to get lost in the moment for too long, her body craving more, and she reaches between them, her fingers wrapping around his thick cock, ready to remind him that she still has a chance of winning this bet. 

Bucky welcomes her touch, his hips thrusting forward, groaning against her mouth.

She takes advantage of his pleasure-filled state, rubbing her thumb across the head of his cock, the tip slick with his arousal, and proudly states, “I told you I could be quiet.” 

The laugh he makes in return sends a shiver down her back, and she can barely quiet the soft squeak as he pulls her hand away, his fingers wrapped around her delicate wrist.

He’s always careful not to cause her any real discomfort, but the look he gives her still makes her freeze, wondering what she’s gotten herself into.

“Oh sweetheart,” Bucky chuckles, slowly pinning her hands over her head as he starts to grind his cock against her. “We’re barely getting started.”

Her body tenses in anticipation, expecting him to thrust inside of her, but he doesn’t change his pace, his eyes taking in how beautiful she looks, all desperate and needy, her skin flushed.

Even after all this time with him, she’s still not used to all the attention he gives her, and she’s grateful that he allows her to move with him.

Each shift of her hips makes her breath quicken just a bit more, the length of his cock sliding along her clit, and she’s pretty sure she could come just like this. 

The thought of it makes her body pulse with arousal, and she quickly nods her head, breathing quickly. “Please,” she whispers, her fingers flexing under his hold.

He grins down at her, tightening his grip slightly, keeping the same pace, watching her fight between completely giving in and trying to silence her noises.

Bucky wants the noises. He needs them. He needs to hear her whines and moans and cries as he brings her pleasure.

She’s clearly determined to win this, but so is he. And the moment he feels her almost reaching the edge, he suddenly stops, pulling his hips out of reach of her.

She has no idea how, but she manages to keep the whine of “no” down, her voice almost betraying her. Bucky’s soft laughter helps keep her focused, though, and she glares at him, breathing heavily.

Her mouth opens in protest, but before she can even think of how to react, his vibranium hand closes around her throat, pushing her down against the bed. 

“Oh god,” is all she can say, her voice trembling as she tries to mentally prepare herself for whatever Bucky has planned.

He knows her too well though, and the moment he moves, she almost loses the bet.

His right hand slides between her thighs, and in one smooth motion, he fills her with two fingers, curling them inside of her to press against her front wall.

She bites her lip hard enough to almost draw blood, but she’s able to dampen her cry of pleasure as she throws her head back, both hands now gripping the sheet. 

Bucky gives her no time to gather her composure before he starts moving, the heel of his hand rubbing hard against her clit while his fingers stroke over her g-spot.

She may not be speaking, but her body is talking, the sounds of her wetness filling the air. He growls his approval and leans over her, his metal fingers twitching against her throat.

“Listen to that,” he murmurs, watching her as he quickly works her towards another orgasm. “Your pussy’s talking to me, doll. Just begging for more.”

She pulls her lips inward between her teeth, biting down as she breathes heavily through her nose, the pleasure starting to make it harder to focus.

His words aren’t making it any easier, but she’s grateful that he doesn’t make her look at him, her eyes currently shut tight, her head pressing into the pillow underneath her. 

There’s something so intoxicating to Bucky about being in charge of her pleasure, and he knows he’ll never get enough of her.

For just a moment, he forgets about the bet, his eyes taking in the way she writhes underneath his touch, everything about her encouraging him to keep going. Her back arching, her legs spread, hips thrusting in time with his hand as he fucks her deep and hard.

Except, she’s still keeping her noises to a minimum. Even as she starts to breathe quicker, the gasps turning to shuddering sighs, she manages to somehow keep it all under control.

And it’s starting to get under Bucky’s skin. He can’t be a gracious loser when it comes to this.

That primal feeling resurfaces in Bucky, the urge to take her hard and fast igniting inside of him. But, first, he needs to make her come again.

He quickly moves his left hand down her body, pressing hard against her clit, giving him the ability to fuck her harder with his fingers.

Her eyes roll back in her head, and she nearly screams, his fingers deep inside of her, curled and rubbing hard against the spongy tissue.

She can feel the pressure building, and she grabs her legs, her hands wrapping around her ankles to keep her spread wide for Bucky.

“That’s it,” he encourages her, just as breathless as she is, his body humming with pleasure. “Can feel you, sweetheart,” he moans, grinding harder against her clit, knowing exactly what she needs to get over the edge. “Doing so good for me. Gonna come all over my fingers, aren’t you?”

She quickly nods her head, but she can’t trust herself to speak. She can barely breathe anyway as her fingers dig into her ankles, the slight pain giving her something to focus on, reminding her of the stakes here.

She’s so overwhelmed, and he hasn’t even fucked her with his cock yet. She has no idea how she’s going to win this bet.

She can’t think about that right now though, because her entire body suddenly tenses, and she squirts, coating his hand with her juices.

She barely hears Bucky’s groan of approval, but his words of praise quickly flood her brain, and she comes for him, using every bit of energy to not cry out.

“Good girl. Fuck, look at you,” his deep voice adds to the pleasure still washing over her and she lets go of her ankles to reach out for Bucky, needing him.

He quickly joins her, resting some of his weight on top of her, letting her cling to him as her body shudders, her hips riding his fingers. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs against her neck, his fingers buried deep inside of her, savoring the way her pussy pulses with each wave of pleasure. “I think I should I make you come again, just like this.”

He’s only half-serious, his cock aching to be inside of her.

Her expected whine makes him laugh, and he curls his fingers inside of her again, easily finding that spot that makes her tremble.

She’s still sensitive from her orgasm, but her mind is starting to clear, and she immediately shakes her head. “Absolutely not.” Another breathy moan, and then, “I think you should let me suck your cock.”

Bucky groans, allowing himself to briefly consider it, but kisses her softly and tells her no.

As much as they both enjoy when he fucks her mouth, it’s not going to help him win this bet. Her mouth needs to be free to make all those beautiful noises.

“I think you’re forgetting the point here, doll.” he teases, sitting up between her thighs and slowly sliding his fingers out of her dripping pussy.

She doesn’t even try to stop the soft whine from the loss, and he grins at her, watching her as he lifts his fingers to his mouth, licking the delicious taste off both digits. 

The sight of him clearly enjoying himself makes her want to bring him more pleasure, and she leans up to kiss him again, welcoming the taste of her wetness on his lips and tongue.

When her teeth playfully bite at his bottom lip, his fingers tangle in her hair to pull her head back, meeting her grin with one of his own.

“How about I put my cock somewhere else?” 

The smile on her face grows, despite her slight disappointment at not getting to have him in her mouth. And as Bucky rests back on his knees, she slides her hands down to touch herself, giving him an even better view of her wet pussy. 

The action immediately makes him groan, and his hands move to her ankles, gripping them to steady himself. After all this time, she still has the ability to catch him off guard, and it makes him love her even more.

They both watch as he moves his hips forward to slide his cock along her slick slit, almost slipping inside her before gliding up to tease her exposed clit.

The movement sends a jolt of pleasure through both of them, and she lets out a soft whine, shifting her hips to try to guide him to where he needs to be.

It’s futile, though. Bucky’s doing this on purpose. Trying to make her forget the bet, but she keeps herself under control, breathing heavily through her nose, proving to him she’s just as dedicated as he is.

With a longing look on her face, and another shift of her hips, she pleads, “Fuck me.”

Bucky’s fingers tighten around her ankles, but he stays exactly where he is, continuing to tease her with the head of his cock. “You sure you’re ready?”

His gentle tone makes her laugh softly, but he shakes his head at her, his eyes dark with desire.

“I’m serious, doll.” His breathing is just as heavy as hers, his body tense from trying to control himself. “I’m planning to fuck you until you scream for me.”

She’s far from making objections, her need for him overwhelming. As if he needs any more encouragement, she licks her lips and raises her brow at him, declaring yet again, “I’m going to win this bet.”

His laugh sends another shiver down her spine and a pulse of pleasure straight to her clit. There’s no way she’s winning this bet, but she’s going to have fun losing.

Bucky angles his hips, their bodies fitting together perfectly, and as the tip of his cock pushes against her entrance, he tells her, “Arms over your head.”

She narrows her eyes at him but doesn’t question it, knowing there’s a good reason for it. And she’s excited to find out what it is. 

The moment her hands grip the pillow under her head, he smirks at her and snaps his hips, burying himself inside of her.

A harsh gasp leaves her, but it’s not loud enough to make her lose and she throws her head back, biting her lips to keep her mouth shut as he starts to fuck her hard. 

Bucky pushes her legs back, spreading her wider as he finds a quick rhythm. His own noises of pleasure get louder, but he does nothing to quiet them.

He knows how much she craves the sounds he makes, the pleasure she gives him like nothing he’s ever experienced. 

“Oh fuck,” he groans, trying not to squeeze her ankles too hard, “you feel so good, baby. So wet, oh my god.”

She can’t look at him. She clings to the pillow underneath her, her forearms cradling her head as she does everything in her power not to cry out. His cock feels so good inside of her, reaching all the spots that make her toes curl and her body shudder in pleasure.

Bucky is more than desperate to hear more from her. The soft gasps and whimpers doing nothing to quell the ache to experience her pleasure at its fullest.

He’s used to her cries and moans filling the room, and while everything about her is telling him she’s enjoying herself, it’s not nearly enough. 

“Stay just like that,” he orders her, sliding his hands down, squeezing her thick thighs as keeps moving, his hips never faltering.

She’s in no mood to disobey, willingly letting him fuck her towards yet another orgasm. Bucky can feel her tightening, her walls trying to keep him in place on each outstroke.

“That’s it. You wanna come for me again? Wanna come all over my cock?”

She can’t trust her voice and all she can do is nod her head, finally opening her eyes to look up at him.

He immediately growls and leans forward, letting her thighs spread around him as his hands go to her bouncing tits, making her back arch, allowing him even deeper.

Bucky curses again, her wetness allowing him to bottom out each time, and he can feel his own orgasm building, the sight of her writhing underneath him almost too much.

“Fuck,” he growls, his right hand moving to her stomach, loving the feel of his fingers digging into her soft flesh, his hips never slowing. “You feel so good. Come on, come for me, doll, let me feel you.”

All it takes is one brush of his thumb over clit and she comes again, her fingers sore from her tight grip the pillow. But all she can focus on is the electric current of pleasure rushing through her, the tension causing her to clench her teeth.

She resists the urge to press her face against her arm, and somehow manages to make it through the intense pleasure with only making soft, breathy moans.

It’s at this point that something in Bucky snaps.

He fucks her through the waves of pleasure, waiting until her body finally starts to relax, before he suddenly pulls out.

The whine she makes is louder than all the sounds she’s made tonight, and she opens her mouth in surprise, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“I’m not quite done with you yet,” he promises her, the gruffness of his voice making her hips shift.

Bucky chuckles softly and runs his hands over her body, his fingers dancing over her throat before sliding down between her breasts. 

Before he does anything else, he checks in with her. “You ready to keep going?”

Her words come easy this time. “Yes, please," she smiles, lifting her hips again as if to entice him.

He has other plans though, and instructs her to turn over, the roughness of his voice returning. The excitement on her face is clear as she quickly obeys, getting into position - head down, ass up.

Bucky takes a moment to appreciate the view, the desire to claim her burning him up. He controls his breathing and reaches out, running his palm along her back and down to her ass, relishing the way she immediately spreads her thighs even more.

“Good girl,” he praises her, his voice deep with admiration. And then he slaps her ass, hard enough to make her gasp, and she turns her head to look over her shoulder at him.

They grin at each other, and he does it again, making her groan softly, but she pushes back, welcoming the sting. 

Bucky’s hand rubs across the pinkening skin as his metal hand slips between her thighs, teasing her with his fingertips.

She’s more than ready for him to keep fucking her, but he still asks again, needing to hear her give him permission one final time.

As soon as she utters the soft plea of ‘yes, please’ he’s lining up behind her, his hand wrapped around his thick shaft to guide himself back to her welcoming pussy.

He wastes no time and sinks into her with a soft groan, her hot, slick walls enveloping his hard cock like she was made for him. 

Bucky takes her slowly at first, the feel of her pussy fluttering with each long stroke of his cock making it difficult to focus.

She’s so sensitive, and with each deep thrust, her soft noises start to get just a bit louder, reminding him he’s on the right track.

His tender touches start to become a bit firmer, and as her hips begin to meet his with more force, he suddenly grips her waist.

Bucky plans to do whatever it takes to elicit louder noises from her, and without warning, he starts to piston his hips, making her take all of him, over and over. 

This time she’s expecting it though and has just enough time to grit her teeth, each thrust making her gasp, her breath coming quick and shallow.

It’s taking all of her focus not to give in and let herself lose the bet already; she’s just too stubborn to give in, no matter how good Bucky is making her feel.

The irritation grows in Bucky, her lack of noise starting to feel personal, and his hands move to her hips, grabbing fistfuls of her ass as he starts to fuck her harder.

He watches as her back arches and her fingers grip the bedsheets, each deep thrust causing her legs start to shake again. She’s almost there. He can feel it.

She whines his name, and her hands scramble to grip the edge of the mattress, keeping her head turned, refusing to bury her face in the covers.

“Oh sweetheart,” he murmurs, the tenderness a stark contrast to the way he’s fucking her. “Gonna squirt for me again, aren’t you?”

All she can do is nod her head, her eyes shut tight, trying her best to keep her noises under control. But, with each thrust of his cock, she feels herself slipping, her skin breaking out in a light sheen of sweat. 

It’s like a breath of fresh air to Bucky, watching as she starts to slowly lose control.

Any other time, he might take it easy on her, wanting her to be proud of herself for doing something she didn’t think she could do.

But, he’s way past that point now. 

Now, all he wants is to make her lose control and scream for him. And he has one more trick up his sleeve.

Bucky’s strong hands slide up along her back as he raises himself up, placing his feet flat on the bed in order to crouch over her, keeping his cock buried inside of her.

“Oh god,” she breathes, her eyes rolling back in her head as she tries to prepare herself.

She loves this position, but it’s going to be her downfall. And it’s clear Bucky knows it, because the moment he starts moving his hips, he starts talking to her, the growl in his voice pushing her closer to the edge.

“That’s right. Told you I was gonna fuck you until you scream for me.” 

He fucks her hard, the angle making his cock rub against her g-spot with each stroke, and she can feel the coil in her belly tightening.

She can no longer stop her noises from getting louder, and without thinking, she makes a desperate move to regain some semblance of composure.

With a quick pull of her elbows, she buries her face between her forearms, trying to quiet the cry of pleasure as she reaches a breaking point.

Bucky won’t allow it though, and grabs a fistful of her hair, forcing her head to the side.

“Fucking take it,” he demands, grunting with each hard thrust, “fucking take all of me.”

It’s too much. She can’t hold on anymore and her body tenses, her tightening pussy almost pushing him out.

“That’s it!” he growls. “Come for me, baby! God, I love you so fucking much.”

She sobs as her stomach tenses and she squirts, each hard thrust causing her wetness to run down her thighs and soak the sheets.

He talks her through it, like he always does, telling her how beautiful she is, how good she feels, and how much he loves making her come for him. 

Even as her body pulses from the aftershocks, Bucky keeps going, slowing his pace as he settles back to his knees behind her, trying to help her come down slowly.

She was loud, but not enough to satisfy his need to hear her scream.

“I need you to give me one more,” he murmurs, running his hands along her sweaty back. 

She whispers his name and shakes her head, her trembling limbs trying to give out on her.

Bucky’s quick to guide her onto her back again, this time slipping a pillow underneath to raise her hips.

He’s already fucked her senseless - she’s barely able to keep her eyes open - but he knows she has one more to give him.

Bucky starts slow again, giving her time to come back down, waiting until she can finally look up at him, still clearly cock-drunk.

He murmurs words of praise, telling her once again how beautiful she is, splayed out like this for him, her arms over her head, her thighs spread wide.

“You’re gonna look so good in that swing, sweetheart. All tied up and on display for me.”

Whatever insecurities that usually run through her mind are absent, and she moans at his words, starting to slowly move her hips against him, welcoming his cock back inside of her.

The image of being completely at his mercy makes her body pulse, and Bucky smiles down at her, sliding his hands along the sensitive skin of her thighs, just taking another moment to truly appreciate her. 

At this point, it doesn’t matter how he makes her come. She’s going to scream for him either way, all her inhibitions now gone that the bet is over.

And that frees him up to give her everything she could possibly need. “Tell me how you wanna come this time.” 

She breathes heavily and just slowly shakes her head for a moment, still not sure she has anything left to give.

But, if there’s anyone that can pull it out of her it’s Bucky. 

He waits patiently, fucking her slowly, barely pulling out before sliding back in until he’s completely sheathed. “Do you want me to keep fucking you like this?”

His fingers slowly move to her pussy, watching the way her body takes him so perfectly as his thumb finds her clit.

“Or do you need something else?” 

The shaking of her head turns into nods and she tries to find her voice as her back arches, her body welcoming the intense pleasure.

Her body is so sensitive, like every nerve ending is exposed, and she’s still not sure what she needs. Bucky will give her whatever she asks for, but she’s too lost in the moment to answer him.

As much as he’s enjoying the unfiltered sounds coming out of her, he needs her to talk. He needs to know she’s still with him, that she truly wants him to keep going.

“Sweetheart.”

There’s a slight edge to his tone, and she meets his eyes again, a soft smile forming on her face.

He grins down at her and nods encouragingly, “I need your words.”

She nods again, but as she starts to say “I want-” her words are cut off by a soft whine, Bucky’s cock bottoming out inside of her, finding that spot that makes her legs shake.

They both laugh softly, and she shakes her head at him before she finally finishes her thought, “I want you to come with me.”

A deep moan leaves Bucky at her request, his grip on her thighs tightening as he resists the urge to start moving faster.

“Is that what you need?” he asks, starting to lean forward, peppering kisses along her breasts and collarbone.

Her answer of ‘yes’ comes quickly and he starts to rock against her, grinding his pelvis against her clit.

“Yes,” she repeats, the simple word causing pleasure to race up Bucky’s spine.

He drops to his elbows, caging her in, and they both start moving at the same time, her legs wrapped around him, encouraging his hard thrusts.

“Yes, fuck me, oh my god.” She doesn’t care how loud she is anymore, the cries and moans leaving her without a second thought. 

Bucky’s already close, her pussy practically milking his cock, each flutter making him groan. But, he’s a man of his word and he’s not going to let himself give into the pleasure until she comes one more time.

“You feel so fucking good,” he moans, panting above her, unable to tear his gaze away, committing this moment to memory. “Such a perfect pussy, baby. Just made to take my cock.”

She clings to him, her nails scratching down his back, sure to leave marks. But he welcomes it, the sting adding to his pleasure, watching as she cries out, her body starting to tense, her final orgasm building.

When she whines his name, he hears the apprehension in her voice, as if to warn him that this one’s going to overwhelm her. 

Bucky’s fingers slide through her hair, and he cradles her head, forcing her to keep looking at him.

“It’s okay,” he promises her. “Give it to me. Give me everything.” Her back arches and her pussy tightens, the sounds of her wetness filling the air as she starts to squirt again. “Fuck yes, come for me!”

And she does, her breath hitching as the sudden explosion of pleasure rocks her body.

Bucky doesn’t stop, moving hard and fast against her, forcing his cock to stay inside of her, even as her walls clench around him, almost pushing him out.

She cries out, finally giving him what he’s been working towards all night, her scream of pleasure sure to wake the neighbors. 

Bucky can barely hold back, his own orgasm threatening to consume him, but he fights through it, giving her a few more seconds of his attention.

“That’s it, scream for me. Let everyone fucking hear you.”

But then she’s begging him to come too, her sobs of pleasure pushing him over the edge, and he kisses her hard, his tongue sliding along hers.

All his senses are consumed by her, every single part of him entirely overwhelmed with pleasure, the rhythm of his hips faltering as his cock pulses, filling her up with his cum.

After a few more lazy thrusts, their hips finally come to a stop, and he groans against her mouth, collapsing on top of her. 

They’re both panting, their arms wrapped around each other, Bucky’s weight a welcome feeling as he starts to nuzzle her neck, breathing in her scent.

They take their time coming back down, murmuring words of love and affection, their lips eventually meeting again in a soft, tender kiss. 

She barely registers him rolling them over, but makes a soft noise of protest when he slowly pulls out.

Bucky’s own sigh joins hers, the loss of her warmth making his softening cock twitch. If it wasn’t so late, and she wasn’t clearly spent, he’d happily go another round.

For now, they snuggle quietly, her head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat while his fingers make slow, soothing strokes along her back.

Bucky’s sensitive ears pick up the steady rhythm of her heart as well, the sound a constant comfort to him even on his hardest days. 

Eventually, they finally move, sharing another brief kiss and exchanging words of love yet again, neither of them ever tiring of hearing it - or professing it to each other.

But, they need to clean up, his release still leaking out of her, leaving her slick - and he’s not much better off, their combined fluids matting the hair at the base of his cock.

Bucky’s first to finish in the attached bathroom, and he’s already in bed when she returns, the covers pulled up to his stomach, his phone in his hands.

The silly grin on his face makes her laugh, and she climbs onto the bed, asking him, “What are you up to?”

He gives her a quick glance, his bright smile making her heart flutter as he returns his attention back to his phone.

“I’m purchasing that sex swing.” 

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

Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist

Next part: The Prize

Main Masterlist

[ithebookhoarder]

Special Delivery (Spencer Reid x F!Reader)

Description: Something's different about Reid and no-one knows what. However, a surprise delivery to the BAU may just have the answer...

Warnings: Food references, mentions of mental health, mentions of medical procedures, references to smutty behaviour, Spencer being adorable

Masterlist

“Ok. Am I the only one who’s noticed something’s different with Reid lately?” Morgan remarked, watching as the said boy-genuis made his way across the bullpen and over to his desk. 

“Yeah,” Emily hummed, watching the young agent over the rim of coffee cup. She had to admit it - as much as it annoyed her - Morgan was right; Spencer has definitely been acting different. If anything, she was surprised it had taken them all this long to say anything. 

Normally, they were all over each other the moment they noticed anything even remotely different about each other. Hell, she’d barely taken a step off the elevator, after getting an extra few inches cut off at her latest haircut, before the team were quizzing her about possible life changes and whether or not they needed to be worried about her. 

It was a hazard of working with profilers for a living; it was almost impossible to keep anything a secret. No wonder they were all intrigued and slightly confused by the fact that none of them had been able to pinpoint what was going on with their friend. 

The most notable difference was the gradual disappearance of the dark circles under his eyes. Reid also seemed happier in general, less quiet and reserved when talking to others, and it was starting to make agents talk. 

Morgan and Emily stood up straighter as JJ walked over to join the unofficial gossip session. She took one look at the pair and knew immediately what they were whispering about. 

“Are you talking about Reid?”

“Oh yeah,” Morgan grinned, “my money’s on him having finally found someone.”

Emily choked, seemingly as a result of inhaling her coffee at the grand statement. “What?”

“Oh, come on, Miss ‘super spy’. Just look at him,” he teased. “He’s been distracted. He’s all goo-goo eyed and he’s been leaving this place at a normal hour. Like… tell me that doesn’t scream ‘I got a date’.”

“What? It could be loads of things. It doesn’t have to be a date, right JJ?”

“He’s probably just happy. We’ve all been getting more sleep lately and our paperwork is non-existent at the moment,” JJ murmured, reaching past the pair of them to grab for the coffee pot. She was clearly doing her best to try and put this line of questioning to rest. She’d always been the first to protect the younger agent she now saw as a little brother. “Besides, we all know he’s not interested in dating, he hasn’t been since…. Well, you know.”

Morgan groaned. “But what about the secret texts, JJ!” he protested, ignoring the look Emily shot him in return. “He’s been glued to that phone of his and keeps giggling like a school kid. Then there’s the lunches! I know he’s always been organised and likes things a certain way, but damn. His lunches have been like next level - and actually healthy? And I swear he’s had jello like every day.”

JJ rolled her eyes. “You’re basing your profile on jello? Is that it?” 

“Well, no I mean… did you not hear the part about the texting and the taking secret calls and the fact he didn’t come out for drinks last night-”

“-Can’t we just be glad for him? Whatever is going on, it’s good for him. Let’s just drop it, ok? He’ll tell us when he’s ready if there’s anything to share.”

“JJ’s right,” Emily echoed. “Reid’s just … happy. End of.”

By the way Morgan frowned it looked like it definitely was not the end of this conversation, but he never got the chance to argue. In fact, he was interrupted as the main doors opened next to them and a rather lost looking receptionist hurried through. 

Normally, this wouldn’t have been worth noticing but all three of them spun around at the sound of him calling out the name, “Agent Reid? uh… Is Agent Reid here?”

“Oh, uh, here!” Spencer shouted, soundly vaguely like he was taking roll call. It didn’t help that he shot his arm up in the air too, almost falling off his desk chair as he lurched to his feet and hurried over. “That’s… that’s me - and it’s Dr Reid, but it doesn’t matter. How can I help?”

“Oh, uh, there’s a Y/N at reception for you,” the unfortunate messenger managed, gesturing back the way they’d came. “I told them to wait whilst I came to check with you as they’re not on your visitor list-”

Spencer didn’t even let the poor man finish. He was already racing for the door before the man had even made it to the end of the sentence. Needless to say, the others were quick to follow, with Morgan smugly boasting “told you soooo” as he went. 

There was no way on earth they were missing this and considering Hotch and Rossi hadn’t arrived yet it wasn’t like they were about to get their asses handed to them for missing their briefing either. 

Despite the amount Spencer had told you about the BAU, you were still surprised by how different the FBI offices were to what you’d imagined. 

The offices were larger and the sheer number of people walking about in suits and carrying a side arm made you feel even more nervous, and that was already a problem considering you were stood there wearing neon blue scrubs, embroidered with jungle animals on the pocket. 

You were like a walking, flashing sign, screaming ‘outsider - does not work here’.  Thankfully, you weren’t going to be there long. You were only swinging by on your way to work, hoping to catch your utterly perfect - and utterly forgetful - boyfriend, before the start of your shift. 

Speaking of Spencer, you had only been standing there for possibly five minutes when you saw him barreling through the doors towards you. 

“Hey, Spence-“

“Y/N? Honey? What’s going on?” he gushed, hurrying over and taking your face in his hands. You could see his wide eyes frantically scanning every inch of you, looking for some kind of problem or sign that you were not ok. “Is everything alright? What are you doing here?”

You felt your cheeks warm at the sudden display of concern, very much aware of the scene your wonderful boyfriend was making. Spencer wasn’t normally the most affectionate in public, preferring to save those rare moments for when the two of you were alone. The fact he was so worried about what might have brought you to the FBI on a Tuesday morning was touching and made your heart swell. 

“I’m fine, Spence. Don’t worry-” 

“Then what are you doing here?” 

“You forgot something,” you soothed, pulling back and reaching into your satchel. It was impossible to miss the way his face reddened as you pulled out a neatly labeled Dr Who Tupperware by way of explanation. “I’m here because you were in such a rush this morning that you forgot your lunch.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’,” you teased. “I couldn’t exactly let you go hungry so I thought I’d drop it off on my way to work. I don’t start till later as I’m covering Amelia’s shift as she’s visiting her sister in Boston, so I thought I’d swing by.”

Sure, Spencer was an adult and you could have let him just buy something from the cafeteria or order something in for lunch, but considering how much effort he had gone to to cook with you the day before you felt bad letting it go to waste. 

He’d been so proud of the way the recipe had turned out, following the instructions and your guidance with extreme precision and care. The result had been a rather tasty looking dish - and it had the added benefit of being healthy too. You were always worried that Spencer seemed to think fast food, like Pizza, was a food group. Then again, he had been forced to be an adult pretty fast and had been in college so young that it wasn’t a surprise that no-one had been there to teach him about cooking and eating right. He had been too focused on his studies to even think about anything else.  

It was something he had been working on since you’d got together and now cooking had become one of your favourite date night activities. It didn’t hurt that you often ended up spilling food all over yourselves and needing to shower together - it was just a lovely bonus. In fact, your screensaver was now a picture of you and Spencer, covered in flour, and beaming ear to ear. 

“Thank you, that… that’s so nice,” Spencer stammered, “but I feel bad. You didn’t need to go out of your way and bring it to me.”

“As I say, it’s on my way to work. It’s no trouble.”

“Well, still-“

“Hey, pretty boy!” 

Spencer froze. 

“You gonna introduce us to your friend, or what?”

Spencer opened his mouth but instantly closed it again. You knew by the way he rolled his eyes and began muttering under his breath that whoever had shouted that had definitely been talking to him. 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Pretty boy, huh?” 

“Don’t ask,” he whined, taking a deep breath as you looked over his shoulder and saw a small group of people now making their way towards you. “I should probably mention that I wasn’t sure how comfortable you were with me mentioning you, so I haven’t told anyone about us yet and those idiots are some of my team and I would say ‘run’ but they’re all faster than me.”

“Ah… I see. So I’m guessing that one is Morgan?” 

“Yes.”

“Well, no time like the present,” you cheered, turning and waving at the approaching trio. “Hi. Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N - Spencer’s girlfriend.”

“Wow. A girlfriend?” cooed Morgan, reaching over to pull you into a hug before the other two could stop him. To their credit, they looked slightly embarrassed by the display but they were clearly too interested in your identity to care. “And a doctor to boot? Didn’t know he had it in him. I’m Derek Morgan.”

“Oh, I worked that out. It’s good to finally meet you all.” 

The others were quick to echo the sentiment, with JJ and Emily quickly introducing themselves in tandem. They were also quick to invite you inside the office for some coffee, but thankfully you weren’t lying when you said you had to get to work. 

“You know how it is. People to take care of, medical cases to solve, lives to save - same old, same old. All I’m missing is a snazzy badge and I could be an FBI agent.” 

“Ha ha.” Spencer’s smile was genuine as you stole a kiss before making a dash for your car. However, you could see the nerves in his eyes at being left alone to face the great inquisition that now awaited him following the discovery of your existence. You were pretty sure the entire BAU would know about you before it even hit lunchtime. “I’ll see you later, ok?” 

“Of course. Just let me know if you’re coming home or if you’re off saving the world in another state - otherwise I can’t promise I won’t eat all the leftovers before you get back.” 

He chuckled. “Will do.” 

With that, you bid the others goodbye, making sure to agree when they asked (more like insisted) that you came to their family dinner on Friday night at none other than Rossi’s house. The rest of the team were going to be begging to meet you after this, and they were all bringing their families along too. 

If Spencer wasn’t comfortable with you going you were pretty sure the team would believe it if you said you’d got called into a last minute surgery, but you’d check later when you both returned to the apartment you now called your home. Either way, you were going to have to make something to take with you, just in case. 

As your grandpa had always said, there was no quicker way to someone’s heart than through their stomach. Or, as in Spencer's case, with an unlimited supply of Jello...

[rafeandonlyrafe]

girls night

words: 1.4k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, teasing, p in v sex, semi public sex, a bit of exhibitionism, unprotected sex, clingy!rafe, established relationship

“so the girls are coming over-”

“mhm…”

“so if you want to watch a movie upstairs, or maybe see if top can hang out?” you suggest, rocking back and forth on your heels.

“hm, no.” rafe shakes his head, keeping his ass planted in the middle of the couch.

“no? it's just that we're gonna watch like a romcom and drink wine and gossip-”

“i can do all that too.” rafe shrugs.

“but do you really want to?” you question.

“no, but i don't want to be away from you. so you'll just have to put up with me.” rafe reaches his hand out, pulling you onto his lap.

“how long until they get here?” he questions, one hand wrapping around your waist, tugging you into his chest while his other hand ventures to your ass, gripping it over your pajama shorts.

it takes you a moment to remember what rafe asked you. “hayley will probably be here in like ten minutes.” 

“enough time to make out.” rafe smirks at you before connecting your lips. the minutes pass by as he holds you tight against him, mouth dominating yours until you're suddenly interrupted by the doorbell sounding out.

“shit.” you whine, legs a bit shaky and weak as you stand, rushing to let hayley in who also brought your two other friends steph and tina.

“hi girlies!” you hug each of them before moving deeper into the house. “i hope you don't mind rafey joining us.”

“no problem.” hayley shrugs. she knows the most how clingy rafe can be, and how much you love it.

“pick a movie.” you toss the remote at tina. “ill get the wine!”

you bring back glasses and two bottles under your arms, one red and one white. you pour yourself some before looking to rafe.

“ill share with you.” he smiles, not a huge fan of wine himself, so if he's going to drink it, it's going to be from the same glass as you.

“okay, i know we've all seen it before but ive really been wanting to rewatch 10 things i hate about you.” tina says as she hits play on the movie.

“oh, yes!” you squeal, sitting down next to rafe. tina is on the farthest cushion of the spot away from you while hayley and steph have taken up the armchairs.

you lean into rafe, only occasionally reaching forward to sip your wine. 

you're watching the movie when rafe ducks his head, pressing light kisses to the shell of your ear before moving lower, kissing along your jawline and neck.

“rafe…” you whisper, hand moving to grip his thigh as he pays extra attention to the spot he knows you're sensitive at.

“want you so bad.” rafe whispers, not stopping the kisses despite your hand tightening it's grip on his leg.

“and i want to enjoy girls night.” you turn to rafe so your friends don't pick up on wait your saying. “after. you know i want you to, but not when we have guests over.”

“fine, ill stop.” rafe huffs, leaning back against the couch, pulling you further into him to make up for not kissing you.

rafes focus shifts to the movie to distract him, his hand randomly petting over different parts of your body until another idea sparks in his head.

his hand drifts further up, thumb swiping over the bottom of your breast, keeping his movements slow and casual like they're not calculated as he moves up until he's cupping your chest, thumb swiping directly over your nipple.

your eyes closed the second rafe touched your breast, concentrating on not moaning out and turning the groups attention towards you.

hayley lets out a laugh at a scene and it has you jolting back to reality. you grab rafes hand and lower it back to your waist.

“come on.” rafe growls in your ear.

you ignore him as something in the movie reminds steph of an ex boyfriend as she launches into a rant about him, the same one you've all heard a million times, yet you're still happy to hear again, to make the same comments about how much of a dick he is.

rafe leans forward, slipping his arm from around you as he grabs a blanket from the basket you pulled to the center of the room for the girls.

“anyone else cold?”

tina raises her hand so rafe tosses a fluffy blanket in her direction before draping a bigger one over both of your laps, covering you up to the waist.

“i know what you're doing.” you whisper, turning to rafe and pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“and do you want me to stop?” rafe asks. he already knows the answer to the question. as much as you feign not wanting to do anything until your friends leave, you find rafe just as irresistible.

it's why you don't really fight it when rafes hand disappears underneath the blanket. you even spread your legs for him, allowing his hand to cup your pussy over the cover of your shorts and underwear.

“you want to kill me.” you whisper-hiss into rafes ear, subtly covering your mouth in case you let any sounds slip.

“just can't resist that pussy, baby.” rafe presses kisses into your hair as you attempt to focus on the movie, rafes hand staying mysteriously still.

you become impatient, waiting for the inevitable, so you reach over, placing your hand on rafes thigh, slowly moving it upwards, teasing him by swiping your hand back down whenever you get close to his crotch.

rafe moves suddenly, standing up and letting the blanket fall away as he scoops you into his arms. “be right back, ladies.”

he rushes out of the room, not leaving you any other option as he presses you against his body.

“oh my god, rafe!” you squeal as he pushes you into the nearest private room, which happens to be your guest bathroom.

“i need you right now, fuck.” rafe tugs your pajamas down, revealing that you're only wearing a small thong.

“you could wait another like half hour? the movie was almost done!” you allow rafe to press your front into the wall, bending forward to stick your ass out.

“nope.” rafe opens up his shorts to pull his cock out, already hard from your teasing.

“ridiculous.” you roll your eyes, but its accompanied with a giggle. you love how rafe can never get enough of you, how his love and borderline obsession is clear to everyone.

“says the one dripping for my cock.” rafe chuckles, swiping the head of his cock through your folds before pressing against your entrance, pushing in with one quick motion.

“oh fuck!” you squeal before covering your mouth, remembering your friends aren't too far away, although they definitely know what's going on, you don't need them to hear it as well.

“god, you feel so good and warm.” rafe moans, immediately beginning to thrust, not wanting to take you away from your girls night for too long.

his hand wraps around your front, reaching down to rub at your clit while his other hand holds your hips steady, the slapping sound of your skin meeting together echoing around the bathroom walls.

“you're mine.” rafe huffs out, as if you need reminding.

his thrusts become wilder as the minutes pass by of him pressing into your cunt until you lose yourself to the high that rushes over your body.

rafe has to grab your hips to keep you upright as your pussy clenches around him, only a few more thrusts before rafe is spilling into you with a moan of your name.

“shit, i already want you again.” rafe laughs, pressing you into the wall as his cock finishes pulsing inside of you, needing to make sure hes filled you up as much as possible before he pulls your underwear and shorts back up.

“rafe, im gonna leak all over the couch-” you complain before he interrupts you.

“oh well.” the devious smile on his face tells all.

you pout as he gets redressed, opening the door like nothing at all happened.

“come on.” rafe holds his hand out to you, proudly walking you back into the living room.

“well, i can’t blame you for keeping rafe around all the time.” tina giggles as you retake your place on the couch, your face bright red.

“its me who needs her around all the time.” rafe smiles, pressing a kiss to the side of your head while you pull the blanket up over your face in embarrassment.

[pucksandpower]

Push of a Button

Day 16 → Remote-Controlled Vibrator 💋 Jenson Button

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

Jenson leans back against the pit wall, arms crossed, his eyes locked on you. You’re standing just a few feet away, microphone in hand, talking animatedly to Lando Norris. Your smile is bright, your laughter effortless.

He’s seen it a thousand times, the way you light up around drivers, the way they light up around you. But today, there’s a twist in his chest, a quiet, insistent pressure that he can’t ignore.

Lando is leaning in closer than usual, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he grins at something you say. Jenson’s jaw tightens. He knows that smile, knows it’s not just friendly. Lando’s flirting, and you’re — what? Oblivious? Playing along? Jenson isn’t sure which is worse.

“Having fun?” Martin Brundle’s voice cuts through his thoughts, casual but probing. He’s always been good at that, at picking up on things left unsaid.

Jenson forces a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Just watching the show,” he replies, his tone light, but there’s an edge to it. His gaze doesn’t leave you.

Martin follows his line of sight, then chuckles softly. “Ah, I see. Lando’s quite the charmer, isn’t he?”

“Too charming,” Jenson mutters, almost to himself. He’s trying to keep his cool, but it’s getting harder by the second.

There’s something about the way Lando looks at you, like he’s seeing something more than just a journalist, more than just a colleague. And you — God, you’re smiling back at him like you don’t notice a damn thing.

Martin raises an eyebrow. “Jealous, are we?”

“Not jealous,” Jenson says, a bit too quickly. Then, quieter, “Just … protective.”

Martin claps him on the shoulder. “Well, she’s yours, isn’t she?”

Jenson nods, but the tension in his chest doesn’t ease. His. The word feels heavy, like a responsibility, like a promise. He watches as you and Lando exchange a few more words, then you laugh again, this time reaching out to lightly touch Lando’s arm. It’s a brief moment, but it feels like a punch to the gut.

“Excuse me,” Jenson says abruptly, pushing off the wall and striding towards you.

You don’t notice him at first, too caught up in whatever Lando’s saying. But then he’s there, a solid presence at your side, and your eyes flicker up to meet his. There’s a brief flash of surprise, then warmth, and you smile up at him, a smile just for him, but Jenson’s too wound up to fully appreciate it.

“Jenson!” You say, your voice a mix of surprise and happiness. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Obviously,” he says, but there’s no humor in his tone. He turns to Lando, his expression carefully neutral. “Norris.”

“Button,” Lando replies, but there’s a mischievous glint in his eye, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “We were just talking about the upcoming race. It’s going to be a tough one.”

“Yeah, well,” Jenson says, his voice steady but firm, “she’s done her job for now. You’ve got a race to focus on, haven’t you?”

You blink up at him, a little taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanor. “Jenson, we were just-”

“I know,” he interrupts, his eyes still on Lando. “But I’m sure Lando here has better things to do than chat all day, don’t you, Norris?”

There’s a challenge in his voice now, a quiet but unmistakable one. Lando’s smile doesn’t falter, but his gaze sharpens, meeting Jenson’s head-on.

“Of course,” Lando says easily, but there’s a tension in the air now, something almost electric. “Good to see you, Y/N. Catch you later?”

You nod, still trying to make sense of what’s happening, and Lando gives you one last smile before turning and walking away, leaving you alone with Jenson.

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with unspoken words and lingering tension. You shift slightly, turning to face him fully. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” Jenson says, but it’s too quick, too clipped.

You give him a look, one eyebrow arched, calling him out without saying a word. He sighs, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

“Lando was flirting with you,” he says finally, his voice low but intense.

You blink, then laugh softly, shaking your head. “He was just being friendly, Jense. We were talking about the race, that’s all.”

“That’s not all,” he insists, his eyes locking onto yours. “He was flirting, and you-” He stops himself, taking a breath. “You didn’t stop him.”

The accusation hangs in the air, and you feel a flash of irritation. “So what, you’re accusing me of flirting back?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he snaps, then immediately softens, his hand reaching out to gently cup your elbow. “I’m just … look, it bothers me, okay? Watching him look at you like that, knowing how much attention you get from the other drivers. It’s-” He pauses, searching for the right words. “It’s not easy.”

You stare at him, taking in the tension in his shoulders, the concern in his eyes. “Jenson, you know I only have eyes for you, right? I talk to these guys because it’s my job, not because I’m interested in them.”

“I know that,” he says, but there’s still something unresolved in his tone, a lingering insecurity that he can’t quite shake. “But it’s not just about that. It’s about how they see you. How they think they have a chance with you.”

“But they don’t,” you say firmly, stepping closer, your voice softening. “They never have, and they never will. You’re the one I’m with. No one else.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, absorbing your words, then opens them again, his gaze softening as he looks at you. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “I just … seeing you with Lando, it got to me. I don’t like the idea of anyone thinking they can come between us.”

“They can’t,” you assure him, leaning into his touch. “And they won’t. But you have to trust me. Trust that I know where my heart is.”

He nods slowly, his grip on your elbow tightening slightly as if grounding himself in your presence. “I do trust you. It’s just — sometimes I get this feeling, this … fear, I guess. That maybe one day you’ll wake up and realize you could have anyone, and you’ll wonder why you’re with me.”

Your heart clenches at his words, and you reach up, cupping his face in your hands. “Jenson, I’m with you because I love you. Not because of what anyone else thinks or how many people flirt with me. You’re the one I choose, every day.”

His eyes search yours, and for a moment, it feels like everything else fades away — the noise of the paddock, the pressure of the job, the endless demands on both of your time. It’s just the two of you, standing together in this moment, connected by something deeper than words.

“I love you too,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “More than anything.”

You smile, a soft, tender smile that makes his heart ache in the best way possible. “Then stop worrying about Lando or anyone else. You have me, okay? All of me.”

He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. For a long moment, you just stand there, holding each other, the rest of the world forgotten. Finally, he pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

“I’ll try,” he promises, his voice low and sincere. “But if Lando makes another move, I can’t guarantee I’ll be as calm next time.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “There won’t be a next time. Trust me.”

He smiles, but there’s still a hint of something unresolved in his eyes. “I just don’t want to lose you,” he admits quietly.

“You won’t,” you say firmly, your hands still resting on his chest. “You never will.”

He nods, his tension finally easing, and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Okay,” he whispers, and it’s like a promise, like he’s sealing this moment between the two of you. “Okay.”

***

Jenson zips up his travel bag, his eyes flickering towards the clock on the nightstand. You’re running late, as usual, busy with the final touches of your makeup in the bathroom. He can hear you humming softly, a familiar tune that brings a smile to his face.

“Five more minutes?” You call out from the bathroom, your voice slightly muffled by the closed door.

“We’ve got to leave in two,” Jenson replies, but there’s no real urgency in his tone. He’s used to this routine, knows you’ll make it out the door just in time. Still, something in him shifts as he glances at the bed, an idea forming in the back of his mind.

You emerge a moment later, your hair perfectly styled, lips a soft shade of pink that matches the blush on your cheeks. You’re stunning, as always, and Jenson feels that familiar stir of pride — and possessiveness. You’re his, but today, he wants to make sure you feel that, too.

“We should get going,” you say, grabbing your bag from the chair.

But Jenson moves faster, closing the distance between you in a few long strides. Before you can react, his hand is around your wrist, gently but firmly pulling you back towards the bed.

“Jenson, what are you-” You start to protest, but the look in his eyes stops you short.

“Sit down,” he says, his voice calm but authoritative.

You hesitate for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his demeanor. But there’s something in his gaze, a mixture of intent and desire, that makes your pulse quicken. You let him guide you to the edge of the bed, your heart thumping in your chest as you sit down.

Jenson kneels in front of you, his hands resting on your knees, eyes searching yours. “I’ve been thinking,” he begins, his voice low, “about what we talked about yesterday. About how much I want you, how much I need you to know you’re mine.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he presses a finger to your lips, silencing you. “Let me finish,” he says softly.

You nod, the air between you charged with anticipation.

“There’s something I want to give you,” he continues, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. “A reminder, something special, just between us.”

Your brow furrows slightly in confusion, but you don’t break eye contact, trying to read the intent behind his words.

Jenson reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, elegant box. Your breath catches as he opens it, revealing a sleek, discreet toy nestled inside. Your eyes widen slightly, and you glance up at him, searching his face for any sign of uncertainty. But there’s none — only a steady resolve and a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“Jenson …” you start, your voice a mix of surprise and curiosity.

He takes the toy out of the box, his touch deliberate and gentle. “Trust me,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you softly, his lips brushing yours in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. “I want to take care of you, make sure you feel me, even when we’re apart.”

You swallow hard, the implications of his words sinking in. “How …”

“I’ve got it all figured out,” he says, his voice soothing, but there’s a fire in his eyes that sends a thrill down your spine. “I control it from my phone. So no matter where you are, no matter what you’re doing, you’ll know I’m there with you.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, the idea both thrilling and nerve-wracking. “But the race-”

“We have time,” he interrupts, his voice firm but tender. He slides his hands up your thighs, his touch slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper.

His hands reach the hem of your skirt, and he pauses, giving you one last chance to change your mind. But you don’t. You nod, a silent affirmation, and he gently pushes you back onto the bed, his movements careful and deliberate.

“Relax,” he whispers, his hands deftly parting your legs. You do as he says, your body responding to his touch, the anticipation building with every passing second. Jenson is focused, his hands steady as he places the toy exactly where he wants it, his touch both tender and possessive.

You bite your lip, the sensation already making your heart race. Jenson watches you closely, his expression one of quiet intensity. He’s enjoying this, you realize — the control, the closeness, the way your body responds to him.

“Comfortable?” He asks, his voice a low murmur, laced with something darker, more intense.

You nod, unable to find your voice, your senses heightened by the knowledge of what’s about to happen.

He reaches into his pocket again, this time pulling out his phone. He unlocks it with a swipe, his eyes never leaving yours as he opens the app. “You’ll feel me with you all day,” he says, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “And when the moment’s right, I’ll remind you who you belong to.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, a delicious mix of anticipation and trepidation. “Jenson,” you murmur, a mix of nerves and excitement in your voice.

He smiles, a slow, confident smile that sends heat pooling low in your belly. “Trust me,” he repeats, his thumb hovering over the screen.

And then, without another word, he presses down.

A soft gasp escapes your lips as the toy hums to life, a gentle vibration that sends waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You grip the bedspread, your eyes widening as the sensation builds, filling you with warmth and desire.

Jenson watches your reaction closely, his eyes darkening with satisfaction. “You like that?” He asks, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your entire body.

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice shaky but honest.

He shifts on the bed, leaning over you, his lips brushing your ear. “Good,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “Because this is just the beginning.”

He adjusts the setting, increasing the intensity, and you arch your back, a moan slipping from your lips before you can stop it. The pleasure is overwhelming, consuming, and you can’t help but cling to him, your fingers digging into his arms as he holds you steady.

“Jenson,” you gasp, your voice tinged with desperation. But he’s relentless, his control unwavering as he watches you writhe beneath him, his expression a mix of tenderness and possession.

“Just breathe,” he soothes, his hand caressing your thigh. “You’re doing so well, love.”

You try to focus, try to ground yourself in his touch, but the sensations are too much, too intense. Every nerve in your body is alight, every inch of your skin hypersensitive to his touch, to the vibrations that are driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Jenson shifts, his lips brushing against your forehead, your cheeks, your lips, grounding you in the moment, reminding you of his presence. “You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice a low, possessive growl that sends shivers down your spine. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp, the words tumbling out of you in a rush, as much a plea as a declaration.

His eyes flare with satisfaction, and he lowers his head, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that steals your breath away. You kiss him back with everything you have, pouring all your love, your desire, your trust into that kiss.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice soft but filled with pride. “You’re doing so well. Just a little longer.”

He adjusts the setting again, and this time, the intensity makes you cry out, your body trembling with the effort to hold on, to ride the waves of pleasure crashing over you. But Jenson is there, his presence a steady anchor in the storm, guiding you, supporting you.

“Jenson,” you whimper, your voice trembling with need. “Please …”

But he only smiles, a slow, knowing smile that tells you he’s not done with you yet. “You can take it,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “I know you can.”

And you do, because he’s right — he knows you better than anyone, knows exactly how far he can push you, how much you can take. And right now, he’s pushing you to your limits, testing your resolve, your trust, your love for him.

The toy buzzes relentlessly against you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. You can barely think, barely breathe, your world reduced to the sensations overwhelming you, to the man who’s controlling them.

“Jenson,” you cry out, your voice breaking with the intensity of it all. But he’s there, his touch grounding you, his voice guiding you, his presence a steady, reassuring force in the midst of the storm.

“You’re mine,” he whispers again, his voice rough with emotion, with need. “All mine.”

“Yes,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper. “Yours.”

And then, just when you think you can’t take any more, he finally relents, his thumb sliding over the screen, lowering the intensity until the vibrations stop altogether, leaving you trembling and breathless in his arms.

Jenson pulls you close, his hand gently sliding down to fix your underwear, carefully smoothing it back into place. He takes a moment to pat over it, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he feels the warmth radiating from you.

“This is just the beginning,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with promise. He leans in to kiss your forehead, his touch lingering as if he’s imprinting this moment into both of your memories. “There’s a whole day ahead, love. And I’m not done with you yet.”

You shiver under his touch, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, and the anticipation of what’s to come makes your heart race all over again. As he stands, offering you a hand to help you up, you know this day is going to be one you’ll never forget.

***

Jenson leans casually against the pit wall, his eyes fixed on the big screen broadcasting the live feed from the paddock. You’re on camera, poised and professional as always, a radiant smile on your face as you prepare for the post-FP2 interviews. The soft buzz of the paddock fades into the background as he watches you, the world narrowing down to just you and the screen.

He knows your routine by heart — the way you stand, the confident tilt of your head, the way you hold the microphone with ease. But today, there’s something different, a lingering anticipation that’s been building ever since this morning in the hotel room.

You catch sight of Charles Leclerc approaching, and your smile widens, eyes brightening with recognition. “Charles! A strong session today. How are you feeling going into qualifying?”

Charles grins back, his boyish charm in full force as he stops in front of you. “Feeling good. The car’s in a good place, and we’ve got a solid shot at pole.”

Jenson watches the interaction closely, the subtle way Charles leans in just a fraction closer than necessary, the playful glint in his eye as he responds to your questions. It’s nothing out of the ordinary — Charles is known for his easy charm — but to Jenson, it’s a reminder of how easily others are drawn to you, how effortlessly you command attention.

You laugh at something Charles says, a soft, genuine sound that Jenson feels in his chest. He sees the way Charles’ eyes flicker over you, lingering for just a second too long. It’s innocent enough on the surface, but Jenson knows better. He knows the effect you have on people, the way you light up a room just by being in it.

“Glad to hear it,” you say, your voice smooth and warm, the consummate professional. “There’s been a lot of talk about strategy — how much of a role do you think tire management will play tomorrow?”

Charles’ gaze doesn’t waver from yours, his smile widening as he leans in slightly, just enough that it feels intimate. “It’s always a factor, but I think we’ve got it under control. Of course, anything can happen on race day.”

Jenson’s jaw tightens imperceptibly, a flicker of something dark and possessive flaring up inside him. His hand slips into his pocket, fingers brushing against his phone. The control, the power, is right there, just a tap away. He can’t resist the temptation — especially not when Charles is looking at you like that.

You’re in the middle of another question when Jenson’s thumb hovers over the app. He watches you closely, the slight flush in your cheeks, the way you shift your weight from one foot to the other, the way Charles’ attention seems to linger a bit too long on the curve of your lips.

Without a second thought, Jenson taps the screen, the motion almost casual. He increases the intensity just enough to remind you of his presence, of the promise he made that morning. The toy buzzes to life against you, sending a jolt of sensation through your body that’s as unexpected as it is intense.

You falter, just for a split second, the question dying on your lips as your body reacts to the sudden stimulation. Your eyes widen slightly, the microphone trembling in your grip as you try to maintain your composure.

Charles doesn’t seem to notice the brief pause, still caught up in his answer, but Jenson sees everything. The way your breathing hitches, the way your posture stiffens as you fight to keep your cool. It’s subtle, but it’s there, and it sends a thrill through him.

“Are you okay?” Charles asks, noticing the brief flicker of something in your expression.

You force a smile, nodding quickly as you scramble to regain control. “Yes, just — just a little tired from all the running around today. But I’m fine, really.”

Jenson smirks to himself, satisfied with the small victory. But he’s not done yet. He adjusts the setting again, this time dialing up the intensity just a notch, enough to keep you on edge but not enough to make it impossible to continue.

You feel the change immediately, the vibrations intensifying against you, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to react visibly. You clench your jaw, forcing yourself to stay focused on Charles, to keep the interview on track.

But it’s hard — so, so hard — when every nerve in your body is alight with sensation, when every word feels like a battle to keep your composure.

“So, Charles,” you continue, your voice slightly strained but still steady, “do you think Ferrari has what it takes to challenge for the win this weekend?”

Charles tilts his head, considering the question, his gaze still fixed on you with that easy, confident charm. “I think we’re in a good place. The team has been working hard, and we’re going to give it everything we’ve got. But we’ll have to see how things play out on track.”

Jenson’s eyes narrow slightly as he watches Charles, the way the younger driver’s attention never wavers from you, the way he seems so comfortable, so at ease. There’s no mistaking the attraction there, the subtle undercurrent of flirtation in every word, every glance.

And Jenson can’t help himself. He taps the screen again, the movement almost automatic, dialing up the intensity just a bit more.

This time, the reaction is immediate. You gasp softly, your eyes widening as the sensation overwhelms you, and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. The microphone slips in your hand, your grip faltering as you struggle to keep control.

Charles notices the change, his brows knitting together in concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks, his voice softer, more intimate now.

You nod quickly, trying to brush it off, but the effort it takes to speak, to form coherent sentences, is almost too much. “I’m — yes, just a bit … distracted. But I’m fine.”

Jenson’s smirk deepens, satisfaction blooming in his chest as he watches you fight to maintain your composure. He knows how hard it is for you right now, knows exactly what you’re feeling, and it drives him wild with a mix of possessiveness and desire.

But he’s not cruel — not really. He gives you a reprieve, lowering the intensity just enough to let you catch your breath, to finish the interview without completely unraveling on live television.

You take a deep, shaky breath, trying to regain some semblance of control as you wrap up the interview. “Thank you, Charles, and good luck tomorrow,” you manage, your voice only slightly breathless.

Charles smiles, still concerned but letting it go as he nods. “Thank you. And take care of yourself, okay?”

You nod, offering a strained smile in return as you turn away, your heart pounding in your chest, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of sensation. You can barely focus, barely think, as you make your way off camera, the weight of Jenson’s control heavy on your mind.

Jenson watches you go, his heart pounding with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. He knows what’s coming next, knows that you’ll find him the moment you’re out of sight, knows the confrontation that’s brewing just beneath the surface.

But for now, he’s content to watch, to wait, to let the anticipation build as you navigate the pit lane, trying to keep your cool while knowing that he’s the one pulling the strings.

You make it to a quiet corner of the paddock, out of sight of the cameras, and lean heavily against the wall, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts. You know he’s watching, know he’s aware of every reaction, every tremor in your body.

And then, as if on cue, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out with trembling fingers, already knowing who it’s from. The message is simple, just one word: Mine.

You swallow hard, a mixture of emotions swirling in your chest — desire, frustration, love, and something darker, more intense. You know you’re his, there’s no question about that, but the way he reminds you, the way he exerts his control over you, leaves you breathless, craving more.

Before you can respond, you hear footsteps approaching, and you look up to see Jenson walking towards you, his expression calm and collected, but with that same spark of intensity in his eyes that you saw this morning.

“Jenson,” you start, your voice shaky but filled with emotion.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just steps closer, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your lips. “You did well,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with pride. “But you know this isn’t over yet.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the promise of what’s to come making your pulse quicken. You nod, unable to find the words, but he sees the understanding in your eyes, the acceptance of what he’s done, and what he’s going to do.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “You’re mine, and I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

With that, he pulls back, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. He doesn’t need to say anything else — you know what’s coming, and the anticipation is enough to make your knees weak.

“Let’s go,” he says finally, his voice firm but gentle as he takes your hand, leading you away from the paddock. The noise of the crowd fades, replaced by the quiet hum of the facility around you. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t need to, and the silence between you is thick with anticipation. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, each step forward amplifying the tension that’s been building all day.

He stops in front of a bathroom door, glancing around to ensure you’re alone before pushing it open and guiding you inside. The door closes behind you with a soft click, the lock sliding into place with a finality that makes your pulse quicken.

The room is small, sterile, with white tiles and a large mirror above the sink. The only light comes from the overhead fluorescent bulb, casting sharp shadows on the walls. Jenson doesn’t waste any time — he turns you around, hands gripping your hips as he lifts you effortlessly onto the counter.

You gasp as the cool surface meets your skin, the contrast with the heat radiating from your body almost too much to bear. He stands between your legs, his presence overwhelming as he leans in close, his breath hot against your neck.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. “So eager, so ready for me.”

You can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips, your body trembling with anticipation. His hands trail down your thighs, fingers brushing against the edge of your skirt before pushing it up, exposing the thin fabric of your underwear.

He pulls out his phone, the app already open, and you can see the glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he turns up the intensity again. The toy inside you comes to life with a sudden, powerful vibration that has you gasping, your hands gripping the edge of the counter for support.

“Jenson-” you manage to breathe out, but the words are lost as the sensations overwhelm you. Your legs tremble, your body straining against the relentless stimulation, but he doesn’t relent. Instead, he steps back slightly, his hands on your knees, gently but firmly pushing your legs apart.

He watches you, his gaze dark and intense, as you struggle to keep yourself together. The toy pulses inside you, every nerve ending on fire as you fight to stay on the edge, to hold on just a little longer. But it’s too much — everything is too much — and you can feel yourself starting to unravel, the pleasure building until it’s all-consuming.

“Don’t hold back,” Jenson murmurs, his voice calm but commanding. “I want to see you fall apart for me.”

Your head tilts back, your mouth falling open as a moan escapes you, loud and desperate. You’re so close, teetering on the brink, and when he presses just a bit harder on your legs, holding you open and exposed, you finally lose control.

The orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of pleasure that leaves you breathless, your entire body trembling as you cry out, unable to stop yourself. You fall off the edge, utterly consumed by the sensations coursing through you, and Jenson watches every second of it, his gaze locked on you, unblinking, taking in every reaction, every shudder, every gasp.

When you finally come down, your body weak and spent, he steps closer again. His hand trails up your thigh, fingers hooking around the edge of your underwear before gently pulling it aside. The toy slips out easily, still buzzing faintly, coated in the evidence of your pleasure.

He doesn’t break eye contact as he brings it to his lips, his tongue flicking out to taste the sweetness that lingers on it. The sight alone is enough to make your heart skip a beat, the intimacy of the act making your breath catch in your throat.

“Delicious,” he whispers, the word sending another shiver down your spine as he licks the toy clean, his eyes never leaving yours. When he’s satisfied, he leans down, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh before sliding the toy back inside you.

The sensation is different now, your body still sensitive, and you gasp softly as he adjusts it, making sure it’s nestled perfectly against you. He steps back, his thumb brushing over your thigh as he looks at you with a mixture of pride and desire.

“There we go,” he murmurs, his voice low and possessive. “You’re ready for the rest of the day now, aren’t you?”

You nod, your breath still coming in short gasps as you try to regain some semblance of composure. But it’s hard, especially when he’s looking at you like that, his eyes filled with the promise of more to come.

He helps you off the counter, your legs still shaky, but his hold is steady, grounding you as you smooth down your skirt and try to collect yourself. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle now, almost tender.

“This is just the beginning,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re mine.”

And as he leads you out of the bathroom, back into the world, you know that no matter what happens, you’ll always be his, and he’ll always be yours.

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

October 08 - Choking

pairing: sub!Natasha x dom!Reader

summary: Natasha wants to try something new.

content warnings: choking

word count: 1.2k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

“I want to try something new tonight,” Natasha says, her fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. You’re lying on the couch, the solid weight of her body resting half on top of you while a Disney movie plays in the background. 

You hum, tilting your face away from the screen and towards her. Her cheek is pressed against your shoulder, her soft breaths hitting your neck, and her dark green eyes nervously glancing up at you. 

Her blonde hair is soft underneath your fingertips, and you stroke her head gently while you wait for her breaths to become even again. You know how stressful it is for Natasha to ask for things, especially since she’s not used to making her own choices. 

“So you know how I like it when you’re a bit… rougher?” Her voice is pitched slightly higher than usual, and you smile at the flush that spreads across her cheeks. Her eyes are locked on the screen, refusing to meet your gaze. You let it be, knowing now is not the time to be stingy about eye contact. 

“Yes, love. I like how desperate and needy you get when I’m rough,” you say, trying to help her get the words out. “Do you want me to do something more?”

Natasha takes in a shaky breath, but you can feel the steady beat of her heart underneath your palm. You keep stroking her hair, and after a few long moments, she opens her mouth and looks at you for the first time. 

“I want to try choking,” she whispers, her voice soft and quiet. It lacks the usual confidence she speaks with, so you know this is a vulnerable moment for her. 

“Of course, we can try that, sweetheart. I’ve wanted to wrap my hand around that pretty neck of yours, but I was waiting until you were comfortable enough.”

“Oh, well… I think I’d like it very much,” Natasha says with a note of finality, declaring the subject closed. 

Smiling softly, you press a kiss against the top of her head, her soft sigh melting into the skin of your neck. Her cinnamon-scented perfume fills your nose as you turn back to the movie, your mind running with possibilities for later that evening. 

Natasha’s hips move slightly against yours, and you can tell from the heat emanating from between her thighs that she’s thinking about it too. Perfect. You love it when she gets all worked up, she always cums harder when she’s needy.  

—

Your lips move fervently against Natasha’s as the end credits of the movie play. You press the mute button on the remote, before your hands are back on her waist and squeezing tightly. 

She’s moved from her position cuddling into your side, now fully straddling your waist as she moans softly into your mouth. Her hands are around your face, her fingers stretching onto the sides of your head and tangling with your hair. 

The weight of her warm body against yours is sending your senses into overdrive, and you push down the urge inside you to flip her onto her back and have your way with her. You want Natasha to enjoy what comes next, but also feel comfortable. So, you let her start at her own pace. 

That doesn’t include letting her roll her hips against yours. 

“Stay still, baby. I don’t want to have to pin you down this early in the night,” you say, your fingers digging into her hips as she gasps into your mouth. A low whine escapes her as she pulls her lips from yours to look at you with a wounded expression. 

Raising an eyebrow, you pin her with a look. 

“Okay, I’ll keep still,” Natasha says, and you know that it's a lie. She can’t help it, her needy core searching for friction when she gets desperate and fuzzy. You simply nod, letting her lips connect with yours again. 

You make sure to keep your movements slow, your tongue lazily pressing against her lips as her breathing gets heavier. Her chest heaves against yours, pressing firmly against you as her hands start moving, stroking your hair. 

Moving your hands slowly, you reach down to cup her ass, smiling against her mouth at the accompanying moan. Natasha rocks her hips once, before a sharp nip of your teeth against her bottom lip pauses the movement. She holds herself back, her clit begging to hump against something as it throbs uselessly in her pants. 

“Good girl,” you murmur into her mouth, speeding up the movements of your lips against hers. Your hands trail up her sides and in between your bodies, squeezing her breasts as she arches into you. 

Bringing one of your hands up further, you wrap the other around her waist and hold her tightly against you. Your fingers wrap gently around her neck, but not applying any pressure yet. 

Natasha moans, her pupils blown as you disconnect your lips from hers. She’s panting, her lips glistening and cheeks flushed. Her hips are moving slightly, and you smirk. 

“Color?”

“Green, please,” she gasps out. Dark green eyes close briefly, as if savoring the weight of your palm against her throat. 

You squeeze your fingers shut, applying pressure against the sides of her neck. Natasha swallows, and you can feel her throat bob beneath your grip. You take care not to press against her windpipe, only squeezing the sides of her neck. 

“Is this okay?” Your words are soft, your lips mere inches from hers. Natasha nods quickly, pressing herself further against your grip as she chases your lips with her own. You allow it, swallowing her moans as her lips move desperately against hers. 

Wrapping your hand fully around her throat, you apply more pressure. Natasha feels almost weightless, her head spinning and fuzzy as she feels her orgasm building. She can’t think, only focusing on how good she feels as you choke her while her hips move slightly against you. 

“Please,” she whines, the desperate sound causing a groan to escape you. 

“Please what, love?” 

“Fuck, uh… please choke me harder. I want to cum… god I’m so close just please- anything please,” Natasha pleads, her words hurried and desperate. 

You don’t respond, squeezing tighter as she gasps out the word green in response. Her hips are moving harshly against your stomach, grinding down onto your muscles in a frenzied manner. Smiling, you lean in, biting her neck softly and whispering, “Cum for me, Natasha.”

She cums, your hand wrapped around her throat as words of gratitude stream from her lips. Natasha’s hair falls over her shoulders as she looks down at you, your grip slowly releasing so as not to give her a headrush. 

“Thank you, I-” she pauses, catching her breath. “I love trying new things with you.”

“I love them too, baby. Thank you for trusting me,” you say. Kissing her, you let her pour her thanks into the movements of her soft lips. 

Smirking, you whisper against her lips, “Please let me know if you have any other fun things you want to try, I want you to share all your naughty little thoughts with me.”

Natasha blushes again, and you wrap her in a gentle hug.

You love it when she feels safe enough to try new things with you. You couldn't ask for a better girlfriend, and you can’t wait to experience new things with her.

[luvst4rc0r3]

Sevika x Agegap!Reader PT.2

WARNINGS:Little suggestive at the end

WC:976

You’re the type of person who wakes up at full speed. Like, as soon as your eyes open, you’re bouncing around the apartment, making breakfast, humming random songs, and generally being a menace to Sevika’s peace.

Sevika, meanwhile, is not a morning person. She’s a “grumble into her coffee while glaring at the world” type of woman.

“Good morning, sunshine!” you chirp one morning, plopping onto the couch beside her.

She squints at you over her mug. “How are you like this at seven in the morning?”

“It’s called being happy to be alive, Sev! You should try it sometime!”

She takes a long sip of her coffee, pretending she didn’t hear you.

You also have a habit of waking her up in the most chaotic ways possible. Once, you tried to wake her by playing a trumpet sound on your phone at full volume. She didn’t even flinch—just pulled you into bed and trapped you there until you promised to let her sleep.

You’re always saying or doing something that leaves Sevika pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Sevika, do you think if I ran fast enough, I could jump across that rooftop?”

“No.”

“But what if—”

“No.”

One time, you got bored and decided to teach yourself how to juggle. You didn’t tell Sevika, so she walked into the apartment to find you throwing knives in the air like it was no big deal.

“WHAT are you doing?” she barked, immediately snatching the knives out of the air.

“Juggling!” you said, as if it were obvious.

“You’re going to kill yourself.”

“But it looks cool, right?”

She sighed. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You love to tease Sevika about being older than you, especially when she does something remotely “old lady”-ish.

“Why do you always order the same thing at the bar, Sev? Is it a comfort thing? Are you stuck in your ways?”

“It’s called knowing what I like,” she replies, glaring at you.

“Next thing I know, you’ll be complaining about kids these days,” you tease, dodging the pillow she throws at you.

You also have a habit of calling her “grandma” just to see how far you can push her.

“Hey, Sev, want me to knit you a blanket? I bet your joints get cold in the winter.”

She gives you the iciest glare imaginable, but you swear you’ve seen her hide a smile.

The age gap means Sevika’s protective instincts are in overdrive. She feels like it’s her job to keep you safe, and she takes it very seriously.

“You’re not invincible,” she says after patching up a scrape you got from one of your harebrained ideas.

“No, but I have you,” you reply, grinning.

She mutters something about how you’re going to give her a heart attack one day.

If you ever get hurt, even if it’s something minor, Sevika goes full mom mode. She’s lecturing you while cleaning the wound, even though her touch is gentle and she’s clearly worried.

“This is why I tell you to think before you do something stupid,” she grumbles.

“But where’s the fun in that?” you joke, and she just sighs.

Sevika pretends like she doesn’t care about your antics, but she absolutely indulges you when no one else is around.

You want to go stargazing on the roof in the middle of the night? She grumbles but helps you climb up there.

You want to bake cookies at 2 a.m. because you “had a craving”? She’s half-asleep but still helps you find the flour.

You want to dress her up in ridiculous clothes “for fun”? She lets you. But only once. And only because you promised not to tell anyone.

You once dragged her to a carnival, and though she claimed she was “too old for this crap,” you caught her smiling while watching you try to win a stuffed animal at a ring toss game. (Spoiler: she stepped in and won it for you with ease. You still call her your hero for it.)

For all your energy, you have moments when you crash, and that’s when Sevika shines. She’s surprisingly good at taking care of you when you’ve worn yourself out.

She’ll scoop you up, carry you to bed, and rub your back until you fall asleep.

If you’re overwhelmed, she knows exactly how to calm you down—usually by sitting you in her lap and letting you ramble while she strokes your hair.

One night, you were feeling particularly insecure about the age gap. “What if I’m too much for you, Sev? Like, what if you get tired of me?”

Sevika immediately shut that down. “You’re a pain in my ass, but you’re my pain in the ass,” she said, pulling you into her arms. “I’m not going anywhere, so stop overthinking.”

She didn’t let you go until you fell asleep, and even then, she stayed awake to make sure you were okay.

Sure, Sevika grumbles about your energy, and you tease her about being old, but at the end of the day, you balance each other out.

You remind her not to take life too seriously.

She keeps you grounded when your chaotic energy gets the better of you.

And even though she claims to not understand your jokes, you’ve caught her smiling at them more than once. She may not laugh, but the fact that you can make her smile? That’s enough for you.

At the end of the day, Sevika’s your grumpy, overprotective girlfriend, and you’re her chaotic little sunshine. She acts like you drive her insane (and you probably do), but she wouldn’t trade you for anything.

“Sevika, I’m pretty sure you secretly love my energy.”

“I tolerate it,” she replies, smirking.

“That’s not what you said last night,” you tease, and she groans.

“One day, I’m going to muzzle you.”

“Good luck, gramps!”

Idk if I’ll write more fics abt this

I want food

[ragingbookdragon]

Hanging By A Moment

Bayverse Transformers x Reader Blurbs

Word Count: 940 Warnings: None

Author's Note: I love TF so much. I miss it all lol -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Ironhide:

“This is…different,” she notes as she arrives into the darkened field; the veil of the moon blankets the land in an ivory haze, yet Ironhide’s sleek body is visible from even the edge. It’s remote enough that they don’t have to worry about being seen; she nears him with a curious look on her face. “Ironhide?”

His tailgate lowers and with a surprised expression that quickly gives way to a pleasant smile, she climbs onto the back, kicks her shoes off, and lays down on the makeshift bedding, resting her head on the pillow.

“Did you do this all for me?” she asks. “Aren’t you so sweet underneath all that firepower.”

“Have to treat my best girl, don’t I?” Ironhide teases back. “You’ve been working awfully hard lately. Even I know to take a break once in a while.”

She hums and curls into the blankets, almost feeling like they’re keeping warm and toasty. “No rest for the wicked, Ironhide. The Decepticons won’t wait while I rest.”

He grumbles, deep and low, and she can’t help but laugh. “Then you’ll rest, and I’ll kick ass.”

“Okay, bud,” she jokes, resting her head back on the pillow. “Take care of me while I rest.”

***

Rachet:

“When I said I wanted to spend some time alone with you, Rachet…this isn’t necessarily what I meant.”

His frame rumbles as he slows to a stop on the side of the canyon. “I can turn around, if you’d like?”

“You better not,” she warns and points a finger at the steering wheel. “You promised to take me out to the stars.”

She can hear the smile in his hum as he starts driving again. “When you mentioned you’ve always wanted to see the stars up close, I figured this would be the best I could give you.” He shifts back the roof, and her eyes widen at the expanse of bright stars above her.

“Oh my God,” she breathes, unable to help but stand up in the front seat, rising out of the rooftop. “Rachet, it’s…it’s incredible.”

He slows to a stop at the edge and stills. “It’s almost as incredible as you are. But somehow, their brightness can’t even come close to how beautiful you shine.”

Slipping back into the seat, she reaches forward and gently presses her lips to his steering wheel. “Thank you, Rachet. For doing this for me…for us.”

***

Bumblebee:

It’s almost one AM by the time they make it back into the city. Eerily enough, the roads are almost empty, and Bumblebee has a straight shot back to the facility, but he passes the particular highway that leads to it.

She notices from her sleepy haze in the passenger seat. “Bee? You missed the turn.”

He makes a noise that she recognizes as his answer of “Yes.”

“Where are we going?” she’s not worried in the slightest, knows that Bumblebee wouldn’t ever take her somewhere she could get hurt; she’s still curious though.

“Don’t worry about it,” a voiceover from a TV show filters through and she snorts tiredly.

“Alright, Bee, keep your secrets.” She shifts in his seat and reclines back, unable to help but trace the threading in the console. “You takin’ me home, Bee?”

“Take me home tonight!” he sings, and she smiles, gently shutting her eyes as the streetlights still shine across her face as they pass between shadows.

“I’m happy, Bee,” she murmurs. “You know that? I’m always happy with you.”

He’s silent for a long while and she wonders if maybe he didn’t hear her, but it doesn’t bother her as she curls up in the passenger seat and begins to drift off, only to hear quietly through the speakers, “I’m living for the only thing I know. I’m running and not quite sure where to go. And I don’t know what I’m diving into, just hanging by a moment here with you.”

***

Optimus:

“Sorry about the rain, Optimus,” she murmurs as they take shelter in the rundown warehouse. “I can’t imagine it’s going to let up…we’ll be here for a while.”

She watches as steam begins to flow from his body, fans in his processors blowing until the water is simply droplets here and there.

“That’s handy,” she jokes, and he meets her gaze with a smile.

“While rust isn’t a big a worry to myself as it is Ironhide, I’d rather not take any chances.”

She nods and takes off her jacket, wringing it out. “It’ll be dark soon. We should set up a perimeter.” The echoing of his transformation sounds in the warehouse, and she looks up. “Optimus?” His door opens and closes a few times until she gets the hint to climb in.

As she enters, the cab opens, and she slips further inside. It’s smaller than she imagined, given that outside he’s much larger but she assumes he’s somehow made some room for her. It’s a small bedding, smaller than a door, but enough that she can curl up on it, propping her arm under her head. She’s about to say it’s cold when the fans blow again and fill the cab with a warmth that feels like she wrapped herself in a blanket straight out of the drier.

And he knows it too as he asks, “Comfortable?”

“Mhm,” she murmurs and scoots back until her back is against the wall of his cab; it feels good to have him at her back, safe and secure. “I think I could lie here forever.”

“When there is peace, my spark,” he says. “We will lie forever.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” and she knows his words ring with truth.

[incognit0slut]

Better for you

Spencer spends the change of year with a new resolution as he starts looking at his rival differently.

(THIS CAN BE READ AS A STANDALONE BUT IS TECHNICALLY A THIRD PART FOR LOSE CONTROL AND THE LAST LAUGH)

words: 4.6k Category: fluff (surprisingly this is not my usual NSFW work) warnings: kissing, suggestive content a/n: I’m killing two birds with one stone here. One, I caved in and did another part for this rival couple. And two, I wrote this as a participation in @imagining-in-the-margins office party writing challenge🥳 Here are the prompts: 1. The team hardly believes it when Character A agrees to dance with B. 2. “I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

WAS A PARTY SUPPOSED TO BE THIS BORING? A subtle sigh escaped her lips as she glanced around the backyard. When Rossi invited the team to gather around at his house in celebration of the new year, everybody was on board.

"Who would say no to a David Rossi party?" JJ had said, which led her to bring her family along the occasion. Even Simmons brought his wife and five little kids. And now Rossi’s place never looked so alive with this many people, it seemed that everyone was present at this joyful soirée.

Everyone but one person, that is.

She turned her attention back to the drink in her hand, leaning against the open bar Rossi had set up, her mind drifting towards a certain man. It wasn't like she was keeping tabs on him. Really, she wasn't. It just happened that his absence became surprisingly noticeable when he decided to take some time off work to visit his mom, even days before Christmas break.

How long had it been since the last time she saw him? Two weeks? Three? It seemed like a considerable amount of time had passed since she saw was forced to work with him, which happened during the case in a remote town. And despite successfully apprehending the Unsub days later, her resistance to temptation, unfortunately, wasn't as successful.

It was hard not to think of what happened during the travel when it kept playing in her mind like a broken record. It was as if the memories were engraved in her brain—his slick, sweaty body pressing against hers; his soft lips caressing her skin; his large hands roaming her curves, traveling to places that had her hot and wet—

What the hell was wrong with her?

She took a sip of her drink—or more like chugging it down—trying to test if the burning sensation could wash away her filthy mind.

"Whoa," a sudden voice broke through her haze and she looked up to find Luke standing close to her. "Easy there."

His easygoing grin met her gaze as he gestured toward her almost empty glass. She shrugged, aiming the glass toward him in a mock toast. "Just trying to enjoy the party."

"Yeah?" He chuckled, leaning against the bar.

She shot him a sideways glance. "What's it to you, Alvez?"

His grin widened. "Well, when someone's drinking like they're on a mission, it catches my attention. Everything okay?"

She hesitated for a moment before responding, her tone calm. "I'm just getting into the party spirit, you know?"

Luke raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor unwavering. "Is that so? Or are you trying to drown out some thoughts?"

She scoffed. "Thoughts? What thoughts?"

"The kind that makes you chug down your drink."

"You're imagining things. I'm simply enjoying this..." Her eyes scanned the party, trying to find a word describing the ongoing festive. "...ambiance."

"Alone by the table full of alcohol?"

"Well, someone's got to keep an eye on these drinks from disappearing too quickly."

"Hmm," He responded. "It kind of seems like you're waiting for someone to join the party."

Her cheeks warmed slightly, and she scoffed again. "I know who you're referring to, and no, I am not waiting for anyone."

He leaned in, the mischief in his eyes unwavering. "So, you're telling me that if Reid walked in right now, you wouldn't do a happy dance?"

"Please, there would be no happy dance," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just a casual acknowledgment, maybe."

"Casual acknowledgment? You're going with that?" His grin widened, his teasing persistence unyielding. "There's nothing casual about you two."

"If you mean hating each other's gut, then sure, there is nothing casual about Reid and me."

"He doesn't hate you, you know." She gave him a deadpanned look, her skepticism evident in her arched brow. Luke laughed. "Fine, he disliked the idea of having another prodigy on the team. When he got out of prison, he felt like you were his replacement."

She frowned. "I kind of was. Emily wanted someone to fill in for his absence while he was away."

Luke raised an eyebrow, his expression turning thoughtful. "True, but I think you're starting to grow on him." She shook her head, trying to brush off the comment. "I'm serious, I think you made an impression."

Her skepticism lingered as she fully turned towards him, pointing a finger at him. "So you’re telling me every time he tried to pick a fight he was actually impressed by my intelligence?"

"Well, Reid's got this... unique way of expressing himself, but trust me, he respects you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Now you're just pushing it."

"There's got to be something more than what you're letting on. He's not exactly subtle, you know."

She leaned back slightly, trying to maintain composure. "You're reading too much into it. Reid and I have..." a complicated dynamic between coworkers who hate each other but had sex twice—well, three, including that one time in the shower. "...a professional relationship," she decided to say.

His grin widened. "Professional? I've seen the way you two spar during cases."

She huffed. "It's just our way of solving problems. It doesn't mean anything more."

Luke's expression turned thoughtful. "I've worked with him for a while, and he usually doesn't go back and forth with people in smart talk. There must be something about you that intrigues him."

"Or irritates him," she added dryly. "You're giving him too much credit."

"Maybe," he admitted with a laugh. "But I don’t know, he might surprise you one of these days."

She shot him a skeptical glance. "I highly doubt that."

"Yeah?" He suddenly looked past her, a sly grin forming. "Then maybe should find out for yourself."

Confused, she turned around to see what had caught his attention…. And time seemed to slow as her eyes widened in surprise when she spotted Spencer entering the party, a casual smile on his face as he greeted everyone. For a moment, their eyes locked, and despite her attempts to remain nonchalant, a subtle flutter danced in her chest.

She quickly looked away, her attempt to maintain composure falling apart.

"See what I mean?" Luke's voice broke through her thoughts.

She rolled her eyes, trying to deflect. "It's just a party, people look at each other. There's nothing special."

He raised an eyebrow and responded with a hint of sarcasm. “Sure."

"I'm serious. Stop reading into it."

"Alright, I won't."

That only annoyed her even more. She took a deep breath, attempting to regain control of the situation. "You're insufferable."

"What? I believe you," he replied. "I mean, nothing could've happened between two people who were locked together and then forced to share a room, right?"

She shot him a glare, but before she could say anything, she felt a presence coming up behind her. A sudden chill ran down her spine as she caught a whiff of scent she was accustomed to by now, something woody and fresh with a subtle hint of sweetness.

"Reid," Luke greeted as he gave her a side glance before moving towards Spencer, casually dropping an arm around his shoulders. "It's good to see you. How's your mom?"

Spencer's eyes met hers briefly before responding to Luke, "She's doing well, thanks."

“Good to hear.” Luke nodded his head towards her. "Y/n here was just telling me how much she missed you during the holidays."

Suppressing a groan, she shot him a warning look. Spencer, however, responded with a small smile. "You did?"

Her cheeks warmed slightly, caught off guard by his direct question. She feigned nonchalance, offering a casual shrug. "Please, I was just mourning the lack of someone to challenge my wisdom."

Luke chuckled and gave her one last pointed look before excusing himself with a pretense of Rossi calling him somewhere from the crowd. Her eyes narrowed on his back as he walked away, shaking her head in disbelief. "That man coming close to being second place on my hate list."

"I take it I'm still on your number one spot then."

She turned towards him at the sound of his voice, and now that they were alone, she finally took her time to observe him.

Her eyes scanned his clothes, taking in the details. From the carefully styled hair that hinted at the time he took to prepare, to the open dress shirt that he seemed unbothered to button all the way, exposing his long neck and the slight expanse of his chest. He looked good. He looked clean, polished, and undeniably handsome.

She blinked and cleared her throat, attempting to regain composure. "Well, you certainly took your time getting ready."

He met her gaze with a hint of amusement in his eyes, seemingly aware of her scrutinizing observation. "I believe in making a good impression," he replied, a subtle smile on his lips.

She arched an eyebrow, resisting the urge to acknowledge the effect his appearance had on her. "Trying to win over the crowd with something beyond your brain?"

"Partly," he admitted, "And partly because someone once told me that a well-dressed genius is a force to be reckoned with."

"Must have been Garcia."

He grinned. "You know her well."

She took another sip of her drink, a blend of sweet and bitter notes dancing on her tongue. Keeping her eyes on him over the rim of her glass, she observed the play of shadows on his face, accentuating the angles of his features. The ambient light from the party cast a subtle glow, and she couldn't help but notice how it highlighted the soft strands of hair that fell gracefully across his forehead.

"I'm actually surprised to see you here," she slowly remarked, her voice laced with curiosity.

"Surprised? Should I be offended?"

"I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

"I'm not," he agreed. "The only exception of social gathering I can endure is with everyone present here."

"Including me?"

“Especially you."

Her demeanor faltered for a split second, caught off guard by the unexpected turn in his tone. It wasn't the usual witty remark she anticipated. A flicker of surprise crossed her features before she could conceal it, her throat clearing as she attempted to regain control over her beating heart.

"Especially… me?" she echoed, attempting to mask the surprise in her voice.

Spencer's gaze held a warmth that felt unfamiliar, and he nodded. "It seems social events are more bearable when you're around."

She tilted her head and studied him. "You're just saying that because you have someone to pick a fight with."

"A fight?" He wondered. "Is that what we've been doing?"

"It's what we've always been doing."

"Not for the past few weeks, we haven't."

She knew what he was referring to. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of indulging in a conversation about their sexual escapades, she instead responded with, "Well, you haven't, I'm still trying to play my part here."

He chuckled softly, the sound resonating in the quiet space between them. "And what part would that be?"

"The one where I constantly question the liability of your knowledge, of course."

Spencer's smile widened, the lines of his face softening. "Maybe," he began, his voice low, "We can explore different roles that don't involve any fighting."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting a truce, Dr. Reid?"

"More like a change of tactics, Dr. L/n," he replied, gently taking the glass from her hand and placing it by the bar.

Her frown deepened, uncertainty in her eyes. "What are you doing?"

He nodded toward the center of the backyard where most of their team members filled the space of the party. "Dance with me."

She gazed towards the dance floor, then back at him, and her brows furrowed. That did not sound like the Spencer she knew, heck, she wasn't sure she had ever seen him dance before. Her eyes narrowed further when he gave her a grin.

"Come on, it's just a dance. It won't kill you," he urged, extending a hand towards her.

She eyed his outstretched hand with mock skepticism. "Are you implying that dancing with you is some kind of survival?"

Spencer grinned. "Considering the number of times you've survived my intellect, this should be a walk in the park."

She rolled her eyes. "Intellect, yes. Dancing? I'll take my chances."

"Are you afraid you'll step on my toes?" he teased.

"More like I'm afraid you'll step on mine," she shot back.

Spencer chuckled. "Just one dance, and if you don't enjoy it, you can revert to questioning the liability of my knowledge."

Her eyes drifted between his outstretched hand and his gaze, a silent contemplation unfolding within her. She knew that if she agreed to this, there was no turning back. Was it a wise decision? Probably not. But a small, rebellious part of her was curious to see how the night would unfold.

Spencer watched her with a patient expression, his hand still extended. The music continued to play, a steady beat that seemed to echo the pulse of the night, and after a moment's hesitation, she sighed in mock exasperation.

"Fine," she said, finally placing her hand in his, "But I reserve the right to make sarcastic remarks about your dance moves later."

"Deal," he agreed, leading her onto the dance floor with a grin.

She could feel everyone's scrutiny on them as he pulled her onto the dance floor, her breath hitching when he grabbed her other hand and placed her arms around his neck before snaking his arms around her waist.

"Everyone's watching us, aren't they?" she asked as they started to move to the soft beat of the music.

Spencer's gaze held a mischievous glint as he twirled her around, navigating the dance floor with surprising grace. "Let them watch," he replied, his voice low, sending a shiver down her spine. "It's just a dance, after all."

"You don't strike me as the 'just a dance' kind of person." She arched an eyebrow, unable to shake off the sense that there was more to this move than met the eye. "You don't even strike me as someone who even knows how to dance."

He shrugged. "Dancing is easy. All you have to do is move in circles and hold on to your partner."

He proved his point by pulling her further into his arms, and she couldn't help but notice the contrast in their heights. His broad chest pressed against her, the softness of his abdomen against her stomach, while his arms securely wrapped around her body.

Her breath caught for a moment, her gaze instinctively locking with his. The initial awkwardness transformed into a surprising ease, and she reciprocated the movements with a newfound confidence. The subtle sways and turns took on a rhythm of their own, syncing perfectly with the music that enveloped them.

"See?" he whispered, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down her spine. "Easy."

They continued to move to the rhythm, and she couldn't help but notice the intensity in his gaze. The world around them seemed to blur, and for a moment, she actually enjoyed being held close to him.

But before she could fully relax in his arms, JJ appeared on the dance floor, hand in hand with her husband Will. The look of disbelief in their friend's eyes was unmistakable as the couple approached them while being tangled in their own dance.

"Are my eyes deceiving me," JJ teased, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Or are you two getting along quite well?"

She rolled her eyes, attempting to maintain a casual facade. "It's just a dance. Don't read too much into it."

JJ's grin widened as she exchanged a knowing look with Will. "I didn't think I'd see the day when you and Reid would willingly share the dance floor."

She shot a glance at Spencer, and there was a momentary flicker of something in his eyes—was it surprise? amusement? She couldn't quite place it. Collecting herself, she responded with a mock grimace, "He forced me into it."

Spencer's expression turned playful. "I have a way of convincing people to do things they didn't know they wanted to do."

"You mean manipulate."

He chuckled. "Persuade, Y/n. It's all about perspective."

From the corner of her eyes, she saw JJ and Will exchanging another pointed look. "Either way, you both look like you're having a good time."

"And you both look good together," Will added.

"Thank you."

"We're not together."

They both looked at each other while JJ raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. "Yet here you are. Spence, you might have just discovered a hidden talent—getting Y/n to dance."

She let out a sigh. "Don't encourage him."

Spencer leaned in, his tone low. "You're just mad because you're enjoying this."

She narrowed her eyes. "Let's not get carried away."

"Come on, just admit it," The corners of his lips lifted in a playful smirk. "You're having more fun than you expected."

"Fun?" She scoffed, attempting to deflect the growing warmth in her cheeks. "I wouldn't call this fun. It's just an unfortunate consequence of being at a party."

"Yet you can't deny that you're not entirely opposed to the idea."

She shot him a glare. "You're dangerously close to overestimating your influence."

"Or maybe you're underestimating your willingness to enjoy the moment."

She shook her head, turning towards JJ. "Can you believe him—"

She stopped when she realized they had been left alone for a while, noticing JJ and Will were already at the other side of the dance floor. However as her eyes scanned around them, the scrutiny of the others didn't go unnoticed by her. She fixed her gaze back on Spencer.

"We must be such a sight to see," she remarked. "I bet they're starting some rumors about us."

He raised his eyebrows. "You think they haven't already?"

She sighed, acknowledging his words. "Fair point."

"What do you think they're saying about us?"

She considered for a moment. "That we secretly don't hate each other," she responded after contemplating her answer. "I think they might be disappointed when they realize the truth."

His arms instinctively tightened around her waist. "And what's the truth?"

She studied him, her heart suddenly beating fast. Weeks ago, she would have answered the question with certainty, stating that they were nothing more than coworkers who were both very stubborn. But as she felt his eyes watching her intently, she wasn't so sure anymore.

"The truth?" she echoed, her voice a little softer than she intended. "I don't know, Reid. What is our truth?"

He held her gaze, and for a moment, she was hypnotized by the look in his eyes. "Well, the part where we secretly don't hate each other is true, for me at least."

Her breath caught as she absorbed his words.

“…you don't hate me?"

"Hate is a very strong word." Spencer leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Hate is often fueled by fear or misunderstanding. It's a complex emotion rooted in our perceptions and experiences. So, in a way, hate is a reflection of the mind rather than a true evaluation of a person."

She couldn't help but let out a disbelieving laugh. "Did you just use psychology to explain why you don't hate me?"

"Considering our line of work, it seemed appropriate."

She shook her head in amusement. "Only you would analyze hate in the middle of a dance."

Spencer continued, "Well, understanding emotions is crucial in our field. And I believe there's more to us than mere hostility."

She pursed her lips together, her mind suddenly going through the times they often bickered. "I still find it hard to believe you didn't hate me the first time we met."

"Dislike would be a better way to put it. But I was at my lowest point at that time. It wasn't just you, I was angry at everyone. At the circumstances. At myself." He slightly leaned back and sighed. "And I admit, it was wrong of me to take it out on you."

Then after a moment of silence, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

She felt the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against hers. The apology hung in the air and she found herself at a loss for words. For a fleeting moment, the walls she had built seemed to crumble, leaving her standing on the precipice of something unfamiliar.

She took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper, "And how do you see me now?"

Spencer's gaze held a thoughtful intensity as he considered her question. "I think you're someone who challenges me. There's a depth to you beyond the harsh glare and cold shoulder." He eased, pressing a hand on her lower back. "And, if I may say, someone who looks surprisingly stunning on the dance floor."

A blush crept over her cheeks, and she narrowed her eyes, wondering if he had another motive behind the compliment. "You're using flattery now? Are you trying to get in my pants again?"

He laughed. "Is it working?"

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. "Nice try, Reid. Flattery might get you far, but not that far."

His grin widened, and he guided her through the dance floor with ease. "Well, I'll have to come up with better tactics then."

His touch, gentle and deliberate, sent a shiver down her spine as his thumb traced an almost hypnotic pattern on the small of her back through the fabric of her dress. The soft caress felt both intimate and tender, catching her off guard. "I mean it though," he said, his voice a soft murmur that resonated with honesty. "You do look beautiful tonight."

There was something in his gaze that was unfamiliar, even hearing him easily compliment her was foreign in her ears. Her confusion must have been evident on her face because he smiled at her. "What?"

She shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. "Nothing. It's just... unexpected, coming from you."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her as they moved in sync with the music. "It's part of my New Year's resolution."

"What? To be nicer?" She guessed. "Be a better person?"

"To be a better person for you," he corrected.

Her heartbeat picked up, and she found herself drawing closer to him, the music weaving a subtle spell around them. The warmth radiating from him, the soft glow of the string lights, and the gentle melody created an intimate atmosphere that blurred the lines between the hostility she often wore.

The distance between them diminished, and she felt the subtle shift in the air. Without registering what she was doing, her fingers came up behind his neck, softly playing with the strands of his hair. They were so soft, just like the look reflected in his eyes. Then her gaze went down to his lips; they too looked incredibly soft.

"Stop looking at me like that."

Her eyes snapped to his. "Like what?"

"Like you want to close the distance between us," he whispered, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down her spine. "Because I'm trying to restrain myself from doing just that."

His fingers found the small of her back, pressing gently, while hers continued their silent dance in his hair. Every touch, every movement, fueled the escalating heat between them. His proximity was intoxicating, and the magnetic pull between them was undeniable. The distance diminished further until she could feel his breath, warm and inviting, grazing against her lips.

But before she could indulge herself, Garcia's voice echoed somewhere in the crowd. "It's the final countdown, people!"

Suddenly becoming aware of their surroundings, she released her arms from around his neck and shifted her gaze elsewhere. Her eyes landed on the projector screen, previously used by the kids for a movie marathon and now it displayed the vibrant scenes of people joyously ringing in the New Year celebration.

As the digital numbers on the screen ticked down, the energy in the backyard intensified. The countdown became a collective heartbeat, a shared anticipation that echoed through the crowd.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!"

In those final moments, she stole a glance at Spencer, their eyes locking silently.

"Seven! Six! Five!"

But his stare became so intense that she quickly looked away.

"Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!"

The cheers erupted, and the backyard was bathed in the glow of fireworks, the sky above adorned with bursts of color. She watched the dazzling display in awe, the explosions of light reflecting in her eyes.

Amidst the celebratory chaos, she noticed her friends wrapped in the arms of their loved ones, celebrating happily. JJ and Will shared a sweet kiss, Simmons was embraced by his family, Penelope and Luke exchanged laughter, and even Rossi, with a subtle smile, clinked glasses with Emily and Tara.

And as the colorful explosions painted the night sky, she felt a lingering gaze on her. Turning, she found Spencer watching her intently. His eyes were searching hers as if he were asking for permission to close the short distance separating them.

She knew what he meant. It was beyond asking permission to kiss her. It was a gentle plea to understand the unspoken boundaries that lingered between them. Engaging in intimacy behind closed doors was one thing, but to take that step in front of their peers meant exposing a vulnerability she had carefully guarded. Did she want to cross that line?

A part of her wavered, finding herself drawn to him—his warm brown eyes, his smile, everything about him seemed to call out to a part of her that she had kept guarded. The barriers she had meticulously built started to feel like fragile walls as everything around them started to fade, leaving only the soft glow of string lights and the distant echoes of laughter.

Oh, fuck it.

Feeling the pull of an undeniable force, she took a step closer with a small, bashful smile playing on her lips. It was all the answer he needed. Closing the distance between them, he framed her face with his large hands, his warm touch sending a shiver down her spine. Surrounded by the cheers of the crowd and the vibrant display of fireworks overhead, he finally leaned down, gently brushing his lips against hers.

Warmth spread through her body as he held her, his touch gentle yet possessive. He tipped her jaw, allowing his mouth to move along with hers. His tongue easily slipped into her as he continued to taste the subtle hint of liquor she had been drinking. Spencer was never one to drink, but he didn't mind tasting it on her. If anything, he couldn't get enough.

Her arms instinctively traveled underneath his suit jacket, seeking more of his warmth as she wrapped them around his waist. The fabric of his suit was smooth under her fingertips, and the heat of his body radiated through the layers of clothing.

The kiss deepened as he continued to explore her mouth, growing more intense with each passing second, and it wasn't until they heard someone through their haze calling out, "There are kids here!" that he finally pulled away.

He laughed, a soft, genuine sound and she couldn't help but join in. He then rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space that separated them. The lingering taste of their kiss hung in the air, and for a moment, they simply stood there. The reality of the situation slowly sank in, and they exchanged a glance filled with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"I guess we got carried away," he mumbled.

"You think?" She chuckled, her fingers playing with the lapels of his suit jacket. "We should keep it PG-13 for now."

His fingers gently traced the curve of her cheek. "Does that mean we can go R-rated later?"

She let out a laugh, throwing her head back in mirth. "You're relentless."

He smiled, savoring the moment of ease between them, and he found himself captivated by the genuine joy she radiated. His gaze traveled around the backyard and noticed everyone watching them with amused grins. He leaned down and pulled her flush against him. "Everyone's watching us."

She groaned and hid her face in the crook of his neck. "I can already imagine their teasing."

There was a moment of silence before he responded, "I think it's worth it."

"What is?" she mumbled into his neck.

He pulled away and looked down at her. In a tender gesture, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "I can handle the constant teasing if it means I get to hold you like this."

The corners of her lips curled into a soft smile. "You're willing to endure their teasing just to hold me?"

His gaze met hers, unwavering. "More than willing."

Her gaze softened as she looked at him. She couldn't believe how this night had turned out, yet, here they were—wrapped up in a dance of their own. It was a position she would've never imagined herself in. And despite her best efforts to resist, the walls she had meticulously built were crumbling.

"Can I kiss you again?" He whispered. "I promise I'll make it family-friendly."

The corners of her lips curled as she laughed. The unexpected turn of events had brought them to a place she never anticipated, but surprisingly, it felt oddly right.

"I suppose one more won't hurt."

His smile widened, and with a hint of mischief in his eyes, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. "Happy New Year," he whispered against her lips.

She found herself smiling, realizing that perhaps, unexpected as it was, this change of year wasn't so bad. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, and wondered where her life would take her this year. The path ahead seemed unclear, but one thing was certain—Spencer Reid had managed to find his way into her heart.

.

a/n: if you’ve followed the story since lose control, this is the ending for this short series. As much as I wanted to write smut again for the last part, the fluff was calling out to me :3

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[housetargaryenloyalist]

From a seed grows

Chapter I: Thyme

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Synopsis: To claim a dragon one must be prepared to give up their life, yet this is the one thing you never wished to give up.

Wordcount: 3.5K

Warnings: implications of death, mentions of death, but really light nothing graphic.

Author's note: It's done, the first chapter! Fun little fact: every chapter will be named after a plant/flower that represents an emotion/theme of one of the characters :) I put a lot of thought into this story, the chapter names, and the character so I hope you will feel that as you read.

One last thing, a huge thank you to @madame-fear for showing interest into the story which prompted me to continue working on it! I adore her and her work, you should check out her blog!

English is not my first language, apologies for any mistakes.

Happy reading <3

‎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ♡Masterlist♡ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Blood dripped from your hands, the dagger clattering to the floor. The sound echoed through the dark, empty alleyway and reverberated in your head. Soft, sharp gasps left you as you staggered backwards, your legs struggling to keep you standing as you buckled to the ground.

Blood dripped from your hands, the dagger clattering to the floor. The sound echoed through the dark, empty alleyway and reverberated in your head. Soft, sharp gasps left you as you staggered backwards, your legs struggling to keep you standing as you buckled to the ground.

“What have I done?” your voice whispered to the night, your hands gripped the stone of the street as you struggled to regain your breath. You couldn’t stay here; staying here meant getting caught, getting caught meant being punished, and the punishment would most likely be death.

A life for a life.

You looked around you, hoping you were concealed enough that you wouldn’t be recognized. The only light was a single street lantern at the entry to the alley and the moon. You knew you had very few options: leave the city, leave and hope you’ll never be found out, be found out and flogged, tortured, flayed, or hanged. None of them sounded particularly great, but one sounded the best.

You crawled to where you had dropped the dagger, knowing you couldn’t leave it behind, no matter how rusty or stained it was. You took out an old handkerchief you always carried and wiped the blood off the blade, before stuffing the dagger in its holder. You sat there for a moment, trying to regain your breath before forcing yourself upwards and onwards. You prayed as you walked towards your home, prayed for forgiveness, prayed for mercy, prayed for help.

Prayed to all the Gods you knew of, old and new, to grant you safe passage out of the city. You passed people and shops, pleasure houses and closed homes, you passed by your life, your dreams and hopes. All to be left behind.

A moment later you were at the humble shack you called home, or at least your home was one of the rooms within the shack. Fleabottom wasn’t known for having particularly good real estate, but you and all the others made do. You went to your room, unlocking the shabby door that had seen too many beatings to really be considered safe and entered your little haven.

It was by all accounts small and in an abysmal shape, mold decorated the bleak walls alongside various other stains whom you did not wish to identify. Your bed was on the left side of the room, with a clear view of the door (just in case) and your small, very small, dresser was in front of it.

You dug through the room searching for a bag of any kind, when you found it you filled it with anything that could be considered even remotely valuable. It may have been little, but it should allow you to buy a one-way trip on a ship. The destination mattered little, as long as it wasn’t King's Landing.

As you ruffled through the top drawer of the dresser you stumbled upon what felt like a button. In all your years of owning it, you had never once felt this weird object hidden amidst your possessions. Curiosity beguiled you to push it and a latch opened on the top of the dresser, revealing a small hidden compartment.

Although curiosity had won the first battle, you were unsure if you wanted it to win this one. Alas, you had dipped a toe in the water and the waves were now too strong to get out. A hidden compartment was no novelty, many stories started with the protagonist finding an object of great significance in such a place and then embarking on an earth-changing adventure to save all of mankind.

You, however, felt like quite the opposite of such, even when your fingers felt an object hidden in the dark, hidden place. You almost laughed at the absurdity of this day, perhaps the Gods above were in a jesting mood. Slowly, carefully, you pulled the strange object from its hiding place, and soon you were face to face with something you had never seen before.

It looked to be a necklace, a simple silver chain with a simple pendant, it looked much like the necklaces you saw people wear around Flea Bottom. There was truly nothing notable about it, except for maybe the seven-pointed star of the Seven decorating the front and the small engraving on the back.

An engraving that had faded badly, presumably from the necklace having been worn a lot. It could only be seen when held at a certain angle, with ample light to decipher the words: Naejot issa byka zaldrīzes.

You rolled the words over your tongue, trying your hardest to grasp whatever language it was. It sounded oddly familiar, as if it were something from a dream, a memory unclear and nearly forgotten but now resurfacing. Whatever the words may mean, you presumed them to be words the previous owner must have cherished when taking into account how faded they were.

As you looked at the words more closely you noticed small initials beneath them, your eyes lit up slightly. This necklace must have been a gift. The initials were vague, two letters common enough they could belong to anyone.

A.T.

An odd feeling washed over you as you imagined what must have happened to the owner of this beautiful piece, how it ended up hidden in a dirty old dresser, in a shabby room in an even shabbier house. You did not have much time left to waste pondering the necklace’s history, dawn was creeping up into the sky, you could see small streaks of early morning light on the horizon.

In a hurry you put the necklace around your neck and hid it under your simple clothes. You braided your hair, in a quick manner, so it would not hinder you as you hurried through the maze of Flea Bottom.

You arrived at the harbor quickly through some risky but effective shortcuts, nearly avoiding a drunken brawl. At last you had made it to what would hopefully lead you to safety, or close to it. Sailors were moving around you carrying various sizes of knapsacks and their fellow sailors who had partaken too much in cheap ale. Dockworkers were starting their morning shifts as they moved to unload the various ships laying in their docks.

They carried crates filled with the finest fabrics, with spices you could not pronounce nor taste for they would surely cost more than you’d ever be able to afford. Your eyes wandered around to find someone you could approach and soon enough you spotted a young man with silvery blond hair and shabby clothes moving towards one of the ships. As you looked to see where he was going, you noticed some others moving towards the same ship. All sporting that same silvery blond hair.

You jogged towards the man who was surprised to see you approach him, “excuse me,” you smiled at him as he came to a halt, a silent invitation for you to continue, “where is that ship headed?”

The man furrowed his eyebrows at you, as if you just asked the most idiotic thing known to man. “To Dragonstone,” was all he said before he took off, increasing the speed in his step, almost as if to deter you from following.

You pondered to yourself for a moment, as you watched more silvery blondes approach the ship. There had been rumors, for there are always rumors in Flea Bottom, about the Black Queen looking for Targaryen bastards. Anyone with either silvery blond hair, lilac eyes, or both or even neither was urged to come to Dragonstone for an opportunity to bond with a dragon. Perhaps it was more than a rumor as you saw more and more people board the ship.

It was foolish, really, truly, well and wholly foolish, you thought to yourself as you stood in front of Dragonstone, the holdfast large and formidable. Guards escorted the large group to a small courtyard, as you looked through the crowd most of them had silvery blond hair, some light, others dark. There were a few on the other hand who had come with brown hair, red hair, or even black.

All had come to stand before the Black Queen, to serve her cause by potentially claiming a Targaryen dragon. On your journey, the people had been speaking of nothing else but the dragons, their size, their coloring, their behavior.

Much regarding the opinions of dragons had changed after the Greens paraded Meleys’ head around King’s Landing for all to see. There used to hang an air of unspoken devotion to dragons, they were to be feared, regaled, and not opposed, unless one wished for imminent death.

They were gods flying high above men, and the people who rode them were their only link to humanity. Now the smallfolk knew dragons were mortal, killable, vulnerable, and that the very house who rode them also killed them, paraded them, and unlike the small folk, did not worship them.

People whispered of killing dragons, where before those words were said in bouts of drunken foolishness, they were now said with drunken confidence. The people were hungry, and the dragons were potential food. Food for the stomach of starving men, ailing peasants, and also food to fuel a rebellion.

So now, for one of these dragonriders to actively seek out Targaryen bastards and lure them with a possibility of becoming equals, many could not resist. Not even you. You knew the dangers involved in claiming such a phenomenal beast, knew it most likely meant your death if you truly tried to claim a dragon. You also knew that you were now away from King’s Landing, in what could possibly be the only place safe for no one would dare attack this stronghold with all the dragons that lay within.

A guard came up to you as you were letting your eyes wander, his Kingsguard uniform reflecting the sun caught your attention, “Hoods down,” he commanded as he reached over to pull it down himself.

Before you could stop him, you could already feel the wind tussling your braid and tickling your ear. Now, with your hood down and hair a mess, you were just like all the others.

A silver-haired bastard.

A dragonseed.

What a cruel fate you had.

Not long after, a young man strolled up to a platform in the courtyard, silence befell the crowd as they realized who he was.

Clad in the dark red and black of the Targaryens, his hands crossed on top of the pommel of his sword, brown curls whirling around his face.

Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne, daughter to Rhaenyra Targaryen, and he was a beautiful, beautiful man. He addressed the crowds, warning them of the danger, thanking them for their arrival, yet it all felt weirdly aggressive. There was no thankfulness or appreciation to be found in his tone, his brows furrowed and his lips downturned.

You heard a man behind you whisper that he was just a coddled princeling and another chuckled in response, you looked behind you briefly hoping that a stare would silence them. As you looked up back to the prince, you noticed him looking in your very direction. It almost felt as though he was looking directly at you, into your own eyes.

Others who had the same notion as you lowered their heads in reverence, in respect for their prince albeit that some carried an air of reluctance to them as they did. You felt no such devotion, felt no such need and your actions reflected that. There would be no bowing to a man meters in front of you, who spoke to you with contempt, as if your lives meant nothing at all.

His speech was over quickly, and he was gone with a few guards following in his steps. Another guard stepped up and made one last declaration before the group was to go into the dragons’ lair. “All those who wish to leave may leave, no harm shall befall you. You will be escorted back via ship at the earliest possible moment. All the others-” he signaled another guard who opened up the barricades put in place earlier, “follow me.”

Many of the crowd left, deciding that the threat of death so brutal was too large to face in comparison to the one they would face in King’s Landing. You supposed you could not blame them, a death by dragon fire or dragon stomping didn’t sound pleasant, however the fate that would no doubt await you in Flea Bottom sounded worse.

The ones left over were escorted to the inner parts of the castle, staircase after staircase, never once allowed to dawdle or gawk. The Queensguard were strict and didn’t hesitate to employ certain tactics to keep all in line. You winced as one of the guards struck a young man for touching a statue, the guard said nothing as he did so, only pushing the lad back into the line when he was done.

Tears pricked in the corner of the boy’s eyes, his hand cradling his hurting cheek. He had been pushed right in front of you, almost causing you two to collide. You tapped his shoulder as you procured an old handkerchief from your pocket, “here” you said as you practically shoved it into his non-occupied hand. He smiled a soft smile at you in thanks, before taking the fabric and dabbing at his eyes.

He didn’t seem much younger than you, perhaps he wasn’t. You didn’t ponder it too much however, chances were that he would die in the dragon pit just like many others. There would be no benefit in cosying up with the others, knowing that after this most of you will likely be dead or have risen too far in station to consider yourself with your lessers.

You cursed yourself and your cynicism often, however, today you proved yourself right. You were clinging to the walls of the dragon’s cave, hoping for dear life he had not seen you. The only light source you had were the flames that had come from Vermithor as he erupted in a fury that made him worthy of his name.

By now he must have devoured nearly all of the bastards that came to try and stake a claim. You pitied all of them, they tried to improve their standing however now all they were were ash and bones. Growls followed by screams were heard in the distance from yourself, perhaps the distance was large enough for you to get out and run, flee, escape, whatever the apt word might be.

An escape would be difficult, were it not for the fact that Vermithor was deeply engrossed in hunting a few people in the opposite direction of where you needed to go. You stalked through his enclosure with practiced ease, you tried to remain calm with your heart pounding in your chest, clouding your hearing and making your breath erratic. You refused to die here, you refused to be a burned corpse or some dragon’s dinner. No, you wanted to be more, so much more.

You wanted to be more than a peasant from Flea Bottom, a silver-haired bastard, a woman, you wanted to be more than all that. You wanted to be more than a dragonseed, more than what your parents doomed you to be. In order to achieve that, you would need to rise to the occasion and escape. With every ounce of strength, willpower, resentment, and fear you had in you, you ran towards the exit.

As you reached the opening you noticed it didn’t lead to solid ground, no grass or rocks to greet you. As you smelled the fresh air you also smelled the unmistakable smell of the sea. A salty fishy smell filled your nostrils and consumed your lungs.

Into the sea you soon jumped, a stupid, reckless idea, but far better than trying to climb down a mountain. All you hoped for was that the Gods would show you mercy and carry you to shore. The sea was cold, colder than you had expected, it took you great power to swim close to shore and drag your body through the sand before collapsing.

Your chest moved up and down in quick succession, desperate for air, as you tried to regain your strength you closed your eyes, letting the happenings of the day pass through your mind.

Sleep tried to claim you, alas, it was to no avail, for soon thereafter a loud roar resonated into the sky causing you to bolt upright from where you laid. A winged creature flew above you. It was large and formidable, you believed it to be even larger than the dragon you had seen in the Dragonstone caves.

The formidable beast’s shadow covered you as it flew over the sun, for as far as your eyes could see the world was now shrouded in darkness, only in the far distance could you see the sun rays touch the ground once more. The roars it let out were bone-chilling, a feeling of dread had washed over you from the moment you rose but now you were rooted to the ground with the fear of death settling in your veins which ironically left you unable to move. You had never imagined your death this way. Where nobles imagined dying in their canopy beds on silken sheets, you would be lucky if you died by a clean cut to your neck.

Now, however, it seemed you would die from this dragon thinking you made a decent hors d'oeuvre, before finding something larger or more plentiful to truly fill its stomach. Gods you really had a most cruel fate.

Once more a deafening roar resounded to the sky, causing your knees to buckle in fear as your hands shot to your ears in a vain attempt to dampen the noise. You kept your eyes locked onto the large figure as it soared through the sky, going higher and then lower, as if taunting you, playing with you, truly regarding you as prey.

In an odd way it frustrated you, standing there, waiting, baiting your breath as to when the dragon finally decided to end you. Anger rose through you more and more the longer this cat and mouse dance continued. Fear became an afterthought as your anger of a futile death overcame you.

“I’m here!” You screamed at the sky “Kill me! I dare you!” If anyone saw you, they’d be regarding you as a madwoman, which admittedly you were. However, it seemed as though no one was there, on this vast beach with waves continuing their cycle of ebb and flow, you were alone. Alone with the dragon. One last attempt you thought as you opened your mouth to scream, yet no sound could come for that very moment the dragon chose to descend onto the ground.

Your frozen feet suddenly could not move any faster, the large dragon got closer as you scrambled to get away, the sand making for incredibly difficult terrain when you want to be quick. One wrong step and you were sent tumbling down, face first in the sand. With the thought of impending death overtaking your mind, you found the tiniest bit of energy to turn around. In doing so, you were facing the dragon as it descended, shielding your eyes as sand was blown in all directions from the beating of the wings. A loud thud echoed on the empty beach as the beast finally stood on solid ground, its large body covered you in shadow.

Its snout was so close to your face, you could feel the puffs of hot breath. Bright, emerald green eyes were in stark contrast to the pitch black of its scales. The dragon was magnificent as it was terrifying, you gulped and took rapid breaths. Panic had settled in now, panic, fear, and anger, none were a pretty feeling. One of your hands went up to clutch your new necklace as you closed your eyes.

Waiting for the inevitable.

.

.

.

On a distant dune stood a smaller dragon, much smaller than the one hovering over the young woman. Upon that small dragon, with scales of olive green and wings decorated with a pale orange, sat the young prince, a spyglass held to one of his eyes as he witnessed the scene.

A part of him felt a great sense of pity for the woman. She looked young, perhaps around his age, and she had showed great courage in fleeing from Vermithor. A pity she would die so soon, yet at the same time. A bastard less or more would not make any difference

He closed his spyglass and pocketed it inside his tunic. There was no need to watch the scene unfold, he thought. He buckled his saddle tighter and spoke to his dragon, “sōvēs Vermax.”

[cutielando]

FIC IDEA WITH LANDO: So reader recently moved to Monaco bc of her job (any remote job u want and content creater) anyways she is working at a café just to get some money and lando is a customer. He flirts with her and stuff and she writes her number on the cup without him noticing at the moment. The reader then like a week later mentions it to her friend and talks about how he did not respond yet and like what exactly happened not knowing her friend was on live and her fans get invested and call this mystery boy “café boy” (kind of like Alix Earle with nfl man) Then McLaren invites the reader to the paddock and lando sees her and then have like a talk together in his drivers room and he mentions how he was nervous to text or something. After she makes a soft launch post captioned “my café boy 🤎”. IF U DO IT PLEASE TAG ME!

my coffee boy | lando norris

synopsis: in which you met the love of your life when you least expected it

a/n: thank you so much @idkyet101sblog for the amazing idea 🤎

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user1 mother is finally living her dream 😭

francisca.cgomes yayy!!!!!❤️❤️

yourusername ❤️❤️

yourbestfriend can’t believe you left me behind 🥲 JK I’M SO HAPPY FOR YOU ❤️❤️

yourusername i miss you already 😭😭❤️

user2 who is she?

user3 she’s a content creator and up-and-coming model🫶🏻 she makes a lot of F1 content since she is very good friends with Kika

user2 how come i’ve never heard of her until now?

user4 she’s only starting to become famous and accustomed to the public eye, maybe that’s why

yourmother so proud of you!!❤️❤️

yourusername love you mom!!!!

user5 if i don't grow up to be just like Y/N, i'm giving up

Real life

Moving to Monaco had always been your dream. Living in the beautiful country right on the water, starting a new life in such a peaceful place and being able to follow your dreams.

It had been your dream ever since you were a little girl.

However, moving to Monaco was in itself very pricey. It hadn’t been easy, gathering the money you needed to lead a relatively comfortable lifestyle in the exclusivist country, but you had managed to do so.

And now, you now had to step up a bit until things got going for you.

And you figured that working at the local coffee shop was the best solution. At least just until you got settled in your new home country and your career kicked in.

You knew that Monaco was the home to a lot of athletes, especially Formula 1 drivers, but you didn't really expect to meet any of them. Monaco was not really as small of a place as people thought, you wouldn't just run into an F1 driver in the street that casually.

No, you run into them at coffee shops.

You had been minding your own business one day, thankful that it was still early and people were not yet coming for coffee. But then the entrance bell rang, and your eyes met the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on.

The one and only, Lando Norris.

You didn't want to seem like an obsessed fan, so you tried to keep your excitement at bay the best you could.

"Hello" he greeted when he approached the counter, that famous smirk adorning his features.

"Hi. What can I get you?" you asked sweetly, praying to God that he wouldn't notice the furious blush on your cheeks.

"I'll just have a cappuccino, love" he asked, giving you a dazzling smile.

You blushed even more and nodded, getting to work on his drink.

He didn't say anything else for a second, he just watched and admired your movements as you effortlessly prepared his coffee.

"I haven't seen you around here before, and trust me. I would have remembered a face as beautiful as yours" Lando suddenly asked, leaning forward against the counter.

You almost did a double take, not wanting to get your hopes up. Was he actually flirting with you? Were you just dreaming?

You cleared your throat before you answered, which made Lando smile even more cockily.

"I just moved here a couple of days ago, got a job with a modelling agency and figured I would work for some extra money until the modelling gigs kick in" you explained, looking at his from the corner of your eye to see his wide eyes when you mentioned being a model.

"With a face as beautiful as yours, figured you were a model of some sort. Nobody would pass on someone as pretty as you"

You blushed again, thankful that the shop was almost empty and people couldn't see you falling apart just from talking to the man.

"Do you flirt with every barista you meet, Mr. Norris?" you teased, pouring the drink into a to-go cup.

"Just the insanely pretty ones"

You chuckled and shook your head, taking the sharpie in your hand to write his name on the cup. As soon as you wrote his name, your hand moved on its own, scribbling your phone number underneath and the message 'call me <3' next to it.

Biting your lip, you gave him the drink with a smile, biding your goodbyes.

"I'll see you around, Y/N" he said, looking at your name tag.

"Okay" was all you could say, your mind too fuzzy to come up with a better response.

He turned around just before he exited the cafe, winking at you before departing.

What the hell had just happened?

♡♡♡♡♡

Much to your disappointment, a couple of days had gone by without a single text from the driver.

You hadn't thought much of it, way too busy with unpacking and such to even think about your encounter. It was our friend who kept asking you about it, going out of her mind when you mentioned you had given your number to an F1 driver.

"Y/N, come here, you left me all alone" Samantha, your friend, called out for you from the living room.

You sighed, unwillingly getting out of your very comfortable position on your bed and walked into the living room.

Not even paying attention to what Samantha was doing, you fell on the couch face first, your sore limbs tired from the short walk from the bedroom to the living room.

"I was very comfortable in bed, thank you very much" you mumbled, but Samantha paid you no mind.

She knew how grumpy you got in the evenings, so she had learned to ignore your comments in such instances.

"Has he texted you yet?" she asked, making you glare at her.

"I don't know how many times you've already asked me that and how many times I've given you the exact same answer. No, he hasn't" you grumbled, hiding your face in your pillow.

Samantha hummed, casting a sneaky glance to her phone.

"But like what exactly happened?" she pressed, making you sigh.

"It's not that interesting of a story. He came in the coffee shop, ordered a drink, we flirted a little and then I wrote my number on his cup" you explained once again, and unbeknownst to you, your fans were going wild over the information they had just heard.

Samantha almost wanted to laugh when she saw the dozens of comments flooding in, calling Lando the "mysterious café boy" that hadn't texted you.

"If I were him, I would have texted you the minute I walked out" she defended, making you sigh.

"But you're not him. There are numerous reasons that could explain why he hasn't texted me, he's a busy guy, Samantha" you defended, getting up from the couch to head back to your bedroom, so done with the conversation.

Samantha waited until the door was closed before switching her attention back to her phone.

"And there you go, ladies and gentlemen. Our girl is finally finding love" she giggled, clapping her hands.

If only Lando would have the courage to make the first step.

♡♡♡♡♡

You had always been a fan of Formula 1, you got that from your father. He would always bring you with him to races when you were younger, and his love and admiration was passed onto you from a very young age.

However, you hadn't attended a race in a while, you hadn't had the opportunity or the time to go to one.

Until now.

McLaren had contacted you a couple of days before the Silverstone Grand Prix, inviting you as their VIP guest for the weekend. And who were you to refuse a weekend with the team of the guy you were crushing on?

That's how you found yourself walking towards the McLaren hospitality, bag clutched tightly in your hand as you approached the brightly papaya colored building.

Sighing with a smile on your face, you had just put your hand on the handle when the door opened from the inside and Lando stepped out, stopping in his tracks when he saw you in front of him.

The both of you froze, not knowing how to react. The first one to break the tension was Lando, who smiled at you widely.

"Hey, Y/N. Long time no see" he said, making you chuckle and nod.

"Yeah"

He nodded, and silence settled for a split second between the two of you before he spoke up.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't text you. I saw your number, even saved it in my phone and was meaning to say something. I was just too nervous to screw things up, cause I really like you" he confessed, making your heartbeat quicken significantly.

Your eyes widened, and relief finally settled into your troubled mind. There had been so many thoughts and theories in your head about why he hadn't contacted you. Maybe you had misread the situation, maybe he wasn't interested, maybe he didn't see your number written next to his name, countless possibilities had been swirling around in your head.

But now, you were finally content. He was just nervous, bless his heart. If you were being fair, you would have been way too nervous to contact him if the roles had been reversed.

"Don't worry, it's okay" you reassured him, which made Lando feel better.

"I want to make it up to you. How about dinner tonight? My treat, I'll show you around the city" he suggested, his eyes full of hope.

You couldn't possibly deny him, so you found yourself nodding.

"Great" he smiled and leaned in to plant a kiss on your cheek before departing towards the garage.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile.

He hadn't forgotten you after all.

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francisca.cgomes i’m so happy for you guys!!!❤️❤️

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user5 some people saw him with someone at the race and think this is his girlfriend

maxfewtrell smooth

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user6 this is basically confirmation that’s Lando 😭

maxfewtrell don’t take my word for it, people

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Pairing: Dark Shouta "Eraserhead" Aizawa x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: You’re bored – stuck inside the house while it’s sunny and nice outside. Aizawa doesn’t care about that. 

WARNINGS: Implied Kidnapping; Captivity.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback 😊

--

From your spot on the couch, you steal a glance at the black-haired man that sits on the table, surrounded by piles of paper. Midterm exams, he said.  

It seems like a boring task, but Shouta doesn’t seem to mind. Unlike you, who’s getting restless by the minute. 

There’s nothing for you to do.

Your hobbies are fairly limited, only granted when Shouta is feeling generous enough to notice your boredom, which hasn’t been the case lately. 

He’s too busy between the Hero course class and patrols, which inevitably results in neglecting you. There are no new books for you to devour and the TV’s control remote is still “missing”. 

The kitchen is off limits, which means no cooking or baking.

There’s nothing to do!

Perhaps you’re not being as sneaky as you believe yourself to be because Shouta’s suddenly looks up to meet your gaze, catching you off guard. 

“If you have something to say, then spill it.” 

You look at him, eyes still round with surprise. 

“Well, I…” The words stammer when coming out and you tautly twist your hands. “I’m bored.” 

Shouta looks at you. 

“Yes, I have noticed.” 

It’s a bit disheartening when he goes back to marking papers, leaving you at that. 

“So…I don’t know. Maybe…I could go to the garden?” 

He pauses his scribbling, and you rush to add, “I wouldn’t be alone, of course! You’d be there too, you could grade the papers on the outside table, right?”

His eyes are sharp when he looks back at you, the neutral expression on his face making it harder for you to decipher his true thoughts. 

“I could.” 

Your heart positively jumps at that, and almost fool yourself into believing that you’ve successfully convinced Shouta to do something for you. You’re wrong.   

“But I won’t.” he denies your request just like that, barely batting an eye as he crushes down your hopes. 

Feeling so upset over it makes you feel stupid, but then again, you haven’t left the four walls of Shouta’s home in weeks.

You’re so tired of being here, trapped in the bland ugly house. Tired of him and his insensitivity. Tired of the obnoxious boring routine that has been forced upon you. Tired of everything.  

“Why not?” you burst, even if it comes out more as a demand. 

Shouta’s eyebrows raise at the intensity of your words, and you inhale a small breath, calming yourself down. 

“Why can’t I go outside?” 

“Because at this moment I have a task at hand. I’m sure you can see that.” 

"But I’ve been good. You said that yourself.” your nails leave half-moons in your palms, an attempt to keep your anger at bay. If there’s one thing you’ve learned over these past months is that Shouta doesn’t appreciate hysterical displays of frivolous emotions.

Useless and energy-consuming – that’s how he calls them. 

“You have.” he pauses for a moment, tone slightly softer as he sets the pen down. “I’m not denying that. You have been exemplary these past weeks.” 

Even when you don’t ask it, the question lingers in the tense air. Then why?

Aizawa answers it.

“It’s got nothing to do with your present behavior.” his reassurance does little to soothe your bubbling frustration. Aizawa seems to sense it, semblant turning somber and stern as he stares at you.

“However, my priority is your safety, not your happiness. Perhaps you still remember the last time you were allowed outside? Or of the … incident that occurred?”

He grimaces at that and so do you. 

The incident meant the one-single time Aizawa took you on a late evening walk, where you ended up bumping into one of his neighbours – an overly enthusiastic blonde man – and in the moment of heat, you ended up taking the poor decision to reveal your hostage situation, hoping for help.

Only for said neighbour to turn out to be Aizawa’s close friend, someone Shouta had asked to test you. 

Needless to say that you failed his loyalty test. Hence the house arrest. 

You glance away from him, opting to ignore his question. Aizawa sighs, taking his sweet time cracking his neck from side to side. 

“Like I was saying,” he resumes the conversation, “I’d prefer to reduce that sort of risk from the root. Perhaps one day, if your behavior remains ideal, we can have this discussion again – in a few months.”

Aizawa looks at you with red-streaked eyes, taking notice of your well-concealed frustration as well as blatantly ignoring it.

Picking up the pen, he continues to correct the papers, marking the end of your little discussion and leaving no space for argument. 

Leaving you back in the reign of boredom. 

[misssmeat]

Any chance of sharing more details about your shock collar training? I love the power disparity they represent; discipline at the push of a button.

Sure! I’m happy to share a bit more about the experience I teased.

It was some years ago, and it was the first night I was meeting and playing with a new partner. Generally I don’t recommend such intensity for a first session with a partner, but I’ll admit that I was young, dumb, and overeager. Nothing bad happened and it was a wonderful experience, but I would do it differently today... just to be safer.

Before any play, he showed me the collar shocking himself and then let me play with the collar and intensities of shocks on my leg and arm.

When I was satisfied and comfortable with the collar, he commanded me to strip for him.

He then bound my hands behind my back before locking the shock collar into place on my neck. The prongs were positioned on the side of my neck, which is usually more sensitive than the front of back.

He added another tie at my elbows, forcing a tight posture that thrust my chest forward. I was commanded to stand and spread my legs hip distance apart while he added a short hobble chain between my ankles.

And then the exercise began.

As I’ve shared before, I love strict power dynamics and protocol. Maybe even more so than the sex itself… and he knew that. He had me walk the length of the room, holding my perfect posture, but keeping my eyes downcast, as an obedient submissive would to not drawn attention to herself. He demanded graceful steps despite the hobble between my legs, no jerks from the bindings or chains, and absolutely no raising my gaze to his face.

He then sat on the sofa with the remote for the collar while I walked back and forth at his command. Every stumble, any time I looked up, or even a moment of less than perfect gait would be corrected with a shock.

As I found confidence in his asks, he would add more challenges. By the end, I was nipple clamped, gagged and had clamps hanging between my legs. Still holding my composure for him, still being corrected by a shock each time I didn’t meet his standards.

I was crying from frustration and pain, but so deep in subspace. Every shock reminded me that I was a plaything, his little pet, existing for his entertainment. And the only way to avoid the electric punishment was to exist as he demanded. I felt myself mold to meet his expectations in real time with the help of the collar. And I loved knowing how powerless I was to lash out, push back, or give attitude of any type.

I could be withering on the ground in pain as a repercussion for my bad behavior, while he barely even had to lift a finger. He would never break a sweat.

All that to say, it’s a treasured memory and one of the hottest things to ever happen to me ever in my whole fucking life.

[aurorawhisperz]

little romance documentary

contains: swearing, fluff, use of y/n and a whole lot of dumb things.

tom!peter parker x stark!reader

a/n: the long-awaited rory comeback! and i’m in my spiderman phase so..the ethan landry stuff will have to wait.

summary: (based off the video diary scene in homecoming) a compilation of all things you’ve done with peter :3

“What are you doing?” You poke at the camera, causing it to shake a little bit. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to show that to the rest of the world.”

Peter shakes his head, “What? No, it’s a little behind-the-scenes thing. Video diary, documentary..” He tries to find the right word.

This is probably why you thought your father hiring someone your age was a bad idea.

“Right, who are you gonna show it to?” And all you can do is stare into the camera while he keeps on recording whatever’s happening in the fancy car.

“Oh, it’s just for me. For memories!” Peter moves the camera away from your view and makes it look like he’s in the spotlight instead.

You’re quite overwhelmed, so you give him a smile in return. “You can do a little introduction.. if you want.” He says with a grin as he makes the camera face you.

“Okay,” You clear your throat, fixing the way you looked. “I’m Y/N Stark, we are going to Germany, currently being driven by my trusty servant, Happy Hogan!”

Happy quickly interrupts the process, “And I’m not too happy with how you have the nerve to call me your trusty servant.” You roll your eyes at his words. “Whatever.”

“And I’m here with uh..Spiderboy!” You continue after a short while, Peter laughs, turning the camera back to himself before correcting the name, “It’s Spiderman, actually..”

The car speeds along the road, and everything felt okay. You were staring into the sun, enjoying and relaxing, Peter was recording you as you were doing so. Admiring how he was able to work with a really cool person..and his daughter.

Reporters and even influencers were calling you a privileged pretty girl, but he didn’t believe those people at all.

You look back at Peter, who’s quick to move the camera in Happy’s direction. You knew what he was doing and all you hoped for was that he didn’t capture a bad angle.

“Okay, okay, let's do this properly,” you say, taking the camera from Peter. “I'm Y/N Stark, the brains and beauty behind this operation. And this,” you turn the camera to Peter, “is Spiderman, our main character and friendly neighborhood hero in Queens.”

Peter gives a mock salute to the camera. “I’m here to save the day or, at the very least, make some pretty cool memories.”

Happy shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips as he focuses on the road ahead. “Just don't get yourselves into too much trouble, kids.”

“Trouble? Us? Neverrrr~” you say with a smirk.

This was also the start of a great friendship.

-

The camera flicks on and Peter’s face fills the screen as he grins mischievously. “Alright, we’re going to pull the ultimate prank on Happy. Wish us luck.” He whispers into the lens.

You appear next to him, just as excited, holding a box. “We’ve been planning this for a while. This is going to be EPIC.” You whisper.

The two of you sneak through the hallway of the lavish suite, making sure you aren’t attracting any attention. Happy was inside his room, absorbed by a movie, completely unaware of what’s happening as usual.

“Ready?” you ask Peter, who nods to the camera.

You press a button on a small remote, activating the surprise. Suddenly, the speakers hidden around the room begin to play the song “WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?”

Happy’s movie is long gone when it’s replaced by a compilation of embarrassing moments such as Happy looking into the fridge at three in the morning, him slipping on the floor, Happy trying (and utterly failing) to dance and getting scared by jumpscares.

He looks up, startled at first. “What the hell..?”

And that was your cue.

You and Peter burst into the room, laughing hysterically. “GOTCHA!” You shout, holding up the camera to capture his reaction. Happy was trying to suppress such levels of anger behind his crossed arms. “Really, kid? You’re involving the boss’s daughter OR SHOULD I SAY THE DEVIL’S OFFSPRING in your shenanigans?”

You both grin sheepishly. “Happy, relax..it was all her idea. I was just the accomplice, I was cool.” Happy shakes his head in disgust. “You’re lucky I have a sense of humor.” He says, holding up a finger as he walks to the bathroom. “THIS MEANS WAR!” Happy yells out.

“Bring it on, grandpa.” You tease. “You’ll never top this.” You and Peter high-five. “Think we need to wrap this up before he gets any other ideas..” Peter scratches his head as you turn the camera back to yourself.

Peter put on a cowboy-ish accent, “Until next time, folks. We are now signing off.” He tips his invisible hat, still grinning.

-

You’re on a plush couch next to the famous Tony Stark, sitting across from Peter who has the camera in his hand.

“Hey, nonexistent audience, welcome back to our comedy club! We’re here with Mr. Stark since this is a special episode.” Peter leans over at the camera, making him look like he’s upside down.

He pans the camera to you and Tony. Your father looked slightly bewildered and you were enjoying the spotlight.

“Thank you so much for joining us, Mr. Stark.” Peter settles down in front of the two of you. “First off, Y/N—how does it feel to be the daughter of Iron Man? Is it all..uh, glitz and glamour?”

You laugh, glancing at your dad. “It has its pros and cons. I still wanna sue that reporter for calling me a bitch.” Peter laughs at your words and focuses the camera on you as you go on and on about trying out the latest tech before it even reaches the world.

Tony raises an eyebrow at Peter and then looks back at you while you ramble about being a Stark.

“That’s a bit odd,” He places a hand on his chin, probably showing off his goatee. “My daughter likes to do solo projects, so it’s odd seeing you two of all people working together for this..video diary but if you’re out of trouble and it keeps Y/N happy, who am I to complain, right?”

You smirk, “At least Dad’s on board.”

Peter smiles, moving on to the next question. “Y/N, what’s one thing people would be surprised to know about Mr. Stark as a dad?”

You think for a moment, then grin. “He’s actually a big softie. He pretends to be all tough and serious, but he’s the first to offer a hug when you need one. And he makes the best pancakes.”

Tony chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re ruining my tough guy image, kid.”

Peter chuckles but doesn’t remove the camera’s focus from you. “And Mr. Stark, what’s one piece of advice you’d give to Y/N as she navigates her way through life?”

Tony’s expression turns sincere, his tone softening. “Always be true to yourself, buttercup. It’s easy to get caught up in what people expect of you, but at the end of the day, it’s your own integrity and heart that matter the most. And remember, you’re stronger than you think.”

You smile, touched by your dad’s words. “Thanks, Dad.”

Peter glances at his notepad, then back at the two of you. “Alright, final question. Y/N, what’s next for you? Any exciting projects or plans?”

Tony raises an eyebrow, he definitely caught on Peter’s not-so-secret intentions by now. “Well, I’ve got a few ideas in the works,” you say, smiling at the camera. “But you’ll have to stay tuned to find out. Can’t give away all my secrets now, can I?”

Tony leans back. “You know, Peter, you seem very interested in Buttercup’s plans. Any particular reason for that?”

Peter stammers slightly, his cheeks turning a bit red. “Oh, I just think she has some really cool ideas, Mr. Stark.“

You laugh, leaning towards the camera. “And you can bet we’ll be documenting every step of the way in our video diary.”

Peter grins, wrapping up. “Well, that’s it for today’s episode. Big thanks to Tony Stark for joining us. Until next time, keep watching for more adventures.”

As the recording ends, Tony shakes his head, smiling at the two of you. “You know, this might actually be a good thing. Just don’t let it go to your heads.”

You leave the room and the first thing Tony does is head over to Peter. “I’m not the kind of father to tell boys to stay away from their skanky little daughters but..don’t lay your..spider hands, spider legs, eight legs, whatever spiders have on my daughter.”

-

Peter sits on the edge of his bed in his hotel room, bouncing slightly with excitement despite the cuts and bruises covering his face. The adrenaline from the fight still runs through his veins. He can't help but giggle as he replays the battle in his mind.

There's a knock on the door, and before he can respond, you step inside. “Peter? You in here?”

“Y/N! You won’t believe what just happened, I met Captain America and I took his shield and I was like..” Peter puts on a deep voice as he runs his mouth even faster, “Hey, what’s up, everybody? I’m Spiderman from Queens and—”

“Okay, okay, you’re talking too fast.” You stop him but you can’t help but laugh at how enthusiastic he is about everything. “You probably looked impressive out there, Spider-boy, but are you okay? I mean-”

Peter’s grin widens and he interrupts, “I’m more than okay! IT WAS INSANE! I was out there with Iron Man, Black Widow, Captain America, Hawkeye and a bunch of new guys and I..” He stops when he sees how genuinely worried you are. “But yeah, I’m fine..really. Just a scratch.”

You can’t help but smile. “Alright, let’s see those ‘few bruises’ then,” you say, sitting down on the bed and patting the spot next to you.

This was the moment where you realized you were falling in love with him.

Peter sits beside you, still bubbling with excitement. “Okay, so there was this one moment where I webbed Cap’s shield and—”

“Wait, you webbed Captain America’s shield?”your eyes were wide. “Yeah!” His face lit up. “And then he’s like, ‘You got heart, kid,’ and I’m thinking, ‘Did Captain America just compliment me?’”

You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s incredible, Peter. But seriously, are you sure you’re okay?”

Peter nods, his expression softening a bit. “Sore, but good. It was just... so surreal. I’ve never been in anything like that before.”

You reach out and gently touch one of the bruises on his cheek. “I’m glad you’re okay. You did great today, Peter. Just don’t forget to take care of yourself too.”

“I will, I PROMISE.” He gives you a little pinky promise, both of you linking your small fingers together. His excitement gave way to a more relaxed, contented smile.

As Peter finished talking about everything that happened at the airport in detail, you lean in and press a gentle kiss on his roughed-up cheek. “Goodnight, Pete.”

Peter’s eyes widened in surprise, nearly all of his blood rushing to his face. “Aww, thanks.” A blush creeped up his face.

As you stand to leave, Peter's gaze shifts to the table where the camera is.

His cheeks flush even deeper as he realizes the camera caught your goodnight kiss. He quickly reaches over to turn it off, Peter can't help but smile as he replays the moment over in his mind until he drifts off into sleep.

This was also the moment he realized he was falling in love with you too.

-

The two of you sat side by side on Peter’s bed, watching the footage from his laptop.

Suddenly, the scene transitions to the part where you kissed Peter goodnight. Peter shifts next to you, scratching the back of his head. “Um, so..that was uh, unexpected!”

You nod as well, “Totally unexpected.”

Peter clears his throat, his eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but straight into your soul. “I mean, not that it wasn't nice! It was... really nice. But, um, I just didn't expect it.”

You chew on your lip, trying to find the right words. “Right, yeah. I mean, it's not like I planned it or anything. It just... happened.”

There's a long pause when the awkwardness decides to stay forever. Finally, Peter breaks the silence. "I... I have to tell you something. Ever since we started this video diary, I kinda..uh, liked you. Not like a ‘you’re cool’ like but yeah! I..like-like you. More than just a general..likeness.”

You were caught off guard. “Oh, wow, that’s um, even more unexpected.”

Peter winces, his cheek turning as red as his suit. “Yeah, I know, it’s kind of out of the blue..sorry. I didn’t wanna make things weird because I work for your dad of all people.”

“No, it’s not weird..uh.” You shake your head, trying to find the right words to say. “I don’t feel the same way but uh-“

Peter’s eyes widen, “Oh, that’s alright, I mean, I wasn’t forcing you to like me back but—”

“NO! NO! NO!” You sit up and look down at Peter, “I do feel the same way, I uh..like-like you too but it feels like I care a lot more than you do..like I like you a lot more than you like me. Shit like that..”

“Really?” He breathes out, “You do?”

You nod, fixing Peter’s messed-up hair. “Yeah, I do.”

Before either of you can say anything else, Peter gets up, places the laptop on the other side and leans in hesitantly, his lips mere inches from yours. He looks at you, and all you can do in the intensity of the moment is nod. Peter closes the gap and captures your lips in a soft kiss.

He grabs you by the waist and has you straddling him as you try to deepen the kiss. Peter, considering your father, probably thought you had some experience but you didn’t. You, on the other hand, were thankful for the playboy genes kicking in so this wouldn’t turn out horrible.

It's awkward, clumsy, and completely perfect in its imperfection, just like how any other first kiss two people have should be.

You both pull away, breathless and wide-eyed.

Suddenly, a loud knock on the door breaks the moment, causing you both to jump apart in surprise. Aunt May's voice calls out from the other side, oblivious to the lovey-dovey moment within.

“Peter, dinner's ready!”

You share a sheepish smile, Peter realizes he’s not alone in his embarrassment. “Guess we'll continue this later,” you say, your cheeks still flushed.

“She makes terrible meatloaf, I just wanted to tell you.” He says as you get off his lap.

You look at the laptop next to Peter and laugh at the sight of Peter blushing and gushing like a fool after you kissed him that night. “I think we turned your video diary into a little romance documentary instead.”

“At least I’ll have something to show people when they ask how we met.” Peter shrugs and closes the laptop.

“You still can’t show that to anyone else, man..” You groan as you stand up, grabbing Peter’s hand to help him up.