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httpsserene · 1 year ago

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𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝘂𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝟰: 𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗲𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗿𝗱𝗼 / 𝗺𝗮𝘅 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 | 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗺𝘂𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you can't remember the last time you've gotten to spend more than three days at a time with both of your boyfriends. you understand how demanding their job is but, you just can't remember the last time they really exhausted you...pleasurably. and then winter break comes around , and they have all the time they need to make you lose your mind. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. overstimulation. light dom/sub. quickies. cunnilingus. vaginal fingering. vaginal sex. unsafe sex. safewords. creampie. come eating. squirting. hand job. masturbation. dacryphilia. mention of taking explicit photos. praise kink. aftercare. set after the 2023 season. no beta we die like carlos’ fuel system. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 6.5k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: daniel ricciardo/max verstappen x black!fem!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: take me away • daniel caesar

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: set post 2023 season. mm, i luv me some danny caesar–i got to see him live this year 😛 i was originally gonna pick a classic country song in true american fashion to show some patriotism for the austin gp—as a black woman, i can attest that we love our country bangers—but take me away just fit perfectly. and daniel is definitely taking yall somewhere this upload—max and reader are just along for the ride 💀. i tried to write sub!max, i think it came across well, and ahead of time i sincerely apologize to the maxiel truthers…i think i may have slayed. i will not be paying for your therapy < 3 🙂 (and if you think i changed the summary, stfu no i didn’t 😌) enjoy y'all !!!!

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cross-posted on my ao3, htppsss

to see what kinktober uploads have already been completed or to see what's coming next check my f1 kinktober masterlist ! for all of my works see my general masterlist!

this past racing season was long; daniel knows that well; he went from being the third driver at red bull, to having a seat at alphatauri, to breaking his wrist–and still managed to recover to drive in the last five races. max can also account for how lengthy this season was; he dominated every race illustrated by his 10 consecutive wins, won his team the constructor’s championship 16 races in, won his third world driver’s championship the following week through a sprint race, and still had to stick around for five more races. but, daniel and max both know who has the best firsthand account of how prolonged and draining the formula one 2023 season was.

you.

daniel knows that you’re they’re biggest supporter; you’re a sweetheart. and while you haven’t vocalized your displeasure for the twenty-three races this year–he can feel your dejection. at the start of the season, everything was seen through rose-colored glasses; max was winning, the three of you were having champagne-drenched celebrations in hotel rooms–so filthy the poor staff probably had to incinerate the sheets. you were satisfied; and daniel was with you whenever red bull didn’t want to parade him around at a grand prix. but as the months progressed and as daniel got a seat, the demanding nature of formula one was observable. the longer season had stolen them from you–they were flying from country to country, the gaps between races only long enough to only have them home for two or three days at a time, before they had to fly out and adjust to a new time zone. leaving your two boyfriends unable to make a mess of you as often as you all crave in doing so. phone sex is hot–but it can lose its luster over almost nine months. they’ve been neglecting you–even though every time either one of them suggests that notion, you disagree vehemently– but, it’s the truth.

they pride themselves on the fact that they used to make you beg for them to stop drawing orgasms out of you...but recently your sex life has consisted of dry-humping like horny teenagers, frantic pussy-eating and cock-sucking, and quickies in the shower. so, max and daniel formulated a plan.

after abu-dhabi, the three of you returned home to max’s monaco flat and fell into bed. you’re comfortably laying completely on top of daniel, front to front, and your head is tucked under his chin, turned to the side to face max, who’s settled on his side facing the two of you, arm draped over your back, with his hand squeezing at your waist randomly as he talks to daniel. you’re fighting sleep and losing; eyelids fluttering closed every now and then against your will, breath slowing as you edge closer and closer to sleep. you're floating on the brink of unconsciousness until you're dragged away at the soft sounds of daniel and max rousing you.

“there ya’ go, honey,” murmurs daniel, his voice rumbling in his chest underneath you, “we got somethin’ to ask you, before we let ya sleep, sweet girl.”

max’s hand shifts to rub at the length of your back, and you clear the sleepy haze from your mind enough to nod your head and hum softly in question, “m’kay.”

daniel gently pulls your head from his neck with his tattooed hand on your nape, making sure your pretty eyes, foggy with sleep, make eye contact, “how do ya’ feel about spending december in australia, hmm? a sunny christmas–on the ricciardo ranch; you, me, max and our families–ain’t that perfect, honey?”

max smiles softly at your pout–you’re never one to appreciate having your sleep interrupted–before adding on to daniel’s question, “jimmy and sassy can stay with the sitter; i already spoke to her a few days ago. she’d be thrilled to have them, so you don’t have to worry about where’d they stay. i don’t think i can get pet passports in three days nor do i want to see how two bengal cats act on a private jet for twenty hours.”

a few seconds pass, max and daniel searching your face for any hint to a possible answer. you blink a few times, before you murmur faintly, “‘m okay with it…can i go to sleep now?”

max laughs tenderly, guiding your head back into daniel’s neck before he scoots closer and rests his own head on the australian’s shoulder, “yeah, mijn schatje. sleep well.”

daniel wraps the arm pinned under max around him, pulling him closer to drop a kiss on his forehead. his other hand falls on your back over the dutchman’s, caressing it softly. he holds the two of you as tight as he possibly can, the big grin on his face only seen by the ceiling. he has his whole world in his arms right now, but come christmas time, his whole universe–his family–will be under the same roof back home in australia.

the next three days are filled with an absurd amount of packing. max and daniel have five suitcases between the two of them—you have five for yourself; it doesn’t hurt to be prepared. the night before your flight, they watch you pace around the bedroom making sure there’s nothing important you’re forgetting. jimmy and sassy had been dropped off at the sitter’s, and max and daniel had already moved all the luggage to the entryway for the early flight. the two drivers had stopped trying to convince you to join them in the bed and cuddled together, knowing it’s best to let you work out your anxieties now so you don’t overthink on the flight.

as you start combing through the closet again, max whispers to daniel, “we could fuck the nerves out her right now, danny.”

daniel smacks max’s hip, smirking when he whines quietly, “no, maxy. she has to sit for an almost twenty hour flight, we can’t make that any more difficult for her.” the dutchman huffs, unhappy with the answer even though he knows it's the logical course of action.

dan continues, “remember: as soon as we get to the ranch and settle in—we'll be alone for a week before my parents come ‘n join us. we’ll have plenty of time to take her apart and put her back together.”

daniel was wrong. after y’all landed in perth, and made the drive out to the countryside—it was apparent that the three of you weren’t the only ones at the ranch. his parents had come early to make sure the ranch was prepped and fully stocked for your vacation, and prepared a home cooked dinner to welcome you in. dan can’t help his big smile from becoming a permanent fixture on his face as he watches his mom and dad fawn over you and max. grace pulls you into the house, instructing the men to bring the luggage inside while she gets to fixing you a plate heaping with barbecue. joe affectionately calls max ‘son’ with a tight hug, congratulating him on his third championship before they all make their way into the house.

the original plan is put on the back burner as daniel watches you and max bloom under the loving attention from his parents. the days passed quickly, all of them spent horsing around the farm; horseback riding, dirt biking, atv riding, making a trip out to the beach, eating good food, and sleeping well. dan sees max’s pale skin pinkening and your melanated complexion glowing with warmth from the caress of the australian sun. your afternoon naps are taken underneath the warm rays, stretching out in any slice of sun you can catch, bathing in it like a cat. max and dan do as many things as they can shirtless attempting to get their tan in as quick as possible—dan tans gracefully, max, on the other hand, burns like a lobster first before his tan becomes apparent.

they fucked you on the second day after your arrival, but not exactly how they were hoping too. it’s still a relatively short affair—for their standards, at least. while it quieted the need within you, it didn’t completely satisfy the urge for any of you. daniel had to coax you into biting a pillow to muffle your squeals, and have max nearly choke on his tattooed fingers to quiet his whining—dan himself clenched his jaw so tightly to prevent his own moans from escaping that he’s surprised he didn’t crack a tooth. he loves his parents, but he’s genuinely going to snap if he doesn’t get to ruin you and max without worrying if they could hear how he makes you and max beg for him.

on the fifth day, you wear your first sundress to lunch and max pulls daniel in the kitchen to muffle a scream into his chest.

“dan, baby—i love your parents,” max starts, his eye twitching, “you know i do! but, i can’t go another day without hearing her scream for me—for us.”

they’re only men. very desperate men. and you had the nerve to parade yourself in this flowy, yellow, strapless sundress at a meal they have to suffer through. they can’t even tear it off of you after, because dan’s parents have a chance of overhearing. but, what forces the australian to kindly kick his parents out of the house, is how you fail to stop yourself from drooling over them playing around in the pool—struggling to continue speaking with his mom as you sit on the pool’s ledge.

before dinner, dan showers by himself first, changing into fresh clothes. he then ushers you and max into the shower, ‘to rinse off the chlorine and sweat from the day,’ he says. but, he could care less about that. as soon as he hears the shower start, he practically sprints to the kitchen to see his mom and dad put the finishing touches on the burgers they fixed up.

daniel skids to a stop in the doorway, leaning against it in faux-relaxedness, and says, “howdy.” it’s silent for a minute; his dad stares at him blankly, and his mom eventually breaks and speaks plainly, “what is it, danny?”

daniel gasps in mock-disbelief, “why d’ya always think i want something from you? i can’t just be greeting my wonderful, loving, and understanding parents?”

grace stares at him, not fooled, “are you just saying ‘hi’?”

daniel stutters aimlessly looking to his dad for help, but joe just shrugs at him in a ‘you did this to yourself, son’ manner.

“maybe! well, no, actually…” daniel sulks, slinking into the kitchen, and resting against the counter next to his mom.

his mom hums knowingly, and gestures at him to start speaking.

“uh, so, you know i love having y’all around, right, and uh, it’s nice y’know—i mean, i don’t see ya’ as often as i want to, but uh—don’t get me wrong, you’re my parents, but uhm—“

joe sighs, “daniel, cut to the chase, please.”

daniel groans, before he leans his head back to look at the ceiling, “fine. look—we just expected to at least have one week to ourselves when we got here. not that y’all being here to surprise us is bad! you know that. but, uhm…we just made plans, i guess. a-and we kind of can’t do it, because, well…”

grace washes her hands as daniel continues to ramble through an unnecessary apologetic explanation. she turns the water off, drying her hands on a towel, and turns to her husband, pointing at daniel while rolling her eyes teasingly, before she cuts her son off, “daniel, we can leave tonight.”

daniel stops, head dropping to look at his mom in shock, “what?”

“we can leave tonight, if that’s what you’re trying to ask. your father and i don’t mind,” grace smiles gently, “we weren’t supposed to stay for this long anyways, we were just trying to get the ranch prepared for y’all, and you know how enamored we are with your girl and boy; we overstayed our welcome. we can go and come back a week before christmas with the rest of the family, danny.”

daniel perks up, “you guys don’t have to leave for that long, i don’t wanna kick you out—“

“daniel, please,” joe scoffs, walking over to clap daniel on the back, “you’re not kicking us out. we’ll be back on the seventeenth, alright. hopefully, that gives y’all enough time to work out your frustrations. we really don’t want to overhear or see anything—“

daniel pales, “okAY, thank you, yes—please don’t comeback until as late as y’all want, jesus christ. wait—did you hear the other night?! ohmygod…they’re going to kill me.”

joe and grace laugh, “no, we didn’t hear anything, danny. we just figured from how they were following you around in the morning—max couldn’t even look us in the eye, son.”

daniel groans, embarrassed, “don’t tell them anything about this okay? they’ll break up with me if they know i asked you to leave so i could have sex with them.”

his parents' laughter only gets louder, but they agree eventually after they indulge in teasing their son a little more.

dinner is pleasant; you and max remain unaware of the ricciardo’s intervention, enjoying the well-cooked meal and lighthearted conversation. when everyone’s stomach is full and the conversation quiets, grace and joe break the news that they unfortunately have to return to perth. you and max sadden, trying to convince daniel’s parents to stay a little longer—max’s eyes fail to hide his eagerness at their announcement, even though his voice manages to be completely sincere. daniel watches as his parents formulate a fake excuse about their departute before he gently reminds you two, “they’ll be back for christmas, babes. you’ll see them again.”

the two of you calm at daniel’s statement, and walk his parents out to the car, exchanging hugs and kisses before they drive off back to the city. daniel leads you two back into the house after you’ve watched his parents disappear down the road, and the shift in energy as soon as the door locks is missed by you.

you mindlessly amble back to the dining table, stacking the emptied plates and glasses and wandering into the kitchen to clean them. as soon as you turn the sink faucet on, a strong body pushes against your back, and presses you against the edge of the counter as their hand reaches around you to shut the water off. you turn around to tell-off whichever boyfriend did that, but before you can get any words out, you’re pulled into a filthy kiss.

your shocked gasp is muffled by max’s lips, and you half-heartedly attempt to pull away, but the dutchman chases your lips, not allowing you to stop. you give in with a sigh, allowing max to continue kissing you. he buries one hand in your hair, tilting your head to the side for a better angle, and licks at the seam of your lips. you squirm against him, not quite giving into the coaxing of his tongue, and max hums softly before he tugs at your bottom lip. you turn your head to the side, panting softly to suck in a few desperate breaths before max pulls you back and invades the opening of your lips. you squeal at the feeling of his tongue laving against yours, the lewd wet sounds of your mouths have your thighs pressing together. max brings his other arm to grasp around your waist, and pulls you against him, groaning into your mouth at the smallest amount of friction that movement provided. you feel lightheaded, your knees weakening, but max firmly holds you up, not letting you slip from his grasp. your hands come up to wrap around him, one feeling up his chest before resting around his neck, and the other hand digging into the meat of his back in search of stability. he hums at the ache of your nails and drops both of his hands to cup the back of your thighs right under your ass. he lifts you onto the counter, spreading your legs and shoving his body between them, while still managing to not break the kiss. at the show of strength you arch your back, whining highly, pushing your chest against his—he’s so strong. he eagerly starts tugging the sundress up your legs, making to expose your panties before he’s interrupted by a sudden heavy hand on the back of his neck.

max jerks away from you (you can finally catch your breath), his chest heaving, and his own whine fills the air at the weight of daniel’s hand.

“now, darlin’,” daniel addresses max with a smirk, “this wasn’t part of our plan, was it? you forget the script, maxy?”

max blushes a pretty pink, and murmurs, “no, daniel—sorry, danny.” dan hums at the apology, pressing a kiss to max’s warm cheek.

“w-what plan?” you timidly ask, still sitting on the counter, legs spread obscenely, dress skewed messily, and lips swelling from max’s ambition.

daniel chuckles, eyes shining at you hungrily, “mmm. how ‘bout we make our way to the bedroom and ‘ll show ya, sweetheart?”

you’re spread eagle in the middle of the bed, completely naked, with daniel fully dressed in between your legs sucking marks and pressing kisses on your thighs, max stripped down to his boxer-briefs on his side next to you, doing the same to your neck and chest. you’re squirming viciously just from the feeling of his beard scraping against your inner thighs, squeals ripping from your throat when he leaves a hickey or bites at the meat of your thigh. the australian’s pupils are blown wide, as he watches you try and muffle your cries behind your hand—if this is how you’re responding to the two of them thoroughly refreshing their claim on you, he’s thrilled to see how you’ll lose your mind as the night goes on. pulling his head away, daniel presses his thumb into one of the bruises he left and your back arches deeply–you choke on your squeal, thighs slamming shut around his hand.

“none of that now, sweetheart,” dan instructs firmly, “‘s just me, you, and max, honey. no need to quiet those sweet sounds of yours, alright?”

you nod wildly, stumbling over your agreement, “y-yeah, danny. ‘ll be- i’ll be loud for you guys.”

max moans at your words from where his lips were tugging at your nipple, pulling away to raise himself back to your lips, thirstily tasting your desperation from its source. dan allows max to bruise up your mouth, and leave his own beard burn around your lips, as he undresses himself down to his briefs.

“max…max, maxy, babe,” daniel softly calls a few times, failing to get the impatient man’s attention, “max, look at me.” the switch from dan’s soft tone to a deeper, base filled sound has max snapping away to look at daniel, panting roughly.

“be good f’me and give yourself a hand, darlin’,” dan commands, and max sighs lovingly at the endearment, “you can manage that right, maxy? while i get our sweet girl ready to take you, hm?”

max whimpers, “yes, danny,” and shifts to sit upright, pulling his underwear off and wrapping his large hand around himself. dan purrs, “good boy. her sweet cunt’s already drippin’ for us, maxy. won't take me long to stretch ‘er open for you.” you keen, humiliated at the way dan speaks about you like you’re not in the room with them. daniel tugs your legs open again, hiding his laughter in the plush meat of your thigh, but you can feel the smirk against your skin.

embarrassed, you whine hushedly, hands fisting into the sheets by your side, “mean.”

daniel hums uncaringly at your remark, “mean? don’t worry, honey–when i finish with you, you’ll think ‘m mean for a very different reason.” he doesn’t give you a chance to ponder his words, and a firm drag of his tongue across your cunt destroys any chance for your thought processes. this time around, your moans are clear, echoing around the room. the press of daniel’s tongue is unforgiving and working intently at your clit. your thighs clamp around his head, not allowing the australian to escape even though he can feel your hips bucking away, trying to escape the consistent stimulation on one of your most sensitive spots. when one of your hands flies down to tug at his curls, he relents his assault and switches to prodding his tongue against your opening. he moans depravedly against your entrance, the noise vibrating through you, causing your shriek to pierce the air. he eats you out like a man starved; savagely shoving his tongue deeper inside you, curling against your walls, nose bumping against your clit, mouth moving like he’s truly trying to eat you alive. he ignores the ache of his jaw, the tightness of his briefs, how his beard scratches your skin; and he smoothly slips a finger into you, beginning thoroughly stretch you out.

it’s absolutely obscene-sounding. daniel works his way up to three fingers, and any previous qualms he had about you being too quiet are resolved. your whines are constant at the insistent invasion of daniel’s curling digits, and based on the way your legs are trembling, he can tell you're nearing the precipice. what’s even more erotic, is the way your cries harmonize with max’s own grunts of pleasure; the dutchman’s hips buck into the frantic pace of his hands and danny wouldn’t be surprised if max comes before he even gets inside you. daniel sits back on his heels, his fingers still digging deeper inside you, forcefully pressing against your g-spot. with his left hand, daniel knocks max’s hand away, ignoring the responding yowl of displeasure, and fists max’s cock on his own, “doin’ a little too much, maxy. our desperate girl deserves to come first, anyways—lemme set the pace for you, darlin’.” max suffers under danny’s ministrations; the extreme shift down in tempo, the constant attention on the head of his cock, a finger pressing at his slit or the vein along his underside alternatingly. you, on the other hand, are being pushed closer and closer to your orgasm. daniel’s thumb joins, rubbing quick circles of your clit–and you scream out, pleasure overriding you. when your moans start to blend into breathy little ah-ah-ah’s, he slips his fingers free from the tight clasp of your cunt, and releases his hold on max’s cock.

you sob achingly, begging daniel to make you cum, dismayed cries of, “no! danny, why’d you stop, please, make me cum,” falling from your lips as max mewls next to you, his own hands trying to force danny’s back around him. daniel shushes you, and motions for max to come closer. max flies forward happily, his whines cutting off at daniel’s attention. he man-handles max into hovering over you in missionary, his cock resting against your fluttering cunt, waiting for permission. your cries quiet, and your heart races with anticipation for max to bury himself in you. danny’s left hand grips at max’s corresponding hip, and his right hand slips in the narrow space between you two, and he presses the flushed arousal in you. and the australian cannot stop running his mouth.

“that’s ‘t, baby–nice n’ easy for ya’–mmm–he’s splitting you open isn’t he–yeah, soak ‘im, babe, get him nice and wet–no, sweetheart, don’t run from it–yeahhh just like that, you take ‘t so well–”

your own orgasm suprises you, otherwise you would’ve at least made an attempt to tell the two men. max hasn’t even gotten halfway inside you and you’re cumming; back-arching, toes-curling, hands rushing forward to scratch down max’s back, eyes screwed shut, and walls clamping tightly around him. max is whining above you, flinching away from the hot grasp of your inner walls, but daniel won’t let him pull out.

“danny, danny! please–oh–i-i-i’m gonna–not gonna last–‘m gonna cum, if i stay inside her,” max admits, sobbing embarrasingly.

daniel laughs softly from behind max, and shifts so his front is pressed to the dutchman’s back. max shivers at the sound, the hair on the back of his neck rising. “aww, you can’t handle it, darling? don’t worry, i’ve changed my plans for you, anyways,” daniel smugly whispers into max’s ear. dan brings both of his hands to the younger’s waist, and forces him deeper inside of you, ignoring the way max cries sensitively and keeps pushing him forward until he bottoms out. you and max let out twin squeals from the white-hot flash of pleasure; you struggle to adjust to his size as quickly as daniel forced him in–you pulsate around him, it’s like you’re still trying to drag him further in and push him out at the same time. daniel presses a kiss to max’s shoulder blade and praises him, “see, maxy? i knew you could do it—such a good boy f’me.”

max’s eyes roll back, and he can’t fight it–he cums, loudly. his limbs weaken and his body collapses over yours, head falling into your neck, and his lewd moans vibrate through your raw skin. the younger’s body covers you completely, and your knees come up to cradle max’s hips, encouraging him to thrust through the aftershocks. daniel leans back, continuing to bathe the two of you with praise as he lets you guys shudder through the come down. a couple minutes pass before your legs relax and max’s moans die down to breathy hums, as both of your chests heave as you try to regulate your breathing.

“feelin’ good, my loves?” daniel questions tenderly.

you’re the first to respond, a sated smile sent the australians way, “so good, danny.” max sighs out a breathy “yeah,” muffled into your chest. daniel brightens, “alrighty–maxy, fuck her properly now, and make her cum again.” the dutchman grunts in disbelief, “what? no, i-i can’t, i just came–”

dan cuts max off, “you can’t or, you won’t?” max’s breath stutters at the sudden dominance in daniel’s tone, sitting up to turn his head to look at the older man incredulously. the smile on dan’s face is gone, his expression suddenly firm and unyielding–max can only drop his gaze away from daniel’s eyes, avoiding the piercing gaze.

“max, look at me,” the australian states unflinchingly, and the younger man’s eyes fly to meet his at the command.

“what’s your color, darlin’?”

with his tongue flicking out to wet his lips nervously, max mutely whispers, “green.” daniel’s piercing gaze drops to you and he repeats the question, “sweetheart, what’s your color?”

you squirm under his intense attention—max’s hips stuttering at the stimulation, and your bruised brown thighs squeeze at his waist until he stops—but the slight flare of pleasure that races up your spine decides your answer, “green, danny.”

a smirk spreads across daniel’s lips, “see, you can, maxy,” the younger blushes deeply at his teasing croon, “now, be a sweet prince for me, and fuck our sweetheart, hm?” and with a pinch to max’s hip, he sinks in you deeply with an oversensitive sigh, before he pulls out and sets a slow rhythm to allow you both a little more time to recover. the drag of his cock is coaxing soft shuddery breaths out of your lips, and sharp over-sensitive whines from max. his hands are trembling from where they’re grip flexes on your waist, veins popping with the strength of his grasp, sure to leave a mark on your darker skin. dan’s hands halt the gentle roll of his hips, before the man leads him at a quicker pace. max throws his head back onto daniel’s shoulder, overwhelmed at the feeling of your tight, soaking wet cunt, and cries out “too much—ngh—i-it’s too much!” but aside from all of his whines, he’s getting hard again. unlike max, the sensitivity from your orgasm had faded quickly—if anything, it’s doubling the amount of pleasure you’re feeling. desperate for more, you plant your feet on the bed and start rolling your hips to meet max halfway; moaning yearningly at the change in position.

the younger man frantically tries to force your hips back down, the friction added from you meeting his thrusts is too great. “heyheyhey—none of that, prince,” daniel quickly tugs max’s hands away from your waist, one hand firmly holding them against the younger’s chest, “remember, we made a promise to give her so many orgasms to make up for how mean we’ve been to her. you don’t want to break that promise; right, darling?” max tries to hide his face in dan’s shoulder, but it’s too late—he starts sobbing. daniel watches how the tears rain down max’s cheeks, and how his face crumples so prettily—is it weird that making his usually unbothered boyfriend cry, turns him on?

max sniffles, “n-no, danny. -ll do it, i-i wanna make her cum.” not wanting to disappoint you any further, he starts quickening his strokes on his own, eventually outpacing the rhythm daniel set for him. it dawns on max quickly; he’s not going to last, again. he makes the mistake of looking at the blissed out expression on your face, the knot in his tummy tightening as he watches how your mouth falls open in a moan, wet and inviting. he drops his eyes away, but they fall on where the two of you are connected; the sight causes him to choke on his breath. his own thrusts have forced his cum out of you, frothing at your entrance, smeared all over your labia and staining your inner thighs. if he could eat you out and fuck you at the same time—he’d be doing it. max urgently asks daniel, “d-danny, ‘m gonna cum—please, can i cum?” ignoring max, dan’s hand lets go of max’s, and falls to let his middle and ring finger rub vigorously at your clit. your body jackknifes, a scream leaving your lips at the sudden addition, you choke out a warning, “g’na cum! pleasepleaseplease—” and when daniel’s thumb sneaks down to press gently at where you're wrapped snugly around max, almost like he’s trying to slip in alongside his cock—white flashes behind your eyes and you’re cumming hard.

daniel hums, satisfied, “now, you can cum, maxy.” the younger had already started coming the second he started speaking. it’s erotic—how the two of yours’ orgasm feeds off of each other. every clench of your cunt has you squeezing tightly around max, causing him to thrust in you deeper, which in turn has you pulsating around him tightly, and the cycle continues. max rides out the two of your orgasms viciously this time around, his hips slamming into you, forcing himself as deep as possible wanting to empty every last dreg of his cum within you. you can only whimper brokenly, not making an effort to calm his grinds, wanting to savor anything you can get before he pulls out of you. with max’s last pump of his hips in you, daniel slowly guides him out of you. the two of you hiss, extremely over sensitive from the two times you’ve cum, so daniel tries to make the affair as smooth as he possibly can. with a squelching pop, max is freed from the tight grasp of your cunt, and dan leads him to lie down next to you on the bed.

you’re still floating, not a single thought in your head, a deep sense of satisfaction coating your mind, but you can vaguely hear daniel checking on max, making sure he didn’t push him too far. you hum quietly under your breath, almost like a purr, eyes shut blissfully as you allow yourself to relax in your afterglow. you faintly register daniel slipping in between your legs, his broad shoulders pressed against the underside of your thighs. you feel his left hand gently press at the raw skin of your thigh, and you fuzzily manage to move it over for him, thinking that he’s trying to clean you up.

daniel can only stare. the pink skin of your hole has turned to a deeper red, with how max bullied your cunt. his mouth falls open, entranced, at the sight of your bruised pussy winking at him, struggling to close, and he moans softly as the pulsing of your cunt starts pushing max’s cum out of you. the creamy, frothy, white fluid slowly sliding out of you and down your ass. his tongue wets his lips—he wants a taste. dan drops the towel he was holding in his right hand, and brings the now empty hand up to spread your lips with a ‘v’ of his fingers. his eyes flick up to your face, and once he sees that you're still floating, he takes a gentle pass over your entrance with two fingers, collecting yours and max’s combined release. he sucks the mess clean, and a groan rumbles through his chest. fuck—he needs more. daniel quickly finds himself breathing softly over your cunt for the second time tonight, and he can feel how your thighs already start shaking at the exhales of his breath against you. he laps his tongue once in a broad stripe over you, and moans depravedly—and then, he pretty much forced to eat you out; why let this go to waste.

the minute his tongue slips inside you, your thighs slam shut around his head, trying to halt his overeager movements. daniel doesn’t care, he’d happily suffocate in your cunt if it meant he got to eat max’s cum out of you for the last time. when he slips two of his fingers in to coax more of the cum max fucked deep in you out, your hand flies down and tugs at his curls. daniel pulls his mouth away, growling sharply at the pain from the grip of your hand, but he steadfastly dives back in—he’s going to swallow every last drop you’ll give him. “hngh—too much, –anny, can’t take it—my tummy feels weird—it hurts!” daniel’s hips starting grinding against the bed, and he’s made aware of how painfully hard he’s gotten throughout the night; he hasn’t cum once. daniel moans against your cunt, panting against you, “ya got one more f’me right, sweetheart? yeah, ya do—just let me taste you, yeah?” daniel tunes out your cries again, and brushes his nose against your clit as he laves his tongue over you picking up every drop of cum the two of you have spilled on your swollen cunt. his fingers start to curl upwards as he pulls them out, dragging wetness out from the depths of your walls, and you squeal, any pleads that you planned to say have been suddenly erased from your throat at the sudden pain-pleasure that bursts behind your eyes. your core tightens, and you seize against the bed cumming for the third time this night at daniel’s insistence. this is the most intense orgasm all night, and it feels never ending; all of your senses feel like they’re burning hot, nerves tingling from your scalp to your curled toes. what you’ve failed to recognize is that you're gushing all over daniel’s face. he practically gets waterboarded from where he was pressed against your cunt, but once he realizes that he’s made you squirt, he happily starts drinking down each spray of your fluid, uncaring of how his beard is drenched with your release, and how it puddles underneath your ass.

he swallows you down to the very last drop, plump lips massaging your labia sweetly. he backs off your pussy, switching to your thighs to collect any wetness he missed out on. when your hand tugs at his curls again, pulling him away when the beard burn gets too much, daniel rises to his knees over you. he tugs his cock out of his briefs, the tip flushed the deepest red he’s ever seen it, and it throbs hotly in his grasp. he uses the hand soaked with your squirt to roughly rub himself off, tattooed thigh spasming, and it takes less than ten pumps of his hand before he’s cumming. with every spray of his hot cum that lands against your swollen cunt, your hips jerk—even that feels too much.

when daniel finishes, he moans at the picture he painted on you—would you let him take a picture if he asked? but his fantasy is disrupted when you squirm up the bed, your hand falling to cup protectively over your cunt, thighs tightening around your hand, and you murmur repeatedly, “no more, no more.” max coos quietly from where he’s laying, still just as fucked out as you, but he tries to soothe your cries. he sweetly pulls you into his chest when tears slip out of your eyes, petting at you clumsily, not quite yet having regained complete control of his limbs. “did so good, schatje. daniel did just like he promised—i-if, if you let him clean you up, we can cuddle and go straight to bed, ok? be good, j-just a little longer.”

you sob messily into max’s embrace, but after a few minutes with max and daniel both reassuring you that they’ve finished pulling orgasms out of you, and comfortingly massaging the already setting soreness of your muscles—your cries die down to sniffles, and you slowly spread your legs open for danny. daniel stares at the mess he created this time around, but dismisses the urge to lick it off you; his only goal right now is to properly clean you up, and make sure you go to sleep feeling satisfied and worn-out. as gently as possible, he takes turns wiping both your thighs and cunt, and max’s thighs and cock, switching when either of you says it’s too much. it takes longer than it usually does, but it doesn’t upset daniel as long as it means the two of you are comfortable.

“okay, okay,” daniel soothes sweetly, “i’m done. you both did so good for me tonight.”

max blushes at the praise, and with a voice as airy as silk, you whisper, “you ‘ere good too, danny—made me feel r’lly good, thank you.” daniel smiles, his heart warming at your sweet words, “thank you, honey. you’re always so sweet to me.”

“now, let’s move this party to the bathroom so both of you can pee, and take a bath before we sleep, i’ll get some snacks for you to eat too,” daniel orders softly, “i took a lot from the two of you tonight—so let me make sure i put you back together, okay?

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weasleyreidstyles · 1 year ago

Text

Serendipity

chapter four

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. All characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): fainting, hospitals, talk of dark magic and curses

series masterlist; previous part; next part

Mattheo guided you to an empty carriage with his palm gently grazing the small of your back. If you were in your right state of mind, you'd shove his hand away. Probably.

But at that moment, he was the only person holding you upright. You had no idea what was wrong with you, what this overwhelming feeling was.

It's just the adrenaline, tesoro. It'll pass. Theo had barely spoken to you since school started, not including the few nights you'd been on patrol with him late at night or in Ancient Runes and Transfiguration. Everytime you interacted with Mattheo he seemed to become agitated, as though it wasn't his idea to have his best friend teach you control.

You sat in the far corner of the carriage silently as they deliberated what to do about the necklace that was floating between you all, and for some reason you felt an odd tingling, cold sensation wash over you as it came closer to you.

"Should we take it to Snape? Or straight to Dumbledore?" Zabini asked as he used his wand to rotate the antique, looking at it with distaste. Theo and Mattheo seemed to debate this as Enzo nodded in agreement immediately.

"No we take it to Madame Pomfrey." Pansy injects. "She's going to need to see what cursed Katie. So she knows how to heal her."

"She could've died." you say quietly into the warmth of your scarf. They all turn to stare at you. "The necklace is famously doused with a death curse. Over a few dozen muggles supposedly died instantly when they touched it with their bare hands. Had she not had her gloves on, she would have died."

They look stricken, as if this had not occurred to them at all. The air in the carriage went frigid, suddenly. And not because of the chill.

"All the more reason to get it to Dumbledore." Zabini insists, but you vehemently disagreed.

"No, Pans is right. Madame Pomfrey needs to see the necklace. I doubt she'll be able to treat Katie here, Hogwarts won't have the necessary resources for this sort of thing."

Zabini seemed to think on this and in the end you all agreed; when you reached the Hospital Wing where Katie Bell was writhing helplessly in a bed, you all but collapsed into Mattheo's awaiting arms.

~∞~

You've discovered that fainting is an odd sensation. One moment you felt fine, fine enough to function normally at least, then the next minute everything is a hazy void of nothing.

You wake up in a bed in the hospital wing, Hermione next to you, reading a muggle novel with a furrowed brow. She jolts up when she sees that you're conscious.

"You're awake. I'll get Madame Pomfrey, hold on." And she's off down the aisle of warded beds, back seconds later with the matron in tow.

Madame Pomfrey fusses over you for a moment, asking you all the generic questions, that you answer only with half-truths, before leaving you alone with Hermione once again when you answered sufficiently enough.

"How do you really feel?" your best friend asked, her face full of worry. "Harry and Ron wanted to be here, Ginny too, but they have Quidditch practice."

"I feel like I got hit over the head with a hammer." you say, your voice rough and hoarse. "What even happened? The last thing I remember is walking into the Hospital Wing."

"Nott said you passed out when you came to hand the necklace in. Riddle got you settled into bed and let Madame Pomfrey do her work. But she hasn't said what is implicitly wrong with you." she explained and you stared up at her incredulously.

"But I only fainted? It's not that serious, is it?" your anxiety spikes and, not intentionally, you blocked out Hermione's voice in order to get some answers.

I hear helped me into bed? I could've sworn you don't have a nice bone in your body, guess I was wrong.

You're awake. He sounds surprised...relieved.

Obviously or I wouldn't be communicating with you right now, would I?

Funny. His voice is filled with mirth at your sarcastic response. How do you feel, sweetheart?

Do you want the lie I told so that I could leave the Hospital Wing quicker, or the real answer?

I'd hope that all the time we've spent in each other's presence would warrant the truth, Meadow.

I feel like shit, Mattheo. I don't even know what caused it, I felt fine when we were in the carriage.

Did you? He doesn't believe you.

I mean– I think so, I– My arm doesn't hurt as much. Do you think that has something to do with it?

Maybe. Is Granger still with you?

Yes, why?

No reason.

Mattheo?

He doesn't give you a response.

Hermione is snapping her fingers in your face and calling your name as if she'd been doing it for a hot minute.

"Are you sure you're alright?" she asks, concern written all over your face.

"You know, I feel a little fatigued, I might try and sleep it off." you feel like the worst person in the world for lying to your best friend, but you want answers, and Mattheo seemed like the only person who would be brutally honest with you.

"Alright. I'll come back tomorrow with the others if you're still here after lessons are over." she smiles at you and guilt eats away at your chest.

"Thank you for staying with me, Mione." She squeezes your hand affectionately before she stands up and leaves you alone.

~∞~

Half an hour later it's not Mattheo who comes to visit like you secretly hoped for (but you were denying this to yourself vehemently). Instead Professor Dumbledore walks into the Wing with his usual grace and grandure.

"Good evening, Miss Meadows." he says cheerily as he stands before you bed. "May I sit?"

Bewildered, you nod your head silently.

"There's no need for the confusion," he says, clearly using Occlimency on you. "I see you have a good grasp on your mind. When did you learn to do this?"

"I like to learn new things." you say, brows furrowing at him as he gets comfortable in the plush seat beside your bed. He hums at your answer, rubbing his chin with the fingers of his good hand.

"I believe you experienced something rather....odd this afternoon." he began, his usually twinkling eyes holding an emotion that you could not place. "Can you describe it to me?"

"Um...I guess it started when we got closer to Katie and Leanne-" you start before cutting yourself off. "Actually, how is she? Katie? What happened to her?"

Dumbledore sighs as he answers.

"She was taken to St. Mungo's for treatment. They have far better equipped staff for dealing with dark curses. Poppy does not do that sort of healing."

"But she'll be okay?" you ask.

"She'll live, miraculously." he says before he focuses on you again. "Now back to you, Miss Meadow."

"Right. We were walking down the lanes, behind them and then I think they had stopped walking while they were arguing and it felt like an eery shift in the air. I don't know how else to describe it but then Katie touched the necklace and went up into the air. When she started screaming that's when Matt– Riddle– that's when Riddle and his friends turned up behind us. Enzo and Blaise went to find Hagrid and Ron, Theo and Riddle helped pull her down. I tried to help but when I touched her, my arm started to burn." you can fell the sting like a phantom now that you think about the pain.

"Interesting." he says as he pulls an old signet ring from his deep robe pocket, holding it out for you to take. "Can you tell me what you feel when you touch this, please?"

You do as he says and take the ring into your hands. Twisting it around your fingers, allowing your magic begins to swirl around it before it burns your fingers. You drop it in an instant. That same cold, tingling feeling you felt when Blaise rotated the necklace washed over you right afterward.

"It's cursed?" you asked, looking up at the Headmaster for confirmation, who is staring at you with knowing, inquisitive eyes.

"Something like that, yes." he says, his decaying hand twitches in response.

"Is that why your hand is like...that?" you ask, motioning to the appendage.

"Yes, rather nasty isn't it?" he says, tucking his hand away from your prying eyes. "I'm not sure what it is cursed by, but that is why I have asked Harry to befriend Professor Slughorn. I believe it has something to do with Lord Voldemort and Horis is the key to everything.

He ignores the way you instinctively flinch at the name. But thats when you notice that the ring that is still on your bed, holds the Riddle insignia. Mattheo's family crest.

"Sir, what's wrong with me?" you croak, as you turn the ring in your hands once again, letting your magic wash over it and dropping it into your lap when it zaps you with another stinging burn.

Professor Dumbledore removes the ring from your possession as he answers carefully.

"You're an incredibly smart witch, Miss Meadows." he states. "Professor Snape tells me of your incredible non-verbal abilities, and am I correct in assuming that you are also talented with wandless magic?"

You flush at this. "Yes sir."

"It is no surpise to me that your magic picks up on things that other witches and wizards may not." he says, tilting his head at you. "I believe you would make a good Unspeakable in the future, my dear. Or perhaps a curse breaker."

"What?" you ask, completely muddled by how cryptic he seemed to become. "Why do you say that? Shouldn't I be worried that I can somehow detect dark magic?"

"On the contrary...I believe it will be the most important skill you learn in this life."

With that note, he stands and with a simple goodbye leaves you lying alone in the bed with a thousand thoughts running through your head.

None of them bringing you any closer to a solid answer to the biggest questions you have:

Why the hell can you sense dark magic? Why did it cause your skin to burn? Why did it cause you to lose your grasp on consciousness?

~∞~

aaand the plot thickens...🤭🤭🤭

this was quite short but there will be more mattheo and meadow moments to come in the next one i promise xxx

comment to be added to the taglist!

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira

#mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #harry potter #albus dumbledore #serendipity series

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sailoryooons · 1 year ago

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hiiii :3 i’m a VERY silent reader (i’m terrified of my irls finding me on this god forsaken app) but i just love your writings so much so i had to participate in the agust event!!!!

childhood bffs yoongi x reader smut where they’re definitely probably too close, way closer than bffs should be anyways. reader goes to yoongi one night complaining bc no matter what she does, she just can’t cum! good thing yoongi’s actions speak louder than words <3

pls pls pls get totally creative w this, i love ur brain sm and i love seeing what you come up with!!!

❀ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

❀ Summary: Yoongi has always been your closest friend, but it’s always been a little closer than everyone else. He takes it one step further, offering to address a silly little problem for you.

❀ Word Count: 2,320

❀ Genre: Friends to something more, PWP

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Explicit language, some feelings of insecurity but like barely, talking about orgasm struggles, explicit sexual content including vaginal fingering, nipple stimulation, a hint of choking, a lot of sucking on neck/throat, nipple play, mostly reader getting finger blasted sdfnodsifgj, reader is completely naked and Yoongi is still clothed, mentions of oral (f. receiving), a little bit of cum eating

❀ Published: August 23, 2022

❀ A/N: Okay so this was supposed to be posted way earlier than 10:30 PM EST but I completely forgot I had this sitting and waiting to post (it was a long day) but HERE IT IS!!! I love the idea of Yoongi casually just being like yeah I’ll get you to come or whatever, let’s do it sdfjdfogijdfrgi thank you so much for being a reader and requesting something - silent or talkative reader, I'm just happy you're here and that you enjoy my writing! Thank you for being here.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Hali’s Happy Agust |

“You what?” You ask Yoongi, breath shaky. “Don’t play around like that, it’s not very funny.”

It’s rare that you can’t tell if Yoongi is making a joke or not. Though his humor is quiet like the night sky outside and soft like the sweater he’s draped in, you know Yoongi. Know him well enough to detect the subtle notes of a joke in his hushed words, know to listen amid the loud voices of your friends for a quiet jest, spoken softly just for you.

Now, though, you’re a little unsure.

Everyone has said for years that your friendship with Yoongi is too friendly. You vehemently disagree: affection between friends should be encouraged and treasured. Being able to platonically hold hands, share beds, and offer physical affection isn’t something reserved for lovers. You adamantly believe in this - always have.

But… it is different with Yoongi. You think about how you always hold Taehyung’s hand, how you let him curl into your side during movies, or how he nests in your bed when he grows too tired for parties. Taehyung is particularly affectionate, but it does feel different.

“Let me make you cum,” Yoongi repeats, as though he’s reflecting on the weather outside. He’s on his knees on the couch next to you, hands resting in his lap. “No one should have to go through their adult life without partners making them cum.”

You roll your eyes. “Plenty of people can’t cum for a number of reasons, Yoongi.”

“Okay, that’s fair. Let me try anyway.”

“Why do you care?”

He tilts his head. “Because you’re you. And I’m good at making people cum. It feels like an obvious answer.”

“We’re best friends.”

“My point exactly. Look, if I’ve made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry, I-”

You shake your head and wave him off. “No, I just. Didn’t expect the offer and it made me nervous.”

“Nervous how?”

Letting out a long exhale, you rest your head on the back of the couch and look up at the ceiling. Your warm mug of tea is abandoned and the drama on the TV plays on, silent in the background. You chew the inside of your cheek, wondering how to string your words together.

With anyone else, you’d feel embarrassed or nervous. With Yoongi, your anxiety is significantly less. Even if you speak the words on your mind, you’re sure it won’t change things. You’ve been through your fair share of oversharing, never shamed, never turned away.

It’s how you started this conversation about your sex life in the first place.

So you decide to be honest.

“Nervous like, I’m into it and I want to try it out, but I don’t want it to make our dynamic weird.”

“It’s not weird for me if it’s not weird for you. I’m sorry I offered so bluntly.”

Your lips twitch and you reach out, taking his hand in yours. Yoongi has beautiful hands. Long fingers with knobby knuckles, blunt nails and gentle fingertips, calloused palms. You’ve mapped the structure of his palm hundreds of times, know the shapes of the lines on them, and watched a palm reader chart the stars on them.

Yoongi’s hands are where you’re safest.

“Don’t apologize, you didn’t violate a boundary.” His mouth is soft when he smiles, his eyes are dark when he watches you. He’s so pretty. A soft thing with round cheeks, kind eyes, and gentle smiles. Quiet. Confident. “You really wanna try?”

Yoongi’s grin turns feral. “I do.”

“Alright.”

It starts with him leading you to your room, hand holding yours gently. It starts with a shy smile and hungry eyes, Yoongi watching you as you sit on the edge of your bed, unsure and giving him a questioning gaze. His hands are confident when he makes you move backward, shuffling until you’re in the middle of your bed on your back.

Yoongi joins you on the bed, kneeling next to you. He watches as he reaches out, brushing his fingertips over your thigh. His touch is featherlight, making you shiver. He doesn’t do anything but this at first, tracing the shape of your clothed hip, up the sides of your rips, under the curve of your breast.

Your breath catches, fixated on Yoongi as he outlines your curves. His eyes flicker to your face, drinking in your expression when he draws his fingers over the swell of your tits and over your nipple. The stimulation is barely there but it spikes. You inhale sharply and he smirks as he keeps going, brushing over your throat, and under your jaw, feeling your pulse.

“Pretty,” he murmurs. He takes you by the chin, thumb pulling at your bottom lip. “What do you like?”

It’s hard to answer. Yoongi’s hand leaves your mouth and trails back down to your neck. He wraps his fingers around your throat but doesn’t squeeze. It’s a barely-there ghost of a grip and he raises his eyebrow. You nod, unable to string together an answer. He squeezes gently before continuing his exploration downward again.

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth. This Yoongi is one you’ve never experienced. He’s quiet as always, but the silence is heavier. Pointed. He bites his bottom lip a little as he passes your stomach and dips between your legs, pressing against your clothed cunt.

“Yeah?” he asks when your hips twice.

You feel heat lick through you, pooling between your legs. Your fingers twist in the sheets in anticipation. Heat pulses from your pussy, panties getting damp and Yoongi’s has barely touched you. It’s the way he looks at you, the way he presses his thumb against your swelling clit.

“Yeah,” you breathe, voice watery. “I’m pretty into it.”

“I can tell,” he teases. He leans down, keeping one hand between your legs, gently applying pressure and circling his fingers as his lips search for yours. “You’re already wet, huh?”

Yoongi doesn’t let you answer. His lips capture yours and you sigh into his mouth, hands coming up automatically to wrap around his neck. It feels so natural. His hair is soft between your fingers and his mouth is warm, tasting faintly of the peppermint tea he drank earlier.

Kissing Yoongi is heady. He controls the kiss, keeping the pace slow as if he’s savoring you. Your thighs close around his hand as he presses through your shorts harder. When he introduces his tongue to your mouth, it takes your breath away.

Breaking the kiss, Yoongi mouths at your jaw. You arch into him, running your hands down his chest, feeling the warm skin beneath his sweater. One of your hands goes to his wrist pressed into the mattress by your head, holding onto him, the other goes to his hand between your legs, laying your fingers on his, pressing.

He hums, the buzz of his mouth against the underside of your jaw maddening. Together, you peel your shorts down your legs. Yoongi shuffles closer to you, your thigh pressed against his as he continues to kneel next to you, heat radiating from his body.

Yoongi traces the trim of your panties. You watch him, your mouth parted as you breathe unsteadily. He is solely focused on you. You can feel the slick sticking to the silk, watching as he drags a finger near your hip, his touch tantalizing.

Maybe this is what you were missing. Yoongi takes his time, dragging out the feeling of his hands on you. Works you up as he removes your shirt and bra next. You feel drunk on him already, nipples pebbling in the cold room. His nails scratch lightly up your stomach to your chest. He smirks as he traces slow, lazy circles around your nipples, eyes glancing up to watch your expression.

“Why?” you ask, hissing at the light stimulation. You want more.

“No one is in a rush,” he mutters. His voice is low, raspy. “Are you?”

When you shake your head, he smiles, pinching a nipple between two fingers. A curse drips from your mouth and your hips buck. You close your eyes, letting Yoongi tweak one nipple then the other, letting him guide you through. The stimulation feels good - otherworldly, even, when he bends down and flicks the tip of his tongue over one playfully.

“No,” you sigh. “Not in a rush.”

His teeth scrape your sensitive bud and your head rolls back, pushing into the mattress. “Good. Relax, let me take care of you.”

Tension melts out of your body. You didn’t realize you were so tense until he pointed it out. You let yourself sink into the feeling of Yoongi sucking gently on the peak of your right nipple while his thumb brushes back and forth over the other. The stimulation feels good, your head lolling to the side as you breath shakily.

Yoongi is slow. He takes his time running his tongue across your chest, air cooling is spit as he goes. You squeeze your thighs together, feeling your cunt throb for attention. He notices, nipping his way back up to your neck as he slides a hand down between your legs, pressing your panties into your sticky folds.

“Fuck,” you sigh. He nuzzles your neck, tongue swipe over the sensitive spot of your throat. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking wet.”

“Good.” His words are muffle as he sucks at your tender skin. You angle your head, giving him better access. It feels like the bed is spinning wildly, a compass lost in an electromagnetic field. “Tell me at any point if something doesn’t feel good or you want something else.”

“Okay.”

You open your eyes and smile. It’s so Yoongi to make sure he asks what you want. So Yoongi to remind you that he’s here for you. That as he slips his hand under the waistband of your underwear, he’s determined to provide for you. To get you off.

A moan slips out of your mouth when it comes into contact with your dripping cunt. He avoids touching your clit directly, fingers spreading your folds as he teases your hole experimentally. It feels good - whether it’s because it’s Yoongi or because you’re already worked up, it doesn’t matter.

Yoongi circles around your clit deftly a few times, making your hips wiggle. A tingle settles in your stomach, fingers twisting in the sheets.

When he retracts his hand, you open your eyes. He watches you steadily lifting his fingers to pop them between pink lips and oh. He hums around his fingers, making a show of rolling his tongue around them, tasting your juices. He slides them slowly out of his mouth, hypnotizing you.

“Mmm.” He grins and reaches to slide your underwear off. “Can’t wait to eat you out. First, I’m gonna make you come.”

Never in your friendship would you have imagined Yoongi to be like this. It would be a lie to say you’d never thought what it might be like to have him like this, his hands peeling your underwear off. The scrap of the silk on your legs is heady, every part of your skin extra sensitive.

Lips parts, eyes fixed, you watch him toss the underwear to the side. He shuffles so that one knee rests against his leg, the other spread flat on the mattress for him. There is a split second where you feel vulnerable, spread open for him to see how much of a mess you are at the barely stimulation. You start to close your leg but Yoongi shakes his head, hand brushing down your inner thigh.

Slowly, Yoongi drags a finger up your slit to your entrance, massaging lightly with his finger before sinking in slowly. You let out a long breath, your walls clenching around his finger. It doesn’t provide a lot of stretch, but it feels good, the pad of his pointer stroking your inner wall.

At first, Yoongi is slow. Familiarizing himself with your warm, wet heat. He picks up the pace then, stroking deeply, ensuring to push up against that soft spot inside of you. It drives you crazy. Crazier, still, when he leans down and attaches his mouth to yours, tongues tangling as he fingers you leisurely.

“Fuck,” Yoongi mutters against your mouth. “You’ve got a wet little cunt.”

“Not usually,” you admit. You card your fingers through his hair, pulling at the ends a little. Your entire body is radiating with heat, sweat slicking your skin. “Fuck, it feels good. Doesn’t usually.”

“No?” he sucks harshly at your jaw and your eyes flutter shut.

“No. Usually they jack hammer their fingers into my pussy.”

His laugh is hot on your skin. “Nah, just gotta find the spot.”

Yoongi has found the spot. Makes it ten times better when he adds another finger, giving you something more substantial to grip on. Your cunt grips his fingers like a vice, slick sounds filling the room. He adds his thumb to the mix, pressing down on your clit. You gasp his name, hips bucking against his hand, dripping into his palm.

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts. “Fuck yourself onto my hand the way you like.”

Together, you work yourself up to the edge. Yoongi doesn’t pause for a moment, doesn’t complain that his wrist is tired, doesn’t stop tonguing your sensitive spot on your neck until you’re clinging to him, coming around his fingers in a wet, messy squelch.

You shake as he thrusts his fingers a few more times, the slopping sound of his palms smacking your pussy intoxicating. You feel like liquid, blurry at the edges and warm.

“Holy shit,” you sigh. Yoongi pulls his fingers from your hole and you immediately squirm, hating the empty feeling. “That was just from your fingers?”

“Uh huh.” You watch as he licks his fingers again, grinning around them. Your stomach flips, cunt still leaking, begging for more. “Now watch what happens when I eat this pussy.”

#yoongi smut #suga smut #bts smut #min yoongi smut #yoongi fic #suga fic #min yoongi fic #bts fic #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #yoongix you #suga x you #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #minors dni #minors do not interact

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rubra-wav · 10 months ago

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[ Entry #9 ] Various Vox headcanons

A/N I've got a post coming up about what I think it'd be like to actually date him coming up, (alongside Snap part 2 ofc, I'm just taking my time w it to try keep things accurate) so here's some points which will lead into that next post + other misc stuff I've been thinking abt.

Cw: SFW above cut, NSFW below cut - 18+ MDNI, reference to manipulative behaviours

SFW

- While drunk, he's both very affectionate and cute but also gets really sad and clingy. If you stop paying attention to him for even a second while he's gonna start bawling like a giant baby. It's also the only time he's truly 100% honest with how he feels about you.

Basically; the mask falls right off, so he doesn't like to get drunk around people. He will deny all that's been said or done during this.

- He doesn't need to sleep but likes to - when he sleeps tho he doesn't really sleep in the traditional sense but instead goes into a preset 'sleep mode' for a specific set of time. He can also be rebooted remotely if you need him up before he's programmed to wake up again. (I discuss more abt this type stuff in entry #4)

- Follow up point: when he dreams while in sleep mode, his dreams play on his screen. He often dreams about becoming essentially king of hell and having people worship him like a god.

If you bring this up, he will be embarrassed as all fucking hell and will also deny it vehemently.

- He ends up getting water damage fairly often because he really loves swimming and aquatic environments ironically.

He's of course got ways of waterproofing himself properly, but usually he will do it badly or just not give a fuck about it and go swimming impulsively.

Will complain like a bitch after getting water damaged as well, holy shit. Blames everything but himself about it.

- Follow up: if you ever take this man to an aquarium on a date, he's going to be so fucking excited about everything he's seeing.

He will be trying to contain himself, but he may end up letting the mask of calmness slip at points and just start randomly talking a million miles an hour about whatever shark, fish, sea creature, etc. He's seeing. He loves sharks so much.

- Somewhat follow-up point: If you 1. don't tell him to shut up about shit when he starts getting excited and talking really fast and loudly AND 2. Actually listen?

He's gonna be so goddamn happy. Holy shit.

He's used to being told to shut up when he starts talking about ideas he has for a new VoxTek project, so if you give him feedback and your thoughts on it once he's done info dumping? He's gonna start internally screaming because he's so happy about it.

- Follow up follow-up: He doesn't take criticism well though. In fact, he's a baby. If you're in a relationship and you've gotten him out of his bs a bit with his ego being fragile as shit about everything, it'll be better but still pretty bad.

He needs reassurance that just because you disagree or think (y) would be a better alternative than what's his (x), that you still think it's a good idea, lmao.

- If you wear blue light glasses he can't hypnotise you, and he absolutely fucking hates it. In an argument or confronting him, you just put on bluelight glasses and cross your arms, and he's so annoyed about it.

You'd need to start wearing blue light glasses, because this asshole will be trying to hypnotise you into forgetting things if you see something of him that he deems 'undesirable' about himself for you to see.

- He's such a colossal attention whore that the second you are doing something thats not to do with him or talking to someone who isn't him, he's gonna be pissy asf about it.

Think glaring at you while pouting and loudly tapping his foot. He's such a little shit 💀

- He's so intensely touch starved it's not even funny. If you're doing anything his hands are gonna be on your hip, your back or your shoulders.

He desperately wants to be physically close to you but he also will never normally instigate cuddle sessions because he thinks it's embarrassing that he wants them so badly. If you instigate them, he will absolutely love it.

Just not in public, though. If you try to be super affectionate or maybe even affectionate with him at all publicly, he'll be pushing you away telling you to wait until later.

And will get mad if you try get a bit defensive about it with him.

NSFW

- He has barely any self-control and ends up getting unintentionally excited really easily - even in situations where he really shouldn't be. If you as his partner are cuddling him, sitting in his lap, touching his neck, or god forbid the ports, he's gonna get hard so quickly it's not even funny.

Him being touch starved is really a double-edged sword because he wants to be near you, but also he gets unintentionally way too physically excited about it and ends up embarrassed asf most of the time.

- Kinda follow up point: I feel as if he's extremely repressed sexually in general. He works extremely long hours to maintain his control over everything single day, and considering his tendency to start zapping things when he gets closer to finishing / overwhelmed, he'd likely not be taking any chances at all with that.

So when he gets physically near his partner alone (and also not even alone), his body just kinda goes 'time to make up for lost time'. 💀

- Most sensitive erogenous zones on him (outside of his dick obviously) are his neck and ports. I'm not sure if him having ports for nipples is canon or not, but if it still is, those are the more sensitive ones. The ones on the back of his head are still an absolute killer, though.

If you kiss his neck even softly, he'll be tensing up, and if you're kissing him or cuddling him and gently brush up against the ports on the back of his head, or your chest brushes against his and brings him nipple stimulation - he's gonna be getting a boner as quick as it gets.

- He doesn't really care too much about his partner's height, but I get the vibe that he'd have a size difference thing and would love a partner who's smaller than him (but not tiny still)

It would trip his ego so much to be able to physically look down on people in general, but with a partner? He'd be going mildly insane about it but in a different way.

Wear his clothes, and they're massive on you? He's gonna be turned on as absolute hell by that. Especially if it's one of his button ups and its neckline is plunging and giving him an eyeful of your chest.

He can easily pick you up and pull you against him in whatever way? Goes absolutely nuts about it.

I love it when I try to go,'this will only be short', then my brainrot takes hold, and my ideas just keep flowing. 💀

Masterlist

#hazbin hotel #vox #vox headcanons #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #vox smut #i got multiple things im doing for other stuff but this is what came out first lmao #art takes a lot longer for me to get through

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aguineapigcouldntdothis · 1 year ago

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goyim who say that "antizionism is not antisemitic", or believes all jews have to be vehemently antizionist, are absolutely antisemitic. I'm talking about the original, true definition of zionism (the jewish right to self determination) and not political/revisionist zionism used by the israeli government. i hate what the israeli government has turned zionism into and even though revisionist zionism is technically a real form of zionism i think it makes a joke out of the other branches bc it throws a lot of core ideals out of the window. zionism is about building a safe place for jews in eretz israel, not trying to conquer as much shit as possible.

if a goy thinks jews have to antizionist then that alienates a huge part of the community. most jews i know are zionists to varying degrees. we believe we have a right to our ancestral homeland, and that we are allowed to connect to the history we have in israel regardless of where we live. I may be wrong about most jews being zionists! I'm sephardic and i interact mostly with other sephardim and some mizrahim. However, most jews are ashkenazim and im not close enough with any of them to know their opinions on zionism or im not aware that they are ashkenazi.

goyim cannot be against a sizable chunk of the jewish population without being antisemitic. it sounds ridiculous to say "i support this group but only if they disagree with that core belief that many of them have!" in order to talk about jewish people from an outside perspective then goys need to learn what defines us.

there's also two main options when a goy believes jews must be antizionist. they either know the true definition of zionism or they have no fucking clue what it actually is (yet still think they do). in the first case, theyre clearly against an important belief of jewish ppl, which as I said before, is antisemitic. in the second one, they are speaking for the jewish community without learning our history, which is also antisemitic. you cannot make decisions for a community you are not part of ESPECIALLY if you dont know shit about them.

it is very, very important that goyim learn about the jews before saying shit about us. expecting us to be against our right to self determination is complete fuckery. believing that we all have to agree on a complex topic is laughable. debate and arguments are a crucial part of our lives, and goyim should not attempt to take that away from us. we can't fuckin agree on what to flavor our rice with sometimes, much less an issue as complex as zionism. even though a lot of jews are zionists we still have our own unique opinions that may differ greatly from other zionists. we also recognize that antizionist jews are valid and they tend to feel the same about us.

zionism is simply our right to self determination and our right to be connected to israel, whether its an emotional connection or we actually live there. i also firmly believe in everyone's right to self determination, including palestine. i don't think that jews are the only ones who deserve that right. all groups that have been displaced or are currently being displaced are allowed to connect to their homeland however they wish. it doesn't matter if the displacement was yesterday or a thousand years ago.

if you're jewish id love to hear your opinion on this. if you're a goy, please sit back and listen. it is not your place to decide how jews should interpret our own history.

#jumblr #jewish

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trashpandato · 1 year ago

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Art

Kara is a doodler.

Anytime she has a pen or pencil in her hand, she doodles. Initially, it started off as a way for Kara to find a credible explanation for when she was drawing Kryptonian symbols on the edges of her school work in high school.

“Kara likes to doodle,” Jeremiah explained to her teacher who had pointed it out during a parent-teacher meeting.

Kara had to ask Jeremiah what doodling meant, and then vehemently disagreed with him that that is what she was doing. But then Jeremiah reminded her, again, that she could never let anyone know that she wasn’t human and really shouldn’t be writing Kryptonian words on anything that could be seen in public.

From that moment on, Kara learned to stay away from words and began to try and capture her memories of Krypton as images. She still doddled, as Jeremiah called it, because all anyone not familiar with Kara’s background would see on the page were circles (not Krypton’s moons) or abstract shapes (not the skyline of buildings Kara remembered seeing from her bedroom window).

Over time, Kara’s doodles became less about Krypton and more about things she had seen on Earth. Cat Grant famously asked her about a scribble of a cat in a tree that showed up on the upper left edge of a printed press release Kara had handed to her. Kara stammered her way through an apology and explained that she had rescued a cat during her lunch break and the image must have stuck in her head somehow.

Most of the time, Kara’s doodles are about food, though.

She draws little pizzas, dumplings still in their steamer baskets, croissants that make a decorative edge around the notes from her latest interview. It’s mindless fun and keeps her hands entertained when she’s bored or needs some release valve for her extra energy.

“It’s almost Freudian with you” Alex joked once when she found a small ink pen drawing of a box of donuts on a few notes Kara made while listening to a briefing at the DEO.

“I told you not to schedule the briefing over lunch,” Kara shot back and then immediately launched herself into the skies in search of her favourite donuts in National City.

And then she meets Lena, and it doesn’t take long for Kara’s doodles to include little chess pieces, loops that remind her of the earrings Lena wore that day, sharp lines that look a lot like a certain building with a large L on its facade.

It’s years into their friendship when Lena finally asks her about it.

Kara is sitting at her kitchen island, lost in thought. She’s spent the last few days frantically trying to help organize Alex and Kelly’s wedding. She’s exhausted, and Lena has offered to make them some tea to help Kara relax when she turns around and asks.

“What’s that?”

Kara frowns but looks up at Lena then.

“What’s what?”

“You’re, I don’t know, scribbling something. Or drawing. I’m not sure because it almost didn’t look like you were even paying attention to what your hand was doing.”

“Oh,” Kara feels a little like Lena caught her with her hand in the cookie jar. “It’s nothing. Just a doodle.”

Kara wants to cover up the paper in front of her but Lena is already there, craning her neck to see the small image that has appeared on the edge of Kara’s to-do list for the wedding.

It’s a small portrait of Lena. Next to a larger doodled heart.

It’s not subtle, but then again, none of Kara’s doodles ever are. It’s just that usually no one else sees them. But when Lena does see this one, she freezes. For a brief moment, Kara wishes a portal would open up in her kitchen so she could disappear rather than have to explain. But then, Lena turns to face her, eyes wide but oh so full of hope and Kara knows this is it, the final step for them.

Years later, Sam finds the framed doodle in Lena’s and Kara’s apartment, hanging just to the side of several photos they’ve taken over the years of their friends and family. Sam turns to Kara and smirks.

“This is high art. You should feature it more prominently.”

Kara smacks Sam’s arm but can’t help the broad smile overtaking her features.

“I’m sure if I move the Kandinsky to hang this one up by the fireplace instead, Lena is going to divorce me.”

Sam laughs but then says: “Lena loves you so much, she would let you doodle on that Kandinsky.”

And Kara isn’t so sure about that. It’s an original, after all. But she is sure that Lena loves her, so she just nods and pulls Sam back into the living room to re-join their friends.

Kara does draw a small portrait of Lena on the side of her Yahtzee score sheet later, though.

#supercorp #kara x lena #supercorptober2023 #supercorptober

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moodymisty · 1 year ago

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Request; Guilliman's partner comforting him? He is so sad in 40k, and has so much on his plate. The Lord Regent needs cuddles when he has a break!

Author's Note: #LetRollarcoasterGhilliesuitRest. I'm having fun writing all these cute requests while I work on some Konrad stuff >:3

Relationships: Roboute Guilliman/Fem!Reader

Warnings: None apart from Cato Sicarius being an stick in the mud because that's just who he is ✨ he just born that way ✨

Word Count: 932

Guilliman's chambers remain unchanged from when he had last entered them, a massive room adorned with the symbols of his legion. It is all ornate, golden, tapestries hanging and filigree tracing the edges. It's all decorative, indulgent. But none of it is his; The room feels nothing but sterile, to him. There isn't a single remnant of his life, only his legacy.

"You look tired."

You sit small on his massive bed, Guilliman's gaze having turned to you upon hearing your voice. It's quiet in the massive room, nearly drowned out by the high ceiling.

He is tired. Incredibly so. Perhaps mentally more than physically. Though the sight of you serves to act like some sort of drug to give him a boost, abit only temporarily.

He works tirelessly, endlessly, with no goal or end in sight. The Imperium is no less rotten, galaxy no less plagued since he'd last looked. You serve to be a small candle for him, a hope for a future, but a candle can't light a cavern. But still, he hates to imagine his life without you now.

Though Chapter Master Marneus Calgar and the Commanders of the Legion had not taken well to it. To you. It seems their Primarch having wants and desires beyond his supposed godhood is upsetting. They seem to almost speak of it, of you, as if it's an illness- being in love. Wanting a life beyond war.

Gulliman still remembers Cato Sicarius' attempt to discipline you for referring to him as Roboute so casually, spitting venom at your supposed disrespect.

The holotable shined against blue painted armor and skin, sickly green blending with blue and gold. Guilliman had been expecting a moment alone with you, to voice his thoughts, though it has quickly seemed to have turned into a meeting of sorts. You moved to take your leave, as you know well you were unwelcome in the Ultramarine chapter's private dialogues. Guilliman doesn't disagree that you shouldn't overhear, but his chapter takes it much more seriously. Vehemently so.

You look up at him, holding your hands close to yourself.

"I'll be in the Librarium, Roboute-"

Cato Sicarius turned his gaze to you, searing even through his helmet. His stance across the holotable was firm and unmovable, one hand on the pommel of his chainsword. He is ever the epitome of Ultramarine valor.

"You will speak of Our Lord Guilliman with the proper respect-"

Guilliman turned to the Ultramarine, who's zealotry has been wearing on him like waves against a ragged shoreline. To him he can begrudgingly deal with it, but he will not let him trample you.

"She can refer to me however she wishes," Guilliman said, his armor making noise as he resisted balling his hands into fists. "Do not speak for me again."

The Primarch had shut the Astarte down within moments. But the burn still remains. Their overwhelming zeal has proven irritating, but in that moment it finally turned him to anger.

They treat him like a god, speak of him as such; You are the only one who still treats him like a man. Perhaps he might be far removed, but he is still human, underneath his overwhelming size and power. At least he feels he is. Sometimes he isn't quite sure anymore.

"Perhaps I am. Sleep is rare for us all." He finally responds to your comment, neither disagreeing or agreeing fully. Despite it, you look up at him with this soft, caring face- It reminds him of Euten. You gently pat the bed.

"Can you come here?"

The Primarch listens, coming closer. He gently sits on the bed to avoid jostling you, watching the way you curl your hand to gesture him closer. He furrows his brow.

"What do you have in mind?" Guilliman watches you intently, trying to read you and figure it all out. You just give him that same sweet look.

"Just come closer. Lay down." When he doesn't move, you sigh.

"Please?"

Then does the Primarch finally give in, laying back; Feeling your hands as you adjust until the back of his head lays across your thighs. Your hands brush through his hair, and Guilliman swears for a moment he could die right here and be satisfied. With such a simple gesture, you've healed him just a bit from the horrors gnawing at him.

His eyes are hooded, not quite closed as he looks off. He looks deep in thought, or tired. More than likely both.

"You have the time to sleep, if you want." If he returned here, it could only mean he finally had managed to obtain a moment to himself. He's looking away from you when he responds.

"I don't wish to weigh you down for so long." Your hand brushes across his cheek for a moment, brushing a chunk of short blonde hair behind his ear.

"I know you Roboute; You won't be asleep for that long."

The sentence makes him let out a dry laugh. You had him down to a science within months; His Legion barely knows him, and they worship him.

His hand reaches up to gently cup your face, and it swallows so much of it. You lean into his palm none the less. You put your hand on his own for a moment, before returning it to his head.

"Take a moment to yourself, Roboute. You've fought for everyone else for so long. The galaxy can spare you a minute."

He doesn't remember anything else, after. Just the soft look in your eyes and the feeling of your fingers against his skin.

#roboute guilliman x reader #primarch x reader #warhammer40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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aforestescape · 7 months ago

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konig - unplanned pregnancy

…just because i got my birth control removed and i’m in the mood for it

content includes: unexpected pregnancy, afab!reader, gn!reader, pervert!konig, fat!konig supremacy, mentions of co-erced pregnancy, descriptions of sex

you and konig at this point have spent a few months being friends with benefits. it was entirely your choice not to cross any boundaries past that. a decision that konig vehemently disagreed with but he kept it to himself. now wasn’t the time to pressure you into dating. he could enjoy your days hanging out or studying together. the texts in the middle of lecture to meet at your dorm for a quickie between classes.

no matter your conversations on relationships and you being steadfast in not wanting to date, konig knows that you’re his. maybe it’s a bit malicious, the joy that goes through him as you sit on his bed in tears. head in your hands as you try to speak past the need to sob at your predicament.

you should’ve known. should’ve been more careful. with the amount of time you two spent in each others beds or really any place you could manage privacy. betting on all the plan b’s you’d taken to keep your from getting pregnant even though you were aware it wasn’t safe to take so many frequently.

all the times you’d moan out around him. nails digging into the rolls on konigs back as he pounded into you. his own pathetic whines echoing in the space with yours. strings of english and german. asking, begging you to let him cum inside of you. to let him fill you up, how gorgeous you’d look swelling with his seed.

he loves the idea. thinking of you round and glowing with his baby. maybe even twins, they run in his family after all. wondering if they’d have your skin complexion or his pale freckled one. if their hair would grow in ginger like his as a baby only to change to a deep brown when he got older. if they’d have your love for reading or his for video games. if you’d look at them with as much joy as you did your nieces and nephews.

it was something he’d hoped he’d be able to convince you with time. you’d spent so many months at this point with each other. he’d let you cry in his chest when you were having a hard time. let you complain about classes to him and he’d spoil you with his money. eager to show you how well he could take care of you if you’d just give him a chance.

surely you’d realize soon enough he was the one person for you. and he’d thought about this outcome too. trapping you with him for life. if you wouldn’t date him, wouldn’t admit the feelings he was sure you had for him then he’d just take matters into his own hands. it’d be so easy to knock you up. you were so greedy when it came to his cum. quick to get on your knees and worship his thick cock. eager to lick the copious amounts of cum from your hand after giving him a handjob.

everytime he begged to cum inside of you, to mark you as his he could fill you tighten up around him. your perfect cunt milking his cock till he was overstimulated and whining into your neck.

he’d recall the times you’d ask him to cum for you, to fill you up whenever he had to take his hard and leaking cock into his own hand.

think about how good you always look rolling your hips as your soaking cunt rubbed against his fat stomach. using him as a toy while begging for his cum as if you weren’t denying yourself. a part of him angry to be wasting what’s yours. wasting his potent seed when he could be filling your perfect body up instead.

so konig could hardly hold back the joy he felt as you sobbed next to him on his bed. arm wrapped around you in comfort as you tried to speak through your tears. crying about being pregnant, how you both should’ve been more careful. you’re still in school, both still studying for the separate futures you wanted to build. and now those plans were taking a sharp turn with two little pink lines.

he’d rub your back as you cried into his chest, tears soaking his shirt. mind already filling with baby names and how he’d introduce you to family. they’d love you, he knew it. his family would easily accept you with his babies swelling inside of your belly. you’d grow to love and accept him now, you had no choice.

once again found a finished work in my drafts i forgot about whoops. have a few more so i’ll prob post something tomorrow, hope you enjoyed🙈🫶🏽

#konig cod #konig x reader #konig x gn!reader #pervert!konig #perv!konig #aforestescape

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violetasteracademic · 5 months ago

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Hi :)

I know that you believe the Elucien bond is real but it's Cauldron created so it's not a bond of love, rather a bond of matching Fae to create offspring that the Asteri can feed off. (I'm honestly torn because there is so much evidence suggesting this but there's also some evidence to suggest that the Elucien bond is similar to Rowan/Lyria's; all that to say, I constantly go back and forth 😂)

I'm curious what you make of Azriel being able to smell the Elucien bond. It seems odd to me but I don't have your repertoire of ACOTAR knowledge, so I'm interested if you've given it any thought!

Hellooooo my darling! So, I think both are actually true; I think the Cauldron bond is "real" in the sense that the Asteri used their power to actually create new bonds to serve them. I think they are a perversion and corruption of what the bonds were intended to be- but they aren't "fake" in the sense that with ToG Maeve used her power to create an illusion:

Whereas the disruption of Rowan's mating bond was a tug in a psychic thread, using Maeve's abilities to control and manipulate minds and reality, the Cauldron corruption was a base warping of the power at the heart of fate and all creation.

I know some people believe the Valg and Asteri are the same. I vehemently disagree with that. So my perception is that you are right- it is the same thing as what happened in ToG- but there are different powers at play going about it in a different way.

What I do think is interesting is the usage of threads being pulled and tied in different ways, and that language remains consistent. Maeve pulling at psychic threads, and then this "thread tied to a rib" that Elain and L/ucien are experiencing:

What is interesting is L/ucien experiences surprise at actually seeing the real thread between himself and Elain. Whether that's because he was still questioning the validity of the mating bond- wondering how a woman so unlike the woman he loved was thrown at him- or he is just surprised to see a physical bond, I'm not sure:

Now, the thread language also continues when discussing enchantments, spells, and glamours. What is so wild is this is all done in the same book, ACOWAR. Elain and L/ucien's bond which snapped immediately after Elain was poured out of the kettle, which is NOT how Nessian or Feysands bonds formed. Feysand and Nessian also experienced golden threads or unbreakable chains weaving their souls together after accepting their mate, but did not experience any sensations of threads tied to their ribs a moment before then.

And now to explore how I think this story will differ from ToG!

Let's take a look at what L/ucien is able to see with his eye:

Interesting. This is also the book we discover L/ucien is actually Helion Spell Cleavers son, who later describes his powers as such:

Shout out to @elainemg97 for catching that one!

SJM has been swinging a bat in our faces that reads Elain and L/ucien's Bond Is Abnormal.

L/ucien seeing the single thread and Elain experiencing it as something tied to her rib (or perhaps bindings around an individual, as Helion describes) is abnormal.

A woman feeling a bond without any sense of consent or interest in their mate is abnormal.

An immediate snap between two people who have never met has only occurred once before, with Rhysand's parents. Then in ACOSF, Elain and L/ucien are compared to Rhysand's parents again by repeatedly pointing out they willingly live apart and actively choose to stay away from each other, which is abnormal.

Elain and L/ucien:

Rhysand's mother and father:

So- I think where this differs from Rowan and Lyria is that even though there was still some difficulty (Rowan recalls how difficult it was to court Lyria. Again, abnormal) Maeve's power of mind control and psychic illusions would never have been able to be caught by anyone and Rowan overcame the challenges in their mating because in ToG's world, there is no discussion of mates being poorly matched or allowed to reject each other.

It seems to me that E/lucien's bond is being highly alluded to as something that can be physically noticed and hopefully broken by those like L/ucien's father and even L/ucien himself, in conjunction with items like Azriel's blade Truth-Teller that have the power to unmake things:

We are definitely headed in a direction leading up to all the things that can quite literally unravel the threads that the Asteri have forced.

SJM has given herself an incredible amount to work with here. I'll be home excited to see how it all plays out, and I wonder if she'll ever tell us exactly how far along she was when she started writing ACOWAR. Did the Asteri exist yet? Or was she working off Valg ideas like Maeve?

It's all pretty damn badass and interesting. But essentially the main difference I think it boils down to is this: the only way to break free from Maeve's tampering is the mental strength and ability to do so. In that sense, the forced bond wasn't real. The Asteri bonds are going to require a bit more work. In that sense, they are wrong, but they are real.

I think Azriel can smell it because he and Elain are true mates and it is being interfered with. I don't care whether or not they are actually mates, and it'd be cool even if they weren't. I just think that is where the story is headed. Feyre also got major headaches on the Faebane, the same thing Azriel was shot with, that cut off her bond from Rhys. Azriel's headaches start on page at the end of ACOWAR. So hopefully his nose will get some relief soon!

This is where I'm at right now! But what I love about SJM's writing is that even after all these years and rereads, there are still new things to discover. I know a lot of people are ragging on her right now after a highly criticized book release and a long wait, but damn if she didn't do soooo much that we are all still analyzing and assessing her work and dying to see what will happen next. I think that is pretty impressive, and I'm still just as excited as ever for Elriel's book and the incredible literal threads woven for them.

#elriel #pro elriel #elain and azriel

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arcanarix · 8 months ago

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@lupanaoflaminar || thanks for the suggestion! apologies for the delay. enjoy!

aang notices a change in the dynamic between zuko and katara.

how does he notice this shift?

appa detects that dramatic shift first--nudging him and pointing out how much closer and intimate they've gotten. from exchanging little whispers, maybe sweet nothings for all that aang knows, or stealing glances when they can. it must cease in aang's world, because he does see katara first and that means she's his turf, thank you very much.

appa disagrees.

never does he feel more betrayed, but if there's anyone's judgment aang trusts more than anyone's, it's appa's. so he knows when to wave that little white flag in the realm of his disastrous excuse for a love life. katara seems interested in zuko, as much as she vehemently denies it to his face.

appa knows better; now aang knows better.

it's another evening of watching those two fumble around each other like imbeciles. ok zuko's the imbecile, especially for weasling his way into her radar like this; katara's the smartest, prettiest, most powerful girl in the world in aang's eyes (though her interest in zuko has him reconsidering that judgment). appa adjusts his position where he is by aang and yawns, just before taking action.

zuko and katara choose to sit next to each other by the fire, but there's a healthy distance between them. something aang appreciates, but apparently appa has other plans. zuko relaxes his posture, tension releasing from his body and feeling at peace in katara's presence. aang continues to glower like a jealous partner. that's just like aang always feels around her. zuko does seem to want to make a move but is petrified about proceeding. firelord title aside, he's just like any other awkward teenager working through complicated emotions like feelings for a girl near and dear to him.

aang tries to ignore the jealousy pooling in his gut. really, he does. he's given the time to back COMPLETELY off. he knows katara doesn't belong to anyone, and she can be with whoever makes her happy. if zuko makes her happy, then that's that. appa has a great judge of character after all and zuko is still his dearest friend above all else.

while katara's attending to some strands of hair that have gone astray from the humidity, zuko admires her with the most soft affection glimmering in his amber eyes. it makes aang sick to his stomach. that's how AANG always looks at katara . . .

he catches zuko glancing at her every now and then, and almost tries to reach his hand out to her, but retracts at the last minute. he's probably groaning to himself, and appa, as fed up with these antics as he is, nudges zuko hard by the shoulder and now he's barely centimeters from smelling katara's freshly washed hair.

"s-sorry! sorry. don't know what got over appa and i uhhhh -- am i invading your personal space?"

katara glances up at him with a puzzled expression before shaking her head with a smile.

"not at all zuko." in fact to zuko's delight and aang's disapproval she scoots into him, practically in his lap. "is that better?"

"i, uh, yes! of course," zuko stammers. appa groans before returning to aang's side, pleased with his role of zuko's personal wingman.

"you know you're supposed to be on my side," aang whispers. "but i guess it's just not meant to be with us."

appa grunts in response, as if to affirm what aang said is true.

#atla #atla zutara #zutara #zuko x katara #atla zuko #atla katara #the gaang #gaang #appa #atla appa #katara #zutara drabble #atla drabble #erixtales

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scoobydoodean · 1 month ago

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wait hi op i made that bitchy post about deangirl real world consequences. popping in to clarify bc i have #autism and can’t stand miscommunication even if we both have vehemently diff spn opinions and will still incredibly disagree once i communicate. i meant real world consequences in terms of ‘deangirlism has consequences To The World’ in terms of general ability to recognise abusive dynamics irl and even that was tongue-in-cheek/i don’t actually think that. i especially do not think in a million years there are real world evil biblical consequences for Being A Deangirl💕the samgirls as catholics post was funny tho so props to u

I think samgirls like you should work on your own ability to recognize abusive dynamics in real life. Starting with a primer on DARVO. That's fair enough about not intending a spiritual angle, but I don't think it makes you look any better if I'm being honest (though I'm sure you don't care, since I certainly don't care what you or your friends think of me).

I'd appreciate it if you and your circle stopped talking shit about other bloggers you don't like by name. It's dogshit behavior. Some of your followers took your post as an invitation to come on my page and hate scroll for a while and send me hate mail. You publicly complained about several of my mutuals—including one person who I know your friends (if not you yourself) have piled on before specifically for pointing out canonical events that occur in Supernatural that don't support your agenda. What if reminding one of them about it caused them to start up their harassment again? Or was that what you wanted deep down? I don't happen to be bothered by the middle schoolers who follow you messaging me to try and hurt my feelings. But I don't appreciate you inciting harassment against my friends at all.

I find it funny that even now, you're on your page playing victim about being vagued about by two strangers you openly talked shit about by name out of the blue. Tbh it's easy to see why you and your equally catty friends identify with Sam. You all love to pretend you're the victim in every interaction you've ever had. When something you chose to do even vaguely bites you in the ass, you act like it was everyone else's fault but yours and take no responsibility, and even now, all you care about is clarifying that you aren't religious instead of apologizing for publicly complaining about a group of strangers to your toxic, harassment-prone followers because you can't figure out how to filter a goddamn url.

Please type "scoobydoodean" into your Tumblr word filter and be free of my allegedly inescapable posts forever—and don't ever talk shit about my friends ever again.

#this is sideblog fyi so I can absolutely see your posts #and why would you use someone's name ass out on main and assume /none/ of their followers would see it anyway #do you have any idea how many times i've been sent posts about me by anons completely unprompted?#including from what I've heard other samfans trying to stir up drama?

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asterdisaster06 · 1 year ago

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i love you ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?

ghost x reader [exes], slight soap x reader [mostly platonic], platonic 141 x reader

Pt 1. Pt 2. 3.

summary > Soap interactions with you, bringing you food after you skip dinner in favor of taking a nap, Price wants to see you - see pt 1 for overall fic summary

word count > 1.6k

warnings > should be none

a/n > future chapters should be longer, this just felt like a nice cutoff and I'm just starting to get the hang of fanfic writing. gotta love our boy Soap though. it might be a while for the next chapter though since i'm working on other works too

ao3

“Goddamn, who let a little birdie in here?” He laughs.

Soap. You had heard quite a bit about this particular Scotsman from your ex lover. You had an inkling that you two would’ve gotten along, even bringing it up to Simon once or twice about meeting him. He denied your request, sighing goodnaturedly about how you two apart are already the death of him - let alone together. You claimed that this was all the more reason to meet him, or at the very least, let him know of your existence. Simon had always paused around this point and you had never pushed it, and now you’re kind of glad. The last thing you needed was another person that was no longer a stranger around this base. You were supposed to be having a new start, and that would be very difficult if MacTavish knew of your existence beforehand.

However, you hadn’t expected to run into one of Simon’s teammates so soon into your arrival on base. The world seemed to have different plans though.

“You wouldn’t happen to know how to get to my room?” You ask politely, pulling out your information to show him.

“Aye, I do happen to know the way, follow me, Lass.”

You were honestly counting on him not knowing, but you’re realizing now that he’s the kind of person that would figure it out whether he knew initially or not. It seems like you’re stuck in the company of this man and his mohawk for a little while longer. It’s not like you particularly disliked him, in fact it was quite the opposite. It’s just the memories of your past are being dredged up by him, and his association with Simon wasn’t helping.

“So, what’s up with the mask,” He asks, drawing out the ‘a’ in the last word, coming off as teasing you.

You were attempting to come up with a half truth, because you truly hadn’t worn this mask minus on missions at your old base. It was simply this place that brought out that side of you. Or maybe it was a person rather than a place.

“I just find it comforting, y’know?” You decide on, finally. It wasn’t a lie, the mask truly did offer you comfort around here. It just probably isn’t for a reason that Soap would detect.

“I think you’d get along well with one of my masked comrades, maybe bond about hiding identities or somethin’” Soap chuckles.

You offer a slight smile in return, the anxiety that had recently left coming back in full force. You knew exactly who he was talking about, and you vehemently disagreed with what Soap had to say.

“You should join us for dinner after you get settled in, I could be your little tour guide,” Soap says, winking at you.

“I’ll have to think about it, stranger,” You offer back, smiling.

“Oh yeah! The name’s Soap. Soap MacTavish,” He laughs.

“You can call me Angel,” You say, blushing as you realize the implications.

He sends you a curious look with an eyebrow raise. “Oh? Let me at least take you out to dinner first, Bonnie.”

“Very funny, it’s my callsign. Like I assume yours is, unless your parents really hated you,” You joke, almost enjoying this banter with Soap.

“Oi, we don’t judge around here,” He laughs, referring to your silly callsigns.

“I suppose I’ll see you around, Soap?” You ask, ready to settle down in your own space. With your own silence to accompany you.

“Is that a yes to dinner?” He jokes, aware of the double meaning of his sentence.

“Oh knock it off, I’ll have to think about it,” You smile, wondering if this is how it could’ve been in another life. A life where you had actually gotten to meet Soap under different circumstances. You unlock your door, entering and turning back to see Soap still there.

“Don’t think too hard! I wouldn’t want you to worry that pretty little head of yours too much, Bonnie,” He teases, already deciding on a nickname for you it seems.

“We hardly know each other, and you have no clue what I look like,” You laugh, pushing him out of your doorframe, amused at his antics nonetheless.

“Oh, I’m sure you look slightly better than a troll under the bridge at least,” He says with a toothy grin. “You’re not ugly, are you?” He asks ironically.

“Quite the opposite,” You offer up with a crooked smile.

“That’s what I thought,” He says with a smile that rivals the Cheshire cat. “Now, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner?”

“You’re a big boy, I’m sure you’ll be fine alone,” You say, tiredly. It’s not like you wanted to cut your friendly banter with Soap short. On the other hand, you didn’t exactly feel like socializing. Not after your tiring day already.

“Alright, alright rookie. But I am bringing something around later to make sure you eat. If it wasn’t me it would be Price, so don’t think it’s any trouble,” He says, predicting your words before you could even voice them.

“Who are you calling a rookie, Sergeant?” You chirp out.

“Are you not one? Price just mentioned that we would be getting someone new, or maybe I was zoning out when he mentioned your details. Actually no, I definitely was. I think I was throwing crumpled up paper at Gaz - you’ll meet him later,” Soap explains, smiling at the end.

Gaz. Kyle “Gaz” Garrick. Simon had spoken less of him specifically but whatever he did have to say, it was only full of praise. That or another story of his unfortunate luck lending him time hanging from a rope out of a helicopter. That story had always made you laugh.

“I’m technically a Lieutenant,” You manage to say between laughter.

“Jesus Christ, another one? I wouldn’t have coined you for one,” Soap exclaimed.

“And why’s that?” You ask, curious but already knowing the answer. People have always underestimated you based on looks and size. Starting from your first days at the academy to when you first got your callsign to even after you were nicknamed the ‘Angel of Death.’ Other soldiers had only reinforced Simon’s words that you weren’t worthy of your position, let alone the opportunity to even try.

“Just the way our Lieutenant, or I guess I should start referring to him as ‘First Lieutenant’ now, responded to the details that I didn’t hear. He almost seemed to be. . . worried about having someone else to worry about. Looking at you now though, I can tell we’re going to have nothing to worry about,” He ends with a smile.

Huh, that was new. You didn’t expect that from Soap, but you suppose he’s just full of surprises. Fitting for the demolitionist that has a knack for gunpowder filled surprises. Nonetheless, you had luggage to unpack and sleep to catch up on. You eventually get Soap to leave you alone to your devices, putting on your playlist and unpacking about half of your shit before getting too tired to continue. Laying back on your freshly made bed, your eyes flutter closed and you fall into unconsciousness.

A knock at your door wakes you and you shake off your sleepiness - rubbing your eyes and stretching as you do. The blurriness of both your vision and mind makes you almost forget where you are. Only for a second though.

“Open up, Angel!” Soap yells through the door.

He really had no capabilities of being subtle, did he. You stumble a bit getting out of bed but find your footing and make your way to the wooden door, turning the knob and opening it. The brightness of the hallway makes you flinch slightly before your eyes adjust to the lighting.

“What do you want?” You ask the man who’s simply standing and staring at you.

“You- you don’t have your mask on-” He stammers, seemingly caught between staring and shielding his face out of politeness.

“I mean, I don’t sleep with it on, and you did kind of wake me up, MacTavish,” You sigh, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“Oh right! Here’s your food,” Soap smiles sheepishly, taking the tupperware out from behind his back. It has a silly little doodle of himself in cartoon form saying “Food for Angel, No touchy” which you found amusing enough to smile at.

“Thank you Soap, genuinely,” You offer up, taking his gift of food from his hands.

He smiles back at you, sending you a mock salute before heading off to presumably his room. Before he gets to the end of the hallway he suddenly stops and turns, yelling back at you that Price wants to see you in his office after you finish eating. He really waited until the last minute for that one, didn’t he? Despite the slight annoyance you held, it was overshadowed by the simple amusement you had watching the man. He might not have known you knew of his famous shenanigans before you even set eyes on him, but you would get there. You take a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of what the mess hall had to offer for today. It exceeded your expectations, but that could just be the fact that your old base had shit food.

You truly wondered what Price had to say to you, deciding that he was calling you down to fire you for the disrespect you had shown him and your apparent partner by leaving so suddenly. Obviously, it was not going to be that dramatic, but you still worried a tad bit. You were aware that you would likely be working alongside Simon, and some small masochistic part of you accepted this job despite it. Maybe in spite of it. You wanted to prove yourself to him, though you’re now realizing that he’ll eventually need to know your identity. Something you aren’t keen on sharing.

That part of you had been shed long ago, and now your new feathers have grown in.

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sporadicthingcollection · 2 years ago

Text

Point Counterpoint (Tech x F!Reader)

Summary: Despite the mutual attraction, Tech thinks a relationship at time isn't a good idea. You disagree. Vehemently.

Pairing: Tech x F!Reader

Rating: Mild.

Word Count: 3.1k.

Warnings: None!

---

But if I seem to act unkind

It's only me, it's not my mind

That is confusing things

---

Figuring out where you lived wasn’t difficult. You’ve mentioned that it’s a ten minute walk to Cid’s bar, and a fifteen minute walk to the hangar where they keep the Marauder. A third distance would have made it easier, but Tech has done more with less.

Though it would have been much easier if Omega wasn’t hovering over his shoulder.

“This seems... complicated,” she says slowly.

“Not particularly,” Tech replies. He points at the computer viewscreen. “The edge of this circle represents about a fifteen minutes walk, and this one--”

“No, I mean why do this when you could just message her? You have her comm information.”

Echo chimes in from his spot lounging on the bunk. “Because he’s scared to talk to girls.”

Tech shoots him a dry look. “There is no guarantee that she would reply in a timely manner, or that she would be willing to give the information freely. This is faster.”

Omega gives Echo an uneasy look, but he shrugs. She returns her attention to the screen. “Did she forget something?”

Tech shakes his head. “There is something I’d like to discuss with her in private.”

Echo chimes in again. “Make sure you bring flowers. I’ve heard roses are traditional for first dates.”

There’s a crash from outside the ship, and Wrecker comes barreling inside. “Tech’s goin’ on a date?!” he bellows.

Everyone flinches, with poor Omega covering her ears. But she recovers quickly. “He’s trying to figure out where she lives right now.”

Wrecker’s brow scrunches up. “Why doesn’t he just ask her?”

Tech sighs. “I am not going on a date,” he says. “Though, given that she is infatuated with me, it would be a reasonable assumption to make.”

You didn’t hide it very well. The way you’d stand a little closer to him, or play with your hair, or send him messages with hearts in them. You seem to be using them playfully, but given all of the other evidence, it’s the only logical conclusion.

Wrecker breaks into a wide grin. “Aw, lucky!” He gives Tech what is intended to be a friendly punch on the shoulder, but it nearly knocks him out of his chair.

“Don’t sound too excited, Tech,” Echo says. He sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the rack to sit.

“I am not,” Tech says. “Regretfully, I am going to talk her out of it.”

Wrecker’s voice doesn’t crack often, but it does now. “What?! Why?!”

Tech picks up the holopad on the console and passes it to him. “I have spent the last several days compiling a list of why we should not pursue a relationship. You may peruse it if you wish.”

Wrecker is more than capable of reading, but he stares at the pad like it’s written in Durese. His expression hardens and he shoves it back into Tech’s hands. “These are dumb. You’re dumb.”

“Demonstrably untrue,” he replies.

“Nah, Wrecker’s right this time,” Echo says. Tech looks to him, only to see him shake his head in disapproval. “A girl likes you, you go for it. Especially when you like her back.”

There is wisdom in his brother’s words, but how did he know he liked her back? Tech blinks at him. “And where did you hear that?”

“You act different around her,” Omega says. “You’re always standing really close to her, and your cheeks get kinda red, and you smile at things she says...” She shrugs. “It’s really obvious.”

He takes a steadying breath. “Regardless of my feelings, we are not compatible. It is as simple as that.” He stands up. “If you will excuse me, I’d like to see her before dark.”

Wrecker lets out a low grumble, not unlike that of an agitated tooka. “For someone so smart, you’re really stupid, y’know that?” He turns to Echo. “Two creds says this doesn’t go the way he thinks this will.”

“Bet,” he grunts. “She’s gonna kick him to the curb.”

Tech rolls his eyes, but says nothing. He has places to be.

Hunter almost bumps into him as he walks down the ramp, but he scoots to the side just in time. “Going to see your girlfriend?” he says with a smile.

“She is not my girlfriend,” he says flatly, “and I’m going to straighten that out now.”

---

You’re a very intelligent woman. You have an education and a career. You can usually keep up with his explanations and ask more questions. It’s one of the many things he likes about you.

Today, however, you seem to not understand a thing he’s saying. From the second you opened your door, you’ve been wide-eyed and baffled. Which is unusual, given that he’s not espousing any particularly complicated technical insights.

You stare at the holopad, eyes widening as you scan the text. They’re enormous and uncomprehending when you look up at him, blinking. You swallow, then take a deep breath.

“Tech,” you ask flatly, “what the fuck?”

That’s an unusually ignorant question coming from you. “Is it not obvious? It is a list of reasons you should pursue other men. I am not a suitable partner for you.”

You blink once. Your mouth opens, then closes. You look at the holopad and open your mouth again, only to close it again as you look back at him. “How long is this?”

“There are about thirty-five items, though some have multiple subsections. So about…” He counts in his head. “Forty-seven, in total.”

He waits for you to speak. You don’t. You just keep staring at him. You look remarkably like a fish, with your mouth opening and closing. You look between him and the holopad several times.

Unsure of what to do with his hands, he adjusts his goggles. “This is not to say that I do not wish to stay friends,” he says. “You are good company and I would like to--”

He’s about a head taller than you, but you have the element of surprise. You grab him by the collar of his breastplate and haul him into your apartment, throwing him onto your sofa. It’s quite plush and his landing is soft.

You slap the door panel to close it and then whirl around to storm towards him. “This isn’t fair,” you say. “You can’t just throw a list of reasons at me and leave.”

“I just did,” he states. He tries to stand up, but you sit him back down. “I don’t understand what you are upset about.”

With a huff, you toss the holopad at him. “At the very least, I deserve to have you tell me to my face why. And I should make an argument back.”

That’s fair. He glances at his chronometer. “I hope you have no plans for the evening.”

“Free as a purrgil,” you say, voice smooth. “So lay it on me.”

He likes that confident tone you take. It makes his insides squirm in a pleasant way. “Very well,” he says. He taps the pad. “Point one,” he begins. “I am a fugitive of the Empire.”

You scoff. “For a good reason. I’d desert too if I had people to protect.”

“Friendship is one thing, but the close contact necessitated by a romantic relationship would put you in constant danger.” He gives you a pointed look. “It is not an easy life.”

You ponder that a moment, tipping your head back and pursing your lips. “Well, yeah,” you finally say, “but I’ve known that from the jump. It’s not like you’re hiding it from me.”

That’s a good point. You’ve been nothing but gracious about his status -- helpful, even. You’ve gone so far as to warn him when inspections are to be conducted on the ship hangars.

You continue. “And in the interests of openness, I assure you I’m not hiding anything either. Except maybe my credit card number, but that’s nothing personal.”

A joke. Your mood has improved. A good sign. Perhaps you’ll be more receptive to the next point.

He adjusts his goggles. “Point two: you are far more attractive than I am.”

The right half of your smile disappears as your brows shoot up and your eyes widen, leaving you looking remarkably like an orbak in a pair of headlights. “Are you saying you wish I wasn’t pretty?”

“Nothing of the sort. You are fine the way you are. More than fine, if I may be honest. Which is what concerns me. Couples where one is perceived as more attractive than the other are subject to more scrutiny and are therefore more likely to separate.”

Your expression doesn’t change. You’re still baffled. “I’m flattered, but... what?”

For such an intelligent woman, you’re being unusually dense right now. It’s very frustrating. “Objectively speaking, you are very beautiful. Your face is symmetrical and your bust-waist-hip measurements are within ideal parameters -- based on just my visual estimates, of course.”

Somehow, your eyes get even wider. “...how long have you been looking at me?”

Too long, but he’ll keep that fact to himself. He ignores your interjection. “I, on the other hand, am a Human clone of decidedly average looks. Which brings me to my next point--”

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa!” You regain your wits and flap your hands so fast that your fingers appear to smear in the air. You stick your index finger at him. “What makes you think you’re unattractive?”

He almost scoffs, but he swallows it. “The data I’ve seen suggests I am not.”

You roll yours. “Don’t care. Explain yourself.”

He’s not a fan of prolonged self-depreciation, but if you insist. “Brown hair and eyes are, according to research I’ve read on the subject, the most common hair and eye colors among Humans. Hardly unique traits. Thus, average.”

“You’re taller than most guys I’ve met and in better shape. That rates you pretty high in my book,” you say. “And your goggles are neat.”

“While your appreciation of my eyewear is, well, appreciated, you are just one woman.” Speaking of which, they’re slightly crooked again. He adjusts them.

You suck in the slightest of breaths, and the corners of your lips curl. You always seem pleased when he touches his goggles.

You shake your head as if to clear it. “There’s more to attractiveness than looks, man.” You count on your fingers. “There’s personality, interests--”

“I’m aware of that as well. Which brings me to my third point: disparate levels of intelligence.”

You abandon your counting and your gaze snaps to his like a turret locking onto a target. “Excuse me?”

“I’m far more intelligent than you are.”

While it’s the truth, the look in your eyes makes him regret saying that. “Are you calling me dumb?”

He raises his hand. “I did not mean to offend.”

“Then what did you mean?!”

It’s suddenly very hot in here. “That was-- What I mean to say is--” He swallows thickly and takes a breath. “While you are by no means unintelligent, I am an enhanced clone. I am very knowledgeable and, in past experiences, my sharing of that knowledge has led to discomfort and irritation on the part of others.”

Your anger deflates. You put your hand on your breast, and your brows knit. “Have I ever been like that?” you ask quietly.

“Not often, but on occasion.”

You deflate even more. “I’m sorry,” you say in a small voice. “I didn’t mean to hurt you like that.”

A fuzzy warmth blooms in his head, pressing against the backs of his eyes. He’s not used to apologies, and yours seems genuine. “It’s fine,” he says, willing the feeling away.

“No, it’s not.” You vault over the arm of the sofa to sit next to him. Your gaze is soft. “I hurt your feelings and I apologize for that.”

The feeling doesn’t go away. It trickles down his throat and into his chest, even fuzzier and warmer. He coughs and turns back to the datapad.

“I think it’s really neat when you go off about stuff. Like, I didn’t know that thing about getting into hyperspace faster if you use a gas giant as a slingshot. I was telling everyone that for weeks.”

He’d completely forgotten he’d told you that. Though it’s not slingshotting. “Gravity assist,” he corrects.

Your smile returns and it’s like when he takes his armor off after a long day. “Gravity assist,” you repeat. “My bad. Point is that I like it when you talk about stuff. So scratch that from your list.”

His insides are fuzzy enough that he’s suddenly worried he swallowed a mouse without noticing. “...very well,” he says. He highlights the passage and deletes it from the list. “But that doesn’t affect my next point.”

You cross your arms. “Lay it on me.”

Your casual demeanor calms him somewhat. “Point four: clones have inconsistent fertility levels. Should you desire a child, conception may be difficult--”

A peal of laughter interrupts him. You’ve got your hand on your chest as your shoulders shake, your eyes scrunched up and your smile wide.

The warm sinks into his belly. He likes it when you laugh. But this is a serious matter. “What is so funny?”

You giggle for a few moments more, then inhale. “We’re not even in a relationship and you’re talking about kids!”

“It is a genuine concern!” he says. “Numerous studies stated that infertile couples are three times more likely to separate.”

The seriousness of his tone seems to affect you, and you stop laughing. “But we’re not a couple.”

“And I would hate for that to happen if we were.”

“Tech,” you say sharply. “You just brought over a list about why you don’t want to be in a relationship. Why are you worried about it?”

“It is not that I don’t want to, it’s just that it would be unwise,” he says.

It’s the truth. He’d love nothing more than to be with you. But it’s a bad idea and he’s holding forty-seven reasons why. One of which is infertility and he would really appreciate it if you took it seriously.

And yet now you’re looking at him like he sprouted a second head. Wide eyes. Jaw lowered. Lips parted. “Say that again.”

“It is not a good idea,” he repeats.

You shake your head and speak slowly. “No, the first part.”

He swallows. His cheeks are heating up. “It is not that I don’t want to be in a relationship--”

You spring forward so fast that not even his enhanced reflexes are enough to stop you. The datapad clatters to the floor as you push him back against the sofa and position yourself above him.

“I wanna kiss you,” you whisper. “Can I kiss you?”

His surroundings, all of the tactile sensations he’s getting, every single thought swirling around in his head vanishes with a pop. All that exists is your beautiful, symmetrical face, staring down at him with glittering eyes.

A single word appears, deep in his gut. He has to grab onto it and force it up his throat, past his teeth and tongue to his numb lips, and even then it’s barely louder than the breeze through a field of grass.

“Please,” he croaks.

The glitter in your eyes turns to a shine. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, you lower yourself towards him. Your breasts make contact with his chest first, and he wishes he hadn’t worn his armor. He wishes he could feel their warmth, their weight, resting against him.

And then your lips make contact with his and he doesn’t wish for anything at all.

Tech has never been kissed before. He’s seen it, heard others talking about it, how much they crave it. He didn’t put much stock into it. It seemed like it would be unpleasant.

He was wrong.

Your lips are gentle and warm against his, soft and smooth as satin. Your muscles move beneath the skin, as if you’re putting great effort into keeping them still.

He wants to linger in this moment forever.

But all things must end, and just as soon as you make contact, you pull away. Your eyes are lidded slightly, making you look intoxicated. Your tongue peeks out from behind your lips, visible for only a moment.

He wants to taste it.

He throws his arms around your waist and pulls you flush against him. One hand snakes up to press your head back down towards his as he rises to meet you.

He's a man possessed, watching his body act of its own accord. He moves his lips against yours and, though you peep in surprise, you reciprocate. You part your lips and he feels the warmth of your breath and the coolness of your mouth and you taste like hyperspace looks.

He has no idea what that means, but it feels right.

“Tech,” you whisper into his mouth.

Hearing his name come from your lips is like heaven. He murmurs yours back, and he gets a coo so sweet in response that he gasps.

You pull away, concern knitting your brow. “You okay?” you pant.

He nods. “Yes. This is a... new experience.”

Your jaw drops. You look both sad and elated. “Well, I’m honored to be your first.”

He’s glad you’re the first as well. With any luck, you’ll be the only.

He licks his lips. They taste faintly of meiloorun. “...I would like to kiss you again.”

Your eyes sparkle with delight. They drift closed as you lean in to catch his lips in yours.

---

He doesn't know how long he lays with you atop him, exploring your mouth, but the sun has set by the time he leaves. Or you let him leave, rather. You refuse to let him go until he promises to come by tomorrow so you can buy him dinner.

The phrase walking on air never made much sense to him, but as he strolls through the streets, he thinks he gets it.

Hunter is examining the contents of a cargo crate when Tech returns. He initially doesn’t pay him any mind, but he double-takes and raises a brow. “Where’ve you been?”

“Seeing a friend.” He adjusts his goggles. “Why?”

“You got...” He rubs his thumb along his lower lip. “...on your mouth...”

Tech touches his fingertips to his mouth. Pulling away, a swash of color stains his gloves.

Uh-oh.

He scrubs the back of his hand along his mouth just as Echo pokes his head out the door of the Marauder, quickly joined by Omega and Wrecker. “So how’d it go?” he asks.

Somehow, he manages to keep his voice even. “Better than expected,” he replies. “We’re getting dinner tomorrow night.”

Echo’s eyebrows shoot up as Omega’s jaw drops. Wrecker barks a laugh and jostles Echo with his elbow. Hunter continues to look confused.

“Seriously, what happened?” he asks. “Is this about your girlfriend?”

Tech opens his mouth to respond, only to pause. Instead, he nods. “It is,” he says.

Hunter waits for the correction, but it doesn't come. His brows slowly rise, and he breaks into a knowing grin.

---

Thank you for reading! Special thanks to my bf for putting on Revolver just when I was looking for an epigraph. <3

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