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falesten-iw · 2 months ago

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There’s a bittersweet joy in witnessing the struggles of the Syrian people bear moments of hope, but it feels like a fleeting spark, a fragile light overshadowed by deeper, relentless forces. Can we call this freedom? Or is it just a brief pause in a cycle of pain that has gripped us for far too long?

For decades, the Middle East has been scarred by war, division, and unimaginable suffering. These aren’t random tragedies, they are deliberate, calculated acts meant to maintain control. As long as Zionism continues to reshape the region, inching closer to the goal of a Greater Israel, true freedom for any of us will remain a distant dream.

But freedom isn’t just about removing one dictator or another. Real freedom requires dismantling the entire system that keeps us in chains. It’s about a shift in power, a dismantling of structures that oppress us all. Until Palestine is free, until the people who are suffering are allowed to breathe, none of us can say we’re free.

This isn’t just a political issue for me, it’s personal. My family in Gaza is living through an unthinkable reality: genocide, freezing cold nights without shelter, hunger, and prices so high that survival is a struggle each day. They’re stuck in a nightmare that keeps getting worse, and their suffering is not just a faraway tragedy, it’s a pain that echoes through me.

And yet, despite the immense pain, I hold on to hope. Because I know that change is possible. Every small donation, every act of solidarity, can ripple outward and transform lives. This isn’t just charity, it’s resistance. It’s standing together to defy those who profit from our suffering. You have the power to be part of this change. Stand with Gaza. Stand for freedom. Stand for humanity.

This campaign is for 26 lives hanging by a thread, including two orphaned children and a family member suffering from hemiplegia after being hit by shrapnel during a bombing. She urgently needs surgery to replace infected plates in her body. The situation is dire, and every day is a battle. The video showing the injured family member was shared earlier in this post: Link.

Please help us ! Donate and reblog this post to spread our story.

Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.

Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link

Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link

Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link

Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link

If, for some reason, you couldn't donate via GoFundMe, you can donate via PayPal instead. Please keep the conversion rates in mind when donating through GoFundMe. Every 100 SEK is equivalent to 10 dollars, and 200 SEK equals 20 dollars and so on.

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dee-the-red-witch · 7 months ago

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How to ACTUALLY date a trans girl

(This column was originally submitted to Autostraddle as a reply to their "A Trans Guy’s Guide to Picking Up a Trans Girl" but since they've apparently passed on it, it gets to be posted up free everywhere else instead.) Picture this- you’re a trans woman who’s been in transition for three years now. Your dating life has gone from abysmal to amazing in alternate fits and spurts and you’ve found not just one, but three awesome partners despite the many, MANY pitfalls you’ve experienced along the way. And then one day, your social media feeds ping up with screencaps of a guide to picking up girls like yourself. Needing a good laugh, you click through. And read. And proceed to smack your forehead with your own palm in frustration a few times and giggle and some other lines on the first readthrough. But things feel off, so you read again. And begin to seethe. And then start opening up the Word document and start typing frenziedly into it. Because honestly? At the end of the day, as a trans lesbian who dates all sorts of people on non-male parts of the amorphous spectral mass that is Gender, I feel like I’m obligated to. I wanted to go into that first reading and find a column that actually got things right, and this was so far off the mark in the worst ways, so I feel like I have to set some things down on paper. Because this guide reads, in so many ways, like everything my cisfem friends have complained about in the straight dating scene for years. Reading through it that second time, I felt almost the exact same sense of of sheer grease and sleaze that I’ve felt reading incel pickup guides. I felt like I was being seen as a pretty object at best and a disposable sex toy at worst. I wasn’t treated as human. At best it was a bunch of stereotypes, none of which applied to me. But under it all, I saw other bits- the tricks an abuser used to lure me in. The lies my rapist fed me. The excuses made by folks online for why I should be treated like a monster or thing because of my identity. You know, the specific blend of misogyny that singles out transfem identities in general- transmisogyny. And since we’re addressing the elephant in the room, I want to address a few particular points from Gabe’s article before I give you some real idea of how to go about this. And I want to emphasize here- this is after editing out a page of swearing, going over Gabe’s own past history of transmisogynistic writing, and just cutting it down to the actual points where the original article really went wrong, and also pick up a few points at the end that’ll actually work well for trans guys or anyone else who might be interested in a relationship with a trans girl. First off, if you’re trans as well? Stop playing the ‘we’re both trans’ card. ESPECIALLY if you’re coming at it from a ‘Why yes, I used to be a woman’ angle. For one, you’re telling us at the same time that you see us as former men, which is usually very much not the transfem experience (Personally, I always felt like I was putting on a ‘man’ act. All the time. Badly.) and for another, you’re being transphobic to yourself and your own identity. If we’re there to date you, it’s as the man you are- be that guy.

Secondly, just because the trans woman experience shares similarities with the experience you had trying to be a woman up until you came out and transitioned, it also has staggering fundamental differences, and your attempts to relate are going to highlight those differences in ways that aren’t going to work in your favor. We didn’t get to go shopping in public, or if we did, it was fraught with fear at being caught out in the early stages of transition, followed by massive frustrations with both trying to figure out where we fit into women’s sizing. And then discovering that absolutely nothing available in local stores, including thrift shops, would fit right, especially not that cute choker we’d always been drooling over. That nothing smelled right for lotion or perfume because we were dealing with a body chemistry that was going through a slow shift on HRT. And we don’t need or want to be reminded of just how much we stand out from the other girls in those kind of regards.

Also, maybe, just maybe, don’t do things that would get seen as completely misogynistic and creepy if you pulled them on a cisgender woman. Don’t go digging into her socials- stalkers and chasers pull that crap and it’s beyond tiresome. Don’t try to deduce what her pretransition life was like, that’s for her to share, if she chooses to. Don’t see her as a stereotype- some of us never played New Vegas, owned cat ears, or like thigh-highs. On that first date if you ever get there, don’t bring her flowers, lovebomb her like mad, constantly find little ways to touch her, any of that- if she has any experience, she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop in response, because she’s had this treatment before and it ended oh so badly. Just be yourself. And get it through your head that the bear is still definitely a choice regardless of everything- after all, we have examples like Gabe to prove that transmisogyny certainly isn’t limited to cis folks.

What should you do? Treat her like any other woman. Treat her like a human being, because we get so little of that, even from the rest of the LGBTQIA+ community. Yes, you’ll more than likely have to take initiative, because we’re used to seeing our attractions, needs, and desires as being perceived as aggressive or predatory by others. When you touch her, do it with assertion and intent- none of the little brushes and stalker moves- ask if you can hold her hand, or put an arm around her, so she knows you actually want to be here and want contact with her. Listen to her, and pay attention- let her be open and honest about her experiences and interests, and remember what she tells you, because she’s going to need to know that she’s wanted and valued for who she is and what she’s into, and it will be part of how she connects to you. And finally? Common sense and communication- every last one of us is different in a lot of ways, and asking or making room to talk about things from physical contact and sex to social activity or group outings or anything else can save a lot of blunders from ever happening. All in all you can and should date trans women! Please! A lot of the best relationships I’ve ever had were with other trans girls and I don’t regret any of those. But you have to put down the pickup guides, stop seeing us as fetish dispensers and sexy lampshades, and actually deal with us as people, first.

#A Trans Guy's guide to picking up a trans girl #Autostraddle #Trans #Transgender #transmisogyny #dating

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littlelamy · 11 days ago

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𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮𝓼

parings: rafe cameron x reader

synopsis: rafe catches you pleasuring yourself!

warnings: 18+, smut

author's note: hi everyone!! sorry for not being as active on this blog. im going to try and post (and answer more asks) from now on!!

rafe’s footsteps were slow, deliberate, the leather of his boots a whisper against the polished floor. he had come home early, the plans he’d canceled clearly secondary to the discovery laid out before him: you, sprawled on the bed, your back arched as your fingers gripped the base of a slick dildo, thighs glistening in the low light, evidence of how long you'd been working yourself, head thrown back, moans filling the space, completely unaware. until now.

the creak of the bedroom door had you freezing, eyes snapping open to meet his piercing gaze. his lips curled into a slow, dangerous smirk, the kind that promised trouble.

"well, well," rafe drawled, voice low and gravelly. "couldn't wait for me, huh? decided to be a greedy little slut all by yourself."

"I—" you stammered, cheeks flushing with heat, but the words died as he strode toward the bed, his presence overwhelming. he grabbed the toy still buried in your soaked cunt and yanked it free, making you gasp at the sudden emptiness.

"you're dripping," he said, his tone a mixture of amusement and reprimand. he ran the tip of the dildo along your folds, teasing, before tossing it aside like it was worthless. "this is what you need? some plastic junk? i'll show you what you need."

before you could respond, his hands were on you, flipping you onto your stomach with effortless strength. his weight pinned you down as his fingers probed your slickness, one thrusting inside with ease, then another, his thumb circling your clit.

"you're so wet for me," rafe murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "but i think we can do better. i think all these holes of yours need attention tonight."

rafe’s eyes roved over your quivering body, stretched out beneath him like a banquet he was starving to devour. he licked his lips, dragging his gaze from the glistening mess between your thighs to the dildo discarded beside you. a chuckle rumbled low in his throat, dark and wicked.

"you’re insatiable, aren’t you?" his voice was thick with mockery and hunger. he reached for the slick, glistening toy, still wet from your arousal, holding it up as if to inspect it. "did this little thing really satisfy you? or were you just getting started?"

you whimpered, squirming under his intense scrutiny, but his hand was already on your hip, pinning you firmly in place. "rafe, i—"

"you don’t get to talk right now," he growled, cutting you off as he shifted onto the bed, positioning himself behind you. his large hand slid down your back, forcing an arch in your spine. "you think you can touch yourself like this and not get caught? oh, baby, we’re doing things my way now."

the cool tip of the dildo pressed against your slick entrance again, teasing, but instead of thrusting it where you expected, he dragged it lower, smearing your wetness between the cheeks of your ass. your breath hitched as the realization hit, and you wriggled in his grip, but his hand clamped down harder, holding you still.

"stay. fucking. still." his voice was a command, laced with promise. "you’re gonna take this, and you’re gonna thank me for it."

you trembled, biting your lip, anticipation mixing with trepidation as the tip of the dildo pressed against the tight ring of your ass. rafe’s other hand spread you wider, his thumb stroking possessively along your skin. he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. "relax, baby. let me in. i know you can handle it."

with a deliberate push, the dildo breached your tightness, the stretch making you gasp. rafe groaned low, watching the way your body resisted, then surrendered to him. "fuck, look at that," he murmured, almost to himself. "taking it so well. such a good girl for me."

he pushed it deeper, slow and relentless, until the toy was buried halfway. the burn mixed with pleasure, and you couldn’t stop the moan that spilled from your lips. rafe’s grin widened, his free hand slipping around to toy with your dripping folds, fingers finding your clit and stroking it in lazy circles.

"see? you’re already loving this," he taunted, his voice a seductive growl. "your greedy little body just needs to be stuffed full, doesn’t it?"

he twisted the dildo, making you cry out, your back arching further. "you can scream if you want. no one’s here to save you. no one but me, and i’m not done with you yet."

as the toy slid deeper, he leaned back, taking in the sight of you completely at his mercy. his cock strained against his jeans, the image of you stuffed with the toy making him throb painfully. "this is just the start, baby," he promised, fingers still working your clit. "by the time i’m done with you, you won’t know what it feels like to be empty."

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henry7931 · 2 months ago

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Great Shift; We Didn’t Choose These Bodies…

Trevor:

I’m officially 2 months into the Great Shift and I’m about to go insane! You see before all of this craziness went down— I was a 18 year old scrawny gay boy who lived across the street. The body that seems to be now mine forever belonged to 47 year old Jason Dixon. He’s a handsome guy, works in construction, and has one son named Carson.

Now Carson, is someone I’ve known since I was young. He’s a couple years older than me and I hate to say it but he was kinda my sexual awakening. He was on the swim team and I remember seeing him in a speedo— something about it just woke me up. And now all of this time later I still get weak to the knees when I see him.

Now the hard part about all of this is that our community has chosen as a whole to “pretend” and live our lives in public as the body we are in.

Which can be hard given people have swapped with different genders, ages… it gets kinda weird. But when I’m out in public, I’m Jason. No one causes me Trevor anymore, well accept for Ben.

Ben is a guy who lived a couple blocks down from me, I really didn’t know Ben prior to the Great Shift. He was a middle aged gay guy who lived alone. And now he’s inside of Carson’s body.

We both now live under a house together that never belonged to us and are forced to pretend to be ‘father and son’ in public.

At home both of us have just really enjoyed each other’s company. We’re both gay and openly talk about guys, what we like about them, music, all kinds of stuff. The house is kind of our safe space to be ourselves.

Except him and I have one huge issue— we both are very attracted to each other’s bodies. Ben confessed to me one time while we were sitting on the couch together drinking a bottle of wine that Jason’s body is like the man of his dreams.

And I get it, Mr. Dixon is a good looking guy. I enjoy having his big muscled hairy body on a daily basis. Especially since he has a gigantic cock and a pair of sexy feet.

I guess they’re something he passed down to Carson because I can’t stop looking at them! I already had a foot fetish before this mess and I have to watch Ben strut around in his body… he never wears socks or a shirt or pants for that matter!

So what do I do in response? Well, I turned it up a notch. Not only did I strip down to less but I stopped wearing underwear around the house. I’ll free ball so he can see my sexy daddy junk flopping around as I walk. And boy did I get his attention!

He can’t take his eyes off of it!

That lead to the back and forth mirror selfies… both of sending more and more risky photos of each other.

And then came Ben placing Carson’s big smelly feet on my lap… I know he knows I have a thing for feet! He looks over at me with a very cheeky ton and says, “my feet are killing me! Could you rub them?”

And of course I said yes, I rubbed his feet for 15 minutes until I knew I couldn’t take anymore!

I hightailed it to the bathroom, locked the door, and wanked one out. I knew in that moment, I was done with games. I need to address this.

So that night, we sat on the couch after dinner watching a movie. I wrap my arm around him and he freezes up.

“Sorry need to stretch out a bit, I say to him.”

He acknowledges my excuse and leans his on me.

I start rubbing up and down his forearm softly wondering if he’s going to do something about it.

He says nothing… a few moments later, Ben puts his feet on mine and starts rubbing his toes back and forth.

I lift my head up and look at him. I kiss him on the cheek. He looks taken aback by it.

“Trev, you know we can’t.”

“And why the fuck not?”

“Because we are technically father and son…”

“That’s such a BS excuse, you flirt with me for weeks now. You and I aren’t related. Now these bodies might be but who the hell has to know?”

“Yeah but what if we get caught?”

“We won’t… now just relax.”

I grab his junk and lets out a yelp noise.

“You’ve toyed with me for too long Ben. You and I are going to explore every inch of each other starting tonight. You’re gonna come sleep in daddy‘s bed for now on do you understand?”

“Fuck…”

I pulled his pants down and fully expose him. I see his beautiful cock, really for the first time. It’s so hard and already leaking. I’ve bend my head down and gingerly lick become off of his head. I knew that been like to be dominated. We both shared our fantasies with each other. He’s always wanted some handsome hairy bearded muscular daddy to boss him around. And that’s what I’m gonna do.

“ Do you understand daddy‘s orders?,” I say to him. he knows his head. I grabbed his dick and play with the head of his cock, running my thumb back-and-forth on it.

“ I said did you understand daddy’s orders? I need to hear you.”

“Yes—“

“ yes what?”

“Yes daddy!”

“ good now let’s head to bed, daddy needs you to use that pretty mouth of yours on his massive cock.”

I pull off my shorts and out comes Jason’s massive dick that I know he’s been fantasizing for a long time now.

“ Trevor, this is so fucking hot. Thank you for doing this. I’ve been wanting the touch that body for so long. I wanna suck your cock so bad. I wanna feel up and down that hairy chest. I wanna smell those big manly feet. I want you to cuddle at night. God I’m so happy this is finally happening. Deep down since this whole swap thing happened it’s all I’ve ever wanted. Not only are you in the body of my dreams, but I really like you.”

“ fuck Ben! Way to kill the mood with that last part, I really fucking like you too. How about we just stick to role-playing and worry about our emotions later. Daddy’s worrying as fuck lol.”

“ shit you wanna get really crazy what about if you’re sexy ass son talk to you tonight?”

“ that’s hot as shit you know I’m a bottom!”

“ yeah but you’re gonna have to tell me every now and then especially with that massive dick of yours.”

“ well then I want a foot job. You know I like feet and you know what I like those feet. Which by the way, you’re such a dick for making rub them for like 30 minutes the other day. I literally had to run to the bathroom and jerk one out.”

“ ha ha I literally I knew it!”

“So you ready?”

“Yep!!”

#body swap #male tf #male body swap

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beloveds-embrace · 3 months ago

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I’m not sure if you’re taking anymore requests but can you do poly141 who finds a small fairy reader? Mystical reader so little she fits in their hands?

Tiny baby reader… yes. Fair warning i wrote this while sleepy and tired and i completely forgot to add in when reader learns their name 😭 sorry for any more mistakes!

The forest was unusually quiet, blanketed in mist that made every breath feel cool and crisp. It was the kind of morning that seemed unremarkable, easy to forget. They walked carefully along the narrow path, hunting gear packed away in favor of simple jackets and quiet conversation. Retirement had given them, once a formidable task force, the luxury of slow days, but old habits died hard; their senses remained keen, always searching for any change in the air.

And that’s when they saw it- a flicker of light, faint and trembling, deep within a thicket. It could have been a trick of the morning sun, but they hadn’t survived as long as they have by chalking up everything strange, unusual think to happenstance.

“Careful.” John murmured, voice low and commanding. They nodded, pushing through the brush with quiet purpose and carefulness, until the glimmer came into focus.

There, tangled in a web of thin brambles, was something neither war nor time had ever prepared them for- a tiny, shimmering, actually-real fairy, no larger than the palm of a hand. Your wings, gossamer-thin and glowing with iridescent light, fluttered weakly as you tried to free you. You turned your head, eyes wide and filled with a mix of fear and exhaustion, and they all felt their breath catch.

Soap was the first to recover. “Bloody hell,” he whispered, his voice tinged with awe. He took a cautious step forward, hands up as if approaching a skittish animal. He couldn’t believe his eyes, but you are real. You are actually real. “Hey now, it’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt ya.”

The fairy- you -watched him warily, but there was a flicker of hope in your gaze. Gaz crouched next to Johnny, brows furrowed. “We need to get her out of there,” he said, his voice gentle. “Quickly.”

Johnny nodded, already reaching into his pack for a small knife. “Don’t move, all right, wee one? We’ll get you free.” He kept his movements slow, mindful of how fragile you seemed. With careful precision, he began cutting away the brambles, each snip bringing a little more freedom and a little more light. Price and Ghost kept watch over them, cautious still but not really that worried considering your size.

When you were finally free, you collapsed, too weak to stay upright. Gaz caught you, cradling you in his hands as if you were made of glass. “You’re safe now.” he murmured, his eyes soft. He could feel the faint warmth of your glow against his skin, like holding a tiny ember. More proof that you are real, even if it seemed so impossible.

Your wings twitched, and with a shaky breath, you looked up at them. “Thank…you,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a sweet chime in the wind.

“You are talking,” Soap breathed, a childlike wonder lighting up his face. “You talk.” It makes you giggle just a little, if you are honest with yourself. Your wings attempt to flutter behind you, but they are not Quite Right. You shift on your feet, visibly unsure now.

John stepped closer, his gaze warm but measured, and bent down so his face was at the same level as your body. “Easy there. You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” His thumb, calloused from years of wielding weapons, gently brushed a stray leaf from your hair. He had to be extra careful, extra slow so as to not alarm you, and then holds his hand out for you to step into. “Your wings aren’t moving right, are they? We can help you.”

You shake your head slowly to his first question, looking away from his eyes. You’d never really approached humans before… always too big and scary, but there four were nice, at the very least. You and your unique magic couldn’t sense anything particularly bad from them, so that’s why you hadn’t immediately tried to fly far, far away from them.

You lean into John’s touch, sitting down and holding onto his thumbs for stability. You do know out of all of them, you still haven’t heard the masked one speak, just felt him bore his gaze at you, but you don’t care. “Where… are we going?” You ask instead.

“Near our cottage,” Price said, voice low and soothing. “Not far. We can bring you there, get you warm and fed, and you can let your wings rest there.”

You nodded slowly, exhaustion overcoming you. John held you close while they comtinued walking back. As you rested, your glow dimmed to a soft warmth that seeped into his palms and made them glow, a quiet reminder of your presence. The journey back was filled with silent glances- each man marveling at the fact that something so otherworldly, so impossibly delicate, had chosen to trust them.

When they arrived at the cottage, Soap carefully laid out a small, soft cloth on the table, creating a makeshift bed for you to rest one while Kyle thought you’d enjoy having a different option, so he placed a leafy pot nearby for yoh. Ghost silently set a thimble of water nearby while John stirred a pot on the stove, filling the room with a comforting aroma. You drank slowly, savoring every drop and feeling strength return to your body, to your wings.

“Better?” Ghost asked you at last, voice low, his eyes never leaving you. You nodded, a grateful smile breaking across your face despite the hints of fear caused by his mask. You didn’t see it, but there was a collective untensing of shoulders, worry lessening.

Over the next few hours, you spoke in halting words, telling them of the storm that had torn through the woods and separated you from your kin. They listened with full attention, not interrupting you. Kyle even offered you a finger to lean on when you shivered a little, reminded of the pain while you recounted your tale. But after that, you continue your rest, now the one asking them questions and learning who they are.

By evening, you were still nestled in the soft, makeshift bed near the fire, your wings catching the flickering light. As you drifted into a peaceful sleep, your light grew stronger- very content in your warm spot, and feeling safe and secure from wild animals and the weather outside. Occasionally, you feel different hands and fingers brush across your head, and each time it makes you let out a happy squeak, uncaring for the conversations happening in the background.

You wonder if they’d let you stay with them…

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eevees-hobbies · 7 months ago

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Don't Threaten Me With a Good Time!

This is a response to this anon request: Hii can i request wind breaker boys : bofurin and shishitoren with a reader that love to flirt and hard to flustered although they tried to do it back? Thank you

Author’s Note: Thank you, Anon, for being my first Wind Breaker request! I feel like we were on the same wavelength because I was planning on doing a flirt fic/headcanon, but you beat me to it! Unshy and bold is how I like to write my readers, too!

Content Warning: Fem!Reader x Characters. Not smut but highly suggestive in some parts. Use of the word slut in the beginning background piece, a brief examination of the word and scenarios in which it’s weaponized. If you’re not into that, feel free to skip that part. But I’ve seen what some of you all are into and seen some of those reblogs—you know who you are, so spare me. You’re also a major flirt. Like, you’re at a 10 on the flirt scale. Go, you! Nothing too explicit, but here’s what we’re working with: mention of panties in Sakura’s. Kaji needs to learn to keep items inside of his mouth…unless? Suo intends to punish you so pick a god and pray. Hiragi needs you to chill out…but say more, please. Umemiya is too shy to ask you to call him Daddy (please call him Daddy). Togame tells you what you’ll be sitting on by the end of the night (also mention of alcohol in his). Nirei is a cute little bean <3. Minors Don’t Interact.

As always, I appreciate comments, reblogs, and likes. Requests are as open as my legs are for Haruka Sakura’s dick.

Word Count: 2.8K

Dividers by Saradika. Story banner by me.

Background: How You Got Here

You’ve always hated the word ‘slut’

It’s not that you wouldn’t personally consider yourself one. Depending on your ideologies, reclaiming the word can feel liberating and you find that to be true for yourself.

You consider yourself to be naturally flirty, sexy, bold, and charismatic. You can also be a bit of a tease and have slut-like-tendancies in the bedroom, so, sure, a slut. And for the right person or people, if you’re feelin’ nasty, you’re willing to be whatever they want you to be.

You’ve just grown to hate the word because slut is often used to mischaracterize a woman that men often can’t understand.

They can’t, or choose not to, understand a woman who is vocal about who she wants and how she wants it.

They call women sluts who do the chasing.

They call women sluts who fuck on the first date.

They call women sluts who don’t fuck on the first date.

The word slut has lost all meaning.

Patriarchy issues aside, this wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t also have a mouth on you. So when some low-life-loser cat calls you from across the street, asking if you got a man and then calling you a slut because you chose not to answer in front of his five loser friends, you turn around and yell, “Sorry, buddy! Experiencing disappointing sexual experiences isn’t on my bingo card for tonight!”

“What the FUCK did you just say to me?”

And contrary to what some may say, you aren’t fucking stupid. You know what happens to women when a man hates them and decides that you’re the object of their rage.

So, you often find yourself running in situations like this. Running until your lungs are about to explode and the only thing keeping you going is adrenaline and the fear that that word—and your mouth—might get you snuffed out.

You’re looking over your shoulder as your assailants close the distance, painfully aware that this can’t go on for too much longer when you collide with someone’s chest. Strong hands grip your arms, anchoring you in place.

You look up, expecting to see one of the men from the group but you’re instead taken aback by the stranger in front of you. He seems like the kind of boy you’d let call you a slut��-his close-mouthed smile disarms you, and even though it doesn’t reach his eyes, you’re almost certain he’s someone you can trust. You don’t have too many options right now, anyway!

His tassel earrings swing as he raises his head from looking down at you, and his eyes follow the sound of running feet emerging from the alley.

“Oh? You look like you could use some help. Stand over there for me?” He tilts his head when asking you the question, but part of you feels like he’s not really asking, so you nod and watch with bated breath as the young man methodically mows down every one of the men.

Afterward, he turns to you, pristine and perfect, “I can’t let you walk home alone after that.”

“Sure,” you say, taking his outstretched hand. What’s your name? I have to know the name of the person who just saved me.”

“Oh, I guess that’s a fair point. My name is Hayato Suo. It’s nice to meet you despite the circumstances.”

It’s not long after that event that you fall into the protection of the Bofurin & Shishitoren men; your natural charisma quickly gets you in their good graces and earns you a special spot among their ranks. You give off mascot vibes—if mascots were cute and didn’t have gigantic, scary bodies!

Hanging out with them means being yourself without experiencing judgment or retribution. Your laid-back persona and flirting are met with laughs, blushes, and even sometimes flirtation in return. You’ve never felt more at home than with them.

Haruka Sakura

Flirting with Haruka Sakura is like flirting with a brick wall; either he notices and chooses to ignore the situation as his face turns a crimson red, or he’ll yell at you for being a pervert in public. And both of those reactions are equally cute, so when one day you’re sitting at a booth at Cafe Pothos—-with Sakura, Suo & Nirei—-you decide that this is the perfect environment to get him riled up.

You gently knock your shoe against Sakura’s, which earns you an eyebrow twitch as he continues to shovel food into his mouth. Oblivious as always.

You do it again to prove that it wasn’t an accidental nudge. Sakura’s eyes shoot up to yours, frantic because this is something you would do. His eyes are met with your innocent smile and subtle shoulder shrug.

As you all continue eating (excluding Suo, who enjoys a cup of tea), you gradually move your foot up his leg until it rests between his thighs. Sakura is trembling like a leaf, eyes darting between the faces of your friends, who could very well notice that you’re trying to get him to play footsie under the table. What if they notice?

The meal concludes; Suo and Nirei exit the restaurant, and you and Sakura linger for a bit. Part of you hopes that he’ll call out your behavior, but he’s doing his best eye-avoidant routine. As you rise to leave, Sakura stops you, grabbing you by the hem of your sleeve and pushing you into the last booth at the back of the restaurant, where the line of sight is blocked.

Sakura climbs on top of you, your bodies crammed into the leather booths in a way that feels deliciously intimate. His hands are holding your arms at your sides, and his knee settles in between your thighs—and you are now more than ever painfully aware of how high your skirt has bunched up as his knee is dangerously close to brushing up against the seat of your panties.

“Y-you can’t control yourself in public, can you!?” Sakura practically spits out. He’d sound angry to anyone else, but that’s not what you see in his eyes.

You look up at him, mesmerized by his vulnerability and the proximity of his well-placed knee. "Do you want me to stop, Haruka?”

He again avoids eye contact with you, but the way he bites his lip gives him away, “No, I-i didn’t say that.”

Akihiko Nirei

“Have you added anyone else to that book of yours, Nirei?”

Nirei beams at you. You’re one of the few people who takes an interest in the compendium of facts and stats he’s collected about the others. He flips through the pages and starts pointing out information he’s added since you’ve last spoken.

You nod along, taking a genuine interest in what he says; you barely notice your hand moving up to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen out of place. His cheeks tinge pink, and he stutters as he continues to read to you.

After he’s done hyper-fixating, a comfortable silence sits between you.

“What do you have about me?” you say, leaning closer to him. You’re teasing him; you don’t exchange blows like the subjects in his journals, so there’s no practical reason for him to collect information on you. That’s what you think until he reaches into his back pocket and brandishes a small notebook with your name on the front.

“I-i uh have the basic demographics, but uh…still need the more personal things like your favorite color and food.”

“What about my bra size?”

“B-bra….” The pencil in his hand snaps, and he looks everywhere but at you. “I uh… s-sure! I’ll take that if you’d like me to!”

You laugh; you genuinely find him endearing. “I’m kidding! We haven’t even had our first date yet, Nirei!”

He looks at you, pulling out a new pencil from seemingly nowhere. “Well, once I find out what food you like, I’ll add the anniversary date of our first date here, too.”

Ren Kaji

Flirting with Kaji feels dangerous, but you do you, friend. You, as an individual, and the way compliments flow easily from your lips makes Kaji uncomfortable, and he admittedly doesn’t understand why someone as gorgeous as you gives him the time of day. It isn’t until you somehow become closer that the absence of your flirting with him sets off blaring alarm bells.

Are you ok?

Who did this to you?

Who does he have to kill?!

As you thumb through the vinyl at your local record store, you feel a bump against your shoulder. You look up and see your favorite platinum blond guard dog; his headphones are settled around his neck, heavy metal pouring from the earphones. His piercing gaze is a clear indication that you might be in trouble. Oops.

“You mad at me or somethin’?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Mad? Why do you think that?”

“You haven’t been pestering me lately, and it feels…odd.”

You can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, even with the round sucker placed snugly in his mouth.

“Ohhhhhh, no, Kaji! I was giving you a break, but if you insist on flirting, how about-”

“Shut up,” he pulls the sucker out of his mouth and presses it against your lips, watching as you purse your glossed lips and kiss the candy. Neither of you breaks eye contact; an unspoken threat between you dares the other to yield first. His eyes narrow as you poke your tongue out and stroke the sides with intentional, slow licks.

“Tch!” he turns quickly, marching away from you. Despite his back being turned, you can tell by the way his arm raises that he’s now placing that saliva-soaked sucker in his mouth.

Hayato Suo

Suo might be one of two people on this list who might be a worthy opponent for you. How do you flirt with someone who is perpetually unbothered? Good question! I see your flirting as back-and-forth quips, playful jabs at one another that get increasingly sexual and oddly specific throughout the day.

If you meet up with the group and one strand of your hair is out of place, Suo chirps, “Bedhead, huh? What were YOU doing last night?”

If you see Suo break a sweat after an intense fight, “Wow, Suo! You really need to work on your stamina. I can imagine a few ways to help with that.”

Sure, it’s all in good fun, but there’s a sexual undertone to it all; between the smiles and sarcastic comments, you’re both participating in your special version of foreplay, and you have never been more turned on.

Everyone around you thinks you should get a room, and as sunset approaches, you two do exactly that.

“Ready to work on that stamina, Suo?” you chide as you push him against the wall in your apartment. You know you’ll pay for man-handling him later, but that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?

His earrings sway back and forth from the force, but he gazes down at you with smoldering ruby-toned eyes. Every smart-mouthed remark you’ve said that day replays in his head, contributing to his desire to make you atone for your brattiness.

“Yes, Y/N and I promise I won’t let you out of bed with your hair a mess like I did this morning.”

Hajime Umemiya

The complexity of Hajime Umemiya should be a case study. You’ve witnessed his laid-back nature as he jokes with friends, and you’ve seen the scary side of him that bubbles over when anyone threatens those he’s closest to.

You’re truly attracted to both sides, but when it comes to you and the way you tease him, running manicured nails through his gelled hair and scratching gently at his scalp, he’s putty in your hands.

One of your favorite ways to experience Umemiya is meeting him in his element: his garden. It allows you to bond with him, and he often shares information about his life. Somewhere, Sugishita is biting his fist.

“Big brother,” you whine as you plant okra, “am I doing this right?”

Umemiya’s eyes widen, and he looks at you across the garden. In what feels like seconds, he’s kneeling in front of you, your hands cupped in his own. “Y-you can’t call me that!”

You blink, confused, “you tell everyone to call you that.”

“I don’t want YOU to call me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s weird when someone you…like…calls you big brother. It’s worse than being called a friend!”

You snort, but when you meet his eyes, you quickly straighten. Oh! He’s serious!

“So, not into me calling you big brother even during our ‘private moments?’ What about ‘Daddy?’ How do you feel about that?”

He laughs loudly—not because he thinks that was especially hilarious—but because you just make him nervous.

“You can call me Hajime or…’my boyfriend?’ Yeah, let's stick with my boyfriend!”

“Not Daddy?”

“I won’t stop you! Now, how about that okra???”

Toma Hiragi

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

Hiragi’s simultaneously rubbing a knot out of his neck while chastising you. You found yourself in an all too familiar situation, running errands when a drunken man approached you and began to hurl “that word” in your direction when he didn’t find your reaction to his advances to be appropriate: same shit, different day.

As you were looking for an escape route, Hiragi rounded the corner and snatched the man by the collar—it was almost comical to see the drunkard's feet dangle feverishly off the ground. With a scowl and a threat from Hiragi, he was stumbling off.

You sigh, “I don’t mean to be a burden, Hiragi. But something on my forehead must read, ‘fuck with me’ because this is becoming a common occurrence.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he grumbles, “I just find myself worrying about you too much. Might give you my jacket to keep these creeps at bay.”

Before the last syllable leaves his lips, he’s stuttering and trying to walk the statement back, “I mean uh…or any Bofurin jacket! We have boxes of these somewhere! Not mine, per se.”

You smile, placing a hand on his toned bicep. “I’d love to wear my protector's jacket.”

You need not say more. He removes his oversized jacket and places it over your shoulders. The smell of him and the warmth he left behind makes your heart flutter. You give him your best grin, “you know you’re never getting this back, right?”

“See? A pain in my ass. With a mouth like that, I’m goin’ to have to teach you how to fight.”

You lean into his arm, “With a mouth like this, you might have to teach me more than how to fight.”

“Jesus.”

Jo Togame

Jo Togame is the other person on this list who’ll give you a run for your money when trying to flirt. He may seem turtle-adjacent, but his rebuttals to your flirtation attempts are quick.

You’ve been shooting Togame smoldering glances for the entirety of the night, and even though Shishitoren men surround him, he’ll catch you looking, give you a lopsided grin, and then turn his attention back to the group,

You lick your lips. The draw of his signature sweatpants, black, loose-fitting tee, and Shishitoren jacket is doing something to you.

And maybe it’s because you’re on your fifth shot of mystery concoction, and the music they’re playing at the house party makes you feel bold and think that what you’re about to do is a good idea.

With all the courage you can muster, you walk up to Togame. He tilts his head in your direction, but you can see amusement in his jade-colored eyes.

“Took you long enough. Thought you were never gonna get tired of starin’ at me.”

“Dance with me!” you yell over the music. You can feel everyone in the group sizing you up and waiting to hear how Togame responds.

He puts his beer down and takes your hand. You pull him to the center of the room, where a makeshift dance floor has been constructed. You allow the music to move you before you can talk yourself out of whatever is happening. Togame puts his hand on your waist and allows you to grind against him and to the beat.

“You like the idea of making me nervous, huh?”

You stand on the tips of your toes to get as close to his ear as possible, “You caught me! Is it working?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, “No because I know exactly how this night is going to end.”

Your heart picks up a bit as his hands slide down from your waist and rest above your ass.

“How?” You squeak.

“With you grinding just like this on my dick.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he presses his lips against yours, his kiss hot and hungry.

Your eyes flutter closed, and you agree that this night will likely end how he prophesized.

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katsu28 · 3 months ago

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summer's golden haze - chapter three

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: bar hopping, damsels in drunken distress, and a late night heart to heart. (5.1k)

warnings: swearing, alcohol, lando talks about the hungarian gp shitshow

a/n: yes this is me maybe slightly projecting my feelings about hungary onto my characters okay! they're my barbie dolls to play with i can do whatever i want 😌↕️ anyways hope u enjoy <3

previous chapter | masterlist

“Hello? Are you even listening?”

You blink, bringing yourself back to reality and back to the current conversation. Your friends are looking back at you with matching concerned, albeit a little annoyed expressions. “What? Sorry, I was—I’m here, sorry. What’s going on?”

Samira tuts, but not unkindly. They all know you’ve got a million things running in your mind at the moment. “I was saying our dinner reservations got canceled. Something about the kitchen having to close down for maintenance, I dunno. Anyways, it frees us up tonight and we’re trying to figure out what to do instead.”

“Oh. We could stay in? Order some food, watch a movie?”

“I know what we need,” Camille gasps suddenly, eyes lighting up like she’s just had a brilliant idea. “We’re going bar hopping tonight.”

“Bar hopping? We haven’t done that since—” You pause, taking a moment to think. You haven’t been bar hopping since Samira got dumped by her girlfriend a few months back, the time before that when Maren finally cut ties with her situationship last year. The only time you all go bar hopping is after a breakup. They think what happened with Lando is the same as breaking up with a partner. “Guys, seriously, I’m fine. He was never even my boyfriend anyways!”

“Say what you want, but you’ve been super out of it these past few days. You need to let loose, do something that makes you stop thinking of Lando and start thinking about yourself again.”

You scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. “I think about myself plenty.”

Camille rolls her eyes at you. “I mean not in that mopey, sad ‘I say everything is fine even though it’s not’ way. There’s more fish in the sea than Lando. Find one, or don’t, it’s up to you. But you need to forget about him.”

Your lips press into a thin line as you sink back into your seat.

You don’t want another fish in the sea. You want the weird little crab with the cute accent and the sparkly eyes, the one you’ve already let back into the water.

The one you can’t have.

Things haven’t been too awkward with Lando yet, but they definitely aren’t the same. Two people who really like each other but have decided to remain friends doesn’t really scream smooth sailing from now on to you. The wound is still fresh, and there are hints of it as you spend more time with the guys.

Immediately filling the empty seat next to each other like it’s second nature but then having to awkwardly scoot away when your shoulders bump or your hands brush. Lingering glances across tables and rooms until one of you breaks and looks away first. Finding him first in a place full of other people and drifting towards him, only to come to your senses and switch up directions at the last moment.

You wish you could say forgetting Lando would be easy. It really isn’t—not when your friend groups have basically melded into one big one, and everyone gets along so well. It would’ve been easier if you’d gone your separate ways, but you don’t think your heart would’ve liked that very much. Not that it enjoys skipping a beat every time you catch Lando’s eyes on you a little too long either.

You wrinkle your nose, brows following. “I’m sad and mopey?”

“A little bit.”

“Okay, fine. Fine, let’s go bar hopping,” You concede, letting your shoulders drop.

If you’re going to get over him, you might as well start right now.

That’s how you end up in bar number one of the night, four tequila shots on the bar table in front of you. You eye the unassuming little glass warily, even as each of your friends snatch one up eagerly.

Samira, as if sensing your hesitation, nudges yours toward you. “It’s one shot, babe. It won’t kill you.”

“I know that,” You insist, throwing your shoulders back. “I just…need a second.”

“Take all the time you need. We’re going all night.”

Tonight isn’t about your feelings for Lando. Tonight is about you moving on, moving past what could’ve been with him and looking forward to what might come next. With or without him.

You hold up your shot towards them, grinning big. “Here’s to moving forward, and making memories that’ll last a lifetime!”

Clinking your glass against all of theirs, you throw back the clear liquid as smoothly as you can, only wincing a little bit at the burn of it going down your throat. It isn’t your usual drink of choice, but change has to start somewhere, right?

-------

As far as bars go, this one isn’t the worst one you’ve been to tonight, but the fun has started to wear off for you. You’d stopped drinking around bar number two, the buzz of your much tamer drink choices after those first few shots starting to die down bit by bit. On the other hand, your friends are still going full steam ahead. You’ve honestly lost track of how many drinks they’ve had at the bars you’ve hit tonight, but they’re holding on pretty well.

“Fuck boys!” Samira exclaims, slamming another shot glass down onto the table with gusto. Maren and Camille agree wholeheartedly with identical slurred ‘yeah, fuck ‘em!’s that make you chuckle into your glass of water.

You know they’re just trying to make you feel better about your decision, and in a way, it helps. You’d finally been able to talk about what went down that afternoon without feeling an indescribable rush of guilt, and although they were disappointed at first, it became less when you’d told them why. They’re your best friends, and they know you better than anyone, so they know for a fact Lando’s lifestyle was not the one for you.

Tonight was supposed to be all about forgetting your feelings, but as the night went on longer and your inhibitions became lower, you still couldn’t help but think about Lando. That mental box you’d put him has burst wide open already.

You’re a little embarrassed to admit it, but you’d done a little research on him after getting home, which turned into a deep dive of his career, his life, anything that piqued your interest in him. You were curious to know what a guy like him saw in someone like you.

It felt a little weird to see him outside the Lando you’ve gotten to know him as, because he seemed…different. He’s still the same sweet guy you know, but on video he’s a more tame version of himself.

Carefully chosen words and shy smiles, he wears his confidence like a suit of armor on camera, to protect himself against the world. Here, he’s all bursting grins and loud belly laughs, unfiltered and so, so happy. He seems so normal, it’s hard to remember that he’s not just your everyday guy. Lando is one of the best and well known racing drivers in the whole world.

Making sure to separate the two is important if you want to stay firm in your decision.

Somehow it hits nearly four in the morning, and it’s about high time you make the executive decision to call it quits and go home. The only problem is, you’re the only semi-sober one out of the four of you. You have the car, but you don’t trust yourself to drive in this state. None of your friends are in any shape to be of any help either, not when Maren is nearly passed out on the tabletop, and Camille and Samira drunkenly swaying with each other right next to you.

You don’t really trust any rideshares at this time of night in an unfamiliar place, and even then, there’s no way you can get them all home by yourself. There’s only one other thing you can think of, one other person you can call to help you out. The one person you were hoping to not have to call.

The moment your finger hits Lando’s number, you have half a mind to hang up. You’re about to, but then the line connects.

“Yeah, what?” Lando’s voice is gravelly, thick with sleep. A little grumpy. Of course he’s grumpy, it’s nearing three in the morning and he was probably asleep. You feel bad that you've woken him up, but you couldn't think of anything else.

“Lando? I’m so sorry to be calling you this late, I just didn’t know what else to do.”

Immediately, he sounds more alert when your name leaves his lips. “Is everything alright? What’s up?”

You gnaw on your lip in contemplation until he says your name again, gentler this time. “We’re at a bar in town and the girls are really drunk and we need to get home, but I had a few drinks too so I didn't think I should drive. And I tried to call an Uber but at this time of night I don’t—”

“Hey, no, it’s okay. I can come pick you up.” He interrupts your rambling and you're grateful for it, because the more you talk the more you think this was a bad idea. You’re asking him for too much, you're stretching the limits of an already awkward friendship too far, you're— “Just tell me where you are, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Drop me your location and stay there.” You can hear rustling on his end of the line, pounding on a door, someone’s groggy voice saying something you can’t make out. Then Lando’s voice fills your ear again, soft yet firm. “Hang tight, ‘kay? Be there soon.”

“Thank you so much,” You breath, truly grateful. He hangs up, and you can finally let out a breath of relief. Lando is coming. You won’t be stranded here.

Lando jumps out of the car as soon as it pulls to a stop in front. He’s got on some nondescript jumper with the hood pulled up over his head and a random pair of joggers, and he definitely doesn’t look like he’d just been roused from his sleep. In fact, seeing him all disheveled with worry like this is kind of doing it for you.

You’re in the middle of apologizing again when Lando crashes into you, arms wrapping around you tighter than you’re expecting, nearly squeezing the breath out of you. You meet Max’s eyes over his shoulder, who you’d just realized was also here, and he doesn’t look surprised at all. He looks rather smug, actually.

“Are you okay?” Lando holds you at arms length, worried eyes scanning you for anything out of place, any injury. Other than your pride, you remain unharmed. Though that pesky fluttery feeling in your stomach is back again, as is the warmth in your chest, and it isn’t from the alcohol.

His hood has fallen off from the force of his hug to reveal the tornado of curls on his head, flat on one side from his pillow most likely, as are the lines on his face from what was probably a good night’s sleep. Until you called, that is.

You blink at him, caught off guard by the amount of care he still seems to have for you. It feels like an impossible feat to tear your gaze away from his. “Yes? I mean, yeah, I’m fine. You—wow, you got here fast.”

“I thought maybe something—nevermind.” He cranes his neck around you to glance at your half asleep friends on the bench. “Are…they okay?”

“Yeah, they’re fine. Tequila, y’know?” You shrug.

Max lets out a snort of laughter from where he’s wandered over to check on them, waving a hand in front of Samira’s face. She swats at him halfheartedly, mumbling a sleepy, “Fuck off, Fewtrell.”

“Sorry to wake you too, Max.”

“Oh no, you didn’t wake me. He did.” He juts his chin over at Lando, who still has a hand around your elbow. You can’t help but let your eyes drop down to it, and Lando does too, inhaling sharply before letting go. Still, the warmth from his grip lingers. “And not very nicely might I add.”

“I had to get you up quick!”

“You nearly took my head off with a pillow, you dickhead!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want a kiss on the forehead?” Lando snorts.

“Not from you!”

“Come off it already, won’t you?” Lando turns his attention back to you instead, rolling his eyes playfully when he finds you stifling a giggle behind your palm. “You said you had your car?”

“Um, yeah, it’s around the corner. We can just leave it here, I’ll circle back and pick it up in the morning.”

Lando clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “It’ll probably be stripped for parts by tomorrow. How bout we split up? Two and two?”

“Well, we all know who you want,” Max says knowingly. It makes your cheeks flame hot and Lando’s flush pink, but Max doesn’t waver in his shit eating grin. For some reason, you find his candid bluntness refreshing, even if it is poking fun at what’s going on (or not going on) between Lando and yourself. “You guys take Maren in your car, I’ll take these two and meet you at your house.”

Max manages to coax Camille and Samira to their feet with little trouble, and before you know it they’re off, leaving you alone with Lando and a very sleepy Maren. He rocks back on his heels, biting the inside of his cheek awkwardly, like he’s not sure what to do.

“Should we—”

“I think—” Lando bites back a laugh, gesturing for you to speak first.

“We should probably get going.”

“Right. Let’s get her in the car then, yeah?”

You couldn’t be less well versed in cars if you tried, but even you know the one Lando came to your rescue in is expensive. You’re almost too reluctant to even sit in it. But then Lando’s hand touches softly against the small of your back as he pulls open the door without hesitation, and you have no choice but to help Maren in.

Not like you had much of a choice anyways, what with him being the knight in shining armor to your damsel in distress call.

“Did you have fun? Before having to play mum to the girls, I mean.” Lando asks a little while later, not taking his eyes off the road.

You blow out a deep breath, sinking back into the plush leather of the passenger seat. The soft smoothness is heaven on your skin. “Kinda. The first few drinks, at least. Felt a little out of place, honestly.”

“What, you didn't charm some guy the same way you charmed me?” Silence fills the car like cement as soon as the words leave his mouth. A pang of something sharp shoots through you, something akin to hurt that flashes through your chest but is gone a second later.

No, you shouldn’t feel hurt. You’re the one who hurt him. Even though he’s told you over and over that it’s okay, it’s fine, he understands your decision, Lando has every right to express his true feelings, no matter how it makes you feel.

“Sorry, that was—that came out wrong. I just meant—”

“I know what you meant,” You say quietly. He wants to know if you met someone else, and the answer is no. No, you didn't meet another guy, because all you could think about was him. But you’re just friends. You’d made certain of it. So why did you feel like you’d done something wrong? “I didn’t meet anyone else.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Is it?”

A muscle in his jaw clenches as he swallows thickly, nodding. “Yeah. I mean, if that’s what you want. What you’re looking for.”

“I don’t think I’m looking for anything right now,” Your voice is soft, nearly a whisper.

I’m not looking for something that isn’t you, you could add. You don’t. It wouldn’t do anything other than hurt him, and yourself, even more.

The rest of the ride home is basically silent, and Max is waiting on the sofa with the other two when you finally get there, entertaining a story that Camille is telling not unlike one would with a child, uh huh-ing and wow, that’s so cool-ing until he realizes you’re finally here.

You take over from then, thank him profusely yet again when he says he’s going to head home, before corralling all three girls into the bathroom like a zookeeper with their animals.

One by one, you help each of your friends through an abridged version of their night routines until they’re all ready for bed, and then you tuck them into the same bed as best you can. You’ve relegated yourself to the floor with a littering of pillows for the night. It’ll be easier to get to them if they need anything during the night if you’re all in the same room.

You’re surprised to see Lando in the doorway once you’ve gotten them all settled in for the night. You thought he'd left with Max, but apparently not.

He glances up as he hears you approach, frowning. “You’re gonna sleep on the floor?”

You shrug. “Yeah, it’s fine. I can keep an eye on them that way. You can, erm, you can go home now. Go back to sleep.”

“No offense, but I’m pretty sure they’ll sleep through the night. Plus, you must be knackered too. You should get some rest, yeah?” You want to say no, but your body’s response betrays you in that moment, because you yawn big, and it makes him chuckle. “Come on. Sleep in your own bed. I’ll watch over them.”

“No way.” You shake your head insistently, despite the enticing offer. “You’ve already done more than enough, Lando, I can’t ask you to stay up all night. I’ve got them covered.”

“You shouldn’t either.” He shoots back, chin tilting up in challenge. You match him as best you can with your eyes growing heavier and heavier by the moment, and eventually, he backs down, hands up in mock surrender. “How ‘bout we take shifts? The living room’s right across the hall, if we camp out there and anyone makes a racket, whoever’s up will be able to hear them.”

You twist your lips to the side in thought. “Deal. I call first watch though.”

“I can live with that. Why don’t you go freshen up, or something?”

“Is that your way of telling me I stink?”

Lando’s eyes glint with mirth, teasing smile curling his lips. “Maybe.”

“Well, maybe you don’t smell too good either!” That’s a total lie. He actually smells really nice, a mixture of remnants of his heady cologne from the day and something fresher, a little citrusy. His soap, maybe?

A hot shower certainly does wonders to sober you up the rest of the way, and as you’re toweling your hair dry enough to where it won’t be dripping water down your shirt, you take a good look at yourself in the fogged up mirror.

This is fine. You can spend a night alone with Lando without feeling anything towards him. You can do this. You’ve done harder things than this.

Lando’s frowning at something on his phone when you make your way back into the living room, scowling like whatever’s on the screen has personally wronged him. It isn’t the first time you've noticed his demeanor turn sour like this, and your concern is piqued each time.

You clear your throat as if to announce your presence, offering him a small smile when his head whips up. “Hi. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s just work.” He tosses his phone on the coffee table, dragging a hand forward through his curls, mussing up the front before raking them back. It doesn’t seem to do anything but make them messier, but you suspect it’s more of a nervous habit than anything.

He smiles back at you as you sit a respectable distance away from him on the sofa, though even that looks entirely forced. Something is wrong, and it’s eating away at him.

“Look, I know things aren't how they used to be with us, but I hope you know I’m still here for you. You can always talk to me if you need to.”

Lando gnaws on his bottom lip, head tilting from side to side like he's unsure. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Friends are there for each other.”

He blows out a deep sigh, sinking back against the pillows like a deflated balloon. “Yeah? You’re sure?”

“I’m a good listener, remember?” You nudge his knee with yours gently. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m all ears.”

He isn’t ready right away. For a little while, you sit in silence. You get the feeling Lando doesn’t have much experience with letting people in very easily, but it's okay. You’ll sit here as long as he needs to get his thoughts together.

Finally he speaks, but even then, his tone holds hesitance.

“I feel like everything is going to shit. The car is great this season, it’s better than it's ever been before, so that’s not the problem. It’s me, I’m the problem, I keep fucking everything up," He sighs, shoulders slumping. "And my team work so hard for me to be able to perform and deliver and I feel like I’m just letting everyone down, y’know? They deserve someone who can give them better than the shit stuff I’ve been putting out these past few races.”

Lando as a person is impossibly hard on himself, you’ve come to learn—always thinks he could’ve done better, even if what he’s already done is enough. The same is true when it comes to his job.

You’d know—you checked. In your uninformed opinion, the results he’s been achieving in the races are great. To be finishing high in the top five out of twenty of the best drivers in the world in almost every single race recently, it’s enough to make anyone proud.

But when you think about it from a competition perspective, a cutthroat drive with everything you’ve got, put everything on the line perspective, you get a sense of why he’s beating himself up.

To know he can win and still fall short, race after race…god, you can’t even imagine how he must be feeling.

You might be clueless still, but at the very basis of it all, you understand. Lando has worked so hard for so many years, put in blood, sweat, and tears, and he feels like he’s not living up to expectations.

You know what it’s like to have such high expectations placed on your shoulders and nearly be crushed by the weight of everyone counting on you. Surely not on a scale as large as his, but you understand the struggle.

Then he goes into the race in Hungary a few weeks back, and you can tell there’s some lingering hurt in him about what happened.

“It’s like they were guilt tripping me or something. Telling me I’ll need the team in the championship fight, that I should do the right thing and give up my position. Call me crazy, but that just didn’t sit right with me at all. They want me to be a team player and that’s fine, I’m happy to, but I dunno…” Lando trails off, nose wrinkling like the words leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

You notice him picking at the skin below his nail and move without thinking, closing the distance between the two of you and redirecting his fiddling fingers by linking them with your own.

It gets him to stop picking, but it also makes him stop talking. Whatever words are about to come out of his mouth die into a drawn out exhale, eyes drawn to your joined hands like a magnet.

“Yeah? Keep going, I’m still listening,” You urge gently, nodding. Lando blinks at you, as if he’s lost his train of thought. “Hungary? The team?”

“Uh…yeah. Right. I was—I guess I just didn’t think they’d pull all that crap over the radio. Like, everyone could hear what they were saying—other teams, the commentators. It was on live broadcast too!” His fingers tighten around yours ever so slightly, dark brows knit with frustration.

Even though you know close to nothing about the sport, what his team pulled seems like a dick move. You understand wanting to put their drivers in the best position possible, but airing things out on a radio where everyone can hear it feels wrong to you. Then again, you have no idea what goes on within a team at this type of performance level.

“It’s like, they knew I’d do what they wanted me to do and I did, but for a moment, I almost didn’t. I almost went against team orders, and that’s…” He laughs humorlessly, shaking his head. “You don’t do that. You can’t. You listen to what your team says and you do it, and that’s the end. My boss has been calling every now and then, trying to get me to talk and shit, and I just don’t really wanna talk about work right now. I don’t even wanna think about it.”

“Oh, Lando…” You sigh. Your thumb rubs circles over the prominent ridges of his knuckles, hoping it brings him some sort of comfort.

“I know I probably sound like such a brat right now, but I’ve given everything I have to McLaren and it still doesn't feel like enough. They want more, and right now…I’m not sure how much more I’ve got in me.”

“Can I be completely and totally honest with you right now?”

“Yeah, please.”

You hesitate, taking a beat to reply. You don’t want him to take your response the wrong way. “I’m not gonna sit and pretend like I have any clue what it’s like to be in your situation, because I don’t. But I do think you’re being too hard on yourself. Yeah, sometimes you might not get the results you’d hoped for, but you’re doing the best you can, and that’s all you need to be doing.”

Lando doesn’t need your advice, and you’re in no place to be giving any in the first place. He just needs someone in his corner, someone who cares about him to tell him that it’s okay to not be perfect. You want to be that person, even though you’re both still trying to settle into this new dynamic with each other.

Thankfully, your words seem to soak in, easing the tension in his shoulders just a little bit. “Thank you. I think I really needed that.”

“Glad I could help,” You say warmly, squeezing his hand.

“Y’know, I just realized that I’ve never said any of that out loud to anyone.”

“Do you feel better?”

Lando chuckles, and somehow, he even seems better. Like whatever was weighing him down was gone. “Yeah, I do. I feel…lighter, actually? Is that weird?”

“Not at all. That’s what letting things out will do for you.”

“Maybe. But maybe it’s more than that, maybe it’s…you.”

Your breath hitches in your chest. “Me?”

“You make me feel like I can be myself around you. Like, the real me, not the me the rest of the world knows me as. I feel genuinely happy around you, and I—I can’t just sit here and ignore it any longer. I still really like you. And I know what you said about us, and I know why, but I can’t help the way I feel around you. The way I feel about you.”

“Lando, I—”

“I swear I’m not trying to change your mind or make you feel guilty, or anything like that! I just had to say it before it made me explode,” He adds, exhaling shakily. “In the spirit of letting things out.”

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t been starting to question whether or not you’d made the right choice by deciding to walk away from Lando, because the more you get to know him, the more it chips away at your resolve. He’s kind and sweet and funny, and he gets you like nobody else has before. It’s been hell these past few days, tiptoeing around each other when all you want to do is kiss him senseless.

Right now, you want to kiss him senseless. He’s right here in front of you, holding your hand, looking at you with those stupid sparkly eyes. You want to say it’s the leftover alcohol buzzing in your veins making you feel this way, but that would be a lie too.

Fuck it.

You cross the already dwindling space between the two of you, sliding a hand around the back of his neck, and kissing him softly. Lando freezes for a split second, but before you know it, he’s kissing you back, guiding you closer until you’re nearly on his lap. His hands roam your back, curling into the material of your shirt, thumbing under it just a tiny bit to stroke at the warm skin there.

It isn’t at all like the first time you kissed. He lets you set the tone, following your slow lead without question.

You’re not sure how long you keep at it—lazy, gentle kisses punctuated with hushed giggles and tiny satisfied noises from the both of you.

Lando takes a pause every so often, pulling back just enough to look at you, take in the sight of you breathless from his doing, and every time, his mouth curls into a squinty, close mouthed smile. You can only bear the fondness in his expression for a few seconds before growing too aware of the way he looks at you and kissing him again.

Your brain doesn’t want to stop, but apparently your body decides you’ve had enough action for a day, because at some point you feel your eyes start to droop, chin following.

As if sensing your exhaustion, Lando pulls away, chest rising and falling heavily. He’s breathless, lips kiss-swollen as they curve into a soft smile. “We should stop. You need to get some sleep.”

“No! We should talk about this. Us.”

“I agree, but I don’t think you’re really in the right headspace to do it right now.”

“I’m fine! I’m okay, I swear.”

“You just nearly fell asleep whilst we were making out.”

“For a second!” You whine, letting your head thunk against his chest. A chuckle vibrates through him. “Don’t laugh at me, I’m tired.”

“Then go to sleep. We’ll talk about it in the morning,” He insists, lips pressed to the crown of your head. You sigh through your nose. You’d argue a little more, but Lando is right again. All you want to do is go to sleep. “I’m not going anywhere, alright? I’ll be here when you wake up, we can figure it out then.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

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#lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 x reader #ln4 #lando norris x you #ln4 x you #lando norris x fem!reader #lando norris fic #lando norris series #ln4 x fem!reader #lando norris imagine #summer's golden haze

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chilisworld55 · 8 months ago

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back home | Carlos Sainz cs55

🌶️ warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), pussy eating, fingering, hickeys

a/n: hey! i hope you like this! please feel free to send me any request, feedback or question or anything! i’m sorry if there is any mistake, i’ll try to improve🫶🏻

It was monday, you had a free day after working over the weekend which has you exhausted so you decided to be in pijamas all day (some shorts and an oversized shirt of your beloved boyfriend). Carlos and you were talking early in the morning, and he wasn’t coming home until wednesday.

You were aware of how demanding your boyfriend’s work is. There’s times in which he is so busy that he couldn’t even come back home in weeks and this was one of those times. He had two race weeks consecutively and unfortunately, you couldn’t go with him due to work.

You were alone at the living room, laid back on the couch while watching a series that you recently found on netflix but after a couple of episodes, your eyes couldn’t take it anymore and were slowly closing by themselves. Next thing, you were sound asleep.

In the middle of the night, you felt a pair of arms lifting you gently on the air, carrying you somewhere else and your eyes were wide open because you recognized who was it. “amor? what are you doing here?” you said as you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend’s neck, face buried against his chest and oh gosh how you missed him, that fresh but sweet scent, his warm touch, pretty much everything about him.

“hola mi amor, sorpresa!” hi my love, surprise! he whispered and planted a kiss on your forehead as he walks towards your shared bedroom. “las cosas que teníamos hasta el miércoles se cancelaron, entonces compré el primer vuelo a casa” the stuff we had scheduled until wednesday got canceled, so i got the first flight home

“i missed you so much… why didn’t you tell me earlier!?” you looked into his eyes as he placed you down on the middle of the bed, parting your legs a little to make room for himself.

“i wanted it to be a little surprise, cariño, and i missed you even more” he lowered himself so his body is on top of yours between your legs, head on your chest and arms wrapped around your waist.

You giggled and shook your head. “we’re not fighting about who misses who more, okay?”

Carlos ignored what you said as he took a moment to admire you and feel you, his hands slowly going under your his shirt, fingertips gently tracing over your soft skin. “te ves tan hermosa usando mi ropa” you look so beautiful wearing my clothes he mumbled and started leaving little kisses on your neck.

You blushed and were so sensitive since you haven’t had anything intimate in weeks so even the slightest touch could make you feel butterflies and who wouldn’t with this man?

“Carlos… aren’t you tired…? you’ve been so busy… ah-” you whimpered as he tugged on the gem of your shorts and let it slap back against your skin. then, he slowly lifted your shirt and his trace of kisses continued over your stomach.

“when it comes to you, i’m never tired” he whispered and you couldn’t help but moan, your legs spreading even more as your boyfriend kneeled on the edge of the bed, his lips now attached to the inside of your thighs.

“i couldn’t stand another day without you” he sucked a certain spot on your inner thigh that had you whimpering. “these weeks have been like torture…” he kissed the other thigh, wanting to give both the same amount of attention and wasted no time in leaving hickeys all over them.

“please… no more waiting… i’m right here, all yours” you pleaded, feeling how soaking wet you are getting under those shorts, throbbing for him already.

“are you desperate for me, cariño?” you nodded and he smirked as he tangled his fingers on the gem of your shorts and pulled them down, soon exposing your wet pussy. His fingers found their way to your cunt, using two of them to part your lips and a third one to collect the wetness and spread it all over. “ya veo que me estabas esperando, eh? sin bragas y toda mojadita” i see that you’ve waiting for me, huh? no underwear and all wet

Carlos licked his fingers and got closer to your pussy, giving a long lick to it, big hands grabbing both of your thighs, making sure to keep them apart, those light brown eyes looking up into your souls as he was eating you like a starved man. You were moaning so loudly, enjoying his tongue and your fingers pulling on your boyfriend’s hair each time his tongue brushed of your clit.

“joder, me vas a volver loco” shit, you’re gonna drive me crazy Carlos’ tongue was fucking your tight hole, his thumb tracing little circles on your sensitive bud, he was moaning against you and it sent little vibrations which made the sensation much better and intense.

“i’m cu- i’m cumming… carlos, por favor, don’t stop” please you moaned.

“córrete, córrete para mi, amor” cum, cum for me, love his lips pulled apart to speak but he was quick enough to push his fingers inside and hit all your sweet spots. Your boyfriend’s fingers could not compare to yours, they are much longer and thicker than your own so at this time, you were in cloud nine.

Your walls clenched so hard around his digits, the knot on your stomach tightened and Carlos kept talking dirty to you with that spanish accent that you love. That was when you came undone, creaming and moaning his name, not even caring if it was 3 am in the morning and the neighbors were sleeping.

“mierda…. espero y no pienses que he terminado contigo, cariño” shit… don’t think i’m done with you he slowly stood up with a clear bulge inside his pants, waiting to be taken care of.

#carlos sainz #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #smut #formula one #formula 1 #scuderia ferrari #carlos sainz f1 #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz jr

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ohsc · 6 months ago

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₊˚⊹♡ in another life | sam winchester x reader

a/n - first time doing a full fic with a pretty layout!!! i got the idea for this fic yesterday and got most of it out tonight i just loved the idea, i kinda hate the ending but i never write endings well so :/ if you like the fic pls pls reblog / tell me what you thought, it helps!! <3

cws - fem!reader, 2.5k words, mentions of nightmares, mentions of memory loss, blood, injury, destiel included, hurt/comfort, angst

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Blood. So much blood. She could feel as it trickled down her arms, warm against her cold skin.

The rope rubbed into her wrists painfully.

A gag in her mouth that made her panic.

She twisted, tried her hardest to get out, but it wouldn’t budge.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, her heart raced in her chest, panic crawled out from inside her ribs, up into her esophagus, out of her mouth until she screamed—

Her eyes snapped open and she jumped, hands splayed out beneath her to quickly shove herself to sit up, thump-thump, thump-thump-

“Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Sam’s voice broke through the panic and her eyes quickly snapped to him, shirtless and sleepy in the bed beside her.

In the bed.

She’d been dreaming.

Her breath shuddered as she inhaled and shifted a little, pressed her back against the headboard behind her as she forced herself to recognise her surroundings; Sam — who grounded her the most out of anything, the same four walls of their bedroom, the same clothes hung over the desk chair, his boots by the door, her books on the dresser. She’d had nightmares for so long — it was only natural given their way of life. She’d developed a way to deal with them over the years.

“Hey,” Sam’s hand was warm as he touched her shoulder, and she looked back up at him, his hair tousled from sleep, eyes ever so soft. Sometimes she didn't think she deserved him. “Are you okay?”

One of her hands moved up and took his, laced their fingers until all of their knuckles were kissing, and only then was it easier for her to breathe. “Yeah,” she sighed, smiled slightly. “M’okay, sorry.”

“No, hey,” Sam frowned a little and shifted closer, his free hand lifted to cup her cheek. “Don’t apologise. Sure you’re okay?”

She nodded, leaned into his palm. His skin was so warm that it felt heavenly. “S’nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

He still looked worried, that little crease between his eyebrows hadn’t left his features, but Sam nodded anyways. He leaned forwards and closed the distance, and the soft press of his lips against hers cured any leftover anxieties from her nightmare.

The kiss transitioned from a soft press to a loving neediness, Sam had one of her lips between his own, his hands splayed on her waist, and like muscle memory she climbed into his lap so she could be closer. His hands were gentle, his breath warm as it fanned out over her face, and when she pulled back to look at him it—

It was nine o’clock.

Her eyes had caught the digital alarm clock beside the bed and her eyes widened a little, a surge of panic within her as her hands slipped from his cheeks to rest on his chest. “Shit, Sammy it’s nine.”

“Yeah?”

She frowned at him. “We should’ve been up ages ago, aren’t we working a case today?”

Sam frowned at her, took a breath, before he murmured softly, “Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart?”

“What?” She just blinked, confused.

“You said we’re going on a case.”

“Yeah?”

Sam’s frown only deepened. “Baby, we haven’t been on a case in months.”

She just stared at him for a moment. Her eyes flickered over his expression, caught no sign that he was trying to mess with her. It was almost like he was serious.

But he couldn’t have been. Just last night they’d been talking about working a case in Indiana, that’s where they were supposed to be heading. They’d been working back-to-back cases for weeks, now. She was exhausted from them.

“What are you talking about?” She shook her head. “Just last night we… we’re going to Indiana today, Sam.”

Sam sat up completely and rubbed his palm over her back. “That dream really messed you up, huh?”

She scowled. “I’m being serious.”

Immediately he softened, apologetic to the core as he stroked her back again. “I know- I know, I’m sorry, sweetheart, it’s just… we really haven’t been on a case in weeks. The only thing we have planned today is going to catch that movie with Dean and Cas, remember?”

They had never gone to see a movie together, not in a proper cinema. Movie nights were slotted in at the bunker whenever they had time. “No, we have a case.”

He looked so concerned she almost felt bad. But she was so confused, they definitely hadn’t so much as stopped hunting for two days, let alone for months. What was he talking about?

“Okay…” Sam nodded slowly, though he clearly didn’t believe her. “Okay. Why don’t we go get you something to drink, okay?” It was clear he still thought it was the nightmare messing with her, and though she knew it wasn’t, she just nodded and let Sam guide the two of them out of bed. There was no point sitting there and arguing about it, he clearly didn’t believe her and she knew he wasn’t right.

She pulled on some pyjama pants whilst Sam tugged on a shirt, and with his hand against her lower back — she could practically feel the worry that vibrated beneath his skin — they walked through the bunker to the kitchen.

Her head was almost spinning. It was just so… strange. If Dean was the one telling her all this she would’ve known he was just messing with her, but Sam? The whole time they’d dated he’d never done something like this, and to be honest, he really wasn’t that good of an actor, anyways.

She didn’t know what was going on, but she knew that she was right.

They walked into the kitchen together, but half a step through the doorway she froze — Dean and Cas were sat at the table together, making out.

“Oh my god!” Her hand covered her mouth as she stood there in shock — because never in a million years had she thought that either of them would confess to each other — and her sounded surprise jolted the two of them out of it, their heads turned to look at her and Sam.

“Really, guys? We all have to eat there.” Sam grumbled as he walked to get a glass to fill with water.

Cas looked apologetic whilst Dean just smirked. “So?”

She was still just stood in the doorway, eyes wide, when Dean finally looked at her.

“What? Were you enjoying the show?”

“I- what? How long has this been a thing?” She blurted out, and Dean just stared at her.

“Huh?”

Sam stepped away from the counter when she’d asked her question, and that frown was back on his face again. “Sweetheart, they’ve been dating for a month,” his words were laced with worry, worry for her. “Are you feeling okay? Why don’t you sit down-”

“What are you talking about?” Her eyes flickered between the three men, and it felt like she was being gaslight. If it wasn’t for the genuine concern in Sam’s eyes, she would’ve thought that was what was happening. “They’ve not been together for a month.”

“A month and four days.” Cas told her.

“No you haven’t!” She was shouting now, because she just- she didn’t understand. It was scaring her.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

“Baby, please sit down.” Sam murmured, tried to guide her to sit, as the other two men stood from the table.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked, his concern matched Sam’s, and she was so close to just ripping her hair out in frustration.

“This,” she gestured between them all. “Whatever this is, you’re all lying, okay? We worked a hunt yesterday, and you two,” she pointed to Dean and Cas who were holding hands, “are not dating!”

Thump-thump, thump-thump, the drumming was in her ears, she felt too worked up.

Castiel let go of Dean’s hand and stepped forwards. “Y/N, have you had a fall recently? Could you have possibly hit your head?”

Immediately she felt angry. “I’m not crazy-”

“I’m not calling you crazy,” Cas immediately assured her, and as she glanced between the three men she hated the way they were all looking at her, like she was some kind of sick dog. “It just seems like you’re presenting symptoms of memory loss, which could be the result of a head injury.”

She blinked, took a few shaky breaths. “I’m fine-”

“Baby, you fell getting out of the shower yesterday,” Sam sounded so pained it made her heart throb. He was so serious, the look in his eyes, she’d seen it hundreds of times before, at the occasion of one of her hundreds of injuries. “I got you painkillers and everything.”

Thump-thump, thump-thump, she felt like her heart was about to burst out of her ribs. Was she really…?

“May I?” Her eyes snapped back to Cas as he stepped forwards, lifted a hand, and she hesitated before she nodded. If anybody was going to squeeze the truth out of the situation, it would be Cas.

He stopped in front of her and lifted up his hands, and with the upmost gentleness he pressed the tips of his fingers against her temples. She watched as his eyes flashed blue, and it felt like her head had been dipped in ice water as his grace wormed through her head. He was so concentrated, lips set in a hard line, eyebrows scrunched downwards. She’d watched him do this so many times to others, but it hadn’t happened all that often to herself.

When Cas pulled back and his eyes were back to their usual shade of blue, he frowned. “It’s memory loss.” He murmured, and it felt like everything had started tipping.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, blood rushed in her ears as she took a shuddering breath, and Sam’s hand caught her elbow before she toppled backwards into the wall.

“Okay okay, easy, sweetheart,” Sam gripped her elbow a little tighter, and guided her over to the bench, sat her down with ease. “It’s okay, it’ll be okay-”

“Memory loss,” the words that came out of her mouth were mortified, she sounded almost scared. “I can’t-”

“Take a moment, take a breather.” Dean chimed in, and when she looked up all three of them were stood over her. If not for the situation it would’ve been a bit funny.

Sam had said they hadn’t been hunting in months, so she’d lost, what, at least three months?

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

“Cas, can you do anything?” Sam had turned to the angel, and she hated how panicked he sounded.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

Castiel took a breath. “It’s not like a physical injury, it’s mental, it’s in her head, I’m not sure I can-”

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump—

Her vision had blacked out a little by the time she tipped forwards and fell off of the bench, folded like wet paper, like she physically couldn’t hold herself up. Through the fuzz in her head, she heard them call her name, felt hands on her arms, on her face. She’d blacked out a few times before, the feeling wasn’t foreign.

When her eyes finally opened again, it was dark.

“Y/N? Hey- hey- Sam she’s awake!” She was just able to make out Dean’s face in the dark.

When most of the fuzz in her head had subsided, the first thing she noticed was that she wasn’t on the floor, she was upright. The second thing she noticed was that her wrists really hurt.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, her heart was racing in her chest, in her ears, she could feel it in her wrists, a horrible throbbing that almost left her disoriented.

Her head tipped back a little unsteady, eyes up, and she quickly realised that her arms were yanked up above her head, rope dug painfully in her wrists which kept them there, her feet weren’t even on the floor.

Her head lulled forwards again, it felt so heavy, she was barely able to keep her eyes open. She tried to speak, but the third thing she realised was that something was in her mouth — a gag.

“Fuck- here, hang on,” Dean reached up and around her head, untied the fabric until he pulled it out of her mouth. “There you go.”

She inhaled shakily, eyelids fluttered. “What…”

“Sweetheart?” Hands cupped her face, and she didn’t need to look to know that this time it was Sam. “Oh god- Dean cut her down, I’ve got her.”

The hands moved to her waist, and after a moment the strain on her arms was snapped and she all but fell into waiting arms. Her body felt so weighed down and sore, she couldn’t protest as she was shifted and guided to rest on the floor.

“Y/N?” Warm hands were back on her cheeks. “Hey, can you look at me? C’mon baby, please-”

With far too much effort her eyelids fluttered again, and Sam was hovered over her, face scrunched in worry.

“Hey, there she is, we’ve got you,” his fingers stroked her cheek. “Are you with me?”

She forced herself to blink a few more times before she finally glanced around the room, and realised that they weren’t in the bunker — in fact, she had no idea where they were. The room was practically falling apart, old and dusty and broken. There was barely any light in the room, but she saw Dean stood over them worriedly, before her eyes flickered back to Sam.

“What… I don’t-” She felt so disoriented, it was scaring her.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he stroked her cheek again before he leaned in, and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Scared the life out of me.” He breathed into her skin.

When he pulled back, she looked down at herself, and the sheer amount of blood that had trickled down her arms made her feel nauseous. What the fuck?

Sam met her eyes, must’ve recognised the confusion, and his worried frown deepened into something more pitiful. “Djinn,” he told her softly. “Must’ve gotten to you when we split up. I’m so sorry, baby, I won’t let that happen again, okay?” Sam brushed his thumb along her cheekbone. “It’s dead. We killed it. You’re okay.”

Djinn. Of course. She’d always wondered what it would be like.

Only when Sam was certain that she was alright to move, both he and Dean helped her up and out of the building. None of them said much as they got to the car, Sam helped her into the backseat as Dean packed up the trunk, and then they were on the road.

Her arms were covered with dried blood, her wrists sore and bloodied, her mind reeling. That was her paradise?

They’d been in silence for a little while when Dean finally asked, “So what did you see?”

Her eyes flickered between the brothers. They were both bloodied and bruised, as was she. The car smelled like leather and gunpowder. Sam was messing with a switchblade in his lap. There a gun on the seat beside her. Nothing about it was peaceful.

She swallowed thickly, eyes shifted to look out of the window, and murmured softly, “We got out.”

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester drabble #sam winchester oneshot #sam winchester fic #sam winchester fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural one shot #spn #spn x reader #spn one shot

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salemlunaa · 2 days ago

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WHY YOU CANT MANIFEST THE STATE OF PURE CONSCIOUSNESS FOR OTHERS

it looks like some people have rocks for brains

@empyrealoasis also has a lovely read on this explaining perfectly: right here, so check that out!!

you ask me why the void pact doesn’t work again, i made an analogy using canvases: “let’s say you’re painting in class with your friend, and you all have big canvases to paint many little pictures. Your paintbrush only works on your canvas, it’s not possible for you to paint on your friend’s canvas or anyone else. You can create a small drawing on your canvas depicting your friend eating an apple, but it’s not on their canvas. You can’t paint that picture on their canvas, And it’s not a reflection of their own experiences or preferences. They have to do it themselves or their canvas will NEVER contain a picture of them eating an apple, the version of your friend that is on your canvas is eating an apple but the version of your friend on their own canvas isn’t. The outcome of your friend having a picture of them eating an apple on their canvas is 0, unless they paint it themselves. It’s not a limiting belief because you can paint ANYTHING you want on YOUR canvas, it just won’t show up on theirs.”

and i will keep on posting this analogy until you get it through your heads

this person has used people manifesting healing for their family as an argument or someone manifesting a little girl to be found after she was deemed missing. What is so hard to understand:

Manifesting healing for a family member or finding a missing person is done through the manifester's own intention and focus. It's about shifting their reality to align with a desired outcome, not about 'entering the void' on someone else's behalf. The outcome influences their perception of reality, but it doesn't involve physically transporting others to or from the void.

Manifestation works within the framework of your own reality. While your manifestations can influence events involving others, they don't 'override' others' free will or autonomy. The void is a personal experience-you can only use it to manifest changes within your perception of reality, not to directly act on someone else's behalf.

These examples are about manifestation, not proof of someone going to the void for someone else. Healing and synchronicities can happen through energy alignment or intention, without requiring someone to physically access the void on behalf of another person.

If it's possible to go to the void for others, why isn't it being used to instantly end all suffering in the world? Doesn't that suggest the void is personal and limited to individual intent?

If you can manifest the void for someone, you can also manifest death for someone right,so won’t you drop dead randomly because someone decided to induce for that? why haven’t any of you reached the void state yet? if someone scripts a war in their desired reality (for…idk angst or something) then why aren’t we in a tragic world war right now? If someone scripts that in their desired reality religion won’t exist, does the religion you practice just cease to exist when they induce? If someone scripts that your country doesn’t exist, do you guys just randomly vanish into thin air? These are the questions they never wanna answer? since we can do anything right?Since what i’m saying is apparently a “limiting belief” Since you can apparently alter someone’s life with the void to the point where they induce, why can’t all this other stuff happen, but we’re the ones cherrypicking…? okay….

And no, we’re not cherrypicking Neville’s teachings; we’re interpreting them with clarity and context. Neville emphasized the power of imagination and individual consciousness in shaping reality. While he taught that we can manifest outcomes that involve others, he never suggested we could directly control or override someone else’s consciousness by ‘entering the void’ for them. The void state is a deeply personal experience, and using Neville’s work to justify claims that contradict the foundational principles of manifestation—such as personal autonomy and responsibility—is a misinterpretation, not selective understanding.

And the big question everyone wants to know, where are these success stories, and i’m not talking about someone manifesting a relationship for their bestie or someone manifesting money for their father, i mean void state success stories. Since the void is as easy as breathing, where is the evidence that the 100+ of you in this pact have induced pure consciousness? we’re all waiting for the influx of successes

With this deranged ideology and the way you’ve been speaking to people in dms, i’m starting to come to the belief that you don’t even believe in this “pact” yourself, you’re preying on people who are desperate and you’re using them to bring drama into the community. If you actually believed this you would use this energy to supposedly reach the void state for all your little friends, i mean since you’re the main preacher?

No one is trying to be mean when we say that if you believe that SOMEONE ELSE is going to do this for you, you don’t understand the state of pure consciousness and how easy it actually is, if you believe that someone people are more capable than others (which you are affirming btw) you don’t understand what this actually is, and without understanding nothing can be done.

And from now my account will ONLY be for people who are willing to do anything it takes to get their dream lives this year. The only possible way to do this is by yourself and i’m ready to interact with my people who believe and are ready to do what it takes. Call me mean, i. don’t. care. i’m trying to help you and stop you from wasting your time.

Keep your cult away from people who actually want something out of this year

These people will still be here asking and bullying people into believing, don’t make yourself one of them.

i’m going to take my own advice and focus on people who deserve it. it’s 2025 enough of this drama farming

𓇼 ˚∘ therefore we can’t alter ANOTHER persons life due to our own “I AM” intentions, and we never will

@void1finder here’s your answer, again, weirdo

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blueicequeen19 · 10 months ago

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The Nanny

Warnings: Rafe cheating on his wife with the nanny 🔥

I’d been a nanny for the Cameron’s since their oldest was a baby. They moved me into the guest house, paid for my college, and paid me more than I ever dreamed. I was extremely grateful for the opportunity even when I’d catch Mr Cameron staring at me for long periods of time.

I won’t lie by saying I didn’t enjoy the attention and living in OBX gave me the perfect opportunity to run around in bikini or crop tops or dresses. I’d feel his eyes on my skin like a warm caress, making me burn hotter and hotter until I had no choice but to leave the room.

I made sure to never catch myself in a room alone with him out of fear of what he’d do. What I’d let him do.

I wasn’t worried about his wife because more often than not, I’d spot a blonde, shaggy haired Pogue slipping out the back door on weekends that Mr Cameron was working despite her being pregnant with his fourth child. I wasn’t sure if Mr Cameron was entirely faithful either.

They fought so much that I was constantly trying to keep their children busy. Then when I’d check to make sure it was safe to come back inside, I’d find Mr Cameron taking his wife against the counter or on top of the kitchen table. On the stairs. In the middle of the floor.

She was always facing away from him and he’d always lock eyes with me while he pounded into her. Id ache between my thighs for days. No amount of touching myself would help. I’d seen his thick cock countless times in five years and I craved it. Something had to be wrong with me. I couldn’t risk losing everything.

I was deep in thought as I made my way back to the pool house where I lived that I didn’t even notice the door being unlocked as I stepped inside or the spicy scent of expensive cologne until it was too late.

“Mr Cameron.” I breathed, a lump forming in my throat as I watched him turn the side lamp on.

“It’s been five years, Y/N, I think we’re past the formalities.” His lips tip up into an arrogant smirk, “Plus you’ve seen my cock on more than one occasion so please, call me Rafe.” I couldn’t speak as his eyes raked over me, making me clench my thighs.

“W-what can I do for you?” I breathe. His wife and kids were asleep not far from here, just across the yard. He couldn’t be here. What if she came looking for him? Why was it suddenly so hot in here?

“I want you to fuck me. Whenever I want. However I want.” Mr Cameron said with confidence, lighting my blood on fire as my eyes widen.

“Your wife— your kids—what—.”

He suddenly stands, crossing the room quicker than I can back away.

“My wife is fucking a Pogue in my bed when I’m not here. I’m pretty sure one or two of my children aren’t even mine.” I gasp as my back hits the wall and his large hand finds the back of my neck. Our bodies are suddenly flush and I can’t breathe.

“Mr Cameron—.”

“It’s Rafe or sir, Y/N. Mr Cameron is my father and I won’t have you reminding me of him when I’m inside you.” Heat pools in my belly and I can’t stop from whimpering.

“I know you feel me watching you. I know you want me as much as I want you. It’s written all over your face.” His thumb swipes over my bottom lip, prying it free from my teeth.

“If your wife finds out I could lose everything.” I whisper, my hands fisted at my sides.

“You work for me. You belong to me.” My heart races in my chest, his possessiveness making my knees weak.

“You’ll take care of my kids during the day and you’ll take care of me at night. I’ll double your salary and fuck you so hard you’ll see stars. Do we understand each other?” I find myself nodding before I can fully grasp what he’s saying.

“Good. Show me to your room.” I blink a few times before realizing he’s stepped away from me, letting me pass. I can’t take in a full breath as I lead him up the stairs and to my bedroom. My knees are weak and when he locks the door behind him, they nearly give out.

“Face me.”

I do.

“Strip.”

I do that too.

I’m so wet between my thighs that they’re practically stuck together. I’d never been more turned on in my life. A stiff wind could make me cum right now. The ache only intensifies as he devours me with his eyes as he strips off his clothes, draping them over the chair before making his way towards me.

“This first time is going to be quick.” He pushes me down on the bed, the heat of his body making me gasp as he kneels between my legs.

“I’m so hard that it hurts.” He shoves my legs wider apart before taking the thick head of his cock and running it along my slit.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Making a fucking mess for me, baby.” He groans. I whimper, unable to form words as we both watch his movements.

“Next time I’m going to take my time with you and savor this.” The head slips in and I gasp, my nails biting into his biceps.

“I just can’t control myself right now. I need you too badly.” When he pushes in further, a deep sexy groan escapes him and I clench around the head, making him hiss between his teeth as he comes down on top of me. We’re both shaking as he sinks deeper and deeper until I’m so full that it hurts.

“Fuck, you feel good. Fucking made for me.” I resist the urge to kiss him as we come chest to chest and he rolls his hips, stealing another moan from me.

“So hold on. Because this time I’m going to fuck you within an inch of your life.”

#smutwarning #outer banks smut #obx2 #rafe outer banks #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron x smut #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe obx #rafe smut #outer banks fanfiction #blueicequeen19

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writingsbychlo · 1 year ago

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LAST TIME | tom riddle

summary; things just aren’t right between you and tom. when you suggest a break up, however, tom is ready do anything to make it work.

word count; 4153

notes; honestly pure smut. I say tom is willing to do anything but what tom does is just give some really good orgasms. and somehow, it’s still better than 90% of men out there, so.

“You… want to break up?” The clock in the room seemed to tick louder than ever, the seconds dragging on longer and longer as Tom stared at you in disbelief. There was a bottle open between you, two glasses of whiskey poured but neither of them touched, as he stared in shock. “Why?”

“Because this isn’t working, Tom.”

He picked up his glass now, taking a heavy gulp from it, his brows furrowing as his throat bobbed, until only the empty Crystal was back on the table. He filled it up again.

“Tom—”

“Just let me think for a second.” You sighed, his gaze flickering over to you, and he softened for just a moment. “I’m trying to work out what to say.”

“There is nothing to say—”

“There has to be!” He slammed an open palm down on the wood, the table rattling and your drink shaking in its glass, his mumbled apology belaying his regret as he glared. At you, at the wall, at the clock still loudly tickling the seconds by. “Why?”

“Because this isn’t—”

“Don’t say this isn’t working. It works perfectly for me, so if it’s not working for you, tell me why. Tell me what I did, what I can do.” You reached for your own glass now, sliding it across the table and taking down the contents in one. Pushing the empty glass toward him with one finger as your throat burned, he filled it up, cupping your hand and pressing the glass into the other. “We fight all the time, I get that. But you love the fight, I know you do. But you’ve never—you yell, I shout, we fuck it out and we’re fine. This isn’t right, you don’t sit here calmly and tell me you want to break up, so tell me what to do.”

“I can’t tell you, Tom. I don’t know. I just know I can’t do this anymore.”

“But why?”

Exasperation burned through your veins, the words ‘It’s not working’ sitting on the tip of your tongue, and you had to bite it to stop them from coming free.

“I want to work through it. I want you to tell me every goddamn little thing that’s wrong. We’re not leaving this room until it’s right, do you understand me?” His fingers curled on the tabletop, a fist forming, nails no doubt digging into his palms, and you sighed. He may be making it sound like demands, but you both knew it was a question, a desperate plea not to give up on him. The kind of desperation you’d never heard from him before, and it was the only thing that made you stay. “Please.”

“I’ll stay, Tom. I’ll talk, but I make no promises, because I just don’t see this working out.”

“I’ll make it work.” There was so much conviction in his tone that you almost found yourself believing it. “First issue.”

“Tom—”

“First issue.” He insisted, and you ran a hand down your face.

“Okay, fine.”

And just like that, the night melted away. Hours slipped by in a blur of petty arguments, Tom’s eyes boring into your own as he fought and conceded, edging closer and closer to you throughout the night.

You resisted for only so long, the first drink gave you the confidence to tell him that you needed more. His cold attention wasn’t enough, you needed love and passion, you needed his vulnerability and his emotions, you needed his trust and his confidence to take down those walls.

The second drink gave you to confidence to yell, shouting about the kisses he denied you in public, the affections you dreamed of that he never delivered, the activities he got up to that he’d never tell you about. The friends he kept a secret. The times he’d disappear from you for days only to reappear with no word, yet demand to be a part of every single aspect of your life.

The third brought you closer, barely resisting his advances as you fought tears, fought anger, fought every overwhelming emotion that was almost spilling out.

The fourth brought peace. The fourth brought silence, whispered promises you were inclined to believe, as he all but crawled and knelt. He begged for forgiveness, a sight never before seen for Tom Riddle, when your stubbornness reared a new, alcohol-filled strength, urging you towards the door to leave him behind.

The fifth brought solace and warmth. The fifth brought the end of the argument.

The firewhiskey was almost gone, a comfort flooding through both of your bodies enough to loosen your lips beyond the hesitation you both held, and you knew if you drank anymore, all progress would be lost. Swiping up the bottle from the table and putting the stopper back in, you took it towards the shelf, feeling Tom’s eyes track your every movement through his dorm.

You placed it back within the cabinet, its rightful place between the other vintage bottles, displayed proudly like it wasn’t contraband to be hidden, his arrogance never more prominent. For some reason, you loved that. It had always been one of the things that had attracted you to him, his intelligence, his confidence, his sexy self-assuredness, but it just wasn’t enough anymore.

As you slowly walked back toward your seat, Tom’s calloused hand wrapped around your wrist, bringing you to a halt by his chair. Another soft tug, and he was bringing you down across his lap, arm snaking around your waist to hold you close to his chest.

“Tom…”

“Babydoll…” His whisper was lost to the air between you, a space that was closing as he leaned in. Slowly, slowly, giving you time to pull away, but you couldn't. Everything about him was your weakness, you’d never been able to leave him, not since the day you met him all those years ago, and you’d never be able to leave him now. “Let me back in. Love me again.”

“I do still love you, Tommy.”

“Then let it be enough. Trust that I’ll do whatever it takes.” His lips met your cheek, suddenly, firmly, over far too quickly as he rested his head on your own. “I know I’m hard to love, but if you do love me too, then please trust me.”

Another kiss, your hand cupping his jaw, a whimper slipping free as he pulled back again.

“Have some faith in me.”

Another kiss.

“Don’t leave me.”

“Kiss me, Tommy.” You sighed, tugging him forward and crashing your lips against his. He didn’t hold back, mouth slanting with your own as he sat up in the chair, holding you tighter to his body. His mouth was insistent, forceful and commanding just like every other part of him, lips coaxing your own apart until you were panting softly into his mouth, his tongue slipping through to tease your own.

He tasted of whiskey, faint traces of coffee and sugar, a heady mix that you were drowning in. His hands traced slowly across your body, dragging and gripping, tracing like he was trying to memorise you, in case it was the last time he ever got the chance.

You wanted more, you needed more, hands in his hair, messing up all those pretty curls and tugging him closer as you tried to twist in his lap. Unsuccessful, your legs still dangling over one of his as you sat sideways, a whine slipping free. To get more you’d have to stand, your hand raking seductively down his chest, nails scratching through the fabric of his shirt. You stood, or tried to, barely making it onto shaking feet before he was nipping at your lip with a cut-off grunt and tugging you right back into his body.

In one swift moment he was standing, cradling you sideways in his arms and carrying you across the room. A second later, you were lay on the bed, head pillowed by the quilts as he finally pulled back.

Those hands kept exploring, knees bracketing your body as he pushed your shirt up, up, up. He kissed at every newly exposed patch of skin, all across your stomach and over your breasts, reverent and tender, tongue swiping across your skin until you shivered, lips promising his love into your flesh. Until, you were sat up, slipping the top over your arms and letting him cast it away to the floor, his mouth working across your jaw, head tipped back to let him.

Your own hands went to his back, scratching down until you caught the hem, far less care and far more desperation as you yanked and tugged, pulling at the shirt until he was reaching behind his head to help you strip him of it, your fingertips falling back to the bare skin of his chest. Firm, warm muscles twitched under your touch, your back hitting the bed again as his mouth collided with your own, backed into the sheets and surrounded by every inch of him, his presence filling the room, filling the air you breathed.

“Tom…”

His grip shifted, one hand leaving the bedding to skim across your hip, under your body to the flat of your back, and lower. Cupping your arse he lifted your hips, just enough to slot himself between, and oh, delicious pleasure as his hips rocked into your own. Straining through the thick denim of his jeans, Tom pressed his hard cock into you, dragging every torturously clothed inch over your damp centre, ruined panties catching on the material and twisting, making it all the more thrilling.

He did it again, and again, your bodies rolling together, clothes the only barrier keeping you apart as his mouth claimed your own. Moans and whimpers bounced off of every wall, each deep, grunted sound he let out was like a high, ricocheting along your body and making your head spin.

“Fucking hell, babydoll,” His words were choked out, foreheads slick where they pressed together, panting breaths washing over your cheeks as he kept you moving against him, even as you became weak, even as the pleasure made you tremble, nearing that precipice already. “You’d walk away from this? Don’t you feel the way I do? You’re in my blood like a goddamn drug.”

Then, it was all ripped away, a pathetic wail falling from you as hot pleasure became cold disappointment, your hips dropped back to the bed. One of your shaking hands was cupped in his own as he pulled away, enough to sit up, kneeling between your spread thighs and dragging your hand to his chest.

Under solid muscle, his heart pounded, fast and irregular, beating like a drum. “For you, alright? This beats for you, and you alone.”

Like a knife through the tension, the haze was severed, a refreshing touch of cold on your sex-addled mind. Climbing up, into his lap as his hands gripped your hips, your own reached for his face, tugging him into the most tender and loving kiss you could muster in the heat of the moment.

His tongue slides over your own, your nails rake down his chest as you settle into his lap where he kneels, both of his hands kneading your ass. He shudders, your fingers grazing along the defined lines of his abs, and his breathing starts to shallow as your fingers press along the bulge in his jeans.

Bucking up, his lips stop working your own, letting you take control of the kiss as his strength starts to wane, your teasing touches along his cock making him squirm underneath you. Squeezing him through the denim, he moans into your mouth, loud and unashamed, and your smirk makes him bite at your lower lip until you gasp.

“I’m— fuck, I’m really trying to be romantic here, to make love to you, take it slow. You’re making that real fuckin’ hard for me.”

“I can feel how hard I’m making it for you, Tommy.”

It was unfair, perhaps, to taunt him so much when he was only doing what you’d asked, to show his affection rather than just assume you knew, to love you properly, but that's not what you wanted right now. Right now, as you’d stared him in the eye and faced the possibility of losing him, you just wanted him, in his rawest form.

“Tom, baby—”

“Stop teasing me.” He all but growled the words, hips rolling into your palm now as you squeezed with rhythm, one of his hands slipping beneath the layers of your clothes, sliding over your ass from behind until one fingertip circled your dripping entrance. “Stop teasing me, or you won’t come for hours, do you hear me? I’ll make you cry and beg and scream, I’ll drive you to the edge of your goddamn sanity the way you make me, and maybe I won’t even let you come then.”

With those final words, he plunged a single digit inside of you, your back arching against his chest as he hummed, lips tearing apart as your body bowed to his. Pumping slowly, he left peppered kisses along your exposed collarbones, his other hand trailing teasingly up your spine, undoing the clasp of your bra with a flick of his fingers.

Jerking it free from your body shakily, he let out a primal noise as you threw it away, lips wrapping around one nipple, teeth tugging the taut bud.

“Oh, fuck, Tommy…”

“That’s right, doll. Moan my fucking name.” He did it again, a second finger slipping inside of you, chasing out every sentient thought you had.

Your fingers were shaking as you reached for his jeans, tugging at the button and zipper until you could get them down. Finally, you pulled him free from the confines, and relished in the sound he made against your skin as you swept your thumb over the dripping head of his cock.

Sitting there, half in his lap as he finally brought you closer and closer to your ruined orgasm, you pumped his cock slowly, nuzzling your nose against his own, feeling the beat of his heart against your hand on his neck. Steady, thumping, a beat just for you as he promised.

His skin was wet under your touch, hot and soft and slick, your fist sliding over him, twisting just how you knew he liked. He may know your body like the back of his own hand, but you knew him too. You knew every trick that made him weak, every touch and spot that you could exploit to bring him to his knees before you, if you so wished. Tom Riddle may scare everyone away, may put on his façade to the world, but he was your lover, your heart and soul, and he bared himself to you alone in this vulnerability.

Tracing your thumb over the head, you squeezed his cock, another bead of precum, dribbling from the slit and lubricating his skin under your palm. His mouth left your skin, head tilted back. Those pretty brown curls were already plastered to his forehead, sex and love hanging heavy in the hot air, and when your eyes locked with his half-lidded ones, you knew you weren’t going anywhere.

Like a silent oath, one he could read in your gaze, he knew it too. It would never be so easy to leave, to walk away from him, from this. Things may need to change, but you’d work through them together, because you couldn't just leave him.

Your lips slammed together once more, passion and promise, sealed between your mouths as he moaned your name against your tongue.

It was just like that, with his body swearing his dedication into your flesh with every touch that you came, crying his name as you unravelled around his fingers, letting him whisper and coax you through it. Your body was shaking in his, leaning into him for support, his lips at your temple.

“Was that good, doll?”

“So good, Tommy.” Your breathless bliss was short-lived, before you could process it, he was pushing you backwards one hand on your chest firmly pressing you into the sheets, and a smirk on his lips as he looked down at you.

“Good, it’s only getting better from here.”

His movements showed no gentleness as he tore at the rest of your clothing, your body half dragged down the bed as he stripped you bare. Heat roared through your veins and a blush coated your cheeks, the same way it always did when he manhandled you in such ways. He stripped off his own clothes, nearly tearing the fabric from his body until he was as gloriously naked as you were, every inch of pale, scarred, perfect flesh exposed to you.

His grip on your thighs was bruising as he pressed them apart, hardly giving your foggy mind a moment to process, giving your body no chance to truly settle, before he was on his stomach before you, tongue swiping up the evidence of the orgasm he’d just wrung from you in his lap.

You jolted, one hand flying to his hair as the other gripped the sheets in your fingertips, a scream on your lips as he lapped the flat of his tongue across your sensitive clit. “Tom, oh, fuck!”

He moaned in response, the feeling buzzing across your skin as your hips ground up against his face, every part of your scrabbling for purchase as you sank into the pleasure of it. He went again and again, fingers gripping your thighs, holding them parted for him, before finally, he sucked your clit between his lips, and you sobbed out an attempt at his name.

“Tom, fuck, fuck— I can’t—”

“Oh, let’s not lie, doll.” He pulled back, a sharp smack across your clit, a skittering pain that made you clench around nothing, so hard you swore you’d cramp, “We both know you can, and you will. You’ll come all night if I decide it. Now, be a good girl.”

“You’ll be the death of me, Tom Riddle.” Your words were stuttered out between heavy, panted breaths, and he chuckled as he resumed his work. The dark declarations of adoration were always something he had loved, especially when he had you on his tongue, driving you mad.

Over and over he worked, kissing, licking, sucking, biting, until your eyes were rolled back in your head, writhing in the sheets, dripping just for him to lap it up, his name like a mantra, all you could think of. Your climax teetered on the brink, your hips rolled up unto his face, chasing with such wanton need that all shame went out of the window and your fingers twisted where they were buried in his dark hair.

“Tom, I’m—”

“Gonna’ come? You there already, doll?” You would feel embarrassed for his taunts if you weren’t so needy, like a bitch in heat, and you just nodded. A whine slipped free as he pulled back, tears in your eyes threatening to come free as you were denied once again. The bed dipped, and before you could curse, before you could hate him for taking it all away again, his thick cock parted your folds, slamming into you in one quick thrust, and you exploded.

His hips rocked, ever so gently, dragging out your orgasm until the flutters of it faded, leaving only blissful peace in its wake. Your hands hooked under his arms as he fisted the bedding on either side of your head, kisses left on your collarbones until your body finally calmed down, and he let his mouth trail up to your own, lips brushing.

“You belong to me, do you understand that? Just like I belong to you.” His body shifted, hips rolling back, until he was barely inside of you anymore, only for a single, deep thrust to have you crying his name, digging your nails into his flesh, praying for anything. “I’m all yours.”

Another thrust, another cry, scratches down his back that made him hiss in excitement.

“I don’t care how I prove it to you, I’ll carve your name into my goddamn skin if I must, whatever it takes for you to see it.”

He kept it up, the deep pace, the meaningful words, all whispered into your ear as he sucked bruises into your skin, marking you as his the way he promised he’d mark himself too. Your love with him was brutal, it was harsh and sometimes cold, but nobody loved hotter than Tom did either.

If you asked him to, there’s no line he wouldn't cross, nothing he wouldn't do for you, and his dedication showed. It showed in the way he fucked you, holding your gaze and stopping until you looked back to him, fighting the roll of your eyes to the back of your head, or the shaking of your body so hard you could barely breathe. It showed in the hand that slipped up your skin, fingers sealing around your throat as he began to lose control, fucking without sense as he chased his own high, your core squeezing around him so tight he could barely spit out his curses and praise before losing to the end too.

It showed in the way he hugged your body to his, skin to skin, everywhere you touched as his release filled you, dripping and escaping around his cock as he fucked the both of you through the final moments of shared ecstasy.

It showed in the way he collapsed down on top of you, all walls gone in these few moments, shaking as much as you were as his body smothered your own. Your hand in his damp hair, the other stroking up and down his back as he continued to whisper mindless adoration and poetic love in your skin, kisses and touches that made you understand his devoted worship.

“Tommy…”

“Right here, doll. M’right here with you, I’m all yours.”

He lifted himself at last, balanced on one weak elbow to look at you, smiling in that way only you ever saw as you tentatively brushed plastered curls away from his forehead. He leaned in, a peck left to your lips before he pulled out, wincing apologetically at the grumble that left your lips as he did.

“Let me get something to clean you up, alright? I’ll be back.”

You knew he would, he always was, and only moments later, he was reappearing from the bathroom with a cold cloth, parting your thighs much more gently now, and wiping your sensitive skin clean. “We forgot protection.” You mumbled, one hand coming up to rub across your forehead, too tired to care much now but a problem for the morning.

A problem he didn’t seem to appreciate, only smirking as he cleaned himself off, before pushing one hand over your stomach. “Maybe I should knock you up, I’d like to see you leave me then.”

“Tom!” His joke was not well received, even if his raspy laugh at your chastisement warmed your heart, your arm thrown over your eyes to block him out, to relish in peaceful darkness. The dirty cloth hit the floor somewhere with a squelch, another problem for the morning, as he tugged the covers out from under your body, collapsing down beside you a moment later and tugging them up over you both.

Then, he was peeling your arm from your face, rolling your head to the side to look at him. Gone was the smile, gone was the laughter, a serious look on his face as he studied you carefully.

Tom shuffled a little closer, delicately brushing hair from your brow before settling a hand along the curve of your waist.

“I like it when your cheeks get all rosy after. You look so pretty when you're glowing, just for me.” Your scoff was cut short by his lips, tugging you in until your naked body was pressed back up to his own, that palm scraping over your soft skin to hook your thigh up over his hip, and your arm lay over his shoulders lazily. “Something is telling me this isn’t over. Tell me I’m right?”

“I love—.”

“Tell me you’re staying.” He knew you too well, his grip around your waist tightening holding you to him like he feared you’d slip away. “Don’t tell me you love me unless you plan to keep doing it.”

His gaze pierced into your own, face still like stone but worry painted in his eyes, and you nuzzled your nose against his own. He bumped back, once, insistently. “I love you, Tom.”

He sighed, heavy and happy and bumped your noses together once again. A small smile pulled on his lips, and he nodded slightly as his eyes fluttered closed. “I love you too.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, though. I’ll still make you work for it.”

“I’d expect nothing less from a future Riddle woman.”

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