#we’ve all got light and dark and always will

[phosph-ate]

Tether

Dr. Phosphorus x GN!Reader

Rick is sent to collect someone from inside of seemingly haunted woods. He realizes he's bit off more than he can chew a little too late.

CW: violence, gun violence, swearing, canon divergence, no use of y/n

Word Count: 2k

A/N: they/them used for reader!! this veers away from the show. it is not set in it. it's just an idea i had and i want to run with it. it probably won't be too many parts/chapters. also, there is an oc in here, she is important to the story. just in case you have feelings about ocs! reader's abilities will be touched on more thoroughly next chapter! divider made by cafekitsune

The woods were considered haunted. They had not always been that way. In fact, they used to be beautiful and lively. But now, a heavy fog and dark shadows shroud them. Not a peep could be heard from inside once in them.

“This can’t be normal.”

“No, Phosphorus,” Rick sighed, “it fucking can’t be normal.”

Bride, Nina, and Weasel stood a little behind Phosphorus, who was directly behind Rick. After what seemed like an hour of trekking through the heavily wooded area, they stumbled upon a cabin.

“This is it.” Nina chimed in from behind them. “This is what the hunter described.”

“You all wait back here,” Rick begins to walk towards the cabin. “I’ll handle this for now.”

Phosphorus groaned but stayed put. The only one seemingly not antsy was Weasel. He stood there, patiently. Or as patiently as he could.

Rick walked onto the porch. He immediately noticed spots of blood scattered on it. The wood creaked loudly; it was very noticeable considering how silent the area had been. Before he could even knock the door was swung open. Someone who could not be older than sixteen stood in front of Rick. She was chewing, no smacking, some gum.

“Who the fuck are you?” The teenager looked Rick up and down, staring at him with distaste.

“I was about to ask you the same question.”

The girl peeked over Rick’s shoulder and noticed the group a little way from the porch. She rolled her eyes. “Well,” She stepped to the side. “I guess you can come in.”

“Huh?” Phosphorus was loud and confused. “You’re going to let some monsters into your home.”

“Not my home.” She shrugged. “Anyway, we’ve been expecting you.”

“We?” Bride asked. “Where is the owner?”

“Resting.” The girl seemed too calm. Rick hummed a response. The girl walked back to the couch and picked up a controller and continued playing some old game. “Any of you want to play with me?” She motioned to another controller. “We’ve got plenty of games! Diddy Kong Racing, Mario 64, and Donkey Kong!” She was excited to share. “I’m positive I’d kick all of your asses simultaneously at any of the games… But I’m not going to stop you from playing.”

Phosphorus looked down the hall. His head cocked to the side. “Where is the owner?” He sounded more assertive than Bride had earlier. “There is no way some kid is living out in these creepy woods by herself.”

“I said they’re resting.” The teenager snapped. “Now get your ass back in here. They don’t like people pokin’ around. I’d hate to see what would happen if they came out to you looking through their home.”

Phosphorus walked towards the steps and huffed. “We need to see them. Who are they? More importantly, who are you?” The doctor turned his head towards the girl.

“I’m Oli.” She gave her name quickly. “And I thought you knew who they were.” Oli mimicked Phosphorus’ huff. “Why else would you be here?”

“We’re here because people have been going missing in these woods. One man got away and was heavily traumatized.”

Oli went pale. “Not people.” She was short. She turned back to her game. She began to play again, and Phosphorus groaned.

“Look, kid!” He shouted. He started to walk towards Oli, and she froze. She went pale. A scream ripped from her throat, and she began to wail for something. For someone. A name Rick was not familiar with ripped through the air, straight from Oli’s lungs.

The house began to shift. The floor creaked and the lights flickered. The TV shut off and Oli fell off the couch and hit the floor, covering her face, still screaming.

“I’m not-” Phosphorus had no time to defend himself.

The wall behind the TV, closest to Oli, became covered in shadows. A black ooze dripped from the center of the wall. A loud crack, the crack of bones, came from the other side of the wall. Wind whipped outside and suddenly birds could be heard all around. The silence had been broken in the worst way possible.

Fingers creeped out from the wall, and then a hand was visible. It grabbed the wall, pulling whoever it belonged to out from the shadows. Bones continued to crack as whatever the fuck was coming from the shadows made its way into reality.

“What the fuck!?” Phosphorus screamed.

A distorted yell came from the person and once they dragged themselves from the shadows, they stood over Oli, protecting her. Their eyes were pitch black, no sclera, and their body cracked as they stood up straight.

“That must be the owner.” Nina said, eyes wide and full of shock.

You had been trying your best to replenish your energy. To recover from the earlier visit. But when you felt Oli’s fear and heard her screaming you could no longer rest. You pulled yourself together long enough to crawl out from your hiding spot.

When you stood over her fearful form and looked up to see the exact people she said would be paying you a visit you groaned.

“Oli,” Your voice was distorted. You peeked down at her before looking back around the room, assessing the situation. “You’re okay.” Your voice slowly returned to something more normal. “Aren’t these the people who you said were coming?”

“Yes.” She sat up and looked up at you with a smile. “They wanted to meet you!” She grinned, proud of herself.

“Excuse me?” You scoffed at her, “You just did all of that for me to come out? You couldn’t just say ‘Hey! The people from the fucking prophecy are here!’ That would be just as effective, Olympia.”

Oli stood up. “Do not call me Olympia.” She gave you a nasty look. “You are not my-” She paused. She took in a deep breath and looked at the TV. “Anyway,” She turned it back on, “I gotta restart my game now. Because you turned the TV off when you showed up.” Her voice was low. “Go take care of whatever the fuck they need you for.”

You narrowed your eyes at Oli and turned back to the group of people in your home. “Sorry about, uh, earlier,” You gave them a nervous smile. Your eyes had returned to their normal color, “unless of course you came to kill me. Then I’m not sorry and you will not be leaving this property-”

“We are not here to kill you. My name is Rick, and we are investigating the missing people-”

You interrupted him. “Missing? They’re where they belong. Those men were fucking evil.” You rolled your eyes. “I try to keep this place unreachable. And yet, some people just cannot help themselves.” You glanced towards Oli. “Look, I’ll let you all go. I’ll make a path for you. It’ll be safe. I’ll even let a little sun come in, but I’m not going anywhere. We aren’t going anywhere.”

Rick ran a hand through his hair. “That hunter that escaped, was he…-”

“Oh!” You waved a hand around, “He was just a hunter. Happened to see a little too much, but he seemed like a nice enough guy.” You walked towards your front door and opened it. “I hate that I didn’t get to know all of your names, but… goodbye!” You smiled widely at them and motioned for them to leave.

“No.” Rick stood his ground. “What the fuck are you two doing out here? You just have this kid out in the middle of nowhere, where are her parents?”

“Dead.” Oli looked back from the TV and at Rick. “My family is fucking dead.” She paused her game and stood up. “Did Waller not tell you that? Or did she not know?” Oli snapped. She walked past you and straight towards Rick.

“Who’s Waller?” You asked, while quickly placing yourself in the middle of her and Rick. “What are you not telling me, Oli?”

Rick looked down at Oli with the amount of confusion you seemed to be in. “We were not aware you were here. We were told to bring them,” he pointed to you, “in. That is the extent of our knowledge.”

Oli’s nails were digging into her palms. Something in her seemed to snap. “You are not doing that!” She snarled at Rick. You tried to calm her. “That is not- I didn’t see that! You’re supposed to help us!” She had tears in her eyes.

“Olympia!” You grabbed her face. “What are you talking about?”

Her eyes glazed over, and her knees buckled. You were quick to grab her and hold her up and keep her from hitting the floor.

“What is happening?”

You looked up to see the obviously irradiated skeleton speaking. “She- She’s-” You did not get to finish your sentence. Oli sucked in air harshly, and her eyes widened. She looked at you in fear. You felt every ounce of her fear. Your stomach flipped.

“Oli,” your voice was soft, “What did you see?”

“Me-” She sucked down a sob, tears filling her eyes. “Dead.”

You sat at the kitchen table with Oli. You had insisted your visitors leave, she insisted on them staying. Because of that, you had learned who each of them was. Bride, Dr. Phosphorus, Nina, and your personal favorite: Weasel.

You grabbed water for Oli and sat down beside her. “It could be nothing.” You tried to reassure her, keep her calm.

“My visions are never ‘nothing’.” Oli sipped on her water. She sighed and looked past you and at the group of people in your home. “I haven’t been telling you everything…” She shut her eyes tight and gripped the glass in her hand. “The people who are coming to these woods, they aren’t coming for me. They’re coming for you.” She looked at you with a scared look.

“Well,” Dr. Phosphorus clapped his hands together and began to walk towards you, “we’d better get you out of here then!”

“I can’t leave her!” You snapped at him.

At the same time, Oli whispered “I can’t leave them.” She sounded defeated.

“Why?” Nina cocked her head. “Do you not have anyone else?”

You were growing frustrated. “No!” You pulled Oli into your arms and stood over her as she sat at the table. “Her family is gone! She was wanted for her abilities. I took her in and she’s safe with me-”

“I’m their tether.” Oli sounded distant. You froze, arms falling slightly, but not leaving her sides. You were shocked she would give that information away so freely. “If I die-” She stopped talking and closed her eyes tight.

“What is she talking about?” Rick swallowed hard. Things got a lot harder if what she was saying was true.

“I’m their tether,” She repeated. “You know how when a baby duck imprints on, like, a human?” She looked back at the group of monsters standing in your home.

“What does that have to do with this?” Bride crossed her arms.

“We found each other in times of need. And somehow, their need was much greater than mine. I’m keeping them sort of… holding onto humanity.”

You were standing there silent. She was talking like you were not even there. So, you decided to speak up. “If she dies, I’ll feel it. And I’m afraid of what I will do.” You watched the group, face deadpan. “I’m not leaving here. We are both safe here.”

There was a heavy silence before Dr. Phosphorus spoke up. “That’s too fucking bad, we need you to come with us.”

You groaned. And then you felt it. Something was getting close to your cabin. Your hair stood on end, your head snapped towards the window behind you and walked towards it. Oli pouted, she knew what that meant by now. You tried to pinpoint where they were coming from. Your head began to pound.

“What are you do-”

The window shattered and a bullet flew through, hitting you straight in the forehead. You heard Oli scream. Her fear was palpable. She was at your side in a second. “There’s blood!” Oli wailed. “They can’t even bleed!” Her screams wrecked you. Everything went black.

[acourtofquestions]

Rowaelin Chapter 41 Kingdom of Ash:

She'd rebuild it—what she had been.

Perhaps one last time, perhaps only for a little while, but she'd do it. If only for Terrasen.

Rowan swooped from the mast, shifting as he reached her side at the rail. He surveyed the night-black sea beyond them. "You should rest." She slid him a glance. "I'm not tired." Not a lie, not in some regards. "Want to spar?" He frowned. "Training can start tomorrow."

"Or tonight." She held his piercing stare, matched his dominance with her own.

"It can wait a few hours, Aelin."

"Every day counts." Against Erawan, even a day of training would count.

Rowan's jaw tightened. "True," he said at last. "But it can still wait. There are ... there are things we need to discuss." The silent words rose in his animal-bright eyes. About you and me.

Her mouth went dry. But Aelin nodded In silence, they strode into their spacious quarters, its only decoration the wall of windows that overlooked the churning sea behind them. A far cry from a queen's chamber, or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin.

At least the bed built into the wall looked clean enough, the sheets crisp and stainless. But Aelin headed for the oak desk anchored to the floor, and leaned against it while Rowan shut the door.

In the dim lantern light, they stared at each other.

She'd endured Maeve and Cairn; she'd endured Endovier and countless other horrors and losses. She could have this conversation with him. The first step toward rebuilding herself.

Aelin knew Rowan could hear her thundering heart as the space between them went taut. She swallowed once. "Elide and Lorcan told you... told you everything that was said on that beach."

A curt nod, wariness flooding his eyes. "Everything that Maeve said." Another nod.

She braced herself. "That I'm-we're mates."

Understanding and something like relief replaced that wariness. "Yes."

"I'm your mate," she said, needing to voice it. "And you are mine."

Rowan crossed the room, but halted a few feet from the desk on which she leaned. "What of it, Aelin?" His question was low, rough.

"Don't you..." She scrubbed at her face. "You know what she did to you, to ..." She couldn't say her name. Lyria. "Because of it."

"I do know."

"And?"

"And what do you wish me to say?"

She pushed off the desk. "I wish you to tell me how you feel about it. If…"

"If what?"

"If you wish it wasn't so."

His brows narrowed. "Why would I ever wish that?"

She shook her head, unable to answer, and stared over her shoulder toward the sea.

It seemed like he would close the distance between them, but he remained where he was.

"Aelin." His voice turned hoarse. "Aelin."

She looked at him then, at the pain in his words.

"Do you know what I wish?" He exposed his palms, one tattooed, the other unmarked. "I wish that you had told me. When you realized it. I wish you had told me then."

She swallowed against the ache in her throat. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Why would it ever hurt me to know the truth that was already in my heart? The truth I hoped for?"

"I didn't understand it. I didn't understand how it was possible. I thought maybe ... maybe you might be able to have two mates within a lifetime, but even then, I just ….." She blew out a breath. "I didn't want you to be distressed." His eyes softened. "Do I regret that Lyria was dragged into this, that the cost of Maeve's game was her life, and the life of the child we might have had? Yes. I regret that, and I wish it had never happened." He would bear the tattoo to remember it for the rest of his days. "But none of that was your fault. I will always carry some of the burden of it, always know I chose to leave her for war and glory, and that I played right into Maeve's hands."

"Maeve wanted to ensnare you to get to me, though."

"Then it is her choice, not yours."

Aelin ran a hand over the worn wood of the desk. "In those illusions she spun for me, she showed me variations on one more than all the others." The words were strained, but she forced them out. Forced herself to look at him. "She spun me one dreamscape that felt so real I could smell the wind off the Staghorns."

"What did she show you?" A breathless question.

Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. "She showed me what might have been—if there had been no Erawan, if Elena had dealt with him properly and banished him. If there had been no Lyria, none of that pain or despair you endured. She showed me Terrasen as it would have been today, with my father as king, and my childhood happy, and..." Her lips wobbled. "When I turned twenty, you came with a delegation of Fae to Terrasen, to make amends for the rift between my mother and Maeve. And you and I took one look at each other in my father's throne room, and we knew."

She didn't fight the stinging in her eyes. "I wanted to believe that was the true world. That this was the nightmare from which I'd awaken. I wanted to believe that there was a place where you and I had never known this suffering and loss, where we'd take one look at each other and know we were mates. Maeve told me she could make it so. If I gave her the keys, she'd make it all possible." She wiped at her cheek, at the tear that escaped down it. "She spun me realities where you were dead, where you'd been killed by Erawan and only in handing over the keys to her would I be able to avenge you. But those realities made me ... I stopped being useful to her when she told me you were gone. She couldn't get me to talk, to think. Yet in the ones where you and I met, where things were as they should have been ... that was when I came the closest."

His swallow was audible. "What stopped you?"

She wiped at her face again. "The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn't understand that. That even if she could create that perfect world, it wouldn't be you with me. And I'd never trade that, trade this. Not for anything." He extended his hand. An offer and invitation.

Aelin laid hers atop his, and his callused fingers squeezed gently. "I wanted it to be you," he breathed, closing his eyes. "For months and months, even in Wendlyn, I wondered why you weren't my mate instead. It tore me up, wondering it, but I still did." He opened his eyes, and they burned like green fire. "All this time, I wanted it to be you."

She lowered her gaze, but he hooked a thumb and forefinger around her chin and lifted her face.

"I know you are tired, Fireheart. I know that the burden on your shoulders is more than anyone should endure." He took their joined hands and laid them on his heart. "But we'll face this together. Erawan, the Lock, all of it.

"We'll face it together. And when we are done, when you Settle, we will have a thousand years together. Longer."

A small sound came out of her. "Elena said the Lock requires—"

"We'll face it together," he swore again.

"And if the cost of it truly is you, then we'll pay it together. As one soul in two bodies.

Her heart strained to the point of cleaving. "Terrasen needs a king."

"I have no intention of ruling Terrasen without you. Aedion can have the job."

She scanned his face. He meant every word He brushed the hair from her face, his other hand still clasping hers to his chest, where his heart pounded a steady, unfaltering rhythm.

"Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too."

She felt the truth of his words echo into the unbreakable thing that bound their very souls, and tilted her face up toward his. But he made no move beyond it.

She frowned. "Why aren't you kissing me?"

"I thought you might want to be asked first."

"That never stopped you before."

"This first time, I wanted to make sure you were ... ready." After Cairn and Maeve. After months of having no choices whatsoever.

She smiled despite that truth. "I'm ready to be kissed again, Prince."

He let out a dark chuckle and muttered, "Thank the gods," before he lowered his mouth to hers.

"You're my mate." Her words were a breathless rush. "And I am yours."

The world might have been burning around them for all she cared, all he cared, too.

"Together, Aelin," he promised, and she heard the rest of the words in every place their bodies joined. Together they would face this, together they would find a way.

Together we'll find a way, their mingling breaths, the crashing sea, seemed to echo.

Together.

[eimiette]

late nights

࣪★ ⋆ ˙ ۪ ݁ 𓈒 ── SPENCER REID

SUMMARY: in the quiet moments between solving cases and late night paperwork, you and spencer blur the lines between friendship and something more, navigating the unspoken tension with stolen kisses in dark corners of the bau evidence room. GENRE: smut with plot, idiots in love (again, sorry) CW/TAGS: soft!dom spencer (duh), exhibitionism?, piv sex, oral f!receiving, lots of banter, est!fwb relationship, reader is referred to as a girl, praise asf.

the bullpen was nearly deserted, save for you and spencer reid, who were still chained to your desks, slogging through the seemingly endless pile of paperwork. the hum of the overhead lights and the occasional rustle of paper filled the quiet. everyone else had long since headed home, but you were too stubborn to leave until the job was done—and spencer was, well, spencer.

you glanced over at him, amused by how intensely he was concentrating on his work. his brow was furrowed, and his pen moved quickly over the report, as if he were solving a puzzle instead of filling out the same tedious forms as you. the sight made you smirk.

“hey, genius,” you called out, breaking the silence. “you got a second?”

he didn’t bother looking up. “for you? always,” he replied, his tone so casual it almost sounded sincere.

“great. i need your help in the evidence room,” you continued, stacking up a few files on your desk. “figured you could speed things up with that supercomputer brain of yours.”

he finally looked up, quirking an eyebrow. “and what, exactly, do i get out of this arrangement?”

you grinned. “the satisfaction of knowing you’re contributing to a more organized workspace. and, you know, my eternal gratitude.”

spencer sighed in mock resignation, setting down his pen. “fine. but only because i can’t stand to watch you fumble around in there any longer.”

you laughed as you led him down the hallway. “oh, please. we both know you live for this stuff. reorganizing the evidence room? it’s like christmas came early for you.”

he rolled his eyes, but his lips quirked up in a small smile. “if this is your idea of christmas, remind me not to accept any holiday invitations from you.”

you reached the heavy door of the evidence room and pushed it open, flipping on the overhead light. “i don’t know, i think you’d have fun. nothing like a little chaos to keep you on your toes.”

“or give me a migraine,” spencer muttered, stepping inside and taking in the rows of shelves filled with boxes and files. “alright, what’s the plan?”

“simple,” you said, setting the files down on a metal table in the center of the room. “we’ve got to merge these old case files into the new system. you’re a walking rolodex, so i’m counting on you to make this as painless as possible.”

he shot you a sideways look. “i see. so i’m just here to do all the thinking?”

“you got it,” you replied with a grin. “and i’m here to provide moral support and keep you entertained.”

“lucky me,” he said dryly, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes as he crouched down to examine the boxes on the lower shelves. “i hope your idea of entertainment is better than your idea of organizing.”

you crouched down beside him, nudging him with your shoulder. “you wound me, reid. i thought we were in this together.”

he snorted softly. “yeah, together in the sense that i’m doing all the work, and you’re supervising.”

“hey, i’m contributing,” you shot back, pulling a box toward you. “i’m providing witty commentary. keeps things interesting.”

he shook his head, but his smile grew. “i’ll give you that. it’s definitely not boring.”

you fell into an easy rhythm, working side by side as you sorted through the files. the banter flowed naturally, the quiet hum of the evidence room providing a backdrop to your back-and-forth. every now and then, you’d catch spencer watching you out of the corner of his eye, and each time, he’d quickly look away, like he’d been caught at something.

at one point, you both reached for the same box at the same time, your hands brushing. you felt a spark of something—maybe it was just static, maybe it was more—and you glanced up to find him looking right at you, closer than you realized.

“careful,” you said with a smirk, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “people might think you’re trying to hold my hand.”

he didn’t move his hand away. instead, his eyes held yours, the corner of his mouth lifting. “like what? that i’m trying to be helpful?”

you chuckled. “or that you’re trying to get handsy.”

he smirked. “not sure that’s a compliment”

you scoffed, shaking your head. “it’s not. but you know, you keep this up, and someone’s gonna catch on.”

“maybe,” he replied, his voice low, “but that didn’t stop you last time.”

you rolled your eyes, leaning in slightly. “last time, we were off the clock. think you can pull this off at work?”

reid's eyes hung low,“i’m a fan of multitasking. besides, you always say i need to get out of my comfort zone.”

you gave him a playful smirk, leaning in closer. “is that what you’re calling this? because it feels more like you’re trying to test your luck.”

reid’s eyes widened, feigning innocence. “i’m just here to help you with the evidence. if you’re reading anything more into it, that’s all on you.”

you raised an eyebrow and he let out a soft chuckle, his hand lightly brushing your arm. “i promise, i’m just focused on finding those files. though if you think my intentions are less than professional, well, maybe you’re the one with a wild imagination.”

you let your hand trail lightly along his chest, raising an eyebrow. “oh, i’m sure you’re ‘focused,’ but i don’t think it’s on the evidence files.”

reid’s smile widened, his gaze dropping to where your hand rested. “noticed, did you? guess i can’t help but be a little distracted when you’re this close.”

you held your breath as reid gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering to cup your cheek. the touch was soft, but the way he looked at you made your pulse quicken.

“you know,” he began, his voice low and earnest, “i’ve been thinking about you all night. can’t seem to focus on anything else.”

you raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “oh? and why’s that?”

he let his fingers trail gently down from your cheek to your waist, his touch making you shiver slightly. “partly because you’re wearing that skirt. it’s just... distracting.”

you felt a jolt at his touch, his fingers brushing lightly under the hem of your shirt. “distracting, huh? how so?”

reid’s gaze dropped to where his hand rested on your waist, his fingers barely grazing your skin. “every time i tried to work, all i could think about was how you looked—how you’ve been driving me fucking insane since you walked in.”

his fingers trailed lightly under the bottom of your shirt, his touch gentle and deliberate. you held your breath, feeling the heat of his hand against your skin.

“you’re making it really hard to stay professional,” he continued, his voice low and husky. “i keep imagining what it’d be like if you were closer, if i could...”

you felt a rush of warmth at his words and his touch. “and what if i don’t mind a little distraction?”

reid’s eyes flickered with a mix of desire and appreciation. “if that’s the case, then i’m more than happy to be distracted.”

without warning, reid’s body pressed against yours, and you could feel the raw heat emanating from him. his lips were soft yet demanding as they captured yours, and your hands instinctively reached up to entangle in his hair. the sensation of his lips moving against yours was electrifying, making your heart race and your skin tingle.

reid's hands found your waist, gripping tightly as he maneuvered you backwards. your back collided with the smooth surface of a nearby desk, papers scattering to the floor unheeded. in one fluid motion, he lifted you onto its edge, positioning himself between your legs. the wood was cool against your flushed skin as reid pressed his body flush against yours.

his lips broke away from your mouth, trailing a searing path along your jawline. you tilted your head back with a soft gasp, granting him better access as he kissed down the column of your throat. his breath was hot against your skin, each exhalation sending tingles of electricity coursing through your body.

reid's voice was low and husky as he murmured against your neck. "you're so pretty," reid whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. his lips brushed against your skin as he spoke, the sensation igniting sparks of pleasure. "been wanting you all day beautiful."

his hands roamed your body, leaving trails of heat in their wake. you felt yourself responding, a familiar warmth building low in your belly. reid's fingers danced along your curves as he continued murmuring praises and promises.

"’gonna make you feel so good," he purred, nipping gently at your earlobe.

your breath hitched as his words and touch inflamed your desire. you pressed closer, craving more contact. a soft moan escaped your lips as reid's hands found sensitive spots, expertly stoking your arousal.his hands slid up your thighs, pushing your skirt up to expose your bare skin. his fingers dipped under the lace of your panties, tracing tantalizing patterns. he leaned in to kiss you again, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. you could taste the sweetness of the coffee he'd had earlier as his tongue explored your mouth.

with a growl, he tugged at your panties, sliding them down your legs and tossing them aside. the cold metal of the desk against your bare skin made you gasp, but the shock quickly dissipated as reid's fingers found your slick folds. he stroked your clit, eliciting a breathy moan.

your body arched involuntarily as his fingers brought you closer to the edge. "fuck, spence..."

reid smirked, his eyes dark with lust. "god, you're so wet already," he groaned, his voice husky with desire.

he leaned down to kiss you again, swallowing your moans as his fingers continued their maddening rhythm. his other hand cupped your breast, squeezing gently through the fabric of your shirt. you were lost in the sensations, your body moving in sync with reid's.

he broke the kiss, his eyes raking over you hungrily, “"i want to taste you so badly."

without waiting for a response, he knelt before you, spreading your thighs. his lips grazed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, causing a rush of pleasure. his breath was hot and intoxicating as he worked his way up, teasing you.

“spread your legs baby, that’s it… wider.” his hands slid up your calves, his palms rough against your skin. his fingertips danced along your thighs, sending waves of electricity coursing through you.

his voice was low and commanding, sending shivers down your spine. you obeyed, your knees falling apart, revealing yourself to him.

reid's tongue traced along the crease where your thigh met your hips, teasing you.

“spence…” you whined, arching into him, craving his touch.

his hands slid higher, pushing your skirt further up and exposing your soaked center. he licked his lips, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"fuck, baby, you look so good like this." he leaned in, his lips ghosting over your core. "so pretty and wet... so ready for me."

a whimper escaped your throat as his breath washed over you. your hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently, urging him to continue. he complied, his tongue flicking out to trace the outline of your lips. you shuddered at the sensation, your hips bucking involuntarily.

reid's fingers dug into your thighs, holding you in place as he lapped at your center. you moaned, your head falling back against the desk.

"tastes so good," he groaned, his breath hot against your skin.

you rocked your hips, grinding against his mouth, desperate for more friction. he responded, his tongue circling your clit, teasing you.

"spence..." you panted, your voice hoarse.

his eyes flicked up to meet yours, his pupils dilated with lust.

"yes?"

"i need... please..."

"what do you need, baby?"

you bit your lip, struggling to form words.

"please, spence, i need you. i need you inside me. please."

your words sent a visible shudder through him. he pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire.

"since you asked so nicely..."

with a groan, he stood, undoing his belt and zipper with frantic urgency. his cock sprang free, hard and aching. you reached for him, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, stroking him slowly. he pressed his lips to yours, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss.

reid's lips never left yours as his hand shifted to his back pocket, smoothly pulling out his wallet. his movements were quick but deliberate, fingers deftly sliding inside to retrieve a condom. as he did, you began unbuttoning his shirt, your fingers working swiftly down the row of buttons, each one exposing more of his skin. his breath hitched slightly at the sensation of your touch, his focus torn between getting the condom and the feel of your hands on him. you could feel his muscles tensing under your fingertips as you pushed his shirt open, and he held the condom up with a small, breathless grin, his eyes locked on yours.

he tore the wrapper open and rolled the condom onto his cock with practiced ease. with a soft moan, he positioned himself between your thighs, his erection pressing against your entrance. you gripped his shoulders, lifting your hips slightly to meet him, impatient and eager.

he pressed his lips to yours, his tongue darting out to taste you. you moaned softly, returning his kiss, your tongues dancing together.

"spence, please."

he nodded, his eyes fluttering shut as he pushed into you.

you gasped at the sensation, your body arching off the desk, desperate for more. he was hot and hard, stretching and filling you, setting every nerve ending on fire. he began to move, slow and steady, his eyes locked on yours.

"you feel so good, pretty girl," he groaned, his voice husky.

he gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, guiding you as he increased his pace, “"wrap your legs around my waist."

your body complied without thought, locking him into place. the change in angle had you gasping and moaning as the delicious friction sent waves of pleasure coursing through you.

reid's eyes fluttered shut, his head falling forward, his lips brushing against yours. he guided your back to the desk top and held you there, thrusting into you, his pace relentless.

your breath was coming in short, shallow gasps as the pressure built inside you. your fingers dug into his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him as you climbed toward the peak.

"don't close your eyes, baby. look at me."

you forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze, losing yourself in his brown eyes.

"that's it, beautiful. so fucking beautiful," he praised.

he shifted his weight, changing the angle once again, his hips grinding against yours.

the sensation was too much, and you felt yourself tumbling over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you.

spencer buried his face in the crook of your neck, groaning as you clenched around him, milking him. he thrust into you once, twice, and then he was coming, his body shuddering with pleasure.

the two of you collapsed in a sweaty, panting heap, reid's weight pinning you to the desk. you lay there, his heartbeat thudding against yours, his breath hot on your skin.

sitting up from the desk, you felt a gentle, lingering warmth from the moment as you stretched. reid stepped closer, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the side of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. his touch was tender but filled with the lingering heat of the encounter.

with a gentle hand, he guided you to your feet, helping you up from the desk. as you stood, your legs trembled slightly. you pulled up your skirt as spencer also redressed. “so,” you teased, nudging his side, “is this where you quote some obscure fucking statistic about how good sex improves cognitive function or something?”

reid chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with that familiar spark of mischief. “actually, studies show that it releases a significant amount of oxytocin, which can enhance bonding and trust. not that you needed an excuse.”

you rolled your eyes, helping him button up his shirt “trust you to turn this into a science lesson. oh my god you might as well give a damn ted talk on the benefits of cuddling?”

“maybe i will,” he replied, his fingers gently massaging your back. “did you know cuddling for 10 minutes releases enough endorphins to improve mood significantly?”

you let out a dramatic sigh, though a smile tugged at your lips. “spencer reid, you are a fucking nerd, and i mean that affectionately. but at least you’re a nerd with good hands.”

he grinned, shifting a little closer. “i’ll take that as a compliment. besides, i think i deserve some credit for that multitasking earlier.”

you laughed, your head resting against his chest. “okay, fine. you did okay. maybe even a little better than okay.”

“a little?” he scoffed, feigning offense. “i think i deserve more than ‘a little better than okay.’”

reid’s expression turned serious, though his eyes were still light and looked at you with affection. “as much as i’d love to bask in compliments, we do have paperwork to finish.”

you sighed, lifting your head to meet his gaze. “i’ll deal with hotch’s scolding in the morning. for now, how about we skip the paperwork and head to my place?” you pouted, pleading with your eyes and held your hands behind your back, feigning innocence as you waited for his response.

reid’s smile softened, clearly charmed by your playful act. “you know, i don’t think i can say no to that.”

you grinned up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “this is exactly why you’re my best friend.”

reid smirked, his arms encircling your waist. “glad i’m still in the running for that title.”

he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead before pulling back with a fond glint in his eyes. with a shared laugh, he guided you out of the office. as you both made your way to the parking lot, your giggles echoed in the hallway like a couple of a couple of teenagers sneaking out past dark.

⟢

[srslyblvck]

── secret santa,, james potter [part one]

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

synopsis: in which you become the secret santa of none other than james potter

genre: fluff

warnings: none

author's note: ik it isn't even december, oh well, i couldn't help myself :)

word count: 1.1k

part two!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ SNOW FLUTTERED GENTLY AGAINST the tall, frosted windows of the Gryffindor common room, casting a soft glow over the cosy space. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, and the air buzzed with anticipation as the Gryffindor gang gathered in a circle on the floor, laughing and sipping on mugs of cocoa.

Sirius, always the self-appointed leader of mischief, stood atop one of the squishy armchairs like he was addressing a crowd of thousands. His dark hair flopped dramatically as he gestured toward the large bowl of folded parchment in his hands.

“Lend me your ears!” Sirius announced with flair. “It is time for the greatest, most legendary Gryffindor tradition—our annual Secret Santa! The only thing that rivals this sacred event is when James hexed Snivellus’—”

“Sirius!” Lily interrupted, fixing him with a sharp glare, though the corners of her mouth twitched in amusement. “If you could manage to keep it PG, that’d be great.”

Sirius sighed dramatically, holding a hand to his chest. “Evans, your lack of faith wounds me. I’m a model of propriety.”

Remus snorted softly from his seat on the arm of the couch. “Sure you are.”

“Can we please get on with it before Sirius bursts into a sonnet about himself?” James chimed in, sprawled out on the floor with his hands behind his head. His untamable hair stuck out in every direction, and his glasses were slightly askew. He was grinning, the kind of grin that could light up an entire room.

“You’re just eager because you’re convinced you’ll get Evans again,” Marlene teased, leaning over to flick James on the shoulder.

James shot her a mock-wounded look. “For your information, I have no such hopes. My heart will graciously accept any gift—except socks. Sirius.”

Sirius gasped. “I would never.”

“You absolutely would,” Dorcas piped up with a smirk, earning a round of laughter from the group.

“Alright, alright!” Sirius cut in, gesturing dramatically toward the bowl in his hands. “The rules are simple: pick a name, don’t tell anyone who you’ve got, and if your gift sucks, prepare to be ruthlessly mocked.”

“Sounds fair,” Peter muttered as he scratched his nose.

One by one, the group leaned forward to pluck a slip of parchment from the bowl. You waited until your turn, your fingers brushing against the cool paper as you grabbed a folded chit. Your heart skipped a beat as you unfolded it and saw the name:

James Potter.

Your eyes instinctively darted toward him. James was mid-laugh, probably at some ridiculous quip Sirius had made, and there was a mischievous sparkle in his hazel eyes. You quickly looked away before anyone could notice the heat rising to your cheeks.

Of all the names you could’ve drawn, it had to be James.

From the moment names were drawn, the common room became a hotbed of shenanigans.

“Oi, love,” James said casually the next evening as you sat near the fire, working on your Potions essay. “You can just tell me who you’ve got, you know. Save yourself the stress.”

You didn’t even look up from your parchment. “Nice try, Potter. Not happening.”

He leaned back in his chair, clutching his chest dramatically. “You wound me! After everything we’ve been through?”

“I’m doing you a favour,” you said with a smirk, finally glancing up. “Imagine the disappointment if I told you someone else got you and not your precious Evans.”

His grin widened, and there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Who says I want Evans?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve only been after her for, what, three years?”

James shrugged, leaning forward on his elbows. “Maybe I’ve had a change of heart. Maybe there’s someone else who’s caught my eye.”

Your cheeks burned, and you quickly ducked your head to pretend you were reading your essay. “Well, whoever they are, I’m sure they pity you.”

He threw his head back with a laugh, and your stomach did an annoying little flip. Merlin, he was impossible.

The chaos only deepened as Christmas approached. James became increasingly annoying in his quest to figure out his Secret Santa, trying to weasel answers out of everyone.

“Wormtail, it’s you, isn’t it?”

“What? No!” Peter said, flustered, clutching his Charms textbook.

“It’s Moony, then,” James decided, turning to Remus.

“I’m not saying anything,” Remus said calmly, flipping a page in his book. “But if you keep pestering me, I’ll make sure whoever has you gets you socks.”

“Traitors, all of you,” James declared, throwing himself onto the couch in defeat.

“I heard Sirius in Honeydukes the other day asking the shopkeeper if they could make a giant chocolate wolf. Like, life-sized.” Marlene whispered, her eyes wide with glee.

You clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle your laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were,” Marlene said, grinning. “The poor clerk looked like they didn’t know whether to laugh or run.”

“Are you two gossiping about me?” Sirius asked, turning to narrow his eyes at you and Marlene.

“Always,” Marlene quipped, not missing a beat.

Sirius looked pleased. “As you should.”

You spent hours agonising over James’ gift. He was impossible to shop for—he had everything he needed, and he didn’t seem the type to care much about material things. But you wanted it to be special, something that would show you’d noticed the little things about him.

Finally, inspiration struck.

You bought him a small, leather-bound notebook, the kind with a soft cover and faint golden stars embossed on the front. James was always scribbling something—Quidditch plays, spell ideas, random doodles. It seemed like the perfect fit.

Inside the front cover, you wrote:

For all your brilliant (and slightly ridiculous) ideas. - ♡

You also found a tiny enchanted Snitch pin at a shop in Hogsmeade. It was gold and delicate, and its tiny wings occasionally fluttered when touched. You figured it was subtle enough to wear but still a nod to his love for Quidditch.

The common room glowed with the warmth of fairy lights strung around the tree, and the group had gathered again, this time with a pile of wrapped gifts beneath the branches. Sirius had, naturally, donned a Santa hat and was gleefully handing out presents.

When it was James’ turn, he tore into the wrapping paper with childlike enthusiasm, his grin widening as he pulled out the notebook and pin.

“This is…” He trailed off, turning the notebook over in his hands. His hazel eyes softened as he read the note inside, and a small, genuine smile played on his lips. “This is brilliant.”

He held up the pin, letting it catch the light, and glanced around the room. “Whoever got me this, you’ve officially got better taste than Sirius.”

“Oi!” Sirius protested, though he was laughing.

James’ gaze flickered to you for a brief moment, and your heart stuttered. Did he know? The way his smile lingered made you wonder, but you quickly looked away, your cheeks warm.

For now, you were content with the way his smile lit up the room.

[mammonscheeks]

obey me brothers reacting to a malnourished mc

⤑ a/n: I feel like this is the most canon writing I’ve ever done yet... enjoy! 

⤑ warnings: none 

obey me masterlist | requesting rules 

DEMON BROTHERS REACTING TO A MALNOURISHED MC 

“Hey, MC! You’re lucky because you get to go out with The Great Mammon tonight! We’ll hit the casino n’ leave with our pockets stuffed, and then we can go clubbing! What d’ya say?” 

“...”

“MC?” 

Mammon put his warm hands on your shoulders and shook gently, not used to your lack of response. He furrowed his eyebrows as he caught sight of the dark bags under your dull eyes. 

“Yeesh, MC! Did ya get into a fight or something?” Mammon joked, trying his best to hide the fact that he was worried about his human. 

“Huh?” you blinked as you realized you had just been zoning out. “I, uh.... Shit! I forgot my potions textbook in my room, I’ll see you all later!” 

“Language,” Lucifer sternly reminded you as you haphazardly scurried out of the classroom, your mind "lagging” as Leviathan would put it. The demon brothers watched you leave, shooting odd looks at each other. 

“I don’t think MC’s been getting enough sleep,” Belphie yawned.

“As much as I hate to agree with Belphegor, he’s right. They seem quite fatigued.” Lucifer said, staring intently at his brothers. “Leviathan, did you force MC to play video games with you all night again?”

“Don’t accuse me first,” Leviathan grumbled. “But no, I was catching up on some anime alone last night.”

“Maybe MC needs to eat some more,” Beelzebub said, snacking on some chips despite the ‘no food’ sign in the front of the classroom. “Oh, I have an idea! Let’s get Luke and Simeon to cook a celestial feast.” 

“You obviously only want that for your own self interest,” Satan rolled his eyes. “I’ve read a book on this. Maybe MC’s malnourished? Humans are fragile, of course. Additionally, the Devildom provides little natural light from the sun like in the human world.” 

“I know just the cure!” Asmodeus gasped, pulling up Akuzon on his D.D.D. “Aaand it’s ordered!” 

“You better not have used my Akuzon account for whatever beauty product you bought,” Leviathan raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh hush, Levi. Trust me, this will fix MC up right away!” 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The package arrived by the end of the school day, thanks to Levi’s Akuzon Prime subscription. 

Mammon held up a colorful piece of gelatin in his hand, inspecting it thoroughly. 

“So this... Vitamin gummy... Is gonna help MC? This tiny little colorful thing? Seriously?” He grunted. 

“Wow... Humans are weaker than I imagined,” Satan frowned, squishing one in his hand. “They have to eat these to stay alive?”

“Beel, don’t you dare think about eating MC’s gummies,” Belphegor scolded his twin. 

“And don’t forget, I also got MC a sunlight lamp!” Asmodeus’ eyes glittered. “Apparently, these provide light therapy by tricking the human body into thinking they’re receiving natural light!” 

“It seems that humans have weak minds then,” Lucifer sighed. “Either that, or we’ve been fooled.” 

You walked into the HOL, stifling a yawn. Your entire body felt heavy from fatigue. It seemed like you had taken the human world’s abundance of sunlight and Vitamin D for granted. Solomon had helped you by casting a energy spell for the first few months you had lived here, but even that was starting to wear off.

“MC!” Mammon basically tripped over his brothers to rush to you. “Take one before you die!” 

Startled, you looked up just in time to see Mammon basically shoving a gummy in your mouth, before you were immediately blinded by Asmodeus holding a warm light in your face. 

You covered your face and squinted your eyes, seeing the eager and expecting eyes of the demon brothers. 

“Guys, what are you doing?” You questioned. This was pretty unexpected, but you were used to the brothers pranks and shenanigans. 

“We just wanted to help! We heard you were malnutritioned because it’s always dark in the Devildom!” Mammon said. 

“So we bought a sun lamp and some vitamin gummies for you,” Belphegor yawned. 

“Aw, guys... Thank you!” You smiled happily. Even though you hadn’t told the brothers explicitly what was wrong, thinking you could take care of it yourself, they had of course, noticed. Your heart swelled with appreciation, until you noticed that the brothers were still staring at you expectantly, like you were about to turn into some mutant creature. 

“Uhh.. You guys do know that it’ll take a few days for my body to recover, right?” You shrugged. 

“Oh..” Satan sighed, as the brothers looked disappointed. “I thought the effects would have been immediate.” 

“Laaame,” Leviathan said. “A power-up type feature would have been way cooler! Like, imagine if MC ate that thing and grew 10 feet in size to defeat the final boss!” 

“That’s fine, MC. Just focus on resting. I’ve excused you from classes for the rest of the week,” Lucifer said. “This is an quality of humans we should have researched more during the planning stage of the exchange program. Diavolo also sends his apologies.” 

"Thank you Lucifer, but it’s no big deal,” you smiled. “Well, I’m going to go take a nap now.” 

"I’ll come with,” Belphegor yawned. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Mammon yelled, running after the two. “I’m the only one allowed in MC’s bed!” 

“Hey, don’t forget about me! I’m bringing the lamp!” Asmo cried, waving it in the air. 

“You know, I also read that cuddling with a partner can help fatigue,” Satan blushed, following behind. 

“I’ll bring some snacks for us,” Beelzebub called after. 

“I’ll bring my TSL movies so we can have some background sound!” Leviathan ran after. “Don’t you dare start without me!” 

Lucifer sighed, looking after his brothers scrambling to get to MC. From having spells backfire on you, battling unique health concerns, and getting preyed on by lower-ranking demons, your acclimation to the Devildom had faced many obstacles. However, Lucifer knew that he and his brothers would do anything to ensure you had a support system. 

As you fell asleep with the weight and warmth of your favorite people around you, you couldn’t help but feel loved and cared for. 

[pickingupmymercedes]

White Fireproof - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: unprotected sexual activities

Wrap it before you tap it.

wordcount: +2k

a/n: White fireproof tribute (the 2019 one, the one that actually had aura)

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

I’m not one to get distracted easily.

Really, I’m not.

But there’s something about the way Lewis moves when he’s in his element that just…scrambles my brain.

And right then, standing in front of me, adjusting the collar of this brand-new, snow-white fireproofs like he’s trying on his newest Dior collection instead of his race driver uniform.

“Do you think this watch pops enough against the white?” he asks, flicking his wrist in my direction.

I hum in response, my eyes glued to the line of his shoulders, the fit of the material across his chest, and the way it clings to his hips like it’s got a personal vendetta against me.

I mean I’ve seen him in fireproofs a hundred times, but this shade of white? This specific white? Sinful.

Lewis keeps talking, oblivious to my descent into thirsty nostalgia. “I think it’ll works for the shots. Clean, sleek. What do you think, babe?”

“Mmhm,” I mutter, my mind decidedly not in the present.

Here’s the thing: Lewis like this, all crisp and sharp, unlocked a memory I had neatly tucked away.

Abu Dhabi, 2019. Last race of the season.

Last time he wore a fireproof this white at a race. And the first of many times we did something reckless—but oh-so worth it.

Lewis, bless his heart, keeps chatting. Rambling on about how the watch’s black dial contrasts with the white fabric, and I’m sitting here pretending to listen while my brain serves up a reel of that night.

“And then they said we might try another angle where the light hits the watch just right—”

Oh, I’ll tell you about angles, sir.

Like the one I had to work at to get around the time frame on that fireproof while making good on a promise that was half a joke, half a long-standing fantasy.

He finally looks at me, his brows pulling together slightly. “You good? You’re quiet.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I wave a hand, crossing my legs to try and focus. “Just thinking about…stuff.”

Smooth, Y/n. Really smooth.

I didn’t think I’d actually do it.

A tipsy promise made over tequila shots months ago doesn’t usually hold much weight. But then again, I’m not dating just anyone.

I’m dating Lewis Hamilton, one of the most competitive guys I’ve met, fresh off winning the last race of the season and securing a Grand Chelem after achieving his 6th championship two races back.

And who am I to back out now, when he’s standing in front of me, soaked in champagne, grinning like he’s on top of the world?

He barely gets two steps into the driver’s room before I’m on him. I press him against the door, his laugh vibrating against my lips as I kiss him like we’ve got all the time in the world, even though we don’t.

“Someone’s happy” he teases between kisses, his hands settling on my hips.

“You’ve got no idea,” I murmur, nipping at his bottom lip before pulling back slightly. His gaze, dark and shining, flicking between my eyes and my lips.

I let my fingers toy with the zipper of his race suit, tugging it down just enough to reveal the long sleeve underneath. “Remember the bet?” I ask, my voice low, playful.

He blinks, clearly taking a second to process, and then his brows shoot up. “You’re serious?”

“Very serious.” I grin, dragging the zipper down the rest of the way. “We got fifteen minutes, champ.”

He swallows hard, the heat in his eyes unmistakable now. “Yes ma’am” he mutters, no resisting as I guide him toward the small sofa tucked in the corner of the room, giving him a gentle push.

He obeys, leaning back slightly, his legs spread just enough to make my mouth water.

I settle between his knees, my hands gliding over the champagne-soaked fireproofs. The fabric clings to his skin, warm and damp beneath my fingers, exuding that sharp, fizzy scent of victory—sweet and metallic, a heady mix of adrenaline and success.

His gaze doesn’t waver, intense and unblinking, like he’s trying to commit every second of this to memory.

I can hear the quickening rhythm of his breath, and the barely-there hitch that makes me shiver. His chest rises and falls beneath my hands, steady but heavy, the pulse in his neck beating fast enough for me to notice, almost in sync with my own racing heartbeat.

“You with me?” I ask, smirking as I press a kiss to his hand that is hovering mine. His silence is answer enough.

His breath hitches audibly as my fingers hook into the waistband of his fireproofs, the sound low and raspy like it’s caught in his throat.

The soft rustle of fabric against his skin fills the air as I tug them down, revealing smooth, sweat-slicked skin that glistens faintly under the dim lights. The faintest trace of cologne—woody, clean—lingers where his body heat mingles with the champagne.

 It’s intoxicating, almost dizzying, and I can’t help but lean in, my nose brushing just above his waistband to drink it in.

The bulge in his briefs is impossible to ignore, and I let my fingers trail over it lightly, earning a soft groan from him.

“You know” I say, leaning in close, my lips brushing against the fabric “if you walk into that debrief with this situation still going on, it might be a little awkward.”

He chuckles, though it’s strained. “Help me then.”

“Maybe I should” I reply, pulling his briefs down just enough to free him.

He’s already hard, the tip glistening with precum.

I start slow, my tongue flicking out to taste him, and the salty but fruity tang spurring me. I drag my tongue along the length of him, spreading the slickness as I go.

His breath is uneven, and I can feel his restraint slipping.

When I finally take him into my mouth, I go as far as my throat allows, the coolness of my lips contrasting with his heat. I pull back with a soft pop, flicking my eyes up to meet his.

His gaze is locked on me, intense and unwavering.

I wrap both hands around his length, stroking him slowly, deliberately, while maintaining eye contact. His lips part slightly, and when I hear the first low moan escape, I can’t help but grin.

“Enjoying yourself?” I tease, my voice raspy.

His only response is a shaky exhale, and I take that as my cue to dive back in, my mouth working with my hands. His hips twitch slightly, his self-control barely there anymore.

The sounds he makes—soft groans, sharp inhales, and the occasional whispered curse—are like music.

His thighs tense under my palms, firm and unyielding, as if bracing for what’s next. I can feel the heat radiating off him, the heady mix of sweat and lingering champagne heightening every inhale I take.

His body is alive beneath me, each twitch, each gasp, syncing with my rhythm of hands and mouth.

When I glance up again, his head is tipped back, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He’s completely lost in the moment, lost in me.

I pull back, letting him slip from my mouth as I sit back on my heels and his eyes snap open, dark and desperate, as if I’ve just yanked him back to earth.

“Problem?” I ask innocently, tilting my head, pretending like I’m done.

His jaw clenches. “Babe” he murmurs, his voice a low growl, his eyes narrowing in that way that makes my stomach flip.

I raise a brow, waiting. He knows what I want. He exhales heavily, his hand reaching out to rest on the back of my head.

With the gentlest pressure, he guides me back down. “Don’t stop,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over my jaw.

I smirk before taking him in again, my lips wrapping around him, picking up right where I left off.

His hands stay on me, not pushing, just there, grounding himself. I can feel his thighs tense beneath my palms, his body teetering on the edge.

And then—footsteps. A knock on the door.

“Oi, hurry up, you two!” Angela’s voice cuts through from the other side. “Five minutes left”

Lewis freezes, his entire body going rigid. His eyes shoot to the door and I freeze right with him, unmoved, my tongue teasing him lightly just to test his resolve.

Angela’s steps fade down the hall, and I finally lift my head just enough to whisper, “She’s gone.”

His shoulders sag, and he lets out a breathy laugh. “You’re gonna kill me” he mutters.

“Not before I finish what I started.”

Without missing a beat, I shift my focus, letting my hand drift lower to gently cup his balls. I massage them with just enough pressure to make his breath hitch, all while my mouth works him steadily.

His hips twitch, and I know I’ve got him.

“Shit,” he breathes, his head falling back.

It doesn’t take long before his hands move again, this time pulling gently at my head, trying to stop me. “Babe,” he rasps, his voice strained. “I’m gonna—”

I hum in response, doubling down, taking him deeper. His grip tightens, his hips jerking slightly as he tries to warn me again, but I’m not stopping.

Not this time.

His body tenses, and then I feel it—hot and thick, spilling down my throat.

I swallow every drop, my eyes locked on his, watching as his features twist in pure bliss. His mouth falls open, and the quietest, most wrecked groan escapes him as he collapses back against the sofa. Spent.

I give him a few more gentle strokes, making sure I’ve got everything, before finally pulling back, letting my lips trail one last time over the sensitive tip.

His hands fall to his sides, useless, as he tries to catch his breath.

I rise slowly, crawling up his body until I’m face to face with him. His eyes are half-lidded, heavy with satisfaction, but they don’t leave mine.

I press a soft, chaste kiss to his lips, like I hadn’t just sucked him dry moments before.

“Thanks for the trophy,” I whisper against his mouth, grinning.

I’m still half-lost in my own mind when Lewis’s voice breaks through the haze. “Love, you good?”

I blink, snapping back to the present. He’s standing in front of me, white fireproofs hugging every muscle, his brow slightly raised, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, waving a hand dismissively, even as my cheeks burn. He doesn’t need to know how far down memory lane I just went. “Just... admiring the view.”

His smirk deepens. “Uh-huh.” He steps closer, leaning in slightly. “You’ve been staring at me like that since I put this on. Something on your mind?”

Oh, you sweet, oblivious man.

I clear my throat, standing up from the couch and brushing past him to inspect his fireproofs more closely. “All I’ll say it’s,” I start, my fingers tracing the fabric near his shoulder, “It’s not as good as the 2019 one.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms. “I thought you liked the all-white look.”

“I did,” I admit, turning to face him fully, my hands on my hips. “But these little dot patterns?” I point at the subtle textured details near his ribs. “They’re throwing me off”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Of course.”

“Hey,” I retort, poking him lightly in the chest, “I’m only pointing out the obvious. The 2019 ones were iconic. These? Meh.” I scrunch my nose for dramatic effect.

“Meh?” he repeats, incredulous. “Okay, little miss fashionista”

I grin. “And yet, here you are, still putting up with me.”

He leans in closer, his voice dropping to that soft, teasing tone that always gets me. “You’ve got strong opinions for someone who couldn’t keep her hands off me in the old ones.”

Touché.

“Fair point” I concede, stepping back just enough to keep things playful. “But let’s not forget who really benefited from that moment in history.”

He laughs, shaking his head as he adjusts the sleeves of his fireproofs. “You know,” he murmurs, his eyes meeting mine, “I don’t remember much from that race. But those ten minutes? Burned into my memory forever.”

I bite my lip, warmth blooming in my chest. “Good” I reply, my voice softening. “I like knowing I leave an impression.”

He reaches for my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “You always do.”

The knock on the door snaps us both out of the moment. “Lewis, waiting for you!”

Lewis sighs, giving my hand a quick squeeze before letting go. “ I’ll be right back”

As he heads for the door, I can’t resist one last parting shot. “Tell the photographers to focus on your face” I call out. “It’s the real moneymaker.”

With one final smirk, he disappears down the hallway, leaving me alone with my thoughts—and the satisfaction of knowing I’ll never look at white fireproofs the same way again.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

@hiireadstuff @f1-football-fiend @unlikelystay

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[satori-runa]

—Sweet as you

Summary: You and Captain Curly share a meal, despite your irritation regards the device that bakes your food.

Tags: Established Relationship, fluff, before the crash

Words: 0,8k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

No matter how many times you stand in the kitchen, Curly would always be amused by the sheer expression of despair on your face. He couldn't lie, it was extremely cute for him to see your brows furrow in irritation and your nose scuffing up slightly.

“You can't tell me that is cooking.” You mumbles, glancing at the device on the counter and the two packs of different ingredients in your hand. “This is more like…dark forbidden witchcraft.”

Being stuck in space, between all these stars, means that there is no fresh food, shops, or delivery services. The crew was certainly stuck with the device that mixes packs to make dishes. And as a former self-claimed chef, you hated it. This wasn’t cooking, and it never would be.

“Food is food.” The Captain chuckled quietly, bringing some tone into his usually exhausted voice. “As long as it works and we don't starve.” He took the packs gently out of your hands and placed them onto their respective spots in the cooking device, watching it close and make some bread.

“Told you, evil witchcraft.” You sighed, crossing your arms as you watched the machine whirr to life, producing something that only barely resembled real food. “I miss actual cooking.” You muttered, leaning against the counter. “You know, where you chop vegetables, sauté things, maybe burn a little garlic by accident.”

Curly smiled, stepping closer to you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “I know,” he said softly, his voice less teasing now. “And I miss seeing you in your element, making something real. But hey, when we get out of here, I might see what I can do to improve this experience for you. Who knows, maybe we can get an actual freezer to store products and a stove.” His eyes softened as he looked at you, the exhaustion of space life momentarily lifting.

You looked up at him, your frustration melting a little under his gentle gaze. “You promise?”

He chuckled, a hand resting lightly on your waist. “Of course. You’re going to make us a feast as soon as we’re planet-side again.”

You laughed softly, leaning into him. “I’ll hold you to that.” The warmth of his body against yours was comforting, and you moved your hands to hold him closer.

Curly pressed a light kiss to your forehead, his hand brushing through your hair. “In the meantime, we’ve got witchcraft bread.” He grinned, reaching for the freshly made loaf. “And the company isn’t so bad either.”

You smiled, resting your head against his chest. “I guess I can live with that.”

You settled at the small table with Curly, the freshly made bread, and some packets of synthetic jam between you. Despite your earlier complaints, the warmth of the meal and the quiet intimacy of the moment made it feel… different. Better. Curly tore off a piece of bread and handed it to you, his eyes soft as he watched you.

You hesitated at first, taking a small bite, expecting the usual bland taste. But somehow, with Curly sitting across from you, smiling like that, it didn’t seem so bad. The bread was warm, and the sweetness of the jam clung to your tongue in a way that felt almost comforting.

“You’re enjoying it.” Curly said, his lips shifting into a grin as he watched your expression soften.

“Maybe just a little.” You admitted, taking another bite. “But it’s definitely not because of the bread.” You smiled at him, feeling the warmth of the moment wrap around you like a blanket.

Curly chuckled, taking a bite himself. But when you noticed a few crumbs clinging to his lips, you reached out instinctively. “You’ve got something…” You murmured, brushing the crumbs off the corner of his mouth with your thumb. His lips quirked at your touch, eyes twinkling.

Before you could pull your hand back, Curly gently caught your wrist, holding it in place. His gaze locked with yours for a moment, soft and teasing, before he slowly leaned forward. His lips pressed against your fingers, and he licked a bit of jam that had smeared onto your skin, his eyes never leaving yours.

A warm flush spread across your cheeks as his lips lingered, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. “Tastes better this way.” He murmured with a playful smile.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, heart fluttering at the way he looked at you, so full of affection. “You’re impossible.” You whispered, feeling the closeness between you like a steady heartbeat.

“Maybe.” He said, still holding your hand gently in his, “But I make the jam taste sweeter, don’t I?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile never faded as you leaned closer, resting your forehead against his. “Yeah, you do.” You whispered, feeling the warmth of him giving you comfort.

[lenkist]

Good job, detective

Detective!Agatha x fem!reader (3.2k words)

summary: you’re a newly minted detective who just cracked your first murder case, and the entire police department decided to celebrate with a small party—naturally, Agatha Harkness was there.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, g!p agatha harkness, smut, dirty talk, penetration, blowjob, mommy issue, explicit language, age gap, praising kink, outdoor, unprotected sex, slight footjob

a/n: I was a little high on edibles and listening to Crush by Ethel Cain while writing this. Let me know if you guys want part 2!

Case closed. The bad guy got caught. You did it.

The air in the bar is filled with the smell of spilled beer and the stale scent of whiskey that lingered from the bar’s low-lit corners.

Tonight, the place felt even smaller than usual, the laughter of the police officers in the corner fading into the background as you kept your eyes on the one person who hadn't yet congratulated you on your first solved murder case: Detective Agatha Harkness.

She was sitting by herself like she always did. A worn cigarette dangled from her lips, ash falling off in slow, lazy bits. Her beer, the cheapest they had, was halfway gone, and her navy cargo pants and dark flannel looked as though they’d seen too many long nights like this.

She looked at ease, but the slight tension in her posture told you she wasn’t entirely relaxed. Maybe she hadn’t been for years.

“Good job, newbie,” Herb said, clinking his beer against your shoulder, snapping you back to the present.

You offered him a polite smile. Herb was one of the few people in the department you found easy to talk to. “Thanks, but it wasn’t just me. Agatha helped a lot with the case.”

“She did,” Herb said, his gaze drifting over your shoulder. You didn’t need to look to know he was watching Agatha. “She can be tough, sure, but she’s one hell of a mentor—and an even better detective. The best we’ve got.”

Your heartbeat quickened, and you felt your cheeks flush as you nodded. “Yeah,” you agreed, your voice quieter. “She’s really good at that.”

You’d been watching her all night, trying to figure out if she was as untouchable as she seemed. Now, drunk and buzzed from the alcohol, you figured you might as well try.

You waited until the last of the other cops had filtered out and the bar had quieted before finally making your move toward her.

You wobbled slightly as you approached her booth, the floor beneath your boots feeling unsteady. Agatha didn’t even look up. She didn’t need to. She already knew you were coming.

“Detective,” you said, your voice slurring just a bit. “Thought I’d join you.”

Agatha looked up slowly, her blue eyes narrowing just the slightest as she took in your unsteady stance. She didn’t smile. Didn’t say a word for a long moment. The only sound was the faint clink of her beer hitting the table.

“You’re drunk.” She muttered, voice rough like she hadn’t spoken all night. Her cigarette dangled from her lips, the ember glowing brightly in the dim light.

You didn’t care. You were tired of playing it safe, tired of pretending you didn’t notice her, that you didn’t feel that pull when you were around her. “So what?” you said, voice a little more defiant than you intended. “Doesn’t mean I can’t talk to you.”

She took a long drag from her cigarette, eyes still locked on you, sizing you up. “It means you can’t think straight,” she said, voice flat. “And you’re about to make a fool of yourself.”

“Maybe I do want to make a fool of myself.”

Agatha snorted softly, shaking her head as a sly smirk curved her lips. “I know exactly what you’re doing,”

“Oh?” you replied, tilting your head. “And what’s that?”

She leaned back slightly, crossing her arms as if she were interrogating a suspect. “Trying to sleep with your senior detective to fast-track your career. It’s cute, really.”

“It’s not about climbing the ladder,” you said, your voice steady despite the weight of her scrutiny. “I just wanna have a drink with you, that’s all. Celebrating our success on the case. We worked so hard together, didn’t we?”

“Isn’t it, though?” Agatha countered, her eyes narrowing like she was analyzing every detail of your reaction. “Because from where I’m standing, it sure looks that way.”

“I’m not interested in hiding my desires, detective,” you said softly, looking down and seeing a noticeable bulge on Agatha’s pants. You wet your lips. “Can’t say the same to you, though.”

For the first time, Agatha didn’t look away. But she didn’t smile either. Instead, her gaze darkened, and she put the cigarette out in the ashtray between you. “I’m not the one you want, kid,” she said, voice a little more serious now, almost a warning. “I’m trouble. And you’re better off without it.”

You scoffed, your head swimming a little more with every word she said, but you pushed through. “You think I’m some little rookie who’s scared of a little trouble?”

“Yeah,” she replied, voice thick with that Southern drawl. “I think that’s exactly what you are. And you think you’re the first one who’s tried to make a move on me after a few drinks?”

Her words hit harder than you expected, but you didn’t back off. You weren’t going to let her get away with pushing you away like she had with everyone else.

“No,” you said, shaking your head, the alcohol making your thoughts fuzzier. “But I’m more fun. You’ll see.”

Agatha tilted her head, studying you carefully. You could see the wheels turning behind her eyes, and for a split second, there was something soft there— curiosity, maybe. But then it was gone, replaced by that cold, distant look that made her so damn good at shutting people out.

“I’ve been down that road, sweetheart,” she said, her voice low, cocky. “I don’t need another mess in my life. Especially not one that can’t even hold their liquor.”

“I can hold my liquor just fine,” you said, your voice firm now, the alcohol starting to fuel your stubbornness. “I just think maybe you’re a little scared of me.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, the faintest flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Scared of you?” she repeated, her lips curling into a smirk. “I’ve been around, kid. Don’t flatter yourself.”

You leaned in closer, your chest almost brushing against the edge of the table. “Maybe I’m not the one who’s scared,” you said softly, words coming out before you could think. “Maybe you’re just too afraid to let someone in.”

She didn’t confirm, or deny. She didn’t need to.

Instead, Agatha stood up suddenly, her movements slow, deliberate. “You’re drunk, rookie, get rest. Go home,” she muttered, her voice almost tired now. “See you tomorrow.”

And with that, she walked out of the booth, her figure disappearing into the dim light of the small bar.

You watched the smoke from her last cigarette curl in the air, and it seemed to mock you, reminding you of the way Agatha had pulled away from you without a second thought. But you weren’t going to let it end like that. Not tonight.

You weren’t a fool. You could tell by the way she looked at you—half dismissive, half something else—that she wasn’t immune to whatever this was. That flicker of vulnerability that she quickly buried every time you came close, the little moments where she didn’t pull away fast enough. She might have tried to shut you down, but you could see it, just beneath the surface.

And you weren’t backing down.

You pushed yourself away from the booth and stumbled a little as you made your way to the door, your boots clicking a little too loudly against the worn wooden floors. You had no idea where she went, but you had a feeling you didn’t need to look far.

Agatha was at the far end of the empty parking lot, leaning against her car, a cigarette in her hand. The glow of the streetlamp cast a shadow over her, making her look even more like she belonged to the night than she had inside.

You walked toward her slowly, your thoughts still clouded by the alcohol, but your steps steady.

She didn’t look up when you stopped a few feet away from her. “Thought I told you to go home,” Agatha’s voice was low and rough, and she didn’t turn to face you. Her thumb flickers a cigarette’s butt.

You didn’t take a step back. “I don’t think you told me that,” you replied, your voice more confident than you felt. “You just tried to get rid of me.”

“Same thing.” She took another drag. “You’ve already had your fun for the night. Go back inside, have another drink with the others. Let them keep telling you how great you are.”

“They’re all already gone home.”

Agatha shrugged. “And you should too, kid.”

Then, without warning,

You stepped forward, close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating from her, the tension so thick between you two that it almost made the air crackle. Agatha’s breath hitched as you grabbed her crotch.

Fuck it.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“You said you didn’t want me, liar,” you said softly, your voice low, your chest tight. “You’re hard, detective.”

Agatha didn’t say anything right away. But when she did, it wasn’t with words. Instead, she reached out, her fingers brushing the back of your neck before pulling you in. The kiss was slow, deliberate, testing, like she was still deciding if she wanted this, if you were worth it.

You moan into her greedy mouth. Your hand squeezes her bulge, earning a sweet moan and a soft hip buck from Agatha. You’re practically throwing yourself into her arms. That pulled-up sleeve of her flannel is making your head dizzy. She’s such a handsome woman, and you want nothing more than for her to ruin you, to have your fingernails clawing onto her veiny arms as she choked you in bed.

When she pulled back, her blue eyes were darker than they had been before. Her breath was shallow, but she still didn’t say anything.

“Agatha?” you call for her, unsure if you have pushed it too far. “I—”

“Get in the car,” she demands, pulling your hair with force. “Now.”

Swallowing hard, you took a step back and reluctantly broke away from her embrace. As you walked towards the car, you felt a mixture of excitement and fear coursing through your veins. This was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, but the idea of being with Agatha, having her in every way possible, was intoxicating.

As you reached the car, Agatha slid into the driver's seat, her eyes never leaving yours. You could see the hunger and desire mirrored in her gaze. It made your heart race even faster and sent a surge of adrenaline through your body.

"You’ve been bad," she whispered, breathing hard. She didn’t even bother to take off her clothes. Agatha just unzipped her cargo pants and freed her hardened, big, thick cock, and sighed in relief.

“God, Agatha—”

"Look at the mess you made me, hon."

You couldn't help but lick your lips in anticipation. The sight of it was overwhelming, and you felt a surge of arousal that you had never experienced before. You knew this was wrong to fuck your peer, but all you could think about was feeling that perfect cock inside you, being impaled on it and taken by the woman you had been so drawn to for months.

Your cunt clenched around nothing with the thought of Agatha’s hands on your hips, fucking your pussy. “Please.”

"Begging me to fuck you already, huh?" she said, her voice low and sexy. "I bet you'd be great at anything I asked you to do."

You couldn't help but blush at the compliment, feeling a warm sensation spread through your body. "What do you want me to do next?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Agatha's eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned forward to press her lips against yours in a gentle, possessive kiss. "I think it's time for you to show me just how good you are," she said, her voice low and husky. She reached down, grasping your hair gently and pulling you toward her cock. "Suck me off, baby," she commanded, her voice firm and authoritative.

You didn't need to be told twice. You eagerly took Agatha's cock into your mouth, savoring the taste of her leaks like a sweet honey.

She groaned in pleasure as you began to suck and stroke her, feeling her cock twitch and grow harder in your mouth. She’s so big that you can’t even fit it down your throat without choking in tears.

“It’s fine, baby, take it slow.”

You nodded and ran your tongue over the head of her cock. You could feel her thighs trembling as you worked your way down her length, teasing the sensitive areas with your tongue and lips. Agatha moaned loudly, her hands gripping your hair tightly as she enjoyed the sensations.

You moved faster, knowing that you had to bring her to climax soon. You could feel a powerful energy building within you just from pleasuring her, and you knew that this was something you wanted to do for her again and again. Her hips bucked against you, both her hands now gripping your hair as she began to lose in the sensation, each movement pushing her cock deeper and deeper.

"Oh, fuck," she breathed, her voice a low growl. Her head was throwing against the seat, her eyes were closed and her lips parted in messy moans as she held your head still and fucked into your mouth. She looked high and drunk in absolute pleasure, and that made you feel proud of yourself. "Yes, just like that."

You could feel the tension building within her, and you knew that she was close. Her breathing grew ragged, and her grip on your hair tightened as she neared the edge.

"I'm going to cum," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Yes, right there."

And then it happened – Agatha's body stiffened, and her cock throbbed in your mouth as she came. You felt the warm rush of her climax as she flooded your mouth with hot fluids. Your eyes rolled in pleasure and your nose pressed against her pubic hair. She cried out, her voice a mix of pleasure and relief, as she rode out her orgasm.

Eventually, she softened and pulled out of your mouth, collapsing back onto her seat. You pushed yourself up, catching your breath. You’re dripping wet and Agatha noticed the needs in your eyes.

Then, Agatha commands. “On your knees.”

You quickly obeyed, moving to the backseat, getting down on all fours with your ass in the air. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, and you pushed yourself back against Agatha's legs, yearning for her touch.

You’re so ready to get fucked out of your sanity. You‘re a mess, drunk in alcohol and Agatha’s touch.

"That's it, baby," Agatha crooned, her hand running up and down your spine, sending shivers through your entire body. "Just like that."

With a grunt of effort, Agatha positioned herself behind you. You could feel the head of her cock probing against your entrance, testing your readiness. You whimpered softly, a mix of fear and excitement washing over you.

With a fierce grip on your hips, Agatha thrust forward. You felt the head of her cock push past your tight entrance, stretching you in a way you never thought possible. A gasp escaped from you as she continued to push deeper, and you felt every inch of her cock slide into you. It was both painful and exhilarating, the sensation overwhelming.

"Oh god, yes," you cried out, your voice shaking with emotion. "Fuck me, Agatha. Fuck me hard."

Agatha didn't need to be told twice. She began thrusting into you with a fierce intensity, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through your body. The slapping sounds of her hips hitting against your ass filled the car, punctuated by the occasional moan or gasp from either one of you.

Your hands reached back, gripping onto the seat belt clasps for support as Agatha pounded into you relentlessly. Her breaths came in short pants, her muscles tense with exertion. You could feel her heart pounding against your back, in sync with your own rapid heartbeat.

"This is what you want, huh?" you nodded, chanting her name like a sacred prayer. She growled, her grip tightening on your hips. "This is it, right? Getting fucked by an older woman’s cock, is that your kink?”

“Yes! Mommy,” you cried out, “yes, yesyesyes.”

Your body responded to her words, your pussy clenching around Agatha's cock with each thrust. The feeling was indescribable, and you knew that this was something you would never forget.

"Fuck, Agatha," you moaned, lifting your hips to meet each of her strokes. "I'm going to come so hard."

"Good," Agatha murmured, her voice thick with desire. "I want to feel it, baby. I want to feel you come apart.”

Her words sent you over the edge. The pleasure built up inside of you, rushing through your body like wildfire until finally, it exploded out of you in waves of bliss. You screamed out her name, your pussy clenching down on her cock as your orgasm washed over you.

Agatha groaned as she felt your pussy contract around her cock, the sensation pushing her closer to her own release. "Fuck, hon," she hissed, "I'm right there with you."

Her hips bucked harder, each thrust more messy than the last. You could feel the tension in her tight grip on your hips, her veins popping up on her neck and her arms as she neared her climax. The feeling was intoxicating, knowing that you were driving her to such heights of pleasure.

"Cum for me, Agatha," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. "Cum inside me."

This was all it took. With a final, powerful thrust, Agatha cried out, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her cock jerked inside you, shooting pulse after pulse of hot cum deep into your pussy. It was intense, almost painful in its intensity, but so incredibly pleasurable. You wondered how many women have had Agatha cumming inside them like this, the thought made you feel a wave of jealousy right through your chest.

As Agatha's orgasm subsided, her breathing slowly returning to normal, she pulled out of you with a soft pop. You felt a warm, wet sensation between your legs as her cock slipped from you, leaving you feeling empty and wanting more.

Her eyes flicked down to her slick, cum-covered cock before returning to you with a wicked smirk playing on her lips. She scoffed, flipping your body effortlessly onto your back. Your eyes followed her movements, now lying on your back as you watched Agatha try to catch her breath.

"Tired already, detective?" you challenged playfully. Your feet shifted towards her thigh, feeling her up through the rough fabrics of her cargo pants before pressing your feet on her sensitive cock, teasingly giving her a foot job that caused Agatha to buck her hips and whimper in sudden pleasure. You were certain that you could make her cum again, or even drive her to overstimulation if she’d let you.

She stopped your movements with one firm grasp.

"Not enough, huh?" she asked, gazing at her own cum running down between your legs and looking back at you like she couldn’t believe you still wanted more. “Are you trying to get yourself knocked up or something?”

“Maybe,” you teased, giggling softly before grabbing her collar and pulling her into a kiss. “You’re incredible,” you whispered, your fingers slipping into her hair. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

Agatha’s smirk widened as she cocked her head, her southern charm slipping effortlessly into her tone. “Well, sugar, ’course you haven’t,” she drawled, her voice dripping with a honeyed confidence that made your cheeks burn. “I’m exceptional.”

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Coveted.

Pairing: Yandere!Geto x Reader (+Yandere!Gojo) [JJK].

Word Count: 1.1k.

TW: Set Two or Three Years Post KFC Break-Up, Intimidation, Prolonged Stalking, Future Dub/Con, Mentions of Non/Con, and Unbalanced Power Dynamics.

[Part Two]

“You’re Satoru’s date, right?”

The voice was masculine, deep and as rough as it could be without crossing the line into gravelly. You stiffened, squaring your shoulders and burrowing your nails into your palm as your eyes darted across the table – where a man with dark hair and an off-putting smile was currently sliding into the unoccupied side of your booth. He reached out, clearly planning to shake your hand, but when you failed to move, he only let out an airy chuckle, propping his chin on his fist as he went on. “I’m a friend of his – Geto Suguru. You can call me Suguru-chan, though. Has he already told you about me?”

He was dressed like he’d just rolled out of bed – his attire limited to a form-fitting black shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants in the same color, his hair pulled into a loose bun. His tone was friendly, light. You returned it with a dead-pan stare, hoping it conveyed the weight of your exhaustion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Is that what he told you to say?” Another laugh, somehow more blood-chilling than the first. Your attention shifted outward, to the late-night diner where Gojo had asked you to meet him. There were only a few other customers, the skeleton of a proper staff, but single other person would’ve been one too many. You didn’t need to make a scene, not again, not after last time. “That sounds like him. He’s always been a stingy bastard.”

With a pressed frown, you pushed yourself to your feet, but Geto’s grin only broadened. He snapped his fingers and as if it’d only been waiting for a queue, a shape manifested at the end of your bench. You couldn’t bring yourself to look directly at it, but you saw enough out of the corner of your eye; a bulbous torso, shrunken arms, too many eyes to resemble any living thing. Instantly, what little courage you still had was replaced with a knot of dread, a bolt of pure anxiety. You half-expected it to lunge, to bite, to attack, but it didn’t move, only standing guard at the foot of your table.

It didn’t move, but it didn’t have to. In a moment, you’d fallen back into your seat and shoved yourself against the wall, fighting not to shake. It was a sight Geto seemed to take a particular joy in, letting his head lull to the side as he watched you curl into yourself. “You can see them. I was starting to think I had the wrong person.” A pause, a glance towards his summoned monster before his narrowed gaze skirted back to you. “Don’t be shy, now. How much did he tell you?”

It took you a moment to find your tongue, another to swallow back the tremor in your voice. "He said he could protect me.” It was harder to admit than you’d expected – not so much that you needed protection, but that there was something you needed protection from. You’d spent so long writing off your monsters as hallucinations that it was still a struggle to act like they were anything more. But, for as unwilling as you were to confront your little monsters, the resounding ache in your right leg where that thing had dug its claws into you was impossible to ignore. “He… he didn’t mention anyone else, but we’ve only spoken once. He was supposed to explain—” You gestured to the monster. “—all of this today.”

A slight hum, a look of genuine surprise. “So, he’s got some self-restraint after all! I thought he would’ve cracked months ago, considering how long he’s been following you around like a lost puppy.” He must’ve seen your expression fall, your posture slacken, because he didn’t wait for a response before going on. “I mean, you must’ve known that, at least. Did you think he’d play knight-in-shining-armor for just anyone?”

“I…” You trailed off quickly, shaking your head. “I don’t care. As long as he can protect me, I don’t care why he’s doing it.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to say. You wouldn’t want to make Satoru feel so replaceable, now, would you?”  

At that, you met his stare. “What do you want?”

His eyes skirted towards the monster, who took an obedient step back. For a second, you considered running, trying to slip away before the man in front of you or your newly-realized stalker could make you regret ever showing up at all, but Geto was quick to cut off your escape route, filling the empty space beside you before you could so much as pick which door you would barrel through on the way out. “Well, now that we’re on the same page,” Unlike his monster, he didn’t give you the option of leaving him in your peripheral; settling close enough for his leg to press into yours. At this proximity, you could pick up the smoke on his breath, the scent of stale gore clinging to him like a second skin. As if he’d just stepped out of a blood bath. “I’d like to make you an alternative offer.”

“You’d protect me?”

“Oh, I’d do more than just that.” His hand fell to your thigh. “I’d have everything you’ve ever been afraid of bowing to you by the end of the night.”

You swallowed dryly. “You didn’t answer my first question. What do you get out of helping me?”

His answer was nonverbal, but clear enough. With that same idle grin, he nodded toward the streaked window, to the building across the street. Your heart fell into your stomach. It was one of those sleazy, by-the-hour hotels – the sign missing more than a few letters and the parking lot as empty as the diner. It was the kind of place that you only went to for one thing, and you had a feeling Geto hadn’t found some miraculous second reason to want to be alone with you in one of those bug-infested rooms.

You weren’t sure why you said it. Maybe to buy yourself time. Maybe because you couldn’t stand the idea of being left in silence as what was left of your rational mind screamed at you to get out of there. “I don’t have any money.”

“It’ll be my treat.”

“What happens I refuse?”

“I kill everyone here,” His nails bit into exposed skin. “And then fuck you on this table while their bodies attract flies.”

You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so tired.

You might’ve done anything, if you could bring yourself to care about anything but keeping those awful creatures at a distance.

Stiffly, with your eyes shut and your teeth grit, you forced yourself to nod. Geto rewarded you with an impossibly wide grin, a breath of a laugh. “Smart little thing.”

This time, he didn’t pretend it was an option; reaching out, taking your trembling hand in his own, and squeezing so softly, you could almost convince yourself he was being gentle.

“It’s only a shame Satoru isn’t here to join us.”

[sometimesanalice]

Are You Gonna Be My Girl?

Summary: It’s been a couple of months since the two of you have started hooking up, and it’s no secret that Rooster is hung up on you. He takes the gamble and invites you to the yearly Halloween bash at the Hard Deck. The only problem is he can’t figure out what the hell you’re supposed to be. 

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 6.2K

Warnings: allusions to smut and Rooster being a simp (but what else is new 😂) (mdni)

The Black Keys’ “Howlin’ for You” playing loudly over the static-y speakers of the Hard Deck masking the sound of Rooster’s fingers as he impatiently drums them on top of the worn table, uncaring of the fact he’s out of tempo with the song.

Penny’s yearly Halloween Spooktacular has always been a fan favorite with those stationed at North Island. A name that Amelia had thrown shade at no less than five times as she worked on designing the event flier the afternoon that the Daggers had been bribed with free beers for coming in on their free time to help decorate.

There wasn’t an inch of the bar that was left untouched, and it wasn’t just that Bob had gotten carried away with the downy spider webbing. There were orange and purple string lights threaded around the circular mug racks, floating candles over the pool table, dangling bats and streamers, and an enthusiastic but poorly executed attempt at a balloon arch over the entry door.

The wispy fog covered punchbowl with a suspicious dark purple beverage bubbled away on the bartop, tendrils cascaded over the side only adding to the atmosphere. The stuff was so potent that Bradley was pretty sure it would put the jungle juice he’d thrown back in college to shame.

Rooster had been tasked with curating the playlist for tonight’s party, and if he’d been paying even a little bit of attention, he’d have known his choices were being well received by the boisterous crowd. But his attention is half split trying to listen to Hangman’s story about the Halloween prank gone wrong that left him with twelve stitches and half listening for-

Ding

He’s quick on the draw to pull out his phone from the chest pocket to check if it was his that went off.

When he’d arrived Nat, decked out in a sequined pink gown with a gun he wasn’t sure was fake or not strapped to her thigh for her Miss Congeniality costume, had given him a look of disdain and said what he was wearing was low effort even for him.

Rooster tucks his phone away with a disappointed sigh when there are zero new notifications on his lock screen.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you so whipped over a girl before, Bradshaw,” Hangman drawls, leaning into the gunslinging cowboy thing he has going on for the evening. His shirt is unbuttoned more than is strictly necessary, and is complete with a belt buckle that is larger than the state of Texas and too heavy looking to have been bought off Amazon.

Ding

Bradley fishes out his phone again from the pocket he’d put it back in only moments earlier.

You, 10:32pm: “u up?”

He grins.

“And we’ve lost him,” someone snarks, but he’s too busy punching in the password to unlock his phone to care.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:32pm: are you ever going to let that go?

You, 10:32pm: Mmm, no. You were so bad at being a fuckboy, it was funny.

You, 10:33pm: But in a very hot way, might I add. And clearly, it worked in your favor since I let you come over and hit it a second time.

Rooster snorts in amusement.

It was the first and last time he’d taken Fanboy’s advice and you teased him about it every opportunity you got. He had been a little rusty with the ins and outs of no-strings-attached sex with someone who wasn’t in the Navy. But he’d more than made up for it that same night by eating you out until your legs were shaking and you were weakly pushing his head away as he’d coaxed you into coming just one more time against his tongue.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:33pm: don’t remember hearing you laughing last night when your pussy was dripping all over my cock

He takes a sip of beer as he waits for your response.

You, 10:33pm: Look! You’re already so much better at sexting than you were when we met!

You, 10:34pm: “u up?” is still on the table, by the way. Not to brag, but I even have a pumpkin shaped pizza. 

You, 10:34pm: If you want to come over. 

If you want to come over. He shakes his head reading the text again.

As if he’d ever pass up on getting to spend time with you.

As if Rooster hadn’t been hooked on you since the moment he’d met you.

𝗧𝗪𝗢 𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗛𝗦 𝗔𝗚𝗢

As a general rule, Bradley hated grocery shopping.

He’s never had the patience for it, with the way that everyone is in their own world. He gets tired of always having to weave around people and the way that there always seems to be carelessly parked carts or people catching up standing between him and the items on his list.

Which is why when he noticed the parking lot was mostly empty on his way home, he decided to stop and spare himself the headache of doing it over the weekend when everyone else was out and just get it done.

He’d expected to be in and out in record time until the uniform lines of colorful cartons of ice cream caught his attention as he was tossing in a few bags of frozen chicken into his cart. Normally it was always so crowded that he never felt like he could take his time looking without being in someone’s way, that he’d skip it entirely and later try to convince himself that his Greek yogurt was just as good. But tonight since no one was around, he was taking his time.

Under the glare of the fluorescents, he stands there with the hum of the freezers competing with the too-twangy-for-his-taste country song playing over the speakers and debating his options when he feels an arm thread around his own, surprising him out of the pros and cons list he was making in his head between the healthier low-calorie choice versus the one he actually wanted.

“Hi, hello there.” Bradley glances over to see the prettiest pair of eyes looking up at him expectantly. “Do you mind playing along for a few minutes, there’s some creep who keeps trying to bother me.”

He looks over the top of your head to see some guy lingering at the end of the aisle. “The guy who looks like off-brand John Mayer?”

You scrunch your nose up. “That’d be the one.”

“How good are you at picking out ice cream flavors?” he asks, standing up straighter and pulling his shoulders back.

You blink at him in confusion before your lips tick up in a relieved smile. “Very good, as a matter of fact.”

“Great, you came to my rescue just in time.” Bradley guides you closer until you’re in front of him, lightly resting a hand on your hip the way he would if you were his girlfriend. “Is this ok?” he asks under his breath, only loud enough for you to hear.

When you nod, he feels the knot in his chest loosen. Because while he wants this to be convincing to the guy still loitering at the edge of the aisle, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

“First things first, we need to establish a baseline.” You point at the carton covered in cartoony looking chocolate chip cookies. “What’s your opinion on cookie dough?”

“Overrated,” he answers, not missing a beat. “I’d rather just eat the stuff out of a tube instead.”

You lean back into him a bit more. “Ooh, tough crowd,” you tease, your head finding his shoulder. “Ok then, mister tempting-fate-with-salmonella, what’s your stance on the great vanilla bean vs French vanilla debate?”

Bradley takes a quick look around to make sure they’re not blocking any other late night grocery shoppers. He pretends to ponder for a moment before responding, “I like the one with flecks.”

“A dignified choice.” You say it so solemnly that he can’t help but chuckle.

The easy back and forth banter goes on for a few more minutes. Sometimes you rib him about his answers and other times agree. It shouldn’t be so fun standing there in front of the cooler filled with tubs of ice cream, but it is. It was the last thing he could have expected when he’d decided to stop in at the last minute on his way home after hitting up the Hard Deck.

When he tells you the two choices he had been contemplating before you’d come up to him, you hum contemplatively and tap a finger against your cheek, “Well this changes everything if you’re dairy free.”

“Nah, just watching my figure. The containers are smaller and I have a sweet tooth.”

“Respectfully, I don’t think that’s something you need to worry about. You fill out those khakis just fine, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Rooster wonders if you can hear his self-satisfied grin. “Not every day I get a pretty girl telling me she was checking out my ass.”

You let out a small, amused scoff and all he feels is pleased with himself.

“I was not checking out your- oh.” The surprise in your voice has him leaning back enough to get a look at your face. “Wait, is he gone?” You peer around his shoulder, but don’t make a move to pull away from the gentle hold he has on you.

“He left around the time you were giving a very impassioned speech about how overlooked spumoni is. I probably should have mentioned it sooner, but you were making a pretty compelling case and I didn’t want to interrupt,” he says, trying to play it off casually and hoping that he didn’t just become the creep in this story when you tell it to your friends later.

“Oh, ok. That’s, um, that’s good.” You sound almost… disappointed? You take a step towards the case and he drops his arm back down to his side, already missing the feel of you under it. “Thank you so much for committing to the bit. Seriously, I truly appreciate it,” you say over your shoulder, opening the glass door.

He rubs the back of his neck, watching as you grab a carton out of the freezer, not sure whether to move on with the rest of his shopping or not. But when you turn back towards him, he’s hit with the full force of your smile, feeling it all the way to his toes.

“Rocky Road,” you say, setting the carton into his cart. “It has peanuts in it, which is a nutrient-dense food and an excellent plant-based source of protein. There’s collagen from the gelatin in the marshmallows. And chocolate has antioxidants in it and is known to trigger the holy trinity of happy brain chemicals. It’s basically a superfood.”

Rooster grins. “I don’t think it works like that.”

“No, unfortunately, it really doesn’t,” you agree, playfully leaning a hip against his cart. “But it’s more fun this way, don’t you think?”

He’s so fucking charmed by you and he doesn’t even know your name yet.

While he’s glad he was there at the right time and got to play a small part in deterring that guy from continuing to hassle you, he kind of wishes the two of you could have met under different circumstances, because he’d jump at the chance of being able to score a date with you. He sighs and shakes the thought out of his head.

“Would you like me to walk you to your car?” Rooster offers, ready to abandon his groceries for a few extra minutes with you.

“Oh wow.” That mischievous gleam that had been in your eyes changes to something softer. You tilt your head, taking him in with a thoughtful expression on your face. “You’re one of those rare genuinely a gentleman types, aren’t you? Like the kind who always walks closest to the curb and mows their elderly neighbor’s yard without being asked.” Bradley just lifts a shoulder. He’s used to looking out for other people, it’s just something he’s always done. “And they say chivalry is dead,” you muse, contemplatively, “I should let you know though, knock-off John Mayer is my ex.”

He feels his hackles rise up immediately and scans the area again to double check the guy isn’t still hanging around. “Is he harassing you?”

“Oh no, it was only an unfortunate fluke, I promise,” you say, patting his hand that’s gripping the handle of the shopping cart reassuringly. “He’s just a jackass who thought he could cheat on me and that I’d still take him back.” Bradley grunts at that, even more irritated than he was before. “But he was still trying to test the waters, even after I told him I was seeing someone,” you continue, with a roll of your eyes, “Which was technically true- even if I am in fact single right now- because that’s when I saw you over here gazing very intensely into the freezer case like you’d been personally victimized by Ben and Jerry.”

“You’re out of his league anyways,” he rasps. 

There’s no way in hell Bradley would fumble a girl like you.

You grin widely, clearly amused at his annoyance on your behalf. “He was a tool with an overinflated ego and a flat ass.” Rooster barks out a surprised laugh. “And you’re so much hotter than him, so I really lucked out there with you as my knight in ironed  khakis,” you say unabashedly, reaching out to straighten out his already perfectly straight name tag. “You really went above and beyond for your country there helping me win the break up.”

“I don’t think you needed me for that part. It’s pretty clear you came out on top.” His eyes dart down to your hand on the cart, like you forgot it was still resting on top of his. “But I was more than happy to help all the same.” He takes a half step closer into your space, deciding just to go for it. “I’m thinking we should keep up the ruse though, you know, just in case he is lurking by the pasta or something.”

You quirk a knowing eyebrow at him. “Is that so?”

“I could also use your professional opinion on cereal. That is if you still have some more shopping to do,” he suggests, nodding to your mostly empty handbasket.

There’s no question that he’s caught your interest, not with the way you’re looking at him. That smile you’re wearing tells a story of its own. “What a coincidence, that just happens to be my forte.”

“I had a feeling you might be the right girl for the job.” Bradley takes your basket from you and sets it in his cart and gestures for you to lead the way.

He learns your name around the same time he does about your hottake on Frosted Cheerios.

And later that night, his groceries are packed away in your fridge as the container of Rocky Road the two of you were sharing melts on your coffee table- the condensation puddling on the marble surface reflecting the credits rolling across the TV screen- as you ride him on your couch. Your hands tightly fisted in his hair and your breathy whines in his ear urging him to fuck you harder and faster until you come with his name in your mouth.

And in the morning, he gets your number over a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

The two of you have been fooling around for a couple of months now.

On the nights Rooster wasn’t fucking you, he was getting himself off to the thought of you and wishing you were in bed with him. You’ve never been to his place, so he doesn’t even have the bonus of that bright citrus scent of you lingering on his sheets on the nights he spends alone.

The sex was great. Mind-blowing. You were loud and enthusiastic and gave just as good as you got. Bradley found your confidence sexy as hell. You were the type of girl who knew exactly what she wanted and he was always up for the challenge of finding new ways to make your back arch and toes curl.

But he was just as much of a fan of the parts that came before and after getting you spasming around his cock.

He liked the way your mind worked. You were always telling him about something interesting you’d read, because you were naturally curious about the world around you. You asked him thoughtful questions about his job and his life in the Navy, but not in the way he was used to from the tag chasers that frequented the Hard Deck. There was no mistaking you were asking because you wanted to know more about him, and not fixated on the shiny sheen of his golden aviator wings.

Rooster has never laughed as much as he has with you. In those moments between catching your sighs with his mouth and waiting for the knock on the door for whatever late-night craving was being delivered, you’d have him laughing and grinning until his cheeks ached.

The closest he’s ever gotten to taking you on a proper date was that one late night drive-thru run when everything on delivery apps were closed. You’d looked like his favorite daydream sitting there under the glow of the streetlamp in the nearly empty parking lot in a shirt of his that he must have accidently left behind after a hook up.

That night was the most real it’s ever felt. And he wanted more nights just like that.

He liked the way you always seemed to have a documentary to recommend for any given topic, he has a list on his phone and has been working his way through them. He liked the way the glasses you wore sometimes seemed slightly too big for your face because it was cute the way you’d constantly push them back up your nose. He liked that you texted in full sentences with complete and proper punctuation.

Bradley could already imagine how tonight would most likely go.

He’d dip out of the party early and come to your place. Your tongue in his mouth and your greedy little hand tugging to get his belt undone before he’d even made it through the door. The two of you going at it until someone has to tap out- which he is smug in the fact that more often than not it’s usually you- now that he knows all the best ways to pull orgasm after orgasm out of you. Sometimes the two of you order in, and other nights you’ll pass a bowl of ice cream or cereal back and forth over the island in your kitchen where he gets to hear you laugh and tease him and tell him about your day. Then do it all over again and once you’re thoroughly spent, he’ll hold you as you fall asleep. And then in the morning he’ll press a kiss to your cheek and take one more look back at you before leaving through the same door he’d shown up at only hours before.

And that was fine for now, but he wanted more of you. He didn’t want to be just a casual hook up, he wanted to date you.

He wanted to be soft launched and hard launched, or whatever it was that Mickey was talking about that night he’d taken his misguided advice and sent the much teased “u up?” text. He wanted to block people in the chip aisle of the grocery store as you talked him into getting some crazy flavor, turning his least favorite chore into the highlight of his week. He wanted knockoff John Mayer to see he got the girl and knew how to treat her right.

He wanted you to be his girl.

“Aren’t you too old to be in a situationship, Bradshaw?” Jake asks, interrupting his thoughts.

“Fuck off,” Rooster grumbles, his eyebrows furrowed and his thumbs still hovering over the screen. A couple minutes have ticked by since your last text as he sits there stewing. He knocks back the remainder of his beer, it’s mostly foam, “I think I’m gonna head out.”

“No, you’re not. Bob hasn’t even performed the dance routine to “Thriller” yet,” Nat says, pinning him to his stool with a look, “Come on, Bradley, just invite her here.” She reaches overs and squeezes his shoulder. “You’ve been seeing her for a couple months now. You’re clearly into her, and you wouldn’t disappear on us as much as you do if she wasn’t into you too. This is a low stakes environment with everything going on and people off having fun doing their own thing. And the two of you can still go and do whatever you’re going to do after.”

“I don’t know, Phoenix, she might dump him when she sees what he’s wearing at a Navy bar on Halloween,” Hangman drawls, unhelpfully, grinning around that damn toothpick.

“Shut it, Bagman,” they both say simultaneously.

“Just throw it out there and see what she says.” Nat slides out of her seat, the beads on her dress scraping against the edge of the stool. “Now, we’re going to let you panic in peace for a few minutes while we get another round.”

“We’re?” Jake asks slowly, deliberately drawing out the word.

“Yep,” she confirms, the look on her face leaving no room for arguments as she tugs him off his seat. “And you’re paying, let’s go.”

Bradley scrubs a hand over his face, but not before he sees Nat punching Seresin in the arm on their way to the bar.

He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous all of a sudden, he’s never had an issue asking girls out before. Not that he’s ever had to work that hard for it, but still.

His knee bounces on the foot rest as he works out what to say. He types out the message and gives it a quick once over and hits send before he can overthink it.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:42pm: I’d never say no to you or a pumpkin shaped pizza. But I’m actually at a Halloween party right now at the bar near base with some friends. And I’m thinking you should stop by.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:42pm: I’m sorry it’s a last minute invite, but it’s always a good time and I think you would have fun. I’d like to see you, if “ur up” for it.

He tries not to dwell on the fact he just double texted you, a thing he didn’t know he should be worried about before Fanboy warned him about doing it.

It’s like he’s been hit by lightning the way he shoots up in his seat when he sees those little dots appear on the screen. Rooster holds his breath when they start and stop a few times, each time they disappear and come back again his heart pounds a little harder in his chest.

You, 10:44pm: I’m all in. What’s the address?

All the bubbles from the beer he’d had earlier swarm and rush to his head at once as he drops you a pin.

Nat pushes a shot of bourbon towards him across the table when they return. “Did it go well?”

He nods. “She’s on her way.”

“Good, because you know Halloween is my favorite holiday and your sulking was bringing the vibe down.”

He chuckles, there’s no way he’s beating those whipped allegations now.

She clinks her own shot with his and they throw them back together, the warmth of the expensive tasting liquor sticks behind his sternum.

The next thirty minutes are the longest of Rooster’s life. His head swings to the front door every time it opens, hoping that it’ll be you outlined by the purple, green, and orange string lights.

When he sees you come through the swiftly deflating balloon arch scanning the bar for him, he almost does a double take.

You’ve got on a black and white polka dot top, the cuffs are a flared ruffle that are tied with a bow at your wrist. Your skirt is plain black, but the way it hugs your hips leaves little to the imagination. He can’t even begin to guess what you’re dressed as because other than the night he met you, it’s the most clothes he’s ever seen you in.

Excluding those little silky matching sets you’re usually wearing when he comes over. But those don’t usually stay on too long before they end up on the floor of your living room. Or bedroom. Or kitchen.

He usually has to leave before you, so he’s usually headed out your front door while you’re still wrapped up in one of those fluffy white towels you have. He’s enjoying seeing you here in his favorite bar in that outfit and heading towards him like you’re just as happy to see him as he is to see you.

“Huh, if I'm not mistaken I’m pretty sure that’s what I sent you into work in this morning,” you say, grinning up at him and lightly tugging on the zipper of his flight suit. “Are you supposed to be a Walk of Shame?”

Bradley wraps an arm around you because he can’t help himself. “Please, we all know it’s called the Stride of Pride. It’s never a shame when I get laid.” He presses his fingertips into the swell of the top of your ass before leaning in close, his lips brushing against your ear, “Plus, I didn’t have time to go home and grab my costume because someone lured me back into bed this morning.”

He had to do 200 extra push-ups and stay behind to do paperwork as penance for being late the third time that week, but it was worth it. But by the time he was finished, the sun was already well on its way to setting. If he’d been a bit more forward thinking he would have brought the costume he had planned with him, instead of thinking he’d have time to swing by his house to change. Bradley didn’t think it was too much of a let down for you, not with the way you’re looking at him. It’s that same heated way that tells him you’re remembering your reaction to it the first time you’d ever seen him in it.

“Sounds like poor planning on your part,” you tease, your finger tracing the edge of his nametag. “I can’t believe you’re wearing your work clothes to a Halloween party, Rooster.”

“Ok, funny girl. Tell me then, what’re you supposed to be?” He takes a step back and gives you a blatant once over, taking his time admiring the shape of you from your head to your toes in some wicked looking heels and back up again.

Maybe if things went well tonight, you’d leave them on for him later when he gets you alone.

“That’s for me to know, and for you to spend the night guessing,” you smirk, the curve of your mouth promising mischief. “But I think you’ll like it once you figure it out.”

“Bradshaw, are you going to introduce us to your sexy librarian?” Hangman hollers, waving the two of you over back to the table with his hat. Bradley doesn’t hear as much as he sees the oof that comes out of the blonde when Phoenix sends an elbow into his side.

Rooster glances at you with a raise of his eyebrow and you shake your head. Not a sexy librarian then.

“I take it you know the rodeo clown?”

He tips his head back and laughs, already looking forward to telling Hangman. “I do. And Gracie Lou Freebush over there too.”

You wave over at Nat, gesturing to her costume and mouth obsessed, before turning back to him to ask, “Is that gun real?”

“I’m too afraid to ask,” he jokes, only half kidding. “C’mon let me get you a drink, I have an in with the bartender.”

“Are you trying to show off for me, Bradley?”

“Definitely.” He reaches out and toys with the end of the bow on your sleeve. “Is it working, Leslie Knope?”

You just send him that devastating smile of yours and thread your fingers through his. “I think I'm going to have so much fun with this tonight.”

“But full disclosure, you see Napoleon Bonaparte?” He points over to where Mav is behind the bar wearing tasseled shoulder pads pouring pints behind the bar next to a bedazzled Penny in a white neoclassical style dress. “That’s my godfather and his fiancée.”

You school the surprise on your face quickly. “Bradley Bradshaw, are you a nepobaby?”

“That’s a story for another time.” He chuckles, carefully winding his way around a Fred Flintstone and a Deviled Egg to the bar. “Be warned though, the Blue Slime Sipper is lethal. I had four last year and put on an a cappella performance of the Ghostbusters theme song.”

“Please tell me someone has a video of that,” you laugh.

“I called in every favor I had to get all evidence of that particular performance erased.”

At the bar, you order two Blue Slime Sippers looking the picture of innocence as you admire the giant spider affixed to the top of the bar by the till, even though he knows better.

One for him and one for you.

He briefly introduces you to Penny and Mav, trying to keep it casual. Thankfully, it’s busy enough that there’s not more time for small talk or jokes about the frosted tips he had when he was thirteen.

Their guess at a modern day I Love Lucy was also met with a no.

But he’s pretty sure Mav’s attempt to stealthily shoot him two thumbs up after you get your neon blue colored drinks fails based on the way your lips are pressed together in an attempt to smother the smile that he sees toying at the corners of your mouth.

Over the course of the night, it becomes a game that the rest of the team joins in on as he introduces them to the girl he’s been hung up on for weeks.

You help him kick Payback and Fanboy’s asses at the Eyeball Beer Pong that Penny had set up outside on the deck.

“Damn, Lawyer Barbie has an arm,” Fanboy says, the spring of the Slingy Dog costume sagging sadly between him and Payback, watching as you sink another doodled on ping-pong ball into a cup.

“I think we need a rematch,” Payback countered after their loss, “Flight Attendants have great hand-eye coordination, it’s an unfair advantage.”

Both guesses were met with a no.

When you side with Nat over Death Becomes Her as the best, but most underrated, Halloween movie, she throws her hands up in victory, “Thank you! Finally, someone with good taste… Olivia Pope?”

It’s another no, but he’s happy to see how much fun you’re having with his friends.

Between the riotous costume contest voting, and the one-man performance of “Thriller” that Bob puts on, and the pumpkin tic-tac-toe, Rooster has a lot of fun making his own guesses.

Except for the time he offers up Miss Bliss, he nearly chokes on his Cauldron Cooler when you ask him, “Is that a porn thing?”

Which in hindsight, he probably should have specified from the show Saved by the Bell, that he only knew because he’d been into Tiffani Amber Thiessen as a kid, but he doesn’t get to because you’re too busy delightedly laughing at his near spit-take.

He sticks close to your side, an arm slung over your shoulder or around your waist. There’s a moment when he gets worried he might be smothering you, but then you’d lean your head on his shoulder and he figured you were right where you wanted to be.

The two of you step outside when the Monster Mash smashburger contest starts up, the song following you to the sun-bleached wooden deck.

There are less people out here now, a few people are stationed behind the ping-pong table and others are seated on the picnic tables chatting and swapping stories. Most of his friends had stayed inside to cheer on Coyote’s attempt to hold onto his burger eating crown.

It’s the first time all night that he has you on your own, and while he appreciates how welcoming his friends are with wanting to make you feel included and slipping in more than a few jokes at his expense, he’s ready to have you to himself for a while.

But first.

“Are you ever going to tell me what you’re supposed to be?” He runs a finger along the ruffle down the front of your shirt. “I think I’ve lost count of how many failed attempts I’ve made now and It’s starting to take a toll on my ego.”

“How about this, you tell me what you were supposed to be and then I’ll tell you what my costume is,” you offer, playfully.  

You’re still toying with him like a cat does a string and he doesn’t mind a single bit.

He steps in close, winding an arm around your low back pulling you in close. “James Bond,” he says, enjoying the way your eyes light up.

“Now that’s something I would love to see,” you murmur, running your hand along his arm. “Not that the flight suit isn’t working for me.” He grins smug because he knows exactly how much this flight suit works for you.

Rooster shakes his head amused. “I’ll put it on for you later if you want.” He grins smug because he knows exactly how much this flight suit works for you, but you haven’t seen him in a tux yet. “Now, I’ve been dying to know since the moment you walked in, what are you dressed as?”

You grin, wide and bright, like you’ve been waiting for this all night.

“Your future girlfriend, I thought it was pretty obvious.”

Bradley doesn’t waste a moment bringing both of his hands to your face and getting his lips on yours. A surprised noise escapes from the back of your throat before you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him even closer.

Your full lips soften under his demanding ones, the sensual slide of your lips against his has him desperate for more. His tongue chases after the sweetness of your mouth. He can’t get enough of it.

He can’t get enough of you.

“So I take it, you like my costume then?” you ask against his lips.

“I’m about to go swipe that trophy from Cousin Itt because yours is the best one here by far.” You giggle when he pulls you back in to kiss you again- or tries to. “C’mon, sweetheart, I need you to cooperate here. I’m trying to kiss my girlfriend.”

But then his teeth click against yours because now you’ve got him smiling too.

You skim another soft kiss against his mouth and lean back. “You know, I did have a back-up costume, just in case things didn’t go well.” You put a finger up and twist a little in his arms to rummage in your purse. And when you turn back towards him you’ve got a bright red clown nose on your face.

“Are you kidding me? The only clown here is Seresin.” He chuckles and gently pulls it from off your nose. “I’ve been trying to figure out how lock this down for weeks now. That tux was going to be my ace. It’s about a half size too small, but I figured it might do the trick to make things more official. It’s a good thing I’ve got a girl who knows what she wants.”

“Don’t think you’re off the hook, Bradshaw. I still want to see you in it.”

“I can make that happen. Especially since that means I get to take you home with me tonight.” He drops a kiss on your cheek. “I’ve got an idea about what we can be next year though.”

“It’s not even midnight yet, and you’re thinking about next year?”

Bradley shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m all about playing the long game. Just want to give you something to look forward to.”

“Let’s hear it then,” you say, giving him an expectant look.

“Considering how we met and all, I think contestants from Supermarket Sweep would be a solid choice for us. There’s nothing sexier than some khakis and sweatshirts.”

You look delighted and amused and like his.

“Done. You know I am a big fan of you in a pair of khakis.”

Rooster tugs you to him again needing to taste your grin. He hears a cheer go up inside of the bar, probably for whoever won the contest, but he pretends it’s for him.

After all, he’s the one who got the girl.

Happy Halloween! I'm dropping a smitten Rooster into everyone's candy bucket this year! Thank you for reading!

You can read my other stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken  @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[emmyrosee]

SAKUSA ANGST??????❤️

By the time Kiyoomi gets to home, the moon is halfway past the skyline and high in space, and the bright light trickles through the blinds, carving your disappointed features while Kiyoomi jumps at the sight of you, standing firmly in the living room.

"Jeez," he snickers, putting his keys on the counter. "You scared me, baby, what're you doing up-"

"I know, Kiyoomi."

His brows furrow in confusion, but behind his dark pools, you see shame. And his eyes always gave him away. “What? What’re you talking about?”

You blink lazily, “I saw Hinata. You weren’t with him. Told me you never even texted him.” You shake your head, “if you’re going to commit adultery, make sure you have all your bases covered.”

He stays silent for a moment, letting his eyes cast down and avoiding your judgmental, hurt gaze. A hand comes up to scratch the back of his head, pick at a hangnail, jam into his pockets, anything and everything to not meet your betrayed looks.

“How long?”

“Baby, I-“

“Do not pull that manipulative shit on me,” you say exhaustedly. “Don’t start with that nonsense. I want to know how long. And I want to know who.”

He finally meets your eyes, “I made a mistake-“

“No no. New couples make mistakes,” you snap, hoping that by yelling out your frustrations you won’t cry the hot tears swelling in your waterline. “We’ve been together three years, you don’t get to make those kinds of mistakes, you don’t get to tell me not to worry about one person, then cheat on me.”

When he slowly lowers his hands, guilt struck in his gaze, you feel bile rising up your throat.

“It’s… your PR manager. Isn’t it?” You chuckle. “Your “work babe”? The one you assured me was over and done with?”

“No no, you’ve got to listen to me-“

“After I specifically begged you to tell me it wasn’t true, after you assured me nothing funny was going down, after you told me you’d gone to their house to fire them-“

He looks away. Darts his eyes again. Your hands come up to cover your mouth, “oh my god… you… went there to be with them- YOU WENT THERE TO BE WITH THEM WHILE I WAS HOME? WAILING OVER YOU?!”

He says nothing to defend himself, and you scream and jump up and out of your seat, grabbing the nearest pillow and smacking him with it. He shields himself with his arms, ducking slightly from your swings, but he doesn’t say anything. Nothing to change your mind, sway your thinking or deny, deny, deny anything.

“You lied to me!” You sob, finally losing your composure. “You lied square to my face, for what! For THEM?!”

“Baby, listen-“

“DONT FUCKING CALL ME THAT, SAKUSA!” You shriek, throwing the pillow down and meeting his teary eyes with your enraged ones. “Don’t FUCKING start with me!”

He calls your name in an attempt to calm you down, extending his arms to create distance, “it was a mistake, I made mistakes.”

“And that’s a crock of shit.”

“I thought I was missing something, and I thought they could give it to me! Honest! It meant nothing, just meaningless dates and kisses to try and fill something inside that I needed, and-

“You are not helping yourself right now, Sakusa,” you pant.

“I wanted to leave them, I swear on my mother-“

“And you couldn’t manage to do that.”

“So now what?” He chokes. “So-So-So are we just done? Three years just gone?”

“Because of you.”

“I’m not going to let this happen,” he sobs, collapsing to his knees and wrapping his arms around your legs. “Please, don’t leave me. I’ll fire them. You can go with me.”

“Clearly firing them isn’t going to make a difference,” you snarl. “Since your tongues been down their throat and god knows what else.” You shake him off your legs and continue to look down at him in distain, “I’ll have the boys send for my things. I’m staying with Osamu. Do not contact me anymore.” You shake him off your legs, and he looks up at you like a kicked dog.

“No-“

“Yeah, you don’t get to say no, anymore,” you snap. “Since clearly you had a hard enough time doing it for them. I’m taking control of the situation now. You will never make a fool out of me again.”

“Please,” he begs, “I hated it, I hated all of it, I-“

“Stop lying, Kiyoomi,” you shake your head. “It’s not worth it. You’re not going to sway me.”

At that, Kiyoomi stops. His eyes blink a line of tears down, his hands rest in his lap, and his bottom lip trembles. You take a deep breath, “please let Osamu in when he comes for my belongings.”

He says nothing. He merely continues to stare up at you desperately, pleadingly, and you scoff before making your way down the hall to grab your packed bag. “Unreal,” you hiss. “You are unbelievable.”

“You don’t have to leave,” he chokes. “You can stay here, I’ll leave, I’ll go to Bokuto’s, he’ll-“

“He’ll let you in and stay with him after you have the nerve to cheat on me?” You scoff. “Bokuto is not an idiot. He’s not going to just ignore the shitty things you do because you’re his teammate.”

Kiyoomi knows that if you walk through that door, you’ll never come back. You know it’s tearing him up inside, you see it in his exhausted features and you know it in your soul.

Good.

[chaotic-minds-think-alike]

Finally finishing all these guys we’ve got charts and headcanons! (Long post)

(Height)

(Wingspan)

(Body length & basic shapes I used) (it might be odd but ignore any detail on the back, the shapes are for general body shape)

Headcanons:

Seawings: - Colors range from red and purple to yellow - Aquatic is based off areas of bioluminescence rather than singular scales (because no one wants to draw all of those) - Although they average small compared to the other tribes, gigantism is more common - Wing bioluminescence gene is always present but for some doesn't show, thus aquatic doesn't utilize the wings

Rainwings: - Can change the texture of their scales alongside color - Weakest bite due to their fangs, probably why they're vegetarian - Mimic interesting behaviors - Have forked tongues

Mudwings: - Colors range from olive green to purple-ish red - Very resilient - Able to breathe fire regardless of body temperature, the heat of the flame depends on body temp - Their horns constantly grow and sometimes have to be cut due to dangerous growing patterns - Love gnawing on things, tough foods like jerky is popular - The horn covers of fallen siblings are harvested and turned into instruments to remember them by

Leafwings: - Colors range from gold to teal (and pink to olive green during cold seasons) - Can appear to have false eyes - Bug-like just like the other Pantalan residents (because they're just some weird outlier like what is going on here) - Leafspeak doesn't actually allow them to hear voices from plants but rather increase the sensitivity of their antennae which pick up on the changes in plants - In colder seasons, regions that have deciduous trees influence leafwings in that their scales change into warm tones similar to fallen leaves for camouflage but this also negatively impacts one's leafspeak ability; this doesn't apply to evergreen leafwings however

Hivewings: - Colors range from hot pink to olive green - Can appear to have false eyes - Have elbowed antennae just like their "cousins", Hymenoptera (wasps, bees, ants) - Tend to disregard personal space/get close out of habit, being close means better temp regulation and better communication - All hivewings have stingers, wrist stingers, and a venomous bite but it largely depends on preference of which they choose and like muscles, they can be exercised to become deadly weapons - They're not capable of "emitting a horrible stench"

Icewings: - Colors range from white to pale indigo - Melanism is still very rare but more likely in icewings - Can be iridescent in any color, especially visible in lighter scaled individuals - The scales on their face is very fine and is flushed with blood which darkens the area and allows them to see in the snow by absorbing light, otherwise the glare from the sun reflecting off would be a hinderance - Their wings are thin and thus have visible veins most of the time - Idk how to describe their scales other than its kinda like basalt formations - From the side they appear large but are actually thin and flexible - They can freeze to death if they've gone without cold for a long time and then reintroduced too quickly - In hybridization, they have dominant genes, partially because the animus gene - The extra mane of horns can appear randomly on the body in singular spikes, they also make a clink sound when they collide as if they're made of ice, making a pretty scary rattle when disturbed

Nightwings: - Colors range from orange to purple - Albinism is still very rare but more likely in nightwings - Dwarfism is more common - Teardrop scales are always present, highlighted when the dragon has powers regardless of type - Pitbull ready to bite kids - They CAN hang upside down as the books suggest but not for long - By taking dust baths, they dull their scales to reflect less light and blend in better in the dark - Have white fire but cant breathe for long due to how hot it is (this is mainly to add onto the mysterious factor of em and I always liked the idea) - Due to eye sensitivity, they hate sudden bright lights and will close their eyes as they breathe fire

Silkwings: - Can have black or dark accents but never as a whole body color unless they've hybridized - Wing shapes vary widely - Can appear to have false eyes - Flamesilk is rarer than one might think - Very flexible and have strong tails used as a sort of 5th limb in climbing - Albino or melanistic dragons still keep their iridescence - Silk is emitted through a spinneret on the chin rather than the wrists - Prefer to travel in pairs (instinct)

Sandwings: - Colors range from red to olive green - Dark patters often mimic a snake's - Horse-like in complexion - Alongside their snake-like appearance, they have pit organs - Tend to move like birds - Poor eyesight but good hearing - Their horns angle upwards sort of like a bull

Skywings: - Colors range from red to yellow (and green because skywings are meant to be your typical fire breathing dragon which is most often depicted to be red but can also be green) - Tend to move like birds - Weaker than they appear - Green skywings are incapable of being or having flamescales - Their horns constantly grow and have to be filed down - A flamescale cant melt rock or metal by touch alone, only via fire is it possible - It's not that they don't want flamescales that they kill them, it's more of a mercy killing because of how lonely their life can be

[cherry-leclerc]

don’t lock the door ☆ cs55

genre: fluff, humor, smut, angst, thriller/suspense, mentions of depression, mentions of suicide, mentions of homicide, erotic literature, tragedy

word count: 9k

An oleander is beautiful—yet deadly. You’re beautiful—yet deadly. But Carlos has always been gentle, and has always known how to take care of things he loves. And even if he doesn’t, he’s willing to learn, just for you. But you can’t outrun secrets. Not when they have everything to do with the only thing he adores—you.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+... fingering, riding, car sex

STOP AND READ:

The story you are about to read is not meant to be admired or looked up to. Regularly, the types of fics that I like to present to all of you are light, humorous, and sweet. While I feel that this story does have occasional glimpses of that, it also deals with heavy topics such as; suicide, depression, and homicide. At the end of the day, I care about all my readers, so if any of you feel like this is not something for you then you are always welcomed to head over to my masterlist for much lighter reads. You all know me by now, so you must know that sometimes I like to mix a story of traditional love with a dash of real life struggles, such as trauma and guilt, in this case. With that, I hope you enjoy word for word.

cherry here!...did you miss me????

Tension is normally one’s enemy. It’s fairly simple, you try your best to avoid what makes your skin crawl. Isn’t that how the story goes?

Not quite. 

There’s tension, yes, but it's only because you’re the opposite sex. Nothing beyond that. It could also be because you’re both introduced to each other as a pair of miserable singles. Lewis is the person you share in common.

She’s a close friend, he proclaims as you two shake hands. The touch is sticky, just like hot glue— and for a minute—it feels like a knife cuts this invisible strain in half. He lets himself salivate over your lioness stare; dark, sharp, amorous. You lean towards him just the same; dominant, mature, suggestive.

I’ve seen you race.

He hums, still attached to your desirable touch. Yeah? Why haven’t I seen you then?

Fingers press sternly against his warm skin, as if to provoke him more than he already feels himself falling into. It should be alarming the way his mind slips into a frenzy because of it, but likes it. The rush. 

Maybe because I wasn’t rooting for you.

There. Right then, he disconnects. I was hoping that wouldn’t be the case.

You grin. Well, now you know. 

“You know what? Mingle—”

“Who says mingle?” you and Carlos question at the same time, judgemental eyes staring coldly. 

Lewis blushes. “I-I-Is that not a thing anymore?” Silence. “Fuck, I really am getting old...”

The night consists of mimosas, because according to you, it reminds you of your late-mother. “She liked something fruity, but also fun enough to make her head spin. It was entertaining to watch.”

“How so?”

“She’d ramble on and on. Slurred about her dreams.” A sad smile. “That’s the only reason why I ever found out she wanted to become an author. She was fifty—five decades too old—but she said she wanted one last adventure before retiring. It didn’t even matter if she made it onto the New York Times Best Seller list.”

The way your eyes even out, round and almost doughy, makes him trip for a second because this is not the same girl he shook hands with nearly three hours ago. No, this version of you was almost childlike, but he supposes that's how everyone who loses a parent becomes. 

It comes out shy—closed off—your laugh. As if you just caught yourself being too vulnerable. That was always the worst. “Look at me making you my therapist. I have got to stop doing that.” 

His mouth opens lamely, ghostly scoff sitting upon his lips. And if it were to be released, it wouldn’t hurt your feelings. It was a weird thing to note. “I like hearing you talk.”

A beat. “We’ve only just met.”

Carlos grins, crinkles tracing the corner of his eyes like some beauty. “Then let's meet some more.”

The opportunity is there, the kind you’ve been looking for. With a sheepish smile, you nod. “I should warn you though, I’m a bit of a mess.”

Finally, the scoff escapes. And like envisioned, you laugh at the sound.

“Consider me warned.”

-

He fucked you that same night in the back of his car. It was late, so dark that you barely even had the chance to register the fact that you squirted all over his vintage Ferrari. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he pants as he snaps his hips up again, fast motion making you head loll bad. You wonder what he means, but as soon as his long fingers circle your swollen bud, you’re just as good as gone.

He asked you out an hour later, when he dropped you off right in front of your apartment. You happily accepted, unable to hide your excitement. 

Your smile falters. “Give me a reason as to why I should say yes.”

“Um, well, you sort of already said…yes?”

The confusion that settles onto his handsome features makes you glow with satisfaction. “I could always change my mind. Pretend this night never even happened.”

Panic rushes harshly against his shoulders. He doesn’t even know why he cares so much, but he does. 

Vulnerability is a bitch. 

“Huh,” he hums, relaxing against his seat, head hitting the expensive cushion. And you can see it. The challenge. He clicks his tongue, bored all of a sudden. “Listen, I want you, but I certainly don’t need you.”

You realize right there and then—you met your match. 

You realize right there and then—you two share the same green pride. 

You realize right there and then—

“It was nice getting to know you.” 

-

The only reason you’re even friends with someone like Lewis is because your mother married rich.

Filthy fucking rich. 

Then, somehow, married richer by her third and last marriage. The man was twisted, but you never knew just how much. Not for a very long time. 

He dabbled in stocks, or some boring shit like that, and later invested in some other crap. Somewhere along the line, you met the Brit. 

The same Brit who now hisses at you through the phone. 

“God damn it, what happened? Weren’t you two getting along?”

You sigh, rubbing your feet together as you admire the way the navy blue paint covers your pedicured nails. Stormy clouds match your mood as you shake the bottle of pills that lay on top of your desk. 

“He’s too vain.”

He groans. “You my dear, dear friend, are looking into a mirror then, I suppose.”

A sharp gasp. “Are you insinuating I’m the same?”

“If the shoe fits…”

“May I remind you that you sit and stare at yourself for God knows how long before any race? Newflash, dickhead, you’re going to sweat, look like shit, and one out of ten times, you’re going to win.”

“I see I triggered something.” He sighs heavily. The sound tells you he’s not really upset or anything, but more so worried. Ever since she died, you’ve been that way. 

Snappy. Defensive. 

“Hey, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be. I know you.” 

And although he can’t see, you still smile fondly. Rattling the bottle of antidepressants, you inch up higher and higher onto your chair until you face your own reflection. Shattered glass stares back at you as you feverishly look down. 

“Do you still have an extra pass to this weekend's race?”

-

There had to be something wrong with you. Everyone could tell, and quite frankly, you could agree. Would you admit to it out loud? No, now that’s something different. Or maybe you’re just odd. That would also make sense. Whatever it was, it would explain as to why everyone around you screams with excitement as the fast cars fly by. You, on the other hand, simply stare with straight lips and empty eyes.

While all clap cheerfully when Lewis finishes on the third step, you cross your arms. While everyone runs out of the Mercedes garage to declare front row, you drag your feet slowly to the last. 

While Carlos makes eye contact as he lifts his trophy—notably bigger than the Brits—you yawn.

You’re not impressed.

She’s not impressed, the Spaniard remembers thinking to himself as he smiles wider towards the stacks of cameras that turn him temporarily blind. He selfishly thinks you’re here for him, but he knows that's straight bullshit. Truth be told, it didn’t seem like you were here to support your friend either.

“It’s been so long,” Lewis huffs in disbelief as you stare across with vacant eyes. To him, you’re simply jetlagged. “Can you believe it?”

An exhale. “You did good.” Extending your legs outward, you admire the black tiles that shine back brighter than if it were to be white. “Drinks. On me.”

The Brit laughs. “Deal.”

-

Somewhere close by, they play jazz. 

“Pretty,” you softly speak as you connect your lips to the glass. The live band sways back and forth, only adding to the charm you seem to like. And you like it a lot. “Dance with me.”

Lewis snickers. “I love you to death, but I’m gonna have to go with no.”

You frown. “Come on. I never ask you for anything.”

“You were born with a golden spoon and have used retinol since you were ten, you’re not allowed to ask for anything when you’ve already had everything.”

“Yeah…well not this.” You’re secretly envious of every lady in the room. The way they beam with sincere smiles at their husbands. Boyfriends? Flings? Affairs? Who cares honestly, you were jealous nonetheless. 

The Mercedes driver watches as your fingers lazily tap against your lap, as if signaling you’re free. Guilt slithers down his neck as he sighs in defeat. “Fi–”

“Nice seeing you two here.”

Lewis wants to cry with utter thankfulness as Carlos inches closer with a lousy grin. “Hey! Oh God—hey.” You blink. “Wh-what are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining, of course, because I’m not.”

The Spanirad shrugs. “I won. Wanted to celebrate, I suppose.” Brown eyes flicker towards you like thunder and suddenly you feel naked under his gaze. You swallow. “You look nice.”

And there it is again—tension.

He cocks his head to the side, almost as if waiting for a compliment of your own. Instead, he finds himself being ignored. Crossing your legs, you lift the empty glass up as the bartender hurries for a refill. 

Finally, Lewis speaks up. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay—”

“Who says hay?” you and the brunette spit out with snarkiness. You bite back a smile while he releases a chuckle. 

The Brit stands up, chugging the rest of his drink as he waves you two off. “I’m not that old,” he shouts as he turns the corner and disappears. 

Carlos takes the time to catch up on your appearance. Last time he saw you, you had longer hair, now it appears you’ve had a trim. He likes it. You were slightly tanner, but now appear a shade lighter. It could just be because it’s winter. It's nice seeing other versions of you. 

“So, how have you be—”

“Why are you still here?”

He freezes. It takes him a while to find the strength to open his mouth. 

“We never finished our conversation.”

-

He didn’t fuck you that night, no, he took you dancing. And maybe that’s why it worked this time around. Instead of taking the time to learn all the different types of moans you have, he took the time to learn all about your upbringing. 

I learned how to bike when I turned six. Had severe trust issues for a year, so I tried again when I was seven.

That must be where your scars are from, he thinks to himself, but he finds them endearing.

I like long hair, I find it beautiful, but as soon as it’s starting to grow out I think it looks too weird on me. 

That must be why your hair is shorter than he remembers, but he loves it. Has the urge to run his fingers through.

My favorite movie is How Harry Met Sally, but quite frankly, I don't find Harry attractive at all, so I never really understood why Sally settled down with him after so long.

And you’re honest. Brutally honest. And he finds that attractive.

“How about you, Mr. Singapore?”

I learned how to kart before I learned how to bike, actually. I, too, have scars on my hands from small crashes. 

You blush as you hide yours beneath your coat. 

I have two sisters, so I mainly learned how to dance because of them. I hated it at the time, but now I’m quite grateful.

Is it possible to swoon harder?

And I don’t have a favorite film, necessarily, but I’ve watched How Harry Met Sally, and I would agree. Sally was too good looking for him. 

You have to laugh. “Is that so?”

He smiles. “The name Harry sounds so…” He winks cooly before running a hand through his locks. You giggle. “He looks more like a Bob.”

“Oh my God! Could you imagine? How Bob Met Sally?” You pause. “Wait, that actually doesn’t sound half bad…”

He chews on his bottom lip slowly, nodding in agreement. Silence engulfs you two as you stare at each other with round eyes. He’s the first to crack a loopy grin and you quickly follow with a sheepish one. Then, it vanishes and he’s left looking like he swallowed a frog.

“Listen, about last time…”

“Long forgotten.”

He halts, almost surprised by your response. “No, no, there’s no need to pretend, I was a—”

“Jerk?”

The Spaniard rolls his eyes. “Great, so you haven’t forgotten.”

You shrug. “I’m a girl. We remember everything.”

“Got it,” he declares. “Ask me again.”

Now it’s your turn to freeze. “What?”

“Ask me why you should say yes to a date with me.”

“You don’t have to do this, we’re good—”

“I know we are, but I still want you to ask.”

You lick your lip anxiously before relaxing your stiff shoulders. He tilts his head as if urging you and you nod. “Why should I say yes to you?”

Satisfaction settles. “Because you like a good challenge.” He leans closer. “And isn't that what this is?”

-

Carlos Sainz Jr. was made for you.

“Leave me alone,” you scream, veins throbbing, as you rush past him, heading towards the guest room. You’re glad his parents aren’t home at the moment because Lord knows the embarrassment you would feel.

“No. Not until you talk to me.” As simple as that. Your eyes twitch as you turn back, then bring your hands up to your hips. He adores it when you do that, though he probably shouldn’t right now.

“You want to talk?” You let out an unhinged scoff. “Oh, would you look at that, he wants to talk! Now he wants to talk. Well guess what, fuckhead—I don’t.” 

With that, you march out into the balcony. His eyes follow the way you light up a cigarette. The way you drink the last drops of champagne that linger in the bottle gifted to you by his mother. 

She was kind. She was beautiful. She didn’t deserve someone being this mean to her son.

You barely recognize him because of how blurry your vision is, but his scent does it. Musky. Woody. Calm. 

He hands you the familiar pill, then a glass of water. He rushes the champagne away, then takes the cigarette and squashes it against the cold floor. He doesn’t so much call you out for being a lunatic, for upsetting his dogs with all your yelling, or for pushing him. No, he doesn’t do any of that. And you have never been more in love with him than now.

“I know I can be a bit much sometimes…” A sniffle. “I swear I try to catch onto it so you don’t have to deal with any of this, but—”

“You don’t mean it.” He tangles his fingers through your hair as you sob. And it’s soft despite spending the entire day near the ocean. It feels silky. He’s obsessed. “I know you.”

-

You were made for Carlos Sainz Jr.

“How do I look?” 

“Like an angel.” He swears he turns bright red when you blow him a kiss. “Your name must’ve been Bonita in another life because look at you…” A hand flies up to clutch onto his heart as he makes a face. “Though, I must say, you do know how to make me look bad.”

You giggle. “Oh? This old thing? I thrifted it. Nice, eh?”

He groans. “Very, but you’re supposed to be rooting for Spain.” A gag. “Not Italy.”

You frown. “That's all I had. Plus, you’re basically Italian given your working status.”

“No, amor, they pay me to like Italy. It’s a cover up, think about it.”

You huff, popping your hip outward. “Still. I like it, so I’m wearing it while cheering for the opposite team.”

“Always over complicating things.” He laughs. “Can’t say I’m surprised, you’re a complicated person.”

A deadpan expression. “Suck your own dick.”

“Oi, relax.”

Spinning to face the mirror, you fix your jersey one last time before skipping out the door, tube socks sliding as you go. The Spaniard lets out a dreamy sigh. 

Were you flawless? Not at all.

Were you put together? Not without a prescription.

But he loved figuring it all out with you. And that’s called love.

-

You’re in the middle of a rampage, during dinner. While everyone stares at you puzzled, he simply laughs at your cartoon expressions. 

“I mean, I offered!” A pout. “I clearly stated I could get the cap signed for her and she gave me the nastiest, ugliest, dirty-looking glare! I for sure thought her face was permanently damaged.” You relax against the chair, your shaky hand finding its way to your water bottle. “Like sorry for riding your favorite driver…”

Charles laughs nervously. “I don’t think that was a necessary thing to include…” 

You shrug, raising your brows over to your boyfriend who struggles to breathe. 

The conversation flows easily, like most nights you're all together, but this time there’s a minor bump. You’ve been good about it; avoiding the question for so long. Over the course of time, you’ve managed to be so mendacious, that truly no one knew the truth. Not even Carlos.

“I hope it’s not overstepping, but how did your mum pass?”

He means no harm, Lando, but you just wish so badly that you could believe that. While Carlos and Lewis were the closest thing you have to a family nowadays, even they knew not to ask. You never laid the rules out loud, but they could tell it was an unwanted topic to have on your behalf, no matter how curious they got. 

All of a sudden, your mood deteriorates. The look in Lando’s eyes makes sure to strike off as an apology, but you’re so busy looking down onto your lap that you don’t even pinpoint the meaning. The table grows awkward as time ticks by. 

No one has the power to change the subject, save you the same way doctors tried to save your mother—because they, too—wonder. 

You gulp, feeling small, but far too seen at the same time. It was confusing. “She, um…her last husband…” Everyone feels bad, like you’re some limping puppy, zigzagging down an empty highway, but remain quiet. Then, you look up, stone cold but the tip of your rosy nose and blotchy face is enough reassurance that you still have a beating heart.

“Husband number three strangled her to death.”

You say it like you don’t care. Like it hasn’t affected you at all, and that makes Carlos blink twice as fast as everyone else in the table. A droplet makes its way down your cheek as you let out a light laugh. 

“I guess he thought he was some Superior God who had a say in cutting her time short.”

They all freeze. 

“I am so sorry for asking—” 

“I didn’t need to respond.” You smile lamely. “It’s fine, Lando.”

But it’s not, not even close. They ripped the confession out of your throat, at least that’s what it felt like. No one stepped up, no one said anything. 

Your eyes flicker to the only man who makes your heart speed. 

He reaches for your hand and you grip it hard.

No one said anything.

Not. Even. Carlos.

-

You’ve always excelled at holding a grudge. It came fairly simple. 

But as you stare at him through the screen, for the first time—and only the first time—you struggle. Maybe it’s his puppy eyes that betray you, or his gentleness anytime he steps near you, you don’t really know. 

And you don’t want to.

“I was thinking mariscos.”

Hair flies past your eyes as you squint. He looks particularly handsome today, wearing a linen shirt that drapes over him like some silver armor. Long waves brush against his temples as he returns the squint, slightly smiling at your lips. 

“Sounds good to me.”

Soft music roams the isolated restaurant that almost seemed to belong to just you two, and that helps you relax. You could tell it helps him too. 

“The car felt good today.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, biting onto a piece of shrimp. “Felt like I was flying.”

You let out a whistle. There’s a comfortable silence that lingers for a while before you raise a brow up to the open sky. “Hey,” you start as his orbs flicker up with all the attention in the world. “Do you believe in angels?”

A moment. “I’d say so, yes. Yes, I do.”

Hum. “You sound freakishly sure.” You inch forward with teasing eyes. “Why?”

“Easy.” Chocolate orbs swirl with adoration. “There’s you.”

“I don’t count.”

He frowns. “And why not?”

“Because you love me, of course you’d say that only to be nice.”

“I say so because I know so.”

“Love is blind, love is blind,” you chant, sipping on his open can.

A second ticks by. “Why do you ask?”

And like the first night he met you, your eyes merge into doe eyes. “Because I do.” A sheepish grin. “And sorry to disappoint, but it’s not you.” 

“What’s his name?” he jokes.

But you’re not even listening. “My mom was pure. She was a good person, Carlos.” A beat. “She’s my forever angel.”

His heart physically hurts at your glossy eyes, immediately reaching for your hands. “You must really miss her…”

A wet laugh. “Is there a word stronger than ‘really’? If there is, then that would be one way to say it.”

And he has to apologize, even if it’s seven days too late. 

“I’m sorry for not stepping in that night. I-I-I should have said something and you should have said nothing.” Thick brows knit in together. “You don’t know how shitty I felt, but—”

“You wanted to know as well.”

The way his features freeze is enough confirmation. And you can't be mad. Not even a little. Not even a lot. 

“That doesn’t make you a bad person, Carlos. I should have been more open and honest with you first.” A gust of hot air slaps you across the face. “I tend to shut out people like you because…I don’t know.”

“Vulnerability is a bitch?”

You laugh. “That’s one way to say it.” Orbs scan his beauty with no shame before falling back. “You still have plenty of questions, don’t you?”

“O-of course not.”

Another laugh. “It’s okay. You caught me in a good mood. Go on.”

He’s awkward at first, but slowly eases with the sound of your breathing. “Why hasn’t he been arrested?”

“Because he’s a multi-billionaire.”

He gulps and you blink. “Why haven’t you sued?”

“Because I’m not a multi-billionaire.”

“So…he did a cover up with a wad of cash?”

“Mhm. No one dared ask whose hand shaped bruise was imprinted in her neck.”

He’s caught off guard by your bluntness, but he knows he needs this because he knows it will keep him up the same ways it’s kept him up since that god forbidden dinner. 

“This was the cause of your…” He doesn’t even want to finish his sentence.

“Depression…yeah. Losing someone you love will do that to ya.”

But he wants to ask—he wants to ask more because he knows there has to be more. He’s lost people he loves too—and he loved them very much—and he never got this way. In a flash, he feels guilty for comparing his healing process to yours but quickly looks down onto his lap. 

And the hot summer rain is enough warning for him not to question you any further. 

The Spaniard shares a grateful smile. “Thank you for trusting me. To take care of you, and all t-that,” he stutters, blushing.

“I love you, Carlos.” A beat. “I’ve always trusted you. The only person I don’t trust is myself.”

-

“Be quiet,” she hisses, urgently signaling you closer. “And make sure to shut the door.”

Confused, you hesitantly push until you hear a click. Inching closer to your mom, you slowly become more and more lost as you eye the scattered papers all over your step-dads office table. “What is all this?”

Color drains from her normally youthful face. Even the brightest shade of red can’t help add life. “Proof of embezzlement.”

“What?”

She slides stacks of black folders towards you and you quickly flip through, to which you don’t understand a single thing. “He’s stealing money, that’s what. We’re not talking thousands, we’re talking millions,” she whispers frantically before growing green. “Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Okay, okay, hold on, you’re okay.” Rushing to be next to her, you clumsily tie her hair up into a messy ponytail before fanning her with the white sheets. You wince, quickly placing them back down. “How did you even come across this?”

Just as fast as a lighting bolt, she spins the chair. “I’m starting my book—” She gags, “I was supposed to start today, but I came in here looking for his typewriter. You know, the one with the tiny cherubs?” Across the office, you spot it, the tiny angels delicately painted onto the infamous typewriter. You nod. “Well, I started to search for some paper and instead found all of this…”

Even you grow dizzy as you eye the infinite zero’s that jump out against all types of sums. That’s not even enough to spend in ten lifetimes. It was no wonder he just recently made it onto The Forbes list. Her eyes—honest as ever—make you panic as you twirl your thumbs. “Wait…you’re not thinking of confronting him about it, are you?”

“I have to.” Pause. “Right?”

No. You don’t want her to. Not in any scenario. It’s taken you both so long to reach the life you deserve, and now that you were finally here it’s about to be ripped away from you? Your lack of words makes her glare. 

“I don’t know why I’m asking you, I have to! It’s the right thing to do.”

Adrenaline. “Mom, just think about it—”

“I did not raise you to be avaricious,” she spits out, fire practically fuming out of her.  You flinch. “I’m going to talk to him.”

“Y-you’re right.” There goes all your money down the drain. “I’m with you no matter what.” 

Knock knock.

Like mother-daughter, you both freeze as your eyes flicker to the sound. 

“Angelica, are you in there?”

You never liked the name Angelica. Not on anyone else that wasn’t your Angelica. 

Running over to open, she finds herself face-to-face to Lucifer himself as he cocks his head in humor. “Locking me out of my own office now?” He enters. “Fun.” Dark eyes roam the messy area. “Fun.”

Her eyes plead with you in a language only you both knew, but never did you mean to obey. You wanted to stay with her—something told you to stay with her. 

“Honey, give us some privacy, yeah?”

“U-uh…” He winks like that was the go-ahead. Like that was the last permission you needed to agree. And maybe it was. 

Deep down it’s almost like you knew he had sinister intentions. Deep down it’s almost like you knew he was capable of committing those sinister intentions. 

Deep down. 

It’s like you don’t even care.

You smile, tight lipped. “Whatever you need.”

You heard the argument that night, you heard the threats. You heard her pleads, you heard her chokes. You could only imagine what was going on inside, but you were your mothers daughter. You could imagine quite a lot. 

She could’ve been an author—with his resources she might just have hit the New York Times Best Seller list. She could have been a grandmother one day—surely your kids would have lived a luxurious life. 

She could have been obedient. Why wasn’t she obedient? Was it so hard to brush it all under the rug?

He was sweating, just as much as a pig. Or maybe he’s glowing, he is smiling after all. Here and there he apologizes in a lousy manner, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was—

“How much money am I gonna get to keep?”

He’s intrigued. “How much do you want?”

“Enough to not have to worry.” You can still see it; cramped rooms, tin canned meals on paper plates. You could never go back.

An eye roll. “You’re just like her…” A beat. “Fucking greedy.” You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks. You’re embarrassed—-of course you were—who is he to judge? He sighs. “No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“It means I’m not transferring you anything. I want you out of this house no later than Sunday.”

Plump lips open, then snap shut, teeth gritting. “I’ll tell everyone that you’re a murderer. You’ll lose it all, w-watch.”

He’s not phased. Not even in the slightest. “And who’s going to believe you? Tell me, really, because I’d like to know.”

Fuck him for having everything. Fuck him for having everything. Fuck him for having everything.

And fuck yourself for having nothing at all—again.

Months swept by, the death was ruled a suicide, and antidepressant became your loyal friend. There was no one else, and sometimes you feared there would always be no one else. 

Then—by some miracle—there was Carlos.

He was handsome. He was shy. He was sweet. He was kind.

He was rich.

You played hard to get, but so did he. You played the long haul, but so did he. You were a fantastic liar, but he was an ever better believer.

And it all clicked.

Just the way it was supposed to.

-

You’ve been accustomed to a certain lifestyle for years now, but somehow you’re always surprised about the sudden boost you’ve switched to ever since you’ve met him.

Chanel heels turned into red bottoms. Last season dresses turned into those that were not yet  released. You loved everything about it.

“You look so beautiful, cariño,” he groans against your lips, desperate for more. His large hands play with the silky fabric, fighting to slide it up against your hips. You shudder. “I mean…come on.”

“Hey, hey—that’s sweet and all—” You push yourself closer to his toned body, immediately feeling his erection. You nearly whimper.  “But why don’t you fuck me instead?” A kiss. “You missed me, no?”

And instead—he whimpers. “How dare you even ask?” 

With that, he picks you up with ease, pinning you against the wall. You’re dizzy, because unbeknownst to him, he’s casted a spell on you. Never did you think you could fall in love, much less, have someone reciprocate. 

Tender fingers make their way to your clit as you lunge forward, biting down onto his shoulder. It should amaze you how he holds you up with one arm, but you’re not. If anything, you leak more and more by every passing second. 

His dirty pants make you fold as you clench around him. The way they curl, the way they pulse, all of it was your kryptonite. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you squeal, keeping your eyes trapped shut, feeling the familiar knot forming. He grins, pecking your sweaty forehead, digits speeding up. Berry lips form an O as you moan louder with every push.”I-I’m c-c-close—oh God.”

“Shh. It’s okay, let go for me, yeah? I’m right here with you.” 

Gritting your teeth harder, you moan like some pornstar as you finish all around him. Almost like some rule, he desperately sucks his fingers clean. The Spaniard hums like he’s living his biggest dream of all before opening his round eyes. 

“So sweet.”

You blush. “Yours tastes like shit.”

He laughs. “And yet you beg for me to finish all over your face, isn’t that so?”

Nearly choking at his bluntness, you fight back a smile as you play with his floppy locks. They’ve grown so much from the last time you saw him, so this was certainly eye candy to you. He sighs, relaxing as you continue to twirl thick strands around your fingers.

Soft legs still drape over his waist, hands still lay around your waist, and even breathing connects you both. Carlos feels like he’s nearly dozing off, but his hand remains firm, preferring to take a bullet than to let you fall. 

You like to think that you like his lashes the best. But then there’s his eyes. And his nose. And his heart. And his lips. And his hands. And his sculpture body. And his jokes. And his laugh. And his freckles. So you never could choose, not truly.

Inching closer to his ear, you smirk slowly. “Wanna fuck my mouth?”

His eyes snap open, jaw clenching. “You’re such a tease.”

A shrug. “Want to or not?” You bite your lip, legs letting go of his hips as you slide down. “Because this offer ends in five…” He raises a skeptical brow. “Four…” You motion him closer to which he steadily follows. “Three…” He laughs. “Two, one!”

Sprinting up the stairs in a flash, you giggle as he chases after you. The sound of his steps make your heart beat faster as you jump onto your shared bed. Rushing past the corner, he cocks his head to the side as he clicks his tongue. Stepping into the room carefully, he swung the door closed before locking it. You frown.

“Reassures me that no one will walk in.”

“No one will walk in,” you whisper as your stomach drops. “There’s no need t-to—”

“No, yeah, you’re right,” he agrees, taking in your breathless state. “But I prefer it this way. Just you.” A closer stride. “And me.”

Palms are sweaty. Blood slithers down your throat and thighs. And yet your freeze. You feel hot and cold, all at once. You don’t like the feeling, any of it, but you try to ignore the inner monologue. 

“You look stunning,” he states, finally reaching you. “You always do.”

Your speeding heart lessens. “T-thank you.” 

A beat. “You’re not nervous—are you?”

Hastily, you shake your head. “N-no! Of course not!”

Thick brows knit together. “Because you normally aren’t.” His smile fades. “W-we don’t have to do anything tonight if you don’t want to, you know that right?”

Physically, you’re cringing. Mentally, you’re spiraling. The act itself makes the Spaniard withdraw, taking a steady step back and shaking his head. Panic rises fast as you crawl closer to him, reaching the end of the bed. 

“I just have a lot on my mind, but I want this.” A beat. “I want you.”

It’s as if you’re a blank sheet of paper, blinking up at Carlos with such innocence. So much so, it makes his heart stop. He looks for reassurance, which you give him, and he looks for it again, which you give again without hesitance. 

“Come on, Carlitos…” you slowly whisper, batting your eyes. “I know you’ve missed my mouth.”

If you weren’t so breathtaking, if you weren’t so seductive, if you weren’t so goddamn tempting then surely turning you down wouldn’t be an issue. By alas, you’re here—and even better—you’re all his. 

“Eres un sueño.” It seems like an eternity passes by before he finally steps close to you once again, getting rid of whatever distance you ever had. Like it was never meant to be there to begin with. “Can I kiss you first?”

It’s sweet that he feels the need to build up to fucking you sore, but sweet nonetheless. That’s one thing you love about him—and there’s a lot to choose from—his respect towards you. Smiling warmly, you extend your arm, inviting him like an angel before he smashes his lips against you like the devil.

The contrast. It’s just what you needed.

“God, I fucking love you.” 

“I—” His lips press harsher as he continues marking his territory. All of it was making your head spin like a rollercoaster. “I love you too,” you manage to spit out as he makes his way down. You blush. “I-I-I sort of wanted to…”

He blinks. “Sort of what?”

“Well, you know…” You point towards his hardened cock. 

And he actually snickers. “Cat got your tongue today or what, bella?”

A groan. “You’re so fucking annoying—”

“No, no, no,” he cuts in with a whistle. “By all means, go ahead.”

Desperate hands crazily reach out towards his belt in a nanosecond. You should be ashamed how hopeless you are, but you don’t find enough strength to care. Not when he was looking down at you with hungry eyes. 

“Tan linda,” he whispered underneath his breath. As if you weren’t meant to hear him. As if he can’t quite believe it’s you he gets to keep. This must all be a dream to him, he thinks. 

Just as you’re about to pull his jeans down, large hands get ahold of your wrists. Confused, you look up at him, head tilted and messy hair falling over your shoulder. He grins wickedly. 

“Just one more kiss.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Are you kidding me—”

But his soft lips move with such urgency that you don’t even have time to bitch and moan. Not that you’re trying. You can feel it; the hunger, the lust. The way you run your fingers through his hair, or how he squeezes your ass. In a matter of seconds, the room grows steamy, hot breaths expanding with every peck. It’s as if Carlos was too afraid of being ripped away from you even for a second, scared your lips might change and he wouldn’t know a thing about it.

Not knowing you might be his biggest fear.

It happens without a warning, his grip. You feel it slide slowly up your ribs—you remember thinking how much you like it, how much it tickles. Then it reaches your chest, to which his eager hands squeeze your tits, pathetically moaning into your mouth. You can’t help but giggle, but still not separating. And then…

It reaches your neck.

As soon as he squeezes, your eyesight begins to blur, but he doesn’t notice. Your chest begins to rise and fall at an alarming rate, but he doesn’t notice. And you’re terrified.

But he doesn’t notice.

“Carlos,” you whimper, but he takes it as a good sign, mouth moving with ease. “Carlos, honey…”

“Yeah, baby?” His voice is deep. “You like that?” Large palm squeezes harder. “Bet you do.”

“Okay, stop!” you scream, arms flying like some madman. “Let go of me!”

Panicked, he releases you in a hurry, jumping off of your trembling body. Color drains his face as realization hits him, but it's too late. You’re sobbing hard, shoulders bouncing up and down. The way you crawl back with fear makes his heart break as he shakes his head, running a hand against his jaw.

“Fuck.” More cries. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—I am so sorry, baby…” Desperate eyes stare back at you as you hide your face against your shaky hands. “I’m so fucking stupid. I should have known, I should have known.” Inching closer proves to be a mistake when you leap off the bed, throwing a mountain of pillows like daggers. 

“Stop it,” you demand. “Stay. Right. There.”

He flinches. “Are you afraid of me?”

The laugh that erupts from your throat is unlike the others he’s heard. It’s almost maniacal. It makes his skin grow with goosebumps. “Is that even a question?” Dark mascara runs down your cheeks as you breathe heavily. “You just tried to kill me.”

“No,” he pronounces. “No, you know that that’s not true. I-I-I thought you’d like it!” The glare you flicker is enough for him to wince, pinching the tip of his nose. “I should have known better, okay? Please, just…calm down.”

All your sniffles come to an end as you freeze. “Are you calling me crazy?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh my God.” Pushing your hair back, you release a chuckle. “You actually think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy, stop putting words into my mouth.”

A scoff. “Okay, wow.” 

He doesn’t have a clue as to how he continues to dig himself into a hole—and yet—here he is. Digging his own grave. Exhaling hard, he licks his lips before looking straight into your glossy eyes. “I love you,” he starts, but you remain as still as a statue. “And I want us to work through this. I want to be able to talk to you, yeah?” A beat. “I’m sorry about…what I did, I should have never done it knowing you’re…traumatized.” 

He’s almost scared to see your reaction, but it never comes. Instead, you blink hastily, as if you’re mortified. 

You should’ve known. You should have figured that karma would catch up to you sooner or later.

I mean, all sins must be paid for, right?

As soon as he starts closing the gap, you’re thumping heart picks right back up. “I just want to talk—”

“No.”

Despite his hurt, he continues his march towards you. “I just want to be near you, please—”

“I said no!” 

It happens almost in the blink of an eye, the sound of glass shattering. He sort of thinks he must’ve imagined it, your hand flying to punch the mirror right besides you, but the gentle blood that oozes out of your hand makes his heart stop. Suddenly, all the scars you have make sense. So much makes sense. 

“Just…stay there, Carlos,” you say, voice trembling, small hand holding out a piece of sharp glass towards him like some wannabe knife. You bite your bottom lip. “Just—there.”

“Cariño…”

“Stop it with that,” you plead, teardrops slipping. “Stop calling me that.”

Somewhere in the shard, he catches his reflection. Half-scared, half-brokenhearted. He doesn’t even know how you two got to this point. 

He gulps. “Okay. I’ll stop, I’ll stop, but please put that down.” You shake your head fast, splotchy cheeks flushing furthermore. Carlos sighs desperately. “Come on—you’re bleeding.”

“I’m used to it by now.”

Tension resurfaces once again between you both as you stare at each other, awaiting for the next challenge. Playing the silent game for a second, curious to see who breaks next. 

“Why did you lock the door?”

He almost laughs. “We always shut the door—”

You raise the blade up higher as you begin to lose patience. Deep down, you know you’re not capable of harming him, but how could you ever let your guard down once again when he tried to strangle you to death?

History almost repeats itself, and you’ll be damned if you ever let it happen.

“You said it, we shut it but we never lock it.” A soft cry. “What were you planning on doing to me, Carlos?”

It’s like a knife to the heart, you’re sudden distrust. The brunette finds himself struggling to breath as he blinks like a lost deer. 

“You know that I would never hurt you. Not on purpose, at least…”

You let out a wet snarl, shaking your head. “I don’t believe you.”

A flinch. “All of this was a mistake and I adore you.”

“You don’t, though,” you protest, the shaky vision intensifying. “If not you wouldn’t have tried to mur—”

“For the last time, I’m not your step-father!” It’s as if he’s finally reached his breaking point, just now. His body is tired. His mind is tired. Everything is just tired of trying. Carlos shrugs lamely. “If you don’t want to believe me…so be it.”

The pain that rains out of him should be enough for you to know that he’s telling the complete truth. He’s a good guy, with pure intentions. He’s not here to get even with you on your mothers behalf. None of what you’re imagining is true.

But you just can’t seem to understand. 

“I don’t believe your lies, alright?” you spit out with deep breaths. You drop the blade, finally. “Open the door.”

With his head hung low, he complies, feet dragging with every step. And finally, with a hand on the knob, he turns to give you one last glance. He can tell you’re holding in your breath and he doesn’t know why it bothers him so much. Why it make him feel so much like a monster…

Click. The wooden door swings open as he pushes it gently.

“Now leave.”

A wave of nausea strikes with your words. “Amor—“

“Stop. Don’t even look at me.” Tension. “I don’t want to see you ever again—not even by accident.”

And that was the last stab that ended it all.

-

Every now and then, he wonders how you are. Hopefully better. 

He hears your name mentioned once in a blue moon, but instinctively blocks it out, too disturbed at the thought of what occurred between you two. 

What did occur between you two?

He could take a guess and say that you’re internally fucked. Straight and simple. 

But it’s still annoying. The way he wishes to forget you with every passing birthday wish. 

At first, it was because he missed you. He just wanted to forget you because he missed you—yes.

Later, it was because the memory of the cramped room suffocated him. The sound of glass breaking was stronger than the sound of his car crashing. And somehow the latter seemed better. 

He just wanted to forget that day—yes. 

Staring off into space has been his thing for a long time, often getting called out on it. Now, he finds himself with his eyes closed, too scared that someone might notice his feelings and feel the need to ask if he’s okay. 

He hasn't been. Not since you. 

“Grape or watermelon?”

Popping and eye open, he catches a glance of Lewis before rolling over. “I’m good.”

It’s tough, this silent war between both his friends. The break up simply made this…tough. Especially when no one really knows what happened. 

Setting the electrolytes down, the Brit claims a spot next to the brunette. Groaning at the unwanted company, Carlos switches to sit upright. Brown eyes glare strongly before Lewis laughs it off. 

“How you doin’, bud?”

Great, no yeah, just severely depressed thanks to your so-called friend. Would you mind asking her where she gets her antidepressants from for me? I mean, I would, but last time we saw each other she, uh, I don’t know, tried to stab me? And you know what’s the most fucked up shit? It’s the fact that I still love her just the same. 

I just wanted to help. 

He forces a shy smile. “Fine.”

A pity grimace. “I can tell she misses you, you know?”

Carlos hates how excited the thought of you alone—dreamily sighing for his return—gets him to sit up straighter, suddenly interested. It’s foolish, really. 

“She would never admit it, but I can tell because I know—”

“Her?” The Spaniard lets out a mocking scoff. “Trust me, you don’t. Not entirely.”

That shuts Lewis right up as he sits there, staring blankly. A dark brow furrows. “Listen, I don’t know what happened between you two—not that I need to know—but she’s a good person. And so are you. So…don’t be afraid of reaching out.”

He flickers his brown eyes accusingly. “Why should I? Did she put you up to this?”

“She didn’t—“

But the fact is, the hesitation gives him away. Anger arises as the Spaniard rolls his eyes. “I knew it, God, I knew it!” A second. “I know her.”

The Brit drowns with nervousness as he waves his hands in despair. “She just wants you to apologize!”

A singular laugh. “Apologize for what?” He pauses, squinting at his friend. “She didn’t tell you why we broke up, did she?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t really know who’s fault it was, do you?”

Lewis looks down onto his lap. “No. Not really.”

“Great, then let me be the one to tell you that it was both of ours. I’m no saint but neither is she.”

An award silence lingers as the Spaniards voice echoes the room. Lewis nods. “Understood. I got it, okay?”

He sighs an irregular sigh. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t worry about it, man.” A sheepish grin. “It’s not my place to fix anything about your guys’ relationship, I get it.”

Carlos’ face switches to bright red as he nods his head once. “T-thanks.”

The Brit, ever happily, stands up firmly before patting his back. “I’m always here if you need to talk.”

“Gracias.” Lewis is just a few steps away when he clears his throat before he can even stop himself from asking. “How’s she doing?”

It came across almost softer than a mumble, and one might have missed it if not alert, but not Lewis. 

Spinning to face the almost manchild with round eyes, he smiles as bright as the sun, and that makes his stomach turn. Because he knows. He knows you’re doing—

“Really well.”

Fluffy hair falls down as he tilts his head, clicking his tongue. “That’s good.” Sure. He returns the same smile with a twitch. “That’s really good.”

Lewis has known you two for a long time now. He’s unwillingly memorized your ticks. How the right side of your face slightly twitches before every lie, or how the left side of his does the same before every lie. Much like right now. 

The Brit contemplates for a minute, then two, then opens his mouth in the most hesitant manner. 

“She’s moving to Germany.” Carlos freezes. “Only for a few months. Maybe a year, who knows. But…you should read her book.”

He unfreezes. “Her what?”

A faint smile. Eyes crinkled. “It’s a tough read, but I believe it was necessary. You know, to finally talk about it.”

-

He never quite believed you would open up this way, and yet here he was, in an unknown bookstore, spacing out. Your name jumps out like some shooting star, too difficult to ignore. 

Without a doubt, you’d get a lawsuit from your step-father. Of course—you were only dragging the last name of what seemed to be the world's richest man. 

For what it’s worth, Carlos is proud. This must mean you’re open to moving on. To get the necessary help you so desperately need. From start to finish, the pages are enticing. You go into gruesome depth, something you never seemed to have a problem in doing. From the mention of how her eyes remained open with no sign of life, only terror, to the fact that you got your many scars from punching the door, trying to get in on time. How he bribed his way against the laws. 

Everything seemed to be coming out.

So then why, as he sits in his driver's room, staring at your picture in the back of the book, does he feel like doesn’t believe it? 

Not even a generous half.

-

Angelica lived up to the first five letters of her name. 

She was there for you in the moments you needed her the most. She braided your hair for playdates, she tied your shoe laces even when you were too embarrassed to ask, and she worked her way up, making sure you had it all. 

Undeniably, she was one hell of a woman. Then again, she had more within her—pulled some trigger you never thought she’d pull.

You were going to lose it all, why couldn’t she foresee that? That conversation was going to rip your inheritance straight from your tight grip; the one that ensured your future vacations. How could she ever betray you? Her own daughter? 

You were acquisitive. You were possessive. You were partially responsible for her death.

But call it naiveness, you really thought it’d work.

No one will truly know the way your soul left your body when you heard you wouldn’t get a single dollar. Not even a fucking cent. You had to find some other way to stay secure.

But Carlos was out to get you, you just know he was. You don’t have a clue as to how he found out about the truth, about what happened inside that stupid mansion, but he knew it all. And you had to get out of there.

Only it led you back to square one. With no purpose. With no money. Fuck men and their actions, seriously, too all hell with them.

However, you were your mothers daughter at the end of the day.

You could be a writer. An even better one that she could've ever been. If you wanted to, you could do it. 

And that is exactly what you did.

You typed, and typed, and typed until your fingers would cramp up. The multi-billionaire was a leviathan and everyone would see that no matter what. 

You, on the other hand, were an innocent bystander. Too weak to intervene, to fight back. Too young. Yeah. That was what happened that night.

But you also had your own perspective. One your mom could never match.

While she married for the illusion of love, you would’ve married for money with no shame. Carlos just happened to be the luckiest of strikes because you got both. 

While she always was at the front of the room without having to try, you were always in the back with a bitter smile. Why did she get to have two dimples? All eyes would have surely been on you if you had at least one. 

And while she never cared about reaching the New York Times Best Seller list—you did. 

She would have jumped with joy just by selling ten copies, but not you. You always wanted more—craved more. Label it as ambition. 

More copies sold means more money. A trust fund means more money. Playing the victim against your step-father means even more money. So yeah…

You did care about that stupid list. 

Tilting your head back against your seat, you flinch at the taste of the pill, too familiar for your liking, but the wine helps. It always does nowadays. 

Buzz. 

Picking up with a level of indifference was all fake—you had been yearning this call for what seemed like your whole life.

“Hey.” His voice is almost raw. Like he could use a couple cough drops. “I-I-I read your book. It was incredible.”

And for the first time in a while, you smile. “Thank you, that means a lot, Carlos.”

You can hear the static against the line, indicating once again that you’re on opposite sides of the world and not together. You can almost bet that it will always stay that way. 

The Spaniard coughs awkwardly into your ear.

“Oh, and also, congrats on making it onto the New York Times Best Seller.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

[repulsiveliquidation]

Good Girls || Alexia Putellas and María León

warnings : smut (18+), cunnilingus, face-riding, rough sex, light bondage, gagging, fingering, choking, rimming, riding, dildos, buttplugs and strap-ons.

a/n : special thanks to spicy anon for some scene inspiration :)

There were lights flashing all over the place when you walked into the bar. The music blared and the smell of alcohol and cigarettes filled your nostrils. People were dancing and yelling, grinding and making a fool of themselves left, right and center.

You sauntered in, finding a quiet spot at the end of the bar. The bartender recognized you, flashing you a smile as he put away the glass he was cleaning.

“The usual darling?”

“If you don’t mind, Jack.”

A pale ale with perfect foam sits in front of you seconds later, the bitter beverage giving you just a little boost in confidence to walk over to the table you were supposed to be sitting at. Two women wearing dark clothing sat tucked in the very back of the VIP section, talking to each other in hushed voices. There weren’t many people sitting in that area, and you noticed a certain look to the people who did.

They looked rich.

You caught Jack’s attention, drinking the last swig of beer before making a request that always made your core tingle.

“I’ll have what the one on the right at the end over there is having, baby.”

Jack smirks, grabbing a whiskey glass and a perfect cube of ice to make an old-fashioned.

“Another one of your victims, sweetheart?”

“We’ll see, we met at Manuela’s last week and had a great time.”

He throws a napkin down and sets the citrusy beverage right on it. The scent of bitters and orange peels brings back some fond memories of last week’s appointment and you can’t wait to see what those two came up with this week.

You stand and adjust your dress before grabbing your drink and walking over to the VIP area. The bouncer, Jorge, listened carefully to your little story about meeting with those two girls at the end of the hall. He nodded and smiled kindly before leaning in and whispering, “They’ve reserved the mirror room tonight.”

Your eyes lit up and your heart pounded in your chest. The mirror room was the best room this sex den/bar had to offer. Approval from the big boss herself was the only way to know and get access to the room. Having been a loyal patron of the bar and a treasured dancer at the club the owner also owned, you’ve heard of the room before, dreaming that one day a client would give you the chance to experience it once and for all.

Well that day was today.

With hands shaking and a sip of liquid courage to walk into the VIP area, your core throbbed with anticipation of what’s to come.

Their whispering stopped when you slid into the booth beside the heavily tattooed defender, fishing a cherry out of your glass and popping it into your mouth.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you begin, daintily sipping your half-empty glass.

“Could say the same for you, princesa,” growls the much broader one that sat opposite you. Her lips smirked underneath her hood, piercing hazel eyes sending a shiver down your spine.

“Alexia and I were just talking about you,” María quips, stealing the toothpick out of your glass and eating the last cherry on it.

“Only good things, I hope,” you chuckle, watching as Alexia swished her cognac in her glass before taking a long sip.

“We were talking about how good of a fuck you were last week,” Alexia says, licking her lips as the gasoline-like liquid goes down her throat. María leans in, lips barely pressed against your earlobe.

“We were wondering if you’d be good if not better tonight, especially for what we’ve got planned.”

Her arm pulls you in close and she kisses you, the taste of her gin and tonic with your old-fashioned sent your head spinning, thighs parting when her strong hand slipped between them. You could already feel the ache in your cunt from her simple touches, when the thought of Alexia just sitting there and watching you two sends you even further into a spiral.

“The room is ready for you, ma’am,” a worker interrupts, causing María to pull away with a smirk on her face. Alexia slides out of the booth gracefully and you follow, thighs already sticking together as you walked up the stairs to the private suites.

Alexia holds the door open for you and you step inside, not knowing what to expect. Your jaw drops when María flips the lights on.

There are floor to ceiling mirrors along every wall of the room. Just above the bed there was a big mirror that gave anyone on the bed the perfect 360° view of anything going on anywhere. They were seamless and the lights made no shadows anywhere at all.

This was not what you thought the mirror room was. But boy were you excited to try everything it had to offer.  

“We’ve got it to ourselves for the night, why don’t you have a seat on the bed and we can get started hm?”

María walked over to the minibar and wine fridge, searching through the bottles for one she liked. You sat on the bed, waiting for more instructions. Alexia took her hood off and threw her long coat on the chair in the corner.

You watched in awe as she stripped off her clothing one by one, standing there in all her glory with the prettiest lace lingerie you’ve ever seen. María pulls you out of your daze with a glass of white wine, urging you to throw the sweet and sour beverage right down the hatch.

“Gotta warm you up somehow, princesa,” María encourages, swallowing all of her drink too. Alexia stands beside María, before grabbing her jaw to kiss her. They’re sloppy and noisy which only turns you on a lot more, hands itching to join in on the fun.

Alexia pulls away and grabs the bottle off the table, taking a long drag of wine before swallowing with a smile. She taps María’s cheek softly, before turning to you.

“Did you do what I asked, slut?”

You nod, standing up to take your dress off. It falls to the ground in a heap before you step out of it. Your skin shimmers from the light layer of sweat, eyes staring straight into Alexia’s as you walk towards her.

Her large, rough hands grab your waist when you get close and she smashes her lips on yours. Her hands knead and grab your flesh hungrily, large palms grabbing fistfuls of your ass before slipping between the cheeks.

There sat a bejeweled buttplug, still slightly wet all around from the abundant amount of lube you used. María’s slightly rougher hands slipped in behind you, her lips leaving little kisses all over your back. You kissed Alexia back hungrily, tongue fighting for dominance over the other. Alexia won, albeit with cheating, as she reached between your ass to play with the plug inside you.

You moan into her mouth just as she pulls away, a deep whine left in your throat. You’re about to beg for her to kiss you again but María beats you to it. Since they were much taller, they could easily reach each other over you. They kissed like you weren’t even there, Alexia’s hand cupping the back of María’s head.

They pull away and there’s a string of saliva that left with them, your pussy throbbing as you watched both of their tongues reeling it back in. You stand between them, skin hot and sweaty, thinking of all the ways this day could get any better.

María pulled you with her, a silk tie securing your arms behind your back. Another one slips across your mouth, your eyes darting over to Alexia, who sat on a bench at the foot of the bed with her legs spread wide. María held your hand and helped you kneel before Alexia, your eyes never leaving the Barca captain.

You watched as María stripped completely and turned to face you. She knelt with you and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. You leaned into her touch, breath tingling on her face. She kissed you and you fought hard to kiss back, the gag around your mouth proved to make it difficult for you to do so. But María didn’t care. She kissed and kissed and kissed, pulling away with a frown on her lips.

“Tsk, she’s not kissing me back, Ale. How rude of her,” María huffs, standing up and sitting in Alexia’s lap. Alexia’s hand comes around María’s waist and tightens its hold, eyes turning a possessive shade.

“That’s not a very nice thing to do, princesa,” Alexia reprimands, guiding María to sit across her thighs. María does, moaning slightly when Alexia’s hands grab fistfuls of her ass. You watch, arms aching slightly as you strain to pull away from your shackles. You whimper but get ignored, eyes filling with tears as you watch Alexia touch María exactly how she touched you that night.

“fuck princesa, love how you ride my cock baby.”

“yeah ale? you like watching me take your big cock hm?”

“Sí, es magnífico de ver”

Her hands grabbed your ass, kneading the flesh hard. She left one smack, then another, and another, and one more before grabbing your waist to hold you hip and fuck into you. You were seeing stars, eyes rolling deep and far into your head.

Your thighs shook, orgasm so close you could feel that tug behind your navel get stronger and stronger and stronger before the pull snapped.

María moaned, a grin spreading across her face as Alexia’s wet fingers filled her pussy. You watched as those same fingers that made you come endlessly that night made María’s eyes roll into her head too.

María cursed under her breath in Spanish, thighs riding Alexia’s fingers gently. The Zaragozan knew not to push her luck with the captain tonight, there was a certain buzz in the air that told both her and you that the captain was not to be tested tonight.

Alexia pushed three fingers deep into María to the webbing, her eyes held a dark, lustful gaze that both terrified you and made your cunt throb painfully. Your thighs were so wet and sticky, the scent of your arousal was obvious, you ground a little into the ground on your knees, the movement pushing the plug in your ass around just a touch.

Alexia had her lips wrapped around María tit when she caught a glimpse of you not paying attention. The fingers that were rubbing hard and fast on María’s sweet spot stopped. The latch she had on María’s tit loosened with a faint pop.

“Eyes up here, you whore.”

Your eyes dart over to the voice, fear washing over your face. Alexia stood and picked María up at the same time, throwing the defender onto the bed like she weighed nothing. María laid with her legs wide open, hands gripping the pristine sheets tight to keep herself from touching where she wasn’t supposed to.

Alexia towered over you, grabbing your arm to help you stand. She pulls you to the bench she was just sat in and gestured for you to kneel on it like you did on the floor. You gulped, looking at María in front of you who was smirking proudly as your eyes went over her legs, to her core, her stomach, her chest and finally glancing over her lips before making eyes contact with her.

She winked at you, the cheeky fucker that she was, which only made you feel more frustrated. Alexia left a soft kiss on your shoulder before joining María on the bed. She pulled the defender to face her, settling between her strong legs. The captain touched María gently, you noticed her eyes getting a little softer the longer she stared at her closest friend.

However, when María’s eyes darted to the sight of her in the mirror above them, Alexia turned back into her stoic self. It was like she had forgotten the mirrors and María had reminded her of them. Her head tilted to the left and up, a smirk growing on her face. Her gaze caught yours and you swore you were foaming at the mouth. Alexia pulled the silk tie from around your mouth and left it around your neck with plans to use it later on.  

“Enjoy the show, princesa.”

María didn’t have time to think about what was about to happen to her. Alexia, who had put on a strap somewhere between fingerfucking María and eyefucking you, pushed the head of the toy right into María’s slightly gaping pussy. María moaned but her eyes never left her reflection, hands reaching for Alexia’s thigh to hold on to. Alexia pounded right into María and you watched, the throbbing between your legs now insanely hard to ignore.

“Please Ale, please it hurts…”

Her hips never stopped moving as she looked over at you like you had asked for the weather.

“What hurts hm?”

An embarrassed blush came over you as you stuttered the words she wanted to hear.

“My pussy,” you whispered, knees sure to be bruised tomorrow.

“I’m sure María can do something about that.”

Alexia’s hips were still fucking into her hard as she helped you maneuver onto the bed, hands working quick to untie your arms. You straddle María’s face, taking a cheeky glance up at the mirror up top as well as the one that was behind Alexia.

Your brain had barely processed the sight of all the tattoos Alexia had on her back, as well as all the muscles that were hard at work fucking María, when her tongue lapped up at your soaking folds. Her tongue flicked over your clit and you could not form a sentence. Your jaw slacked and you held onto Alexia, who cooed at you adorably. Two of her fingers pushed themselves into your mouth and you gagged, eyes filling with tears as she forced your mouth closed and growled lowly for you to suck.

You do, tears falling down your cheeks as your suckled on her fingers and your hips ground down onto Mapi’s tongue. Alexia fucked Mapi with force, free hand kneading at your breasts.

“You getting close María?” she whispered, using Mapi’s real name humiliatingly, “Princesa?”

A muffled “Sí!” and begging nods from you, she increases her efforts to make her best friend come which spurs Mapi on to make you come.

The two of you come at the same time and you’re watching your expression the whole time in the mirror across from you, just like Mapi tried to in the one above her.

The room heats up and you climb off Mapi, kneeling beside her to kiss her pruning lips thankfully. You taste yourself on her tongue, moaning into her mouth before the silk tie around your neck is pulled on.

Alexia manhandles you to the mirror in the corner of the room, strap switched out for a new and slightly bigger one. She’s set the one she used on Mapi to the side, ready for when Mapi decides she wants round two.

But for now, Alexia focused her attention on you.

“The star of the show,” Alexia praised, hands caressing your clammy skin. She kissed along your shoulder as she stood behind you, nibbling gently on your skin.

Alexia reached around and fondled your breasts, making eye contact with you in the mirror. Her perfectly manicured nails framed your breasts, kneading them gently as they trailed down lower to your stomach, which tickled, and then to your hips and lower down your thighs. She knelt behind you, hands spanking your ass before spreading them. There sat the plug, looking a little hurt from being ignored. She pulled the metal thing out from you and moaned when it left a little gape, chucking it somewhere in the room.

You looked at María in the reflection of the mirror, mouth watering when you saw her lazily fingering herself. You were about to comment when a hot tongue pressed flat against your asshole. You keened just a little and reached back to cradle Alexia’s head, pushing your ass back into the feeling of her tongue lapping at your behind.

A hand snaked from between your legs to play with your folds, thick fingers rubbing tight circles over your clit. Your head was spinning, until you heard moaning from your left.

There sat Mapi, riding the dildo while watching you and Alexia.

“You two look so fucking good together,” she praised, gently pushing herself up and down on the silicone. She played with her clit, leaning back on her arm.

“Doesn’t she eat ass so well? I always love when she does that.”

“You’re one to talk Mapi, when you know for a fact you’re the one with the oral fixation.”

“When you taste as good as you do, you tend to develop those things.”

Alexia chuckles, leaving one last lick along your puffy behind. She looks at you in the mirror, smiling kindly.

“Bend over for me?”

You nod, kneeling in front of the mirror for her. You arched your back and watched as she lubed up her strap and teased your pussy. Just before she pushed in, she smirked and made eye contact with you in the mirror again.

“Eyes up here, princesa.”  

You nod, thighs shaking a little as she slipped into you. You moaned, eyes never leaving hers in the mirror. You watched as her breasts rocked in her lingerie with each thrust, yours doing the same under you. Her hands grabbed the silk tie around your neck and she gently pulled, barely getting you off your hands on your fingertips.

The air in your lungs barely cut off, just enough to deprive you of oxygen ever so slowly. But you were obedient and your eyes never left staring into Alexia’s, a loud, long moan snaps you out of your haze when the sight of you delirious sends Mapi into her second orgasm of the night.

As she trembles from the intensity of her orgasm, lips unsure of whose name to moan, Alexia grabs your hips and begins to pound into you intensely. You’re barely getting oxygen back into your lungs when she knocks it all out again, cock pounding right into your sweet spot hard and fast.

She flicks her loose strands of hair out of her face before pulling your torso up against her chest. Her large hand wraps around your neck from behind as her hips never falter, the other slips between your legs to flick at your hard clit.

“Coming, princesa?” she teases, “getting close, sí?”

“Sí, Alexia, s-so fucking close,” you whimper, voice barely audible. Mapi crawls in front of you and sucks on your breasts, fondling them gently. She flicks her tongue of your hard nipples and rolls one between her fingers.

“She told me you looked so pretty the last time you came for her, princesa. Don’t you want to show me next?”

“Sí Mapi, w–wanna show you, wanna be good.”

“You wanna come on my cock, amor?”

“Please Alexia, please,”

The hand she had around your neck squeezed just a little tighter and the dam breaks. You go limp in her hold, Mapi catching you as Alexia pounded into you through your orgasm. You come for 40 seconds straight, muscles spasming hard between the two Spaniards.

You wake up the next morning in a warm bed, the smell of pancakes filled the room. You were cuddled into María’s side, the Zaragozan fast asleep. You chuckled softly at the sight of her sleeping, mouth slightly open as she snored.

You climb out of bed and pull a shirt you found on a chair on, shuffling towards the smell of chocolate melting and coffee brewing.

“That smells delicious.”

“It better, they’re my mother’s famous pancakes.”

Alexia puts a fresh pancake on a plate and hands it to you. You sit in front of her and eat it, groaning at the delicious, fluffy treat in your mouth.

“—¿Bien?”

“Better than.”

Just as you finished the pancake, she piled your plate with two more. You ate quietly, taking in your surroundings.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“We both want you here.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means Mapi and I want you around on a more…permanent basis.”

“Is that your way of asking me out?”

“She has always terrible at things like this, princesa.”

Mapi emerges from the bedroom, seemingly awaken by the smell of chocolate too. She sits beside you and steals the bite you had made on your fork.

“But she’s right,” Mapi says quietly, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “What do you say?”

[livelaughlovesubs]

~ 07.10 - Nikolai ~

Dom!reader x sub!Enemy!nikolai - reader is gender neutral

Warning: sounding, edging, a bit orgasm denial, consent is kinda questionable, hair pulling, dacryphilia, begging, scratching, cum play, cum eating, violence, dick slapping, marking, pinching, bruises, mind break, sub space, teasing, use of pet name ‘good boy’, Nikolai being a masochist

~ Word count: 4.9k ~

Nini!rant: The idea’s from an anon and @me1z0 ! Ty guys~

Kinktober list 2024

The walls were damp, and green moss crept up the corners of the lifeless cell. It was dark and grey, rid of anything interesting, not even a lamp was present in this room. Instead, the light emerged from a huge window on one side of the wall, its weak lighting barely lit up his cell. Other than that, there was a sturdy door along with an equally strong chair. The chair was placed in the middle of this prison out of stone, and on top of it sat a white-haired male who wore tight clothes. His hair was loose and it reached the floor, his hands were tied carefully behind the chair and a grin spread across his lips.

Sounds of footsteps echoed throughout the tranquil room. They were rhythmic, eager, and firm, he could already guess who it was. What followed next was the loud slam of the heavy door. It got yanked open within seconds and a person emerged from the frame, then the passage shut tight again, destroying any chance of escaping. Your eyes scanned his room, eyeing him up and down suspiciously, trying to read his thoughts. That proved to be more difficult than desired since he was still keeping a psychotic expression under such circumstances, not caring about how he was being perceived.

You could basically smell the moisture in the air, how damp and humid it was. It wasn't an exactly pleasant smell, but neither of you seemed to be bothered by it. Slowly you made your way to the center, dragging another chair behind you. With a swift move, you positioned it before him and sat down comfortably, crossing your arms. After waiting for a while, you scoffed, “Not gonna say anything, jester?” He has always been like this. Unpredictable, illogical, and drop-dead annoying.

He laughed, before raising his head to stare at you. His eyes were heterochromia, they somehow appeared creepy, causing you to feel uneasy. “My, I get to have the first word?” Nikolai chirped, looking totally unfazed by the whole situation. “Go ahead, ask away, I can’t guarantee an answer though.” You replied, slumping back against the lean. Finally, after all this time, you managed to catch this clown of a man. It’s not that you failed previously, rather, he kept escaping with his bothersome ability and nullifying handcuffs didn’t seem to work well on him.

But you learned from your mistakes and perfected your plan repeatedly to get to this point. Since he needs his coat to activate it, simply removing it should suffice. On top of it you also had to prevent him from creating a new makeshift coat, hence the tight clothes and lack of sharp objects. “How nice you are, is it because we’ve been acquaintances for so long?” The male chuckled, and you slammed your fist against your chair, cracking it slightly. A few scratches remained on your skin, though you didn't notice the supposed pain. The man thought your vein was going to pop from how tight you bawled your hands.

“Don’t refer to us so intimately.” You snapped then continued with, “You’ve been nothing but a pain in the ass. It seems you don’t have anything important to say. My turn to pose questions.” After threatening him a little, he immediately yelled, “Hey! Don’t be so mean~ We do have a long history after all.” You listened to his complaints, to which you responded, “I’m not proud of that.” A fake sigh left his throat as he winced, “I’m so hurt~ then lemme ask, you wanna play some games before the interrogation?” Again with his unreasonable antics, you could feel your lifespan shortening whenever he opens his mouth.

No normal human would ask something this out of pocket while being interrogated after all, he was a special case in the worst sense possible. Someone deserving of the tightest surveillance for his creative methods. Yet you knew better than to question his motives because there’s simply no logic behind it other than what his twisted mind can come up with.

“No, it’s not the time for games and chitchat. My turn now.” He pouted at your answer, calling you a killjoy under his breath or avoiding your gaze. Such a childish man, how did someone like this get an ability? You furrowed your brows before interrogating him, “Tell me, who do you work for?” Nikolai tilted his head to the side, smiling innocently. “Why don’t you guess?”

Within a fraction of a second, you pulled out a gun and pointed it towards his head. You growled, patience running thin with each passing moment, “I don’t want to repeat myself, jester-” Despite the threat and importance of the situation, he interrupted you, correcting your choice of vocabulary with sarcasm, “Not jester, I’m a clown.” It was obviously just to spite you, look at him playing petty games. The corners of your lips twitched into an intimidating smile, eyebrows raised as you snapped, “Is that so? Then pardon my rudeness.”

He didn’t look nervous, eyes on the muzzle of the gun as he replied, “Such a brute you are, this is no fun at all.” Then the male exaggerated a sigh again, moving his head back to the point you could see the bottom of his chin before he turned back to stare at you, “Fiiiine, I’m a member of a terrorist organization, the decay of angels- or was it the death of angels? I don’t remember~” Nikolai joked, watching you in awe as your anger threatened to boil over. He could swear he saw smoke coming out. Your hand tightened around the weapon, gritting your teeth as you listened to him yap. It was time for the next question, that’s why you asked, “What are your motives?”

“Motives? Each of us has our own reasons. As for mine… don’t you know me well enough to have a hunch?" He taunted, his tone had a layer of mockery hidden behind it and his eyes suggested the same thing. This overconfidence of his was going to be his downfall. “Who can ever know what’s going on inside that brain of yours.” You spit back at him, a fierce look plastered on your face, unwilling to lose. “Are you saying you can’t fathom my thought process?” When he said that, it hit a nerve inside you. Was he calling you stupid?

“Then let’s make it into a quiz! If you can guess about 50% correctly, I’ll tell you everything.” He suggested a guessing game again, and you couldn’t help but click your tongue in annoyance, “Tsk, your iconic quizzes again. What happens if I lose?” The boy squeezed his eyes shut, seemingly deep in thought before chirping, “Absolutely nothing! It’s a win-win situation for you!” That was unexpected, you thought. After much contemplation, you eventually agreed, “Alright, I’ll consider this your last wish.”

You stared at his face, trying to recall all the information you had on him. He was a carefree, reckless, and dangerous man. Words like cold-hearted, crazy, and apathetic could also work. Was there more to him? It was hard to believe there’d be any reason behind his actions, considering the gruesome ways he killed. “You are a sadist who enjoys killing innocent people, which is why you joined a terrorist group. Also, you are a fucking maniac." Despite you outright spitting insults at him, he didn’t stop smiling and stayed calm. But a faint breath of disappointment stuck to his never leaving smirk, as if he was saying ‘told you’.

“Eh ehh, sadly that’s wrong~ I don’t actually enjoy killing people.” He admitted, wearing a sorry look on his face. “Who knows if you are lying or not.” You spat, eying him up and down with a skeptical look. “Do you have sooo little faith in me?” Nikolai tilted his head to one side, giggling and enjoying your baffled expression. “I’ll give you one more chance then, or old times sake!” He said as if he pitied you. Of course, this agitated you, how can he act like he has the upper hand when he’s your prisoner?

“Is someone forcing you? Not that your sentence would lessen.” Since you’ve been presented with another chance, you proposed a different answer but were met with the same response. “Also wrong! No one is forcing me, as I’m striving to achieve true freedom~” The boy sang the last part, like an eccentric, enjoying the situation even. His words or hints, no matter what he said, didn’t make any sense to you.

For you, these were sentences without any connections, or you had too little background knowledge to grasp the concept. Though you knew he wasn't all that dumb, well, to some degree. “Now, guess, how much of it was the truth?” Nikolai announced, a sheepish, amused grin spreading on his lips. How he loves to play mind games and to annoy you. “Now you know why I don’t trust you. You only talk in riddles.” You mumbled under your breath, taking your gun back while his gaze followed the weapon.

Once more, he found it boring how little reaction you had, calling you boring in his mind. “Not gonna kill me anymore?” The white-haired boy asked instead, raising his chin high in the air. “You know the answer.” With a sigh you rolled your eyes, he was smarter than this, he knew his worth as a hostage and source of information. It’d be a waste to have him dead already, and exactly because of these reasons you were annoyed beyond measure. If it wasn’t for the rules and regulations, you’d had his head rolling by now. “Consider yourself lucky.” You scoffed with an eye roll, standing up and walking towards him.

With his curiosity peaked, he waited impatiently, were you finally going to make a move? The uncertainty clutched his racing heart in a tight grip, feelings of unknown origins emerging from the depths of his consciousness. “You are getting excited. I wonder how long you can laugh, clown.” Much to your dismay, his eyes sparkled as he uttered, “Wahhh~ You remembered?! I guess all that time spent with you wasn’t for nothing!” Yeah, you shouldn’t have done him that favor, someone like him didn’t deserve any shred of kindness. He’d only use it against you in the end.

Without listening to him any longer you leaned over, pulling his pants and underwear down only enough to take out his cock. A slight blush crept onto his cheeks, he jerked when you touched his member. “H-huh..? What’s going on?” The tremble in his voice was apparent as his pupils followed your hands, arousal building inside him. This was an unexpected turn of events, was there more to your cold facade-? “Don’t get the wrong idea, it’s a torture method.” You smiled at him, a reassuring smirk dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh? Are you really gonna use such underhanded methods to make me speak?" Nikolai tried to bargain with you, all while doing his utmost to appear unaffected. In the end, he was all about having the act of an unpredictable clown. "No need to get frightened, I'm sure you'll come to enjoy it, considering your personality."

After listening to your prediction, he was almost eager to know what you were going to do, leaning forward to get closer to you. A slight pout on his lips as he thought sharply about what you had in store for him. His binds were uncomfortable and forced him to stay put, causing him to try and break them for a while, before slumping back into his seat, giving up on the idea of escaping. The boy sighed unsatisfied as he mumbled, "Alright, show me what you have in mind."

The two of you may be enemies, and your organization is not all that innocent either, yet you made sure to use enough lube on him. You didn't want to hurt him in that way, it seemed a bit too cruel. Minutes later, you covered his entire lower body with it, bathing his dick in lubricant. Afterward, you pulled out a thin metal rod and smeared it in lube as well. The way his expression twisted the moment he saw your little surprise for him was satisfying, to say the least. How his pupils shrunk ever so slightly and hands gripped the binds tighter, enough to bruise his own wrists, all while a hint of fear or lust built inside him. This was definitely going to be a new experience, one that he won't ever forget.

“Can you guess what I'll do with this?" You asked him, teasingly, to rile him up and make his emotions explode. "You are going to fuck me up with it, aren't cha?" Nikolai grinned widely, sweat dripping down his cheeks while he spread his legs a little further apart to grant you more access. It was also to signalize you that he was ready for it. “Since you know what this is for, I won't need to explain." You commented and held it elegantly as if you knew what you were doing, preparing the tool as well.

His breathing hitched at the sight of it, somehow watching your fingers work so diligently made his heart race. Then you lined the rounded end of the rod with the slit from his dick, slowly pushing the tip inside. On the other hand, Nikolai closed his eyes, biting his lip, and trying his best to not trash around. He could feel the toy stretching him from the inside, poking at places he never explored before.

Small whines escaped his thinly pressed lips, sounding like the painful groan of a hurt animal. "Nghh... d-dammit... ah." The man cursed as you pushed more of it in, cheeks flushed red as his dick got hard, leaking some pearly precum already. You could see the struggle just by looking at his body language, how he trembled and shook, sweating so furiously. A sense of arousal coursed through you at seeing this new, unfamiliar side of his. To think he could pull such an erotic face, watching him try to hold himself back was more than entertaining.

"Can you even take this?" You asked playfully, testing him. His eyes opened just enough to glare at you, squeezing out a 'of course' before going back to his muffled moans. You let him keep his pride for now, and focused on pushing more of the pole in, saying, "Fine, as you wish then." With each millimeter that was entering him, his blush darkened and his voice turned louder. At some point, his eyes became teary and his dumb grin returned. "Hmm!! Uh-uhgghh~ ah.. so rough, h-how much more...?" You could swear you heard some desperation in his voice, licking your lips before answering, "We are halfway there, be a big boy and take it~"

Then you used a little more strength than before to penetrate him, ending with him losing control and screaming your name with such ecstasy, "yyY/NN!! NggGHh~! Ahh it hurts, hurts so m-much ♡♥︎" Even though he was complaining, his expression was a totally different one. He was enjoying it, so much that his cock twitched while leaking twice the amount as before. God, he could swear he almost came in that moment, and he was sure you knew it too. "I didn't expect you to actually enjoy it this so soon." You chuckled, sticking your index finger through the ring at the other end to have a better grip.

The male in front of you was already a twitching mess, gaze unfocused as he stared at his own crotch, watching his dirty fluids seep out of himself. His voice hitched and he gulped loudly, whimpering at the slightest movements, "Nghh~ uh-uhmmf!" You waited until his excessive emotions calmed down a bit, then gave him a quick warning, "M' gonna move now." Before slowly using your finger to pull the rod out of his cock. "W-wait.. aaAAhHHH ♡～"

He threw his head back almost immediately, tongue rolling out while bawling his hands, his grip on the binds were strong enough for his knuckles to turn white. This time he couldn't hold back and trashed his legs around, which is why you put your hand on his soft thighs and pressed down, stopping him. "Don't move now dear, or I might break something I shouldn't." You warned him, pushing the toy back inside him. "MHhhh!! Ah-oohHH, i-is this supposed to be the to-torture?" Nikolai sneered behind broken sobs, those pretty tears finally spilled from his eye sockets.

"Concentrate on not passing out first, or this game will get boring,” you told him, tracing circles on his inner thighs to calm him down. He listened to you with defiance, obviously not happy with your answer. But all those thoughts were pushed aside the moment your hand began moving again. There's only one problem, you were painfully slow. It took so long for you to stick it in or to pull it out. Sure, it was still stimulating, but he needed more than that. He wanted you to be rougher, to really torture him. Oh if only you knew what a- "y/nnn~ please g-go faster? The Pain feels g-good ♡!" ...a masochist he was. Well, now you know.

"Such a perverted slut, boys like you don't get to tell me what to do." You snarled, pushing the whole thing inside again and grabbing his gland with your fingers. Crawling at it with your nails, scratching the skin. "AaaAAAHH..!! Y/n y/n!! H-hurt so much~!" Nikolai let out a scream akin moan, head thrown back and arching his back, all while his charming voice graced your ears. He was very loud, but his whines and sounds of pleasure were adorable, enough to serve as encouragement for you to continue.

"Why don't you stop the joking and tell me everything then, sir Clown?" You teased him, letting go of his dick not due to some pity, but rather because you wanted to try something else. This time, you spun the sounding rod around while it was still placed inside him, rubbing against his urethra and watching his face twist into some erotic expressions straight out of a porno. Eyes rolling back, hair sticking to his forehead and bouncing around, drool running down his chin.

All his blood was coursing to his cheeks or lower abdomen, precum getting everywhere and wetting everything. There was a puddle on the ground beneath him, and it only grew in size. "NGhh~ oOOhh, y/n it f-feels MHh! I-I can't, no m-more, please haaahHH♡♥︎" For a split second you were concerned if you went too far, yet all worries vanished the moment you saw the blissful expression he had. How his tongue hung out like a lewd doggy, figure shaking uncontrollably. "Oh god? Are you sure you want me to stop?" You asked him with raised brows and blatant irony, now changing your actions again. This time you moved it in and out of him as fast as you could, fucking into him, watching his pre gushing out like a fountain whenever it went deep inside him.

"HMnnGGHH..!! Oh- FuuUckkK! Ah-ah, too fast too fassst!!" He was groaning about the speed now, all while crying and shaking in his seat. His toes curled and a thin layer of sweat covered his skin, causing him to shine or glimmer. That once clean silver hair turned slightly dirty at the ends, his chest and ears now turning red as well. He could feel the stimulation coursing through his veins, gnawing at him, intertwining with the pain and being blended into an inseparable mixture. The hurt was turning into arousal, and soon his body, his nerves, and his heart couldn't keep the two apart anymore.

Each time you spat at him, insulted him or were mean, he could feel himself losing a piece of his sanity. "D-don't ghHuu, stop ♥︎, keep going, until m' sa-satisfied..." He was crying now, limps calming down a bit. The boy didn't squirm around as much, keeping a somewhat collected composure while watching you with heart-shaped pupils. "Tsk tsk tsk." You clicked your tongue, shaking your head in opposition at him, sighing as you uttered, "Have you already forgotten what I told you? You have to ask nicely, you don't get to tell me what to do, clown." And just like that, he lost any chances he had to cum.

You stopped moving your hand, or at least went as slow as before. "Ah..! D-damn it.. y/n~ can't you please go faster? I'm so cloooose!" He realized his mistake and decided to not argue too much, this time betting his chances on his puppy eyes. A small pat to his head followed, and then you cupped his cheeks before pinching them.

“How about~ you promise to tell me whatever I want to hear without any games or lies?" You should step up your game and remind yourself of your duty, which is why you proposed it multiple times, hoping he'll agree and obey your command. To push his buttons even more, you added a pinch to his milky thighs and said, "I'll let you cum if you do." Then you stopped doing anything entirely so that his stupid little brain could catch a break to think about your words. He snapped back from his short-lived subspace, staring at you with a dumb, frozen grin. "T-that's hmm~! so sly y/n, so meaan.. haaHhnn..”

"I've made it clear since the beginning, that this is supposed to be torture." You scooped up some of the filthy liquid dripping down his shaft and brought it to his lips, making him lick you clean. He winced at the taste but was obedient enough to just swallow it all. "Now, what will be your answer, clown?" Nikolai thought about it, though this time his thought process got interrupted when you began moving again, leading to him whimpering in full volume, "Ughh.. aAAHhhh.?!! I-i dun- mhm, know..?"

Suddenly you slapped his dick, and he groaned again, "mmMMHh!! Gu-ghHgnnn!! Y/nn~!!" A low sigh left your lips as you pressured him, saying, "You have to decide soon, I don't have all day and I don't mind leaving you like this." His ears perked and he begged for a tad more time, but to his dismay, you didn't listen. "HNg, Wa-wait.. ah..!! Too much, to-too fast mhhh~" With his long-awaited release coming soon and your little threats, the boy was overwhelmed, head spinning and malfunctioning.

It took so long for him to make up his mind, a melting expression on his face as he nodded, whispering meekly, "I-I'll tell you.. p-please, hnngg, lemme cum." That was easy, you thought, smirking at him gently and answering, "Since you agreed to cooperate, cum my little clown ♡" As soon as you finished your sentence, you went down on him again, abusing his red and swollen cock with the little metal pole.

"UHhmmm!! Oh please please pleaaaase, aAAhh! Don't s-stooOop!♡♥︎" He started blabbering without thinking about his words, too far gone to form coherent sentences. The veins on his hands became apparent, eyes unfocused and all fucked out. Knuckles as white as his hair due to his tight grasp on his binds, thighs shaking like they were made out of pudding. Sticky pre flowing down his now bruised thighs. Red dots plagued that area of his skin due to you repeatedly pinching and groping him there.

His toes curled, arch arched so beautifully into a crescent form, and shining fat tears decorated his naturally handsome features. That voice of his has become hoarse at this point, from all the shouting and moans. If only his personality wasn't so annoying, and if only he wasn't your enemy, you would have found him cute, maybe a little attractive as well. With a swift motion, you pulled the sounding rod out of him while wrapping your free hand over his tip, trying to catch as much of his cum as possible.

And god, heavens, the pleasure in that moment was too much for him to handle! His brain had already turned into mush at that point, but now it was even more broken! Chocked out whines and stuttered moans slipping past his filthy lips and he cried out for your name, calling out to you multiple times and begging without any reason, "y/nnnn!! Y/n y-y/nNN! So good, too much AaAHGGgnNn!! Please, I-i beg you please~♡♥︎" A shiver ran down your spine at this sight, this scenery of him being totally wrecked and pathetic. How vulnerable and helpless he was, and so awfully submissive. Who would have guessed he'd have such a lewd and adorable side?

Nikolai felt a knot tightening inside his stomach, it clenched and twisted, about to burst. This strange yet pleasurable feeling gnawing at him, tugging and squeezing him, it was too much, he couldn't ignore it any longer. "NGhHHH, gonna cum!! Cummin' cumminnn'!! I'm- aaAAAhHHHG!♡♥︎～" He yelled one last time, screaming until he choked because he didn't have enough air in his lungs anymore. Coughing violently while more broken noises left him, his voice cracking whenever he went too high.

Thick robes of cum spurt out of him, covering your hand, and running down your palm slowly. That was proof of its disgusting texture, it looked like slime and was still warm. "God you must have been pent up." You joked, watching it drip down your hand for a bit. While most of his semen got caught by your hand, some of it still landed between his legs, on the cement floor.

You gave him a few minutes to calm down from his high, watching his blurry eyes return to life. It took him almost three minutes to snap back to reality, to leave that little subspace he was in. Sweat and tears mingled, making his skin shine. The tips of his bangs were wet and stuck to his forehead, his eyes were half-lidded and swollen from weeping so much.

Once you deemed him conscious enough, you brought your hand over to his lips, ordering him to lick it. "Even if this is a prison, you are not allowed to defile it with your filthy fluids." Then you grabbed his chin, not bothering with his muffled protests, and clasped your hand over his mouth. Now he had no choice but to lick it, and like the little whore he was, he enjoyed it.

His wet and hot muscles moved across your skin, trying to lick up as much as possible to then swallow it. A heavy blush on his cheeks, one that hasn't left since the beginning of your session. You watched him with an amused gaze, saying, "You agreed to tell me everything, right? Otherwise, I might have to edge you even longer." He shivered, shoulder jerking upwards as your little threat. The now somewhat docile boy nodded to show he understood what you said, while his tongue rolled between your fingers. "Good boy. Never thought the day would come when you'd earn that title." You praised him, and a breathy and sarcastic laugh came from you.

Right now, he was still cleaning up the mess he made, frowning a little at the taste, or rather the thick consistency. It caused him to feel sick, but he loved every single second, it was just so arousing, and he could feel himself getting hard again~ in the meantime, you stroked his hair, patting his head, waiting for him to finish patiently. And as soon as he did, you grabbed his hair by the roots and yanked on them. The sudden pull was enough to make the chair trip over, ending with him not even having the time to gasp before landing face-first on the ground.

“Y-y/n???" How baffled he must be, hands still tied without any chances of escape and face now pressed into the mutt. "Clean it up, your mess." You muttered, finally letting go of him. Then you sat down on the chair you brought with you, arms crossed over your chest once more, this time wearing a relaxed expression, looking at him from above. The subtle power struggles made his heart flutter, blood rushing to his lower part again. He stared at you wide-eyed, then turned to look at the ground, seeing some drops of his white cum splattered there.

A low whine escaped his throat before he lowered himself, sticking his tongue out and licking it from the dirty ground. It was a bitter and unpleasant taste, he could feel the sand crunching and his stomach rejecting it. Yet he persisted, swallowing all of it and showing you his tongue after every gulp, to prove to you he did it. Nikolai could hear your light chuckles and see that content smile, he tried his best to position himself steadily and looked up at you.

What met your gaze was the face of a fanatic pervert who enjoyed every second spent to the fullest. Eyes bore that familiar haze, sweat still soaking his skin and body twitching with each word he voiced out. He used a meek yet lustful voice as he whispered with his remaining strength, "Like seeing me be your 'good boy'?"

Tags: @showtime-ss @thisisnotangel @ghostgoosygoose @i-dont-fooken-know @chuuya-brainrot @allyfoxglove @thigh-o-saur @fallenthemisticalyingyang @fem-dom-roze

Nini!rant 2.0:

Since I didn’t research anything for this one let’s talk about HIV (idk man)

Hiv is a virus, and it’s often mistaken for aids. Now let’s see, what are the differences between the two?

First, hiv is not the same as aids, though it can become aids over a long time (after ca. 10 years). While it’s developing, it doesn’t have any visible effects except when you get infected with it. Cuz then you’ll get symptoms akin to the flu, or about a week or two, and because it’s identical to the flu, many people get hiv without knowing.

Even though there is no cure for hiv, it can be neutralised with medicine. There are also tests you can buy to see if you have it, but it’s still the best if you do a check up. And the great thing is, if your body takes the treatment well and if you also eat according to your then given diet (by your doctor) it won’t develop into aids. Instead, it will just be a virus that lives with you and does nothing. Like, you won’t even be infectious to other people and can have kids or live long.

The only downside is the repression medicine makes your body weak, so it’s easier for one to catch illnesses or have the symptoms stronger than the average.

Anyway, people with hiv who are undergoing treatment are safe, there is no harm in engaging in intercourse with them since they aren’t infectious. Also from what I’ve heard, they do check-ups every month to see if the medicine works so rest assured.

[callsigns-haze]

I love your Tyler fics so much, I just love imagining dad/husband Tyler 😭😭 can I please request something where he always introduces her to people as “my wife”? Like they’re newlyweds and he just loves slipping in “wife” whenever he can 🥹

The Weight of a Word

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Chapter of all fluff

A/N: So I reached 500 followers today and got a few fics done...

The sky above them was a shifting tapestry of dark clouds, a fitting backdrop for the storm-chasing team that had just reunited. The air was thick with tension, the thrill of the chase palpable in every glance and gesture. But amidst the chaos, there was a lightness to Tyler Owens, a quiet joy that radiated from him like sunshine breaking through the storm clouds.

Tyler stood by the team’s van, his arm casually draped over Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her close. They had been together for years now, but something had changed in the past few months—something that Tyler couldn’t quite keep to himself, no matter how hard he tried. He was still basking in the glow of their recent wedding, the memory of saying “I do” still fresh and vivid in his mind. It was a feeling he cherished, a pride that he carried with him everywhere they went.

“Tyler!” one of the team members called, approaching with a wide grin. “You ready for this? We’ve got a big one heading our way.”

Tyler nodded, his eyes flicking from the sky to his teammate, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to share his happiness, had to let the world know how lucky he was. “Yeah, we’re ready,” he replied, a grin spreading across his face as he gave Y/N’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “By the way, have you met my wife?”

There it was again—that word. It rolled off his tongue so easily now, but every time he said it, he felt a surge of pride and love. Wife. The title still felt new, like a shiny badge he got to wear every day, and he couldn’t help but show it off. He turned to Y/N, his eyes sparkling with affection, and she smiled back at him, clearly amused by how much he enjoyed saying it.

The teammate chuckled, extending a hand to Y/N. “Nice to meet you! I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” Y/N replied with a grin, shaking his hand.

Tyler watched the exchange, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. He loved seeing her here, a part of his world, blending into the life he led so effortlessly. And more than that, he loved the way she looked at him when he called her his wife, like she was just as thrilled by the title as he was.

As they continued to prepare for the storm, Tyler couldn’t resist sneaking in the word whenever he got the chance. Introducing her to anyone new, he would say it with that same proud grin—“This is my wife.” Even in casual conversation with the team, it slipped in naturally: “My wife thinks this storm is going to be a big one,” or “We’ve been talking about this since before we got married.”

It wasn’t just the word itself that mattered, though it did make him feel like he was part of something bigger, something more meaningful. It was the way Y/N’s eyes lit up every time he said it, the way she would squeeze his hand or lean into him just a little bit closer. It was the way she made him feel like he was doing something right, just by loving her, just by being proud to call her his.

As the storm began to close in, the team started moving with more urgency, checking their equipment and finalizing their plans. But even in the midst of the chaos, Tyler couldn’t stop himself from glancing over at Y/N every now and then, his heart swelling with affection. They had always been a team, but this was different. This was forever.

“Tyler,” Y/N said softly, drawing his attention as they stood together, watching the sky. “You know you don’t have to keep introducing me like that, right?”

He looked at her, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “I know, but I can’t help it. I just… I love saying it. I love the way it feels.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head slightly, but the warmth in her eyes told him she understood. “Well, I love hearing it. So I guess we’re both happy.”

Tyler leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and then pulled back to look at her. “I promise, I’ll never get tired of calling you my wife.”

“And I’ll never get tired of being your wife,” she replied, her voice soft and sincere.

As the wind picked up and the first raindrops began to fall, Tyler knew they had to focus on the task at hand. But even as they ran to their positions, as the storm loomed ever closer, he couldn’t shake the joy that filled him every time he said that word.

Wife.

It was more than just a title; it was a promise, a declaration of his love, a reminder of the life they had chosen to build together. And no matter how many storms they faced, no matter how wild the weather got, Tyler knew that this was the one thing that would always anchor him, the one thing that mattered most.

As they stood side by side, ready to face whatever the storm would bring, Tyler took Y/N’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. And with a smile that reached his eyes, he whispered one last time, just for the two of them:

“My wife.”

Requests for Tyler are open be free to send in as much as you wish!

tagging some:

@senawashere

@saviorcomplexrry

@cevansbaby-dove

@saynotononsense

@missdottie

@willowisp7

@taorislover94

@eloquenceinpurple

@86laura11

@rosiahills22

@jessicab1991

@kmc1989

@shanimallina87

@eternalsams

@teen-antisocial