#wide-eyed alex is different

[geeky-nightphilosopher]

Maybe it's the hair- maybe it's the personalities...but;

Wide-eyed Alex Walker is totally different than wide-eyed Eliot Spencer.

[harryslittledaydreamer]

His Sunflower...

Summary: Everyone knew of superstar Harry Styles. Everyone knows he has people working for him behind the scenes. However, not everyone knows who his secret lyricist is. Her name never in any credits, never mentioned, and never once in the media. But that's how she likes it.

THIS STORY INCLUDES: trauma, SA, muteness, smut, relationships, talks of mental health(anxiety, depression, panic disorder), and death(no main characters)

........................................................

"Hey y/n/n," the familiar deep voice sounded tiredly behind me. I turned my attention from the piano in front of me to the green-eyed brunette in the doorway, making his way into the studio. I looked in his direction, never meeting his eyes, gave a slight small smile and nodded in acknowledgement.

Turning back to the keys, I continued playing a melody I had started early this morning. Grabbing my notebook from beside me, I began writing some lyric ideas down, when suddenly I felt a presence overlooking my shoulder.

"Mitch and Sarah are coming in a few minutes to work on some pieces, do you need anything," Harry asked with a tired but fond smile. I shook my head politely and he nodded, walking away.

—

Let me backtrack a little. I've been Harry's lyricist/songwriter for about a month now, however, I've never spoken a word to anyone since being here. Well, actually, I haven't spoken in about five years, and with me currently being twenty-two, that has been since I was seventeen. I began posting melodies and lyrics on a website, and Harry's producer, Alex, stumbled across me one day, and messaged me on Instagram, asking if I would want to write for Harry. Immediately I turned the offer down due to my muteness and social anxiety, but with a lot of persuasion and going back and forth, I reluctantly agreed. A week after that, he invited me to a cafe to meet up with himself and Harry. Alex, could definitely tell that I wasn't a physical contact person, and opted for a polite head nod as enough of an introduction rather than a hand shake. Harry followed suit with a smile, though not without some curiosity.

Our initial meeting wasn't long seeing as I didn't talk. Alex went over some things, and Harry talked about what he was looking for, to which I nodded and smiled. At the end of the meeting, I typed a quick 'thank you' on my phone and smiled at both of them. The following day, Alex invited me to the studio, and the rest is history.

—

"Hey y/n/n, hey Harry," Sarah greeted with a wide grin in both of our directions. I gave a little wave, and Harry went in for a friendly hug while patting Mitch on the shoulder. After the greeting encounter, everyone got in their space and began messing around with their instrument.

After about an hour or so of writing and switching to play different melody ideas, I stood from the piano bench, and made my way over to Harry. His green orbs looked down at me, and I handed out my notebook with some lyrics I had written.

Licking his lips and picking his lip, he began reading the script. After what felt like an eternity, he looked up.

"Y/n, this is absolutely bloody brilliant," his deep British voice sounded. I offered him a small smile in return.

"Guys come over here, look what y/n/n wrote, " he spoke motioning for Mitch and Sarah. They got up and walked over to us, and began reading my notebook. Waving my hand a little to get their attention, I motioned them over to follow me to the piano. I sat down with their eyes on the back of my head, and began playing the melody for the song. On the last note, I paused and looked behind me. Each of them had tears threatening to spill down their faces. I'm guessing my look of alarm made Harry snap out of it, and he gradually started to clap.

"y/n, that was beautiful, bloody perfect," he said fondly grinning. Mitch and Sarah nodded agreeing with Harry. Mitch slipped from the group walking over to his guitar. He began to play some chords syncing to what chords I played on the piano. For some time, he messed around, came up with a cool picking pattern, and that is how From the Dining Table, my first song written for Harry styles, was born.

……

2 weeks later…

Myself, along with Harry's other band members, were called in for a meeting this morning. No one was told what this meeting consisted of, or the importance of it.

Gathering my tote bag, with some essentials stuffed in it, I slipped my converse on, took a deep breath, and made my way out of my apartment. I don’t drive, so I walk everywhere, including the studio. Upon approaching the building, I spotted Mitch and Sarah laughing about something walking through the front doors. Watching my footsteps until I reached the double doors, I felt my heart begin to race. I was nervous that maybe they were letting some of us go, or the team wasn’t doing well enough. Overwhelmed with my thoughts, with my eyes on the floor, I ran into a figure.

“Whoa, hey y/n/n, careful love, you okay?” a concerned Harry chuckled a little while placing his hands on my shoulders to steady me. Eyes wide with fear of retaliation on his part, I immediately stumbled back away from him with a curt nod, and continued making my way to the conference room.

Eventually, we all settled in and sat around a large table, everyone seemingly a little confused on why we were all there.

“Hello everyone, today, we are announcing to you all that we will be going on tour in six months from now. You all have been working tirelessly, and we thank you for that. With that said, we all need to be cracking down on this new record,” Jeff, Harry’s manager announced with a big grin plastered on his face.

A round of excited applause went around and everyone congratulated Harry with hugs and words of gratitude. Staying in my seat in the far corner, I looked up and met eyes for the first time with the green eyed Brit. For the split second he caught my eye, I think he saw the fear and anxiety behind them. Touring is a huge thing, for any artist, especially someone the size of Harry. Artists are always creating new music, so having a songwriter along the ride will hopefully aid in the making, at least that’s what Jeff said to me after the meeting. Of course, I responded with my usual nod, and proceeded to leave the room along with everyone else. As I was making my way to the side door, I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay going on tour? I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything. I totally understand and respect if you don’t, I-” I cut his rambling off by softly putting my hand on his and gently nodded.

The look of surprise crossed his features due to the physical contact I initiated. He gave me a warm smile and nodded, while I gently lifted my hand from his. I flashed him a gentle smile goodbye, and continued my way out.

.......

six months later...

"Mitch, Sarah, Charlotte, Pauli are in bus one, Niji, Ny Oh, and Elin are in bus two, and Harry and y/n are in bus three..." Jeff anxiously listed as the rest of the crew and I grabbed our bags. My head immediately looked up, and with wide eyes, I felt my heart drop. Nerves flowed through my veins, and I guess I wasn't hiding it well as I thought I was because Harry looked over and gave me a shy sympathetic smile.

I nervously followed his lead to our respected bus, but not without my hands shaking and lip between my teeth. As my feet made contact with the bus floor, I took in the space. Black slick leather coated the slim couch on the right, facing a small kitchenette and tv. Walking further, I slowly followed Harry back behind a black curtain, that I now know are to the beds. There was one on each side, with storage above for our bags.

Harry reached up to put his duffle bag in the compartment above the left bed, and then made his way over to me with a smile.

"Here," his deep voice gently said while reaching to take the bags from my hands. I quickly but gently let go once his hands met mine on the bag's handles. He lifted them into the similar compartment as he did just moments before, but above my bed.

"I'm gonna shower and head to bed, you are more than welcome to do as you please, and please don't hesitate to get me if you need something y/n/n," Harry tiredly said, seeing as it was now 11pm. I offered a small sincere small nod in appreciation.

He continued to get his bag and head towards what I am assuming is the bathroom, as I got my bag down and placed it on the mattress. I closed the dark colored curtain, took my sleeping shirt out of my duffle, and slipped it on. Realizing I still needed to take my meds, and brush my teeth, I waited for Harry to come out of the bathroom.

A short while later, after taking care of my nighttime routine, I climbed back into the bunk, shut the curtain, and laid on my back staring at the ceiling. Just thinking about the fact that Harry was across from me had my anxiety over the edge. Although I have worked with him over the last half year, and shared occasional friendly encounters, I still didn't trust him, or for lack of a better word, his intentions. Every single man in my life has betrayed me in so many different ways, each resulting in pain and hurt. I couldn't say no to this opportunity though, due to the need for money. Living in an apartment in Los Angeles was not cheap by any means, as well as every other cost that is associated with living. I have no one to fall back on if something were to come up, so being independent has been the only way for me to continue and live.

As my eyes began to drift close, I heard a slight snore a few feet over from Harry. Taking a deep breath, I relaxed my shoulders and drifted to sleep, hoping for no nightmares. Or at least none that would wake up the man across from me.

—-

It’s been about two weeks since the tour started. Saying that everything is hectic is an understatement. Crew members running around, stress etched in everyone’s faces, and the noise of thousands of fans every night has everyone feeling the effects.

Throughout this time, I’ve been writing a lot, as well as trying to find some time for myself. Sharing a space with Harry is difficult. Well, sharing a space with anyone is difficult. I can tell that Harry is increasingly worried about me due to the fact that it’s been almost 8 months and I still haven’t spoken a word out loud. I can tell he’s trying to get closer to me and warm me up. I think that’s why I’ve been slightly distancing myself from him. Getting close to people has only hurt me throughout my life, and I don’t have the capacity to take anymore pain.

During Harry’s show today, I decided to find a quiet space in the arena away from the chaos to write. Deep in my thoughts and hand beginning to cramp, I didn’t realize a figure making their way towards me.

All of a sudden, from my crouched position with my knees bent, a large calloused hand gripped one of my knees. Looking up in surprise and fear, I was met with a scruffy large older looking man, who had a smirk etched on his face.

“C’mon sweetheart, let’s go somewhere else,” the deep voice of the stranger demanded. He grabbed my elbow and tried forcing me up. I tried resisting his grip but I was far too weak to slip out of his hands. He dragged me by my arm, looked both directions in the hallway, and pulled me into a dark room. Suddenly, the light flicked on and he locked the door behind us. I realized we were in some kind of supply room. Eyes widened in fear, I tried to grab the door handle but he was quicker, and grabbed my wrist.

“Don’t even try, bitch,” he laughed mockingly. Tears started welling up in my eyes, and my body shook in fear. The man pulled a roll of duct tape from behind him off a wooden table, unraveled some, and began binding my wrists above my head. His calloused dirty hands grabbed the hem of my pants and roughly pulled them down, along with my panties. Refusing to look at him, I tried focusing on anything else in the room to distract me from the upcoming abuse.

I heard his buckle unlatch and suddenly I felt a deep stinging pressure below. Tears streamed quickly down my scared face. The hands harshly grabbed my bound wrists above me as he started to roughly thrust in me. For what felt like hours, I guess he assumed he was satisfied, so he redressed himself, ripped the duct tape off from my skin, and unlocked the storage room door, leaving me alone with the mess he made.

My body was in shock. The tears stopped minutes ago, but the strong pain and ache remains between my thighs. I slid down the white cinder block wall, curled into a ball, and stared at the wall in front of me. I’m not sure how much time had passed, but I eventually stood, and limped out of the small room. No one was in the hallways as I made my way out. I grabbed my forgotten notebook off the ground, and started making my way back to the dressing room area. Reaching the door handle of my dressing room, I opened it and closed it behind me, and walked to the couch adjacent. I sat there staring at the door in front of me. Any sounds from the outside were drowned out by the shock that took over my body.

“y/n, we are getting ready to leave,” I heard a voice say from behind the door. I couldn’t get myself to move an inch, paralyzed by fear. I’m guessing it had been a few moments since the person who called me, and the handle turned, indicating someone was coming in.

“Hey y/n/n, we are getting ready to-, y/n love, are you ok? What’s wrong?” the worried and confused voice of Harry gently asked. His footsteps grew closer, breaking me from the trance. For the first time in a while, I met his green worried eyes. Standing up, swaying slightly, I stood a few feet from the 6 foot tall Brit. Stepping forward with hesitation, and tears starting down my face again, I walked towards him, and laid the side of my cheek against his chest.

I can tell this startled and surprised him due to his tense body language. I needed comfort. Even though I wasn’t nearly fully comfortable or trusted him, I needed something or someone to ground me. Once his gentle hands met behind my back, softly embracing me, that’s when I broke. Tears rushing down my face, heart racing out of my chest, shaky legs, and I started falling to the ground. Luckily, his hold on me tightened and held me up before I fell further.

“Shh, it’s okay y/n, it’s okay love. You’re safe, you’re okay,” he spoke with sincerity laced in his voice. I couldn’t tell you how long we stayed like that, but he began guiding me out of the dressing room, down the hall to the double doors, leading out to our bus.

I don’t know if it’s the years of neglect, or lack of human contact, but I clung to Harry’s body in the bus. I couldn’t get myself to leave his side. He didn’t seem to want to let go either though. He rubbed my back and spoke comforting words to me as I clung to his torso.

“You don’t need to tell me what happened if you don’t want to, but please promise me y/n, that if you are hurting because someone hurt you, you need to let me know okay?” he said. That’s when I started sobbing again, and that answered his question.

“Shh it’s okay love. I’m right here. Let’s settle down on the couch okay?” he motioned for us to the leather couch. I think he could sense my hesitation because he assured me over and over again that it’s okay. He gently motioned for me to turn on my side. Once on my side, he asked if it was okay if he held me. Although I was petrified and scared, I still apprehensively nodded in agreement. He shifted his body so he was holding me from behind. His arms wrapped around my fragile frame.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but I woke up feeling a weight around my torso. Realization settled in that Harry was spooning my fragile frame. I felt his breath tickle my neck, and I shivered slightly. He must’ve felt my movement because I heard a yawn from behind me, signaling his consciousness.

“Good morning y/n,” his deep morning voice rasped out, as he untangled our bodies. As his arm started pulling away, I unconsciously stuck out my hand and grabbed it. I needed his safety from the world. His face contorted into a surprised look, but as quickly as it came, the look of guilt settled in his features.

“I won’t leave, I promise y/n/n. I just need to use the toilet,” his quiet voice said. I hesitantly nodded, letting him go. As soon as he was gone from my sight, I felt the weight of yesterday’s encounter.

Harry’s footsteps grew louder as I heard him walk back in from the bathroom. As I slowly stood from the couch, his green eyes studied me. My body shook and his large hands were on my shoulders in seconds.

“Here, let’s sit back down, yeah?” he said as a response to my body’s motion. I nodded solemnly and sat.

“I’m not sure what happened yesterday, but I need you to know, y/n, that I’m here. I’ll listen. I’ll do whatever you need me to do okay?” his voice sounded as he sat next to me. Taking a deep breath, I nodded, gently looking up into his green eyes.

….

It’s been a few weeks since the incident, and over that time, I’ve gotten much closer to Harry. Although I can definitely tell he is worried about me and what happened that night, he has since left the decision up to me on when I’ll tell him, or someone, what happened.

During down time, I’ve been writing different lyrics and melody ideas down in my journal. I have completed a song called Matilda, and another called Fine Line. Lyrically, I feel very strong about them, though I'm not sure if the tempo will be too sad for Harry’s type of music. I’m planning on bringing my ideas to Mitch sometime, and hoping he can play around with some instrumental ideas for them.

Besides Harry, I’ve been very jumpy when a male comes into the room that I don’t know. To be fair, I already was due to childhood trauma, but now it’s way more apparent. Harry gives me a look each time he sees the way my body involuntarily flinches, but chooses not to say anything about it, to which I’m very thankful for.

Each night since he held me on the bus couch, he’s let me in his bunker to sleep. Having the weight of his arm allows me the safety I need. When I’m about to fall asleep, he softly kisses the back of my head, and secures his tattooed arm around my torso.

Right now, we are on our way to the next tour stop. Harry is sitting with headphones on, watching some movie on his phone, while I’m adjacent on a seat watching out the massive bus windows. It’s been almost a year since meeting Harry, and at no point has he given me a doubt about his intentions and personality.

See, my last relationship ended up with bruises littering my body, cuts along my skin, and fear etched in my mind. He would throw me against walls, yelling at me for literally anything. He drank and drank until bottles scattered the floor, leaving me to clean up the mess. He would use my body for his own enjoyment and pleasure. I would be left sore for days, all for him to do it repeatedly. One day, on his way home from work, he was involved in an accident, which killed him on impact. As awful as it is to say, relief flooded me when the news broke. His older brother took the house, leaving me with absolutely nothing. I worked odd jobs while having to live with my abusive father. He would smash things against my head, and would lock me in a bedroom for hours on end, without food or water. That lasted for a few months before I had saved up enough money for an apartment. That’s when I began creating on the website where Alex had discovered me.

Fast forward to now, I have come to realize something. I’m developing feelings for Harry. It’s absolutely terrifying to me. Butterflies erupt in my fragile chest when his eyes rarely capture mine, or when the warmth of his hand lingers on me for comfort. His once intimidating aura is now replaced by a sense of safety. When approaching new males, whether it’s at a stop or another venue, he always somehow uses his body to gently shield them from my own.

Shifting his body, my attention focused back on the man behind me. The headphones were off his head, and his phone was placed beside him on the couch. “Hey, I just wanted to let you know that our stop is coming up,” his tired, raspy voice rang out softly. I nodded, making a small amount of eye contact, and mouthed ��thank you.’ His pink lips turned up into a small grin and proceeded to watch out the window behind the couch.

Once the bus came to a halt, Harry and I stood from our respected areas, and made our way out. Following him into the arena, the sense of dread engulfed my body. Since that night, being without Harry by my side has caused anxiety to bubble inside me. He has insisted I stay in his dressing room during the entirety of the show, for my safety and his peace of mind. I wasn’t going to argue or debate that.

After hours of writing when the bands on stage, they finally run off stage and enter their dressing rooms. Hearing a soft gentle knock on the door, Harry slowly appeared and came in. With a wide smile and adrenaline rush, he walked over to me.

Suddenly, I felt his arms wrap around me gently.

“Hey y/n/n,” he whispered exhausted in my ear. I slowly brought my arms gently around his torso, reciprocating his action. I felt him smile in my hair. I could tell he is exhausted, mentally and physically, from the demanding performances he puts on. I’m not sure how long we stayed engulfed in each other, but he slowly lets me go, and steps back.

“I'm sorry, I just really missed you,” he shyly spoke, blushing slightly. I looked up to him in confusion, seeing as I had seen him a few hours ago. Sensing my confusion, he proceeds to explain himself.

“I just, I don’t know, I love spending time with you y/n,” his shy, sincere voice sounded as he proceeded to take off his outfit, opting for something comfortable. A smile graced my now rosy face. A comfortable silence fell over the small dressing room as he dressed, and as I gathered my notebook.

We walked in silence, Harry in front of me, to our designated bus. As we got in, I tapped Harry on his shoulder softly. He turned around, eyebrows raised in question and lips parted to ask a question, but I cut him off before he had the chance. I hugged him, tight, needing to feel his warmth. Startled a little bit, I felt his arms wrap around me, even tighter. It seemed like we both needed each other’s comfort tonight, and an unconscious agreement to not talk about it.

——

Today marks six months since the tour began. It also marks three months since I’ve realized that I have grown feelings for the pop star.

Tonight is a rough night. Harry woke up with a cold, making his throat sore. He of course powered through the show, however, as soon as he entered the dressing room, I could tell something was really off. His eyes briefly met mine, and when the door shut behind him, he began undressing himself with a slight hint of frustration in his movements. I stood up, and followed behind him to the bus after he changed.

Upon entering our bus, he sat on the couch with his face in his hands. I heard sniffing and could see that he was very distraught. I’d never seen Harry like this before and I didn’t know the reason behind this reaction. Cautiously, I slowly walked and sat next to him on the couch. Sensing my movement, he placed his hands from his face, down on his lap, but kept his head lowered.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this y/n/n, I’m just so disappointed you know? I didn’t give them my best tonight and they paid and traveled to see me, and I feel like I disappointed everyone, fuck” he whispered at the end. I hated seeing him like this, he pushes himself so hard, too hard.

Despite the hesitation and voices screaming at me in my head to not do this, I softly laid my hand on top of his on his lap. His body tensed for only a moment, but his other hand raised slowly and settled atop mine. I heard a deep breath sound from his lungs as his body visibly relaxed. It took everything in me to not get up a run to my bunk, but I could tell he needed me. I needed him.

By the end of the long draining night, we settled on the couch. His muscular tattooed body behind mine, with our body heat engulfing one another. Thoughts raced through my mind, as I danced around the pros and cons of continuing getting closer to Harry. Throughout this competition in my brain, I must’ve fallen asleep due to the sun now shining through the bus windows.

I slipped away from the couch, and walked quietly to the shared bathroom. Looking at myself in the mirror, I came to a realization. I’ve never felt more safe in my life than I do with Harry. And that realization is fucking terrifying.

——

Weeks later, I found myself cuddled against the British man once again. There was definitely growing tension between us as we started sharing more intimate moments together, like this. I began to take notice of his lingering stares on me, his delicate but affectionate touches, and the warmth we both seemed to feel with one another.

We were watching a movie on the small bus tv, and my head laid on his shoulder. Suddenly, his body slowly moved, making me lift my head off his shoulder. His facial expression clearly held anxiety, and sensing my confusion, his voice began.

“y/n, love, I need to get something off my chest,” his anxious yet cautious voice said as his body turned to face me. Anxiety started to fill my veins, thinking of every worst scenario that could play out. Before my thoughts could go any further, the deep British voice carried out once again.

“Fuck it, I’m just gonna say it. I have feelings for you y/n. I have for a while, and I know that’s wrong because we work together but I can’t not say anything anymore. I know you don’t feel the same, which is absolutely okay love, I-” his voice rambled with nerves and worry, but I gently grabbed his face with my hands on his cheeks, interrupting his little speech. Taking a deep breath, I leaned in, so our faces were merely inches apart. Our eyes met, and he began to close the small gap between our lips. My hands fell from his face as his rose to mine. As our lips touched, every ounce of worry and anxiety melted away. Our lips moved in sync with so much longing interlaced. He gently pulled away, and rested his forehead against mine, with a wide smile gracing his now slightly swollen pink lips.

“Well, that was a great way to get me to shut up,” he chuckled against my face. A small giggle escaped my lips as our eyes met.

For the rest of the night, we stayed cuddled up on our usual couch, just holding each other until we fell asleep.

——

Over the following weeks, the band noticed our new found chemistry with each other and eventually figured it out. They all congratulated us, and were so excited.

Nothing has really changed between us, besides the stolen kisses and hand holding. However, I felt myself beginning to want more. I trusted Harry so much, which is crazy to say given my past. In his dressing room during the shows, I have been practicing using my voice. Since it’s been so long since I last spoke a word, it has been proven difficult, but I am determined to start again.

Tonight, everyone was staying in a hotel instead of our buses due to bad weather. It was safer inside there than the buses, which I think everyone was actually happy about considering we haven’t had an actual bed in months.

With our hands intertwined, Harry got our room key and led us to our suite. As we stepped inside, I heard a quiet “shit” escape Harry’s mouth. There was one bed laying in the middle of the room.

“I’m so sorry y/n/n, I was told there were two beds, let me go see if there’s another room with two,” his distressed voice said as he was about to leave the room. I gently grabbed his arm, momentarily making him stop in his tracks. I looked at him and shook my head. I mouthed ‘it’s okay” with a small smile on my lips.

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind going down-” I cut his rambling off with a small quick kiss to his lips.

We set our bags on the ground, and Harry turned around to put the tv on. As he did, I got my pajamas, really his shirt and boxers that I stole, and I headed to the bathroom. After showering, I dressed myself and finished getting ready for the night. As I stepped out, our eyes met. This was the first time he’s really seen me like this. A blush crept onto his cheeks as he stared at my body. He quickly looked back down to his phone, and pulled the duvet up higher on his body. A little shy smile came over my features realizing how cute he was when he was flustered.

Pulling my side of the sheets down, I climbed into bed, next to him. I could tell he was a little tense, and I was about to type on my phone to ask him what was wrong, however, as he bent down to grab his fallen charger off the nightstand, the duvet fell down slightly, revealing Harry’s problem. My eyes grew wide as I quickly looked back to the playing tv. A blush rose to my cheeks as he settled in back next to me. As time went on, he grew antsy and couldn’t stay still. He looked uncomfortable and I could tell he was trying really hard to keep it together.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom really quick,” he quickly said as he tried to conceal the tent under his shorts, before trying to stand. I do appreciate him trying to not make me uncomfortable, but little did he know, I wanted him. As he was about to stand and swing his long legs off the side of the bed, I grabbed his wrist.

Our eyes met, his embarrassed but mine full of love. I held my hand up to stop him, as I made my way out of the bed, walking over to his side. I stood between his short-covered legs as he looked up at me in question.

“It’s really okay, I’m sorry, I was gonna go sort this, uh, out,” his flustered voice said as he was attempting to stand back up. I shook my head and placed my hand on his arm, to let him know it’s okay.

I nervously leaned down to kiss him. His lips pushed back against mine but I could feel his hesitation to keep going.

“Are you sure, love?” his deep raspy voice whimpered with hesitation and lust. I nodded reassuringly and brought my lips back to his.

I reached to pull his shirt over his head but his hands pressed on my shoulders to stop me. Before I could do anything else, he said, “let me y/n, I want tonight to be about you, don’t worry about me, I promise.” I simply nodded in agreement but not without nerves shining through my brown eyes. Standing up, he switched our position so I sat on the bed and he stood above me.

“Lay back for me love, I want to make you feel good, yeah?” he whispered with lust filled eyes. Following his words, I moved back on the bed, and shifted my body so my head was on his pillow. He moved to the end of the bed and got on his knees by my feet. He tapped my leg for me to open my legs a little wider to allow him to come closer.

With his request, I moved my legs to the side, and he moved forward.

“Are you positive about this love? We don’t need to do anything. We can stop anytime, just push me away or pinch me,” he spoke sincerely. I nodded with a smile and reached for him. I gripped the bottom of his shirt and began lifting it. He helped me and threw it off his torso somewhere in the room. Tattoos littered his skin and heat radiated off. His eyes met mine for consent to take mine off. I nodded with a shy grin and he proceeded to gently peel mine off. Left in a bra and his boxers, I moved my arms to wrap around myself.

“y/n, love, you are so beautiful, no need to hide my love,” he spoke as he gently moved my arms away from my stomach, to my sides. With his arms on either side of my face, he met my lips with his own. Our tongues danced together as my hands went through his soft curls. A small groan ripped through his chest as I tugged more.

“Can I?” He asked as he kissed down from my lips to my chest, in question to remove my upper garment. With slight nerves, I nodded. With my consent, he tapped my torso for me to arch my back, to allow him access to unclasp my bra. Swiftly, the garment was dropped beside the bed, now leaving me even more vulnerable.

Before I could even think about shielding myself, his lips came down to peck over my exposed chest. He whispered “beautiful” every time he came up for air. His mouth hovered for a second before landing down on my nipple. With a deep breath let out, I felt myself getting hot. He gently sucked one while softly kneading the other with his large hand. My hands gripped his hair tighter in pleasure as his tongue swirled the swollen nub. He alternated between both for a few minutes, until I gently pulled him up. His face was visibly flushed and I could feel the warmth coming from his body down below.

I stared into his green eyes, silently pleading for more. Understanding, he nodded and grinned in silent acknowledgement. His hands found their way to the last piece of clothing on my body. His fingers hooked around the sides, gently pulling them down, away from my body. There I laid, bare, in front of a man. This was the first time that someone cared about my comfort and pleasure. Harry took his time admiring every inch of my body. As his eyes landed on my exposed thighs, his expression faltered for a moment. I knew what he saw. Old scars of the abuse I endured littered the soft skin. Although his gaze lingered, there was not one trace of disgust or anything but love that filled his orbs. Instead, he bent down and kissed from my lips, down to my thighs.

“Is this okay? Are you comfortable y/n/n?” he questioned. I nodded and encouraged him to continue. With my approval, he brought his hand lower. Despite the anxiety of the situation, I felt safe in his hands.

Once his index finger slipped below, a quiet moan slipped from my lips. A grin appeared on his face as he felt my arousal. Using my arousal, he gently glided his finger through my folds. He began to rub my clit with precision and a softness in his touch, as he captured my lips once again. He knew the weight of the situation and how much this was affecting me. Disconnecting our swollen lips, he silently asks for permission. I graciously nodded, and I felt the tip of his finger nudge my opening. Taking a deep breath, I felt him begin to slide in a little deeper. Stilling his finger, he let me adjust. I leaned up to kiss him, and he took the hint to go forward. He slowly curled his finger inside me. A moan escaped my lips and I quickly put my hand over my mouth in embarrassment.

“Hey, no, none of that love, let me hear you, yeah? It’s okay, I got you,” he whispered. He started going a little faster inside me and my body began to tremble. With my eyes rolling back, he whispered little words of encouragement as he slipped another finger beside the one already in me. I felt a little burn, but it was quickly replaced by even more pleasure. He pumped them in and out, curling them up as he went all the way in. I felt a deep burn in my stomach, indicating my orgasm was quickly approaching. I reached down for his hand, and he immediately stopped. I mouthed ‘I want you,’ and his eyes turned an even darker shade of green.

“You are positive love? We don’t have to, I promise,” he said in reassurance. I shook my head with a smile and reached for the hem of his boxers. He helped me out and took them off his toned body. His red leaking cock bounced up to his stomach. Butterflies erupted in my stomach at the sight. He climbed off the bed quickly, and went to his bag. Grabbing what I was assuming was a condom, he got back in between my legs.

“Alright, shit, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful. This may hurt or burn a bit, Love, but just squeeze my hand yeah?” I nodded and as he rolled the latex on, I leaned up to capture his lips. His hands went to my breasts and my head was laid gently on the pillow below. He grabbed hold of his cock, and brought it up to my pussy. Gently sliding his tip through my folds, he teased my clit a little. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he guided his tip to my entrance. I grabbed the back of his neck, bringing his face to mine. As he slipped his tongue in my mouth, he pushed a little further in. Closing my eyes, my heart began to race. Feeling the unsteady beating of my chest, Harry brought up his face.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay my love, you’re safe, open your eyes, it’s me, Harry,” his soft delicate voice spoke. Upon opening my eyes, a sense of security fell over me and I felt safe again. He peppered kisses over my face and he agonizingly pushed in a little bit more. A whimper escaped my throat, and before he could say anything, I brought my hand to his back, and pushed his lower body closer to mine, resulting in him bottoming out. I moved my hand to hold his tightly as a burn fell over my bottom half. Taking everything in him, he stilled inside me, letting me adjust, not only physically, but mentally too.

We stayed in this position for a few minutes, and during this time, I fought the internal battle in my mind. Part of me wanted to tell him I loved him while the other half was scared and not to, cause then it would be real.

I lifted his head from my shoulder, and looked into his eyes. Opening my mouth, after years and years of not speaking, my voice began to sound from my chest.

“I love you,” I whispered. Frozen. That’s what Harry was. Frozen. He stared at me with wide surprised eyes as he was processing the fact that I spoke.

“Oh my god,” he finally whispered with tears glazing his eyes and the biggest smile I’ve seen.

“You… oh my god, I love you so much, so so much,” he whimpered into my hair. Shifting my hips up, he got the hint to begin moving. As he thrusted slowly but deeply, my nails scratched his back. He wouldn’t stop whispering how proud of me he was and how much he loved me.

“I'm close,” I said after a few minutes.

“Me too, my love,” he responded after a second to catch his breath. I could tell he was holding back for my sake. Every single moment of the time I have spent with him, has been nothing but love. His thrusts began to pick up a little, and before I knew it, pleasure rippled throughout my body. My orgasm came over me as harrys did for him. His sheen glowy body stilled as he came down from his high inside me. As he was about to pull out, I stopped him and placed my hand on his hip.

“Please stay,” I whispered pleadingly. Nodding, he positioned us so we were chest to chest on our sides. I felt him growing soft inside me, but feeling him close, after being alone and scared for so long, was needed. With my head in his chest, under his chin, he soothed my skin delicately by rubbing over it. With the post-orgasm rush, our bodies were exhausted. With a final kiss to my hair, he whispered “I love you, my beautiful sunflower.” Before I could question the new nickname, his breathing shallowed out, indicating his now sleeping body.

I can finally say that I am safe. I am loved. I am comforted. And I am in love with Harry Styles.

The End….

[denpamen]

Dolph Laserhawk’s body language in episode 3 and why it’s actually really interesting:

To start, I want to point something out. I’ve seen the scene between Dolph and Alex construed as romantic, or Dolph considering reconsidering getting back with Alex, but I cannot help but believe that Dolph is in fact, absolutely terrified.

This glossy, wide-eyed look is not the look we got from Dolph in episode one when he was feeling romantic, content, and relaxed. When this happens, his face, eyebrows, and eyes are Relaxed.

In fact, we only see him make this face in episode 3 and only ever in the presence of Alex after Jades death in episode three. He is even frozen enough to give Alex time to lean in and kiss him. And you might be asking, who cares, he’s scared of Alex? So what?

Well, there’s a multitude of reasons why Dolph’s body language matters so much. But the first thing my mind immediately goes to is the difference before and after Jade’s death. How does he react around Alex before Jade’s death? Well it’s simple, tunnel vision around revenge just gives him anger, nothing else, no fear, no sadness, just anger. He doesn’t care about anything else at this point.

This shift, especially following the scene where Dolph looks at Jade’s blood on his hands (pointed out by another user, I’d link the post but I can’t find it.), shows an incredibly important shift in Dolph’s character. Not just that he starts to give a damn, but this forces him to look inward. He was raised to be a cog in the machine, nothing but a crutch to Eden’s or Alex’s plans, nothing he did ever mattered or changed his inevitable fate, and it still doesn’t, but it changed others’. His callousness and inconsiderate actions killed Jade. This is the first time he’s been hurtful and cruel without there being a puppet master, this is the first time where instead of being helpless, he realizes he can hurt people with just his words and actions and not his gun.

He’s afraid. He starts to care.

This starts the chain of events that makes Dolph care enough to break out of the VR and save bullfrog, on top of being genuine to Sarah, even touching her shoulder (wow!). The change in his eyes, all by themselves, represent this change.

However, there is something much much deeper I’d like to talk about. Something that I actually haven’t seen pointed out. One that is integral to Dolph himself, rather than the overarching plot.

Why is Dolph so scared of Alex? Genuinely, why? He’s so much stronger than Alex, they aren’t dating anymore, why is this a fear we only ever see in his eyes when he sees Alex? I mean we’ve seen Dolph scared before, but it’s not the same at all if you ask me.

When he looks scared in those scenes in episode 3, it’s in a way that makes him look almost, small. Why?

Because what Alex did to Dolph, all of it, is unique to Alex. What we are seeing isn’t just fear, the reason he shrinks away from Alex’s touch, the reason he gets that specific look in his eyes isn’t just fear. It’s trauma. It’s that traumatized boy who was taken away at a young age inside of him, it is not a grown man who’s afraid of pain and death, it’s a boy who’s scared of being lied to and having his feelings hurt again. This is something really, only Alex could ever bring back out. The fear after Jade’s death only just cracks his shell.

I think this stems from the unique dynamic of someone who’s been manipulated and emotionally abused and the perpetrator. When one is abused, especially in the ways Dolph was, even when there is no possibility of being hurt and abused again, the fear lingers, not of the abuse but the memory to be relived. The look of their eyes and the feeling of their hands is world ending, it guts you inside and out in a much worse way than dying ever could. (Especially since Dolph tries to get hit with a missile right after this). Dolph is terrified because every time he has to look in Alex’s eyes, he has to relive it. No pain or threat of death can recreate the raw emotion around years of lies and manipulation.

Listen, I know Dolph leaves a lot to be desired in terms of background story and writing, but I think the way his character shows trauma is mind blowing. It is very subtle, in a releastic hurtful way. Seeing Dolph Laserhawk, who’s not even scared of death, shrink in terror at the touch of someone who hurt him, is a good parallel to how many people would genuinely rather die than go through it again. Dolph touched my soul a lot, and the body language in this episode was beautifully woven to tell his story. I hope we get more of this in season 2. (God forbid I even discuss episode 4.)

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

Like Birds on a Broken Branch | 4

Monster! Task Force 141 X F!Reader

Previous Chapter / Masterlist

Context Warning: NSFW! Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Mentions of Dub-con/ Non-con, Oral Sex, Voyuerism , Author's Poor Attempt in Dark Fic, Mentions of Slavery, Ghost and his poor attempt of rizz

“You smell of Price,” Mactavish said as he sniffed on your skin.

You were on their Green House, at the west side of their Fortress. Inside was a lush garden of plants, from trees to flowers. From the harmless to the ones who could swallow an animal. And on one corner of the secluded place, they had a hammock large and sturdy enough to accommodate three people.

John shifted to his side and placed his toned arm over your stomach, making the hammock sway due to his movements. “Did he fuck you?” he asked, breathing against your neck.

You closed your eyes, already feeling exhausted when it was still afternoon. “No.”

“Good, it was deal with us, after all,” Ghost spoke from your other side, making you flatter your eyes open and turn your head to face him.

“All of this was a deal?” You questioned and clenched your dress.

“No, not all of it. Just the fucking part,” Simon responded with a huff.

The explicitness of his words made you wince.

“The deal was to fuck you at the same time when you're ready.”

You jolted up, throwing Soap’s arm off you, and you stared down at him in disbelief, eyes wide and jaws slacked. One or two of them at the same time was already tiring enough, but four at the same time?! Utter madness!

“That's why I said to be thankful there's only four of us,” Mactavish reminded you, taking your hand and intertwining it with his.

“Why . . . Why wouldn't you all just get a woman for each one of you?” You asked, directed to both of them, but the wraith remained silent, so the incubus answered on their behalf.

“That's a lot of money, Bonnie.”

You glared at him and pulled back your hand from his hold. “You're a fucking noble. You've got money.”

“Why waste it when we all like the same woman?”

You gazed at him and felt a lump in your throat. Did these fucking monsters even know the concept of love? Honestly speaking, were you any different from them when you didn't even know what it meant to love?

“Oh, there you are,” a silvery voice came from behind the lush plants and Kyle, along with Price. The three of you sat up as the other two marched up to you.

“We've got an invitation from Alex to his ball,” Price announced, which got your eyes settling on him as he fished out five envelopes from his pocket and handed it to each one of you, leaving one for himself.

You eyed the design on the paper before bringing it up to your nose, sniffing the calming scent that you would usually get on books.

“A ball, for what?” Mactavish questioned, tossing the letter down his lap.

“Seasonal ball as well as a . . . party for us nobles and their newly bought females,” the King said, crossing his bulging arms.

You stared at the envelope in your grasp. 

“Oh, so a showdown in disguise.” Mactavish laid back down on the hammock and took your waist to pull you in his arm, but you sat firm. His eyes narrowed at your back.

“Not just that,” Simon claimed, “but also a massive sex party.”

You felt like hurling at the thought of seeing other women being assaulted by monsters in public and the imagination of yourself being one of them, made your stomach turn and shoot up your lunch to your throat.

Your hand clasped over your mouth and closed your eyes to stop the sickness from getting over you. A cold, thin sheet of sweat coated your skin, and their words of . . . what? Worry? Joy? You couldn't tell. All their voices jumbled in your ears along with the ringing beats of your heart.

Your back arched as a warm hand slid up your thighs, a hum echoing softly in your ears, and a warm breath fanned your neck. You tried to open your eyes but merely managed to get a glance before a hand landed on them, keeping you blind.

But you knew that hum, even if you hadn’t been in the fortress for long.

Jonathan Price parted your legs open and placed himself in between, teeth gently grazing the sensitive skin, before biting down. You whimpered in pain and a soft laugh rubbled from his throat, licking over the spot he bit as his hand traveled beneath your shirt, finding itself a breast to play with, his calloused fingers massaging the bud.

A moan escaped past your lips, trembling as his tongue made its way from your stomach to the band of your undergarment. But he did not bother to remove it and started to plant open-mouthed kisses until he found your folds, chuckling at the wet spot on the thin fabric. You found your hand grasping the sheets of the bed, the other on the demon's hair, as he sucked on your clit, till his tongue made its way to your opening, pushing in and pulling out, and getting drunk on your fluids through the fabric.

You voiced out a beg for him to stop, but your words drowned in the middle of your moans, the lewd noises echoing in the room, and his groans, to the point your senses had become mushed. Then, he removed his hand from your eyes, and you blinked away the blur, frowning as you took in your surroundings.

You were in a room different from your chamber. Price had himself propped between your legs. Simon and Kyle sat on either side of you and you glanced behind you and saw John. Your pulse raced as you noticed his eyes glowing gold, a warning. You flinched as the incubus hooked his finger into your underwear and pulled it to the side.

“Watch him,” Mactavish took hold of your jaw, pressing kisses on your temple as he turned your gaze to Price. “See how he’s eating you good?” But before you could utter a word, he shifted your attention to the other two. “See how they’re turned on at the sight of you?”

You lowered your eyes to see Simon reach under the waistband of his pants just as Kyle proceeded to pull down his pants, tugging his cock out free.

Mactavish continued to touch you, fondling your breasts, and lowered his voice, commanding you to watch the other two pleasure themselves. You did, as though you were a puppet in his hands, and thrust your hips up to Price’s mouth.

Fuck.

It felt good.

And it felt too good to be true.

You jolted awake, shooting up in bed and clutching at your dress as an orgasm ripped through you. You breathed heavily, sweat dripping down on your skin, and you grimaced at the wetness and aching pulse between your thighs.

Fucking incubus. This was his doing!

You threw your legs off the bed and stood up on your feet, but staggered forward. You uttered a curse as you caught yourself and dragged yourself towards the door. You grabbed the knob, resting your forehead on the door, before gulping, your throat itchy from the dryness. You turned the knob and pulled the door open, your breath hitching when a hand clamped over your mouth.

“Quiet.”

A deep voice echoed in your ears and you blinked at Simon, who pushed you back in your room as he entered. You shook off his hand and stepped away from him.

“Why are you up this late?” he questioned, his voice sounding a bit stifled through the mask he wore. Instead of the usual black fabric, this time, he got a balaclava with half a skull stitched on. To boot, he had a hood over his head, a part of his cloak that kept his massive body hidden.

“Night . . . mare?” you said, eyes going up and down on his get-up. 

“Nightmare?” he echoed and nodded. “Oh, I guess it’s a nightmare for you.”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “That incubus used his magic on me, didn’t he? And you know it.”

“Yes.”

You glowered at him. “So, you’re here to finish what he started, is that it?”

He extended a hand to the side, invitingly. “Want me to?”

Your face flushed and you turned away. “I don't — I'm not—”

“So worked up, aren't we?” He crossed his arms. “Like I said, I'm not forcing myself to ya.”

“Really?” You scoffed. “Then, why are you with them? Why did you also buy me?”

He tilted his head to the side and stepped closer to you. You stepped back, and he took one forward. The process repeated until you were back into the wall, with one of his hands slamming next to your head.

“You can be this dumb.” He leaned down to your level, closing the gap between you. “I know you're not. So, why’d you keep on asking stupid questions?”

“Because this whole system is stupid!” You exclaimed, dabbing a finger on his chest. “If you differ yourself from them, you're fucking fooling yourself because you are not any better than them.” You turned away, but he wrapped his hand around your neck, slamming you back to the wall.

“There's a fucking tiny thread holding my self-control right now, and it's about to snap,” he said, almost growling.

You raised your brows and pulled a mocking smile on your face. “Is that the only thing that differs you from them?”

“Right now, yes.”

“Because the only thing going into your brains is breeding women.”

“And I'm about to show you how we do it.”

Simon began dragging you and threw you to the bed. You bounced onto the mattress and he did not waste a second straddling over you.

“Fucking dog—”

“Quiet.” He clamped his gloved hand over your mouth, once again stifling your curses.

Monsters liked it—loved it when their females were submissive as fuck, dependent on them like fucking babies who had no chance of survival. Monsters hated it when their pet would bite their hands.

Simon flicked his finger, and shadows bound your wrists above your head.

Simon liked neither. So he could say he was different than most, even his brothers-in-arms acknowledged it. But you, the female, refused to accept it.

You were strange. He didn't know how to deal with you. Not that he had dealt with any women before. And you being his first wasn't fucking helping.

He could understand the submissive part, sure. Pretty little thing barking at him only to whimper under his touch a moment later.

But had those men, those other monsters never thought of the delight in the sight of women in equal understanding as them?

Simon removed his hand from your undergarment and pulled down the hem of your dress. With a flick of his finger, your wrists came unbound and the moment he pulled his hand from your face, you jumped away from him, going further up on the bed.

He sighed and pulled his balaclava down back in place. “Sleep. I will be here to keep Johnny’s magic from you.”

“What . . .” You trailed off, confusion veiling over your mind. “What?”

“I said—”

“I heard it,” you snapped back. “But, uh, why'd you . . . why did you stop?”

“You want me to continue?” He tilted his head and something ached between your thighs. You shook your head and he scoffed. “Then, go back to sleep before I change my mind.”

You hesitantly flopped back down on the bed and stared at the canopy. How the fuck were you going to sleep with what just happened?

“Close your eyes,” he demanded. “It'll help.”

You turned your head on his way. “You read minds?”

“No.”

Silence blanketed the room.

You tapped your fingers on the sheets. “When is that party happening?”

“ In three weeks.” He placed a hand on the bed. “Mind if I lay down with you?”

You remained still for a moment, before slowly shaking your head. You watched him sit down on the bed and reach down to his boots, untying them and shaking them off. Then, he proceeded to remove his cloak, letting it fall on the floor, revealing his muscular stature clad in a tight-fitting shirt. For a wraith, he was big—even bigger than the king of dragons himself by a few centimeters.

Now, would that mean Simon’s dick would be bigger than Jonathan? Even if you could heal fast, wouldn’t it still hurt a lot when they both fuck you at the same time?

Simon laid down next to you with a loud sigh, not bothering to remove his balaclava.

“Is there . . .” You paused and cleared your throat. “Can you tell me more about the party?”

His eyes settled on the canopy and after a moment of silence, he spoke. “It’s also the time some kind of  . . . politics happen between nobles.”

You nodded quietly and once again he fell silent. Then, your eyes wandered the room. “How many women have you brought here?”

In an instant, he claimed, “None.”

You frowned and repeated, “None? Liar.”

“First, you call me a dog, now you call me a liar?”

“Matters of facts—”

“Matters of your own opinions,” he remarked, forcing you to shut your mouth, and he continued. “You're the first woman we bought.”

You raised a brow at him. “Then, you're as inexperienced as I am?”

He shifted on the bed, now turning his body at you. “We wouldn't be if we do it right now.”

Next Chapter / Archive of Our Own

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[earl-grey-teacake]

Since James is wrapped around Logan's little finger, what about Jenson (the other British dilf in Logan's life)? Seeing Jenson look so proud around Logan in the Williams videos is so cute, and i bet it'd be so cute in the Baby AU! Jenson 100% would end on Sky with a sleepy Logan who refused to let go of him and just ended up on TV! George and Alex show up for post race interviews (both eager to be done with it and get back to their baby boy) only to both screech to a halt when they see Jenson holding their baby while interviewing Esteban

(Oscar sees Logan on TV alongside Jenson and an Alpine driver!!! He screams down McLaren at such an atrocity! He doesn't understand the difference between facetime and TV that well, so he doesn't understand why Logan isn't responding)

I saw the photo from the William Launch where he just looked like a proud dad and I knew I needed to write something with him in it! This was also a hilarious prompt and I kept laughing as I was trying to answer it.

Please enjoy the little fic below and apologies for any grammar mistakes since I am writing this at night. 😅

****

“Let’s go take a walk,” Jenson cheerfully walked out, having kidnapped borrowed the baby from the William’s garage.

“Ba! Ba!” Logan clung tightly to the Sky Sports Presenter, staring wide-eyed at the crowds of people and camera crews running around.

Jenson stepped around camera crew and avoided the wires as he made his way to the media pen. A couple people were gathered there despite the race not having yet ended.

“Nico! Nico! Look what I got!” The blonde man turned around and gave a confused look.

“Where did you get a baby?” 

“Say Hi, Logan. Nico was also a William’s driver.” Logan looked up before turning around and hiding his face in Jenson’s shoulder.

“Aww, don’t be shy. He won’t bite.”

“Who’d you take him from?” Nico waved, causing Logan to smile a little bit and wave back.

“From the William’s garage, he’s Alex and George’s kid.” Jenson held him up for Nico to see.

“Do they know that you’ve taken him?” 

“James does. I shot him a text.” Meaning he saw Logan playing, picked him up, shot a text, and walked out before even confirming if James had read and approved it.

“Are you going to carry him the whole time?” Logan was already starting to get sleepy as he rubbed his eyes. The afternoon sun was really warm.

“Yeah, hopefully he’ll take a nap. He refused to sleep earlier. Also, he won’t let me go.” Turning so Nico could see the tight grip Logan had on his jacket.

By the time the drivers came to do media, Logan was completely knocked out. His head was settled on Jenson’s shoulder as the presenter fiddled with the microphone.

As the drivers came and went, all were quite surprised at Logan’s appearance. It was rare for the baby to be seem outside of Williams given his fairly introverted nature. Between Max’s and Checo’s interview, Logan had woken up and found himself quite content fiddling with the wires attached to Jenson’s microphone.

“Ah, Esteban!” The Alpine driver walked up with a smile on his face.

“Hello Jenson and hello Logan?” The driver looked the baby who had decided the microphone wire should be in his mouth.

“Yeah, the kid wouldn’t sleep earlier so I took him out. Excellent race by the way. How are you feeling?” Jenson asked, moving to take the microphone wire away.

Alex was getting antsy as the interview kept going on. Logan hadn’t slept well in the morning and barely ate any food, not even the strawberry yogurt he loved so much. The faster he gets back, the sooner Alex could feed him and hopefully put him to bed. George, who was next to him, was also just as nervous. He was always a bit more neurotic and the fact that Logan wasn’t sleeping or eating properly was really getting to him.

“What’s your thoughts on the race today, Logan?” Esteban asked baby who had found great interest is playing with Jenson’s paddock pass.

“Ba! Babababa!” Logan spoke into the microphone.

Logan? Alex whipped his head around to see his child trying to gnaw at Jenson’s media pass.

“What is he doing here?” George asked.

Alex quickly moved over to where Esteban was much to the delight of his son, who reached out to him. 

“Hey, Alex!” Jenson greeted, handing over the wiggling baby to his father.

“Hey!” Alex laughed, taking Logan into his arms. “And how are you Logie? Did you have fun?”

Logan instead just wrapped his arms around Alex’s neck. “Awww. I missed you to.”

Oscar was in his carrier watching the TV when he saw a familiar face appear. He knows that blonde hair from anywhere. He was still peeved at the fact that If he hadn’t taken a nap earlier he would have been able to play with Logan right now.

“Lo! Lo!” Oscar pointed at the TV, smiling and cheering as he saw his best friend on TV. He waved his arms in the hopes of getting Logan’s attention, believing the TV to be just a larger Face Time call. “Lo!”

His smiling and cheering soon turned to what can only be explained as deafening cries when the camera turned to Esteban Ocon. The moment Oscar laid eyes on the blue and pink, he lost it. “WAHHHHHHH!”

The whole garage turned around, some of the staff rushing over to see if he’s been perhaps injured. However, a quick turn to the TV gave them all the information they needed. However, the move to turn the TV off only exacerbated his cries.

“Lo!” To poor little Oscar, McLaren had essentially abandoned Logan, had tossed him into the river unaided, had left him alone and defenseless with Alpine. It was awful enough that they existed but now they have taken his best friend as well.

To say the garage was noisy was an understatement. Lando came back to such heart-wrenching cries that he thought Oscar was gravely injured in some way. Instead, his poor baby clung to him and in between sniffles and coughs, called out for Logan.

“Hey, we’ll see Logan soon. It’s okay.” Lando rubbed Oscar’s back.

“O!” As if on cue, Logan, carried by George, made his way towards the McLaren garage.

“Look Oscar,” Lando nudged his child to look up. “Look who it is.”

Oscar looked up with wet, teary eyes to see what can only be described as a miracle. His best friend in the whole wide world survived his encounter with Alpine.

****

Thank you for the ask! Please feel free to send more!

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Cod Men with a Monster!Reader (PT. 2)

Requested: No

Warnings: ✨Spice✨, Somnophilia, Human Consumption, some traditionally Female monsters but I wrote them GN

Alex - Naiad

Alex was on a mission in the heart of a deep and dense forest when he found you, having gotten separated from his team and left stumbling through foliage and low hanging tree branches. And then he found you. You were naked and splashing around in a river that was so clear that he could see everything. You seemed to be oblivious to his presence, your humming mixing with the sound of rushing water as you moved around.

Then you turned to him, and he was liked that your eyes completely white, ears slightly pointed at the ends, a faint shimmer like glitter on your cheeks. You stared at him and he stared back, entranced by your gaze and your beauty.

And then you beckoned him closer, and it felt like his whole brain just shut off, barely even taking the time to strip himself of his gear before he was wading through the surprisingly tall water just to get to you, watching you coyly swim backwards, a mischievous grin on your face.

It would take him a moment to catch you and when he did, it was only because you let him. Let him haul you into his arms and breathe against your face,let him run his hands over your body, cup your face and kiss you so sweetly that it could make someone cry. But all it did to you was make you hum, soft and pleased against his lips, letting him drag you to shore and invade your body, all while scraping sharpened nails down his chest and back, marking him for all the nymphs that surrounded your river to see.

Your human now. You weren’t letting him go back to his people anytime soon.

Alejandro - Succubi

Bad dreams were frequent for Alejandro. And if he wasn’t having them, then he got nothing. It was disappointing but he couldn’t escape into a more peaceful reality, even for just a few short moments, but such was his life. That was, until he started having those dreams.

At first he dismissed them as a fluke, a one in a million. It had been so long since he had had a wet dream that he was sure he wasn’t going to have it again.

But then it came again.

Dreams of you, someone he had never even met, under him. Splayed open and whining, clutching at him, calling for him, begging for him. It went straight to his cock, leaving him aching and dripping, covered in his own cum when he’d shoot up in bed in the morning. He didn’t understand.

It was affecting his day to day life too. He was more tired and that was affecting his attitude. He became more snappish, stricter, crueler almost. And there was this feeling on his chest, like someone was nuzzling against him all the time. And when he laid down it felt like he was being crush by something.

But today he was determined to get his rest, taking two of the sleeping pills his doctor had prescribed him (even though the bottle said only one), and curled in on himself like a baby, trying to ignore that feeling in his chest as he drifted to sleep.

Only he dreamt again. But this time it was different. He could tell he was more awake this time as he pounded into you from behind, bullying his cock into your entrance as you cried and writhed, trying to fuck yourself back against him, calling his name. Alejandro. Alejandro. Like it was some sort of prayer for safety as the room around you crumbled, revealing the truth to his eyes as he awakened.

You, speared open on his cock, wide eyed and clearly shocked at seeing him awake. He was certainly surprised as well. Of all the things that he expected, this was not one of them. He would have liked to pretend that you were some pervert, some lunatic that broke into his room, but your horns and tail were a dead giveaway that this was not anything of the normal variety. Especially with how your tail kept rubbing against his leg like some sort of needy pet.

He flips you under him, smirking at your squeak as he starts rolling his hips, watching you go cock dumb for him as he uses your body to his liking, determined to pay you back for all the sleepless nights that you had caused him. It was only fair after all.

Horangi - Kumiho

His things were going missing. And when they weren’t going missing, they were being moved. It was Horangi’s only clue that something was different than usual. It felt like someone was constantly shifting the world just a little bit to the left every time he turned his back or did so much as blink. It was the most annoying experience he had ever had the displeasure of enduring.

Everyone was subject to his wrath while this was happening, even his superiors. Demanding to know who was playing these “pranks” on him and why they would do such a thing. Everyone vehemently denied having any part in what he was saying but it did little to deter Horangi from interrogating each and every one of them to no avail. Eventually he got sent home to calm the fuck down while his superiors investigated.

But when he went home and found that these same events were still happening, he knew something was off. No way any of his teammates had managed to sneak home with him, let alone stay hidden. This was his home, he knew every nook and cranny of this base, down to its very foundation. If anyone was here, anyone human, he’d know.

Cue a ransacking of his own home, throwing around clothes and knick knacks to get to any sort of hiding spot in his home, checking every possible entrance and exit, a man gone mad in an attempt to find someone that wasn’t actually there.

Or so he thought, until he felt something hard drop onto his head and bounce onto the floor beside his feet. He looked down, looking at the shimmering and glowing marble by his feet, bending down to carefully pick it up. He….was sure that he didn’t own anything like this.

Something brushed against the back of his neck when he stood back up and he immediately whipped around to face it, surprised to come face to face with a….was that a tail? It was definitely a tail. A tail that was connected to a human being when he looked up slowly, your eyes wide at getting caught red handed, all nine of your tails fluffed up in panic.

Well….that explained that at least.

Keegan - Ghoul

Keegan was visiting the graveyard when he met you, flowers in hand for the mother he barely remembered at this point, just another loss that ached in his chest. He was late today, so late that the stars were shining in the sky and he needed a flashlight to see anything. The graveyard was technically closed but it was easy to hop the fence, even with a bouquet and a flashlight in his hands. He made a note that he should talk to the owner about upping security.

The walk was short to his mother’s grave but to him it felt like an eternity, especially when he kept hearing the rustling of bushes and twigs snapping, likely some sort of rabbit or deer but he was still on guard from all his time in the military.

Only, as he grew closer, he realized that he could hear a different cracking sound, something he couldn’t quite place, especially when the sound of slurping followed it. It became all the more clearer when he was but a few feet from the grave he planned to visit, a giant mound of dirt laying on top of it while there was a hole in the one beside it.

He peered slowly into the hole, shining his flashlight down and seeing….a person. You. An arm in your hand that you were ferociously tearing at with your teeth, mouth covered and dripping with blood. So busy with your feast that it took a minute before you realized that you were being watched. You turned your head slowly, following the light up to see him just….standing there.

He was in shock, especially now that he could see your dagger-like teeth. And then you were hissing and he was reminded of an alley cat he had cornered once as a small child, wanting to pet it. It had not gone well then, and it would surely not go well now. He slowly backed away but stayed close by, watching you carefully crawl out of your hole, arm tight in your jaw’s grip, watching him warily as you start to shovel the dirt back into the hole.

You watched him, he watched you.

And then you scampered off, startling him with your sudden movement. He could do nothing but stare dumbly at the direction you had run in, wondering what exactly you were.

And how he could encounter you again.

[the-californicationist]

Hi hi! Love your blog! For the Gift of GIF ask game:

Thank you so much for the GIF ask!! So glad y'all like this ask game. Sorry about the delay. Hope this is something you like!

TW: DaddyDom language, female genitals, sex toys, safe and explicit consent, come play

Shore Leave

Your husband, Alex Keller, finally makes good use of his time off and takes you on your dream vacation. Little do you know that he has darker motives…

The view from your poolside suite was breathtaking in all of the best ways. An endlessly-reflected infinity pool bled right into the deep cerulean Pacific Ocean, making it seem like you could swim forever and ever and never stop. The sky was a mirror of the water, cloudless and pure. Although the sun was out, you were comfortable, and the breeze made you feel like you were always in a limbo between being awake and trapped within a lucid dream. 

Even more enthralling was the way your husband’s body felt beneath yours. He was shirtless, clad only in a light pair of linen pants, and his warm body was curled around you protectively like a covetous hound. You’d never felt so safe. 

However, you were also made to feel other things as well. 

It had all started very innocently. He’d woken you up with poached eggs and freshly squeezed juice, running a warm bath and rubbing you down with lotion and oil before you stepped outside. Then, he’d gifted you with a brand new thong bikini, his eyes hungry as you tried it on. You thought you’d be following him down to the beach, eager to splash in the waves and show off your new fit, but he pulled you onto the pool deck instead. 

He’d kissed you softly, teasingly. It was so different than his usual rabid fervor. You loved the way your husband could barely keep your clothes on when you were alone. You’d missed your dinner reservations more than once. But, you reasoned with yourself, he was always on deployment. Of course he was a little excited. 

Now, though, that excitement had given way to mischief. As you had sat by the pool, kissing and holding hands, innocently watching the ships float by, you’d been lulled into a false sense of security. 

And so, here you lay, your pussy stuffed with an automated vibrator, your poor unused asshole filled with an enormous plug, whimpering and begging for relief. Every time you would get close, writhing your body against his, trying to entice him with your hands and your long, smooth legs, he ignored you. He could control the vibe from his phone, and you never knew which way he was going to go. Sometimes, he would switch it off, watching you desperately humping his leg like a feral dog, swollen and perched on the edge of an orgasm. 

His dark chuckle made your blood run cold,

“Does my good girl need something?”

Alex peered down into your face, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, smug and thoroughly enjoying himself. 

“Oops,” he adjusted your thong again, jiggling the plug as he did so, “Keep these nice and high for me, baby. Need to be able to admire this plump ass of yours. Mmm. What a view.” 

A hard, aching squeeze of his huge hand on your ass cheek made you see white, the sensation of all of his toys inside of you making even the smallest affection feel like wildfire. 

“Please, Daddy, I’ll be a good girl. Please, may I come… please?” You tried to beg. You’d tried before. Nothing was helping. You could feel the slip and slide of your slick between the meat of your inner thighs. 

“Not yet. Trust me, honey. I know what’s best for you, don’t I?”

You didn’t say a word, but you watched wide-eyed as he pulled another velveteen drawstring bag from his case. When he opened up the box, you could tell he’d already inspected and cleaned it. All of its wrapping was gone, and the straps were already in place. 

It was a familiar piece. He’d used gags with you before, and nothing brought you more pleasure than allowing his hands and mouth and cock to bring you to your peak over and over again while you mindlessly allowed your shining drool to melt down your neck and onto your tits. When he removed it and allowed you to swallow him, replacing the silicone ball with his warm, softening cock, already emptied of its seed — you’d never come so hard in your life. 

But this was no ball. This was a fat, silicone cock gag. 

“Daddy, please. I’ll be quiet. I promise. Please… No, I’m —” 

“Hey, show me your left hand,” he became very serious. 

In your hand, you held a loud alarm button, your finger over the trigger, ready to press it at any time. When he saw it, checking in with you that you were still in your safe zone, he smiled.

“That’s perfect, baby. Such a good little slut for me. How did I get so lucky?” He kissed your cheek, shining with old and new tears, streaking down your face from overstimulation, and he planted chaste kisses on your quivering lip. You let yourself lean towards his affection, seeking more of his comfort, only to be firmly held back in place with his hand as he wrapped around your cheek.

“Shh, shh. Daddy just wants you to feel so good, baby. Now, open up.”

You stared at him with huge, gleaming doe eyes, tears threatening to run out of the corners of them again. 

When you didn’t immediately comply, he grabbed the nape of your scalp and yanked your head back, not hurting you, but getting your attention. 

“Am I gonna have to bruise that fine fuckin’ ass, huh? Make you walk down the fuckin’ beach with my palm prints all over you?”

“No, Daddy. I’ll be good. I’ll be good,” you gasped when the vibrator started up again as he flipped a switch. The shock made you clench down around it, which jostled the heavy plug, all in a series of mind-numbing chain reactions designed to edge you within an inch of your sanity. 

“I know you will be. Now… open… that… mouth.”

Alex pressed the tip of the gag to your lips and you opened up for him, sucking it into your lips just like his cock. He pushed it all the way in and it almost landed in the back of your throat. Any further and you wouldn’t be able to breathe. It was a perfect fit. 

Then, slowly, almost painfully so, he pulled it back out, staring into your eyes and seeing what you needed. 

“Go on, baby. I know you wanna suck it for me. Show me.”

You wrapped your lips around it again, and as he held it in place, you bobbed your head up and down, your tongue lapping at the head of his toy. You made sure to look straight into his eyes as you used your mouth on it, letting your spit coat the silicone and drip onto his fist. 

He removed his hand from your head and pet your hair gently, smoothing it away from your face.

“My poor, hungry little whore. Let’s fill you up, hm?”

Your protests became warped into a garbled whine as Alex pressed the toy all the way into your mouth, making sure it was flush and, before you knew it, you were being latched into the gag. The cock you were sucking was now perched at the farthest edge of your tongue, the soft head pressing into your palate, threatening to choke you. 

Alex bent his neck to kiss your mouth as your lips stretched around the toy, smiling as he turned his attention back to his phone. He turned the vibrator down to a medium rumble and removed himself from your cuddling position to stand near the edge of the pool chair. 

“C’mere, baby. Lemme show you somethin’,” your adoring husband held out his hand and you struggled to stand with him, stumbling on shaking legs. 

He walked you over to the tall dividing wall between your suite and the popular beach, each step making the toys thrust up inside of you as you swayed your hips. Your weakness and the unevenness of the ground made your footing jerky and chaotic, adding to the creamy, lurid jostling happening inside of you. The pressure from the anal plug was so satisfying, and your vibrator teased your most sensitive spot, deep within you, just like a curling finger. Without your thong, you know your vibrator would have slipped out of you on your journey. You had never been so wet, and the way the toy was wriggling inside of your hole was making you dizzy. 

Finally, you made it to the wall and used it to support yourself, squeezing your thighs together, desperate for some relief. Alex pointed down to the beach, showing you the little umbrellas and towels full of soldiers on shore leave, all oblivious to your torture.

“Put your hands on the wall, spread your legs apart, and don’t move them until I tell you to. Hold up a two if you understand me.”

You held up a two with your hand and then placed both of your palms on the wall, gripping it for dear life, feeling the long thread of your tangled orgasm beginning to unravel. Alex nudged your legs even wider, changing the angle of the toys within your body. The vibe buzzed away deep within you, faithfully held in place by your tight thong. 

Then, you felt the familiar loosening of your bathing suit top as Alex yanked out the bow you had tied, letting the small fabric flutter away, revealing your breasts to the soft breeze. If any of the partying soldiers got too curious and decided to study you from below, they’d surely be able to see your dark nipples as they tightened on your tits, unbelievably sensitive in your current predicament. 

You whined, and Alex shushed you, 

“Shh, baby. I know. What if they see? That’s why you need to be nice and quiet for Daddy, hm? Wouldn’t want to attract any visitors, now would we? Now…” He grabbed your hips, his thumbs digging into the v-shaped strap of your thong, “Suck that cock for me while Daddy plays with his toys.”

You tried to focus on his instructions, but you couldn’t bear the anticipation. What was he about to do to you? You let your eyes wander back towards him, trying to prepare for whatever came next.

A rough hand came around to grab you by the jaw,

“What did I say? Show me how you swallow that dick, honey, or I’ll make you scream so they can all watch you do it.”

You nodded as best you could, trying to show him you could be a good girl for him, and you experimented a little, swallowing in an exaggerated rhythm, feeling the gag sliding back and forth through your mouth as your throat moved. It made you drool a bit, the spit pooling at the ring of your stretched lips, running down your chin. 

“That’s it,” Alex praised you, rubbing his clothed cock against your ass from behind, “That’s what I wanna hear. Keep sucking, just like that.”

So, you did. As you swallowed and suckled on the solid shape, it began to feel more and more like the real thing. The ridges of the head, the pronounced veins of the body; it was all contributing to the absolute mindrot you were already experiencing. You let the cock fuck your mouth, using the tension of your tongue to mimic the feeling, allowing your thoughts to dissipate in favor of the sparkling blissed your husband had promised you. 

Alex kept his crotch jammed against the cleft of your ass, forcing you to feel his hard shaft as it rolled against you, reaching around your body to softly pluck at your nipples. 

At the first touch of his fingertips, you gasped, sucking in air through your nose, nearly losing your footing. His hands mirrored each other, rubbing feather-light circles around your pebbled skin, petting your heavy breasts with the palms of his hands. He was fire and ice, at one point squeezing your flesh cruelly and pinching you hard enough to make you cry out through the muffle of the gag, and then sweet as could be, stroking and petting you like a scared bunny. 

You weren’t sure of the concept of time. It could have been only seconds that he played with you like this, or perhaps an hour had gone by. You just knew that your lover wanted to hear your hungry suckling sounds and to touch your swaying breasts. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed. 

Then, he pulled the other string at your back, letting your top fall to the ground. 

You missed his touch immediately, turning your head to look back at him, questioning his choices. It was the wrong move. You knew he would take care of you, but your fervor made you selfish and doubtful. 

You faced the ocean again, watching the soldiers as you swallowed against the dick in your mouth, ignoring the obvious lines of spit hanging from your mouth. Alex came around to the wall and perched himself against it. After watching you for a few moments, he took his hand and wiped your mouth, smearing your own spit all over your tits, wetting your nipples so that the cool air could tease them. 

Then, right in front of you, he unbuttoned his fly and took his cock from his pants. He began to stroke it in a languid, lazy pattern, slathering his precome over his immense head and down his shaft. Surprisingly, the cock gag made you hungrier for the real thing, and you eyed him like a prize. 

“I want to make sure you’re really enjoying this vacation, baby. I planned it all for you. Are you having fun?”

You nodded enthusiastically, knowing he was leading up to something threatening. You loved him like this. And he loved you when you were fully under his command. Under his care. All for him. His plaything. 

“I’m about to look and see how much fun you’re having…” He let his fat cock hang and walked around to your rear, “Are you ready for me to see the pretty little mess you made, darlin’?”

You nodded again, steeling yourself for what was coming. 

He placed his hand at the very middle of your thong and pulled up on it instead of down, cramming the toys inside of you deeper than they had been, making you writhe and whine, losing control of your legs, feeling them trembling, barely able to hold you up. 

He let go. You breathed as deeply as you could, feeling like the cock in your mouth was growing down your throat, wishing you could scream in earnest. 

Then, he rolled down your bottoms until your spread thighs stopped them, your ass and pussy now on full display.

He hummed with pleasure, and you heard his pants fall to the ground, rustling in the grass and pooling around your husband’s ankles. 

Suddenly, fingers began to tug at the plug in your ass, pulling it in an undulating pattern against your muscular ring, making you feel like you were being fucked by a thick cock. Then, he applied even pressure, and removed it, letting your hole clench around nothing for a moment before teasing you with the rounded tip. Alex let it fuck you shallowly for a while, pressing it forward only a few inches at a time, barely applying any pressure at all. Until he put it back in. He stretched you again, and you realized that since you’d become all too comfortable at the thin, flat base, and you hadn’t had a chance to get accustomed to the insane girth; it was as if you were starting from scratch. 

You rolled your hips, trying to ease the pressure, and he rolled the toy with you, playing with you like a lion plays with its food, batting you around, helpless to his power. 

The vibrator was flailing inside of your pussy at top speed, pulsing and rumbling loud enough for you to hear the mechanical whir. And every time he pushed the plug back inside of you, the tone of it would change. Your body was making music for him, and you couldn’t help it one bit. 

“Beautiful…” You could hear the smile on his lips. 

Everything stopped for a moment, but you thought you heard a soft slicking sound, the noise of him jacking off. Then, you felt his fleshy head push its way into your pussy, already filled by the deep vibe. 

You turned around, worried, unable to protest with the cock still deep in your mouth, pinning down your tongue. 

His sunglasses were off, and he was focused on your hole, using your sticky come to coat himself, thrusting shallowly inside of you right beside the vibrator. 

He wasn’t going to fit. You’d never felt so full before. You were already so primed, the audacious lewdness of it all sent you over the edge. You crashed into your orgasm like a runaway train, slamming full force into a wall of sensations. Your skin flushed hot all at once, like an instant fever, and you felt your holes clutch desperately onto anything they could find, squeezing and pulsing and swelling against him. 

You lost your strength to stand, but he held you, carrying your weight like it was nothing. And he kept pushing forward, easing his cock right beside the toy, holding it steady inside of you. 

“There she is. You’re doing so well for me, baby. Daddy’s perfect little hole.” 

Once he was fully sheathed within you, you both sighed raggedly, melting into the feeling like molten glass in a kiln. Below you, the soldiers laughed, running through the shallow water, having the time of their lives. 

Alex began to fuck you with very little heed for your well-being. You had your button, you could press it at any time, and out of all of his fun toy box prizes, you’d not once felt like anything had been beyond your abilities. But, now, as his cock made room for itself in your tight walls, you wondered if you could take it. 

You understood size queens, the girls who insisted on girthy, long phalluses and who refused to settle for less. You knew why they insisted, now. Your g-spot was lit up like a beacon. There was no waiting to feel his cockhead rub lightly against it. No, it was on and it stayed on because of the terrible girth of both the toy and his dick. You were coming not in waves, but in some sort of constant stream. There was no start and stop to your orgasms; you were given no let down on their end nor warning on their beginning. You were just kept in a hot, milky, perpetual state of bliss that made your eyes roll back into your head. 

The plug in your ass began to come out of you as you came. He was pulling against it, prying it from you until it popped free. You knew you were gaping open for him because when he explored the empty hole with his fingers, you could tell how pliant and soft your body was now that it had been so deeply filled. 

“My good girl. Taking everything her Daddy gives her today.”

Alex praised you, but you didn’t respond. Your mind was a blank slate. All you could do was tumble further down the winding path of your own pleasure. 

You felt him pull himself free from the grip of your pussy, gasping from the relief. He slipped the vibrator out of you, too, switching it off and discarding it somewhere. Then, you were empty. So empty that it felt like grief. And you cried out for his help as much as you could around the gag. 

“C’mere, honey. On your knees for Daddy.”

You fell to the ground limply, turning toward him for guidance, for any sort of reprieve. 

He looked down at you with so much love and admiration, bending to kiss your forehead and removing your gag. 

“So good. Such an obedient slut. I’m so proud of you, honey.”

“But, Daddy, you didn’t come, yet.” You pawed at his hips, rubbing his belly and reaching for his chest, stretching yourself to try and give yourself back to him.

“Today’s not about me, baby,” he smiled sweetly at you, but you weren’t having it. 

His cock was pink and flagging, practically dripping with precome, ready to burst. You reached for it, feeding it into your sore mouth, sucking it down like you’d been practicing on the gag. It was too big, but you pushed through it, swallowing and swallowing until you couldn’t breathe, hollowing out your cheeks to make your mouth into a warm wet sleeve for him. 

“Baby… oh, shit. Ungh! Holy hell.”

Without any further hesitation, he began to fuck your throat, shoving himself deeper and deeper, controlling your head and moving himself within you like a piston. You let yourself go limp again, allowing the pornographic slurping sounds of your rough-fucked mouth to be as loud and as messy as he wanted them to, abandoning your shame. You rubbed yourself with your hand, shoving your fingers into your soaked pussy, and playing with your clit, already sensitive enough to come again. 

He had trained you so well. This was your moment to shine. 

You came with him, looking up into the twisted agony on his face as he filled your belly with his load, trying to pull away to let you breathe, leaving a trail of thick spend all along your tongue and cheeks, your mouth full of him by the time he slid away from you. 

You made sure he was looking down at you when you spit him into your hands, letting his milk pool in your palms, rubbing him all over your puffy nipples and down between your swollen petals, pushing him into your pussy with your fingers only to return to your breasts to smear him around like a salve. As he watched you in excitement and a wild disbelief, his gaze darkened, and he wrapped his hand around your throat, bending down so that you could hear the rough growl in the timbre of his voice,

“Oh, baby. You just bought yourself round two.”

AO3 Link

Also, @glitterypirateduck - are we still in vacation mode?? 😅🩷

[look-at-the-soul]

Love takes two -Part 1

Emmett x reader (AQP2) Cillian Murphy

Request (s) by anon prompt request

Finally I was able to finish this request (it’s a combination of two different requests I got from lovely anons ♥️ I’m sorry it took me so long!)

And also my little celebration for @cillmequick birthday (I remember it was in July) and for your 6 month tumblr anniversary -that’s probably a year now..) dear Alex thank you for being a lovely human being and all the Cillian smutty stories you share, I’m a bit behind in my reading but slowly catching up 🥰✨ xxx

Summary: Emmett gets protective around you, even in the smallest things. But after a night around a bonfire with friends he’s forced to be honest about his feelings. Just like you.

A knock on the door startled him at first, but then he realized there was only one person in the entire island who would stop by to see him.

“I’m not here.” He answered and chuckled at his own joke, then he saw your head poking with the signature smile and wild hair by the door.

“Okay, I’m looking for Mr. Hologram.” You smiled widely.

“What did you do this time, Y/N?” He finally dragged his gaze from his work to your face and like every single time he did that, you feel like you were kicked by a horse in the stomach.

“Me? Nothing.” You stated innocently, he should be used by now to help you with almost everything; opening a bottle of something, surviving… “We’re having a little bonfire, I was wondering if you want to come?”

“We?”

“Just a couple of friends.”

There was a small disapproval groan, but you knew him so well, so you rushed to try to convince him.

“Please, just for a little while… you don’t have to chat with them.” He was an introvert or not very fond of everyone, Emmett was always by himself… and with you most of the time because you didn’t really give him much choice. “Emmett?”

Batting your lashes and you knew that would do the trick.

“Don’t say that, they’re nice people.”

“Hmm.” He raised his eyebrows. “Just because you still have hope in humans, it doesn’t mean they’re.”

“Emmett! They’re.” You insisted. Partly because you believe, partly because you loved saying the opposite than him. “I made dinner.” You bit your lip.

He was cleaning his hands with a cloth, so he flipped his head in an attempt to move his fringe away, but to you it was the sexiest thing he could do.

“Fine you win, I just need to take a shower first.”

You made a victory little dance and told him you’d be waiting for him.

“Don’t make the same mistake I did, Emmett.” Daniel “the coach” advised stepping into the room. “You don’t want to grow old and lonely like me, trust me.”

Emmett gave him a long look. He knew his story, Coach had loved a woman when he was young but he didn’t have anything to offer to her so he stepped back, later in life he got an opportunity into coaching professional football, when he went back to her because he was financially stable he found out she had married someone else. After waiting for him for years to ask her out she decided to move on because she never knew he was in love with her.

“I don’t understand your point.” Emmett tried to play the fool.

“You like her.” Coach stated firmly.

Emmett pretended to clean the tools he had been using. “Everybody likes her.”

“She’s a great girl, what are you waiting for?”

“I think someone younger would be better fit for her.”

“Is that your best excuse?” Coach shook his head in disapproval. “Get rid of the beard, that’s the best way to look younger.”

Emmett saw him disappear outside with the handsaw, leaving him alone with only the feelings he had been secretly developing for you along with that noisy whisper in the back of his mind tormenting him over and over, repeating there was no way you could like him back.

Right?

“Given the fact that we don’t have a lot of things, this looks lovely.” Alex admitted taking a step back to admire the work the two of you made.

“Thank you for helping me.”

“Wait a second, there’s one extra place.” She eyed you suspiciously.

“That’s for Emmett.”

“Why it doesn’t surprise me?” She sighed loudly.

Trying to distract yourself with the candles. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Alex crossed her arms, but decided to not press the topic anymore. If you didn’t feel like talking yet, she’d give you space.

For now.

You felt cornered, it was hard to keep something from her but luckily Emmett appeared in your eyesight and you waved at him, giving Alex a sign to keep it to herself. Shaking her head, she walked away to bring out the plates.

“You came!” The smile on your face couldn’t get any bigger.

“Of course, you invited me.” He chuckled.

“Never seen this before.” You pointed it at his shirt, a deep emerald that lighted his eyes even more beautifully than they already were.

He blushed slightly and a nervous laugh escaped his lips, he chose it because it was the only decent and dressy shirt he had for an occasion like that, the rest were dirty or stained.

“Hey! Can I’ve some help?” Alex asked from the house. “Don’t stay there!” She called over the two of you again.

“Better go, before the creatures hear her.” Emmett swore he said it to himself but you were close enough to listen. It was hard to hold your laugh, after the invasion you barely laughed afraid you wouldn’t be able to control the volume and attract them, but not this time.

“What’s so funny?” Alex demanded to know, looking between the two of you.

“Emmett just told me a joke.” You lied wiping the tears away.

As Emmett emerged with his arms full of boxes with drinks, you decided to busy yourself by offering him some help. Oblivious that Alex was keeping an eye on the two of you.

People started to show up, someone brought his guitar, while another person was offering everybody homemade sweets. Dinner was amazing and having the chance to celebrate with the most important people was something you felt extremely grateful for, even if your birthday had already passed. Between laughs and an endless chat, you were now enjoying a piece of a homemade cake, it was like tasting a piece of heaven in your mouth.

The group had been sharing memories before the invasion, it was great to hear he most memorable birthday celebration from each other.

“Bet you’re eager to share yours.” You teased Emmett who was sitting on your left.

“Absolutely.” He replied raising his eyebrows. “Thrilled actually.”

That was one of the things you liked about him the most, he was always able to catch your hint of sarcasm and replied back the same, it was like your little private joke.

“Oh damn it!” Alex mumbled. “Y/N, can you pass me the fork? It’s next to your feet.” She pointed out from her seat on the picnic bench in front of you.

As you were still laughing from what Emmett said, you started to bend down to pick it up, her eyes on you as you moved. But to her surprise, Emmett’s hand was moving at speed to cover the corner of the table, so you wouldn’t hurt yourself.

“Thank you.” You smiled shyly at him.

For him it was the most natural thing to do, but to her, it was all she needed to confirm the thoughts that had been running in her mind.

She thanked you after taking her fork. “Should we go and play some music?”

As the group moved towards the bonfire, you looked at Emmett.

“You should join them.” He encouraged, stealing glances at the group.

“Can’t leave you alone to clean up, can I?”

“Y/N it’s fine, really.”

Biting your lip you stared at him. Feeling like sometimes he was pushing you away.

“The night is young, go.” He repeated just as Alex was coming to get you.

“Come on let’s dance!”

You nodded and followed her, feeling a bit off about Emmett. Perhaps you were too pushy with him, trying to be friendly or make him feel part of the group. But as the cheering started for your arrival, it lifted you up and you decided to have a good time, kicking the sand, clapping and doing your best effort to sing along.

Emmett’s eyes landed on you from afar, you were dancing and singing with the small group.

Your cheerful spirit attracted lots of attention, it was inevitable, your carefree attitude, signature happy character and that smile that seemed to be tattooed on your face made you be surrounded by people all the time.

It was one of the things he admired about you the most, despite everything, the things you’ve been through after the invasion, losing your loved ones, that didn’t turn you into a resentful person. All the opposite, it made your heart kinder, softer.

Constantly he asked himself why you cared so much about people who probably wasn’t even worth it. But deep down he knew… because you still believed in good people, you still trusted them.

Wild hair bouncing in different direction made him go back to reality, your cheerful sweet voice made him snap out as you shouted his name while waving at him.

“What are you doing all by yourself?” You asked sitting next to him over the old tree trunk. “You should come.”

“Trying to avoid your disastrous performance.” Emmett teased, ending his words with a chuckle.

“Ugh that rum gets into my brain faster,” you groaned.

“If that’s your excuse…”

“So what’s yours? To be on your own when it’s a beautiful night like this one.”

Sometimes he still wonder how a chatterer like you could’ve made your way through his skin to take a place within his broken heart and leave a permanent mark. Over the weeks since the two of you met, it was as if you opened up his dark and lonely heart, took a chair and declared you would stay there until you made him smile and help him enjoy life again.

“How is it possible that you’re always happy and enthusiastic in a shitty world like this?” Emmett asked after a few moments.

And regretted it immediately, realizing how bitter he sounded.

“Sorry about that, it didn’t come out right.” Worry danced through his eyes, you noticed right before he looked down.

“So what am I supposed to do? Cross my arms and put on an angry face to push everyone away?”

“I don’t have an angry face.” He tried to defend himself.

“Absolutely not, you’re the most friendly human being around,” you nodded making a funny face. “It seems that you already forgot how we met.”

Flashback

Focusing on his surroundings, he was now used to the loud thoughts in the back of his mind, talking to himself most of the time for survival purposes.

He was walking midway across the bridge when he heard a small noise behind his back. He was quick to take his weapon from his shoulder and turn around pointing it in every direction in an attempt to protect himself.

But his heartbeat stopped as he saw the female figure before him.

“You shouldn’t sneak around like that, you know?” He whispered.

“Are you always that friendly?” You asked with a hint of sarcasm.

“I’m not here to make friends.”

“Fabulous, me neither… let’s be not-friends.” You extended your hand at him. “Y/N.”

Emmett placed his weapon back on his shoulder, and fixed his eyes on you with a defeated sigh.

“Emmett. What are you doing here?”

“Oh you know, just needed some air and a suntan.” You shuddered. “I’m looking for food.”

He wanted to laugh, for the first time in months, he felt something. And in that very moment he realized that you were one of the very few people around worth saving.

“Do you trust a stranger like that all the time? This is a dangerous place right now.”

“Again with the pessimism, Em?” You shuddered. “You don’t look like the kind of people who goes around with bad intentions. I saw you back there, when you had the chance to steal, you didn’t.”

His chest raised from the long breath he took. One more look at you and another one towards the long road ahead.

“Come on, I know a place safe.” He covered his nose and mouth with the old piece of shirt.

End of flashback

“I knew you were a good person right away.” You mumbled letting your eyes swim in the depth of his eyes. “And look at you, that day you found the best damn thing that’s happened to you after the invasion.”

That made him chuckle, just like every single thing you did and said.

“There’s no point to fight that.”

Your heart was doing a strange thing; drumming like it was in a rush to come out of your chest and skipping beats from time to time, specially when his clear eyes were looking intensely at you.

“I’ve something for you.” He announced looking at the ground one of his hands started fishing inside the shirt pocket. “Happy birthday, Y/N I made you this.”

As you were about to ask how could he remember it was your birthday, he showed you a small square of fabric covering a pendant in the form of a flower made of wood. “Emmett it’s beautiful!”

It was something delicate and simple, but to you it meant everything that he made it from scratch.

Without even thinking about it, you threw yourself into his arms. This was the first and only gift you’ve received, as his hands came to rest to your back and his masculine scent intoxicated your senses, you suddenly realized of your impulsive actions and how much he protected his personal space. So you broke the embrace.

“Sorry, I got over excited… thank you so much!”

His eyes were fixed on you as you put it on.

“It’s just something small.” He tried to explain.

“You’re really talented.”

Clicking his tongue he felt the urge to hide his hands.

“Emmett you need to learn to accept compliments, look at the table,” you pointed at the object next to you, “this is a gift, you create beautiful pieces.”

“Well thank you.”

You loved the shy look he gave you.

Nervously you placed your hair behind your ears. “No, thank you.”

“Y/N…”

Staring at his profile, you noticed the freckles kissing his face, neck and the part of his chest that was visible, the moonlight spread shadows beautifully in certain parts of his features, and you couldn’t help but wonder how would his beard feel against your skin.

There was no use in trying to deny it any longer, you had to be honest with yourself… you were in love with this man, and maybe as an introvert he needed a little push. Perhaps if you open up to him, he would do the same.

“Yes?”

Taking a deep breath, you decided you’d take the lead, after the invasion changed everything you decided you wouldn’t miss the chance. What if taking the risk was worth it?

He gave you one more look and you waited patiently.

As Emmett felt you turning your body towards him and the peonies scent of your skin hit him, he looked at your beautiful and delicate features in the dim light.

You were young, beautiful and funny, a walking sunshine. How could he even think of standing a chance to be with a goddess like you?

Fixing his eyes on his hands, he stood up.

“Nothing I just hope you have a blast, goodnight.”

And he left without another word or even a look. Confusion took over you, in equal amount as disappointment. You regretted deeply everything in that very moment. How did you come to think he’d look at you differently? To him you were nothing but a friend, someone who was always joking.

“You’re supposed to be having fun.” Your friend stated, taking the seat next to you.

“I am, Alex.”

“Really? Then you need to say it to your face.” And she pulled you up, towards the bonfire.

****

“You are what?” Alex asked with a shocked expression as she was watching you getting ready.

“Going out with Mark.” You repeated putting on the sandals.

“I didn’t know you guys were seeing each other.” She was majorly confused.

Turning your head to her, you nodded. “He asked me after the bonfire.”

“And… you like him?”

Sighing you paced the room. “Alex what’s with all the questionnaire? I thought you wanted me to have someone.”

Leaning back, she started playing with her sandal, balancing it in her toe. “I thought you liked Emmett.”

From side to side, you saw her sandal move like a pendulum. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh, you wanna play like that? Fine… stealing glances at him all the time, joining him for his daily walks when he clearly wants to be alone, going to his place with the most ridiculous excuses just to be close, him acting all protective around you…”

“We’re… friends.” You stammered looking away, feeling caught by your best friend. “Can you stop that please?” You were altered.

“Jesus.” She noticed you were in a mood. “He’s grumpy and bearish. You’ve nothing in common how can you say he’s your friend?” She needed to push your buttons.

“That’s a wrong impression most of the people here have.” You defended him. “He’s kind and funny.”

“And?”

You wanted to say that he was smart and well educated and a great cook, but that would only make her suspicious grow.

“I’ve known you since we were in the wombs of our mothers, Y/N. You can’t lie to me.”

There was a long silence, and it was endless.

“I’m in love with him, okay? I don’t know how, but it happened. I love spending time with him, he makes me feel safe, like I can be myself. He makes me love the person I am when we’re together… but it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t like me back, to him I’m just his friend.”

Pouring your soul and feelings to your best friend didn’t change anything, but it made you feel lighter, just as Alex was about to say that she knew there was something between the two of you by Emmett’s protectiveness, Mark arrived.

“I better go.”

“If you’ve feelings for Emmett, this date is useless you know that, right?” She had never seeing you like this before.

“Everything is useless to be honest, but it’s either this date or yelling so a creature would come at me.”

“As dramatic as always.”She rolled her eyes right before watching you and Mark disappear.

It had only been ten minutes when there was a knock, Alex thought you forgot something so she opened the door to scold you, but instead she found the last person she had in mind.

“Emmett?”

“Hey, it’s Y/N here?”

For an instant, Alex felt sorry for him. “She’s out tonight… Mark asked her on a date.”

His jaw clenched, hands curled in tight fits just as an avalanche of emotions flashed in his blue eyes.

***

Part 2

More Emmett content here! 🥰✨

Do you like this character? I particularly love that there are endless possibilities around Emmett and he’s a fascinating character 🥰♥️ your thoughts and comments it’s what feeds my soul -and trust me, you don’t want to see me hungry 😂-

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[fall0utmind]

Medical Leak AU Ch6

Chapter 6 - Burn/ Mistake Below (4k)

Part 1 - 5 here

Here on AO3

****

I'm still sick and my head hurts but i REALLY hope you guys enjoy this chapter of pure pain.

Thank you so much for all the love, I so so so appreciate it.

Let me know what you think!!

TW//// suicide - slight descriptions of suicide and dying (no actual death) - mentions of overdose and injury (all past)

The room holds its breath. Everyone is on high alert, their wide-eyed stares dancing between different group members, cataloguing every reaction. They are collectively choking on the escalating tension balancing on a razor’s edge, threatening to asphyxiate them all. Valentino studies the scene before him, blinking in confusion at the strange mix of people filling the small space. He raises his eyebrows at his boys, who shuffle awkwardly; Bez refuses to meet his eyes, staring steadfastly at the floor instead. Pecco and Luca do not share the same reservations, meeting his stare head-on. He is astonished to find unrestrained anger in Pecco’s eyes, and he questions what lies he has been fed to him by the surrounding men. He rips his gaze away, instead turning to assess the wider room.

Contrary to popular belief, Valentino is merely a person and, therefore, experiences very human emotions. Watching Marc fly off his bike, somersaulting in the air before slamming into the gravel, made his heart drop and his breath catch. When he didn’t make a move to get up, a decade’s worth of resentment and pain promptly disappeared as overwhelming fear choked him. However, the guilt that has been souring in his stomach since his run-in with Marquez earlieris beginning to evaporate, replaced by the scorching ragethat only Marc can illicit. Valentino observes how Marc has thrown himself on top of Dovizioso and Lorenzo, his teeth grinding in outrage. He cannot believe his insolence – to act like the world has done him some injustice; to fall into the arms of anyone who will offer; turning Valentino’s own riders against him. He seethes at the thought. How can Marc sit there acting so pleased when he has made Valentino feel this way? How dare he trick him like this?  Alex is standing to the side, unnoticed, with his fists clenched by his sides, hot fury spilling over. Who the hell does Valentino think he is turning up here, after everything he has done?

Valentino glances at Marc again, pausing at what he observes. There is something odd about the way he is holding himself; his usual mask of cold indifference has fallen away, replaced by wide-eyed worry. Marc is coiled tight with tension and has been since he registered Valentino. His gaze is darting around the room, anxiety practically dripping off him. It makes no sense. He does not look pleased, or smug. He is not ready for a fight. Instead, he seems scared, defeated, and even drained, like he has nothing to give. Valentino deflates slightly at the lack of provocation he finds from the group, none of this makes sense.

Marc is still slouched on the couch and is visibly panicking now; his heart is thumping in his chest and his breathing has become laboured. The last person he wants to see after the craziness of this weekend is Valentino. He feels vulnerable and helpless, stripped bare in the face of his adversary and unprotected in his own safe space. Images conjured by his traitorous brain flood his mind: Valentino destroying his last remaining sanity; Marc losing everything he has left; and Marc's friends abandoning him when they discover how hopeless he is. He bites back the distressed whine trapped in his throat, desperately hoping no one notices the choked-off noise he makes instead, but 7 sets of eyes immediately dart towards him, the silence broken. He gulps on his fear, his body frozen despite his mind screaming for him to move. The attention of the whole room is directed at where he is staring like a rabbit in headlights, too scared to flee. In his periphery, he swears concern flashes across Valentino’s face, gone as soon as it came, before he speaks, uncharacteristic uncertainty colouring his voice.

“Marc, I-”

Jorge curtly cuts him off, unwilling to let Valentino land his first blow.

“Valentino, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Valentino looks him up and down, sitting at ease in Marc’s living room. The younger is still sprawled across him and Dovi, looking up with scared eyes. Molten-hot anger once more boils in Valentino’s stomach. He does not understand what elicits such a strong reaction; whether it is the presence of Lorenzo or the way Marc is all over the pair of retired riders. Although, why would he be angry about that? It is none of his business who Marc screws. He scoffs, his face contorting into harsh, livid lines. All his intentions for politeness are forgotten. But Jorge knows his old rival too well not to see what is going on, and he can’t allow that. He pushes Marc towards Dovi, letting him settle before he jumps up, starting towards Valentino and talking lowly so that only he can hear.

“Don’t you dare, he has every right to move on, you don’t give a shit about him. Don’t pretend you do. He’s wasted enough of his life over you when you went out of your way to ruin him”

Who said a little jealousy wasn’t good to make sure someone knew what they were missing? Valentino's jaw hits the floor, astonishment and fury pouring over him like gasoline to a fire.

“Move on? Move on from what? I don’t care what the hell the bastard does in his spare time, I just want him to leave my boys out of it.  Get out of my way Lorenzo”

The heightened emotions leak into their voices, louder than intended, grabbing the interest of the others. Alex stands up, coming to stand next to Jorge. Marc’s face has shuttered at Valentino’s words. Luca and Pecco also make a start towards Vale but are halted by Jorge’s hand. Alex beat them all to it, swearing up a storm in Catalan.

“Vés a cagar a la via, puto desgraciat!”

Marc is staring at his brother with shock written across his face, he has never heard him sound so furious. Alex pays no mind, his wrath directed at Valentino.

“Puto imbècil de merda!”

Most of them have no idea what he is saying, but they can gather that isn’t exactly polite. Jorge looks torn between laughter and dismay. Alex collects himself enough to seethe once more in Valentino’s direction, in English this time, so he can understand.

“You bastard. You absolute bastard. How dare you turn up here and start acting so self-righteous. I hate you. You ruined everything. I almost lost him. We all almost lost him-”

Alex chokes on his next words, emotions overwhelming him. There are tears in his eyes which he furiously wipes at as he turns towards Jorge, gesturing for him to continue, before he slinks across the motorhome and through the door to the bedrooms. Valentino shakes himself from his stupor, astonished by the outburst.

“Is he always so dramatic-”

He never gets to finish that sentence as Jorge interrupts him, truly fed up with his nonchalance and refusal to see the truth.

“No, no, you listen here, you bastard. You didn’t have to watch him break down in your arms because of the things people have been saying. You didn’t have to watch him cling to the only people he had left for him because you took everyone else away. You left, walked out, left him broken, and let everyone else pick up the pieces of your mess. Fuck you, Valentino. Fuck you and your stupid denial and your ability to make your own problems everyone else’s.”

Vale stands silently, indignance rising inside him, rendered speechless by Jorge and Alex’s outbursts. He glances at Marc, who has masked his face into the perfect picture of media calm, only a slither of his previous panic shines through. His eyes look far away as if he is barely conscious of the chaos around him. He pushes the thought to the side.

“What the fuck? What did you just say? He lost me my tenth. We all know that I just told it as it was.”

He looks towards his academy boys, who all refuse to meet his eyes. It only makes him madder, a little hysterical at the idea that they too had been corrupted.

“No, we fucking don’t. Ask yourself Vale, what the hell would Marc gain from helping me over you? Why would he do that? He loved you, not me. You’ve clouded your own brain with lies and conspiracies and you’ve forgotten the truth. Marc did fuck all apart from trying to win.”

Marc reacts to that, grimacing from his seat, looking between Jorge and Valentino with barely concealed panic. Valentino gives him a side-eyed look and scoffs.

“Love? Yeah right, the only thing Marquez loves is his bike and winning. But maybe he wanted you more than me?”

“You’re kidding? Jesus Valentino, you’re so dense”

“Well, we all know he slept with half of the grid after Sepang, so it isn’t a giant leap.”

Alex growls at that; Valentino isn’t sure when he re-entered the room, but now he whips around towards Vale but is held back by Pecco. Jorge is panting now, seething with anger. Dani grabs his hands rubbing it comfortingly and pulls him back from Vale as Marc goes to stand, slightly wobbly on his feet.

“So that’s what you think of me huh? Do you think I’m some whore who won the championship for Jorge so I could sleep with him? Do you think I’m an attention seeker? A dangerous rider? That I’ve ruined this sport?”

Valentino watches him in silence, there is something off about Marc, something he can’t quite understand. Something lingers beneath the burning pride and resentment that he is so used to. His eyes are unfocused and a little lost; their usual warm brown has darkened, engulfed by his pupils and his anger. He somehow looks young, wide-eyed and naïve, despite the fury radiating off him. How he manages to look hurt, angry, and confused at once is baffling. It reminds Vale of that godforsaken photo that was taken at the press conference in Sepang, the one that has haunted him for a decade. When he first saw it, he laughed, but then it made him doubt everything. As the years have gone on and he’d solidified his stance on Marc, it still lingers.

“Did you know it was one of your fucking journalist pals that leaked my medical records? Were you part of that too? Did you take delight in all my pain, or was it just your fans? They never could let 2015 go, a little bit like you I suppose.”

Marc spits it out, venom burning his tongue. The room goes silent. Alex turns to him, just as shocked as the others.

“si, the team told me earlier, I couldn’t tell anyone yet, there’s no official confirmation, and frankly I didn’t want to face it. We’ve kept it quiet for your sake Valentino, but maybe we shouldn’t have. After all, you didn’t give a shit when they broke into my house and threatened my family. You didn’t give a shit when I almost died. Why would you care now? You always have had a sway with the media, no doubt they would find a way to spin this in your favour. A few choice words and all would be forgotten. Yes?”

Valentino looks like the floor has fallen out from underneath him. Pecco sits back down heavily as disbelief colours the air around them. The room drops a few degrees. Valentino’s face crumbles, the fight leaving him.

“You’re lying...”

Valentino doesn’t sound certain as the accusation falls past his lips. Marc simply laughs a harsh, cruel thing.

“Why would I lie about this? Let me guess, you think the rest of it is a lie too, huh? Did I make that up too?”

“Marc, I didn’t know”

Marc scoffs in response, rolling his eyes at his former hero.

“What didn’t you know Valentino? About the press digging up all my pain, your fans abusing me, or about how you left me back in 2015?”

Valentino stutters, grasping at the feeble trails of what used to be his truth - torn to shreds in the light of the motorhome.

“Go on Vale, say it, you didn’t know how bad it was? Didn’t know that I-“

“No stop, don't”

Valentino looks devastated now, eyes darting wildly around Marc’s face, looking for a hint of lies. He doesn’t find any. It makes sense then, what he found earlier, Marc looking out of it, clouded eyes, wobbling when he stood up. He’s spitting nothing but the truth because he’s clearly off his face on something. He shoots a desperate look at Alex, the younger meets his gaze but doesn’t react. Valentino starts to speak but pauses, unable to force the words out. Marc releases a bitter laugh.

“You can’t even say it. I had to live it, at 22. I was almost a CHILD. I LOST everything to you. I almost died. You took my heart with you when you left, and a knife in My back.”

Valentino chokes,

“Why didn’t you say?”

Marc laughs even harder, a manic edge to it.

“Of course, I didn’t fucking tell you. What was I meant to say? Hi Vale, I know you hate me and think I’m the worst thing that’s ever happened to you and the sport but I’m actually in hospital and I want to die. Just thought I’d let you know.

How about this? Valentino, I'm in love with you but actually, I've overdosed and in about ten minutes my brother will find me half-dead. But I thought you should know what you meant to me”

And God the aim was true on that one, Valentino gasps for air, clutching at any defence he can find.

“You were on track with a death wish? It’s not like I was wrong then”

The room startles at that, shocked by his cruelty. Luca puts his face in his hands, muttering obscenities under his breath in Italian as Pecco shoots daggers at his mentor. Dovi honest to God growls, prowling towards Valentino, but is stopped by Dani who is also glaring at the oldest Italian. Alex turns and punches the wall. Hard.

“Really? That’s what you’ve taken from this?”

Valentino seems to wake up to the room’s atmosphere then, realising the stupidity of his statement. He sensibly decides not to elaborate further on that point. Jorge begins to speak, hoping to put an end to the madness but Marc stops him. Now that he’s started laying it out, he can’t stop gutting himself in front of Valentino.

“Shocker but being suicidal doesn’t mean I tried to take myself or anyone else out in style on race day. Well, I certainly didn’t try to kill anyone else. I know you have convinced yourself that I am the devil, that I am dangerous. I can see that you will never change your mind. But you do not get to come here and pretend I have done something wrong by protecting the small amount of will to live I had left by avoiding you. Did you want me to call? In 2015? 2016? You would have loved to hear that you’d broken me. All I did was sleep and cry and be forced to eat when all I wanted to do was stop living. Do you think I should have messaged when I was riding through agony in 2020-2021? Maybe I should have asked you to take me back because I was in so much pain that I was abusing the medication. Do you like my humiliation? Is it some twisted game to you?”

It is then that the final piece of the puzzle falls into place. Valentino realises several truths at once.

Marc had been crying before he had entered and probably for quite some time considering his red-rimmed eyes, filled with hurt. It makes him wonder whether he allowed the others to watch him break apart; the thought makes a spike of resentment lance through him. Secondly, it is jealousy he has been experiencing all weekend, staring at the way Marc relaxes in front of Dovi and the other ex-riders. Valentino can’t pinpoint what he is jealous of, but it sits uncomfortably in his stomach, so he decides not to think about it. Thirdly, Marc hates vulnerability more than anything else; there’s no way he is enjoying this weekend, and he certainly didn’t cause it in a fit of attention-seeking. Valentino used to know him well, he doesn’t know how he overlooked that. For Marc, this must be torture, showing so much weakness to the world. He would be too proud to admit it, but he is hiding behind a wall of fake bravado even in his worst moments, scrambling desperately to hold his defences.

Valentino has seen the reports; the vivid descriptions of Marc’s pain make him wince. Some of them he couldn’t bring himself to read, too painful and gruesome to fathom. Marc’s history is printed out in black and white. He knows what they say, and now he realises with sickening clarity that they are all true. It makes him stumble slightly, horror dawning in his mind like the sun breaking the horizon, lighting up the truth with vivid clarity. He thinks about what he’s read, the graphic details of the overdose in 2015, where Alex had found him on the floor of their bathroom at home, slurring and on the brink of consciousness. All of it is written in stark medical terms, including the resuscitation. Marc had died on the table; it rocks him to the core. He rehashes the reports of Marc depressed and desolate after 2015, a chain he wore for many years to come. Reports of Marc on suicide watch and the subsequent concern of the doctors who cared for him. He feels sick when he imagines the aftermath of Jerez, the surgeries and the subsequent pain, the scribbled doctor’s notes talking about addiction and reliance. Words are thrown around like medical neglect, non-compliance, and risk to self and overdose. Tales of Marc riding through agony only to cram himself full of medication the rest of the time, just to numb the pain. It had all happened to him, to his Marc. And when had it become his Marc?

Vale feels as though he is free-falling off the edge of a building, without a parachute. He is struck again and again by the realisation of the truth of what he has done. He buckles under the weight of it, almost falling to his knees. Distantly, he sees his boys staring at him with a mix of confusion and horror. Valentino has fucked up. All those years, he turned a blind eye, chose to listen to his side of things, and ignored everything that told him otherwise. He’s going to be sick. He has lived in his own little world for too long and now it is as if someone has come along and burst his bubble; they have flicked on the lights. The truth does not portray him in a pretty light. The world outside his bubble is cruel and horrifying. He searches within himself but can no longer find any fury over Sepang, just guilt. He still believes Marx chose vengeance, he still thinks he can be dangerous, but can’t they all? It looks different now, it makes more sense and fits with the other perceptions of Marc. The stone-cold racer who will do anything to win. The suffering man who took solace in his bike. His Marc.

Valentino turns to Marc once more. Tears are shining in his eyes; he looks completely drained of life. Vale feels the same way.

“Marc, I didn’t know. I promise I didn’t know, Oh god, Cazzo. Marc, I had no idea. Cazzo. Cazzo.”

“Leave Valentino, just go.”

“No please, let me explain, I thought-”

“NO. GO! GET OUT. LEAVE. I DON’T WANT YOU HERE AGAIN. PLEASE, JUST GO.”

Marc loses his composure, screaming at Valentino. His voice cracks as the tears begin to spill over. He wipes furiously at his eyes, gazing at Valentino one last time before he looks away. As he turns, he says one last thing,

“You had your chance. Don’t come back”

Alex steps forward then, pushing Valentino to the door, with some delight.  Luca, Bez, and Pecco trail after them awkwardly, Luca puts his hand on Marc's shoulder as he passes, apologising quietly. Pecco pulls him into a tight hug, surprising the older man. As he escorts them outside, Alex turns to Valentino, his tone is crystal clear but simmering with fury, delivering a killing blow.

“Maybe you should spend some time thinking about what it would be like to hold your brother in your arms, minutes away from death. I found him you know. I called for help, I took him to the hospital, and I watched the life fade out of him. No matter how many years go by, I’ll never, ever, forget holding him, thinking it would be his last breath, weeping over him. Nothing will ever be worse.

You’re the reason my brother lost everything, make it right or fuck off and don’t come back.”

The younger Italians look devastated as Alex turns to leave, barely sparing them a glance. Alex slams the door behind him. Vale is breathing heavily as he spins around and meets three disappointed stares. Pecco just shakes his head, turns on his heel and leaves. Bez surprises the older man as he offers Valentino a sad look.

 “You’re a fucking idiot”

Luca’s reaction hurts the most, his younger brother levelling him with a disappointed glare and some harsh words.

“You need to fix it. You fucked up. Badly. Work it out, Vale.”

Vale watches Luca’s back disappear into the darkness, despair threatening to swallow him home. Vale stands there alone, outside Marc’s motorhome, for some time. It feels like time is suspended, the echoes of past mistakes haunting him. He really has screwed up, and he has no idea how to fix it.

[cynicalrosebud]

Handle It (2): Puppy Love

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Summary: Alex flashes back to getting his K9 hybrid Y/n.

Warnings: None for this chapter but you are responsible for your own media consumption.

The base was buzzing with the usual chaos of the day, soldiers moving from one place to another, the hum of distant helicopters mixing with the murmur of conversations. Alex walked down the long row of kennels, the sound of his boots echoing off the concrete floor. He had been through these routines countless times, but this one felt different. Today, he wasn’t just being paired with any K9. This was special.

"She’s still young," the handler in charge said, unlocking one of the kennels near the back. “Barely out of her training, but she’s already showing a lot of potential. Smart, eager to please… she’ll be a good fit for you.”

Alex knelt down as the door swung open, and there you were—a young hybrid with ears too big for your head, wide-eyed and nervous as you cautiously stepped out. Your fur was soft, your movements a little clumsy, but you held his gaze with a quiet intensity. You were already observing, sizing him up with those sharp eyes of yours.

“Hey there,” Alex murmured, his voice low and soothing. He didn’t make any sudden moves, giving you time to get used to his presence. You sniffed the air around him, inching closer with curiosity.

You let out a soft huff, finally taking the leap and pressing your nose against his hand. His scent was warm, familiar somehow. It made your tail twitch, and you edged even closer, feeling the pull toward him even though this was all new.

Alex chuckled softly, watching your hesitant movements. “You’re a little shy, huh?” His hand moved gently, fingers brushing over your ears. “That’s alright. We’ll get used to each other.”

At the gentle touch, your tail wagged—a small, quick motion that you tried to suppress but couldn’t quite manage. His hand was warm, steady, and something about his voice put you at ease. You hadn’t even realized you were leaning into his touch until he chuckled again, clearly noticing.

“You like that, don’t you?” he whispered, rubbing behind your ears.

You nuzzled into his hand without hesitation this time, feeling that initial nervousness slip away. His presence was calming, reassuring in a way that made you feel safe. You had heard about Alex Keller, how he was calm under pressure, how his team trusted him completely. Now you understood why.

The handler smiled from where he stood, watching the interaction. “She’s yours, Keller. Treat her well, and she’ll have your back for life.”

Alex’s grin softened as he knelt closer, letting you press against his leg as he continued to scratch behind your ears. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you,” he said quietly, more to you than to anyone else.

Your eyes lifted to meet his, and for a moment, it felt like something clicked. A bond, fragile but forming, one that you knew would only grow stronger with time. This was your handler. Your partner.

And as Alex stood, motioning for you to follow, you eagerly padded after him, your tail wagging a little more freely now. This was the beginning of something new—something you both were ready to take on together.

[cyanide-capsules]

Alex Keller was a very open man, or at least that's how he came off.

He was friendly, wide-eyed, the kind of guy you feel like you've known all your life. He seemed to naturally click with everyone he spoke with, including the 141.

Simon Riley was the opposite of him, he was a skeptic. Closed off, suspicious of those he didn't know. This was no different with Alex than anyone else, but there was something about the bright eyed American that made Simon's brain tick.

He didn't know exactly why he felt more on edge around Alex than other new people he met, and he wouldn't understand why until he overheard a conversation between Alex and Gaz.

"Alex man, can you keep a secret?"

Alex laughed. "Do you even know when my birthday is?"

Gaz laughed along, but something seemed to click with Simon.

He knew.. Nothing about Alex.

His middle name, his birthday, where he grew up, his favorite colour, nothing.

That's why he had been so off-put by him, the man was a complete mystery. A mystery that nobody even considered solving because Alex just naturally came off as an open book.

He didn't know what to think from then on, he tried to dig up what he could on Alex but knew he wouldn't find much without the assistance of Laswell.

He spent weeks avoiding the American, narrowing his eyes at him when he was in his vicinity, completely unaware that the two of them shared such similarities.

Two enigmas, one much more obvious than the other.

It wasn't until some random Wednesday night, nobody awake but the stars. Simon stumbled upon Alex just outside the bases front door, a lit cigarette nursed between his fingers.

He wanted to ignore him, go back to bed, but he found himself stepping outside with the other.

Alex acknowledged him with a smile and a nod, but didn't speak. Simon stared at him, not bothering to hide the fact that he was searching for answers in the other man's warm gaze.

There was a thick silence between them, it wasn't uncomfortable but, it was far from comfortable at the same time.

Alex broke it first.

"I take you're not a fan of me?"

He chuckled dryly, humorlessly. An observation Simon couldn't say he expected. His eyes didn't leave the American, watching closely as he took a drag off the cigarette. He didn't know Alex smoked but, then again, what did he know about Alex?

That's the entire reason he was here.

"Don't trust what I don't know."

Simon finally replied, though by now it was more of a statement on its own than an actual response to his comment.

Alex shrugged, he didn't seem at all bothered by Simon's reply. Silence spread between them once more, Simon didn't like Alex's lack of response.

"You're ex-CIA, that's all anyone knows about you. Nobody knows anything about you, but they trust you."

Simon continued, he wanted answers, he wanted a reason to trust the other man. Alex was quiet, tapping the ash from his cigarette before he replied.

"What was that saying? Those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones?"

In any other moment, Simon would have been offended by the comparison. But, Alex was right.

They were, almost scarily similar in every aspect but their personalities.

Silence again. It was more welcome this time around. Simon always appreciated the quiet when he needed to think.

The silence didn't last too long this time, Alex spoke up again.

"Humor me, do you ever forget that you're a person and not just a soldier?"

That question alone haunted him for days, Simon now felt uncomfortably aware of Alex.

The way the americans grin always seemed to falter ever so slightly when he held it, how his gaze would fog over at the scent of smoke or when it got too quiet, how his prosthetic always seemed to be moving in some way or another.

He was aware now, aware of the similarities they shared.

Aware of how, just like him, Alex was a soldier before he was a man.

[whimsymanaged]

FirstPrince Falling in Love 100 Different Ways (3/100)

Based on rizcriz’s prompt: Alex and Henry in line at a bar both waiting for their turn. Henry accidentally cuts Alex, and he expects Alex to get mad but Alex is far too attracted to him to be mad

“Buy me a drink, and we’ll be solid.”

-

The bar is, for lack of a better word, hoppin’, and Alex feels like he’s been waiting to get the bartender’s attention forfuckingever. He glances over his shoulder at where Nora and June are laughing over something on Nora’s phone and feels a surge of FOMO. He’s even more impatient when he turns back to the bar, but to his relief, the bartender’s finally looking at him.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks.

Alex is opening his mouth to reply when a crisp British accent calls out, “Two Moscow mules, please.”

What the fuck? Alex whips around, ready to cuss the hell out of whoever just had the audacity, when he’s met with the most wide-eyed, sweet-faced, offensively tall man he’s ever seen.

“Oh, Christ, I’m so sorry,” the man says, a very attractive flush spreading across his spectacular cheekbones. “I didn’t mean to cut the line.”

Well, isn’t this interesting. Anger vanishing as quickly as it came, Alex props his elbow against the bar and raises his eyebrows. He has to tip his chin up to look at the man, and he’s not even a little bit mad about it. “Buy me a drink, and we’ll be solid, sweetheart.”

The man’s flustered expression turns to surprise then to interest. His gaze slides over Alex, warm and lingering. Then, his full pink lips tick up, and he holds his hand out. “I’m Henry.”

“Alex.” Alex shakes Henry’s hand, and if he rubs his thumb across Henry’s knuckles while doing it, fucking sue him. “Gin and tonic, by the way. Make it quick, yeah? I’m not very patient.”

“Hmm, too bad,” Henry says, his smile turning into something more suggestive. “I like to take my time.”

God. Fuck. Alex is so interested. “You got two drinks, right? Are you with someone?”

“My best mate,” Henry says. “What about you?”

That makes him realize he completely forgot about Nora’s and June’s drinks. “My sister and best friend. I have to order for them, but after that, do you want to—”

“Yes,” Henry answers immediately.

“I didn’t even finish,” Alex protests with a laugh.

“Pity.” Henry smirks, eyes bright. “We can remedy that later tonight, if you like.”

Motherfucker. Alex casts one more look at Nora and June, who are now watching him and Henry with open curiosity. Nora sticks her tongue into the inside of her cheek and thrusts it in and out.

Alex quickly looks back at Henry. “Would your friend be cool with me coming over to your table?”

Henry smiles. “I’m sure he would. I could even send him off to entertain your sister and best friend, if you’d like. He’s a lot of fun. Very respectful.”

“Fucking excellent.” Alex is almost vibrating with excitement. “Let’s do that.”

[rallamajoop]

Alex Winters on Marco, David, and David/Marco

So, there's this post by @silvermaplealder that I've had in my likes for ages, featuring some very nice fanart of Marko from The Lost Boys ‒ but also the quote "Can't forget how Alex Winter said David and Marko were BDSM partners" ‒ apparently based on an interview they no longer had a link to.

So I had to go look for the source for this, and I think I've found it ‒ it's an interview Alex Winters did with Spectrum Culture in 2017.

Here's the money quote in full, because damn, it's a hell of a statement:

To us, David [Sutherland’s character] was kind of like a pimp. What I had in my head about Marko’s relationship with David was he was basically my pimp and sometimes you’re having a sexual relationship with that person and sometimes you’re not. But, there is a very bonded master-slave kind of aspect to it and then there’s a lover aspect to it. Those undercurrents are all there. They weren’t something I was going to try and drive in front of the audience, but they were fun to play with.

So the way Alex Winters actually puts it isn't exactly 'BDSM partners' so much as 'he was basically my pimp', or 'master-slave'. Which does track well with how much David orders Marko around ('Marko, food,' get the bottle, let's go for a ride, etc). But even if the sexual element sounds pretty casual ("sometimes you’re having a sexual relationship with that person and sometimes you’re not") he's very open that he was playing the role with the assumption that Marko and David probably fucked.

Doesn't sound like it was something he and Keifer Sutherland (David) talked about explicitly, but he does hammer home that none of the adults on set were unaware of what a very homoerotic film they were making. I'd already seen some interviews where Alex Winters talks about how those aspects of the film resonated with him, coming from a family of dancers and a background in theatre, and how he'd based Marko on all the queer folks he'd met doing Broadway since his childhood, but this sure is a whole level more information beyond!

But I never can resist the urge to overanalyse my favourite canons, so yet more thoughts below.

Whatever David and Marko might have going, it doesn't seem to pose any obstacle to (eg) whatever David's up to with Star, or might have in mind for Michael. And Marko sure does not seem to mind being David's butt boy (in any sense of the word) ‒ like, he does not come across as obsequious or spineless, he's not hanging on David's every word, but he seems to be 100% into whatever's going on there. It's hard to read him as bothered by the idea he might be about to lose his position to Michael either: anyone David wants is in.

But even more interesting to me is framing David as a pimp, mostly for what that implies the way he treats Star. Because sure, she doesn't get to go run off with Michael on his bike without David rolling up to remind her of her place, but (with apologies to any David/Star shippers) I can't read him as genuinely attracted to or invested in her, or not beyond how useful she is as bait. Her job is to bring home wide-eyed young men, but if she gets any funny ideas about getting attached (maybe convincing one of them to "take her away from all this"?) ‒ well, David's here to remind her who she belongs to.

Tl;dr: where Star's concerned, David reads way more 'pimp' than 'boyfriend' to me. Maybe there was potential for something else, back before it became apparent she wasn't going to make her first kill without a fight ‒ but then, Marko's not in a wildly different place himself. In fact, the biggest difference between Star and Marko might be that he likes his place in the pecking order, and is never happier than when he's covered in blood.

For context, this all comes out of the interviewer asking outright if there was something going on between Marko and David (Is there this strange, almost homosexual relationship between your character and Kiefer Sutherland’s character? […] He always asks your character to do things for him.) The tear that runs down David's face when he's chasing Sam and the Frogs after Marco's death is brought up too, though I'm pretty sure I've read elsewhere that was a lucky accident with more to do with those vampire contact lenses being horrifically uncomfortable (leaving it in the finished film was no accident though). Either way, any reaction David might have had to Marko's death ends at the cave: during the big finale, it's Paul, not David, who goes after the Frog brothers, hollering "You killed Marko!" (David's only got eyes for Michael at that point.)

To what degree David's ever been a pimp/fuckbuddy/master to Paul and/or Dwayne may be up to your own imagination, since there's just not much to go on there. But the more I think about what we see of David and Marko, the more I'm struggling to think of any time David even directly addresses either of the other two. Even in the 'Michael wants to know what's going on' exchange, it's "what's going on, Marko?" that he starts with. Heck, he even seems to be holding up Marko as a major fringe-benefit of joining them ("That's what I love about this place, you ask, you get. You'll like it here, Michael.") Which is probably not worth reading too much into (the gist and the vibes are so much more important than anything specific David's actually saying), but still, jeez, what is the message there? Join the Lost Boys, plenty of Marko to go around? Or, just letting you know how I like it?

In the same article, Winters also talks about his ideas about Marko's background:

As an actor and a director, I subscribe to the theory that you create as much backstory as the character needs in terms of what is going to be on-screen. Otherwise, you’re playing details and subtleties that make no sense to the audience and that just becomes navel gazing. With a character like Marko, who only says a couple of lines in the entire movie and doesn’t really have much need for context, it wasn’t something I was going to spend an enormous amount of time on. He was just a homeless kid who had run away. Typical sort of ‘80s story, right? Someone from a crazy, conservative part of the country who ends up running away to a warmer climate where you can survive on the street. Very similar to how kids get picked up out at the bus station in Times Square.

And yeah, Marko as a young, queer runnaway who hitch-hiked across the country, maybe discovered a real thing for being ordered around while making some cash as a rent boy ‒ that definitely works. You can so easily picture him meeting the Lost Boys, realising they were everything his conservative folks would have hated, and jumping at the chance to join them. It's almost too obvious.

All this over a character who gets like two lines in the whole film, who will be remembered by most simply as 'the cute one' (as distinguished from The Loud One (Paul) and The Quiet One (Dwayne)) and whose biggest scene is arguably the one where he gets staked while unconscious. I do like the point Winters makes that there's no point in creating more backstory for a character than you'll ever get the chance to reflect in what makes it to screen. But this is a film where even 'the cute one' gets to throw himself gleefully into the massacre scene and come out basically glowing, and the amount of subtext they managed to pack into this guy is something wonderful.

I've seen a few different takes on Marco in fic, but I don't think I've ever seen anything that delves into his subbier side, or his apparent master/slave thing with David (or David's whole 'pimp' persona, come to think of it). And I get why that might be: if you're here to ship David with Michael or Star, it's easier to ignore those kind of complications. But when all the evidence and the actor's own intentions are laid out for you like this, damn, there is a lot there I'd love to see people play with.

[rentsturner]

blurb about a rough punishment? your choice xx

god there’s so many things I could do for this

With punishment, I think Alex is usually quite playful, doesn’t give you really serious punishments unless he’s really pissed. Yeah, you get spanked pretty often for teasing him, there’s a lot of edging and denial, but it’s never much worse than that. But that’s when Alex is in a good mood. When he’s in a bad mood, well that’s different.

Maybe you flirted with someone else at a bar, ignored Alex all night just to talk to some random guy, knowing it would rile him up and wanting to find out what Alex has in store for you. And it worked. Alex is angry, really pissed, his eyes dark, his gaze only on you and your poor target all night.

You can tell he’s angry on the drive home from the way he doesn’t say a word, just grips the gear stick with white knuckles. He hadn’t even said goodbye to anyone at the party, just grabbed your waist at midnight on the dot and practically dragged you to the car.

Now you’re kneeling naked on the floor at the foot of the bed, while Alex crouches behind you, his long fingers tying your arms securely with loops of rope. He yanks your hair back harshly, pressing his lips close to your ear.

“Such a fucking brat. Flirting with that guy all night, right in front of me, little slut.”

You moan at his words, almost ashamed at how the names make you wet, Alex’s deep voice angry in your ear.

“Al, please…” you can’t help but moan, craving his touch. But he just laughs.

“Oh? You want me now do you? Well too bad. You aren’t getting any pleasure tonight. Nah. I’m just gonna use you.”

He strides round so he’s stood in front of you and you look up at him, his eyes dark, mouth curling into a mean smirk, strands of dark hair falling over his forehead. He takes your face in his hands, stroking your cheek gently. Then he unbuckles his belt, undoes his zip and takes out his cock, pumping it right in front of your face.

“Open.”

He taps the head of his cock on your lips, pushing it past them as you open your mouth eagerly. Usually he starts off slow, lets your throat get used to the stretch, but not today. One hand cups the back of your head, the other pulling your chin down to open your mouth wider as he fucks harshly into your mouth. His tip brushes the back of your throat and you gag around him, but he doesn’t relent, pistoning his hips back and forth until you’re drooling down your own chest.

All you can taste, smell, feel is Alex. The hot weight of him on your tongue, his musky smell, his pubes tickling your nose, his grip tight on your hair, his deep groans whenever his tip slips past the back of your throat. You can tell he’s close by the way his cock begins to twitch in your mouth and you close your eyes, waiting for his load to spurt down your throat. But instead, he suddenly moves away, pulling out of your mouth, pumping himself roughly.

You watch him, wide-eyed, drool dripping from your chin, as he throws his head back in pleasure, twisting his wrist and cumming all over your chest.

“M-mine.” He pants, admiring the way his cum paints your skin.

Then he tucks himself back into his trousers, tidying himself up and shrugging his suit jacket back on. You whine as he grabs his car keys and walks towards the door.

“Al, no, wait-“

“Sorry, darling. I realised i never said my goodbyes at the party. I think I’ll go back for a few hours, spend a bit more time there. You’ll have to stay here, since you obviously aren’t well behaved enough to come with me.”

“But, Al, you can’t just leave me like this.”

“Oh I can. And I will. Maybe if I’m feeling nice when I get back, I might untie you before I go to bed. How does that sound?”

[il-predestinato]

In this edition of “further proof that they are soulmates”, I want to talk about Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc’s driving styles.

Charles 🤝 Max loving oversteer:

Charles 🤝 Max hating understeer:

And my favourite part...

Charles 🤝 Max making understeer work for them anyway and besting their teammates who actually prefer understeer:

Even though the chances of Max and Charles being teammates are slim to none (because Max is completely right in saying that two #1 drivers should never be on the same team together), JUST IMAGINE developing a car to suit these two.

Would it be a dream?! Because their preferences are so similar, developing towards one is the same as developing towards the other: they want responsiveness/snappiness and said fuck it - we have the talent to deal with the instability. Remember Charles’ pole lap in Singapore 2019? The madman basically went through T3 sideways (and yet went purple sector 1) and had insane snap oversteer 3 times but never lost it. Remember when Alex Albon was Max’s teammate, and Alex also prefers cars with oversteer... but then he saw just how much oversteer Max likes and called it “a whole different world of front [end]”?

Or perhaps the car would become an abomination, a MONSTROSITY with so much fucking oversteer, so insanely snappy and on a knife’s edge, and the rear would be so loose and unstable - that no other mortal would be able to handle it at all? Like just imagine the poor young driver’s test. Some innocent, wide-eyed academy driver shows up to drive “the fastest car on the grid” but goes rear first off of T1 every single time because the car is fucking IMPOSSIBLE to drive if you’re not Max or Charles. If one of them loses an appendix and can’t race for one weekend, the team might as well not field a second driver because trying to get someone else to cope with that car would be embarrassing for everyone involved.

It would be the best car by a mile on the entire grid.

It would be the worst fucking travesty of engineering on the entire grid too - utterly undrivable for mere mortals.

[royal-chandler]

written for @caressthosecheekbones , who requested some more kid fic from what has affectionately been titled the Biancaverse. here lies a tropey getting-into-trouble-at-school tale.

hope you enjoy it, friend! ✨

—

“I’m sorry, you want to file an appeal?”

“Yes,” Bianca says, parking herself on a stool at the kitchen island, sitting across from her parents and in front of her snack of strawberries and almond butter biscuit sandwiches that’s been awaiting her. She crosses her arms and pokes out her chin defiantly, clarifies, “because I don’t believe that I should be in trouble or have to go to after-school detention tomorrow.”

“Well now I see why it took you a minute to put your backpack away and join us, counselor,” Alex responds, careful to limit himself to only an amused smile. Every day his kids come up with hysterical Emmy-worthy material and it’s balancing on a taut parental tightrope, to not oppress their self-expression and feelings while also discouraging misbehavior. He glances to where Henry is standing right next to him and has his arms loose around their toddler son who is perched on the island. “We are in for some truly epic teen years, Henry. And what’s scary is that she’s got a pupil to teach all her techniques to. Please cover your ears, Artie.”

“Why?” Arturo asks, munching on a piece of mango out of a small bowl of fruit salad, sticky-fingered and bambi-eyed. He’s an easygoing child with a matchless sweet tooth and clearly would rather not have to busy his hands with anything other than his food.

“Because I’m terrified of two-headed monsters,” Alex answers under his breath at the same time Bianca wittingly cuts in, “I can just tell him about it when he’s older, Papi.”

“Darling, you do not have to file an appeal with us,” Henry says warmly, his gaze filled with an evergreen open affection. He prompts, “What do we always remind you of?”

“That I can talk to you about anything,” Bianca recites.

“And?”

“You’ll always listen.”

“Forever and ever, little love,” Henry swears. “No matter what it is. We always want to hear from you. Alright?”

At this, Bianca’s mouth trembles into a frown and it’s Alex’s heart breaking right in front of him. She’s been upset since they picked her up from the principal’s office, moody and angry—she’d marched up the stairs to her room immediately upon arrival—but this is different. This is his brilliant and caring daughter with tears gathering in her eyes, her arms unfolding and her hands now wringing, buckets of nerves spilled all over her. Alex had no idea how badly she was taking it and it chills him behind his ribs. “Oh, Binky, come here. Binks, mija, talk to us.”

Bianca climbs down from the stool and walks over to fit in the middle of her dads. Amazingly, at six, she’s speeding up to their height. She’s no longer the doll-sized baby that would lie between them in bed, reluctant to sleep and showing off her first smiles and laughs, deeply invested in keeping her dads as wide awake as her at two in the morning. Now, she’s taller than his midsection as she nestles into his side, her voice breaking up with cries.

“I don’t understand wh—why I’m in trouble! You guys always say how wrong bullying is and Jack was being really mean to Devon and making fun of him because he’s…he’s small and has to go to the other room to get extra help for his math lesson.” Frustration triggers a gale-strong sigh out of her. She wipes hastily at her face, clearing her cheeks. “I did what I was supposed to. I asked him to stop and he wouldn’t and I didn’t like it.”

“Binky, you okay?” Arturo checks in softly, looking on and his eyes wide with concern. Abandoning his snack, he reaches out, grabby hands in the air and trying to twist out of Henry's arms and ready to hurl himself off the island to get to her. “Binky.”

Bianca unglues herself from Alex and when Henry brings Arturo down closer to her, she hugs him and assures him that she’s okay and it's okay, Artie, placing a buzzing kiss on his crown of curls and getting him to giggle.

Immediately, Alex gets it and looking over at his husband, he sees the realization mirrored there as Henry gets Arturo back, hoisting their son on his hip.

Bianca had acclimated to being a sister smoothly, like a switch flipped on. She was over the moon when they’d first told her a new baby was on the way, offering to give away half of her toys and even her treasured purple bubble bath soap. She was so attentive the day Arturo came home from the hospital, holding him with help from Henry and pledging to take care of him forever. That vow has never once wavered in the past two and half years. Like every other sibling of humankind, she gets annoyed and mad; the two of them fuss over very superficial shit but she’s always been Arturo’s fiercest protector. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that she’s become another kid’s stalwart defender.

“Bianca Fox Claremont-Diaz,” Henry begins, his tone and smile gentle with her, his fingers delicately lifting her face. Alex is awed by the sight, sweetly aches at the tableau of his three loves and the perfect, so right image of Henry as a father. “Kit, we adore every bit of you and your big heart. We especially love that you look out for others. Yes, bullying is wrong and I’m happy that you remembered that. But how we respond to bullying matters.”

“I asked him to quit it, Daddy,” Bianca argues, sniffling.

“And that’s the right thing to do, absolutely,” Alex reiterates, encouraging. “And when you do that and it still doesn’t work, that’s when you involve your teacher. I know she wasn’t on the playground right that second but you could have waited until you saw her to report Jack. It wasn’t nice to push him, Bianca. Our actions have an impact and sometimes it’s different than what we wanted to happen. He could’ve gotten seriously hurt and you wouldn’t want that, right?”

It’s not instantaneous, Bianca goes through some wordless deliberation, emotions flitting across her face, but she mumbles out a short and quiet, “No.”

Running a hand over her hair, Alex says, “We’re not mad at you but we’re not exactly thrilled about that part. That can’t happen again, baby. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I understand,” she replies, nodding. “I’m sorry.”

“We know but now you have to make sure that your teacher knows and that Jack knows,” Alex tells her. “And you do have to attend detention because that’s the school’s rules and I think it’s a fair response.”

“Thirty minutes is a lifetime,” Bianca mopes.

“Thirty minutes is a cartoon episode on the Disney Channel, Binks. You will survive.”

“If you say so.”

“And then at some point soon we’re going to sit down and have dinner with Jack and his parents to talk about what happened and how we can prevent it in the future.”

“For real? Papi!”

“Them’s the breaks, kiddo,” Alex says, channeling his mother to his mini edition. “Honestly, it’ll be pretty awkward but it also might turn out okay. Maybe you and Jack can end up being friends and come to an understanding. You never know.”

Personally, Alex doubts it—the kid sounds like an exceptional jerk—but he can’t always tell Bianca what she wants to hear. That pesky parental tightrope.

Bianca scoffs anyway. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“Perhaps we aim for cordial then, hmm?” Henry suggests, princely and pragmatic. “That’s doable, yes?”

“I’ll try,” Bianca agrees, just as sensibly.

“That’s all we’ll ever ask, sweetheart.”

“…and that you don’t give a future lecture on appeals to your brother.”

—