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thetxtdevil · 2 days

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Witch's Brew

Taehyun x Reader

summary: a simple fairytale of a witch in the woods doing her duties of potion making with her raven familiar. however the familiar isn't just a bird to help with her responsibilities...

content: smut w/ plot, witch f.reader, familiar/demon taehyun/terry, dom taehyun, mentions of masturbation, begging, oral (fem receiving), slight spanking, bulge kink, let me know if i'm forgetting anything

word count: 3k

"a drop of vampires’ white blood, two tears of a siren, herbs from the troll's garden, water from the still stream"

your hands wave in circular motions over a big charcoal cauldron. your face glows the numerous hues from your potion. along side you a raven perched on a back of a wooden chair watching closely to the boiling concoction.

"here are the makings of the weeping soup!"

the potion's boiling bubbles get more abundant. the steam turns into weeping ghost like figures reflecting the name. a grin appears on you face and with wide eyes you look at the weeping soup with hunger. as it is your dinner for tonight.

"terry, darling, would you fetch me a ladle?"

the raven you spoke to croaks back to you and flies away. coming back as soon as you turn to the two bowls on the cauldron's side table. picking one up you raise your hand up the dark bird flies over and drops the spoon with its talons into your lifted hand. you scoop up the soup pouring it into the beautifully carved bowl and set it down. you then grab a smaller bowl and do the same but you place it down in-front of the raven.

the raven gurgles with contentment. you give him a big smile as you pick up your bowl and walk over to your sofa. extending your finger towards the tv, a flicker of electricity turns on the box and you watch with delight.

you were a witch raised by a coven of witches. you knew all things magic and the creatures who live amongst the magic. you excelled in potion making however, you fell behind the great skill of memorizing and brightness. you are smart, not a lot of witches could understand the art of potions but sometimes you could get a little... distracted.

your mother would find you in tears after you accidentally tipped over a bowl of bubbling liquid on the floor or the time a potion exploded in your face because you forgot to add a pinch of wolves fur.

this fact made your 16th birthday exciting as it is the age when a witch receives their familiar. familiars were demons that would obey you along with help you and they usually took the form of an animal. the day of your 16th birthday your coven dug up a black crystal that shimmered hues of blue and silver. you were beyond excited to see what your new friend would be.

you place it on your night stand next to your bed that night. you stared at it with big eyes until you fell asleep. drifting off you find yourself in a dream like state. everything was dark with white and grey smoke that formed shapes. you follow the patterns of the smoke and then you see the smoke stops you by forming a shape of a young man.

he was unreal. the figure had sculpted muscles, his teeth were bright and beautiful, encapsulated by sweet lips.

"who are you?"

"i am taehyun."

"kiss me" you blurted out

the man smiles at you but doesn't do anything. taehyun's body starts to fade away and you rush towards him but it was too late. you wake up with a loud sound of a bird's call. you wince at the sound along with the sun hitting your eyes. you look over to see that your black crystal has been replaced with a beautiful black raven.

you were a fully grown witch now. you had a few years with your familiar you named terry and graduated earning the title of potioneer. it was time to move on, your coven didn't want you to leave, but you knew you had to do it besides your house was only 10 minutes away if you take a broomstick.

your house was a classic witches' cottage. small, wooden, with vines overgrowing it. yet it had the necessary advancements of modern day living: a working toilet and shower, heater, ac, wifi. it was all you and terry needed.

one morning after it rained all night, the sun was rising making the grass and vines shine. terry flew over the fields of freshly watered grass scavenging items for your future potions as you were still asleep. as the raven was enjoying the smell of earth he notices a women running. terry isn't too worried about her until he sees the lady heading towards the cottages. terry soars to the window of your bedroom. he croaks loudly making sure you wake up.

"huh? what?"

you're a mess waking up by terry's noises. and that's when you hear a loud knock at the door. terry flys up on the cottage’s roof to over hear the two. you open the door to see a familiar face from your coven.

terry on the roof leans down. he's protective of you and doesn't want any intruders messing around.

"y/n! y/n! you have to help us our coven was cursed and a plague is spreading!"

"what? how did this happen?"

"one of the younglings was blamed for stealing a flower from another's coven's garden and they were not too fond of that"

you were stunned. witches are known to be cruel but to put a curse upon a whole coven because of a small thing was medieval.

"we have repelled the curse but people are still sick. i know you're good at making potions so i thought you could make a cure"

there was no way you could say no. this was your family it was your duty to use your abilities to help. so thats what you plan to do. you pack a basket of food and simple potions for the women to take back until you make a cure for the plague.

terry and you are off on your task. you take a trip to the mystical farmer's market trying to find ingredients: rosemary, pixie dust, lavendar, four leaf clovers, anything that would show signs of health. terry flies over a rock shop croaking at you.

"no terry i don't think stones would be useful"

he caws again, you ignore until terry lands on your shoulder and nips your ear.

"ow, ok, if you insist"

you walk over to the rock booth looking over the great selection. you pick up a amethyst and a rose quartz. you were about to settle on those two until you found a rock that resembled the crystal you received when getting your familiar. you smiled looking at terry, his raven head tilting so his eyes can look at you. you buy the rock and thought to yourself even though you're not going to use it, it was nice to have as decoration.

after a million of tries and fails you start to give up hope. ingredients were everywhere, some burnt and ripped. the raven watches cry out of frustration. you crash on your sofa to rest your head. terry flies over laying a blanket on top of your tired body.

"y/n... y/n!"

your eyes open to darkness. your look around to see smoke like shapes you've seen before. looking beside you, you see the man from you dream a long time ago.

"taehyun?"

"hi"

"hi... what are you doing in my dreams again"

"you're giving up hope which means you're giving up on your coven"

"i know but i'm having a hard time" you lean your head down

"you need to try again" the man rubs his pointed nose on your cheek lovingly

"but i've done everything"

"not the stone"

"the stone?" that damn stone terry wanted you to buy "will you finally kiss me if i use it"

just like before taehyun smiles at you and he wraps his body around you until his body turned into fog. a slight "i will." was the last thing you heard from him.

you wake up feeling a little more rested. turning your head to the work table your see your raven perched next to that black stone. you got up to take a good look at the stone, it even had the same shimmer of blue and silver the familiar crystal had. you look at your empty cauldron and then back at the stone. you lifted the stone and threw it at the bottom of the cauldron breaking it into smaller pieces.

the opened rock blasted bright light that filled the dim cottage. terry started to croak at the scene and fly up to grab more ingredients. both you and terry started throwing things in the cauldron like the broken rock's light opened your minds. after hours of spell casting and stirring, the potion was made. this was going to work you could feel it in your potion making bones.

even though it was nighttime you did not want to wait for the next day to deliver the cure. the coven has been waiting patiently and you didn't want to fail them. you wrap yourself in your purple cloak, putting a heavy bowl of potion in a basket, you straddle your broomstick and fly to your old home.

terry arrives before you croaking loudly to awaken the coven. the ones who were less sick came out to greet and praise you. they lead you to the child who was hit hard by the curse. you pour a cup of the white illuminated liquid and give it to the child. terry and you watch closely as the youngling blooms like a flower as soon as she gulps the potion. you turn to look at terry with the biggest smile and the whole coven gathers to get the trusted potion.

you arrive at the cottage after spending time at your first home. you were exhausted, you could feel the heaviness of the dark bags you had under your eyes. but you told yourself that you saved the day. you waddle to your bed and sink into it. the beautiful raven watched from the window as you close you eyes to rest.

as usual the sunrise awakens your tired eyes. you try to turn your body away from the sun's gaze but you then realize there's something in your way. this something was bigger than you, and had their arm around your waist. you freak out leaping out of bed.

"what the hell terry where are you when i need you?" you thought to yourself. looking at the sleeping intruder you found yourself dizzy from the fact that it wasn't a stranger, it was taehyun, a very naked taehyun at that. you climb back on your bed to get a closer look at the beautiful man.

in your dreams taehyun was only shades of white and blurry but now he was very real and detailed. tan skin that glowed in the sun, his muscles seemed more defined in real life, his face was soft yet structural. your hand instinctively strokes his hair, admiring it you realize he had black hair with strands of dark blue and silver.

taehyun slowly opens his eyes, blinking a few times to grasp his environment. he looks at you and smiles.

"hi y/n"

"h-hi"

his voice was sweet yet raspy. you lay your head down so you were looking at him at the same level. he smiles just like he has in your dreams.

"so you're real" you poke his bare shoulder

he huffs a laugh "you mean you haven't figured out?"

you look at him confused

"i'm the demon who helps you"

your eye bulge out of your eyes "terry?!"

he laughs at you while pushing you disheveled hair out of your face.

"you're supposed to obey me so everytime time i've asked you to kiss me you were supposed to"

"you're very persistent on that, but that was only a dream"

you frown. you've been so obsessed with the appearance of this man, now that he his real and right in front of you the more you actually want to touch him.

"i did promise that i would kiss you if you used that stone"

"you sure did" you smile

taehyun lifts his head and leans in to kiss you slowly. your mind was exploding the handsome man from your dreams was finally kissing you. the kiss lasted for a while until you finally understood that this was terry your raven. the raven that has seen you naked when you get dressed, the raven whose seen you do some questionable things because you live alone. you lean away from taehyun's kiss and rub your forehead.

"hey what's wrong?"

tae turns your head towards him so he can read you. your blush gave away your embarrassed thoughts to tae.

"yes I've been with you all this time, but i pledged to be with you forever"

the statement felt caring and comforting. you smile as you wrap your arms around his neck and pushed into another deep kiss with the man. this time it felt heated. tae shifts from his spot to hover you. his hands roamed your body softly as if he thought you'd break if he pushed too hard. he kisses your face, jaw, and nips at your ear

"do you just want me to kiss you or do you want more?"

"more" you whine

"more what?"

"more of you, i want you and anything... please"

he smirks at you politeness and does what he is told. kissing you he reaches to the little tied bow holding the collar of your dress and loosens it. he leaves your lips to leave a trail of sloppy kisses down your neck and chest. tae finds himself a little impatient with you dress since there was no easy way to take it off other than tearing it apart. the sound of torn fabric fills your ears.

"terry!" you gasp

taehyun doesn't say anything as he goes back to kissing your body. he had a destination in mind something he's thought of everytime you touched yourself thinking you were alone. stopping himself right above your clothed pussy he looks up at you. your eyes are on him without saying anything he can tell that you were begging him to do something.

just like your poor dress he grabs the thin cloth covering your sweet parts and rips it off. before you could scold the man tae dives his face into your pussy. lapping all the juicy you made just from him kissing you. you grab and pull his raven black hair as you moan loudly. tae pushes a finger in your cunt thrusting it along his tongue. he enjoyed this, eating you out like you never fed the raven. he purposely moans to send vibrations to your core. he replaces his tongue with another finger and starts to suck on your clit. he glaces at his witch whose back was arched with eyes squeezed shut. he reaches his other hand from you thighs to your breast. groping and pinching he was determined for you to cum the hardest you've ever had.

"i- i'm... ugh..."

your body was shaking you couldn't get the words out hot from taehyun's touches. tae didn't want to stop his tongue on your cunt so he hummed. this put you to your last breaking point cumming onto tae as he laps the cum all up.

taehyun lifts his torso up, now on his knees between your legs. he takes the time to look at the sinful sight. your clothes were ripped and the holes were only showing off the part that are usually covered. plush legs spread just for him, breasts moving up and down breathing hard from the orgasm, you had dried up tears on you blushed face. it was beautiful to the demon.

he watched your eyes drift down to his exposed member. the size and bulkiness was enough to make you wet again. tae smirks and hovers over you again to peck your lips.

"say it."

"use that pretty cock and fuck me already"

taehyun shivers at your dirty command. he kisses you one more time before straighting up again.

"flip over and ass up"

with no questions asked you turn your body and lifted your ass straight to tae's face wiggling it a bit. he lifts his hand up to smack down the plush flesh. you squeak at the action which again excites taehyun. he bends over your body giving you a kiss on the shell of your ear whispering

"i like the sounds you make for me will you make more with my dick ruining your cunt?"

you moan a yes dropping you head down as you feel his big erection against your soaking heat. his hands grip your hips as he pushes into your tight walls. tae throws his head back gasping at the feeling. he waits there letting you adjust only for you to start rocking your hips back and forth. tae then takes the lead thrusting into your core faster and faster listening to every noise you make.

you felt beyond good, way better than anything else. you then felt his hand on your belly pushing down. you gasp at what his intention were to feel his bulge that he was creating.

"can- you fill me up?"

tae smirks "as you wish"

tae's thrust became quicker and you joined by moving your hips. his hand still on your belly then drifts towards your clit. the heated feeling came back to you making your tight wall clench around tae. both of you lose your rhythm tae's motions on your clit becomes rushed which help you to your second climax which in turn helps tae to his. your cum now everywhere you whimper at the overstimulation of the man still going. tae keeps his word by blasting inside you covering every bit of your walls white.

he slumps over your torso sweaty flesh clinging to one another. tae snuggles you, head in the crease of your neck giving a few kisses here and there while lightly rubbing shapes onto you're skin.

"if you were terry this whole time why couldn't you have helped me out?"

"helped you with your potions or with your poor fingering skills?" he nips your ear again.

you both smile to yourselves and eventually fall asleep again.

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

#txt imagines #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt smut #txt thoughts #txt x reader #txt x you #txt x y/n #taehyun hard thoughts #taehyun hard hours #taehyun x reader #taehyun smut #taehyun scenarios #taehyun x you #taehyun x y/n #txt devil

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lohstandfound · 6 months

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Have I ever talked about the concept I had of the squip being used to basically erase a person and create an entire new identity in that body?

#lohst.txt #from the void #sci fi horror i guess #i had an au where Jake goes missing and loke a month later this new celebrity is everywhere #the thing is. he looks exactly like jake #rhe only difference is his hair colour #and his eyes are now a bright electric blue #howevee the squip hasn't deleted the memories and everything #more like suppressed them #so jake is still theree. just veey deep down #however there are things that still seem oddly familiar #why? he hasn't figured it out #why is this town familiar #why does kt feel like he knows his way around #he keeps going to the same places like hes been there many times before #but thats impossible. this is the first time he's been here #what really trips him up is the boy he meets #the boy who looks at him like he's scene a ghost #the boy who's touch feels oh so familiar #like theyve done this before #then suddenly he remembers #but he's stuck in this loop of spending nights drinking to be himself #to fight against the thing locking him deep in his own mind #knowing that as soon as he's sober again he disappears #i dont know why i went with jake. ir coild probably work with rich #anyway i mist sleep

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thevillainswhore · 2 months

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You Look Good On Camera, Baby

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Bucky’s not letting you leave the photobooth, not until he’s had his way with you.

Warnings: Established relationship, teasing, kissing, smut, public sex, p in v, quickie, finger sucking, uses panties to keep reader quiet, creampie.

Author’s note: Unbeta’d, warning graphics by @rookthorne

Aaand all of a sudden we have another oneshot. Sigh. This one has actually been on my mind since these pictures were first released so a big thank you to Lana for finally giving me the push to make it happen 🤭 really enjoyed this one 🤍

“Here?!” you screeched.

“Yeah.” Bucky shrugged, unfazed. “What’s wrong with that?”

You choked on your own spit at his nonchalance, how carefree he was about this. “W—What do you mean what’s wrong with fucking here, Bucky? We’re in a damn photobooth!”

The blank expression on his face was unchanging. “So?”

The words on the tip of your tongue died out. Your boyfriend could be a little freaky in the bedroom sometimes and you were all for it. Never had you both risked the danger of public sex, however.

“You’re out of your damn mind if you think we’re doing it in public,” you scoffed before beginning to make your way out of the stall.

But you were quickly stopped in your tracks as Bucky slammed his arm against the opposing wall, effectively blocking your path. “We’re not leaving until I’ve fucked you.”

A shudder of arousal ran down your spine at the gruffness of his voice. “Baby,” you laughed nervously. “I know we like to experiment sometimes, but this is a little far, don’t you think?”

The air between you was thick with tension, especially with a pair of bright blue eyes staring you down so intensely you imagined the burning embers of a fire raging behind them.

You gulped as Bucky slowly licked his lips, giving you a once over that made you feel too exposed in an already revealing sundress. There was a short distance between you, and your boyfriend’s stature was towering and beefy, taking up a large presence — his imposing nature made the hairs on your arms stand up.

He walked you backwards slowly, step by step, until you hit the far wall of the booth. Pressing his nose against the curve of your neck, he snarled. “All I know is that my cock is so fuckin’ hard for you right now and if I don’t have your pussy wrapped around it within the next thirty seconds, I’m gonna haul you over my shoulder and take you out there in front of the whole damn mall.”

You thought you could tamp down the moan trapped in your throat, but you were sorely mistaken when it unleashed without remorse. Your chest heaved with exhilaration and your fingers twitched excitedly at the prospect of something so scandalous.

“So what’s it gonna be, sweetheart? In this photo booth with a little privacy? Or out there where everyone can watch me ruin you? Your choice.”

You had not expected this outcome when you had dragged your boyfriend over to the booth. You wanted to take cute pictures and add them to your keepsake memory box. Now you were deciding your fate; whether you would be leaving your dignity in the tiny stall or chance getting arrested for public indecency in the middle of the shopping mall.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, awaiting your answer.

“In h—here,” you whispered in anticipation.

The cheshire cat grin you received in return spiked your nerves even further. “Clever girl.”

Without giving you a chance to backtrack on your decision, Bucky hoisted you up into his arms and smothered your squeal of shock with his lips. He wasted no time snaking his tongue into your mouth, fighting for dominance like always.

“Mmph!” you moaned when he flicked his tongue against yours. A zing of electricity shot down to your pussy and you threaded your fingers through his long hair, pulling it tightly.

Even after so many years, the spark between you and Bucky was still alive. Throughout the trysts of your sexual experiences together, the attraction to each other had only intensified. He was sexier now than ever before. And even if he came up with outlandish ideas that made you step out of your comfort zone, you held so much trust in him that it was easy to follow him to the depths of sin.

A string of saliva connected between your lips as Bucky pulled away for air. While he was reckless for suggesting such a depraved idea of public sex, he was smart enough to realise the two of you were short on time to make it happen.

“Hold on,” he warned before handling your weight over to one arm. With the other, he unzipped the fly of his trousers and shuffled them down just past his ass until his cock bounced out.

You gasped at the sight. Bucky really was hard for you already, if the angry looking vein straining from his thick length was anything to go by. He was throbbing, you could see his dick viciously twitching with need and your thighs clenched around his waist with hunger.

Your boyfriend squeezed your hip. “You like seeing me desperate for you, huh baby?”

You tightened your lips to try and hide your smile and shrugged innocently. “Can’t say I mind it so much.”

Bucky growled with a smirk. “You’re a fuckin’ tease, girl.”

The amusement was quick to wipe from your face when he reached down and ripped the panties covering your mound. “Bucky!” you scolded. “Those were new!”

He rolled his eyes playfully, trying not to laugh at the way the shredded material now hung from your ankle. “Oh, hush. I’ll buy you some more.”

You huffed. “What? So you can rip them off me again?”

Bucky chucked under your chin condescendingly. “Look at you, learning so fast.”

Smug bastard, you cursed internally.

“Gonna stop complaining and let me fuck you now, doll?”

You scowled and poked his chest with your finger. “You better watch the way you speak to me— OH!” The retort on your tongue cut off as Bucky sheathed the entirety of his length inside of your pussy in one smooth thrust. Your nails dug harshly into the firm muscle of his shoulders and you buried your head into his neck. “H—Holy shit.”

Bucky panted breathlessly, just as affected as you. Though he still had the gall to tease you. “You were saying?”

You lifted your head to glare at him, still winded. “You’re damn lucky I love you.” And though you wanted to scold your boyfriend for his cheek, you couldn’t help but squirm on his cock. There was only so much you could take until it wasn't enough — you needed him to move. To feel the delicious scrape of his length against your tight walls. “Now shut up and fuck me before someone comes.”

“You’re so hot when you boss me around,” Bucky moaned before kissing you with urgency.

The nails of his fingers dug crescent shapes into your bare thighs, but the sting of pain was nothing compared to the slow drag of his cock leaving your cunt. You whimpered as his thick girth left you inch by inch until only the tip sat inside of you.

“Gonna beg me for it, baby?” he asked.

You blew out an impatient huff and tugged on his hair harshly until he groaned. “Give me your cock, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Eh,” he shrugged. “Good enough.”

A high pitched keen was forced out of you when Bucky thrusted his hips up, the full nine inches of his dick sat deep inside of your pussy. “Fuck!”

“Should’ve begged like I asked and maybe I’d have gone a little easier on you, sweetheart,” he said tauntingly.

“If you ever think that I would want it easy then you don’t know me at all,” you clapped back.

Your boyfriend’s eyes shone with pride. “That’s my girl.”

Bucky fucked like it was the first time every time. His movements were careful and his hands were greedy; always touching you, always gathering you as close as possible to him. And while he was soft with his caresses, his desire to roughly pound his cock into your cunt, as deep as it humanely could, was another story.

“God, you’re like a fuckin’ vice around my dick,” he choked out. “Would’a thought you’d have loosened up by now, baby. But I can still barely move.”

Unable to speak without screaming, you sucked his neck, bruising his skin until it turned a dark purple.

“You markin me, huh? Want everybody to know who I belong to?”

You nodded your head while whimpering, the nails of your fingers scratching against Bucky’s scalp.

The motion of his thrusts made his balls slap against your ass — he loved it when you got possessive. “Filthy fuckin’ girl. Don’t worry, doll. I’m all yours.”

Letting go of his neck with a pop, you loudly whined out, “So good— cock feels so good in me, baby. Fucking me just right.”

“Oh, I know. But you gotta turn down the volume, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “Save it for the bedroom, alright?”

You tried, you really did. But the way the head of his cock repeatedly stroked against the sensitive spongy spot of your pussy made your inhibitions blurry and you couldn’t help moaning like a whore.

Bucky tutted and shook his head in mock disapproval. “Guess I have to do everything for you, hm?” His lips curled up in perverse satisfaction as he shoved three of his fingers into your mouth.

You hummed around them instantly while staring into his eyes. He made you this way; a willing body for him to toy with, a woman who was quick to fall under his command and you lived for it. You gargled around his large fingers as you jolted each time he drove his cock into you, drool dripping down from your chin and landing on your boyfriend’s lower stomach and dick.

“Can’t even let my fingers keep you quiet, huh? Just have to make sure everyone knows how good it feels to be fucked by me.”

Your back slammed against the wall of the stall and the force of Bucky’s hips rocked the whole thing back and forth. His strength only turned you on more and even with the intrusion of his fingers, your noises grew louder, more unabashed.

“Shit, you sound so pretty.” His eyes darted towards the swinging panties still attached to your ankle and he quickly removed his fingers to grab them. “Such a good girl for me, baby. But I think we need somethin’ a little more efficient to quiet my eager girl down.”

Before you had the chance to whimper again, Bucky shoved your underwear into your mouth. To both of your luck, your moans became muffled enough to not draw attention. “Perfect.”

Though the volume of your sounds had been solved, the slick noises coming from your dripping cunt became the center of attention.

“Are you that fuckin’ soaked for me, sweetheart?” Bucky’s eyes rolled back as his cock throbbed at the feel of you. Even though you were wet, your walls still hugged his shaft.

“Mhm!” you mumbled over your makeshift gag. Your worries of being caught had long disappeared, your main focus now to revel in the building tension from your lower stomach creeping to the surface.

The two of you were only concealed by a pathetic thin curtain that didn’t even close all the way. It left a large gap, one that should a member of the public managed to notice, would reveal Bucky’s bare ass and your scrunched up face, moaning in pleasure at the feel of his cock.

Again, you were so far out of your realm to notice. Though Bucky did as he glanced over his shoulder and the high he got from the danger was addictive.

Wrapping an arm around you tightly, Bucky discreetly reached into his jean pocket with his free hand while keeping up his momentum. He was so close to the edge, balancing on the precipice of cumming, but he strived to hold on just a little longer.

Grabbing the loose change, he discreetly dispensed it into the money slot of the machine. “You think you’re gonna cum for me, doll?” he asked, short windedly while his thighs trembled.

You whined desperately around your panties, your eyes glossy from the overwhelming thread that was beginning to unravel.

“Alright. I’m gonna count down from three and you’re gonna give it to me, yeah? Can you do that for me?”

Thumping your head back against the wall, you closed your eyes and nodded hastily.

“Good. Ready, baby?” he asked.

Your nails scratched the back of his neck in approval and he began.

“Three.” He pistoned his hips, fucking you with all the energy he had left in him.

“Two.” The deep dirty grind of cock into your cunt was torturing and your thighs shook as you fought to hold out.

“One.” On his final count, Bucky pinched your clit, hard. Your eyes shot wide open at the same time multiple bright flashes blanketed the photobooth and your mouth dropped on a muted scream.

“Holy— F—Fuck!” Your boyfriend’s shout echoed across the white walls while his fist slammed next to your head. A huge load of his cum shot up into your cunt, overflowing the already full hole.

Your mind swam in ecstasy from the adrenaline filled haze of your orgasm. The pure rush of your sparking nerves was a familiar thing with Bucky and yet the sensation was so deeply gratifying every single time.

You sucked in lungfuls of air on your comedown, letting your mouth hang open while your ruined panties dropped with a wet slap onto the floor. Shivers wracked through your body and before you could even notice the coldness, Bucky enveloped his warm body around you while he stroked your cheek.

“That’s it,” he cooed soothingly while he recovered from his own intense orgasm. “Take it easy, sweetheart.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him closer to you, until there was no space between you. “That was fun,” you slurred lazily.

Bucky’s tired laugh rumbled through you. “Damn fuckin’ right it was.” Lifting his head out of your neck, he kissed you delicately. “You alright?”

“I’m great,” you told him truthfully. “Though you may have to help me walk because I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

He grinned, satisfied. “I’m that good, huh?”

You lightly smacked his chest, even if you couldn’t contain your own cheesy smile. “Nope. I’m not inflating your ego more than it already is.” Turning your head to the screen of the booth, your eyes widened upon what you saw. “No you did not.”

“Oh, but I did.” Bucky said proudly. “A little souvenir of our sexual awakening.”

“Oh my god.” The shock of it rendered you speechless.

“I know, right? Now you have the photos you wanted.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. Looking back at your boyfriend, you shook your head. “I wish I could tell you off.”

“You can tell me I’m a bad boy later,” he suggested with a wink. “For now let's get outta here.”

Once he gently placed you down, making sure you were steady on your feet, the two of you sorted yourselves; tidying the mess of your sex hair and straightening the wrinkles out of your clothes. Bucky made sure to pocket your panties from the floor, leaving no evidence of your fun.

“Come on, you.” He lightly slapped your ass before ripping the curtain open. “We’ve still got some shopping to do.” He stepped out, whistling to himself like he hadn’t just fucked you senseless and held his hand out for you to take.

“You want to go shopping while your cum is literally leaking down my legs as we speak?” you hissed as heat crept up your neck from the thought.

Bucky leaned his shoulder against the booth and smirked. “Well, we do have to buy you some new underwear. Remember, doll?”

You so desperately wanted to smack the self-satisfied grin off his face. “You wait until we get home, you little shit.”

An excited gleam twinkled in his eyes. “Can’t fuckin’ wait, baby.”

With a huff, you exited the photobooth, begrudgingly sliding your hand into Bucky’s. Before you left to continue your shopping, however, he plucked the Polaroids from the outside dispenser.

Your boyfriend admired the photos, each one a debauched image of you with heavy, hooded eyes with your mouth hung open on a scream.

“You look good on camera, baby.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “We should make a film next.”

Trying to clench your thighs together to keep his cum from dripping down your leg, you swatted his arm. “Pfft—you wish, big boy.”

But Bucky smirked, a wickedness in his expression. “I’m sure I’ll be able to persuade you somehow.”

Author’s Note: There may be huge potential for a part two 🫣

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot

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leclerc-hs · 2 months

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can't get you outta my head - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader (friends to lovers!) summary: in which you and charles are in the same friend group and find solace in one another OR you and charles fuck and can’t forget about it warnings: smut under the cut! oral (f-receiving!), outdoor sex, p in v, angst, pining, badly translated french (pls correct me), NOT PROOFREAD word count: 5.4k! (lengthy) author’s note: IN HONOR OF HITTING 1,600 FOLLOWERS I AM POSTING THIS TODAY!!!! double-postings today!!! i wrote this SOOO fast so sorry if there’s any mistakes. loved writing it tho and i know i was going to make it more enemies originally but making him softer and cutesy just felt right for now. i can always do another one if you guys want!! just let me know what you think! love hearing from you guys!!! xoxo

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BENEATH THE BRILLIANT canopy of the sun’s golden embrace, you recline comfortably upon the plush cushions of the lounge chairs, creating a sanctuary of comfort amidst the vast expanse of sand. Around you, a kaleidoscope of colors and textures unfold: vibrant beach towels strewn around carelessly, the glistening ocean stretching endlessly before you, and the verdant palm trees swaying in rhythmic cadence against the bright blue sky.

The sound of the ocean’s embrace upon the sandy shoreline murmurs in the background, a subtle undercurrent beneath the symphony of voices of your friends that fills the air. Your gaze drifts towards a cluster of your friends cavorting in the embrace of the water. Their figures, silhouetted against the shimmering expanse of the ocean, exude a carefree vitality. Like playful spirits unleashed, they tumble and wrestle amidst the crash of the waves, their laughter echoing.

You smile softly listening to a few of the girl’s banter over last night’s drunken escapades, flipping a page of the cheap magazine you purchased earlier.

“Joris a pratiquement mange de la merde hier soir.” Joris practically ate shit last night. Your best friend, also Joris’s girlfriend, to the left of you says in between laughter, as you all careen over with a laugh.

“Au moins, il va bien.” At least he’s fine. You say with a soft smile, turning another page of your magazine. “Can we talk about Antoine shooting a firecracker out of his ass?” The words spark an immediate eruption of laughter, tears threaten to fall from your eyes from the sheer hilarity of the memory.

“Qu’est-ce qui est si drôle?” What’s so funny?

You turn your head and find yourself locking eyes with a pair of captivating green. In that moment, your heart skips a small beat, and a soft smile graces your lips as you gaze warmly at him. “Making fun of Joris and Antoine, bien sûr.” Of course.

A smile plays at the corner of his pink lips, and you can’t help but envy their perfect hue. You can’t help but notice the subtle dimples that grace Charles’ cheeks as he smiles. Did he always have those? With a casual grace, he raises a hand to scratch the side of his stubble before reaching for a towel casually draped over your lounge chair. As he leans over, droplets of water cascade onto your warm skin, a gentle reminder of the ocean’s embrace. You steal a moment to admire the bronzed glow of his skin, the sunlight dancing upon the small beads of water that cling to his sculpted muscles with a tantalizing allure.

A peculiar aura envelops the relationship between you and Charles. You didn’t speak often, although you were in the same friend group, and have known each other for forever. However, in the recent weeks, a shift has occurred. Perhaps it’s the shared experience of a newfound singleness has drawn you closer together, prompting conversations to flow more freely than ever before.

A delicate blush creeps onto your cheeks, a fleeting flush of warmth that you hope goes unnoticed against the backdrop of your sun-kissed skin. You feel a jolt of electricity shoot through you as Charles’s fingers brush lightly against your shoulders while the grabs the towel, igniting a subtle spark between you two.

“Allons-nous au club ce soir?” Are we going to the club tonight? One of your guy friends asks, sinking onto a sandy towel with a groan as he collapses onto the soft grains.

For a moment, maybe a few seconds, silence hangs in the air. As if each person is lost in contemplation, weighing the prospect of the evening’s plans. Then, in a synchronous chorus, a resounding chorus of “yes” erupts from the group, breaking the silence with unanimous enthusiasm.

You remain silent, immersed in the pages of a trash magazine, each turn revealing scandalous tales that undoubtedly blur the lines between fact and fiction. Charles watches you intently from his position in the beach chair across from you, though not directly opposite. Positioned slightly to the right, his gaze lingers on you with a subtle curiosity, his expression betraying a hint of contemplation as he observes you amidst the circle of friends. Always in your own world.

“Lovie, tu participes?” Are you in? Your best friend beside you seems to notice your lack of response. Her arms stretch across the gap between your chairs, and she gently squeezes your wrist, a silent gesture of reassurance and solidarity.

Lovie. You don’t exactly know why you got that nickname, but it stuck. And it carried over to most of the friend group calling you that since childhood.

You lifted your head up, the sun beading down on you causing your eyes to slightly crinkle, as you gave her a look that said duh!

Your friends smile widens as she claps her hands together, her excitement palpable as she sits up from her previously relaxed position. Her enthusiasm is infectious, casting a warm glow over the group as they all eagerly cheer in happiness with her. “Mon dieu!” Thank God! It was a squeal of relief. “Maybe you’ll meet a sexy man and fall in love and have his babies so you can forget all about that loser.”

Your heart clenches at the mere mention of your ex. The smile on your lip’s falters just slightly, but you quickly regain composure, determined not to show a hint of sadness surface while on vacation with your friends. With a subtle effort, you smooth away the brief flicker of vulnerability, masking it beneath a façade of cheerful resilience.

You roll your eyes, “Nous verrons.” We’ll see. Your tone carries a hint of mystery as you look back into your magazine, letting the conversation of your friends flow into a different direction.

“Es-tu sûre que tu devrais en prendre unautre?” Are you sure you should have another? Joris says into your ear, making sure you’re able to hear him over the pulse of the music, his arm slung over the back of the booth behind you. You lean into his body, a drunken smile pulled on your lips.

He harbored a slight concern for you. While you were his girlfriend’s best friend, your friendship dated back to childhood, long before his relationship with her, and he held you in high regard. His care for you ran deep, and ever since your break-up, he knows that you haven’t been the same.

“Arrête de t’inquiéter pour moi.” Stop worrying about me. You shove his shoulder gently, before pointing to your best friend on the dance floor. “Inquiéte-toi pour elle.” Worry about her.

You let out a soft laugh as you witness Joris’s eyes widen in surprise at the sight of his girlfriend standing on the stage. With a knowing smile, you begin to slide out of the booth with intent to make your way to the bar, sensing the need for a fresh drink to accompany the unfolding spectacle.

Before you can even slide out of the booth, a fresh drink—scratch that, a refill of your drink, is placed in front of you. Your gaze follows the masculine hand holding the glass, adorned with an expensive watch at the wrist, tracing its path up the arm until your gaze meets Charles’ intense stare. His eyes, dark and captivating, lock onto yours, already filled with questions and a silent understanding.

You slide back over, silently signaling him to sit beside you. As he eases into the spot beside you, the proximity of his body sends a shiver down your spin, the heat radiating from him igniting a primal longing within you. Your bare skin tingles with anticipation as his presence fills the air with an electric charge, a silent dance of desire playing out between you in the dimly lit confines of the booth.

In the midst of the pulsating club music, words between you two remained scarce. Yet, you both found solace in the quiet companionship that enveloped you both. The energy of the club swirled around you, but the warmth of each other’s presence, you felt a profound sense of ease settle, much like a comforting blanket.

It wasn’t unnoticeable to the rest of the friend group. In fact, it was very noticeable. The way you and Charles seemed to find a connection with one another, especially post break-ups.

It’s not that you were never friends, you just were never as close. So it came as a slight surprise to a few of your friends as they picked up the little changes that were made.

Like when Charles refills your drinks for you. Or when he notices that there is coconut in your meal, which you’re very allergic to, and sends it back to the kitchen.

Like when you remind him to put on sunscreen, knowing he tends to burn easily. Or when you find yourselves sitting out by the fire at night, long after everyone went to sleep, just talking about the most random things.

“The CGI in that movie was terrible!”

“It’s a classic! You can’t hate a classic!”

“That doesn’t make the CGI better!”

“I’ll have you know I’m a culinary expert.”

“Charles, I’ve known you for forever. Don’t lie!”

“I’m an innovator! Who else could turn pasta into charcoal with such ease?”

No matter the topic at hand, you and Charles always found yourselves engulfed in laughter, the gentle sound filling the air with warmth and camaraderie.

You didn’t want sadness to cloud your vacation, but sometimes emotions have a way of washing over you like relentless waves. One of the evenings, while your friends made plans to dine out, you made the wise choice to stay in. Although you didn’t want to miss out, you felt that you were not in the right mindset to be out with everyone. Some protested your decision, expressing concern, but you assured them that you would be fine on your own and ready to party it up all day tomorrow.

Charles shot you a funny look as he slid his hands into one of his pockets, leaning casually against the kitchen archway. His white linen shirt, barely buttoned and snug against his muscles, accentuated his tan, making it seem even more vibrant against the stark contrast of the fabric. A single glance from him stirred a whirlwind of emotions within you as you perched on the bar-stool chair, clad in nothing but a tiny pair of sleep shorts and a well-worn t-shirt. It was your ex-boyfriend’s shirt, a garment you should have long discarded, but its comfort proved too irresistible to part with. Despite the pang of guilt that tugged at your conscience, you found solace in its familiar embrace, a reminder of the past you couldn’t quite let go of yet.

The villa you currently stayed in was beautiful. Its whitewashed walls and wrought-iron accents blended modern and luxury all in one. Inside, the warm glow of the setting sunbathed the spacious rooms, casting an ethereal orange hue over the abundance of white and wood-colored furniture. As the click of the front door echoed through the villa, the chatter of your friends faded into near silence as they departed for dinner, leaving you alone in complete silence.

You find yourself eventually nestled in the corner of the oversized couch, cocooned in the warmth of a fluffy blanket draped over your body. With the television remote in hand, you flip through the channels, searching for something to capture your interest. Nothing quite grabs your attention, until you stumble upon a cheesy rom-com you’ve seen hundreds of times.

Lost in a trance, you’re oblivious to the world around you, the gentle breeze whispering through the open windows. The creak of the front door opening barely registers, and it’s only when Charles’ silhouette materializes in the archway beside the TV that you snap back to reality. A soft smile tugs at the corners of Charles’ lips as he gazes upon you, nestled comfortably on the couch, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth. His heart skips a beat at the sight of you, at the sight of your eyes looking at him with such softness.

“Que fais-tu de retour?” What are you doing back?

He shrugs nonchalantly, pushing off from the wall’s archway and making his way toward you. With an easy grace, he plops down beside you, propping one leg up on another couch cushion and allowing his shoulder and head to half-lean against you.

You both settle in a comfortable silence, the sound of the movie filling the air around you with a comforting ambiance.

“Penses-tu jamais que tu le surpasseras?” Do you ever think you’ll get over him?

The words send your stomach into a frenzy of somersaults, and a tightness forms in your throat, making it difficult to swallow.

You don’t answer immediately, instead you stare ahead at the television, your fingers fumbling with the fabric of the blanket nervously.

“Je l’espère.” I hope so.

His eyes are solemn as you look at him. “Parfois,” Sometimes. He begins, straightening his posture so he can fully look at you. “I think I’ll never get over her.”

His words hang heavily in the air, and though they sting a bit, you understand. You share the same sentiment.

“Mais toi,” But you. His hand reaches to yours, the one fumbling with your thigh. His eyes dart between both of yours, like he’s struggling to formulate his next words. “You just,” He starts before squeezing your hand in his. “You just make my days feel easier.”

You nod slowly, knowing exactly what he’s trying to say. “My pain, my heartache, just disappears whenever I’m with you.” Your voice is soft as you speak the words. The truth of them daunting.

“Sometimes I just wish I could turn my emotions off.” You say, unwrapping the blanket from your body, so that it only sits underneath you now. “Like I could just fuck someone and move on.”

Charles’ eyes widen slightly as the word ‘fuck’ slips past your lips. He nearly lets out an audible groan, his eyes tracing the contours of your collarbones peeking out from the oversized shirt that slips tantalizingly of your shoulder.

He licks his lips, swallowing a pronounced gulp, as his eyes trail back to your face.

“Yeah.”

You could feel the tension in the air, like the both of you were considering fucking each other here and now. Charles couldn’t escape the thoughts of spreading you out on the cushions right here, spreading your legs and fucking you with his tongue.

As he locks eyes with you, you feel a flutter in your stomach, your thighs clenching involuntarily as his gaze lingers on your lips. You part your lips to speak, but before you can utter another word, a loud burst of commotion erupts through the front door. No doubt your drunken friends, clamoring for the fire pit.

You and Charles find yourselves in an awkward dance since then. Not too awkward, but the idea of you fucking each other escaped neither of your minds.

It was honestly twisted. The fact that Charles couldn’t stop picturing what you would look like beneath him, what your moans would sound like in his ear. He had fucked his fist twice to the though of you since he even heard the word ‘fuck’ slip past your lips on the couch the other night. It was honestly pathetic.

You couldn’t handle it either it seems. You found your eyes lingering on Charles way longer than necessary. The flex of his muscles as he enjoys a morning workout by the villa’s pool, the small smiles he gives you from across the room, and the small touches he gives as he walks by you has you driving yourself up a fucking wall.

So, when your friends decide to head out for a spa day, you and Charles hang back sitting across from one another a tad too far apart on the outdoor couch for it to be normal. It was as if you needed the space to stop from jumping each other’s bones.

The skimpy red bikini you wore did little to ease Charles’ thoughts. But he couldn’t help but feel grateful for the first time in weeks he isn’t thinking about his ex-girlfriend. No, he’s too engrossed in the idea of fucking you. Hearing your sweet little moans he just knows you would have. Feeling your smooth skin beneath the pads of his fingertips.

Charles could feel himself harden just by glancing at you lounging comfortably on the outdoor couch, the clouds covering the sun engulfing you guys in a moment of shade.

Across the couch from him, you tried to do everything but acknowledge Charles’ longing stare. But you couldn’t. Your body was all tense, in need of a release.

“Charles, will you—”

Before you could even finish the sentence, Charles was standing over your figure on the couch. His hardened cock visibly noticeable in his short swimsuit. The muscles of his thighs flexed before you, as he visibly gulped at the vision of your breasts spilling out of the top.

“Assieds-toi droit.” Sit up. He murmurs softly, his voice carrying a gentle command as he shifts, prompting you to straighten your posture.

Was this really about to happen? You really hoped so.

It was as if Charles can see the desire in your eyes, answering the question of if you wanted this in his head almost instantly.

“Est-ce que je peux t’embrasser?” Can I kiss you? His thumb toyed with your bottom lip, tracing it as he licked his own.

You nodded your head before his lips pressed down onto yours, capturing them in a sweet embrace. His fingers tangled in your hair, gripping it firmly near your scalp as he deepened the kiss, igniting a surge of warmth and longing between you.

A soft moan escapes your lips as he slips his tongue into your mouth, pressing it hotly against yours. He pulls away for a moment, still standing above your sitting figure, as he takes in your blown out pupils.

“Ça a un gout si doux.” Tastes so sweet. His hand remains in your hair, holding your head in place to look at him. His eyes stare at your sightly swollen lips, a clench of need forming in the pit of his stomach.

He falls to his knees before you on the couch, kneeling between your two legs, as his other hand presses against your chest, forcing you to lean back against the cushions of the couch. The sun peeped through the clouds momentarily, allowing you to drink in the sight of just how light his eyes were.

His thumb grazes your bikini cladded core, rubbing light circles in a teasing manner. The pressure of his thumb wasn’t enough, but it was everything you needed.

He looked at you from between your legs, a smirk on his face like he knew just how crazy he was driving you. It was an image you never wanted to forget.

“Touch me.” You begged, a breathy moan leaving your lips as his thumb pressed harder onto your swollen clit.

It was all he needed to hear before sliding your bikini bottoms to the side and shoving his tongue to where you needed him most. The cool air of the outdoors was a stark contrast to the heat you felt between your legs.

He took his time with you, like he wanted to savor every sweet moan you gave him. His tongue flicked around your clit a few times, before wrapping his lips around it. Your hand slid into his brown locks, slightly lightened form the sun over vacation, and pulled as you rutted your hips against his face.

“Mm, that’s it,” He groaned into your cunt, his words vibrating against you, sending your hips into a faster frenzy. He slipped two fingers into you, lifting his head to watch as you lulled your head back against the cushion and took your hands from his head to your breasts. You stretched the bikini top slightly, until your breasts spilled over the tiny triangles, your nipples already hardened from the need that burned within you.

Charles slipped one hand up to your breasts, taking one of your nipples in between his thumb and forefinger and pinching.

“M’god,” You half-shouted, biting your lip to prevent yourself for being too loud.

“Don’t deprive me from your sweet little moans, yeah?” He pulled his lips off your clit for a few seconds, giving you ample time to look at them glistening in you. You nearly came at the sight of it.

He dropped his head back between your legs, flicking fast kitten licks to your clit, which had you careening forward with a cry of pleasure.

He sucked hard on your clit, eliciting loud mewls from you that were like a sweet melody to his ears. Charles could feel his cock straining against the tightness of his swim suit, he flexed his hips into the couch before him, in need of some sort of relief.

He could feel you teetering on the edge of your orgasm, shoving his face deeper into you, his tongue slipping in and out of you at a fervent pace. It hit you hard. Your hips had a mind of their own, as they rode his face, the bony structure of his nose pressing against your clit sending you into a frenzy.

Charles replaced his tongue with his fingers and watched as you came down from your high. His fingers still working you over as he coaxed you through your orgasm, not letting up.

“I knew you would taste like heaven,” He smirks, finally removing his fingers, before slipping them into his mouth, and moaning at the taste of you on his tongue.

You groaned, your pupils blown out as you looked at him, your legs still spread and cunt fully exposed to him and the outside air.

“Need more,” You practically begged.

“Need my cock, hm?” You nodded, wasted no time in answering. He pushed himself up from his knees, sitting beside you on the couch as he pushed his swimsuit down enough to free his cock. It was hot and heavy in your hands as you reached for it, precum already dripping from its tip.

You straddled his waist, raising up just enough for him to slip his cock into your already saturated core. Your hands grip the back of the couch behind Charles’ head, your fingers clenching it tightly as you take in each inch of him. His hands grip your waist, large fingers sprayed across as he guides your movements over his cock.

The squeeze of your cunt on his cock was better than Charles could ever imagine. The fact that he had to use his fist before you was honestly a punishment compared to this.

“Mon dieu,” My God. You groan as his cock stretches your walls. You waste no time in working yourself over his cock, the pleasure of it too good for you to do it slow. You chased that second orgasm as it teetered on the edge. You were already so close.

“That close already?” His smirk was permanent on his face as he flexed his hips up into you, hitting you deeper than before.

You nodded, soft mewls escaping your lips constantly. It was as if you couldn’t shut up now. His hands grip your hair tightly, pulling your head back to look up at the sky, as he pulls one of your hardened nipples in between his teeth.

You didn’t have time to tell him you were coming again, but the clench of your walls on his cock was enough of a warning for him. Your walls fluttered around him repeatedly, as his name fell softly from your lips followed with a string of curses.

As if he couldn’t hold back his orgasm any longer, he lifted you up off him and placed you to the side, his hot cum spilling over his cock and stomach in stringy spurts. Your body was limp against the cushion, your bathing suit covering nothing.

Still hazy from your climax, you look from the blue cloudy sky to Charles beside you. His eyes were glossy as he smiled, like he was fully content.

“Merci,” Thank you. You said softly, an acknowledgment for him giving you what you mentioned the other night.

He nodded once, giving a small smile as if to say thank you back.

It’s been weeks since you and Charles fucked on the outdoor couch of the vacation villa. You haven’t seen each other much since, not that you expected it. You were thankful it helped you forget about your ex-boyfriend just a little bit more. Like you could bare the idea of meeting other men. Which you were.

You claimed that Charles was a one-time thing. Although it was probably the best sex you’ve ever had, you knew you couldn’t do it again. It was a mutual one-time thing.

So, when you found yourself pressed against the bathroom door of the five-star restaurant, your short little sundress bunched up at your waist, and Charles’ cock buried deep in your cunt, it was a little unexpected. Not completely.

It was hard and quick, nothing but a string of breathy moans between you two as he pressed your chest forward into the door. You both came quickly, your chest flushed red and his cheeks slightly pink as if he just performed a hard workout.

“Who’s your date?” He asks, the words slip out fast, like he’s trying to act like he doesn’t care.

You furrow your eyebrow for a second, before looking at yourself in the mirror, Charles standing tall behind your figure. “Just met him last night,” You flattened your hair as much as you could to make it seem normal. “I’m trying to get back out there.”

Charles smiles at you, although it seems slightly pained. “Good. Your ex-boyfriend didn’t deserve you.” His words were kind, and it made you smile that he even bothered to say it.

“I should get back,” You begin, turning to face him. His eyes look at your lips one last time, like he’s contemplating kissing you again. “I’ll see you next week at Joris’s, right?”

He gave you a small nod.

Charles Leclerc is a liar.

Well, a liar when it comes to him saying he doesn’t think about you sexually. The way you feel around his cock. The way your breathy moans turn him on to no end. The way your breasts bounced with each thrust of his cock. The taste of your cunt on his lips.

He’s a liar if he says he doesn’t fuck his fist almost every night to the thought of you.

But he was also a liar when it comes to him saying he doesn’t think about you not sexually. The way you loved to read trashy magazines, the way you always fidgeted with the rings on your fingers when you were nervous, the way your eyes glowed whenever you laughed.

So, when Joris mentions you and a new potential boyfriend, he can’t help but feel slightly annoyed at the idea. The clench of Charles’ jaw at the sight of you and this ‘potential boyfriend’ across the yard at baby shower, does not slip past Joris’s eyesight.

“Y a-t-il quelque chose entre vous deux?” Is there something between you two?

Charles clutches the neck of the beer bottle in his fingers, bringing it to his lips, before straying his eyes from you to Joris beside him.

Charles’ eyes gleamed like he didn’t know how to answer this without admitting feelings he hasn’t even admitted to himself. He shook his head. No. Because there wasn’t.

“Vous étiez proches en vacances.” You guys were close on vacation.

It was just a statement, as if he wanted to see Charles’ reaction. Charles didn’t know if Joris was trying to insinuate anything, but Charles didn’t respond. Not as Joris’s girlfriend, your best friend, popped up behind you both, a tray of cupcakes in her hand.

You sat across the yard, deep in conversation with Theo, at one of the many heavily decorated picnic tables. The short purple sundress that adorned your body is a vision of effortless elegance. Delicate straps grace the shoulders, framing your breasts with a feminine charm. The skirt flows gently with every movement, swaying gracefully in the warm breeze.

You both knew it wasn’t anything serious, at least yet, but he had a way of making you smile, nonetheless. Despite only knowing each other for a few weeks and sharing a handful of dates, he made a point to take his time with you. He was considerate, never pressuring you into anything, especially after you had confided in him about your previous messy relationship one night.

“Tu es belle.” You’re beautiful. Theo whispered into your ear, his fingers toying with the fabric at the ends of your dress, resting right above your knees.

You blushed, your cheeks flaring a light shade of red, as you smiled into your lap. You lifted your head slightly, looking across the yard, where your eyes met with Charles. His eyes already watching you with such heat in his eyes it made your stomach do a somersault.

He felt an intense surge of resentment towards the guy who dared to lay his hands on you, his anger boiling as he watched him lean into whisper into your ear. Your cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of crimson under his gaze, betraying the effect of his words. What could he possibly be saying to you?

It was just his cock you were coming around last week. So, why is this fiery sense of jealousy threatening to consume him entirely?

It didn’t make sense. How could he feel such intense jealousy over someone he never even had a real relationship with? He never even felt this jealous over his ex-girlfriend.

It was just sex.

He told himself repeatedly. It was just sex. But it only made the burn in his chest only grow more.

You were a liar if you said that Charles Leclerc is never on your mind. You were a liar if you said that it was just sex.

Because, for some inexplicable reason, you can’t seem to get Charles Leclerc out of your mind. You remember how he made sure none of your dishes contained coconut, how he bought you those trashy magazines he knew you loved so much, and how he always made sure that you were smiling.

So, when Charles Leclerc stood silhouetted in the doorway of your front door, the moonlight casting a soft glow around him in the middle of the night, you couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat.

You took note of his hair in disarray, as if he had run his hands through it a dozen times, and the soft grey sweats that hung loosely on his hips. The taut muscles of his arms peeked out against the seams of the black t-shirt he wore.

“Je n’arrête pas de penser à toi.” I can’t stop thinking about you. He utters the words with a look of anguish etched on his face, each step carefully navigating around your figure as he stands in the foyer of your apartment, a space he’s been in countless times over the years. But never alone. Never without friends.

You close the door and turn to look at him, not realizing just how close he was to you. “It’s like you,” he begins but freezes, taking a step closer toward you. You take a step back, the tight tank top you wore did little to hide your hardened nipples from the cold air, and your back hit the front door. “It’s like you possess every thought I have. Every single thought. You. You. You.”

You sucked in a breath as you looked into his eyes, more darkened than normal, almost as if he was angry at you.

“Qu’est-ce que tu m’as fait?” What did you do to me? His fingers trail up your arm to your collarbones, a trail of goosebumps following in their wake.

You gulp audibly, your lips slightly parted from the feel of his fingertips on your skin for the first time in weeks. You struggle to find the words until Charles is pleading.

He laughs slightly sarcastic, like he can’t believe this is happening to him. “I even bought those trashy magazines that you like so much, a whole stack of them at my place, because I cannot get you out of my fucking head.”

“Dit moi, it’s not just me.” Tell me.

You would be a liar if you said it’s just him. Your hands trail up to his shoulder, your fingers squeezing them in comfort as you stare into his eyes. His breaths getting heavier as your fingers trail his t-shirt classes skin, like he was yearning for it so much, like it burned him.

“It’s not just you.”

He doesn’t give you time to say much more, not until his lips are crashing down onto yours again. Like he couldn’t last one more second without your lips pressed to his.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine

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akela-nakamura · 9 months

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DPxDC Prompt

Summoning is an imperfect art, mispronouncing a name or having an incorrect symbol can lead to unexpected, and sometimes explosive results. Summoning can open unexpected doors. No one's prepared for what--or who--steps through when a rising gang tries to summon backup.

My little ficlet for this is below the cut:

Smoke. The acrid slam of it in the nose, brought on by the screaming wind. Chanting. A chorus of voices, steady and thrumming. Pain. Everything is hazy, and it’s equal odds on it being from the smoke or the potential head injury.

Bruce stumbles to his feet, body throbbing.

This was not how he’d planned this night.

Of course, he hadn’t planned for Gotham to suddenly be overrun with a new…gang? They claimed to be a government organization, but Bruce has his doubts. He hadn’t had a chance to go through the GIW’s information, but according to Barbara, their claims were sketchy at best.

The shouting about ghosts and waving around sci-fi weapons with no trigger discipline certainly didn’t help their claims.

Government organization or not, they had no right to raid homes, to drag people out onto the street, or overall threaten his city.

His ears ring, and the chanting rises in volume, impossibly. His chest reverbes with the sound. It’s steady enough to feel like a second heart. His blurry vision locks onto the center of the summoning circle. Because this night couldn’t get any worse, of course.

First the GIW had rocketed up his list of threats with one simple move.

They’d gone after Jason.

Jason, who even now was laid out in the middle of the summoning circle, eyes bright, bright, bright green through the haze.

First they’d taken his son.

Then they’d used him as a sacrifice.

Bruce bared his teeth, locking eyes with the closest GIW agent. The man held up his weapon, a glowing baton. His form is weak.

The baton gord flying, Bruce’s armored elbow slamming the man to the ground. The agent curls up, groaning. Nightwing’s escrima sing electric in the background, followed by the whip of Tim’s bow staff. Damian’s sword glints through the haze, and purple flashes through the crowd of white, white, white.

He can’t see Cass, but he doesn’t expect too.

The ground rocks under his feet, and it takes several precious seconds to regain his balance. There seems to be an almost endless flood of agents, with more and more meeting his fists as he tries to make it through the gauntlet.

Suddenly, the air shifts, the scream of it heading for the circle instead of out.

The circle glows toxic green, and Jason’s at the center, frozen in the light.

“No!” Bruce shouts, the sound ripping from his soul.

It’s echoed by Dick, who stands just outside the circle’s boundaries. His hands are pressed against the light, his blue eyes a shock against the green.

It’s a confusion of people - GIW white and the summoner’s black. The GIW is here to end whatever it is they need Jason to summon to them. The summoners themselves seem to have broken away from the “agency” and want power from the being they’re calling. It’s a fight on multiple fronts, with the GIW fighting the summoners and Bruce and his family fighting them all.

The temperature drops.

“HOOD!” Dick screams, as Jason is swallowed by the green.

The chant is all he can hear, even as he shoves towards the circle, even as he slams against the same wall Dick’s against.

The world goes bright and he can’t keep his eyes on Jason. On his son.

When the light fades, Jason’s not alone.

A being sits six feet in the air, Jason collapsed over his lap, somehow hovering with the - what is he? He looks human, but there’s something wrong. Off. Bruce can’t quite pinpoint his age. A crown glows on his head, an ever shifting cape spills down his back, dragging close to the floor. His eyes are green as Lazarus, and just as deep. Jason is breathing, Bruce notes. The being’s hands curl in Jason’s hair, playing with it idly.

The air is *rigid, and everyone’s stopped fighting. No one can draw their eyes away from the being.

“You dare to summon me with one of my own?” The being speaks, and it’s like crackling glaciers. Someone whimpers.

“We - wanted to give you a gift,” One of the men in black says, his voice chattering.

It’s like breathing in ice.

“A gift?” The being says and the sound is fury, banked in a waiting avalanche. “What kind of gift is this? A denizen of my Realms, trapped and tortured? Used to summon his king, against his will? This is no gift.”

“B-but we didn’t know,” another speaks, and then obviously realizes he shouldn’t have.

“Ignorance will not save you,” the being says, and it - he’s? - still holding Jason like he’s something precious. “And I am not the only one you have infuriated.

“I am not the only one you have awoken.”

To a man, the GIW agents cry out in panic. Bruce turns, looking for the threat but - the agents are buried to various depths in the cracked concrete floor. The ground is decidedly solid beneath Bruce’s feet but the agents would obviously not agree. They flounder, like the concrete is quicksand. The summoners are next, but it’s ice that gets them, crawling up their bodies until they’re locked into place.

“My lord!” One cries and promptly finds himself gagged.

Bruce can’t stay silent any longer. “Hood was used against his will to summon you,” he starts. The being’s eyes meet Bruce’s. “He didn’t want this. Is he alright?”

“Your son is fine,” the voice is rough, but feminine, and obviously not from the being. It’s around him, dancing through the steel beams and pushing through concrete. “You are mine, my knight. You and yours are mine. The little king will not harm him, nor you.” A figure forms off to his right.

“Holy shit,” Dick whispers. Bruce has to agree.

She’s made of concrete, of broken brick and dust, of bone and police tape, of twisted metal and more.

“Gotham,” Bruce breathes, and he doesn’t know how he knows but he does.

“Hello, my knight,” she says, her form shifting. She turns slightly, and there’s something sharp in her movement. “Hello, little king.”

“Lady Gotham,” The being - the king? - returns. “You look well,”

Lady Gotham laughs, a ringing sound - it’s bells and gravel, fresh air on a summer day and rising wind. “How you flatter me, little king. Do you fear me?”

The being grins, mischief dancing around him, white hair floating high. “I respect you. It’s good to see you awake, Milady.”

“What is happening?” Tim asks no one in particular. Dick shrugs and Steph just leans harder on Tim. Cass holds Damian’s shoulder firmly, watching carefully.

Bruce wishes he had an answer.

“It is good to be awake,” Lady Gotham says, and she shifts closer to the circle, fingers skimming against the barrier of light. “How long do you intend to keep my reaper from me?”

Reaper. Bruce thinks, and it’s a gut punch.

It makes sense, to describe Jason. Jason can go where Bruce cannot, do what Bruce cannot.

The king laughs lightly. “The summoning harmed him, Milady. I’m just keeping him safe. I’m not here to undermine you,” the king’s eyes glow. “But remember who is king.”

Lady Gotham smiles. “I’m aware of hierarchy little king.”

“My son,” Bruce says, because there’s no point in pretending Jason is anything less. He’s talking to - the embodiment of gotham and a king of - something. “He’ll be okay?”

Lady Gotham sighs. “He will be fine, my knight. The little king cares for his own.”

“What - what are you the king of?” Tim asks, bold.

The being smiles.

“I am Phantom,” he says. “I am the Ghost King.”

Jason stirs in his lap, and the implications crash over Bruce. Maybe Reaper has more meaning than he’d thought.

#DPxDC #Akela's Antics #Prompts #Ficlets #Crossover #DP x DC

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evielmostdefinitely · 6 months

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scorned earth |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: the last stop on your honeymoon tour of the districts, leaves coriolanus to show you parts of his past, making new memories with you. based off this ask from the other day :)

contains: smut 18+. dark!possessive!coriolanus. mentions of corio's past. dom/sub dynamics. skinny dipping, semi-public sex. pinvsex. mean-ish!coriolanus.

“Where are you taking me?” You looked around at the tall trees, the sun peaking through the branches onto the moss covered ground. Your hand in Coriolanus’, fingers intertwined, letting him lead you through the thicket of trees.

“It’s a surprise, my love. I told you.” Coryo’s eyes were bright, daring with excitement. Turning back to look at you over his shoulder, the sun caught in his baby blues, making your heart skip. “You trust me, don’t you?”

You melted at his words, smiling softly. “Of course, I do.” You whispered, letting him tug you through the forest. “I-I’m just worried about snakes, or bears, or-”

“-I won’t let them hurt you.” Coryo smiled, squeezing your hand. The pistol resting on his hip offered some comfort to you. “That’s why I’m going first.”

You’d blame it on the warmth of the day, hot but breezy, as the reason you were so flustered at his words. The heat in your cheeks, tingling up your spine. District Twelve was the last stop on your tour, the last stop on your honeymoon. Coriolanus insisted on showing you around, to some of his favorite spots from his Peacekeeper days. After putting the town on a strict lockdown- you weren’t sure why he did it, but you didn't dare question it- he dragged you out here.

“This is…” You looked at the water, sparkling from sunlight, and the greenery all around it.

“Breathtaking isn’t it?” Coriolanus’ arms found your waist, chin tucking over your shoulder. The breeze fell between the two of you, fresh air, not smoggy or stuffy like the polluted city air of the Capitol.

“It is.” You nodded, hand sliding over his biceps, leaning back into his touch. “How’d you ever find this?”

Coriolanus paused for a moment, heart skipping a beat at the thought of her. He wouldn’t tell you about her, not now, at least, it was your honeymoon. “We used to come out here on our days off.” He said instead. It wasn’t a complete lie, he supposed.

“Stay in that cabin, sometimes, when it would rain.” Coriolanus pointed to the cabin, a little more worn than he remembered, a lot colder looking too.

You turned, smiling at the sight. “That’s… This is very nice.” You grinned, head tilting back to meet his gaze. You looked pretty like this, Coryo decided, under the bright District Twelve summer sun.

“Would you like to go swimming?” Coryo smiled, hand brushing over your hip, squeezing it gently.

“Swimming?” You giggled. “In what, Coryo? I didn’t pack any swimwear.”

“Do you think they have swimwear here?” Coriolanus scoffed lightly, shaking his head at you. “Just go in your undergarments.”

“Coryo.” You blushed, looking around like there might be others to overhear. It was so improper, you were surprised he even suggested it.

“Or just go without anything on.” Coryo rasped, his crotch grinding lightly into the fat of your ass. Your body jolted with electric heat, grabbing at his arms. “No one’s out here, darling. I won’t mind.” His breath was hot on the shell of your ear, leaving you shivering at the thought.

Your hands trembled lightly with excitement, pushing down the straps of your dress, gaze on Coriolanus. He grinned proudly as you stripped, your eyes on him so obediently- just as he trained you to be. You were bare, arms covering your most private parts, standing in front of him on the small dock.

Coriolanus followed, slinging off his slacks, his shirt, grinning at you with that familiar, wild look in his eyes. It made your heart flutter, his gaze animalistic, roaming all over your body.

“I’m going to throw you in.” Coriolanus growled playfully, though his eyes were primal.

“Don’t you dare, Coryo.” You pointed at him, walking back on the creaking dock. “Coriolanus Snow, I swear-”

Coryo lunged at you, laughing at how you shrilled, your scream bouncing off the trees, the mockingjays echoing it through the breeze. Your bare feet padding against the wood, ass jiggling with your run, taunting him. You skidded to a stop at the edge, whipping around to look over your shoulder. Coriolanus pacing towards you, arms reaching out for you, eyes narrowed with a primal sense that had you reaching your arms out in instinct.

“Coryo, no!” Your squealing pleas were cut short, his hands on your waist, slinging both your naked bodies into the lake water.

Cool water plunged around you, hands clawing at Coriolanus even under the murky water. You surfaced, a large gasp of a breath, hands hitting the rippling waters with a panicked fury. You could swim, sure, but not very well, especially not when you were thrown in unexpectedly.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Coriolanus hummed, hands pulling you into his wet chest, bobbling with you through the water. You crawled up his back, legs wrapping around his waist, hugging him tightly to you.

He could feel your heart beating on the back of his chest, your pebbled nipples from the cold water pressing to his back, making his cock lurch with lust.

“Don’t you dare let go of me.” You hissed, nails digging into his shoulder. “There’s no telling what’s in this water. I can’t even see the bottom.”

“Oh,” Coryo taunted, chin hooking over his shoulder to grin at you. “Might be a monster, hm? Might come up and bite you.” His fingers pinched the fat of your ass, you squealed in his ear, feet pushing up on his hips, dunking him slightly.

He sputtered, water, feet kicking steadily under the water to keep you both afloat, wiping the droplets out of his eyes. Your pouting face greeted him once his vision cleared, brows creased in a deep furrow. “That wasn’t funny.” You grumbled.

“Oh, don’t be pouty with me, darling. I was only teasing.” Coriolanus’ hands found your waist, pulling you around his body so you rested on his hips, legs still tight around him in a vice. “You know I wouldn’t let anything hurt you, petal.” He muttered, cupping your jaw gently.

It was a rare pet name, but by far your most beloved, which is why Coriolanus used it so sparingly. Only when he was especially in love, when he wanted you to know.

You ducked into his kiss, your own hands on the back of his head, pulling you closer and closer to him. His lips moving on yours, noses brushing, teeth gnashing in a positively sloppy makeout. It felt exhilarating to be doing this in public, showing such crude affection outdoors, even if no one else was around.

Coriolanus’ hand on your hip, squeezing gently, sliding under the water up your back to cup your breasts under the water. You giggled breathy into his kiss, legs tightening under the water. Coriolanus tipped you into the kiss, dunking you under the water accidentally.

You sputtered, coughed at the water invading your nose, glaring back at him. He grinned cheekily, squeezing the fat of your left ass cheek firmly under the water. “Maybe this isn’t the best idea.” He hummed. “Far easier in the bathtub, I’m finding out.”

You blushed, shoving his shoulder playfully. “So what then? On the banks? Like animals?”

Coriolanus’ eyes left your gaze, darkening at what he saw past you. You could see the change in them, that crossed over to something sinister and dark, it made your stomach flip with thrill, anticipation.

“No,” Coryo’s eyes met yours, lips curling in a sinister smile. “I have a better idea.”

“That’s it, that’s perfect, my love.” Coriolanus grunted, head tipping back into the hardwood of the floors.

The floorboards squeaked beneath you, with every rise and fall of your hips. Your hair was still damp, as was his, bodies still soft from the water that hadn’t been wiped away. His hands pawed at your breasts, squeezing them with every roll and rise, riding him in the small cabin.

His mind flooded with memories, memories of before, everytime he looked around. The dark day he didn’t want to remember, a dark time before you. Coriolanus felt guilty, thinking of her while you were on top of him- his wife. So he did what he could to keep his mind from wandering, pawing at your breasts, grabbing at the fat of your ass, but he swore- swore he could hear the mockingjays singing that same song over and over.

“Wait, just a- hold on, darling girl.” Coriolanus grunted, pressing on your hip to stop you.

“What?” You panted, chest rising and falling sharply. “What’s wrong?” You muttered, purely lust drunk, your eyes told him so.

Coryo smiled, cradling your jaw gently, pulling you to him. Your body folded over his, lips on his, kissing him passionately. Coriolanus flipped the two of you, rolling you lightly onto the wooden floor, the floorboards groaning at the shift. His hands cupped under your knees, pressing your thighs forward, letting you hook them over his shoulders while he bottomed out in you, smug at how your eyes rolled back.

“C-Coryo,” You whimpered at the sudden change of pace, his hips snapping and rolling into you sharply, cock spearing that spongy spot that had your eyes rolling back, mouth falling open dumbly.

Coriolanus’ pace didn’t stop, fucking you nearly barbarically, at a punishing pace. You hadn’t expected it, truthfully, he normally saved this type of sex for when you’d been bad, when you needed to get fucked like this. Maybe he needed it. Something about District Twelve had him off, but you didn’t pry.

“Look at me.” Coriolanus growled, hands pushing into your hips, fingertips curling so sharply you knew there would be bruises.

Your eyes fluttered open, glazed with ecstasy from every punctuating jab of his cock into you. “Who do you belong to?”

You were confused, mind dwindling away, thoughts following them. Coriolanus tapped your cheek lightly, hard enough to get your attention, eyes snapping obediently back to him. “Answer me.” Coryo repeated through gritted teeth, his pace not letting up, not once. “Who do you belong to?”

“Y-You.” You shuddered, body rolling with another wave of pleasure, thighs trembling around him.

“Say it again.” Coriolanus spat, reaching forwards, hand cupping your cheeks, squeezing them between his fingers so your lips puckered. “Who do you belong to?”

“You, Coryo, you. You- oh!- it’s only you. Only you.” You babbled, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes as your orgasm consumed you. He didn’t stop, squeezing tighter around your cheeks.

“You’re all mine. Mine. You belong to me, you got that? Not anyone else.” Coriolanus growled, his thrusts faster now, leaving you no time to recover. You whimpered at the sensation, the sensitivity.

“You’re never leaving me, either. You got that?” Coryo snarled. Your eyes had glazed, looking at the wood ceiling above him, half heartedly pushing at his arm.

Coriolanus’ hand pulled your chin back to him, stilling suddenly, still deep inside of you. “Look at me.” He sneered. Your eyes fluttered to him. “You’re not leaving me, ever.” He held your gaze, his wild eyed one peering back at you.

“Say it.” Coryo demanded. You whimpered, his hips pressing further into you, filling you more- you didn’t even know he still could, you felt so full already. “Say it!’

The sheer possessiveness, his tone, a chilling edge that had you shuddering. “I-I’m not going anywhere.” You whispered, voice caught around the lump in your throat. “I’m not going anywhere, Coryo, staying with you.”

“Forever?” Coryo hated how needy he sounded, but he doubted you noticed, not with the way your lip was trembling, eyes glazed.

“Forever.” You repeated, squeezing his wrist lightly. “Forever with you. Only you.”

Coriolanus dropped himself over you, face buried in the crook of his neck to breathe in your sweat soaked scent, rutting into you like a mutt in heat until he was spilling, presseed deep inside of you, milking his load into you.

The walk back to the train was much slower this time. You clung to Coryo, legs wobbly and unsure, his arms wrapped around your back. It was silent, the chirping of the birds, the breeze floating between the leaves, your only sound.

Coryo left you later that night, tucked into the bed, pressing a kiss to your head. You didn’t pry as to where he was going, and he was grateful for that. You didn’t ask why he smelled of smoke when he came back, why he was just as ravenous as before, which he was even more thankful for.

As Coriolanus left you, meeting with the General over the Peacekeepers, leading them back through the thicket, he thought of her. Her smug grin, her in his mother’s shawl, how she’d just left it- left him. He thought he’d never recover after Lucy Gray. Then he met you. How you treasured every gift, only looked at him, craved him the way he did you.

You wore his mother’s ring with pride, and he knew she’d be pleased with you.

Which is why he had to kill all of his past before you.

Kill the woman who wrecked him, the girl who took his heart and shredded it, made it jagged for your hold.

And as the cabin burned, scorched under the starry night sky, Coriolanus was pleased knowing his last memories of the cabin were with you instead of her.

Knowing that part of him was ash like the wooden cabin was now, soot mixed with the soil of District Twelve.

Coriolanus returned back to you, holding you as close as he could in his arms, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. You were his, and he was yours. Now until forever.

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nkogneatho · 7 months

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𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌

—cw: soft dom + bold!choso, fem!reader, blood, a little graphic, creampie, hints of exhibitionism, nickname(angel) nasty, messy, oh and choso slaps your coochie.

—a/n: eat up you chosito whores

watching choso being agitated was probably your favorite thing ever. despite his unnatural and mysterious aura, he wasn't hesitant to showcase the emotions inside him. Especially, when he was irritated. His brows drew together, eyes curtained with dark emotions. His right side soaked in blood, the art he was known for.

but despite all of the anger, he was anything but mean to you. he could never. you were his precious baby.

"Are you sure, angel? I'm still soaked in blood," he asked.

"mhm...need you. please, choso."

those words made his lips extend into a smile. choso lifted your hips up, pulling in the nearest pillow and placing it under for a better angle. white cotton covers now stained red. so did you. so did everything he touched. But god was it tempting? to just be painted in his love. to be tainted with his lust.

"Already so wet? Say, baby," he cooed, dragging you by your thighs with both of his hands so you're closer, "What made you wet? Me?" Your cheeks started burning from embarrassment. So much that you could only reply in a nod.

"use your words, angel, or i'll slap this pussy" he wasn't mean. he just knew how to get your pussy worked up for him. he knew that deep down, under that mask of embarrassment was someone who wanted it to happen. who wanted to drown in choso's curse, in his desires. "fine."

*slap*

It stung, his fingers, blood red against your clit for a harsh second.

"ngh—" you jolted at the sting.

"wanna try again? what made you so wet?"

two seconds passed and he was getting his palm in action before you yelped out "your abs! please. i saw you at shibuya and i couldn't take it." you really couldn't. Yeah you've seen him naked a hundres times but not when he was fighting. Not when he was killing with a poker face, as red dripped down, plaguing each cell of his sweaty skin.

"mhm? is that so?" he positioned his cock to your entrance. "didn't know you were watching me. good thing though," he slammed his hips so hard, the headboard hit the wall. "cause if i'd seen you there, i would've fucked this pretty pussy in front of everyone?"

you cry, his actions and his shameful words sending electricity to your nerves.

"ah! fuck! fe—feels so goood. mmm."

"hmm...yeah? look at her sss—look at your pussy sucking me all in," he grunted. "gonna fill her up real nice, angel."

Choso started putting his entire energy in fucking you into another universe. You were convinced if he went even a little bit harder, he'd end up breaking the bed, the wall and you.

When he finally pulled two orgasms out of you, he couldn't contain himself anymore. His moves got sloppier but swifter, until he came inside you, spilling his cream inside you. He pulled out and watched his cum leak and meet the blood that sputtered off from him on the skin. You laid sore on the bed, tinted with a hue of bright red, with splashes of cum. You never looked more beautiful to him.

Tags: @dadhazard @princess-okkotsu @dabisqueen @hand-domain @erencvlt @meadows-of-light @1mawh0re @vampress7 @dilfslayer3000 @canary58143 @gunfiendbabymama @http-kats @mocking-rain @finnoah @skillsluts @thekanrojimitsuri2 @euvwia @missyusuke-and-the-team @adimelymanner @blinkingsuns @sinistersnakey1427 @igocrazyeveryday @viviennesvenus @chaoticexistence @marvdcspace @sleepysnorlaxsblog @sunshytea @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi @moonchild12354 @naughtygobbo @megumistoehair

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ghostbsuter · 7 months

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Water drips down in the corner, the steady dop drop drop— does wonders for the bat.

Batman has been taken, tied up, and undressed of his utility belt. It takes him a second to figure out who took him, by the large but empty and run down warehouse, the sound of the shore not far away.

The docks. He shuffles, bound and comm off.

Then, the steel enforced door slams open and Joker enters.

"Batsy!" He calls, overjoyed. The man walks to the bound vigilante and crouches to his height.

"It's been so long, hasn't it been?"

The vigilante grunts. "Joker."

"Today will be different." He goes on, "today, we have," the crime Prince drums his fingers on Batman's thigh. "A guest!"

He freezes at that, Joker has a civilian.

(Oracle sends out the message, her voice firm, and the coords are shared to the rest of the clan in seconds as she looks at her monitor. Batman's red dot at the harbour bright.)

"I'm a guest now?" The voice of a child asks, it brings slight confusion that the boy wasn't tied nor harmed in any way.

It's relief that he seems okay, but the danger of standing next to the Joker has Batman wiggling in his restrains.

"Is that a promotion or demotion for son?"

A brief look of annoyance enters Joker before being smoothed out, the boy is dealing with a delicate time bomb. Uncomfortably close to the madman.

(He hurries in the process of breaking free.)

"My son! My blood!" Sings the clown, throwing his hands around the boy's shoulders and prancing around.

Which brings another question.

Son?

Cool lighting hits the boy's head and the tuffs of pink, blue and green become more obvious, hidden beneath black hair previously.

Joker and Harley have a child. A son.

He will visit harley later. The boy comes first.

"Dante! Danyal! Daniel?" Joker croons, shaking the boy. "What was it again?" He stops, turning his son toward him with a grin.

(Robin drops down behind him, hiding, katana ready to be swung.)

"Danny, actually," the child— Danny– shrugs off the hands and steps back. Unflinching from the judging stare, simply waving off the hands creeping to his throat.

"Danny," the name is tested, and the Prince of Crime hums to himself. "We can always replace it as Joker Jr! It fits you better than Danny."

(Red Robin and Spoiler get on position above them, ready to pounce from the construction pillars.)

"Yeah, I don't know about that." He chuckles nervous, catching Batman's eyes and—

His eyes alone scream of fear, scared– scared—!!

"We will get you an acid flower, a new suit as well, the hoodie looks horrible on you." The man notes, humming.

"I prefer hammers." Danny replies with tense shoulders.

Joker clicks his tongue, "You always went after your mother." he hisses, outright glaring at his son now. His hand tightened around the crowbar he'd gathered not long ago.

"I mean," he hesitates, eye trailing off the Joker and over his shoulder. "I did come out of her."

The sound of a loaded gun shatters the silence, and Joker is pulling Danny, switching their positions and pushing him right in front of the gun in Red Hood's hand.

"Always a coward, hiding behind others, aren't you." Danny stops himself from squealing. That's the Red Hood!

(Escrima sticks light up with electricity as Red Hood speaks.)

Joker is ticked off, party ruined and surrounded now that he looks around.

Oh well, he can get his son on his villain path another day.

Cackling, he evades the escrimas, dodging the wonder boy and evading the twin attacks from above.

He pulls out a trigger and presses the bright red Button.

"Have fun bats and birds!"

The warehouse is completely flooded with fear gas, scarecrow wouldn't be mad he sacrificed one of his warehouses, will he?

It's all blurry. In one moment, his view is shrouded, and he's coughing. In another, he gets picked up and brought outside, the Joker gone.

An oxygen mask is placed on him by a paramedic, being handed off to an ambulance that had been called.

Peeking around, he sees Red Hood (!) still lingering around. Danny catches his eye and with a wave, the man is walking towards him.

He simply crosses his arms and tilts his head, waiting.

"Could I get a picture?" Danny blurts out, flushing after and coughing, holding the oxygen mask in his lap.

Red Hood makes a show of his shoulder sagging before crouching down and leaning toward him.

Later, Danny will look at the picture with a boyish grin, crooked and charming.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

A continuation

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clockwayswrites · 5 months

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A Broken Sort or Normal, Epilogue

WC:1383, Masterpost

Danny glances up from his fight to fit the cufflink into the sleeve of his rich blue suit and smiles at what he sees in the mirror.

“You know, it’s supposed to be bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

Wally grins, easily, from where he leans against the door frame. “I’m the one in white so I think I’m the bride, in this case.”

“Oh, so putting the bad luck all on me?” Danny asks as he turns to appreciate how his fiancée looks. Wally really is stunning in his white on white tux. Danny hadn’t been able to stomach the idea of traditional black and white tuxes, not with Phantom still being such a raw wound. Wally hadn’t minded in the least going with a brighter color palette.

“Never,” Wally promises. “We’ll face whatever comes together.”

It’s a vow that Danny unquestionably trusts. Since the curse broke, Wally has been there for every step of it— and Danny has needed a lot of help with steps. Danny’s weakened core not only handicapped him as a ghost but as a living. Many days Danny is able to pass through it all relatively unaffected, other than the cold ache that has settled into his bones, but other days are harder. Other days Danny walks with canes braced against his arms. Other days Danny needs his wheelchair. Other days he can hardly get out of bed unless he goes ghost. And through it all Wally has done everything that he can to make things easy for Danny.

They have a house now, one story and carefully renovated so that on the days Danny needs the wheelchair he can still move around easily. There are electric blankets and soft pillows and this ridiculous massive bean bag that’s big enough for them to both sink into on the bad days.

And there are good days too. There are days where the aches are just a background note, days it all doesn't hurt so much, days where he can fly. Oh how Danny had missed flying. Of all the things that came with being a halfa, flying is what Danny had missed most– not because he could help or be a hero, he missed flying just for himself.

The first time he had felt stable enough to fly, Wally had whisked them out to that same field their first date was in and let Danny loose. Danny had flown for hours, darting around, doing tricks, and floating among the clouds. When he had come back down to earth, Wally had been there, picnic waiting and the biggest smile on his face.

So like everything in Danny’s life, it’s all a balance: the good, the bad, the effort… Danny loves it all.

He loves it not just because it reminds him of how much living means, but because of how deeply it shows that Wally cares. Wally’s love is one thing he can never question. It’s a certainty that Danny has needed through all of the aftermath.

Once Danny had been released from the Watchtower’s medical, he had started small dealing with it all. Coworkers were easy to reply to and he could trust that informing a few would spread the news to the rest. They didn’t push for more than he was willing to give, though he had known he would come back to questions and rumors.

Everyone else was harder.

He had set a video call with Sam and Tucker at the same time. It was maybe a little unfair to not give them each their own call, but he just didn’t have the energy for that. They weren’t kids anymore and hadn’t been for a long time.

“God, Danny,” Tucker started at the same time as Sam said his name.

He held up his hand and their mouths shut with a clack. His smile was tinged with sadness, but it was a smile. “Don’t. You two didn’t do anything horrible.”

“Dude,” Tucker said and for a moment Danny was back in high school. Tucker looked good, still in bright colors and with his hair expertly shaved on the sides with a little pattern. “We forgot about you.”

“We left you alone to deal with all that,” Sam said. Her hair was a more natural shade of black now and her smoky eye an expertly done wing. It was odd to see her lips red instead of purple.

“Because of a curse. You forgot because of a curse,” Danny said, “and then you just did what anyone does, you went on to have a future. It’s not like we had some big fight or anything, you both just moved on with your lives.”

“That still had to hurt,” Sam said.

“It did,” Danny said honestly. He didn’t see the point of pretending the past hadn’t happened. “But that doesn’t mean it was either of your faults. The last thing I want is anyone doing anything for me out of guilt, especially since in this case it’s misplaced. It’s okay that you both grew up. I did too.”

It hurt and it would always hurt, at least a little, but Danny didn’t want any false care now.

Sam chewed on her lip and Danny smiled a little at the sight of the old habit. “I’m still sorry.”

“Me too,” Tucker said.

“Thanks, that does mean a lot, but it’s okay, really.”

There was a level of peace from that talk. Sam and Tucker both asked if they could reach out sometimes, and Danny said yes but with zero expectations. They were different people than they were as children and Danny knew, because he had lived it, that without Phantom there wasn’t much for them to talk about. And Danny had no plans to talk about Phantom. That part of him had ended with a wish seven years ago. He didn’t want to rehash or relive it now, even with them.

Jazz… Jasmine was harder. Sam and Tucker losing touch was just part of growing up. His own sister ignoring him though, that wasn’t the same at all. If it wasn’t for his nieces, Danny didn’t know if he would even be trying with Jasmine, even as apologetic as she was. There were some things that were too hard to come back from.

“Are they here?” Danny asks and looks back down at his stubborn sleeve.

Wally steps forward and takes the cufflink from Danny. He’s gentle as he fits it into the slot and secures it. “They are. And all our friends are here too. Just remember that you don’t have to talk to them any more than you want to. It’s okay to be taking things slow. It’s okay to decide that you can’t do this with her. You know I’m with you whatever you decide.”

Danny raises Wally’s hands to brush a kiss across each set of knuckles. “I know. I’m so lucky to have you. Is it bad that part of me making an effort with them is so that my nieces have family other than their moms and our parents?”

“Nope. I think that makes you a really good uncle. I mean, where would I be without Aunt Iris? Family like that can mean a lot and if that’s the only reason you have for dealing with your sister, then that’s enough,” Wally assures him.

It helps Danny relax some.

“Okay, good. We’ll just… see how it goes. I’m not going to focus too much on them today, not when today is about me and you.”

“I think that’s all good. You’re just wrong about one thing though,” Wally says, his grin just a little mischievous. Danny loves that grin.

“And what’s that, Mister West?”

“Well, soon to be Mister West,” Wally says, “it’s that I’m the lucky one. I could have lost you so many times and so many ways and despite everything, today I get to marry you. I don’t think there’s anyone luckier than me today.”

“Well, not to have our first fight,” Danny teases, “but agree to disagree.”

“I think I can live with that.”

Danny laughs. There’s nothing funny about that, but the laughter bubbles up in him all the same, not from humor but from joy. “Living, that sounds like a very, very good plan.”

---

AN: Aaaaaah we are done!! Not everything is perfect, but Danny is alive and living and Wally is going to be with him for all of it <3. Thank you all for coming along for the ride on this! It's been unexpectedly delightful to write these two together and I'm glad to finally wrap it up with (hopefully) a nice bow.

And yes, this will be going up on ao3 but I need the brain functions to go back to the start and give it a good polish! I'll likely do it chapter by chapter weekly to give myself and my darling beta @mokulule time.

Until then or the next thing here, stay delightful, darlings!

#dp x dc #quick death ship #danny/wally #abson

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fangirl-dot-com · 5 months

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Chapter 14 - Speed, I am Speed

WE'VE MADE IT TO THE 2024 SEASON. IT IS LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO!

When I started this fanfic, I never would have thought that people would be interested in it enough for it to get past the first few chapters. But everyone has proved me wrong! Here's to a great fictional season!

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! Much love <3

TAG LIST IS OPEN - 6 SPOTS LEFT!

Screams echoed through the paddock as whispers of your arrival seeped through the cracks of the buildings. The drivers watched with smiles as crowds of girls, boys, and adults alike flooded the entrance area to maybe catch of glimpse of you. Only a select few would be lucky enough to get a signature or for you to even take what they offered. But that didn’t damped the electric atmosphere that was quickly building.

The moment you scanned your card and stepped through the turn-style, all hell broke loose.

Max stood next to Christian in the garage that was placed in the middle. The Ferrari garage was to the right, and McLaren sat to the left.

“Quite popular. Isn’t she?” a stray mechanic commented as he worked on one of the RB20s.

Christian only smirked. “She’s great for the media that’s for sure.”

Max stepped through the entrance to wait for you. He was already in his Red Bull kit with a signature can in his grasp. He watched as you quickly signed multiple things and stopped to take few pictures. He noticed that you really only stood still for the squirming kids who really looked nervous to be next to you.

You were hastily ushered farther into the paddock as you were a tad bit late. The outfit you had on was similar to Max. Jeans adorned your legs while a Red Bull polo was hidden behind your famous blue bomber jacket. Dark red sneakers completed the look. A winter flavored red bull sat comfortably in your hand. You had talked to Max about how the flavor was far superior than his preferred original. He would only eyeroll and then sip his own can.

A bright smile shone on your face as the cameras clicked around you. Video cameras followed your every move.

Lando and Charles had joined Max. They too were in their respective Ferrari and McLaren kits. The bright orange clashed with the bright red, while Max was the neutral navy between. Some cameras were pointed their way hoping to get a few shots of a not so common friendship and a decade old rivalry turned friendship. Yet, the trio’s attention was all on you.

You had finally gotten to the garage. However, you completely missed the three and walked right in, excited to greet your mechanics, Christian, pit crew, and Mitch. The one thing the crew all liked about you was that you made sure to try to say hello and check in with how they were doing.

You had surprised everyone with coffees or other drinks for preseason testing as a way to share your appreciation.

As you went around the garage, you gave a quick side hug to Christian and then walked over to Mitch. Your eyes lit up at the sight of another familiar figure next to your strategist. You stood and talked to the two.

While you stood there, completely oblivious to the three men standing outside, they of course didn’t miss anything.

Lando stood there with open eyes. “Did she just walk right past us?”

Max just continued to be unbothered and sipped his drink.

Charles had a familiar knowing look in his eyes. “Who is she talking to mate?”

The British driver scoffed and waved his hand. “Her strategist.”

The Dutchman sighed before maneuvering the papaya man to a better angle.

“Can you see now?” The driver in red questioned as he smirked at the now visible scene.

“Oh.”

The three stared as you talked to your best friend, who was now clad in a Sky Sports polo and khaki pants. You threw your head back as you laughed at something the younger Monegasque had said. Mitch also chuckled where she stood.

Finally, your head turned and eyes made contact with steel blue ones. Your smile somehow got even bigger at the sight of the Dutchman and you other friends. You said something short to the two around you. Arthur gave you a side hug before he ducked out the side entrance, probably going to get ready for the driver’s parade. You’d hope that he was the one to interview you.

You were now making your way to the other three drivers. Your maroon Red Bull was still in your hands.

“Top of the afternoon to you gentlemen,” you spoke in a posh accent. Lando rolled his eyes. “Oh shut up that was a good impression. You’re just a hater.”

“As if. You live there now, you could at least learn how to properly speak.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You barely live there anyway now. You should be talking like Charles if you expect me to be able to finesse a British accent.”

“Oh so now I have to speak in some hoity toity French accent?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused Charles.”

“Stay out of this Max.”

“Ladies, ladies, you’re all pretty, but let’s save the fighting for the track,” a new voice that was attached to one Oscar Piastri sounded as he walked up to the four of you.

“What’s up pastry?” you asked him. “And where is your better half?” Your eyes ran wild around the paddock.

“Uh who?”

“You know? The smell of gunpowder and the cry of eagles follow him where ever he walks?”

Oscar sent you a deadpan look and sighed like a middle-aged dad. He turned just a bit to show the bright blue suit that belonged to the American Williams driver. He was looking at an iPad before he suddenly sensed five pairs of eyes on him. He looked up, grinned stupidly, and waved. You were glad to wave back, while the four men waved small ones.

“He’s such an iPad kid.”

“So are you,” Max finally. You squawked like a bird as you stared at him.

“If I’m one, so is Lando. Mr. I play Fortnite all the time.”

Charles was done with your bickering. “Oscar did you need something?”

The Aussie looked so done with everything, but perked up at the question. “Yes. Zach sent me to fetch Lando. We need to get ready for the parade.”

A look of enlightenment crossed over both Lando and Charles’s faces as they said quick goodbyes before turning to go back to their own garages. That left you and Max to stand out in the open. He closed the gap between you and wrapped an arm around you. At that motion, multiple cameras clicked but the two of you didn’t care.

“Are you ready for today?” he asked as the two of you walked into the garage where you’d be escorted to the parade.

“Yep! I mean, you’re starting pole and I’m starting P6, so we’ll see what happens.” Your shoulders raised in a shrug.

“Kid that’s good for your first race.”

“I know. I think I thought that I’d be higher up.”

Max squeezed you a little tighter. “You just have to worry about overtaking George, Lewis, and Lando. Once you get them, you could be forecast for a podium.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’d be happy with just staying in the points.”

Christian clapped the your backs as you passed him to line up in the back for the parade. You found a small corner of the room to just sit in. Your headphones had been given to you in your garage, and classical piano music filled the speakers. You knew you probably looked so anti-social right now, but you didn’t care. You needed to find your calm before the storm hit.

Many drivers didn’t even send you a second glance, yet one found himself on the floor next to you. The Monegasque’s cologne filled your nostrils as you put your head on his shoulder. You flashed him a thankful grin as you showed your phone screen.

MON23 was the song that was currently flooding your headphones. Charles rolled his eyes, but the smile stayed on his face. Max was the one to come get the two of you once the signal was given that the parade was about to start. You and Max walked out together, and there was Arthur, ready with his microphone.

He turned to the camera that was in front of you. “I am joined by Max Verstappen and Y/n L/n. Thank you for joining me, even if you didn’t have a choice.”

Max and you let out a laugh at the comment.

He continued. “So we saw some domination from the RB20 in the free practices with you Max snatching P1, P2, and then P3 respectively and then taking Pole Position for the first race of 2024. How is the car handling this year and do you expect the same amount of untouchable-ness as last year?”

The Dutchman leaned into the microphone, while you stood next to him waving at the spectators.

“Yeah, well we saw that the Ferraris and McLarens were going to be close after the preseason testing. I was glad that I was able to take pole. I know this one,” he pointed at you which made your attention shift to the conversation, “was wanting a higher position. But the car is fantastic, yet I think that it’ll be a closer year.”

Arthur looked happy with the question as he turned to you.

“So Y/n, we know you’re starting P6. What are you plans for that?”

You huffed as you now talked into the microphone. “Well I plan to just fight as hard as I can. I know that Max and I have very different strategies today. But, overall we just want to bring as many points to get a jump start on the Constructors.”

You were given a nod from some personelle signaling that it was time to wrap thing up.

Arthur turned back to the camera. “Well thank you both for your time and best of luck!”

The two of you were led to a car with an open top. Thankfully for this time, you and Max would be together. Funny enough, they told you to drive. Your eyes widened so much when they handed the keys to you.

You kept turning around asking if this information was correct. Max was just sitting in the car laughing. You climbed in and turned the car on. Once the parade started, you pushed the gas pedal and the car started to move.

The lap around the track was a nice one. Max and you made small talk while waving to the crowds who seemed to yell louder when your attention was turned to them.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself in your race suit and helmet in your hand, going over your race strategy one more time with Mitch.

She explained it once more. “So by turn one, you need to be up at least two places. You need to get the jump on George, Lando, and Lewis. They tend to go inside, so going wide will be your best friend even if it seems tricky. You're faster than they are. Try to get up to Max who can give you a tow if needed. And kid?”

“Yeah?”

“Just have fun. Points are points. You don’t need a podium to show your worth.”

You nodded at her revelation and put your balaclava on. Arthur had somehow snuck in to do your handshake beforehand. He knew that it would calm you down just a bit. You slipped your helmet on and connected the different wires. With one foot over the car and the other following suit, you quickly adjusted your race suit before slipping down into the car. One of the mechanics put the screen on the nose for you to go over data and tyre degradation one more time. Your eyes flickered across the screen before it was taken away and your car was pushed out.

At that time, you put your visor down. Your fingers touched where your lips would have been without your helmet and rose to the air. A second ritual you would call it – a special motion for your godfather.

Starting Grid:

Max Verstappen

Charles Leclerc

Lewis Hamilton

Lando Norris

George Russel

Y/n L/n

Oscar Piastri

Fernando Alonso

Carlos Sainz

Alex Albon

Lance Stroll

Logan Sargeant

Pierre Gasly

Yuki Tsonda

Daniel Ricciardo

Esteban Ocon

Zhou Guanyu

Kevin Magnussen

Valtteri Bottas

Nico Hulkenberg

They put your car on the P6 grid mark and stayed near with the tyre covers. The five guys smiled as you began to move about, nerves making it hard to stay still. Your eyes closed and a smile made its way to your lips.

“Speed. I am speed. One winner, nineteen losers. I eat losers for breakfast.”

“Kid, you know the radio is on right?”

Your eyes shot open at the sound of Mitch’s voice.

“Uh now I do.”

Her chuckle came through the speakers in your headphones that where under all the face layers.

“At least we know the radio is working.”

One of the men must have gotten the signal because the tire covers came off and everyone who wasn’t a driver fled the scene. Up ahead, you noticed Max start to drive off. After him was Charles, then Lewis, then Lando, then George. And now it was your turn. Using the pedals, you gently eased your car into movement. You were starting on softs. The team had let you know that you were going for a three stop strategy. Softs, hards, then finish the race on softs. Max was going for the soft, soft, and then hards.

The team were hoping that by putting you on the softs, you’d be able to help Max with the last stint of the race. Softs were your specialty, especially used softs. So the last bit of the race should be your fastest.

Your formation lap consisted of weaving back and forth, warming the tyres up and getting them ready to grip the track. Once you were back in your spot, you were careful not to go over the line and stay in the half box. Your eyes shifted up to watch the lights.

Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink.

Inhale. Exhale.

Blink.

Your feet hit the pedals before your mind even comprehended. Your head swerved back and forth to look at your mirrors. Behind you, there was the dark green Aston Martin of Fernando Alonso and the other papaya colored McLaren of Oscar. However, the beginning of this track was a giant straight.

With tyres still warm, you quickly got into George’s slip stream and made your move.

For the viewers everywhere, Croft’s voice rang out.

“And it’s lights out and away we go!

"Max Verstappen gets the upper hand on Charles Leclerc on that initial jump but Leclerc is not giving up just yet.

"There goes the Mercedes of Lewis Hamilton right behind Charles Leclerc as they go into the first corner of this race. Seems like Leclerc was able to keep his position.

"Oh! And around the outside is Y/n L/n getting the jump on both George Russell and Lando Norris! An overtake on the outside is really tricky but she has made it work for her favor. This rookie is making moves right out the bat.

"I see we have some congestion in the back. Looks like the Haas of Kevin Magnussen has found the side of Alfa Romeo of Valtteri Bottas.

"Let’s have a replay of that beginning shall we? We’ll start onboard with our rookie.”

The camera is on your car as the viewers can see the lights go out and your car lurches forward at the start. Your head swivels as it seems like you’re making sure not to hit the Aston or McLaren that were behind you.

But once you found George Russell’s slip stream, your head stayed straight as you exited to the left of George to go around the outside of both the Mercedes and Lando’s McLaren. As your RB20 continued forward George and Lando quickly left your camera’s view as you now had seven time world champion Lewis Hamilton in your sights.

“And what a great overtake that was on L/n’s part. Let’s head back to see that little kiss between the Alfa and Haas.”

You had now found yourself right behind the Mercedes. Yes, they possibly had the faster car, but you had the pace.

And you were gaining.

You pressed the radio button. “Gap to Hamilton?”

Mitch was quick to respond. “Two point three-seven behind. But you’re gaining two tenths a lap. Keep it up.”

“Thank you.”

In the next nine laps, you were right behind him.

“What is the gap to Leclerc after I get around Hamilton?

“Five seconds. But we will pit before you get there. You have about five laps left before tyre degradation gets too terrible. Use three to get around him and two to widen the gap.”

“Perfect.”

Yet, in about two laps you were right on his tail. Using DRS, you were able to get him on turns 14 and 15 as the DRS was coming to an end.

“And it looks like Y/n L/n is about to make her move on Lewis Hamilton! She goes wide once more on turn 14 and cuts him off by going deep into turn 15, does she have it?

"She does! What a move!”

You fly down the straight with Lewis trying to get back ahead of you. Yet, you were quick with the defensive moves.

“Hamilton is not giving up that spot. Will he be able to take it back at the corner of turn one? He does not gain the position back and has to be fine with fourth for now.”

“Good job. Keep it up.”

“I’m trying,” your voice rattled. In three laps you were called into the pits.

“Looks like Red Bull is calling L/n into the pits for her first stop. Now drivers are losing about 15 seconds so this will put her down back to P8 right after the Ferrari of Carlos Sainz who has gained to positions since the start 14 laps ago.

"And that is a 2.0 second pit stop. Phenomenal for Red Bull whose pit crew seemed to be bored this winter break.”

“Good stop. Can you let the boys know?”

“On it kid.”

“Looks like L/n wants a message relayed to the crew. What a sweetheart she is.”

You apparently were the first one to start the pit stop train, because either one, two, or three laps later the pits were full with cars coming in and out. Like strategy, you were now on hards. Yes, they weren’t your preference but, you needed to change the tyre type at least once during the race: it was mandatory.

You somehow were leading the Bahrain Grand Prix. For about the second half.

Surprisingly, Max had gotten overtaken by Charles right out of the pit exit. You knew you needed to extend the gap between you and the Monegasque Driver, so that you and Max could pit at the same time.

By the 37 lap, you were calling in your radio.

“I need to box. Left tyre is almost dead.”

“Got it. Max is in a good position as well so you will come in and Max will follow. Stay focused.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Looks like the Red Bulls are coming in to box. And who is that as well? Charles Leclerc follows Max Verstappen inside. But there is a significant gap as L/n is already leaving the Bull area with new tyres and Verstappen is getting fixed as well. Leclerc will have to have a perfect pit stop to at least catch up to the two.

"And that is a rather slow stop for Ferrari with a 3.2 second stop. Will this be the mistake that leads to yet another Red Bull 1-2?”

You and Max bolted out of the pit exit once it was safe to do so and you were over the line. You were told to keep giving him the tow for a couple of laps since you were now on the softs while Max was on the hards.

However, after a couple of laps, something seemed off.

You pressed you radio. “It feels like the tyres are wearing down a lot more. Do we have something for that? I could make it to the end, but I might get overtaken.”

“We’re checking. Just keep being nice on the corners. Max has been given the go ahead to overtake you. GP will tell him about your tyres and he should help you keep going.”

“Is this the moment that the Bulls will switch? We know that they’d like to keep their champion at the front as soon as possible. Ah, there it is. Nice pass on the straight going into the fourth corner.”

GP came on over Max’s radio.

“Max, Y/n’s tyres are degrading faster than expected. I’ll keep you updated but she will fall out of DRS or any tow help in about five laps.”

“Are we sure there isn’t anything else to do?”

“Positive. You just keep going. She said that she’s going to try to fend off Leclerc who is gaining 2 tenths per lap but is 3 seconds behind Y/n with 10 more laps to go.”

Max watched you fall out of help-range in the predicted 5 laps. He could catch glimpses of you when he slowed down on the corners but that was about it. All he focused on now was being the first one across the checkered flag.

You were coping brilliantly. By going slower around the corners you were slowing down the tyre deg but also slowing down Charles.

“Gap to Charles and then Max please?”

“Gap to Max is about nine seconds now. And Charles is still gaining and is now in DRS so watch out on the corners.”

“Got it. My tyres are done for and I have no grip. Might be safer to let him pass. I don’t want to pull a George Russell 2023 Singapore.”

“Focus.”

Well, you didn’t thundercunt yourself into a wall, but on the first corner of the last lap, you had a lock up.

“That is a bad lockup for the Red Bull rookie and there goes Leclerc, taking advantage of the small mistake. Props to Y/n though for handling the car well and getting it back on track.”

“Oh shit!” you exclaimed as your car went wide allowing Charles to slip by. “Sorry for the language.”

You turned your radio off, a bit embarrassed and annoyed at yourself, not wanting to hear Mitch’s reply.

You tried desperately to catch back up but it was no use. Your tyres were done as you crossed the finish line in third place. You quickly turned your radio back on.

“And good job Kid with points, third place, and a podium on your first race. Congrats.”

“Aaahhhhh thank you team! This was an experience for sure and I can’t wait for the next one! Sorry for that lock up, we’ll get them next time.” Your hand stuck out the top to wave as you drove significantly slower.

“Wasn’t your fault kid. We’ll go over in debrief. Enjoy the celebration, you earned it.”

Max had already parked in the first place spot as he got out of the RB20. He turned and expected to see you in the second place spot, but was a bit disappointed when he saw his childhood rival. His heart sank for a bit as he thought you might have been overtaken more than once. But his spirits rose when he saw your RB20 pull into the third place.

He watched as you stood on the nose and lifted your arms up in celebration, put one down, and keep the other raised with a fist clenched as you brought it down sharply. He knew the cameras were eating it up.

If his history knowledge was correct, and it usually was, you were the first woman since Lella Lombardi to score points, but were the first one to get on the podium.

You were making history.

And the people were eating it up. Your name was heard above everyone’s. He would meet you in the cool down room.

He was escorted over to the weighing station where he stood for a few moments before going over to the cool down room. He was soon joined by Charles. The two stood like middle-aged dads who were watching their neighbors mow their lawn and silently judging them as they watched the recaps. The main one was your first overtake around the outside.

“Dang she’s quick in that car.”

Max nodded. “Her simulator times were a bit faster than me during testing.”

“I don’t know how then I got around her. Seemed like she was just falling behind the last five laps.”

“My tyres were degrading too quickly and were basically done by the time I crossed the finish line.” You walked into the room, sweat glistening on your forehead where your hair also stuck. Although you hadn’t gotten your second place, third place was still impressive. A smile was probably permanently stuck on your face now.

Max held his arms open for a hug and you dove right in. His hands rubbed up and down your back. Your gaze was now turned to the TV where you watched Lando and Lewis dance for multiple turns before Lewis finally took P4 on the second to last lap.

Charles brought you into a quick hug and kissed your forehead. You wanted to talk some more, but you had been queued to go up to the podiums. You went out first, Charles followed, and then Max. You stood still as the Dutch anthem rung, followed by the Austrian.

And now it was your favorite part. Your grabbed your bottle and shook it, before hauling it up on your shoulder like you always did.

The "champagne cannon" as people liked to call it. You showered the older drivers with the sticky liquid, but was quickly turned against and sprayed as well. You then walked over to the banister and sprayed the team below.

When your bottle was finished you picked up your trophy and made your way down to celebrate with Red Bull.

You quickly found Mitch and gave her a giant hug like you had done once you got out of your car earlier. Christian also gave you a big hug and told you how proud he was of you.

The night for you didn’t last much longer as the adults had said that they were going out to a club to celebrate. You were a bit saddened to hear that you couldn’t come with, being on the podium and all. But, your time would come.

And instead of celebrating, you changed out of your suit and fire proofs and got into comfier clothing. However, you couldn’t stop yawning.

Thinking that Mitch, Christian, or Max would come get you to leave, you lied down on your small bed in your drivers room. An alarm was not set.

Your eyes closed and you fell asleep soon after. Dreams of first place danced behind your eyelids.

You’d get there if it was the last thing you’d do.

skysportsf1 has posted

skysportsf1 we are excited to introduce our main interviewer line up for the 2024 season. David Croft will still lead our main commentary, but we welcome Nico Rosberg, new-comer Arthur Leclerc, and Jensen Button to our team!

liked by formula1_fan, y/n.89, charles_leclerc, y/nxarthur, and 22,830 others

formula1_fan YEESSS so happy to see this trio! maybe we'll actually have good interviews now

y/nxarthur this is just fueling the delulu

leclercbros4life so happy to see Arthur still involved in Formula 1

change_ur_f-car I know right! I would have thought he'd given up charles-marry_ME now he can be near Charles and Y/n all the time y/n-is_my-romanempire I mean, I would have liked it to be Arthur Leclerc "Y/n L/n's Partner" but we'll get there

y/n.89 THAT'S MY BEST FRIEND RIGHT THERE! WHOO!!!!!!!!!!!

landonorris I think you missed an exclamation mark maxverstappen1 I thought I was your best friend arthur_leclerc sorry mate, but I was here first oscarpiatri he would like to be more tho *this comment was deleted* y/n.nation UH HELLO????

arthur_leclerc thank you for this amazing opportunity!

arthur-4lifers baby boy is BACK

sebastianvettel good to see you here kid! can't wait for the future

f1_fanatic this seems suspicious

RedBullRacing has posted

redbullracing a phenomenal start to the 2024 season with an RB 1-3! See you all in Jeddah!

liked by y/n-on-top, lestappenlove, logansargeant, and 93,822 others

y/n.nation YEAH PODIUM AND POINTS FOR OUR ROOKIE

box_box_offical I totally see her breaking Hamilton's rookie year in points - place your bets here ladies and gents

charles_leclerc glad to share a podium with Max and Y/n, but tell them to watch out next race

y/n.89 yeah, we'll be watching you...in our mirrors as you eat our dust maxverstappen1 what she said

emotional_support_rivals loved the lestappen moment, y/n is their kid at this point

y/n.89 whose last name would I take? maxverstappen1 mine charles_leclerc mine y/n.89 you're both wrong, I'm taking Geri's :) arthur_leclerc hyphenate?

maxiel-lover that start, middle, and finish were just the best

y/n's_version I will have a new Roman Empire every weekend at this point

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 race one of freshman year in the books! first woman since lella to gain some points and first woman to stand on any step on the podium. next stop - the number one spot

liked by martagarcialopez19, liakblock, kellypiquet, and 73,209 others

martagarcialopez19 my hero and role model everyone!

liakblock mine too! y/n.89 gonna cry :(

iamred_iamyellow literally number 1 driver, max get out of the way

redbullracing ROOKIE! ROOKIE! ROOKIE!

y/n.89 ADMIN! ADMIN! ADMIN!

arthur_leclerc favorite girl *liked by y/n.89*

landonorris I'll get you next time

y/n.89 surreeee

hE_tUrned_inTo_mE this was one of the best opening races ever, that double overtake around the outside was amazing

y/n_updates this race is going in the history books

Race Stats:

Max Verstappen

Charles Leclerc +3.583

Y/n L/n +1.264

Lewis Hamilton +2.840

Lando Norris + fastest lap +1.264

Carlos Sainz +1.830

George Russell +2.375

Oscar Piastri +4.284

Alex Albon +3.001

Fernando Alonso +2.904

Logan Sargeant +1.992

Lance Stroll +5.932

Pierre Gasly +6.200

Daniel Ricciardo +1.209

Yuki Tsunoda +2.092

Esteban Ocon +3.871

Zhou Guanyu +6.997

Nico Hulkenberg +8.287

Valtteri Bottas – DNF

Kevin Magnussen – DNF

Driver's Championship Standings:

Max Verstappen – 25 points

Charles Leclerc – 18 points

Y/n L/n – 15 points

Lewis Hamilton – 12 points

Lando Norris – 11 points

Carlos Sainz – 8 points

George Russell – 6 points

Oscar Piastri – 4 points

Alex Albon – 2 points

Fernando Alonso – 1 point

Logan Sargeant – 0 points

Lance Stroll – 0 points

Pierre Gasly – 0 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 0 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 0 points

Esteban Ocon – 0 points

Zhou Guanyu – 0 points

Nico Hulkenberg – 0 points

Valtteri Bottas – 0 points

Kevin Magnussen – 0 points

Constructor’s Championship Standings

Red Bull – 40 points

Ferrari – 26 points

Mercedes – 18 points

McLaren – 16 points

Williams – 2 points

Aston Martin – 1 point

Racing Bulls – 0 points

Alpha Romeo – 0 points

Haas – 0 points

Alpine – 0 points

If you want a continuation, read this chapter of Besties for the Resties!

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @aeh2 @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @cassie0sstuff @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @mellowarcadefun

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lessi-lover · 6 months

Note

maybe where reader is anxious (maybe has a panic attack) and leah notices and helps her? have a lively weekend !

safe in your arms II l.williamson ~

short little blurb based on this request, thank you! 🫶🏻

tw: anxiety, panic attacks, emotional distress, public scrutiny. author note - please note that the experiences of anxiety and emotional distress depicted in this story are not my own. they are drawn respectfully from others who have faced these challenges.

06 ★ ~ l. williamson

the press conference room buzzed with an electric energy, the passionate feeling was unmatched, a stark contrast to the nervous fluttering in your stomach.

Chelsea vs. Arsenal W.F.C, Sunday, December 10th 2023. one of the most important games of the barclays super league, the highest league of football in england, the pressure was undeniable.

seated beside leah, you felt the weight of every camera flash, each question from the reporters heightening you angst.

leah's presence was a comfort, her hand hidden under the table, resting on your thigh, her thumb rubbing softly into your skin. although, even that felt like a fragile shield against the slaughter of probing questions sent your way.

as the questions grew more personal, the knot of anxiety in your chest tightened, your throat beginning to close up. "does your relationship affect the team's ability to focus?" a reporter asked, pen ready in his hand.

leah's responses were calm and measured, her ability to fend off invasive journalists was admirable, yourself never having particularly having the confidence. your breaths became shallow, the room felt as if it was closing in around you. your skin began to heat up, eyesight now blurred and hazy.

when the question about your personal life being a distraction was posed, it was the final straw. your heart raced, and the room spun in circles. "darling." you could hear your girlfriend trying to speak to you, her mouth moving, but no sound coming out.

standing abruptly, you excused yourself, nearly stumbling as you retreated to the first empty room you could find, leah following closely behind you.

the warmth of the bathroom enveloped your body, leaving your skin sticky and uncomfortable. leaning your forehead against the sink, you tried to steady your breathing, but the overwhelming feelings just made your breaths shallower.

that's when leah appeared, concern evident on her features, as she closed the door behind her.

"hey, it's alright," leah's voice was soft, a stark contrast to the chaotic room you'd just left. she approached and gently cupped your face, her thumbs stroking your tearful cheeks. "breathe with me love," she coaxed. your legs shook, your body almost crashing to the ground, before the blonde caught you.

her soft, blue eyes, filled with unwavering support and comfort, locked with yours in the glass mirror. as your breaths finally began to match hers, leah leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, before leaning her own head against yours. "you're okay, darling. i'm here," she whispered, her lips brushing against your cheek, sending a wave of comfort through you.

feeling a bit steadier, you wrapped your arms around her, seeking the warmth and safety of her arms. leah held you close, whispering loving words, her heart beating steadily against your chest. she kissed the top of your head, each kiss a wordless promise of her love for you.

she would always be there for you.

after a moment, when leah thought you were ready, she pulled back slightly, her eyes searching yours. "let's leave, let's go." she suggested, her voice a gentle whisper. "we can go home, love." the thought of escaping with Leah, away from the prying eyes and bright lights, was a savior to your conflicted mind.

she clasped her hand with yours, as both made your way through the busy corridors of the building, freeing away from the hectic conference. once outside, the cool night air was refreshing, washing over your skin like a soothing breath after the stifling feeling you'd left behind.

the drive home was quiet, staring out the window, you let your eyes wonder the busy streets of london. you never really did let yourself have a second to pause. the blonde driving you, understood you needed time for your head to ground itself. her presence beside you was reassuring, her hand finding yours, squeezing it gently, a reminder that you would get through this together.

you finally turned to leah, your voice barely above a small whisper, 'Thank you for being there, for me.' leah's response was immediate, 'Always, love. We're in this together."

lost in your own thought, you didn't even take notice that you had arrived home, leah gently tucked a strand of her behind your ear. getting out of the car, she raced over to your side, a common gesture of the blonde. although, this time it meant more.

the familiar scent of home greeted you as Leah opened the door, the soft lighting inside calming your eyes. back in the comfort of your home, you felt your breath return to its usual pace, and the pounding in your head reside. leah took care of you with a tenderness that made your heart swell up in love.

she prepared your favorite snacks and settled next to you on the couch, wrapping a braided blanket around you both. she lifted your hips, bringing you impossibly close, before lighting pecking the side of your head.

the movie playing in the background was merely white noise to the comfort you found in each other. staring up into her consoling eyes, you found yourself taken away at her natural beauty.

leaning into the blonde, you felt the last remnants of the stressful evening melt away. she turned to you, her eyes gentle in the dim light, and leaned in to capture your lips in a gentle, loving kiss.

"you always make everything better," you whispered against her lips, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. you tucked your head into her neck, allowing yourself to enjoy her comfort.

leah smiled back, her eyes twinkling in affection. "i love you, in every moment, no matter what," she replied, her voice low and sincere. she kissed you again, each a faithful indication of the depth of her feelings.

as the night aged, the two of you remained wrapped in each other's arms, the world of reporters and judgemental fans fading to a distant memory.

in leah's arms, you found not just love, but a place where you could be vulnerable and still feel safe.

you knew she was the one.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine

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riseofamoonycake · 6 months

Note

Hi! I would like to read something about female!reader sending nudes or photos in bath suit to her s/o.

Free choice on the characters, but I don't follow ror or bsd, so if you can don't choose these fandoms.

Ok! Since you didn't specify anything, I chose some interesting babe from a fandom I accept and made some hcs eheheh... and thank you *^* I had a very pleasant time while writing it!

Reacting to you willingly sending them a nude (or a photo in bathing suit)

Featuring: some of my favorite men in JJK

Choso, Kashimo Hajime, Higuruma Hiromi x fem!reader

Choso

As soon as Choso sees the notification of your message, he doesn't think twice and opens it immediately, innocently, even smiling: so, out of the blue, this poor boy finds himself in front of a photo of your body thight in a skimpy swimsuit, which leaves very little to the imagination and yet covers what it needs to cover.

Choso stares at the screen for a split second, just long enough to realize what he is looking at, then turns completely red and has to take his eyes away to focus on something else, whatever it is, while shaking all over and starting to sweat profusely. You hit him, you knocked him out: congratulations, you killed Choso. After this experience, he will never be the same as before.

The blush accompanies him for the rest of the day, as well as what he saw: there is no possibility of making him forget the vision of your breasts wrapped in that miserable flap of fabric, of your plush thighs, of all that exposed skin and only for him… and as soon as Choso sees you again, it gets worse, because he can't even speak and you have to be the one to come closer, take his face in your hands and squeeze his cheeks, and hug his neck while you ask him if everything okay, chuckling as I notice his usual paleness softened by a nice bright red.

"Did you have to do it? What is it, a new form of punishment?", he whispers to you in a faint voice, without the courage to look at your face or touch you; and for the rest of the day he will be on another world. Poor puppy, let him breathe and recover a little; afterwards you will have a lot to talk about…

… And in any case, the photo was more than welcome.

Kashimo Hajime

"Aaaahhh, what a naughty girl…"

Without hiding an amused and excited smile at the same time, Kashimo continues to observe the photo you sent him, observing every detail of that body fully enhanced by the costume you are wearing and barely hidden by the sarong that you - stupidly - decided to put around your waist, so he carefully saves the photo, closes his cell phone and shakes his head, placing that vision in a safe corner of his mind and continuing to do what he had to do: whether he was in the midst of combat or engaged in a simple errand, the pleasure only comes in following duty, otherwise it cannot be fully exalted. Every now and then the photo comes back to him, as it should, but he manages to keep it at bay and not let it interfere with his duties; but when the god of lightning has completed all his commitments and can dedicate himself only to his beautiful partner… it is better for you to start running away.

It is really necessary for you to find a safe haven, because wherever he is, it takes Kashimo just a few minutes to reach you and appear in front of you, his eyes wide with excitement and the most perverse grin you have ever seen crossing his face. Electric shocks crackle around him, aiming in your direction like hissing snakes, almost enveloping you as his arms tighten around your back with energy.

"There she is, the little brat! What did you think you were doing by sending me that photo, hmmm? And why have you already got dressed?"

Well, I told you to escape: now, enjoy as much as possible Kashimo's hot hands that grab and squeeze you, tearing everything you are wearing to caress and pinch the flesh underneath, while his mouth it closes around the neck and bites it with the same hunger as a wolf, carving its mark on your throat, or it seeks the warmth of already dripping folds into which to insert that long and already darting tongue…

Higuruma Hiromi

Your photo arrives just at the most suitable time of the day, when there is total chaos in the law firm, and Higuruma opens the message almost by chance, as if to seek salvation and a bit of calm in your words.

And words are not at all.

The man's breathing is the only thing that changes in him, because his face remains impassive: however, his mind goes blank for an instant while the image of your naked body comes to occupy the entire screen and pushes away practices, tasks and deadlines with the force of a kiss, and he no longer hears anything or responds to anyone.

After entire minutes of silence and immobility, only a: "… Oh?" soft as a caress leaves his lips as he continues to stare at the screen and everyone believes that he is simply enchanted reading something, even if his eyes remain fixed and no one dares to come closer to check what is happening; and in the end the lawyer takes a weak sigh, closes his cell phone and goes back to his work as if nothing had happened, even if his day has completely changed.

His serious expression doesn't change even when he comes home and sees you, and initially he doesn't reply to your smile; then, just before you can say anything, he steps in front of you and stares straight into your eyes. “So, about what you sent me today…” A pause. "Show me the proof of what you say."

You laugh, already knowing where he is going with this; a matter of a few moments, before he grabs your face and gives you an intense kiss, one hand tightening around your hair to gently pull it and the other already undressing you, while he presses his chest against yours until he pushes you against the wall. You smile as you say goodbye to your clothes and underwear, because nothing can stop Hiromi until you are completely naked, just covered by that veil of light coming from the chandelier; and he can grab your hips and dig his nails into them while he lifts and holds you pressed against the wall with his own body, undressing himself just enough to allow you to caress him and him to take you in place and find relief in your soft arms.

Your excited gaze and bated breath push him to start to destroy you slowly but firmly, savoring your every moan and tremble, staring at you while you throw your head back and expose the throat to everything he wants to do to it. You richly deserved it, with your beautiful photo; just as you also deserved the long spanking session that will fall on your sweet buttocks as soon as Higuruma has tamed you well and then his gavel will find a fun use on you for the whole night…

#jjk kashimo #jjk choso #choso kamo #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso #kashimo hajime #hajime kashimo #higuruma hiromi #jjk higuruma #hiromi higuruma #kashimo x reader #kashimo x y/n #higuruma x reader #kamo choso #choso x reader

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welcome-to-green-hills · 2 months

Text

Discussion Film provides a summary of what the extended trailer was geared at Cinemacon 2024.

I’m going to copy the entire blurb here with the link. There’s no need for me to rewrite it.

CinemaCon 2024 only got a very brief look at Sonic the Hedgehog 3 since it barely wrapped production. The brief teaser showed Jim Carry’s Dr. Robotnik in his lab, but he’s gained weight and has let the place go to the dumps with it being full of junk. He’s let his hair go crazy and now has a noticeable belly. Robotnik jokingly says that he’s been binging “carbohydrates.” His assistant, Agent Stone (Lee Majdoub), comes in and says, “We found him.” Stone presents Robotnik with one of Sonic’s blue electric quills, and, as he’s done before, Robotnik licks it and tweaks out. He yells, “Let’s do this!” to Stone’s face, which then cuts to a montage of Robotnik getting his hair cut by Stone and getting a fresh look with his game-accurate mustache, bald head, and depraved-looking eyes.

The Sonic the Hedgehog 3 footage then cuts to Robotnik and an entire gang of henchmen, all armored with laser guns, waking up Shadow the Hedgehog in a cryotube. Shadow opens his eyes, which are bursting with red electric energy. We then cut to Sonic (Ben Schwartz), Tails (Colleen O’Shaughnessey), and Knuckles (Idris Elba) facing off against Shadow in the middle of a huge city street at night. Shadow is noticeably dead silent as it’s still not revealed who the voice actor is. Knuckles jokes that this new Hedgehog is much stronger than the last one he faced, to which Sonic hilariously replies with, “You Mean me?”

The real money shot of the footage is Shadow the Hedgehog riding a motorcycle in the night sky over some skyscrapers and then using it to bounce himself towards Sonic, who is flying upwards at him at full speed. We see Sonic’s bright blue power clash with Shadow’s bright red energy in the night sky, looking like it’s straight out of an anime. The final shot of the exclusive footage showed Robotnik and Sonic away from a ring portal on an empty road. They both look grumpy and like they can’t stand each other’s company — implying that they’re going to have to work together to defeat Shadow.

Discussion Film, 2024.

#sonic movie #sonic movie 3 #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedeghog #sonic cinematic universe #sonic movie 3 spoilers #sonic movie spoilers #sonicmovie3spoilers

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not-vox-on-tummbler · 1 month

Text

VOX x Reader (Blurb)

WARNINGS: Rough Vox, established relationships, use of toys, use of term ‘slut’ more than needed, Smut

MDNI 18+

It was the bright electric blue that had snapped you out of the pre-orgasmic glow you had feeling buzzing in your stomach. It was so jarring have been in the dark just a moment ago KNOWING you were alone, until a bright LED screen was looking down at you with a shit eating grin.

“Having fun there sweetheart?” His voice low and husky, you groan in annoyance having lost your buzz. With a near snarl in your tone,”Fuck you,Vox! You fucking pervert…” you blush and cover yourself fully. He ‘tsk’ at you and sat next to you on the bed. “Now Now, I think you know better than anyone else that I own this precious little hole of yours and you are supposed to ASK PERMISSION TO TOUCH IT WHEN YOU ARE BEING TOO NEEDY OF A SLUT!” He reaches over and grabs a fist full of your hair. You groan in pleasurable pain, you hand flying up to grab onto his wrist,”A-Ah! V-Vox!” He yanks harder and pulls you closer to his brightly lit screen face.

Hissing, you squint your eyes from his screen and open up your mouth to speak again, but he’d beat you to it. “You address me correctly, or you don’t SPEAK at all. Remember?” He growls out and you close your mouth immediately. He grins and raises his brow expectedly,”Yes, sir. Understood.” He releases your hair and squishes your cheeks together. With tear as pricking in your eyes you look up at him,”I’m sorry, sir. I-I couldn’t wait or find you, sir. Please please forgive me…” you whimper out form your fish lips his grip was forcing your face into.

He chuckles and lets go, but not so gently. He releases you with a toss of your head back, you fall on the covers of your bed. You watch him through your lashes as he stood up and stepped off into the rest of the darkness in the room. You hear him pull out a set of keys, jingle them around and as he bent down the light from his head illuminated the chest you were all too familiar with. He unlocks it, takes a moment to look inside before humming in content with his decision of a pair of his own handcuffs and a vibrator that was just perfectly shaped to your pleasure and a suction. You felt chills run down your spine as you have now recognize that this was a punishment and by his pleased and calm demeanor you could tell it was gonna be a long and agonizing punishment.

Within a couple of hours you were crying whimpering and babbling nonsense. Repeating an apology that was being ignored. “Awe c’mon now doll face. You knew the rules. You know the punishment. There are not enough tears or begging that’s gonna change the fact you’re a desperate slut who just doesn’t listen.” He says in a soothing voice. He’s sat in the corner, his pants lazily dropped to his ankles and his hand wrapped around his cock rubbing and teasing his leaking tip. You squirm and kick as you feel another orgasm approaching rapidly, knowing your tells he grins devilishly and with a flick of his claws the vibrator is immediately shut off again, you toss your head back and let out a sob.

He laughs, and again the vibrator is switched back on. He loves this game. He loves making you pay for being disobedient.

It’s the reason you’re his favorite toy.

{Jinx}

#hazbin hotel #Hazbin hotel smut #Vox smut #Hox Hazbin Hotel smut #Vox x reader #Vox x reader smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #Hazbin Vox #idk what other tags #pls reblog

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rel124c41 · 3 months

Text

BITCH CAME BACK. vox

You leave the VoxTek tower at 3 P.M. and return to it at 3 A.M.

Vox likes to think you would never betray him like that.

tags: established relationship, bodyguard, relationship issues, implied/referenced sex, big brother is watching complex, canon typical violence, unhealthy coping mechanisms, & fist fights

word count: 8,626

It is not cheating.

He chooses to believe it is not cheating.

No matter what Valentino whispers about you being unsatisfied in bed; no matter what Velvette teases about how you always leave behind your phone; no matter what his derailing mind starts to image (some muscular hellhound, incubus, sinner, overlord, defined biceps gripping your thighs and –) in his most calamitous moments: Vox chooses to believe you do not leave VoxTek tower to go cheat on him.

Relationships are built on trust. That principle rule is often why relationships fail in Hell. Trust from sinful liars was as valuable as a rock painted gold. In Hell, trust comes from blood signatures and thumping, electric green deals. You and Vox were not bound through these standard demon methods. No contractual deals, you outlined early on, just verbal agreements.

You and Vox did have a certain verbal agreement: three little words. Whispered into the drool spot on his pillow, bleeding from your mouth when you two collided in kisses, breathed on your wrist when you found him hunched and tired in his office, flashing on your cell’s screen, and written on his hand. That was the deal.

Though, Vox muffles a curse into his pillow, you certainly have been saying those words less now.

He moves his monitor off the pillow surface when the rain of the shower ebbs. When you came in, the scent he had picked up on you was thankfully not sex. Instead the scent of metallic blood clung to you like amber honey on a bear’s mouth. Your signature scent. Vark and his hammerhead brother were drawn to how deeply the smell was oiled and shampooed into your skin. Violence: a perfume tailored for you.

A hair-dryer starts up in the bathroom and Vox stops busying himself with sharpening the metal of his claws.

Still, even if sex was not a present scent, that didn’t mean you did not have it. The dark part of him stirs like a hive of bees. Foreplay for you is like a mimic of lions fighting a buffalo to eat her child. His purchases of new screen protectors and bandages increased when you two first kickoffed a relationship. So scent is not a good thing to completely go off on –

The sound of water returns. Ah, the sink faucet. Buried under the first sound, he can hear the tiny scrub of a toothbrush. Light leaks under the closed door. If you kiss him tonight (he hopes you will), he would be grateful for the smell of mint on your teeth. Mint and iron. Mint and iron and the possible burial of body sweat, sex.

You left VoxTek tower at 3 P.M. – in the middle of a weekday before anyone working there would dare to clock out – and then you returned to your shared bedroom at 3 fucking A.M. He should zap the information out of you.

It’s not cheating; it’s not cheating; it’s not cheating.

The bathroom door clicks open. A towel is thrown around your neck. Already dressed in your pajamas, a simple billowing pair of sweatpants and socks, you make your way over. Tiptoeing even though you know he is awake.

At the ping of you entering the building through surveillance cameras, Vox had started to gradually stir. He could not fake being asleep. As soon as the black on his monitor melted away to reveal blue, you knew he was awake. There is no acknowledgement of him from you. No hi honey or night Vox. And his face brightness is not dimmed below seventy percent so you know he is awake. Azure lighting filtering over sheets and floating in the air, you pull back covers to sink into bed, shirtless as was your habit. You turn your back to him, which has regrettably become a new habit.

He tracks his eyes over the canvas of your back. On it, mauve and ebony bruises are speckled. They are like lily-pads in a dark lake or a thousand eclipses lighting up a dark sky. Never an absence of bruises with you. Across the canvas, there are bisecting marks of sharp claws not made by him that cause him some stress.

Vox remembers once connecting all your bruises into constellations, shapes of animals and faces and other things, post-aftercare scrambling up his wires and guiding him do something so sinfully, sentimentally human. He remembers your laughter and whines at his cold claws on warm skin. Remembering not in a human way but in an electronic way, memories always fresh in his mind, recorded.

You were like a virus. The most prominent memories he has are ones with you.

Blue light slimes over your skin. Vox dims his screen in hopes you might turn towards him. No luck. He lifts up one sharpened claw to drag a line shaped like a cleft note from bruise to bruise. He goes to —

“Stop that. It hurts.”

He goes to do nothing. Defeated, Vox returns his hand underneath his pillow. Why are you acting like this? Why were you doing this to him? You must feel his eyes scrutinizing on the cusp of your shoulder. Moving, you do something that takes that dark, calamitous part of Vox and squeezes it like a dog clamping his teeth around a squeak toy, all the ink spilling over and soaping up his systems.

You inch to the edge of the bed, so close to falling off that you might as well leave altogether.

It’s not cheating. Vox rolls over and tries to sleep without dreaming.

You are a hired bodyguard for Valentino. Out of the ten bodyguards employed, you are closest to Valentino. Though you do not flank your boss all hours nor all week, you are seen most in the public eye out of the others employed to protect this pompous moth prince. This is because you are so efficient at your job.

It was that efficiency that drew Vox to even glance in your meaningless, background direction.

For a sinner demon, your physical appearance does not often stir up anything for anyone. Your employer did give you lipstick tubes a few times and perfumes for you to try. If Valentino said you had potential, he wanted you to embrace it. You politely declined but kept your gifts. To be honest, you are very plain. Your hellish form was disfigured to give the mimicking resemblance of an oni, a yokai, but most human features remained.

You had two physical differences that Valentino nettled you on showing off. One: golden spirals running down your arm like kintsugi art; two: a set of heavy, crimson horns growing from your temples. Every first of the month, Valentino mourned your horns.

January first, February first, March first, April first, and so on, you would grind down your horns. Equipped with a hacksaw and then a sander, it was a routine task for you. What could have grown gorgeously into carmine bighorn sheep’s horns were ruined to Valentino’s grief. You snipped them away like a disgruntled gardener. Like two red tree stumps, your horns sat on your head.

You went through with this cosmetic change for two reasons. You could not stand the look of a demon on yourself. Your horns were so heavy that they often disturbed how you moved.

“I could not kill your enemies if I am toppling over due to the heft of my horns,” you told Valentino and he conceded.

So unburdened by that obstructing weight, you did your job remarkably and accidentally captured Vox’s eyes. Sparked him, you joked. And then he came to agree and would say you shocked his heart – which often left you with warm cheeks. A relationship built all because someone grew obsessed over a pornstar and felt owed a performance, thus deciding to take it out on Valentino at one of his clubs.

It was nothing remarkable. You were not intimidated by the demon’s size despite the Vees awe. It was simply your job to do. If someone threatened Valentino, a bodyguard needed to react.

“But a runt like you being able to take down someone like that. What a treat you are, (Name)!” Sharp teeth flirted with you and the moth kissed your bloody cheek when it was all done.

You were not small in stature like an imp. You retained your human height. However, some sinners grew with the hellish transformation. Thus, a 7’ 6” demon was a spectacle against you who was very obviously not reaching that. Though, your hellish transformation had selected a different prowess of your physical form to alter: your strength. Fondly, you reflect on that day.

“Mr. Valentino! Sir!”

Valentino blinks behind his heart-shaped glasses. In front of him, the head of the sinner woman he was talking to gained a third eye. Valentino only blinks because as she slumps lifeless to the ground, her drink slashes on him, causing him mild stress. Then, he blinks a second time as you grab him by the waist, spinning him off the leather booth, a hole suddenly appearing in the exact spot his back was reclined on.

His lips upturn into a smile, amorous pinks and warm amber lighting raining down on his features. How theatrical you are! He mourns when your hands slide off his waist as you jump in from the shadows to do your job.

He distantly hears Velvette curse. She was sitting on his left so it is only natural she would be startled, so close to when the gunshots were fired. Valentino watches as you jump down from the high platform where the three Vees were sitting and watching the night’s performance before being rudely interrupted.

The demon is easy to make out in the crowd, Carmine-manufactured gun raised in his hand, standing at a height perhaps only three feet smaller than Valentino himself. He is not standing for long. You vault yourself over a table, kicking him down to a height you can reach and starting to take care of your job. Now, this is not as good as the performance on the stripper pole but is not half bad.

“Vox. Light,” Valentino says, turning to his right where the television demon is in a similar state as Velvette, but collecting himself. A cigarette hanging from a long cigarette holder is waved momentarily in his face.

“Thank you,” Valentino says and, smoking, watches.

There are a million tools you could be using – glasses from any of the nearby tables, the arm of a leg chair, Valentino knows you are skilled enough to grab the gun laying two yards across the club floor to finish this job. Yet, all you do is punch and punch, enjoying and savoring your job.

Raising your fist by your head, launching it down into the demon’s face. Again and again and again. Valentino watches with great delight how the speed at which the demon’s legs fail miserably underneath you wans off from panicked kicks to tired scuffling. Your knuckles are recolored. You raise back up your fist. You launch it back down into the concave space you are making. There is a nose, underneath that is a gorey sunken mess, underneath that is a disconnected, bottom jaw. The crimson warmth coating and nuzzling into your hand is a welcome feeling. You miss it dearly when the body underneath you eventually stills.

With a push, you stand back on your feet and start towards Valentino. He raises one of his four arms out to you – the upper right one drawing you in as he spins you excitedly on the platform. Valentino dips you and kisses you on the mouth, giving you the courtesy of blowing out his smoke first.

“Well done!” He pulls you back up into a standing position.

“It is my job, Mr. Valentino.” Your voice is monotone which isn’t too entertaining but it does not dampen Valentino’s cheer. “No need for praise.”

Your gaze briefly flicks over to the couch. Genuine scolding burns you up inside while looking at the hole in the leather booth, should have been quicker. You startle when you see one of Valentino’s associates staring at you. Was the television demon named Vel or Vox? Doesn’t matter.

Hating being ignored, a finger on your face tilts your gaze back to the heart-shaped glasses. Valentino leans down, humming at the side of your face when some gore must have billowed up from the mess you were making. “But a runt like you being able to take down someone like that. What a treat you are, (Name)!” Sharp teeth flirt with you and the moth kisses your bloody cheek; all of it done and all of it set in motion.

You will never know Heaven. After some tears, skin punched off your knuckles, and snowflakes of broken glass, you accepted this. You will never know Heaven and its comforts. This is a second Heaven.

Red rivers waterfalling over and down trembling fingers. Warm pain of a bruise kissing into an ankle or wrist like an amorous cat. A crack as the cartilage of bone is split like a pencil. Skin rubbed off like latex on a scratch ticket to reveal bone, blood, and fat. Bitten tongues elongating into red syrup; a black gap in the military cemetery of teeth; an eye rolling on the ground in a morbid game of golf. Blood and injury, a frequent lover of yours. All these wonderful experiences and sensations: backdropped by the sound of sinisterly supportive cheers from imps and sinners.

Your chance of redemption. Smoke billows off your lip and past your bloody nose. This is a chance to feel what Heaven could possibly be like. Redemption and honor made possible through violence, something you have known for a long time. A moral as ingrained in you as the gold rivulets falling down your arms.

Fiddling with your cigarette with your tongue, you busy yourself with wrapping white around your hands. Over the left and diagonal across the right – like a child practicing tying their shoes.

You finish your work, checking your compression is tight, when the door opens and a muscular hellborn demon with defined biceps walks in. “(Name).”

“Yeah?”

“Only three more minutes.”

“Got it.”

Vox will never know Heaven. This is nothing that causes him any grief. During his entrance into the realm – before he set up contracts, set up VoxTex, set up a reign of control – it had been a heavy stone to lay with until erosion crumbled it down to a pebble. He will not know Heaven; so fucking what?

He put so much stock in his business that it would be unfortunate for him to be pulled into heavenly gates. This was Heaven, not a second Heaven but Heaven itself. In the military march of obedient corporate slaves, a hymn. With the simple spiral of his right eye, he could get people to revere him. Proverb 15:3 says: the eyes of the Lord are in every place (every cellphone, house security system, every television and computer), beholding the evil and the good. Alastor gone and probably buried somewhere, Vox was on top of his game. Heaven was perfect until you started acting so strangely.

Something dark stirs in him in his news studio. His brain and eyes are wired to every device in the room. Vox turns from talking with the camera operator, words automatic as if they were pre-recorded. Even when you are concealing yourself in shadows, he can see you and when you step out of them, he wants to watch.

“Sir, is this a correct height for the trucking?”

“No, you’re doing it wrong,” Vox says without even turning his body to check the camera’s position.

His attention is raptured by you. As it always is. Woefully, he watches as you talk with Valentino in the corner, before another bodyguard with defined muscles, puts a hand on your shoulder. Vox does not even try to hide the abhor spark that flicks over him. He could hear everything perfectly from Valentino’s phone but it is nothing of use. You switch out a shift and are letting your boss know that you are clocking out. Simple, quotidian activities. Nothing of use to try and decipher where you go.

This is Heaven, Vox reminds himself, standing in Hell.

“Five hundred, nineteen.”

The room tilts and billows.

“Five hundred, twenty.”

There is something about pain that is so satisfying to you.

“Five hundred, twenty-one.”

If you could stay in pain, it would be as beneficial as a plant in sunlight.

“Five hundred, twenty-two.”

You – You, huh? – You turn your head to the side slightly. Blue light fruitlessly hides from you. Oh, he is awake. Releasing the tension from your muscles, your feet take a slight drop to the ground. You can finish the last of your six hundred and sixty-six pull-ups at a later time, you relinquish.

Just as you grab yourself a shirt, Vox finally decides to speak. It is a tone as if he is trying to gauge which version of you he will receive today: your old self or your new self. “Morning.” He rises up from the pillow and smiles dubiously. “You still have a bit more than a hundred to go.”

You stare at him. In his expensive, personally tailored pajama button-up. Him, with the hesitation in his eyes. Vox. Your Vox. Who despite the distance you have carved out, you are still incredibly fond of. You pull the shirt down over your abdomen and say, “Morning.” Slowly, you take a lazy walk to the side of your shared bed. “How do you feel,” you ask as you plant yourself down.

“Definitely felt better before,” he grins lopsided, trying to flash on some boyish charm. “Think you almost dislocated my shoulder.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I liked it.”

“Still, it’s not right of me.”

“...” Vox runs a hand up and down your thigh before lifting it up onto the bed.

“What is the agenda for today?”

“Let’s see. Marketing team has a change of manager which is gonna be a bitch to handle; we have a mid-morning segment to do on Velvette’s love potion; I have a 2 o-clock, a 4 o’clock, then a 5 o’clock; today is Friday so another Vox-2-Nite is scheduled. And that is all planned without any wiggling room. So if just one thing goes wrong –” At the mere thought, his voice starts to drop in octaves, prematurely vexed. World never seems to stop spinning, even when being below it.

“Sounds dreadfully long. Are you sure your charge will hold on through it?”

“I scheduled a fifteen minute break in there … somewhere.”

“Ah, yes, Vox’s infamous fifteen breaks. Ones that always get pushed off until the end of the day.”

“They aren’t so infamous when I have you there, forcing me to take company-policed hour breaks … You really have to stop doing that.”

“Well, you’ll have to trudge through today without me or an hour break. Valentino has me booked today, honey.”

“That fucking bastard,” Vox shimmers, cursing Valentino, and you offer a timid chuckle. You trail a calming hand up and down his arm. Throughout the conversation, he and you had fallen into the lotus sex position – just awfully more clothed and less sexy– one of the numerous you two had been tangled into last night.

Last night … your mind cannot help to wander to it and not fun wandering either. Two awful images keep spinning in your mind. One: the image of you grabbing his upper arm in the cowgirl position only to push too hard and hear a sickening crack from his shoulder, his screen malfunctioning. Thank your lucky star, it was just air bubbles. Two: in the middle of your rendezvous, the image of his screen turning black because you had taken talons and dug them amorously into his abdomen, your passionate action almost punctuating his colon.

You kiss under his monitor when Vox rests his chin onto your head, feeling the warmth of electronic currents mimicking a bloodstream long since retired. You let him stay that way for a while, enjoying his presence. It is a little better than finishing up those pull-ups.

“Hey, are we alright?”

Spoke too soon.

You stone up in his arms like a garden statue – ah, his arms. He has thought ahead and wrapped his arms around you, forbidding you from escaping this question. Well, you can still escape as you had no contract requiring you to answer his questions. Avoidant kisses are speckled past his poorly buttoned-up pajama top.

“(Name).”

At the stern tone coating him saying your name, you bite into his blue-tinted collarbone. Vox is expecting this so he does not even groan at the fresh assault on an already bruised neck. He lets you fight shy of this heavy conversation through your physicality. His pride is quite grand when he does not moan as you attack his particularly sensitive spot, just in the space between the vagus nerve and jugular vein.

“(Name).” You sweat cold when you realize Vox’s voice is still controlled and level, absent of a single glitch.

“Yes, honey?”

“Are we alright?”

“Why wouldn’t we be,” you avoid the question with a question and start to unbutton his pajama top.

“Because you’ve been leaving –” his voice glitches, just a slight temperament, but you jump onto the break in his words.

“Hey, Valentino’s working on,” you press a kiss to his dead heart, “on this new segment in his porn. And it’s got,” you bite down lightly on his nipple, “this really hot position in it,” you scold yourself when your fingers mess up on a button, “called the Valedictorian. I think we should try it.” You celebrate when you manage to undo the last button by sucking on Vox’s nipple.

“(Name).”

At least this time, when your name is said, Vox’s voice is wobbling. And, thus the arms around you are less like a steel cage and more like fragile icicles. Honestly, you could have broken out any time but you would rather slip out of his arms with humane strength.

And Valentino comes to the rescue twice in this eventful morning. Mentioned in name and then showing up in the ring of your phone. Vox is in such an amorous state that he only disconnects the incoming call after the third ring which means its presence has been heard and cannot be ignored.

“(Name).”

This time he says your name mournfully. You place a parting kiss to his throat. From his fragile arms, you slip away. “Duty calls,” you say and then leave as you have done for weeks now.

EXPANDING THE VEES REIN.

That is what the agenda for today’s meeting is, highlighted in bold in the most professional serif font, Times New Roman, and thrown up onto screen behind Vox’s chair. He had wrestled with that for a while, foolishly feeling like the intern he once was in the living world. Not that Valentino or Velvette would appreciate it. Crumpled papers littered his personal bedroom, alliterations and homophones scrapped. Absent from his usual sounding-board (your spot in bed empty), he had decided after frying his favorite mug that simple and cut-to-the-point was the way to go.

Expanding the Vees rein: how can they go about that, the next slide asked to a group of two. Well, don’t damage your dead brain too hard by thinking of that alluring question; Vox was already supplying the answers and then the execution. And he readily rambled on about it:

“Now this little beauty is called SPID. It stands for spider parodying intellect-gathering device. Spied and spider, see? The task of the SPID would be to lock onto anybody’s potential target, infiltrating homes and creating a web of information through this lens. If we refer back to slide thirty-three, we can see the previous success of –”

“Vox.”

The Overlord screeches to a halt. Not really paying attention if either Velvette or Valentino were paying attention, his name being said catches him by surprise. His claws pierce gently into the plastic molded around the spider device in his hand. The SPID is just one of the dozen he has brought in, all masquerading under the purpose of Expanding the Vees Rein.

A snarl appears on his screen. “Yes, Velvette?”

“How long have you and (Name) been together?”

It gives the Overlord pause for a moment. Gently, he takes his claws out of the back of the mechanical spider. Letting the tiny creature join the others on the conference table, Vox grumbles, “eight months, one week, three days.”

He onlys that so precisely because he has a detailed timeline of everything since his fall. Give him a precise date and year, no matter how far away, and he could tell you exactly what he had for breakfast. His memory was pristine.

“Isn’t that enough time for you to trust them? And enough time where we don’t have to sit through your spiraling insecure bullshit?”

With a laugh: “As you can see, Velvette, this meeting is the betterment of the Vees. If one does not always expand his monopoly, he leaves himself vulnerable to be subdued by another monopoly. Sooo – as I was saying, this spider is going to help us –”

“He’s just being pissy because he doesn’t have his little bebito/a under contract.”

The spark of electricity that flies over Vox’s entire body is violent. Volatile energy pulses in the air as formidable as a gun. This time (because he had already picked back up the spider) the SPID dies with a crunch in Vox’s claws. All eight legs twitch in the tiny thunderstorm inside Vox’s grasps. Vox is envisioning crushing a different insect though.

“Neither do yOU.”

“I might not have their soul, but I have their loyalty. Do you?” Vox can tell by the grin pulling up Valetino’s lips that he finds this remarkably humorous. Very pleased at himself that he knows something the Vox doesn’t.

“You FUCKING –”

“Hahahaha!”

They never get to go over the additional twenty-seven slides Vox had slaved over the night before.

“Mr. Valentino? Sir?”

The strap of your duffle bag is choked by uneasy hands. When the door had opened in the back alley of Voxtek’s towers, you had admittedly jumped like a startled cat and screamed like a kid on a rollercoaster. Even when greeting the familiar face of your boss, you are still a little nervous.

“Do you need me for something, Sir?”

Though you are off the clock, so Valentino really should not be down here. In the dirtiest part of the towers, in a small sliver of space ignored by security cameras. Which makes your apprehension completely valid.

“Can’t a man enjoy a smoke, bebito/a?” The uneasy wilts out of you as he pulls his cigarette holder from somewhere.

“Of course, Sir. I will leave you to it.”

“No, stay. That other demon is such a sloppy bodyguard.”

“Oh.”

“Light?”

“Of course, Sir.”

You take your place next to Valentino, his shadow. Looking down at the duffle bag, you judge that you can be a bit late. It is not like –

“Dunhill. Refined cigarettes, cinnamon and suet.” Pink smoke billows off tiny fire, slurring up into the air in the shape of sweet Valentine candy. It never fails to impress you with how delicately opulent it looks. “You know, the best cigarette is the first cigarette in the morning. The untouched, virgin cigarette after a night starved of them. Very new. Very Dunhill.

“I do not like owning second hand garbage, (Name).”

You feel your heart beat faster just a few seconds. That tone of voice is one you have never had directed at you. The straps of your duffle bag cry for release as you strangle them in a worried grip. “I’m aware, Sir.”

“Typically, when you get out of the hole, you do not go crawling back to it.”

“Yes, typically not, Sir.”

You two fall into silence. Where Valentino luxuriously leans against the brick wall, you fall back and dig your shoulders into the brick, making sure to feel the pain and burn of a bruise. At this moment, you can feel your heartbeat under the skin of your throat. You are sure Valentino can hear it too with how he is prolonging drags off his cigarette. Typically, you were not so afraid of Valentino – even now, your fear stems from the thought of Vox instead of Valentino. You wrestle with the thought of the repercussions if Vox knew you were crawling back into that hole as your boss said.

“Answer me this.” Smoke waterfalls off his lips and you look up. The Overlord slowly takes off his heart-shaped sunglasses and bends his height. “Are you being summoned there?”

“No, Sir,” you answer with your untethered soul still inside you, pounding away on your ribcage.

“Hm.” Straightening up to his height, Valentino smiles and puts back on his sunglasses. “Good.”

It is not cheating, Vox reminds himself as he hops from television in stores windows to telephone wire to smart watches. Those four words are a fire blanket coating over his damned soul. They keep him from exploding in fiery rage. Even when he reaches a point where he has reached the last electronic he can use, he repeats that … ugh, prayer … in his head. Sparking out of a telephone wire, Vox stands formidable on the ground, energetic from his frustration.

Then, he tries diligently to shrink and draw less attention to himself.

His screen brightness is dimmed to a submerged 16 percent, all of his notifications are thumbed over to off, and a gray hoodie is zipped over his red-and-black striped waistcoat: all the preparations for this espionage set into place. He had done exceedingly well keeping out of your sight while keeping you in his sight. Head down, Vox follows around the last corner you took.

Every city has its bad areas. Pentagram City has managed to exceed the limits for a bad area quite impressively here. He has to side-step some monstrous activities he would rather soon forget. The depth of red liquid staining his shoes would put to shame a wade in a cranberry bog. Violence swims in the air like a body fragrance.

There is a hole in the world like a great black pit and the vermin of the world inhabit it and its morals aren’t worth what a pig could spit. Vox recounts you saying that once; he pulls up the recording in his files, listening to your voice in the back of his head. Perhaps you have meant here rather than Hell.

Waiting thirty minutes inside telephone wires after you went in was painful. He had boiled over with the anxious energy of just wanting to follow you shoulder to shoulder. He knew better. So while watching you go down a flight of cement steps, past a black gate, into an apartment complex’s basement was like water in the wires, away from him, it was necessary. If you knew about his presence before he wanted to reveal it … well, he rather not clean up shit off fan blades.

This is just a simple check-up. An in and out operation. He just … He just needs to know what you are doing.

Vox cannot really wrap his head around why you are coming here. You are so much better than this cesspool – was it a kink of yours to socialize with the lowest of the low? Skirting around the gate and the door, he walks in uninvited.

No security checks? Really is the lowest of the low. Incredulous, Vox analyzes the place.

It is a lobby of sorts — a mock imitation of it and as close to organized as a hoarder’s house — and there is evidently a large gathering around a desk. There are some outliers standing to the sides of the room. To the far left are double doors, guarded by two well-built and muscular figures.

Black, jealous spirals appearing in his right eye, Vox turns back to the crowd to calm himself. This does not look like a sex dungeon but he can never be certain. He watched as people elect to shove knives into throats instead of shoving to move up into line. Receding into his body, he feels around for an electronic he can teleport in and out of.

Hm?

Hm.

No way.

There are zero electronics in this entire place. It gives Vox such whiplash he ogles at the place until he remembers to school his expression. No one even holds a phone in their back pocket. For the first time in his reign of control over technology, he cannot feel a single spark of anything.

Vox is knocked out of his stupor when some sinner pushes him, “fucking move or lose it, flat face.” and melts into the bloody crowd.

Metal claws curl up into his right palm. He schools that whet vehemence in his soul, knowing he sadly cannot cause a scene. No one knows of his presence. Probably the only praise-worthy factor of a town empty of technology. Joining into the crowd, Vox thinks on how he will find that sinner later. Electrocuting him until his eyes pour out of his sockets like rooibos tea is a calming image to feast on. His digital mind plots in great detail as he waits to reach the front.

— according to — the eutectic point, two solids have the same melting point, of the human skin and eyeball is — between 500 to 2000 volts kills — and saline — a sponge moistened with saline as a conductive jelly for electric currents — according to —

Vox is kicked out of his browsing of the internet when a phlegmy throat clears itself. He narrows his eyes in annoyance, finally stepping up to the seat of his mind and away from the waves of databases.

At least he was recording and listening to what others said before him: “I’ll have 80 on number 7.” Vox says, combining the numbers of two separate customers’ statements. Then, he pulls out his credit card from his slacks. Even under poor lighting, the ebony and gold surface shines pristinely.

The demon at the desk raises an eyebrow at him, “We don’t accept cards, newbie.”

They don't — huh! Even the Epirorium down in Cannibal Town accepted credit cards — credit cards were the most effective way to pay for anything! A quick transaction without the hassle of juggling coins and crumbled bills. He cannot help gritting his turquoise teeth in frustration.

“You cannot be serious.”

“No cards or phones. You’re already breaking one of the rules with that fucking Samsung you got as a head.”

“It’s a LG, not a Samsung.” He can feel his teeth grinding.

“I don’t give a fucking shit.” The demon deadpans. “Do you have any cash?”

Waste of space sinner; if his patience (his very small patience) keeps getting tested tonight, something is gonna go wrong. With a grumble, he searches around in his wallet. Credit card 2, credit card 3, credit card 4, a photo of you and him, credit card 5, cred— a measly five dollar bill. Slamming it down, Vox deepens the pitch and echo frequency of his voice, “Here you go. Five on number 7.”

Worthless piece of shit.

The demon clears their throat and then hands Vox his ticket. Knowing that is all he needs from observation, the Overlord makes a swift turn to the double door. What greets him is crowds upon crowds of sinners, imps, and hellborns. A stadium of sorts? Vox walks across the top floor, analyzing the circling structure of seats. No one is sitting in the seats but they cascade down in a cup-like structure into this eight foot drop where he can guess the entertainment is. Off the top layer floor, Vox finds a staircase and sedately starts walking down them. All the while he listens to the crowd:

“Kill them! KillthemKillthemKillthem!!”

“The stomach! Go for the stomach!”

“They’re getting destroyed out there. I bet my left eye on this, if they don’t win …”

“Cheater!”

So he was correct in assessing this was a gambling spot. A fighting arena of sorts … Vox thinks he is starting to get all the pieces put together when a loud voice, unamplified by any technology but still pristinely clear, yells, “THE WINNER!” The crowd explodes; Vox lowers his hearing and disturbs the charge into his eyes. His shoes click measured on the stairs. Metal claws grasp the railing and he leans forward, curious and suspecting.

“Announcing their one thousandth, two hundred and seventy-second win, it is our one and our only (Name)!”

Some skinny demon, smaller than Vox, raises your arm up by the wrist. The golden patterns on your biceps and latissimus glow like a fanning, spiraling wind-chime made of reflective metal. A Jason Pollock of red blood coats your body. Your hands however are thoroughly drenched in red, making the smaller demon’s grip unsteady and slipping. Your expression is tired and unsatisfied. Up and down, your chest rises in heavy pants. And though you look you could really use a nap, Vox thinks you still look stunning.

That is why Heaven felt so far away: in the news studio, in his bedroom, empty from the march of corporate slaves and the clicking keys’ symphony of obedience. Heaven followed after you.

“(Name).”

Like a dog, you growl around the material in your mouth. Why could he never leave well enough alone? Him and his annoying persistence to always be in your business like a second skin! When he starts pounding on the door, you kick it back hard in retaliation. Thump! Wood groans at the assault.

Glaring as your name is called again, you work. You had told him it would take five minutes and it had barely been two.

Forceps pinched between your teeth, you gently continue what you came in the restroom to take care of before your management interrupted. (Fuck, you were always under the thumb of someone, bending yourself to them always). Performing any type suture is vastly different when fake silicone skin was not geysering out a steady stream of blood. Pulling the needle holder towards yourself, you push your non-dominant away to lay the first knot. You watch as the loop of blue thread shrinks inch by inch. When the first knot is laid, you twist your hands to do the second knot.

“(Name)!”

“For fucks sake! I told you five minutes! Not two, not four! Five minutes!” You squeeze the forceps and needle holder in the same hand, harsh metal almost crushing under your grip. You have enough control to not break the tools you need to sew up your thigh. “Am I clear!”

“I don’t care how long it takes for you to get your rocks off. You come out right now. This crazy fan of yours is causing a fucking scene and I won’t have it. It’s either you or nothing.”

“You own the souls of thirty plus fighters! Get one of them to handle it!”

You look back down at your leg, trying to fruitlessly focus on your knots. Were you on the second or third?

Your management bristles and shouts back, door almost leaning into the bathroom with the weight of his frustrated voice, “you don’t think I’ve tried that! I don’t know how they managed to do it but no one landed a single punch on them. Like I fucking said, it’s either you or nothing.”

If you were not so equally frustrated, you would have taken a moment to absorb that information. Instead, only a fourth done with your interrupted sutures, you bite back, “unless they want me coming out there with my sweats down my ankles, tell them to fuck off!” You tried to keep profanity out of your words most of the time but this was too frustrating. Putting the forceps back in your mouth, you end the conversation.

There is a ghastly noise beyond the door. You startle on the toilet seat, the metal hurting your enamels with how your mouth tenses. It is the hollow thumping noise backgrounded by raining sizzles. There is a bloody cough. The raining sizzles billow then fall back, sound momentarily expanding then shrinking. A man’s electronic voice: “I’ve already seen that.” You bite the metal harder in denial.

“(Name),” Vox says.

Absent of your senses, your hands finally get the second knot tied – it is sloppy and unaligned to the first.

How? How did he possibly find this place? It is so off the grid of the Pride Ring that no maps or GPS know the name of it. It is a rumored place, absent of technology, that only the lowest of the low lived in. You have been so careful with triple checking your surroundings. No one on this side of town could afford a phone. No one on this side of town could afford to ever get out of it.

You will never forget meeting Valentino. Long ago, he seemed supernatural and uncanny. Luxury branded cologne burning your nose and pink cigarette smoke irritating your lungs. Everything, the affluent aspects of him, down to his self-possessed smile was something alien and frightening to a sinner like yourself who never experienced the sight of wealth.

Valentino had been right about it being a hole one would never want to crawl back into. Comparing past and present, you were comparing an orphan on the streets to a prince in the castle. It was obviously better to choose the laps of luxury you had fallen into, content and chesired.

Yet home called to you and you, the bitch, came back.

You stare hard at the bathroom door separating you and Vox. Blood runs down your left thigh to floors that have never seen a mop. If there is a way to downsize yourself into abysmal nothingness, you yearn for that ability. To shrink away … you wish you could. Slowly, you take the forceps out of your mouth and hold them tight in your lap. Seems like you are going to have to address the open wound.

“Vox.”

“Can I come in, doll?”

Two things. You wholeheartedly hate two things about his question. The nickname, doll, implying you could be anything like porcelain skinned dolls; then, the fake shyness in his voice, trying to seem meek when Vox is far from that. “No, you can’t. In fact, I think you should leave.” You can smell the mounting violence.

“(Name), please. I just want to know what the problem is.”

“There’s no problem. We’re fine.”

“If we were fine, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Well, I’m fine with me being here, so you’re just going to have to find it within yourself to accept that.”

You surmise this is it. This is going to be the first argument of the relationship. The catalyst of whether you two were going to spark with a negative or positive charge, growing or dying from this verbal fight. Physical fights are your raison d’etre. Now you shift to a wrestling ring. Amputated from the burden of your hands and left with your mouth. Eyes drawn to your lap, you are unsure if you are going to win this.

“You’re obviously upset over something.”

“I’m not.”

“(Name).”

“Vox.”

“Why can’t you – UGH!” You can tell by the start of his sentence it would erupt into volcanic static and electricity. All the hair on your arms and exposed thighs rise as he sends a wave of energy at something beyond the stall. Good. Physicality you can handle. You wait patiently for Vox to knock down the door. “Do you want us to be public?” Your body locks up, spine pressing hard into the manual flusher behind you. Why – Why is he trying to gauge what has you upset!

As you are reeling from his question, your mouth remains shut. Vox, taking silence as a negative, asks, “are you upset about my past with Valentino because we both have a past with him!” He jumps back when the door thumps and bends with the force of your kick. “Okay, wrong choice of words. Just – ugh! Are you upset about my past with Valentino?”

“I’m not upset over that.”

“Sinners don’t just leave their home from 3 P.M. to 3 A.M. unless they’re upset over something, doll.”

“I’m truly not upset over anything,” you insist. You really need to get back to your sutures before anything has the chance of getting infected. “Vox –”

“Okay, I’ll stop hacking into your phone!” He shouts in defeat.

“You'll stop what!” This time you kick without holding back any of your strength. The locking mechanism splinters down the middle like a wafer cracker. You feel a little victorious in this match when the door hits him in the shoulder, his startled jump just a bit too slow to avoid getting hit.

“Unholy fuck!”

“My phone,” you bite at him, eye to eye finally. Vox and his Big Brother is Watching complex is one of his worst traits. “You’ve been hacking into my personal phone like I told you never to do.”

“You told me never to do it because of trust. How am I supposed to trust you when you leave for twelve hours in the middle of random nights like you’re on a booty call schedule,” Vox bites back. His red sclera are pointed down, resembling the shape of orange slices with how deeply cut his glare is. Defensiveness is written into each twitch of his body.

“What, you thought I was cheating on you?”

“What else was I supposed to think!”

That shuts you up. Your temperature on your face rises with each inch of shame that eats at you … well what else was he supposed to think. The image of him, lying in your shared bed alone, head swimming with sharks of queries about your relationship, paints itself in your mind. Eyes down, you concede that that thought of cheating was warranted. Relationships are built on trust. That principle rule is often why relationships fail in Hell. Trust from sinful liars was as valuable as a rock painted gold. Cheating? … Yeah, you cannot blame him there.

“It’s none of that, Vox. I wasn’t upset about any of that and I’m not cheating on you.”

Even when you cannot look at him, he can tell by the frequency and pitch of your voice that you are telling the truth. A few advanced polygraph technology moves into his right eye, scanning you for any sign of a lie. “I would never cheat on you.” In your chest, your heart beats. Eighty-three beats per minute, completely at rest, completely truthful.

Vox feels awful, finishing up with analyzing your heartbeat. He feels like he has just given a public report wrong on live television and he can feel the social media downfall already materializing in the air; he feels sick to his stomach. And yet he is still mad because, “Why did you not talk to me about this?”

“I was ashamed; and a little scared.” You bite your cheek. “I was ashamed and scared about you finding this place for the longest time.”

Vox raises an eyebrow. “You think I would judge you for needing to blow off steam?”

“This place is beneath you. I know exactly what was going through your head when you entered here: this place is the worst of the bad or this place is the lowest of the low.” Vox inhales through gritted teeth and you know that you hit the bullseye. “I couldn’t just bring you here. You would have been disgusted. And … and that would have led to you eventually being disgusted by me.”

There it is. You guess that is all you really can give him. Still, Vox is looking at you like he does not understand you. He is probably deducing that his past self could have overlooked this revolting place like a lover overlooks an ugly birthmark or stretch-marks. This was not a minor impurity.

“I fell here.”

Understanding dawns upon Vox’s face like a gleam on sunrise. Falling … the spot where one fell was sentimental, perhaps not in fondness but certainly in a consequential way. A fool only dares to insult the spot where a sinner has fallen, their second home.

In a sinister way, this is a homecoming for you. And – sending a wary glance to the bathroom door while he leans into the stall – Vox has realized he committed an illicit act on the same par as perhaps punching your brother or sister. Even if you hated your co-workers?, the sentiment remains.

The live broadcast analogy is frivolous. Vox feels like he is an intern who just spilt coffee on the front of his boss’s suit a minute before the higher-up was scheduled for a momentail meeting. The burn in his stomach is paralyzing.

“I-I uh,” Vox stammers. Little sparks are jumping up his body like happy stars. Frustration that mistakenly looks playful. He moans out, “Fuck, (Name).” and leans heavily on the stall’s inside wall.

You chuckle humorously and finally look up. “Yeah. I know.”

“I guess I get … the secrecy now.”

“I’m sorry for not coming clean. Even if this is a really bad hole, it is my hole.” Vox smiles at you, fondly without his previous hesitation. You know by that smile alone that you two are going to survive your first argument. However, you do not want the conversation to shift away from the thesis. Now that you two have finally managed to start it, there is so much that you have to say. “Vox?” He stares in attention. “... We’ve become domestic, Vox.”

“That bad, doll?”

“It’s awful.”

“...”

“I worry – I worry all the fucking time – about hurting you.”

“I’m an Overlord, you’re a sinner. It is a little insulting that you would think –”

“But I do! Every minute, I just worry and worry,” you interrupt, pressing a hand to your chest to emphasize those words. All your hands have managed to do are kill and maim and injure. Fighting quelled your hands. You were positive that if you drained your hands to the point of exhaustion it would keep Vox from getting hurt. “I’ve never been gentle – I’m awful – and I –!”

Vox kneels down on unwashed ground, covered in blood and piss, in his freshly tailored, iron-pressed slacks. Your dead heart pounds at that.

Then, Vox says three little words that you two have decided to put the coin of trust into, paying the fare to a relationship that both of you wanted to keep. “Hey,” he says to snap you out of your thoughts. Then, as he slowly takes the tools out of your hands, Vox says, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

As he helps you with your sutures, you still remember when Vox and you had finally said those three little words that built up your relationship. Your contract. One that in a way was not really a contract at all.

I love you. He had said that for the first time when you were checking his grammar for a broadcast. Highlighters and colored pens laid scattered on the ruffled sheets. You had been crossing out the tailing end of a sentence. Eight words stretched out when he only needed three to hammer home his point. You crossed out fifteen words in surprise. In Hell, he is akin to a shark and you are akin to a goldfish. Even so. Sometimes I think love and violence are the same thing. You had meant that as warning but he just leaned into you, biting your tongue when you two kissed.

Accepting that part of you.

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