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shewroteaworld · 7 months

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I'll Hold Your Weight When You Can't

Premise: Brilliant sunshine!reader gets heat stroke on a case. Your best friend, Spencer Reid, is predictably worried about you. What he doesn't expect is to be forced to come to terms with his feelings for you.

Word count: approx. 3,200

TW: Brief mention of vomit and, perhaps, hospitals

(Y/N/N): Your nickname

Author's Note: Super excited to introduce brilliant sunshine!reader (aka, super smart sunshine!reader) onto my fanfic writing scene! Definitely willing to write more of her in the future if anyone is interested. Hope you enjoy!

“Does anybody have more water?”

“Where is the damn ambulance?”

Perhaps your job classically conditioned you to respond to Hotch’s “I’m seriously not fucking around” tone because your eyes crack open.

Someone put weights on your eyelids and cranked the sun to extra-bright. The harsh rays burned your retinas and washed everything in a white blur. Did someone set off a flash bang?

“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?” Miraculously, out of the screeching white, you made out JJ’s halo of blonde hair.

“JJ?” You groaned. Even though you could barely see, it felt like the whole world was spinning,

“Hotch, she’s coming around!” You recognized Morgan’s voice. “Welcome back to the world of the living, honey. We’re happy to see you.”

Your heart rate spiked. You never died. Did you die?

“Yes, we still need a medic!” Hotch barked.

You winced. “Wha?” Suddenly, your mouth couldn’t handle a one-syllable world. Even more alarming, your brain, the same brain that kept up with Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid, couldn’t understand what the hell was going on.

“What I do?” You whined.

“He’s not yelling at you, honey,” JJ said like a kindergarten teacher. “You’re just a little out of it right now.”

“Is she conscious?” Another voice entered. Your head spun. “I brought more water.”

You moaned to suppress a gag. Your eyelids drooped, and you relished in the break from the light.

“Hey, smarty pants, stay with us.” Morgan pat your cheek. “Let Emily get some water in you.” You couldn’t force your eyes open more if you tried.

Your friend Emily. That’s who the voice belonged to.

Suddenly, JJ pulled your hair from your face, Morgan lifted your head, and Emily forced a water bottle to your lips simultaneously. The blinding glare seared your eyes and your head spun. You wanted to sob and maybe vomit.

Your chest hitched with a shallow inhale. “Stop.” You whined.

“(Y/N), it’s okay. Take a deep breath.” JJ said.

“No!” You exclaimed.

“Honey–” Morgan tried.

You thrashed against his hold, but your exhausted muscles couldn’t throw Morgan’s gentlest grip.

“Maybe we should let her go.” Emily said.

“She needs water.” JJ countered.

“She’s disoriented.” Hotch cut in. “Let her get her bearings first, but don’t let her close her eyes.”

Gingerly, Morgan lay your body back on the grass. Your head swam, and your vision rippled as if you could see the heat waves in the California air. You tried to take a deep breath but choked.

You sputtered. Every inhale led to a series of dry coughs. In your delirium, you thought of Spencer. Your Spencer. Where the hell was he? Did he not love you anymore?

Suddenly, Hotch loomed over you. His tall frame blocked out the brutality of the sun’s glare, which eased your headache and nausea but not your cough. His eyebrows were so deeply furrowed they formed a trench of wrinkles across his forehead. “Check her airway.”

Suddenly, you stared into JJ’s blue eyes. Other hands tried to manipulate your body. You jerked.

“(Y/N), relax.”

“Honey, please–”

“Turn her on her side!” Morgan’s cut off by Reid, his voice sharper than you’d ever heard.

***

Spencer Reid has survived many traumatic situations.

He's cared for his schizophrenic mother. He’s been kidnapped. He recovered from a drug addiction. And those are just a few items from his dissertation-length “PTSD-Causing Experiences” list.

But many of his worst traumas were a by-product of being a profiler– a job which allowed him to utilize his intellect to help others. He was willing to accrue trauma like Pokemon cards in exchange for applying his genetic gifts to create a safer world.

Reid could have framed your heat exhaustion as another scare in the line of duty. But when Reid saw you, his brilliant girl, on the ground, his heart fell through his feet.

Then, he saw how his the team responded to your medical emergency.

When he witnessed you coughing and writhing on your back as the team leered over with water, he thought he might explode.

You could be asphyxiating, and the team could be letting you choke while forcing more fluid down your throat.

He shivered as he sprinted down the steps of the local precinct and onto the grassy field where you lay.

“Turn her on her side!” He yelled as diagnoses and courses of action fled through his mind on hyperspeed.

“We’re trying, she—”

“Spence?” You choked out through a coughing fit. He’s surprised his ears caught it.

Reid knelt next to you. “Let’s get you into recovery position.” He said, his voice suddenly soft as clouds. Reid gingerly pushed you onto your left side. “Off your back, there we go.” He bent your right leg and slid it in front of your body to prevent you from rolling onto your stomach if you lost consciousness.

“Did she faint?” Reid asked the team. He couldn’t take his eyes from your face.

“We think so. She was dizzy, so she laid on the ground. Then she was unresponsive for at least 40 seconds,” Emily said.

Spencer pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. Predictably, you were feverishly hot. “She’s burning up. Has someone called an ambulance?”

“Allegedly.” Hotch said, an edge to his voice.

“We have, sir. They’re on their way.” A local police officer responded, exasperated.

Spencer’s eye twitched. “How long has she been down?” You whined, and he stroked your cheekbone with his thumb.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He whispered.

“In total, 15 minutes.” Hotch supplied. “Emily, pour some more water on her.”

“This was for her to drink.”

“Use one bottle to pour on her face and neck.” Spencer said. “I ran and got Gatorade. She should start with sips of that when she can swallow. Heat stroke can also be caused by salt depletion.”

Spencer was conversing with a local officer over the safety protocols in the area when a pair of policemen walked into the precinct, gossiping about the FBI agent who “folded fast in the southern Cali heat.”

Spencer’s jaw had clenched. Maybe one of his team members was ill since they put in most of the grunt work to catch the unsub. He would’ve been more annoyed if not for the worry gnawing at his brain. What if they were talking about (Y/N)? She looked a little shaky right after her chase with the unsub, but Spencer didn’t get a chance to ask his friend if she was alright. And, stupidly enough, he forgot to text her to check if she drank any water post-case. Quickly, Reid excused himself, grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge, and rushed to the field where your limp body trembled on the grass.

“I’m going to pour some water on you, honey," Emily said. You flinched as the frigid water hit your hairline.

“Breathe, relax.” Spencer said, shielding your nose. The last thing you needed was some accidental waterboarding.

Seconds after the water drenched your forehead, your whole body relaxed into the grass. “That felt good.” You smiled weakly.

Spencer stroked your arm. “Let’s sit you up in a minute, okay? You should try some Gatorade before the EMTs get here.”

“EMTs? I’m fine.” You whined.

Spencer didn’t think it was possible for his eyebrows to crease further.

“You’re not fine.” Gentler, he said, “and it’s okay not to be fine, sunlight.”

“But, I’m alive.” You tried to roll onto your stomach, but your bent leg kept you safe on your back.

Some on the team members chuckled, but Spencer didn’t find your delirium humorous. “I know you’re alive, sweetie. But you’re way too hot. I think you’re a little confused right now.”

“I’m just…” You winced. “I’m alive.”

The knot in Spencer’s chest tightened ten-fold. This could be heat stroke. At the very least, you had heat exhaustion. You were dehydrated. You were delirious.

Best case scenario: you were ill for a few days. Worst case scenario: You had vital organ damage.

Just as he’s about to call 911 himself, JJ interrupted him. “Look–ambulance lights. Help is on the way, honey.”

“You hear that, (Y/N)? You’re gonna be fine.” Morgan said. If only Spencer felt that confident.

“Spence…” You blocked your eyes from the light with your limp right hand. “I’m scared. I don’t feel well.”

“Oh, (Y/N), I know.” He cupped your shoulder and hoped you could feel his love for you through his palm. That sent a jolt down his spine. He wasn’t supposed to comfortably think those thoughts about you.

You were sick. This wasn’t the time. He leaned over your body. He gave you plenty of breathing room, but his torso was parallel to your hip so his eyes could meet your watering ones. “Hey, take a breath for me, Smartie.”

Your nickname for him slipped from his tongue so easily it spooked him. Suddenly, he noticed his thumb stroking over your cotton t-shirt. He should stop. The whole team was watching. He was being was too intimate; he'd face stupid quips from Morgan for days. He kept stroking anyway.

He observed your chest rise and fall. Your breaths were shaky but deeper. He relaxed a tad. Vital oxygen was reaching your bloodstream.

“(Y/N), can we try something?” Spencer asked.

“Yes. Maybe. What is it?”

The knot in his chest loosened. You responded immediately and with more than two words; you were becoming more lucid.

“Can you sit up and have some sips of Gatorade? I got your favorite flavor. At least, if your favorite flavor hasn’t changed from three years ago.” It most likely hadn’t. Once your opinion settled, it was frustratingly hard to erode your verdict.

“I can’t…I don’t know.”

“I know sitting up is hard. I’ll help you. And I’ll prop you against my chest. I’ll hold your weight when you can’t.”

“KK, Spence.” Your childlike tone tugged at his heart strings.

Spencer and Morgan lifted your limp body from the ground. They manhandled you into a sitting position with your head propped on Spencer’s shoulder and your body tucked between his thighs.

One of his arms stabilized you while the other raised a cold bottle of orange Gatorade to your lips.

After nine sips of Gatorade, you spoke again.

“Orange.” You took another sip. "My favorite.”

He smiled into your hair. “When have I ever lied to you, (Y/N/N)?”

***

Spencer nearly created a crater in the linoleum floor of the ER waiting room with his bouncing heel by the time the doctor came back with an update.

“She had a mild case of heat stroke. We currently have her on fluids, and she’ll need lots of rest for at least the next week.” Doctor Bahamani concluded.

“No signs of metabolic dysfunction? Any respiratory distress?” Reid checked.

Doctor Bahamani smiled knowingly. “She’s going to be just fine, Doctor Reid.”

“Can I see her?” Spencer asked.

“Yes. Only two at a time, please.”

Spencer didn’t care who volunteered with him. He moved without thinking. An outpouring of gratitude for his eidetic memory flooded him. Through the thickest brain fog, he could trust his recollection of the hospital to bring him to the correct hospital room.

The security staff practically had to drag him away from your bedside after the ambulance ride. They might have thrown him out of the ER if not for the flash of his FBI badge.

Something nagged at him as he sped past the nursing station.

You were going to be fine. The ER doctor confirmed it. Yet his heart was still pounding and he could barely refrain from running. Even more odd, he wasn’t ashamed of his irrational behavior.

So what if a doctor deemed you were okay? It was you. And he saw you groggier and more out of it than you'd ever been. And who knows how thorough the doctors were with their examination? It was completely reasonable to worry for one of his closest friends.

He just couldn't believe you were alright until he checked you over with his own hands and his own eyes.

***

When you grinned at him from your cot, Spencer wasn’t sure whether to smile or cry.

Tears glazed your eyes. But, your gorgeous smile was back.

“Spencer?” You asked, brow raised and head cocked.

He’d been staring too long. He looked like an idiot, lamely standing in the doorway as if he were the one with heat stroke.

“Straighten your head. Your neck is probably tight.”

You smiled, but this time it was tight-lipped and painful-looking. “You’re too worried.”

He watched saline drip down your IV. “Of course I’m worried, (Y/N). You got heat stroke.” With a deep breath as a shot of courage, he sat in the chair by the head of your bed.

There was nothing odd about sitting with his best friend at the hospital.

His chest twisted at “best friend” and his resolve collapsed. He couldn’t deny it anymore.

He liked you. He really, really liked you. He actually might even–

“Luckily, I got out pretty unscathed.” You snapped Spencer out of his spiral. “A little dehydrated. Achy. Might feel sick for a few days.”

“Or weeks.” Spencer corrected.

“Trying to look on the bright side here, Doctor.” You smirked and Spencer swore his right ventricle tightened.

Then, your nose scrunched and Spencer's wiped clean of any concern about his cardiac health.

“What hurts?”

“Just a little achy, Spencer. I’m alright.”

He shot you a look. He knew all your excuses. He knew you went to self-harming lengths to not worry people.

“You’re not alright.” He reached for the red nurse-call button.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Okay…my body aches, Spence. And the IV burns. But they’ve already told me that’s normal. No need to take nurses away from an emergency.”

The nurses at the station desk didn’t appear to be rushing around for anyone, but Spencer feared this wouldn’t behoove his case.

“They can give you pain medication, if you want.”

You hesitated, and immediately Spencer pressed the button. When you smiled weakly instead of bickering, his worry grew tenfold but not without a rush of heat flooding his entire body.

In Morgan's words, he’s down bad.

“How are you doing, sunshine?” As if he’d been summoned, Morgan appeared in the doorway.

Spencer stepped back from your cot. The part of him riled from Morgan’s “sunshine” moniker wants to shove his hand into yours. Spencer thought he hid his annoyance well, but something about Morgan's smirk told him otherwise.

“Um…”

Morgan’s smirk fell. “You feel that bad, huh?”

You chuckled sadly. “Do I look that shitty or am I an open book today?”

“You never look shitty,” Spencer said. A tsunami of blood rushed to his face.

“Anyway,” Morgan said, “Do you want anything, Beauty Queen? I can grab you some jello.”

“Jello sounds nice.” You said, and something in your voice was so vulnerable and naive Spencer wanted to wrap you in his arms as tight as he could. Which was illogical. That would only hurt you further.

He shook his head as if that would remove the thoughts from his mind. “I’m gonna see if I can check up on your labs at the nurse’s station. I’ll make sure they’re giving you the good drugs.” He smiled.

You laughed– a genuine laugh– and Spencer’s heart soared. “Thanks, Spence.”

“I’ll go grab your jello,” Morgan said.

“Hold on, you should stay with her just in case she needs anything," Spencer said.

“I’ll be fine, Spence.” You said, but Spencer was not prepared to take "no" for an answer.

“If you boys wants to run her some errands, I’ll stay.” Emily stood in the doorway. “JJ is coming soon too– she just got a phone call from a very frantic Penelope.”

Your nose crinkled. “Oh no.” You groaned, but you were smiling.

“Oh, yes. Be prepared for some mother henning," Emily said.

“Garcia can’t be any more mother henning than Reid," Morgan said.

Before his face could turn redder than a baboon’s bottom, Spencer fled.

He’s only two yards from the nursing station when Morgan intercepted him at the end of the hall.

“So, you’re going to make your move, right?”

Spencer's body temperature plummeted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He tried to shoulder past Morgan, but he was no match for his grip strength. “Reid, c’mon. You like (Y/N).”

Part of him wanted to laugh. “Like” seemed too simple of a word to describe the symphony of feelings (Y/N) started in him. “It’s…” He’s too tongue-tied to lie. “It’s complicated.”

You’re brilliant. You’re beautiful. You’re brimming with empathy. You’re everything Spencer could want. And it scared the shit out of him. Because that meant there’s even more to lose. And if he lost you, there would be no one to blame but himself. It was better for his psyche to not go there with you– to step back from the line rather than risk what would happen if he failed to make it work in the end.

And what if you got hurt? What is you fell in the line of duty? Or worse, what if someone targeted you because of your romantic tie to him? Spencer's already experienced the pain of losing a soulmate-- a concept he wasn't even sure he believed in-- once. He wasn't not sure if he could survive it a second time.

There was too much unpredictability in his life. He chose a dangerous profession. He was gifted a ticking time-bomb of dangerous genes. He’d never forgive himself if he inflicted onto you the pain he’s been through; losing loved ones, whether through death or mental illness.

Morgan's expression turned sympathetic. “Reid, you should give it a shot. Our lives our hectic. And if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.”

Spencer blinked to block tears from welling. “I just want her to be happy, too.”

“And who says you don't make her happy?”

“His idiotic genius brain.” Rossi appeared from around the corner.

Spencer froze. “You heard?” His face flushed yet again.

“Just the tail end. But Reid…” He trailed off.

Morgan took the hint. “I’m going to get (Y/N) some jello. With my charm, I could negotiate for some whipped cream.”

“Don’t get whipped cream on it. She’s lactose sensitive,” Spencer said.

Morgan's stupid smirk reappeared. “Gotcha, Reid.”

Rossi took Morgan's place. Once Morgan was out of sight, he began his speech. “You love her. Don’t get in your own way.” Rossi put his hand on Reid’s shoulder. “And (Y/N) is an incredibly intelligent woman. Don’t insult her intelligence by thinking she can’t decide who is or is not worth taking a risk. And for what it’s worth…a man like you is worth the risk.”

Rossi left Reid staring at his back.

For the longest time, Reid convinced himself he refrained from asking you out to protect you from himself and his hefty baggage. And that’s not completely untrue.

But suddenly, he realized he was primarily trying to protect himself from exposing his vulnerabilities to you this whole time. There’s never been a person whose opinion affected him like yours. There's never been a life he's wanted to protect more except perhaps...Maeve.

But just like it’s up to you to decide who’s worth the risk, it’s up to him to decide as well.

And if today taught him anything, shit happens. And if you slip through his fingers, he doesn't want it to because he wasn't brave enough to make a first move.

And being your person was more than worth the risk of rejection.

Author's Note: Thank you to so much to everyone who stuck around through my hiatus! I appreciate every single one of you! You're super cool :)

Happy to be back! Inbox is open to chat about writing and take requests! Please check pinned "Blurb Requests" post before requesting! (Will update the post as my boundaries update!)

Have an awesome day or night, wherever you are in this crazy world. I am incredibly thankful you spent part of your precious life reading something I penned.

Forever grateful,

shewroteaworld

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot

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atsumulogy · 2 years

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WHEN YOUR CO-WORKER CALLS HIMSELF YOUR “WORK HUSBAND”

synopsis: how he reacts to your co-worker calling himself your “work husband”

featuring: miya atsumu, oikawa tooru, & iwaizumi hajime. fem!reader.

content warning(s): jealousy, possessive boys, weird co-worker, suggestive at iwa’s part 😵 sorry my hands slipped lmao. also grammar mistakes … have mercy i wrote this kinda half asleep + use of wife

naia’s footnote: yk that work wife thing? yeah, that but with a twist with the hq men 🤭 jealous scenarios are my guilty pleasure LOL i wrote this when i was supposed to be doing smth actually productive 😓‼️also i got carried away w atsumu’s haha

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! rb’s & likes are appreciated

#01 — WHEN COMING AS YOUR PLUS ONE IN YOUR OFFICE’S FANCY EVENT, MIYA ATSUMU didn’t want to admit it but he kind of expected to be fawned over by your female colleagues — not that he wanted them to! It’s just … expected, seeing how absolutely hot your husband is (the expensive suit and tie and all). What he did not expect was being introduced to your … what was it? Ahh, yes, “work husband”.

The absolute audacity and sheer nerve of this bastard to call himself that in front of him, the actual husband on the documents and in your heart.

Work husband. He scoffs silently, face scrunching up in irritation, poking his cheeks with his tongue instead of making a fuss in this exclusive event where lots of important people are present. As much as he cares for obliterating this man in front of him, he cares more about you and didn’t want to cause you any issues with your workplace.

(Though, if this ugly scrub touches your arm again and joke about Atsumu being the side chick, he wasn’t so sure that he wouldn’t cause a scene.)

Besides, the 24 karat gold necklace hanging around your neck with his initials attached to the chains and the elegant ring on your finger makes it painfully clear that your self-proclaimed work husband has no chance against the Miya Atsumu.

BONUS:

Atsumu may have acted mature about the situation while in the event, but behind closed doors he was whining and grumbling about that annoyin’ scrub.

“— like I still can’t believe he had the guts to say that in front of me!” He scoffs, face scrunching up again, his mouth forming a scowl. “Work husband… tsk, i’m yer only husband! hell, i’ll be yer work husband, house husband, and every other fuckin’ husband title there is!”

Instead of informing your husband that it doesn’t work like that, you nod to every word he said every time he looks at your eyes to back him up on his rant.

“Yes baby, I know. Now why don’t we get you a trophy with all those husband titles, hm?” You jokingly offered, patting his fluffy blonde hair.

Next week a package arrived carrying a shiny gold trophy with the words “Miya Y/n’s only house husband, work husband, and everything else in between” customized on the front <3

#02 — OIKAWA TOORU SCOFFED AFTER SOME IRRELEVANT, MEDIOCRE, UGLY MAN introduced himself as your “work husband”, somewhat offended because someone dared crown themselves a self-proclaimed title as your work husband — like that bastard is even worthy enough to be breathing the same air as you!

He recognizes this man to be the man you ranted to him about that was inappropriately acting like he’s close with you and many other women of your office.

Wanting to do you and the other women of your office a favor, he decided to humble him.

“Last time I checked, there was no side piece. And if there were to be a side piece — which will never happen by the way! — my wife would pick someone better looking than you. As you can see she has great taste, since she married me and only me. But you should know that by now, hm? Our wedding was even on the news!” showing the ring on his finger, wiggling it even to show emphasis, his tone and his (threatening) smile was friendly, but you all know that it was anything but that.

Oikawa Tooru is an intimidating opponent, both in and out of the court.

#03 — NEVER IN HIS 25 YEARS OF LIVING HAS IWAIZUMI HAJIME met a more annoying and repulsive person such as the man in front of him that cockily and casually called himself as your “work husband”.

You felt his beefy arms tighten around your waist, he leans in to you closely, his hot breath heating up your ears as he asked you with low voice, however still (purposely) loud enough for the guy in front of you two to hear. “Baby, do you even know him?”

You nodded, “He’s just some guy in the finance department who’s really weird, Hajime. I don’t even remember his name. Sato? Aoki?”

The man before you deflated, his cocky stance nowhere to be seen as he scoffs defensively, “It’s Nakamura —”

“— Yeah, sure, well my wife and I have somewhere else to be now. So goodbye Ishikawa-san.” He purposely used a different name — politely even, to mock him and push his buttons.

“It’s Nakamu —”

“Bye Sato-kun!” You played along with your husband’s petty antics, waving him off before locking your arms around Hajime’s before snuggling close to him as you two walked away. The both of you bursting out laughing once you guys think the guy was far away enough to not hear you two.

“Have you seen his face! He deserved that humbling experience!” You snorted, Hajime rolling his eyes as he remembers the guy.

“Okay but who even is he really? Is he always so flirtatious with you? What even is a work husband? Last time I checked, I’m the one who gave you that new last name of yours.” He grumbled, irritated at the thought of that bastard flirting with you at work when your husband wasn’t there.

“Aw, babe, you know that you’re the only one for me.” you patted his cheeks affectionately, smiling at him while giggling.

He does. He knows it, a bit too well at times. So he sighs and he lets it go. Because he knows that at the end of the day, he’s the one you come home to, he’s the one you cling onto while watching your favorite shows, he’s the one that rests his free hand on your thighs whenever you two go for a drive.

And tonight, he’s the one that will lay you down on the bed and touch you, talk to you, and feel you in ways that only he can do.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x you #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #atsumu fluff #oikawa fluff #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu drabbles #hq x reader #haikyuu!!

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ameliathornromance · 4 months

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A Whole New World - Short Orc Romance

- When your Orc found you, you were in your Church with your other sisters of the cloth.

- They all prayed to the Gods.

- Gods that they wished would come, strike down these beasts who threatened your lives.

- The Church doors were difficult to get open, but your Orc did it. The doors burst off the hinges, crashed into the pews.

-Your sisters all took off running, leaving you behind.

- You tried to follow, but ended up tripping over your robes, falling on your front.

- Your Orc stormed towards you.

- You try to scramble away, desperate to escape your oncoming death, but it was no use.

- He was too big, too quick.

- You close your eyes, expecting a bludgeoning with that horrifying club he had clutched in his hand. You raise your hands above your head and cower for your life.

- Any moment now, any second now, he is going to bring that club down on your head.

- But nothing came.

“They left you.”

You squint open your eyes. Between your arms, you stare at him. His expression pained, his endless black eyes staring at you with… sympathy? You couldn’t understand what you were seeing; An orc, sympathetic?

The club slips from his hand, landing on the floor with a loud thud. Stooping to one knee, he bends down to your height. “Those who you called sisters have abandoned you.”

You dare to look around. Hoping to see a sister who was hiding behind the altar, a pillar, or anywhere. With some kind of weapon in hand, anything to help you get out of this situation alive. But it was barren. Empty of any kind of life whom had been begging for salvation.

He was right. They had. “To escape you, you who would kill me for praying for your death.” You hiss back at him. You didn’t dare believe him, wanted to retreat back into the collective opinion about Orcs. But it was too obvious to ignore his logic.

The words were harsh and sharp, the Orc did not flinch. “And who is here for you, now that I have come to take the lives of your people? Your Gods? Who you pray to, but have done nothing to protect you or your people from the raid of my brethren? Did not even force a fellow sister to stay and share in your fate, so that you would not have to go into the night alone?”

The words rang through you like the Church bell at the top of the steeple. Rooted you to the ground, the world you had built to protect yourself from the truth, crashed and burned. You couldn’t deny that he was wrong. Your so-called ‘sisters’ had abandoned you. Left you here at the mercy of this monster, not one of them had turned to try and help you back up.

A sigh escapes the Orc. “In our ranks,” he says, “we do not abandon our own.” The hand that held the club outstretches toward you. “Come. No one deserves to left alone.”

Anger had risen, spiteful and raging within your very soul. At that moment, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, the Orc was right. Your mind drifts back to what the Church had taught you about them, the Orcs. That they were monsters, born from the core of the Earth. Where Magma bubbled and boiled, where nothing should be able to survive. How your Church commanded that your sisters swear loyalty to one another. To protect each other and Holy Ground from defamation of the filth that rose from the Earth. To do it together. To die together, if it came to it.

The Gods had abandoned you and your sisters had left you. You gave your life for Gods who did not care.

This Orc, monster of the deep Earth, had shown you more decency in that moment. Than Gods or humans had done in the time you had been at the Church. Spite riddles through you. You take his calloused, rough hand.

- Travelling in an Orc caravan was not easy. They were loud, smelly and stupid. All except the Orc who had come for you.

- He was quiet, preferred to watch his others fight, drink and be rowdy with one another.

- At first, the rest of the group had ostracised you. “Humans are no good.” They would snarl. “Weak and useless.” But, after repairing a few of their clothes and cooking meals, they warmed up to you.

- They were kind to you... In their own way. Like the time when they left a whole dead sheeps’ carcass in your tent. The note left with it read: “For dinner this eve. Make or else.” Panicked, you went to find your Orc friend, who explained that this wasn't a threat. Far from it, as a matter of fact.

- They spoke to you that way because they spoke to their own like that.

- "My bretheren see you as one of us now." Rovi - the name of your Orc friend - explained.

“They’re quite the group.” You observe. You had thrown out your robes as soon as you could and replaced them with something that was far from Holy. Trousers and tunic that you had sewed together yourself and hair let down to your waist.

“Indeed.” Rovi agrees. He slurps the rest of the soup from his bowl. Fire crackles in the fire pit, the nights sky blankets the whole group of Orcs who proceed to play fight and snarl. This was apparently, a common pass time for Orcs, who beat the living snot out of each other as a show of comradery. “They will never hurt each other though.” Rovi assures you, putting the bowl beside himself. “We do not do that, unlike humans who abandon their own, kill their friends and steal for survival.”

You did not judge his impression of humans. Surely, you’d feel the same way too if a bunch of humans started chasing after you, desperate for your head. One thing, you could not understand for the life of you, was why Rovi had taken you in. Despite his obvious dislike for humans, he still offered you a place in his camp. Maybe It was as simple as he said: “No one deserves to left alone.”

Biting your lip, you tell him, “thank you for inviting me into your camp.” You meant it. If it weren’t for him, you would still be slaving away for Gods who had no interest in you.

Your Orc huffs, “better than being with humans who abandon their own.” He looks away from you. Back to the jeering crowd of his fellows, watching them clasp each others hands and pat each other on the back. A show of congratulations on a good fight.

- Your romance with him started when there was when you returned to your own tent.

- On your bed, was a small pouch of gold.

- Being in an Orc camp, you observed their customs and cultures. Often, when courting others, they would leave a small bag of gold in their crushes living quarters. A sweet, but simple gesture. Orcs loved their gold, even if they did not flaunt it. To do so was, frowned upon and compared to the Lords who wore those stupid puffy trousers and powdered tall wigs.

- You did not know who the pouch had come from, but you immediately thought that your Orc friend had been the one to do it. But you had to double check. And so you would gauge his reaction to it.

“Look!” You rushed over to him. Waving the bag of gold up to him, you beamed, “someone likes me! I found it on my bed when I got back from washing in the river!”

Rovi, returning from a hunt and carrying a, poor dead stag on his back, looked at you, then the open bag, gold glittering in the sunlight. “Was there a note?” He asked you, dropping it to the ground.

The rest of the hunting party grumbled annoyances at him, dragging the meat away. Rovi ignored them.

“No, there was just this bag. I wonder who it could be!” Your eyes dart across the camp, looking to the cooks, who were now busy skinning the stag, to other Orcs who were busy tending to a fire and talking in their mother tongue and to those who were busy trying to read from tiny human books they stole from villages.

“Best not to think about it,” Your Orc mutters. “Small pouch of gold like that? They can’t be that interested in you.” And with that, he lumbers off.

You frown. You thought for sure it would be him. His reaction made your heart sink in your chest. Sighing, you walk back to your tent, tossing the small bag onto your desk and clambering onto your bed. You sigh. If it was not him, then who could it be?

Unfortunately, you had noted that there was a fair amount of guess work that had to happen when it came to this as well. Usually, it went over well – the admired knew who their admirer was, and they got together. But, in rare instances, where the admired got their guess wrong: The admirer would challenge the guessed person to combat and they would fight. Not a play fight. An actual battle.

It was rare, but not rare enough to avoid being discussed by the rest of the camp. You had never seen one yourself, and if you could, you’d like to avoid it at all costs. You like everyone in the camp, care about them all , you didn’t want anyone to get hurt. One had to assume, that if two Orcs vied for the same person... You didn't want to think about that.

- You had thought long and hard about who it could be. You had become close with everyone in the camp, it wasn’t like there was anyone who stuck out to you.

- Truth be told, disappointment stirred in your gut.

- You had hoped that it would Rovi who had been the one to give you that pouch. He was kind and caring, even if he was a bit rough around the edges. He gave you a whole new life, it seemed almost right that you would fall for him. After he was able to show you the rest of the world, when you may have stayed with the Church for the rest of your days.

- The next day, you went to go and do what you had to do by the river, coming back to your tent and your jaw dropping.

A pouch – you couldn’t even call it that – a sack full of gold had spilled out onto the floor in your tent. You wondered if you’d gone mad. Startling you, a cheer erupted from outside your tent. What the Hell is going on?!

You ran out and into the main area, where a ring of tall, hulking Orcs had formed. You stood on tip-toes, jumped to try and get a look at the brawl that had just started, but had to resolve to pushing your way through the rambunctious crowd. Once the other Orcs realize who it was trying to get through, they bark at their others: “Get out of the way! Let (Y/N) through! It about her after all!”

About you? More desperate now, you finally found your way to the edge of the ring just in time to see Rovi swing a right hook, directly into the jaw of his other. The other Orc goes flying, his landing in front of you sent shudders through the floor. You recognise him immediately as Barrow, a chef who you often spent time with in the kitchens. He was an Orc of very little brains, but he made a mean rabbit stew. He made some inappropriate jokes to you occasionally, but apart from that, he kept mostly to himself.

“That’s all you offer?!” Rovi roars, “pathetic!”

Barrow was out cold, your Orc friend’s chest heaving up and down. “What’s going on?!” You shout over the jeering Orc crowd.

Rovi’s face, goes from a furious, angry scowl, to soft at the sight of you. Rather harshly, he kicks Barrow out of the way and kneels down to your height. “I’m afraid I haven’t been up front with you,” he begins.

The rest of the Orcs are still watching, but now quiet. Your ears rang with the silence, so used to their loud and obnoxious shouting that it was unsettling to hear silence.

“I know that humans are more upfront with their courting practices so allow me to conform to your culture… And I couldn’t allow Barrow to offer you something so insignificant and small as one pouch of gold… So... Would you be mine, (Y/N)?”

Stunned into silence, you bit your lip. Smiling, you ask, “so the extra large sack of gold was you?”

Rovi grumbles and looks away from, a small dusting tinge dusting his orc green cheeks. “Well, I had to do something…” He mumbles. “I had to do something to show you I am superior… if this one hadn’t beaten me to it.” He shoots another dirty look at Barrow, who seems to have awoken in a daze. “The combat was necessary to tell him to back off.”

“I think the gold was more than enough.” You wrap your arms around his muscular shoulders and pull him close. “Thank you for everything, Rovi.”

He freezes for a moment and then returns your gesture, holding you tenderly in that moment. The both of you don’t even hear the crowd of Orcs erupting with cheers and shouts of happiness.

It’s just the two of you. And that’s all that matters in that moment.

#orc boyfriend #orc fiction #orc romance #orc x reader #monster x reader #monster x you #monster x human #monster lover #monster romance #monster x female #writing #fantasy writer #am writing #fantasy writing #female writers #fantasy romance

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syncopatedid · 2 months

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Thinking out loud about The Apothecary Diaries #19... and my observation on how many have expressed disdain about Jinshi's muted reaction in rushing to get treatment for Maomao's injury. How could he remain so calm when the one he cares about is unconscious and bleeding? Why was he not running out of the temple with Maomao in his arms, flailing and yelling for a physician? Why was he not more distressed about it? Anyone would have lost it upon seeing their loved ones hurt like that, would they not? And to that, I'd like to offer this for consideration: Jinshi isn't just anyone. He is the Crown Prince. And to add an extra layer of nuance, consider also that Jinshi, attending the purification ceremony as the Crown Prince, meant that all eyes were on him that day.

Even undercover as an eunuch, Jinshi takes great care in conducting himself with the propriety expected of his role, only ever letting his guard down with a select few whom he trusts enough to have his full immaturity on display. In all likelihood, Jinshi has been made aware of his status and the politics of the palace since he was young. It's not a stretch to assume that the allegiances and loyalties of people who serve the palace are constantly in flux. Everywhere we turn, we see politics at play; amongst the court officials, the Emperor's consorts, and even the handmaidens serving their respective mistresses.

In earlier kerfuffles, when it came to protecting Maomao from being bullied by the handmaidens, Jinshi would approach it in a way that his actions would not be seen as favoritism towards Maomao. Jinshi also didn't cry when he was seeing Ah-Duo off, and would only allow himself to be vulnerable when he was alone with Maomao. In every situation where we see him acting in an official capacity, Jinshi is always conscious and careful about how he is being perceived. So it goes without saying that appearing as the crown prince that day, Jinshi knows his every action is being watched and scrutinized by the people around him. Any move that could be potentially perceived as "weakness" or "unbecoming" of a successor to the throne could start rumors that might reach the enemies of the state, who could use that intel to sow discord among the common people or persuade disgruntled officials to turn against the current regime. The fact that the crown prince's life has been targeted only serves to remind him that there are those actively plotting to destabilize the kingdom by causing massive panic and chaos. Jinshi knows the weight of his role and cannot act impulsively in any situation, even if it's about someone he deeply cares about.

When we consider the above, it would be understandable why he showed as much restraint as he did when it came to what had happened to him and to Maomao. He's used to putting the needs of the country above his own all his life. To step out of the temple maintaining the dignity of royalty after an assassination attempt has just been made on him sends a message of defiance to the ones who were most certainly watching somewhere. And while sullying his hands with the blood of a mere servant girl might send some tongues wagging, Jinshi's composure and quiet indignation would cement his position not only as a man befitting of his lineage but also as a man not to be underestimated. Just something to think about. p.s: As much as I think Jinshi is seething with rage, I kind of feel he would still hold back on the death sentence when it comes to meting out punishment to the guard who was only doing his job, let alone when it's about a servant's disobedience towards a ranked official... so maybe Jinshi could still spare his life and throw him to the gallows or something. That won't matter anyway, since Lakan will probably use his connections to see that he will not live long enough to serve out his full sentence RIP get wrecked!

#the apothecary diaries #kusuriya no hitorigoto #Jinshi #I'm glad I managed to get this thought out before episode 20 drops because I want to free my brain for intrusive Jinmao feels lol

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improbable-outset · 5 months

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📂 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦

↳ 📂 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.3k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Jealous!Miguel, Miguel being bricked up.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @m4dyy @going-through-shit

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Miguel has mixed feelings towards your new boyfriend. That was until you came back with very exciting devastating news

It was another nameless evening in your shared apartment and Miguel was home alone while you were out on another date. You’d think by now that Miguel would be used to not having his feelings reciprocated and watching another man take you away but in reality, it still shattered him.

The apartment would always feel hollow without you in it. The silence was suffocating and only amplified the aching in his chest. Each object that belonged to you in the living room triggered memories that he wishes he could forget for the night. Even if it was just for a few hours to spare his turmoil.

His line of sight bore onto the chapsticks that were perched on the counter near the front door. The same one you would use every time, just so you wouldn’t have chapped lips when you left the house. It was a mundane routine but to him, it carried the weight of countless mornings you both shared. He quickly dropped his gaze and fired up his tablet before he got too lost in his thoughts.

It was a waste of energy getting pissed off over the situation. He had already accepted that it was his fault for not saying anything sooner and for not putting his pride aside for once, just to be with you. He chose silence over vulnerability, opting to preserve the friendship and trust you shared. But that still didn’t stop the longing he felt for something he could never have now.

The front door clicked before you entered through. Miguel turned to watch you take off your shoes before you plodded your way to the couch. You plopped your handbag on the floor and slumped onto one end of the couch with the cushion sinking down with you.

Even before you’ve spoken, Miguel lived with you long enough to know when something wasn’t right. He was always observant with your body language and how you would react in different situations.

You were slouching in your seat and were fidgeting with your fingers, trying to distract your troubled thoughts. The fact that you came home earlier than expected was also a big giveaway too.

It was rare that you would come home upset after going out with your boyfriend, unless there was an argument. But even then, they never left you looking like this. Something major must’ve happened between the two of you.

“Rough night?” He simply asked. He was prepared for whatever outburst you were going to have. A string of cuss words or just a whole venting session. Whatever it was, he was ready — he would willingly take anything you would throw at him.

“You could say that,” was your subdued response. Miguel could already sense that this was just the beginning, the prelude to a bigger issue, like dominos waiting to tumble. It wasn’t hard for him to get you to open up, especially considering the level of trust you had for him.

“Wanna talk about it?” He offered.

You ran your hand over your face, shaking off the weight of misery before you spoke again. “I fucked up…like really fucked up.”

“Okay? Explain,”

“We were in bed and…” For a moment, Miguel felt an instant spike of sour resentment after he heard you mention that. There were flashbacks of those memories of him alone in his room while another man was alone with you in your bed. All those nights where he could do nothing but listen from the cold confinement of his own room. “I accidentally moaned out your name.” And instantly, he felt the bitterness disappear from him and was quickly replaced with something lighter. Relief? But he didn’t want to get his hopes up. It could just be the trick of his mind that was messing with him in the heat of the moment.

“You what?” Surely you didn’t just tell him that you moaned out his name. He had to make sure he heard you right.

“Don’t make me say it again Miguel,” you hissed, he could already hear the embarrassment in your tone and you couldn’t look him in the eyes.

So he did hear you correctly.

“Alright, fine. But why the shock did you do that?” He had to know, he didn’t want to make any premature assumptions just because his name came from your mouth in the midst of you having sex with another man. The room was heavy with silence as you left his question unanswered. “Come on, you’ve already admitted something profound, so whatever your reasoning is can’t be half as bad—”

“I’m in love with you…okay? There I said it.” You blurted out, like ripping out a dark secret that had been buried inside your heart for a long time. After those words finally progressed in his mind, Miguel felt like his own heart was going to lurch out of his chest. Fortunately for Miguel, he has mastered keeping a tight lid on his feelings whenever it was necessary to keep his cool exterior. He wasn’t the type of man to wear his heart on his sleeves, where anyone could easily access it.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” He kept his tone controlled so he wouldn’t sound too happy about this situation. He couldn’t let his egotistical side show.

“Well, you always seemed so…I dunno, emotionally distant. I just thought you’d never like me like that...” Your words felt life daggers that pierced his skin.

It took him this long to realise that keeping his feelings in check and hiding his raw emotions from you wasn’t going to lead him anywhere. Not only did his pride shielded him from potential opportunities, but it also rejected him from hopeful possibilities.

“You never gave any hints that you liked me back so I forced myself to move on and find another man and—”

“And yet, you still couldn’t get me out of your head?” He interjected. The pride that was swelling in his chest was inevitable now.

“Pretty much.”

“Hm, poor guy. Imagine going out on a date and your girlfriend moans out your roommates name.”

“Okay, now you’re just milking it. Stop.” You turned your head away from his view, covering the growing smirk that was forming on your lips with your hand. He felt relieved that he could put light into the situation and get a smile out of you. Even if his snarky tone wasn’t intentional.

“Look, I know this is a stupid question to ask but, have you ended things with him or—?” Miguel left the question open for you to answer. You let out a solemn sigh before you finally turned to face him and shifted a little closer.

“Yeah. He didn’t take it too well and told me to leave. It’s my fault anyways. I feel like I should’ve said something to you sooner. I didn’t want you to find out like this.” You explained while trying to force a smile out of your face.

Miguel felt guilt brewing in him now. None of this would’ve happened if he just let guard down for you and confessed his feelings. Instead you got hurt by someone else.

“It’s not your fault. I should’ve opened my eyes and seen the hints you gave from the start,” what he meant to say was, he should’ve just been more open with his feelings and honest from the start.

Even when there was silence that was shared between the two of you know, it still felt disturbed, like a boulder dropped in stagnant water and the ripples were whispers of unspoken secrets. Secrets that Miguel still couldn’t bring himself to admit to you. He wasn’t going to open up that easily, not without some pressure. Finally you spoke up again, breaking away the ice barrier in his heart.

“Do you hate me now?” Your question caught him off guard and by the way you were analysing his face, he could tell that his change in expression gave away to his slip up.

“No, I don’t. Why do you ask?”

“Because we agreed to live together without any romance and now that you know that I have feelings for you, it’ll make things awkward.” The last four words weigh heavily in his mind, making it harder for him to grapple with his emotions. His heart hammered in his chest and for the first time, he could feel his guarded demeanor slip.

“You know, knowing about your feelings now does stir things up a little. But it made me realise that I value what we have too much to let something like this change things between us.” Miguel sighed, he could feel his turmoil reaching a crescendo.

You turned and moved a little closer towards him on the couch, now being fully attentive to what he was saying. Your eyes on him felt intimidating and he felt like he was put on the spot but it was either now or never. There was no turning back.

“Look, I might have been emotionally distant and not been straightforward with my feelings but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t there…” It felt like he was exposed now.

He could still recall the times he caught him lost in the thought of you, catching glances at you from time to time, all masked by his usual nonchalant facade. Admitting his feelings felt like breaking his unspoken pact but it was a sacrifice he was willing to take if it meant telling you the truth and finally getting his chance with you.

“Miguel, what are you trying to say?” You asked. He wasn’t surprised by the shock in your tone. Even if you have lived together, you’ve never seen him being so raw with his emotions like this.

“It’s just…maybe I’ve been guarding my feelings too closely. I was afraid of disrupting what we’ve already built.” With a deep sigh, Miguel dropped his gaze. There was no way he could look at you in the eyes after that. His mind was clouded with relief, anticipation and uncertainty as he mentally prepared for the various outcomes.

“Miguel, look at me…” He felt his side of the couch dip from your additional weight as you turned his head to face him. “Are you trying to tell me that you feel the same?” Your eyes scanned his face as you waited for his response. Having your face so close to his made it hard to focus and he could feel his face warming up from the close proximity.

“Wasn’t it obvious enough?” He murmured with a hint of sarcasm, subtly leaning into your touch.

“Can I kiss you? Or is that too far?”

“You can kiss me.”

He finally discovered what your lips felt like against his. Something he only dreamt of for the longest time while living with you. It was hard enough being in close proximity with you waking everyday, but watching you be with someone else felt like a restraint against him.

Now he allowed himself to unravel and break away from his stoic character. He had you in his arms now and no one can take you away from him.

He felt you pulling him from his shirt, drawing him closer until you fell back on the couch with him on top of you. He continued kissing you, your lips moving against his in a passionate sync before kissing feverishly over your face and trailing down your jaw and neck. You soft sighs fanned against the skin of his neck.

He could smell a hint of your now ex-boyfriend’s cologne that was still clinging onto your clothes. The scent alone intensified the urge to rip off your clothes. He wanted to remove any traces of your ex that still lingered on you.

But even with the scent that was pestering him, he could still feel his cock pressing painfully under his pants like clockwork.

He could tell you felt it too, the way he was pressed so close against you. Your eyes shot up in surprise before you tried to take a peak at where his crotch was. Miguel pulled himself away from you to see the predicament that was bulging under his pants.

He groaned at himself in frustration. Things were going well between the two of you and his dick had a mind of its own in the situation. Even if he did want nothing more than to be buried deep inside of you right now, he didn’t want to do anything at the expense of your comfort and his dignity.

He didn’t want to move things too fast if it meant scaring you away. What he didn’t expect, however, was to see you lean closer towards him, hands hovering over his pants.

Watching you made his cock twitch in anticipation and he could feel the sweat beads forming on his face. He didn’t know what was going through your mind right now, which didn’t help with his nerves.

“Miguel?” you looked up at him, a hint of something reflected in your eyes. He couldn’t tell if it was disgust or curiosity.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” Miguel quickly reassured you.

His eyes were still fixated to your hand that was hovering over his pants before lightly brushing over his clothed erection. The minimal touch caused an involuntary groan to erupt from his throat along with his quickened heartbeat.

“I do want this Miguel,” you confessed, taking a deep breath before you continued “…but could we not do this on the couch?”

He had to laugh at your suggestion, even though he completely agreed with you. No matter how desperate he was to feel you right at this moment, he was still conscious about making a mess on the couch.

Even if he was going to clean himself up, it was still a little unsettling fucking on a piece of furniture that a lot of your guests would sit on.

He pulled himself away from you and scooped you up in your arms. He grunted lowly from the effort but he knew he could carry you with ease. Your breathy giggles brushed against the sensitive skin of his neck as he carried you to his room.

It was going to be a heavy night.

Part 3 🔞🔞

#Miguel O’Hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #miguel o’hara x y/n #★— ayrus writes

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thef1diary · 3 months

Note

Hii can you write an angsty fic with Daniel with these prompts: "Just play along, please!" & "I can't do this any longer, I just can't!"

Play Along | D. Ricciardo

Summary: You were in a fake relationship with Daniel, and inevitably, you started to fall for him. Unfortunately, those feelings weren't returned.

Warnings: angst, Daniel is a sweetheart and an asshole at the same time, heartbreak.

pairing: daniel x fem!reader (established fake relationship)

wc: 2k

thef1diary 1k celebration

Daniel walked over to your side and opened the car door, then extended his hand for you to accept. Once he helped you out, he closed the door behind you but didn't move a step away.

His hand came up to your cheek, the roughness of his palm only making you blush. You were easily mesmerized by simple eye contact, especially whenever he looked at you like you were everything to him.

Then, he slowly closed the gap between you, placing a short but sweet lingering kiss on your lips before moving to your cheek. "Daniel," you muttered, completely confused by his actions that you almost forgot to kiss back.

Bringing his lips closer to your ear, he whispered, "cameras are watching, pretend like you're in love with me."

Of course. That's where the affection sprouted from. You managed to put a smile on your face but you couldn't pretend to love him. It wasn't an act on your side anymore, you had already fallen for him a few weeks ago but he had no idea.

Daniel moved away, but offered his arm for you to hold, an action that only made others think you two were truly together.

Your relationship, or rather the contract, started a year ago. It was pretty straightforward, Daniel needed someone to play the act of his girlfriend, and you needed money. You didn't think much of it when you signed, only focusing on the amount you earned monthly which was more than enough to live comfortably. It was a win-win situation.

Before signing, Daniel took you out for coffee casually as one of his requirements was to at least be with someone that he would get along with. Even though you quickly found out he was one of the kindest and friendliest person you met, you never thought that you'd be the one catching feelings.

It was one of the rules he was adamant on, among multiple others. "You won't fall in love with me right?" He asked making you almost choke on your coffee then burst out laughing.

However, he didn't laugh at all, which was very unlike him. "Oh you're serious?" You asked, composing yourself. He nodded, "we can be friends sure, but I can't give you anything more than that so don't expect it."

"I won't, this is just a contract, a business transaction even," you stated, not knowing how much you would regret those words.

His arm was placed on your lower back as you entered the banquet hall. Truthfully, you had no idea what the event was about, only knowing that Daniel was a respected guest. He had invited you as his plus-one, and frankly that's all he needed from you.

Daniel was introducing you—as his girlfriend—to some of the important people of the night. But all you could focus on was the way his palm rested on your back, the heat noticeable through your dress.

When he spoke your name, you finally focused on the conversation happening in front of you. "Sorry?"

He chuckled at your confusion, "do you want to tell them the story of how we met?"

You two had a good story memorized, exactly for a moment like this whenever someone would ask. But, you started thinking about how different your lives would be if it were true.

"We met at a café, I was just trying to enjoy my coffee but he tripped over his own feet right next to me," you spoke, making Daniel's eyes widen because that wasn't the exact version of the story you agreed upon.

He still laughed and played along, like he always does. "Some could say I tripped just to get your attention." You playfully slapped his chest, "and you say I fell first but you did, quite literally."

"You might've, but I fell harder, quite literally," he let out a boisterous laugh at his own joke and you couldn't help but join him.

For a short moment, you forgot that there were people around you. But then again, the only time Daniel was this flirty with you was around others.

"That's adorable," the person who you didn't remember the name of said. You tuned out of the conversation again as it didn't include you anymore.

Once again, Daniel nudged you but this time the other person walked away but you didn't exactly remember when. "Is everything okay?"

You nodded but he didn't believe it. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Daniel, I think I just need a drink." He smiled, "it's an open bar, let's go get one." He didn't focus on the fact that you didn't use his nickname like you usually did.

After ordering the drinks, he stood facing you, a smile on his face but you knew him well enough to know it wasn't genuine. At least not in this fake situation.

A few other people came up to Daniel for short conversations, and as you watched him laugh, you thought of how your last year was spent with him.

Daniel followed through on his promise of becoming friends when he showed up at your apartment one day with takeout bags in his hands, because you mentioned that you were really stressed lately.

While you didn't end up getting any work done that night, Daniel kept you company and diverted your mind away from all the stress. You remember how your stomach hurt the next day with how much you laughed.

Other times, he would spoil you. Despite the fact that he paid you for the act, and that too was a lot of money, he still bought you anything you wanted.

It started with going shopping with him, and he would carefully keep an eye on your likes and dislikes. Once he was confident in his choices, he would send you gifts even if he wasn't with you.

On your birthday, you were surprised with a large bouquet of roses, with various pieces of expensive jewelry. A few weeks before your birthday, you and Daniel went shopping and while you loved each piece of jewelry, you didn't end up buying it.

Unbeknownst to you, Daniel went back a few hours later to buy every single bracelet, necklace, and anything else you showed any sort of interest in.

After all that, spending time with him, you started seeing him more as a lover than a friend. The day you acknowledged that thought, you knew it would hurt to leave.

It seemed like zoning out was a habit of yours tonight, because Daniel had to call your name twice before you heard him.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, showing a hint of worry in his tone. You looked around the ballroom, watching a few people dance while others were huddled together in small groups to converse.

You turned your gaze back towards him, "this is kind of boring, sorry, I'm just not interested anymore."

Instead of judging you, he nodded, "it is, do you want to leave?"

"What?" Your confusion made Daniel look at you with amusement present in his eyes. "We've been here long enough so we can leave. I'm craving fries and a burger anyways." He spoke casually.

Waiting for your response, Daniel brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his palm rest on your cheek for a few seconds too long.

"Daniel," your own hand rested on top of his, and when you made direct eye contact with him, that's when your restraint snapped.

"We can stop by that one fast food place you like," he added to convince you but he had no idea of the inner turmoil that you were burdened with, finally becoming too much to handle.

"No, I can't, I'm sorry," you spoke, confusing him but you didn't wait for his response. Moving his hand away, you swiftly walked towards the exit.

Daniel wasn't too far behind, calling your name but you couldn't listen to him anymore. His voice was too sweet, too full of confusion, and you really wanted to go back. But you knew if you continued the act, you wouldn't be able to stop.

As soon as you were outside, under the night sky, Daniel rushed towards you and grasped your hand to stop you. "What's going on?"

You ran your free hand through your hair, trying to figure out the right words to say. "I'm sorry, Daniel, I can't do this anymore," you started.

"Do what?"

"Act. I can't pretend to be your girlfriend anymore, I know we had an agreement but I'm backing out now," you stressed, and Daniel held your other hand or else you would’ve been pacing back and forth by now.

"You can't leave whenever you feel like it. Just play along, please!" He responded, trying to understand what the reasoning behind your decision could be.

You shook your head, "I can't do this any longer, I just can't."

"Why not?" He finally decided to ask. You hesitated because you knew it was time to tell him the truth. “Because I'm in love with you, Danny, and we need to stop pretending before I think it's real on your end too."

Daniel's mouth opened and then closed, as he didn't know how to respond, "but-" he tried but you were quick to cut him off. "Is it?"

"What?" He asked, making you sigh, "is it real for you too?" You forced the words out, but when he didn't have a response, your heart broke.

This time, it was all your own fault. You knew he didn't feel anything for you, not like you felt for him, and by asking if he did, you were only setting yourself up for heartbreak.

"Exactly," you stated once the silence hung in the air for a few seconds too long. It felt suffocating, but you had to continue, "you told me that I couldn't fall in love with you, but I did. That should be enough of a reason for you to let me go."

Daniel couldn't find the right words, and you assumed it was because he couldn't disagree with you. He couldn't tell you that he loved you, he didn't, so he didn't say anything at all.

"I'm sorry. You're a good guy, Daniel, a great guy in fact, and I'm sure that you'll find someone else who's willing to play along. Someone who won't fall for you."

The harsh wind blew your hair, and perhaps you could lie to yourself and claim that the wind was the reason your eyes teared up. But, you knew better.

You looked at him once more, and right before a tear finally slipped out of your eye, you turned away. You didn't want to cry in front of him, even if he was the cause of it.

He found his voice, and called out for you. "Can I at least drop you home? You're gonna fall sick."

You smiled, but he couldn’t see your face so he didn’t notice how it didn’t reach your eyes, "no, thank you,” you spoke loud enough to the empty space in front of you. Your decision was final.

Daniel didn't watch you walk away, he turned in the other direction once he realized you weren’t coming back. He walked towards his car, as there was no reason to stay at the event without you. There would be too many questions and he wasn't ready to deal with that.

Especially not when he just found out that you were in love with him. He didn't know what to think, so he decided not to think at all.

Turning up the music to an unbelievably loud volume that prevented him from listening to his own thoughts, he drove away. While he wasn’t constantly thinking of you, the thought of you remained in the back of his mind, knowing that it would come forth to haunt him in a few days.

#di celebrates #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #thef1diary fic #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo angst #daniel ricciardo fanfic #f1 angst #angst

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xiakato · 2 months

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GISELLE- The Bitch In The Red Dress (M)

A/n: I've been playing too much resident evil lately

September 1998, you'll never forget it. The grizzly murders in the Arkley Mountains to the zombie outbreak in Raccoon city, her. She strung you along with little to no effort. Her beauty was something else, something not of this world. You and her got along per se, a kiss to stop your overthinking while you were in the thick of it. The hive was when everything went south. Her lies came out in the open due to the person you have been chasing with her. The explosions destroy the bridge and they are desperate to hold her from falling. The slipping of her hand from yours. The sinking heart as you watch her fall with the metal bridge. You had to get out, the city was forfeit.

Years later

You got hit by an assignment, the president's daughter was kidnapped by a cult in Spain's countryside. Ever since Raccoon city, you've tried to get away from the fight with the B.O.Ws that Umbrella left behind and the ones that are hidden away from greedy eyes. The cult leader, Saddler, is an extremist. Possibly due to the influence of the plaga or perhaps he always had these ideals and beliefs and the discovery of the plaga allowed him to act on it. The countless lives of the villagers, those part of the cult and those who were experimented on were lost. You fought through the village, Castle De Salazar, the place where you ran into her, The one that stole your heart amidst chaos. The red dress is reminiscent of the one she wore all those years ago. The knife shines in the moonlight as it is pressed against her neck, her porcelain skin reflecting in the polished finish.

“Use knives next time, they’re better for close encounters,” You take the handgun from her hand tossing it to the side sheathing your knife.

“Y/n,” You look at the woman as she takes off her sunglasses, you thought she was dead.

“What are you doing here Giselle?” You ask her, keeping your feelings in check. You’re on a mission, you have to be on guard at all times.

“Don’t worry about it, handsome,” She walks towards the window, “So cold to me after all these years apart.”

“After your lies, you’re lucky I don’t shoot you here and now,” You stare at her, fighting the urge to soak in her moon kissed beauty.

“Oh honey, I didn’t mean to lie to you, we both had a job to do that day,” You shake your head at her as she smirks,” Well see you around handsome,” She tosses her glasses causing a flash bang to go off blinding you as she takes off out of the window. You stare out of the window she left from,shaking your head leaving to the maze below. The castle was something else, the castellan was an interesting character to say the least. Ningning got taken to an island off the coast. Chasing after the man that took her, he’s quick perhaps beyond human limits. Getting to the dock, seeing a boat with a woman inside. She looks at you, “Need a ride handsome?”

The rough waters did little to deter you from looking at her, her hair neatly done despite the situation. You shake your head, getting rid of the excess thoughts. “Why Giselle?”

“All these years and that’s all you can ask Y/n?” She quirks an eyebrow, “You disappoint me.”

“I have something to ask you, but I won’t get a straight answer,” She chuckles as you sigh,”Raccoon City, after the incident. You try to save one, a hundred more die. The world changed and so have I. So the question is have you changed Giselle? or are you just trying to use me again?”

“You? Changed? You only think you have, what do you think? Do you think I’ve changed?” She looks over as she pulls the boat over to the side off the cliff aiming her grapple gun, “Don’t think too hard, handsome,” She takes off rocking the boat, you react quickly, steadying the boat before leaning back in the chair and sighing.

“Story of my life.”

The island was just as you expected to be, until you ran into him, Krauser. The man that trained you, the sparks from the knives slashing against each other. He knocks you onto your back diving his knife for your neck, a gunshot rings out making Krauser jump back and look over where it came from.

“Well if it isn’t The Bitch In The Red Dress,” He smirks as she starts firing down at them, with his enhancements, he can run faster than humanly possible. Dodging the bullets and jumping towards her, she grapples out of the way with him still chasing.

“What the fuck is happening here?”

The island of horrors, abdominations, fucking lasers, a comfy throne. You are pretty sure you’ve seen it all on this island alone. Finding Ningning again, you managed to find a machine that can get rid of your plaga after Giselle saved your ass again. Sending electric currents into a certain spot at a single spot, for one fucking hurt, and two killed the plaga so You are free from the plagas control and Saddler has another thing coming. Rushing outside to see Giselle tied by her wrists hanging in the ai.

“Y/n isn’t that?” Ning asks, as you nod.

“Stay here,” You tell her as you get into the elevator heading up, meeting Saddler as you ignore him tossing your knife cutting down Giselle. His form changed into a spider-like form with eyeballs on his legs. The fight felt like it took forever, Until you spot Giselle running over, “Y/n use this~” She yells out tossing a RPG towards you, you rush picking it up. Shooting it at Saddler as he recoils from the blast, his body sizzles away, you spot the vial, you grab it as you feel a gun press against your head.

“Hand it over,” Giselle says as you hand it behind you, she takes as she runs off the side getting an helicopter, “The island is set to blow,” She tosses a key ring, “Better hurry up Prince Charming.”

The helicopter takes off as you run back to the elevator, grabbing Ning by the hand, “We have to go,” You rush towards the underground water way, seeing a jet ski waiting for you, you hop on with her and speed away dodging the falling rocks, you get out of the waterway with Ning holding on tightly.

“Wow that was close,” She says resting her head on your back, “So um.. what do you think about some over time?”

“I’m good,” You chuckle, “I have some one else in my mind.”

“Is it her?” She asks and you merely nod as you drive off, “I figured,” She mutters leaning her head down on your shoulder.

You get a nice vacation after getting the president's daughter back to the states. You take in a breath of fresh air standing in front of your house, getting to the front door, you notice it's slightly opened. Immediately drawing your 9mm, turning the safety off you make your way through the living room. Clearing every room in the bottom floor before moving up. Clearing rooms up to yours. Opening the door, your laser lands in the middle of the forehead of the intruder.

"Oh my, what a welcome," she's says as she crosses her legs in her trademarked red dress.

"What are you doing here Giselle?" you ask her holstering your gun, sighing.

"just thought I'll see you again," her eyes trailing your body in suit. "You look good like you always do, perhaps the president's daughter flirting with you did you some good."

“Don’t even talk about that,” You place your gun onto the dresser by the wall before looking back at her as she stands walking over to you, her hands trailing down your shirt undoing button by button. She pulls off your shirt and suit jacket in one swoop. She kisses your scars soflty, her eyes lock onto the gunshot on your shoulder.

“I remember when this happen,” Her fingers softly glazes over the gunshot, “I was scared to be honest.”

“Even though you say that, were you really?” You question her as you feel her fingers quiver against your skin

“I’m telling the truth for once, Y/n. I didn’t want to lose you even though I only just met you a few hours prior,” She kisses the scar, her kisses trail down your body as she gets to her knees undoing your belt. Pulling your cock out, she smiles licking her lips, “I missed this,” She pushes you towards the bed, taking off your boxers and slacks. She strokes your cock slowly as she spits on it, “I feel you throbbing already~” She kisses up your shaft, “Already needy for Mommy?” She takes your tip into her mouth, you feel her tongue swirl around it sending shivers throughout your body.She pushes herself deeper as your cock reaches her throat.

“Fuck,” You mutter as your hand reaches the back of her head pushing your cock deeper. She pulls back, her saliva cascades down onto your cock as she strokes it faster and faster, her other hand caressing your body, her hand going over your abs and scars as she sucks your cock.She pulls your cock out with a pop as she stands up, dropping her red dress onto the floor, her naked poreclain body on perfect display for you as she straddles you, her thighs covered in her juices as she slides your cock into her, hearing her breath hitch as you feel her up. Your arms wrap around her waist, as she starts to ride you. Her ass bouncing on your cock, her tightness squeezing every inch of you. She wraps her arms around your neck as she rides your cock faster and faster.

“Fuck me babyboy, Use me fucking use me baby,” She pleads with you as you thrust upwards, hitting her womb as you ravage her, her moans fill your ears. You hear nothing else other than her, she is in every one of your senses. Her juices dripping down your balls creating a puddle on the bed, “Give me that dick baby,” She moans out as her hands grip onto your hair as her hips meet your thrusts. You feel her walls tighten around you as she cums over your cock, her body shaking as you don’t stop chasing your own orgasm, “Fucking cum in me, fill me the fuck up with your cum babyboy,” She urges you as you feel it coming you fuck her faster and faster and you feel the first shot, you push yourself as deep as you could. You see her bright smile as she feels you fill her up, “So so much~” She giggles as she sits up, your cock still in her, “You filled up Mommy so well,” She moves her hips slowly, milking the rest out of you, “Surely you have more for me~?”

#Aespa #giselle #kpop smut #Kpop #male reader

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hamable · 11 months

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I’m about to write an essay on the specific situation Miles is in as we set up for a third movie.

With great power comes great responsibility.

Not a single spiderman asked to be bit. No one planned to be spiderman. But, given the power to do so, they chose to become spiderman. Miles is bitten by a spider from a different dimension that was never meant for him. In that moment, two dimensions were doomed. One to lose it’s intended spiderman, and one to never have one at all.

But Miles’s New York isnt in a state of anarchy like Universe-42, where his spider came from. It’s relatively normal. It’s what we expect of Spider-Man’s New York. It’s not doomed.

Spiderman doesn’t choose to get powers. In any universe. But every spiderman looks at what he has and the world around him and does what he can do.

Miles is just as much a Spiderman as every other Peter out there. It could be anyone under the mask, should they chose to wear it.

He may have been in the wrong place at the wrong time but so was every other bite victim. This is not his fault. And it may take another watch or two for me to confirm, but I don’t think Miguel ever directly says something to blame miles as an actor in all this. Yes, miles is the linchpin. To keep to the canon web, miles should not have been bitten. The fault falls on happenstance, though it’s all too easy to pin on miles. But I don’t think Miguel ever says that. Miles shouldn’t exist. Miles is not spiderman, in Miguel’s eyes. But goddamnit he’s not at fault here.

I’m hoping Miles can take control of his own narrative. His entire character revolves around balancing the expectations of those around him while he tries to discover his own. His family, his school, living up to what spiderman is supposed to be. Even The Hole confronts him and demands he acknowledge they are nemeses, and upon being turned down, seeks vengeance and validation which is the catalyst for the movies major conflict. Ppl keep telling miles who to be. And in a universe where a kid got bit when he shouldn’t have, I hope he finds the strength to rewrite more shouldn’ts. Spiderman can do both. The captain doesn’t have to die. His relationship with Gwen Stacy does not end in tragedy.

EDIT: FUCKIN. IF THE CANON RULES ARE SO IMPORTANT. WHY’D JEFF DIE IN A UNIVERSE WITH NO SPIDERMAN? UNCLE AARON DIDNT HAVE TO DIE IN THAT ONE SO WHY DID THE CAPTAIN??? ANSWER ME THAT M I G U E L?????

#across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse spoilers #sats spoilers #spiderman across the spiderverse spoilers #spiderman

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ifonlyitwasmidnight · 1 year

Text

And They Were Best Friends

Pairing: Draken x F!Reader x Mitsuya

CW/TW: Hurt/Comfort, Situation-ship without the benefits, Oral F (face sitting) and M receiving/giving, vaginal sex, rough-ish sex (It's Draken, what're we gonna do), swearing, pet names (baby, princess, sweetheart, beautiful), nipple play.

Summary: Six years is a long time to dance around your feelings for your two best friends. When you are forced to move out of your apartment, Draken suggests you move in with him and Mitsuya, where things become even more complicated.

Word count: 8.6k

tag list: @awkwardchick87

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At some point in the last five years, Draken and Mitsuya had become permanent fixtures in your life. You couldn’t even pinpoint the moment when people started asking where any of the other sides of your triangle were when you showed up alone or if they showed up somewhere without you. It was to be expected at this point.

You three simply were.

You can’t remember the last time at least one of them wasn’t crowded into your too-small one-bedroom apartment with you, silently sitting with you while you worked or helping you cook whatever the three of you would be having for dinner that night.

If it wasn’t your place, you were at the shop when Draken would have to work late, you and Mitsuya keeping him company as the streetlights came on, illuminating the streets in a crimson, orange glow while he pushed to finish up his project.

Or it was Mitsuya's place when his mom needed someone to watch the girls. Laughter and unbridled joy filtered in and out as the three of you wrangled them in for the night. Others, it was Mitsuya’s loft design studio, you and Draken curled up on the small sofa together, having fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning while the third part of your lives sketched and pinned, needing to get his designs out but still needing you nearby.

It was somehow domestic.

Outside looking in, people thought it was an odd dynamic—an overly complicated situation of feelings that would eventually lead to heartbreak.

But to the three of you, it just was.

In the five years, it had always been simple. Crushes had come and gone, packed down into boxes that couldn’t be opened out of fear of ruining what had become your lives. Mitsuya never missed how Drakens lips turned into a small smile when you entered a room, instantly lighting up the room, even on the darkest days. Draken never failed to recognize the longing in Mitsuya’s when you would push the hair from his eyes as he poured over sketches like Mitsuya wished those touches would linger just a little longer so he could soak in your warmth for just a little longer.

The two had some unspoken agreement not to push, too wrapped up in the comfort that you all brought to the others, even at the cost of their own fulfillment if that’s what it took.

They never saw how your eyes would linger on one or the other, wishing that the moments of happiness and friendship they offered could turn into more. They didn’t know that when they would eventually leave you at night, with a hug that lingered a little too long or a look in their eyes like they wished they could stay, you hoped for the same thing, to spend every night in the comfort of their presence, waking up to another day with them. So instead, you listened as their motorcycles would rumble to life and count as the noise slowly turned into the stillness of night once more.

But just like them, you knew that pushing those lines was out of the question. That one day, you would have to let them go so they could find what they needed outside of you. You would never ask them to choose between you and them. They were the twin dragons, two sides of the same coin, never to be separated, bonded through life and blood.

Never once did any of you stray from the others. Year after year, settling into a routine that revolved around your complicated situation.

“They’re upping my rent at the beginning of the month,” you groaned one night as you leaned against Draken on the couch in the studio. He had a leg folded up, ankle sitting on top of his knee as he thumbed through an old motorcycle manual you had picked up for him at a thrift store. His other arm slung over the back of the couch, unknowingly drawing little shapes into the bare skin of your shoulder.

Mitsuya stuck his drawing pen behind his ear and turned on the stool. “Too much?”

You hummed a confirmation. You’d have to move. You rented that place initially because it had been a steal, but recently, it seemed like your rent kept increasing, and your pay kept getting thinner.

“You talk to Peh and Pah?” Draken shut the manual after dog-earing a worn-out, oil-stained page.

You shook your head, “Not yet. I was going to give them a call in the morning. But from what I could find, I’m probably going to have to move further out of the city.”

Both men stiffened almost imperceptibly, locking eyes across the room.

Leaving the city meant you’d be gone from them longer than they’d like, keeping you just out of reach of their protection. Draken felt his stomach sink at the thought of not having you close. Not being able to show up where you are and watch as your eyes lit up, how you’d wrap your much smaller frame into his own as you pressed against him before wrapping you in his arms, hugging you close.

“I’ll pick you up in the morning,” Mitsuya said softly, lost in his thoughts. “I’ll take you down there and talk to them with you.” The unspoken “we’re not letting you go” passed between the two men. Draken nodded in agreement with the plan and Mitsuya’s resolve.

Draken sighed heavily and dropped his head back, staring out the skylight in the ceiling, watching as one star in the sky slowly blinked out of existence. “We’ll figure this out, sweetheart.”

You had been out the door the following morning before Mitsuya had even finished pulling up to your apartment, having heard him coming. You knew the sound of their bikes like the back of your hands at this point. It was chilly, the tepid days of fall slowly filtering into the early brisk of winter, and you shivered as Mitsuya kicked down the stand before getting off, leaving the bike running. His face was pinched, his eyebrows scrunched together as he took you in; something was bothering him that he wasn’t ready to voice.

You raised a hand and wordlessly smoothed your thumb between his brows, relaxing his face. He smiled gently as he reached for the helmet on his bike and placed it on your head, pulling the braid you had secured your hair into over your shoulder before fastening the buckle under your chin. When he was done, he tilted your chin up with a finger, staring into your eyes with a softness you weren’t ready to acknowledge. Something shifted last night when you said you would need to move. Like a leg had been kicked out from the stool, you all sat on precariously, waiting to tumble into the unknown. You felt the pull to Mitsuya now, just as you had felt last night with Draken when he had dropped you off, unable to meet your gaze as he left you at your front door with a lingering hold on your hand, afraid that if he let go, it might be the last time he got to do something that had become part of his ritual for far too long.

You had almost asked him to stay.

Mitsuya climbed back on the bike and held out a hand to help you on as he steadied it. You would miss this. He would pull your arms around his waist to secure you to his back before shifting into first and slowly easing out onto the main street. This time felt different. Mitsuya needed to feel your arm around him. Needed to feel you pressed against him where you belonged.

He and Draken had decided long ago to put their feelings aside for your sake. But the thought of you being gone had tipped something in them both last night. The stupidity of their lack of trust in your relationship coming back to haunt them in their sleepless night and late exchange of texts discussing how they could keep you with them. Mitsuya felt that sting now more than he ever had.

“So, I’m screwed?” You said thirty minutes later in Peh and Pah’s office as they explained your options.

There wasn’t much to rent, and buying wasn’t an option. You’d either need roommates to afford rent or, as you thought, you’d have to move further away from the area you had grown to love over the past five years. Your home. The sanctuary that you had built.

“Basically,” Peh grumbled.

The other original members of Toman knew what you meant to their brothers but, like everyone else, never mentioned it. However, they all respected what had been built between you, knowing that you were what was needed after their lives of turmoil. Even Pah was up to date after some much-needed explanations from Peh.

Draken had been silent the whole meeting, leaning up against the wall behind you and Mitsuya with his hands balled into fists, shoved into his pockets. He watched as your shoulders deflated at the realization that your one Hail Mary had failed.

“What if,” Draken spoke quietly into the somber room, “we all found a place? Together.”

You whirled in your seat, shock written across your face at the suggestion.

Mitsuya hummed in fake contemplation. He and Draken had filtered the idea around last night, only wanting to offer it to you if needed. They knew your independence—how you liked having your own space.

“I do need a bigger studio. I keep running out of room, but I’m not ready to move to a whole building yet,” Mitsuya said as if he was thinking aloud. It wasn’t necessarily a lie. Simply a slightly grandiose version of the truth.

You whirled on Mitsuya next, blindsided by their offer.

“But Inui,” you started as you turned back to Draken. He shrugged.

“The shop is doing well enough that he doesn’t need me to split the cost anymore. Plus, getting away from the guy a little more would be nice. Love him, but….” Draken trailed off with another nonchalant shrug.

They had already discussed this with Pah and Peh, the possibility of moving the three of you into one place. You could afford it, even if they tried to pick up more of the cost. You loved your job— it was your passion. Even if the compensation wasn’t the best at times, you always made it work, and that was one of the things the Twin Dragons admired about you so much.

Your mind was reeling. You could… you all could. But would that complicate things? How would you all navigate such tight quarters with the feelings you all had been avoiding? The sealed lid you kept on your feelings for both men slowly unraveled, the stitches fraying from years of being overstuffed with everything you felt.

Mitsuya looked at Pah and Peh. “Give us a minute?”

Both men quickly exited the room, mumbling something about needing to look at other paperwork anyways.

Draken approached you both, hands still in his pockets. He loomed over you, looking down at you with his eyes bouncing between your face and Mitsuya’s.

“This’ll keep you here, sweetheart,” he said uncharacteristically gently. He walks around the chair you sit in and crouches before you, his hands finally coming from his pockets to rest on your knees. The veins in his hands were more prominent than usual from their clenching.

“Stay with us,” he whispered, a soft plea in the words that cracked your heart. Mitsuya looked on, his turn to stay silent. The words coming from Draken would mean more than his own. No jealousy came with that thought— it was just fact. Draken expressing his need for you in the only way he knew how to would be more powerful than Mitsuya saying the exact same thing. You looked at Mitsuya, and that brilliant smile spread across his face, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The part of you that feared what this would mean was won out by your need to keep things the same. The knife slowly tipped sideways as you took your phone from your pocket and emailed your landlord.

This is my 30-day notice to vacate.

Draken and Mitsuya deposited your boxes and bed in the primary room, saying something about how you needed the room with the bathroom connected for your privacy against your insistence that Mitsuya needed the space for his work. Mitsuya waved you off, stating he would claim the office as his own, and that was the end of the discussion.

Somehow, Pah and Peh had found you a three-bedroom, two-bath with an office and spacious living room a perfect distance from D&D Motors, Mitsuya’s mom's home, and the rest of the prior Toman members. Almost like it was “fate.” By now, you knew better. Mikey had “accidentally” let it slip that they had all been searching for something perfect for you three during the whole debacle. No one in your circle seemed keen on the idea that you would have had to leave them.

You spent the first night in your new home, settled on the floor together, eating takeout.

Weeks passed. Then months. That unspoken tension continued to build, swirling around you, waiting for one of you to fall into the torrent of unspoken feelings. Maybe it was just you reading too much into the situation, hoping for something that couldn’t possibly be true. Perhaps it was just them making sure you didn’t have to leave and nothing more. Why would it be, after so long together and the moments you had shared? For everything to change now, to shift into something that had stopped crossing your mind for so long, could be nothing more than the pipedream of your unrequited feelings. What was the possibility of being with them and asking them to share you?

But you couldn’t deny the attraction to them. You couldn’t resist how Draken would pull you into him after a long day, securing you against his side as you watched a movie. You never stopped Mitsuya from tucking you into him, resting his chin on the crown of your head while he basked in all the things that were you. They didn’t stop you when you crawled into their beds, seeking comfort from a sleepless night, falling into a dreamless, fitless sleep as either one unconsciously wrapped an arm around your waist and held you to their warmth. Nothing stopped any of you from the lingering touches on each other’s bodies as you went about your days, passing each other, seeing Draken off to work in the morning, or bidding Mitsuya good luck as he shut himself in his office for another day.

Soon, hugs turned into cupped cheeks with kisses pressed to your forehead. Fitting sessions turned into long gazes and unspoken words as Mitsuya used your body for his latest design. Trips to D&D became bringing dinner and riding home on the back of Drakens bike instead of with Mitsuya because you missed him a little extra that day. Soon, the muddied waters of what had been the shut box had become black with the things none of you would admit.

Still, it didn’t stop.

“Are you dating them both?”

You choked on your drink. Hina had called you earlier, asking if you wanted to meet at the little café near her and Takemitchi’s house. She wasted no time in asking the question that had been on everyone’s mind. She had seen the sly kiss Mitsuya had placed against your temple before he left after waving at Hina.

“I…” you said after you could breathe again. “I don’t really have an answer to that.” Although you probably should at this point.

Neither man pressed you for answers. Nor did you to them. Nothing ever went further than what it had all become. However, you knew at times when either would kindly excuse themselves from the room after being close to you for a little too long, gently putting space between your bodies to hide their need for you. They had discussed it in private when you weren’t home, what this all meant, and how to navigate it. Neither one had answers. All they knew was that you belonged with them, no matter what it looked like. If they spent the rest of their lives pining for you, then that’s what they would do; they had agreed.

“No one would care if that’s what you’re worried about. You all have been dancing around your feelings for years,” Hina said. She was always straightforward with you. It was her job as your best friend. “We all just want to see you happy.”

Happy. But you were happy. Weren’t you? You chewed on your bottom lip. Thoughts raced through your mind about what could happen if you let go. If you let yourself feel the frightening and unending extent of what Draken and Mitsuya meant to you. It was an abyss with no end, and you never wanted it to.

“They both care for you a lot.”

You knew that, and you said as much out loud.

“That’s not what worries me. What if it all goes to hell if I let myself go with them?”

Hina placed her chin in her hand and leaned across the table slightly. “Do you want them to be with someone else? It’s been almost six years now. I haven’t seen either one so much as look at another woman the way they look at you. I haven’t seen Draken so content to be around someone since we were teenagers. Mitsuya gravitates to you like you’re the sun in his universe. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve caught him looking for you in a crowded room, and he relaxes as soon as he sees you. Love never looks the same for everyone.”

Love.

A stitch on the box buried within you snapped.

You couldn’t think of them with someone else. The thought churned your insides, making you feel sick. It had never crossed your mind that they might eventually seek someone else out, ready to move into a new phase of their lives. It wasn’t jealousy at the possibility, just an unbridled sadness that sank claws into your heart and refused to let go.

“What do I do?” You whispered the question, knowing the answer. You were afraid to admit it. Afraid to let it all loose and have it come crashing down around you in a torrent of pain and rejection. You knew logically that their actions spoke the opposite of what you were feeling. They could be feeling the effects of whatever this was just as much as you were and were too afraid to bring it up. But what if it was just a comfort to them?

“What if I’m just a placeholder, Hina?”

She giggled, and you cocked an eyebrow at the fit she had.

“Six years is a long time to be a placeholder. I think you know what you need to do. We all support you guys. Take a chance. You never know what will happen.”

The phone only rang once before Mitsuya picked up, and he was back with you before you could buy his and Draken's favorite pastries from the tiny café.

You nervously pushed at your food that night, churned up by your conversation with Hina. If you didn’t do it now, you were worried that you would lose all resolve and never come back to it, content with how things were—intimidated by the unknown.

Mitsuya cleared his throat, and your eyes snapped to his. He tilted his head to the side slightly, his way of wordlessly asking if something was wrong. You sighed heavily and placed your utensils down. Draken peeked up at you, alerted to the shift by the heavy puff of your breath, his dark hair falling into his face, still wet from the quick shower he had taken upon arriving home.

“I think we all need to talk.”

Draken and Mitsuya exchanged a look, knowing what was about to happen.

“I’ll clean up,” Mitsuya said as he rose from the table, reaching for your plate. “Meet you in the living room, ‘kay?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat before standing. Draken held out one of his hands, quickly lacing your fingers together and engulfing your smaller hand in his. His palms were sweaty as he led you to the couch, where you plopped down. He sat in front of you on the floor between your legs and craned his neck back to look at you. You knew what he wanted.

Your hand carded through his hair, and his eyes fluttered shut as he felt your fingers drag against his skin. He always loved when you’d play with his hair when it was down. Something about the movements felt intimate to him.

“Everything is going to change. Isn’t it?” You asked softly, breaking the stillness in the room.

“Not if you don’t want it to, but on some level, if this is going where Draken and I think it is, yes. On some level, it will,” Mitsuya answered as he entered the room, taking a spot next to you on the couch, leaning his back against the armrest, and crossing his arms across his chest. He was tense. Eyes full of something that resembled worry.

“I feel like you guys have been waiting for this conversation to happen for a while.”

“Not so much waiting as hopin’ maybe one day it would happen,” Draken supplied, eyes still shut. He used the excuse of your hands in his hair to avoid looking at you. He knew if he did, any resolve he had built would crumble. His walls he had spent so long refusing to scale, seemed crumbling moment by moment. He had waited so long for this to potentially happen that it felt like a dream. He anticipated waking up at any moment, once again disappointed that he would have to go another day without calling you his.

“What are we doing here, guys?” You forced the question out after a pregnant pause, hoping one of them would be the one to break it. Your hand glided through Drakens hair that was as dark as the ocean you found yourself in.

“We’re simply three people living a very complex life together. None of us want to disrupt the peace we have managed to find. I’m gonna be honest with you, though, Princess,” Mitsuya said, leaning forward. “I don’t want to live like this anymore.”

Your heart sank at the words. You didn’t think your heart would instantly shatter at the words you had dreaded. Had you let things go for too long? Had you spent so long denying the way you felt that any chance of saving your relationships was about to go out the window?

Draken opened his eyes as your hands stilled in his hair. Your eyes were lined with tears as your brain went to the darkest place it could find quicker than either could rip you back from falling into it.

“We don’t want to keep dancin’ around how we feel, sweetheart,” Drakens low timber reverberated around the room.

You looked down at him; it was the first time Draken truly let his walls shatter. You saw it in his eyes, how he felt for you, and the words he couldn’t quite find a way to say. It was all there, hidden in the depths of the swirling blackness that you recognized all too well, as if the depthless abyss you found yourself in at times was him surrounding you. The trickles of light that poked through being Mitsuya. You looked to the other man, and a sad smile worked its way across his delicate features.

They took your breath away, these men. Each time you looked at them, it was a reminder of how beautiful they both were, from soul to body. Years they had spent by your side, supporting you, fighting for you. Watching and cheering you on as you chase your goals. They had held your hand through the most challenging times and walked beside you, always present. And they knew you had done the same, a steady constant in their lives that they could reach for when they needed you.

“We know you feel the same, beautiful,” Draken admitted. “Six years is a long time to keep your feelings pushed down.” Your hand carded through his hair once more, a quiet answer to his confession as much as it was one. Because if they knew the depth of what you felt for them, for them both, then that was Drakens way of admitting he understood.

“What does it look like? How can I ask you to share me and be with you both? And what do we tell other people when they ask? At least now an easy “it’s complicated” seems to be enough to stop people from prying,” The questions spilled out of your mouth too quickly, and Mitsuya reached for one of your hands, gripping it tightly.

“Nothing about what we call ourselves or how to respond to people matters. If someone has a way they feel about it, they can keep it to themselves. So we are the only three that matter. And as far as sharing you goes,” a mirthless smirk crept across Mitsuya’s face, and you felt your cheeks flush. “Draken and I are brothers. We’ve been through too much together to let jealousy break us apart. But there would be none if that’s what you’re fear. I’ve watched as he held you for years, and it’s always settled something in me, knowing that you both were happy with each other.”

“Every time Takashi kisses your head, do you know how you sigh and lean into his touch?” Draken asks as he turns between your legs, kneeling before you. Something about the image of Draken knelt between your legs stirred something in you—the stoic, strong, unrelenting man, putting himself in front of you, offering up himself. “I’ve watched it hundreds of times. Each time it puts a tiny smile on your face. Belongin’ to both of us doesn’t mean anything other than that we are both yours.”

You sucked in a shaky breath as a tear slipped from your eyes. Draken caught it before it could fall from your cheek, and you leaned into the touch. A warmth bloomed in his chest at the motion, little sparks of electricity shooting up his arm at the contact.

“I’ve spent so long keeping it all in check. Refusing to get between you two out of fear. I would never be the reason something comes between you.”

“You’d be the best thing to come between us,” Mitsuya responded quickly. It was something he had thought for years after concluding that he would be okay with sharing you with Draken. No other man was good enough to touch you. None other would be worthy enough to run his hands down your soft skin and hear your bubbling laugh.

“Lemme kiss you,” Draken whispered, his dark eyes darting between your lips and your eyes. Even if it was once and you realized you couldn’t do it. He would be content for the rest of his life knowing he could taste your lips for a fleeting moment if that were all he was granted. Your tongue poked out between your lips, running along them before you gently bit your lower one. Draken watched each movement, suppressing a groan at the innocent motion. You glanced at Mitsuya, and he nodded. You nodded, and Draken slowly rose onto his knees, placing his hands beside your thighs on the couch before invading your space. The air between you grew thick with each slow movement, giving you time to reconsider and turn away.

But you didn’t.

With each inch he closed between you, your resolve grew. You wanted to feel his lips against yours. Would they be soft? Would he taste sweet? Or would they be brash and overwhelming like the rest of him in an oh-so-good way? The first touch of his lips to yours was gentle, testing, and teasing—a ghost of a kiss that had you chasing him as he pulled away to gauge your reaction. You reached up and cupped his cheek, pulling him back to you. The kiss was unhurried as he pressed his lips against yours, and you lost yourself in the feeling.

It was as if the gates you had sealed yourself behind unlocked at the sensation. He was the key that allowed you to let go and be free. You slotted your lips further against his, darting your tongue out between you and running it along his bottom lip, requesting permission. Draken groaned into the kiss, one calloused hand slipping to your thigh, dragging against your bare skin. His skin against yours set you on fire.

The kiss deepened quickly—tongue dancing with tongue. Teeth bumping as you couldn’t get enough of each other. A fog in your brain promptly settled nothing but the man in front of you breaking through until you felt a hand on your cheek, breaking you away from Draken, and a different set of lips was pressed against yours. Mitsuya was different from Draken. Where Draken took Mitsuya gave. Where Draken devoured, Mitsuya allowed you to lead. He was sweet when Draken tasted of spice. The contrast between the two truly showed just how much they completed each other.

Your body became aware, every nerve firing simultaneously as Drakens lips met the sensitive skin of your throat, kissing and biting before sucking little marks, marking you as his. He pulled back to look at the marks before pressing closer to you for more, unable to get enough of you now that he could finally touch you the way he had been aching. You didn’t know how you wound up in Mitsuya’s lap with Draken pressed against your back, still kneeling on the floor.

You were turned once more, Drakens hand cupping your jaw as he pulled your lips back to his, eager to taste you again. He pushed closer against your back, trying to get as much contact with you as possible, and you gasped slightly into the kiss as you felt his erection push against you.

“Ignore it,” he said in between kisses.

Mitsuya leaned forward to place kisses against your collarbones and neck, leaving his marks against your overly hot flesh. You were overwhelmed by them. They were everywhere. Their hands roamed over your body, leaving nothing untouched as they began to learn you in different ways.

You didn’t want to ignore it. Mistuya had kept you low enough on his lap that if he was feeling the same as Draken, you couldn’t tell. You wanted to give in to the urges you had for years, fingering yourself in the shower or bed, biting down on anything you could to keep your moans from spilling into the hallway and alerting them to what you were doing. You needed to feel their flesh against your own with no clothes between you.

You reached your hand behind you and gently rubbed it over Draken’s hard cock, and his hips instantly bucked into your hand.

“Fuck,” he let out a strangled moan at the feeling. How often had he dreamt of this? Your hand pressed against him, stroking him to completion, letting his cum spill into your hand that he knew wouldn’t wrap entirely around his girth.

“Want us to make you feel good, princess?” Mitsuya spoke against the hollow of your ear before nipping your lobe. Your whine against Draken’s lip was the only answer you could provide as he deepened your kiss. Everything they did had you pulsing with need. So long of ignoring how they would send your body into overdrive with a simple touch culminating into this moment when you could finally let go. This feeling was the one you had been missing for so long. And it felt right. To be with them. To have them against you like this. It was the feeling of being so touch-starved for something so magnetic being fulfilled in the way it needed.

You broke from the kiss, sucking down desperate gulps of air. Taking a chance, you pushed your hips against Mitsuya, moaning as the pressure building between your thighs was relieved for a split second, causing the man under you to groan at the sweet sound and friction. He was going to lose himself in you. He did everything he could to keep himself from cumming at the slightest touch. You probably wouldn’t believe it if he told you, but neither man had touched another woman since you came into their lives. Mitsuya gripped your hips tightly, pushing and pulling you along his clothed cock, your foreheads pressed together, breathing mingling as you both panted. Even like this, with the delicious drag of your cunt against him, your orgasm was building. You whimpered as Mitsuya stopped and pulled you off his lap suddenly, having noticed Draken pull away and motion for him to stand you up.

“What?” You said breathlessly and were quickly answered by Draken pulling off your shorts and panties, tapping you lightly on the thigh to encourage you to step out of them. Your arousal dripped down your thighs, unrestricted by the lack of clothing. He ran a finger through your folds, and your hips twitched as his long, thick finger eagerly sunk into your pussy.

“So fuckin’ wet,” Draken watched from behind as his finger sunk in and out of your sloppy cunt. Your moans filled the room, and you ground yourself against his hand, looking for more, more, more.

Draken’s finger pulled from your core, and you grunted in frustration, once again denied of your pleasure. You should have known they would both be teases. Draken laid on his back under you, quickly pulling you down to your knees and positioning you over his mouth, encouraging you to sit. The first swipe of his tongue against you had you seeing stars. Mitsuya lurched forward, once again capturing your lips and swallowing your moans.

“You taste so fuckin’ good, princess,” Draken’s voice was muffled between your thighs.

Mitsuya sat back again, a string of saliva connecting you both before it broke, and he wiped it off your chin with a swipe of his thumb. Your eyes were already glossy, lust-blown pupils joining with his own. The lavender of his iris’ was engulfed in darkness as he watched your face contort, and your mouth dropped over at the pleasure Draken was wringing from your body. You reached forward and pulled at his sweats, eager to taste him and feel him heavy against your tongue.

That smirk returned as he lifted his hips and pushed his sweats and boxers down enough to free his aching cock. The tip was leaking precum, and you instantly leaned forward, licking it from his slit before wrapping your lips around his head and taking him into the hot cavern of your mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” Mitsuya bucked up into your mouth. “Slow— fuck, fuck— slow down, beautiful. You’re gonna make me cum if you keep going like that. God damn, you’re so fucking good.” Mitsuya swept your hair from your face, watching as you looked up at him through your lashes, moaning each time his cock disappeared between your lips. Your moans were muffled around him, and each vibration rocketed him towards the edge quicker and quicker.

Draken’s tongue dipped in and out of your pussy before he locked his lips around your clit and sucked, pulling the bud into his mouth, his tongue flicking over it before he would let go and repeat the process. Your hips ground against his face shamelessly, chasing your high, and Draken was more than willing to get you there. Your taste was sweet. Sweeter than he could have ever imagined—he wanted more. He wanted to feel more of your cunt pulsing around his tongue and hear more of your sweet moans. He wanted to hear you scream as you came on his face, riding out your high, bucking your hips as you came down. It was a sound he was growing addicted to quickly. He dipped his tongue back into you, moving his face side to side as his nose bumped against your clit, giving you the stimulation you craved. Your muffled moans grew around Mitsuya’s cock as Draken worked your pussy like an expert.

Your hand wrapped around Mitsuya’s cock as you popped him from your lips, the sloppy way you were sucking his cock giving you more than enough to stroke him from base to tip as you focused on chasing your orgasm, too overwhelmed to keep sucking him. Which he wasn’t against. He didn’t want to cum down your throat. He wanted to feel your pussy around him when you made him cum with your body for the first time. He had been dangerously close, panting and throwing his head back as his eyes rolled, losing focus as he felt you bob on his cock. It was the best he had ever felt, the years of knowing each other somehow translating into the knowledge of knowing what he liked.

“Ken, fuck. Ken, don’t stop. Please, please, please,” your begging was sobbed and broken. So close to your orgasm that you could feel it teetering on edge; one final flick of his tongue against your clit, and you were gone. Your orgasm exploded from your body with a loud scream of the man's name who brought you to it leaving your lips, and he drank down every ounce of your release, groaning at the taste and bucking his hips into the air. He almost came from the sound of his name leaving your mouth. Your legs shook on either side of his head, constricting tightly until he tapped your thigh again, and you shakingly forced them open, allowing him to shimmy out from under you and sit up.

“You did so fuckin’ good for me, baby,” Draken kissed at your neck before starting to pull your shirt, one he realized was his with a little bit of pride, over your head, quickly unhooking your bra. You smiled at the praise, slowly coming down from the earth-shattering orgasm. Mitsuya’s tongue poked out between his lips as he saw your tits, perfect in every way. He reached up and cupped one, loving how it fits in his hand. He rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it to a taught peak before letting go. You moaned, the slight motion building into overstimulation.

They rubbed their hands over your body, exploring your curves as your breathing returned to normal. Mitsuya grabbed your sides when your eyes opened and locked with his. He needed you. He needed to feel you wrapped around him. He had managed to calm down enough, determined to get you to cum before he did. He quickly lifted you and placed you back in his lap before wrapping his hand around the base of his cock and rubbing it through your soaked folds. His tip caught on your clit as he did, collecting the wetness before slowly pulling you down on him.

He looked down to where you were connected, mouth agape as he took in the sight of his cock disappearing into your drenched pussy. His cock was big, longer than girth, but he knew the sting of the stretch was there as he glanced back up at your face, and your eyebrows were pinched together. You both moaned when you were fully seated on him.

“Oh my god, Taka,” your voice was breathy as you spoke. “You feel so good.”

He was curved enough that as he gave gentle thrusts into you, you could feel him drag against the sensitive spot tucked against your walls. Each time he did, you relaxed until he could move more freely. Mitsuya angled his hips just enough so that each time he pulled you up and down, the head of his cock would bully that spot over and over.

“More, Takashi.” His name was a prayer on your lips. His eyes slid shut as he thrust into you, matching each drop of your hips. Your thumb pulled on his chin, forcing him to look at you again.

“Don’t close ‘em. Wanna see as you fuck me.”

“Holy shit,” Mitsuya breathed, his hips stuttering at your words.

The couch sank as Draken took up Mitsuya’s original spot, slowly stroking his now-freed cock as he watched. He was mesmerized by the way your tits bounced with each pound Mitsuya pushed into your body. The sound of skin-on-skin mixes with the collective grunts and moans filling the room.

“Play with her tits, Mitsuya.”

Mitsuya instantly complied, returning to his earlier motions of pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers. His mouth latched onto the other, biting gently and sucking it into a taught peak before letting go to blow cold air over it. Mitsuya could feel your pussy pulsing as he pushed you to another orgasm, gripping and tightening around his cock as he bullied his way in.

“You’re so tight,” he said, pulling your breast back into his mouth, moaning against the skin. “Gonna make me cum. Fuck, I’m gonna cum. C’mon, baby. C’mon. C’mon.”

Mitsuya’s hand snaked between your bodies, pushing his thumb to your clit and rubbing tight circles into it. Your legs trembled as he did. You felt the fiery building sensation as you neared another high, uncaring as your moans grew in volume, too lost in how you felt. Everything Mitsuya did to your body was rushing you towards the edge, every kiss and snap of his hips enough to clear your mind and fuck you until all that was left was him. The twitch of his cock and the falter in the rhythm of his hips were the signs of his impending release.

“Gonna cum, Takashi. Cum in me, please, please. Wanna feel your cum.”

“Fuuuck,” the word was drawn out from Draken, and he gripped the base of his cock, fending off the orgasm that threatened to spurt from him at your words.

Mitsuya’s hips stuttered once more, and his eyes met your glazed-over ones as he pulled you down once, twice, three times more, and your pussy pulsed hard, wrapping him in a vice as you came, sending him over the edge as you milked him for all he was worth. Each spurt of cum was pushed into you with a twitching thrust of his hips, forcing it deep into you. Each time a moan was ripped from the back of his throat, guttural and deep.

You collapsed against him, chest to chest, while you both panted. Not pulling in oxygen quickly enough to replace what you were losing. Mitsuya cupped your cheek, pressing gentle kisses against your lips, and you moaned gently into him. He slowly pulled you off his softening cock with a whimpering moan, unashamed of the sound that left him. He watched his cum leak from your abused cunt and down your thigh. Your body was like jelly as he handed you to Draken, who was waiting, cock rock hard and begging to be buried in you.

You hummed gently, lifting a hand and carding it through your next new lover's hair. His eyes were soft as he assessed you, looking for any signs of discomfort.

“Hey, handsome.”

“Think you can go one more, baby?” Draken gently kissed your jaw, continuing down your neck and back up before slowly locking his lips with yours. He knew your body was worked over. He had waited this long. But, if he needed to wait longer, he gladly would. You reached between you and gripped his cock, pumping once before running your finger over the tip, collecting the precum, and stroking him again. Draken hissed at the contact between his teeth, a sharp intake of air.

Mitsuya chuckled from behind you. “Think that means she’s ready.”

Draken let you line his cock up with your entrance, and you slowly sank down, whimpering at the feel of him, at the stretch that knocked the breath from your lungs. He was bigger than Mitsuya, and you were thankful for the two orgasms they coaxed you to.

“Take it slow, baby,” Draken said through gritted teeth. “So fucking tight.”

Mitsuya hummed in agreement. Watching as you sank yourself down. Watching your back muscles flex and twitch as you took Draken into your core was intoxicating. Your arms wrapped around the corded muscles of his neck, and you leaned forward, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. It was art, the way he observed you. If he could draw this moment, capture how you looked now, pressed against Draken’s body as his hands flexed on your hips, grounding himself to this universe, he would.

Draken resisted every urge to thrust himself up into you or pin you to the couch and push your legs to your chest to pound into your tight cunt relentlessly. He wanted you to have this moment. To let you give yourself to him in your way and your time. It was a level of control he could offer you as you bared yourself to him. Draken wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly close. He gave a testing thrust of his hips upwards, and you met the motion with a roll of your hips. You pushed up on your knees, and Draken planted his feet on the couch, allowing himself the leverage to thrust up into your gushing pussy. Each time the sloppy sounds of your slick mixed with Mitsuya’s cum spurred him on more.

You could tell he was holding back. His arms trembled with restraint, and each grunt against the skin of your neck was strained, rumbling from deep within his chest. Your hand tangled in the hair at the base of his neck, and you gripped tightly, pulling back with a yank. He gasped, his eyes turning feral.

“Stop holding back, Draken.”

A growl burst from his chest, and Mitsuya was moving before either of you, anticipating Draken's movement as he slammed your back onto the couch, capturing your hand between one of his and pinning them above your head. Draken slotted himself back between your thighs, slamming his cock back into you, going deeper than you had ever anticipated. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he started roughly pulling back and sinking into you with a sharp slap of his hips. You hooked a leg around his lower back, angling your hips to allow him to bump up against your g-spot. Tears gathered on your lash line with each thrust. Each choked moan only spurred Draken on as he drank in the sight of you below him, utterly pliant in his hands.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl. Taking our cocks so well,” Drakens words fell from his lips mindlessly, unable to hold them back any longer. “Want me to fill you up, baby? Wanna feel my cum in there with Takashi’s and watch it drip outta your pretty cunt. Our pretty cunt.”

His words were music to your ears, bouncing around in your empty head and filling it with the image of what he described. You never wanted anything more. To be marked by these two men, pumped full of their cum, staking the claim on you that they had spent so many years imagining.

Mitsuya’s eyes were glued to your face, and he resisted the urge to stroke his cock as it twitched to life once more. He watched as your moans grew into silent screams, unable to let out anything more than gasps of air each time Drakens hips slammed against yours. He watched as your eyes rolled back once more and your chest arched off the couch, and your legs shook, quickly realizing these were the signs that you were about to cum. The sharp intake of breath from Draken confirmed as your pussy gripped him tighter, sucking him in deeper, begging for more, more, more, just as your vision whited out and you came with a muted cry.

“Fuck. That’s it, sweetheart. So. Fucking. Tight.” Every word was accentuated with a thrust, coaxing you through your high until he finally stilled, body shaking as he let go, letting his orgasm ripple up his back. Spurt after spurt of hot cum emptied into you, stuffing you impossibly full. Draken pushed his forehead to yours, rubbing at your wrists where he held them as he panted, eyes shut and hair sticking to his face. He gently eased out of you once his cock had softened, and the mixture of your, his, and Mitsuya’s cum leaked from your abused hole. He ran two fingers through it, pushing it back in, smirking as you whimpered at the touch.

“That’s so fucking hot,” Mitsuya lamented beside you as he tapped Draken’s shoulder with a cold water bottle. You didn’t know when he had disappeared and returned just as quickly. His sweats were back in their place, and his shirt was gone. You took a moment to soak in the sight while Draken pulled you up and into his lap, holding you close against his sweat-slick body. Mitsuya opened the top of your water bottle and handed it to you. The cold liquid was a balm to your horde throat, raw and overused from the screams and moans.

“You did so well, Princess,” Mitsuya said against the crown of your head as he pressed his lips to it.

Draken grunted in agreement, tucking his head into the crook of your neck. Your scent was a mix of your own and theirs now. In a primal way, some part of him preened at the smell.

You were finally theirs.

Draken had never been so sure of something in his life that this was how it was meant to be.

Mitsuya held your hand tightly as you walked down the street, heading toward D&D Motors. Mikey had called your boyfriend earlier, a giggle in his voice as he asked you to meet him at the shop. Mitsuya had rolled his eyes when the call ended, unphased by Mikey’s antics and dreading what he could be planning. Draken had also gotten the call, annoyed that he would be going into the shop on his day off.

You glanced down at your phone as it buzzed in your freehand.

“Oh, Draken just got there. He said he’s going to wait for us out front.”

You turned the corner a few moments later and skipped a little as you saw Draken standing there, hands tucked tightly into his pockets. Mitsuya let your hand slip from his as you rushed forward, flinging yourself into the bigger man's arms, and he oofed as he steadied himself with a step back at your force.

“Hey, baby. Miss me?”

You pressed a kiss to his lips as you nodded. He had been out running errands all morning, picking up parts for customers, and visiting other shops in the area.

“What does Mikey have planned?”

Draken rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around your shoulders as Mitsuya finally closed the distance between you at his leisure pace. “Hell only knows with him.”

The bell over the door jingled as Draken pushed it open. The shop was dark as you entered and looked around. You did see anyone.

“Yo! Mikey!” Draken called into the shop.

“Back here, Ken-chin!” His best friend yelled back from where all the parks were parked. Mitsuya cocked an eyebrow at you both before leading the way.

You all pulled to a stop when you saw all your friends crowded into the area and a banned over their heads that read, “It’s About Damn Time!”

#mitsuya x reader #takashi x reader #mitsuya takashi x reader #mitsuya takashi smut #draken x reader #ken ryuguji x reader #draken smut #ken ryuguji smut #hurt/comfort #draken x reader x takashi #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyorev x reader #tokyo rev fanfic #tokyo revengers fanfiction

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lazycats-stuff · 4 months

Note

How about one where Bruce and M!Reader have been dating for a while. Reader lives in the manor and everyone in the family has opened up to reader accept Damien. One night when reader is babysitting Damien while everyone else is out reader is able to finally get through to Damien. He really opens up to reader and even ends up falling asleep in readers lap much to the shock of everyone. Reader becomes Damien’s favorite person and he is always practically clinging to readers side. If not it’s totally fine!

Oh yes! Bruce would wonder for ages. Also, no specific version of Bruce in mind, imagine any version you want. This gif popped up first.

Summary: (Y/N) does something that no one was able to do. Damian opened up.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of psychological warfare, (Y/N) is patient man, Damian is not trusting, did I mention fluff?,

(Y/N) and Bruce were match made in heaven according to Bruce's three boys plus Alfred. Bruce and (Y/N) have been dating for 3 years and (Y/N) has moved in just a few months ago to live with Bruce. The 3 boys were happy. One wasn't. But we will get to that later.

Every member of this house, expect for one, loved (Y/N). At first they thought that he was a gold digger and was just looking for money and fame. Couldn't be further from the truth. Bruce even trusted (Y/N) to tell him that he's Batman.

He was often supportive of them, didn't try to stop them, or talk them out of it or snitched. In fact, before (Y/N) moved into the manor, he would leave little snacks for the boys and Bruce to take during patrol. He slept during that period because he has a job and he can't work while sleepy.

Everyone loved it. Besides Damian, but we will get to him later. Of course, they all went to the apartment to get those snacks. It was a nice change and those snacks were lit. They gave them an energy boost and they were all happy to have the boost that runs out when they get home.

And there was one important thing that (Y/N) has that Bruce is not really known for it. Emotional availability. Boys came by to his apartment when they needed to talk to him about anything and they would be sure that (Y/N) wouldn't tell anything to Bruce unless it was serious.

Now, when Bruce proposed to (Y/N), everyone was happy. Besides Damian, but that was then. The 3 out of the 4 four boys were happy that they had a stable person alongside Alfred and they would be happy to have a second parental figure, considering that Bruce was slightly overwhelmed and needed support he needed.

Of course, the media caught wind of this and was all over (Y/N) for it. It was difficult to live a normal life, but since he was an author, he spent his time at home and just decided to keep going out to a minimum. Bruce made sure he was taken care of, knowing it wasn't easy.

(Y/N) moved in when his address got leaked and the press started hounding him even more. Bruce already wanted (Y/N) to move in, even before he proposed to him. So, one weekend, (Y/N) packed his stuff and Bruce helped him move to the manor, making some space in his room, just for (Y/N).

Everyone was happy and helped (Y/N) in any way to help him settle in. Besides Damian. Damian wasn't happy by any means and he didn't like any of this. His mother should have been the one in (Y/N)'s spot.

So what does Damian do in that situation?

Psychological warfare it is. (Y/N) found his stuff going missing from time to time. Damian would be close to him one day, then distant and cold the other and there was no way to see if he was actually any progress. Then, it got a little bit more extreme.

Damian tried to mess with him even more, more directly. Bruce and the others tried to persuade Damian and Bruce knew that punishment would only fuel the problem. (Y/N) knew that he had to prove himself to Damian that he could stand in this family.

So, (Y/N) asked Bruce to train him. To show him the ropes. Bruce was surprised and he could see why, he was hesitant, but did it anyway. Now, (Y/N) knew how to fight, knew how to see signs of something psychological happening, such as manipulation and warfare.

(Y/N) was more than ready to take on Damian and crack that tough exterior. Bruce was more than supportive, but worried that (Y/N) doesn't get hurt by Damian. (Y/N) has said that it doesn't matter. He wants Damian to accept him no matter how long it took.

Everything came to a head one evening when everyone needed to go out somewhere and (Y/N) was stuck babysitting Damian. He didn't mind it actually and it was going to be a great time to bond. Of course, if Damian wants to bond. He would never force Damian to bond. It would counter productive.

Right now, he would fancy a movie night or something like that. He made himself comfortable on the couch, a cup of green tea on the coffee table and he got himself a blanket. He put some snacks on the table too and turned on the TV to check what's on.

He could easily go to Netflix and check what to watch. This is going to be a rather nice night.

" You know father doesn't love you? " Damian said from behind the couch, near the kitchen. (Y/N) turned his head to look at him and then took his hot green tea.

" I know he does, otherwise I wouldn't be engaged to him. "

Damian scoffed and moved closer to the couch, but still far enough.

" You can scoff all you want, but I know you hate me because me because you want your mom to be with Bruce so that you can be a family. " (Y/N) said and Damian was quiet. (Y/N) knew he has hit a nail on the head with that statement.

" Also, I know you think I will try to replace your mom, but I won't be trying to. "

Damian scoffed once more and (Y/N) laugh. " Damian, you were raised by assassins and you are the son of Batman. You know when people are bullshitting you. " (Y/N) said and took a sip of his tea.

Damian knew that as well. He could see if someone was lying directly to his face. Damian moved quietly and sat down next to (Y/N), still some distance between the two. (Y/N) didn't say anything as he watched Damian, waiting for him to start. He waited for Damian to start talking.

" I... Do you know anything about my upbringing? " Damian asked (Y/N), crossing his arms, still defensive.

" I just know it was rough. Some said hell. I don't know any specifics. " (Y/N) explained and sipped his tea.

" Well... It could be described as hell... I was taught to kill anyone in 50 different way using a single object. I was never really shown love, only seen an heir to the league and the son of Batman. " Damian started and (Y/N) put his tea down, giving him his full attention.

Damian stayed silent before he started talking once more. " I was trained to be an assassin and love was... Not a thing there. When I came here, I was still cold, despite everyone trying to be nice to me. I guess deep down, I still missed my mother. When you entered the picture, I was pissed. I thought you wanted to replace my mom. " Damian paused for a moment.

(Y/N) watched him in silence. He allowed him to compose himself.

" And you were nice, so I got suspicious. Even when father recently proposed to you, I was mad and pissed." Damian said, frowning and shaking his head. " I couldn't understand why you would be so loving towards us. But I see the way father looks at you and how much he loves you and how much he has opened up emotionally. The way everyone has... " Damian stopped and moved closer to (Y/N) who lifted a blanket to let Damian get closer.

Damian did just that and he hugged (Y/N). (Y/N) wanted to scream from happiness, but he had to remain calm. " And when you didn't leave when I messed with you, there was something more than intrigued me about you. "

(Y/N) put his hand on Damian's shoulder and Damian relaxed. " I'm guessing I didn't get any love when I was younger so I guess I was just repellent to love. "

(Y/N) smiled and hugged Damian. " Don't blame yourself. I don't blame you at all. If you feel bad, we can start over completely. A new slate. Clean slate. " (Y/N) suggested and Damian nodded and (Y/N) saw a small smile on Damian's face.

" Good. " (Y/N) said, smiling widely and watched as Damian put his head on his lap, before covering himself with the blanket. I smile and pat his head.

" I know it's not easy to trust me, but I'm here for the long run. " (Y/N) said and Damian let out a hum.

" Are you tired? " (Y/N) asked and Damian nodded, closing his eyes. (Y/N) didn't say anything and caressed Damian's hair. (Y/N) smiled widely, happy that Damian liked him.

Bruce and the others came back home, worried beyond belief. Is (Y/N) hurt? Is he even alive? Bruce and the others checked the living room, one worried for his fiancé, the others worried for their dad number two.

Well, they didn't expect to see Damian sleeping in (Y/N)'s lap, looking calm and peaceful. (Y/N) shushed them with bringing his finger to his lips. He smiled back at Damian who shuffled a little bit, looking like he was going to wake up, but he remained asleep.

Bruce's jaw dropped a little.

" Hi. " (Y/N) whispers and Bruce smiled, melting at the sight of Damian laying on (Y/N)'s lap. The other 3 boys are still in shock.

" How? " Bruce whispered back as he moved closer to the duo.

" He opened up on his own. " (Y/N) whispers and Bruce cards his hand through Damian's short hair.

" Really? " Bruce whispered and kissed (Y/N)'s forehead.

" Yes. I think Damian and I will bond more. " (Y/N) whispered back, smiling. He kisses Bruce softly and looks back at Damian.

" Lets get him to bed and then get you to sleep. I'm afraid that I have to go on patrol tonight. " Bruce explains and take Damian into his arms. (Y/N) stands up and says hi to his other sons. He gave each a hug, before going to his room to sleep. He made sure that Damian is tucked in the bed and Bruce made sure he tucked Damian in correctly.

After that night, Damian was always near (Y/N), following him around, making sure he was safe at all time. Can you blame Damian? When ever they are out and doing something, press hounds them and Damian has to make sure that his dad is okay. Like, what did you expect from him?

Bruce didn't say anything as he saw how Damian spent a lot of time with (Y/N). It was nice to see and Bruce know how Damian would protect him from anything that might hurt him.

Now, what shocked Bruce was the first time Damian called (Y/N) dad. It was not something he expected and he had to sit down on the couch for a moment.

The rest of the family lost their collective minds. (Y/N) cried and hugged Damian tightly. He has never been happier and he was officially going to adopt all four of them. He talked to Bruce about adopting those four, but only when they all accepted them.

Now he was going to do just that, without a doubt. The others also called him dad, but Damian calling him that? (Y/N) was officially happy and could move to adopt all four boys. He would do that once he marries Bruce and since Bruce has connections, he could speed the thing up.

Now, does any of this mean that Damian is (Y/N)'s favorite son? Nope. He loved all of them equally. Maybe a little bit more than Bruce. And now, even when (Y/N) and his sons are now cuddling on the couch, watching a movie, (Y/N) has never felt so calm and relaxed.

This was something that he wishes never stops. Bruce may have or may have not snapped a few pictures.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader

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morallyinept · 7 months

Text

I don't rant very often - it's negative energy that I don't want or need in my life - but I feel that as a fan of Pedro Pascal, I'd like to take a moment to highlight what being a fan actually means.

As clearly, some people, some "fans", have demonstrated having a hard time grasping that concept...

Being a fan of Pedro Pascal means I enjoy his career, his portfolio of works.

Sure, I enjoy his physical looks too; the man is certainly as handsome as they come, let's be real here. Yes, I find him attractive.

More importantly, I enjoy what Pedro stands for; his beliefs, his passions. He stands up for injustice, he is an LGBTQIA+ advocate and friend. He is a feminist. He is politcal. He's proud of his heritage.

Is Pedro perfect? Do I believe the sun shines out of his ass? No, he's human and has flaws and off days like the rest of us.

Ain't no-one that is perfect, babe. That's delusion talking if you truly believe that.

I enjoy that Pedro inspires me to be a better human being.

Being a true fan, to me, means only positive things.

It means respect.

It means respecting Pedro's boundaries, be that in person, or online.

It means respecting Pedro's privacy. He has the right, just like any one of us, to a personal life seperate from his career.

Pedro doesn't have to answer to you, me, or anyone else about his private life.

You are not entitled to him, or his time, just because he is a celebrity. (God, I fucking hate that word.) He does not owe you anything, and nor should he be expected to.

Pedro Pascal is a human being.

As a fan of Pedro, I will not write fanfic about him. Only his characters, because his characters are primarily the reason why I admire Pedro. His characters are how I discovered Pedro to begin with.

He can make me laugh, cry, fall in love, wince when he loses an arm, gasp when he double crosses the protagonist. I can survive a fungal apocalypse with his characters by my side.

That's an incredible testament to his talent as an actor that no matter what role he plays, I don't see Pedro on the screen. I only see his characters.

It's his job and he enjoys it. As a fan, I enjoy his craft.

If you do write about Pedro, that's up to you and I am not going to judge, but for me personally, it's a hard no. And I won't be reading any of it either, sorry.

As a fan of Pedro, I can draw the line between fantasy and reality. Meaning, I would never go out of my way to invite, devise, plant myself in deliberately, or exploit a situation where Pedro is in my personal space, or I in his.

Firstly, I'm a realist. And secondly if I ever met the guy, chances are I'd walk right past him and not even notice. (It's happened a lot, not with Pedro but with other actors etc... I live in the capital, there are a lot of them here.)

And thirdly, I am not a stalker.

I would never intentionally track him down in another country whilst he is working or vacationing, and then post about how slighted I am on IG that he told me to politely leave him alone because I was too persistent in getting too close. I would never relocate and uproot my life just to live near him in the hopes we bump into one another and fall desperately in love. 🙄

This is real life people, not a movie.

This kind of behaviour from Pedro's so-called fans is questionable, and frankly concerning to anyone with a sane mind.

I would also never bully or belittle anyone because their fan account is more popular than mine. I would never actively enforce or seek to enforce the deliberate closure of any fan accounts because I am petty or jealous.

Unfortunately this has happened and I am sorry to have heard about those who were affected by it - you did not deserve that.

Sadly, all these things have happened. For real. And it's utterly gross behaviour from, in most cases, fully grown women who are old enough to know better.

We are all here to enjoy and support Pedro, so why is that such a hard concept to grasp? Why does fandom have a toxic corner?

I'll tell you why.

Because thanks to social media, and platforms like Tumblr, it's all too easy to sit faceless behind a keyboard and do and say whatever you want, without any real consequence.

There are always a few bad eggs, in any fandom, who feel they are superior, that they know everything. That because they found a new image or a clip first that they are entitled to police everything. That they are entitled to dictate how fandom should be run.

I've got news for you; you're not.

Fandom is inclusive, sharing, a creative hub for ideas, inspiration. A place to forge friendships, relationships because you have common ground. The coming together of like-minded individuals to celebrate and endorse their admiration for their idol in a safe, non-threatening place.

A place for creativity to flow, for confidence in yourself to grow. To create original stories from canon, to create unique head canon because we don't want these lovable characters to die. To paint amazing pictures. To get excited over Pedro's new projects and discuss your favourites.

That's fandom. That's being a fan.

Being a fan doesn't mean creating, spreading, peddling or posting harmful material that 1) is frankly abhorrently disgusting and is not only insulting to Pedro, but also his family, his friends etc... and 2) could also be potentially damaging to his career.

I am referring to the vile deepfake of Pedro currently doing the rounds now on Tumblr because some idiot thought it was funny to clog up our timelines with it.

I don't want, or need, to see that, thanks.

And whoever created it originally should be fucking ashamed of themselves. I would wholly encourage you to report and block any accounts that have done this.

Imagine how you would feel if your face, your image was used and violated in that way.

You'd be outraged, right? Hurt? Sickened?

This kind of manipulation of AI is exactly what the WGA and SAG-AFTRA are concerned about and were/are striking for.

What Pedro is striking for, and then someone has the gall to pull this sickening stunt.

It's what artists are concerned about. What writers are concerned about. AI wasn't created to be abused in this way.

So, what makes you think that all this behaviour is acceptable to do to a man, who is nothing but generous and kind?

A man who would give you help, no questions asked, if he ran into you, in his own words:

And you have the audacity to call yourselves fans?

A man who, if he knew, what his "fans" do, I'm certain he would be absolutely disgusted and not condone any of it.

☝🏻Let me make it abundantly clear:

If you have looked for, deliberately searched for, posted, jerked off to, liked or shared that vile deepfake clip, video, pic - whatever the fuck it is - in any way then, YOU ARE NO FAN OF PEDRO PASCAL.

And I am certainly no fan of yours.

Do better. Don't be a dick.

#pedro pascal #jett has spoken

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ilongfor-the-arts · 6 months

Text

Tea and Music

Pairing: Marquis de Gramont x fem! Reader

Warnings: smut!, language, mild begging, choking, unprotected sex, use of “good girl”

Summary: Part two of Poetry in Motion! These are the events that happen after Marquis meets our ballerina reader.

Word Count: 6.7k

Read Part one HERE!!!

Taglist: @jiawalker

The limo crushed the small stones under its tires as it drove along the white gravel path. The entire estate was completely covered in trees and green once we passed through the golden gates. I couldn't see the sides of the gate from the car, so I assumed his estate extended for miles.

Not a blade of grass was out of place.

I would have flirted with Vincent sooner if I had known he was concealing a mansion.

Our conversation two nights ago was extremely straightforward. He introduced himself, and I asked him one question before he insisted on speaking with me in person.

His address was on a street I'd never heard of before. I thought that perhaps it was in the Paris slums. His fancy suits and elegant demeanor were just a ruse to convince people he was wealthy.

But, alas, he lives in a mansion. Who would’ve guessed?

As the car approached the large front doors, I tried to hide my surprise. His house was something out of a movie. To take it all in, I had to turn my head completely left and right. It possessed at least three levels. It was made of lovely white vintage brick and black shingles. Two poles supported an enormous balcony on opposite sides of the large double front doors.There were dozens of tall arched windows. The architecture was inspired by the French countryside, but it was elevated to the highest level.

It appeared vintage and loved, but not worn.

“Alright madame, we are here.”

My trance was broken by the posh driver.

“Oh, yes.”

He opened the door for me, offering his hand to ensure that I would not be inconvenienced in the slightest.

I could grow accustomed to this type of treatment.

I hoisted myself up by grasping his smooth palm.

“Have a pleasant visit, madame.”

He spoke with a classy accent. His elegance, however, couldn't compete with Vincent's. The elderly driver jumped back into the driver's seat and began bustling away, rocks crunching beneath the tires.

I cocked my head upwards, hesitant. I could feel nerves brewing within my stomach. The butterflies were flying free. I took a deep breath, steadying my mind.

I honed in on the rustling of the trees, waiting until the butterflies had completely dissipated.

I couldn’t believe I was about to enter the home of a man I had just met.

I knew his name.

I knew he liked ballet.

I knew where he lived.

And, that’s it.

I climbed the few steps leading to the glass double doors.

Should I knock?

No, he was expecting me.

I gently pushed open the door. The hinges didn't creak in the least.

The doors opened to reveal a large room with white marble floors and a double staircase that swirled to the top floor. The banisters were made of gold, the dark wood walls were covered in expensive-looking paintings, and each room was separated by a large, open arch.

“Hello? I’m here!”

The waves of my voice echoed around the large, nearly empty room. I felt dwarfed by the high ceilings.

“Welcome.”

my heart skipped a beat. Vincent appeared out of nowhere, sauntering through the archway on my left, hands in pockets.

He remained silent, waiting for me to break the tension.

“Uh-Thank you for having me… your house is beautiful.”

As the gravity of the situation became clear, my tone became somewhat shaky. Vincent gave a small smile.

“Thank you very much. I have quite a few estates-“

Woah, woah, woah. A few estates? As in more than one?

“But this one is by far my favorite. It’s lavish, and quiet.”

The trees gently rustled. In the distance, birds chirped. My heart was pounding in my ears.

“See? Nothing. No sounds except those of nature.”

My knees shook. Those two previous statements felt like one big, blatant sexual innuendo. I hoped that sex wasn't the sole reason for having me in this lovely estate that just so happened to have no neighbors for miles.

He leaned against the wooden arch, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his dress pants. Vincent furrowed his brow as he observed my concern.

“Please, don’t be worried. I know I was just given the pleasure of becoming your acquaintance. But, I assure you, I possess a sophisticated character.”

The corners of his mouth turned upwards.

“Come.”

He said this as he stepped away from the arch, motioning for me to follow him into the next room.

“I have something I believe you will enjoy.”

I returned his stare. His beautiful eyes shone with warmth. He seemed to have changed slightly now that I was in his house. He appeared to be... more at ease. Neither his gaze nor his tone indicated any discomfort. He was no longer concerned with maintaining any sort of facade.

I couldn't bring myself to be afraid of him.

I smiled.

“Alright.”

My short heels clacked against the marble. As I strolled past him, I captured his familiar scent and was overcome with nostalgia.

The room I entered was significantly smaller than the one prior. Rather than being adorned in paintings, there was merely one green landscape above the unlit fireplace. One wall was entirely covered in wooden shelves, each of which was crammed to the brim. When I looked closer, I noticed that each section was filled with vinyl records. Some are still wrapped in plastic, while others have clearly been loved for years.

“Oh wow! You have quite the collection!”

I exclaimed as I ran my fingers along the spines of various records. Marquis laughed, amused by my intense interest.

“Oh wow!”

I had to use a surprising amount of force to pry one of the vinyls off the shelf as it was jammed into a completely full rack.

“You have the music from Giselle!”

Vincent strolled over to me, leaning over my shoulder to observe what had captured my attention. It was a record, with a lady and man engaged in dance. The lady wore a blouse and bodice, while the man donned tights and a decorated top.

“Do you enjoy this ballet?”

His hot breath cascaded across my face and neck as he inquired. A shiver ran down my spine as I realized he had placed his frame directly behind mine.

“Yes, I do. I was in it a long time ago. And, ever since it’s been one of my favorites.”

“Ah, you were in it?”

I flipped the vinyl to the back, reading each track and reminiscing.

“Yes, I was Giselle.”

“But of course you were.”

I scoffed, dismissing his high opinions of me.

“It really was not that impressive. It was a small community theater, and it was years ago before I decided to pursue ballet professionally.”

“It makes little difference where you do it. I'm sure you danced as well as someone from the Opéra National de Paris. Your talent is just as visible in a small theater as it is in the world's largest.”

I pushed my finger between two vinyls to create a gap so I could slip the record back into its original position.

“You flatter me.”

Vincent dragged his fingertips along the spines. As he did so, I fixed my attention along his veiny digits, my brain beginning to slip into places it hadn't been in a long time. I closed my eyes, forcing my mind to return to the present. Vincent drew his gaze across the records, studying them and searching for a specific item.

“Ah!”

He discovered what he was looking for.

“Swan Lake, another one of my favorites.”

He pulled it from the shelf and began to study it.

“Tchaikovsky's music is a work of art. He manipulates the instruments, allowing them to move in a poetic manner. It truly is unparalleled.”

He cocked his head to the side, meeting my eyes.

“Do you enjoy this ballet?”

He raised his brows, inviting me to respond. I shuffled towards his hot body, nodding.

“Yes, of course, it’s a classic.”

This cover depicted a woman bending over a lake, with a swan at her side. Beautiful blues were used to paint the entire cover.

“One of my dream roles is the swan queen.”

Vincent's lanky fingers pried the record's cover apart, and he slid the vinyl into his palm.

“One day, that role will be yours. I have no doubt about it.”

He handled the record with extreme grace and care. Despite being a large and rather intimidating man, his touch was featherlight. He opened a small cabinet located in the middle of the shelves with his opposite hand, revealing a beautiful maroon record player.

“And when you appear as the swan queen, it will be your role for the rest of your life. The audience will know instantaneously that no performance before or after yours will compare.”

Vincent placed the needle on the record's edge. The sound of a rich oboe filled the entire room. He placed his hands on his hips and viewed the black circle spin in a circle. The atmosphere became cozy and inviting. Despite being in a secluded mansion in the middle of the French countryside, I felt oddly at home. My heartbeat was regular.

Vincent glanced over his shoulder.

“Do you drink tea?”

He inquired.

I was so enthralled by Vincent's lovely figure that I had to shake myself awake when he spoke.

“Oh! Yes, of course. I love tea.”

Vincent unbuttoned the cuffs of his white dress shirt, rolling his sleeves up to reveal lovely veins dancing across his forearms. I gulped, my face growing hotter as butterflies began to hatch within my lower abdomen.

“Would you care to drink tea with me on the porch as we indulge in this lovely music?”

I nodded, unable to hide the grin playing on the corners of my mouth.

“I would like that very much.”

Vincent brought out a large silver tray, atop which was a lovely china set with pink flowers and gold stems.

“I would expect a wealthy man like you to have help. Rich men don’t make their own tea.”

I said, my tone slightly mocking. Vincent chuckled, plopping down onto the cream colored cushions.

“I don't usually make my own tea. But I specifically requested that we spend the day alone. The bustle of people detracts from the peaceful energy.”

I put a sugar cube in one of the adorable cups and poured tea on top, watching the sugar break and dissolve.

I picked up the saucer and leaned back, my body relaxing against the plush cushions. I had a fantastic view. My back was to the house, leaving the entire garden open for inspection. The green stretched as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by a few healthy trees. The property had a gray gravel path that twisted and turned. At the horizon, the gentle hill of the land met the flawless blue sky.

The scenery was lovely. I wish I knew how to paint.

My hair was tousled by a gentle breeze. The soothing music wafted through the house, reaching my ears as a mere whisper.

“Are you enjoying the view?”

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, savoring the cozy energy as I sipped my tea. The steaming liquid poured down my throat, warming me from within.

“Yes, it’s beautiful.”

I rested the cup in my lap.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself? I feel like we talk so much about me.”

I said, chuckling slightly.

Vincent sipped his tea while crossing his legs and gazing out at the horizon. His gorgeous side profile was highlighted by the gentle glow of the sun.

“My life is… not very interesting.”

His demeanor had transformed. Instead of being charming, he had become aloof.

“Oh, I’m sure your life is plenty interesting. I mean, come on, this house is ginormous! What do you do?”

Vincent grit his teeth, avoiding the question.

“I made all of my money in real estate.”

He returned my gaze, his fondness restored.

“Oh! That sounds interesting.”

I took another sip of my delicious tea.

“You must’ve gotten extremely lucky.”

He flashed me a tight smile.

“Yes, absolutely. I consider myself extremely fortunate to be where I am now.”

The birds in the distance chirped peacefully, blending with the music to create a cohesive energy that flowed through my being.

“Please, tell me if I am crossing any boundaries with this question.”

I perked up. He had piqued my interest.

“However, you are a very attractive woman. And you are constantly expressing yourself through the arts. I find it difficult to believe you don't have suitors flocking to you at all times.”

I gulped, my gaze fixed on the tea in my lap.

“Well, honestly, it’s difficult to keep a relationship when you’re constantly either in the theater, or searching for your next opportunity. The little free time I have almost never lines up with the free time of others.”

He fixed his gaze on me, listening intently to every word I said. I'd never had a conversation with a man who was so enthralled by me.

“I’ve had relationships, but it's difficult to make them stick. Lately, I’ve kinda given up. It’s stressful, y’know?”

Vincent hummed.

“Yes, I can imagine.”

He sipped his tea one last time, leaning back completely to display his stunning neck. He leaned forward and placed the china cup atop its saucer before assuming his previous position.

"Well, with me, you never have to worry about that, ma chérie." My few important obligations rarely interfere with my personal life. And, if they do, I promise to commit to our relationship and not let it fall through the cracks."

His dedication surprised me. I raised my brows.

“Well, that is very kind of you. I appreciate the reassurance.”

“That is, if pursuing a relationship with me is something that entices you.”

His statement piqued my interest. I suppose I hadn't considered the question, "What are we?" I was definitely interested in pursuing a relationship with him, despite only having become acquainted a few days ago. I felt a genuine connection, and I'd be a fool to pass up this opportunity.

Also, the reality that he was filthy rich drew me to him.

I finished the sweet tea, placing it on the black wire coffee table.

“Yes, I believe I would be interested in that.”

I gave him a genuine smile, which he returned.

“Good, I am glad to hear that.”

He folded his hands and tucked them into his lap, his gaze following. He was deep in thought, as if caught between reality and his thoughts. Vincent came to after what seemed like an eternity. He returned his gaze to mine. His attention had been drawn to a new emotion. He was looking at me with calculating eyes, as if he was carefully pondering what to say next.

This was unusual for him, as he always seemed to know exactly what to say.

“I don’t mean to sound creepy when I say this, but I have been admiring you for a while.”

To be honest, I didn't mind. And I didn't think he was creepy at all for expressing his admiration for me.

“In all honesty, I’m flattered. The way I see it, I wouldn’t put myself on the stage if I was afraid of extreme admiration. I mean, that is kind of the goal of a performer. Y’know, to make people fall in love with the performance.”

Vincent nodded, his smile widening. He was pleased with my response.

“I recall seeing you perform for the first time. It was about two years ago, in Coppélia. You played a minor role, but your beauty captivated me, and the more I sought you out, the more I fell in love.”

There was something sensual about the thought of Vincent admiring me from afar for years. It all seemed so forbidden, him watching me from a box, carefully calculating the best time to ask me out.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you ask me out sooner?”

Vincent shrugged.

“I assumed you were in a relationship. I tried to forget about you, but you were always on my mind. Then I didn't see you at the Opéra national de Paris for a year. My job was particularly demanding at that time. It was best if I concentrated solely on that. So I didn't go looking for you. I assumed that chapter of my life had come to an end. Then I notice you're performing in La Bayadère. And I knew that whatever force governs our universe had given me the opportunity to become your acquaintance.”

I couldn’t stop my face from breaking into a grin. I’ll admit, it felt insanely good to be admired by someone.

“Are you a nostalgic person?”

Yes, extremely.

“Yes, I am.”

“Ah!”

He exclaimed, rising to his feet.

“In that case, I have one more thing I think you would like to see.”

I followed him through the house. If I didn’t have him, I would undoubtedly be lost. Each lavish hallway felt as if it extended for miles. I followed, and followed, and followed. Until eventually we reached a pair of black double doors. They were covered in beautiful flower designs. Vincent turned the golden knobs, pushing the doors open to reveal… a bedroom?

Wow.

It was a nice bedroom, to be sure. The floors were tan wood, and the walls were a dark brown color. A large, black chandelier hung from the ceiling with an expensive crystal thread. The bedframe, curtains, and dresser with a large mirror all looked like they were plucked from the queen's bedroom.

In fact, the whole place felt like it belonged to a king. The gold accents, intricate details, and visibly expensive fabrics all gave me the impression that I was in Buckingham Palace.

Vincent headed over to his dresser, which was located on the opposite side of the room as the bed. He began rummaging through various objects, searching for something.

“Ah! Here it is! I knew I kept it!”

He gave me... a leaflet? No, it's a program. It was the program from my first performance ever at the Opera Nacional de Paris, Coppélia. My eyes shot open.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe you kept this!”

I flipped through it, reading the names and contemplating all the wonderful people I'd had the pleasure of working with.

“Of course I kept it.”

I raised my eyes to him. He smiled, pleased that I had found enjoyment in this little bit of nostalgia.

“Um-”

I began.

“I-I don’t mean to take your memories from you.”

I said with a small laugh.

“But, would you mind if I kept this?”

“But of course! There is no need for me to keep a silly little booklet now that I have had the pleasure of meeting the object of my affection.”

We shared a moment of peaceful, happy silence.

“Besides, if it makes you happy, I'll gladly give it to you. We've decided to pursue a relationship. So, it is my responsibility to do everything in my power to please you.”

His gaze darted to my lips before returning to my eyes, implying something taboo.

His eyes grew dark. My posture became stiff. Vincent took a large step towards me, and I had to tilt my head almost completely backwards to look him in the eyes.

I was hit with a wave of déjà vu. I was no longer on the streets of Paris, but rather in Vincent's bedroom. This time, there was nothing preventing us from delving head first into our desires.

He cupped my cheek, running his calloused thumb over my cheekbone. My breath caught in my throat. My lower abdomen was in knots, more from anticipation than from nerves. There wasn't much that could happen on the dark streets of Paris. But suddenly everything was possible and within reach. All I had to do was reach out and grab them.

“The relationships you’ve been in… have any of them had the pleasure of…”

His voice trailed off, beckoning me to finish the thought.

I gulped, a lump forming in my throat.

“No.”

My voice quivered as I felt overpowered by his pressing gaze.

Vincent tutted crispy.

“Pity.”

He stated, his voice lowering to a sensuous whisper. I envisioned him whispering sweet nothings into my ear while thrusting mercilessly into my tight cunt.

My stomach flipped.

My knees shook.

All of the blood in my body rushed to my core.

Wetness began to pool in my panties.

I adjusted my weight uncomfortably, anticipating Vincent's next move.

He leaned forward, his lips inches away from mine. I desperately wanted to break the tension by pressing my mouth to his, thereby beginning the downward spiral of pleasure. However, my train of thought was derailed when I felt Vincent’s opposite hand glide up my thigh.

I squeezed my eyes shut, sighing in pleasure as his digits swiftly located my clothed clit. He tenderly massaged my sensitive bud. The subtle sensation was utterly euphoric. My head bowed forward, my hands anxiously clutching his white dress shirt.

Vincent jerked my head upwards, forcing my misty eyes to lock with his lust blown pupils.

“You’re already so wet, ma chérie. And I have barely even touched you.”

His velvety accent became 10 times more seductive now that it had fallen an octave.

“Oh, it will be so wonderful to watch you come undone.”

He pressed his plush lips to my jugular, applying gentle kisses to my neck as he continued to draw figure eights onto my clothed clit. I threw my arms around his neck, hanging onto his strong frame as my knees threatened to give out.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to bury my face between your thighs and taste your sweet little cunt.”

I couldn’t handle the erotic tone combined with the featherlight touches to my clit. It was far too much for my touch starved body to handle. needed something. I was ravenous for his mouth, his fingers, his cock. I wanted so badly to be destroyed by him, to be given such pleasure that I fear coming back to reality.

“Vincent.”

I said between heavy breaths.

“Yes ma chérie?”

My jaw hung upon, mouth unable to form coherent sentences.

“P-Please. I need you-I need you so bad.”

Vincent drew back, his lips slamming into mine. Our mouths matched like puzzle pieces. We were so glorious together that I swear I could hear angels singing in perfect harmony.

“What would you like me to do to you ma belle, hm?”

He said in between fiery kisses.

“Make me cum, Vincent, please.”

His tongue slid into my mouth, giving me a fleeting taste of his passion before he quickly yanked it back. I was flustered. Our connection had been severed, and I was unsure as to why.

Vincent grasped my chin, forcing me to keep my head still.

His hair was struggling to remain neat. The single, dangling strand was a great metaphor for his once well-kept demeanor now crumbling before my eyes.

“Beg. Beg me to fuck you. Beg me to make you cum.”

He demanded.

Mt jaw quivered. His hand had retreated from my core and now lay atop the swell of my hip.

“P-Please Vincent. I need you. I need you so bad.”

Vincent narrowed his eyes disapprovingly.

“Oh, ma chérie, I know you can do better than that.”

He placed his lips to mine, swiftly reigniting the flame before suffocating it once more.

“Be my good girl and beg.”

I locked gazes with Vincent, feeling his sexual energy course through my body in waves.

“Please-“

I began, my desire somewhat strangling the words within my throat.

“Please Vincent… Please, I need you to make me cum.”

I brought my palms to his chest, attempting to quickly unbutton his dress shirt. Unfortunately, my hands were far too jittery and the buttons were far too small for me to make any significant progress.

“What exactly do you want ma belle, hm? Tell me.”

His velvety accent wafted through me whenever he spoke, adding to the wetness that had begun to pool in my panties.

“Please, please. I need you.”

Thankfully, the sexual tension had subsided just enough for me to compose meaningful sentences.

“Please, please, I need you. I need your mouth between my legs. I need-I need you to fuck me. I need your cock so bad. Please, please make me cum it’s all I can think about.”

A devious smirk spread across Vincent’s face.

“Why didn’t you ask me sooner?”

He connected our lips, reigniting the raging fire of desire that burned between us. Vincent hoisted me off the floor, his large hands traveling up my short sundress and resting against my ass. He carried me with ease, his hands gentle but his lips aggressive.

Vincent tossed me onto the bed with little regard for tenderness. However, I was barely impacted by the blow, as the mattress quickly suppressed and conformed to my physique.

I lay, my gaze fixed upwards towards Vincent’s lanky frame. The dim yet sensual lights foregrounded the sharp curvatures of his face. His long digits located his top button and he began to leisurely undo his shirt without breaking eye contact.

Suddenly, I became aware that my dress had ridden up my thighs, exposing my evident desire. I grasped the hem, pushing it downwards in a futile attempt to conceal my yearning. Vincent ceased his movements, crawling over the end of the bedframe with haste.

His hand wrapped around my wrist, pinning my hand above my head.

My eyes darted upwards, the breath hitching in my throat as I perceived his close proximity. Vincent’s previously quintessential appearance was slowly dissolving. A few strands of hair had broken loose from their original location and were now dangling aimlessly above his brow. Furthermore, his shirt was halfway undone, exposing his prominent collarbone and somewhat highlighting his toned chest.

“Don’t cover up for me, ma belle.”

He murmured, his sultry accent sending a wave of desire to my lower abdomen. My cunt throbbed.

“I want nothing more than to see every inch of you.”

Vincent lodged his thigh between my legs, his clothed knee grazing against my hot core. I jolted, a wave of heat coursing through my body. My back arched instinctively, mouth falling open as I involuntarily ground my hips against his thigh in an effort to increase friction.

Unfortunately, he revoked his leg before I was able to procure further pleasure. His free hand followed the soft curve of my side, sending shivers down my spine. My body became cold with anticipation. Goosebumps rose along my skin.

Vincent’s calloused fingertips grazed against my clothed clit. Heat radiated from my wet core as I squeezed my eyes shut. My brow furrowed as he began to slowly draw figure eights onto my clit.

“Ah, you are so wet and I’ve barely even touched you.”

His soft lips connected to my jugular, peppering gentle kisses down my neck.

“I’ve thought about this moment for a long while.”

With his hands required to support his weight as he descended, his powerful clasp released my wrist. I entangled my fingers in his silky hair, further ruining his pristine image.

“Although I pride myself on maintaining a certain level of class, I can’t deny that I’ve often thought about how satisfying it would be to bring you immense pleasure.”

He continued to press his lips against my hot skin, his face now level with my clothed breasts.

Vincent leaned back on his knees. He dragged his eyes up and down my frame, running his tongue across his bottom lip. I suddenly felt small under his gaze.

His tender fingertips located the ball of my ankle, and he hastily removed both of my short heels, tossing them aimlessly to the floor. After he had discarded my shoes, he trailed his large palms upwards, caressing my calves, then my thighs. I watched intently as his veiny hands slipped under the hem of my dress. Vincent hooked a finger in the waistband of my panties, dragging them down my legs at a painfully slow pace.

Once I was fully exposed, he assumed a position between my legs. Thankfully, the bed was grand enough for him to lay comfortably.

All the blood in my body had rushed to my core, and I could feel my heartbeat throbbing vehemently within my lower abdomen.

Vincent trailed his moist lips along my inner thigh, gazing up at me devilishly through his lashes as he did so. He was well aware that his teasing behavior was propelling me into a state of lust filled desperation.

When he established that he had prolonged my suffering enough, he hastily buried his face between my thighs. I gasped, throwing my head back onto the opulent pillows. My thighs instinctively clenched around his head, but Vincent’s strong hands pulled my legs apart to free himself.

He flattened his tongue against my clit, taking his time to draw out his movements so as to not supply me with an orgasm too hastily. He was thoroughly enjoying the elongation of my pleasure.

After a brief moment of supplying delicate sensations to my clit, I felt the tip of his finger prod at my entrance. I threw my hands upwards, grasping onto the bed frame, my knuckles quickly turning white.

“Oh fuck!”

I exclaimed, grinding my hips against his gorgeous face.

“Vincent-Vincent your mouth feels so good, holy shit.”

I spoke in mangled cries, not caring to keep my voice down. After all, there was no one around for miles to be bothered by my proclamations.

His middle two fingers pushed into my entrance, thrusting upwards to stimulate my walls.

“You taste wonderful, ma belle.”

He uttered, continuing to fuck me with his fingers throguhout the duration of his praise. Vincent located my g spot. My nails dug into the bedframe, undoubtedly leaving prominent scratches. He took note of my non verbal cues.

Vincent increased the intensity of his fingers. Quickly, the coil of pleasure began to tighten within my lower abdomen. I bucked my hips against his face, but Vincent quickly stifled my movements by pressing my hips into the mattress.

“Are you close?”

He murmured against my clit. The gentle vibrations set my nerves ablaze with white hot desire.

“Yeah, yeah I’m so close.”

I mumbled, my arms beginning to tremble as I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt my orgasm begin to seep into the corners of my brain.

Vincent’s long digits expertly located my g spot with every thrust.

His warm mouth continued to duck and stimulate my swollen bundle of nerves.

The erotic sounds of his fingers fucking my cunt reverberated loudly throguhout the predominantly empty bedroom.

“Then cum for me, ma chérie.”

His endearing words proved to be the last necessary step in reaching my release. The tension that had built within my stomach exploded as I came gloriously all over his face. My back felt as though it had been rammed into a solid brick wall.

My chest heaved, and I found it arduous to supply my lungs with sufficient oxygen.

My eyelids began to flutter open as the movements of both his tongue and fingers slowed. When he removed his digits and mouth, I was overcome with a glorious sensation of complete satisfaction. Both my mind and body succumbed to bliss. I had never before experienced such an absence of disquiet.

Vincent climbed over me, his torso now bare.

I cracked a small grin, my palms flattening against the expanse of his soft chest. His lips shone with my arousal. I trailed my fingertips slowly downwards, halting when I reached his thick leather belt. I began to undo the buckle, however, Vincent caught wind of my intentions. With one hand, he engulfed both of my wrists, pinning them above my head. I gasped.

“Oh, no, not now.”

His gentle lips tenderly kissed the soft divot behind my ear. I took a deep breath, the scent of his pricey, heavy fragrance clouding my mind.

“I have waited far too long for this moment. It would be foolish of me to allow you to furnish pleasure when my desire has been consuming me for years.”

Vincent moved off of me and stood to remove the remainder of his clothes. With a pleasurable whoosh, he pulled his belt from the loops of his formal pants. Subsequently, he removed his shoes and allowed his trousers to gather about his ankles.

He met my stare, the mellow hue of the faint overhead lights collecting within his green irises.

“You look beautiful.”

Once again, the heat from my body began to travel downwards.

Vincent’s boxers were the final article of clothing to be removed. I gulped audibly, as his sizable cock was now standing fully erect.

Holy shit, I thought to myself.

He possessed one of the most winsome cock I had ever laid eyes on. I clenched my thighs together, my cunt eagerly clenching around nothing.

When he had finished undressing, he climbed back over me and our lips met once again. I melted into the kiss, exhaling sensually as I sunk into the plush mattress. Vincent’s hand grasped the hem of my dress, tugging it upwards until I was forced to raise my arms.

Thankfully, the supportive nature of the outfit allowed me to function in the absence of a bra. As a result, my entire body was now fully exposed for Vincent’s piercing gaze.

He discarded the dress and dropped his hips suggestively until his prominent erection pressed against my lower stomach.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, beckoning him to progress further. Vincent shuffled his hips, tip now dangerously close to my aching cunt. But, before he slipped inside of me, he raised a free hand and tenderly brushed a few unruly strands of hair from my damp forehead.

“If you wish to stop at any moment, merely apprise me and I shall cease.”

I gave him a nod, throwing my arms around his neck to provide an anchor. Vincent pressed his lips to my neck, applying a few gentle kisses before sliding his cock into my wet cunt.

My walls stretched, hastily conforming to his rather large girth. My back arched into his solid torso. I inhaled sharply as he buried the entirety of his length deep within me.

“Are you alright, ma chérie?”

His body stilled. I groaned in mild frustration.

“Y-yeah. I’m more than alright. P-please just fuck me already. I-I need you so bad.”

Vincent pulled back. His lips were plush. His hair was disheveled. His cheeks were a bright shade of pink.

His disarranged appearance was a stark contrast to the previously sophisticated man I had met at the start of this afternoon. However, I do consider the duality of man to be a topic of the utmost enticement. There is something captivating about the notion of commencing a relationship with someone who has a secret side that solely you have the pleasure of becoming acquainted with.

Without further words, Vincent began to roll his hips. The slight pain of his cock quickly dissipated to create room for immense pleasure.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head.

“Does that feel good? Hm?”

He spoke with a slight vocal fry. The raspiness of his tone elicited a visceral reaction. I dragged my nails along his smooth back, undoubtedly breaking skin.

He grumbled deep within his chest.

When I didn’t answer, Vincent pulled his face back, blown pupils meeting mine. I gazed at him through half lidded eyes. I found it difficult to ignite passionate eye contact when I was presented with the distraction of his cock expertly grazing against my g spot with every fervent jerk of his hips.

He wrapped a large hand around my neck. My pulse rose to the top of my skin as black spots began to cloud my vision.

“Come on, ma belle, be my good girl. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

I exhaled a shuddering breath.

“F-fuck… you feel so good inside me Vincent.”

I gulped.

“Y-your cock feels so good.”

Vincent’s skin began to sheen with a thin layer of perspiration. The unruly strands of brown hair deepened in color as they stuck to his forehead. I moaned pornographically as the grip on my neck constricted once more. My jaw dropped. The brief lack of oxygen only added to the flurry of incoherent thoughts bouncing around my skull.

“Oh, my, you’re such a good girl for me.”

He gulped, a soft sigh escaping his swollen lips.

“You’re taking me so well.”

The erotic words combined with his smooth accent contributed to the tightening of my lower abdomen.

I was close, dangerously close.

I could feel my body reaching the edge, and I would soon fall into a state of euphoria.

Vincent’s adjusted his hips ever so slightly, his tip now reaching deeper than before.

I instinctively turned my head away. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I buried my face into the bed. My brow furrowed. My eyes squeezed shut as I anticipated my release.

Vincent utilized his thumb to reposition my face.

“No, don’t look away. Be my good girl and look me in the eyes.”

I forced my eyelids open, meeting his piercing stare as ever so slightly increased the frequency of his thrusts. Every instinct beckoned me to throw my head back, but I fought the desire. And, I instead kept my eyes fixated on Vincent’s blown pupils that had almost entirely consumed his irises.

“I want to watch you. I want to see your face as you cum all over my cock.”

I gave him a slight nod, indicating that I could hear while trapped in my lustful stupor.

His hand traveled downwards, gently caressing my curves before reaching my swollen clit. Vincent applied gentle pressure, and, with that, I let go.

I kept my eyes fixated on him, allowing my face to contort as it pleased.

Vincent groaned loudly, his cum coating my walls.

He continued to fuck me throguh my orgasm. His movements gradually slowed as the fog of euphoria began to dissipate. My chest rose and collapsed with fervor.

When I deemed it safe to break eye contact, I allowed my eyelids to flutter shut. Suddenly, I became aware of the gravitational pull the bed exerted on my body.

Jesus, I was exhausted.

Vincent removed his cock from my core. However, he remained atop me, tenderly pushing my unkempt hair back to create mild uniformity.

“You may stay here, if you’d like, for however long you wish.”

His voice was as it had been prior to our physical encounter.

I giggled, my mouth breaking into a slight smile.

“Your house is magnificent.”

I met his gaze, his eyes now possessing a tender quality.

“I don’t know if I ever want to leave.”

I said with a scoff.

A smirk played on the corner of his lips.

“Then don’t, stay here for as long as your heart desires.”

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scribbledghost · 6 months

Text

Simon "Ghost" Riley SFW Alphabet

Because I've seen some NSFW Alphabets floating around, but not a SFW one. And I wanted to do some more character study on him.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

This heavily depends on the setting. Out in public, he's not particularly affectionate at all beyond maybe a hand on your lower back to guide you somewhere or a hand in yours if you're sitting next to each other. But when you're home alone? He's a Koala Man. Loves laying with his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. 100% does that thing where he'll stand next to you while you're doing something and keep a hand in your back pocket. Also I love the idea that if you're shorter than him, he loves it when you sort of lean back on him so he can rest his chin on your head.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

The friendship starts. Reluctantly lmao. I can see it going one of two ways: either 1. It's an "Extrovert adopts the introvert without said introvert providing any input" situation, or 2. You just sort of sit in his proximity quietly for long enough and afterwards he's like "yes they are my best friend. No we have not spoken more than 5 words to each other." But, like in a romantic relationship, he's fiercely loyal. Ride or die. He wants his friends safe. Very good at giving advice, but does not sugar coat anything. If you're being a dumbass, he'll tell you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

For the most part, yes. Sometimes he gets into certain moods where he doesn't really want to be touched, but those are fairly rare and usually triggered by some sort of outside event. And again, he doesn't cuddle unless it's just the two of you (he may put an arm around you when the rest of the team is there, but he won't fully wrap you up). The way he cuddles is... encompassing lol. That's the only way I can describe it. He likes having his arms wrapped around you, likes having you close to him. Being a giant weighted blanket for you is good too. In a way, having you near is soothing for him. He knows you're there, he knows he's got you, and he knows your safe.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I imagine he would like to settle down, but at first the idea of being so close and vulnerable with someone else spooks him. Once he comes around to the idea though, and once someone manages to break through his emotional defenses, he's down for it. Probably likes to imagine a nice house with a yard and a dog, though honestly he's okay with a simple apartment/flat too, as long as he's with the right person. He's very good at cleaning, the military and him living alone for so long made sure of that. Cooking though... he's decent. Don't expect gourmet, but he knows a thing or two. Cannot bake to save his life though. If it's anything more complicated than what comes in a box with instructions, he's hopeless.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Quickly and efficiently. He doesn't see any reason to drag things out or beat around the bush about it. And he's not the type to do the whole "break-up-make-up" thing, either. You get one breakup with Simon, that's it. He won't give an opportunity for there to be another. He'll tell you that you need to have a conversation, say that it isn't working out, and that he wishes you the best. Done and done. If you really poke and prod him about it, he'll give you specifics as to why it didn't work, but don't expect him to sugarcoat it.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Here's the way I see it: he wants it. Badly. He wants the ring on your finger and the exclusivity and the legal status of it (particularly so you could be taken care of if something were to ever happen to him in the field). But he's terrified of it. He's terrified of turning into his father, terrified of recreating the cycle he grew up in. If you really, really want marriage, he'll work on coming around to it, but if you're ambivalent towards it or don't want it, he's absolutely fine with that. As for how soon he'd want it, I'd say a few years minimum. He probably starts thinking about it much, much sooner, but it takes those several years for him to work through his own feelings on it.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He's incredibly, incredibly gentle physically. Out in the field, he's a machine, and a very efficient one at that, but he doesn't want to be that way at home. One of his biggest fears is accidentally hurting you. He's witnessed so much violence through his life that he refuses to continue it if he can help it (military job notwithstanding). As for emotionally, he's a bit less gentle, but that doesn't mean he's cruel by any means. Just a bit more blunt and to the point. The only time he's particularly harsh is when he's been tipped over the edge after a lot of pushing, or if something happens to scare him.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

From you? He loves them. From anyone else? Hard no. He has no problem with you hugging him as often as you want, though he won't really return them much unless it's just the two of you or only the team around (exceptions are made if he catches someone looking a bit too closely at you). When you're alone, he's hugging you all the time. Especially from behind. His hugs are very warm, and they have a tendency to make you feel safe and secure. Also the type to give that intermittent squeeze while hugging you, the kind that sort of squishes you a little bit.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He doesn't lmao. Straight up Does Not. This doesn't mean he doesn't love you - he does. He just... really dislikes using that phrase to say as much. He finds it overused and diluted. He much prefers to tell you in other ways, like telling you that you mean the world to him, or reminding you that you're everything to him. Plus, to give credit where credit is due, his go-to pet name for you is "love". He uses it more than your actual name. There are a couple of certain, very specific scenarios in which he will actually say the words "I love you", but quite frankly they're not scenarios that either of you want to be in.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

I don't know if I'd say he gets "jealous" so much as "protective". He does tend to feel some type of way if he catches someone getting a bit too close (be it staring too much, getting handsy, etc), especially if he can tell it's making you uncomfortable. This is usually when his reservations on PDA sort of go out the window. If someone starts encroaching, he'll crowd into your space, put his arms around you, press a kiss to your cheek through his mask. Those sorts of things. Or he'll just straight-up menace the offending party and tell them to get lost and that you're not interested. Whether or not his threatening aura goes too far depends mostly on your definition.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Most of the time, they're very soft. He doesn't get too wild with them unless he's been gone for a while or he's particularly riled up. He does like to tease by kissing you with the mask still on though (and it was how your first kiss went - he pressed his mask to your cheek). Once you're more established, he likes to lift the mask to kiss your lips and shoulders specifically, though he frequently kisses your temple and forehead as well. As for him, he has a particular weakness for you kissing his knuckles for some reason. He isn't sure why. Though of course, he'll never deny you if you want to press a kiss to his lips.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He's very, very gentle with them. He knows he's prone to scaring children, especially the younger ones, but he does his best to mitigate that by speaking softly and making himself seem smaller. Definitely feels guilty when he accidentally makes one of them cry (Unfortunately, this happens frequently with babies. Big Man In A Mask can be scary). He'll play with them if they ask, pick them up if they want, etc. For some reason, while he tends to make infants cry, he seems to be a magnet for toddlers. It's like they look at him and see a free jungle gym.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Truthfully, when he's at home, he likes to take his time. He's awake at the crack of dawn, just because he's used to military wakeup times by now. But he by no means gets out of bed when he wakes up, especially when you're with him. Prefers to lie in as long as you'll let him, and by that I mean he prefers to lie there as long as you'll let him hold you. Kinda cranky in the mornings tbh. Doesn't like waking up to a lot of sound or action around him. He does that enough when he's on the job, he'd prefer to avoid it when he's home.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Tries to keep a decent routine so his schedule doesn't get too far out of whack. Doesn't eat past a certain time, and enjoys unwinding about an hour or so before bed with a book or quiet conversation. He won't force you to adhere to the same bedtime he has, but he will readily admit that it's harder for him to fall asleep when you're not there with him. An absolute sucker for spending some time with his head on your chest, bonus points if you sort of massage his scalp at the same time. However, when it comes to actually sleeping, he prefers to be the big spoon.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Gonna have to have an ungodly amount of patience and wait for his level 10 friendship for this one lmfao. Even then, there's certain things that he simply will never tell you. He will never go into particular detail about his upbringing, aside from letting you know his father was a rat bastard who's better off in the ground. He doesn't give you details about his work, though that is purely for your safety. After enough time (and I mean ENOUGH time), he'll tell you about his mother and brother, and even then, he doesn't really talk about their fates other than something along the lines of "they got hurt because of me".

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

I headcanon that he's actually peeved sort of easily, but it takes a lot for him to show it. And even then, he does his best to keep a very tight leash on it. The most he usually does is get quiet and broody. I do believe that he absolutely does not yell, though. Not in anger. He'll quietly seethe, but he does not raise his voice. He may sort of slam a hand or fist down on a nearby surface if he's really ticked and not thinking clearly, but even then he immediately regrets it. And absolutely, 100% never raises a hand towards you. Ever. The idea of you ever being afraid of him for any reason absolutely destroys him.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

His memory is, for the most part, very sharp. Dates for things like anniversaries are always remembered. He may not remember every little detail you mention in passing, but he remembers the important things. If you offhandedly mention needing something bought or done, he's on it. And if you mention anything about your past or who/how you are as a person, he definitely remembers that as well. But if you offhandedly mention you have an appointment or something the following week, he may or may not remember by the time it rolls around.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time he let you take off his mask. You'd seen each half of his face separately (aside from his nose, somehow - that seemed to always be covered no matter what), but you had yet to see his entire face at the same time. He remembers gently taking your hands and putting them at the bottom of his mask, telling you quietly that you could remove it. He still remembers how slowly you did so - as if you were waiting for him to change his mind. And he will always remember how you softly called him beautiful once the mask was off.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

VERY PROTECTIVE. Woof woof bark bark scary dog privileges etc. To be honest, his menacing aura is enough to deter any would-be offenders 90% of the time. A stern look from him is usually enough to scare people away. But if they're more bold (or stupid), he has no problem lowering his voice and issuing thinly-veiled threats. If the time ever comes that he needs to physically protect you from an immediate danger, he can be a damn vision. Efficient, cold, calculated. Laser-focused on your safety and nothing else, consequences be damned. Quite frankly, there are few places on the planet that you'd be safer than with Simon Riley.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He puts in as much effort as he can. He knows he's away a lot, and he does his best to make up for that when he's at home. Granted, he doesn't "nail it" every single time, simply because he's... not used to this. Sometimes he forgets certain things (not dates, but perhaps small details), but it's not often. But he truly, genuinely tries his best, and it really is obvious. His love language is acts of service, so everyday tasks are his wheelhouse when he's around. You can usually count on coming home from work to a tidy home, dinner on the stove, and a kiss to your temple as he asks if you'd like for him to run you a bath or shower.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Actual habits? Probably smoking and drinking. Also probably doesn't wash his masks as often as he should, so. Don't put your nose too close to them for an extended period of time. He's just nose-blind to it at this point. For ugly behaviors, I can see him having to keep a very close eye on his possessiveness. Any time you go out without him, he has to restrain himself from sticking a GPS tracker on your car or in your pocket. Any time you introduce him to friends or family, he's subconsciously analyzing them to see if they're a threat. He doesn't mean to, and he feels guilty once he realizes what he's doing, but it's an innate behavior at this point. But, if left unchecked, he could definitely become overprotective to a toxic degree.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not particularly. He knows he's attractive, but he doesn't really do anything to draw attention to it or maintain it. Most of his face is hidden the vast majority of the time, anyway. He does work out on the regular, though this is more to keep him fit in the field than for vanity's sake. He does tend to shave daily and keep his hair trimmed neat, but again, that's mostly because it would make the mask more uncomfortable otherwise. (I do headcanon that he likes to exaggerate his vanity around his partner though. Just to see if he can fluster them lol).

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

At first? Not really. He's an independent loner who hesitates when having to rely on others. But once you worm your way into his heart and really get to know him? Once he really lets you in? He doesn't really know how to exist without you anymore. You don't have to be right next to him all the time, but once he's yours, he doesn't know any other way to be anymore. It's like you're a part of him then, like you've made a home in his ribcage and if you were to leave (or, heaven forbid, be taken from him), you'd take a massive part of him with you. He feels like he'd turn into a hollowed out shell of himself if he lost you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

You see parts of his face separately long before you see his face in its entirety. First, it's just his eyes. Then, maybe his hair when he only wears a standard facemask. At one point you spot his mouth when he lifts his balaclava up so he can take a drink or smoke (or so he can kiss you). Letting you see his face - his entire face, all at once - is a big deal for Simon. It's something he doesn't give to everyone. In fact, he doesn't really give it to anyone. The only people who have seen it in recent years are certain medics, his team, and you.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He wouldn't like a partner who is... too pushy? idk how to put it. But don't come into the relationship thinking you can fix him or change him. Simon knows he carries more baggage than a metropolitan airport. He's aware. He'll start working through it when he's good and ready, and not a second sooner. Try and force him on that front, and you'll quickly push him away. I also headcanon that he wants nothing to do with someone who's quick to be outwardly angry. If you're the type who yells easily, stomps around, slams doors, etc, then it's absolutely not gonna work out.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He sleeps very lightly. He's awake at the smallest jolt of movement. Also a very quiet sleeper. To the point where sometimes you have to watch for the rise and fall of his chest because you start to worry he's not breathing. In addition: it takes a lot of trust for him to fall asleep around you. He's definitely not the type to doze off around strangers. Because of this, he tends to take most night watches when out in the field until he gets so exhausted he can't fight the sleep anymore. But once he's home with you and you're with him, he's out like a light.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost scribbles

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sunny44 · 1 year

Text

You shouldn’t let her go

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton!girlfriend reader x Max Verstappen!ex-girlfriend reader

Warnings: stupid Max, pregnancy

Summary: Max left his fiancée after years of relationship because he felt he couldn't stand being tied to someone anymore so after almost two years she shows up in the paddock with Lewis and he realizes he shouldn't have let her go.

Ps: just to make it clear, I am not in favor of the rivalry that is imposed on Lewis and Max, I know they are not friends but the reality does not match my stories, this is fiction so don't take it personally.

Next Chapter

When he decided that our relationship should end I thought he was joking.

For days and weeks I couldn't believe that this was real, but my mind was made up as soon as I saw pictures of him on the internet with women in parties.

It was then that I realized that our engagement was over.

I don't think I have ever suffered so much in my life, I never thought that I would be isolated for months.

I suffered so much that I started to stop eating, in the beginning I ate very little but as the days went by I decreased until I almost stopped completely but luckily my mother saved me from being at the bottom of the pit.

The first months were difficult, I had been used to our own routine for years and having to leave it suddenly was extremely difficult, in fact I was torn out of that routine.

I had to leave where I had lived for years since the apartment was his, I had to learn to take care of my place by myself since now there was no one else for me to share my tasks with.

But 5 months later I met someone, someone who made me have those feelings again, the feelings that I thought after Max I would never have again.

I already knew who he was and he also knew who I was but the fact that he was Max's enemy but leads meant that we never really talked.

Lewis and I had been dating for almost 9 months when he ask me to be his girlfriend and I remember being extremely happy that he was taking our relationship as seriously as I was.

And since that day we have been together and today would be the first time I could be in a formula one paddock since Max and I broke up.

Today was the Dutch GP and Lewis and I were on our way to the paddock, him and I had agreed early on in the relationship that we would only go public when we were comfortable letting the world know about us. I know how well this world works, if you don't do something people judge you and if you do something they judge you anyways.

And I knew what the fans would say that I was a hustler who only dates drivers and that since I got dumped by one I went after another.

But they don't know the half of it because the part where I suffered they don't care because one of the most coveted pilots became single so they can go after him and try their luck and some of them really do.

Most of them are like that, they go from city to city in nightclubs chasing silly girls who are willing to have their one minute of fame for being able to say that they fuck a formula 1 driver, but in the end this is nothing because in years of relationship he can forget you in one day so how long does it take for them to forget a simple fuck?

When we arrived in the paddock I could already feel my nervousness and so could Lewis, he knew I was afraid to come but not because I was here again or even because I had to see him.

But because of the fact that I would be judged for dating a driver who doesn't get along well with my ex for clear reasons.

But I'm already expecting that his fans don't like me.

"Are you okay?" He asks looking at me but I don't answer and just stare at nothing. "Hey, baby."

"Yeah?" I asked looking at him.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Again he asks and I don't answer. "I'm not sure we picked the right GP to do this."

"In this situation there is no right GP. But I think we picked the worst one." I say and he laughs. "Look they are going to hate me anyway with us showing up together today or in the next race so let's just get over with."

"That's the way to talk." He says cheerfully and we get out of the car.

When we got out of the car and were getting in it seemed like the world had stopped around the two of us, the flashes and noises of the cameras, the movement was so big that even some of the drivers that were scattered around looked and were surprised at what they were seeing.

Halfway there I felt Lewis taking my hand and intertwining our fingers and confirming what people were thinking.

We walked to the Mercedes garage and before we entered I could see him standing in front of the Red Bull garage with some people from the team talking to him but Max was more focused on me than on them.

When we got inside I went to say hello to the people from the team, some faces were already known but most I didn't know who they were.

"We have an unexpected visitor." I hear a voice behind me and I recognized it right away by the accent.

"Hi Toto, how are you?"

"Fine and you?"

"I'm great taking all the attention."

"It's almost as if Beyoncé is walking into the paddock."

"I felt like her." He laughs.

"I'm going to go change and be right back okay?" Lewis says and I nodded and he gave me a kiss before heading to his room.

"I'm going to get some coffee, will you let him know for me?" Toto agrees and I leave to get a cup of coffee.

Which I shouldn't have done if I knew Max would find me and come after me.

"Hi."

"Hi Max."

"Good to see you, you look great."

"Thanks."

"And how are you?"

"Fine."

"I haven't heard from you anymore."

"You wouldn't have had to know, you made it very clear that you didn't want me in your life anymore the last time we saw each other."

"And that was the biggest mistake of my life.”

"That’s your problem now." I said walking past him but he held my arm. "Can you let go of me?"

"Are you really with him or was that whole scene just to make me jealous?"

"Pay close attention because I'm only going to tell you once, you broke up with me and it was you who broke my heart. You don't know what the hell my life was like after you dumped me, so don't come to me wanting to know about my life because I don't owe you anything.”

"I'm sorry I was an asshole and I deserve that you are angry with me but seriously you are dating him? You didn't even like him."

"YOU didn't even like him Max I've never even spoken to him to draw those conclusions. And you are rivals on the track but off the track you have no connection."

"So you're dating a guy who hates me? After everything we've been through?"

"And after everything we've been through you dumped me like that for no reason at all so it looks like we're even." He looks at me with anger and sadness at the same time. "And for your information yes I am dating him and it's been a long time, it's not something recent that happened just so I could make you jealous. So leave me alone."

I turned to leave and after a few steps I stopped and looked at him.

"Actually I do owe you something.” He looked at me. "I owe you a thank you for breaking my heart years ago because then I could meet a guy who really loves me and who sees a future with me unlike you who only saw me as a trophy that you dragged everywhere."

Having said that I actually left and went to get a coffee which would actually be a tea since I was avoiding drinking too much coffee.

After buying the tea and a donut that I couldn't resist when I saw it I went back to the Mercedes garage seeing a super worried Lewis.

"Oh my God, where were you? I was worried when I came back and didn't see you here."

"I asked Toto to tell you I was going to get something to drink."

"He had to go to a meeting and must have forgotten."

"I'm fine, don't worry."

"You look a little pale, is something wrong?" He asks, running his hand over my face and I know why I was pale but I wouldn’t tell him right before the race.

"I had a forced conversation with Max on the way over."

"What did he do? Did he hurt you?"

"He didn't hurt me he just wanted to know if we were really together or I was just using you to make him jealous. But I'm not." I hasten to say."

"I know don't worry about it, don't worry about him okay? He's not worth your time."

Lewis put his arms around my waist bringing me close to him and I held his face and kissed him until we were interrupted by the crew calling Lewis to get in the car because the race was about to start, he kissed me once more and went to the car.

I didn't remember how torturous and agonizing it was to have someone you love racing at over 300km/h, every time it seemed like someone was going to crash and I was scared to death that something was going to happen to Lewis but I knew that he was an excellent driver and had total control of what he was doing.

That was until he started to lose positions and that made me and the team worried because the car was the best of the weekend.

Max was first now and I could almost hear his laughter in my head and it really pissed me off.

"Y/n come here." I heard Toto calling me and Bono handing me a microphone.

"Why are you giving this to me?" I picked up the headset in confusion.

"He's nervous for some reason and we can't calm him down so try talking to him."

"Lewis can you hear me?" I ask after I put the headset on.

"Honey? What are you doing there?"

"You need to concentrate, what's going on?"

"I keep thinking about you and him, and it's distracting me. I'm afraid that after you talked today you might want to get back together with him.”

"Don't think about it, I love you and I'm never getting back with Max, understand? I couldn't even."

"Why couldn't you?"

"Because me and our baby love you and we are here rooting for you too."

"Our baby?" he asks without understanding.

"I'm pregnant babe."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, I am."

"Are we having a baby?"

"Yes we are." I could hear him laughing with happiness. "So go get him."

Right then he sped up and sped up as if his life depended on it and on the last lap he passed Max and the whole garage celebrated, when he crossed the finish line we all went in front of the podium where I went running with the team and stood right in front, he jumped out of the car and celebrated and then came running towards me and kissed me, he pulled me through the fence hugging me even tighter. He bent down and kissed my belly making me laugh through my tears and the look on Max's face that came second didn't go unnoticed, I don't know if it was me but their eyes seemed to shine with the tears but at the moment I didn't care because my happiness was there with me celebrating his victory.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername instagram post

Liked by LewisHamilton, yourmom, mickshumacher, landonorris and others 82937

Yourusername After feeling lonely and unhappy for years I finally found someone who makes me feel like the most special woman in the world. I can't thank you enough for making me shine again and for making me a better person.

And now that our family is growing, I can only thank you for always being there for us, I love you so much.

Tagged: LewisHamilton

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