#so now I got a new set of pictures to use that I sure hope I won't be seeing anytime soon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nanaslutt · 6 months

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hello, i hope youre good !

may you please write one day about y/n sending hot pics for satoru ?

sorry if I spoke something wrong, english isnt my first language :] take ur time and have a good day ! 💞

Your english is perfect ml, please enjoy! <3

Contains: fem reader, established relationship, sending nudes, phone sex, mutual masturbation, he talks you through it, praise, DIRTY TALK

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"I don't know Shoko.. I've never sent him anything like this before." You groaned into your pillow, your voice through the phone coming out muffled on her end. "But you want to right?" She pushed, making you raise your head up from the sheets and sigh, "I doooo." You huffed out begrudgingly. "Great! Problem solved, the pictures you sent me were hot, but not too revealing, so you can send him something like that for starters." She replied, making you blush at her compliment.

You had recently bought a new set when you went out with Shoko for a girl's day. You had practically ripped the bag in half when you got home so you could get it on your body faster. Once you had on the garment you were posing left and right, making sure to take some sensual pictures for yourself later. Your boyfriend; Satoru; had texted you in the midst of your shenanigans, telling you how he was on his lunch break, making an idea pop into your head.

You wanted to show your man how good you looked, but thinking about sending Satoru; or anyone for that matter; nudes? That made you a little nervous. You quickly dialed up Shoko, she always knew just what to say, she was your hypewoman after all. After a quick convo she had successsfully pushed you in the direction you truly wanted; that being sending your boyfriend risque pictures while he was at work.

"Let me know how it goes, see ya." Shoko's voice echoed through the phone speaker before the tone indicating the call had ended rang through the room. You took a deep breath and rotated yourself on your bed, flopping your back against the pillows, still dressed in the pretty set, while you scrolled through the pictures you had taken-- trying to pick your favorites.

You settled on three for starters, it was an easy pick, only taking you a couple minutes to assess the best ones for Satoru. The first one you were on your side, body laid across the floor sensually as your arm rested on your hip, giving the viewer's eyes full access to your body. In the second picture, you were on your knees, you had placed your phone on the ground and set it to a timer so you could lean forward, making your thighs crease at the top, as you used to squeeze your breasts together.

The last photo was your favorite. You were sat on the floor, your legs folded and spread, the sheerness of the panties leaving little to the imagination in the lighting, while your hand once again rested against your tit, pushing and groping it in your hand while the other took a picture in the mirror, your phone covering most of you face save for a sliver of a smile that peeked out the side of the phone.

Your heart was racing, you knew Satoru would like the pictures, and you're pretty sure he would find you attractive in a trash bag, but you digressed, opening the chat to your lover.

Satoru <3: finally on lunch, yaga brought donuts today!

The picture attached was of the white-haired man laying back in his chair as he held his shirt up over his stomach to reveal his somehow still toned, but bloated tummy, an empty donut box in the background. Something told you that the donuts might've been for the kids, but Yaga should've known that bringing sweets around Satoru without anything for him was a recipe for disaster.

You laughed to yourself as you shook your head before responding. The two of you bantered back and forth about the subject for a while before he asked you what you were up to right now, which gave you the perfect excuse to send him the pictures. After sending an ominous 'you wanna see?' text, you clicked on the three gold medal winning pictures and sent them his way. You bit your lip between your teeth as you watched the blue bar at the top of the screen slowly slide across it, indicating it was sending.

Seconds before the pictures had been successfully sent, Satoru had started typing back his own response, which made you nervous because it meant he was in the chat and would see the photos sooner. Which is what you wanted, yes, but it didn't make it any less nerve-wracking.

When the little ‘delivered’ popped up underneath your pictures, quickly followed by a ‘read’ you held your breath. The three dots that indicated his typing stopped, then started, then stopped again. Uncertainty filled your body, did he not like the pictures? Was he mad you sent them while he was working?

You were snapped out of your stupor when your phone started vibrating in your hand, Satoru’s contact picture and name lighting up the phone as it rang. You quickly answered his call, readying yourself to apologize for being out of line, but before you could do so you heard a loud drawn out groan resonate from the speaker.

“You’re such a tease.” He pouted on the other side of the line, “I only have 5 minutes left on my lunch break and you just made me so fucking hard.” He groaned, making you sigh in relief as you registered his words. “I’m sorry Satoru, I felt pretty and wanted you to see,” you faux apologized, biting your lip as you looked around your room.

“And you do look so fucking pretty baby, that’s the problem.” He sighed, spinning himself around in his chair while he stared down at his erect cock that was tenting up his pants. He looked over at the large clock on his wall, which he mainly used for decoration, before sighing into the receiver. "Thank you, Satoru," You blushed. "I was going to send them when you texted me that you were on your lunch but our conversation wasn't really.. in that mood" You explained.

You heard his signature laugh from the other end, "Baby, I don't care if I just told you the school got attacked by a hoard of curses, if you have sexy pictures to show me you better not keep them from me." You rolled your eyes, you both knew he was exaggerating and you would never do such a thing, but his words made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside still. "Sorry Satoru, is it too late to tell you that I took more than the ones I sent you?" You giggled, biting your lip when you heard him groan in response.

"Fuckk, please send me those pictures baby~" He wined, reaching over to his wireless headphones as he popped onto into his ear so he could still hear you while he oggled your pictures, he wouldn't want anyone to hear this conversation after all. You were one step ahead of them, the delivered notification once again popped up on your screen as you sent him three more pictures, all more risque than the last.

In one your back was arched in the mirror, showing off the pretty decoration on the back of the panties. Another, you completely abandoned the bra of the set, leaving the panties on as you covered your nipples with your fingers, and one of the same vein of you holding the phone over your body while you lay on the bed, your arm squishing your tits in the bra together while it cupped over your panty-less cunt.

"Oh you're trying to kill me, look at that fucking arch." He groaned, covering his mouth with his hand as he took in the photos. "Baby you look so cute in that last one." He complimented, making you blush and giggle as you whispered out your thanks to him. He looked over to the clock once more, it was a couple minutes over the time he was supposed to be back and teaching the kids, but he figured if he was already late, what was a couple more minutes?

"Answer that," Satoru instructed, referring to the FaceTime request that popped up on your phone from him. You accepted it quickly, pulling your phone from your ear as you slid the green button over, smiling fondly when his flushed face popped into view. "You're so handsome, Satoru." You complimented, feeling your stomach start to tie itself in knots with how debauched he looked from just looking at the pictures you sent him, he was so clearly aroused.

"Oh shit, you still have it on?" He said, biting his lip as he set his phone down on the desk in front of him, giving you a full veiw of his body as he leaned back once more and startaed rubbing himself over his slacks. "Satoru what are you doing?" You asked with a laugh, surely it had been longer than five minutes now, he needed to get back to teaching. "Shh baby, they wont miss me for a couple more minutes ill make it quick." You imediately picked up on what he was insinuating.

"Look at how hard I am baby, I can't go out there looking like this." He wined, tipping his head to the side against his chair as he looked at you with a pout. "You're gonna take care of me too right?" You asked, giggling before you set up your own phone on your bed, using some pillows to stabilize it. The white-haired man scoffed before he started unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out, "Can't believe you just asked me that." He said, semi-faux offense plastering itself on his face, "Was there ever a time I've left you unsatisfied?" He asked, slapping his cock against his free hand when it was finally unobstructed from his too-tight pants.

You sat back on your heels and started massaging your tits in your hands, making the warmth in your stomach grow as you pretended to think, looking around the room as you hummed. "Oh, so you already forgot how I made you cum in under a minute before work yesterday morning?" He said confidently, beginning to stroke himself as he watched you push your covered tits together. "I barely have to touch you and you're a squirming mess, dont play with me." He huffed out a laugh, bringing his other hand down to massage his balls in his hand, really giving you a show.

"But you're not here right now, Satoru." You retorted, sliding one of your hands down your body slowly, making your way down to your cunt. "Maybe not, but just my words are making you all wet, huh?" He asked knowingly, pulling his lip between his teeth as he watched you tease yourself. You nodded, making him coo at you as you finally made it to your cunt as you started to rub small circles over your clit.

"Get comfortable for me baby, keep the set on." He instructed. You lay back against the pillows and spread your legs. The crotch of the panties had a little patch over your entrance that he couldn't see through, but every other part of the fabric was almost completely sheer, except for the fact that your wetness was seeping through them little by little and making them see through the more you teased yourself.

"Play with your nipples while you rub yourself baby." He groaned, trying to keep his voice relatively quiet as he was in his office. "This is so dirty." You giggled, following his instructions. You rubbed small circles against your panty-clad clit while you pinched your nipple through the fabric of the unpadded bra.

The two of you have tried many things sexually throughout the entirety of your relationship together, but somehow, have never thought of getting off together over the phone. When Satoru was gone on missions the two of you would send dirty messages back and forth, saying how bad you missed each other, but nothing to this extent. This was opening a whole new world for the both of you, and it would be something you would definitely do again.

"Good fucking girl. Goddd, what I wouldn't give to bend you over right now and fuck you into the bed." He groaned, his strokes picking up pace while he watched your body jerk and twitch under your ministrations. "Yeah?" You encouraged, rubbing yourself faster and harder as your cunt clenched around nothing, aching for him to fill you up.

"Yes baby, want you to fuck yourself back on my cock too, wanna watch your little pussy swallow up my dick." He continued, rambling as the wet strokes on his dick emanated louder through the room. "Pull your panties aside and touch yourself, gotta see your pretty pussy." He grit through his teeth, as he tried to keep his eyes from rolling back in his had. You did as told, pulling the fabric aside you exposed your twitching clit and pulsing hole, a string of your arousal that connected to the panties failed to excape his eyes, making Satoru's cock twitch.

"Touch yourself, baby, pretend it's me touching you." He groaned, letting his jaw drop as he watched your fingers come in contact with the little bud, beginning to rub quick circles against it, just like he always does. "L-like this Toru?" You asked, needing him to praise you right now. "Just like that baby, doing so good for me, so fucking perfect." He groaned, shaking his head back and forth as he watched your smaller fingers work yourself through your orgasm.

"Shit, wanna feel your cunt squeezing me so bad, can see her twitching." He whined, making you blush in embarrassment at how exposed you were. Satoru's leg started bouncing against the floor at how fast he was working himself up. "P-please, fuck me Toru', fuck me-" You whimpered, getting lost in the sensation as you tipped your head back against the pillows and dropped your other hand down to the opening of your pussy, slowly sliding them inside your walls and starting up a blissful pace as you curled them up towards your sweet spot.

"Yes fuck your pussy for me, baby, yesyesyes." The man rambled, his back beginning to arch off the chair with how close he was. The squelching emitting from your cunt was going to send him over the edge, he so desperately wanted to pull your inadequate fingers out and lick them clean before he replaced them with his own. "Faster baby, cmon, get yourself there." He begged, slowing his strokes against his cock to let you get closer to your orgasm so the two of you could cum together. "I-I'm fuck S-satoru- Right there- right there-" You moaned, losing yourself in your fantasy as you fucked your fingers harder and deeper into yourself.

"Yeah? Right there? You like when I fuck you right there?" He slurred, clenching his teeth together as he picked up his pace once more, beginning to fuck his hips up into his hand. "Yes Toru- G-gonna- gonna cum-" You wined, your voice raising in pitch as you dropped your chin down to the screen in front of you, watching the show he was so kindly putting on for you as the sight pushed you over the edge.

"M-me too- Gonna fill you up cutie- fucking- take it-" Satoru groaned, hot ropes of cum spurting from his dick as his torso curled in slightly, his abs clenching and body jerking with the force of his orgasm. He watched intently as you snapped your legs shut around your hand, he saw the muscles in your forearm moving, praising you for working yourself through it as wave after wave of your high crashed over you. "Good girl, good fucking girl." He praised, slowing his strokes on his cock as he worked himself through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

"S-shit" Your body relaxed against the sheets once more, your legs staying shut as you relished in the friction your closed thighs brought to your cunt as you came down from your orgasm. You heard your boyfriend giggle, dropping your knees down to the side you looked down at the screen and noticed that he was wiping his cock clean and tucking himself back into his pants. "Whew, 3 minutes, and I didn't even touch you." He praised himself, making you laugh and roll your eyes at him as you sat up to grab your phone in your hand and lay it against the side of the bed with you as you laid down.

"You could say the same for me too you know." you retorted, making him smirk. "Yeah, you could, made me make a huge fucking mess." He giggled, staring at you lovingly through the phone. "You look beautiful." He said, making hearts practically form in your eyes as you thanked him. "Clean yourself up before you fall asleep, I'll be home soon, okay?" He said, raising his eyebrows at you as he waited for your answer before he ended the call.

"Okay Satoru, hurry please." You added the two of you said your goodbyes, he blew you an animated-looking kiss before he hung up the call. You sighed, dropping your hand against the sheets as you smiled to yourself, you couldn't wait for him to get home.

After giving yourself a couple more seconds to lie there, you sat up, heading his words as you started to get yourself cleaned up. You paused in your ministrations when your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up as Satoru's name popped up on the screen. You decided to check his message before you left for the bathroom, your jaw dropped and your body tensed when you opened his message.

There was a picture of Satoru's impressive-sized softening cock that rested on his hand, his length and hand alike covered in his cum with a message attached. When did he even have time to take that picture?

Satoru <3: Keep the set on till I get home please~

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obsessivevoidkitten · 1 year

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Building a Hornet’s Nest

Male Wasp Hybrid Harem x Feminized Male Reader (CW: Noncon, musk, pheromones, bukkake, gangbang, double penetration, wasp men, oviposition, feminized male reader, drug-like cum, wasp transformation, DNA manipulation, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 3.7k (Sorry that this took so long. Sorry that this is so weird. I hope some people can find the degeneracy within themselves to enjoy it.)

When your distant uncle had passed away and left you a property you were surprised to say the least. You were more surprised to learn that it was on Arcadia and that your uncle had never lived long enough to go and see it as he had been ill for some time before his passing and he was not particularly old either. Years ago, unknown to most of the family, he had procured a modest plot of land on Arcadia, a distant planet on the fringes of known space. A true modern day frontier. It was known for its mega-flora. With flowers that grew to the size of trees in some cases. It was also known for its giant docile bees. They were just like bees on Earth except much much larger and they were stingless, it was very easy to domesticate them and now people used them on Arcadia to develop many rare and exotic honey types from the strange alien flowers. Your uncle had wanted to be a beekeeper, he was apparently going to invite you on the venture with him seeing as how you were both into farming and working the land and you had helped him with his beekeeping when you were younger, but he never recovered from his illness so you did not find out until his death. With only a bit of hesitance you decided to pursue your uncle’s dream. When you first got to Arcadia you were in awe by how tranquil and picturesque it was, the pictures and videos that you had seen certainly did it no justice. Unlike Earth most of the foliage was various shades of red, orange, and yellow. Giant blooms of every shape and color imaginable were everywhere, with the exception of the clearing that a small settlement had been built in. Despite being here for a few decades it was still very much a quaint little frontier town, pleasant enough people, offering just the bare essential services. Then there was your new plot of land a few miles from town. It was… run down… to say the least. But you made due, you had sold everything of significant value that you had owned back on Earth and were fully committing to this new venture. And, after a few months, your efforts finally paid off. A giant mansion sized barn for your future bees was built and your house was repaired. All that was left to do was wait for your shipment of buzzy friends to arrive. Well they wouldn’t be so busy when they arrived, as they would still be pupa, but within a week or two the pupa would be finished developing into full sized giant docile bees, they would accept the barn as their home and set up shop. The day came when your shipment finally landed and you were so thrilled, they came off the hover truck and you hurried them into their new home, carefully placing them horizontally into cells in the walls and capping them. In truth you had been more than a bit worried, you were running perilously low on funds and had to go with a discount bee supplier that seemed just a slight bit unreliable. But it seemed you had worried for nothing, here were your bee pupa, nice and healthy. Though they did seem to be a slightly different shape than they looked from the advertisements and videos, you were sure that nothing was wrong. You could barely contain your excitement, you had heard that these bees easily imprint on their humans and are very loving, soon they would establish a hive and your goals would be obtained. It would be slow at first, as you only had enough to get three pupa, but you would get there eventually. You couldn’t stop yourself from checking the barn every few hours. 9 or 10 times each and every single day. The wait was torture. But finally, after about 12 days, you heard buzzing coming from the barn when you stepped out of your house in the morning, you practically tripped over yourself running back inside to grab the collars for them and then dashed back outside and across the field of flowers you had started to grow for them. You opened the door to the barn and… it was NOT what you were expecting. The three pupa were no longer in the cells you had packed them so lovingly into, but they sure as hell were not bees either. Instead, standing before you were three wasp-men. You knew what these were, genetically engineered human-wasp hybrids, that typically had smaller genetic contributions from several ant and bee species as well, that were typically used in highly regulated projects or otherwise extremely shady sources of labor on the very unregulated frontier planets. The question was how did you get them? Did someone’s order get mixed with yours? With how much energy and enthusiasm you opened the door with, they were all now intently staring at you, and to say that they were intimidating would have been an understatement. They all looked fairly similar to one another, red and yellow plates of chitinous exoskeletons covered their feet, arms, legs, chests, and backs. The only thing lacking the exoskeletons were their faces, abs, asses, and crotches. Which were very much exposed, showing off scarily long cocks and heavy balls. They had red bug-like eyes, they had fangs but otherwise regular mouths, but they sat between a set of wicked looking mandibles. Antenna twitched on their heads, sticking out from long blood red hair. Each had a set of large wings folded behind them. Their antennas twitched in your direction as they also sniffed the air curiously. Uh-oh. They were from a shady source so who knows how unpredictably they could act towards you, so you wisely decided to make a hasty retreat, but they quickly flew over to you and pulled you back deeper into the building. “Where’s the rush?” one of them inquired in a slightly buzzing but deep voice, “Me and my friends just woke up here and need some answers.” “Uh-uh okay, sure, what do you want to know?” The one speaking put his arm roughly around your waist and pulled you closer to him. “Well, we are looking for the person meant to be our queen, do you know where they are? Your scent is the only one here. Did you put us in the wall compartments?” “There isn’t any queen, but y-yeah I was the one who bought your pupa and put them in there.” He took a moment to feel you over with his antenna, it probably would have tickled had you not been scared shitless. “Sooo… you’re the queen? Or are you under someone??” “There isn't one! And I own this land and made this building for bees…” One of the other two wasp men chimed in at this. “Ha! Bees? Those weak passive ones that have no human in em and are about as smart as a pet dog? You’re lucky you got us instead, we are far superior!” The one holding you now much too tightly replied while flexing his free arm,”He’s right, we are much better. You really lucked out little queen~ We can keep you much safer.” He licked up your neck with a long narrow tongue making you shiver. “I told you, there isn’t a queen!” You were beginning to grow annoyed with the cyclic nature of this conversation. “You bought us? You own this territory? You put us in cells so we could grow?” “W-well yeah but… I’m n-not-” “You’re our queen then~ Don’t be scared we’ll keep you all safe from the big scary world! You’re far too weak and squishy to just be left alone.” “Ha! Yeah, just a pathetic squishy little human,” the third one that had been silent up until now chuckled as he poked you hard in the stomach. The one holding you grinded gently into your ass, his cock fully erect and prodding your cheeks. “This ass is soft too~ Bet it feels great inside, doesn’t it little queen?” “S-stop, please, I’m not a w-woman!” “Awe, our queen is a bit dumb too~ Good thing we came along to take care of you. It doesn’t matter if you don’t think you’re our queen yet, we’ll rape you full of our eggs. You’ll look so lovely full of our spawn~” As he said all of this he began to gently rub his hand against your crotch and the other two hybrid men stepped closer. Between the unwanted touching and the mention of the word rape you decided it may be worth the risk to try and escape anyway, but your struggles didn’t last long. The man holding you shook you a bit violently until you were unsteady and still and then held the top of his wrist to your neck. A long thick black needle protruded from his wrist and was pointed at you threateningly. You turned away, trying to put as much space between your neck and the sinister looking needle as possible. “Maybe you aren’t too dumb, you know what this does don’t you my queen? It’ll hurt terribly before paralyzing you and allowing us to play with you at our leisure and make you fulfill your royal duty~” You let out a pathetic whimper in response. “Oh, don’t worry, I don’t want to use it. How can you squirm around my dick if I did? So just relax and let this happen the easier, more fun way, okay?” He nibbled on your earlobe and you went completely limp in his grasp, signaling that you wouldn’t put up anymore of a fight. “Heh heh, excellent choice, my queen~” The other two wasps chuckled cruelly as well as one pulled your shirt off and the other wasted no time in unburdening you of your pants and boxers. They stared at you hungrily. Your nudity only fueled your fear and you had to stifle your instinct to flail, thrash, punch, and run. But doing so would surely make things much worse for you, better to just let them have their way and get it over with and hope you could sneak out after maybe when they were sleeping or otherwise distracted. You could feel the cock of the hybrid behind you gently rubbing against your hole as he licked and bit at your neck. He bent down behind you and spread your cheeks, making you shudder as an inhumanly long tongue prodded your hole before sliding in deep, stretching you out gently as it probed and making you twitch and grow hard as it found and focused on your prostate. The genetics for their tongues definitely came from long tongued bees. The wasp man behind you got up and resumed pressing his cock into your hole. “Just getting you good and ready queen~” He whispered softly into your ear. His large cock mercifully massaged copious amounts of thick precum into you to prep you for breeding. At least the entry wouldn’t be unstretched or dry, because that’s not something you would have put past them. The other two wasps were busy rubbing their hands all over your body, rubbing your belly, groping your ass cheeks, stroking your face with surprising tenderness, and contrasting that with rough greedy groping of your soft thighs and tugging at your hair. As the one behind you slipped inside your well lubed ass a second wasp enveloped your hard cock entirely within its mouth while the third kissed you passionately, its tongue fervently exploring every inch of your mouth. You couldn’t even yell in pleasure or protest the pain of having your ass invaded by a large inhuman cock as the long thin went down your throat, making you gag a bit. Finally respecting your need to breathe, the wasp removed itself from your face and began biting your sensitive neck, adding to the complete overly stimulating waves of sensation already being caused by having your dick enveloped by a hot mouth and your prostate gently kissed by the rhythmic thrusts of the other two insectoid men. The one attending your cock took his free hand to massage your balls and that led you to possibly the quickest orgasm of your life. In any other situation you would have been totally humiliated, but you were long past having any dignity today. The one behind you did not relent in his fucking of you, but instead picked up the pace a bit as he felt your body shudder, the one sucking you off hungrily swallowed your load before licking his lips and getting up. “My, you were really pent up my queen, and you produce such sweet honey for me!” He pressed his lips to yours, letting the taste of your own cum permeate your mouth. Between the kiss and the constant pounding of your ass you whimpered as you were already hard again, the wasp that had previously had its tongue down your throat now replacing the one that swallowed your cum at your cock, kissing the sensitive organ before licking it and sucking your recently emptied nuts. You whimpered as they continued to manhandle your sensitive body. The one pumping into your tight hole finally slamming in hard and cumming forcefully, depositing something round and hard into you as he did, making you flinch a bit in surprise as you remembered that they reproduced via eggs, it did not really hurt, but you felt a tingling inside where the waspoid cum touched you. The cock inside you lingered a while as it filled you but once it slid out and away from you your ass’ rest was short lived. One of the wasps laid with his back on the ground and with his cock pointing up, the other two bringing you over to him and forcing you to lower yourself onto his eager, drooling, prick. Your well stretched hole slid on him easily and he gripped you tight and forced you up and down on his length. That special spot inside you was rubbed once more, making you shudder in unwilling pleasure, your body completely betraying you. The pace was slow enough for you, and surprisingly he seemed unwilling to seriously injure his “queen”. As you were finally getting used to the motions one of the other wasps, the one that had already filled your ass, came up behind and slid his cock back inside you with his friend’s so that you were now being plowed in tandem by the both of them. As you gasped from the sudden extra intrusion abusing your insides the third wasp took advantage of your open mouth and wasted no time in putting his dick in your open mouth. You could taste his precum, oddly enough it had just a slight soothing effect and you noticed it tasted of honey. Filled to the brim with cock, you started to get a bit more relaxed as time went on, not overly so. You were still very unwilling and any pleasure was purely physical, incidental, and frustrating, but whatever was in the honey like fluid dripping from his cock was definitely making you a bit less stiff and just a tad bit less defiant. While this was happening you thought you could remember hearing something about this, that modified wasp and bee species made substances that could calm down their queens when distressed, both in fluids and via pheromones. And now that you thought about it the musk that hung heavily in the air was strangely comforting, it was like the more of the precum that dripped down your throat the more you were affected by the smell that these men were giving off. Not nearly enough to really lose yourself though, it was far more subtle than that. It was also probably why you did not feel too much pain anymore despite two dicks pistoning your ass, as one cock thrust forward the other pulled back. All the while the one occupying your mouth was happily pumping away, content with enjoying the wet warmth of your mouth as he fed you more pre. Between all the sensations overtaking your body, the cocks sliding in and out of you, the pheromones and relaxing fluid, and the hands roaming over your sides, face, and thighs, you couldn’t help but blow another load, right on the wasp that was below you. “See? It feels good to be our queen, doesn’t it,” he asked with a mocking chuckle knowing full well it was just your body’s response and it didn’t mean you were enjoying your predicament. After several minutes the one making you suck him pulled out and moaned as he came all over your face, covering you in warm slippery fluid. There were no eggs in this ejaculation, he was certainly saving all of those to be deposited deep inside you to go along with his friend’s. Your skin tingled a bit where the cum touched you and you began to feel just a bit dizzy as your inhibitions slowly lowered just a bit and you became even more relaxed. The cum was much more potent than just the precum and the load up your ass was gradually affecting you as well. Musk permeating the air was much thicker than it had been, or maybe you just noticed it more now, but it was making you drool a bit and you couldn’t help but bounce back a bit against the dicks in your suddenly hungry hole. “I feel really weird… can we stop now…” You stifled a cry, something wasn’t right, you were much more sensitive than normal to everything and you were having difficulty thinking clearly. The wasps all smirked as they ignored you, knowing that their fluid was slowly turning you into a weak little queen they could worship and fill with egg after egg. It was slowly changing your very DNA, making you receptive to hybrid pheromones, making you crave them. The one that had previously unloaded in you pulled out and came all over your back. Moments later the one below you working you on his shaft like some kind of living sex toy slammed you down to the base of his cock and filled you deeply with even more eggs and semen, causing you to spasm and moan weakly with a dry orgasm of your own. “Fuck! You’re a great incubator!” While you were panting and trying to recover the wasp previously abusing your mouth unceremoniously pulled you off the cock you were on and gripped you tight from behind, his erection easily sliding in your cum leaking entrance. “Not done yet, being queen is very busy work, you have to take my eggs too~” “P-please no more, I-I feel funny,” you pleaded desperately as your head was swimming with mixed signals. You knew you didn’t want this but you were so light headed you could barely think, and now these wasp men smelled so alluring, and wouldn’t having more eggs in you feel so nice? “I-I n-need to s-stop…” You felt an instinctual need to keep letting them fill you up, but at the same time you were burning up and truly felt feeble and sick. “Shhh, shhh, just relax, okay? You have been such a good mate for us so far~” He licked a long stripe up your neck with his thin tongue and held you tighter as he continued grinding into you. Without warning he started flying a few feet in the air while still breeding you, his insect instincts telling him to give you a proper nuptial flight. In no time the other wasps joined in as well, both of them in front of you, tending to their precious queen. Rubbing you up and down, smearing the fluid that covered you into your skin, giving little kisses and nibbles, and caresses where they saw fit. They were a bit brutish, but they knew the transition occurring in all of your cells was a rough one and they wanted to help their queen embrace his new role as easily as possible, especially since you had been such a perfect weak little mate for them. You would have continued to beg for them to stop, but it felt so nice now. And it would have been so ungrateful. These nice men were taking care of you so sweetly, giving you lots of eggs to tend to, choosing you to take care of them. It made you feel fluttery in the pit of your stomach. You were so lucky. With a shudder the final load of eggs was unloaded into you, the wasp man behind you wrapping his legs around yours as he came. They all gently lowered you to the ground, one of them keeping you in his arms with you leaning against him and burying your head in his neck before passing out from sheer exhaustion. The wasps’ fluids were still hard at work rewriting your DNA, somewhat like a virus. It was definitely taking a toll on you. Your harem of wasp-men took you to your house and had you all washed up and bundled in your bed, keeping a dedicated vigil over you as you had a deep but feverish sleep. They did not like seeing you uncomfortable, unless it was from them teasing you. But they knew it would be worth it, when you woke up in a few days you would be totally dependent on them. Your new insect DNA demanding you to always be by one of them for safety and telling you that you would constantly need to be incubating their eggs. Their pheromones would comfort, alert, or arouse you based on what they needed to communicate and you would produce some as well that allowed them to track you and be aware of your condition. You’d even grow antenna and your skin would take a reddish tone. You would technically be a wasp hybrid yourself, but that would be the extent of your transformation. Just a weak incubator hopelessly dependent on them for the rest of your life.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere harem #male harem #yandere male harem #male reader #yandere x reader #monster boyfriends #wasp boyfriends #monster husbands #yandere husbands #yandere boyfriends #male yandere x male reader #My OCs #My OC Wasps

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dandylovesturtles · 16 days

Note

Using a random number generator for the angst prompts: 20 Starved + 30 Dangerous Temperatures

... and Leo, of course.

OH GOD OK

uh so. I had an idea. and I decided to write it for this ask I got forever ago. And then, uh.

it really

really got out of hand.

This is a pretty dark fic (even for me) and at the current moment in time it is hurt/no comfort. I do intend to write a part 2, probably tomorrow, but as of the time I'm typing this author's note I've been writing for around 5+ hours straight and I need to take a break! So please, if you don't want to read all this without the comfort included, feel free to wait for the next part before reading! I'll link it and the end once it's posted.

Content warnings: Kidnapping, confinement, psychological torture, nonconsensual voyeurism (I guess this is the best way to put this; Leo isn't doing anything sexual but it's still violating), mild violence, HEAVY ANGST, Leo just having the shittiest time possible.

I HOPE?? YOU ENJOY??? hahahaha....

btw this is set between S2 and the movie (though tbh its canon compliance is... /waves hand)

-----

When Leo imagined himself getting captured by some kind of shady, quasi-governmental agency intent on imprisoning mutants, it was never anything like this.

When he let his mind go there, he always pictured that he would be strapped to a table. Maybe muzzled. That scientists would stand over him, scalpels and drills in hand, and start to take him apart. That they'd examine him piece by piece, and wouldn't give him any anesthesia while they did it.

But there is no table, no muzzle, no restraints at all. He's just in a room.

Well, a cell, technically - the steel door is locked, and there are no windows, no furniture but a bare cot in one corner and a lone toilet in another. But it doesn't really look like a cell. It looks like a room.

A very, very white room. White walls. White ceiling. White tiles (with white grout, even). The toilet is white, a roll of white toilet paper on the floor next to it. The only things that aren't white are the cot and the door and Leo himself.

They took his gear and his weapons, because of course they did. Since the door is steel, he already knows he's not breaking it down; he gives it a half-hearted slam anyway, just to say he tried. He should be able to just portal out, except he hasn't learned how to use his portals without his swords to channel his ninpo through, and there's nothing in here with him that he can use to make new ones.

So he's stuck. He's going to have to wait until someone opens that door for some reason. Or, of course, until his family swings by to pick him up. Though, if possible, he'd like to escape before that happens. The image in his mind, of sitting outside his cell and grinning at them as they arrive to rescue him, is too cool to pass up.

He's not sure how long it's been already. He knows that they knocked him out after ambushing him, and he doesn't know how long he was unconscious. The heavy molasses feel of his head and arms when he woke up suggests that he was drugged. It's wearing off now, though, which means he has a clear head to take in the all of nothing that's in the room with him.

He sits on the cot he woke up on and waits for something to happen.

There's no way for him to tell time, but he thinks it's an hour or so later when there's a sudden beep, and then the sound of a metal panel sliding up. It's a slot near the door that has just opened - inside the revealed alcove is a bottle of water.

He comes to it curiously, taking a long look around the bottle. The slot doesn't open straight through, and even if it did, it's not big enough for anything more than his arm or a foot to fit through. He thinks it must function like an airlock, or maybe they slid the bottle down from somewhere above - he feels around just in case, and finds that the slot is enclosed on all sides but his. Probably his airlock theory, then.

As soon as he removes the bottle, the panel slams shut again.

"You're really determined to keep me in here, huh?" he says to whatever hidden cameras are watching him. He carries the water bottle back to his cot, but doesn't open it, instead setting it down on the floor by the wall. The paranoid part of his brain, the one that doesn't miss a trick, is reminding him that drinking the water is probably a bad idea. Who knows what they might have put in it?

He sits on the cot for awhile longer. Still, nothing happens.

"I'm getting pretty bored in here," he says for the audience that must be somewhere. "Come on, you have a one of a kind turtle in here, and you don't even want to talk to me?"

Time passes, slow and quiet. Leo goes through periods where his anxiety spikes and he starts to wonder if he's been abandoned by whoever brought him here, before the boredom eventually numbs the anxiety back out. Another bottle of water is eventually delivered, and this one he keeps in his hands after retrieving it. It's completely unlabeled, not even a "Use by" date printed on the bottle itself, so it doesn't provide much mental stimulation. He spins the bottle to make little whirlpools inside, because it's something to do.

He's trying to make the fastest whirlpool he can when he hears a sudden click, different from the beep of the water bottle hole, and he looks up just in time to see a large section of the wall in front of him turn black, and then light up to show the room beyond his cell.

He jolts, setting the bottle aside. He knew they must be watching him, but somehow he didn't catch that part of the wall was a whole window.

His audience isn't very large - five people, unless there are others he can't see. Two wear lab coats, two wear fatigues... but the one who comes to stand directly in front of the window is wearing a black suit, with steel rimmed glasses. He leans forward, and speaks into a small microphone.

"Inmate 24365," says the suited man. "I am Agent Bishop, of the Earth Protection Force. My subordinates tell me that you can speak and understand the English language. Is this correct?"

"Qué?" Leo asks.

Bishop does not look amused. "Inmate 24365," he says, "you have two options. You can cooperate with me, answer my questions, and we will make your stay here more comfortable. Do not cooperate, and we will make your stay uncomfortable. Do you understand?"

Leo pretends to hem and haw over this. "How comfortable are we talkin'?"

"I'm sure you would like some dinner."

"You know, I'm not really hungry." He says it to be difficult, but it's actually true - the uncertainty of the situation has put his stomach in too many knots to want to eat anything. "Maybe if you offer me some comic books? Or a TV?

To Bishop's credit, his face doesn't so much as twitch. He keeps his steely eyes locked on Leo. "Answer our questions, and you will receive food. Do you understand?"

Leo stays noncommittal. "What are the questions?"

He's expecting Bishop to ask about his family. He's not expecting what comes next.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave?" he asks. "How are these gateways accessed? What kind of defensive capabilities do the yokai have?"

Leo keeps the surprise off his face. Bishop thinks he's a yokai.

This is, overall, a good development. Bishop might not know about Leo's family, then, or at least not know that they live on the surface. This means the Earth Protection Force likely isn't pursuing his brothers, which means they will be safe until they can help Leo get out of here.

He doesn't let the relief show through, either. Bishop doesn't know anything, and now Leo just has to ride out the next few hours until the calvary arrives.

"You know," he says, "I think I'm good with my current levels of comfort."

If Bishop is mad or frustrated or dismayed by this choice, he doesn't show it. His expression stays stony as he stares in at Leo, sizing him up.

"Very well," he says after a few more seconds. "I will see you tomorrow, then."

The window goes dark, and then turns stark white to match the walls. Leo wants to go over and tap at it, see if it feels different when he touches it, but knowing that Bishop is surely still there, watching him, keeps him rooted to the cot.

He goes back to making whirlpools with the bottle. If they aren't going to entertain him, he isn't going to entertain them, either.

-----

Another water bottle comes some time after his talk with Bishop. He finally opens this one and takes a cautious sip. Nothing tastes off or strange, so he drinks more. They don't want to feed him, but they're fine keeping him hydrated. No reason to stay thirsty, then.

He wishes the water calmed the anxiety still roiling in his stomach, but if anything it just makes him feel even more energized. He bounces his foot and surveys his room again, looking for any weak spots or access points. He can't see anything, though, other than the areas where he knows the water bottle hole and window are; even the vents that relentlessly blow cold air into the room are well hidden.

Knowing that there are people standing just outside his cell watching him, like some kind of zoo animal, puts him on edge. The window is so big that he's pretty sure the only blind spots are either directly underneath it or right by the door on the same wall. After debating it, he leaves his cot and sits on the floor underneath the window, surveying the room from a different angle now and still coming up empty. At least they're going to have a harder time staring at him.

His eyes catch on the toilet in the corner, directly across from the window. It's not in the blind spot, and realizing this makes his insides lurch uncomfortably - hopefully he has a chance to bust out before using it becomes necessary.

Though, he's not sure when that chance is going to come. If they have a slot to pass him water, they could use that to pass him food, too, so it's unlikely that anyone is going to open the door unless they need to take him out.

So maybe his fantasy of being outside when his brothers arrive isn't going to happen. Well, that's okay; he'll just be sure to make some other part of their escape totally rad. That will make up for the embarrassment of getting kidnapped a block from Run of the Mill.

(Seriously, some kind of ninja he is, to let a bunch of human soldiers sneak up on him.)

He drains the water bottle, then starts to roll it back and forth across the floor, like a cat batting at a toy. Leo's not sure what's worse right now: the worry or the boredom. There's nothing to look at and no one to talk to, just an empty room with him and his water bottles.

He's too keyed up to sleep, and the fluorescent lights are still on, anyway. He has no way of telling what time it is, so maybe it just isn't that late yet. And even sitting here, in the blind spot, the idea of closing his eyes while people are watching makes unease crawl up his spine. Staying awake is the easy choice. He'll sleep after he's out of here.

So he sits under the window and rolls his bottle back and forth, back and forth, with only the sound of plastic on tile to keep his thoughts company.

-----

The first three water bottles came pretty regularly, but now there is a very long stretch where nothing is delivered. Leo is starting to think maybe it really is night now. They don't turn off the lights in his cell, though, and he has no controls to do it himself. At least it helps with the whole "staying awake" thing.

Just in case they've decided to suspend his water privileges along with the food, he holds off drinking any more for now.

Speaking of food, his appetite has finally decided to return. His stomach starts to growl at him after several hours (he thinks) of sitting in the floor, an annoying emptiness in his stomach. Knowing there's no food accessible just makes the hunger sharper, but he puts it out of his mind the best he can with nothing else to focus on. He can eat once he's free.

Which should be soon. Seriously, his brothers have to be on their way by now, right?

He's pretty sure it's been the better part of a day, if not a whole day, since he was kidnapped. And, okay, he's willing to give them some leeway; it's understandable if they got a late start. He did storm out of the lair after his latest fight with Raph, and no one ever came to check on him when he did that. Understandably, he thinks, because who wants to be around Bad Mood Leo? Not even Leo wants to be around Bad Mood Leo!

But he'd already turned back into Good Mood Leo by the time he left Hueso's, so surely they knew it had been more than enough time. They would have noticed when he didn't come home. They would have realized something happened. They would be looking for him.

And if they're looking for him, they'll find him! Obviously.

His stomach growls again, and Leo leans his head back against the wall behind him. Maybe he shouldn't think of being at Hueso's. Now he just wants pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom, maybe, or Hawaiian. Mix it up a little with the barbeque chicken.

Another growl. He groans out loud.

He stays awake, twisting and crinkling the empty bottle in his hands, until another full one finally arrives.

-----

No chance to escape comes before using the toilet is necessary.

He tried to hold out, he really did, but he ended up drinking more water to stave off the growing hunger, and it's lowkey cold in here, which doesn't help. Still, the issue of the window sends an uneasy shiver up his spine, doubting that any people outside will feel the need to turn away and give him some privacy. Maybe he should have gone while he suspected it was nighttime.

(Maybe he shouldn't assume they ever aren't watching him.)

He stands up and walks over to the cot, giving it a light nudge with his foot. In a stroke of luck, it isn't bolted to the floor, and it's light enough that he can lift it. The black mesh it's made of is tightly woven, enough that not much is visible through it. It will have to do.

He picks it up and drags it over in front of the toilet, propping it up on its legs so it makes a small wall between himself and the window. It's hardly ideal, but the semblance of privacy makes him relax somewhat.

(He can't think about how there are surely cameras in the room watching him from all angles, making his attempt at a barrier moot. He knows better than anyone that sometimes pleasant lies are necessary.)

After he does his business, he leaves the cot propped where it is; it's not like he's sleeping on it. There's no sink for him to wash his hands, but he's never been the strictest about it, anyway (much to Donnie's disgust). He returns to his spot under the window, squeezing the water bottle to the rhythm of the first song that comes to mind.

Only two verses and a bridge later, the window above his head turns black, then goes clear. Thinking that Bishop might have been watching him just now makes a cold, slimy feeling roll down his spine. Creepy!

"Inmate 24365," comes Bishop's voice through the unseen speaker. "Stand."

Leo doesn't. He stays right where he is, under the window.

Bishop waits only a few seconds. Then Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

He gets up at that, turning and leaning his arm against the window. It strangely doesn't feel like glass, even though it must be. "It's already cold enough in here," he says. He wonders how they can hear him, when he doesn't see a microphone on his side.

"You were told your conditions would only be made comfortable after you answer our questions," Bishop informs him. "The same as before: how many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways-"

"How about you answer my questions first," Leo interjects. "You keep calling me "inmate," but I haven't been charged with anything. Pretty sure you can't detain me without cause."

"The EPF is authorized to detain non-human inmates for as long as deemed necessary for the security of the United States," says Bishop smoothly. "Probable cause doctrine does not apply in this case."

"That's gotta be unconstitutional."

"The constitution does not recognize the rights of yokai. You have no right to counsel, no right to a speedy trial, and no right to protections from cruel and unusual punishments." Bishop's stare is colder than the temperature in the room. "But I am not an unfair man. Answer my questions, and I will provide you with food and clothing."

Leo tosses a glance over his shoulder. "How about a private bathroom?"

Bishop's expression stays ever in place, unimpressed and stoic. "Food and clothing," he repeats.

Leo gives his head a shake. "Then nope," he says, popping the "p". "I plead the fifth."

"As I have already explained, the Bill of Rights does not apply to you."

"That's such crap." Leo bangs his fist on the window. "You can't just keep me here forever for no reason!"

"I do have reasons." Bishop leans closer to the window, his eyes narrowing. "Let's try a different question. What is your relation to Baron Draxum?"

The surprise is fast and sharp, but Leo just manages to keep it from showing on his face. "Who?" he asks innocently, even as the panic sets into his chest. If they know about Draxum, what else do they know?

"We know you are acquainted with him," says Bishop. "What is the nature of your relationship?"

Leo knows they aren't bluffing - why would they bring up that very specific name otherwise? There's no lie he can tell that won't reveal something.

So he doesn't say anything. Instead, he turns his back to the window and sits down, staring resolutely at the opposite wall.

Bishop clicks his tongue. "Very well," he says. "I am a patient man. I can wait." Then, more muffled, like he's facing away from the microphone, Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

The window goes dark, then turns back to white. Leo doesn't move for a long time.

-----

The third water bottle arrives, so he guesses that's the end of day two.

He's shaking as he gets up to retrieve it, adding it to his growing water bottle hoard. He's gone through three and a half by now, but he's trying not to drink them too fast.

As promised, no food is delivered, and his stomach growls and rumbles in protest. The water helps, but only slightly. He needs to eat.

He also needs to sleep.

The panicked adrenaline spikes that have kept him awake this long are starting to die down, with more and more long stretches of exhaustion between them. The shaking is near constant, bringing with it the weird jittery feeling he gets when his insomnia gets particularly bad.

The window is still unnerving him. The idea of sleeping while they're watching him feels staggeringly unsafe.

But he doesn't think he can hold out now until his family gets here. Sure, they're probably getting close (they have to be getting close), but they're sure taking their sweet time. And he's just so tired.

After a long internal debate, he lays down on the cold tile floor. It's not at all comfortable, but somehow he doubts the cot would be any better. Besides, even if he moves the cot under the window, he thinks it would be easier to see him if he uses it. So on the floor it is.

He presses as close to the wall as he can, curling up into a ball for warmth. He wishes he had a blanket.

He wishes he was home.

He squeezes his eyes shut tight and forces back the sudden wave of overwhelming homesickness. There's no reason to feel this way. It's only been two days! What is he, a baby?

It's fine. It's all fine. They're definitely on his trail now. Raph is leading the team. Donnie is using some kind of invention to blah blah blah nerd stuff. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative journalism skills to find clues.

They're on their way. He just has to hold out a little longer. He can do this.

He sleeps, and in his dreams, something grabs him tight and drags him down and down and down where he can't escape.

-----

The same routine plays out over the next two days.

Leo gets two water bottles delivered, spaced, if he had to guess, about five hours apart. Bishop comes to visit him some time after the second bottle. Leo refuses to answer his questions. Bishop turns the temperature down and then leaves. A few hours later his last water bottle comes. Then nothing for the whole night.

They still don't turn off his lights, but exhaustion is starting to win over the brightness.

More than a few times, Leo tries to summon a portal on his own, without his swords. If his family is going to take their sweet time in coming, he might as well try to help them out. He tries to summon his ninpo (without glowing), tries to feel the tug inside of him that he always does when he teleports, tries to envision the place he wants to go and tunnel through space to get there.

Nothing. Always nothing.

(Donnie can make his constructs independent of his bo staff. Raph can send his projections away from his sai. Mikey's learning to use mystic powers without his nunchucks. So why does Leo need his katana? Why is he the only one this useless?)

It probably doesn't help that he's so damn hungry. It's a constant companion now, a low and hollow ache that chooses inconvenient times to turn into white hot stabs of urgency, into seizing cramps that steal his breath. The water only helps so much - it keeps him alive but doesn't satisfy, doesn't soothe. In some ways it just makes the feeling worse.

And he's always shaking, too, but he doesn't know if that's the hunger or the cold.

Maybe the cold wouldn't bother him so much if it were at least still. But the vents blow fresh air inside relentlessly, and no matter where he goes he can't seem to get out of the direct stream. The cold wind batters his tired body, and there's places his skin is starting to turn dry and flaky. His nose won't stop running, and he's allowed himself a small section of his one roll of toilet paper to blow it, already stiff and congealed and disgusting.

It's miserable.

And there's still nothing to do.

He stacks a pyramid out of his empty water bottles, knocks it down, then stacks it up again. He tries to come up with some new and exciting ways to demolish it, but it's only new and exciting for so long.

He spends a few hours of day three singing karaoke as obnoxiously as possible. He hopes everyone outside enjoys the performance.

He recounts every issue of Jupiter Jim he knows to himself, then the plot of every movie. Then he goes through Lou Jitsu films, then anything else he can think of. That eats up a good chunk of day four.

By the time he gets his first water bottle of day five, he's out of ideas to entertain himself. He's never been good at this. He doesn't know how introverts like Donnie can go multiple days without talking to someone.

But when Bishop comes back with his daily offer of conversation, Leo once again impolitely declines.

-----

Something new happens on night five.

It's been a long time since the last water bottle. Leo has been trying to sleep, but it's not coming easy; he's exhausted, but the floor is so cold and he's so sore from staying on it night after night. Not to mention, his nightmares have been getting worse, and he isn't eager to return to them.

Add on the hunger, and sleep is elusive.

Suddenly, there's the telltale shadow of the window above him turning dark - this time, though, it doesn't light up as much as normal. Confused and curious, Leo sits up and takes a peek.

The room beyond is dim, only the glow of a green EXIT sign and a small desk lamp lighting the space. But it's enough for Leo to see a man standing there, looking inside. It's not Bishop - in fact, he doesn't recognize this person at all. They're wearing fatigues, but it's not anyone he's seen in the room during Bishop's normal interrogations.

The man catches sight of Leo, and the grinning leer on his face makes Leo regret looking.

He beckons for Leo to stand up. Warily, Leo does, unable to help but keep his arms folded tight over his chest. Not for the first time, he wishes he had some clothes - his gear, at the very least. Anything to not feel quite so exposed.

The man reaches down and picks something up, holding it aloft for Leo's inspection. "Want a sandwich?" he asks into the microphone.

The sandwich looks like white bread and bologna. No cheese, no other toppings that Leo can spot. Maybe some mustard, if anything. Overall, the most boring possible sandwich he could have been offered.

Leo's mouth is watering.

He has to swallow hard before answering. He doesn't trust this. Even if his stomach is slamming up and down at the promise of food, food, food.

"I'm not hungry," he lies.

The man laughs. It's not a kind sound. "Sure you ain't," he says. "You spend every night curled up on the floor like the dumb animal you are. Can you even eat this?" He waves the sandwich for emphasis.

Leo doesn't answer. He takes a step back from the window, like that will put any kind of distance between them. Like that will save him.

The man watches him with a sleezy grin. He waves the sandwich again.

"You want this," he says.

Leo shakes his head.

"You really sure?"

Leo shudders. Stands tall. Nods.

The man watches him for a long, long moment. Leo fights the urge to hide.

Finally, with a shrug, the man says, "Suit yourself."

Then he starts eating the sandwich. Right where Leo can watch.

Leo's stomach growls, loud and angry in his ears, and he has to physically hold himself back from crumpling.

After several bites, the man suddenly reaches out and taps the window, indicating the cot stood up in front of the toilet.

"That," he says, giving another tap for emphasis, "doesn't do shit."

Leo wants to crawl out of his own skin.

The need to hide is suddenly too great. He rushes to the cot, grabbing it and dragging it back to the blind spot under the window. He sets it down on all four legs, so it's as close to the floor as possible.

Then he lies down on his belly and wriggles underneath. It's a tight squeeze, and the cot ends up pushed up by his shell, suspended in the air, but he doesn't care.

He curls up in his pleasant lie of privacy and bites his hand to keep from screaming himself hoarse.

After an eternity, the window above him turns white again. It doesn't matter. Leo knows he's still there. Still watching.

-----

"You look tired," Bishop greets him. Leo answers with a dead-eyed stare.

"I keep telling you, if you want your conditions to improve, all you have to do is answer my questions."

Leo says nothing. He just stares, arms wrapped tight around himself to try and keep his body heat in.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways accessed?"

For a moment, Leo considers just... telling him.

His family doesn't live in the Hidden City. The yokai have never exactly greeted them with open arms. What does he care if these military guys go after them? At least then, maybe he can finally eat something.

That's not what a hero does, Leo! echoes Mind Raph disapprovingly. Innocent people will get hurt!

Right. He's a hero. And heroes don't give into the demands of shitty guys like Bishop.

Leo swallows hard. "No comment."

Bishop's face changes ever so slightly: his brow creases. Leo wonders if that's good or bad for him.

"You understand that Baron Draxum is a known threat, don't you?" he asks. "We are aware of his plans to commit mass murder on the human population. We also know that he has been dormant for some time, and we need information on what he is planning."

Leo thinks of Barry's ambitions to be recognized as the best lunchperson in all of America and can't help but laugh. It comes out cracked and wheezing.

Bishop's furrow gets deeper. "Do you think this is funny?"

"Little bit," says Leo.

Bishop has a chasm to rival Raph's now. Leo knows he shouldn't, but he grins. It's his one moment of triumph - only he can be this aggravating.

And then Bishop says, "Temperature down seven degrees," and that wipes the smile right off Leo's face.

-----

The plastic of the water bottles is soft and pliable and feels weirdly good under Leo's teeth.

He chews the top of the bottle, gnawing at it until it's completely flattened out, pockmarked with little tiny indents from his incisors. It's not eating - it won't fill his belly or ease the persistent hunger pains. But something about the motion is soothing. The place-bo effect.

Pla-ce-bo, corrects Donnie's voice in his mind, sounding testy.

Where are you? Leo thinks back.

There's no answer.

He's gnawed his way through four water bottles. There's eighteen in total now, two and a half still full of water. He thought about using one to wash up a bit, but decided against it in the end. He knows he stinks, but the last thing he wants right now is to be wet. Not when he's starting to see his breath.

Oh well. It's not like he has anywhere to be.

He turns his attentions to the lids next. These are harder and thus tougher to chew. Still, if Leo uses his molars, he can eventually crack the lip, and then bend the plastic in and in, chewing until he ends up with a flat disc.

It's just small enough that Leo could swallow it, if he wanted to.

He thinks he remembers watching some kind of wildlife documentary. Or maybe he didn't watch it himself, but Mikey told him about it. Or maybe April? He doesn't know. His thoughts swim in and out and get lost on the way.

Point is. Sea turtles in the wild die all the time because of plastic in the water. They cut open their stomachs and find trash inside.

Well, Leo is a turtle in captivity. Maybe that means he's immune. Maybe he could swallow this plastic lid, and then he'd finally feel full and the pain pain pain of his empty stomach would go away.

He does not swallow the plastic lid. But it's more tempting than he'd like to admit.

It's going to be okay. When his family gets him out of here, they'll have a big pizza to celebrate. Maybe he can even talk them into letting him have the last slice.

It has to be any moment now, right? It's been a week. They have to be closing in. Any moment now, the door will open, and there they'll be to take him home.

The air conditioning blows relentlessly against his skin. He sneezes, then rubs the snot on his arm. He's given up on the tissue paper.

It'll be over soon. It has to be. Just hang in there, Leon, just a little longer.

He picks up another bottle and starts chewing.

-----

He's playing a mindless little game with his flattened bottle lids the next time Bishop comes.

"I'm surprised you still have any energy at all," says Bishop, and Leo wants to punch him.

(Really, he wants to do more than that. But those kinds of thoughts always make him feel weird and bad, so he pushes them away.)

"You should have learned by now," he says, pushing to his feet and trying not to show how badly he's trembling, "you can't keep me down."

"This is all unnecessary," says Bishop. "I'll feed you as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo barks out a laugh. "Sure you will."

"I will," says Bishop. He turns and says over his shoulder, "Bring it here."

One of the men in fatigues steps forward and hands a tray with a covered plate over to Bishop. Bishop uncovers the tray and holds it where Leo can see.

Baked chicken, broccoli with cheese, mashed potatoes.

Leo's stomach twists and cramps so painfully he has to bend at the hips and clutch his midriff.

"This is yours, as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo pointedly keeps from looking at the food. He shakes his head. He can't. He can't.

"Such persistence." Bishop's voice is scolding now. "You understand that you are a known accomplice to a terrorist, don't you? But if you become a cooperating witness, you will be granted some leniency."

Leo barks a laugh, lifting his eyes to look at Bishop's face, and pointedly not the food. "What's the point?" he asks. "If I'm not... protected by the constitution, or whatever. Are you going to let me go?"

"No," says Bishop. "But as I have told you, your conditions will become more comfortable." He waves the tray of food.

Leo stares at him, before a manic smile splits his face.

"You... stupid bastard. I can't even answer your questions." He slams a shaking hand against his plastron. "I'm not even a yokai! Do you get that? I'm not a yokai!"

Bishop looks skeptical. "Obviously you are."

"I'm not!" Leo rages. "I'm a mutant! I'm from New York! I don't even live in the Hidden City!"

Bishop's eyes flash. "I see," he says, "so you do know of it."

Leo falters, his body going slack.

What an obvious, stupid mistake.

(Some face-man he is.)

It takes Leo a long moment to answer. Bishop stays right where he is, holding the food so tantalizingly close and yet still out of reach.

"...I don't know about the gateways," he says finally. "I don't know about their defensive capabilities. I don't know what Baron Draxum is planning."

"Your lies are obvious," says Bishop. "You really don't want this? It's your last chance today."

Leo stares at the food. His mouth is watering so hard it might start to drip. Would it really be so bad to answer? They don't live in the Hidden City. And Draxum dropped him off a roof.

Draxum is trying to change, says Mind Raph. You see what these guys are like. You can't turn the yokai over to them. They'll hurt them!

What about me? he asks. Is it okay if I get hurt?

You're a hero, Leo, says Mind Raph. You can deal with it for a little longer. It's just a room. Just a little cold. Just some hunger.

He's a hero. He can deal with it. He can. He can.

He'll make them proud. Show them they can trust him.

It takes everything he has, but he shakes his head.

Bishop tuts. Then he throws the entire plate in the trash.

"Tomorrow, then," he says. Then the window is gone.

Leo collapses on his cot and tries not to cry.

-----

After his third water bottle on day eight, one of the fluorescent lights over his head flickers and then dies out.

It's not surprising, since they keep them running twenty-four seven. The blessedly dimmed lighting is actually nice, for once. Leo thinks maybe he could get some sleep, if the gnawing hunger and the constant shivers don't keep him awake.

He's just closed his eyes and snuggled up under his cot when it occurs to him: they may come in to fix it. If keeping the lights on day and night is part of their plan to torture him, to keep him exhausted and anxious and on edge, then they have to.

Which means his chance is finally here.

He has to be careful about this. He has to be ready to move, but he can't let them know he's ready to move. He has to let them think he's too weak, too exhausted, to make an escape attempt.

(He can't let himself think that, though. He can't give up before he tries.)

So he stays under his cot, but subtly shifts it so it won't restrict his movement. He has to be ready to burst out as soon as he gets a chance. Get past whoever comes in, then get out the door. It's after the last water bottle, so it's nighttime. There will be fewer people. He can do this. He can do this.

Find his swords. Make a portal. Get out.

Just as he was thinking, after a long time has passed, there is a loud warning beep, different from the water bottle beep. An automated voice says from somewhere unseen, "Inmates clear the door. Security personnel entering. Stay still and you will not be harmed."

Then the door slides open, and someone comes in.

It's a man wearing fatigues. Leo thinks this is the one who "offered" him a sandwich the other day. He's holding some kind of gun with a long barrel. He does a sweep of the room with his eyes, coming to rest on Leo under his cot. He gives Leo the same leering grin, and waves the barrel of the gun in his direction.

"Now you behave, and we'll get along just fine," he says.

He steps to the side, and another man enters, this one wearing the kind of jumpsuit Leo sees janitors in on TV. He's carrying a stepladder in one hand and a long tube in the other. Is that what fluorescent lights look like? Leo didn't know.

The man walks to the middle of the room and sets up his stepladder. Then he walks up and pulls off the light casing. When he unhooks the old bulb, it causes the other bulb to flicker, just for a few moments.

Leo explodes out from under the cot, grabbing the man in fatigues by the legs and yanking as hard as he can. The man yelps in surprise, and Leo hears the sound of the gun going off in a random direction. The janitor shouts and drops the light bulb - the sound of shattering glass joins the cacophony.

Leo jumps to his feet and runs out the door they had been too stupid to close, sprinting toward the EXIT sign. He's exhausted and shaky but he's coursing with adrenaline, and he leans on it hard to keep him moving. Don't stop, don't stop, get out of here. He'll figure out what to do next once he's free.

Past the exit sign there's a large open room with desks and computer monitors. Most of them are off, but one lingering woman in a lab coat, seated at her desk, screams when she sees Leo dash through the middle of the office space.

"Security!" she screams into a device on her chest. "Inmate is escaping! Inmate is escaping!"

Leo doesn't have time to shut her up, he just keeps moving. He pushes through the next door and arrives in a hallway; he only has time to glance one way and then the other before scrambling to the left, hoping it was a good choice.

He rounds a corner and sees another green EXIT sign up ahead. It's not where he meant to go - he meant to find where they're keeping his swords first. But he hears shouting behind him and doesn't stop. Fine, so no portals - he'll figure out something else once he's away from here.

He throws himself forward into the exit door, which leads him into yet another hallway. Another long sprint, with shouting and slamming doors at his heels, and then finally, finally, a third EXIT sign, and he crashes outside.

Where there's snow on the ground, snow on the trees.

It steals his breath away. There shouldn't be snow. It's May.

Where is he?

He takes a breath of air so cold it seizes his lungs, then takes a step forward. He'll worry about that-

BANG!

A piercing pain in his shoulder nearly sends him toppling over. Leo shouts, grasping for the wound and feeling something sticking out of his skin. He grabs it and yanks, pulling it free.

It's a dart.

Damn it, he thinks, before his vision goes woozy, and he collapses into the snow.

-----

"Are you proud of your little escape attempt?" comes Bishop's voice.

Leo looks up from his cot. Bishop has to get so close to the window to see him that his nose is pressed flat against it. It should be hilarious, but Leo doesn't really have the energy to laugh. Or to do much of anything.

He's hungry. He's tired. He's cold. He's still sluggish from the drugs.

And they threw away all his water bottles. Fuckers.

Leo rolls over on the cot and covers his ears.

"What a childish response," says Bishop, and that's funny, too, because Leo literally is a child. Or a teenager, anyway. He doesn't feel like it will help him much to point that out, though.

"All you have to do is answer my questions, and all this will be fixed."

That's the funniest thing of all. The idea that he spills his guts and Bishop treats him to a five course meal to make up for all the pain up till now. Hilarious.

He says nothing.

Bishop sighs.

"You are likely still affected by the tranquilizing agent. I'll return tomorrow."

Before he leaves, he says, "Temperature down five degrees."

-----

The same man is back that night. He opens the window and looks down at Leo with the same leering smile. Leo can't even take satisfaction in the bandage on the side of his head.

"Neat little trick you had yesterday," he says. "Almost got me fired."

Leo wishes it had gotten him fired. But he clearly has no luck in this situation.

"You know, I respect the attempt. And you probably would have gotten farther with a little food in your belly." The man reaches down, then retrieves a sandwich, as mouth-wateringly unappetizing as the last time. "You sure you don't want this?"

And Leo knows he shouldn't trust this guy. Leo knows he should say no.

But he's just...

so...

hungry.

So he gets up. And he turns to the window. On shaking limbs that can barely hold him upright anymore. With a body that is laced with pain and aches and cramps.

And he nods.

The man's smile gets wider. "What do you say?" he asks, in the sing-song tone of a parent scolding a child.

It makes a sick nausea rise in Leo's throat. But he wants the sandwich.

"Please," he gasps out.

"Mmm... not good enough." The man waves the sandwich. "You want this? You beg for it."

Leo stares, eyes wide. But the sandwich... the sandwich...

He gets down on his knees. Feels a searing flush of humiliation. His stomach is rolling and gurgling and cramping with pain, a hollow, empty chasm inside him desperate to be filled.

He lowers his head.

"Please," he says. "I... I want the sandwich. I'm... begging you, please."

The man laughs, loud and long. When Leo finally finds it in him to raise his eyes, the sandwich is already half eaten.

"Hey, good job," says the man, licking a bit of mustard off his thumb. "That was real convincin'."

And then he takes another bite.

Just like that, Leo forgets about the pain, the aches, the cold, the hunger. All that's left is pure, white hot, screaming rage.

Leo lunges at the window and slams his fist into it so hard it cracks. Not enough to break the glass. Not enough to free him. But enough that the man startles and steps back.

And Leo starts to laugh. High and manic and unhinged even to his own ears.

"I'll kill you," he says, and his voice sounds almost joking, and yet- "I'll kill you. You're dead. You're dead, as soon as I get out of here, you're dead, I'll kill you, I'LL KILL YOU!"

The man has dropped the rest of his sandwich. He fumbles for his gun, left somewhere on a table to the side. For one satisfying moment, Leo sees a flash of genuine fear on the man's face.

"Shit," he says, his voice far away the further he gets from the microphone. "Pretty scary, frogboy."

Then he slams a button, and the window goes black, and Leo gets a glimpse of his own reflection.

His face is gaunt and drawn. His eyes are ringed by deep circles, so dark they look like bruises. His body is shaking like a leaf.

And his stripes...

His stripes are lit up like when he uses his ninpo, but they aren't their usual Neon Leon bright.

They're almost black.

Leo gasps and stumbles back just as the window goes white. The full body quakes he feels now aren't from the cold or the hunger or the exhaustion.

He turns and sinks onto the cot. Puts his face in his hands and tries to breathe. Tries to will his ninpo to stop rolling and snapping and to go back to normal.

This isn't what he wants. This isn't him.

This place is breaking him. He's letting it break him.

He pulls his legs up onto the cot and buries his face in his knees. Wraps his arms around them and rocks gently, the way Donnie used to do when things got overwhelming. Maybe he understands that better, now.

This isn't him. He's Leonardo, Neon Leon, the face-man, the jokester! The one who's always ready with a quip and a laugh. The one who can do anything!

Except portal out of his room. Except escape from this building. Except resist begging for a sandwich like he's a dog.

Leo's breath hitches, and for once he doesn't stop himself. He knows the guy outside is probably watching. He knows there are cameras recording this. He hates giving them the satisfaction.

But he's tired, and hungry, and he...

He wants to go home.

He cries, silently, until he's completely rung out.

-----

Maybe they aren't coming.

That's the thought that pops into his head, just a bit after the first water bottle of the day.

He knew they would have gotten a late start, because he stormed out. And he knew it would take them awhile to figure out who took him - he hadn't heard of the EPF before, so why would they? And he knew it would take them time to figure out where he had been taken, which must have been pretty far out if it's snowing outside. But the EPF got him here within a night, he's pretty sure, so unless they have a super fast jet, he must still be on the continent somewhere.

So... so surely they must have figured it out by now, right? Raph is leading the team. Donnie is doing science things. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative skills.

Unless they aren't coming.

Maybe... maybe it's true. Why would they want him back, after all? Leo took Raph's leader position, and since then all he'd managed to do was piss Raph off. Mikey and Donnie hadn't been happy about it, either, and he'd noticed that they'd been avoiding him more and more. April claimed she wasn't taking sides, but she always seemed to be on Raph's anyway. And Dad... well, he was probably disappointed that he made Leo leader only for him to do nothing and then get himself kidnapped.

He doesn't bring anything to the team. He doesn't bring anything to the family. And no one likes his jokes.

So. Maybe they just... aren't looking. Maybe they aren't going to come.

Maybe he's held out this long for no reason. Maybe he's been cold and starving for no reason at all.

Maybe it's time to give up.

---

Don't give up, says a new voice in his head.

You are not alone.

-----

He has no energy left to stand when Bishop comes. The man looks down at him, lips pressed into a thin line.

"You don't look well," he observes.

No shit, Leo wants to say.

"This has gone on long enough. Answer my questions, and we will provide you with food, clothing, and medical care."

The list is getting longer. Leo's fuzzy eyes stare up at Bishop. Medical care. Does he need that?

"You already know what I want to know." Bishop has a furrow between his eyebrows now. "Will you talk to me?"

He could. He could do it. He could finally have some relief from all the pain. All the hunger. All the cold.

But they might hurt the yokai in the Hidden City.

They might hurt Draxum.

They might hurt his family.

And maybe, if nothing else... if Leo could just keep his mouth shut, just this once...

Maybe that would finally make Raph, Dad, and everyone proud of him.

Maybe they'd finally trust him.

Maybe, at least, he can have that much.

Leo shakes his head.

Bishop scowls.

"Temperature down ten degrees."

-----

Leo isn't shivering anymore. That's probably a bad sign.

He can still see his breath, each time he exhales. It rises like smoke, before disappearing into the air.

He doesn't have any energy left, not even to chew on his new water bottles. He hasn't even collected the last two, and they sit crowded together in the slot, untouched.

He kind of wishes they had just dissected him from the beginning. It would have been faster. Freezing to death, he's decided, is a real zero out of ten. Starving to death isn't any better. No stars.

Even though the damn lights are still on, he feels extremely sleepy. It's probably the cold. He wonders what will happen if he brumates. He's never done it before, not like his little cousins, and he has no idea if it's even safe.

Probably not, given he has no calorie reserves left. All it means is he won't be drinking water, either.

But he's so sleepy.

It's going to be time soon for Bishop to come back. Leo doesn't know what the point is anymore. Maybe he'll just sleep through it. Yeah, that would really make him mad. And making Bishop mad is all he has at this point.

And he'll get to sleep. It's a win-win.

So thinking, Leo rolls himself over onto his belly. Then, one by one, he pulls his limbs into his shell.

He doesn't do this much anymore, not since he started growing. His body just doesn't seem to fit his shell like it should - a side effect of the mutation, probably. It's not really comfortable to be inside for long.

But Leo is sleepy. And his shell feels like the best place to be.

So he pulls in his legs, then his arms, and then, finally, his head.

It's not any warmer in here. But at least it's dark.

At least he's not shivering.

Leo sighs, content, and closes his eyes, and drifts to sleep.

-----

(Outside his cell, there's a bang, and shouting, and a gunshot.

The sound is muffled, and Leo sleeps on.)

-----

Part 1 (here) | Part 2

#rottmnt #rise leo #agent bishop #cw: psychological torture #dandy fanfiction #I want it to be clear that any time Leo is hearing “Mind Raph”#that's just his own inner voice manifesting #please don't be mad at Raph himself lol

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miguelhugger2099 · 4 months

Text

Him and I (1/2)

Summary: You get thrown into another, another dimension while on a mission with Miguel. You end up meeting Miguel's variant where lingering feelings lie. Next Comic!Miguel x Reader x ATSV!Miguel, SMUT, PWP, Word Count: 6,808 CW: just a smidge of voyeurism

It was rough how you ended up here in another dimension and it wasn’t ideal either. Earlier, you were on a mission with Miguel and doing the usual of tracking and containing anomalies. However, this one was a little rough, giving both you and Miguel a hard time with how slippery it had been. Arriving at the scene, Miguel quickly barked orders at you to scan the place to track and trace any possible disrupted canon events. While he went one way, you went the other and for a while, neither of you had been able to grab it. Until your watch pinged with a hologram of Miguel’s face calling to tell you he found the anomaly and was leading it towards you for some backup. Putting on your mask, you swung away on your webs to meet him halfway.

One thing led to another and both of you were hollering at each other different plans and strategies since this anomaly was somehow escaping every chance it got. Miguel grabbed on its neck and yanked it back which made it screech and slam him against a brick wall. He grunted and let go from the sheer force of it. The anomaly went head first for you to which you jumped on its back. Eventually, you held onto it and tried to use your watch to open a portal. The anomaly tried ripping you off it, scratching your watch and damaging the touch pad. Whatever number you tried putting in, was jumbled up and yet a portal opened up anyway. Time and space warped around you two, the wormhole trying to suck up anything. The anomaly then grabbed you and ripped you off its back, throwing you into the portal which shut right after you went through. So here you are, in a dimension that isn’t your New York, but it did look like a certain someone’s Nueva York. Tall buildings, hovercrafts and holographic billboards were plastered everywhere. You looked down at your watch and saw claw marks on the touchpad, small sparks of electricity fizzed out but it wasn’t too damaged, you decided. You weren’t glitching so you counted that as a win. You heard a familiar zip of web shooters being used from above. Tilting your head up, you saw the familiar red and mostly blue suit swinging by and ignoring you. You squinted at the figure leaving.

“Miguel…?” You whispered to yourself. Pushing the watch problem aside, you began following him, trying to catch up to him. “Miguel!” You called out through the whipping winds as you gained speed.

His figure thwipped around, seemingly trying to get you off his tail. You grew frustrated. Why was he just avoiding you? If he was here, that means the anomaly had gotten away and it’d be more work for both of you.

He then made a sharp turn around a tall building. You nearly passed it but you stopped yourself just in time to swivel your head around to see where he had gone. Your eyes honed in on his figure crawling up the side of the building and into an open window. With determination, you shot your web to the building and began crawling up. Once you made it to the damn near very top, you opened the window and crawled in. With your feet now planted on the floor, you took off your mask and looked around. It was a bedroom and a large one at that with a giant king sized bed and a giant set up where you assumed would display a holographic screen. You noted it was dark too with all the lights switched off and Miguel was nowhere to be seen. You were sure you saw him crawl in this room. You began walking around the room just to make sure, trying to find anything. When you didn’t–the lack of pictures was appalling– you made your way over to the bedroom door and took a peek outside of it. The hallways were just as dark, if not darker. You took a step out and squinted your eyes, hoping your vision would adjust to the lighting.

You heard a shift far in front of you and paused in your steps. You tried focusing on whatever was in front of you and that’s when you saw red eyes. You froze and held your breath while the eyes simply watched you, slightly moving as it seemingly saw you through the dark.

These eyes were familiar to you and so you dropped your guard. “Miguel…?” You called out again. “What the hell? I was right behind you! Did the anomaly throw you in here too?”

You tried approaching him but then backed up when he came closer as well, at a faster rate than you thought. Your gasped and your spider senses went haywire. With a bit of difficulty on your end, you looked up to see someone who wasn’t Miguel. Or you thought.

The man had Miguel’s scarlet orbs, but instead of brown hair he had dark red hair to match his eyes. Instead of brown skin, he had white skin. He had a similar face shape with the same sharp cheekbones and strong jawline but his face was a bit longer than that. You noticed a five o’clock shadow he might’ve been planning to shave off soon. His height was shorter than your Miguel but it was still tall enough to tower over you. His face was in a scowl, teeth bared and claws unsheathed, on guard for the danger that he decided you were. You took a glance down his chest, the spider emblem different than you remember–much sharper than your Miguel’s geometric shapes.

“Who…who are you?” You asked, taking a few steps back and this man following, his eyes never leaving yours. If you searched for a while longer, you would’ve seen a hint of disbelief and hidden fondness.

“Miguel O’Hara. Who are you?” He growled. You gulped flinching when your back hit the wall and his clawed hand struck the space by your head to cage you against him.

You stated your name with a shake of your voice. It seemed to anger him further.

“Don’t lie to me.” He grit his teeth, his lips curled to show his fangs.

“It–It’s not! I swear!” You insisted. “Listen, I can explain. I’m from another dimension. I–I’m part of this society full of other people like us—with spider powers. I got…blasted here by some villain when I was with you—or the variant you–but I’m not here to fight some more.” You sighed, hoping he could have some sense and maybe believe you.

Miguel’s eyes narrowed down at you to search and scan for just an ounce of lying in your tone but he found none. His facade cracked for a moment, almost melancholy and sad before hardening again. He separated from you, standing taller and retracting his talons back to his fingertips. You saw him hesitate to lift his hand up but he decided against it. “How did you get here?” He asked lowly.

You lifted your wrist to show your damaged watch. “It’s more or less a dimension hopping device,” You elaborated. Miguel attempted to slip it off your wrist but you stopped him. “I have to keep it on or else I’ll start glitching and–it hurts.” You laughed nervously a bit at the end. Miguel’s facial expression didn’t waver. He only held your wrist–gently at that– and turned it around to examine it.

“I can fix it.” He murmured nonchalantly with a raise of his reddish eyebrow. You sighed. Even in another dimension, Miguel is just as sure of himself. He looked up to meet your eyes, softer but still guarded. “If you’ll let me.”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Yes, please, of course. That’d be great. Thank you.” He let go of your hand and turned around to a space in his home where various inventions laid around and you followed suit with big eyes. “Woah… This is..cool.” You mumbled. Miguel looked over his shoulder as he walked, a ghost of a fond smile on his lips when you weren’t looking. Then suddenly, a bright yellow figure popped up. She was life sized with long white blonde hair in a side part with a white long dress.

“Welcome home, Miguel,” She placed her hands behind her back and gave him a dimpled smile. Her smile faltered when she saw you. “Is that–”

Miguel cut her off by introducing your name to her. “She’s from another dimension. That’s all, Lyla.” You couldn’t see Miguels face but you did see Lyla’s–which you were surprised at the stark difference. You saw her eyes glance at Miguel and then stand up a bit taller, her smile coming back. It was as if they had a mutual understanding.

“Of course, Miguel.” She closed her eyes and phased out again, leaving the two of you alone again. Miguel turned around to face you and gestured to a stool by a nearby table. You walked over and sat on it, Miguel grabbing another chair–and a toolbox it seemed–and placing himself beside you. He offered his hand and you gave it to him, your size difference being much clearer. Miguel took off his suit gloves which surprised you once more since your Miguel’s suit wasn’t necessarily standard fabric like this one. But since this one had claws too, the suit must also be made of some technology you’re not aware of.

Miguel took a look inside the damage the claws had done to the watch and began working on it silently. You took the time to notice his features and began comparing it to the other Miguel subconsciously.

The five o’clock shadow you had noticed before was also coming in red. It seemed like this version of Miguel leaned more into his Irish side. His hair was in a short side part, with his fringe falling on his forehead but he didn’t seem to pay any mind to it. The small glances he took at you made you see his eyes more clearly. They were the same red as your Miguel and equally as beautiful.

You pushed that thought away. It was strange to think that way about your boss’ variant, much less your boss himself. You admit he’s handsome–the two of them– and you could also tell that they knew that.

“Had enough staring?” He asked when you turn away to shake off your thoughts. If you didn’t know any better, it’d sound like he was teasing you.

“Have you?” You shot back. “I saw you staring too.”

“I was.” Miguel answered simply. He placed a screwdriver down, popping open the screen and examining it further. “Sorry about that. You…remind me of someone.”

The air had felt heavier. You had a gut feeling and you decided to see if you were right. “Did you know another me?”

Miguel nods, not looking up. “My own you, she passed,” He picks apart the device carefully, making sure to not damage it further. “Seeing you and sensing you…I was convinced you were some villain trying to haunt me. But I know now that it’s not true.” He says with little to no emotion. Maybe he was just hiding it under a facade. It wouldn’t be the first time you were on that end.

“I’m sorry,” You tried to apologize but he stood up, taking a piece of your watch with him.

“Nothing’s really damaged other than the screen. It shouldn’t be a problem to fix.” He says softly, and turns away to another side of the room. You purse your lips, deciding whether or not to play into his bad habits of closing off when he just opened up. You decided the former and asked another question.

“How long will it take?”

He pauses. “Do you hate it here already?”

“What?! No. No, of course not! I mean, I can't hate what I don’t know. Not to say I don’t know you. I know a Miguel just maybe you’re different. Which isn’t a bad thing but it’s just I can’t overstay–I need to go home because that would be invading your space.”

Miguel looks over at you and the corners of his lips are turned up. “I was joking.”

You stop your rambling and frown at him. “Your humor is bland.” Miguel laughs through his nose and shakes his head.

“You’re still the same…” He murmurs to himself. He shrugs off that thought, thinking it was disrespectful to the you that he once knew.

“It won’t take long,” He speaks to you. “I don’t have the exact materials as this but it’s still possible to make them. It should take a couple days. Maybe a little more or less a week.” He pulls up a holographic monitor and touches across the screen.

A week, you thought to yourself, at best. Miguel took another look around the damaged screen he’d plucked off your watch.

“Did I make this?” He looked over at you and you instinctively sat up straighter. “The other me.” He clarified.

“Well, yeah,” You shrugged on one side. “Made the blueprint and had Lyla help make it.”

“Lyla?” He hummed with a raise of his eyebrows. “Hm.” His jaw clenched, feeling a tinge of envy for his counterpart. He did dimensional travel and he had you around? It wasn’t fair. With a click of his tongue, he placed the screen back down and moved away from the table, opting out to type things you couldn’t see on another monitor.

You felt awkward sitting there with nothing to do so you stood up and looked around, keeping a respectful distance from Miguel and his things. You didn’t notice the way he stopped typing and admired you through the reflection of his monitor.

Same curve of your nose, shape of your jaw, same way your eyelashes fluttered. Miguel wished you were a ghost in that moment, maybe then he wouldn’t feel that agonizing itch to hold you again. “Do you…want a change of clothes?” He asked you, pulling you out of your bubble. “I have some of her things still here, lying around.” He offered, trying to appear nonchalant. You looked down at your spider suit. It was a bit dirtied from being thrown around so you could use a pair of comfortable clothes.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t want to ruin her things or anything.”

Miguel shook his head and made his way out, ushering you to follow him. “I insist. I’d rather her things be used than lying around anyway.” You two had walked into his bedroom again. He opened his bottom drawer and pulled out some shirt and sweatpants. He held onto them a little longer before inhaling and passing them to you.

You looked at the clothes, noting how he looked at them “I really don’t have to wear them–”

“Please.” Miguel insisted. You blinked once and licked your lips, giving him time to make sure before you took it in your hands. You held it close to your chest.

“Bathroom?” You asked. He pointed down the hall and you followed, closing the door behind you and leaving Miguel alone with his thoughts. He rummaged through his drawer to find his own set of comfortable clothes outside his suit. He thought to himself, thinking about you and trying to find any differences. Your nose bridge was different but the tip of it was the same. Your hair texture was the same but you had a slightly different hue.

He didn’t know whether or not he wanted to help you. On one hand, you were the ghost of his past–the figure that taunted him of his failures as Miguel and as Spider-Man. But on the other hand, he missed you. All he ever wanted was to see you again and he wanted to selfishly keep seeing you. He sat at the edge of his bed, battling with his inner thoughts until he heard you come back.

Miguel looked up and got the wind knocked out of his chest. They fit you perfectly like you bought these yourself. You smiled awkwardly at him, thinking it was weird for him to see you in his dead girlfriend's clothes but he just nodded.

“Looks like it fits.” He choked out.

“They do. Thanks, again.” You smiled wearily. One week. He’d enjoy you for one week and maybe–just maybe– ask if you can come back.

Miguel didn't like the fact you offered to stay in his penthouse while he did his Spider-Man duties. Even more so when he knew you didn’t like sitting still either and only offered out of politeness. He guessed that if you were anything like him now, a being with super powers, it meant you also felt a responsibility to do something and help people. So, he invited you to join his patrols.

You declined at first. “I’ve already crashed your universe–”

“Would it kill you to just join me without being so high and mighty?” He asked with a pointed look knowing you were too nice for your own good even in his universe. You sighed through your nose and reluctantly agreed, still feeling awkward around him despite his not so stubble attempts to make you comfortable. Which was strange considering your initial hostile encounter.

For the next few days, it seemed patrolling was a nice bonding time for you two. Surprisingly, you worked well together like he knew just how you worked and acted accordingly. He knew once you spotted a small crime going on, he’d let you get the first punch in since you were a bit competitive. While swinging, he figured out you liked to hang in the air for a moment longer before using your webs again ao he swung at a distance while you could do your flips and jumps. For the entire week, you had forgotten you were technically stranded here but that fact didn’t seem to bother you.

Along with that, Miguel worked on fixing your watch, creating a small wristband that would delay your glitching while he took the device. Eventually, he did fix it and turned it brand new again. You were incredibly grateful and he just smiled softly at you through his shaded glasses. You slipped it on and was prepared to head home when he stopped you and asked if you’d like to go on a final patrol with him. You fiddled with your watch, debating but you did feel a small part of you not wanting to leave him, strangely enough. So, you went.

It had been late by the time you came back to his penthouse, opting to crawl through the window of his bedroom. The night was hotter than expected, both of you leaning on the wall to catch your breaths after ripping off your masks.

“Made sure no one followed?” You asked with a heavy sigh. Miguel propped himself off the wall and leaned over to glance outside the window beside you, his hand placed next to your head and his hand subconsciously held your hip, making you freeze. He didn’t seem to notice even as you stared shamelessly up at him. Miguel’s eyes were focused and sharp, a stark contrast to the way he squinted under his sunglasses during the daytime. His arm by your head flexed as he moved to keep himself steady but the hand on your hip was warm and comforting that left your heart fluttering. Sure, he was handsome–but you couldn’t, right? Right?

Miguel’s eyes found yours again and for a moment was confused why you seemed so stiff. You looked up at him with beady and bashful eyes that made his heart skip a beat. He instinctively looked down at your lips and back to your eyes, his hand moving up to your waist. He hunched over you, caging you to the wall and making you feel the heat radiating off his body. You stared straight even as he closed in on you by your ear, your heart pounding in your chest and down to your abdomen.

“If you want me to stop, I’ll stop.” He whispered by your ear, his thumbs by your waist caressed your hip bone, a subtle reminder of his sweetness underneath his rough exterior. Despite the short time spent together, he was sure you felt something for him after basically living with him. He was still at a distance but with your lack of reply, he took that as an answer and took a step back away from you.

Before he could, you grabbed onto his arms, keeping him in place and close to you. “No,” You said quickly. “No, don’t stop. Please.” You whispered, your heart hammering inside your chest.

Miguel came back to you, his arms securing himself around you, his own heartbeat increasing in speed. “Are you sure?” He asked softly.

You nodded. “Please.” You whispered again. Miguel took one arm off your waist to cup your cheek and tilt it up to face him. You felt heat crawl up to your cheeks meanwhile Miguel looked like he was about to take a bite of the forbidden fruit that was you. He was entranced and a little needy and eager to feel your lips on his again. Despite you being a different version of the one he knew–it was still you. Down to your hair, eyes and lips. Even the way your nose would scrunch in disgust and the way you walked and fiddled with your fingers. It was all still you. He wasn’t going to lose his chance.

So he kissed you.

He kissed you like a man starved, practically bending your back as he curled himself on top of you. You wrapped your arms around his neck to gain some stability while he pulled you close enough for you to go on your tiptoes. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss and his hand left your cheek to bend slightly to pick you up. You got the hint and wrapped your legs around him and Miguel pressed you up against the wall. His growing erection grinding slowly on your clothed heat, making the two of you moan.

Your fingers curled into his fiery hair just the way he liked and his hands grabbed at every piece of flesh he could squeeze in his palms. Miguel’s lips separated from yours, a string of saliva connecting the two of you until he brought his lips down to your neck. You leaned your head back on the wall while he worked his magic, licking and nipping at your flesh with care due to his fangs. You heard him moan, gripping you tighter as he tasted you and your breathing became heavier.

Miguel lifted you off the wall, hurrying towards his bedroom and plopping your body down on the plush, soft mattress. He took your thighs and separated them to see the wet patch seeping out your spider suit. You felt his talons gently probing your skin and his eyes met yours again as he paused.

You nodded once again and with new vigor, he took one clawed hand and slashed the bottom half of your suit apart along with your panties. You gasped.

“Miguel…!”

“I’ll get you ten shocking suits. Just let me have you.” He groaned and delved between your legs. He licked up a stripe and your breath hitched, your hands immediately finding his hair. Miguel felt himself strain in his own suit, bucking his hips pathetically against anything he could find while he ate you out. His tongue probed your entrance and his nose rubbed against your clit that made your arch your back and thrust yourself on his mouth. His fingers joined his mouth in pushing you to your limit, coaxing more moans and whimpers from your pouting lips.

You covered up your mouth with your hand, covering up your face in embarrassment. The sounds of Miguel slurping and licking up your essence made you so much more wet and weak. You squirm underneath his hands and Miguel growls, using his strength to keep your legs in place and apart while he indulges in the taste of you. His eyes are closed, salivating and devouring your juices with every lap of his tongue. His fingers spread your lips open, sliding one finger in and swirling his tongue in your pussy. You clench around his wet muscle and finger, feeling him smirk against you.

Miguel continues to ease his finger inside you, pumping it too slowly for your liking. You whined which made his cock twitch and you pleaded for more. Drunk on your sweetness, he complied and added a second finger, the stretch becoming evident. You arched your back off the bed and you felt Miguel's other hand caress your thigh comfortingly. His moans send vibrations to your clit and grind yourself desperately on him while squealing his name.

“Hmm–Fuck, Mi-ggy…” You whined, pressing your thighs around his head. You felt Miguel pause for a split second, the nickname you’ve given him had gone straight between his legs. He gained more confidence to please you, taking his fingers out to grab your breast and sucking on your clit. The sensation of him forcibly spreading you apart again and the combination of your nipple being tweaked pulled and his tongue made you feel shocks of electricity down your spine. You felt the pit of your abdomen growing with your upcoming climax and you started thrashing around as much as you could with Miguel holding you down.

“Miggy! Fuck–Don’t stop!” As if he would ever, now that he’s tasted your delectable pussy. He only continued the same pace that had you squirming and chasing you high. His fingers teasing your nipples after every swirl of his tongue and the bubble pops inside you.

You scream his name into the air and grip on the sheets beside you while screwing your eyes shut. You humped on his eager mouth, drinking in whatever you gave him with a satisfied hum. He pressed closer to make sure he could lap up as much as he could but still, drips of you slid down his chin and around his lips. You mewled when the high finished and you were left with a sensitive pussy that he still made sure to clean you up with his mouth.

With hazy eyes, you stared at him still between your legs, watching with a smirk as you collected yourself. Miguel swirled his tongue around his lips to clean himself off and even used his hands to scoop up the parts he couldn’t reach to lick it off spotlessly, not a single ounce of your cum going to waste. It made you burn in embarrassment but also gaining a weak pulse to your twitching pussy.

He kneeled over you, drinking in your naked body from the flyaways in your hair to the way your legs shook after just orgasming. His stare was intense and it made you want to hide yourself from just how long he’d been looking at you for. You didn’t know it, but Miguel felt a twinge of heartache in his chest. He missed you–the other you dearly– and it felt strange that in a way you’re still here but different. He felt afraid that this might’ve been on impulse. You look like her, sound like her, but yet you haven’t experienced things with him like her. The you in front of him was, in a way, a whole different woman.

“Miguel?” You gently pulled him out of his mind. Oh, how your eyes still send his heart racing when he looks at you. Your eyes held concern and worry in them. Was he regretting it? Should you stop? It was the opposite. One look at you and Miguel’s worries had faded.

It’s still you down to your core. The one he had truly fallen in love with. In every lifetime and in every universe, he was meant to be beside you. He leaned in to nuzzle against the softness of your neck and pressed a lingering kiss to your jaw. “Nothing,” He eased your worries. “You’re just simply gorgeous.” He murmured and you felt a blush crawl up your neck.

Miguel made his way down your neck to your chest where he continued to leave kisses in his wake. His head of red hair curled slightly from the sweat that had built up between the two of you and it tickled you on his way down. Your bashful state was cut short when he flicked your nipple with his tongue and it made you whimper. Your mind had gone up in the clouds once more when he began suckling on the bud, the nerves of it sending signals to your pussy, making you wet again.

Miguel took a moment to rid himself of his own suit and underwear, returning to please your tender breasts. His knee had gone in between your thighs to push one leg away and his hand delved down to rub your swollen clit. His fingers rubbed in small circles that made you melt and lean your head back while his mouth continued its attack on gently biting your now hardened nipples. Your hands ran through his hair which encouraged him further and you both moaned in unison.

Miguel pulled away from your tits, a small smirk on his lips as he saw the bitemark around your bud beginning to form. His hand left your sopping cunt and licked off the sweet nectar that was you with a hum of his voice. The sight left you shivering and he leaned back down to kiss you, making you taste yourself. You mewled as he forced his tongue inside to find yours in a heated dance. Your eyes rolled back and you pressed your chest up which made him groan when he felt your hard nipples graze his skin.

You felt a blunt poke at your entrance and Miguel pulled away just enough for his forehead to be above yours. He looked into your eyes, another check to see if this is what you wanted–what you both wanted. You nodded again, firmly this time, and he didn’t need another second.

Miguel pushed his fat cockhead between your lips to coat his length before entering it inside you. You winced and Miguel buried himself in your neck, his hand on your hip, caressing you and encouraging you to hold onto him. You wrapped your arms around him as he pushed further inside you, his size being nothing you’ve experienced. “I know, I know,” He shushed you, kissing your neck to distract you. “Such a pretty girl. You can take it, sweetheart.”

You whimpered at his praise, digging your nails in his back that left red crescents behind, a faint click sounding out that neither of you heard when you bumped your hand on his shoulder. “Miguel…” You moaned, spreading your legs further apart while he shook, sliding himself inside you.

Miguel moaned your name back, finally pushing himself to the hilt and his balls slapping your cunt with a wet smack from the combination of your weeping core and his spit. You wiggled your hips at the snug fit and tried to get used to his size but he stopped you, hissing and digging his nails in your flesh to anchor himself from cumming immediately. He kissed your cheeks to ease you while he gently pulled in and out in small strokes.

“More….harder…” You mewled, your walls finally used to his girth and clamping down on his throbbing cock to suck him in deeper. Miguel grabbed your hips and lifted it up with his inhumane strength and began moving, his cock glistening with your slick when he pulled out and hearing it squelch inside your wet cunt when he pushed back in. Your nails scratched at his chest and he grabbed one of your hands to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist. “You’re driving me crazy,” Miguel moaned. “This cunt’s just been waiting to be fucked, huh?” He huffed, slowly gaining speed. When you didn’t respond, he slammed into you and made you scream from his tip hitting your sweet spot. “Yes!” You sobbed, feeling his hands push your legs up to your chest and hammered himself in your pussy. You wrapped your arms around him while he pounded into you, hiding yourself in his neck. The bed creaked below you two, sheets shuffling from the force of Miguel ravaging your body. Miguel rested his arm above your head and held onto your thigh, making sure you were spread open while he adjusted his position to be more comfortable while pistoning his throbbing cock. He let out small grunts and moans, nipping at your neck and being careful with his fangs. With his dick hitting a different spot, you wrapped your legs around his waist to push him deeper. It seemed like even with him stretching your walls and splitting you apart, it was never enough–you wanted more. In the pit of your stomach, you knew you needed to have something more. His fucking was still mind-blowing, his talons gently poking your plush thighs and balls slapping rhythmically to the sounds of your whimpers and cries, which he adored. “So pretty, you sing so pretty for me,” He murmured, choking on his own pleasure as he felt you gushing around him just from the sheer ecstasy that coursed through your veins. “So tight and so warm—oh, god–” He groaned, picking up pace that had you squealing and clenching around him. “Lemme fill this pretty pussy, hm? Can I? Hm?” He moaned, trailing his wet lips down your chest to latch onto your nippled again, His tongue flicking the perky nub and pulling it between his teeth.

“Yes, yes, yes–God, yes–please!” You wailed, your hands scratching his shoulder blades and digging into his skin for purchase while you bucked in time with his thrusting. You eyes rolled back then closing them to focus on the way his cockhead was slamming into your sweet spot at just the pace you liked. You felt Miguel suck on your nipple, switching to the other side to give it equal amounts of attention. You shuttered and cried his name, finally feeling the dam break inside you. “Miguel!” Your vision going white and the euphoria of it washing over your body while you felt your pussy cum all over his length and squeezing him. Miguel let out a guttural groan deep from his throat when he felt you cum and clamp around him. Your cum slicked his cock and pelvis, and he then went faster to reach his own orgasm. You thrashed under him, feeling incredibly sensitive while he kept slapping against your pussy and pounding inside your walls. You moaned that you were just too sensitive, tears collecting at your eyes from overstimulation. He let go of your nipple and kissed you quickly to stop your whining. He lifted his head to watch you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping onto him tightly and whimpering. His eyes were bewitched with the scene of your tits bouncing, bite marks littered across the plump flesh. His eyes scanning down to see your slick making a mess between your legs after cumming, the way small strings connected to his person. But the sight of his massive cock sliding easily inside your pussy, your folds welcoming him by wrapping around him–he snapped from within and came hard. Miguel quickly grabbed the sheets so his talons could rip through them instead of you, his body curling as he let out a final groan and his cock spurted his seed in you. He continued to pump his load, feeling his cock soften and twitch out the rest of himself in strings of salty cum–a white ring forming on the base of his dick. He huffed, shaking as he made sure all of his cum stayed inside you. When he pulled out, a small white string connected from his tip to your pussy, slipping apart when he was far away enough. He watched the mess between your legs for a moment, breathing heavily as his seed oozed out of your folds and his heart began to beat a little bit faster.

Miguel carefully lifted himself off the bed to go to the bathroom and returned with a towel to clean between your legs. He carefully wiped your clean, being extra careful around your abused pussy. He watched you to make sure you weren’t in any discomfort, but you nearly fell asleep with how gentle he was. Miguel tossed the soiled towel into his hamper and slid back into bed with you. He brought you into his chest while he laid on his back, and he brought his covers up to your chin. You wrapped yourself around him and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, his hand running up and down your arm soothingly.

For a while, neither of you spoke, a strange comforting silence in the air. That is, until Miguel broke it.

“Miggy?” He asked. You grunted, still half-asleep and barely conscious.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, thinking it was rude of you to call him something so casually. Miguel huffed and looked down at you, his other hand petting your hair back.

“No, no. I didn’t mind. It was cute,” He smiled even if you couldn’t see it. “Do you…think you could stay?” He asked hesitantly.

His question made you wake up, the tone had gone a little serious but you knew what he meant. “I can’t,” You whispered and you felt his chest deflate. You felt horrible but you knew better than to stay in a dimension that wasn’t yours. “But…maybe I could come back?” You offered.

Miguel stiffened and you heard his heart beating faster. “Really?” You nodded and snuggled against his chest.

“I can’t stay but it’s not against the rules to visit other dimensions.”

Miguel scoffed at the mention of rules but if he got to see you again then that’s all that matters. “Will you go in the morning?” He asked, hoping you’d say no.

“I think I’ll stay a while.” You murmured sleepily and Miguel grinned to himself, letting you sleep peacefully in his arms.

While you had fallen asleep in the comforting arms of your boss’ variant, you failed to notice the shutter of your watch clicking off from a call.

Miguel O’Hara, leader of the Spider Society and the one who had been looking for you all this time, was sitting alone in his office panting heavily. Sweat accumulated on his forehead and thighs, a hue of crimson across his cheeks as he let go of his softening cock. Splatters of his cum, drenched his hand and desk and he groaned realizing what he had done.

He hadn’t meant to spy on you and your intimacy with whoever you wanted. He wasn’t expecting to hear from you after losing you on a mission, much less moaning his name. At first, he was relieved that you were alive and was about to speak until you squealed his name so sweetly. Miguel froze, wondering if you somehow got home and didn’t tell him. Whatever you did on your time was yours, but you were calling out to him. Eventually he learned it wasn’t him, but a different version. He debated whether to click out or not but some sick and twisted emotion inside him reveled in the way you begged and writhed underneath his variant.

Miguel had phased his hardening cock out of his suit and began pumping it slowly in time with his variants thrusts. He focused solely on you rather than the man that looked nothing like him. Another sick thought in his head wished his variant looked more like him, so he could imagine himself fucking you properly. Miguel made sure he was muted as he grunted and cursed under his breath, muttering praises to you in Spanish he knew you couldn’t hear. He made sure to edge himself, wanting to cum when he heard you scream his name. He bursted a fat load onto himself and the desk as you cried out your orgasm, watching you throw your head back and clutch onto his variant while you shook violently around his cock.

He grit his teeth, jealousy brewing in his heart at how hard you came. He could do better.

Once his mind had cleared up, he blushed heavily, shame overcoming his previous desires and covered his face. Despite being alone, he felt someone watching–which was hypocritical given what he had done. Before he ended the call, he traced your coordinates to find where you had been stranded all this time. Tomorrow, he’d find you and get you back.

A/N: i'm a proud lover of all versions of miguel !!!!! please be patient for part 2 🙏

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut

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httpdwaekki · 3 months

Text

soothe | h.j.

summary: you were well aware of jisung's anxiety, but you notice he takes a certain interest in the ink on your skin.

wc: 966

warnings: brief mentions of anxiety, mentions of the reader having tattoos. not proofread at all. lowercase intended.

a/n: i used to color and trace my tattoos when i got anxious so i was just thinking about ji doin the same thing. also it is very late and i'm running on a solid 4 hours of sleep but i wanted to write something so now we have this LMAO. anyway i hope u enjoy and as always, drink water, eat something, and take ur meds. <3

my library

(pictures are not mine! credit to owners!)

you were well aware of jisung's anxiety. you yourself suffered from it so you understood, the feelings and frustrations that came along with the sinking feel.

you weren't always sure what would trigger the uneasy feeling in the boy, but you were there no matter what. you knew sometimes you just had to put on an anime and hold him until he felt better.

other times you'd sit and listen as he voiced this thoughts running rampant in his head.

however there was something new that you noticed you would lay with him. he'd trace the ink along your skin, drawing every line and every shading etched into your soft skin.

you noticed it when you were laying on your bed one day when the ugly feeling settled in his tummy once again. jisung was in front of you, his back to your chest, yours leaning against the head board, arms wrapped loosely around his torso, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on his stomach.

jisung was barely paying attention the show lowly playing on the screen. not that you were either, hyper focused to gage any change in his demeanor, making sure he was relaxing.

that's when you felt it, the soft brush on your arm, right where your favorite flower was inked into the skin of your forearm. you glance down, watching for a moment, as he traced the lines one by one before moving on to the next section of art.

you couldn't help the heat the rose to your cheek, as he careful recreated the marks so beautifully etched onto your skin. as you watched you had an idea. you place a soft kiss to his hair before lightly tapping his tummy.

"get up for a second bub, i'm gonna grab something quick." you felt him tense, turning his head towards you, hesitating for a moment. "i'll be right back jagiya, i promise. less than 2 minutes." he slightly nodded before sitting up. you place a kiss on his shoulder as you scoot out from behind him.

quickly making your way to your office, you find exactly what you were looking for. you quickly grab it, making your way back to your room. you find jisung in the same place you left him, expect he looked zoned out, toying with the strings of his hoodie.

you sit beside him, placing a gentle hand to his puffy cheek. you looks up, boba eyes shining with worry. you could practically see the thoughts clouding his pretty mind. you give him a smile before placing the bag of colorful markers in his lap.

he looks down at the bag and back to you, confusion now present in his eyes. "so you could color them in if you want." you shrugged, getting up, kissing his forehead before moving to lay behind him once more.

you lightly pull him back into your embrace, arms finding home around him once more. his head positioned on your collarbone, under your chin, relaxing into your touch.

a few moments later you hear the sound of plastic rustling and the familiar sound of markers clashing against each other. once he found the color he was looking for, quietly taking the top off, and begin carefully coloring each one in.

you had a perfect view at his art from above him. your other hand continuing the soothing circles on the skin of his stomach. you smile and you watch him go from coloring to watching the tv. you place a kiss to his hair once more, as he finishes coloring in your ghost. he caps the marker, placing it back in the bag, before carefully setting the colorful ink on your bedside table.

he turns around as he makes his return to you, his turn to wrap his arms around you. you gladly take him into your arms as he shoves his face into your neck. you stay there for a moment before he places a kiss in the junction of you neck and shoulder.

"you okay, ji?" you asked softly. he nods, "i'm okay baby, thank you." he gives you one more squeeze before pulling back.

"what would i do without you, hm?" he asks, placing peck to your lips. your lip turn upwards slightly, "i'm just helping you, jagi, you deserve to be happy." he kisses you once more, this time with a bit more passion.

"you're gonna make me start crying." he mumbles against your plush lips. "okay well don't do that, cause that'd make me sad." you shake your head. "how about i order us some take out and we just stay like this for the rest of the night?" you offer, staring into his boba eyes.

"and if you wanna talk later, i'm here to listen okay?" he nods, falling back into your embrace. "i love you okay? i'm always here, whenever, where ever, you say the word i'm there." you place a kiss to the side of his head.

you feel his breathing start to become uneven, panic arising in your chest. "ji? hey, hey, talk to me baby." you pull him back to look at you. big eyes now brimmed with tears. "what's going on in that head of yours, hm?" ask, rubbing his cheeks.

he shakes his head. "nothing, i just really fucking love you. i don't know what i ever did to deserve you." he says, tears slowly making their way down his face.

"you're you, you deserve everything i can give you and more, okay?" he closes his eyes, nodding his head. you place kisses over each eye lid and finally his forehead.

you pull him back to you, and that's where you stay for the rest of the night. wrapped up in each other, eating ramen before falling asleep in each other's arms.

p.s. new username ah !! i used to be voidreams but i wanted a change hehe. but i hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are always appreciated but never expected :3

#han jisung #han jisung x reader #han jisung fic #han jisung imagine #han jisung fluff #stray kids #skz #stray kids imagine #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids fic #hurt/comfort #tw: anxiety

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breadbrobin · 4 months

Note

So i saw of a guy getting lipstick kisses on him and im just obssessed with it. I want it with Luke but maybe we could have Luke put our lipstick on to mark us with kisses? Thanks for the lovely Luke fics ;3

revenge is best served red

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!reader, from any cabin]

summary: little pranks are a great way to keep a relationship fun, and if they involve lipstick? well, neither of you are going to complain too much.

warnings: kissing, reader wears makeup (lipstick mostly stated), slightly suggestive content

word count: 786

(hiiii!! i love this request it’s so cute! thank you for the awesome request, i hope you like it!)

——————————————

one thing new campers often noticed about luke castellan were the lipstick stains on his collar and skin and the silver bracelet on his wrist, both a perfect match to your lips and your own wrist. he wore both with pride, always one to wear his heart on his sleeve and, well, your lipstick on his shirts.

you’d never tried to hide your relationship. how could you, after all, when luke stumbled out from behind your cabin with lipstick marks all over his face and you followed him not long later, makeup smudged and hair messy? that was a pretty good giveaway that you were together.

luke had always liked revenge. good, cold, sweet revenge. but you had never been a target. nope. never.

until he drew a heart with an ‘L’ in it on your cheek while you slept one night, and you went around camp as usual for three hours before you realised it was there. then all bets were off.

you wore your brightest, boldest lip looks, pressing kisses to his cheeks, to his hands to the corner of his mouth. he wore them with pride.

“you’re never embarrassed,” you’d whined to him one day.

he’d wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer, smiling. “i’d never be embarrassed by you. how could i be?”

that had been enough for you to shut him up with more deep red kisses for a while.

revenge came to you one day though. cold and sweet.

you went simple. and cold. definitely cold.

a bucket of ice was tipped over luke just before he was set to start training, courtesy of you, of course. what you hadn’t expected, was getting chased by a soaked, cold, luke, and hugged tightly as the ice permeated through your clothes too. regardless, he admitted that you’d got him, and finally, you could relax. pranks had never been your strong suit anyway.

as time went on, all of that took a backseat. more than anything else, you were just… happy.

luke was, first and foremost, a picture perfect boyfriend. always opening doors for you, pressing kisses to your cheeks and lips, carrying your bags and always respecting you. but he was so annoying sometimes.

like now, as he sat on your with your makeup bag in front of him, tipped out onto your sheets.

you were sitting on the floor with a colouring book as he sorted through your products, studying some of them and swatching them on his hand and wrist. you weren’t quite sure was he was doing—you had your back to him—but whatever it was was making you slightly nervous. he hummed every now and then, either in confusion or satisfaction, you weren’t quite sure. that was the only thing that broke up the silence in the otherwise empty cabin.

“hey, babe,” he said suddenly.

“yeah?” you didn’t look back at him.

“what colour lipstick do you think would suit me best?”

you frowned and turned around, then covered your mouth with a giggle. “oh my gods.”

luke’s lips were painted in a deep red, messy and over-lined more than kylie jenner. he was smiling goofily. “what?”

“you look like the joker. and not the cool one.” you giggled, hand still over your mouth.

“so not this colour?” he grinned.

you shook your head, lowering your hand with a laugh. “no, not that colour.”

“hm…” he looked in a handheld mirror and pouted dramatically. “guess i’ve got to take this off then.”

you were about to reach for your makeup wipes when his lips landed on yours. you were confused for a moment, before you couldn’t help but laugh into the kiss as the lipstick rubbed off onto your lips and face.

he pulled away and smiled. “i see why you like doing that.”

“like doing what?” you asked breathlessly.

his thumb smeared the lipstick just below your lips slowly. “making such a mess.”

he kissed you again, slowly guiding you up and pushing your makeup aside so you were on your bed with him, then pushing you down gently so you were lying below him.

he peppered lipsticked kisses all over your face, eliciting giggles from you, and, when he finally pulled back, your face was more red and pink than anything else. he smiled down at you, his hand resting on your waist as he shifted his weight to the side. “yeah. i get it now.”

“i hate you.” you teased.

“yeah, i hate you too. but revenge is sweet. at least i’m not freezing you right now.” he grinned, his lips meeting yours again as you both laughed. you didn’t even mind that he was wasting your lipstick. with luke, nothing was a waste.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #luke castellan x you #charlie bushnell

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strawberrysturniolo · 4 months

Text

someone older pt 2 // chris sturniolo

summary: after chris and his new photographer have a successful first shoot, they struggle with the idea of them being able to have a professional relationship. teasing, degrading, spanking, rough sex, age gap, daddy kink, secret relationship.

part one

The long awaited Fresh Love drop was a success. So much so that Chris called me, thanking me profusely for my addition to the project. He went on to say that he “hopes we can work together again,” but part of me knows there’s something more to it.

The last time he was here, we made out and took a variety of photos during the act.

He wound up getting a phone call from his manager, putting a hold in our activities.

I’m not sure where that would have led us, had she not called and he had to leave. I don’t think it would have gone further. I don’t know if I would have allowed it.

It was fun in the moment, and I certainly don’t regret it. The only issue is that now with me staring at a new message from Chris about a future shoot, I have to make sure that we’re in agreement of this being simply work, not pleasure in any way.

Chris

Thanks again for the last session. I got amazing feedback from everyone. I wanted to send a message and ask you if you had time this week to do another shoot? That was kind of a test run of what pieces people might like, but now that we have more colors I need to get some more shots in them. Lmk when you’re free

Call me.

I set my phone down on my kitchen counter, trying to let the memories of him sucking my jaw flee my brain. He paid really well, but he was really great to work with, so if kissing him a little while I have fun working with him helps… then what’s the harm?

No, there’s so much harm in this.

My phone rings almost immediately after the message is sent. I hesitate answering, but realize how bad it would look if I didn’t pick up the phone after I just sent a message asking for him to call.

“Hey,” I greet him casually.

“Hey. I assume this is to follow up my message?” he asks.

I find myself pacing around my kitchen, trying to find the right words. “Yeah, but Chris–”

“But?” he cuts in. “There’s but’s now?”

I pause. “What’s wrong with there being a but?”

“This isn’t a work type but,” he goes on. “This is a ‘there’s an issue between you and me’ type but.”

I don’t respond.

“Is there?” he asks, noticing my silence.

“No. Maybe? I don’t know Chris. What I do know is that I did enjoy working with you and I’m glad the drop was what you hoped for–”

“More than what I hoped for,” he interrupts me again. “That happened because of you.”

“Maybe that’s true but if you want to keep working with me then what happened last time can’t happen again,” I say confidently, really trying to convince myself of the same.

I can picture him searching for the words to say. He settles on, “Why?”

I wish I had a better answer. “Part of it just feels wrong.”

“What about it feels wrong? I kissed you. You kissed me back. We did that together. We talked about it afterwards. We said it was good and we were glad it happened.”

“I know,” I nod to myself. I got myself in too deep. “I’m five years older than you, and this is a workplace relationship. This shouldn’t have happened. It’s highly unprofessional and it makes me look bad as an artist.”

“This relationship is also two sided,” he refutes again. “Why do you get to make the calls and decide what’s right and wrong if I was involved in it too?”

Okay… This guy might be more mature than I was led to believe.

“I mean,” he continues. “I could get in trouble too, you know? If my manager found out I was kissing all over my new photographer, I’d be toast. She’d insist on me finding someone else no matter how successful our shoots are. So if you don’t want to shoot with me anymore then fine, but if it’s because you can’t handle a little tension here and there then there’s something deeper that you need to resolve on your own.”

Part of that cuts deep until I’m suddenly stitched back up and determined to prove a point to him. Maybe this Chris Sturniolo is a fling kind of guy. Maybe he has the power over his own feelings to be able to disguise when he’s into someone, but I’m not able to do the same. It’s written on my face, and the last thing I need is for this guy five years younger than me to win this argument.

So game on.

“Come over tonight. Bring your gear and I’ll start setting up now.”

His voice is laced with a cocky tone. I can picture the smirk on his face. “I thought you’d say that.”

The rest of the day passes as I set up my studio with backdrops I spray painted a few days ago. This time, decorated with dark blue splatter designs and graffiti. In a daze and my mind wrapped around all things Chris, I graffitied the words ‘Fresh Love,’ which he went on to compliment upon arrival.

“I’m glad you came around,” he added. “They liked the shots of us together, and I didn’t want to have to search for another model for it if you were right here.”

I nod, trying to have my best poker face as if my eyes aren’t following his every move. “Stand on the X.”

He goes to his place with a smile, knowing my routine now. “Ah, test shots, huh? You do these every time?”

“Wouldn’t miss them,” I respond shortly.

He must have noticed that I’m trying to keep this as business as possible, seeing how he started making every fucking face he could to somehow turn me on. The most seductive smirks, hands in his hair, pulling his shirt a certain way so some of his skin would show more on his stomach.

I hate him.

I need more.

“The lighting is good,” I say as I stand up straight, setting the camera to its flush settings. “Do what feels natural, just like last time.”

He smiles. “If I wanted things to be like last time then you’d be in front of the camera with me.”

I suck in a deep breath. “If you behave then maybe I’ll join you.”

That shuts him up as he starts posing for me. Eventually he asks, “Can I take this sweatshirt off now? Or are we still looking for a good shot?”

I shake my head. “I think we got it. We can do some without now.”

He peels his sweatshirt off, letting it stay stuck to his shirt he wears below it, allowing it to peel up in unison and reveal his stomach and chest. The minimal but dark hairs that decorate his lower stomach give me far too much to imagine as I stare at him. I want to see more of him, and I want those clothes gone. I’m aching for him, and he’s using it to his advantage.

“You taking pictures of my clothes or my body, baby?”

I snap out of it, brought back to him at the sound of the pet name.

The name ‘baby’ leaving his lips almost has me buckling at the knees.

He pulls his bottom lip between his lips, then glances between me and his own shirt. He peels his shirt off, standing bare from the waist up in front of me, dressed now in only his gray sweatpants representing his brand. Even those hang lower and give me too much to think about.

“Put this on and stand in front of the camera,” he instructs, tossing me the shirt as he switches positions with me. “Don’t worry… I’ll turn around while you change.”

For some stupid reason I find myself listening to him. I swap my shirt for his brand, standing on the center point of the camera and allowing him to get comfortable behind it.

He looks through the viewfinder at me, studying the shot before he snaps the moment. “Beautiful,” he mumbles, standing up straight again and smiling. He cocks his head to the side. “Now lose the pants.”

“Chris…” I start to say, but he has more.

“It’s just me and you,” he assures me. “Plus, this is your camera. I have no access to this. If you really don’t want to then fine, but I promise, no one will see these besides me.”

His eyes stare into mine with a determination that says, ‘You know you want it.’

And I fucking do.

Maintaining eye contact, I unbutton my jeans and pull them off my legs slowly, tossing them to the side and standing in front of him in his own shirt and a pair of dark red panties, a thong that hugs my hips in the right way and makes my ass look like his new favorite thing.

He licks his lips, swallowing as he steps back in front of the camera, trying to bite his tongue to keep from making a certain sound or saying something foul.

I want to know what’s going on in that head of his, but I refuse to ask and act interested even if I am.

I start to take control, letting myself feel more comfortable standing in front of him half naked. I start lifting the shirt little by little as he takes more photos, the click satisfying me even more when my back is to him, my ass on full display.

“Fuck,” he sighs. “That’s it.”

My stomach is turning in the best way at every compliment, every look, every sound that leaves his mouth. He isn’t doing his best at hiding his physical reaction either, seeing that his dick is now pressed to the sweatpants around his waist.

“You okay back there?” I tease, now smiling.

“Shut up,” he warns.

I let my body relax. “Business professional, remember?”

He scoffs. “Yeah, fuck that.”

I give him a glaring look. “Chris.”

“Don’t say my name.” My stomach almost falls until he continues. “Not when you look like that and I’m trying to keep it in my pants. Do not say my name.”

My smile grows as I step closer. “So you don’t want me, Chris?”

His eyes fall shut.

“You’re saying you don’t need me, Chris?”

He takes a deep breath, lets it out, and grits out, “Fuck. This.”

He pulls me aside from the camera, his lips finding mine as I take my hands to his hair, finishing where we left off. A soft moan leaves my lips as his dick presses against my thigh.

“Yeah,” he nods. “You did want me.”

I nod desperately back at him. “Really bad.”

“Mmmm,” he hums, kissing my neck. “You can have me right now, you know?”

I have a mental battle with myself while I’m in his arms, and then without thinking clearly I’m pulling him to my bedroom despite the voice in my head shouting for me to leave this alone.

I need relief, and he is exactly the painkiller I want.

He follows me blindly, refusing to detach his hands from my skin. I can’t get enough of him. He’s grabbing my ass, feeling my everywhere, teasing his leg in between mine. His thigh presses against my core, earning a gasp from me as I sit on the edge of the bed.

“Poor baby,” he pouts, pushing me back onto the mattress.

I lift my arms for him, giving him access to the underside of my shirt, lifting it off with ease. My hands find the desperation he is trying to satisfy, a pleased groan leaving his throat at my touch.

“Looks like someone was struggling too, huh?” I notice. My hand makes soft movements over his length, stopping when his hand juts out and grabs it.

He lowers his gaze to meet mine, our faces now level as I sit on the bed and he kneels in front of it.

“I’ve fantasized about you touching me and sucking me off, but I haven’t gotten a clear idea of what you look like with your ass up, or what your pussy feels like around me. So you wanna show me what it’s like?”

I’m ready to do anything he wants no matter how eager it makes me look.

Yet I can’t find the words that convey this.

I nod again. His hand grips my jaw as he pushes his mouth back to mine, shoving my body back onto the mattress in the process. He pins me down, grinding his hips into mine and teasing me with his cock before huffing out a breath and flipping me over. He lifts me by my hips, keeping my ass in the air for him.

“You gonna be able to take me with no foreplay? Nothing but my dick fucking you senseless, baby?” he whispers, pushing my shirt up – his shirt – and kissing down my back in between words.

“Yes, Chris,” I give in.

He tsks. “Don’t say my name. You know what you want to say. It’s on the tip of your tongue.”

Is he serious?

Because if he is… fuck this business relationship. I’ll need him in my bed every night.

I must have taken too long to respond. His palm smacks against my ass, demanding a response.

I wince. “Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl,” he says softly as he rubs his fingers where I was just spanked, soothing the pain.

He kisses over the spot as he pulls my thong to the side. He then dips his head between my legs from behind, licking a harsh stripe on my folds. He hums in pleasure.

“Fuck, you taste so good.” His finger rubs over that same spot. “Gonna have to taste you after I fill you up and see how good we taste together.”

Without realizing, I back my ass up to him, so much so that he smacks my ass again.

“Needy girls get nothing,” he warns, and I find myself apologizing profusely.

There is no way this kid five years younger than me is having this much control. There’s no way I put myself in this position.

The tip of his dick teases at my slit, swiping it a few times before pushing in and pulling right back out. “So tight.” He does the same motion a few more times before shoving in completely, moaning loudly as he lays his chest on my back, tucking his head in my neck. His lips suck on the spot that has me gripping my sheets as he fills me up. His hips start thrusting into me, his hips railing into my ass as he fucks me mercilessly. The sound is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. Me dripping wet while he fucks himself deeper. His skin slapping against mine while my bed shakes, trying to hold us.

“Taking it so good baby,” he mumbles in my ear. He slaps my ass again, keeping his mouth close to my ear so he can talk me through it. “You like it rough, huh? Don’t you, you fucking slut?”

I whine at the name. “Uh huh.”

His fingers dig into my sides as he drills himself as deep as he can.

“FUCK– Yes, daddy,” I correct myself. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re so bad, baby,” he shakes his head in my neck. “Bratty as hell.”

I lower myself to my elbows, now unable to keep myself propped up the way he wanted me originally. He brings himself back up to his knees, fucking me at this new position. He speeds up, smacking my ass every so often, enough to where I can feel heat radiating off of it from the friction of his hand on my skin.

He continues to mock and degrade me, talking me through everything before his hips start thrusting erratically.

My hand reaches behind me, clinging to his wrist as I look at him over my shoulder. The nerves building inside of me are struggling to hold on. I feel like I’m going to break. “Daddy, I’m-”

His eyes go wide as my mouth drops. Watching my face as I cum, Chris’ hips still, his dick deep inside of me as my pussy grips him. His lips part, eliciting a loud whine. I cum around him, and it’s only a moment later that I can feel him filling me up.

I lower my face to a pillow, trying to regain my breath and any strength left in me. Chris pulls out after a few seconds, fulfilling his promise and cleaning up our mess between my legs. I let out a few weak moans, too wiped to make much noise.

He lays next to me, sweat on his forehead causing a few hairs by his ears to stick out straight, losing the natural curl in them and replacing them with a spiky style.

“So,” he says, his breath lost. “Business professional from now on?”

tag list: @freshloveforthefit @lacysturniolo @mattitties @floofparker @javalakers @creamoncreamoncream2 @heebiejeebiezz @sturnswrites @runupthathillgirl @gdsvhtwa @666hellokitty420 @runupthathillgirl @oliviasturniolo21 @keira324 @sstvrnioloo @sturnitup @sturnsvoid @theyluv-meee @therewilljustbereputationts13 @ilovedasturniolos @dancemomsfanee @rootbeerworshiper @sturn3ol0 @swaggygirlboss123 @lustfulslxt

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo #sturniolo smut

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misted-dream · 5 months

Text

🏎️ catch my drift ⋆ ๋࣭ ⭑ racer rival!mark x fem!reader

content | rivals to lovers, racing!au, slight slow burn, smut, plot centred fic, mentions of passed loved ones, some fluff

warnings | unprotected sex, head, praise(?), alcohol consumption, profanity, allusion to drugging

word count | 14k (2k of just pure smut)

synopsis | it's been a few years since you've started street racing. slowly, but surely you've been climbing the ranks and now, you're considered one of the best on the scene. however, the emergence of a totally new face sparks... interesting discussions. how could it be that no one's ever seen him before, and yet, some might argue he's on par with your level. with the end of the year race coming, you've got a lot more to prove this time round with a new enemy hot on your wheels.

author's note | i know absolutely nothing about cars but i always found the appeal of being a racer so 😟😟 anyways!! this is def on the longer side but for my first one, i decided to be a little self-indulgent. hope you give it a read!

night lights blur into a singular entity as you speed through streets, intersections, and shortcuts. the body of your hair whipped up by the wind—you know you should be wearing a helmet, you know it full well, but you rushed out of the door tonight and simply forgot. your fingers grip onto the handles of your motorcycle even tighter as your bike accelerates even more. the stinging as wind enters your eyes is becoming nearly impossible to ignore, but you persist, knowing there's only a little bit left to go.

extending your fingers to the brake, you slowly begin to come to a halt in front of a bright white sign, flashing: open 24 hours! sat on the curb below the sign was haechan. he doesn't even wince at your abrupt appearance, no flinching at how close you stopped next to him. "took you long enough," he utters without looking up from his phone.

"that took me 7 minutes—10 at worst," you shoot back.

he gives an overtly exaggerated sigh before mumbling, "whatever," but made sure it was loud enough so you can hear. shoving his phone in his pocket, he springs to his feet, "ramen?"

after pushing your bike into the somewhat hidden employees' parking slots and resting it against the wall, you follow haechan into the convenience store.

soon enough, the two of you come out with instant ramen bowls that are hot to the touch. haechan sits back down on his spot on the curb, being careful not to spill any of the hot water onto himself and you do the same.

"so," haechan says in a tone that almost mimics an announcement. "how are you feeling?"

while in the midst of setting your bowl down next to you, a breath escapes you, nearing on the edge of a scoff. "great. thanks for asking," you put your chopsticks over the top of the foil lid of the bowl.

"really?" though you're not looking directly at him, you can picture haechan's eyebrows shooting up as he says that.

you lift your head to make direct contact with haechan's gaze. "why would i lie?"

haechan doesn't shy away from your stare, in fact, he seems to study your expression for any sign of disjointedness. after a beat or two, he resumes, "people can get nervous, you know," he breaks away from looking at you to pick up his bowl of ramen, "like most of the population does. you don't have to hide it," one of his shoulders rises as if to imitate a shrug.

using the palm of your hand, you push on his arm slightly swaying him away from you. "asshole," you mutter, evoking a muffled chuckle from haechan.

you go to take the chopsticks off of the lid and uncover the bowl; steam rises, hitting your face.

"i'm kidding," haechan chews, and then swallows impassively. "i know you have nothing to be nervous about."

"hopefully, not."

"did i suddenly shake you up or something? you sounded confident enough a minute ago."

you use your chopsticks to give your ramen a stir before bringing it up to your mouth and carefully blowing on it. "no," you say before stuffing a mouthful of noodles into your cheeks. "but who knows what will happen? like, last year, those freak accidents?"

haechan seems to give what you said a careful thought. "i think we all know they weren't just 'accidents,'" he pauses at his last word. "people always take the closing race so seriously--"

"yeah, and you know why," you jump in, one side of your mouth still full.

haechan rolls his eyes. "yeah, yeah, prize money—all that. but, they act like it's worth sabotaging other people for it."

you sit with his words for a minute. they ring a certain truth to it, but to some extent, you can also understand the motive behind the so-called "sabotage" that haechan was talking about. you were sure that you would never stoop so low—but again, you've never been put into a position where you had to cross that line.

the two of you continue wolfing down your midnight snack in prolonged silence.

"renjun asked about you the other day."

and with that simple sentence, it catches you off guard. you try your best to stifle a cough by sipping on some of the ramen broth—salty to the point that it reminds you why you shouldn't have done that. "what did he say?" despite sparing no effort to sound unaffected at the sound of his name, a waver in your voice can be heard if you paid close enough attention.

haechan finishes the remaining broth in his bowl before giving you an answer. "you know, the same old." an answer that's barely an answer.

you're unsure whether you should prod to find out more, or if you should just leave the topic here. you know what you would find out if you asked, anyway, so even though your lips opened up to respond, nothing came out of you.

"he's worried about you."

the word strikes a familiar chord within you. worry. as expected, it's nothing you didn't already know; he's always been worried.

"i'm not telling you this to try and change your mind about anything; i know you well enough to know you won't," haechan continues, "but maybe just talk to him."

"and say what?" instead of sounding defensive, your tone instead comes across as helpless, and haechan simply shrugs. "we're never going to see eye to eye on this. he wants me to stop racing. if i do now, what was it all for? if i don't win now, then everything i've done, i've done for nothing."

haechan inhales a deep breath. he lifts up his hand and lands two pats on your knee. "then, tell him that," he adjusts his body so he can get up on his feet, "the both of you are stubborn, and i don't want to play middleman anymore."

haechan stands towering over you still sat on the curb, his shadow casted over the entirety of your body. he extends a hand toward you, a sheepish grin overtaking his face and you know what he's about to ask you: "be a gentleman and give me a ride home?"

you take his hand, pulling yourself up from the ground. making sure the annoyance is visible on your face, you cock your head in the direction of your bike, "sure, i guess."

...

after dropping haechan off at his apartment, you return to yours. the rest of the night seems to pass like a blur. and before you know it, you're in front of your apartment door, trying to forcibly push it open. the door's lock has been jammed for at least a couple of months. telling your landlord would do absolutely nothing and a strong budge is good enough to get it open. so you're in front of your apartment door, putting your all into getting this damn thing to move, and it does after a few attempts.

you drag yourself inside, and once again, having to put your weight into making sure the front door is locked. in all honesty, you would up and leave here any second if you could, but you're barely making the rent on time here, so forget any wishful thinking of finding another place to stay here in the city.

plopping down on your slightly decrepit beanbag, your mind starts jumping back to the closing race. the last race of the year, where the prize is always the most considerable. this year, there's a hundred grand on the line.

maybe, wishful thinking isn't so bad, after all.

you push harder and harder onto the pedal until your toes curl. in your sight, there is nothing but the finish line. in this instance, the finish line being where haechan stood with a stopwatch in his hand. your back tyres leave skid mark after skid mark on the concrete of the desolate parking lot. you speed past where haechan stood, so fast to the point where he didn't even register in your peripheral. and you come to a stop, turning so that your vehicle is now horizontal in relation to the track. kicking open the driver's door, you step out, almost with a kick in your step. there's certainty in your head that this had to be your best time.

"how was that?" you shouted over to haechan, who was now stalking over to where you had stopped.

he waited until he had reached within an arm's distance from you to speak, "not bad—1:27.03"

you exhale a deep breath, puffing out your cheeks. "1:27's better than 1:29," you had bested your own personal record. haechan holds his hand up and you meet his gesture with your own. he gives your hand a firm shake up in the air, "good job," a slight, but sincere smile appearing on his lips.

a sudden vroom catches both of your attentions from a distance. you turn your head to the entrance of the parking lot. a black blob, somewhat resembling the shape of a motorcycle, swiftly darts from one side of your vision to the other from behind the wire fence that surrounds the lot. "who's that?" you mutter.

you've never seen anyone here before. you thought that this lot was just a deserted junkyard that happened to be of good use to you, and no other racer bothered to drive out here, and to what? to practice? they simply roamed and tyrannised the streets for that.

then again, the same shadowy figure blitz past the entrance gate, but this time in the opposite direction. "they're leaving?" haechan voices, watching the figure as attentively as you.

that's weird, you thought, who just drives into a dead end and then turns around to leave immediately?

"huh," haechan pokes his tongue into his cheek.

as if you've been reminded of something, you hastily drag your phone out of your back pocket to check the time. "shit," you mutter under your breath, "i need to get to my shift." you turn on your heels, taking strides toward your car. leaning over the driver's seat, you dig around in the bag sat in the passenger for your keys. your fingertips quickly rifle through your belongings until you feel something cold and metal. swinging your keys into the palm of your hands, you walk back over to haechan. "she's yours," the pitch of your voice going up near the end of your statement, making it sound more like a question.

"i won't hurt your baby, don't worry," haechan responds to the clear concern in your voice with a teasing smile in his eyes.

you take purposeful steps toward the entrance of the parking lot, your bike parked right next to it. sliding your helmet off of the handle, you flip it over atop your head, each action carried out with an awareness of time. without hesitation, you secure on your helmet, swing one leg over your bike, and switch on your engine. a blare erupts from behind you—haechan is already lined up for the entrance with you being his only obstacle. fighting back the urge to flash up a gesture at him, you reluctantly begin to drive off to your shift.

...

"hey," you greet your coworker, almost out of breath, as you stagger into the convenience store right on time for your shift.

"i thought you weren't gonna show up, again," she comments, clearly impatient. eagerly, she makes her way out in front of the cashier counter.

you mumble a quick apology, and she doesn't respond further. she goes into the employees' lounge to collect her stuff; two minutes later, she's back and she's clocking out without a word.

seeing as there's no one in the store right now, you enter your pin to the employees' only room. there's a small circular desk in the middle of the cramped room with two teal sofa chairs next to it. you set down your bag, your jacket, and your helmet before getting out again.

as you straighten your shirt, you start thinking about the next several boring hours you're obligated to spend in this stuffy shop as you make your way behind the counter. immediately, as if it's muscle memory, your head tilts upwards to the right side of the store where the tv is positioned. on screen, they seem to be showing some celebrity reality show that you've seen once or twice but haven't kept up with. you watch absentmindedly, counting down the hours you have left before you can go home. 8 hours. 8 hours until it's 11pm. 8 hours until closing. whatever made you pick the evening shift over the morning shift, anyway? now that you think about it, 7-3 seems a lot more desirable than 3-11.

as you're lost in your regretting your work decisions, the door bell chimes, snapping you back into consciousness.

a manly figure steps through, dressed in ash grey jeans paired with a brown leather jacket, visibly worn. the figure's face is covered by a jet black helmet, one similar to yours. the figure stops in front of the glass doors, gloved hands reaching up to cast off the helmet. once it's off, the man tucks his helmet into the crook of his left elbow and attempts to adjust his hair in a rather shaggy manner with his other hand.

your eyes dart outside through the glass panes; a black motorcycle.

as the man browses through the aisles lackadaisically, you try to pay him no mind, returning your gaze back to the mediocre reality tv.

he takes several minutes, walking up and down, then down and up again through the display racks, only picking something up once. then, he approaches the counter, helmet still in his arms. he sets down a bottle of water in front of you, "can i have a pack of those?" he gestures behind you, pointing to the cigarette stand. you pick out the brand he's pointing at and scan it through on the register, then repeating the same with his bottle of water.

"that'll be 8.99."

the man sets his helmet down on the edge of the counter, careful not to knock any of the gum packets on display off. his arm reaches behind him and pulls out a worn leather wallet. as he's digging through to find his card, or cash, you don't know for sure, your eyes dart back outside. "that your bike outside?"

he seems to be caught off-guard by your small talk. the man's head snaps to look at you, eyes wide, eyebrows raised, and his lips slightly ajar. "uh- yeah," he returns his attention onto his wallet. now, his fingers look to be struggling to pull a card out.

you nod your head, almost like in approval. "what model is it?" truth be told, you knew what model it was, you even knew the make. but something about the man standing before you made you want to keep talking to him, regardless of if it was small talk.

"tuono 660," basically confirming what you thought you knew, "aprilia."

he hands you his card and you take it in your hands, m. lee embossed along the bottom. you hover over the card reader until a beep sounds out. you return his card wearing a small smile on your expression, "would you like your receipt?" instinctually returning to your customer service tone.

"no... thanks," he replies, followed by a tight-lipped smile. he shoves his wallet back inside his pocket and grabs ahold of both his water and cigarettes in one hand.

"thank you," your much practiced tone and expression still dripping on each word.

the man catches your eyes for a split second, before he turns his head, then his whole body to exit the store.

a sudden eruption of laughter comes from the tv but it fades into the background of your mind. the man is now outside on the curb, pocketing his pack of cigs into his jeans before climbing onto his bike.

"haechan!" you exclaim as you push the door closed behind you. it's surprise visits like this that makes haechan sometimes regret giving you a key to his apartment. "helloo?" you call out again.

you make your way over to the kitchen island when you hear a door click. footsteps begin to shuffle on the wooden floorboards.

"yn," a curt voice speaks out.

the voice sends a sudden jolt through your body. you lift your head to see a pair of brown eyes fixated on you. "renjun," you greet him but the enthusiasm you had a second ago is now nowhere to be heard.

in your head, you debate whether you should ask how he's doing, you know, normal friendly stuff people do. would it be weird? surely not. but before you can reach a consensus in your mind, renjun cuts your thoughts off.

"haechan's in the bathroom."

your lips mimic an 'oh.' perhaps this is the one time that you regret haechan giving you his key. you purse your lips together, an "um," tumbling out of you. and now you're back to debating whether or not you should ask him about his day. seconds tick by, made evident by the clock hung up in the centre of their living room. seconds that feels like hours.

haechan bursts out from the bathroom, curses slipping past his lips. thank god, was the only thought you can form. you don't know how much more of the awkward silence you can take from renjun.

"yn! oh my god," haechan demands your attention from the other man standing right across from the pair of you.

"what?" you blurt out, unsure whether haechan's franticness is genuine, or if he heard the scene that went down before and decided to be a saving grace.

"listen!" his thumbs scroll on his phone at a rate that you're sure he can't be comprehending anything.

after waiting a few seconds for him to follow up on his eagerness and having been met with nothing, you prod a bit, "go on, then. i'm listening."

his thumbs suddenly stop, eyes scanning the lines of text rapidly on his screen. "they're saying some new kid won the league race last night." his words almost slur into one another at the pace which he is speaking with.

"...so?"

haechan must've seen the genuine confusion that's struck your face; he seems stuck in a trance-like state for a moment as he tries to register your hint of nonchalance.

"you don't get it!" he clicks his tongue and his eyes go back to his phone. "he won, by like- a lot. his time was only 3 seconds away from yours."

and that's when you begin to understand the sort of panic seeped into haechan's demeanor. in all honesty, he's acting more panicked than you are, or should be.

"what- who's telling you this?"

"people we know- it doesn't matter! what matters is they're saying he might beat you at closing this year."

you lean over to catch a glimpse of what haechan is intently looking at. your head turns to the back of you to the hallway leading to renjun's room, and he's not there anymore; his door shut as well. you would've said something about renjun to haechan but the both of you are rather preoccupied right now.

"there's no way," you whisper under your breath, more so to relieve your own disbelief than anything. "who is this guy?"

haechan scrolls up in the groupchat thread that he's in, until he lands on a picture sent by someone who you don't recognise. "i don't know," he clicks on the picture, zooming in. it obviously was taken with the subject being unaware of it. "they're saying his name- well, at least his racing name, is drift."

"a little on the nose, don't you think?" you mutter as your eyes study the picture haechan is showing you. the man pictured is in the distance, in the middle of taking his helmet off. dressed in an outfit you've seen before. that same brown leather jacket and the grey jeans that looks black due to the poor resolution. "i've seen him before," you admit to haechan.

his head turns to you as fast as humanly possible, "you have?"

you give him a nonchalant nod of the head, the corners of your mouth dropping down like in understanding.

"why do you not seem even a bit concerned?" haechan questions.

"should i be?" you distance yourself from haechan as you approach their fridge. maybe you should be, but humility has never been a strong virtue of yours.

haechan watches your every action carefully, even as you reach inside of his fridge to grab a cold soda into your hands. "i'm telling you, yn, this guy is good."

the league races sound exactly like the opposite of what they are. they're the smaller street races that take place right before the closing race for people to blow some steam off; kind of... take the pressure off the closing for some. point is, they're unimportant. to you, at least. which is why for as long as you've been racing, you've never attended one, to save some gas for the closing, that's what you've convinced yourself.

your fingernails dig below the tab of the can and a release pops. 'i guess i'll have to see for myself," you swig back a mouthful of sweet, bubbly soda. "when's the next league race?"

boring, boring, boring.

that's how every one of your shifts go. but you don't have a choice. well, you do. either you work, or get evicted, and it's pretty clear to you which one you prefer. the only strand of motivation you're holding onto at this point, is the fact that after you win closing, you can maybe start looking for a better job somewhere else. maybe even move out of that shitty apartment. but that's after the closing, and haechan would like to remind you that that's even if you win.

and as if scripted, the topic of debate between you and your best friend for the past few days steps through the glass doors to the convenience store. you don't know how you recognised him that quickly, you don't know why you recognised him, but you know it's him. once again. m. lee, huh. drift. you still haven't grown fond of his stage name.

today, he's wearing grey, baggy sweatpants, with the same leather jacket you've seen him in on all occasions you've seen him. he's browsing through the aisles again, with a cap obstructing your view of his face. you watch him more carefully this time than before. looking outside, no bike this time.

he walks over to the row of refrigerators situated on the left side of the store and pulls out a can of beer. his actions seemed to be performed with a certain kind of preciseness, meticulousness.

he saunters over to you, stood behind your counter.

you watch as he places the can in front of you, head down, once again, looking for his wallet. it's like you have deja vu. instead of scanning the can through, your fixation on watching his every action overrides your muscle memory.

"so, are you new 'round here?"

he looks at you through his brows, the same deer in headlights expression he wore the first time you've seen him. however, his lips quickly break into a small curve. "you're really fond of small talk, aren't you?"

you don't know what to make of his tone—half teasing, half amused, but his gaze is cold and hard, despite the smile lifting on the corners of his mouth.

"just being friendly," you break eye contact with him, a slight gratefulness twinges within you for your duties as a cashier as you go to scan his can of beer through to the system.

"well, in that case, yes. i am new around here."

you go to meet his gaze again, now with a small, satisfied grin on your own face. as subtle as you can, you scan his outfit, or what you can see of it with the counter in the way. the hems of his leather jacket washed out in colour; a lighter brown as compared to the darker shade on the sleeves. a light discolouration throughout that you can't deem whether as intentional or not. a sudden urge overtakes you.

"do you race?"

his off-guard expression is now back again, "sorry?"

"i saw your bike last time," you try to say casually, "it's modified, isn't it?"

he purses his lips tightly together, eyebrows lifted as if you caught him in a lie. then, his expression softens. "yeah, it is. you know quite a bit about bikes, i assume?"

"just a bit."

a smirk now dragging on his lips, "i'm delighted that you think i'm good enough to race." something about the way he enunciated his sentence made you pause for a split second. "so, how much?" his finger gestures toward the beer on the counter, drops of condensation beginning to pool at the base of it.

it should be here, you think to yourself as you begin to approach a rather quiet part of the city. haechan said it was going to be here. he would've went with you, like he'd said, if renjun—his roommate—wasn't conveniently out of town tonight.

you take a turn onto the main road, and sure enough, there's a crowd of people standing on the pavements on all sides of the intersection a little bit further down. indistinct murmuring begins to fill your ears. the sound of bottles hitting the concrete ground, laughter, music, all of it. as you get closer and closer, a heavy smell of smoke also enters your airways.

you approach the crowd a bit more, but keep your distance—about 6 feet away from the perimeter of the group of people. suddenly, several heads turn in your direction. the scene is unsettling, you've never seen it from this perspective. it's as if they're all being remotely controlled as more and more heads turn. they're not looking at you though but—

without warning, a car speeds past you.

speed is an understatement; it was in your peripheral vision for less than a second before it zooms off down the rest of the main street. right as the car passes you, cheers erupt from the conglomerate of people, all of them following the car's trajectory. a loud voice booms, seemingly out of nowhere.

"and there we have it! newcomer drift takes another one!"

there's a moment of stillness before another car zooms by, one that you recognise. the voice continues without missing a beat, "and revy comes in at second!"

the crowd of people all start to move up the street towards the two cars that have now slowly come to a halt up at the next intersection, their movements reminiscent of a stampede of sorts. giving into curiosity, you follow the crowd but with the same distance you kept as before.

cheer and fanfare can probably be heard from several blocks away. excited screaming strikes your eardrums, and before you can even hope that it quiets down at least a little bit, even more screaming fills the atmosphere. you tilt your head to get a better view at what everyone is cheering at. and sure enough, a familiar silhouette steps out. the man raises a palm as if to wave at the crowd of people who all cheered instantaneously louder for him the second he did so. he walks toward the crowd, and the voice booms once again all over this part of the street. you see a boy, presumably a teenager, approach the man with a mic in one hand and a speaker in the other. the boy drops his microphone as he goes to whisper something in the man's ear. of course, you can't hear anything, but you're also a bit too far to even attempt to read his lips. it's hard to say you're not intrigued by all this commotion. and for what? for the man who you've now decided frequents the convenience store you work at? you need to find out more, we'll call it researching your competition.

you cut your way through the crowd. cars are still zooming past that first intersection, which is now behind you, but no one seems to pay them any mind.

you're behind the first row of people within the crowd and you're just about to come out on the other side when a familiar face peers out from the side, startling you just a tiny bit.

"surprised you turned up," her voice is silky smooth. a too perfect beam tugging on her lips.

"minjeong," you try your best to mirror her smile right back at her. you have no energy for trivial smack talk tonight.

"i always thought you were too good for the leagues... what changed?" her charm is undeniable. the expression on her face still as polite as ever, but you know better than to assume what you can see.

"nothing, just wanted a change of scenery."

before minjeong replies, someone else steps in to join your conversation. "come on, we have to go," they don't seem to be addressing you. you do them the favour of letting yourself fade into the background as your eyes search again for man you've been focused on prior. at that second, the two of you stare directly at each other. you force yourself to look away but you can't, it's like there's a magnetic field surrounding just the two of you. he turns his head away first, refocusing his attention to the teenage boy who is still stood next to him.

"we'll see you around, yn," minjeong waves goodbye to you but instead of rotating her wrist, she flutters her fingers lightly. her words spoke with such careful calculation, and yet her voice as sweet as honey. you eke out a small, courteous smile; no point in calling her out on her bullshit tonight.

as you're watching minjeong and her friend walk off into an alley, someone else is headed towards you. you don't notice until you turn your head and-

"so, we're stalking now?" he stands a little bit taller than you, a glimmer in his eyes as he's staring down at you. this man is an enigma. how could he come off as shy one second back at your work, and here, he's completely charismatic. must be in his element.

the people around you seems to take notice of the pair of you, or maybe just him, but you've grown used to scenes like this; it's not like you've never been to a race before where there's an attractive racer that everyone seems to go weak in the knees for.

"you flatter yourself," you can't hold back the urge to bat your lashes—just once—at him.

"if i didn't know better, i would think so," he drags his words out one by one. his response causes you to wrinkle your brows, not sure what to say to that, which earned a light chuckle out of him. "you think i don't know who you are?" a playfulness ringing in his tone. is he teasing you right now? had he known this whole time?

"how did you-?"

a chorus of voices flare up in the middle of the crowd. you turn on your heels to see people running off in every direction. suddenly, the same teenage boy from before is propped up on others, shouting out, "someone called the cops!"

immediately, you turn back around. you can feel a firm grasp on your wrist pulling you in the direction of the alley that minjeong and her friend walked into earlier. for a second, you're stood still where you are, the panic of everyone else around you freezes you to the spot. then, you hear a "come on!" from the man holding your wrist, and before you know it, you let yourself get hauled away in midst of the chaos into leather jacket man's car.

wordlessly, he starts his engine and speeds off into... you don't know where, yet, but far enough away from where the gathering was. once the two of you are at enough distance away from the race, he starts decelerating, but shows no indication that you will be stopping any time soon. you look over to the driver's seat, his gaze is fixated on the road ahead and you're not sure whether you should make conversation.

you sit in silence for about 5 minutes as you watch out of the window. you can tell that you're getting further and further away from the centre of the city, and in fact, you're nearing the beach that runs along the coast.

it wasn't long until you turn into the parking lot, and finally, come to a stop. he unclicks his seatbelt, provoking you to do the same. he flips the handle on his door and gets out, still without a word. you watch as he zips up his jacket, stuffs his hands into his pockets, and crouch slightly to look at you through his windows. he tilts his head in the direction of the beach which you took as a signal to get out of the car as well.

as soon as you step out onto the tarmac parking lot, a cool evening breeze sweeps right past you. with the wind caught up in your hair, you clasp your hands together to gain some warmth. leather jacket man is already headed for the shoreline, a lax pattern in his steps, making it easy for you to catch up to him.

"congratulations," you break the silence once you're at the side of him. he looks at you, and you continue walking down the beach. "for winning leagues tonight," you follow up.

he stops walking. when you peer back at him, you're met with the same playful expression that was on his face back at the race. "thanks," a glint reflected in his teeth. "sorry about... dragging you back there," he bends at his waist, and then sits down on the soft sand shimmering under the moonlight.

you take a step towards him, and then decide to join him on the ground. your fingers sink into the sand as you're setting yourself down. waves lap over and over at the shoreline, the body of the ocean twinkling under the void of stars up above.

"so you knew, huh?" you grab a handful of sand and delicately let it fall off your fingers.

he extends his legs and leans back on his hands that rested behind his torso. "how could i have not?" an air of confidence interweaved within his voice. you turn your head towards him, and he looks to be biting back a cocky smirk, "gotta know your enemies, right?"

you're not sure which part of his sentence you should address. "know?" what does he know about you? and it didn't register within you that he saw you as an enemy, as a threat before.

"alright, then, since you know so much about me, it's my turn to ask you something." you dust off the sand on your hands and reposition yourself so that your body faces him—your legs criss-crossed with each other.

"shoot."

"what's your name?"

he gives you a suspicious look; a slight tug at his lips and furrowed brows. he pushes himself off one hand to lean in closer towards you, "well, did you not hear the announcer? i think he said my name pretty loud and clear when i passed that finish line."

you roll your eyes, seriously considering the idea of shoving sand down his throat so he could stop with his mockery. "do you know mine?"

without missing a beat, he replies, "yn."

"so what's yours?"

he looks straight at you, a face full of careful consideration, before he gives in. "mark," a smile plastered on his face that you can't describe as other than 'dorky.'

you repeat his name under your breath, attention now back to the sand between the two of you.

a brief minute passes by as you two listen to the ocean's waves rippling quietly.

"i'm guessing it was you that day at the junkyard?" mark asks.

and so the puzzle completes itself in your mind, "you say that like i'm invading in on your space." a sudden gust of wind blows past you, sending a chill down your spine.

"it was my uncle's," mark hangs his head back, directing his gaze at the stars. "i'd recently just moved back so i didn't know it'd be empty. or that you'd be there." you watch mark watch the stars.

"what happened to it being your uncle's?"

mark's adam's apple dips as he gulps down a swallow. "he'd passed, not too long ago."

"oh..." you return to fidgeting with the sand under your fingertips, "i'm sorry for your loss."

"it happens," mark exhales a deep breath. you feel there's a change in conversation coming with the way he's readjusting his shirt, pulling down on its hem poking out from underneath his jacket. "anyway. you down to help me practice tomorrow?"

your eyebrows shoot up, not just at the sudden change in topic, but at his request, "help? you practice?" it's almost laughable.

"i mean, yeah," he shrugs, "the enemy of your enemy is a friend, right? we have plenty of shared enemies."

as promised, you show up the next day up at the parking lot that you're pretty sure you would've went to anyway regardless of if mark asked you to or not. after all, closing's in a week and you need to get whatever amount of practice in that you can.

sure enough, mark is already there. you park your car right at the entrance gate and you step out to see him controlling his vehicle expertly. at every turn, he steers sideways with a precision that's unrivalled to anything you've ever seen in person. his front wheels pointed in the opposite direction of his turn as the back tyres glide on the cement as if it was ice—a screech can heard as a result.

he begins to pick up his pace again and drive in your direction, his focus seemingly entirely on the front of your car. he wouldn't. it's not that you trust him, but he wouldn't put himself in a danger like that, would he?

and before he reaches the point where it'd be too late for him to swerve, he carries out another one of his perfectly controlled, drifted turns, stopping with his driver's side window facing right at you. you stand unflinching and notice that his window is rolled all the way down.

"flashy," you voice, "going for style points, are we?"

he juts his head out of his window. cheekily, he suggests, "you down for a race?"

not being one to back down, you agree. mark points to a spot in the middle of the parking lot and you get back into your car to follow him. you pull up right next to where mark is, rolling down your passenger's window so you can communicate with him. "how does a lap sound?"

"sounds good to me," mark smirks back at you.

you turn your head to face the vastness of the empty lot in front of you. mark counts down out loud from 3. you press down on the gas pedal, revving your engine. 2. your hand reaches for the gear stick. and 1. both of you shoot off into the distance, and unexpectedly, you're neck in neck with him. you push on harder on the pedal, gaining you a little bit of ground, which mark makes up for without hesitation.

the remainder of this little mock race carries on like this. you earn the lead for 2 seconds, then mark takes it back. then you're in the lead again, and... not anymore. as you're close to finishing your lap, you can tell you're just the tiniest bit behind mark. so, in a last ditch effort, you step on your pedal to the fullest, as hard as you can, allowing you to surpass him the most you have so far, and just as you're about to pass the finishing point again, you can see mark catching up to you. and like that, both of you have crossed into the second lap. it's impossible to tell which one of you took the lead at the end with just the naked eye.

mark's car comes to a slow.

you'd be lying to yourself if you said there wasn't even the slightest hint of frustration within you. no one has ever been that close to you before. sure, when you were just starting out. but not now. not when you've earned yourself the title of being known as the best in this city. needless to say, you're pissed. but not at mark.

you throw your head back onto the headrest, sighing a deep sigh.

mark makes his way around to your side of the vehicle. he rests one hand on the roof of your car and the other on his hip. "was that a just practice for you, or...?" a light pant in his voice.

"don't get cocky now." you gesture for him to back up. flinging open your door, you step out, pulling on the muscles of your traps as you stretch your neck.

he takes a single step closer to you. now he's standing a little too close for comfort, close enough that you can smell the woody notes of his cologne. "that take a lot out of you?"

"you got lucky, that's all." his gaze on you is unwavering, only moving away from your eyes to study the other parts of your face.

"i did, didn't i?" you catch his eyes flicker between yours and your lips.

an unsettling feeling sparks in the pit of your stomach. slowly, mark brings his hand up to your face. with his index finger, he traces from the back of your jawline to your chin. at the slight of his touch, you can feel a shiver running down you.

you can feel his warmth emanating off of him. bit by bit, he closes the gaping distance between the two of you. mark places his thumb on the other side of your jaw, gently guiding your face towards his.

but, something in you tells you to stop. stop whatever he's doing, stop yourself from giving into whatever he's doing.

you place a hand on his chest, met with the cold, harsh leather of his jacket. you drop your head, so that you're not facing him directly.

"i think..." at your words, mark releases the gentle hold he had on you and shuffles a step or two away from you. he clears his throat.

"i'm..." mark shuts his eyelids for a moment, "i'm sorry," his hands seem to begin to gesture something before he puts them in his pockets.

"no, no," you feel a slight shake of your head. a sudden train of thoughts rush through your mind. "i think i should go."

mark seems to mutter a small "yeah," as he backs away from your car.

...

"haechan, open your damn door right now," you call out as you're knocking so hard on haechan's bedroom door that it's sure to give out after another minute.

"i'm coming! i'm coming," you hear his voice from the other side. "god, you don't have to come breaking down my apartment every time; phones exist for a reason, y'know?" the handle twists and his door swings open.

your heart is practically pounding out of your chest. you had so much to tell him that you don't even know where to start. haechan stare at you blankly, "so, speak."

"mark! mark fucking lee-"

"sorry- is this someone that i'm supposed to know?"

you're pacing up and down the hallway of haechan's apartment, "yes! you do know him, it's that guy! that drift guy from the leagues."

"you're on first name basis with him?" he questions with a grin on his face that you know too well.

"it's not like that!" you take a pause in pacing, "i don't know, maybe it's like that- i just- ugh!"

haechan exhales and steps out of his doorway. he closes his door behind him, and begins to shuffle you towards the kitchen. "slow down, take a seat," he points at the kitchen stool, "you want a drink?"

"what- no, just listen!"

"i am, i am," haechan proclaims as he goes to grab a glass bottle of beer in the middle of the island as he sits on the stool facing you. "go on, then."

you tell him that you met mark—drift—back at the league race that he was supposed to go to with you the other night. then, about how mark took to you the beachside for whatever reason afterwards. then, today, you were racing him and he was about to kiss you? now that you're regurgitating all this information, you couldn't even wrap your head around it.

"but he was good, haechan, you were right."

"you should say that more often," haechan takes a sip of his beer.

"bro, if he beats me at closing..." your shoulders deflate at the thought. you hadn't even considered this possibility of losing until mark showed up out of nowhere.

haechan forcefully sets his bottle down on the hard counter. "you're tweaking. like, actually," a chuckle comes out with his words. what he's saying doesn't seem to be resonating with you, so he tries to go another approach, "look, listen, i know i was worried before but, i know your skillset, yn. there's no way some guy can just come in and beat you."

you try to convince yourself into believing what haechan is telling you, but rationally, you know that today's race proved to be way too close. "no, but, that kiss as well- that almost kiss. what am i supposed to make of that?"

haechan leans his elbows onto his knees. "isn't it obvious? he's distracting his competition," he goes to wrap his fingers around the base of the bottle, "and look at you; it's working, isn't it?"

you sigh. you hated how logical haechan's reasoning for it was. surely, that was it, it's stupid to think it was anything more, right?

"so, what do i do?"

haechan takes you in for a second. a devious smirk begins to appear on his face. you know that whatever he's about to say, you won't like it.

"you show him..." he points the neck of the beer bottle at you, "...that two can play that game."

you sit in silence staring at haechan for a moment—he looks like he expected to be applauded for such a genius idea. "okay... and how the hell do i do that?"

"revy's party, tomorrow night. we're going."

you step through into a dimly lit kitchen, it's floor sticky with who knows what. it's been less than 24 hours since haechan suggested the two of you attend a party thrown by another one of your racing rivals. less than 24 hours since you've gone back on your word, claiming to yourself that you will never attend a party like this. and the reasoning is right in front of your eyes: a cramped room filled with people you don't know, music so loud that it penetrates inside of your skull making your brain physically vibrate, and not to mention the lack of actual food? there's no way you can survive on cheap liquor and cheese puffs all night. and thinking about tomorrow makes it all the worse.

and that's why when haechan first proposed this idea to you, you were dead set on denying it. "no," you'd said, "absolutely not." his genius idea turned out to be voluntarily putting yourself in uncomfortable social situations? added with the fact that it's the night before closing?

"what other option do you have?" haechan had asked.

and you supposed he was right. you had no other choice. you had tonight, and only tonight, to really play your cards right.

so, that's why you're here, in the kitchen of someone's house—whose, you didn't know. haechan steps through with you right at your side. you're scanning through the heaps of people, some drinking, some making out, some straight up dry humping on each other. truly a stereotypical scene that looks as though it came straight out of a coming of age movie.

and you spot him. just like haechan had said, he's here.

mark stands all the way across the kitchen, preoccupied talking to a girl. you haven't seen her before, and you certainly haven't seen the pair of them together before. cups in both of their hands, they seem to be chatting, enjoying each other's company, and you turn the plan you had come up with together with haechan over in your head.

finding yourself stuck in a rut—luckily one that's shallow enough—you tap haechan on his arm, then gesture toward the beverage table. the both of you approach it but neither giving in to the giant bowl of red punch in the centre of it. the kitchen floor was sticky, the air is sticky, you don't want to think about the implications of what could be in this bowl. you reach out to grab a can of beer, and haechan follows. "i spotted him," you tell haechan, not necessarily speaking carefully because if you did, he wouldn't hear you over the booming of the house music that's being played.

"yeah?" he takes a swig of his room-temperature beer. "you know what to do then?" he lifts a brow at you, and when you respond with an expression that told him 'yes' no matter how hesitantly, he snapped you a quick wink, and did a 180 heading for another cramped room in the house.

for the next several minutes, you're stood by the bar, back facing the rest of the party downing gulps after gulps of canned beer. you don't feel it doing much aside from warming you up a little bit. you're about to reach for a second one, when a figure steps into your peripheral.

you try to discreetly figure out who the person is standing next to you, but the moment you caught a glimpse of his face, you knew.

mark wanted to break the ice by saying something witty, but... was that appropriate after your last encounter?

"you're a... big fan of the beer, i'm guessing?" he remarks as he's observing your hands; one holding an empty can, and the other reaching out for a new can.

"it's not as bad as i thought," you respond curtly.

as you're pulling back the tab on the new can, you think to yourself. if you want to make this plan work, you've got to kill the awkward tension. and so, your mind jumps to the only topic you can think of.

"who's that girl you were talking to?"

mark seems to be surprised; were you asking him? after a brief moment of silence, a recognition slips out of him, "oh," he shrugs, "she was just saying how she always wanted to race and, stuff like that." he seemed to have caught himself rambling, and stopped before he went on any further.

"sounds like she was hitting on you," you shoot a quick look in his direction as you take a small chug from your can.

he gently shakes his head, eyes fixed on the bottle clasped between his hands, "no, she was just being friendly."

"mh," you're watching mark now. "so, not another one of your conquests?"

mark truly looks puzzled, if he's not, then he's doing great acting like he is with that expression on his face. you can practically read his internal monologue at this very second: what are you talking about?

"i'm not... picking up on what you're saying, exactly."

you have to turn this around somehow. but how? in your mind, this is already botched. go home, you ruined it.

"i just..." you set down your can on the table in front of you. one thing that obnoxiously loud house music is good for is filling in the spaces of silence as you think about what to say next to him. "i guess, i'm just thinking about the other day."

at this moment, you piqued mark's interest. he looks at you with a glint in his eyes. "about that," he turns his body to face you, "look, i'm so sorry- i didn't mean to misread the situation and-"

"you didn't."

mark's lips are still left slightly parted, frozen from his last words. confusion strikes him again.

"i'm sorry- you didn't," for whatever reason, you can't look into his eyes, but you continue anyway, "just in that moment, it was so..."

the bass had been booming since the moment you stepped foot into this house but right at that second, it blared even louder—you didn't even know that that was possible. you can physically feel your heart in your chest jumping each time it thundered.

mark wears an agitated expression from this sudden change in atmosphere, and now, you practically had to yell out to even hear another person standing a foot away from you.

he gestured toward the window outside, mouthed something along the lines of, "wanna head out?" and you followed. mark grabs ahold of your hand, leading you through the horde of sweaty, sticky people until he finally pulls you outside. though, you're not completely free from the roaring bass, you can at least rest your ear drums for a bit.

mark exhales, air puffing up his cheeks. "you were saying?" he turns his gaze towards you, and it strikes you as the perfect time now.

your features twist in a manner of disarray—"i think i have a headache from that whole... situation." you press the inner wrist of your right hand up against your temple.

mark takes one step closer towards you, "are you alright?" he tilts his head to get a better look of your expression.

"yeah, i think i just need to get somewhere quiet," you wave the concern in his voice away.

"do you want me to take you home?"

for a second, you would've agreed, but then you thought back, and you don't think your apartment's in any state to be seen right now.

you give a brief shake of your head, wrist still pinned to your temple. "no, not right now," you say, hoping that he wouldn't ask for an elaboration.

"um, i can take you to my place if you don't mind?"

not wanting to give away too much of your act, you agree hesitantly. "is that alright with you?"

"yeah, of course," and he leads you to his car.

he'd insisted on you waiting out where you were so that you didn't have to walk all the way to his car, but he also didn't feel right about making you wait on your own, so he guided you to where he'd parked, each of his steps designed to match your pace.

...

the ride to his place was quiet, but not uncomfortable. it was a quick drive, but even so every now and then he would look over to make sure you're not too out of it.

he unlocked the door to his apartment, and it was beautiful to say the least; much more kempt than yours. it was mainly one big room with the bathroom tucked away somewhere in the corner. floor to ceiling windows lined the walls facing the entrance door and his bed laid in the centre of the room, facing the windows with a view of the cityscape.

you drag your feet inside, trying to hide at least some bit of your awe.

mark's voice snaps you out of it a little, "do you want some water? anything?"

"i don't mean to have you take care of me," you look back at mark, a tiny spark of guilt igniting within you.

"it's just water, yn," he chuckles as he goes to grab a glass off of his drying rack and pours you some water. "if you want you can rest a bit in my bed."

you're not sure what it is, but it's like you're seeing another version of mark; another side to him. his generosity takes you by surprise and as you take the glass from his hands, wanting to extinguish that guilt, drinking from it only makes the flame grow stronger.

you're stood by the counter, him being only a few steps away from you. the kitchen lights are off, the entirely of his apartment dimly lit with ambience lighting being the only sources of light.

you watch mark's face. the parts of it that are in light, and the other parts that are in shadow. his lips are illuminated by the light along with the right side of his face. maybe the alcohol has gotten to you, or maybe it's your raw, unfiltered desire, but you reach out with the back of your fingers and gently caress the sunken plane under his cheekbone. he seems to melt at even a trace of your touch. he takes ahold of your hand with his, and brings it down.

you take half a step closer towards him, eyes lingering on his.

"what are you doing?" he whispers breathily, eyelids fluttering.

you lean in the slightest bit closer, eyes focused on mark's lips and that was all the invitation mark needed to press his lips onto yours.

he's slow, and gentle. he takes your lips into his with a softness you hadn't expected. one hand goes to cup your face and the other wraps around your waist, pulling you closer into him. he savours every second that your lips are on his, and every time they part, he would go in deeper so as to not forget the taste of your lips on his tongue.

he kisses you with a deep, deep hunger. his hands, too. they roam every inch of your back, pulling you into him as close as you possibly can be until your chests are pressed against each other. you go to wrap your arms tightly around his neck, fingers tangled in his hair, and it's still not enough. you need to breathe him in as if he is the very oxygen that your life depended on.

he pulls away with a smack from your lips. panting heavily, he begins to breathe out, "do you-?"

"yes." whatever he would've said, you knew you wouldn't have denied him.

"are you sure you want this?" he asks again, still breathing heavily with his chest rising and falling against yours.

you give a quick nod of your head, "just kiss me again."

and so he does. mark devours your lips with a newfound lustfulness; pressing onto your lips a little bit harder than before, even biting down on your bottom lip, eliciting a curse out of you.

his hands slide all the way down to your thighs, and he grips tightly onto them as he lifts you up to around his hips. you wrap your legs around him, without breaking away from your kiss. you can feel the two of you moving, but your eyes remain shut.

mark once again pulls back from you, eyes looking right through you with a need to devour. he drops you onto his bed but his hands stays on you. one of them runs up... and then down the underside of your thigh. you're leering at him, desperate for him to touch you more, explore you more, and he can tell.

he kneels down, hands still gripping onto your thighs, and he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. he pushes your legs open, making space for himself in between your thighs. "take this off for me, baby," he utters quickly, impatiently, as he taps on your upper thigh, veiled by the thin fabric of your skirt.

you respond not with words, but with the speed of which the skirt is stripped off of you—eager to please, eager to be pleased.

his fingertips settle into a crook on either sides of your upper thigh as he's pulling you closer to him. you can feel his breath sticking to your skin. every second that he's not touching you, you're aching. the tip of his tongue glides over your panties and you shudder at his movements. you're growing more and more impatient with his obvious teasing as the desire within you becomes harder and harder to fulfil. "fuck, mark," you curse him for purposefully not removing the barrier standing in between you and pleasure. you hear him chuckle, and a word from you is enough to get him to oblige, for now. he pushes the fabric of your panties to the side, baring your slit on full display for him.

"god," he breathes out, and you can feel his breath fan out on your pussy. and in a second, his tongue is licking circle after circle over your clit, exploring between your every fold. he's losing himself in eating you out. he can't help but groan against every buck of your hip, and every time, it sends vibrations that seep into your skin. "you taste so fucking good," he mumbles out. in between the insatiable movements of his tongue against your cunt, he would plant soft kisses onto your folds—the contrast of it all driving you absolutely crazy.

a mixture of his drool and you is running down his chin, but that's nowhere near enough to stop him. the thought of having you dripping down him turns him on even more. your hands are grabbing at fistfuls of mark's hair. with a single swirl of his tongue, you suddenly jerk too hard and he moans against the fiery sensation pulling on his scalp. you try to fight against the urge to push him deeper into you, both of your arms and legs shaking at this point.

as you begin to feel a clench in your stomach, mark uses his hand to separate your legs that are threatening to close together, "keep your legs open for me, baby." you try and try, but you can't help the pressure that's building between your thighs. you bite down on your lip, trying not to let mark hear any of the embarrassing moans and cries you would want nothing but to let out. and just as you're so close to your orgasm, mark takes his tongue off of you.

he stands up again, using the back of his hand to wipe his chin.

"what the fuck-?" you bite out. a bit dazed, but you know enough that that wasn't the release you wanted.

mark coos at you with feigned sympathy, "aw, poor baby." he plants one palm onto the mattress as he leans in, hovering over you. "don't you want to taste yourself on my lips?"

you pull yourself out of your haze, latching your lips onto his. his thumb drags along your jawline. mark hums against your kiss, "you turn me on so goddamn much." he climbs over you, his entire body hovering over yours, and your hands grip at his waist before flipping him under you. he looks surprised, a delighted smirk drips on his mouth. "you had that in you the whole time?"

you reply brusquely, "lose the shirt already," not up for any more teasing tonight.

"bossy," he utters, but complies without hesitation.

you place your hands directly on top of the waistline of his jeans, positioning yourself so that you're sat directly on top of the bulge in his pants. a tiny moan escapes you. mark watches you with a satisfaction glistening in his eyes, "can you feel how hard i am for you?"

you would grind down on his bulge until you gave yourself the release that he owed you if it weren't for the roughness of his jeans. frustrated, you moved yourself further down his lap and impatiently worked the zipper on his pants, pulling them down until his hard cock sprung up hot and red. you ignore the watering in your mouth at the sight of his dick, too eager to feel it inside you.

you wrap your fingers around his cock along the base of it, giving it a tiny squeeze before you slide your hand up his shaft. mark watches with a furrow in his brow and grumblings stuck in his throat. he doesn't want to take his eyes off of you for even one second. you give his cock a few more strokes, so, so painfully slow, though. then, using just your middle and ring finger, you run it up on the side of his dick, reaching the tip, and you drag small little circles over on top of it—spreading his precum all over. mark breathes out a repeated string of curse words as you begin to apply more pressure to his head.

holding back a sly smirk, you take your hand away from mark. you get up on your knees, still straddling him, and you extend your hand out in front of mark's face. "spit on it."

he follows your words without even having the chance to think about challenging you. he is so, so eager to please you. you bring your hand with his spit up to your own chest and you do the same. you smear the two of you all over his cock, applying more pressure with each stroke now than before. his hands goes to grip tightly on your hips, fingertips already digging into your flesh.

you position yourself so that you're hovering directly over mark's big, hard cock, twitching under you. reaching under you, you can feel the tip of his erection resting against your cunt. you drag your hips in a back and forth motion, sliding his head up and down your slit. mark throws his head back, groaning and whining, "fuck, baby- please." you have to admit, the sight of him absolutely unravelling under you is the sexiest fucking thing you've ever seen. "please, please, please," he blurts out a few more pleads..

"what do you want me to do, huh?"

"please, just ride me," he mumbles, words just tumbling out of his mouth at this point. and who are you to deny such a polite request?

you sink down on mark's cock, with each inch you can feel your core beginning to shake. the two of you moaned and groaned with a shared pleasure. a gasp whacks itself out of you as you fully sit down on his cock, taking every inch of him.

mark bites down on his lip, pleasure overriding him, "look at that." he throws his head back, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth, "you're taking all of me." his hand palming over your ass in a way that you can tell he wants to just pick you up and bounce you on his cock.

you start moving your hips gently, still letting yourself adjust to his size. with every whimper that you let out, mark goes absolutely crazy—he wanted to hear you, he wanted that so badly.

and deciding that he needed more, his hands goes to lift your hips up from him and he pins you back down underneath him. his erection now rested atop your thigh, dragging over your skin as he goes to whisper in your ear, "you tell me if it's too much, okay?" you nod, eyes lingering on each other.

he looks downwards, aligning himself with your entrance. he doesn't waste any more time and-

"fuck!"

you cry out, with the first thrust of his hips into you. mark stops and watches your expression for a second before he rams his hips into you again.

he picks up the pace, hips smacking into yours at a steady rhythm. the sloppiness of the two of you filled the room with the melodies of your moans.

"shit, baby," disjointed thoughts fell out of his mouth one after another, moans peppered throughout. as he thrusted himself in and out of you, all he could do was whisper next to your ear how good you felt.

as he kept on thrusting into you, it wasn't long before you can feel that pressure building up again. "fuck, i'm so close," you pant out breathily to mark.

"yeah?"

he pounds into you even harder and harder, making you want to scream out his name but you fight against it.

"don't hold back, baby," he grunted, "i want you to get fucking loud for me."

however embarrassing the noises you made were, you didn't care anymore. you just wanted to feel good with mark's cock dragging in and out of you and you wanted him to know how fucking good it felt. you moan out, alternating between 'fuck,' his name, and pure cries of ecstasy. you slither your hand down in between you two, rubbing violent circles on your clit just so you can reach that orgasm you so badly wanted faster.

you can feel your core tightening around mark. you try to tell him but your mind is gone, only leaving behind unintelligible moans.

"you gonna cum for me?" mark teased, his hips still ramming into you at the same pace, "come on, then. cum on my cock, baby."

even at the slight of his request, you begin to fall apart. your muscles tensing up, fingertips digging into his back and your head thrown back as you reach your orgasm. you scream out in pleasure.

"that's it, baby- good girl," mark's hips are still thrusting into yours, though at a slower pace, fucking you through your orgasm. "god," he looks down to see you clenching around him so tightly that it propels him into his own orgasm. "oh, fuck- i'm gonna cum-"

and just as he does, he pulls himself out of you as he shoots his load all over your stomach. still coming down from the high of your own orgasm, you feel an aching void now in between your legs. mark grunts and collapses his head into the crook of your neck, trying to steady his breath as he milks all the cum out of him onto you.

the air is sticky between you two, heavy breathing filling the silence. mark flops onto his bed next to you, one hand covering his forehead.

"are you okay?" he looks over at you.

"yeah," you breathe out, catching your breath.

"good," he mutters as he reaches out to cup your face in his hand. "come here," he pulls the two of you closer on the bed. then, he returns to kissing you ever so gently, his fingers on the back of your neck and his thumb resting in front of your ear. "let's get you cleaned up."

...

you're sitting on mark's bed in a fresh new t-shirt that he gave you, drinking from the glass of water that he also gave you. mark is in the bathroom, cleaning himself off.

now that the heat of the moment's gone, you're not too sure what just happened. what does this all mean? because believe it or not, your original plan with haechan did not include jumping mark's bones.

mark walks out of the bathroom, sweatpants on with a thin white tee. he throws a towel over his shoulder, his hair wet from his shower. you watch as he walks over to his kitchen to grab another glass of water for himself.

he approaches the bed—you—and truly, you did not know if you should address some of your concerns with him. so, what are we? or is this a one time thing? you should've known that this would make you spiral.

he sits down right next to you after setting down his glass on his bedside table. "are you sure you're okay?"

to be met with a consideration like that shocked you a little, when you yourself didn't even think to ask him that. "yeah, why wouldn't i be?" you try to dismiss his worry and concern.

"you just looked a little shaken up- that's all." he watches you for a moment longer before turning his head. you look over at the clock on top of his bedside table: 11:17pm. it's still not too late, you can go home if you wanted, to run away from the consequences of your own actions, but what then? you're still going to see mark tomorrow at the closing race, and leaving now would just make everything the more awkward.

as if he read your mind, mark voices out, "stay the night," he's not looking at you as he says this, "stay with me," but now he is. his hand reaches over and clasps over the back of your hand, giving it a tiny squeeze.

you were about to protest, "don't you know what tomorrow is?" but of course he knew. so instead, you mumble out a fragile, "okay."

he crawls into bed, lifting up his covers, and he pats on the space next to him. taking that as a signal, you set the glass in your hands on your side of the bedside table, and slide in underneath the covers next to him. you pull the sheets up over your shoulders, head laying half on the pillow, half on mark's chest. mark wears a silver necklace with a cross pendant hanging from it. as he's laying down, that pendant droops down the top of his chest sliding along its chain, sitting right in front of your eyes.

you rest your hand over mark's heart, feeling every thump underneath your palm. mark breathes out loud, then he plants a kiss on your head. your fingertips fidget with his pendant.

"can i ask you something?"

mark looks down at you playing with his necklace, "sure."

"why did you start-?" you take the pendant in between your thumb and your pointer finger and you flip it over so the right side is facing you. "...racing?"

you thought you'd knew what was not the answer: money. living in a place like this—no doubt it wasn't cheap.

mark hums. he shifts his body so that he's now laying on the back of his head on top of his hand. "i like it," he drawls.

you tilt your head up to look at him, without a word, saying that's it?

he continues, "my uncle used to do it." he has one arm wrapped around you and you begin to feel a gentle tapping on your shoulder from his fingers. "it's something i can do to remember him by."

before he even lets you contemplate what to say to that that's not "i'm so sorry for your loss," again, he reflects the question back onto you.

"what about you?" he tucks his chin inwards, looking at you lying on his chest. "tell me about your big goals and ambitions," you can tell he's trying to lighten the mood with the way his voice carried an airiness to it.

"mmh, i like it as well," you say, "and it'd be nice to not have to rely on working at that convenience store." you catch yourself in an unexpected moment of unbridled honesty.

you didn't mind it so much—mark. you didn't mind telling him more about yourself; something about being in his arms made you feel like the world was small, and only the two of you are in it.

"for what it's worth, you're my favourite cashier," mark smiled a skittish smile.

"how many cashiers do you know?"

"two."

"i guess i'll take that."

NEW YEAR'S EVE, 10AM

you wake up the next morning with an ache in your neck. you raise your head from mark's chest from the night prior. he's asleep.

as quietly as you can, you slide your body out of mark's bed. as soon as you're up on your feet, the scent of mark's cologne hits you—his shirt.

immediately, you get to scavenging for your clothes that got strewn all over the apartment last night in a frenzy. haechan had given you something the night before, and you hid it in the pocket of your skirt—where is it?

you spot your skirt on the floor. you kneel on the floor, hands patting down every panel of the fabric, fingers dipping into every crevice. and then you feel it. something soft, but not like the softness of the skirt. you pull out a carefully folded square of tissue paper. you grip the tissue tightly in your hands, crumpling the square.

you pull your clothes up from the floor and quickly change back into them, shedding out of mark's t-shirt that you toss onto his bed.

tissue still in your hand, your head snaps toward mark—lying there, still asleep. then, your attention turns to the glass next to him. it was half full last night, now it's filled up again. he must've refilled it in the middle of the night.

you look back in your hand. then, at his glass. you close your fingers tightly, folding the tissue paper into itself, and you can feel two distinct pellet shapes pressing into your palm through the paper.

there's no way you can even contemplate this, right?

you recall your conversation with haechan just the previous night, before all of this happened:

"you want me to-?"

"no. whatever you're gonna say- no. well..."

"this is insane," you remembered exclaiming in the living room of haechan's apartment.

"2's barely enough to knock him out, much less kill him," haechan started to sound unhinged trying to rationalise this idea to you. "he'd just be too out of it, he won't show up to closing tomorrow, and boom. you're winning, guaranteed."

your mouth is agape, mind completely blank. there's no way you're willing to drug someone for a race. you may not be the most humble, yes, but being immoral?

haechan seems to have given up trying to convince you, "look, just take it with you. whether you use it or not, it's up to you."

and now you're staring at your closed palm, shocked that you're even hesitating to up and leave right now, when you're given the chance.

they're just sleeping pills. you can hear your thoughts merge with haechan's rationale.

no, no, no, no, no. you have to leave.

you have to leave right now, before doing something you're going to regret.

you contemplated throwing the pills away still wrapped up in the tissue here, at mark's place. but if he finds them, what is he going to think? so, you shove it back inside of the pocket of your skirt, rush to grab whatever you'd taken here with you last night, and hurried off.

...

luckily enough, mark didn't live too far away from where haechan lived, and as you make your way out of the lobby, you can recognise where you are in the city.

you walk the few blocks it takes to get to haechan's place.

bright and early, you knock on his door for once—you didn't bring his key with you last night.

you wait outside for a minute or two, before deciding to knock again. this time, calling out for his name as well.

then, an alert pings through on your phone. a text. from haechan

'you're scaring my hookup.'

before you can type out a response, haechan appears in front of you as his apartment door swings open.

"so, where's the hookup?" you step in, making sure your voice is loud and clear—you know haechan too well.

"she climbed out the window, she was so scared," haechan yawns. his hair messy and his glasses slanted on his nose bridge. "so, what happened?"

you draw out the crumpled piece of tissue from your pocket and hold it up like you're putting it on display for him.

"i knew you weren't going to do it—i'm talking about your outfit. you clearly didn't go home last night... what happened?"

oh, you thought, shit. maybe you should've changed first before coming here. now you have to come up with a logical cover-up, or tell haechan the truth of what happened—you don't know what's worse.

"i guess... i was the hookup who climbed out the window or something, i don't know," you mutter under your breath, trying to shrug it off nonchalantly but you can see haechan's jaw drop.

"oh, my god, yn," a sense of pride booming through in his tone, "look at you turning over a new leaf. sleeping with the competition?" he gives a slight shake of his body that makes you immediately regret your decision to tell him.

"no, it had nothing to do with that," you shake your head, "i don't know."

haechan looks at you with a certain look, one that has his eyebrows raised and one that tells you 'i don't believe you.' "whatever you say~" he mocks. "you're ready for closing tonight, though, right?"

"yeah, i think i am."

NEW YEAR'S EVE, 11PM

you haven't spoken to mark today, yet. you've never exchanged phone numbers, or any social medias now that you think of it.

you spent the day tirelessly getting yourself ready, both physically and mentally, for the big closing race tonight. tonight's the night. tonight is what you've been looking forward to all year. the culmination with 100k on the line. practically double your annual pay all in one night. you don't want to sound shallow, but you don't want to disregard that this could have a genuine impact on your life.

you're familiarising yourself with the streets tucked away in another quiet part of the city. as you're walking through intersections and making turns at the corners, you hear a sudden blast of feedback.

"hello, testing."

the voice is not too loud but strong enough. you decide that you need to put your mind to rest, and walking, roaming these streets weren't going to do that. you make your way back to where the majority of people are; at the finishing line. crowds of onlookers haven't manifested yet, but soon these streets will be full of people, chanting and cheering either at your loss or your triumph.

although you have a few years of experience under your belt, it was this year that rapidly shot you into notability. last year, you also attended a closing race—your first closing race—but your performance wasn't the most remarkable. you had less to lose then. but since then, you've gained more and more recognition, more credibility. it'd be crushing if you had a repeat of what happened last year.

time seems like a blur. before you know it, there's 10 minutes left until the race. tradition was that it begins right as the clock strucks midnight, cars speeding off into the new year. and now you're standing off to the side, watching 11:50 statically on your lock screen.

a group of people heading for one direction catches your attention. the other racers. they're all already getting into their cars, you suppose you should, too.

there's a certain melancholy within you. there shouldn't be, right? tonight's the big night. but you can't fight this feeling away.

you crouch into your car. your previous performances earning you a spot right in front of the starting line; a huge advantage.

you shake off your wrists, cracking one side of your neck, then the other. your fingers grip onto your steering wheel tightly. to your right, you spot minjeong already looking at you, a sweet smile on her face. you turn your focus back onto yourself.

you know what to expect. the 'announcer'—not official, but whatever—will give you a 10 second warning. then, along with the crowd, they'll all count down to the new year from 3, and from there, it's all you.

you still haven't seen mark around, yet, you have no idea what spot he would be in. as you're attempting to get a deep breath into you, the 10 second warning comes... then...

"and everyone! 3!"

"2!"

"1!"

you had your foot already on the gas before '1' was chanted, so once you heard the signal, you shift your gear and you race off onto the meandering street. cheers erupt behind you, but you're already too far gone to hear the choruses of "happy new years!" clearly.

the velocity at which you're racing at forces and pins you against your seat. the grip on your steering wheel tightens. before you knew it, the adrenaline kicks in. minjeong isn't next to you, and you don't have time to check behind you.

you tell yourself you don't care. you don't care where your opponents are at, as long as you're first.

and so, you put yourself in the forefront of your mind. the beginning's gone pretty smoothly so far.

just as you're about to fly past a speed bump, you hear a long beep from behind you. as your tyres land, jolting you in your seat, you flash a quick glance at your rearview mirror. you can barely make out the person's face, but you recognised the car as mark's. shit. and what was he thinking—honking at you—is this a joke to him?

he's following closely behind you, you don't know exactly how close but the audience does. he tails directly behind you as you zoom past the horizontal road running through the starting intersection. for a second, you can hear the collective shouts and hollering as you speed past the crowd. the announcer makes some comment on—you're assuming—how close mark is to you, but you can't hear.

you're nearing the incline, the part of the course that spirals up, then leads back down again reconnecting into the main streets. you press onto your pedal harder to maintain your speed even as you're driving up at an angle. mark is catching up, the front of his car now aligned with where the edge of your door is. you twist your steering wheel, turning way sharper than necessary, but that's the only way you can think of to gain some more ground on mark.

you're going back down now, and the finish line isn't far. one more turn, and it's a straight line to the end. the revving of mark's engine is still within earshot.

approaching the turn, you push your steering wheel down to the left, your body swinging in the opposite direction. you can see the horde of people at the end of the street, now just a blended blob to you, about 100m away.

you glance back at your rearview, and just at that moment, mark looks to have overdone his turn. he quickly recovers from it, but you've gained at least 2 seconds from that, and even a split second matters.

you had it.

the adrenaline now courses all throughout your body, and it's like you get deja vu from that make-pretend race you had with just mark. you step on your gas as hard as you can, like you did before... and you blitz past the finish line. mark, too, right behind you.

you slowly release the pressure on your pedal and you can hear the fanfare in the not-so-far distance. finally, you feel like you can take a breath.

you pull off into the parking lot reserved for the candidates, the whole time with mark following you. there's no spectators around this area. you come to a halt, your body forced forwards before leaning back into your seat again.

you hop out of your vehicle, a jittery feeling arising within you. you'd just won, but you're not sure if that's the sole reason for your giddiness.

mark pops his door open and practically jumps out at you, launching himself towards you with his arms open. "you did it!" mark exclaims. you jump onto him and he catches you, arms tight around your waist.

"oh, my god," you pant, still in disbelief.

"you did it, yn," mark repeats. his smile beaming so brightly.

you look down at him, eyes glimmering, and you can't hold yourself back from kissing him. you take his lips into yours and you wish in that moment that you can stay like that for eternity.

"mark, i-" you're at a loss for words, truly. he puts you down onto the ground again. you exhale.

"you did it, baby," he leans down to peck your cheek softly.

you don't know how to feel. there's a wild range of emotions within you that you can't comprehend all at once.

"go on, they're all waiting for their winner out there. go and celebrate," there's a sweetness in the melody of his voice.

you grab onto mark's hand.

everything else, you're not too sure about, yet, but right now, you want to share this moment with him.

#📂 - nct #mark lee fanfic #mark lee #nct mark #nct dream #nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #mark lee x reader #nct 127 smut #nct smut #kpop #mark x reader #mark lee smut

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 18 days

Text

Riding a Vaquero. || Alejandro Vargas

Rating: E Words: 2.4K~ Pairing: Alejandro x F!Reader CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. crack + smut, piv (protected), oral sex (m!receiving), throat fucking, cumming (f! and m!), swallowing cum, praise? ('that's it'), Spanish terms of endearment (nena, mamacita, vaquerita + caballito). other tags: crack, one night stand, dating app, flirting, roasting/mockery/slander of Alejandro. summary: You meet Alejandro on a dating app. Despite roasting the crap out of him he still lets you ride him :) a/n: Inspired by my "It's a Match!" fic... but very loosely and also it's so much fucking worse. + Thank you to @loveandplanet for helping me write this because I was struggling, my goodness.

Friday night. 5:30 PM.

You just got home from work and threw yourself on the couch before even making yourself dinner.

You're tired and bored and sort of... lonely.

The perfect cocktail of emotions to make you dip a toe back into the dark, cesspool of a lake that is the only dating app you keep on your phone: Tinder.

Slowly, you begin swiping away on the pictures of men on your screen.

Most of them are gym bros, there's a few nerds... You're pretty sure they're great, they seem it, you're sure they'd offer wonderful company and conversation over a quick meal...

But for the sake of what you're looking for, they might as well have a sign stamped on their face reading "[ Boring ]".

Boring. Boring. Boring.

That's when you see him.

Alejandro.

A handsome man, older, with crow's feet, and deep laugh lines, and a broad nose, and a bit of grey already creeping onto his beard... or maybe it's just the lighting? Either way, he looks... delicious.

So, you scroll down to read what his bio has to say.

A soldier, originally from Las Almas... 6ft tall... And a good cook... Looks like you've just caught yourself a two-in-one... A dinner and... if his bio is anything to go off of, a one night stand.

Although that bio...

You find yourself swiping right and in an instant, your phone displays a 'It's a Match!' screen, signalling that he liked you back.

You open your DM with him and carefully type a message:

you:

"Do you know your bio has a typo? You wrote horse twice."

His reply was surprisingly quick, almost like he was already in the DM screen as well, waiting for you to reply:

Alejandro:

"I know. I did it on purpose so people would DM me to correct me." "Pretty sure it increased the amount of women reaching out to me." "Women like you."

Cocking a brow, you can't help but scoff. Of course, he uses that typo as an ice-breaker!

No wonder he answered so quick! He was already anticipating you'd call his attention to his typo...

Sitting up on the couch again, you shift your weight and sit into a more focused position, leaning forward, before you type out an answer.

It has to be witty. It has to be funny. It has to catch him off guard...

...

you:

"That explains it." "And now that I got that out of the way..." "Is your forehead really that big or is it just the angle?"

You set your phone down on the coffee table in front of you and bite your lip, hoping that your comment wouldn't have pushed him too far...

A couple of new messages pop onto the left side of the screen in a row, causing you to lean forward to read them.

Alejandro:

"Excuse me?" "I bet you wouldn't say that to my face."

Trying not to giggle, you carefully grab the phone and type another reply:

you:

"More like say it to your forehead you mean?"

You wonder if you're going too far.

He's the first and only interesting guy you've found on Tinder today, the only one that you didn't deem boring upon one glance of their face and bio...

What are you even doing, making fun of him like this?

What if that just causes him to unmatch and block you?

What if-

Alejandro:

"I've never in my entire life been spoken to like this." "Other than when I was a boy pissing off my sisters." "And I hate to say that I sort of like it."

Your eyebrows raise and your eyes widen, feeling like you somehow just caught the biggest fish in the lake by blindly throwing in the lure and reeling it back out when you decided you should.

Sheer fucking luck.

you:

"I have more of those if you'd like." "Can keep going all night just making fun of you."

He paused again for a moment before replying with:

Alejandro:

"And you wouldn't run out of things to say?"

you:

"I'm sure I wouldn't."

Alejandro:

"And what would I have to give you in return for this to happen?"

you:

"Cook me dinner?"

Alejandro:

"Sounds like this was all a ploy to taste my food."

Taking a deep breath, you look around your room aimlessly, trying to hold back from saying the first thought that popped into your mind at reading that message...

But you can't help it.

And, hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

you:

"Maybe it's not just the food I'm planning on tasting."

Alejandro:

"Oh." "Maybe I'd like that."

you:

"Doesn't scare you?"

You almost patted yourself on the back for making a joke about his profile's stupid little 'if you think you're into something that scares me' line.

Alejandro:

"I'm an army colonel. Of course it doesn't scare me." "It just intrigues me." "You sure do look like you're starving. Who am I to deny you?"

Stifling a scoff and a bit of a groan, you reply with:

you:

"That line sounded straight out of a porno."

Alejandro:

"Haven't even cooked you dinner and you're beginning with the insults?" "You don't waste any time, huh?"

you:

"No and neither should you."

Alejandro:

"Then how about you let me cook you dinner right now?" "No stalling or wasting any more time."

Biting back a smirk, you shake your head in amusement.

you:

"Sounds good to me." "Address?"

"I was right, wasn't I, nena [babygirl]?" Alejandro asks as he looks down at you as you crouch before him in his kitchen.

You look up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, muffled sounds escaping your lips as you keep your mouth stuffed with his cock.

"That's right... You really were starving..." He cooed as he looked down at you, his voice carrying a pleasant growl and gravel to it.

Your head is pressed nicely against the cupboards of his kitchen, as he carefully prepares pico de gallo for the tacos he's making the two of you for dinner.

You hadn't expected to end up in this position so soon after driving up to his house, a small 1-store casita with wooden frames and details and a wonderful little tiled patio out back.

You had expected some flirting, some jokes, you roasting him...

Instead, you had somehow ended up pressed against the kitchen counter with his tongue deep in your mouth and his hand up your shirt, fondling one of your breasts...

And now, here you were, perched on your own heels, with his big cock slowly and repeatedly bruising the back of your throat as you moaned softly around it... While he cooks dinner for the both of you like nothing's happening.

It's almost infuriating, how calm he seems, how he looks down at you with those stunning brown eyes of his, and a smug little smirk on his lips...

And yet, he also looks absolutely breathtaking, standing there in a charcoal grey button-up, the first few buttons popped open to reveal a generous speckling of chest hair and a golden crucifix and a few other chains resting over his pecs…

And the way the sweat pools on his brow, and slips down the side of his robust neck, and disappears under his collar…

The light of the setting sun, warm and orange toned, filters through the windows and illuminates his small home, warming it, and reflecting off his sweat, and shining so bright on him.

It almost doesn't get better than this... letting him fuck your throat against the cupboard while he cooks you a meal which, by the scent, will be delicious, proving he wasn't lying about being a good cook...

Setting your hand on his hip, you tap your fingers on his lower back, gesturing him to go deeper into your mouth.

He picks up on the signal and thrusts harder into your mouth, causing you to choke and gurgle around his large shaft, some saliva slowly slipping down the length and disappearing in the generous bush of hair at the base.

"Mmmm, you like when I make you choke, huh?" He coos as he wipes one of his hands on a tea towel and then grips your hair, protecting your head from bouncing back on the hard wood of the cabinet.

Then, his other hand holds onto the edge of the counter, fingers curling and tightening around it, to keep him upright, before he starts thrusting more decisively into your mouth.

Your eyes roll in delight as he bullies his way deep into your mouth in a more consistent and violent pace, his own head falling back and allowing him to grunt and groan as your throat tightens and constricts around him.

"¡Ay carajo! [Ah, fuck!]" Alejandro groans as he pulls your head closer to his crotch, burying your nose in the coarse hair at the base of his cock, keeping the tip buried deep inside your mouth.

Sputtering and gurgling around him, your hands find a perch on his hip, on either side, but, rather than pulling him off, you hold onto him, close and against you, your nails digging into the muscles of his ass cheeks through the fabric of his jeans.

Your tongue laps up at the underside of his cock just as it begins to throb, Alejandro groans above you, leaning his head on the upper cabinets as he slowly floods your mouth with his tangy cum, which slowly slides down your throat as you make an effort to swallow around him.

With a long exhale, Alejandro licks his lips and looks down at you as he slowly pulls his softening cock from your mouth, letting you finally catch a proper breath too.

"Your mouth is very talented, mamacita." He compliments you, a smirk already forming on his lips again, his hand reaching down to help you wipe some drool off your chin.

"Thank you." You reply with a chuckle and push yourself up to your feet, side stepping him as he tucks himself back into his jeans and resumes making you dinner.

"So... What were you saying about having a lot more insults to tell me?" He quips and smirks at you.

"Well, first of all, I could still see your forehead from all the way down there,"

You break the kiss in favor of carefully rocking back and forth on his dick, buried balls deep within your slick cunt.

His large hands grip onto your hip and thighs to continue moving you atop him, making your clit grinding against his pubic hair in a way that made you squirm and whine.

His head is leaning back on the back of his couch as he watches you make yourself feel good, overstimulating your sensitive clit with the help of the coarse hair on his pelvis, and feeling the tip of his slightly curved cock rub against your g-spot.

"You like that, hm, vaquerita [little cowgirl]?" He coos at you, as your head dips back and you moan softly, before bouncing up on his cock for a moment and sinking all the way down, drawing louder groans out of you both.

It's a surprisingly slow fucking session, probably because of your bellies are full and warm with the recent meal, and you just sort of stumbled your way onto the couch afterward, for a make-out session that turned to slow, lazy sex.

Leaning against Alejandro in the low sunlight as the afternoon turns into evening and the sun sets through the window, you rock your hips against his again and again.

Your lips find his for what must be the 50th time tonight. Your tongues intertwine as you huff and moan into his mouth, his fingers digging your thighs as he squeezes you down and rubs you onto him, back and forth.

Breaking the kiss, you set your head down on his shoulder. It's almost too intimate for a first time, but it's strangely nice. His skin feels nice and warm against you, albeit a bit dewy with sweat.

Your eyes look up at him as he relaxes his head back and grunts softly, continuing to guide your hip back and forth on his, to seek out extra friction for you both, and murmuring incoherent Spanish curses and words of praise.

Slowly, you find yourself leaning forward and lick a stripe up his neck toward his stubble-speckled jawline, feeling the saltiness of his sweat on your tongue, as, even now, he's still producing more and more little droplets that slide tantalizingly slowly down his tan skin.

Then, you lick across the bottom of his jaw and around to the back of it, then, your head lowers and you lick another stripe up his neck. Alejandro reacts the same every single time, with a soft shudder and a grunt, throwing his hips up into yours.

"Oh you like that, huh, vaquero [cowboy]?" You tease him this time, using his own words against him.

The look Alejandro shoots you at that quip makes it clear he didn't appreciate your sarcasm... What a shame.

You lean back, your hands coming to rest on his thighs behind you, before you start bouncing in fervor. It drives a groan out of him, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

His left hand goes to your waist to steady you while he brings his other hand up to your lower stomach, pressing down onto it and allowing him to feel himself through your walls.

His thumb finds its way to your clit, rubbing it side to side, as you continue carefully and steadily bouncing off his lap, his own thighs having stiffened and raised to allow you and easier time.

The slaps of your ass and his thighs meeting echos throughout the living room, along with the sounds of your and Alejandro's moans.

It's a slow build-up, the both of you too lazy to actually put in too much effort into chasing your orgasm, but, steadily, and with Alejandro's thumb consistently rubbing against your clit, you find yourself reaching your peak.

Alejandro watches you with heavy-lidded eyes, leaning back against the couch and a stupid smirk painted on his lips, seeming so smug over the fact he got you to fall apart on his cock...

Only to watch you dismount from him and take a seat beside him on the couch, your body feeling too hot and tired to even remain in touch with any part of his.

His smirk vanishes and he cocks a brow, giving you a silent, judgmental look, as if asking 'What are you doing? Get back here.'.

And his face downright settles into a scowl when you mirror him by raising your own brow and ask him "You're a colonel, you've got this, right? You don't need my help.".

And, with an extra little impish smile you add, "Don't be scared, I believe in you, caballito [horsie]!"

for @lyralein , so you stop fucking bullying me because I "never write Alejandro" or whatever 🫶

#ikea writes 💚#cod x reader #cod fanfic #masterlist #call of duty #cod fandom #cod smut #smut #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas fanfic #los vaqueros

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sunkeji · 9 months

Note

Hello!! If it alright can i request a tsukishima(+anyone else separately) x reader where the boys get a wisdom tooth removed so they're loopy and high from the meds and the reader has to take care of them?

a/n: I'm so sorry that I didn't get to your req sooner. If you're still alive and following my blog, I hope you have the heart to forgive me 🙏 also I'm trying a new format tee hee.

Tsukishima

My guy is dazed. I'm talking about his eyes looking hazy, and he's just staring at you. He's literally just staring at you with this sort of confused and serious face, like he's trying to figure something out.

He's got cotton balls stuffed in his mouth to apply the needed pressure, which makes his cheeks look a little puffy. His face right now is contrasting with his usual stoic expression.

Of course, you're going to have to take pictures to show him later to use as material for your teasing and because he looks absolutely cute.

Now he's still high and kind of loopy from the medicine that they gave him so I'm sure he's still feeling sleepy. So you opt to take a cab back to his home, and during this time, he's gotten a bit touchy. He's leaning against your shoulder while slumping in his seat as he fiddles with your fingers.

Fast forward to when you're in his room together. You helped settle him down in his bed after helping him change into a set of comfortable clothes. And of course, he treated you like some sort of pervert for wanting to stay while he changed. You just rolled your eyes and faced your back toward him.

You wanted to make him a smoothie to help with the soreness, or at least some soft foods that'd be easy for him to consume. But before you could do so, he had gently grabbed your hand and led you to his bed.

He was acting shy now, asking you to join him in bed. He obviously wanted to cuddle since he got out of the procedure and was just thinking of ways he could ask you to cuddle with him without actually asking.

Give your tsundere boyfriend some love, he becomes clingy and less emotionally constipated when he's feeling sleepy and high after all.

Bokuto

Just like Tsukishima, except he becomes 10 times clingier and acts like an overgrown baby.

As soon as he's out of the dentist, he's drooping himself all over you. It's like he's leaning almost all of his body weight against you, and mind you, he is no small guy. So it's not unexpected when you get some stares after leaving the dentist.

So it becomes a race against time to get him home before he collapses from the drowsiness or before he starts getting rowdy.

When it comes to him, forethought is necessary. Like booking a ride in advance to ensure your arrival back home wouldn't exceed 15 minutes because, as sad as it is to say it, you don't think your boyfriend can behave for more than that.

And you reach home just in time because, as soon as you step out of the cab, he's sulking about something. You're not sure what it's about this time, but you attempt to get him into the lift first.

You're so close to getting him into his house when he stops dead in his tracks and starts accusing you of not loving him. You don't know how he ever got to that conclusion. You make a sarcastic remark that breaks the dam, and he starts wailing.

You're panicking now, trying to get him into the house before any neighbors start to come out and investigate the source of the noise.

So in a last-ditch effort, you shove him the littlest bit into the house and shut the door. You turn around only to see him on the floor, sobbing and acting as if he's in a soap opera.

You sigh and just go into his bedroom to prepare the bed for him and clothes for him to change into. When you're done, you call him by his favorite pet name and promise him you'll cuddle with him until he's sober.

He perks up at the use of the pet name and scrambles to get into his room to change, and once he's done changing, he grabs you and tackles you into his bed until you're both snug under the covers.

Now he's bombarding you with questions about questions with obvious answers, like whether or not you love him, as he's nuzzling his head into you.

#haikyuu x reader fluff #haikyuu x reader headcanons #haikyuu x reader #bokuto koutaro x reader #bokuto x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #bokuto x reader fluff #tsukishima x reader fluff #hq x reader

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zapreportsblog · 8 months

Note

Could you do something with the Cullens where the reader has a meltdown at school and they find out it’s because they have diabetes and their blood sugar dropped and they can’t find their juice box they packed just in case

❝i need a juice box❞

✭ pairing : cullen siblings x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (y/n) has diabetes and their sugar intake tends to drop quite a bit hence why their always remember to bring a pack of juices with them everywhere, not only does it help but it’s tasty too. But then one day her juice boxes bust in her locker, so what does any frustrated person do? Have a mental breakdown like it’s the end of the world, luckily some classmates of hers has her back

✭ authors note : Ayo ignore that juice part that says no sugar added 😭 i used the first picture i seen of juice and those shits be bustin. Ah and I’ve been watching anime lately so i apologize in advance for the lack of writing I’m putting out

✭ twilight masterlist 2

(Y/N) had always been well-acquainted with the delicate balance of her health. Diabetes wasn't just a condition for her; it was a family legacy. With half her family members wrestling with the same ailment, it was almost a rite of passage.

The sun had barely risen over Forks as she hurriedly got ready for her first day at Forks High School. This new beginning was daunting enough, but it became even more challenging with the knowledge that her diabetes would be a constant companion throughout the day.

As she zipped up her school bag, she made sure to slot in her lifeline - a package of juices. These juices were her safety net, ensuring her blood sugar levels stayed within a safe range. She had diligently followed this routine every day, her tiny insurance policy against hypoglycemia.

With her backpack securely on her shoulders, (Y/N) headed downstairs to the kitchen. Her mom greeted her with a warm smile, understanding the importance of this daily ritual. "Don't forget your juices, dear," she reminded.

(Y/N) grabbed the chilled package from the fridge and slipped it into her bag. "Thanks, Mom," she said, returning the smile. Her mom's familiarity with diabetes had always been a source of comfort.

Minutes later, she was out the door and on her way to Forks High School. The campus buzzed with excitement, but (Y/N) couldn't help feeling a bit of trepidation. New school, new faces, and the relentless specter of diabetes were a lot to handle.

History class was her first stop, and she found a seat next to a boy named Jasper. They exchanged polite nods as she settled into her chair, trying to focus on the teacher's introduction.

Then it happened. A discreet but insistent beep emanated from her wrist. Her watch timer, meticulously set to remind her when to take her juice, had gone off. This was the crucial moment to maintain her blood sugar levels. With practiced ease, she reached into her bag to retrieve her juice, only to discover her heart-sinking realization – it wasn't there.

Panic started to creep in, her fingers trembling as she fumbled through her bag in desperation. Jasper, noticing her distress, leaned closer. "Is everything okay?" he asked in a concerned whisper.

(Y/N) could feel her face flush with anxiety. She mumbled, "I think I left my juice in my locker. I need to go get it."

The teacher, Mrs. Thompson, glanced their way. "Is there a problem?"

(Y/N) stuttered, "I just need to grab something from my locker. It won't take long, I promise."

Mrs. Thompson nodded, granting her permission to leave the class. Her heart raced as she hurried out the door, fervently hoping that her juice would be where she thought it was.

(Y/N) practically sprinted through the hallways, her heart pounding in her chest. The idea of waiting another four hours until lunch without her juice was unbearable. She needed to retrieve her lifeline from her locker, and she needed it now.

Finally, she reached her locker, a sense of relief washing over her as she yanked it open. But that relief quickly turned to frustration as she stared at the sight before her. Her textbooks had fallen over and, in a cruel twist of fate, had crushed the juice boxes. Their colorful packaging was torn and sticky liquid seeped from the ruined containers.

"No, no, no," she muttered in frustration, tears welling up in her eyes. It felt like the universe was conspiring against her today, and the overwhelming weight of her situation crashed down on her shoulders. Her mind raced with thoughts of how she would make it through the day without her juice.

Just when it seemed like her world was spiraling out of control, a voice interrupted her thoughts. "Hey, are you okay?" It was Rosalie, a girl she barely knew, but one of the few familiar faces in this new school.

(Y/N) blinked back tears and explained what had happened, her voice quivering with anxiety. "I don't know what to do. I can't wait until lunch without my juice."

Rosalie glanced at the sticky mess inside her locker and then at Emmett, who had joined them. "That's totally not cool," he said, sympathy in his eyes. "I'll grab you something from the vending machine. What do you want?"

(Y/N) opened her mouth to protest, but before she could utter a word, Emmett had already taken off down the hallway. She looked helplessly after him, torn between gratitude and a sense of intrusion.

Rosalie placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry about it," she said with a warm smile. "Once Emmett's made up his mind, that's that. He's a bit overbearing at times, but he means well."

(Y/N) couldn't help but smile through her frustration. In this unexpected moment of crisis, she had found a glimmer of kindness and support. Sometimes, it took a helping hand to make a bad situation feel a little more manageable.

Just when (Y/N) thought her day couldn't get any stranger, Emmett returned with a comical surplus of juice boxes in his arms. He had not come back with just one or two; he had brought what looked like a small grocery store worth of them.

"Emmett! What are you doing?" Rosalie exclaimed, smacking him on the back of the head. She looked at the impressive stack of juice boxes with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

Emmett shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face. "I didn't know how many she wanted, so I just grabbed them all."

(Y/N) stood there, stunned and grateful. She couldn't believe the lengths this stranger was going to in order to help her out. "Thank you," she managed to say, her voice filled with genuine appreciation.

Emmett chuckled. "No problem at all. It's better to have too many than not enough, right?"

Rosalie rolled her eyes but wore a fond smile. "You always do this, Emmett. How are you going to carry all of them?"

Emmett scratched his head, looking a bit perplexed. "I'll just carry them around until we see her again at lunch. She can take what she needs now."

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "I don't even know how to thank you both enough," she said, reaching out to take a handful of juice boxes, about six of them. It was a bit heavy, but she could manage.

Emmett grinned, his good-naturedness shining through. "You're welcome. Anytime you need help, just let us know."

Rosalie gave (Y/N) a playful shove. "Girls gotta help girls, right?"

With her backpack now considerably heavier with the added juice boxes, (Y/N) felt a newfound sense of belonging. These two strangers had shown her kindness and support when she needed it most, and she couldn't help but feel that Forks High School might not be such a daunting place after all. As they walked her back to class, she couldn't help but smile, grateful for this unexpected friendship.

Lunchtime arrived, and (Y/N) entered the bustling cafeteria with her stack of juice boxes, feeling a mixture of gratitude and nervousness. She looked around, wondering where to sit when she heard a familiar voice booming across the room.

"Hey, juice girl!" Emmett called out, waving enthusiastically from a table on the other side of the cafeteria. His infectious energy drew the attention of many students, and a few curious glances followed her as she made her way toward him.

A warm smile stretched across her face as she approached Emmett's table. He had saved her from a diabetic crisis earlier in the day, and now he was offering her a seat at his table, as if she were already part of their group.

"Thanks," she said, taking a seat next to Emmett, her stack of juice boxes settling beside her. She couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging that she hadn't expected to find so quickly in this new school.

As she settled in and started unpacking her lunch, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel grateful for the kindness of her new friends. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to her, and it made Forks High School feel a little less dauntin

Emmett introduced his siblings to (Y/N) with a playful grin. "This is Rosalie, my lovely and sometimes overly responsible partner, and this," he gestured dramatically to a young man who had been quiet until now, "is Edward, our resident brooding poet."

“Partner?”

“It’s complicated,” Rosalie says but she gave (Y/N) a warm smile, and Edward nodded in acknowledgment, his expression more reserved.

Emmett couldn't resist a teasing grin as he turned to (Y/N). "And, of course, you already know me, the one who saved the day earlier—your trusty juice retriever." He emphasized the last part, a playful twinkle in his eye.

“Then there’s Alice and jasper but I’m not sure where those two are at the moment.” He added.

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh at Emmett's description. "Yes, my hero," she replied, her gratitude evident in her tone.

Edward, who had been observing the interaction quietly, couldn't resist a smirk. "Emmett and his heroic acts. Quite the storyteller, he is."

Emmett chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "Well, I just wanted to make sure our new friend here didn't pass out from low blood sugar."

(Y/N) felt a sense of warmth and camaraderie settling in at the table. These strangers had quickly become friends, and she was grateful for their support. With a newfound sense of belonging, she joined in the conversation, feeling more at ease in this new school than she had thought possible.

#x reader #x reader one shot #x reader oneshot #twilight imagine #twilight imagines #twilight x reader #twilight masterlist #twilight x y/n #twilight x you #rosalie hale x reader #jasper hale x reader #emmett cullen x reader #twilight scenario

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f0point5 · 29 days

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Jealous Emilia after they get together plss I am beggingggg cook this for us plssssss 🙏🙏🙏

Not me rewriting this no less than four times and still hating it 😂 but it’s not going to get any better haha. This was hard to write because I actually don’t see Emilia as the jealous type. I kind of drew off a lot of her known insecurities and alluded to her kind of struggling with the “wag” role a bit so it’s not just her reacting poorly to Max being fawned over by a girl because I don’t think that would be true to her character. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

✨Set in Jeddah 2024✨

And I’m highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

If there’s one thing to be said for the Jeddah paddock, it’s pretty at sunset. You watch people moving through the paddock bathed in golden light. The ground looks like the yellow brick road. Even though it’s getting cooler now as it gets closer to qualifying, you still choose to sit inside Red Bull hospitality. You’re also sitting inside because Max said he wanted to hang out before quail. Even though he’s spent the last forty-five minutes talking to one of the hospitality guests.

Amy, something or other. She races GT cars in some series you’ve never heard of. You’re not sure what connections got her the invite to the garage but Max had been herded away by one of the media reps to take pictures with her so she must be someone’s daughter. They seem to have hit it off, you note. He’s in full maxplaining mode, bending down to the line of his own hand as he illustrates what looks like an apex. Amy isn’t even watching his hands, she’s watching Max. Hazel eyes just sparkling as she memorises every inch of him. Yeah, you know that look well enough.

And it’s not that you mind. He likes to talk racing, he likes racers. It’s not like you know what it feels like to driver a car at top speed, and more importantly you don’t want to know. The hot laps with Max were more than enough. You can’t be everything to him and you don’t need to be. You tell yourself you don’t want to be. It’s good he has other people to talk to, because it’s not like you can ever really understand his competitive streak. The man who knows nothing except how to win will not always be able to relate to the girl who has always been too afraid to lose.

No, it’s not bothering you that Max is talking to her. It’s bothering you that she has the most obvious crush on him since…no, actually, this is the most obvious crush ever. She’s played with her hair so many times you just know karma is going to make her bald someday. You hope you’re there somehow.

“Hey,”

You jump at the sound of Checo’s voice. He sits down at the end of the table, brandishing Kitkat, which he slides over to you.

“Max has made a new friend,” he says, nodding in Max’s direction.

You tear open the wrapper with far too much aggression. “So I see,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant.

“She races, right?”

You nod, biting into the chocolate. “GT, apparently,”

“Lots in common,” Checo says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “You have to watch your back,”

You know he’s joking. You know that in no universe are you in competition with her. And yet, his words sink under your skin under your blood is curdling at the sight of Max laughing at something Amy says.

“I don’t have to watch anything,” you say with shrug, turning towards Checo. “If she can take him she can have him.” You push your hair over one shoulder and run your tongue over your teeth.

“Whoa,” Checo chuckles, throwing his hands up like he’s being faced with a hungry lion. You suppose since he has a wife, he knows the look well enough. “I was joking.” When you don’t react, he shakes his head. “It’s Max,”

You know what he means. It’s Max, not Chuck Leclerc. It’s Max, not Danny Ric. It’s Max, not Checo. But it’s Max. You don’t have to worry he’s going to lose his mind over the actresses or supermodels, but he sure seems to be respectfully admiring his female alter ego.

It’s like he can sense you thinking about him, it’s uncanny, really. Out of the corner of your eye you can see him walking towards your table with Amy in tow.

Fake smile, it’s fine, she’s just a fan.

Max introduces you, and you smile and shake her hand and ask her if she having a nice day, because you’re Max’s girlfriend, so you owe it to him to be polite. She has no such obligation, although you might be imagining her flinch when Max says the word girlfriend.

“I think it’s the best day of my life,” she says in answer to your question. The telltale flicker of her eyes in Max’s direction as they sit down almost making you roll yours.

Max doesn’t notice, he’s more interested in taking your Kitkat out of your hand and taking a bite. He bites it so that all four sticks have the end missing and you wear you’ve never been so disgusted by this man. For a second, you think Amy can have him.

“Amy races GT cars, like the ones we tested in Portugal,” he says to you now, his hand disappearing under the table to rest on your thigh and trace circles with his thumb like it’s a habit. “We are just talking about setting up a test for her with Verstappen com,”

Oh, great. So not only is she utterly bewitched by the ocean eyes, you’re making her dreams come true. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Ah,” is all you say, sharing a look with a smirking Checo.

“That would really be such a dream come true,” Amy says, and you almost laugh. “I’m a big fan of yours, I think it’s so cool that you’re involved with things outside formula one. You should come to a race sometime. I owe you paddock passes,”

You met him three hours ago, and he isn’t even the one who invited you. Do you owe him a blowjob as well, Amy?

“Yeah. Our schedule is a bit hectic but yeah, it would be good to fit that in soon,” Max says, turning to you. “Right?”

What am I? The secretary? Because in case you didn’t notice, she didn’t fucking invite me.

You just shrug.

“GT racing doesn’t exactly draw the influencer crowd,” you are definitely not imagining the way her eyes slide over to you before she looks back at Max to say, “it’s really good racing,”

You zone out right then and there. It’s like your brain short circuits from the energy it’s taking not to reach over, grab this girl by her stringy extensions, and rip. If she and Max keep talking, you don’t hear it. You don’t want to hear it. You notice Checo noticing your discomfort, even as he engages the other two in conversation. For all his quirks, Checo reads human behaviour much better than Max. Though you don’t need to be a body language expert to see how much this girl likes him.

She looking at him like she wants to eat him, hanging on unspoken words, fingers twitching on the table like she’s desperate to touch him. And he’s nodding along, because they’re so aligned that whatever she says he agrees with, and the maxplaining is one-handed now but no less enthusiastic, and you’re about to dig your nails into his skin because he is not going to have one hand almost up your skirt while another woman is flirting with him.

All these thoughts are interrupted by the appearance of one of the Red Bull media managers.

“Amy, we were hoping to get some pictures of you with the car, if you’re free?”

“Yeah, sure, one second,” she says, turning to Max. “Which way is the garage again?” Like she doesn’t have someone who clearly just came from the garage standing right next to her.

“Just through there, keep going straight,” Max says, pointing to the corridor with engineers walking in and out. You give the girl the benefit of the doubt that she’s not that stupid, just desperate.

Reluctantly, she gets to her feet. “So, I’ll give you a call to set up the test?”

“Yeah, sure,” Max says. “Or you can call Raymond. He’ll put your team in touch with the right people,”

“Okay, awesome,” she says, leaning down enough that you can see right down her shirt. “It was really great to meet you. And I meant it about the GT race,” and then, as if remembering she can’t be rude, she glances at Checo. “You guys, too,”

You wave her off, and your smile doesn’t even fall. Because it’s funny. It’s funny that a grown woman would behave like that in front of a man’s girlfriend. It’s funny that a woman gunning for sponsorship would behave like you does regular shifts in something called the “Champagne Room”.

And it’s absolutely hilarious that Max turns to you, without a care in the world, and says, “I’ve got such a headache. I stood up into the cupboard in the garage, it hurt so bad,”

You give him tight smile and pull out your phone to text Lily to see if she’s still with Alex or if she’s free for a catch up.

“What?” You hear Max say above you. You ignore him. “What? She the-“ You look up just in time to see that Checo is mouthing something to Max. “Jealous?”

“I’m not jealous,” you snap, leaning back in the your chair to glare at both of them. They give each a mocking grin. “Yeah, very funny,” this sets them off snickering like school kids. “Fuck both of you.”

You get up and stalk through the room and back towards the garage. You don’t even know what you’ll do when you get there since being Max’s girlfriend had put an end to you just wandering down the pitlane and allowed in any garage. Maybe you’ll just try and find GP. If Max doesn’t catch up to you first. You can hear him calling you.

“Leibling, wait,” he’s right behind you now, and you hear him almost stumbling as he leans forward to catch you by the wrist.

You shrug him off, but stop at the door to his driver room and push it open, jerking your head to order him inside. He may be a dick, but he still deserve for the whole team to know his business. He steps into the room, reaching for your waist but you move out of his way and leave him to close the door while you lean against the physio table on the other side of the room.

He sighs when he sees how you’re looking at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. I mean, I did. Not at you. I didn’t think Checo was being serious,” he defends, and by the end of his sentence he’s fighting an incredulous smile and you squeeze the edge of the physio bench to stop yourself pulling your hair. Or his.

How can this guy understand complex tyre strategy but not basic human interaction?

“You didn’t think he was serious that I was annoyed by someone flirting with you in front of me?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow. “And that I wouldn’t be annoyed at you making fun of me for it?”

Max scoffs. “She wasn’t flirting with me,”

“Oh, please.” You let out a scoff of your own. “You didn’t notice me flirting with you for three years, do not pretend you’re an expert,”

“I noticed,” Max argues, “I just didn’t take it seriously,”

“Which is why you have no leg to stand on,”

“Right, because I was just supposed to believe that you suddenly-“

“It wasn’t exactly sudden-“

“For God’s sake,” Max groans, an expression of abject confusion twisting his face. “What are we even fighting about?”

“You enjoying Lella Lombardi over there slobber all over you, and enjoying it,” the exasperation gets worse when Max’s eyes widen like this is the first he’s hearing of this entire discussion.

“I’m- she- what?” He splutters, his head shaking in disbelief. “Is this one of those Tiktok pranks?”

“I get that she’s a pilot and that makes her automatically interesting, but until I hear otherwise, you’re still in a relationship,”

Max looks at you like you’ve grown a second head; shock, concern, and a good amount of unadulterated disgust. “You can’t think I was looking at her…like that,”

The way he says it, like he’s afraid to catch cooties, like it’s it’s inconceivable, like you didn’t still have bruises of your hips in the shape of his fingertips, takes all the fight out of you. Checo was right; it’s Max. It’s feels like someone’s let all the air out of a balloon. Your shoulders slump and you sigh.

“Because that would be crazy?” You lift yourself onto the physio bench as you speak. You’re not even really sure what you’re asking. “Max Verstappen, who likes only one thing on earth, that one thing being racing, attracted to another driver rather than his influencer accessory girlfriend?”

“Actually, I like two things,” he says with that boyish smirk that has been making your stomach do backflips for longer than you care to admit.

“Stop laughing at me,” you whine, fighting the urge to smile.

“I’m not. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that she upset you. I’m sorry that I upset you,” he says, taking a careful step closer to you, but he stops there. “Even if I don’t know what I did,”

He really has no idea. He is painfully, adorably clueless.

“Nothing,” you say, because you don’t know either. Sometimes it’s just inexplicably overwhelming being Max Verstappen’s girlfriend. “Just you being you, I guess,”

Max frowns at that. “I didn’t know being myself was so offensive,” he mumbles, and you instantly feel guilty. You of all people shouldn’t make him feel bad for how much space he takes up. You of all people know how much that bothers him.

“No, it’s not that. It’s not-“ you struggle for a way to explain it. Max takes the opportunity to cross the rest of the room and stand in front of you, his expression telling you he’s waiting for you to finish. “It’s not about who you are, but sometimes the way people act around you is just…and you’re so used to it, you don’t even…you just forget who you are sometimes, Max,”

He nods soberly. “Yeah. I do, and I’m sorry,” he says. He hooks his hands under your knees and pulls your legs apart and slots between them as he drags you to the edge of the bench so that you’re pressed against him, leaning back to look up at him. “But I never forget who you are, which is the most important bit,”

You can’t help but smile at him. He’s so simple. And not because he’s unintelligent, but because he’s guileless, because who he is has never scared him. He smiles back, and it’s unguarded and unbridled and you almost forgive that girl because you’ll be damned if you don’t have a crush on him, too.

“Was she really flirting with me?” He asks curiously, looking down as his hands find your and entwine your fingers.

“Oh, yeah,” you say, and he frowns, the wheels working in head as he tries to figure out how he didn’t notice. “Like me at your mum’s on Christmas Eve in 2020 level of obvious,”

“Well,” he says with a huff. “She just blew her chance at a test,”

“You don’t have to-“

“Wait, you were flirting with me at Christmas at my mum’s?”

#max verstappen x reader

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megalony · 8 months

Text

That's my Wife

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine based loosely on an Anon request. I hope you all like it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefanthefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway

Masterlist

Summary: While Eddie is at work, (Y/n) takes Christopher to a birthday party. Things don't go as planned when she goes into early labour.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Now you know I can't go on the slides and stuff with you like daddy does, right?" (Y/n) grabbed Christopher's backpack from the footwell and slung it on her shoulder as she leaned against the door and looked down at her boy.

"Yeah. You take picture for daddy?"

"I will baby, don't worry."

When Chris held his arms out, (Y/n) rolled her eyes but obliged and looped her arms around his waist so he could hold onto her neck. He was so used to Eddie lifting him in and out of the car that he didn't dare jump down on his own and it meant that (Y/n), although eight months pregnant, also had to lift him and carry him around.

Something Eddie wouldn't approve of if he knew (Y/n) was still carrying Chris while she was pregnant, but he didn't need to know that.

She set him down on his feet and handed him his crutches before they started their short walk.

Chris had made a lot of friends in his new school and it was Adam's birthday party today. He was having his party at a play centre in town and he had very sweetly asked (Y/n) if Chris would be able to join and go round the centre. He wanted to include Chris but he wasn't sure if he did this sort of thing. It was something Chris loved to do, especially when his parents climbed into the play area with him and helped him down the slides or flop into the ball pit. But he could do this fine on his own as long as he knew (Y/n) was nearby.

Eddie would have been off shift and here too if Hen hadn't of gone off sick this week so Eddie picked up her shifts to help out. He knew once the baby was born he wouldn't be picking up any more extras for a while so it was worth it doing them all now to get the extra income.

(Y/n) rubbed her hand up and down Chris's shoulders as they walked into the reception and looked around for Adam and his mum.

She felt bad for Eddie, he had done a night shift straight into a day and when he got home tonight he was going to be dead on his feet.

"He's there mummy," Chris waved his crutch over towards where at least five tables had been pushed together for the parents to sit around. The drill was for the kids to run off and have a play for an hour or so, then they would sit down for food and cake and then another play before they went home.

"Let's go then,"

When they reached the table, (Y/n) put her and Chris's bags down on a free chair before she used the table as leverage to bend down on her knees in front of Chris. She silently held onto the crutches and he took the hint, letting her move them and he curled his arms around her neck and let his head fall on her shoulder. A big smile plastered to his lips.

He hadn't been anywhere like this in a while, probably not since before (Y/n) was pregnant. It had disrupted his day yesterday when Eddie had to sit him down and tell him he wouldn't be able to go and join him but because Chris knew he still got to go to the party, he wasn't too unsettled.

"Now you have fun and please be careful, do not go on the slides alone. If you need me to walk around and watch you just shout me, okay?"

"You come in too?" Chris nuzzled his face into (Y/n)'s neck until his glasses bumped and rubbed against her skin.

"I can't come in, I'm too big I'll get stuck."

"Mummy, please?"

"Baby, you know daddy will tell me off if I try. I can follow you round the outside though, are you gonna try go in with Adam first?" She could feel him laughing into her neck which was a good sign.

Part of (Y/n) worried that he wouldn't go in without her but she was hoping he would because he would have at least three other kids from school that he got along well with and Adam was glued to Chris. They would stay together so it wasn't as if Chris was totally alone in there.

If she wasn't pregnant or was less than six months, (Y/n) would be right in there with him going up the levels and waiting at the bottom of the slides for him. But Eddie had given her strict instructions before he left last night and he made her promise not to overdo herself and not to go down the slides or go too far if Chris asked her to. Chris didn't quite grasp that (Y/n) couldn't do as much with him while she was pregnant and it worried Eddie because he knew (Y/n) would give in and push herself to do stuff with Chris, it was endearing but worrying for Eddie.

"Okay,"

"Good boy, go have fun." (Y/n) pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek and helped him take off his shoes before she gave him a nudge and watched Adam wait patiently for him.

From where (Y/n) sat down at the table, she could see most of the large enclosed play area in front of them.

There were a lot of slides, three levels to climb up, tunnels to get lost in. Foam stairways to climb, ropes to swing from and rollers like a car wash to squeeze through which she knew Chris loved. He could do almost all of it but (Y/n) didn't want him going down the slides alone just to be safe. Eddie always did everything with him ever since Chris was a toddler and they went to places like this.

She didn't want Chris thinking he could do something alone and then getting stuck high up on a level or burning himself on the slide or not being able to get back down from somewhere. As long as he had one of his friends with him he would be alright.

"He's a good little climber, isn't he?" Andrea, Adam's mother leaned over the table to smile at (Y/n) and nod her head in the direction of the boys.

They could see all the kids drifting off in groups of two or three and Chris was with Adam and a young girl called Sasha. They were climbing up a set of foam stairs and Chris was laying on his stomach, using his arms to pull up and scuffing his feet on the steps to give him an extra boost. He wasn't good on stairs, that was where Eddie would usually carry him if they couldn't find a lift.

But this was different, this was somewhere Chris could let loose and mess around. He could crawl and shuffle and climb and no one would say anything or stare or laugh because all the kids didn't care what he did. He was here to have fun and that was what he was doing.

"He is, he's very determined."

"Is Eddie not coming?" Andrea did a quick sweep around but she couldn't see him among the throng of kids and adults all bustling about.

"He had to work, so I have to take a lot of pictures for him." (Y/n) had her phone in her jacket pocket and she was waiting until Chris got close enough or went down one of the slides so she could capture the moments. That way Eddie wouldn't feel so bad or feel like he missed out.

"That's good, he was telling me you're close to your due date now… he even remembered the exact date. He was very excited."

Andrea's brows quirked and her smile showed she was impressed while (Y/n) pursed her lips to stop from smiling. Either Eddie hadn't explained it very well or Andrea hadn't been listening properly but there was a clear miscommunication somewhere along those lines.

"Uh, no, we're having a C-section, it's booked in for four weeks from now."

"Oh, that does make more sense considering he was very certain about the day."

(Y/n) couldn't help but laugh. It showed how endearing and sweet Eddie was at heart. He would do anything for his family and when they had been expecting Chris, Eddie had been just the same. Excited, anxious, walking on egg shells. If it hadn't been for the rather traumatic birth everything would have been a lot easier and it would have been a perfect pregnancy.

Chris's birth had been anything but plain sailing and because of how badly (Y/n) had haemorrhaged and the complications she had afterwards, the doctors thought it would be best to have a C-section this time. Save the panic and calm all their nerves and ensure nothing went wrong.

They had the date all booked and Eddie had it circled in red pen on the kitchen calander. His last shift was two days before the birth and his Abuela would have Chris for them while they went to hospital. Eddie had three full weeks off work for after the birth if everything went according to plan and he was counting down the days.

When Andrea got up to go and get a drink from the bar, (Y/n) dug around in her jacket which was really Eddie's denim jacket, and found her phone. She needed to start taking some photos, Eddie had promised to show Buck the pictures and let him know how it went since Chris was attached to his 'Uncle Buck'.

"Mummy!"

With one hand on her stomach, (Y/n) got up and slowly trudged over towards the entrance to the play area and looked up. Chris was leaning against the mesh, pressing his face so close his nose was pushing through and his smile was slightly obscured but it made for a perfect picture.

"We off down the slide," Chris pointed towards the dark blue curved slide at the front corner and (Y/n) nodded.

She pressed record and tilted her phone up, following the boys as they padded across the foam mats. Chris was in fits of giggles when he went down on his stomach and shimmied under one of the foam rollers and (Y/n)'s face beamed as she watched him. Part of her worried if he got stuck, there was no way she would get up there to get him out but he did it with a big grin on his face that she got on camera.

When they reached the slide, Chris sat down first and Adam sat behind him and (Y/n) moved to the end of the slide and waited for them to come down.

"Well done baby!" She put her phone back in her pocket and reached down to lift him up by his underarms. She set him back on his feet with a kiss on his head but did her best to hide her wince when her back twinged. Maybe Eddie was right, lifting Chris and carrying him as well as the baby was a bit too much after a while.

***

"Chris, are you coming?"

"No."

A frown pulled at Adam's lips and he held his hand out to see if it would make Christopher feel a bit better but he still shook his head.

Chris brought his hands up to cover his ears and started to shake his head before he moved and flopped down to the floor with a thump and sat down. There were too many kids and adults at that table. He wasn't sitting there with everyone shouting and screaming and throwing things. He wasn't eating his dinner in front of that many people.

He was very particular, being in the classroom at school was fine because they had less than twenty children per class, it was more concentrated and people were spread out. Eating dinner was different too because the teachers gave Chris his own little corner in the dining room where he could sit alone with hi back to everyone and eat his dinner in peace. And sometimes if he was very unsettled, they let him eat in the classroom which was always empty at lunchtime.

The only people Chris would eat around were his parents or the team at Eddie's station because they were more like family. He didn't like eating in front of strangers or other kids at school, he always felt like they were watching him.

"Oh, (Y/n)…"

Turning her head, (Y/n) looked around before her eyes landed on Chris and she quickly got up, ignoring the dull throb in her lower back as she tried to hurry over to Chris.

"Mummy… mummy, don't want to,"

"Baby, it's alright, come here." She rubbed her hands up and down his arms and pulled him closer until he could bury his face in her chest and wrap his arms around her waist instead of holding his ears. "We don't have to sit with everyone, we brought a pack up anyway, didn't we? Don't get upset, they can find us a table out the way. No one will mind."

She slowly rubbed her hand up and down Chris's back and kissed the top of his head. He had been doing so well and she wanted to finish the day on a high, not a low.

She had made a pack up this morning before they arrived and told Andrea Chris wouldn't eat any of the food they served here. He was specific, there were only a few places he liked to eat out at and he wouldn't eat party food, only food that his parents bought. Bobby was the only exception, Chris loved his food.

"No, not hungry yet."

"Five more minutes of play, then pack up, okay? We want to watch Adam get his birthday cake, don't we?"

Chris nodded his head and tilted his head back enough to press his chin into (Y/n)'s chest so he could look up at her. If either of his parents smiled at him it was an instant calming mechanism for Chris, he knew he wasn't in trouble and that it was okay for him to have a little panic.

"Come on then." A little longer playing would calm Chris down but (Y/n) didn't want him playing too long because he needed a rest and he needed to eat. They had to eat soon so they would be in time to see Adam get his cake and sing happy birthday to him.

He pulled back and let her lift him up to his feet before he grabbed her hand and held her arm to his chest when they started to walk.

The pair of them walked through the entrance and (Y/n) waited patiently for Chris to decide what he wanted to do. He knew he had to stay close enough for (Y/n) to walk beside him at the bottom, she couldn't climb up with him and she didn't want him wandering around on his own.

(Y/n) could see Chris had a frown on his face, he was still unsure about going back to eat with everyone. They were all being loud, throwing food and squabbling together, it was a sensory overload. At least in the play area all the kids bypassed him and didn't stay so close they were shouting in his ear.

Her eyes followed her boy closely as he shuffled up the steps and she took slow steps below him as he slowly shuffled along a rope before he looked down at her.

"Slide,"

"Okay, go along then baby."

"You meet me at the bottom," (Y/n) craned her head to see where the bottom of the red slide was but she frowned when she realised it was in the middle of the ball pit. She knew Chris wouldn't go down that slide unless she was waiting for him, he liked the ball pits but he couldn't get out of them properly.

"I'll wait at the side of the ball pit."

"No! Mummy you wait at the side."

"Baby-"

"Mummy!" Chris dropped to his knees and dig his fingers into the mesh rope protecting him from falling. He started to lean back and forth and swing on it as his frown deepened. He was getting unsettled, if Eddie were here it would be a lot easier.

"Do I have to call daddy and uncle Buck?" (Y/n) put her hands on her hips and straightened her back for a second before she leaned back down when her stomach cramped. She watched Chris start to whine her name over and over until she sighed and walked towards the ball pit.

It was going to be easier to go along with Chris than try and coax him to a different slide or go down it without her at the bottom. And ringing Eddie would only upset Chris further because it would mean he was in trouble.

If she got Eddie on the phone he would give Chris the stern talk, tell him he had to listen to his mum and if he couldn't then Eddie would have to come down there and sort him out.

(Y/n) walked over to the ball pit and peeked in before she sighed. At least Eddie wasn't here to see her doing this. The opening into the ball pit was a small oval gap in the mesh and (Y/n) had to sit down on the foam wall, carefully swing her legs over and then lower herself down. It didn't do her back any good to wade through the plastic balls that felt like a sea overtaking her and pulling her down.

"Chris, come down baby."

It was a relief to hear him giggling and banging the walls when he shuffled down the slide. She reached her arm out so that when he came out the slide, he could grab her hand and pull himself over to her.

He smacked his arms out and flung some of the plastic balls away from them and started to kick his legs like he was swimming and it was a relief to (Y/n) to see him finally settle and smile again. She knew getting him out of here was going to be the problem though. He had been playing for over an hour and now he was tired and needed food but he didn't want to be with everyone else. She might end up taking him home.

"A-are we going…" (Y/n) trailed off and turned her head to the side so Chris couldn't see her grimace when her stomach tightened. "Dinner time," She managed to grumble out before she turned and grabbed the foam edge to steady herself.

"Not yet mummy."

"Ooh no…"

Fuck. Not yet, not without Eddie!

Her water broke. In the ball pit. In the play centre. With Chris right next to her.

This was not part of the plan. The plan was all laid out and simple and agreeable, Chris was going to have a movie night with them the night before and then he would be up ready and early to go stay with Abeula. Eddie would be with (Y/n) right by her side and they would have this baby different to last time.

(Y/n) didn't want to go through labour again, she wasn't ready for this. She wasn't ready for the panic and the blood and the complications and screaming out to hold her baby while Eddie pinned her to the bed when she tried to snatch Chris from the midwife. She didn't want to watch Eddie blur before her eyes and fall into his arms when her heartrate started to drop and she started to bleed again.

Fumbling in her pocket, (Y/n) shakily grabbed her phone and scanned down for Eddie's contact. He said he would try and keep his phone on him in case she needed to call today, he would do his best like he always did.

No answer.

"Eddie, baby c-call me… my water broke, fuck, call me back please." Her voice barely raised above a trembling whisper son she didn't scare Chris.

"(Y/n), there you are, we're going to cut the cake soon, would Chris like to have some?" Andrea bent down on the other side of the mesh and smiled at the pair of them but her smile faded quickly when (Y/n) looked up and she saw the tears on her face.

"My water broke,"

"Oh god… let me tell someone and we'll get you out-"

"No. No I- I'm not moving until I c-can get hold of Eddie…" (Y/n) braced her elbows on the foam edge and clenched her hands together to try and think. She wasn't able to move very far now and she couldn't go anywhere without Eddie. That wasn't an option. "Can you tell t-them to keep kids away from here, until he comes, please?"

She couldn't move but she couldn't have any other kids coming down the slide and messing about in here when she was like this. It wasn't safe nor conventional and Chris was settled, (Y/n) couldn't risk him having a meltdown or getting upset right now when she couldn't get hold of Eddie.

"Of course, I'll go now and they can section this bit off I would think."

(Y/n) managed a feeble thank you before she felt Chris grabbing her arm and tugging gently so she would look at him.

"Okay?" He asked quietly, smiling despite knowing there was something amiss with her.

"Just a bad back baby, daddy will c-come soon and get us. We need to stay in here for now."

She felt her heart calm just a little when Chris started to giggle and clap, he wanted to see Eddie. He thought Eddie would play with him once he got here but (Y/n) would let him think that and deal with the consequences later, as long as it kept him calm and happy.

As soon as Chris shuffled a little bit away from her to dive back into the middle of the pit, (Y/n) picked her phone back up. When Eddie's phone went to voicemail for a second time, she changed to dial 911. They could get hold of him, they would have to because (Y/n) wouldn't let anyone else near her unless they were in the 118 team.

"I- I need help, I'm in the Cromwell play centre a-and my waters broke… I can't move I'm in the ball pit."

"Can you tell me your name and roughly how far along you are? Paramedics are being dispatched to your location."

"No, I need you t-to get…" (Y/n) bowed her head on her forearm and groaned through a contraction. This wasn't fair. "Get the one-eighteen fire station team dispatched here, now. My husband is one of the firemen, Eddie Diaz, I need him here."

***

"Okay everyone, we have a woman in pre-term labour stuck in the ball pit, dispatcher said she was very anxious."

Eddie's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach when he climbed down out the truck and realised where they had parked. He could never make sense of the speakers when a call got announced and Bobby was the one who got the main details of their calls, the rest of them were told on the journey or when they got here like right now.

The play centre. Specifically the one where (Y/n) had brought Chris for a friend's party. Eddie could see her car parked up front and unless it was a very big coincidence that this was the same place his wife was at who wasn't at her due date yet, Eddie couldn't imagine it being anyone else. He knew (Y/n) would be panicking if it was her, she had been over the moon when they said she could have a C-section to reduce any risks.

The plans had changed if this was his wife.

"Mate, what's up?" Buck patted Eddie on the shoulder when he saw he wasn't moving and looked rather pale but Eddie stumbled over to Bobby in a frenzy.

"Cap, cap I think it's my wife. Fuck, if it's (Y/n) Christopher will be here!"

Eddie barely managed to tangle his fingers in his hair before he waved towards Buck and set off into a sprint. He had to calm himself down, he had to find out if this was his family or not and if it wasn't he could breathe deeply and be relieved that their plan could still go ahead.

He could hear Buck close behind him when he rampaged through the doors and towards the reception where one of the staff was waiting for them.

"She's this way,"

They took off in a sprint after the young girl but Eddie could feel his heart rocketing up into his throat, constricting his breathing when he saw Andrea bent down in the path beside the ball pit on the left. It had to be (Y/n) because he could see the utter relief in her eyes when she clocked eyes with him.

"Eddie! (Y/n), love, he's here now." She waved him over and got to her feet, patting his shoulder before she took a step back. Andrea knew (Y/n) had begrudged anyone walking down here to see what was going on, she didn't even want the staff coming to ask if she needed anything.

"Fuck, mi amor it's me I'm here I'm here."

He crouched down to look in and assess the situation but he didn't like what he saw. (Y/n)'s lower half was submerged in the plastic, her arms were folded over on the foam edge and her forehead had been pushed into her arms until she heard his voice. When she rose her head, her face was flushed, covered in sweat and tears and she was breathing in short huffs.

This brought back too many memories for Eddie. He thought they would get peace of mind with this pregnancy, no scares, no frantic worries about labour, no Eddie screaming at the doctor to help his wife and tell him what was wrong with his newborn son.

Before they were told they could have a C-section, Eddie had cradled (Y/n) in his arms one night when she started to cry, worrying what would happen if history repeated itself again.

"Daddy!" His head tilted up and a small creased smile pulled at his lips when he noticed Chris was sat on the foam edge next to (Y/n). He was patting her hair away from her face and kicking his legs out into the sea of plastic.

"Hey bud. We're coming in,"

He rounded the side and leaned forward to climb through the gap and drop down into the ball pit with Buck following behind. Bobby rounded to be in front of the mesh near (Y/n) for reassurance and Chimney waited near the exit to the ball pit for help when they tried to get her out.

"How we doing?" Eddie gritted his teeth as he waded through towards (Y/n), he had done this countless times with Chris but it never felt slower to get through than it did right now.

"You're here! I can't d-do this, we need the hospital," She felt his hands on her shoulders and the light kiss he pressed to her neck.

She knew calling 911 would get him here if he couldn't answer the phone and here he was, right when she needed him. (Y/n) didn't want to do this, she didn't want to be stuck here. She had thought about pre-term labour and she wished that if it happened she would be home with Eddie and still be able to get the C-section. There was no way that was happening now, it was far too late but she wanted to be at the hospital in the very least.

If she started bleeding out there wasn't much the team could do for her and Chris was here, (Y/n) didn't want her baby boy here to see her in pain.

She was just relieved he didn't understand what was happening.

"I'm here, you're fine, we've got this. Chris, bud are you gonna go and stay with Chimney so me and uncle Buck can get mummy out of here?"

"You here to play?" His head tilted to the side and he picked up one of the balls and started to pat it and tap it against his knees. He was assuming someone would get (Y/n) out and then he could play with his dad, he thought Eddie was here to play with him. And it was an added extra that Buck was here too.

"No buddy, no more play."

"Play!"

Chris dropped the ball and went to cross his arms over his chest, the smile slipping from his face when he saw his dad's stern expression. This wasn't the plan, something odd and strange wasn't supposed to happen and Eddie was always supposed to come here and play with him. He didn't want this to go a different way.

"You are not in charge, I am and daddy says you are going to wait with Chimney. Off you go."

There was no time for Chris to argue, Eddie picked him up and turned round to Buck who happily grabbed him and waded over towards the exit where Chimney was waiting with a smile for the little boy. Chris couldn't argue with Eddie and if he tried, Eddie would tell Chimney to put him in a time out. As long as Chris was out the way but cared for and safe, Eddie could keep his focus on (Y/n) and neither of them had to worry about him witnessing anything or hearing anything he shouldn't.

"Do you want to tell me why you're in the ball pit when I specifically told you to take it easy and not follow Chris into the play zone?"

(Y/n) reached her hand out and curled her fingers tightly around Eddie's hand when she felt him press up to her side. His lips smothered the top of her head and his free hand moved to her lower back and when she tilted her head back to look up at him, she tried to smile despite the guilt written across her face.

"He wouldn't come down unless I w-was in here," She could feel his hand tense on her lower back and he shook his head.

"These kids are gonna be the death of me." He muttered quietly while Buck came over to stand on (Y/n)'s other side. "Do you think you can shuffle out of here?"

She nodded, she would do anything to try and get to the hospital, she didn't care what she had to do. (Y/n) would crawl or swim through this stupid ball pit if it got her to a hospital.

"Good girl, Buck you go in front and I'll stay behind,"

"Come on (Y/n), you got this. I'm so pumped to meet my nephew." Buck held his arms out steady and let (Y/n) dig her nails into his lower arms when she turned round. He didn't think he would be around when she had the baby, Buck thought he would be either working and keeping his phone on him ready or he thought he might be looking after Chris. He had offered to take Chris on the evening after the C-section so Eddie could stay with (Y/n).

This turned out more in Buck's favour so he could actually be here when his Godchild was born. And he was so sure it was going to be another boy. The team had placed a few bets on the gender.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie kept his hands on (Y/n)'s hips and stayed close behind her. She leaned forward and pressed her head into Buck's chest and arched her back out. The three of them made a slow shuffle through the ball pit towards Bobby who moved so he was waiting near the exit for them in case they needed another set of hands.

"You ready?" Eddie whispered in her ear when Buck let go of her hands for a moment so he could climb out and stand next to Bobby.

"This won't be graceful,"

Eddie smiled despite himself and shook his head, at least she could make some light of the situation.

"Lean back into me, I'll lift you up."

(Y/n) nodded but kept her eyes tightly closed, she didn't like this one bit. She didn't like anyone but Eddie seeing her in a situation like this when there wasn't a lot of dignity left. As if her friends, Eddie's close friends and coworkers had to see her like this.

She felt Buck and Bobby take one of her hands each and grip her elbows and she let her legs go floppy so her weight was pushed back onto Eddie's chest. He had carried her around hundreds of times even while she was pregnant so she knew she wasn't putting any strain on him but it didn't feel right to do this in public.

She could feel his hands squeeze her hips before they travelled down her bum to grip the back of her thighs and it was comforting when she felt his face tuck into the crook of her neck. He kissed the junction of her shoulder and neck before he slowly lifted up her legs and pushed forward so she was sitting on the ledge. All she had to do was let them ease her forward and she would be out.

"Here we go, steady we got you," Bobby and Buck took her weight and helped her slide down onto her feet but as soon as her feet hit the floor, her knees caved.

(Y/n) coiled her arms to her stomach and dropped down to her knees, leaning forward to push her head into the floor as a horrid groaning scream left her lips morphed with Eddie's name.

"Hospital… w-we need to go- fuck, Eddie!"

"We have to see how far you are before we think about moving you (Y/n), let's get you sat down."

"No, I-" She stopped when she felt Eddie's hands on her waist and he slowly reeled her back up.

"Mi amor, I'm not risking moving you anywhere until we know what this baby is doing. You're safe, we're all here and Cap knows what he's doing." Eddie moved back a little and sank down on his knees before he carefully pulled (Y/n) with him and leaned her backwards. She relaxed in his hold and let herself sink into his firm chest while his arms coiled around her waist so she could grip his arms.

"Buck, grab the medic bag, I'm just gonna have a quick look, okay?" Bobby took off his overcoat and placed it over (Y/n)'s knees that were hunched up. There was no one around but he wanted her to have some sort of dignity.

He knew what everyone was praying for, they all wanted (Y/n) to be one or two centimetres dilated so they could get her in the ambulance and ship her to the maternity ward and have this baby in a hospital. But when Bobby looked up and saw (Y/n) crying out with her hand reached back and clawing at Eddie's shoulder, he wasn't so sure that was the outcome they were going to receive.

(Y/n) didn't have the will to care that Bobby was about to see a more intimate side to her. She didn't care that her leggings and underwear were now around her ankles, she just wanted to go.

"(Y/n)… I'm afraid you're already crowning, this will be the first kid born in a play centre so we need to get you set up." Bobby hid his frown when (Y/n) screamed and Edie tightened his arms around her when she started to sob and her chest heaved. This wasn't fair, but at least the team had gotten here at the right time. She had everyone surrounding her, they would look after her and make sure she and the baby were okay.

"Wow, really?" Buck knelt back down and put the medic bag next to Bobby but when he leaned to look, he found Eddie's hand in his chest shoving him back and (Y/n)'s leg move out towards him.

He was their closest friend, but (Y/n) didn't want him looking until the baby was born. It wasn't exactly an intimate thing the couple wanted to share.

"What-"

"That's my wife!"

"Buck keep a check on (Y/n)'s vitals. Miss, we need towels over here please. (Y/n) I'm sure you know what to do, push on the next contraction."

Buck moved to (Y/n)'s other side and made quick work of checking her blood pressure and he didn't make a face when she clenched his hand in hers and gave a sharp squeeze.

As if she was having her second baby here of all places.

"Fuck! A-am I bleeding?" All of them could hear the panic in (Y/n)'s voice and she tipped her head back on Eddie's shoulder to look up at him with terror in her eyes. She barely managed to crown with Chris before she was bleeding and as soon as he was born after getting stuck, that's when the blood flowed.

Whimpers and sobs bubbled past her lips and she pushed back into Eddie as if she wanted to disappear but he held her tighter and moved his legs so he was sat down instead of kneeling which was making his legs ache. He pulled his knees up and pressed his thighs tightly into (Y/n)'s sides, just like they had been sat when she had Chris.

"You're perfectly fine (Y/n), I promise. Just keep going you're doing great."

"Almost there mi amor, I've got you and cap's got the baby, we're all good. Come on you got this." Eddie whispered in the shell of her ear and tilted his head down a little more when (Y/n) reached her free hand up to cup the back of his neck. A shiver rocketed down his spine when her nails scratched against his skin and the hairs at the back of his neck and he kissed her head when she turned to bury her face in his chest.

His shirt smothered her scream and they both prayed Chris was far away enough not to hear what was going on.

"Head's out, one more push (Y/n)," Bobby grabbed one of the towels from the pile the lady shakily dropped down next to him. He spread it out over his lap and grabbed another one to hold beneath the baby, she was almost done.

"I love you so much," Eddie leaned over (Y/n)'s shoulder and he felt his heart jump into his mouth as he held his breath when she screamed into his chest.

"It's a girl!"

"You've done it mi amor, you've done it."

The brightest smile (Y/n) had ever seen lit up Eddie's face and she could feel his tears falling down onto her skin. Her head felt fuzzy and her body was trembling in his arms which he was soaking up and he held her so tightly she felt comforted and protected.

"Fuck (Y/n), well done! You've lost me the bet though," Buck rubbed his hand up and down her arm, smiling brightly as he looked across at Bobby. He gently let go of (Y/n)'s hand, seeing her grab Eddie's arm for reassurance before Buck grabbed the clamps and cutters from the bag to hand across to Bobby.

"Here's your daughter," Bobby carefully placed the small bundle into (Y/n)'s shaking arms and laid her on her chest.

She trembled so much Eddie had to move his arms and coil them around hers with his hands resting on top of (Y/n)'s to keep their daughter stable on her chest. Eddie brushed a finger across the newborn's cheek and despite the chuckle he let out, he moved to kiss (Y/n)'s cheek repeatedly. This wasn't how they were expecting to have their daughter, but it had gone much better than Chris's untimely birth.

"S-she's here," (Y/n) brushed her nose against Eddie's cheek and kissed him shakily.

"She couldn't wait to meet us."

#eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz x reader #eddie x reader #imagines #pregnant! reader #pregnancy #evan buckley #bobby nash #911 imagine #911 fox #911

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