#they don’t have time to fix every problem this couple is having

[cherry-leclerc]

can’t you see ☆ mv1

genre: redbull!driver, enemies to lovers, smut, lando and danny playing cupid lol, protective!max (although he won’t admit it), mean!max, sub!max, dom!reader

word count: 3.2k

In between your mutual dislike with your teammate, Lando and Daniel try their best to make you and Max uncover some hidden feelings.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, riding, sucking on fingers

req!...quick one, but ahh first maxie drabble. eekk :)

“What a fucking asshole.”

Daniel’s eyes bulge out as he hands you a cup of coffee. It had been an extremely long day. Perhaps not the best idea to keep it going, but it seemed like the FIA didn’t give a shit about that. You were past being upset. You were seething. 

“Uh…Yeah. I mean I get it. I’m tired, too. This red flag came at the worst time-”

Briskly, you take the cup from him, cutting him off. “It’s not the red flag, it’s Max.” Ever since you joined Formula 1 as the first female to drive for Red Bull, you had felt welcomed by everyone. Everyone but your actual teammate. You had thought maybe it was because he had small balls and couldn’t handle the fact that you were driving alongside him, but when you confronted him about it, he only growled. 

As if you would ever cross my fucking mind.

Squinting, you point accusingly at the Australian. “You ought to stop being his friend.” He loudly laughs as he throws his head back. 

“You say that every time.”

Making a face, you shoot back. “And you never choose!”

“You’re both my friends. No one is winning custody.” 

“You’re older than both of us combined.”

“Hey!”

Hey, a low voice replies. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. A shiver runs down your spine. Max leans up against the nearest wall as he ignores you and keeps his eyes on his friend. You wave your hand up in front of him a couple of times for good measure before your mouth drops open when he acts as if you were Casper the Friendly Ghost. 

“We were just talking abou- Ouch!” Daniel shrieks in pain when you pinch him. Faking a smile, you turn to the Dutchman. We were actually in the middle of something here. Nothing. He just keeps looking past you. Running a hand through his hair, he starts talking about how this all ‘ruined my flow’ and how he was going to have to ‘try to fix the FIA’s mistakes’. You have to laugh.

“Is something funny to you?”

You look around the room as you theatrically shudder. Sipping on the hot beverage, you hum and close your eyes. Max clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he crosses his arms in frustration. Cold weather, Danny. Do you think there’s a place nearby that sells homemade chicken soup?

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“If we find one, then maybe we can invite Lando and-” Suddenly, he reaches out for your cup and hot drops hit your hand. You hiss in pain. “What’s your problem, dickhead?”

Now, a normal reaction would be to be a decent human being and apologize. Offer up their own cup of coffee, perhaps. Not Max. Throwing it into the nearest trash bin, he turns to you. And he actually has the audacity to look upset.

“Why didn’t you let me overtake you? I don’t know if you don’t know this because you’re new or something like that, but here, when we are instructed to do something - we do it.”

Narrowing your eyes, you step closer. “So what? I don’t let you by one time and suddenly I’m the bad guy? Let me remind you that that’s all I’ve done for you this season.”

“Maybe when you’re someone’s number one driver then you won’t have to do shit like this, but until then,” he angles himself lower to you, “...It kinda looks like you have to.”

“Oh. No.” Daniel winces as he sips quietly on his hot drink. He can physically see your wheels turning as you glare back at the Dutchman. Your cheeks have turned light pink as you refrain yourself from yelling in front of all the Alpha Tauri engineers. Max scrunches his nose.

“Cute.”

You’re about to explode and let all hell loose, but just then, the red flag is over. Huffing, you grab your helmet as you walk away without sparing a single goodbye. Daniel frowns. “You need to stop treating her like that.” Max scoffs. Treating her how? The Australian inches closer as he lays a large hand on his friend's shoulder. “Like you don’t care.”

As soon as the race picks back up, you’re in the zone. You have to work twice as hard to overtake anyone in your way, considering most drivers were on new tires, but eventually you worked your way through. Drops of rain hit your visor as you slow down in sector 2. 

“Should I be worried about the rain?”

“Nothing to be worried about, just keep it up.”

You nod, even though Christian can’t see you. As you get closer, you can see Max’s rear wing. He’s fast - zooming, almost - but that only made you want it even more. Defend. I repeat, defend for a 1-2 finish. “Yeah. No.” Entering the DRS zone, you press down on the throttle as you try all tactics to catch up with the 3x World Champion. Fat drops of water hit the Red Bull as you squint in order to not get lost with the commotion. What are you doing? Defend. “I am defending.” You press harder. “Except I’m defending my spot. Not his.”

It’s almost as if he knows what you’re about to do. Quickly, he scans his sideview mirror as he curses when he sees  that you weren’t slowing down. It looks like the two Red Bulls are going head-to-head! Probably not the best idea at the moment considering the tough weather, Crofty announces. Passing Max by, you can’t help but cheer as you try to imagine his reaction. 

“Not what we were picturing, but very well executed. He will be defending now.”

It wasn’t planned to get stung by a boiling hot coffee, of course it wasn’t, despite the bickering between you two. It wasn’t planned to take time to scratch your burnt hand. And it most definitely was not planned to crash.

Plunging into the wall, you groan, curses flowing past your lips. Are you okay? “Yes. I’m okay.” Lifting your visor, you shyly wave at the grandstands. Would you mind going over to check on Max? He’s currently not responding. Your heart stops. Jumping off your seat, you climb out of your car as you turn and sure enough, Max’s Red Bull is ruined. 

“Are you alright?”

Throwing a thumbs up, he lifts himself out of his car to wave at the fans. He turns to you, dark blue helmet still over his head. “What the fuck was that all about?” You narrow your eyes.

“What do you mean? I got an itch.” And though he wears his helmet, you can’t help but notice the crinkles by his eyes. Your stomach flips. It's because of the crash. That’s all it is. You clear your throat. “What happened to you? You were driving well.” Professionally, he slides his gloves off as he waves over at the safety car.

“I had to check on you one way or another, right?”

Dumbfounded, you're faced with his back as he walks away.

-

“He’s into you, can’t you see it!”

“No. Jesus, don’t even say that.” Lando raises his brows as he throws his legs on top of your bed. Daniel hums from underneath the covers. He’s right, though. Pulling the sheets off, you scowl. “Don’t give me reasons to kick you both out.” Throwing yourself onto the mattress, you smile widely. “Soooo, what’s new?”

It’s all you three are ever good for. Pure gossip. Chewing hard on a piece of pizza, you gag. Daniel cackles as he reaches for the last slice. Hey! What if I wanted that? He cocks his head. Fine, you mumble.

“All I wanted was a warm soup.”

A gentle knock echoes through the room as you all turn to face it. Go and open it, Daniel hisses. Wha- No! You go open it, Lando whispers back. Bunch of babies, you murmur as you untangle yourself from your blanket. Swinging the door open, you freeze. Standing tall is Max with a paper bag at  hand.

“Hey.”

Peeking out into the hallway, you stare back confused. “Hey?”

Almost timidly, he kicks his feet up against the wall with a small smile. He extends his arm out, signaling for you to take the mysterious bag. I don’t want any problems, you choke out, feeling skeptical. His blue eyes grow wide.

“Oh. No, don’t worry!” He opens the bag and takes out a small container. Leaning forward, you feel blood rising up to your cheeks. “It’s just soup.”

After an awkward exchange, he leaves. Inhaling the delicious scent, you let out a dreamy sigh.

“He so likes her.”

-

“We might have been wrong.”

Lando tilts his head, curly strands bouncing at the motion. Daniel hurriedly takes a seat next to the Brit as he smacks his large hands on the table. “What do you mean, mate?”

Daniel scans the room quickly before shaking his head. “I mean, that I just heard them two. They were going at it.” Lando blushes as he lets out an awkward laugh. I don’t even want to know. The Australian bites back a smile as he continues. “Not like that. Yet. What I mean is that they’re back to square one. He’s being a complete dick.”

“Alright. Looks like we have to knock some sense into him.”

-

Go, Daniel mouths once Max enters the debrief room, eyes entertained on his phone screen. Pushing past the Dutch, Charles jogs over to where you sit next to George. “Hey!” Greeting him back with a warm smile, you pat to the open seat. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite after this. Maybe some chicken soup?” You beam.

“I love a good soup!”

Rapidly, Max’s ears perk up as he hears your conversation with the Monegasque. He was well over the rivalry, but with this? He would not second guess bringing it back. He clenches his jaw as he notices you nodding along with Charles. Strolling over to the small group, he shoots a bitter grin.

“Did you see Christian’s message about our last minute meeting?”

“Hello to you, too.” Checking your phone, you look back confused with a pout. “No. I haven't received anything.”

“Yeah, well, there’s one-”

“No, there's not.” Flickering your eyes behind your teammate, you’re even more lost. With hands on his hips, Christian taps his shoe as his eyes flicker between his two Red Bull drivers. “Don’t mind him, sweetheart. There’s no meeting.” He sends a small wink at Charles before walking off to the rest of the team principles. Max slumps.

“Ha. Guess it got canceled or something like that…”

Rushing over Lando and Daniel, Charles hunches over as he starts blabbering. “Did it work? Please tell me it worked - God - I think I almost shit myself. Tell me it fucking wo-”

The Brit points discreetly to where Max paces the room, orbs trained on you like a guard dog.

“It’s definitely working.”

He smacks a one hundred dollar bill onto a large hand. 

“And thank you for the help, too, Mr. Horner.”

-

Despite the attempts to get you and Max together, nothing seemed to work. The blue eyed boy would appear to start registering his feelings, and at the last minute, would completely chicken out. It would be an outright lie to say that this didn’t entertain the Alpha Tauri and McLaren boys, but they also knew that they had to continue their fairy godparent duties.

“Watch it!”

Crashing onto the couch inside of the Red Bull Hospitality, Max’s face bounces against it. He groans in pain before throwing a harsh stare at his friends. Lando stiffles a giggle as Daniel raises his arms up in defense. Getting seated, the Dutch looks back with a sour expression. 

“What’s this hostile situation about?”

Lando panics as he turns to his mate. The Aussie licks his lips, patting his lap. “Look, we’ve noticed a few things-” What things? He huffs. “Maybe if you would just let me finish-” That’s what she said! He glares at Lando who slaps a hand over his mouth, tears from unreleased laughter painting his blue eyes. “As I was saying…We’ve noticed your behavior towards a special little someone…”

“Towards Heidi? Shit. I didn’t think it’d be that noticeable.”

Lando clicks his fingers rapidly before pointing at the Red Bull driver. “He’s trying to not talk about it because he knows where this is going!” No, I’m not, Max shrieks as his voice cracks. Blushing, he pushes his hat lower to his face.

“You like her!”

“You know I like Heidi! She’s good for you-”

“You know that’s not who we’re talking about.”

It’s silent for a while. Standing up, Daniel goes to sit next to the 26 year old. Running a hand over his face, Max’s sighs as he looks up. “I’m not…used to feeling this way, okay?” 

“That’s totally fine, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat her like a piece of gum stuck at the bottom of your shoe. She’s amazing. Could have anyone - and I mean anyone - but she likes you. I don’t know why or how, but she likes you.” Daniel scoots away when Max narrows his eyes.

“She doesn’t like me.”

Jumping over the coffee table, Lando plops down. “Yes! She does. Ask me how I know.” A bored expression slashes Max’s face as he asks anyway. How, Lando? How do you know? “Because she’s always fighting with you.”

Daniel clicks his tongue as he slowly squints his brown eyes. “I don’t think you’re making the point you think you’re making, mate.” The Brit waves him off.

“I’m dead serious. When she gets upset, she always walks away because she claims to not want to waste her time on stupid arguments. But with you,” he pushes his index finger against the Red Bull polo, “With you she never - ever - walks away. Sure, you’re both at each others throats, but that only means one thing.” He leans against the sofa as he takes a sip of the open energy drink. 

“She doesn’t mind wasting time on you.”

-

After some more convincing, the duo had managed to raise the 26 year olds confidence. They could be wrong. Embarrassingly wrong, but how would he ever know if he never tried? Taking in a deep breath, he finds himself knocking on your door.

“More soup?”

Sheepishly, he shakes his head. His heart skips a beat as he notices how laid back you seem. How relaxed you were. He was going to ruin all that. He was going to say something that would change everything and things might never be the sa-

“Wanna come in?”

Handing him a plate of cut up watermelon, you take a seat in front of him, legs tucked beneath your butt. What are you doing out so late at night, Mr. Max Verstappen? He sets the plate down as he forces himself to mold into his chair. 

“I’ve never hated you.”

You blink. Clearing his throat, he looks down to his lap as he fiddles his fingers. “I know I’ve been such a bad teammate - I know - but I promise that it never had to do with you.”

“Okay. So…then what did it have to do with?”

He lets out a croaky laugh as he shuts his eyes. “That’s the tough part…” Opening his blue eyes, he finds you staring back, waiting for an answer. “I feel the opposite of hate…towards you.” He hates the way your face doesn’t change and you remain still. He hates when you shrink back and chew on your lip.

But he could never find himself hating the moment you climb onto his lap.

“T-that’s not what I came here for-”

“I know.” You slide your hands against his stubble. “Your confession was…adorable. Had trouble saying those words out loud, right? Because you,” you strum your finger against his chest, “...You don’t have feelings. You don’t have a heart.”

Now he’s frowning as he tries to unravel your words. A giggle bubbles up your throat, eyes crinkling shut. His breath hitches. “I feel things…” Your heart twirls with the way his voice sounds. Sure you do, Maxie- 

Grabbing your face with his left hand, he kisses you. It’s hot, feverish, and impatient.

It’s him.

Whimpering, you grind against him as he groans underneath you. Forcing himself to pull away from your warm lips, he cocks his head to the side. “Was that enough proof?”

“I might need more.”

It’s such a moment of pure adrenaline, that you can’t even pinpoint the moment your hatred towards him had turned into lust. All you know is that it felt so good to be riding him. Squeezing your hips, he lifts you up as he lets out a strained moan. The sound itself makes you drip even more. 

You had always loved his voice. How croaky it was. But you never imagined that it would turn your entire world upside down to hear him moaning your name like a prayer. Oh, fuck. Holy shit. Pushing his hands down, he opens his eyes as he looks back, weak and concerned. He worries you might have suddenly regretted all of this. That you would walk away and never want to talk to him ever again. But he’s already kissed you. He’s already been inside of you. 

He would beg you to stay in order to make you keep it that way.

“B-baby.” He whimpers with the way you dig yourself against him before circling your hips. Slow. “It’s okay if you want to stop-” You slide his fingers into your mouth. He swears he could finish with such a pretty sight.

“I don’t want to. I just want you to say sorry for everything you’ve ever done to me.”

“I already said I never meant any of it! You’re absolutely everything to me.”

Your core grows tighter with his affirmations. Holding onto his broad shoulders, you continue your sinister rhythm. “Maybe. But I still want one.”

“I’m so-”

Rubbing your bare tits against his chest, he shudders as he harshly pinches your thigh. Try again. “I said I’m so-” Pulling all the way out, you slide back down onto his cock. “Oh - don’t fucking do that.”

“Try again.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry.”

A satisfied smile slides onto your plump lips as you nod before kissing him and riding him the way you know he deserves. With one last hop, you both finish as he moans into your neck. Your fingers push his sweaty, blondish strands away before pressing your lips against his cheek. He smiles weakly.

“I like you, too.” You look down before returning your attention. “But I can’t be with you.”

“Wh-”

“Max. Let’s be realistic here. I’m a girl in Formula 1. You don’t know how hard I’ve worked to get here. I’ve had to do twice the work simply because I’m not a man.” You roll your eyes. “People are going to hate me. Call me names - God, I can already hear them.”

He never thought his heart could actually hurt for someone. You were really messing him up. He gingerly rubs small circles against your cheek.

“I’ll ruin whoever says anything bad about you, but please give this a chance. I’ve never wanted someone as bad as I do you. Please.”

And yes, there will be nasty comments. Hateful interpretations about your relationship. But that never really mattered as long as you had him. 

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #max verstappen drabble #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen smut #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #max verstappen angst #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc drabble #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagine #max verstappen #lando norris smut #lando norris #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 x female reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fluff #charles leclerc fluff #carlos sainz fluff #lando norris fluff #daniel ricciardo fluff #max verstappen fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic

[f1goat]

more than friends ; lando norris + part six

In which your best friend is going to help you to gain more sexual experience and say goodbye to your insecurities, but he's quick to discover that he never wants to share you and your new experiences with others - the only problem being, him having to confess his feelings.

masterlist - playlist

fem!y/n x lando norris

warnings: smut with a plot. minors dni! probably grammar or spelling errors due to english not being my first language.

requested: yes, based on this request: something with a driver sister that’s still a virgin & lando (her bestfriend) suggests to teach her things

a/n: this is a rewritten story, you can find the explanation on my profile

part one / part two / part three / part four / part five

The dinner is going on and on. Normally you really like the dinners with the McLaren team, but tonight you can’t seem to focus on anything that’s happening around you. Lando isn’t seated close to you like normal, you don’t know how it happened but there is a couple seats between you. It causes you to stare at him all the time. Oscar however is sitting next to you. He’s nice and polite, but the both of you are a bit shy. Something that causes the conversation to go not as smooth as when Lando is with you. You couldn’t stop yourself and drank a bit more then you’d normally do. You try to talk it right for yourself, but all your excuses are around Lando. Instead of doing the wise thing and order a water or a soda, you order another cocktail when the waiter asks you for your drink order. Oops?

You don’t know what’s going on with you. Since you have arrived in the restaurant, you have been feeling vague. At first it was just because Lando was seated a bit far away from you, but eventually something else happened what causes you to feel like this. Maybe vague isn’t the right word, but you can’t confess the right word. That would make things so much worse. 

The weird, unsettling feeling in your stomach and head started when Lando started to talk with another girl. You don’t know her personally and you haven’t seen her around before. Nothing too weird since McLaren is growing rather fast and hires a lot of new employees quite often. If she’s from McLaren, you don’t know for sure. Lando is talking and laughing with her, it causes you to feel terrible. Every time he lets out a laugh, you feel yourself getting jealous. 

Oscar sends you a confused look when you take a big gulp from the cocktail the waiter just brought you. He seems even more confused when he looks at his own glass, which is still half full and was order a round earlier. You can only hope that Oscar doesn’t say anything about it, but you’re quick to let go of that hope when Oscar starts to talk. 

“Everything okay?” He asks you.

You show him a simple nod as a reply. 

“Do you want me to switch places with Lando?” He asks you with a small smile, “I understand if I’m a bit boring tonight, but I’m exhausted from the race.”

“Oh no,” you quickly state, “I’m also pretty tired, so I’m not the most fun person tonight as well. And I can’t focus on anything right now.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re drinking quite a lot for someone who wants to focus?” Oscar jokes.

You let out a soft laugh. “You’re right,” you agree with him, “Don’t even know why.”

“Maybe because of the girl who’s flirting with Lando?” Oscar says without even a single doubt. Are you that obvious? Fuck. Before you can say anything to Oscar - not that you know what, are you going to lie to him or confess? Oscar is already talking again, but this time softer. “Let me help you. Just follow my lead and this is fixed in only minutes.” 

You show Oscar a confused look, but still nod at his words. Oscar says a loud hi to someone who’s sitting next to you, quickly starting a conversation with him. You look at what he’s doing, but you still have no idea how it will help you right now. 

“Did you already meet Y/N?” Oscar suddenly asks the guy. The guy shakes his head. “Really?” Oscar asks confused, “This is her, you should really get to know her.” In only seconds the guy is shaking your hand and introducing himself as Pedro. You introduce yourself as well. A small conversation is started rather quickly. Pedro is pretty interested into you, Oscar is quickly fading to the background of the conversation. You try to keep him into it as well, but Pedro keeps focussing on you. 

“We should totally dance together at the club later!” Pedro tells you full enthusiasm, you chuckle and tell him that you’re a terrible dancer. Something he doesn’t seem to care about. Conversations with him are pretty easy, before you know it he talks about how he got by McLaren recently and what he does. It seems that he’s involved in Lando his trainings, helping the team with making a better rhythm for your friend and assisting his main trainer John when it’s needed. 

“I can teach you how to dance later tonight,” Pedro tells you with a smile. It sounds a bit suggestive now that you think about it. Before you can realize, you see Lando coming closer to you. He presses a kiss against your cheek. You almost jump up when he does, since when are you doing this in public as well? 

“Hi babygirl,” Lando softly greets you. 

Pedro sends you an embarrassed look. Before he can say anything, Lando greets his shortly as well. “Pedro,” he simply says with a small nod to the guy. You don’t know if you’re right, but Lando his tone seemed different when he greeted Pedro. It almost sounded annoyed. When you look at Oscar and he shows you a grin, you realize that this was his plan all the time.

“Sorry Lando, didn’t know you two are a thing,” Pedro quickly says, he stands up and walks away after saying so. The words to deny it are still laying on your tongue. Lando is quick to take Pedro his seat next to you. You show him a confused look. What did just happen? Why didn’t Lando deny it?

“Sooo, the two of you are a thing?” Oscar asks his teammate with a small smirk on his face. He knew exactly what he was doing by letting you meet Pedro. You send him an annoyed look, but don’t say anything. Lando can fix this. He acted this strange. “We’re not dating,” Lando states.

“Oh then why did you kiss her cheek and call her babygirl?” Oscar asks.

“It’s just the alcohol,” Lando mutters. 

Oscar laughs. He doesn’t believe the tiniest bit of it. Lando makes things even worse for himself by grabbing you on a soft way by the shoulders and pulling your body onto his. You show him a confused look, but then you allow your body to lean onto Lando. His hand find yours, he plays with your fingers before interlocking them with his own. 

“And that’s the alcohol as well?” Oscars asks while laughing.

“Fuck off mate,” Lando sighs.

“Weren’t you talking with that other girl?” You can’t help yourself and ask Lando. When you look around and let your gaze wander to where Lando was sitting before, you notice that the girl is already looking at Lando and you. You quickly look away from her, feeling uncomfortable with the stare. 

“Which girl?” Lando asks you. “The one who’s looking at us,” you reply.

“Oh, her,” he says, “She’s a bit too interested to be honest. So smile at me and act like you love me,” he continues to joke. You do what he says, you press a small kiss against Lando his cheek. You don’t even have to act like you love him. You know all to well that it’s not an act. It has never been an act. 

+++

When you’re finally in the club, you’re quick to find the dance floor. You’re dancing for fun with a couple of McLaren team members. Lando has find a place on the sidelines where he can focus all his attention on you. He laughs when you almost bump into another girl. Oscar has found a place next to his teammate. The words Oscar is saying aren’t landing by Lando, he’s way too focused on you. 

He’s completely focused on you and the dress you’re wearing. The dress has been on his mind for the whole evening. It’s unfair how good you look in it. It causes him to want to spread your legs for him so he can pull out another orgasm from you. Or for you to drop on your knees, so he can fuck your mouth and finally can get rid from the sexual tension that has been hanging around him since his podium. Or just your hand firmly around his boner to give him his release. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t care how it happens as long as there happens something. And the best would be if you were just close to him, showing everyone that the beautiful girl on the dance floor belongs to him. Only you don’t. It causes him to have a headache. Why aren’t you his? He really needs to change this.

“There’s really nothing going on between Y/N and you?” Oscar asks Lando.

“No,” Lando quickly states.

“So you won’t mind if my friend asks her on a date?” Oscar continues to ask, “Since you acted a bit weird with Pedro giving her attention..”

Lando doesn’t even react to the question, he can only focus on one thing. “Who?” He asks. His head is filling up with all kind of questions. Which friend from Oscar wants to date you? Would you date that friend as well? He lets out a sigh. This is the worst.

“Logan.”

Logan? Does Logan even know you? Do you even know Logan? Lando starts to wonder if he ever saw the two of you talking. Would you say yes to Logan if he asks you on a date? Fuck. Why didn’t he thought about this before. Of course there’s someone interested in you. 

“Do they even know each other?” Lando sneers. He can’t help himself.

“Kinda,” Oscar shrugs, “they talked a couple races ago when Logan DNF’ed. She made him feel a lot better about it.” 

“Fuck,” Lando sighs. He can’t hold the words back anymore. “Fuuck.”

Oscar laughs. “That says enough, don’t you think?” 

“No,” Lando quickly mutters, “I mean if he wants to he should, you know. It’s up to Y/N what she says.”

This time it’s Oscar who lets out a sigh. “Lando just be honest, you like her so you don’t want anyone else to date her. Why aren’t you telling her that?”

Lando doesn’t answer to that question. He wachtes you dance and sip from your drink. When he watches the people around you, it’s not surprising to him how many guys are doing the same as him. Watching you. He’s quick to realize that Logan, or Pedro, aren’t the problem. There’s always someone who would want to date you. The problem is always that you aren’t his. How is he ever going to fix this mess? What if you meet someone who you want to date? Someone who can offer you anything you want? Like being always there for you instead of needing you to travel across the world with them? What if he loses you want you start to date someone else? Lando can’t stand by the sidelines while watching you have a relationship with someone else. Right? He would lose his mind. 

It doesn’t even surprise Lando when he sees Logan coming closer to you. He sighs. It’s pretty normal that after a race a lot of the drivers are clubbing, so he isn’t surprised that Logan is her as well. But still, it stings. It’s stings even more when you greet Logan with a hug before talking to him full with enthusiasm. He wachtes away. He can’t see this. 

“You’re an idiot,” Oscar sighs when he notices the way Lando looks away from you for the first time that evening.

“I know,” Lando mutters, “and you don’t even know the worst parts.”

“Worst parts?” Oscar asks curiously. 

Lando knows that everything that’s happening between you two is a secret, but he also knows that Oscar will keep it that way. Right now he really can use some advise from someone. Oscar can probably give him some, he even has a great relationship. Lando stops questioning it and starts to confess to Oscar. This must be because of the alcohol, otherwise he would have thought about it longer.

“The short version is that we’re fucking,” Lando confesses, “or not really fucking, but doing a lot of other sexual stuff. Probably fucking soon.”

Oscar almost drops his drink. Then he lets out a loud laugh. “And you’re still doubting if she wants you?” He asks. “Fuck man, you’re stupid. Why would she do those things with you without being interested into you?”

“Because she wants sexual experience,” Lando explains.

“But still, why with you? There were probably enough others who wanted to help.”

“I offered,” Lando states.

“Same question, why did she chose you?” 

Lando doesn’t reply at first. He watches Logan and you again. The two of you are dancing. Logan looks if he tries to get as close to you as he can manage. Fuck, that should be him. Lando curses himself, he should have make sure that he was on the dance floor with you. Embarrassing himself, but having fun with you. 

“I don’t know why with me, probably because I offered and she didn’t have to contact others to ask. She’s embarrassed about her experience, so she probably wants to keep it a secret,” he explains to Oscar.

“Lando she won’t be doing this with you if there wasn’t some sort of interest,” Oscar quickly states.

Lando just shakes his head to disagree. He focuses on Logan and you again. There’s still a lot of dancing happening and it’s getting more closer with the second. He can’t watch this anymore. Without saying anything else to Oscar he starts to walk towards Logan and you. He hasn’t even a plan, but he needs to do something abut this. Oscar lets out a laugh when he notices the way Lando is walking towards you. He didn’t tell his teammate that he told Logan before that it would be dumb to ask you onto a date, since you’re too close with Lando. Oscar believes that Lando needs a push and this could be exactly the push Lando would have needed. And who is he to not give his teammate that much needed push?

It doesn’t take Lando long before he stands in front of you. You stop dancing to focus on him. What’s Lando doing? Logan also stops dancing and wait for what’s going to happen. Oscar already warned him for this, but he still wanted to try. “Can we go back to the hotel?” Lando asks you. 

He notices that Logan takes a bit more distance from you. Something he’s glad abut. You look worried at Lando. 

“Back to the hotel?” You ask him, “What’s going on?”

“I’m not feeling well,” Lando lies. Although he doesn’t feel well, but that can be easily fixed if every guy would leave you alone. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask him worried. 

“Just a bit too much alcohol,” Lando continues to lie. He can’t confess that he isn’t feeling well because of the attention every boy is giving you tonight. You send Lando another worried look and get closer to him. 

“Let’s go back to the hotel then,” you tell Lando. 

“Sorry if I’m ruining your night right now,” Lando says apologetic. He almost feels ashamed of himself for acting like this, but he can’t help it. He needs you for himself right now. He wants nothing more then to lay in bed with you right now and to cuddle up against you, instead of worrying about every guy around you. 

“It’s fine Lan,” you quickly say. 

Then Logan starts to meddle in the conversation. He sounds a bit unsure when he talks, a bit nervous even, “I can also bring you back to the hotel?” He suggests, “If you want to stay longer of course.”

“That’s really sweet of you Logan,” you say. Before you can say anything else Lando is talking as well. He feels himself getting more frustrated. Who does Logan think he is by suggesting this? He doesn’t even think about his next actions. He just acts. Word are quickly leaving his mouth. 

“We share the room and I only have one pass,” he states with a harsh undertone in his voice, “so you can’t.”

You look confused at Lando. Why is he acting like this? Doesn’t he notice that Logan is trying to help? Why is he this rude? Since when can Lando even act like this? You don’t know this side of him. 

“Oh sorry I didn’t know,” Logan quickly says, “I just wanted to help.”

You feel ashamed when Lando continues to talk. “That’s unnecessary,” he states. You quickly take a step closer to Logan, you don’t realize that it causes you to stand in front of Lando while doing so. Lando on the other hand is quick to notice. 

“It’s really sweet of you Logan,” you say, “but I’ll get back with Lando. Enjoy the rest of your night.” To give your words a bit more power, you give Logan a quick hug. When Lando sees your action he almost loses his mind. He feels like the most childish person when he grabs your hand and drags you away with him. He doesn’t take the time to say goodbye to anyone, he just needs to get you into the car with him. When he is outside the club, he starts to feel more ashamed for his actions. He barely dares to look at you. What are you thinking about him right now? You are probably really annoyed with him. And he gets it.

“What’s wrong with you Lan?” You ask confused, Lando is just happy that you still use the nickname for him. “Logan only tried to help.”

Lando doesn’t reply at first. He lets out a small scoff. Of course you’re dragging Logan into this as well. 

“You acted really rude,” you tell him annoyed.

“Of course side with Logan,” Lando sighs, “give me an even bigger headache right now.”

You let out a sigh. “You’re acting crazy,” you state frustrated. 

Lando doesn’t reply anymore. He’s glad when the taxi is standing in front of him. He opens your car door and walks towards the other side to take place himself. He knows that you’re right, but he really doesn’t want to confess that right now. Unsure he grabs your hand and interlaces his fingers with yours. He smiles when he notices that you aren’t pulling away from him, but even give him a small squeeze. 

After a short taxi ride, Lando and you are quick to find your way back into the hotel. When standing in the room, you change your outfit. The dress from before quickly lands onto the floor and is replaced by a shirt from Lando. Lando can only focus on you walking around in his shirt with only a thong underneath. He wants nothing more then to hold you right now. Maybe remind you of your earlier promise, he still has an awful hard dick that can use some help. 

You on the other hand are thinking about other things. One of them being Logan. “You should apologize to Logan,” you softly tell Lando after a comfortable silence, “He only tried to help us.”

“He tried to get in your pants,” Lando scoffs annoyed. The frustrated feeling of before is coming back rather quickly. Why are you starting about Logan again? He wonders if you really don’t realize that Logan only wanted to bring you back to the hotel so he could get more from you? 

“Lan,” you sigh annoyed, “now you’re just exaggerating.”

“I’m not,” Lando quickly replies.

You let out a big sigh and take a seat onto the bed. Lando is already laying in it. “You are,” you tell him while sending you an angry glance, “not everyone who’s nice to me is trying to get in my pants.”

“But he was,” Lando exclaims with a raised voice. 

“Why?” You ask.

“Because Oscar told me he wants to date you,” Lando confesses.

“So?” You ask, “That doesn’t mean he wants to fuck me.”

“Y/N,” Lando sighs, “just believe me on this one.”

“Even if he is, why do you care?” You eventually ask Lando, you’re done with this conversation but it doesn’t seem to be even close to ending. You can’t help yourself from questioning it. Why does it seem like Lando cares this much about Logan wanting to date you and maybe wanting to have sex with you? It gives you a tiny bit of hope that Lando might return your feelings. Could that be possible? Is he just acting jealous? It almost seems so. 

“I uh,” Lando stutters a bit, he doesn’t know what to say. “I uh, I just want to be sure that your first is with someone who cares about you,” he says after a bit of stuttering. That is a good reason, right? 

“Are you afraid you won’t be my first anymore?” You ask Lando confused. 

Lando doesn’t know what to answer. He realizes that you’re right. He is afraid that things will change and that you don’t want - and need - him anymore. He really wants to be your first. “Maybe,” he confesses eventually. 

“Don’t,” you tell Lando. 

“Don’t?” He asks confused.

“You’ll still be my first,” you tell Lando, “I trust you and I want it to be with you. But..”

“But?” Lando asks. 

“But you still need to apologize to Logan, otherwise I will find someone else,” you joke.

“Fucking hell,” Lando mutters annoyed. He grabs his phone from his nightstand. You lay down on the bed next to him in the mean time. You get yourself close to Lando, you lay your head on his chest. Lando plays with your hair while scrolling in his phone, you watch the screen with him. You see Lando searching for Logan’s contact. When he finds him, he’s quick to type a message. 

Lando: Hey Logan. Sorry for my behavior tonight. It was rude, I understand now that you were only trying to help. Sorry.

You smile when Lando hits send. What the both of you don’t know is that Logan and Oscar are reading the message right now together. “I told you so,” Oscar tells Logan, “She has him all wrapped around her finger.”

When Lando puts his phone away, he is quick to focus his attention back on you. He doesn’t have to do anything to get your attention as well. You’re quick to move closer to him and press your lips onto his. The kiss was meant innocent, but Lando is quick to turn it into a make out session. 

“Fuck babygirl,” he mutters, “I’ve been so fucking turned on the whole night because of you.” 

You look at Lando. All the annoyed, mad feelings from before have melted away like snow for the sun. He grabs you and moves you on top of him. When you’re sitting on his lip, you feel his boner pressing on your body. 

“Can’t get the taste of you out if my system,” he continues to say, “Have been thinking about all the things you can do to me all night. All the ways you can make me cum. Fuck.”

You grind your ass on Lando his lap. “You like that don’t you?” Lando asks you, “When I talk dirty to you.” You show him a nod. “My dirty girl,” Lando continues to speak. His words cause you to grind on his crotch again. You feel the pressure from his boner sliding on your pussy. Fuck that feels good. 

“I need you to do something about it,” Lando groans when you take his boner into your hands. You won’t let him say that twice to you. Without giving it a second thought, you unclasp Lando his belt. Within seconds you pull down his pants and boxers. His boner springs free. When you take his boner into your hand and slowly stroke it. Your small movements cause Lando to let out a soft relieved moan. 

You try to remember what Lando likes. After a few firm strokes, you move down your head towards Lando his member. You place a few small licks around the top, making it wet. After that you carefully take his boner in your mouth. Slowly bobbing your head while sucking harshly on it. You use one of your hands to stroke the bit of his dick that doesn’t fit in your mouth. 

Lando sees the way you subtle move your head a couple times to remove the hair from coming in your sight. He lets out a low chuckle. Then he grabs your hair with one of his hands. Pulling it behind your head in a ponytail and keeping it in his hand like that. You increase your pace a bit. 

“Babygirl,” Lando suddenly says, “I’m going to give you a pace, but if it’s not okay you need to let me know. Okay?”

You remove your mouth from his boner only to tell Lando yes. When your mouth is back around his dick, Lando firms his grip on your hair. Slowly he shows you what he means. He softly pushes and pulls to make you get on his pace. He lets out a loud moan. “Fucking hell baby.”

Slowly you use your other hand to explore Lando his dick a bit more. Eventually you let your hand find Lando his balls. You use your finger to trace over them. For Lando this is a bit new as well, he always knew it would feel good but former girlfriends weren’t interested in it. He loves the way you doing things like this out of yourself. He doesn’t need to ask, you just explore the exact same things as he wants. When he feels your hand form around his balls and softly squeeze them, he lets out the hardest moan so far. It feels insanely good. 

You continue doing the same over again. It doesn’t take Lando long before he feels his balls getting a bit more tight. He lets out multiple moans before one hard grunts leaves his lips. It says enough to you. Lando his grip on your hair loses. A salty taste enters your mouth. You swallow it before sucking slowly until Lando is completely empty. 

“You’re the best,” Lando eventually says to you. You show him a smile. Lando pulls you close to himself, causing you to land on his chest with your body again. He plays with your hair. “Don’t give me that innocent look,” Lando says with a small smile, “because I know for sure that you’re not that innocent.” You show him a smile again, not knowing what to reply.

“I can’t wait to find out how you feel around my cock,” Lando tells you. 

“I’m ready for that,” you tell Lando shyly, “Maybe we can do that soon?”

“That sounds like a good plan.”

Then Lando realizes that he has no idea what will happen after that. Will this thing between you two end when Lando takes your virginity? He realizes that he needs to think about that and talk to you about it. But for now he focuses his attention onto you again. He presses a soft kiss against your forehead.

part seven

taglist: @booksandplushies @dinodumbass @formula1mount @words-are-cheap @allywthsr @inejghafawifesblog @chonkybonky @formulas-bitch @harrysdimple05 @vildetry06 @wherethefuckisthething @nonameishere @lauralarsen@meadhbhcavanagh @obliviatevamps @shy4turcs @fix5idiots @nightlockcornucopia @marialovesf1 @kapsylia @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @lanando4 @lauralarsen @leclercdream @agentadhd @rewmuslupin @allsouls-emma @iamshiningeuw @teenagedreams-cl@kiskso @loxbbg @vellicora @thomaslefteyebrow @avg-golden-retriever @amorydsmt @killjoynotes@barelytolerabled @starmanv @changetyre @kami10471633 @2bormaybenot @httpmrklee @buendiabebeta @aliceespector@ryiamarie @mickslover @sop-hie092 @miniemonie2001 @greymarvelskaikru @kapsylia@swiftiedrafts @thatchickwiththecamera @formulas-bitch @venisvendetta @t3a-3njoy3r @landowecanbewc

taglist p2: @chezmardybum @booksandflowrs @mineandneveryours @strawberryy-kiwii @noneofyourfbusinessworld @secretgal66 @trinity2058 @evieepepi08 @shutupmymomsc4lling @smiithys @nanamilkbread @hellowgoodbye @annie115 @random-1927 @sadmeal444 @christianpulisic10 @peachiicherries @toppersjeep @lovingaphroditesworld @kiskso @silentreader128 @lauralarsen @scopeiguess @trinity2058

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfiction #ln4 #formula one #lando norris imagine #f1 #lando norris imagines #lando norris smut #formula one smut

[netherfeildren]

Pink : Part I : Humanist Seeking Person in Love

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Humanism: an outlook or system of thought attaching prime importance to human rather than divine or supernatural matters. Humanist beliefs stress the potential value and goodness of human beings, emphasize common human needs, and seek solely rational ways of solving human problems.

The story of a son who won’t love you, and his father, who will.

-OR-

the father-in-law AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak AU; Fix-it-fic but the thing that needs fixing is a person; Daddy issues; Daddy kink; Divorce; Welcome to the father-in-law suck and fuck extravaganza; Possessive behavior; Jealousy; Slow burn but like not really; DD/lg dynamics; Older man/Younger woman; Self esteem issues; Discussions of emotional and mental abuse; Unhealthy coping mechanisms

A/N: Check the tags on the masterlist, as well!

Word Count: 7.4K

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

1. Humanist Seeking Person in Love

The video you’d watched had said that the differences between a jamb nut and a coupling nut should have been obvious. A jamb nut, which was what you were currently looking for, was typically half as tall as a standard nut, or a coupling nut, and would be of a small, stouter shape compared to the other options. As you stare at the wall of overwhelming stock, the incomprehensible mess of steel, PVC, aluminum and plastic hardware you feel, a little bit, like you’d like to start screaming as loud as you possibly can, for as long as you possibly can. Just a rip roaring and rageful, top of your lungs, screech. Maybe it’d scare the leering men around you. Maybe they’d desist from the ogling of your ass in the tight confines of your ratty leggings, or the mildly pitying glances as your frustration and confusion becomes more and more obvious.

You try and take a deep breath, glancing down at your phone again and the screenshots you’d taken of the parts you need to fix your leaky kitchen sink. Zooming in, you hold the picture up next to the pipeware currently gripped in your sweaty hand and wonder again if what you’ve chosen is the right piece. You don’t understand why the hardware store, a local business, isn’t as neatly and efficiently organized as the larger chains, and why they make it so damn hard for someone without experience to come in and shop. You don’t want to buy the wrong thing and waste the money you already don’t have, you don’t want to have to make the trek back to this God awful fucking place. You hate the hardware store, you hate the way it smells, dusty and wooden, the cavernous hollow echo of it, the leering gazes of the men shopping, looking at you as if you’re some helpless child, something soft and easy to snap up and eat. You hate the memory of following your father around on many a Sunday morning after he’d forced you to come with him in some false attempt at bonding, at spending time together when really all it was, was another instance of you cowering behind him, trying to make yourself as silent and small as possible so as to avoid his anger and irritation. 

You look back down at the piece of PVC in your clutch, at the picture of what you’re supposed to be buying again, back at the other option, a copper bolt you think might look right but can’t really tell the difference, and you feel the backs of your eyes pinch and go hot and achy. A sharp, throbbing pain starting up behind your left eye and spiraling out like a stain to cover your forehead. You want to go home. You want your kitchen sink to stop leaking. You want the past year to never have happened. For your marriage to not have so irrevocably unraveled that the husband you’d so desperately fought to keep had left you out in the cold, divorced, very nearly penniless in a new apartment that you couldn’t make feel like home no matter how many fall scented candles and throw pillows you stuffed into every nook and cranny. You want to not have to make decisions like these and take care of things like this. You want very, very badly for someone else to come and take care of you, help you, make the choices that seem very hard in the moment but that, in the grand scheme of things, aren’t really so difficult, but that still sometimes call for a second opinion, wiser, more experienced hands. 

And in that next blink, in a soft, deep voice that should not be as easily recognizable in your mind as it is given the handful of times you’ve actually heard it, your name, being murmured from behind you. The lilt of a question, the gruff of shock coating the syllables as it pushes against your bare nape. Soft as a sledgehammer, like ice water down your naked back, your shoulders hitch up to your ears, going tense and frightened, a hot flush of shame spilling through you, the keenest desire to run away from that soft voice as fast as your stupidly October flip flopped feet’ll take you. You hiccup the half sound of his name, not turning around, lashes fluttering quickly to prevent the dry heat of your eyes from spilling over, nerveless fingers going listless around the plastic nut. You don’t want to turn around. This is a cursed place, this hardware store, and you should never have come, and you really do hate it here. Deep breath, deep breath. Be polite, be succinct. You don’t need to talk to him. You don’t need to think about the past. Fuck the sink, fuck the pipes. You’ll just move apartments. You let a long stream of air out of your mouth, and then turn on the ball of your foot to face him. 

“Mr. Miller,” you breathe with a limp smile you know isn’t going to fool anyone. 

He frowns, the line of his mouth wavering as he tries to contain his displeasure. “We really back to that?” You shake your head, looking away from him as the last shopper in the aisle you’re inhabiting walks away, leaving the two of you alone. The store suddenly seems to exist in a vacuum echo, all other patrons seeming to disappear, all sound going out. You even feel the imitation of a hollow pop in your ear drums. When you look back at him, he’s really scowling now. His strong brow pulled down over those too pretty, thickly lashed hazel eyes that you know so well on another man, a younger version of him. 

It was the first thing you’d noticed about him, the first time Sam had introduced you to his father, they have the same eyes. The same but different. There was a coldness to Sam’s gaze that you hadn’t recognized until it was too late for you, but you recognized it now, with a painful sort of awareness, recognized the lack thereof in his father’s eyes, how different they were even in their similarity. 

He raises his brows at you, a pressing gesture, “Joel.” His name feels like salt on an open sore in your mouth. “What are you doing here?” And he looks at you, just a little bit, like you’re an idiot, or maybe that’s only you, for his voice is gentle when he says, “Pickin’ up supplies with some of the boys on my crew. What’re you doin’ here, sweetheart? Sam with you?” Your heart beats like that of a small and hunted creature, pounding painfully against the confines of your ribs while a hot, humiliated flush washes through your entire body, heat suffusing your face so intensely there’s probably steam rising off the surface of your skin. You shake your head quickly, a barely there jerk. You’re suddenly trembling so hard your throat aches as if it’s been pierced by a lancet straight through. Another sharp jerk, and he steps forward a concerned look marring his face. 

“You haven’t spoken to him.” It isn’t a question. 

“He’s been feildin’ my calls for months. Assumed I’d done something– something else, last time to piss him off again. What’s wrong? Everything okay?” He pauses, head tilting, and you can’t look him in the face as you say it, gaze falling to your fingers twisted around the nut. 

“We’re not together anymore. He– he left me. We got divorced six months ago.”

Shocked into silence he takes another step towards you, the toe of his heavy boot coming into your eye line. The ends are thick and rounded, and you wonder if there’s a casing of steel within, how much a kick in the ribs would hurt delivered by a boot like that, and the violent thought startles you, your eyes going wide, shooting up to his face as if worried he could read your thoughts. Ashamed that something like that in reference to him would even cross your mind, for looking at him, the gentleness in his gaze, the utter concern, a man like this would never hurt a creature softer than him, you know that. 

It’s funny, or strange, or a phenomena not easily understandable or explainable unless you’d had a certain type of experience with a certain type of man, but there was a sort of sixth sense instilled in a person who’d dealt with cruel men that made it easy to recognize when one had the capacity to hurt you and when he didn’t. There were, of course, those who were good at masking it, but there was always something, a way they held themselves or moved around others, the cadence of their voices, clues that spoke of the sort of man he was. And from the first moment you’d met him, you’d thought Joel had something that spoke only of gentleness. Despite his size and seemingly rough aspect, there was something about his voice, and the way he carried himself, the way he moved around those who were smaller or weaker or less, less alive, less potent than him, that was always careful and always aware. 

“What?” He moves as if he’s going to reach for you, and you flinch back, the curve of your spine bumping into the framing of the shelves behind you, face turning away quickly. He goes tense, forcing himself into stillness, the white of his teeth flashing in a grimace, but he puts his palms up in a staying gesture, it’s alright, easy, he murmurs, I won’t touch you, hands lowering to fist in the pockets of his jeans into tight balls of false restraint. As if he’s afraid of what they might do of their own volition otherwise. “What do you mean he left you? What happened? He–”

“I don’t want to discuss this with you. Call him again or– or I don’t know. It’s not my business anymore. He was never happy with me,” you stupidly add, finally braving a look back at his eyes again, a bitter laugh scratching up your throat, “You know this. Call your son, Joel.”

You move to leave, to get away from him, but he shifts, blocking your escape, sending your heart up into your throat. “Honey, wait–” but you’re spinning on your heel the other way, stumbling in your flip flops, and you think he says something about the wrong way, but you’re rushing, blindly trying to get away from him down the aisle as fast as you can. You’re going to cry, you can feel it, any second now. You weren’t expecting to see him, the reminder of everything that had happened, your marriage and its failure and the part Joel had played in it. A painful and jarring shock to your nervous system that you’d not been prepared to receive. You blindly scramble through the aisles of the hardware store, losing yourself to the gloom of the dimly lit back rows where plywood and carpeting are stocked, that detested dusty hollow smell intensifying. You take another blind turn, another, until the sounds of the store have gone faint and then a frightening pressurized silence. Bracing your palms against one of the eye level shelves you let your head fall between your shoulders, your bag sliding down your arm to hang and sway at the bend of your elbow. You watch the slow back and forth pendulous movement, eyes wide and blurred. If you don’t blink, you won’t cry, and you’re so fucking tired of crying over this. 

“If you were tryn’a get away from me, exit was in the opposite direction,” comes his voice again. Your eyes flutter shut, a single tear drips from the line of your lashes onto the dusty concrete floor. 

“Please, go away,” you croak.

“Tell me what happened.”

“What do you think happened? Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“He– he’s a fuckin’ idiot, sweetheart–”

Your stomach lurches, “Don’t call me that.”

But he doesn’t listen, continues on unheeded. “There’s gotta be something we can do. I’ll– I’ll talk to him. I’ll make him see that–” You let your head fall back the opposite way now, looking up at the high, cavernous ceiling of the store, another bitter laugh. It’s the only kind left to you now. 

“I don’t want him back, Joel. Be serious.”

“He needs you–” And oh, that makes you angry. 

“Fuck you.” You spin around to spit the words at him, rushing forward to shove at his rock solid chest. He doesn’t budge even half an inch. You shove again, again, a humiliating sob making its way up your chest. You blink then, you can’t help it, the tears fall unrestrained. It’s a specific type of humiliating, facing the estranged father of the man who you’d been married to, who’d been unable to love you, who’d abandoned you. 

Sam and Joel had been unaware of each other’s existence for almost twenty eight years, but two years ago, Sam’s mother had finally told him about his father, his name, where he lived, how they’d gotten together when they were too young, and how she’d split, scared and vulnerable, without telling him a thing. The two of you’d gone looking for the man, and you’d both been varying degrees of shocked at what you’d found. Sam, faced with a man so unlike himself he’d immediately resented him more than he already had for the fact of his absence his entire life. You, as well, faced with a man so unlike your husband that it had made you resent your marriage even more. Immediately welcoming, loving, patient, gracious and generous and forgiving of the fact that a son had been kept from him for almost three decades. Despite the severity of his character, his serious reservedness, he’d done everything in his power to open himself to this long lost son. Not once had the news been met with cruel anger or outrage. Joel had accepted his son immediately and without question, listening to his mother’s reasoning, accepting the fact that a mistake had been made, forgiving, willing to move on and embrace Sam in all the ways he’d been denied for so long. Sam hadn’t been able to fathom it. He’d been mistrustful, hostile, angry, all the things he always was but compounded and heightened to a terrible degree he eventually started taking out on you. 

And it was funny because the fraught, or lack thereof, relationships with your fathers had been the thing that had initially bonded the two of you. Too young and alone and without direction, you’d met him in your last year of college. The relationship had immediately developed without boundaries or reason, you’d been obsessed, a little desperate, unquestioning, and then married a few short months later. Two too young, too lost people, burdened with daddy issues. A terribly sad cliche. You’d never had a chance. You never should have been. And there’s a part of you now, looking up at this man, your ex-husband’s father, that wants to feel angry at him, that wants to spit in his face and say this is all your fault, everything that happened to me, everything that was done to me was in your name, and I blame you for all of it, but you know it’s without reason or countenance. And worst of all, anger, blame, resentment, it’s not anything near to the things you feel when you look at him. The memory of a small, dark restroom flashes in your mind’s eye, his eyes gleaming above your face, the thick slope of his shoulder, the patterned wallpaper behind him, sickening comfort. 

You go still and frozen, fingers twisting in the front of his shirt, jerking with a painful shiver from the top of your head, down the length of your vertebrae, to the tips of your toes that cramp and spasm. Looking up at his face, you can feel a pulse throbbing in the muscle beneath your right eye, and the way he looks down at you, as if he’s never felt as sorry for any other creature in his entire life as he does for you in this moment, so embarrassing. You let your head fall forward again, landing with a soft thump against his chest, an uncontrollable tremble moving like fire through your frame. “Fuck you,” you say again, whispered, soft and weak and without any sort of force behind it. “How dare you say that to me,” another tear. “He’s always needed you. It was never me he wanted, never me he needed. It was always you.” You watch as one hand withdraws from its pocket cage, lifting to push a soft tendril of hair back behind your ear. And there’s fire left in the wake of the brush of his skin at the hollow there. Another shiver of a worse kind, one of desire, one of lust, moves through you. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it – I’m sorry, honey.” Stupid southern charm and their stupid pet names. You clutch at his shirtfront more tightly, press your forehead harder into his sternum, and he brings his hand to your shoulder, tucking you into himself more securely. He’s huge and warm and smells faintly of salt and sweat and laundry detergent. Something clean and fresh and masculine. He smells alive. His other hand comes up to the back of your head, moving through your hair. Fucking, Sam, he murmurs above you, and you’re sure he’s shaking his head in that disappointed fatherly way. “Tell me what you were looking for. What had you lookin’ so confused and irritated in the plumbing aisle?” You’d laugh if you could, a non bitter sort, but you don’t have the ability anymore, and that makes you so angry. Angry and irrational.

“My sink’s leaking, and I can’t afford a plumber because your son divorced me and left me with no money and no house and nothing for myself, and I hate this stupid place. I hate the way it smells, and I hate that nothing’s labeled clearly, and I hate the way you men,” you shove at his chest a little bit again, “look at me like I’m some dumb little girl who doesn’t know left from right.” Even if that’s what you kind of feel like, a dumb little girl who doesn’t know left from right anymore. Slightly out of breath, you go limp and exhausted against him. His palm flattens at the center of your spine, supporting you, and it’s so fucking inappropriate. You should move away. You don’t know him well enough for this, he’s your ex-father-in-law, you shouldn't let him touch you, but should and should not and right and wrong and inappropriate or not has never really mattered to you where Joel Miller is concerned. “This is the worst place in the whole world,” you mumble, voice muffled from where your face is squished against the annoyingly hard and delicious muscles of his chest. You feel, keenly, like you’re being a little bit ridiculous, a little bit embarrassing, but his big hand is slowly moving up and down the length of your spine, soothing and comforting, and you can’t bring yourself to care. He’d been kind from the first second you’d met him, and then, at the worst moment, he’d been understanding, and you’d never really stood a chance against him either. 

You’d never had a chance with the son, you’d never stood a chance against the father, there had never really been much choice or possibility for you as a whole where either of them were concerned.

I was such a little person. Tiny in my insignificance, naivety, hope. Desperate to be as good as I could be, and pathetic in my failure to make myself into what I thought the world wanted of me. 

“You can’t afford–” He breathes out roughly through his nose, stopping himself from continuing. “Do y’know what it is you’re looking for? What part?” And you nod your head, still buried against him, unable or unwilling to pull away. “Let me help you,” and he says it so, so gently that it makes you want to stomp your foot and cry and throw a fit at the unfairness of it all. 

“Don’t want your help,” you can’t help the muffled whine it comes out as. All you want is for someone to help you. 

“Of course you don’t, sweetheart,” he soothes. “But let me anyway. S’the least I can do for talkin’ out of my ass.” You finally pull back, looking up at him, and he brings his thumb up to catch the wetness at the fine skin beneath your eye. “Please, don’t cry,” he whispers like it hurts him. 

And even though he’s currently catching the salt of your eyes with his fingers, you lie obstinately, “I’m not,” whispered back just as quiet. 

After he helps you find the correct piece for your sink, finally, which ends up being neither of the options you’d been previously weighing, a fact that almost sends you over the deep end again, and paying for it at his aggravating and overbearing insistence, he walks you to your car. 

“Is he still in Austin?” He asks as he holds your door open for you, your shopping bag still clutched in his hand. One of the guys on his crew had come to find him while you were checking out, but he’d sent him away with a shake of his head, said he had something to take care of. 

“I don’t know, but he sold our house.”

“Fuck– Where’re you living?” The sound of his spit curse has a wet flutter moving through you, shame following bitterly in its wake. 

“I got an apartment in the East Side.”

“And he just left you to fend for yourself? Took your fucking house?” He’s getting angry, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him get angry. Something foreign like excitement jumps within you. 

“Well, that’s the point of divorce, Joel. You separate and are left to your own devices.” You reach for the little plastic bag, but he jerks it out of your reach. 

“He has a responsibility to you. He–”

“Again… the point of divorce.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, that boy,” he mutters, shaking his head. And that’s the thing of it, you think, that’s always been the crux of the issue. Sam was always a boy, has always been just a boy… there had never been any chance. “Let me come help you with the sink. Let me fix it for you.” Something to take care of, that’s what he’d said, that’s what he’d called you, what he sees you as. 

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish getting the words out, full of regret, and a wish that it could have all been different from the very start. “You know that isn’t a good idea,” and he goes silent because he does, he does know, he’d known since the first time probably. It had been obvious in the way that a secret thing can only be between the two people involved in the unsaid. “I can do it myself. Don’t worry. I’ll find a way.”

“You still got the same number?” He asks.

“Please, don’t call me. Call Sam. He’s the one that needs you. He’s the one that–”

“And who’s taking care of you? Who’s gonna take care of you, sweetheart? You need someone too, we all do.”

A flash of that earlier anger again, and you reach forward to rip the bag out of his clutch now, angry because he’s right. Because he’d always seemed to have a grossly misplaced ability to read you exactly as you are. He’d read you for what you were from the first second he’d laid eyes on you, naive and hopeful and falsely in love with a son who’d never loved either of you in return. “Maybe,” you tell him, “But that can’t be you.” He looks away from you, gruff sound of irritation passing through his clenched teeth, and he drags a heavy palm down his bearded mouth. Fuck, again that provoking spit curse. The wallpaper in that dark restroom had been covered in little blue motifs, butter yellow details sparsed throughout. It had surprised you, the pretty and delicate design in the home of a, for all intents and purposes, bachelor. It spoke of intention and attention to detail, to his space, to care of his home. That dim moment was, strangely, sickly, the brightest memory of the entire two years of your marriage. 

“You still got my number?” He presses anyways. Unheeded or uncaring of you trying to push him away, and there’s something about that, that’s pleasurable, his inability to let a thing go where you’re concerned, his unwillingness to allow you to hold him at arms length. Like he doesnt care to be kept away from you, and so he won’t. You nod your head once, face burning, molars grinding to keep yourself still and in place. You’d felt, for two years, trapped, running in place, and now left limp and exhausted and colorless, and you hope that he can’t read that exhaustion in you. For some reason, that would be more embarrassing than everything else, for him to see just how defeated you’d been left. He gives you one of those looks, those direct, piercing, aggravating looks that you’ve seen from him before, aggravating in a way that is inciting, like a relentless tongue against a slick swollen cunt, God. Your hands are shaking, and he bends his head down to your level to look at your directly, “You promise me that if you need anything, anything at all, doesn’t matter what it is – that you’ll call me. No matter the hour, no matter what it is. Promise me.” Another sharp jerk of your chin, if you talk you’ll scream or make a sound not wholly belonging to the body of a girl, woman, whatever you are. Another nod, the mute shape of an okay passing through your lips. And his face is so concerned, his hand almost lifted in the imitation of what you have to tell yourself, as a form of self preservation, is an ill intentioned caress or hug, but that you know he’d mean as nothing more than genuine comfort. You deflate in relief when he doesn’t touch you, right here, out in the open for the whole world to bear witness to. Things like that, after all, are only meant for dark, wallpapered bathrooms. He’d already taught you this. 

-

The relationship had not been what either of them had expected, Sam and Joel, from the get go. There was a smallness to his son, a pettiness and a cruelty and a spoiled rotten vein through the core of him that was incongruous with who Joel was as a man, something that was glaringly obvious to all involved. And try as he might, in those early days, they could not overcome the disparity in their personalities. The attempts from Joel at closeness had been fraught with tension and unsaid resentments, and eventually Sam had given up, stopped answering his father’s calls, evading his attempts to connect. Your marriage had spiraled into dissolution shortly after that. As if the failure to find whatever it was he’d for so long hoped for in a relationship with his father had highlighted all of the things you yourself lacked, all the ways in which you were so specifically dissatisfying to him and always would be. 

The marriage had not ended up being what either of you had hoped for, the honeymoon phase quashed and dead early on, no brightly lit halcyon. Reality had set in quickly when confronted with the disjointedness of your pairing, a bone out of place, your specific inability to please him in the ways he’d thought you would when he’d first met you. There was something about you that had always been a little bit lacking, something ascetic and cold natured about your personality at times. Since you were a child, trying to appease an unappeasable father, to emulate a singular mother. Always impossible, always falling just short of utter failure. Not so terrible that you were outwardly obvious in your mediocrity, but never everything you could be. Painfully, succinctly average. Sam had come to realize this quickly. Perhaps, unaware prior to tying himself to you because the only thing you’d ever been not average at, was being a little bit of a liar, of being placatingly complacent when the moment necessitated, manipulative in a way that you found protecting. But you see, that’s what happened when you had a cruel father who always needed appeasing, something Sam, in his abject fatherlessness, couldn't understand. Funny, you’d said that to him once, near the end, called him abjectly fatherless, his weakness a consequence of his lack of a paternal role model, and oh, how he’d hated that. Endings could bring out such cruelty in people, you’d found. 

But the manipulation of a moment had become, in some ways, your only talent. The art of superficial gratification at a moment's notice as a way to keep the people around you falsely happy and calm. Like all small and frightened creatures, you’d learned your strengths well, but as all truths do, yours had eventually surfaced. The fact that you weren’t really so appeasing in the ways he desired, not so nice, not so perfect, not so subservient. That the persona was all just a way to keep him happy as a means of getting someone to love you, to stay because you didn’t know how else to be. 

Your mother always said you could’ve been nicer to him. She was a kind, soft, patient thing. Quiet and easy and always, always, above everything else, understanding. It was the worst thing about her. A detriment, a weakness, and she resented you for your resentment, for seeing her as such, but you could never help it. Always asking you why you couldn’t just be a nice girl, a good girl. 

You didn’t think you had not been nice, not been good. You had only been yourself.

Your father had always hated that about you, you being yourself. The man you’d chosen to marry didn’t seem to like it very much either. And she’d tried to instill her better qualities in you, your mother, so you weren’t all bad all the time. There could be a brightness and a lightness and a sweetness to you sometimes, it’s true. You weren’t always all bad. But there was – is still – also a bitterness and a resentment and an anger, a screaming that you could not quell no matter how hard you tried. And so you’d attepted to give him everything you could, your husband, everything you had at your disposal in all ways, to do and be all he could have ever asked of you during those two small years of marriage. Because truly, they had felt so very small, made you even smaller. 

Everything except for sex. You’d never been able to give him that the way he’d wanted. 

At first, it had been normal, sweet, soft missionary in the darkness, tepid insinuations of orgasms, always hushed, always exactly how he wanted it. But eventually, when the other parts of you began to fail, he got mean and callous and casually cruel. And as you pulled away physically, he called you frigid, a prude, boring, cold, bad in bed, didn't know how to make a man hard. And it had made you so agonizingly insecure, already a sensitive and anxious thing when it came to your physical form, he’d beaten you down, embarrassed you, belittled you.

With time, you’d realized the truth of it which had been nothing more than that you’d never really wanted him. He had never made you desperate, he had never made you wet. It was his character, his attitude, yes, but it was also him. He just wasn’t it for you, and it wasnt that you were a prude or frigid at all, only that you needed patience and understanding and care, gentleness. Things he possessed none of. 

You just needed a little time to warm up and someone who wanted to give you that time. 

The reality that your life had not been full of varied and foolish adventures, and that time had seemed to simply slip away like an echo in the brain from one moment to the next was duly painful. A handful of months of wan and false lust, two years of cold, bitter marriage, and now, six months of barren aloneness. Too many mistakes had been made, too many regrets, three big ones that could be held like stones scorched to burn by the sun in the palm of your hand so that even if you let them go eventually, their imprint would still be scarred into your flesh afterwards forever.

So, perhaps the divorce had been painful in the moment. Or not perhaps, there was nothing uncertain about it, you’d fought tooth and nail to make it work, to keep him with you. Prostrated and humiliated and debased yourself. But with time, it became obvious that it was a fantasy you decided you should finally cast aside, as all children do childish things at a certain age. And then, it had been the easiest thing in the world. After all, and let’s be honest now for a moment, the reckoning had come in the shape of his father. That is, at the end of it, the reason you’re really here. 

Sat now, before the open cabinet below your kitchen sink, leaky pipe drip, drip, dripping monotonously in front of your glazed over eyes, you think of him. He’s a large man, intimidating and dark and stoic. Taller and broader than his son. Lush, mahogany curls streaked with silver that speak of age and experience like the smile lines around his eyes. Deeply grooved when he laughs that beautiful laugh of his. He looks exactly like the opposite of whatever his son is, like he’d have the ability to make the opposite of you, to pull out of you whatever the antithesis is of what his son was able to. It had been immediate, the nature of your thoughts towards him. The desire, the desire, the desire, you had wanted like you’d never wanted before — like an illness, like dying. 

Your marriage had been circling the drain, and then you’d met him, and it should have been innocuous. He’d been kind and polite and welcoming, but also, aloof. Holding himself at a distance, something afraid that he carried within himself, like he didn't want to hope, like he was just a little bit scared of what it meant now to have a son, something to lose. You knew a little bit about that, the worst part of it all is never the cruelty, it’s the hopelessness. Everything had become so much worse after meeting him. An unbearable sort of awareness of something that your listless, frigid self recognized as man, man, man, something like hunger. Something slanted about the desire, wrong, sure, for he was your husband's father, and yet, you wanted him. You wanted to know what he smelled and tasted like, and what the weight of his cock on your tongue would feel like. If it was bigger than his sons, you were almost positive of that, if it would stretch the corners of your mouth to near splitting, the hinges of your jaw to aching. 

You’d met your husband's father, and had realized, painfully, with uncompromising clarity, all that your husband could be, all that he was not, all that he would never be. There was no comparison between the boy and the man, and it made you hurt. 

Your eyes flit back to the screen of your open laptop and the instructional video there, popping another fuzzy peach gummy onto the flat of your tongue, mouth full of sucking sugar. You’re going to fix this sink if it’s the last thing you do, and you’re not going to think about him again. But tomorrow, you’ll start not thinking about him tomorrow. The talent of a liar never really wanes.

The apartment is quiet, nothing but the cheerful crackling of your sweet pumpkin candle and the mocking splish splash of the drain pipe. You had, in recent weeks, come to think of your abandonment as something of an accomplishment. Perhaps, your loneliness is a good thing, you’ll tell yourself as a comfort, a sort of friend; you can’t be used against yourself again in this solitude, and oh, how you’d been used. That anemia in your character, the ascetic thread of your personality had been weaponized and wielded against you until you couldn’t tell up from down and left from right. You were certain there’d been cheating, even if you’d never had any proof to confirm it, merely grateful you’d never gotten sick as way of evidence. But you knew. And it could've been so much worse for you, of course, of course it could have. But he’d left your mind so off kilter, broken and confused and not yourself. Utterly damaged in a way that was humiliating and devastating when you thought of the way you’d been, such a little person. So often, not a woman, just a little girl. 

And then his father. Joel. Seeing him today – you had never felt the way you should have felt towards him. Like your eyes were open, awake for the first time in your entire life. A man like that – he was changing. And you wanted, needed very much to be changed. Seeing him today, being presented with that reminder of what he was, how he made you feel, how he’d always made you feel. There’s something ghoulish about you concerning him – about this desire. That ascetic or anemic or under-grown, illformed thing about you, exterminated in the thrum of how alive he is. How unlike his son. You’d never known what it specifically was, never been able to categorize it, and then there had been that moment, brought so low, six feet beneath the ground sort of debased, and he’d been there and you had been – unburdened from the weight of his own son, by him, and you’re not even sure he knew the extent of it. The power he’d wielded over you in that moment in the dark. And you can’t say it out loud, what it is you’d want from him, you can’t even say out loud what it is about him that changes you as it does – not a woman, just a little girl – but you think that if you could just see him, then you’d know, or maybe you could be brave. You don’t know what it is, but you’d know it then, with him in front of you, you’d have the answer to this question that’s plagued you for so long – how to be yourself in a way that is good.

You’re pushing yourself to your feet, fueled by the thought, fingers gripped over the ledge of the counter to pull yourself up, sink forgotten, stumbling to your front door, shoving your feet into your shoes and fumbling for your keys. How to be yourself in a way that is good. 

When you were seventeen, your father had been at his angriest. Angry in that way that all angry father’s are. Loud and brutish – an anger that is cowing, a sign of true weakness. Brute force in the shape of the man who gave you life. When you think of it now, even as a grown woman, you still feel that phantom limb of fear, and you know that it isn’t normal for a grown woman to be afraid of her father, and yet you are. And then to think that you’d gone from your parents home directly to the bed of the same sort of man, one even crueler, if possible. You’re forced to laugh your singular terrible, self deprecating laugh at the irony of it – even worse, if possible. For what’s worse than a person who constantly needs to be soothed into kindness and patience and calm? 

Once, in that terrible seventeenth year, funny and strange and unknowingly perfect, you’d been gifted the Farmer’s Almanac by your elderly neighbor. She’d said that she’d read it since she was a girl, liked the peace in knowing that the year had been predicted by experts and put down on paper. It made life seem more secure, more in control in a small way. You’d needed that during that turbulent time, locked in your teenage bedroom, lulled to sleep by the sound of your father’s anger and the year’s long-range weather predictions before your blurry eyes. It was so comforting to be able to read the future in text, catastrophe or sunshine, at least it was there. You still read it to this day. And there’s no congruity to the thought now, as you crawl into your car, a ghoul in the night, banging your knee on the hastily opened car door, sprouting gooseflesh in the cold; this desire, desire, desire that is the worst thing you’ve ever felt in your whole life, and yet, you can’t bring yourself to stop because there is something about control in this moment also. Control like knowing what the future will be like on paper, control like a man who is entirely grown into himself, who knows who he is and who he is not and is not uncertain, who will not yell, who will not hurt you. He has this – your husband’s father – you know he does. There is something about control, there is something about knowing how a thing will be, there is something about being yourself in a way that is good. 

-

You’d picked up the wrong wine on your way here. Rushing, trying to fix your makeup in the car, you’d gotten confused, chosen the one he didn’t want instead of the one he did. And it was nothing, or an accident, surely nothing to incite his ire, but he’s so fucking angry hovering in front of you. He looks at you, now sometimes, like he hates you, like you’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. He said you’d humiliated him in front of his father. That he was going to think he didn’t have good taste, couldn’t afford a decent bottle of wine. And you don’t know Joel very well, but he doesn’t seem like the type of man to care about such things. Calling you an idiot in that poisoned shrill tone he takes on when he’s delivering a set down, and you’re trying to tell him to please, please keep your voice down, Sam, your father is going to hear you. You’d heard someone say once that a truly powerful man never feels the need to raise his voice, it simply isn’t necessary for him, and you’re reminded, terribly, of your father, with the sight of your shrill and seething husband in front of you.  And then a low toned that’s enough, son from the mouth of the kitchen, and it’s so much worse, entirely catastrophic in a way, and you’re rushing away so humiliated, face on fire, tear caught over the trough of your lower lid, trying the doors in the hallway for the nearest restroom. You hear the murmur of voices, one struggling to maintain composure, the other, cool and steady, then the slam of the front door, and finally, the silent din of his house settling around the two of you as you find a restroom to hide in. Your heart beats so fast it makes you nauseous, knees strangely aching, listening to the heavy steps of Joel’s boots, as if he’s trying to warn you with those measured, weighted thuds that he’s coming, coming, coming for you. Turning to face the far corner of the restroom, you press your palm over your mouth, face slippery and burning and so stupid, the soft swoosh of the opening door, a paused breath as he takes in your form huddled into the wallpaper, and then the muted snick of the door closing behind him, shutting the two of you away together.

Part II

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

#pink fic #Joel Miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #Joel Miller smut #joel miller imagine #the last of us au

[luveline]

hiii jadey <3 i’ve been having a bit of a rough time in college lately and i was wondering if you’d be willing to write some bombshell!reader where spencer talks about being bullied in high school and maybe bombshell can relate? even if not, just a lot of comfort please? i hope you’re doing well!! <333

ty for ur request!!! fem

It’s a blessing and a curse whenever you come around. Spencer’s thinking he hadn’t seen you in a while when your text lights up his screen, a summoning if there ever was one. 

Hi Spencer, I need some help with my laptop. It turns out for about ten seconds and then turns off again. Do you think you can fix it?

He has no idea. Probably. Do you want me to come by SCU? 

No need

“Spencer!” you say, practically glowing as you drop your messenger bag on his already crowded desk. “Sorry, that’s so heavy.”

“You’re here,” he says, surprised. 

You lean down to hug him in his chair. Spencer can’t ignore that he likes every part of you, your arms as they wrap around his shoulders, the perfume on your neck as you touch your cheek to his, even the soft exhale of your breath by his ear. “Hi, Dr. Reid,” you say gently. “Missed you. So happy my laptop isn’t working ‘cos now I get to see you.” 

You pull away with a grin. Your lips are a shade of pink that Spencer won’t soon forget.

“That was fast.” 

“So fast,” you say. “You know I love an excuse to see you and to not be at work.” 

You work very hard, but you’re like anyone. Stealing time is fun and free. “You’re not gonna get in trouble, right?” 

“With who? Hotch doesn’t care if I’m here and Sandy,” —you full body shiver at the mention of your boss— “won’t notice I’m gone for another hour. Besides, I can’t have a broken laptop. They’re pretty cool, right?”

“Laptops?” 

“Yeah, I like them. I just need the WiFi to work everywhere.” You squint at him. “Is that something you can do?” 

Spencer cannot make the WiFi work everywhere you go, but he can soft reset your laptop after a short investigation of the problem. It takes about five minutes, in which you steal Morgan’s chair and get comfortable next to him, legs crossed, hand resting open on your thigh. “You’re so smart. I bet you were very popular in high school.” 

He laughs, startled, a horrible sinking feeling moving through his chest. “What? Why would you think that?”

“‘Cos you’re a genius at everything, right? I bet you were always helping people with their homework.” 

His lips last. He doesn’t know what to say. “I don’t think I talked to anyone in high school who didn’t want to hang me at the top of a flag pole,” he says honestly. 

Your lovely smile falls flat. “What?” 

“I skipped a couple of grades, so I was younger than everybody, and I wasn’t well liked. I was actually bullied pretty badly.” He laughs again with that same brittle panic. He’s talking without thinking, it just spilled out, it’s spilling still, “I used to get beat up for breathing wrong.” 

You’re quiet. Spencer panics worse because why has he told you that? You’re so sweet to him but that doesn’t mean you wanted to know about his worst moments, he can practically feel the affection you had for him melting away as you realise he’s a loser, he’s pathetic–

“I was bullied too,” you say, giving him a tentative smile. “All the way through high school and a little bit after that, too. Maybe that’s why we get along so well, huh?” 

He looks at his hands. “You were?” 

“Yep.” He can hear the strain of wanting to sound normal. “I mean, I didn’t get beat up, Spencer, that’s awful and I’m– I’m so sorry.”

You’re the last person he’d ever want an apology from, because you’re one of the only people he’s ever met who likes him as he is. You could never make him hurt the way he did back then. High school was years ago and it lingers like it happened yesterday. “I can still remember the stuff they used to say to me,” he says. 

“I got made fun of for so much stuff,” you agree. “Boys I didn’t even know would berate me in the halls for just being there. I got called ugly so much I genuinely believed I was for years.” 

“You’re not ugly,” he says immediately. 

“I know.” 

He nods thoughtfully. “It’s hard trying to forget about it. I think if people knew how much I carry with me from then they’d tell me to let it go, but I can’t.” 

“You don’t have to let it go, Spence, so long as you know it’s not your fault it happened.” 

You offer your hand. Spencer stares at it. You wiggle your fingers and he thinks, Oh, grasping it quickly, before you change your mind. Your fingers slide between his and you rub the back of his hand with your thumb, smiling approvingly, eyes crinkled with pleasure. 

“They don’t know what they missed,” you say, a hint of shyness in your voice that’s swiftly covered by your usual confident drawling, “they had unfiltered and unadulterated access to the Spencer Reid, n’ I have to pretend my laptops broken just to see you. So crazy.” 

You give his hand a good squeeze.

“It was sort of broken,” he says as you take your hand back. He’s sure his brain is broken too. 

“Nah, it always does that. I just give it a love tap and it fixes it again.” 

“A what?” He laughs so loudly it turns heads. His crush on you turns to full blown infatuation.

#spencer and bombshell!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

[gnar-slabdash]

I suddenly woke up stupid early on my day off with multiple weird random aches and pains and a revelation about the Leverage chess metaphors.

They’re all wrong.

Look, I obviously adore the white knight/black king motif, and it works really well for that very specific discussion of Nate’s shift in morality and position at the opening of the series. But the show as well as I and other fans have then tried to take that equation and apply it to other jobs and to the crew as a whole. This is fun and awesome, but I believe you’re going to get it wrong every time if you start from the white knight/black king line. 

Because in all other situations, Nate is not the king.

Couple important things about kings in chess: 1. They don’t move much. They can only move one space at a time, and for most of the game they stay in their own little box, well guarded by other pieces. This is because 2. When the king is checkmated (threatened with capture and no possible escape), it’s game over. There is no more hope. This is the sole requirement for losing the game. No matter who else is in play, if the king is down, you lose.

This is NOT how Nate operates. Yeah, he makes the plans, but he doesn’t just hide in the office while everybody else carries them out. He’s almost always right up in there playing the most obnoxious guy you’ve ever met or smashing windows or something. And if Nate gets captured, it’s not game over, in fact, it often isn’t even a PROBLEM. Let’s look at a few times that happens, just for fun: - In The King George Job, Nate’s getting beat up and Eliot slightly panics and is about to run to help, when Sophie says “NOPE, don’t do that, I can fix this without blowing our cover” and saunters in at her leisure. The jig isn’t up and she’s not even particularly concerned about him getting punched. I love it. - In the Maltese Falcon Job, Nate sacrifices himself to save the team. This is a classic thing to do in chess and chess metaphors, but, I cannot stress this enough, you cannot sacrifice your king. That’s just called LOSING. -In The Long Goodbye Job of course the whole con is structured around Nate getting caught. I guess this one kind of makes sense because the whole point is to look like they HAVE completely lost, but then at the end it appears that Nate’s going to secret prison and everyone else is escaping WITH the black book, so they STILL would be losing Nate but winning the job. 

So if Nate isn’t the king, who is?

Hardison.

Let’s look at our points about kings again:

1. Doesn’t move as far or as quickly: Yes, Hardison ALSO gets out there and participates in the cons, everybody does. But Hardison does stay in the background more often, because that’s where his power is. He does the behind the scenes tech stuff and the remote stuff, he can wreck your shop without showing up through the power of the internet. He also does the forgeries of identities and objects, which are also done in his own space. At the same time, he has less physical power and less range -- you don’t want him in a fistfight, or a gunfight, and his grifts are notorious for being a little. . . uh. . . interesting. So he has limited physical range and power but at the same time. . . .

2. The game is over if you lose him. That far-reaching behind the scenes power is absolutely vital for 90% of the jobs. He does the massive amounts of research and hacking legwork needed just to START a job, even before you get to actually completing the job. You are pretty much dead in the water without Hardison. But that’s just from a practical standpoint. Losing Hardison is also a crisis from an emotional standpoint. He’s our moral compass and our sweet baby brother and when Hardison gets in trouble there is no “well he’ll be fine for a few minutes” and no “well he kinda had it coming.” No, when Hardison is in trouble everything else grinds to a halt and everyone comes running. (See: The Experimental Job, The Grave Danger Job, The Long Goodbye Job.)

So like, yes Nate is in charge. But the king isn’t in charge on a chessboard, the king is just a piece with a very unique role, which Hardison fills much better than Nate does. So, now that we have our real king, who are our other pieces?

Queen: Parker. This has nothing to do with her dating Hardison. The thing about the queen is she can do a little bit of everything -- she can move in any direction, making her the most dangerous piece on the board. Parker’s whole character arc is about learning all the different roles and how to access the whole playing field. She’s the only one who plans and executes an entire episode-length job by herself (okay, with a little help from her girlfriend). Plus, the other cool thing about a queen is she has a built-in transformation story -- a pawn that crosses the board can become a queen, which Parker mimics by initially being dismissed as “the crazy one” and ultimately becoming the mastermind.

Knight: Sophie. I know, I wanted Eliot to be the horsie too, but this makes more sense. The knight’s deal is that it’s sneaky -- it’s the only piece that can turn corners -- and it can jump over obstacles. Sophie’s whole philosophy of grifting is that she shouldn’t need to know about safes or security systems, she should be able to bypass (jump over) all that by insinuating herself with the mark (being sneaky by playing a character to get behind enemy lines)

Rook: Eliot. This is the straightforward one -- it goes in a straight line. It also literally represents the castle walls. It’s also so, so fucking helpful to have around, I fucking hate losing my rooks. It’s your solid right hand man, basically. Is this a little reductive of Eliot? Absolutely, but I’m jamming five complex characters into five predetermined boxes, it’s not all gonna be nuanced. And I think Mr. Punchy would like being seen as the fortress that everybody depends on, and to let all the nuance go under the radar. That’s where he likes it. 

Bishop: Finally, here’s where Nate is hiding. While the rook can only go straight (lol), the bishop can only go diagonally. Nothing can be straightforward for the bishop, he always has to come at things from an angle. Like, you know, constantly looking at all the different angles of a situation and finding the right angle to come at a mark from. Also, the bishops sit right in the middle right next to the king and queen. I don’t know that this is historically accurate, but when my dad taught me to play he told me that was because the bishops were important councilors to the rulers, they were the ones who had important wisdom that would tell them the best plan of attack. So the king here isn’t necessarily the one making the plans -- that’s the bishop. And finally, apparently the bishop is called lots of different things in other languages, but we’re operating in English, which means it makes Nate a priest, and that makes me happy.

#leverage #nate ford #alec hardison #parker leverage #eliot spencer #sophie devereaux #chess #seriously what kind of divine intervention happened in my sleep #i feel like some god beat me up and then threw the manuscript of this post at me before disappearing #is this an odin thing #might be an odin thing

[lucyandalexiafan]

I’m scared | Alexia Putellas x reader | part 1

Summary: after yet another attempt to pretend to want to have sex with Alexia, the blonde tries to understand why you don't tell her that you don't want to have sex with her and why you are so scared every time she touches you.

Warnings: angst. This work is talking about past sexual abuses (not in a detailed way, but to explain why reader doesn’t want to have sex with ale), so if it’s trigger don’t read, please. Fluff in the end (?).

Words: 3k

I tried to write with “you” to refer to reader, i don’t know if I did it in the right way but I wanted to try to write in this way; as usually, if something is wrong, say it and I’ll correct.

I’m really emotive involved in this work, so pls be kind and respectful 🫶🏻

This is part one of this ask: ask

You and Alexia are walking.

The weather is perfect: clear sky, the sun that warms despite the winter cold.

The dirt road without potholes.

There is no one but you two.

The pace of the walk is slow.

Calm.

There's no hurry.

Barcelona is on your right, veiled in the January fog.

You're walking her favorite trail, but Alexia hasn't explained to you why she asked you to take this walk on a Sunday after lunch.

The blonde had asked you if you would like to go with her to a Barça under 11 girls' match where she was supposed to be present, and then eat at the sports center; at the end of it all, while you were in the car, she asked you to take that walk.

You nodded, smiling, even though an unfamiliar feeling was invading your body.

She had been weird since this morning.

Cold.

Thoughtful.

You bite your lip while you kick some pebbles.

You tried to make conversation a couple of times and she always ended any dialogue in its tracks.

She has her hands stuffed into the pockets of her blue jacket.

Her hair loose.

Her forehead is decorated, every now and then, with wrinkles.

Her lips closed in a line.

She looks older today.

More tired.

Today there is no trace of the woman who looks five years younger.

Is it your fault?

Did you do something?

She runs a hand through her hair and tucks a tuft behind her ear.

Her posture is rigid.

She smiled less today.

She sought less contact than usual.

She is weird.

She swallows her saliva in an attempt to ward off that anxiety.

You are also relatively distant on a physical level.

She opens her mouth a couple of times to speak.

And, when she doesn't say anything, she pretends it's to sigh.

Should you ask her?

Speak?

But she cut off every attempt to do it before.

Maybe she's sad, or something happened and she just wants to stay quiet. After all, many times you have been quiet, at her house or while walking around Barcelona, and she says that she likes it.

That she feels comfortable with you in silence.

But she looks so uncomfortable today.

She takes a deep breath.

“I have to ask you something,” she announces.

You look at her.

She is serious.

No smile.

Her lips are a flat line.

She doesn't turn to look for you, her eyes fixed on the road.

You invite her to continue.

You scratch your forearm nervously.

What's taking her so long?

What should she ask?

What did she do?

What have you done?

“But I would like you to be honest”

You nod.

What happened?

Why all this preamble?

Usually, it's you who does it, who makes a thousand assumptions.

“Why do you pretend to want to have sex when you don't want to have it?”

You stop, frozen.

The hand that was scratching the forearm is still, the nails still in contact with the skin.

She closes her eyes.

Her voice is neutral.

But is she mad?

Disappointed?

She turns to look at you.

Your head is bowed, your position is arched, your shoulders forward.

She stands straight, rigid.

"You did it last night too - she sighs - Last night too you tried to pretend and I think it's the fifth or sixth time in the last month"

You swallow the saliva.

“I want to understand why you don't tell me that you don't want to have sex - she stops for a moment - It's not a problem if you don't want to, but you have to tell me, do you understand me?”

You nod uncertainly.

How did she understand it?

What can you tell her?

From her voice, she sounds more worried than mad.

She closes her eyes.

It's true what she said.

During the last month, you have pretended to want to have sex several times.

Then, each time, she interrupted the attempt.

She laid next to you.

She kissed you.

She rested her arm on your hip or belly.

And she closed her eyes.

You clench your jaw.

"I…"

“Look at me, please”

Is it urgency?

It doesn't sound like a reproach, an order.

But more of a request.

You would like to deny it, to say that it's not true.

Say that she's lying.

But what's the point of it?

She understood it.

She understood that there is something.

And if she's talking about it, for how long had she thought about it?

Does it make sense to deny it?

Lie?

Telling lies to cover up something so obvious?

“I… I… - you sigh - I'm scared”

You whisper.

Your voice weak, maybe overwhelmed by the breeze.

Your cheeks burn with humiliation, shame.

"About what? What are you afraid of?"

Did she really not understand or does she want you to say it?

She always understands everything about you.

It's like you're predictable with her, it doesn't matter if you've been dating for more or less four months, camps and games aside, she always understands.

Does she have any ideas?

Maybe she hopes this isn't what it is.

Maybe she wants an excuse to dump you.

“That you… that you do it even if I don't want to”

She asks you what it means.

What does she think of you now?

What does she think of this unhealthy fear?

You point your gaze at the panorama.

You stare at a flock of birds.

They move haphazardly, as your thoughts.

“I almost got raped by my ex-boyfriend - you close your eyes - He gaslighted me… he said it was my fault if we didn't have sex, that if I hadn't had it I would never have felt ready, that I was ungrateful because he also thought to my pleasure"

You sigh.

You put your hand on your eyes.

You wrinkle them.

You are trembling.

What will she think of you now?

What will she think of you after she finds out?

“One night I had to sleep at his house and… he tried to penetrate me several times - a sob escape from your lips - He said that I had to stay still, that nothing would happen”

You never talk about it.

Never.

To nobody.

Three or four people know.

You are so ashamed of yourself.

You know that it was not your fault, that you don't have to feel that guilt, but you can't do other than feel it.

It happened years ago but it is as fresh in your mind.

“He also did it two nights later, when I was forced to stay at his house because I was quite ill and unable to come back home with my bike”

All you need is one wrong touch and you remember him.

You remember that moment.

That scene.

You relive it endlessly.

Relive that fear.

That terror.

That rejection.

That trying not to think of the worst.

That cry when, months later, you understood that what had happened wasn't normal.

“I… I risked losing my virginity through rape”

A whisper.

A faint, insecure phrase interrupted by panting.

The trembling voice.

“He did so much gaslighting that he ended up dumping me because we weren't having sex and telling me it was my fault – you swallow your saliva – But before dumping me he tried several times to do it, to penetrate me”

You sigh a couple of times.

She is silent.

You don't dare look at her.

You don't want to see the look on her face.

You bite your lip.

“I... I know you won't do it, really - you sigh - But subconsciously I'm afraid that you'll break up with me if we don't do it and I try to convince myself that it's what I want”

You mess up your hair.

You pull the sleeves of your shirt up and down several times, nervously.

“I'm afraid you'll get bored of me if we don't do this or that-”

You close your eyes.

Will she hate you if you say it?

What will she think?

Will she scream?

Will she hit you?

Will she insult you?

Or maybe she will go away.

She will return to the car with the idea of returning home without you and never seeing you again.

She doesn't speak.

Why doesn't she speak?

“Subconsciously I'm afraid that you... that you'll do it anyway - you sigh, your voice broken by the crying that threatens to start - that you'll fuck me anyway, so I try to convince myself that I want it. So... so if-if you do it maybe-maybe I'll live it better"

The tears that flow.

If she dumped you, you would understand.

On the one hand, you don't satisfy her.

You are full of trauma.

You can't even have sex when she wants.

On the other hand, you defined her as a possible rapist.

Cruel, that you think only of yourself.

“I know you wouldn't do it, really - you add urgently, the fear that she will interrupt you - But subconsciously I'm afraid of it”

You hug yourself.

As to protect yourself.

As if to ward off any sort of reaction.

"Why did not you tell me?"

Is it sadness?

Penalty?

Compassion?

You shake your head.

“What did I have to tell you? - the sarcastic tone - That I'm subconsciously afraid that you're a rapist because the first one I did something with almost raped me? That for everything I have one trauma that might annoy you?”

You clench your jaw.

You laugh sardonically.

“Romantic as a conversation to have after a few months of dating”

There is a pause.

You don't look at her.

Why doesn't she scream?

Why doesn't she hit you?

Why doesn't she react?

“Have I ever done anything when you were pretending?”

You shake your head nervously.

Quickly.

"No. Never - you giggle nervously - You always understood somehow”

“But we almost had sex that night. I touched you"

You nod. “I wanted it, that evening”

She sighs.

Her eyes stained with pity, with compassion.

"Why did not you tell me? - you don't answer - Little one, I would never get mad if you didn't want to have sex with me"

She's not sincere.

It is not true.

She's lying.

How can she not get mad?

“It's just that every time I want to have sex you seem to want it and I try, and then sometimes in you change... I feel you change - she shakes her head - I would never do anything to you that you don't want, little one, but you have to tell me”

Why can't you believe she's sincere?

You have too many problems.

Too much anxiety.

Too many traumas.

Why can't you trust her?

“I'm scared,” you whisper.

You're really afraid that the woman you're falling in love with will rape you.

That will abuse you.

To convince you that it's your fault.

That you wanted it.

Would you really be able to walk away, to escape, if she did that?

“It's true that you stopped those times, but if I told you in the meantime, how would you take it? - you shake your head, tears falling to the ground - I'm afraid that you will hurt me like everyone else has always done"

She doesn't say a word.

You sob.

You gasp.

“I know you wouldn't do it, really... but I'm afraid that you would hit me or yell at me or that I would disappoint you - you sniff - I don't want this relationship to end because I only have traumas and I only cause problems”

“Baby, I will never hurt you because you don't want to have sex, ever”

You shake your head.

The tears falling to the ground.

The chest is invaded by contractions.

“I know, really… but when we're there I have an irrational fear that you will - you wipe your eyes - I know it doesn't make sense, but it's as if that fear comes over me”

She doesn't come close.

She doesn't move.

She is still.

You look at her.

The wrinkles on the forehead are more noticeable.

The mouth is a thin line.

Did you disappoint her?

Is she exhausted by you?

“It's like those times I can't control myself”

The tears that run relentlessly down your cheeks.

You open and close your eyes several times waiting for them to go away, let them disappear.

Admitting it, it hurts.

It burns the chest and inflames the sense of guilt.

Saying it out loud is a stab.

“Have you told anyone about this? A psychologist”

You shake your head quickly.

“No, never… I… in the end, it's just how I saw it, you know?"

You feel so humiliated.

Stupid.

Pathetic.

“And then he hasn't completely done it, so it doesn't make sense that I feel so bad. In the end... in the end, it's nothing, it's me who exaggerates"

“Baby, he almost raped you - you lament at the word - Amor it's not a normal thing, it's not a small thing. Don't deny what he did or try to justify it."

You shake your head.

“I'm not saying it is, but that... it's not serious enough”

“Baby yesterday you got scared when I touched your hip while I was kissing you - you look at her suddenly - You reflexively moved exactly like at the beginning when you were scared I would hit you”

You close your eyes.

“And it's not the reflex you have when you get scared because you don't hear me entering in the kitchen while you're cooking, it was fear. I saw that light of fear in your eyes for a few moments"

“I… please, sorry”

The nausea that invades your body.

You feel so guilty.

So wrong.

So stupid.

Why can't you enjoy something?

Did she feel guilty because of you?

Did you make her suffer?

Did you hurt her?

“Baby, don't apologize, please - she sighs, as she tries to get closer - It's not your fault”

Take a step back.

“But it is! - you almost scream - I'm the one who can't have sex with you, you're not him!”

Your chest rises and falls quickly.

You gasp.

You're out of breath.

You hate screaming.

To lose control.

But you don't like talking about the topic and you're afraid that she will use your words to leave, to look for someone better than you.

“Little one, this is a trauma independent of the person in front of you”

There is silence.

You do not answer.

What should you say?

You are standing still, a few steps away.

“I… I understand if you want to leave me - you hesitate - If… if I'm too full of problems, if you want someone easier…”

You leave the sentence halfway.

You hope she completes it.

But she doesn't.

She doesn't say anything.

She doesn't say a word.

“Amor, it's not a problem if you don't feel like having sex with me, either when you're scared or normally, really - you look at her - But you have to tell me because only then can I understand and not hurt you”

The tears that continue to flow from your eyes.

“Baby, I don't want to break up with you, least of all for this reason. I just want to understand."

She moves closer to you.

You lower your head, shrug your shoulders.

Does she want to hit you?

Does she want to hurt you?

The truth is, you wouldn't stop her.

You wouldn't stop her from hitting you.

After all, why shouldn't she?

“Seriously baby, I don't want to break up with you or hurt you… I just wanted to understand - she sighs - So we can act consequently, so I can help you”

How long did she think about it?

How much time did you steal from her?

You drag your hands down your pants.

Why is she so nice to you?

Why is she so normal?

So emotive available?

She hugs you.

You rest your head on her shoulder, you close your eyes.

You breathe her scent.

“I'm sorry… I'm sorry” you say it over and over again.

Her hand runs down your back in a steady motion.

Relaxing.

Consolatory.

“I'm sorry,” you sob.

“Why don't we do something? - she asks you when she moves away from your body - Next time you will take the initiative - "

“No, no please no” you whisper interrupting her, looking at her scared.

Eyes more open than usual.

The vision blurred with tears.

“Baby, I don't want to force you, I want you to understand that I don't want to hurt you, that I can wait”

“But I know!” You interrupt her urgently.

With fear.

“Baby I want it to come from you, I want you to understand that we don't have to have sex every time we see each other. It's normal not to want it if you don't feel ready for it, if we do other things than sex"

You look down.

“It's really normal baby - she pauses - It's normal not to want to have sex when you don't feel like it”

“But… but what if you and I… what if after doing it I don't want to do it for a while, I don't feel ready for it?”

“Baby it's normal, it happens to everyone - she stops, places her hand under your chin, applying pressure to be looked at - Even more so in this situation”

Is she sincere?

Do you seriously think so?

“I'm just afraid that you won't want me anymore”

“Baby, I'm in love with you for the person you are, not for the sex”

You look at her.

Her eyes are wide.

Is she in love with you?

She smiles embarrassed.

Shy.

She is - is she really...

In love.

You smile through your tears.

You look at her in disbelief.

Did she really say that?

She has that sly smile on her face, that smile that she made you fall in love with.

She won't hurt you.

At least her, her won't hurt you.

#woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #alexia putellas fanfics #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader

[chansshands]

Physiotherapy and coconut oil.

Just a thought on this

Pairing: idol!Chan x fem!reader.

Genre: fluff, crack maybe??, friends/co-workers to?

Warnings: make out session, half naked Chan?????, mention of handjob, handjob, mention of anger issues, dry humping, mention of food and alcohol, mention of dom!chan, sub!chan, softdom!reader, let me know if I miss something. DO NOT USE COCONUT OIL ON YOUR PRIVATE AREAS!!

Author note: we need to talk about this outfit, I know that I'm late but bro, look at him, his stupid boobs, and arms, and abs? I'm on my knees, hair in a ponytail, ready to do my job. why? because I'm a whore for this man, also his physiotherapist is lucky as fuck, I mean he or she or they can touch this man, without anything on...I’m too tired and lazy so not proofread

(the recipe of the pasta mentioned in the story is here especially for my vegetarian and lactose free friends 💅🏼)

Also fun fact: being a physiotherapist is my dream job and this makes me way too much delulu.

-✉️

I’m so insecure about my English, as I said it’s not my first language and I’m always scared to make mistakes or stuff like that, so if you find mistakes please let me know, I’ll be thankful and also my English will improve!

-✉️

As always requests are open!💘

A knock from the door of your little studio call your attention

“C’mon in, the door is open”

You say, closing your laptop to pay attention to him

A head covered with a black beanie and a smile with a pair of dimples appeared at your door.

“Hello, my beautiful, amazing wonderful y/n, the sun is shining, the birds are singing and-“

“What did you do?”

You cut him off

He close the door behind his back

“Let’s say that hypothetically I went to the gym”

He sits right in front of you

“Mh, you do it every day, what’s the problem?”

He giggles a little

“You know last time that we saw each other?”

He asks

“Yeah, umh Wednesday?”

“Mhmh, and what you did to me?”

“The-what? The usual massage? Back, neck, thigh, basically the whole body”

“Exactly, and you know that I was mad because of that little thing that I won't bring it up again?”

“Yes, what’s the problem Chan? I have a lot of things to do”

“Iwenttothegymrightafteroursession”

“Excuse me, what?”

You asked confused

“I-uh- don’t get mad please, you know that I love you, we are friends right? Your hair looks pretty today”

You look at him, raising your eyebrows waiting for the real answer

“I went to the gym, right after our session, and I lifted a couple weights, and umh- I heard a crack on my neck, but now everything hurts, so can you please fix me?”

“YOU DID WHAT?”

you raise your voice

“I’m sorry I was mad”

“Christopher”

You say

“Not the government name please, you scare the shit out of me when you call me ChRiStoPheR. And I know okay? You have all the rights to be mad at me, I’m sorry, but I was about to explode, my options were the gym or the big boss face”

“Take off your shirt”

You sight

“I love when you say that”

“Shut up, before I punch you in the face”

You say

“Rude”

He says

“Stupid”

You stand up and search on the little cabinet everything you need for the massage

“I’m sorry”

He looks at you

“It’s okay Chan. But when I tell you to rest after our sessions it’s because I mean it, it’s part of the healing process. Even Changbin listens to me, and you, more than me know that he’s a gym rat.”

“I know, I’m sorry I was just-“

“Overwhelmed?"

“Yes”

He says taking off his shirt

“You know that you can talk to me right? I’m not just here to fix y’all muscles, I’m a friend. You can call me, anytime, you say “y/n I had a bad day can we talk?”. 5 minutes walk and I’m at your dorm, and you know it Channie.”

Your tone is sweeter now

“It was three in the morning y/n, I- I didn’t want to wake you up, I’m a man, I can’t-“

“So sweet of you to think that I sleep at three. and Channie yes, you’re a man and you’re human and as a human you have emotions, it’s okay to feel overwhelmed sometimes or mad, sad, angry, emotionless, it’s totally fine, if you feel like you're about to explode than you need to talk"

He looks at you, silently

"you can call, or FaceTime me if you don't want me around, we don't need to talk about what's upsetting you, but you can't be alone with your thoughts"

"didn't know that you were this sweet you know?"

"I'm not sweet"

"mhmm, you're right you're more like a mom"

he smiles at you

“What? I’m younger than you”

“Meh, just a couple of years”

He says smiling

“C’mon, don’t stare at me like a little puppy, and put away the damn dimples, with those abs you look everything but cute”

“Oh yeah?”

“Shut up and lay on your stomach”

“Mhhhh, okay okay”

He lays down, giving a full view of his back, wider than when the two of you met, if you had him as a friend with benefits (for your studies of course) during your anatomy exam, you would probably have had the best score of the class.

As soon as your hands touch his back he twitches

“Ah fuck”

“I barely touched you”

You say

“Your hands are fucking cold y/n, where did you keep them inside the freezer?”

“God, you scared me. Don’t be a pussy, they will warm up, I promise”

You say touching him again

“Mhhhhh -he cries- usually you don’t have cold hands”

He says

“Because you’re the last one that I treat, I.N always get my cold hands, and he got used to it”

“Oh poor I.N, he-ah he has-ah to get through this”

“Stop whimpering”

“I’m not whimpering”

“Yes, you are”

“No, I’m-ah not”

“See, you’re a whimper man”

You say massaging the lower part of his back

"I'm not-ah-fuck"

"next time, if I say that you have to rest, go home, take a warm shower, eat something, and go to bed, you're lucky that you don't have a fever"

you slap his back

"aah what's wrong with you?"

"you're an asshole, and you act like a child"

you slap him again

"stop slapping me"

he says sitting down on the small massage bed

"no"

you slap him again

"oh my god stop it"

"no - you slap his chest - you know that you could've hurt your self huh? you and your stupid anger issues - you slap once again - what you were trying to gain to stupid bitch?"

"stop slapping me"

he says blocking your wrists

"I said I'm sorry, next time if I'll feel overwhelmed I'll call you okay? just bring soju with you"

"soju? wanna get drunk?"

you ask trying to escape from his grip

"fuck yes, I need to get drunk"

"I'll buy soju on my way home and you can come over okay?"

"you’re inviting me in your house?"

he asks, caressing your wrists with his thumb

"yeah, you know no boys around so we can talk freely, and I'll make dinner"

"mh...okay then"

he says smiling, showing once again his stupid dimples

"now, let me finish my job okay? go home, take a warm shower and then come over"

"okay mom"

"don't"

you try to hide a smile

"now lay down"

he stares at you

"please?"

you say, and this bitch lays down, just because you said please? fuck it's going to be looong night

"try not to whimper this time okay?"

you whisper near his hear

"I'll try, ma'am"

-

you just got out of the shower when you hear the doorbell

"SHIT, WAIT GIVE ME A SECOND"

you scream, trying to dress yourself as fast as you can, not thinking about who's your guest, but honestly you don't give a fuck, you're in your own house and it's summer, that's what you think trying to justify your shorts and tank top

"Hi Channie, I'm sorry I made you wait, come in"

"Oh, Hei no worries it's my fault, I should've texted you"

he says taking off his shoes before getting inside

"I wouldn't answered you, my phone died at work, and I was so late that the moment I came home, I prepared the sauce for the pasta and I jumped into the shower"

"no worries -he giggles- wanna help with dinner while you dry your hair?”

"oh no, stay away from my kitchen, set the table and open the red wine that you find in the counter"

"yes ma'am"

he says

"damn, this wine looks good where did you get it?"

"oh-my mom send a bunch of stuff from Italy to me, so I don't get homesick"

you say stirring the sauce

"stuff like alcohol?"

"yes, and food"

you laugh

"sooo much food, the best that I can do is sharing, you know sharing is caring"

"and what are you making tonight?"

he says looking over your shoulders

"mh, pasta all'arrabbiata"

"i have no idea of what it is but sounds good, also I've never heard you talking in italian, sounds sexy"

"CHAN"

"WHAT"

"stop it"

you say turning towards him

"what I'm not doing anything"

"you're flirting"

you say

"flirting? I don't know what flirting is"

he says with a smile on his face

"oh put those dimples away"

you say turning to the kitchen counter, checking if the pasta is ready, or maybe you don't want to show him your cheeks getting redder

"we can sit, while we wait for the pasta”

you say walking towards him

“wanna a glass of wine?"

"please, yes"

you say almost disparately, he pours two BIG glasses of wine

"cheers, to the best physiotherapist ever"

"to the most stubborn person I know, who can't listen"

you say looking him in the eyes

"cheers Chan"

"cheers y/n"

"so you think I'm stubborn huh?"

"oh yeah, definitely"

"why?"

he asks sipping his wine

"why what? why I think you're a stubborn?"

he nods

"you don't listen to people who care about you? and you do almost everything without thinking? and you think you're invicible, you try to keep everything on your shoulders forgetting that you're a human? mh yes, you're a stubborn"

"damn, you can't lie huh?"

"nope"

you say sipping some wine

"can I check the pasta or you're going to kill me?"

"no, I'll check it, in my house guests don't make dinner"

"mh, can I come here more often?"

he asks giggling

"of course, the door is always open for you...I mean you guys, you know, you and the boys, all of them"

you get up, slapping mentally your face

what the fuck y/n behave yourself, he's just a friend. A hot one tho, but just a friend.

thanks God the pasta is ready, you mix it with the sauce and then pour it in two plates

"here we go"

you say sitting next to Chan, he waits for you, and after you take the first bite, he starts eating with you

“You need something else?”

"absholutely noth, thish ish perfect"

he says with his mouth full of pasta, you smile at this sight of him, without his working dark aura. People says that he's scary as fuck when he's working, and they mean it, he change completely, especially when he is in the studio, it's like an alter ego (we can call it Christopher yeah)

"so...you like it?"

you ask taking a bite a food

"yesh -he swallows- I want you to come at the dorm and cook for me...I mean us everyday, oh you should do a cooking competition with Lee Know, I would probably die because the good food but it would be a great death"

you laugh

"it's called food coma"

"really?"

he asks

"mhmm, try my nonna's food then we can talk about food coma"

"nonna is...?"

"oh, my grandma, she is a great chef"

"then I have to meet her"

he says finishing his plate

"in order to meet her you have to go to Italy, also she doesn't speak a word of English or Korean so you have to learn Italian"

"for good food? I'll do everything. You can be my teacher, I'm sure that you know how to speak it"

"me? your teacher?"

"yes"

"why me?"

"because you can speak Italian and I want to spend more time with you"

you choke on wine

"you what?"

you try to speak between the cough

"you okay?"

he asks patting gently your back

"yes, I'm okay, thanks. You really mean it?"

you ask

"what?"

"that you want to spend more time with me"

"yes, and I don't mean at the studio. I want to know you better as a friend, as a person"

"fuck Chan"

you get up, taking both of the plates to wash it

"fuck Chan what?"

he follows you at the sink

"we can't, you-you can't know me better"

"why not?"

he asks shrugging his shoulders

"because-I can't"

"mh? you have a boyfriend in Italy?"

"no"

"then why I can't know you better?"

"my...my contract, I signed a contract when the company hired me"

"and?"

he asks

"I can't have anything with my patients, and you're one of them"

you say looking at him

"where is the problem? -he asks- we're not at the company, we're just two friends who had dinner together, with some wine"

he says getting closer to you

"Chan please...don't"

"what? I'm not doing anything"

he says

"I know, it's me, I'm the problem, I don't know if I can contain my self right now, not after what you said"

"then do it, don't contain your self"

"this-you move your hands between your bodies-won't happened ever again"

"I can't make this promise"

he traps you with his arms between his body and the sink

"fuck Chan"

you say before kissing him on the lips, they’re so soft and you fucking knew it.

“We shouldn’t do that”

You say in between the kisses

“Shut up”

He says lifting you up, your legs locked behind his back

“Fuck-fuck-fuck it’s cold”

You say when your ass touch the marble of the kitchen counter, he giggling in your lips. Hands on his curls, pulling almost too roughly but he doesn’t seem to mind it

“That’s the revenge for the massage with your stupid cold hands”

“Yeah? If this the revenge that i get I’ll switch your turn with I.N so you’ll have my cold hands on your body everyday”

You say kissing his neck, way too roughly, biting and sucking his soft skin. For sure he’s going to have marks all over his neck tomorrow, but there’s make up to cover it up right?

“Sofa, please”

You say looking in his eyes

“Fuck I love when you beg, it turns me on”

He says picking up by your thighs, walking to the small sofa in your living room.

“You get turned on easily huh?”

“Shut up, I bet that you’re wet since I came into your house”

He says sitting on the couch, your legs on each side of him

“I’m always wet when your around”

“Yeah? So many lost opportunities for my dick”

He says pouting, placing his hands on your ass

“None of my business”

You say smiling, kissing his lips again and again, his tongue sliding inside your mouth, so gently and sweet, he taste like good wine, and you feel you can almost get drunk just with his tongue (maybe you’re already are)

“Stop grinding on my dick or i will fuck you in this small sofa”

“Such a dirty mouth Christopher”

You say grinding on him once more

“Mmhph please don’t use that name”

“Why not whimper man?”

You say placing your hands on his abs

“Your accent, I don’t know it’s just, I don’t know”

“Wow, you have clear ideas”

You laugh getting more comfortable on his lap, even if there’s something hard hat almost bothers you.

“You know what I’ve been thinking the whole day? At the studio, in the shower, even while I was in the car to come here”

“What?”

“Your hands, and that thing that you said to me”

“Mh?”

You’re confused, trying to understand what his talking about

“Your handjobs”

“Ooooh that, why? I mean it’s just a handjob”

You say shrugging your shoulders

“Yeah but why they’re so special?”

“Oh you wanna know the key huh?”

He nods looking at you

“My job”

“They teach you how to do-“

“Nonono”

You laugh shaking your hands

“Because of my job I have to use a lot of massage oil, coconut oil and stuff like that, so my hands are soft”

“Oooh so that’s the key”

“Yeah, some love, and coconut oil or lube”

“So that’s why you smell like coconut”

You laugh

“Yes, but I have a question”

“What’s up?”

He asks

“Wanna try?”

“What?”

You look at him

“Oooh that? I-I mean if you want to”

“I’m asking for your consent Chris, I’ve teased you enough today”

You laugh

“You think? I’ve been hard the whole day, my balls might be turned blue, so it’s a yes”

“Give me a second okay?”

You leave a kiss on his lips and go to your bed room searching for the coconut oil (that of course it’s in your bed side table for scientific purposes👀) you glance quickly your self in the mirror and you’re a mess, but don’t mind it.

“Here I am”

You say, sitting once again on his lap

“Let me warm you up a little more yeah?”

You say kissing his lips way more roughly than the first time, and a moan slips into your mouth

“Here you are my favorite whimper boy”

You say grinding your hips on him

“Mhhphf, I’m not whimpering, it’s just that- it’s the first time that someone - I’m the one who’s on top usually”

“Uuuh we have a dom here mh? Interesting, but let me be the one in control tonight yeah?”

“Please…y/n it hurts please do something”

He says in a desperate tone, kissing you so roughly that your lips are going to be swollen tomorrow

You work with his pants, taking out his warm and hard cock, that is leaking pre-cum liquid

“So needy”

You look at him in the eyes, you open the little jar and squeeze it a couple of drops drop in your dominant hand

“Can I?”

“Yes, please y/n please”

You slowly trace you fingertips around the head of his dick, spreading the pre cum liquid, making his dick slippery.

You wrap your hand around his dick, stroking it up and down so slowly that he looks so desperate.

“God- Please move, this is so frustrating”

He says placing his hands on top of yours

“Ah-ah put this hands behind your back, you can’t touch it”

“But it’s my cock”

He says arguing

“You have two options, you can place your hands behind you back and let me do my job, or I can tie you up so can’t move at all”

You say still stroking his dick

“No, no okay, I’ll put them behind my back”

“Such a good boy”

You kiss his lips, a deep moan sleeping out of his mouth. You place your hand on the base of his dick, using a tighter grip then before, moving it up and down paying attention to his head and to the most sensitive part of it.

“Mhhphf-fuck”

You keep moving your hand on him, and you know that he’s close by the way he move his body, the way he breathe, and the way he’s looking at you, his hands on your ass has a tighter grip now

“Fuck, I’m about to cum, please, please don’t stop.”

And of course you don’t stop, you already played too much with him, you stroke his cock faster now and he cums, a warm load of white and thick liquid running down his dick. You lick your fingers smiling, his head resting on your shoulder.

“Fuck”

He giggles

“What-who are you? Jesus Christ I’m-”

You giggle with him

“Now I’ll have a boner every time you treat me at the studio, you and your stupid coconut oil”

You laugh louder now, knowing that it’s not a joke.

“You laughing at me?”

He asks looking at you

“Yeah, maybe”

You shrug your shoulders

“Right…let me see if you can handle Christopher, yeah?”

He gets up, picking you up on one of his shoulders

“Waaaaa, what does this mean? Chaaaaan put me down”

“Ahah, Chan is not available at the moment call him later”

He says picking up that stupid coconut oil and walking away from the couch

“Now, tell me where is your bed room”

-

-

A/N: I think this is my first real smut, uhm this is so embarrassing, imma eclisse my self bye love you

#skz #chansshands thoughts #bang chan #stray kids #bang chan x reader #skz scenarios #bang chan fanfic #bangchan #christopher bang chan #bang chan smut #bang chan x female reader #bang chan x y/n #christopher bang chan smut

[shoddynomenclature]

Companions with a Temporarily Blinded Reader

Featuring Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, Minthara, and Jaheira

Listen I know this probably isn’t how curses work, but we’re just gonna suspend a bit of disbelief here. It’s what worked most conveniently with my idea.

After a rather tense and extensive battle, you are left cursed and unable to see. Luckily, the curse is temporary, but neither you nor your companions know that quite yet…

Shadowheart (and Isobel and Dame Aylin)

Shadowheart takes your face into her hands. The sheer terror on your face lets her know something is deeply wrong. Your eyes dart around, never meeting hers.

“Hey, look at me. You’re okay. Just focus on me,” she attempts to soothe you, but as your panic only escalates, she realizes. “You can’t see me.”

You shake your head frantically. You had hoped it was just a thick fog that would dissipate after your enemies fell. But, given that she can see you, this is clearly a different problem.

A quick investigation with her arcane knowledge tells her this is a curse, but she can’t decipher any more than that.

She asks Karlach if she could carry you back to the Elfsong, but opts for leading you herself when her request is met with a whine and squeeze of her wrist from you. You want her and no one else right now.

When you return to the Elfsong, Shadowheart gathers Isobel and Dame Aylin for a deeper look. If there was ever a situation where it was best to have three Selunites as your best friends, it was right now.

It was Isobel who discovered the nature of the curse. It would wear off in a couple of hours and your sight would be restored by morning.

Aylin insisted she carry you to bed, and you agreed under the condition Shadowheart would follow close behind.

When you all arrived in your room, Shadowheart sat on the bed next to you and you begged her to stay with you all night. She agreed without hesitation.

You even agreed to let Isobel come in at some points during the night to look over you and see how the curse was progressing.

You weren’t much able to sleep, but with Shadowheart gently caressing your back, you were able to calm down quite a bit.

Lae’zel

As soon as she realizes you can’t see, she throws you over her shoulders and carries you back to the inn.

You are deposited onto the ground in front of Shadowheart, who didn’t join today’s adventure.

Lae’zel leaves her with one instruction: “Fix them. Quickly.”

Lae’zel leaves the room before the curse is even discovered to be a temporary curse that will lift with time. You can hear her footsteps outside the room as she paces the hallways.

She comes in about 30 minutes later, asking if you had been cured. When Shadowheart explains the situation she scoffs and leaves again to continue her anxious pacing.

She continues to come in every 15-30 minutes asking if you are better yet. She eventually swaps out the pacing for sharping her weapons on the whetstone out front.

The entire inn complained of the never ending grinding noise that continued on all night. By the time your vision was properly restored, even Gale’s blunt quarterstaff was sharpen into a point.

Karlach

When Karlach finds you blinded and curled up in the middle of the empty battlefield, she really has to try and keep herself calm. She races over to you and kneels on the ground next to you.

You feel the heat radiating off her body before she speaks. “Karlach?” You reach your arms out towards the heat, terrified when you don’t reach far enough and find nothing more than air.

“Yes baby, it’s me, I’m here,” she stammers trying to keep herself from tears for your sake. She places her hands in yours and scrambles towards you. “Are you okay?” She asks, surprised to find no obvious wounds.

Tears pour from your eyes as you shake your head. “Karlach I can’t see you. I can’t see… I can’t…” you cry on the verge of full blown panic.

She pulls you into her arms, looking into your terrified eyes. Your arms flail around, tracing what you know to be her body. Each identifiable feature eases your mind ever so slightly. This is your Karlach, everything will be okay.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. We… we’re gonna get you home, okay?” she attempts to soothe you while keeping her own breath in check. “I’m gonna take care of you. I know you’re scared, but I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you.”

You lay your head against her chest, listening to the clack of her engine. You wrap your hands around the straps of her armor, feeling like you might fly away if you don’t hold on tight.

When you arrive at the inn, Shadowheart, Halsin, and Gale are already in your room. They had already heard what happened and are ready to find a solution.

You hold her tight, and, in turn, she holds you tight against her chest. Even when Halsin motions for her to lay you down on the bed, she shakes her head and wraps an arm protectively around yours.

Halsin looks to Gale who shrugs and then to Shadowheart who also shrugs. “Very well,” he said finally. “I must take a look at them but you can hold them while I do so.”

Karlach sits down on the bed, keeping a close eye on Halsin as he looks you over.

“They have been cursed. Luckily, seeing that the caster is dead, the curse should fade with time. They will be back to normal by morning,” Halsin concludes.

Karlach smiles and kisses your face. “You hear that bub? By morning you’ll be right as rain.”

Still terrified, you keep your face buried against Karlach’s chest. But you mumble out a quick “thank you Halsin.”

“They’re likely still a bit… disoriented. I would tell you to keep them close, but I see you need no instruction on that,” he smiles softly. “We’ll give you some privacy.”

After they all leave, you sit up on Karlach’s lap. You trace her body, drawing lines between her vents, dragging your finger down the tip of her nose, feeling her horn all the way to the very tip. It makes you feel better, like the world isn’t so different from how you remember.

She spends the night letting you orient her and yourself in whichever way feels best for you. You end up asleep entirely on top of her, head still pressed against her glowing chest.

Minthara

Minthara has actually dealt with her fair share of blindings before, as blindness is a common side effect of poison.

Typically, such blindness is permanent, and is taken care of with a knife to the throat. It would be seen as disrespectful to keep the blinded alive with such an affliction.

But as she looks into your vulnerable, terrified eyes glazed over with cursed blindness and she can’t bring herself to even think about hurting you.

“Minthara?” You call out weakly. “Anyone? Is anyone there?” You fall to your knees. You have no idea how the battle ended or what is happening. Is anyone else still alive? Are you still alive?

“I am with you,” she says, gently reaching out to touch your chin. You grab at her arm, your only tie to any part of reality aside from the ground. Typically Minthara would lecture you for seeking so desperately for her contact, but she will allow it just this once.

She leads you back to the Elfsong, arm wrapped protectively around your side and one of her hands in yours. She’s gentle with her commands, gently pulling you around when it’s clear you’ve been overwhelmed with “left” and “right”s.

When you both get back, she allows the Selunites to look over you while she prepares your bed.

She is so relieved to learn it’s a temporary curse that would be gone by morning. She did not yet know what she would do if the affliction was permanent. She is glad she will never have to make the decision.

When she returns you to your bed, you realize it is full of all the softest and most comfortable linens Baldur’s Gate has to offer. She explains that normally such frivolous things would be unnecessary, but with one of your senses down she wanted to make sure you could find comfort in the sense you did have.

She sits next to you and holds your hand while you fall asleep, smiling softly as you wiggle around under the soft blankets.

Jaheira

Your chest rapidly heaves as you look around the battlefield and find yourself blinded. You wordlessly scream into the emptiness.

Jaheira approaches you, still in her beast form from combat. You feel as soft fur fades into her robes against your hands.

You cry out in relief when you hear her voice tell you the battle is over.

When you tell her you can’t see she recognizes the curse immediately, gently reassuring you that it will be lifted soon with time.

She wild shapes into an owlbear, beckoning you onto her back. You lie down against her with your arms out around her neck for support. You immediately begin to calm down, feeling grounded by the full body contact.

She gently wiggles you off her back when you arrive back at the inn, allowing her to return to her half-elf form.

She doesn’t spend the night pampering you, but everything you ask for, she does for you.

It helps you feel grounded when she touches you, so she pulls you into her lap and wraps her arms around you.

It helps when she talks to you so she spends the night reading to you and telling you stories until you fall asleep.

You ask her to sing to you, but she chuckles, and simply says “no.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 minthara #minthara #minthara x reader #minthara x tav #karlach #bg3 jaheira #bg3 karlach #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 x reader #bg3 shadowheart #shadowheart x reader #shadowheart x tav #shadowheart #laezel x reader #lae’zel x tav #lae'zel #laezel #karlach x reader #jaheira x tav #jaheira x reader #jaheira

[marypaol]

Cold Heart

Draco x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Aftermath of a fight, soft angst, that’s all :)

Summary: Reader and Draco have a fight over something they can’t even remember and they sleep in separate beds. But all that changes when Reader has a nightmare.

Note: I don’t use Y/N, if that’s okay :)

***

The feelings inside her chest were unbearable. It was a feeling of loneliness and hurt settling in her chest making her feel uneasy. The tension between them was thick yet awkward at the same time, so thick she didn’t know what to say next. Like if she tried to say something the air would drown out her words and they would be faded before they even reached his ears.

The so called fight was horrible. They both said things they didn’t mean, and called each other names they didn’t really think each other were. Their actions were foolish, getting upset over something that wasn’t important enough to affect their relationship. The thing neither of them would admit is that they didn’t even remember how it started. That was the thing about arguments. Once they start they keep adding up until it explodes, but no one knows what set it of in the first place.

The girl felt small under his sharp gaze, the once soft eyes that looked at her were now hard and stern. The sudden cold air made her shiver but of course he had no reaction. He just stood there, staring her down, making her more uncomfortable by the minute.

She swallowed her regret and pain for the night, deciding to deal with it the next day. “I’ll sleep in the guest room.” She mumbled oh so quietly, not even sure he heard her and slowly made her way to the bedroom, her feet softly padding on the floor the only sound in the room besides Draco’s breathing.

Draco didn’t do anything to stop her, not even changing his body language as a sign he wanted her to stay. It was almost like he wanted her to leave, wanted her to sleep in a separate bed just because they couldn’t act like mature adults properly solving out their relationship problems. So he stood there watching her leave and still watched as door closed, leaving him with the wood staring at him. The man sighed, running a rough pale hand through his even paler hair, tugging at the strands until it hurt. His hand went to his chest next, tugging harshly at the tie that was tied at the collar, something that seemed to be getting tighter each minute. He felt like he was being choked. He untied it and threw it hardly on the ground, the fabric making a sharp slapping noise. He himself was cold, the unexplained breeze sending shivers up his arms as he traveled to their bedroom, totally expecting her sleeping figure to be there, soft skin laying on the silk sheets, eyelashes tangled together as her eyes fluttered from time to time. But he know that even when that happened she wouldn’t wake, for that was a sign she was in deep slumber, not planning on getting out of it any time soon. But once he walked in he found the temperature even colder; the absence of the girl seeming to have an effect on the atmosphere itself. The bed was empty and the sight was unsettling to his chest, almost like her in the bed was something that needed to happen in order for him to feel content.

Sadly the feeling of discomfort didn’t go away even when he decided to sleep on her side of the bed, her scent evolving him like a quilt, the warmth of the smell almost overwhelming. The goosebumps on his skin seemed to go away just by smelling her, like just a piece of her could fix his smallest problems.

Draco slept restlessly that night, his eyes fluttering open every couple hours until he finally found himself falling back asleep again, only to do the same thing a couple hours later.

It wasn’t until he felt another presence in the room, someone’s eyes on him as he slept that his eyes finally decided to stay open for more than five minutes. He glanced at the doorway, the darkness seeming to spread as he focused on one spot. He heard heavy breathing, the person obviously trying to stop it so it wouldn’t wake him up. Little did they know he woke up because he felt her in his presence, not heard it. Almost like he couldn’t just feel her when he’s awake but also when he’s asleep.

“Hey,” he grumbled, his arm coming out of beneath the pillow, the pillow being almost permanently bent because of his arm squeezing it. The girl in the doorway shifted her weight on each foot, her body rocking back and forth as she did so.

“Come here,” he requested, rolling over so she could reclaim her spot. She hesitantly walked over to the bed, stopping when she was next to her side, hands fiddling with her-his- shirt. His hand reached out to her, fingers connecting to her arms, stroking the skin there. Her skin was still warm from the bed sheets, telling him that she wasn’t standing there for long before he woke up.

Silence wrapped around them for a while as his fingers continued to massage her skin, warm against warm. He knew she found comfort in it since she was practically melting into his touch. He wrapped his slender fingers around her wrist softly and lightly tugged as a signal he wanted her to join him in the silky bed sheets.

“Come here,” he grumbled again, fingers going down her wrist to connect his hand with hers. She stepped closer at the repeated request, like she convinced herself that the first one was a misheard, and that she needed reassurance. Her knee stepped up on the bed, arms reaching out to him for a seek of comfort. His arms settled on her hips, guiding her as she settled into bed with him.

She chose to lay on her back, eyes settled on the ceiling but her arm was still touching his. He only noticed then that her cheeks were damp and eyelashes wet.

“Hey,” he said comfortingly, fingers going up to her hair to stroke it out of her face; continuing to do so even after it was out of the way. “No tears, alright love? No tears,”

She sniffed, eyes glazing over but nothing escaping. Her lips parted and she breathed through her mouth for a couple seconds before she spoke.

“I had a nightmare,”

Draco sighed as a sign to say he felt bad, hand moving to her ear so he could stroke it carefully.

“I’m sorry, loves.” He said softly. “I wish I was there when you woke up.”

“I was scared you would still be mad.” She stated anxiously. He shook his head before she could finish speaking, lips leaning forward so he could peck at her cheeks, kissing the tears away one by one. He then backed up but still stayed close by, her right hand coming up to wrap around his neck. His silver orbs met her glossy ones, eyes searching for any emotion in her eyes. “Listen darling, I would never stay mad at you for coming to me for comfort,” he started, rubbing their noses together softly before looking into her eyes again. “You are mine, and if you need anything I’m here to give it to you.”

She smiled ever so softly, fingers stroking at his hair on the back of his neck. “All I need is you, and you already gave that to me. There isn’t anything else I need more.”

#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #draco malfoy angst #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #draco x reader #stories #imagines #hogwarts imagine #malfoy x reader #tom felton x reader #x reader #reader insert

[slutforleeminho]

I have a Suggestion • Han Jisung

Jisung has a suggestion as to how to help you with your insanely high sex drive

You would never consider yourself a slut, but the constant ache in your lower region made it difficult to keep your pants on. You discovered this in high school when you’d come home and make a b line straight to your nightstand where you kept your vibrator and some lube just in case. But you never needed it, your panties were always soaked at the end of the day. The littlest things would get your heart rate up and body burning with need, like that one time freshman year when a very handsome boy had to squeeze between you and someone else, placing his hands on your hips and slipping through the small space, rubbing his entire front against your back and his lower half against your ass. You had to run to the bathroom the relieve the pressure that was building up. And that very same boy is now someone you would trust with your life.

Han Jisung.

He was your best friend and also the only person who knows about your problem. Well it wasn’t a problem at first but it turned into one when you started to go out every Friday and Saturday night with intentions to get railed by complete strangers. And jisung didn’t like that at all. “Are you trying to get aids?” He’d asked you after the third weekend of you going out and not coming home till the morning. And then he started staying over at your place on the weekends just to hold you hostage so you could go out and fall into temptation. But little did he know he wasn’t making it any easier on you, especially when he walked around your apartment in nothing but a towel hanging lowly on his hips, showing off his toned stomach and a prominent v line disappearing underneath the material. And a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, while he walked to the room to grab something out of his bag. He always slept in your bed with you, “to make sure you don’t run off in the middle of the night” he explained while settling under the blankets and letting out a satisfied hum. You didn’t mind sharing a bed with him at all, but it made it difficult on the nights you so desperately needed to touch yourself. And you won’t even lie, sometimes…. you did, with your best friend less than a foot away from you. And you could’ve swore that those nights your orgasms were so much more intense. But you couldn’t figure out why.

It was currently Saturday night and jisung was in the kitchen making you both dinner. It was a sweet gesture but it made your whole body heat up from the sight of him. You finally decided to stop ogling him and walk into the kitchen, and throw your top half over the kitchen island and groan as loud groan of frustration. “Can I pleeeeease just go out tonight? I’ll only be gone for a couple hours.” You smile up at him, giving him your best puppy dog eyes, hoping the cuteness would seduce him into letting you leave, your underwear is probably already ruined so you need to get out of here before you do something you’ll regret. “No” is all he says, continuing on the food. “You let you head fall onto the counter, with a loud thump and a whine coming from your mouth. “This is so annoying” you started flopping around like a fish, your whole body convulsing. “You aren’t my dad y’kow” your voice somewhat muffled by your hair thrown all over your face. “I might as well be, now get up before you get your hair in the food. Why are you whining anyways?” He asked as you straightened you body and fixed your hair.

“It’s uh… kinda tmi” You avoided eye contact by looking at you hands.

“Well go ahead. I already know all your dirty secrets anyway” Did he know you masterbate with him right next to you while you look at his beautiful face as a visual? Probably not.

You took a deep breath and said it before you could think too much about it and chicken out. “I already got off this morning and I still feel like I’m gonna explode. So please let me go out.” Your voice was high pitched. “I have a better idea” You waited for him to continue, open to anything at this point. “ let’s watch porn together, and you can touch yourself if you want too. But I don’t want you out there sleeping around with other guys.” You were stunned for a moment but then imagining the outcome of this. “I don’t know. I get really….. weird when I’m in the mood.” You said recalling the other times you’ve almost gone crazy chasing after your high. “I don’t think straight and I take things too far.”

“I’m okay with whatever you choose as long as you stay.” You could already feel list clouding you senses and you don’t think you couldn’t go without some kind of release tonight. You finally agreed after some time and jisung reassuring you that nothing would change between the both of you and that this was just him helping you out as a friend. He placed his laptop on the coffee table in the living room and pulled up the website “he often uses” he had said. You both sat in the floor in front of it, your backs pressed against the sofa. “What do like to watch?” He turned his head to look at you, while you were staring at the choices on the computer screen, all of the were just regular maleXfemale in missionary. You looked back at jisung almost embarrassed to tell him what you always watch but you do anyways.

“Lesbian” Your voice lower than a whisper. Jisungs eyes got bigger and his dick twitched in his pants. If he wasn’t hard earlier (which he was, seeing you get all needy and beg to let you go out and get dicked down) he was now. He nodded and clicked on the search bar to type it out, and letting you pick which video. You clicked on a video by you favorite creators. A sweet couple, both beautiful, and one of them had the sweetest moans. The video is mostly forplay, one of the girls sucking on her tits and groping her ass and eventually rubbing her middle finger up and down her cunt, making her whimper and grind against her hand. You glanced over at jisung, his arms were crossed and his legs were spread, giving you the perfect view of his hard on. His eyebrows were scrunched together in concentration and his lip tucked between is teeth. He was breathing heavily and you could tell he was just as horny as you were now. “I’ll be right back” you said, abruptly standing up and heading to you room. You returned with a blanket and jisung thought nothing of it, you were probably just cold. But as time went on he noticed a little bit of movement under the blanket right in between your thighs. He was so focused on the slight movements he didn’t notice you were staring at him, not halting your movements even a little. When he did look up and meet your gaze he almost came in his pants. You looked so fucked out already, your lips parted and eyebrows scrunched a little from the pleasure, but what really had him going was the way you were looking at him while you did it. I. Fact your hand sped up once you made eye contact and you looked him up and down. “Touch yourself” you finally said. “I don’t have a blanket” he smirked looking down at your covering. You flung it from off your body and threw it at him. “Here you can have mine” you retorted. His jaw almost hit the floor when his eyes scanned over your body. Your short you were wearing earlier we’re now around your ankles along with your underwear. But what shocked him the most is that the movement under that blanket wasn’t just your hand rubbing your cunt, it was a pink dildo. So that must’ve been why you went to your room.

Even with Jisungs eyes on you, you didn’t stop your movements, still plunging the toy in and out of your dripping cunt. He sat there for a moment, surprised by your boldness. “Jisung” he pulled his eyes away from your body to look at your face. “That looks painful” your eyes trailed down his own body. His eyes followed to where yours were looking, and landed on his crotch, where his jeans have gotten significantly tighter. “Ji please” your voice was airy. You rarely called him that unless you were really desperate and trying to convince him of something. He finally gave in and placed his hand over his bulge and started palming himself through his pants. Letting out a sigh of relief, you were right, it was getting painful. But that only lasted a few minutes before you wanted more. “Take off your pants” It went on like that until his pants and underwear were discarded and joined the pile of your own clothes. He was lazily stroking his cock while staring at the screen. While you were staring and him. His toned thighs, the way his hand wrapped around his length, the precum beading at the tip before he swiped his thumb over it to use as lubricant. It was making your insides flutter. Soon he was aggressively pulling at his cock, trying to relieve the building pressure growing in his lower abdomen. You were fucking yourself at the same pace, attempting to match his movements. You were both getting so close but you just couldn’t seem to fully get there. “Ji…. “ he snapped his head in your direction to see what you needed, only find you with your head thrown back over the couch cushion with your eyes screwed shut and you face contorted in pleasure.

Were you…… moaning his name?

Your eyes slowly opened and your head tilted to look at him one last time before you exploded. “Fuck Ji” you let out a drawn out moan and you whole body convulsed and twitched as the wave of pleasure crashed over you. Jisung couldn’t help but watch as you reached your end, squeezing himself a little harder while thrusting up into his hand while spurts of cum painted his hand and thighs. His hand slowed as he came down from his high even though he was still hard. But you didn’t stop, you kept going even after your orgasm. You arched your back from the overstimulation but kept going while letting out small whimpers. “Not enough” you said quietly, still out of breath. “What do you mean?” Jisung asked, clearly confused. “It’s not enough Ji I need……” your wrist finally slowed and you pulled the toy out of you and set it to the side. You sat up straight and looked into his eyes. “I need you to fuck me Jisung” his eyes widen and his lips parted like he wanted to respond but he couldn’t. “Please” you begged.

He wasn’t about to miss possibly his only chance to be with you.

“I thought you’d never ask” he shot up from his spot on the floor and hovered over you, placing his lips to your neck and his hands on your covered breasts. You moaned as he sucked on the most sensitive spots on your neck and collar bone. He raised your shirt up until it was over your head and thrown across the room. Once you were completely exposed to him he dove into your chest, sucking and licking at your nipple and then moving to give the same attention to the other one. Your fingers were tangled in his hair, gently pulling and urging him to continue. He trailed down your abdomen and lest soft kisses on your inner thighs. After some encouraging from your whines and whimpering he finally licked a long stripe up your center before diving in and sucking on your clit.

“Shit Ji” your back arched and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. His tongue worked wonders on you, pushing in and out of your entrance and nudging you closer to the edge once more. He pushed two fingers inside of you and curled them while roughly sucking on your clit. Your fingers pulled harshly at his hair making him moan. The vibrations shot through your body and your legs began to shake and your body convulsed as your second orgasm hit you hard. Your thighs wrapped around his head and his tongue slowed as you came down from your high.

Before he could even say a word you were pulling him up to you and begging for more. “I need you inside me” you wrapped your legs around his torso and pulled his shirt off of him. “You weren’t kidding when you said you don’t think straight” he smirked down at you. “Do you wanna stop?” You raised your eyebrows at him, daring him to say yes. “No” is all he said. “Good, cause I might cry if we do.” He was about to say something smart but you cut him off by kissing him. Aggressive. Aggressive was the only word to describe it. All teeth and tongue, moaning into each other’s mouth. Desperate to feel something, anything, you placed you hand around his throbbing cock and aligned it with you core, squeezing it slightly. You ground your hips upwards and his tip pressed against your entrance but didn’t quite enter. You were the first one to break the kiss. “Please just put it in Ji” you felt like you would explode if you didn’t release soon. “You’ve tortured me enough tonight”

“Oh not nearly enough” he was smiling ear to ear which worried you.

“Save it for another time”

“There’ll be another time?”

“If you don’t want me going out then yes” apparently that was all it took for him to finally push in, filling you up perfectly. The stretch was amazing, he may not be the biggest guy you’ve been with but he was at least in the top five.

His thrust started out slow but soon sped up, per your request. He was hitting every spot just right, making your toes curl. You ran your hand down his abdomen, he didn’t have abs but he was toned, and the firmness was making you clench around him. With every thrust you could see his muscles clench and unclench, you could hear his heavy breathing and quiet moans. You could see a thin layer of sweat building on his skin, the way his hair was sticking to his forehead and his lips were parted. His eyes were screwed shut, probably trying his hardest not to cum to soon. You never looked so closely at the people you slept with, but now you were taking in every detail of him, drinking in the way he moans your name and holds you so tight. It was so intimate and was going to have you coming for the third time very soon. “Oh my gosh” was all you could get out before you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you, and moaning his name as your walls clamped around him making it hard for him to move. But the tightness made his hips stutter and suddenly he was spilling his seed into you without a warning.

He collapsed on top of you, unable to move as he came back to earth. Your fingers played with his sweaty hair while you both just layer in your living room floor completely naked. “That was the best idea you’ve ever had” you stared at the ceiling until he lifted his head to look at you. “Are you satisfied now?” He asked jokingly. “I could go another round” you answered not so jokingly.

PLEASE READ

First i would like to say THANK YOUUU SO MUCH FOR 200 FOLLOWERS!!!!!!! This is so exciting! And I would also like to apologize for not being active. After the passing of Astro member Moonbin and some personal things happened, I felt like I needed a break from everything. And after this incident I created a twitter and instagram account dedicated to saying kind things about skz. I know people say we can’t help them but I’m sure as hell going to try. They’ll probably never see it and that’s fine but I just want them to know how loved they are. Please I beg you go follow it so it can grow and reach more stays and possibly skz, it’s stayville143 and you can dm that account of something you would like to say about them and I’ll surely post it. I’m so sorry for the long message but I’m tired of seeing these idols lose their lives to hate. And I don’t think I could take it if something happened to any of straykids.

Taglist: @yumiblogs

#kpop #kpop oneshots #kpop senarios #kpop smut #stray kids #skz #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz smut #han jisung #jisung x reader #jisung imagines #jisung scenarios #jisung smut #skz jisung #han jisung skz #han jisung smut #han jisung stray kids #han jisung scenarios #han stray kids #stray kids smut #straykids han #slutforleeminho

[doberbutts]

Okay. So. Longass post while I eat dinner and wait for my controller to charge and then I’m going back to my game.

The problem is it’s never actually been about the word itself.

We tried transandrophobia. Transmisandry. Isomisogyny. Transmascphobia. Anti-transmasculinity. People fought about literally all of them, saying they don’t exist, that they legitimize incel and terf language, that they’re some power grab, that they’re inherently transmisogynistic.

We tried transmisogyny and were told it was just for trans women and that we couldn’t use it.

We tried “transphobia specific to trans mascs”. We were told there is no such thing. That other demographics experience it and thus it’s actually theirs and not ours to discuss. We brought up trans mascs with genders marked M or X being denied abortions, pap smears, and other reproductive care. Trans mascs correctively raped by their significant others and spouses they were forced by their families to marry. Trans mascs who were targeted specifically because they were trans mascs, often buried as women under their dead names to be forever misgendered by history. We were told we were making it up and that we were weaponizing our womanhood by discussing these lived experiences.

We tried “just” misogyny. We were told that as men, we weren’t allowed to say that we experienced misogyny because trans men are men and men never experience misogyny and thus our very real experiences weren’t really ours and they weren’t that bad.

We tried “just” transphobia. We were told that as trans men, we don’t really experience transphobia because any transphobia we do experience is actually transphobia about trans women and thus our very real experiences weren’t really ours and they weren’t that bad.

You don’t have to take my word for it. You can go into the tags of any of those words and see exactly that being discussed in real time right now in 2023. I’ve even got screenshots from @baeddel-txt if you want to give yourself psychic damage by reading truly the worst takes ever from 2014 onwards.

At some point, one has to admit what it’s actually about is stopping trans mascs from discussing the way they’ve been treated by society, and stopping others from considering that maybe the way they’ve been treating us is a problem.

And make no mistake- while some of it is coming from trans fems and it’s impossible to say it’s not, just as there’s shit-flinging in reverse from trans mascs to trans fems as well, because for some reason we prefer to blame each other rather than working together to solve our problems as a collective- if you take a scroll through these tags a lot of it is coming from cis people and fellow trans mascs. A lot of it is coming from other LGBT or otherwise queer-identified people and a lot of it matches previous attempts at killing the ace, bi, and pansexual communities using the same arguments that the internet likes to cycle through every couple of years and has been doing since online communities began to exist.

So, I ask you, if you got through this and still want to write a witty retort, what have you done to help us fix the staggering amounts of suicide, sexual assault, and beatings we face? What have you done to help us fix the staggering amounts of us being denied necessary healthcare? What is your solution to all this, besides to sit at your computer or scroll through your phone and quibble about whether or not the specific word is allowed to be used this week?

[mykneeshurt]

Wrath

Title picture by @loneghostwolf

Soap x AFAB!reader

Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, p in v, m oral receiving, f oral receiving, unprotected sex, rough sex, breath play, praise kink, spit kink, hate sex, allusions to cock warming

I apologise for cheesey lines in this lmfao again not proofread because I’m so tired

John McTavish.

Johnny.

Fucking Soap.

An absolute thorn in your side since your first day with 141. Fast forward 8 months and the team had grown tired of your constant bickering and arguing. Every little situation, every single thing you did he had to make a comment. The bickering normally ended with you shouting ‘suck my dick Soap!’

Then came the constant comments. The constant jokes, it wore you down so fast. There were times when you did actually get on but they were few and far between. Gaz and Ghost often joked you needed to fuck to release the tension. They were met with middle fingers from each of you, both telling them to ‘fuck off’ in unison. Which naturally spurred them on further. They compared you to an old married couple.

It came to a head after a sparring session one day, you’d been paired with Soap to your utter dismay. ‘Knew you didn’t have it in you to hit me princess’ he chided, a stupid fucking smirk on his face. ‘Don’t call me princess’ you spat, eyes glaring straight through him. ‘Why? You fuckin act like one.’

‘I’m fuckin warning you John.’ He put his hands up in a fake surrender ‘oooh, usin my full name are we hen? Must be in trouble.’

You saw red.

Leaping across the mats your shoulder connected with his chest in an almighty thud. It knocked him to the floor, winding him. You scrambled to your feet and managed to get a lucky kick into his abdomen. He swiped at your legs and sent you flying backwards, you landed straight in your arse letting out a yelp as you landed.

That’s when Price and Ghost intervened. ‘I’ve had a fuckin tit full of you two’ Ghost shouted, he gripped Soap by the scruff of his collar as he pulled him up. Price was more gentle with you but still pissed. ‘In the meeting room. Now.’ Price ordered as he matched you both out of the gym.

They shoved you into the room and Price stared you both down. ‘Now. I don’t care how you resolve this, but fuckin sort it out! You’re both doin my Swede in and I’ve had a fuck full. I don’t wanna see you again till it’s done. Am I understood?’ His face was stern and unforgiving. He meant business.

You both looked at him, feeling like children who’d been scolded by their father. ‘Yes sir’ you replied together, egos bruised, frustrations near boiling point. ‘Good’ he replied simply before shutting the door.

You sat on one of the tables, eyes fixed on the floor refusing to look at him. He stood opposite, leant against the wall, arms crossed, brow furrowed as he glared at you. ‘What’s your fuckin problem?’ He scowled. You shot your head up to look at him ‘my problem?! My fucking problem?! All you do is wind me up and take the piss out of me. How do you think I’m gonna react? By kissing your boots and thanking you? Fuck off.’ Your face was tight, pure unfiltered rage seeping from your skin.

‘Just banter hen’ he shrugged. Dismissive prick. ‘Don’t piss on me and tell me it’s raining John. You’re a dick.’

‘I’m a dick? Talkin some right ol shit there lass. We’re only in here cause o’you!’

‘Because you wouldn’t stop calling me princess, you know I hate it!’

He walked over to you, his feeble attempt to intimidate you. He stood in front of you, arms still crossed, biceps bulging as he lingered there. You glared up at him, mouth pressed into a firm line. ‘Your intimidation tactics don’t work here John. Grow up. You’re nothing but a jumped up nobody from the fuckin slums who got lucky.’ You voice was full of venom, poison seeped from every word.

Gripping your shirt he slammed you backwards onto the desk, panting beneath him you smiled up at him. ‘What’s the matter John? Hit a nerve have I? You know I’m right. You play the jester well, but we all know you’re a pathetic excuse of a man.’ You gripped his hand that was wound within your shirt, you knew you’d gone too far. You knew damn well he was a good solider and one who always had your back on the field. But you were so done with his shit you wanted to hurt him.

He lowered his face to within an inch of yours, his blue eyes a deep void of rage and contempt. His breath fanned over your lips as he desperately tried to regain all control. You offered up a smug grin, chest still heaving, waiting for him to make the next move. He was stood over you, his free hand in a tight fist as he chewed his jaw. Your thighs clenched together ever so gently.

‘What’s the matter Johnny? You look like you wanna hit me or fuck me. Which is it?’

You knew what you wanted.

‘You’re such a fuckin bitch.’

With that his lips came crashing to yours as you flung your arms around his neck, pulling him deeper. You nails raked the surface of his scalp as he groaned into your mouth. It was a frenzy of lips, tongue and teeth as you both battled for dominance. Finally letting go of your shirt he cupped your jaw, his calloused thumb pulled at your lips. Wrapping your legs around his waist you could feel his hard cock press against your cunt.

Adrenaline surged through you as your heart collided with your ribs. He dropped a hand and pawed at your breast through your shirt. His rough grip pulled a moan from deep within your chest, causing you to dig you nails into the sensitive part of his neck. He hissed slightly as he moved away from your mouth and nipped your ear, ‘knew you wanted t’fuck me’ he smirked as he bit into your neck.

You jolted your hips up at the sudden pain that radiated along your neck, as you bit your lip. He kissed along your collar bone digging his finger tips into your flesh. He’d wanted this for a long time but was too stubborn to admit it. You pissed him off to no end, your perfect voice and body, your natural intelligence, your beauty riled him up something rotten. But my god now he had you, he was going to make you feel just how much he fucking hated you.

You were going to feel his wrath.

‘Off’ he ordered pulling at your top, sitting up you pulled it over your head causing your breasts to bounce. He watched in awe as your body was revealed to him. You soft supple skin, plump breasts, you were positively glowing. ‘So bossy’ you muttered under your breath. Hoping he hadn’t heard. But he did.

He gripped your waist band and pulled you full force to your knees, you let out a hiss of pain as he freed his cock from his shorts. Your breath hitched in your throat as you finally saw what he was hiding in there. It was slightly bigger than average, a thick vein wrapped its self around the thick shaft. The tip already painfully swollen, pre-cum glistening in the dull light of the room.

Without any warning he forced his cock to the back of your throat, you gripped his thighs trying desperately to breathe through your nose. He placed a hand just underneath your jaw as he fucked your throat, ‘knew I’d find a way to shut you up’ he smirked. Eyes screwed shut as he whimpered against the texture of your mouth. Warm and inviting. You looked up at him from your knees, tears threatening to fall as your throat constricted around him.

Salvia gathered around your lips as you let him brutally bury his cock within you. Slight gagging noises bubbled from within you as you reached up and slid your nails down his abdomen. Leaving pretty pink claw marks against his skin. He finally pulled out allowed you to take in a huge inhale, saliva clung to your chin, warm and thick, mixed with his arousal. You swiped it onto your thumb before licking it back into your mouth. He watched open mouthed and panting.

And just like that? You spat it back onto his cock, working his shaft with your hand. Twisting his hand into your hair he pulled you back to your feet ‘too good sweetheart, haven’t finished with you yet.’ Smirking you pulled him back into a wet kiss, he guided you back to the table as he pulled your shorts down. A rough finger swiped along your clothed slit, your panties saturated with your juices. ‘This wet already? Didn’t know you were such a dirty little bitch.’

Pushing him backwards you slid your own fingers into your pants, the sound of your arousal was music to his ears. ‘You gonna talk all day? Or you gonna eat my pussy Johnny?’ You cocked an eyebrow as you bit your lower lip. Within seconds his face was buried in your cunt, his piercing blue eyes strained as he worked his tongue along your clit. Muffled moans of pleasure vibrated against you as he tried to taste every part of you. Rolling your hips against his face only made him hungrier.

He pushed two fingers into you, stretching your hole as he payed extra attention to your clit. Nibbling, sucking, nipping at the bundle of nerves. Sweet sweet moans filled his ears as you desperately tried to cum, the burn from the stretch adding another layer pure pleasure. He felt you start to clench against his fingers, your moans became more breathless and frequent. Not one to cut this time short he pulled out, eliciting a groan of annoyance from you.

‘Not till I say so’ he chided as he pushed his fingers into your mouth. You hummed as you tasted yourself, ‘I fucking hate you’ you hissed as he removed them. He lined himself up and pushed himself all the way in as he lowered his face to yours. ‘If hatin’ me feels this good then I’m your fucking villain.’

You would have rolled your eyes, but his cock felt so good as the tip dragged along your walls. He gripped your jaw forcing it open as he spat a perfect ball of saliva into your mouth.

You swallowed it eagerly dragging your nails along his back, digging them in, desperate to draw blood. His pace was brutal, there was no regard in his movements. He drove his cock as deep as he could into you, wanting to force every single ounce of pleasure from you. Your back arched off the table as he sucked your neck, desperate to mark you. To claim you. There was only one person who could fuck you like this, and that was him.

‘Fuck, Johnny, don’t stop, please’ you begged. He grunted into the crux of your neck, his breath burning into your skin. Your moans had been replaced by desperate gasps for air. Your bodies rubbed together, slick with sweat, pure unfiltered hate and desire.

With that he pulled out and forcefully slammed you face down onto the table, kicking your legs apart. He pushed back into your cunt, the stretch again taking your by surprise. A wide hand made contact with your ass, a satisfying smack rung out in the meeting room. This time he clawed at your back, you gasped as the sudden pain radiated along your spine. Pushing your hips back into him he let out a low chuckle, ‘woulda fucked you months ago if it knew you were this desperate for it.’

‘Fuck, Johnny’ you moaned as he let a ribbon of spit fall onto your tight hole. He watched as your cunt eagerly took his cock before he pushed his thumb into your ass. The extra hole being filled made you feel deliciously full, reaching between your legs your ran your fingers in small circles. He grunted and sighed behind you, his voice gravelly and low as he chased his orgasm. Peering over your shoulder you flashed him a grin that would make the devil blush.

Snaking his free hand around your neck he pulled you back into him, your head arched onto his broad shoulder. He watched you intently, mouth open, eyes fluttering as you tried your hardest to maintain eye contact. His firm hand wrapped easily around your delicate neck, pressing firmly on your pressure points heightening the already dizzying pleasure. His thrusts became slower, more methodical as he neared his climax.

‘You gonna cum for me?’ He whispered above your lips, grip tightening on your throat. ‘Yesyesyesyesyes’ you said, voice quiet and strained. ‘Atta girl … cum on this cock.’ Your pussy clenched around his cock as you came, a powerful wave of pleasure punched you in the stomach. Your moans muffled. Caught against the pressure in your throat. He placed a strangely tender kiss on your lips as you panted into his mouth.

It was then his face twisted, brows furrowed together as a slight whimper burst from his chest. You felt his cock paint your pussy with his cum, pulsating within you. You stood there for a minute, both too euphoric to come down. You smiled against his lips as he dropped his hand to your waist, pulling you in tighter. ‘Mmm could keep my cock in there all day’ he sighed. Nipping his bottom lip ‘we’ll keep makin me hate you and I might just let you.’

———-

Taglist - @griffmors @luminousbeings-crudematter

My little soap gremlins - @brewed-pangolin @deadbranch @dustlandfairytail

#call of duty #soap smut #john soap mctavish x you #soap x you #soap mw2 #john mctavish #john mactavish x reader #john mctavish smut #soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #soap call of duty #cod mw22 #fan fic smut #modern warefare 2 #smut

[foreingersgod]

I love your work! Could you write kate Martin x fem!reader whose just a regular college student?

of course my love!

A/N: hi everyone! i’m still working on several requests right now so be patient with me! i promise they will all get done soon, but i’m a busy college student who only has so much time! they’ll be done soon, thank you so much for your patience and support, ily all !! if you have any questions about your request, feel free to message me :)

Living Life with You . KM

pairing: kate martin x reader

synopsis: kate is just so incredibly in love with you

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

midterms were swiftly approaching for the semester and everyone was scrambling to prepare, yourself included. you had about 4 exams that you needed to study for, ranging from chemistry to psychology to family finance. so you spent most of your days this week confined the comforts of your apartment, sat on the couch with you laptop on your lap and your notes spread across the coffee table.

it wasn’t abnormal for you to hide away when you needed to focus on your studies, but kate had planned to stay at your apartment all this week to spend time with you.

“i just don’t want these stupid midterms to ruin our week” you had told her one night over the phone. “i would feel bad if you just sat in my apartment and watched me study for hours, especially since having a full week to ourselves is so rare”

“i just want to be with you, baby, doesn’t matter if you’re studying or not” she reassured you.

sure enough, when kate arrived at your apartment, a bag packed and a quaint little bouquet of flowers for your kitchen counter, she had no problem with you studying. in fact, she had changed into her pajamas like you had done and sat herself on the couch directly next to you.

but the night was not just spent on the couch watching you study. she had offered to make you your favorite dinner (offer is a generous word, more like forced you to stay out of the kitchen so she could treat you) and set the table. she even washed your dishes that remained in the sink from earlier in the week so you wouldn’t have to stress about it for the night. kate had called you into the kitchen after about an hour, announcing that dinner was ready.

“please take a break and have dinner with me?” she pleaded, you could practically see those puppy dog eyes from the living room.

so you rolled yourself off the couch, stretching for the first time since 3 pm, clambering your way into the kitchen. what you were met with made your heart absolutely melt.

“hey, you hungry?” kate stood at the counter, dishing up your plates, dish rag thrown over her shoulder and sleeves rolled up to her elbows. god, your jaw must’ve been on the floor.

not only did kate look so irresistible making you dinner like this, but she had lit your ‘nice candle’ and set two spots next to each at your kitchen island for the two of you. she pulled a couple wine glasses out of your cupboard, setting them next to your plates as you walked over to her in the kitchen.

“babe, you did all this?” you stood behind her, resting your chin on her shoulder as she put the finishing touches on your plate. she grinned, feeling your arms wrap around her waist, turning around to face you.

“you’ve been working so hard to study for your tests,” she placed a sweet kiss to your forehead “and i wanted to do something special for you to help you wind down”

“ugh, i truly don’t deserve you” you pouted, kate grabbing your hand and guiding you to your seat. “i’ve just been sat on the couch hardly giving you the attention you deserve. you’ve been working just as hard with your team.”

“and you show me that everyday, you go to every single game, even if it’s an away game. you come with me to every banquet and event. you fix me up when i’m hurt and give me your undivided attention every single day. you’ve truly given me the world, YN” she sat next to you, pouring you both a glass of wine.

“i love you so so much, kate” you said, looking at the delicious scene in front of you. you’re favorite food, a nice glass of wine, all of it by candlelight, and your sweet girl at your side.

“i love you too,” she pulled you in for another kiss “and i love living life with you”

#kate martin x reader #kate martin #wcbb #wcbb x reader #iowa wbb

[zsturiolosx]

Overwhelmed

pairing: Chris x Reader

summary: You and your boyfriend, Chris, were fighting the whole day. The reason? You don’t know. He’s just been out of patience with you the whole day.

warning: angst, fighting, crying, fluff, cursing.

Chris has been ignoring you, giving you short answers, and it’s been on your nerves.

What the fuck is wrong with him? Is something you said? Or did? But you can’t remember anything that got him angry with you.

You’re on his room, laying on his bed, on your phone. Chris is in his gaming chair, also checking his phone.

But every time you start talking to him, he snorts and after a second gets up and leaves the room. He has done this three times already.

You just wanted to talk to him, hear his voice without having that tone. You just wanted Chris to look at you without narrowed eyes.

Your body misses his touch and affection, but every time you try to understand what’s wrong, he leaves you alone.

You see him getting up and leaving the room, slamming the door as he leaves you alone, again.

You feel your eyes burning, but you hold your tears and sit up, waiting for him. After a couple of minutes, the door opens again, and Chris enters the room, too focused on his room to realize you were staring at him.

He sits back up in his chair, taking the hair off his eyes.

“Chris” You call him, you hear him taking a deep breath, but not answering.

“Chris” You say again, the brunette boy rolls his eyes at your voice, but he looks up and his angry gaze meet yours.

“What?” His voice was harsh and low, felt like a knife in your skin.

“What happened, Chris?” Your voice, different from his, was soft and nervous, as if you were stepping on eggs to talk to him. “Why are you acting like this?”

He scoffs, moving his head side to side.

“What are you talking about?” His smile now fades away, and she stares down at you, you feel your whole body burning with fear and anger. “Do I need to be fucking smiling every second?”

Your body trembles from the anger and rudeness in his voice. Your eyes burn again, but you can’t cry, not now, not infront of him.

“No, but I need you to talk to me and tell me what’s wrong” Your voice is faltering, you struggle to speak because of his gaze.

“Oh my god…” Chris whispers to himself, looking down, before screaming at you. “Nothing, okay?! Mind your business, jeez”

You feel anger growing inside you, you feel disappointed and sad, missing him and wanting him to stop this little tantrum.

“No, i’m not gonna mind my own business when you’re acting like this, so annoyed and mad and won’t tell me why!” You say louder than before, your hands shaking as you hold your phone. “Let’s just talk.”

Your voice failed to come out right in the last word, now it’s obvious how nervous you are. And you get even more nervous when Chris leaves his phone in his desk and gets up, looking down at you.

“Stop talking! You’re just yapping, yapping, yapping in my ear!” He snaps at you, your eyes watering as you try to stop it. “I have a fucking headache! So just shut the fuck up!”

How dare he tell you to shut up, when he damn well know that you hate when people do that. Ever since you were a kid, everybody tells you to be quiet, and you told Chris how that made you feel, and he promised never to make you feel that way again.

And he just broke your promise.

You feel your eyes water more and more, until a tear falls down your cheek. And one more tear, and more, more, more.

You can’t stop crying while Chris stares you with brows furrowed and dark eyes. You get up and leave the room, slamming the door.

As you find your way to his bathroom, you close the door and lock. You rest you back in the door and slides to the door.

Your whole body was trembling as whimpers and sobs leave your mouth quietly. Your tears made your whole face wet, mouth trembling. Your hand were tight around your knees, while you hide your face between your legs.

It just hurts so much the way he started yelling at you for wanting to fix the problem. The way he cursed and screamed for you to shut up, like he said he would never do.

You try to keep yourself from crying, but the whole day you felt overwhelmed and worried about your relationship, you were the whole day pushing these feeling away, until you snapped and couldn’t take it anymore.

You hear knocks in the other side of the door, you raise your head, hearing Chris on the other side.

“Y/n, baby.” His voice was muffled because of the door that kept you apart. “I’m so, so sorry. I am a fucking idiot, a dickhead. Please open the door.”

Chris begs, while you while the tears that rolled down your red cheek. “Go away” You say, angry.

He sighed, knocking softly on the door once again.

“Baby, please, i need to talk to you.” When he doesn’t hear anything back, Chris continues talking. “You have every right to want to never, ever talk to me again. I acted so stupid and so shitty, but i need you in my life, so let me please solve this.”

After a couple of seconds of silence, you get up and unlock the door, opening and seeing Chris, standing there, hands slightly shaking, his blue eyes now red.

“I am so sorry, so sorry I can’t even describe it with words.” He starts talking, his low and raspy voice making your knees tremble. “This week has been the worst, the fans are going crazy, I’m feeling overwhelmed, my head hurts 24/7.”

You hold your hand, squeezing your fingers together. The knot in your throat slowly fading away, as you feel your tears stopping.

“I’m an idiot, because I took it out on you, and you don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you, you are an angel, the girl of my dreams.” Chris’s voice was stuttering, as he slowly reaches your hand. He grabs your hand and interlock your fingers together.

“Chris…” You start talking, your voice was careful, slow. But before you could continue your sentence, Chris interrupts you.

“And I know this doesn’t explain anything.” You can see the fear in his eyes. “But I was afraid, afraid of us, our relationship.”

You frown your brows, confused, without understanding what he means.

“I was afraid because I’m feeling things I have never felt before.” Chris steps closer to you, his fast breathing hitting you. “I love you, Y/n. So much that it makes me afraid.”

Your heart drops, as you feel your breath run out of your body. Your heart beat was so fast it looked like your heart was about to jump out of your chest.

It was the first time Chris said that to you, and you knew how afraid of relationships he was.

Chris looks down, his hair covering his red blue eyes, his hands trembling while still holding yours.

“Chris” You say, grabbing gently his chin and making you look at you. “I love you too.”

His face instantly lightens up, as he smiles and holds you face with both of his hands. Chris leans up closer to you, lips meeting yours.

His soft and pink lips touch yours so delicate, asking for passage for his tongue to meet yours, exploring every detail of your mouth. His hands were holding your face like he was afraid you were gonna escape.

You can feel his heartbeat as his chest touches yours, both of your breathing accelerated.

Chris interrupted the kiss, his forehead resting in your, as you feel his eyes on you mouth the whole time. His thumbs were gently cleaning the rest on tears that were in the corner of your eyes.

“I’m so happy to have you, and please, never shut up.”

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #fluff #cute #couples #angst #angst with a happy ending

[big-tiddy-bi]

Without ao3 I became inspired. Ok so being tired of the justice league not helping/believing brakes into the tower while a meeting is taking place to show one of the heroes what is happening I.E. you failed and don’t come here we don’t want you, we don’t need you. You come here and you will be treated as a super villain and dealt with as such.

—————

Danny was sick, tired and powerful. A dangerous combination for most peoples. Myths and legends written throughout every religion every people every and every world based on gods feeling those exact things, and that is the thing Danny closest too, not ghost, not human, but a god. Even if he does not himself as such.

Today was the justice league’s last chance, Walker had decided to change up his tactics. Instead of going after Danny directly he was going to play dirty. Imprisoning 300 living for ”harboring a fugitive”. The justice league was called, one last chance before thing got out of hand. 300 people held captive in another dimension should be a priority for a group called the justice league.

Their response “the justice league contact system should only be used for emergencies, pranks will not be tolerated”. a simple response. directed and to the point. A metaphorical death sentence for the justice league and the people of amity’s faith in them.

No one died, thank the ancients, but blood was spilled. Red and green fell to the floor like water from the large cuts on Danny’s arms and the side of his torso, he was mostly fine, a couple stitches, about a gallon of filtered ectoplasm and a trip to the nasty burger had fixed him up. Meaning that every time he tried to move his arms he felt like he was being stabbed and he could not breathe without pain, which in all fairness was kind of normal for him, it sucked but it was normal.

The real problem was the 300 people I’m the hospital, ecto contamination, not to the extent of being fatal but extremely painful. That could have been avoided if Danny had more help than just his team of 4 other teenage vigilantes and his adult sister.

So after that fiasco Danny did something, else, something more political, he mad deals. With permission from the most important people in town the ones who keeps everything running, IE Mr lancer and Jazz. He also got permission from the mayor, bribed with Danny going to a Green Bay packers game with him.

Johnny 13 and kitty could joy ride before 12 am and after 9am as long as property damage stays at a minimum, a couple smashed mailboxes, broken windows and spray painted cars/buildings paid for by the mayors office was better than bad luck to the entire town and people disappearing.

Skulked got to hunt Danny in a building made for that purpose, Spector-cameras installed in it so people could stream it live to “witness the greatest hunter of the ghost zone”.

Ember got to play her music and travel on tour as she pleased as long as she didn’t mind control people.

Some wouldn’t take the deals but most of the heavy hitters did, it calmed down a lot, but as they say it the calm before the storm.

With the viewers of the “ghost battles” (it was basically a game of extreme tag) and embers fans talking, the ghost situation became a known thing

And again the justice league responded. “we will be there in a month”

No apologies for not believing them no apologies for not helping, just a we are on our way 8 months after the incident and they were going to be there 9 months after. All the people where health again, Walker was punished, locked in his haunt for the next 100 years. The justice league has nothing to do. They have no point in coming to amity. Where they just going to show up, say “sorry for not helping you, welp peace” and then just leave.

Maybe that was the point, that though crossed Danny’s mind as he read the message out loud to his team. They didn’t have any to do, a vanity project, help the small community that they abandoned so that the people don’t go blabbing to the papers, a pr move.

Sam and Valerie had voiced the same opinions on what the justice league was doing. The rest of the team agreed after a short conversation.

This led to Tucker hacking the league computer system to find the next meeting date and we’re it would be held. “Unhackabal my ass” and a plan was made.

So here he is, invisible, intangible and floating above the justice league. Batman walked up to the podium and began to present.

“8 and a half months ago the league got a report of 300 people being kidnapped and sent to the ghost dimension, this was believed to be a prank and filled as such, we were wrong” he said while clicking through slides, some of medical reports of the victims, some of the photos taken of him helping people out of the portal next to the hospital he mad to help the victims faster. Then he said “ this is the city’s resident hero team” the next slide showing the picture of Danny, Sam , Wes, Valerie, tucker and jazz receiving the key to the city. 

“We one know of this misstep because of videos posted online of phantom pictured here” he pointed an Danny receiving the key, another picture of him helping a man to the hospital appeared “and here”

“Do we know who trained them they don’t look older than sixteen” Wonder Woman asked. Before batman could answer Danny revealed himself, though he made his skin slightly translucent to show his bones, it was all part of the plan.

He floated down to the floor and looked directly at her “we trained ourselves”

He turned to face the whole room. “ I am not here to fight you” he said as a couple of hero quickly moved from their seats. “ I came to warn you”

He took in a breath “ I came to warn you, stay out of amity and stay in your lane.” He put a small amount of his ghostly wale into his voice, just enough to shake up their hearts. “ we don’t need you. We don’t WANT you” he cold the room slowly a couple degrees a word. “ do not ask around for us ghosts, do not look for us, if you find one of us. RUN.” He dropped his voice louder as emphasis. “ if you find one of us causing trouble, send us a message, but otherwise don’t acknowledge us or amity, the dead have nothing to give to you” his eyes became fussy staring at nothing green tears fell out of his eyes,and his Lichtenberg scars began to glow Ice blue, but his voice did not waver,.“ you may not have killed us yourself but you signed our death warrant long ago, you have ignored us far to long” is voice soften at the last word.

Then his eyes turns red, as fast as he could he pulled Superman out of his chair and pushed him to the wall. Danny’s hand went intangible as he pushed in into Superman’s chest. His hand wrapped around Superman’s heart, Danny soften the intangibility so Superman could fell the hand but not get hurt. “I can rip your heart out without a single fight” his skin became entirely invisible to show his skeleton. “To all of amity” Superman’s breathing quickened “to me” he move close to Superman’s ear “you are villains, and will be treated as such” he dropped Superman to the floor.

“Stay in your domain and I’ll stay in mine” ice began to form at his feet, looking mor like crystals than ice. “Come to us with please of forgiveness is as pointless as asking of it from your god” ectoplasm dripped from his mouth onto the floor. “Do not come to amity” and with that he went invisible again and watched the room in amusement. He was kinda freaking out at how awesome he sounded.

A couple minutes of silence followed. As John Constantine entered the room, “what did I miss?”

———————-

Hope y’all like it <3 Sorry for spelling mistakes. I don’t think this need trigger warnings but if you think so please comment so I can add them. I started writing this and I couldn’t stop. If only I had that energy for the original story’s I want to write lol Have a nice day/night and drink some liquids that aren’t caffeinated and/or poisonous <3

#danny fenton #danny phantom #sorry for spelling mistakes #fanfic #fanfic ideas #dc x dp #dp x dc #justice league #Eldridge Danny phantom

[cryptidcorners]

HEY! could we get a cute oneshot abt mike and reader being his gf and being taller than him 😭😭 i think it’d be so silly and cute and funny

Mike Schmidt x F!Reader - Short Problems

Description: Just a sweet one-shot with Mike's girlfriend being taller than him . Requested by anon .

Media: FNaF!Movie

Character: Mike Schmidt

Tags: Girlfriend!Reader + Reader is written to be above 5'5, Fluff, Height Differences, Established Relationship, Slice of Life, One-Shot, Flustered/Shy!Mike bits, Sweet Talk, Cute Stuff.

No Warnings.

Check out my INTRO before reading, thank you.

Mike's hand was extending so far, he swore he could touch the stars if he could. Yet, his fingertips were scraping against the rim of his fridge, exclaiming quietly in frustration. He swore a couple times after he rocked up and down on his toes, struggling more each and every time. He had tossed an old box of cereal far against the roof of his freezer a couple of days ago due to the pure exhaustion of his draining work life. His eyes were too droopy to clean so he had abandoned his traditional skills and fell into a circle of just throwing things out of sight.

"Shit." Mike sucked his teeth, "Come on." he grunted. He was getting nowhere, and it was itching him the more he stirred. Even if he gave up, he'd still think about it. Mike couldn't believe he was trying so hard to get a partially empty box that was probably webbed with dust.

"Hey, Mike. Have you seen the-" you were walking into the living room, eyes fixed on your hands as they stuffed a few bent documents into your already crammed purse. You looked up, stopping in your tracks as you saw your boyfriend lightly hopping to reach something. "-what are you doing?" You felt bad for laughing, but it was almost cartoonish. Mike's head swung around in embarrassment, "I'm trying to get some cereal, but it's fine. I'll get it, it's just . . . really," he grunted. "back there."

Your gaze flew up, "Michael, it's not that far up." you giggled. It wasn't even that far from the edge. Mike released a tempered exhale and strolled away from the fridge door. "Well, why don't you try." He challenged. Though, you could tell he knew you were right judging by his face shying away.

You flashed a smug smurk before reaching your hand up slowly, drinking up Mike's face before snatching the box and shaking it with a light snicker. "Here you go, baby."

He was trying to look unimpressed, "It's your heels,"

You peppered his face with kisses as his face softened and loosened from mock denial, as Michael mumbled some protests, he started giggling once you reached his neck. You always knew he grew soft when you went there, "Okay, okay!" Michael exhaled. "Thank you. Come on--pfft! Thank you!"

You reeled your face back and pressed the box against his chest with a loving expression, "If you ever need me to reach things for you, just ask, okay? You know I love helping you."

"Well, you know I love not bothering you." Mike titled his head. So, you threatened him with another peck to his cheek, making him recoil playfully. "Kidding, kidding."

“I’m just joking,” your eyes veered to the clock. “I really gotta go, I’ll pick Abby up after work, kay?”

“You really don’t need to,” Mike sighed. “I can.” You pushed away his reply gently, “Just focus on work. It’ll be fine.”

Mike nodded and let you slip out of his tight grip and out the door. Just before you left, he grabbed your shoulder. “Look, by the way, it really was the heels.” Mike told you after kissing you again. He really was hooked on you. You smirked, “If you ever need to feel tall, you can borrow.” and you ruffled his hair before getting ready to work with the biggest smile on your face.

#💤 mike schmidt #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf movie #fnaf #writers on tumblr #writing #mike schmidt fluff #💌 request!