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dante-mightdie · 2 days

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shut up. imagine bimbo reader finding some dumb brute, thinking that’s all the love she deserves:( and soap finding her at the same bar, draped around that dude’s arm.

bimbo reader deserves a happy ending idc :(((

c/w: mistreatment towards reader, slightly misogyny, groping, happy ending for reader and johnny <3

he’s devastated when he sees you, sees what’s become of the beautiful girl he once had. that bright, charming smile looks like it’s being forced onto your face every time the dickhead your with makes some degrading joke about you in front of his friends, roughly nudging you when you don’t laugh

his arm is snug around your shoulders, one hand groping your chest. you try and squirm from his grip, clearly embarrassed from this treatment but he just tugs you further into his side, whispering something in your ear which makes you stop moving instantly

when you stand from the table, he raises his hand and slap you on your ass. the smack echoing through the bar and making you stumble in your heels. he shoves some cash into your hand and nudges you towards the bar

the fake smile on your face drops once you’re away from your new man, nervously shifting on your feet at the bar as the bartender clearly ignores you for some girl he’s trying to chat up instead of serving. johnny downs the rest of his drink before excusing himself from his table. he stands a few feet from you next to the bar, where you don’t see him

“oi, the lass is waiting!” johnny calls out to the bartender, who immediately rolls their eyes and walks over to begrudgingly take your order. you turn to johnny, prepared to thank the random stranger who helped you. but your small smile drops when you see him

“oh… it’s you. thank you.” you mumble, looking down at your feet. johnny frowns, shifting nervously on his feet

“no problem, hen. how’re ye? ye look good…” he says and his throat suddenly feels dry. you look like you don’t want to talk to him and it eats him up inside. your eyes flick back up towards him, looking up at him through your long lashes

“thanks. so do you…” there’s an awkward silence between the two of you and your grateful when the bartender finally places a beer in front of you

“ye drink beer now? ye always used to cringe when I offered you a sip of mine…” johnny chuckles, recalling how you used to refer to it as bread soda or something silly like that

“it’s not for me, it’s for my boyfriend. I left my purse at home and he doesn’t wanna pay for one of my ‘silly cocktails’.” you say with a small frown, shifting on your feet

“I’ll get ye a drink, doll. whaddya-“ johnny starts, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet but you grab his wrist to stop him

“you don’t have to do that. I have to get back to- oh.” you begin protest until you look over to your table to see some girl sat in your boyfriend’s lap, his hand planted firmly on her ass. johnny sees your lip wobble and his heart absolutely shatters in his chest

he knows he has no room to talk, he broke your heart and he’ll regret it for the rest of his life. he knows he was pathetic and he should’ve stood up for you. when he let you go, you took all the light in his life with you. he missed you terribly all day and dreamt about you every night

he hears a small sob escape your mouth before you turn on your feet, rushing to get out of the bar and away from him before you fully break down. johnny curses under his breath before running out after you

he finds you around the corner of the bar, hugging yourself as protection from the bitter midnight chill. he takes off his bomber jacket and drapes it over your shoulders when he comes up behind you. you jump and let out a little squeak, wiping your eyes when you turn around and notice it’s him

“I’m okay.” you sniffle, “he does this sometimes but he always says sorry and he’s really nice to me for the next few days!”

johnny doesn’t even know what to say to you for a second, settling for a quiet ‘oh, darlin…’

he pulls you into his arms, letting you cry against his chest whilst he pets over your hair. he presses a kiss to the top of your head, his strong arms slowly swaying you from side to side. “I’m such a fuckin’ dick, bonnie. shoulda never let ye go.”

you sniffle, “thought I wasn’t smart enough.” johnny shakes his head, hugging you tighter to his body. his big hand soothing up and down your back

“I’m clearly not the smart one if I make stupid decision like throwing you away, love. what kinda idiot am I to have given up the most amazing girl, eh? take me back, please, bonnie?” he pleads, pulling back slightly to be able to cup your cheeks and wipe your tears away with his thumbs,

“under one condition…” you sniffle, your lip jutting out in a pout. johnny nods his head eagerly, clearly ready to fulfill whatever major quest you’re going to give him

“anything, bonnie. anything for ye…” he says, his thumbs gently running over your cheekbones

“you go back inside and get my purse. I left it on the table and it’s my favourite one. and it’s got my juicy couture lipgloss in it.” you say, making johnny let out a a quiet chuckle, his eyes lightening up when he realises he’s got you back. he leans forward and places a few sweet pecks to your lips

“course.” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his car keys. “go wait in the car and i’ll get it.”

you nod and trot off, heels clicking against the concrete of the pavement on the way to his car. he watches you until your safe and in the car before heading back inside. he saunters over to your table and grabs your purse, tapping your now-ex boyfriend on the shoulder

“oi.” is all he says, waiting until he turns to face him before landing a heavy punch to the guys face, knocking him backwards. he doesn’t say anything else, tucking your purse under his arm and stomping out the bar and over to his car. a smirk on his face when he sees you clap in excitement when you see him holding your purse <3

#johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #captain mactavish #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap #soap x reader #mw2 #cod mw2 #bimbo!reader #genius!soap

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littlexdeaths · 3 days

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what are friends for? - e.m.

best friend eddie munson x fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: period talk/period blood, eddie is the sweetest as always, grinding, fingering, one singular use of daddy

a/n: thank you to @callsignraver for the title idea 🤭 the eddie edit was made by me! you can use it, just please credit my side blog (strangergraphics), if you do. now enjoy xx.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me,” he sounds so sincere, which is why you can’t even look at him.

Because looking at him would just open a set of floodgates that you aren’t prepared to deal with right now.

Looking at him is only going to fuel the fire that is raging in your lower abdomen— that was lit the moment you stepped foot in the trailer.

A fire that he’s been steadily stoking with each brush of his fingertips against yours as you reach for more popcorn. Or when his knee bumps casually into yours as he shifts on the small sofa.

Which for someone as fidgety as Eddie Munson— was a lot.

“I promise I’m not gonna laugh or anything, just tell me what’s wrong.”

Your best friend had been able to pick up on the shift in your mood almost immediately. But he chose not to comment on it until now, unable to handle it any longer.

But how in the hell were you supposed to tell him that it’s his fault? That he’s driving you crazy?

That you want nothing more than to have his fingers buried inside you?

“You wouldn’t get it,” you sigh, shifting your body further away from him on the sofa.

Clinging onto the arm for dear life as you pretend to watch the clash of light sabers on the tv screen.

His snort has your eyes rolling.

“Try me.”

Your hands move up to rub your temples, eyes slipping shut.

“It’s a dumb girl thing—”

He jumps up off the sofa before you can even finish your sentence, returning from the bathroom mere moments later with a bottle of Advil in tow.

Eddie doesn’t register your confused expression as he stands before you, holding out the bottle.

“Cramps, right?” he asks, a kind smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You feel embarrassed, because of course that’s what he would think. He’s heard you drone on and on about it over the years. He only wants to help, like the kind friend that is he is.

Friend, being the keyword here.

“I um…” you mumble, taking the bottle from his outstretched hand.

You attempt to ignore the heat that continues to pool in between your thighs as you stare at the veins protruding from his hand. The way his thick fingers were previously gripping onto the pill bottle.

How they would feel gripping your inner thighs….

No. Stop it.

You mentally scold yourself, chewing on your lower lip as he takes a seat on the sofa.

“I appreciate it, but that’s not the issue.”

Now he’s the one who looks confused, leaning forward as he scratches at the stubble on his jaw.

“Then what is it?” he prods.

Eddie knocks his knee into yours again, tingles shooting up your spine from the subtle touch.

“It’s just, I’m feeling…”

“Tired?”

“No.”

“Bloated?”

“No!”

“Hangry—”

“Horny!” you shout, startling you both, “I’m horny.”

Your voice has gone soft, a near whisper compared to your previous volume. The air around you is suddenly thicker, and you are once again unable to meet his gaze.

“Oh,” he says after a long pause.

“Yeah, oh.”

You feel the tips of your ears warming as you continue to stare down at your lap. The beginning chords of the imperial march are the only thing filling the uncomfortable silence between you.

“I mean, I could always help you,” he replies finally.

His words cause your eyes to shoot up in surprise, your head turning to meet his molten hues.

“That’s— I wouldn’t ask you to do that, Ed.”

His ringed hand suddenly reaches over to rest on your knee, fingers slipping beneath the rips in your jeans.

“What if I want to?”

Now you’re the one rendered speechless.

“What if I have wanted to… for a long time,” he continues, his other hand reaching up to cup your cheek.

His thumb brushes over your lower lip, determination in his eyes as he leans further into your space. You can’t help how your body gravitates towards him, your hands clutching onto the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

You can feel the way his breath mingles with yours, nicotine and movie theater butter. But it’s the flecks of honey in his eyes that break down your remaining defenses.

You answer him with a kiss, lightly pressing them to his. Testing the waters. Eddie eagerly deepens it, pulling you in closer until you’re in his lap. Your thighs bracket his hips, his hands encircling your waist.

The kiss becomes heated, faster than either of you are prepared for. You lower your hips harder onto his lap, inhaling his soft gasp as your bodies meld together. His grip tightens on your hips as you eagerly grind yourself against his crotch, welcoming the friction.

“Hold on, baby.” He groans again, his large hands stopping any further movement.

Baby.

He’s never called you that before.

Your lower lip juts out in a pout as he maneuvers you off of his lap, and back onto the soft cushions of the sofa. The male quickly sinks to his knees, his hands splaying across the tops of your thighs as he works himself between them. He chuckles at your expression, shaking his head slightly.

“Patience, pretty girl,” he hums as his hands slide further up your thighs until they reach the button on your jeans. “Let’s get these off, yeah?”

Your nerves suddenly kick back into gear, despite the flames continuing to lick your skin. Eddie has become so tuned into your emotions over the years that he can sense this new shift immediately. This was an emotion he has seen plenty of times, but it was never because of him.

The notion has his hands freezing as they hover over the closure of your jeans.

“Shit, did I do something wrong?”

You quickly shake your head, letting out a nervous laugh. “I just… don’t wanna make a mess.”

His expression softens as you gesture to the tan sofa beneath you. The male rises to his feet without another word, darting over to the laundry basket that is seated on top of their washing machine. He digs through a pile of clothes until he finds whatever he’s searching for.

A dark maroon towel.

He clutches the soft fabric in his hands as he makes his way back to you, resuming his previous position between your legs. He sets it next to you, his brown eyes nervously shifting between your thighs and your face.

“You can touch me, Eds,” you say, carefully taking his hands in yours to guide them up to the clasp on your jeans.

Eddie doesn’t need to hear anything else.

He makes quick work of removing your jeans, tugging the denim down your thighs. His eagerness has you giggling, the tops of his cheeks flushing a light pink even in the muted light.

He pauses for a moment, leaning back as he drinks in your newly exposed skin. His eyes darken even further as his calloused fingers grip the hem of your cotton panties.

“God, take them off— please,” you whine, no longer caring if you sound pathetic.

You’ve waited far too many years for this to happen, and your patience has finally run out. Eddie chuckles, sliding your panties (pad and all) down your thighs. The male carelessly tosses them over his shoulder, ignoring your small protest.

“Lift up,” he hums, motioning you to guide your hips up.

He easily slides the towel beneath you, letting your body relax against the plush material. Eddie gently rests his hands over the tops of your thighs once more, beginning to spread them even wider. Your cheeks warm as his eyes zero in on your core, whining softly as he licks his lips.

“Christ,” he breathes, inhaling deeply as he notes the way your arousal shines in the glowing light of the tv.

He leans back for a moment, dark eyes flicking up to meet your gaze as he slowly slides each of those gaudy rings off his fingers. Eddie takes his time in doing so, the clink of metal echoes in your ears as he gathers them in his palm.

“Gimme your hand,” he says softly, but the command in his voice lingers all the same.

You hold out your left hand towards him, ignoring the way it trembles as he begins to slide each of his large rings onto your fingers. His dimples indent his cheeks as he grins, carefully lifting your knuckles to his lips. He presses a soft kiss to each one, ensuring that he keeps his eyes trained on you as he does so.

“Keep those safe for me, sweetheart.”

He winks playfully, leaning forward to brush his lips over the bare skin of your shin. His hands hook under your knees, allowing you to drape your legs over his shoulders. His movements have slowed drastically, taking his time before his fingers finally dip between your thighs.

Your soft gasp spurs him on, his fingers running through your drenched folds. He gathers your arousal on his fingertips, dragging them up to encircle over your swollen bud. You let your body relax against the couch cushions, allowing your eyes to slip shut as he continues his gentle touches.

But as soon as his touch starts— it stops just as fast.

A whine spills past your lips as his large hands wrap around the meat of your thighs and squeeze.

“Eyes on me, baby,” he coos, pressing his lips to the curve of your knee.

His teeth lightly nip at the skin there, causing your eyes to flutter back open.

“Yes, sir,” you giggle as he groans.

His fingers are back on you before you have time to mention his reaction, circling your entrance before dipping inside slowly. It causes your breath to hitch, his middle finger able to stretch you out better than any of yours ever have.

Eddie curses under his breath as he adds another, your body almost greedily sucks him in. Your hand instinctively reaches forward to grip onto his bicep. The rings that adorn your hand are biting into his skin, the thought alone makes his jeans impossibly tighter.

“God, you’re so wet,” he moans, guiding his fingers even deeper inside you.

You reply with a soft whine, your thoughts entirely too jumbled to provide him with anything else. His eyes have momentarily dropped from your face to where his fingers are nestled inside you. He slides them back out, admiring the sticky pink mixture that’s coating his thick digits.

“Eddie, don’t tease,” you huff, guiding your hips back towards his awaiting hand.

Your impatient attitude has him chuckling, those dark hues flicking up to meet yours again.

“Oh, you want these back, baby?” He taunts, his other hand gripping onto your thigh as he eases three of the digits inside your entrance.

The brunette holds them there, enjoying the way your body begins to squirm beneath him. Taunting you.

“Go on, say it, sweetheart.”

He raises a brow at you, slightly pushing his fingers in deeper, before he quickly retracts them with your continued silence. Repeating the action.

“I want…” you start, but the curl of his fingers makes you lose your train of thought.

“Hmm, you want what?” he prods.

He completely removes them from your entrance, ignoring your pleading eyes as he slides them back up to dance around your clit.

Your soft mewl of his name does nothing to deter his actions, it only slows them.

“Come on, use that pretty little head of yours,” he hums as the tips of his fingers graze over your swollen bud.

“God, just— please!” your voice raises an octave, taking on a breathy quality.

The corner of his mouth pulls up in a smirk as he tilts his head at you. His fingers dip lower, circling over your puckered hole.

“Ya know, while I usually prefer something along the lines of master… or even daddy,” he muses, noting how your breath hitches.

“God, sure has a nice ring to it.”

His head falls back as he laughs, a playful pout adorning his lips as you swat at him. Those simmering embers have quickly morphed into a raging fire, ready to engulf you both in the flames.

“Eddie, I swear to God. If you don’t put those fingers back inside me, I will—“

The rest of your threat gets caught in your throat as he thrusts his fingers back in, a strangled moan takes their place.

“See, was that so hard, princess?” he teases.

You don’t answer him, instead grinding your hips down to meet his palm. Eddie pumps his fingers faster, his thumb pressing onto your clit. The wet squelch that follows has him moaning, nuzzling his face against your knee.

Your hand releases his bicep, slipping down his arm to tangle your fingers together. He holds them tightly, beginning to curl the others inside you. The calloused tips brush against your sweet spot, pulling another whine from your throat.

“Oh, right there,” you pant, chest heaving as his thumb firmly massages your clit.

That fire continues to burn brighter with each thrust of his fingers, ready to swallow you whole.

“That’s it,” he grins, watching in awe as you make a mess of his fingers, streaks of red and pink dripping down his knuckles.

“Makin’ such a mess f’me, baby.”

You barely register his words as your back arches up off the sofa. Your eyes squeeze shut as white hot pleasure bursts behind your eyelids. His rings dig into your skin from how tightly you’re grasping him, legs trembling as he coaxes you through your high.

Your ears are ringing as you finally collapse into the lumpy cushions, whining as he continues to gently thrust his fingers inside you.

“Come ‘ere,” you mumble, eyes fluttering open to meet his.

His cheek is smushed against your inner thigh, only breaking your heavy lidded stare to slide his fingers out of you. He hums, carefully lifting his fingers towards the dim light from the tv. He rubs them together, gazing in utter fascination at the sticky strings they leave behind.

You already miss his warmth, tugging playfully on his unruly curls to grab his attention. He chuckles, wiping his fingers on the towel beneath you before he’s hovering over your body. Hips pressed into yours, not caring if you make a mess on the front of his pants.

“Thank you,” you whisper, twirling one of his curls around your ringed finger.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart.” He grins down at you, his dark eyes almost sparkling.

“Besides…” he pauses, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “What are friends for?”

tagging: @xxbimbobunnyxx @undead-supernova @munsonhoneybaby @hippiegoth97 @cinemabean @strangerstilinski @corrodedcorpses @curlyjoequinn @mugloversonly @eddiesxangel @hellfirenacht @splendiferous-bitch @razzeith @aleisashortcake @ali-r3n @eddie-is-a-god (i tried tagging you i promise 😭)

#the freak writes 🫧#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie x you #eddie x reader #best friend!eddie munson x fem!reader #best friend!eddie munson

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mysicklove · 3 days

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CW: sub! nanami, bondage, body worship, praise, oral sex (m! receiving), reader is sick in love n kento is adorable, more just power dyanmics then actually sex bc idk

A/N: I wrote this drabble while taking a biology quiz. girl boss. unedited like all my drabbles bc fuck it we ball

"I'm not so sure about this..."

You look up from your task, cocking your head to the side at your lover's slightly frowned face. He was lying plaint against your headboard while you were carefully tying his hands to the posts. But you immediately stop your actions and kiss his cheek. "Dont be scared, Kento. I'm not going to do anything you dont like."

Nanami slightly furrows his brows. "I like to be able to touch my lover."

You pepper another kiss to his cheek, giggling. "Well, not tonight! We are going to focus all on you and your pleasure. Relax, I promise you'll love it."

He looks away, almost pouting. Its cute, seeing the stoic man look upset at the idea of being unable to touch you. But you pay no mind to it and instead continue to tie his wrists up.

When you're happy with the result, you glance down at the blond and see him staring at you, blinking, and waiting. He was wearing just his boxers, chest completely bare, and his cock half hard. You run your fingers up his chest, swirling the nipples that makes him slightly jump. You've trained him to be sensitive there; it was cute.

"Should I also tie your legs to each post?" you muse out loud, looking behind you. "Keep you from trying to close your legs…"

To this, he blushes. It's subtle, but it turns his cheeks a deep pink, and his eyes seem to glance everywhere but you. The idea of him being forced to be so exposed was incredibly embarrassing to the man. So he gulps and says, "Please don't tease me anymore. It's not fair."

You let out a giggle, pressing another kiss to his jaw, and he swallows, furrowing his eyebrow. "You are so cute, Kento; I could just eat you up."

He is used to be talking to this like he was some sort of pet, and so he doesn't bat an eye. "I don't understand what you find appealing about all of this."

You stare at your lips, eyes glazed with lust, before smiling softly at him. Distracted by the hunger on your face, Nanami fails to notice the hand that trailed down to where his boxers lay. You trace the outline of his cock, and he hisses out in surprise, mouth slightly open.

"It's fun to see you like this," you muse out loud, brushing back his blond hair with your other hand. "And besides," you grip at his cock, hard and throbbing behind the black fabric, "you find it just as appealing as I do, hmm?"

To this, he stays silent, but the tips of his ears burn red. He does like it more than he should. He likes the purr of your voice, the hunger in your eyes, the way you made him feel like he was your pet. It made him feel desired, and with that, arousal pooled deep inside him.

You slide off of his boxers, and his cock immediately flops against his abdomen, letting out a lewd plap sound. It was red and pulsing, pre beginning to bead at the tip. Nanami shifts in his restraints, unable to stay still under your watchful gaze.

You were fully clothed, and he was completely bare in front of you. No matter how long the two of you have been lovers, he will never grow out of this embarrassment of being nude in front of you.

But you don't seem to mind; in fact, you encourage it. Your tongue drags along his V line up to the top of his abs, staring at him the entire time. His whole body racks with shivers, and his cock twitches pathetically with the lack of attention.

"You are so pretty," you sigh like you haven't said it to him at least a million times already. "It's almost unfair how good you look, Kento."

You press a kiss to the tip of his cock, as if it was simply just another body part to praise. He jumps, hips trying to buck into your mouth instinctually. He immediately wishes he that he could hid his face in shame when you laugh at his reaction.

"Please don't say such ridiculous things," he manages to recover, "You praise me too highly."

You rest your face on his thigh, nearly inches from his groin, and use your hand to play with his cock lazily like a cat toying with its prey. Tracing along it and watching it bobble back and forth, ignoring the way the blonde's body jerks with the small stimulation.

You peer up at him, looking at the red hue of his face and smiling at him. "No, I don't think so. You know I don't spew meaningless things, especially to someone like you."

Your eyes go back to his cock, watching another glob of pre dribble down the base. You barely were touching the thing, but the gentle movements seemed to be driving him insane. How cute.

"I guess I'll have to show you how much I seem to worship you," you sigh, and without much hesitation, your lips wrap around the shaft. The ropes pull at the headboard, and Kento lets out a string of curses, pulling a laugh from deep in your throat and a moan from him.

#mello.writes #sub nanami #nanami smut #sub jjk #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #nanami x reader smut #sub! nanami kento #sub nanami kento #nanami kento smut #jjk smut

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uswntdreamer · 3 days

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babygirl.

summary: you meet some new faces while in the children's unit. one of those faces being vicky, who has a close bond with alexia.

series: in sickness, in health.

warnings: mentions of child abuse.

"so what kind of jobs do you think were on the market in bikini bottom?"

"are you serious, aitana?"

"no, just curious."

keira walsh, front desk assistant in the children's unit, stared at her coworker in disbelief. the short nurse stared back at keira, waiting for the woman's answer.

keira looked back at her computer. "i don't know. they probably worked nine to five jobs. don't you have a child to attend to?"

nurse bonmatí shook her head. "nope. it's lunchtime, which means i'm free for the next hour."

"and you've decided to bother me?"

"yep!" nurse bonmatí beamed as she sat down next to keira. keira bit her lip to hide an amused smile.

"ladies." dr. frido interrupted as the three of you entered the other two's presence. "have either of you seen asisat? she's needed in the surgery unit."

keira and nurse bonmatí shook their head. "nope, but it's lunchtime which means she'll be here in a second." aitana explained.

keira raised her eyebrow. "is this about caroline and alexia?"

your body tensed up immediately. "how did this woman know?" you thought to yourself.

keira seemed to notice your change in body language. "news spread fast here, my friend."

nurse bonmatí looked between the two of you in confusion. "what happened between dr. hansen and dr. putellas?"

keira only stared at you. you looked away with a deep blush painted across your face. mariona coughed awkwardly. dr. frido explained the drama to the nurse since no one else was going to.

"oh.." nurse bonmatí looked at you. you felt so vulnerable under their gazes. it was already awkward since you didn't know either of the women in front of you, but to have them in your business made it worse.

"i'm sure osho has already made her way down." keira spoke after a moment of awkward silence. "there's no need to feel bad. those two have never gotten along with each other. if you want, you could help us out in the children's unit?"

"thank you..." you sqeaked out quietly.

frido, sensing the tension in the air, excused herself and left. mariona followed suit.

it was just you, keira, and nurse bonmatí at the front desk. nurse bonmatí called you over to have a seat at the front desk, you accepted her invitation and sat down between the two of them. you spent the next twenty minutes getting to know the two women, aitana was more vocal about her life while keira was a bit reserved about the information she shared.

"it's the language barrier." aitana excused her. "she's really talkative outside of work. especially about.."

"quiet, aitana!" keira warned.

"so i can't mention.."

"no! no, you can't."

aitana chuckled teasingly. keira shook her head in annoyance and continued eating at her salad. you and aitana continued to conversate while keira listened. your conversation was interrupted when a young girl, wearing purple scrubs, entered your vision.

"is there something you need, esmee?" keira asked the brown skinned girl with pigtails, who stood awkwardly across the desk.

"uh yeah..." she shifted uncomfortably. "can i get an extra pillow, please?"

aitana immediately jumped up from her chair and ran to get a pillow for the girl. it caught you off guard at how fast she got up. keira held back her laugh.

"i think we'd get more things done around here if you were in charge, esmee." keira joked. "aitana isn't the only one whipped for you, frido and ingrid would do anything for you too."

esmee smiled shyly. aitana returned with six pillows tucked between her short, but muscular arms. keira couldn't contain her laugh this time as aitana wobbled over to esmee.

"i... i didn't need all those pillows... just one."

"nonsense!" aitana rebutted. "you need all these pillows, i'm sure your current ones are all flat. let me change them!"

"aitana, stop." keira laughed. "just give her the one pillow she asked for."

aitana frowned. "but her other pillows.."

"she only asked for one."

"but.."

"esmee." keira sent esmee an encouraging look.

esmee swallowed her protest and reached out for only one pillow, "thank you, nurse aitana. i only need one." and began to walk back to her assigned room.

"okay, honey! let me know if you need anymore!" aitana shouted out. keira facepalmed herself as you sat confused in the chair.

"aitana is esmee's assigned nurse." keira explains. "nurse engen was esmee's nurse and frido is her doctor. they all have a special bond with the young girl."

"what's she being treated for?" you asked out of curiosity.

"cancer."

"oh..." you were caught off guard by how causally keira answered, like it was no big deal.

"yeah, frido works with her. ingrid used to work as her nurse before she got transfered to work in the pregnancy unit, so aitana works with her. though, ingrid still comes by to visit."

you nodded along to keira's explaination. you thought it was kind of adorable that the doctors and nurses formed bonds with the girls. you wondered if you'll form a bond with a girl here.

"alexia comes by often to check on vicky." keira adds.

that immediately catches your attention.

"who's vicky?" you asked.

keira looked at you, this whole time she had been staring at her screen. "vicky's an eleven year old in room 30. she's one of alexia's child patients, which is rare since alexia doesn't like working with children."

"why doesn't she work with children?"

keira shrugged. "not sure. i don't talk to alexia, but you could talk to vicky since lunch is over. i'm sure she's in her room now."

you froze. "i don't know... you think that's a good idea?"

"you're clearly into alexia, maybe not romantically or anything like that, but i can tell you want to be a part of her world. vicky can help with that. be nice to vicky and alexia will come around. just don't be weird about it."

you nodded along to keira's advice. "but what if vicky doesn't like me?"

keira chuckled. "vicky likes everyone. you gotta be a real asshole to get her to hate you." she dug into her lunchbox and pulled out a juice box. "here, give this to vicky. she loves juice boxes."

you took the juice box out of keira's hand and made your way down to room 30.

you knocked softly on the aquatic decorated door in front of you. you're not sure why, but you were nervous about meeting vicky. children don't make you nervous, but this one did. probably because she's linked to alexia and you would hate for her to tell alexia you were weird to her. that would ruin any future relationship with alexia, and maybe your career.

you were going to leave, but when you heard a small "come in", you knew it was too late to back out. so you opened the door and closed it softly. you saw a brown skinned girl sitting comfortably on the bed, her hair was brushed back into a bun, and her body was covered by purple scrubs, which was covered by an aquatic themed blanket.

"hi vicky..." you greeted. you told her your name and handed her the juice box. you looked up at the tv mounted on the wall and saw a women's football game being broadcasted, feeling bad that you probably interrupted her.

vicky looked at the juice box in her hand then back at you. "are you my new nurse?" vicky questioned with a twinkle of happiness in her brown orbs.

you frowned and shook your head. "no. i'm not." you noticed how quickly the happiness disappeared from her shining eyes. "would you like me to be your new nurse?"

vicky shrugged her shoulders. "i don't know. are you mean?"

you were taken aback by the question. "no. is your current nurse mean to you?"

"yes." vicky admitted sadly. "she doesn't help me when i need her to, she forces me to leave the bathroom door open whenever i use the toilet or shower, and when i tell her that i'm hungry or thirsty, she takes forever to come back, sometimes she doesn't come back at all."

you were disgusted; how could anyone treat a child like this? you took a seat in the chair next to vicky's bed. "how long has she been doing this?"

vicky hummed to herself as she thought about it. "about a week and a half? i try not to need anything so i won't have to interact with her, but it's hard when my heart stops beating every now and then."

you gripped the armchair in anger. "who else knows about this?" you tried your best to conceal the anger in your voice.

"dr. putellas knows. she's been trying to get me a new nurse, but all of the children's nurses are busy."

your anger subdues when vicky mentions alexia. you leaned in closer to vicky. "are you and dr. putellas close with each other?"

vicky beams excitedly. "yes! we're best friends! she even lets me call her alexia when we're in private!"

you couldn't contain the smile that painted itself across your face. seeing how giddy this little girl became now that the conversation was focused on alexia, you couldn't help, but feel giddy as well.

"are you and alexia friends?" vicky asks you as she took a sip from her juice box.

you shook your head. "no, but i'd love to become friends with her."

"everyone wants to be friends with alexia! that's what asisat told me, she told me how popular alexia is among the nurses. it's true, isn't it?"

you nodded. "alexia is very popular."

vicky sighed. "well she told me she wasn't looking for any new friends and that i'm the last friend she'll ever make."

you frowned a bit. "can i be your friend at least?"

vicky nodded happily. "of course you can! you just can't be my best friend or else alexia will get upset."

"okay then." you agreed. "why doesn't alexia want any more friends if she's so popular?" you asked her.

you already knew why alexia was setting boundries for herself, but you were curious of what vicky's reasoning will be. did alexia tell vicky about the harassment she dealt with or did she lie?

vicky shrugged and took a sip of her juice. "no idea. we don't talk about her during work, we talk about our personal lives."

"what do you talk about?" you were definitely pushing the limits by asking this invasive question, but you were so desperate to get any information of the older woman. even if it meant interviewing a kid.

vicky gave you a weird look. "i can't talk about that! it's personal between the two of us." the girl may be eleven, but she also has a set of boundries not to be crossed.

"okay okay." you agreed. "i'm just curious about alexia. it's hard to become friends with someone when you know nothing about them."

vicky shrugged. "have you tried talking to her?"

you didn't answer immediately. you've never made an attempt to talk to the woman because you knew alexia's distain for it. vicky was staring at you with a raised eyebrow.

"no, but that's because she doesn't like it when people approach her for non work related things." you explained.

vicky nodded understandably. "ah..." she looked up at the ceiling as her own thoughts consumed her before turning her attention back to you. "who's your patient?"

"i don't have one." you answered plainly.

"then you can be my nurse. alexia always comes by in the morning at breakfast and in the evening during dinner. you can talk to her during those hours." vicky suggested.

you thought about it for a second. it wasn't a bad idea, you knew you'd have to convince irene to switch to the children's unit, but if you could then the plan would be solid. it would also mean that vicky wouldn't have to deal with that awful nurse anymore. a win-win situation.

you smiled brightly at vicky. "okay vicky! i'll see if i can be your nurse, that way you won't have to worry about the mean one you have now."

vicky matched your bright smile with her own. "really?! thank you! i really don't like the nurse i have, she's like a witch who hasn't reached her final form yet."

you chuckled. "don't worry, vicks. you won't have to worry about her again. i'll talk to dr. paredes about switching."

vicky let out a sigh of relief and leaned back against the bed. you stood up from your chair and excused yourself out of the room, not wanting to waste anymore time. the faster you could make the switch happen, the better.

you passed by the front desk, where keira and aitana talked amongst themselves. you placed your hands flat on the front desk and leaned over aitana.

"aitana? you transferred to esmee because ingrid left the unit?" you questioned aitana like you were some detective of some sort.

aitana nodded. "yeah they were low on staff. ingrid specializes in children's health and maternal health. i specialize in children's health and standard health so they picked me to replace ingrid when ingrid was pulled to assist in the pregnancy unit."

"do you have to be specialized in children's health to work as a nurse in this unit?" you asked. both aitana and keira nodded silently.

you cursed internally; you weren't specialized in children's health, or in any other department for a matter of fact. that's probably why you were caroline's assistant nurse because you had nothing else to bring to the table. if you weren't feeling useless before, you definitely were now.

"are you specialized with children?" aitana asked.

you shook your head.

"but you wanna work with children?" keira asked.

you nodded your head.

"hmm..." both aitana and keira hummed together. the three of you sat in silence as you contemplated your next move.

"wait!" aitana spoke up. "osho works with the children and she doesn't specialize in children's health."

"asisat isn't a nurse, so she doesn't specialize in any kind of health. she's a teacher with a degree in children's development and education." keira explained. "and when she isn't with children, she's here at the front desk." keira pointed to asisat's chair next to her.

"oh right..." aitana bummed out.

you didn't have any degree relating to children. maybe this plan wouldn't work out after all. maybe alexia's actions earlier today meant nothing. maybe you'll just have to settle for being a background character in her world and a nobody in caroline's.

but what about vicky? she'd have to suffer from having an neglectful nurse. no child should have to go through that.

"what if a nurse was neglecting a child? would that nurse be transferred?" you suddenly asked.

your question puzzled both of the women in front of you. keira and aitana looked at each other then back at you.

"she'd be fired." keira answered. "and there would be a scramble to find another nurse to take her place."

aitana squinted her eyes at you suspiciously. "what are you thinking?"

you tell them about vicky's situation and how you want to become vicky's nurse instead. you made no mention of wanting to get closer to alexia, realizing that vicky's safety and comfort was more important than some hospital drama.

aitana's and keira's mouth were slacked open. aitana clasped her hands together. "i fucking knew it. i knew that girl couldn't be trusted, i knew it! i tried to warn irene, but she wouldn't listen!"

keira closed her mouth gently and typed away at her computer. "i knew she had a weird attitude, but i didn't know she was abusing vicky."

"you guys know who she is? vicky didn't tell me her name." you got up from the couch and made your way behind the desk.

"that fucking castillo." aitana spat quietly. "that little rat. when i get my hands on her..."

"calma, aitana." keira commanded softly before turning her attention to you. "nurse athenea. she's been vicky's nurse for about a week now."

"she's not a 'nurse', keira!" aitana snapped.

"quiet, aitana." keira snapped back.

"irene knows? and didn't do anything about it?" you felt your blood start to boil. "vicky said alexia's been trying to get her a new nurse, but to no avail."

"i'm not surprised." keira admitted. "we're low on staff."

"but if a patient, a KID, is being abused then they should do something about it." you challenged, not liking how calm keira was about this.

"it's a disgrace." keira agreed. "but it's up to irene at the end of the day."

"we should..." before aitana could finish her sentence, the front desk phone ringed.

keira hushed the two of you and picked up the phone. "hello?"

"alright. she's on her way down now."

"okay, bye." keira hung up the phone.

she swiveled her chair towards you. "it's irene. she wants to talk to you."

you started to get nervous. it was only your third week and you were already being called down to irene's office. "what does she want to talk about?"

"doesn't matter!" aitana snapped. "tell her to get that rat out of here!"

"aitana, please lower your voice." keira hushed her again.

aitana got up from her seat and stormed off down the hall. keira moves closer to you. "i'm sure this has something to do with what happened earlier, but if you could mention del castillo then that would be the perfect time."

you nodded at her advice and stood up. "got it."

keira sent a pair of thumbs up towards you as you made your departure.

you froze once you were face to face with irene's wooden door. you could hear a few voices going back and forth behind the door, but you couldn't make out what was being said or who was saying what. you just hoped that none of those voices belonged to alexia or caroline.

turns out the universe wasn't on your side today. when you opened the door and stepped inside, you immediately made eye contact with alexia. you ripped you eyes away from hers and landed on caroline, who continued to stare out the window.

you also noticed two other figures besides irene; it was mapi león, the head officer and ingrid's lover, who stood against the window and another woman who you've never seen before. she wore her brown hair into a neat bun that complimented her sleek black suit. her big brown orbs burned a hole into you and you could tell she was the oldest in the room based off her authority.

"thank you for joining us." irene approached you and gestured to the only available chair for you to sit in. the only available chair being next to caroline.

you awkwardly sat down next to the norwegian woman, trying your hardest to ignore the look alexia sent you.

"now that everyone is here..." irene presented herself in front of everyone. "there's going to be some changes going forward. we're not going to keep arguing with each other because we are professionals and it's our job to be professional, but it's not professional when we have this silly soap opera going on."

you took your eyes off of irene for a second and noticed that no one, except you, was actually paying attention to her. mapi's eyes were on irene, but she looked like her mind was somewhere else, both alexia and the mystery woman kept their eyes on you, whilst caroline continued to stare out the window.

"so, i'm gonna take a big risk with this purposal. i've been talking with dr. guijarro about this and we came to the idea that you two need to confront each other in your differences. you don't need to get along, but you need to stop hating each other." irene continued as she paced around the room.

caroline spoke up. "i don't hate anyone."

alexia scoffed. "liar."

"fuck off, putellas." caroline took her eyes off the window and glared at alexia, who glared right back at her.

"you two need to stop! seriously!" irene stressed.

"i do my work, i don't bother anyone, i prefer to be alone." caroline started. all eyes were on her now. "and yet, this piece of shit keeps harassing me for no good reason. what's the reason, putellas? you have all these women foaming at the mouth for you and yet, you still find yourself in my laboratory!"

"if i'm a piece of shit, then you're the devil incarnate. you're an awful fucking person and you don't belong in this hospital." alexia snapped back. "you disregard the human life around you and you treat our patients like... like test subjects rather than actual people who need help!"

caroline laughed. "what the hell are you even talking about? are we resorting to stupid lies because we can't come up with a good enough excuse? is that what we're doing now?"

"i'm not lying. irene, marta, i'm not lying. this woman is a madwoman and you're encouraging her by keeping her employed." alexia looked between irene and the other woman.

"bullshit." caroline responded. "you're literally pulling shit out of your ass. i could also speak on you and how you love to hookup with the nurses here, but that wouldn't be a lie because it's actually true."

alexia was quick to her feet. mapi stepped in and held her arm across the taller woman's chest. both you and marta shared a look of bewilderment while irene messaged her temples.

"i swear to god, i'm going to fucking lose it." irene muttered under her breath.

"testing on patients? sleeping with coworkers? irene what the hell is going on here?!" marta asked as she stood up from her seat.

"I DON'T KNOW, MARTA! I DON'T KNOW!" irene screamed which caught all of you off guard. irene dug her face in the palms of her hands, she attempted to regulate her breathing and you could see her body withering.

when it seemed like things couldn't get worse, the door slammed open revealing a pissed off aitana.

"uh oh..." you muttered to yourself.

"aitana stop!" you heard keira's voice from out the hall. aitana ignored her and glared down at you.

"did you tell her?!" aitana questioned. you knew what she was referring to, but didn't respond. aitana scoffed. "of course you didn't. irene!" she called out.

"what now, aitana?!" irene was already at her breaking point.

"you need to fire athenea del castillo right fucking now!" aitana demanded. "that woman is a rat and is abusing the children!"

the bomb had dropped, but it had yet to explode. marta's eyes shot wide open. irene clinched her hair in fustration. "this again?! i already told you that i'm working on it!"

"what do you mean again?" marta asked.

"well stop working on it and get to firing! you're an awful boss if you're letting your employees abuse children! it's bad enough we're low on staff and money, but you're gonna let child abuse slide?! fucking come on irene! DO YOUR JOB!" aitana snapped.

the bomb had exploded. irene picked up her laptop and slammed it down onto the floor, shattering the electronic device into pieces. "THAT'S IT! ALL OF YOU GET THE HELL OUT OF MY OFFICE!!! I DON'T WANT TO SEE ANY OF YOU FOR THE REST OF THE DAY! GET OUT! NOW! RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!"

caroline sprung out of seat and exited the room quickly. keira yanked aitana out from the doorway and dragged her down the hall. mapi pulled both you and alexia along with her out. marta was the only person who stayed behind, watching as irene destroyed her own office.

(couldn't come up with a good villain, so i just threw athenea del castillo under the bus. sorry bout that.)

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia x reader #alexia putellas #caroline graham hansen x reader #caroline graham hansen #barca femini x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #vicky lopez #woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #vicky lopez x reader

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voidedsilk · 8 hours

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rush hour - toji fushiguro x fem!reader

masterlist

dark content, stranger!toji, P in V, dubcon, public sex, pervert!toji, big dick!toji, fucking on a train seat, toji manhandles you, nameless and faceless!toji (hence him being a stranger), creampie, overstim for a sec, toji plays with your clit, cockwarming, grinding, degrading, dumbification,

summary: you were forced to ride the train during rush hour, not knowing your skirt was bunched up in front of a man who couldn’t help but fuck you.

wc: 1.7k

an: i want dick so bad.

every seat in the cart was full. you assumed the same for the others seeing the people crowding the doors preventing you from checking. it’s not your fault you got off two hours later than you should’ve. your supervisor threw more and more tasks at you demanding each one to be done immediately, not bothering to ask you to remind him what time he scheduled you to clock out that day. so there you were, taking the train during rush hour with no place to sit.

you were shoved from your spot next to the sliding doors once the train hit its next stop to the nearest pole in between the lucky people coming home from work who got to sit.

unbeknownst to you, the back of your skirt was left bunched up in the process giving the man behind you a surprise show of your white, cotton panties sucked up by your plump cheeks. he leans back in his seat to get a better view of your ass, spreading his legs wide enough to not wake the sleeping passengers on either side of him.

his lounge pants tighten around his growing cock. he moves his fingers from their place on his thigh to touch his base slightly, biting down on his maniacal smirk. they then move to the hem of your skirt with a touch so light you couldn’t feel the fabric hiking up further for him, careful not to accidentally nudge the apron still tied to your waist.

you jump at the feeling of someone’s fingers brushing the lace edges of your panties— he got too needy. before you could turn around and reveal yourselves to one another, his hands grip your waist and shove you onto his lap.

“shhh,” he breathlessly whispers into your neck before you can alert the people around you of the man’s advances.

he moves your hips over his now completely hard cock bulging through his sweats. your mouth opens slightly for a muted gasp, feeling taller than you were previously sitting on his upper thighs. yet he still had to lean his head down to command you, “stay quiet f’me, pretty.”

his left arm wraps around your waist, caging you to him. you admired the intricacies of his prominent muscles. they were as toned as those bodybuilders you’d see on magazine covers at the grocery store as a kid. when they flexed around your abdomen, it made you tense. your mind spins to grasp what’s happening to you.

his right arm moves below you as he lifts you with ease. his thumb pulled his underwear and pants down below his balls, shifting slightly to get more comfortable before sitting you on his cock.

his base plunged in between your thighs. you felt his tip barely peaking out the top of your squished thighs, his base rubbing against your clothed clit as well as your heat which was slowly leaking in response to him manhandling you.

he moved you slowly on his cock, your thighs clenching around his tip feeling his pre-cum drip on your skin. your previous tension slowly releases as you are overcome with pleasure. your warm unders grazing him making you shudder, gripping his thighs to find balance when you didn’t need to. he was already holding you tight to him. you just felt so dizzy.

“you okay?” he coos in your ear, aiding in your surrender to his dubious actions. he caught you in an exhausted state, and you couldn’t help but feel the need to relax into his harsh touch.

his movements subside, you taking the lead as you pick up the pace slightly, grinding on his cock. your breasts ached to be touched like an itch you can’t scratch. he uses his unoccupied hand to pull your apron down over your inner thighs when you begin to open your legs. you bite on your bottom lip to contain your quaint moans still aware of the innocent bystanders surrounding you and the possible felony charge.

you’re lifted again so he can move your panties to the side. you turn your head sharply in an attempt to see his face but he was staring down at his cock, angling it towards him so he can plunge his length into you without causing suspicion of those around.

your head falls forward when he sits you down halfway onto his long, thick cock. not to say you weren’t soaked by any means, but you weren’t lubricated enough for a cock of his size to enter practically a virgin pussy in comparison.

you cry to yourself loud enough for him to hear. “take it,” he spits in your ear with gritted teeth, forcing the rest of you down to his hips.

it burned. you wanted to cry out for help but when you felt him rub circles on your clit, you shut down again. biting back your moans as your cunt adjusted to his girth, cockwarming him. his motions sped up, flicking your clit like they did in those underground pornos you found on a depraved night.

your thighs clenched around his hand. your back arching as you were about to reach your climax on this faceless stranger's cock, until his hand left your pulsing bud and moved parallel to his other on your waist.

you two stayed like that for a full stop. the bottom half of you writhing on top of him begging for friction, the top being forced straight up with his grip on your waist, your face contorted in pleasure.

“you’re so pathetic,” he growls in your ear. “begging a stranger's cock.”

you whine.

“you want me to fuck you? you want a stranger to make you cum?”

you nod.

“you’re gonna let me cum inside you, huh?” he asks like you’ve agreed to it prior. like you agreed to all of this prior.

you shook your head no.

he lifted you off his cock making a shaking moan rip from your throat. lucky for you, the doors opened just a few seconds before, the train cart too loud to hear you. same with the people sleeping directly next to you two.

he smacks you right back down on his thighs with a wet plop. “god, woman,” he laughs. “i’m cumming in you.”

his moves you back and forth on his cock. you dig your nails into his legs; it was your mind telling you to stop. trying to get you to wake up from the cock drunk state you were in. it failed.

the pain he felt from your sharp acrylics only made him thrust with his movements. it was a pace that would make it obvious you were being fucked on a train to anyone paying attention, but no one looked. it was like you two weren’t there. it made you want to release the moans caught in your throat again but you continued struggling to remain quiet, not wanting to test it.

you leaned your head back on his shoulder, eyes rolling in the back of your head, fully submitting to him. you wanted him to fuck you hard. you wanted him to load his cum inside of you. you didn’t care about the consequences.

just as before, he didn’t need to guide you anymore. your hands were between both of your legs resting on the seat below to hold you up while you lazily bounced on his cock. your skirt lifted with every hop for him to see the way your pussy struggled to mold around him.

it was clear from his view your walls ached with each movement, sucking him in harder than any woman he’s fucked before. you whore, taking him willingly. wanting him to stretch you. wanting him to leave you sore for a good day or two. he hoped for longer. he wanted you to lay in bed tomorrow night still struggling to get comfortable, thinking of how much of a cumdump you are.

he wanted it so much, he had to tell you. he tugged on your hair making you lean back on his shoulder once more, “look at you. taking me so well. you feel it? me stretching you. i want you to remember how much of a slut you are. how you’re fucking yourself on me. how you’re made for nothing more than holding cum.”

you whine, thighs shaking from his words.

“are you seriously cumming? because i called you a worthless whore?” he groaned.

he wrapped your hair tight in his hands and began stroking up into you to prove his point. to fill you will his cum. hitting that part of your gummy walls that made you see stars. he watched your ass giggle as you slammed repeatedly on him, leaving red splotches with each smack. it was the longest orgasm you’ve had in a while. your feet cramping from your contorting toes, your body hunching forward in exhaustion, your walls continuing to pulsate, and your cream drenching his hips, seeping into his hair.

he still wasn’t close. he continued to slam himself into you relishing in the fact that no one seemed to notice the woman slumped in his lap like a rag doll. once you stopped clenching around him, his fingers immediately ran to your clit hoping your overstimulation would make you clamp back on him. you did.

you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore leaving him to carry and fuck you. you were starting to lose control of your voice letting out the occasional squeak. he didn’t care as much as he should because soon, his ropes of cum were shooting into your cervix, filling you fully. his lap was a messy mix of fluids, the force of his cum making everything else gush out of you.

the voice on the intercom was muffled to your ears but clear to him. his stop was next. he lifted your limp body off of his limp cock and shoved you up to stand. you barely caught yourself on the pole you were hanging on previously.

he pulled his clothes over his cock quickly in the process and stood up, leaving his seat to walk towards the sliding doors.

you on the other hand. your panties were still pulled to the side. toji’s cum dripping down to your mid-thigh.

#jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader smut #toji x reader smut

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theferrarieffect · 2 days

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snickerdoodles, chapter 2: a hard day's work, meeting the drivers, a lesson about taking someone for granted (4.1k words)

previous chapter here!

warnings: stupid sexy sainz glazing, potentially inaccurate descriptions of medical training in the UK, a bit of angst

chapter 2: cinnamon goodbyes

Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeep.

You could hear that damn pager every day for the rest of your life, and you’d still never get used to the way it just grates on your eardrums. Forcing your eyelids open, you blearily scrabble around the nightstand for your glasses—unfortunately, you’re blind as a bat without them.

“Hullo, this is the junior doctor on trauma call,” you mumble into the speaker.

The emergency med consultant on the line informs you that there’s a few traumas about to start rolling into the hospital. If you weren’t awake before, you’re alert now. You yank on a pair of clean scrubs and the first jacket you can find in the heap of clothes on your couch—the laundry may have gotten done, but that didn’t mean you got around to folding it. Only on the drive to the hospital do you realize it has the McLaren logo embroidered on your left chest.

You shake your head, smiling to yourself. Every time Oscar comes and goes, he seems to forget something at your flat. A cap, a sweatshirt, a pair of socks. The forgetfulness is cute…until you spy a piece of abandoned orange gear during a moment of particular weakness, and feel a pang of longing that promptly needs to be tamped down.

But today is a good day. The jacket makes you smile instead of filling your eyes with bitter tears. You and Oscar had polished off the pavlova, agreed to attempt lemon bars the next time he was around (despite the fact neither of you knew when exactly that would be), and parted with the usual hug and jaunty waves two weeks ago now.

A part of you felt guilty at the tiny bit of relief you’d felt watching the cab take him away to the airport. Of course you’d been excited to see him—he’s Oscar, your best friend, the person who knows you inside and out, the person you’d go running to at a moment’s notice if he needed you, the person who makes you feel utterly comfortable. Made. Unfortunately, nothing about this last visit felt comfortable.

Get a grip, you tell yourself firmly. You’ve done this before, you can move past it again.

This being the completely unreasonable, completely irrational crush you seem to be developing on Oscar. You’d say developing again, but if you thought about it hard enough—which, admittedly, you tried to avoid at all costs—you’d have to say it was just one long crush that just came and went.

A flash of plasma splits the dark sky in two, jerking you out of your reverie, followed almost immediately by the roar of thunder. You’d put money on the traumas being a result of accidents on the slick motorways, careless drivers skidding along the roads, thinking nobody else would be driving at that hour. You’re being extra careful yourself as you gingerly pull into the car park and slot yourself into the closest spot you can find. You pull the hood of Oscar’s jacket over your head as you run into the doors of the A&E, jumping puddles and sending up the same prayer you do before every shift.

Please let all of the cases go well today.

And thankfully, despite the veritable typhoon outside, you get your wish. Today is a good day. You scrub in on a patient in pretty bad shape after a motor vehicle accident, but the trauma consultant’s nimble fingers track down the source of the bleed swiftly, and your team’s able to patch him up and send him to the recovery wards before noon. Then you walk into a different OR—this one working on a fall patient—but the table is crowded with other junior doctors, and the consultant waves you away.

It’s not until you step outside and the bright midday sun sears your eyeballs that the wall of post-call fatigue hits you. You stagger into your car, not caring really that your hair is matted from being in a scrub cap since two in the morning, or that the bridge of your glasses dig painful grooves into your nose. Miraculously, you make it home in one piece.

The hot water of your shower pounding your back is the only thing you can think about as you wearily open your mailbox and grab the sheaf of envelopes within. Then how good your pillow’s going to feel, as you toss the mail carelessly onto your coffee table and head into the promised land of your shower.

Towel secured around your dripping hair, you walk into the kitchen to drug yourself with melatonin—an unfortunate necessity to cope with the utter lack of circadian rhythm medical training has cursed you with—and flip aimlessly through your mail as you wait for it to kick in. Bills, adverts, more bills.

Then you notice a creamy white envelope with your name and address scrawled on it. You’d recognize the little hook of the y's, the c's that seem to quit before they finish their curve upwards, anywhere.

Wide awake for the second time today, you tear it open gingerly.

I know we agreed to do lemon bars, but George just told me about his mum’s shortbread cookies. So maybe you can give it a try while I’m gone. Let me know how you like it!! -Oscar

Written below, in the same penmanship, is presumably George Russell’s mother’s cookie recipe.

Oh, Oscar. Even when he’s a million miles away—well, however far from the UK Qatar happens to be, anyway—he never fails to make your day.

You bring the card into your bedroom and prop it up on your nightstand. It’s the last thing you see before you mercifully sink into a deep, dreamless slumber.

“Hey, Oscar’s here!” your brother’s shout echoes up the stairs.

Instantaneously, you drop the pencil and straightedge you’d been using to painstakingly graph a titration curve on your chemistry homework, wasting no time in racing downstairs.

“Hey, man,” you hear Oscar’s voice say, and the sound of two palms crisply colliding.

When you reach the foyer, your brother’s staring up at Oscar with naked adoration. But Oscar’s smile is directed straight at you. “So what are we baking today?”

“Well, we just bought a boatload of cinnamon,” you inform him. “So I was thinking…snickerdoodles?”

Oscar’s eyes widen. “No way,” he exclaims.

“Yes way,” you laugh. “Are you a fan?”

“They’re, like, my favorite cookie of all time.”

“Perfect,” you respond, feeling a bit pleased with yourself as you lead the way into the kitchen. “So you won’t mind putting them in and taking them out of the oven.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners. “You really don’t like the heat, do you?”

“It’s hot,” you complain. “And knowing me, I’d just find a way to burn myself really bad.”

It’s been maybe two months, give or take, since the first time you baked together. Since then, not a single Friday has gone by without ending in something sugary and delicious, courtesy of you and Oscar’s toils. Last week, it was peanut butter cookies. This week, snickerdoodles. Needless to say, you’ve become quite popular with your families, friends, and the occasional fortunate Home Ec classmate.

Now, you have it down to a science. The recipe’s already pinned to the fridge with a cookie-shaped magnet. Without having to say a word, Oscar hits the button to preheat the oven as you dump butter and sugar into a bowl and feed it to the stand mixer.

“It gets really hot in the karts, too,” Oscar says, almost under his breath.

“Huh?” You’re not sure if you heard him correctly. Did he mean car?

“The karts,” he repeats quietly. “You’re basically sitting on top of the engine. So it gets hot.”

You knit your brows. “Karts? Like, go-karts?”

And that’s all it takes to open the floodgates; Oscar launches into an explanation of the racing categories, the formats of the races, even the components of the kart itself. You’ve never heard so many consecutive words come out of his mouth, and you’re pretty sure yours hangs ajar, just slightly. Clearly, it’s something he lives and breathes—and you would never have guessed it from the perpetually bored boy sitting next to you every day, too young even to have a real driver’s permit.

It’s pretty incredible.

“You think so?” Oscar asks, a smile creeping onto his face. You blush. Didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“Yeah,” you squeak. “Is this something you could, like, do for the rest of your life?”

Oscar’s face suddenly goes serious, but a dreamy look takes over his pupils. “If you’re good enough…” he trails off. He clears his throat, and his voice fills with steely resolve. “I’m working on it.”

Impressed by his determination, you nod. “Well, it sounds like you’re committed. So there’s no reason you won’t make it.” You’re rewarded with the sight of a dimple on his left cheek.

He turns to the countertop, starts tearing off pieces of dough, rolls them methodically between his palms. A golden brown ball forms in his hands, and he places it onto the greased baking sheet.

“Your turn,” he says casually, as he shapes another cookie.

You reach over him to start rolling your own dough. “My turn for what?”

Oscar keeps churning out cookies, but fixes his gaze on you. “To tell me what you want to do for the rest of your life.”

Oh.

It’s not like you don’t have an answer. In fact, for most of your life, it’s been the only answer. But suddenly, faced with such a direct request to share, you hesitate.

“You don’t have to tell me if—” Oscar starts.

“No,” you say quickly. “I just—I don’t know.” You stare down at the overworked ball of dough in your hands. “Maybe it feels like I’m jinxing something if I say it.”

You think that maybe Oscar would find you silly, but he doesn’t laugh.

“I get it,” he says simply.

“But that’s dumb,” you continue, a little forcibly. You shake your head. “I want to go to medical school. At Oxford. Or maybe somewhere in the States.”

Oscar’s eyes widen. “Wow. So you want to be a doctor.”

“Not just any doctor,” you carry on blindly. “A neurosurgeon. I’ve wanted to be one for as long as I can remember. That’s why I want to study in the UK, or the US…they have the best ones in the world over there.”

He laughs. You want to kick yourself for telling this random boy about the dream you’ve kept secret your entire life, not even your parents privy to it yet. And he laughs. You flush angrily, but Oscar continues to chuckle as he says—

“And I thought the Formula One thing was badass. A brain surgeon? I should’ve known—you’re just…built different.”

“Stop it,” you protest weakly. Your cheeks still burn, but now just with embarrassment at your presumptiveness. “I mean, who knows if I’ll change my mind. Or even make it to that point.”

Oscar shakes his head so emphatically, you’re afraid his chunk of dough will go flying across the kitchen. “No.”

“What?”

“No,” he repeats. His eyes are warm. “I’ve seen you in class…you know everything. I dunno a single person smarter than you, and there’s a lot of nerds in our grade.”

You laugh, ask him if he’s accusing you of being a nerd. Now it’s Oscar’s turn to blush.

“I’ll make you a deal,” you say, pushing the baking sheet towards Oscar, who seamlessly slides it into the oven. “If you make it to Formula One, you invite me to a race. And I…”

Oscar’s lips curl in a smirk. “Don’t you dare say you’ll operate on my brain!”

You burst out laughing. “Alright, alright, no free brain surgery.”

“Sounds like a deal,” he says, and holds out his hand, slick with oil.

You giggle as you take it, like two executives shaking on a crucial business deal.

When the smell of cinnamon perfumes the air, Oscar spares you from having to take the snickerdoodles out of the oven. Through mouthfuls of cookie, he tells you about driving in the rain.

It’s sunny at Silverstone, a rare occurrence. Only a few fluffy white clouds interrupt the expanse of the bluest sky. But there’s no opportunity to admire the sky, because it’s taking all the concentration you can muster not to bump into someone—especially someone rich or important, who you weren’t aware was rich or important—as you follow Oscar through the bustling paddock. A guest pass dangles around your neck, and you marvel at the fact that despite having lived in Oxford for six years and London for one, it’s your first time watching a race in the flesh.

Oscar brings you to a throng of people, dressed in the same orange—excuse me, papaya, Oscar had made sure to inform you—polos as him. “This is McLaren,” he gestures.

A chorus of “welcome”s and “nice to meet you”s greets you. You recognize Lando Norris, his curly brown hair poking through the opening of his cap, brim facing backwards, of course.

“You’re Lando, right?”

Lando smiles at you widely. His eyes are icy blue. “Yep. And you’re Oscar’s…friend.” He might as well have winked, smirked, and nudged you in the side for good measure, he’s that tactless.

F1 drivers, you sigh in your head. They’re no better than the boys in uni. You suppose then that some of them are, in fact, about as old as the boys in uni.

“Nice to meet you.” You accept his outstretched hand.

“Oh hello, who is this?” Two more guys materialize behind Lando. One’s tall—too tall, honestly, to be a driver—and one you can only describe as looking utterly, well, American. They’re wearing navy shirts, emblazoned with a sky blue W on the chest.

Lando smirks. “Ask Osc. It’s his guest.”

A look of surprise flashes across the tall one’s face. “Really now?” He smiles politely at you. “Pleasure to meet you. My name’s Alex.”

Alex…Alex. Oh yes—Alex Albon. He’s missing the bleached hair, but then again, that was last season’s headshot. So what if you’d studied up on the drivers’ faces, what if you might even have made a few flashcards? You wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Oscar’s colleagues.

“Logan,” the blond one says, and you think that the name Logan Sargeant could not be a more stereotypical name for the sole American driver.

“What do you do? Like as a job?” Lando butts in. Alex chuckles.

You glance at Oscar, but he seems unbothered by the interrogation. Lando sure is nosy.

“Well,” you say a little awkwardly, only recently having gotten used to the title, “I’m a junior doctor. I work at Imperial College in London.”

Lando lets out a low whistle; Alex raises an eyebrow. Logan’s the only one who seems unfazed, and it occurs to you that he’s probably never heard of Imperial.

“It’s, like, Harvard in the UK,” Oscar clarifies, surprising you, and Logan’s eyes widen.

“Beauty and brains,” Lando says. “Where can I get one too, Osc?”

Oscar rolls his eyes.

Logan smirks. “Do you have any hot friends?” he adds.

Well, two could play at that game. “I don’t know,” you grin back at him. “Do you?” You cast a casual glance around the crowds, until—

You stop short.

“Who is that?”

Oscar follows your gaze across the paddock, through the scarlet-clad engineers and pit crew milling around the Ferrari garage, to a man in a matching red shirt and slightly atrocious light wash skinny jeans. He gestures to another guy in headphones, and they both tilt their head back in laughter. He runs a hand through a head full of Disney prince hair.

“Ugh,” Oscar mutters almost imperceptibly, under his breath.

“What?” you demand.

The beautiful stranger catches you staring, flashes you a smile that you didn’t realize normal humans could conjure. You just know your cheeks are as red as the Ferrari livery as he strides over, out of place yet oddly familiar among the McLaren staff.

Lando grins at you, cuffs you lightly on the shoulder as if you’ve been friends your whole life, instead of having met not even ten minutes ago. “Looks like there’s another Carlos groupie in the paddock today.”

“I like my groupies, Lando,” Carlos replies teasingly. His voice is gravelly and deep. Melodic. He extends a hand connected to a deeply tanned arm, and despite your brain short-circuiting at the worst possible time, you manage to reach out and shake it.

“Nice to meet you,” you force yourself to say. “I’m Oscar’s friend.”

“Carlos Sainz,” he says, his brown eyes boring into yours. He has the longest eyelashes you’ve ever seen. That headshot of his had done him so dirty. Hell, he looked like a normal person in it. Handsome, sure. But you’re not entirely sure the man standing in front of you right now isn’t some kind of mirage your horny mind has cooked up…

“Alright then,” Oscar cuts in, his voice suddenly having taken on an edge that definitely wasn’t there moments ago. “I wanna show you around the motorhome. Good seeing you, Carlos.”

“Always,” Carlos responds smoothly, but his gaze remains stubbornly trained on you. You can’t help but giggle.

As Oscar leads you through the doors of the motorhome, you glance back to see Lando and Carlos whispering conspiratorially like a bunch of schoolgirls. You remember watching a video on Youtube of them screeching as they reached blindly into a mystery box, and you can see why people like to pretend they’re a couple.

“What’s gotten into you?” you prod Oscar.

Oscar huffs, lips set in an annoyed line. “Just because he looks like—like—”

“A Disney prince?” you supply helpfully.

“Fine, whatever, a Disney prince,” he grumbles, clearly refusing to lend any personal credence to the words. “He’s bad news. You should stay away.”

You chuckle at his uncharacteristic animosity. “Are you salty because he forced you off the track that one race?”

“No,” he snaps. “You know I’m not the kind of guy to be stupid overprotective. But Sainz…well, he likes women way too much. And you’re basically guaranteed to get your heart broken if you fall for him.”

“Damn, is everyone on Ferrari just a red flag then?” you quip.

Oscar visibly relaxes. “I knew you’d get it,” he says, obviously relieved. “Yeah. Let’s just say Charles and Carlos…not the best track record with girls on the grid.”

“No pun intended.” And Oscar holds open the door as you giggle your way into the motorhome.

Sometimes, one isn’t sure of when the significance, or perception, of someone shifts from one thing to another. When you realize you no longer recognize the girl you used to ride your scooter down the street with, donned in matching pigtails, when your parents aren’t infallible gods, when your young English teacher shows up tired on a Monday and you realize they were, in fact, hungover.

But with Oscar...you could pinpoint the exact moment it happened.

It’s any other Friday. Instead of listening to your teacher talk about the extreme value theorem, your pencil dances curlicues around your paper. You and Oscar are baking cinnamon rolls tonight from scratch, and your mouth already waters at the thought of warm cinnamon and the drizzle of white glaze atop the rolls.

When class ends, you walk out the double doors where Oscar is leaning against the wall, waiting for you like he always does. His buddies nudge him with their elbows when they see you, and you’re all too aware of their smirks. You roll your eyes.

To be fair, it’s not like your friends are any better about it—and no amount of you (or Oscar) insisting that there’s nothing going on between you two will convince them otherwise.

“Ready to go?” he asks, jingling his keys in front of your nose. Oscar just got his license, and until you turn 17 he’s going to waste no opportunities lording it over you. You always make a big show of being afraid for your life, even though he’s the best karter in Australia.

You walk together to his car in the parking lot. Oscar seems quiet, so you chatter on about your friends’ latest woes, the chemistry test you’re pretty sure you’re going to fail (whoever invented acid-base titration deserves to go to hell, honestly), whether you two should cough up the cash to buy almond flour for notoriously finicky macarons.

It isn’t until he sticks the keys in the ignition that you realize he hasn’t said more than five words.

“Hey,” you say. “You good?”

Oscar’s eyes are unfocused. “Yeah...” He clears his throat. “Actually...I don’t know.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Maybe we should go home first.” Oscar’s voice is gentle, but something is definitely up.

“You’re scaring me,” you tell him in what you hope is a lighthearted tone, as he pulls out of the parking spot, staring directly ahead the entire way to your house.

He only tells you after he’s removed the steaming rolls from the oven. Something about Formula 4 and a sponsorship from HP Tuners and moving to the UK, except you really only hear the last part.

Your insides turn to ice.

Oscar looks down at your feet, as if he’s afraid to meet your eyes, afraid to see your reaction.

The smell of cinnamon wafts from the counter. It makes you feel sick.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

“When?”

Oscar tilts his head.

“When—when do you go?” you ask again, hating the way your voice shakes.

He closes his eyes.

“In a month.”

One month. In four weeks, this boy who you had to sit next to in Home Ec will walk out of your life as abruptly as he walked into it. In thirty days, this boy who you’ve baked for as many Fridays with, who’s become your best friend and then some, will be ten thousand miles away.

And then you think about Oscar. How he’s leaving behind not only you, but everything he’s ever known in Australia. You’re losing him. He’s losing his entire world.

So you only nod, choking back the sob building in your throat.

“I’ll miss you,” you say evenly. You wipe your clammy palms, surreptitiously, on your jeans. His eyes flare in surprise, probably at how calm you appear. “But you should know—I’m really, really proud of you, and you’re going to make all of your dreams come—”

Oscar cuts you off mid-sentence, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

He smells like cinnamon and flour, and only then do you realize that you’d never really hugged before. He’s taller than me now, you think, as your hands slide below his armpits. And when he’ll undoubtedly grow enough to tower over you, you won’t be there to see it.

You drop your arms, and Oscar tenses up, releasing you too. He clears his throat just as you cough, almost simultaneously. Both of you laugh awkwardly.

“Well,” you say.

“Well,” he echoes. “We’ll keep in touch, right?”

“Right,” you say, but it comes out barely a whisper.

Oscar picks his backpack up off the floor, slowly sliding the straps onto his shoulders, as if dragging it out would prevent him from having to leave your house.

You wave at him as he walks down your driveway and climbs into his car, but as soon as he turns the corner and disappears, tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You wipe them away with a sleeve.

Then you turn and go back to the kitchen, to clean up the mess you two made. You slowly flick the cinnamon rolls into the trash, one after another, listening to the hollow thunks they make against its aluminum walls.

Oscar was never just Oscar. But people tend not to know what they have.

Until it’s gone.

taglist: @sideboobrry11

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fluff #op81 x you #op81 x reader #op81 #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction

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vespertiliosworld · 1 day

Text

Broken Bonds

English is not my native language, please forgive me if I'm mistaken.

---

In nearly a year since you'd been living at Wayne Manor, you hadn't tried to bond with any of your family members. Especially with Damian, the arrogant and self-important gnome. The boy made it clear from the first moment you arrived that he didn't like you. Even though you were younger and skinnier than him, he saw you as a rival.

Once you started living with Bruce, you inevitably became a hero. Since your biological family's father was already a hero before he died, you were going to follow in his footsteps anyway, but living with Bruce made you a hero sooner.

You called yourself Aella. This means Hurricane in Greek and is also the name of one of the Amazon warriors. You can direct the wind, even a little, by using hand fans, or you can easily cut someone's throat thanks to the special material it is made of.

He never hid his hatred for you, especially on patrol. Now, as you sat in the computer chair in the bat cave, investigating a case, it was too quiet to be in cave. Nightwing and Red Robin were on patrol, Bruce had met with the Justice League, and Damian was in his room. This was supposed to be a peaceful night until Damian came downstairs.

The little bastard decided to test you and threw a shuriken. Of course you noticed this and caught it by simply moving your arm. "Hello to you too, Damian." you said in a tired tone.

He wrinkled his nose and looked down at you. "You're so slow, you could be dead by now." He came down with his hands behind his back.

You laughed uneasily and put shiruken on the ground. "Believe me, if anyone was going to die, it would be you." You didn't pay attention to Damian as you quickly ran your fingers across the keyboard. "Why are you here? Are you done with your homework?" you said with a sideways glance.

Damian squinted as he wandered around the bat cave. "You're not my father, it's none of your business." When his eyes shifted to the bat computer, he took a few steps towards to you. "What are you working on?"

Your lips turned up in amusement. "You're not Bruce, it's none of your business." With the joy of shooting him with his own gun, you closed the file and stood up. "I am going out."

Damian stepped in front of you and wrapped his arms around his chest. "You can't go, father didn't allow it."

You raised an eyebrow and placed your hands on your hips. "I don't need anyone's permission." He didn't stop you when you walked past him. You put on your hero costume and quickly left the batcave to go to the coordinates you set on your tablet.

You were in a hurry to get to the coordinates as you jumped from one rooftop to another. You had finally found the location of the murderer who killed your family and made your life miserable. Bruce had taught you not to kill, but the rage inside you didn't seem to stop until that bastard was dead.

Finally you come to an street in Crime Alley. You stood on the roof of the building opposite the house where he lived and watched the dimly lit house. While your blood was boiling, there was still a voice inside you telling you not to do it. You took a step forward and prepared to throw your hook at the other building. Your movements were slow and cautious. The voice telling you not to do it was clouding your mind.

You stopped and took a deep breath. When you managed to silence the voice, you moved to throw the hook, but at the same time, the shiruken hit your hand and dropped the hook. You held your hand in pain and immediately looked around. Damian stood in his Robin costume, staring at you with . “I'm disappointed, you're betraying all the hard work my father has put into you."

"You can't understand this." You shouted in anger and clenched your fists. "Also why are you here?!"

"Tch!" He wrapped his arms around his chest and turned his head. "To stop you from doing something stupid, of course." He looked into your eyes before taking out his Shiruken and throwing it at you. "If you give up now, I won't hurt you."

You clenched your fists and turned your eyes towards the man's apartment."I want to kill him." Your voice was fueled with hatred. Damian knew what was going to happen next. "He took my family from me, everything! He doesn't deserve to live."

Damian frowned and positioned himself to attack. "You don't get to decide that." His gaze became determined. "I'm warning you for the last time." he said sternly.

You shook your head and took out your sharp-edged fan. "I didn't want it to be this way, Damian." You said and quickly ran towards him. Even though you were fast, you couldn't fully escape Damian's shiruken. You were stunned by the shiruken that scratched your cheek and leg. When you jumped on him with a fan, he quickly took out his katana and hit the sharp blades of the hand fan.

You stood back. After taking a few seconds to catch your breath, you jumped on the katana thrown by Damian, who was coming towards you, and you stepped on it and got behind Damian. You quickly kicked him in the back and pushed him to the edge of the roof. "You can't beat me Robin, remember I've been watching you for almost a year. I know your moves."

Damian turned around and grinned. "Maybe yes, but it's something else you don't know." He wiped his shoulders as if there was dust on them. "My father."

At that moment, you literally swallowed your tongue with the huge shadow that fell over you. You turned to look at the Batman, but were knocked back by a punch to the face. You groaned in pain as you were dragged to the edge of the roof.

You slowly stood up, the hard look in Batman's eyes making you shiver. You wiped the blood from your nose and grit your "Killing him won't change anything, we don't kill." He warned you.

You laughed uneasily. "Maybe you're right, maybe you're not." You put your hands in your jacket pockets and grinned. "You said the same thing about Joker, but then you lost Jason."

You felt Batman become engulfed in gloom and anger. You raised your hands and held them above your head. "Okay, I give up." Batman didn't say anything. Robin, on the other hand, was looking at you on the corner of the roof with his arms wrapped around his chest and his brows furrowed.

"If this is another trick, Aella-" Batman said suspiciously. He set out as soon as he received Damian's call, he expected something like this from you, but he didn't believe you would give up so easily.

You laughed sarcastically and shook your head. "I got what I wanted, there's no reason not to give up." you said as you turned your eyes to that bastard's window. I told you about your marrow guiding the wind, right? That's exactly what you did when you attacked Damian.

Batman's eyes opened in shock and looked at the man's window, but the man was not visible due to the blood on the window. He clenched his fists and turned to you. "How can you do that?!"

"Like I did." You looked at him with a joyful grin on your face and bowed your head. "Maybe you're not killing, but I am." You put your hands down and stood up on your knees.

Batman clenched his fists. " You betrayed my orders!" His voice was very loud, his voice normally would scare you but after achieving your goal, you felt nothing.

Suddenly you started to laugh. As the sound of your laughter echoed in Gotham, you covered your face with your hands. "It's over! I got my revenge!" You surrendered under the judgmental gaze of Batman and Robin. You didn't regret what you did.

---

#damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x y/n #batfamily x reader #batfam x reader #batfamily #batman #batman x reader #batfam x batsis #batfam x you #batman x child!reader

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tonguepiercedanyway75 · 3 hours

Text

subspace // Matty Healy x Reader

a/n: requests are open ;)

summary: you use your safe word with matty and his attitude changes completely from mean to loving when you go into subspace

content warning: 18+ MDNI, p in v sex, rough sex, overstimulation,Use of safe word, aftercare, babying reader

based on this request

────────────────────────

Matty just came back from tour and he had to have you. Not that it bothered you because when he came back with the mustache you jumped his bones, craving him as much as he did. Craving love.

He was frustrated, almost angry, wanting to take his feelings out on you in some way. He made sure you know your safe word before you started, which meant he would not show any mercy.

He‘s being rough with you, selfishly trying to make you cum for the third time. It’s a blessing of course and some times you’re definitely up for spice in bed but today’s different, today it just hurts.

You’re on the verge of tears. You want to enjoy it, you want to enjoy it so badly, because the first two orgasms were fucking amazing, but your brain is slipping, and everything hurts in a bad way. As he thrusts into you, pain shoots down your thighs.

„Look at you, crying over my cock,“ he groans in your ear, his face being next to yours, not being able to see your facial expressions but hearing you sniffle. „Filthy fucking whore.“

You jerk backwards, away from him, and he tuts, bringing you back to him, his fingers digging into the pillow soft flesh of your hips. “What do you think you’re doing?, you aren’t goin’ anywhere love.“

His hips snap roughly into yours, over and over, again and again. Beads of perspiration start trailing their way down the sides of his face, the tip of his nose. His chest is flushed, red, and also slicked with a thin sheen of sweat.

„Matty, please,“ you’re begging for him to stop but he doesn’t know that. He thinks you’re begging for him to continue, his thumb coming down to rub your clit. You jump, whining at the overstimulation.

„Please? You’re a beg.“ His teeth sink down into your shoulder, trying to keep him from cumming before giving you another orgasm. „Didn’t remember you being so greedy, show some manners.“ He grumbles, his hand giving your thigh a slap. It hurts so bad you jerk away from him again, not pleasing him with your action.

„Now you’re just asking for it,“ he bucks forward into you, eliciting another strangled cry followed by a string of pathetic whimpers.

„Manchester,“ you whisper into his arms but he keeps going, his thumb still on your clit. You think he’s ignoring you, being actually mad at you for something. “Manchester Matty, Manchester .” You scream, trying to push his body away.

His motions come to an immediate stop, his face coming up from your neck, looking into your eyes where he finally finds your exhausted, desperate look.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Matty curses under his breath, pulling out of you. The bed shifts as he rolls off of you, cupping your face in his hands, “love are you alright?”

He pauses for a moment, expecting to get a response from you, at least a blissed out hum. However, when he gets nothing in response, he is instantly worried.

“Shit, darling you with me?” Your eyes are somewhere else but definitely not in the room with you. Matty realizes that you’re in subspace, wanting to get up to pull a shirt over your head, when you grab his hand, too freaked out.

“Matt- m’sorry,” you have his arm in a tight grip, too afraid that he’s gonna leave you alone. “Sorry,” you say again.

“Love, shhhhh,” he quietly responds as he lowers himself back down on to you. You are bsolutely beyond floaty. He wraps himself back around you, keeping one hand one your cheek, to rub soothing circles into it. “Don’t apologize.”

“Take some deep breaths baby, can you do that for me?” You nod one time, somehow not being able to move more. “Good love, breathe in through your nose on 3, then out through your mouth.”

He’s breathing with you a couple of times, knowing that it’s calming your racing heart. “Thank you love, did so good.” He takes your hands in his and gently brings them to his lips.

You’re still not moving, one leg of yours draped over Matty’s thigh to make sure he’s not going to move. Matty of course wants to draw you a bath, clean you and get you dressed but that’s not what you want. Not yet.

“Did I hurt you?” Matty’s voice is calm, but you can hear the concern that laces his tone.

You nod, “a little.” Matty’s head shoots up, his eyes filled with worry, trying to actively see where you’re hurt. “S’ okay Matty-“

“Fuck,” he says, “it’s not, shouldn’t have hurt you love.” He leans his head down to kiss your forehead a couple of times. “I’m so sorry baby.”

You feel yourself drifting back to reality again, Matty’s touch feeling so real. Shame and guilt washing over you as you think about what happened. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” His thumb brushes over your lip, “you did the right thing, no need to apologize, understand?”

The tear that rolls down your cheek is caught by Matty’s thumb, “but I don’t ever want to let you down.”

“Baby,” his arms wrap around your thigh but then he flinches, “can I?” You give him the okay and he lifts you onto his lap.

“You could never ever let me down, ever,” your head falls against his shoulder, not wanting him to see your puffy eyes. “You’re always so good to me, I’m so proud of you.”

You nod against him and then again after he speaks again. “You always have to tell me ‘f I hurt you alright?”

Both of you close your eyes for a couple of minutes, feeling the heaviness float way into thin air as Matty rubs your back and whispers apologies into your ear.

“Let me run you a bath, how’s that sound?” His hands grip your thighs softly, pulling you from his lap so he can stand up. The cold air hits your body, still naked and the blanket only covering your feet.

Matty puts a pair of boxers on before turning to you, meeting your watery eyes. “Baby, I’ve got you.” he says as he moves his thumb to your chin.

“What do you need?” He it’s clear to see that you’re a bit uncomfortable and still shaky from the previous action.

“I love you,” you mumble, not answering his question but your word still comes across as if you only need him to stay.

“I love you too, baby.” Matty pulls away and touches the tip of his nose to yours. “Can you walk to the bathroom?”

You sit up and go to stand, but your legs are shaking, so you grip his arm. He frowns gently, and then asks, “Is it okay if I pick you up?”. Again, all you can do is nod. He carries you into the bathroom, over to the tub, before setting you down on the edge.

Matty turns on the water tap, feeling the tight temperature, before giving you a small kiss and going into your bedroom to pull clothes out of your drawer.

He picks one of his t-shirts, a pair of underwear and a pair of Pyjamas, before going back into the bathroom.

“Come on,” he says softly, carrying you bridal style into the tub. He crawls into the tub behind you, pulling you close to his chest as he begins to wash your skin, making sure to lather and massage your scalp.

You know he feels guilty about pushing you so far, but that thought is so far in your brain. He makes sure you’re nice and clean, rubbing your arms gently.

You let your head rest against his chest, enjoying the warmth of the water and his massaging motions on your skin. “Does it still hurt anywhere?” You shake your head, telling him the actual truth because he’s already making you fell better.

“Good baby,” you smile as he preps your face with kisses.

The two of you spend quite some time in the bath with Matty running a soapy wash cloth with your favorite shower gel all over your body as he sits behind you, lips pressed against your ear. Matty washes you slowly, carefully, and all the while he’s whispering sweet, tender praise.

After you both realize the temperatures loosing its warmth, he stands up, taking your hands.

“We gotta get up,” before you get too cold, he just comes from behind begins to dry you off, making sure to grab the softest possible towel.

He tells you to sit down again, he kneels down in front of you and begins to dress you. You want to object but Matty knows you too well.

“I want to,” He says softly, leaning down to kiss your leg gently as he slips on your pajama shorts. Then, he says, “Lift your arms for me,” and you comply, letting him slip the tee shirt on.

After brushing your hair and putting it in a ponytail he lefts you up again, putting you into bed, pulling the blanket over your body.

He puts on a shirt for himself and the settling next to, immediately pulling you into his arms. “Shouldn’t have been so rough with you.” He mumbles.

“It’s okay, seriously.” You promise.

“I’ll watch out better, love you incredibly much.” He holds you closer.

“You’re perfect.” You lift your head, kissing his lips, feeling his mustache tickling the area under your nose.

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #the 1975 fic #matty healy smut #matty healy fluff #matty healy imagine #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader

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nina-renmen · 1 day

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Bloodied Love

Yandere Homelander x supe reader pt.1

Summary: He never expected to have a soulmate. His mark was never there, so what happens once it appears where you touched him? A girl like you, not even human. You fed off of his kind, but that dosn’t deter him from the horrors he has planned. You deprived him of your love, and now he won’t let go of you…even if he has to kill you.

Warnings: This is a Yandere fic so there will be blood, gore, ect. There will be nsfw themes and scenes in here as well as drugging and other things. Reader is not a human but she’s a water and air spirit called a Nokken. Reader has a hatred for humans

A mysterious dark figure has yet again saved the city once more. Could this be a new hero on the rise? Stay tuned for more-“

A [skin color] hand pressed the big red button on the dainty remote. Though her strength was controlled she almost crushed it. “Looks like someone’s getting famous.” Y/n looked away from the black screen and towards her friend. Her milky white eyes began shifting back into their natural [eye color] shade. “I guess.” Y/n mumbled. Her sharp claws slowly retracting. Almost like bear claws. “Dosn’t really matter when we have hero’s killing innocent civilians.” Y/n stated, standing up she towered over her friend, “You know Ivan…I’m not even sure if this hero thing is what I want.”

The shorter male who at the time was drinking a glass of wine had choked on the bitter substance. His black soulmate mark seemed to jump as he shifted quickly. The dark red liquid running down his chin as he scrambled to wipe it away. “What?! How come?” Ivan asked, his honey brown eyes widened. “It’s not because of that accident right?! Because if that’s it you should know that it’s not knew-“

“Thats the problem…I-“ Y/n paused as her radio began to go off. Signaling an attack. Ivan tilted his head towards the door as he looked down at y/n’s outfit. “You’re still in your suit. Best get going.” He said in a fatherly tone. Y/n smile but scoffed in order to cover it up. She walked out the front door. Her body taking her towards the site immediately.

She could still feel his blood on her. The blood of her comrades she worked with, the blood of Ivan. The gaze of his blood still lingered in his mouth. There was nothing left, only his half eaten head that lie in the ground. A horrified expression laid on his dead face. She didn’t feel that urge anymore. That burning sensation that told her to eat, eat, eat.

She knew she didn’t want to. He gave her no choice!! He was out for her blood! He was out for her abilities! She was just big game to him. A long cat and mouse game that she was oblivious to playing. A bounty on her head! He only wanted the money, he was like all the other rotten humans in this world! All the dirty, disgusting, vermin-

A single drop was able to knock her from her thoughts. And then the camera flashing began as she stood at the foot of the plane. American press were taking pictures of her. Fans screamed her name, but y/n’s smile had not reached her eyes. For she held no pleasure in standing before these people. Her mother country, Brazil had sent their number one hero to help America. A oncoming agreement came from the two countries and a treaty was made. America gives them resources and money and they gave up…..her. But that did not mean she would abandon her past. Even if she were to live here for a few years before going back home.

“[Hero Name]! How does it feel to be on American soil?!” One of the interviewers asked, shoving their mics in her face. They don’t really care, they wanted the money. They all only wanted money.

Y/n’s eyes trailed down to meet the woman’s eyes. A flash of nervousness appeared within her irises. Her green eyes meeting y/n’s milky white ones. Y/n tilted her head to the side, examining if she even wanted to speak with the woman. “It feels just like home.” Y/n finally spoke up, flashing a polite smile towards the smaller woman. She stood at a tall height of 5’8, her form taller than most women she knew, and yet smaller than most men.

“[hero name]! Can you describe your powers of being a Nokken?!” Another reporter questioned. Y/n’s hand twitched but no one batted an eye. They probably didn’t even notice. “A magician never reveals her tricks.” Y/n said in a happy tone. That same eye catching smile was forever carved in her face. And yet again her eyes did not match. But of course no human cared. Humans were easily deceived, they were easily eaten-

‘Dont think like that.’ Y/n thought to herself. And almost immediately the attention was finally directed off of her. “It’s homelander!” A random person states the obvious. Y/n attempted to slink away but a strong arm wrapped around her shoulder. “Thank you for the love! But I wanted to welcome in the new hero everyone’s been raving about!” The blue eyed man exclaimed. Y/n made no attempt to look up at him, for she knew that if she did she might as well be provoked to hit him. And she doubted that would do anything. “Smile.” Homelander whispered but the muscles in y/n’s face remained locked in. A neutral expression on her face as she made eye contact with reporters. She wouldn’t be a fraud like the man above her was.

“Thank you for the warm welcome but I best be going homelander. Maybe we’ll cross paths again.” Y/n says loud enough for the reporters to hear as y/n smiles and begins to be escorted out of the airport.

The cool air hit her. Rain drops fell from the sky, turning her once [skin color] skin into a sickly grey. Her hair turning into an inky black color. She was not only a water based supe but an air one as well. The combination brought on many fans and onlookers that wished to be her. Or dispise her.

“You left in a hurry.” That same familiar voice echoed throughout the empty streets. People were off the roads due to the storm. Y/n looked over her shoulder, this time her milky white eyes meeting his bright blue ones. “Was I supposed to linger?” Y/n questioned, turning her body towards him. She stood tall, her form didn’t look weak.

“Not necessarily, just….unusual.” He replied. “Usually supes stick around to talk to the number one hero in the world.”

“In America.” Y/n replied, slightly cutting him off.

“Pardon?” He questioned. The smile on his face was fake. It didn’t reach his eyes, it looked like a mask. A horrible one at that.

“You are the number one hero in America. Who’s to say the world when you haven’t even stepped out of it before?” Y/n questioned. Homelander gave y/n an annoyed look. “Anyway Mr retriever, I best get going.”

”Mr retriever?” Homelands questioned, he took off one of his gloves in order to get the water out of it.

“You look like one.” Y/n spoke as she patted his arm whilst walking past him. Homelandee furrowed his eyebrows. Who does this girl think she is? He’s number one-

The blonde haired male could feel a burning sensation on his forearm. He glanced down, not thinking it’d be anything only for his eyes go linger the name, y/n l/n was imbedded into his arm. His eyebrows furrowed, whose name was this? As realization began to sink in that this was his soulmates name…where ever she was he’d find her.

#x reader #fem reader #yandere #yandere x reader #homelander x reader #homelander x y/n #homelander x fem!reader #Yandere homelander x fem reader #Yandere homelander #Yandere x fem reader #the boys tv #the boys x reader #yandere the boys x reader

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ziezii · 2 days

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Zutara Month 2024 ; Scarf

first half of this is entirely inspired by the famous scarf scene from natla! are we surprised even 😂 happy reading everyone!

Zuko opened his eyes, fully expecting himself to be in his bedroom. Only that, he was not.

He looked around, trying to make sense of where he actually was. People chattering amongst themselves, sellers offering their baked and raw goods, large carts being pushed with an assortment of different fruits and vegetables. Zuko figured he's at some sort of marketplace.

He then realized that his scarred eye was covered, a long gray piece of cloth wrapped around his head. Not dwelling on that much further, his uncovered eye scanned around the busy marketplace, almost bumping into people who were walking right in front of him.

“Watch where you’re going kid!” one shouts, Zuko muttering a small ‘sorry.’ and continued walking. After what seemed to be a few minutes, he looked straight forward and found himself staring.

There was a girl, standing not that far from him. She seemed to look confused, well that’s how Zuko felt like she was feeling. The scarf wrapped around her neck and shoulders doesn’t hide away from the blue dress she was wearing. She looked, pretty.

Zuko immediately shook his head. Why was he thinking that? He didn’t even know what she looked like. His focus shifted to the point where he almost didn’t see that the girl in front of him was walking to where he stood.

Her shoulder bumped into his left arm, causing him to lose his footing for a small second. The tail-end of her scarf flew upwards as the wind blew, Zuko’s hand shot-up as his fingers grazed through the soft blue fabric as she walked away, his uncovered eye looking to where she was going.

Just as he was about to follow her, a large stand of cabbages was pushed towards his direction. The merchant didn’t seem to realize that there was someone in front of him because his eyes were focused on somewhere else, so imagine his surprise when he heard a grunt and his cabbages all falling on the floor.

The last thing he heard before closing his eyes was a cry from the said merchant, “My, my cabbages!”

…

Zuko shot-up from his bed, eyes opened. He looked down and saw that he was back wearing his pajamas, well more like his red unwashed shirt with his pair of black sweatpants. He then looked around, he’s back in his bedroom.

He sighed, brushing off what that dream was about and grabbed his phone. The 20+ notifications from Suki and his Uncle asking him where he was immediately made jump out of bed.

“Shit!” he was late, well almost since the tea shop opens in about 30 minutes. Still, he knew Suki would tease the heck about him being late since he’s notoriously famous for being the ‘never late.’ coworker.

Note to self, if your dream starts looking way too good, maybe that’s the time you should wake up.

Forgetting to lock his apartment door, his motorcycle almost getting dented, safe to say that Zuko’s day is going great. He ran to the back doors of his uncle’s tea shop, seeing Suki all dressed with her apron and name-tag eating a sandwich.

He stopped almost in front, panting as he asked, “Am I late?”

Suki looked at her phone, “Nope, almost though.” she said with a knowing smile. Zuko groaned, sitting next to her.

“Before I tease the hell out of you,” she continued, “why were you late?”

He contemplated on telling her, but might as well as he needed to let it off his chest, “Had a dream.”

Suki only looked at him weirdly, “Okay, what kind of dream? You’re not someone who gets distracted, even in your sleep.”

Zuko sighed, he tells her what happened in that dream. Suki listened intently, nodding to show him she was listening.

After telling her, Suki just said, “You never had any sort of dream of her prior?” and he shook his head.

“Well, what if it’s a sign?”

He rolled his eyes at her reply, “What sign? I just so happen to be curious about a girl who appeared in my dreams?”

“Your uncle would certainly say it’s a sign, you never get dreams.”

“Maybe because I don’t tell you guys?”

“If you tell us about this one, then maybe this is your first time dreaming.” she shot back at him, smirking a little. He once again rolled his eyes, he forgot how Suki is a whole hard believer in getting any signs in the form of dreams or visions.

“I don’t think so, I highly doubt it.” Suki just shrugged, by then the two stood up and walked back inside to finally start their shift.

“Chan, one jasmine and ginseng tea! Oh, and one cheesecake.” their shift went on as per usual. Zuko was mainly in charge at the dining room, serving and assisting their customers.

Suki too, grabbing their orders up and bringing them to the customers. As Zuko walked to the back of the cashier where his Uncle was sitting, Suki walked and sat next to him.

“Oh! Uncle, you wouldn't believe what Zuko told me.” Zuko immediately threw a death glare at her, but she persisted, “Zuko dreamed about a girl.”

He knew his Uncle was just as adamant as her when it came to his social (well, more-so his love) life so he wasn't surprised when Iroh clapped his hands in pure joy.

Zuko tsk-ed, “Uncle, don't-”

“Why don't my nephew? This is wonderful news!”

“I don't even know what she looks like.”

Iroh smirked, “Well, there must be something that stuck out to you in that dream of yours about her.”

Damn it, Zuko thought.

“So, what was it?” Suki was enjoying the show, also curious since he didn't tell her about this.

He looked back and forth from his Uncle's expectant face to Suki, who grinned his way.

There was no getting out of this, huh.

With a loud sigh, he then muttered, “She was-” but immediately stopped himself when he saw that they had new customers coming in. Not wanting to engage in this conversation any longer, he stood up and walked away from the two.

Iroh laughed, “He never changes.” which Suki nodded and laughed as well.

He grabbed his notepad from his apron's front pocket as their two new customers sat down. Zuko pulled up his small smile as he looked up and asked, “Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon, what can I-”

He stopped. No, it can't be. The scarf. Her scarf.

Noticing the confused looks on him, Zuko shook his head and continued his words, writing down their orders and walking away as he sighed in relief.

He didn't realize he was holding his breath, walking towards the register to type in their orders.

“So, is she the one?”

“Shut up.” Zuko immediately answered, a faint blush on his cheeks giving off his blatant lie.

Suki only laughed, looking over her shoulder to eye on the customer sitting right next to Zuko's dream girl.

Literally.

“Well, you're not the only one eyeing on someone from that table.” Zuko looked at her with a mix of confusion and disgust as he realized what she meant.

“Go talk to her.”

Zuko froze, eyes wide as he looked at her.

“Are you insane?”

“Why not?” she shrugged, “You'll surprise yourself if-”

“Uh, excuse me?”

Two turned around and were greeted by her. The person they were talking about.

Zuko held his breath. After his failed attempts at glancing or keeping eye contact on her when he took their orders, he realizes that this is the first time he's fully seen her.

And damn, was she beautiful.

The scarf wrapped around her neck, her long brown hair let down. Two smaller sections of her front hair pulled back to her hair bun. Zuko knows jack-shit about hair.

Her skin just glows under the orange lighting of the tea shop. He gulped, his eyes darting elsewhere when he realized he'd been staring.

“-And this is Zuko.” he's brought back when he hears Suki. Seeing that Katara was now looking at him, he could only stammer his introduction.

“I, uh,” he gulped, the girl looking at him with this sort of fondness only made it worse, “Hi?”

He groaned, while the two girls just laughed at him.

“Suki, this one's for table 10!”

“Well, looks like this is my queue to leave,” Suki says, patting Zuko's tense shoulder, “If you need anything about your order, Zuko will handle it.”

He was about to protest, but to no avail as Suki already walked away from them. Zuko let out a sigh, before his eyes fell on her once again.

“I'm so sorry, do you, uh, want to add something to your order?” he says a little too fast, but that doesn't stop him from stuttering it all out.

“You're funny.” she chuckled, “Not really for me, but my brother over there wanted to get the cheesecake.”

“No problem, I'll go put that in,” he trails off his words, wanting to continue on what he was saying before she beat him into it.

“Katara.” her smile made him warm, she did know what he wanted to say.

"Alright, Katara." he answers, subconsciously smiling back.

She was about to walk away before Zuko held her arm and stopped her. She turned around, her eyes locked to him.

“I,” Zuko doesn't understand how he gets so nervous when he's talking to her, “your scarf is very, pretty.”

Katara's eyes widen slightly, before she smiles once again and replies, “Thank you, Zuko.”

#zutara #katara x zuko #zuko x katara #zutara month 2024 #zutara month #day 15 #scarf

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weemssapphic · 6 hours

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Lipstick Stains - Pt. 21

previous chapter | next chapter | series page

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

chapter summary: Larissa makes good on a promise, and our dear reader gets a call from their mom. (smut - minors DNI!)

words: ~ 5.2k | ao3 link in title

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The smell of coffee hit your nose the moment you woke up, before you even had a chance to open your eyes. Turning away from the bright light filtering in through the curtains with a groan, you reached blindly out to your side - the bed was empty but there was still a warm dent beside you and it made your lips curl into a smile. You could hear Larissa rummaging around in the kitchen and, immediately feeling an intense longing to be beside her, you pushed back the covers to slip out of bed and join her.

Your breath was all but stolen from your lungs as you stopped in the doorway to admire her. She’d slipped a silk dressing gown in a bright, ruby red over her nightgown, messy platinum waves cascading down her back as she rummaged around in the cupboard (a cupboard which you would’ve needed a stool to reach), pushing aside different mugs until she found two she liked.

Turning towards the coffee machine, it took her a moment to notice your presence in the doorway - her brow was furrowed in concentration as she set the mugs down on the counter, and it was only when you shifted your weight from one foot to another that Larissa’s eyes darted in your direction, widening as she jumped slightly.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” you said softly, your lips curling into a teasing grin. Larissa shook her head, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks.

“I thought you were still sleeping, you were dead to the world when I got out of bed…”

“Can’t sleep when you’re not there,” you countered playfully, pushing yourself off the doorframe and coming up behind Larissa to wrap your arms around her waist, resting your cheek against her back. A pleased hum left her lips, vibrating against your cheek as she finished making coffee.

“I wanted to treat you to breakfast, since I couldn’t cook for you last night.”

“Breakfast sounds amazing, I’m starving…”

Larissa spun around in your arms, holding your mug in one hand - as you lifted your arm to grab it, she held it just out of reach, gently gripping your chin with her other hand. “Kiss first,” she whispered huskily, her eyes dancing playfully between your own.

It was your turn to blush and you pushed yourself up on your toes, steadying yourself by holding Larissa’s waist as your lips met hers in a soft, tender kiss. You could feel her smile as the two of you melted together, the world around you briefly falling away as the breath was stolen from your lungs.

“Good girl.” Larissa smirked as she pulled back, handing you your coffee as you felt your body flood with heat with just those two words. She reached behind herself for her own mug, taking a sip before kissing your forehead and gently pulling herself from your grasp to head to the fridge.

“I’m not really hungry anymore,” you mumbled, still rooted to the spot.

Larissa laughed, glancing over her shoulder and grinning when she saw your flushed cheeks. “I know you are hungry, and we will eat.” She seemed to be in an exceptional mood this morning, and you weren’t sure if it was your conversation the previous night or something else entirely but you sure as hell weren’t going to complain. You hopped up onto the counter, sipping your coffee and watching Larissa crack eggs into a pan as you tried to ignore the subtle throb between your legs.

“Someone’s in a good mood this morning,” you teased. Even from behind, unable to see her face, you knew she was blushing.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” You could hear a hint of shyness in her tone - it made you feel you could melt straight into the counter.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

Larissa peeked over her shoulder again - her cheeks were indeed tinged pink and, with the way the light was hitting them, her eyes were bluer than ever, sparkling like the ocean in the heat of the summer sun. “Can’t I just be happy?”

“Of course you can be happy.” You smirked at her, taking a sip of your coffee and crossing your legs. “I just want to know why you’re so happy.”

With a roll of her eyes, Larissa turned the heat down on the stove before making her way over to you. “You really have no idea?” she whispered playfully, her lips inching towards yours.

“Hmm…” Cocking your head in mock-thought, your grin widened. “Nope, not a clue. You may have to spell it out for me.”

What you received in return was the raising of a thin, blonde eyebrow and a sound somewhere between a sigh, a giggle, and a snort, Larissa’s breath warm on your lips. “Playing dumb won’t work on me,” she husked, brushing her lips teasingly against your own as her eyes fluttered shut. She tugged your bottom lip between her teeth, slowly dragging it out before allowing it to snap back into place.

“Careful, you wouldn’t want to burn the eggs…” you warned teasingly, your voice coming out breathier than intended.

Larissa sighed against your lips, swallowing visibly. “You little minx…”

“What are you gonna do, punish me?”

The shapeshifter’s eyes snapped open, meeting yours, her pupils visibly dilating as her lips parted. She stepped even closer, as close as the edge of the counter would allow, as if drawn by a magnetic force. Blonde eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks and her breaths grew shallow as her eyes searched your own and her hands landed on the tops of your thighs.

“Riss…” You nodded reluctantly in the direction of the stove, successfully getting Larissa to tear her eyes away from you.

“You certainly don’t play fair.” Larissa’s voice was breathy and loaded with desire as she headed back to the stove, picking up the spatula to push the eggs around in the pan as her free hand crept up the back of her neck.

You rolled your eyes, squeezing your thighs together to relieve some of the tension of your rapidly growing arousal. “You’re the one who doesn’t play fair - you started it! If it weren’t for you we could be in bed right this very second…”

“I wanted to treat you.” You could hear the playful pout in Larissa’s voice, and the sentiment made your body fill with warmth.

“I could think of another way you could treat me,” you countered suggestively, unable to hide your growing smirk as you watched Larissa stand unmoving in front of the stove, clearly weighing her options.

Having made up her mind, she opened a cabinet above the stove and pulled out some tupperware, lifting the pan and starting to scrape the eggs into it. You slipped off the counter, crossing the kitchen and grabbing Larissa’s hips from behind, causing her to jump and drop the spatula. You giggled, pressing yourself flush against her back as your hands came around to the front of her waist and tugged at the tie of her dressing gown, immediately slipping beneath the fabric and causing Larissa to squirm.

“A little impatient, aren’t we…” she mumbled breathlessly, subconsciously leaning into your touch as she finished putting away the half-cooked food.

“So? Don’t tell me you mind?”

Finished with her task, Larissa spun around in your arms, gazing down at you with a look of pure, unadulterated desire. “Not at all… though I am beginning to think you deserve to be put in your place…” Larissa was quickly regaining the upper hand as she placed her hands on your shoulders, slowly sliding them up your neck and into your hair as she took a step forward, then another, forcing you backwards across the kitchen until your lower back hit the edge of the counter.

Your breathing was quickly becoming shallow and you swallowed thickly as your eyes danced between Larissa’s own, your dominance fading in the face of Larissa’s. Her hands dropped from your shoulders to the countertop on either side of you, pinning you against the cold marble - a shiver ran down your spine that had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the hunger in Larissa’s dilating pupils.

She leaned down, her lips inching towards yours until they were a mere hair’s breadth away from your own, her warm breath just as shallow as yours. Your eyes fluttered shut, every hair on your body standing on end in anticipation as the air grew thick around you - Larissa was going to get her revenge for your earlier teasing, that much was clear.

Finally - mercifully - her lips brushed against your own - softly at first, a barely-there touch that had you whimpering in need - then harder and more insistent, her tongue licking at the seam of your lips, which you instantly parted. She licked into your mouth with a pleased hum, her tongue finding yours and brushing against it in a sensual manner that was uniquely Larissa, as she simultaneously pressed her torso flush against your own with a drawn-out moan.

“Ris-sa,” you panted into the kiss, your clit already throbbing and your underwear ruined. “P-please…”

“I thought you wanted to be punished, darling… Do you think you have a say in how I do so?” she husked as she pulled away from the kiss, trailing her lips along your jaw towards your ear and nipping at your earlobe, drawing a mixture of a whine and a squeal from your throat.

When you didn’t answer her, Larissa drew back for a moment, her gaze meeting your own. “Do you trust me?” she asked, her voice earnest. You nodded and Larissa quirked an eyebrow, your face turning red.

“I trust you with my life,” you whispered, your voice more hoarse than you’d expected it to be.

“Let’s not let it come to that,” Larissa teased with a playful grin, drawing a giggle from your throat that brought a faint blush to the apples of Larissa’s cheeks. “Can you be a good girl for me?”

You nodded, your blush deepening as you quickly followed up with a “yes, Larissa” that brought a satisfied smile to the blonde’s face. She leaned in, allowing her lips to, once again, hover inches away from your own - before drawing back, a smirk on her lips as she took a step away from you. “Follow me to the bedroom,” she husked, before leading you out of the kitchen - you scrambled after her, your stomach doing a somersault as you wondered what exactly Larissa had in store for you.

“On your back.” Larissa stood at the foot of the bed, gesturing for you to climb in - you did as told, a tingle running down your spine as you settled on your back and looked up at Larissa towering over you, her shoulders drawn back as she watched you with hooded eyes. Her long, nimble fingers gripped the front of her dressing gown, running along the soft, delicate silk before allowing it to slip off her shoulders and pool at her feet. She gave her nightgown the same treatment - practically feeling herself up in the silky garment before slipping it over her head and dropping it to the floor, followed by her underwear.

The sight of Larissa naked before you, her pale, silken skin almost glowing in the bright morning light of the bedroom, her curled tresses like a halo around her, made you dizzy with desire, and you started to fist at the sheets beneath yourself in a desperate attempt to be good, to not reach out and touch her.

Your squirming was like a drug to Larissa - your flushed cheeks and blown pupils, the way your thighs were clenching together, seemingly of their own accord. Larissa crawled over you until she was straddling your hips, slipping her hands beneath your t-shirt and pushing it up, causing goosebumps to rise on your abdomen. She lowered her lips to your stomach, peppering featherlight kisses along every inch of your skin until you were writhing and moaning beneath her - she looked up at you through pale lashes, smirking against your skin, before pushing the shirt up the rest of the way and allowing you to help tug it off your body.

Your trousers came next, Larissa hooking her fingers beneath the waistband and taking your underwear right along with them, her fingertips lingering on your legs as she peeled the clothing off your body. Resuming her previous position, she lowered her mouth to your chest, pressing a line of kisses down your sternum, then nipping and sucking at the flesh of your right breast, leaving a little bruise right next to your nipple. She sucked the little pink bud into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it with a pleased hum.

“Rissss… p-please,” you moaned, your hands flying to her hair to try and push her down to where you needed her most - a mistake. Larissa instantly released your nipple and sat up, your hands falling away from her hair. She cocked an eyebrow as she stared down at you, her eyes darkening.

“Did I say you could touch me?” she husked, her words bringing a faint blush to your cheeks.

“N-no, s-sorry…”

“Am I going to have to tie you up?” Larissa watched as your blush darkened and your mouth dropped open, the breath all but stolen from your lungs at the mere thought as your eyes darted between Larissa’s own, bringing a smirk to her lips. “Is that something my darling girl would want?”

You took a moment to think on it, with Larissa waiting patiently and carefully watching your face. You’d never been tied up before, but the thought did intrigue you - and if you were to trust anyone with something like that, it would be Larissa. “I-I think so…”

“You think so?” Larissa probed, her expression shifting to something more neutral and less seductive, her hands coming to rest on your waist. “Darling, I’d only do it if it’s something you’re comfortable with. You don’t have to say yes to everything I suggest.”

There was a caring softness in her gaze now, and her shift in demeanor did wonders to clear your mind just a little. “I want you to tie me up,” you said, a little more firmly this time - Larissa offered you a grateful smile.

“Wait here for me then?” You nodded and Larissa pushed herself off the bed, heading towards her closet and emerging moments later with a pair of silk ties in a deep burgundy color. She settled on the bed next to you, placing down the ties for a moment as she took hold of your wrists and raised your arms above your head. “Tell me if it gets uncomfortable, alright?”

She began to tie your wrists to the slots in the headboard, her fingertips brushing tenderly against your skin. “Tug for me,” she instructed, and you did as told. “How do they feel? They should restrict your movement but it shouldn’t hurt.”

You gave another tug. “The right one is a bit tight…”

Larissa adjusted again, and again instructed you to tug. “Perfect,” you whispered.

Larissa rewarded you with a kiss to the lips, before once again straddling your body. “Can you pick a safeword for me?”

You’d never had to have a safeword before, and the idea of choosing one brought a blush to your cheeks. “Can it just be ‘stop’?”

Larissa smiled, leaning down until her lips met your sternum once again. “‘Stop’ it is,” she husked, pressing a kiss to your skin before finding your nipple and gently sucking. The urge to hold her hair was growing within you by the second, so much so that you’d already begun to tug at the restraints, drawing a chuckle from Larissa’s throat as she noticed your squirming.

“Frustrating, isn’t it?” she teased, her voice muffled by your breast as she flicked her tongue across your hardening nipple. “You want so badly to touch me, yet you can’t. You’re completely at my mercy…”

Her words drew a needy whine from your throat, shooting straight to your core - you could feel a bit of your arousal wet your thighs and, with your arms entirely out of commission, all you could do was squirm and hope Larissa would take mercy on you.

Larissa, however, had other plans, an idea forming in her mind as she felt you tremble with need beneath her, and she released your breast from her mouth as she sat back on your hips, rubbing her hands teasingly along your waist.

“Darling, can I ask you to wait here for just a moment? I’ll be quick.”

Though the thought of Larissa leaving nearly made you want to cry in frustration, your curiosity was piqued, and you mumbled out an “okay”, watching her leave the room entirely. You listened intently for her footsteps and thought she was heading for the kitchen, but then there was a sort of faint crashing sound that you couldn’t place - it made your stomach flip with anticipation and nerves.

True to her word, she was back in the room in a flash, hiding something behind her back - even craning your neck, you couldn’t identify it, and she knelt at the foot of the bed to place it down and took her place next to you again.

“Darling…” she started, reaching over to the nightstand and pulling something out of the drawer. “Would you mind if I blindfolded you and tried something different?” The thing she’d pulled out of the drawer was a blindfold matching the silk ties, and it dangled tantalizingly on her index finger as she waited for a reply.

Your stomach filled with butterflies - you had no idea what Larissa had in store but you trusted her not to hurt you, and you trusted her to stop if you didn’t like what she was doing. “I wouldn’t mind…” You allowed her to tie the blindfold securely over your eyes. You felt her lips, soft and warm, press against your forehead, and then you felt her get off the bed for a moment.

The bed dipped again, somewhere near your calves, and from the way the mattress moved and Larissa’s knee brushed against your thigh, you could tell she was straddling you again, hovering over you. Your entire body was alight with anticipation, every hair on your body on end as a visible shiver ran down your spine, every second where Larissa didn’t say or do anything pure torture.

“Tell me to stop if it doesn’t feel good, darling,” she finally husked. “It may get cold…”

Before your brain had time to catch up and you could ask what she meant by that, you felt a tingling cold against your stomach, trailing a straight line down towards your navel.

“S- ahh-” The first second was uncomfortable, but you found yourself getting used to the sensation quickly, the ice already melting against your skin, which was boiling with need.

“Stop?” Larissa asked, and you quickly breathed out a ‘no’ - if you’d have been able to see Larissa’s face, you’d have seen her satisfied smirk and the way she bit her lower lip before removing the ice cube from your skin and flattening her warm tongue against your abdomen, licking up the water that had pooled there. The sensation made you arch your back against her face, simultaneously squeezing your thighs together as your wrists pulled at the restraints, more out of a need for more stimulation than a conscious decision.

Then the sensation was back, this time on your left nipple - your entire body seemed to twitch, your nipple hardening instantly at the biting, almost painful cold pressed against it. You drew in a sharp breath, squeezing your eyes shut tightly beneath the blindfold - your body didn’t seem to know how to react, as you simultaneously arched your back as if to get more, whilst also squirming as if to get away.

A rumbling groan was pulled from your chest as your right nipple was suddenly enveloped in warmth - the loud sound surprised you, and it took you a moment to realize that the warmth was Larissa’s mouth, her tongue playfully flicking against the slowly hardening bud as her lips, warm and wet, sucked gently.

Larissa managed to coax moan after moan from your throat as she switched breasts, teasing you with the freezing ice cubes and her warm mouth - she seemed to enjoy playing with you, taking her time as soft noises of pleasure escaped her lips, vibrating against your nipple. It felt like pure torture, your cunt aching and your clit throbbing, your entire body buzzing with an intense need to be touched, your arms practically itching to reach out and touch Larissa in any way you could.

“R-riss-ah- … p-please,” you whined, feeling tears begin to pool at the inner corners of your eyes as you bucked your hips up. The movement jostled Larissa a bit, her bare cunt bumping into your thigh, making her moan - it was then that you noticed how wet she was, her slick spreading across your burning skin and causing you to whimper. “P-please, need y-you…”

You could feel Larissa smirk against your breast, releasing your nipple with a pop and removing the ice cube from your other nipple. Everything was still for a moment, then you felt Larissa pull back from your body and shift her weight on the mattress.

“Spread your legs for me, darling,” she purred - you immediately did as asked, apparently in such an eager manner that it made Larissa chuckle, causing your cheeks to burn in embarrassment. From the movement of the mattress and Larissa’s palms landing on your thighs to push them even farther apart, you could tell she was now settled between your legs.

There was another moment’s silence where the world seemed to stand still, your body trembling in anticipation - then the mattress shifted again and Larissa’s arms wrapped around your thighs, tugging you slightly closer and causing your wrists to burn a bit as the restraints were pulled taut.

You began to moan as Larissa’s mouth made contact with your pussy, the moan dying in your throat as the air was stolen from your lungs. Her mouth was ice cold, her tongue absolutely freezing as it dragged up your slit towards your clit. The tip of her tongue pushed against your clit and your brain short-circuited, a strangled sound coming from your throat as your thighs snapped shut around her head and your wrists tugged at your restraints.

Your arms were starting to burn and your wrists were starting to ache, and it was as if each and every sense was heightened with the absence of your sight - you could acutely hear the wet noises coming from Larissa’s tongue against your pussy, and each ever so slight ministration against your cunt drove you delirious with arousal. Your throat was hoarse from moaning and crying out Larissa’s name, and your cheeks were slightly wet with some tears that had escaped.

You barely noticed when one of Larissa’s arms left your thigh - you were so focused on the contrast between temperatures against your sex, on the ever-tightening coil behind your navel as Larissa’s tongue worked tirelessly to bring you pleasure.

With the way Larissa was moaning into your pussy, you could tell she was touching herself - the thought made you feeling absolutely delirious, pushing you even closer to the edge. “Ffffuck, Rissss…” you moaned, the coil behind your navel seconds away from snapping.

Another flick of Larissa’s tongue saw your orgasm crashing over you like a wave - you squeezed your eyes shut behind the blindfold, your eyebrows scrunching together as your jaw fell slack. A deep, broken moan vibrated from your chest, and you could tell Larissa was close, too, by the way the pace of her tongue became erratic.

“Mmmh - fuck-” she groaned against your cunt, briefly pulling away as her own orgasm hit her - then going back in with her tongue, sloppier than before as she lapped up your juices.

As your orgasm began to fade, the burning in your arms and shoulders became more prominent - Larissa must have noticed the way you were shifting uncomfortably, tensing and untensing your arms, and you felt her pull away from your cunt and shift her weight on the bed.

“Relax your arms, darling, I’ve got you,” she cooed as her fingers swiftly untied the tie on your right wrist, then your left, pressing her lips to each wrist as she untied it. She held your wrists and guided your arms slowly back down to your sides. “It’ll stop burning in a minute…”

She untied the blindfold next, tossing it aside as she scanned your face for signs of discomfort - you blinked your eyes open, her face blurred at first. When your vision sharpened and adjusted to the light, you could see the softness and care in Larissa’s gaze and it melted your heart, and you immediately reached your arms out to pull her close, wincing as the sudden movement emphasized the ache in your muscles.

Chuckling, Larissa leant down to kiss you, cupping your cheek and soothing her thumb over your jaw. “I love you,” she whispered against your lips. “You did so well, I’m so proud of you.”

Her words brought a blush to your cheeks and you whimpered into the kiss. “I love you, too…”

Pulling away from you and settling back against the pillows, Larissa scooped you up in her arms and encouraged you to rest your cheek against her chest. With your body half on top of hers, she reached out to pull the sheets over both of your bodies, cocooning you both in warmth as she started to gently rub your biceps and shoulders, easing the burn from having your arms over your head for so long.

You took a deep breath in through your nose and allowed yourself to be enveloped by Larissa’s scent. The base notes of her perfume from the previous day clung to her skin; sandalwood, vetiver, cedar - earthy compared to the floral top notes that had since vanished; the faint scent of sweat, overpowered by the arousal and sex that hung heavy in the air; her conditioner (clean, light) as her silky waves tickled your bare skin. It was a mixture of scents that evoked a deep sense of calm and belonging within you - a feeling that could only be described as home.

“Are you alright?” Larissa whispered softly.

“Never been better,” you mumbled back, your lips pulling into a soft smile as your fingertips traced lazy patterns along her bare ribs. The peacefulness of the moment quickly lulled you into a light sleep - Larissa was all too happy to watch you doze off in her arms, until her eyelids, too, grew heavy, and the two of you spent the better part of the morning and early afternoon napping and holding one another.

~~~

“Call me when you’ve made it home safely,” Larissa insisted, her voice laced with worry as her brows knit together. She reached up to cup your cheek, her thumb gently stroking your jaw - you nuzzled gratefully into her touch, your heart fluttering at the obvious concern she showed for you. Now that you knew what the monster was, and that Larissa wasn’t keeping anything from you any longer, you could appreciate her care for you that much more.

“I will,” you promised, turning your head to press a kiss to the base of Larissa’s palm - her eyelids fluttered closed for a moment, the crease between her brows fading and the corners of her lips curling up into a small smile. “I love you, Riss.”

Larissa’s small smile grew wider and she leaned down, her fingers curling into your hair as she pressed her lips to yours. “I love you, too,” she whispered against your lips, before pulling back and pulling you into a brief but loving hug.

As you exited her office and made your way down the hall, you glanced down at your phone to reply to a text from Cassandra - nearly bumping into the red-headed teacher that you recognized from the funeral.

“Oh, sorry,” you said politely, side-stepping just in time to avoid knocking her into the wall.

“It’s alright, dear.” She smiled sweetly when you made eye contact with her - you smiled back, though your smile faltered when her hand came to rest on your shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. “Heading home?”

You raised an eyebrow at the attempt at small-talk, nodding as your hand tightened on the strap of your bag.

“Be careful out there, it’s getting dark and it really isn’t safe in the woods.” Her smile was sympathetic as she removed her hand from your shoulder to push her glasses farther up her nose.

“Oh. Yeah… thanks… I’d better get going then,” you said with a forced smile, nodding towards the stairs. She bid you farewell and your head turned to watch her head down the hall towards Larissa’s office, her red boots squeaking slightly against the tiled floors. With a weird pit in your stomach you shook your head and turned to head towards your car, eager to get home before nightfall.

~~~

As you entered your room and tossed your bag on the floor, your phone started to vibrate in your pocket. A glance at the screen told you it was your mom calling, and you answered the call and put your phone on speaker as you changed into sweats.

Your parents had decided they were going to visit friends in Montreal for the weekend, and were planning on stopping by on their way up - something which you happily agreed to as you flopped onto your stomach in bed.

“Maybe we could finally meet that girlfriend of yours,” your mom suggested, a hint of excitement in her tone. Your stomach dropped at the thought - there was a lot your parents didn’t know about Larissa, including her age, and you had no idea what they’d think of the substantial age gap.

“Uh…” You started to pick at a loose thread on your sheets, your mind going a mile a minute. “Sure, maybe, I’d have to ask Larissa if she’s even free…”

You secretly prayed she wouldn’t be.

“Oh come on, you’ve been to New York with her and yet we know nothing about this girl…”

Your mom referring to Larissa as a “girl” made your stomach churn, and you tugged at the loose thread a bit too hard, tearing a tiny hole in the sheet. “Don’t call her that,” you mumbled. “She’s not a girl, she’s a woman…”

“Fine,” your mom conceded with a chuckle - you could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “How old is she, anyway?”

You should’ve come out and said it - she’s 49, mom - but the words died on your tongue and you cleared your throat. “Older than me…”

That drew another chuckle from your mom, and she drew in a breath to respond when you heard your dad’s muffled voice in the background. “I have to go, sweetie… invite Larissa for dinner on Friday, we’d love to meet her!”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll let you know…” You stared at your phone’s blank screen long after hanging up, wondering what your parents would think of Larissa - and, more importantly, what Larissa would think of meeting your parents. You had to tell her soon - you just had no idea how.

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