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#probably needs a third at this point honestly
evergreenfields · 2 days
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Tea for Two
Part 2 of Yours Truly, A Hostage (Part 1).
After rescuing you in Piccadilly Circus, the Captain takes you up on your invite. Naturally you make tea, scones and sexual tension.
Pairing: Captain John Price x fem!reader
CW: explicit smut, piv sex, penetration, fingering, descriptions of a male body and female body (reader). MDNI.
Words: 3.5k
A/n: Let me know what you think! Also, I love how reader can afford to live on her own.
——
You honestly didn’t mean to be folded in half and speared so deliciously by John’s cock. It was only supposed to be tea and scones.
He arrived promptly, not giving you a chance to worry you had been ghosted.
You open the door to find him standing with his hands clasped at his front.
“Hello.” He says, it’s a rumble, heat fills you.
“Hi! Come in! Let me take your jacket.” You wave him into your tiny flat.
“Thanks, love.” You don’t watch as he shrugs it off. He’s wearing a green plaid shirt that hugs his broad chest. He looks different to yesterday, you thought he may look smaller as he wouldn’t be encumbered by all the gear and harnesses. But he was still huge, tall and broad. He’s not wearing a hat so you see his hair is neat and kind of side parted with a lot of grey. He’s in dark blue jeans and boots which probably added another 2 inches to his hulking frame.
“How did you know I love a tea party?” he marvels at the teacups while rolling up his sleeves revealing strong bulky forearms covered in dark hair.
“My third eye.” You point mysteriously between your eyebrows, trying to be nonchalant even though you feel flustered as he essentially started the foreplay by revealing his muscled forearms.
“What else does that third eye see?” He looks at you, it's strange how such icy blue eyes can show heat.
“It sees you behaving yourself.” You say with more gumption than you actually felt. You carry over the teapot and he waits to seat you. You can’t help but laugh awkwardly as he gently tucks your chair in.
“You didn’t have to do all this.” He says with mirth, the delicate teacup in his large hand was making you feel a certain way. You try not to stare.
“It’s a bit much.” You say quietly, “but so was yesterday.” Your thighs bounce up and down nervously. “How’s your friend, teammate, the younger guy, Gaz?”
“He’s alright, he sends his best,” Price didn’t want to reveal the full conversation they had when he told Gaz he got your phone number. Things like “but sir she’s closer to my age” and “no sir, she wasn’t complimenting my facial hair.”
“Oh bless him,” you say, touched.
“Are you okay? What you went through yesterday was no cake walk.” His brows knit together.
“It’s not really hit me yet, to be honest.” You admit, feeling conflicted because you were absolutely sidetracked with getting ready for a date with an SAS captain. You had left your statement at the police station earlier in the morning.
“If you need to talk, I’m here. And there’s no shame in speaking to a professional. A proper professional.” When he smiles, his lips disappear into his moustache and you find it was so endearing, smiling unintentionally along with him.
“Are you always like this with… rescued hostages?” You say earnestly, you’re not sure where you’re going with it.
“Definitely not.” He sits back, ramrod straight, “especially as you were so subtle.”
You feel mortified at how eager you were yesterday and it must show because he leans forward with a concerned hand out, as if to say ‘wait’.
“I’m glad you weren’t subtle,” he says quietly, “I was really taken by you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” It feels weird hearing something so vulnerable, it doesn’t feel real. You feel flushed.
“Are you okay?” You ask him, “I know it’s your job but… it must be such a weight on your shoulders.” You reach out without thinking and squeeze his hand, it’s hot while yours is cold.
“You’re sweet,” he whispers “I’ve been doing this a long time, love.” He turns his hand over and envelopes your fingers, you feel patches of rougher skin.
You nod feverishly “I’m sorry I - it’s another world. I just sit behind a desk.” You’re in uncharted territory, he operates in another world, a dangerous one, one that collided with yours yesterday.
“You don’t need to apologise, it’s an important desk.”
You’re not satisfied with that. Trying to find the right words, caressing circles with your thumb into his hand, you blurt out “you were really brave.” You speak through the embarrassment.
“I couldn’t see you but I could hear you.” Your heart rate climbs. “It was…” you breathe out “so decisive and final.” He squeezes your hand. “I knew I was safe.”
He smiles warmly and covers your small hand with his. You sit like this for a moment, in the moment. You were sure the events of the last 48 hours would dawn on you heavily but right now you felt grounded.
“You’re wondering what to do with your other hand now, aren’t you?” He chuckles, breaking the silence.
“Am I that readable?”
“You’re an open book.” He smiles warmly, crows feet etching into his skin.
You reach over and tentatively cup his cheek, his beard tickles your palm, your thumb caresses his cheekbones, he has bags under his eyes, you sense you were right about him carrying unspoken weight. “Am I?” Vulnerability seeps from your pores.
You breathe from your mouth and on your second intake, John has a hand on the back of your neck. His azure eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips. You didn’t realise how your hands got to his shoulders and on the back of his neck.
He pulls you in slowly and you engulf him, the band has snapped, the kiss is deep and forceful. He controls the pace which is deliberate and slow. He bleeds into you and you feel dizzy with the intensity. His mouth is molten on yours.
You both break away with a pant, the table shakes and the cutlery clinks.
“You alright, love?” Both of his hands are back on the table, palms down, unthreatening. His voice is no longer suggestive, but clipped. You search each other’s eyes.
“I’m good.” You nod frantically.
“We can go as far as you want, we can stop right here, you’re in charge alright?” Your heart and stomach flips.
“I-.” You laugh, shaking your head, all you can feel is the wetness growing in your knickers.
“Talk to me, love.” He flips his hands so his palms are facing up.
“I’m not usually like this.” You say, standing up, “but then yesterday wasn’t usual either.”
Pushing your chair back abruptly with a squeak, you climb into his lap and straddle him. You hear a quiet vibration from his throat, a delectable groan.
“If it makes you feel better, neither am I.” He feels just like you imagined but better, harder, expanses of muscle and a layer of mass. Your dress barely covers your ass as you seat yourself on his lap. His hands move along your waist and down to the swell of your hips. You can smell his cologne and see his eyelashes flutter again as his gaze roams over your chest and neck.
He looks up at you and you can’t look back, his gaze is too intense, you want the floor to swallow you up. You look up to your left, feeling goosebumps as he explores your exposed thighs. He presses them, sighing.
He kisses your neck. You feel tickled by his beard hairs and flexing thigh muscles. In response to his kiss, you do what any respectable woman would do on top of a man, you push against his hardening cock. The chair creaks as he bucks his hips up to meet yours, both of your heavy breathes filling the room.
When he hears the moan that tears from your throat, he is undone. He imagined what you sounded like while he got dressed for the date, and this didn’t hold a candle to it. With one swift motion he pushes his seat back and lifts you up. He squeezes your ass which causes your cunt to flutter and twitch, your knickers fall into your folds.
“My bedroom’s out there to the right.” You wrap your legs around him and you feel something hard.
“Fffuck!” You gasp and grind into him, unashamed.
“That’s my belt buckle.”
You whine in response.
“In time, in time.” he kneads your ass while minding your knees through the tight corridor. He gently lays you on the bed and pushes you into the mattress, manoeuvring so his growing manhood is against your throbbing cunt.
“This is a nice room.” He says seriously while only looking at your eyes and pushing his erection against the juncture of your spread legs, waiting for your reaction.
You gasp, “oh it’s big” and push back against him. His eyes roll and you feel emboldened at the sight of this burly man, a captain no less, lost in how your body feels. You reach up under his shirt to feel the mass of his pectorals, you’re electric with need. His bulky arms on either side of your head frame your vision.
“Darlin’ you are beautiful.” He unbuttons his shirt with one hand while still hovering over you. He likes the blush that falls across your features when he opens his shirt. He kisses you deeply before quickly taking the shirt off his shoulders, pecs flexing and skin shining with sweat. You catch that narrow waist and a happy trail of hair disappearing into his jeans which you resented were still on.
You didn’t realise you said “fuck” out loud again and his laugh hits you in your core.
“Your dress is really pretty, can I take it off?” John drawls, you nod and smile dumbly at his flattery, he’s clearly enjoying your fucked out brain working overtime.
You wriggle out from under the dress and let him pull it over your head. His hands claim your breasts in your lacy bra, fitting perfectly in his palms. You think you heard him groan “s’soft” before pressing his lips to yours.
“Did you wear this for me?” He pushes the lace to either side of your swollen breasts and sucks on your nipples. He teases them gently, pleased to feel they were hard and ready for him. The rough pads of his fingers give you much needed friction.
You look up at him doe eyed and then say “I did. Why are your jeans still on?” with a hard tug of his belt.
You see him laugh silently, shaking his head. He gets up from the bed. The loss of his weight makes you bounce up slightly. You pant and touch yourself, mewling at the ceiling.
A wry smile appears on his face as he bends to take off his boots, watching you intently as you draw circles on your clit through your knickers. He drops his boots next to your slippers, they are massive in comparison and you find yourself breathing in sharply.
Finally the zipper comes down and he shucks his jeans. You watch his bulge intently as he moves.
“Are those boxers regulation?” Your mouth is dry. He laughs and you feel that same flash of affirmation you felt when you first met.
“Are you always like this?” He doesn’t climb on top of you, instead he lays beside you and places his hand on top of yours, taking over the job of drawing circles into your bud. He then slides his middle finger down and up your wet slit, collecting your dew in your knickers.
“Definitely not.” You manage to say before you moan and shudder at his touch, you feel a tightening coil and the pleasure spreads through your body like shattered glass, instant and permanent. His fingers are deft and the movement precise.
“Y/n, you’re so wet.” John’s breathing is heavy against your cheek. You look at him as if to say something but when you meet his eyes, you’re speechless. Only a moan comes out and you snap your eyes shut as waves of electricity hit you. You don’t realise your hands are on your breasts.
“Tell me what you want.” He grits against your temple, hot and humid.
You open your mouth but you can only moan while he teases your clit with fleeting strokes.
“Tell me,” John slides your knickers to the side, eyes down at your glistening sex, “what you want, love.”
You arch your back and turn your face away from him, shy and overwhelmed. You really were in charge of the pace.
“I want you inside me.” Your voice muffled by the back of your hand.
His thick fingers followed the curve of your mound and down to the dip of your entrance. Slick with your juices, it doesn’t take much for his index and middle fingers to push through. John’s cock twitches at the sensation of your tight, hot cunt. You hear him take a sharp inhale.
“Tha’s it.” He begins pumping and you’re embarrassed to already feel an orgasm building. God he’s good at this you manage to think. His fingers curl up to your g-spot and you start to see specks of light behind your closed eyelids. John revels in the sounds of your wet pussy around his fingers and your moans. He adjusts himself, mindful of the undeniable tent in his boxers.
“John I’m- I’m- gonna!” You pant in time with his pumps. You can see his massive forearm and bicep moving between your smaller by comparison legs, his once parted hair now messy and his dark gaze on you - you’re pretty sure that’s why you came so suddenly.
“Oh god fuck!” You call out, the orgasm pulsing through you violently. Your stomach involuntarily convulses and you writhe, one hand knotted in the duvet and the other one clutching his free arm. John watches as you ride out the orgasm, the broken pants and small whines short circuit his brain.
“Fucking hell.” He breathes. You look up at him, neatly groomed beard, a strong dimpled chin and a smirk that could kill. He’s stroking his hand over your thigh and up to your stomach, his eyes are hooded.
“I’m not on birth control,” you say with a parched mouth. You roll over to a drawer and pull out protection. You tear one from the packet, you know it can be a deal breaker for men but it sorted the riff from the raff.
“I had no idea you wanted to have sex.” He says dryly, a prominent bulge in his boxers. You chuckle and slap him playfully in the chest, leaving the packet against him.
You trail your hand down his chest.
“It’s all yours.” He muttered as you pushed past his waistband to find his heavy cock. He breathed out with a guttural groan, calling you darling. You bite your lip and ignore the redness in your face, he’s well endowed and you’re almost afraid to see it. You remove your hands and pull at his waistband so his reddened cock springs out.
“Of course it’s huge.” You mewl, pulling back on his foreskin gently to reveal a pretty pink and leaking tip. John tenses at your needy touch, restraining himself.
You slink to the floor and manoeuvre yourself between his legs. John's heavy breathing fills the room. You reach behind your back and unhook your bra. You shuffle closer and the tip of John’s cock smears precum on your breast.
“Oh love, you already said thanks,” he laughs, bucking his hips so his cock is nestled in your cleavage. You press your breasts together around his manhood and bounce on your haunches. The Captain grunts, his hands pushing your hair out of your face. You stare at his engorged cock appearing and disappearing between your breasts.
Soon he gently pulls you toward him and peels your knickers off. He makes quick work of putting on the condom, you like that he does it in front of you.
“Let me take care of you now.” You climb onto him and rub your slit along his cock, coating it with your wetness.
“You’re perfect.” He groans in response, fingers digging into your hips. You grind faster and faster, moaning with abandon.
“Are you always such a gentleman?” You stutter, rolling your hips, your hands splayed across his muscled chest, your cunt quivering around nothing.
He laughs and flips you over, his arms on either side of you. You giggle in surprise and then choke out a groan when he pushes his cock against your core.
“Please fuck me” is all it takes for his resolve to crumble, on top of your supine and smooth body, smelling like flowers and white musk. You moan in unison when he pushes his tip against your core, his hips shifting closer and closer. Your pussy clenches around his girth.
“Oh god - is it all in?” You stutter, blood rushing to your face, your cunt pulsing at his sheer size.
“Just half way, love.” You hear the smirk. “I’ll slow down.” He pushes himself deeper tantalisingly slowly. You pant when his hips are flush with yours, eyes fluttering. You wonder how you looked stretched around him.
“You alright?” He checks.
When you nod, John sets a steady pace, pulling mostly out and then plunging back into your heat, down to the hilt.
“Oh god,” you shudder, hands gripping his shoulders. His stomach connects flatly with your clit.
“You like that?” His voice distorted with the movement.
“Yes! Yes!” He speeds up and your world is a flurry of motion. His thrusts are fast and sharp and they push you into the mattress.
You feebly try to bring your legs up onto his shoulders.
“Deeper?” He snarls, his day couldn’t get better. He easily swings your legs onto his shoulders, the backs of your knees wet with sweat against his chest. You’re folded into a mating press and speared by his cock. The friction melts you, you’re surrounded by his mass, his scent, his strength.
You thank the stars for his training because his stamina is unwavering. The bed frame creaking, mattress thumping and lewd noises from your wet cunt hits his ears, he’s not going to let this be a 1 and done.
“I think I’m gonna-”
“Do it darlin’, cum on my cock.”
“No no - I think I’m gonna wet myself.” You shudder, a palm to his chest.
“You won’t, trust me.” He grits out while maintaining fevered eye contact, “let go.”
And with that, your orgasm tears through you and you cover both your nethers in liquid.
“Oh f-uck!” You writhe and roll your hips, John slows down to languid thrusts, whispering into your ear “tha’s it, good girl.” The aftershocks spasm through your body, your toes tingle and you babble incoherently, having never squirted before.
“Mmm, y/n,” the Captain hovers over you and looks from eye to eye. He unsheathes himself from you which is met with a whine from your parted lips. He plunges himself back in. You’re wide eyed and breathless at the motion.
“Yes John!” Your nails dig into his shoulders and your calves and feet flop uselessly over his back as he thrusts quickly and deeply, slamming into your sex.
Soon his hands are under your knees and you're folded further, the angle causing him to connect with your tender spot. You feel a fizzle build in your stomach again.
With unnatural speed and precision, John gets you on the precipice again. You begin to feel him quiver, his muscles coiled and tense as he pistons in and out of you. One of his hands squeezes your right breast and the other is on the mattress.
“Please Captain, please,” you coo, trying his rank on for size with a broken moan. With that, John erupts inside you with a violent shudder, his member pulsing stripes of white hot seed. His orgasm is sharp and absolute.
“Ah love, fuck,” He grunts, his thrusts turning sloppy and his grip loosening on your tender breast. “You’re something else.” He barely manages to grit out. You stay entwined for a few moments, savouring the afterglow between kisses.
“Let me clean this up.” He climbs off of you, a finger trailing down your left breast. You’re too fucked-out to respond.
“To the- to the um left.” You call out to him but he’s already found your bathroom. He catches his reflection in the mirror, his sweaty and hairy chest heaving, face flushed red, hair falling onto his forehead, his softening cock hangs between his sweaty heavy thighs, with a full condom.
He swings by the kitchen for two glasses of water, still naked. He likes how your face softens when he passes you a glass, he doesn’t know if he’s flattered that you only looked at his eyes when he appeared.
He joins you in bed, both of you gulping water.
“Tell me,” your voice is hoarse, you add a pause, “what you want.”
John peers at you as if you’ve grown another head. Then a suppressed smile grows across his face as he realises. You are secretly proud of how you copied his accent.
There’s a pause and you patiently give him some grace, he drains the glass and places it on the bed side table.
Finally he turns to face you with softness in his eyes and says, “you. Asleep on my chest, love.”
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lu-lus-duckies · 3 days
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@huskers-bar x @nunalastor chapter 4
Tags: enemies to lovers, angst?, eventual fluff, yearning?, soft huskers-bar, both mods are separate people, no beta we die like i do, minor character death, ooc, au: hellaverse (hazbin hotel), nunalastor is head of the marketing department, jealousy?, huskers-bar is an employee at voxtek, lulu as a villain, huskers-bar is a liar, secret dating?
chapter: 4/? / chapter Word count: 2,484 / total word count: 7,426
nunalastor as a single entity is nunalastor, traumatized mod dickmaster and cursed mod nun. and huskers-bar just husk/huskers. babygirl anon will be babygirl anon. I will be lulu. Angie will be angie but is meant to be read as angel dust.
A/N: pure lore this chapter. Almost none of the funny :( sorry. i've decided that as an apology for not being active at all today, the entirety of the next chapter is just going to be nunalastor fucking. I will also stop talking about plot from now on, cuz i'm just bullshitting my way through at this point.
"Hi" Lulu greeted. The room fell into an awkward silence, and the air thickened with palpable tension. Lulu locked his gaze with Alastor's, refusing to look away. The seconds stretched into minutes, elongating the unspoken battle of wills and determination, a staring contest neither wanted to lose, although Lulu was undeniably unaware of the game and was just being a menace.
"how may I assist you today?" Alastor finally spoke, his voice punctuated by a forced smile that failed to reach his eyes. The constant staring wasn't enough to get him to blink even once, but the mundane nature of just staring at Lulu was more than reason enough for Alastor to interject their five extremely long minutes of silence. Plus he didn't need the other members of the hotel to start asking questions. they were too persistent anyway.
Lulu snapped out of his reverie, jolted back to reality by Alastor's question. He rummaged through his bag, shuffling items aside in search of something specific, his actions conveying a sense of excitement. Ugh, he could've been a living vibrator with how jarring the immediate mood shift was. "Ah, right," He mumbled, his attention divided between the bag and Alastor. "I'm here to try and convince you to help me... Again."
Alastor let an exasperated sigh slip, pinching the bridge of his nose. This had been the third time lulu approached him this week alone and this feral... whatever that thing was, wasn't giving up on it "we've already went over this lulu, I am not going to help you steal Lucifers blood"
Lulu pouted, letting out a saddened squeak, his hands immediately stopping their search for the list of reasons Alastor should let Lulu steal Lucifers blood "Not even for 75 souls? Really cute ones?" He bargained, shoulders slumping and posture generally turning a lot more depressed, just like the owner of those shoulders probably was.
"No." Alastor reiterated, "No amount of souls is going to cut it."
The very annoyed and pissed expression on lulus face was honestly disgusting. Lulu leaned in closer, as if the proximity would convince Alastor. oh how wrong he was.
"Dear, why don't you just stop with this nonsense?" Alastor said, the corners of his trademark fake smile twitching in irritation. He put his hands back behind him and stepped away. The more distance between this creature and him the more comfortable he felt.
"what if it was the entire west side of the pentagram?" Lulu offered, sort of as a last ditch attempt... for today at least. Lulu was not exactly sane enough to know when to quit.
"I highly doubt a creature such as yourself is going to be able to achieve such a thing" Alastor answered, mostly as a jab to Lulus pathetic self, but the idea of him gathering so many souls was an amusing one.
However, Lulu didn't think so. Lulus eyes lit up with mischief, immediately switching from that almost-scowl to a smirk even the devil wouldn't be able to mimic. He jumped from the realization, "so that is a maybe! progress"
Alastor shouldn't be surprised but he is. Why is Lulu so obsessed with lucifers blood? sure it tasted good but not that good. Alastor sighed, shaking his head in disbelief and spoke "if that was all you came here for than you're welcome to leave"
"yeah, okay-" Lulu cut himself off as soon as he noticed a sexy four armed hottie walking by the door. "woah! who's that sexy thing over there?"
"excuse me?" Angie turned his head at the directed voice at him. he looked left and right, as if to make sure it was really him that this random imp looking creature was talking to. Once he was sure there was no one else, he put on his trademark seductive smile "oh, are you one of my fans?"
"no, never seen you in my life. what's a beautiful thing like you doing here?" Lulu said casually, running up to Angie and circling around him. The concept of personal space must've been a heaven thing because Lulu was prodding at absolutely every part of Angie.
"oh, that's a first." Angie chuckled nervously as he watched Lulu welcome himself to his body. "well the names angie"
"the names lulu." Lulu answered in a heartbeat. He finally relented the assault and turned to Alastor, waving "Bye Alastor, I'll be stealing your bitches"
"what?"
~
"he's the most precious thing I have with me here at the hotel!" Angie said petting the pig in question. Little fat nuggets was very comfortably set in his lap and was napping.
"he is a cute pig, i'll admit." Lulu said, laughing along and staring at the adorable little creature. He tapped his fingers against the nearest surface, humming to himself. "hmm... say though, what is it that you actually desire? surely there's more to your existence than just taking care of fat nuggets?"
Angie slumped at that question, he didn't like being reminded of work, especially not when he's supposed to be relaxing. HE looked away, scratching the back of his head "oh, that's complicated"
"how so?" Lulu pried, crossing his legs, picking up his teacup and taking one sip. "It's tea time, and tea needs spillin"
Angie shrugged, reaching out one of his four arms to grab his own cup. he blew on it before taking a sip and sighing. "well, I kinda sold my soul to a blind prick" He began
"ah, gotcha" Lulu nodded, "go on, what's this prick like?" he pried, observing him with a keen eye.
That was all it took for Angie to start going off. "he's a real asshole, and not the sexy kind. he has no sense of personal space and is so insistent on always having me around. it's pathetic really-"
As Angie continued his rambling about how unbearable val was, Lulu listened attentively, observing him with a keen eye. Sensing Angie's frustration and dissatisfaction, Lulu formulated a surprising proposal. "What if I told you," Lulu interjected, his voice filled with intrigue, "that I could help you with that?"
"You're serious?" Angie asked, his voice tinged with both skepticism and caution, but he wasn't too against the idea, who would be?
Lulu nodded, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Absolutely. I have been trying to find a way to gain status you see, and what better way than to steal the porn overlords most prized bitch?"
Angie leaned forward, his attention fully captured by Lulu's proposition. "And what would you want in return? I've learned the hard way that nothing comes without a price. Not making that mistake again"
Lulu's smile widened as he raised his teacup to his lips, savoring another sip before placing it back on the table. "you're absolutely right. The thing is, the plan I have in mind isn't one I can carry out on my own. I need a helping hand. A partner in crime" Lulu said, letting the rest be left unspoken.
"i'm not helping you kill someone" Angie said, crossing his first set of arms over his chest and wrapping the second around fat nuggets almost like a shield.
"kill? nonsense" Lulu said, waving his hand in dismissal, as if even the mere idea of it was ridiculous. |I need you to help me collect souls. souls that will give me a name. nothing more. I can guarantee I will not be harming any soul that I collect"
That sounded very sketchy. On one hand, yes it made sense, collecting souls was how other overlords became overlords, but most overlords were also assholes. Angie couldn't let another one like valentino exist in the world. But the offer was too tempting... "how do I know you ain't lying?"
Lulu got up, extending a hand over to angie, pausing first in confusion. He was having trouble deciding which hand would need shaking "uh..." He shook it off. "I'll make a contract. In exchange for your assistance, I promise to free you from valentino grasp. In addition, I promise that I will not harm a single soul in the process"
Angie was sold. That was enough a reason to think this guy wasn't fucking around. "As you already know, I've already sold a part of my soul. no need for the deal. I'll help you"
"wonderful. I'll be discussing the plan with you two weeks before the next extermination"
~
Vox stared at Huskers, his crimson eyes narrowing as he processed the situation. Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon, had broken another of Vox's employees watches. His anger was palpable and causing static to appear between his antennas. "That fucking bastard?!"
Husk shifted uncomfortably under Vox's gaze. The pitch shift in Vox's voice was stupid but a little intimidating. "I'm sorry. I didn't get to talk to him, I went to this hotel after Angie offered, and I just stumbled upon him there"
Vox looked like he was about to blow a fuse but for a moment Vox's anger got replaced with a smirk. He paced back and forth across his office, his sharp claws clicking against the marble floor. The gears in his mind (literally) spun rapidly, taking into account every single opportunity he had now that husk was attending the hotel.
"Hmm," Vox muttered, his screen displaying a smirk worthy of the sexiest man on twitter. "Maybe this isn't such a bad idea. Someone to gather intel on my dear Alastor-I mean, that asshole!" He turned his attention back to Huskers, his gaze piercing. "It has failed once, but to be fair, that Pentious was a complete idiot." Vox paused, putting a finger up to his face. "Do they trust you?"
Husker hesitated, unsure how to respond. "Uh... not particularly," they admitted. Sure, they were in hell, but they were almost killed on the first day, that can't be a sign of trust.
Vox waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Unimportant. From now on, you are free from all other duties," He declared, his voice full of pure adulterated joy, one only a horny man like vox could make. "Your primary job will be to gather intel on that radio prick. I want to know his every move, his every plan. What he eats. Where he sleeps. What his favorite color is. What time he goes to sleep. What his hooves look like-"
"But sir—" Husker began, his voice tinged with hesitation.
Vox's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "Do not even try to negotiate with me on this," he warned, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "I own your soul" He reminded.
Husker's shoulders slumped, defeated. "Okay," he muttered, his voice barely audible. It would be fine. He saw Alastor once the entire day anyway and that was when he needed to break his tech. He wouldn't even get the opportunities to gather intel anyway.
"good" Vox turned away, his mind already racing with schemes and plots. He had been blindsided by Alastor once, but this time would be different. He would have his dear Alastor tied up and begging for mercy!
~
"and that concludes today's exercises! you're free to go about your days as usual now!" Charlie clapped, signaling everyone's dismissal. She turned to huskers and called out before they could leave "Huskers, may I have a moment?"
"yes, your... highness?"
Charlie chuckled, shaking her head. "Just Charlie," she corrected, her warm smile putting Huskers slightly at ease. "You know we have rooms at the hotel for you to stay at, right? I think it would be beneficial for all of us if you were available as soon as we started, and if it's something you'd like?"
Huskers' shoulders slumped and they sighed. "I mean, it's not entirely up to me, Princess. I'd have to consult with my boss first," They explained. It wouldn't be everyday that Vox showed mercy.
Charlie's expression turned thoughtful, and she nodded understandingly. "Alright, we'll let you talk it out with him and hopefully we can get you here!"
Charlie's excitement died down quickly though, realizing that due to short staff (literally), they were out of rooms where people could actually survive. "Unfortunately, we only have one empty and clean room at the hotel right now, and it's up with our marketing staff."
Huskers eyes lit up. The marketing staff? That's Nunalastor!
"And they tend to get messy at nigh-"
"I'll do it!" they far too quickly accepted, not wanting to miss the opportunity. "I don't mind at all. I'd love to take the room! I'm sure nu-the marketing staff are lovely!" they chuckled nervously, making it way too obvious what their intentions were.
Charlie, bless her heart, either didn't notice or didn't mention it. Her eyes sparkled with joy. "Wow, such enthusiasm! See, I knew I was right about you!"
~
Alastor hummed to himself as he traveled up the stairs. He couldn't help but overhear huskers little interaction with charlie and he just couldn't let the opportunity for some chaos and fun pass. He approached the door to Dickmasters and Nuns room and knocked thrice. Some thumping could be heard on the other side before the door opened in front of him.
Dickmaster answered "yes?"
"greetings, cohorts" Alastor greeted with that charming smile of his. Both Nun and Dickmaster collectively rolled their eyes.
"do you mind? we're in the middle of a fucking..." Dickmaster trailed off.
"we are not fucking, they're just too dumb to finish that sentence" Nun shouted from behind the room. The fact that they were sprawled across the bed in nothing but a shirt on wasn't helping the situation.
Alastor chose to not comment on it. He didn't care. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he began to speak "I have a favor. you see this new resident of ours is here to make my life miserable. I can hear vox's pathetic begging almost from across the pentagram, and they're a spy of his. I'm sure of it, however I don't view them as a threat"
Dickmaster raised a brow, unamused. "uhm, congrats? what's that gotta do with us?"
Alastor chuckled, leaning in font of them, hands resting on his cane. "oh, nothing much. I simply ask that you make their life miserable with your charming little quirks"
Nun and Dickmaster exchanged glances, contemplating Alastor's request. It wouldn't be hard and could prove to be quite entertaining. Plus, Nun wanted to stick it to that guy for some reason. After a brief silence, they smirked and nodded. "oh, will do at some point. What's in it for us though?"
"Entertainment"
"that's hardly a fair deal"
"By the looks of things, that isn't going to stop you." Alastor doesn't wait for a response and starts to melt away into his shadow. "they'll be staying in the room across from you." is the words he left with.
"fuck that guy with his own cane, seriously"
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aropride · 7 months
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mighr skip creative writing class again . because i havent done my work and i feel like im dying . of thefucking. being alive
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lynnorien · 10 months
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grumbles
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westernsunshine · 10 months
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Guess who fucked up her knee again??? And AT WORK no less
#oh god i hate this. everything about this. like i am crying and screaming and throwing up#GOD girl. honestly i think the worst part was it was almost the end of my shift. it was ~4:05 and i was sipping my water as i do#and i was about to go back to the counter and get back at it and serve the customers that were there. but i must have.. slipped? or twisted#something wrong??? i don’t know. all i know is my knee popped straight out of its socket and i SCREAMED and fell to the fucking ground#my coworker (we’ll call the sheriff) tried to grab me and failed. i just sat there with my head in my hands thinking PLEASE tell me this#didn’t fucking happen. it did though. VERY publicly#i don’t know who summoned them but the retail manager and my ultimate boss wheeled me out 🫠 and the marketing guy drove me to the hospital 🫠#which didn’t have an x-ray because shitty small town hospital 🫠🫠🫠 but we managed to rendezous with my stepdad there#at which point i was handed over to him. at which point i decided ‘fuck the hospital’ because literally they did NOTHING the first time i#dislocated my knee. they didn’t even x-ray it or prescribe me anything!!!! they just hurt me more; told me i’d overextended a ligament#and sent me home to convalesce. so i was like.. i mean i don’t feel like doing that again#i can tell my kneecap is back in the socket because girl i made it upstairs. like. yes it hurts like hell but i don’t think anything#is broken. i DO need to find out why this shit keeps happening to me and what i can do to stop it; but that’s not an a&e situation#that’s a gp or a physio or a fucking knee expert or something#so basically i’m going to stay in my bed with my brace and an ice pack and some entertainment and see what happens to me#i already know this is bad. like. as bad as the first time probably#the second and third times i was able to walk unassisted afterwards. i can’t walk unassisted. so.#basically tomorrow i’m going to call my boss and be like ‘i don’t think i can come in for the rest of the week on account of my knee#is approximately the size of texas and i have officially sprained it badly. but i’ll update you’#i hope i’m wrong. i hope i wake up tomorrow to just like a mild ache and feel STUPID#girl i can’t believe i’m saying this but i want to go to work. i want to work bank holiday sunday PLEEEEEAAAAAASE#i don’t want to limp around my house and cry. recuperating from an injury is the fucking worst WHY must i do it again#so. if you need me i’m going to be eating whatever the hell my mom has prepared (worst part of this is i can’t even cook for myself)#and reading… something. or i might play stardew honestly. or write!! i’ve been wanting to write for so long my god#so that’s my life currently 🙃🙃🙃#personal
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blujayonthewing · 2 years
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one of my irl friends is asking about commissioning a big full party piece, which is something he’s talked about before, and the PROBLEM with this is I just have no idea how to handle it as a commission because like
- the actual scope of the project means it Should Be QUITE expensive, admittedly more than I’m entirely comfortable charging anyone, let alone a friend in real life - the art is the kind of art I’ve wanted to do for a long time anyway, feels kind of weird to charge for it at all, given that? - if my friends respect me enough to proactively request to spend money on my art I should let them, I guess - if I don’t do it as a commission then without that concrete accountability I will simply not ever get it done
#the good news is I am in No Position to take commissions right now and told him so SO like I still have time lmao#the BAD news is the first time he mentioned wanted a commission like this was like three or four years ago#and that was apparently not enough time for me to unspool this little riddle kdfgjhkgfh#re: the last point-- a different friend asked if he could commission me to draw a couple of his PCs-- like more standard character portraits#like.... last summer#me privately: I'm not gonna let him pay me for this I'm BADLY overdue to draw these characters it's the least I can do#also me: [doesn't fucking DO IT]#I mean. in my defense. my mental health has been uhhh. ummm. uhhhhhhhhhh#but Still. need that looming crushing guilt ruining my life to get results kjgdhfdg#but hOW MUCH.... DO I CHARGE.... THIS IS THE IMPOSSIBLE FUCKING QUESTION!!#my commissions page doesn't have a listed rate for Groups but the one(1) I've done before was like... 300$ I think?#just scaling up my rates per single character#and honestly with the amount of time and effort I put into these things I'm probably not charging enough as it is BUT LIKE.#YES MY FRIEND IN REAL LIFE IF YOU'D LIKE TO COMMISSION ME TO DO AN ART I WANTED TO DO ANYWAY THAT WILL BE ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS. NO????#even half that! even a third of that!! there are so many COMPLICATING FACTORS AT PLAY and I'm ANXIOUS ABOUT MONEY AHHH lmao :'D#the concept he has in mind IS. extremely good. it makes me very happy to think about so the OTHER good news is I will Like Doing This#I just. ugh. UGH.#about me#irl frens#my art
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electric-plants · 7 months
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we pulled childe today baybeeeee
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ambrosiagourmet · 2 months
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I love Izutsumi. She's got a great design, she's a fun addition to the main party, she adds some new tension, and she's honestly one of the reasons I read dungeon meshi in the first place. I mean, "the most cat to ever girl" is an extremely appealing hook to anyone who loves cats and girls (me, I love cats and girls).
However, while I have always liked Izutsumi, I finished the story kind of feeling like I didn't really get her. I felt like I had a decent grasp on her character an character arc (she's a traumatized teen given space to feel safe and open up, and because of that she realizes that she can't grow without letting go of the coping mechanisms she once needed). But I didn't feel like I really understood her role in the story as a whole.
She follows the group of her own accord, after a coincidental meeting and a misunderstanding of what they can do for her. She's never super invested in saving Falin, at least not compared to the rest of the group. Though they do help her escape Maizuru's shackles, and are clearly good for her in general, she doesn't really have a healing Moment with the group the way that Senshi does with the hippogriff soup.
And yet, she gets an entire chapter, the third-to-last chapter, dedicated to exploring her growth and future. She's the one who frames much of the falling action, who lets us check in with everyone. She's the one who helps talk Laios into accepting his role as king. She may join the story part way through, but she is there for most of it. So Izutsumi! What's your deal!?
Well, I think I've come up with an answer, at least for myself, that I really like. Two of them, even! Though they both really work together to form the overall point - Izutsumi is the character that most helps the story face towards the future. Here's why I think that.
So the first of these "ah-ha" moments was when I realized that Izutsumi really is the best supporting evidence for Laios' point about the good things that wouldn't have happened if Falin hadn't died.
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If Falin hadn't been eaten by the dragon, Izutsumi probably would still be a slave. It was because of Shuro and Laios' parties both being in the dungeon to rescue Falin, as well as Marcille's use of ancient magic in the resurrection, that she got the chance to escape. None of that would have been the case if Falin hadn't died. Shuro wouldn't have separated from the group and joined up with his retainers, Marcille wouldn't have revealed her knowledge of ancient magic, and Izutsumi never would have even met any of them. They are only part of her life because of Falin's death.
Though this isn't explicitly pointed out by Laios or Izutsumi in the scene, I do think you can very much feel the presence of it. For one, when Marcille reflects on the journey and how much it made her realize she didn't want to lose everyone, her relationship with Izutsumi is prominent:
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It's the main original group at the top and center, but when you read it right to left, it’s Izutsumi and Marcille who might catch your eye first. And it's specifically Marcille and Izutsumi's relationship on display here, not just Izutsumi's presence in the group in general.
Also, after Laios' statement about how none of their adventure would have happened without Falin dying, it is Izutsumi who gets the final word:
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Izutsumi is also the one here who is the most forward-facing. Chilchuck is trying to correct Laios, Senshi is focused on the immediate future, and Izutsumi is talking about her new goal.
And I want to talk about that goal in general as well, because it’s also interesting how it comes up. In that moment, everyone is trying to remind Marcille of her less destructive desires - to eat food, to share it with them, and to meet Chilchuck's family. All of which are previously established, existing desires. When prompted by Chilchuck to join in, however, Izutsumi offers something new:
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That's interesting, isn't it? It's kind of funny, of course, to see her rambling on about a completely new thing, her own personal motive, in the middle of everyone working together to reach out to Marcille. Izutsumi doesn't even know who Yaad is! But at the same time, it’s kind of meaningful. Amidst the focus on desires that everyone already had, she adds a completely new one to the mix. It’s even the final bridge that lets Laios reach Marcille.
It is, in fact, even an idea that comes back later to help out another lord of the dungeon. The idea of finding new goals and feeling new desires... this is exactly how Kabru reaches out to Mithrun, after the Winged Lion is gone
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So yeah, Izutsumi's presence here, both in what she's actively choosing to say as well as what she represents of the consequences of Falin's death, supports the story's ideas of moving forward. Of accepting the past, and finding new reasons to live.
Which is all really good, and that alone works pretty well as an answer to what Izutsumi's role in the story is.
But oh, oh. There's more. Something I realized after having thought of all this, because I still couldn't let go of the feeling that there was still something I was missing.
And as I reviewed the things I loved about Izutsumi - her sometimes unhealthy ways of coping with trauma, her struggles with isolation, her skill with fighting, her selfishness contrasted with the ways she grows to care for and protect the group, her perpetually guarded nature, born from the seeming impossibility of ever fitting in or finding a safe place to just be herself - I realized something.
Izutsumi...
is a foil to Falin.
Where Falin copes with isolation and trauma by being eternally caring and struggling to say no to people, Izutsumi copes by constantly saying no to everything she can. Falin is often considered selfless, but does have selfish desires that she can’t easily express until a moment of crisis. Izutsumi is delightfully selfish, but chooses to stick by her friends when they need her. They are both transformed, against their will, into partly monstrous hybrids, and they both will have to live with that - there is no undoing what has been done to them.
Falin anchors the group in the past. Izutsumi pulls them towards the future. Neither would find freedom without the other - it is Falin's death that leads to Izutsumi joining the party, and likewise, it is Izutsumi who inspires the realization of how they can save Falin.
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And Falin is her future, as much as Izutsumi is Falin's. Both learn to be a little more like each other, even though they never meet. Falin gets a little more selfish. Izutsumi gets a little more willing to bend.
In this context, I feel like I have finally started to understand just how important Izutsumi is to the story. She is a proof that they cannot just go back, and she is a clawed, happy-to-scratch-anyone-who-pisses-her-off reminder, at that. In any conversation about what the group wishes would have happened with Falin, she cannot be ignored or brushed aside.
She is a reminder that, even in the midst of a tragedy so big it feels like a shadow you will never escape, you have yet to met all the people you will love. Hell, some of those people might even be catgirls. We should all be so lucky.
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drchucktingle · 1 year
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What flavor of queer are you, if that's not too invasive of a question?
question is just fine with chuck it is kind of interesting story.
on LGBTQIA trot i am TECHNICALLY two letters
easy first one is B that does not need any more explanation. that has always been my trot
second way is what i have learned through talkin with my online buds way of non-dysphoric trans. it has taken chuck LONG time to understand this but it has been fruitful journey i think. long ago chuck would post online about becoming other people or things or concepts or wrestling with my IDENTITY as a buckaroo (whether that meant becoming sweet barbara or becoming my reverse twin or becoming the entire seahawks footballs team, very handsome). in fitting with my entire heckin LIFE some buds probably thought these were jokes when they were not at all. they were just personal artistic bubbles tumbling up and popping in ways i didnt understand yet.
but through posting these thoughts and THEN writing trans tinglers and talking to my trans buds online, i started to realize there are all kinds of versions of a trans identity INCLUDING the ones that rolled around deep inside of me that i never had a name for.
three events helped chuck understand this
first: the trans buds chuck talked to while researching harriet porber said 'well i always knew if i could press a button and change my body to match my gender i would instantly do this' and chuck thought 'of course woudlnt we all do this?' and they said 'well no, do you feel this way?' and i would say 'yes very strongly'. i will FOREVER be grateful to trans community for these conversations and maybe it is another reason why being anti-gatekeeping is so important to chuck.
second: thought about all the games i have ever played like a dang videogame or a role playing game, chuck would ALWAYS choose ladybuck character. didnt really think this was a unique thing at time but it is a pattern across whole life
third: chuck was trotting around with some buds and they all said 'whose bod would you choose if you could transform into any body?' (this is common topic for chuck believe it or not.) and the buckaroo guys went around naming the usual brats pitt or handsome channing and it got to chuck and i said 'obviously brie larson' and then the dang guys just kind of stared at chuck and then i realized 'oh, i didnt even think my answer was unusual but i guess they were only talkin guy bods'
these three things happened pretty close to one another but they were all bubbling up for decades and expressed in various ways even chuck did not entirely understand
anyway. chucks way is NOT that i feel uncomfortable in my body and it does not bring me grief. i am not upset about it honestly. i do not even THINK about it most days. however, it is all TRUE and in a purely technical and utilitarian sense of A PLUS B then YES, male would not be my preferred gender.
didnt talk on this for a while because there are MANY dysphoric trans buckaroos who go through a lot of hardships and i have gone through ABSOLUTELY NONE IN THIS WAY. it has not made my life more difficult and it does not haunt me, so i do not want to have my voice drown out other trans buds who need space to shout. i am very privileged so even though technically this applies to chuck i do not need or want any bonus points.
that beings said, part of my journey on the autistic spectrum was to recognize that EVEN THOUGH my personal story is not tragic, it is still an important one to get out there onto this timeline. IN FACT there should be more stories of buckaroos who love being autistic like chuck. i am PROUD of my trot and i love my autism (this is also why i wanted to explicitly say my lead character in camp damascus is autistic)
so in the same way, when directly asked, i will say: i am technically non-dysphoric trans ALSO this has not weighed on my life at all. my story is not tragic it is full of joy and excitement. i will not shy away from this because there are all kinds of buckaroos on this spectrum.
anyway that is my VERY LONG TROT hope you enjoyed getting to know chuck a little more thank you for this question buckaroo
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lowkeyremi · 4 months
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jjk men and aftercare ft. Gojo, Choso, Nanami, Toji, and Geto.
a/n: I saw something like this awhile ago and forgot to write abt it but here I am now babyyyy (there is already a part 2 in progress bc i wanna do 10 characters lmaoo) also not proofread bc im tired :P
cw: really suggestive, established relationships, how they are after sex basically :)
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Gojo Satoru
When you two first started hitting third base Gojo was all about himself and about how he felt. When you had cleaned yourself up and prepared for bed that night Satoru finally realized something was wrong.
"What's wrong, babe? I thought you liked it??" He asks, worried about his performance in bed. Your silence prompts him to try and figure out what he had done wrong, and honestly he couldn't even think of anything.
"Pleaseeee tell me. I won't know if you don't say anything." Those invasive thoughts that tell you, "you don't matter to him." start to attack your brain once again. He's way out of your league you start to think.
"Aftercare. You didn't even offer to help me clean up, Satoru." Saying it out loud makes you sound kind of petty in your opinion but it does matter.
"OH. Shit baby I'm so so so so sorry!!!!! I- It's just-" He cuts himself off and tries to reword his sentence, "Well, back then I.. I was sleeping around so my pleasure was the only thing that mattered to me. It's different.. you know? Dating. I'm still working out everything. I won't forget next time I promise."
He'd been telling the truth because from then on he always went all out with aftercare. He would run you a bath with your favorite salts and oils, he'd make you your favorite snacks, he'd even cuddle you afterwards until you fell asleep. (rich boyfriend privileges)
Choso Kamo
He'd been waiting so long to finally sleep with you for the first time so he had done all his research prior to the day. He was looking at your dilated pupils, messy hair, and the cum that sat on your stomach.
"Okay so, according to the article I read, I should run you a hot bath, yeah?" He asks nervously.
A small smile braces your lips. In all honesty you probably should have expected this much from Choso. He wants to make sure everything is perfect.
"You looked up aftercare???" You sit up on the bed and a back cramp decides to hit right then and there. As soon as he hears your groan he sprints the the kitchen, only to return with a heat pad.
"Heat pad for cramps?" He's truly nervous, and eager to please you, the love of his life.
"Thank you, Cho. I'll take you up on that bath."
"Of course, I'll get in with you if that's okay." The smile on your face is enough of an answer.
Nanami Kento
YOU ARE WINNING!!!!
Massages, baths, homemade snacks, you name and he'll do it for you. In his mind it's the least he can do for you, because you treat him so well and give him that pretty pussy he loves so much.
"Right here?" He's currently working those skilled fingers into your tight muscles after bending you every which way.
"Ohhh... yes right there, baby. Hurts so muchhhh." You whine and moan at the same time. At this point you two have already bathed and he's made sure to moisturize your body leaving you clean and refreshed.
He seemed to notice the way you limped and asked if you need anything. The sex was good really, but you didn't want to tell him that folding you in half wasn't the best idea. Oh, but he's persistent would not leave you alone until you told him what was wrong.
Once you told him he had immediately sat you down, picked up your favorite lotion and started to work out the kinks in your body.
"I'm so sorry, again." He mumbles quietly.
"Stop apologizing, Kento. These things happen. At least I know to stretch before hand next time." His face softens at your giggles and he presses a small kiss to your thigh.
"Oh do not get me started." A smile creeps up his face, while blush slowly spreads across yours.
Toji Fushiguro
BOOOOOO no aftercare. well maybe not much at least.
Has not properly cared for a woman since his late wife but he realizes if he wants you to stay he'll have to fix that.
At first he would throw a wet rag at you and give a simple, "here clean up." When he got out the shower he was genuinely confused why you were no longer at his apartment.
As soon as you picked up he could tell you were pissed, "What do you want, Fushiguro."
He's a little shocked, did not expect that from you, "I'm your boyfriend so it's Toji and not Fushiguro. The hell is your problem??"
The silence is so loud. For a second he thought you'd hung up on him. "Hello??"
"I'm giving you some time to think about that dumbass question and figure out why I'm mad at you." He clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes too. He's lucky you can't see it.
"Ugh, I don't have time to play the damn guessing game. You're always mad about the little things.. what is it?" He's running through anything he could have possibly done wrong recently.
"Toji, you threw a fucking wet washcloth at me and told me to clean myself up. I'm your girlfriend, not one of your one night stands!" There it is, and the bad part is he doesn't even see what's wrong with that. (at first)
"I don't even give them something to clean up with, I just leave. But damn if you want me to get all fancy and shit I'll try." He scratches his head and begins to wonder why women are so hard to please.
Let me tell you he's no Nanami, but it's getting better. Still falls asleep afterward most times tho :/
Geto Suguru
You do it yourself for the most part, and here's why.
He's over here washing you up in the tub and he can't stop staring at your soapy titties and it just leads to more sex.
It's never just aftercare with him. He's always chasing more. Like that time you asked him to massage your legs after you two had finished fucking in the tub.
"Yeah shit why not? Lotion or oil??" He asks looking through your products.
"Uhhh lotion's fine." You'd grabbed your phone to see if your mother left you a voicemail which she did. She talked about how you need to pick up the phone or at least text her your alive if you're not gonna pick up. You were NOT going to pick up earlier though. Suguru likes to tease and you learned that the hard way when he was eating you out while you were discussing group bonding dinner ideas with your boss over the phone.
Anyway, he made his way to the bed with your lotion and all things went to hell. It was slow at first, nothing too sensual, then of course he had to slip a finger in your pussy and you sat there and stared.
"We are not doing this, we just got out of the bath." You were so serious, but so was he. (you were also aroused so)
"Another bath never hurt anybody, 'fraid of a little water baby??"
(such an annoying whore)
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unequivocallyreid · 2 months
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Do You Get It Yet?
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hi guys!! this is one day late, but i literally fell asleep trying to proof read last night, so… you win some you lose some.
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader
summary: Spencer Reid is your professor and you really, really need help. If only he wasn’t so distracting.
warnings: smut, little bit of fluff, professor/student relationship, unprotected sex w/ talk of contraceptives, age gap (both parties of age), breeding kink, choking, and some light degradation
this is a fun one guys! let me know what you think!
You swear you aren’t stupid. Really, honestly you aren’t. You’ve done well in school your whole life, not always outstanding, but you’ve always done well.
Right now however, you feel completely dumb. You’re in you third year of university, and up to this point, you’ve done good. Your classes are challenging but rewarding, and you have a wonderful group of people in your life. You have a cat and an apartment to yourself. You have wonderful friends, Lena and Eden, who’ve been with you since your freshman year and who you loved like sisters. Everything in your life was going right, except for your stupid, stupid criminal psychology class.
You should love it. You’ve taken classes like it before and they really weren’t a problem for you, but for whatever reason, you can’t wrap your head around the subject matter at all. Everything you learn seems to morph together and you can’t get it to sort itself out. Your teacher, Dr. Reid, is incredible. He is a genuine genius, member of the BAU (your dream job), and to top it off, he is incredibly attractive. Not just to you either! Half the class is auditing, which probably contributes to your troubles. It’s hard to focus when everyone around you is constantly whispering about how fucking hot the teacher is.
You try to avoid it. You sit at the front of the room, not the first row, but still front and center. Even so, right behind you are two or three girls who will not stop talking about him. Sure, they’re saying what you’re thinking, but good god does it get annoying. You’ve tried pointed looks, a few aggressive hair flips and humphs, and even a few well timed shushings, but they will not let up. You’d move seats but the class is full and everyone has seemed to have already found a place.
So, really, your lack of understanding was not only on you. Dr. Reid us distractingly hot, the girls behind you will not shut up, and the subject matter is just plain tricky. All of this leads you to spend a big chunk of your free time in your professors office hours, which always seem to be full.
You get it. Girls, and some boys, show up looking their best and asking all sorts of questions, and honestly if you were in a different position you’d probably do the same thing. But, you aren’t, and you really need help. You go to his room completely disheveled with a notebook full of questions that for the most part stayed unanswered. You’re lucky to get five minutes of his undivided attention. Again, you get it, those minutes are the highlights of you week, but, your grade is starting to slip.
Finally, it gets to be too much, and you find yourself spending nearly the whole class building up the courage to ask to speak with him privately. Right when he concludes his lecture you spring up out of your seat and go straight to him, surely annoying some of your other classmates.
“Dr. Reid?”
He looks up from his desk, “Hi! Ms.?”
“Y/n. Or Y/l/n, I guess. I was hoping to talk to you privately if you had time?”
“Oh! Um, sure, of course. Let me just wrap up here. You can wait in the seats.”
This has already gone better than you thought it would. Half of you expected the only thing that would come out of your mouth would be gibberish.
“Thank you so much.”
You hurry off to take a seat and wait, and wait, and wait. Around five other people stay around to try and speak with him, and while you catch him anxiously glancing over at you, each conversation still seems to stretch on and on. Finally, after close to 15 minutes, the final student leaves and it’s just you and Dr. Reid left in the room.
He looks over at you and motions for you to join him at his desk, “I’m so sorry that took so long. People tend to have a lot of questions after my lectures.”
You take a seat in front of him, “It’s no worries. That was actually part of what I wanted to speak to you about.”
You pause, wondering how you should word what you want to say. He looks at you, waiting for you to go on, but he doesn’t seem impatient.
“I’ve come to all your office hours, and it helps, I’m just still struggling and I, uh, I just feel like it’s not enough time to get my questions answered, I guess?”
You’re looking at anything but him at this point, “I’m sorry I’m just kinda out of my element. I love this subject and normally it clicks for me, but it’s just won’t. I have a notebook full of questions and I’m worried I won’t be able to figure anything out. Sorry, I think I’m just rambling at this point.”
“No, don’t apologize, I understand. This class is challenging, and a lot of the subject matter is hard to research.”
He stops to laugh, “My office hours do tend to be pretty full. I’m, well to be honest I’m not sure why. A lot of the questions people have tend to be things I explained in my lectures.”
Without thinking, you cut him off, “I think people just want to be around you.”
He looks surprised at your words, and you are as well. You didn’t mean to say that at all.
“Oh my god, I’m sorry. It’s just with a teacher that looks like you, god, no. I mean with a teacher like you-“
Your cheeks grow hotter by the second, “You know what, I think I can figure this out on my own! I’m sorry for-“
He stops you before you can finish, “Y/n, I’ve taught this class before. Half the people are auditing. I’ve gathered what that means.”
He cracks a smile at that and you feel your heart flutter.
“I meant I’m not sure why people would waste their time trying to, uh, impress me at office hours. They’re meant for students like you.”
“Oh, yeah, of course.”
“Unfortunately, there isn’t much I can do on that front. My hours are open to anyone.”
Your shoulders deflate a bit at that, worrying you’ve wasted your time and his for nothing. He doesn’t let you stay like that for long though.
“I want to help you though. Truly. I know reaching out for help is hard and I’m glad you did.”
You look up at him then, “I can set aside some time for you once a week if you’re comfortable? We can review everything you’re not sure on until you’re up to speed.”
You were not expecting that. You thought he’d look over your questions and give you some articles and journals to review at best.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”
“You aren’t. I’m offering, Y/n.”
“Then I think yes, I’d like that a lot.”
“Great! Email me some times that work for you and we’ll get started.”
~
This is all, admittedly, a bit above your pay grade.
Despite your best efforts, you are not a chill girl. You’re not very cool. There’s nothing wrong with that usually! You’re shy, but still manage to talk people’s ear off. It’s normally a non-issue: that’s just how you are. Today however, you are meeting with Dr. Reid and you are so not chill about it.
You had his class yesterday, and while you feel better knowing you’ll finally have help, you couldn’t focus on anything but today, so you retained nothing. All you can think about is saying something stupid or off putting and having him start to despise you.
You know you shouldn’t worry this much. He’s a professional, you’re trying to be, it should all go smoothly. They’re just the issue of the colony of butterflies who have taken up residence in your stomach. You’re nervous, so nervous, and you are not the type to get this crazy over some guy. Yes, Dr. Reid is probably the hottest person you’ve ever met, but he’s still human! You think… the fact that he’s some sort of super genius with multiple (multiple!) phds does not help to calm you.
Your entire walk to Dr. Reid’s office is spent worrying over all of this. In fact, you’re so caught in your head you find yourself barreling into someone’s back as you walk through the door of the psychology department.
You rush to squeak out an apology while picking up your notebook, but are stopped short when you look up. It’s Dr. Reid. Of course it’s Dr. Reid. You seem unable to be in the same vicinity of him without making a fool of yourself, so why would today be any different. You’d hoped to be able to manage yourself for the better part of an hour, but your professors unbelievably solid back has literally knocked you on your ass.
You do notice a ghost of a smile on his face when you look up, and you’d like to think he’s admiring you clumsiness, but it’s not likely.
“Hi,” you manage to say after a near excruciatingly long silence.
“I’m really sorry, I clearly wasn’t looking at where I was walking.”
He laughs a bit, “It’s no problem honestly. You were the one knocked off your feet, so I really can’t be upset aside from the fact you may have hurt yourself.”
This makes you breath hitch a bit. Maybe you are incredibly starved for attention from the male gender, but the slight affection of his words made you blush.
“Oh, yeah, sure.”
If you were any more articulate you’d be a public speaker, but at least you always seem to make the man in front of you laugh.
“I was on my way to my office to meet with you, but since I already have, you can walk with me.”
You nod, pushing yourself off the ground, then blush again when you realize you had this entire conversation on the ground.
The walk is silent, and you’re sure it’s more uncomfortable for you than it is for him. Any question you had has completely exited your mind, and all you can think about is how good he looks in a suit, and how much staring you can reasonably get away with.
Your first session is sweet. You manage to hold it together in Dr. Reid’s presence. He is incredibly helpful one on one, and you feel more confident about the class than you have in weeks. Before you finish, he asks if you’d like to meet again.
“Yeah, if that’s alright. This helped so much, but I think I still probably need to do some more catch up work.”
“That’s perfectly fine, Y/n, I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”
He pauses for a moment, like he’s considering something, before going on.
“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to give you my cell. I want you to be able to reach me if you need to reschedule, especially if we continue meeting, and it’s a bit easier than email.”
You’re a bit stunned but manage to reply, “Of course! But, um, is that allowed? I don’t want to over step.”
He looks away from you for a moment before replying, “I’m honestly not sure. Maybe we just don’t tell anyone?”
You have to bite back a grin, but you nod nonetheless and exchange numbers.
Although you know you shouldn’t be, you’re giddy the entire walk home.
~
So far, you’ve met with Dr. Reid three times and haven’t had to use his number once. Not that you’d been looking for an opportunity to though! It just hasn’t come up at all until today.
It’s been raining all morning, which normally you wouldn’t mind, but you’re slightly under the weather and the thought of walking to campus and risking getting more sick doesn’t sound appealing in the slightest. Though it’s not normally an issue, moments like this make you really wish you had a car.
You’ve asked everyone you knew for a ride, but they were all busy.
Currently, you were on the phone with Lena, listening as she tries to calm you down.
“He gave you his number, Y/n. Just text him and say you’re sick and can’t make it.”
“It’s the day of though! I don’t want to come off as unprofessional.”
“Babe, again, you have his number. Your relationship isn’t exactly the most profesh in the first place.”
“It’s not like that, Lena.”
“Just text him. Over explain everything like you know you want to. He’ll probably think it’s cute, maybe he’ll even offer to come take care of you.”
You can hear the teasing lilt in her voice, but, still, you rush to defend him.
“You know it’s not like that.”
“Whatever you say, babe. I gotta go, but text him. It’ll be fine.”
You say your goodbyes, and deep down you know she’s right. About texting him, not the shy sort of seduction act she thinks you have.
After contemplating for a few more minutes, you type out your message and hit send.
You: Hi, Dr. Reid. This is Y/n from your criminal psych class. I know we’re supposed to meet today, but I’m feeling like I have a bit of a cold coming on and don’t want to risk walking in the rain.
You: I’m sorry it’s late notice, if I could get there I would, scout’s honor.
You were never in girl scouts. You don’t actually know why you said that at all, but it’s too late to take it back now.
As much as you try not to, you watch your phone screen, waiting for a response.
Luckily, you don’t have to wait long. You see a typing bubble pop up, then disappear, then pop up again, before finally two messages come through.
Dr. Reid: I completely understand. Don’t worry.
Dr. Reid: I could come to you? If you’re comfortable.
When you read that, you feel your stomach drop to your ass. You decidedly not expect him to offer anything like that. A few things fly through your mind, but mainly that Lena may have been right, and having your professor come to your apartment is, at least, frowned up by admin. Still, the image of him in front of you, in your home, with your cat, is too much to resist.
With shaking fingers, you text him back.
You: That would be wonderful if you’re sure you’re okay with it.
You: Friendly warning, I have a very affectionate cat.
Dr. Reid: Good to know. Is 4 still alright?
You shoot him back a quick yes and your address, and then get to cleaning every square inch of your apartment.
~
Dr. Reid is an angel on Earth.
When you hear a knock at your door, you have to stop before answering to regulate your breathing. When you finally do, you see your professor in front of you in a cardigan (a fucking cardigan) and togo cup of tea that he immediately hands to you.
It’s all like a hopeless romantics wet dream. Hot professor, in the rain, at your house, who clearly cares about you in some way? It’s like he’s trying to kill you.
You step aside to let him in and move to your couch, “You really didn’t have to do this.”
He stands for a moment before sitting at the opposite end and saying through a laugh,“The tea or coming over?”
“Both, I guess? I just feel bad that Ive take up so much of your time. I feel like a bit of an inconvenience.”
“Y/n, please stop worrying so much over this. I want to help you learn, it’s not an inconvenience or a both or unnecessary.”
You really look at him then, trying to read whether or not he’s being genuinely. He just seems too good to be true, like he’s a fiction character made just for you. Well, not just for you, but in your fantasies that’s how you’ll think about it.
The next couple hours are spent reviewing material you are sure he taught weeks ago and stealing glancing at his mouth when you are sure he is not looking. Your kitty makes a few appearances too, and seems to have formed an instant attachment to the doctor. You are not as sly with your staring as you’d like to think, and get caught a few too many times. Honestly, you are trying desperately not to think about anything but academia, but he makes it so unbelievably hard. Not to put the blame on him for your insatiability, but jesus fuck. Intelligence has always been incredibly sexy to you, and it oozes from him
Despite the distraction, you’ve been doing good in terms of building your understanding. Now however, you are on the verge of tears, chocking down a knot in your throat as you try to make sense of anything coming out of Dr. Reid’s mouth. This has to be the third time he’d tried to explain it to you, and while this is the entire point of these meetings, you feel like a failure.
The doctor is lost in his own world, trying desperately to explain the concept in a digestible way, so he doesn’t notice your state. That is, until you sniffle, just slightly, and immediately avert your gaze.
He cuts himself off, “Y/n? Are, are you okay? What’s wrong.”
It’s too much, so too much. What kind of dick asks something like that, with that much care in his voice. You can’t help the tears starting to fall.
“I’m so sorry. I just, I can’t understand it.”
He looks at you with his beautiful eyes and says, “Y/n, it’s okay-“
“No. God, you must think I’m a fucking idiot. No, not fucking, I didn’t mean to say fuck in front of you. God this is terrible.”
You’re fully crying at this point, and you can’t bear to look at Dr. Reid.
He stays silent for a moment, before you feel movement on the couch and look up to see he is much closer to you.
“You’re incredibly intelligent, Y/n. I, I would never judge you for needing help.”
You bury your face in your palms, and, very eloquently, try to speak through them.
“Sir, you really don’t need to say that. I know I should have been able to grasp this weeks ago, all of this.”
“Spencer.”
You look up, “What?”
“My name is Spencer. You don’t have to call me sir or Dr. Reid. I’d like for you to call me Spencer.”
“Well, Spencer then. I’m sorry for wasting your time. I really don’t know why I thought any of this would help, clearly there’s something seriously wrong with-“
You’re cut off by a hand on your jaw, guiding you to look up. Dr. Reid’s hand. Spencer’s hand, and it’s gentle and he’s staring at you, and you feel like your skin is on fire underneath his palm.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Y/n. You’re one of the most capable, intelligent people I’ve ever met. I’m breaking nearly 20 different codes of contact by being here, but I can’t help it.”
You feel all your words caught in your throat, and all you can fucking think about is his hand and his eyes and his lips. You don’t know what else to do, so, in an act of unusual bravery, you push forward and press your lips to his.
The response is immediate. All thoughts in your head are gone and replaced by a mantra of Spencer’s name. You feel his hands move to the nape of your neck, holding you to him, and his lips pressing yours open so he can glide his tongue over yours. You’re breathless and ruined, and when he pulls back you’re too struck by him to speak.
“You have no idea what you do to me, Y/n. I’ve never wanted anyone like this before”
Your forehead is pressed to his and you breath out, “Show me.”
The hand on you tightens its grip, but the man before you pulls back a bit, and it becomes your only point of contact.
“I, I can’t. I’m your teacher, I’m nearly 20 years older than you. I shouldn’t have even kissed you.”
“I kissed you. I want you, this. I want whatever you’ll give me.”
“It’s wrong, Y/n.”
“I don’t care. I want you, Spencer.”
Hearing you say his name must break his resolve, because in a moment his lips find yours again, and he’s pulling you into his lap.
To recap, you’re in your home, on your couch, straddling the hottest man you’ve ever seen, and his lips are trailing down your neck and over your clavicle. You put your arms around his neck, threading your hands through his hair and experimentally rolling your hips against his.
His hands grab your hips, stilling your movement, and breaks from his assault on your neck to say, “I won’t be able to control myself if you do that, Y/n. I need to know what you want.”
“I want all of it, doctor.”
The honorific must do something for him, because he growls low in his throat before once again connecting with your lips. The same hands that just stilled your movement now guide your hips to press into him harder. You feel his length beneath you and moan into his mouth.
You’d fantasized about this for months, but now it’s actually happening and it’s so much better than you could have ever imagined. You feel him every where, and he knows exactly what to do and whisper in your ear to drive you fucking crazy.
You move your hands from his hair and break from his lips to pull your shirt off. You make eye contact with him and then reach behind your back to unclasp your bra, leaving that part of yourself entirely exposed to him.
“Fuck, Y/n.”
The expletive takes you by surprise for a moment, but you snap out of it quickly, taking one of his hands and bringing it to your chest. He moves quickly from that point, cupping your breast in his hand and toying with your nipple. Your lips find his again, and you feel him move to flip you, but you stop him before he can.
“Bedroom, Spencer. Please.”
He nods and you climb from his lap. On your way to the room, he discards his shirt. You can’t help but ogle his frame. He’s slender and sinewy, but you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. The angles and curves of his frame fit
together to create the perfect portrait of a man. He has scars littered over his arms and torso, but they don’t phase you.
You’re under him on the bed now, your core raising to meet his desperately.
“You’re so beautiful. So beautiful, I’m so lucky.”
His words cause a blush to form on your cheeks, which you can barely focus on as his hands are in the process of pulling your shorts and panties down your legs.
“Fuck, baby, you’re soaked, huh?”
You whine as his fingers make contact with where you need him most.
“Is this all for me, Y/n? Who’s making you this wet?”
“You, sir, only you.”
“Jesus, baby.”
If someone had asked hours ago you what you thought your professor would be like in bed, this was the last thing you would’ve said. Not that anyone would ask… but still. He’s nerdy and adorable, and while his looks are literally to die for, he doesn’t scream ‘I’m gonna fuck your brains out’.
His fingers pick up their pace on your clit as you find yourself trying to undo his belt. You’re desperate to see him as bare as you are. He stops to help you get his pants down, and when you see him in his full glory you feel a little faint.
“You’re so big.”
He lets a little whine slip through, “Yeah? Biggest you’ve had?”
You blush a little at his tone. As much as you’re trying to fake it, you don’t have as much experience in this field as one might expect for a girl your age.
“I’ve only been with one other person, so yeah.”
Your candor is decidedly not sexy, and you really have no clue why you would say that right now. The man above you does not seem deterred though, if anything it spurs him on.
“Fuck, Y/n. Didn’t know you were so innocent.”
You blush again, but reach to grab him, trying to prove how good you can be. He’s heavy in your hand, and part of you worries how he’ll fit. You know you’re programmed to accommodate, but the thought is daunting.
He must sense your concern when he says, “Don’t worry, love. Gonna stretch out this pussy for me.”
With that, his fingers resume their previous task, and he slowly moves down to trace your entrance with his middle finger. The sensation has you spinning, and let breathless moans leave your body he slowly starts to open you up. His fingers are long and precise in their movements. Every time he thrusts into you, they graze a spot that sends sparks of pleasure straight to your core.
“You’re doing so good for me, puppy. Letting your professor fuck you with his fingers.”
You can barely breathe, and your climax comes closer with every passing second. When his thumb moves to press over your clit and his other hand presses firmly on your lower stomach, you’re done for.
“Good girl, Y/n. Coming so pretty on my hand.”
Your orgasm is stupefying, and all you can think or say is Spencer’s name. You grab at him, desperate to find something to ground you, and you hear him moan as your nails dig into his back. He doesn’t stop for a moment, continuing to press into you and riding you through your high.
Once you come down, though you can still feel your legs shaking, you want more. You want all of him. You take him in your hand again, pumping up and down his shaft at a lazy pace.
“Spencer, I need you to fuck me.”
He laughs, his hand still on your core, “Ask nicely, Y/n. You come on my fingers and all of a sudden your manners disappear? You really are desperate for me, huh?
You didn’t want to admit it, but he’s right.
“Please, Spencer. Please fuck me, I need it.”
“Good girl,” he takes your wrist and leads your hand to your mouth. “Spit.”
You aren’t exactly sure what he’s doing. You think he might be teasing you more, letting you work him over until you beg, but he answers all your questions quickly.
He guide your hand back to grab him, helping you jerk him off before he grabs himself and lines up with your entrance.
In his first Dr. Reid like moment in the last hour he stops and asks, “Fuck do you have a condom? I obviously didn’t think we’d do this, so I don’t have anything on me.”
You’re panting with anticipation at this point, but still manage to get out, “I’m on the pill and I’m clean. I trust you.”
His eyes go soft for a moment, before he continues his previous mission. He lines up again with you, before teasing your slit with the head of his cock. If you didn’t want him so bad, you could’ve come like this, but you are desperate. You push your hips up, hoping he gets the point, and he does.
“I could play with that pussy all day if you’d let me, Y/n.”
You want to protest, and tell him to get on with it, but you don’t have to. You feel his tip
slowly pushing into you as he lets out a groan.
“You’re so fucking tight.”
He’s slow and careful, and you can’t remember sex ever feeling this good. You know he isn’t all the way in, but you already feel so full. When he does reach the hilt, you let out a low moan at the feeling. He’s completely inside of you, filling you in a way that is unbelievably good. He stays still for a moment before slowly pulling back and thrusting into you.
You can tell he’s being gentle, but hard enough and fast enough to have your legs start shaking more heavily again. You already feel a pit in your stomach, and you know you’re going to come, for a second time, embarrassingly fast.
“Fuck yes. So good for me, Y/n.”
The way your name sounds in his mouth drives you crazy. The only thing you can think about is how badly you want this moment to go on forever. Everything about him is perfect. Even now, while fucking your brains out (literally, you could make yourself say a word even if you wanted to), he’s cupping your head in his hand and telling you how beautiful you are.
Now that you’re more accustomed to the size of him, he takes your thigh, pushing it up to your chest, and starts too fuck into you faster and harder. His pelvis rubs over your clit with every thrust, driving you crazy. Your hands are in his hair and down his back, grabbing and clawing at him.
“You love taking this cock, huh baby? Love how deep it is in you. Can’t even talk you’re so fucked out.”
His words go straight to your core, but you know what you need to come again. You guide his hand up near your sternum and manage to cry out a few words.
“Please, need it. Need you.”
He takes your request to heart and moves his hand to your neck, squeezing the sides. You feel yourself get light headed in the most incredible way. Tears are forming in your eyes. The feeling is so intense.
“So perfect for me. Gonna fuck you dumb, puppy.”
You whine at the nickname, you didn’t even know you were into that.
“You’re just sucking me in, Y/n. Hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”
You’re close, and you can feel the pit in your stomach start to spread and take over. Spencer’s hand on your throat tightens slightly, and it only take a few more thrusts before you’re coming on him.
“Coming. Fuck, Spence you’re making me come.”
“That’s right. Come all over this cock. Show me how good I make you feel.”
Your vision is going white at the edges and you feel like your whole body is shaking.
“Fuck, gonna come just watching you. Gotta pull out, baby.”
You grab him before he can, “No! Want it inside me.”
He groans above you and you feel his hips stutter.
“Fucking Jesus. Want me to fill you? Make this pussy mine.”
You nod, the tears now falling down the sides of your face.
“Gonna come, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna come in your perfect fucking pussy.”
You can feel when he does. His dick is pulsing in you, filling you completely, just like he said he would.
When he comes down, he pushes his lips to yours, kissing you with an intensity you’ve never felt before. For a while, he just lays there, kissing you.
“Gonna pull out now. Gotta clean you up.”
You whine, but nod regardless. You feel empty at the loss of him, but you don’t have much time to think about it before you feel a warm towel wipe around your centre.
“You gotta go pee, Y/n. Don’t want to develop a UTI.”
Five minutes ago this man was coming inside of you, and now he’s back to being the man who came to your house in the rain with tea. You do know he’s right though, so you pull yourself out of your bed on shaking legs and make your way to your bathroom.
When you come back in, you find Spencer with his pants back on. Your heart breaks a little.
In a small voice you ask, “Are you leaving?”
He looks up at you then, “Do you want me to stay?”
You don’t know why you wouldn’t.
“If you don’t want to you don’t have to.”
You can feel tears welling up again, but these are different from before; he notices immediately.
“Baby, baby don’t worry. I don’t want to go, I just didn’t want to over step.”
You laugh a little at that, wiping your eyes, “I think we’ve gotten over all the steps, Spencer. I, I want - Just please stay.”
He nods and moves to take off his pants before sliding into place next to you. His arm wraps around your waist and you feel a tingle in the spots where he touches you.
“I don’t want to have this be a one time thing,” you blurt out.
You feel him hold you a little tighter then.
“I was never planning that, Y/n. Now, sleep. We can talk about how much I’ve come to adore you tomorrow.”
END!! i hope you all love it!
tag list! (leave me comment if you want to join and i’ll add you): @sabage101
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romanoffsbish · 5 months
Text
Seed of Romanoff
Dark!Natasha Romanoff x Innocent!FReader
Request | A redhead spotted you in a cafe, and nothing was gonna stand in her way of getting to you | WC: 3,376
Warnings: Non-Con (Trafficking — By parent) | Abusive Mom | Drugs | Toxic Natasha |
Smut: Non-Con | Daddy (N) | Little Dove (R) | Restraints | Unprotected Sex (P in V - Natasha has a penis) | Degrading | Forced Breeding | Belly-Bulge |
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You were hesitant, hands sweating, and teeth grinding levels of nerves raced throughout your entire body as you finally entered your house with Wanda, your new classmate turned friend. The girl had made it clear that she liked you, and the truth was you thought you might like her too, but you needed others approval first.
Your mom was really easygoing, most would say neglectful, but you figured that would probably work in your favor. It was Natasha, her youthful wife's approval that you craved, and for some reason, you never got.
——
"Hey mom," you greeted her with a hopeful smile, "I have someone I want you to meet." This caught Natasha's attention immediately, she sprung up from the couch and met the lot of you in the kitchen. You were so engrossed in letting Wanda introduce herself to them to notice the way your mom winced at your step mothers touch, her grip vice-like on her hips.
"It's lovely to meet you Wendy," Natasha replied, a cordial hand extended her way. The brunette chuckled awkwardly, shaking her hand out of respect, but you could see the way her demeanor had changed. It made you sad to see Nat likely didn't approve, because you were honestly running out of options at this point.
"Wanda," you politely corrected your stepmom, then went on in the same breath, "and I will be going up to my room now. We have an exam to study for this Friday." The way you rushed off, with her hand in yours, in a fit of giggles made the redheads blood boil.
"It's time," was all she offered your mother, the spineless woman nodded then set off to her bedroom while Natasha watched you walk into your own with the live footage now pulled up on her phone.
You were just too cute for words honestly, the way you plopped onto your bed with a silly smile made her swoon. Then she felt her mood fall when Wanda sat next to you, the strawberry brunette's hand brazenly laid on your bare thigh, and the jealousy was back as if it'd never truly left. Because it didn't, anytime someone so much as looked at what was hers she fumed.
You didn't know, but you were hers, she ensured that ages ago when she met your mom in a nightclub and tricked her into believing she was interested in her.
Natasha was well off, and your mother poor. It was easy for her to convince your mom to give her you. Your father left her when you were just a tike, and she resented you for taking her youth. As if you'd asked to be born, but regardless of the circumstances you were dealt, you were just so good. The kindest creature Natasha had ever seen, an obvious innocence that stemmed from neglect radiated from you, it was what attracted the redhead to you in the first place. When she saw you smile for the first time she was hooked.
Natasha, who was much closer to your age than your mother's, caught sight of you on campus one day. You smiled warmly at the barista, and she felt a darkness envelope her heart since it wasn't directed at her. She took a photo of you, but remained out of your eye line as she ran your face through an algorithm. Confirming to her that you were a bit younger, and so damn cute, the naivety radiated off of your instagram account.
All she knew after you left the coffee shop with a hum was that she had to have you. It was her final year of her doctorate while it appeared to only be the third of your bachelors. She knew better than to just approach you alone, you were far too delicate for her gruff, relentless demeanor. So she set out to learn all about you, and the life that led you to where you were now.
Then one day, when your mom was desperate for a fix, Natasha struck a hell of a deal. It was illegal in every single sense, but your mom took it without even a second thought to your safety or happiness. An endless supply of drugs and a home in Miami in exchange for you, her only child. The concept was sinister, and sadly fit her well. It wasn't even her first time considering it.
Fortunately, you got Natasha instead of the sleaze that propositioned her months prior. In this case, you were at least going to experience love, even in a twisted way.
Everything was finally falling into place for Natasha, your mom didn't seem to want to call it off, not that she really cared if she had. Now she could only work out if she handled Wanda first. No way was she about to let that slut have her way with you, your virginity was the redheads. She quite literally paid for that and your child bearing abilities, your genetic predisposition to fertility a cherry on top of the perverse sundae.
Your mother had vacated her womb enough times to confirm to Natasha that was the case. Surprisingly though, the redhead would've been fine if you were only able to carry one. As much as she wanted to breed you endlessly, until your body forgot how to be barren, she also was fine with one heir and the trophy wife.
First though, before she could embark on her fantasy, came the removal of the obstacle. Wanda, the younger redhead, who shared characteristics with the elder that made her want to laugh. Even in your conquest for love elsewhere did you find someone who resembled her. Whether it be her green eyes or red hair, there hadn't been a time where you brought someone unlike her home. It was a perfect reminder of your looming fate.
"Hey! Open this door right now!" Natasha shouted as the side of her fist pummeled into your locked door, "No closed doors in my house!" The action shook the walls surrounding you and startled you out of the horny girls grasp. Wanda glared at the shaking door and you just sat there with a delicate frown. Natasha had never so much as shouted at you before, so the sound actually left you feeling like a wounded puppy.
Your precious Natty, the light in the darkness that was your previous life with your mom was someone you didn't recognize at all today. It hurt your heart, because she'd never had an issue with you closing the door when Peter was over before. Though deep down you knew Wanda was harmless, your body began to regard her as a threat since your stepmom, who you adored, had clearly despised her. The cycle continued on.
"You should probably go," you sadly spoke up, "I-I really do need to focus on my study guide."
Wanda frowned, but with one look into your eyes she realized your daunting predicament. It was clear you were the mouse that'd collect the cheese, and Natasha was setting her trap. If she thought she could help she would, but deep in your gaze she could see you contently fell prey. The woman reluctantly nodded, standing to collect her bag just as she heard an ominous sound of metal scraping just outside the door. You stood up, and opened the door first, walking out to meet the fuming woman. Your soft hand settled onto her arm, and she lowered the hopefully empty gun.
"Are you okay detka?" You kindly smiled up at her over the concern, appreciating it and failing to see the way that her lips were fighting to keep from amusedly lifting. "Did she take advantage of you my little dove?"
"No," you sighed, smile falling ever so slightly, "We were just talking, she is leaving though." Wanda put truth to your words as she passed by in a rush.
"I'm sorry," Natasha solemnly said after a moment of awkward silence (she wasn't), "I just need you to be more careful sweetheart." Her lips gently pressed to your temple, and you melted into her, no discomfort present even as her pistol pressed into your back. "You are too pure, you'll never know who has ill intentions."
Oh how right she was... You'd never know.
With your front flush to hers she felt her cock twitch with anticipation for the upcoming day that she finally got to claim you, in totality. Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough. "I love you so much, my precious girl."
——
The following day you woke up to a knock, it was a simple two beats, so you lazily got up and once presentable headed downstairs to eat. However, instead of a table of delicious food you found your mom stood by the door with a suit case by her side.
"Mom?" The middle aged woman smiled, but it was weak as she opened her arms for a hug (a goodbye). It held an apology you didn't see; it was better that way.
"Hey kiddo, I'm headed off for a bit," she pinched your side and smiled, but her eyes looked sad as you met them. "Why? For how long?" She sighed, "A month."
"Natty too?" You cringed, you didn't mean for it to sound so obvious that you cared more about her, but it was always obvious. Charlotte never had the time of day for you, but Nat always did. Natasha found it hard not to laugh at your mom, whose face looked sad.
Natasha found the moment perfect, the way you were about to be all hers was beyond exhilarating. It was also a shameless way to check you out and disgust your vile mother. How dare she sell you... Like you were filthy trash... Fortunately you were left to Natasha, she'd never let you go, you were safest in her arms.
"Nope detka," Natasha sang from behind you, the sound of jingling keys followed her. "We're gonna take your mom to the airport, and then we'll get breakfast."
No one offered you more, not where your mom was going, nor the unsavory reasoning, and truthfully you didn't care to ask. Alone time with Nat was your favorite, every other time your mom left you alone with her you had the time of your life. This time would prove different though, you felt it when she kissed your lips as she entered the car after eating at the diner.
"Na-Natasha," you stuttered out her name, she found it amusing the way you were about to resist her advances even though your eyes had yet to flutter back open. "Don't worry detka, your mom is gone for good now, so we can finally be together. No more other people..."
"No, s-she said a month," you whimpered, both from the proposed betrayal and her hand on your thigh. "Your mother is a liar Y/N, you'll see that I'm not..."
The car ride home was quiet, except for the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears as her hand settled on your thigh, her grip possessive, and confusing. It was just as quiet when she guided you back inside the house, but it didn't remain as such. Natasha pushed you up against the door, with a gentle force to show you she meant what she said before, and you believed it when her lips and hands began to roughly roam.
"You're married," you tried to deter her, but she only shrugged and continued to kiss down your jawline. "That wasn't real, I only married her to have you."
"What?" Natasha pulled back, lips upturned as she saw the fear in your eyes and hot spurts of white coated the tip of her cock and spread all over her boxers. It was apparent to her that you were going to resist some, so she threw you over her shoulder and tossed you onto the bed that she shared with your mother. "Don't worry dove, we never slept together, daddy's all yours."
You cringed outwardly, but much to your shock, you felt as your heart fluttered at the twisted truth, and your virgin cunt dampened with her chosen title.
"I'm doing this for your own good," she informed you as she tied your hands to the posts of her bed. "It would be a shame if you tried to fight destiny."
"Natty," you whimpered, feelings disgusted as your core pulsed in need. “I-I.” For a brief moment she softened. "This is wrong, y-you're my step mom."
"I'm your daddy actually," she chuckled darkly, "I'm here to turn you into a mommy, so get comfortable."
No words left you as you tried to understand your fate. It wasn't until you felt the chilled tip of a blade on your bare skin that you realized you were now naked. "My mom won't be happy, you are not supposed to do this."
Natasha ran her blade down the side of your neck, a whimper left you as you felt the blood trickle down your skin and into the sheets. "Oh, you are just as naive as your mom is a filthy deviant; she gave you to me."
"N-no," you cried, you didn't want to believe her, but it wasn't like you didn't know your mom was a disaster.
"Your mother wasn't worth a sack of shit," she gritted against the skin of your neck as her hands roughly caressed your concealed womb. "But you, I just know that you'll be everything our kids will ever need."
"Kids?" You gulped, her words were clear moments ago, but yet you seemed confused until now, and the redhead chuckled, "Mhm, gonna fill you up until you are begging for more Y/N, my personal cum dump.”
Natasha smirked as your walls clenched around nothing in direct contradiction with your pleading words and persistent attempts to shove her away as your lower body pitifully tried to thrust her off. You were torn between the pleasure you'd craved for years, and the strangely alluring promise of becoming her pretty little housewife to push hard enough. "I'm not sure I want to be a mom Natty," you finally whimpered loud enough and she just laughed in your face as she pushed her cock inside of you without preparation.
The sight of your eyes crossing and mouth opening had her prematurely ejaculating, truly sealing your fate.
"Don't worry my little dove," she coo'd while stilling her hips, reluctantly allowing your untouched body a chance to get used to her twitching intrusion. "You'll be nothing like her, I promise, you'll be the perfect mom."
"I don't want to be," you cried, hands pulling at the restraints, but your words of protest were negated as you moaned like a filthy whore with a simple jolt of her hips. “Daddy isn’t in the business of caring detka.” You whimpered, heart shattering at the coldness you were not expecting from the woman you’d adored, but in the same breath you were incredibly turned on by it all.
This idea of being her filthy whore; just a hole to fuck and a womb to fill, was exciting you greatly. “That’s right detka, let daddy do all the thinking for you.” Her speed picked up in response. Your faux display of disinterest only spurring her on to show you just how much you wanted this too. It was a dual need.
With every thrust you could feel her tip twitch, and a spurt of her essence would follow. It alarmed you the more real it became that she was genuine about breeding you. Desire as you might to be hers, you were still in the process of your final year in undergrad, and had every intention to start your masters child free.
“Natasha please,” you cried, legs trying to squeeze shut, and your cunt was slick enough that it nearly pushed her back out but she thrusted against you. Her hips forced yours back onto the bed, and the way in which her tip slammed into your cervix made your mind go blank, and pussy flutter uncontrollably.
"Nice try slut!" Her fingers caressed the bump protruding from your abdomen in awe, the outline of the tip of her cock clear as day. "Your walls are working overtime to suck me dry, don't you feel it detka?" She grinned wickedly as her hand pressed firmly into your abdomen. "The urge to be full of me? My perfect little whore to breed. You'll never be hollow again."
You sobbed, it was gut wrenching, but not to Natasha. This was just par for the course, you needed a minute to see that this was always how life was meant to be. Natasha was your soulmate, you didn’t need anyone else, and she knew with time you’d be okay with that.
“Shh, stress isn’t good for baby making detka,” she scolded you as she pulled her cock out and kissed your lips with a tenderness, giving you emotional whiplash. Natasha slid a plug inside of you, it was efficient in keeping her cum inside, but purposefully short enough that you couldn’t derive pleasure by humping it. Your fate was indeed sealed; Natasha was a lot of (terrible) things, but she was never a liar. Her seed painted your fertile insides white, and every day since she's done the same. Sex with you had become a fast addiction, it took you only a minute to accept the reality. You sorta loved it, your stretched hole ached for her cock the entire time she would be away, you'd become insatiable too.
She wondered if it was the pre-natals she'd been slipping you every morning in your special smoothies that increased your need, but she liked to believe it was just your natural, insatiable attraction to her. Either way, she indulged the both of your carnal desires.
Before work she'd wake you up with her cock between your tits, you no longer wore clothes to bed because you never woke up in them anyways. After giving her head just like she wanted, with your once virgin mouth, she'd allow you to get her to the edge, but she'd always make sure to save her release for your womb.
Never one to waste an opportunity to fill you.
On the weekends she'd bend you over the coffee table, fucking you raw from the back while she caught up on her favorite shows. It was a mindless means to ensure you were carrying her kin, but at night she'd give it to you with more passion than before. There was a new toy at her disposal every single time, you wondered if the tellers at Kiss-N-Tell knew her by name now.
Natasha was a multi-millionaire, no cost was too much if it meant she could see you writhing with a pleasure only she could offer you. The redhead succeeded in ruining you for anyone else, and there was never much hope for another anyway. Not only were you stupidly in love with the woman, but you knew your only hope at freedom was her wife—your mom, who was gone.
That doomed hope of yours fizzled out fast. The month had come and gone, but in the end the only mother present within the four walls of your house was you as you held the test between your shaky hands. Two red lines, prominent in nature, flashed right up at you.
Natasha, the cause, was at work while you were crying in the bathroom. Then you heard the alarm on your phone. The oven was ready... You set two prepped buns on the pan, and zoned out as the sliders warmed. How hilarious and ironic as the two lines weren't the only pair at play here... Soon enough you'd understand.
Your heart soon cracked as Natasha held your son, Xavier, while your daughter, Inez, laid on your bare chest after a successful feeding. It was almost domestic, especially when Natasha kissed your lips with an unfamiliar tenderness.
"I can't wait for our family to keep growing," she grinned against your lips, feeling the way they shook as you gulped down your fear.
What a silly girl you were to hope for love...
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hijackalx · 1 month
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MALE BG3 CHARACTERS EATING OUT F!READER +18
characters included: gale, astarion, wyll, gortash
FEMALE BG3 CHARACTERS
a/n: HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY YALL!!!! your bg3 pookies have a present for you !!!! (hint: it’s head)
ASTARION
you guys already know i’m a pleasure dom astarion truther 😹😹 at the end of the game he is WHIPPED for you. so he enjoys every minute of giving you head
and he’s so good at it. and he knows he’s good at it
well— he’s good at it as long as he has the patience. sometimes he’d just rather make you finish on his cock and you know how he is when he wants something
ANYWAY……. he’s obsessed with the way you taste. and smell. especially when you’re close to/on your period. will literally BEG you to let him eat you out then
can be a little rough when you’re bleeding though. he gets a bit overexcited 😹😹 sometimes he has to stop and bite your thigh to regulate himself, which honestly hurts worse LMAO
will look you in the eyes while he kisses your clit
he basically never breaks eye contact. eye contact is HUGE for him. he’s mostly watching how you react so he can adjust accordingly, but he also loves how intimate it is
SO much praise if you react the way he wants— “thaaat’s it... that’s my girl”. he loves hearing you whimper his name, he could literally get off to that alone. your voice is as sweet as you taste
secretly loves when you reach out to hold his hand lol. he thinks it’s so cute
also loves having to hold your legs open when you start to squirm/try to close them. your thighs will be so bruised after
when you tell him how good it feels he goes “i know, i know” in the sweetest, faux-sympathy tone. he’s cocky with it lmao
immediately goes “come give me a kiss, darling” after you finish and he hasn’t wiped his face off yet. half of him is doing it to tease you and the other half genuinely wants you to kiss him lol
WYLL
i’m going to be honest i think you’re his first
he’s a little nervous to try it but he’s also SO eager. he’s just worried he’s not going to be good at it lol
he needs a lot of praise and reassurance. he’s constantly watching your expressions to see if you like it, but at the same time he doesn’t really know what to do if you don’t 😹
at first he’ll need some direction but he learns so fast. will start out slow and hesitant but eventually just loses himself in the pussy LMAO
gets rock hard from eating you out. the sounds and faces you make drive him crazy, mostly because he’s so eager to please. LOVES to know when he’s doing good
the type to moan into your pussy. probably because he’s grinding into the bed 😹😹
i think he could probably finish just from eating you out
when he gets more confident, he can be a bit of a tease. sometimes he’ll stop to pepper kisses on your thighs so he can hear you beg for him to keep going
he feels bad making you beg for too long though so he gives in pretty quick lol “anything for you, my love” or “your pleas are so beautiful— how could i say no?”
also i think he’ll eventually try to fuck you with his fingers while he eats you out too. once he gets the hang of balancing both it’s MAGICAL
likes to eat you out while you’re standing. something about having your leg propped over his shoulder while looking up at you from his knees does something to him BAD
he usually doesn’t want to overstim you because it feels mean 😹😹 but he will absolutely keep going if you want him to
GORTASH
i don’t think he really ate pussy before he met you LMAO
he seems like he can be a pretty selfish lover— if there’s nothing in it for him then what’s the point?
BUT……….. there’s something about you…….
he feels a little weird the first time he gets the urge to do it. he sticks his fingers in his mouth to clean them after they were inside you…… and when that creamy taste hits his tongue….. boom……. his third eye opens
he’s not super adept at it to start, but he’s got the spirit 😹😹
he literally eats it like he’s STARVING. i’m talking lickin’ and suckin’ on ANYTHING he can put in his mouth. nothing is safe. clit? assaulted. lips? sucked on. hole? tongue-fucked
even when he’s eating you out it’s like he’s doing it for himself LMAO. he just disappears into his own little world
he DOES love your praise though, so that kind of encourages him to try to work it out of you. he needs to hear you tell him how good it feels or it’ll bruise his ego
reaches up to knead a titty while he’s doing it
LOVES to do a bunch of hungry, flat sweeps with his tongue. will also press and hold it against you like that to get you to grind on it. he wants to see how needy you are
will say nasty shit into your pussy. “you taste so fucking good, baby”, “daddy loves this pretty little pussy of yours”. you can feel every vibration from his voice
will want to spit in your mouth after
GALE
i feel like gale is the greatest pussy eater there is. like he basically has no vices when it comes to eating you out
he’s extremely sensitive and receptive so he always knows what to do. sometimes you don’t even have to say anything. he just figures it out
his FAVORITE position is facesitting. eating pussy is a literal hobby to him
he’s SO good with his tongue. he has such good control of it and uses it to absolutely destroy your clit. his switching between circling and flicking will make you finish embarrassingly fast
will overstimulate you if you let him. he’ll keep making you cum on his tongue until your whole body is shaking
also the way his beard feels against your inner thighs/lips…………… magnificent……
since he’s a thigh man he loves to knead/bite/rub on your thighs too. will legit almost bust when you try to close your legs around his head. it’s that serious 😹😹
LOVES when you grind on his face. will grab you by the hips and encourage you to do it. you using his face to get off is so hot to him
likes to stimulate your g-spot with his fingers while simultaneously sucking on your clit. also gets off to all the lewd, wet sounds he creates while he does this
moans and groans like he’s eating a five star meal LMFAO
talks A LOT but it somehow doesn’t get in the way of what he’s doing. most of it is incoherent mumbling along the lines of “so good, so good”— but other than that he tells you how gorgeous/perfect your pussy is. i’m not joking when i say he worships your pussy
he WILL try to make you squirt. he’s in the splash zone for a reason baby
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threadmonster · 2 years
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Antidepressants are used to treat headaches and migraines because low serotonin contributes to both headaches and depression.
Anyway I found out ginger can work with serotonin levels in a similar way that some triptan class medicine does. Which means it may help relieve a headache or migraine. It has been proven in study. But there are also not a lot of studies. It also naturally helps with nausea so at the very least there's that.
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whoistartaglia · 9 months
Note
not necessarily a request but in response to your “i’ll save you a seat” post, i’d like to imagine scenerios where you (reader) gets to the door before xiao and open it and he just—malfuctions—error error!! and he silently closes the door infront of you only to open it again for you!! maybe this even turns into some strange competition where you and xiao fight to open the door for one another lol (xiao will always win because he just closes the door again and then opens it)
ANON DKSOEMLSLS I DIDNT EVEN THINK OF THIS BUT HE TOTALLY WOULD
spiritual successor to this (i suggest reading first)
as for the rest of them…
wanderer puts his hand over the edge of the table only to accidentally smack you in the head. hey, it’s not his fault! at least, that’s what he tells you when you’re rubbing the welt on your forehead. you bent down so suddently that he had no choice to move quickly. should you mention that he probably did more harm than the table, he’ll grumble that he would have picked whatever you dropped up for you.
diluc double flips over your pillow. you left to get up, he flipped it over as a sleeping diluc does and then he does it. again. maybe he was extra tired or thought you got up again. to be honest, you didn’t really know of this habit of his until the mistake. you come back to a warm pillow and snoring diluc, and turn it over yourself. this may or not may wake up diluc, and he may or may not flip it over onto the warm side yet again.
kaveh reminds you if you have everything but he should honestly save a reminder for himself. once or twice or three times he’s left the house without his keys, his work, his shoes (that was a strange occasion and he still didn’t realize for a solid ten minutes). you’ll have everything you need to get through the day, but kaveh will have to make a pit stop back at the house to pick up his own forgotten items.
childe makes you too many snacks at once. when he brought over the first one, you thanked him with a genuine smile. the second time, you still had some of the first snack left, but thanked him anyways. the third time you got a little concerned; the fourth… well, you at least finished the first snack by now. you have to tell him that it’s okay! you don’t need a fifth right now! (he already has it ready to go—you’ll find him eating it alone in the kitchen).
zhongli goes into debt. listen, he’s still getting used to this whole mortal thing, and honestly, not having access to infinite mora definitely blows. he’ll find some gift he absolutely must buy for you only to realize he has only one golden coin left on him. later that night, he’ll still give you that gift, and if his smile looks somewhat strained, it’s because he had to get a certain someone to pay for it.
kaeya’s brain kind of short stops when he sees you get to the tavern before him. oh, you’re already sitting down, look at that. that’s fine and all, he wants to be the one to save you a seat. so you’ll look over when kaeya still hasn’t joined you and find him sitting at another table alone. that’s strange, what’s he doing there? you walk over to him and he pulls out the chair for you, and so your seat for the night as once again been saved.
alhaitham will get annoyed if you fall asleep during a good part of the story. like, yeah, that’s point of him reading to you but, really, did you have to fall asleep during the best part? he has two options: gently shake you awake to finish the chapter, or let you sleep like intended. his choice will depend on what book he’s reading, but if he wakes you because it’s a research paper and you just got to the oh-so important findings, feel free to take the paper of his hands, drop it on the floor, and go back to sleep. he can continue in the morning.
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holllandtrash · 10 months
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death of me | carlos sainz
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pairing: carlos sainz jr. x reader
in short, the three times you didn't tell carlos you loved him and the one time it was almost too late.
i actually had 2 requests with these prompts so this is those requests 1: “You’re leaving because it’s easier to walk away than to fight for what you really want” 11: “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I love you when I knew I did.” 94: “Look me in the eyes and tell me that.”
Word count: 9.8k
warnings/tags: 18+ angst, fluff, plot with some smut, very light dom/sub blink and you miss it, this is a goddamn rollercoaster im sorry
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17 August 2023
You got the call and honestly, you thought it was a joke. Some horrible, practical joke that someone in your life had set up because they knew it would get to you.
Which is why you laughed when you heard the person on the other line say, “There’s been an accident.”
“Yeah, okay,” you snorted, rolling your eyes as you dried the bowl in your hand, finally getting to the stack of dishes you had been neglecting since this morning. “Who put you up to this?”
“No, this isn’t a joke, Miss,” the woman on the line said. “I’m calling from the Jiminez Diaz Hospital. There’s been an accident. Carlos Sainz Jr. was involved in a car accident. He’s-
You didn't hear the rest of whatever the nurse had to say. The ringing in your eyes drowned her out, along with the bowl slipping from your grasp and crashing onto the floor, pieces of blue ceramic shattered around your feet.
Frozen, you tried to listen to the calming voice on the other end of the line, the voice telling you that he was undergoing surgery. She couldn’t provide any more additional information, but she encouraged you, as his emergency contact, to come to the hospital as soon as you possibly could.
As you hurried to find your keys, your relationship with Carlos flashed before your eyes. Every moment, every laugh, every kiss, every fight, every word said and unsaid.
And god there were way too many words you hadn’t got the chance to say.
31 December 2022
Carlos grabbed hold of your waist and you giggled before slipping out of his hold, reaching for the bottle of champagne on top of the fridge. He tried to take it from you, knowing that you probably weren’t going to be able to successfully open it but you just aimed the cork in his direction and he backed off.
“That’s the third bottle,” Carlos told you, he wasn’t scolding, just casually pointing out that you were going to have a massive headache tomorrow morning.
“And it’s about to be the twenty-third year,” you said. Which was technically incorrect, but Carlos admired your excitement too much to correct you. You pointed the bottle in the direction of the hallway and he braced himself for the cork to go flying. 
When you managed to pop it off without his help, the bubbly liquid came pouring out the side and you laughed as you held it up above Carlos’ face, instructing him to open his mouth. He listened, but your aim was horrible and the champagne spilled down the side of his chin.
“Here,” Carlos said, taking the bottle from you. You looked up at him and smiled, needing to take a second to focus on him and not on how the walls behind him were spinning. Carlos’ touch was soft as he brushed his thumb over your lower lip, opening your mouth enough for him to pour some of the champagne down your throat as well.
You were drunk, but you were still standing so you considered that a win. You just needed to last twelve more minutes till midnight and then you could collapse on the couch with him if you wanted. 
The two of you were supposed to go out to a house party that his friend was throwing. But then you walked out of the bedroom wearing a silk red dress that stopped at your thighs and your hair in perfect waves that looked ideal for Carlos to tangle his fingers through and he quickly decided that he didn’t want to share you going into the New Year. The only person he wanted to celebrate with was you.
So he grabbed one of the champagne bottles and picked you up, hoisting you over his shoulder as you squealed. He carried you back into the room you just walked out of and as much as he admired the dress on you, it looked so much better stained with champagne and crumpled on the floor.
You had only been together a few weeks, you were still in the honeymoon stage, which is part of the reason why you were more than happy to just stay at home with him tonight. You couldn’t get enough of him, and Carlos felt the same.
Carlos worshipped you. He had ever since the night you first met, which just so happened to be the first time you slept together.
He wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a hookup after catching his eye at the club. You were supposed to go home the next morning, but how could you go home when he woke you up by leaving a trail of kisses down your naval and then across your thighs before he dove into your centre. He worked his tongue through your folds, not slowing until you were seeing stars. 
When you did finally cum, legs convulsing around him, Carlos licked up every drop of your juices and then his lips found their way back to yours. He told you he wanted you to taste yourself on his tongue and that was when you knew you were absolutely fucked. 
Carlos knew your body, he knew how to pleasure you in ways you didn’t even know were possible. It was the sexual drive and the lust between you that drove you to him in the first place, but you stayed for so much more.
You stayed because he memorised your coffee order after the first morning you spent together. You stayed because he listened to you talk about your family for, you timed it, three and a half hours because he wanted to hear all about the ties and the drama and the people that raised you. You stayed because Carlos treated every date like the first one, always looking for ways to impress you, to make you blush or smile.
So there were, four weeks later and ignoring his friends and the promise you made to celebrate New Years Eve with them, because let’s face it, Carlos much preferred having you on your knees in front of him than having to make small talk until the clock struck midnight. 
His fingers twisted through your hair as he released into your mouth and pulled out of you, but before you could swallow he kept your mouth open with a tight grip on your chin. Carlos grabbed the champagne bottle next to him and poured the bubbly liquid down your throat. The subtle twitch of his eyebrow was the instruction you were waiting for and you swallowed, tasting the sweet and salty mixture of champagne and him. 
You spent your evening tangled up in the sheets, you on top of him, him on top of you. When you left for a moment to go grab a second bottle of champagne, Carlos followed and hoisted you up on the counter, picking up right where you left off.
Now you were drunk. It was the champagne, yes, but it was also Carlos. He was intoxicating, he made you feel bubbly more than the drink itself did. He’s the one you couldn’t get enough of. With his shaggy, dark hair and even darker gaze, you pulled his face to yours and wiped the excess liquid from his chin. You sucked on the pad of your thumb, your lips pulling back into a devious smirk as Carlos groaned, dropping his face to the crook of your neck.
“Tú serás la muerte de mí,” You’ll be the death of me. 
“Good,” you whispered, inhaling a sharp breath when he attached his lips to your throat, nibbling and sucking on your already marked up skin. You could still feel the ghost of his fingertips from when he choked you earlier, something you both loved, but his mouth was also enough to leave you gasping for air. 
He knew you, he knew your body. He anticipated your reaction every time he touched you. And while you both thought you were taking a break to be able to catch the countdown, even having put on one of his shirts to keep his eyes from wandering, you were almost ready to drag him back to the bedroom because Carlos Sainz Jr. was also going to be the death of you.
But it was New Years Eve.
“Carlos,” you whimpered, pulling your fingers through his hair and giving him a sharp tug so he would lift his head. You hovered your lips over his, “We’ll miss the countdown.”
“I don’t care,” he chuckled, he nudged his nose against yours before connecting your lips. You both still tasted like champagne and god you couldn’t get enough of it. Carlos smiled against your lips and pulled back when he felt you pout. “What, hermosa?”
“I like the countdown,” you admitted, the volume you spoke at dropping about ten levels as you stared up at him through your lashes. “It’s like we get to start a new chapter in our lives at midnight.”
His smile didn’t fade because he loved the way you looked at the world with such a pure lens. He cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing over your flushed skin. You expected him to kiss you again but he just pressed his lips to the top of your head.
“The only chapters I care about are the ones with you in it.”
You were drunk, but god did that line sober you up. 
You couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol flowing through your system or if it was because your heart was beating too fast for your own good, but your lips parted with the intent of saying those three little words.
Because you knew then, at that moment, you loved him.
But Carlos kissed you and swallowed the words that were dancing on the tip of your tongue. You thought that maybe that was for the better. It had only been four weeks. A month. It was too soon to tell him you loved him, you’d scare him off. You didn’t need to start a new year with a traumatised boyfriend.
So you kept it to yourself and told yourself that there would come a better time to tell him how you felt because even though you were certain you loved the man standing before you, now was not the time to say it.
But when was the time?
16 Feb 2023
You opened up the top drawer of the dresser that sat across from Carlos’ bed, but he grabbed hold of your wrist before you could pull your clothes out from it.
“Don’t,” he said, demanded basically. “Don’t pack up your things.”
Ripping your arm from his grasp, you ignored his plea and grabbed the pile of clothes that had accumulated here over the last couple months. It started as a joke, leaving your clothes here, at his place, telling him that you needed an excuse to come over. 
And then one t-shirt turned into half of your closet being crammed in with his. Carlos didn’t complain once.
But you couldn’t live in this fantasy world you had created for yourselves any longer. Carlos was about to travel to Bahrain for the start of the season and then he’d head to Italy in between races and then Jeddah and then Australia and you’d be here. In Madrid.
“I’m not staying in your house while you’re travelling around the world racing,” you scoffed, hoping he could see how preposterous the idea was. He opened his mouth, giving you that same look he gave you every time he was about to bring up the idea of you travelling with him. You pointed a finger in his face, “And I’m not going with you.”
You couldn’t. You had a life here, a job here. You had no idea how other girlfriends and partners of these drivers were able to get up and leave their homes for a half of a week to support them, but you couldn’t do that.
Carlo yanked the clothes out of your hands and shoved them back into the drawer. You scowled at him, not like you were very intimidating but you tried to be. 
“Carlos,” you huffed out his name. “Let me pack, let me move out. This has been fun but-”
“But nothing,” Carlos cut you off and reached for your arm once more, pulling you towards him. You had been avoiding his eyes for the last hour and he knew something was up, something that went further than just taking your clothes home. “Talk to me, hermosa.”
Carlos didn’t just know your body, he knew you. Your mannerisms, your anxious fidgeting, your facial expressions. He knew your thoughts travelling through your head before you did, the two of you were so in sync it was terrifying.
So he physically felt the heavy exhale you finally let out, forcing all of the weight you had been carrying on your shoulders into the space between you.
“Why does this feel like a break up?” He asked, trailing his hand up your arm. His touch was soft and comforting and you wished it was enough to make everything better. It should have been enough.
And your next few words didn’t just hurt you, they sliced right through Carlos.
“Because I think it is a break up.”
Carlos let go of you to rub his hands over his face before tugging them through his hair. He backed up, putting a little bit more space between your bodies because as much as he wanted to hold you and tell you that you were making a mistake, he heard the certainty in your voice. The ‘I think’ was only added for his benefit. Your mind was made up. He knew it.
And you had seemingly known it for a while, too. You knew this moment was coming.
He walked out of the room when you turned your face, no longer trying to stop you from packing up your bags. He shut the door after him, refraining from slamming it because that’s not who Carlos was. He didn’t do things out of haste and anger, he wasn’t a reactive person.
No, Carlos sat in his thoughts and his feelings and he let them simmer. He thought about the last few months and wondered if it meant anything at all to you, because he thought it did. 
And now you were throwing it all away and because what? Because you didn’t want a partner who travelled for a living? You weren’t even trying to put the effort in, you were giving up before it got difficult. And who’s to say it would get difficult? Carlos’ home was still in Madrid, he would always come back to you and now you weren’t giving him the option to.
He could hear you packing from down the hall, a few drawers shutting, his closet opening and closing. This was wrong. And if it felt wrong to him he knew it must have felt wrong for you too, even if you didn’t want to admit it. 
When you walked out a while later, a duffle bag over your shoulder, a small suitcase behind you, you still avoided his eyes as much as you could because you didn’t want him to know you had been crying. You didn’t want him to know that this break up was destroying you, but was ultimately the right thing to do.
Carlos stood up and approached you, still keeping his emotions in check even though it broke him to see you so hurt, so hurt over your own choices. 
This could be avoided, he thought. This didn’t need to end.
You dropped the bag to the ground and inhaled a deep breath. You glanced at Carlos, but only momentarily as he stood in front of you. It was a lot easier to look at the buttons of his shirt or the rings on his hand or literally anything else because meeting his gaze was too hard. 
But this is why you had to leave.
You hated goodbyes and if you had to say goodbye to him every week, if you were going to be in different countries for most of the year, if you weren’t even going to be with him, then what was the point of this relationship?
You wanted to grow with your partner and you couldn’t do that if they were a Formula 1 driver. You couldn’t grow with Carlos.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered with a shake of your head. He could hear the way you choked to get those words out, fighting back even more tears. 
Carlos, knowing he didn’t have much a chance to convince you into staying, still lifted his hand to your face, cupping your cheek and choosing to look past the way you winced as you leaned into his touch, as if already thinking about how this would be the last time you’d feel this sense of comfort.
“Don’t do this,” Carlos said, voice timid and lanced with desperation. “Please.”
“Carlos, please don’t make this harder than it has to be-”
“I love you.”
You froze. 
Even as Carlos rested his other palm against the side of your face and forced your attention on him, dipping his head as he repeated those words, you remained frozen. 
“I love you,” he spoke with so much confidence it scared you. “I love you and I don’t want this to be over. It can’t be over.”
It wasn’t that you couldn’t say those words back because you didn't reciprocate them, you couldn’t say it back because it would only make things harder. Up until now, neither of you had said you loved the other. And up until now, you were perfectly happy pushing what you felt for him down because the timing never felt right and now you knew why.
Deep down you always knew that you’d find yourself needing to walk away. 
He’d have an easier time letting you go if you told him you didn’t love him and while it would have been a lie, it was what he needed to hear. 
You stepped back and grabbed the duffle bag off the floor, his arms fell back to his sides.
“I’m sorry, Carlos, I don’t-” you turned to the door, letting your hair fall in front of your face, “I don’t love you.”
“I don’t believe that.”
He wasn’t arrogant, but he was persistent. 
“Well it’s true,” you pulled the strap of the bag over your shoulder and reached for the handle of the door. If you just avoided his big brown eyes and the stare that had you hooked before either of you ever said a word, you could leave. You pulled open the door, only for him to press his palm against it and slam it shut again.
You felt his chest against your back as he stepped forward. Each breath he took was in sync with yours, because you two were always in sync, even at the worst of times.
“I don’t love you,” you repeated, raising your voice.
“Look me in the eyes and tell me that, then.”
You couldn’t. 
You couldn’t because the moment you turned around you would fall back into his arms. You’d let yourself get swept away by his promises and his affection and then he’d leave for a race and then another and another. You loved this bubble you created during the office season and you fell so hard so fast for Carlos, but it wasn’t meant to last.
“I’m leaving,” was all you could get, gripping the handle again and yanking the door open with such force that Carlos had no choice but to take a step back. He tried to reach for you, his fingers ghosted over yours, but there was nothing he could do to stop you.
You were gone.
June 4 2023
You kept up with the races throughout the beginning of the season. You still followed his account and all of the motorsport ones he was associated with. You didn’t dare like or comment on any of them, but you weren’t ready to let him go.
Telling Carlos you didn’t love him was the hardest thing you’d ever done.
And you didn’t let yourself look at him as you said it either, you didn’t take on any of the pain that he felt. You said the words, you broke his heart and then you left. 
Carlos didn’t try to reach out once, not like you expected him to. Even when he was home between races, which wasn’t often, you’d only hear about it from social media. 
But this was what you wanted, right? You wanted this life, you wanted to stay home. You didn’t want to keep chasing after a Formula 1 driver and be forced to follow him from country to country if you wanted to spend time with him. That wasn't healthy nor was it something you wanted to put yourself through.
Getting over him, however, was impossible. 
And you tried, really. You went out with your friends, you distracted yourself, you picked up hobby after hobby but good god your thoughts always travelled back to him. 
You fought with yourself. You kept asking yourself if you made a mistake by ending things. You kept wondering why you didn’t at least try. But then you’d see a photo of him getting into yet another plane and you knew you made the right choice. 
Your lifestyles were extremely different. Your personalities were compatible, yes, but the way you went about your day to day lives would never line up. At least not while he was racing.
You wouldn’t lie to yourself, though. You liked watching him race.
When you watched from home, your eyes were always on the number 55 Ferrari. You rooted for him, you winced at every near miss, you celebrated his finishes and without fail, you always looked at your phone and thought about congratulating him via text or even a call, only to instantly decide against it.
You weren’t even that big of a Formula 1 fan before you met him, but now this seemed to be as close to him as you’d ever get again.
It didn’t help that he looked good. 
Carlos pulled off those red racing overalls. And when they hung low around his hips and the fireproofs clung to his skin, god you wanted to scream at yourself for letting him go. You could have been there, at the races, if you just put a little more effort in. You could have been the one to rip the fireproofs off his body after he got out of the car, because let's face it, after some of the runs he’s had this season, you knew he was probably needing an outlet to release some of that pent up energy and frustration. 
You missed running your fingers through his hair. You missed the feeling of his lips tracing every inch of your skin. You missed waking up next to him and seeing your legs tangled together with the sheets. You missed that he was always looking for a reason to touch you, whether it be your wrist or your pinky finger or your back, his hand was always on you.
You missed Carlos.
You loved Carlos.
Which was why your judgement was a little clouded when your friend invited you to Barcelona the weekend of the grand prix, not to watch the race because god knew neither of you could afford tickets, but to visit the clubs she hoped the drivers would be at. 
She knew people who knew people and you didn’t ask questions, you just gripped her hand tightly as she led you towards the VIP section of the third club that night. The first one was a bust. The second one you spotted a few people associated with Formula 1, but the third nightclub was the jackpot.
It didn’t take long to spot Charles, celebrating getting a podium after a difficult qualifying session on Saturday. You never actually met Charles but you had heard lots about him, and from the look he gave you across the lounge, you had a feeling he had heard a lot about you too.
With a drink in his hand, he made his way towards you, nodding to himself when he realised that, yes, the girl in front of him was in fact his teammate's ex. 
“Does Carlos know you’re here?” Charles asked, dipping his face towards your ear to be heard over the obnoxious music. You shook your head, eyes darting all around him but the Spanish driver was nowhere in sight.
“Is he-” god why were you even asking? You didn’t have a right to. You broke up with him. “Is he here?”
Charles nodded again, standing up straight to look around the crowded room full of bodies dancing and mingling. A chuckle passed his lips as his eyes widened momentarily, “Looks like he’s a little busy though.”
You turned on your heels. It took a second for you to understand what Charles was talking about.
But then you saw it.
A girl, who very much resembled you, height wise and hair wise, had her arms wrapped around Carlos’ neck as she held their bodies together, letting the music flow through them as they danced together. 
You hated the way he was staring at her, like he was thinking about all of the ways he was going to devour her. 
And unlike Carlos, you did not let your feelings sit. You reacted to everything. Out of anger, spite, jealousy, you never took a second to think about your actions or the potential consequences before doing anything. 
So before you even processed how horrible of an idea this was, you walked across the club, the music fading into the background as you only heard a high pitched ringing in your ears. Carlos paid no attention to you, he had no idea you were even there until you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and pulled his hand off the waist of your lookalike. 
She scoffed at you and shot a quick glance towards Carlos, “Cuál es su problema?” What’s your problem?
“You,” You shot back, not giving her any chance of a rebuttal before you pulled Carlos away from her and the dance floor. He called your name, trying to get your attention as you navigated your way to the bathrooms. He was much stronger than you, so he could have pulled your hand off of him if he really wanted to, but he let you drag him into the single user washroom without much of a fight.
It wasn’t until you locked the door behind him and stood only inches apart did it sink in what you just did.
Your heart was racing as you stared up at Carlos. You took in his stern features, the way his eyebrows pinched together as he waited for an explanation, the way he crossed his arms over his chest. 
This was very reminiscent of the night you met, only when you met in the club you pulled him into the backseat of a car and he couldn’t take his hands off of you. Now, he was purposely keeping the distance and he seemingly wanted nothing to do with you.
He must have known you didn’t have any words because he cleared his throat and eyed you once over, “What the fuck was that?”
What the hell could you say? That was me pulling you off some stupid look alike because even though I broke up with you, I don’t want to see you with anyone else?
That would be the truth. The reasonable thing to respond with because after pulling him away from his date, you probably at least owed him some honesty.
But again, you were someone who reacted. 
“What?” You scoffed, arm flailing to the side. “You think you can come back to Spain for the first time in months and not say a single fucking thing to me? Weren’t you the one who said your home was in Madrid? People talk, Carlos, you haven’t been home since the day-”
“Since the day you left,” he interrupted, knowing damn well you were trying to say he hadn’t been back home since he left for the season even though you both knew there was a deeper reasoning as to why. 
Carlos shook his head. His usually loving stare was cold and intimidating, he wasn’t going to let you put the blame on him for anything that had occurred.
“I haven’t been back to Madrid since that day you walked out on me,” Carlos repeated himself, putting heavy emphasis on the reminder that you were the one that left him. “I hope you understand, but I haven’t really been in any sort of rush to go back.”
Why would he want to go back home knowing you wouldn’t be there when he returned? Why would he go back to the one place he knew you’d be, but would still inevitably be just out of his reach? So close yet so fucking far. 
He wasn’t going to put himself through that, through knowing you’d be in the same city but not being able to touch you. It was easier to find other places to stay between races.
And you did understand that. It may not have sunk in right away, but it made sense now. You couldn’t see it through the tv screen, you couldn’t get a read on him when you were watching him race from miles and miles away. But you saw it now.
Carlos hadn’t moved on either.
He took a breath as he leaned back against the door. You didn’t like the defensive stance he was relying on. With his arms over his chest all you wanted was to step forward and take his hands in yours. You hated the space between your bodies.
But you were broken up. You both had to accept that, as hard as it was, and that was your doing. 
Except you still didn’t want to see him with someone else.
“So who was she?” You asked, drifting the topic of conversation back to the girl from the dance floor.
“You don’t really have a right to ask.”
“It’s not a crime to be curious.”
Carlos clenched his jaw as he averted his gaze for a second. He rubbed his palm over his chin and shrugged, giving in to your question because he always did struggle to say no to you, “I don’t know, honestly. I met her ten minutes ago at the bar.”
“Sounds familiar,” you muttered under your breath, thinking back to when you first met.
“We met on the dance floor,” Carlos pointed out.
“I was on the dance floor. You were at the bar.”
“We were both on the dance floor,” he repeated, sounding more sure of himself the second time. 
His eyes dropped, taking in your outfit of choice for the first time since you’ve been in the enclosed space and when the corner of his lips curved upwards, just for a second, you felt your heart skip a beat just like it did the first night you met.
“You were wearing that same skirt too,” he said and you automatically looked down at the black leather skirt you currently had on. 
“Was not,” you scoffed, but to be fair, you had absolutely no idea what you had on that night.
Carlos chuckled, ignoring your childish rebuttal. “That skirt and a white top and I know it was white because I remember watching you spill your drink all over the front of it and you said-”
“I need an excuse to take it off anyway,” you finished for him, flashes of that night appeared in your mind. For so long, you only remembered how Carlos made you feel when you first met that none of the other details mattered.
But he remembered everything.
“You ordered gin and tonics all night,” Carlos continued, studying your face as your features softened with each additional memory. “Your friends tried to pull you away from me when we were on the dance floor and you didn’t let them. When I introduced myself, you had no idea who I was and when we finally stepped outside to leave the club, you looked at me with those big eyes of yours and you-” 
He stopped midway and inhaled a faint breath, you both did actually. His was due to reliving the night you first met and yours was due to the fact that Carlos stepped forward finally, raising his fingers to your chin to tilt your face upwards. 
You leaned into his touch, stepping forward yourself to trace your hand over the shirt he wore as he finished his final thought.
“You looked up at me and you told me I looked like someone you could fall in love with.”
Alarms went off. You wanted to run again. You didn’t want to have this conversation again. Once was enough. 
“I don’t- I don’t remember that,” you stammered out. 
“Because you were drinking gin and tonics all night,” Carlos said again, this time with a hint of a smile. “I also don’t even think you meant to say it, you changed the topic immediately afterwards.”
“You could just be making this shit up,” you pointed out, not wanting to accept the fact that you knew Carlos would be someone you would love since that first night. 
“I could be,” he nodded in agreement, fingers still holding onto your jaw. He stared at you the way he used to. With such adoration and desire. What used to be lust melted into something so much stronger and it hadn’t faded even if months passed. “But unlike you, I don’t lie.”
Your eyebrows pinched together, “When have I ever lied to you?” 
“The day you left,” there was another hit to the chest as you anticipated the rest of his sentence. “When you told me you didn’t love me.”
“That wasn’t a lie,” your words tasted like acid on your tongue. 
His hand fell from your face and he laughed. The sort of laugh that had your stomach turning in knots because there was nothing humorous about this situation you had now found yourselves in for the second time in four months.
“I know you,” Carlos said. “And I know there’s no possible way that I am the only one that feels so strongly it hurts. I know you love me because I feel it. I always have. In the way you touch me, in the way you run your hands through my hair, in the way you used to wake me up in the morning by kissing me until I finally opened my eyes. I know you love me because I see it in everything you do. In the way you look at me, the way your eyes always found mine if we were in a crowded room and I could see the breath of relief you’d take because as long as we saw each other, the world was calm. I saw it when you started leaving your clothes at my place, when you started going grocery shopping for us instead of just you and I saw how it broke you to walk out on me that day. It wouldn’t have hurt if you didn’t love me.”
With your hand still gripping onto his shirt, your lower lip trembled as you tried to find something to say in response. Every single word that came out of his mouth was true. He knew you better than you knew yourself and he probably knew long before you did that you loved him.
You dropped your gaze, focusing on the wrinkles on his shirt and the white button you played with under your thumb, “You know that phrase, if you love something, set it free?”
“And if it comes back, it's yours,” Carlos added on, stepping closer as he raised his hand to the side of your face, his fingers twisting through your hair. “I’m here, hermosa. I’m yours, I’ve always been yours.”
Now it was your turn to laugh. You forced yourself to, thinking that the humorous breath of air protruding from your lips might make the rest of this conversation easier. 
It didn’t.
“Carlos I can’t keep setting you free every time there’s a race,” you said, your voice timid. “I can’t. If I’m going to love you I’m going to do it with every bone in my body, with every fibre of my being and I can’t do that if you’re gone for eight months of the year. I need you in my life, with me, by my side, not on a tv screen, not all around the world.”
What you were asking for was selfish, you knew this. You knew that, essentially, you were putting Carlos in a position where he had to choose. He had to choose between you and racing and that wasn’t a fair spot for him to be in. You knew this.
Which is why you chose for him. 
Four months ago you chose for him, and you were doing it again now.
You briefly glanced up to meet his eyes, trying to move past the way you were melting at the feeling of his hands in your hair. 
“I shouldn’t have come to Barcelona, I’m sorry,” you breathed out, hands falling to your side. Without so much as a second look, you stepped past the driver and reached for the door handle. 
Carlos didn’t let you walk out on him this time.
He grabbed your wrist and spun you back around so fast that you didn’t have a second to breathe before his lips were on yours. Furiously and passionately like he was making up for all of these months without you. His tongue dove into your mouth as you slid your hand around the back of his neck, holding his face to yours because even though you knew this was a terrible idea, that you were broken up, there was no better feeling in the world than kissing Carlos Sainz Jr.
Neither of you were sure who started undressing first. It didn’t matter. Buttons went flying, your skirt got hiked up around your waist and when Carlos hoisted you up to place you on top of the sink, you had a momentary lapse of judgement and asked yourself why you broke up with him in the first place.
“I miss you,” Carlos muttered against your lips as you inhaled a sharp breath when he pushed your panties aside, the pads of his fingers traced over your folds. “I missed this.” 
“Carlos-”
“Missed how wet you got for me,” Carlos ignored whatever plea was about to fall from your lips as he pressed his mouth to the crook of your neck. 
You were putty in his hands, quite literally. There was nothing but quiet whimpers and strangled moans from you as he slid two fingers past your folds, both of you forgetting that your conversation ended with you trying to walk out on him.
His thumb traced over your clit, applying the slightest bit of pressure, just enough to have you arching your back as you sat perched on the edge of the counter. You felt him smirk against your skin right when he picked up the pace of his digits, curling them against your walls, so deep inside you.
You dragged your fingers through his hair, encouraging him to keep his lips on that spot just below your ear as your head fell backward. Carlos kept you upright, he supported you, he knew how helpless you were during times like these and he lived for it. 
Four months ago you would have never thought that walking out on Carlos Sainz Jr. would lead you to being finger fucked by him in the bathroom of a Barcelona club. 
He lifted his head, replacing his lips on your throat with his free hand and forcing you to look at him. You recognised the lustful stare, only growing darker as he alternated between lightly tracing your most sensitive nub and pinching it between his forefinger and thumb until your legs quivered beneath you.
Carlos attached his mouth to yours, biting down and tugging on your lower lip, the sharp pain only added to the pleasure coursing through your body. He thrusted his fingers into you with such force it had you yanking on his dark hair so hard Carlos hissed through his teeth. 
“Cum for me,” Carlos’ groan was masked with a demand. One you had no possibility of ignoring as your body reacted to him and his words. With his fingers so deep inside you, Carlos worked you through your release, slowing but not stopping as you dropped your head to his shoulder, holding him as close to you as you possibly could.
When he finally pulled his fingers out of you, you weren’t surprised when he brought them up to his lips. There was a perfectly fine sink right in front of him but Carlos would never waste an opportunity to taste you. 
He then cupped your chin, his gaze softened but you could still make out the mischievous glint. This night wasn’t over.
“Let’s get out of here.”
That’s all it took. Those five little words. The one request and you had forgotten every logical decision that had led you up to this moment. He helped you off the counter, kissing you once more before you had to leave the privacy of the bathroom and before long you found yourself walking the same route as the first night you met.
Past the dance floor, sending your friend an assuring smile, silently telling her everything was fine. Carlos led the way at first, you kept a safe distance behind him and when you walked outside there was already a car waiting out front. You climbed into the backseat alongside him, ignoring the flashes from paparazzi and the call from them asking if Carlos was back together with his ex.
You couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. From the ride to the elevator to the hallway until finally he dragged you into his hotel room, or maybe you dragged him once the door opened, you were both desperate for the other at this point.
It was hard to think rationally. In the back of your head you knew you’d have to leave in the morning before you found yourself clinging to him the way you used to, but you just wanted to enjoy the time you had now. You wanted to hold onto every beautiful sound that came from the back of his throat, each kiss he pressed to your skin, the sound of your name escaping his lips because no one would ever say your name that way he did. 
You loved him.
You loved the way he knew your body better than you did. How he had you desperate for a release in a matter of minutes, and only giving in when you begged for it. You loved the way he stretched you out, needing a second to inhale a quick breath as he slid his cock into you with little warning, deciding you were wet enough already after making you cum once in the bathroom and again on the edge of his bed with just his tongue.
You were used to his size, you had spent enough time in bed with him to know what to expect tonight but after four months your mouth still fell open and he swallowed all of your moans by pressing his lips to yours and taking all of your air out of your lungs.
Carlos wasn’t patient. Why would he be? After months without you he didn’t feel the need to wait. He found a steady pace but within minutes he had picked up his speed and hiked one of your legs up around his waist. 
That position turned into another which turned into a third and at one point during the night Carlos had you sit on top of him, staring at your own reflection in the mirror as you bounced on his cock, listening to his encouraging words and his praise while his fingers made for a beautiful necklace on your throat.
He cherished you, treating you like royalty on his sheets as you both carried the same thought, both of you knowing that you wouldn’t stay past the morning. As much as you wanted to forget that you broke up with him and as much as he wanted to pretend that you were still his, there was no denying your relationship was over. 
You loved each other, but that wasn’t enough to make up for the distance and the lost time during races and the anxiety of not being able to come home to each other at the end of the day. You loved each other, truly, but it was never enough.
Which was why when morning came, you climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb him after getting very minimal hours of sleep. You slid on the clothes you had discarded all over his room and decided that leaving without a second look would be easiest.
You had just cracked the door open when Carlos stirred in the blankets behind you. You had no choice but to turn around, to look at what you were walking away from for the second time.
He sat up in bed, the sheets draped over his lower half and his hair unruly and sexy and almost enough to make you crawl right back in next to him. 
He saw that you had redressed yourself, made yourself as presentable as you could wearing the clothes from last night. He didn’t have to ask where you were going, he just nodded to himself and let out a breath of acceptance.
You were never going to stay.
“I’m sorry,” you said, but those two little words were not the words he was hoping to hear during his short time with you. 
“No you’re not,” Carlos shook his head. He looked away from you for a second, his tongue poking out to moisten his lips. He was asking himself if last night was a mistake. It probably was.
“I don’t want to have this conversation again.”
“You’re leaving because it’s easier to walk away than to fight for what you really want.”
“I’m leaving because it’s what’s best for both of us, Carlos.” You sighed, leaning against the frame of the bedroom door. “I can’t live the life you want me to live and I’m not going to ask you to give anything up for me. We’re at a crossroad here.”
Carlos dragged his line of sight back towards you, “Even though I love you? That doesn’t make any difference?”
It makes things harder. 
You shook your head, repeating that you were sorry one more time and letting the last image of Carlos be of him dropping his head back down to the pillow before you turned around and walked out of his life once again.
August 17 2023
You practically ran to the receptionist, slamming your hands against the desk, “Carlos Sainz Jr., is he- is he here? What room is he in? Is he okay? God please tell me he’s okay-”
“Ma’am, I need you to take a breath,” the nurse was calm, she had been through this hundreds of times. Dealing with the frantic loved ones of a patient. She stood up, hand outstretched to rest over yours as she pushed the box of tissues closer to you. You grabbed one and dabbed the corner of your eyes, having been imagining the worst the entire drive over and unable to stop crying.
You didn’t even have time to question why you were still his emergency contact. You had no idea how your name and number came up in the conversation and it pained you to think that when the paramedics brought him to the hospital, the only phone number he could think to mutter was yours.
“Is he okay?” You repeated after a deep inhale. “I need to know he’s okay. The lady on the phone earlier wouldn’t tell me anything, she just said there was an accident.”
“Carlos Sainz?” The nurse asked, looking at her screen as she sat back on down. She typed on the keyboard, muttering a few things to herself until his file popped up. “He’s undergoing surgery right now, should be done soon though.”
“Surgery for what?” You asked, desperate to get information. “Is he going to be okay? He’s a racecar driver, can he still drive? Is it life threatening-”
The nurse seemed to crack a smile, “I’m familiar with his occupation, Miss. Unfortunately I am not able to give you any more information on his condition.”
You couldn’t tell if the whole confidentiality act was because of his fame or because she really had no idea how he was doing. Regardless, the not knowing stressed you out beyond relief and you tried for a few more minutes, pestering for answers, until finally she told you that the only option for you was to sit and wait.
So you did. Foot tapping against the tiled floor. You thought about calling his parents or his sister but last you saw from social media, his sister was somewhere in Greece and you had absolutely no way of contacting his parents as you weren’t with Carlos long enough to get their contact information. 
It was just you in the hospital waiting room, nervously watching the minute hand on the clock go around way too damn slow. Every time a doctor or another nurse entered the room, your heart dropped in anticipation, but none of them were there to keep you informed.
Twenty minutes went by with no news, and in hindsight, that really wasn’t that long of a waiting period. But it felt like an eternity, not knowing. Left drawing your own conclusions, your own terrible scenarios. 
When a doctor did finally emerge from the swinging doors, he stared down at his clipboard before approaching the nurse behind the reception desk. You watched them interact, of course you did, you needed to know if he was Carlos’ doctor.
When he walked over to you, a tight smile on his lips, you stood up instantly.
“You must be here for Carlos,” he said, holding out his hand for you to shake with not nearly enough strength you wished you had. “I’m Dr. Alejo.”
“Hi,” You tried to glance at the clipboard tucked under his arm but you wouldn’t understand anything anyway. “Is he-”
Dr. Alejo nodded and you felt as though you could breathe when his smile grew even just the slightest bit. 
“He’s fine,” He assured you. “A few broken ribs that will heal on their own, a fracture of his left wrist that required surgery and some severe bruising along his abdomen, but no internal bleeding to be concerned about. He’s okay.” Dr. Alejo scratched his jaw, “Might not be able to finish the season, but I think he’s just happy to be able to walk away from this accident.”
He nodded his head towards the doors that separated the patients from the waiting room, leading you through them and down the hall as he flipped through the papers on the clipboard. 
“It was a car accident?” You asked. “How? What even happened?” It was hard to believe that a professional racing driver would get into something so mundane as a car accident. During the break of the Formula 1 season.
“I believe the other driver was distracted,” Dr. Alejo answered. “I don’t have much more information than that as he wasn’t my patient, but he’s also okay. I think still in surgery, but both drivers are extremely fortunate in this scenario.”
He stopped in front of a room where the door was slightly ajar. Carlos’ name was written on the board outside of it and you asked for permission before going inside. The doctor nodded and allowed you in by yourself, instructing you to be gentle as he had just come from surgery.
You walked in, not prepared for the sight of Carlos on the bed with IV tubes sticking out of his wrist. His entire rib cage and abdomen was bandaged up and you could see hints of bruising on his legs and arms, aside from where the cast on his left wrist was covering them. There were minor marks on his face as well, cuts from the broken windshield, more bruising, everything that made you ache for him.
His eyes were closed so he didn’t see you slowly make your way to his bedside, sitting on the side that seemed to have less injury. You scanned over him, taking in the damages to his body and you didn’t think twice before raising your hand to brush a few strands of hair off his forehead. 
You hadn’t seen him in a few months, not since you left his hotel room. 
Part of you expected that you’d run into each again, you’d always been drawn to Carlos, but you never would have imagined this. 
You didn’t even know he was home.
Hesitantly, you took his hand in yours, thumb tracing over the few inches of skin that weren’t littered with dark bruises. You felt his fingers twitch in your grasp and you glanced up in time to see his eyelids flutter open.
“Hi,” you whispered, expecting to have to explain yourself. Carlos most definitely did not expect to get into any sort of accident today, let alone see his ex-girlfriend who walked out on him twice. Obviously there was some explaining to do.
But he only turned his palm upwards to interlock your fingers together, careful of the IV tubing. He tried to shift on the bed, only to grimace in pain and you inhaled a breath, worried for him.
“Just-” you swallowed, fighting the urge to put your hand to his chest like you would normally do if you just wanted him to sit. “Just take it easy, okay?”
Carlos nodded, glancing down at your hands and then at the cast on his wrist and then sighing with deep despair as he took in the bandages wrapped around his body. 
“Not like I had a shot at the championship anyway,” he joked, already thinking about the last half of the season. 
You didn’t want to laugh. Nothing about him sitting in a hospital bed was funny, but it was no surprise he was thinking about Formula 1. He was a driver, racing was in his blood. 
So you just cracked a hint of a smile and tried to change the topic to something else, something more pressing.
“I didn’t know you were back in Madrid.”
Carlos paused, “I just got in today.”
Your brows pinched together, “What do you mean? Didn’t your break start two weeks ago?”
“I was in Italy, for a bit,” he told you, his thumb brushing over yours. “But I didn’t want to be there. All I wanted was to come home. All I wanted was to see you.”
Your heart sank deep into your chest, “Don’t tell me you got into a car accident when you were on the way to my place.”
“Then I won’t tell you.”
“Carlos,” You wanted to scold him, really. You had broken up, he didn’t need to come see you. If he had just stayed in Italy, if he hadn’t decided he needed to see you, he’d be fine and not laying with limited motion in a hospital bed. You were the reason he ended up here.
He always said you’d be the death of him.
“I love you,” Carlos said, sounding more sure of his own words than he ever had before. “I love you, and I don’t care if you walk out on me every time I say it because I’m just going to follow you. I made a mistake the first time, letting you leave. I made it again in Barcelona and I’m not doing that anymore, I’m not going anywhere, hermosa and if I do, I’ll always come home to you.” 
You had thought you were all cried out, having tears stream down your face the entire drive to the hospital as you thought about your relationship with Carlos. The good, the bad, everything in between. You cried thinking you’d never get a chance to create another memory with him. You were distraught, wanting to scream into the abyss because even if you weren’t with Carlos, you couldn’t imagine a life without him.
You loved him.
You always had. You always will.
And you weren’t going to go another second with him thinking his feelings weren’t reciprocated. 
A single tear fell down your cheek as you locked eyes with him, the only person in your life you would ever give your heart to and know, without doubt, that he would give his back in return.
“I love you,” you finally told him, the biggest weight lifted off your chest, one that had been dragging you down for months. “I love you, Carlos, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I love you when I knew I did. I'm sorry it took this for me to tell you. I'm so sorry, I love you, I love you-”
You moved closer to him, dropping your head to rest against his after you kissed his temple, quietly repeating that you loved him over and over again. You placed your hand against his cheek, holding Carlos against you and he covered your hand with his, not wanting to let go.
He’d let you go one two many times and he wasn’t going to make that mistake again.
And you wouldn’t give him a reason to. 
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