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notjustjavierpena · 24 days

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4AM (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: A little peek into Hubby’s mind. I’m working on a longer piece but here’s a taste for the starving.

Summary: Javier reflects on fatherhood while comforting his son.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: Domestic, Javier loves his family, Javi POV, life with a tiny baby!!

Word count: 1.5k

4AM

It’s like clockwork when Lucas’ cries start echoing through the hallway in the early hours. Four in the morning and no sooner or later. You could set an alarm to wake you up at this point but each time there’s the slightest hope that it’s going to be at five the next time.

You wake first. A moment later, you hear Javier wake up beside you with a sharp intake of air. He rubs his eyes with his thumb and index finger, “Whose turn is it?”

“It’s four a.m. He’s probably hungry,” you say with a groan and try desperately not to let your eyes close for too long, “Jesus, I’m tired.”

Lucas sounds desperate with how he sobs, hiccupping unhappily at not feeling either of you close yet. You feel bad for not having left your bed already, reaching for the covers to throw them to the side. Javier looks like he is just about to turn onto his other side but he sits up instead, “Let me. You just go back to sleep, baby. I’ll heat a bottle or bring him here if he’s hungry.”

He swings his legs out over the side of the bed, his movements slow with the kind of sleepiness that only comes from not waking up by oneself but rather being woken up by something or someone.

“Javi,” you try to protest.

“I mean it. Go back to sleep,” he stands up with a small noise, shuffling out of the room and down the hallway to avoid more protests from you. He works so much and you stay here with his infant son all day; it’s the least he can do. Plus, he wants to get all the quality time with his baby boy that he can, even when he’s miserable from sleep deprivation.

He stops and takes a deep breath right before pushing the door to Lucas’ nursery fully open. There’s a soft glow from the night light by the bed, a lamp shaped like a half-moon that shines a golden yellow over the crib to soothe.

“Hola, mi amor (hello, my love),” he says when he leans over the side of the crib to look down at his wailing son. Lucas’ hair is dark and tousled much like his own, his eyes are big and brown but right now, his face is also tear-streaked and red from exhaustion to the point where it tugs at Javier’s heartstrings. He shushes gently as he scoops his infant into his hands with practiced ease, holding underneath his arms and supporting his head with his fingers. He bounces gently when he has Lucas cradled against his bare chest. In his head, Javier goes through his usual checklist to make the crying stop but he finds that his son is neither hungry, gassy, or in need of a diaper change. He tuts softly and paces the room to make him settle.

“Did you have a nightmare?” He asks when the wails subside and turn into soft whimpering instead. The tiny hands on his chest curl up and as the sobbing stops, Lucas seems to find comfort in the familiar scent and warmth of his father. Javier kisses the top of his head, speaking gently while still bouncing carefully, “Don’t worry, I get those too sometimes but your mamá is right there with me when I do just like I am here with you. You’re always safe with us.”

Javier is floored each time he manages to soothe his baby boy. It’s a reminder that he is doing a great job despite all the doubts he had during your pregnancy, the introspection, and the constant fear that your softness hadn’t changed him enough after Colombia to be a good father.

It seems so long ago since he was living an adrenaline-fuelled and cruel life miles away from the quiet suburban life he now leads in Texas. Sometimes, he even feels like everything that happened in Colombia are experiences that belong to a whole different person. This is even if there are still nights when he wakes up in a cold sweat, his whole body aching, feeling claustrophobic, and his poor old heart racing with memories of the things he's seen and done.

The hope of everything that he has with you had always existed beneath the layer of women and booze but Lucas is the true reason for letting go of his past. He doesn’t think he has ever felt so much fulfillment in anything until he held the tiny little boy against his chest for the first time and a nurse told him that he was a natural. He sobbed when you had gone to sleep, leaving him alone with your shared creation and he just couldn’t take his eyes off him. He doesn’t think he ever thought that his heart was capable of feeling so much unconditional love for anything. He still marvels at how his chest aches every time he looks into his son’s eyes.

Lucas has drifted off to sleep in his arms by now, breaths having slowed down and eyes having fluttered closed. Javier paces around the room for a few more minutes just to make sure, and then he walks back to the bassinet and gently lays the baby down on his back.

However, as soon as Lucas loses the warmth of his father’s embrace, his eyes shoot open and the crying restarts. He writhes and hiccups and kicks the blanket off.

Javier sighs softly but there’s a smile on his face as he does it. He picks him up once again and the routine starts over, “So that’s what you needed, huh? No llores. Estoy aquí. No voy a ningún lado (Don’t cry. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere)."

He is so tired as he promises this, eyelids burning from exhaustion when knows he doesn’t have to be up for another three hours and they could be spent on sleeping. It doesn’t reflect what he wants though because sleep is nothing compared to hearing those cries ebb out until they stop altogether. He feels triumphant each time.

He walks to the corner of the room where an old and slightly weathered rocking chair stands. It used to be in his father’s home, more specifically on the back porch, but he received it as a gift after his pop found out he was going to be a grandfather.

He slowly lowers himself into it. The gentle motion back and forth has Lucas falling asleep once again. Javier can feel his chest rise and fall in time with his son’s and it’s so soothing that he allows himself to relax. He closes his eyes, becomes aware of their synchronized heartbeats, and then passes out with the little bundle on top of him.

In your bedroom, you wake up an hour later to pee only to find that Javier still hasn’t returned after getting up. You concentrate on listening for your baby’s cries but there is nothing to be heard. After going to the bathroom, your feet take you down the hall and into the nursery just in case Javier needs you to take over rocking your son for a while.

You find them both fast asleep and it is a relief that there’s no distress after all. It makes you smile to see them like this, looking so alike despite the age difference between them. Tiptoeing across the floor to gently place a hand on Javier’s shoulder, you wake up your husband with the intention of not disturbing your son. He stirs at your touch and looks up at you with tired but content eyes.

“Looks like you both fell asleep,” you whisper to him gently. Absent-mindedly, you stroke your hand up and down Lucas’ back.

“I didn’t mean to,” Javier blinks sleepily, reaching up with one hand to rub his eye, “Seems like he didn’t need anything.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s not true,” you cut him off with a shake of your head and a soft laugh, “He needed you.”

There’s a pause. Javier almost looks like he might drift off again. You carefully lift Lucas from his arms, “Let’s get you back to bed. Both of you.”

You lay Lucas back in his bassinet, rubbing his belly with the palm of your hand before tucking the blankets around him snugly. He stirs but only briefly and then settles back into a peaceful slumber, his tiny fingers curling around the edge of his covers.

Behind you, Javier has gotten up from his seat. You turn to him and wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you both stand there in the soft glow of the nursery. It goes on for a minute or so, none of you saying anything.

Together, you quietly leave the room. In bed, Javier holds you protectively in his embrace during the last few hours he has with you. He leans to kiss your lips tenderly, “Te quiero tanto, baby (I love you so much, baby).”

“Y yo a ti (I love you too),” you reply and earn him squeezing you even tighter, “Para siempre (forever).”

Being a first-time parent is hard, you know this, but it’s not as hard when four a.m. I love yous are involved.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

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failbettergames · 3 months

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You dream of rain. You dream that the ink that is your flesh is running off the page, smeared into dark rivulets on the vellum. When you wake, you can still feel a stiffness in your back; as if your spine is being held tautly by yarn.

In the dark of the cabin, your mind enumerates sensations as your eyes adjust: The sway of the gondola. The vibration from the engine in the starboard nacelle above you, rattling slightly – still no replacement for the broken fuel intake.

The noise of water rapping against a porthole window.

Hello, delicious friends. It appears that time, very disrespectfully, has chosen to march on until it is very nearly April. The time has come to talk about our major future plans for Fallen London.

A new major storyline

Firmament is Fallen London’s next major expansion, a main story arc that adds on to the game’s ongoing progression. Acquire an airship – permanently, this time. Fly to the Roof. Explore the stalactite fields ruled by the Starved Men, the carved paths of the Moon-MIsers, the inverted jungles of the Antipelago, and more.

This expansion focuses on the Roof. Just like the unterzee gets stranger and darker as you zail away from familiar shores, so do the upper airs of the Neath contain more than what you know about. As these castles on the ceiling open to you, you will learn more.

Firmament will launch over the course of April, with a prologue becoming available on April 11th, and the full first chapter on April 18th.

While Firmament is in some ways a follow-up to the Railway storyline, we are aware of how long it takes to get to the very end of the game’s (current) highest-level story. When Firmament launches, you will be able to start it as long as you have already begun the Railway storyline and reached Ealing. While you will need to advance your railway further to access the latter parts of Firmament, there should be ample time to catch up on the Railway in between Firmament chapters.

New mechanics

The Railway arc added new advanced skills. During the Zeefarer cycle we added revamped Zee travel and the new Boon/Burden mechanic. This set of updates comes with its own mechanical expansions to the game.

New item slots

Airships make their return as full-fledged items. Much like zeefaring ships, they serve you mostly in air travel – Aerial Prowess and Aerial Armament also make their return. But we’re also adding a few other item slots, while we’re at it.

Adornment includes all manner of jewellery and accessories – rings, necklaces, earrings, neckties, brooches, and more. Previously, items in this vein would appear in slots like Gloves or Clothing, leading to the somewhat odd mental image of wearing your Pendant of Helicon Amber and nothing else. With this update, these items gain their own space, enabling more player expression and empowering players to reach slightly higher stats.

Several existing items will be shifted to the Adornment slot, slightly buffing them by allowing them to stack with other existing items. Adornment is intended to be a part of the game from relatively early on – around the later parts of Making Your Name. A new Bazaar store, selling Adornments, will be added in a future update.

Crew is a complement to both ships and airships. We’ve long wanted to give ship crews (distinct from the vessels themselves) a bit more personality. Are they experienced or green? Are they Admiralty men through and through, or a band of privateers and villains? These kinds of concepts never really fit the Companion or Affiliation slots, so we are creating a purposeful slot for them.

Crews will be made available in a future update, initially accessible to players who have a ship.

Luggage may seem like a slightly odd addition, but so much of Fallen London, and Victorian fiction in general, is about travel and the mystique of travel. A battered steamer trunk that’s been everywhere. A briefcase full of secrets. Phileas Fogg’s carpetbag. Luggage is intended as a midgame slot. In a future update, you will be able to assemble some initial Luggage items in the Bazaar Side-Streets.

New Skills

We are conscious of not adding too much complexity to the game, especially not all at once. Firmament doesn’t add a full suite of new skills, like the Railway. It adds one new skill, and two new qualities of a somewhat skill-like nature.

Chthonosophy, the study of the root of things, has already been teased – but you’ve not really been able to obtain it, thus far. It is the major new skill for Firmament, playing a role similar to the role Zeefaring had in Evolution.

Inerrant and Insubstantial join Neathproofed as its two other counterparts. Like Neathproofed, these will appear more as additive benefits; they help your checks with other skills, more so than being checked in themselves. They exist to add a little extra, to help differentiate otherwise-similar items, and to act as an occasional bonus. As part of Firmament, we are pushing to make more use of Neathproofed, and carve out that space for its new counterparts, also.

Roof Travel

I won’t go into too many details about Roof travel, other than to set expectations. Yes, there is a new map. No, Roof travel is not quite a fully-fledged activity like zailing is.

We aimed it at a sort of middle ground between Railway travel (which is convenient and fairly predictable) and Zee travel (which is a whole venture unto itself.) Traveling from point to point on the Roof mostly takes one action; very occasionally, two. But it is drastically more variable than rail travel. There’s a broad variety of different things you can encounter in the upper airs of the Neath. And as you progress this storyline, you will encounter stranger things as you travel through the air.

And other delights…

Of course, we have other things planned for the rest of 2024. Our usual festivals will run as usual. A new Estival. Monthly Exceptional Stories. Various other surprises, including a series of more grounded new stories set in London. But we’ll talk about these things in detail sometime after Whitsun, which should take place, as usual, in May.

#fallen london #firmament

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astrid-sorensen · 1 year

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Did I hurt you? Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 1,115

Genre: Hurt + comfort, angst, some smut

Warnings: sex, injury detail caused by a human, no use of y/n, rushed ending

MASTERLIST

When you and Joel spend the night secluded on patrol, Joel is in for a surprise when he finds out just how rough he can be.

･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ⋆｡°✩･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

Snow littered across the hillside, you and Joel were saddled at the ready as you left the lookout. An vacation cabin now old and forlorn. Brisk dawn had cracked along the clouds, your journey back to the commune just beginning after a short stay there on patrol.

You and Joel had been partnered up for a year or so now, exchanges growing more and more, little by little. Companionship cultivated naturally until you both began to feel something more between the lines. Something tender. Something innocent. It was measured initially, quick 'how are yous?' And 'don't walk too far.'s.

But soon enough it evolved, lengthy nights camping up in the former main lounge. Talking about anything and everything. Secrets you'd never even admit to yourself, coming to the surface and pooling into the cold idle air.

Your body would be wrapped tightly in your sleeping bag as rum you'd shared earlier, the embers still crackling at your insides.

Except, last night was unlike anything you've done before. Lust overpowered your sweet conversation. A quick run in to some desolate clickers, made you see Joel unlike anything else before.

Quick, get behind me now.

The words still echoed through your mind. His muscular limbs shoving you behind him whilst he aimed and fired. Two swift bullets in each.

Joel had a protective nature, not just in his size and strength, but in his biology too. Although he had never been this demanding, never this assertive when it came to keeping you safe. You were conscious something had metamorphosed.

After setting up for the night and shotting a few gulps of the harsh, firey liquor, Joel was on you. His frame trapped you beneath him his fingertips holding your hips still as he grinded passionately against you. He was needy, desperate and completely love-drunk. His cold lips dragging across your own, to your jaw, neck and then breasts. There was no question in what he was after. Frantic, wet thrusts of his hips down into you, the only thing separating you from the icy cold air that filled the room all the way to the high ceilings was Joel's searing body. Your hands locked into the messy ash strands that covered his head, begging for more.

After your long trek back to base, you and Joel rolled in for the night. Choosing to go back to his for some hot food and a quick shower. Ellie now fast asleep in her room across the hall. Your routine was always the same, you washed first then Joel. You now lay spread across Joel's chest, with the body Joel had grew to know the past few weeks. Joel's hand washed over your side, a sharp intake of air shot through the gaps in your teeth as you winced. Joel's face hardened, his lines deepening. Before you could say anything else, he lifted your old cotton shirt to expose the flesh.

Blotches of purple and blue littered the wounded skin of your hips. A few stray ones covered your arms and waist. Handles for Joel last night as he ploughed his hips into yours. Not leaving room to breathe as his wet trusts became sloppier. The clap of your flesh on each other echoing out through the Jackson lookout.

Joel eyes stopped at the scores and impressions he had left.

"Fuck,"

You shook you head with a smile smile, no. His hands still pulled off you, as if he had touched something boiling hot.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" He searched you face for something, anything. But you just looked back indifferent, offering a small curl on the corner of your lips.

"No, no, it was amazing. I mean for my first time, I can't imagine it being any better."

"Y-Your?" Joel got up, pulling on his jacket that he'd thrown across the floor after coming in the warm Jackson home. Silence graced the house, nothing except the short huffs of the 50 year old.

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk."

"Okay lemme come with you." You interjected but the sentiment was not returned.

"No." Joel shot back. “I wanna go alone."

"Are you mad at me?"

"It's not you." His footsteps didn’t halt, sifting through the garments left on the floor for the ones he had on earlier.

"Joel, c'mon."

"Are you serious right now?" His icy stare froze you to your core, you’d seen him furious before, but never directed towards you. His southern accent laced with malice.

"Joel," you tried, tone soft as if it would somehow calm him down. His deep scowl not wavering.

"Why didn't you tell me?” He quizzed, gingerly.

"I just, "

"You told me we didn't have any secrets." His deep chocolate irises looking at you delicately as they bore into your own, leaden ones.

“I was embarrassed. Joel, I'm sorry. Please don’t go.”

His head tipped back, a deep sigh leaving his nostrils. You knew his was just building the courage to leave. He hated when you would beg him. Almost never able to not comply to your request.

"Settle down, Baby." Joel shifted to face you.

“I'll sleep on the couch. I'll give you space. Anything." The words tumbled off your tongue like a spell.

"I'm not go gonna go anywhere. M'sorry I woulda never let it happen like that if I knew it was your first time." Joel sat beside you on the bed, pulling your bare legs over his lap. The rough pads of his fingers, slid back and forth along your leg.

“I shoulda taken my time, got you really comfortable. Woulda been on a bed for a start, not on some fucking floor in the middle of nowhere." Joel turned his head, shaking it in disbelief.

"Joel, it's okay. It's what I wanted."

"You don't know what you wanted. You ain't never done it before then.” His words sharp and annoyed.

"I know. But I know I wanted you." Your hand moved to hold his bicep, the muscle naturally flexing beneath you light grip.

“No more goddamn secrets. Got it?" He appearance was stern, but his big loving eyes were otherwise. There was alway warmth in those golden orbs.

"Yes Joel."

You grabbed a pillow hopping off the bed.

"Mmm, mmm." The male hummed, grabbing you by your wrist and halting your movements. You turned back eyes wide with surprise. "You think I'm gonna take a girls virginity and then make her sleep on the couch?" He inquired, amazed. “What kinda man do you take me for?" He smiled out softly. He moved you over to the bed, turning off the bedside lamp before getting under the covers, the other side.

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iheartuwu · 4 months

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fuck it, i love you — leon s. kennedy

tags. afab!reader, fwb dynamic, (brief) smut wc. 0.5k

Leon Kennedy quietly concludes that he should shut the fuck up for the rest of his life. He knows that whatever happens from this point on, there’s no bullshitting his way through the uncomfortable stench of truth that’s begun to permeate the air.

Through panting breaths and half lidded eyes you watch him tug the covers over your bodies the way he always does when you’re finished, but this time he avoids any additional contact, careful not to touch you as he shifts away from you. His head hits the cold pillow, tight lipped and tense, a hand rising to rub drowsily at his face. No playful remarks on his performance. No peppered kisses. Not even a goodnight. You try not to let this bother you, but it does.

Leon feels you watching him and his skin starts to itch with unease. His gaze is fixed on the ceiling, grateful for the darkness that deprives your sights of further examining him. His mind is racing. Fuck off to some foreign country or place in need of his handgun because there’s always somewhere he can be sent. Or, bury himself in paperwork, the endless pile is already waiting for him at the office. Anything to keep him busy and out of reach. Anything that frees you from him. Both solid plans, truly. Emergency escapes have always been his forte. He can already sense you slipping away from him, can already feel himself becoming a distant memory to you. Can already hear the speech you’ll give him, the delicate cadence of your voice infesting his mind in soft echoes. You’re probably reciting it already in your head right now, going over the main points slathered with verbal softeners you’ll apply when you tell him you don’t reciprocate. You were always better with words than he ever was anyway. Nicer, too. At least there’s the comfort in knowing you’ll let him off easy.

Understandably, silence consumes you. It’s strange how quiet the room has become, how a moment ago the sounds of your moans and the skin to skin contact filled the room, the lingering memory still fresh in your mind. How he cupped your cheek with a softness that was so unfamiliar to him it made his fingers tremble as he pressed his lips to your forehead, your warmed skin responsive to every touch. The weight of his body on top of yours, the way his thrusts become less calculated when he’s about to cum and—

“I love you.” He says.

His lips crashing into yours before you could even register the words that hung in the air. His kiss: hot, needy, overwhelming, desperate to cease any space that existed between you, soothed by the whimpers that fled your tongue. Nails raking across his back as you clenched around him.

Cowardice settles in the pit of your stomach and crawls its way to barricade your throat. You swallow it away, shift yourself under the covers to nestle against him, feel his tense muscles flare when your hand plants onto his chest. You can feel his heartbeat pump beneath your palm, can hear the intake of his breath as you draw closer to rest your head on his shoulder. You can hardly hear yourself speak when you do.

“I love you too, Leon.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy drabble

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spikingtheodds-if · 10 months

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Time seemed to slow down as your muscles coiled, every fiber of your being honed in on that one moment. As the ball reached its apex, you launched yourself into the air, a burst of controlled power. Your arm swung back, and with a thunderous crack, your hand connected with the ball. You could almost hear the collective intake of breath from the crowd. The ball rocketed downward, a streak of white lightning aimed unerringly for the opposing court. The ball hit the floor with a triumphant thud, a resounding echo of victory. In that fleeting instant, you felt invincible. And you were.

Is there a better match than you and volleyball?

You, arguably the most promising spiker of your generation, led your highschool team to victory by winning against your ex-bestfriend slash rival, Nikita.

You couldn't believe you won a volleyball scholarship for the university of your dreams; and maybe you were right not to. An anonymous source convinced the university that you partook in doping and steroid use, which led them to drop you.

With no options left due to the allegations, you decided to accept a scholarship to a minor university with an unknown and lacking volleyball club, the Boarwood Titans. What's worse is that you are now forced to become a battery with your childhood rival, Nikita being the setter and you the spiker.

Can you work together with your rival to lead your team to the victor? Or will hate prevail? And will you find out who really spread the rumors against you?

A fully customisable main character, including gender, pronouns, personality, looks, jersey number, playing style, and many more!

Choices that impact the story throughout, including your team's ranking and dynamic, your reputation as a spiker, your grades, your fame, and more.

Choose between 7 romance options - figure out the love/hate relationship with your rival, fall in love with your childhood best -friend, fall back in love with your ex, the coach's child, a dedicated supporter, a mysterious med student, and the team's ex-spiker whose place you took.

Solve a mystery: who is the anonymous source hellbent on ruining your dreams?

Content suitable for 18+ readers, such as sexual themes, substance (steroids, drugs and alcohol) use, explicit language and themes, and violence.

Nikita Raymond [RO, F/M/NB]: Once your training buddy and now your rival, you wonder if the infamous "Tiger" is the one behind the allegations.There is no place for love between you two. They hate you as much as you hate them; but you'll have to to put that aside if you want to win. Can you?

Klaus/Klara Padel [RO, F/M/NB]: A stern and strict figure in your team, they're especially wary of you ever since you took their spot as a spiker. They've since made it their personal goal to make your stay at the university a living hell. They want to get their spot back, and they've got the motivation. Part of them hopes you'll be able to impress them and show them you deserve their spot, but until then, you'll have to suffer.

Jeremiah/Jerilynn Blake [RO, FtM/MtF]: The team's sweetheart, they're loved by everybody, and for a good reason. Always sporting a smile on their face and snacks in their hand, they quickly become one of your closest friends at Boarwood University.

Bree [RO, F/M/NB]: Your best-friend and setter in your previous team. They quit volleyball but still enrolled at Boarwood to be with you. A constant in your life since you were little, you'll find that Nikita's presence will create tension between you two. What's really going on between them?

Andrea Michelle [RO, F/M/NB]: Despite being the Boarwood Titans' most dedicated supporter, their stoic and hot-and-cold behaviour confuses you. They take an interest in you, only to ignore you for days. What's really up with this mysterious med student?

Angelina/Angelo Shasco [RO, F/M/NB]: Your charming ex. Things get messy when you find out your least favourite ex is at Boarwood, and they seem dedicated to not making you forget the past you had, and not in a positive way. Oh boy, spotting them at one of your games might cause either the win of the century or your life's biggest blunder.

Meet a wide cast of characters, including your classmates, teammates, opponents, and more!

-monaco & clessidra <3

#interactive fiction #interactive novel #if #interact-if #interactive game #choice of games #cog game #if wip #cog #dashingdon #interactive fiction wip #hosted game #volleyball #interactive story

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wheelsgoroundincircles · 8 days

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1958 Chevrolet Corvette

This 1958 Chevrolet Corvette underwent a pro-street-style metamorphosis between 2008 and 2011. It is endowed with a 383 cubic inch stroker V8 engine, harmonized with a TH350 three-speed automatic transmission, and a narrowed rear axle featuring a limited-slip differential. The rear suspension has been upgraded with a ladder-bar configuration, adjustable coilovers, and the addition of a lift-off hood. The body, painted a striking red with white coves, comes with a detachable hardtop. Inside, a roll cage has been installed along with a B&M Pro Stick shifter, a shift light, aftermarket gauges, and black Procar bucket seats. The enhancements also include dual Edelbrock carburetors, Hooker headers, side-exit exhaust pipes, 15” alloy wheels, and front disc brakes. Acquired by the current dealer in February 2024, this modified C1 Corvette is now part of the Coffee Walk Corvette Collection in Wylie, Texas, and is offered without reserve, complete with build records and a clean Pennsylvania title.

1958 Chevrolet Corvette

The fiberglass exterior is adorned in red with white coves and includes a removable hardtop and a lift-off hood with an integrated air scoop. A Stewart-Warner fuel-pressure gauge is mounted on the cowl, and the right-rear corner features a battery cutoff switch and external terminals. The gallery reveals cracks in the weatherstripping, pitted chrome, and paint imperfections.

1958 Chevrolet Corvette

Polished 15” alloy wheels are shod with 25.0×5.0” front and 29.5×11.5” rear Hoosier drag tires, installed in April 2024. A crossmember supports the rear suspension, which has been modified with ladder bars, a diagonal link, and adjustable coilovers. The braking system includes front disc brakes and rear drums.

1958 Chevrolet Corvette

The interior is equipped with a roll cage and Procar high-back bucket seats in black. Enhancements include a B&M Pro Stick shifter, an MSD shift light, rocker-switch controls, and fabricated metal door panels. The gallery displays flaking paint and wear on interior surfaces.

1958 Chevrolet Corvette

The three-spoke steering wheel is positioned in front of a 160-mph speedometer and auxiliary gauges. An AutoMeter pedestal tachometer is mounted atop the non-functional factory tachometer. Additional gauges for coolant temperature and oil pressure are located in the center console. The mechanical odometer is inoperative, and the total mileage remains unknown.

1958 Chevrolet Corvette

A Harwood plastic fuel cell is mounted in the trunk, which has been tubbed with fabricated aluminum panels to accommodate the rear wheels.

1958 Chevrolet Corvette

The 350ci V8 engine block, bored and stroked to 383ci, features four-bolt main bearings. The build includes forged pistons, ARP fasteners, a polished Edelbrock intake manifold, dual Edelbrock carburetors, an MSD ignition module, and Hooker long-tube headers that flow into side-exit exhaust pipes.

1958 Chevrolet Corvette

Power is transmitted to the rear wheels through a TH350 three-speed automatic transmission and a narrowed Dana 60 rear axle with a limited-slip differential.

1958 Chevrolet Corvette

#chevrolet corvette #chevrolet #corvette #car #cars #muscle car #american muscle

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covetyou · 3 months

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some good friend - pt. 1

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3

pairing: Tim Rockford x Soft Dom!Sex Worker!f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: pegging, anal fingering, praise kink, mild glove kink, very mild feminization, masturbation, Tim has body image issues and a bit of an identity crisis, kind of coming untouched, sex work, comfort word count: 7k summary: Nerves were coiling in his belly in a way they typically only did at the end of a big case. There was no judge or jury here, no sentence, no surprise acquittal. There was just your door, and the promise of everything that lay beyond it. And it made him nervous.

A/N: finally, my boy Tim sees the light of day. I've been working on this for a while, and it's been nice to try something a little different. I hope you like it (and someone, anyone, please, stop me from making this a 3 part series too late, it's going to be a series)

divider by @saradika-graphics follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

Everything burns. His lungs, his legs, his goddamned feet.

He wasn't made for this. Not any more. His fucking shoes definitely weren't made for this - a fact made more and more obvious with every harsh, sharp, slap of his soles against the ground. Gone were the days of intense foot chases. They'd long since been replaced with hours spent at his desk, in interview rooms, searching the stacks in the archive room. The only saving grace was at the very least he was accustomed to low light - the dimly lit rooms he frequented coming in handy now as he thuds along in the semi-darkness, chasing after someone who is more shadow than man.

The drizzle of a cold October day certainly isn't helping either. He's coated in a fine mist of rain and soaked through to the marrow. His shoes - these fucking shoes - skid on the wet road, threatening injury with each turn of a corner. Every intake of breath blooms pain in his chest, each gasp seeming to draw in more water than air. That is, of course, if the biting chill of the wind doesn't swipe it all out of his mouth first.

He's drowning. Drowning and suffocating and burning all in one, but he can't stop. He can't will his legs to stop, even through the burn. Stopping means he loses, and he cannot lose. Not again. Not with this case.

But then, he turns a corner and the shadow is gone, faded into the darkness of an unlit alley, and out of his grasp once again.

Shit.

The ache is settled well into his bones by the time he gets home in the early hours of the morning. His tie sits damp in his jacket pocket - discarded at the roadside in a fit of rage and stomped into the wet ground, only to be picked up and pocketed a moment later. He liked that tie. His holsters tug uncomfortably at his shoulders, the twist of his body as he was running having shifted them to where they now pinch uncomfortably at his underarms. He can't wait to discard it all, to take off the whole damn lot - and these fucking shoes - and pretend for just one moment that he's not who he is.

So, he begins to shed the skin of Detective Tim Rockford.

The shoes go first. The jacket second. And then he removes his gun, stashing it in its case where it belongs and throwing his holster at his closet, where he'll no doubt struggle to find it again tomorrow. The burning sear of a shower is the last thing left to rid himself of the title that hangs over him, but instead he walks to his office. He needs to be Detective for just a moment longer.

It's tidier and more comfortable in here than it has any right to be. Dark wood, soft leather, neat folders, and blank papers. Of course, it's neat because he's rarely here to use it, preferring to use the space given to him downtown where a plaque sits on his desk telling all and sundry that Detective Tim Rockford works here. Here, in this room, he can be a little less Detective and a little more him.

He flops heavily into his chair, a move he immediately regrets when he feels the relief of taking the weight off his feet. How he'll ever get up from here, he doesn't know. Maybe he'll sleep here. Halfway between Detective and himself, stuck in some weird limbo where he is both and neither all at once. That'll lead to some good dreams.

Tim thinks of you. This was the place for that kind of thing, after all. This office where he is himself and someone else, the perfect parts of a person to be liaising with someone like you. Because that's what it was with you, a liaison. Nothing more, nothing less. And you, everything that you were, were his last chance for some good news before he peeled back the rest of the Detective and became himself for a few blissful hours.

Pulling a card from a drawer, he flips it in his fingers once, then twice before tapping it on his desk. You'd given it to him on his last visit - your address and number emblazoned on the front, both things he no longer needed to see to know, and a small list of services on the other side. Services that he ignored when you'd first pointed them out to him with a wink, but that he'd since spent a long time mulling over and, on occasion, searching in an incognito window of his browser.

With a heavy sigh, he picks up the phone, dialing your number from memory, and waits for you to pick up. Anyone else would be furious with a 4am phonecall, but not you. For a while he thought it was what suited your work best - common sense, and his years on the job, had taught him that illicit activities so often were better suited to darkness than daylight. But he'd seen clients leave your studio in the middle of the day on more than one occasion. No, by this point he simply suspected you didn't sleep at all.

A click of the call connecting, a soft breath down through the line, and there you are, the lilt of your voice ringing through his ear like music.

"Detective Rockford, how nice of you to call. What can I interest you in this fine morning?"

He pinches his nose, card still gripped tightly between his middle fingers. You did this every time, no matter the time of day or night. You were always on, always ready to try to rile him and get into his bloodstream. He'd admonished you once, told you he was only trying to do his job and he expected you to do the same. When you told him you were doing your job, Tim had to admit you got him there. You were both professionals, just in very, very different ways. From then on, he'd learned to appreciate it. Even if it did make him ache sometimes in ways he thought best to ignore.

"You got any news for me?"

You scoff down the phone. A light sound, but he can picture you rolling your eyes with it anyway. "Always so charming, Detective. Diving straight in without any foreplay at all. You can do better than that. Sweeten me up a little before you -"

"Please."

He sounds desperate in a way you haven't heard before. A year into your arrangement and he'd never sounded so bone tired and stressed out. You can even hear the pinch in his brow over the phone, the wrinkles there getting deeper and deeper the longer you knew him.

"It's been quiet, Detective. I doubt I have the names you're after, but a few whispers have been floating around. The case with the cat still causing you problems?"

From the heavy sigh he gives you can tell it's not what he was after, but that it is, indeed, still causing him problems.

"Well, I heard that..."

And so, you divulge your secrets, secrets that aren't really yours to have or to give, but you give them anyway. Whispers and names softly delivered down the phone line where he scribbles them down on a blank sheet of paper, careful not to indent the pages below it.

The pen clatters to the desk when you finish. You both know you haven't given him what he needs, but if Tim's honest with himself he isn't always sure what he needs from you any more. Though, he knows what he wants. Yes, he's frequently made painfully aware of what he wants.

"Anything you need?" he asks, his voice sounding tight with frustration. You can't blame him any more than you can hold back the laugh that trickles from your lips.

"Nothing right now. Here I was thinking that was my line anyway, Detective. The things I could do for you, if you'd let me."

Tim's eyes are drawn to the card again, now face up on the desk beside the scrawl of information you'd just given him. Truth be told, your services are as emblazoned in his mind as the details on the front of the card. Sometimes, like right now, he could barely get that list out of his mind long enough to think straight.

That's the moment when, after a long day at the end of an even longer week, part Detective but part just him, he gives in to what he's been fighting himself for for almost a year, and clears his throat.

"Like what? What... what exactly could you do for me?"

You're caught between surprise and glee, briefly straightening where you lounge in your chair. Softening back into the plush fabric, you dance a finger across your lower lip, wry smile tugging at your mouth as you think of the very many things you could do for him.

"Oh, Detective Rockford. I thought you'd never ask."

Nerves were coiling in his belly in a way they typically only did at the end of a big case. There was no judge or jury here, no sentence, no surprise acquittal. There was just your door, and the promise of everything that lay beyond it.

And it made him nervous.

He was in half a mind to walk away, but it was too late. His knuckles had already rapped against the wood, and you were already flicking the latch on the other side, readying to let him in.

When you do he's stunned, just like he always is when he sees you. This time you're half naked, a thin robe draped over your shoulders and left untied at the front. Beneath it you're wrapped in soft mesh lingerie, your nipples visible through the fabric as you beckon him inside.

The space - your studio - was a simple office unit in an undesirable part of town, but you made it work. As funny as it felt to admit, it was familiar to him now, and there was a comfort in that that was already easing the swell of nerves in his body. It wasn't always this way, of course, that first visit being eye opening both figuratively and literally. Furniture and furnishings that were odd were now somewhat normal, and the soft, rich, scent that permeated the room was one that he now associated only with you and this place you existed within. It was a smell too, he notices, that is so much stronger today than it has ever been on any of his previous visits, and he breathes in deeply, both to savor it and to calm the last of the nerves vibrating in his core.

When you shut the door, closing off the world outside, you stand before him again, looking a picture of sultry confidence as you size him up. This wasn't something that was new. You often stood there, letting your gaze wander up and down his body, lingering in places that made him flush red as you taunted him with flirty quips he'd ignore. This time is no different, and he finds himself mesmerized by the way you toy with the ties on your robe as you eye him, fingers gliding up and down the fabric.

"Are you here on your business, or mine, Detective?" you say with a smile, drawing his gaze from your fingers to your face. It was a long running joke, something you said each and every time he visited you here, despite the answer always being the same. But today, finally, it would be different.

Tim rolls his eyes, just as he always does, but instead of replying with a curt mine, he lets a smile pull at his lips instead. "Yours."

"Music to my ears. And you still want to do this? You're ready?"

You both knew that had a double meaning. In the literal physical sense, he knows he's as ready as he could possibly be. But he still takes a moment to check in with himself, to see if going through with all of it is something that he still wants. If those whispers down the phone, whispers that had quickly turned from flirty promises to guidance, to gasps, to relief, were what he still wanted. Would it be worth it, or was it a momentary blip of weakness and want? But then he remembers that relief once again, the soothing of that ache like sitting down off of pained feet, and can only imagine how much better that will feel here, with you, in this room. He's ready.

Tim nods, prompting you to take another step forward. The smell isn't the room at all, he notices. It's you. The fragrance clinging to your hair or your skin, he's not sure, but so much stronger each time you move.

"Good," you say on your slow approach. Barely a step from him you reach out, tugging on his jacket and straightening his tie before letting your palm rest on his chest. The soft stroke of your fingers does nothing to soothe the rapid hammering of the muscle pumping in his chest cavity, but you suppose it wasn't meant to. You wanted him excited and desperate for it. He'd already shown you how beautiful he could be for you over the phone - all whines and whimpers and yes ma'am's. Now you wanted the real thing.

"Why don't you get all of this off for me."

Before now, Tim had wondered how you started these things - how you went from 0 to seemingly 100 with clients to get them in through the door and out in the allotted time frame. He hadn't expected it to be so quick, or so easy. Maybe he just hadn't expected himself to be so quick, or so easy, but he's tugging at his tie before you even move away to settle against your desk with your ankles crossed.

"That's it, Detective," you prompt, letting your robe slip from your shoulders and pool at your elbows as he stuffs the tie into his pocket. "I want to see all of you."

And he wants you to see all of him. He wants to take off everything that makes him Detective Tim Rockford right in front of you, and have you take control, tell him what to do, make his mind blissfully empty. So, first he kicks off his shoes, then he takes off his jacket. Slowly, his shirt is peeled from his body, the nerves racketing up again with each button. He doesn't look how he did 10 years ago, he was less lean and more soft than he had ever been, the middle aged spread proving to be a fact of life he couldn't escape.

You know what he's thinking as his fingers stall on the last few buttons of his shirt. You'd dealt with these insecurities before, in countless other clients. You weren't immune to similar thoughts either. But, he'd told you he wanted to let go, to give up control with you, so you nod to the remainder of his clothes and prompt again.

"Come now. Let me see."

Tim's fingers work quickly over the last buttons and pull the shirt from his broad frame just as quickly, giving no time for the nerves to take root. You voice the sound of your smile the moment his shirt is discarded and he looks up to see your appraisal. Each button had drawn your eyes down his chest, to the soft swell of his belly, and further still to the growing bulge in the front of his pants. Tall and broad and beautiful, the mass of man in front of you had the power to catch your eye even fully clothed, but now, shirtless with the promise of more on the horizon, you couldn't ignore the thrill at seeing so much of his tanned skin, littered with freckles and a soft smattering of hair.

His belt is unbuckled and off, and his fingers are pulling open the button of his pants and his fly. He doesn't look at you again. He can't right now - if he does he'll choke up and stop himself, feeling entirely inadequate offering this body of his to you. Pushing down his pants, down past soft thighs and strong calves, he steps out of them, taking his socks with them with each step, before nervously scratching at his belly.

Only then, does he look back up at you. You're enraptured, and have already pushed back off your desk, circling him to look at every inch of his body. You'd dimmed the lights slightly, as you always did for client sessions, but even in the soft lamplight he looked stunning. Your fingers trace the swell of his bicep, across his shoulder and the jut of his shoulder blade. A shudder runs down his spine as your fingers dance across it, down to the dimples at his back and over his hip before you round him again where your fingertips rest on his soft belly and the trail of hair there.

"You've been hiding all of this from me for how long, Detective?" you whisper, letting your fingers glide down further and further with each word. "It makes me wonder what else you're hiding."

Tim's cock twitches in his boxers, the thin fabric straining more and more with each passing moment under your gaze. He'd never felt so seen, so appraised, before. The way you looked at him was so easy, the shine in your eye so bright as he peeled back each layer.

"You still want this?"

It's what he said he'd wanted. Days ago now, but he'd said he wanted it and he did. He does. He swallows thickly, desperate to get moisture back into his mouth, nodding a croak of a yes.

At that, you slide the tip of your finger into the waistband of his boxers and pull, stretching the elastic a fraction before releasing, pinging it sharply against his skin.

"Then get these off too, Detective."

His boxers are on the floor a second later, his cock springing free semi-hard between his legs. Raising your hands to your face, you gasp in faux shock, hiding your very real delight behind your hands as you take in his entire naked form.

"Oh, Detective Rockford. I'm disappointed. After all this time you've been hiding that from me?" you gasp, and while Tim can't help but roll his eyes, his cock betrays him and stiffens even more at your words. You'd been through it all with him. Your services, yes, but also specifically what he wanted from you, some of which you'd discovered together on the phone that morning. This was one of those things - a thing you'd discovered on a whim, but something you both knew he would like before the words left your lips. There was a reason he was asking you for this and nobody else - Tim knew the specific brand of sordid you dealt in and, more than anything, he trusted you. Unfortunately for him, you planned on keeping exactly to your word from that call and, guiding your fingers down his bare chest, you tease closer and closer to his length.

"Tsk. Such a shame I won't be playing with it today."

Tim groans, a gasp of a thing he cuts short with a pinch of his lips. He's frowning again too, but nods, knowing that what he came here for wasn't that, but also very aware of the weight of the words you used. Not today, but not never.

Then, your robe is off and you're guiding him to the bed, where he lowers himself and leans back, watching your form as it retreats into the other room. He looks down, down at the body you'd just spent minutes looking at and enjoying, and wonders what you see that he doesn't. All he knows is he's trusted your word for as long as he's known you, and it's no different now. Whatever you see in him, you at least believe it to be true, and that alone makes it easier for him to believe himself. Before he can figure much or anything else out, you're sauntering back into the room.

In your hands you hold a few things. None of them should be surprising to him, but he still sucks in a sharp breath when he sees it - the strap you'd picked out just for him. You'd told him about it over the phone, said that you had the perfect one for him, that you could picture him beneath you taking it, moaning and shaking as you fucked him, and now there it was, exactly as you described. This was never something he felt able to ask for with anyone else, his ex-wife especially. It's true he was always married more to his job than to her, but even in the privacy of their own bedroom he had secrets and wants he could never share with her - she made that much clear early on. With you, he didn't even need to mention it first for you to suggest it to him, didn't even need to feel the heat of shame in his cheeks as he struggled to find the words for what he wanted, because there you were already with all the answers.

You settle everything beside him, letting him see the soft, slender, curve of the dildo up close for the first time, and pass him a bottle of water. Tim takes it, grateful that once again that it was another thing he didn't have to ask for, and cracks open the lid, taking a deep gulp of the cold liquid before setting it out of the way. Another day he'd wonder how it got to this - how on earth Tim Rockford got so used to suffering in silence that even thirst wasn't something he'd remedy until he was desperate. But, right now all he knows is the heat of your body and the smell of your skin as you kneel next to him on the bed, looking down at him with a smirk on your lips.

"Usually I ask people how they'd like it," you whisper, stroking gently down his neck, "but I think we both know you'd like it on your knees, Detective." You twirl your finger in the air, signalling for him to move, and like the good little thing he is, he shifts onto his hands before crawling forward slightly to perch on all fours on the bed.

You think he looks glorious; he feels so exposed - entirely naked for you while you're draped in that thin mesh he can see right through. He doesn't want to think about how he looks like this, on his knees with his ass on total display, his cock hanging low and, already, starting to leak precum.

Blunt nails drag down his back, softly scraping down his ass cheeks and the backs of his thighs. He shudders. You can see his cock where it bobs between his legs, and his balls where they hang softly just beneath the cleft of his cheeks. If he were a different client, maybe you'd give in and drag your nails across the soft flesh of them too, cup them in your palm and give them a firm squeeze, but you resist. Whatever this is doing to you, you'll deal with later. For now, this is for him and that desperate man, the Detective, who had all but begged you for information down the phone.

Grabbing at the small selection of things you'd dumped next to him, you get ready. Tim watches, eager eyes looking as you pull a black nitrile glove down your hand and snap it around you wrist, wiggling your fingers at him when you spot his gaze.

"I can tell you're excited," you say with a look down to his ass where his cock bounces hard against his belly with a tense of his muscles. "You're so ready for this too, aren't you? You've been waiting so long..."

Guiding your ungloved hand down his ass, you squeeze, gripping the flesh and pulling him apart, exposing him to your gaze. "Very pretty."

Tim huffs a laugh, not believing for a second that he is pretty at all, let alone like this, or there.

"What? You don't think you're pretty, all bent over and exposed for me, Detective? I'd argue you've never looked better."

"Right. Is this how you get all your information? Your clients must tell you all sorta things, huh? Vulnerable like this."

A swift, sharp slap is delivered to his right ass cheek, making him gasp as you tut and soothe the sting with your palm. "Ah-ah, Detective, you're off the clock. No work talk. We're here on my business now, not yours."

"Fu- Never off the clock, not in my line of work."

"And that's exactly why you're here, sweetie."

"...Yes ma'am."

There's a small delighted giggle that you just can't hold back, a sound that makes him flush, before you speak again. "Polite and pretty. Are you ready for me, Detective?"

It's then he realizes that your hand hasn't stopped its slow, steady caress of his ass cheeks, pushing and pulling him apart as you watch the tension leave his shoulders. He nods, trying not to brace himself for whatever is coming first, not hearing the click of a lube bottle through the blood rushing in his ears, but definitely feeling the cool trickle of it when it drips onto his asshole.

"That's it," you say, soothing with your ungloved hand, as your gloved one comes down to stroke the pucker of his ring. "We both know you're familiar with this feeling, Detective. Are you going to let me in here?"

The wet swipe of your finger between his cheeks almost feels like it could be cool, cold tongue with how you swirl it around and around his asshole. He tries not to curl his toes, and manages not to until he can't help but beg, a small please falling softly from his plush lips, and you immediately push, sinking the tip of your finger into his ass.

Tim groans, gripping the sheets in an effort not to surge forward and away from the gentle probe of your finger.

"Make all the noise you need to, Detective."

"Fuck."

Your finger steadily sinks into him, drawing out and in to collect more lube as you drizzle it onto his hole.

"Remember how this feels?"

He remembers. Remembers the crackle of your voice over the phone line as you told him to finger his ass. How his hands had scrambled to turn on speakerphone, the other still wrapped around his cock, jerking weakly as you whispered filthy encouragement down the line. Before even that, he remembers the nights spent in his own bed, concocting his own fantasies while he fucked his fist and fingers in tandem.

Except, your fingers feel so much different from his own, can reach places his cannot, and he's groaning with his head hung low between his shoulders before you're even knuckle deep.

Curling this way and that, you feel him from the inside out. Soothing him with a hand on his back, you can feel the deep breath he takes just as the tip of your finger collides with a spot inside him he was all too familiar with, massaging back and forth until he's a groaning mess.

"Oh, well that's a pretty sound, Detective. It sounds to me like you want another."

If he closes his eyes, he can see it, see the black of your gloved hand curled into a fist as your index finger stretches his hole. He can see already as you pull out a little, unfurl another finger, and slide it next to the first, ready to push into him again.

And he takes it, letting out a shuddering gasp, as your fingers fuck into his ass once again, scissoring in him before pushing down and beginning a slow curl against that spot again.

"There. That was easy. I think someone is enjoying this quite a bit, aren't you, Detective?"

There's no denying it, he is. The feel of your hand making him want to buckle into a heap on the bed already and you'd barely even started.

"Yeah. It's - ah fuck - it's good. That's - uh - not fair."

You'd been curling and prodding against his prostate as he tried to talk, making him garble words at you as you watch his cock get more and more engorged between his thighs. "What's not fair?" you ask, with a firmer press down into the spot, and you relish in the deep gravelly moan that grumbles from his chest, forcing his elbows to drop down onto the mattress.

When his hips buck forward, you place a steadying hand on his back, stroking soothing circles with your bare fingers over the dimples in his skin whilst your gloved ones curl into the spot again and again. Part of him is longing to reach down and grab his cock, to jerk it and come all over his fist with your fingers buried in his ass, but that's not what he's here for. Each time he opens his eyes he's made aware of what he's here for by the strap that still lays next to him. If he comes too soon, he's scared that'll be it over, the relief he was really seeking from you still totally out of reach by his own failure. He couldn't, wouldn't, fail at this too.

"Just look at you, Detective. You're getting so wet already." He is. He can feel it. His cock is dripping, beads of precum collecting on his tip and threatening to make a mess of the sheets below. Nodding and groaning and squeezing his eyes shut seem to be all he can do already, feeling like a total mess of a man with your voice like honey trickling into his ear. "So good. I think you can take one more finger. That's it, just one more. Good. Good boy."

He preens, back arching with the praise, cock definitely dripping onto the sheets now, three of your fingers curling and thrusting into his ass. He throbs, the ache of arousal thrumming through him with no relief, just building and building and building with nowhere to go, because you don't let it. You control it, each press of your fingers still so achingly slow that it can make him drip and ache but never explode.

A thin sheen of sweat is coating his body, his legs shaking, forehead pressed into the cool sheets, groans falling wantonly from his mouth, by the time you gingerly pull your fingers from him. That in itself feels like a relief, he thinks. Even though he's still painfully hard at least, for one moment, he's not being worked up and up to an edge you won't quite let him over just yet.

But the strap beside him is gone when he looks up, pushing up on shaky hands to look around for you again. Now, it sits on your hips, straps pulled taught over the mesh of your lingerie. You're pulling a condom over the length of dildo, rolling it down to the base, your glove discarded somewhere he can't see. His mouth is dry again, so he reaches for the water, swallowing deeply, wiping away an errant drop from the scruff of his beard.

He can't stop looking. Between your face, your beautiful face, your scantily clad body, your hands and those fingers that had just been inside him, the cock between your legs. He's entranced. It takes a gentle hand on his shoulder for him to notice you're talking to him.

"Look at you, Detective," you hum down to him, and all he can think is Yes. Look at me. Please. Here he was, stripped bare as a man could be, seen by you in ways he'd never been seen. And that name - a taunt coming from you that he longed for rather than loathed. Each tease of Detective a reminder that with you he could be both and neither all at once, just as he always was.

He reaches for you then. Slowly. Delicately. Fingers bridging the gap between you. Usually you'd step back, move away from grasping hands when permission wasn't granted. But, you let him touch, his fingers resting on your mesh covered hip and stroking you. It's the first time he's ever touched you, and it's so soft. You're so soft.

"You're ready for it, aren't you?" you ask, your eyes lazily dragging down to the strap between your legs where his follow.

Without word, and avoiding the mess already splattered on the sheet, he moves back to all fours, his hand leaving you cold. Slicking more lube across the strap, you kneel behind him, palming his ass with both hands, rubbing soft circles down his thighs as you gently rut against the crevasse of his ass.

"Do you trust me, Detective?"

It's a stupid question - stupid because you already know the answer, and so does he.

"You're kidding, right?" he says in disbelief, looking around to see the coy smile on your face.

"Humor me."

"Of course I do."

With his eyes still on you, you press forward, hand steadying the dildo to slip the tip into his slick asshole.

"Oh. That's it. Look at me when I fuck your ass. That feels so good doesn't it?"

Tim pants, nodding as you bear forward. The strap is barely thicker than your three fingers, but his rim still stretches and pulls as you breach him, slowly, steadily, until the entire length is buried in his ass.

"There we go. That's it. I'm all the way in. You take an ass fucking so well, Detective. Are you sure you haven't done this before?" With another roll of your hips he's gasping again, dropping his face to the sheet. The heat of his thighs are against yours and you know, you just know, that his cock is straining, his balls begging to empty already.

"There we are. That's it. You can take it. Oh, good boy. You like that don't you. You like being a good boy."

With his cheek is pressed to the mattress, you can see nothing but the pinched look of ecstasy on his face. It's boiling in his veins too, the heat spreading up his back and burning his cheeks. If he opens his eyes he'll see you, looking down with intent at his ass as you slowly roll your hips into him, and the thought alone makes him groan, brings him so close to coming that he's scrambling for purchase on the bed again, desperate gasps rattling out of him. The cloying scent of you is all over him - stuck in his lungs like molasses, each deep breath in of you coinciding with each slap of your hips against his ass until desperation turns to pleading.

"Please. P-please. Fuck. Please."

"Please what?" you say, looking around at him. And that's when you see his cock, angry and weeping, splattering cum all over your sheets. You hadn't felt him come yet, there'd been no tensing of his muscles or twitching of his cock, just a steady stream of precum dripping from him like a leaky faucet. "Oh, look at that. You're making quite the mess, aren't you, sweetie? Are you going to clean that up? Hm? Or will I have to bill the city for my laundry?"

"Oh, fu-," he pants, and you feel a shiver trickle down his back at the empty threat, his palms pressing harder into the mattress beneath him as his shoulders draw back. He's going to come. You don't even need to move, you could just talk to him in that voice of yours, call him a good boy and tell him how dirty he is and he'd be gone, skyrocketing to a place he'd never been and making a glorious mess of everything.

"What was that?" You slow down the roll of your hips, drawing him back from that edge you'd been dangling him so deliciously over.

"No. No. Don't - Fuck."

"Then you'll have to clean up your mess."

You swipe your finger through the cum that has steadily dripped from his cock and onto the sheet below, and lean forward to bring it to his lips, pressing your hips further and further into his ass. There's a sticky sheen of sweat on his back that slicks you together, and you can't resist. You kiss him. Soft lips pressing into the muscle of his shoulder, waiting for that moment he parts his lips in a voiceless moan to slip your finger inside. His tongue laves around your digit, tasting himself on the salt of your skin and he groans, vibrating desperate sounds from his chest to yours as you fuck so deep he's seeing stars.

"That's it, that's a good boy," you coo, dragging your finger from his mouth, leaving a trail of saliva across the scruff of his cheek.

"It's such a shame I have no use for your cock when it looks so pretty, Detective," You say, lifting your leg to fuck more deeply into him. "Look at it, all drippy and useless. You're going to come, aren't you? Even without touching your cock, you're going to come and make even more of a mess."

"Yes. Fuck, yes. Don't stop."

The steady slap of your hips picks up, and you're panting with exertion now too. You could've had him coming in five minutes, but that was no fun for you. You'd waited too long for this not to drag it out, not to see how long he could hold off for you, how much of a desperate mess he could be before he was begging for release. This was it. His limit. You'd found it, and his groans were suddenly impossible to ignore, shooting white hot heat into your own core, making you feel slick with want as you fucked him. You need him to come, before your need for more friction clouds your brain and you need to slip your hand between your own legs before he even leaves.

"Such a pretty ass to ruin. Come for me, Detective. Oh, fuck. Come for me."

He stops breathing. He thinks he's died. He has to have. You think you've killed him. But then his whole body tenses and he groans out a sob, biting sheets and spitting them out over and over as he comes, and comes, and comes. You don't stop, each shuddering sob of a gasp spurring you on until he's milked dry and almost prone on the mattress.

"That's it. That's it. You did it. Good boy. Well done, Detective. Well done."

He feels so soft. His bones must have turned to dust and spurted out of his cock with that final thrust of the strap in his ass. He's never been this weightless, never been this carefree. There's not an ache in him, just pure bliss, and he's so relieved he could cry.

And you're there. Pulling out of him slowly, wiping down his back, his thighs, with a damp towel, cooling him before you dry him with another, bringing water to his lips for him to drink. Pushing his hair back from his forehead, you guide him onto his back, letting him lie down and take a moments rest you know the man wouldn't take any other time. You're fairly certain he doesn't sleep. Detective Rockford works too hard because he cares too much, you know that. And you also know he doesn't care for himself. That is why he's here, even if he'd never say so himself.

"Up you get, sweetie. It's cold. Let's get something on you," you're whispering to him all too soon. Tim's lost, the concept of time gone from his body entirely, but he supposes it has been too long, his time is up. He only paid for an hour of your time, and even that seemed much more valuable than the price you'd put on it. He should go.

When he sits up he's lethargic, reaching for his clothes as he shuffles to the end of the bed. He doesn't know you're holding a robe out for him, strap discarded. He doesn't see the concern in your eyes because he suddenly can't meet them. "Should get going, I guess."

"No. You shouldn't. Stay."

Tim looks up to you then, seeing you wrapped and fully covered for the first time in the year he's known you. You're no more on the job right now than he is, he realizes, blinking in confusion at the robe you toss next to him.

"Look, I've taken up enough of your time, I don't want to overstep -"

"I'm not asking you to stay as a client, Detective. I'm asking you to stay as a friend. Stay. Talk to me." And you say it because god knows you mean it. You want him to stay and you want him to talk as much as you know he needs it, that gap he'd bridged with his hand now being bridged by you, and your simple request that he stay.

"Some friend to have."

"A good friend to have, Tim.”

“- I didn't mean - I meant me, I -”

“The point still stands either way," you say. And you mean that too. "Stay."

And that's it. There he is. Stripped back, just like he wanted. No more Detective. Just Tim. And there you are. Sitting on the blanket draped sofa, looking him straight in the eye. You don't need to look down to see him, and he doesn't need to look up to see you.

Grabbing the robe, Tim drapes it around himself, walking on unsteady feet toward you, the mess of the sheets and his life forgotten for one more second.

"Decaf? Might not have all the answers. But I do have coffee. And that's a start."

"Yeah," he says as he sits beside you. "Yeah, that's a start."

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr @corazondebeskar-reads

also a little sneaky tag if you showed interest in my snippet the other day 💛 @heareball @nerdieforpedro @missredherring @survivingandenduring

#tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford x you #merge mansion #merge mansion fanfiction #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford #detective tim rockford #coveted fics

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sw5w · 3 months

Text

Woah!

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace - Deleted Scene: Complete Podrace Grid Sequence 03:52

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xhdream · 2 months

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and i just had to say that i'm so happy you got into p1h, they're so talented i kinda loved how they trapped you lmao !

anyway, i haven't sent an ask about them yet because i was busy BUT i'd love to hear your thoughts about them and choking (receiving or giving). and it's not at all because i can never stop thinking about jiung and his beautiful hands wrapping around my throat, noooo !

a/n: yk we love choking in this household!! ohh they did trap me and they’re never letting me go!! lmk if you agree <3

# p1harmony + choking

keeho is the one i see being equally turned on by both giving and receiving!! (this theory drives me a bit crazy ngl) he’s the type to go with the flow when it comes to sex - you start kissing and time tells if he’s the one who’s going to lead you or the other way around; or you just rotate between both dynamics cause that works perfectly with him too. my point is he’s pretty chill when it comes to this and he always leaves you to do whatever you wish to him so choking turning into one of his main kinks is inevitable. plus, he finds it really hot when you show off your dominant side. he has a really good time when you jerk him off with one hand squeezing his throat and the other one stopping just when he’s about to cum (and he wouldn’t be afraid to admit it)…

taeyang enjoys having your hand on his neck while you ride him, especially on days when he’s exhausted and just wants to lay down and you do the work (he wouldn’t admit it like keeho tho). however, most of the time he’s choking you. he feels powerful when he has a hold of your neck especially when he sees your excited reaction. out of everyone i have a feeling there’s a chance that he’s into breath play the most, and if you’re into it, he might leave you to fight for air for a few seconds… he prefers doing it when he’s on top and you’re laying on your back cause he gets to watch your desperate face and the way you grip his arm as you cum

jiung prefers to choke you, because the amount of arousal this brings you pleasantly surprises him every single time. he goes crazy when he feels your walls clench, because of his grip hugging the sides of your neck, and the way the sounds of your moans change the longer he keeps his hand. he also loves watching your mouth hanging open; moving only to tell him that he can squeeze a little more. despite the roughness of his hand the soft dom in him is not forgetting to compliment you for how pretty you look when you let him take control even over your own breathing. his weak point is when you choke on his name…

intak loves choking you. he’s the type to have his hand around your neck even when you’re simply making out. he likes the sight of his palm wrapping perfectly around your throat; it makes you look even smaller and weaker and that really turns him on. he likes choking you while playing with your pussy too. he’d get so cocky if he catches you getting wet from his hand resting around your neck and just a few kisses… he’d squeeze a bit harder and mock you for being so easy to please. he doesn’t mind agreeing to you choking him during sex, but no matter how strong your grip is he’s still gonna be dominating you with his hands and the rest of his body. in contrast to jiung’s praises, i feel like choking unlocks intak’s degradation kink, and if you’re into it, then he’s most likely whispering filthy words at your ear with his raspy voice as he fucks you from behind

#💌: xhdream inbox #— elllisaaa #p1harmony hard thoughts #p1harmony hard hours #p1harmony smut #p1h hard thoughts #p1h smut #piwon smut #keeho hard thoughts #taeyang hard thoughts #theo hard thoughts #jiung hard thoughts #intak hard thoughts

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ijbolz · 3 months

Text

( NSFW MDNI ) jiung x fem!reader

3.4k words — it’s one of those nights again, where jiung badly felt like he needed some sort of release to help himself loosen up a bit during finals week at university. and what better way to de-stress than to jerk off, right? but when he’s surprised to see a message notification from his favorite camgirl, telling him about missing the private video call session he’d “apparently” purchased days ago, his horniness seems to fizzle down in confusion.

🗯️ mutual masturbation, cute and gentle jiung (but sometimes he can’t help his filthy mouth), a little bit of edging, reader gets called angel

(apologies for any typos, im currently half awake rn •́‿•̀)

look, he might’ve been one of the top students at his high school like what… years ago? yet he’ll admit he couldn’t dodge the burnt out gifted kid syndrome that almost everyone in the same situation as him catches as some kind of canon event in their life.

university felt like a punch to the gut, especially when JIUNG currently finds himself in a dilemma between keeping his grades afloat while he simultaneously pursues his dream of becoming a music producer. he doesn’t even care anymore if he doesn’t get the same stellar marks as usual, as long as he doesn’t fail. that’s all that counts. i mean, that’s what the other seniors like him were saying, right?

he tries his best to tiptoe through his shared dorm room with INTAK, passed out on the couch, drunk—he assumes, from the common room reeking of booze and the shallow glint of emptied soju bottles by the floor.

jiung locks the door to his room with bated breath. he lets his shoulder bag slide off to a corner, making sure his tissue box is right on his nightstand. it’s always been there anyway… he thinks before settling on his bed, phone in hand.

there’s nothing more that he wants right now than to jerk off or... shoo his stress away, and what better chance to do it while he watches his bookmarked porn videos in his private twitter account.

yeah, no… he’s too paranoid messing with this kind of stuff in his main, always thinking of the worst possible scenarios of accidentally liking a video… until it just gets aired out in the open for the rest of his followers to see. he keeps his circle close. though it’s just a couple of high school and university friends following him… he doesn’t want anyone knowing about his business like that.

he sits on his bed with the subtle glow of his phone screen illuminating him, pathetically huffing to himself as he wonders about his stagnant relationship status while he’s on the verge of graduating. jiung can’t seem to pinpoint what’s holding him back from meeting other people. it’s not like he’s far too buried within the books or… is it because of his embarrassing soundcloud rapper reputation that spread as a rumor through parties. he swears if they just give him a listen then they’ll know he’s not what they think he is!

but that’s the least of his concerns right now as he falls into another reverie of frustration, especially with these soulless nights of having to make do with just his hand.

all of his twitter dms are just full of his university “bros” and trivial conversations with them, except he’s surprised when he sees an unread message at the top of the list from…

…his favorite camgirl?

by favorite he means… probably the only camgirl he watches after accidentally stumbling upon your live one random friday night. a part of him thinks he accidentally pressed on a suspicious link and now his hacked account is receiving dms from some virus.

but when he opens up the conversation, he’s surprised to see a full-length message from you. though he’s not used to getting personally addressed with the petnames he’s being called within the message, he just brushes it off.

“i just wanted to inform you about the private video call you’d purchased from me a week ago, you weren’t responding on the set date~” it were the only words that registered in his feeble tired brain at that second… until he’s scrambling to sit up on his bed, wide-eyed and completely confused.

jiung does spend some time watching you when you go on live, but he can’t even remember purchasing anything from you at all. he’d get so dizzy and horny at times but he knows he’s not that kinda guy to avail extra services or whatever bullshit men are up to these days.

so he’s quick to type up an apology, expecting you to inbox an insignificant guy like him and move on. except… you seem to be nice enough to not let go just because he’d “apparently” paid for it already. it’ll just be a waste if he leaves it be, or you could just refund him the money.

but wait… if it’s already been paid though, who’s card was it from since he’s so sure it wasn’t from his. from having been monitoring if he has enough for his food expenses at the dorms, he can’t let a single dime out of sight.

he can’t help but laugh under his breath when he sees your message pop up, telling him about a certain “hwang intak” showing up on the transaction details for the payment. jiung thought that it must’ve been when the other guys got ahold of his phone when he blacked out from too much alcohol one night.

explains the weird glances from his other friends he’d catch at the halls as well, yet never receiving any further explanations. coming at him and asking, “so how was it?”, snickering to themselves while he just stands there clueless, raising the question of “...how was what?”

since it wasn’t paid from his card anyway… might as well take the chance, right?

it felt like a blur—blinking through his eyes as it finally sinks into him that he’s currently in a call with such a hottie like you. jiung can only swallow the lump in his throat that he hasn’t noticed from before. his face has fallen relaxed from seeing you through the screen, similarly basking under your dimly lit room. just enough that he could still make out the cute night gown you dressed yourself in. your figure’s flushed against the fabric, perfectly framing your silhouette.

"enjoy yourself, alright?" you began, his breathing picking up, feeling like it's all going too fast for his liking. and though you attempt a small conversation with him, your voice fades into the background, his gaze flickering to your touchy hands.

it's not long until you start caressing yourself through your night gown, figuring that maybe jiung still needs a little push because of his silence. “you can tell me anything you want me to do jiung, darling.”

he honestly felt like a breath of fresh air compared to your viewers that like to frequent having calls with you, fluttering your lashes as you await his words. “i’d like i-if, you lay down. please,” he’s so unbelievably sweet and gentle with his request, though his fierce stare said otherwise. like a flame lit within him.

and he desperately wishes you couldn’t see how nervous he is from his pathetic stutters. forgive him for not being as composed as he thought he’ll be, treading through unfamiliar waters. it’s not so often he’s got the chance to talk with such a babe like you—even calling each other just to do unspeakable things, he’s bound to go insane if he doesn’t inhale in a second.

he badly wishes he could just ravish you.

“have you still got anything underneath?” jiung manages to mutter, watching as you playfully pretend to think, a finger close to your chin.

“mhm-hm, i’ve got a surprise for you~”

he almost moans at your words, his eyes locked on his screen as he watches you fondle your breasts through your night gown. his sweatpants started feeling a little too tight for his liking, deeply aroused at the sight of your nipples perking up against the fabric, soft whines escaping your lips. and you only giggle at him, noticing the way jiung begins to fidget, palming his bulge out of frame. yet you don’t utter a word as well.

but the fabric’s feeling far too prickly on your skin as you kept on teasing your sensitive nipples through your clothes, hips bucking up against nothing...and so you beg, “can’t take it anymore, jiung… wanna take it all off,” he blushes at the way you’d call out his name.

the softness within his tone doesn’t falter as he tells you to go ahead and take your night gown off. you do, jiung watching the way your breasts get caught in the silk fabric bunching as you pull it up. biting his lip when he sees your sensitive parts covered in cute lace lingerie. swiftly dreaming of ripping them off or… gently tugging on it until you’re fully bare, whatever you want. anything just so he could press gentle kisses and suck everywhere he possibly could, except he can’t.

jiung’s frustration led to him pulling down the hem of his sweatpants, mind in a frenzy as he almost salivates at the tantalizing sight.

of course you had to give him a little show, cutely turning around so he could get a view with that sultry gaze of his. he snaps out of his trance when he hears the creak of your bed, your figure slipping out of the frame once you utter that you’ll be right back.

it's not for long until you return, meeting his eyes, lip caught between your teeth as you hid what you brought in with you. “i wonder how you’re so patient with me,”

you raise the question after not hearing a single peep from him, after having done everything else you had to by the minute. even setting up the camera a little closer so he’d get a better view of your clothed cunt.

“how could i rush an angel like you?”

and just when you thought he’d be so timid all night, he manages to make your heart flutter out of your chest, a grin sneaking on your lips followed by a short chuckle.

“mhmm, look at what you do to me, jiung.” you whisper, pulling your panties to the side, enough to reveal your dripping slit. he groans through his lips that were once pursed, hips bucking up at his hand. it’s so obvious how he felt a little embarrassed about being so worked up this early on during the call. and you haven’t even fully stripped yet.

“i want to see you feel good… play with that pretty pussy of yours for me?” it’s like his cock is talking for himself at this point, wishing you missed the way his eyes widened a little at his words.

“it’s almost as if you always know the right thing to say,” you coo at him before shuffling on the sheets, pulling in within the frame a bunch of the toys you like to use to get yourself off during your livestreams. “help me pick?” your hand found purchase in a cute little pink toy that could fit snugly right into your palm. “this one helps me squirt a bit easier—”

“—i know.” he cuts you off, trying to blink away the daze he’s caught ever since he’s been on call with you. it’s like his horniness urges him to talk without a second thought.

“of course you’d know,” you reply with a slight laugh, settling the little toy back onto your pile.

before you could pick up your vibrator by the side, jiung’s quick to catch your attention, eyes flickering up at him. “i was wondering if you could try that one, by your thigh.”

“this pastel pink one?” he nods, fixated on how your fingers couldn’t even fully wrap around the girth of the toy. he’s not one to show off, and yet he can’t help but feel like it slightly resembles his cock a bit, even a little on the veinier edge. he pushes his obscene fantasies toward the back of his mind but he can’t seem to stop wondering… if you really were there with him, could you really handle his cock?

and he thinks it’s a bit cute that your toy matches your lingerie set, tilting your head to the side as if you were asking him permission to take all of the pink fabric off. once the rest of your clothes were discarded, you wasted no time on settling the toy on the bed, kneeling to grind your wet cunt on the tip until jiung softly insists that he wants you to lay back onto your sheets.

“just wanna see how it, s-stretches you out…” you think he’s so adorable trying to keep a gentle tone while his words were a total contrast, straight up filth. don’t get him wrong, he couldn’t resist watching you bounce on your little toy until you cream all over. it’s just that, he wonders what it’ll look like when you're beneath him. but he keeps his thoughts a hushed secret.

you think jiung’s really cute trying to ask, but you wanted to play with him a little bit more before you could have your fun.

“it’s no fair you get to see me with nothing on at all… wanna see you too,”

he only blinks, brows furrowed like there was an inch of hesitation tugging him back. despite everything, he really couldn’t resist your adorable plea, angling his phone down. enough for you to still get a view of his pretty lips, the expanse of his neck—adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps. wishing badly that you could suck on the exposed skin as the collar of his sweater almost slides down his shoulder.

but what really catches your attention is his leaky cock, salivating over the sight of his tip, an angry red.

“so you're hiding all that underneath?”

jiung bites his lip in silence. he doesn't get this much attention from before, so he's a bit clueless on how to act. it’s not like he hasn’t flirted with anyone else his whole life, it’s just that... he hasn’t gone to this phase yet. and with such a huge leap he’s facing tonight, he’s a bit embarrassed that it makes his cock twitch in return.

“what’d you say you go on live with me sometime soon?” he catches the way you begin to drag the shaft of the toy in between your legs, enough to make it all sticky with your arousal, teasing your sensitive clit. jiung’s quick to match your pace, dragging his palm repeatedly from the base up to his tip. he’s trying to find the right words… yet he's miserably reduced to a mere stutter.

“just kidding baby,” he breathes out a sigh from your reply. out of relief or pleasure, he doesn't know.

“want you all to myself anyway, can’t have others looking at you like i do. right baby?” and it's like his hand has a mind of his own as his pace speeds up, sinking onto the sheets as he starts to feel the pleasure surge through his nerves. his eyes are fierce as he watches the way you slowly inch the tip of the toy into your hole, splitting you open. you badly wish you could see the look on his face when he lets out the hottest groans you’d ever heard in your life.

“nghm, jiung…” you sink the whole length of the toy inside of your sopping cunt, cheeks flushed as he tightens his grip everytime his hand reaches the base of his cock. fuck, he truly wants to find out how it feels like to thrust into that pretty pussy of yours. must feel so good, feeling your wetness clench around him.

“be a little bit more vocal with me, especially with a voice like that.” you wantonly urged. and when he’d thought he'd only dream of hearing a compliment like that towards his songs. jiung felt like he’s gonna melt at your words.

you desperately wanted to hear the rasp in his voice as you eventually got used to the stretch of your toy, clenching around the veins of its shaft. “fuck yourself how you’d think i’d do you if i was there,”

you can’t help but moan at his sudden words, fingers tight around your toy, attempting to meet your sloppy thrusts halfway.

“oh you’re so filthy huh,” a smirk tugs at the side of ur lips, following his firm command. “from the way you’re breathing so heavily right now i think you couldn't really resist me at all.”

your words fade into a whimper when you’d grant what he asked for, sinking your toy over and over inside your cunt in a mindblowing pace. and it’s until he begins to see your arousal seep around where your hole meets the shaft, so wet and messy.

jiung matches your speed, so sure that if it were your cunt gripping his cock right now instead of his hand, he would’ve been pathetically cumming already. he wouldn’t admit it but you’re right, he’d absolutely lose his mind, like what he’s starting to feel by the second. fighting to keep his heavy lids open as the squelch of your wet cunt echoes through his ears, each thrust wishing it was the tip of his throbbing cock hitting your spot.

fuck, it’s driving jiung insane when you start to whine about wanting to cum badly, and yet he’s so shameless when he tells you to keep it in until he says so, biting your lip at the abrupt shift in tone.

"ahh... you're such a tease,"

it’s so cute as the both of you slow down before almost crashing into your climax, trembling hand turning into an unhurried pace of thrusting as you hold onto your toy messy with slick. jiung kept silent, looking so adorably pathetic as he couldn't help but buck into his palm wrapped around the length of his cock.

“let me see your face angel?” and you peer the camera up so he could see your glossy eyes, tears threatening to escape from the desperation of wanting to chase your high. unfortunately, he doesn’t wanna snap you out of getting edged yet.

he’s such a menace as he begins his pace again, and only him, leaving you uttering pleas for his signal. moaning in unison while he’s trying to reach the same peak as you.. only resorting to fiddling with your perked nipples, toy still inside of your pulsing hole.

“i’m cumming, fuck… cum with me angel.” and at his words you follow, beginning to fuck yourself to amplify the heat pooling at your stomach, eyes shut tight wishing it was him plowing through your cunt, mad.

it’s not for long until you’re so lost within a drunken haze, only a chorus of erotic moans exchanged between a screen. though you’d fuck yourself countless of times before with this filthy toy, it had never felt this good. as if it were jiung who was pushing you toward the edge of pleasure, or maybe it’s just his charms taking effect on you.

you throw the thought aside as you watch him chase his climax. furiously stroking himself over and over with just the mere desperation and horniness of a touch-deprived graduating college student, along with the echo of your breathy whines to get him off.

jiung reaches his orgasm with a deep groan vibrating in his chest, and you think about how cute he is when he couldn’t help but jerk his hips up at his grip, hot cum all messy as it shoots out of his slit. and just like he does, your vision gets cloudy, back arching, as your legs begin to tremble, fucking yourself with fervor through your climax using your girthy toy. you’d never had a shuddering orgasm like this before, numbing your thighs until the rest of the pleasure spread through your veins. and you kept fucking and fucking the toy into you until your trembling hands had mercy on your pulsing cunt.

of course your eyes had never left him, moaning at the sight of his flushed cheeks, mouth slightly agape in bliss until he can’t cum anymore. you coo when his camera suddenly looks hazy. and from jiung’s point of view, he’d pathetically made a mess of his release all over his screen, looking like he'd actually cum all over your face, clarity following closely.

it was silent for a long moment, until your giggles interrupted the silence. “you had fun?”

“y-yeah i…” his voice is hoarse through the little stutters, trying to catch his ragged breath.

“you were so cute,” you can't help but giggle again, slipping the toy out of your cunt with ease.

fuck, you looked so hot, can’t even take his eyes off you when he watches your sticky cum drip out of your hole… down to your sheets.

“i-i’ll help you clean up if i could, sorry i really,-”

“i think it's more like you need to clean up, something’s gotten on your camera.”

and that’s when he snaps back into reality… scrambling to his box of tissues and wipes his filthy mess off of his screen. and in a daze, jiung accidentally ends the call when he wipes over the end call button.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

it’s like he’d cum once and just started to fumble every single thing he’s trying to do. he swiftly types up a cute little apology of how he didn’t mean to end the call so abruptly, missing the way you’d only giggle at his flood of messages. this time, he made sure he wiped his hand clean before fiddling with the damn screen of his phone.

y/n: sweet dreams, cutie~

he watches as the last of your message pops up before sinking into his plush sheets, blankly staring at the darkness of his ceiling. choi jiung you're crazy...

...his friends won’t fucking believe his story.

#jiung smut #p1h smut #p1harmony smut #choi jiung smut

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malusokay · 2 years

Text

How to get better

The first step to living the life of your dreams is being in-tune with yourself. Getting on track can be challenging and confusing, so I made a list of suggestions that might help you start your journey! <3

Body :

Drink a large glass of water first thing in the morning. Gotta stay hydrated!

Take vitamins. I personally like taking my vitamins on an empty stomach. If you can, go get a blood test to see what your body actually needs.

Don't skip meals! Food is fuel. You also DONT have to earn food through exercise.

Try going on morning walks. Feeling the fresh morning air always makes me feel better.

Cut down on caffeine. We all know that too much caffeine is bad.

Start including more vegetables and fruits in your meals. If you guys want a 'what I eat in a day/week', let me know! :)

Stretch regularly. I try to stretch for 10 to 30 minutes a day; it helps me with my migraines and overall makes me feel better.

Get some sunlight. You don't have to spend hours tanning if that's not your thing, just a bit of sunlight will already help you feel better.

Track your water intake. I'm guilty of being constantly dehydrated, so keeping track of my water intake really helps me!

Use lotion. Your skin will thank you.

Mind :

Read more. I've been neglecting my book lately... don't be like me.

Get rid of clothes that don't fit. There is no need to keep them, especially if you struggle with your body image.

Use your phone less. Weekends mean Phone free evenings/nights for me. It really helps you reconnect with yourself.

Focus on something you're passionate about, and invest all your efforts into developing it.

Write down things that you are grateful for. Journaling is great too!

Establish a propper morning/night routine. Taking care of yourself should always be your main priority.

Listen to more music. Listening to music helps me to get out of my mind when I'm overthinking.

Plan your days. I started planning more about a month ago, and it's actually really fun!

Get a Cat. Adopting my rescue kitten Charlie and slowly helping him heel and get comfortable really pulled me out of my worst depressed phase, and I've been doing a lot better ever since. Would totally recommend haha.

Soul :

Watch more Sunrises and Sunsets. I try watching one of each at least once a week.

Go for walks in nature. Going on walks in the forest/countryside really has become one of my favorite things.

Meditate. It doesn't really do much for me, but I recommend giving it a try! (maybe I'm just doing it wrong, lol)

Learn to say No. Still one of the hardest things for me, but it's getting better day by day also, remember that you DONT have to explain yourself when saying no! <3

Try reading poetry. You can also check out the App 'Motivation'.

Get a Plant. A year ago, I planted an avocado seed, and now I have a really cool plant! Slay.

Say goodbye. Don't surround yourself with people who don't bring positive energy into your life.

Complain less. It can be tough to stay positive but try to focus on the good things, even when they are really small. <3

As always, please feel free to add more suggestions in the comments! <3

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

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sungbeam · 9 months

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𝐧𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

hwang intak x gn!reader

1k words, hurt/comfort, soft things, mentions of anxiety/being overwhelmed, mentions of discomfort around family members, head kiss, intimacy

a/n: requests now closed! *sighs* i love him 🙁 thank you to the anon who requested this! hope this brings u comfort <3

He found you perched on the curbside outside the restaurant, the sounds of merriment muffled as the front door closed behind him. You glanced up from your phone to watch him take a seat beside you, his head tucked into a black beanie and hands coming out of his jacket pockets to rest behind him.

"I saw you leave a few minutes ago, but I wasn't sure if you wanted to be alone or not," Hwang Intak murmured and tilted his head in your direction, eyes glued to the establishment across the street to watch people pass by the window. "I'm okay, here, right? I can leave if you don't want me here."

You notched your phone off and set it under your thigh. "No, it's okay," you said, drawing circles on the street. "I just… couldn't stand being around them for too long."

He looked at you now, dark, round eyes really looking at you. Your posture was off, your hair covered your face. Everything about tonight was so off, and he was hitting himself in the head for not seeing it sooner. "I didn't know you were so uncomfortable around your relatives."

You had invited Intak to come to a holiday gathering with your family this evening. They had booked out the mom and pop shop on Main Street that served a taste of home. You'd originally been nervous about inviting him, since the two of you only recently became an item, but you should have never doubted him. Your family seemed to love him anyways, but then again, they always did seem to adore everyone but you. There was always something to complain about.

"Yeah, I mean…" you swallowed. You suddenly found it hard to look him in the eyes. Maybe you were embarrassed. Didn't he say he had a good relationship with his family and relatives? "They're just a little much for me sometimes and I get a little overwhelmed. I'm sure they mean well and stuff but I can't—sometimes I can only handle being around them in small doses."

Intak was quiet for a moment as he considered this, a frown flitting over his pretty features.

You covered your knees with your palms. "I'm sorry I pretty much ditched you, by the way," you added with a grimace. "That wasn't very cool of me."

"It's okay; you needed some air, and I get that."

He had said it so simply that you were almost stunned. He was being so understanding about this, and yet, you still felt awful. Here he was, someone you envisioned to be near perfect, and here you were… You cleared your throat, eyes pinned to the ground. "Thanks for being here tonight. I know it must have been intimidating to meet my entire extended family in one night."

He gave a warm chuckle that enveloped your body in an audible hug. "No worries, honey. I was actually really excited to just, I dunno, hang out with you for a holiday that was important to you."

Your heart soared, and you turned your head to look at him.

Intak pressed his lips into a smile. "And it doesn't matter if we're in there or out here—I get the overwhelming part, I really do. We can take it at your pace."

The two of you shared a smile. The cliché was always that actions spoke louder than words, and he had just wielded both of them in emphasizing his respect and consideration for you. It was Intak who was making your jitters decrease and your worries lessen. You suddenly focused less on trying to drown out the sounds of people in the building behind you, and instead, on the boy next to you.

When you sat in a moment of silence, you saw his hand inch towards yours on the pavement out of the corner of your eye. Your lips curled upwards in a small smile as you angled your fingers to touch his.

Your eyes met again. "It's okay to hold my hand, you know. I won't break."

His smile was bashful as he laced your fingers together with his and tested your interwoven hands on the sidewalk. He scooted over to you and you met him in the middle, until you could set your hands on your knees, legs and arms pressed together. "You know that I won't judge you for your hardships, whatever they are," he said to you, setting his free palm over your hands to warm them.

"I know," you whispered. You knocked your head against his shoulder affectionately, and he patted your hands in acknowledgment. "I just never know what to do with all of this anxiety and I've never really met anyone who I could trust with them."

Intak took his bottom lip between his teeth. "I'm sorry you've ever felt that way."

"You don't need to apologize. It's not your fault."

"I hope I never make you feel this way, if I can help it," he said to you with a slight pout. "We can learn how to take on your anxieties together, maybe?"

A smile wormed itself onto your face and you leaned your head on his shoulder now. "Stop being so cool."

He laughed, the sound soft, yet brighter than the lights from the surrounding restaurants. "I just care about you." His words warmed you again, and you felt his lips press against the crown of your head.

"I know," you said quietly. "I care about you, too. Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," he hummed. "Know any good dessert places around here? We can get ice cream and then come back in time to say goodbye?"

It was like he was a mind-reader. You made a comment about a favorite gelato place just down the block, and the two of you wasted no time in dusting your pants and setting off down the street. He never let go of your hand—only letting the pair swing between your bodies as he made you smile again and again and again.

p1h m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @kaaimins @shakalakaboomboo @bless-311 @leaz-kpop-life @pxppxrminty @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @haechansbbg @kflixnet @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @outrologist

#kflixnet #bjnet #p1harmony x reader #hwang intak x reader #intak x reader #p1harmony drabbles #p1harmony oneshots #p1harmony scenarios #p1harmony imagines #intak scenarios #intak drabbles #intak oneshots #intak imagines

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thatsrightice · 10 months

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F-14 TOMCAT ISSUES AND ACCIDENTS

The following is a compilation of issues with the F-14 Tomcat that have been encountered by pilots throughout its lifespan due to both mechanical and other reasons. Some are based on individual accidents and some cover epidemics in which many aircraft were lost to the issue *cough* compressor stalls *cough* basically it’s a bunch of ways you can hurt your fav characters in your fics so if you write something pls let me know cause I want to read it!!!

The issues range from minor hydraulic leaks to an explosion where pilots survive but the aircraft is literally in a million pieces.

LAST UPDATED 10/25/2023

Added some links to relavant FFFOTDs

Side note, the F-14 was a frickin massive tank of a fighter jet. She has taken damage to major components and still been able to land safely, so every situation is pretty unique.

Water Damage- Any type of water intrusion would cause issues with the electrical systems. It was a very common thing, so much so that they would have to duct tape anywhere water might be able to enter as a precaution when they knew it would rain.

Hydraulic Fluid Leaks - The F-14 did leak hydraulic fuel fairly often. There was a joke going around that if there isn't a bucket leaking hydraulic fluid underneath the plane then you are out of hydraulic fluid.

The Staple - On F-14 As and Bs, they would limit the jet to 4Gs maximum for three months and then they would install a metal staple to the bottom of the aircraft just forward of the tail hook. The point of the staple was to prevent severe bulkhead cracks and fuselage delamination by reducing the torquing moments caused by material fatigue. The staple is described as being a 1 foot-long and 1 inch wide solid steel part that looks exactly like a staple. As a part of their pre-flight checks, pilots would have to hang on it to ensure it wouldn’t fall out.

Airbags - Now and then, the airbags would rip and they would have to fix them.

Hydraulic Failures - Hydraulic failures happened somewhat often, but not often enough to be a prevalent issue. Generally speaking, it was common knowledge that if an F-14 wasn't leaking hydraulic fluid then it was out of hydraulic fluid. They would place buckets underneath to catch the liquid when the aircraft was not flying.

An incident from 1988 resulted from a complete hydraulic failure of both the main and the backup systems. They ruled the accident to be caused by the combination of failure of a relief valve and material failure. The Commander of the Pacific Fleet at the time believed that it could have possibly been the result of entrapped air that had been introduced into the hydraulic system through minor system maintenance.

AICS Programmers - They would have to start the airplane and then run the intake ramps aka would have to cycle the intake ramps otherwise they wouldn't be able to get off the ground.

Flap-Slat Lockout - If the flaps on either side of the jet didn't program at the same rate, it would cut it out and lock them up. They were then unable to move them as the lockout was a precaution to prevent asymmetry. This forced pilots to land without flaps, requiring an extra 22 knots during landing. It was difficult to land when they were locked out, and in many situations the end result would be pulling up next to the carrier and ejecting. Flap-Slat Lockout was a consistent issue throughout the Tomcat's life.

Unreliable Fire Warning Light - Sometimes the fire warning light would just barely start to flicker on and steadily become more prominent. Overall "just a bad system." You never actually know if there's a fire or not.

Wings Won’t Come Out - This happened at NAS Oceana. The airplane landed at a speed of 230 mph, so very close to the F-14’s stall speed. When the wings are stuck back, you can't hit the brakes during landing because there is no anti-skid and you would overheat them, if you pulled the stick back you would rotate, and with the wings back you have no spoilers so there is nothing to slow you down. In this particular incident, the pilot was able to take the long landing, but if this issue was encountered at sea it would require an ejection or divert to an airfield nearby if possible. No big explosions or fires though, it’d be a fairly calm procedure and the plane could fly into range of the ship for easy retrieval after ejection.

Low Fuel (Barricade Landing) - Bad weather at night combined with air traffic personnel being too occupied with diverting tons of airplanes, launching tankers, etc. can cause an aircraft to get low on fuel. There was a situation covered in the F-14 Tomcast episode called "F-14 Barricade" where they were unable to refuel using a tanker and were forced to do a barricade landing for their safety. They were almost forced to pull up alongside the carrier and eject. After the landing, one of the crew calculated based on the amount of fuel left that they only had about 90 seconds of flying left. This is literally the only night F-14 barricade landing ever I am pretty sure (in real life Maverick's doesn't count lol). I like it because the pilot and RIO had to tell the aircrew straight up "You have to take us now" because the pilot could no longer see the tape on the fuel gage. The crew tells their story really well and it’s really funny to listen to, especially considering the fact that they had to keep sending them around because they fucked up setting up the barrier.

Hitting the Canopy (During Ejection) - Goose's story is based on a real story in which a RIO hit the canopy during ejection and broke his spine. The reason the pilot does not also hit the canopy is because the ejection sends the RIO out first. The canopy is ejected after a couple of seconds after the handle is pulled, then the RIO is ejected after a second or two, and then the pilot another second later. The ejection seats also launch them in different trajectories so the pilot and the RIO do not collide in the air, meaning they may or may not end up in the same area. The solution would be to wait for the canopy to clear before ejecting but sometimes your don’t have that luxury.

Front Landing Gear Failure During Takeoff- While launching off of the catapult of the aircraft carrier, the nose gear attached to the shuttle broke. The landing gear and shuttle proceeded to the end of the runway without the jet, hitting the end of the ship at 305 knots and damaging the front of the carrier. The jet went off the ship with far less speed than necessary (at barely 60-70 knots) and began falling into the water as it was not enough to get the Tomcat in the air. They ejected to barely 50 feet high and were in serious danger of getting run over by the aircraft carrier. In the accident covered on the Fighter Pilot Podcast FPP004 - Ejection Seats, the RIO tells the story of his survival and the tragic loss of the pilot.

Radome (Nose Cone) Detachment - An F-14 Tomcat lost its radome during a flight due to the failure of the latching mechanism. The radome crashed into the canopy, shattering te glass of the windscreen. The pilot could only see out of a 3 inch hole in the windscreen due to the cracked windshield. He couldn't hear anything due to the noise of the wind in the cockpit, so he was unsure of the state of his RIO but assumed he was unconscious because he hadn't ejected them. The pilot flew over the carrier three times before successfully landing the plane, despite having glass in both eyes and a broken collarbone. It turns out that the RIO had been completely unharmed but with comms down he was unable to tell the pilot such. Upon landing the plane, the pilot was medevaced for eye surgery and then returned to the US.

Midair Collision - F-14A BUNo 159832 was a midair collision between two F-14 Tomcat. In this particular situation, one of the airplanes was able to divert to a nearby airport due to losing part of the right wing whereas the other crew was forced to eject. Obviously you could probably picture a situation where both jets went down.

Landng with Damage - Tomcats are a very sturdy aircraft, often described as being a tank both due to how much fuel they were able to carry and the sheer size of the aircraft. There has been an incident where an F-14 landed without one of its vertical stabilizers. In the Radome Deatchment section, the pilot was able to land the plane. The following video shows an aircraft, although not an F-14, landing aboard an aircraft carrier with significant damage on its right right side.

youtube

Single Engine Cat Shot- There was an incident where an aircraft had engine issues the moment it left the carrier. Immediately after the launch, they lost the left engine, and the first thing the pilot did was go through engine failure procedures, wingman at their side. They set up for an engine start using normal air before they attempted a cross-bleed air start using bleed air from the right engine to rotate the starter in the left engine, but neither worked. The pilot addressed the fuel distribution situation by feeding the right engine with fuel from the left to even them out and then they began dumping fuel to get to the "max trap" weight. Upon successfully landing, the Commanding Officer initially believed that the pilot had allowed the left engine throttle to roll back to idle during the acceleration of the catapult stroke, however, after maintenance personnel spun up the engine to troubleshoot, the engine spun well past its normal rpm immediately without the mechanical load it usually carried by the tower shaft meaning that something was very, very wrong. An image of the aircraft after launch can be seen below. Note the singular engine lit up.

F110 Afterburner Failure - The new engines installed were great, but they initially had a problem with the afterburner. In one recorded accident, the pilot lit the afterburner, damaging the afterburner can's lining and leading to an explosion. The Navy prohibited use of the afterburner below 10,000 ft on the F-14+/B/D until the problem could get solved but it took nearly a year to remedy.

"Thump Bang" - The easiest way to incorporate any sort of accident is to call it what the Naval Aviators call a "thump bang". A "thump bang" refers to a series of events that occur when an aircraft experiences some sort of issue they described as a "thump" and then an explosion. It's kind of hard to describe what is like in the cockpit during this sort of accident as it could have happened quickly or could have been a delayed explosion, and it could have been caused by any number of reasons. If they don't know what actually happened, they'll call it a "thump bang" and can only hypothesize what occurred. The likely scenario would have been an issue with the TF30 engines.

TF30 - The "Turd in the punch bowl, " the TF30s had two specific issues that were kind of intertwined.

Throwing Fan Blades - One of the largest issues with the TF30s was that they were with the fan blades. When the fan blades become eroded or damaged over time, they no longer compress the airflow efficiently, potentially leading to an engine stall (see Compressor Stall below). Additionally, the TF30 was known for "throwing" fan blades. This is when the fan blade becomes detached and is shot out to the side into the interior of the aircraft. Not good. Pretty bad actually. They didn't initially know they were throwing fan blades until after a couple of accidents. when they started to be more common they would retrieve the aircraft from the water (if in large enough pieces and then investigate the cause.

Compressor Stall - The actual biggest issue with the F-14 Tomcat and its TF30 engines is the compressor stalling. They literally happened all the time from a variety of different causes. Generally speaking, the compressor stalls were the result of disruption to the airflow into the compressor of the engine. The compressor has fan blades that require the airflow to be undisturbed for maximum efficiency. It was theorized to be the result of foreign object debris (FOD) ingestion into the engines. They check religiously for loose objects on the airplanes as a result, oftentimes having a crew member dive into the intake ducts to check for loose bolts. Additionally, compressor stalls could be caused by operating the aircraft outside of its limits, improper handling, etc.

The F-14 had a gated afterburner, meaning it had 5 “gates” inside of the afterburner and each one lit up a flame rack. There was no variable thrust, so it had to be either on or off. Each of the five racks was labeled as a zone. Zone 3 is what they were allowed to take off with. Coming in or out of afterburner with any angle or attack would cause the compressor to immediately stall. This was mostly due to poor design of the intake.

In general, approximately 30% of F-14A losses were attributed to high-altitude compressor stalls. When one engine stalls, more often than not it will induce the other engine to stall as well. There is a procedure to counteract the compressor stall, the specific protocol was to ease the amount of Gs, slow down, the T.I.T. would go crazy and you shut it down. Or in fighter pilot slang, “ease, slow cook it, shut it down.”

One incident in particular that was assumed to be caused by engine failure resulted in an explosion that looked so bad it was a miracle the pilot and RIO survived (see image below). The pilot escaped with minor burns to his hands, face, and neck and was able to fly within a couple of weeks. The RIO sustained more serious burns on his hands but was flying again after several weeks.

youtube

Not Touching Them For Two Days - True story; they flew best when they were used a lot.

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rxtchetprime · 1 year

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im such hurt/comfort trash and i feel awful rn so please indulge in some sick oppy with me,,,,,

optimus doesn't get sick often, he's probably the least susceptible to illness than the rest of the bots, but when he does get sick, it hits him hard.

it starts with an irritating pounding in his processor, he writes it off as a normal helm ache that comes with the stress of the war. later on his vents come in stuffy and irritated. he coughs a little as he feels the air stratching his intake.

he heads to berth that night only to wake up soon after falling into recharge. it's 3am earth time when he comes to. he feels how his internal temperature has risen exponentially, yet his plating is shivering as he stalks out of his room towards the medbay.

ratchet would (hopefully) be recharging at this hour, so optimus sneaks into the medbay and retrieves one of the blankets that ratchet has stored away for when the situation calls for it.

optimus lets out a vent as he wraps the blanket around himself. he feels exhausted and weak and just so drained. he wants to go back to recharge, yet cant find himself wanting to head back into his room. his room feels suffocating, and both too cold and too hot to stay in right now.

he eventually settles himself in a corner of the base's main room, its small, comfortable, and the cool concrete feels nice on his aching plating. he doesnt mean to, yet he falls into recharge in the corner with the blanket tucked around himself.

the first bot to rise, other than optimus, is always ratchet. the medic walks out into the main room of the autobot base to start his work. he's starting the console when hits audials pick up a small scraping noise. he slowly walks around looking for the noise, wary of the possibility of that it could be a few scraplets that werent removed when the infestation happened.

soon enough, ratchet finds the source of the noise in a small pocket tucked away behind the monitor. optimus is curled up in the corner with the blanket haphazardly on his frame. his vents are short and choppy, aligning with the scraping noise that ratchet was looking to identify.

ratchet has known optimus for millions of years. he isnt too terribly alarmed by his leader's behavior in this moment. optimus has exact mannerisms that he presents when he's under the weather, and ratchet knows what to look for.

huffing amusedly, ratchet shakes his head as he slowly kneels down beside optimus. he reaches his servo out to stroke one of his leader's audials. ratchet's brows raised as optimus leaned into the light touches. the prime was notorious for not allowing himself comfort from his fellow teammates. if optimus was so quickly willing to submit to small comforts, than ratchet knew that he really was sick.

after a few touches, optimus stirred slowly. his eyes were dimmed as he unseeingly looked up at his medic. ratchet moved his servo from optimus' audial to his helm, he had to fight the urge to jolt back after making contact with the metal. optimus was burning up, ratchet could feel it as his metal was heated up; however the leader's fans had yet to kick on to relieve some of the heat.

the prime blinked a few times before regaining some of his composure. it took him a few moments to realize that here he was, in a corner between the monitor and the wall in the main room of base, fast asleep and been caught by ratchet, and now he was even leaning into the touches that the medic were offering to him. his audial fins drooped slightly, a gesture that he had once subconsciously done as orion pax. he started to shift away from ratchet's hold, but was abruptly stopped.

"optimus, i can tell that you're unwell. why didn't you come to me?"

optimus averted his gaze as he felt optics on him. he shrugged slightly, not trusting his vocal processor to form coherent words, if it could form words at all.

ratchet was used to this. he knew that if felt pressured, stressed, or just all around bad enough that optimus' voicebox would shut down its functions completely. the mech took this into consideration as he exhaled his vents before speaking again, "c'mon, get up. you can lean on me since i don't think your legs will be able to support you fully in this state."

the prime nodded smally as ratchet held a servo out for him to take. optimus took it and slowly rose himself to his pedes, he was still clutching the blanket around himself as he leaned onto his medic. the pair wandered over to a couch that they had in the base. once there, optimus all but collapsed himself onto the cushioning. ratchet let out an amused snort at his conjunx's actions. he repositioned the blanket over optimus before telling him to stay put, and that he would return shortly before stalking off towards the medbay.

optimus laid there and sprawled himself out on the couch, not giving second thought to if someone wanted to sit on the surface. he was exhausted, not thinking as clearly as he would usually. the sound of pedesteps brought him out of his thoughts as ratchet had returned. in both servos was a cube of energon, one which was the normal bioluminescent blue, and the other which was a vibrant orange.

ratchet kneeled down beside the other with the orange cube outstretched. "i know it isn't gonna taste the best, but it's better than nothing." ah, medical grade energon. the taste wasn't pleasant, but the effects were more than necessary to get the leader back on his pedes as fast as they could. optimus took the orange cube with little hesitation, before he could think about it, he gulped it down like he was taking a shot of high grade.

the taste seemed even worse than he remembered, if that was even possible. it caught him off guard, and as he swallowed it down his intake, he coughed and sputtered from the taste. ratchet let out another amused sound and handed him the other, more normal and much more satisfying cube of energon. optimus accepted it graciously and sipped it slow, knowing that he couldn't drink it very fast, despite wanting to.

ratchet shifted himself onto his knees and spoke, "optimus you're burning up, can you lay with your back to me real quick? i need to manually activate your fans since your coding hasn't kicked in yet." optimus let out an undignified whine as he laid on his side. ratchet was extra gentle as he ran his servos in between the prime's smokestacks. there was a small panel just visible enough to access. ratchet quickly unscrewed the thin sheet of metal and worked inside the area for a moment, before finally, optimus' fans clicked on with a noticable whirr.

ratchet quickly replaced his panel and screwed it back down, making sure it was tight enough to stay in place, but not to the point of feeling uncomfortable. ratchet was about to speak to the prime again, getting as far as opening his intake, then he heard the scratchy and slow breaths of his leader which was mixed with snores. sighing, ratchet positioned the blanket around optimus. he walked over to the console, which had been sitting idle for a while now, and finally started his work.

as the day progressed, the other autobots started to emerge from their rooms, greeting ratchet before heading to the medbay for an energon cube. as the other three had all risen and were gathered sparsely in the main room, ratchet gently advised them to be quieter today. the bots raised an eyebrow or tilted their heads in question, then ratchet looked back and motioned to the prime recharging on the couch.

acree was the first to speak up, "nightmares again or is he just tired? either way, it's about time we let him sleep in." ratchet turned to the femme to reply, "neither, he's either come down with a virus or just plainly stressed himself sick. since the only cybertronian illness that we've encountered so far was the cybonic plague, i don't believe that he's contagious with anything."

she nodded and started to question her route for the day. the other two bots following to do the same. once they had headed out for the day, sure to return with their human charges, only then ratchet felt himself relax.

time passed as always, ratchet listened as optimus rechared. here and there, optimus would mumble a few incoherent words in cybertronian with no real meaning. soon enough, the bots returned to base with their human charges in tow.

as miko hopped out of bulkhead's vehicle mode, she took in a big gasp of air, as if she was about to yell something. like usual.

as soon as the others heard, they all quickly turned to her and started shushing her immediately. she quirked an eyebrow and shut her mouth as soon as it opened. jack and raf also started to quietly question the sudden outburst from every single bot.

the bots glanced over to where optimus was recharging on the couch, the kids' gazes followed them and tilted their heads in question.

bulkhead was the first to speak up, "he stressed himself sick and i guess ratch couldn't get him back to bed, so he just passed out in here. it's convenient though honestly, that way we can keep an eye on him."

their charges nodded and decided to find an activity that they could enjoy while simultaneously being quiet. the bots retired to different areas of the base, and optimus was left undisturbed, left to simply just rest.

#tfp #macaddam #transformers prime #tfp optimus prime #tfp ratchet #orion mumbles #tf headcanons #optiratch #tfp arcee #tfp bulkhead #tfp bumblebee #jack darby #miko nadakai #raf esquivel

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