#and i might need to like...give it all up at the drop of a hat for more responsible decisions

[breakmeoff]

Compliant Little Doll

featuring: kwon jiyong x fem!reader warnings: swearing, toxic "situationship" smut: dom!jiyong, oral (m receiving), rough fingering (f receiving), unprotected p in v, breeding kink, usage of "doll" and other condescending phrases. MDNI, 18+ only* word count: 2.9k synopsis: jiyong has had a shit day, and all he wants to do it fuck you out of his bad mood. when he shows up at your house, he makes you kick your friends out and pisses you off - but doesn't give a shit. he's there for one purpose only, and he'll be damned if he doesn't get exactly what he wants. note: think i blacked out writing this at some point. woof. might be my darkest one yet. 😬 this is part of the Larie's Libations 200 Followers Celebration. this is a combo request by my beloved @mashtatosworld, the sweet anon 💿 reader, my sugary 🍓 anon, and another lovely anon reader whose selections are listed below - kinda combined a buncha kinks into one for this one so hold on tight! lol i'm also acknowledging my cute anon reader 🥥 with this one too as she also requested most of the same except the location - so hope i hope this works for all 5 of you darlings! thank you for reading! LARIE'S LIBATIONS - Tequila Tempest [Tequila] — Kwon Jiyong [Tonic] — Someone's Apartment [Citrus Rind] — Kinks (Dominant GD💿, Praise/Degradation 🥥 & Mash, Overstim for🍓 and Creampie/Breeding for Anon!) Masterlist

Jiyong had had a shit day.  Like one of the worst.  Staff wasn’t listening to him, one of the deals he was trying to work on with a designer fell through, just found out one of the artists he had negotiated a collab with had a scheduling conflict, and now to top it all off, you weren’t answering your phone.

You lived across town from where he was, but he was desperate to blow off some steam and you were always so… compliant.  You weren’t in an exclusive relationship by any means, and truthfully, Jiyong was so caught up in himself that he hadn’t even considered trying to make anything official.  You were young, probably too young, and all he really had time for was fitting you into his schedule when it made sense.  

Lucky for him, you were obsessed with the idol.  You’d somehow convinced yourself along the way that what he gave you was enough, that you didn’t need or crave more.  It was mostly easy, albeit sometimes inconvenient for your own schedule and plans when he called you over at the drop of a hat, but that’s what you did.  What you always had done.  Anything he ever asked you to do.

Once he approached your apartment door, he lifted his hand to knock when he heard the muffled laughter and low music coming from inside and he pinched his eyes shut, groaning in annoyance.  Instead of announcing his arrival, he turned the doorknob and pushed his way inside to find you perched on your sofa, surrounded by a group of three of your girlfriends all with various cocktails in hand.

Hearing the door open, you lifted your head and smiled brightly watching the older man 14 years your senior walk in.  “Ji!!!!”  Leaning forward, you placed your drink down on the coffee table in front of you and jogged over to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders before kissing his cheek enthusiastically.  “I didn’t know you were coming over!”

Doing his best not to be rude to your friends, he gave a tight lipped grin to them as you made your way over.  Placing a limp palm on the small of your back as you embraced him, he turned to make it appear as if he was kissing your temple, but instead mumbled darkly into your ear.  

“I had a shit day, and you’d better get rid of everyone in this apartment or I swear to god I’m gonna fuck you on the first flat surface I can get you to, and I know you don’t want anyone to know what you sound like when I’m fucking my frustrations out on you.”

Pulling back from him, your eyes widened as you met his gaze; dark and deadly serious.  Your cheeks flushed a rosy pink at the implication, and how fucking entitled he sounded, coming into your home and making such demands.  And yet…

“Uhh, girls… I think we’re gonna need to continue our party another night,” you said, turning to look at your friends over your shoulder.  Jiyong stepped from the door and meandered into the kitchen, helping himself to a glass of water as you made your apologies to the other girls.  

Once the last one stepped out of your apartment, and you shut the door quietly behind you, you turned to face him.  “Who the hell do you think you are coming into my place and telling me what to do?  And making me kick my friends out when I had already made plans?”  You tried to sound menacing as you made your way into the kitchen, firmly letting him know that you were definitely not ok with his antics.

Jiyong kept his mouth shut, head hanging down as he stared at the half-empty glass of water on the counter in front of him, letting you spout off your words of distaste.  Finally, he peered up at you through his dark lashes.  “You finished?”

“I…” his question made you pause, speechless.  Trying to figure out something to say, you parted your lips again as he slowly, predatorily made his way over to you.  “You can’t just come over here and demand things, Jiyong.  You aren’t even my boyfriend…”

Standing right in front of you, his breath fanning your face in the proximity, he calmly clasped his hands in front of himself.  “Get on your knees.”  His voice was soft, though there was no question about his sincerity.  

Shifting your weight on your feet, you furrowed your brows at him.  “No.”

With a dry laugh, he raked his eyes down your petite frame, silently calculating his next move.  “Cute you think that I was asking.”  

Seconds later, he reached forward and grabbed a handful of your hair, roughly tugging your head to the side.  “You know how this works, I tell you to do something, and you do it.”  You parted your lips, whimpering at the harsh way he was yanking you around.  “Now, let me say it again.  Get.  On.  Your fucking.  Knees.”  He whispered through clenched teeth, his nose close enough to brush yours as he stared into your eyes.

With your breath caught in your throat, you slowly sank to your knees, his grip still firm in your hair.  Once you were kneeling before him, looking up at him through your lashes, the tips already wet with a tear that had pricked on the edge, he murmured appreciatively.  “That’s a good girl.”  Pushing your head forward, he roughly rubbed your face on the growing bulge inside of his jeans, your hands lifting to his thighs for stability.  “Now suck it.”

You were so conflicted.  You hated that he felt like he had some control over you and that you were helpless to it.  On the other hand, you loved the way he spoke to you, and the way he used you like his own personal fuck toy.  Right now?  Your panties were already soaked with how he was roughing you around.

Somewhat afraid to challenge him further, your shaking fingers went to his belt buckle first, undoing it before you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants.  “Faster.”  He hissed, causing your hands to fumble a bit more as you pulled his jeans and boxers down just enough to let his cock spring out, already flushed, red, and leaking.  Before you could even reach for it on your own, Jiyong’s hand went to the base of his shaft and smacked you in the cheek with his cock.

“Open up.”  Obediently, you did, still slightly stunned at his actions.  Sticking out your tongue, just the way you knew he liked, he bent down and spit filthily into your mouth.  A low groan slipped out of your throat, and you hated the way your body betrayed your humiliation.  Jiyong chuckled darkly as he began tapping the head of his cock on your tongue, now even wetter with his saliva pooling onto it.  “Such a little slut… moaning and you haven’t even gotten my cock in your mouth yet.”

Without giving you any time to rebut, he placed both of his hands on your cheeks and roughly fucked himself into your mouth in one punishing thrust.  Surprised at the sudden deep intrusion, you couldn’t help but gag around him, your hands frantically going to his thighs again to give yourself something to hold onto.    

Pulling out just as quickly as he pushed himself in, you gasped for air loudly, trying to gain some self control, but it was no use as he roughly thrust himself back in. Letting go of one of your cheeks, he raked his fingers through your hair almost reverently as he gave you the opportunity to start sucking him off at your own pace.  

Creating a good, steady rhythm, you tried to do everything just the way he liked - your tongue teasing the underside of his head, hollowing your cheeks at the right time, letting the drool start to come out of the side of your mouth.   “Juuust like that, fuck, love seeing your pretty face get all messy.”

With the wall of the kitchen a few inches away from you, Ji decided to take control again, and  bent you back just enough to rest your head against the wall.  “Perfect, now you just stay still like the little fuck doll you are.”  He mumbled, and started a brutal pace of fucking himself in and out of your wet mouth.  Pinching your eyes shut, your fingertips dug into his thighs, grounding yourself as you just took it.

Eventually, he pulled himself out, leaving a sticky trail of saliva hanging from the tip of his cock that connected to your tongue.  Blinking your eyes open, you inhaled deeply, trying to regain control over your breathing as Jiyong grabbed your hair again in his fist.  “Hands and knees.”  With a small whimper, you looked up at him and cautiously lowered yourself to distribute your weight on all fours.  

Looking down at you lecherously, he bent down to grasp the waistband of your shorts and tugged them roughly down over the curve of your ass, and down to your thighs, exposing your bare cunt to the room.  Seeing your glistening folds, he chuckled to himself again, dragging a single finger through your wetness.  “Knew you loved getting used by me.”

Letting go of you, he took a few steps in front of you, onto the carpeted floor of the living room.  Stopping right by the back of the sofa, he turned around to look at you.  Wordlessly, he snapped his fingers and pointed to the spot right by his foot.  Calling you over like a damn dog.

And yet, here you were, slowly, tentatively crawling over to him.  God you hated the way he treated you, and even more you hated the way you just fell for it every fucking time.  

Once you were stopped in front of the spot on the carpet below his finger, he smirked, and patted you on the head.  “Good little bitch.”

Stepping around behind you, he leaned forward just enough to place his open palm on the back of your head, forcing your cheek down to the carpet below and your ass up in the perfectly arched position.  His free hand went back to your pussy, cupping it roughly as he mused aloud.  “You look good all soaking wet.  Bet you feel good too…”

With no warning, Jiyong drug the fingertips of two of his fingers through your messy folds, rubbing lazy circles over your clit before he dipped them back down to your opening, and thrusted them both into your heat.  “Fuck, Ji…” you moaned, eyes pinching shut as your velvety walls clenched around his fingers.  

“What’s that?”  He teased, finger-fucking your cunt at a leisurely pace, letting you feel every knuckle drag against your sensitive skin.  “I didn’t hear you, Doll.  Speak up.”  

You keened gutturally, starting to rocking your hips back against his hand.  “More… please, faster.”

“God… such a needy little thing, aren’t you?  Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic.”  Jiyong’s voice was patronizing, dripping with condescension as he slowly started to increase the pace of his ministrations.  “You just want me to use this pretty little pussy, don’t you?  Make you cum all over my fingers?”

Your desperation was getting the better of you, lips parted as you exhaled moans over and over again, a small puddle of drool forming on the carpet below you.  “Please, please Ji… please.”  Your hips were acting on their own, chasing a release that you knew you’d only get if you did everything he said.

“Listen to you asking all nicely… ok Doll… let’s give you one, shall we?”  Jiyong dropped to his knees behind you, one hand smacking down on your ass roughly as you lurched forward with the sting.  “Come back here and stay still so I can make you cum like a good little slut.”  He grunted, another crack to your ass with his bare hand.  

Curling his fingers in a hooked position, he angled the pads of his tips to the perfect, spongy spot that made you see stars.  Your hands splayed out on the carpet in front of you, flexing them tensely as you moaned obscenely.  “Fuck… just like that, just like that please…”

Doubling down his efforts, Jiyong started to thrust his fingers in and out of you relentlessly, adding just the perfect amount of pressure on your g-spot everytime that you cried out, the tight coil in your lower belly threatening to break at any second.  “Ffffuuhhh, gonna cum…” you slurred out, fucking yourself on his long fingers.

“Don’t talk about it, just fucking cum Doll.  Cum,” he demanded, his thumb slipping down to your puffy clit.  With barely extra stimulation needed, you broke, body frantically shuddering through the orgasm that temporarily blinded you.  Fingernails dug into the carpet, your back arched, and you wailed out as Jiyong kept fingering you roughly through every wave of your climax.  

He was mesmerized with your body, perfect, pliable and boneless just for him.  As he felt your breathing attempt to slow down, he pulled his fingers out, only to add in a third one and he began fucking all three into you at a punishing rate.  “One more.  Give me one more.”

“Ji… Ji, I can’t,” you cried, trying to lift your head and possibly attempt to crawl away from him.  Hooking his hand around your thigh, he pulled you back, forcing his fingers even deeper inside your oversensitive cunt and you moaned lewdly.  

With another smack to your ass, he pushed harder down on your soft spot, deep inside your pussy and thumb frantically rubbed circles over your puffy clit.  “I said one fucking more.  I know you can do it, you’ve got it in you.  I hear that wet mess of a pussy… shit, I bet I could make you squirt all over yourself, couldn’t I, slut?”

Your voice broke in a cry, unable to do anything but lay there, ass up in the air, and take his assault.  But, Jiyong got impatient.  And so he pulled his fingers out of your pussy, causing you to exhale in relief, your back relaxing as you tried to calm yourself once more.  While you were silently thinking he’d given you a moment of reprieve, he roughly grabbed both of your hips with his hands and angled the head of his cock against your soaked cunt, and thrust inside in one bruising motion.

“FUCK!”  You cried out, everything tensing again as he bottomed himself out inside of you.  Trying to lift your head to look over your shoulder at him, he stopped you from moving by shoving two of the fingers that had been inside your pussy into your mouth, hooking them into your cheek and keeping your cheek pressed against the carpet below.

“You didn’t want my fingers anymore.  So suck them like the dirty little girl you are,” he said between clenched teeth.  “Taste how fucking sweet your pussy is, always so wet just for me.”  His hips rocked backwards again, dragging his length almost completely out of your warm walls before he fucked himself back inside of you roughly.

His pace increased relentlessly, pummeling in and out of you harshly, and so deep you would’ve sworn the tip of his cock was hitting your cervix.  All that could be heard shortly thereafter was your pathetic noises, Jiyong’s grunting, and the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin.

Not even coherent of your thoughts or the words babbling out of your mouth, you began begging him.  “Ji, fuck me… gonna make me cum all over you, please please please fuck me, give it to me,” you mumbled between cries, doing your best to just stay upright as he roughly fucked you from behind.

“Gonna fucking breed this pretty cunt.  Stuff you so fucking full of me it’ll drip everywhere…” he groaned, curling his torso over your back, one hand roughly fumbling for your braless tits beneath your tee.  Grabbing one of them roughly, he pressed his forehead to your back, his hips snapping against your ass cheeks.  “Gonna take every last fucking drop of what I give you, won’t you Doll?”

His possessive words were just enough to tip you over your edge, pussy walls tightening around his thick cock which he struggled to keep fucking into you as you came.  Loud, shaking, overstimulated and soso sensitive.  Jiyong didn’t stop his pistoning hips until your body almost entirely went slack below him, his fingers on your tit digging into your supple skin and the other gripping tightly on your hip as he chased his own release.

No more than two rough pumps later, Jiyong stilled deep inside your fluttering pussy, groaning obscenely into your back as he held on and spurted himself into you in long, thick ropes of cum.  He stayed like that longer than normal, his body still twitching as he just kept cumming, filling your tight walls so full that he could feel it starting to leak out around him.

Taking a deep breath, he sighed and pushed himself back up, looking down to where your bodies were still connected and smirked at the creamy white ring that was surrounding the base of his cock, still buried deep inside you.  “Fucking best way to end a shitty day,” he mumbled to himself, slowly pulling out of your pulsing walls as he watched his cum start to ooze out of you and drip lewdly onto the floor.  “Making you an utter mess, chock full of me.”

my tags: @angel-writes-skz-here @idkimobsessed @queenofdumbfuckery @mfcherry @downingmorphine @pixie-felix @d3kstar @lveegsoi @ebnabi @nebugalaxy @babystay724 @mmarusa @imagine-all-the-imagines @erisuna @beabidoobee @hanniesbubuwife @bbykaixx @riri53 @jinniesgirl @alx-wyjsr @skzswife @hwangjoanna @stephanieeeyang @minnysproutgriffinteddy @moontabi @foivetimesacharm @letsstrippp @jqtsblyth @magicshuhua @berfgrimm @loveesiren @szonyix6277 @seungttttop @millytugby

[seeminglydark]

sad days mean i should draw them as cats but i cant cuz i have too much to do ahaha help.

[tommysversion]

Forbidden Fruit [Part 1] - Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

Summary: he's been watching you for longer than he can remember, thinking he's too old for you, too dangerous. It's easier to keep people at arm's length, and he isn't the roughened lover he used to be. Turns out you don't care much for what he used to be.

Warnings & Contents: age difference (unspecified, can be as large or small as you'd like) | unsafe sex | Vaguely misogynistic language (not from Joel) | past Reader x Tommy mention | dirty talk | praise | pet names | size difference implied IE Joel's hands are larger than Reader's | unprotected PIV | Enthusiastic consent | Fluffier than expected | creampies oops | guaranteed happy ending

Note: I got this out before episode two dropped. There are no spoilers here, just old man Joel being loved.

Word Count: 3.8k. || Part Two Here

- x. -

Joel knows that deep down, he's not the good guy that he tries to be in Jackson. That no amount of hard work and somewhat begrudging neighbourly behaviour will truly ever mask what he really is. 

He does a damn good job hiding it, though. Looks almost unassuming with his greying curls, the crows feet forming round his eyes, the glasses he wears more often than not. 

Then there's you. God knows how much younger than him - does it really matter, when he's pushing sixty and you're clearly not - and full of life. 

He sees you around and just one look at you gets him half hard; you don't even have to fucking do anything, just be wandering past and give him a friendly wave, a half smile. 

He finds his eyes glued to your ass more often than not, given your standard attire of a pastel plaid shirt and jeans does nothing to hide your figure. He feels like a dirty old man each and every fucking time, but he can't help it. Especially when you wander past to get ready for a patrol, an honest to god cowboy hat perched on your head, a lasso and a gun on your hip. 

It makes some deep buried dark and depraved part of him wish he was still the cocky, confident bastard he once was. The kind who would have no problem whatsoever with talking to you and getting exactly what he wanted. Age has made him hesitate, though, and so he sort of just contends himself with trying to be as subtle as possible with his stares. 

He'd be lying if he said he thought of anything else when he fucked his own hand each night, though. 

Imagining you. How you might look spread out beneath him. On top of him. How you might sound with his name on your stupidly pouty lips, which he absolutely hasn't made note of or anything. 

Joel likes to think he's completely subtle in his interest in you, thinks he might just be burning up inside with his own desires and need, until Tommy calls him the fuck out for it one night. 

They're in the bar long after closing time, just the two of them, perks of Tommy being on the governing council, Joel guesses, and two or three glasses of whiskey deep. 

"Don't know why you don't just go after her, y'know." Tommy takes a long sip of his drink. Gives Joel a smirk that he never thought he'd see again, given his younger brother is all settled down now, married with a kid and whatnot. 

"You know damn well why not." Joel snipes back, refills his glass with a narrowed gaze. "'M too old and I'm too fuckin' dangerous. She'd probably break or something." 

Tommy just laughs. But it's more like his old laugh. The slightly dark sound that Joel hasn't heard in years that makes him goddamn certain his brother knows something he doesn't. 

"What?"

"Nothin'," Tommy says, tossing another cube of ice into his glass, swirls it around. "Don't blame you for lookin'. Girl's got a sweet ass, and damn, she can ride, too."

There's that tone again, the one that says he definitely knows something. More than knows something. So Joel gives him that look he does that always inevitably has Tommy spilling the beans. 

"And how d'you know the girl can ride, huh?"

Tommy snorts, drags a hand through his messy black curls. 

"Wasn't always with Maria, ya know. Back when I first came to Jackson... girl can handle her way around a saddle. Ain't half as cocky when she was gushin' all over my cock in a hay bale. Tell y'somethin, never seen a prettier sight than a cockdrunk woman." 

He downs the rest of his drink before he shoots Joel a crooked grin. 

"And trust me on this one too - she loves her an older man."

Joel doesn't want details. Doesn't care much about something that happened six or so years ago. 

What he does take from the conversation stays worked into his head over the next few days. He's just thinking he might make some excuse to leave his office early, to go home so he can either drink himself senseless or fuck his own fist until he has some semblance of self control again. 

He's still debating which it'll be when someone knocks on his office door; he looks up, about to tell whoever it is to fuck off, and instead stops. Because there you fucking are, your hair pulled off your face, still windswept. Dressed in a pastel purple and blue plaid shirt, another pair of jeans that should be fucking outlawed and worn cowboy boots. 

“Hey, Joel.”

Vaguely, he wonders if this is the first time he’s actually registered you saying his name; he likes the way it sounds in your voice.

“Hey. What can I do for you?” He can’t help but sense some sort of mischief, wonders whether Tommy has decided to interfere, again, in something he has no business in.

“Oh, uh, Tommy said you were the one to go to if the barn door got caught again?”

Joel registers what you’re saying, can’t help but listen to the way his brother’s name sounds in your mouth, as if he’s looking to see if there’s any hint of any sort of affection in it, but he finds none.

He also thinks his goddamn brother is full of shit, because he knows damn well that Tommy is just as capable of fixing the stupid barn door. But Joel is nothing if not an opportunist, and he sees exactly what’s being offered here – an opportunity.

So he gets up out of his chair, pockets his glasses, and gives you a nod.

“Sure. Let’s go get that fixed up before dark.”

-            X     -

You’re aware of the sheer size of the man beside you as you help him lift the barn door back onto the track it usually slides in. He must be at least sixty, and yet he’s so big and broad that it doesn’t quite show. That doesn’t mean you’re oblivious to the greying curls, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. You’re not blind. Maybe you’re just fucked up, because you’ve always preferred older men, at least, since the outbreak.

Maybe it’s some convoluted thought that someone older might be able to keep you safe. As if you aren’t a damn good shot yourself. As if you aren’t entirely capable of keeping yourself safe.

You haven’t been as oblivious to his stares as he thinks. No, Joel Miller is not a subtle man, not anymore. Never has been.

That, and you’ve seen a similar look on his brother’s face, once upon a time. The kind of look that says they want to devour you. To do things to you that’ll make your toes curl.

Like you haven’t been watching Joel since he first set foot in Jackson. Figured maybe you were too young, too out of range of his usual type, whatever the fuck that was.

And then you’d noticed him watching you, dared to perhaps hope, but never make the first move. Until now.

“Thanks for the help,” you say as you test the door, pull it open and closed to make sure it isn’t stuck again.

“’S fine,” Joel answers, shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Walk you home?” You offer, and the hint of a smile curves his mouth.

“Don’t know that I’m the one who needs a chaperone to walk round after dark.”

You laugh lightly as he falls into step with you regardless.

“Ah, Joel, nobody would be stupid enough to lay a hand on me.”

You don’t entirely believe that, but confidence is certainly part of it, and the last thing you want is for him to think you’re someone weak and scared.

“Why, you got some scary ass husband or somethin’ I don’t know about?” Joel asks, and you can hear the hint of jealousy in his tone, even if he thinks you won’t; it lights up something in your belly that trails all the way down to your core.

“Pff, no. No husband. No boyfriend. Just me, and apparently I’m scary enough.”

You give him time to take all that in, but that means you arrive at his house far too soon with very little progression in conversation. You’re almost feeling disappointed when he speaks again.

“Comin’ in for a drink?”

Joel isn’t sure where that confidence came from. Maybe the way you’ve confirmed there’s no significant other in your life. The almost flirty way you’ve spoken to him. The way you had seemingly no issue getting up in his space as you fixed the barn door.

He notices, too, the way your eyes flicker with something like triumph at the offer, before you just nod, follow him up the steps and into the house.

-            X     -

Joel watches the way your lips curve around the glass tumbler, and he really thinks he should be more focused on his own liquor consumption at his age more than the way it looks, but he can’t help it.

Unbidden, his mind gives him a picture of your lips wrapped around something else entirely, and for the first time since Tommy shared his little bit of “wisdom” about you the other night, he resents his brother for it. Because of fucking course his goddamn brother would have had the balls to just make a move. So why doesn’t he?

As he’s pondering this, he’s oblivious to your gaze, focused on him over the rim of your glass. They’re so alike, and yet so different, the Miller brothers. You haven’t quite worked out what makes Joel tick yet, can sense a sort of brooding, shut off darkness in him that you aren’t entirely certain you’d like to see unleashed.

What you do know, though, is that you’ve caught his eyes on you more than once. That you want him, even if it’s only for one night, that you don’t care if he shreds your heart to pieces after, so long as you get one single night where you can see what it’s like to be his.

And so while he’s still lost in thought, you down the rest of your drink and cross from your chair to his, straddle his lap and tap him lightly on the cheek.

“Hey, still with me?”

Not a lot takes Joel by surprise; he wasn’t sure what to expect when you moved, but to find you in his lap is definitely unexpected. He puts his half-finished drink to the side and just looks at you for a second, tries to will his cock into behaving, but it’s too late, he’s already hard as fuck, uncomfortable in his jeans with you pressed against him, and you both know it.

“What’re you doin’, sweetheart?” He manages to get out, because he’s got to be sure you’re not just fucking with him, or making some poor decision fuelled by liquor, even though he doubts the single drink has even touched the sides.

“What’s it look like?” You can feel how hard he is, can’t help but rock into him slightly, taunting, teasing, because God forbid you actually want this.

“Makin’ a real poor decision?” Joel regrets saying it as soon as he does so, and it shows on his face; luckily you ignore him.

“You want me to stop?” you ask instead, your hands at the buttons of the flannel shirt he always wears, a well loved dark green thing that you think sets off the olive tones to his skin perfectly.

He shakes his head so fast he almost feels dizzy, because there’s no way in hell he wants you to stop, but he wants you to understand what you might be getting yourself into.

“Fuck, no,” he almost growls it out, leans in to press a kiss to your bare collarbone where your shirt has fallen. “More just… I'm an old man, darlin', but I've never been good at bein' gentle."

You just laugh, because you don’t want gentle. You don’t want young and sweet and inexperienced. You want whatever the hell is lurking behind his tired gaze.

Still, he doesn’t move until you lean in first, press those pouting lips against his, part them so he can taste liquor and strawberries on your tongue. It’s not until you grind down against him again and moan into his mouth that he reacts.

Then whatever control he has left (which isn’t much) snaps, his hands pushing up your shirt; glad he had the foresight to build a fire when you got in, because the last thing he wants is you shivering for any reason that isn't good, isn't at his hands. 

You figure he isn't moving fast enough, help him shed your layers of clothing one by one until you're in his lap in just your emerald green panties, and fuck if Joel doesn't think the colour looks good on you.

His hands are wandering, up from your hips, slowly, cupping your tits and rubbing his roughened thumbs across your peaked nipples. You almost wish you could get him naked, but the most he'll allow is a few buttons of his shirt undone. Not that you're about to complain, so full of want for him that you'll take whatever he gives you.

You can feel the fabric of your panties getting damper with every hungry, open mouthed kiss, your little moans muffled as he slowly draws circles with his thumbs around your nipples, humming when he feels you react.

"Sensitive, huh?" His dark eyes stay fixed on yours as he pinches your nipples gently, making your back arch slightly. "Yeah you are, aren't you, sweetheart?"

You just nod, grinding yourself down against the thick length of him, your hands finding his belt buckle.

He doesn't stop you, too preoccupied with playing with your tits, the way you lean into his touch. Your hand unzips his jeans, frees his cock from the too tight confines, and slowly strokes, drawing a low groan from his chest.

Fuck, but you know what you're doing, slow practised strokes from base to tip, gentle twists of your wrist when you reach the thick head of him, spreading the precum that drips heavily along his length.

"Fuck, sweetheart, don't make me cum before I've got you there-" he warns, and you laugh, not at him, but because you're so fucking pleased that you're having that much of an effect on him.

He shuts you up effectively though, slides one rough hand into your panties and almost immediately finds your swollen clit, rubs circles on it with his thumb, smirking at how soaked he finds you.

"Christ. Don't even need t'get you ready for me, do I?"

You shake your head, but he does it anyway; nobody can say he isn't merciful, Joel thinks, as he slides his index and middle finger into your wet heat, drawing a filthy sound from you as he curls them deep.

He kisses you again, rough and needy, thinks about how if he was five, ten years younger he'd pick you up, carry you to the nearest horizontal surface and fuck you into it. The thought makes his cock throb painfully, but even this is enough, having you in his lap, writhing on his fingers...

You're aware of his mouth on you; on your throat, your collarbones, your nipples, then he moves his fingers a little more and you're aware of nothing beyond your own pleasure, your cunt weeping onto the thick digits as he continues to move them, not stopping until he's absolutely certain you're through it.

"So fuckin' pretty for me, baby. You want to come sit on my cock now?"

Slowly, slowly, he slides his fingers out, enjoys the dazed look on your face as you nod; your ruined panties are dragged down, tossed aside, then you're there, intimately close as he lines himself up, catches the tip of his cock at your soaked entrance.

He lets you sink down onto him with little to no guidance; groans when your hips meet far sooner than he expected. 

"Fuck, there's a good girl-"

You make a sound of assent, wriggle in his lap to get comfortable, only serving to make his cock twitch inside you and drag another pretty little sound out.

"You like how it feels?" He knows you do, can tell by the way your pussy tightens around him, trying to pull him in deeper, but he wants to hear you say it, almost needs the ego boost.

"Y-yeah," you breathe out, then, "Joel-"

His name is drawn out, a half plea for something that he isn't quite sure about.

"What d'you need, honey?"

"Need you to move," your voice is almost demanding, somewhere between pleading and insistent, but you'll get what you want regardless.

Joel keeps his hands on your hips, giving you some semblance of control still, but he starts to move, slowly rocking his hips up as you rest your forehead against his.

So maybe it's not what he first pictured, not what he'd have done to you ten years ago, but it doesn't quite matter to him, not when he can feel how wet and tight you are around him, hear every single pathetic little noise you make for him.

Your fingers drag through greying curls, tugging lightly; you're rewarded with another low groan, more like a growl, as his hips snap upwards sharply against yours. You don't get to savour that victory, too preoccupied by the suddenly rougher pace.

"Fuck, Joel-" You gasp and he laughs, tightens his grip on your ass to bounce you on his cock just that little bit harder, faster, hitting all the right places inside.

"That's it, good girl," he presses greedy, open mouthed kisses to your throat, keeping up the pace, feeling you tightening around him and knowing without a doubt that you're close already, so worked up for him that tipping you over the edge will be almost easy.

"Such a tight, sweet little cunt, baby, made to take my cock, weren't you?" The filthy words pour out before he can stop them, but you're responsive to those, too, clinging to him, moaning as his cock hits your sweet spot again and again,  getting you closer; you try to hold it off, don't want this to be over yet. But God if it isn't difficult.

Joel can feel you trying not to cum, can feel you holding yourself back.

"C'mon, sweetheart, go ahead and cum for me.  Y'really think this is gonna be the only time I give you my cock, sweet girl? Fuck, gonna keep this pretty pussy full of me til you get sick of it."

You gasp a moan, because there's no way in hell you could ever get tired of this, of the hint of roughness and the burning passion with which he handles you. 

Regardless, once he gives you that permission, even though you didn't need it, your resolve breaks; he presses in deep, grinds his hips against yours so the coarse curls at the base of him brush your over-sensitive clit, and then you're gone, spots in your vision as you cling to him, your cunt fluttering and throbbing around the thick cock splitting you open as your release drips down him, soaking his lap. 

Joel groans, almost cums right there, because he can count on both hands and feet how long it's been since he made a woman cum so hard, felt a pussy spasm around his cock and gush fluids into his lap.  Fuck, if he doesn't love it.

"Not gonna last much longer, sweetheart," he warns, voice low and rough as he rubs circles on your back, trying to get you through it whilst holding back his own release.

"Please-" Your voice is hoarse, eyes wide and pleading as you look at him, not bothering to finish your sentence and instead leaning in to kiss him.

It's the kiss that pushes him over the edge; years of rough, emotionless encounters, against walls. Bent over surfaces. And here you are, younger than him, softer somehow, kissing him like he's someone good and deserving.

He knows he should pull out of you but it's too late, his cock aches and twitches inside you as his release fills your still fluttering cunt, breaking the kiss only so he can rest his head on your shoulder and try to breathe.

Then your hands are in his hair again, stroking through the soft curls, getting him through the aftermath of his climax with the same gentle touch he gave you.

"Joel," you whisper his name and this time it's not a plea, not an impassioned moan, just your voice being gentle as you continue to stroke his hair.

"Hm?" He's content to just stay like this, actually, even if his joints are starting to protest. He'll deal with that later for another five, ten, fifteen minutes of this with you.

"You don't fuck like an old man." Your voice is soft. Sleepy. Like he's fucked any fire inside you out of you, lulled you into a sense of safety.

Joel can't help it. He laughs, a proper laugh that barely anyone gets out of him these days.

"Guess not, huh."

He feels his softening cock slip out of you, wraps his arms around you and tucks you against his chest.

"Can we do this again?" You dare to ask, because you're feeling sleepy and stupid and high on him, on the feeling of his seed slowly dripping down your thighs as he presses little kisses to your head.

Joel looks down at you for a moment, understands you don't mean right now, but in a sort of ambiguous future way.

"Yeah, sweetheart. Whenever you want. You want a blanket or something?"

Because inexplicably he's worried that you might be cold, as if he's only been watching you to think with his cock and doesn't actually, possibly, maybe care.

You shake your head and nuzzle back into his chest.

"Can we just stay like this for a minute?" You ask instead, and Joel nods, because he really does need to catch his breath, and even if his knees are protesting, he doesn't give a damn, because you're nice and warm in his lap and you fit there just right, like you were made to fit there.

"Yeah, baby. As long as you want."

It won't occur to him until maybe a week or so later, when you're picking strawberries in the greenhouse, that that should have been the moment he realised he was a total, utter goner.

[wingedhallows]

— RUSTLING MAPLE LEAVES —

— ✩₊˚.⋆☾ PAIRING southern!vi x citygirl!reader / 2.5 k words — ✩₊˚.⋆☾ SYNOPSIS When you inherit your grandmother’s farm in the heart of Georgia, the last thing you expect is Violet Lane—your rugged, maddeningly charming neighbor with a slow drawl and a smirk that could bring anyone to their knees. What starts as a simple favor—a little help with the land—quickly turns into something far more dangerous. Because Vi isn’t just good with her hands; she knows exactly how to unravel you, one lingering touch at a time. And resisting her? Well, that might just be impossible. — ✩₊˚.⋆☾ WARNING smut (minors DNI) — ✩₊˚.⋆☾ AUTHORS NOTE hey babes, i'm super late with this but it's my first time attempting to write actual smut. I thought you might enjoy this as a thanks for 400 & 500 followers. thanks babes, love u

♡︎ navigation ♡︎

Moving into your grandma’s old flat in Georgia wasn’t exactly on your bucket list this year. But when she decided she was done with the ranch—tired of the early mornings and aching bones—she signed it over to you and packed her bags for a nursing home.

And now, here you stand.

Hands on your hips, staring up at the massive oak tree out front. It’s old, gnarled, and overgrown—a mess of tangled branches just waiting to drop and split someone’s skull open.

"Surely needs trimmin’, ma’am."

The voice is smooth, warm, dipped in something slow and syrupy. You whirl around—and nearly forget how to breathe.

A woman stands there, tipping her hat with a lazy smirk. Pink hair peeks out from beneath the brim, catching the golden light just right. One hand rests on the belt of her worn jeans, and the way she carries herself—easy, confident, like she’s got all the time in the world—makes your stomach flip.

Jesus.

Since when did you have a thing for Southern women?

"Violet Lane. Pleasure. Call me Vi."

She pauses, giving the tree a once-over, and for a moment, you swear you catch a sharp cut along the edge of her jaw—like she was carved from something wild and unyielding.

"Shimmer Farm’s mine." She nods down the road, and just like that, it clicks.

Your new neighbor. And, quite possibly, your newest problem.

You finally manage to clear your throat, lifting a hand to shield your eyes from the sun. It’s too damn bright, or maybe it’s just her.

"Bonnie’s my granny—left all this to me." You gesture vaguely at the ranch around you, hoping the motion hides the slight tremor in your fingers.

Violet—or Vi, as you’re already calling her in your head—gives a short nod before leaning against the white fence. The wood creaks beneath her weight, but all you can focus on is the way her flannel stretches over her arms—sleeves rolled up just enough to show off tanned, sinewy forearms and biceps that look like they could throw you clean over her shoulder.

Jesus. Get a fucking grip.

"She mentioned it—nice lady." Her voice is slow, deliberate, dipped in molasses, and you find yourself watching her like she’s something out of a dream.

Of course, she’d know your granny. They were neighbors.

"Tell you what, city girl—I’ll trim it for ya'."

She pushes off the fence with a lazy sort of grace, nodding toward the tree.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “What? No, no—you don’t have to.”

You shake your head quickly, hoping she’ll back off, because if she gets any closer, you might just lose the battle against your absolutely feral urges.

But Vi just smirks, the kind of smirk that’s all trouble, all slow-drawled confidence that makes your stomach flip.

"Nonsense, sugar. ‘S what we do ‘round here."

And then—she winks.

You stand there, completely useless, as she turns and strides back down the driveway, hands tucked in the pockets of her beat-up jeans.

All you can do is stare after her, mouth slightly open, and hope to God nobody catches you drooling like a love-struck teenager.

Vi returns not long after, carrying a ladder, a hedge trimmer, and—oh, hell—without the flannel.

The wife beater she’s wearing should be illegal. It clings to her like a second skin, outlining lean muscle and sun-kissed shoulders, and as if that wasn’t enough to completely fry your brain, your gaze catches on the ink stretching across her upper back. Bold, intricate—something that probably runs the length of her spine.

You stand there on the porch, awkward as hell, gripping the railing like it might keep you from falling over. God, help me.

Vi doesn’t say a word as she props the ladder against the thick trunk of the tree, adjusts her hat, and climbs up like she’s done this a thousand times before.

And maybe it’s your imagination—or maybe she flexes, just a little, when she lifts the trimmer.

She knows you’re watching. And she sure as hell doesn’t mind.

The hedge trimmer hums to life, and you realize you should probably say something—anything—to make this feel a little less like you’re shamelessly ogling her.

"So… what kind of farm is ‘Shimmer’?" Your voice is quieter than you intended, but steady.

Vi doesn’t look away from her work, but she answers anyway, cool and easy.

"Horse farm. Got some sheep, too. Ma’  Pop, and my sister run it with me."

You nod, soaking that in. So, she works on a horse farm, probably rides, probably knows how to rope cattle, probably looks stupidly good doing it.

One question lingers in the back of your mind, burning at the tip of your tongue before you can stop it.

"Just you three? No boyfriend?"

You swear you hear her chuckle—low, rough, the kind of sound that zips straight through your bloodstream and leaves a warm ache in its wake.

Then she turns her head, baby blues locking onto yours, lazy smirk playing at her lips.

"Nah. I don’t swing that way."

Her voice is amused, like she already knows the effect it’s having on you.

And just like that, your brain short circuits.

She’s into women.

Oh.

A few hours later, the tree is neatly trimmed, the stray branches hauled off to God knows where—somewhere in the back of Vi’s truck, probably, but you’d been a little too distracted watching her maneuver the damn thing like she was born with a steering wheel in her hand.

She’d backed into your driveway with one arm slung over the passenger seat, her other hand steady on the wheel, and you swear your heart flipped clean over in your chest.

Now, you lean over the railing of the porch, holding out a cold bottle of beer. A peace offering. Or maybe just an excuse to keep her around a little longer.

Vi takes it with a soft huff, swiping the back of her hand across her damp forehead before twisting off the cap. "Thanks, sugar."

Her voice is a little rough, a little breathless, and it sends a spark straight through your bloodstream.

You watch as she tilts the bottle back, throat bobbing as she takes a sip—your eyes helplessly tracking the way a single droplet of sweat slides from her temple down the curve of her jaw.

And suddenly, you forget how to breathe.

"Are you hungry?" The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, blurting out in a rush of reckless impulse.

Vi lowers the bottle, her smirk slow and knowing as she tips her head. "Don’t wanna trouble ya', city girl."

Her voice is low, husky, damn near sinful, and you—God help you—have to press your thighs together, because how the hell is this woman the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen?

"It’s the least I can do, please." You nod toward the house, pushing the door open in silent invitation.

Vi takes her time stepping forward, letting her gaze drag over you in a way that feels deliberate.

And she’s doing her best not to stare at your ass too long—because, fuck.

Inside the house, you make your way to the kitchen, racking your brain for something—anything—you can throw together. Not like you’ve got much to work with. You’ve only been here a week, and your fridge is a sad excuse for a meal.

Behind you, Vi leans against the counter, the beer bottle dangling lazily from her fingers. She’s watching you—no, devouring you with her gaze—slow and deliberate, like she’s got all the time in the world.

You pretend not to notice. Or maybe you just don’t know how to function under the weight of her attention.

She shifts, brushing a few strands of hair from her face, and you let out an awkward chuckle, tugging open the fridge with a grimace.

"I, uh—I don’t really have much. I just moved in, and… grocery shopping…” Your words fumble over each other, and the sheer intensity of her gaze makes you regret speaking at all.

Vi waves you off with a slow flick of her wrist, stepping closer.

And that’s when you catch it—the faintest hint of her cologne beneath the scent of sweat and sun-warmed skin, the lingering trace of sawdust from working on that damned maple tree.

You swear your knees go weak.

"S’alright, hun," she murmurs, voice richer, huskier than before.

Your back presses against the counter, your pulse skittering as she closes the space between you.

The air shifts—thicker now, charged with something electric, something dangerous.

And suddenly, food is the last thing on your mind.

Vi moves in, slow and deliberate, until her arms cage you in against the counter, the scent of her—leather, sweat, a hint of cedar and smoke—wrapping around you like a trap you don’t want to escape.

Her gaze roves over you, heavy and smoldering, like she’s sizing up a meal she’s about to devour.

“Ain’t that hungry—least not for food.”

Her voice dips lower, like a secret meant just for you, like something sinful curling between your legs. Your breath shudders, your fingers gripping the countertop behind you as if that’ll keep you grounded.

She leans in, breath hot against the shell of your ear, and your knees damn near buckle.

"Wanna repay me another way?"

It’s not even a question—it’s a promise wrapped in velvet.

Your lips part, but words fail you. All you manage is a nod, shaky, desperate.

Vi tilts her head, a slow, knowing smirk playing at her lips. Her hands find your waist, calloused fingers curling into the soft skin beneath your sundress, sending a rush of fire through your veins.

And then—before you can even think to touch her—she grips beneath your thighs and hoists you onto the counter like you weigh nothing.

Your legs part, a breathless gasp slipping from your lips as she presses in close—solid, hot, the heat of her searing through thin fabric.

You lean back against the cabinet, exhaling a shaky sigh, your whole body thrumming with want, with anticipation.

And Vi—she just watches you, like she’s got all the time in the world.

Vi’s lips find your neck, warm and insistent, each kiss slow and deliberate, a teasing drag of softness against your skin. The heat of her breath lingers, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

You tip your head back instinctively, granting her better access, and she hums in approval, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your throat.

Her hands roam—rough fingertips skimming the curve of your waist, slipping beneath the thin fabric of your sundress with a slow, knowing touch. Your breath hitches, fingers clutching at her shoulders, a feeble attempt to ground yourself against the way she unravels you.

Then—her palms slide lower, brushing over the sensitive skin of your thighs, pushing your dress up inch by torturous inch.

Her fingertips graze over the damp fabric of your clothed cunt, and a shaky gasp tumbles from your lips, your thighs twitching at the featherlight contact.

Vi chuckles, low and deep, the sound rolling through you like a slow Southern drawl, thick and sinful.

“Oh, sugar,” she murmurs, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You’re drippin’ for me, ain’t ya?”

She grins against your skin, her voice sultry and smug, and all you can do is nod, breathless, aching, already at her mercy.

Vi presses one last, lingering kiss behind your ear before she sinks to her knees, slow and deliberate. The sight alone—her looking up at you, eyes dark and hungry, that damn smirk playing on her lips—has your grip tightening on the edge of the counter.

Her hands skate over your thighs, warm and teasing, pushing your dress higher, higher, until the cool air ghosts over your skin.

Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, her fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, a mischievous glint flickering in those baby blues as she drags them down.

A soft gasp slips past your lips when her knuckles brush against your heated skin, and you barely catch the way she tucks your soiled panties into the back pocket of her jeans like a prize.

She doesn’t even try to hide her amusement, lips quirking as her thumb presses against your aching bundle of nerves—just enough pressure to make you tremble.

“Mmm, she’s screamin’ for me, sugar,” Vi drawls, her voice all honey and gravel, thick enough to drown in.

Your mouth parts, a protest, a plea—but before you can even think to speak, she leans in and drags her tongue in a slow, sinful stripe up your slit.

A breathless hiss escapes you, thighs twitching, and when she pulls back, her tongue flicks over her bottom lip, savoring.

“Delicious,” Vi hums, that cocky smirk only deepening.

A breathless moan tumbles from your lips as Vi leans in again, her tongue plunging between your folds—hungry, unapologetic, like she’s been starving for you all her life. The sensation is blinding, white-hot, and when your fingers thread into her hair, tugging at the soft strands, she hums against you, the vibration shooting straight through your core.

Her grip tightens around your thighs, keeping you right where she wants you—helpless, unraveling beneath her touch. Each flick of her tongue, every sinful suck against your aching clit, has you teetering on the edge, stars bursting behind your eyes.

“Vi—” Your voice is shaky, breath hitching as the coil in your belly winds tighter, tighter. “I-I’m gonna—”

She pulls back just enough, her lips glistening, pupils blown wide as she watches you fall apart. That smirk is there again, the one that makes your stomach dip.

“I know, sweet girl,” she murmurs, her voice thick and dripping with something wicked. Then, as if to seal your fate, she licks one slow, deliberate stripe up your pussy - from entrance to clit, savoring the taste, before whispering—

“Cum for me.”

And you do—helpless against the force of your own undoing. The coil inside you snaps with breathtaking intensity, pleasure crashing over you in waves so strong it leaves you gasping.

Vi doesn’t let up, doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath—her strong hands keep you steady, gripping your hips with enough force to hold you together as you shatter.

The kitchen is filled with the sounds of your pleasure—high, breathy moans mixing with the wet, obscene sounds of Vi’s tongue working you through it. You barely register the way she groans against you, drinking in every last bit of your release like it’s something sacred.

And when the aftershocks leave you trembling, thighs still twitching in her grasp, Vi finally pulls back—chin glistening, eyes dark with satisfaction.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and smirks up at you, voice thick as molasses when she drawls—

“Sweetest damn thing I ever tasted.”

[racew1nn3rs]

─ 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘪. (𝘪'𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦) 🧶

⤷ summary: the world meets the newest mclaren team member, and they are loving it! it's poor oscars first day and shit's already hitting the fan sorry dude ): LMAO. lando just experienced love at first sight, while y/n is ready to fist fight

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liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 32,890 others

mclaren oscar's first day of kindergarten, done. pre-season testing, done. (we'll be even faster soon 🙏🏼 don't worry guys)

2,568 comments

user2 HELLO??? WHO HACKED THE MCLAREN ACCOUNT

user6 we'll be racing past redbull in no time

mclaren a girl can dream

user7 lando is this you??? 😭

user8 budget dropped so low they had to hire the drivers for social media

user3 this is haas money behavior

mclaren excuse you i am NOT LANDO

user8 oscar????

mclaren no sir, i'm the owner of this house 🫵

user9 idk if this is a new admin but this is so unserious

mclaren new year new me babe

user9 give her a raise mclaren 🙏🏼

mclaren REPOST REPOST REPOST

landonorris first day on the job and already asking for more money?

mclaren i'm so sorry lord lando, you forget that us lowly peasants aren't on an athelete salary 🙄

user10 HUMBLE HIM, WE LOVE TO SEE IT

user11 mclaren admin beefing with lando was NOT on my 2023 bingo card

user12 she really said, "ik we're slow but LET US COOK"

mclaren TRUUUSTTT THAT COMEBACK IS COMING (im manifesting)

oscarpiastri KINDERGARTEN??? i'm nearly 22 mate

mclaren teensy weensy baby basically

oscarpiastri your fired /:

mclaren HAHA YOU CAN'T DO THAT 🏃🏻‍♀️

user13 petition for all the f1 team accounts to be run by young admins, this is tooooo good

mclaren screenshotting this for my boss so they don't see these comments and fire me

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user14 she. looked. up. his. salary. 💀 ICON

user15 hiring her was such a rare mclaren W

user16 MCLAREN ADMIN HEAR OUR PRAYERS AND MAKE TIKTOKS 🙏🏼

user17 OMG CAN U IMAGINE

user18 HOW MUCH MONEY DO I HAVE TO PAY MS. MCLAREN FOR THIS OMG

user19 will our team win? probably not BUT AT LEAST WE'LL BE GETTING CONTENT 😘

user20 AYYYYEEEE

user21 LANDO MAY NEVER WIN, BUT THE FANS NEVER LOSE 🤞🏾

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liked by mclaren, maxfewtrell, and 60,050 others

landonorris don't mind me, just living my lord life on my athlete's salary. bahrain here we come!

10,750 comments

user22 WHERES THE MCLAREN ADMIN

user23 lando nowins flexing on us poor people

user24 someone come get this man's phone

user25 oh i KNOW pr is mad 💀💀💀

user26 daniel ricciardo leaves and mclaren loses it's mind

user27 daniel leaves and all of us lose our minds 🥲

oscarpiastri jesus christ mate, log out

mclaren i'm not sure he knows how, he might need to pay someone to /:

user28 CRAZZZYYYY

user29 THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING

user30 "f1 is a serious sport." the serious sport in question:

user31 the papaya hat 🫵

user32 HE'S SO FINE IM GNAWING AT THE BARS

user33 BARK BARK WOOF WOOF

mclaren phones. on the table. NEOWWW

user33 holy shit this is actually so embarrassing

mclaren at least ur self aware!

user34 she clocked ur asses 😭😭😭

maxfewtrell lord lando flying economy

landonorris I AM NOT

user35 bro took that personally

user36 me thinks the man doth protest too much

danielricciardo i leave you alone for a few months and this is what you're doing

landonorris i learned from the best

danielricciardo DONT BLAME ME FOR THIS

maxverstappen1 ... that's my plane???

landonorris SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

maxverstappen1 you can't just take credit for my private jet. its mine.

mclaren this just in, little lando norris is a little LIAR

mclaren when he steals a plane and wears bucket hats 🫵🤣 everyone point and laugh

landonorris I QUITE LIKE BUCKET HATS

mclaren i quite like bucket hats 🇬🇧☕️🤓

maxverstappen1 🫵🤣

danielricciardo 🫵🤣

charles_leclerc 🫵🤣

carlossainz55 🫵🤣

maxfewtrell 🫵🤣

oscarpiastri 🫵🤣

landonorris OSCAR????

oscarpiastri 🫵🤣 🫵🤣 🫵🤣

mclaren damn he got you there

user37 this cannot be real

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There were quite a few things Lando expected to be on his agenda when he arrived in Bahrain after him and Max went seperate ways to their own teams. He figured he would meet with his engineers, spend some time getting adjusted to working with Oscar (especially given he hadn't had very much time to meet or bond with the rookie over the break or during pre-season testing), and doing some press interviews as per usual. However no where on his list was an impromptu meeting with Zak Brown. Oscar seemed clueless as to what was going on as well, and Lydia, Lando's personal assistant of two years, was just as clueless.

Lando and Oscar filed into the board room, bottles of water in hand, only to be met face to face with their team manager. Nothing seemed suspicious which Lando hoped was a good thing, but after their underwhelming performance in pre-season testing he knew anything was a possibility.

"Have a seat guys, it's good to see you both. I hope you've been well-rested since testing," Zak greeted with his usual cheerful attitude. Lando and Oscar looked at each other warily but nodded at their boss nonetheless. Zak was usually more of a 'get to the point' kind of man, so this change of pace was unnerving to say the least. Normally it scared Lando a little bit, but truthfully, right now, Lando wanted to be done with this meeting and to get to race preparations.

"That's good, you need all the rest you can get if we're going to try and put up a fight this weekend. In all honesty, I think within the next two years we have a chance to become real competition here. I think we can give Red Bull and Ferrari a run for their money and earn plenty of points this year. Hell," the older man chuckled, "maybe we can win it all."

Lando didn't want to seem skeptical, but he was definitely skeptical. He did not think the car he was given in testing could win the championship, but he would sure as hell be trying.

"But no matter how hard the engineers work the car, and no matter how many sims we do, the one thing we're lacking in is presence. McLaren is notable, we have a famous team and a long roster of famous, successful drivers, including the two of you, but we don't have the same dominating media presence that Mercedes or Ferrari do. And that's what gets us sponsors, and celebrity visits, and fans, and funding. We may not be struggling for money, but if you guys like your multi-million dollar salaries and you want your car to keep being better, we need more media presence. Which is why we decided we wanted to go a bit of a different route this year, with media and all of that."

Oh god. Lando knew where this was going. This was about the new social media admin that had been ruthlessly harrasing him- albeit teasingly- for days now. Only employed for less than two weeks and already stirring up the pot across platforms. Lando looked at Oscar, noting that his teammate was clearly following as well now.

"I know you both have come to realize this already, but there is a new social media manager who runs all of the McLaren accounts. We wanted someone young, someone trendy, someone who knew what the internet is looking for, and who can help us connect and start getting more eyes on McLaren. We want her to meet with you guys today to share a couple of ideas so you can be on the same page for what we'll be doing online. The new manager is just outside. Let me get her so you can speak with her."

Lando nodded dumbly. Right, ok, he could do that. Lando was young, he was online, he was trendy. Plus, most of if not all of the F1 drivers had some kind of media presence already. Lando streamed, he had instagram accounts and twitter, and he even had Quadrant. Lando steeled himself. This would be just fine. An adjustment, but fine.

Zak greeted someone outside of the door and a small bit of shuffling sounds were heard. Before Lando had a chance to stand, Zak was turning and nodding a quick goodbye. Leaving the office room, as a smaller body replaced the space he had been in.

Lando felt like the air had been knocked from his lungs and hoped he hadn't made a noise out loud. He stared, he couldn't help it. He was sure he was slack-jawed, mouth agape and flies coming in. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that he should be professional and behave like a normal human being. But the other part of his brain, the dominant part of his brain, was in awe.

Lando looked at the girl in front of him up and down, probably far too obviously, and was stunned. He saw jean shorts, a faded and a mid-washed denim. A colorful-tighter cropped shirt and some layered gold jewelery. Rings on her fingers. Sunglasses in her hair, making her look way to cool to ever speak to him. She rocked on the balls of her sneaker-clad feet- sneakers that matched her clothes perfectly much to Lando's delight- and quickly moved to set her laptop down of the table. She left her small colorful handbag on the table alongside a cup of iced coffee that was already melting in the Bahrain heat. She looked as if she had jumped straight from a Vogue cover (or one of his favorite dreams) and landed right in front of him.

Was it the heat that was making it so hot? Because Lando was becoming suddenly aware of the heat beneath his shirt collar. A stifled cough from Oscar drew Lando from his observation- or rather his creepy, stalker staring- and Lando realized this was not the social etiquette that the situation called for.

Before Lando could even take a step, the girl smirked.

"Nice to finally meet you guys. Hello Oscar," the girl leaned over and shook the taller man's hand. "And Lord Lando, is it? It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Y/N L/N, i'm the new social media manager for the season."

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Y/N could now officially say she is not a fan of Lando Norris. The online feud she had cleverly created to generate some conversation about McLaren before the season started had been banter. She had taken no offense to Lando's jokes at all, but now that she was in front of the man and could feel his judgement, her opionions had changed.

From the second she walked in Lando had begun unabashedly staring at her. Looking her up and down, from the shoes she had recently bought to the hair clipped back on her head, and was not sparing a single detail. She felt vaguely like a mannequin on display and it unnerved her.

Oscar smiled at her politely as she set her things down, and she felt thankful for the reprieve from the judgement and critcism she had been recieving since she arrived and was now experiencing again from Lando in full force.

Y/N was aware that her outfit wasn't uniform or professional, but those were not the qualities she was hired for. Y/N had been confident coming in here, feeling like she would likely connect better with people her own age, but was thoroughly dissapointed to find this was not the case.

Oscar ultimately cleared his throat awkwardly, and it appeared as though this finally snapped Lando out of his judgemental stupor, so Y/N decided to finally make her introductions.

"Nice to finally meet you guys, hello Oscar," she leaned over and shook the taller man's hand. "And Lord Lando, is it? It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Y/N L/N, i'm the new social media manager for the season."

Lando groaned loudly and Oscar laughed.

"Lando I don't think you'll ever live this one down," and Y/N forced a laugh and nodded in agreeance.

"No, probably not. But that's good, that's what I was hoping for." Y/N stated bluntly.

"You were hoping to torture me?" Lando stuttered out and Y/N rolled her eyes, "You'll live I promise." Oscar laughed before pointing out, "at least your not a kindergartener."

Lando stifled a laugh but agreed.

"What purpose did Oscar's baby jokes serve?" Lando asked, and Y/N forced herself not to punch the man at his judgemental tone. He clearly didn't believe in her ability to do her job.

"It's funny, that was it's purpose," she stated, gesturing to the table for the boys to sit as she opened up her laptop. She turned to face toward them, lifting herself slightly so was seated criss-crossed in the chair. She never had liked sitting normally. The boys across from her stared at her expectantly.

"So you create jokes the make people look at us more?" Oscar asked.

"In a way yes. My job is to manage the accounts, but I've also been hired to help get you guys more fans. Fans love to be interacted with, they love seeing you guys joke around, they like feeling like they have content to consume," Y/N explained.

"By playing into these desires, you get more fans, because they feel they 'know you" in a way they don't know the other drivers." The boys nodded their head in understanding.

"So the plan is for me to keep interacting with fans through the McLaren accounts, playing up jokes with you too, and for us to give the fans new content in a way they don't usually get it. Livestreams, youtube vlogs, inside internet jokes, TikToks, the works." Y/N stated.

"Essentially," she said dragging the word out, "I'm going to make you guys the internet's little papaya stars," Lando laughed but nodded. Y/N, despite her first impressions and her developing dislike for the driver, found herself smiling. She could see the vision. Both Oscar and Lando would be awkward and loveable and humorous. The perfect mix for internet support.

"So where do we start?" Oscar asked.

"I'm glad you asked," Y/N smirked. "Have you heard the clip of 'Cuffing Season' by SZA? There's a TikTok trend I think will be perfect for you to do."

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user38 can we talk about how gorgeous admin is?!?!? LIKE OH MY GOD

user10 only hot people go to mclaren

user40 that check better be huge for her

user41 oscar was so mf stiff 💀💀 free my boy

user42 who had a gun to oscars head, he was so scared

user43 lando thirst trapping ICB 😭 I NEED A BIG BOYYY

user44 god admin is so sexy and smart, that was art

user45 CAN WE DISCUSS HOW LANDO LOOKS AT HER

user46 ikr 💀 get off the floor lando your drooling

user47 i want a man to be that down bad for me

user48 lando loverboy era unlocked

user49 meanwhile admin didn't look him in the face

user50 f1 2023 is going to be a WILD RIDE for us mclaren fans if this is before the first race even starts

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hope you all enjoyed! please let me know your thoughts and feel free to leave a request for me to write something for your fav <3

-

𝙩𝙖𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

@lemon-lav @slutforpopculture @m4rt10ne

[threadbearsweater]

one warm day is all i really need | arthur morgan

When you find yourself taken in by a gang of outlaws, the last thing you expect is to grow sweet on one of them- and have the feelings reciprocated. Arthur Morgan doesn't have time for romantic nonsense, but a few memebers of the gang want to make sure that he gets to indulge in his obvious affection toward you. Tags: 3.9k words, an unlikely romance, meddling gang members (with the purest of intentions, one might suppose); female reader, alcohol use, smoking, emotional smut. A repost from a (regretfully) deactivated blog.

Arthur first notices your eyes on him one evening around the campfire at Shady Belle. He won’t accuse you of staring– Lord knows he’s been known to look at you with the same foolish grin you’re wearing now– but he tips his hat to acknowledge you. The heat in your cheeks is suddenly warmer than what the fire has already provided; your grin only grows until your teeth are showing, and you duck your head into your shoulder to hide. Arthur takes a long swig from his whiskey bottle and grimaces as it goes down. He hasn't had a drop of anything in days, and the burn takes a little while to grow numb to now.

“Think she's sweet on you, Morgan,” Sean says in his Irish lilt, giving Arthur an elbow in the ribs.

“Naw, she's lookin’ at you,” Arthur deflects, though he hopes he's wrong. He thinks he knows.

“She told me last week to keep my eyes on my own work,” Sean continues. “I really don't think it's me she wants, Arthur.”

You turn to whisper something to Sadie, who laughs out loud with her face tilted toward the stars. You dare a glance back at Arthur, who is, in fact, looking at you.

Maybe there's some truth to what Mary Beth told you yesterday.

“Arthur's been awful quiet lately.”

The sun shines through the trees and dapples the table where you're seated with bright spots of pale yellow. It's your third round of dominoes with Mary-Beth, and she's whooping your ass, as usual. You don't know how she does it, but each game you play, you're a little more privy to her prowess.

“You think so? I don't know him as well as you.” You hope it isn't obvious that your heart started beating a little faster at the mention of his name. It leaves you breathless.

“Oh yeah,” Mary-Beth continues. “He's been scratchin’ away in that journal of his a lot more, too.” She leans closer, conspiratorial, her eyes twinkling with the gossip she's about to share. “Karen said he went to town twice last week to have a hot bath. If you knew Arthur like I know Arthur, why…you'd know that's highly out of character for him.”

“But you said he'd been quiet. Is that unusual for him, too?”

She hums and purses her lips. “Well you see, Arthur isn't usually a man of many words on a good day. But it's been real bad lately. He don't even give John a hard time like usual.”

You ponder the dominoes for a moment and then make your move. It doesn't earn you any points, but at least you didn't have to draw. “What do you think the problem is?” you ask, nonchalant as possible.

Mary-Beth smiles. Big and bright and sparkling. “Oh, it's not a problem at all.” She lowers her voice and cups her hand to her mouth. “Arthur's in love.”

You gasp, then giggle behind your hand, and Mary-Beth follows suit. Hosea looks on and shakes his head, so you quiet down, reaching across to grab Mary-Beth's hands. “Who do you think it is?”

Her cheeks are tinted pink, and she looks around to make sure there aren't any ears to hear. Word travels fast around camp if one isn't prudent. “I think it's you.”

A thunderstorm rips through Shady Belle a little over a week later. Your little tent that you share with Sadie is ripped straight off its supports in a terrible gust of wind, and you and the others hightail it inside the house to take cover just as it begins to hail. There's quite a ruckus as everyone huddles inside, windblown and rain-soaked. A few of the men hold up lanterns to illuminate the darkness while you watch the lightning and feel the thunder shake the old bones of the house.

“Everyone just calm down,” Dutch calls, descending the stairs, wearing some ridiculous robe with his arms spread wide. “Are we really gonna let a little old thunderstorm keep us from getting a good night's sleep?”

“Says the man with a bed inside the house,” Arthur bites, rounding the corner from what used to be the kitchen, holding a lantern up high in front of him. “Dutch, you better allow these ladies to take cover in here for tonight, or I'll–”

“Or you'll what, Mister Morgan? Pray tell, what kind of man do you take me for?” Dutch's eyes are fiery as he stares Arthur down; a display of dominance. A veritable cockfight.

Arthur's jaw twitches, but he doesn't back down. “The kind of man I should hope would have some goddamn respect for his family.”

There's a tense moment or two where everyone is quiet, then Dutch relents. “Fine, fine! But I expect everyone out there pitching in to clean up in the morning.” He points at Arthur and raises his voice again. “That includes the other man with a bed inside the house,” he sneers.

Arthur shakes his head, then looks away only to catch sight of you, shivering in your wet undergarments, huddled close to Mary-Beth for what little warmth the two of you can share. For a minute, he forgets to breathe, then composes himself enough to cross the room.

“Come on in here. Get yourself warm and dry by the fire.” His hand on your elbow is rough but warm as he leads you toward the fireplace. You nod and look back at Mary-Beth, who shoos you away with a flick of her wrist and a wink; you notice that her teeth are chattering. Despite the humidity that hangs heavy in the air, the temperature has turned chilly with the storm.

Arms crossed over your bosom to preserve any shred of modesty you might have left, you allow yourself to be led away by Arthur. Dutch and some of the others head upstairs while Charles and Javier keep watch from the front porch.

“You alright?” Arthur asks. He covers your shoulders with one of his heavy winter coats, and you pull it around you, grateful for the weight and warmth of it. Another clap of thunder shakes the house and you jump. Arthur chuckles.

“You laughin’ at me?” you quip, placing your palms flat in the direction of the fireplace. You don't even bother to hide the grin you feel curling on your lips.

“No madam, I am not,” Arthur says earnestly, taking a seat beside you on the old wooden crate he's set up as a makeshift bench.

“Then just what do you find so funny, Mister Morgan?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking into the flames. “Aw, I dunno. I'm sorry. It's just that you're…”

You bump him with your hip, unable to stop the giggles that bubble up from your chest. “I'm what?” you pry.

There's a clatter of something falling on the front porch, and Arthur uses it as a good excuse to get out of this hole he's dug for himself. “I better go see what's going on out there. Charles might need my help.”

“I'm what, Arthur?!” you call, to no avail. He's gone before he can see the proverbial hearts in your eyes.

The saloon in Rhodes is a little nicer than the ones you visited in Valentine, though it's a far cry from the ones you used to frequent in Saint Denis. Still, when Sadie and the other girls decide that it's high time you have a little fun in town, you throw on your best dress and let Karen curl your hair and even apply a little of the makeup you snagged from a homestead up north. For the first time in months, you feel like a proper woman. There isn't time to be melancholy about the past, though, when the boys start whistling and cat-calling upon the sight of you and the other girls.

“Aw, knock it off!” Sadie hollers. She's decided to dress up a little tonight, too, much to everyone's surprise. But she hikes up her skirts to hop into the wagon, calling for the rest of you all to hurry it up. “I've got a bottle of rum with my name on it that's waiting for me to come drink her all down!”

You catch the sunset on the way to town. It's dazzling over the meadows, all golden light and warm, blazing oranges and reds that settle into a brilliant pink by the time your reach the main road into Rhodes. You wish you could see Arthur's eyes, but he's got a handle on the reins next to Charles in the front of the wagon. You've seen him watching the sunset before; he always looks so peaceful those evenings at camp, and you often wonder what he thinks about in those few minutes before the horizon is painted in pastel hues.

Karen starts singing a song that everyone eventually joins, and before you know it, you're pulling up in front of the Rhodes Parlour House. You can already hear the piano and a few voices from outside; the sound of it stirs something in your soul that makes you long for the familiarity of home, but you quickly shove it aside in favor of the company of your new family.

“Madam.” Arthur's voice brings you out of your thoughts and back into the present, where he waits at the back of the wagon with his hand extended to you. You beam at him, and he feels dizzy. And when your soft hand fits into his, he straightens his knees so they don't buckle and betray him.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirts to step out onto the dirt road.

Arthur leans in, dangerously close to your ear. You can smell the whisky and cigarettes on his breath, along with the faint tang of gunpowder and hair pomade. “You sure do look nice in that dress.”

You demure and fan yourself with your hand. “Just how much have you had to drink already tonight?” you giggle.

“Ahh, just a little nip to take the edge off.”

“Mm-hm. Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say.”

The night starts off relatively calm, as most nights do. You and the other girls find an empty table to sit and pick up on the town gossip, and the men start a hand of poker. It grows loud and crowded sometime around midnight, and it's hard to have a conversation without shouting over the din of voices, the clink of glass bottles, and the slow drag ragtime music from the piano. The ambiance is charming and lighthearted, and there are even a few couples drunkenly dancing on the porch.

You push back in your chair and find that when you stand, you're a little more wobbly than you thought you would be. The alcohol has loosened you more than you realize, and you grip the table for support until you feel a firm arm around your waist. “Whoa there.”

It's Arthur, who has won the last round of poker and has come to check in on you and the other ladies. You're pulled tight against his chest for one fleeting moment, and you look up into his eyes. He, too, seems drunk, with his eyes gleaming and drooping at the corners, his smile easy and his cheeks flushed.

“My knight in shining armor,” you slur, pretending to faint in his embrace. He only pulls you tighter against him, both of his broad hands splayed across your back. You laugh, and he smiles.

“You weren't getting another drink, were ya?” he questions with a raise of his brow.

“‘m thirsty,” you whine, lifting your empty glass entirely too close to his face. It knocks against his nose, which sends you into another fit of laughter.

Arthur takes your wrist– gentle but firm– and lowers the glass away. “Think you need to drink something that's not whiskey,” he drawls. You can't help but watch the way his lips form around the words; the slip of his tongue between his teeth, the way his mouth turns up into the hint of a smile when you pout. Before you can think too long and hard about it, you lunge forward and kiss him. Hard and clumsy and impulsive. You don't give him time to react. You're far too involved in the kiss to notice, but the girls at the table behind you have all gone silent. Arthur slides his hand along the side of your face and presses his fingers upon the nape of your neck, kissing you back like he really means it. (He really does.)

You pull back suddenly, breathless and reeling, swiping the back of your hand over your mouth. You're still held firm in his embrace, but the playfulness in his gaze has been replaced with an intensity that makes your knees weak all over again.

“What'd ya do that for?” he asks.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you started it.”

“And you finished it.”

“Oh, I ain't finished with you, yet.”

“That a promise or a threat?” Your pulse is thumping wildly in your ears.

“Ya know, they got rooms upstairs for that!” Sadie shouts. There's a ripple of laughter across the table. Arthur's hand on your cheek feels like a brand, his arm about your waist an anchor. The rest of the room comes back to you in a woozy blur, and you look around, a little lovestruck and a whole lot drunk. Arthur's lips at your temple make your eyes flutter shut, and the room fades to black as tIt'weight of you slumps against him. He staggers only slightly, but holds you firm, chuckling softly.

“It's a promise,” he whispers.

You come to some hours later. Your mouth is dry as the desert, your head feels like lead, your skin broken out in a cold, uncomfortable sweat. At some point, it seems you were covered with a downy soft blanket, and the pillow at your head is much more fluffy than the makeshift one you made out of a bedroll at camp. At first, you think you're dreaming. Then, you wonder very briefly if you're back at your childhood home in Saint Denis. You almost call out to your mother when you hear a soft snore from the other side of your bed.

The room spins when you turn your head, and you rub your eyes until Arthur comes into focus. He's sprawled in an armchair a few feet away. His arms are crossed over his chest while his chin is tucked into his chest. Off to the side, you spy his boots; his big toe pokes through a hole in his sock and you smile at how vulnerable he looks.

“Arthur,” you whisper, shifting slightly as you pull the blanket up around your chin.

He grunts and lifts his head slowly. He frowns a little at first, but when he focuses on you lying there, so close he could reach out and kiss you again like he did last night, there's a slow, easy smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey there, party girl. You feeling alright?”

You could kick yourself for all the giggling you've done around him lately, but you can't help it. He brings out something giddy and downright foolish inside you, so you toss a pillow at him and bury your face in the sheets.

“Aw, come on now. I'm just messin’ with ya.” He leans forward and rubs your head affectionately. “I'd say you were feeling pretty good last night.”

It's in that moment a white-hot jolt of sheer panic shoots down your spine. Quickly, you check to make sure you're still wearing clothes. Aside from your breasts being a little lopsided in the confines of your bodice, you're relieved to find that your dress is still intact and– more importantly– on your body. You dare another peek at Arthur and notice that his shirt is unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and he's discarded his vest somewhere, but he, too, is fully clothed. Thank the good Lord above.

You must've said that last part aloud, because Arthur laughs. “Don't worry, nothing happened. Though it weren't for lack of tryin’ on your part,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought I was gonna have to lock you in here like some feral cat till you settled down.”

Oh. Oh Lord. You try to recall what happened that led you to this room, but all that comes to mind is a lot of loud conversation, some dancing, a spilled drink across Sadie's lap, and Arthur's hand on the side of your cheek. “Oh…”

Now you remember it in vivid detail.

“Didn't know you cared for me like that,” he says. It's earnest and tender, a few shades less intense than the kiss you now recall, the one where it felt like he wanted to eat you alive right there in the middle of the saloon. Now, he thumbs your cheek and looks at you so fondly you swear your heart jumps right up in your throat. “I mean, I'd been hoping. Wasn't sure you was looking for a romance.” He huffs a short sigh, frustrated with himself. “Aw, hell, what am I saying? ‘Course you weren't. You're just looking to survive, just like the rest of us, and here I–”

“Shut up,” you say, taking hold of his hand and tugging him closer. He resists until you pull even harder, watching the fire in your eyes blaze to life. “You talk too much, Yankee.”

“I ain't no damn–”

“Kiss me.”

He's over you in an instant; you're pressed flat against the bed, completely and totally at his mercy. This kiss feels different than the drunken one last night. It's sober and honest, if not a little hesitant, as if he's holding himself back from devouring you wholly. The warmth of his body against yours takes your breath away. Or maybe it's the way his tongue laves heavy into your mouth, unashamed of how badly he craves the taste of you. You grip his hair at the roots and tug him down to kiss him harder, lifting your upper body to meet him until he presses down, his chest flush with yours.

Things get heated quickly.

His mouth moves across your cheek, down your neck, and he groans against your skin, rutting his cock against your thigh. You fleetingly wish that he had managed to get you out of that dress before he presumably tucked you into bed and passed out in that chair, because there’s a whole lot of fabric between you and him that really pisses you off right now. Arthur must feel much the same, because he’s bunching your skirts up past your knees while you’re fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to feel him against you, inside you. It’s clumsy and crazed, rushed and rough, but you manage somehow to shuck off every last bit of your clothes and his until you’re breathless and so, so eager beneath him.

“Need you now,” you whine. You feel insane. Dizzy and dehydrated, impossibly turned on, every nerve ending on fire when his callused hands grip the fat of your thighs and open you to him.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?” One of his hands slips between your legs to find you wet and swollen. He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and pushes a finger inside you; the sound you make nearly has him finishing there on the sheets, so he wastes no time in getting himself as close to you as humanly possible.

“Never wanted something so bad,” he murmurs into the dip of your shoulder. He wants all of you– all at once– wants to fuse his hands against your skin and sink himself into you so deep that it would be impossible to tell where he ends and you begin. The heat from his body takes away what little breath you have left, his mouth on each part of your body building the buzz in your chest until you feel like you might just burst open. You grabbed at each other like it was the first and last time you might have this opportunity, as if you wanted more than what the other of you was able to give.

Considering the kind of life you’ve both led so far, it’s a good possibility that you might never get to do this again.

“Give it to me,” you plead, opening yourself further to him, fingers wrapped firm around the base of his cock. “Please.”

Arthur Morgan is a man of incredible strength and self restraint, except when it comes to a woman like you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he takes you. It’s primal, sweaty, filthy, rough. Arthur pushes as far inside you as he can go, then pushes further when you beg for more. He cups your knees with slick palms and presses you open as far as you can bend; you tug roughly at his hair and bite down on his shoulder when the pleasure builds to a blinding ferocity. The wooden bedframe knocks angrily against the wall with each thrust, but you can’t bring yourself to care if anyone hears. You can’t focus on anything beyond the feeling of him filling you with every stroke of his cock, of the taut, corded muscle in his back and shoulders as you grapple to hang on as tight as you can. Your orgasm hits your hard and fast, and he encourages you through it, taking his time to give you long, controlled strokes. It’s as pleasurable for him as it is for you. “‘Atta girl,” he rasps, lips moving against your ear. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries, but he pulls it away and threads his fingers with yours, pressing it onto the pillow. “I wanna hear it.”

Your moans are what drive him over the edge.

He buries his face against the side of your neck, panting heavily as he comes, driving into you so hard that you can almost feel the mattress beneath you begin to sag under the weight. You cradle his head in your hands and link your legs around his waist, boneless and languid in the aftermath of your own pleasure. When he moves, you move with him, riding out the waves together until you’re both too tired to move another muscle.

Neither of you speak for a while. He lies on his back with an arm around your shoulders while you curl against him, tuned into his heartbeat and swirling little patterns into the hair on his chest. It’s comforting to feel him next to you, to watch his chest rise and fall as he steadies his breathing, to soak up the warmth of his skin against yours.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Did everyone else go back to camp last night?”

Arthur nods slowly. “Something tells me they planned all this.”

“Planned it? You mean…” You lift your arm slowly and flick your wrist to acknowledge the room you’re laying in. “This?” You lift your chin and grin at him. “Or getting us together?”

“Room was paid for before I even had a chance to ask if they had one,” he explains. “Think it was Mrs. Adler.”

You vaguely recall her shouting something about a room after you kissed Arthur last night, and you shake your head. “You complaining?”

He turns to his side, draping an arm across your hip. “Me? Never.” You’re suddenly pressed beneath him once again; from the looks of it, you won’t be getting out of this bed anytime soon. “Specially when I’ve got you here to help me keep warm.”

[fanged-fanfics]

Hello I was thinking what if shadowmilk lover can make themself tiny and like hang out in shadowmilk hair ALOT, when he about to get in a fight knowing it will take a while he just pull his lover out of his hair and give them to black sapphire where he know they be safe and he put shadowmilk's lover in his packet and keep a close eye on candy apple making sure she won't try anything to them.

☆ Mayhem In All Sizes — Shadow Milk Cookie x GN Reader HCs ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 When you first transformed into a smaller version of yourself, Shadow Milk had scooped you up and immediately began gushing about how cute it was. You were the size of his palm, and could perfectly cradle into his pocket

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Anytime you felt like it, he'd carry you on his shoulder, in a little bag, or even have you hide under his hat! That was when you had the idea to burrow into his hair and peek out when something interesting was happening

ᯓᡣ𐭩 There's been plenty of times where Shadow Milk would have to deal with some idiot, so he'd gently let Black Sapphire take hold of watching you for the time being while he went to make crumbs out of them

"Here, hold them if you please~!" Shadow Milk had sang, placing your miniature form into Black Sapphire's palms. "Of course, Shadow Milk Cookie! Consider it done" Black Sapphire said, saluting while balancing you on his shoulder. "Good, good! I'll be just a moment, my snooky-bear!" Shadow Milk called out to you, before turning to the stranger Cookie who had dared to insult him. "Nooww! Where were we?" Shadow Milk asked, voice dropping to menacing as Black Sapphire handed you a mini jelly snack

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Candy Apple loves to try to makeshift little outfits for you so you'll have something to do when in tiny form. Why not try modeling? Might as well, yeah? This one's even got a matching gloves set!

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Black Sapphire always bickered with Candy Apple over your head about it. This is a teammate, not some doll! Shadow Milk wanted you safe, not dolled up in something made out of tissues!

ᯓᡣ𐭩 While the two minions bickered, Shadow Milk was finally starting to come back. He dusted his hands off, cleaning crumbs off of his outfit. Once he saw you, his grin came back in full force, and you were scooped into his arms

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "There we go! No more of those idiots, dear! Just us again" The snickering jester said, nuzzling into the top of your head. You laughed a little, letting him carry you to his shoulder and scooting back into place. Black Sapphire and Candy Apple immediately straightened up at his arrival

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You got your way back into his hair, climbing up until you reached the top of his head. When you resurfaced, you poked out of the edge of his hat to look around. The deceitful cookie giggled at the sight, while Black Sapphire and Candy Apple were fighting over what to eat for dinner

[m00nkeiki]

First Hug from Ace, Sabo, and Law

As part of the “First Hugs” Series Featuring: Ace, Sabo, and Law Content Warning: Nothing serious, just a little sadder than the last set of headcannons.

Ace

Ace is your fellow “friendly fella,” the guy who seems to be there for everyone and anything! But deep down, the poor dude battles with such deeply ingrained self doubt and loathing to the point he wonders if even he himself is even worthy of giving affection.

With all that said, you’ve grown such a fond friendship with him, the kind where surely but slowly Ace knew he could trust you. 

You were both out camping on a quiet night, exchanging stories, sharing laughs… Like the warm fire which Ace himself created with his powers, it was a lovely cozy night the two of you shared together.

Then there’s a window for the two of you to be vulnerable with one another. You always knew Ace was truly troubled deep down, so why not share some struggles of yours? 

When you do, he listens to you intently, his eyes locked on your face as he is overcome with the realization that… he is not alone, that even if he might be the most hated person in the world, he has his crew and you to count on.

Once you finish telling your stories, you’re suddenly met with Ace bringing you into one of the tightest hugs ever: it’s firm, assuring, and full of fiery empathy. He’s tearing up, not profusely so, but you can tell that he’s dropping all his walls to be there for you wholeheartedly.

“Thank you for always being there for me… and I’ll be there for you too, promise!”

Sabo 

You always knew Sabo was a gentleman, not only in his manners, but also in his heart. He conducted politeness and grace in a way he was heartfelt and genuine about it. He is a man who is so earnestly reliable, and you could always count on him.

Like a ray of light after the rain, Sabo came to your aid when he sighted you sulking and crying in the middle of the street. With an umbrella in his hand, he shielded you from the rain that hides your tears.

Following him, Sabo ensured the umbrella shielded you all the way until you found shelter. You noticed how he barely covered for himself, letting the rain soak his hat and coat: that parasol he had in hand was for you and you alone.

Once you reached indoors as Sabo withdrew the umbrella and took off his hat, you found that you could not halt yourself from crying again: he was simply too kind, how could he do all this for you?

With your emotions displayed in front of him, Sabo leads his hand to caress, from wiping the tear below your eye and down to your cheek. As you leaned towards him, both his arms had enclosed you in a warm hug.

“It does not matter how heavy your burden is. I will be by your side, always.”

Law

Law’s not afraid of affection—he’s afraid of loving and caring too much until he loses you at the worst possible time.

After the polar tang maneuvered through blizzards and iceberg filled waters, once it resurfaced, you took the time to gaze at the soft falling snow, a breathtaking respite.

Following you was Law, who claimed he too was only going to get some fresh air: but really, it was to see if you were alright

Law can act as pragmatic as he wants, but once you noticed him attempting to intertwine your hands with a small touch from his inked fingers, you knew he needed this company.

As the snow watch ends, he quietly asks if you could turn around for him. Before you knew it, Law brought you in a trembling hug, his arms soon stabilizing the moment he could hear your heartbeat, soothing and slowing the rhythm of his own which was beating so fast a while ago.

“Please, stay alive for me… Because I’ll make sure I’ll do the same for you even if it means facing hell itself.”

Huddling together in the cold of the evening, both of you reassured that silent promise, locked in this embrace. The future is uncertain, but at least relish in this time and moment with Law.

A/N: Since I've already written for Luffy, Law was sneaked into be the L of ASL :-P

More in the series: (Luffy + Zoro + Sanji)

[hederasgarden]

Preview: On the Horizon

Summary: You've been pining over your coworker for a while now. He might not have realized but someone has.

Paring: Tyler Owens x F!Reader (with minor Scott x F!Reader)

Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Angst, smut, flirting and asshole!Scott A/N: Thanks to @writercole for the summary. Hoping to have this fic out next weekend!

You brush the sweat from your brow as you surreptitiously watch Scott work beside you. He doesn't seem bothered by the heat, typing away on his computer despite the stagnant air. It makes you long for the cool labs you used to work in before Javi recruited you. Although he'd likely tell you this weather was perfect for a storm, you're miserable. Meteorology wasn't even your field; you were here for your engineering expertise to handle the specialized equipment the team needed to gather their data.

From your vantage point on the tailgate of the truck, you observe the other storm chasers gather around Tyler Owens' red truck. The man in question emerges with a brilliant smile, and beside you, Scott scoffs, annoyed. He hates Tyler, and you're pretty sure the feeling is mutual from the brief interactions you've observed.

"Ass," Scott mutters, returning his attention to his computer.

When you look up again Tyler's gaze falls on you. He grins and winks, pulling down the brim of his hat in acknowledgment. Before you can react, he's turned to speak to one of the young women on his team, giving her his full attention. A hand rests casually on her shoulder.

You wish Scott would acknowledge you like that. You thought things would be different after the night you shared weeks ago, but he'd been quick to dash those hopes the next morning, ignoring you completely. He only seemed to look at you when he needed your tech skills or when you made a mistake. Your cheeks still burn from his last reprimand in front of the team.

Clearing your throat, his eyes briefly land on you before returning to the screen in front of him. "What?" he demands.

"Oh. I was going to get something to eat. Do you want something?”

"Yeah, you know what I like," he says dismissively. When it's clear that's all you're getting from him, you push off the truck onto the dusty road with a soft exhale and head into the gas station.

The air conditioning inside practically makes you groan with relief, and you take a moment to appreciate the cool air.

"You're not melting on us, are you, city girl?" You jump at the unexpected voice, surprised to see it belongs to Tyler. "MIT got you all wound up, huh?” He questions, amused. 

"What?"

"Your boss," he clarifies. 

"Oh, he's um... he's not my boss. Javi is."

"No?" he questions, brows raised. "Well, he certainly barks at you like he is."

Heat rushes to your face as you realize Tyler must have overheard Scott reprimand you yesterday after you miscalibrated one of the sensors.

"If you worked with my team, I'd be a lot nicer," he says.

You stare at him, unsure how to respond to his comment or the flirty tone. Before today you’d hardly spoken, he mostly interacted with Javi or Scott.  You’re saved from answering when the bell on the door jingles and someone calls your name. 

It’s Scott. 

"Owens," he bites out, surprising you when he rests a hand on your shoulder and stands close enough that you feel his shirt brush your arm. Your lips part and your lashes flutter in response. 

Tyler's gaze drops briefly to your mouth before returning to your face with a knowing smile.  "Well, I enjoyed our chat," he tells you, not bothering to acknowledge Scott. "We should do this again, sweetheart."

"What did he want?" Scott demands, move to stand in front of you after Tyler’s gone.

"Oh, nothing. Just... saying hi."

Scott's jaw tenses, and he steps into your space, cupping your elbow. "You shouldn't talk to him," he advises.

When he tilts his head to stare down at you, something flickers in his dark brown eyes that looks an awful lot like jealousy. You glance over your shoulder at Tyler, only to have Scott say your name again, more forcefully. When you turn back around your suspicions are confirmed. For the first time since that night in the hotel room, you have Scott’s full attention and that sends a thrill of excitement through you.

You bite your lip, the beginning of an idea coming together.

Part 1 is now out!

[mashtatosworld]

heiress of my heart

summary: G-Dad and Diva have a shopping addiction...

The day usually starts with the little diva waking up the whole house.

Not crying - no, she was far too dramatic and refined for that. Instead, she simply calls out for her Appa, repeatedly, until he has no choice but to wake up and get her from the crib.

"Appa." A pause. "Appa." Another pause. "APPA."

Jiyong groans beside you, his face buried in the pillow. Zoa sat loafed on his back. "Five more minutes," he mumbles.

"APPA."

You sigh, sitting up in bed and carefully plucking the grey cat off his back, pulling her into your arms. She settled immediately, always ready for a cuddle. "She’s not stopping until you go get her."

“I hurt, jagi," Jiyong peeks at you through messy hair, pouting. "Why aren't you hungover?"

You had shared a bottle of wine last night after putting Diva to bed.

"Because I'm not an old man," you smirk teasingly.

Defeated, he rolls out of bed, shuffling down the hall in his plush Chanel robe and slippers - because even half-asleep, Kwon Jiyong is still Jiyong. The father of your diva.

He returns moments later with said baby in his arms, her small hands clinging onto his pyjama shirt as she rests her cheek against his shoulder.

"She said she only wants Eomma now," he complains, dropping onto the bed with his mini-me. "I was just the transport."

Diva crawls towards you and snuggles into your side, gently petting the sleeping cat with one finger, just like you'd taught her. You smile at her lovingly.

Jiyong sighs dramatically. “I give this child everything...”

But he doesn’t mean it - because ten minutes later, after some morning milk and cartoons, your diva is climbing all over him, stealing his hat, and demanding attention.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Jiyong insists on dressing Diva every morning.

"She has to be cool, jagi. She’s my daughter.”

Today, he’s in front of her wardrobe, holding up two outfits.

"This one?" He shows her a tiny blue Burberry sweater and cargo pants.

"Or this one?" A Chanel dress with tiny matching shoes.

Diva stares at him blankly. Then she points at her pajamas.

“No.” Jiyong is scandalised. “We don’t wear pyjamas all day in this house.”

You sip your coffee, sitting beside Diva on the floor, thoroughly amused. “You do."

“I'm an old man, remember?” he defends, using your own words against you, before turning back to your daughter.

Diva yawns and crawls into your lap. She’s over it.

Jiyong sighs, heading back into her wardrobe for more inspiration.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Jiyong doesn’t go anywhere without Diva by his side. Whether it’s a quick errand, a café trip, or a studio visit - she’s his little shadow.

Today, he takes her out shopping since you wanted to work on writing some new songs and it was nearly impossible with the pair of them around.

If Diva wasn't clinging to your legs, it was Jiyong.

But only an hour after they left, you receive a Facetime call on your phone. It’s Jiyong and Diva, inside a store. He’s pointing his camera at a Chanel bag on display.

"Should we get this for Eomma?"

Diva stands beside it, holding a smaller, identical one, nodding her head.

Jiyong flips the camera to his face, and chuckles. "She has Eomma’s taste."

You roll your eyes, "Ji, I don't need another one."

"Yah, yah bad connection in here- gotta go, we love you!"

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Hours later, they stop for snacks at a quiet café.

Diva sips from a Chanel-branded baby cup. Yet another purchase he'd have to disguise from you. But to Jiyong, it was an investment. Your next babies would get to use it too.

Jiyong, feeling sentimental, strokes her tiny hand.

“You know, Princess, someday, you might have a little brother or sister.”

Diva freezes.

She slowly lowers her cup.

Jiyong waits.

She stares at him for a long moment.

Then -

She throws her cup onto the floor.

Jiyong jumps. “What - ”

Diva glares. “No.”

He blinks. “No?”

She crosses her arms. “No.”

“Baby, you’d be the best big sister!”

Diva shakes her head violently.

Jiyong looks around, panicked. “Okay, okay, let’s not - ”

But Diva is already kicking her legs, huffing, and looking seconds away from a meltdown.

Jiyong FaceTimes you immediately.

As soon as you pick up, you hear Diva wailing in the background.

Jiyong looks stressed. “Jagi, we have a crisis.”

You blink, putting your pen down with a sigh. “What did you do?”

“I said she might get a sibling, and now she’s - ” he turns the camera.

Diva is full-on sulking, arms folded, cheeks puffed, absolute betrayal on her face.

You laugh. “She’s one and a half. She’ll change her mind.”

Jiyong looks horrified. “But what if she doesn’t?”

“She will.”

He turns back to Diva. “Baby, don’t you want someone to play with?”

Diva pouts.

"Princess?"

She turns her head away dramatically.

Jiyong deflates. “She’s ignoring me.”

You laugh harder. “You’re scared of her.”

“I am not!”

“Yes, you are.”

He never tells her off. In all fairness, he never really had to. They were two peas in a pod.

Jiyong sighs. “I might be.”

And then - he hangs up.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Jiyong carries Diva inside, arms full of shopping bags.

You stare. “Jiyong - ”

He cuts you off. “Before you say anything, we've had a stressful day.”

You fold your arms. His idea of retail therapy was excessive.

He sets Diva down, and she immediately runs off calling for the cats, her tiny shoes tapping against the floor. He shifts under your scrutiny, finally admitting, "I had to buy my way back into her heart, okay?"

You blink, glancing at the sheer number of bags he’s just abandoned in the entryway. “Ji, I’m sure a juice box would have cut it.”

He drops onto the chair opposite you, rubbing his face. “You weren’t there. She looked at me like I’d betrayed her. My own daughter.”

You laugh. “I did warn you. She needs friends other than us.”

He groans. “Jagi, what are we gonna do?” His voice is almost distant, like he’s lost in some great, existential crisis.

You laugh, closing your notebook. “Not let our lives be ruled by a toddler?”

He gives you a look. “What do you mean?”

Diva’s voice rings from the other room. “Appa, juice!”

Jiyong is already on his feet. “Coming, my Princess!”

You watch him go, shaking your head. A wave of love washed over you so you opened your notebook again, finally feeling the words pour out of you.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

i wrote this for another fic i'll be posting soon! featuring the adventures of g-dad, eomma and diva ofc

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev

[mellowyellow236]

How would the TWST boys act when they’re jealous?

This is Diasomnia's section- Link to Heartslabyul. All characters are meant to be interpreted as romantic. The reader is gender-neutral. There may be mild spoilers as to who overblots and other facts. Some of them might have Yandere tendencies, though nothing graphic or descriptive and always very mild, they’ll be marked with a ‘Y’ if they do. Mainly because sometimes the boys are calm and talk through their feelings… And sometimes they go down possessive insecurity-included spirals. If anyone has anything to add or any questions, please leave a reblog or comment! Requests are open if anyone wants. 

Malleus Draconia - 

Malleus gets jealous very, very easily. He loves you, obviously, but he’s a dragon. You’re a part of his horde. And just like his gold and jewels and artifacts, he’s not willing to let you be stolen away from him, in any way. 

He desires you. You’re his crown jewel, a shining star, the only light in the darkness. His entire life, his one true friend and lover. And he knows- He hates it so much- But he knows that you’ll leave him one day. He will outlive you. You will leave him. So do whatever it is you need to punish him for acting out, but he’ll be the one in a casket before he gives up your meager time to anyone else. 

He’s in love, and you couldn’t possibly deny him, could you? Please don’t. He knows that you have your friends, that he can’t be your only. But don’t deny him the right to love you in whatever way will make them leave- If they are intimidated by your love, let it happen. Let it happen. Let them leave you, Malleus never will.

Lilia Vanrouge - 

Hey, Beastie… Who are ya with there? A friend? Oh, how cute! You think that he’s going to get jealous, don’t you? Well, guess what? Lilia isn’t in the slightest! Why, you’re so silly, Beastie! 

What? That wasn’t an attempt at making Lilia jealous? You’re telling him that man right there honestly likes you. You? Why, no, you’re not the undesirable one. You’re beautiful in every way. But that’s Lilia’s job- To make you feel special, to make you feel good, to make you feel loved- And that man thinks he can replace him in it. He thinks he could do better than Lilia could. 

How dare he. Lilia will whisk you off your feet and away at the drop of a hat. He’s an old Fae who never believed he could feel something as simple as jealousy for a human but now look at him. Look at him craving you, look at him loving you, look at him holding you close, so close, until you leave him the same way his other lovers did. But please. Look at him. 

Silver “Vanrouge” - (I am sorry Silver fans, the boy did not want to be written in Headcanon form)

Silver was stretching in the back of the gym as he spied you walking in. It wasn’t odd for you to be there, of course, you would often come in and say hello to him. He expected you to do the same that day, so he paid no mind as you talked to another student first. You shared your last class of the day with him, no? So it wasn’t weird. 

But then another student comes up and joins your conversation. You’re popular- You deserve to be popular- So Silver still isn’t shocked. You are allowed to have more friends than him and a large amount of friends and fun activities is a sign of healthy living. 

It isn’t until you’ve spent half the period and Silver still hasn’t gotten onto his broom as he waits for you to come over that he takes matters into his own hands. He easily walks up to you, putting a hand on your shoulder, and as you push into him he easily melts back into you, all of his jealousy pouring away as your attention has returned to its rightful place. 

Sebek Zigvolt - 

Sebek doesn’t recognize that he’s jealous, no matter how obvious it is. He’s only caring for you because he has to. You are merely a silly little human, much weaker than a half-fae like him. And then you go off with a different human! You two together could never compare to him, so why is it that you’re not by his side? 

Human! How dare you go off without Sebek there, you could be hurt! While he might not care for you at all, you are liked by the great Wakasama, and thus you must be protected for the sake of his lord’s honor. If Sebek’s weakness made Malleus cry, what could ever become of him? How can you not see that? 

Oh, you were with Malleus…? But… Sebek still needs to protect his lord, even if you are not there! He can defend himself from any magical threats, but he… might… be hurt by you and your weak human feelings! How would you be able to hurt Wakasama…? Shut up, human! Your mind simply cannot comprehend the horrors that he must plan for as his lord’s future guard!

[mywritersmind]

YOUR INITIALS ON MY HAT - LN4

summary : lando doesn’t think his new hat fits him, so he gives it to you.

listen up : no warnings!! lando x piastri!reader

word count : 564

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I watch Lando and Oscar open up their presents, I can’t help but laugh as my cousin raises a brow at me, holding up his cowboy boots.

I cross my own boots at my ankles, smoothing down my white dress. “Oh cool, I like it!” Oscar grins at the cameras as Lando pulls a hat from the box.

It’s plain and white, Lando’s fingers trace over his initials at the back, smiling. “You’re turning full texan!” Oscar laughs, nodding to me.

“Yeah, Norris the hat really ties in with your mullet look.” Lando turns to look at me, shooting me a devastating smirk that makes my knees weak.

I never get to see Oscar outside of family gatherings which are usually in Australia where I rarely visit. He thought it was a perfect idea to invite me to COTA, knowing it was genuinely one of my dreams, I jumped at the opportunity.

Oscar struggles with his boots as Lando places the cowboy hat over his curls. He frowns when it doesn’t fit onto his head, “Think I might need your help, tex.” I've known this man for less than two days and he already has a nickname for me.

When I questioned it yesterday, he didn’t miss a beat, just struggled and said, “Tex as in texan.”

And now we’re here. He’s beckoning me over, I slip my phone in my jean jacket’s pocket and stand a bit on my toes to pull the day down correctly, “You wouldn’t last a day on a ranch.”

He just looks down at me, a smile on his face, “I would If I had you.” The way he says it makes all the heat in my body go to my cheeks, my hands still on his hat.

I give it an extra tug which he winces at, “Harsh, Tex, harsh.” His icy eyes narrow and I can’t help but smile.

“All better!” I step back, remembering we have an audience. He looks good. Like really good.

I was right, the mullet fits annoying well with the hat. He frowns still though, his hands adjusting the hat still, “Cool hat but…don’t think it’s for me.” His eyes move from me to my cousin.

Lando and I laugh at the same time, staring at Oscar who’s looking uncomfortable and stiff in his boots. “Wow, Osc! Shorts are bold!”

He looks up to me, his eyes narrowing. Lando shakes his head, “Please tell me those will become a new staple!”

A man with a camera snaps a photo of Lando, who’s photo I know will look funny because he blinked. He then turns to Oscar as Lando pulls the hat off his head.

I frown a bit at a hatless Lando, but I'm staring at his curls again so it’s not all bad. “Not a fan?” I motion to the hat.

“Nah… think it may look better on someone else.” He drops it right on my head, pulling it down over my hair.

It’s a bit big and he tilts it back so he can see my eyes, “I was right.” He smiles and I pretend like his soft words aren’t making my insides flip.

I barely realize that Oscar’s calling my name until Lando looks away from me, looking annoyed at my cousin “Come on, we’ve got this thing called racing to do!”

[moonlight-prose]

WONDERING WHY

a/n: this is for the logan promptober hosted by the lovely @silverskyeline! i'm not gonna do the whole list cause i would stress myself out to an insane degree. but a few caught my eye. so i've thrown together some small fics for the man himself in the hopes of scattering them throughout october. this is also late one day cause of well me having a shitty time in life rn. but i hope y'all enjoy!

logan promptober: day six - cowboy

summary: loving logan howlett felt like loving a ghost. he returned when the moon hung low in the sky and his time gave way for freedom. but when you needed him most, he arrived on your doorstep with the promise of giving you exactly what you want.

word count: 3.5k+

pairing: cowboy!old man!logan x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MDNI IT'S 18+ ONLY, romance, love, angst, longing, pining, they're obsessed with each other, filthy kissing, p in v sex, rough sex, spit, choking (sorta), calling the pussy her/she, he's an old man who fucks insanely well, feral old man logan.

Pale moonlight brushed across the Earth with strokes of paint. Stars were sprinkled along the night sky, glimmering in darkness as you leaned against the doorway of your home. The lantern flame flickered with each waft of cool air that breezed past you. Pooling inside where a fire cracked and sparked—offering enough warmth to keep you sated for the remainder of time.

At least until he returned home.

You listened for the familiar clop of hooves, the click of his tongue guiding the horse where to go. Hoping that eventually he’d turn the bend in the dirt road and find his way back to the safety of your shared bed.

This was a routine you knew well—one you found solace in as the days grew short and sunlight became sparse. In summer he often returned when the clock struck midnight; the weariness of a long day spent riding through towns and hunting with others was normal. If a little grueling. Although you never complained. You knew who he was when you met him—understood the ups and downs of what this relationship would be.

Logan wasn’t anything if true to his word right at the start. I’m not gonna be here every day sugar, but I’ll be here when you need me.

Eventually you’d have to blow out the lantern and amble back indoors. Calling it quits on yet another night spent alone. He didn’t like it when you were out past a certain time—raiders and hunters alike were more than willing to break in without remorse. Especially if they didn’t know who resided inside, who shared your bed on nights like tonight.

“I need you,” you sighed, shutting your eyes to the sight of an empty road.

They were empty words of hope strung together to make a wish on whatever star caught your eye. Rarely did they work. Although some nights you wondered if magic twined with your solemn prayer—summoning the man you so desperately wanted. It was wishful thinking, a well full of reverie you continuously drank from. Although maybe it was the poison that would one day cause you to drop dead. Maybe…Logan was a figment of all that you could never have.

He might not even exist.

Your eyes fluttered open, glancing up at the sky with anticipation of a falling star. The echo of hooves along dirt drew your attention from your nightly ritual—curiosity pulling you close and whispering promises of giving you everything you wanted. It was probably a stranger. Someone looking for an easy place to spend the night. Logan always told you to say no with a shotgun in your hands, and your body tensed in preparation to grab for the gun propped near the doorway.

Relief flooded your veins at the sight of a familiar dark brown leather coat, his hat tipped low enough to hide the eyes that loomed beneath—glinting with a darkness you'd only seen once or twice in your time together. Calloused and scarred hands gripped loosley at the reins as the horse trotted up the path—finding it's way home with ease.

There was a pull between the two of you. Insatiable and feral and strong enough to have him searching for you the second he drew closer to the house. Hazel eyes fatigued by the long trip back locked onto your form. Plush skin and curves hidden beneath layers of a dress you had yet to strip off.

You would leave that to him, knowing how much he enjoyed tugging at the strings of your corset—undoing the buttons to set you free.

"Gonna catch your fuckin' death," he muttered, his boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. You relished the sound, unable to stop your smile.

"I was waiting for you."

He huffed, wrapped the reins around the wooden fence he built steadily over the years—the leather bag on his saddle now strapped over his wide shoulder. "Shouldn't be waitin' on a man like me sugar."

"You always say that."

"And I'm always right."

"Would you prefer I wait on someone else?" you inquired, a challenge glinting in your eyes.

He bit back a growl, hand settling on your hip to drag you to the edge of the front step as he stepped to the one below. "Are you tryin' to tell me somethin'?"

The possession in his eyes made your heart race, your fingers digging into the soft leather permeated by the scent of cigars smoked in various saloons. He felt familiar, a home you didn't know could exist within another person. The house you two built resided in his heart; the missing piece you searched for on nights spent without him. But now you had it in your grasp—fitting it back into place with a sigh of bliss.

The picture of peace finally pressed itself to your soul, caressing a part of your love that left each time he mounted his horse—the promise of coming home on the tip of his tongue.

"I haven't found someone else yet, but I very well could-"

The rumble in his chest was layered with everything he'd never say with words. "Try it," he growled. "And I'll have to make a fuckin' graveyard out back."

Heat pooled rapidly into your stomach, elation fluttering through your heart. You knew an animal hid in the depths of his chest. Feral with claws and teeth that snapped at the thought of someone taking what was his. You'd never belong to someone else. You'd never want to. The echo of his words seared into your mind, a vow of forever etched into each vowel and consonant.

He was home. He was here. He was real.

"There's no one else," you murmured, leaning your forehead against his—lips brushing against his with each soft admission. "There could never be anyone else."

All that would go unspoken, all neither of you could say.

I love you. I'll love you forever. Whatever this is…it will only end when we're buried six feet under.

"Good," he replied gruffly. "Now give your old man a proper fuckin' welcome."

The smile you wore deepened as his warm hand cupped your cheek. His skin was dry from the leather and a few cuts were scattered here and there, but nothing could resemble this. The blooming heat that spread across your chest like the roots of an ancient tree. He held you with a tenderness that might have shocked you at first—the fear of harming you burning hot in his stomach.

But this was how he always touched you. With a love that couldn't be replaced. A promise soldified in the lines of his palm, fate driven and earthly bound, and yours forevermore.

Finding his lips beneath his hat, you let go of the breath held deep in your lungs. The taste of his cigars spread on your tongue. A familiar morsel of home you gravitated towards. Later in the evening—when you were both lethargic and naked and covered in all sorts of fluids—he'd puff on a brand new cigar. Giving you taste with lazy kisses and smiles traded in the dark of night.

"Missed you Logan," you mumbled, tongue sliding against his with a breathy moan. "I always miss you."

He chuckled, deep enough to vibrate against your chest—his hands sliding down to grip your waist. "You wanna show me how much?"

"You'd like that huh." Smiling into the kiss, you felt his teeth dig into your lips. He sucked it with a groan, fingers digging harshly into the layers of fabric.

"Mhm." His breath was harsh against your cheek, each kiss filled with a need to ravage what belonged to him. To prove he still held space in your heart. "Missed you every fuckin' day sugar."

You laughed, toying with the hair at the base of his skull—curling your fingers around it to tug him back. The moan he rewarded you with made saliva pool in your mouth. His eyes watched you, dazed with want, mouth parted and swollen from your kisses. And you burned the image of him in your mind.

"You wanna show me how much baby?" you breathed, brushing your lips to his with a teasing laugh.

A biting growl ripped from his throat. "Get inside before I take you out here."

"There's an idea."

The harsh slap to your hip dragged a peal of laughter out of your chest. Stumbling back, your hands yanking the hat off his heat and working the jacket down his arms, you kissed him as if you'd never get the chance to again. Wet and spit slicked. Until your teeth clashed together and his tongue was halfway down your throat. Each moan that dripped from his mouth into yours felt like a fucking reward.

A blissful reminder that you weren't alone; he stood before you, frenzied and aching to feel your skin on his.

Logan couldn't figure out how he wound up in this haven. A home, a lover that stole his breath with each look, and forever right on the horizon. Years spent alone only offered the promise of torment, of a life overflowing with an endless amount of pain.

But for some unknown reason, the sun that used to sear his skin now stood before him lighting the pathway home. The brilliance of you blinded him—warmed every cold aspect that resided in the depths of his chest. Yet he'd rather spend the rest of his life in your fierce heat than suffer in the biting cold again.

Oh how lucky he felt just getting the chance to burn.

Desire simmered sharply in the base of your stomach the further you got into the house—his teeth biting down to the column of your throat, fingers toying with the laces of your corest. He devoured you like a sweet thing to be had. A treat he rarely got to partake in tasting. And fuck if he wasn't going to take his time. You clawed at his shirt, pulling it up and off his body with a hoarse shout of glee—nails piercing the flesh of his shoulders as he yanked your leg around his hip.

He practically dragged you to the small bedroom, tearing off the clothing as he went with harsh snarls of want. You'd worry about mending the fabric later in the morning. Or perhaps the day after that. Given how you could feel the heft of his cock through his pants, pressing to your stomach with each small shift of your body.

"On the bed." The command was punctuated with a slap to your ass—a sharp bite against the skin of your collarbone drew a soft moan to the surface.

He tugged the front of your corset down, dropping to the ground with the remainder of your skirts. Baring yourself to Logan with a smile, you felt the emptiness slip down onto the wood of the bedroom floor. Expelling from your body with each panted breath and soft carress. He turned you inside out with the smallest of actions—the barest of touches.

The time he spent alone and wrapped in thoughts of you became all he lived off of. Your memory turned into the reason he stayed alive.

Unlike so much of his life he now held an answer to why he dragged himself home. Why he forced himself to keep going.

"Lemme see her." His hand wrapped around your leg, pulling open your thighs for him to catch a glimpse of what lay between.

You'd been dripping since he arrived. A sticky wet mess that begged for his attention. Logan salivated at the sight, his eyes zeroing in on the way you glistened for him. On any other night he'd sit you on his face in a quick attempt at gaining the close proximity he longed for when he was gone. Tonight served for a different want—a biting need that dug its teeth into his skin.

"She missed me huh," he mumbled, thumb sliding through your wet folds.

You moaned, breathy and restless. "She did baby."

"'M gonna give her what she needs."

"Logan," you sighed, hand outstretched for him to take. "Need you close."

Every nerve lit like a fuse when he gifted you with a full smile. "I will sugar. Lemme just look at ya first huh?"

With a nod you let your legs spread apart, arms draped above your head. The sight of you stole his breath, but you didn't fare any better. His skin scattered with scars you kissed a thousand times over still rendered you incapable of speaking. Hell you weren't even sure you'd taken a breath since he walked through the door.

Though his body was worn and his hair was graying, you couldn't deny he remained the most beautiful man you ever set your eyes on.

"Like what you're lookin' at?"

Your grin was lazy, eyes overflowing with a language Logan once thought he'd never learn yet now could be considered fluent in. Love.

"I really do," you whispered, sharing the secret with him. The words rarely spoken were shouted at the top of your lungs in each loving praise.

He shook them off when you first met him. Claimed they were false words to make yourself feel better about loving an animal who walked and talked like a human. Although, over time he allowed them to sink into his skin, bathe over his broken and weary soul.

They held him together like a ribbon tied through his soul, placed neatly in a bow on his heart.

His hand was swift in undoing his belt, pushing the remainder of his clothes off to join yours heaped on the floor. And you drank in the sight of the man you adored climbing over your body with a hungry gaze. Your heart flipped, grip sliding along his back as you welcomed him in between your legs—the heavy weight of his cock a warm press against your thigh.

"Welcome home." The smile melded into the kiss he placed on your lips, tongue sliding in the curve along your teeth, to taste every bit of you he could reach.

Bucking your hips into his, you dug your nails into his lower back in the hopes that he'd move. He swallowed your whine, spit trailing down your chin when he pulled back to catch his breath. Moving slowly never worked for you—entirely used to the man who broke you with the intent of putting you back together—and right now was no exception. The torment of not having him tore at your heart, put a splinter in the longing simply to crack you in two even further.

"Hold still," he grunted, his hand shoving your hips back onto the bed. "Movin' so fuckin' much I'm gonna have to tie you down."

Your gasp was wet—needy. "Please. Fuck please-"

"Right." His other hand slid up your torso to rest against the base of your throat—thumb running along the smooth skin that covered your racing pulse. "I forgot who you are, sugar. You'd like that huh?"

Teeth tore at your bottom lip, eyes glazed and pupils blown wide the longer he held you there. Anticipation fried your nerves with each second that passed. But Logan wasn't a cruel man. He knew what you ached for—what you'd give up everything for. The closeness of the man you loved; a chance to have his body, heart, and soul.

Gripping himself, he tapped his cock against your clit, sliding through your slick with a stunted moan. A smile bloomed across his lips at your responding moan—fire streaking down your spine, curling along your limbs. He could drive you to madness and yet you'd thank him each time.

You would be grateful for anything he gave you.

"Don't get quiet on me now." His lips trailed along your cheek as he notched himself at your entrance. "Go on and sing for me sweetheart."

He sunk in with a smooth thrust, stretching you with slickened pain and a hoarse moan against the shell of your ear. And you forgot how to breathe. The pinch of pain quickly dampened with the roll of his hips—the head of his cock pressing snugly against your walls. This is what you missed, what your body screamed for.

The potent euphoria that drowned you under its vicious waves.

"So tight," he grunted. "Guess she really did miss me."

"Logan-" Your head tipped back into the pillows, a loud moan breaking the silence that curled over your bodies like a blanket.

"There she is." Pulling back slightly, he slammed back into you, nearly shoving you up the bed. "My pretty little songbird."

Nothing held you back from the sounds he drew out of your mouth. Each one louder than the last. Until the room was filled with a symphony of your combined pleasure, the vulgar echo of skin slapping against skin and your slick dripping down onto the bed, became all you could think about.

He thrived off it. The sight of you whittled down to nothing but a needy mess, begging for a small hint of his love. Maybe that made him an old man far too fucking dirty to be with someone as prescious at you. But he'd let the guilt eat him alive later. He'd worry about stealing your youth out from under you in the afterglow of feeling you cum.

A harsh thrust that struck against the sensitive spongy part of your walls had your knees clamping around his hips—your fingers scratching at his back to get him to slow down. You needed a chance to breathe, to regain some sense. Logan merely smiled, his fingers tightening around your throat to drag your head up. His lips slotting against yours in a messy kiss.

"Where do ya think you're goin'?" he growled, repeating the move with a bitten out groan. "Thought you wanted me to fuck you. Now you're running?"

"T-Too much-"

The angle changed sharply and suddenly he was no longer grinding into you but fucking right on that spot. A sharp sob of his name only added fuel to the quickly forming flame, quickening his movements until you felt your entire body begin to grow taut.

Slick smeared on the inside of your thighs, sticky and warm and loud enough to make you dizzy each time you heard it. He panted into your mouth, using the hold on your throat as leverage to fuck you back onto his cock.

Logan didn't love softly. He couldn't. Brutality was all he was capable of giving you and like the sweetest angel you took it with a smile. You let him use you up until his name was all you could comprehend. The heady scent of his sweat filled your senses, the salty tang of his skin spread along your tongue as you bit into his shoulder—your teeth marring his already marked skin.

Eventually it would turn purple, fading quicker than usual, but he'd wear it with pride. His own trophy after tearing you apart beneath him.

"Gonna cum?" he asked, mouthing at your breast, moaning at the taste of your skin. "I can feel it."

You nodded frantically, body going taut with each slap of his hips on yours. "C-Can I?"

"So fuckin' polite," he groaned, sucking on your nipple before letting it loose with a pop. Spit dripping down to your stomach. "'Course you can sugar."

Tugging at his hair, you felt the tremble in your thighs spread to the rest of your body. His other hand slipped between your bodies, thumbing at your throbbing clit with a soft moan, dragging you right to the edge of a cliff. A sharp grind of his hips broke the dam within you, flooding you with a mind numbing bliss that scorched your skin.

You cried his name until your throat went raw, tears spilling hotly down your cheeks that he licked up with a smile. The fluttering of your walls dragged a hoarse shout from his chest, his teeth clamping down onto any part of he could reach. He followed you instantly, shoving his cock deep enough to hurt as he filled you with enough cum to spill out.

The echo of your breaths resounded off the wooden walls, his hand dipping down to smear his cum along the inside of your thighs. Coating you in his essence; claiming you with his scent that burned the inside of his nose.

"I did you know," you mumbled, kissing the newly formed bruise on his skin. "Miss you."

He sighed, his forehead dropping to yours. "I know sugar. I missed you too."

"Will you stay this time?"

A grin pulled at the corners of his lips, hips rolling into yours to pull another weak moan from those pretty lips he longed to kiss. "As long as ya want me."

The hesitancy clamped around your heart, filling your stomach with anxiety. You wanted to beg him to never leave again, to spend each moment in the safety of this house. But Logan had always been a ramblin man. He'd never stay in one place too long. Even if eventually he found his way back here, back in the safety of your home.

"Forever?" you breathed, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Logan's heart twisted at the sight. "Yeah sugar," he replied, dipping down to drag his lips along yours. "I like the sound of that.”

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovely Mae, I hope you're doing well! Could you please write a drabble with poly!jily where they deal with reader who has a social anxiety and after a busy day or a social event or something she's sick of making small talk and just wants to cuddle up with her partners? No worries if not! Love you mwah <3

Thanks for requesting angel! Hope you're doing well too <3

cw: social anxiety/burnout

poly!Jily x fem!reader ♡ 626 words

You come home feeling raw, worn down to nothing. You want to go into a dark, quiet room and never emerge. But there are two people you need to see first. 

“Angel!” James cheers as you come in and take your shoes off. “How was dinner?” 

He’s sitting with Lily on the couch. She looks happy to see you, but when you wordlessly hold your arms out and walk towards them her expression bends with sympathy. 

“Oh.” James extends his arms for you, folding you into a hug. “Not very good, then?” 

“No,” you mumble into his jumper, “I think it went okay. It was just a lot.” 

Lily makes a soft sound of understanding. They both know you were half dreading your plans tonight, a good friend’s birthday dinner where unfortunately she was the only person you’d know there. You spent the whole time sipping your water to avoid talking and trying not to seem awkward when you couldn’t avoid it. 

Lily’s fingers slip underneath your scarf, cool against your neck as she tugs it off gently. “Was everyone nice?” she asks. 

“Yeah. I’m just afraid I embarrassed myself.” Self-conscious tears prickle at the back of your throat. “I can’t think about it anymore, honestly.” 

“That’s okay,” she says. “I’m sure you didn’t embarrass yourself, lovely. Can I see your hand? You’re going to be sweltering in a minute here.” 

You pass her one hand and then the other, allowing her to pull your gloves off for you. 

“I’m sure everyone there loved you,” says James, rubbing your back while Lily pulls your hat from your head. Her nails scratch lightly at your scalp as she combs her fingers through your roots, smoothing out the frizzies it left behind. “Know how I know?” 

Between both of their touches, you’re starting to relax. “How?” 

“Because,” James whispers like it’s a secret, “Lily loves you. That means everyone must. She’s very picky.” 

“What?” your girlfriend exclaims while you laugh into James’ jumper. “I am not.” 

“It took me years, angel,” James tells you. “Years. But she snatched you up in under a fortnight. Given that, I really don’t see how anyone else could possibly resist you.” 

“I am not that picky.” 

“Oh,” says James, “so what you’re saying is, you’d drop either one of us for someone new in ten seconds flat?” 

You turn your head to peek, and Lily’s narrowed her eyes at him. “Careful,” you murmur. “She might do it to prove a point.” 

She lets out a short, appalled laugh. “You two are so awful!”

“Awful enough to be rid of?” James asks, but when she makes to walk away he leans forward and tugs her back onto the couch with you. 

Lily looks happy to be tugged. She lands in a heap next to James, her glare playful as she meets your eyes. “I hope all these jokes at my expense are making you feel better.” 

You know she’s teasing, but you go soft nonetheless, reaching for her hand and intertwining your fingers. “I’m sorry,” you say, earnest. “Love you.” 

Lily melts, and James gives your middle an affectionate squeeze. “I love you too, sweetheart,” she says. “Do you want to talk about dinner?” 

You let your head lay upon James’ shoulder, looking at her sideways. “Not really. I’m too tired.” 

James starts rubbing your back again, fondness emanating from his touch like a pleasant ache. “Is there anything we can do, then?” 

You hum. “This?” 

Lily’s lips tilt in a bemused sort of smile. “Just this?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh. You melt against James’ front, your fingers in Lily’s grasp. “This is nice.” 

A warm chuckle rumbles through James’ chest. He presses a kiss to your hair. “I think we can manage that.” 

[wileys-russo]

she loves control II f.rolfö (18+)

part of the colourblind universe, warnings for dom/sub dynamics and smut, minors DNI. i still feel a little conflicted about writing smut for real people so this might suddenly disappear, we'll see! she loves control II f.rolfö (18+)

it hadn't taken long once you started properly going out with your now fiance that despite her soft and loving tendencies as a partner, frido not only needed but craved and relished being in control.

in control over you, your behaviour, your body, your routine, your orgasms. and it was even more of a surprise that you didn't mind, in fact you shamelessly lapped it up, finding it shockingly easy to let her take the lead over things.

you learned very quickly just how far she would go to put you back into place if you dared forget it, never to take her kindness for a weakness as in the blink of an eye she could go from ridiculously soft to domineeringly stern so fast it made your head spin and between your legs ache.

as much as it was very much a power shift to have her be so in control, fridolina never made you feel less than or like you had no choice in anything you did, and you knew if she did you were expected to communicate this to her and she'd go above and beyond to rectify it.

because as much as the defender swore up and down that she wouldn't, you knew she'd also do anything and go anywhere you asked at the drop of a hat, both of you just as much head over heels for one another and unable to imagine a life without the other in it.

you really started to get a taste for this side of your swedish lover on only your fifth date. up until then you'd gone out together to do things, having met through mutual friends at an engagement party and hit it off right away.

the first time you went out with one another you hadn't quite realised it was a date, fridolina so effortlessly charming and friendly with everyone you found yourself unsure if it was all in your head that she was being more flirty than friendly with you.

but she was quick to assure it wasn't in your head, rather teasing it seemed you'd occupied a space in hers and she hadn't been able to get you off her mind for the last week and a half since the two of you had initially been introduced.

but tonight was another step forward, frido having asked you over to her apartment for dinner, something seemingly more private and intimate than any of your dates had been before.

it would be the first time the two of you had spent any time together that wasn't in a public setting and it had you nervously excited as you double checked the address and exhaled, knocking on her door.

barely a few seconds passed before you heard a lock turn and the door swung open, a pearly white smile and bright water colour eyes greeting you.

"hallå kärlek." the girl greeted excitedly, tugging you inside and into a hug, the two of you melting into one another as she kicked the door closed behind you.

picking up on the slightly nervous energy radiating off of you frido was quick to press a soft and reassuring kiss to your lips, smiling warmly as the two of you unwrapped from one another and her hand interlocked with yours.

"let me give you the grand tour!"

"-and this is my bedroom." the blonde pushed open the door to the final room, hand still linked with yours as you smiled fondly, running a finger over a series of jade statues on her dresser.

"its very you." you laughed taking it all in. "i hope that is a compliment." the older girl playfully glared as you nodded and promised it was, your hands breaking apart as she took seat on the corner of her bed.

"i love this." you complimented, nodding to a bright orange armchair in the corner near her window and bathed in sunlight, a chunky knit blanket draped over its back. "my little reading nook." frido smiled fondly right as you started to look through her extensive bookshelf.

"did you know i also have the softest mattress in all of sweden?" the footballer wiggled her eyebrows as you caught her eye. "oh really?" you challenged taking a few steps toward her until you were stood between her legs.

"mmm really, here see for yourself." you squealed as she pulled on the belt loops of your pants sending you tumbling forward onto her bed.

"fridolina!" you laughed, kicking her playfully as she laid down right beside you with a cheeky grin. "what? see, softest mattress in sweden." the girl tutted, her hand reaching out to push a loose strand of hair out of your face as you shook your head with a smile.

"you have a staring problem." you teased as she shifted a little closer, propping her head up on her hand to look down at you. "not staring, admiring." frido corrected, revelling in the pink blush which coated your cheeks.

"du är så söt." the taller girl smiled and indeed to her you were very cute, leaning down to press her lips to yours again though a little more passionately than how she'd greeted you at the door earlier.

you pushed at her shoulders, her back now flat to the mattress as you hovered over her, her hand coming to clutch at the back of your neck pressing the two of you even closer together.

her spare hand ghosted your hip where your shirt rode up slightly, fingers ice cold in comparison to your warm skin and you felt a smile tug at her lips as you squirmed ever so slightly.

after what felt like an eternity but wasn't more than ten or so minutes you both pulled away, frido chasing after your mouth with a few more stolen kisses and a teasing tug on your bottom lip with her teeth.

"is asking girls over to make them dinner just a cheap excuse to get them into bed with you rolfö?" you teased with a grin as the blonde playfully huffed and rolled her eyes.

"no it is an expensive one, the softest mattress in sweden is not cheap!"

~

"what happened to 'come over and i'll cook you dinner'?" you teased as the blonde grabbed out a variety of vegetables from the crisper, rinsing them and lining them up neatly on a tea towel draped over the counter in front of you.

"i am cooking, and you are prepping!" the girl bonked you softly on the nose with a carrot as you rolled your eyes in amusement. "snälla, don't roll your eyes at me." the words sounded soft as she paired them with a kiss, but they had your stomach twisting ever so slightly.

an early sign if you'd been paying enough attention at the time.

"please dice these and these finely, and then you can chop these a little rougher." frido explained pointing to different items as you nodded, rewarded with another kiss for your agreement as frido handed you a knife and grabbed her phone from her pocket.

"the song!" you laughed as she clicked play and the familiar tune sounded from the speaker atop her fridge, frido grinning with a nod and placing her phone down on the benchtop.

"may i have this dance...again?" the blonde asked with a cheeky smile, extending her hands toward you as you shook your head but took them none the less.

the song had been one the dj had easily played ten times at the engagement party where the two of you had met, becoming an ongoing joke with the pair of you that night to dance together every time it did, though a little drunker and with a little less balance as time dragged on.

"you are much more stable on your feet when you've had one glass of wine and not a few bottles!" you teased as she drew your body into hers, humming along and swaying the two of you side to side. "hey!" the footballer gasped pinching your hip gently.

"it was not a few bottles." the taller girl pouted as you smiled, craning your neck up to steal a few kisses, frido glancing over your shoulder every now and then checking on the meat which was slowly browning in the pan.

"no no you're right, it was a lot more." you patted her shoulder sympathetically as she gasped again and you let out a squeal as your body was dipped and almost hit the floor before she pulled you back up with a twirl.

"frido don't do that!" you hit her chest lightly, the smirk not dropping from her cherry red lips at all. "do what? this?" you squealed again as she dipped you once more even lower this time, bending down to hover her mouth above yours.

"you know if i did not pursue football i could have been a ballroom dancer." frido sighed dramatically with a small shrug, pulling you back up before you could kiss her, twirling you around and gently pushing you back toward the counter where the vegetable prep was waiting.

"really?" you questioned both in amusement and disbelief, taking your seat again, quirking an eyebrow at her as she nodded enthusiastically. "really. watch!" she grabbed her phone and changed songs, quickly tossing the meat about in the pan and flicking it down to a low heat.

"it is all about the counting and the steps, the key is to control your movements and have patience with the timing." frido explained, moving into position in the middle of her kitchen. "for example, the waltz-" she gestured for you to start cutting as you smiled but did so, picking up the knife.

"you go forward on your left foot, then to the side with your right foot but so it stays in line with the left, then you move your left to meet your right. and then you step backwards with your right foot, then to the side with your left foot but again always in line, then move the right to meet the left and repeat!" the defender demonstrated as she spoke and you had to admit she did not miss a single step.

"tack så mycket!" the blonde bowed and gestured her hands about dramatically as you clapped and whistled your approval, frido sending you a wink before quickly turning back to the meat.

satisfied with how it was browning she moved it aside to a bowl and tossed in an onion she'd already diced to caramelise. then for a moment she glanced behind her, eyebrows furrowing slightly at your own dicing technique.

"nej." you looked up at her voice, pausing your movements with a confused frown. "nej nej nej nej." the taller girl tutted with a shake of her head, quickly rounding the counter and moving in behind you.

her arms snuck around your torso, taller more muscular body pressing into the back of yours and caging you against the cold marble countertop. her slender fingers decorated with a few chunky rings tapped at the top of your hand and you dropped the knife on instinct, tensing a little as her nose brushed against the crook of your neck.

"not like that." frido tutted softly, grabbing the knife and your hand having you hold it as her own hands sat atop yours. "more like this. slower, finer, neater." frido murmured, breath warm against your ear as her hands moved yours much like a puppeteer, doing the movements for you and guiding them as if they were her own.

"understand?" the blonde asked quietly stilling your hands in hers and you nodded. "use your words, please." her tone just slightly more firm you again felt a strange feeling in your stomach. "i understand." you confirmed, feeling her smile into your shoulder.

"good, show me." she encouraged, a kiss pressed to the base of your neck as her hands moved instead to settle on your hips, pushing them ever so slowly into the counter as more of her body weight bore into you from behind.

"is this okay?" she asked before you could move, clearly referring to your current position as you nodded, frido opening her mouth before you realised your error and quickly corrected it.

"yes, it's nice." you confirmed verbally, earning you a proud smile and another kiss to your cheek. "good, now show me." she repeated, chin hooking over your shoulder as you resisted temptation to melt entirely into the warmth of her hold.

"very good, very very good." the defender praised at how quickly you picked up the change, dicing exactly as she'd shown you. once again at the praise this time your stomach flipped and something clicked, you wanted to please her, wanted her to be happy with you.

"you are a quick learner and a good listener kärlek." frido complimented, your head turning and chin tilting upward as reading your mind fridos own ducked and her lips rewarded you with a few proper kisses this time.

satisfied with your technique now it matched hers she left you to it, quickly moving back toward the stove top as you tried to pretend you didn't miss the way it felt having her pressed against you.

normal conversation flowed between you as sure enough you prepped and she cooked, rewarded for each task completed with a soft thank you, gentle praise and a kiss from the blonde, and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't affecting you just a little.

"please let me help!" you offered yet again, dinner done and your date about to wash everything up, frido shaking her head. "no, you just sit there and look pretty." the girl winked, another blush coating your cheeks at her words.

"you are quite the charmer." you smiled, resting your chin on your hand and trying not to focus on the way her arms rippled as she scrubbed, her hoodie sleeves pulled up to her elbows.

"well when the soft mattress trick does not work i need to use the rest of my tool belt to get pretty girls in bed." frido teased as you gasped softly and shook your head.

"so am i just one of your girls then?" you tutted playfully as she winked, wiping her hands on a tea towel as the water drained from the sink and she appeared now in front of you.

your breath caught a little in your throat as her hands cupped your face, bright eyes boring down into you with a smile so sweet it could rot a tooth, her thumbs tenderly tracing your jaw.

"no, you are one very special girl."

your face heating up your eyes moved to avoid hers on instinct, her pointer finger tapping your cheek with a small hum to capture your attention again.

"eyes on me when i speak to you." her tone sharpened slightly, eyebrows creased ever so slightly as her eyes searched yours for any sign of discomfort at the fact but to her pleasure she found none.

"they are so lovely, you should not hide them." her voice softened again, lips curling into a smile as yours did the same. "you're one to talk, your eyes are like a water colour painting." you quipped back, a chuckle leaving her mouth.

"well well well, whose the charmer now?"

from that day forward the two of you continued to see one another until eventually dates bled into seeing her near daily and you both realised this was becoming something more serious.

not a doubt in her mind that you really were a special girl frido was quick to ask you to be hers, officially, and without a pause at all you said yes.

as more time passed the blondes need for control became less and less subtle, as did your blatantly obvious response to it, one which pleased your girlfriend very very greatly.

as much as fridolina might have needed control, you needed her to take it just as much and gave it over more than willingly. you found the way she doted on you and made sure to correct any small behaviour or habit to her liking only made you fall for her more.

but again despite the way she could often switch so easily between soft and stern, you never ever felt mistreated or manipulated. she wanted you to do as she asked and you wanted to be told what was required of you.

“baby its big, bigger than what i’ve taken before.” you chewed your bottom lip nervously, sizing it up where it sat in the tall blondes hand. 

“I know, but you can do it. I know you can.” your girlfriend encouraged with a soft coo, nodding and caressing your cheek with her spare hand, using her thumb to tug your lip out from between your teeth with a small pop. 

“It’s not going to be easy, i’m going to choke on it.” you sighed with a small shake of your head. 

“no you will not kärlek, you just drink some water first and breathe in and out through your nose as you take it, like we practised.” the blonde reminded with another nod of encouragement. “okay.” you gave in, smile curling into frido’s features.

“give it to me.” you gave your own nod, looking more determined than you actually felt. “good, very good.” the blonde praised and you melted, readying yourself with a deep inhale.

then doing as she suggested you took a large mouthful of water, swallowing and extending your palm as your girlfriend placed the huge multivitamin into it, kissing your cheek as you popped the pill into your mouth and with a small struggle managed to get it down.

“see? easy. so dramatic for nothing!” frido teased, stealing a kiss and swallowing the crude remark back which sat on the tip of your tongue. “your health is important älska, you have to look after your body and your mind.” she smiled, lightly tapping your forehead with her pointer finger making you smile.

never much of a possessive woman, knowing that just as much as she was obsessed with you, you were just as much enamoured with her, it didn't stop your blonde lover from asserting herself just a little bit more when the two of you were out with friends.

"ready?" your girlfriend asked with a smile, car engine dying off as she twisted the key and you nodded. "you look beautiful raring." the blonde sighed, eyes raking over the outfit and accessories she'd carefully and lovingly picked by hand for you to wear.

"and you look gorgeous." you complimented back, fixing a slight smudge of her lipstick where you'd kissed her as the two of you got ready earlier. "i only look so good because i have you on my arm." the taller girl flirted with a wink as you rolled your eyes and pushed her lightly.

"hej. don't roll your eyes at me baby." a large hand grabbed your jaw, the slight pressure of how it squeezed a stark contrast to the way her finger ever so gently traced beneath your bottom lip.

"jag ber om ursäkt." you apologised sincerely, a happy smile in her features at how quickly you did so. "good girl." the defender breathed out, smile turning to a smirk at the slight pink tint in your cheeks.

that was another newer discovery, the way that two seemingly simple words could have you just as flustered as anything, your girlfriend figuring out early on that much as she adored you doing what she asked, you flourished in the praise she gave you after doing so.

“are you nervous?” frido picked up on the slight waver in your normally confident demeanour right away, eyes raking over you with concern. “a little, i want to make a good impression on your friends älskling.” you admitted, not having met this particular group just yet but they were old friends your girlfriend had gone to school with and you knew they meant a lot to her.

“min kärlek, they will love you, in fact they would be crazy not to. i am very very happy with you, they will see that because i make no move to hide it, this is the happiest i have been in a long time.” the taller girl promised, softly and sincerely as butterflies fluttered around your stomach.

“tack så mycket.” you thanked her, leaning over the dash to kiss her but her hand stopped you, your breath hitching as it wrapped gently around your neck, not applying any pressure but effectively stopping you in your tracks.

“later. i do not want you to smudge your lipstick that colour is just so perfect on you, my pretty girl.” the blonde complimented, grinning at the blush which followed. “matches these eh?” she teased, poking your cheek with her finger and letting go of your neck as you backed up.

you exhaled and took a second to collect your thoughts as your girlfriend stepped out of the car, quickly appearing at your door and pulling it open, extending a hand to help you out.

you murmured a soft thanks, the door closing and car locked as the pair of you headed across the parking lot toward the restaurant you were headed to meet with some of the blonde’s friends.

your girlfriends large hand sat flush against the small of your back, guiding you across the asphalt and toward the sound of glasses clinking and laughter. but the closer you got the more frido’s hand started to creep higher and higher, and by the time you were greeted by the hostess it sat against the back of your neck.

the small gesture was so common to you by now though you hardly noticed, in fact it felt a comfort of some sorts knowing she was right there. 

frido was also comforted by the fact that with a grip on the back of your neck it was much easier to control your movements through the crowded restaurant, keeping you locked besides her as the pair of you were lead over to the table already filled with her friends.

you smiled warmly as your girlfriend introduced you to them one by one, her hand again sliding down to the small of your back, guiding you to sit down right beside her once introductions were done.

it then moved to sit on your thigh just above your knee, the blonde never without a hand on you practically at all times, especially when out around others. though it wasn’t one that held an intention of possession, your girlfriend knew you were hers and she was yours and you didn’t have an eye that would ever wander, but it was more so to remind constantly that she was there.

“what looks good?” frido murmured as a menu was slipped in front of you, a gentle squeeze of her hand against your knee capturing your attention, not that it had slipped away for a second. “what looks good to you?” you repeated the question back almost right away.

“i asked you käraste, i expect an answer please.” your girlfriend murmured tone just a touch firmer as you nodded, her thumb tracing circles against your skin absentmindedly. you scanned the menu and offered up a few options, deciding to just split them between you.

as the waiter approached and began to take everyone’s order eventually his eyes turned to you, a smile and a raised eyebrow indicating it was your turn. “she will have the garlic prawn hot pot to start, the beef bourguignon for main and a glass of pinot blanc with ice.”your girlfriend ordered for you with a charming smile before ordering her own meal, hand still firmly planted on your leg.

you were pulled into conversation quickly once everyone had ordered but you let your girlfriend take the lead, knowing when to answer or chime in as frido would gently squeeze your leg in a silent permission.

when your wine came the blonde took it from the waiters hand before giving it to you, the same actions repeated with your meals. as it grew later in the evening her hand had travelled from your leg to again gently caress the back of your neck. sender fingers toying with the baby hairs curled there, arm draped over your shoulder and your chair scooted closer so your body was pressed against hers.

every little movement was calculated. the hands on your thigh, ordering for you, leading the conversation, all the ever so subtle signs of just how much she loved control, and you lapped every bit up happily.

there were of course other much less subtle ways that fridolina asserted her dominance, and by far your favourite was of course when the two of you were hidden away in the privacy of her bedroom.

from the very first time you shared your bodies with one another though the footballer made sure you were okay with everything, communication was just as important to her as control and you knew it was her expectation you uphold that.

you were back on the softest mattress in sweden once again, as the girl loved to remind you mainly so you’d shut her up with a kiss.

but this time the kisses were a little different, they held a slight air of longing and need, the air seemed to be filled with a new and exciting tension, something both of you had picked up on. 

so it was not to your girlfriends surprise when you moved to now be on top of her, your hands cupping her face and deepening the kiss further, but as always frido was the one in control as her hand sat on the back of your head so you couldn’t pull away.

her tongue licked filthily into your mouth and you shifted, the tiniest of noises made as frido’s lips curled into a slightly smug smile and her hand moved, both of them tapping your thighs before gently pushing at your shoulders.

“are you okay?” you questioned with a slight frown of concern, chest heaving just a little as you caught your breath. “more than okay kärlek, but i want to check something with you.” you shuffled back slightly as the blonde sat up, you still perched on her lap as you nodded for her to continue.

“i need you to tell me if you want to take things further than just kissing, i need your consent.” the footballer requested softly, brushing a loose piece of hair behind your ear as you melted. “i’ve been ready for awhile now, i promise you have my full consent.” you murmured, pecking her lips a few times in between words.

“good. now, i need you to promise me if there is anything you do not like or you change your mind you will tell me right away.” her tone shifted slightly as you nodded. “no. use your words, and look at me when you speak to me.” your breath hitched as her hand gripped your jaw, turning your head to face her again as your eyes strayed for a moment and hers bore into you expectantly.

“i promise.” you spoke sure of yourself, frido smiling clearly pleased and letting go of your jaw. you used this slight moment of freedom to grab the hem of your top, pulling it off of you and tossing it over your shoulder, grinning at the way the defenders eyes widened in surprise.

“i need you.” you whispered, thumb tracing her jawline as something shifted in the way she gazed at you. you let out a squeal as within seconds you were pinned beneath her, hands pressed either side of your head as her body straddled your hips pressing them down into the mattress.

“oh no no baby you might want me, but only i know what you need.” frido’s lips ghosted yours, head pulling back as you tried to capture them with your own, cherry red and painted into a very smug smile.

“say it.” the blonde encouraged, eyes twinkling as your heart raced beneath her. “say it. you should know that i do not like to repeat myself älskade.” your girlfriend warned, your head spinning at the way she could so easily flitter between soft and stern.

“only you know what i need.”

“duktig flicka.” frido praised, letting go of your hands as one of hers settled on your cheek and the other trailed a single finger slowly down your chest as you shivered slightly. “are you cold?” the girl teased as your nipples visibly hardened. 

though your reply was swallowed by her lips hungrily devouring yours again, your back arching slightly off the mattress as two fingers teasily ghosted your inner thighs, gone as quickly as they were there as you moaned quietly and the blonde sucked harshly on your bottom lip.

“frido.” you breathed out as her lips moved to your neck, the taller girl knowing every little spot to pay close attention to as your eyes fluttered close. “mmm? what do you want sötnos? use your words.” she teased, stealing them as her teeth sank into your neck and your hips bucked against her.

“you. i want you.”

“me? but baby you have me, i’m right here no?” she tutted, your head pushing back into the pillow as a large hand cupped your left breast and squeezed, her fingers toying with the hardened peak of your nipple.

growing tired of trying to find the right words to get what you want you decided actions might speak a little louder. so with your hands no longer pinned to the bed you grabbed one of hers which sat on your cheek, slipping the slender digits into your mouth and smiling at the way her face changed.

“behövande flicka.” frido breathed out, eyes lit with a new spark as you sucked on her fingers, gagging slightly as she began to rock them into your mouth at a pace set of her own accord, knocking your hand away where it held hers.

once more your hips bucked as her other hand came to settle on your neck, not applying any pressure but even the feel of her callous palm against your throat made your head spin. as her fingers left your mouth it wasn’t without a trail of spit, your cheeks flushing red as frido wiped it off against your naked chest.

You breathed out a sigh of contement as finally her attention seemed to start to go where you both knew you needed her, lips trailing soft kisses down your chest as her body slipped off of you slightly and you exhaled as her hand again ghosted your underwear.

“so wet and i’ve barely touched you.”

the teasing tone in her voice just made you want her more, eyes slipped closed as her fingers toyed with the waistband of your underwear, snapping it against your hips. 

“look at me.” they snapped open at her voice, her hand moved to grip your jaw as you felt her hand slip into your underwear and whined slightly. “you will look at me while i fuck you kärlek, and you will not look away until i tell you to or i stop.” the blonde warned sternly and you nodded.

“words.” she ordered, squeezing your jaw and your body bucked as a singular finger slipped inside you. “yes.” you nodded, a tap to your cheek reminding you of her previous demand as your eyes opened and locked with hers.

you felt your face burn bright red as you held eye contact and a second finger entered you, her pace picking up as your hands fisted the bedsheets, her lips curled into an obnoxiously smug smirk. 

“such a pretty girl, all red and blushing just for me.” the blonde cooed, and there was something about the sudden switch in tone for you to whine. “no no, you will watch kärlek or you will not come.” she warned firmly as your eyes fluttered shut and her fingers pistoned in and out, setting a rhythm which had you squirming beneath her in need.

“are you close baby?” she pouted mockingly feeling your walls tighten and something about it had you pushed even further to the edge, her bodyweight baring down onto you pinning your bucking hips to the mattress. “yes!” you moaned out as your voice cracked, barely able to get the word out but knowing thats what she wanted.

“good girl. now ask me if you can come, and if you ask me nicely enough älskling then maybe i’ll allow it.”

[chuvstvovanje]

Headcannon that postcannon Charles doesnt like leaving Edwin alone for long streches of time.

You know the way he did in the beggining of the show, leaving Edwin alone so that Charles could be with Crystal or just giving Edwin space to be with other people(Monty or Niko). I think post-Hell Charles Rowland would feel uneasy about not having Edwin in his line of sight while at the same time not wanting to make a big deal out of it.

Like how in the last episode Edwin is alone and Charles leaves others to pack so he could check up on Edwin, that sort of thing. Or how he was hessitent to follow Crystals plan at first becouse he has to rescue(see) Edwin ( to me it also looks like Charles was so busy rushing to Edwin he didnt noitice Nikos body but that might just be me)

Anyways i think it would be a fun direction to take Charles's characther in. Considering in s1 he is already weary of Edwin spending time with the Cat King, youd get that whole jealousy thing but doubled and mixed in with his feeling of inadequacy as the brawn. But also s1 establishes Charles as being at least partially insecure about their bond: having to correct Edwin whenever Edwin says how Charles would move on quickly and constanty seeking reassurment from edwin about their friendship (ep 1 when he asks what would happen if death came, ep 4 with his fight with the night nurse, seeing Brad and Hunter the best friends as him and Edwin)

And then you also have the reversal of how Edwin was jealous of Charles spending lots of times with Crystal and now Charles is protesting every second Edwin isnt with him. And ofcourse Charles does it from a place of fear and love but Edwin would maybe interpret it the wrong way, who knows?

And, from what the writers have told us, Edwin in s2 spent at least some amount of time flirting with other men (hopefully without Charles lurking in the background) and from what we know from that one cameo Jayden and George did, there was a lot of tension between the boys...

Now im not a writer i didnt write the s2 script or anything, im not saying this is what would have happened in s2 but.... i think the tension might have come from that. From Charles seeing Hell as a traumatic expirience and his PTSD manifesting as his insistence on Edwin not leaving his side, Charles's insecurities and his fear of losing Edwin being at an all time high. While Edwin, who has learnd how to forget Hell, is acting as if nothing happened at all, exploring his sexuality and making new friends in the process.

It would make Charles confront all of the skeletons he's been hiding in the closet but also it would ask the simple question of why is Charles so insecure in their friendship? Why is he constantly mentioning them being best mates? Why does he need it so much? Why is he constantly searching from reassurences that they are best friends?

And for more angst, from Edwins point of view he is doing everything Charles wanted him to do in s1. Hes accepting and letting the dead boy detectives workplace to grow and change, he is being more open and friendlier, he is encouraging Charles friendship/relationship with Crystal and he is no longer playing trauma Olympics at the drop of a hat. So why is Charles so mad? Hes working through his shame and his supiriority complex, hes growing as a person and Charles is still stuck at the staircase.