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whatsverstappeningnow · 19 days ago

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how f1 drivers react

to girlfriend!reader wearing a necklace with their race number on it (some slightly suggestive lines included) (requested)

drivers mentioned: MV33, LN4, OP81, AA23, CS55, CL16, LH44, GR63

max verstappen

The sun shines in through the kitchen window in golden strings of light. It's a quiet day at home, with no plans till the afternoon and no need to hurry there. Still, you've already dressed yourself in a new summer dress you've bought. The material flows down over your hips, swishing as you turn in the mirror and then as you walk from your bedroom to the living room to show Max your chosen outfit. But you dress isn't the only new item you're wearing.

You'd bought it secretly. A suprise. One you hoped he'd love.

Max spots the necklace right away, his gaze flicking from your eyes, to the dress and then landing on it with a sudden, knowing smirk curling at his mouth. From where's he's sat on the couch, he leans in just a little, elbows on his knees and head resting on his upturned hand. His voice low and teasing as he speaks.

“Well, well, look at you,” he says, voice thick with amusement and something a bit more dangerous.

"You like my new dress?" You ask, giving him a quick spin, hands in the air for a moment and then settling on your waist. His gaze lingers over you with careful precision.

"Not the only new thing you've got on," he muses, tilting his head to the side slightly, "Where'd you get that?"

"Ordered it," you say simply, as if it were nothing at all, as you readjust the necklace chain.

“Careful, schat. Trying to make sure no one forgets who you belong to, huh?”

He stands, slowly, holding your gaze. He stalks towards you, one hand reaching out to hold your waist, the other fingering the chain of the necklace, his eyes lingering on the number and then dragging up to meet your gaze.

You catch the challenge in his eyes and flash him a grin in return. “Maybe I just like the idea of having you close, all the time.”

The teasing in his expression softens in an instant. His fingers gently brush the pendant as he looks at you, eyes warm and serious now.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice softer, “I like the sound of that.”

He pulls you into a quick kiss, no dramatics, just the softnes of quiet love, then he lets his forehead rest against yours.

“You don't know what you do to me,” he whispers into the small space between the two of you, his eyes resting closed like he's still processing the necklace and the dress. It's barely any distsnce at all, yet it feels like a mile. You can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips.

"I think I've got some idea." You smile. He does too.

lando norris

He notices it while you’re lying beside each other on the couch, limbs tangled up together in a familar way, and watching some random movie you're only half paying attention to. It's background noise more than anything. You couldn't care less though, just being with Lando was enough to make you relax.

It's about halfway through the movie, with some museum scene plays across the screen, when he notices the new shiny necklace hanging around your neck.

“Wait—hang on. Is that… is that my number?” His voice, though scratchy and slow from tiredness, goes up slightly as he speaks. The little queaks of excitement in his words make you smile.

You can only nod, biting back a smile, desperate to see his reaction. You'd bought the necklace on a whim a few nights ago and were lucy it had arrived while Lando wasn't home. The fun was the suprise of it, after all.

He stretches forward for the remote, sat on the coffee table infront of you two, and pauses the movie dramatically.

“You love me.”

You blink, a small laugh bubbling in your chest at his sudden and sombre declaration.

“I mean, yeah, obviously—”

“No, no. This is serious,” he says, grinning from ear to ear like an madman, all teeth and dimples. “You got a number four on your chest. That’s, like, actual dedication.”

You raise a brow, amused. “It’s just a necklace.”

“Just a—?” He gasps, scandalised, hand to his chest and all, like you’ve personally offended him. “That’s my number. You realise what you’ve done, right? You’re basically branded now.”

“Branded?”

He nods solemnly, though his eyes are still sparkling with excitement. “Yup. You wear that out and people are gonna know. Like, know know. I won’t even have to introduce you anymore. They’ll see it and go, ‘Ah, that’s Lando’s girl.’”

You can't help but laugh now, full bellied and joyful, and he grins wider as he hears it, if that’s even possible.

He tackles you into the cushions, kissing your neck with soft pecks. “Next step: matching tattoos. Just saying.”

"Lando!" you cry out with a huff of amusement, knowing he's entirely joking.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding..." His quiet for a moment, then looks up at you again with a cheeky grin. "Unless..."

"Lando, no. If you want everyone to know you’re mine, I have a few other ways in mind..." Your hand reaches out to his collarbone, then traces soft lines up to his neck and jawline. Your touch is hot and familiar, slow and intentional. You can see him swallow hard as you do it.

"Oh, yeah? Maybe you could show me them. Just to make sure we're on the same page, love."

oscar piastri

Coffee dates with Oscar are a constant in your life. There's a small shop around the corner from his place that you love to visit on quiet, sunny days. When the sun rose that morning, seemingly shinning brighter than normal, and with a particually joyful sparkle, you knew it was a coffee date day.

It was the perfect time to show Oscar your new piece of jewellery.

He notices the necklace while you’re talking, halfway through a sip of his coffee, eyes slipping from your gaze to the number hanging around you neck. The unexpected, but not undesired, sight causes him to do a double take.

“Wait…” he leans in, interupting your sentence, though you don't mind. You only smile softly as he squints slightly, slowly taking in the sight infront of him, then blinks up at you with slight disbelief. “Is that... 81. My number?”

You nod just once, a little shy, and pick up the charm that dangle from the end of the chain, holding it closer for him to see. He leans in to meet you halfway. But before you can say anything else, a deep blush spreads across his face. He cheeks go an adorable shade of pink as you watch the cogs turn in his brain.

His mouth opens like he has a joke ready, but nothing comes out except a breathy little laugh.

“That’s… kinda cute,” he mutters, eyes still fixed on it like he’s really trying to quickly process all the implications of you going outside wearing his number so casually. “But, like, uh, cool cute. Really cool.” He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

When you smile and say it’s because you like having him close all the time, he looks down, shaking his head with a small, dimply smile. The blush on his cheeks remains, though he looks less caught off guard than before.

“You’re gonna make me soft,” he murmurs, his hands reaching out to hold yours across the table. Then under his breath, he adds, “Will you wear it to the race next week? Please. Even just under your jumper.”

You agree, of course. You hadn't bought the necklace to hide it away, and you tell him as much. Your words just make him smile and pull you hand closer towards him to plant a gentle kiss to your knuckles. Then it's your turn to blush, squeezing his hand with a smile.

And when you do wear it the next week, proudly walking into the paddock hand in had with Oscar, his smile is brighter than any coffee date day sun has ever been.

carlos sainz

Carlos, the gentleman that he is, loved to plan spontaneous dates. One more occasions than one, what you thought was going to be a quiet night at home had turned into the romantic night out. Candles on resturant tables, hands holding your and taking out the chair for you, the whole deal. Which was how you once again found yourself picking out a fancy outfit, wit no idea which resterant you were going to.

It was sweet of him, though you did wish you had a little more to go on than just wear something pretty, not so hard you you, yes? to go off of while trying to pick your outfit. Settling on an old favourite outfit, you slipped into it with ease, only calling Carlos in when you realised you needed help zipping up the back. Upon hearing his name, he pattered into the room obediently, already dressed in his dress shirt and pants, look perfectly put together.

"Gorgeous, cariño," he whispered into your ear after doing as you asked, "Anything else you need, my love?"

With a barely concelled smirk, you went over to your jewellery box and pulled out your new necklace.

"Help me put this on?" you asked innocently, walking over to him, placing it delicately in his hand and turning around, patiently awaiting his reaction.

“¿Qué es esto?” he asks, his voice light and breathy.

You smile, though it's more of a smirk than anything, but don't turn around. “A little something I got, it's new.”

“Number fifty five?” he says, fingertips ghosting along the back of your neck as he put it on for you, then settling his touch onto your hips to admire your outfit in the mirrors reflection, his head resting on your shoulder. “Dios mío, I’ve turned you into a fangirl, hm?”

“I've always been a fan.”

His brows lift, amused and smug, head tilted slightly to the side. “Of me? Or just the accent?

“Mostly the arms,” you quip, resting your hands ontop of his.

He laughs, pulling you closer and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “That’s permanent, right? Not just for today? Because I kind of love seeing my number right there.”

“So everyone will know I'm yours?” you joke, voice light.

He kisses your temple, voice low. “Sí. I like it that way. I'm yours. And you're mine.”

alex albon

He’s on his way out the door, backpack on and car keys in hand, when he finally notices it hanging from your neck.

You had it on all day and waited patiently at breakfast, then on your walk together, then through lunch, and then while he was getting ready to leave your apartment. for him to notice, but he simply hadn’t. The whole day. That was, until now.

You we're glad he finally had, you would have hated to have spoiled the fun and justed showed it to him yourself after going through all the trouble of buying it secretly and hiding in in the back of your pjamama drawer.

Oh, well. At least he had spotted it before leaving, now the fun could begin.

His mouth drops open into the perfect little ‘o’ shape as he stares at the little shinny 23 hanging down from around your neck. His eyes are glued to the necklace, one outstretched finger pointing at it.

“Wait, what is that?”

You smile, and wave your hands around it with fluttering fingers. “A new necklace. Nice, right?”

He squints, then closes the front door softly and steps closer to you. “Is that my number?”

“Don’t let it get to your head.” You smirk, and tilt your head slightly to the side, trying to hold in your laugh at the stunned, suprised look on his face.

He dramatically clutches his chest, standing right in front of you now. “Too late. You’ve turned me into a puddle. I've melted.”

Then he leans in, eyes glowing with mischief as his hands reach out to grab your upper arms. “Just promise me one thing. Please?”

His voice drips with glee.

“What?”

“If someone, some guy, ever comes up to you in public... ask for your number or something, you better point to that necklace, and then say my name. Clearly. Loudly. Alex. Alex Albon. 23. Got it? Yeah?”

You roll your eyes, laughing at his bright smile. “You’re unbelievable."

“Unbelievably lovable, yes. Hence you having my number arounf your neck.”

You could only laugh harder at his smug expression and mock dramatic tone. After pressing a soft kiss to his lips, you reply, "You're so stupid. Truly.”

"Stupidly in love with you? Definitely."

"You're lucky I love you too."

"Luckiest guy in the world, I know."

charles leclerc

You'd been wearing it for a few days already, under jumpers and high necked shirts. it felt like a little secret, a constant reminder that Charles was with you even when we wasn't actually next to you. You weren't exactly keeping it a secret, per say, but you hadn't yet put it on display.

He notices it at the most random time, while you’re brushing your teeth, hair up, wearing one of his old shirts. The collor of the shirt, well-worn and stretch, dipped over your collarbone and revealling the shiny little necklace you were wearing under neither..

He squints, rubbing his eye from tiredness, or maybe slight disbelief. “Sixteen?”

You nod around a mouthful of toothpaste, toothbrush sticking out one side of your mouth, the edge of your lips curling up into a small smirk.

“Mon dieu,” he mutters, half teasing, half stunned, coming to stand behind you and wrapping his arms around possessively around your waist. He rests his weight onto you, curling into your warmth. “You’re more sentimental than me.”

You spit, rinse, and smile, Charles never moving from his place behind you. It's a purely domestic scene, a moment that reminds you how comfortbale you exist in eachother's orbit. “I wanted something cute to remind me of you. Something to keep with me when your away.”

He watches you through the mirror, soft eyes watching you move with a tired ease, hands pressing comforting circles into your hips. A constant warm presence. “You should have told me, I would loved to buy it for you. You deserve many pretty things, chérie.”

You lean back into him, letting his body mold to yours. You fit perfectly into eachothers embrace.

“I didn’t need you to buy it,” you murmur, reaching down to toy with the charm. “It felt more special this way. Like it was mine to choose.”

He hums into the crook of your neck, nose brushing softly against your skin. “Still,” he says, voice low and a little hoarse from sleep, “I would’ve added matching earrings. A whole Charles Leclerc collection.”

You snort, turning around to look him in the eyes, hands reaching out to hold his face between your palms. “I don’t need anything else. Just you.”

His expression shifts, tender and quietly overcome. He presses a slow kiss to your lips, then you forehead, and pulls you against him. “You have me. Even when I’m not here. Especially then.”

There’s a pause. A quiet that isn’t awkward or heavy, just full of feeling. He looks down at the necklace again, then back at you with a soft smile, one you only ever see when he's looking at you.

Charles sighs, breath warm and ticklish against your skin. “Sixteen looks good on you,” he says eventually. And those simple words hold within them a hundred different meanings you can't wait to dream about all night.

"I'll have to wear it more often, then," you say simply, and the words make him smile even wider.

lewis hamilton

You and Lewis had gotten to the truly domestic era of your relationship. You had keys to each other’s apartments, and you knew you could let yourselves into each other's spaces. So when Lewis texted you, saying he had work to do at home, but you were welcome to come and sit with him while he did it, exist in his orbit for the afternoon, you were soon letting yourself in his front door. Any chance to spend time with Lewis was an opportunity you took, escpeccialy given his busy schedule.

Lewis notices it the second you walk in, even if you don’t realise he’s looking. He’s lounging on the sofa with his laptop resting on his lap, reading something, probably reviewing data notes or one of the endless supply of emails he recieved, but the moment his eyes flick up and land on your necklace, all his focus slips away from him.

He closes the laptop slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, subtle and calm. The kind of smile that makes your chest ache with warmth and familiarity. Lewis' smiles had a way of making you feel whole.

“That’s for me?” he asks gently, nodding toward your necklace. His voice is quiet, curious. His gaze lingers on the number, just visible beneath the open collar of your shirt.

You glance down, fingers brushing over it self-consciously. “I thought it suited me,” you say, only half teasing.

He stands, putting the laptop on the coffee table infront of him, and crosses the room with unhurried ease.

One hand comes up to cradle the charm between his fingers, his thumb gliding over the number as though memorising it by touch.

“It suits you better than me,” he murmurs, a hint of joking in his tone, eyes lifting to yours. "I’m flattered.”

"Flattered?" you said, giggling slightly at his word choice.

"Well, yeah. A pretty girl is wearing my number, how else should I feel?" He lets the necklace fall back against your skin, then adds with a little smirk, “Might need to get something with your initials now. Y’know, to keep things balanced.”

You smirk, letting your hand rest on his chest. “What, like a bracelet? Property of...”

“Necklace. Tattoo. Your name embroidered on my socks... I’m not picky.” He shrugs and sighs dramatically, clearly enthralled by his own joke.

You lean into his embrace, shaking your head as he pulls you into a sweet kiss, his arms wrapping around you with familiar ease and comfort.

“You’re such a sap,” you murmured into his hoodie, resting your head on his chest as you speak.

“And you’re mine,” he said, grinning down at you, hand lingering on your lower back. “So I think we’re even.”

george russell

It’s a lazy Sunday morning spent at your usual breakfast spot. Just off a main road, the quiet atmosphere was the perfect place to unwind and relax on a slow morning. You were dressed casually, sunglasses pushed up on your head for look more than necessity, and your new favorite necklace catching the light and resting around your neck. The necklace, more than anything, you hoped he’d notice.

You slide into the booth across from him, pressing a kiss to his cheek first before sitting down, dropping your bag and stretching your arms out in front of you with a sleepy smile. You hadn't arrived together, George having to go to an extra early meeting and you prefering to sleep in on such a gorgeous morning. But it made it the perfect time to show off the new addition to your jewellery collection.

George doesn’t say anything at first, but you watch as his eyes widen slightly as he spots it. Instead of immediately reacting, he takes a slow moment to sip his coffee, watching you with that knowing look that makes your stomach flip.

Then, with a teasing smirk tugging at his lips, he tilts his head and says, “You’re really trying to make this obvious, huh?”

You glance across at him, shrugging and feigning confusion. “I don't know what you mean.”

He gestures toward your necklace with his half-finished coffee. “The whole ‘I’m madly in love with a certain F1 driver’ energy you’ve got going on with that necklace.”

You laugh, resting your chin on your upturned hand. “Maybe I just thought it looked cute. Favourite number. Totally nothing to do with you, sorry.”

“Mm,” he hums, matching your posture with his head on his own hand and leaning towards you slightly with a growing grin. “Or maybe you just wanted the world to know you’re taken.”

“Think it's working?”

“Oh, definitely,” he says, eyes gleaming and a light edge colouring his words. “But now I’m going to have to step up my game. Watch out. I might start wearing your initials. Embroidered. Everywhere. Just to make sure everyone knows I'm definitely off the market.”

You snort at his dramatics, but match his teasing tone. “George Russell, turning up to the paddock with my name monogrammed onto his fireproofs? Oh, the scandal!”

He grins, and laughs as he leans back in his chair. “You think I won’t?”

You roll your eyes and sigh, but you’re blushing now, and he can see it. He reaches across the table to tap your necklace gently with one finger and intertwined your hands with the other.

“It looks good on you,” he says, voice quieter now, sincere, like it’s a secret he doesn't want the rest of the room to hear. “I like knowing you carry a little piece of me around with you.”

Your smile softens, the moment suddenly feeling much softer than before. “I always do. Not just the necklace.”

He grins, like he’s won something more important than a race. “Still getting the monogrammed suit, though.”

“You’re such a menace.”

“A menace in love,” he says proudly, then flags down the waiter like nothing's happened.

taglist: @verogonewild

(comment if you would like to be added!)

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overexciteddragon · 1 year ago

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I need to fucking talk about this scene BADLY

The fact that DunMeshi actually depicts starving dwarves as ripped muscular anime boys is, to me, absolutely incredible. I can't stress how often fat people starving are depicted as either skin and bones or ✨️beautiful and healthy✨️ (the latter being a body shape that they are encouraged to maintain), it's straight up a trope in so much media for skinny people to be depicted as fat in the past as if it's some "dirty secret", or for fat people to be depicted as unhealthy/ugly until they starve themselves enough to become "attractive", and on top of that the depiction of the Dehydrated Adonis Protagonist has become more and more present in our day-to-day media

Meanwhile, it's becoming more widely known that this isn't how bodies work at all; that fat isn't inherently unhealthy and that ripped bodies aren't just impossible to maintain but often quite dangerous. All of that put together, the depiction of more actors and characters that are fat, chubby, large, etc and not used as comedic relief has been so, so important to really hammer home that lean, dehydrated muscular bodies aren't necessarily something to aim for

But especially, dwarves being shown to have the same physical features as these ripped muscly characters (lean, bulging muscles, sharp cheekbones, defined pecs and neck muscles, etc) when they're starved, and that being depicted negatively is such a huge deal. This is also coming from the same anime in which one of its male protagonists is the epitome of the hero-- an athletic tall man in a shining knight's armour with a big shiny sword-- and he isn't shredded, he's got a tummy, he's got soft arms, he's clearly strong and muscular but it's all protected by a healthy layer of body fat

I'm never gonna shut up about how Dungeon Meshi has been such an incredible vehicle of body diversity with neither insidious fatphobia/queerphobia/racism nor performative (and frankly harmful) allyship behind it. I'm excited for how many young people (and older too!) will be made to slowly but surely question their internalized and ingrained fatphobia or general medical misunderstandings about weight as they watch/read this series. These are such important details and not enough media addresses them in such subtle but clear ways.

Bless Ryoko Kui but also bless Trigger for not doing what a lot of studios do (thinning characters and lightening their skin colours)

#dunmeshi #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #personal #body acceptance #body neutrality #dungeon meshi s01e23 #dunmeshi s01e23 #delicious in dungeon s01e23

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ice-creamforbreakfast · 3 months ago

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🌵👽The Juno Collection - A Collaboration with Juno Birch and Surely-Sims👽🌵

🚀Download🚀(Patreon - Free)

PAUSE!!!

YES TODAY, the absolutely stunning collaboration between @surely-sims, the alien queen herself, Ms. Juno Birch, and I is finally here 👽!!!

Surely-Sims and I have both been longtime fans of Juno, so getting to do this collab has been an absolute dream, and we're so excited to finally get to share it with you all!

Let's get into it!!

Alien Glam Hair - There's nothing more camp and fabulous than a full head of rollers, other than perhaps a roller behive! Get ready in style with this gawjus hairstyle! Not hat compatible.

Swatches - 24 Polys - 26786 (so demure)

Incognito Hair - Who is that absolutely stunning woman? It's just Juno doing her shopping and looking like a completely normal human woman with this modest behive in a scarf! Not hat compatible (other than the scarf overlay)

Swatches: 24 (hair) 35 (overlays) Polys: 2432 (actually demure)

More after the cut:

Attack of the Stunning Gown - A glamorous take on Juno's glamorous take on Alien Girl's gown from Mars Attacks! Check off floor length fishtail sequin gown from your Ice-CreamForBreakfast bingo cards!

Swatches: 20 Polys: 9460

Katelyn Dress - A typical Juno silhouette with an a-line shape, bishop sleeve and a feather trim! This dress comes in a variety of swatches and is sure to turn heads!

Swatches: 50 Polys: 8182

Kristen Outfit - Another Juno go-to is this blouse, skirt and waistcoat combo! Show your friends who's the true alien fashion queen (still Juno, sorry diva) in this 70s get up!

Swatches: 38 (outfit) 54 (blouse overlay) Polys: 5144

Erin Outfit: Sister to the Kristen outfit, and probably one of Juno's most recognisable looks. Make a statement with this giant collar!

Swatches: 38 (outfit) 54 (blouse overlay) Polys: 5606

Untitled Sausage Dancer Costume - Juno reaches full power in a hotdog costume, so it only felt right to include one! True to the original, this features realistic bread textures and lettuce that isn't quite lettuce... Oh and who can forget the stunning flippy fringe? She's technically a hat!

Swatches: 6 (costume) 24 (fringe accessory) Polys: 4998

Attack of the Stunning Boots - Where would an alien queen be without a pair of patent platform boots? Probably in some other type of shoe, but perhaps not one quite so stunning! These quintessential boots will really complete any alien's look.

Swatches: 35 Polys: 3244

Vivienne Heels - Inspired by a particular pair of 1990 Vivienne Westwoods, these heels really make an impact...especially if you're landing from space!

Swatches: 35 Polys: 786

Stunning Sunglasses: Aside from the blue skin, Juno is known for her very specific sunglasses with the incredibly realistic painted highlights that allow her to blend seamlessly with the Earth's population. Also available in regular tinted and clear lenses.

Swatches: 38 Polys: 1876

Gawjus Gloves: Your regular kitchen gloves made better with some stunning nail polish! An important piece of the human disguise. Comes in fitted and loose versions.

Swatches: 35 Polys: 1748 (loose only)

Cucumber Eye Mask & Facepack - Look after your gawjus blue skin with this hydrating facemask, paired with some ominously floating cucumber slices! Swatches: 12 (mask) 1 (cucumber) Polys: 192 (cucumber)

Juno's Sickening Makeup - She's a makeup queen now...well no, I'll probably never do makeup again, but it would be truly rude to deliver a Juno set without her stunning drag makeup! This includes brows, eyeshadow, blush, lips and highlights.

Pop Earrings - Are they popped gum, are they shiny brains? Answers may vary, but these earrings are iconic and bring some 80s flair to an outfit!

Swatches: 35 Polys: 7788

Cyberslut Ear Stretchers - Lovely, and very shiny hoop ear stretchers when you want to make a statement, but a regular hoop just isn't doing it.

Swatches: 35 Polys: 1461

Circe Earrings V1 - Simple button earrings in a truly 60s/70s style!

Swatches: 45 Polys: 260

Circe Earrings V2 - The same Circe earrings, but bigger!

Swatches: 45 Polys: 260

Noodlesoother Earrings - Oversized, abstract 60s/70s earrings for that truly mod look!

Swatches: 41 Polys: 4584

Stunning Cat Glasses - A pair of sunglasses for Juno's sweet baby Cyril! Now they can blend in with the humans together! The space cats are gatekeeping these glasses from the space dogs. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Swatches: 35 Polys: 1476

Gawjus Wall Paint - 35 Plain paint swatches with white crown and skirting in the expanded Juno palette! Gawjus Wallpaper - A collection of camp, kitschy, mid-century and mod patterns to brighten up your spaceship or home. Country Carpets: Yes, the 'r' is silent. Lovely carpets in the same swatches available for the wall coverings!

Juno's Stunning Artwork: Juno's art explores the world as an alien, often pulling inspiration from the trans experience. Add one of these statement pieces to your home for a truly unique talking piece your neighbours will covet but never own (apart from Sylvia-Marie Mashuga. She would totally own at least one). Also comes in a SFW version for the streamers among us...and also anyone who likes a PG experience.

Swatches: 10 Polys: 3036

Joy Despret Begone Sign - The most wretched and cursed vermin in the Junoverse, the Joy Desprets! When they see that you have all this stunning content, they'll come visiting. Head them off with this sign.

Swatches: 4 Polys: 246

Mind Boggling Mirror - Want to feel like Juno is always watching you? Perhaps even judging that outfit? Of course you do. Bring that feeling home with this mirror fashioned after her iconic glasses.

Swatches: 35 Polys: 1437

Judith Louise Doll - What Juno set would be complete without the Christina to her Joan, Ms. Judith Louise! Judith comes in a somewhat clean swatch, as well as a trashed swatch. That's not all, she also comes in a flying version as an oscillating fan!

Swatches: 2 Polys: 14910

Juno in the Moon Neon Light - What is your house/ship missing? This. Why wouldn't you want a neon light version of Juno's face in your living room?

Swatches: 1 (adjust with the light options) Polys: 8566

And that brings us to the end of my part of the collab! If you're not following Juno, check out her socials here! Go check out @surely-sims' part of the collab here (preview below)!

#ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4cc #ts4mm #maxis match #always free cc #the sims #juno birch

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guppybibi · 8 months ago

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Simon is a stealthy man, obviously—it's required for his job. Though the fact isn't quite true when it comes to proposals. You could clearly tell what he had in store for you the moment he coincidentally didn't have any work to do when the weather was just right and when he suggested that it was the perfect time of year to propose relax and go on vacation to anywhere you'd like.

Of course, you play along obliviously and decide to go to a tropical place that you've been eyeing for a while now. Simon wasn't complaining about your choice either, a chance to watch the sunset together and see you in a cute swimsuit? Sign him up!

So he books you two a tropical getaway, and insists that you should use his card to go shopping for a nice little dress, yeah? What's your ring size too, love? For future reference..nothing else.

The trip so far has been nothing but perfect, the plane surprisingly had enough leg space so Simon was comfortable the whole time. No turbulence either, it was like God was on Simon's side this time.

When you two arrive at your destination, the fresh breeze gladly greets you and the sun's heat is making beads of sweat form on your forehead already. It seemed like the heat had the same effect on Simon as well, although he was sweating more profusely than you for some reason..He'd never tell but he was insanely nervous right now, it felt like his guts were being turned inside out over and over again.

Everything does go smoothly, you two arrive at the hotel he reserved, quickly changing into your swimsuits since you couldn't wait to go out there and take a stroll around the beach. Maybe collect some seashells as a souvenir, build sandcastles or get a tan, do whatever you want, princess. Simon's going to be right beside you the whole time, glaring sharp daggers at anyone who even dares to look at you in the wrong way. Was it too much and completely unnecessary? Maybe, but you could never be too safe in these times. Creeps were always everywhere, casually walking around in broad daylight, hidden in plain sight.

Every single thing you wanted to do or get, was done and bought. You had to say, you were pretty surprised when Simon wasn't making any sarcastic comments about how he wasn't a money dispenser. Not even batting an eye when you got something from a clear tourist scam, weird. But hey, you're really in no place to complain here. Plus, money comes back, but the memories you and Simon will make here won't.

Hand in hand, step by step, you and Simon walk by the shore, your eyes full of adoration as you tried tracing the glow of the sun's light on Simon's face. You couldn't tell what was more breathtaking, the landscape or the man in front of you? The sun was bound to set soon, though it never really rests, you couldn't even imagine being the sun, working nonstop with no breaks is a big no no.

Quite ironic since in Simon's eyes, you were technically his sun. You were the center of his world, everything was peaceful when he was around you. Unlike when he's in the military, it always feels like he's out of orbit.

He has to do it, his heart can't contain it anymore. He has to propose, he's going to propose. Right here, right now. It was the perfect moment, the sunset peering, maybe a few folks watching but Simon couldn't give a damn about them. This was about you.

"Love," he calls out, stuffing his hand into his pocket to get the ring box. You snap back to reality, tilting your head in acknowledgement. You were taken aback by the sight of him kneeling on one knee, holding out a box with a shiny ring inside that you were barely able to hear the words, "Will you marry me?".

Without hesitation, you scream out "Yes!" at the top of your lungs, leaving Simon chuckling, still not getting up. "Wait up, luv. I prepared a message for you, mind if I tell you it first?" You were still jumping around the place, looking like you were about to bounce off to outer space. Once you manage to collect your excitement, you nodded, preparing yourself to hear Simon's message to you.

It was all about how you were the light of his life, all of that. It was short and sweet, not unnecessarily long but truly from the heart.

It's safe to say that the both of you went home from that trip with a big grin on your faces.

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robinminustherichard · 1 month ago

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Fuck(ing) it Friday 😈

Rating: E | Bucktommy

The thing that convinces Buck to stay in LA is Tommy.

Or, to be honest, Tommy's cock. Buck just doesn't know that yet.

After Chim's big speech, nothing actually changed except for Buck being expected to move out with barely two weeks notice; lest he wanted Christopher to be homeless. So of course Buck leaves. He gets a temperature controlled storage unit that can't actually afford to waste money on, and he starts apartment hunting.

The realtor is nice and does want to help him, she tells him that her dad was a firefighter too, but he just can't seem to find anything he likes in anything she shows him. Too new, too shiny, too cold. So he tells her that he needs some time to think about it and starts looking at new cities instead.

He has his sights set on San Diego and he doesn't really know how to tell anyone, so he figures he can go practice by telling Tommy.

Except, that was an hour and two rounds ago, and Buck is now blinking sweat out of his eyes while he rides Tommy into the stupidly plush California king mattress that Buck could never admit to loving more than anything he's ever slept on.

"Fuck, Evan, please," Tommy bites out, not even a sentence. Buck has been moving torturously slow, feeling the burn in his thighs as he moves up, holds, down, holds, grinds, and does it all again.

Tommy probably doesn't deserve it, but Buck feels something harsh and powerful rise up in him when he sees how he's got Tommy begging for Buck's body--feels something click into place when he realizes that for the first time in weeks he's in control here, totally and absolutely.

Buck bites at his lip hard, closes his eyes and lets his head hang back for a moment. He sits up, Tommy's cock just barely popping through his rim. His eyes open when he hears the groan Tommy lets out, quickly followed by a hiss when he realizes that Buck isn't moving.

"Evan," Tommy says, trying sweet. It gets him nowhere, Buck just tilting his head and looking down at him. Tommy huffs, narrows his eyes and tries again.

"Evan, move." It's forceful this time, and it's closer to what Buck wants, but it just isn't enough. He holds his position and when Tommy moves to shoot a hand up and grab Buck's hips, Buck's hands grab at his wrists and pin them to the bed.

Tommy thrashes, and Buck knows the grin that takes over his mouth isn't exactly a nice one. He knows that Tommy can overpower him, that he's got a stronger core and a better eye for grappling, but he also knows that he can't fully get out from under Buck's hold without risking hurting himself or Buck.

"Evan, fucking move or I'll--"

"You'll what, Daddy?" Buck says, forcing his tone to go bored and unaffected. His thighs are starting to shake, but he's going to hold this until he goads Tommy into what he wants.

This was always the problem with you two, a voice in Buck's head says, never just saying what you want.

Buck's too far gone, too deep into feeling like he has a say in what happens to him right now, he feels drunk on it. Buck presses Tommy's wrists tighter and watches his eyes flare open wider.

"That's how this is going to be?" Tommy says lowly, dangerous in a way that excites Buck.

Nothing like feeling afraid of Eddie in kitchen that was only his for a month and a half.

Buck makes deliberate eye contact with Tommy, stares him down and slowly loosens his grip, trailing his fingers down Tommy's arms, skating his blunt nails down Tommy's chest, catching on his nipples. Tommy never looks away, and he doesn't move his arms from where they still lay where Buck pinned them.

"That's how this is going to be." Buck says, clearly and without hesitation, feeling like his whole body is shaking now.

"God, you--" Tommy says, cutting himself off with a harsh breath out. For a moment Buck thinks that he's read this wrong, that he's finally asked for too much, that he's gone and fucked up the last thing that could have made him feel okay, even for one afternoon.

And then he's flipped so fast that he doesn't even realize it's happening until his back hits the mattress. His breath rushes out of him, and he thinks he tries to say something, but any words he could have gotten out are stolen when Tommy grips his thighs harshly and yanks them up over Tommy's, cock sliding in with no resistance.

Buck lets out a long whine, keening and involuntary, and it takes him a moment to realize that Tommy is fucking into him with short and pounding thrusts that jumble Buck's brain and slam against his prostate repeatedly.

"Fucking hell, you come here and tell me you're fucking leaving and then this is how you act? By being a fucking brat?"

Despite how mean the words should be, Buck feels them settle over him like a blanket, like a lap bar on a roller-coaster keeping him in his seat, like the only thing that's tethering him to his body right now.

His orgasm hits him like a freight train, ripping a near-scream out of his throat, Tommy never stopping through it all. Buck thinks he whites out a bit, thinks he might be somewhere else for a moment before Tommy's biting down more gently than he deserves where Buck's shoulder meets his neck and letting out a vibrating moan that Buck feels in the walls of his heart.

"God damn you make me fucking crazy," Tommy is telling him before he's grabbed by the back of the neck and hauled into a kiss that barely qualifies as one, Buck unable to get his lips to do anything but form a perfect 'O' around the sounds Tommy is forcing out of him, "you can't just leave, Evan, how are you gonna get fucked this well somewhere else, huh? How are you gonna get this needy fucking hole filled hours away from me? Didn't even let me put a condom on and you think you can just leave after this?"

Buck thinks his mouth is trying to say something but only moans fall out of it, going breathy every time Tommy buries himself to the hilt. He feels wild with it, like he's just crash landed back into his ribcage and is ricocheting around in it.

Buck's floating for a long time after that, or maybe it was a few seconds, he's not sure. He feels good, so good in a way that he hasn't in months. Nothing bad can touch him there, only Tommy's hands, softer than before; gently easing Buck's legs off of his hips, rubbing down Buck's bad leg, reaching up to card through his too-long hair.

"--Evan?" Tommy's voice breaks through and Buck realizes he's probably been trying to get his attention for a while.

"I, uh, sorry," is all Buck can say, looking up at Tommy and swallowing thickly. His throat feels raw and his eyes burn.

"Yeah, that's what you've been saying. Why are you sorry, Evan?" Tommy's face is concerned, his eyebrows drawn together and mouth twisted.

"I said I'm sorry already?" Buck asks, trying to remember but coming up short.

"That's all you've been saying for about five minutes."

"Oh, so--"

"Don't say you're sorry. Tell me what's wrong."

Buck looks away from him then, feeling raw. He blinks a few times and feels mortification settle in for a moment when he realizes that he's been crying.

"I don't-don't--" Buck says, trying to come up with anything that will salvage this one last moment with Tommy, "I don't know. Nothing. Everything."

Tommy's hand comes up to cup Buck's jaw and turn his head, and Buck doesn't fight it even when it brings his eyes right back to Tommy's.

"I'm sorry, Evan. I shouldn't have asked you questions like that when you're coming out of a drop. I'm going to hold you now, and then I'm going to feed you, and then we can talk, and I won't be mad no matter what you tell me."

Buck waits for a flare of annoyance to bubble up in him just like it has towards everyone else who has tried to handle him lately, but it never comes. It's so different, it's to him and not about him, it's reassurance instead of patronization.

"O-okay," Buck manages, wobbly but there all the same.

Tommy makes good on his promise, he reaches into his night stand for supplies and wipes them both down gently and efficiently; then gathers Buck up in his arms and holds him with an arm across Buck's chest and leg between his knees. Buck feels panic flare and die in his throat almost simultaneously, and he lets himself have this for a moment.

#bucktommy #911 spoilers #bucktommy fic #fuck it friday fic #rob writes #rated E

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vanteguccir · 3 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSTURNIOLO SURPRISE TOUR DAY 1 * CHRIS STURNIOLO * BLURB

SUMMARY　::　where during the first show of the Surprise Tour, a sign from a fan in the audience catches Chris's attention.

FEATURING　Chris Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　no.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: Wrote this while waiting for the opening of the gates in Lollapalooza, so I'm sorry if it isn't good 😭

A/N³: I don't remember if there was a rule for signs, but I had this idea so pretend that it's allowed 🤓

Chris leaned back in the medium orange fluffy couch, fingers drumming absentmindedly against the microphone as he let his gaze drift across the seated crowd, Nick's voice sounding like a background sound.

The venue was filled with excitement - including his. Every seat was occupied, fans sitting with their hands clutched in their laps or resting on their knees, only able to express their enthusiasm through loud screams instead of frantic movement.

The no-recording rule meant no phones were raised, no glowing screens obstructing the view, just pure, undistracted attention on the triplets.

Chris adjusted his mic, about to move on to the next segment when his eyes snagged on something that made his lips twitch into a smirk.

"Wait." He cut in suddenly, interrupting whatever Matt was about to say. "Before we show them the surprise, can I read a sign from a fan real quick?"

A new wave of screams erupted. Fans, despite being seated, tilted their heads, trying to follow his line of sight. Hands clutched the edges of armrests in anticipation, and whispers skittered through the crowd.

Matt glanced at Nick, who shrugged and gave a quick go-ahead gesture.

Chris grinned, leaning forward slightly.

"Hi! Can I read your sign?" He asked, pointing to a specific girl in the crowd. The girl’s eyes went wide, her entire face lighting up in disbelief. For a moment, she sat completely frozen, her hands trembling as she gripped the paper. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, she nodded rapidly, her expression torn between excitement and utter shock.

Chris cleared his throat, exaggerating the motion as he held the mic close.

"Alright, let’s see." He mused, squinting dramatically. "Your sign says, 'I’m only here for Y/N-'"

Chaos.

Pure, unfiltered chaos.

The fans couldn’t jump, couldn’t wave their arms, but their screams alone shook the walls. Some clutched their chests, and others turned their heads frantically, scanning the audience in search of her.

I mean, they didn't even know that she would be there.

Chris pulled the mic away, shaking his head with a disbelieving laugh as he instinctively turned toward the section where he knew she was sitting.

And there she was.

Y/N sat comfortably, her legs crossed, shiny clothes curving around her body, hands resting on her lap. Her smile was radiant, pure amusement dancing in her eyes that watched him like he was the only person in the entire room.

Chris exhaled a soft chuckle, lifting a hand to point at her.

"Unbelievable." He muttered into the mic, shaking his head playfully. Then, turning back to the audience, he smirked. "Well, I can’t even judge you. Everywhere I go, I’m only there for Y/N, too."

Another round of screams exploded through the venue, fans absolutely losing their minds. Chris, adoring the reaction, leaned back into his chair, eyes still locked on Y/N as if she were the only thing that mattered.

And to him, she was.

Her fingers decorated by black nails lifted to her red tinted lips, blowing him an air kiss before mouthing a slow "I love you".

Chris’s heart swelled, warmth spreading through his chest as he smiled, cheeks heating - probably because of the yellow lights, of course.

"I love you more." He mouthed the words back, blue eyes shining. "Alright, attention back to me now."

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hedwig221b · 4 months ago

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I gotta ask now since I’m not seeing it in the rec list, do you have any good recommendations for jock Derek stories?

I do 💕

Cut to the Bone by standinginanicedress

“Not that it’s any of your god damn business, but my name is Stiles. Do you need something?” The alpha grins. All teeth, shiny white, straight as an arrow. He’s got this sculpted perfection to him that Stiles is sure has worked on all the omegas he’s ever encountered before, but Stiles stands his ground and narrows his eyes. “A date.” Stiles looks him up and down, slowly, from the black shoes on his feet, to his uniform khakis and blazer littered with pins, to his face. He frowns, makes a face, and says, “pass.”

Pong Me, Bro by LadyDrace

Stiles doesn't date jocks, because it seems like all they do is prance around making a spectacle of themselves to impress whoever they're trying to hook up with. It's pathetic, and Stiles isn't into it. Which is probably why it somehow completely escapes his notice that one particular jock is determined to catch his eye.

You Look Like Bad News (i gotta have you) by standinginanicedress

Option A : violently tell Derek that they are under no circumstances ever to hook up again because it was stupid and dumb. Option B : tell Scott the truth, stand back and watch as Scott kills Derek with his bare hands so Stiles doesn't even have to face the music. Not an option at all, actually. Expunge this from the record. The real Option B : calmly explain to Derek that the situation is too fucked up and hey, maybe if Derek and Scott ever shake hands and make up, he and Stiles can hook up again because, man…it was great. Option C : forget everything, charge headfirst into danger like fuckin' Bravehart and have sex with Derek all over again. Option D : bury himself alive and wait for the worms to eat him.

soluble by HalfFizzbin

Derek comes back after summer break all hot, beardy and brace-less. Stiles honestly has no idea what everyone's freaking out about.

When the Rose Blooms by DevilishBittersweet

The first time Derek saw him was at a football game. There he was, cheering loudly for number 12, leaning over the bar in front of the bleachers. His nose was bright red due to the cold night air. His messy hair was half covered by a loose beanie. His skin was almost translucent under the large stadium lights. Derek’s acute sight could pick up the small moles that covered his face. Derek could hear his heart beat thrumming loudly in his chest out of excitement. He saw his friends around him. But Derek had his eyes set only on him.

Sandbox Love is Forever by Dexterous_Sinistrous

Being at different colleges, miles apart, meant that they’d likely be too busy for each other. An unstoppable force tearing them apart. But he could hold on for now. “Okay,” Stiles shakily answered, clearing his throat before continuing, “I’ll go with you after the game.” The corners of Derek’s lips started to turn up into a small but hopeful smile. It was different from the smile Derek did for football. It was always more personal—genuine—when he looked at Stiles.

A Thousand Fiery Suns of Angst - Just Press Play by apocryphal

All Stiles wants from life is to learn to control his magic, keep his grades up, and not die horribly while saving Beacon Hills from supernatural threats. It's all going pretty well until Derek Hale, werewolf extraordinaire, has to go and ask him on a date. That asshole.

Made Your Mark on Me (A Golden Tattoo) by writteninthewolfstar

Beacon Hills High and Lycan Heights High are well-known enemies. Derek Hale, Lycan Heights' star quarter-back, is well-known for being aggressive and arrogant. Imagine Stiles surprise when he discovers that Derek Hale is actually his soul-mate.

loving him is red by allhalethekings

"Who’s that?” Stiles asks, eyes not leaving the table. “Who?” Scott asks, following Stiles’s line of sight. “Him? That’s Derek Hale. And you better forget about him. He doesn’t date."

erroneous manoeuvres by slippingfromreality

"Hey, Stilinski!” Stiles clenches his teeth. “What do you want, Hale?” he shouts back, not bothering to turn around. The smug smirk that’s most likely waiting for him is already seared into his mind from overexposure. “A date!” the answer comes, still as loud, and most of the bystanders giggle or snort in Stiles’ direction. Stiles rolls his eyes. This is the third time this week. He’d complain that Hale’s jokes are getting pretty stale, but he’d probably be milking this situation for all that it’s worth, too, if their roles were reversed. “Wrong aisle,” he grouses back, “try the bakery section. I hear they have fresh tarts.” Or, in which Stiles grievously misjudged his bullying situation.

If I should stumble, catch my fall by Gorgeousgreymatter

Well, friendship is canceled. That's all Stiles can think when he walks into the locker room and finds it empty, with Scott's dumb werewolf ass completely AWOL despite the text message he'd received assuring him otherwise. Which wouldn't be that bad, if not for the fact that now Stiles is face to face with a very wet, very naked Derek Hale.

Kingdom By The Sea by kilaem

Lydia grabs his arm and pulls him down in the seat next to her. “When the hell did you find time to bag a guy like Hale?” “We’re friends,” Stiles feels his face heat up, and then the team are running out and Derek sees him and smiles. His blush gets worse. “Oh really?” “Our moms were friends, okay? We’ve been in diapers together.” “I thought you two hated each other.”

Game On by stilinskisparkles

Derek first sees him from across the quad four days into fall semester. He’s sitting on one of the long benches, a marker pen in his mouth, grinning at something the kid lounging on the bench beside him is saying. When he laughs properly he pulls the pen out and throws his head back, his neck a long, lean line Derek is entranced by. He flicks the page in his book and highlights something, tossing the cap up in the air and catching it with his teeth.

[masterlist link]

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raytoroapologist · 8 months ago

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i think when putting together a timeline of events here it's important to remember that the black parade music video takes place 10 to 15 or so years before the patient dies, it's a flashback to his childhood when he went to see the parade, and he's not lucid at the moment the music video starts. we can assume that the planes and more scary/decrepit imagery is not from his childhood trip, but is influenced by what he's seen in the war, or the noise of the warplanes overhead while he's in the actual hospital room (correct me if im wrong, but i believe the war isn't yet over when he dies)

the imagery we have from the welcome to the black parade music video is not what the landscape of the country actually looked like, in contrast to the very real and grounded feeling the dictator trailer had. it was the last hallucinations of a dying man. a distant and dim city, war planes, a childhood memory, drawn curtains, nurses, and the beeping of medical equipment.

I think it's also worth noting the similarities between the ashes falling on the black parade and the papers/confetti falling in the new promo. you could definitely argue it's just to take up visual space, but I think the comparison is interesting nevertheless.

Here are some more obvious parallels between visuals, specifically the skylines, in chronological order. War and decay, shiny new fascism, and the ruins of (presumably, although the differences in window shape and the neons throw me off, so it may be unrelated) that same city.

the visuals of welcome to the black parade are very very inspired by german expressionist film movements, especially the cabinet or dr caligari, and the last things i wanted to point out here were the nods to that in the set of the wwwy shows with the vignette/spotlight overtop a single figure

but yea! just very excited to break down any imagery to come and finally put my art degree to good use

#find later

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firefighterkinard · 4 months ago

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My controversial opinion is that I do actually get why Tommy thinks he's just this shiny new toy in Buck's life and that Buck will eventually get tired of him and find a new one.

So much of how we know Buck feels about Tommy is conveyed to other characters and not Tommy himself. Buck shows how possessive he already is of Tommy when talking to Maddie and gets all happy when she asks Buck to tell her about Tommy. Buck tells Eddie that he can't stop thinking about Tommy. Buck tells Josh he can see a future with Tommy and that Tommy's needs are as important as Buck's own and that he thinks about Tommy when he isn't there.

Tommy never hears any of this. Buck never tells him on-screen.

What Tommy gets is "we dated the same woman, it was weird for me to find that out, move in with me" in a single conversation, with no time to process it (despite Buck needing to process it and talk to people about it). With the added bonus of Buck bringing up marriage soon after finding out Tommy was engaged to Abby.

In fact, the most information that Tommy ever gets onscreen about Buck's feelings for him leads up to Tommy kissing Buck. And then after "I wanted to get to know you" and "that something could be with you" conversation they apparently never went deeper than surface level conversations for six months. And the one scene we see involves Buck diverting the conversation away from how Tommy's dad being a lot like Gerrard, and obviously not wanting to talk about his own issues with his parents.

And I don't think it was intentional on Buck's part. I think he didn't want to talk about the shitty details of being a failed saviour sibling, and I don't think he wanted to make Tommy relive either his dad or Gerrard while on a date. Hell, I think it took them 6 months to talk about exes because Buck didn't want to scare Tommy off by telling him what he did to Taylor, or how he tried to hold on to Abby for months after she was already gone.

I think Buck was so happy with Tommy that he never considered actually telling Tommy that he liked Tommy, because obviously Tommy would know that, right? (He did not.) I think he got so excited over wanting Tommy to move in with him that he forgot to tell Tommy why he wanted him to move in.

If the writers were better (and if they hired queer people to write queer stories, which is a related problem), this would be a classic miscommunication plot.

#bucktommy #Evan Buckley #Tommy Kinard #tevan

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

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Running To You

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, control, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Sister series to Just What I Needed

Summary: You're rescued by a man who you don't even know is a real hero.

Characters: nomad Steve Rogers

Note: a stressed out steve rogers plus a cutie. it bloomed from the theory of Steve's beard being a symbol of his darker side, or a darker state of mind. In the wat that he would usually pride himself on a neat appearance but lets himself go a bit when he's not at his best.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You stumble up over the curb as you check the list on your phone. Oops, you should really look where you're going. You steady yourself and giggle at your own clumsiness. For how precise your inventory is, the rest of you is a bit of a clutter.

You dodge through the onslaught of pedestrians and apologise a deep 'hey, lady' thunders through at you. You quickly dip into the store and shield yourself with the door. You gasp and catch your breath, smiling at the associate nearest to you. The organic shop probably isn't the most exciting place to shop but it has most of the ingredients you need. Raw honey, tallow wax, essential oils...

You greet them with a small wave and 'hi' and turn to look at the shelves along the wall. They don't acknowledge you. Most people don't, not that you mind. You keep to yourself.

The door jingles and another customer enters. They pause by the door and look around. They might be lost. It's not unusual for one more person to wander in but usually they don't stay long.

He clears his throat and you do your best to focus on your list. You're going to need a basket. As you go to grab one from the stack, the man faces you. You shy away and stop short of latch onto one of the mesh baskets.

"Excuse me, miss," he holds up a familiar item; a red wallet with white polkadots. It's yours! "I think you dropped this."

"Oh, my, I did," you give a sheepish smile to his chest. He's an awfully big man. "Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem," he hands it over.

You accept it and hold it to your chest. You give a tiny shimmy, "thank you so so much!"

You dare to look up and meet his eyes. They're blue but reticent. He scratches his beard as he nods and backs up.

"I think I'm in your way," he grabs one of the baskets and offers it to you.

"Oh, no, but yes, thank you, I need one," you take it.

"Mm, yeah," he smooths out the tuft in his beard that he was pulling on. The hair is thick and coarse; the locks on his head are just as dense, pushed back away from the face, though his chin-length strands try to droop past his ears.

You put your head down and turn back to the shelves. He lingers, seemingly lost as he looks around. What's the odds that in a city like this someone would do something so nice? You look at the list again then peek over at him. He squints at a jar of sourdough starter.

"What do you use in your beard?" You ask then cover your mouth. "I'm sorry, that's not... polite, is it?"

He shrugs, "hm, I just use shampoo, I guess. Face wash?"

"Right. Well, it's pretty shiny." You scrunch up your face. "I'm sorry." You chew your lip in embarrassment. Your cheeks are ablaze. "I'm working on my beard oil. I make it. Um, sell it. But..."

"Beard oil," he repeats thoughtfully. "I don't... I guess maybe I should."

He touches his beard again, a crease between his brows.

"I don't meant to-- I... I'm not... it's cute. I mean. Suits you. I was just--" you show your teeth nervously. "I don't have a beard so..."

"Yeah," he agrees awkwardly and tucks his hair back behind his ears before it can fall forward.

"I ramble..." you drift off and face the shelves again. "I'll stop bothering you."

He inhales and backs up. He turns to the door then stops. You sense his gaze.

"It's a bit busy. Rush hour," he says. "You don't mind if I hide in here with you?"

You glance over. You shrug. "Um, yeah, sure. It's not my store. Not sure how interesting it is."

You fumble between the basket and your phone. You hum and scour the shelves with your eyes, scrunching your nose in concentration. He comes closer.

"What are you looking for?" He asks.

"Soybean oil."

"Soybean oil," he nods. "For..."

"Soap," you cheep.

"Ah. In my day, ma just used fat and lye."

You give his statement a thought. You've seen some recipes from way back. Like long ago. Almost a hundred years now. A lot of people prefer the gentler ingredients.

"Oh, that's cool that she made her own stuff," you muse as you take a canister and tap your spreadsheet to mark off that item.

"Yeah," you feel him trying to see the screen. "You're really organized."

"Can't forget anything," you say.

"Sure." He lurks and looks around before he focuses on you again. "I'm Steve, by the way."

You look at him. He's just as big as the last time you looked. His blue eyes seem uncertain. He can't be afraid of someone like you. You give your name.

"Nice to meet, you, Steve."

"You too," he agrees. "Can I help?"

"Oh, sure. What do you prefer? Rose or Gardenia?"

"Rose is nice," he says.

"I agree," you say and pluck up the small bottle.

"You said you sell stuff?"

"Sure do," you chime. You tuck the bottle into the basket. "You know, you don't have to pretend to care."

"What? I... I'm curious."

You eye him, "well, Steve, I'll believe you, but there's not much to be curious about."

His brows furrow, not so much in agitation, but intrigue. "The beard oil. How much?"

"Oh, you know, I could get you a sample from my hoard. Since you got me my wallet back. You don't have to do all that."

"I want to. I think you right," he runs his hands over his beard. "Needs a bit of taming."

You laugh, "looks good to me. Oh, you can try coconut oil. It's real easy and you can use it in your hair too."

"Coconut oil," he says. "I'll add it to the list. What about yours?"

"Soy wax," you look at your list. "I can use that for lots of things."

He lifts his heads, shoulders wide and straight, looking around on a mission. He strides around the rack behind him and you watch him search a shelf. He picks up two jars. He comes back to you. "Which do you prefer?" He holds up to two different sellers. You take the one in his left hand.

"Thank you," you grin.

"Next," he looks down at your phone.

"Jeez, you sure are helpful," you check again.

"They sell wicks. I need the long ones. Like this." You hold the basket and phone at a length.

He nods again, "on it."

You point him to the corner where they keep the candlemaking stuff and you go back to your own search. He's too quick for you. He has a hole bunch in hand. You have him put half in your basket and he takes the rest back.

Huh, looks like you made a friend.

🎀

Steve holds the door for you. It's so nice you thank him for what must be the dozenth time since you met. Maybe only even an hour ago.

As you get outside, you turn back to him, certain to keep away from the pedestrians who pay no heed to obstacles. "I can take that bag too."

He looks down as the door shuts behind him. "Pretty heavy," he says.

"Oh, I always do that. I forgot my little rolly bag," you shrug. "I can handle it."

"Wouldn't feel right letting you carry it all. Mrs. Rogers didn't raise a punk."

"Is that your mom? I bet she's nice too," you say. "It's alright, Steve. You've done enough. I owe you. My wallet would've been gone with the wind and I never coulda bought all this."

He stares at you, then once more peeks down at the fabric bag. You always bring the reusable; they're much stronger than the paper ones supplied in-store. He chews his lower lip.

"If you owe me, well, you wanna have a coffee? Together?" He asks.

You blink. That's so nice of him too.

"Coffee?" You press your lips together. You feel bad saying no. Not that you want to. It wouldn't be so bad to have someone to sit with. For once. "I don't drink it."

He nods, "tea? Hot chocolate? Water?"

You laugh.

"I'll have a cookie," you offer. "Um," you look up and down the street. "Where..."

"I saw a place. Never been in. Wanna give it a try?"

"Oh, cool. Yeah. I love new places, even if they're scary," you say.

"Here," he takes the other bag from your hands before you can argue. "It's a block back."

"Wait, Steve! I can carry that."

"Not if I'm around," he insists, "come on."

He rolls his shoulder in a gesture for you to follow. You huff and hop into motion. You walk next to him, wary of the oncoming people along the sidewalk. A man nearly bowls you over and you knock into Steve's elbow.

"Oof, I'm sorry."

"Get on the inside of me, doll," he says. "Used to be that people took their hat off when they passed a lady. Now they don't care if... well... you move."

He stops and lets you step across his path. He keeps you between him and the storefronts as he strides on undaunted. You wish you were as brave as him.

"Ah, there it is." He tilts his chin up.

You look ahead. You see the sign sticking out in the shape of a coffee cup.

"Oh, I see it," you hurdle ahead. "My turn."

You pull open the door as he follows. He stops to let another customer out before he enters. You follow him.

"There's a table," he nods.

You follow his gaze to the wall. You lead the way and he trails you. He puts the bags in one of the chairs.

"How about you sit?" He suggests. "What kind of cookie do you want?"

"Oh, Steve, uh," you pull out your wallet, "if they have oatmeal--"

"My treat." He insists.

"You can't do that," you argue.

"You gonna stop me?" He challenges. You gulp and blink at him. You don't think you could stop him from anything. He's quite the figure.

"I guess not." You murmur.

His expression softens, "hey, I'm kidding. I didn't... scare you, did I?"

"N-no," you force a smile. "I appreciate that. Thank you. Oatmeal. That's all."

"Alright. I'll be back." He turns and you see his shoulders rise and fall with a heavy breath.

You sit and jiggle your leg as you look around. You avoid the coffee shops, even the bakeries. They're always so busy. You are methodical in your ventures but today's seems to have gone off the rails. Not in the worst way. One time, you tried to take the subway and ended up lost in the rain.

There's women who look like they could be on a TV show with their fabulous dresses and perfect waves; a man in a suit with his laptop and a single earbud in, and an older couple near the door. There are many others in the line to get a treat of their own.

You turn in the chair and press your palms to the table. You stare at the wood between your hands. You feel the heat speckling over your scalp, that sense of suffocation burrowing into your chest, the voices swirling around you like a raging wind.

"Here," Steve interrupts your internal panic. He places a large cookie before you and mug. "They had this strawberry cream thing. No coffee."

You look at the pink concoction with a dark red swirl in the middle. "Mmmm," you lean forward to admire it. "Wow. It looks good."

He puts his own coffee down and moves the bags under the table. He sits and unzips his jacket to let the tension out of the fabric. You smile and pick up the cookie. You hide behind it.

"I can't eat this alone. It's as big as my face." You giggle.

You break it in two and offer him half. He eyes it for a moment then accepts it with a thanks. You take a bite then round your eyes at him. He's staring. Oh no. Is that rude? You chew and swallow quickly.

"What?" You hide your mouth behind your hand.

"Nothing. It's just..." he glances around the shop. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" You make googly eyes and cross them. "Is there something on my nose?"

He snorts. "No. There's not." He sighs. "Just haven't had a nice quiet coffee in a while. It's nice."

Your brows pop up and you smile big. "I'm sorry I'm not a big coffee person. I tried it once and it made my belly gurgle."

"It's fine. Bad habit," he taps the handle of his mug with his index finger. "Are you gonna try that cup of sugar?"

"Not much better, is it?" You pick up the mug and blow over it. You put your lips over the brim and taste it cautiously. You hum. "Mm," you pull it away. "Delicious! This is a tummy ache worth having."

His cheek dimples as he watches you. You fidget against his gaze. He's nice but you never had anyone stare at you so much.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #running to you #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #marvel #mcu #avengers #captain america

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mingtinys · 1 year ago

Text

what dating seventeen feels like

pairing : seventeen x gn!reader

headcanons , fluff , misc

warnings : none

word count : 1.1 k

requested ? no

a/n: just a small collection of the things i love in life that i associate with seventeen

choi seungcheol

falling asleep on the couch and waking up in bed. chocolate-covered strawberries. the kind of love found in romcoms. expensive dinner dates and champagne.

cologne that lingers on your clothes and bed sheets. tight, bone-crushing, hugs. his hand almost always under the hem of your shirt, skin to skin (it grounds him). him letting you win when you play wrestle. cute aggression victim.

having a rock to hold on to amidst a raging current.

yoon jeonghan

diving under a crashing wave to find calm, gentle, water. rollercoasters with big drops. feathers. lavender fields. leaving the theater and realizing night has fallen.

always saying the same thing at the same time (it scares seokmin). naps on the couch. sending each other pictures of weird-looking animals with the caption "you" or "us." partners in crime. braiding his hair.

having not only a boyfriend but a best friend in jeonghan.

joshua hong

warm blankets, fresh from the dryer. pancakes and orange juice in the morning. raw honey. the scent of freshly baked bread. scented candles and wax melts.

lives up to the gentleman title. opens doors, bides by the sidewalk rule, lends you his jacket, etc. acts! of! service!! fighting over who pays the bill (he's actually ambushed your waiter to pay before you can even see the check). domestic, mundane, slice-of-life type of love.

a honeymoon phase that never ends.

wen junhui

walking down empty streets without a care in the world. morning cartoons. clingy cats. ice cream for dinner. frozen pizza with red wine. airport liminal space hours.

taking pictures of sunsets to send to each other. doodling on his hand. staying up until 3am accidentally. back hugs galore. resting his chin atop your head. him getting as close as possible when showing him something on your phone (i'm talking cheek smooshed up against yours). sleepy jun asking for kisses every morning.

living life in the moment because you know the future can wait for you two.

kwon soonyoung

energetic snow days. sledding, snowball fights, building snowmen. energy drinks and all-nighters. watermelon sugar. summer bonfires. the ambiance of muffled music through club bathrooms.

zoo dates. always wins you the biggest prizes at carnivals. his favorite place to nap is your lap. sweaty post-dance practice hugs. he gets pouty if you start a tv show without him. baking brownies at 3am. talks about you non-stop to anyone who will (or won't) listen.

excitement that isn't momentary or overwhelming. excitement that makes life meaningful.

jeon wonwoo

tulips blooming in the spring. waxing gibbous moons. amethyst. resting after a long, busy day. the scent of old, yellowed books. rhythmic clicking of a keyboard. warm, smooth, riverbank stones.

re-adjusting his glasses for him after every kiss. let's you design his character's outfits in video games. tells you about the book he's reading like it's gossip. he's always taking candid photos of you. quiet mornings. elderly couples who see you two are reminded of how they fell in love.

defining love not by how much it's said, but by how it's felt.

lee jihoon

thunderstorms that lull you to sleep. shiny, red guitars coming to life with smooth melodies. the crackle of a fire. rosemary. empty highways at night. lightning that strikes twice.

morning coffee dates at home. napping on his studio sofa while he works. quality! time! absolutely spoils you every chance he gets. pretends to act all cool when you catch him staring. writing songs for you. his hand routinely finds your knee when he's anxious. he prefers intimate and private acts of affection to the alternative.

cherishing all the little things that make your relationship important.

lee seokmin

wishing on dandelions. blue skies. morning dew on grass. golden hour. that burning sensation you get in your lungs when laughing too hard. iced lattes.

always asking permission to kiss you. so, so attentive. falling asleep on facetime. pillow forts. lots, and lots, and lots of nose kisses. him never wanting to leave you in the morning. "five more minutes" type of guy. his favorite feeling in the world is making you laugh.

finally knowing what it means to love someone so much you'd give the world for them.

kim mingyu

sleeping by a window with the sun warming your skin. hearing your favorite song on the radio. silky white sheets. first date jitters. first love. receiving a bouquet of roses.

admires you so, so, much. talks about you 24/7, much to his members' annoyance. (jk, they love you, they just like to tease him about it). literally a sponge the way he starts picking up your habits and slang. he's physically incapable of rejecting your puppy-dog eyes. likes to lay sprawled out on top of you. he'll often seek you out if he needs a little extra support.

the feeling that comes with knowing you've found "the one."

xu minghao

the autumn leaves changing. winter constellations. a solar eclipse. the quiet of a house before everyone wakes. those cozy granny-square blankets. white wine. laughing at scary movies.

wine and painting nights. him always making two cups of tea. art museum dates. swaying together to music in the kitchen. him secretly being a sucker for your doting. has your mannerisms memorized and prides himself on it. somehow always knows what to say when you're feeling down.

growing, learning, and experiencing life alongside each other.

boo seungkwan

warm, summer air. mystery flavored lollipops that somehow taste like every flavor all at once. rosy red cheeks.

teasing each other and inside jokes. nicknames like loser, stupid-head, idiot etc. (affectionate). hours long gossip sessions. kisses that taste of coffee and tangerine chapstick. stars in his eyes whenever you're doing literally anything. having his undivided attention.

resident happy pill and mood-maker seungkwan knowing he can let his mask fall around you without judgement.

hansol vernon chwe

watching city lights blur past in the passenger seat of a car at night. cereal at 1am. falling asleep while watching tv. poorly handmade, yet meaningful gifts. assorted candies. buying road trip snacks.

communicating with a single look. ice cream dates in the middle of winter. speaking purely in movie and tiktok references. late-night conversations that take a weird turn. (you've once debated if aliens would like pineapple on pizza). pretending not to notice how shy he gets when initiating physical affection.

loving the strange, bad, and hidden parts of each other as much as the good.

lee chan

the comforting buzz and motion of a subway at night. toothy smiles. watching reruns of your favorite childhood show. surprise parties. the first snow of the new year. concert lights.

driving at 2am, singing at the top of your lungs. random dance parties in the living room. getting noise complaints and giggling about it. pillow fights and board games, competitive, yet both trying to let the other win cause it'll make them happy. asking him to open jars. him getting exceptionally giddy to open said jars. (you're completely capable, but know he likes to feel needed).

making each other's inner child feel safe.

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esmeefreckles · 5 days ago

Text

Falling in love | Alexia Putellas x Leah Williamson x reader

+18 SMUT MINORS DNI

BDSM. CANING. WHIPPING. SPANKING. STRAP-ONS. FINGER FUCKING. PRAISE KINK. IMPACT PLAY. HAIR-PULLING. ORGASM DENIAL.

A/N: A huge thank you to @sswed for being the best beta reader and helping me so much.

The city stretches out below us, night black and shimmering metallic beyond the window, pricked with electric lights like stars. Alexia lights the candles on the windowsill, their golden glow swells and flickers, dancing in the dark glass. She waves the match until the flame goes out, painting a small swirl of smoke in the air. It smells hot and burnt.

You feel Leah’s cold fingers then, intertwining with yours at your hip. When you turn, she isn't looking at you. You follow her gaze to the row of sleek wooden paddles of different sizes, hanging on the wall beside a golden-framed mirror. On the other side of the mirror: a collection of long, black leather and rubber floggers hanging from hooks. Canes of varying length and thickness. A slender riding crop with a golden handle. You watch as Leah’s blue doe eyes travel across the items, her lips slightly parted.

“Does it make you nervous?” you ask and she shakes her head but you don’t know whether to believe it before she replies.

“No,” Leah says and you hear her mean it, “I want to cross boundaries tonight.”

You feel Alexia’s presence swell behind you both and you resist a shiver of excitement. She reaches between you to hand each of you a glass of water.

“What kind of boundaries do you want to cross?” Alexia asks softly,

and as she turns to Leah you see their gazes drop to the other’s lips. You can feel a drop in your chest and you feel your eyes widen.

A final thought, before it begins, before it's already time: this is happening.

“I guess we can start with this one,” says Leah.

You watch as she reaches up to close her mouth on Alexia’s, you resist the urge to lick your lips and instead swallow deeply.

Alexia takes Leah’s face in her hand, fingertips on her jaw, in a gentle grip. Their soft, full lips move against each other, tasting, exploring. You feel Leah’s grip harden around your hand. Suddenly you know what this night is going to be. So very soft and so hard. You melt at the images crafted in your head. Hotness gathering in your chest and between your thighs, melting. Your skin ripples with goosebumps, your nipples harden.

Still holding Leah’s face in her hand, Alexia turns to kiss you next. Your tongues meet, while Leah breathes heavily next to you both. You feel Alexia’s hand at the side of your throat, a sweet caress slithering down to trace your shoulder, your arm, landing at your hip, pulling you close. You feel both of them against you, crushing the distance between, eliminating it. You all start to intertwine. Breasts press against breasts, nipples tease nipples through clothes, three pairs of thighs dance a slow, hypnotic dance against each other. Hands shape hips and waists. When your mouths permit it, you gasp for air, as if you’re drowning in the two of them.

The tension builds and shudders, and as you watch Alexia’s lips travel down the line of Leah’s jaw, and further down, Leah breaks. Alexia kisses her neck and Leah gasps out loud.

“God!”

Which makes Alexia laugh. When she leans back, her eyes are glowing. Lit up, it seems, with a new idea.

“Using the lord’s name in vain, are we?” she asks.

Her voice drips with hot, blood-tinged sarcasm. It reaches straight down between your thighs. She’s still playing with your hair as she watches Leah stutter.

“I… guess I am,” Leah says, panting. Shiny lips swollen from kissing.

Alexia nods, and that mean-looking tilt to her eyebrows, that you love, is there.

“And you,” she says, turning to you. “You’re a bad influence on her. Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you say, wasting no time because you cannot afford to waste it.

Alexia nods again, slowly, and she glances out the window through the corner of her eye.

“You can undress now,” Alexia says.

The words immediately awaken that familiar pull in you, deep down, pulsating slowly. The desire to please intermingles with the desire to rebel. A vibration, like a shudder, pulses between your legs. While Alexia and Leah watch, their gazes bathing you in the sensation of being wanted, you undress. You take your time, putting on a show, and you see a smile starting to form in the corner of Alexia’s mouth, but it seems like she is fighting it. Tension is already building in the room.

When you’re naked before them, both of them still dressed, your body already pounds with longing for Alexia’s hands, your skin rippled over and over with goosebumps, as if their absence leaves you freezing. You tense your thighs and feel the pressure against the growing pulse between them, the wetness spreading there. Leah stares at you like she’s never seen you naked before, which makes such warmth swell in your chest that you can’t stop a smile from spreading across your lips. Alexia smiles back at you, her eyes glowing. She looks hungry. Starving.

“Turn around and lean against the bureau,” Alexia orders, still fighting her smile.

Your body acts on its own. On the inside you’re soft and hot and liquid, quivering, but your muscles know what you want, and as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, you turn to rest your elbows on top of the bureau. Bending over, looking up into the mirror as you see both of them behind you, watching. Alexia finally smiles, and you’re overwhelmed with feelings, with wanting, with wanting to please her, and pleasure her, and have her. No, have them. Both of them.

“She tops you, doesn’t she?” Alexia says then, turning to Leah. “She dommes you?”

Leah’s eyes widen, “Yes,” she says, a hot whisper.

“How does it feel to see the one that dominates you get dominated?”

You scoff, realizing quickly you're not in a position to do so.

“Exciting,” Leah answers, with such burning sincerity that you can’t help but smile.

“Sadistic!” says Alexia, delighted, and she shoots you an impressed look in the mirror, “You’re full of surprises.”

Leah lets out a little laugh and you narrow your eyes at her reflection, thinking for a moment that you see her rubbing her thighs together.

“Would you like to pick out what I’ll use to punish her tonight?” Alexia asks, which makes your jaw drop.

While you watch, anticipation tightening in your chest, hands already damp against the top of the bureau, Leah reaches up to take a wooden cane down from its place on the wall. It lies flat across her hands as she brings it to Alexia. Before Alexia takes it, she pauses, waiting for Leah to look up into her eyes.

Leah’s face is immediately crimson as she locks eyes with her. Alexia takes the cane from her, continuing, “She is supposed to get at least ten lashes every night we spend together. I think we’ll make it fifteen tonight, since she’s such an instigator.”

Alexia whips the cane through the air, testing it, and you wince. The cane is the worst. The pain doesn’t smolder; it burns. It doesn’t tickle; it punishes, hard. And fifteen with a cane would certainly… sting. But the sound it makes when it sings through the air, and as it wacks across flesh, is just delicious, and the glowing red lines it leaves are truly beautiful. Of course Leah would love to see the cane, and of course Alexia wants to show off, now that you have an audience. And it feels good to be something she wants to show off.

Cane in hand, Alexia comes closer. She looks at you through the mirror. She looks so serious then that the laughter that’s constantly fizzing inside you almost bubbles up, but when her eyes narrow and another mischievous smile starts to curve the corner of her mouth, you bite down on it as you swallow hard, before you can stop yourself.

“Will you count the strikes for me, darling?” Alexia says while approaching you. Her voice is sweet, but the request sounds like a threat, “You can thank me afterwards.”

Your blood is boiling. Rising. Pleasure tenses between your legs, like something shivering, about to explode, and you nod.

Then, finally, Alexia’s hand is there. Warm and gentle and its touch so soft, she strokes the back of your one thigh, tracing upwards. She curls her fingers and the tips of her nails tease your skin into such goosebumps that you squirm in your bent-over position. Her hand becomes firm, holding you in place, and then it disappears and the cane rests against your right buttock. You twitch away from its coolness, as if expecting a blow, and you hear Alexia’s purring laughter behind you. You’re so close to commenting on it, saying something stupid again about her sadism. But then the cane leaves your skin in one swift movement, whining through the air as it’s lifted high and brought down again. A first spark of pain, a sizzling little firework. Your lips part, a silent gasp. That hot, electric pleasure swells inside your body and you squirm against your will, pressing your thighs harder together.

“One,” you say, forcing every ounce of sarcasm left in your body into the word.

Alexia’s smile is liquid warmth.

Alexia cracks you with the cane again, on the spot where she just a moment ago touched you with such tenderness,you let out a frail sigh.

“Two,” you say, already hearing your voice soften.

The cane rests for a moment against the pain, making it burn and you wince. Alexia smacks you again, on the other side of your ass, even harder and you moan out loud. Her laughter hums; she is pleased. She begins to whip you, one hand tangled in your hair, the other one swinging the cane and you count.

Alexia covers your ass and thighs with hot, stinging redness. She’s methodical. You count, whimpering with every smack, and even as you hang your head, letting loose strands of hair fall into your face, there’s this vibration radiating from behind you. You can feel them, both of them, watching, watching you wince and squirm. You feel them enjoy it, fiercely.

By ten counted lashes the pain is almost excruciating, and a single thought is circulating in your head: You need, you need, you need… you need her to fuck you. You feel like you would die without it.

You hear your voice break into sobs, though you’re not crying. Your body is about to explode with sensations.

“Fifteen,” you groan, finally, through your teeth.

And the hand in your hair travels down your spine like a shiver, a caress. Alexia starts to stroke the pulsating redness on your backside and thighs, tracing the crisscrossing lines there. You sigh and she hushes, balancing the cane on top of your lower back, to soothe and fondle you with both her hands. The wooden cane has warmed up to your body. The slight pressure of its weight feels like a lingering threat.

You let yourself rest under Alexia’s hands, as she hushes and pets you, rubbing your goose-bumped skin. She makes you feel strangely proud of having taken the thrashing, now that you have an audience and all. When her fingers trace the soreness tingling on your skin, all you are is that pain. And when Alexia slips down between your thighs and reaches the wetness there, all you are is the pleasure exploding under her touch. You gasp and let out a moan. Pleasure has grown alongside the pain, and, finally, the tension softens. Alexia’s touch softens and she slips her fingers into you. Without warning, and easily in your wetness, she goes all the way in. You cry out, nearly with laughter, with relief pouring over you.

“What do we say?” Alexia demands, and in her voice you hear her breathe as heavily as you do.

“Thank you,” you sigh. Meaning it with every fiber of your being.

“Good girl,” says Alexia and from somewhere further behind you, you hear Leah moan.

Once more, Alexia closes one hand in the tangle of your hair, gentler this time, lifting your head so you moan towards both your reflections in the mirror. Your breath fogging the glass. With her other hand Alexia starts to fuck you from behind, slowly, before picking up her tempo. First with two, and then when they’re not enough, three fingers. Steadily, she pounds into you, and you hear your own pleasure echoed in your voice, as Alexia sighs behind you, moaning softly.

When you lock eyes with Leah in the mirror then, your body swaying against the creaking bureau, you fix her gaze on yours, holding it there, watching her pupils dilate, her lips part, as Alexia fucks you towards climax. Almost all the way. When you’re on the edge, trembling, she slips out of you, and you let out a long, loud moan as a protest. Laughing, Alexia takes the cane from your back, before wrapping her arms around you, lifting you up to a standing position. She lets you rest against her chest, and you groan, the pain still sizzling on your backside. Alexia hushes you again, and you breathe until the frustration is bearable. That she won’t let you come yet must mean she has more in store. And that’s fine; you can be good a while longer.

Alexia puts the cane on top of the bureau, and then, as if choreographed, you both turn to look at Leah. She’s standing in the middle of the room, staring back at you both. You feel Alexia plant a kiss on the back of your head, and, gently, she lets go of you.

“Take a seat on the couch, please, Leah,” she says.

And you thought it wasn’t possible but Leah’s eyes widen even more. She’s quick to obey, as if relieved to finally be given instructions.

Leah sits on the edge of the couch, and you see Alexia keep her gaze in hers as she approaches her. You follow close behind, not wanting to miss a single moment of what is about to happen next. As Alexia leans down to kiss Leah, her chin in a gentle grip between Alexia’s knuckle and thumb, you feel yourself melt. Alexia kisses Leah so softly, so tenderly. Before you know what you’re about to do, you sink to your knees on the floor between Leah’s feet. Their kiss breaks. Leah looks down at you, lips shining with Alexia’s saliva as you put your hands on her thighs, feeling her shiver beneath your touch.

“Do you want this?” you ask Leah.

Leah stares at you, mutely, looking like she’s trying to say something smart. Finally, she just smiles, her cheeks glowing red and nods.

Alexia and you look at each other, sharing a single mind. She slides in behind Leah on the couch, wrapping her arms around her. Pulling her up into her lap, breathing hotly against her neck. Leah closes her eyes, and you see her soften against Alexia’s chest, leaning back into her embrace. Leah breathes heavily, as if in meditation, as Alexia takes her pants off.

Together you both part her knees, spreading her legs, and your pulse quickens, saliva gathering in your mouth, when you see a pair of white lace panties clinging to the folds of Leah’s pussy. Alexia watches you over Leah’s shoulder, her eyes lit up from within. You hear Leah whimper as you lean in.

You kiss the outside of her panties, tasting Leah through the fabric. You start out gently, before letting yourself become rougher, giving in to your hunger while hearing her moan with frustration. You’re so close, yet painfully separate.

Then you hear them kiss. Wet sounds, reaching down between your thighs to quiver there. You look up through your eyelashes and see them: Leah’s face in Alexia’s hand, their mouths locked. Alexia’s other hand moving beneath Leah’s shirt. You watch them, hypnotized, body still buzzing with pleasure and pain as the tip of your tongue moves in circles around Leah’s clit, before pressing down on it, gently, through the lace of her panties. Leah moans then, and Alexia smiles against her lips. She is writhing between the both of you now. The whimpering sounds she sighs into Alexia’s mouth makes your pussy throb.

Finally, the fabric beneath your tongue is soaked all the way through, and just as you reach your hand in to pull Leah’s panties aside, you feel Alexia’s hand close in your hair, pulling your head back, with a sudden jab of pain across your scalp. You look up to see Leah’s eyes snap open, and she lets out a desperate gasp as the heat from your mouth leaves her, her panties snapping back into place. Alexia tilts your head back to smile down at you, giving you a devilish wink that makes your heart flutter.

“Please,” Leah sighs, as if in pain, and Alexia hushes her tenderly.

“Not yet, darling,” she says, and she turns Leah’s face towards hers again before continuing, looking straight into her eyes, “Now turn over.”

You notice she uses a different voice with Leah than the one she uses with you. Alexia is sweet, careful even, treating Leah as if she’s fragile. You can’t wait for her to notice what a pervert she really is.

Alexia lets go of your hair, shooting you another knowing glance, as Leah obediently turns over in her lap. You can almost hear her heart pound against Alexia’s thigh as she bends over it, her face pressed down into the couch’s seat, her ass placed before you between Alexia’s knees, her lace panties barely covering her buttocks.

You’re still kneeling on the floor before them, wetting your lips with your tongue as you watch Alexia pull Leah’s panties down over the curve of her perfect ass, leaving a trace of glistening wetness down the insides of her thighs. Her pussy is exposed, not many inches away from your face and you hear Leah whimper into the seat as Alexia laughs.

“I’ll be gentle with you,” Alexia says, stroking the back of Leah's thighs.

You sit back on your heels, wincing at the pressure against your punished ass.

“Don’t be,” you scoff, immediately feeling blood rush to your face, heating your cheeks as you realize you want Alexia to go hard on Leah. Because you want to see it for your own pleasure.

But Alexia is on to you, and with one hand resting on Leah’s backside she points at you with the other.

“You watch it,” Alexia says. “I’m already adding lashes to your next session.”

A twitch of pleasure between your thighs. An impulse to giggle, but you shut yourself up, giving Alexia a sly grin that she returns with a stern look. And Alexia turns back to Leah. She says her name again, and both of you shiver.

“Sweet Leah,” Alexia says, squeezing one of her buttocks hard, making Leah suck in her breath, “This is what you came here for, isn’t it?”

Leah makes a muffled sound, not quite a whimper, not quite a moan. Suddenly, Alexia raises her hand and lets it crash down on the side of Leah’s ass. The sharp slap makes you gasp, and Leah cries out with surprise. You’re amazed to see the redness already spreading on Leah’s skin.

“Isn’t it?” Alexia asks again, her voice cold but shaped by a smile.

“Yes,” Leah moans, lifting her blushing face from the couch cushion. You see her tremble in Alexia’s embrace and you see her wetness glisten beneath her buttocks.

And Alexia hums softly, as if in agreement, and you stare in wonder at the scene before you as Alexia begins to spank Leah, each slap sending a jolt of excitement through your body. Alexia is definitely not gentle with Leah, you think, as Leah squirms across her lap, calling out in marvel and pain. When a couple of stern blows land on the same spot, thoroughly reddening it, and Leah starts to kick her legs, you reach out to grab her ankles, keeping her in place. At this, Alexia shoots you a crooked smile, a playful glance that makes you want to giggle again.

Leah lets out a long moan, but she stills in your grip, taking the rest of her spanking without protest, letting out only soft, sweet whimpers. Alexia’s smile widens, and you watch them together, wide-eyed. Something sinks in your chest then: a realization. A warmth settles. And it’s like you’re in love. After another couple of slaps the punishment starts to subside. Leah breathes heavily into the seat, wetting it with her breath, and as she turns her head to the side to look at you, strands of her hair are stuck to her forehead. She looks dizzy, your eyes lock, and she smiles sleepily, as if she’s happy to find you there. And it’s like you’re in love.

Alexia’s hand softens against Leah’s skin, stroking it and she slips it down between her thighs to cup Leah’s pussy from behind, trying the wetness gathered there.

“So it wasn’t so bad after all?” Alexia purrs, and you laugh as Leah arches her back.

You see her clench her fists, digging her nails into her palms as Alexia’s fingers play with her. You can almost feel both their movements.

“No,” Leah pants, her voice trembling. “Not bad at all.”

Then Alexia’s free hand reaches up, crashing down in another merciless smack across Leah’s right buttock.

“You need more?” Alexia asks, smacking Leah’s ass again while leaving her other hand on her throbbing pussy.

“No!” Leah moans, cringing away from the slaps but arching her back further, pleading with her whole body. “I mean, I want more, I just, I want…”

Alexia stills again, looking down at the girl in her lap as if pondering what to do with her, and you think you feel Leah’s need, like a hunger in your every vein and muscle, the need to get fucked, hard, now.

Alexia looks at you and it’s like she looks straight into your mind through your eyes.

“There’s a strap in the bureau,” Alexia says.

And Leah lets out a loud sigh, a small whimper, “Thank you.”

You and Alexia both laugh. Alexia rubs Leah’s punished skin, and gives you a nod towards the bureau that you only minutes ago stood bent over. You jump to your feet, feeling your wetness move between your legs, and you hurry over to get the strap from one of the drawers. You pull them out at random, and your heart flutters again when you spot your pink paddle in one of them. Resting on folds of pink velvet.

While walking back to the couch, you step into the strap-on harness, relieved to have already mastered the art of fastening it around your hips as Alexia watches you, lips slightly parted. It looks like she doesn’t recognize you. It feels good; a triumphant little smile tickles your lips.

The dildo is already in place in the harness’ metal ring, and when you look down you realize it’s larger than the one you and Leah have played with. You approach the pair on the couch, while Alexia seems to feast on the sight of you, and Leah’s trying to look back at you past her shoulder. Lying over Alexia’s thigh, her ass looks as if it’s offered up to you, a trembling sacrifice, buttocks a smoldering red. Her wet, desperate pussy waiting.

Alexia holds Leah’s thighs apart, and as you lean down to position yourself behind Leah, the heat from their bodies, their mixed scents, envelop you. The dildo’s head reaches Leah’s pussy. She whimpers impatiently and you, surprising yourself, moan out loud. You move your hips and fill Leah, slowly. With your many hands—yours and Alexia’s—both hold Leah in place, her legs spread wide, as you start to thrust into her, fucking her into Alexia’s lap. The couch creaks beneath you all, and you all breathe together. Leah letting out a moan after a muffled moan into the cushion. All the while arching her back, letting you in deeper.

You feel Alexia’s hand grab your hair again then, turning your head roughly, crushing your lips with hers. You both kiss hungrily, panting into each other’s mouths, bodies swaying with the movement of fucking. When Alexia lets go, you’re gasping for air. Alexia leans down to speak hotly to Leah.

“Do you like that?” Alexia asks, a hiss almost, sizzling.

And Leah nods wildly into the couch cushion, her moans wet with saliva, her voice high. Alexia looks up to lock her gaze on yours, ordering, “Deeper.”

Alexia’s eyes shine. Hesitantly at first, you push deeper into Leah, lengthening your movements, hearing her cry out as she is crushed down into the seat.

“Like that?” Alexia asks Leah, voice hot and hard, and Leah nods even wilder. Alexia keeps instructing, “Faster.”

You obey, your moans breaking into grunts, sweat breaking out over your body in shivers, and Alexia kisses you again, choking your voice while you pump into Leah.

Panting against your lips, Alexia commands, “Harder.”

And you thrust harder and Leah squirms beneath you, desperately gripping the edge of the couch, muffling her cries. Alexia and you fuck her together. Deep, fast, hard. Your head swims with the movements, your breasts swaying, your hair whipping across your face and sticking to the sweat on your forehead.

When you hear Leah come, loudly, so do you. You can’t tell if you’re coming from your own thighs rubbing together, the base of the dildo thrusting against you, or the ecstasy in Leah’s voice when she cries out as you fuck her, as you hurt and pleasure her.

Your orgasm is long and intense, pulsating as you slow your movements. You’re panting, sweat glistens on Leah’s back. Finally, you pull out of her, and you both sigh together. Alexia pulls you down onto the couch, starting to unfasten the strap-on harness from your hips, and you and Leah lay moaning across her lap, in and out of sync with each other, as the waves of the orgasm keeps crashing.

Alexia moans with you, a comforting sound, a wordless “good girl.”

You’re trembling in Alexia’s arms, holding Leah in yours and you feel like you’re in love.

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