#Private English Language Course

[artdivin]

[clioerato]

The Language of Steve Harrington’s Feelings

After everything — the underground base, the torture, the screaming, the bloody teeth, another concussion, and that awful, bleach-heavy smell that lingered in memory — Steve started learning Russian. Just… because. Because when you survive torture, when no one understands the words you’re screaming, you simply want to be able to speak.

And to be understood. Or not understood — that too.

He studied from old textbooks. Ordered cassettes and grammar guides, repeating harsh, growling words until they turned into honey and milk on his tongue. He scribbled awkward letters that, over time, became a graceful Cyrillic flow.

Steve didn’t tell anyone. Not Robin, not Nancy, not even Dustin. There weren’t any Russian language experts in Hawkins, and no real reason to speak it, so it was easy to keep his little hobby tucked away at home. He didn’t even use the local library — just occasionally bought books with his father’s money. (He secretly hoped some government official would start wondering why John Harrington suddenly took an interest in the USSR. But that, of course, belonged more to the realm of unlikely fantasies.)

Two years passed, and it became a habit.

He’d start thinking in Russian when he wanted to hide from his own thoughts. And speaking it — quietly, when no one was around. Or even when they were, but couldn’t understand.

One day he saw Nancy and Jonathan in the park. They were laughing. Holding hands. Jonathan had that rare look of confidence on his face, and Nancy… she had a softness in her smile, a gentleness in her eyes. Their happiness scorched Steve with quiet bitterness. He didn’t love Nancy anymore — not in that way — and he loved Jonathan, if anything, like a friend. But his feelings almost lifted its heavy head and made him whisper:

"Я завидую тебе. Мне до сих пор больно из-за того, что ты сделала тогда со мной на вечеринке" (“I envy you. It still hurts, what you did to me at that party.”)

And no one understood. And that was… a relief.

From then on, Russian became his emotional purge. He’d whisper, "Если бы ты только знал, как я устал" (“If only you knew how tired I am,”) when Mike begged for a ride even after two shifts and three sleepless nights. Of course, Steve would still pick him up. He’d mutter "Придурок" (“dumb-ass”) in Russian to particularly rude customers at Family Video and smile broadly when Robin wasn’t on shift. His father, in the private corridors of Steve’s thoughts, was officially renamed “Сэр мудозвон” ("Sir fuck-nugget") Russian swearing hit just as hard as drugs.

And then… there was Eddie.

Eddie became something like a permanent hallucination. Always there. Loud, alive, real. And that… was dangerous.

Steve, who had long stopped feeling in English, stumbled one day in a Russian-English dictionary on the word "любовь" (love), and froze.

Nothing changed in the way he behaved, but his vocabulary shifted.

Sometimes, when Eddie sat beside him, loudly sipping soda, feet kicked up on the table, calling Steve pretty boy, Steve would turn away and whisper:

“Отвяжись, я тебя умоляю!

Вечер страшен, гул жизни затих.

Я беспомощен. Я умираю

от слепых наплываний твоих.” (Набоков)

(“Leave me alone, I’m begging you. The night is terrifying, the hum of life is still. I’m helpless. I am dying from your blind surging will.” (Nabokov))*

Or he’d murmur:

"Я бы хотел, чтобы ты знал" (“I wish you knew.”)

It all came out by accident.

Summer. A quiet evening. The Party threw a backyard bash — barbecue, lemonade, beer for the grown-ups, sunscreen in the air, fireflies. Everyone had gone. Nancy and Robin, freshly licensed, had dropped the kids off. Only Steve, Eddie, and Hopper remained — the latter fiddling with the Jeep, not in any hurry.

Steve was tired — the kids had been extra energetic, and sleep had been a stranger lately. Slightly drunk, which was rare, but Hopper had promised them a ride home. Disheveled.

He watched Eddie walk toward the woods with his guitar, and without thinking, not even loud enough to be heard, he said:

"Я люблю тебя. Ты же никогда не узнаешь, да?" (“I love you. You’ll never know, will you?”)

Nothing happened.

The world didn’t explode. No cicadas stopped singing.Hopper sighed, slammed the hood of the Jeep, and called them over.

Nothing happened. But before he dropped Steve off, Hopper said quietly:

"Знаешь, парень… ему ты можешь это сказать и на английском." (“You know, kid… you could tell him. In English.”)

Steve froze. Turned his head. Hopper was looking at him — not judging, just calm. Understanding.

Steve lowered his gaze.

“I didn’t want anyone to know. It’s easier that way. I… didn’t think you knew Russian.”

“You’re not the only one who had a wild time back in ‘84,” Hopper replied with a shrug. “I don’t know much — just the basics. But "Привет" (‘hello,’) "Пока" (‘goodbye,’) "Сдавайся!" (‘give up the fight’) and "Я люблю тебя" (‘I love you’) I can still recognize. And listen, Steve… that’s your choice. But him? You can definitely tell him.”

Steve nodded. Said nothing. Just turned away.

Hopper watches them for another month. He doesn’t look at Steve—Steve is already clear to him. He watches Eddie. Watches how Eddie smiles only at Steve. How he jokes a little too nervously, as if afraid of how Steve might react. How he leans toward Steve more than toward anyone else.

That’s all Hopper needs. One day, he catches Eddie by the trailer park and hands him a battered book, a creased notebook filled with scribbled notes, and a worn-out cassette tape.

"Hopper? What’s this?" Eddie asks, uncertain, not quite sure how to deal with the former sheriff without a bunch of kids around.

"You’ll find out if you want to find out," Hopper says simply and turns to leave.

Eddie stands in the doorway, holding a Russian language textbook.

—

The next time Steve says " Я люблю тебя" (“I love you”) they’re sitting in his backyard. Summer is in full bloom, and the world feels quiet for once—no monsters, no missions, no kids who need constant supervision. Just sunlight and the sound of cicadas.

Eddie is covered with drop of water and tattoos, halfway through a story about the one inked on his chest.

Steve says it in a whisper “Я люблю тебя.” ("I love you") Soft. Natural. Because he’s used to thinking in Russian when the feelings are too big for English.

He doesn’t even notice the shift at first— Not until Eddie’s face flickers, like something fragile just cracked. Steve’s heart skips. Panic bubbles up. Then— A push to the chest, sudden and strong. Followed by a kiss. Desperate. Breath-stealing. So intense Steve forgets how to breathe.

"...what?" Steve whispers, dazed, still not quite caught up.

"Harrington, you’re a damn mystery." Eddie’s voice is hoarse, a little wild.

"Я люблю тебя тоже" ("I love you too.")**

*It's not really a love poem and damn me, I shouldn't be translating Nabokov. Sorry. **It would be more correct to say "Я тоже тебя люблю" (like “I too love you”), but let's assume that Eddie uses the correct words, but puts the words as in English grammar.

*** It started as the language of pain and ended as the language of love because Steve deserves it.

[fear-is-truth]

† 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — charlie mayhew x f!reader. | mdni

tags: mature content・mentions of religion・angst・flashbacks of smut・fem!reader・self-inflicted flagellation・blood・not proofread / wc: 1158

⟡ a/n: sorry if there are any grammatical errors or mistakes. english is not my first language

father charlie mayhew sat on the edge of his narrow bed, the white walls of his private chamber closing in around him. the small space was sparse, almost ascetic, with only a few religious artifacts cluttering the windowsill. the emptiness mirrored the discipline he tried to embody—from the polished metal sink in the corner to the stiff, neatly made bed beneath him. everything in his life was governed by order, by control—everything except you.

he glanced toward the tiny window where rain trickled down the glass, his chest tightening with a dull throb. leaning forward, he buried his face in his hands, fingers pressing into his temples as if he could will you away like a migraine.

but you were always there.

your fingers clawed at the buttons on his collar, desperate and needy—tugging him closer as he struggled to cling to any vestige of control he possessed. plushy lips brushed the edge of his neck, and he could hear the slight tremor in your breathing. “charlie,” you pleaded. not “father” this time. you had stripped him of that sacred title, and reduced him to a man in your arms—a sinner. your body pressed against him, warmth seeped through the fabric of his robes into his bones, hands traveling down the line of his chest, and it was at that point when he realised… he didn’t give a damn about sin or salvation.

rising to his feet, he stripped off his cassock, letting it slip past his shoulders before pooling on the floor. cool air bit against his skin, the bruises and scars on his back crisscrossed the pale skin in a web of guilt. charlie didn’t dare look in the mirror, couldn’t stand to see the evidence of his weakness. instead he knelt down and stared at the cat o’ nine tails resting on the bed before him, its nine strands splayed like serpents awaiting to strike. the handle was a rough wooden club, and as he gripped it tightly, his fingers brushed the frayed ends of the ropes, already darkened with blood and sweat from last night’s penance. he rearranged the nine strands carefully, spreading them out methodically before each lash.

he began to ease himself inside you, the tightness and warmth making him groan into the crook of your neck. he paused briefly, allowing you to place your hands on his shoulders, before fully sheathing himself, dragging out a broken moan from your lips. then he curled an arm around your waist, slowly withdrawing his hips, before thrusting inside you again.

he slammed the whip across his back, the sharp crack echoing through the small room. the nine strands bit into his skin like the nails that had once driven into his saviour’s flesh. pain was instantaneous, cutting through the haze of memory. he sucked in a breath as the second strike followed, then a third.

the heat of your skin burned under his fingertips, the sheets had tangled around your legs in a twisted mess of linen and heat, as you arched beneath him, crying out his name—charlie—over and over, like a prayer. his hand tightened on your waist, guiding your hips against his, guilt warring with the heady pleasure that coursed through him with every deep thrust. he pressed you into the mattress, lips tracing the column of your throat as your thighs clenched around his waist.

charlie’s grip faltered, his body hunching forward as he gasped for air. he could feel blood dripping down his back, onto the floor, but he didn’t care. he deserved this. he needed this.

the punishment was supposed to cleanse him. it was supposed to scourge away the sin. (it never worked, not really.)

he laid the whip down, trembling as he reached out to rearrange the strands, spreading them evenly across the bed before lifting it again. his hands shook as he braced himself for the next blow, muscles tensing as if to ward off the pain he knew was coming.

“don’t stop,” you begged, voice cracking as his body moved against yours, the sudden clench of your walls leaving him dizzy. the sheets were a tangled mess, your hands clutching at them. but it hadn’t been the sheets you clung to in the end—it had been him.

with a swift motion, he brought the whip down again. the impact sent a shockwave of agony through his body, his knees buckling slightly under the force. a guttural sob tore through his chest. fresh welts overlapped the scars from the previous nights, the pain melding together into one throbbing, pulsing reminder of his weakness.

(charlie mayhew was a weak, pathetic man.)

“you’re so beautiful,” you murmured as your nails scraped along his back, leaving faint red marks in their wake. his hips rutted into yours with a rhythm that had made him forget who he was. hand slid beneath the sheets, fingers digging into your flesh before he buried himself deep inside you. you let out a strangled moan, biting down on your lip as your eyes fluttered shut in pleasure, and it took everything in him not to cry out in response, to keep his own sinful need locked behind his clenched teeth.

the pain was nearly unbearable now, his skin raw and bleeding from the repeated lashes. but still, he struck again, his eyes squeezing shut against the images of you.

(the memory of you writhing beneath him, the sheets twisted around your bodies as his hips rolled into yours, was burned into his soul.)

agony built to a crescendo, the sharp sting of the rope tearing at his flesh, but it still wasn’t enough. it was never enough. chest heaving, he let the whip fall from his hands and clutched the edge of the bed for support. his back was a mess of blood, bruises and torn skin, but the pain in his back was a dull throb compared to the ache in his chest.

you had told him, in the quiet of your shared sin, that you loved him. he hadn’t responded. he couldn’t. because if he had said it back, it would have made everything worse. he couldn’t love you—not the way you wanted him to. not the way he already did.

charlie ran a hand through his hair, slick with sweat, staring blankly at the white walls that had seen too many nights like this one.

he didn’t know how many more nights like this he could endure. how many more times he could sit on the edge of his bed, flogging himself for the pleasure he found in your arms. how many more lashes it would take to absolve him of the sin of loving you.

you were worth every drop of blood, every sting of the rope. you were his temptation, his punishment, and his salvation all at once. he would willingly suffer for you, again and again.

masterlist

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Los del Río - Macarena (Bayside Boys remix) 1995

"Macarena" is a song by Spanish pop duo Los del Río, originally recorded for their 1993 album A mí me gusta. During a private party celebration in Venezuela in 1992, a local flamenco teacher, Diana Patricia Cubillán Herrera, performed a dance for the guests, and Los del Río were pleasantly surprised by Cubillán's dance skills. Spontaneously, Antonio Romero Monge, one half of the Los del Río duo, recited the song's chorus-to-be on the spot, as an accolade to Cubillán: "¡Diana, dale a tu cuerpo alegría y cosas buenas!'" ("Give your body some joy, Diana"). When Monge wrote the song, he changed the name to Macarena, in honor of his daughter Esperanza Macarena.

In mid-1996, the song became a worldwide hit roughly one year after the Bayside Boys produced a remix of the song that added English lyrics, written by Carlos de Yarza. The Bayside Boys added a new dance beat with English-language lyrics sung originally by the studio singer Patty Alfaro. The remix includes a sample from the Yazoo track "Situation" — the laughter of Yazoo vocalist Alison Moyet. The chorus uses female vocal samples previously used by the Farm in their song "Higher and Higher (Remix)" from their album, Spartacus.

The Bayside Boys remix hit number 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 in August 1996 and remained at the top of the chart for fourteen weeks, becoming one of the longest runs atop the Hot 100 chart in history. It also topped the US Cash Box Top 100. Billboard ranked it as the number 1 song for 1996. In the UK the song peaked at number 2, kept off the number 1 spot by the huge popularity of the Spice Girls song "Wannabe". In Australia, it was the most successful song of 1996. "Macarena" remained popular through 1996, but by the beginning of 1997, its popularity had begun to diminish. The song stayed in the Hot 100 chart for 60 weeks, the longest reign among number 1 songs, only surpassed fifteen years later by Adele's "Rolling in the Deep". Its resurgence was aided by a dance craze that became a cultural phenomenon throughout the latter half of 1996 and early 1997. The song got the group ranked the "#1 Greatest One-Hit Wonder of All Time" by VH1 in 2002. In 2012, it was ranked number 7 on Billboard's All Time Top 100. It also ranked at number 7 on Billboard's All Time Latin Songs list. In 2023, Billboard ranked "Macarena" number 500 in their list of Best Pop Songs of All Time. By 1997, the song had sold 11 million copies. In a Peanuts comic strip from December 1, 1996, Snoopy is about to join Woodstock and an unnamed identical bird at a frozen-over birdbath for a hockey game, but they start off by doing the Macarena dance first before playing, much to his embarrassment.

When the music video for the Bayside Boys Remix was filmed, Mia Frye choreographed a greatly simplified version of the Macarena dance that already existed at the time. Frye and director Calvet drew inspiration from video footage from clubs in Mexico that showed large crowds of people dancing the original, more complex, Macarena. According to Los del Río, the dance originated from the interaction between the band and the audience at concerts. It started with some improvised arm movements from the singers during an instrumental part of the song. Some people in the audience then began to imitate similar dance moves. In the interplay between the band and the audience, an early form of Macarena dance gradually emerged over the course of several concerts because stories about the Macarena dance spread among the band's fans by word of mouth.

"Macarena" received a total of 87,7% yes votes!

[chiasaaa]

—i’ll be your model

itoshi sae x f! reader

summary: dating a fashion designer has its pros and cons the same way dating a famous football player has its own. however, sae realized that you haven’t used one particular pro yet in your three years of dating.

warning: english is not my first language. apologies for any grammatical or spelling errors.

— itoshi sae is the kind of man whom his lover could describe as selfless. contrary to popular opinion, getting to know sae proves that point pretty well. sae will always come to your beck and call. he will provide you things you both need and want without you having to ask. he will most definitely drop whatever it could be he’s doing if it meant tending to your requests.

it already nearly happened one time when you called thirty minutes before an important match, telling him that you need to go to your gynecologist for your yearly check-up. it wasn’t anything serious, but he meant every fibre of his being when he said he’s going to drive all the way back just to accompany you.

if it weren’t for you threatening to lock the doors of your home from him, he would have ditched the game altogether and leave billions of fans disappointed along with his team. it was a good thing he ended up with someone like you.

someday, the whole world will thank you for it.

call him a lovesick fool, but itoshi sae will always and forever be hopelessly in love with you. he doesn’t mind if you want to go to greece in three hours; he’d already booked the earliest flight there. it indeed happened when you both sat in your living room one valentine’s day and you joked about making spontaneous plans like flying out to greece just to have a moonlit dinner with the temple of artemis in view. sae hadn’t known you were joking because he fished his phone out quick to do whatever it is you kept blabbering on.

candlelit dinner? check.

romantic violin music? check.

private villa overlooking a beautiful view? check.

economy tickets? he booked first-class.

and of course, he had long prepared his gift and your five-flower bouquet. you weren’t one for big bouquets as you loved preserving them in frames, and so you requested that if he were to give you such, he will have to make do with only five main flowers.

doesn’t mean he can stop putting blind boxes in them, though. you’re quite the menace when it comes to it.

sae had continuously provided you all your wants and needs, yet the one thing he finally realized is that you never asked for any of it.

much like today, as you’re earnestly looking through portfolios of famous celebrities who proposed to be your brand’s model. you did think that it’s about time for you to expand your model pool (you’re in it for the money) and you searched high and low for the perfect person to adorn your new creations.

specifically, the men’s product line.

sae picks up one of the photos you have scattered on the countertop, realizing that it was none other than isagi yoichi.

“athletes are part of your options?” he asks, turning the page to you. you didn’t even bother looking up as you responded back.

“yep, i’m looking through other athletes i can reach out to as an endorser.”

weird. isn’t he an athlete?

why didn’t you ask him first?

sae sets his teacup down its designated saucer, breathing in and out shortly to prepare himself for yet another confrontation. he’s still in the process of being more honest with you, when it comes to how he feels about certain things happening within your relationship. sae always tries his very best for you, and that includes biting back his usually sharp tongue because he knows how sensitive you can get.

“i assume you have strict requirements in finding one?”

“not really. i just need to look for someone who i can say is the one for the job,” you finally look up, smiling tiredly, “the same way i saw it when i looked at you.”

he must be dying early because the way you said it might as well make him combust. his heart pounded against his rib violently, wondering what you meant behind such words.

you knew he had fallen in love with you since you kicked a ball straight to his head (accidentally), but when was this time you’ve known he’s the one with a simple gaze?

as heart-fluttering as it is to think about, it’s not the current matter at hand. he couldn’t help but frown a little at the realization that he wasn’t the first person you thought of when you wanted to have a celebrity model your work.

he’s pretty famous, isn’t he?

not only that, you have always been so vocal about how he’s so handsome that the model industry’s lucky he chose to play football as his career path. that has to account for something, right?

as a fashion designer, you have one of the most keen eyes when it comes to potential models.

you’ve seen it in him.

“what do you mean by that?”

“exactly as it means, querido.” you hum, already back to work. you take a pencil from the counter and used it to tie your hair effortlessly, a few strands falling to frame your beautiful face. if it wasn’t for the fact that this is a big deal to him, sae would have long been hypnotized by your beauty.

“why don’t you use me, then?” he said it in a way that showed how upset he actually is about the situation. you couldn’t have possible missed that, and you really didn’t. you look up from your work, hiking your specs right up your nose with the joint of your finger.

“what do you mean?”

“exactly as it means, hermosa.”

you snort. of course, sae used your own words against you. though, you couldn’t say that you didn’t expect that from him. sae is too selfless for his own good, and as his partner, you’re not about to let him sabotage himself with this ridiculous adventure of over-generosity. you didn’t even know it was a thing until you met him.

as much as you loved that he will sacrifice anything and everything for the people he cares for, you must admit that it bothers you a little. that is why you took control of what you can and avoided his involvement as much as possible.

“i can’t possibly do that to you.” was your response after a short while, propping an elbow on the granite to rest your chin upon the palm of your hand. you twist the stool you’re sitting on to face him, taking his hand with your free one. “i’m not about to use you for my own benefit, querido. i didn’t date you just to have your face on my brand and milk you.”

“but you’re not,” sae raises your locked hands, planting a gentle kiss on the back of your palm. “i want to do this for you. honestly, i’m a little upset that i wasn’t the first person you thought of.”

you chuckle. “didn’t you hear me earlier? i said i’m looking for someone who will make me think ‘he’s the one!’ the same way you made me think that.”

the confusion soon replaced by embarrassment in the form of tinted cheeks and reddening ear tips had you pause for a little.

“did you take that in the romantic context?” giggling, you lean closer to him and ruffled his hair. “you’re my blueprint right now as i searched through these files. i was looking for someone like you.”

then, as if there’s a sudden change in the wind, sae regained his confidence and fired back at you.

“there’s no one else like me.” he takes your chin between his fingers. “so use me, hermosa.”

and you gave in the same way you allowed him to kiss you long and deep, telling you in every way possible that he loves you even after the universe collapses.

itoshi sae is a selfless man, yet you didn’t know that he’s only ever like that when it comes to you.

it didn’t matter if it was spontaneous trips, ditching big games, or standing in front of the camera for you.

whatever it is, as long as it’s you, then he will do everything in his power to make it come true.

[eufezco]

THE MUSE

Benedict needs to practice female form. Naked female form. And who better to help him than his lifelong friend?

Benedict x fem!reader (smut with plot, friends to lovers) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!)

Benedict didn't know how to ask you.

You had been friends for a long time, your families were practically one. Always so united, your mamas took walks every afternoon, gossiping about the ton and your fathers had been friends since childhood. You and Benedict were bound to meet.

You and he grew up together. You were friends with his siblings, you had held sleepovers with his sisters and won cricket matches against his brothers. Lady Violet Bridgerton loved you like a daughter and your mother loved Benedict like a son.

But your friendship with him had always been special.

When you were twelve, you ran away together to camp on the riverbank, just because Benedict wanted to draw the moon reflecting in the water at night. The following year, despite the scolding you received for your river adventure, you and Benedict sneaked onto private land just to pluck a few petals from the summer sunflowers to get him the perfect shade of yellow.

You and Benedict were very close. Of course, there had always been rumors about what kind of relationship you two had and that Lady Whistledown had only added more fuel to the fire writing about you two in her pamphlets. You and him never cared about that, and neither your families but it was true that you two have had to face some uncomfortable conversations with them about it.

That's why Benedict didn't know how to ask you. You had a lot of trust in each other, you had always supported his artistic vocation but perhaps this was too much.

—Oh, thank God you've come. I am in need of a model —. It was the first thing Benedict said to you when you entered his studio. The maid closed the door behind you, leaving you alone with him. Thank goodness the Bridgertons' service was very discreet, if anyone found out that you and him were alone in a room it would cause quite a scandal.

—Good evening to you too, Benedict.

—My apologies. Good evening —. He leaned to kiss your cheek.— I need a model —. He let you know one more time.

—How have you been? Very stressed from what I can tell —. You tried to have a normal conversation with him before you paid attention to what he required.

—Indeed.

You sighed. —Well, what is it? I thought we were going for a walk.

He nodded. —We can go outside later. But I need to get this done by tomorrow and I feel like I'm losing my mind.

—And...?

—I need practice female form.

You slowly nodded. You were aware that Benedict had been recently attending this art academy, you were happy that he was finally able to pursue his passion and you couldn't deny that within the characteristic desperation of the artists, he looked very attractive. Benedict's hair was a mess, his white shirt was half-open, his sleeves were rolled up. He would never have allowed himself be seen in society like that and you were grateful because otherwise he would have all the girls after him.

—And you want me to...?

—Pose for me.

You weren't quite sure how to do it but it seemed easy and fun. All the times he had drawn you, he had done it when you were distracted, reading, having tea with his sisters... The pencil moved effortlessly across the paper when he saw you laughing with Daphne or playing with the cards that Colin had brought back from his trip to Spain. He was already too embarrassed to admit each time he drew you and Anthony teased him by saying that if he didn't propose to you, he would show you his drawings, and Benedict's heart skipped a beat because he knew that his older brother was not known for being a joker.

Benedict still didn't know how he was going to ask you, maybe it was better to just let it out.

—And what shall I do? Just stand here? Like this? —You laughed and made a dramatic pose like the ones you saw in the paintings in the gallery you visited together.

—I need you to ...

Benedict swallowed nervously. He looked down at your dress and then directly into your eyes. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to finish. You also looked at your dress to see if there was something wrong with it.

—Benedict I don't think I understand what you are trying to say—

—I need to practice naked female form.

Benedict immediately noticed your horrified face. He wanted to go back seconds ago when he hadn't even asked but if it wasn't you, who would it be? —I will not draw your face. No one will know it is you. It will be purely professional, I just need a few minutes.

You bit the inside of your cheeks and decided to trust him when he said that it would be for professional purposes only. The unfinished nude sketches that made your cheeks burn when you saw them as you entered his studio showed you that Benedict found no inspiration in the bodies of the academy models. After a nervous swallowing, you nodded and Benedict's face lit up. He hugged you but you didn't have time to hug him back because he quickly went to prepare the canvas.

—Is the door locked? —You asked him as you shed the little jacket that covered your shoulders along with your gloves. Benedict rushed off to lock it and before he returned to his position behind the canvas. You called his name and gulped, your hands failing in their attempts to unzip your own dress. —May I please get some help?

—Oh, yes, of course. My apologies.

Benedict stood behind you, his fingers brushing the skin on your back as he began to slowly unzip it until the dress slid down your body and fell at your feet. Benedict felt like he had to look away, as if in a few seconds you would not be completely exposed to his eyes. He offered you his hand to help you get up on a small pedestal that he had in his studio. Once you got rid of your underwear, you felt vulnerable but not as vulnerable as when Benedict ran his eyes over your body from his position and with the paintbrush already in his hand.

He let out all the air he had in his lungs, he couldn't take his eyes off you. Benedict could not deny that he had imagined it on many occasions, but reality far surpassed his imagination.

—What... What should I do, Benedict? —You hugged yourself.

—Put your arms down and stand like that. You look perfect, darling.

Your cheeks burned after that. You did as he said. His brow was slightly furrowed in concentration as his eyes went from the canvas to you and back to the canvas. Benedict asked you to turn around and he squeezed his eyes tightly after seeing your bare ass. Purely professional, this was purely professional, he had to remind himself.

Benedict grabbed a wooden chair and walked over to you. Your heart skipped a beat once he was so close to your naked body and he felt the exact same. He placed the chair next to you and invited you to sit on it. He nodded slowly when you did, focusing on the new position of your body. Benedict went back behind the canvas and made a few sketches.

He cleared his throat. —Would it be possible if you... Could you spread your legs?

Your cheeks grew hot and you squeezed your thighs together.

The knot you had in your stomach got tighter and you felt your chest rise and fall slowly thanks to your deep breathing. You straightened your back in the chair and you did as Benedict asked. You felt the air of the room caressing you in that warm and wet area and he held his breath, his chest puffing out as your legs slowly opened for him.

—You are beautiful, darling. Do not be ashamed —. Every new inch he discovered of your body made you look more perfect in his eyes. It was as nice to see you as it was to paint you.

Your cheeks grew even hotter but this time it wasn't just your cheeks, your whole body was in flames starting with the area between your legs that was so exposed to his eyes.

—Could we try another position?

You nodded, relieved, you were sure it was painfully obvious the way you had gotten wet and you just hoped he was busy enough to not notice.

He dropped the paintbrush and got up from the stool on which he was sitting. Benedict felt the knot in his stomach grow tighter with each step he took closer to your naked body. You moved in the chair out of nervousness. Benedict leaned slightly over you. —May I? —He asked before touching your leg. His voice made you shiver, he was so close, you felt his hand brush against the skin of your thigh. You nodded and looked up at him while he repositioned your leg. Benedict's eyes meet yours, so helpless, his lifelong friend, was that innocence in your eyes, or was that...?

Lust.

Your hand grabbed the back of Benedict's head and pressed his lips against yours. His eyes widened in surprise but immediately after, his hands went to cup your cheeks as he fell to his knees in front of you. You opened your legs so he could place himself between them and be closer to you. The shameless hands of your friend traveled down your neck until they reached your breasts. You moaned against his mouth once he gave them a gentle squeeze, the soft palm of his hand brushing against your nipples.

Benedict left a trail of soft kisses from your cheeks to your collarbones and your breasts. He took one in his mouth as his hand played with the other, his tongue moving in circles around your nipple and sucking on it at the same time. Your breathing quickened and your lips parted to let out soft moans when Benedict's teeth brushed your sensitive nipple.

He let go with a pop sound and watched you gasp for air. Benedict placed his hands on the inside of your thighs and caressed your skin there before he slowly pushed them to open even further. His hands prepared you for him, his eyes asked for your permission. You nodded and Benedict flashed you a smile, that was all he needed. He peppered your thighs with kisses, taking small bites and kissing your sore skin afterwards. Your breathing deepened as his mouth got closer to where you needed him the most. He was so close he could smell you and oh Lord, his dick got hard as a rock at that moment.

You took a sharp breath when he licked from your entrance to your clit and savored your juices in his mouth. The image was completely sinful, his blue eyes were locked on you while his lips sucked on your bundle of nerves, his hands forced your legs to stay open for him. Your head was thrown back, your mouth was open in a perfect "O" form, your fingers digging into his scalp. Once he noticed the desperation in the way your hips rolled against his mouth, two of his fingers entered you easily. You stifled a loud moan, throwing a hand over your mouth.

Benedict hummed, sending vibrations to your clit.

—Talk to me. How does this feel? —He required.

—So good. It feels... —You bit down your lower lip, his fingers sank deeper. —It feels like heaven.

He was satisfied with your answer.

Benedict fucked you with his fingers until you had to grab his wrist to get him to stop, it was too much. Your legs closed around his head but his lips were still attached to your clit and he didn't stop until he heard how your moans turned into whines and cries, not until he noticed how your back arched off the chair and your chest rose and fell uncontrolled thanks to your panting. Benedict didn't stop, not until he felt how your pussy was clenching so hard that almost pushed his fingers out of you and he heard you moan his name one last time as your grip on his hair tightened.

He gave you all the time you needed to catch your breath, kissing your legs and intertwining his fingers with yours while you came down from your high. Benedict's blue eyes were locked on you making every effort to later recall every single part of you.

—How are you feeling, darling? —Benedict stood on his feet and held your hands so that you would stand up as well. Before you could answer his question, you both realized how your legs were shaking and laughed. At the same time, you felt Benedict's grip on your hands grow stronger to keep you from falling.

Benedict leaned in and kissed your lips in the sweetest possible way. The tickling sensation in your body that you felt when you were naked in front of him had turned into a different kind of tickling, now focused on your stomach. It was so familiar, you had felt it so many times when you looked at him but now, with his lips on yours and his hands treating you with so much affection and care, it was different.

You could confirm that it was not only lust but also love.

You hummed against his lips. —Wait, did you finish your drawing?

Benedict shook his head. —But, please, do not worry about that. I will help you get dressed —. You frowned confused and he gave a quick kiss to your lips so, as he had told you, you would not worry. —I can finish later. There's no way I'm forgetting your body, my dear.

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

✧ All the graces from Heaven

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: Arthur and you enjoy a steamy morning at Strawberry's Hotel, much to the outlaw's delight. ✦ Warnings: SMUT 18+, MDNI! Oral (both reader and Arthur receiving), 69, a bit of fluff if you squint, porn without a plot, Arthur is more of a high/mid honor but loses it and gets a little bit rough, established relationship. ✦ Words: 2,6k ✦ a/n: Yeeeaah so. This is basically a 69 fic, it's pretty filthy and a bit less figurative than my usual works. Just pure smutty smut. I hope you'll enjoy it still! Pic is mine, not proofread! And as English isn't my first language, prepare for some misspellings.

The bedroom of Strawberry’s Hotel is filled with chuckles, and full of scattered clothes on the floor. Leathered boots, two shirts tangled together, jackets and holster belts thrown away messily on furniture. As a lighthouse in the middle of the sea, a black gambler hat stands tall hung on one of the bed's huge footboard legs over this tide of abandoned clothing.

Above it, the old wood creaks as two people mess with each other under the blankets, threatening to make the worn hat fall from its perch. Both are nude as the day they were born, and glued to each other as if they were wearing the other one’s skin.

You and Arthur had quite a time, last night. And since you had woken up, it was nothing but sweet words, cuddling and tickling. Teasing each other had become a private religion between you both, his sarcastic comments always met with a witty answer from you. It made him love you even more.

“Come on darlin’, stay.” Arthur’s deep voice asks you, as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, his nose impregnating with your smell, eyes closing on their own.

He feels good, there. It's in these simple shared moments, those laughs you sew together, those fingers and body you intertwine, those deep and dreamy conversations about your brighter future you share that Arthur finds his remedy. As if after all this life of surviving and fighting for a greater cause, a bigger picture, it was the simplest of things that appeared like an epiphany to him when it came to happiness.

You being the main source and Messiah of most of these humble pleasures, of course. His personal angel.

“You know I can’t. You may have the morning off for once, but I have somewhere else to be. Hosea needs me at the Tracker’s Hotel for a job.”

Arthur doesn’t hide his annoyance and grumbles against your skin, something about “Damn jobs always in the way” and “ The old man can wait a lil’ bit more.”

It makes you smile. As tempting as staying in bed all morning with a naked Arthur seems, especially considering how you can feel his fat cock feeling so soft against your hip, you feel self-conscious about leaving Hosea alone on your mission. You turn your head to the side to kiss your lover’s head, his sandy locks tickling your nose.

“Alright tough guy, time to go.” You decide before getting up in a sitting position, then crawling to the end of the bed to grab your ungarments.

“Not so fast, lil’ missy.” He objects with a low chuckle, obviously enjoying this little chase after you.

Before you can reach your aim, Arthur snakes his hands around your thighs and pulls you back to him in a quick and powerful motion, handling you as if you were the lightest feather, which makes you let out a squeal of protest mixed with surprise.

His laugh resonates for a second and then, he freezes. You had ended up on all four on top of him, but usually, your face was turned to his. This time, Arthur's nose is met with your plump rear, your chest to the other side, just above his crotch. You can feel his body, underneath you, getting tensed. This gigantic, massive, muscled body, so big and tall that his chest feels larger than a tree trunk between your spread legs. What was innocent playing for him just seconds ago had turned into a needy tension between the both of you. The air suddenly feels thick and a silence settles, a tense calm on the shore before a Maelstrom.

Your blouse and Hosea are a long time gone when you realize you can feel his breath on your pussy, the sensation making you shiver. You try to get up from the position, thinking he wouldn’t like to have his face shoved in your intimate parts, but his hands grip tighter and stop you, grounding you in place. You turn your head to him as much as you can considering your situation, taking an interrogative look at his face above your body.

His cheeks are red. Dark red. His eyes are fixated on your entrance, throat swallowing with difficulty. His bust rises and falls heavily, pectorals muscles swelling up before relaxing and rising again. He sighs, and you feel it again, hot air all against you, all against your now aroused and needy slit.

“We hum… We never tried like this…” He starts, voice low and suggestive about what he's implying, his hands traveling from your thighs to grab your ass, one hand for each cheek. They’re so big and firm, and feel so good there, as he squeezes, again and again, driving himself crazy as he admires how the perfect heart shape of your rear looks all squished under his fingers.

“You sure you want-”

Before you can even finish your sentence, Arthur answers it by pressing his lips to your pussy, exhaling through his nose and tightening his fingers on your flesh. This man always had such huge self-control for every dangerous situation known to mankind, but right now, it seems like he couldn’t resist taking a bite when having your perfect cunt under his nose…

A sharp and depraved noise leaves you, making his body burn like redden coal, his mind consumed more and more by your whole being and the simple feeling of your wetness all against his face. His whole universe reduced into this touch, lips against flesh, saliva mixing with arousal. Your sinful nectar and his.

“God, honey!” You whine, back arching without your permission, body moving backward to him, searching for more, needing more.

“Taste so goddamn good… Never gonna have enough of ‘this…” He rasps between a few more kisses to your folds, as a praise or a statement, you’re not sure, and he’s not either as words just flow through him and he lets them out without a drop of restraint or reflection. A rough, unstoppable river. That's how he feels every time he eats you out.

His tongue slowly slips out of his filthy mouth and licks your folds, slowly, tortuously, from bellow aaaall the way up to the inside of your ass. You could have been scared of not being clean enough for him or feeling nervous about his face almost buried in there, but the sound, the moan he had made suppresses all these anxious thoughts all at once.

You have to face the obvious: he’s loving it.

“Aah- Arthur…” Your hips roll against his face, desperate for some more friction, unsatisfied and so aroused by his teasing.

“You go on moanin’ ma name like that and am gonna come without ya even touchin’ me, darlin’.” He warns you, voice hoarse, lips mumbling against your folds, his beard and mustache tickling you just the right way.

You answer his words with a deep sigh, the filth of them burning you to the core. He laps at you the same way again, in one then two long and slow licks, as if savoring you like the finest whiskey he would have tasted. A mewl leaves your lips after each one of them. You’re starting to get impatient, and he knows it, he knows you after all those intimate moments. He stops his lips right at the entrance of your core and gently slides his right hand between your thighs.

The way he has to fold his arm to touch you there isn’t comfortable for him, his bicep being way too big to be crushed like that; but hearing you, feeling your thighs clenching and the appreciative words you let out when his fingers land on your sensitive bud is worth this slight pain. Always putting other’s needs before his own, always being devoted and loyal, always finding happiness in being useful, that was Arthur’s nature. And the bed was no exception to it.

“Was you not supposed to go somewhere?” He asks cockily in a falsely innocent tone, brimming with sarcasm and smugness.

“P-please, Arthur… Quit the teasing, for God's sake…” You ask, trying not to sound too pitiful, probably failing at it.

“A lil’ needy after all, ain’t ya? Ma sweet girl…” He coos, and you can feel his lips stretch into his usual grin, his heart gorging with pride and excitement to have this sort of impact on you.

Bending to your wishes, his fingers start to rub and trace tight circles on your clit as his mouth makes love to your pussy, his tongue delving in as deeply as he can, and the pleasure finally hits you like an earthquake. It feels so good, so damn good, your breathing quickly turning into loud moans.

Your head snaps back forward, and your body pushes your rear up all against him as a cat who would stretch after a nap. Arthur hums in delight and appreciation, unable to speak but encouraging you still. He increases his pace, his digits quick and sharp and so precise against your sensitive spot.

Your face falls down as every fiber of your body hardens, and that’s when your gaze is caught on his cock. Your pussy clenches hard around his tongue just by the sight of it.

It looks so hard and swollen that it must be painful for him. His hips buck forward into nothing, his member almost hitting your chin, with every lick of his tongue inside you. His round and reddish tip is leaking, pre-cum spurting out even more than usual, flowing all the way down into his dark curly pubic hair. His pants would have been completely soaked if he was wearing them.

You're salivating.

It would have been cruel to let him like this, right?

Focusing on him to try and not collapse from your own pleasure, you suddenly press your chest against his belly and take his cock inside your mouth without any warning. The taste of him, this strong saline flavor, fills your mouth.

“Damn!” Arthur shouts in surprise, momentarily parting his lips from yours, fingers slowing their pace. “Jesus, girl!”

This time, it’s your turn to grin, as much as you can, considering how big Arthur is between your lips. You don’t let him any time to think or protest, knowing he would insist that you’d come first.

The way you're crawling on top of him makes it even simpler for you to suck him off, your head naturally placed at the right angle on top of his crotch, and you take advantage of that. Finding support on the mattress with your arms, hands gripping his legs, you bring your mouth up and down hard and fast, sucking his shaft with such vigor you can feel his body squirming underneath you.

“Ngh-! Darlin’! S-stop, slow down! I ain’t gonna last like this!” He tries to plead but his words are drowned in a flood of groans and harsh sighs.

Despite what he’s saying, his body acts in the exact opposite way, hips jerking, cock shoving into your throat at the same time you’re working him. He tries, he really tries to keep on pleasuring you back while you work him, but he feels like he’s completely losing himself, unable to do anything else, to focus on anything else at all.

Your breasts pressed against his belly, his face buried in your pussy and ass, each of your thighs surrounding his head, and your goddamn mouth around his cock, this devilish tongue sliding all around it… He's completely losing his head. It's like being drowned in an Ocean of You. It’s too much. It’s way too much at once for a simple man. A simple, weak, mortal man feeling like he’s receiving every grace of Heaven all at the same time.

His basic instincts win the best of him. His arms are now wrapped around you, pulling you flush against his body, a hand back on your ass cheek, the other on your neck, spurring you into moving your mouth just like he needs to.

“Oh, shit! Yes, go on, go on, take it!”

You've rarely seen him losing his temper like this. He's usually gentle and soft, patient with you during sex, savoring the moment, making it last as much as possible, playing you like an Andante movement from the most sophisticated piece of a symphony.

Right now, he's unchained and rough, rushing to the Grand Finale without minding about false notes, drunk from you and the sensation of warmth he is feeling on every edge of his body; face, chest, cock, every inch of him merging with every inch of you.

He groans all against your pussy, as your saliva drools from this erratic pace. His fingers grip your head and ass tighter as he chases his high carelessly, already coming, way too soon and fast for him. His cock stiffens even more as he fucks your silky mouth, veins gorging with blood, tip throbbing in the back of your head.

“Aaah- Damn… Good… Girl!” He growls loudly with a thrust of his hips after each word.

The last one is followed by a loud and throaty whine, higher-pitched and vulgar, the kind of sounds he would usually let out when being hurt.

He shuts his eyes in a pleasured-filled frown as he pushes his face even deeper between your legs and, more from instinct than anything else, sucks hard on your cunt while he comes, lost, so lost in a sea of primal bliss and pure organic pleasure. His large body burns and tenses one hard final time, and you can feel the path of his cum traveling along his length against your lips as he releases inside you.

It fills you, his saline and strong taste blinding your other senses, cum as hot and sinful as his state, and you exhale with satisfaction as you swallow both this remnant of his ecstasy and the last drops of his sanity.

Arthur falls back heavily on the mattress, completely spent, his sweat staining the white sheets, his hands loosening their grip. Before removing them from your body, he allows himself a playful little spank on your butt as he speaks again, a revenge not strong enough to his liking for your sneaky move.

“Jesus, you’re… completely wild...” He sighs, his heart slowing after having beaten like war drums.

He’s still panting, mouth open and covered with a mix of this sweet cocktail of saliva and arousal. He licks his lips, feeling so satisfied, the sensation of your body everywhere on his skin still vivid and present. Like a stamp of black, indelible ink that has left its mark on a blank sheet of paper.

“You really enjoyed all this, didn’t you?” You ask back while getting off him, legs a bit shaky, your throat starting to feel a bit sore from the intensity you had chosen to go with. “I haven’t heard you whine like this for a long time…”

“I don’t “whine”.” He scoffs, knowing damn well he did, and suddenly feeling ashamed of the sounds he had made and guilty for the rough behavior he had displayed. His negative feelings are soon brushed off though, thanks to your beautiful and mischievous smile enlightening him.

“Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that. I’ve still got ears to hear, Mister.”

“Hush. Now come here, 'gonna make ya feel as good and miserable as me from finishin’ that fast.”

His eyes burn with that fire he has. The one reserved for you and the excitement and adrenaline of action. You already know there's no way you'll walk out of this bedroom without being completely satisfied.

“Tonight. I’m already way too late to-”

“Now.”

The piece of clothes remains abandoned on the floor as the bed creaks again, that old gambler's hat only witness of Arthur's payback to you.

After all, he never liked leaving a job unfinished.

--

tagging some people who were interested in the scenario! : @amyispxnk @a-court-of-valkyries @fleouris

[choerypetal]

Mother Figure | Batfamily. Bruce Wayne x Reader

summary: Bruce offers you the promise he made a long time ago. To marry him and become his wife. Later he eventually adopts Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian and Barbara. All of a loving family, until one sibling in particular finally finds himself right at home. 

ps English isn't my first language, so i apologize for small errors.

How it started:

Dick was the very first to be adopted into the family, and Bruce took him under his wing almost immediately. At the time, you hesitated with the idea—it was a significant change, especially considering Bruce had never truly experienced a childhood himself. Not after witnessing both his parents death. 

On one night, just as you were about to make yourself something to eat, a sharp knock echoed from your front door. You called out, “Coming!” without thinking much of it—until you opened the door and found your childhood friend standing there. A soft gasp as soon as you met him at the door. “Bruce… Why so late?” 

Bruce looked worn down. His hair was damp, his clothes disheveled, and he hadn’t been sleeping—anyone could tell. He stepped inside without a word. The silence wasn’t unusual, but something about him that night made you more anxious than usual. You caught yourself gently chewing at your fingernails as you offered him a cup of hot coffee. He took it without protest and followed you to the living room.

You both sat in silence, the television murmuring in the background, while rain continued to pour steadily against the windows—Gotham’s lullaby.

You hadn’t realized how much silence it would take to finally notice the small, quiet details of life—until Bruce’s hand brushed gently against your leg. A sigh escaped him, heavy and worn. A part of you wanted to lean in, to hold him, but you chose instead to respect his space. “You remember when we used to talk about building a family someday?” he asked softly, his eyes fixed on the coffee mug cradled in his hands.

You gave a small nod.

“That if we were still single by our twenties, we’d… arrange a marriage.”

Your gaze met his then. Of course you remembered. It was just a few months ago, right before Christmas. The snow had been falling in thick, quiet sheets. You’d been a wreck—your partner of three years had left you without warning. You’d ended up at the gates of Wayne Manor, a mess of heartbreak and numbness, and Bruce had found you there. From that night on, he promised to protect you—from the world, from yourself, from whatever darkness came.

“Yes…” you said, your voice low. You remembered every word.

Even so, it had taken time for you to believe he truly meant it. But now, as he sat beside you, his touch lingering and his words hanging in the air, you understood.

Tonight, he did.

Then, without a word, Bruce slowly lowered one knee to the floor. His hand reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small box. Your breath caught the moment he opened it—a delicate, glimmering ring nestled inside, catching the light in the most breathtaking way.

You gasped, not just from shock, but from the sheer beauty of it. Words failed you. Both hands flew to your face as tears welled in your eyes, spilling over as you choked out a soft response—barely audible, but clear enough. You nodded, again and again, unable to stop yourself from smiling through the tears.

Bruce’s smile was gentle, full of quiet certainty. He took your hand with care, sliding the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly—of course it did. He had planned everything.

And in that moment, as he leaned in to kiss you, it felt like the beginning of the perfect marriage.

Becoming the Mother of the BatFamily: 

It wasn’t an easy life to step into. Being part of the Wayne legacy meant your relationship would never stay private for long. News would spread across Gotham in an instant, with journalists camping outside the manor, desperate for even the smallest detail. The attention was relentless. So much so that Bruce insisted you stay within the manor unless he said otherwise—his way of protecting you from any danger.

Surprisingly, you felt a strange relief in his caution. It allowed you to breathe, to settle into the rhythm of your new life—not just as Bruce’s wife, but as a soon-to-be mother. And in that quiet sanctuary, far from the flashing cameras and murmurs of the city, you finally began to embrace the peace you never thought possible.

Of course Bruce knew the Joker would taken a twisted interest in you. It was exactly the kind of danger he anticipated—which meant there was always someone from his team discreetly patrolling the manor grounds. Whether it was one of his own or some cutting-edge tech only Wayne Industries could produce, Bruce made sure every precaution was in place.

Letting the Joker get to you was never an option—not with everything else at stake. Not when he also had to protect Dick, Jason, Tim, Barbara, and Damian. You weren’t just his wife. You were part of the family now. And nothing in Gotham was more important to Bruce than keeping that family safe.

Out of all the kids, Dick took the quickest liking to you. Barbara followed not far behind, then Tim, Damian—and of course, Jason in his own way. But it was Dick who made the effort feel effortless. He’d often join you in the kitchen, cheerful and attentive, and every morning your lips curved into a soft smile when he was the first to rise for training with Bruce, only to wander in and quietly start helping you with the dishes.

“Let me help you,” he’d insist, already rolling up his sleeves.

You would open your mouth to gently decline��only to be cut off by the familiar warmth of Bruce’s arms wrapping around you from behind. A silent reminder that you weren’t alone anymore. You were his. 

Bruce’s firm arms wrapped around your waist as he leaned in, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. It was gestures like this—quiet, tender, and unspoken—that you cherished most about him. He wasn’t flashy, never one to boast or show off. But when he chose to be affectionate, he made sure there was no mistaking it.

“Geez... Love you, Mom,” Jason’s voice suddenly cut through the moment, catching you off guard. “But can you at least get a room?”

You let out a startled gasp, half laughing, while Bruce remained entirely unfazed. If anything, his grip tightened, and his teeth brushed teasingly against your skin, dangerously close to leaving a mark. You let out a soft whine, half protest, half thrill, and reached down to tap his hand.

“Bruce,” you warned gently. He groaned in reply, shaking his head like a stubborn child. “Jason’s grumpy all the time…” he muttered against your neck, refusing to let go.

“Well perhaps I am grumpy for a good reason!” Jason complains as he steals a warm pancake from the plate. “Mom is our mother you know? I know you like showing her off but damn. This early.” 

And then it clicked. Your eyes widened at the unfamiliar words Jason was suddenly using. Not just you, but everyone had never heard him speak like this—at least not until now. Tim couldn’t resist teasing his brother, “You’re going to make her cry,” he said, nudging Jason’s arm. He didn’t actually mean it, but the moment the words left his mouth, he felt guilty. Poor thing, just a naive boy, Tim thought, chuckling as he swiped a pancake from his sibling. Dick’s laughter echoed softly in the background.

Jason noticed, though. When your gaze lifted, now free from Bruce’s grip as you handed him a coffee, you leaned in to kiss his cheek, smiling softly. You mimicked Tim’s teasing tone, using the exact same words to nudge Jason further. On the other side, completely oblivious to the playful exchange, Bruce added, “Yeah, J. Be a little nicer to your mother.” You nudged your husband’s side gently before giving your arm a playful slap, chuckling as he did.

Jason groaned, his lips forming a soft, yet annoyed pout. “I wasn’t trying to be mean! I just said, 'get a room,' geez. If we can’t–” But before he could finish, you walked behind him, setting a plate of pancakes, eggs, and bacon beside him. You kissed his cheek, and now he was just plain confused. “It’s not that what you said wasn’t reasonable,” you said with a smile, “but rather the fact that you finally acknowledged the family.” Now it was his turn to blush. He looked around at everyone, all smiling at him, with Bruce nodding proudly in the background.

“And it only took him 22 years to finally call her 'mom,’” Bruce teased, though deep down, you understood why Jason had never said it before. After all these years, he was still that hurt boy, longing to find a family of his own, to be loved by both a father and a mother.

Jason looked back at you and Bruce, rolling his eyes but mirroring the same smile that made his words sound less convincing. “Yeah, yeah, I love her just as much as you do, jackass.” With that, everyone moved in to embrace him. A huff escaped his mouth, and he groaned, “Alright, alright! I love y’all. Can I get a little breather here?”

And even though there was a slight annoyance in his tone, it was the loving gazes of his parents and siblings that made him realize, for the first time, he truly felt at home.

[clara-a7]

Melbourne Summer

彡PAIRING ; Oscar Piastri x fem!reader

彡GENRE ; smut! 18+, romance, fluff

彡RESQUESTED? ; No~ (requests are open!)

彡WORD COUNT ; 1,1k

彡DISCLAIMER ; Everything written here is FICTITIOUS. This story is written in second-person point of view and the reader is a female

A/N ; Sorry if here are any mistakes, english isn't my first language, not my best writing

~❤︎~

When Oscar invited you to spend the summer holidays at his family’s house in Melbourne, accepting seemed unthinkable. Your relationship was still in its early stages; even though you had seen his family a few times in the paddock, never in their private space. But when he asked you with that eager expression, his puppy-like eyes shining with excitement, a smile etched on his lips and his fingers gently playing with yours, you felt that refusing was impossible.

"I promise, you're going to love it," he had insisted.

You had nodded, still unconvinced. "Besides, my mom and sisters aren’t really giving you a choice to refuse," he had added with a smirk, squeezing your fingers lightly.

And of course, you had accepted. How could you say no to a "Piastri".

From the moment you arrived, the Australian heat wrapped around you, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of his family. His mother was the first to pull you into a hug, delighted to see you again and welcome you into her home. Then his sisters rushed toward you, pushing Oscar aside without hesitation. They seemed even happier to see you than their own brother.

The way they so effortlessly included you in their conversations warmed your heart, making it impossible to feel like an outsider.

Oscar eventually managed to squeeze between them to pull you toward him, his hand finding yours.

"I think you have the whole week to overwhelm her with questions," he said in a mock-authoritative tone.

The girls burst into laughter but reluctantly agreed to give you some breathing space. Taking advantage of the moment, Oscar gently led you aside, his fingers interlaced with yours, his thumb tracing absent-minded circles on your skin.

❤︎

The afternoon stretched into a golden haze by the pool. The sun hung high in the sky, casting shimmering reflections on the water, while the air was filled with laughter and splashes of his sisters. Oscar hadn’t left your side, lying next to you on a lounge chair.

"You realize you're officially adopted by my family, right?" he murmured, letting his fingers lazily trace patterns on your sun-warmed thigh.

You chuckled, half-opening your eyes to glance at his sisters. "I don’t think I have much of a choice."

"I could almost be jealous, they’re stealing all your attention from me."

You turned your head toward him, meeting his gaze. His hair was still damp from swimming, droplets of water clinging to his skin, making his tanned shoulders glisten under the sun. Seeing him like this stirred a pleasant warmth within you.

"I don’t think you have to worry about losing your spot as my favorite one" you replied, letting your hand slide down his arm until it found his, still resting on your thigh. You squeezed it gently.

His smile widened, a tender gleam in his eyes. Slowly, he leaned in to press a light kiss to your shoulder, letting his lips linger on your skin for a moment longer before pulling back slightly, his gaze never leaving yours.

"And I fully intend to keep that title forever," he murmured, lifting a hand to caress your cheek with gentle affection.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. He was right.

❤︎

Around you, the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the water’s surface. Evening approached, and his family had planned to go out for dinner. But the exhaustion from your long flight had caught up with you. You chose to stay home, and Oscar immediately decided to stay with you.

Just the two of you.

Dinner was filled with fleeting touches and stolen glances, and by the time you finished, the exhaustion of the journey settled over you. You stretched with a sigh, and Oscar, ever attentive, took your hand to lead you to his bedroom.

The bed was cool and welcoming as you slipped under the sheets, the familiar scent of Oscar wrapping around you, soothing. Your muscles instantly relaxed as he settled beside you, moving closer until his warmth surrounded you, his arm draping loosely around your waist.

His fingers, light and teasing, traced slow circles on your hip, his lips grazing your shoulder in a barely-there kiss.

A soft, shivering heat spread through you as his touch grew more intense, his hand slipping under the fabric of your top, brushing against your bare skin.

"Aren’t you tired?" you murmured, your voice barely audible.

"I am," he admitted, his warm breath caressing the curve of your ear. "But I want you."

The way he said it soft, carrying something deeper than desire sent a shiver through you.

His hands moved slowly, tracing the curve of your breast, his thumb grazing over the hardened peak. His touch was unhurried, as if he wanted to savor every inch of you.

You arched into his fingers, a soft sigh slipping from your lips. Encouraged, he pressed a kiss to your neck, then another, trailing down to your collarbone, his lips warm and tender against your skin.

When his hand slipped lower, slipping beneath the elastic of your shorts, you let out a small whimper. He paused, waiting for you to meet his gaze, his eyes reflecting a mix of tenderness and intensity.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, his voice rough with restraint.

You nodded, already breathless. "Yes."

That was all he needed.

His fingers found you easily, already drenched and eager. A quiet groan rumbled in his chest as he pressed against you, drawing slow, deliberate circles that made your toes curl.

"You're always so perfect for me," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours as he explored you with calculated patience.

Pleasure built slowly, his movements teasing but steady, never rushed. He wanted to savor this, to watch you surrender under his touch. His slow torment kept you on the edge, preventing you from reaching that peak, and you let out a frustrated whimper, shifting your hips slightly against him, silently begging for more. In doing so, you brushed against the growing bulge in his shorts.

"Be patient, my love," he teased, his fingers continuing their slow, torturous rhythm, leaving you breathless.

He didn’t stop until he had unraveled you completely, your body arching, your fingers gripping the sheets as waves of pleasure crashed over you. When he increased the pace, each deliberate movement grounding you to him, he whispered against your ear:

"You’re so beautiful… so perfect for me."

The night stretched on, his touches syncing with the distant sound of waves. And when it was over, when you both lay tangled in each other, his warm skin pressed against yours, he never let go.

He pulled you closer, pressing a final kiss to your temple, his fingers drawing idle patterns on your back.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness and sleep.

You smiled, nestling closer to him. "I love you too."

In that cozy bedroom, with moonlight filtering through the window, you knew this trip to Melbourne would be unforgettable.

~❤︎~

!Pictures is not mine. Found on Pinterest. Full credit to the owner!

[cherrycranes]

Private Show (Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x female reader Summary: You're a burlesque star who caught the eye of the infamous Tommy Shelby, and one night after your show he decides to pay you a little visit backstage. Word count: 3,292 Contents: (Minors DNI) Unprotected sex, hair pulling, semi public sex? pull out, cum shot. Author's notes: Once more, my bestie @fuckiingloser and I collaborated to make this. Give her some love! I've had this in mind for quite a while now so I hope you enjoy it. Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. ILY!

The roar of your beloved London audience followed you across the backstage hall. You were a star. A burlesque princess adorned in sequins and rhinestones, enamouring the audience with your unique presence and charm that got you where you stood at this very moment. Adrenaline coursed madly through your veins, mapping out every inner crevice of your risqué scarlet costume. Another job well done. Another night of the glory of bright lights, music and performance.

Every single sound got muffled out right after you entered your small private dressing room. A privilege of being the main attraction. No more snarky comments and unhealthy competition between a stressed out dance troupe. It was just you in your velvety stool, admiring your own self in the vanity mirror. What a beautiful woman. Carefully, you removed your feathered headpiece and let your hair down in relief, finally winding down.

You removed your bracelets and hairpins, carefully placing them in their respective decorated boxes when a soft knock on your door interrupted you. Definitely the stage manager, you thought, already picturing what he would say to you about your next show. To your surprise, however, when you opened the door you met with a completely different man…

Thomas Shelby, in all of his infamous gangster glory standing right in front of you, that signature cheeky smirk upon his devilishly handsome face. 

He looked like he wanted to swallow you whole. 

You knew of this man. The Shelbys had risen to power throughout the years and now, anyone with a working brain knew who they were. The name Tommy Shelby made many shudder, and now, you had him just a step away. 

“Can I help you?” You looked straight into his perfect blue eyes, fearlessly. You owed nothing to anyone and you had no reason to cower in front of him, no matter how dangerous or handsome he was. 

“I don’t know, love, can you?” His smile grew a bit, his voice was husky and rich in a Birmingham accent. He didn’t bother to conceal the way his eyes roamed all over your scantily clad body, so beautifully adorned in red jewels and feathers and so deliciously leaving little to the imagination.

“Backstage is private, you know…” You pretended to chastise him, leaning against the doorframe like you didn’t have a feared criminal shamelessly checking you out. He didn’t even try to hide his intentions. He laughed a bit, your heart raced. No security could ever stop him from doing what he pleased and you both knew it.

 “I've seen your pretty picture on flyers all over town…  Figured I’d come see what all the fuss is about…” He remarked as your eyes locked on each other finally. 

“And?” You asked with a pretty smile. “Was it everything you dreamed and more?” His smirk grew to a big grin. He knew you were a tease, feeding him with playful banter that he absolutely enjoyed.

“You were a sight to behold out there, love… Body like that, face like that and voice like yours… I’ve never seen anything quite like you… You were a goddess up there.” Thomas practically purred to you in that thick accent that made your pussy tingle and sent shivers down your spine. His tongue, quick yet unmissable to your eyes, wet his lips after speaking. So subtle but incredibly sensual. You wanted to drop down to your knees…

But you also wanted to make him work for it a little…

Charmingly, you invited him in for a drink. An irresistible offer. You shut the rest of the world out and closed the door behind him. Just you and him in your little shoebox dressing room. He sat down on the small futon across from you and you sat at your vanity, pouring you two glasses of whiskey from your secret stash. The room was so tiny your knee brushed against his when you spun your stool around to face him and hand him his drink.

“There was buzz amongst the other girls of a Shelby brother in the crowd tonight…” You started, lipstick staining your glass and your legs crossing. “I was hoping it was you…” Thomas smirked like a devil, your admission feeding his ego. 

“And why’s that, love?” He took a large sip of whiskey like it was a sip of you, savoring the burn like he wanted to savor you. It made you nervous, restless… And you were a performer, your nerves were supposed to be of steel. But Tommy had something about him, an aura, a natural disarming confidence that made you want to bow down in submission. You swallowed a bit, just to gain some confidence back, knocking your head out of the trance his accent and icy blue eyes put you under. 

“Well you’re the leader right? The big man in charge…” You charmed through your smirk like he was your audience, looking over at his crisp, expensive navy blue suit. Tommy laughed, pulling a cigarette out and rubbing it against his plump bottom lip before lighting it up.

“That’s right…” He smirked, a puff of smoke adorning his words. He leaned forward a bit, his large calloused hand finding its shameless way to the exposed skin of your knee and rubbing it softly with his thumb. Naughty girl, not even wearing a pantyhose for your performances. A mischievous glint shimmered in his eyes. 

You couldn’t help but bite your lip and clench your legs together at his touch. The sexual tension hung thick and heavy in the air of your tiny dressing room, threatening to burn you both alive. 

“I'm known for getting what I want… When I want it, love…” There it was, expected yet it caused a strong reaction in you. The closer he leaned in, the more he spoke with that deep voice of his, the more you wanted it. He stabbed his cigarette out in the ashtray next to you on your vanity, your faces now inches apart. 

“And I'd love a private show…”  He whispered, his voice raspy. His hand reached out and the tips of his fingers brushed over the red jewels on your breast, nearly feeling the pulse of your racing heart. You could feel yourself soaking through your underwear from just the thought of what he wanted to do with you. To you.

“I'm not a whore, Mr Shelby…” You retorted softly, finding pleasure in resistance despite how turned on you were for him already. Tommy, accustomed to most women giving in easily, smirked, thrilled by the challenge.

“But you could be, couldn’t you? Just for me…?” His voice was attractive, persuasive. One of his hands came up to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, his eyes bearing into yours deeply. There was always something so captivating about a man with no shame about getting what he wants… And this man just so happened to want you.

Hungry eyes moved from your alluring cleavage towards your gaze again. You had found yourself completely speechless at his proposition, not even a single witty comment popping into your head at that moment. For a second, you got lost in the crystal blue, enthralled by the obvious knowledge of what would come next for you both.

Without another word he sat up and leaned forward, closing the gap between you. His plump lips met yours, the taste of cigarettes and whiskey melding in your mouth. You closed your eyes, letting him sink you to the depths of his desire, your tongue melting slowly against his. You took your time with each other, just soaking in the sensuality of it all, sharing a few gentle moans before his hand came up to grip the back of your head.

You made out slowly, almost teasingly for around a minute, then finally pulled back for air. There was that smirk again, Tommy reveled in as his hand snaked between your thighs and his thumb rubbed gently over the satin of your costume, right over your pussy. He pressed against your clit through the fabric and you bit your lip, stifling back a moan.

He took in every single detail of your reaction and loved each one. You felt a nice shiver running down your spine as his mouth came closer to your ear.

“You little minx… This little pussy’s already wet for me and all I had to do was kiss you…”. His hot breath on your ear mixed with his words had your brain buzzing, expertly knowing how to push your buttons.

Soft kisses peppered the skin of your neck, sending another shiver through your spine and goosebumps all over your body. His rough, greedy hands reached back to undo the fastenings of your costume, then gently pulled it down your chest, your warm tits finally bare for his eyes to rake over.

“Jesus… You are just gorgeous…” He rasped, unable to stop himself from tracing the soft underside of your breast. Not that he would have to stop. But even then, for such a rugged, scary gangster, he was so gentle. So reverent. It truly took your breath and words away, filling the now empty space with butterflies instead. From your chest to every nerve ending of your fluttering pussy, a deep need for him ran rampant. 

“You've got me rock hard…” Tommy whispered, proudly proving it to you. His growing bulge in his trousers looking right at you, mirroring your own desire. He rose slowly, looming over you and your vanity set.

“Stand up for me love… Let’s get this costume off you,  I need to see this beautiful body naked and bent over this vanity for me…” 

Your eyes widened, but you weren’t against his request. Without thinking it twice, you stood up, one of his hands slid off your red satin costume bottoms, the other took your hand and helped you step out of them. The metallic jeweled necklace around you felt heavy with all the loss of clothing items, you reached behind to unclasp it, but Tommy stopped you.

“Keep it…” He whispered, slowly turning you around until you faced the mirror of your vanity. You looked utterly gorgeous. Completely naked besides the beautiful ruby necklace you had on. You watched his smile widen in the reflection and his strong arms wrapping around you.

One hand came up to squeeze the soft flesh of your breast, the other now traced slow tempting patterns over your skin, down your stomach and between your legs. One finger rubbed between your slit tortuously slowly, making you moan and close your eyes. You melted against him, perfectly placing your ear close to his hot breath. 

 “Ah ah ah… Keep those pretty eyes open… I want you to watch yourself fall apart on my cock…” Tommy purred, his voice so deep and sexy you wondered why your arousal wasn’t dripping down the inside of your legs already. Obediently, you nodded and opened your eyes, locking gazes with yourself in the mirror. 

“Yes, sir…” You moaned back, his fingertip rubbing painfully slow, hard circles on your clit. He grinned, proud of just how easily you yielded to his touch, how easily you submitted yourself to him.

Slowly, he grinded his aching hard-on against you back, a reminder of what was to come. Gentle, wet kisses left a fiery wake on your neck that extended to your earlobe, he nibbled it, his finger never once forgetting your clit.

“Bend over…” He commanded, a little whine of protest leaving your lips when he withdrew his finger from you. Hoping to get that much needed stimulation back, you did as he said, bending over your vanity and displaying yourself for him. Tommy responded with the sound of his belt unbuckling and the rustling of his trousers being undone. 

In the reflection of the mirror, you watched him pull down his trousers and briefs in one go, his large thick cock springing free and slapping obscenely against his pelvis. Its head was already red and dripping, aching to be buried deep inside you.

Not wasting a single second, he palmed your ass cheeks, spreading them apart a bit to get a better look at you and your puffy wet folds. He groaned, knowing that in a few minutes his cock would be buried deep between them.

He looked up into the mirror, locking eyes with you and giving you a sexy smirk. It was an unforgettable image, with you laid there, bent over your vanity panting in anticipation. The lighting of the room cast a warm glow over your naked body, making the rubies around your neck glimmer. 

“Looks like it’ll be a tight fit love… But we’ll make it work… Won’t we?” He cooed, voice dripping with need like you were dripping wet for him. 

You nodded, your eyes on the mirror, paying close attention to every movement of his and hoping it would lead him closer to fuck you. The way he licked his lips, how he reached down to line up behind you. It all seemed so slow in your own arousal-clouded mind. When he gripped your hips, you felt relief, and when he finally started to sink into your dripping center, you moaned. It was a breathy, soft moan with a grateful undertone. Such a sweet relief after centuries of teasing and foreplay. 

Tommy groaned loudly, one part for pleasure, one part for being proved right. You were indeed really tight. Your pussy stretched and swallowed his aching cock, already feeling so full and he still hadn't pushed all the way in yet. You whimpered, getting split open further like never before in your life. Any discomfort from adjusting to his length and girth completely outshined by total and complete pleasure.

“Fuck me… This pussy is so perfect… Gripping my cock so fuckin’ good…” Tommy groaned, managing to push even further and finally filling you full. He gave you a merciful second to adjust before moving his hips, slowly pumping in and out of you.

Involuntarily, your eyes shut, moaning repeatedly for him in this newfound sea of pleasure. You felt his hand tug around your hair hard, your neck craning up to look into the mirror. A warning. Remembering, your eyes shot open, you whimpered like an apologetic prey to the mixture of pain and pleasure.

“I said… Keep those eyes open…” He growled, stern eyes looking at you through the mirror. As discipline, he pistoned his hips faster, you whined loudly. He drilled into you relentlessly, skin slapping with fury against skin and filling your changing room with obscene noises.

“Y-yes sir…” You managed to moan out, noticing how the pale blue of his eyes never once left the reflection of your deeply fucked form. Your mouth hung open, your eyes were half lidded and struggling to follow his command. In your mind, every single thought disappeared, all of them fucked out of your head until only him remained. 

The thick tip of his cock nudged that special spot inside you, over and over with every perfect, hard thrust of his hips. You babbled incoherently, still watching like he wanted. Your reflection bouncing and jiggling with each hard and fast movement. 

Tommy smirked, but even through his triumph he was lost in the pleasure too. He panted hard, his fingers sunk into the flesh of your hips and made sure there would be evidence of the encounter tomorrow morning. As if you minded. 

The vision of you falling apart on his cock got to him in the best way possible. From the way you were moaning to how you almost drooled as he fucked into you hard. It was obvious you weren’t going to last much longer, and neither would he.

“Jesus Christ-  This pussy’s so good- I think it was made for me… Won’t last much longer…” He groaned to you, a hint of vulnerability escaping in between the words.

At this point, your body and mind had a major disconnect, so well fucked forming a coherent sentence took all your brain power.

“P-please… please come..” You stuttered pathetically, eyes fixed on his reflection. His hand tightened its grip on your hair for leverage as his thrusts got sloppier and sloppier, his strong hips pistoning into you. 

His left hand left its vicious grip on your hip and snaked around to find your clit, beginning to rub hard circles on it. The combination of his long cock poking your g-spot with every thrust and his fingertips rubbing your clit had you seeing God… Your orgasm built in the pits of your stomach, threatening to boil over any second now…

“I want you to come first love…  Want this perfect pussy to cream all over my cock…” He rasped, his voice deep and thick with need, almost like he was begging you to.

And that’s what did it for you.

The pressure in you finally reached its peak and exploded into the best orgasm you had ever experienced. Every nerve of your body relented to the sinful pressure, making you cry out a string of loud whiny moans and mindless curses. Your pussy clenched him tight, like you never wanted to let him go. For a moment you disobeyed his previous command, as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and lost track of the private show your reflection in the mirror was giving.

He moaned loudly, feeling you clamp around him. The satisfaction of seeing the reflection of your face contorting and twisting in pleasure was priceless, Tommy truly understood just how much he loved to see you fall apart for him… Because of him…

He fucked you through your orgasm, chasing him. The feeling of your pussy spasming around him had his usually crystal clear mind completely hazy with pleasure. The way you looked, sounded, felt… It was too much for him… So much it sent him over the edge.

His hips slowed their movements a bit and it hit him.

 “Oh fuck love- I’m coming…” He warned with a strangled moan. Quickly, he pulled out, shooting thick hot ropes of his cum onto your ass cheeks, eyes still focused on the mirror. 

You watched too, biting your lip at the feeling. Tommy’s brows furrowed together while he moaned for you, his warm load slowly dripping down your ass and taking over your senses. You both stayed there for a second, catching your breath, basking in the afterglow together.

After a while, Tommy tucked his tired cock back into his trousers, grabbing a shirt off your vanity and wiping you clean. You finally stood up, turning around to face him despite how weak and wobbly your legs felt. Being bent over your vanity felt like forever, although it was the fastest a man had ever made you finish.

“Well, that was certainly something…” Tommy smirked cheekily, eyes still on you and arms wrapping around your naked waist. You couldn’t help but laugh and blush a little, his presence alone making you feel so shy, as if you hadn’t been moaning like a whore for him just a moment ago.

“You really do put on one hell of a show, love. You’re a natural born performer…” He smiled at his own words, leaning in to nuzzle his nose against yours before giving you a hot kiss. Then, he pulled back, just enough to whisper his proposition against your lips.

“How about we make this a regular thing? I come to all your shows… Maybe even bring you flowers… In return you be my naughty little showgirl and let me fuck n’ fill that perfect cunt and make you scream?”

You smiled without even having to think of your answer… How could a girl say no to that?

Pinterest board made by @fuckiingloser

Random Tommy playlist made by me cause why not

[wchswift]

hii hii HEHEHEH this is so brain rot but i need a story where logan is a big time cuddler (i know he gives the best hug ever 😭) maybe he keeps that only to reader!!

ଓ IN HIS ARMS

pairing: logan howlett x reader

summary: logan is a big time cuddler, but he saves all his tender, comforting affection just for you.

word count: 1.3k

content: fluff, established relationship, implied sex, post-sex cuddles.

a/n: hiii, sorry it took me so long to write it 😭 I may have changed a little from what you asked, but I hope you like it <3

── english isn't my first language :)

Everyone around the mansion was well aware of Logan's grumpy reputation. He was the gruff one, all hard edges, and sharp looks, the not-friendly and indifferent expression to keep people not so close. To most, he's the Wolverine—reserved, intimidating, and always prefers little interaction. But of course, he had his exceptions, like you. You knew better.

Because behind closed doors, Logan was yours, and he’s the most touch-hungry man you've ever met. You know the man beneath the scowl who would hold you close until the rest of the world disappeared if he could. Deep down, he was the type who wouldn’t readily admit it, but he absolutely adored cuddling.

No one would believe it if you told them, but Logan is the best cuddler in the world. There’s something about the way he wraps his arms around you, how his broad chest and strong shoulders make you feel so small and completely safe. It’s like being surrounded by pure strength, and yet it’s soft, too—his touch careful, deliberate, filled with a tenderness that only you get to see. God this man knew how to hug.

Right now, his arms are wrapped around you as you settle against his chest, his warmth seeping into you like the coziest blanket. The room is quiet except for the soft hum of life outside and the sound of his steady breathing. Nights like this—peaceful, undisturbed—are your favorite.

You let out a contented sigh, your head resting against the solid strength of his chest. His heartbeat thumps steadily beneath your ear, soothing and grounding in a way only Logan can manage.

“You comfy, princess?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum softly, snuggling closer.

Logan’s hand drifts lazily up and down your back, tracing slow, soothing circles. He’s always touching you like this, his hands finding you almost instinctively, whether it’s to ground himself or to comfort you. Maybe it’s both.

“You’ve got the best hugs,” you murmur, your voice muffled against his chest.

Logan chuckles softly, the sound a deep, rumbling vibration against your cheek. “Yeah? Don’t tell anyone. Gotta keep my image intact.”

You laugh lightly, shifting to look up at him. His lips quirked in a rare smile, the kind only you ever see. Before you can say anything else, he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, lingering there like he’s savoring the moment.

Logan doesn’t say it, but you know this side of him—the warmth, the tenderness, the way he holds you like you’re the most important thing in the world—is something he reserves only for you. Around the others, he’s all scowls and clipped words, but in private, he’s the kind of man who craves touch like it’s air.

He didn’t always show it, though. Logan wasn’t the kind of man to give away pieces of himself so easily. It took a while to get that part of him. You vividly remember the first time he hugged you like this, back when he still had walls up, back when you weren’t sure what you meant to him.

You’d been having a rough day—a hard mission that made you doubt yourself, leaving you shaken and overwhelmed. You tried to hide it from everyone, retreating to the quiet safety of your room. But Logan noticed. He always noticed.

Without a word, he appeared in your doorway, his expression softer than usual but still guarded.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and gravelly.

At first, you nodded, trying to brush it off, but when he stepped closer and gently touched your arm, the dam broke. You let out a shaky breath, your eyes stinging, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him.

For a second, you thought he’d pull away—this was Logan, after all. But instead, his arms came around you, steady and sure, pulling you against him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That was the first time you felt the magic of the Wolverine hug. His hold was strong but not overwhelming like he was shielding you from everything bad in the world. His hand ran soothingly up and down your back, his chin resting lightly on top of your head.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “I’ve got you.”

And he did. From that moment on, you realized that Logan wasn’t just a good hugger—he was the best. There was something about the way he held you like he could take all your worries and crush them with his strength. He didn’t need to say much; his arms said it all.

Now, it’s second nature. He doesn’t wait for an excuse to hold you—he pulls you into his lap while you’re reading, tangles himself around you when you’re in bed, and presses his face into your hair after a long day. His hands are always on you, whether it’s a comforting palm against your back, his fingers laced with yours, or his arm slung around your waist like he needs to keep you close. And you dare to say he loves it more than you.

After the sex, he’s especially clingy—not that you mind. Pulling you into his arms as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear, he will wrap himself around you completely. His lips leave lazy, soft, lingering open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder, hair, collarbone, cheek—anywhere he can reach. Each one feels like a promise, a reminder that you’re his. He let his hands roam lazily, tracing patterns on your skin like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

“You feel so damn good, princess” he’ll whisper, his voice rough but tender. And the way he holds you in those moments like he never wants to let go, makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe.

And the way he looks at you in those moments? It’s enough to make your heart stop. His usual sharp, guarded gaze softens, filled with a quiet devotion he doesn’t show to anyone else.

Around the others, he’s all grumbles and scowls, pretending he’s not the same man who just kissed you senselessly an hour ago. He keeps his distance—at least, as much as he can.

Even in public, though, there are cracks in his armor. His hand will brush yours under the table or he’ll rest his palm on your thigh. Sometimes, when he thinks no one’s paying attention, you’ll catch him watching you with an intensity that makes your heart race.

The others might tease him for being overprotective, for always keeping an eye on you, but they don’t see the real Logan. They don’t see how he softens when he holds you or how he presses his forehead against yours like you’re the thing that saved him.

“Love you,” he murmurs now, his lips brushing against your hair. His voice is quiet like he’s not ready to say it too loudly, but the words hit you like a warm rush all the same.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, those dark, stormy eyes soft in the dim light. “Love you too,” you whisper, brushing a kiss against his jaw before settling back into his arms.

Logan presses another kiss to the top of your head, his hand slipping under the blanket to pull you closer. He holds you like you’re his anchor, his steady presence in a chaotic world.

And as you drift off in his arms, surrounded by his warmth and strength, the rest of the world feels small and far away—because with Logan, you’re home.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Governesses

I've covered royal childcare in this post here but I received an ask asking for specifics surrounding the role of Governesses. So what do we need to know? For @princealienelffish22

Who is the Governess?

Governesses are the female private tutors that raise children for royal, noble or affluent families. They aren't quite servants nor are they equal to the family. In all households, the governess is usually unmarried but there have been some examples in royal households where the governess was or had been married such as Kat Ashley or Margaret, Countess of Salisbury. This was mainly to ensure she wouldn't go getting distracted by her own kids and family while she's raising somebody else's kids. If she is not a noble, she will at least be well born, at least middle class. Being a governess wasn't exactly a desired job but it was a respectable way for an unmarried woman to earn herself some cash. She will, of course, be very educated.

What does the Governess do?

A Governess is essentially a tutor. She would been in charge of teaching children the fundamental 'R's, (Reading, Writing and Arithmetic). She would teach all children but when boys reached about age 7 or so, the boys would go on to male tutors for more expansive education. The governess would teach girls up until they came out in society or even until they married, mainly teaching them languages, etiquette and chaperoning the children. She would even teach life skills such as sewing, embroidery and art to the girls in her charge. Whilst the more hands on tasks would fall on nursery staff, the governess probably had a more emotional role in the raising of the children.

Role of the Governess in the family

The thing with hiring a governess didn't mean that the kid's parents hated their babies or didn't feel like raising them. With many noble, upper class and royal families, they simply wouldn't have been able to juggle both their duties and children. This lead to many children forming attachments to their governesses that lasted lifetimes such as Queen Victoria's Baroness Lehzen. This sometimes caused tension between parents and governesses. Tension was also often caused if the governess was too close to certain members of the family like the husband or wife, because the governess was expected to distance herself unless invited. She wouldn't be invited to eat dinner with them, she would eat alone. She would come with them to their summer residence and if they were travelling. She would come and go if she wanted but she was expected to be at their beck and call.

Notable Governesses

Margaretta Eagar (funny story, she's the reason that OTMA had slight Irish accents when speaking English)

Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury

Madame de Maintenon (she ended up marrying the King)

Kat Ashley (stayed with Elizabeth I all her life)

Baroness Louise Lehzen (stayed with Victoria long after her marriage)

Charlotte Percy, Duchess of Northumberland

Anna Leonowens (The King and I - is this Anna)

Louise Élisabeth de Croÿ

Yolande de Polastron, Duchess of Polignac

Caroline Lamb

Edith Cavell

Anne Sullivan

Mary Wollstonecraft (before she became a writer)

Edith Cavell

Anna Whittaker

Anne Sullivan (Helen Keller's governess)

Maria Sklodowska - Curie (before she became a scientist)

Maria von Trapp (Yes, she's real and no, she's not Julie Andrews)

Marion "Crawfie" Crawford

Clara Knight

Charlotte Brontë (before her books)

[chevxyn]

how to figure out if it’s ‘itoshi sae’ or ‘honey’ a guide!

written fic; the difference between his personality to everyone else (media) and to his darling, you.

wc; 350+ words

itoshi sae x you

fluff, not proofread, lowercase intended, comfort, imagine + short fic.

note : english is not my first language! i’m sorry if there is some grammatical confusions 😕

to simply it; itoshi sae,

he is blunt, prideful, cold, serious, egoistic to the media. not caring about anything else but football. and doesn’t hold back, even going so far to degrade other people that don’t meet his standards, or too ‘lukewarm’ as he says.

but, honey?

he is gentle, caring, and loving man. someone that not the media can see, but only you. his darling lover. you as what they call ‘the only exception’ & one of his weakness. he could go to an interview after match, having slight little care about it. but when you come? his gaze would softened almost immediately.

you were in the front stands, as the game was about to end. why are you here? well, you were invited by your boyfriend to watch him.

using his jersey, you would cheer whenever he takes control of the ball. or when he would pass it perfectly to the other teammate.

as the full time whistle was heard, the players stopped. as re al, won 2-0 against the other team.

you were about to go to your boyfriend as cameras and mics suddenly crowded to go towards him, and you slowly stopped.

not noticing, your boyfriend’s eyes was locked onto yours. as the reporters surrounded him. he refused to talk to any of them. hell, even pushing them from his way. that’s what they knew of itoshi sae.

you stood there quietly, before he went to you, and hugged you immediately. as cameras clicked, he looked at you, “how’d i do?” he had asked, his eyes that was just cold towards the reporters that he pushed away suddenly softened as he locked that same eyes with yours.

“you did, amazing.” you said and you gave him that same smile, that made him fall inlove. “as per usual, of course.” you chuckled.

but as more and more pictures was took, the cameras click made you slightly uncomfortable, and when sae took notice of it, he immediately took you away from that crowd.

to another part of place, now usually he would go to the locker room, but since you’re here, he figured he’ll take you elsewhere.

he ended up taking you into one of the vip lounge, where it was just a private room for the two of you. “more comfortable here?” you nodded as he made that question.

it was an awkward silence, before he takes your hand and placed it ontop of his lips. “thank you,” he exclaimed and you raised your eyebrow at him, “for what?”

“being my best supporter yet,” he complimented as his other hand pulled you in by waist, seeking for confirmation, before leaning in and giving you a soft, gentle kiss. and now this is honey.

©chevxyn

[sstan-hoe]

𝐀𝐧 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — congressman!bucky barnes × journalist!fem!reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — interviewing congressman James Buchanan Barnes didn't seem like a big deal, if he wasn't known for getting the journalists fired...but with you...he had other ideas...

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — SMUT: p in v, unprotected, fingerings, sir kink, kind dark, kinda not, not aftercare cuz I didn't write it, bucky barnes, yeah that's a warning, did I forget anything?

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — okay, yeah, I jumped in that train, but how could I not? We can all agree I'm fucking rusty, idk what this is, I didn't even know how to end it? Where is my writing talent, like look at this? well, feedback is appreciated but ehh yeah I understand if not haha, also no beta, English is not my first language, yk all that stuff

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the chaos that would follow in the next two hours. It was your first major interview, before all you did was write a few articles and do research. Therefore, you were even more anxious with the task you got from your boss.

Disappointing her was not an option but you knew how difficult today would be, in preparation for this moment you watched many interviews with the congressman. You observed actions of journalists he would criticise or how he would react to certain questions.

This way you were able to tell yourself it would be a great interview. All while hoping your boss was not searching for a reason to fire you and this was her way of getting rid of you.

You had set questions, which couldn’t be changed and some you weren’t even allowed to ask. So, a waterproof plan, right? Well congressman Barnes wasn’t known for his flawless interviews or his friendly answers.

No, he was rude and harsh. Many journalists before you had lost their job or swore to never interview him again – or more like weren’t allowed to come back. His answers were short and often left no room for arguments. If a reporter even messed up a tiny bit, he would immediately call them out on it.

Walking into the tall building felt like you would crumble under the pressure, everything was so massive and intimidating. Well, a place fit for a man like James Buchanan Barnes.

They checked your ID and instructions. Simply what to do and not to do, nothing new. Still, it felt like you committed a crime, after all the secruity never left you alone, which made sense as they wanted to make sure Barnes was safe.

Although, he could protect himself with that metal arm of his – also something you were under no circumstances allowed to ask about. The last one who did, has never surfaced again.

“You can sit there, he will be with you in five minutes,” a man with broad shoulders and blonde hair told you. He looked like the typical American golden boy, he did seem a bit scary, but you would bet he was a true sweetheart.

“Okay,” you answered, though he probably didn’t even hear you as he walked right out of the door again. It gave you a chance to take in the room, it wasn’t like the usual interview rooms you saw on TV, no it seemed more private and secured.

In hopes to be perfect, you set everything up. Everything had to align, the papers, the pen and water of course. You could not give him any reason to snap at you.

Just as you finished, the man of the hour stepped in with five secruity men. Barnes entrance came with an unstoppable aura, like everyone would cower under his presence and most of the time they did.

He glared at you, as if you had just called him an asshole – which you didn’t. You tried your best not to show him how much it bothered you, so you just smiled brightly at him.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes, I’m really honoured that you agreed to this interview,” you politely said once he sat down. “You’re welcome,” he answered, voice a lot deeper than you thought and awfully sexy. How could he be single? Also, a question no one was allowed to ask, but it was unusual for a congressman to have no partner…right?

He nodded at his men, and instantly they cleared out which confused you. “Aren’t they supposed to protect you?” you questioned, already regretting it.

“Yes, they are right in front of the door and the room has cameras everywhere,” he explained, voice monotone. Lightly he tilted his head, he gave every reporter three strikes – not telling them of course – and once they hit them, he would make them leave.

After knowing who would interview him, he did his research, and you were the first one he barley found any information on. You weren’t known yet, which was probably the reason they send you.

However it made him curious, the articles you had written so far were good – some even better than the ones of his previous reporters. Besides you were a lot prettier than them.

“Oh, yeah…that makes sense,” you nodded in agreement, trying to hide the fact that you still found it weird. “Okay, then we should start. I will ask you questions, and you answer them however you want, and-,” “I know how to answer questions doll,” he cut you off in a sharp tone, eyes quite dark.

Great, this was going fucking great, you told yourself, “I know, of course, I just…I’m used to doing it this way,” you tried your best to explain, keeping a smile on your lips. In response Barnes lifted his eyebrow, “you’re used to making the person oppisite of you look stupid?”

Couldn’t there be a fire, or an attack or anything? Anything that would make you end this interview, “no, no I’m not. We will just start, first question: not everyone is happy that you won the election, is there a way you want to proof yourself to them?”

“No, I won’t do anything. Everyone has their opinion, and they should keep it, I proofed myself enough, if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here,” he answered, leaning back against his chair. You knew he had good answers but damn.

“Sounds good, I mean there was never a congressman everyone liked,” you agreed, writing his answer down. “Yes, thank you,” he said with sarcasm and only then you realised what you had actually said, with wide eyes you began apologizing, “I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just you know slang,” that what bullshit, it wasn’t slang you only needed an explanation.

“Slang?” he repeated, he knew you were nervous – everyone was – but he didn’t expect to enjoy it this much. You pressed your lips together, nodding along, “yes.”

“Next question,” you put a bright smile back on your face, “your term is rather young, but in this time, you already accomplished a lot, what are you most proud of?” For a moment there was a silence, it gave you a chance to take a closer look at Barnes.

Suddenly he had a small smirk on his lips instead of the normal stoic expression, you’d never seen him act any different in recent interviews. Maybe it was a good sign, maybe he wouldn’t end your carrier right after today.

“That every woman has the right of an abortion without fear,” he stated, crossing his fingers on his lap. You had no arguments there, it was truly remarkable.

Quickly you scribbled his answer down and checking the question off your list. “The other journalist had a recorder, are you not professional enough for that?” And there he was again, the friendly congressman everyone knew. It sounded almost as if he was taunting you.

“I am, just because I don’t fit your standard does not mean I’m unprofessional,” you snapped, then instantly clamping a hand over your mouth as you realised how you just spoke to the congressman.

Said person didn’t care, now he fully smirked with satisfaction, “so you actually can speak louder than a little mouse.” Oh, he looked so proud of himself for say that.

His words came unexpected, from your research you knew that he had a sharp tongue, but this was entirely new. From his answer you gathered he did it on purpose, but why would he want you to be rude? You could be reaching, but maybe your boss did want to get rid of you and asked him for help…okay that was crazy.

“Moving on,” you ignored his words, shaking your head a little as an idea popped in your head, if he could be an asshole so could you. “Many people wonder what happened with your arm, were you in the army or maybe an accident?”

“Come again?” he almost growled, features becoming dark and almost scary. Body moving a little forward, even though a small part of you was scared, you were extremely turned on.

You didn’t know what to say, should you really repeat it? Fuck it, yes. “What happened to your arm?” eyes staying on his, noticing how he flexed said arm.

“Becoming quite bold, are we? I remember this being a question you’re not allowed to ask,” he lifted his chin as if challenging you. This was exactly what he wanted, to see if you were really as shy as he read and he was positively surprised.

“I told you I’m not like the others,” suddenly you forgot who you were talking to, forgot how he was one of the most important and powerful people in the world.

Then he stood up, his huge body towering over you. Bucky rested his hands on either side of your chair, face dangerously close to yours. It was as if he could feel how nervous you became.

“No, you’re not…,” he whispered, hands taking yours and guiding you to stand up. As if in trance you followed him, looking up at him with big eyes.

“You’re far more beautiful,” he continued, letting his hands glide up your body to your face. Was this actually happening? No, you had to be dreaming, there was no other explanation.

You had no words, you were speechless, and your mind was running wild. Is that why he chose you? Because he wanted a quick fuck? As if he couldn’t get anyone, he wanted but you would surely not cave and lose your job – wait would you lose it if you did not sleep with him?

“This is unprofessional,” you stated, trying to move your chair a little further away from him. However, your words only made the man smirk with a devilish glint in his eyes.

“Who is to say we should not do this? There is no one with more power than me doll,” he whispered, closer than he was before. He would be lying if he said he didn’t do his research on you and if he would deny how captive, you held him.

Your work stood out, you really seemed to care the people you interviewed and wanted to give the audience a look behind the curtains. Every other reporter he had before was full of themselves, proud to be interviewing the congressman and only getting what was necessary.

His agenda may or may not have been unprofessional. But who could blame him? You were the prettiest girl he had ever seen, it was remarkable, and he wanted you.

“I’m not sleeping with you, I’m not some girl you can use to get off,” you continued, trying to stand up but Bucky gripped your waist instead. Was this truly your life? Of course, James Barnes was a walking god, but this felt like a situation right out of a romance book.

He chuckled at that, he loved how you played hard to get. “Sure,” he nodded before pulling you flush against his hard chest, reflexively your hands flew against his broad shoulders.

“Prove me wrong,” he challenged you, then pressed his lips against yours, tongue gliding along your upper lip. Caught up in the moment you accepted his tongue into your mouth, his kiss was hot and filled with hunger.

It felt like he was swallowing you and you hated to admit how damn good he felt. Not only his aura was screaming dominance but also actions did as he lightly bit into your bottom lip to keep your mouth open.

You moved into him, hands wrapping around his neck. With a heavy breath Bucky broke the kiss, wearing a satisfied smirk, “you seem to quite enjoy this doll.”

In response you rolled your eyes, “it is highly unprofessional, you should know this,” you tried to keep your voice hard, in order to convince yourself to not fall further into his schemes.

Again, he didn’t take you seriously instead he placed hot kisses along your collarbone, and you couldn’t help but let out a whine by the way his slight stubble was rubbing against your skin. It was rough yet set you on fire.

“Does that normaly work for you?” he questioned in between kisses, suddenly you sensed pressure just above your pulse. The congressman was marking you up, like you were his possession.

“What?” you asked confused, eyes fighting to stay open as you gripped onto his hair. In response he shook his head, continuing his way down your cleavage. Meanwhile he let his hand slide up to the collar of your blouse and without hesitation ripped it open.

His actions pulled you from your bliss, gasping loudly, “I just bought this one!” “Please, I will buy you a new one if you’re so attached,” he rolled his eyes, slipping your blouse off and revealing your black lace bra.

God, you looked amazing, if Bucky wasn’t on a time limit, he would take the time to worship your tits properly.

“No, no, no, I told you this is wrong!” you let go of him and put your hands on his chest to keep a distance. You couldn’t let this go any further than it already had, but the man in front of you was so hard to resist.

“Doll, if it’s wrong than why does it feel like the right thing to do?” he whispered against the shell of your ear, resting his hands once again on your waist, however now you felt the contrast of his warm flesh hand and cold metal hand.

Letting his metal hand move down to your thigh, he lifted your leg to pull you closer to him. The way he manoeuvred your body made you feel his hard erection.

You whimpered in order to supress a moan slipping from your lips, “Mr. Barnes,” you argued. He knew exactly what he was doing, “I like the way you say my name, so be honest…if you’re so against this, then why are you reacting this way, mhm?”

“Come on doll, tell me,” his lips ghosted over yours before he hosted you up completely. “Sir…please,” you tried again, voice cracking as you tried to stabilize yourself.

He chuckled walking towards his desk, laying you down on the hard wood. “That’s what I thought,” he grinned, kissing down your stomach to your heated core. You thought you would explode, the congressman was about to pleasure you, the same man who you were scared would fire you.

“Let’s see if I really don’t have any effect on you doll,” you got goosebumps from the way his hot breath hit your skin. Bucky opened your trousers, pulling them down your legs.

He hooked his fingers around your panties, revealing how right he was. “Look at that, you’re fucking wet for the congressman,” he sounded taunting, but you would bet he was satisfied with himself.

However, his words only made this moment feel even dirtier than it already was. You propped yourself up on your elbows and suddenly realised you were completely naked yet the man in front of you wasn’t.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit unfair how you’re still fully dressed?” you questioned with raised brows, not knowing you could muster up this much confidence at the moment.

“Do you think this is any way to speak to me?” his tone became dark, throwing your panties across the room. With one sentence he destroyed your confidence, “I’m sorry sir,” you instantly apologized which played right into Bucky’s cards.

Smirking he shrugged of his blazer, loosened his tie and unbuttoned his dress shirt a little. It gave you a view onto his god-like chest.

“That’s a good girl,” he told you, pulling his tie over his head and stuffed it into your mouth. While it was extremely hot you felt a slight disappointment, “aww, don’t worry doll, you’ll get the chance to scream as loud as you need but not today.”

“Sadly, we’re on a tight schedule, so I will have to eat you out another time,” he said it like it was the most casual thing there was while you almost choked, there would be a second time?

His fingers traced along your cunt, spreading your juice over your skin, “feel how wet you are for me? And here you were saying that you didn’t want this,” he tsked, pushing his middle and pointer finger into your pulsing core.

You bit down on his tie, suppressing a moan and muffling his last name. Even in this situation you were too scared to say his first name.

“Squeezing my fingers huh, doll?” Bucky pulled his fingers from you and smeared his cock with your wetness. Then he undid his pants, letting his hard member free. Your gaze fell down to his cock, his leaking tip hitting his stomach.

You’d never thought you would say this, but he looked too pretty, and thicker than anyone you had before. “You’re so pretty,” you mumbled, your mind wasn’t function properly, so it didn’t even surprise you as those words left your mouth.

Bucky could barley make out what you were saying, he had an idea though and turned him on even more. With no warning he thrusted his cock inside your aching pussy, not caring if it hurt.

This time you couldn’t contain any sounds, you screamed loudly, clawing onto the wooden desk. “Feel me stretching you doll?” he smirked, pulling out but leaving his tip inside, just barley to tease you. Then he pushed in, with a hard pace he pummelled in and out of you.

You couldn’t help but clench around him, wrapping your lags around his hips which made him grin, “don’t want me leaving ya?”

Shaking your head you tried to keep the grip as tight as possible, he felt like heaven, he filled you perfectly and hit your sweet, sensitive spot in all the right ways.

His metal hand came down to rub circles on your clit, putting pressure on the sensitive bundle of nerves to drive you closer to your high. Given the fact he was still stronger than you, he had no problems moving with you pressing your legs against him.

In fact, it only made him enjoy it more. Your eyes rolled in the back I’d your head as you felt a shot if ecstasy crash through your nerves. Bucky was admiring how fucked out you looked, trying to hold onto one single though; him.

“I can feel you getting tighter doll, be a good girl and come...then you can milk my cock of every last drop,” he leaned down, whispering into your ear, flesh hand coming up to your throat to keep you in position.

“I can’t-“ you whimpered, it was too much, never before had you felt this much pleasure, never before was anyone able to make you come with his cock.

“You will, slut,” the congressman growled, demanded. This was exactly the man you feared just moments ago. Now you felt different, now you wanted to make him proud.

“Yes, sir,” you caved, letting everything happen, let the tight knot in your stomach explode. You tried holding onto his wrist, but your grip slipped.

With satisfaction Bucky fucked you through your orgasm, know it would push you even further into submission. He bit his lip, trying not to let out a strangled groan at the way you gripped him like a vice.

Seeing you have you climax made him sure to follow you suit, roads of white cum painted your swollen walls. It took everything in him to keep moving, to make you would get every last drop of him. “I could get used to being interviewed by you, doll,” he grunted, slightly tighting his hold on your throat.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, too overwhelmed with the situation. What had he done to you? Why did he give you an amazing orgasm ? What would happen now?

It was too much running through your brain, you just needed a nap, just for five minutes.... “Oh, doll, this was just the beginning.”

told ya, shit ending

[lovemomhatepolice]

have you always been this beautiful? - oscar piastri

navigation taglist requests

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! reader

warnings: friends to lovers (??), alcohol, partying, swearing, p in v, blow job, pet names, protection used!, drunk sex, English is my second language!

type: smut with plot

word count: 4k

summary: You've never seen Oscar so drunk. And you've never seen Oscar with so many conflicting emotions. What would the evening bring you?

more content: formula 1 masterlist, oscar piastri masterlist, as a boyfriend - lando norris, as a boyfriend - charles leclerc, latest oscar's one-shot

Mclaren's win in the Championship was uncertain until the last moment. Lando led for a long time, battling with the two Ferraris behind him. Both teams fought for dominance - for both teams this was to be the evening that decided everything. And on that fateful day, Oscar Piastri ended up in 10th position - admittedly scoring points for Mclaren, but the bitterness was evident. Fortunately, only for a moment - the end of the race, Lando wins, Mclaren wins the Championship.

Such a frenzy has not been seen for a long time.

After all the celebrations, commemorative photos and interviews, it was time for a private party. You and Oscar's family returned to the hotel earlier than he did. You bathed, washed your hair and chose the perfect dress for the evening. It was short, black and left little to the imagination. But who would care about that? This evening was supposed to be full of celebration, alcohol and fun, right?

—————

“You've been looking at her for fucking ten minutes,” groaned an already slightly drunk Lando, poking Oscar on the shoulder. “Don't you know how to approach?”

“Rude?” muttered Oscar, glancing at his teammate. “I'm not staring.”

“Of course,” nodded Norris, taking Oscar under his arm and leading him crookedly to the bar. “You drink and go!”

“No, no-” Oscar tried to get out of the hands of the man, but it was not given to him.

Lando pressed his glass into Oscar's hand, grinning like an idiot. “Trust me, man. Liquid courage. You're going to need it,” he said.

Oscar sighed, combing his hand through his hair. He didn't need courage. He needed to take the plunge. But when he looked around the room and saw you laughing with his sisters, your head tilted back, your eyes gleaming in the golden glow of the chandeliers - his heart froze.

He took a sip. Then another. Before he knew it, he and Lando were drinking a line of colorful shots whose names he couldn't remember. The men at the bar laughed, drinking along with the drivers - Zak Brown, the mechanics, their fathers joined in. A nice artificial crowd had formed, but they were trusted people, so they could afford a moment of normality.

“There you go!” Lando cheered, tapping his glass against Oscar's, before stumbling away and going God knows where.

Oscar stayed at the bar, clutching his drink a little too tightly. He pretended for so long that there was nothing between the two of you. Because if there was nothing, nothing could go wrong. There was no risk of ruining what you had. There was no risk of losing you.

But today something was different. He had time, he had time to think things over and allow himself (in his intoxicated state) to have feelings that he kept at bay when he was sober.

You caught his gaze. You stopped them. You smiled.

Before he could stop himself, his feet began to move. The crowd blurred around him, music rumbled, laughter echoed. He stopped in front of you, suddenly realizing how close you were, how the scent of your perfume wrapped around him like a bloody spell.

“You washed up nicely,” you teased, looking at his starched suit.

Oscar laughed, shaking his head. You were drunk, too, you both were, and like Lando said, alcohol was your liquid salvation.

“And you…” He swallowed, letting his gaze lower for a moment, then raised it back up. “You look amazing.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused . “Incredible enough to stare at for ten minutes.”

He groaned. “Lando told you.”

“He said. I even dare say he shouted” You tilted your head, now in a softer voice, you were a little too bold. “But… I don't mind.”

Oscar felt his pulse thump against his ribs. The air between you changed, charged with something unspeakable. Something he had ignored for too long.

He should say something. He should finally come clean. After all, you were looking at him with those damn beautiful glowing eyes.

“Will you dance with me?” you asked, stepping closer and breaking the silence that had fallen between you.

He swallowed, but didn't protest. When you grabbed his hand, he knew there was nothing more he could do, let alone refuse. You led him to the dance floor, and he was too stunned to say anything. His head was swirling with thoughts, and his heart was beating too fast. Oscar had never been so drunk.

When you stopped, you turned to him and put your hands on his shoulders. He took a deep breath, his hand settled on your hip and took a step closer. Your faces were almost in contact. You felt each other's breath on your lips. Oscar felt a shiver run along his spine. You looked at him with an intensity that made his stomach flutter. His lips parted and he wanted to kiss you so badly that it was unbearable. Oscar had never been so drunk. Neither was you.

His hand tightened slightly on your waist, and his fingers tightened on the soft material of your dress. Your embrace on his shoulders reflected his tension, the silent understanding between you.

The music around you faded into the background, the throbbing bass barely registering in the hum of blood in Oscar's ears. He was no longer thinking - he was feeling. The warmth of your skin through the thin barrier of cloth, the way your breath brushed his lips, the way his heart pounded against his ribs as if trying to escape.

“You should kiss me” - you muttered, barely audible over the music, but it reached him.

His throat trembled as he swallowed, and his grip tightened even more. “I should,” he admitted, his voice hoarse, rougher than usual.

One bar passed.

Then another.

Until he finally gave in.

Oscar leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in the softest, most tentative kiss. It was only a whisper of contact, but it caused a jolt in both of you. Your fingers tightened on the material of his shirt, clinging to him.

At first he was hesitant - uncertain, as if held back by the weight of years of unspoken words and stolen glances. But then you breathed softly against his lips, melting into him, and all hesitation vanished.

His lips clamped tighter on yours, moving in a way that seemed like a confession. His free hand moved up to embrace your face, and his fingers wove into your hair, drawing you closer, as if he feared you would disappear.

The world blurred, everything but you and him became irrelevant. You were now just the two of you, wrapped in the golden glow of the room, captured in a moment that had waited too long.

When he finally pulled away, just enough to look at you, your eyes met his with an unspoken question.

"Come with me?" he asked, his voice low and thick with a promise. You could only nod. He didn't have to ask twice.

You may have been making a mistake when you left the party that evening, merely waving to Lando, who was drunkenly dancing with Zak Brown in the middle of the dance floor.

Maybe you were also making a mistake when you got into a private cab, giving the driver the address of your hotel, which he knew well by heart.

Maybe you were making a mistake when you sat there all warmed up, covered by his black jacket, his hand clamped on your thigh.

Maybe you were making a ton of mistakes - that day you could blame it on alcohol. But what about the others?

~~~

The elevator ride was quiet, thick with anticipation, neither of you daring to speak up. Oscar stood next to you, his fingers blindly wandering down your back, which sent shivers down your spine. The quiet buzzing of the hotel's machinery filled the space, the only sound other than your unsteady breathing. What were you guys doing?

You looked up at him, your pulse hammering in your throat. His jaw was clenched and his gaze fixed on the flashing numbers above the door. It wasn't hesitation - no, it was restraint. The battle raged beneath the surface of his usually composed appearance.

The door opened with a quiet clang. He grabbed your hand, his grip was strong, and his touch ignited something deep in your chest. Without a word, he led you down a dimly lit corridor, passing a door that hid secrets far less intoxicating than the one between you.

When you reached his room, he hesitated - just for a second, his fingers hovering over the card scanner. You knew he was giving you a chance to leave, to change your mind. But you didn't budge.

The quiet beep of the lock disengaging made your heart go up to your throat.

It was dark inside, illuminated only by the lights of the city piercing through the curtains. The door slammed behind you, the sound was final, locking you inside, whatever it was - that moment, that night, that undeniable force that neither of you had the strength to fight anymore.

His jacket slipped off your shoulders as he stepped forward and looked at you. You were all warmed up and it wasn't about the weather at all.

“Oscar…” You weren't sure if it was a warning of the unknown or an invitation.

His fingers found your waist, his touch burning even through the haze of alcohol. You felt more strongly than before.

“Tell me to stop,” he muttered in a thick voice, with eyes darker than you had probably ever seen.

You didn't.

Instead, you reached for him, and the last shred of restraint crumbled between you. You touched his shirt collar and pulled him tightly to you, bringing your lips together. It was more intense now than at the club. You were alone and could afford it.

He tasted like expensive alcohol and the forbidden fruit that it was. God, but you were hungry.

His lips clung to yours, his teeth gently tugging at your lower lip, his tongue tasting, exploring. You melted into him, unable to stop the moan that escaped your lips as he pressed his body against yours. He had hard muscles and a lean physique, and his embrace was bruised and demanding.

He kissed you as if the world was going to end tomorrow, as if the only thing that mattered was the touch of your lips, the taste of your mouth. You broke the kiss, both of you catching air greedily. His pupils were dilated, blackness engulfing his warm, hazel eyes.

“I've been dreaming of this for so long,” he admitted, and his voice was low and hoarse.

“Why didn't you do anything before?” you asked breathlessly, looking into his eyes.

“I couldn't mess up what we had,” he sighed, looking for at least some doubt in your eyes.

You exhaled, your fingers still tangled in his hair, your body still pressed against his. "And now?" you whispered, searching his face, your heart pounding so hard it drowned out the distant hum of the city.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, down to your swollen lips. "Now I can't stop myself," he murmured. "Tell me this isn't just the alcohol. I don’t want this to be something we regret in the morning"

You swallowed, still reeling from his touch, his kiss, the weight of everything unspoken. "Oscar…" Your fingers curled against his chest. "The only thing I'd regret is never knowing how this felt."

His lips curved in a smile, and his hands moved lower, resting on the curves of your hips. “I want you so much,” he breathed, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth, ”I've always wanted you.”

You could feel the evidence of his desire on your thigh and you bit your lip. You felt dizzy and your chest ached with the longing that had been burning inside you for years.

“Then take me.” - you whispered, feeling a thrill of excitement as the words left your lips.

You weren't sure who initiated the kiss. Maybe it was you, or maybe it was him. Or maybe both of you at the same time, surrendering to the inevitable.

His lips met yours and this time there was no restraint. There was a hunger that you had suppressed for too long.

The world around you blurred, the only thing grounding you was Oscar—his touch, his breath, the way he held you as if afraid you’d slip away. The years of unsaid words, of lingering glances and missed opportunities, all unraveled in this moment.

His hands moved up your back, pressing you impossibly closer, as if proximity alone could make up for the time wasted in uncertainty. Your fingers traced the sharp angles of his jaw before slipping into his hair, tugging gently. A quiet groan rumbled in his throat, and something about it sent warmth flooding through you.

“Fuck, I can't believe I waited this long.” - he murmured into your mouth, his voice rough and marked by something like desperation.

You laughed, a breathless, delirious sound, and kissed him again, savoring the touch of his lips, the taste of his tongue. Your body was on fire, every nerve alive and buzzing with need.

He tugged at the zipper on the back of your dress, and you broke the kiss long enough for him to slide it off your shoulders, exposing the bare skin beneath. His gaze darkened, and his fingers moved lightly over your shoulders, leaving goosebumps on them.

“You're perfect.” - he breathed, his eyes roaming over you.

You trembled under his gaze, suddenly restrained. But before you had time to pull away, he kissed you again, his touch strong and sure.

You moaned into his mouth as his hands explored your body, teasing and enticing.

The bra material rubbed against your nipples and you felt a shiver of pleasure. He was everywhere, overwhelming you with his touch, his scent and the warmth radiating from him...

You quickly moved to the bed, where Oscar pushed you lightly. Your knees collided with the hard wood of the bed, while allowing you to collapse under the soft sheets. You looked straight into his eyes as he threw off his shirt. Your skin burned between Oscar and the silk sheets that surrounded you on all sides. You looked up at him uncertainly, feeling him looking down at you and breathing loudly.

You reached into the zipper of his pants, unable to bear the sight of his erection, which looked so painful behind his black pants. He exhaled sharply, closing his eyes, and you could feel him tremble. He looked down at you, his eyes dark and full of hunger.

"I've wanted you for so long." he murmured, his voice rough. "I've always wanted only you"

Your hands faltered as you undid the button and tugged at the zipper. He reached down and helped, his fingers brushing yours, sending a shiver of anticipation through you. When he pushed his pants and underwear down, freeing his erection, your breath caught in your throat. He was thick and hard, and the sight of him made your pulse race.

Oscar's breathing deepened as you knelt in front of him, changing your positions, and your hands touched him for the first time. He groaned and grabbed the bed sheets tightly, tilting his head back.

You wrapped your hand around him, and your touch was teasing, even unbearable.

You looked at him, and your lips parted in a gentle smile, knowing that he only felt that way because of you. Then you leaned in to place your first kiss on his tip, and your tongue slid out to taste him. He tasted salty, and a little musky, but not unpleasant. It was a taste you knew you would grow to love, because it was his. "Fuck, yes," he groaned, his voice strained. You closed your eyes, letting the sounds he made guide you. You were tentative at first, slowly getting used to the unfamiliar sensation, but then his hand settled on the back of your head, urging you on. You took him deeper, and the feeling of him filling your mouth, of his cock sliding across your tongue, was intoxicating. You hummed, and the vibration elicited another low moan from him. "So good," he murmured, his voice low and full of heat.

His head fell back onto the bedding, though he tried to maintain eye contact with you. You set a steady rhythm, and your lips worked at the same pace as your hands, looking at his body from under your lashes. Seeing his reaction, you quickened your pace and your movements became more confident. You let him slide deeper into your throat, to which Oscar involuntarily moved his hips, but he didn't want to force you into anything.

You pulled away from him for a moment, feeling how his stomach and thighs stretched, under the touch of your hands. Oscar breathed deeply, allowing himself to look at you. You kept him on edge, starting over by licking slowly along his length.

“Do you like that?” you giggled, however, seeing his reaction and the hand that gently touched your cheek

She giggled quietly before taking him back into her mouth, her tongue working expertly as she brought him closer to the edge. Oscar’s breaths became faster, and his grip on her hair tightened as his muscles tensed.

“I'm close,” he warned, his voice strained as he tried to restrain himself.

You didn't relent, continuing to drive him over the edge, the pleasure building in your core at the thought of what was to come. His cock twitched in your mouth, and his thighs shook as he finally came, spilling himself into your throat. You swallowed every last drop, the taste of him coating your tongue and throat, the heat of his release warming your insides.

Without hesitation, Oscar drew you right to him, clinging to your lips as never before. He could feel himself there, yet it did not bother him at all. What's more, he felt more excitement when he knew he could do it with you. He was happy that you were there and not someone else.

After a while, he rolled over, pinning you beneath him. He kissed the hollow of your throat, then trailed kisses down to your chest. Your heart pounded against his lips, and he couldn't get enough. His hand cupped one of your breasts, kneading the flesh and brushing his thumb across the nipple. "I want to taste you," he said, his voice husky. "Make you feel so good" He lowered himself down, taking a hardened bud into his mouth and sucking gently. You moaned, arching your back, and he took the opportunity to reach behind and unclasp your bra. It fell away, and his hand moved to your other breast, kneading and teasing. He kissed and sucked, working his way down until he reached the waistband of your panties.

He hesitated a moment, looking into your eyes. He knew that you were already in a place from which there was no way out. Too much had happened this evening. However, he needed to know, he needed to know if you were sure you didn't regret it.

“Are you sure?” he asked, stroking your belly.

“I am so sure,” you groaned, pushing your hips out to him. You needed him, as soon as possible.

“Have you always been so beautiful?” he muttered to himself, not breaking eye contact with you.

He tugged at the waistband of your lace panties, and the material slid down your legs. Your skin tingled with impatience, and the cool air brushed your heated flesh.

Oscar paused for a moment, admiring the view. He had never seen anything so beautiful. He put his hands on your knees, gently spreading them apart. You felt vulnerable, exposed, but not ashamed. Not in front of him.

He looked at you, absorbing every detail. His touch was gentle as he moved his fingers along your inner thighs, making you shiver. When his fingers reached your center, you gasped, the anticipation was almost too much.

“God, you're so wet” - he moaned, sliding his fingers over your slippery folds.

Your back arched as his finger touched your clit, sending a wave of pleasure through you.

“Mhm” you moaned, squeezing the sheet tightly.

He continued teasing you, sliding his fingers through your folds and rubbing circles around your clit. Your hips moved, and you tried to control yourself, but it was too good, too much.

It didn't take much for you to start shaking under his touch. Oscar instinctively touched you, simultaneously licking and sucking the most sensitive spot on your body. His fingers did not slow down inside you, preparing you for himself. Your body squirmed beneath him, and you let yourself know loudly how well he was treating you.

"Come for me,beautiful" he said, his voice muffled by his actions. His tongue was relentless, and his fingers were curled perfectly inside you. The pleasure was building, coiling tightly in your core, and you were right on the edge. You cried out as your climax hit, crashing through you and sending you spiraling. Oscar groaned, tasting the evidence of your pleasure, and his fingers didn't slow.

"Please, fuck me already" you muttered, pushing your hips more into his face.

You didn't have to beg him for long. Oscar even immediately rose, hovering over you. Your faces were centimeters apart, and in one moment you were already so close that you didn't wait and caught his face in your hands, biting his lower lip as you kissed each other greedily, trying to gain as much as you could from it.

It seemed as if the moment froze when you separated from each other for a moment. Your bodies were centimeters apart, and the space between you pulsed with electricity. Your eyes met his, and the intensity of his dark gaze made you shudder.

Oscar reached involuntarily to the nightstand, where he had condoms. This was not his invention, Lando had pressed them on him earlier, being the number one fan of your relationship.

You felt the warmth of his body, his presence and the scent surrounding you. You reached for him, placing your hand on his chest. His gaze involuntarily softened and he smiled at you, positioning himself between your legs.

“Ready?" - he asked, his voice strained with desire.

You nodded, unable to find the words. A moment later, a loud moan left your lips as Oscar slowly entered you, letting you get used to the feeling. You clung to him, trying to adjust to his size. It had been a while since anyone had been inside you, and despite appearances, Oscar was bigger than most.

“Oh God,” he moaned, burying his face in your neck as he filled you completely. “Is alright?”

“Better than alright” you purred, kissing him on the lips and pushed your hips out to meet him, encouraging him to start moving inside you.

You felt the warmth of his body, his presence and the scent surrounding you. You reached for him, placing your hand on his chest. His gaze involuntarily softened and he smiled at you, positioning himself between your legs.

Oscar slid out and then slowly pushed back in, moaning. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

You groaned, arching your back, and his thrusts became more frantic and his movements less controlled.

“Faster,” you breathed, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him even closer to you.

Oscar nodded, and his lips descended to your neck. He kissed, caressed and nibbled you, leaving marks on your neck that were to be more visible the next day. He sped up, and the pleasure between you grew, coiling tight inside you. Your hips worked together, leading you to your desired fulfillment. His hands were everywhere exploring your body and touching every inch of your exposed skin.

“Oscar, please,” you moaned, unsure of what you were asking.

His movements were erratic and his thrusts deeper, hitting you just right. One of his hands descended to your clit, making you cling to him even more. His thumb did magical things, making you even scream from the caress on his arm, which definitely muffled some of your sounds.

"I'm close," he groaned, his thrusts becoming faster and more desperate.

"Me too," you breathed, feeling the pleasure building and the tight coiling inside you.

With one last thrust, he pushed you over the edge, sending you spiraling into oblivion. His fingers continued to work your clit, his mouth never leaving yours, exploring it with the utmost finesse. His movements were increasingly sloppy as he plunged in and out of you, letting you fill to the brim.

The pleasure was overwhelming, and the feeling of him pulsing inside you sent another wave of ecstasy through you. You writhed beneath him, and Oscar continued to worship you until the orgasm had worn off of you. Your bodies were pressed together, both slick with sweat, and you clung to each other as you came down from your high.

After a moment, Oscar carefully pulled out of you, the loss of his warmth making you shiver. You hadn’t felt this empty in a long time. He got rid of the condom, then returned, pulling the covers over both of you.

He held you close, and you felt safe and secure in his arms. You snuggled against his chest, breathing in his scent and feeling his heartbeat.

“I don’t regret it,” you said, looking up into his dark eyes.

You ran your fingers down his smooth chest, tracing marks between his muscles. He was as hot as you were—and the alcohol still lingered in the air.

“Me neither,” he nodded, stroking your hair. “And I never will. Lando was right."

"With what?" you asked, watching him chuckle.

"With me being stupid and not telling you before that i like you," he mumbled, pulling you closer to him and cradling your head to his chest.

"Everyone knew," you giggled, wrapping your arms around his waist. "You're not as smooth as you sometimes think."

A/N: please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

well, well - first smut about Oscar coming from beneath my fingers. i hope you like it! feedback is always welcome, love you <3

[redeyeyuna]

WHEN THE CAMS ARE OFF

So, Nandor and Guillermo are canonically doing some things when when they're not being filmed. With knowing this, I wanted to recap a few things from the season.

This post will mainly focus on how Nandor in particular handled himself subliminally towards the camera in certain situations. Also, that Guillermo faked to leave the vampires in E11 just for the documentary got me thinking which other things could be made up too. Giving a false view of facts just to make the audience think otherwise or to distract them from something specific... This specific thing they wanted to keep private, and didn't want it to be anyone else's business. Cause they wanted to solve and figure it out for themselves without having it exploited to the full in front of the camera. And this is the relationship development (secret affair) between Nandor and Guillermo that ran its course and has been cooked in the background during the sixth season.

[Sorry in advance for grammar mistakes and typos. English is not my first language]

The first hint is alreay in the first episode!

Nandor necessarily has to emphasize that he hasn’t seen Guillermo since he left, and Guillermo immediately throws in that he is telling the truth. But Nadja seems already to know what’s going on between these two idiots.

Also, Nandor trying to help Guillermo by searching for a flat and then suggest him to move into the VERY NEAR garden shed… A practical temporary solution if you don't want to be disturbed by the other housemates. I can well imagine that Nandor already thought of a better place for the two of them at this time. *Caugh* Secret underground lair *Caugh*

/|\ ^._.^ /|\

What about Nandor having a crush on the Guide?

... did he really ever have that, though?😏 What if Nandor’s crush on the Guide was made up by himself just for the documentary to distract the crew/viewers from himself and Guillermo, so that they don't keep following them to catch some shots? Yes, I know Nandor’s sudden crush on the Guide was at first caused by the sleep hypnosis… But for Nadja, the hypnosis seemed like a dream… Perhaps Nandor also thought he had dreamt that he suddenly had a crush on the Guide (or maybe Guillermo just told him) and Nandor was like: “You know what? That’s perfect! I use this to distract the doc crew and viewers from me and Guillermo!”

Nandor had one or more love interest in almost every season that he had a crush on. Why should it be any different now?

Due to this the film crew weren’t focussed on following them and wouldn’t wondering if Nandor could actually have something going on with Guillermo. Nandor’s crush on the Guide in general seemed very odd and just pretended for the camera/viewers. Over time, it seemed to appear more and more obviously and artificially.

In E4 "The Railroad" before Nandor said goodbye to the Guide, he looked suspiciously over his shoulder before making his flirtatious move towards her. It seemed as if he was aiming at it. Shouldn't he have been eyeing up his crush instead of making sure he was filmed flirting?

In E7 "March Mandess" Nandor looked very obviously into the camera during the scene used for the flashback, while Nandor is talking to Charmaine about the guide.

I also wonder why it was so important to Nandor that Charmaine would keep the thing of him and the guide to herself. Cause it’s made up and he just mentioned that he would has a crush on someone so that the film crew could add flashback? Generally, threatening to kill her in her sleep just because of that felt a bit too excessive, doesn’t it?

When the Guide finally rejects him perfectly in E9 “Come Out and Play” (you go, Girl!), Nandor seemed to fully ignore her destruction she has thrown at him.

He purposely ignored what she said. Even though he is normally so easily outraged. Especially after these true words that his supposedly "big love" said to him, he should’ve been at least a bit upset.  

Just remember how devastated he was, when Gail rejects him, and she had rejected him way more nicely.

And please just directly compare Nandor’s “look of love” towards the Guide with how he looked at Guillermo in E3…

And the Oscar-worthy performance, in which Nandor fell on his knees saying overdramatically that the Baron should take his life instead of the Guide seemed totally forced.

Also, Nandor knew very well that the Baron wouldn't have killed anyone…

In E11 “The Finale” Nandor and the Guide is only a short topic at the beginning of the episode, when Nadja asked him if Laszlo could use some parts of the Guide for the Monster. Nandor didn't seem to be listening anyway with his mind somewhere else.

After it was announced that the film crew wanted to end the documentary, he didn't even flirt or interact more intensely with the guide in the entire episode.  As if he no longer needed to fool anyone now that he knew the movie crew was leaving.

/|\ ^._.^ /|\

What about Nandor still saying mean things towards Guillermo?

I also want to cover up the thing of Nandor remaining to say mean things towards Guillermo and wiping his hand on him after the intense hand clasp cause it was a bit clamy.

I I have read criticism of it in some WWDITS negatively posts. And this opinion is valid, no question. But I could imagine that Nandor only continued to do this for the camera, or it is just a normal thing between them cause they are a very fucked up toxic couple anyway ;)

Look at the slightly unsettled grin on Nandor's face when he gave towards the camera. As if he was worried that this very unusually long-lasting hand clasp could lead to more while the camera is still rolling. So, he had to come up with a quick excuse to end it. This facial expression from Nandor looking directly into the camera is so different from the looks he gave to the camera while interacting with the guide. It is just a short glace towards the lens before he puts his eyes back to Guillermo.

Guillermo looked as if he was sad not to express his gratitude to Nandor the way he would like to (cause of cameras as well maybe?)

/|\ ^._.^ /|\

The Finale

Nandor was so obviously happy that the documentary crew were going to leave. He was excited to shoot B-roll footage all the time and he sassily said this when Nadja told him about Guillermo being sad about the end of the documentary:

Looks like someone was really excited to no longer be constantly followed by the camera so that they could continue to focus on "other things"... Also, this reference to the will they/won’t they dynamic of Nandermo is insane.

Colin and Nadja suspecting Guillermo of having a secret relationship with one of the crew members could be an indirectly hint of a secret relationship with Nandor as well. @barren-heart already did this post about it which has made me to create this summary (hope you don't mind me mentioning you here :3).

Nadja possibly saw Guillermo making out with someone who looks like Nandor and maybe it was actually just Nandor!

She just don’t recognised it that fast cause they might quickly disappeared somewhere OR it was just another hint from Nadja, because she knew. She had become a bit of a nandermo shipper this season ;)

In the last speech of Nandor for the documentary it was so clearly to notice that the lair is only a metaphor for Nandor’s private life with Guillermo after the film crew would be gone...

This directly glance into the camera during the speech pause... As if he explicit wanted to make clear that he wanted to say something different when the cameras would be off.

And Guillermo’s reaction during that scene is so fucking funny. He seemed to have a moment of hope that Nandor would actually reveal their affair, but no it is the superhero lair again.

/|\ ^._.^ /|\

The Final Scene

In the background, there was played the same song that was used in the pilot episode for the post-credits. I like that really much!

🎶“Tonight in the Moonlight” (Morrie Morrison Orchestra)🎶 Tonight in the moonlight When silver blends with blue We'll do the thing all lovers do Lingering on till dawn breaks through Tonight in the moonlight with you

And again that offensive look into the camera from Nandor in the middle of his speech and Guillermo trying to get something specific out of him...

If, by this time, someone still does not consider Nandermo to be canon, then I can no longer help them xD

Subtext is their thing! That's always been the case throughout all the seasons! And in such a way that it was already too subtle to be subtext.

However, even Guillermos love sick puppy eyes and his cute “What about one… one of the other reasons?" didn't caused Nandor to spit it out. He bravely continued to avoid eye contact and was trying very hard not to become weak.

When Guillermo said that he won’t be here anymore after Nandor would wake up, Nandor’s description of their secret lair feels forced, which again supports the thesis of an actual love cave: “But what about us joining forces and fighting crime in a coequal partnership? Operating out of a hidden underground lair accessible exclusively by a top-secret coffin elevator.”

Of course, Nandor believed that Guillermo wouldn't leave and was just putting on a show for the camera. He knows his Guillermo better than anyone else...

And THIS look of Nandor’s face when he wanted Guillermo to sit with him inside his coffin comparing with a confirming deep voicing “Mm-hmm”

Oh boy, as if they are going to do very spicy things in that lair...

Then finally the relevation of Nandor’s masterpiece...

During the whole season Guillermo had a problem with sexual things in front of the camera while Nandor had a problem with expressing deep and meaningful feelings while the crew was filming. And because of that they prefer do both things IN THE SHADOWS!

/|\ ^._.^ /|\

So, this my view of Season 6 and the Finale and also my special tribute to my most favorute show! 🦇♥️

It has become longer than expected. Thank’s to everyone who has taken the time to read it this far!