#and my fucking god my mother is turning into such a shit person. where is the mother that loved me.

[oh-mother-i-cannot-weave]

ugly sobbing

[kissitbttr]

this is miguel o’hara being a dick

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem!reader

-

miguel knows he’s fucked.

he has been neglecting you, putting his work above your needs and ditched on dates he can’t count with his fingers. at first you were okay, given that you’re dating such a busy man like him, you understand the consequences.

but you’ve had enough. there were nights where you cooked dinner, only to be left untouched by him or where you softly cried yourself in the middle of the night because he was still out. the only time he comes home is when you’re already asleep, then he left to the HQ in the morning before you’ve gotten the chance to wake up.

you confronted him about this. paid a visit to his office before going to work. Jess and Lyla had warned you to not disturb him but you managed to make them back off with a single frightening look.

yes. they are scared of you. a lot of them are. they do not want to test you at all.

the moment you stepped into his office, he didn’t even bother to look. eyes were just too focused on his work that he assumed Jess was the one who walked in.

“oh, you’re fucking your co-worker now?” your tone laced with sarcasm and anger with arms crossed over your chest,

hearing the familiar voice, he had never whipped his head so fast. “y/n? what are you doing here?”

“well” you start, heels clicking against the floor as you step towards him. “since my boyfriend has been MIA for almost a week i figured i should stopped by.”

his head shook, turning his focus back to what he thought mattered most. “not right now, mi amor. I’m working.”

“i can see that, dumbass” you respond in a cold tone. frowning as to why he couldn’t take one second off from that god damn screen. “you and me are going to get breakfast together. now. before i go to work.”

“i told you I can’t. I’m busy” he replies, brushing you off with his hand. “next time.”

“i’m a busy woman too!” your voice shakes, wanting so bad to scream at him and throw that tiny desk at his head. “but I always want to make time for you, Miguel!”

no response. he muttered something under his breath but you couldn’t hear him.

un-fucking-believable

“you’re such a fucking asshole, you know that?” tone laced with venom as you spit the words. clenching your fists by your side as you struggle to hold back the tears. “i feel like this relationship is one sided, the only person that is truly making an effort is me. you don’t—“

Miguel couldn’t take it anymore. he threw a desk and it went flying, thankfully it didn’t hit you. though your eyes went wide in shock, a loud gasp left your lips as you covered your mouth with your hands.

“you’re right! I don’t! I don’t care about some silly little fucking breakfast when the universe depends on me!” he pointed at himself as his irises turned red when he looked at you. his breathing went heavy and he still wasn’t aware how scared you were at him at that point.

“do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to keep all this shit together?! how many people will die if i don’t do what i gotta do! I don’t always like it, y/n but i have to do it! and here you are trying to play house with me it’s fucking pathetic!” he scoffed, putting his hands on hips.

oh he did not realize how much his words hurt.

the room was filled with silence. you stared at him in disbelief but remained a stoic expression. you were taught better than to be weak before any men. Miguel was no exception. your mother would be disappointed if you let a man win.

“wow” you breathed, nodding. “that was a good speech actually, the longest one I’ve ever heard you talking” you tried to sound sarcastic but how you felt and how you sounded failed you.

Miguel was quick to notice this and his features quickly soften. he reached out quickly to hold you.

“cariño i—“

“I’m returning back to my apartment by five. do not fucking look for me” it was final. the way you said it, how your eyes remained empty as you spoke to him. Miguel knew better than to test you,

but he just did and now he’s paying the price,

his heart broke when he heard you said that. you were so tired of him and you just wanted him back. you want your man back but he couldn’t see how that mattered to you.

“baby, please—“

you held your hand as you turned around. “don’t you even think about sending Jess or Miles my way.”

with that you walked out of his office without uttering another word. leaving him speechless and heartbroken. he knew better than to follow you out, it would just make things worse. he was just going to let you cool off.

he didn’t know how long it was gonna take.

it has been almost a month that you two have been living separately. and he’s losing his mind. he can’t sleep, he can’t eat, he can barely walk out of the house without seeing all the things that remind him of you. the team even sensed something is wrong because he has been more short tempered than before and it almost made the rest of spider society terrified of talking to him.

he’s gotten more violent, that’s for sure. every enemy he encountered, he would leave them bleed with their faces unrecognizable. it was his way of taking his stress out. not exactly healthy but it’ll do for now.

but he thinks that this has gotten too far. he misses you terribly, your scent, your laugh, your voice, your body, and mostly… your pussy

God, the amount of times he sniffed your panties while he jacked off as the image of you clouded his mind was simply not enough.

and now here he stands before your apartment door. dressed nicely in a white buttoned up shirt with his sleeves rolled to the elbows and a pair of black pants. his ring cladded fingers nervously grip around the boquete as the other hand shoved into his pocket.

Miguel had never been this nervous before. toeing his shoes and tapping his toes against the floor rapidly. it’s probably already been fifteen minutes that he’s standing like that staring at your door. thinking far too carefully what he wants to say.

he decides it’s now or never as he raises his fist and knock softly against the wooden door, hoping that you’re home.

“coming!” he hears your voice, his stomach somersaults hearing that after what it felt like a thousand year. “i am so hungry, why are you delivery guys always taking so—“

soon as you open the door, you freeze. definitely not the takeout delivery boy and instead it’s the one person you’ve been avoiding for God knows how long.

Miguel’s mouth hangs open slightly as he slowly taking in the sight of the gorgeous woman before him. you put on your favorite lime green night gown that stops just above your knees with a white silky robe, your hair fall down gracefully. natural curls framing your face. eyes glinting under the light, he almost falls to his knees and thank the Lord for your existence.

beauty doesn’t even begin to describe how you look tonight.

Miguel realizes how he probably looks like an idiot. clearing his throat to regain his composure as he smiles awkwardly at you. “Hi.”

you stare at him as your features then showcase a displeased expression. “what are you doing here?”

you’re leaning your body against the doorframe, arms crossed in annoyance. eyes flickering from his face to the flowers he’s holding and back up to his eyes. as much as you hate to see him, you can’t help that little feeling of butterflies in your stomach when you see the flowers he’s holding.

tulips. your favorite

he takes a one step closer to your frame, breathing out a sigh as he looks down at you. “I’m sorry, mi amor.”

that earns a scoff from you, looking away. “good start.”

“i was a horrible boyfriend.” he admits, gulping as he sees how sadness and exhaustion taking over your face just like that. “you don’t deserve that. what i said to you that day… none of it was true. you were not… pathetic, nor were the idea of having breakfast together… I appreciate every single thing we’ve done together, baby. believe me, por favor…”

a hard stare is the only thing he gets from you. the way your lips form into an angry pout and how your eyes seem to get tired and bored from his confession.

you’re a difficult person to please. he knows that.

“i know that being stress is no excuse of what I’ve done… I should’ve—fuck I should’ve done better. a month without you was like hell, mi corazon. ay, me sentí como si estuviera perdiendo la cabeza.” he sighs in frustration, head shaking as he recalls many sleepless nights. “i love you so so much. i do not want to go through that again … i know that it’s going to take forever to get your trust back and everything, but i swear on my mother’s grave that i—“

“stop talking”

he shuts his mouth after that. eyes looking up to you when he realizes you’re talking to him after a prolonged silence that’s taking over.

seeing how broken he looks almost feels like your heart got plucked. as mean as you are or as much as you wanted to look like you don’t care, you can’t when it comes to Miguel. you love this man far too much and despite his cold cold persona, that’s a huge sweetheart underneath.

“you hurt me, Miguel.” eyes casting down the floor as you try to keep your voice low. “you threw a desk to my direction…”

he shakes his head at that, resisting the urge to cradle your cheek. “lo siento, mi amor. I didn’t mean—“

“yes i know, i heard you.” you sigh, eyes closed momentarily. “you scared me”

Miguel feels his heart breaks when he hears how your voice breaks. he carefully lifts his hand to softly palm your cheek, thumb grazing against the skin. he exhales a soft sigh when you aren’t pushing him off.

“I didn’t mean to do that to you, my love. fuck, I’ve hurt you. i will never forgive myself for that. i was supposed to be the one who protect you and i was being a huge asshole.”

“a cute one though” you pout at him,

he chuckles at that, feeling the tension between you two are finally cutting down. “you’re too sweet, baby… after all i had done to you”

“nothing compared to how you treated me for the past two and a half years.” you smile sweetly at him, hand wrapping around his wrist. feeling at home once he holds you in his palm. “still a good man.”

he shakes his head in disagreement. “no, no that doesn’t excuse it… i was in the wrong.”

you hum in response, looking at the pretty flowers still in his hand. “are those for me?”

he nods with a smile, “you’re my only woman, no?”

you bite the inside of your cheek as you smile, taking it from his grasp as you sniff the pretty petals. “i love them. thank you.”

he once again goes quiet, taking another step closer. eyes looking down at your glossy lips and he can’t take it anymore. he doesn’t care if he’s stepping boundaries here. “i miss you, cariño. can i show you just how much?”

his offer sends shiver down your spine, making it impossible for you to stand still. Miguel always knows your sweet spot, how to make your knees feel wobbly without having him to touch you.

you do miss him touching you,

“i have a ballet class to teach tomorrow, papi. Saturday morning class, you remember ?” a pout formed on your lips, yet you still allow him to pull you close to him as he closes the door behind. “plus don’t you have work too? i bet Jess needs you.”

Migue nearly growls at you calling him ‘papi’. his jeans growing tight as you look up to him with doe eyes that you know he loves. though sometimes, you don’t understand the effect you have on him.

“that can wait… you’re more important to me than anything” he whispers, giving your open hand a kiss. large palm coming down to grip your waist, giving it a light squeeze. “do you want me too?”

you respond with a slow nod, biting back a smile as you interlock your hand with his pulling him inside. his smirk grows wider as he leans over to capture your mouth in his,

“let me fuck you real good then we can come home, eh mi vida?” he promises against your lips, slipping your soft silky robe off of you before picking you up in bridal style causing to shriek and giggle,

“i wanna hear you scream my name.”

-

part 2?

[everyonewooeverywhere]

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ farmhand!mingyu x farmer's daughter!reader

note ✭ this is very much inspired by the mingyu pictured above. (also i don't mention it explicitly, but girly's family is lowkey rich)

synopsis ✭ when your dad hires a hot new farm hand, you can't keep your hands off of him.

content/genre ✭ smut (18+ mdni)

word count ✭ 2.9k

warnings ✭ smut, mingyu and reader are horny af, outside sex (no one else sees them though), no prep, overall horny shenanigans i guess 🤷‍♀️, alcohol consumption, tipsy sex (they're not depicted as drunk, but they did have a couple drinks)

✭✭✭✭

Every time your father hired a new farmhand, they were always the same. While they never disappointed in the build department (they were always jacked, but that was kind of a requirement of the job), but they all looked identical. They wore the same brown scuffed boots. They had their hair in the same floppy cut with the same dirty blonde color. 

For a couple of summers through your teens, it had been fun. Your father would hire him after the final school bell rang for the summer. You’d introduce yourself to him when your father was nowhere in sight, and you’d spend the rest of the summer sneaking around with him and having your fun. When summer finally ended and school began, you’d bid him farewell and never speak to him again, and your father was none the wiser.

And it was fun! The first two times. Then every summer turned the same, and every single farm hand looked indistinguishable from the last with no discernible personality whatsoever. 

So, having just finished your second year of university, you were expecting more of the same. You’d have a gander, but you certainly weren’t expecting much from whoever your dad decided to hire this summer. 

“God, why couldn’t you have invited me to stay over at your house this summer? I’d take whatever hunk your dad decided to keep,” your best friend from school, Jennifer, whined over the phone as you pulled your car up the long driveway to your house.

“I did invite you, but you’re spending you’re leaving today for Spain, remember?”

“Yes, but y/n!” she whined again, “I need more muscly men in my life. This would be the perfect opportunity.”

“You’re gonna be in Spain for two months. I’m sure you’ll find at least one man muscular enough to fit your standard.”

“Yeah, whatever. You better have fun with this man without me.”

“Like I told you earlier, they’re so fucking boring. It’s not gonna happen.”

You put your car in park and began to gather up your purse and phone when you glanced up out the windshield to see probably the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life walking out your front door and toward your car. It was as if your severe doubts had summoned him.

Ever the chatterbox, Jennifer kept talking, “Well I’m just saying maybe you should keep an open mind. You never know what could happen. One magical night in the woods and you could be locked down for life. It’s just–”

“Jennie shut the fuck up.”

“Woah,” she seemed mildly offended, “sorry?”

“He’s hot Jennie. Like really hot. Not even a ten. Probably a twelve.”

“Ugh, you lucky bitch! I told you to keep an open mind,” you could hear her mother yelling at her in the background, “Oh shit. Girl, I have to go, but send pics! Please! I need to see the hunk you’re railing this summer.”

“Yeah, of course,” you mumbled while she hung up on you.

This man was really throwing you for a loop. Just based on appearance alone you could tell he was not the type of guy your dad usually hired. First and foremost, he was massive. Well over 6 feet tall and far more muscular than any guy you’d ever seen (and that was saying something), and the skin-tight black t-shirt he was wearing did nothing to hide it. His hair was dark and cropped, a far cry from the endless supply of shaggy blonde hairstyles you’d seen over the years. 

The cherry on top was when, after watching you stumble out of the car, he’d asked, “Where’s your luggage? I thought I’d help you carry it inside.”

“Oh,” you let out an awkward laugh, “It’s in the trunk. Thank you.”

“Of course,” he followed you around the back of your car and popped open the trunk, “I’m Mingyu by the way.” He stuck out a hand for you to shake it.

You grabbed the hand and he shook it with a firm squeeze. Holy fuck he has nice hands. “Y/n. It’s great to meet you Mingyu.”

There was no hiding the way you gawked at the way his muscles flexed when he carried your stuff inside.

✭✭✭✭

The idea of returning to your old ways was honestly exciting for you. Last night over Facetime Jennifer had gotten the whole rundown of your brief interaction with Mingyu. You fawned over his muscles, his cute lisp and the way he’d been such a gentleman to help you carry your luggage after what you assumed was a long day of work. 

She’d found his Instagram of course and found out that he was indeed just as attractive as you’d described (and he had cute friends too). 

This morning you felt more than ready to kick off what you predicted to be a great summer. And you weren’t starting slow either. You knew the routine of your father’s farmhands enough to know that Mingyu would start the day mowing the lawn around your house. He’d usually start later on Saturdays (today), too. Meaning that if you got out there by 10 am, he’d probably still be working his way around the lawn. Hopeful by the pool.

Which, by complete coincidence, is where you were. Laid out in your favorite bikini by the water. The dark sunglasses covering your eyes meant that your eyes were completely hidden, but it was obvious where you were looking. 

Not far from the pool, you could see Mingyu pushing the lawn mower through the grass of your backyard. The tight black t-shirt from yesterday was no more. Instead, he wore a white tank top that left his arms completely exposed. He glanced over at you a couple of times, but he never let his gaze linger long enough for you.

You watched him from your laid-out position in your pool chair for a good fifteen minutes before he disappeared into the shed, presumably to put the lawnmower away. While he was inside, you took a moment to stand and dip your toes in the water thoroughly enjoying the coolness of the water. It was nice, you had to admit, but you’d have to save that for later because, while you were distracted by the water, Mingyu had made his way to the fence that separated your pool from the rest of the yard. 

It was only when he cleared his throat that you noticed him standing there, leaning against the fence smiling at you with an eyebrow raised.

“Do you normally spend your mornings checking out your dad’s employees?” God his voice.

You stepped out of the pool, “Only when I think they’re worth my time.” You slid your sunglasses off your face and onto the top of your head as you approached the fence where Mingyu was standing.

“Charming. I’m assuming he hasn’t the slightest idea what you get up to, then?”

You laughed, “Of course not. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“So…” you brushed his forearm with the tips of your fingers, “What time do you get done?” You knew the answer of course, but it felt polite to ask.

“Seven thirty. Why? Hoping to get me alone?” He smirked

“I wouldn’t mind it.” You bit your lip as you no-so-subtly checked him out for the millionth time, “Meet me behind the shed at seven forty-five, ok? Don’t be late. I’ll bring booze.”

✭✭✭✭

Part of you wondered if he’d be there when you snuck out of your house at eight-fifteen. Yes, you were late, but that was part of the game. Your parents always went to bed early, and you were an adult. So getting out of the house unnoticed was no issue at all. If your dad noticed the six-pack missing from the garage fridge, you could just tell him you drank it or you could feign complete innocence. 

The weather was still warm despite it being completely dark outside, so your athletic shorts and oversized tee did just fine. You’d contemplated wearing a skirt but ultimately decided against it because you didn’t want him to think you’d give it up that easily. Even though you were already struggling greatly to contain your excitement.

He could hear the clinking of the glass beer bottles as you made your way to the shed through the freshly cut yard. As much as Mingyu would love to deny it, he hadn’t stopped thinking about you since this morning. Something about the way you were laid out in the sun this morning had left a permanent imprint on his mind. The secrecy of the situation was also incredibly appealing. It turned him on more than he’d like to admit, messing around with his boss’s incredibly hot daughter.

Mingyu wasn’t an idiot. He knew you were taking your sweet time on purpose. You’d made him wait half an hour just to see if he’d wait around for you that long. You wanted to see how bad he wanted it, and clearly, he wanted it pretty bad because you found him sitting on the bench behind the shed staring up at the stars.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

He laughed, “Sure you are.” He held out a hand.

You passed him a bottle as you sat down next to him.

“I thought maybe you’d changed your mind, but it seems you just enjoy the idea of making people wait for you.”

“Maybe,” you turned so your knees just barely brushed his thigh, “But you waited for me didn’t you?”

“Hey, maybe I just wanted free beer.” He gestured to the bottle in his hand.

“I know for a fact my dad pays you enough for you to afford your own beer.”

He laughed and leaned his head back against the shed, giving you a full view of his neck. You couldn’t help but imagine kissing his neck, leaving plenty of marks in your wake. “He sure does. It’s one of the many benefits.”

“What else do you like about the job?” You were genuinely curious about what was so appealing about doing nothing but manual labor for an entire summer. Even if the paycheck was really good.

He shrugged, “I don’t know. Gets me off my ass. Gives me something to do with my hands.”

“Oh? You good with your hands?”

“You just don’t let up do you?” He really did enjoy how insistent you were despite your attempts to make him pine after you by making him wait for you so long. 

“Not unless I’m asked to.”

You ended up talking with Mingyu for two hours. The two of you drank and talked about your lives, school, home, past flings, and relationships. By the time you two of you had finished off the six-pack you’d brought out, you felt as if you’d been out there forever. 

At some point, you’d put your legs over his lap. He caressed one of your calves with one hand while you played with the fingers of his other hand.

As much as you’d enjoyed this little conversation, the more you drank, the hotter he got, and you were hardly holding it together anymore. With every move of his hand on your calf, you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter.

You took the hand that was already in yours and placed it on your cheek, “Mingyu…” you whined looking up at him.

“What, baby?” his thumb stroked your cheek.

You straddled his lap, sitting back on his thighs and moving down his neck and to his chest, “can we stop talking for a little bit?”

“Oh?” he questioned, lightly placing his hand on your lower back under your shirt, “What do you suppose we do instead?”

“Can I kiss you?” You asked leaning further into him so that your chests were touching.

“You can do whatever you want, baby.”

That was all the confirmation you needed to lean completely into him and kiss him. The kiss was long and more passionate than any kiss you’d experienced from your past summer flings. His hands were on your ass, pulling you to hover over his crotch where you could obviously tell he was hard. And that would have made you smug if you hadn’t been sitting in your own arousal for at least an hour. 

You kissed down his neck just like you had previously imagined. He let out a deep moan with every mark and bite you made. You had failed to realize that one of his hands had left your ass until you felt a hand brush over your completely clothed pussy.

“Baby, as much as I love these cute little shorts, can I take them off of you?”

Nodding furiously, you leaned back, pulled yourself off of his lap and pulled off your shorts and shirt, setting them on the bench beside him. Of course, you weren’t wearing a bra, something Mingyu had noticed almost immediately when you’d sat down beside him. Before you made your way back to his lap, you reached for the hem of that stupid, useless white tank top that covered virtually nothing. You pulled it over his head with ease. 

“Wow–” you whispered.

He laughed and pulled you back into his lap, “As flattered as I am,” he ran a hand up your side, “I could say the same thing about you.”  

Before you could even think about how to respond Mingyu’s face was in your chest, feverishly placing kisses on your tits. He grabbed one with his hand and rolled the nipple between his fingers.

You gripped onto his hair and moaned softly. Your hips rolled over his clothed dick multiple times before he finally shucked off his jeans which had become uncomfortably tight. 

“Can I please fuck you now?” he asked.

“Please,” you begged completely forgoing the chance to tease him for his politeness.

You pulled down the waistband of his boxers and grabbed him. Running a thumb over the tip, you pulled his cock out and pumped it a couple of times. “God, baby. You better hurry up.”

He slid your panties to the side and ran a finger between your folds, “you sure you don’t want me to prep you?”

You shook your head. So much for making him wait. “I’ll be ok. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

He nodded and reached to grab a condom from his pocket. Of course, he’d come prepared. When he failed to open it fast enough, you snatched it out of his hands and ripped it open with your own teeth. You rolled it onto him after what felt like an agonizingly long amount of time. 

He positioned himself at your entrance and slid himself into you with relative ease. You threw your head back when he bottomed out. You covered your mouth in an attempt to keep yourself at least a little quiet. 

“F-fuck, Mingyu!”

“Shit, you’re so tight,” he grunted out, “I’m gonna need you to move, baby. Can you do that for me?” 

You nodded and gripped onto his shoulder. As you started bouncing up and down on his cock, he buried his face back in your chest, kissing and biting at your tits, collarbone, and neck. He left plenty of marks on your chest that were identical to the ones you’d left on his neck, maybe even darker. You had brought your own hand to your clit. Desperately trying to find your release. 

“Oh god Gyu, I’m so close,” you grabbed onto his hair.

He hissed from the stinging in his scalp, “Me too, angel, me too.” His face was in your neck when you’d finally reached your climax, and he followed immediately after.

You both sat there, chests heaving, for a couple of minutes, saying nothing.

“Wow,” was all he could say as he pulled you off his lap and helped you put your clothes back on, tossing the condom into the trash bin beside the bench. You made a mental note to take the trash out before your dad came out here tomorrow.

You laughed breathily, “You’re not so bad yourself.” 

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you into him. Your hands found their way to his chest instinctively. “Can I see you tomorrow night?”

“Oh, was that not enough for you?”

“God, no, that was perfect. But I wanna take care of you for real next time.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“I have a truck,” he nodded toward the red pickup truck in your driveway, “I can drive it down to the creek. The bed of the truck is actually pretty comfy when you put blankets and pillows down.”

Laughing, you said, “You want to fuck me in the woods.” He shook his head, “I wanna eat you out in the woods.”

God, this was gonna be a fun summer.

✭✭✭✭

“Girl, what!? It’s only been a day?” Jennifer’s voice rang through the phone. “Was it good?’

“For outside bench sex? Yeah, it was great. We’re seeing each other tomorrow night.”

She groaned, “Ugh, you lucky bitch. I’m so jealous.”

“What? No Spanish hunks?”

She shook her head, “not yet. But I’m hopeful!” 

“Do you still want updates, or are you gonna explode from jealousy?”

“No! Please keep me updated. I’m living vicariously through you.”

You laughed, “God you’re insufferable.”

“I know!” She batted her eyelashes at you, “You will keep me updated though, right.”

“Of course, how could I not.”

✭✭✭✭

thank you for reading! i knocked this shit out in two days (and you can probably tell 👀), but i'm genuinely surprised with myself.

anyway hope you enjoyed. reblog and like if you did! love hearing your thoughts

mwah~

[misserabella]

puppy love

dad’s bf shane mccutcheon x fem! reader

pt2

synopsis: you’ve liked your dad’s best friend for a very long time. the time has come when you can finally have her.

cw;; +18 content! minors dni!! (i’ll hunt you down), shane is 34, reader is 18 in the first part of the fic, alcohol and drug consumption (coke and weed) (don’t do this guys!!!!), fighting, reader being mean, TENSIONNNN, puking, kissing, tattoos, piercings, teasing, praising, degradation, voyeurism (kinda), oral sex (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), cum eating, hair pulling…

you’ve had this silly little crush on your dad’s best friend since you were a teenager.

how could you not? she was beautiful, and successful and so fucking hot… she was unique. you’ve never met anyone quite like shane mccutcheon. so free.

it was innocent at first. you’d always want to spend time with her. she was the person you looked up to after all. she taught you how to skate from a a very early age. she always cut your hair when you’d need a fresh cut, and dyed it even though when she knew your dad would give her hell for it just because you wanted to (she would say sorry, but she wasn’t). she gave you your first tattoo when you turned 16 in a place where your father wouldn’t see. a hummingbird, just like hers. “my birthday present for you, kid” she had said. you could still remember the feeling of her fingertips on your thighs and waist as she tattooed your hipbone. you had tried so hard to not blush and squirm, her touch electrifying.

you could feel butterflies every time your friends would ask you about her in recess, well-known looks being shared when you’d blush. and your knees would go weak when you’d see her at the entrance of your high-school after class, waiting for you leaning against her car with her charming smile. “hey kid.” she’d mess up your hair with one of her ringed hands, hugging you close to her chest. you’d push her away, acting pissed off, when in reality all you wanted was to hug her closer and bury your face in the crook of her neck. she always smelled so nice…

but you couldn’t keep her too close ‘cause then you’d notice the hickeys on her neck, and all those butterflies would die.

your father had you at a very early age, having to raise you all by himself since your mother decided to run away and leave you. and shane had been there since the first second that she had met your father, along with the whole group, helping him push through.

so when you realized that what you felt for her was more than something platonic… your whole world came crashing down on your shoulders.

eighteen and in love with a woman twice your age… so you slowly started to drift away. you’d act busy. you’d started going out frequently, doing drugs, drinking alcohol… getting wasted and sleeping with a bunch of girls to try and forget her.

of course, she’d always find you.

“oh my god…” you groaned, turning around to face your friend with wobbly legs and your heart on your throat. “shane’s here.” you had just left the club, completely drunk out of your mind and with hickeys all over your chest and neck. you couldn’t let her see you like this. you didn’t want to see her.

“what? where?” your friend inquired and you pointed with your eyes to the side and to your back. “fuck. what do we do?”

“don’t let her see me. please, lucile.”

“okay, let’s…” but then she ducked her head, eyes shot open. “oh shit. shit. shit. she saw me.”

“fuck!” you whispered, and at the same time you heard shane’s voice coming from behind you, calling out for you. you tried to ignore her, tried to act as if she wasn’t you who she was looking for, but she wouldn’t give up.

“hey! i’m talking to you!” your whole world started spinning when you felt her hand on your shoulder, turning you around so you could face her. “do you have any idea how worried your dad is? we’ve been looking like crazy for you.” her voice sounded harsh, and she looked pissed. it was when she noticed that you weren’t looking at her, but instead hiding your eyes that she took your face with her free hand, making you face her. “fuck… you’re high?” your eyes were reddish and half lided, pupils dilated. your makeup ruined, gloss smushed. she looked at your clothes, completely out of place, bruises on your skin. “let’s go.” she grabbed onto your wrist to pull you along, but you fought her. she growled your name, slowly.

“i’m not going anywhere. i’m having fun.” you slurred, taking a swing of the bottle of alcohol on your hand. your vision was blurry, and your heart was beating too loud. “hey!” you whined when she took it from you and threw it aside, making the glass break. you whistled at her pissed off look. “somebody needs to have a little bit of fun…” you muttered.

“you’ve had enough, i’m taking you home.” her voice was stern, green eyes angry.

“you’re not my dad.” you said, and she smirked.

“yeah. thank god i’m not, ‘cause if he saw you like this, he’d kill you. move.” you rolled your eyes. “don’t be a brat with me. i’m not putting up with that shit. car, now.” she ordered, and you finally moved, walking towards her car.

you hadn’t shared a word on the whole way and you frowned when she kept going straight instead of taking a turn when the street of your neighborhood came to your view. she noticed. “i’m taking you to my house. can’t let your father see you like this.” your stomach jumped at the thought of being alone with her on her beautiful house. you could still remember how soft her bed was, how everything smelled of her. it was making you nervous. you didn’t want to be alone with her. not when she looked this good and you were this drunk and high.

she parked right outside, turning off the engine and getting out of the car. you followed her up the stairs and inside her home, groaning when she turned the lights on and it hit your eyes.

“fuck.”

“what did you take?” she inquired and you giggled.

“what did i not take?” she crossed her arms over her chest and you rolled your eyes. “i don’t know. some weed. cocaine…” she rose one of her hands to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“jesus christ. why the fuck would you do that! are you insane?”

“oh, don’t act as if you hadn’t done it before… we all know shane heart breaker mccutcheon’s reputation.” you scoffed, and she squinted at you.

“and now you want to follow my steps?”

“maybe i do.” you shrugged.

“you’re acting stupid.” she sighed.

“and you’re acting fucking annoying.” you retorted, grabbing at the sides of your head when it throbbed. “ugh you’re making my head hurt.” your legs wobbled and if it weren’t for shane grabbing you, you’d have probably fell onto the floor.

“woah. are you okay?” you shook your head.

“i think… i’m going to…” you clasped your mouth shut with one of your hands and shane’s eyes quickly shot open before she was hurriedly guiding you to the toilet. you fell on your knees, puking your guts out. she grabbed your hair on a make-shift ponytail to make sure that it wouldn’t get dirty. she rubbed your back with her free hand.

“it’s okay, let it go. that’s it.” you groaned, feeling your stomach hurt. you didn’t want her to touch you, not on this state, but at the same time, you just wanted to lean on her touch and forget about everything.

“sorry.” you apologized, not really sure about what, maybe everything. she hushed you.

“it’s okay. don’t worry about it, okay? let it all out.” after a couple of minutes, you felt your dizziness subside, although you were still pretty high. “stay here, alright? i’m gonna go for some clothes you can change into.” you nodded, resting against the cold wall as you took deep breaths.

“fuck.”

you were cringing at the thought of shane seeing you like this, a complete fucking mess, just when she came back to the bathroom with some clothes on her hands.

“come on. let’s get you up.” she offered you her help to get up, hands on your hips to stabilize you as you took off your heels. “do you need help with-“ you shook your head.

“i’m fine.”

“are you sure?”

“shane. i’m fine.” you repeated, harshly, and she nodded. she wanted to understand. if you were acting like this it had to be due to something.

“alright… i’ll… i’ll be outside if you need me.” she nodded, and left the bathroom.

you sighed, leaning on the counter. you looked at the pile of clothes she had left you, and you took them. they were soft, and just as you imagined, they smelled like her.

you pulled over your head your dress, feeling the cold of the bathroom slide into your bones. your skin rose in goosebumps when you slid her shirt on, feeling caged in her and at the same time so free… you were surrounded by shane. and you were ashamed of yourself. you were supposed to be getting over her, not thinking about how much you liked having her on you. you were deep in thought when she knocked on the door. you had already pulled up your legs the shorts she had lent you.

“you okay in there?” she inquired through the other side, and you opened up for her.

“do you have some makeup remover i could use?” you inquired her, shying away from her green deep eyes.

“oh, yeah.” she passed through you, pulling it from the drawers of the sink along with some cotton wipes.

“thank you.” you muttered when she handed it to you.

“no problem.”

there was this… awkward tension in between the two of you. shane didn’t know what to say. she had noticed how lately you’d gone off the rails, but she didn’t really know why. it was your last year of high school. maybe you were just trying to have fun before college…? she was just worried about you.

you took off your makeup, and she stood there with you, cautious in case you felt like getting sick again.

you were still pretty high, although the dizziness of the alcohol had disappeared once you’d gotten it out of your system. suddenly, you felt this knot in your throat. shit. not now.

“hey… are you…? what’s wrong?” you shook your head, wiping away the first tear that fell from your eyes.

“nothing.” you muttered, but she wasn’t having it.

“come on, something must be going on for you to be like this. talk to me, sweetheart.” she pulled you into her arms, rubbing your back as you hid on the crook of her neck. “hm?” she took your face in between her hands, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“i love you.” you said, and she smiled.

“i love you too, kid.” you shook your head, interrupting her, your hands surrounding her wrists.

“i love you, shane.” she frowned, eyes shooting open in shock when she felt your lips on hers. your eyes were squeezed shut, heart beating harshly against your ribs. it was just a mere touch, two seconds of contact before she was softly pushing you away, breath fanning over your lips. your forehead collided with her chest. “i’m sorry.” you muttered, and shane hugged you, rubbing your back in soft circles. oh, sweet thoughtful shane.

“why don’t we get you in bed, hm?” she inquired, tenderly. she didn’t think too much of it. you were drunk, high and sad. this had all been a slip. a mistake. she had surely had many before. you nodded, and let her guide you to her bedroom. she always let you use her bed when you’d sleep over, using the sofa instead or sometimes sleeping with you when you were younger and would get scared.

“shane?” you inquired her as she made her way to the door.

“yeah?”

“do you think maybe…you could stay?”

she stood silent for a couple of seconds.

“yeah, sure.” she answered, and you moved to make some space for her. she laid on her back, and looked at you. “come here.” you got closer, and leaned on her chest, right above her heart, where you could hear her heartbeat. her hand laced on your hair, rubbing your scalp and brushing it for you to relax —something she has always done since you were little and helped you sleep—. you had to bite down on your lip and swallow your tears.

“good night, shane.” you whispered.

“good night, kid.” she answered.

the next morning. you were gone. and shane didn’t see you again.

-

4 years later…

“there’s my baby girl fresh out of college!!!” you chuckled at your dad’s excitement. you thanked the taxi driver who waved goodbye and started the car to drive away. “oh god, you’ve gotten so big!” you rolled your eyes, hugging him back as he squeezed you against his chest.

“dad… you saw me a couple of months ago!” you laughed and he grunted.

“kids grow so fast…” he sighed, shaking his head and you copied him, rolling your eyes. “come on! let’s get you inside!” he took your suitcase, pulling from it.

four years had passed since the last time you’d stepped on your city, even your house. that night after telling shane you’d loved her, you’d taken the offer one of your friends had given you to work for her during the summer in NY and left LA, later on having enrolled on the local college to continue your education. it was your dad who would come visit you on the holidays, since you’d promised yourself not to come back after you’d finally finished your degree to… disconnect. you needed change. needed to find yourself. and in reality, all of it was a simple excuse. you just needed to get away from shane. you couldn’t look her in the eyes after that night, couldn’t act as if nothing had happened and you hadn’t kissed her. couldn’t ignore the way your whole body had filled with euphoria and your stomach had blown up in butterflies.

so you ran. and did everything in your power to forget all about it. you had made new friends, met new people, dated, broke up, fucked, partied… you’d lived a brand new life away from her. and somehow…, it still felt like something was missing.

“dad… what’s all of this?” you inquired at the amount of snacks and beers decorating the isle of your kitchen. he guiltily smiled and you rose your eyebrows.

“i may of may have not invited some people to throw you a… comeback party?” you groaned.

“dad!”

“i know! but you know your aunt alice! she’s missed you so much… and angelica wouldn’t stop asking for you to bette and tina. so i thought that a little gathering wouldn’t kill anybody…” you sighed. “we’re just happy to have you back home, baby.”

you felt the itch. the need to ask about her. to say her name out loud after all this years. but you fought it.

“you’re right. i’m sorry. i’ve missed them too.” he hugged you again.

“why don’t you take a shower and get ready, hm? i’ll bring your luggage up your room for you. they’ll get here in an hour or so.” you nodded.

“okay. thanks dad.”

-

shane had been shocked to hear the drastic decision you’ve made in moving to new york. you’d packed and left the same day without even saying goodbye. she had tried calling you, of course she had. at least to try and get to know how you were doing over there in that immense city. but it’d always go straight to voice mail. your dad would tell her that it’s because you were real busy with school and your work. so she’d given you space. she had enough knowing through your father that you were alright. though she missed you. you were important for her. she adored you.

the years passed by quicker than she thought. she had taken over a couple of hair salons that now had her name, and sold her photography to great prices, giving her the chance to move to a better apartment. she hadn’t noticed the change that this years supposed for you ‘till she finally got to see you again, four years later.

you weren’t the same little teenager girl she once knew. you had grown up into this beautiful woman with radiant smile and vibrant eyes. you’d gotten a couple more tattoos, she could perfectly see the tramp stamp peeking from your low rise jeans, and outline the bars on your nipples though your tight top. jesus christ. when the hell had you gotten those?

you were wearing a beautiful lip gloss that made your lips pop, and black eyeshadow and waterline in your eyes. your nails were done in a deep shade of red, yet short.

shane had to take a deep breath when you finally noticed her, walking into your house as you took a beer from the kitchen. your dad and the group was outside by the pool, getting ready to eat some meat fresh out from the grill.

she looked good. why did she look so fucking good? and why was your heart going this crazy? for god’s sake, it had been four years already. you were sure you’d finally gotten it under control, but one look at her and those stupid butterflies were back, along with the memory of her soft lips and electrifying touch.

“well if it isn’t new york’s sweetheart…” she said as she finally reached you a smirk on her lips as she leaned on the isle, to what you scoffed. “it’s nice to see you, kid.” her voice was low, and silky. you wanted to groan. she sounded better than you remembered. but instead, you rolled your eyes, leaning on the other side of the isle to get closer.

“i’m not a kid anymore, shane.”

“yeah, i can see that.” she chuckled, eyes training on your body, eyeing you up and down when you turned around and asked:

“want a beer?”

“please.” you opened the fridge once again, bending over to get them from the last shelf, giving her the perfect view of your tattoo and ass. it read: heaven. “thanks.” she said when you handed it to her.

“no problem.” the two of you took a swing form the bottles, fresh beer spilling down your throat. somehow it didn’t help with how hot you were feeling.

“so tell me. how has new york treated you?” she inquired and you shrugged.

“it was alright. kinda busy with college.”

“oh yeah… as if college were everything you’ve been up to, huh?” she teased you, and you chuckled.

“what do you want to know, shane?” you squinted your eyes. “that the parties are amazing there? that the girls are hot?” she smiled.

“yeah, that’s more like it…” she drank again. there was this easy-going atmosphere in between the two of you. you liked it. you thought it would be harsher to face her. but she was shane. how could it be? she always made you feel safe. “see you’ve gotten more tattoos…” her eyes eyes your arms, where some of them stood. “i like them.”

“oh, yeah. have this friend back in the city that would do them for free if she could practice on me.” you laughed, showing them to her. she took your arm, soft fingertips drawing over their lines .

“well, she’s got talent, i’d give you that.” she whistled.

“yeah. taught me how to stick and poke and everything.” you laughed at her shocked expression.

“no fucking way… you tattoo?” you nodded.

“yeah, so if you ever want a new one just hit me up, i still owe you one.”

“true. the hummingbird. how’s it holding?” you pulled down your pants and panties to show it to her, soft skin in display. “might need a little ink.” she hummed, and you pushed your pants back to their spot. you might need something else.

shane tried to ignore the little speck of ink that she saw more towards your center when you pulled your pants down, but it left her with curiosity running through her veins.

you stared at each other, green eyes on yours for a couple of long seconds before she looked away, beer on hand. she couldn’t.

“where’s your dad?” she inquired, and you sighed.

“she’s out by the pool, getting the grill ready.” she nodded.

“see you later?” you nodded, and saw her go outside, being welcomed by her friends.

well… you were fucked.

-

summer in LA was hot. really hot. and shane prancing around your house with one of her wife beaters and tight jeans wasn’t of much help. you could see her arms bulge as she helped your dad put up a new relaxing space on your garden, where he’ll build a wooden ceiling and put up a few couches for you to relax by the pool.

you were currently taking a swim, small black bikini accentuating your perfect body. it was hard to say shane was having a great time.

“hey kid. enjoying the pool?” she inquired, wiping the sweat off her forehead. it was already almost night, the sunset already had been engulfed by the ocean.

you looked up at her, resting against the edge, cleavage on full and exposure.

“really. the water is so refreshing…” you smiled.

“shane!” your father called out for her. “i’m going out to buy some bear. want anything?” he inquired.

“marlboro reds?”

“got it.” she thanked him as he took his keys and left through the main door, leaving the two of you alone. you bit down on your lip at the thought of it.

“hey shane?” you muttered.

“yeah?”

“can i tell you something?”

“anything.” she nodded.

“bend over.” you whispered, and she followed, kneeling on one knee by the pool so she could get closer to you, and just as you were about to part your lips, your wet fingers gripped on her shirt, pulling her inside the pool. she was gasping for air as she came back up to the surface, wiping the water out of her face as you laughed so hard your stomach hurt. “oh god! you should have seen your face!!!”

“oh yeah? you think this is funny?” she chuckled, pointing at her wet clothes. the white wife beater let her nipples show now. you tried not to state too much.

“totally.” you nodded, taking a step back when she step closer.

“com’here.” she ordered, waving her hand.

“nah, i’m cool here.” you laughed, and shrieked when she jumped at you. “no!!”

“oh, so now the princess is begging for mercy, huh?” you sputtered as her fingers tickled you, grabbing at your sides. “how’s that? who’s laughing now, hm?” she muttered as you begged her to stop, trying to get rid of her hold. “yeah, that’s what i thought.” she left you breathless when she finally decided to let you go, although you two were close, your back against the wall of the pool.

you looked at her, and chuckled slightly at the messy state of her hair, which now stood completely drenched hiding her eyes and getting all over her face.

“what?”

“your hair. is… wait. let me.” your soft fingertips made contact with the skin of her face, pushing away the strands and behind her ear.

“thanks.” she muttered.

“you’re welcome.” you two stared at each other, realizing just how close you were. your eyes drifted to her chest, which rose and lowered in deep breaths, her perky nipples hard against the white of her tank top.

she stared at you. at your long eyelashes, flushed cheeks due to the lack of air and laughter and your glossy plump lips. somehow you two just ended closer, the hands that had tickled you still on your hips, burning your skin. your eyes met, and after a couple of seconds she looked away, clearing your throat and letting go of you, leaving you freezing.

“fuck. now i’m completely drenched.” she looked at her clothes.

“you could borrow some of mine.” you shrugged, and she scoffed. “what? i’m sure some of my clothes will fit you, shane. or do you want to get your leather seats wet?”

“fuck no.” her nose wrinkled up, and you chuckled.

“just what i thought.” you muttered, swimming towards the stairs and dipping your hair underneath the water one more time before getting out the pool. shane tried really hard to not stare at the perfect view of your ass. your dad would kill her. your dad will kill her. why was she even staring at you this way? for gods sake she had seen you grow up…

you turned around, and she quickly looked you in the eyes. “you coming or not.”

oh for sure.

“yeah.” she said before following after you.

-

“are you sure you know how to do this shit?” she inquired for like the eleventh time, and you rolled your eyes. “hey, i just want to make sure you don’t fuck it up, alright? i’ll live with it for the rest of my life.”

“shane, i’m positive. you’re not the first person i tattoo, alright?” you promised, getting the needles and ink ready.

“cool. cool.” she nodded, laying on your bed. your room stood frozen in your teenage years, full of books and pictures and posters. you even had your favorite music records (at least the ones you’ve had to leave behind for college). it gave you this nostalgic feeling that you couldn’t shake off your bones. your father was out with some of his friends, and you and shane had ended up meeting up to tattoo each other. “but-“ she tried and sit back up, but you pushed her down, pointing one of your fingers at her.

“shut the fuck up.” you ordered, and she rose her hands.

“okay.”

she was going for a simple design. a scorpion on her forearm. you’d done some before, so it would be easy. you’d also made a stencil for her, so you would be fine.

you prepped and disinfected everything, putting on your gloves. “okay. where do you exactly want it?” you inquired her, and she pointed at the place where she thought would look best and you nodded, placing the stencil there to let her see if she’d like it.

“yeah, i like it.” you nodded once again.

“alright. then i guess we’re ready. it won’t take a lot, if it hurts too much just let me know and we’ll take a break.” she scoffed.

“who do you think i am?” she sassily inquired and you rolled your eyes.

“hope you choke on your words, mccutcheon.” you shook your head, taking her arm and leaning over to start tattooing her.

“huh, you wish.” she smirked, taking a glimpse of your cleavage. she breathed deeply, squeezing her eyes shut. come on shane. focus.

those fucking nipple piercings… shit. no. don’t think about that.

you noticed her silence and you decided to check up on her.

“you alright?”

“hm?” she seemed distracted. how couldn’t she be? “oh yeah. don’t worry.” of course it wasn’t like she were thinking about your tits. absolutely not. “so… had any girlfriends in new york?” yeah, let’s change the subject.

you sighed and shrugged. “i mean… not really. messed up around but never got serious, you know what i mean?” she smirked, surprised.

“do tell…” you chuckled, playfully hitting her on the arm.

“what about you?” you inquired, trying to not sound so interested. although you were. you truly were.

“could say the same. you know me.” you nodded, and hid your excitement. so she was single.

she stared at you as you worked. fuck. you were so beautiful. new york had changed you so much. you had always been, but now, there was this… something about you she couldn’t put her finger on. she just knew she couldn’t pull her eyes away from you. and that was no good.

“okay. i’m done.” you smiled, wiping over the tattoo to stare at the end result.

“now that’s amazing.” she whistled, taking a look at it. it hadn’t hurt at all.

“told you…” you muttered and she scoffed.

“oh i’m sorry for being scared, you’re the first kid i let near me with a needle.” you rolled your eyes. there was that nickname again. kid.

did she really still looked at you like one?

she noticed your silence.

“hey. you okay?” you pushed away her touch, nodding.

“yeah, i’m fine.” no you were not. what the hell did you have to do for shane to look at you? would it always be like this? will you always be running after her? “so… you up for retouching my tattoo?” you asked and she nodded.

“yeah, sure. could i borrow your gun, though? i’m not that good at stick and poke.” you gave it to her, along with some ink, gloves and new needles.

you got up from your seat, unbuckling your pants. shane tried to not look at you as you pushed them down your thighs, leaving you in a pretty lace pair of panties. her eyes continuously drifted from you to the tattoo gun as you sat on your bed, legs spread as she sat in front of you. there was no comfortable way she could tattoo you in your room, and having her in between your legs, leaning over and so close to your barely clothed center somehow felt more intimate than the first time around. she looked at you as her fingertips made contact with the skin of your hip bone, carefully pulling your panties down just the slightest to disinfect the zone. your cheeks were burning up when her soft low voice caught your attention. “you ready?” you nodded. “alright. if you need me to stop just say the word.” and then there was the buzzing of the tattoo gun and that burning feeling of the needle breaking your skin. you hissed. you knew it was a sensitive spot, but you always forgot how sensitive.

you thanked god the tattoo was small, ‘cause you couldn’t really look at shane too much without thinking about things you shouldn’t be thinking about. she looked so good in between your legs, hair falling messily in her eyes, tongue sticking out and glossing her lips in concentration. the things you’ve thought about that tongue, the nights you’ve imagined her in this same exact position but with less clothing. this was turning you on. it shouldn’t be turning you on.

“fuck.” you groaned. and she looked at you.

“you’re doing good, just hold on a little bit more for me, alright?” you almost moaned. fuck. and now she was praising you. one particular harsh swipe of the needle almost had you gripping her hair. you could feel her breathing against your skin.

this was all too much.

“shane…” you sighed, your hips twitching upwards involuntarily due to the pain.

“i know baby, i know. i’m halfway there.”

you tried to hold in the need to move, but it hurt, and you were getting horny. there wasn’t much you could do. at one particular point, she had to harshly grip your hip with her free hand, pushing you against the duvet. “don’t move.” she ordered, and you bit down on your lip. holy fuck. this looked so much like those dreams you’d have about her…

you could feel your pussy throbbing.

shane was trying her best to keep her composure. but jesus christ, you were writhing under her, letting out this little pained sounds and you were just in a pair of panties and a tank top. it was making it hard for her. you were making it hard for her.

the room was sticky with tension. she could see the peeking of your pubic hair since she had pulled your underwear down, and your skin was so soft…

focus. focus. focus.

but then…

fuck. you were wet. you were soaked.

her green eyes met the wet patch forming on your panties, and she forgot what she was supposed to be doing. hell, she even forgot the fact that you were her best friend’s daughter.

you perked up at the feeling of her stoping with the tattoo.

“shane?” you called out for her, and then you were letting out this sound in between a moan and a gasp when you felt her fingers pushing in between your lips and over the cloth, slowly, teasingly. “oh fuck. what are you doing?” you gasped in a whisper, your hips rutting against her touch. she smirked.

“me? i’m not doing anything.” she looked at you, and slowly leaned closer to you, leaving this soft peck on your thigh. you shuddered. “tell me to stop…” she whispered. it was more like a begging. she needed you to tell her that this was wrong. that she shouldn’t be touching you right now. that it was a really stupid idea. she was your dad’s best friend. and yet…

“i can’t…” your hand laced on her hair when she started softly kissing your skin, lip in between your teeth. you wanted her. you’ve wanted her for so long… “please…”

you whimpered when her fingers bumped against your throbbing and sensitive clit, your hips bucking against her touch. “what’s this, hm?” your cheeks were beet red, thighs trembling under her green stare. “tell me baby, this all for me?” she inquired, leaving a wet kiss on your thigh and you nodded, muttering a ‘yes’ that had her short of breath.

your back arched when she kissed you on top of your panties, her tongue licking the arousal that dampened the lace. at the same time, her hands grabbed at the seam of your panties, slowly pulling them down your hips and thighs. that’s when she finally caught a glimpse of that tattoo that she had barely seen the day of your party. it was above your mound. and it said: ‘lucky you’.

shane smirked, chuckling. “lucky me…” your cheeks reddened, but all shyness and embarrassment disappeared when her fingers dipped in between your drooling folds, connected by strings of your arousal. shane felt her mouth watering. “such a pretty pussy.” you felt so exposed, but at the same time you just wanted to open up your legs for her, let her see every little crevice of you.

you let out this pornographic sweet moan when her tongue draw a long fat strip from your entrance to your clit, softly suckling on it and making your thighs squeeze her head, what made her groan and bury her face deeper into your pussy.

“fuck…” you cried out, your hands meeting her short messy dark hair, tugging at it. why did it felt so good?

she pushed your legs over her shoulders, her warm hands on your thighs as she sucked on your clit, sticking her tongue out for you to ride her face when you’d hump against her. that was until you felt one finger prodding against your hole, easily pushing inside your tight and warm walls due to how wet you were. “that’s it. open up for me, doll.” she hummed when you whimpered, starting to thrust it in and out of you, your arousal thick and white on her knuckles as you thrusted yourself on her finger and mouth.“taste so good…” she couldn’t get enough, eating you like a starved woman.

“shane.” you whined when she added her ring finger, stretching you out. and how could she resist when you sounded so sweet moaning her name? she just wanted to get more of those sounds out of you, make you cum over and over again until the only thing you could remember was her name.

she groaned. “look at you, fuck. so fucking pretty. what would your dad think, hm? her little girl letting his best friend fuck her like this.” you moaned, pulling from her hair. “oh you liked that, huh? like the idea of your daddy catching me with my tongue on your cunt, baby?” you blushed, embarrassed to like the idea of it, the adrenaline rushing through your veins making the pleasure enhance. her fingers constantly hitting your g spot had you so close to the edge… “of course you do…” she smirked, sucking on your clit. you cried out her name, your hips pushing against her mouth. “you close, princess?” you nodded, biting down on your lip. “cum for me, baby. cum on my face. i’ll clean it all up for you.” she muttered, licking at your folds before latching onto your clit. your back arched. that encouragement being all you needed to fall apart, thighs shaking as your high hit you like a tidal wave with a high pitched moan. she groaned at the taste of your white creamy cum on her tongue, lapping at it in need, the wet sounds of her tongue pushing into you and licking in between your lips filling your room. she kept finger-fucking you to help you ride off your orgasm, sucking at your clit to extend it.

you swore you could see stars on your room’s ceiling, thighs shaking and breathing ragged. it had been the best orgasm of your life.

shane finished cleaning you up, swallowing every last bit of your cum before pulling her fingers out of you and pushing them inside your mouth. her green eyes met yours as you cleaned them for her. and you could just think about the fact that you had just fucked your dad’s best friend.

and how much you wanted to do it again…

-

a/n; 😶‍🌫️

[dolldefiler]

[This is different, I’m not used to writing dominant women but I want to try my hand at w|w posts one day. Might have gone overboard with the colours? Feedback is always appreciated <3]

C/W: Incest, forced vibes

Your teacher called, princess. You’ve been a very bad girl lately, haven’t you? You’ve been playing truant all this time? What have you been up to? I can't believe you’d betray the trust your mother and I place in you. 

We’ve clearly been too lenient. I think it’s time we brought a little discipline back into the house. Honey, bend her over your knee. You will listen, young lady. Get on your father’s lap. Now… Good. Now, darling, spank the stupid girl.

Slap.

Like this, honey? Or should I hit her harder?

Spanking her harder might do her some good.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

Those pants are taking most of the hit. Take them off. Don’t you dare talk back to me. Stand up and take off your pants… Good. What? What the fuck? Honey, are you seeing this?

Princess… w-why aren’t you wearing any panties? What have you been doing? Have you been going out to... see people? You? My sweet little angel? Where did I go wrong?

I think it’s time to face it, darling. Our daughter’s grown up now. Since she’s decided she’s a grown-up now, we’ll have to treat her like one, won’t we? Just like… this. Oh stop screaming, I’m only grabbing your hair. 

Be quiet, princess. We’re doing this for your own good. Shit, baby, hold down the little slut. How’s that, sweetie? Do you like Daddy’s cock against your pretty cunny? Is that what you needed? Your father’s hard fucking cock?

Ugh, I can’t wait any longer. Here. Fuck her. Oh fuckkk, that’s so hot. I’m pushing my husband into our own baby. Harder, baby. The dumb whore can take a hard pounding from her Daddy.

God, she’s so fucking tight. You’re so fucking tight, kiddo. Your cunt’s practically clenching down on Daddy’s dick. You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted your parents to turn you into their personal cum dumpster. God, baby, look at her ass. It’s almost as big as yours.

If you think that’s good, look at her fucking tits. Look, they jiggle when I slap them. Slap, slap, slap. Look at her yelping in pain. You deserve this. Slap. How do you like being slapped across the face, you stupid mutt? I can’t fucking believe you’d play hooky so other people could enjoy your slutty little body. 

Shit, have you played with your asshole before? You’re taking my thumb-- UGH, shit, you’re taking my thumb easily. You have, haven’t you? I bet you’ve not had anything as big as your dad’s cock inside that slutty fuckhole of yours.

Later, baby. I want you to fucking breed the little bitch first. Maybe fucking our grandkids into her will teach her some responsibility. I’ve had enough of your stupid, crying face. Eat your mother out. Now. Fuck yes, just like that. OH SHIT--, wow, she’s amazing, baby. You need to use her fucking mouth later. 

Fuck, her cunt’s so fucking tight honey, I’m not going to last long.

Do it, honey! Breed the little bitch. Show her whose she is! Show her she can’t break the rules and expect to be let off lightly. Shit let me just-- look at that, the whore’s tongue still wants her Mommy’s pussy. Too bad, sweetie. Mommy’s going to lick daddy’s balls while he pumps you full of his sticky baby batter.

Fuck-- Honey, I’m going to cum. Your tongue, fuck. I can feel her cunt spasming on my dick, baby. I’M CUMMING. Take it, baby. Take it all. I’m filling up your tight pussy, kiddo. God, you feel so fucking good. Shit, I think she’s cumming on my dick, sweetie.

Oh shit, yes, I can taste it on your cock. I can taste our baby girl’s cum on your cock. Isn’t that fucking nasty? You gave our daughter your babies, you filthy perv. You know what I think? I think we should punish her more. What did you say about her asshole again?

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Nine — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Roza’s arrival in Windhaven brings some home truths crashing down on Reader. She just needs a hug, someone to talk to, but it all goes very, very wrong…

Word Count: 3k.

Warnings: None.

Chaos evades logic.

There is no rationality to be found here. No sense to be made of the ample feelings that begin to chew you up and spit you out.

All you know, as you lace your breeches up and correct yourself, is that you feel like you’ve been punched in the gut.

“Are you decent?” Roza calls, her back still to you.

You tie the last lace. Clear your throat. “All good.”

The closest person you’ve ever had to a mother figure turns on the spot. She’s absolutely beautiful — fucking glowing — her swollen belly visible through her thick coat, and her eyes alight with a quality you’ve never seen before.

Rhysand really is the mirror image of her.

“I actually cannot believe I just witnessed that.” She grouses. “And just when I thought the morning sickness had finally come to an end, too. My poor, poor eyes.”

Cassian makes a noise. “Roz, that’s a bit dramatic—”

“You be quiet.” She points a finger at him. “Your mouth has done quite enough tonight, thank you very much.”

The two of them stare at each other — Cassian wanting to be a little shit and push his luck, and Roza wanting to…

Well, to gouge her eyes out with a rusty spoon, probably.

But then Cassian cracks a grin, and he’s bounding over to the female like an excitable pup. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

“Watch your language.” Roza scorns, but she happily accepts the hug that Cass yanks her into. “Gods, you’ve grown even more.”

You…you are rooted to the spot. Unable to move.

You want to go over there, too. To embrace her. But…but just seeing Roza makes the previous couple of months come hammering down on you in an unwelcome downpour of unwanted realisations.

You think: Roza caught me fooling around with Cassian.

And then you think: Fucking hell, I fooled around with Cassian again.

And then you’re wondering how — how you’ve let the recent events of your life veer down such a beaten, broken path.

It’s like Roza’s appearance brings a clarity that has been very much absent as of late. She’s always been a figure of reason and wisdom, always stopped you from spiralling.

And now she’s here, you’re looking at Cassian — your damn friend — and wondering just how much damage you might have caused.

He’s mid-conversation with Roza when he seems to notice you staring at him. Roza notices, too.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She says.

You open your mouth, unsure how you intend to respond. All that slips out is a rasped, “I’m just…so glad you’re here.”

Cassian snorts. “Tell that to your face.”

You can’t bring yourself to laugh at the jibe. And it would seem that Roza can’t, either. She’s studying you in that assessing way you’ve seen her wear a thousand times before — the one where the motherly instinct kicks in, and she’s sensing something is wrong. It seems to be a subconscious act, the way she slides her hand over her bump.

“So what are you doing back here, anyway?” Cassian asks her, slinging an arm round her shoulders. “I thought the High Lord wanted you to stay in Velaris for the pregnancy.”

“He does.” Roza says. “But then I found out Y/N had somehow ended up homeless and that he hadn’t bothered to help, so he and I aren’t on the best of terms right now.” She eyes you again. “I’ve come to move you properly into the cottage — including retrieving your belongings from your father’s house. I will not have you freezing your ass off in this dump.”

Gods, you love her.

She’s so fierce, so passionate. This is a female who housed three lost, rowdy children under her roof and offered them the same amount of love as she felt for her biological son. This is a female who does what she believes is right and damns the consequences. This is a female who doesn’t hesitate — not for one second — to help somebody in need.

She’s the exact kind of female you want yourself to be. And she’s the only person you wish to see in that moment.

“Perfect.” Cassian chirps brightly. “I’ll help. Let’s go fetch Y/N’s stuff from the bastard’s house right now.”

He takes a step towards the door, but Roza is laying a hand on his arm. She doesn’t look away from you once. “Cassian, my darling, I love you endlessly. And so, I say this with the greatest of adoration — fuck off to the mead hall, or something, and leave Y/N and I to have some girl time alone.”

“What?” He squawks in outrage. “But you just got here.”

“And I promise you we’ll catch up properly later. But right now, Y/N and I need some time alone.”

“But—”

“Do you want to stay and discuss the ins and outs of childbirth?”

Instantly, he falters. The change of tune would be comical if you were actually capable of feeling anything but despair in that moment.

“You know what?” He cracks a grin. “The mead hall sounds great right about now.”

Roza chuckles. “I thought it might. I’m taking Y/N back to the cottage. I’ll come and fetch you when we’re done. And if you see Az or Rhys, be sure to tell them to stay away, too.”

Oh.

This is going to be a serious talk.

You can’t remember the last time Roza was so insistent about it just being the two of you.

Probably when you got your first ever cycle, and she held and soothed and bathed you through it.

Will she still be so tender when she hears of the full scope of the mess you’ve created for yourself? You’re not sure you’d deserve it.

“Go easy, Cass.” Roza warns. “Don’t get into any fights.”

“Pff. As if I would.” Your friend lands a kiss on her cheek. “You look beautiful, Roz.” He says, and then he’s bustling out of the door without a care in the world.

You stare after him. Wish you could be that carefree. It feels…it feels impossible.

Gods, you just want to fucking cry.

Roza can see that. She holds a hand out.

“Come, my little dove.” She says. “Let’s get you home.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

It kind of feels like walking into the cottage for the very first time, all over again.

You remember that night like it happened only yesterday. Remember how the cold had felt as you’d followed Azriel through the snow. The noises of bickering coming  from behind the door.

Even at eleven, Az had always seemed so much taller than you. You’d noticed that as he’d strode ahead and led you inside.

Roza had been standing in the kitchen, and she’d turned to you with a curious expression. “Oh.” She’d chirped, with more warmth than you’d ever heard from your own kin. “What have we here, then?”

You, Azriel had explained to her, had been set upon by a group of males far older than you. Az had defended you, and then he’d invited you to share his dinner.

Roza had taken one look at the dirt packed beneath your fingernails and told you to thoroughly wash your hands before taking a seat. You’d done just that.

And it was at that very table that Rhysand had introduced himself.

“I’m Rhysand. My father is the High Lord.”

Roza had scolded him for showing off.

And it was after that that Cassian had eyed you with a wild, feral look and simply said, “I bet I could beat you in an arm wrestle. I beat everyone.”

“Not at my dinner table, you don’t.” Roza had put a stop to that immediately. And then she’d placed a steaming pie in the centre of the table, and High Lords and arm wrestles were all but forgotten, and Azriel had been quiet and shy at your side, but dutifully offering you different foods before he took any for himself—

Standing at the threshold of the cottage, now…it’s like watching that entire scene play out before you. The ghosts of your younger, wayward selves feast greedily on a wholesome meal that lets you forget your harrowing experiences for a little while.

How things have changed.

You finally step in. Kick the door shut behind you. The smells and warmth of your sanctuary envelop you, and you know — you fucking know that you won’t be able to keep a lid on your tears for long.

“Don’t know how many times I’ve told those idiots to put the fire out before they leave the house.” Roza mutters, but she goes striding straight towards that burning fire and welcomes its warmth. “Although, I must admit, I’m a little impressed. I expected this place to be far messier in my absence than it is. Don’t tell me they’ve actually been cleaning—”

“Roza.” You cut in, your voice shaky, desperate. “About what you saw—”

She turns back to you. Says nothing as concerned, violet eyes sweep the length of your body. She’s letting you speak, but you don’t know what the fuck to say.

You open and close your mouth as though the act will make some sense of…any of this.

It doesn’t.

“I didn’t realise you and Cassian were…” Roza clears her throat. Pauses. “I just…what of Azriel, Y/N?”

You blink at her.

Roza’s very good at knowing things she hasn’t been told, but for her to know about you and Az when she’s been in Velaris this whole time, and when, as far as you’re aware, these things have been strictly kept between you and Azriel only—

“What?” You breathe.

“Perhaps I’m wrong, I don’t know.” She frowns. “But I always suspected that you and Az would be…something more. Your connection with him has always run a little deeper than with anyone else. That’s why I was so shocked when I found you…and Cass…”

Is she wrong?

No.

And fucking damn you for taking all these years to see it. Fucking damn you for only realising you wanted Azriel as more than just your friend when somebody else began to recognise his brilliance.

Fucking damn you for all of this, and damn Azriel, too, and damn everyone.

It all comes showering down on you in an instant, harsh and unwelcome.

You love Azriel. Not just in the way you love Rhysand and Cassian. You’re in love with his soul, his spirit. Who he is will always be tethered to who you are, even though he isn’t yours to cling onto. It’s been that way since you were old enough to harbour such feelings, and you’ve been burying it all these years, burying it under bad choices and regrettable actions, because all of that seemed easier to face, than…this. The fact that you were never able to control your heart, stop it from feeling such things, and now you feel them so intensely that it hurts.

Had your deal with Az ever really been about helping him, or had it been a selfish ruse under which you could have some small experience to remember him by when he inevitably gave his heart to somebody else?

Because you are just Y/N. You’ve always just been Y/N.

You are not Kaeda — Kaeda with the wings, and the strength, and the excellence.

Just Y/N. Just Y/N—

“Speak to me, my love.” Roza steps closer. “I’m worried about you.”

Your eyes blur with tears. Your legs buckle, and you’re bracing one hand on the back of the couch while the other flies up to cup over your mouth.

“Oh, gods, what have I done?” Your voice breaks.

“Speak to me.” Roza says again.

“This is all such a mess.”

“What is, Y/N?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t know what—what to do!”

“You need to breathe.” She responds firmly. “Deep breaths. Now.”

You try. Gods, you try. But your chest is constricting, and the air won’t reach your lungs, and all you can hear on a constant loop inside your head is one, bellowing sentence.

Everything is irreversibly changed.

Roza closes the gap between you and cups your face. The touch is soft, but firm. She forces you to look at her, and her face is blurred by your tears, but you know she’s looking at you how she’s always looked at you — with love.

“Tell me what’s going on, and I can help you through it.” She pleads.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” You sob back.

She yanks you close, arms wrapping around you. She’s held you like this through so, so much. This is no different.

But it feels different, in that it feels worse. Not only is it possible that your actions could change your relationships with both Cassian and Azriel, but also that they could change their relationship with each other, too — change the strong, steadfast dynamic between your three closest friends.

You tremble, clinging to Roza like you may just collapse. Your heartbeat gallops in your ears like rhythmic footfalls.

“Y/N—”

“It all turned into a total mess.” You choke out. “I was feeling things — I am feeling things — and then Azriel had Kaeda and I was jealous and stupid and I — I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have slept with Cassian.”

“You did what?”

Those three, outraged words are not spoken in Roza’s voice. The sudden interjection of Azriel’s is enough for your sobs to catch in your throat.

Every single inch of your body goes cold as you step back to look at him. Blink at him. Roza fights to keep hold of you.

Normally, he would have hurried over to embrace her. But he stays rooted to the last step of the staircase. He’s staring at you. Only you.

You’ve never seen him look so pale.

“Az.” Roza sighs softly. “We didn’t realise you were home.”

He doesn’t look away from you — not once — as he asks, “What did you just say?”

Roza inches towards him. “I think we all need to sit down and talk about this—”

“You fucked Cassian?”

Tears spill over, roll down your cheeks. Your voice doesn’t want to show itself as you croak out, “Az, I can explain.”

“You fucked Cassian?” He’s repeating it like…like he needs to. Like it won’t get into his head any other way. “You had sex with him?”

“Yes, but—”

“Around the time you and I were doing similar things?”

Roza’s head whips round to you in surprise. You’d failed to mention that bit. After a moment, she rights herself once more. “Azriel, you should let her speak.”

“I can’t fucking believe you.” Letting you speak is the last thing on his mind as he steps down, storming past the two of you. You reach out for him, but he’s jerking away, heading for the door.

“Azriel, please.” Your voice cracks. “Let me explain.”

“Explain that you fucked Cass? At the same time that I was sharing such…such huge things with you—”

“At the same time you were sharing them with Kaeda!”

He falls still, hand faltering on the doorknob, shoulders hunched.

And then he glances over his shoulder at you with an expression so bleak, you’d do anything, make a bargain with anyone, to wipe it from his face.

“Except that I’ve never touched Kaeda like that.” He says. “Not once. I couldn’t.”

Before you’re capable of summoning an answer, he’s yanking the door open and thundering out into the snow.

Shock pulses through you, ice-cold and harrowing. You blink, and blink and blink and blink, and you think Roza might be saying your name, but you can only choke out another sob that grates against your throat, and then your legs are moving forward, stumbling out of the door.

“Az, wait!” You cry, but he’s already striding far into the distance. “Please!”

You try to move, but it’s like the snow is binding your ankles, grounding you firmly to the spot. You sob. Try to move. Fall. Get up. It’s cold and wet. You’re hurting. Everything’s hurting.

And somebody’s yelling — yelling at you.

“Hey!” You know the voice. It’s a voice you don’t like. But you can’t put a face to it until its owner is stopping in front of you, sneering at you. Lord Devlon. “What did I tell you about staying away from these parts, girl?”

You’re incapable of answering him. You’re not even looking at him. You just stare and stare in the direction that Az disappeared in, fat, hot tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I’m talking to you.” Devlon grabs your chin between his fingers, hard. “Insolent female—”

“Remove your hand from her face at once.”

He blinks at the sight of Roza stepping out of the cottage. Clearly, he had no clue she’d returned. And even he won’t speak out against the High Lord’s pregnant mate.

He drops his hand immediately.

Roza steps up to your side and narrows her gorgeous eyes at him. Her hand sits on her swollen belly. “Look at you, Lord Devlon — following orders like a good dog. Now, go on. Fuck off.”

There’s a slight twitch of a muscle as he clenches his jaw. He hates every second of it, but he obediently turns away from you.

“Oh — Lord Devlon?” Roza calls after him.

He stops. Turns. “Yes, lady?”

“I decide who can and cannot live in my house.” She stares him down. “That call is mine and mine alone. And if I hear of you giving Y/N any more trouble? I’ll rip your fucking throat out.”

She turns her back to him with utter dismissal. If you weren’t so devastated, you might laugh at his stunned expression.

But Roza sees the pain in your eyes, and she pulls you into her arms.

“Come, my love.” She murmurs  softly. “Let’s get you inside.”

az tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes

[velvetures]

Hello loves💕 I still can't get over your writing I'm obsessed!!

I would love to request Roommate König x fem reader. König hears you fucking some guy on the other side of the wall and he can tell you faked it so once the dude is gone he's got you over his shoulder and is walking you to his bedroom to fuck you right. I love the idea of her trying to get him to confess to her and trying anything after months or years of mutual pining, her last resort is to make him jealous.

Overheard

a/n: I'm so sorry for being so slow my love... I always have the worst self-confidence with nsfw reqs. I constantly write them, delete them, and start all over... (this is like... the 8th full-draft retry) So I hope you'll forgive me if this isn't up to standard. Also, I know this trope has been covered by some really talented writers and I hoped to do it justice, and not feel like a carbon copy of something better. (ps. This shit is too long... but I knew if I deleted anything, I'd delete the whole thing over again.)

tw's: 18+ ONLY, nameless hookup, alluded unprotected sex w/side character, unintentional orgasm denial, the reader is mentally not in the best place for sex (disconnected), voyeurism, jealously, fem-oral receiving, fem-fingering receiving, dirty talk, König being a bit of a loser, König omitting his lack of experience, aftercare.

His mom kept saying it was about time to settle down. That the biological clock, normally pushed on women, was ever-present and ticking against his favor. But his sweet, innocent, mother didn’t know the depth of his awkwardness. Not even the slightest idea that her well-mannered boy, turned praise-worthy Colonel was nothing but a bumbling fucking idiot when it came to speaking with women. In the field, sure. He could give orders, discuss tactics, and even bullshit with the best of the best… but if a woman was among those? Oh hell. It was like trying to talk to a brick wall with a randomly developed stuttering issue.

He didn’t understand where it came from either.

It wasn’t like his mother was one of the overbearing types that made dating impossible, and nor did he exactly have the worst time when he was younger with women being interested. It was just… after they showed interest, that became the struggle. Relaxing wasn’t possible. Not when he knew that a woman’s perception of him was far higher than that of any man. Believing that even the smallest of gestures and phrases could earn him an immediate dismissal, and his name or photo being sent in some group-chat to be berated after a first date. He didn’t blame any of the women though… he knew what he looked like. What he sounded like… and God, how miserable his personality was compared to what his career and position would lead others to assume.

A shred of truth could always be found in his mother’s warning though.

He’d gone years without any meaningful relationship where the softer, side of a woman could be found. He found bastardized ways of getting a taste, but he could only allocate so much money a month to porn sites and camgirls without feeling like a total sleaze. The Colonel felt much more confident mapping out a prospective warzone than the contours of a woman’s body, and fuck… it made him more than a little embarrassed to admit. Enough so, that when you mentioned that your rental agreement was coming to an end, and you were trying to find somewhere new to stay, he offered for you to just move in with him.

He owned. Which made the idea of ‘rent’ or you paying it almost unquestionably stupid. It made the deal a little sweeter -in his mind- for you to agree, and then he wouldn’t have to be quite so personally diligent on logging onto online portals to pay utilities. That is, if he could get you to move in. And while in his own mind and body, every synapse screamed that he was being unrealistic, you hadn’t caught on. He’d looked just as stoic and cold as ever when he propositioned that you just start moving over your things into his house. Save money… it’ll be easier for you; He’d said, hard eyes glancing over your face. You thought saying ‘yes’ was anxiety-inducing? König nearly passed out in his office after walking there on numb feet and weak knees.

In the week following, he brought you a small ring of keys, and you started moving your life into his, one cardboard box at a time. And every night after returning from his on-base duties, he would have to physically restrain himself from opening up the taped flaps and getting a peek at the unattended items sitting by the front door. At the time, he thought it was nothing more than unchecked curiosity and instinct to feel-out a new situation. Just simply wanting to learn more about you before you started sleeping over. Merely the soldier in him. But box, by box, that curiosity didn’t dampen down. Even when your items began making their way out of their containers and enmeshing with his around the house.

Tea cups in the kitchen cabinet next to his thicker, coffee mugs. Throw blankets rolled and stacked in the far corning of the couch he rarely sat on. A little rug you’d tossed down in the kitchen in front of the stove with a little floral print that he’d been utterly possessed to not get any stains on while cooking, or by taking off his boots before walking inside. And while never claiming to be a ‘minimalist’ man, he learned right away that his house was nothing short of a hotel when it came to personality.

You’d brought at least five full walls worth of decor. Little trinkets and cute things from all over the world you’d been sneaky enough to stuff into the pockets of your gear. And all of it, had initially been shoved into an empty linen closet he’d been perfect happy with you claiming as your own since it was ‘on your side of the house’. That was, until he found himself noticing that you’d put more than “storage” things away, and had silently refused to put them where they belonged.

On the damn walls.

“I don’t decorate well anyways..” It’d been his excuse… or at least something along those lines. Maybe a little bit more gruff. Guarded. Because even in his own home, he had the tendency of walking around like someone was going to sneak up behind him.

So one week, while he was away, you took the permission and ran with it. Buying the picture hanging kits, and everything else needed to begin covering the Colonel’s walls with your amassed collection of utterly unnecessary, but brain-scratching decorations, art, and collectable junk. Spending a good half hour walking around the halls and rooms with a little smile of accomplishment on your face seeing the colonel’s house feeling more like a home. Totally unaware that he’d been checking the security cameras dotted around, watching you scale a shitty stepladder, climb the kitchen cabinets, and struggle to lift the more heavy items. All the while, growing more and more intrigued with this new arrangement. Debating whether he liked it or not. Rapt attention making the instinctive suggestion that you’d make a good wife far less perverse than he should’ve felt it to be.

Missions took precedence though. And it kept both of you busy more than not. Fully living adjacent instead of in a more dependent role. But there were decidedly small decisions that needed to be made. Like who was in charge of buying groceries, and getting essentials that you both used. König ended up just leaving cash on the counter once a week so you could take care of his end for him. Saving the trouble of a second loaf of bread being bought, or doubling up on paper towels after a miscommunication lead to fifty rolls of the shit needing to be stored somewhere. You did the job more than credibly, and it got you out of the house too.

Which was good, because you rarely left.

Not unlike him, you preferred your time spent in calm situations. Either reading reports, answering emails, and other related tasks before just closing that tab on your laptop and opening up an new one to watch a show or scroll on your phone. You appeared to thrive in his house when you could curl up like some little bird in a nest and just rest. Developing almost permanently sleepy eyes when you came through the door, and a softer tone of voice that took some getting used to. König didn’t exactly understand it. Why your demeanor changed so much within the house, and how it got substantially much more noticeable when your schedules aligned for both of you to be there at the same time.

A solid seven months or more passed before he got his answer. And from your late-night scrolling nonetheless.

Some woman, blabbering on about her husband, and all of the ways that he effected her life once she moved in with him. And, honestly, König wasn’t listening all that much. Having just begun sitting on the other end of the couch with you, since it was where you spent your evenings after dinner. And, it’d become a little bit of a new experience. Just being halfway close to you. Interacting, but not. A safe way to enjoy your presence without any expectations. But that woman on your phone caught his attention when she made the joke about being tired all the time. Tired. Sleepy. All the fucking time. He had to stare down at the TV to keep his head from snapping in your direction.

Apparently it was chemical. Some little thing in the back of a woman’s mind that men didn’t have the complexity to experience the same way. That this woman -and you- were so mentally focused for such a long time, that when the right person was around you, and created a safe space, it acted like a the strongest sleeping pill in existence. Flooding you with dopamine and melatonin to the point that your pretty face got even sweeter with those deep, sleepy looks and constant yawns at all times of the day. Getting a glimpse of you tapping the screen twice, and then tapping at your keyboard to leave a comment only reinforced his inquisitiveness. From the moving boxes, to watching you on cameras while away… and now realizing that you acted so sweet and docile around the house because of him..? He didn’t know how to control himself, and still find a way to keep figuring you out.

Wanting more…

Needing a chance to find out if things could go further than just living in his house.

Dating wasn’t a walk in the park for you either. Call it a hazard of military work. Computers and filing paperwork was more your speed than the guns and blood that König was accustomed to, but it still limited the amount of men who were interested. Especially in the long-term.

It really came down to the uniform and lack of free time that could be allotted to the guys that you did have the fortune to meet. They wanted to take you on dates, and your superiors preferred you stay late to take minutes for a meeting. They always suggested you take a vacation, since it was clear just how tired you were on a daily basis. But vacations were practically a laughable dream you knew wouldn’t come to fruition until you finally were sent the retirement packet everyone in the service dreamed of. But.. on the rare occasion, you did have the energy to entertain a man for a night. Just. One. Night.

Thankfully König was out.

Such good timing considering you’d spent nearly a week, taking your sweet time to wring orgasms out of yourself just for the sheer frustration of getting them, and still not feeling satisfied. Instinctively missing the warmth of skin on skin and the dynamic of having someone else provide and take pleasure from you. Even getting on the app had felt more like a shopping trip than a chance to go on a date. Looking through photos and bios with nothing more on your mind than someone big enough, and pretty enough to make the ordeal worth it. The guy who answered back to your painfully blatant request for a good fuck, didn’t ask any questions either. Just asked politely asked if you wanted to go to him, or vice versa and gave you ample time to get yourself ready before the knock on the front door.

Your mental ruined any chance of having a good time though.

The poor guy sucking at your neck and grunting soft praises was nice… but you couldn’t get into it. Feeling tense. Going through the motions. Foreplay becoming an act of forced moans to reassure the guy genuinely trying to make you feel good, and unable to even make eye contact for a slightly guilty feeling that pervaded your thoughts. Hell, you even refused to have missionary, just to make sure that your facial expressions didn’t have to constantly match the fake whimpers and whines.

John… Joe… Jacob… whatever his name was, he was honestly a sweet guy. Giving your clit attention, no just shoving his cock in you without prep, and actively checking in without making it overbearing. On another day, you’d have really been trying harder to impress him. Give the impression that you were interested in him for more than the sex you couldn’t surrender to. Hope that he liked you enough to stick around. But deep down, you thought better of it. Withholding your feelings to ensure that when he left you alone for the night, that you wouldn’t hate yourself.

König, on the other hand, came home a bit earlier than expected. Walking in the door quietly to expect a silent house, and you sleeping in your bed or on the couch after waiting up for him. Only to be stunned with wet, skin slapping and familiar, pathetic, whimpers getting overrun by deep grunts and low, almost whispered sounds from a man.

God… you were getting fucked.

His whole chest tightened in embarrassment and his face felt hot. You’d never been quite this comfortable… at least to his knowledge. Plenty of nights he had overheard the faint sounds of you getting off alone… soft little moans and gentle hums of a vibrator filtering down the hallway to him. But he’d never heard anything quite that… loud. Even when you fucked yourself on a dildo -he’d always been too curious not to listen intently- the slick sounds of your cunt always made louder noise than your voice. As mortified as he was hearing it… part of him knew something was wrong. Like his whole body was stiff, realizing that you weren’t enjoying it. Faking it… for some unknown reason.

Why couldn’t you say something? Surely you could ask him to… to do something different right? To let you use a toy? Or… or touch your clit? Whatever it took to help you enjoy yourself. But those pinched, almost broken moans starting grating on him within seconds. Stalking towards your bedroom door quietly, and leaning against the wall. Eyes closed and his breath getting heavier with each imagined scene in his head that developed. Picturing him doing all the wrong things… Touching you… tasting you… and living out his own pleasure without the slightest idea that every sound out of your mouth was a fucking lie.

König’s jaw clenched. Resisting a sudden desire to bang on the door or make some other loud noise that would bring this all to an end. Even his fist clenched at his side flinched towards the bedroom door, as if he was insane enough to actually bust in.

What would he even do?

The question rang out a bit too harshly in his mind.

He didn’t have the first idea how to… do better. To make you feel good, or any woman really. Plenty of jealousy rose in his throat at the thought of that bastard fucking you, but he hadn’t even touched a pussy in years. And the last time he did it, he was, pathetically inexperienced. Using his huge fingers to try and prep his partner, but not hitting any of the right spots. Accidentally taking a clinical approach, and it left him feeling like a damn gynecologist instead of a good fuck.

He couldn’t please you, no matter how much he wanted to…

The sobering thought forced him to back away from your bedroom door. But pride alone forced him into the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a glass of scotch in his hand. The last -and unavoidable- line of defense before the front door. No doubt in his mind that if nothing else, he’d get a good look at the man you’d brought home for a disappointing night of sex. Wanting to at least humiliate the bastard for a few seconds. Because while he knew himself to not be an acceptable partner, the guy currently riding out his high in your bedroom wasn’t going to know it. And seeing him -in his daily fatigues- and his hood, would give any man a moment of pause.

You felt sticky. Hot. And more than a little achy in all the wrong ways as Jeff… Josh… whoever the fuck he was, removed himself form your bed and began pulling on his jeans. Watching cautiously as he excused himself into your bathroom -sweetly- offering you a wet washcloth and a too-shy smile for a man who’d just come all over your stomach.

You didn’t bother putting on pants to walk him out to the front door. Too disappointed and stuck in your own head to see König standing in the corner of the kitchen. His dark eyes glaring daggers at your… ‘guest’ who was much more observant, and stood stock still. Shirt in his hands, and forced to raise his gaze more than normal to get the best look at the terrifying man looming in the shadows. It took you far longer than it should’ve. To trace Jonah… Josiah’s… gaze, and recognize your roommate. And even longer to remember that you weren’t wearing pants.

“Hey man…”

You had to give what’s-his-name credit for being as casual as he sounded. Because in all honesty, you were just as taken aback. Shuffling to stand behind the guy just enough that your bare pussy and ass weren’t totally out for him to see.

“Evening…” König sounded… bored? Not his normal tone. “Heading out already?” The guy you were using as a shield, just nodded his head. Looking a bit apologetic, but still anxious.

“Yeah, man…” He pulled his head over his shirt, patting his pockets for the jingle of car keys before glancing back at you with an truly apologetic smile, and a clear unpreparedness for the situation. “I… uh…. thanks for… letting me come over…”

You can’t manage more than a nod. No smile, no reassuring touch to him… nothing. Just a silent acknowledgment and the subsequent scamper over to the couch to grab a blanket to cover yourself up.

Shit… König fucking waved bye…

He didn’t expect you to come out. Nor to get his first-ever look at your pussy. And god it’d taken a lot of restraint not to just stare at you and memorize what he could get get a look at. You just looked soft. So fucking small and soft… A slight sheen of sweat on your face and the roots of your hair damp from the erotic affair.

Too bad it was all an act.

“Thanks for letting him come, huh?” He can’t resist… the guy just hadn’t been cautious enough to not fuel the fire of jealously in him.

Seeing you wrap that blanket around you tighter, avoiding all eye contact, and even turning your side to him a bit… it makes him smile under his hood. An amused one. A sickeningly happy sort of feeling rising in his gut where you appear vulnerable under his gaze. You’re already much more expressive just talking to him than you’d sounded with that bastards cock inside you.

“Didn’t think you’d be back for a while…” Your valid excuse falls a bit flat, especially when those dark brown eyes scan your entire body. He lifts his tumbler of scotch under his hood, nodding before taking a long drink. Feeling a secondary burn that soothes the heat building everywhere else in him.

“I can see that…” He chuckles lowly. To him, it sounds unsure… and maybe tinged with anger, jealously. But on your face, he’s clear that you don’t recognize it. Far too embarrassed to see that there’s just as much uncertainty flooding him as well. “Could hear it too…”

He literally sees your shoulders sink. The wave of embarrassment. Part of him loves it. Knowing you’re experiencing some of the same things he is. That you to, know what it’s like to leave a bed feeling like things didn’t go right, and there’s a guilt that hardens like sediment in your gut. Yet the other half, resists pushing harder. Using this same, defensive, and chastising tone. To give you just a bit of respite, because, he’s not really mad… he’s just fuming with jealously.

“If I knew… I wouldn’t have…” You can’t manage much more. Both of you knowing damn well this wouldn’t have happened if you knew what his arrival was going to be. You always kept so good to his schedules… and not just because this was his house. But because you were so genuinely sweet around him.

“Been so loud?” He suggests, downing the last gulp of his scotch and pushing away from the counter. “Speaking of that…” His gaze lingers on your throat… those faked moans echoing in his mind.

“I didn’t know it was common practice for women to walk their fucktoys to the door… especially when he doesn’t make you come.”

If your stomach was twisting before, there wasn’t a doubt now. And god… you couldn’t tell if it was that he was home, or his voice, or just the edged-feeling of your aching pussy; but König was making you squirm. More than he’d ever done before… and you’d gotten yourself off to the thought of him plenty of times before when no other fantasy had done the trick.

“I finished.” You defend, tightening the blanket around your waist and tucking your bare feet under the excess material pooling on the floor.

König’s eyes blacken, and he laughs lowly. It’s the closest you’ve seen to his behavior when he’s interrogating someone. His power of knowing all the right answers and just dangling the freedom to lie right in front of your face. Maddening, to say the least. And enough to make your thighs flex together.

“I’d like to believe you…” he begins, making leisurely steps closer. “Yet, I’ve spent more nights than I care to admit hearing you come… and what I just hear… is nothing close to the real thing.”

“It’s different with—when it’s not just me.” You gape at him, trying to find anger at the audacity.

Searching for something other than a feeling of arousal knowing that despite your muffled cries into pillows, he’d still heard you at night. Still listened, and if nothing else, knew what your true pleasure sounded like to call you on bullshit. He shrugs, massive hands resting on his hips. Watching them sway a little as he keeps getting closer. Testing the boundary lines you no doubt had. Pushing and prodding at weak spots, and wondering if he can set foot on the living room rug you stood at the center of.

“Different, huh?” The fake acceptance doesn’t last long. “So if I asked for proof… you’d have it?”

“Proof?” You choke out. “What kind of proof could I even give you?” There are plenty running around in your head, all of them raunchier than the previous. But you’re almost desperate to hear him say it.

“Sweetheart, you’ve got the wettest fucking cunt I’ve ever heard,” He growls softly. “You never finish yourself off without making the slickest goddamn noises. Can hear it from down the hallway like it’s playing off my phone.” He adds, voice getting gritty, eyes lowering towards your hips and back up.

“Show me, that is… if he really did make you come.”

Air in your lungs evaporates. God it’s criminal how fucking lewd anything could sound coming from his mouth. And your dry pussy is pathetically getting wetter by the second. Fluttering muscles twitching with each filthy admission he makes. You’re already resorting to putting pressure against your clit by flexing your legs, trying to deny the feelings. Excusing it all by the still-lingering desire for release and not König. Not moving, and a miserable lack of a response forces him to approach faster. Stepping onto the rug serving as a mental barrier for you.

“Embarrassed?” He asks, head tilting a little and stretching the hood to pull away from his chest a little. Putting a bit more of his chest on display in that tight t-shirt.

You shake your head defiantly.

“Oh? Okay then… you should be able to show me then, right? Pretty girl like you, wanting to get fucked… Should be more than willing to brag that you got satisfied. That he left you satiated…”

Your face burns. Debating how to answer. If it’s even smart to try and test your voice in the first place.

“Nothing to see… got-got cleaned up…” God the miserable truth that your no-name partner’s cum was the only thing needing cleaned off of you hits like a punch to the gut.

A massive hand grabs at the blanket in your grip stops all possibility of lying anymore. A warning. Gentle, for sure and meant to be just a small test of consent. However, you too far into this to not want more. He’s just hitting all the right buttons, whether he means to or not.

“How about I… check for myself?” He asks lowly, free hand -covered in a glove- sliding up under his hood and returning into sight with the achingly sexy sight of a huge, scarred hand. His meaning isn’t lost on you, and it’s almost like your cunt floods in anticipation.

“Slide my hand between your pretty thighs, and see just how good he treated you…” He murmurs, trailing fingers down the two sides of the blanket pulled together. “Let me see if that pussy is fucking drenched like she deserves to be.”

“König.” You warn softly, eyes darting down to his hand and back to his eyes.

Not the slightest bit worried about him touching you. Not at all. But about what would happen after all the tension faded. What would come of your relationship if you fucked… or, just made things complicated in general.And he pauses, looking to you a bit cooler. His breathing still heavy, and laden with emotion.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

You’re desperate to think of a way to explain yourself, but the most basic, stupid, comment comes out of your mouth.

“I don’t want this to end badly.”

He straightens just a bit. But his hands don’t move. And while from your perspective, it seems he’s hesitating on whether or not to continue, that’s not what’s got him stuck mere inches away from slipping his fingers between your folds.

He’s worried you know. That you’ve caught on to his inexperience, and are merely defending yourself from a second bad experience in one night. And god it makes this throat burn. Desperate to defend himself and prove that while -yes- he’s more than a little bit lost when it comes to the manual process, he’s still going to be the most teachable fucking man you’ve ever met.

“I’ll listen so well…” He eventually mutters, stepping just a bit closer. Voice lowering and a hint of desperation entering it. “Can—can give you everything you want… Just need to tell me…” he adds, unable to look you in the eyes.

It’s not exactly what you were expecting to hear, but it still strokes that burn between your thighs. Especially when his hands grip your hips through the blanket wrapped around you. Groping softly, massaging at the fat over your muscles and feeling hungry just to touch you.

“I… I don’t want things to be awkward afterwards.” You try to reexplain. Hoping the clarification will help him see why you hadn’t already leaned into his commanding touch.

“Awkward,” he repeats, as if it’s a foreign idea. Like it’d never crossed his mind. “Don’t plan on ignoring you anymore… Not—Not after hearing that… and knowing… fuck…”

“He couldn’t have listened… please tell me you tried to tell him what to do… what you wanted,” His rambles get more panicked. Like every thought in his head is equally important and he can’t take the time to pick one and let me even answer. “Should’ve asked what your pussy needed… how to make you feel good… make those pretty sounds..”

You’re half dazed just watching his breathy words fan the material of his hood to react to his boot kicking your feet apart. Wide hand sliding between your thighs and groaning. A deep, guttural sound that reminds of him being winded. And really… he probably should be. Because your inner thighs are dry to the touch. The wetness he’d been creating still not enough to make much fuss over. But he’s not satisfied with that alone. Immediately curling a finger to spread your lips, feeling the thick, slick of new arousal that had been nothing, if not his doing.

“Ohh, you poor baby…” He sighs lowly, head rolling back at the mere sensation of your pussy under his fingertips. Feeling you a bit anxiously, yet getting a buzz in the back of his skull when your hole pulses against his prodding touch. “Left you so fucking hot…”

It’s a fast movement but he’s got you off your feet and dropped down onto the couch in one swift move. Your back arched in the slumped position and the blanket that’d been covering your -pathetic- modesty, fluttered open on both sides of your hips. Leaving your core exposed to his hungry and heavy-lidded eyes. Letting out a little whine of a sound when he slowly drops to a knee; tracing his hands down your inner thighs like he was scared of touching you too harshly.

“König, please…” You gasp out, watching his thumb run over your swollen labias. Pinching your fat lips together softly and inadvertently putting delicious pressure on your swollen clit. He curses under his breath, free hand grabbing your thigh with bruising strength.

“Tell me how to please you,” He commands, eyes flashing dangerously wide in the icy moonlight streaming through the living room windows. “I need to make you come.”

His desperate, and knows you can see it. His whole body shakes seeing your flushed pussy a mere foot away from his face, and nothing but opportunity and his hood preventing him from burying his face in it. Watching as you shyly reach for his wrist, guiding his hand where you want it. Extending his fingers and whimpering when your motion for him to rub small circles over your clit sends those to-intense waves of pleasure through your pussy.

“Like that… just like that…” You’re able to praise with a shaky nod of your head.

Rocking your hips in tandem with his movements and nearly crying out in relief when he diligently keeps the same pressure to you despite your little twitches and grinds. Allowing you the freedom to plant your feet on the edge of the couch and simply feel. König’s lost in it. Lost in the sight of you. Your pretty mouth gaping open and your hips chasing the touch he’s providing. His breath catching when you cry out or give a weak praise for his work. Like you’re enjoyingwhat he’s doing.

But god he’s happy to stay right where you want him, how you want him. Feeling his knee dig into the harsh floorboards, and ignoring it with a refreshed feeling of duty he’d long lost as a soldier. Never had he been given such a pretty fucking prize to work for. Nothing as sweet as seeing your cunt drip from his rough fingers rubbing soft, almost too-soft circles over it. Not even realizing that he’d spent almost fifteen minutes just rubbing your clit lazily when your hand reaches back down. Happy to direct him yet again, especially when he doesn’t even need a verbal direction to do exactly what you want.

“Fingers,” You whisper through panting exhales. “Give me your fingers…”

Your little hand grabs his pointer and middle fingers, spreading your own slick over them like a goddamn professional before guiding him down to your aching hole. Letting go just long enough to feel the thick digits press though that first little ring of tightened muscle. Forcing your eyes open to witness his mostly-hidden expression as he sinks knuckle deep inside of you.

“So fucking pretty,” His head shakes a little, lost in the creamy slick gathering at the base of his fingers as he curls him up towards your pelvis just a little. Subconsciously scared to do the wrong thing, but desperate to keep your cunt flex and mold to his touch. “Tell me, sweetheart… show me what she needs.”

You’re too possessed to chase your high to not listen. Readjusting your bent legs on the couch to gently lift your hips and sink them back down. Slowly getting used to the feeling of his thick fingers, already deeper than your no-name partner. Groaning when they bump into your g-spot just hard enough to make your clit burn. Grinding against his hand and keeping one hand wrapped around his wrist just to try and ground yourself to the present situation. Lost in the rhythm of fucking yourself -quite literally- stupid within mere minutes. Beginning to hear that vulgar, sucking sound of your pussy gripping his fingers and utterly drooling over his palms.

König’s helpless to so more than sing your praise. “That’s a good girl… so good for me. Using me like a fucking toy.”

It’s the best he’s felt in a long time. Watching you take from him. Too absorbed to even think about anything other than yourself. Not in enough control to even worry about the true moans and yelps escaping you. Real pleasure wracking your body and burning every nerve ending.

“More… please more…” You cry softly, hips slowing to a painfully sexy grind as you squeeze the tendons in his wrist with your thumb.

König takes a little more initiative than he’s normally comfortably using, but adds a third finger. Slowly pumping them in and out, little by little, to help you adjust. Watching as your eyebrows pinch together in focus. A low growl rumbles in his chest, his mouth practically watering as your cunt sucks him in.

“Let me taste it, baby…” He huffs, head flinching forwards before backing off, repeating the action a couple more times. “Wanna help… just—just let me taste you…”

You clench around his fingers when he rests his cheek against your inner thigh. Big, wide eyes pleading with you so innocently like he isn’t stretching your hole wider than the biggest of your toys can with nothing but a few fingers. Forcing you to slow the roll of your hips, a shaky hand reaching out to cup his face through the mask. Rubbing a thumb over his hidden cheekbone with a little whimpered hum. Pulling his head closer to you, hissing when the hem of his hood merely grazes your clit.

“How’d you want it?” He asks, head down and pulling his mask up so you’re stuck. Forced to merely feel his mouth so close to you, and not see the shape of his mouth.

“Lick-lick my clit… s-soft…” You whine, eye shutting when the hot fan of his exhale his your fevered skin.

Holding his head steady with one hand, you almost coming up off the couch when his tongue makes one, long, lazy, lap between your folds. Gripping at the material of his hood just tight enough that he ends up ripping the whole thing off. Tossing it to the floor with an aggressive snarl that rumbles against your clit. Sparks of pleasure forcing your thighs apart and jerking your hips back up. Chasing his mouth. The rough texture of his tongue, and the slight graze of his teeth against your slicked folds.

Your orgasm approaches fast from there. Between his fingertips stroking you deep, and the new rhythm of his tongue lapping your slick up to massage your clit, it’s hard to even warn König that he can’t stop for risk of ruining your long-awaited release.

“König… K… oh… fuucckk…”

Your back arches tightly, both hands grabbing harshly at his hair with an unintelligible shout as you come. Jerking wildly and one of your feet losing it’s hold on the edge of the couch. Trying to fight through the shocks of pleasure, and groaning curses with a hoarse throat. Feeling König’s free hand latch onto your thigh to keep you from running away too far from his still-working lips and tongue. Sucking up the wet drips of release trying to drip down his hand.

“Slow, slow down.” You whimper, pushing at his forehead just a little. The pressure too much. The stretch of his fingers still satisfying but overstimulating.

Your so fucking grateful that he doesn’t fight you on it, or force you to try for another. And maybe it’s just the mere sight of you. abdominal muscles twitching, forcing your upper body to do baby-curls with each flex of your pulsing cunt. Toes curled and an all-over buzzing sensation making it hard to even make sense of where your limbs are in relation to the rest of your body, much less König or the couch your hardly laying on.

“You okay, sweetheart?” His softened voice almost gives you emotional whiplash, especially when he bends over you forehead resting against yours softly.

Gently removing his fingers with murmured apologies when your little winces mar your pretty features. Both hands sliding up your sides to help lift you back onto the couch, moving to sit himself next to you just long enough to reposition your body on his lap. Pulling that blanket back over your bottom half and maneuvering your cold, tingling feet between his thighs like he can tell they’re freezing. He presses soft kisses all over your forehead and nose. Rocking you softly and squeezing at the muscles in the back of your neck reassuringly.

“You needed that… needed to feel good…” he murmurs almost lovingly.

You nod dumbly, laying your head against his shoulder. Letting out soft nearly unconscious whimpers and a soft repetition of his name in cum-drunk appreciation.

“Told you I could listen… could be good for you,” He adds, almost like he’s reassuring himself of the idea. “Wanted to be better than him. Needed to prove it.”

He holds up your weighty head, stabilizing it with care and a sickeningly sweet look of devotion in his eyes.

“You’re never going to fake it again, sweetheart.”

reblogs & comments are always appreciated <3

[thehmn]

So far Jake Doubleyoo’s version of Loki is one of my favorites. The line “Wow this problem was actually super easy to fix. I wonder how I can ruin this situation for myself?” is perfect Loki.

Like most people who take an interest in Norse Mythology I went through the expected stages of Loki interpretations; He’s evil. No he’s actually good. He’s tragic. He’s actually a misunderstood hero.

But the truth is he’s just a trickster god who thinks he is too smart for his own good sometimes. He keeps doing stuff just because he thought it’d be funny or to see what would happen and well, he finds out what happens. He cuts Sif’s hair off for no reason while she’s sleeping and Thor immediately knows he was the culprit because he does shit like that all the time and when he’s told to fix it he keeps digging himself into worse trouble AFTER FIXING THE PROBLEM.

And thanks to Hollywood people think of Odin as a Zeus type but in reality Odin is a trickster god too. He and Loki have a lot in common and it makes sense that they’re blood brothers. In case you don’t know, blood brothers are men who were so close they decided to mix their blood, usually by cutting or pricking themselves and pushing the wounds together. They do a lot of the same stuff, only Odin is more focused on learning while Loki just wants to party.

I know “Loki turns evil because the gods treat him so badly” is a popular interpretation but if you actually sit down and read the texts you could just as easily interpret it as “Loki keeps fucking around and finding out and is mad that his actions have consequences” because the texts are so vague you have to do a lot of reading between the lines. Some texts even contradict each other. In one text both of Loki’s parents are jotun. In another his mother is a god. You can literally read the texts and their many translations in a million ways.

I personally like the version of Loki we get in the comic series Valhalla. In that version he is a trickster god to the bone who does stuff for shits and giggles or because he thinks he’s above the law. He’s never truly evil but he can’t be trusted either. You get a lot of funny scenes where he’s freaking out because the gods are onto him and he’s trying to talk his way out. Also, for the Aces out there, he’s implied to be asexual in this version. He does the sex sometimes but only to reach a goal.

This version is the base for a lot of Loki interpretations in Scandinavia and is worth a read.

[dumbseee]

rumours, part two.

part one.

jude bellingham x influencer!reader.

fc: nailea devora.

_

groupchat: it girls 💕

larray:

ain’t no way you’re dating jude fucking bellingham and haven’t told us

y/n:

larry istg i’ll cut your hair in your sleep if you keep believing those DUMB rumours

oliviarodrigo:

girl

he’s hot asf why don’t you shoot your shot?

y/n:

with a footballer?

hell fucking no

these guys don’t know what being faithful to one person means

and i’ve heard plenty of shit about this jude guy

larray:

yeah me too tbh

y/n:

i’m not getting involved with him, period.

larray:

okay but what about his teammates?

y/n:

larry.

larray:

DO IT FOR ME

_

liked by judebellingham, yourbestie, larray and 789 928 others.

y/n: girls night 🥂

_

fan1: JUDE LIKED???

fan2: is she lying to us?? bc why would he like her posts now?

fan3: I JUST CHECKED AND HE’S FOLLOWING HER NOW TOO

fan4: maybe she lied to protect their privacy?? that would make sense tbh

fan5: you look so good 😍

fan6: she’s such a baddie omg, jude i get it now

fan7: didn’t know who she was before the whole jude drama but omg i love her

fan8: LEAVE JUDE ALONE YOU FREAK

fan9: petition for jude’s groupies to leave y/n alone

fan10: MOTHER

fan11: y/n please do another grwm i’m obsessed with your videos

fan12: how to be like her, she’s hot asf and has THEE jude bellingham at her feet

view all comments.

_

insta dms:

y/n:

wtf is wrong with you?

i told you to tell your fangirls to leave me alone and what are you doing? you LIKE my posts and you follow me now?

leave me alone, jude.

judebellingham:

you looked good

you always look good*

are you free, tomorrow night?

y/n:

can’t you READ?

LEAVE. ME. ALONEEEEE.

or i’m pressing charges on you hoe.

judebellingham:

so it’s a yes?

i’ll send you the tickets and my jersey, someone will come pick you up, what’s your address?

y/n:

wtf

what do you mean?

judebellingham:

we’re playing against sevilla and i want you to come

y/n:

we don’t even know each other tf??

is that how you get all those girls to get obsessed with you?

that ain’t gonna work with me, boy.

judebellingham:

hm, i like you already.

y/n:

well, i hate you.

judebellingham:

haha

turns me on, love it.

y/n:

i am BLOCKING you

_

i hate him. i fucking hate him. who does he think he is? making me come see him to his stupid game, what am i, his mother? seriously i could’ve stayed at home, binge-watching the twilight movies like i do every year. now i have to go to his fucking football game, it’s going to be so nosy, damn it. and before you ask me, YES i am getting ready and i am wearing his jersey. not because i want to, but i know that i won’t hear the end of it if i don’t do it. yeah, i’m doing it because he’s forcing me, no other reason.

like jude said, someone did pick me up to take me to the bernabeu stadium, and i can’t believe i’m doing this. the venue is full of fans wearing either their real madrid jerseys or their sevilla jerseys. i can see men, women, kids, elderly people, they’re all here to have fun and support their favourite team and i have to admit that it’s a cute sight. let’s just hope that they don’t kill each other’s at the end of the match. i’m quickly escorted to the vip section, where friends, family and important people would seat for the game.

"oh my god, is that y/n?" a voice called from behind, i closed my eyes shut, fuck, and walked faster, i should’ve wore a mask to hide my face. if anyone picture me in this stadium with that motherfucker’s jersey on, it would end my career and i’m half exaggerating.

thank god, the vip section was secluded from the other people. the game started and i had to admit that it was fun to watch when you weren’t really supporting anyone. no stress, just having fun watching men run after a ball, just like dogs. jude was actually good, i never looked him up on the internet to watch his performances, i just knew he was the internet’s favourite whore and girls were thirsting over him. he was good looking, of course, no one could deny that, but more than anything he was annoying as fuck. i surprised myself, cheering for him when he scored a goal, what was wrong with me.

real madrid was actually leading the game with two goals against one. jude’s teammate passed the ball to him and he scored his third goal of the match. okay now, why did this motherfucker just point at the crowd, more specifically towards me? people turned around to see where he was pointing at, but thankfully they couldn’t see me. my heart definitely sank when he did that though, seriously what is wrong with this guy! it was a cute gesture, yes, but we weren’t dating and i promised myself to never date an athlete, tried it once and promised to never doing it again. jude was everything i hated in a man, he was reckless, cocky, full of himself and he knew he was hot. nothing worse than a guy who knows he’s handsome.

_

"how was i?" he asked, this big smile plastered on his face, i wish i could tear it off his face. "fine, i guess." jude made a weird face and put his hands on his hips. "fine? y/n, i was more than fine and you know it, scored three goals and they were all for you." he blew me a kiss and i swore i was about to knock him out. "yeah about that, someone could’ve seen me!" i said, slapping his arm, making him laugh. "darling, that’s what i wanted." okay, the way he was looking at me may or may have not made my heart skip a beat. "jude, i’m starting to believe that the fans gaslighted you into thinking we’re already dating." he laughed, making my cheeks heat up just a bit. "i just want to give the fans what they want to see." he shrugged and put his arm around my shoulders to start walking out of the changing room. i imediatly pushed his arm away and speed walked in front of him to hide my red cheeks. of course, the bitch was laughing at me, running to catch me and poking my cheeks to mock me. "aww, you’re blushing? i thought you hated me, darling." i put my hands on my cheek. "fuck you! it’s just hot in here!" "it’s literally minus two degrees, y/n."

_

liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, oliviarodrigo and 890 918 others.

y/n: maybe football isn’t so bad 🙄

_

judebellingham: like the view? 👀

y/n: shut up.

fan1: SHE POSTED JUDE???

fan2: Y/N DID YOU LIE TO US???

y/n: WE’RE JUST FRIENDS GUYS OMG

judebellingham: for now* 🫢

y/n: jude istg…

fan3: OMGBSJSOSLSLMDMSLZ WTF

fan4: i am literally shitting bricks what the FUCK

fan5: i love the banter lmao they’re fun

fan6: i ship it tbh

fan7: y/n being a wag for 2024 omg

fan8: i love how she’s fighting it but we all know how it’s going to end

fan9: Y/N NOOOOOO NOT A FOOTBALLER

oliviarodrigo: well, well, well 👀

y/n: please not you too

larray: will you look at THAT

y/n: LARRY SHUT UP IM BEGGING

fan10: lmaoo even her friends are ratting her out

fan11: #savey/n

view all comments.

_

insta dms:

y/n:

ARE YOU KIDDING ME

DID YOU REALLY DM POP BASE TO TALK ABOUT US???

judebellingham:

mmh, i don’t know what you’re talking about

y/n:

jude bellingham.

judebellingham:

okay maybe i did

BUT I DIDN’T KNOW THEY’D RAT ME OUT LIKE THAT

y/n:

FOR FUCK’S SAKE

judebellingham:

anyways it’s not a big deal tbh

are you free tonight?

y/n:

no.

judebellingham:

nice, i’ll come pick you up at 9 <3

y/n:

are you BLIND?

i said no bitch

judebellingham:

suddenly i can’t read.

_

liked by judebellingham, larray, sabrinacarpenter and 901 927 others.

y/n: get you a man who eats his spaghettis with his hands 😍

_

judebellingham: i wonder who is this gentleman 🫢

y/n: yeah i wonder too 🙄

fan1: pls not jude carrying y/n’s purse

fan2: they’re so cute stop

fan3: my favourite couple

fan4: PARENTS

fan5: lmao i bet jude is the one who begged her to be his gf

y/n: yes.

fan6: JAISOSPXLD’´S

view all comments.

[saintescuderia]

pancakes (pt. 7)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: here we are! and CHARLES WON MONACO! (also sorry for the lance slander RPM influences me far too much)

P7 - 2.5L water bottle

"Oh for fuck's sake."

The lyrics rapping over the Metro Boomin beat were cut off as you turned off your engine. You huffed spotting the asshole in green getting out of the Aston Martin in front of you.

Mother fucking Lance Stroll.

Stroll got on your every nerve from the fact that he, as a paid driver, was the epitome of what you hated about F1 and the cash is king nature of the sport. It didn't help your opinion of him that his treatment of the Hospitality workers was very telling of his personality (i.e a spoiled little bitch) - but he also treated the rest of Aston Martin like that.

His engineers he bossed around. His PR team he bossed around. His fucking team principle he bossed around. You had never ever seen a driver be able to literally pick and choose what Media they wanted to do until Lance Stroll. Not even Räikkönen had gotten away with things that way Stroll did.

The worst part of it all, though, was that Lance's attitude of I can do whatever I want meant that he really thought he could get any girl he wanted.

Namely - you.

Your Supra wasn't exactly inconspicuous and Lance had (unfortunately) been in F1 long enough to make the connection that the flash JDM car parked in the lot tended to belong to you. And even though your windows were tinted a few shades darker than legal limit, Lance was getting out of the car right next to you. There was no chance he didn't know that it was you.

If anything, he likely made his driver park next to your Supra on purpose.

"Lord give me strength." You muttered seeing him come up to your window.

But then Lance Stroll had the fucking audacity to tap on your window.

You immediately reached for the handle and opened the door which caused him to stumble for the lack of space as you did so. "Oh, woah! Hey!" The Canadian accent pissed you off for no other reason than it reminded you of Drake. Someone else you fucking despised.

"Don't touch my car." You said, voice flat.

"Oh, er. My bad. Nice looking ride."

"Thanks." You said curtly, internally cringing at how he said 'ride' like that. You went around and grabbed the vast array of things you always hauled with you. Said items for today consisted of your gym bag, your workbag, your lunch bag and your comically large 2.5L water bottle. You always were carrying a lot.

"Need help?"

"No."

"I insist."

"Don't."

"Why you always gotta play hard to get?"

You said nothing, forcefully biting your tongue. You were out of practice with Lance Stroll's shit since Domenicali had finally relented and cut the amount of shifts you would be rostered on Aston Martin. Which had been a shame since the crew were quite nice and you really taking the piss with Nando.

Still, Lance Stroll was insufferable - and you were evidently out of practice dealing with his spoiled delusions. You were just glad his father wasn't around. God help you when it came to the European races.

"I have to get to work." You said and locked your car. There was a call from behind where some Aston Martin people were waiting Lance but he ignored them. Instead, falling into step with you.

"I don't see you around Aston Martin anymore." He said, trying to make conversation.

You kept ignoring him, hoping he'd get the hint. Pulling out your phone, you started to compose a to text to Oscar. He would coming here with Lily and had said something about finally introducing the two of you. Your eyes checked the time at the top of your phone screen. Based on what time it was, Oscar should've been here by now - and could save you from Lance Stroll.

to: piazzas 👼

where the fuck are u ?? lance stroll is trying to talk to me send help

"I don't know." Was all you said, typing away with one hand as the other held a bag, hoodie, bottle and lanyard. You lifted the arm to tap in through the gate and then continued to ignore Lance - who continued to walk beside you and speak.

"That wouldn't be because you're working for McLaren." Lance said. This made you fingers pause as the blatant comment caught you off-guard. You sucked your teeth and took a deep breath. You adjusted your grip on your bags and continued to type another message.

to: piazzas 👼

srsly im gonna fucking rage at this point

"I don't know what you're on about." You said and felt relief seeing the Read time-stamp arrive below your sent message and three dots finally pop up as Oscar typed a response.

Lance made that irritating sound - his laugh. "You know my dad will pay you double what they're paying."

from: piazzas 👼

I'm at the McLaren motorhome. In a meeting with some PR. Can you come?

You huffed and pocketed your phone. Your shift was at Ferrari today and so there was no logical reason for you to walk into McLaren. Then again, it was early and you were yet to get dressed. It should be okay. People rarely noticed you since you looked like some random trainer with the amount of stuff you always carried.

Except, right now, Lance Stroll was not getting the hint and pissing off. Meaning you couldn't exactly freely walk into McLaren no questions asked.

Especially after that comment about you working for McLaren.

"What do you say?" The annoying idiot stood there, still waiting on you apparently.

"What?" You asked, shifting the items in your hand and pausing in your steps. You were in front of Ferrari right now and considered going in to dump your stuff before sneaking off to McLaren. That would at least get rid of Lance.

"Just say the number. How much. Dad wants you onboard and so do I. And all that legal stuff we can sort out." Lance said with a nonchalant shrug that pissed you off more than it should've. "My trainer isn't really working for me anyway."

You stared at him. Was he being serious right now? Your mouth fell open at the audacity and you glanced at his manager behind him who was looking up at the sky, clearly uncomfortable.

But, of course, unable to say anything.

"Ah, Stroll! Mademoiselle is with us today!" You turned your head to the French accent of your other favourite Team Principle. Fred Vasseur arrived with one half of the Scuderia drivers beside him. Your eyes widened on the sight of Carlos there, sunglasses pushed up in the head of hair that had its own fan-accounts and was the star of many, many Tiktok thirst edits.

Fuck.

Last night, your uncle had thrown you for a loop. Carlos Sainz had somehow infiltrated your uncle's sphere with a video of him refusing to sign a Barcelona jersey.

This, your uncle took as a good omen and a worth his approval.

"Approval for what?"

"None of these drivers are worth your time. But this one seems good." Your uncle's voice had sounded through the speaker function of your phone as you balanced a ball on your head. Last night you had present for his usual call to his sister and Dia was adamant you cop it.

And cop it you did. His newest idea was not Jude or Vinicius - but apparently Carlos Sainz.

"What? Because Carlos didn't sign a Messi jersey?"

"His name is Carlos?" Your uncle had asked and you had, in turn, just groaned. You half expected him to make some ridiculous comment about the similar names being a good omen or something.

"Yeah. Carlos Sainz."

"Sainz? Hm." There was a short pause from your uncle. "Is his father a rally driver?"

"Yes." You had frowned, not expecting that.

"Ah! I know him. Good family."

"What?" You said, still stuck on how your uncle knew the Sainz family. "How do you know him?"

"Why didn't you tell me about him before?"

"Because... I never noticed Carlos." The football you had been kicking slowed as you found yourself frowning at the phone on the kitchen table. "It's... I don't know. It's just Carlos."

"I want you to talk to him. To 'Just Carlos' as you say." Your uncle was not relenting. "Go have dinner together. He has a good face."

Your uncle's attempts to get you married to what he deemed was a 'respectable man' and not, in his opinion, 'some limpy Frenchman' (you would often remind him Charles was from Monaco nor was it was like that between you two) or 'some tatted up Australian wanna be Italian' (you would also remind that Daniel barely identified as Italian). However, all of your uncle Carlo's options had always been footballers which, you and Dia knew, was just a ploy to move you from car circuits to football pitches.

But last night, you found, Carlos Sainz apparently had the Ancelotti tick of approval and he was adamant you and Carlos apparently go out for dinner.

You took your uncle's comments to be why you suddenly found yourself feeling a little awkward seeing the driver in the flesh. The on you admittedly never paid much attention to before.

"Maybe next race you can have her." The Spanish driver - who apparently had your uncle's approval - said. Carlos took a sip from the small coffee cup in hand. He was on his piccolo, you noted.

Carlos came up to you and you felt yourself caught out and taken aback by him openly reaching for the strap of your gym bag and your bottle, prying them for your hands. The surprise had you letting go and once Carlos had a grip on them, he nodded at everyone in green. "See you guys on track." And put a hand on your back to guide you into the home. His clear dismissal towards Lance made you smile and it made your face warm up even more.

Your smile dropped.

What the fuck?

"Um. Thank you." You said, once you were out of earshot.

"He's an idiot." Carlos said, with a tired sigh. This made you laugh.

"You're telling me."

It was then that you realised your laugh was nervous. You cleared your throat. You were going to rip into your uncle. And then yourself for being so stupid. Because this was stupid. You barely ever noticed Carlos. What? You find out he really hates Barcelona and has really, really great hair and suddenly you're tongue-tied around him?

"Ha. Yeah. I get that. And I can hold that." You went to reach for the strap of your bag on his shoulder. Carlos moved away.

"Don't insult me." He said, tsking you with a grin on his face. "Let's go. Fred spoke all morning about your pizzas."

"Yes! I did." Fred said, reappearing with his assistant who was handing him a paper he was half reading as he spoke. "Guenther didn't let me have any last time."

You couldn't but smile, remembering Guenther's loud curses echoing throughout all of Haas when he found you plating some aside for Fred. You gave Fred a salute. "I'll get right to it. Let me just dump my things in the backroom."

"I'll take them there." Carlos said, evidently not relenting. You sighed and let him carry them for you as you both made your way to the backroom.

Unfortunately, this meant walking through the entire motorhome in which case many Ferrari staff did a double take seeing you walk with Carlos. Whilst it wasn't uncommon to see you around, nor for you to have any interactions with drivers - you literally made their food and coffee - but Carlos was holding all your many, many belongings and walking to the small backroom that were reserved for Hospitality.

"Thank you." You said, appreciating the chivalry. What you didn't appreciate, however, was how your body was reacting to Carlos.

You didn't get why you were suddenly so... hyperaware around Carlos. Seeing driver content wasn't something new to you. Why did it affect you like this? Maybe addressing it would just help.

And so your mouth just came out with it.

"My uncle likes you."

"What?"

You quickly elaborated. "He saw a video of you refusing to sign a Barca jersey."

Your uncle had even sent you said video of Carlos, the driver windswept in his Ferrari, driving off when a fan passed him a pen and the jersey. You had to admit he did look good in the video and the way he drove off like that had made your eyebrows shoot up, impressed.

"Your uncle... Don Ancelotti?"

"Yeah." You said with a laugh at the name. The Don. You were proud of your uncle and what he achieved, earning him such a nickname. Dia always said her brother's intimidating Don cigar smoking aura had been passed down to you - and not his own children/your cousins.

You weren't surprised Carlos knew about who your uncle was. It wasn't exactly a secret. And considering the world of Formula 1, that wasn't even the craziest connection for someone working in the Paddock. An Alpine techie was distant cousins with Mbappé, a Haas mechanic was close cousins with LeBron, and Valentino Rossi's babysister's best friend's brother was a PR manager for George Russell.

So, no. No one really paid much attention to you and your uncle. The most it had ever come up was the odd few comments of the Paddock's EPL fans coming to you lamenting Carlo Ancelotti moving from Everton to Real Madrid.

"Woah, that's pretty cool." Carlos said, his eyes widening. "I definitely need to let my dad know."

"Apparently they know each other?" You asked, hoping he might shed more light on the connection your uncle somehow had to Sainz Sr. Your uncle hadn't managed to explain that curious bit.

"Do they? He never said." He said and you blew a raspberry. You really were going to give your uncle a piece of your mind. You shook your head and Carlos laughed, saying something that went to deaf ears as he took his sunglasses off his head - causing some strands to fall across his forehead as he was looking down at you.

Fuck.

He used the other hand to run through said black locks.

Double fuck.

The man seriously could've made it as a hair model.

You looked down from his hair to meet his eyes and felt yourself flush even more knowing he'd caught you staring at his hair. You cleared your throat again - when had it gotten so dry? - and spoke. "You um, you could really make bank doing hair endorsements, you know?"

"Bank?" Carlos asked, not picking up the slang.

"Money." You explained the slang and then thought of the Spanish translation. "El dinero."

"Ah, so was it the Don who taught you Spanish?" Carlos asked, lips turning up to grin.

"Nah I don't really speak Spanish." You shook your head and explained. "I just know that word from some from lyrics and stuff."

"Stuff? From living in Los Angeles?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. You blinked, surprised he knew that tidbit about you. "I remember you telling Max about it back in Torro Rosso."

Carlos' observational skills evidently had you in surprise. First it was him remembering your Egyptian heritage and now this?

"I, uh. Yeah for a year and a bit. I worked in a garage." You explained, feeling more awkward and, well, something else that you refused to acknowledge as nervousness.

You didn't get nervous. You had literally served countless celebrities and prided yourself on not getting starstruck or fucking nervous.

And yet, here was Carlos running a hand through his hair catching you off guard with how hyperaware you were of him.

"Ah." Carlos laughed and you stared at the way a thin gold chain glittered around his wrist. "Well, if you know any hair sponsors you'd recommend, let me know."

"Oh, yeah. Done." You said, going back to the previous conversation. "But I'm expecting a cut, then." You said, opening up a locker and beginning to stuff the bags into it. "Hoy por ti - "

" - mañana por mi." Carlos finished the phrase, amused. "It's different in Spanish, though, you know?"

"What is?"

"English you say scratch my back or something. In Spanish it's more about generosity. You take care of me so I will take care of you next."

"Oh." You said, taking in the mini Spanish lesson. Admittedly all your Spanish came from working with Tyler in the garage on Fairfax Ave and, of course, song lyrics. There had been a few funny conversations with Fernando - but nothing intimate such as I will take care of you.

You didn't really know what to say next. Your face was already flushed and you'd probably be able to cook something on your cheek from how hot it was.

You were going to kill your uncle. Real Madrid could win Champions League without him. And even if they didn't - well, Guenther would be happy to see another team finally have a chance.

"Also," Carlos casually continued, unfazed - or not noticing - your lull, "there's going to be a game tomorrow night. I'm not sure if you were planning to watch it."

Thankfully, his words momentarily did distract you from the inner monologue. Real Madrid wasn't playing this weekend. Atletico Madrid was.

Maybe it was Carlos being from Madrid or following the Spanish league religiously but, either way, it wasn't a game you had intended to watch.

"Oh, I mean I like Griezmann." You said, referring to the famed Atletico player, "but I don't watch La Liga games unless Real Madrid is playing." Besides, if you showed any interest in any other team, The Don would have your head. Your uncle still didn't know you owned a jersey of another team. Even if it was only for Mo Salah.

"No, the Liverpool game." Carlos corrected. "They're playing Manchester United, are they not?"

This was surprising. There had been no indication in the past of Carlos ever caring about any other team besides Real Madrid - let alone being that interested a whole other league. If you ever were going to talk EPL with a driver, it was probably a passing conversation with Lewis. Maybe George if the Wolves were involved. And that was when the drivers themselves initiated the conversation.

Max, and his love for your team's biggest rival Barcelona, was who you used to talk to about football, who you used to stay up and watch games or play Fifa with.

And since that was no more, you sort of lost any passion for it.

So this was very much news to you.

Carlos Sainz. Talking to you about EPL.

More than that - asking you if you were going to watch an EPL game.

"Uh, yeah maybe." You finally spoke. During your drive to work, you had vaguely thought about changing your schedule so as to be able to watch the game. You had played around with the idea of doing a workout after your shift tomorrow so you could stay up after qualifying and watch the match.

The only issue was that this would you mean you wouldn't be able to work out before the race on Sunday - and you were definitely going to be stressed working a whole weekend at Ferrari.

But if you watched it you could stream it on one of the TVs in the driver's gym - that way Oscar could workout with you also.

Suffice to say, you hadn't yet made up your mind.

"Lando and I were going to watch it. He's a fan of Manchester United." Carlos said, looking at you expectantly. "Don't worry, I won't tell the Don."

It was that look which made your eyes widen slightly, the thought suddenly dawning on you: was Carlos asking to watch the game together?

Something erupted in your stomach.

However, your reflex to any driver interaction had immediately kicked in.

"Oh, nice. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to watch it with the schedule. You guys enjoy, though."

Carlos opened his mouth but thankfully someone, a man dressed in the red uniform, appeared in the doorway calling for Carlos. The interruption was very much welcomed as the driver nodded and was resolved to leave you before your body gave you any more confusing signals.

You took a second, a steading second, before you slammed your locked shut and went out to look for Oscar.

“And there’s the young rookie, Oscar Piastri. Looking really good after his amazing win in Jeddah. 9th, outperforming everyone’s expectations!"

“Yes! He’s just arrived with his - is that his trainer?”

“She looks tough enough to be one. Wait is that — “

The commentators immediately realise and change the subject to something else to do with Fernando’s winning streak and Aston Martin’s upgrades. You sigh at the clip that had been playing on the TV in front of you where you could be seen handing him the Antinal Dia had been adamant Oscar have.

Zak had informed Oscar who had informed you about the conversations had between all the TPs about, well, you.

It was startling to say the least. 

"I'm afraid people are starting to catch on." Oscar's PR Manager said with a stern look as she stared at both you and Oscar. Her name was Sophie and despite her young age putting her in the same ball-park as you and Oscar... it still felt like you both were students in trouble, being told off by your teacher.

Oscar had asked you about a Sophie Wright a few months ago. You briefly knew of the girl from her interning days, following other PR members around the McLaren motorhome over the years. She was a little on the shorter side, the chubbier side and, unfortunately, these two appearance traits meant she was excluded from the other PR girls who definitely already had a group chat going.

However, you also knew this meant she would be good at her job. Sophie could blend in the background quietly, unnoticed and do her job well. You also doubted she would easily jump around for a better opportunity and do Oscar dirty. Then there was the fact that when you served her a skinny latte one time, she made sure to read your name badge and thank you with a genuine smile.

And so you had given Oscar the thumbs up.

Never, in a million years, did you think you would be here though. Getting a debrief from her as Sophie tapped on her iPad. You risked a glance at Oscar who looked indifferent and nonplussed.

"Sorry Soph," he said, "but I'm not exactly aware what this means exactly."

There was some noise at the door and in walked Zak Brown himself. He was still talking to someone outside in the hall and said a 'yep, bye!' and then finally turned to address the room he was halfway in. "Ah, here we are. Just the people I need to see." His eyes fell on you and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

"No trouble at all. I know you're friends with Oscar and just wanting to help him out." Zak said, coming to sit down. "Ah, so you've seen the clips." He looked at the TV where Sophie's iPad was still screensharing the clip from yesterday.

Thursday's media days was always the least loved day for everyone - save for the bloodthirsty journalists. Drivers hated all the mundane questions and the paranoia of microphones and cameras everywhere. And you hated media day because it meant extra long barista shifts.

"Yes, Sophie showed me before but I thought Tezza should see it." Oscar explained, using your nickname. Your heart warmed at how considerate that was. You met his eyes and smiled softly at him. Your love for the kid grew daily.

"Good thinking!" Zak said, nodding agreeably to his driver. You fought to keep your face passive as you regarded the McLaren CEO.

Your opinion of Zak Brown was that he got further than he ever dreamt to get from starring on Wheel of Fortune. And whilst you did admire him for not being brought up in the snobbery and pretentiousness of the generational wealth that F1 tends to circulate through... you did note how he sucked up to the those snobs and their pretentious generational wealth.

Namely, how he did anything and everything for to make Lando Norris happy. In your opinion, it was a lil cringe at times.

"Well, the problem is that it's getting harder and harder for me to just make it out to the rest of the Paddock that you and Oscar are just friends spotting one another at the gym." Zak said. "Christian Horner is running rampant, scared you'll turn Oscar into the next Max Verstappen."

You snorted at this. Unfortunately this drew everyone's attention to you and you knew you would need to explain. "Max and Oscar are polar opposites."

Oscar could very easily become a World Champion without you. He was smart, dedicated and very talented. And whilst Max was all those things, he didn't need someone to train him up so much as tame him down after all that Jos did to him. You guys had just as much sessions on anger management as you had sessions on endurance training.

"Either way, it's coming to be viewed as a breach." Zak said. "And if you breach your contract then - "

"I know." You interrupted him. He didn't need to explain that to you.

"There's also the issue that people think you two are dating." Sophie spoke up from the front. She tapped on her iPad a few times and up came up a few screenshots of Twitter threads hypothesising about the two of you. "Your Twitter had a followed increase of 150% since Oscar followed you. Which didn't help."

"And whose fault was that?" You said, looking at Oscar with an unimpressed look. "You're lucky I deleted that shit so quickly."

"Yeah look, my bad. The timing was off." He said, accepting responsibility. You still remember all the notifications of the Twitter shit-storm Oscar set off. You literally had to delete your account because of it.

"Yes, Christian did bring that up." Zak said. "And it's a good thing Oscar's lovely Lauren is here - "

"Lily, sir." Sophie quickly corrected her boss. You wanted to groan. Oscar just looked down to hide his smile. Under the table, you kicked at his legs.

"Lily! Sorry." He gave a sheepish look to Oscar. "Yes, you and Lily this morning was a good idea."

"Unfortunately, Daniel did like a few of these Tweets." Sophie added, bringing up the screenshots of a Tweet about you and Oscar that was liked by none other than @danielricciardo.

You clenched your fist, your nails digging into your palm as you thought of how fucking petty that was. Daniel wasn't a fucking idiot. Aside from the fact that he knew your type - (admittedly, the tall/dark features combination always got you) Oscar was so young.

If anything, you thought of Oscar, genuinely, as a younger brother. As you had Max. Daniel knew that. So he knew exactly what he was doing by liking those kind of fucking Tweets. Tweets you wouldn't put past Red Bull to send out themselves.

Because, if anything, they would be praying it wouldn't be true about you and Oscar. Otherwise Christian Horner wouldn't have any leg to stand on. That was how you got around being connected to Charles, anyway. Family was the exception.

"I know your contract has you tied to only working for Red Bull and Ferrari's drivers but--"

"Red Bull and Charles Leclerc." You corrected in a tight voice, your eyes falling down to the table in front of you. "I was only granted exemption to work with Charles as he was considered family."

This caused him to frown as he pulled out his phone and began typing at it. "I thought you were allowed to work for Red Bull or Ferrari. No new teams."

"Yeah, no." You said, making Oscar chuckle at the Australianism. "No new teams outside of Red Bull and Torro Rosso." You specified.

"Christian didn't say that." Zak said.

"It was kept really quiet." You explained. "Charles was, um, he granted exemption from my Red Bull contract because he - well, he was considered family." You cleared your throat, not able to even look at Oscar. "I was signed for Torro Rosso and Red Bull. Never Ferrari."

"That's not what Toto said at the meeting." Zak said, shaking his head. "He made it seem that you could work for Ferrari."

You said nothing. Toto Wolff had approached you once or twice but your answer had always been the same, no matter what he offered. Eventually, he dropped it. You just didn't realise he dropped it because Toto had sought out the fine print.

"Wait so why aren't you Charles' trainer?" Zak asked, looking up from his phone. "He'd be insane to not have you!"

You froze. How were you supposed to answer that? For once, you had hoped the F1 rumour mill had properly run its course and Zak would know better than to ask that obvious question.

"Eh, Leclerc's loss." Oscar interjected with a casual shrug. "Let's be glad we don't need to worry about that."

The hidden meaning behind his smooth words were clear and you felt your love for the boy increase tenfold at his save.

"What - if I may," Sophie started, trying to be sensitive with her wording and her eyes darted between you and Oscar, "what were the grounds for family?"

You took a moment to think of how you might answer. You really didn't want to but if this might help the boy beside you, you would. "Charles - and I, like, I dunno. We grew up together? Everyone just knew." You pulled at your hoodie sleeve, feeling every bit uncomfortable with the question.

"You didn't date?" Sophie asked. Your face must've shown something very unpleasant because she was quick to amend. "I'm only saying because the grounds for family are always a grey area."

You pressed your lips together and went back to staring at the table. "There was nothing romantic between Charles and I." You said. The room fell silent for a moment as Zak tapped on his screen a few times and then he spoke up.

"You also trained Daniel. He told me in 2021." Zak said and put the phone down and you wanted to roll you eyes. Of course Daniel would say that. "And I don't want to get into all the drama but you were dating him back when you were training Verstappen."

Zak did have a point.

A key point that you had forgotten.

You paused and watched the screen in front of you and the liked by @danielricciardo Tweet. "Christian's always had a soft spot for Daniel so..." You trailed off. "But yeah, you're right. It was fine even though I was contracted to Max under Torro Rosso then Red Bull."

"Hm." Zak said, bringing a hand to his chin as he leaned back, pensive, in his chair. "I can see how romantic grounds could be argued." He said it with a laugh, looking between you and Oscar.

You raised an eyebrow at the comment. You honestly weren't sure if this was just Zak Brown being Zak Brown - i.e saying dumb things to suck up since he was out of his element - or if he actually meant that. Either way, it pissed you off.

Because there was no fucking way you'd let that happen to Oscar.

"No it can't. Contracts aside, I'm not forcing someone I think of as my younger brother into a PR relationship with me." You said.

"It could work, though." Sophie said, taking a professional tone as you turned your glare to her. "This is what I was trying to say before. The Twitter comments about you and Oscar are not necessarily negative. If anything you've helped increased Oscar's public image and Red Bull wouldn't able to say anything about you two on romantic family grounds."

You were seething.

Thankfully, Oscar was more level-headed than you.

"Yeah, look guys. Tezza's pretty but not my type." He finally chimed in, lighthearted. "Besides, I think we should focus more on the car and that way it's a fair advantage to both me and Lando."

You looked back at him and took a deep breath. Oscar smiled at you, chill as always, and you took another breath. You wanted to give the boy a big hug.

"Look, Zak," you said, looking back at the TP, calming down a little more, "I'm sorry. I'm causing you all this shit."

"You got Oscar into the points." Zak waved off. "Don't worry about it. I just want to find a way that works for everyone." You sucked on your teeth. Whilst it was nice to know that Zak Brown was willing to take risks on you also wanted to know how this conversation would've gone if Oscar hadn't finished 9th in Jeddah last weekend.

Such was the way of F1.

Sophie then tapped on her iPad and the TV showed a picture taken by Ky Millman. It was of Oscar hugging you after the win in Jeddah. Some comments were displayed and you found your lips turning up as you read them. They were, as Sophie said, sort of positive.

kymillman

liked by mclaren, saintescuderia and 15'483 others

kymillman SUPPORT FOR SUCCESS! Oscar surprised many with his amazing performance in Jeddah and goes to celebrate with a F1 Hospitality worker and friend @ynusername!

view all 76 comments

halaaaamadrid girl help his shoe game pls

ln44girlieee @mclaren we need content from this duo plssss u have them right there

logansversion as if mclaren is going to post a couple?

f1fanforever they're friends?

ln44girlieee idc the level of sarcasm between them would be SO GOOD

oscarpastries i love THIS! 😫😫😫

justanotherinchident omg charles finna be RIOTING!

team44roscoes wait why would charles be upset ?? i thought @ynusername was with dannyric?

maxiel4eva_16 yeh 😒 jumping on all them aussies

You rolled your eyes at the last comment. Maybe it was a good thing you were off Twitter and barely used Instagram anymore.

"It'll be hard to argue that Oscar is family since you haven't known him as long as you did with Charles," Sophie spoke up, bringing your attention back to her, "but we can maybe try to build it up from a PR point a view."

"That Oscar and I are family and not dating?" You asked. Sophie nodded. You looked at Oscar, wanting his confirmation.

"Yeah, sure thing Vin Diesel." He laughed.

"Hey, hey. Fuck you." The grin on your face was contagious and he broke out laughing also. You liked this new idea and turned back to look at Sophie a lot more positively. You were glad McLaren gave Oscar the girl.

"Okay, so what do we do to show the world I've adopted Oscar?" You asked.

"I think you'll find my dad's already half adopted you." Oscar corrected. "He wants to see your Supra."

"That's perfect!" Sophie said, excited. "Maybe Oscar can post a story of the interaction sometime this weekend? Make sure Lily is there. Maybe you can play the tired third wheel of them!" Sophie looked at you as ranted off her ideas. You nodded, suddenly less excited.

Whilst it was nice to know there was a plan in place to help you and Oscar continue to work together, you didn't like the way Sophie said for you 'play' a role. The one, sole consolation you had going for you these past few years was the lack of needing to play any PR role. Hearing Sophie speak was giving you flashbacks to times long gone.

"Happy with that gang?" Zak said, placing his palms on the table. "We'll work on building the PR and hopefully that will get Red Bull off our back as we also improve the car!" He stood up and left, not joining Sophie and Oscar as they said goodbye to the boss.

"Wait, does this mean I need to actually start using Instagram?" You asked.

"Yes." Sophie said. Then she looked up from her iPad. "Don't you? You were tagged in it?"

"Like, I have an account but I stopped using it. I'm pretty sure I deleted the app." You said, pulling out your phone to see that yes, there was no pink app downloaded. You pressed the download button, knowing what was in store for you.

"Download it. You're already at 2.4k followers." She said, bringing up your profile on the TV screen.

"The fuck? I had like three hundred last time I checked."

"Five." Sophie corrected. "Your growth has increased since you started training the F2 winner who follower Y/N Tessio after the most controversial Formula 1 Tweet that ever was Tweeted." Sophie said, eyeing Oscar with a raised eyebrow.

"I already said sorry about that."

"Do you know how stressful you made my first day? Helen scared me!" Sophie asked, humour on her face. "Though, nothing like jumping in the deep end."

The Instagram app had finishing downloading and you logged onto it - thank you pre-saved passwords - to be met with a fucking plethora of notifications that suddenly had you overwhelmed. As such, you immediately went out of the app and put your phone in your pocket. You could deal with that all later.

"I'm not using Twitter again." You said, thinking back to the Tweets Daniel had liked. "Fuck that."

"Yes, only Tumblr or Reddit over here." Oscar said, pointing to you.

"Tumblr?" Sophie looked at you, surprised.

"Yeah? What of it?" You asked, defensive.

"Nothing. Just surprised. I would ask to follow you but Tumblr is the safe haven of anonymity. I get it." She nodded. "Alright, perfect. I'll draft up a PR plan. In the mean time, do you mind if I review your profile and send you some tips?" Looking at you for the last bit.

"By all means." You said, half wishing you could give her control of it like Oscar and be done with it. You just wanted to be able to work with Oscar without causing him any trouble and not having to worry about this PR bullshit.

"Perfect!" She said, beaming.

Your phone buzzed. It was a text reminder about you needing to go back to check on some dough you'd prepared. Back at Ferrari. You sighed and stood up.

"Alright, sounds good. I gotta get back to work. Take your supplements and electrolytes. The green one." The last bit was aimed at Oscar as you met his eyes and then turned to leave the room and walk, head down, out of the McLaren motorhome.

You took a deep breath as soon as you made it into the open air. With how things were going, it was likely that you would be having another gym session today. You arrived at Ferrari and saw the back of Carlos' head. You felt yourself gulp and turned to hide behind the coffee machine. Maybe you would watch Liverpool play.

The mention of your connection to soccer was also pointed out in the room you had just rushed out of. Sophie made a small sound and rounded on Oscar, shoving something in his face.

"Did you know that half of Real Madrid are following her? Jude Bellingham just commented on the post!"

She stared at Oscar, hoping he might provide an answer. The young driver just shrugged. "She did say something about her uncle coaching a team." Sophie stared at him, incredulous. "How was I to know? I don't watch soccer."

< prev ch [6] | next ch [8] >

taglist:

@eugene-emt-roe @spookystitchery @vicurious28 @taytaylala12 @c-losur3

@hiireadstuff @samantha-chicago @fionaschicken @casperlikej @bookstore-of-dreams

@itsjustkhaos @sam-is-lost @laneyspaulding19 @formula1mount @bokutos-babyowl

@stampiej @alilcloudy @bingussthirdtoe @sisinever @lilymurphy03

@inlovewmarlenemckinnon @charllleclerc @richardniixon @sp1rl @nikfigueiredo

[dex0s]

IMAGINE!

WARNING! ♫ !dark content ahead! gore(hand getting cut off), abuse, obsession, and miscarriage!♬ (before you get confused reader and the husband gives their semen to a surrogate mother)

⇨ 𝟷𝟶/𝟷𝟻/𝟸𝟹 ⇦ ♡ Wₒᵣd cₒᵤₙₜ ₋ ₆₅₇ ♡

YOUR YANDERE HUSBAND! Have been in marriage for 5 years. And it’s the worst 5 years you ever experienced abuse, forced pregnancy, two miscarriages but that man just wouldn’t stop until he had baby trapped you. And when he finally got a baby he wasn’t satisfied so he tried to force you to have another with a different donor, lucky you got away before anything can happen. Then you finally had your baby a beautiful baby girl, she was an angel compared to your husband and you hope she would stay like that. Now it’s your daughter’s 17th birthday and you hope the birthday gift you will give her will go as planned.

First, the arguing. “You know you should stop spoiling that kid so much when you can’t even do the same for your husband” he said, “why should I? She’s my flesh and bones plus she’s an angel unlike you” you answered back. You can see the redness/anger rising to his face, good now continue too anger him and take it outside. “What happened to the obedient person I married. Why are you so bold right now?” He tried stay calm but you can see him about the explode. “Why don’t we take this outside. I don’t want my angel to hear us fight” as you say that you walk outside because if you didn’t he would’ve said why can’t they talk right there.

Now that you guys right both outside it’s time for the second plan. “Now why come out here when we could just-“ Run to the door and lock it that was second plan but that man had other ideas. Just has you were going to close and lock the door your “husband” in question puts his hand between the door. “OW! You little shit! Once I get you, you better pray to whatever god you worship that I don’t snap that pretty neck of yours” he yelled while trying to push the door open.

As you continue to fight him to shut the door he grabs your hand and you start to scream and panic due to your hand about fall off the door. As you thought of the things he will do to you once the door is open in the corner of your eye. You can see your daughter running right at you closing your eyes only thinking that maybe you wrong about your daughter being a angel-“AAHH!? THE FUCK!” Quickly opening your eyes you see your daughter cutting out your husband hand that is grabbing you or was grabbing you. Your daughter quickly locks the door and you can hear your husband cursing like a hellhound. You quickly shake your hand to get the hand off of you and turn towards your daughter. “Come up we have to go” you grab her hand and run to the back door but also get the keys.

You guys get the the backyard and see your neighbor waving at you to hurry and jump the fence. “Are you okay dear” asked the 40 year-old lady. “Y-yea but do you know where the directions to the church is?” You asked in a hurry “Oh! Just jump over the fence in the far back side of the garage and go straight ahead until you hit a light and you should see it.” She answers and you thank her and take your daughter to the fence and you hear someone you didn’t want to hear at the time. “Where are they”he asked, “what are you talking about sir?” The poor lady answered. “ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION” he yells before you jump the fence you can see the lady shaking then after you jumped it you started to run and not looking back but of course your “husband” had to do the final blow. “(Y/N) when I get my hands on you just know that you won’t be my living bride, but my corpse bride”.

[animentality]

I got sad because I realized that the only good relationship that Dark Urge and Gortash had was with each other.

Gortash got sold by his parents, was abused in hell, barely escaped, and then spent the rest of his life plotting and scheming and refusing to get close to anyone, ultimately even selling another child he took in to the same nightmarish life he'd once escaped from.

Dark Urge was forced to kill their foster family by Bhaal, and then went to a Bhaal temple, where they might've been worshipped, but I highly doubt that the murder cult weirdos really thought of them as a person, and not just an object of worship. It is awful lonely up on that bloody pedestal. Plus the way they beg Bhaal for forgiveness for liking Gortash makes me suspect that it's never happened before.

And then I hold my little heart in my hands and weep for the two of them.

Because I know gortash is a piece of shit who refuses to break the cycle of abuse. And I know the dark urge has murdered a shit ton of people and enjoyed it too.

But...but...your honor ...I still feel sympathy.

I still felt sadness in the house of hope, when that asshole admitted he used to beat Gortash black and blue for fun.

I still felt grief when I read dark urge's letter to their god for ADMIRING someone.

For caring about a person.

And then I found out that dark urge had been living a normal life until they killed their foster parents.

You can say that dark urge enjoyed it, but I just don't think that's the case.

Baldur's Gate 3 has some laughably evil villains but there is nuance. There is humanity in most of the characters, good, evil, and morally gray. Even big baddies. Ketheric Thorm notably has a rather sad backstory full of grief, loneliness, and love turned to madness, Gortash was broken as a child by parents who shattered his ability to care for anyone but himself, and even Orin, if you confront her about Sarevok's relationship to her mother, can even be seen as a tragic figure. Like what the fuck, her own mom tried to kill her as an offering to bhaal.

Maybe all bhaalspawn are laughably one dimensional villains with absolutely no human traits to them, but that's just fucked.

One of my favorite themes is how everyone is a slave to the gods, their playthings, their disposal tools.

Poor Ketheric Thorm said it best when he said that we're just copper pieces to be traded, that we might have beaten him, but the gods beat him first.

He's so right, man. Most if not all the companions are slaves to Gods and devils.

Dark Urge was a slave to Bhaal, just a means to an end, a sharpened blade pressed against the world's throat, and Gortash was the plaything of devils, traded away by parents who didn't care about him, a powerless little boy who'd grow up to be a tyrannical power hungry despot.

I choose to believe they recognized each other. They worked together initially because they had their own agendas, and were doing their usual song and dance of manipulating others, but the more time they spent together, the more they actually liked each other.

They were genuinely friends, or lovers, and it's sickening and it's driving me mad, and it's all so sad.

[kissitbttr]

eddie giving hickies on mean cheerleader's ass and thighs... so help me god

o-okay, y-ywah youer right anon…

[not proofread sorry]

-

to him, it’s always hard to keep his thoughts together when she’s around. aside from her flirty and bratty personality that turn him on, one thing he loves the most is definitely her ass.

and fuck does it look so delicious right now. soft flesh peeking out of the metallica shirt she’s wearing as she lays on her stomach. white lace panties riding up while her fingers mindlessly flicking over a magazine she brought to his place. swinging her legs back and forth as if she’s waiting for someone to take a picture.

he’s holding back a groan seeing her shift into another, yet a comfortable position. the light jiggle of her bum is making his head spin and he can’t think for shit. and now thanks to that, her bum is fully out.

who does she think she is, teasing him like that?

“if you’re zoning out because you are thinking of diana the acrobat, i will kill you.”

the sound of her voice makes him snap out of his thoughts. blinking rapidly as he looks at his girl, sending him a playful glare. with a low chuckle, he moves from his study, letting his long legs carry him towards the bed.

“you’re so hostile, you know that?” he carefully plops himself down on her back, palms gently pressing on each side of her waist to support his weight. “it’s so sexy.”

she shivers when he whispers hotly against her ear. “don’t tell me you’re into that.”

“what, a hot piece of woman with a temper wanting to beat the shit out of me? count me in. especially if the woman is you” he gives a soft peck behind her ear. moving her hair to the other side, giving him a better access.

“you’re crazy” she bites her lip, feeling his mouth nipping against the skin of her neck. “and no funny business. i promised your uncle-“

“come on baby, we’ll be quick. just let me put it in real fast, yeah?” he pleads, slowly grinding his hard on against her ass making her let out a soft moan. “you want it too, don’t you? hm, my pretty girl?”

“eddie” she sighs. he really knows what he’s doing and damn him for being so good at it. “okay, fine just—just be quick with it! i don’t want to give him a bad impression.”

he chuckles, hand going over the waistband of his sweat pants and pulling it down just enough for him to pull his cock out. “sweetheart, you could never give anyone a bad impression.” he grips the base of his length, running it up and down against her soft cheek,

“you know, i always thought about marking your ass.” he says, pulling her panties to the side and tease her folds with his tip making her gasp at the sudden contact,

“would you like that, baby? me giving your sexy ass a few hickies?” he lightly slaps it, causing her to flinch and nod

she never thought she’d become putty in someone else’s hands, let alone a man. even her previous boyfriends never made her feel like this. though she loves being manhandled but never to the point where her brain goes fuzzy and knees weaken

yet here she is, melting under his touch, begging him to ruin her.

“uh-huh. i’d like that.” she arches her ass up. “hurry up and fuck me already”

he loves hearing her whine. especially with that cute tone she uses whenever she begs him for something. it’s a good thing she’s not giving him the ‘bambi eyes’ thingy or else he’d cum all over her ass already

“patience baby, damn” he breathes out, guiding his already hard cock towards her wet cunt, moaning when he carefully slides himself. “you’re so fucking tight how’s that possible?”

his hips begin to snap forward, drawing a shaky breath from y/n as she grips the sheets tightly that her knuckles turn white. the feeling of her sloppy wet cunt around his cock make his head spin, eyes rolling to the back as his jaw go slack.

“you feel so good, baby… so f-fucking good” he moans, dipping his head down to rest his forehead against her shoulder blade. “all for me, huh sweetheart?”

she swears on her mother’s grave no one has ever filled her pussy like this. no matter how many times eddie and her have fucked, she will never get used to his size

eddie tugs her hair when she refuses to answer, mouth earning a soft mewl from her. “answer me, come one” he growls, mouth dangerously close to her ear

“y-yes” she squeaks out, tears begins to form in each corner of her eyes due to rough movement. “all for you, eddie. no one else’s”

he smirks at that, pecking her cheek after before sitting back up. eddie loves this position, it allows him to admire her perfect ass when he fucks her. bonus point when it bounces everytime his hips make a contact with it.

eddie drags his ring cladded fingers down to her soft flesh while quickening up the pace. giving her ass a hard spank it leaves a mark. the action causing her to jolt and whimper. the sound just never fails to make his cock hard

it doesn’t bother her a ton that eddie is always rough with her when it comes to fucking. she loves it.

and since she’s the first ever girl eddie has fucked. she wants him to use her in any way he wanted. to be the fuck toy he never got to have.

he looks up to the mirror in front of them, seeing her eyes shut and her lips parting due to the pain and pleasure he’s giving her just turns him on even more. it drives him to go faster, settling both hands on her hips,

“you’re so big, f-fuck” small moans are escaping from her mouth, hands shaking. “can you cum in me, please?”

the soft pleading tone when she speaks almost makes him cum right there. he knows he has to hold it. “shit, you sure princess?”

she nods her head, staring at him through the mirror. “i’m on the pill anyway. I’m safe.”

“too bad” he leans forward, placing his palms next to her shoulders and shift his entire body weight on her. chest pressing against her back. he kisses her sloppily on the mouth when she tilts her head back, swallowing every gasps and whimpers that continues to drop from her lips,

“would’ve loved to give you a baby” he says bluntly through the kiss. he doesn’t know if he crossed the line with that one, but judging by how she roughly kisses him back, she liked hearing that.

“g-gonna cum” she moans, biting her bottom lip with her glossy eyes looking back at him. “you look so pretty fucking my pussy”

he does look undeniably sexy when he’s like that. mouth open and dampen hair with a chain hanging off his neck as he fucks her into oblivion. looks like a proper rockstar this way.

“shit, are you trying to make me lose my mind ?” he breathes out a laugh, feeling his thrusts beginning to get sloppy“cum on me baby. be a good girl and cum on me”

that does it for her, she cries out his name as her body shakes underneath him. releasing around her cock while he does the same. spilling inside her wet pussy. he groans when he does. keeping himself in that position where his cock is still buried deep to make sure not a single drop of his cum go to waste,

the couple trying to catch their breath. his head drops back down to her clothed back before pulling out. eddie gives her shoulder an open mouthed kiss, then slowly head down to her bare ass. licking and pecking the soft skin.

“what are you doing?” she asks between breaths, craning her neck back and watch her boyfriend playing with her ass. “no more, you’ve worn me out.”

he lets his teeth graze against it, other hand comes up to palm the flesh. squeezing it softly. “marking you, baby” his eyes look back at his girl, even in her sweaty state she still the sexiest woman he has ever seen,

“there.” he looks proud at his artwork, slapping it one more time. “now everybody knows you’re mine.”

“no one’s gonna look at my ass.” she laughs, shaking her head. “unless you want me to show it to them.”

“babe, you know what i mean.” he glares, not liking the thought of someone taking a peek at whats his. “you good?”

“always” she says, kissing his lips. seeing his lips curve into a smile after, her hand pushing back his sweaty locks. “so, want to make me pregnant, huh?”

eddie freezes when he hears that. the smirk on her face when she asks the question make his cheeks go red and his eyes roll,

“shut up” he mumbles, pulling her close to his body so they can lay down together

-

i got a little too carried away ….🧍🏻‍♀️

[normansnt]

Sweet Valentine.

(Platonic!Reader x Huskerdust)

(Implied Reader x Alastor)

Male reader

(Again not my art idk who's sorry but its so good😭💗)

Warnings: None I think

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Stupid fucking, son of a-"

Husker was sitting by the bar and doing something that didn't look like drink mixing.

That was because it indeed wasn't he was trying to make a valentine card but that damn glue just didn't listen to him. He has a lot of glue in his fur now. And you noticed that.

"Heyyyy Husk, how's it... how's it going?" You asked a bit taken aback by what you were seeing...or the lack of understanding of it.

"Ahhh its nothing" He said back in a very grumpy tone.

You slid a bit closer to what he was doing.

You saw a heart cut out (badly) from a pink colored paper and some glitter on the side.

You stared at it for some time and than it clicked. Husk was making a valentine card for someone. The thought melted you heart.

"Husker that is so sweet who is it for?" You asked, eyes sparkling with interest.

"None of your beeswax kid." He answered, still grumpy.

You didn't get offended, this was nothing new to you, Husker was just like that.

However you could clearly see that he was struggling.

"Well, all right but if you need help you know where to find me." You answered with a smile as you left the bar to go to your room.

You knew it was for Angel. But you still wanted to ask to get Husker to admit out loud that he liked him.

You were right, of course, Husk needed help. But he didn't want to go to you. He felt like that would be admitting defeat and since he didn't want to ask anyone else either he turned to the next best thing: romance movies.

And thats how now you were standing in the kitchen with a blown up cake (somehow) a broken table in the middle burnt table cloth on top, and plates and roses shattered on the floor.

"Sooo, Husk, dear, what the hell did you do?" You asked looking at him.

"Ahhh god damn it I just wanted to make a romantic dinner for Angel but it all went to shit." Husk was looking at the floor in defeat.

You chuckled at that.

"Husk you should have just come to me, I've know Angel for a long time now and he is one of my best friends. Listen, Angel does not give a fuck about fancy dinners or roses and shit. The only thing you have to do is be yourself, as cliche as it sounds, just tell him you like him and make him a drink at the bar that would be already enough for him knowing he can spend the evening talking to you."

Husk looked at you in disbelief, but he was relieved. Just sitting by the bar and chatting over a drink was more favorable for him as well.

And so on Valentines day you went down to the bar early in the morning to visit Husk and attempt to sooth his nerves.

That was going to be harder than you thought. Husk was cleaning glasses, bottles, anything he could get his hands on in the bar out of nervousness.

"Heeeyyyy, Husk...you good?" You attempted.

"No, (Y/N) I am in fact NOT good how the heck am I supposed to tell him that I like him."

"You just said it...of course that was in third person lets try in second person next-"

"NO (Y/N) you don't understand I cant do this I'll just give him a drink like usual and we'll talk normally-"

You interrupted Husker by grabbing his ear.

"Oww mother fuck-man what are you doing?"

"Listen to me Husker, this is the day of love and you are in love with Angel there is nothing else to say you have to confess, it will make him so happy."

"How do you know that? What if he just laughs in my face and tells me get my old brain out of the gutter."

You stared at him in disbelief. Of course you knew that Angel likes Husk, you were the first person he told it too. But you cant tell Husk that.

"Husker, do you really think Angel would ever say that?"

"...no"

"Exactly because he is the sweetest guy and you know that, even if he rejects you, people will always be happy if they hear that someone loves them, you will make him happy, and lets face it Angel needs it."

Husk looked at the bottle in his hand and put it down.

"I'll...try my best." He sighed at last.

At that you jumped behind the counter and hugged him.

"Ok, good luck" with those last words you jumped back out and walked away to your hiding place...where you found every other resident except Angel was already excitedly waiting for whats going to happen.

"Erhmm...hey guys whatcha doing here?" You asked them confused.

"Shhh...Angel is coming" shushed you Charlie with an excited smile.

"Ahhh...good morning Husk, have you noticed that the hotel seems kind of empty?" Asked Angel.

"I have not seen anyone except you this morning." Husk was still cleaning glasses, probably for the 3rd time this morning but it helped with his nerves.

"Interesting I guess the couples are celebrating valentines day but I don't know about the others."

You guys just sat behind the corner where you were just out of view and tryed to listen to their conversation.

"Can you hear anything?" Asked you Charlie.

"Yes, someone just said: 'can you hear anything'"

"Ow come on, Alastor cant one of your shadows go closer or something?" Asked the radio demon Veggie.

"My dear it is 9 o'clock in the morning there is no shadow where mine could hide, I'm afraid they would notice me."

You were still busy listening but couldn't hear anything due to the voices behind you.

"Guys, cut it out I'm trying to listen."

"Wow he isssss grumpy thissss morning" commented quietly Pentious.

"No, this is just very important for my dear, he left the bed without even saying good morning to me." Alastor said somewhat grumpy.

To this you turned your head.

"Awww honey I didn't know that meant so much to you I'll make up for it I promise." You answered quickly while you turned back around. Only to be met with Angles chest.

"What the heck are you nosy nellies doing here?" Asked Angel looking at all of you.

"Well...ermm." You looked at Husk for help who showed you a thumbs up. This was all you needed as you jumped to hug Angel.

"We want to congratulate you omg you guys are such a cute couple" you almost yelled excitedly.

Angel chuckled and hugged you back.

"Yeah I guess we are." He answered as he put you down and took hold of Husk's hand.

And with that, the Hazbin Hotel got richer with another couple.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Huskerdust is everything, nothing else matters.💗🥹

Hope you guys liked the story🥰

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 58

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

The Value of a Moment by @a-fools-errand

When Lance’s previously obsolete skills in language suddenly become very useful, he finds himself wondering why aliens can’t account for the fact that humans, particularly him, need sleep and would prefer linear timelines. (Or: an Arrival AU because I love that movie)

yall OBSESSED does not begin to cover it. i have never read a fic where lance was so goddamn cool. and in like. the insanest of ways?? like of course lance is a polyglot but THIS....this is a whole new level. i havent even finished it fully yet but like god this thing is so fucking cool. if ur looking for a longfic stop looking

2. Rest Stop by @flaming-potato-arsonarson

Lance wasn't like the rest of the world. And he had never had a loving mother tell him it made him stronger for it. So he told himself, gathering up his courage and grit to face a world of winged humanity, when he, in fact, has no wings and turns into a mermaid instead. A world that wants him to die. So he'd keep this secret like a knife in his boot, a sharp weapon until he died on his own terms. Not because of who he was. Except, Team Voltron isn't so sure why Lance is all rough edges and sharp points about showing off his wings. Or acting like a member of the Flock in general. It's clear he cares for them, but he's never shown an intimate part of him. Until he has to.

oh god this has gotta be one of my CLASSIC fics. read it a few dozen times. i read it right when it came out, six ish years ago (goddamn), i can remember curling up in my old bunk bad and eating this up as the hours ticked by. i was HOOKED. my jaw was dropped my eyes were glued. could not get enough. if youre looking for mermaid lance with a twist....brother this is it

3. Looking for Rain by @thewriter2

Like most things, it starts with the little things: his smile, his confidence, his talent. Eventually, all these little things add up to one big thing that threatens to crash over them like a heavy rain. But, maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing. Maybe something beautiful would come from it. A 5+1 (really a 10+1) of Lance and Keith falling in love.

oh god guys..... @thewriter2 knows how to fucking haunt you. if a 10+1 (!!) isnt enough for you, i want you to know this line has been echoing in my head since i first read: "He looks at you like you’re a storm and he’s a desert desperate to drown." UM??? EXCUSE ME???? SIMILE OF ALL TIME ACTUALLY???? keith being so so visibly obviously in love with lance is my actual roman empire shit never leaves my mind

4. Astronauts by @thewriter2

When they entered the Blue Lion, Keith was Lance’s rival--the person Lance was working so hard to surpass. But slowly, Lance found himself thinking of Keith less as a rival and more as something close to a friend. So of course, Lance’s traitor of a heart decided that it would be Lance’s kind of friend that it would fall in love with.

tags to sell you: "keith is a dork but lance loves him anyway" (dorky keith my beloved), "hunk is an a+ friend" (yes he is), "lance is a lovesick fool" (yeah), and "allura is older sister goals" yes yes YES you get it. and like....while keith pov is my favourite to write by far, lances pov as he realises he is in love....that will always hold such a special special place in my heart

5. his own worth by frogsterz

In the middle of the conversation, Lance stops talking and no one notices. It’s not like he had been leading the conversation, for he hadn’t been, but somehow the fact that his lack of input or opinion isn’t noticed tightens the grip loneliness has on his heart. He looks down at his food, his face burning, his throat tightening up.

now usually anything but team as family isnt my deal. im not big on classic langst. but keith as a knight in shining armour.....what can i say i am weak willed. deeply. also " It’s what made it worse. I miss home and I miss being held and the rain, and I loved you. I thought you hated me." got me so bad got me WEAK like i have never recovered from that line and i doubt i ever will

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[sanyu-thewitch05]

F! Yuu’s Dad in Twst Wonderland pt. 5

Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4

Please save Yuu’s dad from the boys in this world.

Turns out the boys at RSA are a different type of annoying

Instead of selfish brutish boy, it’s selfless boy polite boy who lives in a fairytale and doesn’t have the self awareness not to be handing out pre-engagement rings to the first person they fall in love with.

Like he has to give Yuu the “Don’t be a Disney Princess talk”

🦀: Yuu, what’s on your fingers?

🦐: My platonic engagement rings.

🦀: You’re what? W-what’s a platonic engagement?

🦐: They said I was really pretty and could tell I had a nice personality and warm spirit in need of help and a permanent place to stay so they slipped a ring on my finger and said that if I still needed help I could stay with them in their manors and castles and all they wanted in return was my love and companionship.

🦀: That last part doesn’t sound pretty platonic.

🍎🐦: Ah, Yuu, here’s the rest of your platonic engagement letters.

Yuu’s dad snatches a letter and opens one.

🦀: My dear Yuu, I crave your presence and companionship wherever I am. Would you please do me the honor of living with me after your graduation?! Oh God, I’ve made a terrible mistake!

Yuu’s dad shakes the rings off her fingers, grabs Grim, and runs out of RSA.

🦐: Dad, where are we going to go?

🦀: Well we haven’t tried NBC?

~~~~~~~~~~

Spoilers: It didn’t last an entire day due to Rollo’s obsession with Yuu not having magic.

Yuu’s dad literally found Rollo on his knees, hands clasped with Yuu’s, begging her to be with him forever so she’ll never have to deal with those “magic freaks” again.

And so, the father, daughter, cat crew is back at Ramshackle.

Which is also where they see a pile of cards on Ramshackle’s doorstep.

🦐: They’re all Valentines Day cards! I completely forgot today was Valentines Day! Malleus’s card is so sweet!

🦀: Lemme see that. “Dearest-“ ugh- “My thanks for such a truly wonderful present. It is only fitting that I should give you something in return. How about the gift of beauty? Perhaps the gift of song? Or…Well, never mind. Just a joke based on the legends, you know. I shall give you something I picked out myself. -Malleus Draconia.” Sweetie, you do realize he indirectly called you ugly, right?

A/N: Real talk, do not accept the feelings of someone who offers you the gift of beauty. Please do not accept the feelings of someone who says they love you but is indirectly calling you ugly at the same time. I am telling you your self-confidence will plummet if you do.

🦐: Well…you know what it does sound like he’s saying I’m ugly. He thinks I’m ugly…HE THINKS I’M UGLY!! *Wails*

🦀: Don’t worry baby, he wouldn’t know what a pretty girl looks like if she hit him. Hell, his father probably abandoned his mother when he found out what her face looked like and realized it passed onto his son.

🦐: Dad…

🦀: No boy is going to insult my baby directly or indirectly and get away with it.

And so your dad storms out of Ramshackle, leaving you alone.

🦀: Malleus, come here!

What ensues is your dad grabbing Malleus by the collar and giving him this interesting sentence.

🦀: Malleus, I swear to God that if you ever make my daughter cry like you did with that stupid fucking letter, I will cut your horns off and have them displayed as a trophy.

⚡️: Let go of Waka-Sama!

Your dad drops him to the ground and gets a phone call from you.

🦐: He’s here and I lost sight of him.

🦀: Who’s at Ramshackle?

🦐: Rook! I saw him in the bushes with a pair of binoculars, and when I looked back he was gone!

🦀: Oh for fucks sake! Honey, don’t worry, I’m coming back as soon as I can.

🦐: *the phone call suddenly ends*

🦀: Shit, this is so not good. Maybe the cat got him and burned him to death. I hope the cat burnt him to death.

When he returns to Ramshackle, he finds you dancing, albeit very uncomfortably, with Rook in the backyard.

🦀: Hey! Hey! HEY! Hands off my daughter, French creep!

🏹: Non, Non, don’t misunderstand my intentions. I was simply inquiring her status about a visitation to Pomefiore. Vil wanted to see if she wanted some of his unused makeup.

🦀: But why are you dancing with her? Why were you in the bushes? Why didn’t you text her? You have her phone number! All of you do actually!

🏹: well quite frankly because you blocked us, and who wouldn’t want to spend time dancing with such a girl under the moonlight while waiting for an answer to a questi-Ah!

Yuu kicks Rook in the crotch and your father couldn’t have been happier

🦀: Good job, sweetie! Though you might want to kick a bit lower next time so instead of hitting the base of his penis, you hit his testes. Lemme show you.

Your dad picks Rook up and stands behind him so Rook’s body isn’t sliding downward.

🦀: Take another chance, honey!

You take another kick hitting Rook in his balls. You squeal in delight that you accomplished your dad’s helpful tip.

🦐: Yay! I did it! Did you see that?!

🦀: Sure did! Let’s bring the cat for a night time treat out in the town.

Your dad goes inside to get the baby carrier and Grim.

Meanwhile your first and second year friends are slowly walking up to you out of fear for what they just saw.

🦐: Oh, hi! What are you guys doing here?

♥️: Umm…💧💧💧….we were going to invite you to a beach party *sees Yuu’s dad walking out with Grim in a baby carrier strapped to his chest* but now I think we should leave and let you get a good nights rest for tomorrow’s academic activities hahaha!

🦐: Oh no, I can totally come to the party! I’m just going with my dad to the town for a snack!

🦀: *mouthing: you better not try anything or let anything happen to my daughter or else everyone will find you like this* *moves his hand to Rook’s body on the ground*

♥️: ….Yessir!

🦀: Come on, Yuu, let’s take you out for a snack and then you can enjoy your party.

You laugh and skip along with the your first and second year friends while your dad squishes Grim’s toe beans.