#and the litter is probably pretty small too

[pizza-soup]

Some updates on Luna. She's doing great so far, her appetite has been a bit off but I'm told that's normal, she's probably feeling a bit of morning sickness, her appetite should start increasing soon. Meanwhile I've just been spoiling her like mad, giving her a very nutritional kitten food which she loves, my room has become her quiet space, and I even close the door so Orion, my other black cat, won't bother her as she sleeps.

The 'Clone' - that's Orion's nickname - seems to know something is up with his 'sister'. She's not attacking him playfully, biting his ears, or being the mischievous little imp she typically is. The change in behavior must be odd to him. For now he grooms her as she kneeds her favorite blanket.

[shuckstruck]

had sort of a weird depressed fit earlier BUT i tackled one of the bigger messes in my room, and it feels good to finally get that off my plate

[taxi-boi]

[melancholyhigh]

ARTWORK

ft. leon x artist!reader

synopsis. you're an artist, and leon's your muse.

content. 1.5k words. fluff, smut. nude painting, leon's pov, needy leon, praise kink, masturbation, handjob.

note. this was j supposed to be fluff but i got ahead of myself.

masterlist. i love your guy's feedback :3

“Paint me like one of your French girls.”

You laugh at Leon’s statement. He’s perched on the small, green couch in your home art studio, wearing nothing but his pink, fluffy robe as you prepare your oil paints. 

“You’re my first French girl, Leon.”

–-

You had suggested painting him nude while you were both in bed, lazing around. You’re in each other’s hold, Leon’s arms around your waist and face on your chest when he asks about any new projects you had in mind. 

He loves hearing about what art piece you were doing or planned to do. It was how you expressed yourself, whether there was a deeper meaning or none at all. He found it beautiful. Every work you do it had a bit of your personality in it. He could tell your work from thousands by the intricate details they carry. 

When you told Leon you wanted to paint him, he wasn’t too surprised. You mentioned he was your favourite thing to draw or think of when you had art block. The admission had left him sputtering, his face red as he tried to get his words out.

On the third date, you showed him your sketchbook, pages littered with drawings and portraits of him. Some were quick sketches, while other’s looked like you took time to get every detail of him. 

You’re always on my mind, Leon. You had confessed. Was it a little creepy? At that moment, flipping through the drawings of him, the attention to detail they held, he’d say it was romantic.

People have always said he was pretty as a picture, yet you’re the only one that makes his heart beat faster and his tummy fill with butterflies when you say he’s the type of gorgeous you’d find in a painting. 

“A nude painting,” you specify. It was as if you told Leon he was the object of your affection for the first time again. His head buries into your chest, trying to hide his flushed face. You smile at his sudden bashfulness. 

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, baby.” You run your fingers through his soft hair. “I want to try something new, but it’s okay. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“‘S fine, angel. But can’t you use a picture?”

“Where’s the fun in that, pretty boy.”

He groans, muffled by your shirt, and you giggle. 

He loves to please you — in more ways than one — and nothing compares to the smile that graces your face, so he agrees. It’s not like Leon’s uncomfortable with you looking at him bare and vulnerable. There were other problems he was worried would interrupt your craftwork. 

–-

Leon leans back into the couch, doing just as you instructed. His bare back hits the soft cushioning, and it’s surprisingly comfortable. 

His robe is off, on the floor next to your easel. He rests his chin on his hand, supported on the arm of the couch.

He’s nervous. You said it’s nothing you haven’t seen before, but this almost feels more intimate than being intertwined with you in bed.

Maybe it’s the gaze you hold when you’re analysing him, grasping the compositions and layering basic shapes onto the canvas. 

He can’t help but think of when you told him he’s your favourite canvas to mark up. Sucking the reddish marks into his skin which turn the prettiest shade of purple, as you like to put it. Or when you said the colour on his cheek was your favourite shade of pink.

You always did like to rile him up, muttering the filthiest things to him in the most mundane setting, just like right now. 

“Spread your legs wider, Leon.” You mumble in a casual tone as if you don’t know the implications of your own words. You’re so engrossed with getting your work right you probably don’t.

It’s so fucking sexy seeing you in your element. Your brows pinched together, and your face serious with concentration. 

He obediently listens to you, parting his legs wide, and the problem he wishes wouldn’t happen is currently hardening between his thighs. You don’t notice, mixing paints to ensure it's the correct shade. 

You’re probably 30 minutes into painting, and he’s already hard. You said you’d take a while to finish, and he could tap out whenever he wants to, but he doesn’t want to disappoint. 

Finally, you’re looking up from the canvas and towards Leon. Your brows quirked up in surprise when trying to examine his features, studying the curve of his nose and the sharpness of his jawline to imitate on the canvas. His face is pink, the shade you know and adore so much. 

Your eyes trail down his body, his dick fully erect, slapping against his stomach. Your gaze is on his face again with a smirk on your lips.

He knows, you know, he’s rock-hard simply from the glances you take at him and the words you mutter. His lashes flutter, and he moves his hand to cover his face while the other is shamefully obscuring his cock.

“Be a good boy, and don’t move, Leon. I want to make sure everything looks good.” You say, and he thinks you aren’t going to acknowledge his 7-inch problem.  

“Oh, and make sure your pretty dick is hard for me, okay, baby?” You go back to your painting, trying to hide your smug expression.  

His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows his nerves, but he relents, going into position, not before giving his cock a firm squeeze. 

“Don’t cum too, okay? I want to be the one making you cry.”

A few hours pass, and Leon is on the verge of tears. He listened to what you said, only providing himself with enough stimulation to keep his cock hard but not enough to tip him over the edge into bliss. 

Precum leaks from the head down to the shaft. His dick is red and spent. He wants nothing more than for you to stop painting and make him cum.

“I’m almost done. You’ve been such a good boy for me, baby.” 

Your words are almost enough to make him spill his cum over the expensive fabric of your eccentric couch. 

You’re adding the finishing touches to the painting with each stroke, making sure you get the placement of each mole or freckle correct and each vein of his cock following to the tip right. 

You swear he belongs in a museum. No art can replicate how beautiful he truly is.

“I’m done.” You sigh, moving to get up to rid your skin of paint. 

After rinsing yourself off the paint, you make your way to Leon. You get comfortable in a seat on the couch right next to him. He’s breathing heavily in anticipation, looking up at you through his long lashes. Pretty, pink lips parted as pretty gasps left him. 

You cup his face, pressing your lips to his. The kiss is soft as you move your lips slowly in unison. He breathes out your name when you pull away. One of your hands moves to his throat, softly squeezing. Leon whimpers, his hands moving to hold your waist.

“Good job, baby. You didn’t cum once. I know it hurts, but I'm going to make you feel better,” you whisper, softly kissing his flushed forehead. 

Your hand moves to his pulsing cock, and gives it a soft squeeze, relishing the whine Leon lets out. Your touch sends goosebumps along his skin, and he plants his head into the crook of your neck. 

His hips eagerly buck into your hold. He’s practically sobbing into your neck, his soft hair tickling the underside of your jaw. You rest your chin on top of his head, smelling the fragrance of his shampoo. 

You thumb the slit on the tip of his cock, using his precum as a lubricant to start moving your hand back and forth on his shaft. 

You start at a slow pace. You don’t want Leon cumming quickly, wanting to enjoy every cry and whimper. 

The soft shlick noise of you jerking Leon’s cock fills the room with his desperate cries. He pulls back away from the crook of your neck, tears flowing down his blushing face.

“Please, please, please, g– go faster, angel. I’ve been such a good boy for you. Let me cum, please.”  He pleads, looking at you with those puppy dog eyes. His hips rutted frantically into your palm. How could you deny your boy?

“Okay, pretty baby. Cum for me.” You say softly, picking up the pace of jerking him off.

He whimpers loudly, thighs quivering lightly as his orgasm crashes and hot spurts of his cum spill onto your hand. He’s panting, dazed with lust and staring at you with what seems like hearts in his eyes. 

“T- thank you, thank you, s’much.” Leon gasps like a broken record, and you think he’s fucked himself dumb with your hand.

You peck his lips, effectively shutting him up.

“Let’s get you cleaned up so I can show you my favourite artwork yet.”

[milkzoro]

humping turned to fucking. who woulda guessed.

t. Law

- clit overstim* creampie* consensual*

\\ ୧⋆｡🕯. -ʚɞ

he was in the perfect position; beneath you on the living room couch, and in between your thighs. you arched your back and grinded up and down, losing yourself in the feeling of almost catching your release against his clothed cock.

soft whimpers left your lips, taking your time with all of your rhythms and motions as you rode him.

he pulled you against him eagerly, probably leaving more than a few fingerprint-sized bruises across your skin. law cared nonetheless, just as long as he could get you close.

his hips tried to fuck into you, but the fabrics containing him prevented it. you could feel him grow restless and become annoyed at the fact that you were moving a little too slow for his liking.

“please— can i fuck you?” he blurted out. the long fingers you knew all too well tugged on your panties as their owner waited for you to answer. “i’m gunna cum if you don’t stop.”

his pleas were cute.

“wanna fuck you so bad, y/n.”

“can i?” …

his eyes turned dark as soon as you allowed him to have more. you slipped off your panties and so desperately needed him to stretch you out. the cold slick of his precum met with your warmth sending shivers across your skin.

he was buried inside you. gifting you lots of deep strokes with his forehead pressed against yours, panting pretty little things like,

… ‘you’re mine.’ … ‘fuck.’ … ‘all mine.’ …

repeatedly.

in the midst of it all, you took his hand in a soft grip and guided them around the tight seal of his cock stretching you out. your fingers remained on top of his, dragging them around slightly to collect the mix of your juices.

curiosity struck his face as he slowed down his rhythms a little, but your pretty expressions made him realize what he was lacking.

you led his fingers to where you needed them the most and your breath shuddered, “i wanna feel it here, law.” your fingers lifted off his, leaving them delicately around your aching little bud.

he mimicked your actions, still hitting you deep but now with the added stimulation to you clit. you couldn’t help but expose yourself more for him.

“law! r-right there…”

you lifted your hips up slightly off the couch for a better angle and immediately you were getting washed with your orgasm. “i’m gonna cum!!! c-CUMMING!!♡”

“shit. me too baby. gimme one more, okay?” he quickly cut you off, groaning and whining feeling the insides of your cunt. his fingers wouldn’t leave your clit as he continued to fuck you into the cushions.

“lawwww-” you cried, feeling too blissed out from all the excess attention he was giving your pussy. a second wave of pleasure was quickly building inside of you. the once cold room was now hot, sticky, and littered with your filthy sounds.

“god, you’ve got such a perfect pussy baby. i’m gonna fill you, okay? cum for me y/n, again.” he demanded.

you couldn’t keep your eyes open and your legs trembled under him, but only a small nod and incoherent nonsense was all that you could give to let him know you would do as he said.

“that’s it, fuckkkkk fuck…..”

as you let go, you kept him has close as you could. immersing yourself in his strong grip and musky sent. simultaneously, you felt his cock spurt inside of you, flooding you with warm sperm.

a kiss to your cheek and forehead came quickly after. followed by an, “i love you.” and many cuddles back on the couch.

——

*lowkey unfinished but hey i made it to wano 🙏🏻

[bambiesfics]

⊹ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭 ⊹

warning: water-sports, extreme overstimulation, graphic depictions of lesbian smut, r!receiving finger bang, sarcastic Ellie, fluff + loving at the end.

vague description: reader has a full bladder and is trapped in Ellie William’s hatchback.

author’s note: re-upload of my fic from last blog, also don’t read this in public. It gets intense.

“Pinup paradise diner…home to… ‘The World’s Bustiest Milkshake Jars?’”

You read, with your face nosed deep into the crease of the monotoned map. You deflated back into your seat, irritated at the amount of eye-strain required to make out such small font. And let the roadmap blanket the top of your thighs.

“Is that where we’re going next?”

Ellie's eyes were intently focused on the red Honda Civic in front of her, the one she’d almost rolled her windows down to spit at, less than a minute ago. Her stacked bracelets clinked as she cracked the knuckles of each one of her boney fingers.

“Is that what it says on the map?”

You flipped back to the legend, squinting at the list of diners, drive-ins, and street trucks. The corner of her plump smile quirked, hearing you mutter,

“Jesus, how do you read this thing?”

Your squint jumped between Ellie and the page, “uhhhh…yes?—yes!”

“Then that’s where we’re going next.” She crudely cracked her pinky last. The last finger with chips of black nail polish speckled on it and a snug silver braided ring that hugged it. She settled into her seat, merging onto the left lane.

“Pinup Paradise? Really? Seems like an odd choice for a drink after going to Whopping Wrap.”

You flipped the map neatly back onto your lap as your girlfriend flicked the blinker up.

“Milkshakes after chicken wraps Ellie? Really?”

“Hey—Tommy said they have the best milkshakes this side of the state. That type of man, the fucking lumberjack he is, does not fuck around when it comes to satiating that gnarly sweet tooth.”

She muttered “He probably has cavities bigger and darker than the cracks in the Grand Canyon.”

And your tiny giggle teased a smile out of Ellie, as she half-heartedly blocked the swats you struck at her with the rolled up map.

Your girlfriend got such a fucked up kick out of busting Tommy’s balls, and he knew it too.

She flicked the signal light up higher once more and cruised right into the strip mall lane that led the car through to the drive-thru, the diner growing closer each second.

In a smooth slow crawl you and your girlfriend rolled towards ‘Pinup Paradise Diner.’

A canary yellow, vintage diner, littered with paintings of 50’s pinup models that decorated all of the glass windows.

A drive-thru swinging sign read ‘The World’s Bustiest Milkshake!’ above the order window.

You were incredibly humored, noting all the double entendres and puns that weaved through the slogans graffitied across the menu board and windows.

A young crew member poked her head out of the order window, smiling tightly before asking for both of your orders. She watched on while Ellie fished for her peeling leather wallet in the back pocket, and poked her head out of the side of the hatchback window.

“Hey, can I grab a blueberry crust milkshake? And she’ll have….” Ellie trailed off, shooting you back a look with her eyebrow raised.

“…What’ll you have?”

“I’ll have a vanilla bean milkshake please. Also could I get a bottled water, if you have that?”

“Okay, so right now we only have the 1 liter sized bottled water.. would that be alright?”

“Ah, I’m sure that’s no problem, I’ll take it. Thank youuu.” you sang, and the girl mirrored your gentle smiled. You settled back into your seat and she closed the window.

“Why’d you get water?”

Ellie observed, hastily touching up her upper and bottom lashes with mascara, in the dash mirror, before she had to put her foot on the gas.

Vain. You teased in your head.

….But so pretty.

The mascara made her already long lashes, even longer. Her dark brown eyeliner was smudged, yet the grittiness was still so attractive on her. “You should wear brown eyeliner more Els. It really brings out the green in your eyes.”

She side-eyed you suspiciously.

“Thanks?…”

And you rolled your eyes. Your girlfriend loved to pretend she was allergic to compliments unless they were talking about her earth-shattering service top abilities.

Ellie grabbed both your milkshakes. And used her teeth to rip the paper cover off her straw while passing you your drink.

She put her foot on the gas and peeled out.

“You still didn’t answer the question.”

“What question?”

“The question of what possessed you to buy an entire liter of water?”

“Because like, you know the sweet aftertaste left in your mouth after you eat something really sweet? I don’t know, but it makes my mouth feel dry.”

“Ah.” she responded.

“…that’s actually real as fuck.”

“Right?” You settled deeper into your seat. Hugging the milkshake to your chest while you stalked a few instagram stories, relaxing into the rhythmic roll of your girlfriend's beat up hatchback.

Townhouses and parked SUV’s started running on either side of the car as Ellie drove on, deeper into suburbia. You pushed yourself up to gaze out the window.

“Where are we going?”

Ellie turned right into a smaller street.

“To find a place to park. I’m tired of driving.”

“Hmm, sorry baby” you hummed as you rubbed her thigh. Your eyes lit up. “Then can I drive your ca—”

“—no. When will you stop asking?”

“When you finally let me drive it? Let me behind the wheel please.”

She scoffed, eyeing you up and down. “So I can end up with my knees touching the back of my skull? Yeah no.”

“You’re not funny Ellie.”

“And you’re the only passenger princess I’ve seen whining to do her girlfriend's job. Be a lady, damn.”

You broke down laughing, clutching your chest while Ellie bit her lip down to put a lid on her own laughter.

You shimmied close to her, your breasts squishing her upper arm.

“Then can I have some of your blueberry shake?”

She circled the straw around your mouth and made you chase it.

“uh ah-uh-hah—Ellie.” You whined.

Ellie barked a laugh at how adorable you looked, and then slotted the straw onto your puckered mouth.

“Mmm…”

“You like?”

“Yeah it’s so yummy. I should’ve gotten that instead.”

Ellie attempted to take her milkshake back, but with some struggle as you leaned further and further into her seat, pressing your front body into her arms just to keep tasting it. You were practically finished your own drink, and were now drinking half of hers. And in that moment you recalled at all the previous times your girlfriend had gripped your ass and whispered how you were a greedy little princess in your ear. Ellie was an asshole through and through.

But she spoiled you, and she loved doing it.

You eased back, and Ellie stole her milkshake back. She circled her tongue around the tip of the straw before sucking it. Wrapping her pink lips around the sticky tip your rosy lip gloss had covered seconds prior.

You dropped your empty cup in the cup holder and went to chug most of your water. It provided an indescribable amount of relief from the saccharine blanket on your tastebuds. A cool feeling that settled in you, as Ellie pulled into a grassy park parking lot.

Willow trees lined up along the curb, their weeping pose provided shade to several lots, including the one above you.

Ellie killed off the engine. She tipped her head against the headrest in relief. She flexed her fingers, stretching out the kinks, feeling the breeze run past.

Her head lolled limply to face you. “Do I really look that good in brown eyeliner?”

“Yes you really do.”

Ellie’s cheek dimpled.

“I love when you tell me stuff like that.”

“Like what? That you look pretty?”

You murmured into her shoulder, looking up at her.

“Yeah, makes me feel…dunno, not like a greasy loser.”

“Please, as if I would ever let a greasy loser bag me.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Jesus, kill yourself.”

She maintained eye contact with you, green eyes jumping between your own. Reflecting the amber beauty of the sun in its sparkle. She gave you a soft smile, you gave Ellie one back. A truce to the constant teasing. And Ellie took it as an invitation to dip her head down, and pull your lips into a kiss. One she’d been yearning to do since she’d first reversed both of you out of your driveway.

Ellie chased the kiss into the back seat. She gripped the fat of your hips to inch you slowly off of the center console and towards the back. She followed, kicking her loose driver’s seat forward with the sole of her sneakers. The slide adjusting rail had seen better days, and had been owned by better people than the currently horny, blunt, ungraceful young lesbian who had an avid penchant for violence, that owned it that day.

Ellie teased her hand up from your hips to the base of your neck, to grab the back of your head as she worked her puffy lips against yours. She was hungry for your little mouth, and it was seen in the way her jaw flexed.

Ellie kissed you with a remarkably intense eroticism.

Her hands ran down over the fabric of your milkmaid top before ripping the holes away from the buttons to let your tits spill out right into her hands. Each nipple immediately kissed the waiting pads of her thumbs, as they moved to greedily massage the sensitive head. Grazing each of your puffy tender domes over and over. “Fuck, need to suck these heavy tits baby.”

Ellie’s lips made their way down your chest. She suckled some swollen red marks into the skin, before making her way lower. Coming eye to eye with your nipples.

“Can you please squeeze your boobies together?”

You took your palms and pushed them together. Ellie's whiny sigh sent heat pooling in your tummy. She leaned in, licking a greedy stripe across both nipples, tickling their head with the tip of her tongue, tonguing the flesh around both areolas. And suckling your nipples intermittently then popping off them. Leaving both of them so puffed out.

Your squeaks filled the expanse of her small car, and her aroused groans joined to match.

She shoved her fingers in the waistband of your tiny denim shorts and tugged at them. They budged, but barely, so you helped your girlfriend. You lifted your ass off the seat and slid your shorts and thong down your thighs, before Ellie slid them the rest of the way off your ankles and threw them in the front seat.

The soft breeze blew past your cunt. Exposing the warm skin to a cooler environment.

“S-should we be doing this in a park?” you squeeked.

Ellie kissed her answer on your lips “there’s” *smooch* “no one” *smooch* “here.” As she shoved her hand down to palm the fat of your vagina. Feeling your pussy fill up her fingers. Ellie curled a middle finger into your tight hole, it barely wanted to split apart to accommodate her finger. But she marveled at how hungrily it sucked her in. She pumped shallowly before adding in her ring finger.

Her chrome ring grazed the swelling mound inside your hole; your g-spot. And it pulled a pathetic mewl out of you. She curled her wrist up, ligament appearing. And pumped harder. Enjoying your shaking thighs in the air.

Your brain was melting into mush. And all you managed were barely coherent babbles.

“…feels ss-s'good” your eyes were rolled backwards.

“God bunny…” Ellie marveled, “your pretty pussy’s so greedy.”

Ellie’s teeth dug into her lip “How did I bag you?”

All you could muster were delirious squeak noises in response as you tugged on the base of her ponytail.

“Look-look down” Ellie’s fingers grasped your chin, pulling your eyes away from her flushed aroused face and towards your own shiny pussy. “L-look at how you’re swallowing my fingers.”

Ellie’s forehead knocked against yours.

“Hey…c-can you squeeze for me?”

You never disobeyed her instructions, not when you both were like this. Nodding limply, you clamped around Ellie’s fingers, a choked moan escaped you. And a deep, throaty groan escaped her. Feeling how tightly you suckled in her fingers, how badly you wanted her there, made a warm heat throb between Ellie’s legs and left her boxers sticking to her sloppy cunt. Ellie could almost cry that she couldn’t bully a cock inside you, just to feel that desperate clamp around her cock.

Her ring pushed into your plump inner walls over and over, and dragged a new delicious zing of pleasure through the ribbed inner walls. Puffy, swollen, and sloppy with slick.

Ellie had a newfound resistance in her thrusting, the clamping, warm grip of your puffed out walls were holding her fingers still. But she kept pumping, like a suction cup being stuck on and popped off.

You were assaulted with thrilling pleasure from your walls clamping, chasing the press of her jewelry. And from your girlfriends frenzied, desperate thrusting. Ellie was just as hazy brained as you.

It was a costly mistake. All of the fluttering was stimulating your pelvic muscles. Which stimulated the other tiny hole snuggled in your pussy. The familiar pressure of a full bladder pressed behind the teeny hole of your urethra. Your squeaks came out strained. You scooted into different positions on the seat, trying to ebb away the pressure.

The shifting positions only made it worse as your tummy squished from movement, and as Ellie pumped upwards.

She jack hammered her fingertips against the puffy roof of your warm cunt. Her feverish ministrations put so much pressure on your bladder. You choked out a breathy plea.

Your hands skated up your girlfriend's torso, past her exposed waist and pebbled nipples that strained against her t-shirt, and finally towards her square shoulders in an attempt to push her back.

She needed off.

“I gotta…uhn… I gotta.” you whimpered.

“What was that?” Ellie sighed.

“I-ah!” The thrust felt so good.

You were whiny “th-think I needa pee.”

“I’m fucking you so good it’s got you confusing cumming for peeing? Y’so adorable it’s insane.” Ellie kissed your lips, picking up her pace.

She took the hand she’d used to squeeze and pinch your tits and brought it down to press on your lower tummy, as she thrust up.

Oh.

“Nnnnhnhn no! ph-please ewwie.. can’t—hold it.” You babbled the same desperate plea incoherently, but with a mouth nearly paralyzed from the incessant abuse of your hole Ellie was doing, you were left whiny and gulping, babbling tiny sentences at a time.

Sweat pricked at your skin, an orgasm was fucked into your vagina, and a full bladder pressed at your urethra. You didn’t know what to do as the mounting climax forced against your urethra left you with a desperate need for release, in the car.

Ellie’s lips kissed your jaw, snuggling against your head.

“You wanna let it out, big girl? Make a big mess f’me. We can clean it all up later, I promise.”

“nuh—ah Ellie no no…aghh! ”

Your urethra let out a thin light spurtle. Settling into the space between you two as more slick gushed out of your hole. You sobbed through your orgasm, from the joint pleasure of climax combined with relief from pressure pressing against your urethra. Ellie kept fingering you through each tiny pump of liquid that squirted from your urethra and through each contraction of its sloppy wet vagina, as slick spilled out of you and ran past your bare ass, onto her leather seats. With each aggressive thrust of Ellie’s fingers—fuck in—pull out—came out spurt after spurt, from each hole. She slowed down once you fell back into the seat softly; boneless and glass-eyed. Like an abused rag doll.

You both caught your breaths, Ellie from the aggressive thump and heat in her pussy. And you from your ‘accident’.

Ellie watched as the looming embarrassment creeped every so slowly onto your face, as the orgasm slowly ebbed away. She placed shaky kisses on top of your head. Cupping the back of it in support.

Sure, maybe her car wasn’t the best time to explore that kink. Seeing as the bottom half of her shirt and her belt was wet.

But she wasn’t going to let her girlfriend curl in on herself in shame, just because of her body’s natural reaction. Especially one that Ellie practically fucked out of you.

If not for the small space of the car she might’ve pulled you into her lap, to kiss away the upset creases between your brows. But she could do nothing more than hover above your trembling body, and caress your squished tummy with her free hand, until the shaking eased.

She was breathless. “You did so good, baby.”

You shoved your face into the crook of Ellie’s neck. The sweet cologne on the collar of her shirt calmed you down, with its medley of gourmands, lavender and florals.

Your girlfriend had a way of grounding you. Everything about Ellie had the ability to. From her cold, icy fingers, to her soft, pine scented hair. To her woodsy cologne, always left on the collar of her shirts, ready to tranquilize your unrest.

“nuh-uh I—.”

“—So good. My good girl, doing exactly what I tell you too, c’mere.”

Ellie unplugged her fingers out from your hole and suckled the last bit of slick cream off, then swiped it on her shirt. She licked her lips. Using her now clean hand to cup the side of your jaw and draw you into a heated kiss that left both of you trembling.

You shifted positions in the seat from discomfort.

“You still need to pee s’more?”

“No.”

“Babe…”

“Maybe.”

Ellie reached over and opened your door, then hopped out from her side. Jogging over to shield your body.

You crouched in behind her, her and the car towered over you from both sides.

You pouted up at her, and she glowered down at you. Her arms crossed firmly as she looked away briefly to scan around the area. Before parking her gaze back down at you as the remaining stream from your bladder emptied itself.

“No more vanilla bean milkshakes.” you winced at the feeling of the breeze tickling your swollen labia.

“Of course. Yeah, that was the real culprit. Not the mega-giant 1 liter water bottle.”

You frowned.

Ellie’s arms dropped from their cross, and her black fingernails pinched the fat of your cheek and pulled teasingly.

She reassured you.

“Yeah sure, we’ll blame it on the vanilla bean milkshake.”

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Small Cuts

Jason Todd x Reader

wc: 1.7 K summary: Red Hood saves you from the chaos, being scared shitless warnings: standard Gotham violence, description of minor injuries, (panic attack), slight angst/comfort, established relationship a/n: for my loyal Red Hood fans (you know who you are), here's a special drabble I came up with while looking through my notes. have fun (divider)

Jason quickly dodges another punch, putting a bullet between the muggers eyes. Yes, Bruce said no guns and killing, but he isn‘t Bruce. He doesn‘t care, these shits need to go down, they did that themselves by doing wrongs. It seems that Dick managed to escort as many civilians as possible from the mall, getting back to his brother to fight by his side. He knows Bane is a powerful guy, but his small army seems to be quite strong too. It‘s annoying him, he probably has a broken rib by now, and the cuts along his body sting, it getting more difficult to fight against the remaining soldiers.

A scarily familiar, shrill scream sounds amidst the chaos, his breath hitching under his mask. He really hopes it‘s not the person he thinks it is. With a quick punch to the other‘s head, he can search for who screamed, already cursing Dick for not clearing the floor properly. It seems like he is on autopilot, remembering you telling him about going on a quick shop to the mall, see if there is anything new. That same mall he is fighting criminals in right now.

He finally spots you, trapped between the wall and a huge shelf that crashed against it, you being in between it. There is just enough space for you to fit in, but not enough to crawl out of it on your own. Besides, you‘ve never looked so terrified before, not even able to breath properly in your panicked state.

Without sharing another glance, he runs up to you and pushes the shelf away from the wall, grunting at how heavy it is. Now that the huge weight is off, you intake a deep breath, close to hyperventilating again. You can‘t even register who is in front of you or that you are free again.

Jason really wants to just let the medics from outside take care of you, but he can‘t. He carefully scoops you up, holding your head close against him, as he hurries away from the fighting scene, patting your back softly with his other hand. Meanwhile, you can barely register that you aren‘t crushed between the wall anymore, but in someone‘s arms, taking you away.

»S- Lady, you‘re alright! I‘m bringing you to safety, you‘re gonna be okay.«

The slightly distorted voice attempts to calm you down, doing little to actually make you stop from panicking. Jason cursed himself inwardly as he almost slipped, having to keep his secret identity from you while still outside, being close to giving up and patching you up right here; call you his favourite nicknames and petnames. It‘s not like he doesn‘t trust you, no, he would do anything for you because you‘d do anything for him. He still sometimes cries himself to sleep, thinking he doesn‘t deserve you. Now, he is close to crying again, but not because of that. His world is injured, because he wasn‘t careful enough. He should‘ve been the one escorting civilians, maybe he would have spotted you sooner.

With quick strides, Jason finally sets you down onto his couch. These are the rare moments he is glad he lives close to the mall, being still dead-concerned about you.

Your knee is badly scraped, a couple of dark bruises littering on your exposed skin, small cuts across your face.Oh, your pretty face. It‘s all his fault.

As if on instinct, he gets his med kit and kneels down in front of the couch, craddling your face in his hands. Now safe in his apartment, he doesn‘t care about his secret identity being revealed to you, he just wants to make this better.

»Darling, I‘m here, don‘t you worry, okay? It‘s me, Jason. Jay-jay.«

Before you can respond, he takes off his helmet and discards it to the floor, cleaning your small scrapes around his face carefully. His fingers barely touch your skin, the wet rug gently cleaning the little blood off of your forehead and cheeks, his own face looking way worse than yours.

Gasping, you finally take in his face and feel a rush of worry again. Leaning up, you cup his cheek, seeing his black eye and cut across his chin. He looks absolutely done, yet he is still on his knees, cleaning at your own wounds.

He is immediately alerted, searching your face for any sign of pain or discomfort. He doesn‘t seem to realise he is injured as well.

»W-what is it? Did I hurt you?« What is that question? Of course he hurt you, he should‘ve been there way sooner.

Taking a deep breath, you try to use your voice; being still shaken up and weak.

»Your fucking eye...« Jason frowns even more at your weak voice, huffing out and leaning you back down on your back. He bites down on his inner cheek harshly, trying to focus and work on your injuries as best as possible. Your eyes stay on his face, silently observing him as you finally start to breath more normally.

Your light scrapes sting as he cleans them up, putting small bandages over them.

»Don‘t they need you?« You croak out quietly again, whincing lightly as he cleans your scraped knee, the wet cloth becoming bloody.

»They can handle it. I need you to be safe first.« Jason mutters back, feeling guilty and bad for causing you more pain while patching you up. It hurts more but you bear through, leaning up on your elbows to see how bad your knee is. You grimace lightly, hissing at the familiar sting while he cleans your wound.

Jason doesn‘t glance to your face anymore, completely focussed on taking care of you. He carefully wraps a bandage around your knee, lifting it up a little on the couch. His fingertips barely graze your skin, his touch even more gentle than usual. Your body is still trembling from the adrenaline, slumping back on the couch with a heavy sigh. It all comes to your senses.

Jason is Red Hood. He just saved you from that terror attack in the mall. Seems to be in a worse shape than you and still patches you up as gentle as possible. He left his team behind just to take you to safety.

»Take off your shirt, need to see the bruises.«

His voice snaps you out of your slow procession of events, humming lightly in thought before carefully pulling off your shirt. It hurts to move your arms up, feeling a painful stretch around your right side. He helps you take it off, eyes quickly scanning over your big bruise around your ribs. It looks even worse now, a darker bruise evident against your right side. He wants to punch himself, he never meant to hurt you.

It‘s not even his fault. He was just fighting, not having been in charge for escorting civilians. Maybe he shouldn‘t feel guilty, he knows better than blaming himself for something that he didn‘t do. But it‘s just unfair, he could‘ve made it less worse if he only put an eye out and saw you and—

»Jason! Your nose is bleeding.«

You finally managed to pull him out of his thoughts, not knowing what to do. Jason quickly stands up again and gets the bathroom, leaning over the sink to get his nose clean and make it stop bleeding. Rushing over, you limp the way to Jason and get to his side, trying to see in what shape he is right now.

»I‘m fine, why are you standing? Get down- sit down, darling, you don‘t need to do anything.«

»I am not sitting down, you need to sit down, you‘re literally bleeding.« You argue back, trying to lead him to the bedroom.

»I‘m not sitting down, I need to get you safe— «

»I am safe.« You reassure him, seeing his hands tremble, eyes seem unfocused. Nothing really seems to help him calm down, grabbing his shoulders and forcing eye-contact.

After some more attempts of coaxing him into the bedroom, you can finally take care of him. He stands in front of the bed as you sit in front of him, patching up the few gashes along his torso.

Jason watches you the whole time, running his hand through some strands of hair occasionally. Yes, it does hurt as you bandage him up, but all he can focus on is you at the moment. Whole and safe, taking care of him finally.

He doesn‘t deserve you.

But he won‘t ever trade you for anyone else.

You don‘t need to talk once you get him all patched up and clean, both of you acting automatically once everything falls back to normal.

Jason crawls back in bed with you like this morning, carefully wrapping his arms around you, no matter how much it hurts his own body. Both tangled up in each other, comforting the other with sweet and grounding words. You are both safe now.

The small conversation paused, letting a comfortable silence fall over the room. After a few moments you speak up again, atmosphere getting lighter.

»I was dating the Red Hood all the time? For two years?«

He groans lightly, looking down at you in his arms.

»I‘m sorry, I… couldn‘t really tell you. But I wanted to, I really did.«

Jason apologises, his guilty expression pulling at your heart again.

»Wait, no, I‘m not mad. It‘s just… a nice surprise? I don‘t know, but I will buy endless Red Hood merch from now on. If you like it or not.«

You tell him with a small smile, making him pause before rolling his eyes. Of course. There‘s no way you would react badly. Especially after saving you.

a/n: WOW! really hoped you enjoyed it, i'm excited to hear your thoughts about it!!

← MASTERLIST

[cregansdingdong]

ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ᴍᴇ.

something tiny and Jace-y<3

NSFW stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Bodies covered in a sheen layer of sweat, pillows thrown across his chambers landing Gods know where. Other than the quiet slaps of skin against skin—hurried and slicked with the release they’d reached twice now—there were only their pants and murmurs echoing in the spacious room. No amount of time was ever going to be enough with her. Jace had his arms around her, rocking his pretty girl up and down on his sensitive cock—all of him was sensitive, really. His skin tingled under her gentle touch, chest flushed red with kisses and teeth marks littering across his shoulders. Her nails dug small, crescent-like shapes into his back in the meantime, face hidden in his neck.

“I’m gonna come again..” She whispers, voice stricken with want. That only urged him to hold tighter, keeping the steady pace as she took him to the hilt and back again, over and over like waves lapping at the shore.

“Give me all you can.” He hums, brows furrowed in concentration as he nudges his nose into her hair, taking a deep inhale of her scent. Floral and yet something spicy. It was addicting—he could have his face there all day if she let him. She grips him harder, shuddering at the fanning of his breath by her ear. Her stomach was tense, clenching, as the dam was about to break for the third time. They’d been at it most of the morning, too lost in their desire to sit through breakfast. Their presence had probably been missed at the table, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything else than the feeling of her hot, velvety walls squeezing around his cock.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[iheartmapi]

Norwegian Holiday

Ingrid Engen x Reader

Summary: For the first time, you and your girlfriend go on holiday to her country.

Fluff.

TW: none expect probably kinda shitty depiction of Norwegian culture (I’ve never been there don’t @ me)

Word count: 968

“The charm’s hidden in the small towns, kjæreste”

The brunette beside you remarked as your train slowly approached it’s destination.

“Well, I’m gonna have to trust you on this one, Ing…”

As the vehicle came to a stop the two of you raised from your seats and gathered your bags, there wasn’t a lot of commotion, after all why should there be when you picked out a tiny town to visit…but well you were enthusiastic about this holiday anyways. Ingrid lead you, though she haven’t been here before she could actually read the signs you passed by.

You fished out your phone from your bag, “Uh babe we rented the hotel on your phone right?” She turned to look at you, as the two of you managed to navigate into one of the towns streets, “I think so, let me check, can you get my phone for me?” You listened and then started the tumultuous act of searching for Ingrid’s phone in your guy’s travel bag, finally you handed the mobile to her.

As Ingrid searched for the reservation, or rather the hotels name so that google maps could help you out, you stood by her, observing the buildings that littered the street, and the might mountains that surrounded the town…this place was almost like a very cozy fairytale “Aha!” Ingrid beamed, were supposed to gooooo…” she turned and turned before pointing in the correct way “We’re supposed to go there” the brunette took hold of your arm and lead the way “So hasty..” you chuckled, “We’ve got no time to lose!” Ingrid beamed.

Thankfully, you didn’t get lost and got to register at the hotel, your rooms were nice, the mattress was the perfect balance between hard and soft, and the decor? Well there wasn’t really much to say about it, it was regular, kind of genderless and beige really.

Of course the moment everything was checked off the two of you got dressed and left the hotel to go exploring, this time leaving google maps behind to just see the town for yourself.

The first thing you and Ingrid thought was necessary to see, was the town’s square.

From the very middle; there was a nicely carved stone fountain, really just plain space, some benches and then the building that surrounded it…shops, cafes, restaurants the likes. “Stand there, I wanna take your picture, pretty girl” Ingrid smiled, you cheerfully pranced around to pose in front of the fountain for Ingrid’s phone’s lenses, after a couple clicks the two of you continued on strolling around.

“Feeling the Norwegian spirit already?” Ing playfully nudged you, you smirked “Definetily, oh I need to get me some kitschy Viking souvenir!” At that comment she scoffed “So stereotypical of you” you just winked at your girlfriend and said “Whatever you say, Viking lady” to which she just nudged you again and you laughed.

Trying Norwegian food was a must have on your list, so not too soon after you made your way to a restaurant, your eyes skimmed across the menu, trying to pronounce the foreign to you words as Ingrid had a laughing fit at your butchered words.

Then with some help from Ingrid you chose a dish called “Kjøttkaker med brunsaus”, a seemingly simple recipe. The waiter soon brought your orders to the table and left you to live this delicious moment.

You stick your fork into the meat on the plate and took a dramatic breath “Here goes nothing…” you munched on the meat cakes, wanting to savour the taste..after a moment of thoughtfulness you decided on “This is quite good actually”

Ingrid’s mouth curved upwards “I’m happy you like it” before continuing on eating her own meal, “You’ll have to make this for me when we get back home, Ingy!” You remarked joyfully, “Alright alright” she laughed at your liveliness “Calm your horses and finish eating first”

Towns square, restaurant and now a souvenir shop because you begged Ingrid to see it when you spotted it…you scanned the Viking-y souvenirs, from hats to cups, there were many things to choose from…Ingrid herself paced around the building, observing the assortment of the shop before returning to you, “So?” She asked “You getting anything?” You turned to Ingrid with a comical seriousness “I’m torn between the Viking hat and the Viking cup” Ingrid raised an eyebrow “I’m assuming you’re expectantly waiting for me to say you can get both?” You nodded “There’s no limit for what you want babe, if you want it buy it” you reached for the “viking” hat and put it on your head “I was afraid the amount of kitsch I wanted would annoy you” Ingrid just rolled her eyes and patted your now covered head “It’s you, I couldn’t get mad even if I wanted to.”

So you bought the things you wanted, put them in your bag for walking around and went on with your exploration of the small town. The rest was really just you two appreciating the views and architecture, or entering places you thought looked interesting..

The day flowed smoothly and soon you found yourself sitting on a bench with a view of the lake by the town, waffles in your and Ingrid’s hands.

“This is like…so pretty it’s crazy” you said as you munched on your waffle

“Chew before you speak babe…” Ingrid sighed at your childishness (but with a smile on her face)

“fine fine!” You finished the piece and swallowed “Now as I said, the views are crazy here”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying Norway” your girlfriend smiled even wider, her eyes crinkling “You know I care about your happiness the most”

“Oh don’t you make me blush…” you added “You’re already outshining this landscape” you winked before getting back to devouring your waffle

“You’re such a dummy…”

[satorisoup]

ᰔ GLITTER GLUE ft. hajime iwaizumi

ʚ CW : “one sided” crush. confessions. cursing.

ʚ hq valentine’s series mlist ಇ

it’s valentine’s day, or rather, the most dreadful day of existence, if you were to say so yourself.

walking through the halls of school on a normal day was one thing, but now it seems that every corner you turn, you’re rather rudely reminded of your state of loneliness on the soul national holiday of relationships. bouquets of reds and whites, floral smells corroding your nostrils with every inhale, cute plushies holding little hearts, pretty cards with love written in sparkly pink gel pen. all gestures of admiration that are so sweet to any other person, but quite frankly, it’s just making you feel stupid for coming to school today.

you feel even stupider when you’re walking into class, eyes avoiding the gross kissing couples as you make your way to sit down, and you’re faced with exactly why you mourn valentines day so much.

hajime iwaizumi, the third year who sits one desk aside to you in class 5, who just so happens to be the person your heart decided to fall head over heels for. it was an unmistakable crush with the way your cheeks felt hot when he’d stretch in his seat, or the way your heart fluttered when he would make small talk when there was a particularly boring lesson. he’d even occasionally walk with you during lunch period in the midst of conversation or sharing a snack, before his friends would come and steal him away. he was sweet aside from looking intimidating, and it all the more so made you infatuated with him.

you watch him grumble outside of the doorway at one of his friends, a roll of his eyes before he’s striding into the classroom to take his proclaimed seat. you feel disappointed in yourself that you still haven’t been able to work up the courage to ask him out, too much of a coward to ever admit your interest in him. you take a quick glance at his hands, and what you see makes your heart drop even lower.

you catch a short glimpse of a pretty red valentine in his left hand before he’s quickly moving to neatly stuff it into the inner pocket of his jacket.

it looks like someone had beaten you to the chase, and it was only the first class of the day.

throughout the entire period, you notice the off behavior of your classmate as he sits in his seat. iwaizumi seems nervous almost, his leg softly bouncing up and down, and you also take into account that he hasn’t said a single word to you, or even looked at you this entire time. that usually would seem more normal on a regular class day, but today it was a free period, much to everyone’s liking. after dismissal, iwaizumi wasted no time to get up and out of the classroom before you could even ask him if he was alright.

classes today seemed to go by as if minutes were hours, and students had gotten even more enthusiastic as time went by as they all exchanged their thoughtful valentines to their partners. you think you’ve heard enough random “i love you’s” to last you 3 lifetimes in a singular day, but what you were seriously dreading was lunchtime. where everyone would walk around hand in hand through the courtyard, gifts, cards, flowers, big huge teddy bears to little tiny ones, kissing that should probably be saved for behind closed doors, and especially confessions. not wanting to be surrounded by the exact thing you were missing out on, you opted to stay inside for lunch.

the empty classroom you sit in is completely silent, the only sounds you hear coming from outside through the windows, voices of distant squeals and happy laughter. you sigh at your own demise when you decide to finally get up and wander around the halls. paper heart chains and pretty streamers litter the lockers and walls, and even some of your teachers had little decorations as their own way of getting into the spirit. it really was unfortunate that you weren’t able to celebrate today with who you wanted to so badly, as your fate lies in your own thoughts because you were too chicken to ever say it. and now, your crush was starting to act weird, which meant he had probably already accepted a confession, or maybe even confessed himself, to a person he was interested in. you wanted to be angry, you really did, but it wasn’t your place to be mad at him. he wasn’t ever yours to begin with.

as you stroll along and unwontedly admire the atmosphere around you, you hear the uncomfortable squeak of shoes against the wooden flooring, alerting you that you weren’t alone. when you look up from your feet to meet the eyes of the person who had interrupted your thoughts, you can physically feel your stomach sink to your feet.

iwaizumi stands at the end of the hallway, his hands behind his back with that same expression he had during class, even if it was barely noticeable. he looks at you before he straightens up.

“hey.” is all he mutters.

…

“hi.”

he takes a few steps forward to meet you where you had halted before and begins to speak.

“i was looking for you.” he voices.

“oh.. well you found me.”

you aren’t helping much with his attempt to cure the awkwardness around you two, but even so, he continues to talk nonetheless.

“why weren’t you outside for lunch?” he asks you.

“eh, didn’t wanna be around all that lovey dovey stuff. but, um.. why were you looking for me?”

you feel nervous when iwaizumi is silent, his hands now coming out from where they risided, holding that same red valentine from this morning.

“because i wanted to give you this.” he replies.

you notice the tinge of pink on his usual hardened face, looking down to where he held out the card to you.

you carefully grasp the messily accessorized card, studying it as you feel your heartbeat pick up to a faster pace. the red, heart shaped card stock proposed a simple question of ‘be my valentine?’

and as cheesy as it was, your lips pull into a wide grin when you look back at him, his hands tucked into his pockets while he waited for your answer.

“is this a confession, or am i reading the glitter glue wrong?”

“shut up, it was oikawa who dumped all of that shimmer shit on it…” he rumbles, recalling the short memory of his best friend tossing glitter onto his card while scolding him, “iwa, you seriously lack so much pizazz. girls love sparkles and glitter!”

you laugh at the thought of his friend taunting him over his card, and then you’re suddenly blushing at the concept of how iwaizumi had taken his time to make a special valentine, just for you.

“well, i accept your confession, iwa…”, “even if it’s twinkling in ‘shimmer shit’.”

it was iwaizumi’s turn to chuckle when he laces his arm around your shoulders, and he smiles as he walks with you.

“idiot.”

yes, valentines day was usually a dreadful day. but the surprises it holds? those aren’t dreadful at all.

[beomboomboom]

Drunk with love

genre: fluff, established relationship

pairing: Seungcheol x reader

summary: Seungcheol has experienced your drunk self more than once before. He's seen everything. He's seen you dramatically confess your love to him years ago, he's seen you yell love song lyrics for him at the top of your lungs. But this was the first time you forgot that you and Seungcheol were dating altogether.

warnings: alcohol/drinking, a little bit of swearing (like very little)

note: based on the results of this poll. I hope you enjoy the fic <33

"Cheolliee~ can you pick me up?"

Seungcheol lets out a sigh at the sound of your tipsy voice. He knew it was a bad idea to let you go out drinking with your friends.

Not that your friends were bad influences or anything, but when you got drunk, you got drunk.

Meaning, you couldn't even walk three steps without either throwing up or passing out.

"Okay baby, I'm going to come get you. Just wait outside the bar okay?"

"Okiee~ the world is spinningg...," he hears your intoxicated voice say. Taking that as a sign, he grabs a few plastic bags and stuffs them in his pocket on the way out of the house, already preparing for what he knows is to come.

As Seungcheol gets into his car and sets off towards the direction of the bar where you're at, he hears your drunk self let out a whine, "Where aree you Cheolliee, I need to tell you somethingg."

Phone still pressed against his ear, Seungcheol lets out a little laugh, amused at the way you're acting.

Deciding to humor your drunk self, he replies softly, "hmm, okay. How about you tell me when I come get you, does that sound alright?"

He can already picture what you're looking like at this point. Your cheeks are probably littered in a pink hue, evidence of your drinking activities, your hair a pretty mess, and your lips in a pout. You're also probably going cling onto Seungcheol the moment he finally arrives to pick you up.

Seungcheol smiles softly at the thought.

Even though dealing with your drunk self is a pain in the ass, he still loves it nonetheless. The way you show your unfiltered love to him is something that always makes him laugh and his heart swoon.

"but cheol...what I'm going to tell you...I might regret..."

Seungcheol's heart stops at your words.

No longer humoring your intoxicated words, Seungcheol worriedly ponders what in the world you could possibly mean. Seungcheol knows that when you're drunk, your filter completely disappears, which makes him worried. What kind of secret were you keeping from him that would make you say "I might regret this"?

"What do you mean by that baby?"

"well....I'll tell you in person. It's better that way. OH! I see your car, I'm coming in."

Seungcheol watches your figure, holding your phone to your ear, as you shakily stand from the bench outside the bar and stumble closer and closer to his car.

Before crumpling to the ground unexpectedly.

"Oh shoot," Seungcheol mutters under his breath as he quickly jumps out of the car and helps you stand up.

"You okay baby? Let's get in the car hm?"

But rather than replying and letting Seungcheol lead you into the car, you simply lean against Seungcheol and begin to cry. Eyes widening, Seungcheol quickly takes your face in his hands and wipes your tears away with the pads of his fingers.

"Awww baby, do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

"I-I-I" you start to say, and let out a small hiccup before shouting," I LOVE YOU!"

"Well, I lov-" Seungcheol starts to reply, but is quickly interrupted by your drunken rambling.

"I know this might ruin our friendship or whatever, but I can't stop my feelings for you. I just love you too much. I love you so much that i'll break the promise we made in second grade to never have a crush on one another. I love you so much that i'll risk our friendship to tell you that I love you. And I love you so much that if you don't love me back, I'll accept it."

With each word being let out of your mouth Seungcheol can feel his endearing smile grow by the second.

"Baby, I think you don't understand. We're dating right now. We were best friends before, but then you confessed to me just like how you're doing now. "

"What no way. You're lying to me. Stop joking around with me Cheollie," you say, a furrow in your brow as you try to decipher the new information.

"I'm not," Seungcheol replies, with a little laugh under his breath at the situation. The way you can't believe you're dating him makes him want to giggle and kiss you senseless at the same time.

"Then show me," you challenge, deadly serious.

Wasting no time, Seungcheol gently grabs your face with his hands and places a chaste peck on your lips. "Let's go home now hm?"

Smiling contently, you let Seungcheol take hold of your hand, and lead you towards the car.

It's after you and Seungcheol take around three steps when your eyes widen and you mutter a quiet "uh oh" and shake Seungcheol's shoulder vigorously.

Already knowing what's about to happen, Seungcheol swiftly takes out a plastic bag from his pocket and hands it to you. As you get all of the alcohol out of your system and into the plastic bag, Seungcheol holds your hair away from your face and rubs comforting circles on your back. "How about we go home and get cleaned up. Does that sound okay with you?

You manage a small nod in response and lean on Seungcheol as he helps you get into the car and buckle your seatbelt. In only a few seconds Seungcheol buckles his own seatbelt too and you and Seungcheol make the short journey home.

As Seungcheol is driving home, he gazes at your passed out figure in the passenger seat. Shaking his head, he simply smilies and lets out an endearing laugh,"you better repay me with lots of kisses and cuddles tomorrow."

[xzerosparrowx]

For the June @steddiemicrofic

Prompt: Stuff | wc: 483 | Rating: M | cw: mild language | tags: attempted car theft, Eddie steals cars, mention of Al Munson, meet cute, Steve has a messy car.

an attempt to steal a car

✨️🚘✨️🚗✨️

Allen Munson was right, this is a fancy car. A beautiful burgundy BMW that gleams under the fluorescent lights of the city and cream leather seats that look like they would feel buttery soft. Eddie almost regrets breaking into it as he shoves the slightly bent Slim Jim into the door and unlocks it in one smooth motion. This is a Robin Hood kind of deal. Steal from the rich to give to the poor.

The poor being Eddie and Al Munson.

He quickly gets into the car and is immediately accosted with the sight of random shit strewn across this luxury German vehicle. It's all just… stuff. Cassettes ranging from ABBA, to David Bowie and fucking Tears for Fears are piled in the glove box. Sweaters, shirts and even a bra have been haphazardly thrown to the back seat. Candy wrappers and bottles of soda litter the floor and dashboard. There's even a few dice that Eddie recognises from playing DnD that have been stashed in the little corners of the car.

Too fascinated by the sheer amount of stuff, Eddie doesn't register someone walking to the car until the passenger door is already open and a guy around his age is getting in, shutting the door behind them.

Eddie is a little stupid when it comes to pretty people, probably getting it from Al, along with his prodigious ability to jack cars. So he doesn't make an attempt to escape, just sits there kind of dumb staring at the very pretty guy in front of him.

“Are you trying to steal my car?” the guy asks, his large brown eyes narrowed at Eddie, the spiced scent of expensive cologne surrounding him. It takes Eddie a moment to comprehend that the guy asked him a question.

“Yeah,” Eddie admits like a total idiot, “but then I got a little sidetracked by all the stuff in your car.”

The man laughs, bright and a little embarrassed. “Yeah sorry,” he apologizes, scratching the back of his neck, highlighting the toned muscle of his bicep, “I've been meaning to clean it for ages.”

“Fuck, you don't need to apologize to me, I'm the one who broke into your car!” Eddie exclaims, he feels a little hysterical with this guy next to him apologizing for the mess, knowing that Eddie was trying to steal his BMW.

“Yeah but it's a little embarrassing, right? For a thief to not be stealing your shit because they're judging how you live.” The guy flushes pink as his eyes roam the contents of his car before settling back on Eddie.

Fuck, Eddie feels like a huge dickbag.

“Nah, no judgment from me man,” Eddie shakes his head reassuringly, pulling out the David Bowie tape, “you got some good music here,” and grins at the small smile on the man's face.

“Thanks,” the man chuckles, “I'm Steve, by the way.”

“Eddie.”

[redrose10]

Yoongi and the prompt id no 45 "how much of that did you hear". Thank you so much and i really like the way you write

Here you go, I hope you like it!

Warnings: A few swear words, alcohol consumption

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Your apartment smelled like a brewery and looked like a frat house. Broken glass bottles and plastic cups littered everywhere. Someone’s very expensive bra hung from the ceiling fan. This was not exactly what you wanted to come home to after a long day of work.

You know you agreed to let your roommate/best friend Yoongi throw a party, but when you thought of a Yoongi party you imagined some wine and appetizers and a few people sitting around talking about music or something. Once you spotted Jimin in the hallway you knew he was the culprit for the party getting out of hand thanks to his social butterfly status.

You searched through apartment trying to find your roommate wanting to make sure he was okay, but also making sure he knew it was 100% his responsibility to clean up this mess.

Hearing a loud bang followed by some cheers coming from the kitchen you figured that’s where the party must’ve moved to and you were correct.

The small kitchen was packed full of people to the point you couldn’t even squeeze through so you resigned to standing on your tiptoes to look through the sea of people for Yoongi.

Thankfully it wasn’t too hard to spot him. He was in the corner swaying back and forth with a desperate looking Namjoon trying to talk him out of something. Yoongi pushed him aside and jumped up on the kitchen table stumbling a little. Namjoon quickly grabbed onto his legs to try and steady him while you felt an immediate sense of panic wanting to get to him.

“Hello, Hello…is this thing on?”, he asked tapping into the beer bottle at if it was a microphone.

“Listen everyone I have something I need to get off my chest and I might be just a tiny little bit drunk so now is the perfect time.”

You giggled at his confession. Yoongi was pretty good at monitoring his alcohol intake so you were a little surprised that he let it get this far though.

“Escuse me.”, he slurred and the crowd got quiet again.

“Some of you probably already know this, but I just can’t hold it in any more. I’m in love.”

You felt your heart sink just a little. You’d been harboring the biggest secret crush on him for the last two years, but were way too afraid to say something in fear of ruining the friendship and it looks like you lost your chance anyways.

He continued, “I, Min Yoongi, love my best friend. That’s right. You heard it here first. I love Y/N.”

You gasped before you were able to make eye contact with Namjoon who seemed more than happy to see you there.

“Okay that is all. I just wanted to make it known that I love Y/N and she is mine.”, Yoongi said before lazily falling down onto the table.

The next morning you cleaned up around the apartment because you knew with the hangover he was going to have that Yoongi was going to be pretty much useless and you couldn’t stand sitting in the filth any longer. Close to noon he finally came stumbling into the living room rubbing his head and trying to shield his eyes from the light.

“Morning sunshine.”, you smiled handing him a cup of coffee you had ready.

“I feel like I got hit by a car.”, he groaned taking a seat.

“Yeah not surprised. You were pretty messed up.”

“Did anything embarrassing happen?”, he asked with a wince.

As if on queue his phone dinged.

You peaked over his shoulder to see the text message from Jungkook with a video attached.

Yoongi pressed play and the familiar sound of the beginning of his drunken rant started immediately.

Suddenly it all came back to him so he quickly shut off the video before it could go any further and slammed his phone down.

“Why’d you shut it off? It was a good speech.”, you pouted.

His face turned a bright shade of red as he looked over at you, “How much of that did you hear?”

You chuckled, “All of it. Every last word.”

He ran his hands over his face, “Fuck I’m so sorry Y/N. I understand if you want to move out. Or if you want me to move out. I can go stay at Namjoons until I find a place. This is why I don’t drink without you here.”

“Yoongi did you mean what you said? Even the part about me being yours?”

He looked at you with wide eyes, “Um yeah, yeah I did. But you don’t have to feel the same way. I’m an adult and can take rejection.”

He continued to babble on and on and seeing no end insight you did the only thing you could think of to shut him up by crashing your lips into his.

After you pulled away from the kiss he shyly smiled, “So I take it you like me too?”

“Yes, you idiot.”

You stood up and walked towards the door before motioning for him to follow, “Now come on. One of your friends threw up all over our rug so you’re buying a new one. And then you can take your girlfriend out to dinner as a thank you for cleaning up after everyone.”

He smiled while grabbing his keys in one hand and making sure to have a strong hold of your hand in the other.

[folkloresthings]

thinking about fernando & reader who also loves flowers. imagine him coming home from a triple header to the house looking vibrant & beautiful & it warms his heart that the house feels truly like a home ❤️ i could also see reader sending his favorite flowers to his hotel when he’s away too & writing him cute notes to go along with them

FULL BLOOM. ❨ fernando alonso x florist!reader ❩

"statistically, eighty-eight percent of men don't receive flowers until their funeral."

it was what you had said to fernando during your first date, as an explanation for the bouquet you had just handed him. he had brought you some roses, too, but they were nothing compared to the coordinated bundle you had brought. though stunned, a smile crept onto his lips.

you were a florist, he discovered, and owned a little shop just down the street from his favourite coffee shop -- where you had met just days before, bumping into each other accidentally and ending in exchanging phone numbers. it made sense, now. your perfume was slightly floral, and your whole demeanour seemed to fit your occupation. soft, pretty, elegant.

it took three months into the relationship for fernando to give up on bringing you flowers, his often falling short of the ones you created every day. you didn't mind -- you worked with the plants all day long; you had enough to last you a lifetime. other presents ensued: chocolates, jewellery, trinkets that reminded him of you. still, you kept bringing him bouquets. he loved the new decoration of his house, suddenly much brighter than it had ever been. little pieces of you at home with him.

"you may as well move in." fernando shrugged one day, glancing at your personal touches across the rooms. "you stay here when i'm at races, and i don't like it when you leave."

it was an easy decision in the end, and most of your belongings already lived in his house. once you had settled and the space became shared, what was once fernando's bachelor pad became a home. every other day, you arrived home from work with a new bunch of flowers. and every time, fernando would sit down and listen to you list off what each one meant.

"i thought it could use a little sprucing up," you told him when he came home to carefully chosen flowers littered from room to room. fernando only crossed the room to kiss you, squashing the roses in your hands between you both.

only when he went away for races without you did he realise just how much he appreciated your floral arrangements brightening up his days. at home, even when you weren't around, he could look to one of the vases and think of you. two days into his time in jeddah and he was almost sick with missing you. the time difference made it difficult to keep up with calls, one of you just waking as the other fell to sleep.

fernando was dragging his feet back from a terrible qualifying session, pushing past the team to get to his hotel room as quickly as he could. he didn't want to talk to the press, he didn't want to see the engineers, he didn't want to hang out with the other drivers. he just wanted you.

his tiredness almost had him miss the delivery sat on the table of his suite as he locked the door behind him. a stunning bouquet of flowers in the centre, basking the room in a new light. tucked inside was a small envelope and he recognised your handwriting straight away.

"edelweiss for courage. lavender to keep you calm. and tulips, for my love for you."

fernando felt himself relax, as if you had just wrapped your arms around him and held him close. he smiled to himself, grinning like an idiot all alone, and flipped the card in his hands.

"a little bit of home to keep close by."

a little bit of home, he thought, running his fingers over the delicate petals he knows you probably spent an hour arranging. a little bit of you with him, even while you were so far away.

[lavenderfilledcoffin]

sensual

adjective

relating to or involving gratification of the senses and physical, especially sexual, pleasure.

*♪¸¸.•*¨･:*ೄ·*♪¸¸.•*¨･:*

Sebastian felt so... nervous.

Sure, he's felt nervous around people he deemed attractive before.

But this was different.

You've taken many firsts from him.

Like his first kiss, his first relationship, and all that.

But his first time? His innocence?

He's been saving it for someone special. And here you were, that special someone.

It's no wonder he feels this way. Your nude body was perfection in itself. A gift from beyond the stars.

The scars that littered your neck from the night he got a little too rough with you, he wanted to open them again.

Your hand rested on his chest, your fingertips placed in a way where you could feel his heart beat uncontrollably.

His hair is disheveled and messier than usual, he looked feral, almost.

Such pretty noises that escaped his lips, they only turned you on further.

As you jerked your boyfriend's tentacle off, you stared into his eyes lovingly, analyzing every single change in his dazed expression.

Sebastian's hips bucked up into your hands, a whimper following as you moved your hand away from his tentacles.

"Please. I need—more. [Name], please!" His pleas were adorable, but you wanted this to last slightly longer.

Your thighs pressed together, a friction that made you shiver internally, right down to the very core.

His tail separated your legs as you sat. You leaned down to where his tentacle eagerly awaits.

Sebastian looked down at you, immediately regretting it as the erotic view made him shiver.

He bit his tongue, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't look away.

Your lips wrapped around the tip of the sensitive tentacle, earning yourself a small whine from your boyfriend.

Your eyes never left his, taking in the beautiful sight of your boyfriend coming undone.

A surge of confidence, or, eagerness fueled you, and you took his whole length down your throat. He couldn't help but throw his head back from the sudden pleasure, making soft mewling noises.

Sebastian's claws found their way into your hair, gripping it harshly.

He started face fucking you.

All that could be heard were soft gags from you, sloppy wet sounds, and his whimpering that made you grind your hips against his tail.

"C—Close, fuck..." He panted out, looking down again, releasing a hand from your head down to cup your cheek. Your heart fluttered from the contact.

His whines got progressively louder, his movements started to falter, and before he knew it, he had finished in your mouth.

The taste was salty and somewhat unpleasant, yet, you still happily swallowed it.

His erection didn't go down, the tentacle's tip wiggling in anticipation.

You caught your breath, leaning back up.

You wanted to only please him, but, he had other plans.

Sebastian lifted you up in an odd position. His third arm's hand under your right thigh, supporting you, while his the rest were roaming your body.

His left hand was pressed against your spine, the way your back arched looked so sweet, just for him.

He leaned down, capturing your left breast with his tongue. The sensitive bud being teased mercilessly.

The newfound stimulation made your body twitch, "Sebastian..." You whimpered his name pathetically, reaching your left hand up to run your fingers through his hair.

He released your breast with a pop, giving the neglected right one attention.

He shut his eyes, focusing on your cute whimpers, unrelenting in his suckles and small nibbles.

His right hand traveled down your body to your inner thigh, his clawed finger ghosting right over your heat.

He stopped his actions, his eyes opened halfway meeting yours.

"May I?" Sebastian's tone was gentle, even in the heat of the moment, he still wanted your consent.

"Yes—please, Seb." It was extremely sweet, you appreciated it.

His claws were quite big, as well as his genitalia. All of the experiments that he underwent probably caused it.

The tip of his claw drags along your slick cunt, your core heated up in anticipation.

Slowly, he dipped his finger into you. You didn't expect it to hurt, his finger pushing past your tight walls.

Quietly, you whined, placing your hands onto his shoulders so you could grip onto them for support.

Sebastian let you get adjusted before he slowly pumped his finger in and out of you.

His claws didn't hurt as much you thought they did, they were rather dull, and hitting a certain spot that made you whine excessively.

Your left hand moved from his shoulder to his neck, then to the back of his head, pulling him into a sweet, yet needy kiss.

Sebastian returned your kiss with equal passion, not failing to notice how your soft thighs pressed against the sides of his hand. He should ask you to wrap your thighs around his head, someday.

You groaned into his mouth as you felt a second finger enter you, easily from how soaked you are.

He pulled away from your lips, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he whispered sweet nothings.

He curled his fingers up, his claws hitting that sweet spot in a perfect angle.

Your back arched while your head fell back, leaving your body in perfect view for Sebastian.

A string of curses left your mouth, your walls clenching around his fingers. "Close—faster, please!"

Sebastian sped up his finger's movement speed, curling them upwards which heightened your arousal.

The once tight knot in your stomach was coming undone, every muscle in your body tensing up.

"S—eb!" You cry out, feeling your body twitch as you climax, your vision turning white.

He slowly pulled his fingers out of you, to which you whined. He grinned as he cleaned them off with his mouth. "Sweet."

He leaned back so that your body would be leaning against him, he moved his third hand up to your waist, rubbing small circles into it.

"Do you... really want to do this? With me?" Sebastian lowered his gaze, starting to get self conscious. Normally, he would be able to ignore it, but he couldn't help it this time.

"Yes, Sebastian." You reached your hand up to his cheek, "I do. Only with you."

Your sweet words made him smile eagerly.

"Please don't be so worried, we'll learn together, okay?" Sebastian was left speechless, he had somehow fallen deeper in love with you. Fuck, you were going to be the death of him.

You lifted your hips up, aligning the tip of his tentacle to your entrance. You slowly sink down onto him, your palms flat against his chest for support.

He's big, the stretch is painful—you're glad his fingers did the hard part.

You've never felt so physically full before, your stomach feeling weird.

His tentacle twitched impatiently inside of you, wanting to feel some sort of stimulation.

"You're s—so tight..." He groaned, resisting the urge to thrust his hips up into yours right then and there.

After you deemed that the pain wasn’t as unbearable anymore, you experimentally lifted your hips, and slammed them back down.

It felt heavenly. You couldn’t get enough of it. You needed more.

Your hands that were supporting your body balled up, and you started to ride him.

The both of your whimpers and moans mixed together, a sweet melody that felt surreal to listen to.

“So good for me.” Sebastian said between groans.

He moved your hands from his chest to his shoulders, his arms wrapping around your body once more.

“Hang on.” He whispered, leaning back just slightly more so he could have easier access.

His hips began thrusting up into yours, his tentacle somehow going deeper thanks to the angle.

His third hand moved from your waist to your hips, squeezing it while he continued pounding into you.

“So sweet, darling—fuck. All for me.” He buried his face into the crook of your neck, taking in your sweet scent that drove him insane.

He moaned against the scarred skin, “I love you.” He said between groans.

You wanted to say it back, you really did, but you lost yourself in pleasure.

Your mind felt fuzzy, as if there was nothing but dandelions occupying it.

His hold on you tightened, pressing you impossibly close to him, your chest flush against his.

The familiar feeling of your climax started to rise again, which caused your walls to clench around his tentacle tightly.

His hips were moving at an impossible speed, snapping up into yours as if that’s all that mattered, but it started to stutter. He babbled nonsense, trying to form a coherent sentence. All that was keeping him from falling apart were the animalistic urges to breed.

It was so sudden. Your climax hit you so harshly that you couldn’t even bring yourself to hold a sweet moan back.

That’s all he needed to finally finish. His sweet voice was all that filled your ears as his essence spilled into your womb. Sebastian’s arms fell limp, resting at his sides.

“S—Sebas…” You couldn’t finish your sentence, you were far too overwhelmed with everything. Before he had the chance to process everything, you collapsed onto him, he lazily wrapped his arms around you again.

Sebastian felt his weird genitalia retract, finally satisfied. “Weird body.” He said to himself, chuckling before looking down at your slumped form.

Your hair was extremely messy, almost as if you had run fifty miles nonstop; then got caught up in a tornado.

Your body was sticky with sweat, and his semen slowly seeped out of you.

“You’re so precious to me, [Name]. I really do love you a lot.” He continued on, not caring if he was basically talking to a wall. “For as long as I live, I want to dedicate it to making you happy. That’s all you deserve.”

“I never knew if my mom was right about love. I didn’t believe her, if I’m being honest. But, this? I never would have thought in a million years that I would have been able to find true love.”

He pressed his cheek to your head, something you did to him that he loved. “And yet, here you are. You quite literally changed everything. You’ve taken all of my firsts, I’m happy about that.”

He sniffled, voice cracking just barely, “I want to make it out of here with you and try to live a normal life. I… I want to marry you, [Name].”

Maybe he would discuss this with you when you were actually awake, and not drooling on him.

[overtake]

a black lace bralette 💜

CW: Infidelity through unintentional but also definitely intentional sexting

Max doesn’t send Daniel the photo deliberately.

Kelly watched too many videos about minimalism, got inspired, and is doing a massive closet clean out. Their bedroom is littered with fabric. Max doesn’t even know how half these items even fit on a human body. They’re a confusing mess of zippers and strings.

Kelly gave up on asking his opinion about three dresses in — somehow, “you look beautiful,” is the wrong answer when you say it more than once, and she banished him to the sim.

“I’m going to drop some of these off with friends and get dinner with them,” she says, holding up a bag of clothes and giving him a quick kiss. “Would you mind just taking the rest of the clothes and putting them in a box?”

Max rolls his neck and shoulders, then dutifully stands up from his chair. “Of course.”

She thanks him with another kiss then floats out the door. Max probably won’t see her for at least a few hours, but he’d rather get this out of the way quickly so he can get back to gaming.

He grabs an abandoned cardboard box and begins recklessly throwing things in, paying no mind to his work until his fingers catch on the neat edges of lace tucked inside a silky pink dress.

He carefully picks the item out and examines it, trying to determine if this was included deliberately or not. It’s a delicate black bralette with a pretty little flower detail over the place nipples would sit. He’s never seen Kelly wear this, and for good reason. The band is visibly too wide for her small frame, which means he should definitely toss it in the box. There are tags on it and everything.

He swallows, then tosses it back on the bed. It doesn’t hurt to double check, just in case.

When the bed is clear, he carefully spreads the fine lace over the stark white sheets and takes a photo. He keeps the tag in the frame so she can see the size.

Max Verstappen: This was tucked inside a dress. Looks big enough to fit me 😂 Keep or donate?

He attaches the photo and clicks send, then very intentionally does not check his phone again until after he’s closed up the box and heated up some dinner.

Daniel Ricciardo: Well. If you’re asking me, keep.

Daniel Ricciardo: I’d have to see it on first. It is your size after all …

Daniel Ricciardo: Might look good under this year’s polos

Max drops his fork with a clang and scrolls up to see that yeah, he’d clicked into his text thread with Daniel instead of Kelly. Amazing. Beautiful.

With Daniel, acting embarrassed about it would only make the situation worse. The best move with him, 100% of the time, is to lean into it.

He checks the time, then Kelly’s location. They haven’t even made it to a restaurant yet. Her dot is still firmly inside her friend’s building. She doesn’t always get his friendship with Daniel and the kind of humour they share, and this one would be especially tough to explain if she walked in on it.

He cuts one last look to the front door then slithers back to the bedroom. He yanks out one of the several navy polos hanging on his sparse side of the closet and tosses it onto the bed alongside the wrinkled shirt he was just wearing.

He reaches out three fingers and scoops up the bralette with them, letting it dangle in the air as he tries to figure out how to put it on. There’s no clasp, just some kind of elastic, so he figures he just has to pull it on over his head.

He adjusts it in his hands so the small triangles face the front, then goes for it. He gets a little tangled up in it first try, has to pull it back up to successfully place a complicated x-shape across his back, but he gets it settled. It’s a bit too tight on him, but it fits.

He adjusts the bra so everything is settled correctly and sitting right, then tugs the polo on without daring to look down at the lace on its own.

He pulls up the thread with Daniel, opens the camera, and takes a picture with the shirt tugged open just enough to see the black straps peeking out.

Max Verstappen: What do you think? Will I be best-dressed?

Daniel sends something back almost immediately, which is unusual for him. He’s normally a slow texter.

Daniel Ricciardo: Think I have to see it without the polo to really decide. Very fashion-forward, though.

Max’s body is warm all over, small beads of sweat starting to collect in the pits of his shirt. He can’t explain what comes over him. He moves on instinct, no thought, no consideration of what the existence of a picture like this could do to him if it got leaked.

He props up his phone on the bed, pulls off the polo, and sits in front of the camera. He’s learned a few things in his years as an Instagram boyfriend, and the self-timer is one. He clicks the three-second option and leans his torso forward a little so the bralette takes up more of the frame.

He can see it now, the full effect. The bra being too tight means it pushes the extra fat on his pecs closer together. His arms are pressed against his side, which furthers the effect of his barely-there-but-definitely-there tits. The black lace is a harsh contrast to his pale skin, but the flushed pink on his neck and chest soften it a little. The band digs into his flesh, but it doesn’t look bad on camera.

His athletic shorts look dumb in comparison, he thinks. He crops the photo just below the soft curve of hips, enough to cut out the mesh but keep his full upper body in the frame. The photo doesn’t capture his face — he’s not totally stupid, even if this photo is only going to Daniel — but you can see the barest hint of his unshaven stubble.

Max Verstappen: So? Think the team will go for it?

He watches Daniel type, then stop, then type again. It goes on for one minute, two, three, before he finally gets a voice memo. It’s only four seconds long, but he drops his phone on the bed and lets it play from there.

Daniel clearly has his retainer in, his words slightly lisped in that distinct way they do when his tongue hits plastic.

“I think you should bring that to Baku,” he says. He sounds like he’s aiming for a joke, and is halfway there, but his voice is straining at the end of the sentence.

Max lets out one long, shuddering breath. The lace feels too restrictive, indenting his skin like damning proof instead of an elaborate joke. He pulls it off, then crumbles the material and stuffs it inside the polo on his bed so he doesn’t have to look at it any longer.

He has to answer. He can’t leave Daniel on read, with this half-serious thing sitting between them, but he also can’t play it off entirely. It’s not — he’s happy. He’s in a good, healthy relationship with someone he loves. He stopped letting himself wonder about Daniel years ago, gave into the reality that Daniel’s jokes would never mean as much as Max used to think they might.

Max Verstappen: Maybe I will, maybe I won’t

Max Verstappen: You’ll have to get my polo off on Thursday to see 😜

He searches the emoji keyboard for wink, selects one with extreme caution. He thinks it strikes the correct balance of joking and flirty.

Daniel types, then stops, then types all over again.

Daniel Ricciardo: I love a challenge. See you Thursday.

The conversation ends there. Max finishes his now-cold dinner, tapes up the box for donation, and joins his friends for a few quick rounds of FIFA. He doesn’t tell Kelly about the bra and doesn’t delete the photo from his phone. Instead, he takes the polo with the black lace inside, opens the corner of his already-packed suitcase, and stuffs it inside.