#i wish people would just. do simple things!!!!!!!

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Calcharo, and Jiyan with shy gn s/o?

Jiyan

He doesn’t mind your shyness, not one bit.

He’s not exactly someone who can actively engage in socialising, especially not when most of his time was spent on the frontlines talking about strategies, supplies and coming up with ways in which they would avoid having mass casualties.

So if anything he’s the last person to judge you on your shyness. It would be unfair.

Jiyan is the person you go to for comfort, for advice because he brings you a lot of clarity and certainty unlike any other that you feel as though you could go to him for anything and he would try his best to help you, which is true.

He didn’t mind it when you practically tried to hide yourself behind him whenever there were people talking to him, he just reached a hand behind him in search of your own and holds it reassuringly until the group leaves, where he would then ask if you were okay.

Jiyan would much rather spend time with you in a secluded spot away from everyone, watching the Gulpuffs swim by as you both sat underneath the shade of a trees then be anywhere else if it made you happy.

He’s always preferred moments of peace and quiet after dealing with the chaotic and unpredictable situations he’s use to on the front lines, is sometimes he finds it hard to make his body relax and enjoy life when his eyes were always looking for the next big threat. So being in those moments of peace and quiet with you made jiyan relax easier as he had someone he deeply cared for to share this moment with.

He’d even find it even more peaceful if you were to fall asleep against his side, comfortable with him enough to allow yourself to be in a vulnerable position as he’s left to watch over you as you slept, always guarding you from everything and anything that would do you any harm.

Bonus if he falls asleep soon after, resting his head atop of yours and it acts as a cute moment to look back on with fondness and gratitude that you stayed by his side.

Jiyan worries that might not always be there for you due to his duty as General, he also worries that he might not make it back to you one day, that one day he’ll see you for the last time before going back to the frontlines to face the new threat.

So he makes you promise to plant a flower just for him if that were to ever be the case and you hugged him as tightly as possible in response, muttering that he wouldn’t die, jiyan wordlessly hugged you back equally as tightly, internally wishing that your words held truth to them for the future was always uncertain; now more then ever.

Calcharo (I love this Vergil/sepihroth looking beauty)

Another man who doesn’t care whether you were shy or not.

At first he might’ve intimidated you but after several instances where you were shown that he was far from the stories -or misconceptions as he’d call them- that you’ve heard about him and his group.

He’s a gentle and sweet man when you saw past the perpetually grumpy, brooding air about him.

He’s more or less protective over you and wants to keep you safe from anything and everything, human or not, no one was safe from his wrath if he were to be made aware of you being in any danger.

So Calcharo tries to stay close to you however he can so that he could keep an eye out for shifty characters with ill intentions, he does not tolerate it when people take advantage of people who couldn’t stand up for themself, it was pathetic and cowardly in his eyes and he want about to let you be their next target.

He’s a man of few words but that’s because he mainly lets his actions do most of the talking. So if he saw there was something you’d like but couldn’t find the voice to speak about it, he would silently stalk away and come back to present you with the thing you wanted in hand.

Calcharo could read you like a book and knew what you wanted and needed by a few simple bodily gestures. He wanted you to feel comfortable with him and he knew that takes time because he too took time to get accustomed to having someone in his life.

‘Do- do you ever get tired of me?’ You asked one day and Calcharo could tell it took all the willpower you had just to come up to him and say it.

‘What do you mean by that dearest?’ He said as he watched as you internally fight to get the words out and growing frustrated with yourself when you went to open your mouth, only for nothing but silence to come out.

‘Take your time.’ He calmly reminds you and you took a deep breath.

‘It’s just- I know I’m shy and struggle with doing things on my own such as order a meal or making doctors appointments, but I can’t help but think that maybe you’re getting tired of me for not doing things on my own.’ You admitted to him, finally getting the weight off of your chest as you stared at the brooding man in front of you, worried about what he might say.

‘I do not grow tired of you, I don’t think It’s right of me to grow tired of you when all you’ve ever been doing is trying your best.’ Calcharo replied as he stood in front of you and slowly reach for your hand and caresses the back of it with his thumb. ‘Your shyness is far from an issue for me and you shouldn’t have to be expected to be perfect at everything just to keep a partner or a friend.’ He squeezes your hand reassuringly. ‘So no, I do not grow tired of you.’

Calcharo couldn’t care less if you were shy or not, you were his partner and he cared for you immensely, which to him should be enough proof.

He may not be the best lover but for you, he tries.

[isatartdump]

You draw them all so cool!!! And awesome!! But is that top surgery scars on loop 👀 (sorry I’m also curious were you thinking about anything specific when you drew them in casual clothes cause they all fit the characters So Well) sorry for bothering you I love your art

YES! I think Siffrin, Loop and Isa have top scars (CAN!! Do a stretch and say Odile has them too but I am not ready to think about it, I think she'll get more butch lesbian than she already is)… Lemme talk about them and hope I don't accidentally spoil the game HA

Loop's are more like how people usually draw top surgery scars? Mostly because I draw them by joining stars up, so it KINDA looks like stars blowing up!

I believe Isa left some really small scars just for the simbolism of finally being his authentic self or something… Since in vaugarde they transition (or honestly just find new ways to become themselves both physically and mentally) by using craft so I kinda headcanon it to be like… Treating your own body like it's made out of clay, people can just opt to have no scars whatsoever. Way easier than it is IRL, haha. I wish… Also I believe he'd put some tattoos on there to be stylish and handsome and pretty but I also don't know what kind of tattoo Isa would choose to get. If I do a modern AU I might think about it…

And Siffrin I'm. I'm working on it… I don't draw them shirtless often enough to think about it… But I see them as little lines that end on a small explosion at the end. Simple but gets a point across- More so a thing to remind him of how far they've gone rather than a thing that will be seen by other people but to fair isn't this what top scars are for us sometimes? Little reminders that things get better and how far we've come?

Now that the top scar ramble is over!!!!! Onto the thinking abotu something while drawing them casual... I was mostly thinking about clothes that would fit them in a sense of like. Fitting their body shape and just generally looked like they belong in their wardrobe. It's mostly about comfort and feeling like "Yeah they went to the store and bought that pair of pants". At least in my brain.

Making them look confident and comfortable in clothes that either fit their personality or what they usually wear kinda gets the overall feeling of "Yes of course Odile would wear that" methinks :) I'd say Loop is kinda the hardest one to dress in a way that... They would dress? Since they're. Nakey nakey the entire game but then you just work with what you think this sassy motherfucker (/aff) would wear. They have an absurd amount of personality that I think would be hard to not go into how they wear clothes

Loop my beloved. Was gonna gatekeep this last one but you guys can have it :) Also you don't bother! Thank you so much for liking my little thingies <3

[jazeswhbhaven]

We outside with a Bad Boy~ (Satan Attacker Prologue React Part I)

I would say *spoilers* but this card has been out for a minute now so lol FINALLY, A BIH POSTED THIS

So let me first say, thank you all for sticking around and waiting patiently for my reacts to start up again. Now that I've been getting my sources from the lovely mooties and oomfs with the addition that there's some down time lately for content with PB so now I can hurry up and post some shit before they start hitting us with Belphegor and the next chapter which I assume will be all at once. A simple two-parter! Grab yourself a smol snackie snack and let's gooo~

Belial bae <3 So today is a rare day for Gehenna where the devils don't need to fight any angels and instead, everyone's doing their part and cleaning up and little and the nobles are doing their part as well! As you see Belial/Jjyu here telling everyone to take it easy because it's pretty much a "day off".

So Paimon is strong asf because he picked up a pile of rocks which turned out to be a damn wall lmao Thank you Zagan my babes, <3 that is a wall and he shouldn't pick it up

But nah Paimon can pick my fat ass up with one hand and just hold me up if he can pick up a damn wall.

Lol look at Leraye....being cute as per usual and then we get Astaroth warning everyone to be careful what they wish for when it comes to chaos returning quickly to Gehenna. Like I'm with Ro here...because enjoy your day where you don't have to fight through flying debris, rubble, and having those nice ass homes destroyed in a blink of an eye because Gehenna is literally a fucking war zone 90% of the time. But where there's down time...there's chaos somewhere....

AND that's when we pan over to MC in Satan's palace....btw his conference room looks so official like I love it for Satan.

But we've got our three kings here and they've showed up for some reason. It's funny that we get to see why...

First...MC was asking a question about what's going on in each country as to why they're there at the same time. Levi hit 'em with the "stay out of grown folks business" and I wanted to swing on him immediately because no one asked you to get snarky.

he tests my patience every day i swear

Beel is just speaking plainly but MC brought up a good point where he's never away for a moment his ass is ALWAYS gone lmao

Bael is throwing punches in the air rn if he could hear Beel say this, I know he is sick of him

Yes. That is mine. All of it. Bring it to me.

*Ahem* wait what were we doing? Oh right ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

So Mammon is just confident that his nobles are handling it well while he's gone. I mean in the first couple of chapters we see that it's clearly Eligos and Valefor holding down the fort since Bimet goes everywhere with him.

I love how Sitri is just always annoyed as hell when it comes to people gathering around MC like this. But I mean I don't blame him because why are all of them there?

So Beel just straight up says he came there to go on a date with MC (he's so cute I love him, where we going bae?) and then he proceeds to grab them by their waist (gawdddddd) and then he does his thing where he's sniffin' up on their clothes.

we know damn well he has money he just spends it too much lmao so the buying clothes thing would definitely happen

FORAS BBY HI :D

so he whisks MC over to Levi, and he apologizes for grabbing them so suddenly. like i feel we don't deserve Foras because he's so nice and soft and I just want to squish him.

So Levi wants MC to come to Hades for a serious test reason (as if Levi we're on to you) and Beel is like ah so you wanna go on a date too. (clocked him that's most likely why lmao) and Levi gets irriated but he doesn't hang him.

I have my own theory on why he makes empty threats with the kings, and it's mostly because he likes interacting with them and doesn't really want to hang them unless they really piss him off. So empty threats are his communication with them and that's why they all keep calling him "Levi" for short lmao

So Mammon comes up with his reasons for having MC, and he says he's happy to see everyone get along and wishes the other three were there (so yeah I would assume he gets along with all the kings since he wants to be around them) and he calls Bimet forward. So my boujie noble is here saying that since Mammon is a pacifist he just wants to pay everyone for allowing MC to come to Tartaros since the country is swimming in money and they can afford any price tag. Proceeds to then say low key everybody broke asf so don't even try.

Levi and Foras take that personally as you can see them being irritated. LMAO Bimet is always gonna call someone a broke bitch it's a given.

Beel is so cute I swear because he literally does not care about what's going on with what the other kings said. As far as he's concerned MC is going on a date with him and everyone else has to wait their turn.

"That's fixed"

Damn right it is, like, you tell 'em Beel <3

Okay so Levi got some hands with this clapback because he said that with no remorse and with the quickness.

So imagine how tall Mammon is right, imagine that the room shook when he stood up like that and looked down at Levi.

He's smiling so he's not even being threatening he's just like :D hey Levi real quick...

So Mammon is basically telling him, that he needs to act correctly because MC belongs to Tartaros and therefore he needs to respect their wishes to come with him to spend the day together. Levi of course is irritated again because everyone keeps cockblocking him.

Look at this sneaky little devil, being all like "there's gonna be a war in this room so let's go" as if he didn't cause any of that by agitating Levi in the first place lmao (granted Mammon also has been blocking Levi too)

What's weird is that Mammon and Beel have been blocking Levi but Mammon hasn't really directed any of that energy toward Beel at all so it feels like a strange dogpile on Levi. But honestly it's tension all around this room to where MC is feeling a certain way about it and feels bad that they can't be in multiple places.

I love this banter so far between them because this is truly how they interact when it comes to claiming MC and it's going to be a real treat when the other kings start getting involved.

SO this ends part 1. See you all in part twooooooo <3

[elia-the-bibliophile]

The Fast Lane to Fashion (Max Verstappen x Female Reader)

Genre: Fluff Word count: 3,1k

The one where Max’s manager hired a personal stylist for him.

Max squatted on the floor, his two cats, Jimmy and Sassy, lounging nearby with the kind of indifference only felines can muster. Max, however, was determined. “Come on, Jimmy, you can do it,” he encouraged, holding out a treat like it was the Holy Grail. Jimmy blinked, his eyes half-closed, clearly contemplating more important things—like napping. Sassy, on the other hand, stretched luxuriously and let out a yawn that seemed to mock Max's efforts.

He had spent the last two hours trying to get them to high-five him, but his attempts were as futile. “This is hopeless,” Max muttered under his breath.

Just as he was about to admit defeat, his phone rang, shattering the atmosphere. He glanced at the caller ID—Raymond, his manager. With a sigh, he accepted the call and put it on speaker, still waving the treat in front of Jimmy's nose.

“Hey, Raymond, what's up?” Max greeted, his attention split between the phone and his uncooperative pets.

Raymond's voice crackled through the speaker, sounding unusually jittery. “Max, buddy, don't be mad, okay? Just hear me out first,” he began, words tumbling out like they were in a race of their own.

Max raised an eyebrow, casting a bemused glance at Jimmy, who had finally acknowledged his presence with a slow blink. “Yea, sure. What's going on?” he replied, curiosity piqued.

“I, uh, well, I've hired someone for you,” Raymond confessed, his tone hesitant.

Max blinked, momentarily forgetting about his feline training. “Hired someone? For what?” he asked, his mind racing through all the possibilities.

Raymond took a deep breath before blurting out, “A stylist, Max. I've hired a stylist for you.”

Max's eyes widened, and he nearly dropped the phone. “A stylist? You've got to be kidding me, Raymond,” he exclaimed, his voice dripping with disbelief. “Why on earth would I need a stylist?”

Raymond let out a nervous laugh. “Well, you know, Max, there have been some… memes about your fashion choices. People are starting to wonder if that Red Bull polo is surgically attached to you!”

Max scoffed loudly. “Seriously? People think I have zero fashion sense just because I like to keep things simple?” he replied, rolling his eyes.

Raymond cleared his throat, relieved that Max wasn't outright furious. “Well, yeah. Something like that,” he admitted.

“What does it matter what I wear when I'm winning races left and right?” Max protested, his incredulity evident. “I mean, come on, mate. This is ridiculous.”

Raymond tried to soothe him. “I get it, Max, I really do. But image matters, surely it wouldn't hurt to switch things up a bit, you know?”

Max sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Fine, fine,” he relented begrudgingly. “But I'm not promising anything. And if this stylist suggests I wear anything other than comfortable clothes, I'm out.”

Raymond chuckled, sensing Max's reluctance but appreciating his willingness. “Fair enough, Max. Just give it a chance, okay? Who knows, maybe you'll discover a whole new side to your wardrobe.”

Max rolled his eyes, unconvinced. “Yeah, sure, Raymond. A whole new side of my wardrobe that consists of more Red Bull polos,” he quipped sarcastically.

Max sighed, turning back to his unimpressed feline companions. “Can you believe this, Jimmy? Sassy?” he addressed them as if they were humans. “A stylist. For me. It's like Raymond has lost his mind.”

Jimmy blinked lazily, utterly unconcerned, while Sassy stretched out and emitted a soft purr.

A wistful smile tugged at the corners of Max's lips. “Sometimes, you know, I wish I was just a cat like you two,” he mused aloud, watching as they continued to bask in their simple, carefree existence.

════════════════════════════════════

Y/N sat in the waiting room at the Energy Station, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her blouse, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. She glanced around, taking in the impressive display of trophies adorning the walls—each gleaming trophy a reminder of Red Bull's dominance on the tracks. The sheer number of them made her feel like she was sitting in a shrine.

This was her first meeting with Max, and the anticipation was practically electrifying. She stole a quick glance at her reflection in a nearby mirror, adjusting her hair and smoothing down her outfit once more. It wasn't every day that she was called in to style a world-class athlete, and the pressure to make a good impression was almost suffocating.

She was acutely aware of the challenge ahead. Raymond had drilled her on the importance of not scaring Max away with any extravagant fashion suggestions. After all, Max was rarely seen in anything other than his team's merchandise, and the last thing Y/N wanted was to make him uncomfortable and lose her job on the very first day.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as a woman in a Red Bull shirt approached her. “Ms. Y/N L/N?” the woman inquired, her voice friendly. “Mr. Verstappen is ready to see you now.”

Y/N nodded, her nerves tingling with anticipation as she quickly rose from her seat. “Thank you,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

The woman offered her a reassuring smile before gesturing towards a door at the end of the hallway. “Right this way,” she said, leading Y/N with practiced ease.

As they approached the door, Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself for the encounter that awaited her on the other side. With a final reassuring nod from the woman, Y/N squared her shoulders and stepped through the doorway.

She sent a quick prayer that Max wouldn’t be too hard on her.

════════════════════════════════════

Max drummed his fingers impatiently on the table, boredom creeping in as he contemplated making a swift exit for the seventh time in the last ten minutes. Despite his mercurial nature, he prided himself on his manners, so he resisted the urge, albeit begrudgingly.

As the door creaked open, Max glanced up with a practiced poker face, giving nothing away. His gaze met the hopeful expression of the woman entering the room, her smile wide and optimistic.

“So, Y/N L/N, who exactly hired you?” was the first thing Max inquired, his tone laced with skepticism as he leaned back in his chair.

“Well, let's just say I went through quite a long interview process," she replied, her voice tinged with amusement. “Raymond, then Horner after that, and lastly, believe it or not, even Geri had a say in it.”

Max raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “All that just to hire a stylist for me?” he echoed, unable to hide his surprise.

Y/N nodded, chuckling softly. “They were very thorough. I guess they wanted to make sure you wouldn't bolt at the first sight of a new wardrobe.”

Max couldn't help but laugh at that. “Well, they got that right. I'm not exactly known for my adventurous fashion choices.”

“Don’t worry,” Y/N said, her tone light and reassuring. “I promise not to suggest anything outrageous. No sequins or feather boas, I swear.”

Max snorted. “Good. Because the day I wear a feather boa is the day I retire from racing.”

Y/N laughed, the tension easing a little. “Deal. Let’s start with something simple. Maybe a t-shirt that’s not branded with Red Bull? Or a straight jeans?”

Max pretended to think it over, stroking his chin. “I suppose I could handle that,” he said. “As long as it’s comfortable.”

“Comfort is key,” Y/N agreed, feeling more at ease. “We’ll keep it simple. I’m here to help, not to turn you into a fashion icon overnight.”

Max relaxed a bit, appreciating her straightforward approach. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got. But remember, if I don’t like it, it’s back to polos and hoodies.”

“Fair enough,” Y/N said, her smile brightening. “I’ll take my chances.”

Max then stood up and walked over to her, extending his hand with a cocky grin. “Max Verstappen,” he said, his tone playful but confident. “If you manage to impress me, then maybe, just maybe, I'll consider keeping you on the team.”

Y/N shook his hand, matching his grin. “Challenge accepted. But I should warn you, I don’t do half-measures.”

Max raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, really? Well, let’s see if you can handle the challenge. I’m not exactly easy to impress.”

Y/N chuckled. “I’ve heard. But I’m not exactly easy to scare off, either.”

Max laughed, a genuine, hearty sound that filled the room.

Y/N playfully raised an eyebrow. “Honestly, I think this will be my easiest gig yet, considering the bar is practically on the floor,” she said, her tone teasing.

Max's eyes widened in surprise before he hunched forward, laughter bursting out of him. “Oh, you’ve got no filter, do you?” he said between laughs. “I fucking like that.”

She shrugged. “Just calling it like I see it.”

Max straightened up, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “You know what? If this fails, screw it, I’ll just sign you on as my personal entertainer or something. Keep the team’s spirits up.”

Y/N chuckled. “Careful, Max. I might just take you up on that.”

He crossed his arms, his grin not fading. “Hey, a good laugh is priceless in this sport. But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook that easily. Because I’ve got high standards, you know. World champion standards.”

Y/N laughed. “I’d expect nothing less. But don’t worry, I’ve styled worse. Much worse.”

Max's eyes sparkled. “Worse than me? Now that’s something I’ve got to hear.”

════════════════════════════════════

Y/N balanced a stack of freshly laundered clothes in her arms as she approached Max's apartment. She took a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. Knocking on the door, she prepared herself. The door swung open to reveal Max, looking casual in yet another Red Bull polo.

“Hey, Y/N. Come on in,” he greeted with a nod while holding the door for her.

“Thanks, Max,” she replied, stepping inside and carefully setting the clothes down on a nearby table.

Before she could even turn around, she felt a light brush against her leg. Glancing down, she saw Jimmy rubbing against her with a purr, while Sassy sat nearby, her wide eyes fixed on Y/N with an unusual interest.

Max’s jaw dropped. “What the hell? They usually hate strangers. They’re acting like you’re made of catnip or something.”

Y/N laughed, bending down to scratch Jimmy behind the ears. “I have a way with cats. Maybe they can sense I’m here to help you.”

Max shook his head, still looking baffled. “Unbelievable. They’ve never been this friendly with anyone. Alright, come on, let me show you the infamous closet.”

Y/N followed Max down a hallway, Jimmy and Sassy trotting behind them like loyal sidekicks. They reached a door, and Max swung it open, revealing a walk-in closet that could easily rival a small boutique. Shelves lined the walls, each one meticulously stacked with Red Bull merchandise in every form imaginable—polos, t-shirts, hoodies, jackets, caps, even socks.

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Wow,” she said, turning to look at Max like he was a lunatic. “This is… impressive. And slightly concerning. I didn’t know you could own this much team gear.”

Max rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Yeah, well, I like to keep things simple. Plus, they’re comfortable.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “Simple is one thing, Max. This is an obsession. But don’t worry, I’m here to bring a little variety into your life.”

Max crossed his arms, grinning. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got then. But I’m warning you, if it’s not comfortable, it’s going straight back in the bag.”

“Challenge accepted,” Y/N said, her eyes gleaming with determination. She turned back to the stack of clothes she had brought and started laying them out, presenting each piece. “Okay, first up, a simple white t-shirt. No logos, just pure comfort. Try it on.”

Max took the shirt, giving it a skeptical look before slipping it on. He stretched his arms, testing the fit. “Okay, I admit, it’s comfortable. What else?”

Y/N’s smile widened. “Next, a pair of dark jeans. Classic, versatile, and they miraculously manage to make even a Red Bull polo look halfway decent.”

She glanced at Max, who was eyeing the jeans with a hint of skepticism. “And don’t worry, Max, I made sure they’re not the skinny jeans you seem to love so much. I couldn’t bear to put you—or anyone else—through that kind of fashion torture.”

Max grabbed the jeans and ducked into the bathroom to change. When he came back out, Y/N couldn’t help but beam. He looked good—casual but put together, like someone who actually cared about his appearance.

Max glanced at himself in the mirror and nodded approvingly. “Not bad. Not bad at all. What’s next?”

Y/N pulled out a light gray hoodie. “For when you need an extra layer but want to avoid looking like a walking billboard.”

Max slipped it on, zipping it up halfway. “Okay, I’m impressed. You’ve managed to find things that are comfortable and look good. Maybe you do have some magic up your sleeve.”

Y/N laughed. “Told you. Now, let’s talk about adding some color to your wardrobe?”

Max shrugged. “As long as it’s not neon, I’m open to it.”

Y/N grinned. “Perfect. I’ve got just the thing.” She pulled out a maroon half-zip, soft and stylish. “Try this on.”

Max took it, and as he changed, Y/N felt a sense of satisfaction. This was just the beginning, but she could already see the transformation. And judging by the approving look on Max’s face, he could see it too.

“Well, Y/N, I have to say, you’ve done the impossible. You’ve actually managed to impress me,” Max admitted, his tone light but genuine.

Y/N gave a mock bow. “Thank you, thank you. But we’re just getting started. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be turning heads both on and off the track.”

Max rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of excitement in his expression that even he cannot hide.

════════════════════════════════════

Max had just stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist as he reached for his phone. The bathroom was filled with steam, giving the air a hazy quality as he scrolled through Instagram.

As he scrolled, his eyes widened in disbelief. There it was, a photo of him in that plain white shirt and the jeans that didn’t look like they were about to tear at the wrong move. The caption read, "Is this real life? Max Verstappen spotted in a non-Red Bull polo, and it’s not even race day! Miracles do happen, folks."

Comments flooded in faster than he could read them all. Some were filled with disbelief, while others were downright ecstatic. "I thought I’d never see the day!" one user exclaimed. "This is like witnessing the rebirth of a man," another commented.

Max couldn’t help but chuckle at the reactions. But there were also theories floating around. "Is Max hiding a new girlfriend from us?" one person speculated. "This has got to be the girlfriend effect," another chimed in. "Or maybe Red Bull has finally hired someone to ransack his closet," someone else joked.

Maybe this whole wardrobe makeover wasn’t such a bad idea after all. And if it meant keeping people guessing, well, that was just an added bonus.

He then scrolled through the messages, which has been buzzing incessantly with notifications.

A text from Charles popped up:

“Hey Max, just saw the photos. Are you alright, mate? Should we send help?”

Max couldn't help but chuckle at the concern in Charles’ message. Then another text came in, this time from Lando:

“Mate, what's going on with the sudden style upgrade?🤔😧 Is Horner holding you hostage or something?”

He typed out a quick reply to both Charles and Lando, assuring them that he was perfectly fine and that there was no need to send a rescue team. As for Horner's involvement, he simply responded with a string of laughing emojis, leaving the mystery of his wardrobe transformation to fuel their imaginations.

════════════════════════════════════

The next week, Max arrived at the Energy Station, still amused by the ongoing chatter about his newfound fashion sense. As he stepped through the door, he was immediately greeted by Horner and Geri, who wore matching expressions of excitement.

“There he is! Congratulations!” Horner exclaimed, clapping him on the back. "The reactions to your new look are absolutely fantastic. People can't stop talking about it!"

Geri's eyes practically sparkled with delight as she enveloped Max in a warm hug. “Oh, Max, I can't tell you how thrilled I am!” she gushed. “You look absolutely fabulous today, dear. That half zip and linen pants combo? Simply divine! Y/N has worked wonders on you.”

Max couldn't help but grin sheepishly at Geri's praise. He glanced down at his outfit, feeling a little self-conscious under the spotlight. “Thanks, Geri,” he replied. “I'm glad you think so.”

Horner nodded enthusiastically. “The fans are loving it, the media is eating it up—this is exactly the kind of attention we need.”

Just then, a group of Red Bull mechanics walked by, their eyes widening in surprise as they took in Max's outfit. “Whoa, that Max?” one of them whispered to his colleague. “Shit, I didn't even recognize him at first without the Red Bull gear.”

It seemed his fashion makeover was causing quite the stir, even among his own team.

Geri beamed at Max. “I've been thinking,” she began. “Maybe we should really consider keeping Y/N around. What do you say?”

He glanced at Horner, who was also watching him expectantly.

After a moment of consideration, Max let out a hearty laugh. “Well, I have to admit Y/N does have a talent for making me look presentable,” he quipped, earning a laugh from Horner. “I wouldn't mind having her stick around.”

Geri clapped her hands together in delight. “I'll talk to Raymond about making it official.”

════════════════════════════════════

That night Max lounged on his couch, his legs stretched out in front of him as he stared at his phone. The excitement of the day hadn't worn off yet, and he was eager to see if Y/N had any news about her contract.

His thumbs danced over the screen as he typed out a message.

“Hey Y/N, have you heard back from Raymond about your contract?”

He barely had time to set his phone down before it buzzed with a reply.

“Not yet, but I'm hopeful! What made you change your mind about keeping me around?”

What made him change his mind indeed?

He hadn't really thought about it, but now that he did, it was clear as day. With a grin, he tapped out his response.

“I guess I just realized that I need someone like you around.”

He replied, his fingers flying across the screen then he hit send.

[lovelybrooke]

Can I request how how Karlach, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, and Astarion react to Reader helping them/doing something nice for them? Assisting Gale when he cooks, Wyll to take care of his horns, being affectionate with Karlach, taking Halsin somewhere in nature with animals to relax, and buying things like books & new clothes for Astarion!

This is super cute!! I don't know if this was exactly what you wanted, but I hope you enjoy either way.

masterlist

---

Karlach 

Karlach always struggled with love, especially after all that has happened to her. When you live with the fire of hell burning within you, it makes it hard to truly build connections with people. She can't touch, she can't hold, so she can't love, no matter how desperately she wishes to. She's good at pretending however, putting on wide smiles and laughing along with the rest of you, but whenever she sees you hug Wyll or hold hands with Shadowheart, she is reminded of what she's missing out on, and it gets harder to pretend. 

Karlach feels what she assumed to be love when you told her that you've found the Infernal Iron needed to quell the fire in her heart, you were so excited, smiling so wide as you rushed over to Dammon as quickly as possible. You were so proud of yourself, but for a few moments, Karlach didn't know how to feel. She was confused, happy, excited, nervous, all at the same time. But when she felt your arms wrap around her, she knew what she felt, she felt love. She felt adoration building up from the very bottom of her being, coming out as a small laugh as she hugged you tight. She didn't want to let go, afraid that she would lose you forever, but more afraid that she would lose out on this feeling. This addicting feeling that is you. 

Gale 

Gale didn't know when he became the group's personal chef, but it's not something that he could back out now. 

He never thought himself particularly good at cooking, granted he's an adult, he knows how to take care of himself. But he's never been great at providing for himself. Maybe that's why he's taking his new position in stride, since he's not just taking care of himself, but other people as well. Especially with you around now, simply your presence has motivated him like no other. Since you've joined them, he's begun to enjoy providing more and more. He takes great pleasure in knowing you're safe and healthy, even if you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, being able to take care of you fills him with an emotion he can describe, but enjoys very much. 

What he enjoys even more however, is watching as you help him prepare meals for the rest of the group. You're intense and focused as you make sure everything is in order, and it's almost mesmerizing. He can't keep his eyes off of you, even when he knows he should be focusing on the food in front of him. He's never had someone be so prepared to help him, even with a task as simple as cooking, it's heartwarming to see you so willing to help him. 

Part of him wants to say something, tell you that he's more than capable of handling this on his own, but a stronger part of him simply wishes to watch you, a dumb smile on his face like he couldn't be happier. Because truly he couldn't, because someone cares for him, and it's the best feeling in the world. 

Wyll 

Wyll is a monster. He's grotesque and hideous, a demon who serves nothing but hell itself. But if it's the price he has to pay to keep people safe, then he'd gladly live the rest of his life with people fearing him.

Though he's not used to this. 

He wants to back away as you bring a hand up to touch his horns, of course after you begged for his permission, but he remains frozen. He doesn't even know why he agreed to this, maybe he secretly wanted to know what your touch felt like, his face felt warm at the thought, so he pushed it away. Your hands were soft, comforting as they touched his horns with so much care that it made his heart quicken. There was a hint of roughness to your fingers, no doubt from all the work you've been doing for them. 

Wyll wonders why you want to do this for him, he is more than capable of taking care of his horns on his own, but you seemed so adamant helping him clean them that he couldn't refuse you. You were always such a helper, prioritizing others instead of yourself. It is a rare trait to have, especially during these trying times. Wyll wants to protect that, protect your kindness and your selflessness. He wants to keep the warmth and the comfort you provide close to him, so that no one else will be able to steal it. 

Halsin 

Halsin has always felt the most himself when he was in nature. There were days when only the sounds of birds singing could calm him, where only the sight of flowers and foliage could put him at ease. 

Though you are a close contender. 

The sight of you in nature is something ethereal, even as you sleep peacefully on a blanket, the sun hits your face in a way that makes Halsin's heart soar. The man attempts to soak in your visage before you awake, wishing he could remain here forever, with you. In the background, birds sing and animals ruffle in the bushes, but the beauty of nature is nothing compared to the sight of you. 

Halsin wishes he could thank you, but with you so peaceful it seemed difficult to do so. This was your idea, an outing out in nature. He's been so caught up with the shadow curse that he never had time to truly relax. It seems as though the same could be said for you, you were knocked out cold, and he didn't have the heart to wake you, at least not now. 

Halsin hears you shift, drowning out all other sounds. He attempts to make himself as quiet as possible, not wanting you to wake just yet. He wants you to just be his for a while longer. 

Just for a moment, he wants your beauty to just be his. 

Astarion

Astarion doesn't like you, he hates you actually. You're annoying and clueless, you don't understand a thing. Every time he sees you in camp he wants to slam his head into a wall because you're so unbelievably sweet that it makes him want to scream. 

Astarion rubs a hand over a stitch in his shirt. It was crudely done, which he should be upset about, but he couldn't bring himself to fix it. Anytime he felt the seam, all he could think of was your wide smile as you handed him the cloth. Apparently you attempted to fix a tear that he acquired after fighting too roughly, and you just had to be so willing to help him. 

He didn't ask for your help, but you did so anyway. And it makes Astarion want to rip his hair out. Why do you have to be so kind, why do you have to be so helpful? Don't you know that you aren't going to receive anything in turn, that you're just going to end up empty and used. 

Astarion feels his fingers tighten around the stitch, his stomach feeling sick at the thought of you ending up like him. As he feels the seam under his fingers, he wonders why you're so helpful, why you feel the need to be so kind. A part of him thinks that it might be because you like him, you enjoy his company and want to foster a real relationship. But as he gazes out at you, sitting close to the fire in all your glory, he finds himself unworthy. He grips onto the stitch even tighter, like it's the only remnant of you he's allowed to have. 

The vampire wonders what would happen if he allowed himself to let you in, if you'd hurt him, empty him out, use him like all others had. Or if you'd remain your annoying, clueless, kind self. If you'd take all the broken parts of him and stitch them back together. 

Astarion would be sure to thank you if you did.

[airas-story]

Simple Gifts

“Here.” Stephen thrust the small package at Tony. He’d been debating with himself for the last three weeks. First about whether to get Tony something or not. Colonel Rhodes had assured him that Tony never expected anything from his friends, given how hard Tony could be to shop for—Stephen didn’t exactly want to stick himself in the friend category, anyways, even if he’d yet to make any sort of move. Then, when he’d finally decided to bite the bullet and do it, he’d had to decide what in the world he was supposed to give someone who had essentially everything.

Tony stared down at the package for a long moment, brow furrowed in bemusement, but he took the package. “What is it?”

Stephen would have thought that was obvious. “Your birthday present, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Tony repeated. “People don’t get me presents,” he said the words as though Stephen should know better. “I’m kind of hard to shop for.”

“Trust me,” Stephen said. “I’m well aware of that.”

Tony eyed him for a long moment, then shrugged before carefully unwrapping the present. Stephen almost wished he’d just rip the wrapping paper off and get it over with, but Tony was apparently being contrary—even unknowingly—because he seemed to have decided that he was going to finish with a perfect thing of wrapping paper.

It seemed to take forever for Tony to unwrap the present, prying open the box carefully. He froze.

Stephen bit his lip. Had this been a bad idea? Vishanti, this had been a bad idea. He shouldn’t have gotten anything. Or if he had, he should have gotten something normal.

“What is it?” Tony asked.

“They’re spells,” Stephen explained. He moved closer, slipping into Tony’s space. “Here, dump them out.”

Tony carefully tilted the box; the three spells fell out into his hand, connected by a thin chain that could be hooked around Tony’s wrist. Stephen had contained each spell in a small containment unit, about the size of a standard dice.

The green and silver metal square was wrapped around the orange spells, seemingly contained by glass, though that was an illusion rather than a reality.

Stephen picked up the chain, settling it on his own hand. He pointed at the first one on the right. “This spell is a spell of invisibility. It’s not an entirely impressive piece of magic, but it will last about ten minutes and can be applied five times.” He pointed at the second spell, on the left. “This one is a mild levitation spell. You probably won’t need it often, with the suit, but it’ll last about five minutes and can be used five times as well.”

Tony looked up at him, the expression on his face difficult to read. “And the last one?”

Stephen rubbed a thumb over the spell in the middle. “This is a shield charm, it should withstand all but the most powerful of spells. It can be used twice.” He’d had to decide what was more important, a heavy-duty shield spell that could only be used a few times, or a light-weight shield spell that had a higher number of applications. Knowing Tony, though, if someone was going to go after him, they’d go after him with the worst they had. “I’ve charmed the container on this one so that I can re-apply the spell once they’ve been used.” The others would vanish once they’d fulfilled their purpose, but this one…

It had been a tricky bit of magic, but well worth it. The others he could replace based off what Tony wanted—if he did ever want more—but this one… well, shielding Tony… Protecting him... There was nothing Stephen would replace that with.

Tony examined him for a moment. Stephen tried not to let his anxiety show. “Is this… all right?” He knew that Tony had some reservations about magic, still, but Stephen… well, it was what he had to give.

And admittedly, once the idea had occurred to him, Stephen hadn’t been able to stop. The idea of being able to provide Tony with magical protection had been unrelenting.

Tony bit his lip, then nodded. He held out his wrist. “Want to do the honors?”

Stephen smiled, relief filling him. He wrapped the chain around Tony’s wrist and then used a quick spell to do the latch. “Only you can take it off,” he said. “Or me,” he acknowledged. “Since it’s my magic, but for all intents and purposes, just you.”

Tony shook his hand a little. There was a faint clink of the spells knocking into each other. It looked innocuous, like a simple charm bracelet—though admittedly, one that wasn’t entirely Tony’s style—certainly not like a minor magical relic.

“How much work did this take you?” Tony asked.

Stephen shrugged. Several weeks worth, but he didn’t want to admit that. “Not much.”

Tony nodded, looking down at his bracelet. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Stephen said. “I want you to be safe.”

Tony’s smile was soft. “I don’t think I’ve ever been safer.” He paused, considering Stephen for a long moment. A small smile crossed his lips and then he was pressing up. The kiss came, soft and gentle, pressed against Stephen’s cheek.

Stephen felt a flush rush over him; he was sure his cheeks were bright red. So, yes, maybe Stephen hadn't been entirely inconspicuous about his feelings. Tony’s kiss made Stephen think he wasn’t entirely alone in that, though.

“Happy Birthday, Tony.”

[scenetocause]

💘 mando, pretty pls?

(omg so hard to decide on a heart, i wish i could send all of them!)

🫡 this is loosely set on that night when lando had everyone round to max's parents' lounge for a slumber party DJ set but i forgot it was martin not oli and whatever factual inaccuracy is actually ethical in rpf in this essay i will-

"Max." Lando says it casually, confidently, like he's not just tilted Max's world on it's axis.

He can't help spluttering. "You'd what, Bob?"

Lando's entirely unapologetic. "If I had to snog someone here, it'd be you, wouldn't it?"

That does sort of make sense, when Lando's slurping his can of White Claw and using the sensible, adult voice he did when he offered Max the Quadrant contract.

Except that. "We can't make out, mate."

Lando shrugs and Max is dimly aware there are other people here, that someone (Tom) is hollering at them to stop being fucking losers and get on with the game of truth or dare but that can wait, for now.

"Why not? Conor's got a girlfriend, I'm not snogging Tom and Oli's my brother. So, it just makes sense, doesn't it?"

Someone, Max suspects himself, whimpers quite pathetically.

"S'only a theoretic-whatever, innit. Just saying."

"Ok Bob." He sounds very weak. Feels very weak. Like he needs a cup of tea. Or perhaps he's become one, too dilute and half-cold and much too milky.

"What if it wasn't?" He's not sure that makes any sense, blurted out between sips of wine.

Lando catches up quickly, though. Always has. Looks at Max way too shrewdly for someone who's been drinking, like he's somehow got the focus to bore through Max's soul still.

"Go on, then."

He's never been very good at holding his breath. It makes him panic a bit, like he's drowning. 10 seconds is a long time to wait to exhale, staring at Lando to check he heard him right, through the blood thundering in Max's ears.

"Right, ok."

"Not here," Lando unfolds from the floor, offers Max a hand up. "Don't wanna do it in front of Oli, it's weird."

"Yeah, wouldn't want it to be weird," Max can't help the sarcasm. What the fuck's happening?

"Why would it be, mate?" Lando's got him backed up against the corridor wall and Max is forced to remember, for the millionth time, that he's the shorter one, now.

"Dunno." Max tilts his chin up, defiant now. If Lando's going to fucking snog him then like, just get on with it, yeah? They've nearly got here so many times, waking up tangled together in the Woking house and maybe if they had-

No. Max is done thinking about the past like superstitions, as though he could've saluted a few more magpies and made things different.

"Well don't be weird." Like it's that simple. It might be?

Lando leans in and Max has to scrabble a bit, to get a hold on him. Has to push his fingers into the muscle on Lando's shoulders, haul himself up a bit.

Annoyingly, Lando's good at kissing. Teases, with his tongue, before he nips at Max's lower lip to let him in. He's not as over-eager as Max thought he'd be, the times he's let himself think about them kissing. Has a sense of control, restraint that he knows the bloke must have a lot of but sometimes seems completely absent.

He's tender, too, holding Max around his waist like he's precious. Like this is romantic. Not like snogging one of your mates when you're both a bit tipsy. It's like an... old couple or something, still in love. Maybe that's what they are, still together after all this time and distance.

When Lando pulls back, squeezes Max around his middle, leans back in for another little kiss, Max has to stop himself saying anything stupid. No need to make it weird, is there?

[wildpeachfarm]

This whole topic makes me think about how CCs communicate to each other, even outside of dteam. At least with the twitch crowd.

My theory is that people that come into this thinking there's a pre-established script on how a cc should be, and that everyone else already knows it? Coupled with how most of these newer CCs are in their teens, they would be self-conscious about not standing out "the wrong way", so they just act how they think they should act. Which makes them see any form of communication as confrontation or a attack, as it makes them feel like "well, it's either IM doing something wrong or YOUR doing something wrong if we have to talk about it."

They forget or never thought about that being a CCs is no different than being any other job or community, and forget to just be a human and communicate?

Not going to lie, that's how a LOT of people communicate especially on the internet. There is this unspoken assumption amongst people that everyone needs to act the same way and speak the same way, and that any diversion from that is "wrong" or "weird" because it either requires more communication, more boundary establishing, or more curation of your own personal experiences online (and people don't want to do that work). When in the real world, these are very simple things you encounter and are not a big deal at all.

Unfortunately, it is typically a lot of teen-age people who are like this because they haven't had the life experience that teaches you to "respect that everyone does not and will not want to act the same as you and you need to respect that, communicate, and move on healthily because that's part of being a functioning human in society". So unfortunately we do tend to find young adult and teenage CCs in this crowd too.

Which is why I always appreciate mature communication over senseless demands to act a certain way because that's just...not how the world works lmao- and I wish younger CCs didn't feel so much pressure to follow a certain type of "behavior" that is demanded of people that really have far less communication skills and maturity than they think.

Dteam are such a wonderfully unique case of boys who were raised basically on the internet and yet STILL have super healthy ways of communicating and expressing their thoughts and I think all these other CCs should take the hint and start working on their own flaws in behavior and communication because there is already a very jarring difference between how dteam handle sensitive situations vs how everyone else does.

[itskattkm]

The air in my lungs

Chapter 8

Cairo Sweet x Fem Reader

Summary: A stroke of fate changes you and leads you into the arms of Cairo Sweet. Will she be your downfall or save you?

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, Grief, Injuries, Smoking, Trauma, anxiety, sexual content, student x teacher mentioned, harm, blackmailing, bad grammar

A/N: for my Cairo lovers. I’m sorry for not updating so long. Much is planned and the fic will be long! I wanted this chapter to be longer but since a few asked for new updates her it is my dears🧡 I’m having some days off now and hope to get some new chapters done. Have fun.

Masterlist | previous chapter | Next chapter

The pressure of the dash was massaging your back when you sat in the whirlpool with closed eyes and your head leaned back resting on the edge. When you entered the pool house you didn’t saw the whirlpool immediately, only when Cairo showed it to you. It was actually right beside the pool, in a corner and covered by many of plants. “You like plants and the color green right?” You asked. They were so beautiful and you wished you would now what they all were called.

Cairo was right by your side and watched you inspecting the plants “I do… I also like bugs, beetles and spiders” you laughed and sighed looking at her “spiders?” Cairo nodded and shrugged her shoulders saying “yeah…”. You grinned wide and shook your head. This made Cairo curious “are you afraid of spiders?” She asked teasing. You looked serious at her but your eyes were still showing the joy you felt “I hate them… but somehow they love me. I could call myself spider man… or well spider woman” this made Cairo laugh.

You sat up and turned towards her “I’m serious! They follow me everywhere and I find them in the craziest places without even trying. It’s like an instinct. I look into a direction? Boom there’s a spider… the house is empty? My bedroom is their hotspot… even my car. I once jumped out of my car while trying to drive, because of a spider”

Cairos eyes widened and she tried to hold her laugh back “seriously?” You smirked and nodded “I was about to shift the gear to start driving. But a spider was sitting on the gear lever and then I just jumped out… making the car choke off” Cairo looked at you speechless wich made yourself giggle when you leaned back beside her.

“I already found three different spiders on those leafs” you said and pointed out with your finger into one direction. Cairo furrowed her brows and turned to look into that direction. And there she was. A Yellow garden ball weaver spider. Cairo was impressed. “Well… I love them” she said teasing and looked at you. You grinned “so my instinct maybe brought me right into your arms then? Or your attracted by my presence like the spiders”

She smiled wide and watched the spider crawling away “but why do you like them? And what’s about the color green? I see it everywhere. I know you have a green bag pack… headphones but this mansion? It’s like you’re living that color out…” you said curious and looked softly at her.

“Well green stands for things like harmony, stability, hope and nature in general… It always makes me feel relaxed and calm. Green is a color that is often underestimated. A lot of people always go for the colors red and blue when it comes to things like logos or colors of clothes. But green is a color that people don't think about much, and I like that. It's a nice and relaxing color. It just makes me feel so calm when I see it now. It's just that simple!"

Y/n nodded and said in a calm tone “it really is underestimated. Did you know that our human eyes see 50% green, blue 25% and red 25%?”

This made Cairo smile and chuckle slight. She nodded and appreciated the fact that you showed interest and tried to have a conversation about her interests.

“And the spiders?” You asked again while putting your hand on her thigh.

“They make me feel safe. They make me feel like I can relate to them. When people see spiders.. they are always scared and they always try to kill them or stay away from them. But when I see a spider I feel like I can trust it. Because I am the same way. I am a mysterious type of creature that people want to destroy." You looked at her with pure admiration and smiled about that comparison.

“I won’t kill you… I promise” you said a bit joking while moving your thumb in circles on her knee. The corners of her mouth quirked up, leaning in slowly “I really appreciate that”. Turning towards each other. The warmth of the water making your body feel so relaxed and comfortable in the moment.

Cairos body came closer and closer, you could feel her presence getting intensive. Her eyes were switching between your eyes and lips till they just remained at your lips. You were moistening your lips unintentionally, felling the heat coming from her body when she sat down in your lap. Her hands moving slowly and smooth on your shoulders just to hold your neck. Stunned. that was your reaction to that. You couldn’t even react properly cause in the next moment you felt Cairo pulling your hair so you would lean your head back, you did and her lips met yours. Fierce she made you almost gasp for air with the amount of passion she was using. It didn’t took her long to explore your mouth with her tongue and a soft moan escaped you.

Your hands rested on her hips. Pulling her closer, feeling a pulsing between your legs. Your body’s merged and you could smell the scent of vanilla, coffee and burned wood wich hit your nerves.

Lips found their place on Cairos pulse. You inhaled deeply, brushing her cold and soft skin with them. You were trembling. Her scent making you fall into a haze where nothing else mattered anymore. Just her.

Cairo felt your wet lips on her pulse, a shiver went down her spine, making her grind on your lap slowly. Breathing heavy you felt like something was missing. She reached out for your jaw and held it tight in her hand. You could see a flicker in her dark eyes, showing you the lust she was feeling. You felt so intimidated by her that you almost felt dysfunctional.

Still holding your jaw in her hand, she kissed you hard. Her saliva moistening both your lips before she bit into your lower lip. Quite sounds were leaving you, making you feel like you could explode by every touch. Her hand moving down your chest, going their way through your breast and resting on your stomach. She was caressing your body, moving herself as close to you as possible while her hips kept moving into your lap.

Your face was still held by her with the other hand. It was interesting how she was taking out all the air of your lungs but also managed to keep you breathing. Cairo was holding the band of your underwear and pulled slight on it wich made you twitch. She smiled seductive, feeling good about the fact how she made you react. “Relax…” she whispered into your ear before placing her lips onto your pulse, feeling your heart rate going up. Your head fell into the back of your neck and Cairo began to move her lips along your throat.

Soon both your bikinis were lying on the floor somewhere near the whirlpool. Cairos body rocking into your thigh while her hand began to explore you in a more private place. You were breathing heavy, feeling so much pleasure that your mind couldn’t handle it. It kept shutting down just to come back with a need of more.

“Cairo…” you whispered heavy when she bit slight into your neck. Satisfied Cairo licked along your pulse before penetrating you with the full length of her two fingers. It made you tremble slightly, you felt your walls get tight around her fingers wich made it hard for you to stay quiet. “I Wanne hear you say my name…” she whispered luring and moved her fingers slowly out “again…” they moved back in “and again” then she angled her fingers which made you moan.

She smirked satisfied and gave your lips a light bite before going deeper wich made your jaw turn stiff and you only manage to say her name with a breaking voice. Cairos grin turned wider and she kissed you hard, her tongue getting lost in your mouth before she whispered teasing “what? Can’t you handle me?”. Your head fell back again and a brief “fuck…” escaped the back of your throat. Cairo making you curse already. Then her movements became faster and you could feel her eyes watching every reaction she could get from you while placing open mouth kisses along your jaw and neck. Tasting your skin with her tongue.

Like this wasn’t already killing you, she kept grinding on your tight. You couldn’t really feel her wetness due the water but you felt her clit moving over your skin again and again which made you even more turned on.

“You’re killing… me…my dear” you panted which made her smile almost evil before she moved her fingers even deeper. Her knuckles touching your cunt. You arched your back, craving for more. Cairo felt you getting tighter around her fingers, she began to move in a slow pace now, turning her fingers while doing so. You felt your clit throbbing, getting so tight it was almost too much. Sitting up you pulled your hand around Cairos neck kissing her deeper almost in a starving way. You were breathing heavy like you were taking a long run. Your heart was pumping so much blood through your body you felt like you couldn’t breathe. That’s what she made you feel like. You moistened your lips brushing them over the skin you could reach above the water. The effect Cairo Sweet had on you was crashing down on you like hard rain. No matter how hard you tried to keep your defenses up, keep those feelings deep inside of you away and hidden… she managed to get them all out. You had no control. One moment you felt nervous and shy, the next you forgot about it all and became a pool of desire and longing. This woman was your weakness and you were sure she could bring out things of you… you wouldn’t recognize yourself.

[teslaluvszombies]

NOT MY FATHER ; enemies to lovers. (reader is shane’s daughter) — part one .

(intended lowercase)

notes: au where the apocalypse happened when he was older plus all the events, so shane's murder attempt happened when he 17 (for plot reasons)

warnings: carl is sort of a dick at first, mentions of attempted murder, bittersweet ending (part two will be very happy I promise)

description: carl and you had been inseparable before the apocalypse but that quickly changed the night your father lost it.

everyone longed for the life they were forced to leave behind when the apocalypse started, some loathed it, it depended on the situation. you, however, were in the vast majority of people who missed it, who wanted back what they once had, who they once had.

it had been several years since the outbreak started and you had come to terms with the fact that this was just how things were now. your life before the apocalypse was simple, you lived with your father, shane, he was an amazing dad despite the hours he worked. when your father was at work you would either be at school or staying at lori's, lori had agreed to watch over you along with her son, carl. carl was your best friend, you did everything together; read comics, play video games, watch tv — whatever kept the two of you entertained.

at least, that's how it had been.

ever since shane had tried to kill rick in a sick attempt to regain lori's heart carl had shown a strong distaste for you. it made you angry. you wondered how the boy you'd grown up with could hate you over your father's actions, you weren't the one who executed them so why?

when it had happened you assumed carl's coldness would eventually wear off, but it never did, it had been years and he still expressed the same disdain for you. you could tell he wished you were someone else, wished you weren't the spawn of such evil, but it just wasn't possible.

rick never treated you any different, he knew it wasn't your fault, so why didn't carl?

you learned to stop questioning him so much or trying to make amends, it didn't make any difference so you quit wasting your time. that seemed to anger him more, you didn't understand why considering it was his request to you.

you thought being in alexandria would help lessen the tension between you two or at least make it more avoidable, but it was to no avail, he seemed to seek you out just to spare you a scoff or scowl. you hated it, if he wanted to scorn your being then so be it, but couldn't he refrain from making it so obvious?

eventually, rick had torn him a new one after he had crossed a line and he began to leave you alone.

that was until it was deemed smart to send the two of you on a run together. alone.

it had started off fine, silent but fine. normally, silence in a situation like yours would be unbearable, but the possibility of what could be said if either of you spoke was much more unpleasant, and you were certain you were right when he did speak.

you were crouched down, shoveling supplies into a duffle bag while he was standing guard in case any walkers tried to sneak up on you two when he decided to speak, “do you even care about what he did?”

you felt yourself flinch in shock, not expecting him to speak, your lips pressing into a thin line when you processed his question.

“of course I do.”

“then why don't you act like it?”

you couldn't resist the scoff that urged to escape your lips at the accusation, your fingers tightening around the bag they held. “how am I supposed to act? I have apologized a hundred times, cried, tried to make amends— it's never gonna be enough, is it?”

“he tried to kill my father—”

“yeah, carl, he did. shane did. shane tried to kill your father, not me, when are you gonna get that?” you spat, zipping the duffel bag and throwing it over your shoulder. you could hear his hesitation to speak again and used it to your advantage, allowing yourself to quickly exit the store and make it back to the car before he did.

sometimes you couldn't believe the audacity the boy had, did you care? of course you cared, was he out of his mind?

the shuffling of feet dragged you out of your thoughts, you could see carl making his way in the direction of the car and decided it would be a good time to throw the supplies in the back — there wasn't much in the store to loot but it was better than some of your other runs. you closed the door of the car and made your way around to the passenger side, climbing in.

the ride back was just as silent as the ride there, minus the tapping of carl's fingers on the wheel. you could tell he was thinking about something, you were sure that it was related to the conversation you two had just moments ago. you hoped that maybe he finally realized you weren't to blame for the actions of your father, but then again, the chance of that was very slim; you had been trying to convince him for years, one petty argument wasn't gonna change anything.

you didn't waste any time returning to your house the second you arrived back, too overwhelmed with fury to care about much else. you trudged up your stairs and threw yourself on your bed, burying your face in the mattress, allowing yourself to find refuge in the soft material. tears found their way from your eyes into the cloth, absorbing it along with all your sorrows — you weren't one for self pity but you desperately wanted answers, wanted forgiveness for crimes you hadn't committed, and most importantly wanted your best friend back. was there really nothing that could be done to mend what your father had broken? you didn't want to blame him but you did, you resented him for what he did and what he caused. everyday for the past 3 years you sat and pondered in a puddle of ‘what if’s — what if your dad hadn't lost it? what if he was successful? what if carl never blamed you? still, nothing changed the present, you were still left without carl by your side.

you hear a sigh in your doorway, jolting up to see maggie standing there with crossed arms,

“I told them it wasn't a good idea to send you guys together.”

you couldn't help but laugh as she approached you, taking a seat next to you.

“you're probably the only smart one out of them.”

“what happened?”

maggie and you were never really close, because, frankly, you weren't close with anyone anymore, but she seemed to care and notice things and you appreciated that; you trusted her. “he thinks it's my fault, he doesn't say it but I can tell. he thinks I don't care— it's like he's convinced I'm heartless.”

“with the way you sit in here crying about it, I doubt you're heartless, he just needs someone to be angry at.”

you nod, a soft sight leaving your lips, “yeah, I just wish it wasn't me.”

a slight frown was all she gave in response, resting her hand on your shoulder for a moment in a brief attempt of comfort before getting up to exit your room. you listened to her footsteps become distant as she descended down the stairs, throwing yourself back against the mattress once she was no longer within earshot.

you guessed she was right, maybe he did just need someone to be mad at and you just happened to be the perfect candidate, how unlucky.

you had no desire to leave your room after the events of today and opted for a nap to cure your exhaustion and hopefully your desolation.

you didn't bother changing into night clothes and instead focused on untying your combat boots, you tossed them to the side and crawled under the comforter, relishing in the comforting feeling. it didn't take long for you to become a victim to sleep, quickly drifting off and being met with a blank mind.

sleep was the ultimate painkiller, that was something you stood by, but with the apocalypse it was just about as hard to come by as ibuprofen. when you did get the privilege of sleeping you took it as a delicacy, you used it to let your mind stray away from carl and instead become blank or filled with dreams. nightmares were rare for you, but the select few times you did have them were nothing major so you never had to worry about them like others did, which you suppose made you lucky.

you weren't sure what time it was when you were awakened by the sound of knocking on your window.

your hand immediately found its way to the knife you had on your nightstand, you kept a tight grip on it as you approached your window as quietly as you could. you pulled the curtains aside to get a view of who caused the noise, you felt your body go rigid at the sight, the knife in your hand falling to the floor and clattering on the hardwood.

carl grimes. carl grimes sat crouched in front of your window.

once you came down from your shock enough to move, you opened the window, moving aside so he could climb in. he landed on your floor with a soft thud, immediately standing to his full height and stretching, his gaze lingering on you as he did so.

“why are you here?” the words came out soft and unthreatening unlike you had intended, your voice wavering slightly. he moved away from you take a seat on your bed, waiting for you to take the spot next to him,

“I wanna talk.”

you got the hint and sat down next to him, staring at your lap, avoiding making eye contact with him. “okay.”

“you were right— today when we were out, you were right. you didn't do anything, shane did. I was just angry, I wanted to be mad at shane, to take it out on him, but he was gone so I took it out on you, his daughter. when it happened it all felt the same and I never let it go, I never even allowed myself to think about it. I saw you and saw shane and that's all it took I guess.”

“I'm not my father, carl.” your broken voice confirmed, the tears from earlier resurfacing and streaming down your cheeks. you've waited years for this conversation and when you finally get the opportunity to have it every last emotion managed to find its way to the surface.

“I know, I see that now. I'm sorry.”

“why wouldn't you just talk to me? I could've told you that a while ago, I shouldn't have had to wait 3 years for you to finally come to your senses and realize that my father is the one who went crazy, not me. I shouldn't have had to mourn a friendship that could've been so much more if you would've just noticed that.” your tear filled eyes rose to look at him, your stare asking him every question you've asked yourself over the years, showing him all the confusion, the anger, the sadness.

“I couldn't. I just couldn't.”

“that's not enough, carl! I want answers, I deserve answers!”

“because I was in love with you! I was in love with you and I couldn't be in love with you then!”

you froze, your eyes widening in shock, “…what?”

“I was in love with you and I knew you were in love with me too, I couldn't handle it. I was mad at you for something you didn't even do and I couldn't bear being around you knowing all I could see was him and what he did while I still loved you.”

you sobbed. you couldn't do much more than that. he was right, you had been in love with him and you still were, he knew why you were so upset — he knew that your longing was for more than a lost friendship. what had happened wasn't fair, not just to you, but to him too; you finally understood why he acted the way he did and now you couldn't bring yourself to be angry with him, all you could feel was despair. you felt him wrap his arm around you, pulling you closer to him and you couldn't help but lean into him while continuing to cry.

“I'm sorry. I should've told you sooner.”

— a/n : part two will be out soon, I promise it will have a happy ending. thank you for reading! you can send me requests if you want.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Improper - A Luca Changretta/Reader One Shot Story.

Ahhh, this took me back to my youth, besties, writing the experience of a first time with a first love! So yes, as I mentioned yesterday, this features a young!Luca, he and reader both losing their virginity to one another ahead of their wedding. Because they're naughty. Haha! Enjoy :)

Words - 3,750

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

He was always the handsomest boy in school, with the darkest hair and the most irresistible, peridot flecked eyes, the Italian blood running through his veins giving him something extra where appearance was concerned. Nobody else looked anything like Luca Changretta. He was tall, too. Even at twelve when you both left the classroom behind, but god, what four years did to that handsome boy, turning him into the most gorgeous young man you’d ever laid eyes upon.  

He knew it, too. Knew what he had. Knew he looked more like a twenty-year-old than a kid of sixteen. Knew there were grown women in their early twenties who – as they put it - ‘wouldn’t half give that Changretta lad a run for his money, I can tell you!’ as they viewed him with lust in their eyes, their improper thoughts spoken in hushed whisper. After all, for a lady to speak that is wholly uncouth, but you could scarcely blame them. He is magnificently handsome. 

Luca doesn’t want them, though. His desire only has eyes for one. You.  

Mills & Floss is a small factory operation right on the boundary between Small Heath and Bordesley Green, where you’ve found work as a sewing machine operative. From seven in the morning until four in the afternoon, your fingers feed delicate fabrics into a sewing machine. Curtains, tablecloths, cushion covers, everything relating to home furnishings. It’s tedious work, but it’s a wage, a few vital shillings to go towards your mother’s pot at the end of every week to pay your keep.  

In your household, you either worked or you married. The latter was going to happen, too, your parents and Luca’s arranging everything, a summer wedding scheduled for that year of 1896. With just weeks to wait, it will be simply wonderful; no longer seeing him under the supervision of a chaperone, free to do whatever you want with the boy who has enamoured you completely.  

What you want above all? Well, it’s what all young people wish for secretly, beneath the veil of modesty and properness. As it turns out, you will receive it much sooner than your wedding night, too.  

“’Ere! Your young man is waiting for you outside, (Y/N)!”  

Your head shoots up from where you’ve been retying your bootlace, the boom of Victoria, the loudest of the sewing machine operatives reaching you from the window she peers out of. Bustling over to her side, your grin widens in an instant to see your love there, the women all cooing softly as they notice the rosy blush flushing your cheeks.  

“No chaperone either, ooh! Now there’s a thing!” Elsie, a girl of your age whispers, all the women giggling. 

You wave a dismissive hand. “There is bound to be one. His cousin will be milling around somewhere, he always is.” Indeed, your meetings with Luca are always supervised, that supervision usually coming in the form of both of your parents when the families meet for dinner, or Fabrizio, Luca’s cousin, who watches you both like a hawk should Luca call to court you away from either of the family homes.  

Even a simple stroll around the centre of Birmingham, or a visit to the park to spectate at the band stand, and you must be escorted by a third.  

It is a surprise to have your love meet you from work, even more so that when you peer into the street below, there is no sign of Fabrizio. You were expecting them both a little later to call upon you at home, Luca mentioning something about a walk to the local boating lake.  

“He’s probably gone to buy cigarettes.” You decree, feeling a little uncomfortable about the connotations of it, your love waiting for you with no chaperone in sight. What would people think? Moving away, you collect your little lacy shawl and wrap it around your shoulders, lifting your dress as you take the stairs down to the bottom floor, past the rows of sewing machines now come to a still, the factory about to close for the day.  

“Afternoon,” Luca greets you with casually, chewing on a matchstick nonchalantly, removing it to take your hand and kiss it. “You look beautiful, as always.” 

Oh, his charm. He’d be insufferable with that little slither of arrogance, if he wasn’t so damned cute with it, too. It's the little hint of boy there still lurking within the tall, gorgeous young man that sets your heart to flutter every single time.  

“Thank you,” you smile, “and you appear to be missing a cousin.”  

The way his lips curl into a grin has your insides melting. He never fails to make you swoon. “I am. Do you want to know what else I’m missing?” he asks, loosely draping his arms around your waist. 

“Go on,” you urge. 

He leans to your ear, fingers teasing a little circle over the boning of your bodice. “Parents at my house. They’re out until later tonight, Angel is god knows where, so I have an empty house and beautiful girl I want to take back to enjoy it in.”  

Your gasp has him laughing softly. “Luca! You don’t mean...” 

“I do.” He continues to laugh as you take his arm, walking away from the factory. “You need to stop with that prim and proper demeanour. When Fabrizio left us alone last time, the way you kissed me said loud and clear exactly what you wanted.”  

You can’t help but tease a little in the face of his cockiness. “And what do I want, Luca?” 

“Me,” he begins, leaning in close, “naked against you, pushing my nice, thick cock right up into your...” 

“That’s enough!” A slap hits his chest, your love laughing loudly. “At least in public.”  

Those words put a definite spring in his step as you walk towards the horse tram stop. Luca’s house isn’t too far, but with an added urgency to return, a faster means of transportation than mere feet upon cobblestones is required. He pays for you both while you greet the two beautiful, black shire horses with a stroke upon their velvety muzzles, climbing aboard to sit at the rear.  

The tram moves off after a few more people have climbed aboard, and for the entire duration of the journey, you are beside yourself with nerves and excitement in equal measures. Sex before marriage is scandalous, shocking behaviour, definitely not to be partaken of. Your love is not the type of man to be so dissuaded, though. He’s rebellious through and through, and that in itself makes it all the more exciting.  

You’re about to go and partake in something very enjoyable; the reality that you both know you shouldn’t be doing it only adds to the thrill. As does the fact that he sits with his hand rested upon your thigh, fingertips gently squeezing.  

“I can’t wait to take this dress off of you, peel away your underwear and kiss you all over, my sweet amore,” he whispers, kissing the side of your neck, making you shiver as you try not to grin. There’s an older woman sitting nearby, looking at you both with utter distain for such public displays of affection. “And I do mean all over.” 

To kiss him right now would be enough, but hearing how he wants to place his mouth all over you has heat gently misting your skin, the confidence he shows over what’s about to happen adding to the heady rush. He’s never done it before, or at least if he has, he fibbed to you when he said that he hadn’t.  

He speaks with all the confidence of a man who has enjoyed a woman, though, and goodness how it turns your senses inside out. It makes you feel daring and full of zest, enough to take your fan from the small bag you carry and flick it open, giving yourself a liberal wafting before holding it in front of your face, boldness ensnaring you, pulling him into a heated kiss behind it.  

Those kisses have you tingling between your thighs, his tongue nudging and swirling with yours, pulling away from him before it gets a little too heated. You shan’t disgrace yourself publicly, although the move did attract a few negative eyes. All except for one lady, surprisingly the most elderly upon the horse tram, who chuckles to herself as you blush a little.  

“Oh, ‘tis young love!” she admonishes the whispers of the other passengers. “Leave them be, for heaven’s sake!” Shaking her head, she turns to you. “These pompous women here, acting as if they never kissed a boy behind a fan. I certainly did when I was a girl.” She then stands, smoothing her billowing skirt, ready to alight. “Enjoy your afternoon, my darlings.”  

“We will.” Luca chimes brightly, nudging your side. Oh, he truly is pure devilment. Those women still view him with utter distain, your love smirking, eyeing them back with defiance until they look away. They’ve picked the wrong lad here, if they wished for him to feel shame. You’re quite certain that Luca doesn’t know the meaning of the word.  

Four stops later and you are climbing from the tram, taking his arm once more and walking a little further up Coventry Road, towards the townhouse the Changretta family call home. It is a stark difference to your own residence, your family not poor but not as wealthy as his, your home above the pub your parents run much less spacious. Luca even has his own bedroom, a foreign concept to you entirely, having to share with your younger sisters.  

That bedroom is where he takes you after entering the empty house, removing your boots at the door as per Luca’s mother’s wishes, passed on through him. The anticipation ramps up with every step you take up the steep staircase, your heart thrumming as the nervousness of it winds through your belly.  

Entering the room, you glance around, taking in your surroundings. The bed is actually a double, Luca having told you that already, that he enjoys spreading out as he sleeps so nagged his mother into it. It’ll be coming with you to your new home once you are married, along with all the dark, carved wooden furniture. Vincente and Audrey have been very generous in purchasing a little back-to-back for you to begin married life in, and you cannot wait until you are carried over the threshold in your wedding dress. 

The only dress on your mind at the moment is the one your love’s hands smooth over as he stands behind you, fingers pattering over the fastening of your bodice as you remove your shawl, feeling the lacings binding you tightly begin to loosen. He pauses, and you feel him stiffen a little. He’s never undressed somebody before, of course.  

Turning to him, you reach behind yourself, loosening the fastenings further, allowing you to wiggle yourself free of the tight restrictions, pulling the ribbon that ties your underskirt as well, the masses of fabric pooling in a froth around your ankles as you step from them. His eyes ink with lust at seeing you there before him only in undergarments, your hands still toying, unhooking your brassiere before revealing your breasts to his hungry eyes.  

“I think the rest should be easy enough for you to take off yourself,” you speak, reaching for him.  

His hands roam over your skin for the first time, and your heart pangs a little to feel them tremble against you, a little slip in the bravado he’s show so far. Unless those shudders are excited energy. Perhaps a little of both as he steps nearer, nuzzling you softly before his mouth covers yours.  

The kisses you share are urgent, but not frantic, building steadily as you move with him to the bed. He sheds his jacket, your hands taking up the task of undoing his tie and shirt, the movements all a little awkward as he removes your undergarments. Seeing what lies beneath his clothes is a sight that you shall never forget, a beautiful, lean body ridged with slender muscles, smatterings of dark hair flecking his chest and belly, his light olive skin celestial soft and blemish free.  

Your hands explore him, nails softly grazing, your lips pressing kisses against his chest. His skin is hot, sumptuous in feel, shaky hands wandering as you finally dare to lower your gaze. Oh, wow. So that’s what a cock looks like, swollen and hard, begging for your hand as it bobs a little. You’ve no clue what on earth to do with it, but the grasp and gentle tug as your fingers close around it pulls a soft groan from him.  

He remains standing as you seat yourself on the edge of his bed, your hand running from the base to tip of him, tongue licking over the line of dark hair running down from his navel. A shy smile spreads across your mouth, tongue circling his navel, watching the way his hips tremble. You have him at your mercy, and the brand-new sensation of sexual power over him is a strong current that runs right through you.

“If you wanted to put your mouth where your hand is, I wouldn’t stop you,” he speaks, voice deepened a few octaves, that gravelled rasp making your cunt twitch.  

Humming a chuckle, you flicker a lick over the head of him, his breath catching in his throat. “I bet you wouldn’t.” Participation is learning, you figure, guiding that silky skin covered steel to your lips and closing them around the head, sucking gently, his knees almost buckling. A little more pressure has him panting, his hands tangling in your hair, pulling the combs that keep it in its neat updo free to tumble, groaning as he watches himself vanish in your mouth.  

“Fuck,” he grits, the cuss making your insides tighten pleasantly, “that’s so fucking good.” His praise spurs you, pausing to trail your tongue all over his hardness, your nails gently grazing his chest. You can feel his heart pounding hard, excitement that you are the one evoking such tingling over your bones as your eyes find his.  

“I love the way it feels in my mouth. It’s bloody beautiful. I’ve heard the girls at work call them ugly, but yours isn’t.” You praise, licking the head with a little flicker, his moans deepening so much, you do it again. Trembles wrack his muscles, goose pimples rising over his skin, his hips beginning to sway back and forth, cusses falling from his mouth upon every groan until he pulls away suddenly, pushing you back onto the bed. 

“Feels too good. Don't want to be spent before it’s even begun.” His lips meet yours, his body pinning you down into the bed, the heat of his skin wickedly beautiful as it presses to your nakedness. Hands and mouths wander, the exploration so shiny and new, flocks of butterflies blooming into flight in your belly, his mouth delivering keen kisses to your neck.  

You inhale a sharp breath to feel the heat of his mouth suck upon your nipple, Luca shifting off you a little, access to stroke your body granted as his hand lowers, your thighs parting. That first stroke through your folds causes the breath to hitch in your throat, his lips finding yours, both panting against the kisses you share. You almost feel shame at how wet you are, a little embarrassed at the keenness your body shows, but the way his fingers feel as they glide over the silky petals of your cunt quickly diminish that.  

He plays with you gently, each stroke lowering, a finger breaching you. You feel beautiful to him, slick and hot, heavenly upon the inside as your walls pulse upon his finger, adding a second, slowly pushing them back and forth. The pleasure of it darts hot beneath your skin, the sensation of a part of him within you, the intimacy of it, stroking his face as your hips buck up against his touch. On instinct, his fingers curl a little, and it sends lightning flickering up your spine, whimpering as he kisses your neck, his mouth descending as his body shifts down the bed.  

His eyes shine with arousal as he finally reaches your sex, his fingers replaced, steering a firm lick between your folds. You whimper, that first contact so good, your legs close tightly around his head. 

“Sorry,” you offer as he pushes them apart, Luca laughing quietly against the slick wet of you. 

“At least I know you like it.” There’s an upside to being clamped between two thighs, you suppose. Another lick gilds you, sends warmth rushing over your skin, especially when you feel his tongue nudge at your little bud, your back arching as you gasp. 

“There,” you pant, practically writhing before him. “Oh, right there!” 

He seeks it, the tip of his tongue snaking back and forth, smiling as your reaction delights his ears, those sweet moans and cries like celestial music. He can’t get enough of how you feel against his mouth, the taste of you intoxicating as he laves thirstily, sucking, kissing your tender nub, tongue flicking over you, your nails trawling his scalp as he gives you exactly what you crave. The nectar of your cunt floods his tongue, and it makes his heart skip a beat, the intimacy of it, how much it arouses him to have his mouth all over your most sacred of places, the noises it draws from you making his cock throb. 

“You taste beautiful.” he murmurs, arms winding beneath your thighs, gripping them, treating your aqueous slit to long, firm licks, evoking quivers that shiver you from head to toe. He grants no clemency from the hypnotic beat of his tongue over your bud, tasting your hot, pink folds with swirls and flickers as you gush onto his lips.

You twitch against each lick, every carefully administered circling of his hungry tongue, your hands gripping his slender shoulders, your hips keening against the utter glory of what his mouth conjures. He draws cusses from you as you pant, your body spasming so hard as he begins to suck your bud that you’re unsure if your response is of pulling away or shunting closer, crying out as you’re eaten with ruinous gusto.    

He’s certainly thriving on doing this, and lord, how it shows. 

He has you beginning to spark against each well-placed lick, his mouth making you tighten, your walls in full clench, only sated by the arrival of his fingers into your slick, raking firmly, a smile playing his lips as he watches you tremble.    

The heat of his mouth has you literally melting for him, Luca panting against your dewy folds as he assails your clit with firm circles, driving out pleasure from the very root of you, skittering through you as your hips purl and flex, the waves of your release washing over you ceaselessly, leaving you a panting, shaking wreck. So, that’s what it feels like to come for somebody. Goodness, it felt like absolutely nothing else you could ever compare it to.  

Pulling his head from between your legs, you fight for breath, your love leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses up your body until he’s claiming your lips once more. Reaching between you, he positions his cock at your still fluttering opening, nuzzling you sweetly, pushing until he slips in with ease.  

Your body tenses for a second, expecting pain. You’ve heard that the first time hurts, but you feel absolutely nothing even remotely close to discomfort at taking him inside you, stroking one another tenderly as you kiss, your mutual gaze so loving and fond.  

“Ahhh, fuck. You feel incredible,” he groans, stroking your face. “Does it feel okay? Not hurting you, am I, amore?”  

His care touches you deeply, running your fingers through his soft, dark hair. “No, you feel perfect. You and your beautiful cock.” you chirp, making him laugh softly, that chuckle turning into a groan as he pushes a little deeper, filling you. The warm pool of syrupy heat bathing his cock sends little shocks skittering through him, the feel unlike anything else, ecstasy raining comets to burn his blood as those same little hails of light flicker through you.  

It's a sensual, blooming rush of pleasure, your arms entwining one another, your bodies moving a little awkwardly together to begin with until the rise and fall is met with perfect sync, his mouth placing tender kisses at your neck. Every ridge of his cock scraping against your tender walls feels wickedly decadent, pleasure coiling tightly, his body quickening as you wrap your legs around his slender waist, nails digging into his back. 

“Oh my god, yes, fuck me!” you wail, clutching on around him as he pounds you into the bed, head lowering to suck your nipple with a deep, gritty groan. The heat of it burns like a furnace, that pleasure winding ever tighter as you feel yourself escalating, your nails grazing down his back as your spine-melting release rushes like a spring breeze over your nerves. It’s white hot and consuming, feeling his cock twitching as his teeth clamp on your nipple and he floods your cunt with cum, leaving you dizzy and panting.  

It feels like your entire body is a garden bursting into bloom beneath him, the sweetness of your release still tingling through you as you kiss him, feeling his cock gently twitching within the snug clasp of your sodden cunt. Oh, how you can barely wait to be his wife, and enjoy what you just did with him whenever you want to. You must admit, though, the fact that you shouldn’t have done it was half the fun of having sex with him in the first place.  

Still, nothing can take the sheen of it away. That sheen lasts right up until your wedding day, hardly able to wait until he carries you across the threshold of your new home, placing you down in the lounge.  

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he sighs against your neck, unfastening your wedding gown. 

You can’t help a little sarcasm. “Oh yes, those three weeks truly were an eternity, weren’t they?” 

“Shut up,” he chides, slapping your bum. “Of course, they were. I knew how good what I had waiting for me was.” 

It’s even better the second time around.  

[jackalhadrurusluvr]

“ok last week sucked total ass but this weeks gonna be ok” (my cat gets out because someone left the door open) (i know for a fact it was not me!!! because i was putting groceries away by the time everyone else got in the house!!!!!!)

update he came home everyone cheer goodnight.

[vacantgodling]

✨preferences should not be standards for writing advice✨

[dallonwrites]

actually making my tags from my last post into their own post. writers who struggle with grammar, spelling, typos, errors etc i love you. writers who struggle with rereading their stuff thoroughly no matter how much they try, who don't always have access to other people to help them read i love you. whilst reading through and checking for these things is good practice i really believe that the weight of it should not be put wholly on the writer's shoulders. especially writers who are neurodivergent, disabled, have any condition that can impede their reading + comprehension, are overworked and overtired, are not writing in their native language, list goes on....because grammar mistakes/language mistakes/typos have nothing to do with your abilities as a creative. this is where editors should be uplifting writers, helping them, not scrutinising them for something they cannot always control

[undefeatablesin]

You know what? Fuck you. *Bloodbornes your Pinnochio again*

[izzyspussy]

i think a lot of people have never been in a truly desperate situation but think they have, and this causes them to pass really harsh judgment on people who made bad choices when either irrational or having no good choices to pick instead, and i really wish people could get some fucking self-perception and work on their compassion skills and not fucking do that as much anymore