#informative💋

[salemlunaa]

✰THE “I AM” STATE: do you understand? ✰

let’s clear things up!! a revamped logical, explanation to the void state

a lot of you are “failing” to induce pure consciousness because you don’t understand.

If you feel like you need a routine to shift/tap into the “I AM state”, you don’t properly understand what it is

If you feel like you need a good “mental diet”, you don’t properly understand what it is.

If any doubt has creeped into your mind about the void/“I AM” state, you definitely don’t properly understand what it is.

If you feel like you need a method, you don’t property understand what it is.

If you feel as if you MUST stay still, you don’t properly understand what it is.

And if you compare your story to others, you don’t properly understand what it is.

The void state is a deep mental space where you let go of thoughts, emotions, and any sense of “you” as a person, almost like floating in a blank, quiet space. In this state, your brain shifts to slower frequencies, like theta waves, which are linked to creativity and openness in the subconscious. With the conscious mind quiet, your subconscious is more receptive, so any intentions you set can bypass mental barriers like doubt and self-limiting beliefs. People often reach this state through meditation or deep relaxation, opening a space where you can set intentions that stick. This isn’t magic—it’s a psychological and neurological process that aligns your subconscious with what you want to achieve, making you more likely to act in ways that bring those desires into reality.

So you see, it’s literally just a state where all your intentions can come into fruition without the barriers of the 3d. It’s not some magical thing where your soul lifts to some higher places and a genie grants all your wishes. It’s just pure consciousness.

So you don’t need a routine for something effortless. You don’t need to have a “good void concept” or a “good mental diet” to do a basic ability. You don’t need an elaborate ten step method to induce pure consciousness. You don’t need to be a productive manifestor who has a routine where you repeat the same affirmations till your brain goes numb, where you listen to the same subliminals over and over and over. It’s not something you need to do. Not for something as easy as breathing, not for something that is in your fucking brain. You can have the worst day with the worst thoughts and still induce pure consciousness. Because it’s not something you need to mentally prepare for, it was never and is never that deep. Doubting that just shows you don’t truly understand what you’re dealing with.

Having doubts means you don’t truly understand. why? because it’s not something you get to doubt. It’s not some belief that can be speculated against, some superstition that can be proven wrong or some conspiracy theory that can be debunked. It’s a basic ability, it’s law, something that is law cannot fail, no matter how much you want to convince yourself, it’s just not possible for it to fail. Why wouldn’t you doubt that humans have the ability to breathe, because it’s not that deep, it’s not something that you speculate on or something you get suspicious of, because its nothing, just like the void.

There are people who fell asleep in an apartment and woke up in a penthouse, there are people who went to bed with nothing in their wallet and woke up a billionaire. There are people who went to sleep hating their family, the way they look, where they live and woke up with all of that changed. And why? because they induced a state where their intentions can come to life with out any limitations.

You can do it, and i’m not saying that to be sappy and motivational, im saying that because it’s a fact that it’s a basic thing that you can do.

It’s just pure consciousness, nothing too serious 🤭💋

[cyber333angel]

https://www.tumblr.com/cyber333angel/767070350414659584/aaron-taylor-johnson-at-the-emas-has-me-feeling-so

can we talk about granny bc wtf

YES I don’t like that ho!! she’s weird and a groomer bc she knew him since he was growing up and then married him when he was like 18 like it’s very weird and nasty report her to the authorities immediately

[ashsostrange]

BRO IT'S BEEN 4 DAYS, 4 DAYS

AND I MISS CHESS SMMMM

k babe get a diary or tell her when she comes back cz i can’t help you 😭 she’s on a break..

[starpros-sunshine]

in europe. . . i'm scared... i didnt know lidl was real i thought it was a fake eldritch abomination store

BLAKE IN EUROPE REAL?!?!

But yes!!! Lidl is real!!! Lidl is real and fairing quite well in the battle of the discounters. Personally I'm a Lidl shopper myself (the milk has a good texture the milk from other stores is always a bit,,,,hm. Im sceptic. But maybe that's a mind thing.)

[grabby-smitten]

Concrete Jungle: King of the beasts

Summary: Buying a hybrid was not what you had in mind when you asked for independence. Sylus didn’t like humans but his owner was the exception.

Subjects: Albino lion Hybrid!Sylus x F!Reader

Word count: 4.1k+

Content Warnings: Hybrid AU, smut, owner reader, kissing, cunnilingus, P in V, breeding, cnc if u squint really hard, biting, textured tongue. Use of words like predator/prey, cunt, pussy, kitten. Not edited and no beta.

A.N: I learned that big cats can’t purr and I was so disappointed. Oh, well….ah! I might do one for each li. k bye 💋

“Are you sure, I need one?” You’ve asked your parents that question for the umpteenth time.

“Yes, a hybrid is a good caretaker and it would make us feel better knowing one is protecting you.” Your father answered with a tired smile, understanding your uneasiness but they weren’t going to change their mind.

Moving out and finally becoming independent was just one step away from happening. Your parents were against it at first. Coming from money means someone will always be after your trail, danger and they had overprotected you, their only daughter since… well, even before you were born. They weren’t able to have natural children so you were conceived through artificial methods. Which, according to your parents, was a whole ordeal and suffering. Details that you rather not know.

It was time, though, to deep your toes into a world of your own. You wanted freedom for once. No dozens of bodyguards, no tracking devices and no fear of the unknown.

The part of convincing your parents was hard. No, after no, after no. Until, the head of security, taking pity on you, suggested buying a hybrid for you. Not just any hybrid; one specially made to protect and serve.

Now it was your turn to profoundly refuse. Everyone had one and those who didn’t, desired one… like some kind of accessory. It sickened you and besides, you didn’t want another responsibility. You wanted your own life! Not taking care of some… dog? Cat? Fish?

In the end, you had no other choice but to agree and here you were, in some facility. Breeding facility? Training? You didn’t care enough to pay attention, honestly.

Walking behind your parents in an all-white hall, smelling like antiseptic and gagging at the chemical sensation in your throat, you started to notice how the white walls began to turn into cages. Placards hung in the walls near the tinted glass and steel bars of the cages with descriptions of the… hybrids?

Looking up from the labels, you finally realized you no longer were alone. Each cell was occupied by humanoid-shaped shadows. The tint of the reinforced glass obstructed your vision but it was clear they were there.

So lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize a couple of strangers had joined your family. Paying a bit more attention to their chatter, you concluded they were doctors or scientists from this facility. They were explaining something about their products and that it was the best the market could offer. You frowned at their words. It was like you were buying a car… they even explained the insurance policy.

“And this specimen, right here, is our finest hybrid!” One of the men talking to your parents loudly explained.

You stepped closer to the placard and read the few words it contained. ‘Albino Lion Hybrid (Panthera leo Hybrid, large cat family Felidae). Apex predator (no natural enemy known). Renowned king of the beasts. More active at night. Preferable habitats: grassland, dense scrub, savanna, and open woodland. Nomadic male.’

Your eyes widened once your brain processed the information. This was no guard dog or house cat. Before you could utter a complaint about how obnoxious this all was, the tinted glass cleared and you were looking straight into a pair of scarlet eyes.

Sylus almost laughed at the face of the female standing outside his cell. The little mouse seemed in shock to see him there. What was she expecting? Where else would he be? If not caged and on display here— absurd, he thought. All humans that came here, came for one thing and one thing only; to purchase a wild species, a unique breed to flaunt to their peers. Sylus continuously thought about how weird these humans behaved in society. Their hierarchy dynamics were messed up and he despised that.

You felt his eyes mocking you, such deep red and the only thing you could feel was irritation. Frowning, you turned your head and left him. See how he likes grouching on his own.

Once you were a few steps away, the scientists or doctors stared at the red-eyed big cat hybrid with wonder and… respect? This place was bonkers, you thought to yourself.

“So this is the one?” Your mother asked and marveled at the sight of the lion hybrid. White-silver hair, large, powerful presence, and sharp features.

“Yes, ma’am. Our best subject. Well trained in all the aspects you requested and fairly knowledgeable which is hard to come by with these beats.”

Hearing all that gave you stomach reflux, the acidity burning your esophagus. Your dam was about to break and all your pent-up feelings would end up costing you your freedom if it wasn’t for the red-eyed hybrid. He knocked on the glass and you jumped, startled. You were surprised, he even beckoned you with a finger and again, surprised now with yourself, you automatically obeyed.

It was like a trance. A hypnotic daze of sorts. Both met face to face once again, only separated by the reinforced glass. For a moment you were distracted, the outburst you were about to have laid dormant in the back of your head.

What is this…? Sylus couldn’t help but feel a sense of familiarity. That’s why he was so close to the glass earlier too. He couldn’t see the other side a while ago but something was pulling him there. The whole day he felt restless and on guard as if something resonated within him.

Could this be—

“Ah! Marvelous! Look! They are already interested in each other! Sylus is not showing any signs of hostility or repulsion…” a different scientist exclaimed with eagerness, interrupting whatever connection you had with Sylus at that moment.

Not many words were needed to convince your parents after that show you and Sylus put up. Papers were signed, money transferred and a very confused Sylus was sedated and prepared for shipment.

The big city. Polluted air, noisy streets twenty-four hours a day, and hybrids everywhere. Most people carried one; a human with some animal characteristics, and now you were one of them too. Sylus was scheduled to arrive in a few minutes. All the things you would need to care for him were already in your apartment and even his paperwork. Name, birth, permits and you; listed as his owner.

The melodic tune of your ring bell announced the dreaded moment. You knew Sylus would be escorted here and that most of the traveling time he would have been sedated, but still the long distance between your new home and the facility he was kept in was almost six hours away. You feared a big grumpy cat.

Oh boy… grumpy was an understatement. He didn’t look happy. The moment he stepped foot in and all the straps holding him were taken off, he waited for the delivery people to disappear and he pounced. Surprisingly not on you. He went through all your stuff. According to the guide you received he was scenting. He went through your whole house; rubbing, scratching and overall making a mess.

“Stop! Hey, hmm… Sylus? You don’t have to scent my clothes.” You tried talking to him but he was not interested in your opinion, apparently. He just glanced at you and kept doing whatever he was doing before, like you were the one, not understanding. You had to snatch your underwear from his closed fist in a panic.

He went nonverbal for a week. A week! You were going insane. Yes, he obeyed. Yes, he was extremely independent and didn’t cause any more commotion besides the panty situation on the first day. But God… he was extremely quiet. It wasn’t until you commanded him to that you realized you should have read the manual until the last page; not only the summary.

“Sylus! Say something!” You demanded; going insane was not in your plans for the foreseeable future. They never told you he was mute or anything of that nature.

“Is there anything you need from me, my lady?” His deep and slow voice had your heart leaping out from your chest.

You just stood there, gaping and looking at him like you couldn’t believe he was able to make a sound. Yeah, not even his steps produced sounds. Sylus examined his human with a gleam of humor in his sapphire eyes. This face was a common one for her and he found it… almost endearing. It reminded him of the first time you two met.

“You can talk…” you whispered low and saw how his fluffy round, and white ears twitched. “You can talk!” Again, you exclaimed, pointing a finger at him in disbelief. “Why haven’t you said anything before?!”

“I wasn’t allowed to,” he calmly explained. That mischievous twinkle in his eyes never left, “my owner never requested me to do so until now.”

And that’s how you spend almost three days reading the darn manuals with a now very talkative feline.

You found that Sylus was more than just a pet. He could cook, clean and even force you to exercise which ended up backfiring. You couldn’t keep up with his supposedly healthy routine. A healthy lifestyle means a happy owner, and you would curse under your breath every time he repeated it.

In general, you were happy, he seemed happy and living with him was easier than you thought. Quickly, you two began to build a bond and it was a matter of time before he began to realize why it had been so easy to adapt to this human. His human which is how he referred to you.

Following the manual, you always made sure to have everything Sylus would need. Even his heats. At first, you tried to get him a heat partner and it was a mess. More like you were a mess. Even Sylus was surprised at how you ended up kicking out the poor rental gazelle hybrid in less than five minutes. You didn’t understand what took over you to be so… overprotective.

Oh, but Sylus was not complaining. Watching you almost declare war in his name gave him a deep satisfaction. So much so that he accepted to take suppressants for the time being.

After that incident, things began to change drastically. Sylus in return became a bit more aggressive towards any living creature that was in less than a mile radius of you. Growling, pushing, and even wrapping you with his tail and pulling you towards his body anytime he felt you were in danger. Yeah, you were in so much danger from the tube man… that air dancing balloon from the car wash a couple of blocks away.

“It can be that bad…” you took hold of his arm around your waist in a reassuring manner.

He’s been walking with you in his hold since you crossed paths with the inflatable dancing man.

“It has erratic movements. You never know what he might do next.”

Yeah, it was a recurring situation.

Yeah, he was prepared for everything and anything. Well, except one morning when his nose woke him up.

A sweet intoxicating scent traveled through his nostrils and shook him awake. He felt his mouth water, his canines aching, and his eyes turning into thin lines. The predator in him had been disturbed and its awakening meant trouble.

In all his years in captivity, he had never felt such hunger. Something was clawing in his chest, desperate to come out, each intake of air was pulling his sanity deeper and deeper while the monster surfaced.

Like any good hunter, he let his nose guide him through the house. Following such an intoxicating aroma took him to your door. There he stood—elaborated breathing, sharp fingers encrusted on his palms searching for restrain. You were inside; sleeping soundly in the early hours of the morning. He could hear your soft breathing mixing with his wildly beating heart. Knowing you weren’t aware of the predator outside your door sent a jolt of excitement through his body. Easy prey.

Was it you? Were you the one producing such… inebriant aroma? Why?

He took the handle with a death grip, his rational side fighting against instinct. He felt the urge to hunt, pursue, chase… this… this aroma and make it his own. With an internal battle raging inside him, Sylus felt the door weighed heavy on his palm, the handle burned, but he still stepped in.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness in the room, it made no difference to him that you slept in complete darkness; his ruby-red eyes could see just fine. Then, his gaze focused on your sleeping form, little movement from your steady breathing and you had no idea that a hungry predator stood at the foot of your bed.

But Sylus didn’t move, didn’t pounce on you like he wanted. Torn between instinct and duty, he was frozen in place, sweating and overwhelmed with indecision. Your scent was clouding his every sense, making it even more difficult to do the right thing. It was like time had stopped and the only thing on his mind was the palpitations in his groin for even letting his skin touch the hair surrounding you.

What was the right thing? He asked himself. Neck—cracking as his body suddenly shuddered in pain, Sylus was holding himself back by a fine thread.

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. You were not like his kind who would accept mating just because of a sudden heat. You were human and he had that fact ingrained into his mind. With a whimper of pain and trepidation, Sylus walked over to the side of your bed; every step was excruciating for the hybrid. Once he reached the edge, he did like every other night shared with you. Sylus, silently whining, laid beside you and wrapped his arms tightly, but this time he kept a generous distance between his hips and your back.

He was not a mindless beast. Not to you.

“Sylus… I can’t breathe…” you don’t know when, you don’t know how, but Sylus always ended up sleeping on top of you like a weighted blanket. “Sylus!”

“You don’t wanna know what I did to the last person who woke me up.” Each word came with a little slur at the end, he was barely waking up. No a second goes by and you felt his spiked tongue grooming the nape of your neck and soft growls shaking your whole body.

“Someone’s happy today, hmmm?” You asked in a short breath, reaching for his round and fluffy ear. As you scratched, you heard the deep grumbles of satisfaction increasing.

“Smells good…”

You felt him sniffing all over your chest, deeply inhaling, moving his head downwards. Sylus pulled your covers in a hasty manner and kept descending. Your eyes widened as you realized where he was going and your feet quickly stopped him; placing them on his shoulder and chest.

“Sy-Sylus! S-stop!” Your hands joined your legs and feet, placing your palms on his mouth and the rest of his face. “What do you—“

You stopped mid question as you felt a bit of moisture in between your legs. In a panic, your mind counted the weeks since you moved in and you have forgotten to make an appointment for your birth control replacement… which meant you must be ovulating. How could you forget? It’s been weeks! With everything happening after moving, getting Sylus and adapting to the new city. You had completely forgotten…

A muffled sound came from behind your palm and then a rough tongue pushed against your skin. You slowly retracted your arm, looking at him with apologetic eyes. It was your fault, after all.

“I was saying that you seem to be in need of assistance,” he uttered, arching an eyebrow at your saddened face.

His heavy body was pressing against the sole of your feet, your legs kept him at bay and it surprised you how… physically insistent he was being.

“What do you mean?” You quickly replied, feigning ignorance and he seemed to know your every trick because his first reaction was to give you one of those salacious smiles of his.

“You can’t exactly lie to my nose, kitten.” He almost growled every word, sending shivers through your body. “You’re fertile.”

Before you could even utter a word to contradict his truth, his hands brushed the back of your raised legs for then his fingers gently tapped your skin. You let out a squeak of surprise and swiftly moved your legs, thus giving him an opportunity to nestle in between your thighs.

“If you’re making fun of me, it’s not funny,” you rebuked, but even as you said that the pressure and sudden ache in your lower regions began to increase with the proximity and weight of Sylus.

“I’m not.” He chuckled and it reverberated down your tummy, sending deep palpitations through your core, “you didn’t read the whole manual yet, now did you?” His finger gently tugged your chin, making you stare right into his crimson orbs.

“No…” you sheepishly mumbled, embarrassed of being found again and your lack of knowledge about some stuff still in the encyclopedia-like book you were given.

“Give me the order and I will deliver, Kitten.” He whispered, eyes calling for your surrender. Sylus was pushing the right buttons by being so close, touching you, and having you cornered right where he wanted you.

“You mean…” voicing your hesitation didn’t deter him from destroying your inhibitions, brick by brick. His eyes were hypnotizing, he would give you anything you wanted and you knew you would be safe, right?

He had you caged between his body and the bed, your mind going a mile per second and your heart racing just as fast. No, he wasn’t moving an inch more and you knew he wouldn’t unless you said so.

“Okay…” you sighed finally removing a burden from your shoulders, “h-help me.” You wanted him to alleviate your aching.

“As you wish, Kitten.”

Not soon had those words left his lips, he was on you. You felt the heaviness of the impact of his lips on you. He had seemed calm while talking but his actions spoke differently. Sylus’ kiss was demanding, fiery even. His tongue took no time to slip in between your abused lips, delivering tentative licks to yours; as if tasting and enjoying you.

He kept his low throaty snarls flowing over your body, crushing you against the sheets. You could taste him too, wild, intense, so Sylus. Two bodies lay in the bed, limbs intertwined. Sylus hands traveled up your body, fingers gripping at anything he could find, your moans being greedily swallowed.

His tail kept a steady thumping behind him, lulling you deeper into his embrace. You would let him do anything, be anything if it meant this fire ignited in your chest would never cease to exist.

Sylus grasped the back of your head, fisting strands of your hair for him to pull back and expose your neck to his aching teeth. He felt euphoria ran through his veins as soon as his pearl whites connected with your tender skin. A growl and the stinging stab on your neck made you gasp, hands gripping his collar to bring him even closer as if that was possible.

In a hurry, his other hand began to tear away your pajamas as his teeth continued to gnaw almost painfully at your throat.

In a blink of an eye, you were lifted and bent. Your face harshly met the warmth of pillows. Gone were your clothes. In what moment exactly? You don’t recall and you didn’t really care at that moment.

“I knew it– fuck– the moment I saw you, I knew it.” Sylus rasped out, breath suddenly hitting your nude backside. “This was mine before you even knew it.”

He suddenly lifted your hips, exposing your dripping core to his crimson gaze. You whimpered as the cold hair hit you, hands gripping the bedsheets, and that’s all you could see. Your own fist and abundant white.

“Sy-Sylus!” You shrieked.

Your exposed pussy was invaded by his mouth, and a low vibrating sound joined. His bumpy tongue lapped eagerly, the texture making you mewl and tremble as you unconsciously tried to pull away. Now the chuffing sound changed to a growl of displeasure, his hands quickly moved to your lower tummy and pressed you back against his awaiting lips.

A mess, a wet and sloppy mess. That’s what Sylus was, still holding your body against his face. He couldn’t care less about anything other than your flavor and sounds overtaking his entire being. He slurped, nipped and spit back in just to repeat it all over again.

It took no time to have you trashing and shaking on his grip, cuming on his face, the chuffing sounds intensifying with your moaning.

Skin on skin, no clothes separating him from you, you didn’t register when he freed his body of them. Too lost to care, too much at once to have a sense of anything other than Sylus.

“You take me so well… My kitten—made for me…” he growled as he slipped every inch of him. Your warm walls protested at the intrusion as he mounted you.

Pinning you down, chest pressed against your back and your face shoved into your drool-stained pillows.

“If you keep struggling, kitten… I– fuck, fuck– you’re making it really hard to hold back” he groaned as his eyes zoomed in on your head trashing and shaking. The predator in him just looming around the corner, his female ready for the taking.

“It’s too big!” Your scream was muffled by the pillow. As your wailing reached his ears, his cock throbbed and released a few ropes of white.

“You’re being so good, kitten. Just a… bit longer…” Sylus sighed with pleasure as the creaminess made it easier to thrust into you. Incessantly, hitting that spongy spot, making you cry out as you felt more burning cum filling you up. Both breathless, both panting and an arrange of noises filled the room.

“I feel so full! Sylus! I can’t!” Tears streamed down your face at how bloated you felt, but he kept pushing and bursting inside you. One after the other; face down you had no other option but to take it.

“Not full enough— you need more…” hips slamming into you, the squelching sound of your insides consuming the silence— him bottoming out again and again. “My cunt… will only have my cubs…”

You’re not sure how long it was, you were in and out. Lost a daze, being shoved, pressed and pounded mercilessly… Sylus voice swirled through your mushy brain— satisfaction, and ecstasy running wild through both of your bodies.

Blinking once, twice. You felt heavy and your foggy vision wasn’t helping. You still felt the aftermath of it all. Legs sporadically spamming, lower tummy so heavy and sore.

“You… came so much…” you whispered in between breaths. His cum was dripping from your tender hole, rapidly pooling on the bed. “Why?”

He shrugged, as he caressed your cheek.

“A lion’s thing,” he mumbled softly, pulling you closer and gently holding you.

The rest of the day you were spent. Too exhausted to do anything else. Sylus bathed you, changed the bedding, brought you drinks and food, and gave you the darn manual to finish it for once.

“Sylus!” You slapped his naked chest with indignation. “Here,” you pointed to an article you highlighted, “it says that lion hybrids can copulate for two to three days? Two hundred times in succession? Are you insane?” That explains a lot.

“I am just waiting for you to rest, humans are more delicate than I thought. We’re not moving from this room.” He deadpanned.

Your expression fell as his eyes seemed to show how serious he was being.

“I read that lionesses bite the male’s ballsack when they are upset or something,” you grinned wickedly. “I will do that if you don’t behave!”

“I wouldn’t oppose, sweetie.” He goaded. Your smile slowly faded as your threat was not working as planned. “So… I see you are feeling more… energetic.”

You threw a pillow at him before he pounced on you.

Ah, yes… a gentle protector a trusted guardian, but a beast on the sheets.

[purple-plum-petals]

Homicipher request for the Homicipher starved fans pls? 🥺 Is it okay to ask for the reactions of Mr. Silvair, Mr. Chopped(as he gets wheeled past us on a cart after being kidnapped, again), Mr. Gap, Mr. Machete, and Mr. Scarletella with a reader who winks and blows a kiss as they pass by them? Like for some reason reader seems to be in a really good mood and they're skipping around with their trusty crowbar in hand then they see one of the boys then mwa~💋. I can imagine that they'd be confused at the unfamiliar gesture but I'd like to get your thoughts on it. 😂

⊱ Homicipher Characters’ Reactions to MC Winking at Them and Blowing Them a Kiss ⊰ || Multiple Character Headcanons

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Character(s): Mr. Silvair, Mr. Chopped, Mr. Gap, Mr. Machete, and Mr. Scarletella (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (MC’s Lore), Brief Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (Mr. Machete’s Part), Canon-typical Horror Elements (Mr. Gap and Mr. Scarletella's Parts), Cultural Barriers (None of Them Understand the Gesture). Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Platonic or Romantic Relationship Word Count: ~1,880 Request: “Homicipher request for the Homicipher starved fans pls? 🥺 Is it okay to ask for the reactions of Mr. Silvair, Mr. Chopped(as he gets wheeled past us on a cart after being kidnapped, again), Mr. Gap, Mr. Machete, and Mr. Scarletella with a reader who winks and blows a kiss as they pass by them? Like for some reason reader seems to be in a really good mood and they're skipping around with their trusty crowbar in hand then they see one of the boys then mwa~💋. I can imagine that they'd be confused at the unfamiliar gesture but I'd like to get your thoughts on it. 😂” Author’s Note: They all would definitely be confused by the unfamiliar gesture, so I kind of did headcanons about how each of them would react to you blowing them a kiss/how they would go about trying to understand what the gesture meant by using context clues (or just straight-up asking you about it haha). Sorry if they’re not great! I’m still trying to figure out how I want to balance the characters’ personalities as they are in canon while adding some more fun/whimsical aspects of your ask.

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

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💉: He smiles softly at your cheerful demeanor, yet it falters slightly when you press the tips of your fingers to your lips and squeeze one of your eyes shut in response to him looking in your direction. You remove your fingers from your pursed lips and blow out a puff of air before continuing in the direction you had been walking towards. While he could infer you were in a good mood by your body language, he was curious to know what exactly the gesture meant. 

💉: Instead of lightly treading the question or observing you for any longer to see if he could figure out what the gesture meant by using context clues, Mr. Silvair instead just asks you directly to get an answer as soon as possible the next time he sees you. He deeply enjoyed research and observation, yes, but there was no need to wait to gather information when you were a perfect source of it. 

💉: Of course, it wasn’t easy to explain what “blowing a kiss” was, especially since they didn’t even have equivalent words in their language for “blow” or “kiss,” but you tried your best with what you had to work with. It’s almost funny how earnestly Mr. Silvair is hanging onto every word you speak. He chuckles after you finish explaining, amused by the gesture and its meaning – how quaint, he thinks to himself. 

💉: He found humans to be fascinating and their diverse cultures even more so, so he was of course interested in learning whatever you were able to recall from your previous life in your old realm before you ended up in this one. He treats everything you tell him with an air of respect, and he even documents what you share with him so he (and you) never forget that part of yourself. 

💉: Mr. Silvair finds the gesture to be an entertaining one, but deducts that it’s not usually one humans do with strangers or those they are not comfortable with from your explanation. Does that mean you are comfortable enough around him to express yourself in that manner? How fascinating... Do you care to tell him why you feel the way you do toward him? He’s very much interested in learning the reasoning behind your thought processes. 

🗣️: Mr. Chopped smiles so widely when he sees you in such a chipper mood, making your way down the hall with a noticeable spring in your step. He likes seeing you happy, so it makes him feel good, too, watching you skip by with such a bright expression on your face! Then, you press your hand to your lips and wink, blowing something he couldn’t see in his direction, and suddenly he’s confused. 

🗣️: Huh… well, that was strange. For some reason, though, the playful gesture seemed almost familiar, yet he couldn’t remember why. He can’t exactly chase after you and ask what that meant, so he’d have to wait until the next time he saw you (which he hoped wouldn't be a long wait – he liked spending time with you). 

🗣️: The next time he saw you, he asked if you could explain what the gesture meant. You did the best you could, but you’re pretty sure he comprehended what you were telling him if the giddy expression on his face was anything to go by. His excitement was quite adorable. However, his expression suddenly falls, and you watch him begin to sulk. How was he supposed to blow you a kiss in return? He didn’t have a body!! The poor man is so distraught. 

🗣️: He gets either Mr. Silvair to help him out or Mr. Hand to, well… give him a hand to enact his plan. The next time you see him, he calls out to you with such a delighted look on his face. So, you make your way over to him and kneel down to his level, watching as the sentient hand comes up to Mr. Chopped’s lips, making the same gesture you did, before he blows you a kiss and winks. He did it! He blew you a kiss!! 

🗣️: Mr. Chopped is very proud of himself and the pleased expression on his face is far too charming for you. He feels a warmth in his metaphorical chest knowing that you felt comfortable enough with him to blow him a kiss, especially since it seems like something humans do with those they are most comfortable with. 

🕳️: He’s honestly somewhat impressed you knew he was there, observing you through the small hole in the wall while you walk around like you’re on top of the world. He can’t help but wonder what happened that has you so chipper, but his thoughts are derailed a bit when you press your hand to your mouth and blow something at him, closing one of your eyes as you do so… What the hell was that?? 

🕳️: He feels somewhat offended, honestly, and gets that semi-disgusted look on his face before disappearing into the darkness. Mr. Gap understands it’s some kind of weird human gesture, but he can’t really put two-and-two together about what it means. Though, he finds himself continuing to watch you from any nook-and-cranny he could find, observing you to see if you would do the gesture again – you don’t.

🕳️: Mr. Gap ends up startling you while you’re walking down a long, grimy hallway, his hand darting out from a vent to grab your ankle. His grip isn’t tight, but it most certainly scares the life out of you and effectively catches your attention. He finds your scare amusing but ends up cutting straight to the point and asks you why you blew something at him. 

🕳️: Even after explaining what the gesture meant, Mr. Gap still doesn’t fully understand why you did it, so you just tell him it was supposed to be a nice gesture that showed you enjoyed him – playful. That is something he does understand, and it’s almost amusing how the smirk on his face grew. He must be special, he thinks, and his smugness is radiating from his face peeking out of the darkness. 

🕳️: Mr. Gap doesn’t do the gesture back, but he strangely enough finds himself hoping you don’t blow anyone else your kisses. He doesn’t know why the thought of you sharing the gesture with another annoys him a little bit – after all, it wouldn’t make it special anymore if you did it with everyone. He even begins bringing you things, like more crowbars or even pieces of candy he finds lying around. It’s almost like he’s trying to bribe you…

🔪: He sees you happily skipping around and finds himself having to do a double-take at the strange sight. It wasn’t a bad sight, not at all, it was just weird seeing you so bright and lively. However, his mind buffers a bit when you look at him, pursing your lips and giving him a wink before your fingertips press to your mouth and then flick towards him. 

🔪: Mr. Machete is immediately annoyed, not knowing what the gesture meant, and he assumes you were trying to pick a fight with him. So, he takes his large sword and reels it back, throwing it at you with a strength that still had your eyes boggling. You duck with a yelp as the sword implants itself into the wall behind you. 

🔪: He makes his way over to you with incredible speed, blocking your body between his and the wall as he looks down at you, his head tilted to the side as he asks you if you wanted to fight him. Mr. Machete finds your frustrated expression endearing as you tell him the gesture was meant to be playful and fun. He’s low-key kind of disappointed you didn’t want to fight, but he steps away from you after your explanation without another word. 

🔪: However, while looking down at your angry expression, Mr. Machete suddenly has the urge to squeeze you (I imagine he experiences cuteness aggression regarding you). So, he reaches down and squeezes your cheeks between his large and calloused hand, causing your lips to purse. Even though you hadn’t been in the mood to fight him, now you were. He smirks widely as you two begin to spar all because he misconstrued what your gesture meant. 

🔪: Mr. Machete doesn’t see the point of blowing kisses, and he doesn’t feel any particular way about the gesture. It’s kind of whatever for him, even though he does notice that you don’t seem to do it with anyone else. After the first time (that ended up leading to a spar), though, he notices you hadn’t blown him another kiss since… He ends up coming up to tell you in his gruff, almost rude way, that he wouldn’t mind if you did it again. 

🩸: He tilts his head to the side at the gesture, his shaggy red hair swaying with the movement. Well… that was new, he thinks. He liked you quite a bit (far more than just a bit, really… my man is kind of obsessed with you), and he had been following you throughout your entire journey in this realm, yet he had never once seen that expression or gesture from you before. Now, he was curious to know what it meant, and he was going to try and figure it out one way or another.  

🩸: He continues to keep his eye on you, following you as you go about your day. Mr. Scarletella likes seeing you so chipper and full of life, especially considering you were someone who tended to take life from others. The dichotomy between your behavior and actions had his heart racing. However, despite what he expected, you never did the gesture again. So, he couldn’t gather information by observing you – he would need to simply ask you directly, then. 

🩸: Mr. Scarletella effectively manages to corner you after some time, catching you completely off-guard. While you two had certainly started off on the wrong foot, you had gotten to the point where you were relatively calm and comfortable around the strange man who was so incredibly down bad for you. He gazes down at you with his lifeless eyes, inquiring about the gesture you made earlier. 

🩸: You explain to him what the gesture meant for you, that you were simply in a good mood and felt a little bit playful at the moment when you blew him a kiss. Mr. Scarletella smiles at your words, feeling very pleased with the information. So, it meant you liked him, correct? It meant you felt comfortable enough to express your happiness towards him in such a way, right?

🩸: Well, you inadvertently ended up making him even more obsessed with you, and now his feelings become even stronger every time you blow him a kiss. Mr. Scarletella finds the act an interesting way to express your interest and enjoyment of another being, so he begins to blow you his own kisses in return. He is one of the characters I feel would want to learn more about human customs to deepen his relationship with you even if he doesn’t fully grasp why some gestures mean certain things. 

[trashytracktales]

GIRL DONT HOLD BACK

WRITE THE LANDO NORRIS HELMET SMUT

Finders keepers | LN⁴

🟢 summary ──── A moment of boredom turns into a game of control and restraint, with Lando pushing boundaries neither he nor his girlfriend expected on such a busy day.

🟢 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

🟢 rating ──── explicit

🟢 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, smut, swearing, semi-public setting, soft!dom Lando, fingering & oral ─ (f)receiving, unprotected sex, overstimulation, messy finish, Lando low-key losing it.

🟢 word count ──── 3.3k

🟢 date ──── Mar. 4, 2025

🟢 a/n ──── This one has been HIGHLY requested after one of you guys sent in this ask, so I shall deliver. I hope you enjoy it as much as you imagined & can’t wait to hear your thoughts 🤍

Also, yes. This is the second one-shot of the day, because I ACCIDENTALLY posted this Charles Leclerc piece earlier. It’s very short and I was supposed to post it after this one OOPSIES get greedy & go check it out. Thank you, love you all 💋

THERE IS HARDLY enough room for more than two people in the driver’s room. A physio table is pushed against the wall, a couple of chairs sit tucked under a desk covered in notes, post-its and water bottles, and a row of plastic shelves is holding some race suits, a change of clothes and toiletries, and a spare helmet. There is a faint scent of fresh rubber and overall newness of the place in the air that blends with the smell of rain, and something so distinctly Lando, a mix of his cologne and fabric softener.

She has been waiting for hours now. Day two of testing in Bahrain is dragging, and even though she loves watching her boyfriend hit the track, the long hours spent doing nothing are starting to wear on her. She finished reading three books in two days, rewatched her favorite TV show, and scrolled through her feed until the app informed her that there were no new posts.

She sighs, running a hand over the edge of the desk before deciding to tidy up a little. Not that there’s much to clean, since McLaren keeps these rooms nearly spotless, but at least it gives her something to do. A few minutes later, the post-its are arranged on the wall by color, the documents are organized in chronological order, and the water bottles have found a new home, crammed under the table.

Out of curiosity, her fingers brush over one of Lando’s new helmets, freshly designed for the pre-season testing. It’s sleek, predominantly black with neon streaks and intricate models running along the sides. On impulse, she lifts it, feeling its surprising weight before slipping it over her head. The padding presses snugly against her ears, muffling the distant sounds of mechanics still at work in the garage.

She can’t help but feel a vague claustrophobia surrounding her, but the feeling isn’t necessarily bad. On the contrary, it gives her the impression of safety, even if it inhibits her other senses.

Grinning to herself, she pulls out her phone and angles the camera for a selfie. The reflection in the visor catches the glow of the overhead lights, giving her an futuristic look. She continues to snap a few more photos, adjusting the tilt of her head, until a blurred figure appears in the background of her screen.

“Having fun all by yourself?” Lando’s voice is amused yet he sounds tired, and before she can turn around, she feels his arms wrap around her waist from behind. He leans in, lips ghosting over her shoulder in a lazy kiss.

She huffs out a laugh, nudging at his arms, “I told you to stop sneaking up on me like that. You scared me.”

Lando chuckles, hands splaying over her stomach, thumbs brushing absentminded circles through the fabric of her shirt. “Sorry. Didn’t expect to catch you playing dress-up with my stuff.”

“Finders keepers,” she says in a singing voice, making Lando chuckle again.

“Yeah? You like it?”

“It looks cool,” she admits, “Therefore, it makes you look cool.”

Lando squeezes her a little tighter, “That mouth on you,” he teases.

The girl giggles, “Am I wrong? Also, you should’ve knocked, by the way,” she continues, reaching up to pull at the visor so she can actually see him.

“I should knock on a door that has my name on it?”

“Yeah, you do!” she sounds revolted, “Especially when you know there’s a lady waiting for you inside.”

Lando’s gaze darkens ever so slightly as he takes her in. She looks like a mirage under the dim light of the small room, her curls coming untamed from under his helmet and her eyes so bright and filled with love, looking back at him.

He nods with a boyish smile, “I’ll try to remember that next time.”

Maybe it’s just exhaustion making his eyes so heavy-lidded, the lingering adrenaline from a long day fading into something softer. But when she catches him staring, Lando has the same soft gaze he does whenever they sit on the couch and he’s about to doze off; he looks unintentionally hot like this, worn out but content.

“Alright, racer boy. Can we go now?” she asks, pressing back against him slightly.

Lando sighs, reluctant. “Not yet. I still have a couple of hours to go. Gotta go over the data with the engineers,” his fingers tighten briefly on her hips before he steps back. “You can head back to the hotel if you’re bored. I’ll get you a car.”

She pouts, “It’s not as fun without you.”

That wins her another chuckle, but this time, there’s something else in Lando’s expression. His gaze is shamelessly dragging over her with an intensity that makes her pulse stutter. It’s only now that he really registers that she’s wearing his helmet, his name and number stamped all over.

She’s worn his clothes before — his hoodies, his merch, his team’s attire — but this feels completely different. It makes his mouth dry and head spin, and he might be exhausted, but suddenly, swallowing the lump in his throat, Lando realizes he’s so turned on.

“Then stay,” he encourages her, “I have half an hour to decompress before going to debriefing. I’m sure we can find something fun to do.”

His suit suddenly feels tighter, heat creeping up the back of his neck. He swallows again, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he exhales slowly.

“Is that so?” she challanges him. “Something in mind already?”

He runs a hand through his curls before reaching for her again, “Maybe,” his voice is low, amused but laced with something indulgent. His fingers skim her waist, tracing the hem of her shirt as he tugs her closer. “You’re pretty inspiring.”

She tilts her head slightly, the visor still lifted so he can see the teasing glint in her eyes. “Well, that’s new,” she laughs. “But I was just messing around.”

Lando hums, unconvinced. “Sure you were.”

She moves to take the helmet off, but his hand catches hers mid-motion.

“No, leave it,” says Lando, thumb grazing over her knuckles. His breath is warm when he leans in, his next words spoken directly against its glossy material. “You have no idea how hot you look right now.”

A shiver rolls down her spine, and it quickly goes south, right between her legs. It makes Lando grin subtly, then he reaches for the visor, pulling it down with a definitive, loud click. At that, her world narrows in an instant, and the limited view somehow makes every touch and every breath between them more intense.

Lando walks her back until she’s perched on the edge of the physio table, her pulse hammering as she watches him, excited, but mostly curious about his plans. They have thirty minutes, so his movements aren’t rushed in any way. Quite the opposite. They’re almost lazy, but there’s something precise about the way he reaches for the zipper of his race suit.

He rolls his shoulders, loosening up, then adjusts the height of the table so that when he sinks to his knees in front of her, she’s exactly where he wants her to be. Patiently, his fingers trail up her legs, making slow work of the button on her jeans. There’s no hurry in the way he peels them down, taking her underwear with them in one go, but the moment he gets rid of them, there’s a shift in his demeanor.

Lando exhales sharply, his large hands splaying over her thighs as he looks at her, half-lust and half-serious. “You gotta keep quiet, baby,” he says, a hint of mischief curling around his words. “These walls aren’t real, and anyone passing by the door can hear us blink.”

There was a little giggle stuck in her throat, but now she barely has time to react before his fingers part her, his touch light at first, just exploring while he preps her with the dexterity of a man who did it countless of times before.

Her breath catches at the first slow stroke, her thighs tensing as he traces circles where she’s most sensitive. The first sound she makes is barely a whisper of a whimper, that Lando trained his ears to hear, since is muffled inside the helmet.

He huffs out a quiet laugh, “Is that my cue?”

Before she can answer, Lando leans in.

Initially, his mouth is warm and merciful. He licks into her with a sort of tamed hunger that’s out of his character, savoring every little shift of her hips, every shudder she tries to suppress. Even so, it sends her a clear message: even though his energy is low from the long day, his need to taste her is anything but.

The world outside their room hums with noise — faint conversations, the occasional shuffle of footsteps, the distant whir of power tools in the garage. But all she can focus on is the way he’s lapping at her clit, the slick sound of it embarrassingly loud in the small space, her own whimpers barely contained behind the visor.

Lando chuckles against her, the vibration making her head tilt back slightly; the weight of the helmet forces her to let her head fall against the wall, which positions her even better in front of him.

“Gonna have to be quieter than that,” he teases, slipping his fingers between her folds, pressing just enough to make her squirm.

She barely manages to shake her head, her breath ragged. The visor fogs up as a result, which forces her to close her eyes, since her sense of sight is officially useless.

Lando looks up proudly, fingers pushing deeper as he settles in, more than happy to test her limits. He knows how to curl them just right, the wet sounds obscene in the stillness of the room.

His free hand grips her thigh like he’s starved, holding her open for him, his name echoing softly inside the helmet — muted yet desperate. He feels the way she gets even more aroused with each passing second, coating his fingers with every slick stroke, her body responding to him exactly as it does every single time he takes over.

Startled with new sensations experienced in the dark, she brings a shaky hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the moans threatening to spill out, only to realize, all over again, that she can’t. A frustrated whimper escapes instead, the same hand scrambling for something to support herself. Finally, her fingers clutch at the edge of the table, but it’s useless; her hips are already rolling against Lando, chasing more.

“Mhm,” he hums, his voice shallow. “Getting so wet for me, should’ve done this ages ago. Why didn’t we?”

She gasps, trembling on the edge and so ready to agree with him, but then Lando stops, and the loss of his fingers is almost unbearable. Before she can think, a loud, frustrated moan slips past her lips, making him laugh at her impatience.

She’s too gone now, drunk on the feeling, and the weight of the helmet is definitely not helping. Not when she’s melting under his touch, making it hard to move, and pretty much do anything but stay there, waiting. Aching for more.

Lando watches her for a moment, dark-eyed and smirking, already hard just from seeing her like this, her body so pliant and responsive under his hands. He pulls himself out with one hand, stroking lightly, and with the other, he grips the edge of the helmet, forcing her to look at him.

“Alright, baby, I’m serious. No more of that, okay?” asks Lando. “If someone hears us, it’s gonna be bad. And we don’t want that, do we?” he continues, watching her gathering all her strength only to nod slightly. “That’s right. The second I hear you moan, I’ll have to stop.”

Even Lando knows it’s a lie, but he had to say it, just in case.

She swallows, nodding again as best as she can, her pulse a frantic rhythm against his fingers when he drags his hands down her sides, holding her still. Then, with a precise snap of his hips, he buries himself inside her, stealing the breath from her lungs.

The force of it sends a shudder through the physio table, the legs creaking against the floor. She barely has time to adjust before he thrusts again, deeper this time, pressing her body into the table like he’s trying to mold her into it. Her thighs tighten around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, desperate to keep him there, to keep him buried inside her where she needs him most, the weight of him, the pressure and the friction maddening.

Lando swallows a moan, but some of it manages to slip past gritted teeth, “Fuck, you look—” he cuts himself off, sucking in a sharp breath. He doesn’t even have words for it. The way she feels around him and the heat of her pulling him back in every time he dares to pull away, it’s enough to make his mind go blank.

The table shifts again, inching against the floor with every thrust. She grips at the suit still clinging to his shoulders, trying to hold onto something, but there’s no escape from the way he’s driving into her, every drag of his cock making her shake beneath him.

“Lando…”

He knows. He feels it too. The way they’re teetering on the edge of something dangerously intoxicating, and the way they’re doing that together.

His hands tighten on her, his next thrust shoving the table another inch to the side. “Shit,” he breathes, voice husky with restraint. “Hold on, love. A little more, yeah?” He grips the edges of the table and snaps his hips forward again, watching the way her body reacts to him. “Fucking hell,” he spits, eyes dark as he watches her fall apart under him, little by little. “Keep me in, baby. Like that.”

She clings to him without hesitation, like she was made for this, for him. He’s marking her and he knows it, his fingers moving back to her waist, digging into her soft flesh. Lando’s name is all over her, in ways that only he can see, in places only he gets to touch. And the way she lets him, makes his head spin.

In the haze of it all, a sudden, foreign thought crashes into him like a gut-punch: her name next to his. It’s ridiculous, completely out of place in a moment like this, but it paralyzes him for a second. Until his body reacts on its own, fire spreading through his veins. He leans forward, caging her in, his thrusts becoming sharper, more desperate. His forehead presses against the cool surface of the helmet for just a moment, grounding himself, before he pulls back and looks at her.

He can barely see her eyes, wide and glazed over, but it’s enough. His fingers tighten on her hips as he slams back into her, dragging her flush against him, letting her feel every inch of his length. The sharp noise that the table makes underneath them is lost in the delicious sounds of their bodies moving together, of their heavy breathing, of the desperate way she silently whimpers his name like she wants to keep it on her tongue forever.

He’s spiraling, drowning in the heat of her, in the thought that she lets him take her like this, lets him ruin her for anyone else.

Yet somehow, it’s still not enough.

Her hands fly up instinctively, grasping at the helmet, knuckles turning white as she tries to steady herself against the overwhelming feeling of him.

Outside the room, voices pass by again, too close, and Lando clenches his jaw, fighting his own demons as he’s forcing himself to stay quiet.

Luckily, she’s close. He can feel it in the way she tightens around him, the way her body shakes as she tries her hardest to stay silent. Inside the helmet though, her breathing is shallow, small cries coming out of her parted lips.

“Come on, pretty girl,” says Lando in a demanding yet soft tone. One of his hands clamps around her neck, guiding her into each thrust. “Give it to me. Let me feel you.”

Lando doesn’t slow down one bit, rolling his hips in a way that he knows it drives her wild. As a result, her body tenses, trembling as pleasure overtakes her. A choked gasp echoes inside the helmet, and Lando smirks, watching her unravel. He’s so utterly captivated by the way her walls tighten around him and the way her thighs quiver in his hands, as if she can crumble if he’s won’t be careful. It’s almost too much for him, but Lando manages to pull out just in time, watching as her release coats his throbbing length, as she shudders through the aftershocks.

“Yeah,” he breaths, running a hand up and down her thigh. “Such a good girl, baby. Let it all out.”

She slumps back against the table, panting inside the helmet, her body overly sensitive. Keeping his eyes on her, Lando gives himself a few slow strokes, exhaling hard through his nose; he’s so close it’s painful.

“You okay?” he asks her, his voice as hoarse as if he screamed for hours at a concert.

Slowly coming back to her senses, she exhales sharply, “I’m good,” she manages and, before she gets the chance to ask him the same question, Lando slaps her thigh in order to catch her attention.

“Down on your knees, then. Come on,” he rasps, guiding the girl to her knees, his patience wearing out quickly, as he tilts her chin up with two fingers.

The glow of the light catches on the sleek surface of the helmet, and something about it — about her like this, still catching her breath, still his — makes his stomach flip.

“God, look at you,” he breathes, his fingers tracing the edge of the visor as he grips the helmet gently. “Obedient little thing.”

She doesn’t speak — can’t, really — just watches him through the darkened shield, completely at his mercy.

Lando’s breathing stutters as he pumps himself faster, the tension coiling tight in his core. “Gonna make a mess of you, yeah?” he asks, mostly rhetorically. “Right there on my—”

He barely manages a breath before the orgasm crashes into him, blinding and all-consuming. His grip tightens, a sharp groan breaking free as heat pulses through him, spilling in thick streaks across the dark visor. Each of his breath is shaky, his mind fogged with pleasure and a sudden possessiveness.

She stays still, letting him ruin the helmet just like he ruined her, and the sight leaves him dizzy.

His fingers twitch as he pushes sweat-damp curls from his forehead, exhaling a laugh, wrecked and breathless. The sound of it fills the space, mixing with the muffled hum of voices just beyond the walls. But all Lando can hear is the quiet, pleased sigh that leaves her lips, her fingers scratching against her thighs, as if she wants to touch him, as if she wants to taste him.

His stomach clenches at the thought, the aftershocks leaving him lightheaded, wrecked in a way he’s never felt before. He exhales sharply, looking down at her, at his helmet, at what he’s done.

Then, Lando’s fingers are flexing against her head before he finally loosens his grip, running a slow thumb over the mess he’s made.

“Hell,” he pants, still catching his breath. Then, softer, with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “Might have to fuck you like this more often.”

She exhales a quiet, amused breath, tilting her head slightly. “Guess that means I’m actually keeping it.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[x--sinner--x]

I love the concept of coincidental rape. Like just imagine being neighbours, but we found each other on a dating app. We talk and flirt for days, and eventually we reach the point of exchanging selfies and other spicy pictures.

And then one day I noticed something. In one of the pics you sent me, I could see my own house in the reflection. You took one right by your window and that's how I realized it.

With this newfound information I had to act upon it. I eagerly knock on your door, and you don't disappoint as you answer the door quickly.

"Hey, we haven't really met but I am your neighbour," I introduce myself, "and this is my house behind me. Can I come in? I would like to get acquainted."

I didn't know such a bombshell was talking to me on a dating app while being my neighbour.

"Yeah, sure. Please come in." The funny part is, as I am walking into the hallway of your house, you are texting me on the dating app. "Sorry daddy, but I have a visitor. I'll talk to you later. 💋💋"

And my phone pings with the notification you just sent me. While I know the cause behind the ping, you have no idea as it's just a normal notification in your eyes.

"Thanks for letting me in. You have a gorgeous house." I pause for a moment to take in the view and proceed to talk again. "And here you go. I wanted to bring you a gift to introduce myself."

"Thank you for the compliment... and for the gift as well. What is it?" You ask curiously.

"It's a pretty rare vintage wine bottle. My dad had a wine cellar and was an avid wine collector. When I moved here, I brought some of his collections with me, and I thought you would enjoy it. Wanna drink with me?"

"Aw that's lovely. And yeah sure, we could have a drink." But little did you know, I had put in a little substance to knock you out in a matter of seconds.

We both make our way to your living room, where sofas are arranged around a small glass table with some glasses. You use a bottle opener and pour some for both of us. We take seats opposite each other and I take my glass of wine and bring it up to my mouth, but I don't drink it. I waited patiently until you took the first sip and it wasn't long before that happened.

"Do you live here alone? Seems pretty big for you." I ask you a simple question, just to break the ice until you fall unconscious.

"Well, this is my friend's house actually. She has moved abroad with her family, and I was searching for a house and she rented it to me a year back." You take another pause to take a few quick sips and then continue. "Damn, this wine really tastes good. Great choi---- huh.. what's happe--"

The wine glass shatters on the ground as you pass out on your side of the sofa. I placed my glass back on the table as I had accomplished what I was hoping for.

I carry your passed out body to your bedroom and place you down gently on the bed. I whip out my phone and take some pictures of you - for keepsake purposes.

I slowly proceed to take off your clothes and look at you in all of your glory. You look much more pretty than the pictures you keep sending me in a teasing way. I couldn't hold it in anymore and I come on top of you and mount my cock next to your entrance and start thrusting it inside you.

Your pussy feels so tight even as you are passed out. Your breasts flop up and down with each thrust and when I look up at you, you look just like a dainty little flower. People might always look at your cute and demure side of you, but what I'm seeing now is a whole another side of you.

Your glowing skin puts infectious thoughts into my brain, forcing me to act upon them. I give into my desires, violating your supple skin and leaving marks as I go. I smell the perfume on your hair and it only makes me all the more feral. Your breasts are so milky that my hands sink in with every squeeze.

I take your breasts into my mouth and suck on it like a baby and it feels so good. I was picking up the pace with which my cock was moving inside your pussy. I grab onto your hips as I thrust harder, reaching further parts of your pussy with subsequent thrusts.

I think I overestimated my own resistance to cum, because it didn't take me too long, combusting all that pent up cum straight up her womb. I pull my cock out and see some of it dripping out onto the sheets - and it made me only want to continue. I pushed my cock back in her hole - in every hole in fact, taking turns - until I unloaded my cum several times in each one of them - and watching my cum drip out of every hole was very satisfying to see.

I took some more photos of you in that state, and sent you those pictures in the dating app.

"No worries baby. Here are some souvenirs of our first encounter with each other. Thanks for the return present. It was really lovely. Hope you liked all of my presents.

- Your visitor. 💋💋💋"

[whorelaud]

OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡ (02)

social media & irl AU !

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch content sexual jokes, rafe being a tease !

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 01 ¡ 02 ¡ 03

yourusername

liked by sarahcameron, rafecameron and 1,129 others

yourusername me and gf on a mermaids date  🧜‍♀️ 

view all comments

sarahcameron GF 🙈🙈🙈 most beautiful girl ive ever seen ↳ yourusername BABYYY ily

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rafecameron Hey 👋🏼👋🏼👋🏼 ↳ yourusername uhhh uhmm  ↳ rafecameron ??? What ↳ sarahcameron what are you doing here ↳ yourusername yeah get out of my comment section ↳ rafecameron I’m not even doing anything 

rafecameron Sarah looks like a duck  ↳ yourusername shes my little duckling 🐥  ↳ rafecameron Oh I didn't mean that in a cute way ↳ sarahcameron hey >:( ↳ yourusername insult my gf one more time and ill fuck you UP ↳ rafecameron Oh?  ↳ ryanontop Uhh  ↳ rafecameron Yo wsg baby ↳ yourusername flirt somewhere else please dont start sexting in my comment section ↳ rafecameron Awe man :( but it's way more fun in public ↳ yourusername pardon me! there's children in my comments, please refrain from having sex here ↳ rafecameron You're the one talking about sexting, not me...

Involving yourself with Rafe Cameron, whom you later found out was good friends with your brother, was definitely not a part of your plan. 

Spending the next two months with him meant coming to terms with your actions, perhaps take responsibility for the mess you created out of this situation. Had you further dug into his information, paid attention to the last name splattered across your screen, you would not have ended up in the bathroom, contemplating whether going downstairs was a good idea. 

Avoiding him could be an option right now, but you knew you'd have to face him one day, whether it was today, or another. And while he stayed oblivious to the incident, you couldn’t help the embarrassment that flushed your face everytime his eyes would lock with yours.

You somehow spent the afternoon together, his lingering gazes leaving you a nervous mess every time his eyes fell on you. He’d stare at you for a few seconds, letting tension heave through the air, almost as if it was the most casual thing ever, as if he’s not your brother’s best friend, someone so off limits, forbidden to the touch. 

Besides that, it was nice, you got to spend more time with Sarah, catch up with the girl and everything you missed out on in the past few hours she was gone. It distracted you from your embarrassment, eternally grateful, because you don’t think you’ll be capable of spending another minute within Rafe’s presence without exploding. 

Taking a deep breath, you mustered up the courage to head downstairs, taking each step with haste. Sarah perked up when the hardwood creaked underneath you, causing you to come to a halt. Sarah called out your name, addressing you with the hand she waved in your direction, her excitement instantly replacing the frown spread across your face with a smile. 

“What took you so long?” Her lips jut into a pout, tucking her hair behind her ear. She welcomed you with open arms, chuckling when you accepted the embrace with a content hum “You know, I missed you.” 

“You were jus’ talking to me.” You muffled out, relaxing as the blonde rocked your bodies back and forth. 

“It’s not the same!” She exclaimed, pulling away for a moment. “It’s not everyday I get to see you in real life.” 

Ryan cleared his throat, in an attempt to earn yours and Sarah’s attention. To his satisfaction, he did, causing your gaze to shift back to the latter, instantly detecting the disgusted expression he had splattered across his face. 

“Can you save this for later, and please help me out?” Ryan questioned, making you roll your eyes. “You think I called you down so you could be all over each other?” 

“Shut up.” Sarah stuck out her tongue, teasing the latter from where she stood. 

You scrunched your nose, tensing when you sensed Rafe’s burning glare from the corner of your eyes. The boy’s glances were intense, almost as if he was staring at you for the purpose of undressing you with his gaze, and that, yeah, it never failed to knock a breath out of your chest, creating a flustered mess out of you. 

Sarah returned to her old position, standing behind the counter with you following in her steps, striving to see what they were up to. Your lips formed into an ‘o’ shape, peaking with interest when you noticed the deviled eggs Ryan was plating.

“That looks good,” you hummed, turning in Ryan’s direction, who conceitedly nodded, proud of the dish they had displayed on the counter. “Don’t people usually make these for thanksgiving, though?”

“That’s what I said!” Sarah agreed, giggling when Ryan grumbled, disapproving of your statement. 

“You’re acting like you’re not gonna eat them!” He elbowed your side, acknowledging you with his chin when you hissed, faking a pained expression. “Stop complaining and grab more plates, we need them for the mash potatoes.” 

“The only thing missing is the turkey, at this point.” You scoffed, mumbling to yourself, though Ryan could still hear you. “Where’s the plates?” 

“Uhh,” Sarah started, observing the cabinets behind you. She pointed to one of them with her finger, your eyes instantly following where her digit landed. “You can find some in there.”

With a nod, you shuffled to approach the stacked cabinets, aiming for the one Sarah was referring to. A groan instantly escaped your throat, gaze trailing up to the plates positioned on the top shelf. 

“Why on earth are these cabinets so high?” You whined, standing on your tippy toes to grab the dishes, merely to end up with nothing in your grasp. “And why are you putting plates on the top shelf?! None of you could reach them!” 

You extended your arm once again, stretching out your body in an attempt to seize the plates, losing your balance when you maintained the same position for a little too long, eventually failing to achieve what you were aiming for. 

Ryan mumbled a few words of complaints, rushing you to grab the plates faster, though he noticed that you were struggling, not offering to step in and help you. You paused for a second, calculating how you were going to capture the plates without asking for help, as that was a no in your watch. 

Right, you could use a chair, and although that was quite the embarrassment, it was the only option you had, even if it meant making a fool out of yourself. 

“Here, lemme try.” 

You tensed where you stood, breath hitching when Rafe shuffled behind you, his broad chest colliding against your back. Your vision blurred as you inhaled his scent, his musky cologne intoxicating your senses. 

Your gaze trailed up his arm, where it hovered over your shoulder, the brief contact sending goosebumps down your spine. And if you weren’t aware before, you definitely are now, enjoying the sight of him towering over you a little too much for your liking. 

The latter grunted as he reached for the plates, capturing them with a little difficulty. The sound instantly echoed through your ears, blinding you whole, that you had no right being this into it. Your mind wandered with thoughts you shouldn’t even ponder about, not as the boy was innocently stepping in to help, when your own brother couldn’t. 

“There you go.” Rafe muttered, voice barely above a whisper. He placed the plates on the counter in front of you, moving to catch sight of your reaction, chuckling when he noticed how flustered you were, mouth slightly parting with an exhale. “Did I startle you? Sorry, I was jus’ tryin’ to help.” 

“Right,” you said through a breath, blinking far too many times for your liking. “Thank you, I– that was really nice.” 

“Mhm.” He leaned his arm over the counter, admiring you with a knowing smile tugging at his lips. He stood still for a moment, almost as if he was seeking something out of you, perchance a reply, if that was even appropriate in this situation.

“What?” You asked, cluelessly staring back at him, fingers clutching the plates you had in hand. 

“Could you hurry up!” Ryan interrupted, causing you to jolt from where you stood, leaving Rafe hanging as you headed in your brother’s direction. “The food’s about to run cold.”

“You could’ve helped me grab them, dickhead.” You scoffed, failing to keep your eyes to yourself as you stole a glance in Rafe’s direction, breath catching in your throat when you spotted him yet staring at you, with the same mischievous smile he had from earlier. 

He’s only helping, you’re acting like this because it caught you off guard, right? Fuck, you were totally screwed, how were you supposed to act normal when Rafe was behaving like a gentleman, doing everything in his power to make you comfortable, whether it’s him helping you grab the plates, or him offering you a drink with the scorching hot sun. 

Either way, this was bad, for your mental being, and the boundaries you created for yourself. It’s only been a day, what will happen in the next few weeks you’re spending with him? You don’t know, but what you do know is that they’ll be hell, tortuous, even.

Sarah passed you the pot of mash, politely asking you to plate it, making it hard for you to refuse the request. You did as told, doing it as neatly as physically possible, with Ryan nagging over your head, telling you to be more cautious in the process. 

You managed to get what you were asked for done, with the boy pestering you nonstop throughout it, creating a frustrated mess out of you. Rafe offered a helping hand, arranging the plates on the table, for each person they were serving. 

The elders came through the front door, having been gone for most of the time they’ve been here, excusing themselves for what you assumed was a business meeting. You embraced your mom in a hug, presenting the food to her with your free arm, snickering when she squealed, taken aback by all the food displayed on the table. 

Dinner was chaotic, filled with chatter and giggles as everyone bonded over the food, getting to catch up with each other. Ward was quite the man, and while you did dislike him, witnessing all the times he was harsh to Sarah, you couldn’t dodge his curious questions, not when everyone surrounding you thought of you as angel who wouldn’t hurt a fly. 

You kept to yourself for most of the time, amused by Sarah and Ryan arguing over who cooked each dish, fighting to claim their credit. And as for Rafe, well, he was there, sitting besides Ryan, who was across from you.

“You’re oddly quiet, Bug.” Sarah suddenly started, talking over the elders, who were chatting about business. “Is everything okay?”

“Huh, yeah!” You nodded, flashing her an endearing smile, one Sarah contently returned. 

“It’s only ‘cause there’s people around,” Ryan clicked his teeth, having heard the conversation. “Trust, she’s such a brat, don’t encourage her to keep talking, otherwise, she’ll never shut up.” 

“Can you not?” You muffled through gritted teeth, kicking his foot from underneath the table. “Could you also move? You’re all up in my space.” 

“That’s uh,” Rafe choked out, taking a sip off of the glass of water splattered across his side of the table. “That’s my leg.” 

You froze your spot, eyes widening with shock when you peaked under the table, discerning that it was Rafe’s leg you were kicking, Ryan’s far back positioned inches away from his chair. Sarah mimicked your action, chuckling when she caught sight of the ridiculous sight, entertained by the situation. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You apologized, eyebrows furrowing with concern. “I thought you were Ryan.”

“It’s okay.” He dismisses, flashing you a gentle smile. “Sorry for ruining your uh– plans.” 

“Why are you apologizing?” Ryan jutted his lips into a pout, turning to glimpse at Rafe, whose face filled with concern. “You’re supposed to defend me. Why are you taking her side?” 

“Mhm,” Rafe hummed, going along with the bit. His fingers found the curve of Ryan’s jaw, cupping his face in a teasing manner. “Did I hurt your feelings? I’m sorry, I’ll be more cautious next time. Do you want a kiss, sweetheart?” 

Ryan nodded, nuzzling into the latter’s hand, letting his eyes fall shut when Rafe leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss to his forehead. The mere sight made you sick to your stomach, with Sarah just as cringed out as you were, grumbling with detest.

Looks like you had some competition. 

“Can you not?” Sarah huffed, “We’re eating.” 

“She doesn’t get it.” Ryan shook his head with disappointment, withdrawing from the touch. Rafe agreed by nodding, patting Ryan’s shoulder before he got back to eating, acting as if that was the normalest thing they’ve done over dinner. 

Fancy plating was all fun and games until you had to do the dishes, and with the little work you did tonight, it did not look good on your watch. Ryan excused himself out of the list, with Sarah following behind, informing you that they made dinner, meaning it was your turn to do the dishes. 

Which, truth be told was fair, you totally understood where they were coming from, because if that was you, you would’ve done the same thing. 

“I’ll help out.” Rafe joined in, the suggestion creating a nervous mess out of you. 

That’s how you ended up in front of the sink, watching as plates piled up with every dish Rafe brought, instantly joining your side after he tidied up the table, wiping it clean to ensure a disinfected setting. 

Your contained giggles seeped through the silence, observing as Rafe clumsily scrubbed a plate, stumbling as it almost slipped from his hands. A sigh of relief escaped his parted lips, tightening his hold around it before it could further slither through his fingers. 

“You don’t need to do it.” You uttered, catching Rafe’s attention, who turned to face you with a smug grin spread across his lips, oblivious to the teasing smile you flashed him.

“Why?” He curled one of his eyebrows with confusion, scrubbing the plate with all his might, though it was past its limit. “Do you not want my help?”

“It’s not that,” you playfully rolled your eyes, rinsing off the excess soap. “It just looks like you’re struggling.” 

“‘That so?” He shot back, mimicking your action, copying your each move to make sure he’s doing it right. 

“Mhm.” You mused, letting silence linger through the air, atmosphere heaving with tension. 

“You know,” Rafe started, eyes glued to his gloved hands. “You’re different over text.” 

You almost drop the plate in your hand, caught off guard by the latter’s statement. Rafe maintained a blank expression, continuing what he was doing while you tensed in your spot, too dumbfounded to move, or respond. 

“I–” you stammered, abandoning the dishes piled in the sink, and focusing your whole attention on Rafe. “Why are you bringing that up?” 

“Should I not?” He questioned, stealing a swift glance in your direction as he cocked his head to the side, intrigued by how the conversation was flowing. “I mean, you did text me this morning, am I supposed to pretend it didn’t happen?”

“You said it yourself,” you started, suddenly feeling your throat go dry. “Ryan’s my brother, it would be best if we didn’t discuss this.” 

“Why not?” He muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not like we’re doin’ anythin’ weird, y’know? I mean, you did leave an impression on me.”

“impression?” You repeated, jeered by his words as your mouth moved faster than your brain. “Did you know we’d be meeting here?” 

“Well,” he replied, rinsing off the soapy dishes. “I can’t say I didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, then?” You whispered, afraid others would overhear your conversation. “Had you told me, I wouldn’t have continued speaking to you. Do you know how awkward things are now that you’re here?” 

“Why?” Rafe hushed out, pausing for a second, before he turned to face you, now leveling his face with your own. “Am I making you nervous?” 

Your throat ran dry, taken aback by the question. Was he flirting with you? And if not, why did it have such a big effect on you? Tolling you with temptation in ways you knew were impossible, out of reach, even. 

“What?” You uttered through a breath, face flushing with heat. “No– no it’s just–”

“I’m just messing.” He snickered, amused by how flustered you grew, stuttering to mutter a coherent statement out. 

“That wasn’t funny.” You grumbled out, fluttering your eyes at the latter, visibly embarrassed by the reaction the boy received from you. 

“Right.” He chuckled, not sounding convinced at all. 

The next few minutes filled with tension, as you both fell quiet, letting silence heave the air. Rafe didn’t seem as affected as you were, maintaining a blank expression the whole time you were a mess, too embarrassed to be in the boy’s presence, who seemed oblivious to the uncomfortable atmosphere he had created. 

You instantly excused yourself to your room afterwards, telling the boy you were sleepy, though it was too early for bed. You needed a moment to yourself, even if it meant lying through your teeth.

Besides, you weren’t the only one who was gone, as Sarah was nowhere in sight, disappearing once you were done. She was probably talking to her boyfriend, hence you know how clingy they were with each other. 

You took a quick shower, freshening up before bed, immediately followed with your skin care routine, playing soft music in the background while you did so. You dressed yourself in comfortable pajamas, instantly slipping under your covers, letting the warmness engulf your body whole. 

Your eyes droswed with sleep, after a few hours of scrolling through your phone, not noticing the time, only acknowledging how late it was when you received a notification that earned your attention. Your breath almost hitched as you opened the DM, caught off guard by who it was from. 

It was Rafe.

a/n THANK YOU FOR ALL THE SUPPORT ON THIS WTH!! i wasnt expectingt it ily mwahh!! & just a little fyi this story will have more irl parts, it wont be solely sm based as i alr have stated in the beginning! it will definitely have social media, but im not abandoning the irl part of it yk 😣 that being said, feel free to lmk if you want to be removed/added to the taglist :) (in order to stay on it, you need to interact with the posts)

TAGLIST @greyswaren @slut-4-gojo @depthsofdespairr @littlelamy @lilithblackkk @cnnamongrl @mattyskies @percysley @jaklvbub @inlovewithdob @ilovefiction4lmen @theeternaloptimistt @maybejj @icaqttt @idgasb @purplerose291 @shincidios @laniirackssss @malibuhearts @adulterated-cocaine @bugg06 @murdockcastleslut @drwstarkeys @pretymads @klmaaaoooo @wearemadeofstardust0 @urbrunettebombshell @stylestarkey @riverxsq @louxmcl @totalswag @cl4uus @simpforboys @tearsfromasliverwolf-blog @bilssturns @fandomhopped @strsdoulikedem @congratsloserr @dr3wstarkey @xoxo-ada @stvrligghtt @rafeswhoooreee @kythefangirl25 @chaneydoll @blushmimi @akobx @empath-bunny @flirtism @stopnala @rafecameronswifeyy

[hyejue]

꙳ ﹒ ⊢ ㆍ ﹒ 🍓 ࣭ *﹒ ◌ 🎸 ࣭

cher ; girlhood ; girl tips ; twenty-two ; sfw only

[ list ]

one. BE ‘THAT GIRL’ : BACK TO SCHOOL

two. GLOW-UP HABITS

[landoughnut]

My Woman

♡ masterlist - request

♡ pairing - max verstappen x fem!reader (fc - cindy kimberly)

♡ summary - max fighting with people thirsting in his girlfriends comments

♡ warnings - horny/simp max, crack, some fluff, some cursing, use of y/n

♡ w/c & a/n - smau | i actually love writing these ones but ive gotta learn how to do the other types of smau's people make with twitter and stuff ahahahaha

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[salemlunaa]

VOID STATE: LAZINESS IS A DISEASE, GET WELL SOON 🧸

get your ass up and get your dream life

*mild tough love because some of you need this*

so alot of people go on about how they procrastinate the void and shifting to their new reality because of fear. but alot of you do not want or care to admit that , you’re just too fucking lazy. And to that i say seriously?? You know that you can have ANYTHING, absolutely ANYTHING and EVERYTHING you dream of, with just a trip to the void state and yet you hold it off. “I’ll do it tonight” you say, even though the most groundbreaking thing you have done today was scrolling through your phone on this app and others (which is time that could have been spent tapping in). You torture yourself scrolling through tiktok and instagram, looking at others from afar with jealousy wishing you had their lives. You add posts into your favourites telling yourself “i’ll have that life someday”, “i’ll have that body soon”, “when i shift i’ll be as pretty as her” (when you could literally have all that and better RIGHT NOW) You insert yourself in different narratives, shows and groups you wish you were apart of, when you could literally shift to a reality where you are there.

you don’t have to look at them with jealousy

you dont have to get upset about your shitty life

you don’t have to imagine

you don’t have to want for anything

you don’t have to yearn, long, desire

it can be yours, if i’m honest you should be more excited about this, scripting anything you could ever possibly dream of, even the little details, and they could be YOURS. you should start being so much more excited about this, about your dream life, like seriously. And that excitement about having everything should motivate you to tap in. Instead your lazy ass has adopted a loser mentality, doing absolutely nothing all day telling yourself you’ll “try at night” and when you don’t get in you repeat the cycle. You abandon responsibilities telling yourself it doesn’t matter because “youre gonna shift anyways”, and you don’t even put in the actual effort. It’s a very dangerous cycle to go down and you can go from moving round that cycle once to doing it 30 times and before you know it you’ve spent a month in this rut.

you don’t have to wait until the night and you know that so don’t give me bullshit. Take those limiting beliefs away and do it at any time of day when you get the chance.

Do you know how lucky you are to even have the access to learn about this shit. There are probably so many people much more disciplined than you, that would do so much with this information, who don’t even have access to the internet or any outside resources to even reach this sort of information and you’re fucking wasting your days lurking on this app. doing what? And it’s sad because, this community is so small meaning you are here for a reason my love, all that shit you went through and didn’t deserve, you looked at it all and knew there was more out there for you, knew that you were deserving of more. And i’ll be dammed if your lazy ass ruins it for yourself.

You have overcomplicated the void so much to the point where you’re scared to “fail” and “let yourself down” so you put it off and say you’ll “do it later”. Now remember, you cannot fail the void, you cannot fail something that is inside you, something that IS you. What you fail to do is stand firm in the fact that you’re a god and can do anything, everything is easy for you so get off your ass and go shift.

i just HAD to 🤭 @smellofemale

you deserve everything, and you CAN, in fact, have it all. JUST DO IT 🥥💋

[pucksandpower]

Mirror Mirror

Day 12 → Mirror Sex 💋 Oscar Piastri

Warnings: 18+ content and body image issues

Kinktober Masterlist

Oscar swings open the door of the apartment, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. The training session ran longer than he expected, and every muscle in his body aches with that familiar, satisfying burn. His shirt sticks to his back as he steps inside, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

“Hey, I’m home!” He calls out, already loosening his shoes by the door.

There’s no immediate response, just the quiet hum of life within the walls. The soft sound of typing, a quick, anxious tap-tap-tap, echoes from the living room.

Oscar frowns. “You in there?”

He rounds the corner and catches sight of you sitting on the couch, laptop balanced on your knees, fingers moving at a furious pace across the keyboard. There’s something about the way you're hunched over the screen that makes him pause. Your shoulders are tense, like you’re trying to shield the screen from view, your eyes darting up only when he steps into the room.

You slam the laptop shut so fast it nearly snaps.

His brows furrow, eyes narrowing as he approaches. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” you blurt out, standing up quickly, a little too quickly, the laptop clutched in your hands as if it’s a lifeline. “Just … work stuff.”

Oscar doesn’t buy it for a second. “Work stuff?” He takes another step forward, his voice low, suspicious. “Since when do you hide work stuff from me?”

You swallow hard, eyes darting toward the bedroom as if you’re calculating the distance. “It’s nothing, Oscar. Just let it go.”

But he doesn’t. He’s not the kind of guy who lets things slide, especially when something feels off. And this? This feels way off.

Before you can react, he reaches out, fingers closing around the edge of the laptop, pulling it out of your grip with a swift, practiced motion. You make a sound of protest, stepping forward to try to grab it back, but he’s already moving, holding it up and out of your reach.

“Oscar, please,” you say, your voice tight with panic now. “Just don’t-”

Too late. He flips the screen open, eyes scanning the tabs that fill the screen.

Silence.

Plastic surgeons. Breast augmentation. Rhinoplasty. Procedures. Prices. Clinics in Monaco.

Oscar’s jaw clenches. His entire body stiffens as he scrolls through the endless pages of information, his mind trying to piece together what he’s seeing, trying to make sense of it.

He looks up, his voice low, controlled, but there’s a sharp edge to it now. “What the hell is this?”

You’re standing there, rooted to the spot, hands trembling slightly at your sides. Your eyes are wide, like you’ve been caught doing something unspeakable, something you’ve been desperately trying to keep hidden.

“I-” you start, but your voice cracks. You look away, like you can’t stand to meet his gaze, like his disappointment, his shock, is too much to bear.

He doesn’t move. He just stands there, staring at you, his grip tightening on the laptop, like he’s trying to hold onto some version of reality that isn’t unraveling right in front of him. “Why?” He asks, his voice still low, but now there's something almost pleading in it. “Why are you looking at this?”

You blink, eyes glistening with tears that haven’t yet fallen. You open your mouth to speak, but it’s like the words are stuck in your throat. Finally, you force them out, barely a whisper. “Because … I don’t … I don’t look like them.”

Oscar frowns, confused. “Like who?”

“The other girls,” you say, your voice breaking now. “The other girlfriends. The WAGs. I’ll never … I’ll never look like them.”

Oscar just stares at you for a long moment, completely blindsided. “What are you talking about?”

You let out a shaky breath, finally looking at him, your eyes pleading for him to understand. “I see them, Oscar. Every time we go to a race, every time I’m at the paddock. They’re all so … perfect. Their bodies, their faces … they all look like they belong there. Like they’re meant to be with someone like you.”

He feels something twist painfully in his chest, something dark and heavy that he wasn’t prepared for. “And you think you don’t?”

You shake your head, blinking away tears. “I don’t. I mean, look at me. I’m not … I’m not like them.”

Oscar sets the laptop down on the coffee table, the sound of it hitting the wood sharp and final. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself, trying to push through the wave of disbelief that’s crashing over him. He steps closer to you, his hands reaching out, grabbing your arms gently but firmly, like he needs to hold you steady, like he needs to make sure you don’t slip away from him.

“Are you serious?” His voice is rough now, the controlled calm slipping. “You think you need to change something? For what? To look like them? To, what, fit in?”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

“I can’t believe you’d even think this. I can’t believe you …” His voice trails off, and he releases your arms, stepping back like he needs the space to breathe, to think. "You’re not … them. You’re you. You’re the person I wake up next to every day, the person I chose. And you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You think I care about … what? If you fit some stupid image of what a WAG is supposed to look like?”

You shake your head, but you’re still crying, silent tears that slide down your cheeks, and Oscar feels like his heart is breaking in a way he’s never known before. He steps closer again, softer this time, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Your shoulders slump, and you wipe at your face, frustrated with yourself, with the tears, with the words that won’t stop spilling out. “Because I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to … fix it, or say something just to make me feel better. It’s my problem, not yours.”

“No,” he says firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. “No, it’s not just your problem. It’s our problem. You’re my girlfriend. What affects you affects me, too. How could you think that changing yourself like that would fix anything?”

You look at him then, really look at him, and it’s like you’re seeing him for the first time, like you didn’t expect this from him, this depth, this intensity.

“I just …” you start, and then falter, shaking your head. “I just feel like … I’m not enough.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He’s never heard you say anything like that before, never thought you could feel that way. He takes another step closer, his hands finding yours, holding them tight. “You’re more than enough. You always have been.”

Oscar’s voice is steady, but there’s a fire in his eyes now, something burning there, something fierce. “You don’t need to change a damn thing about yourself. Not for me. Not for anyone.”

You let out a shaky breath, tears still spilling down your cheeks, and he reaches up, brushing them away with the pad of his thumb, his touch gentle, careful. “You’re perfect the way you are. I need you to see that. I need you to believe that.”

You close your eyes, leaning into his touch, and for a moment, the world feels quiet again, like the storm that’s been raging inside you has finally begun to settle.

Oscar’s jaw tightens, and he pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you, holding you like he’s afraid you might disappear. He presses his lips to the top of your head, murmuring against your hair, “I love you, just the way you are.”

And as he holds you, as the silence stretches between you, he makes a silent promise to himself. He’s going to show you. Every day. Until you see yourself the way he sees you.

The most beautiful woman in the world.

***

Oscar watches you sleep beside him, the soft rise and fall of your chest, the peaceful expression on your face. In the dim light filtering through the curtains, he can still see the faint traces of yesterday’s conversation lingering in your features. The vulnerability in your voice when you said you weren’t enough echoes in his head, and it’s all he can think about.

You had fallen asleep easily, but Oscar couldn’t. His mind had been racing, going over every word you said, every tear that slipped down your cheek. You didn’t see yourself the way he saw you, and that truth made his chest ache in ways he didn’t know were possible.

You stir slightly, your hand curling around the edge of the pillow, your face turning away from him as you sink deeper into sleep. His fingers itch to touch your cheek, but he holds back, not wanting to wake you.

Instead, he slips out of bed, moving silently across the room and into the hallway. He has to do something. He can’t just let you go on feeling this way, believing that you aren’t enough, that you need to change yourself to measure up to some imaginary standard.

His phone buzzes in his hand, and he glances down at the notification. It’s an email — one of the many he sent in the middle of the night, after tossing and turning with frustration and resolve. It’s the response he’s been waiting for.

Oscar’s thumb hovers over the screen for a second before he taps the email open. He skims it quickly, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The installation can happen today.

It’s a risky plan, but Oscar’s never been one to shy away from a challenge. He’s already planned every detail down to the minute, ensuring that everything will be in place before you come home from work. The hardest part was keeping this a secret — and making sure the logistics didn’t fall through.

Money, thankfully, speeds things up.

Oscar pads back into the bedroom, careful not to make a sound as he crawls into bed beside you. His body is buzzing with excitement now, anticipation humming under his skin. He pulls you close, wrapping an arm around your waist, and rests his chin on your shoulder.

You let out a sleepy murmur, shifting slightly in his arms, and he presses a kiss to the back of your neck, his lips lingering there.

“Good morning,” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep.

“Good morning.” His voice is soft, but there’s an energy behind it that you don’t seem to catch. Not yet.

You blink a few times, still disoriented from sleep, and roll over to face him. "You're up early."

“Just couldn’t sleep,” he says with a small smile. “You have work today?”

“Yeah, I’ve got to go in for a meeting,” you reply, rubbing your eyes. “Shouldn’t be too long.”

Oscar nods, trying to keep his excitement in check. “Good, good. I’ll probably just do some stuff around here. Get a workout in.”

You stretch, still half-asleep, and he watches you with a soft smile. He wonders if you’ll notice the change when you get home, or if it’ll take a little prompting. Either way, the plan is in motion, and there’s no going back now.

***

As soon as you leave the apartment, Oscar is a man on a mission. He paces the living room, waiting for the delivery crew to arrive. He checks his phone constantly, looking at the notifications from Life360 to track your movements. He doesn’t have much time, and every minute feels like it’s slipping through his fingers.

Finally, there’s a knock at the door.

He practically sprints to open it, greeting the installation team with an eager wave. "You guys are here. Great, come on in."

The lead installer, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a no-nonsense expression, steps inside, glancing around. "So, we’ve got the specs here. Full ceiling mirror in the bedroom, right?"

Oscar nods, ushering them down the hallway to the bedroom. "Yeah, I need it to cover the entire ceiling. Exactly like we discussed."

The installer inspects the space, his eyes scanning the ceiling as he whistles under his breath. "Alright, shouldn’t be too complicated. We’ll need a couple of hours to get everything up and secured."

Oscar glances at his phone, calculating the time. You’ve been gone for about an hour. There’s a small window — tight, but doable. "That’s fine. Just make sure it’s done before two. She’ll be back around then."

The installer raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. "We’ll get it done."

Oscar watches as they bring in the equipment, laying down protective sheets to keep the floor clean. The mirror panels are large, delicate things, and the precision required for the installation is intense. He finds himself pacing the hallway, his hands shoved into his pockets as he listens to the distant sounds of drills and hammers.

Everything has to be perfect.

He knows it’s a bold move. Some might even call it crazy. But Oscar doesn’t care. He wants you to see yourself every day, to have no choice but to confront the truth: you’re stunning, exactly as you are. He doesn’t need you to be one of those women in the paddock, doesn’t need you to conform to some ridiculous image. You, in all your imperfections, are everything he could ever want.

He glances at his phone again — two hours left. The installers are moving quickly, efficiently, but it still feels like time is slipping away faster than he can keep up with.

The crew works in near silence, their movements calculated and precise. They measure the ceiling, check the panels, and begin the painstaking task of securing each mirrored piece in place. Oscar hovers nearby, watching them work, his nerves jangling like live wires.

“How much longer do you think?” He asks, not for the first time.

The lead installer doesn’t look up from his work, but his tone is patient. “We’re on schedule, mate. We’ve done this a hundred times. Just give us a bit.”

Oscar nods, forcing himself to step back. He paces again, trying to distract himself with his phone, but his mind keeps drifting back to you — to your face when you told him you didn’t feel like you measured up.

He needs this to be perfect. For you.

At long last, the sound of the drill ceases, and the lead installer steps back, wiping his hands on a rag. He surveys the ceiling with a critical eye, then turns to Oscar with a nod. "All done."

Oscar steps into the bedroom, and his breath catches in his throat.

The mirror covers the entire ceiling, gleaming and pristine, reflecting the room in perfect detail. It’s stunning — sleek, modern, but most importantly, it’s exactly what he envisioned.

“Looks great,” the installer says, clearly satisfied with the job.

Oscar nods, still staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah. It’s … perfect.”

The installers gather their things, and Oscar sees them out, barely able to contain his anticipation. He checks his phone one last time as the door closes behind them.

Life360 pings with a notification.

Y/N has arrived at home.

Oscar’s heart leaps into his throat. He has maybe five minutes before you walk through the door. He rushes back into the bedroom, doing a quick sweep to make sure everything is in place. The bed is made, the room is spotless, and the mirror … the mirror is flawless.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He can hear your footsteps approaching the door now, the jingle of your keys as you unlock it.

This is it.

The door opens, and you step inside, calling out, “Oscar? You here?”

“In the bedroom!” He calls back, trying to keep his voice steady, casual.

You walk down the hallway, setting your bag on the floor as you approach. “I thought you were working out or something.”

Oscar stands by the bed, watching as you enter the room. For a second, you don’t notice it. You’re too busy taking off your jacket, distracted by the mundaneness of the day.

But then, as you move toward the bed, your eyes flicker upward, and you freeze.

“What the …”

Your voice trails off, your gaze locked on the ceiling, on the massive mirror that now dominates the room. You stand there, stunned, your mouth slightly open as you take it in.

Oscar watches you closely, his heart pounding. He takes a step closer, his voice low, almost tentative. “What do you think?”

You blink, still staring at the reflection above you. “You … put a mirror on the ceiling?”

He nods, stepping behind you, his hands finding your waist, pulling you gently back against him. “I wanted you to see yourself.”

Your eyes flick to his in the reflection, confusion mingling with curiosity. “What do you mean?”

Oscar leans down, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice soft but firm. “Every day, you’re going to wake up, and you’re going to look at yourself. You’re going to see what I see. The most beautiful woman in the world.”

You swallow, your eyes wide, your breath catching in your throat. “Oscar …”

He turns you around slowly, guiding you until you’re facing him. “You don’t need to change a thing. Not your nose, not your body. Nothing. You’re perfect, just like this.”

Oscar’s hands slide from your waist to your hips, slow and deliberate. His eyes never leave yours, but in the mirror above, he can see the reflection of both of you, bodies so close, your breath mingling with his. There’s a moment of quiet between you, tension hanging in the air like a thread about to snap.

He leans down, his lips brushing your ear, his voice low and steady. “Let me show you.”

Your breath hitches, and you bite your lip, your eyes flicking between his face and the mirror. You don’t say anything, but you don’t resist, either. You’re standing still, waiting, nervous but trusting him completely.

Oscar takes his time. He starts by pulling at the hem of your shirt, his fingers brushing your skin as he lifts it slowly over your head. You lift your arms for him, and the shirt falls to the floor. His hands return to your hips, sliding up to your waist, fingers tracing the soft curve of your ribs, then higher.

You shiver under his touch, a soft gasp escaping your lips, but he doesn’t rush. He’s watching you in the mirror, your body, your face, your eyes — taking in every reaction, every small shift in your expression.

“Look at yourself,” he says softly, his voice firm but gentle. His fingers move to the clasp of your bra, and with a quick flick, it comes undone. He pulls it away, tossing it aside, and you’re left standing in front of him, exposed.

Your eyes flicker up to the mirror, but you don’t linger on your own reflection. You quickly glance back at Oscar, as if seeking reassurance.

His hands are on you again, warm and steady, guiding you back toward the bed. He lowers you gently onto the mattress, your body sinking into the softness of the sheets, and you feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness swirling in your chest.

Oscar climbs onto the bed with you, his movements controlled, deliberate. He kneels beside you, his eyes burning with something deep, something raw, as he looks down at you. The mirror above reflects everything — the way your chest rises and falls, the soft flush creeping up your neck, the way your body reacts to the intensity of his gaze.

He reaches for the waistband of your pants, his fingers sliding under the fabric. “Lift your hips,” he murmurs, and you do as he asks, allowing him to peel the material away from your skin. The cool air of the room makes you shiver, but it’s the warmth of his hands that sends a surge of heat through you.

Oscar lets out a quiet hum of approval, his gaze tracing the lines of your body, admiring every inch of you. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your belly, just above the waistband of your underwear, and you feel a jolt of electricity run through you.

“Look,” he whispers, his voice commanding yet soft. “Look at yourself.”

You hesitate, your eyes flicking toward the mirror but not quite settling on your reflection. You’re still unsure, still caught in the doubt that’s been gnawing at you for so long.

But Oscar won’t let you hide.

He trails his kisses up your body, his lips brushing the curve of your breast, then higher, to the sensitive skin near your collarbone. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his lips barely leaving your skin. “You’re perfect.”

You close your eyes, trying to absorb his words, trying to believe them, but the insecurity lingers.

Oscar’s hand moves lower, sliding down your body, his fingers grazing the waistband of your underwear again, but this time he tugs them down, pulling them off completely. You’re laid bare before him now, vulnerable, exposed, but you trust him. You trust him with everything.

He shifts, positioning himself between your legs, and you feel the heat of his body so close to yours. His hands find your thighs, gently parting them, and he leans down, his breath hot against your skin. His lips press a kiss to your inner thigh, and you shudder, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you.

“Oscar,” you whisper, your voice shaky.

He doesn’t respond with words. Instead, he moves higher, his mouth tracing a path up your thigh until his lips are where you need them most. The first touch of his tongue is slow, deliberate, and it sends a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body.

You gasp, your back arching slightly off the bed, your hands flying to grip the sheets tighter. He takes his time, his tongue moving in slow, measured strokes, teasing you, building the heat in your core until it feels like you’re going to unravel.

But he doesn’t let you. Not yet.

His hand moves up your body, finding your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple in the same slow, teasing rhythm. Your breath comes in ragged gasps now, and your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you.

“Look at yourself,” Oscar says again, his voice low and commanding. “Look at how beautiful you are.”

You force your eyes open, glancing up at the mirror. Your reflection stares back at you, your body laid out beneath Oscar, your skin flushed, your chest rising and falling rapidly. You see the way his hand moves over you, the way his mouth works between your legs, and it’s a surreal, intimate moment — seeing yourself through his eyes, the way he sees you.

You bite your lip, a moan escaping your throat as Oscar increases the pressure, his tongue circling that sensitive bundle of nerves in a way that makes your legs tremble. You feel the tension building inside you, the heat growing unbearable, but just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he pulls back.

You let out a desperate whimper, your hips bucking involuntarily toward him, but he doesn’t relent.

“Not yet,” he says, his voice firm. He leans up, his body hovering over yours now, his face inches from yours. “Not until you say it.”

You blink up at him, breathless and confused. “Say what?”

“Say you’re beautiful,” Oscar murmurs, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Say it, and I’ll let you come.”

Your heart races in your chest, the vulnerability of the moment crashing into you. You’ve never said those words, not out loud, not with any kind of conviction. But the way Oscar looks at you, the way his hands move over your body, it makes you want to believe it — makes you want to see yourself the way he does.

You swallow hard, your voice trembling as you whisper, “I’m beautiful.”

Oscar’s eyes darken with approval, but he’s not done. He presses his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Say it again. Louder.”

Your body is aching for release, every nerve on fire, but you know he won’t let you have it until you give him what he wants — what you need to believe.

“I’m beautiful,” you say again, louder this time, your voice shaky but filled with more certainty.

Oscar’s hand moves between your legs again, his fingers teasing you, his touch deliberate, precise. “Good girl,” he murmurs. “Now say it one more time. Like you mean it.”

You gasp as his fingers press against that bundle of nerves again, your body writhing beneath him, the pleasure so intense it’s almost unbearable. But you force yourself to say it, to believe it, because in this moment, you do.

“I’m beautiful,” you cry out, your voice breaking with the force of the admission.

And that’s when Oscar lets you go.

His mouth is on you again, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm, and the pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave. You arch off the bed, your hands flying to his hair, your body trembling as you finally, finally fall over the edge.

Oscar doesn’t stop. He keeps his pace steady, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from you, until you’re shaking, gasping for breath, your body limp and boneless beneath him.

When you finally come down, your chest heaving, your heart pounding in your ears, Oscar moves up beside you, his body pressing against yours, his arm wrapping around your waist.

He kisses your forehead, his voice soft but firm as he whispers, “You are the most beautiful woman in the world. Don’t ever forget that.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believe him.

[ellipsus-writes]

Ellipsus Digest: March 18

Each week (or so), we'll highlight the relevant (and sometimes rage-inducing) news adjacent to writing and freedom of expression.

This week: AI continues its hostile takeover of creative labor, Spain takes a stand against digital sludge, and the usual suspects in the U.S. are hard at work memory-holing reality in ways both dystopian and deeply unserious.

ChatGPT firm reveals AI model that is “good at creative writing” (The Guardian)

... Those quotes are working hard.

OpenAI (ChatGPT) announced a new AI model trained to emulate creative writing—at least, according to founder Sam Altman: “This is the first time i have been really struck by something written by AI.” But with growing concerns over unethically scraped training data and the continued dilution of human voices, writers are asking… why? 

Spoiler: the result is yet another model that mimics the aesthetics of creativity while replacing the act of creation with something that exists primarily to generate profit for OpenAI and its (many) partners—at the expense of authors whose work has been chewed up, swallowed, and regurgitated into Silicon Valley slop.

Spain to impose massive fines for not labeling AI-generated content (Reuters)

But while big tech continues to accelerate AI’s encroachment on creative industries, Spain (in stark contrast to the U.S.) has drawn a line: In an attempt to curb misinformation and protect human labor, all AI-generated content must be labeled, or companies will face massive fines. As the internet is flooded with AI-written text and AI-generated art, the bill could be the first of many attempts to curb the unchecked spread of slop.

Besos, España 💋

These words are disappearing in the new Trump administration (NYT)

Project 2025 is moving right along—alongside dismantling policies and purging government employees, the stage is set for a systemic erasure of language (and reality). Reports show that officials plan to wipe government websites of references to LGBTQ+, BIPOC, women, and other communities—words like minority, gender, Black, racism, victim, sexuality, climate crisis, discrimination, and women have been flagged, alongside resources for marginalized groups and DEI initiatives, for removal.

It’s a concentrated effort at creating an infrastructure where discrimination becomes easier… because the words to fight it no longer officially exist. (Federally funded educational institutions, research grants, and historical archives will continue to be affected—a broader, more insidious continuation of book bans, but at the level of national record-keeping, reflective of reality.) Doubleplusungood, indeed.

Pete Hegseth’s banned images of “Enola Gay” plane in DEI crackdown (The Daily Beast)

Fox News pundit-turned-Secretary of Defense-slash-perpetual-drunk-uncle Pete Hegseth has a new target: banning educational materials featuring the Enola Gay, the plane that dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima. His reasoning: that its inclusion in DEI programs constitutes "woke revisionism." If a nuke isn’t safe from censorship, what is?

The data hoarders resisting Trump’s purge (The New Yorker)

Things are a little shit, sure. But even in the ungoodest of times, there are people unwilling to go down without a fight.

Archivists, librarians, and internet people are bracing for the widespread censorship of government records and content. With the Trump admin aiming to erase documentation of progressive policies and minority protections, a decentralized network is working to preserve at-risk information in a galvanized push against erasure, refusing to let silence win.

Let us know if you find something other writers should know about, (or join our Discord and share it there!) Until next week, - The Ellipsus Team xo

[heartyluv]

💋⌖༺𓆩🍷𓆪༻

Rating: Explicit - !!Minors DO NOT Interact!!

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 2,839

Summary: Sylus hates being away from his wife, always has.

Reader/Husband!Sylus w/ Breeding Kink

You're so close and you can't wait to be where you belong. It's always hard to leave your husband and your home behind for any reason, but you haven't seen your best friend in so long that the trip to see her was needed. After two weeks in your hometown, you were now in the car Sylus sent for you, getting closer to being in his arms again.

Your phone rings in your purse and you fish inside the bag to answer it. The photo of Luke and Kieran posing with the peace sign is the first thing you see, making you smile.

You press the phone to your ear after accepting the call. "Hey, guys. Everything okay?"

"No, everything is not," Kieran mumbles. "This is the longest two weeks I've ever experienced. Boss Man has been so moody."

"Please tell us you're almost here," Luke says plainly.

"You're not used to Sylus' moods by now?" you joke.

"Of course we are. But we will never get used to how flip-floppy he can be about you. It's gross, yet oddly adorable... Please don't tell him I said that," Kieran pleads.

"What's he doing?" you ask curiously.

"That's the thing. He's doing nothing," Luke answers.

"Since you've been gone, he's been to himself. I know what you're thinking. 'Isn't that typical of the Boss?' Well yes, you are 100% correct. At least typical behavior with us. Boss cannot be without you for more than a second if he can help it. Anyways," Kieran sighs. "He hasn't made a sarcastic comment, joke, or insult during your entire absence. He's been the most... "regular" since you told him you were coming home today and even more so to see you're two minutes away," Kieran adds.

"How do you—?"

"Oh, you must know that he has a tracker on you."

Of course Sylus tracks you. It's not necessarily surprising, just newfound information.

"Tell him I'm—"

"Open the door, open the door! She's here!" Kieran screeches.

Your phone beeps, indicating the call has been disconnected. Yours and Sylus' home come into view, and you feel so giddy inside. The driver rounds the small bend of the driveway, putting the car in park, and steps out of the vehicle to help with your bags. Before you can even get your fingers to the handle, your door opens.

You turn your head to the right to see you husband, the smallest but ever so meaningful smile on his face. He for sure used his Evol to get here as quick as he did because he was not present when the car pulled up. His hand is out, reaching for you. You slide yours into his and he's pulling you as politely as he can muster to bring you closer to him.

He's in his long sleeve brown top that you bought him a few months ago and his tailored black slacks, making him represent the perfect combination of comfy and classy like he always does.

He doesn't say a word, not at first. Immediately when he has you close enough, his hand cups the side of your head and he dips his to kiss your lips. The kiss is hungry and desperate. He doesn't give a damn who's around and who's watching him suck your tongue into his mouth.

This is his house, his choice, and most of all, his fucking woman.

He growls and you feel the rumble in his chest vibrate against your own with how pressed together you are.

"Sylus—" You try and speak, but he's engulfing your mouth with even more vigor as if your voice has only spurred him on more.

He realizes he needs to let you breathe, knows that he's likely making your whole body flush with embarrassment, but he can't seem to care. It's only when you bite down on his lip a little too hard, forcing him to pull back, does he finally look into your eyes.

You can barely breathe and just like he thought, your cheeks are tinged red and you're breathing deeply. You lick your lips, your smile uncontainable when his piercing red eyes bore into your large ones.

"My apologies, kitten," he finally speaks. "Can you blame your husband for being so eager?" His thumb trails your lips, mixing his saliva and yours.

"I missed you too, handsome," you respond once your breath finally stabilizes. The driver announces that he'll be on his way, and you close your eyes as if it'll make you disappear, hoping that he didn't pay attention to the way Sylus kissed you.

Who are you kidding? Even if the poor old man didn't look, he definitely heard it and is most definitely judging a little bit.

Sylus makes the hesitant decision to separate from you for a moment to tip the driver before he departs. He thanks the both of you, tipping his hat, and you two watch the red headlights depart away from your home after he got inside the car.

Sylus gets close to you again, seemingly ready to take you right here on the driveway pavement, but Luke and Keiran come running out the house, exclaiming with happiness that you're back.

"Thank god you're here. Please, fix him," Kieran exclaims.

Sylus sighs, shaking his head at his—what he deems—ridiculous behavior, but if you were in their shoes, you're sure you would've been feeling the same way.

"Bring her bags inside. Take a car and one of my cards for the next few days. Don't come back until I instruct you to," Sylus commands and all of you damn near snap your necks to look at him.

The twins chuckle, nudging at each other before throwing your husband a loud "yes sir". They both make quick moves to grab your things and Sylus holds your hand as he guides you into your shared lavish home. Kieran is the first back out the door after showing Sylus what card he took, and Luke shuts the door behind himself after following his brother's lead.

"Why are they leaving?" you ask, but you know the answer. How could you not?

Sylus tilts his head in amusement, licking his lips. "Are you hungry?"

"Not particularly..." you breathe.

"Hm," he hums. The radiant glow of the descending sun is the only light you have to see his face, to see the mischief he has written all over it. "But I am, sweetie. A treat such as yourself could satiate a hungry man like me."

He kisses you again, barely giving you the chance to respond. He's quick to kiss your jaw, then your neck. His tongue traces your skin, holding you up so that you don't crumble before him.

"Do you know how insane I've been without you?" He bites the section where your neck and shoulder meet. "The way I ached for you..." He inhales your scent deeply. "It must be what Ares felt when he was separated from Aphrodite."

Your body shudders. He chuckles smugly at that. "Tell your husband how much you missed him, kitten."

Your hand snakes up to trail into his white-gray hair. He sucks on the places he knows makes your panties flood, decorating your neck with love bites. "I missed you so much," you tell him truthfully through your lust. "Thought about you every day..."

"You did, did you?" he teases, peeling your cardigan down your shoulders. "I don't know, I'm not convinced. Perhaps actions truly do speak louder than words. Shall we put it to the test?"

As if you weigh nothing, he picks you up and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. You've seen this man lift couches over his shoulder as if he was moving a single bag of groceries. It's insane— and it makes you want to let him do every filthy thing possible to you.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Sylus brought the both of you to the upstairs bathroom and you stand behind him like a lost puppy as he cuts the water on, steam pooling out of the grand shower. He removes his clothes first and you watch as every single article of clothing is thrown to the side. You can't help but to stare at his cock, hard and standing tall.

He then approaches you, gently peeling off your own clothing. After you're naked before him, he takes you inside to stand beneath the pouring stream of water. "Tell me about your trip."

Behind you, you hear movements as your voice shakily attempts to tell him what you and your friend did while you were away. He hums every so often in response, to let you know that he really is listening. Then his large hands come into view in front of you. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, not sure of what he's getting ready to do. Your words are cut off when his hands grab handfuls of your breasts, making you arch your back, and your ass press against his aching cock.

He groans as the soap begins to lather, as he runs his hands all over you. Your soaped breasts are his erotic sight. His wedding ring trails over your nipple as he massages you, causing you to call out his name.

"Don't stop, kitten," he whispers lowly. "Keep going."

"Sylus, please..." you beg. You know exactly what you want from him, but to put it into words feels impossible.

"Please, what? Speak to me. Tell me what you want." He licks your ear.

"Please... I need you."

He tsks, bringing his head down to kiss your shoulder. "I'm a man who requires details before I act. Tell me more."

"I need you to fuck me... I need you inside of me," you beg sheepishly.

"My good girl," he praises. "But what about me? You left your poor husband all alone. What about what I need?"

"What do you need? I'll do anything.."

"Anything?" he chuckles and you feel him smirk against your neck.

He grabs your wrists, pinning them behind you with his Evol. You're thrown off and the whole shower is long forgotten when mixes of black and red energy constrict your wrists. He kneels in front of you, taking your foot and bracing it on the shower bench.

"Then feed your husband, sweetie." His mouth attacks your hot cunt, your soft curls tickling his nose as he ravages you. His tongue is skilled and determined as he drinks your juices like a man on the verge of dehydration. You shake and writhe, struggling to stand upright. But Sylus has you, he'll never let you fall.

His hands grab at your ass, pulling you closer as he sucks your throbbing clit into his mouth.

"Baby... I can't, holy fuck.." you pant, moaning and whining. Your sounds echo off the tile walls and with no one here, you have zero hesitancy to be loud.

"You can," he encourages through heavy breaths. "You said you'd do anything. So, be good for me and let me taste my sweet wife's cum."

His words are filthy and so fulfilling. You want to touch him, want to press him deeper, but your bound hands prevent you like a punishment. Your orgasm approaches and he can feel you constrict around his tongue, making his efforts double.

You can't even warn him that you're about to come because it hits you before you're even ready. Your thighs shake, your body nearly doubles over, and your pussy sings for him as he swallows all of you down. He kisses your weeping cunt as you start to come down then you jolt when he licks at your sensitive clit one last time.

"Please, Sylus baby. I want to touch you. I need to feel you.." You look down at him and he kisses your thighs, then your stomach, all the way up to your wet breasts.

"Maybe you have a gift, my sweet." He licks his lips, biting them as if he'd needs another fix of the ambrosia between your legs. "Your actions and your words could move mountains."

He kisses you and your hands are still bound. You taste your heady scent on his tongue, but you're so frustrated that it nearly brings you to tears. He senses this, knows this, and the relief that washes over you as your hands are released is inexplicable. You immediately grab at his neck, then his hair. You just want to be close to him.

He lifts you up, pressing your back against the cool tile wall, but your body is so hot that the pinch of cold fades immediately. "Put me in, kitten," he looks into your eyes. "Bring me home."

You nod feverishly, looking down between the two of you. His cock is leaking. If you don't get him inside you now, you're convinced you will actually cry.

You wrap your hand around his thick length, feeling the veins that will be inside you in milliseconds. He helps you, jutting his hips forward and the tip of him opens you up like a flower. You gasp, biting your lip as he gets deeper, as you and him become one.

He starts to rock his hips and his pace is excruciatingly slow. "I want to put my baby inside you," he admits as his hips start to increase in speed, giving you what you need. The declaration makes you clench around him.

"Does my wife like that?" he presses his forehead to yours. "My baby in your stomach, my ring on your finger, my money in your pockets. Everything I am, everything I own, it belongs to you, doesn't it?"

Your emotions are at an all time high. "Yes... I want it. I want to have your baby, Sylus..." You can barely speak right.

"You'd do me the honor, wouldn't you? You'd let me fill you with my cum until it's leaking out of you, then you'd let me fuck it back into all over again until it takes."

His tip kisses your cervix ever so lightly as he slams into you with purpose. The sound of skin slapping together is orgasm inducing and your flesh ripples deliciously in his hands. He uses his Evol for a moment to keep you up and still as one of his hands comes to your stomach, pressing down. "You can feel me, hm? Feel how well we fit? We know how perfect we are together. Let's find out how even better we are when we mix."

You need it. You want it. You crave it. You need to have the family you and him have always talked about. And you need his cum so desperately that you'd get on your knees and beg. But you don't need to beg. Not when he's more than willing to give.

His hands come back to you and his thrusts become stronger, more ruthless, and your body welcomes every brutal motion. "Hold it," he demands as he feels you tighten uncontrollably. And you do. You hold it like your life depends on it.

He caresses your flushed cheek. "My sweet kitten. You listen so well for me, don't you?" You nod quickly, unable to speak to the man who's taking your breath away.

"Listen well for me one more time." His cock pulses and each vein massages the inside of you. "Come for me again. Reward your husband."

You don't need to be asked again as you scream for him, your body relieved to let out what it could no longer hold. Sylus knows how much you need him, need contact, so he brings you close and you grab at him while he groans in your ear, his own release painting your walls and filling you up. You're astounded that he's not falling to the floor because if it were you depending on your legs right now, you'd be a melted mess as much as you are in his arms.

You feel how his cum warms you. With bated breath, you tilt back your head to see your husband not as collected as you initially believed. He's just as much of a mess as you are. His cheeks and ear tips are red and his hard chest is rising and falling in quick succession. Even now, he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. He brings you both to the bench, sitting on it with him still nestled deeply inside of you.

The water has been running the whole time, likely cold but you and him couldn't care less. You rest your head on his shoulder.

"Staying together like this could increases our chances of pregnancy, no?" he whispers before kissing your head.

You chuckle. "I hope so."

“I really did miss you,” he mumbles into your hair. “Deeply.”

It's quiet for a moment. "I did, too.” You kiss his chest. “And I meant it, Sylus. I really do want that, want this. To start a family with you."

"I meant it too, my love. Every last word."

"Yeah?"

"Of course." He cups your face to bring your pretty eyes to him. "And I don't plan on stopping until it happens."

It already made sense why he had the twins leave, but now? It definitely makes sense. You would not know rest these next few days and you couldn't think of a better way to be welcomed home.

[aninonimosstuff-blog]

OH MY FUCKING GOD THIS IS AMAZING!!! WHAT THE FUCK MAN OMG OMG OMG OMG AAAHHHHHH IM GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET OMG THIS IS SO GOOD AND GOES SO HARD AAAAAAUUURRGGGHHHHH AND YES NO PROBLEM DUDE MY TURBO IS BISEXUAL!!!! (MEANWHILE FAST IS PAN) MY SILLY TURBO IS BI BCS HE WAS WITH FELIX BEFORE BEING WITH FAST OOPS LORE DROP

OMG THE LIGHTING IS FIRE I NEVER THOUGHT I WOULD GET ANOTHER DRAWING FOR U ABOUT MY TURBO AND THIS IS SO GOOD UGH

OH IM SERIOUS NOW, YOU GOT ME AND NOW IM SERIOUS ABOUT THESE TWO I LOVE THISSSS AAAUUGHHHHHH I ALLOW U TO DO WHATEVER YOU WISH WITH MY UGLY AHH TURBO

LIKE WHO CARES IF HE IS CHEATING!!! FAST IS CHEATING HIM TOO!!!! WHOOPS!!

THE MEME ITS SO GOOD IM SAVING ALL OF THESE AAARRGHHHHH

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS AMAZING MEAL IM EATING THIS SO GOOD OM NOM NOM BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK

When you hate the one character so much, you start to draw them in the suspicious situations. [ @aninonimosstuff-blog ]

( Please, don’t get too serious with it. It’s purely just for entertaining )

Fr, I don’t even sure F! Turbo is cool with men or not, but my hands are already drawing it. So, I’m trying my best to make it can be seen in a two way, homo or not-

Now, this is his karma of abusing Fast. Get flirting by yourself, bi*th

Also, a shit post I made