#like i don’t need permission but it’s nice to have permission

[dixons-sunshine]

If you’re taking requests: I saw an edit on TikTok of Daryl and Merle. It was Merle hitting on the reader and it uses the “would you look at the time, I’ve gotta get home and sleep with your brother” audio, I was wondering if you could do a fic, even a short one, with that kinda vibe / theme.

If your request aren’t open, just stopping by to say I love your page ❤️

The Great Escape | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Merle Dixon made no secret of his interest in you, making you aware of that with his vulgar comments. However, you had no interest in him, and he just couldn’t seem to accept that. Thankfully, Daryl was there to help you out, even if your accidental slip of the tongue could have potentially pissed the older Dixon off.

Genre: I don’t really know.

Era: Pre Apocalypse.

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive innuendos towards the end.

Word count: 1.2k.

A/N: I love that sound on TikTok. It’s hilarious to me. I hope this is an okay attempt at that sort of vibe! This was written in under an hour so this could potentially not be that great. And thank you so much, my love 💜.

The need to escape increased with each second that ticked on the metaphorical clock. You continuously shifted your weight from one leg to the other as you prayed to whatever higher entity was listening that you could flee from the awkward predicament you were unwillingly partaking in. You kept checking the time on your watch, wishing that the small metal object that rested snuggly around your wrist could help you vanish from the comments Merle Dixon was making towards you.

It was no secret to the man in front of you that none of the women in the bar you worked at liked him. Each night, like clockwork, the Dixon brothers rolled into the bar, and as soon as the older one even lays an eye on one of the female bartenders, vulgar comments gets spewed left and right. And at that particular moment in time, you were the target of Merle’s objectification.

“M’tellin’ ya, girl. I ain’t never seen anyone with an ass that bounces like yers. S’enough to make any man hungry to see more,” Merle drunkenly slurred on, leisurely sipping on his beer as he leaned against the counter top. If he leaned any closer, he would be able to peer down your shirt, and that knowledge made you uncomfortable.

“Um... Thank you?” you ‘thanked’ him, your eyes nervously darting around as you hoped to lock eyes with those familiar cerulean ones you had grown to love looking at. Daryl Dixon had been your saviour from Merle countless times before, and you hoped to be able to have his help again. And you would be able to see that beautiful smile of his when he inevitably walks you to your car, so that was a nice plus.

“Yer welcome, sweet cheeks,” Merle laughed, doing what you had feared and leaned closer. However, you managed to back up just in time, preventing him from seeing what you didn’t want him to. You doubted that the man had intentionally wanted to look down your shirt, though, and your suspicions were proven correct when he had reached for the bowl of Doritos you kept behind the counter. Merle Dixon could be a nasty guy, but even he knew there were boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed with permission.

“Tell you what,” Merle began, his eyes sparkling as he looked at you, snapping you from your thoughts. “How ‘bout the two’a us ditch this joint and find a nice motel for the night? I promise ya won’t regret it.”

Your eyes widened at his innuendo. In a last ditch effort to free yourself from his advances, you looked around again to see if you could find Daryl. Thankfully, by some stroke of luck, you managed to find his eyes.

His eyes scanned over your face, and he could instantly read the distress on your features. His eyes darted to Merle, and then back to you, and he instantly realized what you meant. “Dinner?” he mouthed to you, like he always did whenever you needed to escape. Parking at the bar was practically nonexistent, so you always parked your car by this small diner down the street. More often than not, he’d buy you both a burger and fries, saving you the need to make dinner at two in the morning.

With one last glance at your watch, you noticed your shift had ended, just in time, too. “Um... I’m sorry. I can’t,” you told him, grabbing your bag from the floor and slinging it over your shoulder. Then, without even fully realizing what you said next, you began to walk away. “I’ve gotta go and sleep with your brother.”

Eat. You had fully intended to say eat. However, the damage was already done, and you had to stick with it. You scrambled to get away from Merle’s piercing glare, aware of the fact that you had just royally pissed him off.

“Yer gon’ fuckin’ what?!” he bellowed loudly. A few heads turned to look at the commotion, but you had already started making yourself scarce.

You practically sprinted towards Daryl, grabbing his hand and pulling him with you. You missed the way his cheeks flushed bright red at the feeling of your hand in his, too occupied with getting out of that place. Once outside, you let go of Daryl’s hand, though your pace didn’t falter.

Daryl jogged a few steps to fall into pace with you, and only then did he notice the embarrassed look on your face. “What’s wrong? What’d Merle do?”

You shook your head. “Nothing out of the usual. I’m fine.” You turned your head to look at Daryl, a sheepish smile on your face. “Although Merle might be pissed at you when you get home tonight?”

Daryl cocked an eyebrow at that. “Why? What’d I do?”

“It’s not anything you did. It’s what he thinks you did.” With a heavy sigh, you continued. “I might have accidentally told him I was gonna go sleep with you instead of eat...”

Daryl’s eyes widened at your statement, his heart beginning to gallop in his chest. However, he forced himself to appear nonchalant. He scoffed and turned his head away, thanking the night sky for its particular darkness that night, because it meant you wouldn’t be able to see how his cheeks burned with a heat that outranked that of the sun.

“Well, would ya look at that?” he began, his tone adapting a more playful one, both in an attempt to make you feel better and to lessen his own embarrassment. “Looks like Merle ain’t got nothin’ on me after all. I managed to snag a good-lookin’ one, too. M’damn lucky.”

You laughed at him, your pace slowing down when you noticed the diner coming into view. “Be sure to sing my praise to your brother. Let him know what he can’t have. Make him really jealous.” In a surge of confidence, you turned to him with a mischievous smile. “I’ve been told my head game is really good. Be sure to expand on that.”

“Christ almighty, girl,” he muttered to himself, his head ducking as a way to shield his blazing cheeks, and the curiosity in his eyes at your statement. Just how good was good? “Ya sure know how to make a man curious.”

You giggled softly at him. Cleverly sensing that any more teasing would have the man in front of you combusting from sheer embarrassment, you decided to change the topic. “How about I buy dinner tonight? It’s the least I can do to make up for the awkwardness you’re gonna experience once you get home.”

“More like a good yellin’ at,” Daryl told you, but he shrugged his shoulders and sent you a small, lopsided smile. “But sure.”

With that, the two of you walked into the diner. However, instead of getting takeout like you usually would, the two of you opted to take a seat in one of the booths, basking in the privacy that the late hour provided you. The two of you shared your meals over faint laughter, shared jokes, and even some flirting here and there, which was a stark difference from Daryl’s usually shy demeanour.

Daryl ended up going home with you, and he may or may not have gotten to expand on his curiosity at your earlier comment.

[maxillness]

╰┈➤Mafia AU, chap 1 || SP11

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, oral (f), fingering, slight sub!checo

Wordcount: 2k

I’m starting this new mafia AU series where there’s a different parring for each chapter. There isn’t gonna be a regular upload, but more when I feel like writing it and I don’t know how many chapters there’s gonna be

Masterlist

If she knew how this day would turn out, she had prepared some more, but in her industry, everything can slip out of plan, and into the soggy sink

That was all she could think about as she stood in the kitchen, looking down into the soggy sink ‘This could be my life in a matter of seconds’

“Y/N, my father would like to speak with you” She turned around at the sound of Lance’s voice. Her boss’ son

Her heart dropped to her stomach. Last time anyone in the house heard the words, they lost a member of their family

“Sure” She sighed as she stepped away from the sink

As she walked up the big stairs, she kept thinking about the soggy sink she just walked away from

Her breathing was heavy as she stood in front of the office door. She tried to calm down before she knocked on the wooden door

She heard a faint confirmation that she could walk in “Lance said you wanted to speak with me” She was visibly nervous, her hands shaking as her steps were uncoordinated

“Yes. Close the door and sit down” She did as told, sitting down in the chair in front of him “Anything to drink?” He asked which she shook her head slightly to

He poured himself a glass of something and put a few ice cubes in it, taking a sip of it. They held eye contact for what felt like hours

She hesitated to speak as she wasn’t given permission to, but the silence was killing her every nerve “What did you want to speak about?”

“I’m stepping down” He sighed, earning him a surprised look from the woman opposite to her “I want you to take over for me”

Her mouth hung slightly open, unable to get words out, she managed anyways “You want… me, to take over for you?” He nodded slightly “Me? Why not Lance? He’s your son after all”

“You’re the best there is, and you’re young, you have a lot of years ahead of you if you get this position, besides, Lance is…” He shrugged “Lance. Let’s keep him as our driver, no?”

“I might not approve of your so called interrogation method, but you’re a good at your job nonetheless, and I want you to take over for me. And I bet, after a short while, you’ll lay down Alonso, getting all his dirty secrets out” He had always spoke softly to her. She was the only he spoke soft to

“Okay” It was the only word she could manage to get out as she nodded slightly, taken aback by his sudden retirement from the industry

“Also because none from Alonso’s side really knows who you are, and if they do, they don’t have a face to associate with the name” He said leaning back in his chair

“Well… My method has always worked, no?” She chuckled, shrugging slightly, to which Lawrence agreed “When?”

“End of the week” He answered “I’m just missing a few boxes to pack”

“End of the week? It’s Wednesday” She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest

“You can get the big bedroom?” He suggested “And you get this office”

“It is a nice office… Are you leaving the alcohol behind?” She asked cheekily

“You can keep the good stuff” He answered with a chuckle

Lawrence had some knucklehead hired to help moving furniture. Sergio or some shit, she didn’t really care

He was pretty though

“Can I keep him?” She asked, sitting down on the edge of the porch beside Lawrence

“Checo? Sure” He chuckled, taking a sip of his whisky “You gotta convince him to stay though, he’s an old friend, but you won’t have trouble anyways” He chuckled again

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head slightly with a soft smile “I’ll miss you” She sighed softly

“Don’t go soft. You got a family to protect now” He said, looking into the garden, watching as most of the family was in the pool, having fun

“Besides, if you have to take the Alonso family down, you need to be tough, Y’know” He said “And I can’t really get up from this porch by myself” He added with a chuckle

“Right” She smiled, standing up before helping Lawrence up

“First day tip; a bird told me Alonso is using George Washington University Hospital” He told her “And I’m guessing the rest of the family is too” He said, clicking his tongue twice

“George Washington you say?” She hummed “I’ll check it out… Tomorrow though. I’ll relax today” She chuckled

“Ma’am?” She looked up from where she was lounging in the sun bed, looking up at a sweaty Checo

“Yes?” She asked, biting her bottom lip softly

“Um… I got it all moved around. The bedroom and the office” He stuttered slightly, blushing softly

“Yeah? Let me see. Help me up” She said, giving him her hand so he could help her up “You got some soft hands” She hummed, feeling his hands

“Oh, um… Thanks, I guess” She smiled softly before she walked back into the house and up to the office

“Nice” She nodded slightly as she looked around the office “And the bedroom too?” Checo nodded, following her to the bedroom

She opened the door to the bedroom, seeing all of Lawrence’s stuff gone, and hers there instead “What’d you do to Lawrence’s stuff? He didn’t want it with him” She asked, stepping into the room, looking out of the window

“He wanted me to sell it” He nodded, walking up beside her, his side leaning against the window

“Sell it? Hm” She hummed “You want to stay for dinner?” She asked, her finger trailing down his chest, a cheeky smile on her lips

“Dinner? I- um. Lawrence wouldn’t want that” He stuttered, turning all shades of pink

“Lawrence isn’t here anymore” She smiled “Please, stay. It’s the least I can do for all the trouble, Y’know? Pay you back” She stepped closer to him, pushing him softly against the window, his head turned to the side

“Unless you want me to pay you some other way of course” She leaned further in, her breath panning over his neck

“D-dinner’s fine” He stuttered between heavy breaths

“No fun” She sighed but, gave him a short and soft kiss to his pulse point, earning her a slight whine

She stepped back “Dinner’s in 30 minutes” She sighed before turning around, but Checo had grabbed her hand, pulling her back against him

“I could use a tip though” He said, his lips brushing against hers “Don’t get paid a lot with this job”

She leaned in, kissing him softly, Checo kissed her back immediately, his hand on the back of her head

She tucked at his hair, pulling him away from the kiss “Don’t have time for that. After dinner though” She said, patting his cheek softly before walking away from him

Dinner was quick. Before she knew it, she had Checo pressed up against the bedroom door, mouths against each other messily

She stepped back, pulling Checo with her, pushing him to the ground as she sat on the edge of the bed

He immediately got to removing her pants and her panties, throwing them carelessly away

Checo kissed up her inner thighs, his hands tight on her waist under her shirt which she quickly got rid of

She pulled on his hair, pushing him closer into her, and he luckily got the hint, his tongue immediately working on her clit, his hand tighter on her waist

“Fuck. Just like that” She moaned softly, her head thrown back, her other hand grasping at the sheets beneath her

She started moaning a little louder as he pushed in two of his fingers, immediately starting to curl them upwards

She rolled her hips, moving against his tongue and fingers, her orgasm already nearing

“Fuck, yes. God. You’re good” She moaned, her thighs starting to shake slightly around Checo’s head

Her hand tightened in his hair, pulling slightly at the locks as she came around his fingers and tongue

He rode out her orgasm before he pulled out and away from her, standing up to push her back onto the bed, each of his knees on either side of her, his hands working on his belt

She took his hands into her own, stopping him “Stay. Come be a part of the family” She panted slightly

“What?” He asked confused, his accent slightly thicker than it was before

“Come on. I think you’ll be useful” She shrugged slightly “You’ll get your own bedroom and bathroom” She added

“I-I don’t know” He sighed, looking down at her

“Come on. Stay” She bit her lip slightly, her hands trailing down his torso, landing on his waistband, slowly undoing the button, his breathing hitching

“Okay, okay. I’ll stay” He said once she had finally gotten her hand wrapped around his cock, slowly starting to jerk him off

“Good choice. Come on” She said, scooting back into the middle of the bed, curling her finger to the tell him to come closer

He crawled further into the bed, his body placed in between her legs, his cock lined up with her entrance

She locked her legs around his hips, Checo’s hand on her back, unhooking her bra, throwing it to the floor

Her arms hooked around his neck, his own hands on her upper waist, slowly pushing into her, his face hidden in the crook of her neck

His hips started slow and soft, but quickly became faster and harder

Her nails dug into his shoulder blades, praises falling off of her tongue that made the Mexican whine and whimper

Her words were soon incoherent between her moans as she started feeling Checo twitch inside her, pulling her closer to her second orgasm

“You feel so good” She moaned softly, her mouth just by his ear

“Please. Can I come inside you?” His voice was mumbled against her skin and covered with a whine, but she understood him

“Yes. Yes, you can” She nodded, and not another second went by before he stilled his hips, coming inside her, his thighs shaking slightly

Another second went by before she came around him, her body shaking again, his name falling off her tongue softly

He collapsed softly on top of her, still buried inside her

Her hands caressed his sweaty back, nails ghosting over his tanned skin

“Will this happen again?” He asked softly, grunting as he slowly pulled out of her

“Probably not” She sighed “You can take a shower. I need to do something really quick” She stood up from the bed, getting her panties on and a night gown “You can sleep in here as well” She said before leaving the room

She walked down the hall, knocking on the door she knew was Lewis’. She heard a faint come in before she opened the door

She saw Lewis sitting on his bed with a book, and what looked like to be a sleeping Nico beside him

“Asleep?” She asked in a soft voice towards Nico

“Mhm. I take it he’s staying?” Lewis asked with a cheeky smile

“Yeah. For now. Tomorrow, show him what’s what?” She asked softly, making sure not to wake Nico

“Yeah. Of course” The Brit nodded “He’a not staying, by the way” He said, motioning to Nico

“Oh, I don’t mind. I know what Lawrence was like, but really. He can stay as long as he want and as long as he doesn’t get in the way” She whispered

“Thank you” He said with soft eyes, and a slight smile

“Of course. Anyway, good night” She said, walking out of the room, closing the door behind her

She walked back into the bedroom after her shower, seeing Checo in bed but not asleep

“Tomorrow, Lewis is gonna show you what’s what, and then I’m sending you out with him to get something for me” She said, getting under the sheets

“Lewis?” He asked confused

“The dark handsome one? He was at dinner? British?” “Oh, him. Yeah, sure. No problem” He answered

[daisychainsandbowties]

Confession: I have never read any Percy Jackson anything. I have no idea what the rules are, and I don’t care I just want more Hades’ daughter Lilith and Athena’s daughter Beatrice

oh i love love love writing Lilith as a daughter of Hades and Bea as a child of Athena. the parallels of Lilith belonging to death, the fact that she is a girl full of ghosts with a certain monstrous aspect, but also despite her best efforts she’s so so incredibly kind (everyone say thank you mary and shannon).

she probably definitely plays fetch with Cerberus when she’s in her cringe hell-hovel marinating after a month of deeply self-loathing heroism up on the surface.

and then Bea as a child of Athena 🥺 in the books a notable child of Athena has a yankees baseball cap that lets her turn invisible. smth smth beatrice making herself unseen and then stepping into ava’s light. and Athena is all cold rationality and strategy but in the books there’s a certain unhingedness to her children as well and it’s 😌 so extremely beatrice. she has weird girlfriend vibes the whole way to the ceiling.

also you are really not alone in not knowing all the rules lmao. it’s been at least a decade since i read the percy jackson books. but when i get things wrong i, like a proper adult, pretend that i was actually being really clever

example i forgot that demigods can’t have electronics (admittedly, chapter 1 was written at 2am over an entire pot of coffee with more love than sense) because it attracts monsters but i gave lilith a phone literally to make a joke about a snake eating it. did i own this mistake and edit the fic? no. 😌

i just decided i was right the whole time actually because lilith is suuuuuch a weirdo freak she would have phone specifically to attract monsters, on purpose, to feed her specific brand of haunted by the narrative/ ‘oops i self-inflicted the horrors. will be doing it again.’

[hasarjunadoneanythingwrong]

Hello mod of HADAW blog, idk why but I feel like it's now the good time to actually send you this before I backpedal out of embarrassment uhhh (I have never sent any asks before besides to the cfs blog-)

I actually just want to thank you for all the efforts you have been putting in your blog, is all. Before I actually tried posting art of Arjuna here, I have skimmed through your blog (this sounds so weird jsjsjsh) and, well, it feels like to me that you, among other bloggers, have made my experience on Tumblr a good one again, in regards of Arjuna contents. Idk how long I will stay here but I'm glad this time isn't so bad.

Clearly, I'm not good with wording and this has sounded better in my head but... Thank you for creating your own contents for Arjuna(s), with all the silly to memey to distinct-with-seriously-dedicated-effort arts, facts, spitting facts, aggressively thirst posts, reblogging other Arjuna related posts with enthusiastic commentaries in the hastags (you probably don't know but I appreciate this a lot) and so on so on... I give my kudos to you!!

Oh also thank you for scanning the official materials of Arjuna(s) as well. I feel guilty but I admit in saving them secretly and storing them away in Google Drive as references for drawing the bae(s). They just really helped me a lot sjsgjwbve forgive me,,,,,, SO, that's all, now I will skiddadoo away. Have a good day!

OH MY GOD THIS IS SUCH A GREAT ASK

Anon this blog is 100% for people like you. I love arjuna SO much, and while he has lots of different types of content in the jp fandom most of the other English arjuna artists are on other sites nowadays so I wanted to provide something for tumblr. I like to switch between all sorts of art (funny, sad, sexy, serious, epic, goofy) bc I want to show people his different sides and kinds of appeal that i feel from him. I also wanted a place where I could support (and gush) over all the talented arjuna artists that are here! (Bc there’s really talented people aaaa)

He’s such a lovely character and I wanted to talk about all the different things I’d learned about him and how important he was to me, and to try and see if I could get some more people to appreciate him! He got kind of a rough start in fate with how they handled him but I think that even with that he has a lot of good qualities that shine through and he deserves the world a little love from people

I love him! And I’m glad that this blog has been nice for other people who love him! It mostly started as a place where I could quarantine my massive love for him so I’m happy to know the stuff I’ve put here is useful for others ;v; overall I’ve had a lot of fun here and I hope for however long you stay you have a nice time too!

[r0semultiverse]

do you think I would piss off chronically online people if I told y’all I almost had sexual affairs with a GILF once? 😜 (REAL)

[thewispsings]

please date my sister in law | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: the one where charles won’t rest until he gets his fiancée’s sister a boyfriend.

liked by maxverstappen1, yoursistersuser, 806,026 others!

charles_leclerc: are you a hot and single guy OR woman in monaco looking for the perfect lady? well boy do i have good news for you! here we have yn ln, my sister-in law, she’s VERY single, likes long walks on the beach, napping, eating, and knitting. if you are interested please comment below! SERIOUS OFFERS ONLY.

view comments below!

yourusername: what the fuck is this charles

charles_leclerc: this is me getting you a boyfriend?

yourusername: NO CHARLES THIS IS JUST NO. @/yoursistersuser TAKE HIS PHONE?

yoursistersuser: I HAVE BUT HE JUST KEEPS BUYING MORE

charles_leclerc: i cannot be stopped

user1: i’m interested?

charles_leclerc: no you are too ugly

yourusername: cha please stop

charles_leclerc: i will stop once i get you a nice PRETTY boyfriend

yoursistersuser: love, please delete this

charles_leclerc: i would do anything for you… except deleted this. yn needs a bf, she’s been to lonely lately

yoursistersuser: but this doesn’t help her get a boyfriend charles

charles_leclerc: but it will!! have faith

user2: he’s trying to sell her like she’s a dog?? 😭

user3: “likes long walks on the beach, napping, eating” IS SHE A DOG CHARLES??

user4: this is borderline weird and thoughtful at the same time

user5: charles get engaged and goes crazy

user6: i’m interested!

charles_leclerc: no you are far too short

yourusername: what’s the point of this if you’re just going to reject everyone

charles_leclerc: i need to pick someone suitable, i don’t need someone ugly or short ruining my wedding pictures

yourusername; then how about you delete this and don’t have to worry about “someone ugly or short ruining my wedding pictures”

charles_leclerc; but i don’t want you alone and sad in the pictures either!

user7: yn doesn’t have a bf?? she’s gorgeous

user8: charles you work with 19 perfectly rich, fine, and tall?? (not really, depends) men, set her up with them

user9: girl half of those men are taken

user8: okay so like 8 rich, fine, and tall (??) men, those are still lots of chances

oscarpiastri: what is going on?

charles_leclerc: are you interested oscar? because you’d be my top pick.

oscarpiastri: i’m too busy with racing for relationships right now, sorry!

yourusername: i just got rejected in front of the whole world through my brother-in law. CHARLES PLEASE STOP THIS

user9: hey so this is crazy!

user10: it’s cute that he cares enough about this too make a whole post

yourusername: charles please stop i’m getting so many dick pics

user12: gross

user13: oh that’s not…

user14: #freeyn

user15: why is he trying to sell her like a dog

user16: if this actual works, i fear we will never hear the end of it from charles

charles_leclerc: all those who are sending dick pics to my sister-in law WILL be reported for harassment. you are lucky my fiancé is holding me back from posting your small dicks all over social media.

user17: POST THE SMALL DICKS CHARLES, DO IT

user18: STOP HOLDING HIM BACK!! LET HIM BE FREE

user19: when he’s protective over his soon to be family >>

user20: three days into summer break and charles has gone crazy

yourusername: i gave you permission to propose to my sister and this is how you repay me?

yoursistersuser: we’re stuck with him for this rest of our lives 😓

yourusername: please, don’t remind me.

user21: “guy or woman” is yn gay?

charles_leclerc: yes! she is half homosexual :)

yourusername: jesus charles

charles_leclerc: what? it’s true!

danielricciardo: can you do one of these post for me?

charles_leclerc: you are rich, tall and buff. no.

charles_leclerc; @/maxverstappen1, @/georgerussell63, @/oscarpiastri, @/carlossainz55, @/alex_albon, @/danielricciardo, @/landonorris who’s interested? 😁

alex_albon; nope

danielricciardo: this weird mate

oscarpiastri; i’ve already said no

landonorris: no thank you

carlossainz55: no thank you

georgerussell63: shakes head

yourusername; kill me now

charles_leclerc: okay. whatever. i don’t care.

carlossainz55: he cares

charles_leclerc: on a completely totally unrelated note @/maxverstappen1, join me for coffee tomorrow morning?

maxverstappen1: sure 👍

— cafe near charles house, 9am, on the dot.

— max verstappen has posted a new story!

[caption: nice cafe 👍]

story responses:

charles_leclerc: hehehehe 😈

user22: SO YOU AND YN WERE HANGING OUT??

user23: that twitter user wasn’t lying??!?!??

user24: charles set you and yn up huh 😼

danielricciardo: who goes to a cafe and gets tea?

maxverstappen1: yn does. and then i felt awkward ordering something else.

danielricciardo: it’s been years and she still makes you nervous?? 🤣

maxverstappen1: shut it

landonorris: i’m surprised you didn’t run away in fear when you say her instead of charles

maxverstappen1: so does everyone just know about charles plan or what?

landonorris: pretty much yeah!

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 501,026 others!

yourusername: july and august photo dump 👍

view comments below!

charles_leclerc: my wedding is in a week, why are you posting on instagram and not freaking out?

yourusername: i can multitask

charles_leclerc: maybe you having a bf was a bad idea, you are too distracted 😑

yourusername; lalalala can’t hear you

user23: boyfriend you say? 😏

user24: 2 months and shes been seen "hanging out" with max more then 10 times, AND she justs posted jimmy or sassy (i cant tell the difference) what are you tryna say yn?

user25: man i can’t believe charles actually got yn a boyfriend

user26: and it’s MAX. like his max.

user27: how do yall even know theyre dating?

user25: context clues babes

user28: this is the closest we’ll get to yn and max making it “official”

user29: i feel like if they go to the wedding together, that’ll be them making it “official”

user30: oh definitely

maxverstappen1: puzzles are hard

yourusername: they’re easy when you focus on

maxverstappen1: how can i focus when i when i have a gorgeous woman should as yourself near me?

landonorris: that was smooth man 👏

maxverstappen1: thank you, i’ve been practicing

user31: and people are still saying they aren’t together??

user32: people want them to post a story wirh the caption “this is us making it official” 💀 like babes this is the best we’re going to get

user33: i can’t believe the wedding of the century is in ONE WEEK??

user34: it feels like just yesterday when charles accidentally told the whole world he was engaged

liked by charles_leclerc, yourisistersuser, and 1,026,027 others!

yourusername: today, my sister married an idiot

view comments below!

user35: that wedding was so fucking gorgeous

user36: charles and yn planned the whole thing?? fuck f1 we need them as party planners

yourusername: planning this wedding was the most stressful thing in my fucking life. i never want to plan anything ever again

user37: well the wedding was beautiful so, worth it?

user38: i was expecting a much more emotional caption

user39: she got all her emotions out during her speech 😭

user40: OMG HER SPEECH WAS THE CUTEST THING. “charles you have changed mine and my sisters life for the better. you have introduced me to someone who makes me feel like i’m on cloud 9.” THE CAMERA PANS TO MAX??? “i know we joke and what not, but… i don’t know, just…thank you for making me feel like family.” TEARS ARE STREAMING DOWN MY FACE “i love you both so much,” I CRIED, CHARLES CRIED, EVERYONE CRIED

user41: we will never get that amount of emotion from yn ever again

user42: i will enjoy it while it last

yoursistersuser: i did indeed marry an idiot.

yourusername: it’s okay tho! we still like him

charles_leclerc: awwwww 🥰🥰

user43: charles just ignoring the idiot part

user44: it’s been a good day. yn and max made itt official, charles got married, and the wedding was gorgeous

user45: f1 twt has never been so peaceful

user46; RIGHT??? everyone’s just celebrating the marriage

maxverstappen1: will we have a big wedding?

yourusername: absolutely not. unless charles plans it by himself, we’re getting married in a courthouse

charles_leclerc: are you serious? you’ll let me plan your wedding?

yourusername: you proved yourself with this wedding so yes

charles_leclerc: AHHHHHH OMG OMG OMG I HAVE TO GET STARTED

user47: first it started with him trying to get her a bf, now he’s planning her wedding

user48: i feel like a proud mom watching her kids grow up 😢

. . .

notes; pls pls pls send me blurb or smau request!! i have 2 weeks left of vacation and i must make the most of it

[hoshigray]

This is my first time requesting something but HEAR ME OUT, "Slow Cuddle-fucking with og Sukuna while he is holding (and caressing) Reader (His wife) tightly and praising her (with him having size(difference) and breeding kink) oneshot please please please PLEASESSS😭

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: NAH CUZ I SEE THE VISION, HOLD ON–

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size difference - monster-fucking (he got 2 dicks, y'all) - double penetration; anal and vaginal - spooning dp position - breast fondling + nipple play - breeding kink - clitoral play (pinching and swiping) - dacryphilia - pet names ([little]dove, good girl, my wife, woman) - soft! kuna, but not too OOC - mention of drool/spit and tears.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k

“Stay still, woman…Mmnnn, good girl, nice and easy…”

It’s not a rarity for Sukuna to have his hands on you as you two slept through the night. After all, he is the King of Curses; asking permission to touch his is beneath him. You were made for him to hold – sculpted for his cursed hands to touch – everyone else was far behind or had no standing compared to your demonic husband. And with you both sharing a futon every night, who’s supposed to tell him to keep his hands to himself?

You, his little spouse, knew of this. Marrying the King of Curses was something you never imagined would happen — let alone falling in love with the giant man! You’ve always had dreams of becoming a sweet little partner to someone; for that to be fulfilled by the cursed man who could kill thousands in the blink of an eye is astounding. 

And, of course, being a wife entails all the duties accompanying the package. Especially now, as you two lie together on the floor, nude bodies nestled close on the futon above the tatami floor, and your naked figure trembling from the insertion of one of Sukuna’s paired cock. And your heart drops at the second one brushing up against the crevice of your ass when he pushes the one inside your throbbing, velvety channel. 

“Mmmph…! Sukuna, no,” you whined, your butt inching away from the second member. “I can’t handle both—“

“Don’t lie; you’ve done it before and did it well,” a hand brings your waist to him. “Or maybe I should just have one of the concubines take care of me, seeing as though my own wife is neglecting their duties.” 

He wouldn’t do that; Sukuna’s interest in his insignificant mistresses had long been diminished once he took you up as his bride, practically collecting dust as he hadn’t visited them since you shared a bed with him. Now, he uses them as tools to probe you. And he has to hold back the mischievous snicker when your eyes widen with anxiousness, wrapping your arms around his neck in desperation.

“N–No, please!” You pleaded; it was the only sufficient approach. “I’ll be good to you, I promise!”

The four-eyed curse scoffs. “Then do what you’re supposed to,” Each crimson orb takes in information about your bashful expression, “And attend to your husband like a wife should.”

Further complaints cease at his command, so you quiet down and arch your behind to him submissively. Sukuna takes your initiation with his hungry bottom hand on your ass, squeezing the flesh as you guide his other dick to your lubed asshole. With a hum, he pushes himself and forces you to take his cocks with your bottom, needing a few seconds to breathe when your holes reach the base of his members.

“Good girl,” he says to your ear to make you shudder, and he lifts your leg with the hand that finished groping your asscheek. “Obeying me so well like always…”

He begins to move without a signal, slowly pulling himself in and out of your warm wetness that coats his length with your slick. You can’t help but grip the girth limbs that massage your insides, involuntarily throbbing on them with shaky breaths.  

“Mmmaah, ohhhmyG—Mmm!” Speech isn’t easy, even with his upper left hand cupping your cheeks. And your brows furrow as the upper right sneaks to grope a breast. “Faaahh, Suk..una, I’m too full already…”

“Mmm? Is that so?” Sukuna asks with a patronizing tone, licking the helix of your ear to hear you gasp. “But we’ve barely started yet, my wife. Don’t bore me before I can enjoy you yet.” 

His hips go at a gradual cadence that has you keening a mess, the sensation of the veins of his cocks felt by the walls of your holes. You howl silently, not wanting to make too much noise.

But that doesn’t fly with your husband, speaking to your ear with that hoarse voice. Almost has you melting as he squishes with your cheeks, “Let it out, princess,” he commands. “I want to hear that voice; don’t you dare hide that from me.”

Fuck, the way you felt on his dicks was so fucking good, having the cursed behemoth burrow his face into the cubby of your neck. Slow kisses on your skin segway to sucks that should mark for later. He could never get enough of how small you were up against him. His giant palm swallowed your tit, your ass bouncing with every thrust, and how damn tight you were as you accommodated the two members making your entrances busy. 

Goddamn it, he bites his lip, dialing up the speed of his ruts a bit. Scratching your inner walls has you squeaking louder, unable to stop yourself when he grinds his hips after a sudden grim pound. So warm and snug for him as if you were meant for him. He knew you were meant for him — taking his huge, fat shafts with no objections, just arching your back further so the sensation could be more pleasurable like the loyal, little pet you are. “Hmngh…! Yeah, just like that, little dove; keep clenching around me like that…”

Restraint was gone long ago, letting your voice and shrieks fly out and fill the quiet bedroom. The sound of his skin shaking against your ass, the heat of your cheeks making it hard to think, and the shivers crawling your spine with every graze to your sweet spots. Everything feels like a haze, your brain too clouded to think outside this moment. 

And then you sense the hand on your breast let go, slithering down to your unattended clitoris, which has your eyes shoot wide as your demon husband presses down. “—Khhff! Nooo, ‘Kunaa, you mustn’t…!”  

He lifts a brow with a grin; you dare question him? “And why shouldn’t I?” He pinches the delicate bud, resulting in a scream sneaking past your lips. “Hmm? Plead for yourself.”

“Becau—Ahhh! Mmmm, I’ll cum. I’m gonna cumm…”

“Then don’t,” Sukuna doesn’t remove his digits playing with your clit, and the hand on your chin pulls your face to look at him. “Cum without my permission, and I’ll make sure to not be so kind next time...” His words carry a warning filling your bones with apprehension, yet his soft lips greet yours and he hums into your mouth. The kiss serves as a distraction from his thick digits gently swiping on the pearl.

The rhythm of his hips, however, increases in speed and prompts more moans to be taken by Sukuna. Drool trickles down your lips, same with tears that welled up earlier from the insertion of his girth inside your ass. Your eyes roll at the jab to your silky walls, breaking the sweet yet passionate kiss to cry out as your husband’s fat balls smack your ass. 

“—Ooooo, fuuuck, I can’t,” your eyelids shield your vision, using the rest of your senses to indulge in this euphoric pleasure. “‘Kuna, I’m so close, so—Ooohh!”

“Me too…Ghhh! Shit, me too…” Sukuna presses his hot face to yours when you throw it back, licking the tears off your sweaty skin. You looked so stunning like this, all disheveled and immodest because of him. “Gonna take my load, huh?” He licks the sweat off your shoulder and bites when you don’t respond. “Answer me, Y/n.”

“—Ahhh, yes!”

That’s not enough. “I said,” he pinches your clit again as he gives slow yet rough ruts to your holes. And he can tell by your twitching that you’re doing everything in our power not to come. “Answer me.”

Holy shit, this was borderline torture. “Mmmph! OhhhLord, ‘Kunaaa, I want you to fill me up. Pleasee, pleasepleaseee, I wanna be full; wanna be all ‘round and fat with your child…!”

“Keh, dumb pet; who said I wanted a brat, huh?” He scoffs, yet you can hear the groan as he licks and sucks on your neck while squishing your hot, tear-stricken cheeks. “Fine then; go on and cum with me. So damn needy for my seed…”

Sukuna brings your chin for another steamy kiss, his lower left hand holding yours as his pelvis goes at an irregular pace. Your muffled shrills are taken by feisty lips, teeth clashing with his fangs before sucking on his tongue, and the upper left hand releases your chin to caress your chest once more, tweezing the nipple along with swipes to your clit.

Release gradually creeps up your shaky frame, crying to his mouth when your chasm and anus pucker around the lengths that graze your walls with the tips. Sukuna is not too far behind you, pumping his load into you with a few harsh plunges, making your contracting cunt and rear full of his hot and thick semen. The lower right hand propping your leg up leaves soft kneads on your inner thigh, hoisting it up further so his shafts are deep enough until his pulsing balls meet your ass.

You withdrew from his lips to breathe, your figure quivering through the aftershocks, and your slit and asshole still flutter around his girths. And you mewl when he kisses your cheek and temple.

“Mmm, that’s my princess,” he purrs while placing your leg down to massage your waist. “Such a good dove…”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ✩ dividers by @/benkeibear.

[4unnyr0se]

Haikyuu characters catching you masterbating ?

❥ caught ya! | haikyuu guys catching you pleasuring yourself

warnings: timeskip! characters, fem! reader mentions of masturbation (duh), jealously, fingering, teasing, voyeurism, toy usage, lewd language

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 650

a/n: hopefully i assigned the characters correctly

got a request? my asks are open!

❥ They think it's cute

He walks in on you, knuckle-deep in your soaked pussy, panties hastily pushed aside as you plunge your fingers into your dripping heat over and over again. You were too preoccupied with fucking yourself on your fingers that you didn’t even notice how the door to your bedroom closed, your boyfriend crossing his arms in amusement as he leaned against your dresser. He observes how his name falls from your lips like a broken prayer, your nose sniffling pathetically as you try too hard to rip an orgasm out of you. But sadly, your fingers were no match for his own, and they never will be. You squealed in delight as you finally hit that sweet spot that you so craved, only to have your moment of bliss interrupted by your boyfriend's gentle cooing.

“Did my baby miss me while I was working, hm? Don’t worry, sweet thing. I’ll just stand here and watch. Go on, try to make yourself cum without my help. You’re so fucking adorable, my precious angel.”

SUGAWARA, kuroo, yaku, ennoshita, UKAI, semi, hanamaki, kenma, OSAMU, kita

❥ They think it's stupid

He hears your oh-so-familiar moans behind your shared bedroom and busts in without a second thought. Who the hell was ripping those perfect noises from your pretty lips without his permission? Why, was it you, of course! A bullet vibration practically danced on your throbbing clit while your legs were spread like a slut, your slit drenching the innermost part. Your perfectly manicured hand squeezed your breast, your thumb rolling over your nipple whilst your pearly whites bit down on your bottom lip, hips bucking into the air on occasion. His eyes filled with fury as he ripped the vibrator off your clit, earning an annoyed moan from your slutty mouth.

“What the fuck is this, hm? You seriously couldn’t wait for me to get back so I could fuck you? Who the hell needs this stupid toy when you have me? That’s it. Get on all fours. Right now, don’t fucking test me.”

kageyama, TSUKISHIMA, kyoutani, IWAIZUMI, atsumu, suna, sakusa, ushijima, daichi

❥ They're completely starstruck

Oh, fuck. They have absolutely no idea what to do. He’s fantasized about this so much, and it’s finally fucking happening. He caught you bouncing on a dildo you had bought yourself, whimpering as the silicone head hit every spot so perfectly deep inside your gummy walls. His eyes landed on your pretty fingers, desperately swirling your clit, beads of sweat flying off your forehead. You looked so fucking ethereal, he had to say something. He just had to let you know how fucking pretty you looked!

“Holy fuck, you look so fucking pretty. Can you keep going for me, please? I wanna see you cum over and over again, please, baby girl. I’ll fuck you as much as you want, just put on a good show for me. God, you’re perfect.”

HINATA, yamaguchi, asahi, GOSHIKI, oikawa, akaashi, takeda, TANAKA

❥ They join you

His ears perk up once he hears you mewling in pleasure from your bedroom, eagerly slamming the door open to reveal your hands fucking a vibrating bullet in and out of your weeping cunt, the sheets beneath you a filthy mess. He smirks and practically pounces on the bed, not even bothering to shut the door as he peppers your face in a million kisses. You always look so pretty when you wanna get yourself off. What if he fucked his fist in tandem with you? That's the best idea ever.

“Shit, don’t stop just for me, baby. Let’s cum at the same time, yeah? You wanna fuck yourself with that cute bullet I got you while I fuck my fist to the sight of your pretty tits? C’mon, don’t say no! It’ll be fun, I promise! Then I’ll fuck you nice and good afterward, okay? Thank you, pretty baby.”

nishinoya, BOKUTO, konoha, matsukawa, TENDOU, terushima, yamamoto, lev

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO x FEM READER

Gojo Satoru likes his girls clingy. 

wc — 1k

tags — confident reader 

He lets you loop your arms around his neck and whine for kisses, gifts, everything he has. With an unlimited budget and the deep pockets of a man in love, he spoils you rotten. 

Here’s the problem with being the strongest: you will always be the strongest. From the day he was born, there was no competition. Gojo didn’t even have to begin to outstrip his peers. He was simply born better than them. 

But eventually, even that level of talent grew exponentially until he went from being simply unbeatable to untouchable. His growth was incomparable, leaving him a lonely god on his own plane of existence. 

That’s why he needs you: sweet and soft and demanding. Everyone else had it all wrong. 

The Gojo clan spoiled their young head rotten. Knowing that he would bear the burden of the world from the moment he was born and those blue eyes opened, his mother demanded her child grow up in peace. Nothing was asked of him, no demands, no pleas for help. 

The outside world relied on Gojo as their saviour, but within the Gojo compound, he was just a spoiled little boy whose mother adored him. 

The way he acts within the walls of the Gojo stronghold is a carefully kept secret. He’s as soft as a newborn kitten, hair carefully washed by his childhood nurses and left out to sun in a patch of light. He’s sleepy and warm and mellow, hardly the strongest anymore. Without knowing any of this, you somehow bring that back out in him years later. 

An auxiliary manager in training, you first met him when you were tagging along with Ijichi on one of Gojo’s missions. Ijichi was flustered, even more so than usual, at the thought of having to care for a mentee when he could hardly take care of himself.

It only made matters worse that your first mission would be with Gojo. His heart sank into the pit of his stomach, despairing at how he would inevitably fail to shield you from his barbed comments and wicked teasing. 

In the end, he needn’t have worried. The two of you turn the tables on him. 

Poor Ijichi. 

It started off as a way to bully him more, because Gojo could be such a little tyrant. 

“Come on, Ijichi. Let her tag along, what’s the harm!” 

“You heard him,” you had announced self-importantly, and thrown yourself promptly into the passenger seat. 

That was usually Gojo’s seat, but he was willing to give it up for some amusement. 

You hadn’t been given permission to go on this mission, but you had insisted. First you wheedled, then you whined, finally you outright demanded. You wanted see the powerful Satoru Gojo in action. 

He leans forward, arms draped over the back of your seat. He pokes your cheek playfully as he says, “Oh, are you a fan?” 

“As if!” You scoff. “I don’t care about you, I care about your cursed technique.” 

Gojo takes your bluntness in stride. Maybe it’s the way your eyes sparkle when you talk about his technique (he caught you demanding details on Hollow Purple from Ijichi once) or maybe it’s the way your cheeks puff out when you pout. He knows you’re lying. Part of your assignment to Ijichi is because you begged Masamichi to be placed where you could watch Gojo work. 

It’s easy work for him. The curse is vaporized in seconds. He makes it look so weak you wonder why they even bothered with it at all until you remember that this curse had been failed to be exorcised by a first grade sorcerer who had come back licking his wounds. It’s not that it’s weak, it’s that he’s too strong. 

“Anyone up for lunch? My treat,” Gojo says, still immaculate as ever. 

Ijichi, who had been standing so close he got covered in some strange muck, not even from the curse but from Hollow Purple cutting through the mud, looks at him suspiciously. Gojo is never this nice. 

You have no such reservations. Ijichi yelps and protests when Gojo brings you to a luxurious restaurant in the heart of Tokyo without a reservation, relying on the strength of his name alone. He doesn’t even eat much, content to watch you order whatever you like on his dime. It amuses him, the way you’re so confident about it, as if you know he won’t refuse you. 

He won’t. 

By the time you order dessert - for you and Gojo, telling him he’ll like whatever you choose for him - he can’t bear the burning question that’s been lurking in the back of his mind anymore. 

“Smoke break!” He demands cheerfully. 

“You don’t even smoke!” Ijichi says, terrified, as if Gojo is some high school bully dragging him out under another pretense to shake him down for cash. He might, just for fun. 

You smile and wave them off. You wouldn’t let Gojo do that seriously, but Ijichi is just so fun to tease. You’ll come rescue him later if it looks like he’s really miserable. 

“Alright, spill the beans,” Gojo says, leaning against the doorframe and blockading Ijichi from going back inside. “What’s her deal?” 

Ijichi just stares at him slack jawed, open mouthed, terrified, clearly still waiting for some kind of attack. 

“Oh, come on! I’m not that mean to you, am I?” Even Gojo can’t resist a twitchy smile at what he’s saying. “Who is she? Where’s she from?” 

Ijichi blinks. “She’s just some girl. Masamichi hired her.” 

“She’s a right little princess,” Gojo murmured. “What, is she the daughter of a clan head or something? Maybe even the Three Clans?” 

Ijichi sighs. “You would think so with that attitude, but she just comes from a normal non-sorcerer family.” 

“Her?” Gojo asks disbelievingly. “A girl like that? Impossible.” 

“It’s true,” Ijichi says. “I don’t even know where Masamichi picked her up.” 

Gojo returns to his seat with a overly sweet parfait waiting for him. You’re right, he does like it. Or maybe he likes it because you’re finally giving him your full attention, waiting with rapt delight to see if he’ll give it full stars. 

He thinks he might take you out to dinner more, if it gets you to look at him like that. You might not be a clan princess yet, but he can’t wait to make you one.

[spider-stark]

PRECIPICE

Aegon II Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary - Forced to attend a stuffy ball, you find yourself hiding beneath a table with Aegon.

Warnings - implied targcest as always

Word Count - 4.5k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

The delicious aroma of roast mutton is wafting over you as you pass one of the many long serving tables lining the walls of the ballroom. Your gaze drags along the vast spread that has been prepared for tonight; a variety of artisan breads, cooked meats, and candied desserts are laid out upon silver serving dishes. 

As you reach the end of the first table, a pile of lemon cakes snag your attention. Neatly stacked atop an ornate porcelain platter, the cakes are coated in a thin glaze that shimmers in the light. Your mouth instantly begins watering at the sight, your stomach growling in a way that would be deemed improper for a Lady. 

Beside you, holding a plate that has been loaded with mashed potatoes and honeyed chicken, Jace turns his head to cock a brow at you.

“Hungry?” He asks, chuckling softly. 

You suck in a deep breath before forcefully tearing your gaze from the cakes. “Extremely.” 

It takes an enormous amount of will power to turn away from the serving table while still empty-handed, but you somehow manage to do just that. Having hardly even walked a few steps, though, Jace is abandoning his plate to rush after you, softly seizing your wrist to keep you from moving any further. 

“If you’re hungry, then you should eat.” 

His concern is obvious, not only through his tone, but his expression as well. With his furrowed brow and tight-mouthed frown, you’re fairly certain that he’s already considering the consequences of dragging you back to the table and feeding you himself if need be. 

Jace had always been that way—not only with you, but with everyone. He was kind hearted and considerate to fault. 

“I would,” you smile, shaking your head slightly to dismiss his concern, “but I’m afraid that if I do, I might very well pop right on out of this ridiculously tight corset.” 

You wave an idle hand down to your waist, unnaturally cinched by the intricate lacing and boning of the garment beneath your evergreen gown. His eyes follow the motion, tracing along the intense curve, lingering for a moment too long. 

The explanation seems to wash away much of his concern, relieved to know that discomfort was the only reason you had chosen to abstain from the treats being served. Even so, a touch of empathy remains, accompanied by the faintest hint of desire gleaming in his amber gaze. 

Amber—an unusual color for a boy of Velaryon blood. His eyes were one of the many reasons that your mother, the Queen Alicent, felt so confident in labeling Princess Rhaenyra’s boys as bastards behind closed doors. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you knew that there was likely truth to her claims. Your nephews probably were bastards—but you didn’t particularly care. 

Jace was nice to you, and that was all that had ever mattered to you. 

He clears his throat, realizing that he had been gawking at your body for far longer than he should. “It looks uncomfortable,” the words spill out without permission, and you nearly laugh when his eyes go wide. “That didn’t come out right, nothing about it actually looks uncomfortable—it looks stunning! I mean, you look stunning! It’s just that, I don’t know, I imagine that having something squeeze you so tightly might be-” 

“Jace, it’s okay! Truly,” you interrupt his rambling with a soft giggle. “You should know that I’m not so easily offended,” you playfully chide. “Besides, you’re right. It is quite uncomfortable!” 

Actually, quite felt like an enormous understatement. But you didn’t figure that Jace was particularly interested in hearing about how your breasts were aching from being roughly shoved up by the tight garment. 

Jace looses a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Then why bother wearing them? Many noble-women go without corsets. Even my mother hardly ever wears one—she believes they’re vile things that only aid in the objectification of ladies.” 

Your brows rise, agreeing with the claims of your half-sister. But then you let your attention shift to the dais, meeting the rough stare of the reason why you had been forced into the tortuous garb—your mother. 

She’s already watching you when you meet her eye, her lip curled as she sends you a pointed look, silently urging you away from your nephew. It takes a great deal of effort not to shrink beneath the weight of her attention, and you’re beyond grateful for the group of women who shuffle past you towards the dance floor, giving you an excuse to break the hold she has on you. 

“I wear it because my mother wishes for all of her children to look their best,” you answer, shifting your focus back onto Jace. “And who am I to disappoint the Queen?” 

He notes the sudden callousness of your tone, as well as the way you clasp your hands together at your waist, fidgeting with the golden ring on your index finger. He doesn’t bother asking if you’re okay, however, knowing well enough that you were not—and already knowing why, as well. 

You imagine that Jace doesn’t much like your mother; both for her part in the rumors spread about him and his brothers and for the way she has treated his mother. 

It makes you upset in a strange way, a part of you always wishing to defend the Queen, no matter how abhorrent her actions. After all, she was your mother—whether you like it or not—and you knew very well that if someone were to try to hurt you or your siblings, then she would gladly lay her life on the line for you. 

You were thankful for her; even if her protection hurt, even if her maternal love only exists when your life is at stake.  

“Speaking of your siblings,” Jace suddenly notes, veering slightly off-subject as his own stare drifts towards the dais, “how did Aegon manage to weasel his way out of attending tonight?” 

Your brows snap together before letting your head snap back towards the dais, managing to avoid your mother’s nasty stare this time by looking to her right, taking note of each of your siblings. 

Aemond is sat directly by her side, his posture rigid as his eye scans across the room, alert and on-guard as usual. Next to him is Helaena, leisurely picking at her plate of food and mindlessly bobbing her head along to the symphony being played for court musicians. Daeron, who your mother insisted fly Tessarion here from Oldtown so that he might be present for tonight, is sat next to your empty chair, making idle chatter with those around him. 

But Aegon’s chair, sat between yours and Helaena’s, is vacant. 

A knot forms in your stomach when you look back at Aemond, his piercing violet eye catching yours, gleaming with a silent order—find our imbecile brother before he makes a fool of us all. 

You give him a curt nod before looking away, head whirling as you begin searching the crowd around you for any sign of your eldest brother. 

“Simple,” you huff, “he didn’t.” 

Jace hums his understanding as you politely excuse yourself, turning away from him to begin shoving through the throng of people filling the room. 

You decline invitations to dance and spout excuses as to why you can’t stop to chat as you push past noblemen-and-women from various Houses, trying to maintain the pleasant persona your mother favored while still moving fast enough that you might find Aegon before he finds any new ways to publicly bring shame upon the Targaryen name.  

It’s exhausting work—and by the time you have shoved yourself to the other end of the room without finding him, you nearly consider giving up. Your chest hurts and your scalp is itching from being poked and prodded by a dozen or so pins, all of which had been meticulously placed by servants to arrange plaits into a fanciful half-updo. 

In many ways, you look like your mother; with your elaborate hairstyle and green dress, the look is tied together by a pendant of the Seven-Pointed Star dangling from your neck. 

And, in many ways, you hate it. 

Much to the Queen’s dismay, you’ve never much liked the elegant styles preferred by many women at court. No, instead you spent much of your time donning mail with your hair lazily pulled back, joining Aemond for practice in the training yard. 

She hated how unrefined you were, how indelicate you were; fearful for how others at court might view you for it, for how much attention you might draw to yourself. 

You blow out a sigh, resisting the urge to pull all of the pins from your hair as you will yourself to keep walking, to keep looking for Aegon. A table overflowing with carafes of arbor wine and flagons of ale catches your attention, setting off alarm bells in your mind. 

If Aegon were going to choose anywhere to hide at this godsforsaken ball, then it would certainly be in close proximity to the alcohol. 

A cacophony of laughter and clinking goblets surrounds you as you approach, scanning over rows of bottles and skimming the faces of those nearby. Spinning your ring on your finger, you walk along the entire length of the long serving table, disappointed when you reach the end of it and find that your brother is still nowhere in sight. 

Chewing on your cheek, you fight the urge to pour yourself a drink when you notice a carafe of blackberry wine. The plum colored liquid seems to call your name, singing promises of sweet oblivion, an escape from the restless feeling clawing at your chest. 

You’re out of place here in court, and you always have been—you know that, and you worry that everyone around you knows, too. 

Sensical enough to recognize that alcohol would likely just exacerbate your current ill-feelings, you shun the carafe and turn towards the grand entrance. Lifting your chin and squaring your shoulders, you try to appear more composed than you feel as you saunter towards the large wooden doors. 

If Aegon had snuck off with one of the serving girls, then there was a good chance that he was still somewhere in the hall, either flirting or feeling up their skirts. And, if you were wrong, then at least he had provided you with an excuse to slip away from this mess of a ball. 

As you pass by the last serving table, the platters and dishes atop it already thoroughly picked over, you feel someone tug at your dress. You whirl around, a fiery retort already falling off your tongue, fully intending to rip into whoever had found the audacity to touch you without permission—only to find yourself insulting the air. 

There was no one there, at least not close enough to have touched you. 

For a heartbeat you begin to reel, wondering if you’ve started to lose your mind before feeling the sensation again. A sharp tug at the fabric, just by your knee. Your head snaps down towards your dress, covering your mouth before a gasp can slip your lips. 

An arm is peeking out from beneath one of the finely embellished tablecloths, and a well-groomed hand is clutching your skirts. You instantly recognize the hand as Aegon’s, having become intimately familiar with your brother’s touch throughout your life. 

Taking a step closer to the covered table, you try to look natural as you hunch over it slightly to get closer to his level, feigning an interest in a half-eaten roast duck. 

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing, Aegon?!” Your voice is hushed, not quite a whisper, but low enough so that no one other than him might hear. 

Releasing his hold on your skirts, Aegon lifts the tablecloth a little higher, revealing his face. “Get under here,” he tilts his head, motioning for you to join him beneath the table. 

“No!” 

He swiftly presses a finger to his lips in response to your incredulous shout, shushing you. You stiffen, nervously flicking your eyes to each side, checking to ensure that no one had heard you. Fortunately, the courtiers around you appear far too invested in their conversations and drinks to notice how you appear to have shouted at a roast duck. 

Aegon’s lilac eyes are wide, pleading as he shoves the tablecloth up higher, giving you more room to slip beneath it. “Would you just shut up and come?” 

It’s the sheer urgency of his tone that piques your interest, although you wish that it hadn’t. You huff out an annoyed sigh, taking another look around the room before gathering up your skirts and sinking to your knees, crawling underneath the table. 

Once you’ve successfully sat down beside him on the stone floor, he drops the cloth, shielding the two of you from any prying eyes. The material is thin enough that it allows some light to pass through it, very dimly illuminated Aegon’s grinning face, all urgency having suddenly vanished. 

“Welcome,” he almost sounds breathless, the word airy—and utterly unnecessary. 

You can faintly see the rosy coloring of his cheeks, a few messy silver waves tumbling across his face, and you’re immediately willing to bet that he’s extremely buzzed. “What are you doing, Aeg?” 

Your tone is firm, but there’s a certain gentleness to it that was specially reserved for your eldest brother. While you maintain that you love all three of them equally, it’s undeniable that your relationship with Aegon has always been… different. 

He reaches to his side, lifting a carafe from the ground beside him. “Having a party,” he says, raising it towards your face and playfully swirling the garnet colored liquid. 

“I’m unsure if you’re aware,” you motion towards the cloth shrouding you from the bustling ballroom, “but our mother has already planned quite the celebration for tonight—and she likely does not wish for it to be ruined by her drunkard son ducking beneath tables like an imbecile!” 

Aegon pokes his bottom lip out into a pout. “Why must you assume that I am drunk?” 

“Because you’re you,” you drone, cocking your head at him, “and you are always drunk.” 

Rolling his eyes, he sits the carafe down on the ground between you. There are only mere inches separating the two of you, both of you squeezing your limbs close to your body to avoid having a foot peek out from beneath the table. Sitting this close to him, you can smell the sweetness of the arbor red of his breath—as well as the faintest hint of sulfur, a sign that he had clearly gone riding on Sunfyre earlier and had failed at washing off the dragon’s strong scent. 

You take another breath, inhaling the smell of him into your lungs. It was familiar—comfortable, urging your taut muscles to slacken in his presence. 

“And what if I told you that I am sober right now?” 

A snort escapes you, sparing him an incredulous look. “Then I would call you a liar,” you tell him, tapping a finger against the rim of the half-empty carafe. 

His stare drops down towards it, watching as the liquid ripples when you pull your hand back. When he looks back up, he’s wearing a crooked smile that makes your heart flutter. “Mostly sober, then.” 

It’s nearly impossible to stifle your laugh, clamping a hand over your mouth so that you might muffle the sound and prevent passersby from becoming suspicious. The sound only makes his smile grow wider and more genuine, an expression that he graced very few people with. 

“I’ll ask again,” you say, speaking only when you're confident that no more laughter will tumble out. “Why are you down here? If mother finds out then she will be furious and-” 

Aegon tosses his head back, cutting you off with a groan. “Mother will be furious no matter what,” 

Disdain drips from each syllable, thickening the air around you. He didn’t like talking about her much, and you couldn’t blame him for it. Of all your siblings, Aegon had been dealt the worst hand, simply by being born first. He got the brunt of your mothers vile behavior; and you hated that, too. 

“Because,” lazily rolling his neck so that he can look at you again, he answers, “I’d rather spend my night under here,” he flicks a hand up, lazily gesturing around himself, “than be forced to sit through even one more tedious speech from some ancient Lord of gods-know-where!” 

You bite your tongue, holding back another laugh. 

“And,” he continues, nodding in your direction, “I am now saving you from the same mundane fate. You’re welcome.” 

“What makes you think that I needed your saving?” You ask, brows rising. 

Aegon purses his lips, placing a finger against his chin as he feigns contemplation, studying the intricate styling of your hair, the modest long-sleeved gown, and the Star resting against your covered breasts. “Perhaps it was that our mother has you dressed up as though you’re an aspiring Septa.” 

Thinking of the plain women, with their simple gowns and traditional head coverings, you nearly laugh again as you ask, “How many Septa’s do you know that wear corsets and jewelry, brother?” 

“None,” he admits, shoulders lifting into an indolent shrug. “Though, if they looked more like you, then I might finally have a reason to attend prayer. Beautiful women would be more than enough to turn me into a pious man.” 

A warmth creeps up your neck as blood rushes to your cheeks, unsure if his statement was meant as a compliment—was he saying that he found you beautiful? If so, it shouldn’t have been a particularly shocking revelation. After all, Aegon had complimented you before, many times. 

In all fairness, however, most of those times had been when he was thoroughly besotted. He had a habit of sneaking into your rooms and practically draping himself off of you, muttering drunken nonsense about how breathtaking you were. You had never placed much truth in the statements though, assuming that Aegon likely didn’t even recognize who he was speaking to, much less whose bed he had crawled into. 

But even if this was a genuine and mostly sober attempt at complimenting you, the flattery of it doesn’t last nearly long enough. Your own insecurity washes back over you far quicker than you like, reminding you of just how unlike yourself you currently feel. 

“I do not believe that anything would be capable of turning you into a pious man,” you joke, trying and failing to cover up the melancholy that has settled into your bones. “Not even beautiful women.” 

“You could.” 

The answer comes far too quick, spilling from his tongue with an eagerness that even seems to catch him by surprise. 

“Though, I must say, for as exquisite as this dress makes you look,” his hand reaches across the short expanse dividing you, mindlessly running his fingers along the fabric covering your shoulder, “I much prefer the way look in armor—sweaty skin, messy hair, sword in-hand—all of it.” 

Your breath catches in your throat as his touch drifts towards the center of your chest, fingers dragging along the thin chain leading to your pendant, lifting the Star into his palm. He stares at it for a moment before yanking it roughly from your neck, grinning when you yelp. “But this,” he lifts the Seven-Pointed Star slightly, “I absolutely hate.” 

With that, he tosses it from underneath the table, sending it skittering across the floor beyond the tablecloth. 

Your jaw drops open, a hand pressed against the now-sore spot along the back of your neck. Despite yourself, your lips start to curve into a playful smile. You try fighting against it, try pressing them into a firm line, but fail. “Mother will not be happy about that-” 

“She’s never happy,” Aegon interjects. His own expression shifts, the line on his forehead deepening as he says, “Do not let yourself bear her misery. Life is too short—and you deserve more than that.” 

A palpable silence is thickening the air, and your breathing seems to synchronize as you simply stare at one another. 

Slowly, nervously, you say, “I’m not sure what it is that I deserve,” 

“You deserve,” he pauses, lips still parted despite the absence of speech. Then, swallowing back the words that had been building in his throat, he says, “you deserve whatever it is that you want, sister.” 

Your hand falls from your neck into your lap, and you avert your gaze, watching your fingers as they fidget with your ring. “And what if I do not know what I want?” 

Once, you had thought that you wanted a life like Jaces. A happy life, with a mother that knew how to love you and siblings that hadn’t been raised in fear of their half-sister ascending the throne, taught that their very existence was a threat to her power. But, suddenly, you felt as though you were no longer sure. 

Aegon hesitates, watching you carefully. His lilac eyes appear as though they’re searching for something within your own—a hint of recognition, or reciprocation. If he found what he was looking for, then you were unaware. “Then you’ll figure it out,” he sighs, his smile not reaching his eyes. “You have all the time in the world to decide.” 

There is something reassuring about his statement, making it resonate with you in a way that you hadn’t expected. You look up, holding his gaze for a heartbeat, then two, and you almost swear that you can see it—the silent invitation, the plea to delve deeper into his words, to decipher exactly what it was that he was promising you. 

You have all the time in the world—all the time in the world to decide if he might ever be something you want. 

Suddenly you find yourself dancing on the edge of a precipice, chest tightening as you grapple with the idea that, maybe, something more might exist between you and Aegon. 

That, maybe, he had always known who he was complimenting and what bed he was slipping into. 

That, for him, it had always been you. 

“Aegon, I-” 

He shakes his head, cutting you off before you have a chance to say something that he fears you may regret. Then, sliding the carafe between you to the side, he scoots closer. “If you plan on staying under my table,” he teases, clearing his throat, “then we need to do something about your hair.” 

“I thought you said I looked exquisite?” You stay still as he starts toying with the strands, trying to swallow the tumult of your own emotions. 

Aegon’s plucking various pins from your hair, tossing them to the ground. “Yes, but I also said that I prefer your hair when it’s messy. It’s more…” he sucks in a breath, unable to hide the admiration swelling in his chest when he finally exhales, “you.” 

Your cheeks are burning hot, and you’re suddenly very thankful for the lack of light around you. On instinct, you almost tell him how your mother wouldn’t agree—but then you think better of it. 

“You’re… generous.” 

Something about your voice sounds foreign in your ears. You sound nervous—and you’re not used to feeling nervous around Aegon. 

His fingers are combing through the plaits forming your updo, his brow drawn taut, framing his lilac eyes, shining bright with concentration. “Generous,” he snorts softly, nails raking lightly against your scalp as he shakes the strands loose, “I don’t hear that one often.” 

“Well perhaps you’d hear it more if you weren’t such an ass,” you shoot back, slowly trying to slip back into your usual self. 

“Me? An ass?” He’s untangled the final braid, scooting away from you slightly now as he presses a hand to his chest, feigning innocence. “Never.” 

Now falling in loose waves, free of those incessant pins, you brush your hair over your shoulder. “Just earlier I heard you telling Lord Grover that if wisdom were measured in wrinkles that he would be named Grand Maester.” You point out, unable to mask your amusement while recalling the old man’s shocked expression. 

“Is it not true?” Aegon smirks. “The man is nearly seventy, and his age certainly shows.” 

“Lord Grover is only two-and-fifty, brother.” 

His brows shoot up, gaping at you. “Tell me that you’re not serious!” When you nod, confirming that you are, he sucks his teeth. “Wow—how unfortunate. He looks positively dreadful for his age, then. I thought that he surely had one foot in the grave by now.” 

“Aegon!” You rebuke through your own sputtered laughter, shaking your head at his insolence. “See? This is what I was talking about! If you weren’t so crude then you might get more compliments.” 

Swinging his arm back to grab for the carafe, Aegon’s nose scrunches slightly. “Why bother?” He implores, a hint of mischief in his tone. “My crudeness is what you like most about me, is it not? Without it, dear sister, your life would be quite boring.” 

Just before he brings the carafe to his lips, he inclines his head towards the tablecloth, emphasizing his words. A reminder—that, without him, you would still be out there, sitting miserably amongst your siblings and being forced to dance with Lord’s twice your age. 

There was something more beneath the veil of humor and arrogance, however. A craving that had him tipping the carafe back, hoping that the stinging of the alcohol might numb his gnawing desire for validation—to hear you say that you yes, my life would be boring without you. 

“I suppose you’re right,” the admission has him pausing, the carafe lingering against his bottom lip. “Truth be told, I had never put much thought into it before, but you do have a way of keeping life interesting, Aeg. So, I must agree that, without you, my life would be positively dreadful.” Staring at the ground in-between you, you smile before adding, “After all, who else would be able to convince me to risk our mother’s scorn and crawl beneath a table to drink wine and fix my hair?” 

There’s a slight tremor in his voice when he speaks, trying to mask the warmth swelling in his chest, “You have yet to drink a single drop.” 

“Then I suppose that is the next thing you’ll have to fix,” you say, sticking your hand out towards him, urging him to pass you the carafe. He hands it to you while biting back a grin. 

“Careful,” he warns, “drink too much and you may end up like your drunkard brother.” 

“I don't mind,” You mirror his expression, your own lips curving as you raise the glass upwards, the strong scent of the arbor red stinging your nostrils. “I quite like my drunkard brother.” 

His gaze burns against your flesh as you tilt your head back, allowing the alcohol to slip over your tongue, and you suddenly realize that you are no longer standing on the edge of that precipice. 

You’re falling.

a/n - i was honestly just thinking about jude and cardan hiding under a table in the cruel prince and ended up with this? so yeah, definitely inspired by jurdan content (but y'know... no coup d'etat lmao).

[fastandcarlos]

On Cloud Nine : ̗̀➛ Carlos Sainz

summary: your hundreds of miles away when you get the call, desperate to be at carlos’ bedside as soon as possible

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by carlossainz55, ybffusername and 593,606 others

ynusername: new york, new york 🗽🍏

39,403 comments

carlossainz55: I miss you so much, hurry up home! 🩷

username1: these photos look amazing, new york is definitely my dream one day

charles_leclerc: hope you’re having the best time, btw carlos is definitely lost without you

carmenmmundt: I can’t wait to hear all about this when I see you next ☺️

username2: next time take me with you omg

landonorris: you’ll go anywhere to get away from carlos won’t you?? 😂

ynusername: @/landonorris don’t spoil all my secrets 🤫

carlossainz55: @/ynusername it all makes sense now 😂

username3: wow new york looks insane yn 🤩

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ynusername posted two stories

caption 1: get me home asap!!

caption 2: 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

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liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 738,504 others

ynusername: hi everyone, with carlos’ permission I wanted to share with you all that his operation this morning was successful and he’s recovering well. he also asked me to post a nice photo of him with this to remind you all just how handsome he actually he is 😂

I’m exhausted from rushing here, but just glad to be by his side as he starts the road to recovery 💞

78,503 comments

username4: sending carlos so much love - thank you for the update yn 🫶🏻

username5: poor carlos 😭😭

landonorris: tell me he still looks as handsome as ever to me!

maxverstappen1: get plenty of rest and see you back on the track carlos!

username6: only carlos would still care about his appearance despite being minutes out of surgery

username7: I’m just glad yn was there to be by his side for when he woke up 💞

username8: he’s got the best partner there to take care of him 🥰

alexandrasaintmleux: you guys know where I am if you need anything ❤️❤️

pierregasly: imo he’s never looked better 😂

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liked by danielricciardo, ynusername and 2,492,505 others

carlossainz55: thanks for all the support guys, pleased to say all is good and I’m recovering well so far. gutted to miss the race but I’ll be back on the track soon! biggest thanks goes to yn for dropping everything and travelling halfway around the world to be here with me - she makes a brilliant nurse 💕😂

103,592 comments

username9: how do you manage to look so good even whilst in hospital??

username10: we’re so pleased to see you’re on the mend carlos, take all the time you need 🥰

landonorris: stop flashing your stomach for sympathy 😂😂

username11: that looks so painful, hope you’re okay carlos!!

danielricciardo: made of tough stuff bro, see you real soon!

charles_leclerc: it’s not the same without you here 😭😭

carlossainz55: @/charles_leclerc do me proud my friend ❤️

username12: it breaks my heart seeing these photos

ynusername: couldn’t have timed this better, could you? 😂 just glad that you’re on the mend, ily 💞

carlossainz55: @/ynusername only thanks to you and the care that you give me 🩷

username13: don’t rush, take your time, your fans will wait for you!

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liked by pierregasly, carmenmmundt and 893,201 others

ynusername: carlos being at home resting has its perks 🥞🤩

39,124 comments

username14: stfu I’m so jealous

carlossainz55: you’re lucky I’ve got all this free time on my hands ❤️

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 turns out there are some perks to having your appendix taking out 😂

charles_leclerc: I’m already omw save some for me!!!

username15: welcome back boyfriend carlos aesthetic 🫶🏻

username16: all I want is to taste just one of carlos’ pancakes one day

alex_albon: next time we double date these have to me on the menu

ynusername: @/alex_albon there won’t be any complaints from me

username17: I’m happy to third wheel this date night btw

username18: THEYRE JUST SO FLUFFY

username19: @/username18 the pancakes or the hair???

username18: @/username19 EVERYTHING 😭

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liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 1,859,120 others

carlossainz55: back on the course doing what I love, an easy eighteen holes 🏌🏻⛳️

49,604 comments

ynusername: um I don’t think this is quite what the consultant meant when he said easy exercise 🤔

carlossainz55: @/ynusername what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him!!

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 can’t wait to throw you under the bus at your next appointment 😂

username20: we always knew it wouldn’t be long before carlos was back playing golf

landonorris: if yn is that worried about you, I guess next time I’ll just have to come with you…to look after you ofc

carlossainz55: @/landonorris I’m supposed to be taking it easy, you stress me out 😂

username21: poor yn must be so stressed looking after carlos

charles_leclerc: of all the sports you choose to go and play golf 🙂‍↔️

username22: imagine telling one of the most active people in the world that they have to rest

username23: counting down the days until he’s back out on his bike 😬

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liked by alex_albon, ynusername and 1,695,207 others

carlossainz55: back to full power soon, stepping up the recovery and fully focused on being back in the car soon 💪🏻

50,402 comments

username24: gym photos of carlos never get old

username25: and there he is back on the bike again 😂

ynusername: hmmm this looks more like the exercise you’re supposed to be doing 🙄

carlossainz55: @/ynusername 😂💞🤫

username26: if you need something to lift I’m happy to offer my services

landonorris: damn you’re putting me to shame sharing these carlos 😂

username27: I actually just squealed in excitement seeing these, now everyone’s staring at me

username28: yn is one lucky lucky girl wtf

alex_albon: ffs stop showing off how ripped you are

georgerussell63: at least go all the way and take the shirt off jeez

carlossainz55: @/georgerussell63 not all of us are as vain as you!!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, charles_leclerc and 2,403,705 others

carlossainz55: I should have more operations if this is what happens 😂 so proud to be p1 in aus, thank you for all the support ❤️🏎️

103,392 comments

username29: you’re a machine, we’re so proud of you!!

landonorris: booking an appointment to get my appendix taken out as we speak 🫡

username30: how do you do it??

ynusername: words fail me…you’re just the best 🫶🏻💞

username31: proud is an understatement to describe how I feel about this

danielricciardo: hats off to you sir that was one hell of a drive

charles_leclerc: I never realised I actually had a superhero for a teammate 😂

username32: this is the least you deserve after what you’ve been through

username33: to race like that whilst still in pain just blows my mind

maxverstappen1: huge congrats carlos, one hell of a race 💪🏻

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 792,032 others

ynusername: on cloud nine ☁️ after the trickiest couple of weeks you come back and pull this outta the bag - I’m so proud of you my love! 🩷

27,493 comments

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[steddiealltheway]

When Eddie gets excited, he gets a bit overwhelmed. At least, that’s what Steve has noticed, with the way Eddie has to take a quick running lap, bounce up and down, etc. whenever he gets too happy.

Steve secretly thinks it’s adorable and tries his best to induce these little happy zoomies.

It doesn’t take much. Sometimes it’s just a small compliment such as, “That shirt looks nice on you,” that has Eddie bouncing on his heels and fidgeting with his rings with a smile on his face. Sometimes, Steve tries to notice something new like when Eddie trims his bangs or paints his nails, that makes Eddie flush red and mumble, “Yeah, I did,” before taking a quick walk around Family Video before making his way back to him.

This time, Steve isn’t really trying to get a reaction out of Eddie who is angrily storming around the break room of Family Video after Steve had seen his face upon entering the store and ushered him to the back.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Eddie mutters out, running a hand over his face. Steve sits back quietly, letting Eddie go on a little rant. “He said, we were allowed to have the basement for our campaign. All of it. Then, Ted Wheeler in all his glory suddenly says that we’re too loud, and we can’t do the campaign at their house anymore. I mean… it’s one more session! He could’ve sat in that damn recliner and shut him mouth for one more session! Fuck.”

Eddie groans dramatically and sits on the ground, head in his hands. “I don’t know what to do. It’s summer so we don’t have access to the school. And I can’t risk breaking in and having them take away my well earned diploma. Plus, my trailer is too small, and no one else has the privacy of Mike’s basement. We’re done for!”

Steve shrugs, seeing a clear answer to the problem. “You can do it at my house. My parents are never home, and I can stay in my room for as long as you need.”

Eddie’s head snaps up. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, not really sure why he’s so shocked.

Eddie stands up quickly. “You’re positive you can deal with all the Hellfire members in your house?”

Steve nods. “I’ll even buy you guys pizza if you want.”

“Buy us pizza…” Eddie mumbles under his breath in disbelief. “Steve Harrington, are you granting me permission to use your house for Hellfire Club meaning hours of us yelling maybe even late into the night while we play our nerdy game?”

Steve nods and shrugs again. “Yeah. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal?” Eddie repeats, once again in disbelief. He slightly smiles. “We’re going to be able to complete the campaign.” He bounces on his heels excitedly. “We’re going to complete the campaign!” He runs up to Steve and hugs him tightly, jumping up and down, successfully jostling a laughing Steve in his arms. “We have a place to complete the campaign!!”

Eddie puts him down and pulls back with a big smiles. “Thank you! Seriously thank you. This means so much I could just-”

Before Steve can react, Eddie is leaning forward and pressing his mouth against his in an enthusiastic kiss.

Eddie pulls back quickly and puts his hands over his mouth in horror. “Oh my gosh. I’m so- fuck. I’m so fucking sorry. I just got uh…”

Steve waves him off as Eddie backs as far away from him as possible. “You just got excited. It’s okay.”

It’s okay as it can be considering that Steve really wants to kiss Eddie again although he’s not sure what that really means. But suddenly the urge to make Eddie happy makes a whole lot of sense.

Shit. Okay. He can work with this.

He glances up at Eddie who looks petrified in fear. “I just got excited…” he whispers out.

Steve slowly makes his way to him and puts his hands on his shoulders. “It’s okay, Eddie. Really. I uh, enjoyed it.”

“You enjoyed it?” Eddie echoes uncertainly.

“Yes. But if it was just an excitement thing, I understand.”

Eddie breathes out, “And what if it was more than an excitement thing?”

Steve takes a step further into Eddie’s space and tilts his head. “Then I’d ask if I could kiss you.”

Eddie swallows harshly and leans forward. “It was definitely more than an excitement thing.”

Steve smiles softly and asks, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Eddie says, slipping his hands into Steve’s hair as he moves forward again.

This time, Steve knows to respond, moving his lips against Eddie’s gently before tracing his tongue against the seam of his lips, exploring the inside of his mouth when Eddie lets him in.

When Steve reluctantly pulls away from the kiss to check on Eddie, he gets a quick nip to the lip.

Eddie flushes red. “So, I sometimes bite when I’m happy.”

Steve leans in again and whispers against his lips, “Thank god I’m into that.”

And he’s going to make sure to learn all the ways to elicit these responses from Eddie, but first, he’s going to learn all the ways Eddie likes to be kissed.

[arieslost]

quiet | op81

oscar piastri x fem!reader

summary: oscar is quiet in the ways he loves you.

word count: 1,620

warnings: disgusting levels of fluff

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

– the sidewalk rule

You don’t even have to explain this to Oscar. In fact, he’s done it every single time the two of you walk together. You really don’t even notice until you see something on TikTok about it and think it would be fun to pay attention and see if he did it or not without you saying anything.

“Wanna go for a walk?” You ask him casually, and he nods, reaching for his sneakers.

Exercise tends to be the bane of your existence, a la Yuki Tsunoda, but you love to walk, and Oscar loves to walk with you. So whenever you ask him to go for a walk, no matter what he’s doing or how he’s feeling, he’ll always drop everything to go with you.

He holds the door open for you to go out first. “What kind of walk are you thinking, babe?”

“Mm, probably a longer one. It’s pretty nice out today.” You say, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. It feels so nice after being cooped up inside working for most of the day.

Lacing your fingers with his, you purposely place yourself on the outside of the sidewalk, but you don’t make it more than fifteen feet before Oscar stops both of you so abruptly that you nearly fall backwards.

“What? What’s wrong?” You ask your boyfriend, who is frowning.

“This is not right,” he mumbles, gently grabbing you by your shoulders and maneuvering you to the inside of the sidewalk. “You walk there. I walk here.”

“Why?” You feign innocence.

“I protect you,” he says, like it’s obvious. “I’m always on the outside to protect you.”

He says it with such conviction that you don’t bother telling him that you did it on purpose because you saw a TikTok. Instead, you press a kiss to his cheek, take his hand again, and go on your way on the proper side of the sidewalk.

– fixing your clothes

Sometimes, you think that Oscar is more attentive to you than you are to yourself. It’s like he’s gained a sixth sense dedicated entirely to you. This applies to microexpressions, body language, even when your clothes are even the tiniest bit askew.

You’re five minutes late to a work meeting, you can’t find your shoes, and you haven’t even left yet. Oscar watches you rush around the apartment, holding your bag and your keys in his hand so you don’t have to go looking for those either.

“I’m so fired after this,” you huff, forcing your feet into your shoes that you finally located and wincing when your fingers get stuck between your heel and the shoe.

“You won’t get fired,” he says gently. “This is the first time you’ve ever been late, and you’re a fantastic employee. I’m sure they’ll be understanding.”

“They’d better be, I need this job.” You mutter, shoving your arms into your jacket and buttoning it at the speed of light.

“You don’t need a job, I can take care of you.”

“Nice try, Osc. We’ve talked about this, I’m not going to be your sugar baby.”

“Trophy wife?”

You glare at him playfully. “I’ll see you later. Or in an hour, if I get fired.”

“You won’t get fired,” he repeats as you take your bag and keys from him. “Oh, wait a second!”

You pause as he reaches for you, undoing the uneven buttons courtesy of your hastiness and deftly buttoning them back up the right way. “There y’go, have a good day, honey.” He gives you a kiss and opens the door for you.

A few days later, Oscar comes home to see that his favorite hoodie is missing. He walks into the living room, where you’re curled up on the couch taking a nap, wearing the hoodie in question. He sits at your side, brushing your hair away from your face, and that’s when he notices that one of the drawstrings is tucked back behind your neck into the hoodie. It doesn’t look like it’s causing you any discomfort, since you’re asleep, but regardless he immediately starts to tug on it. You stir, and he freezes.

“No, don’t wake up,” he whispers. “Just fixing this for you.”

“M’kay, thanks Osc,” you reply, wrapping a hand around his wrist. “Cuddle me.”

“Baby, I just got home from work, I’m sweaty-”

“Don’t care,” you grumble, reaching for him when he stands up and causing the hoodie to ride up over your stomach. “Miss you. Cuddle me.”

“Let me shower quick, and then I’m all yours, okay?” He pulls the hem of the hoodie down as he leans over and kisses your forehead.

You twiddle the drawstring that he fixed between your fingers as you wait for him, thinking about how sweet he is to pay such close attention to you all the time.

– watching your favorite movies with you

Nobody is perfect, and in your eyes, Oscar’s only imperfection is that he’s never seen Star Wars. As a life-long, diehard fan, you decided to wait until you’d been with him for a few months to introduce him to that side of you and invite him over for a Star Wars marathon.

“I hope these live up to the hype,” Oscar teases, surveying the way you’ve decorated the entire living area with Star Wars paraphernalia, prepared Star Wars inspired snacks, and just laid a Star Wars blanket across the both of you.

“Are you joking? It will be everything I say it is and more, now be quiet.” You shush him as the main theme begins.

You peek over at him over and over throughout every movie, almost watching him more than the films to see how he reacts to every little moment. You start to watch him more intensely during Revenge of The Sith, but ultimately your focus goes back to the movie when Padme arrives on Mustafar to confront Anakin, Obi-Wan secretly in tow.

Oscar’s enjoying the movies, of course, but even without seeing them he knows how well you know this upcoming scene. He’s heard you recite it so many times under your breath at various times that he feels like he might be able to surprise you with his minimal well of knowledge within the next few minutes. He grins to himself as the penultimate moment of the scene grows closer and closer and you sit up straight, accidentally knocking his arm off of your shoulders without noticing as you move to the edge of the couch.

“I have brought peace, freedom, justice, and security to my new empire!” Anakin says on screen, and you say the words at the same time.

“Your new empire?” Obi-Wan replies. Oscar mouths the words along with him, gathering up his nerve.

“Don’t make me kill you,” you and Anakin warn.

“Anakin, my allegiance is to the Republic, to democracy!” Oscar exclaims, getting a little ahead of Obi-Wan in his enthusiasm.

“If you’re not with me,” you and Anakin say as you slowly turn to face your boyfriend, “then you’re my enemy.”

“Only a Sith deals in absolutes.” Oscar and Obi-Wan reply evenly, Oscar unable to hide the smile on his face at your barely contained excitement. “I will do what I must.”

“You will try.” Only Anakin says this final line, because you launch yourself at Oscar and bear hug him.

“You knew the lines! You did so well!” You cheer, kissing his head, his temple, his cheeks.

“You say them all in your sleep, that’s how I knew,” Oscar says, flushed from your sudden onslaught of affection.

“I do not!” He gives you a look. “Okay, I wouldn’t be surprised if I did, but still! You knew! I can’t believe- oh, wait, shh!” You shush him again, even though you’re the one talking. “Pay attention, this part is so good.”

Oscar’s smile doesn’t fade for the rest of the night as he pulls you back into his side, knowing that while this is the first, it definitely isn’t the last time he’s watching these movies with you.

– nose kisses

Oscar is the first and only person to kiss you on the nose, and you’re glad. It’s become such an Oscar thing that if anyone else did it you’d feel wrong.

The first time he did it had been a complete accident– all the lights were off already, you were both exhausted, and he was just trying to give you a goodnight kiss, but completely overshot your lips and ended up getting your nose instead.

“I’m too tired to apologize, I’ll do it in the morning,” he grumbled, and you had simply snuggled closer to him.

“S’alright, I liked it.”

After that it became the place he kissed you the most. He gives you a nose kiss first thing in the morning and last thing at night. At this point, he kisses your nose more than anywhere else, including your lips. You ask him for a kiss, and he kisses your nose.

“A real kiss,” you whine, and he furrows his eyebrows at you.

“That was a real kiss.”

“On the lips, like a normal person, please.”

Oscar crosses his arms over his chest. “Now hold on, I thought you said you liked it.”

“I do!” You protest. “It’s very sweet, but sometimes I want to actually kiss my boyfriend.”

He gives in easily, but the nose kisses are never ending. Posing for a picture? He wants to kiss your nose. Saying goodbye? You’re getting a nose kiss. He’s about to get in the car to race? He’s kissing your nose before he puts his helmet on.

While you love getting “real” kisses, Oscar’s nose kisses are more precious to you than any other kind of kiss.

note: here is the prompt list i used for this; this was a different format than how i usually write so i hope it was good! this is also the first full fic i’m posting that isn’t in the 3k word range which is shocking jdjfkfkf

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @mia-rrrs @customsbyjcg-blog @hauntedphotographybookstaco @bigheartsthings @northpizzasposts @notturlover @riv3rbank @gesfjjsl @oliveisunstable @lily1sposts @sadbut-true0 @lilcowboy0 @alltoowelltaylor @kimis-gloves @superheroreader @alexmarie29 @anedpev @lalalaphie @waitingforsmartpeople @arrowenchantress @zillygoose @its-cat-eyes @gxllumsriddles @fionaschicken @mrsgeorgerussell63 @bre013 @lizzypiastri @blldsnjs @samantha-chicago @homosexualjohnwayne @opheliabluewolff @catbat011 @drivelikeiido @what-is-happening-helpp @decafmickey @tania2748 @steviesscoops @annahowardsworld @nessacarty1 @tswizzleismother @anythingforourmoonsy @meko-mt @solonelystill @tomriddleswhorecruxes @sammykiszkalover @landosgirl

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Ahhhh I've been waiting for your requests to open, I've been following you since your first Price fic and never had an idea to request until like 2 weeks ago 😫 so, I've been thinking, what about being in a relationship with Keegan but getting separated when ODIN hits the earth and not meeting again until about 5 years later? 👀 Love your writing, hope you have a great day 🩵 :)

For The Weak And Weary

PAIRING: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: When ODIN struck you had thought he had died, sky alight with fire. It had taken years to accept it, much less live with it. But after Dallas falls, would you get a glimpse of your Lover's phantom again?

WORDCOUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Angst, depressive thoughts, PTSD insinuations, gore, wounds, blood, death, canon-typical violence, (1) suggestive joke, alcohol, hallucinations, fluffy reunion, tears, verbal arguments, etc.

A/N: Just because I'm a sucker for sticking to the game timeline I made it ten years, lol. Enjoy, Anon! Very fun prompt.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You could never make sense of what Keegan went through in 2005 during Operation Sand Viper. It would be pointless to try and wrap your head around it from what little you knew. All that mattered was that when he came back on leave, something in his eyes was…damaged. Hell, he’d only been sixteen—the both of you had known each other since you were kids, you knew when something was wrong.

And this was entirely new to you.

He smiled less and snapped more; got spooked when you dropped something in his family's kitchen like a grenade had gone off. Maybe, you reasoned, he thought one actually had. 

But through it all, you could still see how much he cared about you. When you were old enough you’d both moved into a nice place in the suburbs and started a relationship—a life shared between the two of you. 

You knew he loved you from the way he’d grip you close at night and breathe into your scalp. How when you were sick from the take-out dinner he’d brought home, Keegan would hold back your hair and rub circles into your spine as you threw up. He never shied away from telling you how beautiful you were; prided himself on it. Keegan loved to show you off.

But there were times back then when you wondered if the same Keegan that had been so fulfilled to join Ghosts had died, and, in fact, a phantom was instead puppeting his skin. He was so quiet now.

If you’d known that the world was going to end on July 10th, 2017, you’d have never let him walk out that door angry. You would have grabbed his hand and pressed your lips to his, whispered affirmations into his flesh and sobbed at the cruelty of it all.

“I can’t keep pretending that you’re okay!” You yell, tears in your eyes, at the man standing tense in the kitchen doorway. Blank blue eyes stare lifelessly. “Keegan—this is killing you.” 

It was early morning by then, and the neighborhood was quiet. The house that the both of you had moved into years ago was littered with the remnants of a happy home. Pictures on the walls, dishes in the sink, and freshly baked bread on the counter. All you’d tried to do was give Keegan a hug, slipping your hands around his waist when you’d entered. 

He’d balked back, jerking to the side and nearly elbowed you in the gut before he saw your wide eyes and stopped himself. The way he’d looked at you…how could eyes be so dead?

“You need to talk to someone,” you put your foot down, shaking your head. “I-I don’t know a therapist or…or someone who can get you proper help because I can’t keep acting like I can live like this.” 

Every mission, every time he went away, it always got worse. 

Keegan’s eyes get sharp, hands at his sides clenching. He speaks in a low growl. “I don’t need to talk to a shrink, alright? I’m fine, you just startled me.”

“Bullshit,” your mouth hisses, glaring. “You thought you were back in ‘05.”

The man points at you, strong jaw clenching, “Don’t.”

“Keegan,” you plead, “please, I love you! I don’t care about this, I just want you to be alright. To be able to live your life—”

“What you want is to try and change me!” The black-haired man barks. Your eyes blink in shock. Keegan rarely yelled. “I already told you I was fine, why don’t you get off my back all the time?” His eyes flash, pupils going to slits as his hands shake at his sides. Why did he look scared? Your breath stills, lips slightly open, with tears dripping to the tile. “Fuck, it’s like I can’t come home without you pesterin’ me ‘bout something!” 

A stiff silence falls.

“Kee—” He snaps a hand to his mouth and rubs at his stubble, suddenly unable to look at you.

“...Forget it.” It’s low and shaky how he says it, eyes wide, before he darts into the foyer and slips into his boots. You listen to the sounds of panicked shuffling before the man wrenches open the front door and slams it shut behind him. One of the picture frames falls and hits the ground with a shattering of glass.

You flinch and tense, taking down a terse breath and sniffling tightly. Trying to get your lungs to work properly, your feet take you over to the picture as they feel weak and uneven; a stuttering mess of steps before you bend down. Your fingers bleed as they shift the glass away, taking out the image of you and Keegan on your hike through the mountains. 

Smiling faces mock you, and you break at the bright and open affection Keegan wears as he looks down at you—eyebrows curved up and smirk like a knife to the chest. 

You loved him so much it hurt to breathe when he was away. 

He had needed time, you knew, but what you didn’t know was that time wouldn’t be available. Around noon the world had opened into a ball of fire and death. 27 million dead. Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Houston, and Miami…all gone…at least, that was what everyone in Dallas was telling you. 

When Keegan had been away taking a walk to calm himself, you’d been home alone. The earth caved, the ground shook; houses burst like balloons. By the time you’d crawled from the rubble of your home, all you had was the picture and the clothes on your back. People were screaming—you were screaming. But you knew that you couldn’t stay here if you wanted to survive. 

And then you’d made it to Dallas by sheer luck and the few tricks Keegan had taught you; had thought that he had died in that first strike by the Federation. You carried that guilt and self-hatred for not holding your tongue for a few more hours. 

So much could have been different in these ten years. Better. You never got over him for even a second. 

But the reality was that you couldn’t think about all of that now, because if you didn’t focus on holding your breath you would be dead in the next three seconds. 

Your hand is anchored to the body of your sniper rifle, finger hovering over the trigger as you hide behind the outcropping of rubble in the decimated cityscape; the air is hot and humid despite the weight of the night. It sticks to your skin in a sheen of violent sweat. Yet it’s still not as potent as the blood. 

Teeth gritted, you hold back whimpers as Federation soldiers stalk the grounds, scores of them—legions. An entire army that had breached the walls and executed everyone insight, soldiers, civilians, if it once moved it didn’t anymore. The burning in your shoulder was agonizing, head smashing itself back to the rubble in an attempt to stifle your own ragged need to scream into the night as layers had peeled back to allow a bullet to pass through. 

In the ten years you’d been here, you’d taken up the mantle of quite the sharpshooter; pulling on Keegan’s lessons when he was on leave and wanted to bring you to the firing range. You had even picked a rifle similar to the one back in your destroyed home—held in a plastic case and treated like royalty by your long-deceased lover. It wasn’t the same, but the jet-black Lynx made you steady like the picture in your breast pocket did. 

A reminder of what was lost and why you had picked the knock-off up in the first place.

Footsteps get closer as the sweep of a flashlight cards above your skull, if possible you go even more still, lips pulled in and heart rampaging. There were barked orders and yelling, but no more screaming. 

How long had you been unconscious after taking that shot to the shoulder? Fear was breeding with horror—was…was everyone dead?

Spanish is loudly called not five feet away, and the flashlight leaves as your breath does. You let off a quiet gasp and suck down air greedily. Eyes flashing from one shadow to another, you look for any opportunity to slip away from the city. In the wind, you could smell fire, and taste it on your tongue as you licked your lips. 

All around you can see the limp shadows of bodies and the apartments, large skyscrapers were on fire deep in their frames. The city was entirely lost.

How the federation got into the walls you would never know, though there was concern about the enemy soldiers rounding up civilians outside the walls and executing them. Maybe one cracked before the bullet entered their skull.

You bite hard into your lip to force back your pain. Trying to shoot a rifle would be useless at this point, you might as well have lost the limb. Slinging the gun’s strap over your head, you look back and forth along your visible perimeter, checking for hostiles as you unsheathe your combat knife and cradle your limp arm to your chest. 

If only Keegan could see you now.

Rounds of gunfire make the air burn with urgency, and you take the time to peek out behind as sweat makes a trail down your dirty face, dripping off of your chin as you breathe like a wheezing dog. Your wound needed tending, and you had the med pack on your vest with the supplies, but you can’t do it here.

Where’s safe? If Dallas has fallen…is there anywhere that’s still standing? A location hits your brain as your gaze darts from one abandoned street to another. You take a deep breath and whine as you force your legs to stand and move quickly, feet shifting as quietly as you’re able to make them. 

“Fort Santa Monica.” Now a stronghold, you’d heard US soldiers here talking about the large presence of military power out in California—numbers so great they rivaled those that had lived in Dallas. 

You stumble over a spasming body and slam your uninjured shoulder into the bulk of the building’s wall, groaning loudly like a wounded boar. 

“Fuck!” If you made it out of the city, that would be where you would have to go; to warn them of what was coming. The Federation had found a way inside the Dallas wall, and that meant if they had enough tenacity, they could do it to them too. 

Everything would be done if another city fell.  

Holding your knife tighter, you push off the wall and grit your teeth harder, mind running on that edge of hysteria and forced calm. It’s in these moments where you have to pull on old memories to keep you going—even if they end up hurting more than the open wounds you carry. 

Keegan had his bad moments, but you always got through them together. Years and years of knowing each other inside and out; memorizing bodies and thoughts like they were second nature. He would want you to keep fighting, tell you to get your ass in gear and go…and you would never let him down. 

You owed him that much even if some days you wanted more than anything to join him. 

Blade in hand, you hear muttered speech from up the alleyway and pause, feet splayed but still swaying as you come to a slow stop. Your ears ring at garbled sentences, foreign words spilling into one another. 

Panting, you listen closely, limbs vibrating. More gunfire echoes over the air, screams and death that get ingrained into your head like a brand into sizzling flesh. Skyscrapers burned and buildings fell with great earthquake booms. Everything is under a sheen of distance.

Get out of the city. Get to Fort Santa Monica.

“Kill who I have to,” you slur out, itching at your neck as you leave a trail of blood behind you. A single pair of footsteps walk quickly forward near your corner and you hold your breath, bringing up your knife as pain pounds in your arm. 

Deep blue eyes sit in the back of your mind, counting you down as they always did.

Keep your arm steady for me, Doll, a phantom tells you. Breathe...

When the first shadow of a Fed soldier graces your eyes, you strike. 

—

It’s roughly nineteen days from Dallas to Santa Monica, and that was if you kept up at a steady walking pace. If the crude sling you’d fashioned from bandages found in your med pack was any indicator, it would be double that. 

On the first day, you had hiked half-dead over the destroyed landscape of what remained of the USA, licking your wounds and counting your losses. You’d had your pick of abandoned houses, taking a red brick one just because it looked nice and you were about to pass out from blood loss. The only reason you’d made it this far was that the bullet had thankfully passed right through you, making sure that if you moved too suddenly no more damage was being done internally. You packed it with a sterile rag.

Sitting in the home, pictures gathering dust on the fireplace mantle, you tipped back a bottle of whisky you’d found in one of the bedrooms, grimacing at the sting. It was better to be drunk for what you were about to do. 

Heating up your combat knife in the fire you had started in the hearth, you watched the metal grow an eye-flinching white as you stared off into nothingness. 

“You remember when you showed me that scar, Keegan?” You always talked to him. Others had given you shit for it, but they knew the purpose. If you didn’t talk to someone, even a ghost, you would give up. 

The guilt was eating you alive, and it would overtake you eventually. Hadn’t in ten years, but it would…you knew it, everyone did. 

Keegan was everything, and nothing looked the same when you lost him.

“The one on your thigh?” Pulling the knife back, you turn to the leaking flesh of your shoulder, gushing blood as black desecrates the sides of your eyes. You’d taken off your vest and shirt. If you tried hard enough you could imagine Keegan standing in the corner, watching. Always watching. “You said you had to dig a bullet out and cauterize the wound—when I asked you said you barely felt it over all the adrenaline.”

The ghost tilts its head, eyes sad and lips pulling taunt. Your lungs take in a shaky inhale and your hand quivers; only you feel how your eyes burn with unshed tears. 

“I never thought about it before,” right as you growl and shove the knife into your skin, you bark out in fear, “But I think you were fucking lying!” 

On day two, you knew you had to avoid the remains of Fort Worth, so you decided to increase your distance and cut that landmark out entirely—too many remnants of Federation. They were everywhere now, and you needed to keep low; get out of Texas. You scavenged properties and took stock. 

Four magazines for your Lynx, a pouch with five protein bars, one bottle of water attached to your belt, and your knife. Normally you’d have a pistol at your thigh, but you’d used it up in the firefight back home. When you’d woken back up, it had been gone.

And, of course, you had the picture. You kissed Keegan’s face and placed it back in your breast pocket, caressing the material softly before clearing your throat and addressing the obvious. 

With what you had getting to California was a pipe dream. 

You’d been on the radio all day, clicking through channels and pleading for anyone alive to reach out. Nothing. Static. 

I’m the only one left. The thought was intoxicating, pounding in your skull like your hangover. Everyone is dead. 

While you had become somewhat of a loner in the last ten years, especially with the few months you’d been by yourself in the beginning, Dallas had given you a chance to build bonds again. Ten years, and in an instant it was all wiped out. 

It rang a devastating bell.

Somehow, you had cheated death where so many others had failed—not only in Texas, but back with ODIN too. You had survived, but somehow Keegan hadn’t. 

Keegan, the one who never spoke about ‘05 and jerked awake from nightmares years later because of it. Keegan, who wanted nothing more than to stay at your side when he was home and keep you on his chest when watching movies. Keegan, the love of your life.

The only love of your life. 

“I really wish you were here,” you mutter, grimacing as your arm gets jostled as you stumble over a piece of rusted metal in the empty street. “Who gave you the right to go away before me, huh? We were supposed to grow old together, Russ. You promised me that.” 

Garbage gets blown over the road when a hot breeze shifts the air, bringing the scent of dirt and the noise of rustling trees. Nature has reclaimed the towns and suburbs—great patches of ivy and long grass that rise to your hips. But the silence was a curse.

The only thing keeping you going is the thought of delivering your warning to Santa Monica, from there…

Your lips thinned. What even was there left? How many times could you go from one place to another, starting over with stories of your past and having to brush the pitying looks off as you fake a smile? 

Shaking your head, you recall memories from the better days as the light gets low in the sky. 

“You’re doin’ too much, Sweet Thing,” Keegan mutters, and you turn from the stove top with a bright smile to face him. 

He had just gotten out of the shower, towel ruffling through his dark hair as he stands in the kitchen entrance and watches you cook for him. The shirt hangs off of his wide shoulders, and gray sweatpants are loose over his formed hips—his strong brow line raises in a casual expression. 

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” you tease, hearing his low chuckles as you turn back to your pan. “You look good, y’know.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Keegan grunts, smirking, and his feet pad over to you, tossing the towel to the counter as his presence looms over your back. Large hands grab onto your hips and a nose burrows into your hair; inhaling deeply before gradually melting to the curve of your spine. 

You smile and hum, pushing back so you can rest on his chest. A chin sets itself on your head, deep massaging fingers making you pur as they bunch your sleep shorts.

It was late—nearly two in the morning. Keegan had only gotten home a short while ago, but sleep wasn’t going to stop you from spoiling him. A wine bottle was on the island counter, two glasses, and the food was nearly done from what you could scrounge up on short notice.

“...Good to be back,” the man grumbles into you, kissing your head and slowly sweeping his arms around your waist as you sighed softly at the contact. 

Your face gains heat. 

“Well, I’d sure hope so, or else this would be awkward.” You huff to hide the bright smile in your voice. But like a moth to flame, you hear, as well as feel, Keegan chuckle against your spine. His grip squeezes you for a moment. 

“How was it when I was away?” He asks as you move around the contents in the pan, nose brushing your neck as his lips travel to kiss behind your ear. He breathes against the flesh as his low rasp makes you shiver. “Any trouble?”

“Negative, Sergeant,” you raise a brow and smirk over your shoulder at him, seeing his blues spark as he gazes hard into your eyes. A faint twitch to his lips is what you get before his hand captures your cheek; anchoring your face as he descends to connect his mouth to yours.

He sighs into it, arm still around your waist—tight as if you were a pillow. 

“Keep talkin’ like that and we won’t have to wait long for dessert, will we?” 

Days three through seven were uneventful beyond the constant agony of your arm and tired legs, but on day eight amid a waterless walk in the sweltering heat was when the hallucinations began. 

Keegan walks beside you, his footsteps mirroring your own as sweat pools down your forehead and drips off your nose. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you—he just walks, looking exactly like he did the day he died. 

At first, you’d flinched back and blinked wildly at the sight, panting, but then he’d disappeared and your heart had shattered. It worried you with what you were seeing, but it was also a strange comfort to be able to ramble to…something, even if it wasn’t real. Hungry and with a dry tongue, you were on the verge of calling it quits.

So on day eleven, without a wild animal in sight to give you a proper food source and all the water having to be purified, you started talking to him while licking the inside wrapper of your last protein bar. 

“But I never understood why you hated sleeping in shirts,” you licked your lips to get the remnants of granola off of your flesh, pushing away the greasy sheen from your cheeks. Your arm was burning up—every heartbeat was felt as it moved the skin around red and infected flesh up and down. Puss was leaking out from the crude stitches you had made of embroidery thread from that first house you’d found. 

“And you always kept the room freezing.” Continuing, you drop the wrapper to the ground and then take the meat of your fingers and get what little flavor you can off of them, grunting through realization. “That was a ploy to have me use you for heat, wasn’t it? Jesus.” 

The man in the corner of your vision smirks, tilting his head and chuckling from where he leans against a tree trunk. 

“Yeah, that’s right. Knew it.” Glaring at nothing, you stand from your overturned stump and nearly fall right back over, stomach yelling at you as your vision swirls. 

You dig a hand into your hair and grip at the strands, pulling and groaning. “...God.” 

Keegan comes over and stands above you, your eyes staring down at his feet as you get light-headed. You focus on his shoelaces, counting the Xs and taking down shaky breaths. When you blink like a cat with dirt on its face, the shoes are gone entirely and you stand back up to your full height.

“...Keegan?” You ask after a moment, the words disappearing into the trees, but no one’s around. 

Your sight goes to your wound and your jaw tightens, moments of clarity slipping in as a knife would into your consciousness before the curtain settles once more. 

You bend over and vomit what little nutrients you had, spending day twelve sleeping through a fit of nightmares and fever-induced delirium.

Nothing about the remainder of the time you can recall to memory—bits and pieces always flash through on long nights, but they’re only walking montages. Dragging feet, looking at your hand as if it was a foreign object as you turned it back and forth; everything in a sheen of sickness. Days and days and days. Little food. Less water. 

More than one-thousand miles.

But somehow, the Wall peels out in front of you as you crash through the foliage, your body giving out and collapsing down a large decline. Bouncing and getting jostled by rocks, you come to a stop without the strength to get back up, staring blankly ahead as your head connects with concrete. Your mouth is open in broken inhales, pain not even registering. 

Shouts echo, the pound of rapid feet. 

Green eyes meet yours, a youthful face with a beanie and stubble. He’s saying something to you, glancing over your gear and your obvious near-death situation—his hand jostles the side of your face. But your eyes shift behind him gradually, attention falling to someone more important. 

Before you finally let yourself rest, you stare at the smiling face of your steadfast phantom.

—

The doctors and nurses at Fort Santa Monica were nice, if a bit secretive about the entire operation. Seeing as you weren’t an official soldier, no dog tags or patches—no name in the database—everyone was a bit hesitant to tell you anything. 

Until you said you were from Dallas, of course. 

But no one was eager to rush you in your state, even if the information was dire. You had been hooked up to an IV and bedridden for a week straight; talking to nothing on account of the dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. Some days you spend unconscious. 

But what really pissed you off when you got back into it, was the fact that they had taken your Lynx and your gear—your picture.

You’d almost grappled onto the first nurse you’d seen when you’d woken without it. It was a beacon, your prized possession of damaged corners and taped tears. Water damage that may or may not have been from sobbing fits in the first five years. 

In fact, that was the entire reason you had snuck out so late in the first place. 

Stalking down the hallway in the white shirt and camo pants that had been given to you on the fifth morning you had woken up here, you pad along with no shoes, only plain gray socks. You limp with bandaged flesh all along your healing shoulder and your feet. 

The doctor had explained that you’d entirely skinned the bottoms and your heels were a mess of blisters and open wounds. 

“Take my property,” you grumble under your breath, shuffling along and rubbing at the back of your neck. “What gives them the right?” 

You weren’t going to stop until you found it. 

Reading the name tags on the walls, you silently wonder where they would have taken your stuff as you slip out of the medical ward, listening to the buzzing of the lights and frowning. As you’re limping along the next hallway, a man suddenly turns the corner on nearly silent feet. 

“Woah!” You halt immediately, heart jumping in your chest. A hand catches your shoulder before you run headlong into him. 

Green eyes lock with your own, wide and blinking quickly. Brows furrow and you’re quickly looked over before a slow, teasing remark enters the air, you listen with a growing heat on your neck.

“Y’know, I could have sworn you were supposed to be in bed, Ma’am. I miss something here?” The man who had found you. 

“Wouldn’t know,” you say blandly, blinking up at him and taking a careful step back. This brunette had a casual air to him—still in his gear despite the time. He folds his arms and tilts his head at you, smirking. “If you’ll excuse me.” 

You begin to walk forward, slipping past him and hoping you won’t get snitched on. Except it seems you’ll be having a shadow, as not a few seconds later a smooth chuckle meets your ears and the man walks beside you. 

“I think I’ll be taggin’ along if you don’t mind. Security and all.” He turns to face you, sticking out his opposite hand. “Hesh.”

“That supposed to be some kind of nickname, Kid?” You raise a stiff brow but participate in the handshake nonetheless. His grip is firm but not hard. 

Hesh blinks at you, eyes swimming with amusement before he shrugs in a boyish way and shakes his head with a laugh. “Hell, you remind me of someone, Ma’am.” A moment passes in silence as you study the area. The man huffs, “Where exactly are we off to?” 

“Wonderland,” your lips grumble, tired and wanting to sleep but not until you find your picture. Hesh sighs but you can still hear the hilarity inside of it. 

“Alright then…don’t know if you’re going to be finding a shrinking potion anytime soon, though. We’re in low stock.”

“Very funny,” your eyes send a dry look, but you relent when he prods you with his eyes, taking a corner. “I’m looking for my vest.” Hesh blinks at you in curiosity, letting you elaborate as you motion to your upper shoulder. “My pouch has some of my personal belongings. I don’t like being away from it.” 

“Oh,” the brunette nods a few times, his beanie jerking along. “Yeah, that’s no problem.” A hand is waved and you stare in confusion as he pivots. “C’mon, I’ll get you there.” 

Your eyes burn into his back before you immediately speed after. 

“Why so eager to help?” Hesh smirks at your question. 

“As I see it, if you went over nineteen days of hard hiking just to get to us, you should at least be able to keep your stuff on you, Ma’am.” Your lips flicker in a smile. 

“You’d be the first.” You tell him your name and miss the slight emotion it provokes in his eyes, head lightly pulling to the side but ultimately saying nothing. Hesh shrugs with a grunt, leading you to a meeting room on the opposite side of the building. 

Yelling is on the other side.

“Elias, how long has this been kept from me?!” The voice makes your head perk, evoking something inside of your chest. Hesh seems taken aback too, holding up a hand to you for momentary silence—not that you had to be told. 

“Keegan, I can’t have that happen. She needs to recover and you being there could jeopardize that. We need what she knows about Dallas.” Your body stills to a near-frozen state, and it’s comedic how your entire face falls to a blank slate. Wait a second.

…Keegan?

“She belongs with me—I thought she fucking died and she’s been here for who knows how long?! Why wasn’t I informed?” Rampaging feet suddenly sound off, going to the door at break-neck speed.

“Son, that’s not a good idea. This is what I was worried would happen if you found out.”

“I didn’t exactly ask, did I? As far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters besides getting back to my Girl,” the bark is ferocious and violent, more of an animal’s than a man’s. “Now where the hell did you put her before I tear this damn fort apart and—” You shove at the door before Hesh can grab you, throwing it open and letting it hit the opposite wall with a great boom of wood. 

Your wild eyes instantaneously lock into sharp blues, pulse pounding in your ears. It’s like all the air is taken from your lungs in a great punch. 

Oh, he’s so similar to how you remembered him to be ten years ago. 

Keegan stands only a few feet away, turned in your direction with his eyes so wide and small you might faint. There’s black face paint in his sockets, making the cerulean all the more bright and shocking to the senses. He’s still tall, still built, if only a bit more rugged than when ODIN struck—there are lines on his forehead and his scars are more faded. Small differences in the way he holds himself like the difference between a rabbit and a hare. Keegan’s black locks are shorter now, but still…his.

Lips part in silent shock, an entire halt of your nervous system. 

The entire universe holds its tongue as you two stare at each other; walls and rooms blur into a mess of matter and reality—this couldn’t be real. 

Keegan’s feet shift for a moment as if to steady himself as his fingers twitch. In his hand, he holds your picture, his body covered in gear and weapons. He blinks as you tell yourself he’s a phantom, simply that same ghost come back to haunt you as tears sting the backs of your eyes. But then he speaks, and it’s the same voice you had slowly lost the ability to remember in year three. 

“...Sweetheart?”

His ghost never spoke. His ghost could not imitate the phonics of his speech or the rhythm of his throat. His ghost could not make you recall the memories you’d long since boxed up.

You jerk forward just as he does, bodies colliding into a feral grip of flesh and fabric, hands latching and faces burying. Sobs rip from you as Keegan’s shaky breath echoes right next to your ear—his chest hitching and arms snatching your waist and lifting you up as easily as he always had. He holds you up without any thought of putting you down, legging your legs dangle as Elias slowly exits the room and corrals a highly confused Hesh with him.

The door shuts, but neither of you notices. 

“Keegan—” Your voice is high with emotion, hardly believing what you're seeing—what you’re touching. “Oh, my God.” 

He had been alive all this time? Ten whole years and you’d thought he was dead. But by the way he was barely letting you breathe from in his iron clutch, you imagined Keegan had thought the same about you. It was…incomprehensible. 

“Shh,” he whispers, his shushes cracking and flinching between broken gasps of your name. “Shh.” He sets you down on the floor only to have his firm hands travel to your cheeks, turning your head to each side in a desperate need to understand if you were really there.

Keegan’s eyes are wet, but no tears let themselves fall quite yet. 

“I’m so sorry!” You hiccup and the man kisses your cheeks—your browline and nose. Every piece of you he can as you both stay so intimate you might melt into one another. “I thought you were gone, I-I should have stayed and looked for you, I didn’t—”

“You’re alive?” Keegan’s hands rub across your body, gripping and tugging you closer and closer. “My Girl’s alive?” 

His tears drip to your face as he hovers above you, and you both shake with the weight of years. 

“Me?” Your chuckle through sobs—you want to scream and wail at the same time. Blue eyes flutter and ragged breaths puff on your forehead. “What about you, you asshole?” 

Keegan shakes his head, and you stare deeply into him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks as he sags forward. He had stubble now, spreading out to grate your flesh. 

The man forces a weak huff. 

“Christ,” is all he mutters before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss so unyielding you expect to have your air stolen. Ten years to feel him kissing you again—to feel his warm flesh under your hands and his heart rampage into you. 

You’d do it all over if it still amounted to this.

Your body shivers and you reciprocate with just as much fervor; this emotion of relief is so overwhelming and all-consuming that it makes your head light. You suck down quick breaths between the sensation of your lips meeting, Keegan doing the same. 

Unconsciousness was better than letting him leave again, your lover sharing that sentiment as chests slid against one another. Soft hair slips through your fingers as you grip Keegan’s hair, cascading through locks as he groans into your lips and tries to hide his tears from you. 

He pulls away and immensely shoves his head into your neck. 

“You’re here,” he whispers quickly. A hand quivers at the back of your head as your tears wet his gear. “You’re right here. You came back to me, didn’t you, Doll?” 

You cry, “I’m here, Keegan.” The man sobs when he hears you say his name, his knees giving out as you both fall to the floor and not letting the other move beyond the caress of skin and lips.

“I missed you,” Keegan gasps, “so much. Don’t you understand? I was nothing without you. You took it all from me, everything. Every damn thing.” 

You press kisses to his neck and racing pulse, healing him inside and out without even realizing it; it was only fair, he was doing the same back to you. 

The picture lays long forgotten on the floor.

“Never let me go,” your voice forces out, as he rocks you back and forth like a child. “Never again, Keegan. Please, I love you too much to go through that again.”

“Never,” he immediately promises, pulling back and kissing your lips again—neither can stop themselves from this. Blues eyes blink quickly, cataloging your face and every little blemish he’d have to relearn and study; to find the story behind. Keegan had never been happier. He felt like he might break from it. “Over my dead body, I’m never lettin’ you out of my sight. You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh genuinely for the first time in ten years and say you’d like nothing better as he pulls you back in and plants his mouth to yours in reverent worship. His arms trapping you to him as yours do just the same.

Not to leave again anytime soon. 

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[remuslupinslittleslut]

No, like this

Anon asked: I need more of the teach me dynamic like that was so hot. The way Remus helped Sirius ate you out using his hair holy fuck that was hot. maybe it’s like Remus gets jealous cause it’s close to the full moon so he shows the boys how to properly fuck a girl and it’s super rough maybe and then James and Sirius are just there jerking off like super turned on by the scene cause wow Remus is really good at making reader be loud.

And YES! I love this dynamic and this ask was so very lovely and gave me so much inspiration THANK YOU BABE <333

Here's a very jelly remus, pre full moon, showing his friends how to fuck his girl hot damn

Masterlist. (Teach us part one. And part two. Though it can easily be read on it's own, just the same dynamics <3)

“No, you’re doing it all wrong,” Remus growled.

You were laid out on your back, James on top of you, hips moving against yours at a steady rhythm. It was good, really good. But the full moon was getting closer, and Remus was aggravated, jealous and very territorial of you.

James whined at the harsh words, and you kissed his nose telling him, “You’re doing well darling, keep going.”

He did, though not quite as confidently as before. His head came down to rest in the crook of your neck, and you felt his cheeks were heated from embarrassment. You and Remus had taught both James and Sirius a lot since your first night together, and they’d both made great progress, all the while Remus was perfectly okay with sharing you – as you also did share him with his friends.

James had just started to get it right with each thrust again – making you moan and whine, telling him what a good boy he was being – when Remus interrupted yet again.

“No, move,” he said, standing up and pushing James off of you, making all three of you gasp (Sirius wouldn’t miss this show for anything in the world), “let me show you how to fuck her properly.”

It was, to put it plainly, rude. You would have to talk to Remus about it later, that he can’t act that way with your littles, but he was so sexy, towering above you, hands tugging at his buckle, trying to free himself for you. You knew what was to come would be life changing-ly amazing, and you did not want to get in the way of Moony when he was tearing at the seams of Remus like this.

Remus was finally naked, standing next to the bed, where James still lay, “I said move.” James did, shying away, trudging toward Sirius’ bed.

“Arms above your head, darling,” he said, steadying his body above yours. You did as you were told, knowing not to argue at this moment. “See, you’ve gotta tell a slut what to do, she’s too dumb to think on her own.” This wasn’t really true – though you loved letting go of all your common sense to let Remus take full control, so you did.

He didn’t give any warning before he pushed himself into you, widening your tight little hole, taking your body from you. “Little sluts like this don’t need to be warmed up, she can take it, right love?” You nodded, knowing you hadn’t been given permission to speak.

His hips snapped against yours at a brutal pace, it almost hurt, you knew it would later, but the way the head of him pushed against your walls felt too good. While he was fucking you, he kept narrating the whole thing, “yeah, that’s right, touch your little cocks to my girl, hear that? My girl. You’ve gotta move faster, harder, like this.”

It was so hot, having your life fucked out of you by your boyfriend while your other two partners watched, touching themselves. You could finally show them the Remus you knew, the Remus who could make sure you didn’t walk straight for days – he’d been so nice and soft since you invited James and Sirius, but now he was back, with his back-arching, toe-curling, orgasm-giving sex.

You hadn’t been quiet for a while, and when your orgasm washed over you, the sounds coming from somewhere deep in your throat only got louder. “There you go, see this, this’s how you make a girl come.”

Pulling out of you, Remus kissed you once, deep and hard and dirty, before he flipped you over, pulling on your hips to make your ass stick out. Leaning down over you, he kissed down the back of your neck, biting and pulling at the skin, hard teeth scratching soft skin. “You ready, little one?” He asked, almost softly, and when you nodded your head he pulled back and pushed in, in one sweeping motion. The angle from this position was even better and you felt your eyes roll back as you dropped your head against the pillow, feeling another orgasm come creeping.

Holding himself up with one hand on the headboard, the other kept a tight hold on your hair. “Now this is how you fuck a girl real good, she won’t be able to think straight when I’m done with her, shame you’ll never be this good,” the cockiness could be heard in Remus’ voice as his hips kept pushing against yours, your ass shaking with every thrust. “Go on then, come, all over your hands from watching my girl take my cock, go ahead… You too, princess, go ahead, let go f’me…”

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered some grunting from the other bed, though most of your senses were filled with Remus, the wet sound of him thrusting in and out of you, the smell of him on the pillow, of both of your juices mixing somewhere further down on the bed, the taste of him left on your tongue, the sight of a veiny arm holding him up, the feeling of him all over you, against your back, the hands in your hair, his cock inside you, pulsating and ejaculating, filling you up with white, hot spurts of cum, the feeling of it running out of you, the wet patch on the bed between your legs.

And then… nothing.

When you woke up, it was to a hot, wet rag on your face. “Hi, love,” Remus said, kissing your forehead, hand holding your cheek still. “Welcome back, you went out for a bit, but don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of you now, okay baby?”

Smiling, you reached your hands up – not a small feat, considering your arms felt like boiled spaghetti – and took a hold of his face to pull him back down to you, pressing your lips against his.

“And now this is how you perform proper aftercare, don’t ever skip that,” he said, a pointed look directed at his friends, who he was about to treat with some of the same love that you’d received.

Tagged: @remussbitch

[dollfacefantasy]

neglect kink with older leon???!!?!? like… you’re super horny whining and begging for his attention and he’s just. completely ignoring you. maybe he eventually lets you cockwarm him but he’s still ignoring you… the only way you know he’s enjoying this is because he’s still hard… no sounds or nothing. you’re so desperate for ANYTHING a kiss, a touch, literally any words at all but he’s just focused on his work!!! maybe daddy kink because everything needs daddy kink… maybe, like, you did something bad so this is your punishment… i don’t know… maybe he gives you the attention eventually or not!!!!

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: you've been bad, but you never seem to learn from spankings. leon has to try something new to remind you why you should be a good girl.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, cockwarming, masturbation, overstimulation, daddy kink, praise/degradation, age difference, dom/sub stuff (rules, punishment, etc.)

word count: 6.2k

a/n: you're so right, everything does need daddy kink <3 thank you for the request, love. i hope it's what you were wanting. i imagine post-DI leon for this so he's a bit older, but i just used DI for the pic. anyhow, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

Your deep breaths and soft whimpers had overtaken the quiet murmur of the tv in your bedroom. An old movie played on it, one you had seen time and time again. It no longer had your attention. Instead, you’re focusing on playing with the pulsing bud between your legs. Your fingers thrum back and forth over the sensitive spot, hips pushing down against the mattress as sparks fly in your belly.

Technically, you weren’t supposed to be doing this. It was one of the rules you agreed to when Leon had approached you with some things he wanted to try out for your sex life, just a small set of guidelines to play with. ‘No touching yourself without daddy’s permission' had been listed among others. He counted each one on his fingers as he did, and you nodded your head and looked up at him with your sweet set of eyes. The same set that now flutters with ecstasy as you played your forbidden game. But as long as he didn’t know, it was fine, right?

Your heels dig into the blankets beneath you while your breasts rise and sink with each inhale and exhale. You feel that hot sensation between your legs, the tightening cord, the boiling pleasure. You’re about to let it loose until you hear the front door open and shut, keys clatter on the table, and the familiar grunt Leon does when he slips his shoes off, using the tip of one on the heel of the other.

You nearly miss these little cues because of the rain clashing against your windows, but in a stroke of luck, you catch it all and tear your hand out of your shorts at light speed. Leon’s just walking into the bedroom as you drape the blanket over yourself. Shifting around a little to get comfy, you then gaze up at him, putting some tenderness into your eyes in hopes of throwing him off your scent.

As he gets closer, you take in his appearance. Little droplets of water on the shoulders of his jacket from the rain outside. Shiny hair fresh from the shower he took this morning, shaggy bangs hanging down into his face. Tired glaze over his eyes, work must not have been a walk in the park. 

Once he approaches you, he raises his eyebrows, and for a second, you’re sure you’ve been found out. But all he does is sit next to you on the edge of the bed and run a hand over your head. His eyes fixate on you as if he’s studying your features. Your heart pounds, waiting to hear the words belt, over my knee, or sore & stinging leave his lips, but they don’t.

“Been having a nice day, baby?” he asks you, petting your head a few more times.

“Mhm,” you respond. Innocent enough.

“That’s good. What have you been doing?” he asks. Oh fuck.

“Um, just watching a movie,” you answer.

“Yeah? That all?” he continues. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Pretty much. It’s all rainy out. Don’t really feel like getting out of bed,” you say with a casual shrug.

He nods. It seems like an approving gesture, but you could swear there’s a little knowing glint in his eyes. Maybe that’s just your imagination. Hopefully, that’s just your imagination.

“Alright. I gotta go finish up some work for a while, just wanted to check on you first. Keep being a good girl for me,” he tells you. He gives you a small pat on the ass before getting up and walking out of the room as quickly as he had entered.

Your body relaxes, and your pulse descends to normal levels. Maybe you did pull it off. Heist of the century in your book. You settle in to truly just pay attention to the tv for now, but it’s not as simple as it should be when you’re still so pent up. You’d just breached the threshold of release, before you were torn out and back to reality. You could feel the slick that had gathered between your legs, the ache in your clit calling out to your fingers.

The thought of continuing does cross your mind. It would be so easy. Without any suspicion on you, all you would have to do is clamp a hand over your mouth and rub slower so the bed didn't creak. Plus, when he went in his office, he usually worked until the evening anyway. You could cum and be done with it before he had the slightest idea.

No, no, no. You told him you’d be a good girl. You wouldn’t wanna break daddy’s heart by being bad, right? No, you wanted to make him proud. You resign to wait until he wants to play with you. He always did; you can’t recall a night he left you wanting. So you lay on your side, eyes focused on the blue-tinted screen across the room, and keep it together.

But hours go by. And then more hours go by. You keep yourself occupied, marathoning nearly an entire franchise of movies, eating, going on your phone. But none of it fills the Leon-shaped void inside you.

This was the longest he’d ever been in that office. He never worked in there into the night. He always told you that he tried to spend as little time in there as possible. That’s time that could be spent with his good girl, that’s what he told you. Only you hadn’t been a good girl today.

You shake your head, and tell the stupid little voice inside to zip it. He seemed tired, remember? This is probably just an extension of that. He knew he’d have to come home and be in his office all day. It was all a coincidence, this whole thing. There was literally no way he could know what you’d been doing. But daddy knows you better than you know yourself.

Oh god. This was like some form of torture, you’re sure of it. Self-inflicted, or was it really? He was the one who’d made you this way. Whatever. Enough was enough. There was no reason to be paranoid. You could literally just go ask him. Sort this out and soothe your anxiety, so you can go back to waiting patiently like the good girl that you are.

Pushing the covers to the side, you slide out of bed and head down the hall to his office as thunder crackles outside. A gentle push on one of the French doors leads you into the room you rarely entered. Despite that, you liked it in here. Leon’s desk faced away from the door, towards the window that looked out onto the street. The curtains were drawn now, brown fringe overlapping with the spare cushions on the window seat below it. Some bookshelves lined the walls perpendicular to his desk, though you never had the time to actually check their contents.

You walk a few paces into the room. Your eyes cast over to him. He doesn’t even look like he’s doing much for someone working into the night, but who are you to judge? You step over a crinkle in the rug to stand in front of his desk. Your hands rest on the hardwood as you gaze at him over the monitor of his computer.

“Hi,” you say simply.

He nods. A movement so vague that he could’ve told you his head twitched, and you’d believe him.

“Whatcha doing?” you ask.

“Work.”

You stare at him for a moment. Sure, he wasn’t normally super chatty, but he also wasn’t usually so clipped. He knows.

“How’s it going?” you say.

You’re met with a shrug. You have to up your efforts.

Circling around his desk, you position yourself behind him and wrap your arms over his shoulders. You drag your nose against his cheek like an affectionate kitten and kiss the skin a few times.

“How much longer you gonna be in here?” you ask. Your voice remains gentle and undemanding.

“A while,” he grunts. The clacking of the keyboards starts up again, and his eyes remain locked on the documents in front of him.

“But you’ve been in here for hours,” you point out and feign a pout.

“And I’ll be in here for even more if you keep bothering me,” he says with a little gesture that wasn’t fully shrugging you off but at the same time was shrugging you off.

Ouch. Your pout was no longer feigned. You stand up straight and walk back to where you stood originally. He still doesn’t spare you even the smallest of glances.

“Can I stay in here with you?” you ask hesitantly.

“If you want to,” he says. Wow. Not that he wanted you to, no. If you wanted to. Sure, people could call you sensitive for being upset about that, you don’t care. You’re tempted to leave with a huff, slamming the door behind you, but now you’re even more curious if he was aware of your illicit afternoon activities. You kinda hope he is at this point because at least that would give a reason for his icy attitude.

You walk over to the one other chair in the room. Yeah, there was the window seat, but as pretty as you’d made it for him, decorating it with little throw pillows and cute coverings, it wasn’t very comfortable. You plop down on the corduroy cushioning of the beaten-up seat in the corner. with a sigh. Bringing your legs up over the armrest, you lean back against the opposite one and scan the room out of boredom. Your feet swing back and forth absentmindedly as you puff breaths of disinterest from between your lips.

You really try to give him time to finish, but it feels like he’s taking actual eternity. Also, it sounds like he’s barely doing anything, and now you are going to judge because he’s cutting into your precious personal time with him. You stare at him for several minutes, keeping your eyes locked on his face. Unlike any normal person who’d get uncomfortable, he just continues “working.” Finally, you crack.

“How’s it going?” you ask.

No response.

“Are you almost done?” you try again.

Nothing.

Your eyes darken, your frown growing. “Leonnnnn,” you whine.

And still absolutely nothing. You have one more weapon in your arsenal. If this doesn’t work, you know you’ll just have to pack it up for the night.

“Daddy…” you whimper, using the softest voice you could manage, the one that always shot right through him. You jut your bottom lip out a bit more and put that pleading in your eyes. After this, all you have is literal tears, and you’re hoping it doesn’t go to that point.

Leon knows this, and he doesn’t want it to get that far either. He finally spins his chair in your direction. His eyes land on your face. He has to repress the smirk rising to his face over your neediness.

“Funny how that name seems to always slip out most when you want something,” he replies.

At least he wasn’t ignoring you anymore. “All I want is your attention…” you say, keeping up your sweet performance.

“Oh yeah?” he taunts, “Tell me, baby. Were you thinking of daddy today when you were home alone?”

Your eyes dart away from his face, but you force them back. You couldn’t blow this by being too obvious, so you respond with a simple nod.

“I thought so, princess. What else would have had you so riled up today when I came home? It wouldn’t be because you were breaking one of your rules, would it?” he asks. His tone was obviously leading. He knew. You were so desperate for him though that at this point you were starting to think a spanking wouldn’t be that bad. At least it was some form of physical contact to sate you.

“I wasn’t riled up earlier,” you say quietly with a little shrug.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re not lying are you? Cause that’s another rule. Two broken rules in one day. That wounds me, babydoll,” he says.

“I’m not breaking any rules. I’m being honest,” you say.

“So you being all squirmy, hot skin, heavy breathing; that wasn’t you being riled up? Is daddy imagining things now? Do I not know what my girl looks like when she’s aching for me?” he asks, “What she looks like when she’s been trying to solve her little problem herself?”

Finally, he unveils his reasoning. You freeze and stare at him, trying to think of what to say. Even though you wanted attention, there was still that innate part of you that hated being in trouble. You’d much rather be perched on his lap to be loved on like the precious thing you were.

“I don’t know what you mean,” is your weak attempt at an excuse. He laughs and leans back in his chair, the old springs creaking with his motion.

“Did you put your fingers inside or just play with that pretty little clit?” he asks, eyes boring into you as he goes for the kill.

“Just my clit…” you mumble and look down.

Shaking his head again, he turns back to his computer. You watch him, expecting him to start in on you again. To lecture you about your impatience. Tease you about your borderline pathetic need for him. Take you over his knee and crack you on the ass while making you repeat each of your rules back to him.

But none of this happens. Instead, this man just goes back to straight up ignoring you. Your jaw drops and a confused whine comes from your throat. “Daddy, c’mon. I’m sorry,” you say.

He resumes typing, fingers gliding over the keys and eyes fixed on the little words appearing in front of him. You groan in frustration and sink back against the brown ribbed fabric of your chair. You glare at him from your place, trying to telepathically will him into entertaining you again. You must be lacking in mental communication though because he doesn’t change what he’s doing at all. One of your thighs crosses over the other, unintentionally giving your pussy a little friction.

That’s what made this all the more frustrating, you were still unsatisfied from earlier. You should’ve just made yourself cum like you wanted. You’d be in trouble either way. You could only hope he’d take it easy on you now for having chosen the former.

Different scenarios run through your head for how you want to play this. A spectrum of possibilities lies in front of you. On one end, you could just leave. Keep whatever dignity you had left, cut your losses, and go to bed. On the other, you could be over the top. Hop in his lap and smother him with a flurry of kisses before he could object. Either one would probably only earn you more punishment, so you try to think of a middle ground. A way to continue the game.

As you think, your right hand lazily runs up and down your chest. Your middle finger coasts over the area spanning from the valley between your breasts to your navel. Taking your lip between your teeth, you decide to start here. Your fingers move to your tits and round your nipples. The buds harden into small peaks beneath your shirt. You pinch and pull at them gently, and your cunt flutters in response to the teasing. You shift your hips up before shimmying your shorts off and letting them drop to the ground beside your chair.

You reposition yourself next to sit properly in the chair. Your heels come to rest on the plush cushion as you spread your legs and expose your damp panties to him. Not that he bothered to look.

Now your fingers moved down there. They pet your most sensitive area over the thin, wet cloth. Your breath hitches as your fingertips brush over your clit. You press down a little harder and make a soft breathy whine. His eyes flit in your direction, but they don’t linger. Take what you can get, you guess.

You slide your digits back down and massage your dripping entrance. The fabric becomes more wet as you rub it on your slick folds. Your middle and ring finger move in tandem to stoke the flames down there and to ensure the fabric is completely soaked. Once that mission is accomplished, you lift your hips for the second time to remove this garment. Only you don’t drop it to the floor. This time you toss them in his direction, landing them on his desk, lace half covering one of his wrists, half covering a section of his keyboard.

The sound of typing halts, putting the room into silence, spare the raindrops splatting against the window. His eyes remain stern and not on you. Without even looking down, he wads the panties up and shoves them in his pocket. The sound of typing resumes.

“Daddy,” you huff, “I got ‘em all wet just for you.”

He still doesn’t acknowledge you. You let out a growl of sorts and narrow your eyes at him. Your fingers slip through your arousal coating your center. You pay more attention to your clit now that it’s exposed.

“I just missed you so much today. I couldn’t help it,” you reason.

You whimper and squirm in your chair as you start rubbing faster. Your eyes are still locked on him, watching for the slightest crack in his resolve. So far there are none. You continue toying with yourself.

“I was thinking of you the whole time,” you whimper, “That should count for something. I was imagining your hands and your eyes looking down at me. I was pretending I could hear your voice.”

He remains unaffected. Your head tilts back against the plush cushioning as your hips rock in place. You mewl softly which soon turns into a long, drawn-out whine. Finally, he shifts in his seat a little, and you know right away it’s cause he’s starting to get hard.

“I just love you so much, daddy. Can’t control myself when you’re not around,” you say, further chipping away at the little dent in his stoic facade.

Your moans increase in volume as does the slippery sounds coming from your fingers moving through your slick. That feeling from this afternoon is starting to come back. Pleasure builds in your abdomen, one piece stacking on top of the other. You’re shaking more, voice getting less even with each little cry of joy. He finally turns to look at you when you start doing that thing you do when you’re about to cum, the ultra-specific puff of your chest that rolls through your abdomen to your hips. His eyes capture yours, unamused with your antics.

“If you cum right now, a spanking is the only kind of attention you’ll be getting until you learn some self-control,” he tells you.

In an instant, your fingers sputter to a stop. Your mind bounces back and forth on what to do like a metronome. But as always, your craving for Leon’s approval wins out over every other option. You remove your hand from between your legs and even sit up, closing your thighs. Maybe now, he’ll see you’re being good and cut you some slack.

Yeah, right.

He goes back to his computer. Again. You’re about to lose your mind or explode, you aren’t sure which will come first. Standing from the chair, you start walking to his desk. He still didn’t look at you! How rude, you’d think that the touching yourself rule was his favorite or something even though you knew it wasn’t. That title belonged to the rule that let him pick your outfit whenever the two of you went out.

A few paces in his direction, and you’re back right where you started. Arms looped over his shoulders, nuzzling your face against his cheek, and kissing the side of his head. “I said I’m sorry daddy,” you say softly, “I’m really really really really sorry. I know I was a bad girl, but only for that.”

He grunts and scoots closer to his desk, away from your embrace. A noise of exasperation leaves you, and without thinking, you roll the chair back a couple inches and embrace him again, only tighter. A grin rises on your face when you see the bulge that had formed in his lap.

“Pretty please? I’ll take whatever punishment. I don’t want daddy to be mad at me anymore,” you plead and give him some more pecks on the cheek. You knew you probably looked ridiculous, pantless and visibly horny, but that wasn’t a true concern at this moment in time.

“Go to bed,” he states simply, “I’ll deal with you later.”

That wasn’t good enough. You wanted him now.

“Daddy,” you whine, stretching out the last syllable. You lower yourself to your knees and slink down in front of his chair. “C’mon, I said it like a million billion trillion times. Can’t we just kiss and make up?”

He stares down at you, not impressed with your show of submission. He was playing harder than usual. He knew that wouldn’t deter you though. You squish your cheek against his thighs as your hands creep up his legs.

“Do I have to make a special apology?” you ask, looking up at him with puppy eyes.

He pushes your hands away as they reach his thighs. “Quit it,” he growls, “Let me finish my work and maybe we can work something out.”

But you don’t quit it. You move yourself closer to one of his legs, preparing to put on a little show for him if need be. Your eyes don’t quit and neither does the pleading expression on your mouth.

“But I need my daddy now,” you huff, “I-”

And that’s it. You’re cut off by Leon reaching down and yanking you into his lap.

“Such a fuckin’ brat,” he grunts, “Ready to hump my leg like a bitch in heat cause I don’t give you attention for a couple hours.”

You squirm a bit as his hands rub up and down your sides and squeeze your hips. He stills you with a firm slap to your ass. Both of your eyes gaze into the others, the small spheres swirling with arousal, annoyance, and adoration.

“I just missed you. I would’ve left you alone if you weren’t so mean to me,” you point out.

“Who says I have to be nice to you? You don’t get to decide when you wanna listen based on that,” he says and pulls you to his chest. You lean in against the muscular expanse while his hand snakes between the two of you to get at his button and zipper. “Your job is being a good girl. Not just when you feel like it. Not only when daddy’s giving you kisses and calling you pretty. The only time you stop is when I say, and that didn’t happen today did it? Am I imagining things again?”

“No,” you agree reluctantly, “But I-”

“Cut your yapping out. I’ve heard enough. Give me some quiet or I’ll put those panties to good use,” he threatens.

As your lips fall shut, you hear the tug of his zipper and feel him shift as he takes himself out. Now you’re really quiet, more from anticipation than obedience.

“Now I’m gonna let you sit on my cock, but that’s it. No squirming, no ‘getting comfy,’ no whining, no ‘but daddy.’ You act up too much, and I’m truly sending your ass to bed for the night.”

You look up at him and nod, not even speaking because you didn’t want to cut your chances at dick off before they started.

“Good,” he says.

One of his hands helps elevate you so that he can position his length underneath you. The tip slips through your folds, already soaked from your prior escapades. He doesn’t tease too much, wasn’t interested in hearing you beg right now. He’d heard enough of that for tonight. He pushes you down onto it. His mouth twitches, and he sucks in a deep breath as he feels the warmth of your walls engulf his cock.

You slide all the way down with ease. Looking back at his face again, you feel the insatiable urge to give him a little kiss. If you did that though, would that be one of the things you aren’t supposed to be doing?

“Daddy… can I have a little kiss first?” you ask.

He merely shoots you a look that tells you don’t push it.

With a final look of defeat, you nestle yourself against his chest, head on his shoulder so you can look up at his face. He was so focused. If you didn’t know you were here, you never would suspect he’d be up to this level of multitasking.

You let out a sigh. It was nice being full, but you still yearned for more. You were really trying to be good though, so there wasn’t much for you to do. Minutes tick by as you try in earnest to think of a potential solution. To make matters worse, at a certain point, after you’d been on his dick for a while, his hand starts roaming your back. A soothing touch that made your walls flutter around him. He knew it would too, you could tell from that little smirk on his face.

Trying to focus on the positives, you mentally study every feature of his cock that you can feel. It’s so deep, he’s resting right against the spot that could drive you wild when properly battered. It pulsed rhythmically, twitching slightly when your muscles would contract or release around his shaft.

You’re actually doing better than expected, letting your mind wander. But then, he’s the one to move a bit under the guise of necessary readjustment. The whimper that falls from your lips is inevitable. He shushes you, and you mutter an apology, but that simple movement was enough to reignite the fire in your belly.

You bite your lip, the neediness in your eyes intensifying. “Daddy?” you whisper, testing the waters.

Nothing.

So he had gone back to this? Not if you could help it. You don’t bother speaking again. Instead, you move the tiniest bit, rolling your hips as you act like you’re shifting to alleviate a cramp. To your shock, he doesn’t say anything, just shifts his hips a bit in return.

You glance up hopefully. Maybe he was going to ease up, but he just didn’t want to verbally admit it. You move a little more, but this time, you’re a bit too zealous in your attempt. His hands grab your hips and dig into your flesh, keeping you in place.

You’re so pent up and frustrated. Your forehead thuds back onto his shoulder. “Ple-”

“What did I say?” he asks.

“But da-”

“What did I say?” he asks again and tightens his grip.

“I just wanna cum,” you whimper, “It hurts, been achy all day.”

“Oh it hurts, does it?” he mocks. He jerks your hips to give you some fleeting friction while maintaining his control. “What is it about today that’s making it so hard for you to listen?”

“I-” you start to defend yourself out of instinct but can’t actually come up with anything. “I don’t know.”

“That’s right you don’t. So quit acting like you do. You think with that slutty little pussy, and then act like you don’t need daddy to make the decisions. It’s a little disappointing, babydoll,” he scolds.

Your eyes flicker with every stage of grief as he says this. That’s literally the worst thing he could say. He could call you any name in the book and you’d brush it off with an eyeroll or a “hmph.” But disappointing? That was evil. That word could worm its way into your heart and weigh on you for days.

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly in a desperate attempt to remedy, “I just… I’m so pent up. Can’t think with my head when my pussy keeps distracting me.”

“Oh, poor baby,” he mocks with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

“That’s why I have to cum,” you plead, “I need it. It’s not even the same when I do it. I should’ve just waited. I’m sorry.”

“You need it?” he repeats, “So fuckin’ spoiled. I give you some dick even when you don’t deserve it, and it’s still not enough. I gotta train some gratitude into you next.”

“You’re the one who spoils me,” you pout.

“Oh, so it’s all my fault? So you’re saying I shouldn’t be so easy on you, huh?” he challenges.

You shake your head as fast as humanly possible, now set on backtracking your fuck up. But it was too late. “No, I was just sayi-” you start before he cuts you off yet again.

“And just when I was about to start fucking you too? That’s a damn shame,” he says.

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head more. This had gone from a slight improvement to a downward spiral.

“I mean, why would I bother now? All you care about is getting to cum. Don’t care about all the work daddy puts in to make you feel good the entire time,” he taunts, “If that’s the case, then go ahead. Cum. Take what you want, but don’t you dare move those hips.”

Your look of anguish evolves into that of confusion. You don’t really want to question him right now, but you’re unsure of how you’re supposed to follow that command. “I can’t…” you say softly.

“Why not?” he asks.

“Not enough,” you answer.

“Then make it enough,” he growls, “You were having so much fun today with those fingers. They don’t work anymore?”

Oh. Your face feels hot as the realization dawns on you. You shyly bring your hand to your center and awkwardly fumble with your clit. You look at him, silently begging to ride him.

“You can do better than that,” he responds, “You were putting on such a show earlier, so don’t act like you need my help all the sudden.”

Shamefully, your fingers pick up some speed. You whimper as the pads of your digits rub over a sensitive spot. The whole time he’s still inside you. It felt kind of weird, but still good. You weren’t going to complain. Your upper body twitches a bit, but he holds you straight up, making sure you're looking at him while you work.

“That’s it. How’s it feeling, baby? Is it as good as when daddy does it?” he taunts.

“No…” you whimper, “It’s ok.”

“Aw, well, it’s gonna have to be good enough for now because it’s the only way you’re cumming.”

You groan and whine at the statement. It was the truth, but that didn’t mean you wanted to hear it. You start circling faster and flicking your hand with more urgency. Your head falls back at the sensations as a breathy moan floats from your lips. He squeezes your hips again as you tighten around his cock from the euphoria you brought yourself.

“Look at that. Think you’re gonna be able to cum all by yourself?” he teases.

You nod. Your hips rock involuntarily as the pleasure ramps up, but his grip keeps you stationary. Little gasps like the ones from earlier when you were in the chair escape you. Your fingers move almost like they’re automated.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Please can I finish?” you whimper, “Wanna cum so bad, daddy, please?”

“I already gave you permission, baby. Guess you really wanna show me how good you actually are,” he chuckles.

You can’t even say anything back before the switch flips inside you and release tears through you. Your back stiffens up and a strangled rope of moans come out of you. Your hips jerk harder than before, giving you brief brushes with the head of his cock. He sighs contentedly as you flutter around his cock and provide him with a muted sense of bliss.

You’re still riding it out when his hands are no longer just holding you, but rather, beginning to bounce you. You feel it in your cunt before your brain even catches up with the general motion of your body. It’s because you’re still so sensitive. The tingly stab pulling a quiet shriek from you.

“Daddy, gimme a break,” you whine.

“What? Daddy doesn’t deserve to finish too? Is that what you think? You just get to have your fun, and leave me to deal with it. That’s not how it works, princess,” he says.

“I’m not- I didn’t… I just can’t… it’s too much,” you struggle to get out between the whimpers coming from you. He keeps bouncing you, groaning as that hushed ecstasy blossoms into an encompassing euphoria. The noises of him sliding in and out are nearly louder than all the whining and moaning you’re doing.

“You can take it,” he grunts, “I’ll say when you’ve had enough.”

You cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain as his hips start to meet your hips guided by his hands. A deep groan rumbles in his chest as your cunt’s constant contracting massages his length. After a while, it feels like you’re almost numb down there. The fire still rages in your belly, but your actual pussy has been beaten into submission by your boyfriend’s cock. He watches your face as he moves you, relishing the way your eyes are getting glossy with a cocktail of tears, both of overstimulation and relief.

“So pretty for me, sweetheart. Gonna be even prettier when you cum again all over my dick and milk me dry,” he grunts.

“Uh huh,” you moan without thinking, head wildly falling back and forth in what’s supposed to be a nod.

Soon enough, his chest and belly are tightening up. He knows the end is near and pistons into your cunt extra hard for the finale. You wail and grip his biceps for support as you explode. You didn’t ask to cum this time, but being so close to his own release, he couldn’t really find it to care.

He keeps going through your orgasm, practically making you sob in pleasure. You feel impossibly tight, warm, and wet. And when he sees how your precious face is getting tight too, scrunching up as you reach the peak of the peak, he can’t hold it off.

His fingers dig into your hips so hard that you feel like the future bruises are already there. Your eyes are rolled back in advance as he fires his cum deep inside you. A goofy smile graces his features as he pumps it in, enjoying the waves of pleasure that wash over him throughout. And the whole time you’re pulsing away through your own release. 

You look even dumber than he does, silly smile not just on your lips, but visible in your eyes too. You’re whimpering, extra whiny and a higher pitch. He rubs your skin to remind you he’s right there. He can see your head coming back to reality as the whirlpool of ecstasy subsides.

“Oh that’s it, there’s my good girl,” he coos as you finally reach the end of the high. His hand rubs your back in long, even strokes. “So proud of you, sunshine.”

A dreamy, self-satisfied grin comes across your face. His words were the best drugs while you were in this state, and the tone of his voice only made them that much more addictive.

“Such a good girl,” he repeats, “Now how ‘bout you give daddy a kiss.”

Eagerly you boost yourself towards his lips to connect in a hazy smooch. You’re a bit sloppy with it, but he expected that and found it cute. Of course you were dizzy. He just fucked you stupid. Once you pull away, he strokes your hair and smiles at your blissed out face.

“Aw, cutie. Looks like it’s time for you to head to bed,” he says as his fingers move to rub your cheek.

“You too. I wanna cuddle,” you say, locking your arms around him.

“Mhm, I’ll be right behind you. I gotta finish up the last of this. Now that I don’t have you distracting me, it should only take about fifteen minutes,” he teases.

“That’s like a million years, and I already had to wait all day,” you sigh dramatically.

“Then I’m sure you can handle a few more minutes,” he says and rubs his nose against yours, “Don’t start getting mouthy with me, little love. I still have those panties I can easily turn into a gag.”

With a playful glare, you get up on wobbly legs to make your exit, dizzy smile still plastered on your face. You start to stumble to the door when he calls out to you.

“Wow princess, not even going to say good night to daddy? I expected better from my baby,” he chides teasingly.

You roll your eyes while smiling and return to him to smack one final big kiss on his lips. “Night daddy,” you say with a small giggle.

He smirks at your clear happiness. As you turn to leave, he swats your ass. “I’ll be right there. Bet you’ll already be passed out by the time I get there,” he says as his fingers start working the keyboard again.

“I’ll be dreaming of you though,” you tease before going out the doors and down the hall to your bed.