#practicing..shoes....platforms.....

[uncanny-tranny]

Man, part of the reason I never let myself be more gender nonconforming is because I was scared of being Noticed and Talked To about my deviance. Honestly, though, I've been making myself learn that making it a big deal would only call more attention to myself

I totally get the fear, but I don't think it's fair of me to prevent myself from being authentic, and I don't want others to feel how I do. If you've been wanting to expand on your gender nonconformity, please do, it's really, really powerful.

[tinythebunni]

🌸🫧🍉

rafey with bimbo!reader and he jus can’t take his eyes off of her! he’s so obsessed with you in da most attractive way! he’s always looking for you in a crowd and if you’re not around him his mood immediately sours!

thinking about arriving late to a party u we’re supposed to go to with him and wearing dat pretty pink dress he loves with your white platform pumps! you know how much he loves it when you wear those shoes because you are almost da same height!

he’s already hard from da kiss you gave him before he left but now? he’s practically leaking in his jeans. he grabs you and takes you to da nearest bedroom before you can even say hai to your friends :(

but you don’t have time to be sad, he already has you face down ass up in da sheets, tongue licking at da wet spot on your panties!

“nngh rafe please! stop teasing me” your whining and begging him to do something but he wants to take his time with you tonight.

“sorry baby, fuck you jus look so pretty. needa get in you now”

you roll over to give him a kiss and try 2 unbuckle his pants but he pushes you back down onto da bed with a dark look in his eyes. “princess you know i love you so much, right?”

you answer with a nod and a tilt of your head, confused why he would ask dat! “good because you’re gonna think i hate you in a few minutes”

and you don’t leave da room until he’s cumming clear liquid and you black out on his cock 😋

[pucksandpower]

So Good to Her

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: the public reacts to the TikTok challenge you and Charles inadvertently participated in

Read So Good to Me (about the TikTok challenge) here

The TikTok that the British influencer posted of his encounter with you and your incredibly generous boyfriend quickly goes viral, racking up millions of views, likes, and comments within mere hours.

It spreads like wildfire across social media platforms, with people sharing it on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook — even LinkedIn of all places. Everyone marvels at this mystery woman with the boyfriend of all boyfriends who casually sent her €10,000 just to buy a pair of shoes.

In a cozy London flat, a group of university students and diehard Charles fans gather around a laptop, eyes wide as they watch the now-viral video for the umpteenth time.

“I can’t believe Charles has a secret girlfriend!” Megan, a petite blonde wearing a red Ferrari cap, exclaims. “How did we not know about this? We follow his every move!”

Her best friend Ethan nods in agreement, his brow furrowed. “Seriously, who is this girl? She’s drop dead gorgeous and apparently Charles is just casually sending her 10 grand for shopping sprees?”

“Okay but like, goals though,” Lexi chimes in dreamily, clutching a Charles Leclerc poster to her chest. “Imagine having a boyfriend who’s not only mega hot and talented but also spoils you rotten. She’s living the dream.”

Ethan scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Oh come on, he can’t just throw money around like that. I bet this whole thing was staged for clout.”

Megan shoots him a withering glare. “Don’t be ridiculous. What would be the point? Charles is already one of the most popular drivers on the grid, he doesn’t need to pull PR stunts for attention.”

“Plus did you see the way he talked to her on the phone?” Lexi points out, rewinding the video. “That was not acting, that was real love and affection in his voice. I’m so soft for them already, ugh.”

The trio falls silent as they watch the clip again, zeroing in on every little detail and facial expression from both Charles’ mystery girlfriend and the clearly shocked TikToker.

Ethan chuckles and shakes his head. “I still can’t get over her reaction though. Just a guy who loves driving fast cars — I mean, the cheek! She really knows how to keep a secret, gotta give her that.”

“An icon, honestly,” Megan declares. “The fact that she told him to donate the money to an animal shelter too ... okay, I can’t even be mad. She seems like a sweet person.”

Lexi sighs happily, starry-eyed. “They’re literally a power couple. The sheer confidence and BDE of it all. I’m so jealous but also like, rooting for them? We have to find out who this girl is!”

As if on cue, Megan’s phone pings with a Twitter notification. Her eyes widen as she swipes to view it. “Guys. GUYS. The TikToker just confirmed her first name is Y/N and posted another video with a few more details about her!”

“Well don’t just sit there, play it!” Ethan demands, practically launching himself across the couch to peer over Megan’s shoulder at her phone screen. Lexi scrambles to join them, bouncing with anticipation.

In the new clip, the TikToker is grinning excitedly at the camera, an extra bounce in his step as he walks along the same Monaco street where he first approached you.

“Right, so I’m sure by now you’ve all seen my video with Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend go absolutely mental viral,” he begins, running a hand through his artfully tousled hair. “Which, can I just say — thank you so much for the insane support and love, you lot are the best fans ever.”

“Get to the point,” Ethan mutters under his breath, earning a sharp “Shh!” from both girls.

“Anyway,” the TikToker continues. “After she left and I finally picked my jaw up off the floor, I did some digging. I headed to that little boutique she mentioned in the call with Charles, just to see if she actually went in and bought anything. Thought maybe if I asked the staff, they might be able to give me some more info, you know?”

Megan, Ethan, and Lexi all subconsciously lean closer to the small phone screen, hanging on to his every word.

“So get this — not only did she buy the shoes, she apparently also went next door and purchased, and I quote, a frankly alarming amount of lingerie. The cashier said she dropped over 5 grand like it was nothing!”

Lexi lets out a scandalized gasp as Ethan chokes on his sip of Red Bull. Megan just shakes her head in wonderment. “The actual legend,” she murmurs reverently.

The TikToker laughs and waggles his eyebrows suggestively at the camera. “I don’t know about you lot, but I’m definitely sensing some spicy thank you for the shopping money activities were planned for a certain Ferrari driver, if you know what I mean. Get in there, Charles!”

“Gross, I so did not need that visual,” Ethan grumbles, but there’s a slight smirk playing on his lips all the same.

“Oh shut up, as if you wouldn’t do the exact same if you were dating Charles,” Lexi retorts with a playful shove to his shoulder.

“ANYWAY,” the TikToker presses on, “I did manage to squeeze a few more details out of the lovely shop girl. Apparently Charles’ girlfriend is named Y/N, no last name given for privacy reasons. But she’s a regular customer and, I quote, an absolute sweetheart who only ever has glowing things to say about her man. So there you have it, folks — Y/N and Charles are the real deal and we’re all just peasants watching a fairytale unfold.”

Megan sighs dreamily as the video ends. “Y/N and Charles,” she repeats to herself, already typing the names into her social media search bars. “God, even their names sound good together. I have to find out everything about her.”

“Dibs on making their ship name hashtag go viral,” Lexi calls out, already furiously typing away on her own phone.

Ethan snorts and rolls his eyes affectionately at his friends, but there’s no denying the small, reluctantly impressed smile tugging at the corners of his mouth too. “I give it two days before they’re papped together on some glamorous date night now that the secret’s out. Hope she’s ready for the attention dating an F1 star brings.”

“With that level of confidence and the way Charles clearly adores her? I think our girl Y/N will handle the spotlight just fine,” Megan says confidently.

Lexi nods in firm agreement. “Yep, a true queen. Charles better lock that down and wife her up real quick before one of us tries to snatch her for ourselves!”

***

In a cozy apartment not far from the very street where you had your memorable encounter with the TikToker, three young women huddle around a laptop screen, eyes wide and jaws slack as they watch the now viral video for the umpteenth time.

“I can’t believe this,” mutters Isabelle, a pretty brunette with an impressively encyclopedic knowledge of Formula 1 stats. “Charles has a girlfriend? Since when?”

“And he just sent her €10,000 like it was nothing!” Exclaims Maia, nervously twirling a strand of her platinum blonde hair. “I mean, I know he’s loaded but holy shit, the way he spoils her ...”

The third girl, Claire, bites her lip, a pensive look on her delicate features. “Did you hear what she said at the end though? Just a guy who loves driving fast cars. She was obviously talking about Charles. But the way she said it, all mysterious and like it was some inside joke ... I don’t know, it just rubs me the wrong way.”

Isabelle scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Please, she was totally gloating. Didn’t even have the decency to act a little humble about the fact that THE Charles Leclerc is apparently head over heels for her.”

“Exactly!” Maia chimes in, nodding vigorously. “Like okay, congrats, you bagged a hot, rich, famous race car driver. No need to rub it in the rest of our faces.”

Claire wrinkles her nose. “I just don’t get the vibe that she actually cares about him, you know? I mean, who asks their boyfriend to send them money in the middle of the day for some stupid shoes? While he’s working? She seems like such a gold digger.”

“Ugh, you’re so right,” Isabelle agrees, her lips curling in distaste. “Poor Charles is probably blind to it because he’s so gone for her. He didn’t even hesitate to transfer that money!”

Maia sighs dramatically and falls back on the bed. “God, it’s so unfair. Why can’t I find a man who’s that generous and totally obsessed with me? I’d treat him so much better than she does, you can already tell.”

Claire hums and taps her chin thoughtfully. “You know what, I think this smells fishy. How do we even know she’s actually Charles’ girlfriend? For all we know, she could have paid some guy who sounds like him to play along for a TikTok clout.”

Isabelle’s eyes narrow as she considers this possibility. “That’s true ... I haven’t come across any photos of them together or anything. Why has no one ever seen her before if they’re supposedly so in love?”

“Exactly!” Claire exclaims, growing more animated. “I’ve been a Charles fan for years and I’ve never seen or heard anything about a girlfriend. If they’re really dating, there’s no way it wouldn’t have come out before now.”

Maia sits up, suddenly energized by this new conspiracy theory. “Oh my god, you’re right! She’s probably just some wannabe influencer trying to get famous by pretending to be with Charles. That’s so pathetic.”

Isabelle nods slowly, a determined glint in her eye. “You know what? We should do some digging. Try to find out who this girl really is and expose her for the fraud she clearly is. Charles and the world deserve to know the truth.”

“Yesss, I’m so down for an investigation!” Maia says gleefully. “Imagine if we’re the ones who reveal that this whole thing is fake. We’d be doing Charles a huge favor.”

Claire is already pulling up Instagram and Twitter on her phone. “Let’s start by going through the comments on that TikTok and seeing if anyone has identified her or posted any receipts. There have to be some clues somewhere.”

The girls spend the next few hours poring over social media, searching for any scrap of information they can find about the mystery woman who has supposedly captured Charles Leclerc’s heart. They work themselves into a frenzy, convincing each other more and more that you can’t possibly be Charles’ real girlfriend. In their minds, you’re clearly just an opportunistic clout chaser looking for your 15 minutes of fame.

“God, I hope Charles sees through her act soon,” Isabelle says for the hundredth time, shaking her head. “He’s too good for some two-bit gold digger who’s just using him.”

“We’ll make sure he finds out who she really is,” Claire assures her firmly. “And then he’ll have no choice but to dump her lying ass.”

Maia sighs wistfully, hugging a throw pillow to her chest. “Do you think once he’s single again, I might actually have a chance? Like, if I run into him at a race one day and strike up a conversation, maybe he’ll realize I’m the girl he’s meant to be with ...”

“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Claire says with a laugh. “First step is taking down this fraud of a girlfriend. Then we can daydream about being Mrs. Leclerc.”

The girls giggle and go back to their social media sleuthing with renewed determination. They’ve decided you’re public enemy number one and they won’t rest until they’ve exposed you for the fake, money-hungry, clout-chasing liar they’re certain you must be. In their eyes, they’re crusaders for truth, fighting to save their beloved Charles from your clutches.

What they don’t realize, of course, is just how very real and very deep Charles’ feelings for you actually are ... and that you’re not going anywhere anytime soon, Internet conspiracy theories be damned.

***

In a dimly lit basement somewhere in Italy, a group of die-hard Charles Leclerc fans huddle around a computer screen, their jaws dropping as they watch the video for the umpteenth time.

“Guys, are you seeing this shit?” Enzo, the self-appointed leader of the group, asks incredulously. “Who the hell is this girl and how did she bag Charles freakin’ Leclerc?”

“Dude, we don’t even know for sure that it’s actually Charles,” Giovanni points out skeptically. “She never said his name. It could be some other rich dude with a fast car.”

Enzo scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Oh come on, who else could it be? €10,000 like it’s nothing, is it possible that Leclerc has a secret girlfriend we don’t know about all this time? A guy who likes driving fast cars? It’s obviously Charles! Our boy is LOADED and that’s exactly how he’d spoil his girl.”

Luca nods in agreement, a dreamy expression on his face. “God, can you imagine being with Charles though? Having him call you all those cute pet names and just showering you with love and gifts? I’d fucking die.”

“Yeah, she has to be the luckiest woman on the planet,” Enzo sighs wistfully. “I mean, I’m straight, but even I’d let Charles ruin me, you know what I’m saying?”

The other guys murmur and nod in emphatic agreement, all of them momentarily lost in a fantasy of being Charles Leclerc’s pampered significant other.

“Okay but like, how is this even fair?” Giovanni gripes, breaking the spell. “The rest of us mere mortals are out here busting our asses on Tinder and Hinge, praying a decent girl will swipe right, and Charles just gets to date a literal goddess who is probably a model?”

“Life isn’t fair, Gio,” Enzo says solemnly. “Charles is on a completely different level. He could have any woman he wants and they’d all say yes before he even finished asking. The rules don’t apply to a guy like that.”

Luca suddenly sits up straight, his eyes widening with realization. “Holy shit, guys. Do you know what this means? If Charles is taken, that’s one less F1 driver on the market for all those grid girl groupies to throw themselves at! Maybe the rest of us actually have a chance now!”

Giovanni snorts derisively. “Yeah, you wish. Those chicks are still gonna be busy trying to get with Sainz or Verstappen or Norris. They’re not gonna settle for some nobody Ferrari fan. Let’s be real.”

“Wow, way to kill the vibe, Debbie Downer,” Luca mutters. He turns back to the computer and hits replay on the video, watching enviously as the TikToker clearly shows the €10,000 bank transfer on your phone. “Seriously though, how is this chick not freaking the fuck out? If Charles Leclerc randomly sent me 10 grand I’d be screaming and probably pass out.”

“She’s probably used to it,” Enzo says with a shrug. “I bet this is like, a regular Tuesday for her. Just casually strolling around Monaco, stopping into designer stores whenever she feels like it, Charles’ black credit card weighing down her Hermès purse. The bougiest of WAG lives.”

“God, what I wouldn’t give to trade places with her for just one day,” Giovanni says longingly. “Can you imagine getting to wake up next to Charles every morning? Having him make you breakfast and give you forehead kisses and tell you how much he loves you in that sexy accent?”

“Okay, now you’re just torturing yourself, bro,” Luca laughs. “You’ll be lucky if you can get a Tinder match to agree to split the bill at McDonalds.”

“Why you gotta bring me back to my sad reality like that?” Giovanni groans, chucking a throw pillow at Luca’s head. “Let me live vicariously through Charles’ bougie mystery girlfriend for a little while longer, damn.”

Enzo sighs and leans back in his chair, hands behind his head. “You know what the craziest part of all this is? The fact that Charles managed to keep a whole ass girlfriend hidden from the world. Like, the media has been speculating about his love life forever and no one had a clue he was actually in a serious relationship. That man moves in silence like a ninja.”

“Yeah, and did you see how he just casually threw out that he loves her?” Luca gushes. “He was all I love spoiling you, you deserve the world. My dude is head over heels for this girl and I am LIVING for it.”

“Ugh, why can’t I find a man like that?” Giovanni whines dramatically. “All I want is a guy who will write me cute Instagram captions in three languages and buy out the Gucci store for me but I guess that’s too much to ask!”

“Maybe if you stanned Charles harder, the universe would reward you,” Enzo snarks. “Start leaving thirsty comments on his shirtless pics, see if that manifests your dream F1 boyfriend.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t already do that,” Giovanni retorts with a smirk. “How else do you think Oscar Piastri ended up in my DMs last night?”

“Wait, WHAT?” Luca and Enzo exclaim in unison, whipping their heads around to gape at their friend.

Giovanni bursts out laughing at their shocked faces. “I’m just kidding, jeez! You think I’d be sitting here listening to you losers if Oscar freaking Piastri actually messaged me? Puh-lease.”

“Man, don’t even joke about that,” Enzo grumbles, clutching at his heart. “You really had me going there for a sec.”

Luca huffs and slouches down in his seat. “Can we get back to being jealous of Charles’ sugar baby girlfriend now? I was enjoying that more than whatever the hell this conversation turned into.”

“She’s not his sugar baby!” Enzo argues. “They’re clearly in love! Did we watch the same video? The way he talked to her was mad cute. That’s his GIRL girl.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Luca concedes, holding his hands up in apology. “Charles might spoil her but he obviously adores her for more than just her looks. That’s the real relationship goals right there.”

“Imagine being so secure in your love that you can just ball out on your partner like that and know it’s only going to make them love you more,” Giovanni muses. “Cannot relate.”

Enzo nods sagely. “Charles is just built different, man. In more ways than one.”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” Luca agrees. “So, are we watching this video another 50 times or are we moving on to the Grill the Grid compilation I found of all of Charles’ most adorably flustered moments?”

Enzo grins maniacally and reaches for the mouse. “Oh, you know we’re watching the hell out of this absolute gift again. And then we’re gonna spend the next three hours cyberstalking Charles and seeing if we can find any other crumbs about who this legendary mystery woman is. For research purposes.”

“This is the most productive thing we’ve done in months and I’m not even ashamed,” Giovanni declares, cracking his knuckles in preparation for the intense social media deep dive they’re about to undertake.

***

In a crowded sports bar in Dublin, a group of die-hard Ferrari fans gather to watch the latest race. But today, there’s another bit of F1-related content that has their attention. They huddle around a phone, repeatedly watching the now-infamous TikTok video.

“Can you believe it? €10,000 just like that!” Exclaims James, a tall, lanky guy with a mop of curly hair. “I mean, I knew Charles was loaded but damn ...”

“Forget the money, did you see his girlfriend?” Tom, a stocky redhead, chimes in. “Absolutely stunning. Like, how does a race car driver land a girl like that?”

Mark, a quieter guy with glasses, rolls his eyes. “Uh, maybe because he’s Charles freaking Leclerc? The man’s a beast on the track and has the face of a Greek god. Girls probably throw themselves at him left and right.”

The guys all mutter in begrudging agreement, a note of envy coloring their voices. On screen, the video replays yet again, showing you confidently calling up your boyfriend and securing the small fortune without batting an eye.

“God, what I wouldn’t give to have a woman look at me the way she probably looks at Leclerc,” Tom sighs wistfully.

“In your dreams, mate,” James scoffs. “Girls like that are way out of our league. We can’t compete with a Ferrari paycheck and Monaco real estate.”

“Still doesn’t seem fair though,” grumbles Mark. “The dude’s already got it all — talent, fame, money. Leave some for the rest of us!”

On screen, the video reaches the part where you coolly inform the gobsmacked TikToker that you don’t need his measly €2,000 and he should donate it to an animal shelter instead. The guys let out low whistles, clearly impressed by your classy move.

“See, that right there, that’s what separates the Monegasque princess types from regular girls,” says James with an air of authority. “We would’ve taken the cash in a heartbeat.”

“Speak for yourself, I’m a man of principle,” Tom jokes, puffing out his chest exaggeratedly. The others snort and shove him playfully.

As the video ends, the guys sit back, each lost in their own wistful imaginings of what it must be like to be Charles Leclerc. To have the money, success, and effortless charm to win over a girl like you.

Mark is the first to break the contemplative silence. “Maybe we’re looking at this all wrong,” he muses thoughtfully. “I mean yeah, Charles is a lucky bastard, no doubt. But that girl, she seems like a real catch too. Like the kind of person who’d keep you humble and grounded, even when you’re a superstar athlete with the world at your feet.”

The others consider this, nodding slowly. “Fair point,” concedes Tom. “Behind every great man and all that jazz. Leclerc may have his millions but he still needs someone to call him out on his BS from time to time.”

“Exactly,” agrees Mark. “And did you hear the way he spoke to her on the phone? The dude’s completely smitten. He may have all the money and fame, but I bet she’s the real prize in his eyes.”

“Alright, alright, settle down Dr. Phil,” James interjects with a good-natured eye roll. “You gonna start writing romance novels in your spare time now? Maybe they’ll make a movie — The Tifosi Who Loved Me: A Charles Leclerc Story.”

The guys all crack up laughing at that, the tension broken. Their envy towards Leclerc’s charmed life remains, but it’s now tinged with a newfound respect and even a touch of empathy.

“Y’know, jokes aside, I do hope he realizes how lucky he is to have her and treats her right,” Mark says sincerely as their chuckles subside. “A love like that seems rare these days.”

Tom reaches over to clap Mark on the shoulder. “No worries, mate. Did you see the dopey grin on Charles’ face in those paparazzi pics of them together that came out earlier? That man is whipped with a capital W. He knows he’s got a keeper.”

“As he should,” nods James sagely. “Behind every great Ferrari champion is an even greater woman keeping his ego in check. Tale as old as time.”

On that note, the guys clink their pint glasses together, silently saluting the unnamed woman who stole the heart of Charles Leclerc and the envious admiration of Formula 1 fans worldwide. The mystery girlfriend with impeccable style and a heart of gold.

As the pre-race coverage starts up on the bar TV, the guys settle in to cheer on their favorite driver, their fleeting jealousy replaced by the camaraderie and excitement of race day. But in the back of their minds, a single wistful thought remains — what they wouldn’t give to find a love like Charles and his girl seem to share. Guess that’s just one more thing to add to the list of reasons to idolize Charles Leclerc.

***

Among the hordes of viewers obsessively replaying the clip are three best friends gathered for a girls night at a posh Parisian penthouse. Colette, the willowy blonde draped across a velvet chaise lounge, takes a sip of her champagne and shakes her head in wonder.

“God, can you imagine having a boyfriend who just casually drops 10k on you like it’s nothing? Talk about relationship goals,” she sighs dreamily.

Next to her, Nadia snorts derisively while scrolling through Instagram on her phone. “Oh please, like that’s hard to find. I bet loads of rich guys would do that for their girlfriends. It’s not that impressive.”

From her perch on a tufted ottoman, Stephanie raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Really? You think Liam would send you that kind of cash without batting an eye? Mr. I-Need-To-Check-With-My-Financial-Advisor-Before-I-Buy-A-New-Tie?”

Colette erupts into giggles at the scathing impression of Nadia’s banker boyfriend. Even Nadia cracks a reluctant smile before tossing her sleek dark hair.

“Whatever. I’m just saying, that TikTok chick’s boyfriend can’t be THAT special. I’m sure if we did the same challenge our boyfriends would come through too,” she declares with more than a hint of competitiveness in her voice.

“Oooh yes, let’s do it! Let’s recreate the video and see what happens!” Colette squeals, bouncing up and down on the chaise with excitement.

Stephanie, ever the voice of reason, looks uncertain. “I don’t know, guys ... isn’t it a bit tacky to demand money from them like that? What if they get mad?”

Nadia rolls her eyes. “Oh come on Steph, live a little! It’s just a silly experiment. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Okay, okay fine,” Stephanie relents, unable to resist her friends’ cajoling. “But I’m blaming you both if Omer breaks up with me over this!”

“Deal!” Colette grins impishly as she grabs her phone. “I’ll go first — let me call Henry and we’ll see if he’s as generous as Mystery Monaco Man.”

With a deep breath, she dials her property developer boyfriend and launches into her rehearsed plea as soon as he picks up. “Baby!” She whines. “You’ll never believe what happened. I’m out with the girls and my Louboutins broke! Like the heel just totally snapped off. I’m absolutely gutted, these were my faves. Is there any way you could send some money to my account so I can grab a new pair on the way home? Pleeeaaase, I’ll love you forever!”

There’s a heavy pause before Henry’s clipped voice comes through, tinged with annoyance. “Christ, again with the bloody shoes? What is it with you women and wasting my hard earned money on bits of leather you don’t need? Can’t you just take the broken ones to get fixed?”

Colette’s perfectly glossed pout trembles, her blue eyes shining with disappointed tears as Nadia and Stephanie look on in pity. “Never mind,” she mumbles. “Forget I asked. Chat later.” She hangs up and flings her phone down despondently.

“What an ass,” Nadia spits. “You deserve so much better.” Colette shrugs sadly but rallies as she turns to Stephanie expectantly.

“Okay Steph, your turn to give Omer a ring! Let’s hope he restores our faith in rich boyfriends everywhere.”

Stephanie grimaces but dutifully calls her Qatar-based hedge fund manager beau. In her most saccharine voice, she makes her case. “Habibi, you know that gorgeous YSL bag I showed you last week? It finally came back in stock but only for today! Could you maybe pop some cash in my account so I can treat myself? I’ve been working so hard lately and-”

“Wallahi Stephanie, how many handbags does one woman need?” Omer cuts her off irritably. “If I buy you this one, I don’t want to hear any more whining for designer things for at least 6 months, got it? I’ll send you 500 euros, that should more than cover it.”

“Oh. Right. Thanks, I guess ...” Stephanie replies glumly before ending the call. She shakes her head at her friends. “Well, it’s something at least?”

“Hardly,” Nadia scoffs. “These men, I swear. Okay, time for me to show you girls how it’s done. Watch and learn, ladies.”

With a confident smirk, she video calls Liam who answers distractedly, clearly still at the office despite the late hour. “This better be important Nadia, I’m right in the middle of-”

“Liam. Focus,” Nadia cuts him off crisply. “I need you to send €10,000 to my account right now. No questions asked.” She arches a commanding eyebrow, daring him to argue.

Liam just blinks at her for a moment before letting out an incredulous laugh. “I’m sorry, you need me to do what now? 10 grand, are you mad? For what possible reason?”

“To prove you love me,” Nadia retorts smugly. “I saw this thing on TikTok, some girl’s boyfriend sent her-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Liam interrupts. “I’m not one of your little social media playthings to manipulate for views, Nadia. My money is not a toy. I’ll buy you a thoughtful gift for your birthday next month, but I’m not in the business of flinging cash at you for no reason. Now if you’ll excuse me, some of us have real work to do. Goodnight.”

With that he abruptly ends the call, leaving Nadia staring at the blank screen, a red flush of embarrassment and anger creeping up her elegant neck. Stephanie and Colette exchange knowing looks.

“So … that went well,” Stephanie quips sarcastically.

Colette sighs morosely as she flops back onto the chaise, hugging a silk pillow. “Maybe that girl’s boyfriend really is one of a kind. God, I bet she feels like the luckiest woman alive. Can you even imagine being THAT loved and adored?”

Nadia seems to deflate, her bravado evaporating. “No,” she whispers. “I can’t. You’re right, Col. Mystery Monaco Man is clearly in a league of his own. I bet he makes her feel like an absolute queen every damn day.”

Stephanie nods thoughtfully, twirling a lock of hair. “You know what though? Good for her. She seems lovely and down-to-earth in the video. If anyone deserves that fairy tale romance, it’s a girl like that who doesn’t even realize how special it is.”

“Ugh, so true. god I’m depressed now,” Colette groans, reaching for the champagne bottle to refill her glass. “To Mystery Monaco Man — may he set the standard for rich boyfriends everywhere. And to the girl who’s lucky enough to love him — may she live happily ever after and never take a single moment for granted.”

“Hear, hear,” Nadia and Stephanie chorus, clinking their glasses against Colette’s.

As the bubbles fizz on their tongues, the wistful faraway looks in their eyes betray the same thought — what they wouldn’t give to trade places with you for just a day, to know what it feels like to be cherished so completely by a man like Charles. To them, you’re living the ultimate dream.

If only they knew the best part isn’t the extravagant gestures or lavish gifts.

It’s the little moments. The soft kisses pressed to your temple. The fingers intertwined with yours. The sleepy smiles over morning coffee. The shared laughter and inside jokes. The unwavering support and unconditional acceptance. The bone-deep feeling of safety and coming home.

That’s the real fairy tale. And no amount of money could ever buy it.

***

Back in Monaco, Lando Norris slouches comfortably in his gaming chair, eyes glued to the triple monitors in front of him. He’s meant to be reviewing telemetry data in preparation for the upcoming race weekend, but the notification chime from his phone proves far too tempting. Lando picks up the device, fully intending to only glance at it for a second before dutifully returning to his work.

But then he sees it — the TikTok that at least a dozen people have sent to him in the past hour alone. Curiosity piqued, Lando clicks on the video and watches intently, his brows steadily rising towards his hairline with each passing second.

“Wait, is that ...” he mutters to himself as the clip plays out. When your boyfriend’s voice comes through the speakers, Lando’s eyes bug out comically. “Holy shit, it is Charles! And Y/N!”

A knock on the door makes Lando jump slightly. Before he can respond, a familiar mop of tousled chestnut hair pokes into the room. “Hey mate, did you see-” Max Verstappen starts to say.

“The TikTok of Charles simping hard for Y/N? Yup, watching it right now,” Lando finishes for him, eyes still glued to his phone screen in fascination.

Max invites himself into the room fully and flops down on the couch. “Absolutely crazy, right? Who just casually sends their girlfriend 10k for a random pair of shoes?”

Lando snorts. “Certainly not you, you stingy Dutchman,” he ribs playfully. Max chucks a throw pillow at him in retaliation.

“Hey, even I splurge on my girlfriend sometimes!” Max protests. “I just bought her ... erm ...” He racks his brain trying to remember the last lavish gift he purchased unprompted.

“A six-pack of Sugar Free Red Bull last week?” Lando supplies dryly.

“... Shut up.”

The two dissolve into snickers before turning their attention back to the TikTok, which has now looped to the beginning again.

“Charles is so whipped for Y/N,” Max observes, shaking his head in amused disbelief. “He’s just asking to get taken advantage of, throwing money around like that.”

“I think it’s kinda sweet,” Lando admits with a shrug. “He just wants to make her happy. Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same if your girl asked!”

Max scoffs. “What, fall victim to a gold digger? No thanks mate.”

“Y/N’s hardly a gold digger and you know it,” Lando chides. “She works hard for her own money and buys plenty of expensive gifts for Charles too. They just like spoiling each other ‘cause they’re in luuurve.” He draws out the last word in a silly voice, making dramatic kissy faces.

“Yeah, yeah, true love and all that sappy bullshit,” Max says dismissively, though there’s no real heat behind it. “I’m just saying, no way in hell I’m sending 10k on command for a pair of fucking shoes!”

Lando hums thoughtfully. “I would.”

Max’s head whips around to stare at him incredulously. “You what.”

“If it was the right girl? Sure, I’d do it,” Lando says nonchalantly. “Maybe not for something frivolous like shoes, but if my girlfriend called me up and said she needed 10k transferred ASAP? I’d do it, no questions asked. You gotta have that level of trust.”

Clearly torn between wanting to take the piss out of his friend and feeling a reluctant sort of respect, Max just grunts noncommittally in response before turning back to rewatch the clip once more.

Debate rages online among the fans about the cute interaction. Most find the whole thing adorably romantic, cooing over what a doting and generous boyfriend Charles is. They swoon at the obvious love and care between you two, speculating excitedly in the comments about when Charles might pop the question.

Others are more cynical, rolling their eyes at Charles “simping” so hard and accusing you of only dating the Ferrari driver for his money. However, these naysayers are quickly drowned out and ratio’d by your legions of adoring supporters.

Through it all, you and Charles pay the speculation little mind, blissfully wrapped up in your fairytale romance.

Charles returns home that evening to the mouthwatering aroma of his favorite pesto pasta dish wafting from the kitchen. He grins when he spots you at the stove, swaying your hips to the sultry jazz music playing from the speaker as you stir the sauce. Quietly, he comes up behind you and slips his strong arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Mmm, smells amazing,” he murmurs appreciatively.

You turn in his embrace and loop your arms around his neck, smiling radiantly up at him. “Welcome home, Cha-Cha,” you greet him, using the silly pet name that never fails to make him chuckle and scrunch his nose adorably. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

“And what’s for dessert?” Charles asks with a playful waggle of his eyebrows.

Biting your lip coyly, you untangle yourself from his arms and saunter off towards the bedroom. “Come find out after we eat. Oh, and I picked up a little something special to express my gratitude for earlier ...” you call over your shoulder with a wink.

Charles’ megawatt grin could power all of Monaco for a year. Viral TikTok or not, the Monegasque knows he’s already the luckiest man in the world to have you as his partner through this crazy ride called life.

No amount of money could ever compare to the joy of being loved by you.

[mxstellatayte]

pretty please: chapter one.

pretty please masterlist.

chapter one warnings: lewis lowkey being a sugar daddy, (sex spoilers after this,) legal use of alcohol, consensual sex!!!, lewis is really good at dirty talking lol, lewis has a big dick haha, oral sex (m and f receiving,) multiple orgasms (f receiving,) belly bulge, praise (m and f receiving,) lewis hamilton aftercare king

chapter one word count: 5.3k (3k words of porn tho don't worry)

taglist: @pear-1206 @vivi-81 @irishmanwhore

join my taglist here!

you made me an offer i can't refuse

thursday, 23 may, 2019

you push out a shaky breath, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles in your outfit one last time before stepping out of your hotel room. today is the day you've been both dreading and looking forward to for the past two weeks- the day you interview the one and only lewis hamilton at the monaco grand prix media day.

when you'd been offered the opportunity for a one-on-one interview with one of the most iconic faces in both the fashion and motorsports world, you thought you were dreaming. turns out that the journalist who had originally been assigned to the project had a family emergency and needed time off of work, so the chance to lead the project was yours and yours alone. of course, once you realized that you were not dreaming, you accepted. despite your preparation, you're still terrified. you have ten questions at the ready in your small notebook that you've read over and attempted to memorize approximately twelve times each hour for the past three days, but the practice does nothing to soothe your anxiety.

"fuck it," you say to yourself, inspecting your makeup one last time before slipping your feet into your signature shoes- platform high top converse. once on the streets of monaco, you hail a cab to take you to the circuit, your black and purple media badge secure in your purse. your stomach is twisting with anxiety the whole way there, and when you pay the driver and step out of the cab, it only increases tenfold.

you're about to interview lewis hamilton. no big deal.

yeah.

not a big deal at all.

the next hour and a half is a whirlwind of meeting with lewis' manager to getting your questions checked over to getting a tour of the media center to seeing the recording booth where you're going to be interviewing the driver. it's a nice room, but it's separate from the rest of the media areas, so you assume it's likely not normally for recording podcasts.

"how long do i have before the interview?" you ask, turning to lewis' pr manager.

"about twenty minutes, but lewis is going to be here in ten for soundcheck. make yourself comfortable for now, can i get you anything? water, tea, coffee?"

"a cup of tea would be lovely, thank you." you smile and nod, sitting down inside the booth on the plush couch. in a feeble attempt to quell your nerves, you take your mini notebook out of your bag and go over the questions for the umpteenth time today, but the words on the page blur together as you try to squish down the stirring in your stomach.

"here's the tea for you," someone says, and you're expecting it to be the manager you'd spoken to, but when you look up, you're met with an unfairly beautiful face. oh. okay. this is happening. you're casually accepting a cup of tea from five-time world champion lewis hamilton. the man you're about to interview.

no big deal.

the interview goes by without any hiccups, and, before you know it, your hour in the booth is up, and you say your on-camera goodbyes before they stop recording. as you're about to leave, though, lewis gently touches your upper arm and asks to speak to you for a moment-

only if you don't have something to rush to, of course- and your heart leaps into your throat. had you said something wrong or hit a sensitive nerve with one of your questions?

"i want to thank you. not a lot of reporters are able to ask questions beyond the simple 'how do you plan on winning this weekend' and 'what changes are you going to make based on mistakes made at the previous race,' so i applaud you. your questions were really different from what i was expecting, and your interview style is really unique. i enjoyed talking to you." he extends his hand and you shake it firmly, your chest feeling like it might just explode with pride.

"thank you, mr. hamilton. i'm incredibly grateful for the opportunity to speak with you, and i'm looking forward to any i may have in the future." the driver beams, and you can't help but notice the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. it's annoyingly pretty.

"i won't have any of this 'mr. hamilton' nonsense. call me lewis. after talking to you for an hour, i can tell that you're very knowledgeable when it comes to both motor sports and fashion, which is really impressive. and i look forward to speaking with you in the future, too." the two of you chat for a few more minutes before he's summoned once more, and you bid your goodbyes.

a few minutes later, as you're trying to calm down your heart rate so that you can maintain some small semblance of composure before returning to the outside world, one of your long-time friends from college approaches you from behind, and, in her standard fashion, scares the shit out of you.

"boo."

you shriek, your previous efforts to stabilize your heart rate now entirely in vain. "christ, amelia! do you have to sneak up on me everywhere?"

"absolutely. i also have something to tell you something." your eyebrows furrow as she almost instantly moves on from the fact that she nearly scared you half to death mere seconds ago, but you almost fully pass away by choking on your saliva two seconds later. "you've got it really down bad for him, and you're not subtle about it. at all."

after you're done recovering from yet another near-death experience, you punch her left arm. hard. "you are so lucky i don't have a weapon right now." amelia laughs, her head thrown back and her shoulders bouncing with delight.

"awe, come on." she smiles at you, her eyes glittering in their signature way, signaling that she's about to drag you into a potentially messy and new situation. "you know that the rules state very clearly that there's a zero-tolerance policy for physical or verbal harassment."

i got it bad for you, so baby

thursday, 28 november, 2019.

it's your third time interviewing lewis in the 2019 season, and since you first spoke to him at the monaco grand prix, things have changed for both of you. following the success of your interview with him at the monaco grand prix and the article you wrote to go along with it, you'd been promoted from your previous position as fashion field journalist to the lofty title of fashion and sports researcher and journalist. as soon as lewis hears the news, he's sure to congratulate you, this time at one of the biggest spectacles in motorsports: the abu dhabi grand prix. you can't help but beam with pride when he mentions your new title, thanking him again for his time, and remembering to call him by his first name despite how strange it feels.

"i should be congratulating you on something, as well, six-time world champion," you grin, happy as your friendly banter with lewis seems to fall into place. your first time meeting him, you were so terrified of saying something wrong that you didn't let yourself really let go and show your personality. the second time, in mexico, you were able to relax a little bit more and even crack a few jokes. today, you're all smiles and even got breakfast with him before the scheduled meeting time. one anxiety you'd voiced was that the same paparazzi that you've worked with in the past don't take photos of you with the driver and sell them to the media, which would undoubtedly start a pr disaster for both of you.

"if you'd rather have breakfast in the paddock, i can have that set up," he'd offered, and, once again, who would you be to decline such a kind offer?

so here you find yourself, enjoying an expertly brewed italian iced coffee and two perfectly crumbly strawberry scones, sitting across from the reigning world champion of motorsport.

you know, standard thursdays.

"one thing i don't think i've mentioned before," lewis begins, setting down his cup of tea, "is how much i admire that you try to find the human behind the driver."

your eyebrows furrow. "i don't think i follow."

"i now realize my wording is really weird. let me fix that." you laugh, taking another bite of your scone. "you don't exclusively ask questions about driving. you dig into our hobbies and interests outside of the paddock. in my experience, the way you balance questions for both motorsports and fashion is fascinating."

"it's all part of the job. i wouldn't be where i am without interesting questions, would i?" lewis smiles, shaking his head.

"i doubt it, but you are pretty damn smart. i bet you'd find a way to make it here one way or another."

"i'm flattered."

the conversation continues easily as the two of you finish your breakfast, then, as you begin to prepare yourself to stand and leave, he stops you. "actually, there's one last thing i wanted to do before we went on camera."

your head tilts in confusion as you set your signature lipstick back in your bag, a deep red balm that you've used since you started working at vogue. it's become your trademark product, and almost everyone in the office knows exactly which one you use. "do i need to be worried, lewis?"

"no, not at all! it's this," he says, and your eyebrows rise in complete and utter shock when he pulls out a small box wrapped in white paper and a crimson bow wrapped around it all. "i wanted to get you a gift as a way of saying thank you for all the curveball questions you've thrown at me this year." your hands shake as you take the box from him, and you already know exactly which brand it is. cartier. sure, you've written pieces about their timeless looks and elegant aesthetics, and owning a piece of their jewelry has always been a dream of yours, but it's always been just that: a dream.

"lewis, i can't accept this. i- i'm honestly at a loss for words. seriously, no." you can't help but flush at how he's looking at you, those annoyingly beautiful eyes of his and the stupidly perfect crow's feet that only show up when he really smiles- when he smiles the way he is now. gods, amelia was right. you really are down bad for the driver.

"please, just open it up. if you don't like it, i'll take it back and you can choose something you prefer." he nudges the box towards you once more, and the crisp wax seal that sits on top of the paper is incredibly enticing.

"are you serious?" a part of you wants to think that this is some sick joke, that there's cameras on you and it's all going up on one of those prank channels on youtube. a much, much bigger part of you believes lewis, though. that is the part of you that takes the box between your shaking hands, carefully pops open the wax seal, nimbly unties the beautiful ribbon, and gently unfolds the pure white paper. when you finally open the box, you gasp, tears threatening to well in your eyes. "lewis..."

"do you like it?" his voice sounds anxious and hopeful, and you can't help but realize how much thought he'd put into this gift. when you'd invited him into your office to review some photos that were to go into an article in the next vogue issue a few months prior, he'd seen the vision board on your wall and asked about it. bashfully, you had explained to him that it was a silly idea you had when you graduated from uni with your friends- each of you made one, cutting and pasting photos from pinterest, magazines, newspapers, and anything you could find, assembling your dreams in a mishmash of colors and ideas. one of your dreams on the board had been to own this exact necklace- the cartier juste un clou necklace in white gold. the fourteen diamonds set in the precious metal glitter back at you, and you can't help but smile.

"i love it, lewis. thank you so much." he visibly relaxes, his shoulders loosening and the crease between his eyebrows disappearing.

"i'm glad. here, turn around. let me put it on you?" you happily oblige, lifting your hair out of the way after you stand so that he can fasten the delicate clasp over your spine.

it's safe to say that both his and your fans noticed the necklace hanging between your collarbones, sitting just below the star necklace you wear daily on top of your dark grey high-collared shirt. you try your best not to look at the comments on the videos of your interviews, but amelia had shown you one that day after the unedited interview went up online.

"are they dating or something? i can't get over how lewis looks at her."

sunday, 1 december, 2019

after the race, lewis crossing the line not only in p1, more than 16 seconds ahead of the rest of the grid, but with the fastest lap, as well, you're sure to congratulate him on your social media accounts and in person in the pit lane. "lewis!" his head turns at the sound of your voice, and he sees you moving as quickly as you can down the pit lane, neon green paddock pass hanging from your neck alongside the black and purple media pass. your signature converse and light wash jeans complete your outfit, and his heart swells with joy when he sees that you're still wearing the necklace he gave you.

"hey! i'm glad they let you down here after the race. i was a bit worried i'd have to wring a security guard's neck to get you down here."

"aw, you'd do that for little old me?"

"i'd do just about anything for the most interesting reporter in the paddock," he replies, ever so cocky and so annoyingly pretty. seriously, was he a saint or something in his past life? it feels painfully unfair that he was blessed with such perfect looks and charm. it makes your stomach twist with a flirty giddiness you haven't felt since you were a teenager. it's exciting. "are you coming to the after party?"

"i don't know if i'll be able to. i have a lot to do in the next few days and i honestly don't know if i'm going to be able to take a break on the plane back to london. i'll probably be sitting in my seat going over notes and writing up an article or answering an obscene amount of emails."

"please? just one night? i'll buy your drinks." he bats his eyes at you, and it really shouldn't make you fold as easily as it does, but here you are, sitting in his mercedes and driving to a probably very heinously overpriced club.

a girl needs to be a passenger princess every now and then, right?

when you arrive at the club, you have to force your lips to stay closed so that your jaw doesn't drop in shock and awe. paparazzi swarm you as soon as you step out of the car and lewis hands the keys to the valet, and for a moment, you're convinced this is some sort of sick and twisted fever dream as microphones are shoved in your direction and cameras flash quickly enough to make you glad you don't have photosensitive epilepsy. when lewis' hand rests on the small of your back and he smiles brightly at you, though, you're reassured that this is very much real.

"after you." you smile back at him, your own anxiety lessening just a tiny bit now that you know that he's right there by you.

pretty please, come on over and ruin my life

how did you end up here?

you'll blame it on the alcohol.

either way, lewis' lips feel amazing on yours, and you waddle slightly as he backs you up to the bed in his extravagant hotel room. "need this off," he mutters, hands searching under your shirt and gripping at your waist. your brain is a foggy mess of lust, alcohol, and a lot more lust, and as quickly as you can, you pull back from the kiss (much to lewis' dismay,) tug your shirt out of your waistband and yank it over your head, tossing it somewhere to your right. almost immediately, strong arms wrap back around your torso and you're caged in, and every single one of your senses is flooded with lewis, lewis, lewis. his skin is hot underneath where your hands lay, your right on his cheek and your left clutching the side of his neck as if letting go would result in falling off the face of the earth.

his kisses are messy, desperate, and wet. his tongue glides along your own and you moan wantonly, the noise only further spurring on his efforts. as you lay back against the bed, lewis kisses his way down your chest (when did your bra come off?), lavishing each of your breasts with his tongue and hands. one hand works over your flesh, kneading and pinching while his tongue licks over your right nipple, gently biting and sucking and smirking when you moan once again, switching to the other side. "lewis, oh my god-" you interrupt yourself with an embarrassingly loud whine, your back arching as deft fingers pop open the button on your jeans, unzip the fly, and slip into your panties.

"fuck, darling, so wet for me already," lewis groans, his head buried into your neck as he bites gently at the sensitive skin there. "i'm gonna have to get a taste before i fuck you."

"yes, oh my god, please," you whine, the mere thought of the driver between your thighs making another rush of butterflies flood your lower tummy. you almost laugh when you realize that you still have your converse on and he's struggling with the laces, so you lift yourself up off of the bed and shoo his hands away, instead expertly undoing the white laces in less than ten seconds and kicking them off your feet, leaning back onto your elbows as they hit the ground with a muffled thump. "you are way too overdressed."

sure, you've seen photos of lewis shirtless before, but it doesn't compare to seeing it in person and up close, and...

fuck.

he's beautiful.

"that's not fair."

"what?" lewis laughs, crawling back over you after you both pull your pants off and toss them to the side, and your breath briefly catches in your throat as the scent of his cologne overwhelms your senses.

"you aren't allowed to be nice and hot. it doesn't work like that." lewis laughs, leaning down to press another kiss to your lips that intoxicates you more than any of the high proof alcohols you've drank in the past few hours.

"well, i guess i'm a rule breaker, then." he shuffles you up the bed so that your head rests on the plush pillows, sighing in relief when you think he's finally going to fuck you, but you gasp when he slides his way back down to your thighs, pulls them apart with his hands, and settles between them. "fuck."

"lewis, please. need you."

"what do you need, baby?" he teases as his hands begin stroking up and down your thighs. you're about to respond, but you cut yourself off with a cry when his fingers gently stroke up your panty-covered slit, the sensitivity making your back arch and your hands grip the sheets tightly.

"fucking hell, i... i need you to eat me out."

"i thought you'd never ask." his fingers tug at the waistband of your panties and you lift your hips slightly, just enough for him to slide them off of your legs and add them to the growing pile of clothing on the floor. without wasting a second, he dives into your cunt, tongue dragging along your slit from your entrance all the way up to your clit, and you both moan in unison. his hands grab at the meat of your ass, pulling your hips closer to his face, and you yelp, but it's quickly cut off with another moan as lewis' tongue prods at your entrance, hot and insistent.

"mmgh, lewis, fuck, so good." you barely have any control over your own mouth as lewis eats you out, his tongue expertly lapping up every part of your cunt as if it's the best meal he's ever tasted. he quickly figures out what makes you twitch and moan and focuses on that, his nose bumping against your clit as his jaw hinges open and he swallows you whole. his hands tightly grip your ass, the pads of his fingers digging into the skin and definitely leaving some form of marks to appear later in the night, but that's the least of your concerns when you have the world champion of motorsport between your legs. the moans that tumble past your lips echo off of the bare walls of the lavish hotel room, but not a single noise you make is embellished in the slightest- he's just making you feel that good. the coil in your tummy builds and builds, but your brain has been reduced to mush from pleasure, so you have to resort to scrabbling your hands at whatever you can grab, your fingers ultimately tugging at his neat braids. lewis thankfully gets the hint and only increases his efforts, his left hand moving from your ass to gently push two fingers into your entrance, and, when he curls them upwards, perfectly hitting your g-spot, you nearly sob, your orgasm hitting you a lot sooner than you had anticipated. "oh, lewis, don't stop, please. feels so good, baby, fuck."

lewis helps you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm, pulling his fingers out of you and pressing a tender kiss to your hipbone before climbing back up to you and connecting your lips in yet another messy kiss, and you groan when you can taste your cum on his tongue. when lewis' boxer-covered erection grinds against your sensitive clit, your mouth falls open in a gasp, letting him take the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth and run against yours. when you kiss him, it feels like you've stepped through the gates of heaven and you're kissing an angel. you suck greedily on lewis' tongue and he moans in response, making you smile into the kiss.

lewis pulls back momentarily and you pout, but the sight before you is absolutely beautiful. his skin glows with a thin sheen of sweat and his lips and chin are covered in a mix of your cum and spit. it's gorgeous. "are you okay with this?"

"more than okay," you grin, leaning up to peck his lips quickly. "it's fantastic."

"in that case, i'd love to fuck you properly..." at his words and the feeling of his lips ghosting down the side of your neck, pressing feather-light kisses along the sensitive skin, you shiver, your hands coming to rest on the sides of his torso. "if you'll have me, of course."

"please do." with another smile, lewis pushes himself up and off the bed, returning promptly with a condom in his hand. you bite your lip and watch eagerly as he pulls down his boxers, and...

fuck.

you're fucked.

"seriously, lewis? are you kidding?" your head falls back with an exasperated laugh, your shoulders shaking as you realize: of course he's big. if he's nice and attractive, then it's almost a guarantee that he's going to have a big dick. "you really just have it all, don't you?" the mattress dips, and you raise your head again, looking back at him as he crawls towards you, almost catlike in his motions.

"i could say the same for you. beautiful, kind, intelligent, an absolutely killer ass..." you scoff and roll your eyes, trying to come up with a cocky response, but your brain short circuits when you feel lewis begin to push the head of his cock into you. "oh, fuck."

"lewis, oh my god," you keen, your hands reaching up and finding purchase on his broad shoulders for stability. his left hand holds your waist while his right grips at your hip, the tightness of his hold almost painful... almost.

"baby, you're so tight. taking me so well. 's like you were made for me." you're pretty sure the words spilling from lewis' mouth are just mindless, sex-brain-induced babbles, but either way, it makes your pussy throb around him, and you both groan in pleasure when his hips finally meet yours. he looks down at you and almost chokes- you look absolutely stunning. your eyes are screwed shut, your lips parted as breathy moans sneak their way past them, and your hair is splayed around your head like a halo.

when you finally manage to pry your eyes open and steady your breathing, lewis is gazing down at you, and you can't help but pull him down for yet another kiss. how many times have you kissed him tonight?

not enough, you decide.

between soft and slow kisses, you breathe out the words that lewis has been praying you'll say: "you can move, lew." when he does, slowly pulling out most of the way before pushing back in, the drag of his cock against your walls makes you shudder, your nails digging into his shoulders and undoubtedly leaving crescent-moon shaped divots in the skin. "oh... oh, fuck, baby."

"you like that, baby? you like having my cock inside of you?"

all you can muster in response is a meek "mhmm," but that isn't enough for him. he grabs your face, forcing you to look at him, and halts his steady thrusts, making you whine.

"use your words. i know you can- you showed me this morning."

"yes!" you sob. "yes, i love feeling you fill me up. i love it, lewis. it feels so good. feels perfect."

"there you go. i knew you could do it." his words make you moan even louder as he resumes his thrusts, this time at a much faster pace. "fuck, look at that. taking me so well... i can even see it. gimme your hand, baby. feel it yourself." he places your left hand low on your stomach, just between your hipbones, and... oh.

oh.

you can feel his dick filling you up under your hand.

"lewis, oh my god!" your moans only increase in volume with his own when he presses down onto the bulge in your tummy with his hand, changing how deeply you feel him, and it sends you hurtling towards your second orgasm of the night embarrassingly fast. "fuck, fuck, lewis, don't stop. feels so good, baby, just like that, yes!" your own hand sneaks around his wrist and rubs circles around your clit, which makes you clench around him, which in turn throws you into your orgasm. "lewis, 'm cumming, 'm cumming, ah!"

"just like that, baby, cum for me. so perfect. so, so perfect." lewis talks and fucks you through your orgasm, his own fingers taking over when yours falter on your clit. when the end of your orgasm trails off, you try to catch your breath, but when your post-orgasmic clarity dawns on you, you realize that lewis didn't cum.

"oh, fuck, lewis... let me suck you off. you didn't cum."

"are you sure? i'm-" he cuts himself off with a grunt, his hips stuttering as he slows his thrusts so as to not hurt you in your oversensitive state, but when you nod, your bottom lip pinched seductively between your teeth, he gives in. "alright, yeah. yeah." he pulls out of you and you roll over, shuffling your way down the bed until you're settled between his legs, your arms resting on his upper thighs.

"you're so pretty, lewis. so, so pretty." if it was a bit brighter in the room, you would've seen the way lewis' mouth ticks open and his dick twitches at your praise, but the singular bedside lamp is barely enough to light the room. instead of noticing, you gently peel the condom off of his cock and toss it in the trash can underneath the bedside table, then settle back between lewis' legs and let a fat drop of saliva leak onto his cock.

"fuck, if you keep saying things like that i'm not gonna last long," lewis groans, his head thrown back into the pillows.

"oh, you don't want to hear me call you pretty? you don't want me to say that you're one of the most beautiful people i've ever laid eyes on, and that i've waited months to be here just to tell you that?" your hand begins lazily stroking his hard cock as you continue rambling shamelessly, your mind a sex-addled haze that you have nearly no control over. after watching in awe as a pearly bead of precum swells at the head of lewis' cock, you decide that enough is enough and that you have to taste him. your tongue falls out of your mouth, the flat of it brushing up the bottom of his dick until you reach the tip, and then you secure your lips around it, and fuck, if having the taste of lewis' cum on your tongue isn't enough to make your eyes flutter shut for a moment, you don't know what is.

lewis' hand finds itself in your hair, pulling gently as you begin to bob your head along the length of his dick, and you can't help but feel pride bloom in your chest when his hips begin bucking up to meet your mouth and hand, shoving the tip so far back you swear the back of your throat might be slightly bruised in the morning. you moan shamelessly as he does so, letting him fuck your mouth as he pleases until he cums, warm ropes of sticky fluid filling your mouth as he spills into you. pulling off, you swallow part of his load and clean what little remains off of his softening cock with gentle kitten licks, smiling faintly as he whimpers quietly at the oversensitivity. after crawling up to the head of the bed and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, lewis' eyes search yours before dipping down to your mouth. you're a bit confused as his left hand comes up to your face, thinking he's going to kiss you again, but instead, his thumb swipes against the corner of your mouth and pries past your lips, a silent order that you obey willingly. you'd missed one tiny drop of his cum on your cheek. his thumb pops out of your mouth momentarily and you collapse down next to him, the exhaustion of the jam-packed day finally catching up to you.

"i'm gonna go grab a towel to clean you up, yeah?" you nod sleepily, a quiet hum escaping your body. "you're staying here tonight. i won't stand for letting you out of my bed for the next twelve hours." this time, if a question mark could be a sound, that's the noise you make. lewis understands you, though. "we'll take my jet. don't worry about your fight." another content sound from you.

by the time lewis returns to the bed, warm damp washcloth in hand, you're asleep, and he can't help but tuck the strands of hair out of your face after he cleans up your swollen cunt and tucks you into the soft bedding, joining you shortly thereafter.

yeah.

he's fucked.

[limewatt]

on a walk rn and it’s really foggy. it’s nice

[imagines--galore]

||Theatrics||

Summary: During a little impromptu training session, you happen to sprain your ankle. Luckily Zuko is around to help you back to Katara so she can help. Unfortunately for Zuko, you have a tendency to be slightly dramatic about your injuries.

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. Fluff. Slight mention of injury but that about it.

A/N: You guys voted, so here it is! Also gif is definitely Zuko’s reactions to reader’s.....theatrics :3

"I’m dying!”

“You’re not dying Y/n.”

“Then why is the world growing dark!?”

“You probably have your eyes closed.”

"I do not need your sass while I am dying Zuko!”

“Well maybe you should shut up before I drop your dying butt.”

Smack.

“Ow!”

“Rude Zuko!”

“Thats it! You can crawl back for all I care.”

“No! Wait! Zuko! Wait!! I’ll be quiet.”

“One more word out of you, and I won’t carry you back.”

Katara looked up from where she had been mending Sokka’s shirt, again. There was no one in sight yet Zuko and Y/n’s voices were loud enough to echo along the path leading up to the main courtyard of the Ember Island Summer House. She stood, dropping her sewing to side as she quickly made her way towards the door and peered outside.

It took a minute or so, but then she saw the approaching figure of Zuko with.......you on his back. An amused smile played across the young waterbender’s lips as she watched the Fire Nation prince approach with you slung over his back, your arms wrapped around his shoulders to keep yourself in place.

“Katara! Oh! Now I won’t perish! Or perhaps I will? The pain is too much.” You moaned, throwing your head back for dramatic effect, the force of which nearly made Zuko stumble in his steps. Katara giggled as Zuko huffed in annoyance.

“She twisted her ankle.” He explained as he carried you into the courtyard with Katara trailing behind.

“And who’s fault is that? If you hadn’t startled me during my practice then I wouldn’t have twisted it.” You snapped back. Clearly the pain was making you more then a little cranky.

Zuko rolled his eyes, turning around and dropping you, rather unceremoniously onto the wooden platform that led to the rooms. You gave a little yelp, glaring at the Prince who smirked back as you rubbed your tailbone a little. Katara, ever the kind soul, carefully removed your shoe. You let out a soft hiss as the leather was slipped off.

Removing the cork from her water pouch, Katara made quick work of assessing the damage. “Well you definitely twisted it. I’ll try to heal it as much as I can, but it’ll be a little while before you’re able to walk on it properly. Probably a day or two.” You turned to glare at Zuko who rolled his eyes. “I’ve blasted you off the side of a flying bison Y/n. I don’t see you holding a grudge about that against me.” He said, referring to the days when he had spent chasing Aang and the rest of them.

“Yeah, well I got my revenge when I knocked you out with a blow to the back of your head.” As Katara started her healing process you held up a threatening finger in his direction. “You better watch out Princey, I will have my revenge.”

Zuko smirked. “What will you do? Hobble after me waving a crutch?” You growled under your breath, looking like you would leap at him at any moment. And if your ankle wasn’t throbbing so much you would have.

“Now now children. Lets not fight.” Katara said in a mocking tone as she tried to contain her laughter. You let out a small sound of relief as some of the throbbing was alleviated as Katara worked her healing abilities. “You’re a spirit-send Katara.” You said, gratitude shining in your eyes as you grinned at the girl.

Zuko frowned. “What am I? An ostrich-horse? I carried you back and you don’t call me a spirit-send.” You turned your attention back towards him, an annoyed frown creasing your forehead. “And who’s fault was it that you had to carry me back?”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“I am a performer, I’m supposed to be dramatic.”

“Over dramatic you mean.”

“Need I remind you, the acting company I worked for won awards for being one of the best in the Earth Kingdom.”

“Probably when you weren’t working for them.”

“As if your dramatic self is any better? Out of all of us, who’s the one moaning about his so-called honor all the time?”

“That was in the past.”

“The past was only a couple months ago, Princey.”

“Shut it Drama Queen.”

“Ah! At least I’m a rank above you, you fire-breathing-”

“Er.....guys?”

You and Zuko broke eye-contact to glare at the poor unsuspecting Avatar who had just arrived from the market with Sokka, Suki and Toph from an errand run.

“What?” The two of you snapped in unison, prompting Aang to let out a nervous laugh and slowly back off, holding his hands up in a surrendering manner.

Taking the lull in the argument, Katara quickly finished bandaging up your ankle and patted it in a reassuring manner. “There, you’ll be all better tomorrow.” You gave a small smile in thanks to the girl before gripping the sides of the wooden platform and slowly starting to stand. You tried putting some weight on your bad ankle, only to wince at the pain that radiated from there. It was much better then what it had been a few moments ago, but it still hurt.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I shall be retiring to my room.” With a haughty look in Zuko’s direction, you turned towards where you room was.

"Isn’t our room upstairs Y/n?”Toph helpfully reminded you, causing you to pause from hobbling forward. Your face fell, shoulders slumping, causing Sokka to let out a bark of laughter, only to shut up when Suki gave his shoulder a light punch.

“Hey Aang? Can Appa drop me into my room through the window?” You asked, turning to the younger boy with a pleading look. Before Aang could reply, Zuko let out a loud groan, throwing his head back to stare at the sky as he growled.

"For the love of Spirits!”

With that he stomped forward, and before you even got the chance to say anything, he had lifted you off the ground, one arm secured around your waist, the other under your knees to keep you from falling. Meanwhile, you had let out a shriek of surprise, your arms coming to wrap around his shoulders.

“If we want to defeat the Father Lord, you’d better start laying off from the FireFlakes.” He grumbled as he began to carry you towards the stairs.

“Its Fire Lord, and are you insinuating that I am fat?!”

“I said that! And I’m not insinuating, I’m stating a fact.”

Thwack!

“Ow! Will you stop hitting me?!”

“Then stop being so rude. I thought Prince’s were all about manners and chivalry when it comes to ladies.”

“Lady? You? Please! Toph is much more of a lady then you are.”

Thwack!

“You hit me one more time and I’ll drop you on these stairs.”

“Do it! I’d rather crawl up then be carried by you anyway!”

“Ungrateful brat!”

“Pouty prince!”

“Drama queen!”

“Honor bound jerk!”

Your voices started to muffle to the rest of the group as the two of you walked further into the house. The younger members of the group stood where they were, a little dumbfounded at what had just occurred.

“I bet you anything these two are gonna be even worse with their flirting when they get married.”

Sokka gaped at Toph, who stood there smirking.

“That was flirting?!” He exclaimed, prompting his girlfriend to roll her eyes at her boyfriend, smiling at how oblivious Sokka could be. Aang blinked his wide grey eyes. “You know, now that I think about it, whenever we fought Zuko in the past, Y/n always had something to say to him.”

“And he always said something back.” Katara added, the laughter obvious in her tone as she continued to listen to the muffled arguing through the wooden floor above.

[venusiancharisma]

Rising Sign & Your Perfect Festival Outfit

Here are the perfect any music festival outfits for each of the 12 zodiac signs and Ascendants, with details on color schemes, materials, accents, and overall aesthetics:

PSA: Images and descriptions are both complimentary, so they may not be entirely identical, but everything is relevent.

Aries Rising: Bold and daring, an Aries rising would rock a fiery red crop top paired with high-waisted denim shorts. Accessorize with a black leather choker, combat boots, and a statement belt. The outfit screams confidence and adventure.

Taurus Rising: Earthy and sensual, a Taurus rising would opt for a flowy, bohemian-style maxi dress in shades of green and brown. Pair with a leather fringe vest, ankle boots, and a wide-brimmed hat. The outfit exudes comfort and laid-back elegance.

Gemini Rising: Playful and eclectic, a Gemini rising would mix and match patterns and colors. A graphic tee paired with a colorful, patterned skirt, fishnet stockings, and high-top sneakers. Accessorize with layered necklaces and quirky sunglasses for a fun, youthful vibe.

Cancer Rising: Soft and feminine, a Cancer rising would choose a vintage-inspired, pale blue sundress with delicate lace details. Pair with a cozy, oversized cardigan, ankle-strap sandals, and a small, cross-body bag. The outfit radiates comfort and nostalgia.

Leo Rising: Bold and dramatic, a Leo rising would make a statement in a metallic gold romper with a plunging neckline. Accessorize with a chunky, gold chain necklace, oversized sunglasses, and platform heels. The outfit screams glamour and confidence.

Virgo Rising: Clean and practical, a Virgo rising would opt for a crisp, white button-down shirt tucked into high-waisted, black denim shorts. Pair with a black leather belt, minimalist jewelry, and comfortable, low-top sneakers. The outfit is polished and effortlessly chic.

Libra Rising: Elegant and balanced, a Libra rising would choose a flowy, pastel pink maxi skirt paired with a white, off-the-shoulder crop top. Accessorize with delicate, gold jewelry, strappy sandals, and a woven clutch. The outfit is feminine and harmonious.

Scorpio Rising: Mysterious and alluring, a Scorpio rising would opt for a black, lace bodysuit paired with high-waisted, faux leather leggings. Layer with a sheer, black kimono, and accessorize with a choker, ankle boots, and a dark, smoky eye. The outfit is seductive and intense.

Sagittarius Rising: Adventurous and free-spirited, a Sagittarius rising would rock a tie-dye, cropped t-shirt paired with distressed, cut-off denim shorts. Accessorize with a woven, multicolored belt, layered anklets, and gladiator sandals. The outfit is playful and adventurous.

Capricorn Rising: Classic and sophisticated, a Capricorn rising would choose a sleek, solid & colored co-ord with a structured, cinched waist. Pair with knee high or thigh high black boots or dainty shoes, minimalist jewelry, and subtly refined look. The outfit is timeless and powerful.

Aquarius Rising: Unique and unconventional, an Aquarius rising would opt for a holographic, iridescent bodysuit paired with high-waisted, flared pants. Accessorize with a chunky, silver choker, platform boots, and a brightly colored, faux fur coat. The outfit is futuristic and eccentric.

Pisces Rising: Dreamy and ethereal, a Pisces rising would choose a flowy, sheer, pastel purple maxi dress with delicate, floral embroidery. Layer with a soft, crochet cardigan, and accessorize with a flower crown, layered, beaded necklaces, and strappy, barefoot sandals. The outfit is whimsical and enchanting.

[lucysarah-c]

Mother's smile

Summary: Raging war, it turns boys into men. Author note: Since the Marley world seemed to be around the 30s-40s, I’ll set this idea in a world that looks like the mid-50s. This is POST WAR. I've no idea what is this... the idea just came into my mind. Warnings: None...Angst? Perhaps? Word count: 3.8k Pairing: Dad! Levi x Mom! Reader

The muscles of his body twitched as he ran up and down, changing the train’s platform to return home. His hair flowed in the air, almost freezing from the bitter cold. He could feel the icy air biting at his undercut and chilling everything in its path. Exhaustion escaped with every puff of his reddened lips, the air condensing in front of his face. Yet, he kept running, desperate to connect one train to another.

If he didn’t time it perfectly, his family might begin to suspect he wasn't going to practice. He had quickly changed back into his regular school uniform in one of the train station's public bathrooms.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a couple of girls. They couldn't be older than him, mumbling and locking eyes. He had no time to dwell on it, but he couldn't ignore it either. It was becoming a regular occurrence. People were starting to recognize him in the crowded streets of the capital.

"Why?" he wondered, even though he knew the answer. But he reasoned, "There are TV stars and movie actresses who take the train… I'm nobody."

He knew. Ever since someone took unauthorized pictures of him during practice, fully suited up, and they were posted first in the Paradise newspaper and then spread worldwide.

"Oh my- Sorry!" He almost tripped over someone. He quickly dodged a mother carrying two kids. "I’m SO sorry," he insisted.

"Please, something for my kids," she pleaded.

Levi's intuition told him something had been off lately.

"I’m so sorry… I have nothing," he replied, feeling a deep pang in his heart. The hunger and misery on the streets had only worsened since the war restarted.

—

"Could you set the table, love? Dinner is almost ready," Y/N said, breaking his deep thoughts as she handed him a pile of dishes. "It's just that the pot is old, and if I stop stirring it-"

"Sure," Levi quickly replied, not needing any further explanation. He stood up, grabbed the dishes, and wobbled a bit on his way to the dining room. "Tch," he clicked his tongue as he checked the clock. This was usually his son's duty.

Speak of the devil, the front door swung open. "I’M HOME!" Adrien shouted as he entered. 'Finally,' Levi thought. It was winter, and it got dark outside rather quickly.

"Welcome home, dear," Y/N said, peeking over from the kitchen to see her son taking off his shoes and coat in the hall. He quickly moved to give her a kiss on the cheek. "I was starting to wonder."

"I'm fine, I'm fine, mom," Adrien said, hurriedly.

"Dinner is ready," Y/N announced.

Adrien rushed into the dining room and almost bumped into his father.

"Where the hell have you been?" Levi demanded, almost pushing the dishware into his son’s arms.

"Sorry, I'll do it-" Adrien began, but as soon as he got closer, Levi grimaced in disgust.

"Shower, now. You stink," Levi commanded, holding onto the dishes.

Adrien took a quick sniff and seemed puzzled by his father's reaction. Groaning, he quickly moved upstairs. Levi frowned and continued setting the table. "The hormones are certainly working," he muttered.

Adrien had been arriving slightly late recently, not enough to raise concern but enough to annoy Levi. "The train services are delayed by the power outages…" Y/N tried to explain. These issues had become common since the war resumed and was edging closer to home as Paradise's forces, led by a queen Levi once helped put on the throne, continued their campaign.

Unauthorized pictures of his son had made it to the front page. His baby boy, photographed by spies. 'They fucking did not.' HIS baby boy, mocked by Paradise's news.

Initially, Levi thought it was a fluke. He went to grab the morning's newspaper at the front door and noticed the front page was missing. 'Maybe the boy tore it without realizing,' he thought. The delivery was usually smooth, so he dismissed it. He figured he could grab another edition on his way to his meeting. But when he saw it, his blood boiled.

Levi was furious. He broke every personal vow he had made to himself, that whatever war Paradise and the Jaegerists wanted to get into after almost 15 years post-Rumbling was none of his business. But taking pictures of HIS son and making fun of him? He made calls to people he hadn’t spoken to in years and simply stated, "Keep my son’s name out of your fucking mouth."

Adrien had been offered personal 3DMG training by the government from a very young age. Levi and Y/N were not naive. They knew since Adrien was a little kid why the government wanted him. He was Levi’s only child. The only available Ackerman after Levi and Mikasa stopped the Rumbling.

Levi had decided to break ties with the Paradise government because they continued to support the Jaegerists. He moved to another country, seeking peace for his family. That country was one of the few places the Rumbling hadn't devastated. He, Onkopop, Falco, Gabi, his wife, and his kids lived a peaceful life for many years.

Falco and Gabi eventually moved out as they grew older, though they visited frequently. Levi wanted to give his kid the childhood he never had. But he couldn't protect him forever. Adrien had insisted on practicing with 3DMG after being offered the chance as a kid. Levi stood firm on his decision. No. It was a firm no for months. Adrien was going to have a normal childhood, playing sports with his classmates and eating lunches packed by his mother. Levi had moved across the globe for his family to live without war, his family by blood and the one he made along the way.

The door slammed, surprising him. The family dog rushed to bark at the sound.

"Addy? You okay, kiddo?" Gabi asked, as they were still living with them. Hearing his son's name, Levi got up and walked as fast as his injuries allowed. It was too early for Adrien to be back from school. Also, Levi was the one who usually picked him up.

Wobbling, he reached the bedroom door, which was unusually closed. Even before he reached it, his heart began to ache as he could hear his 7-year-old boy's muffled cries. Adrien's chubby legs dangled from the edge of his bed, his face buried in the pillow.

"Oi, oi, oi," Levi said softly as he reached the bed and tried to gently push Adrien’s shoulder to the side to see his face. Adrien resisted. "Kid, what happened? Why are you back from school?"

Levi's mind raced, searching for injuries, any sign of hurt. Trying to come up with reasons, his brain was haunted by his baby’s endless tears.

"They kicked me off the team," Adrien finally managed to say between sobs. "The mothers complained that it’s not fair that I play."

Levi's heart sank. It had been hard for Adrien to make friends as a kid from another country, and he was obsessed with baseball since being allowed to join the team. He loved having a group of friends.

"I hate it, I hate it!" Adrien's soul-breaking cries echoed as his young mind couldn't comprehend the reasons. "Why can't I be normal?"

Levi forced himself out of his shock, slightly shaking his head to clear his mind. "Don’t say that. You’re normal. I'll talk to your teachers-"

Talking had never been his strength. He wished his wife was home.

“No, I’m not! All my friends look at me weirdly! Nobody wants to play with me anymore!” Adrien screamed at the top of his lungs. The frustration of his father not understanding only added salt to the wound. “I hate it!”

“No, Adrien—I'll talk—”

“I hate being an Ackerman!”

Levi felt as if he had been stabbed in the heart. White noise filled his head, merging with the sound of his son’s cries. Levi argued with himself that it shouldn’t have hurt as deeply as it did. “He’s just a kid who wants to play with the others,” he thought, remembering all the arguments he’d had with sports teams.

“It’s just not fair to the other kids, Mr. Ackerman.”

‘Next time, just point to my head,’ he thought bitterly. Watching his son sit on the benches with doe-like red eyes, trying to hold back tears at school, haunted Levi. He had come to pick him up and was forced to stay behind while the rest of the team practiced.

Falco and Gabi tried to play with him when they had free time, but they had their own responsibilities. Levi himself tried to play with Adrien as much as his injured leg allowed, but how fun could a one-on-one game be?

For many months, Levi refused to let Adrien take special training offered by the government. He knew they only saw his son as a potential new weapon.

“Daddy, did you see me? Did you see me?” Adrien’s face lit up with a smile that seemed too big for it, brimming with excitement after mastering a new 3DMG trick.

“Mm-hmm,” Levi hummed in approval, watching his son with a mix of pride and concern.

“He’s a prodigy, sir,” the female soldier standing next to him remarked. “You must be such a proud father.”

Levi’s death stare could hardly be disguised as he clenched his teeth. ‘This is wrong,’ he thought, but his hand, missing two fingers, reached for the Polaroid camera and took a picture. ‘It can’t be that wrong… if he’s smiling like this.’

“And then I twist! And then I jump! And then I—” Adrien rambled on excitedly at the dinner table.

“Addy, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Y/N gently reprimanded him, but he continued to beam, bright and cheerful, happy.

If teaching his boy everything he knew about 3DMG made him smile again, then perhaps it was worth it. He did it for his baby, only for his baby.

Adrien had grown into a moody teenager who now stole his car and rarely talked to Levi without an attitude. Levi wasn’t usually the melancholic type, but he missed the days when he was greeted at home with tight hugs and dreamy eyes.

Now, the war was getting closer to home. Paradise, untouched during the Rumbling, was growing increasingly tense. The Jaegerists wanted to finish what Eren had started, and the new regime wasn’t open to negotiation. They demanded blood; they demanded fire.

Admiring his reflection in the mirror, Levi noted how tired he looked. Time was unforgiving. He spotted several grey hairs among what used to be pristine raven locks. History seemed to be repeating itself, and sometimes he felt like he had fought for nothing. Small towns that were slowly rebuilding after the Rumbling were falling under the power of an island he had once defended with his blood and sweat.

The tie felt tight around his neck as he adjusted the bow tie. He had been asked—almost forced—to attend a charity event to raise funds for displaced refugees and military forces. They had declared war only a few months ago, and he felt strangely hopeless. “I’m just old,” he whispered to himself.

“Hey…”

Levi turned to his left to see his 16-year-old son leaning against the door frame with folded arms.

“Hey,” Levi greeted back cautiously. “I’ve no money,” he added quickly, the interaction feeling odd since Adrien rarely came into the couple’s bedroom, much less to talk to him.

Adrien rolled his eyes so dramatically Levi thought he might tear a muscle. “I wasn’t going to ask for anything!”

The teenager walked in and sat down on the bed, petting the cat. His long face and distant, translucent eyes were hard to ignore. Levi watched him for a while before turning back to the mirror to continue getting ready. The silence was so heavy it felt like breathing steam from the Colossal Titan.

After several minutes, Adrien's voice broke the silence, trembling with emotion. “You… you know I love you, Dad, right?”

Levi turned around, frowning deeply. “… What did you do?” he asked instinctively.

“Nothing!” Adrien's defensive tone only made him more suspicious.

“You got a chick knocked up?” Levi guessed quietly.

“W-what?!” Adrien’s face turned beet red with embarrassment. “NO!”

“What—”

“NOTHING! I did nothing!” Adrien protested, jumping up from the bed and heading for the door. “I’m never saying it again, you old man!”

The door slammed, and Levi clenched his teeth. The mood swings were something he wasn’t used to, no matter how hard he tried. Levi clicked his tongue. ‘What’s gotten into him lately?’

That was the issue; everything had been slightly off. Not enough to raise serious concerns, but as Levi walked downstairs to leave for the event, his mind kept replaying the scene in their bedroom. ‘Something smells off.’

‘I may be getting fucking old, but I’m not crazy.’

“He’s trying to grow up. Let’s show him that we trust him. Let’s give him some freedom, as long as he respects the curfew,” Y/N had tried to explain that shutting their son off wasn’t going to help.

Adrien’s insistence on coming home on his own… Levi had always driven him to and from school, especially since the school was quite far away by public transport. After the photo incident, Levi didn’t feel it was safe for his kid to walk back alone.

The front page of the newspaper had been missing the day his boy’s picture and the Paradise headline appeared:

“The Ackerman’s Cub: As Harmless as a Pussycat.”

Levi cursed at the memory, yanking his coat from the hanger by the door. Arms in—

It was too big.

He looked down at the sleeves, which hung past his hands. A part of his ego cracked a little—it was his son’s coat. His baby boy was growing non-stop, now 193 cm tall.

“Soon, he won’t fit through the damn door,” Levi muttered, half offended, half endeared. He wondered if he would have grown that tall if he hadn’t suffered so much as a child. “He truly inherited Kenny’s height,” his wife would say as their kid grew taller and taller.

Putting on his own coat—it was freezing outside—Levi sat in his car, but his mind kept circling back to it.

Adrien arriving late by only 10-15 minutes. His recent attitude wasn’t just typical teenage sulkiness; it was different. Adrien was distant but not moody.

Already at the party, Onyankopon, Falco, Gabi, and Y/N were talking around him, but Levi wasn’t there, at least not mentally. Call it the universe, call it signs, call it his Ackerman instincts. Call it what you want. But Levi knew something wasn’t right.

Suddenly, fragments of memories from the past month flashed through his mind. They hadn’t seemed suspicious at the time, just slightly unusual. Like that moment when he picked up something from Y/N’s boudoir table and got pricked by a needle.

“Ow,” he muttered, though it didn’t really hurt.

“Oh, I left a needle out? I thought I put it away,” she said innocently, placing it back in the sewing box.

Or when he was walking down the upper floor’s hall and noticed the string hanging from the attic hatch swaying. “Y/N, did you go to the attic?”

“No, why?”

“Nothing…” He meant to ask Adrien about it but got distracted by the teen blasting his record player.

Levi opened the door without knocking. He had warned Adrien to keep the door open multiple times. The teenager quickly turned down the rock music. “Hey!” Adrien complained, but Levi didn’t care.

“How many times do I have to tell you to keep the volume down? I’m half-blind; don’t make me deaf too,” Levi ordered. Before leaving, he added, “And get your shoes off the bed.”

Levi’s leg tapped against the floor uneasily. Something was not right. The silence of his brain seeking a logical explanation was becoming deafening. His wife squeezed his arm, drawing his attention.

“Captain Ackerman,” a man approached them, bowing slightly out of respect. Levi’s days as a captain were long gone, but he never lost the title in the eyes of some. “It’s an honor…”

The man’s hands fidgeted nervously as a timid smile appeared on his face. He pressed his lips together, wet them, and then opened them as if trying to find the right words. “It must fill your heart with pride that you and your family stood up in such a difficult situation and did the right thing. As a representative of the Eldian community outside Paradise, we don’t stand with the Jaegerist decisions—”

Levi dismissed him quickly. “No need to praise me,” he cut in, anticipating the man’s gratitude for his role in the fight against Eren during the Rumbling. “I fought for what I believed was right.”

The man’s face twisted in confusion. “No—I…” he stammered, his previous uneasiness turning to confusion. “I wanted to thank you and acknowledge your family’s altruistic action.”

“No need—”

“I mean, it must be an honor but also extremely hard for you as a father to allow your son to volunteer for the front lines.”

It hit Levi like a thunder spear, just as the one he had once used against Zeke. As if the explosion had gone off right next to him, and he could only hear the ringing in his ears. Y/N’s grip on his arm loosened in shock before her nails dug in as the realization sank in.

Despite his Ackerman powers, Levi felt control over his body slip away as his legs shook. It felt impossible to breathe as he drove back home as fast as he could, but it surely felt as if his lungs caught no oxygen.

He slammed the door open, his injured leg giving way as he rushed upstairs to his son’s bedroom. Pain fading into nothing as it once did during the war. The white noise in his brain was shattered by Y/N’s piercing scream when they found the bedroom empty, except for a single paper note on the made bed. Falco held Y/N as she broke down in tears.

Levi’s face remained expressionless, but it felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest. Holding the note in his hands, he sank onto the mattress. The bed where he had once read Mother Goose stories.

“I’m sorry… I just couldn’t sit back and do nothing.

P.S. Sorry for the coat.”

His baby, his baby boy. The mere thought of Adrien witnessing even half of what he had as a soldier brought tears to Levi’s eyes, a knot forming in his throat. His child, stolen from his arms, dragged into the chaos like pigs to a slaughterhouse. Everything Levi had fought for, everything he had done…

If only he hadn’t used that thunder spear, he would be as good as new. He would have fought a thousand wars and led a thousand more just to keep his baby safe at home. To wake up to Y/N making his favorite waffles on a lazy Sunday morning.

It should have been him. He should have been in better shape. If only—

After a few days, Levi understood what Adrien meant about the coat in the note. His lost eyes fixed on the piece of clothing that had been cut. His old scout’s jacket, stored in the attic, had been altered. Adrien must have cut and sewn the Wings of Freedom patch onto something else. The house had become a cemetery since the day Adrien left. Y/N hadn’t been able to sleep soundly as she usually did, waking at the slightest sound.

“I thought I heard the front door,” she said, as Levi tried to calm her down in the middle of the night.

Levi hated rock music; he found it too noisy. But one afternoon, he felt compelled to put on one of Adrien’s records. Each second felt like it was squeezing the life out of him.

As the days passed, the missing front page of the newspaper became a sign enough. The news arrived loudly at their home.

“Undaunted. As the higher-ranks abandoned the zone, giving up the strategic petrol supply, Adrien Ackerman held the front lines and won.

A kid worth an entire army, honoring his name.”

Levi’s eyes scanned the paragraphs without emotion. “While all wore the same uniform, Ackerman decided to stick a striking patch to his. ‘They called me powerless, so I made myself an easy target. If they want to come for me, let them come, and I’ll put up a fight,’” the article quoted Adrien.

A scoff escaped Levi’s lips; he had surely inherited his temper.

“I cut and stuck the article to my locker to remind myself who I have to show their place,” Adrien replied when asked about the Paradise press’s coverage.

“LEVI!” Y/N’s voice echoed through the house. He rushed to her side with worry, only to find her smiling softly and sobbing as she watched the black-and-white TV.

The screen showed his baby boy, his comrades ruffling his hair, beer bottles flying in celebration, and citizens offering him drinks. They hadn’t won the war, but it was clear this victory was much needed to lift their spirits. People looked at Adrien with starry eyes, much like they had looked at Levi after their first wins against the Titans.

Levi’s lips trembled as he bit the inside of his cheeks, trying to hold his composure.

“He’s alright,” Y/N whispered, slightly relieved. “God, he got your knack for giving me a heart attack.”

She tried to joke, but noticing her husband’s silence, she turned around. “Oh… Lev…” she sighed, quickly moving to hug him tightly.

Tears streamed down Levi’s cheeks as he watched his baby on the screen, basking in the attention and hope he gave to others. They hadn’t won the war, but for now, it was enough.

“We knew deep down we couldn’t shelter him forever,” Y/N said, caressing him. She understood the weight now on Adrien’s shoulders, responsibilities that had haunted Levi for many years. She sighed, making peace with herself. A part of her had known from the moment she gave birth to an Ackerman that this day would come.

However, through watery eyes, Levi saw something different. Watching the young man on the screen, Levi whispered with a broken voice the same words he had said when Adrien was born.

“He got your smile.”

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthor @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @storiesofsung @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @r3becca_0 @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @hyuckwon-my-husbands @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇…

hello! sorry for not posting anything in a while, I haven't had any motivation but this is an idea I've been thinking of for about a year now! I hope you all enjoy it.

summary - it's your first day working for the famous weatherman ari levinson, it turned out a lot better than you expected.

warning - smut, voyeurism, recording, daddy kink, choking, fingering, creampie, swearing, degrading, slut shaming, semi-public sex, powerplay.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You walk into the building, excitement building with each step. Your knee-length skirt rests tightly on your hips, cupping your arse wonderfully and your tucked-in, light purple blouse hugs your figure, barely containing your breasts from spilling out. Your heels click against the tile, and your heart squeezes inside your chest as you near the room. Your hand shook slightly as you reached for the handle, pushing the door open, your eyes widening as you took in the hustle. Everyone was moving fast, ensuring everything was getting done in time. 

Your breath catches in your throat when your eyes land on the infamous weatherman. The man every woman has wet dreams about, the man they’d happily get up early for just to see him on their screen. You watched as women fluttered around him, refreshing his make-up, to make him look perfect for the TV but that was impossible, he was already perfect enough. You felt your knickers dampen, slick gathering between your thighs, cunt throbbing as your eyes connected with his. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, you swear you were on the verge of a panic attack when he smirked, his eyes moving up and down your body slowly before he licked his lips. Ari Levinson was going to be the death of you and all womankind.

“Miss?” You blink, breaking eye contact with a god and shyly look at another man trying to get your attention. “Mr Levinson is ready for you. You will be training alongside him, so he said to meet him in the weather section.” You nod, happily but shyly follow along, keeping your head down so you don’t accidentally catch his eye again. The man stops in the area and shows you where you will be standing. A table is wheeled in and you grow confused, never seeing a table in this part of the news before. 

“What is the table for, if it’s not too much to ask?” You stare at it curiously, tilting your head to the side. 

The man shrugs before his hand flies to the earphone connected to his ear and he speaks to the person on the other side. He looks at you. “Mr Levinson will be here in a few seconds.” That’s all he says as he turns and leaves you to stand there by yourself. You look around, standing with your hands interlocked in front of you. 

You are so busy looking down at your shoes, getting lost in your own world that you don’t notice the man himself has made his way over. His navy blue suit hugged his figure perfectly, his shoes shined, and his medium-length hair was combed and pushed out of his face. “Good morning, Miss L/N” You jump, looking up with wide eyes as you notice he’s neared, standing so close that you can practically smell his cologne. “It’s a pleasure to have you here.” He reaches forward, expecting a handshake.

You stumble, quickly slipping your hand into his, feeling a shiver rush through your body as you make contact, his hand so warm and large. “G–good morning, Mr Levinson! It’s a pleasure to be working with you!” You stutter, spurting out words as you peer up at him through your lashes. Your chest heaving as his blue eyes stare down at you. “I–uh…” You look between him and the table. “May I ask what the table is for? I’ve never seen you use it in one of your reports.” You gulp, hoping that you haven’t disappointed him immediately. 

Ari smirks, his hand comes around and rests on your lower back, leading you over to the table in speaking. “I have something special planned for this one. You, my little costar. Will be my special guest.” He smiles down at you, something darker behind his eyes. You didn’t know, but the moment Ari had seen you in the interview, he knew he needed to have you any way he could and he planned something so naughty, so sexual that the whole world would talk about it. “You don’t mind, do you, sweetness?”

“N–no! I don’t mind at all, Mr Levinson! I am just honoured to be working with you! You see, I am a big fan!” You blink up at him, wondering how he could be even more perfect up close. “I will do anything to make this perfect!” Ari’s grin widens, and you shift as he continues to stare. “I–is there something on my face, Mister?” 

Ari shakes his head and moves away from you, he runs his hand through his hair and gets in position. “No, sweetness. Now, be a good girl and stand behind the table for me.” He gestures, watching with lustful eyes as you obey immediately. He holds back a groan as his gaze falls to your arse, loving how the skirt hugs it so perfectly. Ari blinks and his face becomes straight, his eyes move from your plump arse to the cameraman, and he gives a slight nod, showing that he is ready. Once he gets the signal, he begins. “Good morning everyone! I am your weatherman Ari Levinson and I have a special guest with me today! Please welcome, Miss Y/n L/n!” 

You smile shyly, giving a small wave and you feel your body heat up as Ari takes a step closer to you, brushing up against you. “H–hi!” You clear your throat and straighten your back, wanting to be seen as a professional instead of some shy little girl. 

Ari’s hand brushes against your hip, and you swallow down the whimper that threatens to escape. A giddy geek by the name of Jake Jensen stands behind the camera, anticipating what's to come. He was amazed at how Ari could work his looks and money, being able to persuade everyone in the building to leave to let him do the weather announcement without them. He trusts his good friend to stream this live video to the house filled with the other group of friends. All the men gather around the couch, waiting for his friend to bless them with a good show. 

Ari presses against you, his bulge resting between your plump cheeks and you let out a small whine. “Why don’t you tell our audience what the weather will be like today, okay, sweetness?” You gulp, blinking a few times as you try and pull yourself back from the fuzziness. His hand comes up and he strokes your cheek with his knuckles, “You there, sweetness?” 

You nod, sighing softly. “Y–yes, I’m here. Uh, the weather today is said to be cloudy with a–a…” You stop, eyes widening when you feel Ari begin to grind against you, his hand sliding to the front of you, slowly pulling your skirt up. 

He leans forward, whispering in your ear. “Keep going, You wouldn’t want to lose your job on your first day, now would you?” 

You immediately shake your head, continuing as he connects with your bare cunt, groaning when he realises you’ve been walking around wearing nothing underneath. “With a chance of rain…” You clear your throat, biting hard on your bottom lip when his finger brushes against your soft, glistening cunt. A squeal escapes you when you are suddenly bent forward, your chest flush against the cold table, nipples hardening and slick gathers between your thighs. “W–what, what are you doing, Mr Levinson?” You whimper, feeling him grind into you.

“Shh, sweetness. This is what’s so special about this one. You should’ve known that I wouldn’t let someone like you slip from my grasp. I had to have you, and so do my friends.” He leans over you, your body practically disappearing with his large build, and Ari looks directly into the camera. “Say hi to them sweetness.” His other hand slides up and tightens around your throat, squeezing when you don’t obey. “I said, say hi to them. Don’t be a disobedient slut.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, a whine passing your lips as he continues to rub your swollen clit. “H–hi, Mr Levinson’s friends!” Your mind felt cloudy, never having felt this much pleasure before. “W–what are you going to do, Mr Levinson?” Your arse pushes back against him as his fingers slip into your hole, pumping fast and hard, curling them into that sweet spot you’ve never been able to reach. 

“Call me Daddy, sweetness, and don’t even worry your pretty little head about what I’m going to do.” His cock throbs in his slacks, hardening and straining against the material. Ari presses harder against you, fucking you with his fingers and groaning as you tighten around them. You whine as Ari pulls his fingers out of you, and your orgasm which had been close to the edge, fades away. “You don’t get to cum, sweetness, unless it’s around my cock. You wanna cum on Daddy’s cock?” 

You nod rapidly, grinding yourself against him, wanting him buried deep inside of you. “Yes! Please, Daddy, I wanna cum on your cock!” You gasp as his hand moves from your throat, his thumb rests on your plump bottom lip and a groan slips from Ari as you immediately wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking and licking, eyes dazed as his taste fills your mouth. 

Ari lifts the fingers that were inside you to his face and sticks them into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you. “Taste so good, sweetness. I can’t wait to be buried between these thighs.” He reaches down, slowly pulling out his thickened cock, smirking as you whine and wiggle in anticipation. “But, I won’t today. I’ll save that for another day. For now, sweetness. You need to be patient, I’ll fuck you in a second.” He growls, smacking your arse, and his cock twitches as he watches it jiggle. 

“P–please, Daddy! I’ll be good, please fuck me!” You whimper, pushing your arse against his throbbing cock, and your skirt now rests above your hips. Ari slowly strokes his cock, tapping his leaking tip against your glistening folds, rubbing it through until his head gets caught on your entrance. 

“It’s okay, sweetness. Daddy will fuck you now.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head and a strained moan escapes you when he begins to push in, stretching your walls. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, sweetness. I’m never letting you go after this, oh– You’re squeezing my cock so well.” Ari grunts, thrusting fully into your cunt, gripping your hips as he begins to fuck you hard and fast, becoming feral the more his cock drives into you. “Feel good, sweetness?” 

“Uh huh, uh huh! So good, so full!” You scream, gripping the table as your body moves up and down with each thrust. “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” Your moans echo throughout the room, your walls tighten around his thick member, and for the first time in your life, your toes curl. The men watching groan, pants tightened as their cocks strain against them. Your knuckles grow white as you grip harder, feeling your walls pulsate around Ari.

“Jesus, fuck! Sweetness, if you continue to squeeze me like that, I’ll finish inside you.” Ari groans as you squeeze him tighter at his words, the thought of him pumping you full causes your whole body to go crazy. “You’re such a slut, sweetness. Your first day on the job and you are already sleeping with your boss while his friends watch. You know how much of a whore that makes you? I bet you want them to be here, passing you around and using you.” You let out a pornographic moan at the thought, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as his cock begins to pound into your sweet spot. 

“Daddy, I’m cumming! Please let me cum! Can I cum, please?!” You cry out, thrusting your hips back against him, wanting to feel him deeper. Your head feels fuzzy, eyes cloudy and the core inside of you tightens. “Please, please!” 

Ari grips your hips tightly, pounding faster and harder, feeling his orgasm approaching rapidly. “Cum for me, sweetness. Milk my cock.” He growls in your ear as he leans forward, fucking you deeper. “C’mon be a good girl and show my friends how well you obey orders.” Your mouth falls open into a silent scream, your walls pulsate like crazy and your juices squirt out of you, coating Ari’s cock with white cream. You sigh, planting your face onto the table as he continues to fuck you. “Fuck, that was so fucking hot, sweetness!” 

Ari holds you tighter, hard enough to leave bruises on your soft flesh. “I’m going to pump you full, sweetness, and then carry you home to my friends so they can all have a turn with your sweet body.” He whispers into your ear, grunting as he feels his balls tighten, cock twitching and throbbing before thick spurts of cum shoot out of his thick mushroom tip and into you, filling you to the brim, coating your walls. “Jesus, you feel so good, sweetness. Let’s see how pretty your cunt looks filled with my cum.” Ari groans and you whine as he slowly pulls his softened cock out of your used hole, and squats down. “Oh, sweetness. She’s so beautiful!” 

You whimper as his finger connects with your puffy clit, rubbing it gently before he moves down and spreads your lips apart. A groan slips from his lips as he watches his cum slowly begin to leak out of your hole. You gasp as Ari slowly pushes a finger into your hole, pushing his cum back into you, deeper. “You know what the best part of this will be, sweetness?”

You hum, too fucked out to understand. “The fact that you aren’t wearing any knickers, means you’ll be walking out of here with my cum dripping down your thigh.” You let out a little whine, wiggling against him as he continues to finger his cum back into you. Ari stands, straightening his back as he tucks himself back into his slacks and ensures his suit looks perfect. “I hope you had a good show, boys. Now, sweetness. Let’s get you dressed so that I can introduce you to my friends.” 

“I’m so tired…” You mumble, nuzzling your face into his neck when he stands you up and spins you around, giving everyone a view of your arse before Jake turns the camera off. Ari grins, pulling your skirt down gently to cover your gorgeous legs. One hand rests on your hip while the other comes up and fixes your shirt. You slowly pull away from his neck and blink tiredly up at him, feeling all tingly and sore between your legs, having never taken someone so large before. “So pretty.” 

Ari smiles, tucking a strand of hair that’s come loose behind your ear. “Thank you, sweetness. You’re the most beautiful woman that’s walked this Earth.” His eyes fall to your plump lips, wondering what it would feel like to feel them against his. This man had taken you, yet not once had he stolen a kiss. Your eyes follow suit, flickering down to his lips, willing him to kiss you. A gasp leaves your lips when Ari leans down, holding your chin between his thumb and finger and kisses you, swallowing the soft sounds that escape you. Your hands clutch onto his suit jacket, holding him close to you as your lips move in unison, his taste is so delicious and magical.

You whimper when he pulls away, his and your eyes flutter open and you stare at each other for a short while before you stumble, your mind cloudy from the kiss and legs feel like jelly and Ari smirks. “Why don’t I carry you out, sweetness? It looks like I did a good job, just wait until you get to my house.” You whine at the thought of being filled by multiple different cocks. Ari leans slightly and grabs your thighs, he lifts you and wraps your legs around his hips. “Are you ready, sweetness?”

You nod, nuzzling into him more. “I’m ready.” 

With those words, you are off. He carries you out to your new future, one where you will no longer have to work and be worshipped by many men. Fate had a funny way of getting you to meet your soulmates, and a certain cameraman by the name of Jake Jensen was known as a geek, being smart enough to know everything about tech. Except today, he had been so invested in you and your beauty that he didn’t notice he accidentally switched the live recording to broadcast to the world instead of just his buddies.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[hellodropbear]

it's time. (III)

mapi leon x ingrid engen x daughter

part I here and part II here

~~~~~~

The preseason is long. Everybody knows that. When it first starts, everyone is excited. Relaxed, refreshed, ready to start again. By the time it ends, everyone is sick of each other, ready and waiting for the less intensive training schedule that comes with the busy season. 

They'd rather play two games a week with minimal training than endure full days of gruelling strength, fitness and technical exercises in the hot Spanish sun. 

The nerves and anticipation started to grow around two weeks ago when Jonatan first mentioned some film work and specific analyses of particular players from Valencia, and they had only grown and grown, the excitement and nerves a complicated mix in the dressing room. 

Even Isabel had noticed a difference, her mother more nervous than most, wanting to prove herself again to silence the storm that began to rain down on them as her interview with Alexia was released almost two weeks ago. 

The responses had been overwhelming and Mapi found herself even more stressed at the prospect of all those eyes on her, trying to decide whether or not she was good enough to be in the selective squad after so much time away. 

The centre back had been all over the place and she would find herself in tears as she scrolled and scrolled on twitter, on instagram. On all the platforms that they had explicitly told her not to open, the platforms that would always produce the most hatred. 

It was Ingrid who found out about it, knocking on Mapi's door for the third time that week, completely surprised at the tear stained face and red, puffy eyes that greeted her with a weak smile. 

Her first thought, a naive one, was that something was wrong with Isabel, unaware that she was perfectly content, tucked away and asleep in her cot. 

But it didn't take long for the Norwegian to realise that if it was Isabel, Mapi would have done something, she would be somewhere or the child would be curled up in her mother's arms, crying softly as Ingrid had seen so many times before. 

"Mapi, what's wrong?"

Her words were soft, the exact level of softness that the Spaniard had been craving all night. 

But, as usual, she refused to admit that the Norwegian was providing her with what she needed. It couldn't be that simple. Ingrid wasn't her girlfriend, she couldn't just rely on her like that.

Instead, she shook her head, turning around and walking away. She left the door open though, so Ingrid knew she could follow her into the messy apartment. 

Her heart dropped and her eyes widened as she took in the messy array of clothes, toys and shoes strewn all over the floor, the complete antithesis of what the apartment was when she last visited, only two days ago. 

"Sorry for the... mess." Mapi couldn't look her in the eye, too ashamed of how quickly everything had gone downhill. 

It meant she didn't see the brunette shaking her head, brushing off the apology. 

"Isabel is down for her nap, I just had... a moment of weakness." She chuckled dryly. "I'll gather myself in just a minute."

"Mapi..."

Ingrid's voice was so soft, so full of care and worry that the Spaniard practically recoiled, flinching at the calmness. 

She shook her head though, refusing to accept any of the help or care that may have been on offer. 

"No, no. Just give me a minute." She stabilised herself on the back of a chair, moving to fill up a glass of water and promptly chugging it, sighing deeply once it was all gone. 

Ingrid shook her head, moving into the lounge and picking up some of the toys that she knew to go in the chest on the right, the shoes that lived on the rack and the clothes she could tell were dirty to go in the laundry hamper in the corner of the room. 

"You don't have to clean up after me." Mapi stood in the kitchen, staring out at where the Norwegian moved quickly and quietly. "It's my fault I've become a slob."

Ingrid's head whipped up at her words, shaking her head quickly. 

"You're not a slob, Mapi. It's just some clothes and some toys. You have a baby daughter, you're allowed to have a mess."

The Spaniard sighed. 

"I can't use her as an excuse." 

As if on cue, the baby monitor went off, the familiar babbling filling the room. Mapi sighed exhaustedly, switching it off and walking in the direction of the nursery. 

"Um... you don't have to clean up, you don't have to stay. It's too early for her to be up so I might be a while trying to get her back to sleep." Mapi knew she wasn't going to be getting her daughter back to sleep until the night fell. 

It was another downside of her growing up. She was almost 15 months old, which meant less sleeping in the day and more sleeping at night. 

And Mapi didn't know what to do, because those two hour daytime naps gave her the time to sort herself out, to do the chores, to rest, to relax. 

Things that weren't possible with an excited toddler rushing around and requiring her full attention. 

"Hey my Is." Her voice was weak as she sat down beside the cot, sticking her fingers through the bars as the child giggled and played with them. 

"Mami!" 

"Aren't you tired, my lion?" She smiled gently at the child who didn't fail to notice the puffiness of her mother's eyes, the tears that had stained her cheeks. She frowned, trying to reach for Mapi's face.  

She was incredibly perceptive, for a child so young. She noticed when her mother was sad or anxious and while she couldn't say anything, she would be extra clingy, with hugs and kisses to try and make her feel better. 

Maybe it was more intuition than perception, but nonetheless, Mapi was grateful for the little face that lit up her entire world. 

"No sleepy, Mami." She reached her arms upwards, prompting her mother to pick her up and take her out of the cot. 

Mapi smiled weakly, reluctantly obliging and pulling the girl into her arms before sitting back down in her spot on the floor, holding Isabel close.

"Hello Mami." She giggled, standing in Mapi's lap and wrapping her arms around her neck, planting a kiss on her cheek.

"Hello gorgeous girl." She let her daughter rest her small face in her neck, their arms wrapped around each other as Mapi let more tears roll down her face. 

Sometimes, Mapi didn't know where all the tears were coming from. She didn't always feel sad enough to cry, but they also weren't happy, like the tears she had cried after her first training. It was the emotion, she realised. There were so many different emotions that sometimes she was just so overcome by them all. The love she had for Isabel, the grief she was still experiencing, the fear that plagued her days, all carried on her shoulders like a bag of bricks. 

She didn't know how to release them, so she would carry them with her and experience minor breakdowns like these every once in a while. Usually triggered by something, but the anxieties were almost always softened by the small little face that would beam at her, kissing her on the cheek and hugging her closely. 

Because how could Mapi be sad when she had her adorable daughter right there with her?

She let herself cry on the floor of her daughter's room for a bit longer, before wiping her tears away, standing up and going back outside to the lounge room. 

She expected to see Ingrid sitting there on the couch waiting, she didn't think she would have left. The room was spotless though, a pile of clean clothes folded neatly on the end of the couch, everything else away and rearranged - exactly how it was before. 

What she didn't expect to see was the Norwegian scrolling through twitter on her phone that she had clearly left open on the kitchen table when she left to check on Isabel. 

The brunette looked up when she heard the footsteps, her eyes wide and nervous. Twitter was open, the distinctive black screen was easily recognisable, even from her distance. 

"You've been reading this stuff?" 

Her voice shook, and Mapi shrugged, nodding anxiously. 

"But why?"

The Spaniard took a deep breath, relishing in the comfort her child provided. 

"It's been a long month. I wanted to see if people actually wanted me to come back or if it was all just for nothing. Turns out they don't really care anymore."

Ingrid thought her heart may have split in two right then at how broken Mapi's voice sounded. 

It wasn't true, that they didn't care. So many people did, so many people were so excited for Barcelona to get their defender back, but of course the negative messages were the ones that Mapi would remember, the ones that she would think about as she tried to sleep at night. 

"They do care, Mapi." She breathed out lightly. "And if they don't, then who cares? It's your people that matter, not randoms on the internet who don't know the first thing about you."

And, for the third time that night, Mapi had cried. 

And Ingrid was right there, holding her as she sank to the floor, a very confused child in her arms. 

~~~~~~

It was the first game back. Mapi was terrified. 

She was starting, and Jonatan had told her that he would take her off at half time if she needed it, but they all hoped she would be able to play all the way through. 

Her daughter was fast asleep, her apartment was completely silent. But she was up, sat at her kitchen table and drinking a coffee having gotten out of bed at 6:30. Alexia was arriving at 7:30, and they would leave the apartment at 7:45 to get on the coach to Valencia. 

It was an away game, unfortunately, which meant they had to stay in Valencia overnight after their evening game. It was just another thing adding onto Mapi's long list of nerves, as she had never been away with Isabel and the toddler had never slept in one of the portable cribs that the club had purchased for this specific reason. 

It was when she was packing her daughter's bag that she heard the knock on the door, frowning as she looked at her watch and read 7:15. She knew it wouldn't be Alexia, she was almost always exactly on time. 

Mapi was not at all surprised when she saw the Norwegian standing outside, a large smile on her face. The antithesis to the Spaniard, really, clearly excited and rearing to go for her first ever game in blaugrana. 

"Isabel is still asleep and I want to keep her down for as long as possible because it's going to be a long day." Mapi whispered, allowing Ingrid to pull her into a hug. 

It was safe to say the two had grown... closer in the past few weeks, ever since that day Mapi had been found crying in her apartment. 

But if Mapi was honest, it was ever since their first walk together that they had become friends, and everyone could see how close they became almost immediately after meeting.

Maybe it was the daily walks with Isabel, maybe it was the carpooling to training or the endless coffee dates that were simply disguised as Mapi showing Ingrid around Barcelona, presenting her with the best places to see and the best coffees to drink. 

It was a mere coincidence that she was still saving the best till last, definitely not just so she had a reason to persuade the Norwegian to continue coming on the walks, going to the hole in the wall cafes. 

Although, if she really thought about it, Mapi would realise that Ingrid was staying for more than just new knowledge about her new city. 

Because she may have come for that, but she didn't need to stay at the coffee shops for so long, she didn't need to go on the long walks every day, playing with the small child for hours on end as she tired herself out.

She didn't need to invite the mother-daughter duo over for dinner under the false pretence that she wanted to improve her Spanish. It was clear to everyone but Mapi that she just wanted to spend more time with the two people she had grown so fond of. It was an added bonus that she could help Mapi out at the same time. 

She could sense Mapi's nerves as she stood outside the door, wrapping her arms around her and smiling. 

"It's going to go well, today. You have to know it."

She broke the hug and looked the Spaniard up and down. 

"It'll be good." It was a confirmation, and despite the lack of credibility, it made Mapi feel a whole lot better. 

"Thanks, Ingrid."

They moved away from the door and Ingrid placed her bag on the floor, moving to the kitchen table where the Spaniard had been half way through preparing some breakfast for the toddler to wake up to, as well as a few snacks for throughout the day. 

"They said they'd cater for her at meal times but she eats smaller meals and has snacks too. I just thought it was best to be prepared." Mapi seemed anxious as she explained her decision making to Ingrid, and the Norwegian knew how nervous she was about the whole away trip. Both the idea of playing again and also how her daughter would manage the change in environment without her mother right there at all times for the comfort she might need.  

"I can finish this up, you go sort yourself out and then you can relax. You seem tired, Mapi, and it's only quarter past seven."

"I'm fine, really. Thank you, Ingrid, thanks so much."

She rolled her eyes, smiling softly. 

"Stop thanking me! Now just go, I'm all good in here."

Mapi smiled, blushing furiously and rushing out of the kitchen and into her own room, quickly gathering up the things she needed for the next 24 hours, finding her training gear and having a record fast shower, changing and re-emerging right in time to wake up Isabel. 

She opened the door as softly as she could, creeping towards the crib, reaching in and picking up the baby who stirred softly at the sudden movement. 

"Hey my lion cub." She tickled her chest lightly, easily waking her up. "Good morning gorgeous."

"Mami?" Still groggy, the baby reached her arms up, grabbing at her mothers skin. 

"It's wake up time now, Is."

Slowly waking up, the baby stretched and yawned, settling easily in Mapi's arms, her head resting in her neck. 

"She's still tired." Mapi smiled at Ingrid, wandering into the kitchen. 

"Her breakfast is all done."

"Thank you, Ingrid. Alexia will be here soon as well. Do you want to carpool with us?"

Ingrid nodded easily. 

"That'd be great. Thanks."

She placed her sleepy daughter in the high chair, sitting right beside her as she became more awake and alert. Alexia knocked on the door as she was feeding Isabel, who still hadn't kept her eyes open for long enough to realise that Ingrid was even in their kitchen. 

"Morning!" The captain was characteristically chipper, moving quickly to sit beside her best friend and niece, ruffling the curly head of hair on the child and planting a kiss on her head. 

"And hello my baby Isabel."

"Ale?" She was still confused, apparently, only realising it was Alexia when her face was directly in her line of vision. 

"She's only just woken up." Mapi smiled softly, finishing up with Isabel's bowl of scrambled eggs. 

"She'll probably fall straight asleep again as soon as I put her down in her carseat." She rolled her eyes, wiping the mess from Isabel's face and picking her up and out of the chair.

It seemed, however, that the baby had woken up enough to recognise that her mother's arms were not the ones she wanted to be held in, instead reaching out for the midfielder who had disappeared out of her eyesight. 

"Ale?"

Rolling her eyes, Mapi wordlessly handed off her child, instead picking up the bags she had left on the floor as her best friend cooed over the tired child. 

They were in the car not 5 minutes later and as predicted, Isabel was almost immediately fast asleep with Mapi's hand in her lap, a comforting warmth in the car seat. 

She didn't even stir as Mapi carried her from the car to the bus, Isabel's head rested on her shoulder as she gently lowered herself into the seat. 

They had about an hour and a half left of the journey when she woke up, shifting uncomfortably in Mapi's dead arms, receiving a kiss on her head before her mother spoke to her. 

"Hello there sleepyhead."

"Mami." She whispered quietly, her head poking out from it's place in Mapi's neck and observing her surroundings. 

"We're on a bus, Is. We're going to Valencia!"

She sighed sleepily, moving her body so she was sat down on her mother's lap rather than being held up in her arms. It seemed from her new spot she could see more people, instantly recognising the thick head of brown hair only two rows in front. 

"Ingrid?"

"She's just over there, sitting with Fridolina!"

Mapi smiled and pointed, but Isabel frowned, not understanding why the Norwegian wasn't with her and her mother like usual. 

She stood up in Mapi's lap, stabilised by her mother, and spoke louder to get Ingrid's attention. 

"Ingrid!" She tried a bit louder. "Ingrid!"

It was then that the Norwegian whipped her head around, making eye contact with Isabel and giving her a big smile. 

"Mami!" She sat back down, proud of herself for completing her mission, smiling at Mapi's soft laughter. 

They were both surprised when the midfielder sat down in the spare seat beside them though, Isabel practically throwing herself into Ingrid's arms. 

"Hello Isabel!" 

Ingrid's smile was infectious, and Mapi couldn't help but beam as her daughter looked up and greeted the Norwegian with a toothy grin on her face. 

~~~~~~

"So... what's the deal with you and Ingrid?"

Alexia had followed Mapi into her room, throwing herself on the centre back's bed. 

"There's no deal." She shrugged, passing her daughter over to Alexia and trying to figure out how to open the portable crib that had been left in the cupboard for her to use. 

Her back was facing the midfielder, so she didn't see the eye roll, nor hear the amused chuckle. 

"Is she just a good cook then?"

Mapi was still struggling with the cot, so she didn't really think about Alexia's words before responding. 

"No- what?" She was exasperated, it was evident in her voice and in the way she spun around with a frown on her face. 

"She just-" Mapi's eyes fell to the floor almost embarrassed as she continued. "She wants to improve her Spanish."

Alexia stopped herself from laughing. 

"So you speak Spanish with her when she has you over for dinner?"

The centre back's cheeks flushed red very quickly as she responded. 

"Well, not exactly. Sometimes I'll say some Spanish words, but it's easier to communicate in English."

This time, Alexia didn't stop herself from laughing and Mapi glared at the sound. 

"No, no. I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh." She gathered herself, only slightly, before continuing. "But Mapi, is it not obvious? She goes on your walks, you've taken her to pretty much every coffee shop in Barcelona. She invites you for dinner and even your daughter loves her."

Mapi looked at her in confusion. 

"How do you know all this?"

"Frido talks."

She rolled her eyes, giving up on the cot and sighing, flopping down onto the bed.

"She's a good friend, and it's convenient that she lives just downstairs. But Ale, don't turn this into something it's not, please. I don't have time to be dating, you know this, we've been through this and you even agreed with me!"

Alexia sighed softly, disappointed because it was true. Back when Isabel was 6 months old and Mapi was in the worst spot she'd ever seen her in. They'd been discussing dating and Mapi had confessed that she felt too busy, that she'd feel guilty to Luis if she started putting attention on a girlfriend more than her daughter. 

Although certain that wouldn't happen, Alexia had reluctantly agreed, promising that she would support Mapi through any decision she wanted to make, through any situation she had to go through. 

Now, though, that reluctant agreement had come back to bite her because Mapi now is so different to that Mapi from eight months ago. This Mapi was like the Mapi from before, only stronger, more emotional. A better person, Alexia would say, but that was just her own opinion. 

"That conversation happened months ago, Mapi. It's different now, you're not just rotting on your sofa like before."

The centre back thought briefly about the incident a couple weeks ago, when Ingrid found her in a disgusting apartment, tears in her eyes as she slowly turned into a slob. The thought alone was embarrassing so she banished it from her mind for the time being. 

"Alexia, I just... I can't. She's a really nice person, she's gorgeous too but any person with eyes would say that. I need to have my full focus on Isabel and relationships go two ways. Yes, I'd get support from her, but I also would need to support her because she has her own baggage too. She's just moved countries again and doesn't know Spanish, has no friends here other than Frido. I don't have time for it all, I can't lose focus of what's important."

Her eyes brimmed with tears but she used her hand to harshly brush them away. 

"I understand and I respect what you're saying, but you need to talk to her, because you can't lead her on. You don't know what she's thinking."

Except she did, everyone did. 

Everyone knew Ingrid liked Mapi. Everyone knew Mapi liked Ingrid. 

"I will at some point." Mapi reached over and plucked her daughter from Alexia's arms, basking in the comfort that the toddler easily provided her with. 

"Good, and I will fix your crib for you because I'm sure it's not that hard." She rolled her eyes, standing up and walking to the crib, propping it up almost immediately. 

Mapi scoffed, rolling her eyes. 

"Adopt her then, if you're so good at it."

~~~~~~

Isabel was with Camila, in a back room with her toys and snacks, easily entertained and distracted from the absence of her mother. 

Her mother was in the tunnel, her stomach churning uncontrollably as she lined up for the first time, not ready to run out there once again. 

There were so many things that could go right, but all Mapi was concerned about was what could go wrong. How this could go wrong, what the repercussions would be.

But sooner than she would have liked, it was time. 

She was walking out, an unfamiliar child's hand in hers. She was lining up, looking out at the crown that was mostly filled with Valencia fans.

She was shaking the hands of all the Valencia players, recognising the shock in some of their faces that she was right there, in the flesh. All fit, returned to play. 

She was lining up in the group photo, an anxious smile covering her face. 

She was being hugged by Alexia who wished her the most  luck in a covered up whisper, reminding her how proud she was of her. 

She was in the huddle, words from the captains going in one ear and right out the other as she thought exclusively about all the possible outcomes of the next 90 minutes. 

She was jogging over to her starting position, doing a few last minute stretches before she waited for kick off. 

She watched the coin toss, she watched as everyone else took their positions. 

The game kicked off, and she was running. 

She touched the ball for the first time, and it was like magic. 

Suddenly, she didn't feel so disconnected from the game, finally focusing in on her technique, the tactics that she knew like the back of her hand. 

And just like that, Mapi felt alive. Out there on the field, running around to her heart's content, blocking shots, pulling dangerous slide tackles. Adrenaline pumping through her, only spurred on by the overwhelming cheers from the crowd, she felt like she could do anything. 

It was like that first day back at training again, except she felt 100 times better because the weight of nerves that she had been carrying for this day had finally been lifted off her shoulders. She felt like she could finally breathe, she wasn't so trapped inside her own body. 

She was proving so many people wrong but more importantly, she was proving herself wrong. She realised that she could do this, that she had done it. 

What so many people had said was impossible, something that barely any people had expected to happen. She had returned to her sport, almost two years off. A baby and enough heartbreak for a lifetime later and she was back. 

On a high, some may say, all through the first half.

The dressing room was a rave at half time, relieved at the positive score, but thrilled about how well Mapi's return was going. 

The energy was high as they ran back out, and their joy was reflected in the dominant scoreline at the end of the match. 

Alexia almost bowled Mapi over with the weight of her hug at the final whistle, and Mapi laughed as she was lifted and spun around. 

It was a perfect game, a scoreline of 6-0. Mapi had been instrumental in the win and it emphasised just how important she was to this team. 

Pride exuded from the captain, having been there throughout the whole journey. Mapi's support, her rock through everything and the centre back felt content, finally, in her embrace. 

It was then that they both realised she had done it; she had achieved something that she didn't even consider being a possibility 14 months ago. 

The whole team was full of congratulations for the centre back, hugs and back claps, smiles and encouraging words and Mapi was completely and utterly basking in it. 

Her mind was full of thoughts, finally in touch with her emotions. 

She thought of her daughter, relaxed and happy with Camila. 

She thought of Luis, and hoped that he would be proud of her. 

She thought of her parents who were watching from Zaragoza, making a mental note to call them when she was alone in her room with Isabel. 

She didn't have to think of Alexia, who was practically glued to her side, a giddy smile on her face. 

But when she thought of Ingrid, she felt nothing but guilt. 

Because Alexia was right, she had been leading her on. The walks, the coffee shops, the dinners. They were dates, there was no other way to define them. 

And she couldn't do that to her, she couldn't do that to the person who had become such a huge support in her life. 

So when she was hugged by Ingrid, she didn't say much. Listening as the Norwegian congratulated her, smiling in appreciation. She hoped that Ingrid understood how grateful she was. 

It took maybe 10 minutes for the centre back to figure out what she wanted to say and how she wanted to say it. 

In hindsight, she probably should have thought about it longer. She definitely shouldn't have acted on the thoughts that came with her post match high. 

Because the look on Ingrid's face as she walked away was something Mapi would never forget, etched in her brain for the rest of time. 

"You've been so good to me, Ingrid, and I'm so grateful. But I'm sorry, I can't do this. I can't have a girlfriend."

She had walked away without giving Ingrid the time to speak, leaving her dumbfounded and frozen on the spot. 

And Mapi was full of regret, having quickly plummeted from her high as she walked back into the tunnel, Alexia's arm wrapped around her shoulder. 

But everything was so much better when she finally got to pick up her daughter, holding her close and smothering her entire head with kisses. 

Because everything she does is for Isabel. 

Isabel comes first. Always.

~~~~~~

ok i think there will either be one or two more chapters of this story but if you me want to i will write like oneshot type things if i get sent requests or if i get my own inspo

i already have one of the future when isabel is at the olympics (nobody has guessed her sport yet. hint: it's not football or any other team sport) and i have received a few requests that i've started the planning phase for and then they'll be written and edited at some point

but yeah, feel free to send anything, can be in the future or the past or the present. i have a vague idea of how her life will go so i'll adapt requests to suit that but i love hearing from you guys so please don't be shy to send anything in!!!

(please send me requests because I love writing about soft Mapi with a daughter)

thanks for reading and have a good day :)

[taylor-titmouse]

so we know that gender for dwarves is mainly divided between rock and jewel (for the sake of keeping it simple to explain. there are definitely genders outside that binary) and that rocks map closer to masculine, and that jewels map closer to feminine, but it has nothing at all to do with genitals and everything to do with presentation. in dwarven terms, tourmaline and angre are both crafters, in that they're capable of childbirth, but this is considered a sort of natural skill rather than tied to their value. outside of the aristocracy and royal lines and half-things, dwarves do not generally care about bloodlines. children are raised by the community. you keep track of your crafter and getter for the sake of good health, but outside of that, it's not a big deal what you have down there.

of course tourmaline and angre are both exceptions to the bloodline concern, given she's royalty and he's half human. but this post is for dissecting presentation, rather than social dynamics.

TOURMALINE AS A ROCK

so the richer you are, the more you want to show that off. we know that having smooth skin is indicative of free time/money to spend on achieving it. that doesn't change for rocks. the one difference is that rich rocks (and sometimes jewels!) may, instead of shaving their faces, engage in elaborate beard braiding and decoration. this is more common among the older generations, who by the time they reach those ages, are either too wrinkled or simply too tired of dealing with shaving and wax. tourmaline, being a strapping young stone, would shave completely. long hair would also still be considered the fashion for a young rock of his station. however, luxurious thickness is for jewels. a tight, sober braid is preferred for rocks for everyday wear. he also doesn't wear makeup. makeup is entirely the realm of jewels. foundation to hide blemishes at the very most, but otherwise it is not expected of him.

gemstones are incredibly important to dwarves, with a lot of coding regarding how much you can wear and what styles/stones you can wear. as a jewel, tourmaline would be expected to wear a Lot. earrings, hairpieces, bracelets, anklets, everything and anything. rocks are a bit more limited, because the presentation is about strength and steadfastness rather than beauty... but if you're rich, you still have to show it. so in practice, rich rocks and jewels can both be totally decked out, but rocks will favor chunkier, less delicate pieces. notably: rocks will also have more piercings than jewels, because it signals toughness against pain. thus, rock tourmaline has pierced his nipples and belly button. and of course he's not covering his chest to show that off (and wearing anything heavy would be uncomfortable)

the slitted trousers are of course to show off the hot smooth leg. it would be perfectly acceptable for him to wear a skirt or skirt-like piece, but for the sake of making him more readably masculine, he gets pants. his shoes would also have a slight heel or platform to them. there's a sweet spot of height that dwarves find attractive, and he's otherwise fairly average/short. angre would be just on the upper edge of it.

ANGRE AS A JEWEL

so while rock tourmaline is fairly unchanged, angre as a jewel would be a very different person with a very different life path. as a jewel, she cannot become a knight or soldier. she can be taught self defense and how to wield a weapon, but being employed in the defense of another is Not Done with jewels. remember: this has nothing to do with childcraft, entirely with presentation. if she wanted to become a knight, she would have to transition to rock, which isn't an uncommon occurrence. switching genders based on occupation is very normal. but then we'd just have original flavor angre. so this is an angre who took a different path.

this angre would be a lady in waiting, and, if we want to give her the equivalent job to captain of the guard, she would be tourmaline's royal barber. she would be in charge of the care and keeping of his body, a role that requires significant training and trust. she would have command over a team, but she would be the only one permitted to touch and tend to his neck, and would be a close confidante.

as for her presentation, she would be considered a very conservative jewel. nothing in her hair (which she wears long) and very few actual gemstones in her jewelry. this is partially about expectation--she is a commoner, and it would be very inappropriate for her to be ostentatious in the service of royals--but it would also be her own choice. she does not want to be attractive to the young prince [undecided on the actual term]. rock angre did not want to be perceived as a sexual threat to jewel tourmaline, and so jewel angre would not want to be perceived as a sexual option (but would be just as in love with him). so she wears simple patterns, little jewelry, and very light makeup. showing skin is something she can't really avoid, because it also represents her work. you wouldn't really trust a barber if they had a bad haircut.

phew. that's a lot.

[peterparkouryo]

fell from the sky into my lap | ⍣ ೋ

⍣ ೋ

prompt; You encounter a very charming boy on the train.

warning: fluff, fluff, and did i mention fluff?

word count: 1.5k

a/n: meet cute!! i missed writing <3 (also ignore the fact that i used this gif once b4, feel free to send me tom gifs for future fics 😭)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist

You step out of Midtown High, the warm afternoon sun casting long shadows across the pavement. You had decided to stay after school, opting to have a small study session with a few of your friends for an upcoming test for the gruesome mathematics class, also known as calculus. The weight of your backpack pulls slightly at your shoulders as you make your way down the stairs of the school building, balmy wind blusters against your skin. Descending down the stairs finally, you keep your head down and walk across the football field, creating a safe distance between you and the ongoing practice taking place. 

What seemed forever, but in reality was maybe a good two to three minute walk off the school grounds, you head toward the train station. The familiar hum of chatter and the rhythmic clack of shoes on the sidewalk fill the air, blending into a comforting soundtrack of the end of the school day.

As you approach the station, the distant sound of a train horn echoes, signalling its arrival. Just in time, you thought to yourself. You quicken your pace, the excitement of heading home, mixed with the anticipation of the journey itself, propelling you forward. The station is a bustling hub of activity, with students, commuters, and travelers weaving in and out of the crowd.

You swipe your transit card at the turnstile, the beep granting you passage onto the platform. The cool, metallic scent of the train station mingles with the faint aroma of fresh coffee from the nearby café. You glance up at the electronic display board, noting the arrival time of your train. It's right on schedule.

The train glides into the station with a soft hiss of brakes and a rush of wind. The doors slide open, inviting you inside. You step onto the train, the cool air conditioning a welcome relief from the warmth outside. You find a seat by the window and settle in, reaching into your backpack and digging through to find your wired headphones, despite begging your parents for regular ones.

You open your phone, clicking the green app for music, scrolling through many playlists you've obsessively created for various different scenarios. Picking a playlist you don't remember creating, you let out a tired yawn and sit back, wandering your eyes to the left, and daydreaming  about your bed. 

The train ride was relatively quiet, aside from a crying baby (not that you could hear it, but breaking your daydream to observe your surroundings, you could see a crying baby), and the loud music blasting in your ears. 

For the next six minutes, the music from your headphones consumed your ears, guaranteed to worsen your hearing in the next twenty years or so. You were at an unusual ease you normally don't feel when you're alone on a train by yourself. It could do with the fact that there was maybe five or six people onboard, you weren't too sure.

You lay your head back against the seat and stare out the window, the passing buildings rapidly leaving your vision. A bored sigh leaves your lips, the spotify ad only adding onto the exhaustion you felt. 

The train stops, indicating people were either leaving or stepping on the train, and you tear your gaze away from the window out of curiosity, watching a couple people swipe their transit cards. You notice the last person, a boy with hair as brown as a bear, swipe his card more than once, and you can only assume something was wrong.

The more you watch the boy struggle, the more you feel bad because not only was the operator getting impatient, the passengers moan and groan as well. Slowly you dig into your pocket for your card, standing up and swiftly walking to the front of the train. Showing the boy a friendly smile, you glance at the operator, who's eyebrows were furrowed and a permanent frown carved onto his face.

"Um, he can use my card." You say unsurely, not entirely positive thats even how transit cards work.

The man narrows his eyes and stares between you and the boy for a good while before he exhales a huff.

"Go ahead, you're holding up my line." He mumbles and you furrow your eyebrows and glance behind you, seeing that it was only the boy and no one else, but you decide not to say anything about it.

You swipe the transit card, watching the red dot change to green, and the boy sighs in relief.

"Thank you." He says, watching your every move as you put your card back into your pocket.

You nod and your eyes drift to his face, studying him carefully, because boy, he was gorgeous. The boy had eyes just as brown as his hair, maybe even a little lighter with the golden specks straggling within them. If anyone was lucky (such as yourself) to stand so close to him, one might be able to see the small barely visible, but undeniably delightful freckles scattered across his nose.

Your eyes trail down to his lips, but not in a weird way, the small smile etched on his face captivated you and deep in your stomach, you swore you felt butterflies erupt. The smile was warm and inviting, and one of his most endearing features, capable of lighting up his entire face. It gave him a friendly, yet approachable demeanour. 

He was the kind of person who had the-boy-next-door kind of vibe, and you can't help but gaze longer than intended, making him uncomfortable in a way you had no intentions of doing.

So, you clear your throat, and quickly look at your shoes. 

"Its no problem." You mutter.

There's a standstill silence between the two of you, the murmur of passengers, the rustling of bags and the occasional ring of a phone not helping the awkwardness you felt whatsoever.

Eventually, the boy shows you yet another charming smile, walking past you to sit in a nearby seat. You return to yours and try your hardest not to stare at the boy diagonally across from you.

There's a standstill silence between the two of you, the murmur of passengers, the rustling of bags and the occasional ring of a phone not helping the awkwardness you felt whatsoever.

Eventually, the boy shows you yet another charming smile, walking past you to sit in a nearby seat. You return to yours and try your hardest not to stare at the boy diagonally across from you.

That challenge, however quickly crashes when you glance at him only to see him gazing back, in a way that wasn't entirely creepy, but cumbersome for the both of you. You do your best to show him a smile, cringing slightly when you realize its more of a nervous grimace than what you intended.

Though, he shows no signs of being weirded out by your so called "smile", he waves as you wave back. A rush of warmth and pleasantry overtakes you when he looks away. You'd think this is the first time any boy has ever showed you this much attention, no matter how little it might have been.

Minutes pass in a blur as the train carries you forward, each moment seamlessly blending into the next. Ultimately, you reach your stop and you gather your things, albeit a bit reluctantly. As you leave, you bite your lower lip and share a scrutiny when you walk past him, making your exit off the train.

While you step off the train, and make it your mission to ascend up the stairs, a hand purchases on your shoulder causing you to flinch fearfully, many thoughts running through your head as you make the stupid decision to turn around to face the culprit.

 All fears subside once you meet the familiar chestnut brown eyes of the boy from the train.

He realizes your initial fear and holds up your tangled headphones. "You left these on the train." He blinks.

"Thank you." You obligate, retrieving the headphones from his hand.

The boy nods and buries his hands in his pocket, unwieldy looking around.

You tilt your head as a thought comes about.

"Is this your stop?" You wonder.

He breaks his train of thought and stares right at you before laughing awkwardly. "Um, no my stop was actually three more blocks away." He informs and guilt fills you at that information.

"Oh, I'm sorry," You apologize, frowning.

He shakes his head quickly. 

"No, its fine I was just going to stop at Delmar's anyway." He reassures and smiles, holding out his hand.

"Also, I'm Peter by the way, Peter Parker." 

You return the smile and shake Peter's hand at his dorky introduction, speaking your name in greeting.

"I know, we share a gym class." Peter says.

You blink at the revelation, having no idea he even went to Midtown. Small world, you think.

"Anyway, is it okay if I walk you up the stairs, in a non weird way that seems creepy." Peter offers shyly, interrupting the barely there silence. There was something about his adorably dunce proposal that made you appreciate him despite only knowing the boy for ten minutes at most.

"Sure." You agree all too eagerly.

With new found courage, you and Peter make your way up the stairs of the train station and you're greeted with the bustling New York city, of what you can only describe as chaotic, honking cars and fellow civilians either on their arguing or arguing on their phones.

You felt excited to be walking next to Peter, no matter how small your interactions have been or how little you two new each other, you were grateful for his presence.

Grateful that you decided to take the train. Had you would've walked, only god knows what could've happened, the foreign feeling of butterflies in your stomach would not had been, that's for certain.

taglist: @victoriousskylar @imawhoreforu @myfangirlinessononeblog

shoutout to the divider account: @saradika-graphics

[chososdiscordkitten]

Obsessive!Choso♡

Obsessive!Choso who swore his obsession for you was just a small crush. Defending his actions to nobody but himself, assuring himself that his excessive staring was fine, it's not like it hurt you, right? Only ever watching you from a distance, at least 4 rows of students between you and the gaze that never left you. Doubting himself anytime he thought of complimenting you on his way out of class. Opening his mouth to speak as you walked passed by him, but no words leaving his lips. Wanting to ask you for your social media, even if he had already found them. Knowing that if he did, you'd at least have to acknowledge him. Even if you said no to him. 

Obsessive!Choso who watched the back of your head throughout the entire class, ignoring what the teacher projected onto the board. His eyes scan the side of your face when you'd turn it to look over at your friend. Smile creeping to his face when he sees your smile. Knowing that he'd have to retake this useless course again next semester. Secretly hoping that you'd have to retake it with him. Never spoke a word to you, but he knew that if you gave him the time of day, you'd see that he was the one for you. 

Obsessive!Choso who scrolls through your instagram nightly from a burner account. Watching your stories of you with your friends, seeing you post pictures of the food you ordered from a restaurant. Making a mental note that your plate had pieces of mushroom pushed to the side. Thinking how cute it was that you probably didn't like mushrooms. Smile on his lips whenever you post a screenshot of a song you'd be listening to, feeling his heart swell when he knew the song you were playing. And if he didn't recognize it, he'd listen to it. Studying the lyrics as though you had posted it just for him. 

Obsessive!Choso who purposefully asked for a different class midway through the semester, just to have a chance of having another class with you. Cursing the admins from the office when his request was denied. Feeling like he was too far away from you, sitting two rows closer. Choosing a seat that gave him a clear view of your papers, and your laptop while he watched. Seeing you doodle onto stray pieces of paper, small drawings that he wished you'd leave behind just for him. Being close enough for your friend to notice him staring, shoving their elbow into your arm and pointing their eyes to him. His heart dropped as you furrowed your eyebrows. Turning around to look at him. His lips parted when he felt your eyes on his face, seeing you give him a warm smile before turning around. Shoving your friend who was silently laughing, mumbling a quiet ‘shut up’ before looking back down at your paper.

Obsessive!Choso who knew he wasn't the kind of guy you typically go for, dark eyeshadow around his eyes. Heavy platform shoes that make him look taller and intimidating and heavily pierced ears. But seeing you smile at him anyway, before telling your friend to ‘shut up’ when they laughed at him. Made him think that maybe, just maybe he had a chance with you. 

Obsessive!Choso whose heart almost burst in anxiety when the TA announced that there'd be pairs for an upcoming project. Hearing that the pairings would be posted in the online classroom later tonight. Sitting in his bedroom, laptop on his thigh as he kept refreshing the page. Fingers crossed he'd finally have an excuse to speak to you. Mentally chanting ‘Please, please, please.’ as he refreshed once more, seeing the link to the list pop up. Scrolling down swiftly as his eyes skimmed the list. His heart practically broke when he read he was paired with someone else. His eyes almost tearing up when he saw that you were paired with the chick that was assigned to the seat next to him. Knowing that if the TA miss clicked by a few pixels, he'd be assigned to work with you. 

Obsessive!Choso who was over the moon when he received an email a week later that his assigned partner caught a vicious flu, and he had to be paired with someone else. Crossing his fingers when he heard that your assigned partner was out of town on a family emergency, hoping that the TA would tell him he was your new partner. Laying on his stomach as he refreshed the page, the new updated list almost made him kick his feet while trying not to giggle as he read his name next to yours. Knowing that the next time he'll see you, he would have to say something. 

Obsessive!Choso who got to class early and sat in his secluded seat, learning from his mistakes when he sat a little too closely to you. Earphone in his ear when he saw a shadow above his notebook. Looking up to see you, smiling at him before you introduced yourself. Your voice was full of confidence as he tried his hardest not to smile. “Could I sit?” you asked him, placing your hand onto the back of the rolling chair next to Choso. Seeing him let out a quiet 'mhm' before looking down to his shoes. Taking a seat and turning the chair to look at him, knowing there was a few more minutes before class, you asked him. “Are you busy later today?” he closed his eyes at hearing your sweet voice. He looked up to meet your eyes, before looking away again. “No, I'm not.” he croaked, you felt a chill run down your spine at how deep his voice was. “We could meet up at the library? We’re already so behind.” You laughed, seeing his eyes look anywhere but at you. Choso felt his heart skip a beat at hearing you refer to him and yourself as ‘we’. He murmured a low “Okay.” Before the doors to the classroom opened, the overworked TA walked in and set up at the front. “Kay, I'll see you around 5? Is that fine?” you asked, standing from the chair and looking down at him. Hearing a small ‘Mhm’ from him before you pushed the chair back to where it was. Walking down the steps of the classroom, down to your seat. Hearing your friend ask you what you were doing, “He's my new partner.” you whispered, sitting down as your friend made fun of you. Closing his eyes to restrain himself from cracking a smile. You defending him only fueled his delusions, making him think that you were taking a liking to him.

-

pt 2 here

mmmmmm I wrote this rq, I couldn't get it out of my head. obsessive crush to stalker pipeline coming up:D anddd I am trying to make shorter posts, pump out more content so my head isnt full all the time. 1k words at most. wrote this while listening to 'Vampire Empire- Big Thief'

[bunnylovesani]

Miss Congeniality

Chapter 5

Content warnings: p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), toxic ani, dom ani!sub reader, creampie, daddy kink, dirty talk, general smut

WC: 3.7k

The air is thick with smoke in the visibly unpoliced venue, filled with weed-smoking teenagers and middle-aged alcoholics. “What a charming audience.” You thought to yourself as you weaved through the sticky crowd to get a spot near the front.

You’d rummaged through your wardrobe to find something suitable for the boys’ rock concert but couldn’t find an article of clothing that wasn’t pink or frilly. Setting your sights on the metal band tee Ani gave you after hours of futile browsing, you settled on that along with some baggy black jeans you stole off Jaden. As you secured your spot in the front row, you lifted your jeans and checked on the pink Mary Jane heels you had on- you couldn’t find anyone to steal black shoes from but luckily the jeans swallowed them into obscurity.

All eyes turn to the front and conversations cease as the venue manager climbs up to the platform with a mic and announces tonight’s main act.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage- Dead Rebels!” Applause erupts as the lights dim and a group of 4 men approach the stage. Your eyes are instantly set on Anakin- who’s sporting a long-sleeved top, black and slightly see-through so that his nipple piercing glints in the low lights. He takes a seat behind the drums and scans the crowd, grinning mischievously when he locks eyes with you.

“Good luck.” You mouth to him and he winks back, before counting the band in and commencing the evening with their first song. You try to focus on the music, try to keep your eyes on your brother- who’s singing his heart out- but your eyes keep wandering over to Anakin; glowing with a thin sheen of sweat from the exertion of smashing the cymbals over and over again. Dirty thoughts creep into your mind as you shamelessly ogle his defined but lean arm muscles, gaze shifting from there to his beautifully concentrated face.

The only thing that draws your attention away from him is the persistent glare of the bassist, Max. The first time you met his gaze and you thought you saw a smile creep up on his face, you thought it might’ve been a coincidence- but after the second, third and fourth, you knew for sure: Max was into you.

With the last chord struck, the show was over and the audience began clearing the venue while you made your way backstage with the aid of a security guard. Rushing into their dressing room, you barged in to give Jaden and Anakin a hug.

“Oh my God guys, you were amazing! I never knew you had that kind of talent, I just always assumed band practice was code for getting high.” You joked, gushing about their performance.

“Thanks sis.” Jaden chuckled, hugging you back while Anakin awkwardly patted your back and withdrew. “And it was, but only half the time.”

“And the rest of you guys were fantastic too!” You pointed at the guitarist and bassist and they smiled humbly.

“Are you wearing my jeans?” Jaden remarked agitatedly.

“Maybe…come on Jay, I didn’t have anything to wear, I was only borrowing them!” You squeaked defensively.

“Ah whatever - wait a sec, is that Anakin’s tee?” He pointed at your skull-imprinted shirt and you looked to Ani before answering. “You need to give that back, it’s one thing to take my stuff but you can’t go around taking my friend’s clothes too!”

“Oh no, it’s okay, Ani g-“

“Yeah can I have that back please?” Anakin interrupted you.

Your heart dropped as you stared at him in dejected confusion, waiting to see if he was joking; when you saw that he wasn’t, a wave of rage overcame you and you started to pull the shirt over your head.

“I didn’t mean right here in front of everyone!” Jaden protested, jumping to cover you up.

“No no, I insist, don’t let me wear it for a second longer!” You ripped it off and threw it harshly at Anakin, leaving yourself exposed in a lace pink bra in front of the room, much to the chagrin of your brother and the shock of the bassist.

“Here, put this on.” Max scrambles over to hand you the hoodie he’s just taken off himself, putting it over your head and dressing you gently.

“Thank you Max, it’s nice to be around a gentleman for once.” You flash an exaggerated smile at him and shoot daggers at Anakin. “You have to come by at some point so you can pick it up.”

“Oh, yeah- give me your number and we can arrange something.” Max sees a window of opportunity open up and he takes it. “Maybe you can give it back to me after I’ve taken you out one time?”

“Sure. Give me your phone.” You flatly reply, punching your digits in while glaring at Anakin, who’s visibly seething but remains silent.

“Great, I’ll give you a call soon. Bye sweetheart.” Max chirps, kissing you on the cheek before heading out the door.

“I’m going home now.” You announce monotonously, now feeling the rage subdue and the misery kick in. Was he embarrassed to be associated with you? Or does he think what you two shared is so insignificant it’s not even worth mentioning?

“Wait, I’ll drive you.” Anakin reaches out to place his hand on your shoulder but you shake him off. “I’ll get a cab.”

2 days later, you received a call from an overly eager Max asking you on a date; you feigned enthusiasm convincingly when he revealed his plans to take you to dinner and ice skating. You knew this was the kind of guy you should be entertaining - someone who wasn’t ashamed to make his affection for you public knowledge- but great as he may be, he just wasn’t Anakin.

Nonetheless, you used this sham of a date as an excuse to go shopping and get your hair and nails done. Once you’d returned home, you tried on your prettiest dresses, settling on one that perfectly matched the shade of your glittering pink nails. Staring out the window, you applied another layer of lip gloss and anticipated Max’s imminent arrival.

Checking your phone, you knitted your brows together: he was meant to pick you up 20 minutes ago- and now he’s left you waiting without so much as a text. Guess he wasn’t much of a gentleman after all.

Just as you were about to give up and change into your pyjamas, you heard the crunching of gravel in the driveway. “It’s about damn time.” You thought as you packed your lip gloss into your bag, listening to the sound of footsteps thudding up the stairs.

“Rather presumptuous of you to come straight up to my room, don’t you think?” You reprimand him playfully when you hear the bedroom door swing open.

“Sorry, guess I’ve gotten too comfortable around here.” A familiar voice answers and you turn around so fast you get whiplash.

“Ani!” You’re filled with the urge to jump up and hug him, but the memory of his cowardice prevents you. “What are you doing here?” You fold your arms and turn your back to him. “I’m expecting someone.”

“No you’re not.” He states simply.

“What are you talking about? You need to leave, Max is going to be here any minute.”

“You’re not listening to me darling, no he’s not.”

“What did you do?” You roll your eyes at him, knowing he meddled in some way.

“Let’s just say you won’t be leaving the house anytime soon.” He approaches you and you’re powerless to move. “On account of that nasty accident you had.”

“B- but I wasn’t in an accident.” You stutter, body racked with intimidation.

“You would’ve been if you’d have gotten into that car with him.” He snarls into your ear and snakes his hand around your waist. “You really thought I was going to let you go out with that idiot? Have him try to make a move on you- when I know you were only doing it to make me jealous? You’re dumber than I thought, princess.”

“Did it work then?” You bat your eyelashes innocently but can’t stop the wild grin that overtakes your face.

“Oh, you are so bad.” He grabs you by the jaw and meets your lips, fueled with a fire unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

“No, stop.” You put your hand against his firm chest and push him away. “You really hurt me, you know. Why would you let Jaden think I stole your shirt?”

“Are you serious? Use your brain, sweetheart.” He scoffs and you scrunch your face up in disbelief.

“Stop being mean! I’m not dumb and I deserve better than this.” You back away and climb onto your bed, grabbing a nearby teddy bear plushie and embracing it tightly.

“Okay, okay- I’m sorry, princess.” He sighs and takes a seat at the end of your bed. “I do care about you, you know that-“

“No! I don’t. And I’m starting to think you’re just a big fat liar who’s selling me dreams to try to get in my panties.” You huff, hiding behind your teddy.

“They are very nice panties, admittedly, and what’s underneath them is even nicer-“

“Ani!” You throw the teddy and it goes flying in his direction.

“Let me finish!” He sniggers, climbing up closer to you and handing you your teddy back.

“As much as I am a fan of your panties, I’m an even bigger fan of you. Your beautiful face, your mind, the way you wear your heart on your sleeve. I’m sorry I hurt you darling, it just wasn’t the right time to reveal a thing like that. Y’know your brother would kill me if he found out. All ramped up on post-show adrenaline. And he’s my best friend, ya know? He means a lot to me- you both do, so I just need some time to figure out how this is gonna work.” He speaks softly, brushing his knuckles against your cheeks.

“O-okay, Ani. I guess I understand.” You mutter, entranced by his close proximity and the way he’s touching you.

“Good girl. Now take that dress off.” He commands and you’re rendered speechless. “I know you bought it for him and that sickens me.”

For reasons you can’t explain, you stand up and begin slowly peeling off the dress, pushing the fabric off your shoulders and allowing it to drop to the floor, pooling around your feet.

“Now throw it away. I’ll buy you a new one.” His slippery voice seeps into your mind and you crumble the dress up, throwing it into the bin by the door.

“Good. Now come here.” He gestures you towards his lap and you slowly climb him, wrapping your legs around his smooth torso.

“You know you’re mine, right?” He slides his broad calloused palms over your ass cheeks, eliciting a squeak from you when he squeezes them roughly.

“M, m’ all yours Ani.” You kick yourself for how easily you gave in -but those eyes, and that body- oh that body. How could you be expected to stay strong when you were pressed this tightly against him?

“That’s right, babydoll. You’re all mine, and I’m all yours.” He purrs and you feel a damp spot forming in your panties at the sound of his velvety hushed voice. “And that’s the way it’s gonna be from now on. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Ani, crystal.” You whine, pawing at his chest and planting kisses around his neck.

“Needy little thing. Do you need daddy’s help to make you feel better?”

“Yes please, daddy. Make me feel good like you did last time.” You moan at the memory and goosebumps form all over your skin.

“Oh, I’ll make you feel even better. Lie back down, sweetheart.” He helps you off him and you sprawl out onto your mound of fluffy pillows.

“W-what are you gonna do t’me?” You question, a tingle of apprehension piercing your excitement.

“I’m gonna mark you as mine. I’m gonna fill you up full of me.” He begins to plant kisses all up and down your thighs, making you whimper with anticipation.

“Remember how good you did for me last time? I’m gonna need you to do that again- spread your legs, sweetheart.” You obey him and spread yourself open, revealing the wet spot permeating your lace panties.

“Nice ’n ready f’me.” He grumbles with a quietly content sigh. “Lift your hips.”

Doing as he wishes, you let him slip your underwear off and settle himself between your heat- his warm breath causing tingling sensations to bloom all over your skin. A hunger overtakes him and he dives in abruptly, tongue flicking up and down your sensitive clit. You pant and moan, feeling a full-body blush warm you up, all your nerve endings on fire at the feeling of his flat tongue against your cunt.

“Fuck Ani, you’re so good at that.” You moan breathlessly and feel him chuckle, the vibrations buzzing through you. He lifts his head and allows a glistening trail of spit to drip down from his lips to your core, soaking you entirely.

“Not that you need any help getting wet, but I want it to feel as good as possible.” He wipes the drool from his mouth and rises until he’s hovering above you. “Do you want to touch it first?” He asks and you nod slowly.

Unzipping his jeans, he grabs your hand and guides it to feel what’s underneath his boxers. A small gasp escapes your lips once you touch the ridged edges of his tip, before trailing your fingers down to his veiny, thick base.

“Oh my God, Ani…” You utter, barely above a whisper. “How…how will it fit?”

“We’ll make it fit.” He smirks, before putting your hand back and removing his jeans. “Are you ready, sweetheart? Remember if it hurts too much just tap me and I’ll stop, okay?”

“Okay Ani, I trust you.” You couldn’t believe you were finally doing this- years of saving yourself, only to give your virginity to a guy who you weren’t even in a real relationship with. It was so unlike you, so contrary to the way you’d been raised, so bad- and you loved it.

“Spit.” He orders, holding his hand under your mouth. As with all his commands, you obey without question and observe as he takes that same hand and strokes his cock with it, your spit wettening his entire base.

Lining himself up with your entrance, he takes a deep breath- as if he’s the one who’ll be in pain- and pushes in just the tip. You wince a little and grab the bedsheets- seeing this, Ani offers you his hand to hold. “It’s just the tip baby, relax. I’m not moving.” You nod furiously, blinking away tears that are forming; you’re not sure if they’re from the pain, the shock or the emotional effect this is having on you.

After taking a minute to adjust, you find yourself moving your hips just a little, impaling yourself on his cock by just a centimetre at a time.

“I thought it hurt, princess- do you want more already?” Anakin teases but remains completely still.

“Mhm, I’m ready for more, daddy.” You mumble, rotating your hips impatiently.

“Alright, if you’re sure.” He smirks, pushing the rest of his length into you in one swift motion- causing you to throw your head back at the overwhelming sensation of being filled. “What’s the matter, bunny? Too much?” Your eyes are screwed shut but you can feel his cocky smile radiating at you as he thrusts in and out.

“Fu- ugh, ani, mmph!” Little squeaks are pounded out of you a syllable at a time as your poor pussy is bullied by Anakin’s cock.

“That was quick, thought I was gonna have to ease my way in an inch at a time- but you just swallowed me right up, greedy pussy.” His vulgar words prompt whimpers to leave your wet lips and cause your legs to tremble.

“Goddamn baby, you are just so wet.” You don’t even have to look down to know he’s right- you can hear the lewd squelching that accompanies every smack of flesh.

“Please, I wanna, mmph.” You can’t get the words out as you claw at Ani’s shirt, hoping he gets the hint to take it off.

“Alright baby, alright.” He rips his shirt off, leaving his tanned chest exposed. Wanting to follow suit, you try to reach around and take your bra off- but the cock deep inside you is blighting your cognitive ability too much for you to succeed.

“I got you, baby, c’mere.” He coos, unhooking your bra with one hand- an act you raise a disapproving eyebrow to. “What? We can’t all be virgins.” The rational part of your brain wants to get mad but your body can’t seem to focus on anything other than the deliriously good way in which you’re getting pounded right now.

No doubt trying to get your mind off his sexual history before you started ruminating on it, he massages your breast, reaching down to suck on one while his relentless thrusts continued.

“If I could stay in here for the rest of my life, I’d be a very happy man.” He mumbled in between sucks, the cold air making your wet nipples hard. “Can I, princess? Can I stay inside you forever?”

You look down at the sight of your bodies meeting- his cock barging into your core, coated in creamy arousal- and you almost turn hysterical.

“Yes, yes, yes! Please Ani- mmph- please never, ever leave.” You beg, head spinning with pleasure as you feel your climax approaching.

“Shh, you have to be quiet, we’re not home alone.” He places his hand over your mouth and pounds into your little guts, muffled squeaks sufficiently silenced.

“Do you want me to fill you up?” He says breathily, trying to hold back moans. “Would you like that sweetheart? Want me to fill you up while your brother’s next door? Want to walk around the house with my cum dripping down your thighs?”

He knows you can’t say anything with his hand clutched over your mouth so tightly but he wants to give you the illusion that you have an option.

“Are you gonna be daddy’s good girl and let him spill his cum deep inside you? Yeah?” You nod frantically to everything he says, too cock drunk to think logically. He puts one of your legs over his shoulders as he drills into you with an increased intensity and you notice a warm, tingly feeling rise within you.

“Ahh fu- mm Ani, Ani, ‘m gonna cum.” You yelp out wildly, biting through his hand.

“Daddy’s gonna cum too, baby.” He groans in response, grip on your thigh hardening as his thrusts become more sloppy. “Oh, baby! Fuck, princess.” He whines as you feel hot ropes of cum shoot into you, pushing you over the edge into your own white hot orgasm. Your legs shake at the aftershock of such an intense feeling and Anakin remains on top of you, catching his breath.

“Who moans who’s name when they cum now?” You tease and he slaps the side of your thigh in response, chuckling as he slowly pulls out to reveal a flood of cum dribbling from your core.

“Yep, definitely mine.” He admires the sight. “Fuck, I hope Jaden didn’t hear any of that.”

“He’s always got his headphones on- if he suspected anything, he would’ve come in and beat you up by now.” You giggle mischievously- you loved how protective your brother was over you.

You showered together in your ensuite and Anakin gently cleaned every inch of your body, kissing every part he touched so softly that you would’ve thought you were made of glass. Once you got out, you headed to your wardrobe to find pyjamas.

“I believe this belongs to you.” He reaches into his backpack and hands you his band tee.

“You sure I can actually keep it this time?” You accept it hesitantly.

“Yes. And if anyone asks, say your boyfriend gave it to you.”

You smile sheepishly and put the oversized tee on before enveloping Ani in the tightest hug you’d ever given.

“Let’s go downstairs, I’ll make us some hot chocolate!”

“Oh dear God no, please let me make it.” Ani laughs and throws you over his shoulder, trudging downstairs to the kitchen.

“There you are. Thought you said you’d be here an hour ago.” Jaden grumbles at the bottom of the stairs, staring blankly at Anakin.

“Oh! Yeah, I, uh made a detour.” He gulps and Jaden raises an eyebrow when he sees you.

“Was that detour giving it to my sister?”

“What?!”

“The shirt. Did you go to give it to her?”

“Oh! Yes, I uh think it suits her more than me.” His gaze trails off, admiring you.

“Are you two finally a thing now then or?” Jaden asks, unamused.

“Huh? I, well we, uh-“

“Relax, I know you’ve liked her for years. I guess if she has to be with someone, I’m glad it’s my best buddy. That way I can keep an eye on you both.” He points in your direction, chuckling. “Oh and by the way- our walls? They’re real thin. Just sayin’.” Jaden walks off, rolling his eyes as you and Anakin stare at each other in shock.

“Wow, that was not the reaction I was expecting. Thought I was gonna get my ass beat.” Anakin sighs in relief.

“Liked me for years, huh?” You grin, ego boosted by Jaden’s revelation.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s see how cocky you are when I’m in your guts again.” Anakin stares down at you and you’re suddenly aware of how small you are compared to him.

“I can take it.” You huff defiantly.

“One round and you think you’re a big girl? Very well, I’ll clear my schedule- looks like I’ve got a long night of brat training.”

@erinkeifer @mortalheartache @crazy4hotmen

[badomensbaby]

rules of the road. lrh

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader

summary: finally getting your driver's license after moving to the big city for college, you're a bit stunned by your dorky, charming driving instructor.

warnings: 18+ only. minors DNI. flirting/flustering, protected smut, praise kink, mommy kink, car sex, safe sane and consensual, explicit sexual content. (driving instructor! luke, racecar driver! luke)

words: 6,307

a/n: one beautiful evening, as i was driving home with a frosty from wendy's balanced in my lap, i saw a student driver vehicle and i was like! hm! what if... and then this kind of happened. i tried to keep a keen eye while editing but if there's an error, feel free to let me know! <3

feedback and constructive criticism welcome. requests are open!

Copyright © 2024 badomensbaby. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

You weren't a typically nervous person.

Growing up in a town where you practically had to just figure it out on your own, nothing really got under your skin. Not tractor maintenance nor harvest schedules, or that nasty little wasp's nest in the cattle barn in the spring.

But tests, those were a different story.

From college entrance exams to applying for your driver's license, those were the types of tests that made your heart race and your palms clam up. Because it was the unknown that bothered you so much. The unfamiliarity.

And, sprinkle in the fact that you'd left the family farm to pursue a college degree into the mix and every worry's been increased tenfold. As the baby of the family, first daughter behind a handful of rowdy, hard-working boys, being the first of your household to attend college was a serious milestone. You could only hope to make your parents and siblings proud.

But moving to the big city meant learning to drive. Well, legally. You've spent countless hours in your father's farm truck or your grandfather's tractor, you weren't necessarily inexperienced when it came to driving but you've never really been surrounded by other drivers. Just gravel roads and grassy two-tracks and your bothers dirt bikes.

The initial exam, a knowledge test about road signs and rules, wasn't too bad. They'd given you a practice test and a helpful guide booklet when you'd arrived at your appointment. It felt odd, being just barely twenty years old and taking a driver knowledge exam alongside kids barely pushing sixteen. You felt behind but it wasn't your fault.

Nerves didn't erupt in your stomach until the kind lady in the Secretary of State's office informed you that you'd be taking an on-road driver skills test. An instructor will watch you, quiz you, and grade you accordingly and if you fail, you can kiss your ability to drive legally goodbye until you pass.

Now that makes you nervous. Like there's ravenous butterflies swarming your stomach. You're already under a lot of pressure with fall classes starting soon and your part-time job, now you're worried about passing your driver's exam. The lady assured you there's nothing to fret over, that the instructor you've been assigned is well versed in the rules of the road and he's a total sweetheart.

Waiting in the parking lot wasn't the worst part. You were told he'd arrive shortly, a man named Mr. Hemmings, in one of the contracted company's instructing vehicles. Plastered with bright yellow stickers along the back, just shouting to everyone on the road that you're an inexperienced driver so take it easy.

Expecting some middle aged, married, grumpy man with nothing positive to say, the nerves weren't so bad as you basked in the moderate heat of the Michigan summer sun. Your phone pings a few times, a slew of good lucks and you've got this! from your family members. You don't even realize there's a stark white Toyota Camry pulling up to the curb until the scuff of shoes on the asphalt catches your attention.

"Y/N L/N?" A thick, low voice questions. A text message to your eldest brother sits unfinished beneath your thumbs, lips parting with shock. There's no bald patch or flat tire sticking out beneath his shirt, hell it barely looks like he's wearing a shirt at all because the white fabric is so snug and pulled taught over his abdomen and chest and arms that it's absolutely ludicrous. "Y/N?" he repeats.

"Yeah- yeah, that's me," You hesitantly stand, shoving your phone in the pocket of your jeans before brushing your now clammy hands along your thighs. His eyes flicker between the clipboard in his hand and you, shamelessly raking up and down your frame before clearing his throat.

"Great," His lips twist into a wide, toothy smile, shoulders seemingly relaxing at the confirmation. His stance laxes, nodding his head of bouncy, golden curls towards the vehicle that's idling behind him. "Why don't we go ahead and get started?"

You nod, swallowing the thick lump forming in your throat, hardly maintaining eye contact with the instructor as you climb into the driver's seat and watch him awkwardly fit himself into the seat beside you. "Okay," He blows out a breath. "I'm Mr. Hemmings but you can just call me Luke, it's easier and nobody likes saying a long name especially if you're in a panic."

You barely manage a short, clipped laugh. "Rad. Anyway, we're gonna be in here for the next hour or so. I'm mainly here to make sure you understand vehicle safety and that you're prepared to operate this beauty on your own," With a laugh, Mr. Hemmings taps the dashboard with his palm. "Well, not this beauty obviously, but you get my point. Oh! And I have break pedals over here just in case. I haven't used them yet this month so please don't put us in a situation where I might need to."

He's funny, you'll admit. In a dorky, charming kind of way. He hasn't stopped smiling the entire time and you're curious if he's just that way in general or if it's a front because he probably deals with some right idiots when it comes to being an instructor. "You're quiet."

"Sorry," You mumble, hands still folded in your lap. "I'm just a bit nervous."

"There's really no need," he assures you, turning in his seat with an excited smile. "If you've passed your vision and knowledge tests then this is like, a cakewalk. Have you driven before?"

"Yeah, back home," You tell him. "Mostly just old trucks, though. I don't think I've ever driven a proper car."

"Cool, car virgin. I like that," Luke turns his attention back to the clipboard, scribbling something that you're unable to make out because it's complete chicken scratch. "Well, why don't we get going so we can stay on track."

"Okay," You breathe out, clasping the seatbelt over your lap. Under your breath, you rattle off the first steps of safety before your hands ever touch the steering wheel. Seatbelt, check. Rearview mirror, check. Side mirrors, check. When everything seems as it should, you rest one hand on the wheel before shifting the vehicle into drive, peering out of the passenger's side mirror to ensure no cars are coming up behind you in the lot.

Luke stays silent, observing you, pen hovering over his checklist sheet. As you head towards the exit, you realize you have absolutely no clue where you're meant to go. "Uhh-"

"Take a left here," Luke tells you. Signaling, you check both ways for any oncoming traffic before exiting the parking lot, keeping an eye on the speed limit signs posted on the side of the road. "And at the next light, hang a right. We'll follow that through downtown and then get you on the highway for a bit."

Nodding, you try to keep yourself composed and not let the nerves get to you as you follow his instruction. You make sure to slow down appropriately as you cruise through the city's downtown area, briefly taking in the brick buildings and shops as you pass.

The vehicle's air is a little stiff, a little warm underneath the summer sun and you're considering asking Luke if he can turn the air on but he's too busy drumming his fingertips along his bare thigh to really pay you any mind. You'd always heard that driving instructors were very observant, overly cautious and very strict about everything but Luke's so laid back it's slowly beginning to relieve your nerves.

"Would you mind turning on the air?" Luke asks, eyes soft and kind when you glance over at him. You're just trekking along behind other vehicles, following signs for the highway that's still a few miles out. It's probably one of the things on his checklist, for you to tinker with something and hope it doesn't distract you enough to cause any accidents.

Glancing at the various knobs, luckily they're standard and simple, similar to your father's truck so pressing two buttons quickly has cool air flowing into the car. You feel a little more at ease, less of an iron grip on the steering wheel. "You're doing great, by the way." Luke chimes in.

"Thanks," You keep an eye on the Jeep that keeps randomly breaking in front of you, easing off of the accelerator when applicable. You weren't a newbie when it came to driving itself, just following the actual road laws and learning the flow of traffic. "I need to turn right up here?" You ask.

Luke hums with a nod. He's began muttering some tune under his breath along with his finger-drumming, as if he isn't remotely worried about you merging onto the highway. Picking up speed, you join alongside the few cars rumbling along the road. "We'll take this to the next town over, about thirty minutes, then we'll head back and do a few simple maneuvers and that's it."

You nod, fighting the urge to sigh. Who knew your road test would be so boring? There's no music, just the sound of your tires on the asphalt and Luke's low humming. "Why'd you decide to become an instructor? Isn't it- well, boring?"

A slow chuckle slips out of your instructor's mouth, elbow perched on the door, hand clasped against the side of his face. "It's not all boring, I swear. I just like helping people become confident drivers. You'd be surprised how many students I've had that are too terrified to even start the engine."

"You're pretty laid back, it's definitely making me less nervous," You laugh softly, keeping your eyes on the empty road. "Helps that you're not bad looking either."

Shit, you weren't meant to say that.

In your peripheral, you can see Luke squirm slightly in his seat, instantly worrying that you've made him uncomfortable. You're about to retract your statement and apologize but the grin that overtakes his pink lips stops you. "Thank you," he says honestly, his tone a little strained. "So are you. I mean, I wouldn't say not bad looking, you're pretty- like quite pretty- and okay, is it a little warm in here? Jeez."

You stifle a laugh at his nervous rambling. It's cute, kind of refreshing, too. But a weight settles in your stomach because no, you absolutely cannot think your driving instructor is cute. Doesn't that cross some kind of line? Break a rule? It has to. "So- are you uh.. getting your driver's license to.. drive to your boyfriend's house orr.."

Oh god, he's also pretty damn terrible at flirting. Normally, you'd find it cringey and a tad obnoxious but it's cute on him. Adorable, even, because he's definitely a handful of years older than you but he flusters so easily it makes your confidence soar.

There's nothing wrong with indulging in it, is there? It's not like you're gonna fuck him on the side of the highway or anything.

"No boyfriend," You keep a straight face, like you're intently focused on the billboards you pass by. "Or girlfriend." You tack on, just to see him flounder a little more.

"Oh- yeah, rad," Luke nods a few times. "That's- yeah, okay, cool."

God, he's so fucking cute. How'd you get so damn lucky to have him as an instructor?

Luke's tapping the window ledge aimlessly, almost looking uncomfortable but not with you, like something's gnawing at him. "Hey, can you pull off at this rest stop for a minute? I need to- uh- bathroom. Yeah."

"Sure." You signal off, slowing down as you near the small building, only a few cars scattered in the parking lot. Luke quickly unbuckles himself and slips out of the car, almost too fast for you to realize there's a tent in his shorts. Well, fuck.

You've never really been the hook-up type in the past, coming from such a small town there's slim pickings when you know everyone's faults. Only when your family would travel up to Mackinac Island or down to Kalamazoo to visit family would you end up fooling around with some local for an afternoon but that didn't happen very often.

Though the circumstances aren't ideal, there's obviously some kind of attraction on both sides. Probably just some silly short-term infatuation and who knows what's running through Luke's mind. But he's hot, there's no denying that, and guilt tugs at your chest because he's here to do a job and you're just being a massive distraction.

Luke returns about fifteen minutes later, a little flushed in the face but there's this look he's sporting that looks nothing short of pure bliss. You're not stupid, you can recognize a post-orgasm haze from a million miles away.

God, did he really get off in a public rest stop bathroom? What the hell was he so worked up over? You bite back any inappropriate questions lingering on your tongue as he buckles himself in and you merge back onto the highway.

Luke doesn't say a word until it's time to circle back. He's quiet, too quiet, thrumming his fingers against his knee in a rhythm you aren't able to recognize. You decide to go the exact speed limit, setting the cruise control and waiting for Luke to ask why you've done that but no such comment comes.

"You okay?" You finally ask. The two of you are trapped in here for at least another thirty minutes on the highway alone, then likely another twenty or thirty around town after that. The silence isn't deafening but it's making you a little uneasy.

"Me? Yeah- I'm great. Fantastic, actually. Why wouldn't I be? Nothing's wrong. Everything's peachy." The instructor rambles.

Something's definitely wrong. You're not a very confrontational person but you'd rather have whatever issue at hand out in the open than let it linger silently the remainder of your test. "Luke-"

As you're getting his attention, the car begins to splutter. Numerous lights illuminate the dashboard, a loud rumbling sound making the steering wheel shake beneath your hands. Immediately, Luke begins to press on the emergency instructor's breaks and with some guidance, he helps you pull off on the shoulder just as the engine dies.

Not believing the sight before you, you turn to Luke, who's equally as shocked and silent, both of your chests heaving. "What the hell?" You ask aloud.

"I have no clue," Luke says frantically. "The car's been running fine all day. There weren't any warning lights, were there?"

Truthfully, you don't remember. "I don't.. think so? All of them lit up before it crapped out."

"Shit," Luke curses lowly. "Let me see if I can figure out what's going on."

Luke slips out of the Camry, leaving his clipboard behind. You hear him yell, muffled, "Pop the hood!" And you do, after taking a second to find the button with your shaky fingers.

The longer Luke is beneath the hood the longer you worry. It's an early Thursday evening, on a fairly quiet highway, and the likelihood that some passerby is going to offer assistance is slim. Plus, tow trucks in this area only operate within a ten mile radius, so it's unlikely you'll find one for a reasonable price if the car is toast.

This is what you get for thinking he's cute, your brain tosses at you. You know it isn't true but it's kind of ironic, isn't it?

Luke slips back inside the car. "Well, one of the hoses broke," He sighs, digging through the pockets of his shorts in search of his cellphone. "So the car won't start even if we wanted it to. We'll have to call a tow truck."

"Of course this would happen during my driving exam," You sigh, eyes fluttering shut as a low, frustrated groan crawls up your throat. "Just my luck."

"I probably shouldn't include the fact that I have no service then, should I?"

Your eyes pry open. "What?" You ask, finding your phone and sure enough, no fucking signal. "Seriously? We're on the damn highway, not in the middle of the ocean!"

"Hey, we'll be fine," Luke rests his hand momentarily on your shoulder and you try to ignore the goosebumps rising on your skin. Sheepishly, he pulls it away. "I'll see if I can make an emergency call to highway patrol."

"Please do," You mumble weakly.

Your father would have a field day if he could see you. Barely a week into living away from them and you're stranded on the side of the highway with a hot driving instructor. What a joke.

With no luck, Luke groans, tossing his phone onto the dashboard. "My phone died," he says. "Can you call on yours?"

"Yeah," You dial using your phone's emergency function, only to be met with CALL FAILED in big letters. "How the hell can an emergency call fail?"

"Okay, well at least we've both probably eaten recently and I keep snacks in the trunk," You toss a glare towards the blonde, not finding his statement remotely relieving at all. "What? Teenagers get grumpy so I always have granola bars on hand."

"So we're stuck," You sigh softly. Luke nods, hands toying with one another. "Until I get signal or someone passing by takes pity on us."

"I'm sorry Y/N," Luke says quietly. "About- about all of this. I really had no idea, this car's never given me any problems."

"It's not your fault," You glance over at him, noticing his lower lip tucked between his teeth. "I'm gonna walk a bit and see if I can get signal, alright?"

"You shouldn't go alone," Luke says, a bit rushed. "I mean, not that you aren't capable or anything because I'm sure you are - female empowerment and all that I just- uh-"

"Just stay here," You say, a little clipped. You aren't upset with him, just the situation. "I'll be right back."

Luke swallows thickly, blue eyes wide. "Yes m'am."

You slip out of the car and begin walking along the shoulder, grass and gravel crunching beneath your feet, checking your cellphone every few seconds in hopes that a signal will appear. A big fat SOS stares back at you, practically mocking you.

After ten or so minutes, you aren't sure how far you've walked but you can't see the Camry anymore. You know it'll cool off soon as the sun begins to set and it'll be best if you're somewhere safe. Regretfully, you head back to the car to find Luke scribbling on his clipboard in the passenger seat.

"Nothing," You say, checking your phone once more, noticing it's been about thirty minutes since you've pulled off the road. "What're you drawing over there?"

"Just doodling," He says, showing you a mix of scribbles along the bottom of your driving checklist. "What else am I supposed to do? We're stuck for the time being."

"Yeah, you're right."

It's silent for a few minutes, aside from Luke's been inking the checklist. "We could.. play a game, maybe? Something to keep our minds off of.. y'know, the whole car breaking down thing."

"What kind of game?" You ask.

"Oh- uh, twenty questions?" Luke offers.

You snort. Twenty questions is for horny teenagers, not two almost-strangers stuck in a broken down vehicle on the side of the highway. "Guess that's a no."

"What about what are the odds?" You suggest. "I played it all the time with my soccer friends, it's pretty fun."

"Okay," Luke agrees. "You'll have to explain the rules to me, though."

You sit up a little straighter, a smile unknowingly tugging at your lips. Maybe there's an ulterior motive ping-ponging in the back of your mind. Maybe.

"It's really easy. One of us says something like 'what are the odds that you'll make an embarrassing noise', then pick a number in your head, and on the count of three we'll both say a number and if it's the same the other person has to do that thing. Make sense?"

"I think I've got it," Luke nods, turning in his seat with excited eyes. He looks fucking adorable. You shake your head, getting comfortable in the seat. "Okay, can I go first?"

"Go for it."

"Okay- uh, what are the odds that you'll.. you'll- tell me something about yourself?"

That's not quite it but a good start, Luke.

"One through fifteen." You say. "Three.. two... one.."

"Ten."

"Twelve."

"Ah, shit," Luke frowns. "I don't think I'm very good at this."

"You'll get the hang of it," You tap his knee with the back of your hand without a thought, watching his cheeks twinge pink. "I'll go. What are the odds you'll pass me?"

"One in.. ten," Luke says. "Three.. two.. one.."

"Six."

"Six."

"Aha!" You grin, victoriously. "See, I'm a mindreader."

"As if I'd flunk you," Luke rolls his eyes. "You're a good driver, Y/N. You need to be a little more confident but there's no way I'd fail you."

You need to be a little more confident. Sure, Luke was talking about driving but that doesn't mean you can't apply that statement to anything else, right?

"Alright, my turn," Luke rolls his lips in thought. "What are the odds that.. you'd be my friend on Facebook?"

"Facebook?" You ask, a brow raised. "Nobody uses Facebook anymore, Luke."

"I do," Luke defends softly, shoulders drawing inward. "Just play along, Y/N."

"Okay, fine," You laugh softly. "Uhh, one in ten. Three.. two.. one.."

"Four."

"Eight."

"Damn, looks like we won't be Facebook friends," You tease, the flush still bright and red and pretty on Luke's cheeks. He's so easy to fluster. You almost regret what you're about to say. "What are the odds you'll admit the real reason we stopped at the rest area?"

Luke's face falls. "I.." He glances away from you, clearly caught off guard and there's a stinging in your chest. You should've just kept your mouth shut, he didn't deserve to be called out like that.

"I'm so sorry, that was too far, I-"

"It's..okay," Luke lets out a wavering breath. "I feel really bad about that," Your brows furrow. "Look I- I think you're really pretty and this is so, so unprofessional of me but I uh- you said girlfriend and my mind just- went off on it's own. I'm sorry."

"Oh," Your mouth feels dry all of a sudden. "You were thinking of me with- oh."

Luke looks away, clearly embarrassed, a blush blooming down his neck. "I'm sorry, Y/N. It was really inappropriate and I shouldn't have."

"It's okay," You assure him. Luke looks like a kicked puppy, unsure as his eyes slowly meet yours, not quite believing you. "Seriously, it's fine. I- yeah, I'm also into girls. I don't blame you for your.. thoughts, or whatever."

Luke sucks in a sharp breath, like you've said something sinfully explicit. "I- maybe we should end the game here before I say something really stupid."

He isn't covert about it, covering his growing hard-on, beginning to tent his shorts. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, trailing along the inside of your lower lip. Fuck, you have quite the opportunity here and it would be a shame if you let it go to waste. Consensually, of course.

"You're thinking about me with a girl again, aren't you?" You boldly accuse, your eyes narrowing in a teasing manner, watching Luke's gentle blue eyes widen and mouth fall open. "It's okay if you are."

He's so.. submissive. You've never really explored the whole dynamic of positions like that but making your instructor blush and squirm makes you feel.. hot.

"Maybe," Luke's voice is small, soft, and you're loving every second of it. "Y/N, I-"

"What're you thinking about, Luke?" You ask, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the center console, your tone low. "Me kissing another girl, maybe? Getting all hot and bothered and messy and wet?"

A whimper crawls up his throat. "I- fuck."

You trail a finger along his thigh, tracing the leg of his shorts. "Maybe you'd just watch, huh?" You provoke him, watching his Adam's apple bob in his throat. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah- I would.." His voice is weak, lips parting and soft little pants escaping them. He's so easy for it, you love it. The dominance rolling off of you in waves seems to come naturally and who are you to deny it? "Y/N.."

"What, Luke? What do you need?"

Need. Luke keens. "I.. can I.."

"You wanna touch yourself?" You ask.

"No.. you, please."

You hum. How can you say no, when he sounds so wrecked like that? "Think there's enough room for us in the back there?"

"Don't wanna.. move," Luke mumbles, eyes already glazed over. He's so far gone. "My lap?"

You won't toy with him anymore, not when he's offering to get you off. To touch you. God, his fingers are beautiful and long and you're dying to have them buried inside of you. "Yeah, 'kay." You puff out, watching Luke adjust himself properly and helping guide you to sit in his lap, your knees on either side of his hips.

It isn't ideal but it'll work. He works with shaky, excited hands to unfasten the button and zipper of your jean shorts before trailing his fingers along the waistline of your underwear. "Can I?" You nod, teeth sinking into your lower lip in anticipation.

Without hesitance, Luke dips his hand into the waistband, finding your damp heat with ease. His fingers curl around you, whimpering at the warmth before a finger slips inside of you, slick and velvety. "Oh- fuck."

"Luke," You moan out softly, clasping a hand on the instructor's shoulder. He carries a steady pace, sliding a second finger beside the first, brutally hard at the warmth coating his digits. "Fuck, feels so good."

"You're so wet," He mumbles, like he's surprised, peering up at your blissed out features. "Fuck, did I- did I do this to you?"

"Yes," Your hips shift greedily, making his fingers sink deeper into you. "You're just so.."

"So?" You can feel his breath against your collarbone through your shirt.

"So needy," You moan, rotating your hips, effectively riding Luke's fingers, like he's some kind of toy. "It's so hot, how hard you get so easily- I- fuck, there."

"Y/N," Luke pants against you, his free hand trailing up to your hip, holding tightly. "Wanna make you cum, please."

"Yeah?" You breathe out. "Gonna let me ride your fingers? Fuck myself until I cum?"

"Oh god," Luke trembles, his movements faltering but it doesn't matter, you're moving steadily and the more you shift the more his fingers hit that perfect spot. You can feel it in your toes, that you're close, but you need something else to get you there.

"Did you think about me?" You ask, a light sweat forming on your brow. "When you got off in the bathroom? Did you moan for me?"

"Yes," Luke admits in a whine. "Yes- fucking- came so hard, Y/N. Thought of you the whole time."

Just thinking about Luke, working his cock so quickly in his fist thinking about you is enough, warmth flooding your stomach as your orgasm rapidly approaches and you're releasing all over Luke's fingers. Like a fucking floodgate.

"Oh fuck," You hear him moan, fingers slowing as your hips come to a halt. "Fuck, Y/N."

Blissful and warm and flushed, Luke retracts his fingers from you, the digits glistening as he slips them into his mouth with needy, complacent hums. He looks more wrecked than you do.

"Can I- can I ride you?" You blurt.

Luke goes rigid. "What?"

"I wanna ride you," You reiterate. "I wanna fuck you, Luke. Can I?"

"You- yeah, fuck of course," Luke's eyes are blue and glassy and glazed and you aren't even sure how he's functioning right now. He hasn't even cum yet so- wait. "Just give me a minute.."

Curiously, you shift back a bit on his lap to see he's half-hard and there's an obvious damp patch on the front of his shorts. "Did you cum while you were touching me?"

Luke nods. "Sorry."

"Fuck that's so hot," You can't help it, fitting both hands beneath his jaw to tilt his head upward, capturing his lips easily with your own. He tastes like spearmint gum and flavored coffee, it's all you can think about when you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip. That was too easy, you can already feel his dick fattening against your thigh again. "Do you have a condom?"

"In my wallet," Luke pants against your mouth. "I wasn't like- expecting this, by the way."

"Neither was I," You laugh softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. "Let me get my shorts off."

Car sex seems so hot in theory until you're caught up in the moment and you're stuck trying to take off clothing where it's just not possible. You manage to slip your shorts off, leaving your damp underwear on before claiming Luke's lap once again. The condom sits in the crevice between his thigh and hip, fly open and dick straining against the seam of his boxers.

"Get yourself ready for me," You tell him softly, your fingertips trailing along your lower abdomen, along the inside of your shirt to cup your breasts beneath your bra. Luke's in a trance, nearly swallowing his own tongue before nodding and barely wiggling his shorts and boxers down his hips. He slips the condom on, abandoning the foil packet god knows where, before stroking himself a few times with a gentle hiss. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

Luke squirms at that. "Thank you," he mutters. "Can I- are you ready?"

"So ready," He carefully aligns his hips with yours before slowly pressing inside, letting out tiny whimpers with every inch he sinks in. "Fuck."

"Y/N," Luke moans, eyes threatening to fall shut. His hands find your thighs, blunt nails digging into the soft skin there, hips threatening to rut upwards at the sheer warmth encasing his cock. It's immeasurable, how good you feel wrapped snugly around him.

"So good, Luke, you're doing so good," You praise gently, holding yourself upright with your hands on his broad shoulders. Once he's buried to the hilt, you slowly rock your hips in a circle, eliciting a short gasp from the blonde. "Such a good boy."

The simple phrase makes Luke choke on his own breath. "You're so warm," he mumbles, lips barely moving, chest rising and falling steadily. You rock your hips again. "Oh my god."

Luke isn't like the guys you've slept with before. He's sensitive and responsive and it's probably the hottest thing you've ever witnessed. It's like he's fighting the urge to give in. Slowly, you begin to bounce in his lap, testing the waters. Luke moans every time you sink down.

"Yeah?" You ask him after a particularly whiny moan falls from his mouth. "Feel good, Luke? Tell me. Tell me how good it feels."

"Feels so good," He babbles, a wheezy, whining mess every bounce you make. It's slick and wet and so fucking hot you know you'll cum again sometime soon. He's hitting all the right spots inside of you. It helps he's probably the biggest dick you've taken by far. "So good. Please don't stop, please."

"Not gonna stop," You mutter, nails sinking into the skin of his shoulders. "You're such a good boy, Luke. Taking it so well. Feel so good inside me."

Luke lets out a squeak when you clench around him. "Mommy-"

Your hips falter briefly but you can't stop, you refuse, because that word, though you've never been called that before it lights a flame inside of your stomach that makes you want more and more and more. "Yeah?" You abandon your grip on one of his shoulders to clasp his jaw, making Luke meet your eyes, his half lidded and cloudy and dark blue. "Gonna let mommy fuck you, Luke? Ride your cock until she cums?"

Luke bites down on his lower lip so hard he swears he can taste blood. His head is swirling, like yours, all fuzzy and fucked dumb. Your pace grows quicker, a bit more focused but frenzied, until Luke's panting to the point where he's babbling words that don't even make any sense. "Gonna- please- need-"

"What, Luke? What do you need?" You ask, ghosting your lips over his own. He whimpers against your mouth.

"Wanna cum, mommy. Can I?"

"Yeah baby," You press a hard kiss to his mouth, pushing your tongue past his lips and that's all he needs, gripping your thighs tightly until he's fully inside of you before releasing into the condom. Luke slumps slightly, clearly spent but you're far from finished. "Stay still, won't you?"

"What-" Luke mutters, flushed and confused when you begin to raise your hips and sink back down on him. "Oh fuck me."

"So close, Luke," He isn't softening in the slightest. It almost makes you smile, makes you proud because he's so turned on, just letting you use him like some kind of fuck toy. "Touch me?"

Luke nods, blissed out, attaching his thumb to your clit and rubbing furious, hard circles. Your thighs tremble as your orgasm builds up, toes curling inside of your shoes before finally letting go and releasing all over his length.

Shuddering through the warmth spreading up the base of your spine, your nails sink into the instructor's shoulders, panting against his mouth as he tips his head up to connect your lips in a soft kiss. Your skin feels tingly in the best way, electric, and your head swarming furiously.

Luke pulls away first. He's so flushed, from the tips of his ears to the base of his neck and you're positive that pretty pink blush has reached his naval, there's no doubt. He's definitely a full-body blusher. "Y/N.."

"Yeah?" You ask quietly, breathless, noticing the windows have fogged up a little bit from your activities.

"Can you.. sorry, it's just uh- the condom's a bit uncomfortable." The blonde grimaces apologetically, reddening further when you muffle out a short laugh and slowly climb off of him. Your underwear are soaked, from your own release, but you slide your shorts back on anyways as Luke ties off the condom and places it hesitantly on the floorboard.

Now that the two of you are dressed, less short on breath, you figure it might be best to address what the hell just happened. "Luke-"

"Y/N-"

"Sorry, go ahead," You mumble.

"I wasn't- planning that. Or, expecting it, I swear," Luke says rather quickly, eyes flitting away from you, a bit embarrassed. "Please don't think I make a habit of this. You're- you're the first."

You swallow harshly. "The first?"

A nervous, awkward laugh tumbles out of Luke's mouth. "No, no, that was a girlfriend in high school. I mean- uh- student."

"Oh," You puff out a relieved breath, resting your head back. You're still warm and relaxed from your orgasms. "Well in that case, I don't really sleep with driving instructors, so I guess it's a first for both of us."

"It's not.." Luke trails off, his voice low, like he isn't sure how to phrase what he's thinking. "It won't be the only time, will it?"

That comes as a bit of a surprise to you. Again, you weren't really the hook-up type but the guys you have hooked up with in the past were quick to forget it even happened and move on with their lives.

You're stunned into a short silence. Will that be the only time you hook up with Luke? Sure, he's funny, and insanely attractive, but aside from the few things you've shared during the drive he's still almost a complete stranger.

"I understand," Luke quietly says.

"No I- sorry, I was just- surprised," You say. "I'd like to see you again. Maybe not in a broken down car on the side of the highway."

Luke chuckles briefly. "Okay, cool," The tension seems to slip from his shoulders. "Sorry, I'm not really good at this. I don't really uh- date? Just, with work and everything it's hard to find the time."

"Being a driving instructor is that demanding?" You inquire, a lighthearted teasing lift to your voice. The highway is still dead silent and the sun is slowly beginning to set. Soon, you'll be cast in a hue of pinks and oranges and pretty purples.

"I race for a living," Luke says, catching your attention abruptly, your brows furrowing in confusion. "It's not something I really bring up in conversation or during uh- other things."

"You're not like, a Nascar driver or something, right?" You joke. Luke stays silent. "What the fuck?"

Way to go, Y/N. Fucking a driving instructor slash Nascar driver. Your parents would be so proud. Stupid girl.

"Like I said, I don't really tell people," Luke quickly defends, swallowing as an anxious look perturbs his features. "This doesn't uh- change anything right? About seeing me again?"

"No but if my dad finds out you're gonna be forced into every Sunday dinner until you're dead," You speak without thinking, still shocked about Luke's line of work. And here you were thinking he was just a dorky driving instructor for the state of Michigan. "Sorry, that was weird."

Luke laughs, shaking his head. He took your comment well, like too well, and you're starting to think maybe Luke isn't real at this point. He's too.. perfect. Handsome, dorky, a fucking racecar driver. "You're fine, I get it. Your dad's a big fan, then?"

"Huge," You sigh. "My brothers, too."

"You think they'd come to a race if I set aside some tickets?" Luke's teeth sink into his bottom lip, a hopeful look on his splotchy, pink face.

"I- I mean yeah," You stumble. "Luke, you really don't have to.."

"I want to," He reassures you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I really wanna see you again and if free tickets is the way I can then, I'd be dumb not to offer."

"For the record, I'd see you again regardless of the free tickets," You tell him, leaning to rest your elbows on the console. One of his eyebrows arch curiously, in a way that's so damn hot and Luke doesn't even realize it.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Yeah," You confirm. "By the way-"

You're cut off by the chirping of a siren, glancing out of the rearview mirror to see a State Trooper has parked behind you, lights flashing.

Well fuck. This'll be fun.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hobie brown x male!spiderman!reader where they’re “boyfriends” (more like best friends with benefits type thing) from different dimensions and haven’t seen each other in a while due to reader being kind of busy with SM stuff but one day reader shows up to hobies dimension in search of comfort because a canon event caused his older brother to die! Loving your hobie fics btw your whole blog is just good asf😭🫶💞

Here ya go! I hope you like it and I thank you for your kind words, they really mean a lot as I haven’t been feeling that great as of late, so this really made my day.

You felt as though you couldn’t breath, like the breath has been ripped straight out of your lungs, leaving you to struggle in finding fresh, unpolluted air to take in, to revitalise your lungs from the damage they’ve received; But you weren’t going to get that if you were to stay here.

Your head and heart were murky with every emotion imaginable trying to overtake each other as your primary feeling whilst your body was screaming at you to run, to leave, to get away because he was already dead before he even hit the ground; reminding you that you could mourn the dead later but as of right now you needed to get to the place you felt safest. But you weren’t going to get that if you were to stay here.

So without putting in much thought into anything anymore with your mind so far from reality and your emotions in a state of self destructive chaos, your change of scenery wasn’t brought into question until you heard the familiar sound of a guitar playing before it immediately stopped, only for it to be replaced by the sound of curious footsteps that grew in volume with they’re impending closeness. You knew those footsteps by heart and the type of shoes that made them but knew the male who wore those platforms like the back of your hand; Hobie’s warmth brought you a comfort that couldn’t be recreated nor imitated because even if it was even remotely the slightest bit off, you body naturally rejected it and would indiscreetly crave for the real thing.

For nothing could bring you more comfort, more sense of mind then being in Hobie’s arms.

‘Y/n?’ Even at the sound of his voice had your guarded walls crumbling.

‘Hobie, please tell me that’s you and not some sick trick of the mind.’ You whimpered, clutching the vest that he had left in your dimension between tightly clenched fists, while remaining adamant on keeping your back to him until you were for certain that he was in the room, talking to you, almost as though you were reassuring that deep seeded doubt that he was alive and okay.

In a couple of strides Hobie had his front pressed against your back as his arms cocooned you tightly in a method of preventing you moving away from his hold. ‘Does this feel like me?’ He asked softly, his heart hurting as he watched you instinctively huddled further into his chest until practically all of you was submerged against him. Just as your tears had begun to fall down your cheeks and creating wet patches against his shirt that you were adamant on clinging so desperately to. ‘Oh pretty boy.’ Hobie utters as he tightened his hold on you, allowing you to weep freely without judgment as all he wanted for you to do in that moment was to let it all out in whatever way you found best; whether it was to scream, cry, punch, or otherwise, Hobie would rather you be vocal about you pain rather then subduing it for a later date.

‘My brother died Hobie,’ you wept. ‘he died and I couldn’t save him, I wasn’t fast enough to reach him, I wasn’t strong enough to catch him as he fell, I wasn’t able enough to change anything.’ You gripped his shirt even tighter as you clenched your eyes shut as the imagery of the prior events proceeded to mock you of your biggest failure as Spider-Man as you added in a near inaudible whisper. ‘I don’t deserve to be Spider-Man. He’s meant to save people, not lead them to their deaths.’ Hobie knew that you didn’t meant for him to hear any of the last part but he very much did and felt that it was within his due diligence to remind you of how utterly bullshit that statement was because he’s making damn sure you don’t quit being what you so clearly love.

‘I want you to listen and listen good because I want what I say to you to stick with you so that when you get like this again, you’ll remember your worth and what you’ve always been fighting for; hope.’ Hobie began. ‘You were meant to be Spider-Man as much as I or any other Spider-Person in existence. Miguel’s bullshit has made you think that your value is based on the pain and the suffering we’ve endured and how there’s nothing we can do to combat it once it comes for us again, and again, and again. Forcing you to your knees in grief and sorrow but you want to know what you should do when that happens?’

‘What?’ You asked, removing your face from his chest to look him into his deep eyes with bleary eyes, practically melting into his touch when his hands moved to cup your face, rubbing his thumbs across your cheeks free of tear streaks. ‘Get back up.’ Hobie tells you. ‘Get back up because the fight ain’t over and it’ll never be over if you decide to give up now.’ He then sighs as he presses his head against yours in order to get closer to you. ‘Look I know it’s hard to keep going when they’re no longer here to root for us, to be there for us when we lick our wounds but it’ll only ever feel like that because you actively choose to stop remembering them, to stop honouring their memory within your heart, stop remembering their love and stop seeing them in everything they’ve touched, that’s when you know true loneliness. But your brother is still here,’ Hobie then brought one of your hands and pressed it against your chest to where your heart lied.

‘He’s right here and he will always be here, I will always be here for you in the moments you seemed to have lost your fighting spirit, to loose the willpower to keep going because I’ll happily carry you on my back until you do because that’s what we do, not only as Spider-Men but humans also. It’s practically in our nature.’ Just as Hobie was about to pull his hand off of yours, you were quick to grasp his hand and pulled it back towards you but only to place it over your heart, pressing you own hand atop of his to keep him there. There was a lot you wanted to tell Hobie that could wait until you were in a much better situation but even then you still had a lump in your throat that hindered your ability to speak your mind freely; which never usually happens when you’re with Hobie and it seemed as though he had caught onto this as well as he smiled reassuringly. ‘It’s okay, take your time.’

‘Will you stay with me? Just for a little while longer.’ You finally asked, racked with nervousness and anxiety as you fiddled with his fingers for his response. Hobie’s smile widens as he closed his eyes, brushing his nose against yours all the while making sure to keep you close in his embrace. ‘I’ll stay even long after you’re done needing me because I will always be standing in your corner, pretty boy.’