#sometimes you mess up the face but just gotta keep going

[callsign-muffin]

Heal Together: Chapter 6

(Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fic)

Sorry this chapter took much longer than usual. I wasn't sure if I wanted to share this on the page but y'all might already know... I'm a nurse. So my schedule is nice because I only work 3 days or nights a week but... sometimes those days/nights knock me on my ass. This week was no exception.

I really appreciate every single person who has liked, reblogged, and commented on my work. It means EVERYTHING to me. I hope you all enjoy this part!

Masterlist + Playlist

Word Count: 2.2k+

You had been flipped to nights this week and your body was suffering from the sudden change to your circadian rhythm. You and Carly walked to the parking garage in exhausted silence together as the sun rose over the hospital. It was a hard night to say the least, you both were assigned to unstable elderly patients that seemed to be circling the drain. It almost felt cruel to keep them from dying peacefully because there was no way they were ever going to get better. The life sustaining care you were forced to give was just prolonging the inevitable. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, Bradley tried to text you when he woke up at 5am for work to ask how your shift was going. You quickly responded that it was crazy and that you couldn’t talk until you got off at 7:30.

Bradley Bradshaw: Please tell me you’re out of there and able to see this incredible sun rise

You: I am, thank God! I love San Diego sunrises

“Who’s that?” Carly peered over at your phone and saw the name, “Oh my god! He’s checking in on you post shift?!”

You rolled your eyes, “It’s his second time checking in on me, he texted me when he got up earlier but I said things were too crazy on the unit to talk.”

“What happened between you two then?” She asked, “You said he didn’t stay the night or anything.”

You knew she was going to ask for more information soon enough. You two were on your feet caring for your patients all night so there was no time to catch up at the nurse’s station. “He didn’t. But we hung out for a while, talked, drank a lot of wine, and he couldn’t drive himself home. So he took an Uber and then took me to brunch when he came to pick up his car.”

“He didn’t kiss you?” She asked.

You shook your head, “Nope, didn’t after brunch either.”

“Huh,” she looked puzzled, “He’s obviously so into you, we could all see it at the bar. And he took you out on a date. And he’s texting you first thing when he wakes up… he obviously likes you. Why hasn’t he kissed you?!?!”

You shrugged, “I mean, maybe he isn’t and he just wants to be friends. I also feel like dating a former patient probably breaks some kind of nursing ethics code.”

It was something that occurred to you after brunch with Bradley the day before, the possibility of this flirtation messing with your professional life.

Carly’s face dropped when the two of you stopped at your car, “Oh my god… I hadn’t even thought of that.”

You shifted your weight uncomfortably, “Yeah… so I’ve gotta ask you and I’d like you to pass it on to Madi and Sam too, not to discuss Saturday or my… friendship with Bradley at work.”

She nodded, “Of course, I’m sorry I even brought it up briefly when we got on the unit last night.”

“It’s okay, no one was around to hear. I’m just not very well liked by the senior nurses and some of the providers. I just don’t want to give them something to talk about, you know?” You explained.

“Absolutely. When is your contract up?” She asked.

“4 weeks, they asked me to extend though.” You rubbed your eyes, desperately trying to stay awake.

“Are you gonna do it? Or is it too early in the morning to talk about this?” She giggled.

You nodded, “Bingo. Let’s leave this as ‘to be continued’.”

“Alright, get home safe.” She waved you off and headed towards her car a few spots away. 

Once in your Toyota Corolla and buckled, you blasted loud music and freezing cold AC to keep you awake and alert on your commute home. Once there you peaked at your phone.

Bradley Bradshaw: Now that you’ve enjoyed the sunrise, you gotta get your ass to bed.

You: Yes sir, I’ll be out of commission until 1500 hours.

When you arrived home, you looked at your phone again to see Bradley replied with the saluting emoji. You dragged yourself out of the car and up to your apartment, in front of your door was a plastic takeout bag. The parcel was still warm when you picked it up, it was clearly left there just minutes ago. You blinked through your exhausted blurry vision and saw a note typed in the comments on the receipt… it was from the same place you had brunch with Bradley two days before.

“After working through the night, you deserve a true Californian breakfast and a nap. —Bradshaw”

This may be one of the most thoughtful things anyone had done for you in a while. You were so exhausted, you didn’t realize how hungry you were until you caught a whiff of the parcel. When you entered your apartment, you threw your bag down and went straight to the kitchen. You opened the bag to find a breakfast burrito neatly wrapped in aluminum foil, Bradley’s go to menu item. Maybe it was because of the surprise of it waiting for you at the door or because you were absolutely starving, but that thing tasted better than sex. You started your post night shift ritual with a shower. After brushing your teeth, doing your skin care, and changing into comfy clothes, you drew the black out curtains in your room, turned on the sound machine, and set an alarm for 2pm before popping a melatonin gummy. After many years as a nurse and often flipping between days and nights, you had this sleep ritual down to an absolute science.

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █ 

Y/N <3: thank you so much for breakfast. That may be one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me.

Rooster’s heart fluttered when the message flashed across his phone around 8AM. The Dagger Squad had just finished running a drill that ended with 200 push ups. That small rush made him forget how his muscles were screaming at him. He went to reply and saw the “do not disturb” icon was on. He was so glad since that meant you were most likely sleeping. So he left a reply for you to wake up to.

Bradley: I’m glad it came just in time! Hope you’re taking the best nap ever :)

“Is that sexy nurse?” Natasha inquired as she peered over his shoulder.

Rooster rolled his eyes, “Phoenix, she has a name… and that’s none of your business.”

“So yes,” she smirked, “you are texting her.”

“I’m replying to her,” he corrected, “she worked all night last night and is on again tonight. So she won’t get it until she wakes up.”

She stood on her tip toes to get a better look at the screen, “You sent her breakfast?!?!”

Bradley was not loving this line of questioning but he knew he had to answer or Phoenix would never lay off, “I sent UberEats for her to come home too.”

“You are down bad, my friend.” She shook her head.

“Am not.” He quipped back.

“ Are too!” She shoved him.

“That’s not fair Phoenix, just cause you’re one of the boys doesn’t mean I’ll stoop low enough to shove a woman.” He groaned.

She chuckled, “You’re just scared to get your shit rocked, Bradshaw.”

Hangman suddenly appeared beside Phoenix, skillfully placing her in a headlock. “Is this little lady giving you trouble, Rooster?”

She squirmed and screamed, “Hangman, I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

“Ya know Phoenix,” he sighed, “Forever the bully.”

Phoenix reached over and Hangman a firm tap in the junk, causing him to jump and release her.

Rooster couldn’t help but smile as the two of them fought like siblings.

“I was asking him about the hot nurse from the other night.” She explained, “He’s texting her and sent breakfast to her place for her to come home to after work.”

Hangman’s face lit up, “Bradley, Bradley, Bradley… I never thought I’d see the day. You’re courtin’ a fine lady.”

Bradley rolled his eyes, “Courting is a strong word. I’m showing her that I’m… kinda interested.”

Hangman and Phoenix gave each other knowing looks.

Natasha nodded, “Uh huh, yeah. Sureeeeee.”

2pm rolled around and Bradley was wrapping up his work day on base.

Y/N <3: Not the best nap ever but pretty damn good. I’m gonna walk on the beach and get some sunshine before it’s back to the dungeon for the night. What are you up to for the rest of the day?

Should he shoot his shot? She wouldn’t keep engaging with him if she wasn’t at least a little interested, right?

Bradley: Joining you for a walk on the beach if you’ll allow it.

Y/N <3: I would love that. What time can you be at my place?

This was good. This was really good. She’s invited him back to her place. 

Bradley: I gotta change out of my uniform and stuff, how does 3 sound?

Y/N <3: Perfect, I’ll see you soon :)

Rooster had an extra skip in his step as he packed up his things, grateful for the 6am start allowing his work day to have an early finish. Once in his Bronco, he sped home to change into some casual clothes. He decided to really shake it up and not wear his usual Hawaiian shirt and jeans combo. A UVA t-shirt and some gym shorts seemed a lot more appropriate for a casual beach walk. Bradley really couldn’t believe he was putting that much thought into what he wore for something so casual. 

When he walked up to her door he could hear music through it. Whatever Y/N was listening to, she was clearly jamming. When he knocked, she quickly called out, “It’s open!”. He got a better listen to the music once the door was open, it was high energy with a… saxophone? It was kind of lit.

“What is this?” Bradley asked, “It’s awesome!”

“Modern Woman by Bleachers,” she entered the living room wearing a similar outfit to his, a university t-shirt and gym shorts, “Isn’t it great? Kinda gives me Springsteen vibes.”

He paused and listened a little more, “Yes, that’s spot on!”

“Let me just make sure I have my life together for work, so I can just change and leave later.” She said, heading toward the kitchen.

He took another good look at her as she took her lunchbox, water bottle, and an energy drink from the fridge and set it out on the counter. Fresh faced from her nap, hair in a bun, shorts and a t-shirt… he had never seen anything more beautiful.

Y/N paused for a moment and looked over at Rooster, “Is everything okay? Do I have something on my face?”  

He shook his head, “Yes, everything’s great… you look great.”

She smiled shyly and continued her task, “Thank you, Bradley… are you ready to head to the beach?”

“Hell yeah,” he asked, “which beach are we headed to?”

“Nothing fancy, just the beach a few blocks away.” She shrugged, “Hope you don’t mind tagging along on my normal, boring jaunt.”

He shook his head, “Y/N, nothing with you could be boring. I’d have fun watching paint dry.”

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The two of you walked along the shoreline; the waves ebbed and flowed across the sand and towards your feet. The wind whipped across your face and through your hair, making it dance wildly. Bradley looked so handsome beside you, you couldn’t help but stare and hope that maybe it would be less obvious since you had sunglasses on.

“I should start doing this more, it’s much more pleasant than running.” He chuckled to himself, “It’s so peaceful.”

You giggled, “Drinking bleach is more pleasant than running, in my opinion.”

“You’re not a runner?” He asked.

“Not unless something’s chasing me.” You quipped.

A smirk slowly crept across Bradley’s face. You weren’t exactly sure what was going through his head but you felt the sudden urge to start sprinting. Next thing you knew he was hot on your heels and you couldn’t help but giggle breathlessly, running on sand was so freaking hard! Two strong arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off your feet with ease.

“BRADSHAW!!!” You cried out through your giggles, leaning your head back on his shoulder behind you.

His face burrowed into your neck, “You say you’re not a runner but you’re pretty speedy.”

You turned your head to look at him, nose to nose, still giggling breathlessly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said simply.

It was like two magnets, your lips crashed into his, there was no force that could stop it. Once you realized what you did, you quickly pulled away, “I’m so sorry.”

He placed you gently back on your feet, “Y/N, the only thing you owe me an apology for is stopping.”

Your stomach fluttered, “Soooo… you wanna do it again?”

“Kiss me, you fool.” He chuckled, grabbing you by the cheeks and stroking them sweetly with his thumb.

You stepped closer so you two were chest to chest and gently brushed your lips against his. With a jolt of pure electricity, you pressed deeper into his kiss. It wasn’t until this moment, when you tasted his lips, that you realized how fucking starving you were.

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[zer0stratus]

Please Believe that this is Jamie Tartt

[somejazzinthemorning]

playing cupid.

Carlos Sainz x Reader [Warnings: Mentions of sex and some curse words. There are some inaccuracies, such as in this short story, Carlos has an apartment in Milan] Word Count: 9.7K

You're in this situationship with Carlos Sainz—no fuss, no drama, just sex. But then your dads become friends, and Sainz Sr., with a soft spot for you, decides to introduce you to his son, whom you've been... acquainted with for a while. To make things more interesting, he's on a mission to play Cupid, all while Carlos enjoys the thrill of keeping your little secret, playing along with his dad.

this was a request! always feel free to request and if i have some free time, I'll try to write something 🫶🏼

“Apparently, our dads met”, you say, rolling off Carlos's lap, still flushed and your breath ragged. The soft bed cushions your fall as you curl up beneath the deep blue blanket that usually adorns the foot of Carlos's bed, but this time is just part of the mess.

Carlos studies you with a faint frown, tousled hair spilling over his forehead. He looks incredibly handsome, basking in the afterglow of your encounter. If it weren’t for the late hour and your impending early morning, you would consider straddling him again. However, it’s nearly 2 a.m. and you need to be at the atelier by 9, so you just wish to sleep.

“Really?” There’s an undertone you don’t quite understand.

“What?”

"You just killed the mood.” He lays back on the bed and turns to face you. His hands seek out your shoulder, and his nimble fingers begin tracing delicate patterns on your skin, a clear indication that he’s not ready to let the night end just yet. “Mentioning my dad right after I cum inside you? Not exactly what I expect.”

“I just remembered it, and now I know you’ll get your hands off of me and let me sleep.”

“Oh, that’s not what I was expecting, as well.”

You pout, mocking him. “Poor you,” he rolls his eyes and falls dramatically against his pillow. “I’m just expecting a good night of sleep because some of us have work to do during the week and not just on weekends.” He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know that sometimes you work during the week.”

Carlos opens his mouth to retort, but he doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. In an instant, he sits up, looming over you, and seizes both your wrists, pinning them against the headboard. With his other hand, he's ready to tug the blanket over your form.

"Don't you dare tickle me, Carlos Sainz. Or I swear to God—"

"What are you going to do?" Carlos interrupts, his mischievous grin returning. As you lock eyes with him, you realize there's very little you can do, and oddly enough, you're entirely fine with that. Except,

"Spit in your face."

His playful smirk remains as he leans in closer, his voice a sultry whisper. "Spit in my face, huh?” he taunts, his fingers inching closer to your sides. “Think I’m going to risk it.”

"Sainz,” you squirm under his touch, desperately trying to maintain your composure. But he’s already grinning, and his fingers are approaching your sides. “I'm warning you..."

And suddenly, it's too late. He pounces, his fingers dancing across your sides, and you burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter, some of them louder than you expected them to be. Carlos knows all your ticklish spots, and he exploits them shamelessly. It’s been what…? Four months since you first slept together. By now he knows your body better than any guy ever did. And honestly, you’re not sure what to feel about that.

"Carlos, stop!" you manage to gasp between laughter, trying to wriggle free from his grip. It's a futile effort as he continues his relentless assault, determined to elicit every giggle and squeal he can from you.

Finally, he relents, his laughter joining yours as he releases your wrists. You pant for breath, your cheeks flushed from both the laughter and the earlier efforts. You take the opportunity to jump out of bed. “You’re the worst. I gotta pee.”

You disappear into the bathroom, to pee, clean yourself and try to comb your hair, and by the time you go back to the bedroom, you’re expecting him to be asleep. But you find him awake. His eyes shine brighter when you go through the door, and he watches you with a tender smile as you enter the bed and curl against him, fitting perfectly into his embrace.

The warmth of his body against you is comforting.

"I think I'll let you sleep now," he voices low in your ear, as he pulls over the comforter and covers you both.

"You better.”

Carlos's chest rises and falls rhythmically beneath your cheek as you nestle closer. You can hear the faint hum of his heartbeat, and it lulls you into a peaceful state. He smells like Bleu de Chanel and the lingering traces of your passion. With every breath, you inhale the essence of the man who has woven himself into the fabric of your life, in more ways than one.

Just as you're about to close your eyes and drift off to sleep, it hits you like lightning—the visit your mom mentioned, the whole reason you brought up his dad’s name.

You nudge Carlos gently, rousing him from his half-asleep state. "Just remembered something."

Carlos doesn’t even open his eyes. "Hmm?”

“My dad invited yours over,” you were not sure if you should be excited or nervous. Not for the visit itself, but for Carlos’ reaction to the idea of you meeting his dad.

After all, you had just been sleeping together, barely leaving your apartments, except for that one time he took you out to dinner, and that was probably because it was your birthday and perhaps Carlos would feel bad about just booty-calling you and ignoring the whole birthday thing.

“Well, that’s a nice way to introduce you to him.”

“What?”

Carlos just pressed you closer to him, like you weren’t practically glued together already. "It's okay, cariño. They’ll love you. Now sleep."

It all started at Milan Fashion Week when Carlos was representing Ferrari at an event. You were there, lurking in the shadows, taking in the magic of the fashion show. Your mentor had gotten you there, a favour you'll always be grateful for. There's a lot you can't remember about the event, about the whole night to be fair, but you remember the man awkwardly sitting in the front row. Fashion is not his thing, you thought. You kind of knew that. You kind of knew him.

He drives for Ferrari, he's handsome, he has a thick Spanish accent and hair I would pay to touch.

And that was more than enough to make you introduce yourself at the end of the show. From there, making out in a club took a little more than two hours. To his bed, just a little bit more than that.

You continued to see each other, booty-calling each other when you were feeling horny, bored, or just lonely. Your situationship was a good deal for both parties. No strings attached, which you enjoyed because you had little time and no patience to make any kind of effort to actually maintain a relationship. And Carlos, well... he was also busy as hell, so... all good. So you never went on dates, never needed to put on expectable amounts of makeup for over-the-top dresses. Except for your birthday, when he decided to take you out, and you had to make the effort. But that was your birthday.

Other than that, you would only leave your apartments to go get food at a 24-hour store or McDonald's. You remember that one time you wanted gelato and Carlos took you to his favourite place in Milan, but... other than that, it was just sex. Okay, just sex and marathons of Game of Thrones and House of The Dragon (that led to more sex) and some cooking too. You once taught him how to make your nana's lasagna and how a true Italian bruschetta is done. And a few days later, he cooked you his mom's carbonara—not a real carbonara, not at all. And, let’s be fair, he often brought you pizza from your favourite place in Milano and expensive bottles of wine.

But… “That’s a nice way to introduce you to him”?

You were not expecting that at all.

The idea lingered in your mind all night, and you woke up thinking about it too. You left his apartment while Carlos was still in the shower, just shouting goodbyes while you gathered your stuff and ran to the atelier. He would be out of town for a couple of weeks, away at some races, and you would have time to figure out how your parents met and when said visit was going to happen. All good.

Turns out you didn't have as much time as you thought.

That afternoon, your mom calls you, excitedly recounting their amazing trip to Canada and how much fun your dad had at the race. So, that was where they met. She also shares her plans about taking your brothers to Monza in a couple of months. You nod absentmindedly, your attention more focused on the magazine in front of you than on her words. It's often like this.

Your dad travels for work and actually works. He's a sports manager, deeply passionate about football and motorsports, especially Formula 1. Lately, he's been leaning more towards the latter, especially since he's contemplating retirement. On the other hand, your mom, an ex-model who married a well-off man, has chosen to focus on being a wife and a mother, a role she fulfils with dedication. So, when they’re back home, dad has work to do, contacts to keep and your mom has… well, more than enough time to tell you everything.

"And your dad and Sainz met at the golf course, you know?" your mom continues, her voice full of admiration. "A charming young man. He was golfing with his dad too. Your father had to tell them you refused to join him on the greens."

"In that, he's absolutely right."

"So, they kept talking. They even played together, I think. And he mentioned we were going to the race, and Sainz suggested he could call, and he'd arrange a garage tour. We met him at the paddock, but we ended up not getting the tour because there were already enough guests in there, but… Isn't he just amazing? And so incredibly handsome, piccina. So handsome."

You cringe inwardly at your mom's thirst for Carlos, unable to shake the image of her ogling your... friend. But you hum in response, unable to voice your discomfort because the next moment, she's raving about a dress she bought for you and the amazing designer she met in New York just before returning to Milan, and that topic steals all attention.

But just before she’s about to hang out, you remember why she called you in the first place.

“Mom, about the visit you mentioned? The dinner?” you interject and she chuckles; you can almost envision her rubbing her temples.

"Oh, silly me. I actually called you to discuss that," she sighs. "He's coming to visit us this weekend! You have to come home and meet him; he's really looking forward to getting to know you."

"Doesn't he race this weekend?"

"The young—Since when do you care about F1?"

"I don't. I just—” You quickly think of something, but you’re not quite sure if you want to tell your mother that you’ve been fucking Sainz. The younger one. Of course. “I saw something on Twitter."

"Oh, I see. Well,” she clicks her tongue. “It's his dad who's coming. Weren’t you listening? And his mom. We invited them both. Your dad wants to take him to the club and network a bit and you know… I’m always down for making friends and Reyes seems like a lovely woman. She wasn’t there, but I’ve heard about her around. Even her name is super elegant. Isn’t it?” Once again, you hum, frowning, thinking about the movie where you just found yourself in. “So, please, come home.”

“Noted. So, this weekend?”

“Yes. Do you need Dad to pick you up tomorrow after work?”

You move in your seat. “I’m just so busy with work right now, mom. The new collection and—” She cleans her throat and you just nod to the empty room. “Okay. Yes, please, tell Dad to pick me up.”

Of course, the second you hang up you text Carlos. He’s probably busy, it’s Thursday so he’s doing interviews or something, and, as you expected, he doesn’t reply to your text right away. Despite everything, he doesn’t take too long.

Not surprisingly, he’s very nonchalant about it all.

hot wheels guy: just tell them we know each other, no big deal hot wheels guy: and we’ll tell them more when i’m back

But, yeah… You can’t help but frown looking at the phone. He’s golfed with your dad, met your mom, met again with your dad and he’s not even feeling weird about it all?

you: hm? no? hot wheels guy: why not? you: you went golfing with my dad!!! hot wheels guy: and? hot wheels guy: how would i guess he was your dad? you: how many Y/LN do you think there are in milan? you: he told you he’s from milan!! there are not a lot of us in here hot wheels guy: do you have any idea of how many people i meet every weekend? you: 🙄 hot wheels guy: stop being a brat you: 🙄 hot wheels guy: i don’t see a problem in golfing with your dad hot wheels guy: is that supposed to be weird? you: YES !!!! hot wheels guy: stop being dramatic hot wheels guy: if they say anything, tell them you know me hot wheels guy: if they don’t, don’t you: they will hot wheels guy: so you know what to do

Friday’s dinner went exceptionally well, with conversations flowing effortlessly between food and wine, despite the inevitable sports-centric discussions that seemed to dominate the evening. Your brothers were beyond ecstatic to have Carlos Sr. as a guest in their home. They'd had their fair share of famous athletes sitting at the family table, but never had they been as excited as they were when Carlos Sr. entered the house. As a result, you found yourself somewhat on the sidelines, listening more than speaking throughout the meal.

And you were grateful for that.

The same didn’t happen on Saturday. Your dad took the morning to showcase some of your work and discuss your future prospects in the fashion industry with both Carlos and Reyes. In what you think was a gesture of gratefulness, Reyes displayed a lot of interest in your little atelier, located by the pool, in what used to be a shed for the gardener. So, you spent the morning around there, talking with them about fashion and business, and then joined them for lunch in one of your dad’s favourite restaurants.

Let's be fair, you have an extraordinary way with words and a charm that makes your mother proud. It was easy for you. By the time dinner came, you were already adored by the Sainzes. Without making an effort, you found yourself talking about art and travel, and letting Sainz Sr. explain to you the magic and the challenges of Dakar.

However, it isn’t until the next morning that you find yourself alone with him.

You both sat down for breakfast on the patio, and he’s now engrossed in reading the newspaper, while you’re drinking your cappuccino and doing your best to ignore the fact that the man sitting in front of you is, in essence, your… fuckbuddy’s dad.

There’s the usual “good morning” and the “hope you got some rest”, to which the guest always has some lovely comment to say about the bed, or the room, or the house in general. It’s an amazing guest house, you have to admit. And Sainz is no expectation. You exchange a couple of pleasantries and he’s back at reading the news, so you let your guard down.

Then, unexpectedly, Carlos Sr. turns his attention from the newspaper and directs it squarely at you. Grey eyebrows lifting at the same pace his eyes fill with a weird glint.

“I would love to introduce you to my son,” he says, and a faint frown tugs at your lips as words form in your throat, only to wither away unspoken. "I'm not implying anything," he says with a hint of amusement in his voice, "just that I believe the two of you would get along well."

You respond hesitantly, "Oh, I know him."

"I know you know him," he laughs, and you realise that something might have gotten lost in translation because when he talks again he says, "But what I mean is that you should meet. I'll make sure to introduce you two next time we're all in town."

And well, you feel too embarrassed to correct him, so you just smile and mumble an “I can’t wait. Excuse me”, before getting up from the table and sprinting up to your room.

you: great news. your dad wants to introduce us you: what do i do?

He takes a couple of hours to text back.

hot wheels guy: why didn’t you tell him you know me already? you: i tried to!

The next time you’re all in town happens one week and a half from there, when Carlos is finally back in Italy after a few races and a couple of days in Madrid. And, because the universe is a pain in the ass, you’re swarmed with work to the point you’ve been falling asleep right after dinner, even before the time Carlos usually rings you up.

It’s a terrible schedule.

You’ve been waking up at 5 am to be by the seamstress at 7, to have some work ready to show at 9 am, between your mentor’s arrival at the atelier and the time he leaves for some meeting or brunch with models somewhere in Milan. Somehow, during that interval, he has time to break your work to pieces, destroying it (and destroying you in the process) with criticism. Critique leaves you on the verge of tears, and by the end of the day, you’re a mess—stressed, irritable and utterly exhausted. Not to mention the ever-present sexual frustration, with vivid dreams of a certain Spaniard leaving you hot and bothered in your sleep.

The perfect recipe for a restless night.

Apparently, Carlos got to Milan on Wednesday, because that night you woke up at midnight on your couch, a half-empty glass of wine by your side, your unfinished sketches scattered before you and three missed calls from Carlos, accompanied by a series of texts. Thursday, the same happened. The texts were nothing too dramatic, just variations of “u up?”, “cmon its 10 pm”, and “you can’t be asleep”.

On both days, in your half-sleep haze, you manage to reply as you shuffle your way to your bedroom something similar to “sory, talktomorrw”.

And then Friday arrives, and your calendar pings with the reminder that in one hour your dad will be picking you up for dinner. You’re sitting on your vanity and already dreading the day your dad decided to go to Montreal.

You’re not feeling it.

Firstly, you have to slather on a ton of make-up just to feel decent. Your dark circles are as pronounced as ever, you’re skin is pale and your acne is acting up, probably all due to the lack of sun, sleep, rest of any food that isn’t reheated pizza or store-bought noodles.

So, yes, the prospect of dinner and being introduced as Carlos’ whatever doesn’t exactly lift your spirits.

The anticipation gawns at you as you finish getting ready. You can’t shake the feeling of unease, a nagging doubt that you’re about to step into a situation that might be more than you signed up for. Carlos’ dad seems nice enough, and his mom absolutely adores you, but this is different, especially because his dad is expecting to introduce you and well… you’re way past that.

As you stare at your reflection, you take a deep breath and remind yourself that this isn't just about you. Your brothers are looking forward to meeting Carlos, and your dad seems genuinely excited about his friendship with his dad. So, you summon a smile, albeit a forced one, and decide to make the most of this evening, even if you're not entirely sure what to expect.

Yeah. Scratch that. The dinner is about you.

As you approach the restaurant, a different sense of anticipation washes over you. It feels like a scene from a movie where you're about to meet an arranged husband. The Sainz family stands by the door, engaged in lively conversation. Reyes waves at you when she sees you making your way to them.

Your eyes naturally gravitate toward Carlos. Firstly, because you kind of miss him. It’s been a while since you last saw him and there’s no point in looking for comfort somewhere else, so you are, let's say… slightly needy. And secondly, because he’s clad in a baby blue button-up and pristine white pants. A vision. You're only human, after all, with eyes and perhaps a few too many hormones.

In summary: You’re fucked. Dinner will be fun.

From your back and close to your ear, a whisper arises. “Be nice,” your mom says. As you turn to her, her lips are curling into a wide smile. “Carlos! Reyes! Such a delight to see you both again. And, Carlos,” she turns to the younger one, “it’s an absolute pleasure to finally see you in a more personal environment.”

You take a deep breath.

Your brothers, bursting with energy, practically race each other to get to Carlos, almost taking you down in the process. He skillfully engages them in conversation, a grin playing on his lips, until your mom intervenes.

"Now, now, boys. You'll have plenty of time to chat," she chuckles. Your mom swiftly moves your overeager brothers and offers an apologetic smile to Carlos. "Apologies, they're just excited.”

“No problem,” he says, in Italian, something he doesn’t do often when he’s alone with you. He claims he still needs to learn dirty talk in Italian. You love to teach him by whispering it into his ear. More than that, you love watching his face as he slowly grasps their meaning.

Your dad, then, approaches him for a way-too-manly handshake, but a warm smile reigns on his lips. “Carlos, great to see you again.”

“Thank you, sir. Likewise.”

In the meantime, you went to Reyes. She graced you with a compliment, a kiss on the cheek and the promise to visit your atelier in the near future. Then, it’s time for her husband, and you’re already wearing your best smile because that man is beaming as he’s watching you.

“My dear,” after two kisses on the cheeks, he slightly turns to Carlos. “So nice to see you again. Son,” he calls, and Carlos turns to you, his smile radiant, his eyes sparkling under the warm, ambient lights of the restaurant. “Let me introduce you to Y/N.”

"You're even more beautiful than my mom described," he remarks, his words catching you off guard. You manage to suppress the urge to roll your eyes, opting instead for a faint smile. “My dad has shared so much about you. Couldn’t wait to meet you.”

A surge of mixed emotions washes over you. On one hand, there's a twinge of frustration that he didn't tell his family about your connection, correcting your mistake and saving you from embarrassment. Yet, as his adoring gaze meets yours, it's hard not to be swept away by his warm compliments.

“Oh,” you murmur, feeling something shift inside you. Your own words surprise you, leaving you momentarily at a loss. "Thank you. Likewise."

Unknown to you, you echo almost exactly what Carlos had just said to your dad. The similarity draws a chuckle from Senior, who seems to find the exchange quite entertaining. Carlos chuckles as well and motions to the restaurant with his head.

“Should we?”

As the evening progresses, you can't help but steal glances at Carlos when you think no one is looking. You catch his eye occasionally, and he responds with subtle winks and sly smirks that send shivers down your spine. It's almost like a secret language only the two of you understand. He’s sitting in front of you, of course.

“Piccina,” your mom calls. “Why don’t you tell Carlos about your job?”

With a smile, you turned to face Carlos. He raises his eyebrows in curiosity, and you have to take a second before answering. He’s no stranger to your job. Not at all. Sometimes he even lands a helping hand, providing some foot massages while you’re working through tight deadlines and he doesn’t take “no” for an answer when he asks if he can come over.

So you simply say, “I’m a fashion designer.”

“Oh,” it’s the polite oh, not the filled-with-curiosity one. You know he’s about to say something stupid when his tongue peeks through his lips and the corner of his lips starts raising, moulding his mouth in a smirk. “So you just play dress-up for a living?”

Laughter bubbled up from one of your brothers, earning him a scolding look from your mom. They’re just nine, which makes them fifteen years younger than you. Fondly referred to as "an accident" by your parents, they were the light of your life, even if they were quite the whirlwind.

“And you, Carlos, you just play with cars on the weekends?” Carlos's eyes gleamed with mischief as he looked down, a chuckle escaping him. Sr. Carlos wore a pleased smile, and a delightful warmth settled in your belly.

"Some might find it hard to believe, but we do manage to squeeze in some actual work during the week," Carlos chimed in, earning a laugh from you. "Have you ever been to a race?”

“No, and I don’t intend to.”

"The boys are the true racing enthusiasts,” your dad chimes in. “The girls prefer to stay at home, or walk around when we travel for a Grand Prix.”

Turning to you, Carlos's eyes danced with mischief. You remembered a previous conversation where he'd tried to persuade you to attend the Italian Grand Prix, just a few weeks away. Wanting to stop him, because he’s so predictable that you just know what he’s about to say, you try to change the subject.

“Talking about races, are you playing on doing Dakar again next year, Signore?”

Carlos dismisses your question right away. "I think your perspective might change once you experience a Grand Prix firsthand.”

And this time, Carlos Sr. joins him. "Why not extend an invitation for them to visit the garage? I'm sure the kids will love the opportunity. And, Y/N, I’m sure you’ll find it all exciting. You seem like a curious girl.”

Carlos beamed. "Consider this an invitation. I can't wait to have you all there.”

Your brothers practically have a collective stroke, their young minds struggling to process the idea of visiting Carlos in the garage. As for your dad, despite his time in the paddock, had never had the chance to visit the Ferrari garage, so, despite keeping his composure, you know how much it means to him—he’s undeniably the most fervent tifoso you'd ever known.

With a grateful smile, you spoke up. "That's incredibly kind of you. Thank you.”

Carlos leans comfortably against his Alfa Romeo parked in easy reach of your dad’s Audi. Your brothers are sleeping in the back seat, while your parents conclude their chat. They’re getting along well, which is weird but comforting to some degree.

You shoot Carlos a serious glance. “How much longer are you going to keep up with this little thing you started?”

“Me? May I remind you that you were the one who didn’t tell him we met?” You roll your eyes at his words and grab the door knob. “Wait. Don’t you see he’s trying to set us up?”

“And?”

“Play along. Let him have it.”

There's a moment of silent understanding, the shared secret between you adding an extra layer of intimacy. Despite it all, you crack a smile.

“You’re so childish.” You say. “You’ll be the one who’s gonna tell him.”

“I’ll tackle that when we get there,” Carlos assures. And slowly, a playful glint shines in his eyes. “Should I swing by your place on my way home?”

“No way. I have work tomorrow, a lot of work to do and I can’t afford to be tired to do it.”

He tilts his head thoughtfully. “You can stay at mine, then. And I could drive you to work. It’ll give you an extra thirty minutes of sleep.”

You chuckle, impressed by his attention to detail. “You don’t even know where I work.”

“Of course, I do,” he assures.

That’s new. “Well,” you take a deep breath and discreetly hand him over your apartment keys. “I won’t ring the bell because the old lady on my floor will listen and I think she’s spying on me. I’ll call when I’m there.”

As you're about to bid him goodnight, your dad's voice calls out from a distance, catching Carlos's attention. He waves warmly and flashes a friendly smile, which Carlos mimics.

“Golf on Sunday?” your dad asks.

Carlos's eyes light up with enthusiasm. “Absolutely! Can't wait!”

You can't help but interject, “Golfing with my dad, again? What the heck are you doing?”

Carlos grins. “Finding a golfing partner, since someone here,” he gestures playfully at you, “refuses to join me. And unfortunately, my dad isn't always around in Italy to tag along.”

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation. “Alright, Sainz. Nice to meet you. See you soon.”

He drives you to work and to your surprise, he actually knows where that is. How? You can’t tell. Apparently, he also remembers that you bring breakfast for your mentor on Saturdays because just before he drops you off, he offers to join you for a few minutes, just to pick up breakfast with you.

“Since you’ve got no time to eat with me, I’ll just tag along and annoy you for ten minutes more.”

You let him enter the coffee shop with you and he hovers on your back while you order two moccas and two brownies to go with it. Your mentor is not picky, and this Saturday breakfast tradition only started because you wanted to thank him for granting you a few hours from his weekend to help you with your designs. Technically, it’s not work, but it’s just as demanding.

You can feel Carlos’ breath against your hair, and the faint smell of his cologne, still hanging in his shirt from the previous night. This morning, the buttons are undone, and the sleeves are folded up. His hair is tousled and his beard is imperfect. Yet he’s the most handsome man around.

“First time picking up breakfast together,” he says as you’re walking towards the door. “Is this the equivalent to marriage in your dictionary?”

“Don’t make me regret all the past decisions I’ve made.”

“Hm,” he hums, tilting his head. “What could I possibly make you regret?”

“Simply the fact of accepting to be introduced to you,” You let an exaggerated sigh leave your lips. “I’m living the nightmare all over again.”

Just before leaving a kiss on your cheek, he whispers. “Didn’t sound like a nightmare when I made you come thrice last night, baby. But go off.” He then kisses you on the cheek. “Have a good day.”

Carlos is too busy that night, and your Sunday is reserved for a family gathering. By Monday, you're back to your routine of nodding off right after dinner, so by the time Tuesday arrives, you’re already missing him. Not him—just his body in your bed, the sensation of his thick lips sliding down your navel and the sound of your name rolling off his tongue, wrapped up in that beautiful deep Spanish accent of his. You know he’s driving next weekend, so you spend all Wednesday staring at your phone, trying to summon a text from him.

When it finally pings, around 5 pm, it’s from your dad.

papà: heading to squash in an hour. up for a game? papà: no use in saying no papà: you already missed two weeks you: 🙄🙄🙄 you: i’ll meet you there!

You were the one who introduced your dad to squash, and gradually, it evolved into a bonding activity for both of you. Words don't flow easily with him, and you’re not great at demonstrating feelings so it’s difficult to connect with your dad. On top of that, you moved out really early. Slowly squash became a great way to connect and have quality time with him, release some steam, and stay in shape.

“I’m surprised. You never mentioned that you play squash,” a voice chimes in from behind, and you can't help but let out a sigh when you turn around.

It's Carlos, donned in a stupidly tight turquoise shirt that perfectly hugs and draws the contour of his chest, and sporting the briefest shorts you've ever seen him wear. He smiles. He knows he looks hot.

“How could I?” You reply, trying to not showcase how weak your knees just turned. “We only met like… five days ago.”

Carlos chuckles. “You’re funny. Did I tell you that yet?”

“Hmmm. You haven’t had the chance, yet.”

Sainz Sr. approaches you both, moving at a leisurely pace, absorbed in his phone. When he looks up, his frown disappears and an adoring smile takes his lips. His hand rests on his son’s shoulder as he remarks, “Didn’t I tell you today would be a perfect day for a match?”

Carlos turns to you, raising an eyebrow. "You did. What a coincidence.”

"Indeed," you chime in. "May I challenge you, sir? My dad’s still on a call and I have no partner."

“Oh, Carlos can join you,” he suggests with a nod in Carlos’ direction. “I’ll wait for your dad. We have some matters to discuss. Carry on, you two.”

Of. Course.

As the two of you step onto the squash court, the competitive glint in Carlos' eyes is hard to miss. And the tension in the air is palpable, you feel it in your bones. But you take a deep breath and push it aside, focusing on the game ahead.

"Why the sudden cold shoulder?" Carlos inquires as you prepare to start.

You glance at him, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm getting radio silence from you—no calls, no texts. You're not picking up my calls, either. What’s going on?"

You roll your neck, trying to ease the tension. Yesterday you just collapsed onto your couch, once again. You were living in survival mode. And wouldn’t be there playing if it wasn't a long-standing tradition with your dad.

"Work's been keeping me busy," you shrug.

It's not entirely a lie. But it’s not totally true either.

Let’s see—you've been involved in this situationship for almost five months now, seeing each other sporadically, sometimes even daily, if Carlos is in Milan. Yet, it's all so casual. You can recall the day he mentioned introducing you to his parents, of course. As a matter of fact, that talk has been looping in your mind for the last few days, but… it was a joke. Right? Sure it was. Why would he want his parents to meet his... whatever?

You could have texted him earlier. You would have texted him a few weeks ago, before all this. You can’t quite figure out why you’re panicking and why you’re behaving like a rom-com character, but you are.

"Come on, that excuse won't stick with me."

“Too bad. Can we play?" You grip the racket, twirling it in your hands. You look back, at his dad sitting on the benches, watching you from afar. “Please?”

He lets out a sigh and nods. Finally, you think.

"Is this a date?" he asks, grabbing a ball from his shorts and meeting your gaze.

"No." You're firm, and once again, he frowns. "It's not. For one, you didn't invite me. We just happened to both be here. It's coincidental.” He laughs here, slightly tilting his head back. You both know it is not coincidental. “And two, that's not what we're doing."

He cracks a smile, almost teasing. "So, what are we not doing?"

"The dating thing. We're not dating."

"Aren't we?" He smirks, his tongue peeking out, licking his lips.

You shake your head. "Nope."

"Alright, cool. Just wanted to be clear on that," Carlos replies with a nonchalant shrug, though you detect a glimmer of amusement in his voice. He’s as annoying as he’s pretty.

The first serve is swift and precise. The sound of the ball hitting the wall reverberates through the court. You dive into the game, putting your all into each movement. It's a dance of strategy and agility. You’re exhausted, but you put on a fight, using banter as your weapon. On the outside, your parents are watching, and you can’t help but notice Sainz Sr. is thoroughly enjoying this.

Sweat starts to bead on your foreheads, but neither of you shows any sign of slowing down. He wants to win and well… you want to make him lose. As you play, you steal glances at Carlos, his concentration evident in the set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes, in the curse words he whispers under his breath, ones that frustration draws from him. You’ve heard them before. Oh, God, you’ve heard so much worse. But it all combined? This is a side of him you haven't seen before, and it's exhilarating.

After a particularly intense rally, Carlos manages to secure a point with a deftly placed shot. He smirks, clearly pleased with himself. "You're not making this easy," he remarks.

You grin, determined. "Wouldn't want to go easy on you, now, would I?"

The court echoes with the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the thud of the ball hitting the walls. Time seems to blur as you lose yourself in the rhythm of the game. He makes you laugh and shout insults in his direction, to which he laughs.

Finally, after a hard-fought match, Carlos clinches the victory. It's a close call, and you’re about to pass out. It’s a shitty mixture of disappointment and pride. Leaning against the wall of the court, you try toth catch your breath.

"You're pretty good at this," Carlos admits, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel.

"Yeah, well, I have to stay in shape to keep up with you," you quip.

He chuckles, "Am I that demanding?"

"Am I that demanding?" You repeat, forcing a Spanish accent and a deep voice. He chuckles and stands up straight. "Did your dad tell you to come here today?"

"Yes. For some reason, he really likes you. Like I told you he would."

You can't help but chuckle at Carlos's words. "Well, he’s certainly enjoying playing cupid. But hey, fun game.”

Carlos nods a genuine smile on his face. "Yeah, it was. Finally got to see you outside the flat. It's quite weird to see you with clothes at this point."

"Oh, God, you're such a prick."

He laughs, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Can I drop by later today?"

You glance toward your parents, who are engaged in a lively conversation, and then back at Carlos.

"No. Early morning tomorrow. And I still have work to finish today.” You’re not lying to him, you’re lying to yourself. Even when he’s looking at you with puppy eyes, you don’t go back with your words. Instead, you stand up straight and fix your hair. “Should I expect to coincidently meet you somewhere else in the next few days?"

You know the answer to that question. You know he’s going to be away for two weekends. And you kinda know he knows you know, because when he answers, there’s the faintest smile on his lips.

"I'll be off for two weeks. Hungary and Belgium.”

"Good luck at those, then.”

“Really appreciate it.”

Yeah, so…. That night, Carlos texted you. Not a casual “u up?”, but a “it was so fucking unfair to see you in that skirt and not being able to fuck you in it” and naturally you couldn’t help but to let out an exasperated groan and promptly respond with a “come over.” So, twenty minutes later you were being screwed against your kitchen counter.

And now you’re on the couch, his head buried between your legs, eating you up like a starved man. Yes. You need to be fit to keep up with this man’s stamina. He’s that demanding. But you can’t complain.

It’s been like this. A lot of pleasure. And then a lot of peace of mind.

Afterwards, he reclines on the chaise lounge, scrolling through TV channels, looking for something remotely bearable. You go get your sketch notebook and use his torso as a pillow. He watches tv and you work, until sleep creeps over you and you fall asleep in his arms.

Five months of this. You can’t put a label on it, but you can’t imagine living without it.

Carlos only wakes you up to take you to bed, and that night he sleeps over, sprawled across your bed like a starfish, leaving you clinging to him to not fall over. In the morning, you make out in bed, lazy and sleepy. He fucks you in the shower, and then he’s off again. He texts you when he's at the airport, and once more when he lands in whichever country he's racing in. Meanwhile, you carry on with your everyday life—a bit more mundane than being fuckbuddies with a Scuderia Ferrari driver but just as busy.

As it became regular, you exchange a few texts while he's away. It's become a ritual—complimenting him on how handsome he looks after his sessions, and him requesting a selfie so he can return the favour. He sends you snapshots of random things that made him think of you, and if truth be told, you do the same. You share selfies as you stroll by the Ferrari store in Milan and send him memes (which sometimes require a brief explanation). Without fail, he sends you a good morning and a good night, and whenever you're awake, you make sure to reply.

And life happens for those two weeks.

It’s boring. It’s dull. It’s ordinary.

And then on a Monday evening your bell rings and you can’t help but leave your apartment and wait for him on the landing, right in front of the elevator, not caring if your neighbour is watching through the peephole.

“Missed me?” he quips, already unburdening himself of his backpack as he steps out of the elevator. Sunglasses perched atop his head, skin kissed by the sun, eyes wide like the moon. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen.

“Never,” you jest, but it's a flimsy façade, quickly shattered as you pull him close, urgency coursing through you.

Damn, you've missed him. You crave him.

And he craves you too. He's straightforward in showing it.

After you both shower, you settle on the couch. You ask him about why he had two races that weekend and he teases you because you finally demonstrate an interest in F1, and only then, after you’re insulting him and threatening to not go to Monza, he actually explains to you how a sprint weekend works, but he’s being so nerdy and so adorable and his eyes are sparkling so much that you just get back in his lap and ride him again, but this time slower, and more passionate, like you’re feeling something materialise inside you. And you come on his lap, and he kisses you slowly, and you tell him you actually missed him.

For dinner, you agree on sushi and night falls while you’re watching The Office for the only-God knows-how-many time, curled up in each other and drinking wine.

Apparently, there’s a mandatory period of vacations in F1 and unfortunately, it doesn’t match your own. So, Carlos is away with friends and family, in boats and islands in the Mediterranean, and you’re torn between Roma, Venice and Milan, assisting in campaign photoshoots.

Your days are long, exhausting and you’re tired and wishing you could be suntanning somewhere in Greece, but you’re sitting on a train, pushing small talk with your colleagues so you won’t fall asleep and drool over yourself.

Until a notification pops up on your phone, and you drop everything you’re saying because there’s a small chance that is a photo from Carlos, or some text, or just a reminder of his existence. You mentally slap yourself. When did you get that dependent?

But it’s just an email. And it’s from your mom.

You frown.

She doesn’t usually use email. Nor is interested in art galleries in Madrid.

You read through the details and you notice something interesting. The invitation has been forwarded from none other than Carlos Sainz Sr. And it makes you laugh. You take a screenshot that you send to Carlos.

you: so, your dad's moonlighting as an art promoter now? did you fire him? hot wheels guy: seems like it. he said he was going to invite you hot wheels guy: and no, i didn’t fire him primarily because he doesn’t work for me you: well it actually does sound interesting hot wheels guy: so you’re coming? you: perhaps hot wheels guy: it’s a good chance for you to meet my sisters you: don’t you have like a dog for me to meet, too? hot wheels guy: two, piñon and oil hot wheels guy: oli is a really jealous girl. i doubt she will like you you: looking forward to meet them. and your sisters too, of course hot wheels guy: and about me? you: i already met you twice. don’t need another introdution

One week later, you’re in Madrid. Sainz Sr. arrives home while you’re talking with Reyes in the kitchen, while she cooks gazpacho for lunch. Oli is in your lap, licking your cheek as your fingers get lost in the small white waves of her fur.

“Hope you get here easily. Did you take an Uber?” Sainz says right after gracing you with a small hug and two polite kisses on the cheeks. Before paying, he also leaves a pat on Oli’s head.

“Carlos picked me up at the airport, actually.”

A pleased smile creeps across Sainz Sr.'s face, like a child in a candy shop. He glances over at Carlos, who's lounging on the couch, a few meters from you.

“She’s a guest.” He points out. You didn’t even realise he was listening to your conversation. You wonder if he was listening to what you and Reyes were saying before. “I wouldn’t have let her take an Uber.”

“You’re getting along well,” the dad points out. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

Between the art and the hushed corridors of the gallery, you often find yourselves alone. A stolen kiss in the quiet garden, where the fragrance of blooming flowers mingles with the electric charge between you. And then another, amidst the art, when the room empties and you’re left in the silence of creativity, where the only beauty that matters is reflected in the depths of his eyes.

He holds your hand and listens to your explanations about art and strokes and colour theory. And he calls you a nerd. Of course, he does. And you laugh and look at each other, and kiss again, not caring if there’s someone around.

When you come back home, his sisters and parents are still in the living room, so you sit with them, still wearing your cocktail dress and Carlos still looking gorgeous in his tuxedo. You picked up churros on your way home, so you’re just basking in the serenity and the domesticity of it all. Conversations flow effortlessly, laughter weaving through the air. You share stories, revealing snippets of your lives to his family, like they’re slowly becoming yours.

Ana. Blanca. Oli. Reyes. Carlos. And your Carlos, who looks at you with a warmth in his eyes that is capable of melting every cell of your body.

You can get used to this.

You only spend one night in Madrid. You sleep over at the Sainz’s—Reyes didn’t let you consider a hotel, so she prepared one of the guest rooms in advance. Surprisingly, it’s not the first time you and Carlos sleep under the same roof without having sex, but it’s the first time you do so in separate beds. And you feel restless. You lay in bed, your gaze fixed on the wall as if by sheer will, it will become transparent and grant you a view of him sleeping—the contours of his face softened in serenity, his lashes grazing his cheekbones.

According to Google, Autodromo Nazionale Monza is exactly 39 minutes away from your flat by car. Which isn’t a lot.

You’re not sure what to wear, or what’s exactly going to happen.

It’s Friday. It’s his birthday. He looks gorgeous in the photos that everyone is posting. You just need to get to the track, meet your parents and take your family to the garage. It’s as simple as that.

But you haven’t seen Carlos for more than a week, and the idea of finally seeing him is consuming you.

So you dump your worries in your wardrobe. You search for the few Ferrari pieces you have in your closet and you put out an outfit, and make-up and pretend you’re just going to an event you know nothing about. Because that’s almost the case.

Between the small crowd and the electric atmosphere and the midst of the symphony of roaring engines, you spot your parents and your brothers—their eyes wide with wonder. They’re donning Ferrari shirts and hats, each one with a different number on their clothes.

This blend of family and racing feels strangely comforting.

There’s a guy waiting for you by the entrance, with your passes. You follow him. He asks about the ride to the circuit, if it's your first time, and you can actually relieve some of the anticipation with that small talk. But you’re taking so long.

The corridor leading to the garages seems to stretch endlessly, each step an eternity.

"He's in the garage, preparing for the session. You'll have to be quick," the man informs you, but his words are mere background noise. All that matters is Carlos, and he's waiting. That's all you need.

Stepping into the garage, the noise amplifies. It's a chaotic dance of technicians and engineers, each absorbed in their tasks. You scan the frenetic scene, searching for him, but his absence is louder than the noise.

“Carlos must be arriving. Boys,” he drops to your brothers. “Want to see the car up close?”

Of course, they say yes, and they follow the man. Your dad tags along and your mother? Well, she’s apparently very interested in the sport, as well.

The first Sainz you see is Carlos’ cousin, to whom you’ve been not introduced yet, but who quickly recognizes you. You introduce yourself, and he chuckles and you say you’re “Carlos’ friend”. And then Sainz Sr. appears, with Carlos right beside him, talking to a tall skinny guy.

And God. He’s a vision in that damned racing suit.

Time seems to slow as he approaches, and when he turns to you, his eyes light up with a radiant smile. The world fades away.

“Happy birthday,” is all that occurs to you.

And a “thank you for being here,” is all that he can say before being dragged away to the screens.

This time it isn’t Reyes or Sainz Sr., but Carlos who invites your family for dinner. It's an offer you simply can't refuse, and even though your brothers are practically nodding off from fatigue, the moment they step inside the Hotel de la Ville, and notice where they are, exhaustion seems to magically dissipate.

The entire day was amazing, but you’ve barely had a chance to be near Carlos. So, as he finally takes his seat across from you, the desire to kiss him simmers just beneath your skin, burning you whole. He's clad in his signature red shirt, his unruly hair falling playfully over his forehead. And he’s wearing white jeans, which makes the colour of his tanned skin intensify.

Caught in the act of admiring him, you see him move his eyebrows. You roll your eyes and swiftly adjust your position in the chair, refocusing on your dads’ intense discussion about the latest football market moves.

“Piccina,” your mother chimes in. “You never told me about the Madrid trip. The gallery. Was it nice?”

You glance at your mother and then at the whole table. Carlos has that playful twinkle in his eyes, clearly anticipating to hear you stutter as you try to talk about the exhibition. Well, you did pay attention to the art, of course, but what remains in your mind is the way Carlos’ eyes always managed to drift to you, no matter which room you were in.

“It was beautiful, Mom,” you reply, offering her a warm smile. “I’ve already told Carlos how grateful I am for the invite.” At the head of the table, Sainz Sr. smiles at you, with a simple yet approving nod. “The other Carlos tagged along with me. He got to learn a lot about art. Right, junior?”

Carlos leans to you, propping his elbows on the table, a trace of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I have to admit, you managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting."

Thankfully, Sainz Sr.'s hearty laughter momentarily steals everyone's attention, giving you a chance to regain your composure. Your cheeks are warm, and from the feeling of them, you know they’re red. You managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting. And he smiles, because he knows you badly you’re falling.

"Well, that's impressive,” your dad chimes.

And you're not sure if he's complimenting Carlos's smooth line or your ability to be a guide. So you ignore him and try to play it cool.

“So,” your mom continues, her hand resting on your arm, her curiosity fully piqued. "You two spent a good time together in Madrid?"

You share a subtle glance with Carlos before nodding. "Yes, we did. It was a great exhibition."

A brief hush falls over the table and you can’t help but feel like you’re under a microscope and everyone can see through you. Carlos’ gaze, steady and unwavering, is locked onto you, and you feel yourself softening, captured in his attention.

“Well,” Sainz Sr., who's been quietly observing, interjects with a warm smile. "It seems like you two have been getting along quite well."

Carlos chuckles and looks down, his fingers lightly tapping the rim of his glass. You both exchange a quick look, a silent understanding passing between you.

It’s time.

"Actually," you start, "we've been getting along really, really well."

Reyes leans in. "Oh? Do tell."

“We’ve been…” You hesitate, glancing at Carlos for support.

He meets your gaze. “Dating,” he completes your sentence with a confident smile. “We’ve been dating for a while now. Six, seven-ish months?”

Sainz Sr.’s eyes light up, and then he furrows his brows, clearly processing the information. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch the gears turning in his mind.

“That’s before—way before I… introduced you.”

“In my defence,” you chime in. “I did try to tell you we’ve already met before. Blame your son. He’s the one who decided to play with you for so long.”

“Well, this is… wonderful news.” Sainz Sr. beams. You steak a glance at Carlos, knowing he’s definitely going to tease you about how genuinely pleased you looked after revealing the truth. “So, seven months, eh? Okay. When’s the wedding? And when do I get Carlos the 3rd?”

I had so much fun writing this one!!! I used every little break at work to write this. It's a bit different than what I usually write, so all feedback is appreciated. Thank you for the request! 🫶

[zoozoozvie]

Three in the bed, two might be cryin'

((it looks like geto's saying he's wet lmao i'm so sorry)

pairing: Satoru/Suguru/Reader ⚣ ⚤ 2k words

content: female anatomy used for the reader. reader is called "good girl". lots of dirty talk towards the end. teasing. squirting. creampie. this got dirtier the more i wrote. suguru fucks satoru and then fucks you.

unsafe sex - putting things in a vagina after anal is Not Good so I tried to remedy it with sugu taking off a condom but it probably still isn't a good idea ♡♡but it's fiction and I say you're ok♡♡

Satoru looks beautiful.

You know that, he knows that, and if you ever admitted it he'd probably act all cool and strut around. Open his big mouth and say “Do you know how whipped you sound for me, baby?"

But now, seeing him hovering over you, a blissed-out mess. You've finally witnessed what true beauty is. Screw the beholders and their eyes, the crystal blue ones peering into your soul are the only ones that matter anyway.

Seeing Satoru Gojo being fucked within an inch of his life could be the very reason you're still sane.

A deft hand skims down Satoru's hip to take hold of his leaking cock, stroking slowly and squeezing hard at the tip, just the way he likes it. A moan is ripped from Satoru's throat. The handsome face of Suguru peers over his shoulder to catch your eye. He is smirking as he squeezes Satoru on the downstroke again.

"Nnngh, Sugu, why do you gotta be so fuckin mean." Satoru slurred.

The man behind him chuckled, "Am I being mean?" He withdrew his hand to place it back on Satoru's hip, fingers digging in to hold him still as the pace of their hips picked up.

"Ugghh, yes. You are," Satoru gasps, "won't even let me in this fucking pussy..." his ramblings turned into nonsense against your chest.

The loud pat, pat, pat of their hips made you squirm. Desperate after waiting and watching them go at it. 

When you first entered your bedroom, Satoru laid you on your back and licked you open as Suguru prepared him. The both of you whined when Suguru dragged him up and away from where he was pleasuring you with his hair, hovering over you with your legs resting on his hips. 

"Hold yourself open," Suguru directed.

You had been quicker, reflexively reaching down and spreading Satoru’s plump, muscular ass cheeks. His hips gave a cocky little wiggle as he chuckled, "This better?"

Suguru whistled, "Not what I was expecting, but good girl."

Unexpectedly, Suguru didn’t allow Satoru to fuck you as he took the man for himself. You were ready to make a fuss, but that was before you were witness to the beautiful men above you. He put his hands over yours as he pressed into Satoru, smoothing up and down Satoru’s back and your legs to give him time to adjust before fucking his hips at an erotic tempo.

If you're sane because of Satoru's beauty, surely Suguru Geto will be the reason you lose your mind.

Now Satoru's dick swings over your sex as they rock, the tip sometimes hitting your folds or tapping your clit. Teasing to no end. Suguru put him in a mean arch to stop his attempts from thrusting into you. 

Satoru chokes out a wheeze at the change, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, lemme, lemme..."

"Oh, I think he's close darling." Suguru smirks, violet eyes hungry. He sounds completely relaxed despite the exertion of his core. His voice passively degrades Satoru by keeping his composure as the strongest sorcerer squirms under the abuse of his prostate.

You let out a moan in tandem when you look into the blue eyes above you, content with just watching him fall apart. You couldn't help hooking your ankles over the back of his thighs, trailing your fingers up the muscles on his sides. Before he was propped up on his elbows, now he melted down to bury his face in the side of your neck, chest pressed against yours—both of you sliding together with Suguru's thrusts.

Everything about this position was hot. You were left to imagine that you were the one getting fucked, newfound energy igniting in you to grip and kiss where you could reach Satoru. 

“f…fuuuck…” He was so close when he grew quiet, flexing his muscles as he tightened up. His arms squeezed around you, slipping underneath your back. Your own wiggled out to bend over his shoulders, a hand carding through his damp hair. 

You kissed the side of his head. “Feels so good Satoru.” And he whimpered.

“Atta girl, talk him through it, baby,” Suguru growled under his breath, leaning down to grip Satoru’s heavy cock again.

You could feel him rubbing it over your clit when he began to orgasm. But before you could even moan in appreciation, Suguru budged his knees forward with a hard thrust, angling Satoru’s cock lower into your center. He pushed it inside to the hilt just as he began cumming.

As you gasped, a high-pitched moan came out of Satoru, “Fuck! Oh god… oh my god…nnnghn!” His hips rutted uncontrollably into your heat, jackhammering into you and back onto Suguru’s dick like a bunny. He wasn’t able to have very long strokes, Suguru kept him pressed up against you so every jerk was a hard, sweet grind.

Cold tears rolled down your collarbone when Satoru finally got what he wanted. You moaned as your hips pressed down into the slower rocking, surprised you could take him without any prep. Loud “ah-ah-ahhh’s” fell uncontrollably near your ear, your head turning to catch his lips in a messy kiss, trying your best to convey how thankful you are to see him this way. To be a part of it.

He finally slowed and an embarrassing slurp was heard when his softening cock pulled out of you. Maneuvering his legs over yours while still holding his head to your chest so you could relax your thighs down onto the bed. Although, not for long. 

“Ah!” you gasp and buck your hips as Suguru spits on your pussy. Slim fingers ran up and down your folds, before two plunged in, crooking upwards to rub against the area that gave your body a flash of heat. You were already so wet from his saliva, your own juices dripping out as you watched them, Satoru’s sticky cum, and now Suguru wanted to mark his claim.

“Don’t forget about me, baby.” His sultry voice mumbled. Satoru moaned in disappointment when your head turned from his lips, moving to suck on any exposed skin of your neck and ear he could reach. After his orgasm, he must have felt lazy, heavier even, since he didn’t make any attempts to roll off of you.

Your weak voice stirred with the movement inside you, “Nnn, could never, Sugu…” He chuckled at your words.

“No? You seemed pretty busy there, got your hands full of such a big baby?” 

“Shut up.” Satoru spat after regaining some of his energy, he gave you a few more kisses and then mumbled, “I got it.”

Suguru hummed in approval, and you didn’t have any time to ask before your calves were hiked over his forearms, lower body tilting upwards to rub against the underside of his dick.

“Now I get to have you, sweetheart,” Suguru hums. Deep in thought as he rubs his fat tip side to side over your clit. He smiles as you whimper and twitch. “Satoru was nice and tight, but now I need to feel you raw. Don’t worry, I’ll make you cum quick.” Small amounts of Satoru’s cum threatened to spill out from your clenching pussy at his words. “Sweet girl, so wet for me.” He pressed inside slowly, groaning along with you.

You didn't even notice Satoru’s hands slide up your wrists until he had them in a tight grip, pulling them over your head. With your arms extended, legs held up and open by his thighs, you were officially unable to move. Vulnerable to take whatever Suguru gave you.

Now your body felt on fire. Pussy squeezing Suguru's dick every time he pulled back. Satoru's warm body pressed into yours, holding you down. 

You stared up at Satoru with wide eyes, mouth hanging open at the intensity in their gaze as they both saw your already fucked out expression. His dick slightly pulsed on your lower stomach.

“Holy fuck, you’re so hot,” Satoru says amazed, leaning back down to suck more marks on your neck.

“I agree,” Suguru panted, “Ohh baby, so so good for us, gonna make me cum.” His eyes were watching intently at where you joined, beginning to lose control at the sight of the creamy substance coating his cock every time he pulled back. A white ring circled his base, creating a sticky smack when your skin connected.

Satoru moaned at his dirty words, lightly grinding into you. He mumbled, around your neck, that he was using as a chew toy, “Mmmm, fuck our baby good, Suguru. Been waitin’ so long.”

Suguru chuckled darkly, “I know. Got so wet just thinking about being split open on one of us, maybe even both of us.” 

Your head tilted back as you moaned unabashedly, trying to escape their heated eyes and sexy mouths. Your face flushed so red, so sure you were going to pass out if this kept up. 

Satoru’s wet tongue trailed up your neck and licked over your ear, the uncomfortable feeling making you squeal and flinch, somehow arousing you further as you climbed that cliff.

“His cock feels so nice doesn’t it?” And he’d know, wouldn’t he? “Ah-ah, don’t run away baby. Right here.” He tuts and handles both of your wrists into one large hand of his, the other gripping your jaw to make you look into Suguru’s eyes. “You like getting my cum fucked into you?” 

The humiliation heated you further when Satoru leaned up to get a look at you. Embarrassment of being the center of attention making you clench rapidly.

It all became too much. Suguru’s cock hit so deep and rough inside you, dragging out so deliciously before snapping back in. Hearing his moans in between yours. Satoru’s breath panted into your ear, licking and kissing you so sweetly. Your wrists held firm in his grip when you tried to tug them out. To grab onto something, anything.

“Ohhh sweet thing, are you gonna cum? Pussy’s squeezing so tight around me, oh that’s it, good girl, good girl.” Suguru rambled leaning over the man above you’s back, taking only a second to hike your bottom up higher, pressing your legs together, and drilling into you faster. 

“Ohmygod, fuck f-fuck uhahh please ple…” your voice cut out as your back bowed and tensed sporadically. This feeling was different, too much, not enough, fuck you were going to break.

“Yeah, you’re gonna cum.” Satoru panted.

“Let go, let go ‘fr me, that’s ahhh that’s it baby fuck…” Suguru whined, bowing down to bite into Satoru’s shoulder as his hips stuttered.

The coil in your stomach grew tighter until it finally snapped. Legs shaking and thrown into the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had, soaking the sheets underneath you along with Suguru’s lap. Tears streamed down your face in ecstasy. 

You all but melted. Arms, legs, and neck going limp, lolling your head to the side. Satoru kissed your cheeks and around your eyes when you whined at the beginning of overstimulation, allowing your hands to come down from their hold. Suguru thrust a few more times before pushing as deep as he could go, adding to the mess of cum inside your spent pussy.

Satoru rolled to the side of you so Suguru could lean down and rest his body along yours. All three of you stilling to enjoy the warm fuzzy afterglow of your orgasms.

Satoru giggled, “I like when you do that.”

Your eyelids flickered tiredly, “What? Make a mess?” You were in dire need of a glass of water.

“Yeah absolutely.” then quietly mumbled a few seconds later like a child saying a naughty word, “squirt.” 

“You’re so immature.” Suguru chuckled and groaned.

“And you’re heavy… get off… both of you,” you mumbled before he could nestle closer in your neck.

He hummed in consideration before pushing Satoru away from the both of you, ordering him to get a towel despite his complaints. When he came back the two of them took over wiping you down, cradling you princess-style as the other stripped the bed.

“How’s a shower sound, babe?” Satoru kissed your forehead before you could doze off.

“Mmm, good,” you mumbled and blinked up at him. Suguru came over to rest his chin on Satoru’s shoulder, stroking your bare legs when goosebumps appeared. “I love you.”

Closing your eyes, you missed their smiles and the kiss they shared after responding, “I love you too, sweetheart.”

dividers by saradika-graphics

Tag list:

Thank you for showing your interest in the teaser! Hope you like😘

@xixflower @darylthekidd @dancing--devils @rottencranberrypie @lonely-aqui @zeeturniolo @yourmom23sworld And heyy remember that one poll when I said I would write this? Sorry it took so long😓 @smuttydegenerate @ilovesukunamorethanmyself Thought you might want to see this💗 ily mootie @an-ever-angry-bi

[carmenberzattosgf]

u my type of person fr,,, i was wondering if you’d write a follow up to no condom carmy where he just won’t get off reader. carmy getting pussydrunk every time

This thought lives in my head rent free of course I can write follow up to that blurb

After he offers to pay to get you an IUD, Carmy rests his face in the crook of your neck again. His breathing is still heavy, and his weight presses down on you now that he isn’t holding himself up.

The part of me that feels like Carmy sometimes gets a bit emotional after sex wants to say he cries just a little bit because of the emotional release. That plus the intimacy of it all. If you notice, you don’t say anything about it, not wanting to embarrass him. Instead you continue to comb your fingers through his hair.

Carmy starts planting soft, open mouth kisses to the marks blooming on your neck. He pays special attention to the spot on your shoulder where he bit down harder than he meant to. “M’sorry about this. It’s gonna bruise,” he says in between kisses to the skin.

“It’s okay. Kinda liked it.” With that comment, Carmy’s head perks back up to smile at you.

“Oh, did you?” He leans down to teasingly bite at your jaw. Nothing that could leave any sort of mark, though.

You wince as you feel cum leak around his cock right onto the bedsheets. “Carm, we gotta get up. Going to make a mess of the bed if we don’t.” Carmy’s arms wrap around you tighter after he hears you. Once again he buries his face into the skin of your neck.

“Don’t wanna pull out, yet. Can we stay like this a little longer? Please?”

You hold back on all the ways you can tease him. It takes a lot for Carmy to be vulnerable like this, and the last thing you want to do is make him shut down.

“Sure, Bear. ‘Course we can.”

Ultimately Carmy ends up falling asleep on top of you, but you don’t have the heart to roll him off. You fall asleep too, with your arms wrapped around his back to keep him close.

[bunnys-kisses]

hello bunny! I love the concept of your bakery it’s literally so cool

do you think I could get chocolate cake & honey cruller with a side of espresso shot?!? with carlos sainz? tyy!

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order? then hit up the bakery! we're always open! and thank you to this anon for a great suggestion! a little bit of size kink and some dirty talk, now that's what i'm talking about! i hope you enjoy the fic!

chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + honey cruller ("i forget how small you are sometimes.") + espresso shot (dirty talking) served by carlos sainz jr (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, dirty talking, (slight) size kink, thigh fucking, sick fic

there was something about how vulnerable you looked when you ha d a cold. you poor thing, sick within the first week of summer break! how unfair! but, carlos wasn't going to shy away from his lover at her weakest.

so he followed you like a shadow most of the day in the house you shared. if you wanted to move from the bedroom to the living room, he'd grab your blankets and bring them to the couch. if you wanted to go to the kitchen to get some ginger tea, he was right behind you, making sure that you didn't have any problems.

he let you rest against him, or prop your feet up on his lap. and while he was being the perfect boyfriend, something deep was clawing inside of him. the sight of you so reliant on him, made his cock stir.

carlos wanted to fuck that sweet pussy of yours. it had been on his mind since he came home and found you bundled up on the couch. you had swapped from wearing his t-shirts to just a sports bra because the heat of the sickness was making you uncomfortable.

so very clearly he could see the lines of your body. the softness in your stomach and your cute breasts were on full display. he wanted to sink his teeth into you. it was painful for him.

it all came to a head when you were curled up in bed with him. he was on his phone. you shifted a little and made a small moaning noise. it struck a cord with him as you peeked out of the blankets.

"are you okay, mi amor?" he asked. as he looked down at you, trying to ignore the erection in his sweatpants.

you nodded, "yeah, you're looking a little flushed, honey." you reached out from your blanket nest and went to touch his face gently, "are you getting sick too?"

"no, no." he said, "i'm not sick. i just want to fuck you, mi amor." he admitted, "i know you're sick, but i want to feel you." he brushed hair out of your face. he knew that he couldn't keep secrets from you, it was impossible. he remembered the time that he had to keep your surprise party a secret and he felt like he was going to die.

you blinked up at him from your nest of blankets, you said, "i don't know if i can take it inside me right now."

he pulled the blankets away from the lower half of your face and said, "you don't have to do anything, beautiful. just lie there and i'll use your thighs. but, i need your permission." he rubbed your cheek, it felt warmed under his touch.

carlos was a sucker for consent, he was the type to think that the more consent the better. so even if he wanted it badly, he would stop himself if you said no.

you pulled the blankets from your body, exposing your almost bare chest and barely covered bottoms. your hair was a mess and you looked obviously sick. carlos wanted to bite his fist to keep himself together.

you looked at him before you coughed a little, "you can carlos." you said with a smile, "you didn't have to ask."

he took you by the face and kissed you on the nose, "no, no. i gotta ask, i need to know how sick you are. i never want to force myself onto you."

you smiled a little, "then feel free to use my thighs, carlos. i trust you. okay? i love you."

"i love you too." he said softly as he put you onto your stomach with your hips up. as much as he'd love to sink his cock into your pussy at the angle you were in, he had to be careful of you for now.

he got his cock out of his sweatpants, and then got your naked. in all fairness the lack of clothes felt nice on your hot body. he used his spit to lube up his cock before he spread your thighs a little with his to slip his cock between your soft flesh.

he felt a shudder run through him, "do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day." you had been on his mind since he woke up, after he got you some medicine for your cold, he had thought about you neediness. it made him so painfully turned on.

you whined into the pillows as your back arched a little bit. you wanted him, but knew that it would all take too much out of you. you were supposed to be overcoming the cold, as badly as you wanted to be fucked by your loving boyfriend.

carlos loved he feeling of your soft thighs around his cock. not the most ideal position, but he'd take what he could get. he wanted to feel close to his precious girlfriend. he could feel the tingle of heat in his body as he moved against you.

you laid under him so pretty, your cute little moans between sneezes and coughs. it was so painfully cute. it was cute in a way that made carlos swear he saw stars as his achy cock leaked pre cum all over your soft thighs.

"i forget how small you are sometimes." he admitted, "you're so tiny compared to me. no wonder you need my help when you're sick. it just ravages you. need your big strong boyfriend to protect you, my love." he groaned as he continued to move.

you held onto the covers and let out a hearty cough before carlos leaned over you and kissed you on your flushed cheek. you croaked, "thank you, honey."

"of course, of course. you take such good care of me. i might as well take good care of you too. do everything in my power to make sure that you are safe."

you felt his love and moaned under his touch. you promised yourself when you were feeling less achy and sick, you'd get your own orgasm too. you knew that carlos would make sure that he got a few dozen out of you.

your thighs were so cute, so sweet around his cock. it was different than having regular sex with you. but it curbed an ache in his gut.

"shit, mi amor. that's it. your thighs feel so good." he panted as he moved against you. his hands still on your hips as he rubbed against your thighs. he knew he was getting close and picked up the pace to reach his climax.

his pre-cum was already making a huge mess on your body as he dragged his cock up against you. he panted how much he loved you until he felt the climax fully over take him. with a few heavy thrusts, he finished between your thighs.

"ah. carlos." you whimpered.

"i know, i know." he groaned as he got himself over that hill. cum spurted out all over your skin. he slowed down, his cum was stuck to your stomach and pussy. he pulled out and you got onto your stomach so it didn't even up all over the covers. even though a lot of it was dripped onto the sheets.

he got up and grabbed a towel to wipe you down. he admired your naked body and the steady rise and fall of your chest. his hands then grazed your soft skin and he went in to kiss you on the lips.

"how was that?" you asked.

he nodded, "perfect. god, you're so perfect. mi ángel. my little sick angel." he kissed you once more. he got his cock back into his sweatpants before he pressed his weight on top of you. his strong arms around you.

eventually it turned into spooning and his legs tangled up in yours. as he held you, he winced when you coughed violently. he kissed you on the neck and whispered a promise, "i'll take care of you, my love. anything you need, is yours."

you replied, feeling sleepy again, "i believe you, you've already done so much for me." you yawned and turned over in his arms to press your face into his chest.

he chuckled, "i only try to match what you do for me. now get some rest. i'll be here when you wake up." he kissed you once more, as a promise. you take care of him and he takes care of you, no matter what. <3

[ghostaholics]

𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 '𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓' 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

➸ PAIRING: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!Reader

➸ CHOKING: he doesn't squeeze that hard – just applies enough pressure the way you like it until that familiar glassy-eyed expression falls over your face, something lust-addled; he always uses his left arm, the one that's all tatted up, consists of intricate pieces he's collected over time until it's formed an elaborate black and white collage that’s inked into his skin – he enjoys seeing how you try to enclose two hands over the entirety of his muscled forearm but can't quite round off the circumference of it, not even trying to get him to pry his grip from your throat, but to keep him there and occasionally prompt him for a little bit more constriction if you need it (❝ Look so fuckin' good like this, don’t you love? ❞)

➸ FAVORITE POSITIONS: anything that can get him as deep inside you as possible, bottomed-out so that he can watch you take every thick inch of him which includes, but is not limited to

(1) mating press or any other variation of it – basically an aggressive 'missionary-style' that gives him the advantage of pile-driving into you, will try to ease your legs onto his shoulders for as long as you can handle it; also likes this because he can still see your eyes roll back in between thrusts when he just grinds into your cunt for a bit while he takes a break and plays with your clit (❝ Greedy cunt's just swallowin' me whole, innit? ❞)

(2) face-down, ass-up - has to pull on your hair a little so you bring your head up to make sure your mouth's not muffled by the pillow (he needs to hear each long, drawn-out moan he can get from you every time he brushes up against that special spot inside you); very primal and powerful, allows him the opportunity to see the arch of your back like this while he's gripping onto your hips for leverage but it's also just so fucking tight and deep (❝ You can take it all, can't you, sweetheart? Yeah, that's my girl. ❞)

➸ DIRTY TALK: typically more reserved in day-to-day conversation, had to work up to being vocal in the bedroom, which now consists of a diverse mixture of low groans, lots of swearing (fuck, shite, or whatever other word that accurately expresses everything he's feeling when he hasn't got a single coherent bloody thought at the moment), as well as any filth like

❝ Gotta stretch you out – work you open on my fingers… Y’know it’d be a shame to wreck this tight, little cunt before I’ve had my fill. ❞

❝ Can’t wait ‘til you milk every last drop of cum from my cock, love. ❞

❝ Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please.’ Let me hear you beg for it. ❞

❝ Christ, I’m gonna flood this fuckin’ cunt. ❞

❝ Do I look like I’m done? Lettin’ my cum leak out… I don’t think so sweetheart. Gotta fuck it back into you now. ❞

❝ Again – love, I'm not stopping until I get another one outta you. So be a good girl and fuckin' come for me. ❞

➸ SPITTING: has a few places he’s fond of; will lift up his mask just above his mouth in order to make it happen

(1) in your mouth, tongue held out in anticipation – he discovers that you’ve got a thing for spit play after a particularly hungry and feverish kiss that has him starving for you, swallowing down your moans, and when he pulls away there’s sort of a wet, glossy little sheen left behind on your lips that you run your tongue over; so, you ask him if he can spit in your mouth because you feel like you need more than just a kiss – he obliges because it reminds him of his cum on your tongue after he asks you where you want him to finish sometimes

(2) on your pussy – absolutely no valid reason for this other than the fact that he really likes rubbing his spit into your cunt and watching it mix with the slickness in between your legs just to make an even bigger mess than the one that’s already there

(3) in his hand, covering his palm – uses it to coat his cock with a few passes over the length of it with his fist, a few harsh tugs at his shaft and a smear of his precum at the head; doesn't really have to because you're wet enough (still wishes he had the opportunity to get you completely fucking soaked, except the circumstances won't allow it), but he's pressed for time, knows it won't be better than the natural lubrication of your own arousal and doesn't care too much since the idea of it makes him that much harder right before he slides on home into your cunt

➸ EATING YOU OUT: he loves it, needs it; heaven between your legs, groans whenever he gets a taste of you, can't resist grabbing handfuls of your ass to bring you impossibly closer to his mouth, tongue flattening and stroking and licking its way into your cunt as you rock down, hips rolling, squirming under the iron-clad grip he's got on your thighs – craves the hot slick rushing out of you, doesn't want to waste a single drop but can't control the way your orgasm liquefies into a sticky and clear wetness that paints his lips and his chin (❝ C’mere. Gonna have you make a mess on my face. ❞ )

➸ DACRYPHILIA: when you're wrought with overstimulation, so, so sensitive after he's ripped the first few orgasms from you – tears prick at the corner of your eyes, a stinging, burning sensation growing in your throat as you try to tamp it down until the first wayward drops of brackish water escape, rolling over your cheeks unsolicited not because the sex hurt but because it was too good and you can't sort out the knotted tangle of emotions you harbor for simon; he asks in a rough and hoarse voice if you're okay, brushes the tears away in a questioning gesture with scarred knuckles until you admit exactly what the cause is, which elicits a deep moan from him signaling that he might just give you another reason to cry

➸ TEASING: rubs the head of his cock against the entrance of your awaiting cunt, back and forth, slowly, just so he can hear you whining impatiently for him to put it in because you hate the feeling of being empty; maybe you should ask nicely, try being polite – it might be the solution to putting an end to your misery

[seungfl0wer]

*Jeongin Calling You Clingy*

Paring: Jeongin x Reader (GN)

Genre: Angst

Warnings: I honestly don’t think any?

This is part of a series find the others here:

Bangchan, Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin

-🩵

You had come to the practice room to suppose your boyfriend. His birthday was close so you got him a little something knowing he’d be away for his actual day. You had went to knock at the door before you could hear him talking to one of the other members. “Yeah i don’t know man y/n is just so.. clingy at times?” He said trying to find his words. “Sometimes I just feel suffocated by them.” He let out a sigh running his hands through his hair.

“But y/n just loves you Innie and they don’t get to see you as often as most couples would.” The members voice soft. “Yeah I know it’s not like I don’t love them, it’s just when I do have alone time it feels like I have to spend it with them or I feel bad cause of that same fact.” He groaned out “I don’t know I just need space sometimes to relax to clear my head and it’s hard to do that sometimes with them around. I feel like I just gotta keep happy so the days we do have together aren’t waisted on my emotions.”

Your heart thudded his words making you dizzy ‘he feels suffocated by me? Am I really that clingy?’ You said to yourself taking a deep breath in. You turned on your heels about to walk back to your car before you were met by Chan. “Oh hey y/n! Coming to see Innie” he smiled at you. “Uhm yeah..” your voice cracking a bit “just wanted to drop something off to him.” You said Turing back around Chan opening the door following behind you. Jeongin quickly met your gaze he looked almost defeated seeing you.

“Hey babe” he said softly walking towards you “hey I just wanted to drop this off for you since I won’t see you on your birthday.” You said handing him the bag. He smiled softly opening the bag “wow babe you didn’t have to- I can’t believe you remembered I wanted this.” His face lighting up at the jacket he’s had his eye on for months. You took a note on it when he showed you knowing his birthday was coming up. You smiled at him seeing the other members seeing it was Felix.

“Hey y/n we were gonna go get dinner wanna come with?” He said with a smile. You shook your head no “I’m not feeling the best actually, I was just here to drop the gift off.” You gave him a fake smile “thank you though maybe next time.” You kissed jeongins cheeks “I’ll see you later” you said turning on your heals to walk out the door.

He sent you a text as you got into your car “let me know if you need anything babe” you shook your head feeling like you were about to cry. You headed home and the next few days you were almost silent only talking to him if he had messaged you first. The boy wasn’t the brightest at picking up on cues so he didn’t realizing you were distancing yourself.

About a week later he had just gotten back from Japan texting you about him landing.

You didn’t lie you were in bed and you ended up falling asleep. Jeongin was in a panic his heart racing, it felt like it was breaking like all the pieces were scattering trying to find you. He rushed to grab a cab, the ride there he was just a mess. His mind raced thinking of what could have happened then realizing how distant you had been lately.

‘They’re gonna dump me’ he thought making tears prick at the corners of his eyes. ‘No no no no’ he said shaking his head. He got to your place racing for your spare key. He bolted into your house only to see you lying in bed asleep. He softly touched your arms trying to wake you up. Your eyes fluttered open a bit annoyed to be woken up. “Jeongin why are you here?” You said voice scratchy from just waking up.

“I’m here because I’m concerned that.. that you’re gonna break up with me.. that I did something wrong and I..” his voice stuttered as he started to cry. “Talk to me.. please what did I do let me.. I.. let me fix it” he sobbed out. Your heart felt heavy seeing the man crying “Jeongin..” you said reaching out for him. He collapsed into your arms crying harder into your chest.

“Listen.. I heard what you said to Felix.. about feeling suffocated by me.. I’m sorry I just wanted to give you space didn’t wanna be clingy anymore..” you said feeling like you’d start bawling any minute as well. His head shot up “y/n! I- why didn’t you say anything?? That’s been how long? You’ve been carrying that hurt for that long.. I made you hurt for that long?” He sniffled wrapping his arms around you. “I’m sorry I’m so- fucking sorry babe.. please I-“ he sobbed harder into your chest.

“I’m sorry I’ve made you feel that way in the first place jeongin” you said rubbing his head. “Y/n listen our relationship is complicated things are different than normal relationship. So sometimes I need alone time. But” he said clearing his throat wiping his face. “But I love having you around it makes my heart melt just seeing you and you make me feel comfortable” he said looking up at you placing a kiss to your trembling lips. “I wish I had come to you about this I just was afraid of hurting you.” He said softly “but I guess either way I did”

He took your hand “please say something?” He said eyes pleading “your words have been circling in my mind jeongin.. I feel like.. like I need to change myself so I-“ you rambled but he cut you off “no! Do not change yourself. Never change yourself no matter what people say. No matter what I say dumbly. You’re amazing you’re the perfect person never change yourself please babe.” His words spewed out as you felt tears run down your face.

It was your turn to burry your face into his chest to cry “i love you jeongin i just wanna make you happy.” You said through sobs. He rubbed your back pulling you down into the bed wrapping his arms around you tightly humming into your ear to calm you down “I love you (full name) with all my heart you make me the happiest man alive and id never change a single thing about you.” He said pulling your face up to look at him kissing your lips softly.

You both laid there Jeongin started to sing softly as he rubbed your back. “Let’s sleep my love we can talk more in the morning if you want, I’ll even make breakfast.” He said kissing your head. You nodded no through puffy sleepy eyes “ok but how about we go get breakfast, I’d like my place not to burn down.” You both laughed a bit before you fell asleep to jeongins singing.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[hyewka]

soobin + humiliation kink + hes such a perv

priorities, you perv | c.sb ࿐

⭑ synopsis. a blind date? oh thats immediately pushed aside just for the addictive high you get off messing with your roommate, who seems to be more pouty than usual tonight for whatever reason.

⭑ warnings. sub perv soobin, panty sniffing, underwear used as ball gag kinda, handjob, fuck buddy roommate au, humiliation kink sortaa, dacryphilia, vibrator, bunny/pup petname, not proofread, use of goddess

Soobin’s been intent on following you around like a puppy this evening, all around the house, but the longer he keeps it up, the less it becomes cute and funny and the more it crosses into the ‘overbearing jealous boyfriend who isn’t actually your boyfriend’ territory. Because really, why the hell has he been acting like a pet with abandonment anxiety the day you have your blind date scheduled?

“You can’t come in my bedroom with me.” you finally say, flashing him a superficial wide smile, behind your door.

He abruptly stops, stumbling back like his mind really was on autopilot following you—then his face falls, brows knitting together. “What, why?”

“Because I don’t want your cooties all over my bed.” He isn’t amused, clearly, with a brow raised. You groan, it could be life or death and your roommate would still not choose to humor you. “I’m going to change idiot.”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before?”

You click your tongue at him—he might have an amazing track record with academics, but sometimes it really is rocks for brains in there. “You’re not coming in Soobin, tough luck!”

In lightning speed he sticks his arm between the crack before you shut your door. “Wait, no, I wanna—I wanna help you pick something out!”

Now its your turn to raise a brow. Soobin? Help you get ready? He’d rather die of boredom.

You knew you weren’t crazy.

All day, hes been acting extremely out of character. Throwing you pouts during the one lecture you shared, feeling his eyes bore into you like he’s trying to burn a hole in your face, yet still spending money to buy you your favorite tiramisu even when he’s been sulking like you’ve wronged his entire bloodline.

The craziest thing is that you truly do not know a bigger cheapskate than Soobin. He’d chase a quarter in a crowd of people even if it took him all the way to Japan. So the tiramisu was a mind boggling investment. For you, let alone. It’s like he was bribing you.

He couldn’t have magically fell head over heels, it has to have something to do with the one thing different today. Your blind date.

You reach out to pat his head, mock pouting. He takes the bait anyway, lowering his head a little, looking so cute confused. It’s adorable actually, how quick he is to go with whatever you do.

“Aww Soobie, it’s okay, I promise you’ll always be my number one good boy. You really don’t have to be jealous and act out.” you tease, intentionally using baby talk to agitate him a lot more than it would’ve.

He scoffs loudly snapping his head to the side, bewildered this is the direction you decided to take things. “What? Jealous? Jealous? Jealous of what? I’m not jealous.” You stand there wearing a skeptic look on your face and a cross of your arms over your chest.

He wags his finger at your face like he can’t believe your audacity, dryly laughing (which really just sounds like a bunch of scoffs stringed together). “You’re funny, I—I gotta give it to you Y/N, you should really try your luck with Hueningkai’s comedy group again. Is it a crime to want to support your roommate after being all too aware of her notorious losing streak with the dating world? I don’t think so!”

Ouch, the all too real call out. “Damn, okay asshole you can help.” you faux hurt, not missing the chance to flip him off before walking inside and leaving your bedroom door wide open behind you. Maybe his input will have you get to your date earlier. “By the way, I do not have a losing streak.”

————-

There are outfits you just think you’d never wear to a first date—your black bodycon with cuts at the waist was an absolute no-go, especially with it’s length. Then there was the crimson red shoulder-off that had your tits looking too full—that was a big no. You don’t even know how your blind date looks, you wouldn’t want to have a man you find sexually unappealing to find you sexually appealing. That’s always a cause for a migraine.

But the problem you’re facing right now is far greater than any migraine you’ll experience. Soobin seems to think every outfit you wound up coming out with is, in his own words, “too much”.

This one’s the worst of all. “It’s literally just ripped jeans and a crop top!”

“That’s the problem! It doesn’t even look pretty!” he splutters, eyes wide and a large pout on his lips.

“You want me to wear something pretty?���

He looks to the side, mumbling, “Whatever.”

It’s raining, you hear it pouring and you’re like, fifteen minutes late already. All for Soobin’s useless input. It’s not worth it, and you’re proven even more correct when you come out the bathroom with the outfit you picked out. White, tight, but flowy at the ends of the dress. Girly and especially tight at the chest, just like you know he likes it.

Soobins eyes don’t fail to shamelessly rake over your body, stunned, looking like a deer in headlights. He clears his throat, snapping out of it. “No, absolutely not.”

You feign innocence, tilting your head. “Why not? It’s pretty.” You make it more of a point when you turn around, acting like you’re just checking your outfit through your wall mirror, knowing damn well the horndogs probably salivating at your ass barely being covered.

“It’s too much.” he parrots again lamely, chewing slightly on his lips. “Change, you can’t go out like this.”

Okay, that sort of pisses you off, turning around with your arms crossed again to the boy sitting at the edge of your bed. He doesn’t have the right to order you around. “Yes I can, I very much can.”

Suddenly, there’s a switch—he cowers like a kicked dog. “You can wear whatever you want I didn’t mean to-”

You break into a grin all of a sudden walking towards him, shutting him up.

He gulps, sitting there, avoiding eye contact when you’re close. You prop his chin up, and he just lets you, forcing him to look you in the eye. God, he already looks stupidly entranced. “You’d hate for me to wear this, huh?”

“Yeah..” he admits way too easily, a little whine in his voice, brows knitting up. Cute.

“But you love the dress, don’t you?” you purr, caressing his face with your thumb.

Your phone suddenly rings and you’re pulled out of the moment for a second, glaring at it then back to your roommate who looks like he’s under some love spell. Yeah no, this is much more fun.

You ignore the call, letting it ring as you drag your thumb down his bottom lip and god how obedient he is just sitting there and looking up like you’re his deity.

“What?” you giggle at the way his breath hitches the further you trail your finger down his body. The switch right before your eyes, oh that transformation’s worth more than anything else in the world. Bunny’s horny.

“You’d love to take this off me, right? You’d love me tease you bit by bit, have my tits bouncing in the restrictions of them, just struggling to keep your hands from ripping it apart...” you trail off, finally getting your hand on his half erect clothed dick.

You can see him holding back, holding back from humping your hand, the one you just purposefully let rest on his growing boner. “Your date.” he reminds.

You quirk a brow, taken aback. “Want me to go?”

Suddenly, he vigorously shakes his head, “No, no, don’t. I want you, please.” The strain of his voice when he pleads—god it’s the sexiest, most sinful thing ever.

Shameless. Just the way you like him.

“Hm? You do? Don’t you always?” you tease, walking away to get something out of your drawer.

“What are you looking for?” he mumbles skeptically.

You gleam, pulling out the vibrator and turning it on, showing it to your unsuspecting roommate. “Let’s play with this.”

He frowns. “You know I can make you feel ten times better than that toy, you don’t need it.”

“Who says its for me?”

You enjoy the blush that trickles his cheeks, and how easily the tips of his ear turn red as he blinks rapidly to collect himself. His adam apple bobs up and down again, stumbling over his words. “God, you’re such a himbo.”

“W-wait!” he shrieks, suddenly covering the tent in his pants.

You halt, the vibrator only a few inches from his crotch. “Can—can you…” he sighs frustratedly, looking away from you, the steam coming his red ears has you curious, what’s he so hesitant for? “Can you take off your underwear?” Oh.

Of course.

Your lips form into a smirk, knowing exactly what he wants to do with them. Slowly, with one hand you pull down your panties and let them drop to the floor. His eyes are, despite having a hard time telling you what he wants, eagerly fixed on the black lace, you could see the bead of sweat that breaks from his forehead. Pervert.

You bend down to grab it, purposefully making a show of it and he just huffs. “Get with it already.”

You laugh, “You’re being so bratty today. Think you’re owed a fuck?”

He whimpers dejectedly, shaking his head. Mockingly, you wave your panties in front of his face like an owner wagging a bone in front of their dog. He’s so indecent he has the audacity to take a whiff when the garment is close enough. God, he really is absolutely shameless.

And you really need to relieve yourself. You’re trying to not rub your thighs too much.

You crumble the underwear in your hand, and coo. “Open your mouth wide baby.”

Soobin’s mouth falls open almost immediately, tongue lolling out, looking up at you expectantly so much so it would be endearing if not for the situation you’re currently in. You shove it in his mouth, cringing at the saliva that wets your fingers.

“This is how it started huh?” you near the vibrator on his inner thighs enjoying the way he sighs through his nose, shuddering. “Fooling your roommate into thinking you were a studious, innocent good boy but in reality you just snuck in the laundry room every night to jerk off with her panties. Disgusting.”

He moans wantonly around the fabric, his hair brushing over his eyes as you near the vibrator to where he actually wants it. His dick. Poor him, its probably weeping in his pants.

“Violating me like that without my knowledge— you’ll always be a bad boy.”

Again, he shakes his head hard, to the point your panties fall out of his mouth already. “No, good boy. I’m your good boy.” he pants, face flushed. How’s he so easily worked up?

You giggle, pressing the vibrator against his cock, having Soobin’s jaw fall slack. “Couldn’t even keep the underwear in your mouth for more than two seconds. You’d make a really good camboy, always wanting people to hear you moan and whine like a slut.”

“No, no, just want you. Just want you to hear me.”

That affects you more than you’d like, and you try to fight the blush that warms your cheeks. God damn Soobin.

But he isn’t even aware, if his babbles were any indication. He dips his head back, big hands digging onto your sheets as you run the vibrator up and down. “Fuck.” he groans, still keeping his eyes open to watch your chest. You know he’s trying hard to keep up the good boy act for you, so you throw him a bone.

He gasps when your hand goes down his pants to wrap around his cock, and it’s the cutest thing ever how he immediately melts. You’re sitting next to him, twisting and jerking off his dick with his head leaning on your shoulder when you’re supposed to be under an umbrella with a future dating prospect instead.

Who cares, that man you’re sure wouldn’t give you what he’s giving you.

“Don’t wanna cum yet, wanna fuck you f-first.” he breathes into your neck. “Please goddess, please. Want your pussy.” he begs dumbly, starting to lay wet kisses to your neck— hes just not leaving room for you to really hold back.

“Holy shit, you’re good.” you realize in awe, probably wetting your bed with how aroused you are right now.

“Then take me baby, take me how you want. You’ve been good, so good.” you slur, and he practically jumps onto you like an oversized bunny, having your back on the mattress and him hovering, pulling you into an open mouth kiss almost immedietely.

“You’re so hot, fuck, you drive me crazy.” he says rushed, kissing you again, melting his mewls and pants into it.

You feel the roughness of his hands playing with your tits already, kneading so desperately you think he must’ve been itching to do just that this entire time. You like it with him, how it’s so dirty and quick, but still passionate enough to keep you wanting more.

“Fuck, wanna see them, please, please.” he whines as he salivates even more, playing with your nipples through the fabric, cheeks red and flushed, pathetically humping your cunt with his boner. “No, be a good bunny and fuck me good.”

He’s sniffling and tears stain his lashes, yet he still nods obediently, humping your cunt like he’s just restless enough to not pull out his dick and put it in—it’s the hottest thing ever.

But eventually the fabric feels rough against your skin, and you hiss, taking it upon yourself to pull out his cock from his pants.

God, his tip is red, leaky— it’s gross, a testament to how he gets with you and you love it. “Come on baby—bunny, fuck me.” you look up at him with wide, doe eyes and it immediately has him nodding frantically, missing your entrance once before he completely bottoms out, suffocatingly filling you up in one push—you’ll just never get used to his size.

“Always so mean, you’re always so mean to me.” he dumbly babbles, tongue out as he fucks into you maniacally, getting lost in your pussy.

“But you’re in my cunt right now aren’t you?” you mock, knowing that’s always his end goal with you, his end prize.

You’re breathless, curling your toes the harder he snaps his hips. You’re used to how it is with Soobin, he’s always animalistic and unrhythmic, rubbing your clit like he has no idea what he’s doing. But that’s the fun in it, how inexperienced and pathetic he is.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, are you? Are you?” he’s out of it, kissing your neck, biting, panicky as he nears his orgasm, that before you could respond, you’re already feeling his seed fill your cunt.

He can tell, he can tell when you didn’t get there so he’s already pulling your dress up over your tits, attaching his mouth on one of your nipples, pulling the other through his hands, playing with them till they become puffy and have you withering under him. “Fuck, fuck Soobie…just like that,” you moan, feeling his long fingers squeeze into your pussy, speeding up, trying to rip an orgasm out of you.

The tense of his arms, veins showing, cease once you arch your back and cum at getting a good look of his face— lips raw and red as he bit onto them for majority of the time, eyes wet and big, just silently begging you to cum on his fingers, you let yourself go, the tightening band finally snapping.

—————-

note. lol im not super duper confident but let me know how you guys feel about this one, feedback keeps me going

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

imagine like reader being a detective or something, being on the case to catch Red Hood (while he’s still a crime boss)/ the Arkham Knight, but being in a relationship with Jason, unaware of his nightly business. And then boom, they find out one day and it’s all angsty 🤞🤞 love ur work btw hihi

Betrayal

Hi, nonnie! I thought I had this done earlier, but then I had to keep world building. Stuck with Red Hood on this one. Hurt/No comfort warning. Non-graphic, very minor character death. ~1.8k words

Gotham is cursed. That's what they told you when you transfered to the GCPD. Yeah, you've heard the stories, but they're just messing with you, right? Trying to scare the newest rookie cop.

Except they were telling the truth. A few years later, more cases than you can keep track of, enough masked rouges to fill arkham three times over, and a promotion to detective, you tell the rookies the same thing they told you. Gotham is cursed.

"Alright, Detective, this one is yours." You make a face at the case file the Commissioner drops on your desk.

"Sir, I took care of The Penguin robbery last week, isn't it someone elses turn to deal with the high profile cases?" You gingerly pick up the file, reading over the name Red Hood stamped on the front.

Gordan sighs at you, already turning away to move onto the next poor detective. "We cycled through everyone else after the Black Gate breakout. Anyone who didn't work on it has active cases. That makes this one yours."

You grumble reluctantly, cases like this lead to more press coverage than you want to deal with, but start flipping through the file, mentally noting down the sparse facts and theories about the up and coming crime lord.

That was four months ago. In such a short amount of time, Red Hood has taken over more territory in Gotham than any other crime lord and completely changed the game. No dealing to children, no human trafficking. You hate to acknowledge it, but crime technically has dropped since he took over the majority of gangs in Gotham under an iron fist.

The work is exhausting, he's always one– no, five steps ahead of you and your growing team of detectives and beat cops. You don't think you've even gotten a real glimpse at him that he didn't mean to let you have.

The closest you've gotten to Red Hood was out of uniform, weeks after you got the case, when he was still a new name on the streets.

It was a robbery, some desperate punk in a mask that didn't conceal anything, was dragging a little girl out of the store as a hostage.

"Take me instead, she's just a kid." You had protested, heart sinking at the terror in the little girls face.

"Not a chance." He barked back at you.

"Look, she's scared, she'll only slow you down."

The gunman stares at you, you see his fingers twitch. "Fuck it. Fine. Both of you are coming with me." That's how you ended up in some alley, familiar sirens wailing in the distance and your hand curled protectively with the child's.

"Shit. Man. Shit. The cops weren't supposed to be here. What am I gonna do? I can't go to jail." He's snapping. Rambling and desperate. Your eyes dart for some kind of plan, a way to help the little girl stay safe. But the alley is empty, not even a dumpster to seek shelter behind. "I just gotta get rid of the witnesses. Yeah. The witnesses."

Your eyes dart to him, he's lifting the gun. You don't hesitate to grab the little girl, wrapping your arms around her and turning your back to the man, tucking her to your chest to provide as much cover as you can provide.

A gun fires.

There's a thud.

You look over your shoulder, the girls face still hidden against you. He's not moving, gun unshot and laying next to him on the ground. There's a pool of dark liquid forming around him. You look up.

You manage to see a red glint, the shine of a gun, the eerie glow of a luminescent eyes. Red Hood.

That's all you manage to see before you're swarmed by cops, guiding you and the girl to safety.

It's a memory that plays in your mind sometimes, when you hear testimonies of how Red Hood saves people in crime alley, despite his crime lord status. It's confusing, exhausting even, to try and sort between the good and the bad, the duality of one man. At least you have your loving boyfriend to come home to.

Jason. He makes you feel like Gotham might not be so cursed. It's great, he gives you butterflies. He makes you happy. You cook meals together, and you both work the weird twilight/night shift hours. He holds you like you're precious under your shared comforter. You think you might love him. He whispers sweet nothings into your hair when he thinks you're sleeping. You kiss his palms when his eyes get that far away, haunted look he can’t seem to explain.

He's insisted on cooking dinner tonight as you watch him, a little starry eyed. You can't really blame yourself when he's shirtless and working over your favorite meal.

"Oh, Jason, I need to wash my clothes. Do you need anything done?" You ask, finally remembering that you do actually have a job and responsibilities and you can't stare at your handsome boyfriend all day.

"No, I'm good, baby. Go ahead and do your thing. Dinner's almost done." He answers idly, shooting you a lazy grin as you stand.

You smile back before leaving the kitchen to gather your clothes. As you dump the dirty laundry in the washer, you realize you never refilled the detergent. Mumbling an annoyed curse, you head to the spare bedroom you rarely use. There should be some extra necessities stock piled in there. You know, for the next time a criminal messes with Gothams chain supply.

You're more focused on the delicious smells floating through the apartment as you open the closet door, idly looking around for the detergent. That's why it doesn't really click in your mind what you're looking at. Guns. Armor. Your thoughts freeze to a stop. Are you dating some kind of henchman? A bright red helmet takes up your vision. Nope. You're dating a crime boss.

The helmet is in your hands and you're fumbling your way to the kitchen before you even have your thoughts sorted. Should you call for back up? Shouldn't you try to catch him by surprise? Sure. But, you need answers. You want this to be a misunderstanding. You want Jason to be your partner– not– not what the evidence that's heavy in your hand says he is.

Statistics run through your mind. Stories of Red Hood saving working girls. Stories of him leaving bodies of dealers that sold to kids. Then, memories of your boyfriend. How he leans down to kiss your forehead. How runs his hand up and down your arm while you watch movies together. If there was a sign. If you were too blind and in love to realize.

He turns to look at you when you stalk in. You throw the helmet at him. The helmet you'd recognize anywhere, even if you've never gotten close enough to touch it before. He catches it with the grace of a predator. "The hell is this, Jason?"

"It's a helmet." He says evenly, turning off the stove and placing the helmet down on the counter.

"No, duh, it's a helmet, Jason. Don't patronize me. Is it yours?" You nearly hiss, hands curling in anger and frustration and heart break you're not ready to admit you're feeling.

He studies you, eyes dark and calculating. It makes you bite the inside of you cheek. His eyes never looked at you like that before. "It is."

You laugh out of disbelief, stepping back. "So you've been using me? Is that what all this was? Just a way to get information about the GCPD and what we had on you?"

"What? No." He says your name a little pleading, "it's not like that. Not anymore."

"But it was." You bite out, cursing yourself for the sting of tears in your eyes.

He steps closer, you step back, trying to keep your hands from shaking. He whispers your name, and you think you see hurt flash in his eyes before it disappears. His voice goes steady, even. "It was. But I haven't tried to get anything like that since–"

"Since when, Jason?" You cut off, anger and hurt clear in your voice, in your face. "Was it before we raided the warehouse at the docks? Is my computer bugged? Did you hack my phone?"

He winces. You don't need to be a detective to know he has. "I haven't used them since we started getting serious."

"And when was that, Jason?" You ask, voice breaking at his name. "Because it's been serious this entire time for me."

He doesn't answer at first, gaze leaving you to stare at his helmet. "Since I– I saw you save that kid. Instead of going after that shooter. When I realized you weren't just another one of the corrupted cops. That you care about this city. And the people. I realized I couldn't keep doing that to you."

You go quiet. What can you say to that? "Were you ever going to tell me?" You settle on.

"I don't know." He shrugs helplessly, eyes leaving the helmet to meet your teary gaze. "I didn't know how. I don't– think I wanted you to know. " He stutters over his last sentence, and then says your name, pleading coming back to his tone. "I can't lose you over this."

"You never had me!" Your voice raises, a shout in anger before you can bury it down. You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively and lowering your voice. "You never had me if everything this was was built on a lie."

"It's not a lie." He says firmly, snapping to attention and stepping towards you. He gestures between the two of you, says your name like he demands your attention. "This is not a lie."

"It is, Jason! You're only here to gain something from me! From my job!" You push back, throat tight and head spinning. Maybe you shouldn't be yelling at Gothams most dangerous and deadliest crime boss, but your heart is too broken for your head to think straight.

"No, pretty." You think he's pleading. You think his mouth might even be trembling as he speaks, but you can't make it out through the tears in your eyes. "No. It was like that at first. I know. I know that hurts you, but, it's not like that now. It's nowhere near that now."

"I don't care." You choke out.

"You don't mean that." Jason protests, but he doesn't sound certain.

"I don't want to see you anymore." You say the words before you're even sure you want that.

His face drops. "You don't mean that either."

"I do." It tastes like a lie. It sounds like the truth. You're turning and leaving before he can speak again, before you can unpack what you really want, locking yourself in the bathroom.

You fall asleep to the sound of your own tears, curled on the cold tile floor. You wake to silence. His helmet is gone from your counter when you enter the kitchen.

Your favorite dinner is wrapped in plastic when you open the fridge.

It makes the truth of it all worse. Gotham really is cursed.

Part Two

[princessbrunette]

rafe loved to remind puppy!reader of where she stood.

it felt gross and evil for him to be berating you in your own bedroom for once. you weren’t shrouded in the cold yet familiar atmosphere of tanny hill, accepting each blow — you were in your warm bedroom, your safe space, with your stuffed animals watching your boyfriend do unspeakable things to punish you.

when you got overexcited, sometimes you couldn’t stop. whether that be with the words flying out your mouth, or your hands grabbing and gripping at rafe when you shouldn’t be — more times than not, it got you in trouble. clearly, you’d pushed your luck. rafe had wiped you up, dressed you up and dragged you along to some insanely high class event at the club, and what did you do? pout and grab at him the whole time. now, he had to teach you a lesson in keeping your hands to yourself.

that’s how you end up sat on his lap on your vanity chair. you lean back against him because that’s all you can do with your hands tied behind your back with the tie he was wearing. your tearful whines are muffled too, the eldest cameron having yanked your panties off to muzzle you with them, stuffing them into your mouth until you gagged and threatening you not to spit them out. drool leaks from the fabric and you sniffle, watching the main event.

rafe sits with his legs spread wide, your body hanging off one of them, as he slowly jerks himself off.

“—and, and i don’t even know why you’re crying, alright you forced me to do this… to teach you a lesson for bein’ so fuckin’ handsy. now, okay, now you don’t get to touch me at all. congratulations.” he lectures you, still clearly pissed off but all flushed in the face from arousal as he swipes his thumb over his leaking tip.

you try to apologise and beg him to let you taste him just a little, but it comes out a garbled spitty mess through the fabric of your pretty pink panties that he’d carelessly pulled up your legs this morning when he was ensuring you were presentable enough to bring with him.

“shutuuup. think m’gonna take pity on a pogue who can’t follow orders? remember who the fuck you’re dealing with here alright, just because you’re my girl doesn’t mean i’m gonna let you get away with shit. wouldn’t be doin’ my job.”

despite how nasty he was being, you can’t help but melt a little every time he calls you his girl. it was sick how you clung onto the slightest approval or compliment from the man who kept you on such a tight leash. you tip your head back against his shoulder with a whiny groan, your cunt surely having leaked onto his pants by this point. you feel his hand on the back of your neck gripping you, forcing you to watch.

“nah, nah you fuckin’ keep your eyes on me yeah? you should be thanking me… because— because i’m the one who keeps you in check. me, rafe. without me you’d… shit, you’d be runnin’ around the cut with those pogues. i’m teaching you discipline here. you’re welcome.”

you whimper something out, which is of course muffled — and he sighs, deciding to relent a little. he lets go of his cock briefly to pull the material from your mouth, nose turned up as he tosses the wet fabric to the side. “speak.”

“thank you, rafey.” you croak, doe eyes filled with hope and admiration for the man despite everything. he sighs, gripping your cheeks and pulling you in for a wet kiss, teeth nearly clashing as he smushes his mouth to yours. you moan desperately against him, understanding this is probably all the contact you’d get tonight. rafe was cruel after all, after he came he’d probably leave your house to go run some rafe-errands around town, leaving you crying and humping the pillow on his side of your bed.

he pulls back, hand back on his dick in no time as he cranes to hold your gaze. “whatever. now you’re gonna watch me cum, a’ight? you can’t afford to touch me right now, so looks like i gotta do this shit myself.”

it was a blessing to watch him come undone anyway.

[n3ptoonz]

mk1 hcs: how the earthrealm guys react when you ride them

this broadcast is brought to you by getting inspired from @dirtymortalkombatconfessions tysm for fueling my raunchy mind 🙏🏾 outworld guys here

all the guys here are submissive in these hcs cause i don't see it enough!!! and reader is GN

Smoke

first of all it's his favorite position. nothing he loves more than holding his partner in his arms while they have power over him at the same time

HE. WHIMPERS. A LOT!!!!

CANNOT keep his hands still he's always massaging or caressing some part of your body

begs. he begs. if you stop moving? he will deadass start tearing up and whispering pleas all in your ear

hold his face while you do it. look him in the eyes and give him praise && give him kisses 😔 he's got enough shit from bi han and this the only way he properly relaxes 💔

Raiden

he's not very vocal at first, but he does sigh and grunt a lot

when he's vocal? he's not loud, but curses up a storm. his eyes get all hazy and glossed over too like you gotta tap him back to reality sometimes

he can get handsy but prefers to either keep his hands in place or have them restrained in some way

speaking of which if you do restrain his hands there's a good chance he'll start bucking once he's close and try to pull free. silly goose, we know how to tie knots around here!

if you get really close to his face like holding it or just looking at him he can and will just start mumbling about how good you make him feel/how you're the only one who makes him feel like this

Kung Lao

(turns on self indulgence beam) ahem taps mic is this thing on??

lao is a praise kink BITCH you understand??? and since he's full of himself he for sure will not shy away from whimpering and groaning loud as hell just to hear his own voice

you give him praise and BOOM suddenly it's upturned eyebrows and beads of tears at the corners of his eyes. he will ask you to repeat what you said over and over

once his pride wears out he's a begging mess like smoke. he's super handsy but in the way where he's acting like you're gonna disappear before he nuts. i cracking up at the thought of that

afterwords "did i do good?" or "was i a good boy?" AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHG hey im normal don't give me that look. ALSO PLAY WITH HIS HAIR he's a sucker for it (glad i can say that now he's not bald)(love you mk11 lao i swear)

Kenshi Takahashi

oooo this sensual romantic ass man. sensual romantic ASS man (he likes ass)

he's not a loud guy or it's just rare. his hands aren't gonna go anywhere but your ass though. MAYBE your thighs, but it's always back to ass!

less on whimpering more on grunting but there's occasional cracks in his voice when feels really good. he only full on whimpers if you go fast and gets closer faster from the pace

please for the love of god leave some sort of marks on this man's neck. it drives him CRAZYYYY he'll be cursing like he's never done before especially cause he WILL return the favor

like raiden if you give his face more love especially around his eyes it's up for him you're going to be told how perfect and how good only you can make him feel for the next 72 hours

Johnny Cage

BRAT. he's a brat. Johnny John Carlton Cage is a B R A T

you will have to physically shut him up and that was his mission accomplished. don't let his hands be free either cause he'll keep trying to take control (and keep failing every single time)(again, this was allll part of the plan)

when he's completely helpless at your disposal...bottom bitch alert! whiny whimpering grunting sighing giggling you name it CENTRAL. he the type to whine about being restricted when it was literally his own idea in the first place

he's a praise kink bitch too i mean come on THE johnny cage ik you weren't expecting otherwise. tell him he's a good boy but also call him your bitch oh how he loves it

and by the way... record. everything. he'll watch those tapes back like they're old school vhs memories

Liu Kang

how you got a god to submit to you is beyond anyone's belief. but who cares?! drain that mf (balls)

he absolutely positively loves loves LOVES eye contact. you look him in the eyes long enough it's like your souls are fuckin too (literally that scene with him and titan kitana except you're looking down at him everybodyshutthefuckup)

give him a bunch of kisses pls pls pls he craves it he adores it CARNALLY. very very handsy man there's no part of you that goes untouched.

he's too calm to be loud but he does grunt and will have dragged out moans that result in a higher pitched tone

surprise, even a god could use some praise every now and then!!! he blushes the most whenever you call him perfect or tell him he's doing great even with all that's on his plate on the daily <3

Sub Zero

this stubborn fucker. just pull his hair and give him the same look he gives everybody and he's all yours cause then he'll look like this (i cannot stop referring to this picture)

in the privacy of your shared room (idc if this is ooc this is tumblr god damn it) he's a stuttering mess and cannot keep his hands off your hips and thighs for anything so prepare for those areas to have frostbite

there are times where his hands slide up your back when he's close, and by this time his furrowed brows and sharp gaze are completely gone. he's looking up at you like you've descended just to give him the ride of his life (bc you did obviously)

if he whimpers it's raspy and deep. he generally grunts and groans and a lot of profane language coming from them lips

however comma it's rare he'll shudder and whine like a lil bitch if he can't touch you oooo and he's a bucker too

Scorpion

last but certainly not least this sexy mf. i fully fully believe that he would not hesitate to submit to someone he's in love with (you hahaha)

you don't even need to pull his hair just glide your fingers through it he's set for life. he sighs and just smiles, you're so good to him

he's not very vocal but he certainly whines and has shallower breaths when he's close. when he looks up at you he has to try his hardest not to bust right there cause damnnn you fine as hail

thigh man thigh man thigh man. oh, did i say thigh man? i meant to say HE'S A THIGH MAN. and neck, like kenshi don't even think about getting up off of him without a bunch of marks on his neck and shoulders if ya feelin freekie

if you pull his hair he will cum. and you heard that from me.

ask box is open! <3

[heartsforvin]

Pls do a blurb where you see vinnie is so comfortable in your cozy little room. Like it’s such a contrast to his room but he loves it

COZY SURROUNDINGS

pairing: vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings: pure fluff !! , use of pet names

summary: yours and vinnie’s rooms are such complete opposites, you’re surprised when you see him so comfortable in yours

the contrast between your bedroom and vinnie’s was very different. he had all his little trinkets, anime stuff, posters along with stuffed animals he had gotten from various countries he had been too.

meanwhile, your bedroom had twinkle lights along the walls, a cozy chair filled with blankets for when you wanted to read, stuffed animals, pillows and blankets all along your bed, along with a desk where you had your laptop.

the vibes in the rooms were noticeably different too. when you’d go into vinnie’s room, you could feel the aura of a guy living there.

his clothes would sometimes pile up in a comer, while yours was residing in a laundry hamper until you had decided to wash them.

that’s when you realized the two of you were different in some way. you’d keep everything neat, pristine and always had some cute lights up in your room.

while vinnie just had his bedroom walls covered in posters, his bed, and a few little things here and there. usually some sort of mess added to it.

when vinnie walked into your room as soon as he got to your apartment, he immediately landed on your big fluffy bed filled with all your necessities.

you walked in to see him a comfortable in your bed, cheek pressed against your fuzzy blanket as he laid on his stomach, facing your bedroom door.

“comfy, baby?” you chuckle at the sight of your boyfriend.

you never thought he’d be so comfortable in your room since it was a bit of a change from his. you thought maybe it’d be too much for him with all the lights and things.

vinnie smiles as he lifts his head when he sees you sit beside him. you meet him in the middle and kiss him softly.

“i love it in here,” he sighs. “definitely gotta bring hera around, she’d love it too.”

you smile at the mention of the cat. “wanna sit in my cozy chair?” you ask your boyfriend as you run your fingers through his hair.

vinnie instantly sits up, big smile on his face like he’s a little kid again.

it’s a wicker chair that’s hung on the ceiling, it only being a few inches off the ground.

you had put soft fuzzy blankets on it to use if anyone had ever sat there.

vinnie smiles at you when he sits in the chair, not realizing how comfortable it’d be.

it was a bit of a difference for him — being in your room with all your lights twinkling and fuzzy blankets everywhere, he loved it though.

you watched as he looked around your room and you couldn’t help but smile.

you walked over to him and sat on his lap, his hands immediately finding their home around your waist while yours rested around his neck.

you buried your face in his neck as he held you close. “might fall asleep in this chair.” your heard vinnie mumble.

you laughed and lifted your head, loving how completely comfortable he was in your room.

“its comfortable, isn’t it?” you asked with a smile.

vinnie nodded and kissed your cheek. “this might be my new favorite place,” he tells you. “with my favorite girl.”

he lifted your chin with his finger and kissed you ever so softly, the two of you holding each other in the comfortable chair just for a bit longer.

i hope you liked this and it lived up to what you asked !! 🥹 it was so cute to write

tags: @anqeliclust , @cosmicanakin , @42internetgirl , @louloulemons-blog , @lovelysturnioloos , @lovingsturniolo , @leqonsluv3r , @bernelflo , @jpg3 , @laylasbunbunny , @hallecarey1 , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @kayleighh , @slvthrs , @khxna , @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom , @visualbutterflysworld , @kriissy4gov , @nottsbabydoll , @supabhad , @defnotayonna , @violet0182

[gladiatorcunt]

- # 🍁 THE NEMEAN LION !!

feels so ugly when i’m honest

cw: afab reader, ambiguous era, dubcon coded, insp. by this ask, patrick and reader have noncon somno fantasies about the other (so rlly it’s more cnc), patrick is gross and mean, situationship/roommate!patrick, unprotected p in v sex & relying on the pull out method, weed mention and wine mention, art guest star appearance (patrick mentions him), oral (afab reader receiving), hints of: foot fetish, dacryphilia, cnc in general, plus sized!reader, mythological themes, 3k words of me losing my marbles, one use of daddy, we don’t gotta be in love you knowweeeeee i don’t gotta be the oneeee you knowweeeeeeeeew

You’re making him crazy, Patrick knows it. He shouldn’t spend his mornings humping his pillows that you hold in your lap during movie nights. He definitely shouldn’t be stealing your panties and strangling his cock with the lacey fabric that’s going to end up smelling so foul from how much he’ll use the same pair over and over. He thinks he can catch your scent on his clothes when you’ve never actually been close enough to leave a reminder of you behind. Sometimes Patrick gets so frustrated with continuing at this same snail’s pace that he wishes he could just grab your face and smush it into his musky crotch. He’d let you go if you were about to pass out, maybe. You can’t get shit twisted if you’re unconscious.

He’s telling you another one of his stories, hoping to see a twinge of… something swirling in your irises. You just hum too much and squirm a bit, ever the overactive listener. Patrick would cut off his balls if it meant that he could hear anything resembling a moan from you, not just little signs that you’re listening and not speaking. The transformer movie’s reached a point where you don’t really have to pay attention, so you cutely shuffle your mess of blankets around on the couch so you can give Patrick your undivided attention. He’s had to start keeping space in his closet for the large throw blankets you bring along even though you refuse to let him turn the fan off.

“Yeah, I was with Art actually. We ate each other out back in the day, y’know, to see what it was like. He sat on my face and fuckin’ almost broke my neck, his thighs were gripping me so tight.” He coyly tilts his head to the side, pretending to be shy about the whole thing.

He narrows his eyes and analyzes your reaction. You dart your gaze around the room for a split second, struggling to tamper down the blossoming warmth in your stomach and the insecurity that comes with never being able to catch up with Patrick. You’ve confessed to it a couple times, usually after a couple of bottles of whatever cheap alchohol he’s got on hand. His nails shred into his palms with the effort it takes not to give you something to talk about, even if you think they’re only dreams.

“When was the first time someone ate you out? I can’t be the only one shoving my foot in my mouth here.”

God, what he’d give to have your feet in his mouth, and vice versa.

You play with the fluffy black blanket in your lap, making eye contact with one of the cartoon nutcrackers on it and not Patrick as you answer his question. “Oh… I’ve actually never been eaten out, maybe that’s why no one’s made me cum.”

It’s a like his world has been hit by an unexpected asteroid and blown to smithereens, bits of membrane and curdled dna scattered across the milky way. The gross-ness imbued in his bone marrow leaks out into vaccum of space as he processes this truly fucking suprising piece of information. Never in his life has Patrick been told something that just can’t be true, not when there are still good things in the world. Not when that helpful little tidbit will split him open and take over his every waking and sleeping thought.

He shakes his head, blinking rapidly. “What? What the hell do you mean no one’s ever eaten your pussy?”

“I, I don’t know. The people I've been with have just never gone out of their way to do it and I didn't make a big deal out of it.”

His heart’s breaking in half and you clearly have no idea. Patrick scrambles to sit up and grabs your hands to stop them from fiddling with the blanket anymore. There are a thousand things he wants and needs and just has to say but all he can do in the present moment is keep shaking his head and crowding you against the right arm of his tattered gray couch.

“Then they’re so fucking stupid, I can’t believe you don’t know what it feels like to have a tongue up your cunt.” He states, a firm declaration that has you throwing out a hand on his bicep to ground yourself.

Patrick looks crazed above you, dark hair impossibly soft and pupils steadily expanding outward. You slide your hand up his arm (trying to ignore the muscle there, what it’d be like when they flex as he picks you up by your ass) to place it on his firm chest. You open your mouth, trying to cobble together any kind of response you can think of but your mind is blank. Patrick seizes the opportunity and smahes his mouth against yours, when the clashing of your lips is over there’s more blood than spit. He flicks his tongue out to catch the little drops of blood dripping from your lips, moaning after he swallows each one.

You’re catching your breath, “You… you can’t… just do that.”

He rolls his eyes and grins, “I did. I can hear you through the walls at night you know? Rubbing your pussy on one of my pillows that you think I don't know you stole, crying for me.”

Damn, that’s what you get for making risky decisions while you’re ovulating. You knew you washed it and should’ve snuck in while he was out to throw it on his plaid comforter and act like it never happened. The longer you kept it stuffed between your plush thighs, smothering it in the natural scent of your pussy, the more your shyness grew. It was easier to spend your nights like that then explore the possibility of doing something else with your time, but now you’re just wishing that you hopped on Patrick’s stupidly huge dick while he was passed out and snoring and called it a day.

“I… I’m sorry, okay? You can have it back.” You say and keep the grumpiness out of your tone, having to come to terms with hoarding nothing that smells like him anymore.

“Just shut up and be happy, be good for me.” He punctuates it with a mean squeeze to your face, slowly sliding his hand down to hang around your throat and falling to his knees in front of the couch.

Maybe it’s the cheap white wine, maybe it’s the subpar edible you had earlier, but you throw caution to the wind and sink your fingers into Patrick’s hair. Your breath happily flies out of your lungs when he pushes your knees apart, coaxing your white lace panties off with his teeth. The bright lights from the TV cast a glow around him, and you hate how pretty he looks. Like if Hercules was a modern porn star, muscles rippling and eyes spearing through you as he catapults you to the stars.

The roughness of his fingers feels heavenly as he smooths them down your inner thighs, “Nice and fat pussy, dripping all over the place. Saying hi, right? It’d be rude of me to not say anything back.”

So he does, spitting right on your clit and spreading it all over your pussy. Patrick shuffles closer and takes several big lungfuls, humping the air with every whiff of your artificial body wash combined with your much more attractive musk. He opens his mouth wide and latches onto your soaking folds, flattening his tongue and licking broad stripes up your cunt. He laps up your juices sloppily, almost wagging his tongue wildly in an effort to suck up whatever he can.

There’s a coil forming in the pit of your stomach, winding tighter and tighter with every swipe of Patrick’s wet tongue. Your face flames in embarrassment once again, you don’t really know if you look bad from his point of view but you can’t stop yourself from throwing your head back against the couch and scrunching your face up. He gives your asshole an open mouthed kiss, half to tease you even further and half because he just couldn’t resist. It was glistening and winking at him and everything.

“Fuck! Fuck! That’s so- how are you so good at this?” You mewl, raking through his hair thoroughly like you’re searching for something you lost.

Patrick’s ego grows in size and he smiles as he moves to your clit, hollowing his cheeks and suckling rapidly. He buries his face in your pussy and drinks you down in several gulps, picking up speed when you resign yourself to telltale moans about much you need to cum. He flicks the tip of his tongue against your swollen clit and slows down right when you’re apart to fall over the edge. He actually chuckles into your mound and winks when you glare at him. He cuts off whatever bratty retort you armed yourself with by going back to nearly inhaling your clit without warning.

“Ungh- I really-really fucking hate you, but don’t you dare stop, I’ll kill you.”

Each suck sends pulses shooting up your core, and that scary coil in the depth of your guts tightens blissfully. You squirm, the very definition of a hot mess as you grind against his face. The friction was never enough but you keep corralling his nose into your pubic hair, fruitlessly rutting your hips with no end goal other than the urge to hump whatever’s available. You panic for a second that you’ll suffocate him or he’ll be grossed out by you not shaving, but you shouldn’t underestimate him. If anything, Patrick groans at the heady smell. Getting it straight from the source and fucking the air during his suckling.

His eyes never stray from you. Your agonized face straight out of a renaissance painting, too strung out and burning with pleasure to resemble anything normal. Your thick thighs, jiggling with every move you make, you can’t seem to decide between humping his mouth like a bitch in heat or trying to squeeze his head like a watermelon. Your sounds, wails and cries and moans and whines, he’ll have to record you next time, play it anytime and anywhere in case you misunderstand what this is. The first documentation of how much cum and fluid you can paint him in, whatever color or thickness you’ve got for him. He’ll wring it all out of you eventually, film a home movie series to chronicle every squirting session and the like.

Gun to his head, you taste like those old fashioned butterscotch hard candies. Decadent and sweet, if he could he’d sink his teeth into the slippery supple flesh and pull and rip.

After several rounds of cruel edging, your brain whites out so hard, you can almost form the blurry shapes in your peripheral vision into a red spiked tail and horned wings. Patrick’s ruining you entirely, you know that now, and the movie’s already over but you don’t spare the scrawling credits more than a weary glance. Your soul is probably cartoonishly swimming through the putrid air towards your body, but your sweaty body is shaking too much to receive it. There’s a ringing in your ears as you blink yourself into awareness, Patrick unbuckles his jeans and a blunt pressure stretches your hole out.

“Sorry, ‘m out of condoms, I’ll pull out, baby.” He huffs out, praying to whatever’s listening that he doesn’t just start pummeling your shit.

You feel your stomach bunching up before you see Patrick’s dick disappearing into you. The feeling of being split open on something so thick has you reeling, no one else you’ve been with has left you spiraling quite like this. In a room full of dicks you’d be able to spot his, you’d just have to find the one that has the back of your throat tingling and going dry just from a sniff and a look. You’d cry if he pulled out now, it’s already too late for you. This is such a stupid decision, sloppy rough sex with your roomate-turned-situationship on his worn out couch that’s older than the both of you combined.

It’s one hell of a story, and maybe some moments in life should be allowed to boil down to that. The hand loosely wrapped around your throat tightens its hold, you welcome the thumb pushing into your mouth without prompting. The depravity of it all makes you feel owned, has you seriously considering living your life as some guy’s exclusive pet whore. The ‘squelch’s and the ‘schlick’s that come with his savage thrusts and milk white strings connecting the base of his cock to your puffy pussy.

Every breath you think you’re going to be able to take, he steals from you and mocks your whimpery “unh-unh-unh~”’s in his raspy mid-fuck voice.

“This is the only dick you’ll be hanging off of from now on, got it? Can’t let some lousy jackass try to sew his balls to this pussy when it’s not even gonna cream around him.” You say yes to that hissed demand, yes of course, Daddy.

Patrick plunges his cock to the hilt into your cunt in one sharp stroke, gasping and gripping your hip to distract himself from the way your walls are clenching around his length. Every part of you is greedy apparently, you’re perfect for each other then. The position he has you in is so filthy, he’s standing and hosting your legs up over his shoulders, folding you in half on the couch. His dirty levi’s pool around his feet and the sound of his belt hitting the floor inspires awful thoughts in you. Your sweat mixes together and trickles down your legs, sticking to his leg hair.

You can have it soft once he’s gotten this demon off his back and out of his system, you can ride him while you’re cozied up in bed, lazily rolling your hips until you get tired a couple minutes later and clinging to the caresses on your love handles. Patrick has to destroy something before he can even stand to think about putting it back together, your insides and you yourself are no exception. Your walls feel like the finest quality silk around his throbbing cock, leaking inside of you as he clutches onto your ankles. The TV’s automatically shut off by now, and the lack of background noise enhances his animalistic grunts and deep moans.

“Gonna fuck your tits next time, fuck-what the fuck-you’re too damn tight, massage them for you after, rub your cunt raw-“

Patrick fucks like he’s staking claim on a spoil of war, you’re learning, as if the pale ferryman’s hot on his heels and this sliver of time is the only sacred thing he’ll ever get in his wretched mortal life. All his, gone limp between bloody jaws and killing hands. He snarls in your face as he pounds your pussy, angling his hips to stab deeper in you than should be medically possible. You don’t when you start tearing up, but Patrick does nothing to wipe away your tears, not even lick them up. He just fucks you to the point where you’re crying, shutting his eyes as he throws his head back so you can’t see that he’s crying too. The both of you borrow from different sources of emotion.

“You sounded so scared when you were cumming, made my balls twitch, was cute.” Patrick tells you in between messy kisses, more focused on almost eating your face than properly locking lips with you.

His tongue hangs out of his mouth as he abruptly yanks himself out of you and lavishes your belly in ropes after ropes of cum. You’d reach down to dip a finger in and taste it, but you’re too annoyed at the thought that he’s depriving you of an orgasm again. You haven’t even decided whether you’re going to pout or flatbout get up and leave when Patrick’s sliding home once more. You give him a punched out gasp, sort of pained and kind of relieved, in response. He hisses through his teeth, grinding them together like it’s burning the flesh on his cock to plunge back into your searing pussy. Actively breaking and remaking you. Both of your muscles tense up as the wave threatens to crash over you.

“You can cry some more, if you want, I'd like that a lot. Beg me to save you from what I’m doing to you, to this tight pussy.”

Happy or sad, doesn’t matter. He knows you like it when he keeps you from fighting back, you suit being manhandled and made to take dick better than anyone else he’s slummed it with.

He hunches his back forward to kiss you again, and you claw red stripes down it as your tongue maps out every inch of his mouth. He pulls back and you spend several seconds like that sharing breath. You don’t realize what you’re saying out loud, things like ‘Holy shit you’re so fucking big-so good-it’s so fucking good’ and ‘Feels better than i thought it would, how is that even possible?’ It’s like your own little sex obsessed podcast, centering every episode around how situationship dick is on another level and will irrevocably destroy you. Patrick chuckles, he can’t wait to hold every treasured compliment from you over your head. You could say you’re done with whatever this is when he leaves the toilet seat up again but he’ll never forget you howling for him and his cock to never leave you.

Patrick will swing himself over the net into overstimulation before the next time your pussy’s clamping down on his thick cock and spasming, but he’ll be damned if you’re not gonna end up passed out and drooling while the sun rises. You can spend future movie nights cockwarming him, if you can stand to endure the sickeningly perfect stretch without being allowed to get your cunt beat. You’re mewling when you froth the base of his dick again, your walls pulse around him like you’re a cat laving up your favorite cream. Tonight’s not the night where you’ll be getting it straight from the source, maybe when you’re willing to take certain risks. His smiles are the most genuine when you drag out your whine to follow the speed in which he pulls out to paint your body. Tangy ribbons hanging over your love handles and dripping down to your ass cheeks.

[sicbaby]

Secret Admirer

dark!gf!ethan landry x fem!reader

based on this request

Contents: 18+ smut, obsession, mentions of blood, other bodily fluids :), ghostface calls y/n, cream pie, no protection used, lil bit of non con, lil bit of breeding kink, brief knife play, ethan is a perv

You were a freshman at Blackmore this year. You had moved from your small town and straight into New York City, desperately trying to get away from the people in your hometown. You loved it here, in New York. You were roommates with Mindy Meeks-Martin, quickly becoming close with her and her group of friends. You were thankful to have such a supportive group of people in your circle. You also felt safe knowing Chad and Ethan were right across the alley, their windows facing yours.

You even had a secret admirer. You didn’t know who it was, but their gifts were super sweet and made you blush. At first, you started receiving flowers, chocolates, and sometimes there would be a cute little note attached.

Mindy was suspicious, immediately. She would tell you to discard the gifts every single time you received one. You tried to convince her at first that it was totally harmless, but she wouldn’t buy it. You told her you would start throwing them away, but you were actually keeping them and hiding them under your bed instead. You secretly loved them.

One morning you were sitting in the kitchen, right before your morning classes that day. Mindy came in from retrieving the mail, and drops an envelope in front of you. She doesn’t say anything, but gives you a disappointed look. You open it up, and it reveals a CD. the handwriting on it was neat, and it read, “a playlist for you <3.” The handwriting was not familiar to you.

“Aww, this is so cute…” you mumbled, staring at the CD with awe.

“Cute?” Mindy asks. “That’s a whole CD. You know whoever sent that had to like, do manual labor to make that playlist? Old man vibes!” She jokes.

“It’s not an old man. I think this is really sweet, you know? They took the time to burn songs on a CD for me..”

Mindy just rolls her eyes at that. “Okay, well, now we gotta listen to it. What if it’s not even music? What if it’s… something bad…”

“Something bad? What do you mean?” you question her. She looks off to the side, suddenly growing nervous.

“Uhh, nothing… I don’t know. Just looking out for you. Is that a crime?” Mindy replies.

You roll your eyes this time, and get off of the stool you were sitting on and go to your CD player. You insert the disk and press play.

You and Mindy were sat on the floor of your bedroom, listening carefully. Then, a song starts playing through the room, and Mindy lets out a sigh of relief once she realizes it’s just music. However, you, on the other hand, were speechless. This was your favorite song. How could your secret admirer possibly have known that? You quickly start flipping through the different songs, a total of 12 on the disk. You were shocked, all of these songs were near and dear to your heart.

“What? What’s wrong?” Mindy asks, noticing your frozen state.

“Mindy… these songs.. these are my favorite songs!” You exclaim.

“Turn it off, y/n. We’re going to the police.” Mindy gets up, her hands in the air as of to say she was surrendering.

“The police?” You almost laugh. “Mindy, it’s ok, it’s just.. how did they know that?” A minute of silence goes between you two, and you start laughing.

“Y/n, this isn’t funny.” Mindy crosses her arms.

“Someone is fucking with me, right? This isn’t Chad, is it?” You laugh even more.

Mindy gags a bit. “Ew, god, I fucking hope not. I’d kill him and then myself.”

You laugh at Mindy, your worry slowly fading away, thinking this was just one of your friends messing with you. You were unsure about Mindy’s actions, however. Why did she want to go to the police so quickly? Did she know something that you didn’t? Whatever, you thought. It must be nothing.

At lunch, you were sat with everybody. Mindy, Chad, Anika, Tara, Quinn, and Ethan. You guys were at a picnic table, enjoying the free period you all had. You wanted to tell the group about the CD so bad, but decided to keep it in, afraid you’ll embarrass yourself, or the person who was sending the gifts. It had to be someone close, though.

Everyone was involved in conversation, besides you and Ethan. Being the quieter of the group, you guys liked to observe and listen to the rest of your friends. However, you felt Ethan’s eyes on you the whole time. His leg was bouncing up and down restlessly, like he was nervous or anxious about something.

“You okay?” you ask him as you place a hand on his leg, trying to stop his bouncing.

He stills completely, staring at you like a deer in headlights, before looking down at the hand on his leg. You quickly pull away, realizing how long you had your hand on his leg for. “Sorry,” you say sheepishly.

“Uh- no! Don’t worry. I’m fine. Just got a test next class.” He laughs awkwardly, and you smile at how cute he is. You’ve always thought he was so cute, but you would never tell anyone, Mindy would never let you live it down.

Ethan, on the other hand, was hoping, wishing, praying, that you would talk about the CD. Talk about your secret admirer. Say out loud how you thought it was cute, how you loved it… He wanted your attention so badly, and it was clear he wasn’t getting it. Maybe Mindy was standing in the way. Maybe you thought you were too good for a secret admirer. He didn’t know. All he knew is that it was making him angry. You were his, even if you didn’t know it yet.

That night, you were getting ready for bed in your apartment. You had just gotten out of the shower, towel wrapped around your body as you were searching for your pajamas. Your window was open, but it was so hot in your apartment, despite the cold weather outside. You were searching through your underwear drawer when you notice your favorite pair were missing. Your mind goes to Mindy, but she wouldn’t do that. You must’ve misplaced them. You quickly decided to move on from that, and get dressed. You dropped your towel, now completely nude.

What you didn’t know, though, was that Ethan was secretly watching you from his own bedroom window. He watched as you walked back and forth in your room. He watched as you dropped your towel. He thought you were such a whore. Anyone could be looking in your bedroom window right now, and see you. Only he could see you like this. You were his. He grew angry, gritting his teeth, but nevertheless, moving his hand down to palm himself through his sweats. My god, you were so hot, so sexy, and soon, you’d be all his. Whether you liked that or not.

Ethan was still pretty disappointed that you hadn’t talked about your gifts today. He was sure you were getting a little suspicious, but he was going to win you in the end anyway. That was a sure fact. In the meantime, he was going to up the gifts. He wanted to give you something special that would show his appreciation for you. Something special... The idea clicked in his mind.

As he begin stroking his now fully hard cock, he kept his eyes on you. Thinking about when he’ll get to finally fuck you. Thinking about your small hand on his leg, and how he wished you placed it just a little higher. Imagining it was your hand jerking him off, and not his. His mind was running wild, and it didn’t take long before he finally released all over himself.

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

The next morning, you received another gift, luckily you found it before Mindy. This time, it was outside of your apartment door, rather than being in the mailbox. You were nervous to open this one, but still excited. This one was in a small box.

You opened it to something wrapped in tissue paper, though there was no note. You quickly unwrapped the gift.

It was… your favorite pair of underwear? and two vials… one full of a white, liquidy substance? The other a dark crimson red.. You were confused, to say the least. Your brain wasn’t connecting the dots. You picked up your underwear, and then noticed the white substance was on it as well, making you quickly drop them and run to go wash your hands. You were mortified.

Upon further inspection, the vials were connected to their own chains. This fucker wants me to wear his cum and blood as a necklace? You thought. At this point, you were scared. You didn’t know what to do. Mindy was going to be pissed, she’d tell the whole group, go to the police. But there was a part of you that was… intrigued? Someone is doing all of this, for you? He sent his own bodily fluids, knowing you could easily take it to the police. You had to find out who it was…

Once you returned back home from your classes, Mindy still wasn’t home. You figured she was out with Anika. There was an envelope on the kitchen counter. Ok, weird. You thought. You were sure Mindy didn’t come home at all throughout the day, but you quickly brushed it off.

You took a deep breath before opening the envelope. It felt light, so thankfully there would be no more weird, bodily fluids involved this time.

You opened it to.. pictures? Pictures of you… pictures of you at school… in class.. outside on campus. Pictures of you walking home. You gasped, realizing your secret admirer has now turned into your stalker. You kept shuffling through the photos. They were pretty tame, pictures of you in public spaces, though a bit creepy. Then you reached the photos of you in your bedroom. Your eyes widen as you continue looking through them. There were pictures of you doing your makeup, brushing your hair, getting undressed… and then there was a picture of you naked, a picture of you masturbating. You didn’t understand. Who the hell would do this? How did they invade your privacy this badly without you noticing? Tears begin to fill your eyes. This cannot be happening. You have to tell someone, right?

Unless…

You didn’t know what was up with you, but you didn’t want anyone’s help. You wanted to figure it out yourself. You had your suspicious, but wanted to be one hundred percent before doing anything.

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

You wore the blood vial necklace to school the next day. You figured the cum one would raise some eyebrows..

You were hyper alert the whole day, looking to see if anyone noticed your necklace. At lunch you sat at your usual picnic table, with all of your friends. Ethan and Chad arrived at the same time, and Ethan sat next to you. You were carefully eyeing everybody, seeing if anyone was acting weird. Nothing.

Little did you know, though, Ethan was hard as a rock, seeing you wear a necklace that was his blood. it took everything in him to not just rip your skirt off and fuck you right there on the table, in front of everyone. He couldn’t believe it. He was sure you would get scared, but here you were, boldly wearing it, like you were proud to be his. He didn’t say a word the whole time, holding his backpack on his lap to conceal his boner.

You were disappointed by the time you got home. You snapped the necklace off with force and threw it on the floor of your bedroom. You felt dirty, in a way. You were frustrated too. You had no other option but to wait. Or you could go to the police, but where’s the fun in that?

You were laying in bed when you got a phone call that same night. It was a ‘No Caller ID’ but you answered it anyway.

“Hello?” you asked, confusion laced in your voice.

“Hello, beautiful.” a deep, gritty, sultry voice answered you on the other end. “It’s me. I’ve missed you... So much.” He smiles, savoring each word. He could hear your breathing on the other end, and he imagined he could feel your soft, smooth face beneath his touch. Soon, he thought. Soon…

you were a bit taken aback by the voice, as it wasn’t familiar to you. It took you a few seconds to respond. “Who’s this?”

“Doesn’t matter, my darling. I just wanted to say... I’m glad I met you. You make everything better, you know that?” He smiles. “I wanna be yours.”

“I-I-… you’re my secret admirer…” you whisper as you get up off your bed, looking out the window.

“Ding ding ding!” He yells. “I knew there was something up in that pretty little head of yours.”

“Tell me who you are..” You say, a little angry this time, your voice quivering slightly.

“What does it matter to you?” He asks, a slight tinge of annoyance apparent in his voice. He smiles widely as he speaks. “You’ll know very soon, my love. Just... Give yourself to me. Don’t resist. You’ll be mine, and I’ll be yours. Do you understand? I will make you mine. Wear the other necklace tomorrow, princess. It suits you.” You could hear his smile through his voice.

“I’m not wearing that fucking necklace tomorrow. You’re disgusting, and- and you need to tell me who you are before I go to the police!” You threaten, pretending like you weren’t absolutely terrified.

“Oh… Y/n… sweet little dumb Y/n. You won’t tell anyone.” You could tell he was smiling.

“You don’t know me..” Tears start to fill your eyes.

“Oh, I know you better than anyone. You’re mine, Y/n Y/m/n.”

“What the fuck!” You yell while hanging up the phone harshly. You dropped your phone to the ground and slowly sunk down with it, sobbing.

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

The next day, a murder. A murder in the city. Two college students killed by some freak in a “ghostface” mask. You knew it had to be your secret admirer, but you were too scared to tell anyone. You felt it was already too late.

Tara and Sam were forcing everyone to stay at their apartment tonight, finally explaining to you and Ethan the reason why. Finding out your best friends were involved with the murders last year in Woodsboro left you angry, upset, disturbed, and sick. You couldn’t be around them, despite their pleas for you to stay with them. You decided that you would be ok, since you had nothing to do with “ghostface” or any of the events prior. You would just go home, and go to sleep.

So, that’s exactly what you did. You had a night class this week, so it was dark on your way home. Your heart was beating in your chest, you knew this wasn’t a good idea. You just kept repeating to yourself that he wasn’t gonna get you, you have nothing to do with him! Whoever he was.

You sigh in relief once you reach your building. You’d finally have the house alone for tonight, something you most definitely needed in a time like this.

As you walked up the steps to your apartment, you felt like you wanted to cry. Your stomach churned with guilt, but your head was full of denial. You couldn’t wait to crash on the couch and finally let sleep overtake you.

Entering the apartment, it felt… eerie. It was silent, of course, but, too silent. Something was off, you could feel it. Maybe it’s just your anxiety. Who knows.

You slowly shut the door and set your things on the counter. You take a deep sigh and head to your room down the hallway.

Unbeknownst to you, Ethan was watching you, hiding behind a wall in the kitchen. He watched you enter, a large grin spreading across his cheeks. He smiled at you from behind the wall, his eyes sparkling. He waited until you locked the door behind you to step out of hiding; this was a new turn of events, a development that would ensure he finally got what he wanted after all. He took a deep breath, and started down the hall, behind you.

You heard heavy footsteps behind you just as you were about to enter your room. You quickly turned around to see a tall figure clad in a black robe and the ghostface mask. You let out a blood curdling scream, flinching at the sight of him, causing you to fall back onto the floor. You kept slipping on the hardwood, crawling backwards until he had backed you into a corner.

Ethan smiled wide as he took a step into the light. His eyes gleamed as his black robe came into view. “Good evening.” He says, as he took another step closer. “It’s nice to see you again, princess. And I think I’m going to quite enjoy this…” He says as he slowly takes off his mask, his brown curls bouncing from the movement.

“Ethan?” you gasp, snot and tears all over your face. You are almost at the point of hyperventilation, but upon seeing Ethan, you can get your breathing under control. “Ethan.. This isn’t- this isn’t funny!” you yell.

“…Are you sure about that?” Ethan’s tone is cold, and he looks to his side. In his hand, a knife glares softly in the lights. The look on his face, however, is one of pure delight. “I don’t know about you, baby, but I’m having a good time…” He laughs.

You didn’t find it funny, at all. Your suspicions were correct. Your secret admirer was the ghostface. You just didn’t expect it to be Ethan… it was all too much for you. Your lips tremble as you try to speak. “What are- What are you going to do to me?”

“We both know what I’m going to do.” He says calmly, his dark eyes locked on yours. His voice is sweet, and there’s nothing of concern in it. He takes another step forward, so he’s right in front of you. He crouches down to your level and reaches out a hand, touching your skin, his gloved fingers grazing your cheek.

Tears fall out of your eyes freely, you were frozen, you couldn’t move. “Please… please don’t hurt me, Ethan. I didn’t do anything… please..” you look up at him, your wet eyelashes batting up at him. the look on your face made ethan hot, his pants suddenly getting tighter.

“You did do something,” He says, the dark tone returning to his voice. “You resisted me. But you’ll make it better, won’t you, my darling?” He smiles again as his fingers trace down your cheek. “You’ll make it better, won’t you? You’ll give yourself to me, right?” His voice is tender and soft, full of false sympathy. He smiles, his eyes a little brighter in the light as his tongue traces over his bottom lip.

You cry even harder. “Why? Why are you doing this to me?!” You yell, full on sobbing now.

Ethan grins widely, a sadistic smirk growing on his face. He holds the knife to your throat, holding you down against the wall. He leans in close. “Why? Is that what you wanna know?” He laughs quietly. “The answer is simple: I love you, and no one can have you but me.” He smiles, the smile twisting into something twisted and evil.

“You don’t have to do this..” You whisper, his grip is tight, and you were trying so hard not to move against the knife on your throat.

“And yet, I want to.” He smiles. “Don’t you understand, my love? You are mine. You and no one else. You will only have me.” He laughs coldly. “You should be honored… Not all girls get to witness something like this…”

You scoff at his words, which was a huge mistake.

He drags the knife down and against your shoulder, creating a small knick, blood trickling down your arm. His expression darkens again as you yelp. “I’m doing you a favor. You’ll understand once it’s done,” he says. He laughs silently. “Now, are you going to cooperate, my love?”

You knew you didn’t have a choice. He was going to kill you if you said no. “Yes… okay..” You said weakly, giving up and giving yourself to him.

A sadistic grin spread across his lips. He looked... Proud of you? Or maybe it was just another manipulation tactic. “Good girl.” He says, gently running his fingers down the side of your face. He grabs you by the back of the neck, but his touch is gentle. Once you get up, he snakes his arm around your shoulder. You were so confused. He leads you to your bedroom door, opens it and pushes you hard into the room. He slams the door shut behind him, his dark eyes shining, suddenly becoming mean again.

You stumble into the room from his push, facing away from him. You decide to just stand there and not say a word.

Ethan smiles behind you, a low hum of approval coming from his lips. “We’re going to have a good time together, doll.” A sadistic and evil twinkle in his eyes.

You begin to cry again as Ethan comes up behind you. He can tell you’re crying and shushes you sweetly, swiping your hair to the side and exposing your neck. You can feel his breath on you as he moves closer to your ear. “Shhh, Shhh, baby. It’s okay, I’m gonna take good care of you, my little doll. You trust me, right?”

You flinch, but don’t resist. “Yeah… Yes! Yes, sir…” You say, wanting to be good for him.

Once you address him as sir, his animalistic traits almost take over. He lets out a loud groan and curses under his breath. “Fuck, baby.” He whispers, as he pushes his hard cock into your ass at your words. “You’re going to be the death of me..”

He reaches his right hand to your chin, turning your face to look at him. It’s an awkward angle, but you can see each other now. He stares at your tear stained cheeks, your puffy eyes. He couldn’t be any happier…

Your fear is riling him up, his breath hot and sweet on your cheek. Slowly, he leans in to kiss you… He kisses you for what feels like forever. His lips are soft and sweet. His breath is sweet. His body is cold and hard.

To his surprise, you kiss him back. “See what happens when you obey me…” Ethan says after pulling his lips away. He smiles down at you. “My little doll…” He caresses your left cheek before pulling another hard-to-break kiss from you. This time it feels long and even more passionate, as Ethan’s lips move to your neck. He begins to move his hand lower, and to your discomfort, or pleasure? His hand begins to move up your shirt.

His gloved hand caresses your nipple, and you let out a little moan. Your eyes widen immediately after this, hearing Ethan’s sadistic laughter behind you. You didn’t mean to do that out loud. You didn’t want Ethan to know that you were actually enjoying this. You just wanted to obey him so that he would let you go. So, why are you so turned on right now?

Ethan smiles down at you. He seems to be enjoying the control he has over you. “Don’t you like making me happy, my little doll?” He asks, continuing to kiss your neck.

“Y-yes, sir…”

He smiles and ruts into you again, making you flinch. “Good girl. You’re a good girl…” He says through gritted teeth. He caresses your face. “…Say it again.”

“Yes, sir!” You say, a little more confident this time. He doesn’t say anything this time, just pushes you again so that you fall onto your bed, on your belly. Your legs half off the bed, bent at the waist.

Ethan walks to you, roughly ripping off your jeans from your legs, taking your underwear with it. You yelp loudly at the roughness, and at the cold air hitting your cunt. Ethan stops pulling off your pants half way, and sees your glistening pussy. He laughs again, which makes your stomach drop.

“You’re such a whore, Y/n. Look at you, fucking dripping for me, and I’ve barely even touched you!” He stares at you, his hard dick feeling oh so painful now, knowing that you were enjoying this too. He reaches under his robe and into his own jeans, unzipping and unbuckling them. He wastes no time in grabbing his cock out, barely even pulling his pants down. He brings the robe up and over his cock, deciding to leave it on. He starts to stroke himself, cursing under his breath, his eyes never leaving your pussy. He loves how obedient you’re being now. He didn’t think it would be this easy. He has the love of his life, exposed to him, laying quietly like a good girl. Fuck, he loves you.

He leans over your body, pressing kisses to your back, and up your neck, until he reaches your ear. “Just know that you’re mine now, and no one can have you but me…” He groans, and pulls his lips slowly away from her. “We’ll have fun together… Won’t we…? My… Little… Doll…” He says as he slowly ruts into you between every word. You cry out every single time his cock rubs against your pussy. He loves your sounds.

“You’re going to do anything to make me happy… Aren’t you, Y/n?” A sadist’s smile is on his face, as he leans close to you once more, his lips brushing against yours. “You’re a beautiful girl. Beautiful… And now you’re mine. Only mine. And I know just how to make you happy…” He leans back as he ends his sentence, and shoves his big cock straight into your hole, absolutely wrecking you. You jump forward on the bed, screaming out, the side of your face rubbing up against your comforter.

He just laughs at your pain, and gives you no time to adjust to his length. He pulls out all the way, and thrusts into you, harder this time.

“Ethan, Ethan! Please.., fuck! ‘S too much…” You try to scramble away from him, dragging yourself up the bed, but he won’t have it. He grabs you by the waist with both hands and roughly slams you back down on his cock. You’re screaming out of pain and pleasure at this point.

“No, no, angel. Don’t fucking run away from me. You’re mine.” He growls again, landing a harsh smack to your ass. You start sobbing, not being able to take it. He mocks your cries.

“Aww, you poor baby.” Another smack. “Crying while you make a mess on my cock.” He grabs you by your hair, forcing you to arch your upper body of the bed. “Tell me,” he grits his teeth. “Do you belong to me?” The smile is now gone. He looks so cold and empty. He looks like a monster. “Tell me, I want to hear you say it. Say that you belong to me, you gorgeous doll…” He says, all while still thrusting harshly into you.

“Y-yes, yes, sir. I belong to you, only you, sir. Need you…” You somehow get out through your sobs. You were almost babbling at this point, the feeling of him railing into you almost addictive. You weren’t lying when you said you needed him.

“That’s a good girl…” He says softly, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “I want you to prove that you belong to me. You need to prove it. Prove your love for me, angel.”

You panic, not knowing what to do. All that you know right now is that his dick is hitting your sweet spot so deliciously right now.

“Uhh- I- Unghh…” You try to speak, but no words come out, just moans and groans.

“Dumb little baby. Drunk off my fucking cock.” He lands another harsh slap to your ass. It barely hurts at this point, you’re starting to really give into him now. Despite his rough thrusts, you back your ass into him, grinding against his cock. He lets out a breathy laugh at that. “Squeezing me so tight, baby. Fuck… look at you.” He says behind you, kneading and squeezing your ass into his hands, spreading your cheeks every now and then to get a full view of him going in and out of you.

The room is full of your moans, Ethan’s grunts, and the sound of him railing into your wet cunt. It’s so dirty, but fuck, you feel so good.

He knows you’re in such a vulnerable state now, and you’ll do whatever he asks you to do. He can tell you’re holding off on cumming, wanting to finish with him. He thinks it’s so sweet. You also just don’t want it to stop, you don’t want to know what will happen after you guys finish. You don’t want him to leave.

“You gonna cum, angel? Gonna finish on my cock, huh? Fuck, make even more of a mess on me, baby. I’m close too… Gonna fill you up, give you a baby. You would like that, wouldn’t you?” He asks, his pace still rough and fast, sending your eyes rolling and your tongue lolling.

“Mhm… Yeah…. Yes… Sir….” You babble, and Ethan smiles at your compliancy.

“So, so good for me, doll.” He gets even rougher as he’s nearing his high, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier.

“Fuck, Sir! I’m gonna cum…. Please, let me cum, please!” You scream out, still crying onto your bedsheets. The left side of your face is red and burning.

“Cum for me, sweet angel. I’m right there… Right fucking there…” he groans out.

As soon as he says those words, you reach your own high, screaming and crying out, cursing to the sky. You’ve never been fucked like this before. It’s almost like an out of body experience for you. Your pussy spasms against Ethan’s cock as you orgasm, which makes it hard for him to thrust, but squeezes him so hard he follows right after you.

“Fuck… good girl. Such a perfect angel. Did so well for me. All mine. All fucking mine.” He stills for a moment, and then removes himself from you, and you cry out at the loss of contact. Ethan just laughs at you, quickly sticking his cock back into his jeans. He brings his fingers down to your hole and pushes his semen deep into your pussy, making you groan underneath him.

He leaves the room for a moment, leaving you there on the bed, your bottom half exposed. When he comes back, you’re dead asleep. He smiles to himself at the sight of you while he grabs his knife, ready to leave the scene. He grabs his ghostface mask and places it on your bed, right next to your face. He’s sure you’ll see it first thing once you wake up.

He begins leaving your room when he looks at you one last time before exiting. He stares at your bare pussy, glistening with a mixture of your spent and his cum, slowly seeping out of you. He smiles. He’s finally accomplished the task at hand. Make you his, forever.

[golbrocklovely]

candid // colby brock

A/N: i know yall…. it’s been so long since i last posted anything. my apologies on that one. i just haven’t been in the mood to write anything. but shoutout to these pics of colby bc the moment i saw them, i knew i had to write a fic about them. this one is sweet and basically just a blurb, but i promise i’m coming out with a longer fic soon. i got a lot i gotta make up for, and this is just the beginning lol lmk what you think and hope you enjoy !

prompt: your boyfriend looks good one day and you decide you need to take a picture of him. || colby brock x reader

trigger warning: none, super sweet and fluffy 🙂

word count: 853

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You look so handsome today.” I smiled sweetly, staring up at Colby.

He glanced away from his phone to me, his brow furrowing sassily. “What?”

“I said you look handsome.” I repeated.

He looked down at what he was wearing: a big t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. His feet were bare, and his hair was not completely done the way he usually did it: straightened and with a bit of gel to keep it so. He had woken up from a nap an hour ago, his hair losing its flat texture for a more wavy, messy type.

He looked so beautiful, truly. But when didn't I think of him that way? I always found him beautiful, even well before we started dating.

He hid a smile at the corner of his mouth, “Really? I look a mess.”

“Not at all.” I shook my head, stepping closer to him.

He slid his phone into his pocket, locking eyes with me. His voice was low, bashful. “But you always say that about me. That I look nice…”

“Have I ever lied?” I questioned.

He twisted his face jokingly. “I feel like you probably have at least once.”

I gasped, swatting at him. “Absolutely not! You take that back.”

He grabbed my wrist, sliding his hand into mine. A playful smile rested on his lips. “You're too kind to me.”

“Maybe you need to see what you look like…” I pulled my hand from his grasp, taking my phone and pulling up the camera.

“Aww, c’mon babe. No.” He walked around the island in the kitchen, laughing halfheartedly.

I followed after him, “What? You don't want me to take a pic of you?”

“Not really, no.” He shook his head.

“Oh, coming from the guy that takes pics of me when I sleep?” I argued.

He turned to me, still backing away from me. “I only did that twice, and both times you looked so cute.”

I scoffed, “My hair was going in six different directions, and I was basically drooling!”

He grinned, his dimples appearing. “And you still looked beautiful to me.”

I held my breath; damn he was attractive… “Exactly how I feel about you.”

He groaned, covering his face. He stopped moving away from me however, leaning his one hip against the counter.

“Move your hands.” I grabbed his one arm, pulling it down. Both of his hands followed and I snapped a quick pic. His face was still partially covered, his eyes being the only part really showing.

“Maybe next time warn me about the flash. I'm blind now.” Colby blinked harshly, his eyes unfocused.

“Oh relax, you big baby.” I murmured, pulling up the pic. “See! Look how good you look.”

He gazed down at my screen, giving me a quizzical look. “You think I look good?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. He was so stubborn sometimes. “Yes.”

“My hair is so messy. I think I need a haircut.” He remarked.

I bit my lip, staring up at his hair. “I like when your hair is a bit messy.”

“I know you do. I don't, though.” He replied. 

“What? I never knew that.” I deadpanned.

He glared down at me, rolling his eyes and walking to the living room.

“Let me take another one!” I called after him.

He huffed, walking through the living room. “No. No. I think we're good with the candids today.”

“C'mon Colby, I whined, catching up to him. “You really do look so nice. Just let me take one more.”

He reached the stairs, ready to go up. “I think one is enough.”

I cut him off, jumping in front of him on the stairs. “Please.... just one more.”

“Why are you so adamant about taking a picture of me?” He snorted.

“I don't know, babe. Maybe because you're my boyfriend, and I love you, and I want as many pics of you as I can get in this lifetime?” I admitted, placing my hands on my hips.

He turned his head to the side. “Really?”

“Yeah. Plus you look really hot.” I added, winking.

He stared at me, his piercing blue eyes playful. He sucked his teeth dramatically. “Fine. But just one more.”

“Okay. Just one more.” I lined my phone up, "Pose for me, baby."

He rolled his eyes, placing one hand on his face, the other on the banister. I took the picture quickly, whispering a perfect under my breath.

Colby leaned over me, looking down at the picture. I smiled brightly. “Aww, this one is so good. What do you think?”

“It's not too bad.” He mumbled, shrugging.

“You'll grow to like it, I bet. Especially since I'm making it my background.” I smiled, already changing it to my background.

He took his phone out, following my lead. “I'm gonna make the one of you sleeping my background then.”

“As if you haven't done that before.” I raised an eyebrow at him, our eyes meeting.

Colby smirked at me. His eyes softened and he leaned in, kissing my lips. “Love you.”

My face warmed at his touch. “Love you too.”