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cressidagrey · 2 months ago

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Mr Oblivious

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Summary: Oscar Piastri is absolutely oblivious to the fact that people try to flirt with him. It drives Lando nuts. Felicity finds it very amusing though.

(divider thanks to @saradika-graphics )

Lando Norris had a very simple opinion about Oscar Piastri:

The man was smart, fast, loyal to a fault — And completely, hopelessly, oblivious.

Especially about certain things.

Like, say, the fact that every now and then, some thirsty influencer or overly-friendly interviewer decided they wanted to test their luck around one of McLaren’s golden boys.

Case in point: today.

It was supposed to be a simple media day.

Smile, wave, answer a few questions without accidentally swearing — easy stuff.

And then she showed up.

Some influencer.

Lando didn’t catch her name.

Didn’t want to.

Her outfit was orange enough to suggest she'd Googled "McLaren colors" five minutes before showing up.

Her laugh was the kind that made Lando want to put himself in an ice bath.

But what really got him was the way she locked eyes on Oscar from the moment she walked into the room.

Like a hawk spotting a particularly delicious rabbit.

And Oscar — sweet, pure, unsuspecting Oscar — stood there politely, posture perfect, nodding like he was about to explain suspension geometry to a cactus.

She sidled up to him with all the grace of a Bond girl in heels, flashing teeth and dimples and Lando could see it coming.

Could see the slow-motion train wreck unfolding with the inevitability of a Ferrari strategy call.

She sidled closer.

Tilted her head. Big fake lashes, even faker laugh.

"So, Oscar," she purred, "looking very fit this season. What's your secret?"

Lando, standing just off to the side, already felt his skin crawl.

Oscar, meanwhile, nodded thoughtfully like she’d asked him about chassis balance.

"Consistency," he said, serious as anything. "And good hydration habits. Also core strength. That’s really important for maintaining control in high G-force corners. I’ve been working with a new strength and conditioning coach. Core engagement and flexibility training. Lots of functional range mobility exercises. Very important for endurance."

Lando nearly dropped the can of Monster Energy he was carrying.

He physically turned away, took a moment to compose himself, and turned back — and she was still going.

She giggled — the kind of giggle Lando associated with botched lip filler and red flags — and twirled her hair like they were in a teen movie from 2004.

"Flexibility, huh?" she said, her voice doing That Thing™. Then winked.

WINKED.

Oscar, God bless him, nodded solemnly.

"Yeah. Critical for cockpit comfort. Limited hip mobility can lead to premature fatigue during longer races."

Lando just stared.

The influencer stared.

Oscar stared earnestly back. Oscar blinked at her with the open innocence of a Labrador Retriever about to explain knee cartilage.

It was like watching someone flirt with a toaster.

And then — then — she tried it.

She went for the kill.

"Well," she said, laughing in a way that definitely wasn't natural, "maybe you could show me some... flexibility exercises later?"

Lando choked on air.

Oscar, bless him, just looked mildly puzzled.

Lando’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

Oscar thought she wanted workout advice.

Meanwhile, this woman was basically trying to climb him like a tree.

"I mean," Oscar said, frowning thoughtfully, "I guess? If you’re interested in physiotherapy protocols? There's a lot of hip flexor and thoracic mobility involved."

He paused.

"Although," Oscar added very seriously, completely unaware he was standing in a verbal minefield, “you should always get a doctor’s clearance before starting any high-intensity exercise program.”

The influencer blinked.

Lando stared at the heavens.

Why.

Why had the universe given this man a marriage, a child, and a heart of gold, but no flirting radar whatsoever.

Lando was so angry on Oscar’s behalf he actually saw red.

Because it wasn’t just the flirting.

It was the disrespect.

Oscar — who had a wife who fixed racing models better than half the paddock. Oscar — who had a four-year-old daughter who beat engineers at Sudoku. Oscar — who literally carried his entire family in his heart wherever he went.

He wasn’t available.

He wasn’t interested.

And he damn well deserved to have people respect that without needing to tattoo MARRIED. TAKEN. HAS A BUMBLEBEE-OBSESSED DAUGHTER across his forehead.

And then — because clearly the universe wanted to personally test Lando’s self-control — the influencer winked.

Like, full-on, slow-motion, cartoon-style winked at Oscar.

Oscar blinked back, confused.

Then said, very seriously:

"You should also stretch regularly to avoid cramping."

Lando actually made a noise — somewhere between a groan and a dying animal.

The influencer tried to recover, laughing awkwardly, but Oscar had already turned — calm, unfazed — and was politely thanking the PR rep for organizing the media day.

Lando stormed over, practically vibrating with protective rage.

"Mate," he hissed when Oscar finally wandered off-stage, "you realize she was hitting on you, right?"

Oscar frowned. "Was she?"

"YES," Lando hissed, arms flailing. "She was basically ready to throw herself at you!”

Oscar looked genuinely perplexed.

"But... I’m married."

"YES," Lando repeated, louder, like he was explaining quantum physics to a pigeon. "You are married. You have a kid. You are the dictionary definition of off-limits."

Oscar scratched the back of his neck.

"Maybe she didn’t know?"

"She definitely knew," Lando muttered darkly. "You are actually wearing your wedding ring for once and Bee’s little bead bracelet. You might as well walk around holding a sign that says 'I love my wife and daughter more than oxygen.'"

Oscar shrugged, entirely unfazed.

"I mean... it’s true."

Lando stared at him.

Somewhere between admiration and absolute rage.

When they reached the McLaren motorhome, Felicity was there — perched on the couch, Bee asleep with her head on Felicity’s lap, Button the Frog tucked under her tiny arm.

Oscar’s whole face lit up like a sunrise.

He crossed the room without hesitation, dropped a kiss onto Felicity’s hair, and gently stroked Bee’s back.

Felicity smiled up at him, all soft and warm and easy, like they had a language no one else could hear.

Lando stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching it all unfold.

Watching how Oscar's whole world just locked into place around them, without hesitation, without second thought.

Yeah.

Let them flirt. Let them try.

Oscar Piastri had everything he needed right here. And he was smart enough — good enough — to never even glance anywhere else.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter:

@/F1TeaSpill: BREAKING: Influencer tries to flirt with Oscar Piastri.

Oscar responds with “core strength” and “doctor’s clearance.”

Meanwhile, Lando Norris nearly combusts in the background.

[attached: video clip]

@/pitlanechaos: Not Oscar offering that woman a PHYSIOTHERAPY REFERRAL I’m losing it. He thought she wanted professional advice. He’s too pure for this world.

@/felicityfanclub (pinned tweet):

‼️OSCAR PIASTRI IS MARRIED

‼️HE LOVES HIS WIFE

‼️HE LOVES HIS DAUGHTER

‼️HE IS OBLIVIOUSLY LOYAL

‼️AND WE ARE HERE TO DEFEND HIS GOLDEN RETRIEVER ENERGY

@/formulawoah: This man said “consult your doctor” instead of realizing she was flirting. He’s not oblivious. He’s loyal at a molecular level.

@/landohmygod: Lando Norris being 1 second away from lunging across the paddock like an angry chihuahua deserves its own Emmy. He was FIGHTING for Oscar’s honor.

@/suspension_nerd: If I was that influencer and Oscar hit me with “thoracic mobility is important” when I was trying to flirt, I would simply evaporate on the spot.

@/gridgossip: This man has a wife who fixes telemetry errors in her sleep, and makes him bento boxes everyday. AND A DAUGHTER WHO BEATS ENGINEERS AT SUDOKU. What did you THINK was going to happen??

@/F1psychology: Watching Oscar Piastri react to flirting like it's a sports injury safety video is the most fascinating psychological case study I’ve ever seen. Also, Lando's visible rage is priceless.

***

Oscar waited until Bee was down for the night.

She’d fallen asleep curled up around Button the Frog, one arm flung dramatically across her pillow like she was staging a nap-themed protest. He’d kissed her forehead and tucked the blanket under her chin, switching the night light to its soft pink glow before slipping out of her room on quiet feet.

He figured... if Felicity was going to hate him, she probably shouldn’t have to do it in front of their daughter.

Which was stupid. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

But the pit in his stomach wouldn’t go away.

He was sweating, suddenly aware of how clingy the collar of his t-shirt felt. His hands wouldn’t sit still — twitching, tapping, twisting his wedding ring around and around until the skin beneath it burned.

He felt fifteen again. Awkward and uncertain and too full of words he didn’t know how to say.

And then Felicity padded into the living room, hair twisted into a lazy bun, bare feet soft against the floorboards, wearing one of his old McLaren hoodies that hung off her like it still didn’t understand how it ended up lucky enough to be wrapped around her.

She looked soft. Tired. Safe.

She smiled when she saw him, sweet and a little sleepy, like she was expecting him to ask about what tea she wanted or whether he’d remembered to order oat milk.

Oscar nearly chickened out.

Instead, he sat up straighter — awkward and abrupt — and blurted:

"Someone tried to flirt with me today."

Felicity blinked.

Tilted her head slightly, eyebrows raised — curious, not alarmed.

"Okay," she said, in the same tone she might use if he told her they were out of clean towels.

Oscar frowned.

"No, like — really tried. At a media thing. In front of cameras."

She just blinked again. Still calm. Still patient.

Still not mad.

Just... waiting.

Oscar swallowed.

"And I didn’t realize it was flirting until Lando nearly had an aneurysm."

That earned him a real laugh — soft, sudden, surprised. The kind of laugh she gave him when Bee said something absurd or when Oscar accidentally fixed something in the kitchen by whacking it with a shoe.

It went straight to his chest.

God, he loved her.

"And I was worried—" he continued, words stumbling out now like they’d been dammed up too long, "I was worried you’d think I was — I don’t know — encouraging it or — or being stupid, or not noticing because I wanted to miss it—"

Felicity crossed the room in three quick steps, not breaking eye contact once.

She dropped onto the couch beside him, slid her legs over his lap like she did every night, and tucked herself against his side like she’d always belonged there.

"You thought I’d be mad," she said, amused, "because some random influencer tried to flirt with you?"

Oscar nodded miserably, guilt still clinging to the back of his throat.

Felicity pulled back just enough to look up at him.

Eyes shining. Smile small and full of something dangerously close to laughter.

"Oscar," she said slowly, "I saw the whole video. You tried to offer her hydration advice."

He groaned, already regretting every decision he’d made since opening his mouth.

"Please don’t remind me."

"You told her to stretch her hip flexors," Felicity said, delighted. "Oscar, you sounded like a yoga instructor trying to scare off a client."

"Bee probably would’ve handled it better," he muttered, rubbing at his face.

Felicity laughed — a real one this time, head back, eyes crinkled, full-body kind of joy.

Oscar melted a little.

She curled closer, arms winding around his waist like she didn’t intend to let go anytime soon.

"I’m not mad, love," she said gently, brushing her nose against his shoulder. "She never stood a chance."

Oscar blinked down at her, stunned. A little breathless.

Felicity grinned up at him.

"You are so... mine, it’s not even funny."

She said it like a joke. She said it like a truth carved in stone.

Both were true.

Oscar let out a long, shaky breath, tension finally bleeding out of his chest.

"I just didn’t want you to think—"

She kissed his cheek, quieting him with the ease of someone who knew every version of him — the champion, the kid from karting, the dad who braided Bee’s hair with frog clips.

"I married you," Felicity whispered. "I know exactly who you are. I trust you with my life. And frankly, if anyone tries to flirt with you again, I might just send them a condolence card."

Oscar laughed, startled and in love and still trying to figure out how he’d ever ended up this lucky.

"And also," Felicity added, smirking like a fox who had absolutely won, "it’s way too funny to be jealous about."

He buried his face into her neck, overwhelmed by the warmth of her, by the sharp edges of her wit and the soft edges of her love.

"You’re ridiculous," he mumbled, muffled by her skin.

"And you," she said, threading her fingers through his hair like he was something precious, "are very bad at realizing when people want you." A beat. "And your brain is permanently stuck on ‘wife good, daughter best, car fast.’"

Oscar smiled, eyes closed, letting her steady him with nothing more than her heartbeat and her presence.

"You really aren’t mad?" he asked, still half-disbelieving.

Felicity leaned back, just far enough to look at him fully — bright-eyed and ferociously sure.

"Oscar," she said solemnly, "you are the most obliviously loyal man I’ve ever met. If I had to design a loyalty test, it would look like you."

Oscar kissed the curve of her throat, slow and reverent.

"Good thing I only ever wanted you," he murmured.

Felicity’s arms tightened around him, like she could will him into her bones.

"Exactly," she whispered.

Exactly.

#formula 1 #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfiction #f1 smau #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 grid x reader #f1 grid fanfiction #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri #Oscar Piastri fic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #op81 fic #op81 imagine

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dingo-saurus · 2 years ago

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slept a full 9 hours and am still not paying the fatigue tax so i've Gotten Started on helping my body get used to moving again w/ gentle exercises fingers crossed i'm able to keep it up

#pre-testosterone when my back was even more deeply fucked i got given very gentle exercises for strengthening my back + core in general #so we're starting there. nice n slow #and making use of my standing desk again #once i can be confident my body won't fold like wet cardboard as soon as i pick up a weight maybe i can dig out my old dumbbells #fingers crossed

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writeriguess · 2 months ago

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Can you write a Katsuki x female reader where you have an enemies with benefits relationship? Smut. Everyone thinks you loathe each other but reality is you fuck in secret, but you don't love each other, at least you're not supposed to. (Pls include hints of secret feelings)

Not Supposed To

The argument starts like all the others.

“God, you’re fucking insufferable.”

You toss your gloves down on the locker room bench and glare at Bakugou, whose smug sneer only sharpens. His eyes follow you like he’s daring you to say more.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

“You almost blew my leg off during the exercise, again.”

“Then maybe don’t stand where the action is, princess,” he growls, leaning against the locker with his arms crossed. “Not my fault your reaction time’s dogshit.”

You take a step toward him. “My timing’s fine. Your ego just can’t handle anyone else on the field.”

He laughs, low and sharp. “Tch. You wish you could keep up.”

The air between you snaps, heavy with something that isn’t just anger. It never is.

The door clicks shut behind the last student leaving. Silence drips like oil.

You don't move. Neither does he.

Then, Bakugou mutters, voice dark and low, “You gonna keep yappin’, or do you want your mouth full of something useful?”

You shove him.

He slams you back against the lockers in one fluid movement, big hands gripping your wrists, his knee slotting between your thighs.

“And there she is,” he mutters, pressing his forehead against yours. “Little miss perfect, acting like she doesn’t beg for it when the doors are closed.”

“Fuck you.”

“You do. Constantly.”

You hate the way your breath catches. The way your core throbs, already clenching from the memory of the last time he bent you over the shower bench and made you sob into the tile. You’re still sore. You always are.

“God, you’re such an arrogant—”

He kisses you before you finish, hot and bruising. Teeth clash. Hands fumble.

Clothes hit the floor.

He drags you into the supply closet, barely big enough to stand in. You don’t care. You’re already undoing his belt, and he’s tugging your shirt up over your head with greedy, calloused fingers.

“You think I don’t see the way you look at me?” he rasps against your neck. “Like you want to tear me apart.”

You moan when he bites just below your jaw, a possessive mark for no one else to see.

“Because I do,” you whisper.

He growls, spinning you and shoving you against the wall. “Then say it.”

You glare over your shoulder. “Say what?”

“Say you need me.”

You almost spit out a curse. Instead, he yanks your hips back, one hand tangling in your hair, the other sliding between your thighs. His fingers slip through your slick folds, slow and taunting.

You gasp.

“That wet already?” His voice is a snarl. “Shit. And you say you hate me.”

“I do.”

“You’re such a fucking liar.”

He shoves into you without warning, one brutal thrust that knocks the breath from your lungs. You gasp again, nails scraping the wall, legs shaking.

“God, you feel—fuck—tight every time.”

His hand wraps around your throat—not squeezing, just holding. Possessive. Like he owns you. Like he always has.

“You want everyone to think you can’t stand me,” he pants, thrusting hard, fast. “But you take my cock like it’s the only thing keeping you sane.”

You bite your lip so hard it bleeds.

“Say it, baby,” he hisses. “Say you need it.”

“…Need you,” you whisper, broken.

“Louder.”

“Need you.”

“That’s my girl.”

You hate that phrase. You hate that it makes your stomach twist. That your heart stutters. That your chest aches with something hot and dangerous and forbidden.

Because this isn’t love.

It’s not.

You’re not supposed to want him like this. Not beyond the sex. Not beyond the anger and the heat and the raw, bruising want.

But he says things like that. In that voice. And your body forgets the rules.

He pulls out and flips you, lifts you onto a stack of gym mats with reckless strength, then thrusts back in deeper, angrier, more desperate. His mouth crashes into yours again—less cruel this time, like he needs to taste you.

“Fuck—Katsuki—”

Your voice cracks. His name breaks between your teeth.

You’ve never called him that during sex before.

His pace falters for half a second. Just one.

You both feel it.

His hands tighten on your waist. “Say it again.”

You try to look away.

“Say it.”

“Katsuki.”

He slams into you with a groan, face buried in your neck now. “Fucking hell. Don’t call me that unless you mean it.”

You do.

But you don’t say that. You can’t.

So you dig your fingers into his back, arching as the climax tears through you, hot and fast and blinding. You fall apart with his name on your lips.

He follows with a curse, grinding in deep, holding you close as if he can’t stand the thought of space between you.

Silence.

You both breathe like you’ve run ten miles. Your heart pounds loud enough to echo.

He doesn’t let go.

You don’t move.

You should.

You should say something sharp. Cold. Dismissive. That’s how it works. That’s the deal.

But his hands are still on you, too gentle now. His head rests on your shoulder, and you can feel how his fingers tremble just a little.

He whispers something against your skin.

You don’t catch it.

Maybe that’s for the best.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bnha #mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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httpsserene · 1 year ago

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Lando smut driveroom after hia dnf🫠🫠

dnf therapy — 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫��𝐝 #1 | #4 | #16 | #44 | #55 | #81 x fem!reader blurbs. requested! explicit sexual content. hurt/comfort. sexual propositions. depressed charles. mercedes f1 team slander. sir kink. face-sitting, vaginal sex, masturbation, voyeurism, blowjobs, cunnilingus, angry sex, shower sex (all light or implied).

synopsis: what goes down in their driver’s room with you after a dnf.

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. river baby, this one’s for you xxx we all know what inspired this one lmao !!! i will not be doing extended fics for any of these, they are quick drabbles as a little writing exercise for me!

⌕ join taglist | requests & feedback | upcoming chapters | table of contents ↻

𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧, 𝐦𝐚𝐱 #𝟏

You’ve never found Max’s skill for talking endlessly annoying or draining. In fact, you can recall telling him that hearing him eagerly explain about racing or other topics that interest him is attractive, multiple times. However, you’re not sure if you can withstand much more of him rambling through a retelling of every single lap he raced before he had to retire, looking for any possible point where he could’ve done something different to prevent it.

The two of you are sitting on his small couch, pressed side to side, and you’re offering small nods of agreement and hums of understanding during his pauses between words that echo in the small private room. His helmet was shoved in a random cubby, his balaclava draped on top of it but, he hasn’t made any other progress in taking off his race gear. His gloves are still covering his hands as he fiddles with the straps around his wrists, his race suit and boots still properly secured, the smell of sweat and gasoline–the scent of man alluring to your nose–the heat of his body radiating against your side instigating the warmth that floods your cheeks, and the sound of his lisp curling seductively around his speech prompting less than pure thoughts as your heart flutters and thighs press together.

Max is unaware of the sudden twist in your thoughts as he verbally attempts to calculate just exactly where he could’ve improved his outcome, his voice rumbly with an undertone of displeasure, when you cut him off.

“Let me make it better,” you offer.

The Dutch driver cocks his head at you, his expression confused and humored, “How can you make my DNF better? I do not think you can go back in time and—”

“No, Max,” you interrupt, teeth tugging at your bottom lip gently, “Let me sit on your face.”

Visibly, you see his breath catch and eyes widen. His mouth opens and closes as he tries to formulate a response, tongue flicking out to dampen his lips as he thinks—before his pupils blow large, and he swallows audibly.

“Oh,” Max starts, finally tugging his gloves off and tossing them to the floor, then moving to undo the strap of his race suit, “That would make it better.”

𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 #𝟒

He’s pacing the small length of the room angrily, ranting about his retirement loudly enough that you know it’s seeping through the thin walls. You stare at him with a slightly concerned gaze, getting slightly annoyed as his race suit tied low on his hips threatens to smack you in the face every time he turns around.

You’re well aware that Lando is quick to anger and brood as he freely makes everyone aware of where the blame needs to be placed. But, the dark and unyielding look in his eyes leads you to believe that he’ll be a little too real to the press today and you would hate to have to deal with a simultaneously enraged and ashamed Lando once he realizes what he said. Then, you’ll have to comfort him as he overthinks his words and doom scrolls through Twitter to see what people are saying about him. You would like to sleep tonight, so you can’t have him embarrass himself today. Thankfully, Lando’s a man, a very simple man at his core.

You stand up from the couch and pull off his hoodie that you stole. Lando continues to rage and pace, not aware of your movement. You undo the buttons of your shirt, shrugging it off to stand in your bra and jeans. Lando doesn’t notice your state of undress until he spins around to find you topless and shimmying your jeans down your hips.

“Um,” Lando stutters, eyes fixed on your tits, “Why are your clothes off?”

“Get over here and fuck your anger out,” you command, “So when you talk to the press, you don’t say the stupid shit you're telling me now.”

Lando mumbles and pouts offended as he scrambles to lose his race suit, “‘s not stupid shit.”

You roll your eyes and reach out to tug him forward strongly, humming as the length of his body knocks against yours, easily stuffing your hand down his fireproofs and kissing on the meat of his neck, “mhm–I’m sure it isn’t.”

𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 #𝟏��

The room is silent as Charles blankly stares at the wall, you’re not sure if he is aware of your hand comfortingly scratching along his back. He only offered words of exhaustion and depression as he slipped quietly into his room and curled next to you as he dissociated from his retirement.

You’ve tried everything. You cooed soothingly, you complained about the result, and you even loudly expressed how terrible you think the car and Ferrari are and he didn’t say a single word. He simply continued to stare at the wall, his suit and helmet still on, visor down, and expression unreadable. Anxiously, you shifted next to him, not used to experiencing Charles this out of it. And suddenly, the idea came to you. Breaking the silence, you suggested giving him head to relieve his stress. Charles said no. Your brow furrowed perplexed at his denial; he’s never rejected a blowjob before. You took it one step further and offered to let him fuck it out of you (you were previously adamant on the “no sex in the driver’s room” rule because sound carries), and you were sure the Monegasque was about to say yes before he shook his head violently like he was forcibly removing the thought, and mumbled something along the lines of, “I don’t deserve it.”

That is something you will not let slide. Charles doesn’t need to punish himself after he’s already out of the race, but if he won’t allow himself to indulge in you, you’ll strongly encourage him to.

“Okay, Charlie,” you whisper, “If you’re sure.”

He doesn’t zone back in until he hears your whimpers seep into the air, snapping his head to look at you. He finds you with one hand tugging at your nipple and your other hand shoved under your skirt—from the movement, he can guess that you’re two fingers deep. You hear Charles choke audibly and you can’t help but toss your head back and giggle, the laughter turning into a moan of pleasure as your fingers pass over a sensitive spot.

“I-I think–merde,” Charles cuts himself off as he stares at your show, “I think I’ve changed my mind.”

The helmet stays on.

𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐥𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐬 #𝟒𝟒

You’re unsure if Lewis is even mad about his retirement. The man seems mentally deranged as he laughs gleefully about ending his race early. Understandably, he is complaining about the bottoming of the car and the hell it’s wreaking on his back–so, maybe the joy is justifiable, your man is…older.

The thing is, Lewis switches from rambling about his back pain to complaining about Mercedes and repeating how he can’t wait for a change in scenery at Ferrari. In the Mercedes motorhome. Loudly. You know he’s doing it on purpose based on the vengeful look in his eyes. He recalls almost every single moment the team dismissed his critiques and suggestions, every single moment they didn’t appear at his podiums, every single moment they thought he wouldn’t leave, every single moment they took him for granted. And, Lewis is more than welcome to express his grievances—but you would still like him to leave on good terms as Toto did promise you a custom G-Wagon (not that Lewis can’t get you one himself; you would just hate to see him ruin his connections).

Lewis also can’t help being hot. He sits comfortably splayed out on his couch, a towel tied loosely on his hips from his shower, chest bare as beads of water fall downwards and get caught in the maze of his toned abdomen, his tattoos become art pieces as you appreciate the sight fully. He continues to partake in his amusing one-man conversation as he clasps his chain around his neck—and you break.

“Let me suck your dick,” you blurt out, cheeks flushing, surprised at your own words, “...sir?”

Lewis pauses, raising an eyebrow at you from where you’re leaning on the room door.

“Well, I don’t know why you’re still standing over there if that’s what you want. Kneel.”

The sound of your knees hitting the floor sings in the air, “Yes, sir.”

𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢, 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 #𝟖𝟏

Oscar’s already sequestered himself away in his room before you were able to intercept him on his way. The mechanics are lowly gossiping about how mad he was when he pulled himself out of the car and they watch after you in fear as you make your way to your boyfriend.

Oscar? Mad? He’d never take it out on you, there’s no reason for the mechanics to be worried. Except when you enter the room, the vibes are peculiar. Oscar’s calmly folding his race suit, boots tucked away into their proper place, standing in just his fireproofs—they compliment his body well, extremely well. He turns to look at you and there’s a smile on his face as if he hasn’t retired from a race. He opens his arms for a hug, and you hesitate for a moment before fulfilling his request. His arms wrap around you warmly and he nuzzles his face into your hair, pulling back briefly to press a kiss on your forehead before tightening his embrace. It feels more like he’s comforting you than you’re comforting him. He walks the two of you backward to his couch and pulls you down to sit on his lap.

Somehow, Oscar brightens more, “Hi, baby,” he grins, hands moving to fiddle with the hem of your shirt.

“Uhh, I’m sorry about your race?” Your tone of voice is unsure.

“Oh,” he laughs dismissively, “It happens sometimes–it was listed in the job description.” His right hand slips underneath your shirt as he speaks, moving calmly to tug the cups of your bra down underneath your chest, squeezing lightly at the plush weight in his hand.

You’re convinced he’s severely concussed, but it doesn’t stop you from arching towards him, your hips rolling forward unconsciously, “Ummm— ‘s there a-anything I can do to help?”

Oscar’s hand draws out of your shirt and halts the grind of your hips in a flash, he coos at you, “Aw, that’s so sweet of you to offer…let me fuck your tits—please?”

What were you going to do, tell him no?

𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐳 𝐣𝐫, 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 #𝟓𝟓

You’re going to slam your head on the corner of the sink and hope it knocks you out. You’ll do it if means the sounds of Carlos’ whining stop. He forcibly pulled you up on the counter of the sink and told you to stay put as he showered so he could talk it out to you.

Naively, you thought the sound of the shower running would muffle his words and you were wrong. On any other day, you would be fine to support him through his complaints but your period is due to start in a couple of days and the irritation and sore muscles are already affecting you. Originally, you were eager to watch Carlos shower—that’s a sight plenty of women and men alike would kill you for. Then, the glass fogged with steam depriving you of something to ogle. And, if there’s one thing a woman is experiencing besides pain, sensitivity, and anger before her period, it’s being horny. You rationalize your thought process as you get undressed; Carlos gets some stress relief and you get to hear moans and grunts of pleasure instead of his huffing, grumbling, and whining.

You slide the glass door open and closed as you step in the shower, completely bare except for the necklaces, earrings, and anklet with the #55 charm he gifted you randomly, “Carlos, por favor, be quiet.”

The Spanish man’s mouth is agape as he stares at you, frozen in the middle of his motion of scrubbing soap along his arm, “¿Qué?”

You roll your eyes, tugging the soapy cloth out of his hand and setting it on the shower shelf, “There’s better things you could be doing with your mouth.”

Carlos blinks, returning to the present and sinking to his knees in the too-small shower.

He stares up at you with his big, sweet, lust-drenched, brown eyes, his hair a mess from the spray of the shower, and his voice cracking as he speaks, “Yes, definitely.”

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girlietips · 3 months ago

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Random Beauty Big Sister Advice 💐💋🪩

Here are my random big sister beauty advice! Enjoy!!!

Fix your posture

Some of you did not get pinched in the shoulder blades when you were slouching growing up and it shows

Every time you sit or stand up take the time to roll your shoulders back. Just do it as a little reminder everyday (multiple times) and your posture will improve.

If you can’t hold it without it becoming uncomfortable or tiring you need to do some core workout (a lot of inner core specifically) because that means you muscles aren’t strong enough to keep your spine strong. Which also means you can be more susceptible to injuries.

As much as you hate it healthy is 100x prettier than unhealthy.

Almost all the beauty standards are based on your health.

Proper diet and exercise will make your skin glow and your hair shiny.

Under eating or eating junk shows on your face and hair.

Muscles are sexy

I swear to you there is no way for you to become “bulky” by picking up weights.

You need to strengthen train for that toned look.

In order for your muscles to get really bulky you have to be in a pretty heavy calorie surplus be hitting a very high protein level. You also have to have the gene to build bulky muscles and the bone structure which is not as common in women. You can’t really do it on accident.

Even women who can put on muscles really fast are not bulky they are built. It’s giving she hulk and it’s hot.

To look put together you have to do the 2/3rds rule.

Only one part of your outfit can you neglect. Either your hair, makeup, or outfit. But it should never be your hair.

Learn to do really quick easy hairstyles and you will never have bad hair. I am almost always in Dutch braids because they are simple and I can do them quickly.

Also adding jewelry always gives your outfit more flare.

Learn how to alter clothes always have cute clothes.

You can find really simple tutorials to turn that body tank top into a fitted tank so easily.

Usually you just need a needle thread and scissors but if you have a machine you can do so much.

Do your nails

If you don’t like color or fake nails make sure they are always filled and clean.

Nails can be extremely cheap or extremely expensive you just gotta find what works for you.

Get a good nail oil as well for extra care.

Your body is not the problem you just don’t know how to dress and compliment her.

Stop looking at girls whose body is nothing like yours for outfit inspo.

Depending on your proportions things can look vastly different on different people.

Figure out your body type and shopping gets so much easier.

That’s all for now I might continue this series slowly but I just ended my spring break and classes have started so if I disappear don’t worry I’m just being an academic weapon.

Xoxo💋

#that girl #it girl #girlblogging #glow up #self care #self love #coquette #becoming that girl #healthy #healthyliving #big sister advice

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hencheri · 5 months ago

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— sex advice

▸ 18+ mdni.

you have an obvious crush on your tutor, chenle, and he takes advantage of your feelings for him when you innocently ask him for sex advice.

| pairing. tutor!chenle x fem!reader

| warnings. heavy dubcon, chenle's an asshole, manipulation, choking, spit kink, unprotected sex, degradation, loss of virginity, innocent!reader.

| wc. 2.8k

⤷ part of my 1k event.

the library is mostly silent apart from the occasional whispers of other students and the sound of fingers typing on keyboards. it’s almost become a daily occurrence for you to be here, to be sitting at the exact same table at the far back of the library, hidden behind multiple rows of books.

it’s embarrassing to admit, but you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for your low gpa… and the few classes you’re failing. it’s not on purpose, of course, but you don’t have the longest span of attention. it’s quite short, in fact.

you were desperate for good grades and your friends suggested to ask someone to tutor you. you were reluctant at first, way too shy to ask anyone for help, but as the C’s and D’s kept coming in, you had no other choice.

“that’s gonna be all for today,” chenle announces, a heavy thud resonating as he closes his textbook. he turns to look at you and you bob your head, showing that you understand. he watches you wordlessly for a long second, eyeing you down. “you did great,” he says and your eyes slightly widen at the compliment.

“really?” you ask in a small voice.

he nods curtly, looking back up at you. “yeah. you understood everything quite well, you were even able to do all the exercises without my help.”

you can’t help but feel your stomach flutter at his words. you’re surprised you performed well today because all you remember doing was staring at the way his hand gripped his pen as he wrote down the exercises and his lips parting as he explained them to you.

“thank you,” you mumble, a timid smile drawing on your face.

“you earned a reward, don’t you think?” chenle says, watching you eagerly bounce your head immediately after. “come closer,” he instructs and you do just as he says, dragging your chair closer to his.

when he deems you close enough, he takes a hold of your jaw, tilting your chin upward. he hovers just above you, his breath fanning across your face as he tells you to open your mouth.

you part your lips and you whimper when his spit lands on your tongue. you shut your mouth, and chenle doesn’t even have to remind you to swallow it before you do.

the faintest grin tugs on his lips, passing the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. you look at him like a desperate little puppy, frowning and pouting. if only he’d go further than that…

“such a good girl,” he purrs.

you feel a little giddy as he retrieves back his hand and you start rubbing your thighs together, feeling a wave of heat travel down to your core. you bite down into your lip, already missing chenle’s touch.

“you should pack up our stuff now,” he then instructs, leaning back against his chair, passing his fingers through his hair.

you get up and collect all of the things scattered on the table, his expectant eyes following each one of your movements making you a little nervous. you slip his textbook into his backpack as well as his pencil case and laptop. once you’re done, you zip up your bag, putting the strap over your shoulder.

you scurry behind chenle as he walks to the exit, struggling to pick up with his pace. he stops before reaching the door, turning back to you.

“i’ll see you next week.” he takes his backpack from your hands, pulling his car keys out of his pocket. “keep on with the good work, yeah?”

you dumbly nod your head as you watch him pushing open the door of the library, and you stand there uselessly, trying to ignore the wetness in your panties.

—-

“i’m sorry,” you apologize bashfully, hurriedly putting your books down and getting your coat off your shoulders.

chenle watches you closely, clearly annoyed, his tongue pushing against his inner cheek. you sit down panting, brushing your fingers through your hair, wanting to look presentable as you finally face him.

“i wanted to get here early, but i left my books at home, so i had to go pick them up… then my car got stuck in the snow,” you explain, trying to make him understand that it was really not intentional. you let out a chuckle to ease up the mood, but chenle doesn’t seem to find it funny.

“you could’ve just borrowed one from here,” he sighs.

you feel stupid for not having thought of that. you look down at your lap as your face burns in embarrassment.

“i know you’re not the smartest, but you could’ve avoided all this unnecessary trouble…” his voice is firm, almost condescending. “...if you just had thought about it for a little longer.”

after a second of heavy silence with just him staring you down and you avoiding his gaze, he shrugs, turning to open his book.

“let’s continue from where we left off.”

you listen to chenle and everything goes well, you’d say, except for the few times he has to correct you on your answers. this chapter seems a little bit more difficult, but it’s probably due to your racing thoughts. you don’t mean to get lost in your mind every now and then, but the tight knot you felt at the bottom of your stomach when chenle was scolding you is still very much present.

you nod at each one of his explanations, scolding yourself mentally when you focus too long on his hands or face. he hums approvingly when you get the right answers and when you summarize what you understood.

it feels good to have his approval after you quite clearly disappointed him.

“how much did you get on your last test?”

you stop writing, glancing up from your sheet of paper. you meet chenle’s gaze and register his question; you did mention to him last time that you had a test, still waiting on its result.

“uh, i got a B-,” you reply, nibbling down on your bottom lip as you study his expression. it doesn’t change much, doesn’t even lift up or falter.

“that’s great. good job.” he nods in acknowledgement and you mumble a quiet ‘thank you’ in return.

you wonder for a moment if he will give you a reward for it, but he doesn’t say anything else, so you go back to your sheet of paper. you try to continue the exercise and you find yourself unable to get back into it. you’re just too distracted.

chenle quickly catches on it. “what’s the problem?” he questions, raising his eyebrows quizzically at you.

you open your mouth and close it, not sure how you should address this. should you even share it with him in the first place?

you’ve been thinking about it a lot, and you don’t know for how long you can keep it to yourself. it might as well slip off your lips one day.

you eventually sigh, tilting your head toward him. “... please, promise you won’t judge me?”

chenle is intrigued now. what could you be worrying your little head about? “i promise,” he says and you think he sounds truthful.

“okay, um…” you take a deep breath, not knowing where to look, opting for your lap as usual. “i’m not sure how to say this, but…” you begin to mumble, shifting in your seat, chenle’s eyes never leaving you, “i was wondering if you could help me with something else.”

he arches a brow, the corner of his lips tugging upward into a playful smirk, your shyness amusing him. “and what is it?” he asks.

“i- i’ve never had sex before, and… i know you have a lot of experience,” you bluntly admit, already feeling your cheeks getting warmer. “so i wanted to know if you’d accept to help me… with that.”

you almost deflate in your chair when you hear chenle’s laughter, slowly turning your head to see him smiling, chest heaving at each one of his laughs.

you wish you could bury yourself six feet underground. why did you say that? you should have just shut it. you’re so dumb. so stupid.

his laugh eventually fades, sighing softly. you bite the inside of your cheek, holding back your tears, but your eyes shoot up when a sound of agreement escapes his mouth.

“sure,” he shrugs, “i guess i can give you a hand with that, too.”

you gratefully pack his things when the time comes, feeling like there’s a weight off your shoulders. you really thought it was a silly idea—a perverted one, too—but your relationship with chenle isn’t what you could call ordinary…

“aren’t you forgetting something?” he calls after you before you can leave, halting your steps as he approaches you. you look at him with wide eyes and he only smiles, grabbing your chin. “open,” he orders and you do so.

you’re surprised when he slips two of his fingers inside your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. you close your lips around him, but he tuts, making you open your mouth again. he spreads his fingers apart, one on each side of your tongue, and he leans down over you, collecting saliva in his mouth. he purses his lips and lets his spit fall into your mouth.

you gladly accept it and swallow it once he has removed his fingers. he wipes his digits over your pants in two motions, looking at you one last time with a grin on his face before walking away.

your hand clenches around the strap of your bag thinking about what happened and what will happen. your crush on him is really innocent, it was never supposed to be more, but the fact he agreed to your request, makes you think that maybe it can go further than just him being your tutor.

—-

“... and that’s my room,” you announce, stepping aside to let chenle in.

your teeth sink into your lip as he looks around, seeing the many plushies decorating your bed and dresser, your beauty products organized on your desk amongst the school supplies. his eyes go over your entire room, noting the overly feminine aesthetic of it.

you play with your fingers as chenle walks over to your dresser with hands in pockets, not really knowing what to do or say now that he’s here. you curse yourself mentally, thinking that you should have never proposed that.

he grabs a baby blue dolphin plushie off the dresser, turning it around to inspect it, finding the pink ribbon tied in a bow around its neck cute. he puts it back down, finally facing you, still standing in the same spot as earlier.

“kinda childish,” he observes, “but it fits you.”

you’re not sure if it’s meant to be a compliment, but you nonetheless thank him in a small voice and he smiles in return.

he glances at your bed and decides to take a seat on it, the mattress dipping under his weight. you take hesitant steps toward him and he follows you with his gaze, seeming almost malicious.

“so, um… how do we do this?”

he gestures to you with a nod of his head, making place for you on the bed. “come here.”

you execute yourself and sit down, turning your torso toward him. he shifts closer, placing a hand on the back of your neck and bringing your lips to his. it’s slow and gentle at first and you find yourself leaning into the kiss, moving your lips over his, even though you don’t really know what you’re doing.

chenle pulls back and you can see his lips shining in both of your spit, making you want more of him. “this was your first kiss, wasn’t it?” he lightly chuckles and you give him a shy nod. “i could tell… it felt like kissing a dog,” he snorts.

you gulp, blood rushing to your cheeks. “i’m sorry,” you apologize, voice low, a little shameful.

he only hums in response, his eyes going down to your pouty lips. he then brings you back to him, but this time, he takes full control of your mouth and you have a hard time following him. he kisses you expertly, taking your breath away.

but you squeak when he traps your lip between his teeth, biting down hard. he lets go of you as you flinch away, looking at him with a frown, but he just stares back at you blankly. you can feel the trace of his teeth inside your mouth when you pass the tip of your tongue over it.

“chenle…”

he rolls his eyes at your whine. “if you back away from a simple kiss, how do you expect me to teach you anything?” he scolds.

he’s right. it’s only the beginning and you’re already acting like a coward. chenle is way more experienced than you, you know you have to listen to him, but was the bite necessary?

you scoot back to him and your knee knocks into his. chenle seems impatient now, taking a hold of your neck again. he crashes his mouth on yours and you moan at the clash of your teeth. he brings you down to the mattress, hovering over you.

your hands fly to his t-shirt, twisting the hem between your fingers. his palm moves to your throat and his other hand pins your hips down, fitting himself between your legs. you feel his bulge rubbing against your clothed pussy and the temperature of your room suddenly rises up.

chenle breaks the kiss and backs away a little to be able to lock eyes with you. you’re breathless already, mouth agape and lips all swollen.

his hand that was on your hip slides down your stomach, fingers sneaking under the band of your leggings. you gasp when his rough fingertips come directly in contact with your bare folds that are, without surprise, sticky with your arousal.

“virgins are always so wet,” he almost growls and the look in his eyes takes you aback. chenle seems… hungry, his pupils totally dilated. “and you’re fucking soaking just from that little kiss.”

chenle pinches your clit between his thumb and forefinger and you flinch from the sudden sting. the pain fades away as he rubs circles on you, the pleasure quickly building up in you. you can’t help but let out a small gasp.

“you don’t even need prep… i bet that hole is already all nice and wet for me,” he says, accelerating the pace of his fingers. the coil at the pit of your stomach tightens and you feel your orgasm approaching really fast.

he watches your brows knitting together as you buck your hips against his hand, hands and legs shaking, shocks of pleasure passing through your body.

his hand leaves your panties after that and you’ve barely recovered from your high that he moves you to the middle of the bed, flipping you on your stomach. his movements are fast and chenle doesn’t waste any time. you don’t like how he’s treating you, and you’re confused by his rough behaviour. this was supposed to be helping, not… degrading.

“chenle, this isn’t… i don’t-” you stop in the middle of your sentence, fear settling in you as he grabs a fistful of your hair and lifts your head up, his mouth right beside your ear.

“you’re a good girl, right?” he asks and you frown, your pout deepening. “you let me handle it. you’re too fucking dumb to do anything useful anyway.” his voice is stern and cold. it’s not like he’s never spoken to you like this before, but right now it hurts. has chenle thought so lowly of you all this time?

you feel tears kissing your eyes, gasping as he pulls your leggings down your thighs along with your panties, exposing your private parts to him. you feel the air hitting your bare skin and goosebumps travel your skin.

you look over your shoulder and you get the glimpse of him fumbling with the belt of his pants, dragging his zipper down. he hooks his thumbs under his briefs and tugs them down, freeing his hard cock out. your breath itches in your throat when he pushes at your entrance, and even though you’re covered in your slicks, you still feel a burning pain at the intrusion of his length inside of you.

“it hurts, please, chenle…”

he doesn’t respond, focusing on your pussy literally sucking him in, gritting his teeth as he thrusts all the way in. you’re so tight he can’t even breathe.

he leans over you, his chest flushed to your back. his fist clenches around your hair, shoving your head into your pillows, some of the stuffed animals on your bed falling to the side, others hitting the floor.

“pleasure comes with pain, baby,” he whispers, “get used to it.”

#[ ★ ] dark content #— ☆ starring dream #w/ chenle !#nct smut #nct x reader #nct hard hours #nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #nct dream imagines #chenle smut #chenle x reader

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jobean12-blog · 4 months ago

Text

Work It Out

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (modern day au)

Word count: 900

Summary: You’ve been away for the weekend on a work trip and when you return but don’t contact Joel immediately he worries.

Author’s Note: the pic below nearly ended me. His arms are just🥵🔥 I just had to write a little something! Hope you enjoy! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always❤️❤️❤️divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy🥰

Warnings: Joel is worried about you but he’s soft about it, implied sexy times, fluff

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

He steps off the treadmill and grabs the towel dangling from the handrail, mopping the sweat from his face.

Dropping to the mat he gives himself a few minutes to recover before working through a set of core exercises.

He would never admit that keeping busy without you would mean daily visits to the gym to work out the restless need he felt.

How many more hours?

Once his abs are burning, he gets to his feet and moves to the bench press. But instead of lying down, he slips his phone out of his pocket for the hundredth time.

Eleven thirty.

You should be home by now. Why hadn’t you text or called yet?

With a hard swallow he lays back and tries to focus on the exercise but when his phone buzzes on the floor he jerks up and grabs it, sighing when he sees it’s Tommy calling.

He doesn’t bother to answer, knowing he’ll just be extra grumpy and instead scrolls to your name. His finger hovers over the button and then he curses under his breath and nearly chucks the device across the gym.

He’ll give you another half hour. After that he’s going to check on you.

The drive back had been slow and boring, just like the whole weekend of work. They never made these conferences any fun and you were so ready to sleep in your own bed with Joel.

Your phone is nearly dead when you walk through your door and you drop it onto the coffee table, planning to plug it in and call Joel as soon as you pee.

Tiredness takes over quickly and you shuffle to the kitchen, searching for something to eat. When you have a snack in hand you head back to the couch and grab your phone, seeing that the screen is black.

Where is your charger? Most likely buried somewhere in your bag.

You’ll just close your eyes for a minute then get up and get it.

Joel sits for maybe ten seconds after he makes the second call and it goes to your voicemail then he vaults off the bench and out of the gym, his hands unsteady as he looks for the keys for his pickup.

“Fuck.” He turns in a dizzying circle, finding nothing, and willing his phone to make some noise.

“Where the fuck are you baby?” he says to himself as he finally spots his keys and heads for the truck.

You wake to the sound of your door being practically kicked in and jackknife off the couch, screaming so loudly the neighbors must hear.

You’re probably being robbed.

Wakefulness collides with reality, and you start to focus.

You’re not being robbed. Not unless some sweaty, almost six-foot, grumpy guy with narrowed eyes has fallen on really tough times.

“Joel?”

He doesn’t move, he just stares at you, chest heaving with heavy breaths.

“You never answered my call. Didn’t even ring. Right to voicemail.”

“What?”

He swallows hard, his voice rough.

“You were supposed to call me as soon as you got in. I never heard and then I couldn’t get through…”

All at once, his words click, and you slowly stand.

“Oh, Joel baby, I’m sorry. I just wanted to sit for a minute. My phone died and I was going to plug it in. The drive made me so sleepy…”

He lets out a loud exhale and then without warning, barrels toward you like a missile to scoop you into his arms.

Instantly, he buries his face in your neck and breaths deeply, gathering you closer.

“Did you break any laws getting over here?” you ask, a smile playing on your lips.

“Probably all of them but I don’t give a shit. I was worried.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, and you inhale against his skin, letting the combination of soap and sweat seep into your body.

He walks you over to the couch and turns to sit down heavily. You have no choice but to wrap your thighs around his hips and straddle him on the couch.

Your cheek lays against his warm shoulder and you lift your fingertips to dance along his bare arm, tracing along the muscles that are flexed tightly with the way he’s holding you.

“I missed you,” he whispers.

You lift your head to make eye contact, momentarily silenced by the look of pure, undiluted adoration in his eyes.

“I missed you too.”

His attention falls to your mouth, and he leans in, finding the pulse at the base of your neck and spreading warm air across your fluttering skin, kissing you there.

Slowly, torturously, his lips move all the way to your ear. “Shower with me.”

You give him a little sniff and a playful smile.

“Very funny,” he deadpans, shifting so you can feel him between your legs.

You let out a gasp.

His head moves and his lips graze yours, holding the position without kissing you for a beat and you nod, your mouth brushing his.

He stands from the couch with you in his arms, walking toward the bathroom and letting you slide down his body until your feet touch the floor where he crowds you against the wall.

“So soft,” he praises in your ear as his fingers delicately trace the skin on your stomach just above your pants.

Your nails dig into his biceps, and you thrust your hips toward his, chasing the feel of his body.

“Don’t rush me angel,” he murmurs into your skin. “I wanna savor every gorgeous inch of you.”

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x you #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal x reader

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liviawildrose · 5 months ago

Text

𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟

time to step into your new era

get in, babygirl, because we are rebranding ourselves today.

that version of you? the one still clinging to self-doubt, bad habits, and an outdated mindset? she’s done. she’s served her purpose, but let’s be honest—she’s not the one who’s going to take you to the top. she’s not built for the life you dream of. she’s not the girl who walks into a room and makes everyone turn their heads. she’s not the one who dominates, who wins, who commands respect just by existing. so what do we do with something that no longer fits the vision? we rebrand.

your current self isn’t allowing you to be the greatest. she’s comfortable. she’s predictable. and let’s be real—she’s holding you back.

think of the brands you love. the ones that keep winning. they never stay the same. they evolve, they elevate, they reintroduce themselves to the world in bigger, bolder ways. you are no different.

this isn’t about pretending to be someone else. this is about becoming more you than you’ve ever been. rebranding yourself means:

this is your moment. this is your next era. and trust me, they won’t be ready for you.

let’s talk about taylor swift

taylor swift is one of the biggest artists in the world because of her talent but also because she knows how to evolve. and not just in music, but in life.

here’s the thing: she’s still the same person we fell in love with when she was a teenager. she didn’t erase her past—she built on it. her core identity? still there. her kindness, her ambition, her storytelling? untouched. but what did change?

her mindset. her perspective. her habits.

she saw what wasn’t serving her and let it go. for example, in her early years, she was more open, trusting easily. but after the kanye and kim drama (yes, we know the one), she learned the hard way that not everyone had good intentions. instead of letting it destroy her, she became more guarded, more strategic. she still loves people, but she’s no longer naive. and that’s growth. even physically, she rebranded. she used to slouch her posture made her look tired, drained. but she worked on it, did posture exercises, and now? she stands tall, commands attention, and radiates confidence.

and let’s not forget the ultimate move i.e her shift from country to pop. staying in one lane would have limited her success. so she changed. she expanded. and now she’s one of the most successful artists of all time.

and the best part? she didn’t run from her past she used it. instead of hiding from the criticism and betrayal, she made an entire album, reputation, and turned pain into profit.

that’s what rebranding is. not pretending to be someone else. not erasing your history. but looking at your past, learning from it, and making it work for you.

so, if you’ve had toxic friendships? journal about it. analyze it. use it to recognize patterns and never fall for them again. if certain habits are making you small, tired, or unnoticeable? drop them. add new ones that elevate you.

your past is gold. use it. refine it. become unstoppable.

think about luxury brands like chanel and ysl icons that have stood the test of time. they didn’t throw away their history to stay relevant. instead, they evolved while keeping their core identity intact. chanel is still the epitome of elegance and sophistication, but the collections it puts out today feel just as fresh, sexy, and desirable to younger generations. it didn’t suddenly become a streetwear brand or chase trends it simply refined itself, adapting in a way that keeps it just as powerful and respected as it was decades ago. that’s how you rebrand without losing yourself.

i know the intro is very long, but it’s needed because I don’t want you guys to think that rebranding is completely becoming someone new because unfortunately people on social media have literally made rebranding look like “ forget the person you are and become someone entirely different” like no. i want you guys to embrace yourself because that is literally how you develop self-love. the most annoying part about these influencers are the fact that they promote self-love as well as talk about becoming someone new. like what the fuck- if you really love yourself, why would you try to become someone else? you don’t have to become the internet definition of that girl. you have to become your version of that girl. you have to become your version of a high value woman.

how to rebrand yourself

alright, girls, class is in session—buckle up, because i’m about to give you a step-by-step guide on how to completely rebrand yourself and your life.

step 1: develop an unshakable amount of self-love

before we do anything, before we change a single habit, mindset, or appearance you need to build a foundation of self-love. this isn’t just the starting point but it’s something that should grow and evolve with you throughout your journey.

the first step? forgiveness. forgive yourself for everything mistakes, missed opportunities, bad decisions, even the situation you’re in right now. look yourself in the mirror and say: “from this moment forward, it’s only up from here. i refuse to let myself be in this same place again, because i love myself too much to let that happen.”

take yourself seriously. no more self-sabotage, no more excuses. from now on, you are your biggest priority.

and here’s why self-love is so important when it comes to rebranding because you are working with yourself. the person you’re becoming? she is built from who you are right now.

the body you dream of having? it will come from the body you have right now. so why hate the one that’s going to create your future self?

the mindset, confidence, and glow-up you desire? it will grow from the mindset you have right now. so why hate the version of you who’s actively trying?

if you’re reading this, you’re already taking the steps to evolve. so stop hating yourself for trying. love yourself, appreciate your effort, and watch how quickly you begin to manifest your dream life.

step 2: get crystal clear on the person you’re becoming

all right, now that you’ve built your foundation with self-love, it’s time for claritybecause you can’t become her if you don’t know who she is.

who is your higher self? how does she dress? how does she speak? how does she carry herself? how does she react in tough situations? what habits does she have?

now, let’s be real this might take time. you might only have a rough idea right now, and that’s okay. clarity comes with action. you don’t need to have every single detail figured out at the start, but you do need a general vision. maybe you know she’s more confident, more disciplined, has longer hair, or is an actress. great. we’ll refine the details as we go, but for now, let’s start getting specific.

how to get clear on your future self

1. create a pinterest boards

throw in anything that resonates with you—the fashion, the energy, the lifestyle. don’t overthink it. just pin what feels right. personally, my “my life” board has over 484 pins, my “fits” board has 848 pins, and my “mindset” board has 124 pins all this helped me to become crystal clear on my vision.

2. use the freeform app (if you have an ios device) or on a paper

draw a rough sketch of your future self—yes, draw her. even if you’re not great at drawing, create a visual representation. next, create a mind map around her. break it down: style, scent, career, habits, personality etc anything that resonates the best part about freeform? it’s limitless. every time you realize a new quality you want, like staying calm under pressure and you can add it in. but if you don’t have a ios you can do it on a paper too. (especially if you make a manifestation book and do it-)

3. make a “mindmovie.”

visualize your future self and watch it dailywhether it’s through a digital vision board, a slideshow, or even a physical notebook. repetition is key. the more you see it, the more you become it.

4. journal

journal on prompts that helps you reflect on who you wanna be

getting clear on your dream self isn’t just about fantasising it’s about creating a blueprint for the life you’re about to step into. so start now, and refine as you grow.

step 3: start acting like her

now that you have a clear vision of your dream self, it’s time to start acting as if you already are her. no, you don’t have to wait until you “have your dream life” you start living it now, in the smallest ways possible.

this step is all about embodying the identity of your higher self now, instead of waiting for some future moment. the more you act like her, the faster you will become her.

1. upgrade your daily habits

your dream life is built on the tiny habits you do every day. ask yourself:

• what time does she wake up?

• how does she take care of her body?

• what kind of content does she consume?

• how does she treats the ones around her?

start implementing these habits one by one. you don’t need a full glow-up overnight small changes add up fast. you need to get 1% better everyday that’s it as i mentioned in my take yourself seriously blog

2. change your environment

your surroundings shape you more than you think. look around and ask yourself:

• does my space reflect the person i’m try to become? (if you live with your parents rn cause a lot of you are teenagers ig; then atleast focus on keeping your wardrobe and room clean)

• is my room clean, organized, and aesthetic? or is it messy and draining my energy?

• do i surround myself with things that inspire me? in my game of life blog i mentioned the importance of environment so yeah this is basically it.

make small upgrades rearrange your room, add vision boards, photos that make you happy (your childhood memories, my family, friends etc something to look at and feel the need to change for you and them), quotes or a plant omg i have such a cute witchcraft ritual for plants i’ll talk about it in upcoming blogs apart from this declutter anything that doesn’t serve your future self.

3. master your energy & presence

how you walk, talk, and present yourself affects how people see you—and more importantly, how you see yourself.

• posture & body language: stop slouching. walk with purpose. sit up straight. move gracefully. if your ideal self is a model then walk like a model. and even if not walk confidently be the boss

• speech: speak clearly, confidently, and with intention. no more mumbling or saying things like, “i don’t know…” you do know. how does you ideal self speak like? in a sexy sultry way? in a fun lighthearted way? what kinda vocabulary she uses? upgrade your vocabulary! and how many languages she knows? learn a new language!

• eye contact: look people in the eye. this instantly makes you feel more powerful. again how does she looks at people? siren eyes? doe eyes? bambi eyes? facial expressions etc i mean it every small detail

4. upgrade your style (within your means!)

dressing like your future self doesn’t mean spending thousands on a new wardrobe it means curating your style to align with who you’re becoming.

• invest in quality over quantity (even if that means just one or two staple pieces).

• start wearing colors, silhouettes, and accessories that match your dream self’s aesthetic. (do your colour analysis on chat gpt, understand what looks good on you)

• take care of your grooming healthy hair, clean nails, and glowing skin always elevate a look. go visit a dermatologist, dentist, gynaecologist etc (i’m serious, book an appointment with a dermatologist now 🔪)

5. make decisions like her

before you do anything, pause and ask:

“what would my future self do?”

would she say yes to this opportunity? would she hang out with these people? would she react emotionally, or would she handle it with grace? start thinking like her, and soon, you will be her.

this will turn you into your highest self and you wouldn’t even realise it when you’ll become her completely to the point you don’t even need to ask yourself “what will my future self do?” you will know exactly what to do

step 4: master manifestation

your highest version is literally you, you’re her she’s you. it’s all in you you’re the creator.

start making manifestations a part of your life not a chore. the life you’re living right now is literally the manifestation of all your thoughts, routine, actions etc manifestation is literally like breathing you’re doing it all the time your subconscious is working all the time

start by subliminal audios that helps you get to your goals and eft tapping mentioned in my glow up enhancing blog so go read it.

other things like

act as if? (i already told y’all this, embody her.)

visualisation

affirmation all the time

use crystals

use manifestation book

meditate

be positive all the time

become spiritual (or at the working of universe)

witchcraft (optional)

i will let y’all know more about this manifesting tips in my upcoming blogs too this one is getting too long

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yessirplease69 · 5 months ago

Text

❝Above The Clouds & Among The Stars❞

Synopsis: Moments belonging to the relationship between you and your childhood friend, which has evolved over time. Caleb still believes that hiding his feelings from you is the most suitable choice.

✈ Content: caleb x fem reader, caleb headcanons, nsfw, explict sexual content, suggestive (mature content), drama, angst, fluff, reader being slow for not realizing how caleb is in love with her, caleb being so loving, caleb being possessive, reader is a virgin, the final part maybe happens just before the explosion?, there are many references that are found in the history of the game.

✈ Word Count: 4K

♫ Caleb playlist on Spotify: here.

a\n: ✎─ It's been so long since I posted here, finally college gave me a break. I wrote this while listening to ♫ Tinashe - Cold Sweat ♫ 50 Cent - Just a Lil Bit ♫ so you guys could say these songs were playing on the radio in the garage (spoiler lol). I feel like he would listen to songs like 50 Cent's, it really fits his style... Hope u enjoy it!

Caleb, during his high school years, is part of one of the senior classes and he has been assigned the role of class monitor for Physical Education. Although he is not in the same section as you, his role is incorporated into your core subjects, which means you encounter him more frequently in the gymnasium or in other sports areas. Occasionally, you bump into each other in the hallways, despite both of your schedules being different.

Caleb, who is popular and has many admirers, is not interested in any of them, although receiving numerous love letters and gifts. This prodigy boy frequently finds himself being questioned by friends and older acquaintances about the mysterious girl who has captured his attention and heart. Caleb endures the teasing about this while rolling his eyes and sporting a slight smile on his lips. It seems that no one has yet realized that it is you and your magic behind it all.

Caleb, who is always looking after you, ensures that you have all the necessary items for school, helping you choose the appropriate gym clothes for physical exercises and new supplies. This includes preparing breakfast for you and his Gran, washing an apple, and packaging it perfectly for you to take for a snack. He always wears a radiant smile on his face as he takes the strap of your bag to secure it on his left shoulder, since his right shoulder is occupied by his backpack. Caleb never allows you to take it back, as it is difficult to go against the strength of this man, who stands at 6 feet 3 inches tall, and you simply have to accept this, even if you grumble from the passenger seat of his car all the way to the school entrance.

Caleb, who has always been so affectionate only with you, is constantly touching your arms, back, cheeks, waist, and tenderly kissing your hands, even making random drawings on their palms while he is captivated by you as you excitedly share about your day. He is the type who loves physical touch and believes it creates a connection between souls because he loves you so deeply that it hurts, and this man feels that pain when he touches you. Most of the time, it is an innocent affection, and he just wants to have you close, as it is not possible to have more than that.

Caleb, who sees you growing physically and mentally with each passing day, becomes possessive and jealous of anyone who looks at you in a way that only he is allowed to. Every night before going to bed, you have conversations about boys, hoping to hear the same response come from his lips: "Don't trust those guys, pip-squeak. You still don't get how they can be mean and shady." However, with all the strength he has left, he tries to ignore it all and pretend that it does not affect him, especially since it should not interfere with your romantic or sexual life... Oh, in a rather convenient way, he will interfere with that.

Caleb, who has a toned and defined body since he exercises a lot to maintain it and prepare for when he becomes a fighter pilot in Deepspace Aviation. This boy is huge (in every sense), looks like a fridge with a chest and back as solid as iron, and he always fears breaking you when you are in his arms of pure muscle. It is inevitable not to notice teenage girls from different grades drooling when he is exposing his defined torso while walking out of the boy's locker room with the other guys. Your friends often ask you for his number, and you do not understand why you are making a sour face at them while a strange feeling hits you.

Caleb, who is naturally very skilled at winning plush toys from the claw machine. He has left his entire collection for you, however, it is still likely to find a single cute and fuzzy stuffed animal in his room, comfortably sitting on the dresser next to his bed. He always thinks of you whenever he looks at it.

Caleb, who is fucking other girls while thinking of you. It is obvious, he is an 18-year-old teenager in the process of development, and it is not possible to confront testosterone because he needs to satisfy the urges that puberty presented to him. However, he cannot remove you, your scent, or your beautiful body from his mind, and even less can he touch you as he desires because he is afraid of breaking the bond you both formed in childhood. Thus, releasing this carnal desire while he is burying his cock in some pussy out there is all he can do or imagine.

Caleb, who never walks around the house without a shirt on because he would not want to make you uncomfortable, and It is not necessary for Grandma to correct him for such a lack of manners, since his well-being is what matters most to him. But, on a weekend morning when the ladies of the house were still in bed, Caleb did not mind having to dress completely after he took a shower. Coincidentally, you had woken up quite early and caught him nearly naked in the kitchen preparing your favorite meal, with the poor boy displaying a surprised expression when you harshly told him to cover the visible marks left by feminine nails on his back. He never imagined that you had cultivated a feeling like jealousy before beginning to act roughly with him for the rest of the week.

Caleb, who splashes water on you while you are washing the dishes, and it is hard to explain at what moment the scenario turned into a war. The scene repeats when you are enjoying the summer by the pool, and the atmosphere shifts when Caleb ceases to laugh and gazes at you with a different intention in his eyes. You observe the dark-haired boy approaching, unaware that he is gripping the edge of the pool to contain the desire to kiss you.

Caleb, who maintains a very healthy routine at home and school, where you can always find him doing push-ups on the floor or running on the grass of the football field. You are seated in the bleachers with the girls when he notices your presence from miles away, and the way he flashes the purest smile while waving in your direction leaves you feeling confusingly irritated at the moment you see your friends fanning themselves and sighing loudly in unison like bitches in heat. You will blame him for making you feel this way or create reasons for it, using your anger to write unflattering things about him in your facade account book. This silly guy is completely oblivious to these details, you are ignoring him so that he follows you down the hallway, questioning what might have happened. Heaven, he is playing your game and blaming himself too, until you relent upon noticing his face marked by puppy-dog eyes.

Caleb, who tries not to look when you are doing a squat exercise in front of him at the gymnasium, feels his cheeks flush pink every time your knees bend, presenting an indecent view of you. Fortunately, this man is very composed and will act as if nothing has happened, hence, you will see Caleb turning his head to another corner while he coughs awkwardly. He condemns himself for having such thoughts about you, and motivated by this fact, he feels the need to avoid you, using this justification in his mind to hang out with his friends instead, for example. He needs a distraction. Yet there you are, calling him with a sweet and pleading voice, hoping to get help with your homework or to fix the bathroom socket so you can use it. How can he say no?

Caleb, who is such a respectful boy, walking down the hallway and noticing that you had forgotten to close the bathroom door while you are showering. He is simply closing it slowly, intending to prevent you from being startled or thinking that he is a pervert. Not that he is not.

Caleb, who begins his training as a pilot at Skyhaven, makes a promise to take you to the clouds as soon as he returned home during his military leave. It was a spring afternoon when he wrapped his pinky finger around yours, and the casual conversation about the planes he mastered made you sigh with shining eyes. After all, who could be better than him to make you fly in the sky? Besides his incredible piloting skills and placing your safety first, this man has the power to manipulate gravity. If you were ever flying over Linkon City and were about to fall to the ground, he would use his abilities to maintain control and balance until landing. This man would never let you fall in life.

Caleb, who is automatically attracted to you and it does not require much effort on your part unlike other women. It seems that he becomes more enchanted when you compliment the delicious flavor of the meals he prepares. It is always a new achievement when you are humming and squinting your eyes with his food in your mouth. It means he is feeding you well, a task of the day completed.

Caleb, who allows you to sleep in his bed, with him, on rainy days with intense thunderstorms. You fall asleep together, your head resting on his chest as he holds you tightly while raindrops patter against the window. If he has an obligation the next morning, you will find breakfast laid out on the sheets along with a note that has a good morning message filled with childish and silly drawings. But if he does not have any other engagements, you will wake up to a kiss on your forehead or a teasing pinch on your cheek. Even when Caleb is away, he will leave the door to his room open just so you can rest there whenever you wish. You would not mention it, but you often spend more time in his room than in your own. His scent is everywhere, and when your nose detects it, only then do you feel comfortable enough to be lulled into sleep.

Caleb, who practices combat moves with you whenever he is home after being away for an extended period. Despite having become a Hunter, your fighting skills still need further refinement. And seriously, he is an excellent teacher, it is no surprise that he received praise during his time as a class monitor in high school. This man is calm and highly experienced, he will teach you each movement correctly, and as a diligent tutor, he will explain countless times, regardless of how many times you stumble and fall onto him until you successfully land a hit. You can feel the tension in his triceps as they constrict around your neck in a rear naked choke. "One wrong move and your enemy could end your life just like that." His breath caresses your neck and he remains in that position for a few seconds as he analyzes how your body is reacting pressed against his. The grip becomes weaker, your blood circulation stabilizing and there is an indication in your reaction that your oxygen has been lost, even though he did not apply much pressure to your neck. It is as if he suddenly perceives the atmosphere becoming more intense, prompting him to exert effort to soften the situation when you hear his sweet voice: "Someone here needs to step it up, or else they're not getting any of Caleb's decorated cookies!"

Caleb, who has no idea how he has made you feel attracted to him, your childhood friend, as you have labeled him. He has not even noticed how you hold your gaze on his violet eyes for a bit longer, the way your chest rises when your breathing becomes frantic, how your voice suddenly trembles, or how your body responds when he is too close. However, you will witness Caleb feeling confused and concerned about some of these behaviors as he innocently asks you if you are unwell. He will even place his hand on your forehead to check it. This charming individual is putting you in the palm of his hand; he does not tire of teasing you by pressing you against the refrigerator when he finds you wandering the kitchen late at night, solitary and restless, nibbling on something. Sometimes, it is not even intentional, you know, it is simply the seductive nature that Caleb possesses.

✈ ✈ ✈

The smell of gasoline mixed with grease is overwhelming and nearly clogs your nose as soon as you set foot in the large garage at home, the reason for the odor justified upon finding Caleb sitting in one of the old armchairs, deeply focused on fixing what appeared to be a car part. The radio is active on the Linkon City FM station, the device accompanying several tools scattered on the table. This place has been transformed into the man's personal space, as more airplane and car-related items are found on the shelves. Grandma and you now refer to it as Caleb's garage.

"Aren't you going to join us at the table for lunch?" Your voice is demanding as you lean half of your body against the doorframe, arms crossed while questioning the man, who does not look at you. His car is parked on the other side of the area, and you notice that the hood is open.

"Just give me a few more minutes and I'll finish up here." He finally responds to you, still immersed in the work that his hands are performing. The old white tank top that clings to his torso bears dark stains that reveal the product used, and your eyes complete their inspection of the mess displayed on Caleb's pants and across the skin of his arms.

"Busy playing with your toys, huh?" Feeling curious, you approach the Lamborghini to see what is demanding so much of the man's attention. A smile adorns his lips, and you hear a low laugh resonating in the Caleb's throat. He leans forward, rifling through the box on the floor filled with equipment.

"Aaand... clean girls can’t come in here." Caleb studies you from head to toe for a moment, the tease playing on his lips with a smile, which broadens when he sees you roll your eyes.

"Before I leave, I'm telling you not to touch me with that dirty hand, Caleb." Your teasing retorts against him. "Go take a shower before sitting at the table, 'kay?"

"C'mon. My hand isn't even dirty, bossy brat." The tip of his boot hits the floor, driven by the beat of the music that starts playing from the device. He is moving the toolbox aside after grabbing what he wanted. "I'm gonna do a test and jump on your bed to stain your pretty white sheets."

"Pfft! You." One of your fingers is pointing towards his serene smile, which conceals all the little mischiefs. You watch him twirl a heavy object between his fingers, disregarding how you have placed your hands on your hips while gazing deeply at him.

"Stay away from the sharp tools, I'm telling you too for the twentieth time this week." He makes it very clear to you, despite not giving a firm look to affirm his words. Caleb do not want to witness the scene of you slipping in the puddle of gasoline that had formed on the floor and hitting your head against one of the saws and axes attached to the wall.

And, oh, you are doing everything except listening to him. That is why he feels you are about to do something reckless as your hand approaches the sharp edge of the object. Before the tip of your finger fully touched it, an unnatural force exerted itself upon your palm, pushing it away. You shot a piercing glance at the man seated, intending for it to penetrate him like the blade you were willing to touch.

"You're so stubborn." Caleb is staring at you, remarkably calm, the fringe of his hair falling over his eyes like a waterfall. His lips are curved in frustration as he moves the fingers in the air. His Evol is still controlling you, the vibration of that power surrounding your skin due to gravity.

"Why are you like this?! I can totally resonate with that!"

"Your powers aren't strong enough for that yet, pip-squeak." You can hear the sound of his sigh, and he is prepared to dismiss any complaints you may have. "I'm just protecting you from your own innocence. It's for your own good."

"I don't need your protection." The conviction carries your voice like a powerful weapon. And you are aiming it at him, more than ever as that manipulative pressure finally releases from your hand. Caleb was gentle in using just a little strength, with no intention of hurting you.

"You don't need it?" The way Caleb has spoken so sarcastically yet with a certain conviction has left you immobilized in place, and he was no longer using his power over you. There is a feeling of rage consuming you as you clench your fists and grind your teeth at finding him so perplexed by your behavior.

"Yeah, I'm done." Your breath quickens as you take rapid, unexpected steps toward the man. He watches your movements intently until you push his shoulders, and his back is hitting the upholstery. Strands of hair on Caleb's forehead are ruffled by the impact, and his face bears a tightly clenched jaw as he stares, almost frozen, you climb onto the large armchair and rest your knees on either side of his thighs.

You need not check to know that your clothing has been ruined by a bit of grease. However, the thought quickly disappears when you are approached by Caleb's fixed gaze, the overhead perspective providing a perfect angle to see the top of his chest escaping from his tank top. The shiny necklace you gave him glistens in contrast to the light, and your attempt to divert your gaze from it proves futile.

"I don't need you treating me like a kid. Not anyone." Your mouth commands your attitude, and the dark-haired man follows each of its movements. You appear too serious, which influences his features as he raises his chin in a sign of dominance. "You idiot."

"Watch you mouth." He is reprimanding you, his tone of voice shifting to a deeper harmony. His occupied hand releases the metal piece into the air, and it makes a violent noise when it hits the ground. Suddenly, you notice his eyes darken as he closely scrutinizes your reaction, and now his fingers are pressing against your wrists. You cannot just sit on him like that, in that position, like it's no big deal. "Don't you know how to treat your elders right anymore, brat?"

"Stop!" You spit, attempting not to show your vulnerable side whenever you are around him. "Is that all I mean to you, yeah? Just a helpless brat. "For a moment, your heart aches with guilt for behaving insensitively while you find so much love in his warm gaze directed at you. This is further compounded by a small streak of black grease on his cheek, which makes him even more endearing.

"Hey silly girl, what are you talking about?" A laugh escapes his lips, and you are unsure if it was meant to sound innocent or somewhat foolish coming from him. However, as a habit, this man tries to lighten the mood of the situation, even when it leaves you feeling embarrased. Caleb is wondering why on earth you have been so rude to him lately. He understands this whole independence thing you are going through, but he is beginning to lose the patience that has remained intact for years. After all, he has always done everything for you, indulging you with good things and ensuring your protection, yet you repay him in this manner.

"You don’t know?!" The walls tremble as you laugh ironically, the closeness of your faces does not intimidate him. "I hate... how you still see me as your little girl, and not as a woman." You hiss when you realize that you spoke those words too loudly, and you are failing to remove his hands from your skin, which are beginning to burn your very being.

"What?!" He cannot help but shake his head, incredulous at your words. Your breathless breaths are intertwined in the space, which suddenly becomes suffocating.

You look so beautiful sitting on his lap, that he thinks he could get used to the view. Caleb is clenching his fist tightly against the seat, trying to prevent himself from touching the accessible and more sinful areas of your body on top of him.

"Do you want me to show you how I can see you as a woman?"

There is a silence enveloping you and him, but the beat of the music becomes increasingly captivating in the background. You are still recovering from the weight of the double entendre posed to you. A tension saturates the air in more palpable forms, Caleb's gaze appearing indecisive between your enticing lips and the way your beautiful tits move as your breathing grows irregular. The manner in which his violet eyes encompass your entire body is so alluring, and you find yourself questioning why you had not noticed this much earlier.

"Yes." The whisper slips from your lips almost like a secret, yet you show no fear of proving the consequences of your bold action. You are venturing into uncharted territory, tampering with danger. The boy growls sensually in response, a primal sound that reveals how much he desires you as a woman.

He is almost exposing how painful it is to hide all these feelings from you, and this man swears by his soul that if it were not for his self-control, he would throw you beneath him into this old armchair and position you to make love to him. He would not release your wrists while possessing you as his own, imagining how he would start to move his hips in a slow and tender way, just as a princess like you deserves, but then he would take you with such brutality, and you would accept him, his size, so perfectly inside you. The sounds of wet sex would be louder than the music playing in the area, and he would keep repeatedly going in and out even if Grandma upstairs was disturbed by the depraved noises coming from your mouth. This man would make you scream in that garage until the sun sets, according to his endurance in cardio. It is okay, he has been letting you scream all the time with him lately, so it is only fair to leave you voiceless.

"Please." Your pleas are persistent, the throbbing pain in the center of your legs making your hips roll almost automatically and slowly on his groin. And it was possible to watch Caleb flying to the sky and seeing stars while he releases your wrists to grip your waist, commanding you to stop these movements. Because his big cock is hard right under you, Jesus. He would go crazy in this place and would take you to sin with him, a single slip could change everything. What would you think of him after this fateful decision? Your sweet purity going down the drain like this...

Caleb is thinking about how you are still not ready, watching you gazing innocently at him, unaware of the many desires and darker thoughts hidden within these purple orbs. You would not be able to handle all the things he wishes to do with you. Therefore, all he does at this moment is close his eyes tightly and take a deep breath in unison.

"No." His raspy tone conveys much about his arduous battle against these desires thus far. Your eyes instinctively close when his lips draw near, you emit a soft moan as you feel them brush against yours. The man is aware that once he begins to kiss you, he would be unable to stop. It is a torment to realize that you are unprepared to be wholly his, in body and soul. He requires you to have conviction in your actions before engaging in any recklessness, as both of you must be ready for that.

Then the place becomes cold as he crawls out of the seat, silently distancing himself from you while wearing a sad countenance. His eyes convey loneliness and melancholy, even as he closes the door behind him. You notice that your skin has been marked by the grease and his hands, it may take some time for you to forget the feeling of them on your body.

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