#taking down those boats... good for him. good for him

[msbigredmachine]

You Again (Roman Reigns) - Part 2

That awkward moment when the biggest star in pro wrestling happens to be your high school bully…and he’s in your office. A 2-part series.

Pairing: Bully!Roman Reigns x OC

Word Count: 4.5k

Warning: Smut, stalking, bullying

MASTERLIST

The mirror was very good to her today. It was as though it knew she was in dire need of extra positive reinforcements and affirmations. She liked what she saw. Hair on point. Makeup on fleek. Body tea. Her favorite Black-owned swimwear brand came through with an outfit that was sure to turn heads at a gathering as important as this one. Evelyn looked amazing and felt powerful, a far cry from the timid, naive little girl that Joe exploited all those years ago. 

Still tried to exploit only a week ago, with his bullshit talk about wanting her. Disregarding all the damage he’d inflicted on her self-esteem that took her damn near a decade to overcome. It was clear he hadn’t grown out of his childish mind games and she would not stand for it today or any other day. At least that’s what her brain kept telling her, repeating it over and over in her mind.

If only her body could show the same resolve, because it didn’t seem able to rid itself of the feel of his hands and his lips…his fingers...It was all she’d thought about all week, and her dildo was paying the price…

Aboard the superyacht, it was easy to find him, tall and striking, a drink in his hand as he conversed with Tessa and Khadijah, Wow’s CEO. Evelyn embraced the two ladies warmly and tried to keep her interaction with Joe as brief as possible. Of course, ever the one to take a mile from an inch, he pressed too close, his hand on the small of her back, lingering dangerously above the curve of her butt. 

“Can we talk?” he whispered; she could have sworn his lips grazed the shell of her ear.

“No.” Her answer was immediate, a fake smile plastered on her face as she smoothly slithered out of his grasp. Suddenly craving a drink of her own, she made a beeline for the nearest bar and ordered herself a Blue Margarita. If she was going to be stuck on a boat with him for the next few hours, it was wise to make the most of it with a strong drink or two. Or three, depending on her level of anxiety which she fervently prayed would not be through the roof by the end of the day. 

From her vantage point, she watched him be the center of attention, everyone clamoring to be in his presence. A slew of conflicting emotions she wanted nothing to do with rushed through her as several women threw themselves at him, eyeing him up like he was a big juicy T-bone steak. All the girls in school had fawned over him like this back then, and even now she couldn't stop the sharp thorn of jealousy from stabbing her insides. Some things had not changed after twenty years. 

“I’m sorry, but I gotta be a fangirl right now. He is so fine,” Faith swooned, fanning herself. Evelyn wanted to hurl, and not due to seasickness. “This is probably a personal question, but Tessa said you and him went to high school together. What was he like?”

Yeah, no one needed to know the truth about them. “He was alright,” was her curt reply, changing the subject before her assistant could pry some more. 

As the party dragged on, she noticed to her chagrin that he was almost always in her line of sight. This big ass man was lurking, hovering around her vicinity under the guise of mingling with other guests. Each time he edged closer, she was quick to extend the distance, caught in a ridiculous game of cat and mouse that she was not enjoying. She sought refuge again at the bar, indulging in three tequila shots the bartender placed before her. She knocked back the first without a breath, followed by the second, letting the alcohol burn her throat and numb her senses. She was reaching for the third when a huge hand suddenly swiped it out of her reach.

“You might wanna slow down with that,” said Joe.

For fuck’s sake!

She could only look on with annoyance as he consumed the shot for himself and slammed the glass on the table. “That was mine,” she griped. 

Ignoring her, he rested against the woodgrain with a huff. “So this is your plan, huh? You gon’ keep avoiding me?” 

Evelyn scoffed. “What makes you think I’m avoiding you?”

“You can’t even look me in the eye right now. The minute I come near you, you take off. Someone must’ve told you I like the chase.”

Her laugh was bitter and cynical. “Typical N’Stink Joe Anoa’i. You think everything revolves around your arrogant ass. I ain’t checkin’ for you, okay? I’ve leveled up.”

“I can see that,” he acknowledged, his tone deepening as his eyes slowly swept down her body. The intensity of his stare had her shifting in her seat. “You’re the most beautiful woman here, Evie. You always are.”

Flustered, Evelyn crossed her arms around herself protectively. "I don't know what you want, but—"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, sidling closer.

"What, to harass me some more? You didn't get enough in school?" she ground out, a gasp escaping her when his face neared hers, their lips a hair’s breadth away. That familiar feeling of helplessness she thought she’d conquered long ago overwhelmed her once more, and for a brief moment, she was fifteen years old again, smothered by his domineering presence. He exuded this aura of raw power and heat, branding a sickening cocktail of loathing and longing into her skin. 

"No. I didn't just not get enough," Joe replied. His eyes flickered to her full lips, mouth watering at the memory of their softness pressed against his. "I never got any of you. That was always the problem."

At a loss for words, Evelyn shook her head. She didn’t know what to expect, but this wasn’t it. It was clear he had no plans to make this comfortable for her. Wordlessly, she slid off the stool, sidestepping him and making yet another escape. Despite being in the lovely outdoors, she felt short of air, of breath. Her stomach had twisted in a painful throbbing knot; any more tension and she was going to lose her shit.

She pulled away from the general population and walked around the deck to the rear of the ship. The lower deck took her down a hallway where the guest cabins were situated. Tentatively, she opened one door, grateful to see an empty room. It was much quieter down here, with the music reduced to muted thumping, a welcome respite from the noise outside and the turmoil she’d been plunged into ever since that infuriating man reappeared in her life. She sat down on the small bed and blew out a few breaths, her face to the ceiling, closing her eyes to help her reclaim her composure.

Get your shit together. You’re Evelyn fucking Ashton, one of the most powerful women in fashion. Don’t let nobody play games with you, not even that asshole. He’s nothing to you anymore. Go back out there and be the boss bitch everyone knows you are!

The door suddenly swinging open startled her. Her stomach dropped as Joe entered the cabin, his massive frame engulfing the door he quietly shut like some kind of horror movie monster. She leapt to her feet, panic swelling inside her.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she stammered, her eyes widening as he approached her slowly, deliberately. She scrambled backwards, unwittingly boxing herself into the corner of the room. 

“I’m not letting you get away again, Evie, not this time,” Joe vowed, still advancing. A warped sense of deja vu overtook her as she was transported back in time to just a week ago, in the break room where this mess began.

“Get out or I’m gonna scream,” she threatened, swallowing hard as he stood impossibly close now, their chests touching. 

His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Go ahead. As long as you hear me out when you’re done.”

Evelyn stood frozen, numb for a millisecond. Then, rage tore through her; ugly black rage that swept across her mind like dark thunderclouds. Her hand flew up, slapping him hard across the face.

“Fine! You wanna talk, let’s talk!” she exploded. Struck him again. “You motherfucker! Who are you to demand anything of me? Do you have any idea what you did to me? What you put me through? I was a kid, Joe! A kid just like you and you made my life so fucking miserable! Why? Why did you hate me so much?” 

She raised her clenched fists and beat them against his chest over and over. Joe didn’t move, his arms at his sides as he let her lash out, painfully aware that his actions had pushed her to this point. He took it even as her strikes became more aggressive, wincing as her nails raked his collarbone at one point. At the first sign of her tiring out, he gently gathered her into his arms and moved her backwards against the hard wall, feeling her body tremble against him with sobs that tore at his heartstrings.

“I’m sorry,” he declared softly, cupping her chin to tilt up her tear-streaked face, praying she could see the sincerity in his eyes. “I’m fuckin’ sorry, Evelyn. I was wrong to hurt you.”

She dared to look up into his face, her heart skipping at the desire that blazed in his irises. She felt her whole body go warm and her loins pool. Why was this happening? Why did he still have this kind of effect on her after so many years?

In a move she both hoped he would and would not do, he dipped his head, brushing their lips together. That drew a sultry moan out of her as she pressed against him, leaving not even a sliver of space between them. He licked her bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth. She sighed and that opening was enough to let his tongue slip inside to meet hers. She could feel every hard plane of his body including the hardness that was growing against her belly, the sexual tension reaching seismic proportions.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she whispered, her voice small and pleading.

"Because I can’t help myself around you, baby,” Joe confessed, his breathing ragged. “I've never wanted anyone the way I wanted…want…you." 

Those words loosened something inside her. He was telling her what she’d wanted to hear for years, what she’d never thought was possible, and the feeling was surreal.

“And I know you want me, too,” he groaned low in her ear. “Tell me. Say it to me.” 

Fuck it. Why tell him, when she could show him?

She pulled his head down for another kiss, their lips parting, tongues tangling with every turn of their heads. He wrapped his arms around her body, almost crushing her as he released her mouth to kiss on her neck, suckling her soft brown skin into his mouth. Evelyn closed her eyes, captive to the sensations bombarding her. She was only aware of him, of this moment of bliss, resting her head on the wall with a soft bite of her lip.

Joe lowered himself to his knees, leaving a trail of wet kisses on her exposed skin on his way down. He gathered her pants in his fists, pulling them down her legs. Her matching bikini bottoms were next, already damp from her arousal, pushing the skimpy material over her hips and past her ankles before honing in on her bare mound. He made a sound of approval as he circled his thumb over her moistening folds, admiring the puffiness of them and smiled when Evelyn squirmed, sensitive to his intimate touch. He palmed her leg before hitching it over his shoulder, gripping her thigh to hold her steady while she found her balance.

Evelyn bit down hard on her lip to keep from screaming as his tongue lashed against her delicate, velvety folds. He devoured her like he was famished, his mouth giving long, suckling licks to every crevice and every spot it could find. Grabbing his shoulders, she cried out as he slid his middle finger inside her, right along her g-spot, her back arching against the wall from the dizzying sensation. Another finger followed shortly, her wetness immediately coating both digits as he thrust them in and out of her gushy pussy with ease. 

“You taste better than I imagined.” Joe watched her closely, enraptured by the way she licked her lips and her eyes fluttered. He pumped his fingers faster, sucked her pussy a little harder, making nasty sloppy sounds with his warm, fat tongue that had her grinding into his face. It blew his mind how tight and wet she was; he couldn't get enough of her. 

It was with the strength of Samson that Evelyn managed to shove his head away, stomach clenching at the sight of her nectar glistening on his thick beard. “There’s no time, just fuck me,” she scowled. 

The big man’s eyes lit up at her demand as he made his way back up to kiss her, earning another moan from her taste coating her tongue. She pulled away long enough to yank his shirt off of him, her hungry stare fixated on his exposed muscles, the chiseled abs and chest tattoo her hands couldn't resist exploring. She allowed herself a small smile as his eyes shut briefly at her touch. He backed her towards the bed and dropped her flat on her back with him hovering above her. His hand cradled her thighs, spreading them and pressing his erection to her center. With his mouth back on hers, he pulled her right thigh around his hip, grinding against her, with her grinding with him, her fingers embedded in his muscled forearms.

"Please," Evelyn breathed. She knew it was a bad idea. She knew crossing this line would never resolve her past trauma. But she also couldn't help the way she felt, like her world would crumble to pieces if she didn’t feel him on her, in her; if she didn’t finally give in to the urges that he’d awoken after two decades of slumber. 

Joe tugged down his shorts with one hand, and she sucked in a breath at the sight of his dick protruding from a manscaped tuft of pubic hair. It was long and thick with a slight curve, and her eyes began to water when he pushed it against her soaked opening, entering her inch by inch. Despite how wet she was, she was equally as tight, and he had to work to fit into her. 

“Oh my god.” She had expected this. Almost. The stretch of him, this delicious and this full, inside of her. She knew he would go deep, but here he was reaching her in that one area no one else seemed able to find. He hooked her other knee over his arm, rolling his hips until he was fully sheathed inside her. He rested his forehead against hers, cursing as her inner muscles clenched around him. Their eyes locked as his hands pressed down firmly on her thighs, holding her open to take him balls-deep. Their pants and moans mingled with slaps of bare skin echoing in the tiny cabin, all of it blocked out thankfully by the music blaring obliviously outside.

The haze of pleasure had Evelyn squeezing her eyes shut, overwhelmed by the pleasure ravaging her body. Her hands moved up his muscular back, her nails scraping his taut, bronzed skin as he switched up with faster, deeper thrusts. She felt his fingers tighten around the back of her knees, felt his mouth cover her throat with wet, breathy kisses as his voice, low and gruff, penetrated her sex-fogged brain. 

"I never thought I'd see you again," he murmured against her neck, "I couldn't believe you left me.”

"Bull…fuck…bullshit,” She could hardly think straight with his thick dick buried in her, her legs pinned to the bed with no chance to wriggle out. “You hated me, you—fffuuck," Her words disappeared in another groan when he circled his hips, nudging his dick several inches further inside her.

"No. I hated how you made me feel." One hand came up to yank her bikini top down and knead her breast. "Unsure of myself. Out of character. Weak for you," he continued. “I jerked off to you countless times…I…I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It broke my heart when you left. For years, I missed you. I fuckin’ named my daughter after you-”

Evelyn gaped at him in shock. “Your daughter’s name is Evelyn?!”

“No. Amara. Your middle name.”

There was no time to react to this revelation as his big hands lifted her hips off the bed to meet his thrusts, forcing her mouth open in a soundless cry as he slammed breath after breath out of her with gloriously deep, plunging strokes. The force and power of him made her thighs tremble as her pussy finally gave in, gushing all over his groin. She wanted to cuss him out for making her come so hard, but all that came out of her mouth were pathetic, pitiful moans. Joe's eyes shone with excitement at the mess she was making, relishing every moment of her losing control to him. He gifted her a toe-curling kiss before flipping her over, smacking her bare ass. 

“On your knees,” he ordered.

Too worked up to argue, she positioned herself on all fours and looked back at him expectantly. It was hard to deny how hot it was, seeing this big, sexy ass mountain of a man naked, big hand on his equally big dick, massaging it with her juices. Chuckling at the lust in her eyes, he nudged her thighs further apart and rubbed his palm along her gushy entrance, smearing her mess all over, making her moan.

“Mmm. Pussy drippin’ everywhere. You been needin’ me, huh, baby?” he said.

“Put that dick back in me,” she rasped, bumping her ass against him, eager for more. She felt his tip forge inside her, a tortuously slow entrance that had her chin scraping her chest as she moaned out in pleasure. Inch by inch, his own jaw clenching at the greed with which her pussy suckled him in. As she writhed on his dick, his mouth found her ear, tongue tracing the delicate lobe as he slid in deep from behind with his big body hunched over her. He felt huge from this angle, and Evelyn gasped, her mind spiraling from this epic dicking down. 

“Since I left your office, I haven’t thought about anything else but you. All my fantasies from years ago returned and I had to have you…Fuck, Evie, you feel fuckin’ amazing.” He leaned back and yanked her hips higher, deepening the arch of her back. The slap of his heavy balls against her clitoris caused her velvety walls to ripple around the length and girth of him. The shit was so good that she dug her fingers into the sheets, throwing her ass to catch his backshots as she whined his name. The low, husky moans that escaped from his throat gave away how good he was feeling just like she was, the sounds flowing through them both like beautiful music. 

“You takin’ this dick like a champ, baby. Is it everything you dreamed of, huh?" Joe grunted, his fingers clinging to the meat of her thick hips, bewitched by the sight and feel of the big, round cheeks slapping against his pelvis, the mesmerizing recoil leaving him in a heady trance. Even in his nastiest dreams of her, it never looked this good. 

“Fuuuuck, yes. Ohhh…” she whimpered, her voice cracking from complete bliss. He seemed determined to bury his dick in her stomach and was succeeding, nestling in the warmth of her cunt and keeping her in place as she gasped from every inch he made her take. He trailed his hand between her thighs, using two long fingers to strum on her clit, and hissed as she tightened around him right away. “Mmm, this little pussy squeezin’ my shit, you boutta come all over my d-”

Knock! Knock! Knock! 

“Evelyn? Are you in here?”

They both froze as Faith’s concerned voice sounded from the other side of the door. Evelyn’s heart rate accelerated; the door wasn’t locked, so Faith could easily walk in if she wanted to. Her career and her reputation flashed before her eyes, her life ruined yet again because of Joe fucking Anoa’i. She started to scramble out of the bed, trying to get away, but his strong, inked arm locking around her waist put a stop to that. She cast a panicked glance back at him but only received an amused wink in response.

“She asked you a question,” he said for her hearing only, kissing her cheek.

Fighting off her rising anxiety, Evelyn called out as casually as possible, “I’m here, Faith. What is it?”

“Are you okay? I’ve been looking for you.”

“Yes…yes, I’m fine. Just a little seasick-” Her words evaporated when his fingers twined into her hair, gently pulling back, his nose nuzzling the crook of her extended neck. Incredulously, he started thrusting into her again, rolling his hips slowly so as to not make any noise. Her agitation levels were at an all time high, battling with the warm burn he was inducing in her tightening stomach. 

“You sure?” Faith was saying.

His other hand cupped her breast, groping generously as his dick nudged right up against her g-spot. The nerve of him, trying to make her climax again even with Faith mere feet away! “Positive,” Evelyn called out, her pussy clenching when Joe angled her face and slyly tongue-kissed her mid-sentence. It took all of her strength to keep talking. “I’m fine, Faith. Go on. I’ll be out in a minute,” she ground out, praying that she would listen.

“Alright. Will do. You’re missing a great party though, so hurry back!”

The second Faith’s footsteps faded, Joe struck, his big paw on the back of Evelyn’s neck pinning her face-down as he upped his tempo, the ruts of his hips fierce and needy as he pounded her out. “Good girl, you did so good. Now nut on my dick again,” he encouraged with another hard spank to her ass, breathing out soft moans of his own as his own climax beckoned. 

“Oh my fuckin’ god,” Evelyn moaned helplessly into the mattress. Fireworks burst behind her eyelids, her entire body quivering as it exploded from blinding pleasure. Her pussy pulsed and leaked all over his dick, finally dragging him over the edge as well. She’d never heard anything as sexy as his hushed, almost strangled groans as he released inside her, big dick throbbing, emptying his essence into her soaked depths.

For a long moment, neither could move, recovering from the shock of the last several minutes. His hand lightly smacking her ass caught her off guard as he withdrew from her with a low groan. The warmth of his body disappeared, the weight of the small bed easing as he climbed out of it. The ruffle of heavy fabric was loud in the stunned silence of the room as he picked up his shorts and put them back on. Evelyn squeezed her eyes closed, horror dawning as she emerged from her desire-induced stupor and realized what just happened.

Joe cleared his throat awkwardly. "Evie..."

Ignoring him, she rolled out of the bed, hating that her legs wobbled as she stood. She hunted in her purse for a wet wipe, her back deliberately turned as she cleaned up the evidence of their tryst off her body. Without a word, she threw the wipe into the small trash can in the corner, adjusted her bikini top and slid her underwear and pants back on.

"Evie wait, look at me…Evie…Evelyn!" His deep voice rose, more demanding as he sensed her about to run off again. He was quicker, blocking her path to the door before she could escape. Despite her shame, her ego couldn’t help but swell at how deliciously rumpled he looked, knowing she did that to him. He ran a hand through the strands of hair that had escaped his once neat ponytail. "Look, I still think we should talk," he said.

It took everything in her to not laugh and cry at the same time. “Talk? After this?!” she exclaimed, "I don't know what I was thinking, but this was a huge mistake." More humiliation shot through her as she realized she'd not only let her high school bully fuck her, but they did it raw on a boat filled with her colleagues! Her assistant had almost caught her, too! The embarrassment was suffocating and she needed out asap.

She moved around him but he stopped her again, his hand catching her wrist. "No. Don’t run off on me again." His jaw clenched, his voice hesitant. "I've been beating myself up for a long, long time for what I did to you." He brushed his thumb over the apple of her cheek. “Please…let me make it up to you.”

“You can’t. It’s…it’s too late,” Evelyn argued, painfully aware that she was in a losing battle with her emotions.

"No, sweetheart, it ain’t,” Joe insisted. “I leave town in two days. Have dinner with me tomorrow night. I got a lot to apologize for. Give me a chance, Evie. Please."

Her sigh was tired and resigned, recognizing that he was not going to drop this. So she took the easy way out. "Fine. And after that I never want to see or hear from you again."

Joe chuckled, his arm snaking around her waist and drawing her close. This time she didn’t push him off. A good sign. “You already forgot we’re working together soon. Besides, is that really what you want, baby girl?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“You sure?” He leaned down and kissed her softly, once, twice, three times. Like butter next to heat, she was melting into him again, kissing him back once, twice, three times, before she jerked away abruptly. “I ain’t your toy no more, Joseph,” she warned, a frown tainting her beautiful face. “Dinner and that’s it. Text me the time and place and I’ll be there.”

“I’ma make you change your mind about me,” he vowed, the arrogance in his baritone reverberating around the room and caressing her skin.

Meeting his eyes dead-on, a defiant smirk crossed her lips as she opened the door. “Oh, I highly doubt that. See you around, N’Stink.” 

How she got back to the upper deck in one piece, she wasn’t sure. It was as though she was floating on air, her body light as air for the first time in ages. Despite her elation, a part of her still worried about this new, interesting step she had taken. Confusing. Conflicting.

Faith perked up when she returned. “There you are! I was gonna come find you again.” She peered closely at her boss with a concerned expression. “Hey, are you okay? Feel better? You do look a little flushed,” she observed.

“I’m fine.” Evelyn snatched two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray and gulped both of them down in record time, ignoring Faith’s bewildered gaze. “Do me a favor?”

“Sure,” said Faith, eager to help.

“When we get off this boat, get me the sluttiest dress and stilettos you can find in my size, and a box of Plan B.” 

THE END.

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[warping-realities]

Beautiful Things

Hey, everyone! This story is part of the Viral Transformation funfarre proposed by the one and only @occamstfs, in celebration of hitting 2K followers! Congrats, bro, you totally deserve it. He’s one of our top authors and never fails to bring the best stories.

Before I dive in, I gotta give you a heads-up that this is a story about corruption, where good people turn into the worst kind of folks. If that’s a sensitive topic for you, I’d recommend not moving forward. Trust me, in the original project, things were way worse, but after chatting with the MAN himself, who helped me with some edits, I softened the tone of the story a bit. If you’re interested in the original version, I can post it later, but this is the final cut.

That said, I hope you all enjoy it and join me in celebrating this awesome author!"

Alois was strolling mindlessly in the morning towards the student exchange center in Seattle, where a bunch of fresh-off-the-boat students from all over the world were gathering for the adaptation phase of their exchange semester. The eighteen-year-old Austrian was loving the experience of taking a gap year before diving back into his studies in Vienna, where he planned to become a doctor. As he walked down the busy street, on what should be the only sunny day of the year, he spotted one of those types he had seen around the city. They were all buff and tall, with wavy, well-groomed hair, and the big ol' mustache that defined them, giving off the vibe of some douchebag brotherhood or whatever. This one in particular was jamming out to music on headphones that looked straight outta the nineties, just like his outfit, which consisted of Levi’s jeans, a white tee, a dark jacket, and combat boots. The whole look cranked the douche factor up to eleven, making Alois's heart race a bit as a shiver of attraction ran through him. When the guy passed by Alois, he shot a look at the smaller red-headed man, dripped with arrogance while a smirk played at the corners of his lips, like he knew some secret that Alois was clueless about. To make things worse, the music blaring from his headphones was so loud that Alois couldn’t help but catch a snippet.

“Please, staaaayyyy…”

That stupid song again. At first, Alois thought it was kinda interesting, despite all the religious preaching in it, which rubbed the young atheist the wrong way. What he didn’t realize was that the singer was all about filming a lot of TikTok videos to promote his work, videos that inevitably flooded the social media feeds of a gay dude with an unfounded attraction to that type of guy. A type that seemed to be multiplying on the streets of Seattle every damn day. Sure, Benson Boone was from Monroe, just a few miles away, but still… Maybe he was looking at things from the wrong angle, maybe it was the singer who was cashing in on the style of the group he and his fellow exchange students had dubbed the Mustache Gang.

The fact is, after several months, the hype around the song should’ve died but apparently that was still far from happening. Trying to leave the discomfort aside Alois headed to the coffee shop that had quickly become his favorite spot during his short stay in the city. As he walked along, head down like most introverts do, he got lost in thought about what kind of work the exchange agency would hook him up with, until his daydreaming was interrupted when those familiar chords hit his ears again.

“I want you, I need you, oh God…”

But this time, someone had slapped a cheerful electronic beat onto the song, which not only butchered it but also made it even more annoying. Looking for the source of that cacophony, he lifted his head and glanced to the side. He could’ve sworn he saw a chubby dude coming his way, but now there was no sign of him, just another one of those big-mustached douchebags strutting around with the swag all of them seemed to have, along with the usual cocky grin. Dressed in a white tank that showed off his defined arms and hairy chest. There was no one else close to Alois on the street at that moment, which was a blessing, since his dick was starting to stir at that sight. But that also freaked him out. Where the hell did that damn music come from? Was he seriously imagining things now?

Distracted and worried about his sanity, he stepped into the coffee shop. At that moment, the place was almost empty; there was just an old dude, well past his prime, fiddling with his phone, looking like he was in a bad mood while he seemed to be listening to something that deeply disgusted him through the giant headphones he was wearing. Apparently, the use of those things was a trend around there.

Passing by the old guy, Alois headed to the counter and ordered his usual coffee with cream and sugar. As he made his way back to the exit, still freaking out about his mental state, disaster struck. Clumsy as ever, he tripped and faceplanted on the floor, coffee spilling everywhere and staining a good chunk of his clothes.

“Alois, du bist dumm…”

He said stunned in embarrassment, as he turned to the side, starting to get up. His view landed on black combat boots that ended in large calves covered in denim, leading up to thighs as thick as they come. But the old man was wearing a suit, no? Clearly not, since the Levi’s pants had been replaced by a black hoodie that concealed a massive chest, which the sleeves were stretched to the limit by powerful biceps. The grand torso gave way to a handsome face framed by wavy brown hair, and right in the center, the ever-present slick mustache that even the guy’s prescription glasses couldn’t diminish the douchebag effect. With his eyes closed and a focused expression, he didn’t even seem to notice what just happened right next to him.

But Alois couldn’t help but wonder, where the hell did that old guy go? While trying to figure out when the old dude left the shop and the Mustache Gang member took his spot at the table, the man seemed to wake up. Smiling and fixing his hair, he finally noticed that a kid was trying to get up from a puddle of coffee right next to him.

“Need a hand, little bro?” he asked, though not with a genuinely empathetic expression; on the contrary, the grin he shot at Alois did little to hide how much he found the situation hilarious.

“No, I’m good, thanks!” Alois replied, finishing getting up and bolting out of the shop as the guy burst into loud laughter behind him. Apparently, this dude wasn’t just rocking the look of a douchebag. Rushing to wipe the coffee off his hoodie, Alois continued his march to his destination. Luckily, no other mortifying events unfolded along the way. Upon entering the classroom, he passed by Charles, a French dude with long blonde hair and delicate features, who was checking something on his iPad while also rocking a pair of those old-school headphones. Not wanting to disturb his classmate, he didn’t say hi and headed further back in the room, where bis friends Arjun and Qian, hailing from India and Taiwan respectively, were hanging out. As he passed Charles, he heard that stylized version of Benson Boone’s song again.

“I found my mind, I'm feelin' sane

It's been a while, but I'm finding my faith…”

Apparently, he wasn’t going crazy after all. He quickly turned towards the source of the music only to find one of those big-mustached douchebags and no music font at all. But he could’ve sworn that… wasn’t there another person there? A kid with long, well-kept blonde hair? Well, his hair was definitely blonde and well-kept, just like the his mustache. Wearing a tank top that showed off his arms and staring at everyone in the room with an air of immense superiority that made Alois feel torn between attraction and disgust.

Resuming his path back to his friends, he discreetly adjusted his boner in his sweatpants while sitting down and trying to forget about that damn song.

“So, who’s the jerk sitting at the front of the class like he owns the place?”

“We’ve been wondering that too, man,” Arjun, the skinny Indian boy with long limbs replied.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” continued Qian, who was more compact, as their teacher, Mr. Sizemore, spoke to the class.

“Guys, today I brought the manager of one of the establishments where you might work. Chuck works at a pub called Shooters; it’s an opportunity we typically offer to our students over twenty one. However, the place has expanded and now also has a Hookah Lounge, the Puff Palace. Although I must say the best option would be for no one here to inhale anything, this is still a decent job opportunity. Without further ado, here’s Mr. Chuck Morris.”

The guy smiled arrogantly before stretching and scratching his neck, causing the lightweight, almost see-through fabric of his tank top to expose his nipples, which didn’t seem to bother him at all. He took his sweet time getting up, like he was in some kind of private show.

But in Alois’s opinion, it would’ve been better if he had stayed seated and shut up, because the first words that came out of his mouth to the class raised a wave of utter dissatisfaction.

“Hey there, guys! Happy to finally leave your miserable countries behind and be in the greatest nation in the world?” The conversation didn’t get any better after that, and Alois was sure that whatever happened, he’d never set foot in that bar called Shooters.

After class, he was chatting animatedly with Arjun as they headed back to their dorm.

“I’d love to know what that illiterate would do if he knew he was talking to future doctors, engineers, journalists… while he’s gonna spend the rest of his life working in a bar serving people like him,” Alois commented.

“Probably nothing would change. People like him always think they’re superior just because of how they look and because they were born here in the States. Doesn’t matter if they live in a trailer and rely on government assistance.”

“True, ahhh, I want a coffee; I spilled mine all over this morning. Do you want one too?” Alois asked as they passed by his favorite coffee shop again.

“No, I’m good. I’ll go ahead; we’ll catch up later,” Arjun replied, continuing on while Alois entered the coffee shop. After carefully getting his to-go coffee to avoid a repeat of that morning’s fiasco, he turned and headed to the exit when he heard the synthetic chords again, accompanied by that familiar lyric.

“Don't take these beautiful things that I've got…”

This time, he saw where the sound was coming from—a Latino guy a bit older than him was listening through those giant headphones. Feeling sure he wasn’t losing it, Alois allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief, only to get a major scare. In the blink of an eye, where the guy had been, now sat one of those big-mustached dudes, this one bigger and more muscular than the others, but with the same wavy hair and infamous mustache.

Alois was stunned, staring at the man, who in turn pointed a finger at him as if to assert something and gave him a smile that freaked the young guy out to his core.

Not knowing how to handle that situation, Alois bolted from the shop, trying to make sense of what he had seen. Still in shock, he entered the room he shared with Qian in the dorm, where his friend was sitting on his bed, fiddling with his phone, still dressed in the button-up shirt and khakis he wore to class.

“Dude, you won’t believe what just happened. You’re gonna think I’m crazy, but… I... I forgot... How bizarre, I'm sure it was important Qian! Qian? Is everything okay? Qian…? You good?” he asked, realizing his friend hadn’t heard a word he said, just to see his face contort and his eyes roll back as if he were convulsing, and then… puff. Right in front of him stood another member of the Mustache Gang, wavy hair, slick mustache, a chiseled face and a muscular body on display.

“You good??? Qian? Who the hell is Qian? I’m Ken, you foreigner dumbass.” Said the young man of Chinese descent, the irony of using that kind of comment not even crossing his arrogant and brutish mind. “You’re here only because I couldn’t score with an American ass. But a hole’s a hole…”

“I… what…?”

“You just accept a quick hookup on Grindr man, It's not that difficult. Gonna act all shy now? Here in America, that kind of behavior doesn’t fly. Either you do what you came to do or bounce, but then you'll miss out on all this,” the guy replied, flexing his powerful muscles while giving him an arrogant grin. Alois was thinking about where exactly he was and what he was doing there.

“So ginger, what's it gonna be?”

.....

When he got to the dorm for international students  after getting his ass wrecked by the massive schlong of his Grindr hookup, who he discovered was co-manager of Shooters and Puff Palace alongside Chuck —those two even shared an apartment above the pub—he hated himself for getting into that mess just for a quick lay. Yet, at the same time, it was the best fuck he’d ever had. As he stripped down and got ready to shower and wash off the sweat and sex smell from his body, the distinct ping of a Grindr message caught his attention. Opening the app, he found a new message from Ken Lee.

“Hey ginger I think you’re gonna like this.” Ignoring all common sense, thinking it might be a nude, he clicked the link the other guy sent along with the message. Strangely enough, it was a clip from a podcast where a young woman interviewed a flamboyant man, who was wearing a bright and flashy suit, both chatting animatedly. Everything about them screamed obnoxious  starting with their shrill voices that didn’t stop talking for a second. Losing interest and wondering why a guy like Ken would send that to him, Alois let the video play as he headed to the bathroom in the room he occupied alone in the dorm.

“… so, Benson Boone? He’s such a total hottie, girl!”

“Don’t even get me started, Yasmin! I melt for a guy like that! I’d do him in a heartbeat.”

“Me too, Nico! But with that whole Christian boy vibe, I’m not sure he’s got the moves.”

“Girl, it’s just marketing. A guy like that, with that body? And anyone rocking a mustache like that knows exactly what to do with a girl… or a man.”

“Nico you slut, I heard some rumors…”

“I know, girl! I wouldn’t doubt he’s hooked up with more than a few, after all, a man has his needs, and to a guy like him a hole’s a hole like my brother used to say”

“Oh, my brother always said the same thing. What’s going on that there aren’t any more men like him in America?”

“I’ll tell you, I don’t get it either. Everywhere I look, I only see snowflakes and wimps. They say they are our allies, but this talk about toxic masculinity has turned all of them into whiners. Of course I prefer not to be attacked in the street by a bunch of homophobes, but sometimes all we want is someone to fuck us senseless And no one does it like a good douchebag, and don't come to me with that talk that this is a white, cis man's thing, yada yada yada... all due respect to the cause, but we need more men like this hottie, not less. Real American men, who know what they want and make it happen, I don't care what they do with their lives as long as they fuck me right. So I vote for more douchebags, of all races, creeds and sexual orientations, sis!

“True, Nico! I wish I could make that happen…”

“Me too, girl, but how about we listen to his updated song while we wait for the real American men to come back?”

“Sure, girl, this version is way better and more danceable, perfect for a man to sweep me off my feet. Play it!”

Then, the chords that had been haunting Alois all day started playing, and he quickly turned on his way to the bathroom to stop the video—there’s no way he’d want to listen to that on his own.

“Mm. Please stay. I want you, I need you, oh God…”

As he turned towards the source of the sound, he froze, hearing it as a feeling of numbness invaded his head and took over his body, barely letting him take a step back before being flooded with memories and sensations that weren’t his. His childhood in Austria was being replaced by one  in Virginia, time spent studying swapped for sports practice, the memory of a skinny physique giving way to a powerful, muscular body, atheism giving way to worship at church every Sunday, even if he spent most of the time distracted, checking out the girls present. And speaking of girls, nights of sex, just banging them in the ass to keep his virginity intact, and when a girl refused, there was always a twink willing to step in. After all hole’s a hole. Then there was the end of school five years ago and the move to Seattle, working as a personal trainer during the day and a bartender at Shooters at night, the apartment shared with Chuck and Ken, and all the possible and imaginable orgies they had . He knew that, as a good Christian, he’d eventually have to give it all up, settle down, and start a family, but until then, the single life was too good to pass up, and he was gonna enjoy it. And even after he gets married if the desire arises, well a man has his needs and one thing he has learned is that no one is a better bottom than a slut boy desperate for a fuck.

“No… no… what the hell…. This can’t be real…” Alois grumbled as he tried to move towards the phone that he now knew had to be the source of this whole bizarre situation. However, with every step he took, his muscles expanded. His skinny chest exploded into slabs of meat that are now pecs, below his abs form into six brick-like blocks, and his arms and legs thicken to a considerable size. His hair grew longer in well-kept waves, and that infamous mustache sprouted and grew on a more masculine and angular face. At the same time, the room he was in transformed, and he found himself on the other side of the city, in the place he had just left a little over 40 minutes ago.

When he got to the phone, Allen adjusted it, fixing the camera angle. That video was gonna be perfect for his TikTok, especially with that new version of Benson Boone’s song, one he’d used in a bunch of other videos, but this remix version was fire.

Fixing his hair and flexing his powerful muscles, he smiled at the camera.

“Yo, what’s up, fam? Today’s heavy lifting day and a wild night at Shooters. If anyone’s interested in what I’m packing here, just swing by or hit up the link to my OnlyFans in the bio. Only for the grown folks, are you really gonna miss out on this?” he wrapped up, crossing his arms in front of his body and flashing one of those grins at the camera.

“Damn, that looks so good!” he said, posting the video on TikTok and heading towards the living room of the apartment he shared with Chuck and Ken, not even bothering to shower. He had a new client coming to the gym in the next hour, so why waste time on more than one shower? “Tonight’s gonna be lit for sure, guys,” he said, talking to his roommates.

“Are you talking about the Indian skinny boy who’s training with you?”

“Ugh, definitely not. Dudes like him are for when there are no other options. But it wouldn’t be a Friday night if Big Al didn’t get some real action.!” He said grabbing his cock and balls over his shorts, laughing. "I can't wait to get some ass." He concludes while shaking his huge cock out of his shorts and making everyone burst out laughing.

“We’re all gonna get some, man. Chuck’s been spreading the word in an exchange class; soon, it’ll be packed with foreign slutty chicks and twinks looking for an American dick, and we can bang them all we want, Red.” Said Ken with a mischievous grin.

"And God bless that! "Chuck added beside him with an identical smile, which was also mirrored on Allen's face.

...

Allen was sitting on a bench in front of the gym, waiting for his new student, a scrawny Indian dude from the exchange program named Arjun.

“You coming, bro?”

“Sorry, I’m on my way. Got held up.”

“So, meet me in the gym locker room so we don’t waste time. In the meantime, check this out,” Allen said, sending the link to Yas and Nico podcast, she was a hot babe even if she seems as dumb as a rock. Not that he cared much about that at all; she was hot, and that was good enough for him, and that Nico had a very fuckable butt. He didn’t even stop to think about why he was sending that video; it just felt like something he should do.

.....

While he was chilling on a bench in the gym locker room, mindlessly scrolling on his phone, he didn’t notice the transformation happening to his student right behind him. The skinny Arjun was rapidly inflating with muscles and attitude without Allen even realizing it. It was only when he looked up and saw a dude of Indian descent with silky hair and the infamous mustache, wearing nothing but gym shorts, casually scratching his powerful pecs.

“Art, you still haven’t finished getting dressed, you asshole? We gotta workout, take some pics of our pump for OnlyFans and hit the bar shift afterwards.”

“Chill, Al, I’m getting ready. It’s not like your muscles are gonna disappear because of a five minute delay in your workout.”

“Five minutes is already too much,” he replied, flexing his arms and smiling arrogantly. “Tonight, I want the max pump in these Beautiful Things I’ve got.”

[wyattjohnston]

still home to me - nick blankenburg

series: need a little company

summary: nick finds out where he's spending the 24-25 season. sort of.

word count: 1.5k

It was the 1st of July. For most, it was just another day in the way of the 4th of July. For anybody involved or interested in the NHL it was the start of Free Agency—or the day a good percentage of the league learnt of their new homes. Officially learnt of them, anyway.

Morgan had been waiting for the answer for a week. Agents weren’t supposed to have been talking to General Managers before midnight, but it was an open secret that deals were all but put to paper before the day came. At least that was true for the bigger players who had multiple teams interested. Nick was staring down one team who had expressed interest in signing him, and Morgan was sure that contract was being signed when Nick answered his phone and darted into the bedroom of the cottage they were leasing for the summer.

The water of Anchor Bay was calm, undisturbed by any winds or boats, and Morgan stared across it, only taking her eyes off it when she heard the door open behind her. She swung her legs over the side of the recliner so that she was facing Nick.

“So…” Morgan trailed off, tracking him as he moved further onto the deck. “Nashville?”

The smile on his face was unshakeable when he said, “Yeah, two-way in the first year.”

“And you said their AHL team was in Wisconsin?”

“Yeah. Milwaukee.” A beat followed. Nick’s face faltered.  “You’re not happy.”

“No,” Morgan sighed sadly, standing up. “I’m sorry; I’m so, so happy for you.” She smiled at him, genuine and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I am happy, and I am proud and I’m just being selfish. I didn’t mean to ruin it for you. I know you’ve been worried.”

“I’m still worried,” he said, his hands remaining by his sides. Morgan pulled back to see his eyebrows pulled together as he said, “I thought you were happy with Nashville.”

“I am happy that you’re happy with Nashville,” she clarified. “I just… The more I think about it, the less I think I want to be in Nashville alone if you get sent to Milwaukee.”

“I might spend most of the season in Milwaukee, you can stay there?”

Morgan sighed and she stepped backwards to put some distance between herself and Nick. She sat back down on the recliner, her shoulders slumped, and she avoided all eye contact with him as the frustration from the uncertainty bubbled out of her.

“Do I want to be there by myself if you get called up?” she asked her toes. “When you were in Cleveland it was doable because I was happy to drive up on Friday after work and go home on Sunday night—and you could visit during the week. But, like, flights between Milwaukee and Nashville aren’t going to be that easy and I don’t have anything in either of those cities. I don’t particularly care about answering phones, and I don’t think I’m saving the world, but I at least I was keeping busy while you were gone.”

Nick’s feet appeared in her vision, his hand gently pressing down on her shoulder and his thumb brushing over the hinge of her jaw.

“You can stay in Columbus, Mo,” he assured her. She could hear the struggle in his voice and picture it on his face without even looking at him. “If that’s what you really want, I can fly you wherever every weekend.”

“Well, no…” she sighed. “That sounds way worse than being with you sometimes. I fucking hate Columbus.”

“Then I don’t know what you want me to do, Mo. I can’t change Nashville’s AHL team, and I can’t accept offers from teams that haven’t made one.”

Morgan’s chest ached and she finally lifted her head. The struggle on his face was exactly what she’d imagined, and it only made her heart ache more. She grabbed the hand that was on her shoulder and held it to her mouth, kissing it gently before pressing it to her chest.

“I… Jesus, I can’t believe I’ve made this all about me. This is a huge day for you and I’m being a cry-baby.” She stood without warning, startling Nick into taking a couple steps back. “We should go tell your parents, and then get ice cream on the way home, and tonight I’ll blow you on the boat.”

She walked past him, tugging on his hand to get him to follow. He didn’t move an inch. Morgan pouted, her shoulders falling dramatically as she waited him out.

He didn’t sound any more enthused than he looked when he said, “We have to talk about it.”

“We will,” she assured him, closing the space between them and leaning in to press a tender kiss to his cheek. “We have the whole summer to talk about it. Right now, we need to go tell some people.”

Nick agreed, though he still wasn’t as excited as he had been when he first found her on the porch. They moved through the house, Morgan picking up the car keys as they passed her bag in the kitchen; Nick held his hand out for them when they reached the car, but Morgan kept them curled up in her palm.

“I love you.”

Nick didn’t hesitate to say back, “I love you, too, Mo.”

Nick’s parents were, perhaps predictably, much more excited by the news the moment they first heard it. There was no hiding their excitement, Karen immediately gushing over her son and Karl being unbelievably proud. The immediate dual FaceTime calls to his siblings only added to the excitement, and Morgan couldn’t deny that their excitement had eased her own nerves. Though the thoughts of her future never strayed too far from her mind.

They made it back to their summer home after the hearty meal Karen prepared for the entire family, so full that they both moved sluggishly. The late evening weather was perfect for a trip out on the boat, and there was no conversation needed between them—both just making their way to the dock as soon as they were out of the car.

Nick was in charge of getting the boat into the middle of the lake—a good distance away from the one other boat that had decided to go out under the moon that night—and Morgan laid herself out on the floor of the boat, her legs crossed at the ankles and her gaze firmly on the stars above her.

With the anchor dropped, Nick joined Morgan, their arms pressed skin-to-skin from shoulder to fingertip.

“I have another option for what you can do during the season.”

Morgan barely tilted her head; it was just enough to see him in her peripheral vision before she returned to finding consolations. She laced their fingers together and said, her voice barely audible over the waves brushing up against the side of the boat, “We don’t need to talk about it tonight, Nick.”

Nick hummed, but Morgan knew that it wasn’t in agreement and that it was only a matter of time before he continued with what he was going to say, so she squeezed his hand to let him know that he could continue.

“You can stay with my parents.”

It floated through Morgan’s brain for a moment, six words that felt unbelievably loaded. She clarified, to buy more time, “Here? In Michigan?”

“Yeah,” he said as he shuffled onto his side. His refusal to let go of Morgan’s hand meant she was drawn closer, and their faces were only inches apart. His mouth was tilted up at the ends. “I mean, it doesn’t change that you’ll have to fly out and see me, but you won’t be alone most of the season. I’ll fly you out when we have decent homestands or whenever you want. For a night, I don’t care. And if you need something to do, the business could always use an extra pair of hands—or my mum could use an extra set of eyes on the paperwork.”

With her heart beginning to beat just a little bit faster, Morgan inhaled a steadying breath before she rolled over to face him. “Nick… Your parents don’t want me around all the time. Especially when you’re not.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it,” he said, his smile growing wider. He took the opportunity of her getting comfortably to poke at the bottom of her ribs, eliciting a high-pitched laugh that cut through the quiet night. “It was my dad’s idea, and he already suggested it when it was clear I was going to be spending more time in Cleveland than Columbus because he didn’t like the idea of you living alone with nobody nearby.”

Morgan shuffled across the boat’s deck, trapping their entwined hands between their bodies as she wrapped her other one over Nick and pulled him in tight.

“I just want to be with you. That’s all. The second it looks like we know where you’re playing most of the season I will be there. It just… I let my weird little ego get the best of me in college and missed four years that I could have spent almost every day with you.”

“Four years? We were at school at the same time for two years.”

“I would have stayed in Michigan. You’re my home.”

please let me know what you thought about this <3

[mars-ipan]

this is gonna sound incredibly virtue signal-y i fear but i have been feeling. so fiercely protective of all the transfems i've ever met lately

[sophie-looks-at-stuff]

The Dragon and the Dragon-less

Pairing: Aemond x Strong niece reader

Summary: The night Aemond had lost his eye, his sweet niece was the only one to provide him any sense of comfort. Many years later, when she returns to Kings Landing with her family, what should become of the two? ;)

Warnings: bad ship terminology (idk boats y'all sorry), Rhaenyra being kind of a bad mom (love her tho), Targcest/incest, softer Aemond, smut in the dragon pits, this one is kind of long haha

AN: Hey y'all! Since my first fic seemed to be received so well (thanks so much to everyone for that:) I decided to write another one! I'm staying on the Aemond train since I've never left it since day one haha. Let me know tho if there are any requests!

PS: I haven't gone through and totally edited this so don't mind the spelling or grammar issues if there are any!!

It had been awful, you remembered hearing the screaming and shouting from your chambers. The screeching having woken you up from a rather pleasant dream about eating cake–

In nothing but your night clothes, and a quilt draped around your shoulders, you padded down the chilly hallways of Dragonstone. 

“ – it was my sons who were attacked!” You hear your mother yell. Concerned you took a few more steps forward, finally able to make out the scene before you. Your mother and your brothers to one side, while Alicent and her boys on the other, the fire raging in the hearth between them. 

Your wide lilac eyes meet those of your stepfather, Prince Daemon, he reaches a hand out towards you as if to say “Come here”. Your feet did not move, rooted to the spot, eyes glancing around the room once more. You see something you hadn’t noticed before, Aemond, in the corner of the room, surrounded by maesters. A hand over his eye, thick, sticky fluid oozing from between his small fingers. Gasping, your own hands fly to cover your lips, perhaps to muffle the noise, or maybe to tame the scream building in your throat. Aemond’s healthy eye meets yours, pain, sadness but most of all fury over taking his features. 

Just then your mother turns to meet you, her gaze worried and frantic, “My sweet girl! You should return to your chambers this is no sight for you dearest,” her hand, also bloody you notice, rests above her heart.

“Mother, w-what has happened? Aemond, h-he, is he alright–” You begin to question, Daemon takes a step towards you and you take one forward into the room. Your concerned gaze flits over to Aemond once more. Despite the fire in the hearth, the chill of the room has set into your bones, causing you to pull the quilt tighter around your shoulders. 

“Come now byka zaldrīzes (little dragon) let us return you to your quarters. Aemond will be fine,” Your father attempts to comfort you. Maybe you are too tired to argue, or too shocked, your mind still attempting to comprehend what has happened. But you let your father guide you back to your chambers, the quilt trailing behind you like a cloak. 

With a lullaby and a pat on the head, Daemon bids you good night once more. Closing the door softly behind him, his heavy footsteps receding off into the distance, presumably back to your mother and brothers. It feels like hours as you stare at the ceiling, listening, straining your ears for even just a morsel of information. But the halls beyond your door remain as silent as the grave. The chill in your bones is stubborn, making you shiver. Sitting up and swinging your feet over the side of the bed, you wrap the quilt around your shoulders once again. As silently as possible, you open the door, the hall is empty save for the torches lining the walls. You’re bathed in the fiery orange glow as you step fully into the hall. 

You’re not quite sure where your feet carry you until you turn the corner and are met with Ser Criston Cole. His tall stature taking up the door frame of the young prince's room, his gold cloak behind him like an inverse shadow. It’s not until you come to stand in front of him that he addresses you. 

“Princess, you should not be here. You should return to your chambers,” He looks down his nose at you. Your knuckles turn white from the tight grip you have on the quilt.

“Please, Ser, I must see the Prince. What has happened to him? I must know if he is alright–” 

“Your brothers have maimed him. Who’s to say you aren’t here to do the same? Perhaps your whore of a –” The door behind him creaks a bit, one of the maesters appears in its place. Bloodied rags and a needle are held in his hands. He sighs “The prince says she may pass Ser Cole,”

With one last look of annoyance and a warning mumbled under his breath, the knight lets you pass. The room is dark, lit only by a few candles on the bedside table. Aemond’s hunched form lays on the bed, the blankets up to his chin. As you make your way closer you can see the true horror of what has happened this evening. Where his eye once was, now lays only marred flesh, red and angry, the stitches pull at the swollen skin. You gasp, shocked, a sick feeling settling into the pit of your stomach.

“Ugly isn’t it?” Aemond asks you, bitterness lacing his voice. As he speaks you make your way to his side, sitting lightly on the bed, next to his hip. Your small hand searching for his under the covers, to comfort him, or maybe to warm your own. 

“H-how did this happen? Who could possibly have–”

“Your brothers. Lucerys stole my eye. But an eye for a dragon is a fair price to pay is it not niece?” A proud, sad smile graces his features. While your brothers had dragons since they were but babes, you were not as lucky. Syrax had not laid a full nest, and your mother had decided it was best to give your brothers the two eggs. All the while you have remained dragonless. 

“Vhagar is now mine, and on the morrow, we shall leave this wretched place. And I will fly on dragon back to the Red Keep.” His singular lilac eye meets yours. “I promise you, sweet niece, one day I shall take you for a ride on dragon back. Show you the freedom that comes with it,” His previously bloodied fingers intertwined with yours. 

“I would like that very much uncle,” Looking down at your joined hands, a small smile of your own matching his. 

— — — — — — —

The waters of the sea lap against the side of the ship, the slap against the wood echoing around you. Overpowered only by the screeching of your family's dragons above you. Alone, you ride on this ship, well alone save for the ship hands and captain assigned by your father. Still, at the age of nine and ten, you remain dragonless, made to travel to the Red Keep by boat.

Your brothers claim to Driftmark had come into question, prompting the visit back to your old home. You hadn’t been back here since–

Your mother and father had determined it best to keep the family at Dragonstone after Aemond lost his eye. Although you had always suspected part of the reasoning for that was your mothers fear of retribution from Alicent for what your brother had done. Perhaps it was a long time coming though, your brothers as well as Aegon had picked on Aemond ruthlessly for years prior to that night. You had been spared only by the simple facts that you were a little girl, and just weren’t in there presence as much. Despite your pleas to join in the yard for training you had been denied, and turned towards the library instead to study “things more befit for your station” as your mother had put it.

“We shall dock shortly Princess,” the ship captain’s voice drifted to you from behind the wheel. You stood on the platform with him, looking beyond the masthead, you see Syrax and Caraxes land in the dragon pits. You sigh, it looks like you’ll arrive alone at the Red Keep, not expecting your mother to wait for you. Her and Daemon needed to prepare for the events of tomorrow. 

Arriving at the Keep felt haunting, the lack of a welcome only contributing to that fact. Once docked, you were met by a singular carriage and it’s driver. The captain had assured you that your belongings were to be delivered to your chambers shortly. For all your fathers faults he did have good trust and faith in those he employed. The ship’s captain had been with your families since you were a girl. He and yourself not unfamiliar with these lonesome journeys. 

The gates of the Red Keep came into view as you rolled over the bumpy roads of Kings Landing. Gold Cloaks lined the gate’s walls, closing the massive gate doors behind you, shutting you in, locking you within the castle grounds. The carriage comes to a jumpy halt, the driver offering you his hand as you disembark your ride. Your fingers slip into his as your boots squelch in the mud below you, the clanging of swords and metal meet your ears. 

“Nephews, have you come to train?” A voice says, one you could not recognize. From across the yard you see your brothers, you wave to them, hoping to catch their eye. Luke turns his head towards you, a small smile playing at his lips. Noticing this, the source of the voice follows his gaze, a singular lilac eye meeting yours.

“Niece, how you have grown–” Aemond’s lone eye takes in your figure. My how you’ve grown indeed. Last time he had seen you you barely came up to his chin, your silver locks a messs contained in small braids. The flush that never seemed to leave your cheeks remained however. You had grown taller, still standing shorter than himself, which he finds excites him a bit. More than it should perhaps. You had grown into yourself in a way that was very pleasing to his eye, your face fuller and lovely. Your curves soft and plush, inviting him to touch and caress them. 

“Uncle,” you offer him a small curtsey. You can hear Jace scoff, as if annoyed by the action. Wanting yo say more, but not knowing what, you continue to look at one another. Your own eyes take in your uncle, he had grown taller, much taller. His muscles lean and corded beneath his tunic. His silver hair almost as long as yours, is pulled back slightly in a braid. Some hanging free, escaping their confines during his sparring. His eye was now covered in an eyepatch, made of black leather, the tops and bottoms of the scar still visible even with it on. 

The arrival of another carriage turns your gaze to the left, where you yourself had arrived only moments ago. Vaemond Valaryon steps out of the carriage and into the yard, sparing a glance at the Prince and your brothers. A look of disgust crosses his face as he lays his eyes on Luke. 

— — — — — — —

The meeting to question Lucerys’ claim to Driftmark is long and dull, at least in the beginning. Mustering his limited remaining strength your grandsire had sat the thrown. Disputing Otto and Alicent in their claims. He looks horrible you think. His skin looks to be gray and sloughing off of his bones. The Stranger would be coming for him soon. It is not until Vaemond brings into question your brother’s parentage once again, that the apprehensive peace shatters. 

“And she is a–”

“Say it,” your father’s hand that rests on the hilt of Dark Sister tightens, knuckles whitening. 

“ – a WHORE!” In one swift blow, Daemon sends Vaemond’s head rolling across the floor of the throne room. Blood trailed behind the appendage like a snail’s trail. The room is filled with gasps and short screams. Your own eyes widened looking at the head on the stone floor before you. By no means are you unfamiliar with your father's violent nature, and nor should the rest of the court. 

“Let him keep his tongue,” Daemon wipes the blood off of his blade, stepping back, sheathing the sword once more. 

As if some kind of magic pulls you, you lift your eyes from Vaemonds severed head and meet those of your uncle. A smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, he looks to be well entertained by the violent display. Caught in your staring, Aemond’s gaze rises to meet your own, his smirk widening into a more sadistic smile. 

“Now, for the final order of business. A more pleasant way to end this affair,” the king says, his mellow voice carrying across the stone-lined room. “I am blessed by the Gods to have such a large family, but it appears that the Gods hope to bless us some more,” It was becoming increasingly more clear that Alicent’s love for The Seven has bled not just into the castle but its people as well.  You think maybe it gives the king something comforting in his final days. 

“My son, Aemond, a fine warrior and scholar,” Aemond stands rigid and straight, uncomfortable with the new attention from his father. “And my granddaughter, if your mother had not already claimed the title of Realms Delight then it would be most certainly passed to you.” Your cheeks flush a bright pink, warmth rising to the tips of your ears. 

“This family has been divided for quite some time, I tend to rectify that. Aemond, my son, and my granddaughter the princess, shall be married,” The reactions around the room are mixed, some people applaud, some cover their shock with their hands. Wide, prying eyes jump between you and Aemond. You dare a look in his direction, he is still staring, the smile gone from his face now. Confusion, shock, anger? You cannot tell but it is not sweet, and it is not kind.

A wave of confidence washes over you as you step forward, “What is the meaning of this? Why have I not had any indication of this until now?!” You feel your mother’s hand grasp your elbow, urging you to stand beside her, silently. “It is the wish of your grandsire, byka zaldrīzes (little dragon). He is dying, do not fight him,” Your head whips aside, meeting her eyes, eyes filled with sadness. Did she know of this? Did she approve of this? Your father would not meet your eyes, nor your brothers, Jace toeing at an invisible stone on the floor. Did they all know, except for you? 

You tear your elbow from your mother’s grasp, she opens her mouth to speak once more, but your back is already turned. Your feet lead you towards the grand door. You had to leave, you needed to be anywhere else but here. Your chest tightens, your breathing ragged. Not with sadness or grief, no, but with anger and fury. You feel as though you could breathe fire as the dragons do. An angered scream tears past your lips, reverberating off of the stone walls of the Red Keep. 

— — — — — — —

You had decided it best to skip the family feast. And a good thing too, unbeknownst to you it had gone horribly. Lucerys mocking Aemond over the roasted pig, Aemond's “final tribute” to his Strong nephews. No, instead you had taken your dinner in the library, back amongst your beloved books. The sun had set an hour or two ago now, the torches along the halls lit. You didn’t know how late it was, you had been much too absorbed in your novel Lady Coryanne Wylde, A Cautionary Tale for Young Girls. 

The wax on the candles had burned low, and your wine had turned cold. It was time to retire. Taking the book with you, you began to make your way toward your chambers, your old chambers. The last time you had slept there you had been but a girl. As you turn the corner you are met with a hard wall of warm, corded muscle. Your book tumbling to the ground. A pair of strong hands plant themselves on your shoulders, to steady you. 

“Careful niece, someone might think you are up to no good, wandering the corridors, at night–alone” The smile from earlier returns to his lips, and just then, he notices the book on the floor. His smile becoming impossibly wider, you don’t think you’ve ever really seen Aemond smile, not like this anyway. It’s nice, you think to yourself.

“What’s this dear niece,” he bends down to pick up the novel, his slim fingers sifting through the pages, his eyebrows lifting. “Well, well, who would have thought–”

“Give that back!” You reach to snatch it from him, like a child, but he just holds it higher over his head. “Tell you what, I made a promise to you. Do you remember?” Of course, you remembered, you still thought about it sometimes, but all hope of fulfilling it had left you.

“Yes–” it came out more hoarse than you had intended. Your hand frozen, outstretched, Aemond still held the book over his head. 

“Come with me to meet Vhagar, for a ride,” he leaned closer to you, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “Come taste the freedom of the skies with me niece.” He had tucked the book behind his back. Aemond wasn’t a man who typically waited for an answer, nor was he one who liked when people disagreed with him. He’d throw you over his shoulder if he must. Even though his hatred for your family ran deep, he could never seem to hate you. You had endeared yourself to him time and time again as children, but the night he lost his eye. The night you visited him, the only one not angry, the only one not repulsed by his face. He knew then that he could never hate you, no matter how hard he’d tried. 

Words had suddenly failed you, your tongue dry. You simply nodded instead. In response, Aemond straightened to his full, imposing height, and turning without a word, he began his stride down the hall, towards the dragon pits. You followed him, but neither of you spoke, the halls of the Red Keep filled with an odd sort of comfortable silence. His hair had grown longer, much longer, and he walked with a sense of confidence that hadn’t been there before. 

The night air was chill, a slight breeze blew through your hair, tousling the strands. You were glad you had worn a gown with longer sleeves, it must be chilly up in the clouds. Aemond was sporting his riding clothes, the leather over his tunic reaching his wrists. He looked good, really good, you thought to yourself. The flush from earlier returning to your cheeks, as well as the warmth in the tips of your ears. 

Aemond comes to a stop before the pits, waiting for you, the book still behind his back, taunting you. You suppose that was his insurance policy in case you had said no to joining him. You can only imagine your father's reaction to seeing you read such debauchery. You were his sweet little girl after all…

“Come now niece, no harm shall come to you while I am near,” He held his hand out to you, and you slipped your fingers between his. His hands are much smoother than the ship captains from earlier, you thought. His hand was warm, the blood of the dragon coursing through his veins. The sound of beating wings from up above drew you out of your daze. A dark shadow crossed over the pair of you, coming to land only several passes in front of you. Vhagar stood proud and strong, if not slightly tired. Her form was weathered by time and battle. It’s a blessing from the Gods that she can still take to the skies as she does. 

Aemond drew you nearer to her, your hand still held tightly in his, like all those years ago. “Give her a pat, she won’t bite, not unless I tell her to,” He chuckled a bit at his own joke, your eyes widening slightly, making him laugh all the more. “No need to be frightened, she’s quite gentle actually,” He guided your hand up to the beast's snout, his fingers had moved to circle your wrists, making the action easier. Your hand lay splayed out before you against Vhagar’s scales, her skin impossibly hot. The hand on your wrists moves to cover your own on the dragon. From behind you, Aemonds other hand rests on your waist lightly, like a whisper on the wind. Mayhaps this marriage won’t be too bad after all? Your anger from earlier was not directed at him you realize, but rather at the other members of your family. You were never pleased when things were kept from you when you were lied to. You like his hand there, you like it a lot, it provides you a sense of comfort and security as you stand before this large beast. You wonder how his calloused hands would feel elsewhere…

Aemond retracts his hand, yours following closely behind, you can still feel the heat of Vhagar’s scales on the skin of your palms. You begin to be tugged backward in the direction of Vhagar’s saddle. Aemond motions for you to begin climbing the ropes that lead to the mount, he follows behind you; prepared to catch you should the need arise. The saddle is less like a saddle and more like a small chariot on top of the dragon. It comfortably seats the two of you, and could even squeeze in a third. 

Aemond positions you in front of him, his legs caging yours, his arms reaching around the front of you to grasp onto the reigns. “Are you ready?” The question is whispered to you, his lips brushing your ear once more as he speaks. You rather like this position, the warmth radiating off of his body will surely keep you warm above the clouds. 

“Yes, yes I think I am,” Your own hands come up to rest atop his, surely just to steady yourself, and not at all because you were becoming increasingly more desperate to touch or be touched by the man behind you. 

“Sōvēs Vhagar!” Aemond pulls back and yells into the night air, sparring your delicate eardrums. The beast below you growls and jolts into action. She takes a few long strides before beginning to beat her wings, as she takes off into the crisp night air. 

Eyes glued shut you think you yell out a little yelp of initial fear and surprise. Aemond’s legs press tighter down on your own as if to reassure you that you are safe with him and his dragon. As Vhagar evens out her flying, coasting just above the clouds, you dare to open your eyes. Behind you, Aemond cannot stop the smile from spreading across his lips, he cannot see your face but he hopes it is a happy one. He’ll take you out flying every day that you are married if it will make you happy. He would burn the world down if it meant he could keep you safe and happy. To make you his. 

Truthfully he wasn’t all that surprised by his father’s announcement of your betrothal. As a boy, even before the incident, he had asked his mother and grandsire, Otto, what lords would court you, and if any would be good enough for a princess. It wasn’t until after he lost his eye that he first breached the subject of marriage to his mother. He’d told her he deserved it, that after all the pain he had gone through, it was only fair for him to spend his life beside someone whom he cared so deeply for. At the time his mother had just given him a kiss on the forehead saying “Perhaps one day, we shall see,” A sad smile had crossed her face then.

He’d given up on the hope of marrying for love after that. The ladies of court found him elusive and repulsive, opting to flirt with his brother, despite his marriage to Helaena. A few moons ago, Aegon had made a jest at Aemond’s expense, something about being tied to a Strong for all eternity. He had ignored it, deeming it nothing more than one of his brother's drunken comments. However, after the events of today, it seems he was not jesting after all.

Aemond is broken out of his thoughts by a lovely, bubbly sound. You’re laughing, your arms spread wide, fingers splayed out letting the wind rush through them. He immediately goes to grasp your waist, his legs still caged around yours, steading you, anchoring you to him and the saddle. 

“What the sweet Hells are you doing?! Put your hands back on the reigns!” He exclaims. You giggle some more, the wind drying your teeth as you smile. 

“I cannot uncle! You were right, this is marvelous! I feel as though I could rule the world from up here!” He had never seen anyone as dazzling as you were in this moment. Vhagar gave a slight jolt as she began to descend back downwards, causing you to jump forward a bit, hands grasping the reigns once more.

“I told you – “ He murmurs against your hair, placing a small kiss on your head. After another moment Aemond begins to guide Vhagar back towards the dragon pits. There’s a strain in his trousers he can ignore no longer. Years of pent-up desire and want boiling over. Ever the gentleman, he assists you in descending the beast. This time he goes first, his hand in yours as he helps you with the final jump down. 

“That was incredible, uncle that was truly –” Aemond uses his grip on your hand to tug you forward, clutching you to his chest, his lips meeting yours. You gasp into his mouth, surprised by the boldness of his actions. Before you are given the opportunity to reciprocate, he pulls away, a slight frown on his face.

“My apologies, I should not have–” 

“Yes, you should have actually. Why did you stop, I was quite enjoying myself,” You pull on the collar of his tunic, tugging his chapped lips back down to yours. Aemond uses his taller stature to guide you back up against a pillar within the pits. The two of you made only out of sight by half of a pillar, and Vhagar’s sleeping form. 

“And what if I were to take you, right here? Right now? Like a scene from your debaucherous novel,” He exclaims, his lips moving, forming a trail from your jaw down to your collarbone. Surely leaving marks, and love bites as he goes. Oh if only his brother could see him now, he thinks that perhaps Aegon would congratulate him on finally “getting it wet”. 

His grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you impossibly closer to him. He was everywhere, all of your senses were overwhelmed by him. The smell of the oils used to wash his hair filled your nostrils, the smokiness from Vhagar had made a home in the threads of his clothes. You’re nearly positive that you must smell similar, you’ll need to get your gown cleaned certainly. 

Your hands began to fumble with the belt of his trousers, your fingers making clumsy work of the buckle. Aemond pulls away only for a moment to assist you, then he begins to work on the strings of your corset. His movements were desperate and quick, neither of you having the patience to wait much longer. All the while his lips never left your skin. You feel him smile against your skin as Vhagar makes a slight noise of annoyance at your escapades. Somehow between your messy kisses, your skirts had been rucked up to your hips, Aemond’s deft fingers making contact with your small clothes. 

“You’re rather wet dear niece. Do I rile you up so huh? I wonder how wet you’ll be with my cock inside your sweet cunt,” He says that last bit almost more so to himself rather than you. In response, a small whimper escapes your lips. Aemond looks up to meet your eyes. A certain twinkle reflects at you from his. 

“Another night I shall spend hours ravishing you, but I need to be inside you, now.” He gives his cock a few strokes, preparing himself. Your eyes widen at the sight, his shaft long and thick, his head red and leaking arousal. It was, invigorating, knowing that you could illicit such a response from him. With a delicate kiss to your lips and one final look of permission, Aemond sheathes himself inside you. Your warm walls squeeze him perfectly, welcoming him in. Gods he could stay right here like this forever. 

“ – move. Aemond Gods move please,” You begged him, your walls had adjusted to him. Feeling wonderful and full. He began slow, his thrusts taking on a rhythmic flow. Aemond tucks his face into the crook of your neck, smelling your hair, his grunts and groans in your ear. You drag your nails down his clothed back, perhaps next time you’ll be able to fully leave your marks on his skin. Thank the Gods Vhagar had decided to remain put, it would ruin your honor should anyone find you like this; even though your virtue was promised to him already.

“Fuck– I don’t know if I’ll be able to last much longer ñuha jorrāeliarzy (my beloved). You are just too perfect–” He cuts himself off with a grunt.

“Finish then, let go Aemond, let got for me please, I–” You beg him, you need it just as much as he does.

“Not before you ñuha jorrāeliarzy (my beloved).” Aemond moves down to circle your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure up your spine. The pace of his thrusts picked up, your hands remained looped around his neck, anchoring yourself to him.

“Aemond, oh Aemond, Gods I’m gonna–” The words that left your mouth made hardly any sense. The words and phrases twist and turn into a bizarre hymn to your betrothed. 

“Cum, cum for me Jorrāelagon (love), give yourself over to me–” Aemond begged you. His lips biting and nipping at the flesh of your neck. On his command, a wave of pleasure washes over you, like the seas crashing into the shores of Driftmark. You remember drifting off to sleep as a girl to the lullaby of the sea. Aemond’s own release follows closely after your own. Still nestled inside of you, he rests his forehead against yours, sighing contentedly. 

“You know, when I was a boy, I had asked my mother to ask Rhaenyra for your hand. I had begged her actually,” He chuckles a bit at his anecdote.

“Did you?” You laugh along with him, less at the story and more so at the ridiculousness of your current situation. You feel him nod, his forehead brushing against yours as he does so. 

“Well,” you say in response, “ I had always wanted a dragon of my own. I had begged my mother actually”, you imitate Aemond’s words, giggling a bit as you do, “but now I need not ask any longer. For I have my very own dragon right here.” You place a kiss on his nose as you say this.

“Well my love, no longer shall you be dragonless, not as long as I am around anyways,” Aemond reassures you. He supposed he had two dragons now as well, with Vhagar he would burn the world down, but you gave him a reason to do so. With fire and blood he would protect you, love you, for that is the way of the dragon, that is the way of Prince Aemond Targaryen, your beloved betrothed. 

Tag List:

@ helaenaluvr  @ anukulee

[sunrizef1]

Birthday Blues

Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

Authors note: finished this yesterday but tumblr deleted it xx

Warnings: none, for once

Word count: 5.9k

Requested: yes/no

Max was tired. He’d been at this charity event for hours, sat to the side sipping at some drink he’d been handed as he watched coworkers and acquaintances mill about, spreading joy he didn’t have.

He’d came alone, contrary to most of his friends who all danced and laughed with their partners, swinging around loosely under the evening lights, faint music guiding their hearts in a loving dance.

He’d come under the notion that he’d get to hang out with Daniel or Charles, maybe even Checo. But they were all whisked away with the brush of a gentle hand and a lipstick kiss, leaving with the merry call of their lovers giggle and leaving a disgruntled and lonely Max in their wake.

So here he was, his friends preoccupied and in love, a frown gracing his face and the ideal of charity being the only thing keeping his perfectly clean dress shoes cemented to the tile floor.

He takes a big swig of whatever drink was in his hand, grimacing as the bourbon burned his throat on the way down. He vaguely considers leaving, debating how much his presence would be missed by those happier than him when one of the few people in the same boat as him comes bounding up.

“Maxie!” Max winces at the volume of Landos voice as he stomps happily up to the Red Bull driver, a toothy grin on his slightly intoxicated face. Max disregards the awful nickname, choosing instead to humor the McLaren driver.

“Hi Lando,” Max smiles, unable to truly be displeased around the ball of absolute joy in front of him, “Enjoying yourself?”

Lando laughs, although Max isn’t entirely sure what’s so funny. He doesn’t mention it though, tilting his head in the Brits direction.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fun,” Lando starts, moving to lean against the wall Max was standing on, “Seems to be more romantic than usual, though. Not exactly my cup of tea.”

This causes the frown to reappear on Max’s face, his lips forming a firm line as he’s reminded of his loneliness in the face of the romance that surrounded him. Max simply hums in response, suddenly wishing he had another drink. He turns to grab one from a nearby waiter, eyes trailing after them as they walk away. As he traces their path, his gaze finally catches on you.

You were stood a few yards away, your form perfectly blocked by the way Lando had been standing. After seeing you, Max wishes he’d pushed Lando out of the way much sooner. His gaze traces the features of your face delicately, scrawling over the expanse of your flowing dress, the red shining beautifully against your skin. Max wishes for nothing more than study the freckles that dot said skin, knowing he could makes the most beautiful constellations if given the chance. Your hair falls perfectly around your face, framing it as if it was a work of art. Even after one look, Max isn’t sure that you, in fact, aren’t one. He’d certainly pay good money even if your face was the only exhibit.

Lando, even in his drunken state, catches on to Max’s staring and turns to catch your attention, calling out your name in the loudest of fashions. Max finds himself mouthing your name to himself the second it leaves Landos lips, hoping he’d have to use it a lot in the future.

You turn and smile as you spot the pair, taking the few steps it takes to reach them. Lando slings an arm around your shoulder and Max is suddenly struck with the terrifying idea that you were dating the small, insane, terrifyingly unromantic Brit next to you. It would certainly be strange, considering Lando had just dismissed the event for being “too romantic”. But as you lean into his hold, Max has to stop himself from frowning.

“Maxie, this is my friend, Y/N. She’s just moved here so she’s crashing with me while her place gets furnished or whatever. She’s just as boring as you so I’m sure you’ll get along great,” Lando grins. You don’t seem offended by his words, probably both aware of the amount he’s drank and understanding of the joking connotation behind his rude statement.

“I don’t go out to a club with you one time and you decide to write me off for being boring ever since,” You roll your eyes, a charming smile on your lips. Max lights up at the realization that you’re not, in fact, dating the extremely talented McLaren driver next to you.

Lando snorts unceremoniously, swaying the two of you side-to-side, “Maybe you should’ve come out, then? It was sick, you would’ve loved it.”

“I was watching a movie, mate,” You laugh, ruffling the hair of your friend, “And I was sick!”

Lando laughs, finally releasing your shoulder from his grasp and falling back into place beside Max, “Yeah, yeah, whatever princess. Just be glad I brought you chicken soup the next day. Even with my nasty hangover and two hours of sleep!”

You smile warmly at the memory before something seems to strike you, “You fell asleep on my couch and then woke up and drank all my coffee!”

The thief in question holds his hands up in surrender, seemingly started to slowly back away from your accusatory glare, eyes scanning for an escape route, “Uh, why don’t you talk about that with Max, I’m gonna…”

His eyes finally catch on something on the other side of the room, his feet speeding up below him, “Go talk to Oscar! Bye, Y/N!”

You and Max turn to watch Lando speed away, careening into the back of Oscar, the Aussie stumbling forward from the impact. You look away, turning back toward Max with a slight laugh. As you face him, Max thanks the heavens for the atmosphere provided as the setting sun through the expansive windows combined with the soft lighting from above shine down on the side of your face, enlightening the curve of your lips as they open to release the soft melody of your voice.

“He’s so weird.”

Max laughs at the statement, his head moving on its own to agree with you, “He definitely is.”

You look up toward his face, your eyes quizzical and your head tilted slightly, “I’m so sorry, I don’t think Lando even properly gave us a second to meet. I’m y/n.”

Max nods, “Max.”

You smile, grasping a flute of champagne from a passing waiter into your perfectly manicured hand. Max takes a large gulp of his own glass, grateful for the temporary respite from his growing thirst.

“I know you, Max,” You smile, taking a sip of Champagne, “Been to a couple of races with McLaren. Congrats on being completely dominate by the way.”

Max laughs, ducking his head slightly as his face flushes red for a few moments, “Thank you.”

You nod, satisfied, as your eyes go back out or stare at the party flowing smoothly in front of you. Max leans slightly closer to you, causing your attention to snap back to him.

“If I’d known you’d been at a race I would’ve asked Lando to introduce us sooner,” Max smiles, liquid courage clearly causing excess confidence to bleed into his words.

You flush at his words, biting your lip in an attempt to cover your obvious grin. Max’s eyes widen warmly as you turn your face away, covering your warm cheeks with your free hand before turning back to him. Max is just happy he got you to laugh.

“Is that so?”

“Of course.”

You take another sip of your champagne, fully angling yourself toward the Dutch man, looking up through your eyelashes at him. Max isn’t sure on how yet but all he knows is that he won’t let this end, the party he once detested now becoming the most interesting thing he’d entertained in a while.

Max scans his eyes over your figure, gaze catching on a stack of bracelets sitting delicately on your wrist. A charm bracelet lays gently with a stack of bangles on top and, finally, a few ornately stitched thread bracelets are mixed throughout the stack.

“I like your bracelets.”

You perk up at his words, glancing between him and your wrist before lifting your wrist slightly up toward him, “Really? They’re from this brand in Greece! They’re all custom made and personalized however you want them to be.”

Max just watches as you fidget with some of the dangling charms on your bracelet, Max spotting a wave and a bird as they clank against the blue and gold thread of your other bracelet. He listens as you explain the lore behind the stack, a small grin forming as you get lost in your mind.

You’re not sure how long you’re stood there, conversing quietly as the party progresses without you. The sun sets in the time you talk, the only light now being the soft glow that the floating chandeliers cast onto your faces. You’re also not sure on how the topic comes up but you suddenly find yourself discussing your birthdays, Max shocked to find out you have the same one.

“September 30th, yeah?” You ask him, bright eyes widening as he nods. You seem to grin wider at his confirmation, another thing you have in common being added to the ever-growing list, “Any plans?”

Max is suddenly struck with the fact that, for once, he didn’t have any plans for his birthday. It wasn’t a race weekend so Red Bull wouldn’t be doing anything, he was grown enough where his family wouldn’t be organizing anything and this was the first year in a while he didn’t have a girlfriend to at least keep him company. He pauses at the thought, the absolute depressing notion of a thought causing his eyebrows to furrow.

“I guess not, no.”

You seem to catch onto his mental dilemma, gently reaching a hand up to rub small circles onto his shoulder. He tries his best not to move suddenly as your warm hand makes contact. He glances over, sporting the sympathetic smile on your face.

Not wanting to rain on your parade, he really tries to force a smile but it seems to come out as more of a grimace as you pat him, your hand dropping away, “You could always come to my birthday. Landos renting a boat. Id love to have you there.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude or anything-“

You stop him, shaking your head with your persistently charming smile, “Nonsense, it’s a big boat, you wouldn’t be intruding anything. It’s your birthday too!”

He doesn’t seem fully convinced, though, and you roll your eyes, leaning fully toward him. You swing both arms around his neck, hands connected behind him and your body weight now fully leaned against him. Max, not wanting to knock you both over, rests his hands against your waist, hoping to save your balance.

You look up at him, biting your lip to stop the laugh threatening to escape your lips, “If you don’t want to share a birthday party, then I’m cordially inviting you to my birthday party as my friend.”

Max looks down at you, gaze soft as he stares at your gentle and genuine expression. He could tell you weren’t going to let this go, even if he turned down the invitation. So, despite his best judgement, he finds himself nodding as a yes, a grin starting to peak out on his usually stoic face. You laugh happily, leaning out of his grasp to sway merrily.

“I can’t wait to see you there,” you grin at the Red Bull driver, elation seeping into your voice, “Maxie.”

Max groans at the nickname but, for once, maybe feels a little charmed by it as it seems to bring you so much humor. You set your now empty glasses down on a nearby table, leaning forward to grasp Max’ hands in yours and practically tear him away from the spot on the wall he’d taken up for the past few hours. You start to lead him away from his corner of solitude toward the heart of the party which was still beating healthily despite the late hour.

“Come on, let’s dance,” you bounce on your heels excitedly as you pull him along, “You can help me plan what party information to feed Lando over the next few months. He still thinks it’s a surprise party but we live together and he’s anything but subtle.”

Max just smiles, following along behind you as he listens intently to your echoing voice. He sticks close to you, following your every step despite the fact that the idea of dancing at this party made him want to throw up. The idea of doing it with you and being able you hear you talk animatedly for a bit longer making the idea bearable enough for him to endure it. For your sake.

A few months later, Max finds himself on the deck of a yacht, sun shining down brightly onto his shoulders as the deep blue expanse of the Mediterranean stretched out in all directions below him.

He’d seen a good amount of people from the second he’d stepped onto the boat that morning, both people he knew and some he’d never met before. He knew Lando was around somewhere, his loud voice bouncing off the edges of the boat.

He hadn’t seen you yet but he wasn’t completely alone. Lando had taken the liberty of inviting Oscar who’d dragged along Logan, the two blond drivers having been sat on the upper deck since before Max had arrived.

It’s not that Max felt lost but he did feel a bit out of his element. Your friends milled around, wandering throughout the boat, conversations (and alcohol) flowing smoothly.

Just as Max moves to head up to where he’d seen Oscar and Logan hanging around, he’s frozen by the sound of your voice ringing out from a few yards away, “Max!”

Max’s eyes turn toward you, drifting over your body as he takes in the red swimsuit hugging your skin, the fabric the same shade as the red dress you’d worn at the gala all those nights ago.

Sunglasses sit perched on your nose, your hand moving to push the bridge of them back up from where’d they’d starting to slip down. Sunscreen sits atop your sun-kissed skin, casting a soft shining glow as the sunlight bounces off it.

“Hi, y/n,” Max smiles gently at you, still not completely at ease on the boat, “Happy birthday.”

You grin, quirking your head at the driver, “Happy birthday to you too, Maxie. I’m glad you decided to come.”

Max squints slightly as the sun beats down, rays of light sneaking into his unprotected eyes, “I didn’t want to miss your party, Lando even invited me himself.”

You laugh, head dropping back at his words. You both knew Lando was still under the impression that the whole party had been a surprise to you that morning. You were considering a career in acting with how Lando had believed your reaction.

“Well, make yourself comfortable, Landos paying so…” you trail off, shrugging your shoulders as you glance around, eyes tracing between the ocean and the sight of your friends lounging around before they land on the bar, drinks already being handed out, “We’ll set off in a few minutes, I think we’re just waiting on one more person.”

Max nods as you continue to look around, his eyes being dragged back to you.

You’re notably missing any jewelry, no doubt not wanting to lose it when you swim later. Max does notice the fresh set of nails you’ve got on, white and gold decorating the ends of your fingers.

You seem to notice Max’s attention on your hands and you grin, lifting your hands toward him, “You like? Got them done yesterday, I was more excited to spend the day with my mom than actually getting the nails. I’d usually get blue but I thought white would match my swimsuit better, you know?”

Max nods, grateful to, once again, hear your joyful rambling, “I like them, they’re really pretty.”

Your face forms into a satisfies smile, glancing over the nails in question before you look back up toward Max, “I’m glad you think so.”

Max smiles his first genuine smile since stepping on the boat, eternally grateful to have you here in front of him. Just as you’re about to say something, your eyes catch on something over Max’s shoulder and your mouth falls closed, a small exhale leaving your mouth as you seemingly hold back a laugh.

“Max!” A voice calls out from behind him. When Max turns, he’s met by the sight of one Daniel Ricciardo bounding down the dock, wearing a giant grin and a familiar burnt orange hat. Max’s eyes widen at the sight of the Aussie as he jumps onto the boat, his toned arm coming to swing around Max’s shoulders.

Daniel looks down at you, a humored smirk on your face, “Hi y/n, happy birthday.”

“Hi Danny,” you hum, looking between the pair of friends.

Daniel looks around, his eyes quickly catching on Lando, no doubt doing something stupid. He pats Max on the shoulder before peeling away, “Happy birthday Maxie, I’ll see you in a minute.”

Daniel bounces away, echoes of Landos name being shouted out of his mouth, the Brit quickly enduring the tackle of the older Aussie. Max laughs as he watches the attack, eyes crinkling and shoulders shaking.

Max looks back toward you when he hears your own melodic laugh ring out beside him, “You invited Daniel?”

You turn your head toward him, smiling shyly as you nod, “It’s your birthday too, didn’t want you to be too lonely.”

Max shakes his head, although he can’t fight the warm laugh that escapes him, already having a better birthday than he’d expected to.

“Now that our final guest is here, we can finally set sail,” you say, walking away from the boats entrance. Max, not entirely sure of where Daniel had gone, decides to follow you.

Max isn’t sure what he’d expected from the party but whatever was currently happening was exceeding that.

With the arrival of Daniel, he was officially friends with over 50% of the guests in attendance. After a few drinks, it was pretty easy for him to befriend your brothers as well, especially when he found out they were both huge sports fans.

As the boat sailed idly around the open water, the party roared smoothly, new and old friendships forging deeper bonds. Music played from the speakers, Landos playlist quickly being switched out for your own.

After a few hours, the boat stopped and Lando was quick to throw himself overboard, his happy shouts echoing as he hurtled toward the water below. He’s followed by Logan who reaches the water with a surprisingly elegant dive, his departure causing a begrudging Oscar to jump after him.

Then comes your brothers, the pair of them roughhousing the second they both come up for air.

You roll your eyes playfully as you watch them all come down, you and Max having been already laid out on the lower deck, the water lapping at the edge of the boat just a few feet away.

You snort as you watch a couple of your own friends push eachother into the water, your head turning back toward the sun above you when you hear the splash of them entering the water.

Your eyes stay closed as the sun shines down on you, the warmth spreading through your skin. Though your eyes do shoot open when you feel water splash over top you and a loud laugh rings out next to you.

Max watches as you sit up, your eyes locking on Daniel who’d just stepped over you in order to cannonball into the ocean, successfully converting both you and Max in the cold water. Max was fighting the urge to laugh, scared he’d end up being pushed in if he laughed too loudly.

You scowl playfully at the Australian who laughs before diving under for a few seconds, shaking his wet hair as he comes up and getting even more water on you.

You stand up, flipping him off before moving to walk away. Max stands up after you as you toss your sunglasses on a nearby couch, “I’m getting a drink, Max.”

Daniel, though, calls out toward Max, happiness coursing through his words, “You coming in, mate?”

Max glances between you and Daniel before quickly taking a few steps to cut in front of you just as your about to enter the heart of the ship.

“Hi, Max,” you smile cheerfully, no idea what was in store for you in the coming moments.

“Forgive me,” Max mumbles as your furrow your eyebrows.

“What?”

Before you can even ask for clarification, Max scoops you up in his arms and starts to walk back toward the water.

“Max!” You laugh loudly, arms threading around the back of his neck and tightening as he jumps off the edge, both of you hitting the cold water shortly after.

He can hear Daniel’s nearby laugh even under the water, the sound coming through muffled as he pushes his way to the air above, your arms still intertwined behind his neck. As soon as he reaches the top, he can hear you laugh freely, the loud noise rivaling the beauty of the sunlight above.

“I hate you,” you quiet a bit as you say it, though there’s no venom behind your words. In fact, there’s a toothy grin on your face, accenting the sight of your wet face, hair now soaked and dripping as you try your best to stay afloat.

The water runs down your skin in rivulets, catching the rays of lights from above as it drips down, causing you to glow more than you already did under the Mediterranean sun.

Max hums, “I don’t think you do.”

You quirk your head, eyes narrowing as you look closely at him, “I don’t.”

“Y/N!” Your lean away from Max as your name is called, your attentions being drawn over to Logan who seemed to be attempting to drown Oscar, the Aussie trying his best to fight back. Max watches as Logan goes to speak again, Oscar successfully managing to get away, “We’re gonna do the jet-skis!”

You push away from Max and start to paddle toward the younger drivers, Oscar having started to attempt his revenge on the American. Logan, though, is unfazed by the shorter driver, turning to tackle him as you make your way over.

Max’s eyes stay on you as you swim away, watching as you intervene in the fight, pulling Oscar away. Max can’t help the dopey smile that forms on his lips.

“You like her,” Daniel sings, swimming his way to where Max is leaning against the edge of the boat.

Max rolls his eyes, the smile dropping off his face, “Shut up.”

The hours pass by, your friends eventually being pulled back onto the boat in order for it to set sail back home again.

You all come back together for dinner, sitting around on the deck as you dine. At one point. Lando pelts Oscar in the face with an empty water bottle. Oscar, who wasn’t looking up when it happened, mistakes the thrower for Logan and decides to start fighting him again, Lando sitting back with a grin on his face.

Now that they don’t have to stay relatively sober in order to swim, drinks flow much quicker.

As the sun sets on the horizon, your friends spread out across the boat, relaxation seeping into their bones, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to them.

Max laid out on the lower deck with you, watching as the sky explodes with hues of orange and pink. You both watch the sun lower down, a bottle of champagne laying between you.

Max doesnt think he’d even felt so at peace. Or had such a perfect birthday.

Your peace is interrupted after the sun has fully set, making way for the stars to break through and shine next to the moon above you.

You turn around as you hear a chorus of voices shout loudly, “Happy birthday!”

Your met with Lando standing just a few yards away, a cake held tightly in his hands, a few sparklers and candles sticking out of the top of it.

“Awww,” you laugh, standing up to face your friends, “Please don’t sing.”

This causes a laugh to spread through the group, Lando piping up to respond, “I don’t think that would go very well even if we wanted to.”

You snort, walking over to the cake, looking closely at the words written on top. Max sits back as you walk away from him, standing up after a few moments just to observe.

You look a bit closer at the cake before turning around to face Max again. He raises an eyebrow as you beckon him over, one of your hands swinging out to wave him toward you.

Max isn’t entirely sure why you were interrupting your own candle blowing to call him over but he agrees anyway, making his way to your side.

He glances down at the cake, a grin splitting his face as he reads it.

“Happy Birthday

Max & Y/N”

Max laughs slightly, the alcohol currently coursing through him inhibiting him from feeling any amount of embarrassment at the amount of eyes on him.

You turn and grin at him, the soft light of the candles reflecting off your shining eyes. Even in the dark of the night and with salt water stuck in your hair, Max still thinks you look rather beautiful.

You gesture down at the cake, candles still alight on each half, “You wanna blow out the ones on that side?”

Max doesn’t want to look away from your face but he does eventually manage to pull his eyes away, nodding as he spots the candles. You smile, leaning down toward the cake in Lando’s outstretched hands. Max leans as well, and you both are quick to blow out the candles to the cheers of your friends around you.

Lando walks to put the cake down on a table, leaning over to ask your brother to find the plates and forks. As you move to watch the recording of the small celebration on Logan’s phone, Max walks over to the Brit.

“Thanks for the cake thing,” Max says, picking up an abandoned water bottle and taking a quick swig.

Lando quirks his head, rubbing the back of his neck absently, “Thank y/n, not me. She told me that if I were to, hypothetically, get her a birthday cake, she wanted your name on it as well. All hypothetically of course.”

Max laughs, his face softening when he thinks about your conversation about dropping birthday hints for Lando to pick up on. But from Landos recount, this specific hint was a bit more obvious than the other ones. He turns his head to see you laughing at something Logan had said, Oscar looking closer and closer to sleep as the conversation went on.

Maybe if he’d been completely sober, Max would’ve felt a lot warmer at the thought of you thinking about him even for your own birthday party. But he wasn’t completely sober so the only thought he had when he looked at you was just how pretty you were.

Your brother comes back with plates pretty quickly, Lando cutting pieces in the most even way he can, unceremoniously plopping the largest piece down on your plate with a giggle.

Once everyone’s eaten their cake and properly disposed of their plates, it’s just a waiting game until the boat docks again.

You all lay out on the outer decks of the boat, looking up and watching the stars above you. Max can vaguely hear Daniel’s light snores, signaling the Aussie had fallen asleep from where he laid a few yards away.

Once you do dock, all your friends start to make their way off the boat and back to their own homes. Max watches as Logan carries an inebriated Oscar on his back, the Aussie sporting a brand-new, bright red sunburn on his face.

Lando vaguely follows them, the pair having crashed in his place for the weekend considering neither of them resided in Monaco.

Your brothers take the liberty of waking Daniel up, the driver walking tiredly off the boat.

As the rest of your friends leave, Max is left alone with you on the deck of the boat, the moonlight bouncing off the water and lighting up the space between you.

You’ve got something clutched to your side, Max is too out of it to question it.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Max starts, a genuine smile on his tired features, “I’d probably be sat alone on the sim right now otherwise.”

You laugh, not entirely aware of how much truth there was behind his statement, “I’m glad you came, it was really fun.”

Max hums, an absent smile crossing his face as he gazes softly at yours. He’s too busy looking at you to notice you bring your hand up from your side, a small box clutched in your manicured hands.

“I got you something,” your eyes light up as you push the box toward him, glancing between his face and the small white box, “Happy Birthday, Maxie.”

Max accepts the box, though he shakes his head as he does, “You didn’t have to-“

“No, but I wanted to,” you interrupt quickly, grinning and pushing the box closer to Max’s chest.

Max looks at you for a few seconds longer before glancing down toward the box, his hands moving to open it, the top swinging on its hinge to reveal what’s inside. With the amount of alcohol still in his system, it takes a few tries but he does eventually get it open.

Max freezes as he sees what’s inside.

A bracelet, not unlike one of your own, sits gently in the center of the box. Orange and gold thread twist around to form the circle, the threads shining under the distant street lights. Right where the threads come to an end and meet the clasp, a few small charms are clustered together. Max looks a bit closer at the charms and sees a thirty-three, his initials and, lastly, a small lions head.

When Max doesn’t respond immediately, you seem to assume the worst, words falling out of your mouth in a tipsy ramble as you start to pick at a patch on your skin, “If you don’t like it, that’s fine, really! I should’ve asked. Is it too much? I should’ve done one instead of thirty-three, I’m sorry max-!”

Your voice cuts off abruptly as Max’s hands wrap gently around the side of your face, the bracelet being shoved into his pocket. Your eyes widen under his touch, looking up into his own. Max takes a breath before speaking, liquid confidence fueling his words, “Can I kiss you?”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, seemingly searching for words you cannot find before it ultimately falls shut. You nod your head instead.

Max leans down to capture your lips in his, your hands moving to tug gently at his salty hair. Max grins against your mouth before he dives back in, one of his hands sliding to tug your form closer to his. Max feels almost light-headed, the spark of your lips against his causing his brain to practically short-circuit.

When you split to take a breath, you lean your forehead against his. Max’s opens his eyes to glance warmly at your flushed face. When your eyes fall open and lock on his, you lean away, a loud laugh echoing from your lips.

You gaze over him as he brings you back close to him, your hands clasping behind his neck. Your thumb rubs passive circles on his skin as he goes to speak.

“Thank you,” Max says, bringing your attention back to his face, “For the bracelet. It’s perfect.”

You hum, lips turning up into a blushing smile, “I’m glad you like it.”

Max looks down at you with stars in his eyes, watching the way the moon light shines off the side of your face, your features looking even more striking under night sky, “I do. I really, really do.”

At his words you tug him down toward you, leaning your face up to kiss him again.

Just as your lips brush, a loud voice shouts out from off the boat, “Y/N! We’re leaving! If you don’t come now you’ll have to get your own car!”

You groan loudly, shoulders sagging as you rest your forehead against Max’s chest, eyes locked on the ground. Max has to struggle to hold back his laugh, his teeth sinking into his lip. Watching your despair, Max is struck by an idea.

“You could stay with me?” Max suggests, grinning as your head pops up.

“Could I? I don’t want to deal with Logan and Oscar, especially not while hungover,” you brighten as you ask him.

Max, instead of answering, grabs your hand, pulling you off the boat. You speed up for a few steps in order to fall into his side, his arm coming up to wrap around your shoulder.

As Max leads you up toward the street, you’re met with Lando stood at the open car door, tiredness clear in his stance. If Max were to lean forward, he’d see Oscar and Logan passed out, limbs tangled in the cramped seats.

“You coming then, mate?” Lando asks you, pushing his glasses up on his face. Max isn’t entirely sure why he was still wearing sunglasses in the dark of the night but he chose not to question it.

You flush, leaning into Max’s grasp, “I’m staying with Max.”

Lando smirks, raising his glasses to look between the two of you with a nod, “Don’t have too much fun tonight.”

You roll your eyes, leaning out of Max’s grasp. Max finds himself missing the feeling of your body next to his. He doesn’t have to miss it for too long, though, as after you plant a gentle kiss on Landos cheek, you fall right back into Max’s hold.

“Thank you for the party, Lan. Love you.”

Lando rolls his eyes, sliding his glasses back down his face as he shakes his head, “Yeah, yeah, love you too. I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow, you should bring your boyfriend.”

It Max’s turn to blush, a chuckle leaving his lips. Instead of replying, you both walk away from the Brit, Max laughing loudly when he hears Lando mumble something about “birthday shagging” from behind your backs.

You both continue to walk away, Max bringing you closer to his side and your head falling against his shoulder.

Max leans over to press a kiss to your temple, your skin warm against his lips, “You ready to go home?”

You pause, looking up at Max as he looks down at you. You state warmly up at him for a few moments, simply taking in the look on his face. Your smile widens as your cheeks flush, “I’d love to.”

—————————————

Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119

[chosocutegf]

husband!Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

cw: smut

husband!Miguel who rents a whole private beach and a beachfront villa just for you two to finally have your well deserved vacation. He makes sure you have all the comforts you might need, and that the whole thing matches your tastes.

husband!Miguel who doesn’t even give you the time to put down your luggages that he immediately picks you up and takes you to first flat surface so he can make love to you. He is so pent up from work that he can’t help the desire surging through his veins, especially when he sees you in that little sundress.

husband!Miguel who goes around wearing short sleeved shirts and shorts. Most of the times he doesn’t even button up his shirts, letting you see his toned abs under it, and the happy trail that disappears in his pants. He enjoys catching you staring at him and making you blush.

husband!Miguel who made sure to buy you all sort of bikinis before leaving so that he could admire you with them on. However, he wasn’t really expecting his cock to be hard all the time at the sight of the little straps clinging to your body, the material barely covering your nipples and cunt, leaving the rest of your skin exposed to his hungry eyes.

husband!Miguel who sulks and follows you around like a puppy when you forbid him to touch you, because for the first days you didn’t even had the time to step on the beach that he was already pouncing on you.

“Por favor, mi amor,” (please, my love) he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your middle from behind and brushing his nose against your neck before leaving a kiss there. You ignore him as you continue to apply sunscreen on your arms, “Lo siento, cariño, but you look so good in your bikinis… you can’t blame a husband who is madly in love with his wife, can you?” (i’m sorry, sweetheart..)

husband!Miguel who is quick to scoop you up in his arms the moment you give up, slap your ass and fuck you nice and slow. He just loves you so much and you make him feel like a horny teenager every time he sees you walking around in those flimsy clothes.

husband!Miguel who takes you snorkeling because he wants to see the beauty of the ocean with you. And he makes it difficult for you when he comes out wearing one of those tight black dry suits, accentuating every muscle of his body and making his broad shoulders and tiny waist stand out more. You gasp when he turns around and you see how good his butt looks in it.

husband!Miguel who holds your hand, everywhere and anywhere. He wants to feel you close, especially when you two go around to explore the local markets, or attend traditional dance performances. If he doesn’t have a hand holding yours, he has an arm wrapped around your shoulders or waist, but rest assured that he is always touching you.

husband!Miguel who wants to take walks on the shore with you, holding you close. He likes them even more when the sun is down, the stars and moon are shining over your heads, and you two talk softly to each other. Those are the moments when Miguel is most vulnerable with you. He loves to see how the moonlight shines over your features, making you look like a goddess and he can’t help but wonder how he got so lucky to have found you.

husband!Miguel that one day decides to rent a boat to take you around. The sun shone on his tanned skin, making him look like a greek god. He was wearing his sunglasses, his wet hair were slicked back as he stood there, driving and looking sexy. You couldn’t help but snap a few pictures of him looking like that.

husband!Miguel who on the other hand, had difficulty looking away from you lying on the bow of the boat. Your wet skin glistening under the sun, and your little bikini doing nothing to cover your plump curves. He could see your perked nipples poking under the thin material, and it was making his cock throb in his swimsuit.

“Okay, now jump,” Miguel tells you, looking at you with a little grin while you stand at the edge of the boat, looking down at the clear waters. You glance back at him with a pout before resting your hands on your hips, “no, you go first,” you mumble.

Miguel’s rich and low laugh rings in your ears before you feel the boat slightly swaying to one side and the other as he approaches you. He brought the two of you in the middle of ocean, away from the shore, and as you looked down at the deep waters, you couldn’t help being a little nervous. “Vale, mamí,” (all right) he says, kissing your forehead and swatting your ass before jumping with his arms straight over his head.

You cringe as the boat sways and you observe Miguel resurfacing above the waters. He shakes the water from his hair, before looking up at you with a grin, “c’mon, cariño, you can do it”. Soon after, you find yourself gripping him tightly in the waters, looking at him and chuckling as he stays afloat and holds you above him.

husband!Miguel who buys you as many piña colada as you want when you go to a local bar. He makes sure to hold you close to him while you dance around him, drink in hand, and smiling widely. He is fascinated by you until you decide to grind your ass against his middle, your short dress really making it hard for him to resist you. When he can’t hold back anymore, he takes you back to the villa and makes sure to fuck the brattiness out of you.

husband!Miguel who wakes up one day and you aren’t in bed. He can’t help the panic that surges in him, and he is quick to stand up to search around the house while calling out your name. However, his nerves immediately relax when he looks out the wide window facing the beach and he sees you sunbathing at the shore.

He makes his way out of the villa, his eyes widening when he sees you sunbathing. Naked. The waves gently hit your body, making you look like an ocean nymph. He groans and reaches down to adjust his cock in his boxers, feeling himself already getting hard. “Mamí,” he calls you, stopping when he is close enough to let his eyes roam down your body, “¿Que haces?” (what are you doing?). You pry your eyes open under your sunglasses, smiling when you see your husband towering over you, “sunbathing,” you tell him.

He kneels down next to you, his finger tracing down your stomach and making you shiver while his gaze is fixed on your perky nipples, “you had me worried when I didn’t see you in bed…,” he murmurs, and you notice how his voice deepens and his eyes look down your body, “sorry, Mig, didn’t want to”.

He clicks his tongue and doesn’t say anything as he pries your legs open, swearing under his breath when he sees your glistening cunt, and positions himself between your legs. He is quick to dive in your pretty pussy, not caring about the waves hitting his back. He stays there until he is sure you’re properly satisfied.

husband!Miguel who starts to hide your bikinis from that moment on. If you have to swim, you’ll do it naked, so that he can catch a glimpse of your little cunt when you dive in the ocean. He will start to swim naked too after you complain that you don’t want to be the only one naked.

husband!Miguel who loves to make you angry when you are laying down on a towel, and he crawls on top of you, water dripping down his body and hair, wetting you. You scream at him and try to push him away but he is stronger and starts to pepper kisses all over your face, pressing his body down against yours. Then he makes love to you because he can’t hold back when his wife is laying under him so prettily.

I love Miguel so much, IT HURTS

probably gonna write more about this, let me know your thoughts (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

(m.list)

[bunnys-kisses]

Hello,

If you're still taking orders, would it be alright if I ordered profiteroles with a side of champagne with max verstappen please.

bakery menu

want to order something? find the menu above to see all of our delicious treats! remember to specify who you want to bring you your order! as for this one, i am biting my first. i am biting my fist a sugar daddy max verstappen who is painfully desperate. big ol' simp.

profiteroles: ("come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go.") + champagne (sugar daddy au) served by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, sugar daddy au, needy!max, missionary,

the money was nice. you saw how that watch of his gleamed in the sunlight when you two were on his boat. it was nice to see your debt trickle away until it hit zero. it was all nice, the kind of money you'd sell your morals for. you'd even take it out of his hand with your mouth like a dog if it meant keeping every last scent.

the one thing you didn't except, was a needy sugar daddy.

you were in max's penthouse, cooking breakfast while the driver kept around you like a shadow.

"scrambled or fried there, mon ombre." you said as you looked to him. you smiled softly, "i can't guarantee that they'll come out fried."

he pulled away from the wall of the kitchen and settled his hands on your hips. his nose in your hair behind your ear, "i know you can do well. i know you're a good girl."

you chuckled, "right right." you leaned over and cracked two eggs in the pan and had max following you closely as you put the shells in the garbage. then followed you back to the stove, his arms remained a fixture around your waist.

max liked to be around you. he once said it was like flowers in the sun. he curled around you as you cooked. the agreement was that you were his live-in girlfriend while he was in monaco, when he went away for races you could either stay at his penthouse or go back to your apartment (which also paid for).

while he was away, he made sure that you still got your "allowance", it basically was on auto-pay. you thought it was a big of an ego stroke that he paid you right before a race. as he was about to get into that car and drive his heart out.

but when you got the notification, you smiled a little bit. as if you weren't watching the race on a (illegal) live stream.

you didn't think much about competitive driving when you started. you knew of formula one, but nothing of this new generation of drivers and drama. you had seen a few faces plastered on adverts, but couldn't really place a name to them. so when you met max through a "friend", you had a whole world to learn about.

his eggs came out scrambled, but he happily ate them with a slice of toast. it was the only way he'd part from you. he gazed at you from across the table, his foot rubbed against your ankle.

his desire for closeness was sated. he washed the dishes for the both of you, leaving them in the dish rack to dry before he was on you once more.

max paid handsomely for you. you just wanted enough to survive, but he always pushed your pay more. he never told you how much he made in a year, but a quick google search answered your question.

after breakfast, he got you into the bedroom. his hands around your middle once more. his lips on the back of your neck, when you got close enough to the bed, he pulled the bottom of your shirt up your back and over your head.

you turned to him and gazed at him as he pulled you in for a searing kiss. he tasted like ketchup and butter as he got your bra off of you. you felt a thump in your chest when he got his shirt off. his toned body always looked so nice

"you have tanlines." you remarked as you ran a finger down his arm, seeing how it went from darker to lighter, "maybe red bull should put you in a tank tops to even it out." you chuckled.

he raised his eyebrows, "maybe you should wear one, red bull across those pretty tits." he cupped them and rubbed your nipples with his thumbs.

you held onto his biceps and remarked, "maybe your little logo, i think it would nicer." then winked at him. you were moved to the bed and max quickly got the rest of your clothes off and onto the floor.

it was followed by his basketball shorts and briefs. he got into bed with you and pressed you under his body. he kissed at your face with such devotion. he loved the feeling of you under him.

"you're so good for me." he said, "you always listen. so pretty for me. always making sure that i'm taken care of. do i do the same for you?"

you cupped his face and chuckled, "max. of course you do." when got put on your back and your legs around him. you eyed the sight of his erect cock, it made your stomach flip.

"more than just money?" he asked.

you replied, "max, of course." you reached up and touched his face, "i'm surprised that we aren't already dating."

his heart flipped and his cock twitched. he said, "well." then swallowed, "you know how busy i am with racing." his hands trailed down your soft sides, "it wouldn't be fair to you. honestly."

you chuckled, "don't worry, max. i know. don't worry. you're already enough." then leaned up to kiss him before he settled one hand on your hip and the other on his cock.

"too good for me." he said under a low breath before he rubbed his cock up against your sweet pussy. he slowly sank in and then placed both hands on your hips. he grit his teeth as he pushed into you.

you wrapped your legs around him and felt his cock nudge against the deepest parts of you. he curved over you to kiss you on the lips as he thrust further into you. you held onto his shoulders and let him try to get as deep as he could inside of you.

"max."

"yes?"

"why do you spoil me?" you asked as he moved against you. you clung to his shoulders tightly, nails dug into his broad shoulders. you felt the sweat down your neck.

"because when i look at you." he said between heavy breaths, "everything feels alright. even if i lose, to know that i get to come back to you. to be spoiled as i spoil you." he leaned in to kiss you on the lips.

you clawed down his back as you felt your core throb. you whined between heavy thrusts. you felt so protected by him. he kissed down your neck as he continued to thrust.

"don't make me blush, max." you said softly.

"why? you look so good when you do. especially when you try to hide from me, treasure." he chuckled as he kissed you on the lips once more.

he continued to thrust up against you. you held onto him tightly, your nails left angry tracks across his backside. his pace became more brutal the more that he thrusted into you. you could feel him deep inside of you, it felt so good.

it made your gut pool into a heap of warmth as he continued to move against you. you whimpered and whined, you felt your heartbeat deep in your chest.

you kissed his cheek some more and down his jaw, you felt the sweat pin prick your back as you clung to him. you even gave his jaw a small kitten lick which made him groan.

"such a pretty girl. perfect for me." he said, "i can't believe that you let me into your life."

you chuckled, feeling more heat in your cheeks, "what life, i was in university for a dumb degree with no job prospects."

he said, "no, it wasn't stupid."

you chuckled and clung to him, "see, you spoil me." then panted heavily against your sugar daddy.

"come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go." he panted between heavy thrusts. he wanted to be close to you all the time, he wanted to feel you close to him. he wanted to say something else, but didn't want to ruin the moment.

he could only give you a time away, somewhere, anywhere, you'd be with him.

he wanted to bask in your rays for days on end. he wanted some peace with his beautiful girl.

you moaned, "of course. please! ah, i need to cum." you dug your nails further into his shoulders as he thrusted up into you.

"good, good." he panted, "so good for me, letting me have all your attention." he held onto you tighter as he pushed his cock as deep as he could possibly go. he wanted to enjoy every inch of you, inside and out.

you tightened your hold on him and panted heavily. a few more heavy thrusts and he finished inside of you. he grit his teeth and felt the heat down his back. you came soon after as he continued to fuck you, the two of you holding on to one another.

he slowed down and held you for a moment. those strong arms around you, he felt like a sense of safety. you laid there, heavily panting. he pressed kisses to your face.

"i'm a lucky man." hie said, his voice low but gentle. he kissed the top of your head before he got off of you and laid next to you under the thin white sheet.

you felt like home to max. but cat got his tongue whenever he tried to ask you out on a proper date. to be more than just someone to pay to be a pretend girlfriend.

he wanted you in ways that made his heart thump in his chest. you kept him alive, you eternal sun.

-

the next morning you laid next to him in bed. his strong arm over your middle as he kissed at your jaw. in a few days he'd be in some other country, doing some other race.

so he'd have to be clingy from a distance. and that was the hardest part. he shift next to you and sighed contently. he said to you, "my offer still stands. when i come home, let's go away somewhere."

you looked at him, "i'd love to. anywhere with you, max. you take me wherever and i'll go."

he kissed your cheek and said, "good, i'll give you the whole world."

[withahappyrefrain]

Ruin the Friendship- Bob Floyd

Warnings: Best friends to lovers trope, it’s so obvious they love each other they’re stupid, language, filth, some angst (why not?), unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), Bob being pussy drunk.

Summary: The night before Bob leaves for Boot Camp, he's learned no one has gone down on his best friend. He's determined to fix that.

Words: 4.8K

This is for @attapullman's Bob Fucks celebration!

When you've been friends with someone since preschool, you get to know them like the back of your hand. Certain quirks and sayings that no longer surprise you. 

“God, I wish that were me.”

It wasn't the first time Bob heard you say that. Usually there was a cute dog around, or a sushi boat being delivered at a restaurant when you said it. 

But saying it during an oral sex scene in a movie was new. 

It also brought up many questions. 

Questions Bob shouldn't ask, considering he's known you since preschool. Questions Bob couldn't ask right now, because he was too preoccupied looking at you. 

Your eyes were fixated on the screen, focused on the actress withering. Occasionally, they would dart to the other actor who was between the actress’ thighs. Bob noticed the increased rise and fall of your chest, how your front teeth dug into your bottom lip, how when you lean forward, the v-line cut of your shirt showed off the tops of your breasts. The soft glow of the lamps highlighted the beautiful features on your face. 

All things he shouldn’t be noticing about his best friend. But then again, best friends shouldn’t be watching a French film together whose plot line focused on sexual liberation before he went off to Navy boot camp. 

Granted, you and Bob haven’t had a conventional best friend relationship in a while, if at all, considering both sets of parents claimed you two promised to marry each other at the age of four. 

Promises or not, best friends shouldn’t be one another’s first kiss. Or make out practice partners. Or each other’s New Year's kiss when y'all were single. Or spend Valentine's Day together at the local dinner. 

The line between friends and something more was blurry, saved by a comment that ensured the other to think that the feelings that had been brewing weren't reciprocated. 

“You’re a good kisser. Kelsey McCoy is going to think so too.”

“If Tommy Delaine doesn't like you, he's a dumbass.” 

“I’m sure next year you’ll have someone.”

“If I had to spend it with anyone, I want it to be with my best friend.”

“You’re an amazing friend, you know that?”

Why say that if you harbor romantic feelings? Surely, all those kisses and talk of marriage meant nothing to them. 

At least that's what the other thought. 

It's because of this blurry line that Bob doesn't bite his tongue, doesn't throw away the comment to be forgotten. Instead, he speaks up. 

“Been awhile?” 

And because it's Bob, the guy you've known your whole life, the guy you tell everything to, your response rolls off your tongue without a second thought. 

“Try never.” 

It takes Bob a moment to process your words as the way your lips wrap around the beer bottle is far too distracting. But just like processing a car accident, once it registers, your words bring his brain to a screeching halt. 

“Wait, never?” The shrug you give isn’t satisfactory. He grabs the remote to pause the movie, ignoring your cries of protest. 

“Real talk; are you saying that no one has ever gone down on you?” 

You sigh, regretting saying anything in the first place. One would think that after years of friendship, you’d know well enough that once Bob set his mind to something, he wouldn't relent until satisfied. 

You down the remnants of your beer, mentally preparing for this conversation. 

“No Robby. I've never had someone eat me out. Happy now?” Reaching for the remote was all in vain, as he just held it further away from you. 

Darn those long limbs. 

“But you've been with people…..so what did they do?” When you looked at him, there was no malice, just Bob looking genuinely baffled. His gentle blue eyes put you at ease, giving you the comfort to explain. 

“They would touch me,” you motioned to the lower half of your body, “And like finger me. Enough to get me ready, I guess.” 

Bob raised an eyebrow, “You guess?” 

College was supposed to be a time for you to explore, to figure yourself out, to interact with new people. 

And yet, when it came to the relationship aspect, everything had fizzled. You were now going into your junior year having yet to experience a meaningful romantic relationship. 

Did you just have shit luck? Or was it because your mind would wander back to a bespectacled best friend when you were in bed with someone else? 

“So instead of eating you out, which would actually be enjoyable on your end, you're telling me they just stuck their hand down there and hoped they were rubbing your clit? You didn't ever ask them to do something else?” 

Bob didn't have the pristine mouth that parents thought he possessed. You knew, and had known for a while. And yet, hearing him say the phrase your clit in his deep, slightly twangy voice felt different. 

You rubbed your thighs together. 

“Are you shaming the people I've been with or me?” 

Bob closed the difference between you and him on the couch, placing a hand on your bare knee. 

Have his hands always been so big and veiny? 

Fuck, did you have a thing for hands? 

“I'm not shaming you. I’m shaming the people you've been with because well,” he ran a hand up and down the back of his neck, “Well, I enjoy giving….I like doing it. So I guess I'm surprised other people don't?” 

His statement was shocking because everyone else you had been with viewed it as a chore, as something to use every excuse in the book to avoid doing. 

Too tired. Takes too long. Wet enough so what's the point? 

“You…like doing it?” 

The tops of his cheeks reddened, despite a smirk beginning to form, “Yeah. I like giving and I like making them feel good. It's also a confidence booster, being able to make someone fall apart with your mouth.” 

It shouldn't come as a surprise, it was Bob after all. The same Bob who always brought an extra pencil with him to algebra, in case you forgot yours. The same Bob who shared his Dunkaroos because your mom refused to buy them. The same Bob who made his dream of serving his country finally come true after years of hard work. 

He was selfless. But this didn't feel like selflessness. Hearing him talk about giving pleasure, making someone fall apart with his mouth, was different. Even his voice when he said it was different, raspier than usual. 

“Well,” you scooted closer to the edge of the couch, trying to widen the gap so he couldn't feel how hot your body was, “I can't wait ‘til I meet someone who feels the same way.” 

“You don't have to wait.” 

The grip on your beer bottle tightened, the alcohol getting caught in your throat. There's no way he could have just said that, no way he could be implying what you're thinking. 

But when you look at Bob, he was staring back with raised eyebrows and thin lips curled into a little smirk. The same look he’s given you countless times before when he mumbles a smartass comment only your ears were privy to hear. 

You heard me. 

“What-are you…” You stared at him, mouth agape. Bob appeared unphase by it, like he had just offered something totally normal and rational. 

Perhaps it was the three beers he had downed. Perhaps it was the rush of adrenaline kicking in after realizing this was his last chance at making a move before he left. 

“Wouldn't that be like crossing a line?” Your head was racing, alternating between flashbacks of when you kissed Bob and imagining what it would be like to have his mouth on your body. 

“Wouldn't be much different from what we’ve already done.” 

All the air was sucked out of the room by his comment. Because of course he wasn't doing this because he wanted to, because he wanted you. This would be meaningless, just like everything else. If you went through with this, you’d wake up the next day to Bob leaving with nothing changed, still in this seemingly endless limbo. 

Long, nimble fingers hooked themselves under your chin, gently forcing you to look up. 

The look he gave you was unfamiliar. His eyes remained focused on your face, though it seemed like they were searching. 

For what, you couldn't tell. 

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Do you want it to be different?” 

What good was telling him if he didn’t feel the same way, thus ruining a great friendship?

“Do you want it to be different Robby?” You countered back. 

He leaned in, his breath hot on your face, “I asked you first.”

He thought he had the upper hand. But you were like a lightning bug, faster.  

“I asked you second, Robby.”

Like a rubber band, the tension snapped as Bob was unable to hold back a snort of laughter. The tension left your shoulders, the sight of him laughing familiar and safe. 

“I’m going to really miss your resounding maturity,” Bob deadpanned after gaining the ability to compose himself, though a sweet crooked smile remained. 

It was now your turn to roll your eyes, though it didn’t stop the smile currently forming on your face. Seeing this side of Bob was always fun; most folks thought he was quiet and meek. The truth was that he liked to observe and didn’t find value in speaking when it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t hold back with you, didn’t feel the need to sit and observe. He truly conversed with you and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel special. 

He was never that way with the other girls he dated. 

“You love me,” you teased back. It was a comment you've said countless times, always with that sweet, albeit mischievous smile that made Bob's heart flutter. 

But this time instead of shaking his head or rolling his eyes, he leaned forward until your foreheads were touching. 

Seeing him up close took your breath away. You could see how his roots were beginning to darken, the blonde fading as he got older. The little scar on his chin from a BB Gun incident when he was ten. Eyes bluer than the ocean. The ends of his hair were beginning to curl, something you'd greatly miss when he'd get the military mandated buzz cut. 

“Yeah, I do.” There was no teasing in his voice. No mischief in his eyes. Instead of playfully shaking your shoulder, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, fingers cupping your warm skin. He was moving quickly, making you unable to truly process what he had just said. 

Despite it being new territory, he was handling it beautifully. You, on the other hand, were torn between wondering if your increased heart beat was medically concerning and how large Bob’s hands were. 

“You gotta….if you want to stop, tell me,” His breathing had increased, like it did when he had finished his part in the marching band. But this wasn’t marching band practice and y’all weren’t on the high school field. You were in your parents’ basement, with Bob’s lips quickly closing the gap between yours and his. 

It wasn’t your first time kissing Bob, but it might as well have been. Years of experience had given him more confidence. He knew where to put his hands now, one still on your neck to guide you, the other gripping the soft flesh of your hip. He didn’t hesitate to slide his tongue across your bottom lip, successfully driving you wild. 

When the rounded tip of his nose brushed against yours, a soft laugh escaped your lips. Bob didn’t mind, using the chance to let his tongue explore your mouth. Your body leaned towards him, hands gripping the soft fabric of his old Warped Tour T-shirt. 

“I thought you,” your words were slurred, a weak moan interrupting your speech due to his lips moving down to your neck, “Thought you were gonna eat me out.” 

Bob’s moan vibrated against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands traveled to your breasts, gripping them through your T-shirt. It wasn't a hard squeeze, which is what you were used to. 

It was pleasurable. Bob was pleasurable. 

“Did none of the guys you were with do foreplay?” He asked, his hands continuing their ministrations. 

“I-fuck- yes they did, it just never took this long,” you grunted against his lips. 

“God, you have terrible taste in men.”

You wanted to let Bob know that he was now included in that group. But then his fingers hooked themselves around the band of your shorts, pulling them down. Had you known what tonight would entail, you would have opted for underwear that wasn't so worn. The long hairs on his arms tickled your sensitive skin as he moved to kneel on the floor, the cool basement air making you realize just how wet you were. 

How could he do that so quickly? 

He pinned your hips against the soft couch cushions. With anyone else, you would complain with how hard he was gripping your soft skin. But with Bob, you’d love it. It meant hand-shaped bruises that would stay after he left, reminding you of tonight. 

When his sharp nose nudged your clothed slit, a loud gasp erupted from your mouth. 

Thank god your parents were on vacation. 

His tongue was so wide as it stroked the quickly dampening fabric. How was he able to find your clit so quickly? Most struggled to find it even after your panties had been taken off. 

Bob couldn’t help but chuckle upon hearing your strained whimpers. You were practically squirming, hips erratically jerking with every touch. 

“Wha-why did you stop?” You whined, looking down to find him staring up to you. 

“Are you-I just need to know, do you still want this?” God, he was so fucking considerate. In any other moment, you’d find it endearingly sweet. 

But if his tongue felt that good against your covered cunt, you were dying to feel it without the barrier. 

“Robby, I swear to god, if you don’t eat me out, I’m going upstairs and using my vibrator,” Your voice was strained, your knuckles turning white from gripping the couch cushions.  

He laughed.  Bob knew you were bluffing. He had just gotten started and you were already so wet. 

Slowly, he took his glasses off, placing them on the coffee table behind him, making a show of it. 

“Won’t need those. I’m nearsighted after all.”

“You little-” The insult remained unsaid, as Bob pushed your underwear to the side, his mouth instantly latching onto your swollen clit. 

His mouth was warm. The pressure wasn’t too much, just enough to make you wither in pleasure. It felt so good, so fucking good. When Bob looked up, he found your mouth open, despite no sounds coming out. 

Good. 

You deserved to know what it was like, to have someone care about your pleasure, to focus solely on making you feel incredible. 

God, he could feel his cock throbbed. You looked so pretty with your eyes glazed over, mouth agape as you watched him, completely enthralled. 

And he had just gotten started. 

He wanted to do more than make you come, he wanted to blow your mind. Call it selfish, but Bob wanted to ruin you for anyone else. He had always held back his tongue when it came to the people you dated, knowing sooner or later you'd realized they weren't worth your time. 

But now he had his chance and Bob sure as hell wasn't going to let it slip away. 

The loud sound of fabric ripping broke you out of the pleasure filled haze you were in. Before you could make a sound about your now ripped underwear, your knees were pinned to your chest, giving Bob complete access to your soaked core.

“So fucking sweet,” He groaned against your cunt, sending vibrations all through your body, “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” 

“Robby.” 

To say Bob dreamed of hearing you moan his name would be the understatement of the fucking century. 

Your whole body was on fire, unable to do anything else but take everything Bob was giving. 

A resounding moan fell from your lips as Bob thrusted two fingers inside you, your walls struggling to accommodate the unexpected stretch. 

Was he this thick elsewhere?

You wanted to find out. Wanted to feel it inside you, in your mouth. You shamelessly wanted it all. But you couldn’t even voice that because Bob was tracing figure eights on your clit, his fingers brushing against a spot you thought Cosmo had made up. 

Fuck, he was doing a number on you. His soft hair threaded through your fingers as you gripped the strands. Your hips involuntarily jerked upwards, desperate to get as much of Bob as possible. 

You kept expecting him to stop, considering you were wet enough for him to fuck you. That's what everyone else did. 

But Bob Floyd wasn't like everyone else. Far from it. 

He was fucking delighted to hear all the cute, strained noises coming from you as he continued.  Each time you tugged on his hair, a groan would fall from his lips. It was the prettiest sound you had ever heard. 

Why did either of you wait this long? 

You tried to communicate, to let him know you were close, tugging on his hair, trying to move away from his mouth. 

But Bob was deceivingly strong, using his free hand to pin your hip back to the couch, his mouth firmly on your pussy. 

When you looked down, you were in awe of how blissed Bob looked. His eyes were closed as his mouth remained latched to your clit. The sounds of your own wetness were obscene, but barely audible over the moans Bob was letting out. 

He really did enjoy it.

“Come. Wanna taste ya,” His voice was muffled as he added a third finger inside you. 

Worried thoughts of coming on his face left your brain as pleasure coursed through your veins. Without any warning, the band that had been tightening came undone.

Bob used both hands to hold your hips firmly in place, his tongue lapping up your release. 

You don't recall coming this hard or this long before. It wasn't a small wave, it felt like the whole damn ocean was taking you under. 

His fingers continued to stretch you open, prolonging your high. The Navy was the perfect fit for him, considering he could apparently hold his breath for an impressive amount of time. 

The soft fabric of the couch cushions brushed as the back of your head, your eyes half closed. You couldn't even voice an acknowledge when Bob’s mouth and fingers withdrew from your abused cunt. 

“You're so pretty when you come,” Bob murmured, his lips brushing against yours. 

Your hands tugged on the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. 

“M-my turn,” you whined, hips jerking up towards his. 

Bob shook his head, “Wanna be inside ya.” 

How was this the same guy who feared clowns as a kid? 

Before you could even question it, Bob had sat down on the couch, gripping your hips to help you straddle his lap. When had he taken off his jeans? How was he so quick- 

Jesus Christ, he was huge. 

“Fuck, she was right.” 

Bob looked up from where you two were about to connect, a very confused look on his face, “Excuse me?” 

“Betsey Thomas said you had a huge dick,” you confessed, wishing that you'd think before speaking for once. 

Bob’s brows knitted together in confusion, “Betsey Thomas has never seen my dick, the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Said she could tell you were packing because of the gym shorts you'd wear for PE class.” Bob signed, shaking his head as he muttered something about the required uniform. 

“I….we can unpack this later-” 

You snorted, “Why? Too busy packing here?” 

Your laughter was cut short by Bob rubbing his cock against your soaked cunt. Memories of high school escaped your brain, the only thing you could focus on now was Bob and his huge dick. 

Curious wasn't accurate. Frankly, you were desperate for him. Had been since middle school, if you were being truthful. 

“Woah, hey. Easy baby, easy,” his voice made your thighs clench, made you whine into his shoulder as you tried to line your aching hole with his cock. 

Finally, you felt him at your entrance. Slowly, he filled you up inch by inch. Every time you tried to urge him to go faster, Bob would simply shake his head before pressing a kiss against your cheek. 

“Don't want to hurt ya darlin’.” 

Darlin. You were his darlin. 

He made you feel so full, and you didn't even have it all inside of you yet. All you could do was cling to him as he whispered praises in your ears. 

Once you reached the base, it felt like you and Bob were the only ones in the world. At least, that’s what you pretended. It was better than thinking about how he would be gone for who knows how long after tonight. After boot camp was done, he would be off to train for the Navy. 

Even he didn't know when he would return home. 

It wasn't fair, finally expressing your feelings for one another just to be separated immediately after. You wanted him to stay, to go on dates with him, to visit him on the weekends when school started, just like everyone else in a long distance relationship. 

“Hey, what's wrong? Do you- we can stop if you want, it's okay.” Bob’s voice was soft, full of concern. 

His hand lifted your chin up from his shoulder, revealing your watery eyes. 

“I don't want you to go.” 

“I know,” his voice was barely a whisper, matching your volume. Long fingers gently traced over your face, as if he was trying to memorize them. 

“I know it's horrible timing, but we'll figure it out, okay? I want to figure it out with you, I promise,” He peppered your face with soft kisses, earning a small smile out of you. 

“But for now, can I make ya feel good? Because I'm willing to bet no guy has made you come while fucking ya.” 

Unlike in the past, where Bob’s smartass comments earned him a shove, you pressed your lips against his. 

“I'm gonna start moving now, okay?” Even though he warned you, nothing could have prepared you for how full Bob made you when his hips thrusted upwards. 

“You're-fuck- you feel so good, oh my God.” 

Your fingers tangled into Bob’s hair, trying to commit the feeling to memory. 

Bob was trying to do the same, his hands roaming over your body as he took in your scent. Maybe if he asked nicely, you'd let him take a bottle of your perfume with him. 

He was going to need it for the next few months. 

Your mouth clashed against his, tongue desperate to taste him. Wandering hands desperate to feel everything everywhere. 

“When-fuck- when I come back, wanna take you out. W-we can go to that Italian place by your school. The one where you have to wear a tie.” How Bob was able to talk coherently while fucking you was beyond comprehension. 

The Navy will be lucky to have his great ability to multitask. 

“Gonna bring ya flowers too. Sunflowers ‘cause they're-oh my god- you're favorite.” You didn't think you could recall your full name with the way Bob is thrusting into you, much less favorite things. 

Your walls clench around Bob’s thick cock, eliciting a desperate groan from him, rather than the instant ejaculation you were used to. 

“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna come,” Bob whined into the crook of your neck.

“That’s-shit- the point,” you grunted, your hips picking up speed. 

Bob shook his head, “Need you to come first.” 

Confusion caused you to still your hips, “Bob, I already-” 

“Don't finish that sentence, don't you dare,” Bob ended his command with a strong thrust that made you feel as if he was splitting you open on his cock. 

Your head dropped down to the crook of his neck. His skin was so warm and the smell of sage was nearly overwhelming. You knew exactly what body wash he had used, as it was the same one he wore ever since junior year, when you commented on how nice it was. 

In hindsight, it was painfully obvious. 

His lips found yours, capturing them in a desperate kiss. When you felt his fingers draw circles on your clit, you saw stars. 

You didn't know it could feel this good with someone. This was more than a quick fuck, as you actually felt cared for. It was intense, the sensitivity of your first orgasm still echoing every time the thick head of his cock brushed against your walls. 

It's audible how wet you are for Bob. He can feel it at the base of his cock, which makes him wonder what it would be like to have you on your knees, or better, your back, all spread out for him. 

“C’mon sweet girl,” he’s panting, voice desperate and raspy, “Wanna-fuck! Wanna feel you come s’bad, please, please baby.” 

Each circle drawn on your clit causes the band in your stomach to tighten. Combined with Bob’s words, you knew you wouldn't last much longer. 

“You're incredible, shit, I-fuck. All yours. Wanna be all yours. Fuck fuck fuck, clenching me so hard, fuck, don't stop.” Obscene was not a word many, if any, would use to describe Bob Floyd. 

Up until thirty minutes ago, you would have considered yourself part of that group. 

But now? Now you were falling apart on his cock. The rush of pleasure had hit like a brick, coursing through your veins. It hit harder than anything else, harder than the now banned alcohol caffeine combo drink, or any controlled substance doctors had prescribed to help you focus. 

His finger-fuck, usually you had to use two of your own- didn’t stop rubbing your clit, nor does he stop thrusting in and out of your pulsing cunt. It's almost as if-no, you know Bob’s enjoying making you feel euphoria. 

That's what blows your mind. His laser focus on your pleasure, rather than his own. Truthfully, he could have come already and you wouldn't have thought twice about it. 

But now it was all you could think about. How much he cared, how good he felt. How incredible it was for him to pull your hips flushed against his, filling you to the brim with his cock. 

“Holy shit you're so tight-I, sh-should I pull out?” 

Instead of answering, you used all your strength to rock your hips against him. Considering he made you come twice, the least you could do was help him find his release. 

Your fingers gripped his hair, tugging on the strands as your mouth clashed against his. 

The downright guttural groan he releases against your mouth has you clamping down on his cock. The motion finally leads to Bob’s undoing, causing him to come deep inside you, warmth flooding your body. 

His arms are wrapped around your body, clinging onto you as if he thinks you'll disappear if he lets go. 

You’d be a damn fool to. 

The basement is now quiet, apart from the heavy breathing coming from both you and Bob. 

After several minutes pass by, you gather the courage to break the silence, “Did you mean all that? Taking me out on a date and being mine?” 

Bob’s cheek burned a bright red as he timidly nodded his head, “I….yeah. I didn't mean to say it when we were, you know. I'm sorry.” 

You pressed a reassuring kiss to his warm cheek, “Robby, what do you feel the need to apologize for?” 

He looked up to you, those earnest blue eyes sparkling, “Shit timing?” 

“You're not wrong about that, but like you said earlier, I want to work it out with you.” Your words brought comfort, giving Bob the confidence to place a sweet kiss right on your lips. His smile was burning into yours, causing your stomach to flutter. 

“I know it's not that Italian restaurant, but can I take you out to breakfast tomorrow?” 

The local diner had been a go-to since y'all were thirteen. But this time would be different. This time you wouldn't feel the urge to look away when he caught you staring. This time neither one would correct the waitress when she'd make a comment about y'all being a cute couple. 

The soft call of your name pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“Uh can I….eat you out again? Tomorrow obviously! Like before we go to the diner?” 

Good Lord this man was going to be the death of you.

---------------------------------------------------------

@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @attapullman @ryebecca @sio-ina-bottle @rhettabbotts @callsignspark @roosterforme @lewmagoo @hangmanapologist @justabovewater20 @theharddeck @cumholland @bobfloydsbabe @sometimesanalice @heartfairy @auroralightsthesky

[bengals-barnesbabe]

The Girl Behind the Camera

Pair: Joe Burrow x Videographer!Reader

Descr: When The Bengals hire a new social media manager, people start to notice a certain QB coming out of his shell.

TW: mentions of sex, nudity, gossip, racism, classism, invasion of privacy, protective boyfriend!Joe.

Main Masterlist

WC: 2083

*. * ·┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧

"Which of your teammates would you rather be stranded on a deserted island with for 72 hours?"

Was the question being asked on the way out from practice. From behind the black and white jerseys Joe could hear the bouts of laughter from each answer. Most of his more outgoing teammates thoroughly enjoyed walking up to the woman with the camera on a day to day basis, while others like him avoided making simple eye contact with her.

But today's Friday and Fridays are very special on this practice field. Not only do they have shorter practices but the recurring sports journalist major with a sometimes too sunny attitude, is replaced with the new silk press and brown glossy lips-wearing photographer that could stop him in the middle of the busiest highways just with her smile.

"Hey 9!" You beam as he approaches you with rosy cheeks. "Wanna hear today's question?"

I'd listen to anything coming from those pretty lips.

"Sure, whatcha got for me?" His eyes are solely focused on the way your glittery nails push back your dark brown locks and the movement of your lips rather than the content flowing from them.

He stands there motionless for a minute contemplating his answer, when in reality he just wanted to see how long you'd hold his gaze before squirming. 45 seconds is the current record.

"Joey, come on.."

25 seconds, he must look especially good today.

He smirks as your pout forms, or maybe he just likes giving you more work to do in the editing room (aka tonight at his place).

"Are you going to answer or should I shut off the camera?" A chuckle arises from his belly as you attempt to make an authoritarian stance with a smooth caramel leg jutted out and your glistening arms crossed over your chest.

Rolling your eyes at him, you start to ignore him and play around with the camera, before his voice interrupts you. "Alright, I'll answer. Only for you though."

He does his best to revert back to factory settings (aka grump mode as you like to call it) when you give him the go-ahead. "I guess, I'd take Ja'Marr. Hopefully, he doesn't get sick of me in 3 days."

You let out a cute giggle at his response recapturing his gaze from above the camera. He'd make it his life goal to keep that sound pouring from your plump lips.

So he adds to his answer. "Or I'd take my girlfriend, she loves beaches you know. She's kind of the yin to my yang." He smirks nodding to your necklace.

Flustered you try to cover your smile, before asking him a follow-up question. "Would you get on a boat to rescue her, if she somehow got trapped out at sea?"

"Of course, I would," he chuckles. "But then I'd ask where she found a boat in the first place and why she got in it when she doesn't like them either."

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

"Maybe she was just trying to find food for her quarterback boyfriend with a bottomless pit as a stomach." His entire body shakes with laughter as you smile accomplishedly behind the lens.

"That's cute, you know her or something?" You shrug, as he straightens up due to another presence approaching.

"Don't stop on my accord, you did great today J. And you Miss Thing, I can't wait to see the shots you got of my team out there." Coach Taylor praises walking past you, causing your faces to heat up.

"God, I don't know how much of this I can use." Your video voice sombers.

You watch as the orange jersey fills the frame until not even the 9 is visible. "Sounds like you have your work cut out for you. Kind of like how..." His low and teasing voice barely gets picked up on the audio. A shiver runs down your spine because you remember exactly what he said before walking out of view.

"Kind of like how you will when you get home tonight."

'And boy was he right, but not about the editing.' You think gawking at his body as he walks out of the bathroom, water dripping from his hair and shoulders down his nice pecs and delectable abs. His strong arms and toned abdomen are tinted red due to the steamy shower that's releasing vapor into the room.

"Still editing I see?" He asks teasingly as he ruffle-dries his hair with a microfiber towel. You painstakingly nod but push the laptop down and off your lap.

"It can wait." You say as your gaze drops down to the blonde happy trail that disappears underneath the towel secured around his waist. "It's not due til noon anyway."

"Good, I've been thinking about you laid out on my bed for me since we got home." A smirk curves up his lips when he notices your eyes fixated on the bulge of the fabric.

"Lucky me." Then the towel drops. Lucky me indeed.

✧ ⁺ . ° ➶ ｡˚ ✧

Eventually, the video does get edited and uploaded to social media like it's supposed to and your bosses thoroughly enjoy the impressions it brings to the organization.

You tried your best to edit out all of the parts that gave too much about your relationship away without completely taking Joe out of the video. You thought it did a great job, the final cut showed a very professional interaction between the two of you. Everyone was happy.

Until you started trending on Twitter almost 3 days later.

Something you didn't realize before becoming the Bengals' backup photographer/videographer and official social media manager was that your boyfriend rarely if ever participated in the post-practice videos. Anna, their main journalist, did mention that Joe liked to hide from cameras at practice, but you thought she was talking about paparazzi and overzealous fans. It wasn't until you went through every post-practice TikTok video that you realized that she was not kidding at all.

Currently, you are sitting wide-eyed on the couch watching a well-known YouTube gossip talk about your video and your relationship. She hadn't said the word dating yet, but by her analysis of the short clips- she was not very far from finding out.

"I think the key here is the woman behind the camera. Their conversation was short, but you could tell she could get him to say anything. And the way it's cut, oh my god. Anyone could tell that there was much more to this chat than we saw. Sadly, I couldn't find her socials, so the woman behind the camera wins this time."

You paused the video as soon as Joe's footsteps became apparent as he walked toward the area where you were sitting. "Hi, baby!" You cringe at the perky tone of your voice.

"Hi?" He says plopping down next to you and kissing your head. The lingering embarrassment makes your spine stiffen. Joe raises a brow in confusion. "Y/n, what's wrong?"

You huff and pout sinking into the couch cushions. "I kinda fucked up."

"How so?" He asks pulling your hands into his.

"Have you watched my video?" You whisper as if saying it aloud will anger the universe.

"No, but I heard it was doing well. Do you want me to pull it up?" You shake your head immediately. "What's wrong with the video?"

"You're in it." You mumble laying your head on his chest.

"Huh?"

"You hate attention, you hate cameras, and you literally hide from them when we're in public! And I put you in my video!" One of his hands lets go of yours and begins to stroke the back of your head.

"Baby, I put myself in-

"No, I forced you to do the one thing you've always set a boundary on. I'm a shitty girlfriend, I should've just ended it before you walked by or just kept the whole clip for myself."

"Y/n, listen."

"Joey I'm so sorry, everyone is talking about how you and 'the girl behind the camera' are probably a thing. They're probably digging up pictures of us in public at the moment and there's nothing I can do to stop it. All of your business is going to be aired out-

"I know-

"Reporters are going to start showing up to your practices, and paparazzi will be following us. It's a disaster- wait what did you say?" You sniffle pulling your head up to face him. And he's smiling?

"I know and I don't care. All I care about is that the most important woman in my life is safe and happy. That's you mamas." He says softly, wiping away a stray tear from your cheek.

"Wait but you've worked so hard to keep your private life- private and I should've respected that."

He shakes his head. "I wanted to be in that video because you were the one behind the camera. Even if we weren't dating, I would have been in that video and people would've had something to say about it. I did it because you make me happy and I love watching you work. In fact.." He takes his phone out and queues a video onto the TV screen.

"Joe, what is this?" You ask as he comes up in today's outfit looking like it was filmed when he left for work this morning.

"Just watch." He grins.

*In the video he’s seen smiling and taking pictures with fans before his morning meeting.

“Hey Joey B! Over here!” A young boy jumps up trying to get his attention.

Your boyfriend chuckles and shuffles over to the kid to sign his helmet. “Hi, how you doing bud?”

“I’m great! My sister’s sad that you have a girlfriend now though.” The kid vibrates with energy and excitement, very different than his sister who’s glaring at him from the side.

Joe just laughs, gives the kid a fist bump, and moves on to another fan.*

“Joe, you didn’t say anything. What is this supposed to prove?” You huff in confusion.

“I know, that’s just my favorite part. You just need to see what happens next.” He assured pushing your focus back to the TV screen.

*As Joe starts to wave bye to the crowd a swarm of paparazzi and journalists emerge.*

You immediately start to frown because this is exactly what he's been trying to avoid.

*The people behind the giant cameras ask him all kinds of outlandish questions, all of which he ignores until a question about you pops up.

“Joe, are you hiding your girlfriend because you’re ashamed of her career and her race?” He stops right outside the door to the facility and spots the woman who asked the question.

“What did you say?” His eyes squint and brows furrow in the same way as they do when people question his football fatality.

“Last night, the Bengals website updated their faculty and staff page. The only new social media manager was a black woman named Y/n. What other reason could you be hiding your relationship for?” She asks confidently sticking her camera in his space.

“Do you hear how fucking dumb you sound?” He says so calmly making all the eyes around him widen. Including yours as you watch the incredulous look on his face turn to a scowl.

“I’m hiding her from idiots like you guys who follow me around with cameras chasing the wrong narratives. Do you really think I want to hide the love of my life from the world? Cause I don’t, but I would rather us have a good relationship that’s private rather than a shitty one controlled by the media. Literally, look at what happened after one lighthearted joke got taken out of context! And to even comment that her race was an issue? What fucking year do you live in? I would love that woman no matter what she did or how she looked. And it shouldn't matter. All of you are ridiculous. Have a great day.” Then walked into the facility slamming the door behind him.*

When he looks back over at you, silent tears are falling from your eyes. “Shit was it too much.” He says panicked.

You shake your head with a chuckle then lean up to press a chaste kiss on his lips. “No, it was perfect. I love you so much, Joseph.”

He returns the sweet kiss and holds you close. “I love you more than anything Y/n. I’d do anything for you, never forget that.”

“I won’t.”

~●○°●○°●○~

a/n: sorta kinda inspired by @slimshiesty, if you know you know and you absolutely should know.

[hoshifighting]

lyla I love what you write!!! I spend most of my nights diving into your tumblr and i never get tired of it!! <33

now im putting my shyness aside but still hiding on anonymous lol to request a yoga/pilates princess reader × seventeen gym lime pls?? how they would take advantage of it 😮‍💨

thank uuu love u

seventeen gym rat line x pilates princess reader

WARNINGS: smut, mentions of toned body, dirty talk, flexibility and strength

seungcheol “fuck, how are you so damn flexible?” seungcheol mutters, watching you bend in ways that make his thighs burn just from looking. pilates isn’t his thing; give him weights any day, but the way you move? he’s obsessed. he loves how you can effortlessly hold a position, legs stretched out, hips open—shit that drives him crazy. every time you strut out of the studio in those tight leggings, he’s already planning how he’s gonna have you later. “c’mere,” he pulls you close, hands sliding down to your hips, his lips brushing against your ear. “gonna bend you just like that, baby, but you’ll be screaming my name this time.” later, when he’s got you pinned beneath him, legs wrapped around his waist, he’s using all that strength to make you tremble. “this what you wanted, huh? my strong arms holding you down while you can’t even think straight?” he’s panting, half from exertion, half from the way you’re squeezing around him.

joshua tries to join you in pilates once, thinking it’s all easy stretches—wrong. the burn in his abs makes him regret every gym session where he skipped core. but watching you? the way your body moves with such grace, he’s a goner. he can’t stop thinking about how it’d feel to have you on top, moving with that same fluidity, every roll of your hips calculated, perfect. “you really have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, pulling you into his lap after your session, his hands sliding up your thighs. “seeing you like that.. it’s fucking hot. now let me show you what it does to me.” he’s not shy about letting you know how you drive him horny, his hands moves to grind your hips on his boner, your legging a thin layer that makes you feel his hard cock.

woozi’s always been focused, disciplined, but pilates tests his patience in a whole new way. “how is this harder than deadlifting twice my body weight?” he grumbles, struggling to hold a boat pose while you casually chat, barely breaking a sweat. afterward, when he’s got you in a deep arch on the bed, your back nearly bending in half as he thrusts into you, he finally understands the appeal. “this… shit, you look so good like this,” he breathes, eyes locked on your body. the way you stretch to take all of him “all that fucking pilates… worth it just to see you like this.” he grips your hips, pulling you even closer, rolling his hips inside you.

mingyu’s the type who thrives on challenges, so when pilates kicks his ass, he’s frustrated. but seeing you in action? it’s like watching a masterpiece. every stretch, every controlled breath, it’s got him all kinds of turned on. especially when you’re wearing those cropped tops that show off your toned body, and your boobs—he’s obsessed. “you’re gonna kill me with those damn leggings,” he groans, pulling you into his arms the moment you step out of the studio, sweaty and glowing. “can’t stop thinking about how those legs would feel wrapped around my head.” so when he finally gets you in bed, he’s eager to try out all the positions you’ve perfected in pilates, his hands roaming your body like he’s trying to memorize every muscle, every curve. “show me what else you can do, princess.”

hoshi “how do you make it look so easy?” hoshi grumbles, trying to hold a plank while you’re effortlessly transitioning into some advanced move. he’s competitive, hates losing, but damn, pilates humbles him. every time he struggles, you flash him that teasing smile, and it’s game over. he’s down bad, not just for how you move, but for the confidence you exude. when you’re in those tight shorts, showing off every line of muscle, he’s barely keeping it together. “you know what i’m thinking, right?” he asks, grabbing you the second you finish your session. “thinking of how good you’d look under me, legs wrapped around my waist, using all that strength to hold on tight. let’s see if you can stay in control when i’m the one making you feel good.” he whispers in your ear, knowing the effect his dirty talk will cause.

chan, when you drag him to pilates, he’s game—until he realizes just how much core strength it actually takes. but damn, does he love watching you. the way you move, the control you have over your body, it’s enough to drive him crazy. and when you’re wearing those tiny shorts, showing off your toned legs? he’s struggling to keep his mind out of the gutter. “how do you make everything look so fucking hot?” he mutters, following you into the locker room after your session, his hands already sliding up your thighs. “you have no idea how hard it is to focus when you’re looking like that.” later, when you’re tangled up in his sheets, he’s determined to see if all that pilates training has paid off, “let’s see how flexible you really are.” he mumbles to himself.

wonwoo can’t deny the way his pulse races when he watches you in pilates, all hot and firm. he’d never admit it, but the thought of you being able to move so fluidly, so powerfully, has him imagining all kinds of things. especially when you’re in those high-waisted leggings, the fabric hugging your curves in a way that leaves little to the imagination. “you know, you could teach me some moves,” he says, trying to sound casual, but his voice comes out rougher than he intended. “like how you can stay so damn composed even when you’re about to fall apart.” when you’re in bed, he can’t help but test that theory, his hands guiding you into a position that leaves you breathless. “let’s see how long you can hold this one, babe.”

[hoshigray]

idk if you’re taking in requests or thirsts but imagine giving toji a lap dance and even then he’s still the one who’s in charge and shiittt 😵‍💫

i want him so bad 😞

lol, why did I think of a stripper AU when I saw this? Also, this ask is like MONTHS old, I'm so sorry...also tysm for 4.9k guyssss, ur too kind

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x stripper fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - sensual movements; lap dances + bumping and grinding - kisses (f! receiving) - clitoral stimulation - breast fondling + nipple play - biting/nibbling- pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart, sweetie) - no penetration, but things get steamy - cameos: Mei Mei, Nanami and Ino. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.7k

You were Toji’s favorite stripper.

You, your coworkers, and all the clients who come to enjoy the show all know this as fact. 

It’s all fun and games that this is your job, and you must cater to all the other men and women who come to see you strut and work your stuff (or else your manager, Mei Mei, would have your head).

But this is something that should never be forgotten. When that raven-haired man with a scar on his lip walks into the premises, everyone has to act right: you’re off-limits because you are his girl. 

Tonight was one of those Friday nights; women gather around the bar top to gather their weekend drinks – and flirt with Kento Nanami, the part-time bartender. Men under the influence howl at the topless entertainers, allowing them to motorboat and stuff cash into their underwear. And Ino, the DJ, plays the tunes that set the mood and keep the place going. 

Toji walks past all of that — he’s not here for it. He strides up to the open area, where there are mini stages abided by booths, a pole for each that comes from the ceiling down. He comes to one of the stages, and a dancer stops midway through her routine to greet the man, ignoring the girls who whine from her mesmerizing dancing coming to a halt. “Toji~, it’s Friday already?” 

“Yup, good to see you, Roxy,” he flashes a quick smile at the named entertainer. “They here today?”

Roxy giggles. “Knew you were going to ask me that. They should be at that back one over there at the corner…Oh! There they are.” She points, and Toji follows her finger to the promised stage and booth at the corner. He grins and gives a curt nod to Roxy before going on his way. “Enjoy the show, Toji~”

At the club corner is a booth filled with tired businessmen who come to drink. But guessing from the grins on their faces, they’re too enamored by what’s in front of them to quench their first. On the pole, twirling around the metal bar, was you. Entertaining the men with the usual routine, a few tricks, and moves to wow the mix of young and old business clients. And they gasp and roar at you, splitting your legs during a high kick.

Unfortunately, though, this was the last of their fun with you. Because after you transition from the pole, taking a client’s hand to have them aid you down the stage, something – or someone – catches your attention from the corner of your eye. You turn and smile, “Hey there, big guy.”

“Hey,” he greets you with a smirk. The guys around the booth watch, most with expressions as if their hearts dropped. Minus one, a young man who felt he should question the man standing next to him. 

“Uhh, excuse me,” he says to the dark-haired, burly man. The other colleagues looked at him as if he lost his mind. “We got this table first, so go over somewhere with the other strippers and—“ 

He could not finish that sentence. Because Toji pulled the kid off his seat with one hand, the poor bastard squeaked at the sudden action. Piercing green eyes bore into his skull, his blood shifting to icy cold. “How ‘bout I have you go somewhere? Either in the trash or six feet under, whichever floats y’r boat.” 

The scared look on the poor kid’s face didn’t change Toji’s attitude. Not even the other guys who were pleading to him to let their friend go, that he didn’t know what he was doing. He did not come here to start something, not tonight. 

And for that, you were the only one who could calmly intervene, dissuading the situation by placing a hand on Toji’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Toji. I was giving these guys a little show before you came in. Now, please let him go, okay? I don’t think Mei Mei would want to deal with another broken arm situation.”

It was the safest option that you spoke to him, his little favorite. So, with a gruff scoff, Toji lets the guy go for him to land on the floor roughly. “You heard ‘em, fellas. Outta my spot.” The entrepreneurs get up and scram with no hesitation, grumbling at the younger colleague for causing such strife in the first place as they walk away somewhere, leaving you and Toji. 

He watches them leave, turning to you when they’re at a respectable distance. Here is when he properly gets a good look at you. God, he could never get enough of you. You were wearing a black laced, caged mesh bra that covered your breasts, matching with lacy bottoms that shaped your hips beautifully. The bra was covered in rhinestones that shined with the club lights, which partnered with the side of your bottoms. And to complete the look, over-the-knee heeled boots that sparkled. A new favorite, Toji thinks.

“Well, now that you’re done terrorizing my guests,” you giggle and gesture to the booth seat. “Ready for me to spoil you?”

“Heh, think that’s the other way ‘round, sweetheart.” Toji chuckles as he takes off his coat and sits down. He notes you staring at his bulky arms for a quick second. You were fast, but not fast enough for him to catch you. “I’m sure y’re ready to drain my wallet.”

You walk between him and the stage behind you, bewitching him with the twinge of your lips as you bring your face closer. “Would that be a bad thing?”

Toji’s hand goes to your cheek, “A pretty lil’ angel like you? I’d let you rob every cent of me.”

The jest does its job of making you laugh before you withdraw your face from his hold. “You know the rules.” 

The older man rolls his eyes but obliges, putting his hands behind his head and shifting comfortably. “I know, I know. No touchy.”

“No touchy.” You repeat, knowing he’s on the same page while you warm yourself up. 

You start with the usual — he likes it. You turn and spread your legs, bending down slowly before him so he can get a perfect view of your ass and underwear. And you take your time getting up, using your hands to entice him by grazing them around your asscheeks. Next, you face him, eyes locked with his emerald ones. Taking one foot after the other, you bend again and place your hands on his thighs, rubbing them while maintaining eye contact. “How was work? Tough as usual?” 

Now, while you have rules of your own, he also has things he can’t share — like the fact that his primary source of income comes from killing people. It’s why he’s always sure to clean himself up before coming here, spending his hard-earned cash to see you. But he humors you with tiny hints, “Mmm, as usual. Broken nose here, blood on knuckles there.” 

You straighten up, placing a heeled foot on his right thigh. “My my, not that you got hurt, right?” 

“Not a single scratch.”

You lift a brow before bringing your leg down to swiftly sit on his lap, snaking your hands up from his abdomen and chest to his strong shoulders. “You’re quite the dangerous one.”

“Sure,” He chortles smugly, “but y’re one to talk.”

You play along, forming a small “o” with your lips to display faux surprise. All the while bouncing on his lap. “Me? Dangerous?” 

“Oh yeah, sweetie.” His eyes never leave your face, even when you sway to the side to measure his attention. “Y’re quite the little minx yourself.” 

Your eyes narrow, inching your face closer, your noses practically touching. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Slow grinds to his groin, it makes him swallow. You close your eyes, lips drawing in with a whisper. “Is it?”

Toji closes his eyes as well, falling for your sensual spell. “Not at all…” But nothing comes of it, only a string of giggles as you remove your face from his, poking the tip of his nose with your finger to signal with awake before fully withdrawing your figure from him. He grins, shaking his head. “Fuckin’ tease.”

“I don’t see you complaining, sir.” You throw the title at him with a playful smirk, batting an eye before turning around with your back facing him. You gently sit on his lap and transition your services to that of a lap dance. 

With an arched back, you roll your hips and ride on his lap, your butt rubbing on his jean-clad thighs to create heated friction. And Toji’s eyes examine your figure, from the highlighted skin of your back to the sway of your hips. The view of your butt rubbing on him gets him going, trying to fight the urge to just fuck the rules and grab your ass to grind on himself. Every rasp to his groin tests him to breathe steadily. 

But then, you just had to look at him over your shoulder with that cute, complacent leer. “How ya feelin’ there, big guy? Dangerous enough for you yet?”

Yup, fuck it. Rules be damned, Toji grabs for your ass and brings it down flat on his groin. The action takes you aback – unconditionally out of the accustomed routine. Before you can question him, Toji’s scarred lips are already at your ear. “You tell me, princess. Teasin’ me like that is just askin’ for it.”

You hold back a whimper when he comes to your neck, biting your lips when his lips meet your skin. “Mmmm…whatever happened to no touchy? You could get into trouble—“

“Aww, are ya worrying f’r me?” He snickers to your ear again, listening to you gasp at the buck of his hips to your ass. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, just keep dancin’ f’r me, ‘kay? I’ll take care of you…”

Toji bites the helix of your ear, rolling his hips to hump you. With a shaky moan, you grind on him to match his cadence. You’re nervous; this is against the policy: guests are not supposed to touch the entertainers. And yet, now, with Toji’s firm hands holding onto you and him whispering to your ear, it somehow feels different — a lot more hedonistic. 

You decide to play along, throwing your head back to his shoulder to rest, which gives him more access to kiss your exposed skin. His lips peck down your neck, and quivering wails seep from your lips when he mischievously nibbles on it. Too distracted to detect a hand snake down to your covered chasm. 

Now would be the right time to say things are going too far. You bring a hand on top of his, a silent warning for him. But he chooses to ignore it, creeping the other hand under the hem of your top. “Relax, baby. Just focus on danicin’, yeah?” 

This was so different, having a guest take the rails — no, having Toji take control of you. And you don’t dislike it; far from it, actually. If anything, it’s oddly exciting — letting the older man please you as you service him. It’s new and dangerous, especially in your workplace. But, oh my God, you don’t want it to stop.

You wrap your arms around his neck while he puts his back to the booth, using this to change into a different move. With your torso lifted and using your legs to maintain balance, you move your abdomen up and down. While you’re ghosting his groin with wave-like motions, Toji uses his fingers to play with your body. His left middle and forefinger rubs on your cover folds, roughly pressing down on where your clitoris is. A choked sob leaves puffy lips, even when his right hand is in your bra to grope your breast, his thumb swiping on your nipple to harden. 

“Mmmph! Ahhaaa, Toji…”

“Yeah, just like that,” he reassures you. Another tweak to your nipple has you bite your lips with a hum. “Just like that—“

“Am I interrupting something?” 

It took you mere milliseconds to recognize the new voice that enters your space, abruptly interrupting your session with purpose. You’re off of Toji just like that, hurriedly fixing yourself in the presence of your manager. “H–Hello, Mei Mei.”

“Hello there, Y/n.” She says it sweetly, but her words carry a stern connotation. The pale-blue-haired woman has her hair up in a braided ponytail while wearing a simple black split-thigh cami dress with mesh sleeves, and her gold earrings and red lipstick contrast with her pale skin. “Ah, I expected to see you here, too, Mr. Fushiguro.”

Toji greets the women, standing up at his own pace. “It is a Friday, Lady Mei.”

She smiled at the use of her business name; it was appropriate for what she was about to say. “Indeed it is. I decided to come down to check on the place and see how the life of the party was going. And all my guests seemed to be having quite a good time…Minus this one guy, who told me about the ‘scary fucker with a scar on his lip’ who lifted him like a doll and scared him and his buddies to a different table.” 

Toji rubs the back of his neck, chortling with a smug grin. “Hmm, the guy must be some dick.”

“Must be...Now listen, Fushiguro, I know how much of a valuable customer you are, throwing good money at my girls — my girl.” Mei Mei walks to you and places her cold hands on your shoulders. “I’d find it hard to have you not come here anymore for not keeping your hands to yourself. On my customers and my entertainers.”

“That I understand, my Lady,” he sighs at your manager’s lecture and crosses his arms. “But you know how I roll. I just come here to see your girls—“ He stops to shift his gaze on you. “Your sweet girl.”

“And I see you care about them quite a lot, your hand up their bra and your lips on their skin.” 

He shrugs it off. “I’m guilty.”

Mei Mei walks up to the older guest, her light violet eyes locked with his dark jade orbs. “Fushiguro, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid my rules apply to everybody. No touching the dancers. This is a strip club, not a brothel.” 

“Yes, Mei,” He grasps every word thrown at him, his eyes not leaving her feline ones. “It’s just a shame that I’m willin’ to pay whatever to have Y/n privately for one night in those lil’ VIP rooms upstairs.” 

A silver brow is quirked. “Are you trying to throw more money at my face to change the rules for your own convenience?”

“I’m trying to talk business, from one loyal customer to a good businesswoman.” He says nonchalantly, pointing to you with his chin. “That is if they’re up for it.” Now, why did he have to single you out like that? Because your manager turns to you with a patient look, gauging where you stand in this situation. 

It’s a tricky thing to answer: do you want to have sex with your guest that made you feel good minutes ago? This job is supposed to be an easy one, coming here to dance and swing your ass off til the morning sun for good money. Now, on the one night when things get a little too heated – with your favorite customer, mind you – you’re in a conflict. And you have to thank God you didn’t kiss him on the lips! 

However, it’s not like you don’t trust Toji; it’s the opposite. Sure, he can be a cocky bastard; there’s been instances where he’s touched you, but never like tonight. And yet, you didn’t find any danger in it. You were relaxed atop of him, leaning more into his touches. So, the thought that more could come from it is new. Chilling, but thrilling.

Your manager can see the inner turmoil through your face, so she answers in your stead, “Give it some thought for tomorrow, Y/n. And you,” Mei Mei turns back to the man guilty of this predicament. “Learn to behave yourself ’til then.” 

“I will, Lady Mei,” Toji sneers, grabbing for his coat to put on and taking a few bands to give to you. “And I’ll be seein’ you tomorrow, baby.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – divideres from @/cafekitsune.

[princessbrunette]

⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … TASTE ♡

track one of the short n’sweet series. pairing: bunny!reader x puppy!reader — based loosely off the song taste by sabrina carpenter. disclaimer: this story is based in a separate universe to the usual pogue!puppy / bunny!reader universe! enjoy ໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა

sometimes, relationships just don’t work out.

it wasn’t totally surprising — and looking back on it, to pup — it seemed as though it were doomed from the start. they were from totally different worlds, rafe being a kook and pup being a pogue and at first, truly she found it kind of romantic. the whole montagues versus capulet type of vibe that made her only wanna pin herself harder to rafe cameron’s side.

what made her love him was ultimately their downfall. he was downright mean most days, from the way he’d tug her about to the way he’d shake her head anytime she did anything he deemed too pogue-ish. rafe cameron is one of those few men that are so gorgeous that they could get away with murder, quite literally — so it wasn’t to anyone’s surprise that she put up with him for so long. that cruelty that she allowed was a reflection of how she truly felt about herself on the inside. undeserving of respect. each time he’d fuck her into the mattress with her face planted into a pillow, creaming uncontrollably around his base — she’d be revelling in the physical affection no matter how rough and violating it came across— even more so when he’d hold her at the end of it. always short lived, always fleeting, always made her feel better.

she’d escaped that relationship to learn how to love herself. with experience now under her belt gained from the kook himself, she was free to navigate the world and search for someone that just might touch her with a gentle hand. gone were the days she craved a strike to the cheek or blunt fingernails gripping into her ass. softness was what she needed, and by god she’d find it.

she didn’t actually think she’d care to think about him much more down the line a few months later— he was merely a thing of the past and honestly puppy was doing a lot better because of it. but unsurprisingly, old feelings were surely drug up when the kook boy who she forgot to unfollow all but jumpscared her on her instagram feed. not his usual self worshipping post of him on a yacht, no— it was her old rafe, with a girl on his arm. clinging to him just like pup did.

the girl was tagged, and puppy didn’t hesitate to press. it was just curiosity, she told herself as she scrolled down the sea of pink feed this mystery girl had created— a couple of pictures with rafe already posted. she was jaw dropping, a kook no doubt from the looks of her bedroom in the background of her mirror selfies. a prom queen, as titled in one of her posts with a tiara from a good few years ago at the bottom of her feed and an ex beauty pageant baby judging by the throwback thursday pinned in her highlights. there was this gentle yet pampered and spoiled energy around her like the world fell at her feet. a fluffed up, well fed bunny rabbit in a hutch of gold.

pup started to see bunny around more and more since finding her instagram. the pogue girl would find herself ever so slightly ducking out of vision upon spotting the two of them loading up onto rafes boat as she sailed past. her skin seemed to glow in the sunlight and pup wondered if rafe was the one to massage the sunscreen oil into her skin, taking extra time to massage it into the plush skin of her ass, even smirking when she squealed and told him to watch his hands in public. as they stand at the pier, rafe has a gentle hand on her lower back, fingers tucked ever so slightly into the waistband of her bikini. he looks… soft, and non threatening. touching her like she was made of glass, touching her gentler than he ever touched puppy.

puppy’s heart all but stopped in her chest when she served bunny at the checkout of the store she worked in. she supposed rafe couldn’t have been far, sending bunny in alone as to not have an awkward run in with her knowing she worked there. a part of pup wanted bun to be rude. she was a kook after all — and aren’t exes supposed to hate the new girl? of course, she was nothing of the type. sweet and patient, with good eye contact and a perfect smile. it should have made pup’s blood run cold. should have.

instead, pup buried herself in the weird guilt that sat on her chest when she’d find herself typing bunny’s instagram handle into the search bar and sliding a hand down her shorts a few nights later, in need of quick relief. she told herself it was purely physical, a strange bodily reaction to jealousy and comparison — and the fact that bun had her tits hanging out her top in every picture, and pup could distinctly remember the way her ass cheeks jiggled as they hung beneath her short hemline when she exit the store she works at. nothing more than a quick, weird orgasm.

bunny had heard whisperings of the girl rafe was with before she arrived in kildare. a pogue, not that it mattered but she was simply surprised. by the way rafe spoke so ill of those from the other side of the island, bun couldn’t help but wonder what that relationship looked like, why it ended, how. she tried to be subtle in asking around of course, purely out of curiosity — but words to quell a non existent insecurity were thrown vaguely her way instead, quick to put down the other woman. “you’re so much better with rafe. it just makes sense, you know? that girl before you… sheesh, i don’t know. pretty girl, but a real scruffball. i don’t know what rafe was thinking.”

the same thing carried through when she even tried to ask rafe, who simply scoffed and shrugged her off with a “why? who— who cares about that bitch.” before continuing on with his heavy petting, moving in to kiss her jaw. bunny turned her head away in thought.

bun’s heart rate picked up a bunch when they started to kiss. she must’ve been a sick perv for feeling curious, because each time rafes tongue passed over hers she could only imagine how many times the same wet muscle would glide through the pretty pogues folds to land up near her clit. she wondered if he ever treat her that well. she wondered if you deserved it.

when puppy heard that rafe had been speaking ill of her at the country club once more, she didn’t think — just immediately marched to tanny hill to confront him. perhaps it was unwise of her to think rafe cameron could be mature enough to handle a breakup without talking down on her — but regardless, she had done too much healing and growing to let things slide.

with blood pumping in her ears and anger thrumming in her gut she marched right into the open doors of tanny hill, figuring he’d be home. but after calling his name a good few times, demanding his presence in the foyer — she decided to go looking for him herself, mary-jane converse plodding up the stairs in the direction of his bedroom. a chill settles over her skin at not only the eerie silence, but the fact it had been a long time since she’d taken this oddly familiar journey.

swinging open the doors, pup is met with a gut wrenching sight. it wasn’t him stood before her, but bunny— and she’s clad in a stupid little pink silk robe.

“oh i’m not — i was coming to find rafe because— he’s — he is being an asshole.”

bunny looks nothing close to surprised. infact, she moves slow— blinking her dolly eyelashes as she takes it all in. pup was the last person she’d expected to see, and yet it was not unwelcomed. she wondered why she wasn’t shocked regarding an acquaintance barging angrily into the house. why she’d felt her presence from a block away.

“i know.” she breathes, and it’s all she says.

twenty seven minutes later, and pup finds herself on her back in rafe cameron’s bed once more— months after she told herself it was the last time. though it wasn’t rafe that had her throwing her head back and digging her pastel-painted nails into the sheets, it was the glittering cloud of woman between her thighs, lapping up each drop of juice that seeps from the peak.

bunny is hungry— she’d never eaten a girl out before but god does she know what she likes, twirling her tongue like a tiny ballet dancer in circles around pups poor swollen clit. the pogue is beside herself, feet pressed flat to the bed so she could raise her hips and hump against the girls mouth. she’s sure she’d had a dream like this once that she tried to erase from her mind.

knocked back by the force of puppy’s humps, bun pulls back to look at the girl all bleary eyed and fucked out, lips glossy despite her makeup being wiped off a while ago from their frantic, confused and desperate kisses.

“s’it your first time? rafe never…” she whispers, like saying his name made it more likely they’d get caught.

pup shakes her head, broken out of her trance with a wobbling bottom lip. “n—no. never. he said— said i wasn’t — he just wouldn’t—”

“oh gosh.” bunny sighs in disappointment. “literally can’t imagine why not.” her manicured fingers spread pups puffy folds, and she whimpers in arousal as she watches the pogues pretty clit twitching in desperation to be sucked on again. “i jus’ dont know what it is…” her hot breath kisses pups clit anyways. “but ever since i knew who you were… jus’ wanted to know what it was like…” she smears her lips around the area pup needed her the most, if there was any lipgloss left over it would have transferred to her skin. “to taste you.”

pup had to say, the feeling was mutual.

[petew21-blog]

Family swap: Boys just wanna have fun!

My name is Robert Philip Cornell. I come from a very succesful family of lawyers. And in order to honor my family's legacy I continued in this tradition. Therefore I hope that one of my sons, preferably both, will continue this path as well. Unfortunately my twins, Richard and Philip, are very much like me and their mother. Inteligent, very good looking and thanks to our wealth, powerful. And they know how to use that. But sometimes I wonder if they should appreciate our legacy more than they do now. If you asked me right now and I answered that they were high, drunk or fucking someone, I'd definitely hit atleast one of the three if not all of them.

I was in Johannesburg to help close a company I represent a great deal. After signing we ended having a few coctails and then I left the group to my hotel room. Suddenly a WhatsApp message came to my mobile phone. From my wife Anna

"I'm sorry for interupting your meeting. Call me asap when you're free. It's the boys"

Oh god. What now? I dialed my wife's phone number

Anna:"Hey love. How was the meeting?"

Robert:"Hi, all went well. What's happening?"

Anna:"Philip took the boat. Richard covered him and as soon as the boat left the harbour he followed him. They just wanted to trick me. So now they're once again having a party on the sea, absolutely high as always. I just hope the cost guard will be understanding once again"

Robert:"Honey. I know you mean well with them, but I think it's time"

Anna:"Robert no. You can't be serious. Don't you remember what happened with your father and you when you two did this? Your father wanted to 'teach you a lesson', then you spent a shit ton of money and almost destroyed his reputation."

Robert:"And look where it got me. I know that the boys will understand eventually"

Anna:"So what are you gonna do? It wouldn't be fair to swap only one of them and there isn't another male figure left in your family to swap them with"

Robert:"I wasn't thinking of a male figure to be honest"

Anna:"Are you crazy? One of my sons in my FEMALE body? Robert, I don't think I'm comfortable with that. I can't imagine one of them treating my body decently"

Robert:"I am not happy with one of them ruining my image too or even treating my and yours body, but I believe that they will learn the lesson soon enough. Besides, wouldn't you wanna take those two teen hormonal bodies for a spin?"

Anna:"You're a tease Robert... when?"

Robert:"How about right now? I am in a hotel room. So let's say, Richard can try to get out of South Africa back home and Philip now can try to figure out and stress alone in your body on an island, how to get their original bodies back"

Anna:"Robert... you're evil. Then I am looking forward to see you in a minute"

Robert:"See you soon, my love"

A few minutes passed since Robert wanted to write down some instructions and so did Anna

Richard and Philip were on a yacht, blasting music and approaching the beach of the city they were headed to. Suddenly a text message sound. Philip opened the message first. It said:"Since you boys want to be on your own and enjoy everything life has to offer, we give you our bodies to take care of and with them the duties of maintaining our family image. Yes, you now have to work, yes you have to provide for the family. And yes, one of you will be a female. Treat our bodies with respect and we will do the same."

Philip:"Dude is dad tripping? What the hell is that?"

Richard:"I think I'm too high for this, bro"

A very nauseating feeling that didn't originate from the waves of the sea sweat through the two teens. Both trying hard not to vomit

Richard's P.O.V.

The feeling passed. There was a bright artificial light around him and he felt water coming down his chest. Wait what? How did he get in the shower? Was he that high that he didn't even remember the boat landing, the party or anything?

Richard looked down on his chest

"What the fuck?!?" a deep voice echoed the walls of the shower

"Philip? Did you bleach my chest hair? They're grey you fucker. And what the hell happened to my voice? I sound like dad."

I wasn't paying much attention to myself and what was actually happening. I just took a towel, exitted the shower and tried to find out where the hell I was. I looked around and couldn't find much. It was a pretty normal hotel room, on the bed I saw my fathers briefcase and his clothes. There was a note on the bed:"Wanted to hand you everything clean and ready. BEHAVE and don't ruin my body! Love, dad"

"What the actual fuck is this?"

The reality was starting to him the. The text message, the note, the chest hair. I was scared to look in the mirror, but there was no other way of knowing

"You son of a bitch!" he really did it. My new reflection wasn't the one I was used to, but seemed like my much older one and a but distorted along with a beard. My father is a very handsome man, I have to give him that. But it is very different from the point of view of his son. Your parents aren't suppose to be hot, they're disgusting to you no matter how they look. Yet here I was standing, watching my father's muscular, grey-haired torso. His veins on his biceps. His piercing eyes that I knew very precisely, cause these ones were the ones that raised me. The ones that always seemed the most disappointed.

But now. I was behind these eyes. And my father did this to me on purpose. He wanted to give me another life lesson. "You know what dad? Fuck you!"

I dropped the towel I put around my waist before to reveal a hairy flacid dick. Ew, I never thought I would see my father's dick from this point of view. We'll here we are. But it's not bad to be honest. Might give it a little trim and the chicks would dig it.

I took a second before doing that to really think hard. I had to look away from the mirror causing watching my father jerk off wasn't something I would get off to daily. But watching this nice cock get hard in my hands as I was palying with these hairy balls and the foreskin, that was something. Looking down I was really proud. I am still muscular, I look amazing and I got a nice dick. Doesn't matter what dad does to me. I'll enjoy this punishment.

I grabbed my new dick hard. I squeezed it until I felt pain. And then I started jerking it. I spit in my hand and played with the head, almost instantly. I stopped and resumed jerking. I was hairy everywhere. I wasn't used to that. I wasn't even thinking about this body as my father's anymore.

My right hand was curious enough to get into the jungle between my buttcheeks. And what a jungle it is. I spit into that hand as well.

"Sorry, daddy. Boys just wanna have fun"

I pushed one finger inside. I could that this body has never experinced that. I'll enjoy that even more. I pushed in another finger and then kept on pushing until I couldn't. I felt my new prostate. So sensitive! I pushed and pulled. Almost forgetting to jerk off at the same time. I got in sync and could only scream in pleasure. I was so close. I could feel the sensation building up. If I were in my body I would stop to take care of the mess in time. But I didn't care. I let it pour outside off me. The cum got into my chest hair and on my abs. I let out a sight of relief

Collapsed on the bed, I noticed dad's phone lighting up. Mom was calling. Wait, is it really mom or is Philip also swapped? I gotta know. I took the phone to my ear and answered

Philip:"Those fuckers. What are we gonna do about them?"

Richard:"I don't know about you, but I just had the best orgasm in my life"

Philip:"You're so disgusting Rich, that's our fathers body, you know that?"

Richard:"Yeah, but that didn't stop me. And I don't think you should stop either. The women say that their orgasm is so much more intense, so now you'll know"

Philip:"I don't know if I am ok with that. It's our mother's pussy, bro"

Richard:"Yeah and? I just fingered our father ass. Suck it up big boy. I'll send you a location. I'll take a plane and we'll meet there?"

Philip:"You're nasty bro. See you there I guess. Wait, wait do you know what is this tiny weird thing sticking out at the top of the vagina?"

I packed my fahter's things and set off to meet my bro, or wife?. I went to the local mall and slightly altered my visage. Do you think they'll let me inside of the plane like this? Oh and one tiny request I gotta send to our butler

Robert and Anna's P.O.V.

Anna:"I must admit, Robert, I haven't felt so full off energy in ages!"

Robert:"That might be the drugs the boys took, haha"

Anna:"No, seriously. The boys got great bodies, but our bodies aren't as much vital as these ones. We have to go do something!"

Robert:"How about we continue in the plans that the boys had? Might be fun"

We arrived to an empty beach with no one in sight.

Robert:"Did you check the coordinates?"

Anna:"Sorry, dear but I am still very high. I am still surprised we didn't crash the boat"

Robert:"Haha. It's so funny to see Philip call me honey. Haha, jesus. I think I am still also high"

Anna:"Wanna maybe lie down here and just... chill. Or how do the kids these days call it?"

Robert:"Haha. 'Kids these days'. Philip looks like a nostalgic senior now"

Anna in Philip's body laughed. "Yeah and what are you? A teen king who knows all the trends?" she ran up to him and pushed him on the ground

Both boys's bodies still very high. They very playfully fighting in the sand. Rolling around, like two teenage boys would

Suddenly Anna planted Robert a kiss. Robert was shocked and stared at her not returning it

Anna:"I still see you as you. I don't care what bodies we're in. Even if we were worms I'd ¹still love you"

Robert:"Anna, I... don't think I can do this"

Anna grabbed Robert's new hard dick and looked back at him:"Then don't think at all. Just love me"

Anna kissed him again and this time Robert kissed back. He felt the love his wife had for him and kissed the another boys body back.

The two identical boys now with their hands all over their bodies. Exploring each other as if it were a mirror. A mirror that they made out. A mirror that they were caressing and pressing their hard dick against.

Ther dicks were out. Anna in Philip's body just laughed as she felt her husband sucking her dick:"I understand why you always beg me. This is so goood. Keep going!"

Robert didn't believe what he was doing, but he couldn't really keep thinking that or else he would go mad. Sucking his son's dick was definitely not on his bucket list.

Robert got into a 69 position. Twins giving each other the same pleasure. What a sight for horny eyes.

They didn't talk. They were mouthful, so there was no room for talking. Each gagging on each others dick. Giving pleasure to the other one. Thursting and enjoying the same feeling from the other. They were close very close. And they both came almost at the same time. They got some perfecting to do.

They were in each other's arms, naked on the beach sand. Enjoying the view of the other one. Just smiling at each other.

And just then, the family Butler arrived with security to the beach.

Nigel:"Good afternoon gentlemen. I have strickt orders from your parents to transport you back to your house and to enroll you back into high school. You have your senior year to finish and you have to pass all your exams. Your parents also gave a strict rule of no alcohol, no drugs and no visits in your home. Shall we leave?"

Robert to Anna:"Oh that's what I forgot. Fuck, Richard is good. This is gonna be very good for him. I think he'll be the next one to continue."

Anna:"Did you just hear what Nigel said, honey?"

Robert:"All I heard was that I will spend a lot off tíme together with the love of my life. I don't care how painful it will be. We get to be young again and together. And don't forget that the boys share bedroom, honey." I saw Anna blushing and smile as she opened the car door.

Richard a Philip's P.O.V.

Philip:"Are you sure we're safe like this?"

Richard:"Yeah, bro. They're gonna have to go to high school and all. Nigel already has them at home. We get to live no without nagging"

Philip:"Yeah, so amazing to have no nagging, but If you haven't noticed I am the one with mums pussy."

Richard:"And I bet it's hungry for dick"

Philip:"Why on earth didn't they swap you into mum instead of me. I'm not even bi. I won't enjoy the sex as much as you will"

Richard;"Ok, I promile that tonight I'll show you that you're now definitely on the spectrum and that I now have a magnificent dick that will make you very happy"

Philip:"Fine. So, we gonna party now or what?"

Richard:"The festival hasn't even started yet and you wanna party already. I think we're now the oldest people here dude."

Philip:"Well then let's show them how older people party!"

An inbox story that I played with a tiny bit :D

Could you write a story about parents swapping bodies with their twin kids since they don’t behave. Now the parents in the boys body must go to school and enjoy their youth while the boys in their parents bodies have to give to work and be responsible.

If you haven't seen your story yet, don't worry I got a lot of them in the inbox, some of them are partially written in the drafts and are now just waiting for me to have more time and be horny enough to finish them 😈

[fellthemarvelous]

Do you ever really think about what happened in The Resurrectionists?

Aziraphale spent that entire time trying to save Elspeth's soul from being damned to Hell.

Every questionable choice he made was done so because he was trying to help Elspeth and also trying to find new ways to decrease human suffering.

He was working really fucking hard to do his job, but he made mistakes along the way because he is constantly struggling with the knowledge that the rules become a lot more convoluted as life becomes more complicated.

Digging up bodies is wrong, but Elspeth was poor and acting in desperation to take care of herself and Wee Morag so they wouldn't have to continue living on the streets.

He is the one who encouraged her to dig up another body because he realized that Mister Dalrymple was trying to help teach those learning to become doctors so they could do better to decrease human suffering when it was their turn to help others.

He wasn't able to save Wee Morag after she was shot by a grave gun, and watched in dismay as Elspeth sold her body to Mister Dalrymple so she could get off the streets.

And when that didn't work the way she'd hoped, she decided that her life meant nothing anymore and decided she was better off dead.

Aziraphale had been spending that entire minisode trying to save Elspeth's soul from Hell, but he ultimately realizes that he made things worse even though he was trying so hard to do the right thing.

Heaven didn't care that he failed. Heaven has already said "we're the good guys, we're just not doing anything to stop the bad guys". Aziraphale was doing the job given to him by God. He made a mistake, but he thought he was doing the right thing because he cares about human souls. He still wants to protect humanity from Hell. That's literally his job.

Crowley saw someone digging up a body in the graveyard and immediately realized he didn't need to do anything.

Instead he watches.

He listens to Elspeth and finds it easier to sympathize with her plight because he's in the same boat in many ways. It doesn't matter what he does because he won't be able to climb his way out of Hell.

He listens to Aziraphale and he challenges the angel when he disagrees with some of the things he's saying.

He doesn't interfere with Elspeth or Aziraphale though.

The discussion that he and Aziraphale have with Mister Dalrymple teaches Crowley something just as much as it teaches Aziraphale.

Before he learns the reason that Mister Dalrymple cuts open dead bodies in the first place, he's cheering to the idea of more murder.

That tumor that Aziraphale hugs to his chest is just as much of a learning moment for Crowley. He hadn't considered why someone might have a good reason to cut up dead bodies, but Crowley and Aziraphale both love children and they both just learned that a child died with a tumor inside of him.

Crowley didn't realize anymore than Aziraphale did just how much danger Wee Morag and Elspeth were in from digging up bodies of rich people.

It was when Crowley saw that Elspeth was about to kill herself that he realized he could no longer sit back and do nothing.

As a demon, it should have been easier for Crowley to accept that Hell was winning another soul, but the truth is that the entire time Aziraphale was working so hard to save Elspeth's soul, Crowley was able to act as a spectator because she was already headed down the path towards Hell.

Crowley had just watched Aziraphale work so hard to save this human soul, this soul who had just lost the woman she loved who was wanting to end her own life so she could see Wee Morag again, and he realized he couldn't sit back and watch anymore. He knew Elspeth wouldn't see Wee Morag again if she killed herself because Hell cares just as little about how complicated human life is as Heaven does.

He used Aziraphale's money to bribe Elspeth into being properly good so she could go to Heaven. He saved her knowing that he was offering the win to Heaven just so she could see Wee Morag again.

It's important to remember that neither Heaven nor Hell give a single solitary fuck about humanity or the complications that arise as life becomes more problematic. Humanity exists within all shades of grey.

Heaven does nothing to stop Hell. Hell spends eternity torturing humans and other demons. Neither side is good. Neither side is ideal.

And in the end, Crowley did what he did because Aziraphale was doing the right thing by trying to save Elspeth's soul from eternal torment, something she doesn't deserve because she was simply trying to survive in a system that has always put poor people at a disadvantage. Aziraphale learned this too. He learned that there is no inherent virtue behind poverty.

To shades of grey.

[weathertheraine]

Pirate AU!! Thank you @stringofturtles for watching OFMD S1 with me and re-igniting my Pirate Emotions so I had the motivation to finish this. The first sketches have been sitting in my files for months so please forgive the fact that they look different skdfjh.

More fleshed out AU details under the cut !! :D

- The kids are a little older than canon - the third years in their early 20s - but the story still starts with the second and third years as an established crew who then pick up the first years and the coaches.

- Daichi as a Captain is of course very much like he is in canon. He works very hard to take care of his crew and takes on a huge responsibility for providing for them (as well as making sure they don’t die in idiotic ways). Suga is First Mate so it’s his job to make sure DAICHI is okay and not worrying himself to death. He also has a good handle on morale/the emotional state of the crew.

- Asahi is the first line of offence when dealing with other ships. He doesn’t like actually hurting people, but he’s good at breaking ranks and barrelling through defences to get hold of whatever Karasuno needs. He was ‘off the team’ and out of commission for a little while after he lost his hand (not seeing combat while he was in recovery, and needing to build up his courage again). Noya played a huge part in helping him back onto his feet, and has been kind of protective ever since.

- Noya’s job is to make sure the ship isn’t boarded, so he very rarely leaves it.

- Ennoshita and Kiyoko work together as navigators and managing the little money the crew has. Ennoshita is the only crew member in the beginning who can kind-of read (Kiyoko can only read a little), and they work a lot with maps and planning out journeys.

- Tanaka is great at intimidating opponents. His eyepatch is totally for show - he thinks it makes him look cooler and scarier. His parrot doesn’t often co-operate with him.

- Narita and Kinoshita take care of maintenance and supplies and making sure there isn’t gunpowder anywhere there shouldn’t be, as well as things like fraying rigging and rotting boards/canons secure and the like. Of course, things like that are everyone’s responsibility, but these two consider is theirs particularly. It’s thankless work but the boat would definitely have burned down by now if not for them.

- Enter the first years!

- Kageyama is a prodigy swordsman with a huge reputation as a lethal pirate, although most people who spread those rumours don’t realise he’s as young as he is. He was marooned by his previous crew for being a controlling Captain (who should never have been captain in the first place, having only his fighting talent as the real reason).

- Hinata recently ran away from home to “become a pirate” without much of an idea what that actually entailed, and ran into Kageyama without knowing his reputation. All he knew was that this guy was incredible fighter, and he demanded that he teach him to fight! He now won’t leave him alone.

- Tsukishima ran away as a very young child in an attempt to find Akiteru, whose sailing ship was attacked and lost at sea. He fell in with pirates along with Yamaguchi (who was picked up after surviving a shipwreck), and the pair ended up sticking together as they bounced from ship to ship, ready to run whenever it seemed like tensions were getting high. They (read: tsukki) are going to need to break this habit, if they’re going to be a real part of this new crew.

- Tsukishima and Yamaguchi can’t sleep if they’re not in the same hammock. Embarrassing. The reason Yamaguchi was so tiny as a little kid is that he didn’t get enough food. Tsukishima still tries to sneak him extra (and gets in trouble with Daichi).

- Tadashi ends up as a sharpshooter, one of the few kids who’s confident using a pistol

- Hinata and Kageyama spar together all the time. It’s GOING to end in a make-out the first time Hinata successfully beats him.

- Neither of them have noticed that Tanaka’s eyepatch switches sides.

- Yachi is picked up when the crew stop in a bar in her town. She’s a better-off girl, about to be talked into an politically advantageous marriage, and desperately wants to get out of her situation. “Running away with pirates” was admittedly pretty drastic, but anything sounds like a good idea when Hinata suggests it so sincerely!!

- Ukai is a washed up older pirate, without a crew. Takeda is a very unlucky literature teacher who just happened to be on a sea voyage. They both ended up taken as hostages by the same (meaner) pirate crew, who were then stolen by the Karasuno kids. Although, it’s kind of unclear at this point whether they’re actually prisoners… They’re being treated very nicely (especially Sensei) and are in danger of getting attached…