#that one would have to have if they were drinking in Dubai so as not to get picked up by the authorities.

[elsweetheart]

crystal champagne glasses — bodyguard!abby au

synopsis: when reader, the millionaires daughter can’t help but misbehave — Abby the no nonsense bodyguard is hired to live in the mansion.

♪ every man gets his wish — lana del rey (unreleased) ♪

cw: fem reader, mentions of money / money problems, overprotective parents, mentions of loss of a parent (not reader), daddy issues lol, sprinkle of mommy issues too, alcohol and drinking, tiny mention of being sick, reader working out mentions, brat tamer abby lol, size kink, reader cries and gets humiliated and angry a lot lol, degradation, masturbation, strap on sex, think that’s it?

an: i had so much fun writing this! this is the quickest i’ve ever written a fic, i think because i’ve been excited to write this one and planning it for ages! now, if you don’t like my writing please click off now. no one is forcing you to read my fics. to all the people who have been excited for this fic, ily and i hope you enjoy it! as always, minors + ageless blogs do not interact with this or any posts / fics of mine. you will be blocked! ♡

You weren’t a princess. You were not a princess. You wished you were, shit — maybe your parents would actually care about you. Unfortunately though, there was no royalty behind your name. Just two millionaire parents who would apparently rather be anywhere else but at home with you.

You had your own hobbies, friends, a life — back at home. But of course, if you had so much as wanted to leave the mansion to partake in such activities, such as socialising (God forbid!) you’d need an escort, a driver, secret security officers stalking you, creeping out all of your friends and more. After a while it just became… not worth it. So you stopped showing up, stopped hanging out with people — and understandably, your invite to meeting up with friends started to get supposedly lost in the post. Things get lonely fast.

Bitterness was hardly the word for it. You understood your circumstances and if you were anything it wasn’t ungrateful. Your father only wanted you to be safe, hence the dozens of hired body guards in and out (But you’ll get back to that in a moment, of course.) Your friends just assumed you didn’t wanna hang out anymore, hence the missed invites. You had only started misbehaving out of bitterne— no, not bitter. Pissed off. Rightfully.

You always felt dread when you saw the answer machine light up red with a new message from the only person who had the number — your father. Where on Earth could he be calling from this time? Perhaps lounging by the pool in Greece or dining at a rooftop garden in Dubai — experiencing the world and bravely taking a moment out of his incredibly busy day to drop you a patronising and vaguely threatening voicemail. Atleast he spoke to you, unlike your mother who’d much rather pretend you didn’t exist because, and you quote, the stress of your misbehaviour ‘gave her wrinkles.’ Your manicured finger hovered over the button before pressing down, huffing out your nose as you stared out at the morning fog over the grassy hills of your land.

‘Good morning darling, dad calling again. You keep missing my calls, which I assume is on purpose so I’m leaving you a message anyways. I’m currently in Amsterdam with your mother and I just caught wind of Malakai the bodyguard quitting ‘suddenly and abruptly’ according to one of the maids. I’ve told you once and I will tell you again, if you don’t stop harassing the guards and forcing them to quit you will be in serious trouble. I mean cut off completely, sent off to work in the city with no more than a shitty little apartment and no money. So, I have decided to give you one last chance. I’ve purchased a bodyguard to live in with you starting Sunday morning so you’re going to have to fend for yourself until then. I searched high and low for this one, apparently they specialise in poorly behaved brats like yourself — so I’m hoping if anything that will whip you into shape. You’ve been through five bodyguards this year and it’s February. I’m serious about my threats. Step a foot out of line and you’re done, your mother and I are deadly serious. I will be calling the new hire at the end of next week to check in on your behaviour. Do not let us down darling, you will regret it. Okay, that’s all. See you when I see you.’

You smile.

Oh, how sometimes things just worked out. A life of your own, with normality and struggle and freedom — no watchful eye breathing down your neck and no lack of purpose weighing down on you. Your father had presented you with the easiest task, piss off the new hire so that you’d be set free. A task you’d grown to perfect, having done so time and time again.

The crackle of wheels on the gravel path leading up to the mansion awakens you on the Sunday morning. You want to grumble, having gotten literally no sleep. You see, you were terribly afraid of the dark — and you couldn’t sleep without your guard having light the fire in the fireplace of your bedroom (The one use you found for the hired help.) You had no idea how to light it and didn’t trust yourself not to burn the house down — so you went without. Hence the awful nights sleep. Where were you? Yes, curious. Rudely awakened and curious.

Your short nightie does nothing to combat the cool morning chill as you get up from the bed, letting your bed covers slide off your body as you traipse over to your window. A black Range Rover, they’re all the same. All the same angry men that drive the same angry car, with the same angry build and the same angry face. You scoff at the memory of your fathers threat on the voice message, stating that this guard was to be anything you weren’t used to before. You knew it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

Except, you were caught off guard when the door opens. You watch a woman climb out the car, despite the vehicles spacious design she still seemed to unfold like she was inflatable as she climbed out — almost seeming too big for even a car like that. She was built, strong arms and chest, tree trunk thighs and veiny hands. You narrow your eyes at the black sunglasses perched on the bridge of her jagged nose, taking them off as she looks around with a serious expression. She was attractive, you’d admit — but in a way that made you cross. That stupid skin tight black t-shirt and black cargos and thick weighty belt around her waist told you everything you needed to know about her. The militant type, she was going to try and intimidate you with her seriousness. You smirk, seeing this as a challenge. She has no idea what she’s up against.

You rush down the spiral stairs at the sound of her lugging her bags inside. She flicks her braid over her shoulder to glance at you standing there analytically as she does so, biceps bulging as she lifts the heavy black cases into the centre of your foyer stood beneath the chandelier. She looked much too harsh for somewhere delicate like this.

“I take it you aren’t going to introduce yourself.” She speaks after a moment of sorting her bags, closing the front door to signify she was done bringing her things inside. You cling to the tall bannister, toeing the cold pristine marble floor, eyeing her and her things as if each bag had a bomb inside. She stands up to her full height, atleast breaching the 6ft margin and you squint, watching her stretch her arms to relieve herself from the weight of the bags. “Off to a great start already.” She retorts as you ignore her, her long legs stepping over a black duffle bag on the floor toward you.

“Why are your bags so heavy?” You ask quietly, less curious and more judgemental. Who did she think she was moving in here with all that stuff? She takes a long inhale, accenting the muscle in her chest as she places her hands on her hips. Her reply is calm and unbothered.

“I brought my weights with me, and lots of other things I need to stay in my condition. Do you have a name?” Her voice is velvety and more feminine than you expected. Your stomach gets hot and prickly at the sound.

“You know my name. I can bet anything my father told you everything about me infact.” You jut your chin up stubbornly. It’s her turn to analyse now, tilting her head a little to the side as she leans on her hip, eyeing you once over and then again.

“Yeah. Your dad was kind enough to tell me all about you and how you treated your past bodyguards. But when you first meet someone, you introduce yourself. So introduce yourself.” There is a slight bite to your tone and your eyes flutter a bit. You’re used to men being agitated with you, infact you thrive off it— but you’ve never had a woman guard before. Something about the harsh tone hurt you just that little more. Shit, maybe you just had mommy issues.

You mutter your name, eyes laser focused on her clinging to the last shred of dignity you had — but when she gives you a curt nod and an equally quiet ‘There you go’ it perishes in the wind like a dying leaf crumbling away for winter. She turns, looking around at her bags before reaching over for the smallest one. “I’m Abby. As you probably guessed, I’m your new bodyguard.” She walks over to you and holds out the bag. You look at her and then at the bag, and then back at her.

“What am I supposed to do with this, Abby?” You cross your arms with a raised brow.

“You’re gonna carry it to my new room for me. I’m a guest in your home.” She raises her eyebrows, waving the bag infront of you signally for you to take it.

You stare at her in disbelief, before laughing bitterly. “You’re right. You’re a guest in my home. So I’m not carrying shit.” You spin on your heel to stomp up the stairs, but she cuts you off by speaking calmly yet firmly.

“Then you can sleep in the dark.”

You turn back around slowly, wearing a frown that creases your brow. How did she know about that?

“I spoke to some previous guards of yours. Said you were terrified of the dark and needed a fire lit in your room every night. Y’wanna sleep in dark? Or you wanna help me carry my bags?”

You stare her down for a moment, weighing out your options. She’d already dominated the conversation by getting your name out of you so easily, and now she was winning again. However, you were exhausted just from one night of restlessly pacing with your light on — too afraid to turn it off and go to sleep. You needed your sleep. That being said, you scowl and snatch the bag from her hand, the leather of it slapping against your leg as you carry it up the spiral stairs.

“Atta girl.”

You clench your jaw.

The week begins, and as do your antics. Abby wasn’t easily wound up, but that only made you want to go ten times harder. She was a bodyguard, not a babysitter — but she was starting to feel like her duties were beginning to cross wires. She knew your game, knew you were aiming for something — she could see the determination in your eyes everytime you’d sass her back. So, she’d play you back. Not give into what you want.

Her first real duty came on a Wednesday when she was lounging in the living room watching some God awful 2000s police chase show, and in came you — tottering on little heels and a skirt so short and tight she could tell the colour of your thong beneath. Not that she was looking, of course.

She leant her arm on the back of the couch, eyes flitting over you as you rummage for the keys that you were sure had been left by the maid on the coffee table. “Going somewhere?” It comes out nearly as a scoff, smirk etched onto her face and it makes you roll your eyes.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Out with my friends. The ones that still talk to me.” You’re distracted, pulling your small handbag back up onto your shoulder when it slides off, free hand feeling around in a decorative bowl for the key set. Abby stares at you for a moment, which — okay, is a little indulgent. She wasn’t being a creep, she could just appreciate that you looked good. Before you could turn to throw a glare her way she was muttering an ‘alright’ and heaving her heavy, toned body up to stand and stretch.

You turn and look at her questioningly and she stops to return your gaze. “What? You think I’m just living here with you for fun? C’mon, if you wanna go let’s go.” She nods towards the door, but stops after a few steps when she hears you snicker.

“No thanks. I’m a big girl.”

She crosses her arms and the smirk that makes you wanna throw darts at her stupid face returns. “That right? You think daddy just hired me to hang out around the house, then?”

You stare at her, pursing your lips before exhaling through your nose wordlessly — walking towards the door in defeat. You just wanted to go out, it had been so long. You’re sure you could just ignore Abby.

She follows behind you, now swinging her car keys round her finger — so smug. “How were you planning on getting to the club? You live in the middle of nowhere.”

“Uber.”

It’s her turn to snicker, opening the front door for you and standing aside as you walk through. “Yeah. Okay. C’mon.”

Screw her. Because now, for some reason she was in your head.

Maybe you just had a few… weaknesses. You always liked your girls on the masc side, on the buff side — but that was a given. Who isn’t attracted to that, right? However, watching hot girls drive was something else, and Abby was being that something else. You know— hand on the back of your seat when she reverses, bicep bulging when she grips the wheel of her sleek car, the lights of the night time traffic illuminating the way her top lip curled upwards a little and bottom lip pouted. You felt a little relief, knowing it was one hundred percent the wine talking. The wine you’d probably drank a little too much of whilst you were getting ready, playing your music and singing along loudly just hoping it was annoying Abby (It wasn’t, she didn’t even hear.)

Ignoring her would start after the car journey you decided.

And you did, for the most part. Abby gave you your space, sitting a few seats away from your group whilst you had your fun — headache inducing squeals and brain numbing chatter over loud music and strong cocktails not quite interesting the blonde. She was driving, and working — so she couldn’t drink, just sat there all night bored out of her mind. She probably should have been monitoring how many drinks you’d had over the night, because soon you were stumbling off your seat to go and dance— and Abby’s hands were itching to pull your skirt down just a little, the hem climbing up to the swell where your thighs meet your ass. She sits back, just watching. She was here to protect you, not be your personal wardrobe malfunction manager — so that’s what she’d do. Sit back and protect.

God, did you always dance like this when you went out?

She felt her fist twitch on the table at the sight of your hips swirling, but she knew that was just a natural gay reaction. She should probably order you a glass of water, so you could sober up and tone down the sluttyness but she figured she’d let you have your fun for now— you may have been too far gone. Abby wished she was holding a beer or something whilst she stared across at the way you were grinding your ass into your friends crotch, the two of you giggling like idiots all hazy eyed from the liquor.

After a while you amble over to her, everything bouncing and spilling out but you clearly don’t give a fuck. Your guard is caught off guard when you come close, alcohol having decimated any concept of personal space as you lean over to speak to her where she’s sat, bent over with your hands splayed on her black jean clad thighs.

She tries to be subtle in the way she eyes you, her tongue peeping between her lips and eyes widening momentarily at the perfect shot of down your top. “I can’t hear you.” She yells over the music. You come closer and nearly topple onto her completely, Abby’s hands by nature resting on the back of your thighs as you now grip her shoulders. Briefly, she wonders if at a glance anyone thinks the two of you are a couple. She shakes it off ‘cos… you’re still a brat. Hot or not.

“I said, can I go to the bathroom or are you gonna follow me?” You pull back to make sure she’s seeing you attempt to pointedly raise an eyebrow at her, something you would have perfected usually if you were sober.

“Take a friend.” She nods to your most sober looking buddy and you shrug happily, pushing off her and grabbing your toilet partner and rushing off. She was kind of glad you were gonna be out of her sight for a moment, needing to cool off.

She wasn’t sure what happened after that. Abby was getting bored and tired, dropping the ball a little bit — and you must have been sneaking drinks from your friends when she wasn’t looking — because suddenly you were way too drunk, barely able to stand. Enough was enough when she watched you stumble over to the bar, heading to assumably get yourself another drink. Abby followed you, gently taking your arm and turning you around.

“Hey, no more. You’re blacked out.”

Your face screws up into this adorable little pout for a moment before the rage kicks in, brow creasing and fists clenching by your side.

“C’n dooo what I waant. Dompt tell meee what to do.” You thud her in the centre of her chest with your finger, slurring enough to the point where Abby was confident the bartender wouldn’t have served you anyway.

“No. Finish up, you need to go home.” She was stern, and as expected — this garnered the worst possible response, baring your teeth like a dog and digging your heels into the ground like you were about to pounce on her. You exploded into noise.

“Nnno! Fuck you you stupid securererty guard I can’t wait to get rid of youn’d be independent this is such buuullshi—” Your rampage was cut short by Abby sighing, squatting, and throwing you over her shoulder. Her free hand came up without thought, tugging your skirt down to not expose you to the world. You thrashed and yelled for a good ten seconds before giving in completely — by standers and your friends laughing as Abby marched you to the exit. You were asleep by the time she reached the car, and briefly woke up when she’d carried you to bed to demand her to light the fire place. The fear of the dark must have ran incredibly deep, interesting — she noted.

Abby thought that maybe you’d appreciate her cutting your drinks off and halting any further plans to embarrass yourself that night— but she came to learn that if she thought you were bad usually, you with a hangover was ten times worse. If waking up to the sounds of your loud upchuck wasn’t bad enough, you were a whiny, angry bitch relentlessly all day.

“I’m not your servant you know. Stop asking me to do things for you.” Abby walked in with a glass of water and Tylenol upon request, being met with a loud groan instead of a ‘thank you’.

“Do you have to fucking yell everything?” You complain, ironically — louder than her.

She was tired by the end of the day, beginning to wonder if the pay was enough to tolerate your brattiness. Abby had gained a reputation for dealing with difficult clients, perhaps diva-esque or ill-mannered, but often it wasn’t anything a stern talking to couldn’t fix, often intimidated by her height and build enough to shut them up after a few quips. You were effortlessly becoming one of, if not the most difficult and tiresome clients to crack, but she was determined. If Abby was anything, she wasn’t a quitter — which is why when your father called to check in on you, she told him you’d been good as gold, which earned her a glare from you when you’d overheard the whole thing on the way to the bathroom.

You were back to your regular level of shitty behaviour the next day, less whiny and more sarcastic and bitchy which she could tolerate. However, after a month had gone by Abby was finding the irritation harder and harder to control— especially since you had developed an ever so charming habit of putting on your headphones every single time Abby tried to tell you to do something or talk to you in general.

“Like I told you, I’m a bodyguard — not a babysitter. Stop leaving your—” She bounded into the room, stopping when she saw you look her in the eye and pull your headphones over your head, pressing play on your screen to start your music. Abby stares for a few seconds, taking a breath, telling herself to walk away. Be a bodyguard and nothing else. She ignores this, wound up— and moves to stand in front of you, clicking her fingers. Cheekily, you point to your headphones — mouthing a faux-apologetic ‘sorry!’. The blonde scoffs, wondering why she’s entertaining this in the first place and reaches up to yank the headphones off your head, but freezes at your sudden wide eyed yelp.

“Don’t touch me I’ll tell my dad and you’ll get fired!” It’s rambled out, fast and premeditated — like you’d thought of it already and had been waiting to put it to use. Abby glances down at your alight screen, noting the music as paused and wonders if you were ever playing music or was just doing this to bother her. She lowers her hand, because — well, she’s not an asshole — instead turning her palm upwards in gesture to hand them over.

“Headphones. Give them to me.”

“No.”

“Give them to me or I’m not lighting the fire in your room tonight.” She stares you down and you sulk, shoulders dropping and brows furrowing in devastation. Abby would have felt bad if you weren’t such a menace.

You stroppily yank the headphones off your head and hand them over, muttering profanities furiously under your breath as you turn away from her, sprawled on the couch. Your guard nods, disappearing to put them away before leaving you be — heading to the kitchen to make her afternoon smoothie. The sound of her chopping fruit sparked rage in you all over again at how at home she had made herself, and after a minute you were storming in again— bare feet slapping the cold tiles.

“Back for more?” Abby is calm now, content as she focuses on slicing into a banana.

“You can’t threaten me with my fears you know, that’s emotional and psychological abuse. You’re taking advantage of my fears to be in control like — like a coward. Trust me I studied psychology out of a book, I know my stuff.” You stand beside her ranting as she raises her eyebrows with a calm smile, nodding as she listens and finishes up chopping her fruit, beginning to load them into the— your blender.

“Oh? Smart girl then huh?” She teases and you huff, jutting your chin in the air confidently with an ‘mhm’ before hoisting yourself up onto the kitchen island counter, deciding to stick around for a while to pester her.

“Very. You could probably learn a thing or two from me.”

Abby twists her body half around in amusement, a mocking expression of being impressed adorning her attractive face. She closes the lid to the blender, keeping one hand on it as she speaks.

“‘That so? Go ahead, tell me what possibly I could learn from you, smart girl.”

Ignoring how ‘smart girl’ made you feel in your underwear, you only a manage a “Well first of all—” before she’s turned the blender on, the loud whirring masking any sound coming from you despite your attempts to yell over it for a few seconds. She nods teasingly, as if she was listening to what you were saying and you huff, giving up. You were usually a master in being annoying, but Abby was giving you a run for your money.

You hop back off the counter, muttering a ‘Big blonde stupid asshole.’ as you storm out the room and Abby lets go of the blend button, snickering to herself and yelling out a non committal ‘I heard that!’ after you.

The following day she had taken you to buy groceries after you’d complained that you’d wanted to do it yourself — Abby, following you around as you loaded up your cart, every so often remembering your duty to annoy her and hitting her with something along the lines of ‘I want my headphones back.’ which would be met with a disinterested ‘Tough luck.’ on her end. You couldn’t believe that she’d been living in your home for one month and you still hadn’t gotten under her skin. Perhaps that’s why the next day you’d let your guard down.

It was the first sunny day of March, the grassy hills in which the mansion sat on still harbouring that frosty bite to the air from winter — but pink blossoms had began to spring on the bushes and trees and the sky was blue, which instantly lifted your mood just that little bit.

You were curled by the large window that morning, still in your pyjamas and holding a mug beneath your chin, gazing out at the bright grass. When Abby had entered the room, she was surprised to hear you gently comment that “The weathers nice today.” — a rare sentence that wasn’t defying or insulting her. Abby looked over to you, noting your peaceful demeanour and deciding to carefully toe the line.

“Do you wanna… go outside today?” She suggested, something the two of them could possibly do together. She almost grimaced, waiting for you to curse her out like usual but instead you paused quietly for a few seconds before responding.

“I can introduce you to the horses.” With that, you hopped off the window seat and disappeared to get dressed. When you returned, your hair was in tidier condition and you wore a dress made for summer with only a thick knit cardigan over the top. She itched to tell you it was still way too cold to dress like that, but figured she didn’t wanna aggravate you before you’ve even made it out the door. Today was the day Abby would get through to you.

You were quieter than usual, assumably worn out and in higher spirits due to the sunshine. You’d received the horses as a gift on your sixteenth birthday — but due to the cold weather and outright depression you hardly rode them anymore, instead making sure they lived a healthy and luxurious life on your land and fed the best foods by their handler (mainly out of guilt.) Abby could tell you’d regret your outfit choice as the two of you walked along the pathway through the lush greenery outside, pulling your cardigan tighter around your body, head tilted as you watched the birds fly over the pond.

“What are your horses names?” She conversed lightly, stuffing her large hands into the pockets of her black bomber jacket.

“Cinnamon and blondie.” You answer quietly, before speaking up a few moments later. “Don’t judge the lack of creativity I was sixteen when I picked the names out.”

The pair of you reach the barn and she huffs a quiet chuckle out her nose, watching you pick up a brush as you approached the brown and blonde horses. “Hey, I think those names are perfectly fitting.”

She wasn’t sure why she wanted you to like her so badly all of a sudden. She partially thought it was because if you did you’d make her life and her job easier — but… no, it was more personal than that. You’d deprived her of seeing your pretty smile so much that she felt almost awestruck at the sight of your peaceful and joyful expression as you gently combed Cinnamons mane. She caught herself smiling as she watched.

The two of you talked. Like actually talked without hurling insults or rolling eyes. You sat on the hay, watching as she fed Blondie a carrot. Abby’s teeth were always so white and perfect, perfecting an already perfect smile. Perhaps you were in a good mood, because the thought of calling her perfect didn’t quite irritate you as much as it usually would.

“Have you even ridden a horse?” You’re still bashful about making regular conversation as you pluck at the hay from the bale you sit on.

“Nah.” She shucks off her jacket, the air in the barn balmier and muggier than the outside. It’s hard to not let your eyes flicker down to her strong arms, so you don’t deny yourself.

“Not even as a little girl?” You question and she chuckles a little.

“I didn’t have horse money.” There’s a pitch of longing behind her tone and you tilt your head, wondering about her upbringing. She senses your inquisition and glances up at you as she continues to stroke the horse. “I didn’t have much money for pretty much my whole life. It was actually why I got into the bodyguard industry. Good pay.” She shrugs one shoulder like it was nothing.

“Did you get to go to public school? Like in the city?” You lean forward with your elbows on your knees, chin balanced on your palms in intrigue. The way you said it sparked some amusement in her, ‘get to go to public school’. Like to you it was some sort of luxury.

“Yep. Got the bus everyday too.” Her eyebrow twitches up with a smirk, turning to walk towards you with her jacket in her hand. Whilst she expects you to pick up on her playful tone and perhaps roll your eyes, you continue to stare up at her in awe— an air of innocent curiosity around you that made her suddenly fight the urge to run a thumb over your cheek. She stood over you, placing her jacket by your side and you preened a little at how big she looked above you like that. Part of you felt mad at yourself for having developed a crush, knowing it was interfering with your plans — but you were touch starved. Really touch starved, so you allowed yourself a little yearning for your strict but not so strict bodyguard.

You clear your throat before speaking quietly. “You’re so lucky.”

At this, she scoffs, dropping down to sit beside you. Your skin felt a little warmer when her thigh pressed up next to yours.

“I wouldn’t say that. Would have traded lives with you in a heartbeat.”

You turn to her with a frown. “My life was boring. I didn’t get to do sneaky, crazy teenager things. I went to a small private school and had my small group of friends there and… we couldn’t do anything without dumb bodyguards riding my coattail. The only time we got privacy was in the girls bathroom, and even then if we took too long they’d come knocking.” You complain, pushing your shoe into the gravel.

“Oh, I see. So you didn’t get to be a bratty teenager so you’re making up for lost years now.” She spoke it with a smile, but assumes she took it too far as along came your infamous eye roll, shuffling away from her on the seat as the irritation snuck back in.

“I am not a brat.”

“And I’m not your bodyguard.” She challenges gently with a smile, nudging her knee against yours. You look at her with a stubborn pout and her smile doesn’t falter. “You’re not really a brat. I can bet you’re a sweet girl that just wants attention so you’re acting out.” Didn’t your father say she was supposed to be tough? Please. You say nothing. Your heart races in your chest but you’re too stubborn to say a word. Maybe you’d let your guard down too much. Roll your eyes again, that’ll do it.

After a moment you look away, not because you were still mad but more so because you were flustered. Sweet girl rung around your head like church bells.

“I know you wanna get rid of me.” She begins and you tense up a little. Way to ruin a nice morning.

“And?”

“I know why. You think you wanna be independent and get away from your parents. You have this… idea of living on your own in the city. Am I right?”

You’re prideful, facing away from her with your chin up. “You’re not wrong.”

She sighs out a little chuckle, shaking her head as she leans forward with her elbows resting on her thighs, head turned towards your profile. “You don’t want that life. Trust me. I’ve lived it and it’s hard.”

“Whats hard is having no freedom, no social life, being followed constantly because no one trusts you to make sensible adult decisions.” You snap at her, turning to look her in the eye.

“So you talk to your dad, try and see eye to eye. Not just… pack up and move out like you’re running away to the circus.” She reasons, like it’s just that simple. Her eyes dart across your face as she sees the rage build, infuriated by the assumption that your father was at all the type to negotiate.

“Theres no just talking to my father, Abby. This is it. This is my life unless I get out of here. I can’t live this way forever.” You raise your voice a little, frustrated at her lack of understanding. “I don’t know what your parents are like, but I’m sure you wouldn’t get it.”

She smiles in that way that people smile when they’re mad or upset, tilting her head down to look at her hands for a moment as she inhaled, shaking her head with a speechless chuckle when she exhaled. “I never knew my mom, and my dad died when I was sixteen. I don’t have the luxury of arguing with my dad like you do. Sorry.” She sarks and your face drops, which sparks a little guilt in that secretly soft heart of hers — because truthfully there was no way you could have known, and she could tell by your face you were immediately mortified. You stumble for words after a moment.

“Look. I can’t forgive my father for practically imprisoning me. We… we have a complicated relationship and I think we always will. He says he cares and then does nothing but ruin my life. But… he’s still my dad. No one should ever have to go through losing their father, especially not at that age. I’m… I’m sorry Abby. I can’t imagine what that’s like.” You speak quietly and she listens, an unreadable expression on her face as she does so. When you finish, her eyebrows flicker up ever so slightly.

“Huh.” She breathes, quietly.

“What?” You furrow your brows, sympathetic expression lingering.

“So you are capable of basic empathy. I had no idea.” She let’s a smile slip and your face drops into one of deadpan.

“Bye.” You go to stand up but she laughs and grips your arm, her strong but somewhat affectionate hand not allowing you to leave her side. You sigh with an irritated pout, facing away from her again. When her chuckles die down, she speaks again, her hand staying wrapped around the flesh of your arm.

“So what’s your plan then. You inevitably get me fired, you move into the city by yourself and then what. Where are you gonna work? You won’t be able to afford living in an apartment by yourself so who are you gonna live with?” She fires at you, realising she’s still gripping your arm and letting her fingers trail down a little before leaving your skin all together. You hate how it leaves goosebumps in her wake.

“I’ll use my family name to get me a job somewhere. As for roommates I’m not too sure, I suppose I’ll have to start looking online.” You smirk, glancing at her out the corner of your eye. “Perhaps I’ll just find a girlfriend first who will let me move in with her.”

The mention of a girlfriend makes heat prickle behind Abby’s ears. She had a sixth sense for these kind of things, most of the time able to tell when someone preferred the company of the same sex — mainly down to her own preferences, and she could tell almost immediately with you. However, it was always pleasurable to get the confirmation that she was infact, once again correct.

“Oh yeah? You think anyone else is gonna put up with that princess attitude but me? You better start working on your game.” She jests, and the mention of her tolerating your princess ways caused you to bite down a little on your bottom lip.

“What, you’re saying you’re not charmed by me?” You joke back for once, turning to face her to bat your eyelashes. She chuckles softly, eyes lingering on you for a moment too long before looking away and pushing herself up to stand by pressing her hands into her knees with a quiet grunt.

“Can’t say the insults and tantrums did it for me. Good luck to you though.” She allows a smirk to flit back onto her pouty lips before she thrusts a hand out, allowing you to take it so she could help you up, once again proving to you both that she was actually more than happy to tolerate that princess attitude she speaks of so poorly.

By the next day, your head is back in the game. All this talk of moving out set you straight, and whilst bonding with Abby in the barn certainly set you multiple steps back — you were back to your old self in no time, dead set on getting her to budge so that you could be free’d from your fathers watchful eye.

You eye your search bar on Google, sprawled on your front on your bed with your laptop open infront of you, having just typed ‘Roommates for sale backspace Roommates in the city friendly and not weird’. As you scrolled through the unhelpful results, your door opened — Abby standing in your doorway.

“Jesus do you ever fucking knock?” You curse, glaring up at where she stands in the doorway wearing her usual tight black tshirt and thick belted cargos and boots.

“Good to see you’re back to your usual self.” She sarks with a dramatic eye roll as she leans on her hip, refocusing (which took an extra second because you’re just wearing a little skirt and top today and lying on your front is making her think things.) “I’ve gotta go get my car serviced so I’m dropping it off at the garage thirty minutes away. You think you can survive an hour without me here?”

You’re not looking at her, continuing to scroll as you wave her off with just a distracted mumble causing her to shake her head and tsk followed by a chuckle as she pushes off her feet, disappearing down the hallway. “I won’t be too long. Stay out of trouble, smart girl.” She calls to you, before you eventually heard the sound of the front door shutting and then her car rumbling around the fountain infront of the entrance and out of the large iron gates. Finally, some peace and quiet.

However, after around thirty-five minutes, you had to admit you’d grown bored. You were home alone, and the room-mate search was coming to just about nothing so you had given up all together for the time being. You flop onto your back on the bed, huffing. Where you’d usually get up with the boredom and go to bother Abby until she argues back — you couldn’t. So, you figured you’d turn to the next best thing, listening to music whilst you do a light work out.

You didn’t like working out when Abby was home, because — as if she were a moth to a flame, she couldn’t help herself from interjecting and gym-rat-splaining everything you’re doing wrong and how to improve. The last time she walked in on you doing pilates, you nearly chucked a weight at her head because she started dishing out unwarranted advice. You knew she did it just to bother you, wearing that shit eating grin on her face when she’d lift a bicep and flex it, stating that it was ‘living proof that you should listen to me.’

You thought also that maybe a workout would help burn off some of the… frustration you woke up with. Perhaps it was the tension ridden barn conversation the two of you shared yesterday, a reminder of your starvation for touch, maybe you just had a load of tempting dreams that you weren’t remembering — but you woke up with your cunt aching and hungry to be filled. You figured this was the real reason behind your bad mood returning with such a vigour, and you couldn’t get yourself off, not wanting to give Abby the satisfaction of walking in (without knocking, no doubt) on you with your legs splayed out and fingers deep inside your wanting hole, probably accidentally moaning her name— or whatever. You couldn’t say the thought of doing so didn’t make things worse though.

When you rolled off the bed and onto your feet, you took a moment to collect yourself at the frustration of remembering that Abby still had your God-damn headphones somewhere, having stashed it away due to you using it as a prop to taunt her. You cursed her out, and then cursed yourself out for getting your beloved headphones confiscated before sighing. If Abby wanted to invade your privacy by not knocking, and taking away your personal items — you could invade her privacy by going into her room and searching for them. Perhaps you could even return them before she was back.

It seemed like a sound plan, so you padded down the hallway until you were met with the door to the guest bedroom where she had been residing. You push the door open, for some reason your stomach twisting in excitement at the small thrill of being sneaky— something you rarely got to experience. The room was clean and tidy, and smelt like her. You push further into the room, looking around and spotting a few of the black shiny duffel bags she’d brought along with her — the rest of her things assumably packed away into the closets. You kneel, unzipping the first.

Your hand sticks inside, rustling about only to be met with metal plated weights and an exercise mat. You huff, zipping it back up and trying the next one. You spot them instantly inside, but tsk when you struggle to pull them out — the headband portion of the listening device tangled with something else. You pull them both out, pulling them apart as you do so and gasp when you realise what you’re holding. A strap on. A harness with a dildo attached.

You drop it, nearly falling onto your back like a spider had just leapt out at you— your eyes widening. Placing your headphones aside slowly, you lift it again — observing it. Why on Earth did she have that with her? Your heart jumped slightly in jealousy, wondering if she was planning on bringing someone over and using it on them. Was she fucking someone, just a few doors down from you? In a moment of sick depravity and curiosity, you slowly bring the shaft beneath your nose— inhaling to smell if there were any… remnants of usage, or at best cleaning products to signify it had been used and cleaned. Your face feels hot in shame as you do so, and it just smells like new plastic. It looked new too. You pull it back, looking at it. It hadn’t been used at all.

“God, Abby.” You whisper as you turn it side to side, harness tickling your leg as you grip the girth of it. It was black and shiny like everything else she owned, roughly 7 inches with veins and thick— just as you expected from the broad bodyguard. There were balls attached too, and you run your fingertips over them gently, lightly pressing down to feel it’s texture. As you do so, translucent white liquid gathers at the tip of the dildo, a small trail of it running down the side of the shaft obscenely. You gasp lightly again as your cunt clenches hard without warning. A breeding strap, now you had only ever seen those in porn videos from your phone screen late at night with a hand down your pyjama shorts.

You’d been fucked with a strap before, of course. You’d had been allowed romantic relationships in the past, and your parents of all things were surprisingly cool with the gay thing. Of course, your father had to background check them first and practically set up play dates with their family (Undoubtably another wealthy family) However, the times you’d experienced with them were all short lived, fumbly and overall incompatible. It was clear that you and your past two partners were there purely to experience some sort of relief from their sexual frustration — which resulted in just rolling around the bed whilst your parents dined together downstairs, them gliding their smaller strap in your tight pussy as you clumsily rut against eachother. The experiences were somewhat fun and naive, but you never got to cum or experience real pleasure and satisfaction.

Oh but Abby, you could tell she had to have experience. She had been out there in the world, seasoned and a few years older than you — and when you look like that, with that kind of body, there was no way she wasn’t having girls in and out her apartment door like some kind of cock carousel.

You felt your wet folds pulsing with need to be touched, and you bit your lip — wondering how much time you had as it seemed to have majorly escaped you. The idea of fucking yourself with your bodyguards strap without her knowing had you wetter than you cared to admit from just your own daydreams in your bed, and you’d decided fuck it, consider it pay back for putting a dent in your plans.

You were squatted on the ground still, but now your skirt and panties were draped messily on the sleek wooden flooring by your side — excitedly holding the strap by the dildo wearing just a tight little crop top and nothing else like you were Winnie the fucking Pooh. It was humiliating in the way that made you reach down, checking and confirming that your slick had gathered across your lower region— pent up and built up from the past few hours of general frustration.

You had no idea how that beast was meant to fit inside of you, but you’d grown desperate — eagerly pulling it downwards and hovering over it, smearing the pearly liquid from the tip around in your slick as the harness clattered against the floor. You let out a sigh, only to realise you were trembling from the adrenaline of doing something you shouldn’t. Biting back an excited grin, you push in slightly — the stretch making you wince, brows furrowing. You let out a harsh breath, whispering ‘Fuck’ to yourself as you do so, just the tip stretching you beyond what you’ve ever taken before. You balance on the flats of your feet, toes curling against the ground and eyes squeezing shut as you try and push in further, the thickness making you quietly cry out, unable to take it properly.

Tears sprung to your eyes, half at the stretch and half in frustration at the inability to fit it inside of you. “C’mon, please.” You whine quietly to no one, walls spasming around the plastic, which now was slick with your arousal dripping down it. You were beyond turned on, to the point where you were starting to feel a little pathetic. You tried to ease up, reaching down to rub your clit to help you along as you take a deep breath, mind trying to ease itself — visions of Abby touching you instead of your own hand, moaning quietly and frustratedly at the thought of her strapping you.

You try and push it deeper, and it seems like your walls are about to let up — but the door flies open and so do your eyes. Your world comes crumbling down in humiliation, your ears ringing and face burning hot; Abby stands before you, eyes wide and jaw slack with pink cheeks.

Your first thought is to pull the dildo out, and the size of it makes you let out a quiet pained whine as you do so. She’s frozen, and the rage takes over you. It’s the most comfortable emotion in a situation like this.

“I told you to knock!” You yell, grabbing your skirt and throwing the dildo to the ground.

“This— this is my room!” Her voice is high and defensive, still processing what she just saw as everything happened so quickly. You pull your skirt up and grab your panties off the floor and to make the embarrassment worse — you burst into tears before you’ve made it out the door, storming past her and slamming the door to your room. The final blow was realising you’d left the headphones behind.

Abby watches you until you’re out of sight before turning her head slowly back to the strap on laying abandoned on the floor, a single drip of what looks like your arousal beside it. Jesus, she thinks, letting out a long sigh and running her hand over her face as she enters the room fully — letting the door shut behind her. She slowly lowers herself into a squat, thick thighs bulging in her cargos as she inspects the scene. Abby lifts the harness, before grabbing the dildo by the suction end and sucking in a hitched breath at how you’d soaked it only a little way down. Your poor pussy, she thinks as her lower region warms guiltily at the imagery now the shock had worn off. “Was a good attempt.” She mutters to herself, tossing the dildo onto her bed and sighing, standing up and stroking beneath her chin in thought. She worries, wonders what you must have thought about her seeing that she’d brought a strap on into your home. You must’ve thought she was some kind of perv, right? How was she supposed to bring you back from this?

As you lay face down on your bed, crying embarrassed tears for an hour straight— you wonder if it would have been less embarrassing if Abby had followed you into your room rather than leaving you to storm off on your own. She probably didn’t want to see you, or speak to you for the matter of fact. You sit up, wiping your cheeks furiously — if that were the case, you had the right to be mad at her. It was her fault, she took your headphones which spiralled into this whole thing. Was it better to let things fizzle out and be awkward? You couldn’t think of anything worse, so you finally rose to your feet again, cleaning up your appearance with your jaw clenched before storming back down the hallway. You were going to finish this, and make her leave for good.

You didn’t bother to knock, because when did she bother? You pushed the door open so hard it bang loudly against the wall, and Abby turned around from her dresser — going through some envelopes, totally unphased.

“I’m taking my headphones!” You practically holler, an accusatory finger pointed right at her. She places the envelope aside as she leans against the dresser crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows.

“Okay.”

“And my father will be receiving a call! Yes, I will call him and tell him that you’re rude, you push boundaries, and you don’t ever fucking knock on any door!” You raise your voice even louder, counting off your fingers as she stares at you.

“Again, this is my room and I didn’t know you were in here.” She explains slowly like you were stupid, which only enrages you more.

“This is my house!” You shriek, waving your hands and she pushes off the dresser, stepping towards you.

“Is it?” She frowns. “Do you even pay any rent?”

You falter for just a second, but it’s enough for her to see and nearly smile, which only builds your emotion. “This is my families house. On your very first day here you said that you were a guest in my house, so act like one. My. House.” You step closer to meet her in the centre of the room, eyes boring up into hers as she watched you, unimpressed, tongue in her cheek.

She couldn’t lie, you were hot when you were mad. Infuriating, sure. But hot. Hot in the way where she wanted to shut you up, make you cum until you weren’t fighting back — just babbling aimlessly, frown fully melted from your face. Fuck you until you learnt a lesson. The thought made her stand up a little straighter.

“Yeah?” She tilts her head daringly, and enraged you step up closer, bodies nearly touching just so you could yell in her face.

“My. Hou—” You go to repeat yourself for emphasis but you’re cut off by the feeling of her hand gripping your cheeks, smushing them. When she speaks, it’s calm and menacing. You stare up at her wide eyed.

“You’re not gonna talk to me like that. You’re embarrassed, sweet girl — and I feel for you, but don’t you ever yell in my face like that. You understand me?” She tilts her head further, eyes on you. You’re humiliated, knees knocking into eachother at her calling you sweet girl whilst berating you and you frown, still panting — all hot faced and furious. She uses your cheeks to make you nod and you groan. “Good. If you wanna talk about what happened, let’s talk. But before you come up here and start accusing me of shit, remember that you came in here searching, and you found that,” she turns your face so that you were looking at the strap on laying on the bed. She stays facing you, eyes browsing the side of your face now. Your eyes widen a little at the sight, the memory of using it replaying in your head. “And you decided to use it without asking me.” She steps back a little, eyeing you (not even bothering to hide the hunger anymore). “Okay. Say your piece.” She gestures with her hand and you collect yourself, pulling in a shaky breath.

You admit, the confidence from your tone had vanished. “I was just trying to look for my headphones. I wanted to work out.” You explain and she nods, encouraging you to go on. “You… you brought that into this house, why?” You point at the toy on the bed, the embarrassment starting to slip through again in your pathetic tone of voice.

“Its not your business what I bring with me in my own bag.” Her velvety voice was quick to answer and your brow creased, running out of reasons to shift the blame onto her.

“Well… you can’t bring things like that here it’s — it’s inappropriate.” You internally curse yourself out for stuttering.

“You didn’t seem to have any complaints an hour ago when you were trying to stuff it inside yourself.” She shrugs like she just couldn’t help it from leaving her mouth and in your embarrassment you turn to leave again, walking towards the door. She follows and reaches over your head and shuts it in front of you before you can, grabbing your arm and turning you around so that your back was pressed to it now as she looms over you. “What? Am I wrong?”

“Abby.” You go to complain, but it comes out as a weak whisper.

“Is that why you did it? Maybe you were trying to get caught so you’d have a reason to get all mad and go batshit crazy on me, huh? Still going ahead with that bullshit plan of yours to send me packing?” Abby theorises and you lower your gaze, head tilted towards the ground as you thought. It wasn’t that, you weren’t brave enough. You were genuinely just being disgusting and horny and got yourself caught — which to you was all the more shameful. She knocks your chin up with her knuckle, making you look up at her again. “Or maybe you wanted to get caught so you could be punished. Is that what you wanted? ‘That why you been such a fucking brat?”

“Not a brat.” You huff, though you couldn’t deny it any further than that.

“You know what a brat is? Girls like you,” She poked a finger into your chest. “Who wanna be put in their place so they act out. I’m starting to think that’s just what you need.”

You try and push off the door but she’s blocking you to do so, bodies too close. “Do you really think I’d come in here and yell at you just because I wanna get spanked or whatever?” You bite back, proud of the comeback until she roughly spins you around by the hips so your cheek was pressed to the wooden door, back a little arched. She takes a fist of your skirt and yanks it up, holding it to your lower back making you gasp — fully exposing your bare rear. She chuckles and you wanna die.

“I dunno, didn’t even bother putting on a new pair of panties before coming up in here. Seems to me like you knew what you were doing. Lost the bass in your voice too, smart girl. Where’d all that anger go?” Her hand is gentle when it cups your ass, feeling the meat of it in her hand. You could not believe this was happening. You were mortified. Soaked, but mortified.

You try to fight back with your words, but it’s coming out in little huffs and embarrassed pants at the feeling of her grabbing your ass. “I’m— m’gonna tell — gonna tell on—”

“You’re gonna tell on me?” She snickered. “Are you gonna tell the full story? What you were doing on the floor when I walked in?” She purs in your ear and you can hear her smiling. She’s sick.

You say nothing, because if you’re being honest you’re giving up on your resolve— the feeling of her hands on you just melting your anger away like ice. “No I didn’t think so.”

She gives your ass a light slap, just enough to jiggle it and make you whimper at the suddenness before turning you back around, eyes glancing between yours seriously. “You wanna know what I think?”

You sigh and nod, not trusting your voice at this point.

She gently takes you by the arm and walks you over to the foot of the bed, picking up the strap and holding it. “I think you need to clean my strap for me.”

The way she says it makes you feel hot and bothered, and you go to reach for it to shamefully disappear and wash it in the sink but she holds it out of your reach, raising her eyebrows playfully as she stares you down for a moment. “Not like that.”

She brings the strap down, stepping into the leg holes of the harness before pulling it up and adjusting it to fit her by the hoops at the hip. You watch, trembling — the sight of her standing there with a huge cock something you had only dreamt of, making you squeeze your thighs together. You hated yourself for how weak willed you’d become.

“You can clean it up that smart mouth of yours.” She smiles simply before placing both hands on your shoulders and pushing you down slowly to the ground. She sits too on the edge of the bed, spreading her thighs wide to accommodate to you between them. She wanted you to suck her off? Now that was just degrading. You pursed your lips, trying and failing to ignore the rush of slick seeping from you.

“Abby. Come on.” You whisper and she looks at you for a moment, making you shrink where you were kneeled before leaning forward, gently grasping your chin again, her face millimetres from yours.

“It’s the least you can do.” She threatens before leaning back on her hands, nodding towards her cock. She nearly folds and leans forward to kiss you when she sees the big, sweet, doe eyes you give her — so far removed from your usual glare. If she knew that all she had to do was dom the good girl out of you, her previous month would have been a lot easier.

You gingerly grip the shaft with your hand, bringing your face towards it. God, it smells like you still— to think that only an hour ago you were on the ground trying to shove it inside yourself. Your brows furrow as you kitten lick the top, before suckling on the top with a low moan in your throat gaining confidence. “Good girl.” She praises as you push down a little, sucking harder to the point where you can taste the breeding liquid. You’re not quite sure if it’s meant to be consumed but you don’t care, you don’t care about anything at this point.

You wanna push down further, but you’re struck with a thought and pull off her with a pop— glaring up at her with some of your leftover brattiness.

“What’s that face for?” She hums. You struggle to find your words.

“You… We’re…” You huff, sulkily and she watches the glimmer of longing pass over your face. “You’re making me suck you off and you haven’t even kissed me.” You finally get it out and she smirks, but not totally in a mean way — more so adoringly. Smushing your cheeks again with her hand, she pulls your face in, meeting you in the middle as her cock brushes against your chest as her lips meet yours. It’s a hard, wet, sloppy kiss with your cheeks smushed but it’ll do, and when she pulls off you with a loud smack she roughly rubs her thumb beneath your pouty bottom lip to remove the residual saliva. “Now get back to work.”

She holds back a giggle at the sight of your own pleased smile as you go back down, licking up the sides and cleaning off the plastic — groaning at the residual taste of you clinging to it. This was cruel, wicked even — and you were enjoying it.

“Thats it. Knew I’d be able to find better use for that mouth. Must be tired from running it so much.” Her voice is gentle despite the degradation and it fills your brain with a hazy, muddled fog — not sure how to feel anymore. You pull up for air after taking as much as you can, and as soon as your lips wrap around the dick again, Abby can’t help herself from pressing her hand down on the back of your head gently, muttering a “‘Can do better than that, pretty.” as you gag around her. This seemed to be the first straw in what broke the camels back.

It had dawned on you, half way through sucking her off that after this she was likely just to throw you out on your ass, back to your room to take care of yourself. Getting you on your knees infront of her was her way of winning once and for all, and this was only one last humiliation to shut you up completely. You hadn’t realised you were in your head until Abby was pulling her strap out your mouth, tilting your chin up to her as she leant forward once more. “Hey. Where’d you go just now?”

You try and break away, trying to catch her tip in your mouth again, jaw a little agape and tongue peeping out but she grips your chin more firmly, shaking you a little. “Hey. Look at me.”

“S’nothing Abby. Just lemme—”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” You swallow thickly, shaking your head.

“Then what?”

You suck in a deep breath. “Are you gonna chuck me out after this? Are you… are you only doing this to embarrass me?” She stares at you in perplexity as she watched your mouth turn down, emotions catching up with you as you squeeze your eyes shut — two fat tears sliding down your tears.

“Hey, no.” She’s still a little confused, but she wipes your tears away with the back of her hand anyway. She sighs, pulling you up by the arm and sitting you on her thigh. “Okay. Maybe this kind of thing isn’t for you. That’s okay.”

You wipe your nose, a little calmer and clearer headed now. “I was enjoying it. I think I just… I feel like no one cares about me. It just caught up with me that’s all. We can get back to it.” You go to stand up off her but she holds you tighter, making you look at her.

“I care about you. I stupidly, really care about you.” She speaks sincerely, and you stare at her analytically before realising that she actually truly means it. Abby cares about you.

She pulls you in gently this time, lips locking against yours. It’s not mean, or sarky, or trying to tease you — it’s a real meaningful kiss and you just melt. All that anger, all that competitiveness just melts off you like ice cream on a hot and hazy day. You wrap your arms around her neck, letting her lick into your mouth and dominate your tongue with her own, pulling it in and sucking on it making you shift on her thigh and whimper. You think about grinding down on her thick, cargo covered thighs and how good that might feel after a month of staring at them — but before you can, she’s easing you to lay on your back on the bed.

“Can show you how much I care about you. Maybe we can start over, how’s that sound?” She whispers into the space below your ear, pressing a wet kiss there and you let out a shaky huff, nodding. “Gonna need your words though. That’s how this works, sweet girl.”

“Please show me.”

“Like that, good job.”

Her hands look large, but they feel even larger — especially when they’re beside eachother, running up beneath your top— fingertips brushing over your hard nipples as she tests the waters, smiling against your skin when your back arches up into her, a sensitive whine quietly passing your lips. She slowly drags up your top, pushing herself down your body to pepper kisses down the centre of your chest, letting out a quiet groan of her own when she grips your tit with her hand, massaging the plush flesh. “M—outh” You choke out in a pleasured haze and she chuckles, eyebrows jumping up in amusement as she adjusts her position.

“Should have known you’d know exactly what you want.” She teases before flattening her tongue over the bud of your nipple, pulling back to blow cold air on it to harden it making you wince sensitively. The smile barely leaves her when she dips down, wrapping her pouty pink lips around the bud and sucking, soothing her tongue over it and digging her teeth in ever so slightly, letting them scrape over your nipple when she pulls away. “Fuck, so pretty.” She grits her teeth, reaching up and grabbing it in her hand again letting it jiggle beneath her palm.

You buck your hips again, which directs her attention to your lower regions — forcing her to depart from your breast to continue her journey down your body. She sits up, both hands encasing your waist, rubbing thumbs into your lower ribs gently. “Anyone ever eat your pussy?”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the bold question and your eyes flutter open, not quite remembering when you closed them. “No.”

She grins, like that was just the answer she was after and climbs back down— kissing your stomach and then flipping your skirt up so she could kiss your pubic mound. You shiver, a little insecure but filled with desire more than anything as her hands slide up between your legs. “Open these up for me.” She whispers, and her hot breath wafts over your needing cunt when she reveals it, pulling back to look at it.

You feel your chest and face get hot as she stares— dark eyed and hungry straight at your most private area. “So fucking pretty.” She whispers, thumbs sliding either side of your fat lips and pulling them apart, her brows furrowing. “You always get this wet? Jesus.”

You don’t answer, because you don’t quite have the guts to tell her that you don’t remember the last time someone had aroused you this much, to the point where it’s taken over your body and brain entirely.

She leans in, and you expect her tongue to dart out first — but she spits, directly on your clit making you jolt with a whimper, then chasing it up with the flat of her tongue as her thick arms wrap around your thighs, jaw practically unhinging as she starts eating you like her life depends on it.

You moan, loudly and with less shame as time passes now, grinding your hips up into her face — which she matches by pinning them back down to the bed, only pulling away to briefly grab a cushion from the bed and slot it beneath your hips to elevate you slightly — so fast and expertly you barely realise she’s done it before she’s back to mouthing at your crotch.

“Feels so good!” You whine and she chuckles against you, the vibration of which sends shockwaves through to your stomach. “Need you to fuck me.” You mutter, more to yourself but she acknowledges it anyway, the hands that were massaging your hips sliding between your thighs.

“If you want to take my cock I’m gonna need to prep you. You saw yourself, s’never gonna fit with how tight you are right now.”

With this new information, you feel her finger tips sliding through your soaked folds gently as she suckles on your clit relentlessly. You whine, trying your best not to clamp down when she slides in her finger, and then another. You were in heaven, panting up to the ceiling as she fingerfucks you, l your hand sliding down to encase itself in her golden hair — glowing from the sunset streaming in through the window.

She moans as she tastes you, brows furrowed and eyes clamped shut like she could feel every movement of her tongue herself. “Gonna give you one more okay? Need to stretch you— still so fucking tight.” She speaks against you and all you can do is nod, in fact at that point you’d probably let her do anything she wanted to you. It was such a relief to drop the act, to just relax and let her take care of you.

A third finger prods at your entrance and you wince as she slowly slides it in, looking up at you to watch your expression — brows pinching and eye twitching at the feeling, walls wrapping tightly round her thick fingers. “There you go, pretty girl. Took that like a champ.” She kisses your hip bone before getting back to work, slowly and experimentally fucking her three fingers in and out, curling them up to grind against your upper gummy inner wall.

“Feel like I’m gonna cum, Abby it’s — it’s so much.” You shake, toes curled so hard they’d gone white and she hums kindly against you, pulling off your clit again with a loud spitty pop.

“I know baby, I know. Let it out.” She whispers, rushed and syrupy like she was too on the precipice of a moan. She moves her tongue in quick successions around your clit as you start to buck and ride against her fingers, a clammy sound matching this — your wetness creating music against her knuckles as you fuck against them. “Cum, smart girl, cum.”

You do, and you’re so full it’s like there’s nowhere for the cum to go — and therefore you feel like you might explode, suddenly letting out loud cries and whines as you shake and jerk on the bed, only to be held down by Abby’s strong arms. She moans too, because you’re dripping down her wrists and her chin — seeming to have a never ending quantity of cum as she laps it up. You taste exactly how she thought you would.

You can’t even tell she’s stopped because your legs are still violently shaking for a minute, coming down from your orgasm felt like it would never end— but you were grounded by the feeling of Abby’s lips on your cheek, sliding her hands under your back to hold you. “I know, it’s okay. Good job.” She cooes into your hair, silencing your nonsensical babbles. She doesn’t push you to move onto the next thing, just stroking your skin and pressing her lips to your skin until you were calm.

Abby feels tugging down below, and looks down between your bodies to see your hand wrapped around her shaft, tugging towards you as your legs fall open again limply. She winces like she can feel it, and she swears she can when you lazily run your thumb over the tip that had drizzled some of the pearlescent liquid out from all the movement. She watches you play with the spillage between your fingers, before bringing it to your puffy cunt, spreading it through your folds and whimpering at the sensitivity.

“Shit, babe.” She sighs out, the room feeling suddenly much warmer. “You wanna continue?”

“Mhm. Was prepping to take you, remember?” You brush the loose strand from her braid hanging over her cheek out of her face. The gesture is intimate, like two lovers who have been together for a while. You almost feel embarrassed again but she turns her cheek and kisses your palm.

She nestles the pads of her fingers into your folds again, sliding around in your arousal and you sigh out at the sensitivity, the urge to be filled returning from its brief satisfaction. “Well you’re definitely wet enough.” She smirks in disbelief, and you can’t believe that there was a time where you would have rolled your eyes at such comments — now only doe eyed and lip bitten as your legs fall open wider. Her fingers are replaced by her strap, sliding up and down — collecting your wetness along it, a whimper leaving you when the tip nudges against your swollen clit.

“Think you’re ready for me?” She asks and before she’s even finished the sentence you moan out a quick and desperate ‘yes!’ making her laugh, keeling into herself with her chin to her chest for a moment. She looks cute and you want to kiss her again. In due time, you think. “How long has it been since you last got fucked?” She continues sliding her strap up and down. Abby secretly thinks she’s stalling, because she wants this closeness to last.

You shake your head breathlessly, trying to clear the fog in order to answer her simple question. Why was she asking questions at a time like this?

“Like — nine months maybe a year?” You answer and she nods, understandingly.

“It’s no wonder you’re so tight. This is gonna be quite a squeeze, yeah?” She looks you deep in your eyes, like she did every time she wanted you to really listen.

“I know, s’okay.” You breathe, and at this she takes your hand in her larger one.

“S’gonna be big. You can squeeze my hand if you want. Deep breath in.” She instructs and you slowly inhale as she pushes in, your hand squeezing hers as you clench around her thick length.

The “Fuck” you let out in a breathy groan is obscene and borderline pornagraphic, which makes Abby fight the urge to bottom out completely and shove her cock inside you fully all at once, but she’s patient, her breath hitching as she reassures you.

“I know, I know.” is all she can say as she pushes in further.

“W—wait.” You tense up a little and she freezes with no hesitation, letting you adjust to the stretch as she drops kisses onto your jaw until you were ready. This happened a couple of times, and she’d oblige to your wishes each time you halt her until she was fully seated inside you.

You felt like the air had been punched out of you, Abby was so deep. “Hows that?” She whispers.

“So big.” You mewl.

“Taking it so well. See, we got it all in the end.” She praises, quiet and gleeful watching you blissed out beneath her.

“Y’not getting paid enough for this, he’s not paying you enough to deal with me.” You babble into her shoulder in regards to her deal with your father, legs trembling around her hips.

“You kidding me? He’s paying me to fuck his daughters pretty pussy, think I’ll be okay.” She scoffs into your neck, sucking wet kisses into the skin there, hips still not moving as you adjust.

“S’not why he’s paying you.” Your nose turns up and she chuckles before lifting her face to hover right above yours, lips occasionally brushing. She begins to move her hips and you both gasp at the feeling.

“How about… instead of arguing with me… you shut up and take my fucking strap.” She whispers temptingly and you go limp again, apart from your hips which twitch against her movements letting her grind her strap in and out of you slowly.

“Oh my god!” You cry, letting go of her hand to wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her into you to connect your lips. She lets you whimper against her and suck on her bottom lip whilst she concentrates on finding that angle. She knows she’s struck gold when your legs jerk around her before your heels dig into her ass.

“Faster please Abby, please faster!” You sound deranged, at the point she wanted you all along — cockdrunk and desperate without a care in the world. She clenches around nothing at the thought of just keeping you this dumb all the time.

She speeds up on command, hips smacking against you now as she pulls away to watch the way your tits bounce beneath her. “Oh baby, you’re fucking taking it.” She pants, impressed at how quickly you’ve allowed her to really go in on you. She reaches between you to rub your clit and you squeal, tears springing to your eyes. “Yeah? Want me to rub it? S’it that good, pretty girl?”

“Yes! Please! I— I can’t Abby it’s too — Abby please I wanna— need to cum!” Your hands are curled into her t-shirt adorably which only makes her go harder, practically punching the sounds out of you like a squeaky toy each time she thrusts. You feel yourself teetering over the edge once more, abused pussy relentlessly sucking her in with obscene wet noises attached. Before you can release, your hand reaches down to cup the balls of the strap. “Want it inside, please Ab— please want it inside me—” You ramble and she catches on, and as you tense up, letting out a pained whine as you cum, she slides her hand on top of yours, pressing down to empty the cum lube inside you. The feeling of the warm liquid spurting against your cervix makes you shake, sobbing uncontrollably suddenly as you ride it out.

“There you go, good fucking girl. You like that don’t you? Fuck, letting me breed you like this the first time we fuck? You dirty fucking girl. Such a pretty fucking girl.” She’s babbling too, unravelled by the beauty that was you cumming the way you did. She knew she was good at fucking, but to make someone cry like that was driving her insane.

You’re floating when she pulls out, the two of you breathless and fucked out. Effortlessly, she pushes her hands under your arms and drags you further up the bed until you’re laying against the pillow and she drops down besides you, pulling you into her chest, t-shirt slightly damp with sweat. You listen to her heart thundering in her chest, and it lulls you into a sleepy and relaxed zone, pulling your thigh up over her hip with her help, her thumb stroking the crease where your ass and thigh connects.

“Did so good. The sounds you make are so pretty.” She whispers like she was trying to lull you to sleep. You shift, breath stammering in your throat and nearly choking you when your used pussy glides over her shaft— the veins and ridges catching against your clit making your hips jerk on her, unable to stop yourself from slowly and feverishly rubbing down on her as you breathe heavily in the quiet room.

“Want more, sweet girl?” She cooes, hand running down the back of your head to cup it lovingly.

“Too sore.” It comes out muffled into her t-shirt, aimlessly rocking your hips.

“That’s alright. Just keep… keep doing this.” She relaxes into the bed, kissing your forehead and letting you please yourself, grinding into the mixture of your juices and the fake cum soaking the both of your lower halves. It was messy and bordering on gross, but made your needy clit throb all the more. You were truly insatiable. Had it really been that long?

She sighed in pleasure at the feeling of you grinding against her, the position making her harness press deliciously into her own clit, pleasing you both. Perhaps she too could get off from this.

The sun had gone in, and the room had grown dark. But this time, you weren’t afraid — infact the growing inkiness of the sky was the last thing on your mind— safe, warm and dumb in Abby’s strong arms.

Maybe you’d let her stick around.

[vax-merstappen]

on vacation with the f1 boys ✈️

i love to travel so this is just me being self indulgent lol. also disclaimer i know some of the pictures are not from the country i said the vacation is in, bear with me lol. hope you enjoy and drop me any pref requests you might have!

Lando Norris

Destination: Finland

Lando always went on a ski trip with his friends during the winter break and this year he invited you to go along. You started on the easier slopes, as you both had to get the hang of skiing again, but by the end of the day you were tackling some of the more difficult ones along with your group of friends. Afterwards, the group settled down in the ski lodge with cups of hot chocolate around a crackling fire. You all spent a few hours joking around and catching up after not having all been together for a while. To finish off the day, you and Lando went alone to the sauna where you had the chance to decompress together before heading to bed. All in all, the day was well spent and you asked Lando when you would be able to come back even though you knew the answer would be next year.

Oscar Piastri

Destination: New Zealand

During the winter break, you and Oscar did not want to travel too far from his home in Australia, so you decided to go to the nearby country of New Zealand. Both of you loved staying at the beach and so you decided to spend most of your days at the scenic shores of the country. After having a relaxing time at the beach, you decided to tour the country’s mountains together and to take in the beautiful views. A personal highlight for you is a romantic dinner with Oscar in the stunning city of Queenstown. All in all, it is a relaxing trip far from the pressures of racing that brings the two of you unforgettable memories.

Max Verstappen

Destination: Italy

For Max, a vacation was any time he could spend completely away from racing with you and his friends. So, instead of traveling far away from his apartment in Monaco, he wasted no time in going on a boating trip with all his favorite people along the Italian coast. You both spent days lounging on the deck together and nights drinking with the group at the yacht’s bar. The sea made for a perfect getaway from Max’s fast paced life and you could not be happier to get some time with your boyfriend in such a scenic place. Relaxing in the waves truly made for a great time.

Charles Leclerc

Destination: Los Angeles

Your favorite place to visit together was definitely LA. You both had friends who lived there so it only made sense to take a trip there when you both were free. You spent the days on the beach with him, either surfing if the waves were nice or simply sunbathing otherwise. Charles also convinced you to go on the most extreme rides at all of the amusement parks, giving you an adrenaline rush that kept you wanting more. So many laughs were had with each of your friends, especially when Charles insisted on winning you a giant Ferrari colored banana plush at the arcade. You had no idea where you would find space for it in your apartment, but you knew you would cherish the memories it brought to mind.

Carlos Sainz

Destination: Miami

To Carlos, it would not be a good vacation without some golf. So, you both decided to head to Miami where you could find the best of what both of you loved doing, golf and relaxing on the beach. While Carlos golfed in the mornings, you relaxed on the beachfront balcony of the house you were staying in. And during the afternoons, you would both head to the beach to relax in the sand and waves. One morning you decided to spice things up and have Carlos try to teach you to golf, but after accidentally hitting the ball into someone else’s golf cart, you quickly scrapped that idea. Your favorite memory of the trip was definitely the day you spent completely together on a snorkeling trip to see a nearby coral reef.

Lewis Hamilton

Destination: Dubai

When Lewis wasn’t racing, he still loved to be doing something adventurous. Lucky for him, you shared his love of an adrenaline rush. So the perfect destination was Dubai. Every day was filled with excitement, from riding ATVs though the desert to eating at luxurious restaurants in the city. Lewis even convinced you to go skydiving with him at the end of your trip which was an experience you knew you would never forget. There was never a dull moment when you and Lewis traveled together and you knew that once this vacation ended, you would already be planning for another.

Daniel Ricciardo

Destination: Austin

Everyone knew one of Daniel’s favorite places was Austin, Texas. So when he had a week off after the race in Texas, Daniel of course convinced you to stay with him on vacation there for the next few days. He took you to his favorite bars and barbecue restaurants to savor the food. He also took you to a ranch where you got to ride horses through the American countryside. On the last day of the trip, the two of you decided to go to a country music concert and dance the night away. Both of you loved music and so this was the perfect memory to end what was a great few days of exploring the Texan landscape. And of course you had to get a souvenir cowboy hat to remember the trip by.

Yuki Tsunoda

Destination: Mexico

As you and Yuki are both foodies, you decided to go to a place with one of your favorite cuisines, Mexico. You arranged to travel throughout the country to try different foods from various regions. Between meals, you would spend time seeing some of Mexico’s most scenic beaches and visiting some of the tourist destinations like Chichen Itza. The best part, however, was getting to spend so much uninterrupted time with your boyfriend who was always away from home. Though you knew Yuki lived the fast life, all you wanted to do with him was relax. And what better place to do it than in such a warm and beautiful country. As for your favorite food you tried? There were too many good dishes to choose!

Alex Albon

Destination: Phuket

Alex was thrilled when you agreed to go to the country he raced for. When you got there, he excitedly showed you around all of the sights and took you to eat his favorite local food. After a few days of frantically touring Alex’s favorite places, you both decided that it wasn’t truly a vacation unless you relaxed a little bit. So, you spent the rest of the week at the beach in each other’s arms, just savoring the other’s company. There were a few splash fights in the pool and the time where you jokingly pushed Alex off of the boat, but otherwise you spent your time relaxing on the sand. Thai sunsets were truly like no other and you knew you would savor your memories for years to come.

Logan Sargeant

Destination: USA

When you realized that Logan hadn’t traveled much around his own country outside of Florida, you immediately decided that you were going on a road trip to fix that. The plan was that you would go up the east coast, stopping in all of the major cities to see the sights. From Carolina beaches to the nation’s capital, there were surely a lot of things to do. And when you had a boyfriend who drove cars for a living, of course you got to the be the passenger princess. Every time a road sign showed something that sounded cool, you insisted that you stop. Your personal favorite destination was New York, where you got to show Logan a lot of the famous landmarks that everybody would recognize. Once you hit Boston, you decided to head back south to his home state and warmer weather. You would cherish these memories forever.

[f0point5]

MAD MAX FIGHT SCENE WHEN?? I have never needed a written piece more than right now

I also reserve the right to imagine Emilia throwing a shoe at someone in this scenario. Idk why i just feel like it could happen. She is not happy about it

MAD MAX FIGHT SCENE NOW!!!

Tell me why this went four different ways before I came to this version. The alternate version took place in a club and had Emilia spraying champagne at a bunch of people but fundamentally it didn’t work as a written piece because you can’t hear what anyone’s saying in a club for shit 😂 No shoe throwing but I hope you like it anyway 😂

Me writing action scenes is like something out of that book After it’s so bad I’m sorry but I hope you got where I’m going 😂

✨set after the Monaco Grand Prix 2018✨

I don’t regret it one bit, ‘cause he had it coming

Another Monaco GP, another yacht party. You’re not even sure whose yacht it is but you don’t care. During GP weekend, drivers can pretty much walk onto whatever boat they want. You, Max, Clara, and Laurent had wandered onto the biggest boat with people having a party and set about forgetting Max’s nightmare weekend. The party is chaotic, you’re not sure how long whoever is in charge of the marina will let the noise and overcrowding go on, but you’re enjoying the high, four shots down with Max on the upper deck, lazily moving to the music emanating from the DJ playing his set downstairs.

“Where’s Laurent?” Max asks, practically shouting in your ear. He’s tipsy, which he deserves to be, his arm slung over your shoulder as he looks around, jerking your body as he turns. He’s out way too late, you can tell by how his t-shirt is clinging to him, and the fluffy top of his hair has completely broken free of the gel hold. He looks positively feral. You don’t hate it.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, pushing up onto your tiptoes so you don’t have to shout. “Probably fucking Clara in a bathroom somewhere,”

Max chuckles at that, taking a sip of his Red Bull. He offers it to you but you shake your head.

“I thought you were supposed to be supporting me,” he jokes as you avoid the can.

“Not by rotting my insides,” you tell him, squirming in his hold as he bops to the Dua Lipa remix he’ll pretend he’s never heard before. He manoeuvres you in front of him as if you don’t even have feet, wrapping his arm around your stomach so that you’re still trapped, but comfortable.

“Je bent niet leuk, schatje,” he says into your ear. The air on your neck makes you shiver against him, and he must think you’re cold because he holds you tighter.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you tell him, which makes him smirk. “And I’m not your baby,”

“Ja, maar-“

“Max!”

You twist in Max’s hold when a guy you don’t recognise appears from somewhere in the crowd. Max lets go of you to greet him, and without being entirely engulfed by 80kgs of Red Bull and audacity, you realise you’re parched. You tell Max you’ll be right back and scoot out of reach before he can say anything. You creep through the crowd and then downstairs to where the drinks are without twisting your ankle, which, given how drunk you felt back upstairs, sort of surprises you.

There’s several ice buckets lining the edge of the deck and you peruse the options. You’ve certainly had enough to drink but one more vodka couldn’t hurt. You glance over at the cans of Red Bull and make a note to take one with you as you pick a glass off the table.

“Do you come with the bottles?”

Well, that’s a choice of opening line, talking to a girl like she’s a phone charm.

You turn to see what, not whom, actually felt comfortable saying that out loud and there he was. The epitome of a guy who would say that. He’s older than you, maybe mid to late 20s, all tan and tight jeans, dark hair cut in a fade, gold watch that could be seen from space and those Louboutin loafers. His cologne smells like Dubai.

You look him up and down very slowly and deliberately. “Not if you’re buying them,” you say, turning back to the ice bucket.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” his voice is closer now, almost in your ear. You turn only slightly and find his face already next to yours. ”Come have a drink over here,” he nods over to a seating area where a few guys sit with girls that look too young to be there.

You know the type - down on a girls trip for the weekend with only party outfits in their bags, they’d likely hung around the marina until the pack of jackals had brought them here to ply them with alcohol they didn’t have to pay for. You’re half offended that this guy thought you’d be anywhere near that easy.

“I’ve got enough, thanks.” You say, firmer this time, as you give up on the vodka and just grab one of the many bottles of champagne in the ice bucket. When you turn to leave, you practically collide with the hunk of meat now towering over you.

“Who do I have to speak to to get you to come have a drink with me?” He asks, as if that’s meant to be sexy.

You roll your eyes. “Your hairdresser.”

“Come on, just one drink. I’ll make it worth your while,” he says, his eyes glancing down. You follow his gaze, already steeling yourself for some vulgar gesture, but he pulls out the edge of his wallet from his jeans.

You roll your eyes again. “I’m not pay for play. Now leave me alone.”

You step around him this time, starting to make your way back towards the stairs when this experiment in protein shake consumption blocks your way. You almost trip trying not to crash into him, not that he would have minded if the way he leans into you Is any indication.

“Look, I’m not some nobody, baby, I’ve got real fucking money. I’m what all you pretty girls come out here in your skimpy dresses for,” he says, the noxious smell of chemicals and tequila almost making your eyes water. What makes you feel sick is the way he uses his height advantage to look down your dress. “So have a drink with me. It’ll be fun, I promise,”

Only now does he employ an actual smile, the kind that you’d never want to be in a room alone with. Suddenly, you don’t feel like making any more jokes, you just want to get as far away from this guy as possible. Turning on your heels, you figure you’ll double back around the deck, but a hand tight on your wrist stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t walk away from me,” the words are growled, and you feel your pulse spike. Now you’re scared, but showing it will get you nowhere.

“Get off me,” you snap, trying to shake the giant cretin off you without causing a scene. He doesn’t let go and you’re just about to bottle him over the head when you hear Max’s voice.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Max strides towards you, looking as angry as you’ve ever seen him. He must have been watching from up by the railings of the top deck.

“Oh, here we go,” the guy grumbles, rolling his eyes as he looks at Max. You take the opportunity to wrench your arm free of him. “Don’t worry, bro. You can have her back when I’m finished with her,”

“You arrogant piece of shit,” you snarl at the guy, almost taking a step towards him before thinking better of it.

“Watch your mouth,” he snaps back, pointing a finger at you. “Your ass isn’t that nice,”

“The fuck did you just say?” Max yells over the music. He guides you behind him effortlessly and you don’t argue, though you do keep hold of his arm.

“You heard me, you prick,” the douchebag says, flashing Max a cocky grin. That won’t go down well.

You pull on Max’s arm. You can tell from the set of his shoulders that this is getting out of hand.

“Max, leave it,” you tell him, pulling him again, and this time he listens, sighing and shaking his head. He knows he has to let it go.

“Jesus,” the arrogant pig sneers, and you cringe. “Has this bitch got a magic pussy or something?”

You don’t even have a chance against Max’s reaction speed. He’s moving before your eyes can even follow, shoving the guy backwards so quickly that the drunkard stumbles slightly, but not as much as you thought he would.

“Shut the fuck up,” Max growls at him.

Dickhead doesn’t take this well, shoving Max back. You’re too scared to get in the middle now. People are starting to stare, a couple of them even have their phones out.

“Max,” it’s more of a plea than anything. “Stop it,”

You know Max isn’t going to just drop it. He doesn’t know how to walk away from a fight, it’s just that normally his fighting involves being protected by a ton of carbon fibre, not that he thinks he needs it.

“You don’t want to mess with me, man,” the guy shouts, looking over Max’s shoulder to glare at you. “Certainly not over some dirty yacht slut,”

Once again, you’re no match for Max’s reaction speed. You don’t see his arm move. You’re barely able to process his fist connecting with the guy’s face. You just see Dickhead fly backwards clutching his jaw as he tumbles to the ground.

“Max!” You scream, but this time he totally ignores you.

“Fucking pussy,” he yells, at the same volume but now that the music has been turned down so that everyone can pay attention to the spectacle, it feels like the whole marina can hear him.

He steps towards the disoriented drunkard on the floor and this time you manage to catch up with him, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him backwards.

“Max, come on,”

He’s fighting it a little, and you press your nails into his skin as you fight harder, dragging him away from where Douchebag’s friends have swarmed around him trying to help. You know they’re looking in your direction but you ignore them and you’re hoping Max does, too.

He turns to look at you and it’s like barely recognises you, his face is flushed and his pupils are dilated and you don’t entirely recognise him either. It knocks the wind out of you, and for just a second you swear everything stops, even your heartbeat.

“You’re okay?” Max asks you, through frenzied breathing.

Your mouth is dry but you speak anyway. “I’m fine.” You don’t know if you’re lying. “Let’s just go,”

You don’t give him time to argue, and it seems he’s calmed down enough to realise now is a good time to cut your losses, because he follows you without complaint.

You don’t let go of him until you’re on the concrete pathway up towards the stairs that have street access. More accurately, that’s when you become aware that you’re still holding onto him. When two toasted revellers try to walk between you but can’t, and shout something at you in Spanish for walking too slow. You let go of Max but he still doesn’t say anything. You keep stealing glances at him as you walk. His shoulders are still tight, his jaw is clenched. His hands are clenched into fists at his side. He still looks livid. That’s why you’re nervous, that’s why you can’t catch your breath, that’s why it’s hard to look away from him. You’re worried about him.

“Well, that was stupid,” you say with a sigh, once you’re sure your words won’t come out as some kind of breathy invocation of a worse kind of chaos than anything you’ve already been involved in tonight.

“That guy was stupid,” Max shoots back, grinding his teeth.

“You could have got hurt, Max,” you tell him, shoving him in the arm. He rolls his eyes. Of course. When taking your own life in your hands is what you get paid for there’s not much you can afford to be scared of. “What would have happened if you’d broke your hand? Your dad would actually kill me,”

“My dad would have done the same thing I did,” Max counters, and you can tell by the several expressions that cross his face in quick succession that he doesn’t quite know how to feel about that.

“Your dad is an idiot,” you remind him. He doesn’t argue. “And so are you,”

He scoffs. “So I was just supposed to let him talk to you like that? Touch you like that?” It’s not really a question, more a general statement of unadulterated disgust and you can’t really blame him. “Fuck that. I’m not going to just-“

He cuts himself off, his jaw ticking again. Neither of you have ever spoken about it, but you know men behaving like sentient sewage is a sore subject for both of you. Maybe, you think, you shouldn’t make him feel bad for standing up for you. You’d never needed anyone to stand up for you, and you still didn’t, but the fact that Max always did means more to you than you know how to articulate.

You lean over and kiss him on the cheek, catching more of the corner of his mouth than you intended, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stops walking and looks at you, the left side of his lips twitching.

“You kiss idiots?” Max asks, tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip.

“Exclusively,” you shrug, “judging by my dating history,”

That makes him laugh, a proper one, with that bark he does when he’s surprised how funny he finds something. All traces of the menace from the boat filter out of his body, and something in the back of your head tells you it was just in time.

“Hey,” a loud, obnoxious, and lovable voice rings out behind you. You turn around and see Laurent walking towards you with a well satisfied Clara on his back, holding a large bottle of pilfered champagne. “Where the fuck have you two been?”

[smutty-ki113r]

🛩Masky🛩||Toxic

NSFW||~ One shot x afab gn!reader, includes- vouyerism, pleasure dom masky, mirror play, teasing, edging, pilot masky, minors—dni (3.4k)

Inspired by: Britney Spears

(Fun fact I wrote this on the plane 😗)!

Working as a flight attendant was such a hassle, keeping you up at ungodly hours and having you deal with customers that complained about their seat. But it certainly had its perks, learning how to balance 4000 ft in the air and ending up in some incredible places, layovers in Hawaii, Dubai, Spain. Out of all these things you never would have imagined joining the mile high club…

You had an hour to get from terminal 1 to 3, your last flight was to Miami, so you were at MIA, looking around for a bathroom. Fixing up your hair quickly and adjusting your uniform before reaching the gate.

The other attendants were also waiting to the side, you were early. Of course you had to board the plane beforehand to check the seats and restock the drink cart.

There was only a few passengers waiting around too, you swayed against your luggage. Looking around to see the two pilots that would be driving the plane walking towards you, one of them you had flown with before, Brian Thomas.

The other one, particularly, caught your eye- probably because you had caught his first. Your heart skipped a beat and you gave him a friendly smile, then averted your gaze to avoid being awkward.

You had never seen him, he was probably new, laughing at something Brian said, but his sight was on you.

The corner of his lip was raised just slightly, he was practically undressing you with his eyes. You couldn’t even complain, he was hot as fuck, and he was flustering you. But his face remained innocent, nobody noticed but you.

He had this dark brown hair and defined features, he was classy, wearing his white uniform and a tie, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to how it fit him so perfectly. His build so defined- you stopped from staring at his pants.

If there’s one thing you loved it was a man in uniform.

Nobody had ever flirted with you on the job, and while no words were exchanged, you could feel his burning gaze.

You gulped and tried to look ahead, relieved when they called for all the attendants to board, it took the pressure off.

You took your post at the front of the plane and awaited for the passengers to board to then do the safety demonstrations and make sure everybody had their seatbelts on.

Soon enough zone 1 people started coming and you greeted them all, the door to the cockpit opened and you found yourself face to face with the pilot, glancing at his name embroidered in gold.

“Wright” you said softly, meeting his gorgeous eyes.

“yeah like the Wright brothers” he joked, looking you up and down and giving you a subtle smirk.

“That’s fitting” you told him. “Nice to meet you…”

“Tim” he finished, catching your name as well. “We’re about to take off, be a dear and get me some water will you?” He requested.

Nodding obediently and scurrying off to find him some water, he watched you go. Knocking on the door to the pit to alert them of your arrival and handing him the drink.

“Thank you gorgeous” he said, your face turning red at the compliment and instead moving to greet the other pilot, Brian nodded to you and you left.

Your thoughts remained on the beautiful man and you mindlessly did your rounds before the plane took off. Strapping in and listening to the men over the intercom.

“And we are ready for departure, flight 113 from MIA to JFK”

Smiling at yourself at the thought of your one day vacation in New York City. You wanted to go shopping and maybe visit the Statue of Liberty.

It was two hours into the grueling flight, your ears had already popped from the altitude, you never did get used to that.

You sat at the back, passing around the cart once and letting your other fellow flight attendants do the rounds for trash and such. You were all alone, looking out the window, your head in the clouds, and being almost startled as you saw the handsome man approach.

“I thought you were driving this thing” you whisper-hissed.

“Brian’s doing it, I’ve been at the wheel for almost three hours” he said, stressed. Flexing his arms out and stretching, leaning against a wall.

You couldn’t help but stare at his hands, his thick fingers, how you wished he could fill you up and make you pant out his name and-

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts and getting up, “you can have my seat if you want” he was probably exhausted.

“Sit back down” he said, his tone low. You did as he said; a tingle in between your legs at how commanding he was.

“I just came here to get a- snack” he said slowly, smiling as if he wasn’t looking at up and down you when he said that.

“I can make you something if you like” you offered, his tense posture relaxed.

“You’re a godsend, yeah, I’ll take a black coffee” you nodded attentively and got up to make his drink. Focusing on making sure it didn’t spill and stirring it for him.

Turning to him and handing him the drink, he took a sip and set it down on the counter. “Thank you beautiful”

You shook your head, it was nothing, “yeah of course” you laughed nervously, “whatever you need” you told him in a passing tone.

His gaze pierced through you, “whatever I need?” He said, his voice teasing, dripping with desire.

Right then you knew you had made a grave mistake, gulping and looking away. He approached you, his lips so close to your ear, tucking hair behind your ear and letting his fingers brush upon your neck.

God damn turbulence betrayed you, swaying the plane and making you lose your footing and slide right into him. His hand at your waist to keep you upright.

“Now that you mention it” he whispered in your ear. “There was something else…and I’m still hungry” his gentle touches were making you weak at the knees.

You glanced behind him but nobody was watching, you were afraid of what would happen if you were caught, he seemed to notice.

“I’ll be careful” he promised, his head an inch away from being buried in the crook of your neck, and he smelled so good, like this expensive manly cologne.

“We’ll be quick” his words so soothing and convincing you. There was already a feverish throbbing at your clit that you severely needed to attend to. A wave of desperate heat at your lower abdomen that you craved for him to satisfy.

You couldn’t resist this man, he had a mesmerizing effect on you. So you focused on his lustful gaze as he walked you back into one of the bathrooms, locking the door behind him and wasting no time in leaning down to kiss you.

Tim sealed the small space separating the two of you, a knee already in between your legs because of how compact the space was. You let out a few pants at the way he rubbed you, unable to stop yourself even though there might have been people just outside that door.

His kisses passionate and needy, like he had been craving you ever since the moment he laid eyes on you. And everything he did was intoxicating, you were so receptive to him, slick already gathering in your panties as he met your lips in an open kiss and bit down on your lip, nibbling and teasing you,

There was barely any space in that bathroom, moving around and escaping him would be difficult, it almost didn’t give you a choice, but Tim felt so good, you couldnt help but whisper his name in need.

“Oh fuck” he cursed, “your kisses are so delicious” he reached a hand down to your stomach, trailing it down your torso to your most intimate area, replacing his knee and pressuring your cunt gently through your skirt, “I wanna know if the rest of you tastes just as good”

Your breath hitched when he hoisted you on the small counter, your pussy embarrassingly wet at every one of his touches. He spread your knees open and bent down to get to work.

“So this is what you meant by hungry” you said in the middle of the heated moment.

His eyes met yours and you gulped at the mischievous glint swirling his pupils. Feeling a throb at the view of the captain on his knees. “Exactly” He chuckled lowly and pressed his lips to your thighs impatiently, sinking his teeth into your soft skin and leaving marks nobody would know about but him.

You whined, having to bite your lip to stop yourself from letting any lewd noises escape. “Oh god” you whispered, when he finally got to your pussy. It was too much tension, his hot breath lingering where his teeth marks lay, and now- right on your clit.

He hooked his fingers to your panties and brought them down, amused at the wet spot on them. Now there was nothing else below that short skirt. Your body involuntarily bucked forward, and his big hands held you in place. “Impatient are we?”

But he was just as rushed as you, it was supposed to be a quickie in the bathroom not lovemaking. If you wanted to do that later he would gladly lay you down in a proper bed and do so, but for now all he was focused on was your pussy glistening with your juices that he so desired.

Bringing his lips to you and lapping a stripe up your slit before opening you up and tasting you in full. Groaning at the sensation of your sex clenching around his tongue while he fucked you with it.

His fingers digging into your skin to bring you closer to his face and encourage you to ride as wildly as you pleased. You weren’t one to resist, your knuckles white as you held onto a handle on the wall and the roof above you. Praying that the passengers on the plane thought the rough movement was from turbulence and nothing more.

Tim ate like a starved man, in a way you had never felt before. There was no stopping him either, he wouldn’t cease his tongue fuck until he was satisfied, and nothing would please him more than you gushing over him enough to let him know you were ready for something much larger.

Besides, he couldn’t get his eyes off you, he was particularly enjoying making you squirm at the brink of your first release. He liked teasing you this much, it showed him that he held all the power, and you were wrapped around his finger. Technically you were, when he slipped one in and curled it in your soft spot.

His lips sucked at your bundle of nerves hard enough to make you spasm and clench your legs around his head, everything was going according to his plan. “Yeah? Does that feel good?” He asked, taking a breath and dipping another digit inside your dripping pussy.

You struggled to keep your voice bellow a whisper, but he didn’t seem to care about a possible audience. All he was focused on was pulling more of those pretty cries from your swollen lips. “Yes-yes” you repeated.

Your brows furrowing at the pleasure he was providing you with, and Tim himself was getting off at just the taste of you. His cock twitching in his uniform pants, he was painfully hard so he had to take himself out and stroke when you creamed on his tongue.

“You taste so sweet honey” he praised, “I love it when you struggle to speak because I’m making you cum with just my tongue” he smirked. The flat of his tongue once again swirling your swollen clit enough to make you let out a mutter of incoherent nonsense.

Too drunk off the bliss you couldn’t argue back, you didn’t want to. It was like you were in heaven, preforming acts that were so sinful they would have led you to hell.

“T-Tim” you gasped, “I’m close” you warned him, “gonna cum”

Once again he started eating you like you were his las meal on earth, your eyes rolled back in delight. But he wasn’t going to let you get off that easily, you should have known. “Not until you ask for permission”

He pulled his touch away slightly, enough to keep you just at the edge of your orgasm for a bit longer.

“Please” you cried, tears in your eyes. “Can I please cum, captain?”

The man saw the look on your face but just cooed, “you haven’t said my name” he reminded you.

“Captain wright” you babbled “captain wright”, again and again because once you spoke the magic words he just kept going faster. Pumping his thick fingers in and out of your sopping hole hard enough to make you come undone. Crying out for him and gripping onto the edge of the counter to restrain yourself.

“That’s right, just like that” he coaxed, helping you ride down from your climax so perfectly, You were thankful that he was there to hold you steady. Lapping at your release before standing up again and pressing his bare cock to your entrance.

“Gonna need you to beg for this one too” he said, to fuel his ego and also for consent reasons. His lips to your neck now. You had barely managed to come down from such ecstasy before registering what he was asking.

But you were far too gone, your cunt still clenching for him. There was nothing you wanted to do more than to satisfy him like he did you. Nodding and letting a few “please’s” to let him know you craved it too.

“Mhm that’s what I thought”, you could hear the cockiness in his voice, looking down to see if he had the package to back it up but your jaw hug open once you felt it. Prodding at you and letting his precum mix in with your slick.

“‘S not gonna fit” you said in a hiccup, eyes wide and narrowed at his heavy cock that pressed against your slit as you dripped on him. “It’s too big” you squeaked.

“Oh it’ll fit” he panted, mimicking the motions of sex but just grinding himself raw on you. “I’ll make it fit” he hissed. Finally rolling his hips into you in one swift movement. “Fuck” he cursed under his breath, it was quite a tight fit, enough to make him pause because he didn’t want to cum instantly.

A stray groan fell from your mouth but he caught it with his own, meeting you in a heated embrace. His hands on either side of you, pressing prints onto the mirror behind you. He pulled out and thrusted back in, working a good pace. You slowly acclimated to his thick girth with every stroke in your pussy.

Even with the stretch it felt so delicious, your hands clutching his once ironed uniform into wrinkled bunches. There was barely any space in that god forsaken bathroom, but it just gave him the excuse to stay closer to you. That and he just had to give smaller, quicker thrusts.

His big cock splitting you open time and time again, his tip reaching your cervix, thudding against your g spot in a way that made you squeeze him like a vice.

A hand keeping your knee open while he fucked you, practically pounding you. Making you lose your breath and your head go fuzzy. “You’re so tight” he hissed, “practically milking me”

He was panting, pulling out momentarily to turn you around and fuck you doggystyle. Except now, you could see your reflection and his own. The whole image of the captain pounding your pussy till it turned red on full display for you. A grin making its way to his lips, he liked seeing you struggle to fit him fully.

But the look on your face and the way you gripped around him told him that you wanted it, that and those obscene noises you were making every time he hilted. “Thats a good, pretty baby” he rasped, “servicing all your captains’ needs”

You looked at his eyes in the mirror, a pout on your lips from how he was acting. A hand making it’s way to your chin to redirect your gaze to your own body. “Watch yourself” he whispered, his breath hot on your ear.

“Look at yourself while you take all of me” he panted, and you felt yourself melt at the obscenity of his words. “I want you to see how good I’m fucking you”

Doing as he said and feeling his balls clap against your ass, it was almost more unholy to watch your expression and the way he made your body bounce back and forth on his cock.

“Do you see it?” He asked, “that fucked out look on your face from how deep my cock is right now”, a gentle touch at your lower abdomen to press where he was bulging. “Here, all the way inside that slutty little hole of yours” he teased.

It was all too lewd, you felt yourself sizzling with desire, about to burst again if he kept whispering those sweet words in your ear.

“You look so hot when I’m inside of you” he praised. “Mhm with me stretching you out, you’re so hungry for it” he growled. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes sir”, You were struggling to piece together your words, the ones you could were just ‘more- more more more”, so thats exactly what you said.

“Please” you cried “please sir, more”,

Your noises getting a bit too out of control, he had to discipline you. A hand moving to your lips to hold your mouth as he told you to be quiet, but that almost made it worse. Now the sound of the lewd squelch and clapping of balls was the only thing that could be heard along with your muffled groans and pants.

“Shh that’s right” he said, softly. “Just keep taking it, just let me take care of you” you nodded at the finger at your lips telling you to be silent. “stay and let me fuck that pretty pussy just a bit longer.”

You bit your tongue and did as he instructed, trying to hold on but the throbbing at your cunt was aching. “Please captain, let me cum” you whispered.

Meeting his eyes through the mirror and he seemed to relent, it’s not like he would hold on much longer either. You were squeezing him too tight, and he couldn’t pull out too much, there wasn’t any space in that damn little cabin.

His hand gripped the rails to steady himself, the other at your ass to take a handful of. “You’ve been good, go ahead, you can cum” he whispered in your ear.

It felt like such a relief, shivers going down your spine and directly to your pussy. “I’m cumming-“ you warned, fluttering around him as you found your release.

“That’s a good baby just let yourself go” he said in a raspy tone, his fingers digging so deep into your ass there would definitely be marks. “Let your captain take care of you”

Your legs were weak, trembling as he hilted and spilled deep inside of your hole, groaning into your shoulder as he filled you up.

His cock twitching as you squeezed him until his balls were empty. Eventually he pulled out, his release dripping out from your hole and down your legs.

His big hands helped you pull up your panties once again, it wasn’t much help concealing the act, your hair was all disheveled and your cheeks rosy.

His release still inside of you a lewd reminder of what had just transpired on the planes bathroom.

“You did so good for me” he praised, making sure you were good before sending you off.

He put your skirt in place, “welcome to the mile high club” he whispered with a chuckle, “have a safe flight now”

[funtheysaid]

IWTV 2x01 Initial Thoughts (Stream Of Consciousness)

- That title card for Delainey felt very stage play to me (ahhh I adore the theatrical elements for this season)

- Ooh I love the idea that vamps can take on the emotions of whosever blood they’re drinking - it’s like the vampire equivalent of when werewolves can smell ppl’s emotions and fears through chemosignals (a la Teen Wolf iykyk)

- “Disregard” is the funniest shit ever 😂 Oldmaniel they could never make me hate you

- There’s a Real Rashid OMFG ??? Lol imagine he’s not actually Rashid and they pull one over on us again I’d fucking shit myself

- “Your love was in a box” OH MY GOD EAT HIM UP DANNY BOY

- OMG OMG LOUSTAT ITS HAPPENIGN ITS HAPPENING EVERYONE SHUT UP

- I MISS YOU TOO LESTAT

- “Quite fucked” 😏😏😏

- “mon amour” “mon cher” “love” IM GOING TO EXSANGUINATE MYSELF ISTG

- The singular finger on Louis’ chin 🥲 so delicate so soft so bad for my mental health

- I like Emilia

- “They are not used to seeing man with good looks” OKAY I know they’re just racists BUT she also wasn’t lying bc beautiful Louis is canon god bless you Jacob Anderson

- Lol Morgan a little fruity

- OOH memory is a monster! They be redoing scenes as Louis “fixes” his memories !!!! That’s gonna show up again for sure :))))

- “Stupid Halloween costume” Daniel Molloy the brat that you are (is okay, Armand likes brats) *cough cough*

- I’ve never seen someone *elegantly* close an iPad before. Armand, you have bewitched me.

- The fucking sexual tension between DM is stifling 🥵😶‍🌫️ Um if this is us “not getting Devil’s Minion” then I think imma be okay

- Claudia pushing the little racist boy 🤪🥹 we can’t help but to stan

- WTF AMC you can’t just jumpscare me with a Grace photograph :’)))

- “UP YOUR BUM” EXCUSE ME MORGAN I KNEW YOU WERE FRUITY BUT SIRRRR?

- so the makeup department really put their whole sfxussies into that decrepit ass abomination

- Louis: Alexa, play Mr. Steal Your Girl by Trey Songz

- Claudia calling Louis Daddy in S1: ☺️🍭👼 Claudia calling Louis Daddy in S2: 😖🤢😟

- I’m dubbing Louis “The Rat Prince”

- “If he can’t take you ballroom dancing and call you pretty” ICONIC.

- “the motherfucker” it’s on sight Bruce or Killer or whatever the fuck your name was 🤕🥊

- “her hand twitched like yours would” why was that line lowkey out of pocket. My mans has Parkinson’s Louis !!!!

- SHE DREAMS 😭 MY FUCKING GOD STOP MY EYES ARE GONNA BE PUFFY WHEN I WAKE UP TOMORROW

- that wasn’t even acting that was some REAL shit. Get Jacob Anderson his Emmy or Oscar or Tony or whatever the fuck I just need him to be awarded for his talent

- Daniel’s soft compassionate side: rare but that much more meaningful when it makes an appearance

- LOUIS you did not just do Emilia dirty like that TF!?! She helped you dude.

- “Human affairs. Their problem.” Not you listening to Lestat now of all times

- “Catfish with teeth” Louis can really read a bitch to filth can’t he?

- AHHH THERE ARE TWO OF THE FUCKERS 👹👹

- Oh shit he’s a kid okay I’m sorry for calling you an abomination earlier. That was mean.

- Woman vampire, you standing precariously close to that fire 👀

- Delainey’s facial expressions are the perfect blend of innocent and slightly unsettling

- OPP INTO THE FIRE SHE GOES rip 🔥

- What the hell is a bacon triptych am I just stupid don’t answer that

- Armand you ain’t beating the iPad kid allegations

- “It’s his drug” He said that with such malice. Is this a “he needed me but he needed drugs more” plot line???

- So Dubai Loumand is chilly frigid tepid frosty glacial

- Free feet? Okay im sorry

- “We can have him saying what happened next in no time” okay wait hold up why you making it sound like YOU don’t know what happened next and you need him to tell you???

- oh danny boy whistling while the couple he’s counseling walks in… is this a comedy or ?

- Daniel: yeah? 🤓 Armand: yeah 🫦

- “the mother of New Orleans” oh he misses home

- LMFAO Daniel interrupting Armand before he can start soliloquizing

- Louis and Claudia in a truck full of art which they belong in bc they too are pieces of art to me

- hard words. soft words. 🥺

- “a shit life beats no life” god damn this monologue feels like Louis is speaking directly to my soul

- “as long as you walk the earth I’ll never taste the fire” If this is foreshadowing I- I- I don’t know what I’ll do but it’s going to involve a baseball bat and a waffle iron and my head

- “it would be enough” pan to Lestat 💀 you can’t be fucking serious right now you just cannot

- okay it’s over and the teaser for the season just started playing and I just have to shout out the score bc damn if those violins don’t get me every god damn time

(Stutter) That’s all, folks! 🐷👋

[lisenberry]

Don't have a name for this one yet, but this is Part One of Posh!Price, and my third entry in the Summer Love series.

Inspired in no small part by this amazing ask from a few months ago.

NSFW/MDNI/18+

CW: somewhat public sex, Price smokes and drinks, language.

There was nothing John hated more than pomp and fanfare.  Or tiny plates of cold, unidentifiable food.  Or the physical constraints of formal dinner wear.  Give him a waist-deep swamp, a warm MRE, and thirty pounds of gear any day.  Anything but the soul-sucking misery of a back-patting, bureaucratic group wank.

The only reason he was at the gala at all was because he didn’t have a choice.  Well, he always had a choice, in theory.  But in practice, he knew he’d be there the moment you asked him so nicely.  With a glowing smile and the promise that you’d make it worth his time.  He could sit still, and behave, like a good lad.

For a little while, at least.   

Finally, after the third hour of watching your every move from the edges as you made your rounds to financiers and well-to-dos, he refilled his glass of whisky at the open bar and took a fresh cigar to the secluded terrace.  With the full-bodied taste of earthy leather, sweet molasses and crisp cedar settling thickly on his tongue, he reflected on the circumstances that brought him there.

He’d met you six months prior at a product development retreat to introduce a new communication device that would resist both detection and interference in the field.  He’d been skeptical of your credentials at first, but by the time you finished your presentation and answered every one of his biting remarks with ease, he was left impressed with your knowledge not only of the tech, but of the practical application as well. 

You had experience with the weaknesses of the current equipment, and the upgrades would significantly improve not only the efficiency of the tradecraft, but the safety of his team.

He’d sought you out for the rest of the weekend, practically joined you at the hip, as you bonded over your shared combat experience and time at the Royal Military Academy in Sandhurst, although you’d been several years behind him. 

By the end, you’d exchanged numbers and a handful of nights together since.  When he was off mission, and you were in between business travel.  And there was that one wild night in Dubai when your flight paths had crossed clandestinely. 

Neither of you were in a position to make things any more official, but he never turned down the chance to spend more time with you. 

“How’d I know you’d be hiding out here?”  He heard you approach even before you spoke, as you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind. 

“I’ve hit my limit on polite conversation, I’m afraid.” 

John could stay hidden, and completely still in a bush for 24 hours without so much as blinking, all while holding a rifle scope steady on a target kilometers away.  But he’d grown restless to be so near, and yet so far away from you.

“What about impolite conversation?” you countered, slipping a hand lower to where his tuxedo shirt tucked into his trousers.  “Think we could fuck out here without anyone seeing us?” you murmured into the side of his neck. 

Your heels gave you just enough height to reach a bit of exposed skin above the collar of his well-fit jacket.

“Why do you think I chose this advantage point?” he growled with a grin, twisting around to face you and holding his cigar between his teeth.  It freed his hands to pull you closer, enough to feel just how much he needed you and slip up under the slit of your evening dress.

The smoke from it hung heavy in the humid summer air between you. 

You’d told him you didn't care much for cigars before you met him, but that your granddad would smoke the same label in his office when he’d let you sit atop his lap and listen to old war stories.

He'd been too young in WW2, but he'd served after.  The rebuilding in Berlin and the struggles throughout the continent that followed.  The Cold War and later, the troubles in Ireland.  His greatest successes and his deepest regrets.

John didn’t seem to mind that you’d drawn a connection between him and childhood memories of your grandfather, but you'd held off from confessing that it was something even stronger than just a pleasant recollection.  It was a feeling deep in your bones, of when home was a place in the world.  Concrete and unmoving, and yet a soft place to land.  Not just another tumultuous thing to be handled.  

Navigated.  Fixed.

With John, you found comfort again.  Or at least, recognized the possibility.  But still, you pulled the thick roll from his mouth as if it was competing for his attention and claimed his deceptively soft lips and warm tongue in a kiss that was as long as it was deep. 

“I’ve missed you, John.”  One night together was never enough.  Two was always a pleasant surprise, but they were few and far between.  Anything more was wishful thinking.

“I have a short leave starting the week after next.  Are you free?”  He nuzzled the length of his chin along your cheek, unwillingly to sever the connection even as he spoke.  His hands moved circles up along your hips.

“I’m going home for a family thing at our place in the country.  You’re welcome to tag along.”  You’d meant the last part to sound more sarcastic, but your voice hitched as he pressed you against the stone railing and spread your legs to better fit him against you.

“Where is it?”

“Herefordshire.  I was only kidding.  It’ll be horribly...I don’t even know how to describe it.”  

What were the odds that it would be the same area where he’d grown up as well?  In between his time at boarding schools, at least.  He was about sixteen the last time he’d been home.  He understood all too well the stress of returning.

However, he was unwilling to give you up for long. Not when you smelled like gardenias, looked at him so fondly, and clung so snuggly around his waist.

“How can I say ‘no’, when you’ll be there?”  It was his turn to claim your mouth, as he quickly proved just how clever he was at evading detection.

You just had to stay quiet, and not drop his cigar.

[canonicallysoulmates]

I was reading an interview from a couple months back that the SFX makeup artist for IWTV, Howard Berger, did and it's such an insightful and fascinating read. I'm gonna include some excerpts of things that stood out to me but if you're interested in the special effects makeup of this show I highly reccomend giving the full interview a read, I'll link it at the bottom of this post.

Like y'all, they developed individual lenses for each character that changed with their moods that's 🤯

"Berger: One thing Rolin wanted was to go back to the source material regarding the color of their eyes because Anne Rice says what their eyes look like. At first, I was designing other things and I wanted all the vampires to have individual eyes. I didn’t want them all to be yellow eyes or red eyes. So we went back to the source material and did designs on the actors via Photoshop that were more accurate to what she had written. Once that was approved by Rolin, I had this idea to show their emotions, be it hunger or passion — or just ravenous killers. Their eyes would change — not the color, but the sizes, so their pupils dilate and their pupils constrict. Also in the hunger phase, we had lenses for Sam that were also super bloodshot. He’s just drinking the blood and his eyes are filling up. So I really wanted to play with that. With the help of Ted Rae, who was our VFX Supervisor, we were able to design everything so we could actually see the eyes dilate or constrict, and that just made it more animalistic, because animals obviously do that."

And for the blood they made the human blood look different from the vampire blood, and for the big drinking scenes the actors weren't actually drinking any of that blood which makes sense but at the same time it looks so legit:

"There are different bloods in this show. We have human blood and then we had vampire blood, and it actually is a little bit darker and has, like, a pearlescence to it. When they’re drinking the stuff, like in the Dubai sequence, Props had [created] an edible blood that wouldn’t affect them. If they had actually drank the blood we made, it’d be like drinking maple syrup. It would be horrible. We were really careful in the way we designed it because we wanted the blood to stand out and be different. We [also] have dressing blood. That’s [the] blood that just goes on clothing or on the floor. That, you don’t ingest, and we could use pearlescent powders. We did a lot of different blood tests [of] blood spraying out. For the edible blood, we ended up finding metallic cake frosting powder that was edible, so we mixed that in. It’s all these crazy things and you mix that in and then they were able to have that in their mouth and not be sick. [For] any of the big drinking stuff, we faked it, or [else] they would have stomach problems the whole show. They’re such good actors that they look like they’re drinking blood, but they’re not!"

And the way that Rolin describes vampires burning in this series is carbonization so that's how they came up with what Louis burning in the sun would look like.

"That was something Rolin came up with and we kept trying to figure out, like, “how is a vampire gonna burn?” Rolin used a word that made all the sense to me. He said “carbonization.”"

Oscar-Winning SFX Makeup Artist Howard Berger on Creating Blood, Bite Marks, and Beautiful Nails for Anne Rice’s Interview With the Vampire

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Poor wife reader having a bad day and just wanting to be held but Bruce locked himself in the cave to work and her just “I thought having a husband meant I’d have someone to hold me at night” (not in a mad or petty way just a “I’ve had a bad day and so I’m really sensitive and maybe saying things without thinking or filtering them”) and it shooting bruce right in the heart.

I just want to see bruce learning how to be a healthy partner after shutting everyone out for so long

"Are you alright?"

You glance up from your mug, cradled carefully in your hands and force yourself to smile. "Just a long day."

Alfred nodded, "Is there anything-"

"No, I'm alright, thank you. I'm just going to finish my drink and go to bed."

"Very well," Alfred said. "I think Master Bruce is... preparing for a trip if you'd like me to alert him you've returned home."

You shake your head and card your fingers through your hair, "I'll leave him to it. When I called him earlier he seemed... busy." And grumpy. You add silently. And you can't regulate other people's emotions right now. Today was hell. And Bruce was busy. A case he couldn't tell you about.

When you looked back down at your mug, curled around yourself for comfort, Alfred suspected it was more than a long day. You had a full plate. And it seemed like more was added every day. Meetings, appointments, and now interviews and adjusting to having a very public marriage... He didn't envy you.

Or wonder why you might not particularly want company. Just the breif glimpses he's had into your day to day made him wonder how you didn't pull your hair out. So he took his leave. Letting you enjoy some semi silence and a few moments just to have no one speaking to you. And made a mental note to keep more of that particular tea in the pantry. You seemed to enjoy it more than the others. Or at least... you were most familiar with that one. He shuttered to think what would have passed for tea in your house growing up.

____________

When you slipped into the bedroom, rubbing your neck, Brucce looked up from his packing.

He might be going to Dubai as Batman but... Who knew if Bruce Wayne could smooth some things over for him. It happened like that some times.

"I didn't know you were home," he said blinking. "I thought you had a late meeting."

"I wasn't feeling well," you shrug. "I just wanted-" You break off. What you wanted was to curl up in his lap and go to sleep. But. If he was getting ready to go there was no point.

"Sweetheart," he said, frowning slightly, "If this is about earlier-"

"When you hung up on me? No."

"I had another call- Hal-"

"You're a part time super hero. I get it. I just-"

"Spit it out," he prompted, smiling a little. You didn't want to hurt his feelings. And you were tired.

"I just wish I didn't feel like a part time wife."

That hurt. And he tried not to let it show on his face, but it must have. Because you winced and started stammering apologies.

"Oh sweetheart," he sighed. He knew you'd been lonely. Almost from the start. As soon as the honeymoon was over and real life slammed back into focus.

"I know Gotham has to come first. And the the Justice League but I just... I'm sorry I shouldn't have said anything."

He can see you bracing for a fight. That you were reading his body language and it told you he was angry. Yours of experience telling you that he could hurt you. That he could use things you'd told him in vulnerable moments to smack you back in line- and that you're ready to roll over to avoid the pain- and that hurts too.

Because he is angry. But not at you.

All you ever wanted was him. His time. His attention. All the gifts he bought for you were nice. You appreciated them. But all you wanted was a quiet night in, half asleep on his chest.

No diamonds, new cars, or fancy dinners would do that for you. He could hand you his credit card and send you to Paris on a shopping spree and you MIGHT buy something but- more probably you'd just shrug and go look for a stand that sold fresh pastry. It was one of the things he loved about you. You'd learned to march to the beat of your own drum. To love generously. And that's why as you stood there apologizing, all he could do was let the words wash over him.

"You should come first," he corrected.

"Bruce-"

"No listen," he said, crossing the floor to you carefully and taking your hands. "You should come first. And I'm sorry that you can't right now. I'm going to make it up to you-"

"You don't have to," you murmur, looking away.

"Yes, I do," he said, tilting your chin up slowly. "I don't know how. Or when. But I'm going to make this right."

"I'm a big girl, I understand that you have responsibilities-"

"And taking care of you is one of them," he reminded, pulling you against his chest and hoping that he could hug you hard enough to make you understand."And it's an honor. And a privlige. And a responsibility all that the same time. You shouldn't feel like a part time wife, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry-"

"I'm not," he said simply. "Because now that I know there's a problem I can fix it."

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Fake Love Part 1/8

I think this is my best work yet. Y'all don't know what you're in for 😝

Reader is a kindergarten teacher. Nothing more nothing less. But following an accident whistle vacationing in Dubai, she somehow makes her boyfriend believe that she does somthing else for a living, something that earns her way more money than she has. Her boyfriend, Ruben, is just happy to have found someone who understands him so well, someone who doesn't want him for his money since money isn't an issue for neither reader or himself. Or so thinks. Would finding out the truth ruin their newfound relationship? Readers thinks so, and does everything to keep up the lie, although it has some bad people from the Middle East looking for her.

Enjoy!

It all began with a tragic accident. If saving a child from a fire counts as something tragic. No. The tragic part is that it happned on your first week of vacation. First week out of six, meaning you'd spend the rest of that time caring for the burn wound on your thigh. The accident happned in Dubai at the resort that you were staying. The hotel had ended a night with a magnificent firework show for all guests to partake in. However, one malfunctioning rocket sparked flames into the crowd capturing one family in their private tent. Everyone managed to escape except for a young boy. Hearing his cry, you did not hesitate to sprint through the flames, no second thought of what might have happened to you. Those worries came later.

"Mashallah. Bless you woman."

It was strange, being embraced and cared for by strangers. Turns out that the boy you saved was the nephew of a very powerful business man in the Middle East. Both the resort and family thanked you by paying for the rest of your stay, as well as all of your medical bills and any other expenses whilst you were a guest in their country. It did not end there, the family insisted on paying for your flight back home to England, business class of course. And they did not mind for you to make a longer connection in another country. They would pay for your stay there too. That's where your story begins, on a connection flight to Portugal, where you met Ruben.

"Champagne?"

You were on the plane, shifting uncomfortable in your seat, when a flight attendant came down the aisle carrying a trey with two flutes of Champagne.

"Um, we didn't order that?" You said turning to your best friend Alicia. She poked her head out from behind her seat that was more of a private booth. She shrugged, looking equally as confused at the two glasses of Champagne.

The flight attendant smiled, handing each of you a glass anyway. "It's complimentary from Mr Muhammed Siddiq." She said and disappeared with the trey down the aisle.

"Fancy." Alicia said, taking a approving sip of her drink. "So whatever you want he pays for?" She asked, talking about the arrangement that had been made by the family which child you had sacrificed your skin to save.

"Seems like it." You said, although you weren't all that comfortable having a stranger pay for your expenses. Your friend however...

"Sweet." Alicia leaned back in her seat. She pressed the button that would alert another member of the cabin crew, a man this time, dressed in a well tucked suit.

"You called Miss?"

"Yes, can we have a bottle of whatever this is?" She said, raising her glass.

"Alicia." You groaned, slightly embarrassed.

"What? You know I get nervous during long flights. Might as well order a whole bottle of alcohol."

"A bottle it is." The flight attendant nodded. He turned to you. "Anything else for you Miss?"

"Um, no. Thanks."

You waited for him to leave so that you could throw a pillow across the aisle, hitting Alicia in the head.

"Ouch. What was that for?"

"Stop ordering things that we can't afford."

"Maybe WE can't afford it, but Muhammed Siddiq certainly can."

You rolled your eyes.

"Wait until we get to Portugal." She giggled. "They said they got you covered there too, no?"

"Yes, but only for two nights. Until our connection flight back to London."

"Great, enough for us to have some fun."

"Alicia."

"What? You deserve it. Six weeks of our vacation has gone down the drain because you wanted to jump into the flames and save that kid. Now look at you, barley able to sit with all that dressing underneath your skirt."

You tugged at the hemn. Even the draft creeping down your leg was painful to your burns. Alicia noticed the discomfort in your face and leaned forward, grabbing your hand. "You are a hero Y/N. So let's make the best of these two days, you deserve it, even our sponsor Mr Siddiq think so."

You huffed a laugh.

"Now, let's google the most expensive hotels in Lisbon." Alicia pulled up her laptop. You sighed, leaning back in your seat.

"What is there to do in Portugal anyway. Isn't it just ocean and sand, along with perverts in speedos?"

"I dunno." Alicia shrugged, typing away on her computer like the Reddit bully that she was. "Maybe we could book a guided tour around the city."

"I can't walk."

"Right. Rent a car it is."

She typed away, her newfound passion amusing to you. At some point your eyes began to flicker, the last couple of days, catching up to you. Suddenly something blew past your head, grasping the top of it.

"Fuck." Alicia gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

"What?" You sat up, looking where Alicia was pointing towards. "What did you do?" You hissed, since she had that guilty expression you knew too well.

"Your pillow." She whispered. "It's over there."

Alicia's aim was apparently terrible. Your pillow had eneded up in the booth next to you. Alicia must have seen you falling a sleep, wanting to hand it to you. The words hand it to you, not occurring to her.

"Should I get it?"

"I'll do it." You sighed. You needed to stretch your legs anyway.

It was a big plane, with two floors and three seating aisles. Being a passenger of the business class forced you to circle the whole second floor to get a view of the booth next to you. It was great way to obtain once privacy, but boy was the walk painful for a first time burn victim.

"Um, excuse me?"

You were in excruciating pain arriving at the booth next to yours and it did not help that the man assigned to it was chatting away with two other guys seated across and beside him.

"Um, excuse me?"

They ignored you, however you were pretty sure that they could see you standing in the middle of their aisle.

"Excuse me?" You said, raising your voice.

The man in the booth next to yours turned his head to meet your eye, but quickly diverge his gaze back to his friends.

"Oh for fuck....I'm looking for a pillow that flew this way. Have you seen it?"

"You mean this pillow?" One of the guys said, the dark skinned one. He held up the pillow in front of him, letting you have it.

"Sorry." You muttered, visibly embarrassed. "My friend can't aim."

"You mean she has perfect aim." The guys laughed, however not the guy in the booth next to yours. He looked mad, mad at you.

"Yeah?" You said unsure.

"Yeah." They nodded. "She hit my friend Ruben here with a perfect headshot."

You turned to the guy next to your booth, the one they called Ruben. "I'm so sorry." You said and really meant it. He however, continued to treat you like thin air.

"Oh come on Dias, don't leave the girl hanging now. Show her some of that Portuguese hospitality. We're not all perverts in speedos."

You flushed as the guys erupted in laughter once more. Of course they had overheard your conversation with Alicia. And of course they were portuguese. The plane was heading to Lisbon for god sakes. Who else had found your comment utterly offensive You turned your head, expecting a old man in his fifties to ambush you, throwing his purple speedos in your face.

"Nah, we're only joking. Right Ruben?"

The guys looked to their friend, who was still looking at you, well not at you, but somewhere below you.

"What happened to your leg?" He asked. Very blunt of him, you thought.

"Now Ruben, just because a girl is wearing a short skirt doesn't mean you get to be unpolite about it. Let's not fuel her impression of us portuguese. " His friends laughter drew the attention of other passengers, making you crumble with the embarrassment.

"No, I wasn't." Ruben stuttered, for the first time looking other than sure of himself. "I wasn't I swear." He reassured you.

"I know." You nodded. "I've burned myself. It was an accident. The dressing is supposed to mend the pain." You said, although the way your legs trembled told him otherwise.

"Is everything alright here?"

It was the flight attendant from earlier. The one having served you and Alicia Champagne. She had a serious expression on her face, a professional one, as if she had just received urgent complaints from other passengers about a disturbance in row sixteen.

"Um, yes everything is okay, I was just about to..." You turned around, the pillow pressed to your chest. You took a few steps down the aisle but hesitated as there was low whipsers behind.

"....You gotta do it it. Can't you see the way she's walking, she's clearly in pain."

"Come on Ruben..."

"No buts, you can sit with her friend."

You turned around, a frown on your face. "Are you guys talking about me?"

"Um, yeah." The guy called Ruben stood. You tilted your head not having realized how tall he actually was. Nor how built he was. His frame took up the whole aisle. Even the flight attendant had to tilt to the side to be visible behind him. "We were saying that the two of you should switch seats."

"Who?" You frowned. To which Ruben threw his friend a deadly glare.

"Me." His friend sighed, gathering his things to make his seat vacant for you.

"Um, what is going on?"

"You're hurt." Ruben said, not hiding the fact that he was staring at the dressing up your thigh." Our seats are better than yours. Here you can lay dow."

It was true, they did have the better seats. Although the leg room of a business class seat was not to be ungrateful for, laying down is really what you needed to elevate your leg, easing the pain.

"Please." Ruben said, gesturing towards the booth next to his. "My friend is more than happy to switch seats with you. Right Fabio?"

His friend did his best to fix a smile, showing off his bleach white teeth. "Gladly." He gritted.

"Okay." You said, not completely sure what you were agreeing to. However the flight attendant mumbled somthing about having to inform her colleagues. Nevertheless she disspeared whilst Ruben and his friends made the necessary room for you.

"No, leave the pillow." Ruben said, snapping at his friend who was still in the process of gathering his things.

"But she has a pillow." He groaned.

"Yes, and now she has two."

Ruben's friend left his seat looking displeased with life. Wait until he was introduced to Alicia, who refused to advocate for grumpy men.

"Please, have a seat." Ruben insisted once everything was cleared. The guys even made the effort to pick up after themselves, although thier mess wouldn't really effect you.

"I'm Ruben, this is Theo."

The three of you went about shaking hands as you sat back in your seat.

"Nice to meet you Ruben..." You were terrible with names, you thought he had introduced his full name. He looked at you slightly baffled, perhaps shocked that you had already forgotten what it was."

"It's Dias." He said, not leaving you hanging.

"Dias. Ruben Dias." You nodded. "Nice to meet you my name is Y/N  Y/L/N.

He smiled in a slightly amused way. Nevertheless he let you sit back and relax. The conversation having died out. Only then, back pressed to your plane seat, did you realize that you just shook hands with the most gorgeous man you had ever seen.

[dearweirdme]

"I fully understand why Tae's actions bother certain fans so much"

oh 100% that's why they have to tell themselves it's all a lie. like the difference is right in their face but they'll never admit it. tae was in hawaii primarily to work but he wanted jungkook there so he told him to come and he did. jungkook joined him when he didn't need to be there for any obligation. meanwhile jikook also traveled last year, but they did it /for/ work. the purpose of them traveling together was to shoot content while jungkook flew to meet tae just because he wanted to. that says a looootttt even if they don't want to admit it.

let me also clarify that i don't think jikook were forced in any way and im sure they enjoyed their trips but that doesn't mean that the trips weren't created specifically for fan content 🤷🏻‍♀️

Hi anon!

In the last year.. Tae has posted Jk… and only Jk on some very specific moments.

Just before Taennie in Paris; a pic of them after the Dream Premiere.

Just before enlisting; a shirtless and hairless FaceTime screenshot.

During enlistment at a time in which Jkk antics are high. Tae and Jk in Hawaii, with captions that are 🥰.

Tae does this with no-one else! He and Jm are self proclaimed soulmates… and Jm gets nothing! And on top of these very clear moments of Tae singling out Jk, we get these moments. Them together at a hotel after Jk returned from Dubai. Jk singing in the back of Tae’s live. Them going out bowling, going skiing, going to Harry Styles, to a musical, to a premiere, Jk helping Tae with his music, together at Yoongi’s show, having drinks with Hobi, listening to Jm’s music together, Jk being pouty asking Tae were he was at Inkigayo… Tae at Jeju with Jm and Jk during the travel show… like… it’s a lot.. and this is just the stuff we know off.. and it is now clear that we definitely do not know about everything!

And no-one can say it’s only Tae.. because Jk is always there too! Jkkrs can’t attack him for this, because what would that mean for their ideas? So the obvious thing to do.. is blame Tae 🙄.

[weclassybouquetfun]

Tonight is the penultimate episode of series two of AMC+'s INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE.

Well, this isn't ominous at all.

Impressed that months later content from the S2 premiere is still being rolled out.

ALL THE SPOILERS FOR Episode 14 / S2E07

It's fine. It's all fine.

If you've read the books (not me) or have seen the movie (me) or just possess the ability to read between the lines, then you knew this day was coming: The death of Claudia de Pointe du Lac de Lioncourt and her companion Madeleine.

Finally, someone chose Claudia.

They actually made a playbill. The nastiest of nasty work.

There is still a lot to be open to interpretation in regards to motivations and the truthiness of various accounts. Maybe we will get answers in the next episode (how much of a willing participant was Lestat in these deliberations? How accurate was Louis' new recollection of begging Lestat to turn Claudia despite Lestat's warnings?) and maybe we won't (at any time have we seen the real Lestat?)

What I do know is that this cast acts their collective bums off.

What I also know?

They will never make me hate you, maître. You've done nothing wrong, ever.

Even though you leveled your coven with one word, I am sure you could not stop them from putting your lover, his sister-daughter and her companion on trial and subsequent execution.

He was helpless to do anything, you just don't understand!!

Armand was able to control everyone's speech and compel them to say "banishment" and just heaves a sigh of relief for the trouble. Meanwhile, Lestat was wan and bleeding from one ear after mind controlling a room of soldiers.

I still stand by you, Armand. I'm just saying...

-I am inclined to believe Lestat's deviations. You can tell what are Sam's words and what aren't by how Santiago responds and also just how true to form they seem from a character standpoint. I could be very wrong, but I can believe Louis threatened to cut Lestat's head off.

This is Louis who threatened his brother with a knife (which turned Lestat's eye to him in the first place). This is a man who lobbed a veiled threat at Grace during their mother's funeral (and you know it's true because that was from Claudia's diary). Louis was furious in that moment so why would he be expected to hold his tongue and not scrap? As he told Lestat, "You start it, you finish it."

Louis castigated Lestat for choking their daughter. I'm not going to remind him what he did to her when she begged him to let her burn Lestat.

So many people last season were raging because their "Brat Prince" was depicted as a domestic abuser and were sure this season would absolve him. But while we get a fuller picture of the fight, Lestat still did what he did. To me it just adds more clarity on why he stayed away for so long.

The biggest question for me this episode was how long did they workshop Lestat's side? Did the coven plunder his mind or did Lestat readily give them information (they knew about the words "come to me", the killing of the priests, the church kiss, Louis' depression and the house being a shambles. We even see on the projection the raccoon that was roaming their house)?

No matter how they found out the Louis/Lestat details, Lestat is not fully a willing participant in my mind. This man was over it from the jump.

Also, he's stubbled and one thing Lestat de Lioncourt is going to do is be well groomed so those theatre nerds have had him locked away until showtime.

They summoned Lestat while he was drinking his chickory coffee and eating beignets. Classless.

Dreamstat in Dubai feels so wrong.

Spoiler filled interview with Delainey, Roxanne and Jacob after episode 14/7.

Interview with Sam.

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep7 Musings - Loustat Ep4 Revisited (Spoilers)

This one was WILD, my jaw was on the floor. JACOB! SIR ANDERSON! BRUH!?

Santiago doing a deliberately TERRIBLE Claudia voice after we saw his IMMACULATE Louis mimic--I HATE HIM. 🤣

I already tore Lestat a new arsehole for that.

Underneath the distorted Mind Spell audio effect you can barely hear Les say something about "the lies said by Louis;" but the subtitles don't pick it up.

NO, the COVEN wrote that script and did that. Lestat's COMPLICIT only cuz he's tryna SAVE Lou from the mess YOU put them in by selling them out to Santiago, Armand! You stood by and let them be abducted & dragged on stage, when YOU have the Fire Gift! You coulda lit them all up like matches! But you AND Lestat wanted Claudia out of the picture!

Louis finally not wearing black in Dubai; he's in dark blood red. 👀

HOW, if Les cant read your mind? I think SEEING Lestat and hearing his effed up account took Louis back to NOLA--not that Les was doing any Mind/Spell Gifts on Lou, literally taking him back to NOLA. It's a distorted memory, not astral projection or a hallucination.

Lestat like: "WE?" All of a sudden you wanna speak French at me with this OUI?

I couldn't resist, the hands were sending me.

Ohhhh this is SINISTER, making Lou look he manipulated Les. The VOICE Jacob uses is tryna kill me--he sounds so simpering and soft and feminine, no deep bass whatever; they know wtf they're doing. XD Any other network and there'd've been a fullblown sex scene. 😅

Ohhh no, the coven's tryna make it seem like Louis DID know the laws b4 he got to Paris; this isn't Lestat or any true memory; this is the coven talking thru Lestat's script; which wormed into Louis' head.

LOL. Scripted AF.

"He did tell me, what she would be." No, in S1E4 Les realized AFTER she killed the cop that her metabolism would be effed up. Armand told him the Great Laws, but Lestat just laughed in his face. Marius told him not to make vampires as young as Armand, but it had nothing to do with the Great Laws, and Lestat assumed it was just cuz ARMAND'S a poor vampire, in that silly cult. Les & Marius were more concerned about Christianity's effect on vampire moralism/depression/"self-loathing," and Les talked about LOUIS' anxiety--

--but as for Claudia he turned her CUZ HE'S A EFFING BRAT who only ever does what HE wants to do, eff anyone else.

I nearly had heart attack, thinking the coven was gonna say Louis' her Maker--the LAUGH I was gonna make, omg. 🤣 Cuz the humans can't call them on that, cuz what do THEY know about maker/fledgling blood and not being able to read minds?

The coven has her diaries when she said this, so I think this was all scripted; not something he really said--though ofc he could've read it in her mind when he rescued her, and genuinely felt this way, cuz ofc he would--he wanted/needed her to think he was a good person.

I DO wonder if a bit of this was true, about Louis feeding Claudia his blood, cuz these AMC's vamps are wildly inconsistent about healing. Their blood has strong healing powers--as we see in S2E5 when Armand fed Louis after his suicide attempt by fire, and in Ep6 after his suicide by slitting his wrists after making Madz. So ofc Louis might try to heal Claudia by bleeding on her & letting her drink.

These 2 frames back to back are precisely Louis' issue--he don't know wtf is going on. U_U

☝️ THIS!. ALL OF THIS! ☝️

Louis' GUILT is why the memories are all muddled; why he's doubting his own recollection, on top of the literal brainwashing from Armand & the forced Mind/Spell Gifts put on him by the coven.

Dragged on the EFFING FLOOR, the coven is WICKED! 🫣 This is when I knew those dirty heifers were LYING. And Claudia can't even corroborate this, cuz she was in & out of it when she was turned.

She is staring Louis DOWN, but sweetie, he's as lost as you are.

This is hilariously & deliciously & salaciously melodramatic; Imma slap Vampire Sam for writing this script--he'd've loved writing fanfiction on AO3.

NGL, I expected that hand to start veering a few degrees over if you know what I mean. 🍆 Lou's face was in PRIME position to do him some face. (The fanfics finna go CRAZY.)

Welp, my fears were well-founded. The coven is SPITTING all over their history.

PLEASE do the "evil of my evil" line, AMC! 🙏 This democracy of hypocrisy ain't finna do that. Sit your French White arse down on the red velvet throne AR gave you in the Prince Lestat trilogy, and STFU.

I don't think Lou did; he was very candid in S1 about how he cried & pleaded, and Les saying she'd be their daughter. The important difference is the inclusion about the Great Laws, and how that implicates them. It doesn't matter that Louis already knew she'd be stuck 14 forever & didn't care--if he didn't know Lestat was 100+ and stuck 34 forever, then he's a fool. Wanting an eternal child to baby & pamper & dote on is way different from intentionally breaking the law.

No love, that's the guilt talking! They were scrambling your brains RIGHT THERE ON STAGE; take this with a grain of salt; 74 years have provided A LIBRARY OF CONFUSION!

Daniel, stfu for once; why would you see this as having ANY "clarity." This is the most muddled portion of the trial thus far!

[myoddessy]

🍰 for Dad!KSI of how he would be while taking care of his daughter while his wife/gf is out on a girl's trip and she comes back to see both father and daughter all happy but the house in a mess 😭

hi!! sorry for the wait, i lowk hate this but i hope it's okay 💞

with a glass of champagne in your hand and a calming breeze in the air, to say you were in nirvana right now would be an understatement. "you alright, babes?" faith asked, running her hand through the water and throwing her other arm around your shoulder, resting on the edge of the hot tub.

"mhm. just miss them, i guess." you rested your head on the crook of her neck. "i get you." she leaned her head on top of yours. "i'm worried i'll miss something important. like, what if she starts talking while i'm away!" faith laughed.

"i know what you mean, hun. but if jj and ethan get to go to dubai and all that, we can go to france for a weekend." she rubbed your arm. after another sip of her champagne she spoke again, "i just hope they haven't burned our houses down."

"ethan, man, I've got shit on my arm, what the fuck!" ethan cackled loudly at jj over the phone.

"that's what happens if you try change a nappy with one hand, you nob." jj could faintly hear olive gurgling happily on the other line. "wipe it off and finish fixing your kid, geezer."

"alright." jj nodded to himself. "man this is so fucking gross." he threw the nappy in the bin and picked his little girl up, gently bouncing her as she giggled freely.

"wonder what the girl's are up to." ethan mused.

"chatting shit 'bout us, any money." jj laughed. he looked around the sitting room and the toys he'd stepped over to make it to the couch without breaking his neck. "mate is your place a mess too?"

ethan did the same, barely having to turn his head before he saw a pile of baby blankets and toys. with a deep inhale he replied, "yeah."

"swear i'll twist my ankle on some building block legos the second i step foot through the door." you sighed, looking over at faith who was getting a massage during your facial.

she laughed. "oh, definitely. wonder if ethan remembered which baby blanket she likes or if he brought down all of 'em."

"i really needed this trip. i haven't felt like a normal person since the second trimester." you smiled at the dermatologist who handed you another drink while your face mask set.

"genuinely. glad it's you i got to be normal with, babe." she winked at you.

jj was passed out on the couch, your little girl sprawled out on his chest, drool escaping from the corner of her mouth and seeping through his shirt. he held her up with one hand, while the other laid across the back of the couch.

she woke with a start, screaming into his ear and making him jump. in a blind panic, jj reached for his phone, about to call you until he saw a notification from you from an hour ago—a picture of you and faith at a corner cafe with pastries too beautiful to be eaten and coffee cups twice the size of your daughter's face, and he decided to put the phone down and handle it himself.

he stood up slowly, rocking his baby as he did so, and humming some nursery rhyme that had gotten stuck in his head over the past two days. slowly but surely, she began to calm down. her eyes that were previously sealed shut now opened to look up at him in soft wonder and her lips bore a smile that he swore melted him then and there.

you stepped out of the taxi and gave faith a hug, telling her to text you when she got home. you grabbed your bags and made your way up to the apartment, a sense of excitement growing in you.

you braced yourself when you got to the door, nudging the key in the lock and stepping inside. the first thing you saw was the mess. the stacks of legos and dolls and teddies and baby books that jj had undoubtedly tried to read to her before declaring them too boring and tossing them to the side.

then you heard her laugh and your head snapped to the sofa where she sat bouncing in his lap while he held her hands and made funny faces down at her. you quickly snapped a photo before walking towards them, knowing this was the only way you wanted to live your life.

[lacefedora]

Eyes in the Dark, Devils Minion Armandaniel

for @miwadake who requested Armand stalking Daniel post turning.

sorry this one took me a little while I was away from home -

Daniel can tell he's being watched. To be fair, he could tell when he was mortal too. They were good instincts to have as a reporter. Especially in war zones and the like. But this was different. At first he just thought it was wishful thinking. Louis was fuckin' right... the bond between maker and fledgling was very real. Visceral in a way that he hadn't been expecting.. He had felt Armand's eyes boring into him before, but now, Daniel could be walking through a crowd of hundreds but he knew it was him watching. He would talk to him sometimes. He knew Armand could hear him. He never heard from him directly though. No matter what shit Daniel said to bait him. And he had said a lot of shit to bait him.

Tonight though. Tonight he saw him.

It was just his eyes at first. A flash red-orange eyes in the dark, reflecting the light like a panther's. Daniel's seen his own eyes do that as well. It's a fucking weird thing to witness in yourself... But he immediately knew it was him. He had spent a long time looks at those eyes in those weeks in Dubai. Then he sees dark curls passing by him and he turns, Armand is gone before he can turn fully. He spends the rest of the night chasing shadows, trying to catch up with him. Finally he makes himself stop, starts looking for a meal instead. He bites his tongue, wishing he could scream at Armand. Either in his head or in person. He takes a breath... He wouldn't give him the satisfaction. If he wanted to be a fucking creeper instead of talking to him that was his priority. It's simple enough to find someone to eat. Though he knows he'll have to be fast. He manages to lure his kill to an ally. He was in New York. It really shouldn't have been that easy. As he bites down he's so caught up in the euphoria of the blood on his tongue that he doesn't notices the other presence at first. There's movement and then Armand is just *there*. He's picking up Daniel's dinner's wrist and biting down on it. Daniel jolts back from his own bite when he sees him. "Holy shit man." He snaps at him. "What in the fuck, Armand?" He demands. Armand doesn't let got of his hold on the wrist. He just shifts, looking at Daniel and raising a brow as if to say 'why did you stop?'. "You... are such an asshole." Daniel says but dammit he is hungry. He leans in to drink more blood. He didn't want the fucker to keel over before he had the chance to drink his fill. Drinking from the same victim is an odd and intimate experience. Fuck Louis was right about that too. With the two of them drinking, it's a simple thing to drain him. Daniel pulls back, breathing a little heavy. His heart pounding, face flushing with the new infusion of Blood. He turns and finds Armand staring at him. Daniel stares back not sure where to start.

Armand reaches out and touches Daniel's face. His thumb swipes over Daniel's chin, then his lower lip. It takes Daniel a moment to realize Armand's gathering blood that he had spilled when he pulled back the first time. He's uncomfortably aroused when Armand licks the blood off his thumb.

"Dawn is close. Go home. I will dispose of the body." Armand tells him.

"Oh fuck no. I'm not leaving unless you swear I'll see you after I wake up. Otherwise I'm not letting you out of my fucking sight, Maker." Daniel growls. Armand looks tense at being issued an ultimatum. He would wait. Even if it meant racing the sun. He had left himself enough time to get home.

"I swear you will see me tomorrow after you wake." Armand says finally. Daniel curses softly, then nods. He steps back, heading to his apartment before dawn.

The next evening he finds no Armand in his apartment... disappointing. But he does see red-orange eyes down the ally he passes... baby steps.

[femoso-seben]

Ok since you answered to my comment that you would do a 3rd part then can I ask for a third part of "Working With a Legend" but now it's Ghost and Price working with her and experiencing it for themselves why she is such a legend

You don't have to if you don't want too!

I hope you have a good day!

Sorry for the late reply luv I was a little stuck on the story and bogged my school. Laswell walks in and you get up walking over to the table, waiting for the next easy mission. You see everyone looks at the photo of a man, racially ambiguous, brown if you will.

“This is Lazarus—” Laswell points to the photo. You let out a long sigh and a string of curses. Everyone turns to you, intrigued by your behavior.

“You know something,” Ghost said looking down at you.

“Lazarus… don’t bother trying to kill him.” You wave your hand walking back to the couch and lying down.

“Why?” Price asks.

“Because Lazarus isn’t a person.”

“What does that mean?” You look up and focus on them before laughing and closing your eyes.

“Lazarus is a title, I’ve killed the last four of them, someone always new takes over.” You explain Lazarus is a criminal organization, one that you know very well. Under the thin layer of society, a crime world exists.

“Do you know where Lazarus is?” Laswell asks, you raise your head and slightly nod. “We aren’t going to kill Lazarus we need information from him.”

“You’ll lead the mission,” Price said to you and you nodded getting up and stretching out. “Ghost and I will accompany you.

Great… the two officer ranks….

You all board a military heli you would rather do a commercial with everyone else, and blend in with the crowd but you can’t complain about a nice military heli that can get you far.

“What’s our first move?” Ghost asks, looking at you.

“We’ll find their little paws.”

“What?” Price said leaning in.

“Lazarus is a crime thing, you need to find their little paws and tails before finding the rat… you two should change to fit the tourist part.” You explain and look out at the city below you.

Dubai is a beautiful place, a place with no natural culture and slavery. You walk out and begin looking for the shady-looking person, the little rats that run this city. Your eyes caught on a little boy, who looked homeless.

You walk up to them speaking Arabic, the child looks at you wearily before you pull out a small metallic card with the Lazarus symbol. The child nods and gestures for you to follow, and you do so.

Price and Ghost follow after you and soon you are at a nightclub where tourists are dancing and influencers posting photos, in all a perfect place to traffic people. There sitting at a table was Lazarus.

“Here you go, I’m gonna get some alcohol,” he tells Price before walking off. Something felt wrong and you were pretty sure they could feel it too. You get your drink, vodka in strawberry juice. You look around and see Lazarus’s bodyguards.

You slowly make your way towards these men and take them out, dragging them to the back and striking them in pressure points. you reach into your back cuffing their hands and legs together. Soon it was just Lazarus.

You make your way back to the table to find the three men in a heated discussion. You sat down at the table and smiled at the new Lazarus. He looked at you rather annoyed by your presence.

You reach into your bag and put four bullets onto the table a small veil threat. It took this new Lazarus a minute to realize what this meant. “L likes to send their regards.” You said in a feminine tone like you're a hired woman to do so.

This man instantly begins to sweat and try to get up but it wasn’t easy with both Ghost and Price sitting on either side of him. He looked around and found out all his guards were gone, you took care of that.

The three of you took him away to a more private place. Away from prying eyes. They interrogated, and you sat back and watched as the man squirmed and shouted slipping into Arabic every other sentence. You sit back and open your work phone, the US government didn’t say you're exclusive to them, you gaze down at your phone and see a new buyer.

It was rather fortunate that you were in the right place for this mission, the death of a Saudi Prince, a familial struggle, if you may have. You get up and slink off going to your weapon stash, changing outfit you hail a cab for the exclusive party. You have a strong suspicion this job was also in play to eliminate you in the process. You look down at the little bottle of poison and hide it in the heels of your shoes. You put on enough makeup to look like you belong at the party.

You moved in stayed long enough to look like you belong, and found the cup the prince is drinking from. You gaze around to see if anyone is watching him. Several people are watching him, besides his guard a mysterious person, that one was meant for you. You walk up to him striking up a conversation flirtling a little bit acting like a foreigner. Enough for them to let their guard down. You quietly maneuver them into a corner knock them out, and set them on the ground as if they are drunkenly sleeping.

You added a small bit of poison into the prince’s cup, he’s a man, he wouldn’t be thinking about being drugged nor about protecting his cup. You used the crowd to hide yourself the way the crowd flowed back and forth tricking the camera. You even gave a drink to another person, and yourself before leaving. At most, you were there for an hour.

“Where were you?” You look up to see Both Price and Ghost looking at you like you are a deadly viper, you give them a coy smile and wave your hand dismissing them.

“Did you get what you need?” You ask them. They shook their head.

“Then let me.” You walk past them there Lazarus is covered in blood, they are playing dirty and violent. You quietly spoke to Lazarus, bringing up your history and who you were. The veiled threat of the four bullets in between your fingers.

He spilled.

BANG!

You kill him leave four printless bullets in his lap and walk to the two.

“Let’s head out.”

[hua-cheng-silver-wrath]

plotted starter for @tosaveaforest

"Have you ever seen anything more beautiful than this?"

"Be quiet they will hear you"

As always gossip would start, whenever young Don entered his favorite nightclub. A night club full of smoke, drugs, and God knows what else, as he walks slowly, gracefully to his favorite spot, he walks as if he owns it all and he does. A man of Asian heritage. He can still pull an innocent smile, a face of a thousand dreams and nightmares. Always looking serious or bored, that mask only cracks on the edges when this slender tall man shows. Only then that face is a dream.

Hua Cheng's right hand, his unlikely ally. His perfect enemy, he turned and faced the nightmare - proof that not everything is always as it seems. A cop who was supposed to infiltrate and put down Hua Cheng did unthinkable...

Joined together sitting like that a true epitome of beauty of danger of lies and deceit of blood and death. Hua Cheng always had this presence this demanding stance. Face shaped like the edge of a sword by time and experience, eyes filled with wisdom and cruelty. Xie Lian learned to respect him understand him, trust him, and ultimately love him.

Xie Lian sits close to Hua Cheng it looks intimate and yet reserved close just enough for wondering eyes to look, to gossip. The older leans in whispering something to the younger. Hua Cheng just lowers his gaze down leaning closer to hear, and a soft smile blooms over his face. Slender long fingers of Hua Cheng touched Xie Lian a hand of a pianist and artist. Yes, that is what he wanted to be, for what he schooled himself. Yet his fingers never got a chance to play and bring joy to people, his hands kill people. The only music they play is the sound of ringing and ricochet of bullets, and screams of dying people, instead of clapping hands and praises for the pianist. Blood became the paint for his canvas.

One night in Dubai… the name of the club when they escape reality, sitting in the far corner, leaning in a soft booth seat. Their table was littered with drinks, blue lights dancing in empty glasses.

Hua Cheng caresses Xie Lian with his gaze as if touching him, and every time as if it were the first. Death can take them tomorrow, they had no time to lose. So many long years of taking, and giving…. these moments are what keep them alive.

Have you ever seen anything as beautiful as this? Gossip went on. Beauty in death, love in hate. A cruel heart of a murderer able to love…

But this is the middle of the story we should start from the beginning. Where Hua Cheng was a street rat a meat for anyone. The Mafia was after him police were after him and still he endured. His story begins at a very young age when a power struggle inside the mafia clan where he was born. it finally erupted to the breaking point in which Hua Cheng's parents lost their lives. That left Hua Cheng alone and defenseless. The unruly child disappears into the shadows, beaten up and bloody, probably dead like a rat on the streets. Or that is what Jun Wu thought not so long ago. Someone helped him. Ten years later, Hua Cheng reappears with a small gang of brutes by his side chipping at the edges of Jun Wu's empire. Making strategic moves. He turns the tide in his favor with his head held high, his battles won not through brute strength only. He swore with his blood that he would make them pay Jun Wu and this city.

Making trouble now earned him sitting in a police station facing some nerdy cop Xie Lian was it. He made a neutral facial expression. If this cop thinks he can break him with his talk or threats of spending nights in the cell he is in for a big surprise.

"So what is going to be? Am I under arrest or what?" Young and impatient still, this copp was more kind to him than anyone else in his life ever was.