#DO YALL HAVE ANY IDEA OF HOW INSANE THIS IS?!?!?!?!?!?!?

[slytherinslut0]

☆○o slytherinslut0’s blog rules

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do not repost, republish, or redistribute my work anywhere without my consent. all my work belongs to me.

in regard to requests:

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when sending a request:

going forward i’d like to ask anyone that sends in a request to please categorize it by including the following:

blurb / drabble — if you’d like something short; please specify that in your request :)

full fic — if you’d like a whole fic surrounding your idea, please mention that in your request :)

a lot of times i get hung up on requests because i’m not sure how much detail yall want me to give (no fault of yall, just my own insanity lol) so i feel as though this would help me immensely. 🤍

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i don’t have very many rules, quite frankly i can’t think of anything to put here other than the two topics i know i will not write for, and those are:

noncon.

incest.

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☆○o this will be updated frequently.

[willsimpforanyone]

Hi first of all LOVE YOUR WORK KEEP IT UP!!

Second, could you (pretty) please write soft dom leo x sub reader where she’s had a long day and allows Leo to like, ‘try anything’??

If not that’s okay. Xoxo<33

okay i missed posting yesterday, me and schedules apparently don't work but! i'm gonna try write this fast before my grandma comes round lmao lets goooooo i'm gonna try writing in 2nd person, let me know if yall like it or not

this is smut so mdni! warnings: she/her pronouns for reader, cockwarming, softdom!leo, ig somnophilia? idk this got away from me like a rabid squirrel

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

The sofa has never felt more comfortable. Your body falls limp onto the cushions, head pillowed on Leo's thighs as your eyes close against the low light in the living room.

Leo hums, setting down his phone and carding a warm hand through your hair. "Hey, gorgeous," he smiles down at you, taking in your exhausted appearance. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," you mumble against his jeans, relaxing minutely at the soothing touch. "Do I have to do a job? Like, is it entirely necessary?"

"Nope." Leo grins down at you with a raised eyebrow. "Quit. Be my housewife, just lay around all day and let me love on you when I get home from work and give you presents."

You laugh tiredly, rolling so you're on your back with your face looking up at Leo. "In this economy? I'm just whining, babe, I'm just... tired, y'know? Everything was on my nerves, I felt like I was going insane."

"Well..." Leo begins, a finger delicately tracing the side of your face. "I can think of a few ways to help with that."

The temptation is there, interest simmering low in my gut, but you can just about keep your eyes open. You shake your head softly, apologetic eyes looking up at Leo. "I'm actually exhausted, honey, I don't think-"

"Then don't think." Leo cuts you off, gentle but firm as his finger traces down your neck to the neckline of your top. "Don't think, don't speak, don't worry, okay? Let me take care of my girl."

He says it so sincerely, eyes both wanting and earnest, and warmth starts to pool in your stomach at the idea of not having to do anything, just letting Leo touch you and make you feel good without any effort.

With a small but excited smirk, you bite your lip. "Well, I'd have to be crazy to turn that down."

"You are crazy," Leo teases, gently moving out from under your head to scoop you up off the sofa. "But you're my crazy, now shh, I'm busy."

Holding you in his arms, Leo makes his way to the bedroom and gently places you on the bed. With dexterous fingers, he undoes and pulls off your clothes, leaving you in your underwear on the bed. He ignores your questioning look when he leaves that on, instead finding one of his t-shirts and pulling it over your head.

"How can someone be so cute and hot at the same time, hm?" he murmurs, more to himself than you. He leaves you on the bed and returns from the bathroom with makeup remover, kneeling between your legs as they hang off the bed.

"Close your eyes, baby."

He carefully takes off your makeup, pressing kisses to your bare skin whenever he finishes with an area of your face. "There, now you can go straight to sleep when I'm done with you."

"That is the sweetest way anyone has ever told me they're going to tire me out," you laugh quietly, absently fiddling with the hem of the t-shirt.

Leo frowns, pressing a finger to your lips. "Shh, no talking; my girl has been talking all day, that voice is for moans and telling me if you want to stop, understand?"

You nod meekly, smile on your lips as you press a kiss to the tip of his finger. He smiles proudly, kissing your forehead in return. "Good job, baby."

His hands cup your face, bringing you into a sweet kiss that quicky turns heated. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips, groaning softly as you relent under the touch. You're pushed back onto the bed, Leo removing his hands from your face to move you backwards to he can join you on the bed, lips and tongue still moving against yours.

With one hand, he holds both of your wrists above your head, the other hand beginning to roam your body like he's learning it all over again. Leo's thumb finds one of your nipples through the fabric of the t-shirt, teasing lightly at it until it hardens and pokes against the material. He mirrors the action on your other breast, his lips trailing down your jaw just to he can hear the sweet gasps and moans that he was muffling with his mouth.

"So pretty," he breathes against your ear, leaving your hands above your head as both his hands grope and knead at your breasts, a smirk pressed against your jaw as he pinches your nipples lightly and making you gasp in surprise.

"Leo-"

He makes a disappointed sound, and pinches one of your nipples harder. "What did I say about talking, hm? You're not so tired you can't remember simple instructions, are you? I know my baby doesn't want me to spank her, right?"

Closing your mouth promptly, you shake your head quickly. Leo rewards you with another forehead kiss, his hands moving away from your chest to glide over your clothed waist to your hips.

"That's right," he hums, fingers hooking into the elastic of your underwear and dragging it down to throw it in the direction of the laundry basket. Bringing one hand back up, he taps two fingers against your lips. "Open."

Obediently, you part your lips, making a soft noise of surprise as Leo pushes three fingers into your mouth. He ignores it, pressing against your tongue and coating his fingers in spit before he pulls them out.

"Good girl," he whispers, kissing your still-open mouth and licking at the saliva covering your lips. The three spit-slick digits disappear from your sight, but rapidly draw your attention as Leo slips them between your legs.

"So wet for me," he coos, cupping and rubbing your folds and spreading the mix of your spit and arousal around your entrance.

Without warning, he shoves all three fingers inside you. You cry out and grip the sheets above your head, eyes wide as he pumps his hand in and out rapidly. His free hand cups your cheek, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone.

"Shh, shh, I wanna get you ready quickly, okay? I know it's a lot, but you can take it, can't you? Sweet girl, you look so gorgeous, my little hardworker all turned on and needy."

His fingers press in as deep as they can go, and he just holds them there, keeping them still as he pulls his hand away from your cheek and works on undoing his jeans. With one hand, he undresses his bottom half, cock freed from his underwear and slapping against his top. It leaves a tiny damp spot of precum staining the fabric, and your mouth waters at the sight.

Leo laughs as you lick your lips, curling his fingers inside you to bring your attention back. "You'll get my dick, babe, just not in that pretty little mouth."

He withdraws his fingers from you, and wraps his hand around his cock with a soft hiss. Stroking himself slowly and lazily, Leo manhandles you onto your side, coaxing you to lay your head on the pillows as he settles in behind you. He shifts so your hips are aligned, his free hand lifting your leg a little so he can nudge the head of his cock against your opening.

"Relax for me, gorgeous," he whispers, peppering kisses at the back of your neck as he sinks inside you, pushing his way into your tight, hot pussy with a low, throaty groan.

Your eyes flutter closed with a long, needy moan, pushing your hips back as he fills you up inch by inch until you can feel his hips flush against your ass. He pauses there, burying his face in your hair as he breathes slowly and deeply to get used to the feeling of you around him.

After a minute, Leo sighs, shifting a little to get comfortable. "There we go, baby, now you can sleep." You lay still for a second, mouth opening and closing, your desire to do as you're told and not talk warring with the desire to know what the fuck he's talking about.

Leo, knowing you inside and out, huffs a laugh against your shoulder, kissing it sweetly. "You heard me, sweet girl. You're gonna take a nap, and you're gonna keep my cock nice and warm for me." His arm is slung over your waist, his hand splayed over your stomach to keep you close.

Slowly, you nod. You're still exhausted, despite his actions, and it's... kinda nice, having him so close, warming you inside and out. Leo shushes you gently, arranging your arms and legs so you're comfy, both of you settling into the bed.

It's all too easy to doze off, your eyes fluttering closed again and your breathing evening out to match Leo's steady, rhythmic movements of his chest.

Leo is kind of proud of himself, having lulled you to sleep stuffed full of his dick, cuddling you close as you keep him warm and snug inside you. He can feel himself beginning to fall asleep too, and he buries his face against the nape of your neck with a content sigh.

You wake up slowly, groggily, your body rocking slightly as your surface from sleep. A soft, sleepy and slightly confused moan falls from your lips, and Leo answers with a sharper thrust of his hips.

"There you are," he purrs, his hands now gripping your hips as he fucks in and out of you. "You were pretty deep asleep, baby, laid so nicely for me while I used you."

The words and movements send pleasurable heat curling in your stomach, pussy fluttering around his cock as you surrender to the feeling without a moment's hesitation. Leo kisses and nips gently at your neck, one hand slipping down to gather some of your arousal on his fingers and beginning to circle your clit.

"That's it, just relax," he whispers, voice carrying a shaky edge as he nears his climax. "Let me take care of you, gonna make you feel so good, baby..."

Everything is hot and hazy, your mind only able to pay attention to the way Leo's cock bumps against that particular spot inside you every time he pushes back in, over and over and over. Pressure builds in the depths of your gut, your toes curling as Leo's fingers coax more and more sweet, half-awake noises from you, feeling your walls convulsing around him.

"You gonna come for me?" he pants, a needy, desperate sound that spurs you on. "Gonna come all over my dick, gorgeous? Yeah, I know you are, I can feel how close you are, baby, come for me so I can fill you with my cum."

It only takes a few more seconds before the tension in your body reaches a tipping point, and your lips part in a broken sob as you come around his dick. Leo murmurs praise into your ear, fucking you through it as he chases his own orgasm.

"Did so well for me, sweet girl, fuck, feels so fucking good when you come, looks so pretty- you're gonna let me come in you, yeah? Let me fuck you full of my cum like a good girl?"

You nod languidly, deliciously hazy and spent and wanting nothing more than to feel Leo finish inside you. He cuddles you closer, arms wrapping around your waist as he fucks inside you in a last few disjointed thrusts.

"O-Oh, fuck, yes, feels so good, baby, oh, my sweet girl, I'm coming, I'm coming-!"

Leo presses a guttural moan into your shoulder, his body trembling as he finishes inside you, painting your insides sticky-white. You groan softly, oversensitive but satisfied as you feel him fill you up.

Panting hard, Leo slowly comes down from his high, stroking your soft skin anywhere he can reach. He clears his throat, nose dragging against the back of your head. "How're you feeling, gorgeous?"

Breathing a laugh, you find one of his hands and lace your fingers with his. "Good. Better."

"Mm, good," he mumbles, pressing a smile against your hair as he squeezes your fingers. "...food?"

You grin, even as he gently pulls himself out of you. "Definitely."

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

and with 7 minutes to go before grandma arrives, i'm done! nearly 2 hours and i cannot tell if this is good or bad at this point, it completely got away from me, but i hope you enjoyed!

[devilith]

you know what yeah thats my bad, thats on me. i have seen literally so many genuinely atrocious takes about the new feature (not just on here but on twitter and instagram and even youtube) where people are outright posting abuse and harassment toward the staff members and official accounts. like no exaggeration, actual death threats to the people who are literally just doing their jobs and dont even make the decisions to add or remove content from the game

my response was aimed at the fandom in general (because believe me, a huge number of people are doing WAY too much right now, like the overreaction is so extremely dramatic) and it was just by chance that this specific post is the one that came across my dash and get used as a jumping off point. i will take the L on this one cause yeah even though thats the entire point of reblogging and responding it probably wouldve been better to make my own post. i really wasnt directing anything at yall personally its fr just frustration and disbelief at the state of the fandom itself

like i have never in my life played a gacha game where SO MANY PEOPLE have no idea how gachas work. or worse, straight up despise the most common and basic gacha mechanics. the fact that so many people are sending literal death threats to all the official social media accounts and making posts about how solmare should fire the entire staff and no one who works there deserves any money, is just outrageously entitled and unhinged

totally cool if you (general you) dont wanna buy anything from the shop, most people dont spend lots of money on gacha all the time. but acting like solmare has sent hired goons after you to personally mug you at gunpoint for your entire life savings is insane

I absolutely HATE the OM update

like wdym we have to pay for romance in a dating sim

[bastardbeewoman]

I truly am loving all the dungeon meshi ship fics but I for one CANNOT wait for when the canaries make their anime debut and people get to know them, because I am STARVING for more fics regarding whatever codepent insane polycule and/or found family dynamic all of them have with each other

[kaeyachi]

Pyromaniac Kaeya instead of Pyrophobic Kaeya HC for everyone's consideration:

- Young Kaeya who saw fire and just went "light pretty". His birth father scrambling every time to keep Kaeya from touching open flames

- soon found out how to make fire on his own and now his father is scrambling to stop him from doing so

- hates rain coz no fire! >:( Oh, and his father left him in the rain, right. But mostly coz of no fire!! >:(((((

- ...his father actually waited for a storm to make sure no fire occurred when he left Kaeya

- Crepus approaches a shivering child in the storm, and the child just reaches for him. Turns out Kaeya thought his hair was fire and wanted to touch

- When Kaeya woke up in a warm bed and saw the color red, he thought he died and went to Celestia somehow, turns out it was just a young Diluc staring at him too closely oops

- Kaeya is so envious! He really wants red hair too! (to look more like a Ragnvindr, he swears!)

- When waking up early, he goes to Adelinde to watch her cook food on preeetttyyy fffiiirrreeee

- Started a vineyard fire once. Good thing the staff saw on time before it could do any damage. He wasn't scolded too heavily, but he felt really bad after scaring everyone, and tbh that is the only reason Dawn Winery stands to this day (with several close calls)

- Kaeya, after Diluc got his pyro vision,  enjoyed the fire when they were fighting side by side

- He'd stick really close to Diluc while fighting to the point that Diluc actually subconsciously learned to make his fire avoid Kaeya

- Diluc had to purposely will his fire to aim at Kaeya in their fight :(((

- Diluc is horrified because he sees Kaeya stare straight at the fire unflinchingly :(((

- Kaeya gets his vision, and he finally realizes it was actually raining because suddenly it feels very very cold. Damn he really hates the rain

- he actually wished it were a pyro vision instead and thought that being given a cryo vision was just punishment and added suffering

- for the short time Kaeya stayed in the Dawn Winery while Diluc was away, he actually sat dangerously close to the fireplace. It worried Adelinde and Elzer who kept a careful eye on him

- in his own room in the KOF dormitories, he'd hold onto Diluc's vision to keep himself warm- the underlying power of pyro making him feel safe and happy

- when Diluc's vision started flickering, Kaeya went on a panic. He's scared the fire would be gone forever. Thankfully it ended up ok after a couple of hours, but he hid Diluc's vision on him for a while instead of leaving it in his room

- He was a bit bitter to be parted with said vision when Diluc returned. He decided to be a bit more extra annoying with how he gave the vision back to Diluc out of spite (thru an ugly vase)

- he unfortunately got so used to keeping Diluc's vision near him in his sleep that he ended up having a hard time sleeping for a while in its absence

- No one in the knights realized he's a pyromaniac. They figured he's ok with going near open flames because Diluc had a pyro vision and that since he's a cryo user, he can easily smother the flames when he fights pyro enemies

-Sometimes, he'd start fires himself and throw it onto enemies. The knights just thought "oh hey! A self-made melt reaction! Sir Kaeya is so cool-"

- Jean only realized after giving Kaeya babysitting duty to Klee for the first time. They came back with several reformed landscapes, a large basket of dead fish, and faint sounds of people screaming. Kaeya looked absolutely deranged, grinning ear to ear, with sparkles in his eyes, while carrying Klee, who was equally ecstatic

- "Oh no, what have I done." said Jean in horror after realizing the effects of making Kaeya babysit Klee

- kaeya argued with Jean over him spending time with Klee ( Kaeya somewhat won the argument? But he was told that no major damage should happen under his watch or else no Klee time. Good thing he had a cryo vision then)

- He made Klee her handbook as a guide for when and where they could do explosions. Time to teach his little pyromaniac partner the art of cunning.

- Rosaria figured out he likes fire and passes him the lighter to light up her cigarettes. She ended up gifting him a lighter soon after

- Kaeya has some business late at night sometimes, and that gives him the opportunity to watch the darknight hero in action, which means more fire!

- Diluc realizes that Kaeya watches him sometimes and since he knows Kaeya likes to see fire (to a worrying extent, and that really says something when a pyro user thinks so) he lets the other follow him around for a while

- Kaeya also gravitates towards the other pyro users in town. He enjoys watching Amber do target practice, he likes training Bennett, and again with spending time with Klee

this post is inspired by this reblog tag because I immediately started typing when I saw it like a deranged person myself

[dailykugisaki]

Day 121 | id in alt

They're recreating something that happened on a mission. Gojo is invested. Fushiguro? Lightly shaken.

[haven-gum-rockrose]

When Character A touches Character B's face in any way shape or form>>>>

[starscabaret]

Cowboy Yandere! Lane HeadCanons ✧.*

pairing : yandere! lane x fem reader 

summary :

authors note : i hope yall enjoy pls lmk

warnings : nsfw, breeding, pregnancy, daddy kink 

yandere! lane is a country boy through and through…he eats as much as a prize bull, making him damn near the size of one. Due to his hard labor, he is the perfect blend of muscles and fluff. He is the size kink king.

yandere! lane cannot be convinced to wear a condom or use protection no matter what stage of the relationship y’all are in. He wants a football team of kids and you will have them all.

yandere! lane also won’t wear a condom because the idea of anything separating him from his darling’s insides is infuriating. 

yandere! lane is a true dom, he values your pleasure more than anything. 

yandere! lane size comes into play when he’s pounding your pussy from behind. He tries to hold himself up and not squish you underneath him but somehow his chest always ends up pressed to your back. His arm around your tummy pulling your smaller body onto his cock as he continues his pounding. You couldn’t escape him if you wanted

yandere! lane never suppresses his guttural moans and groans from you. He doesn’t know how to be quiet but neither do you…

yandere! lane lives by the phrase ‘save a horse ride a cowboy’. When you’re on top of him he’s using his hips and hands to bounce you silly on his dick. Or he’s guiding your hips in just the right back-and-forth motion. 

yandere! lane washes his hands of all dirt and grime the second he enters the house, because right after he is going to find you and pick you up for a kiss. “Missed me Dollface? Daddy missed you.”

yandere! lane has rough hard days sometimes. If he’s too tired to fuck you silly he loves to pull you on his lap, lift your legs, and mindless play with and finger your cunt. Your back to his chest his large form looming over you with his chin resting on your shoulder. “Mhm good girl darling, too tired to fuck you properly, but what kind of man would I be if I didn’t pleasure my sweet girl every day?”. He definitely has just gotten off work, still clad in his jeans, hat, boots, and a black t-shirt. 

yandere! lane does not like to see you beg. He’s too soft and believes his darling shouldn’t want for anything, he is very willing to give you anything and everything that you want. Especially his mouth on your pussy.

yandere! lane will fuck you any and everywhere if you let him, god do you look so plump and round in a pair of blue jeans, but those long tight skirts are his favorite. The way they look when it’s pooled around your waist as he plows into you in the back of his truck drives him insane.

yandere! lane prefers that you have most or all of your pubic hair, his pussy just looks so cute with its little bush.

yandere! lane will not pull out no matter how hard you beg and squeeze his bicep, what’s the point of cumming, if it’s not in you?

yandere! lane when he finally gets you pregnant is the happiest man on earth, kiss your job bye bye the day you pee on that stick. You often catch him admiring every part of your body. Below your pregnant belly, he watches intently as his dick slides in and out splitting your perfect cunnie in half. Thinking about how it was just like this he bred you the first time. 

[purinfelix]

just for the weekend ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ - franco colapinto

summary: your teammate has an absolutely ridiculous plan to bring your team back from the dead - but it might be just crazy enough to work w/c: 5.5k + some smau style tweets warnings: a little angst, some uncomfortable touching/kissing since it's fake dating (not too bad but better safe than sorry), some miscommunication - just two idiots in love i fear

a/n: WOW it's finally here, fake dating is literally a guilty pleasure trope for me so i hope yall enjoy this HAHA - also sorry to Williams fans bc there's a lot of slander in this but trust its all for the plot <333 (also holy shit this is the longest fic I've ever written WOW)

"You're actually insane."

"Oh c'mon, at least think about it for a minute, it's perfect!"

You fold your arms over your chest and try your best to look uninterested in whatever it is your teammate has to say. The two of you had been racing together for a little over half a year now, and you had witnessed him make (at least in your opinion) a grand fool of himself. Flirting with interviewers, winking at cameras, having absolutely no filter during press conferences - but this, this was by far the craziest thing you had heard come out of his mouth.

"A fake relationship?"

"Ah ah ah," he tuts, jutting a finger in your face, "a media relationship, one that will draw the attention away from how crap we're doing and onto the personalities of the team. Think about it, McLaren has whatever Oscar and Lando have got going on and Ferrari basically has two models for drivers. We need something to put us on the map, to make people care about us!"

You pause, and for a minute you seriously consider his outrageous proposition - he isn't completely wrong. For the two of you, making it into the points range was a rare occurrence, and even though the team always made sure to celebrate it like a podium there was something that stung about constantly being at the bottom.

"Do you realise how much trouble we could get into?"

"Ah," he sighs, and it's starting to annoy you how lightly he's talking about this, "ever the pragmatist."

"Well one of us has to be if the other's going to keep saying stupid shit," you huff before turning around and beelining out of his driver's room.

Seriously, a fake relationship? Had he lost his mind? Maybe if he focused more on his racing you wouldn't be constantly outperforming him.

"At least think about it, okay?" You hear him call out from behind you, and consider yourself lucky to be facing the other way so that he doesn't catch your obnoxious eye roll. Surely he had to be kidding because there was no way you were going to devote any amount of time to this ridiculous thought.

God fucking damnit.

It was frustratingly confusing, the kind of power Franco had. You had witnessed it first hand with how smoothly he spoke to anyone and managed to get his way almost instantly - but this was your first time experiencing it first-hand. It was another weekend, another country, another race, but the only thing you could think of was his stupid consideration - which, with each passing moment, seemed increasingly genius.

You had almost a year of experience with the team over your teammate, and with that, your fair share of embarrassment and disappointment. Sure, his idea was a little out there but you were close to being at your wits end and if nothing else, you hoped this would at least be a little fun. Plus you were pretty sure at this point if you didn't act on this thought soon, it would start interfering with your performance.

"Fine," you said a little breathlessly as you burst into his driver's room ahead of a race.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, looking at you with a shocked look, "whatever happened to knocking? I could've been naked in here!"

You roll your eyes before continuing, "You still up to the ..." You pause, thinking of how best to word it, "Fake relationship thing?"

His eyes light up immediately, "Ah, I knew you'd come around eventually."

Letting out a soft huff, just to let him know that you still aren't fully convinced this will work, you sit down on his couch. "I think we should lay down some ground rules first."

"Yes ma'am." He nods, straightening up and forcing a serious expression you can only assume is mocking yours.

"Firstly, no kissing."

"Understood."

"Actually no public affection at all, holding hands, hugging, nothing."

"Oh sure and how exactly are we going to convince people then?"

You pause, thinking for a little, "Okay maybe hand-holding and hugs are fine, but you better not push it - that goes for the pet names as well." He nods with a satisfied smile.

"And no one other than us two can know this is fake, alright? Otherwise, it'll spoil the plan."

"Trust me, I don't need anyone knowing I'm going along with something as ridiculous as this. It'll be our little secret."

"Our little secret," he repeats with a hum, a sly sort of smile spreading across his face as he gets up from his spot. "See you after the race, my love."

You sighed in exasperation, tossing your phone to the side of the couch in your driver's room where it fell with a light thud. You had about a thousand other things to be worrying about - your pretty disappointing result in qualifying for one - but for some reason, the main thing on your mind was your 'relationship' with Franco. Somehow, it had proved even more intense than you had expected, which planted a seed of worry in your mind as you realised how hard this was actually going to be to pull off. Since his not-so-subtle announcement to a hoard of hungry press members at last week's race, the media had managed up a flurry about the two of you.

There were supportive fans who liked you both enough not to see any problem with two teammates dating, as well as others who were more sceptical about how it might impact your performance. However, what really seemed to get to you were those who doubted you more than the relationship.

Your social media had been bombarded with comments and theories about the reason behind your relationship, doubting your place on the grid, and calling you names that - after shedding the status of 'first girl rookie', you thought you had left behind. Regardless, you feel a little stupid for being so unprepared for all this - not just the tweets but the harsh articles, the questions during press interviews and even shouting fans. Maybe if you had done a little more thinking about it first, you would've realised this was a stupid idea that should've been left at just that.

Throwing your head back you let out an exasperated sigh, trying to clear your head so that you could move on and focus on the race that was happening tomorrow. The last thing you wanted was for this plan to start impacting your driving. But Franco always seemed to have the worst timing - or best, depending on who you asked.

"Hello?" A couple quick knocks alert you of his presence before he cracks the door just wide enough to peek in. "There's my beautiful girlfriend." The way the pet names and affection seem to come to him so easily makes you simultaneously impressed and concerned, unsure of whether it's an indication of his great acting or flirting skills.

"What do you want?" You try to make it as obvious as you can that you're not in the mood, and he realises this right away.

"Oh, nothing, I just wanted to ask if you were free after this."

"You know I'm not really a huge fan of the big team dinners, especially not when we have a race tomorrow."

"Oh it's not like that, I was just going to go check out a restaurant near our hotel and wondered if you wanted to join me."

When you finally speak it's just above a whisper, "Is this a part of the fake dating thing?"

He laughs softly, his ability to find everything entertaining has always amazed you. "If you want to, it can be. If that gives you a reason to come hang out with me, though if you don't it's totally fine."

"No, I'll come, not like I've got anything better to do." You hate how every word you've said so far has sounded so pathetic.

"Great, I'll meet you by the paddock entry in ten?"

"See you then."

The street lights were dim, just bright enough to illuminate the street the two of you were walking down. The night was cool and still, and there were barely any people out other than you. You weren't sure why, but you had ended up telling Franco a lot more than you had expected. Maybe it was the extremely fancy restaurant you had initially gone to or the local one the two of you agreed to ditch it for instead, or maybe it was just the freeing feeling of being in another country.

The two of you had talked before, of course - as teammates it was difficult to avoid. But beyond the casual small talk, discussions about strategies or banter during challenges your relationship never extended beyond casual co-existence. It was one of the reasons you were glad your higher-ups had never tried to force the two of you into a professional friendship. There was something about Franco, his ability to strike up a conversation and maintain it even when the topic clearly strayed far beyond his interests, that made him so likeable, so easy to get along with. And the support he got from fans and the media reflected this well. You just never felt like there was any room for you in that equation.

But here, away from the cameras and shedding the roles of drivers, the two of you became normal people. You spoke, you laughed, you vented to him everything that worried you about your 'relationship' and he listened throughout all of it - all the while the two of you shared the biggest, best, pizza you had ever had.

"I have to say, I don't know if our engineers will appreciate the extra weight I've just put on," he jokes, breaking the comfortable silence that had been lingering around you two as you walked.

"Me neither, they might have to roll me into the car at this rate."

"You know, I think this is the first time the two of us have hung out, just us two."

You think for a little before answering, "You're right."

"Do you think there's a reason for that?"

"You mean besides us both being extremely busy people and already seeing each other pretty often? Not really, no."

"Good point, though with our little plan, we're definitely going to be seeing each other a lot more."

There's a beat of silence. "This is nice though, right?" He asks, and his voice is so tentative you almost find it endearing.

"It is nice, this was fun." You try not to think too much about the fact the two of you could be mistaken by any passer-by as a couple of lovebirds on a first date - or that fact that even to those who knew you, you were.

"I appreciate you telling me all that stuff, you know, about what people are saying about you."

"Oh, if anything I should be thanking you for listening to me vent about it."

"It is serious though, I'm so stupid for not even thinking about what you'd have to deal with."

"Well I don't think either of us gave it enough thought but," you pause and look up at him, "we're too far in to back out now."

He shoots you a comforting smile, one that shows how reassured he feels that you seem to finally be coming around to his idea. That is, at least, before his face morphs into one of discomfort.

"God, I'm so full."

"We're almost back at the hotel now, let's just sleep and then we can wake up early tomorrow morning to-"

"Wait, is that ice cream?" Franco interrupts you to point out a street vendor who's about to pack up for the night, and before you know it he's running up to the man eagerly. You can only follow suit with a sigh, knowing full well you wouldn't mind some dessert either.

"You two are lucky, you'll be my last customers for the night," the moustachioed owner of the cart says with a warm smile.

"Thanks," you reply kindly, before turning to Franco, "what flavour do you think you'll get."

"Hm, not sure, maybe chocolate?"

"Wow, boring."

He scoffs, "Oh yeah? And what exotic flavour are you going to get then?"

"Mint choc," you smile, but your face drops once you see your teammate's disgusted expression.

"You've got to be kidding me, that's like the worst choice."

You feign offence, "How dare you insult the best ice cream flavour of all time?"

"Ah, you two are quite the couple," the man laughs and you watch as Franco's eyes widen in embarrassment.

"Oh we're not-"

"Thank you," it's your turn to interrupt him, turning to the man with a smile. "One chocolate and one mint choc chip please."

You go to reach for your wallet to pay but you feel a hand on yours, stopping you.

"No, it's okay, I got this."

"Wh- Franco c'mon you know full well both of us could afford about a thousand of these ice cream cones don't be ridiculous."

"I know," he smiles and even though he's trying to be serious you know he's also trying not to laugh, "but I just figured you know, I'm the one who dragged you out here and like, got you into this whole fake dating mess."

You furrow your brows, a little confused at what exactly he's getting at.

"I guess I just want to say thank you, you know?"

"Alright, alright," you laugh softly, watching as he pays and takes both of the cones, handing you yours. Once you grab yours, you instinctively loop your arm around his, pulling him close and resting your head against his shoulder. The ice cream man laughs endearingly at the two of you.

"You're the best boyfriend ever!" you say in as high and cute a voice you can manage, cringing a little but determined to keep up the bit - you don't even bother to think about how fast you can feel Franco's heart race when you do.

Last night was really nice. You're sitting next to your race engineer, nodding along as she points to various multi-coloured dots and lines on the screen. You hear yourself agreeing with a couple quick "mhms", "of course" and "yep"s even though you can barely hear what she's saying. You're mere minutes away from getting in your car for a race, getting briefed on your strategy, and the only thing you can think of is the 'date' you had with Franco last night - if you can even call it that.

You had thought that getting everything off your chest, the hate comments, the doubt you had, would help you feel better and relieve any worries you had. And it did, at least until you got back to your hotel room alone and caught yourself smiling at the thought of seeing your teammate again the next day. How, even as you washed up and got ready for bed, you found yourself thinking - pizza, ice cream, walking at night together, isn't that something a real couple would do?

"Are you listening to me?" your race engineer's voice cuts through the haze of your thoughts, causing you to straighten up immediately.

"Yes! Sorry," you mumble, but just at that moment, you see him walk into the garage, greeting a couple of the mechanics warmly. Before you realise it, he's beelining straight for you, his arm coming around your waist as he leans in close to your ear.

"There's a ton of cameras, I just wanted to be believable," he whispers, and when he pulls back you can see the smile on his face. You nod curtly, fully aware of how red your face feels over such a small interaction as he waltzes away.

"Okay, so as I was saying," your race engineer pipes up again, though you couldn't be paying her less of your attention - watching as your 'boyfriend' walks off, his brown hair illuminating in the afternoon light. For a fake relationship, the quickening pace of your heart felt far too real.

"Well you two have been teammates since the beginning of this year, can you tell us a little about when you realised you might be more?"

Your struggle was never-ending - or at least, that's what it felt like, finding yourself at the centre of an impromptu interview with Franco. Around you, the other drivers were getting questions about their place in their teams, how they felt about their current strategy and about their racing futures. And there the two of you were, getting thrown question after question about your 'relationship'.

"Well," you begin, before being saved by your teammate. You had to give it to him - he was great at making stuff up on the spot.

"Well, I think it was somewhere around a month after I first joined the team, and met her. It was just something about her, she's sort of electric in this almost untouchable way, you know?"

You try not to look too awkward standing next to him as he talks, feigning your best-interested smile - though a part of you is extremely intrigued by this fake story he's creating.

"At first I thought I just wanted to be like her, her passion and talent were just so respectable, but the more time I spent with her the more I realised it was something completely different."

He turns to look at you, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to him. Your expression falters a little as you're caught off guard by the sudden contact and as you turn away from the journalists and towards him, your eyes widen in shock at the sight of his pursed lips nearing yours. Before you realise it, his lips are against yours and you're pulling away as quickly as possible, face bright red. You're just barely aware of the thousands of flashing camera lights as you turn to quickly excuse yourself.

"Thank you all for coming, it was nice talking to you but, uhm, I have to go!" You hurriedly blurt out before slipping out of Franco's grip and darting off to your driver's room.

You hear his footsteps following closely behind you, as well as the sound of him calling out your name. When you near the door of your room, you turn around and grab his wrist to yank him in before you shut the door.

"What the hell was that?" is all you can muster out, "I thought we agreed no kissing?"

"Look, I can explain!"

You cross your arms with a huff, looking at him expectedly.

"I was just going to peck you quickly on the cheek, you know because we were getting all romantic and I wanted it to be believable! B-but then you turned, and then we," he's struggling not to ramble and his quickly moving hands do little to help. That's when you also realise his face is bright red as well, and he doesn't seem any less flustered by it than you do. "I'm really, really sorry I really shouldn't have done that."

You'd be lying if you said his explanation didn't make you feel any better. You're not actually upset about the kiss itself though, in fact, it's the opposite - actually, the grudge you're holding is doing little to help the internal struggle going on in your head. The kiss didn't make you angry, but the realisation that you wanted it to be real, did.

You sigh, rubbing your temples as you slump down in the nearest chair. Franco does the same on the adjacent couch, though his gaze stays carefully on you, almost afraid of what you might say next.

"It's fine, I think we just need to coordinate our PDA a little better then."

"Yes, of course," he nods quickly.

There's a beat of silence. "You're really good at acting though."

"What?"

"That whole story you made up about how you fell in love with me, it was really believable." You laugh lightheartedly trying to lighten the situation and alleviate the awkwardness that's settled between you two.

"Well it's pretty easy, I didn't need to make up much of it," his eyes catch yours and his gaze is soft when he smiles at you.

"What?" you're confused.

"Never mind," he scoffs lightly, his gaze dropping to the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. He looks almost disappointed at something, though you can't realise what. "Well, I'll leave you alone now. I really am sorry about what happened before." You watch as he pushes himself up from the couch, his head hanging guiltily - looking almost like a scolded puppy.

"It's fine Franco, really, please don't feel too bad about it." He nods thankfully before slipping out the door, leaving you alone.

Being a driver, hotel rooms had come to be a companion you knew far too familiarly. Their high ceilings, plush sterile white bedsheets, the empty bathroom - almost everything about them felt a sign of loneliness, of temporality, a house that never felt like home. Even though you knew how ridiculous it would be to complain about something that others would see as a privilege, it was hard to deny the isolation you felt whenever in a new country, away from most of your family or friends.

Maybe that's why you had been so eager to latch onto Franco's idea - it made sense, he had become the person you spent the most time with so why not give yourself some ridiculous reason to be around him even more? However somewhere along the way you stopped needing the reason of fake dating, somewhere in between hushed conversations, planned posts and candid photos - and instead found yourself genuinely enjoying his company. It was a little strange and sometimes acted as a sour reminder of how lonely you'd become but more than anything it felt like a blessing in disguise.

You were reminded of this fact as you lay, wrapped in a plush white hotel robe, across your messy bedsheets - laughing to yourself at the tweets your boyfriend had sent you. They were all about you, or the two of you, of course. Comments on the tiniest things, the way the two of you looked at each other, the way Franco held your hand, the way you worried about him.

"I feel a little bad, they're all so gullible," you typed quickly.

"Oh, so now you feel bad?" His response was almost instant.

"Don't you?"

"It's fun, isn't it? All this playing pretend."

Right, pretend. You rolled onto your back with a deep sigh, staring up at the tall hotel ceiling. All of this was just so confusing - as if figuring out how you felt about someone wasn't difficult enough, the two of you had complicated it by tricking the entire world into thinking you were in love. Whether you truly liked him or not, the idea was doomed for failure - and the more you thought about it, the more it seemed like the former.

"You're right," you typed back, watching intently as the three tiny dots appeared, disappeared then reappeared. What could he be saying that would need so much thinking?

"Can we talk tomorrow, after the race?"

You felt your stomach drop, had he finally caught on to how obvious you were being about how you truly felt, and decided that actually it might be better to just drop this whole act and go on as just teammates? With trembling hands, you typed back.

"Sure, what about?"

"I'll tell you then, for now, we should sleep."

"Goodnight Franco."

"Goodnight mi amor." You laughed softly to yourself at the nickname he had given you, though a small part of you took it as salt to the wound - almost as if he was dangling the possibility of something that could never happen right in front of your desperate little face.

However, not like you had a choice - all you could do now was get ready for bed and brace yourself for whatever tomorrow brought.

You couldn't believe it. The sounds of celebration erupted around you, but you sat completely still in your car, silent, attempting to process what had just happened. Your first win, and, your first double podium, with Franco. Your head was spinning as the never-ending stream of thoughts raced through your mind. Suddenly, you heard a voice coming from above your car's halo, muffled by your helmet. You flick the visor up, lifting your head as highly as you could - locking eyes with your teammate.

"We did it! Oh my god!" The excitement on his face is enough to send a slight surge of energy through you as he offers you his hand, helping you out of the car. When you do though, you stumble a little - the nerves are almost too much for you.

"Woah, you alright?" Even through the fog clouding your mind you can make out the concern in Franco's voice and feel his arms steadying you.

"Yeah, just-" you mumble, gesturing to your helmet and making weak attempts to undo the clasps underneath it. It's almost suffocating you, and the chaos going on around you isn't helping the pounding headache.

"Oh, let me," he reacts immediately, dropping his own helmet and bringing his hands below your chin to swiftly undo the clasps and pull the helmet off of you. You take a deep breath of air as you pull off your fireproof mask, though it sounds more like a desperate gasp.

Around you, the crowds roar with excitement, both your team and others as they make attempts to gesture at the two of you to join them. Your head spins though, and you wobble backwards into Franco.

"It's too loud," is all you can stutter out, though he understands you almost immediately, a strong hand gripping your wrist and pulling you away from the noise and somewhere quieter. You're not entirely sure where he's taking you but at that moment you feel as though you'd follow him just about anywhere.

Luckily though, when your eyes refocus you're in his driver's room, and even though outside you can hear the cheers continuing, you're offered some solace here, the walls muffling the sound. You sigh, sinking into his couch as you throw your head back, panting still.

You feel like it's all just too much - not just the physicality of the race, but the feeling of winning it, winning it with Franco, just Franco himself. When you finally manage to catch your breath you lift your head to see him standing over you, watching intently.

"Better?"

"Much better, thank you." You smile earnestly, "Though I don't think we'll be able to hide in here much longer, there is a cooldown room for this exact reason."

"Oh, I mentioned it to someone, not sure who but he looked important, and he said it would be okay."

You laugh softly, amazed at how he can seem so calm even at a moment like this.

"We did it," you say, still not being able to believe it.

"We did," he smiles, sitting on the couch next to you, "a couples podium."

You feel your heart skip a beat at the sudden reminder of your conversation last night, him mentioning he had something to tell you. Was this it? The two of you had achieved what you had been wanting this entire time, and there was no better time to let this ridiculous bit go than now.

You stare at the wall of his room, the gigantic flag of his home country, and let out a shaky breath, mustering up the courage to break the silence. "So..."

He turns to you, one eyebrow raised in interest.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" You're trying your best to keep your voice lighthearted, "it sounded serious."

"Oh, well about that," he seems to have forgotten it temporarily as well, but the fact that he turns to look at the flag as well, almost unable to maintain eye contact with you, isn't a good sign.

Maybe it's the adrenaline from the race, maybe it's the fact that both of you are going to be needed out on the podium in about ten minutes - or maybe it's the fact that you're so desperate to get out these feelings and make him understand how you feel, but you start talking before you even realise it.

"Look, Franco, I," you start, not entirely sure of where you're going to end up, "I know you asked me to do this whole fake dating thing with you and I completely understand if you want to end it now, I mean why wouldn't we? It's perfect!"

He looks at you confused, lips parted as if about to interrupt you but you continue anyway, stupidly.

"But, look, here's the thing," you turn to him now, and you're sure your face is bright red, "I don't want this to end!"

You let out a deep sigh, and clutch your hands together to stop them from shaking, though it doesn't help that Franco looks even more confused now.

"What?" he says, and your heart drops.

"I," you pause, struggling to find the right words, and struggling to get them out, "I think I like you, like, for real." Okay, not exactly the best choice of words but it'll do.

"Like, not for the whole fake relationship thing?" his tone is still concerned and he leans in a little for clarification.

"Yes! Okay, I know it's not exactly what we thought would happen and it'll probably jeopardise our relationship as teammates but there, I like you okay."

"When did you realise?"

"A couple days ago, I'm sorry."

There's a beat of silence, and you're left with the agonising feeling of your heart racing in your chest, waiting eagerly for his response - for him to laugh in your face, for him to get mad, for him to reject you.

But instead, you watch as Franco's confused expression melts into one of pure relief as he sinks back into the couch with a sigh. "Oh, thank God."

It's your turn to be confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that," he says, eyes fixed on the ceiling with the widest smile you've ever seen.

"Wait you mean you-"

"I win!"

You're absolutely speechless, not a single coherent thought on what is going on or how to respond. All you can get out is a confused sort of grunt.

"I win, I've liked you for longer!" he laughs, sitting up and grabbing your hands in his.

You feel as though your jaw is going to dislocate at how fast it drops, "I'm sorry?"

"Oh c'mon, we've been teammates for a year I know you're not that oblivious."

"Well, apparently I am because I'm really confused."

"I've liked you since the moment I met you, you idiot."

"Wh-" You're about to be offended at the name-calling until what he says finally hits you. He likes you. He has liked you. For ages. You idiot.

"Even when you proposed this to me?"

"Yep."

"Even when we went to get ice cream?"

"Yep."

"Even when you kissed me?"

"Y- well wait no that was completely unintentional," he holds his hands out in defence. You slump back, trying your best to process everything today has entailed, it's almost too much. That is until you feel Franco move a little closer to you, his arm stretching around your shoulders and gently moving your head to lay on his. At that moment, it all becomes clear, and you're suddenly unsure about why you ever felt confused about any of this.

"What now?" You say, barely above a whisper.

"We go and get our trophies," even though you're not looking you can hear the smile in his voice. "Though, before then."

You lift your head up off his shoulder to turn to him with raised brows. "Hm?"

"Now that we aren't fake dating, do the rules still apply?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'd really like to kiss you right now," he whispers, and there's a hint of nerves as you watch his eyes dart in between yours and your lips.

"Really can't wait can you," you tease, though you still move to close the space in between you to. But just before your lips can touch his there's a knock at the door, causing you both to slump back with a sigh.

"Hey, are you two in there?" it's your race mechanic, "you're needed, you know, on the podium."

You roll your eyes to show your obvious disappointment at being interrupted, though Franco just watches you with an endeared smile.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask, not being able to hide your own smile.

"I'm just thinking about how beautiful you're going to look up on that podium, and how I won't have to pretend not to be in love with you anymore."

Taglist : @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @cinderellawithashoe @vanicogh @taasgirl @claudiajacobs

@dripostsstuff @boiolay @earth-to-lottie @dejavuontrack @dudududu-fangirl

@kravitzwhore @gavisuntiedboot @reiofsuns2001 @musicmie @danielle12002x-blog

@alelo23 @corrodeddeadlydoll @aliwritex @nina-or-anna-or-nora

@5sospenguinqueen @araunahj @sbrn0905 @halleest @lottieliveslife

@lovestruck-sky @im-an-op81-fan @blubra @vienoiserieetc

(don't ask me why it's formatted so weird, tumblr hates me)

[allaboutnayeli]

F.T.L | m.leon x reader / i.engen x reader

summary: you find out mapi is cheating, so you get revenge in the best way possible: getting a taste of her lover.

author notes: figure out what F.T.L stands for :)

contains: mapi leon x reader, ingrid engen x reader, mapi leon x ingrid engen, medical university student!reader, tattoo artist!ingrid engen, this is full of cheating & lying, cheating used as a form of revenge, everyone is sorta a piece of shit sorryyy, tons of angst, this is NOT smut so don't even, toxicity, a prime example of what NOT to do in a relationship, this is very long cause i'm not leaving yall on a cliffhanger, this is very insane so buckle in 🙂🩷

playing B.A.S by megan thee stallion 🎵

"are you sure she's cheating and you aren't just overthinking?" your bestfriend, daniela, says. the brunette is sitting right next to you on her couch. one arm resting on the back of the couch, her face resting in the palm of her hand and the other hand holding a glass of white wine.

"i wouldn't just accuse her of something this bad if i didn't have a reason to be suspicious," you respond. you take a sip of your own wine to shove down the anger and sadness that's bubbling in your conscience. not that daniela would ever judge you if you did let those emotions show themselves. the woman has been your pillar since you started having these suspicions about your girlfriend, maria.

my name is maria, but everyone calls me mapi. i would rather you call me yours, though, is what the spaniard said the first time you two met. you thought the pickup line was so cringe and dorky, but at the same time, so cute coming from the tattooed brunette.

and that one line led to nearly four years of a loving relationship. what can you say? mapi is one of the sweetest people you know. she remembers small details like how you prefer oat milk than any other kind, so she always makes sure to get it when she does the grocery shopping or the way you used to complain about how tight your hair ties were, so she bought you extra stretchy ones. she's the cutest cat mom with bagheera being absolutely spoiled. mapi was also protective, good with kids, and so many great qualities.

she is also a cheater.

sweet, caring, certified cat lover, super dorky maria is a cheater.

you sat on this suspicion for a short while before booking it to daniela's while mapi is at her favorite tattoo shop getting another inked beauty; that darned tattoo shop.

"after nearly every appointment, she goes out for drinks with her tattoo artist. at first, i thought she just made a new friend, but she always came back home looking messier than usual.. smelling like some perfume.. and when i ask her what they did at the bar, she barely tells me anything," you explain, "and you know how mapi is! she's the type of person who wouldn't be able to stop talking even if it was to save her life."

daniela nods in agreement. anyone who spends even a few minutes around mapi knows how much the spanish woman likes to talk. if there was a guinness world record for the "biggest yapper" mapi would be a record holder.

"okay, i would be suspicious too," daniela says. you let out an exactly that makes her playfully hit your arm. "anyways, back to what i was saying.. what are you going to do about it? even if she isn't cheating, something is going on."

you purse your lips as you take in her question. what are you going to do? confronting her right away feels wrong when you don't have concrete evidence. randomly accusing your girlfriend to her face wouldn't go over well; mapi is a sweetheart, but hates when people say she did something she's sure she didn't.

after some thinking about it, you come up with an idea.

"i need actual proof.." you start to say. daniela gestures for you to hurry up as you trail off.

"i have to get access to her phone."

it's around eight when mapi comes back to you guys apartment. you're feeding bagheera dinner when the spaniard walks through the door.

not wanting to seem suspicious and also just genuinely missing your girlfriend (even if you did suspect she was being disloyal) after a long day of basically not seeing her, you pet bagheera before standing up and going over to the front door. mapi has already slipped off her shoes when you walk over. she's smiles when you come close.

"hola mi preciosa," she giggles when you give her a welcome back home peck, "how was your day, hm?"

"good.. but better now that you're here," you say, pulling her into a hug. it's warm and makes your heart flutter like usual. those flutters go away as you smell that unfamiliar perfume on mapi, reminding you of what you talked about with daniela. you hide your frown in mapi's neck.

"aweee. you missed me that bad?" mapi says when you pull yourself out of the hug. still holding onto her as you two move to the kitchen.

you roll your eyes at her sudden cockiness. it's an annoying but charming trait of hers. now you wonder if that same charm is what made another woman fall for her hard enough that she didn't care that mapi was already taken; if the woman even knows.

you push those thoughts away. playfully teasing her as you say, "no, i just didn't want to wash the dishes after eating dinner. now you can do it."

mapi perks up at the sound of dinner and then groans at the talk of dishes. that was her least favorite chore by far.

"cmon, amor. you know you wash the dishes way better than i do," she pouts at you, leaning against the kitchen island. that pout makes you smile (something that you reprimand yourself for mentally) as you get the lasagna out of the oven.

you hear the meow of bagheera as she comes over to mapi. the brunette bends down and picks up the black cat right away. kissing the top of the cat's head like she always does.

"i swear you love that cat more than me," you joke.

mapi shrugs, "can you fault me if i did? just look at her, babe. she's adorable." she holds up bagheera so that the cat's face is facing you. of course, the black cat looks adorable per usual. you might not have been there from the beginning, but you love bagheera just as much as mapi does.

"yeahh.. the cutest one in the house," you say before turning your attention to the lasagna. you make two plates of lasagna and grab both when you finish.

"grab us some drinks, will ya?" you walk from the kitchen to the table in the 'dining room', which is really just open space between the kitchen and living room that needed something to be filled up with.

mapi says a quick okay before setting down bagheera back on the floor (she gives her a kiss before she does, of course) and goes over to the fridge. she grabs a pink lemonade for you and a pepsi for herself. she follows after you, setting the drinks down on the table, then sits down.

"gracias, mi amor," she says when you place her plate down in front of her. once you sit down across from her, you say, "de nada."

you two eat a bit before you bring up the tattoo shop. mapi is rambling on about the meetings she had to attend in the morning,

"-and all he does is go on and on about basically nothing. i don't get how someone can talk so much.." the spaniard says in between bites. you let out a giggle at the irony of mapi, of all people, complaining about someone talking too much. the nice atmosphere sours a little (at least for you) as you think back to what you need to ask; just to confirm, this suspicion of yours isn't something you made it due up to overthinking.

"he sounds annoying as shit," you chuckle, easily sliding into the topic you really want to know about, "beside all that, how was your tattoo appointment?"

mapi visibly gets less chipper than she was while rambling. the change is subtle, she bites her lip and starts to sorta push around the food on her plate as she looks down at it like she's thinking about what to bite next.

your eyes flicker down to her lips. why is she being hot at this moment? the spanish woman really has no right when she's acting like she doesn't wanna talk about something that should be her favorite topic. mapi loves tattoos. everyone knows she loves tattoos, so why wouldn't she yap about her appointments like she does everything else?

she takes a bite of her lasagna before shrugging, "it was alright. i didn't get anything done, but i talked with my tattoo artist about the design i wanted."

you nod, waiting for her to continue on like she usually would with any other topic, but no.

mapi just goes back to eating. obviously waiting for you to reply back to her.

"that sounds nice, baby. what design did you pick?" you ask.

"uh, just a design of bagheera."

"that's adorable."

mapi smiles at you, "i know. i already have a few of her, but i want more, you know. she's getting older."

"yeah, she's becoming a grandma." that makes mapi laugh loudly, going right into joking around about bagheera's age. you join in and don't even say anything when the topic strays away from the tattoo shop.

you two talk about practically nothing, finishing the rest of the lasagna. now both of you are washing dishes instead of it just being mapi's chore. what can you say? you aren't able to resist her puppy eyes even when all you think about when you see them now is if she ever used those on another woman romantically.

"are you ready for our date tomorrow?" you say, drying off a plate mapi handed you.

she smiles, "of course. i have been missing our date days. i'm so ready to spend the entire day with the prettiest woman i know." she turns towards you, puckering her lips for a kiss. you giggle and peck her lips a few times.

"you really think that?" you say. it comes out playful, but there is vulnerability lingering at its edges. in mapi's eyes is some concern, she knows you like the back of her hand. of course she would notice if you sound insecure.

mapi puts down the plate in the sink and dries her hands before pulling you close to her. she kisses the side of your face as her arms hold onto your waist, "why wouldn't i? just look at you. the love of my life."

usually, her words would reassure you right away, but not now. not when you are sure she's cheating on you. if you're so beautiful then why is she fucking around with someone else?

you don't let those thoughts influence your actions, though, as you hold onto her tighter. if you hold on a little longer, maybe you can pretend that mapi just really likes that tattoo shop and isn't doing anything strange. maybe you can pretend she's still all yours.

mapi lets you be the one to pull away, kissing you right away. then when that ends, she smiles, "i'm gonna finish up these plates, then shower. just go relax, okay?"

you nod, pecking her lips again before leaving the kitchen. you go to sit on the couch, bagheera coming over to sit on your lap. a cuddle session starts as bagheera snuggles up to you. the only sounds in the apartment is the tv playing, bagheera's purring, and mapi's humming as she washes the dishes as the woman can't even be silent when doing that.

soon enough, the sound of the water running stops. mapi says, "i'm going to go shower first. i'll be out in thirty. can you put my phone on the charger for me, amor?"

"mhm, sure!" this is finally your chance to check mapi's phone. you kiss the top of bagheera's head before letting her get off your lap, so you can go grab mapi's phone.

you reach the counter where she left the device on. your heart starts racing as you pick it up. just do a quick look, then put it on the charger you tell yourself as you start to type in mapi's password.

it doesn't work.

the password that mapi has been using since you two have been together isn't working.

"what the fuck..?" you murmur, trying the password one more time before just accepting that she changed it. you already have some evidence just from this because why would she change it? this also foils your plans. how can you get in her phone?

you decide you need to call daniela later and figure out a different plan.

right when you set down the phone back on the counter, a text pops up.

ingrid 💕

wish you could have stayed-

only the start of the message shows, and when you try to tap on it to see the rest, it says you have to unlock the phone. your heart feels like it's going to beat out of your chest as you tap on the message again, reading it over and over again. who the fuck is ingrid?

you have to get into her phone and soon.

you realize time is ticking. mapi won't be in the shower forever. quickly, you go and put her phone on the charger. your heart beat is not calming down even when you pick up bagheera from her cat tree and start to cuddle with her again. the contrast of bagheera being so calm and sleepy to your internal panic and hurt is laughable, but the black cat is grounding in a way. in the same way that mapi once was.

you sigh as you think about what this all could lead to. definitely a break-up, but you weren't gonna just leave and let mapi live in peace with.. ingrid. whoever the hell that is.

you are still deep into the mourning the lost of your relationship when mapi comes out of your bedroom. she's dressed in her usual oversized white t-shirt and shorts so short it looks like she isn't wearing any at all.

cute is what you would of thought if this was a week or two ago when you weren't sure that your girlfriend wasn't enjoying the company of someone else behind your back.

however, just because you figured mapi is cheating or doing something wrong doesn't mean all your feelings go away like a switch. you still find mapi very cute with that freshly washed, sleepy look on her face. you still want to get up and go kiss her on your way to the bathroom like you always do,

so you do. when you get off the couch, you make sure to stop and give mapi a long kiss. "you're adorable," you say when you pull away. enjoying the way her lips are slightly swollen. the spanish woman giggles, pecking your lips once more.

"you're even cuter," she says before leaving your side to go to the couch. immediately cuddling up to bagheera just like you were earlier.

you go into your bedroom, grab your pajamas, and then go into the bathroom. whether to shower with cold or hot water is a battle for you. the cold will make you have goosebumps. it'll shock you enough that for a quick second, you won't even think about this. but the hot water will burn your skin and warm up your heart that feel like it's already melting from the outside.

hot it is.

as the first few water droplets fall down onto your body, you let out a sigh. the warmth of the water feels so good but makes your mind feel so hazy, you hate it but you love it and damn you wish this wasn't happening right now.

maybe it wasn't.

maybe when you finish doing this and walk out of this bathroom, mapi wouldn't be a cheater. her password would be the same. ingrid, whoever she is, wouldn't even be in the equation. you would just go out there and cuddle with mapi like you always do, then go to sleep together like you always do then you two would go on a date and everything will be perfect like they always been.

has it always been perfect? how long has this cheating thing been going on? has mapi been cheating on the entire time? is mapi even trustworthy?

and what about ingrid? who is she? is she hotter than you? talks better than you? has a better job than you? is she some fucking bombshell who you can't even compare to?

why? when? how? who? why?

why the fuck would mapi do this to you?

"amor!" the voice of mapi shakes you out of your thoughts. she knocks on the bathroom door. when you don't reply right away, she says, "can i come in? i need to piss."

your mind moves slower than it should as you take in what she said. would it be wrong of you not to want her in here? not when you feel so vulnerable that it's like your skin was stripped off of you.

"uh.. i'll be out quick. can you wait? please?" you say. stumbling to start actually washing your body instead of just standing under the water.

mapi doesn't reply but moves away from the door. concern overtakes her mind as she goes back over to the couch. you two have been together for almost four years now. you have seen her in every way, and she has seen you every way, so what's so crazy about her using the bathroom while you shower? she thinks back to earlier when you asked her if she really thinks you're the prettiest woman she knows. the insecure tone you had didn't escape past her. is it because of that? if it is then why are you feeling insecure in the first place? mapi thinks over the last few months and nothing comes up for why you would feel that way.

unless you knew about ingrid, but you couldn't know about ingrid because mapi has been careful. she still has been the most loving girlfriend towards you, so nothing would be suspicious. of course, mapi hasn't been loving just because she wanted to make sure you didn't catch that she's sneaking behind your back, she genuinely still cares for you.

you definitely don't know about ingrid. this is just one of those times when you need extra reassurance which mapi is fine with giving.

she loves you.

she swears she does.

"you can go piss now," your voice pulls mapi out of the chaos that is currently her mind. in the time of her panicking and being concerned, you had finished showering and changed. now you're standing next to the couch. she smiles as her eyes land on you. "look at youu. all clean and cute," she says after standing up. you slightly flush at the compliment (even though you don't want to. it's a natural reaction, okay?)

"shut up and go piss." you giggle, moving past her to sit down on the couch. mapi playfully blows you a kiss before leaving out of the room. the interaction between you two should make your heart feel fond, but how can it when in the back of your mind is the reminder that mapi is probably acting this way with someone else when you aren't around. you wish you could blow away all of these feelings you have for her, but you can't so you just let bagheera come cuddle you.

and when mapi comes back into the living room, a large blanket in hand, you still cuddle up to her while you two watch cartoons. this is something you will definitely miss when you leave her. the thought of leaving mapi is not one you want to think about right now, so you push it to the side and snuggle up more to the spaniard.

it's easy to pretend everything is the same if you don't think about anything.

an hour later, you're laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling while mapi cuddles you. her head is on your chest, her arm around your waist. you can feel the gentle exhale and inhale of her body.

it should calm you. right now, you should be rubbing small circles on her back under her shirt. you should be kissing the top of her head at random until you let the clutches of sleep take you.

but you can't.

your body feels frozen as you lay there. how many times have mapi been like this with ingrid? the thought fills you up with dread, anger, sadness, disgust. jealousy.

what about her makes her so much better than you?

you haven't been giving mapi all the attention she deserves, but only because you're trying not to fail your classes in pre-med. staying on campus until late doesn't give you the same whimsy feeling as sitting around with mapi doing nothing or going out with mapi or just existing alongside her.

if only you could detach yourself right now.

if only this was one big misunderstanding.

if only this wasn't happening.

you wish you was stuck in a dream right now and all you had to do was shake yourself awake.

why?

maria, why?

you lay there for another hour, just letting your thoughts trample you, then you slip away. the sight of mapi cuddling up to the pillow that's supposed to be you makes you smile and want to cry.

you do cry.

as you step onto the balcony attached to the living room, phone in hand, the sound of ringing joining in the busy sounds of barcelona's nightlife.

"it's nearly one am and i have a eight am class tomorrow so this better be-"

"i saw a text," you interrupt her. you don't mean to, but you have been keeping this to yourself since you saw it.

daniela doesn't speak for a few minutes. you hear the shuffle of her covers and the click of a lamp being turned on. then she says, "from the chick she's cheating with?"

"her name is ingrid. mapi has a contact saved with a heart, a fucking heart. i couldn't see the entire text, right?" daniela says a small right. "so i tried to unlock her phone and she changed her password! mapi changed her password and i swear she has probably had the same password since like high-school because you know she can be forgetful and-"

"slow the fuck down. my brain can't keep up with all that, and you are working yourself up. calm down, y/n," daniela says. you stop talking, allowing yourself to just breathe for a minute, but that doesn't mean your blood stops boiling.

"i am trying to calm down but dani, my girlfriend is cheating on me for fucks sake!" you don't mean to shout at her, but you do. thankfully, you're outside, so mapi couldn't have heard you.

"okay! okay. alright, sorry," daniela sighs, "so you saw a text from some chick named ingrid, tried to see the full text, and couldn't get into mapi's phone because she changed her password?"

"yes.."

"okay, listen. this is what you're gonna do."

the next morning, you wake up to the smell of bacon and the sound of jazz music playing. you slide out of bed and walk out into the living room to the sight of mapi looking pretty in the kitchen as she cooks. she's already dressed, unlike you. instead of immediately saying good morning, you just enjoy the sight for the few minutes that you do. this is something you will miss, so what's wrong with indulging a little?

mapi doesn't notice your presence right away, too distracted with the music, cooking, and her own singing. it's only when she turns to the kitchen island to change the song playing on her phone that she sees you. a smile blooms on her lips right away. "buenos dias, amor. how long have you been there?" mapi moves from in the kitchen to where you are in the living room.

"long enough to hear your horrible vocals," you say as she pulls you into her arms.

"they aren't," she pecks your lips, "horrible."

"i think our neighbors would disagree."

"they should be lucky i'm giving them a free performance. i could be the next-" you shut her up by kissing her. it starts off lazy, but soon you are more forceful; not for the usual reason, though. it's not passion driving you to press against mapi, but anger.

your almost make-out session is interrupted by the slight smell of burning. "shit, the bacon," mapi lets go of you before speed-walking to the kitchen.

she's able to cut off the stove before any of the bacon truly burns. thankfully, the fire alarm doesn't go off. your neighbors would really hate that. you walk over to the kitchen, going to lean against the kitchen island. you watch mapi as she plates breakfast for the two of you. now that you are actually standing in the kitchen instead of looking from afar, you can see mapi has cooked more than just bacon. there are toast and scrambled eggs as well. the warmth that suddenly blooms in your heart irks you and, at the same time, saddens you. this is a domestic scene that mapi and you have been in many times. the spanish woman loves to cook for you, but what's to say she doesn't love cooking for her little secret?

"thank you for all this, babe," you say when she hands your plate to you. mapi laughs off your thanks, saying something along the lines of i'm your girlfriend it's my job inbetween bites of bacon. usually, you two would sit at the dining table and eat, but today, yall opt for sitting at the kitchen island.

your shoulders rub against each other as you eat. of course, mapi yaps in between bites. mostly about all the activities she has planned for you two the entire day, how she hopes you are impressed, and that yall should match since it is a date day today. you keep up with her good enough. she has been your girlfriend for nearly four years now, after all. just responding back from time to time keeps her happy. mapi doesn't really need a reply to continue talking anyway, just your attention.

you finish eating before mapi (to neither of yours surprise), so you go to wash the dishes and let mapi play with bagheera for a bit. that only takes ten minutes or so then you are off to the bathroom to get ready for the day, making sure to kiss both of your girls before you do. bagheera lets out a meow when you leave her eyesight, but soon her attention is redirected elsewhere as mapi starts to rile her up.

when you step into the shower, all the emotions you were putting behind a lovesick mask can show themselves. the bitter taste that feels your mouth, the betrayal that burns your throat, the guilt that grips onto your shoulders. you shouldn't even be feeling guilty right now. not when mapi is the one who betrayed your loyalty. still, the sting of guilt lingers around your skin, burning you. in a perfect world, you would be feeling like shit for even thinking that mapi, your sweet, perfect, mapi was cheating. your bestfriend would shake your shoulders and say, "are you stupid? that woman is inlove with you." instead, you were met with okay, i would be suspicious too. you try to lift that dread that pools in your stomach by thinking about how fun this day is going to be,

and how you should savor it since it's going to be one of the last.

author notes: this is an lesson on how you shouldn't trust anyone's words.. JK but fr sorry for the cliffhanger, this was just getting way too long. part two coming soon 🩷 (this is not grammar checked bare with me yall)

© ALLABOUTNAYELI

[f1rodrigo]

the mclaren boy mystery

l. norris / o. piastri

summary: in which your boyfriend is a formula one driver for team mclaren and when you finally decide it's time to start hinting to the world, the internet is confused on exactly which driver is your boyfriend. pairing: social media au || lando norris / oscar piastri x reader fc: jazmyn makenna

a/n: made this on a whim instead of studying for exams & doing hw. there will be more parts eventually... i hope you enjoy for the sake of my abandoned school work. (edit hours later) -> omfg i spent all day working on this (literally at the expense of my hw & studying lolol) & i was about to publish it when i went to my drafts & it was just GONE. i was about to be in tears. i tried everything & finally accepted the fact that it was going to be gone forever. BUT i just opened tumblr again & there she was!!!! so so happy. anyways hope you enjoy<33.

part two | part three

sweet relief series | valentine's day drabble

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liked by landonorris, and 22,019 others

yourusername fast cars n pretty girls 💌

view all 671 comments

user1 i have no idea who these girls are but lando is in the likes......

⤷ user2 fr i'm so curious now

⤷ user3 landos girl of the week i suppose 🤣

⤷ user4 prob just ur typical rich girls who spend their weekends at races 🤷🏻‍♀️

yourbestfriend same time next week?

francisca.cgomes gorgeous girls

⤷ yourusername love u kiks

⤷ user5 guys..... i am thinking Thoughts...

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yourusername added to their story

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liked by mclaren, and 542,111 others

oscarpiastri Singapore, the new helmet and I are ready ✨

view all 1,212 comments

mclaren ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

user1 LETS GOOOOO

user2 oscar piastri singapore gp winner has a nice ring to it

user3 sexy helmet for a sexy man

user4 SLAYYYYYY

yourusername love the new helmet osc liked by author

⤷ user5 now she's in oscars comments wtf

⤷ user6 and he liked 😯

⤷ user7 are f1 drivers not allowed to have friends or something

user8 absolutely loveee 🫶🏻🫶🏻

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liked by oscarpiastri, yourbestfriend, and 44,921 others

yourusername we <3 singapore

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user1 guys this isn't funny anymore WHO IS SHE

⤷ user2 lando's gf

⤷ user3 SERIOUSLY?? HOW DO YOU KNOW

⤷ user2 calm 😭😭😭😭😭😭 i was joking i have no clue but honestly wouldn't doubt it

⤷ user4 would yall call me insane if i said i think she's oscars gf

⤷ user5 yes

⤷user6 hmm im listening

user7 oscar in the likes... after she was in his comments...

user8 full main post of lando AND oscar ffs no shame

⤷ user9 maybe they're friends like wtf is the big deal????

⤷ user10 obvs clout chasing

⤷ user11 literally how 😐

⤷ user12 misogyny thats how 👎🏻

⤷ user13 cmon not even close, no one in the f1 community had any clue who this girl was and one day she starts posting about f1 immediately people start talking about her thinking she's dating lando and then next post she's posting him and oscar like clearly trying to get people to keep talking about her. she more than likely isn't with either of them and is she just cashing in her 15 seconds of fame or trying to live out her wag dream

⤷ user14 not the essay in the instagram comment section bffr

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yourusername added to their story

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landonorris added to their story

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part two

part three

reply or send me a message to be added to the taglist 🤍

[tremendum]

Mr. Miller’s House 

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her, use of the word girl)    

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)      

word count: 7.6k  requested: yes  summary: “Joel was a mean, mean man. and you eat it up like a woman starved for months.” warnings: mentions of food/eating, drinking alcohol, age gap (unspecified), Jackson era, Ellie gets a splinter, Joel is honestly rude to Ellie in this and reader is judgy about Joel’s parenting practices lol. but really,  this is just filthy smut (PiV, unprotected), dirty talk, sir kink, use of the word slut a LOT, one use of the word bitch, humiliation/degradation, hints of masochism, choking, exhibitionism, public smut, rough sex, dom!Joel, mean joel, lots of fighting/anger, cumplay, dirty talk, ass spanking, pussy spanking, mentions of blood (reader gets scraped knees), throat/facefucking, rough oral (m!receiving), overstimulation, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms. lmk if i missed any please lmfao

notes: okay jesus fucking christ!!! i wrote this so fasst lol but it was fun and highly requested. hope yall like it.  as always reblogs/asks/comments are always great motivations :’) this is not reread because as i have said before im lazy and INSANE! 

[this is a sequel to Mr Miller.    part three   other Joel fics:     fever       landmines  ]

★  

this was a mistake. you shouldn't have done this....this was a terrible idea. 

fuck. 

the chair is stiff beneath you. there's a hard coolness about it that is welcomed on the skin of your bare legs, the shorts you wear helpful in the heat of summer but futile against the slick of sweat that sheens your skin. the chair is hard, but yet still strong, sturdy.

 you swallow dryly, heart beating fast. it's the same chair you sat at just a few weeks ago, signing the log with Joel leaning over your shoulder, before he-

you look away, around, anywhere in order to avoid the memories, hot and boiling and clawing at your mind and suffocating you until you stop breathing- and then your eyes settle, they glue themselves across the kitchen table. 

they glue themselves to him. 

fuck. 

Joel's already staring at you; his lips are downturned in that permanent grimace he always sports, the muscles of his torso rigid with immobility - perhaps he thinks if he's still enough, the ground will just swallow him whole and he won't have to do this. 

you yearn for that escape as much as he does. 

then, out of the silence; "see, this isn't so bad." 

speak for yourself, Ellie. 

both heads in the room turn to the speaker slowly, the girl watching between the two of you, more than willing to ignore the obvious disdain in the air. she's grinning like a damn devil. 

this girl's going to kill you. 

it is that bad, contrary to Ellie's statement. 

it'd been days of her begging you, with a tug on the hand, a punch to the shoulder, and countless pleads and threats until you finally caved in and accepted her proposal to have her and Joel over for dinner. 

no matter how much you detest her guardian, you just can't resist those big puppy-dog eyes, or that gigantic, youthful smile. 

for the last few months, Ellie has grown to be quite the little farmhand for you; though you like to keep to yourself on your days in the gardens, it was nice to have the girl buzzing around you and the other gardeners, pollinating each person she sees with questions like what really happens in germination and is this ripe? can I pull it? 

it's cute, how excited she is to show Joel all of the crops you've grown with her in the last few months. but what isn't cute, is that it's him that has to be here. of all people, why did Joel have to be the one Ellie chose as her father? 

because.... things weren't okay between you and Joel. 

you're not sure if you were childish for expecting for him to warm up to you after - well, after the time he bent you on this table and fucked you stupid - but you hadn't been prepared for the coldest shoulder you've ever gotten in your measly life for the last few weeks. 

it didn't help that the summer was kicking up and you needed more crops than ever for the commune; your patrolling had dwindled into maybe one or two every week or so, usually with Maria - so you didn't have to face Joel, really, at all. 

but he avoided you like the plague when in town or on your street (though, he did that with everyone) and even at the Tipsy Bison, where your presence would clean him from the room before a drop of condensation could even slide down his glass of whiskey. 

hell, maybe he even put a word in with Maria and Tommy that the last patrol together didn't go as planned; you'd even considered doing it at one point. you're not sure, but it just made you all the more irritated when you'd catch glimpses of their porch in the afternoons, Joel holding a guitar around Ellie's chest, chuckling as she strummed horribly. as if everything was okay. like you didn’t exist. 

the anger and hatred grew awful. 

it festered, grew when Maria mentioned off-handedly to Tommy that some woman, Dahlia, had taken a liking to Joel. you'd nearly shattered the glass you were holding in your fist at that; Joel, with Dahlia? that grumpy piece of shit, taking a liking to someone sweet and kind like her? 

you ought to punch his fucking face. 

you're zoned out when Ellie suddenly comes into your line of sight; reaching over your chest to grab a slice of the fresh bread you'd picked up earlier that day. you blink back into reality as Joel grunts, "E-Ellie, hey." he's shaking his head as he gestures to her arm, "use your manners." 

he sounds almost embarrassed; annoyed. your mind betrays you as it whirls back; when Joel had you pinned down on this very table, commanding you in a different way, his eyes dark with delight as you cried and writhed for him. 

but at his chastising, you send Ellie a sneaky look, rolling your eyes when Joel's looking down. the girl chuckles at that and an untrusting Joel stares daggers between the two of you. Ellie clears her throat with a smirk,  "sorry. can you please pass me the bread?" 

you grin, "why, yes, ma'am." you hand her the basket, "thank you for asking." you add to the girl on your right, your eyes on Joel's. he stares back harshly, hand grabbing for the glass of wine that sits in front of him. 

another few moments of tension before Elie decided to take it upon herself to introduce as much of the food that sits on the table in front of you as she can remember. 

peas, spinach, lentil and cabbage stew, beet salad, goat cheese and roasted carrots, cauliflower mash. fresh bread.

proteins from animals are scarce and are typically served in only the dining hall, so you decided to skip the meat and serve roasted artichoke instead. Joel doesn't look too thrilled about that as Ellie explains. you hide your scoff behind a sip of your dark wine. 

"-and, look, I planted these beets." Ellie points to the bowl on the table which houses arugula and beet salad; you smirk down at the plate as Joel hums as if interested. his eyes flicker to yours from across the table as Ellie delves in on a tangent about how bloody beets look, those dark pupils flickering over your face before flitting back to the young girl. his eyes were swimming with something else, something.... seductive. 

a shiver runs down your spine.

does he ever think about it? 

you do. you think about it every night - how his hands felt, rough, unforgiving; the look on his face, that dark smirk when he'd made you beg for him to ruin you... the frenzy in his eyes when he'd ‘taught you some goddamn manners,’ when he'd taken you apart brutally and quick. Joel was a mean, mean man. and you eat it up like a woman starved for months. 

your name calls you back to Ellie, whose eyes are wide and tracing over a rough, splintered notch in your table, "the hell is this from, is it-" her fingers jolt away at the rugged piece that slides into her skin, "shit!" she yelps, shaking her hand. 

your brows furrow, rising to help her as Joel pulls her hand towards him.  "I have tweezers." you mutter, disappearing into your bathroom to pull out your tweezers, returning to see Ellie smiling in embarrassment and Joel sitting with his arms crossed, amused irritation lacing his face. his beard is growing in more recently - you can hear the noise of the short bristles scratching his hand as he rubs his knuckles over his jawline. 

nodding, pleased that Ellie's discomfort has subsided, you set your tweezers on your right, spearing some salad on your fork as silence cradles you three yet again. 

it’s only tense and silent for a moment. then Ellie speaks, and it’s just tense.

"why is there a notch like that in your table?" she finally wheezes, as if she'd been summoned to be silent until she couldn't handle her curiosity anymore. 

you don't have to look up to know that a pair of dark eyes pin you to your chair, daring you to say something about it. 

your throat dries as you swallow your mouthful of salad, coughing a bit. 

a rip in your flannel, the grazing of your soft skin with the blade. a hand pulling hard to dislodge the knife from its home against you; the thick slide of Joel as he drags his length through your destroyed, spent core. 

"um- I-I" perhaps it's your panic, of the knowledge that his eyes are glued to you, but soon your eyes meet his; unwavering. "well. someone likes to threaten people when they can't find patrol logs." 

"Joel!" Ellie hisses, smacking his arm, "you fucking stabbed her table and didn’t do anything about it?” she’s grinning. 

"yeah, Joel," you smirk, swirling with desire as his hawkish gaze pins you to your chair, "you really should use your manners. you've ruined my table." 

"shut the hell up right now." he snaps at you, hand slamming his fork down harshly onto the plate. you and Ellie both jump at the sternness in his voice. 

you listen, for once. 

and honestly, ten minutes ago feels like heaven compared to the tenseness of this silence. 

several minutes go by, the sounds of scraping forks and knives and the meager attempts by you and Ellie to salvage a decent dinner conversation ringing soft in your kitchen. 

at least you and her are trying. 

you ignore the notch from the knife like a wildfire and pretend Joel isn't even with you; Ellie is more than enough life and laughter for you, and your playful disposition matches hers perfectly despite the joy-damper of a man sat across from you. 

he's stewing. arms crossed, chewing on food here and then, mostly listening and sighing, brushing off Ellie's jabs or playful questions or stories. he won't do anything except eat and glare at you. 

the wine bottle is nearly gone and you're not sure if it's his fault or yours. probably both. 

you snap when he just outright ignores Ellie, shaking his head with a sigh and taking another bite. the audacity. 

"-she asked you a question, Miller." you snap, fed up with his dissociative disposition. you don't even intend to say it; even Ellie looks up at your words, surprised. 

his head turns to face you too slow to be safe. his eyes are fucking furious as he mutters, "excuse me?" 

"hey, guys-" Ellie's hands are out in front of her, but you can't take your eyes off him. 

"I'm just saying, you could at least try to pay attention." you spit, crossing your arms defensively, "we made this dinner, we're just trying to have a conversation, the least you could do-" 

"you don't tell me what to do." he states, calm and cool, pointing at you. his nose flares as he breaths heavy, your own breath quickening. arousal rushes to your center and you shift on your seat. 

"-listen, maybe this was a bad idea. I knew you weren't the best of friends, but this is-" Ellie starts again, eyes flickering between you both. "this is too awkward." 

"no, Ellie, I'm sorry-" you start to say, breaking. 

you don't want her to be caught in the cross-fire of your problems with Joel; it's unfair. the further this goes, the more she'll be put in a position of mediator, so you figure it should just end now. 

"Ellie, go home." 

Joel growls the demand, eyes looking to her, his hand falling gently to her shoulder. her eyes widen, as if asking him if he's serious. 

"what?" she asks, "no! you'll-you’ll fucking stab each other or something." 

yeah, you think. you might. 

Joel's shaken off her shoulder but he's resilient, "go on, go see the kids for the movie. I'll come later. we just need to sort something out." he mutters, eyes falling to you at the tail end of his sentence. 

shivers roll down your spine; fuck, fuck - a flood of arousal hits you again, and you swallow, willing the feelings to go the fuck away. 

Ellie's scowling, but still has the decency to thank you for dinner before slamming the door hard on her way out of the threshold. 

Joel's eyes stay locked with yours until her footsteps are gone. 

it’s silent for a moment before he speaks. 

"do not fuckin' disrespect me like that in front of her again." he snaps. 

you narrow your eyes, "you're concerned that I- what, I undermined you in front of your girl?" you hiss incredulously. "come on, that's pathetic." 

"I don't like you." he snaps, shoving his plate away from him in an almost childish act of defiance. it’s shocking, the immaturity of his words so sudden. barely prompted. 

it's clear he intends to continue this little confessional of his, but you have no intention of allowing that. 

you roll your eyes, "big fucking deal. what do you want me to say?" you hiss, "sorry that I was rude, Mr. Miller! let me just cook you fucking dinner and invite you over to make up for it." 

his nostrils flare, "never wanted to do this in the first place." he mutters. 

you nearly rip out your hair in frustration. "obviously you didn't! christ, why do you always act like everything you do is a goddamn chore?" you snap, "Ellie wanted to have a nice night and show you what we've been doing- what she's been doing for this community. and all you can do is sit here and act like a fucking asshole because you don't know how to enjoy anything. it's a miracle she's still around with you, when you treat her like that." 

his jaw clicks in anger, "you have no fuckin' clue what we've been through together." his voice is close to a yell, "you don't know how much that girl means to me." 

"then why won't you show her!?" you yell. 

it quiets the room for a moment and a fleeting feeling of pride is squashed when he speaks again. 

his brows raise, a look of realization creeping onto his face. he nods his head, "I see what this is," he lets out a bitter, mocking laugh. "you want me to tell you how much I love your food? y'trying to prove to me that you're not a bad influence on her, after all?" 

you stare at him, anger clouding your sight; are there tears of frustration rimming your eyes? you hope he doesn't notice. 

"-newsflash, darlin', I don't fucking care about you." he finishes, scowl dark. "you're a nuisance. don' know why Tommy took you in, anyways. you're a foul-mouthed, untrustworthy, pathetic little slut- and jus' because you can't stop thinking about my cock doesn't mean I owe anything to you. no dinner, no fuckin- cordial neighborly attitude, nothing." 

thinking about- what?

oh, fuck him. your face burns; your jaw unhinges. of course he thinks this is about you and him. your eyes spare a quick, fleeting glance to the notch in the table before you glare, "well I don't fucking care about you either, Miller. don't be so fucking conceited." 

he laughs, shaking his head as he downs the remainder of his wine before slamming the glass down, but you're not finished. you can't let him think he's won. 

"you’re delusional. I haven't thought of it once." you spit, aflame at his accusation. you feel flustered, still caught off-guard. if anything, it was him who was obsessed with it - you see the way his eyes can't leave you; the way he adjusted his jeans earlier when you leaned over to pull a bowl from your cabinet. 

"really?" he spits, brows raised. his chest moves with the exertion of your yelling and you resist the urge to hit him or stomp your foot or anything. "yes, really." you defend, face heating up under the scrutiny of his knowing gaze. 

"anyone ever tell you you're an awful liar, sweetheart?" he drawls, raising his brows at you. 

you fume, standing up, pointing to the door, "get the fuck out, Joel." 

his eyes light ablaze with the same anger that rages in your heart as he stands, throwing his napkin on his plate, "gladly. food was great." he spits, storming out of the house with no other words. 

-- 

your scowl doesn't leave your face for the entire rest of the night. what- what the fuck was that? how dare Joel assume so much about you- he doesn't know you, at all. 

your eyes fall to the bottle in your hands.

ellie left her water canteen at your place. you were so angry, so mad earlier, that you hadn’t realized she’d left it until a few minutes ago. 

she doesn't need it, right? she could get it next time she comes round. yeah. she'll get it next time, you don't have to go over. right?

no. 

you have to go over. 

the anger within you festers just as much as the slick that plagues the apex of your thighs in the aftermath of your spat with Joel; it's a vicious cycle where you think about his tone, how condescending it was and then you get mad - but some sick part of you wants it to consume you; wants him to consume you. 

you’re fucking obsessed with him. you hate him. 

you need to hear him yell at you again- if-if anything, to get your ten cents in on the argument, and also maybe to get some good content for your wet dreams tonight. jesus christ. 

god, you're so fucked up. 

christ. 

so once you finish cleaning from the remnants of the meal, your legs are carrying you over to his house with Ellie's canteen in your hand before you can second-guess it. 

what the fuck are you doing? 

you're standing on their porch in mere seconds, your breath heavy with wrath. what if Ellie opens the door? well- you suppose, if she does, you'll give her the canteen and talk to her. probably apologize for acting the way you did. no business with Joel, then. yeah.  that’s... that’s fine. 

fuck. why do you want Joel to answer so terribly? 

you know where the answer lies - a coiling beast of arousal, consuming and muddling your mind, just at the apex of your thighs. 

Joel is a fucking asshole. you need him. now. 

your knuckles slam so hard and unforgiving against their door that there is no possibility of them assuming it's anybody else but you at their porch. their light is flickering and dim above you as you stand, canteen in hand, eyes trained forward in determination.  

the door swings open in an air of irritation. 

your face jerks back as Joel Miller stands, staring at you with the disdain of a thousand lifetimes swirling around his eyes. 

"y'here for more?" he snarks. 

your momentary hesitation melts away when his words drip from his lips. a glare pierces him through the eyes when you shove the canteen into his hands, "I'm here for Ellie. she left this." you spit. 

he lets out a chuckle, humor absent from the ring as he scratches his nose, "right." he mutters. "well she ain't home. went to the movie in town." he clips, setting the canteen on the table just inside the house. "y'need me to pass any more of your words of wisdom on to her?" he asks, voice clipped and prickled with sarcasm. 

you glare. "yeah. just do me a favor, tell her I'm sorry her dad is being a hypocritical, neglecting asshole." you snark, sending a false smile up at him as he leans with his arms crossed at the doorway.

you don't miss how he leans into it, how he's not slamming the door on your face. he wants to argue, too. "-and you can suck a dick, Mr. Miller." you add, intending to whirl away on your heel. 

he scoffs, a deep and condescending noise. "thanks for comin' all the way over to return a little canteen. g'night, darlin', hope you don't make too much'a mess when you cum all over that table again tonight thinkin' of how much I hate you. glad y'got your ten cents in." 

your face burns hot in embarrassment, and at the irony of him using the same phrase you’d thought. 

the door moves quick to shut, but your arm moves quicker. 

your hand wedges is just before it shuts, leaving you far too close to Joel than you'd like - gunpowder, pine, and dark amber whiskey surround your senses. again. 

so you shoot another fist forward, aiming for his left jaw; aiming for it to hurt.

he’s going to fucking hurt.  

it doesn't make contact with the warm skin, though: no, his hand has caught your wrist in an iron-tight grip, wrenching your arm down hard. 

you let out a gasp of surprise as he shoves you off of the door and away from him before you can blink. 

but instead of the door slamming in your face, his rough hands are pushing you hard up against the side of his garage. the door behind him remains ajar as he pushes himself into your space, growling at you as your mouth falls open in shock. 

"did you just try to hit me, girl?" he whispers, voice deadly serious. you swallow, arousal rushing down to your heat; you swear you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy as he stares hard at you, but your eyes trail down to his jeans.

you hide your smirk as you take in the stretch of the rough denim, the outline of his own arousal evident even in the dim light. he’s hard because you were going to hit him. 

your body aches as you remember the stretch of him inside you, splitting you open. your eyes flicker back up to his where he breathes heavily, expecting a response. 

you give him one. 

"yes, but you already knew that." you smirk, cocking your head as you boldly gyrate your hips forward slightly, your clothed cunt clenching in desire as you graze his hard-on. "or are you not hard right now, Mr. Miller?" you purr, your voice laced with seduction. 

his rough hand shoves your hips hard back against the wall, a growl slipping his throat. "y'got a dirty fuckin' mouth on you." his breath hits your cheeks in a warm reminder of the wine you'd both had for dinner. 

"so it wasn't because of that?" you ask, blinking in a false sense of innocence, watching as his eyes swim with an animalistic hunger. you've got him right where you want him. "was it from thinking about me touching myself? or, from remembering the last time we were together in my house?" 

his momentary lapse in recovery allows for you to go in for the final kill, "Mr. Miller,” you coo, “do you think of my pussy when you fuck Dahlia? d'you wish it was me?" you spit, smirking up at him as red splatters his furious features, "you can talk all you want, Mr. Miller, but I know you're just a greedy, desperate man who loves to pretend you have any power over me." you whisper into the shell of his ear, palm roughly grabbing the outline of his cock boldly. 

his next movements take your breath away: the shock of his fists slamming hard against the wall on either side of your head makes you jump, and his hawkish, angry eyes bore into yours. 

"get your fuckin' hands off of me. now." 

his voice is... scary. 

the blood leaves your head as your damp spot of your pants floods with desire, the fear spiking a real excitement in you. you are smart enough to follow his orders; the look in his eyes suggests you do so. 

your hands shakily fly back from his crotch to hang by your sides as you stare up at him - nervous. excited, ready. 

his eyes are narrowed, stern as his brows are furrowed low. the permanent scowl on his lips is intimidating as he holds your gaze with fierce intent. "you're gonna be real fuckin' honest with me, now. okay?" 

you swallow dryly, staring up at his face, how he's boxed you in with arms on either side of your head. you feel cornered, small; prey, hunted by predator. 

you nod smally, startled into silence, unable to speak as the ache between your legs becomes unbearable. your legs clench, searching for relief only to be disappointed at the dull sensation. 

he stares at you for a few moments, unmoving except for the flaring of his nostrils and the rising of his chest as he breathes just as heavy as you. 

"are you wet?" 

your face flushes with heat. christ, Joel is going to kill you. (if you don't kill him first). your legs feel weak, desire driving your heart rate up as you nod meekly, voice cracking out. "y-yes." 

he nods, seemingly pleased with your honesty. 

"how long have you been walkin' round with ruined panties?" his head tilts down slightly, angled down at you as if chastising you. you flush in shame, genuinely taking a moment to remember the exact moment you first noticed your underwear dampen. 

you can't admit to him that you woke up this morning with his name on your lips and a wet patch on the seat of your sleep shorts, can you? (and certainly not that it happens every day.) 

"s-since-" you take a sharp inhale, glaring at him for humiliating you like this - outside, no less. anybody could walk past or look out their window and see Joel and you like this. "dinner." 

his brows raise, the look darkening on his face. you can tell, he loves the beginning - the teasing, the arguing, the embarrassment - just as much as the end. "dinner? s'like, two hours." his frown immodest, tempting. judging. 

you nod, biting back a snide comment about Joel being an excellent time-teller, your face burning in embarrassment as you break eye contact, staring at your feet. 

"d’you like being a slut?" he asks, then. you nearly whimper at his words, the aching in your cunt burning, pulsing and clenching around nothing as you stare at him in desire. fuck Joel Miller. 

"'m not a slut." you say, but the defiant words come out more as a whine than a sharp argument. one hand falls from the wall on your left to grip onto your jaw, holding your cheeks hard as he forces your eyes back up to him. 

his nails dig into the soft flesh of your cheeks as you gasp, your own hands in fists as you resist pulling him into you. 

"that's not what I fuckin' asked, now, is it?" he sneers. you blink up at him, shaking your head after a moment of contemplation. "no, sir." you whisper meekly. you don't miss the tightening of his grip at the honorific as it falls sultry from your lips. he hums. 

"do you want me to touch you?" he asks next. you can't even have the decency to stop your whine as you nod, "yes, please." 

his other hand falls from the wall, eyes just as angry and unforgiving as he undoes the button on your shorts single-handedly. "good. don't you fuckin' look away from my eyes, y'hear me? hands down, eyes up." 

this is twice now that he hasn't let you touch him - your brows furrow, but just as he snaps in front of your face, you let the thought melt away. 

"y-yes, sir." you nod, your palms sweaty, heart thundering as he shoves his hand down the front of your shorts, breaching your underwear easily as fingers slide through the deft curls that lie just above your heat. 

"gotta warm y'up for me this time," he mutters, eyes sharp as he watches yours, ensuring they don't do as much as blink. 

it's delicious, almost too much as two of his thick fingers part the seam of your lips, your wetness spilling and coating his fingers immediately. you burn in shame, thighs starting to close over his hand. 

one ruddy, thick thigh slides to kick your leg to the side, widening your stance as he shoves you harder up against the side of the house. the tip of his finger prods at your aching hole, leaking with desperation for him. 

there are crickets outside, a steady but low staccato of music filling the summer Jackson air as one finger slowly slides into you, curling unforgivingly as you gasp, rising on your toes as he stretches you. "fuck," you whimper, throwing your head back against the wall behind you. 

the thud is dull, but it echoes around the street and it calls your attention to the very public space you're in. 

"hey." Joel snaps, one hand swatting your cheek lightly as your eyes close, "don't look away." 

you blink back at him as he pumps lazily for a few moments, watching your every micro-expression, the way your chest stutters with his motions. the noise of your arousal is humiliating against the pleasant summer breeze. 

you can't help the low moan of his name when he adds a second finger. the stretch is nothing like when it's his cock inside of you, but the strokes, the curl of his fingers start to coax a simmering coil in you that you know will explode soon. 

your eyes are still on his obediently when you nearly whisper it. 

he hears it, though, and smirks, "what was that, darlin’?" 

you groan in irritation but it splinters into a sharp moan when his fingers pick up their pace, fucking into you as you lie slack against the wall, legs trembling. 

"just- fuck me. fuck me now." you wheeze, the desire a burning snake that coils around your chest and squeezes at your heart. 

"no." he decides, eyes glaring, "can't have y'whining like a bitch again, darlin'. gotta open you up on my fingers first." the sting of his words are cushioned by the lust that swirls around his voice, the languid was his thick fingers pump up into you, holding you up against the frame of the house with a dark smirk. 

you nod, hissing in stimulation when one finger slides to start rubbing your neglected clit with just enough pressure to curl your toes; your chest is slick with sweat, fingernails digging painfully into the meat of your palm as you hum, lips sealed tight to avoid yelping out. 

your eyes flicker from his once more, scanning the street just feet away from you, paranoid of the possibility of a neighbor seeing you. 

Joel notices, of course. "what, baby, don' want the neighbors to see?" he hums, eyes cutting into you as your face flushes with heat, "y'seemed to want everybody to hear me fucking you stupid last time, didn't 'ya?" 

you groan, "fuck you, Joel." 

his hand stops its ministrations just as cold ice pours down your spine. oh, shit. 

his hand slides out of your pants, face furious. 

you shake your head, eyes welling with tears; you hadn't meant for it to slip out like that. "n-no, wait, 'm sorry, didn't mean it." you whimper, voice choked with the loss of his hand. 

he just huffs a cold chuckle, wiping his hand over his face, the other one glistening with your juices under the light of the porch. 

your panicked, desperate babble of apologies is stopped with one look from him. 

"get on your goddamn knees now." 

you shiver with excitement, tears drying slightly as you swallow, complying quickly. the cement is rough and cold under your bare knees, your hands held still together on your thighs as you stare up at him in wait. he stands tall before you; the shroud of the flickering porch light emboldening him, making him look like a god - an unforgiving one, at that - as he pulls his thick, pulsing cock from his jeans. 

your mouth waters as he starts to pump it languidly, the tip a red color from arousal, leaking precum. 

he doesn’t have to ask you to open your mouth for him, your own desire to taste him spurring you to stick your tongue out flat in wait for his dick. 

"I'm going to ask you again." he says, tapping your tongue with the weight of his length, the slapping noise flooding your underwear as you ache to feel him again. "do you like being a slut?" 

you swallow, tongue sliding along the bottom of his head as you do, muttering a slight, "yes, sir." 

"'s right. you love being my slut." he nods, your mouth open and ready for him as he thrusts his whole length into your wet, warm mouth; you gag almost immediately, his hips unforgiving as he immediately starts to fuck into your throat. you try your best to breathe through your nose, gagging as his tip pokes the back of your throat - you know there'll be a bruise that will make it painful to eat, drink, speak - you fucking love it. 

he lets out a grunt of arousal, nodding as his hands gather your hair from your face, gripping your cheeks and pushing your head back against the side of the house. 

two thrusts, a few tears from your eyes as you choke, your lungs burning for air. 

he pulls away, you suck in air with a strangled gasp. your saliva links you to his heavy cock, a chain that holds you in his grasp. "tell me you love being my slut." 

you burn at his words and in your brief hesitation, his cock is slapping at your mouth, his impatience bleeding through his actions. 

"I-" your voice is wrecked after only a few seconds of him in your mouth, but you swallow as you gasp for air, "I l-love being your slut." 

he slides himself through your slick lips again, hips a punishing pace as he fills up your mouth, your throat tight and wet. his groan echoes through the street; in the corner of your eye, you swear you see a light turn on in a bedroom window. shivers of desire run through you as you resist the urge to touch yourself. 

you can't breathe; your nose brushes against the course hair at the base of his shaft, the scent of him surrounding you as his hips try to smash you against the side of the house. 

he holds you there, hands rough on your cheeks, slapping your right cheek as it bulges with his length. you choke, gagging as you try your hardest to keep eye contact. his face is harsh, his sneer cold as he stares at you, "'s right, choke on your fuckin' words, darlin'." his hips press forward slightly and you cough around him, it's too much - tears slide down your cheeks as you try not to gag more. 

"you gonna disrespect me again?" he asks, tilting his head as spit trails down your chin, tears meeting the trail of saliva as it drips down onto your chest. 

you can only hum a nuh-uh around his cock, hoping it's enough to satisfy him. you feel yourself throb and fucking burn with need, your knees sore from the cement under you. 

you cough and sputter when he pulls himself away from you, mouth sore, jaw aching and throat wrecked. his eyes flicker over to the house across the street before he grips your shoulder, tugging you in your aroused, dazed state up to your legs. 

"oh, darlin', you're bleedin'." he coos at you, thumb swiping your cheek as you stand up. he's right: your knees are just scratched enough to speckle the skin with dark splotches of blood. you feel a tingling sensation of arousal as he hums, "let's get you inside, hm?" 

you stumble to keep up as he storms through the threshold of the house, the door swinging shut after your shaking frame falls inside. it's dark; there is only one lamp turned on in the other room. 

Joel is almost a shadow as he surrounds you, your hands falling onto his large, stiff shoulders as he pushes you against the door frame. 

your legs give out from desire soon and the two of you tumble to the ground, a mess of grunts and shoves, tearing at clothes as you whimper in desire, his own lustful groans echoing the empty house. as his pants are shucked off and your shorts are thrown across the room, your hips are shoved and flipped over until you're ass-up for him, one of his large hands moving roughly to grab a handful of your plush behind. 

your hands and knees ache, but you wiggle your ass slightly in need, not daring to speak to him. the anger that radiates from the two of you is a grenade; you can feel the tension bubbling behind your desire and so you just move back until you brush against his hard length, the fabric of your panties completely soaked as you grind against him. 

his moan echoes as a hand falls hard to slap against the skin of your ass. you let out a strangled yell, the pain stinging through you as you keen forward. you know there will be a handprint branded into you, you know it'll be sore to sit and you'll have to think of him each time. he'll consume you for days. 

you love it. 

his fingers tease the wet material that's glued to your pussy with desire, tracing over your lips lightly over the fabric. "pretty cunt, just for me." he mutters; you shake with desire when you realize it was more a mutter for him than an intentional phrase for you to hear.

"think you're ready for me, baby?" he grunts, his fingers pulling your underwear to the side, exposing your puffy, glistening cunt to him. 

"I'm so re-ready sir, please, fuck me." you beg, reduced yet again to nothing but a writhing mess for the worst man you know. 

he gives no warning, no teasing - he breaches you swiftly and rough. you scream. 

it cracks, it echoes, it's painful as you yell out, his cock heavy and huge and aching as he slides into you, sheathing you fully within a few seconds. Joel's moan reverberates on your skin as his hands grip so hard at your ass you think his fingers will remain there for days. 

he immediately sets a pace that has you squirming under him, breath choking up in your chest as you slide against the hardwood. the smell of the house is Joel - sandalwood, whiskey, pine. sex. 

your arms are tugged roughly. 

panic rises in you when you think you're about to slam your face against the floor, but as Joel pounds hard into you, he pulls your hands tight to your back, holding you up to you're suspended with just his cock working you open can keep you from falling. 

it's bliss. it's sharp, this angle; he hits into that spongy spot inside you as his cock drags against your pulsing walls, your hands clenching as your breath leaves you. 

one hand sneaks over your front, grasping at your tits as he reaches up into you deeply. then it snakes lower, rocking you forward as he swats at your clit, the sharp smack of his palm causing you to squeeeeeze around him, trapping him in your aching desire. he lets out a grunt, "fuckin'- jesus christ, girl, you're s-so tight."

the noises of your arousal swallowing his dick echo around the room in a sickening chorus. 

"dumb girl, lovin' it when I yell at her," he mutters to himself, chasing your high as he feels it spasming close around him. "gonna be o-obedient and thank me for each orgasm, 'kay?" his accent is thick in the throes of passion, you notice. 

you nod, unable to speak, unable to think as you feel the crest of something incredibly blissful; you let out a wheeze of ecstasy. "y-yes, s-sir," you choke, your voice croaking from the remnants of his dick wrecking you. 

you barely realize you're cumming until you’re screaming, a white-hot, searing arousal streaking your vision. tears are resurfacing on your eyes as he hums, "say it." 

you swallow, shakily squirming as he pounds into you, unforgiving in tone and pace. "than-thank you." 

it only takes a few more minutes and his thick hand squeezing your throat before you cum for a second time, your hands pulling at his hips, trying to escape the overstimulation of his long, dragging thrusts. the floor is slick with your juices, and so is his pubic bone. 

"thank you, s-sir." you slur out, his hand holding you by the throat against his chest, his heartbeat slamming just as fast as yours. 

soon he drops your arms, their shaky muscles barely stopping you as you fall to the floor. his chest follows you until he's smothering you, thrusts becoming weak with his own nearing orgasm. you cry, the overstimulation causing you to shake. "'s too much, too much." 

he hums, "you want me to stop?" 

"no!" you scream it, wail it; no, christ, don't stop. never stop. 

he chuckles; a dark, brooding noise. "an' you wonder why I think you're such a bad influence." he mutters into the shell of your ear as he pushes further, deeper into you; "lettin' an old man fuck you into the floor. lovin' it." 

he chuckles as you let out a whine, eyes screwing shut at the bursts of pleasure coursing through you. your knees ache.

"'s dirty, isn't it? and you love it, pretty girl." 

you let your cheek drop onto the hardwood at his ministrations, spent from your previous orgasms; the pet name makes you flush, arching your hips back. he's so deep, you feel him in your throat. each thrust pushes his tip into your cervix, a dull ache with a swirl of pleasure and ecstasy. you let out a groan, "love it, love it s'much. love it, sir, thank you." you whimper, your brain empty except for Joel Joel JoelJoel-

"good m-manners, sweet girl." he hums, pressing a hot kiss to your spine. goosebumps form in his wake, his words echoing in your brain. sweet girl. 

"you're gonna cum one more time." he orders, the thrusts of his hips grinding you down, melting you, tearing you. you nod, "yes, yes-yes, fuck, gonna-gonna cum again." you whimper, the painful overstimulation of his cock drilling through your spent, swollen folds. 

your third orgasm has you wailing, shaking your head as you convulse in pleasure, his strong grip holding your hips down as he hits your spot repeatedly, the noise of him fucking into you echoing through the foyer. 

there's tears on the floor as you shake, colors exploding behind your eyes as he whispers things you cannot hear into your ear. 

when you come to, he's still ravaging your body. 

you're limp, ecstasy flowing through your very being as his cock spears through you, hands smacking you, gripping you, grunts leaving his mouth as he nears his own orgasm, having pulled three from you. 

"where are your manners?" he whispers into your ear. you let out a broken half-laugh, half-gasp. "fuck- thank you, Joel, thank you." 

he hums in satisfaction and you swear you feel his cock twitch inside you as you utter his first name. 

he's back in your ear in seconds, surrounding you, swallowing you whole. you love it. 

"this is my pussy. mine." he grunts, "never think 'bout any other pussy. jus' this one. always." his voice is laced with desperation as he swats your ass, thrusting into you a few more times as you squirm, sobbing, throat raw. 

yours, you whimper in a chorus, body limp as he uses you; his thrusts are sloppy. he's so close- 

and he cums just as he's pulling out of you; you gasp at the loss but also as his cum shoots hot spurts across the plush curve of your ass, a bit onto your spine - most of it over your ruined pussy, streaking you in white. 

you pulse around nothing, shaking as your legs give out. he groans a deep thing, fingers falling to spread you open, the lewd noise soft and slick.

you jolt and he shushes you with a soft caress of your back. "jus' wanna see it, baby. wanna see how I ruined you." 

you swallow dryly at that, nodding as you tilt your hips, eager to feel his eyes over you, over all of you; eager for him. 

a finger smears his spend over your juices, pressing lightly at your puckered hole, pushing some of his cum back into you. "fuckin' christ, girl." 

you set out a laugh that turns into a cough of pain at the ragged state of your throat. 

he stands and leaves you on the cold floor, covered in sweat. you try not to let your heart deflate when he’s gone. 

but he returns with a rag and hands it to you before shucking his jeans on; you pull your underwear back on with shaky hands once you’ve wiped yourself clean, your body exhausted. 

you sigh. even the thought of making the trek just a few houses down to your own place is daunting as your eyes flutter. something in his eyes glint in understanding when your gazes meet each other, and he seems to get it. 

so if Joel gathers you in his arms with a grunt and a short complaint, you don't think too much about it. 

(you hate him. he hates you.)

and if he holds your head to his chest as he starts the walk back to your house, it’s not a big deal to you. 

when brings you up into your bedroom instead of leaving you at your front door as he finally carries you to your house, you chalk it up to you being nearly asleep. you must be delirious when he tucks you into your mattress and pulls your blankets up. you swear he mutters something about dinner and nice and good job. 

(what a cocky asshole.) 

it's probably a dream, when a hand caresses the sweaty skin of your forehead, brushing hair away gently before footsteps disappear through the doorway. 

. part three .

requests open

. 

[ginax0916]

₊✧ 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐞 ✧₊

Chris Sturniolo x hurt!gf!reader

Genre: Fluff

Synopsis: Chris’s gf’s ankle is broken and he helps her even when she doesn’t need help.

*I got the idea of writing this from their recent Wednesday video where Chris tried to help Matt down the stairs*

✧˖°⋆⑅˚₊

“So what did the doctor say?” My boyfriend Chris asks as I walk back into the waiting room where he waits with his brothers.

“Well if you couldn’t already tell by the boot on my foot, my ankle is broken” I sarcastically say.

“Oh shit. What even happened?” Matt asks.

“My dumbass got on the kitchen counter to reach something from the top shelf and when I jumped down I landed on it wrong and then I heard a crack and well yall know the rest” I sigh limping to them.

“Yo you sure you’re good to walk all the way to the car love?” Chris asks holding me up by my waist.

“Oh by the way y/n it would be good to invest in crutches for the first few days! Forgot to mention that earlier” The doctor says as she walks out into the waiting room to call her next patient.

“Does that answer your question?” I laugh.

We sign the papers I needed to be discharged and both Chris and Matt help me limp back to the car since I refuse to be carried like a baby.

“I’m gonna stop at Walgreens because they sell crutches there I’m pretty sure” Matt says.

“But I don’t want crutches” I sigh for the hundredth time.

“Y/n the doctor literally walked out to tell you that you need crutches. We’re buying them” Nick retorts.

“Fine whatever” I slouch down in defeat.

“Ok we’re here. Y/n stay in the car so you don’t have to walk all the way there. Do you want anything else?” Matt questions.

“Can you get me some nerd gummy clusters please? Oooh and a bottle of raspberry Iced Tea if there is any” I smile.

“Of course kid” Matt smiles back.

“I’ll stay with her in the car” Chris says.

“Alright just don’t be making out once we get back” Nick rolls his eyes as he closes the door.

“How you feel ma? Does it hurt?” Chris asks and rubs my thigh.

“I’m okay. And no it doesn’t hurt it feels fine actually” I say.

“Alright then that’s good” I nod in agreement.

“So how am I meant to fuck you with your broken ankle”

“Chris! Why is that your first concern” I laugh.

“I literally asked if it hurt 2 seconds ago!” He lifts his hands in defense.

“Wow makes such a difference Christopher” I slap his arm.

“See! Fucking you was not my first concern initially” He points his finger at me laughing.

“Yea but it was your second which is insane” I giggle.

“Come on don’t act like it wasn’t yours” He smiles sheepishly.

“Oh shut up Chris” I laugh again.

“Oh good you’re both decent” Nick says startling us as he opens the car door.

“Come on we aren’t that immature Nick” Chris says.

“Oh trust me you are Christopher” Nick pats him on the shoulder.

“What’s with people and calling me Christopher today damn” Chris turns back around in his seat.

“Y/n I got you the ice tea you wanted and along with the candy. And unfortunately they were out of stock of crutches so they let us order them online so they should arrive in like 2-3 days” Matt comments as he gets in the car handing me my stuff.

“Thanks Matt” I say. “I can go 2-3 days without walking I’m sure” I chuckle.

“I can just carry you around” Chris speaks up.

“What a delight” I sarcastically say.

“Oh come don’t act like you don’t already ask me to carry you around because you’re too lazy” He says slightly offended by my joke.

“I’m joking baby of course I don’t mind being carried around by you” I giggle.

—

“I’m gonna go pick up Canes for dinner is that good with you guys?” Matt yells from the garage.

“Yes that’s perfect thanks Matt!” I yell back.

“Wait I wanna come with you I’m bored and you always get my order wrong any way” Nick says while running down the stairs to join Matt.

“See ya guys!” Nick says.

“Bye Nick!” Both Chris and I say back.

“So what do you wanna do mama?” Chris asks, sitting down on the couch with me.

“I’m not sure. What is there to do?” I turn my body to be facing Chris and I lay my head of the cushions behind me.

“We could watch a movie, watch YouTube, play a board game or just talk. Whatever you want baby” Chris says, grabbing both my legs and draping them over his lap careful to not hurt my ankle.

“Ummm I’m not sure. But I have to pee” I say getting up. Slightly wincing at the pain of my foot touching the ground.

“C’mere” Chris mumbles, picking me up bridal style and carrying me to the bathroom.

“Thank you Chrissy” I kiss him on the cheek.

“You’re welcome and don’t call me that again” He laughs.

“Can you take my pants off for me please?” I pout.

“Oh now you’re just being a baby. Your hands work perfectly fine” Chris rolls his eyes.

“Fine me the injured person who could die any second will pull her owns pants down god” I dramatically say.

“Oh shut up and go to the bathroom babe” Chris says walking out of the bathroom laughing.

As I finish I limp into the kitchen where Chris leans against the counter.

“Hey you’re not meant to be walking you should’ve called me” Chris says picking me up and setting me on the countertop.

“I swear I’m okay love” I smile cupping his cheeks.

“Yea well the boot on your foot says otherwise” He says and grabs my waist pulling me into a warm hug.

“I love your hugs” I say nuzzling closer into him.

“And I love hugging you” He mumbles, kissing my cheek.

“Can we go to your room and watch a movie while Nick and Matt get back?” I politely ask.

“Of course we can ma” Chris smiles helping me down from the counter.

“Alright c’mon I’ll carry you down the stairs baby” He comments as he bends down ready to pick me up.

“No wait I want to do it myself” I shake my head.

“Babe the doctor said you had to be in crutches you most definitely can’t go down the stairs by yourself” Chris sighs annoyed at my stubbornness.

“Please baby? I swear I can do it” I give him my best puppy eyes to convince him.

“No don’t look at me like that ma you know I’m gonna cave” Chris covers his face with his hands.

“I’m taking that as a yes” I giggle.

“But I will be right behind you and I’m going to pick you up the second I see you stumble understood?” Chris sternly says.

“Yes I understand” I smile.

I step one foot on the first step and then the next, grabbing tightly onto the rail I limp my way down to the 4th step. Only about 15 left oh god. I thought I could do it but it hurts really bad. There’s a stinging pain on my ankle every time I step. It’s bringing tears to my eyes. But I don’t want Chris to think that I’m weak and I can’t do it. But god does it hurt. It’s getting obvious that I can’t do it, I whimper in pain every time step, tears threatening to fall. I bring my hand up to wipe my eyes but I also stepped at the same time. I lose my balance and almost fall but Chris catches me. Oh fuck.

“Hey hey I got you, you’re ok” Chris picks me up bridal style and goes the rest of the way down to his room with me in his arms. My head resting on the crook of his next softly crying. I’m not even sure if it’s because of embarrassment or pain, maybe both.

He sets be down on the edge of the bed and kneels in front of me.

“What’s wrong baby, why’re you crying that pretty makeup away hm?” Chris sweetly asks, moving my hair out of my face.

“I just- I didn’t want you to think I was weak and couldn’t do it myself” I quietly replied with my voice cracking.

“Oh baby you’re not weak. You just have a literal broken ankle. Asking for help sometimes is never being weak ok? I will never ever judge you for anything especially not being able to go down the stairs with a broken ankle. I’m always here for you ma” Chris comforts me, rubbing my arms soothingly.

“Thank you Chris” I smile leaning it to hug him.

“I love you” He kisses my cheek, hugging me back.

“Who wants Canes!!” Matt yells from the top of the stairs.

“You gonna let me carry you now mama?” He laughs as he picks me up, my legs going around his waist carefully with my ankle.

“Took you guys long enough! I’m starving” Chris laughs.

✧˖°⋆⑅˚₊

[m0nsterqzzz]

Something Stupid

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

summary: and then she goes and spoils it all by saying something stupid like...."I love you."

content: absolute teeth rotting fluff. pining for each other but wandas is much more intense? tiniest bit of blackhill if you squint.

a/n: had this idea for a while, and I actually kinda like it??? idk. first time for everything. reader is referred to as "sweets" like twice just because I love the nickname. it's what my boyfriend calls me. anyway. love yall!!

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Wanda Maximoff loves you.

She’s known that for years.

She’s known it since she first became an avenger and felt a strange urge to gain your forgiveness over everyone else's after what her and her late-brother Pietro did during the battle against Ultron.

She knew it when you became her best friend, teaching her how to control her magic and really just how to enjoy life.

She knew it when she had to watch as you got ready for dates with people that would never live up to your standards. Not she thought she would live up to your standards- no, she knew she couldn't- but she did know she treat you better then any of those no good pigs who are just looking for a fuck buddy ever good. The witch wouldn’t go up against your suitors though, just standing on the sidelines as her heart slowly breaks faster and faster the more you don’t see her in the same light you do them.

Little she did she know, she was the only one you truly wanted.

So finally, Wanda worked up the courage to ask you out so she no longer had to cry into her pillow while you were out sucking face with someone else.

Surprisingly, you agreed easily. The only thing you had to say was that she had to promise it wouldn’t change anything between you guys for the worse. If it didn’t work, you guys couldn’t become like Natasha and Maria. (those girls can’t be in the same room as each other for more than 2 seconds without making a backhanded comment about their four week long situationship)

The Maximoff girl agreed, eagerly setting up a dinner date.

It had quickly gone wrong.

The reservation was somehow not in the book despite the fact that Wanda called the fancy dinner place with insane prices about six times in the hour-long drive there. So you told her it was fine, that you’d be happy with some food from the delicious Thai place down the road as long as you were with her. But they were out of your favorite and Wanda ate so much that she felt ready to barf as you guys walked out of the restaurant- that was before she actually did barf in the parking lot. 

Finally, you guys headed to a bar near the Avengers tower for a quick nightcap, but that quickly turned into you both downing two drinks each before stumbling onto the dance floor.

A sweet looking old man who’s been reading a comic book in the corner sees you two and decides to put his own change in the jukebox and press play on a slow, but peaceful song. He sends you guys a smile, winking Wanda's way before he continues to read about some cool looking superheroes.

Wanda’s hands fall to your waist, gently gripping them as you both sway. Your head falls to lay on her shoulder, arms wrapped around the back of her neck as the music fills your ears. Her breath is on the back of your neck, warm, but it doesn’t even begin to compare to the feeling of her lips as she places a gentle kiss in that same spot. 

Then she goes and spoils it all by saying something stupid like, “I love you, sweets.”

You roll your eyes, thinking back to how many times people have told you that during first dates just to get in your pants. Though you will admit that when you hear Wanda say it, it brings a small, warm, fluttering feeling to your chest, and you manage to let out a small giggle before you say, “No you don't. You don’t love me Wanda. You like me. There’s a difference.”

She fights the urge to tell you that she knows there is a difference between love and like. She knows that because she’s felt both those ways towards you. Why can’t you just understand that so she doesn’t have to find a way to put it into words?

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

After a few days of her saying the same thing and you never believing her, the witch realizes she has to put it in words. Nothing else is capable of explaining how she feels about you. How she’s felt for so long.

So she recruits Natasha and Clint for help, and they spend the day working on some speeches. By 2pm, she has this;

“Are you from Tennessee? Cuz you’re the only ten-I-see.” - A line from Natasha which she used on Maria who was passing by at that moment just to prove to Wanda it works. (Natasha left and was found leaving the agents room an hour later. Apparently that’s back on)

“I love you.” - Clint Barton, the stupidest man on earth. There is a reason people call him bird brain. They were there because the three words are not enough to describe what she feels towards you. Did he even read what was on the brunch invitation? It clearly stated; “fixing Wanda's love life; no I love you’s, no magic town in which she controls so she can make Sweets fall in love with her against their will.”

“Hey, do you have wifi? Cuz I’m really feeling a connection.” - Natasha. She once again used it on Maria and was gone for another two hours. Can someone please address this?

“Start listing facts about the baby turtles you saved. Always gets the ladies.” - from Tony, who was walking by the living room and decided now was the best time to interrupt. He has never once gotten close enough to endangered animals to be able to ‘save’ them, but we can pretend if he wants too.

“Are you a beaver? Cuz dam.” - Natasha. (someone needs to restrain Maria from jumping the redheads bones. She is literally needed at this meeting.)

So, as we can see, no one is any help. 

She decides after that to just go with her gut, and her gut is telling her that you’ll know when the time is right, and hopefully will send her a sign.

Maybe the sign is sooner rather than later.

The witch spends about an hour in her bedroom in front of her mirror, trying on every outfit from sweats and a t-shirt to the 10,000 dollar dress Tony bought her for her birthday. Which clothes would draw your attention to her? She thinks about that alot, which is why she wears different outfits everyday simply in hopes of you sending her a small compliment. She always spends countless amounts of time planning the perfect outfit just to hear you say, “You look pretty Wans.”

Why is this happening to her?

It’s when she sets up a cute little picnic under the stars with all your favorite foods and snacks and a makeshift tv screen with a projector to watch your favorite film do you realize that you are deeply and utterly in love with Wanda Maximoff.

She’s sweet, and pretty. She can always make you laugh when you truly think you no longer can.

And besides all that, she’s your best friend. The one that will stick with you through thick and thin simply because she wants to be beside you.

You can’t help but feel your cheeks beginning to heat up every single time she even glances in your direction, let alone actually speak to you. You can feel your stomach flutter with a mix of excitement and nerves as she just… exists.

You don’t tell her that though, afraid of getting your feelings hurt.

You just sit down on the nice thick blanket with her, grabbing some grapes to give a few to her and a few to herself as she presses play on the movie. It’s silent other than the sound of the movie, but she can hear your thoughts louder than any film. It’s not like she’s trying to read your mind. The witch vowed to herself to never use her magic on you unless it was necessary or life saving. That includes mind reading. Your thoughts are too loud though, and even with the amount of control she has over her powers, they still fill her head as she tries to focus on the movie.

“I love her.”

“She says she loves you.”

“She doesn’t mean it.”

“Yes she does.”

“No she doesn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter. I love her.”

Your internal battle on if she truly does love you or not breaks her heart into a million pieces, though she doesn’t want to call you out on it and make you feel uncomfortable. So you guys continue silently watching the movie. She doesn’t mention your loud thoughts, and you don’t mention that you can feel her eyes burning into the side of your face as she stares.

When the movie is over and the projector turns off, you guys sit in the darkness of the night. There are stars dressing the night sky, so you silently look at them as Wanda turns on her side so she can gently pull you closer to her. 

The moment is perfect; looking up at the stars in each other's warm embrace, your back pressed against her front and she moves around until she snuggles her head into the crook of your neck, so close to you that your perfume fills her senses and puts her into a peaceful bliss. Your truly happy as is she, and this time, as she says the tree words, you find yourself believing her;

“I love you.”

She doesn’t regret it or cringe out of embarrassment when she says it like she did last time. The witch just lets the words hang in the air. If you choose to say them back, you do. If not, at least you'll understand how much she truly means it.

“I love you.” You whisper back with new found confidence, and her chest fills with warmth and pure happiness. You finally believe her. Her words sounded so sincere and simple, not like the drunk words she said a few days ago. It’s the only reason you feel okay telling her the truth. You love Wanda Maximoff.

“I love you.” She mumbles, leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

[minhosimthings]

Preview: Heaven and Back || SJY, PSH

In which you buy leashes for your favourite pup and kitten.

Pairings: kittyHybrid!Sunghoon × puppyHybrid!Jake × sugarmommy!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, hoon and Jake are hybrids, not much hybrid stuff just tails and ears, dom!reader, sub!JakeHoon, threesome, anal sex, p in v, oral (f and m), leashes (on JakeHoon), degradation, praise, swearing, choking, breath play, masturbating (m), reader is Jakehoon's sugar mommy, unprotected sex (not for you), edging, cumming inside, use of 'mommy', includes Yunjin of Lessreafim

A/N:: so this is just some porn for yall which I will be posting three days from now! I specifically wrote this for my beloved @jaeyunluvr who helped me make the banner (she's my designer genius) and I hope she'll go mental when I post the smut hehe

Song rec: Heaven and Back by Chase Atlantic

Taglist: CLOSED

Status: POSTED

“Whose great idea was it to visit this place again?” Yunjin tilted her head back at you, “Because I am never leaving.” 

“Freak.” You chuckled, running your hand through some soft foam objects of whose purpose you had no idea, “And it was my great idea, thank you very much.” Yunjin turned to you holding up a million scrunchies in her hands.

“Buy these for me.” She said with a dead-pan face making you burst into laughter, “Oh come on, you’re rich enough,” She looked greedily down at the velvety hair-ties, “Please, mommy?” 

“Huh Yunjin, never call me that ever again.” You said in between snorts of laughter, “Plus, I’m here for some more expensive stuff.” 

“Babe, we’re in a literal sex store.” Yunjin said, eyeing some very pink vibrators hanging in the corner, “Everything here is expensive.”

“Fuck capitalism dude.” You sighed, walking deeper into the large store. Everything In there transported you into a retro-american Lana Del Rey music video, with nostalgic pinks, reds and blues covering every inch of it. You wondered mindlessly what on earth scrunchies were doing at a place like this, when you heard Yunjin gasp.

“Y/N look!” She said excitedly like a child in a candy shop, “Look at these beauties.” You followed your eyes up to where she was pointing, and softly chuckled, sleeping your hands into the pockets of your pants.

Leashes.

Gloriously long, magnificently coloured, leashes.

“Are you alright hun?” You said, raising your hand up to pull one of the black coloured ones down from its hanger, “It's not like you to suggest leashes.” Your fingers toyed with the metal chain of the scandalous thing in your hand. You tugged at the price tag to see how much the gorgeous thing was worth.

After all, you only wanted the best for your boys.

“Well isn't this cheap?” You handed the leash to Yunjin who widened her eyes and looked at you as if you had gone positively insane.

“Cheap?” She whispered dramatically, “150 dollars is cheap to you?” She scoffed before she put the leash back on its hanger, “Damn mommy, you are rich.” 

“Careful Jinnie, you’re still my assistant.” You chuckled, as you pulled your hands out of your pockets and placed one each on your hip, “Well, I think I’m gonna take two of these.”

“For the boys?” Yunjin asked, putting a thoughtful finger to her chin, “Hmm..I think the blue one and the white one will be nice!”

“Good eye.” You complimented her, letting her pull those ones off. You took the white one in your hand, which had a little bow attached to it, thinking about how cute Jake would look in it. The blue would certainly suit Sunghoon, what with his porcelain skin suiting almost any and every colour.

“Should I go and ring them up then?” Yunjin asked to which you nodded.

“Oh and Jinnie.” You called just as she was about to leave, “Get as many scrunchies as you want.”

Yunjin smiled at you brightly and skipped off to find scrunchies in her favourite colour, leaving you alone to explore more of the shop. From the exterior of the shop, you would never have guessed that it was such a large one, with the endless rows of goodies never coming to a stop. You ought to have brought Jake and Sunghoon here one day; you knew they’d certainly enjoy it. 

From the day you’d met both of them, you’ve practically been inseparable. Being a hot-shot business woman in an industry dominated by old men and young fools took a toll on your mental health. If only you had someone to help you take all that stress out. It was Yunjin who had convinced you to follow the ridiculous idea of having a sugar baby–or perhaps even two.

And that was how a puppy-hybrid Jake and kitten-hybrid Sunghoon came into your life, eagerly helping you relieve your stress after a long day signing paperwork and calculating the misogyny. But they had grown into more than just average sex toys. They were also the careful and safe arms that you could slip into whenever you needed to, the gentle hands that would run through your hair on a peaceful night, and the peculiar minds who could convince you to take a break everytime you were on the verge of bleeding through your nose.

So you obviously had to get them a present for your two-year anniversary right?

Taglist: @starfallia @katarinamae @lyxnneee+ ask or comment to be added!

[sematarygirls]

stop i’m literally so in love with your acc, it’s gorgeous!!!! missed you sm. need to start writing or creating something again tbh but idk what.

anywaysss had this super cool drummer!rafe idea where they’re all like mid-20s and were suspected of murder (maybe a roadie died or an ex bandmate??)

buttt there you are interning with the local police department (aka nancy drew nerd) and go poking around (woah somehow you end up in rafe’s arms what a coincidence). maybe he did it or maybeee he didn’t, who knows. ur just a silly little inter.. right?? unless ofc this wasn’t the first time you met and you both did it together?

anyways do what you wish with this, feel free to let it rot. ur a genius mastermind either way. ily mwahhh

(here’s some drew pics mini moodboard bc why not)

Partners In Crime — Rafe Cameron.

pairing: drummer!rafe x policeintern!reader

summary: your internship at the kildare county sheriff's department proves extremely useful after ex-bandmate of local rock sensation, morphine animals, is found murdered.

warnings: smut! semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, murder, inaccuracies regarding police work

word count: 3.6k words !

a/n: this request is AMAZING omg!! your mind is literally so incredibly brilliant. i am so incredibly jealous. i just want to scoop it out and study it because your plots are always so genius it's insane. also, i got a little freaky with this request. i don't know where it came from, but i hope yall enjoy. side note, i know nothing about police stations or internships beyond what I've seen on tv, so this is most likely very far from anything that would happen in real life.

✶ . ࣪ ׅ   You cursed quietly, swatting a mosquito away from you as your fingers danced along the collection of files, skimming through the box of evidence labeled "Ryder, Elliot". It was July, and the summer was in full swing. the air was thick and heavy, causing a layer of sticky sweat to cling to every inch of your body. The cramped storage room seemed to be at least 10 degrees hotter than the rest of the police station, and it had the added bonus of recycled air that smelled of dust and mildew.

Your gaze flickered between the door and the police report in your hands, readying yourself to be caught any moment now. Technically, you weren't supposed to be looking at anything in this room. You were simply an intern, and as such, your jobs mostly consisted of clerical work like running the front desk, answering phones, and filling out the occasional police report—typically for some misdemeanor offense that they had granted you competent enough to navigate your way around.

On a normal day, you did not have clearance to be in this little room with all the important documents pertaining to cases ranging anywhere from vandalism to first-degree murder. However, on this particular day, you had been instructed to organize and clean the records room, ensuring that everything was dusted off and placed in alphabetical order.

You knew you weren't really supposed to take a peek into any of these boxes, but when you saw the name Elliot Ryder on one of the boxes, you simply couldn't help yourself. It was the biggest case your town had seen in the last decade.

"Local rock legend Morphine Animal's ex-band-mate found murdered" had been splashed across headlines for weeks, each news site ranging from local to national discussing the case and their theories, but surprisingly much of the case had remained a mystery.

Morphine Animals had been practically untouchable ever since they skyrocketed to fame. It was truly fascinating how quickly they went from small-town rockstar wannabes to household names. They became a national sensation practically overnight, and it all started when Elliot Ryder was fired as the band's drummer and replaced by Rafe Cameron.

You remembered it vividly. Elliot went around telling everybody who would listen how he was cheated out of fame. The other three band members had been his childhood best friends. The band was their passion project and they had vowed to do it all together, but then, one night, they just dropped him out of the blue, and Rafe Cameron took his spot.

People couldn't help but wonder if the band's colorful history had anything to do with the murder. The whole situation would've made more sense if Rafe was the one murdered. It would be open and shut. Elliot killed Rafe to get back at him for taking his spot and stealing the fame that was "rightfully" his, but revenge just doesn't quite sit right with the case being turned around.

Rockstar drummer that has it all kills small-town drunk nobody? It just doesn't fit.

You turn your attention back to the police report in hand. You didn't have much time left before someone inevitably needed a file or came to check on you, so you needed to focus, read it, and put everything back where you found it before that happened.

Case Number 0608

Responding Officer: Sheriff Susan Peterkin

On 06/28/2023 at approximately 2100 hours, I responded to a noise complaint at 2971 Shorecrest Drive.

I knocked on the front door, but there was no answer. I announced myself as the police and knocked once more, but again, received no answer. I looked into the window for signs of life, and saw Elliot Ryder laying prone on the living room floor with a pool of blood around him. I immediately radioed for assistance and kicked down the door. I checked his pulse and discovered that Ryder was deceased. While I waited for assistance, I secured the scene. At approximately 2110 hours, Deputy Victor Shoupe, Officer Danielle Lyonne, and Officer Franklin Hewitt arrived on scene. Officers Hewitt and Lyonne canvased the surrounding homes and took their statements to find out if anyone had seen or heard anything. Their individual statements are enclosed. Deputy Shoupe called for the coroner and cordoned off the area while I began assessing the crime scene in a spiral method. Pictures included document the blood patterns and shattered glass discovered at the scene. No murder weapon was discovered.

I instructed Deputy Shoupe to stay at the scene and await the coroner's arrival while I headed back to the station. At approximately 2330 hours, I left the scene.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you read over the report. You used the back of your hand to wipe the beads of sweat that had formed on your forehead—created from a mix of the unbearable heat and your growing nervousness as the moments ticked by—stopping them from dripping down your skin.

Your gaze darted to the door once again before returning to the files, pulling out a series of pictures that documented the crime scene.

He was found on his stomach, the hair on the back of his head matted with blood. The cause of death was blunt force trauma, and it was very evident from the crime scene photos.

You turned your attention from the photos documenting his body to the ones showing the state his living room had been left in. There was broken glass from a shattered mirror near the front door coating the carpet, and the living room looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Furniture had been turned over, his belongings strewn about in a disorganized fashion. It seemed like whoever had been there was looking for something.

Something in one of the photos caught your eye. It was small, almost imperceptible, but the flash from the camera reflected off something imbeded into the cream colored carpet just beneath the table that Elliot's body was found beside.

Your brows furrowed as you brought the photo closer to your face, squinting to get a better look.

The sound of footsteps approaching made you jump. You quickly folded the picture and shoved it into your pocket before placing the photos and police report back into the box and hauling it onto the shelf.

"Hey, kid," Deputy Shoupe peeked his head inside, the sound of him chewing his gum seemingly reverberating off the walls. You turned, your face flushed, and your heart practically beating out of your chest. You had managed to get everything in order moments before he opened the door.

"Uh, yes, sir?" You cleared your throat, brushing away a strand of hair that had gotten stuck to your sticky forehead.

"Boss lady needs the Ryder files," he informed you, still smacking his gum. The sound filled your ears, somehow louder than the beating of your own heart.

You nodded, swallowing hard as you turned and grabbed the box, the piece of paper in your pocket feeling like it weighed a ton as you carried the heavy box over to him. "Can I ask why?" You worked up the courage to ask, handing him the files, your palms sweaty as you pulled back.

"Just got done interviewing Rafe Cameron," he told you, propping the box under his arm. Your eyes widened a fraction. Why was Sheriff Peterkin reinterviewing him? Was there new evidence to connect him to the murder? "So, she wants to take another look at the evidence."

"Oh," you simply said, the room seeming to grow hotter. "Whew, god, it's hot," you huffed, fanning yourself. "Are you hot?" You asked, clearly not doing well at playing it cool.

"You alright kid?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow curiously at your odd behavior.

"Yeah, I think I'm just gonna step outside and get some air," you nodded, suddenly feeling very suffocated in the stuffy atmosphere.

"Sure, whatever," he shrugged, clearly not all that interested in you or your actions as he turned on his heels to deliver the box to Peterkin.

You hurried down the long, grey corridor, pushing the backdoor open harshly when you arrived at it. Outside wasn't much cooler, but the small, shaded alleyway provided reprieve from the sun's unrelenting rays. You took a few deep breaths, feeling better now that you were breathing fresh, clean air.

"You look like shit," a voice piped up. Your head whipped to the side, eyes finding the source. Rafe Cameron was leaned up against the wall, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He was wearing a white tank top that clung to him like a second skin. the heat was just as unforgiving on him, his muscles glistening and his hair sticking out in all directions, a few strands clinging to his slick forehead.

"Excuse me," you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Truthfully, you knew you probably did look like shit. You were sweating like a pig, your clothes clinging to you uncomfortably, and after hours of running your hands through it and being subject to intense humidity, your hair was undoubtedly frizzy and wild.

Rafe pushed off the wall, taking one last drag before flicking the cigarette onto the ground and crushing it under his boot. His blue eyes locked onto yours, amusement dancing in them as he approached you. "I'm just sayin'," he drawled, his voice a low rumble.

"Yeah, well, you don't look too hot yourself," you rolled your eyes. It was a lie, of course. Somehow, he even made sweating to death in the sweltering July heat look sexy. It was utterly infuriating.

He grinned, amused at your attempt to insult him, but he could see right through you. "You mad at me or somethin'?" His hand reached out and wrapped around your wrist, his grip sending shivers down your spine.

"You just said I looked like shit," you glared at him. The heat was making you irritable, and it didn't help that his stupid fucking earring—that you'd told him twenty goddamn times to take out—had showed up in a crime scene photo.

Rafe's thumb began to trace circles on the inside of your wrist, his touch sending electric jolts through your body. "C'mon, you know I was just teasing you, baby," he murmured, his voice soft and seductive. He knew how to play your body better than he knew how to play his drums.

You stubbornly pulled away from him, ignoring the way your body reacted to his touch. "You're lucky I got saddled with file room duty, asshole" you gritted out, pulling the picture from your back pocket and shoving it into his muscular chest.

Rafe wore a silver stud in his ear, a staple of his rockstar persona, and that little glimmer of reflected flash in that crime scene photo was that stud, which had fallen out during the murder.

Thankfully, it hadn't been logged into evidence and had been completely overlooked by the bumbling small town crime scene techs, so you only had to take the photo to keep that little piece of incriminating evidence from ever being discovered.

Rafe glanced down at the photo, his expression unchanging as he took it in. He looked back up at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You worried about me, babe?" He asked, his voice laced with mockery, but there was a harder edge to it that betrayed his unperturbed demeanor.

"No," you shot back, your brows furrowing in frustration. God, the heat was making you bitchy. "I'm worried about myself. I mean, I covered up your little fuck up perfectly. The last thing I need is for you and your lame ass jewlery to fuck me over."

Rafe's hand snaked out and wrapped around your throat, his grip tight but not painful. He backed you up against the brick wall, his eyes boring into yours. "You think I can't take care of my own shit?" He asked, his voice a low growl. His patience was clearly wearing thinner and thinner by the second. He was already agitated at being ripped away from band practice to do this little song and dance with the police. The last thing he needed was you bitching at him and challenging his capabilites.

"If you could take care of your own shit, you wouldn't have called me in the middle of the night panicking because you fucking killed someone," you retorted, not backing down. You weren't afraid of him in the slightest. You knew what he was capable of, but it didn't scare you. In fact, there was a twisted part of you that liked knowing about his violent side.

Rafe Cameron had been the one to kill Elliot Ryder in cold blood, and he'd called you up moments after because he knew your experience as a police intern would come in handy. You had rushed over and helped him stage the whole thing as a burglary gone wrong. Unfortunately, Rafe hadn't realized his little wardrobe malfunction until it was too late to go back and retrieve it.

His face darkened, his hand tightening around your throat. "I had it handled," he hissed. "Until you showed up and decided to play detective." His other hand reached down, gripping your hip possessively. "You're supposed to be on my side, not throwing my mistakes in my face."

"Then stop making dumb fucking mistakes," you spat, your jaw clenching in annoyance. You could feel your panties growing wetter by the second, which only fueled your frustration toward him. You hated how he could still make you want him even when he was being a complete asshole.

Rafe's face twisted with anger, but beneath it, you saw a flicker of something else—desire. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your lips. "You know, I should just shut you up for good," he muttered, his grip on your throat unyielding.

"Yeah?" You asked, your voice almost taunting. "You gonna kill me, Rafe?" You looked him in the eye, not backing down. "Who's gonna clean up your messes then, huh?"

His expression turned grim, and for a monent, you thought he might actually do it. But, then, without warning, he crushed his mouth to yours in a rough, bruising kiss. His hands tightened further on your hip, pressing against your body and pinning you in place.

He bit down hard on your lip, drawing blood. His tongue darted out, lapping up the blood and soothing the wound as his thumb rubbed over your pulse point, feeling the way your heartbeat quickened with desire. His mouth tasted of nicotine, stale beer, a slight hint of mint, and then the metallic taste of your blood on his tongue. If it were anyone else, you would've recoiled in disgust, but something about him was intoxicating.

He was so close you could feel his bulge pressing into you, and it only made you want him more. You didn't care that you were pressed against a wall in the back alley behind the police precinct, in fact, something about it, the potential thrill of getting caught, turned you on more.

Rafe's hands moved to grip your ass under your skirt, roughly palming the fatty flesh with his rough hands. He broke the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, where he bit down hard enough to leave a mark. "You drive me fucking crazy," he growled.

"Yeah, well you're fucking insufferable," you said breathlessly, tilting your head to the side and threading your fingers into his hair as he continued his assault on your neck.

He grunted in response, his hands squeezing your backside painfully before he pulled away to fumble with his belt, the buckle clanking loudly in the otherwise quiet alley.

As he fiddled with his belt, you took your opportunity to latch your lips onto his neck, the salty taste of his skin mixed with the thin layer of sweat coating him danced on your tongue as you sucked and nipped at the areas you knew would drive him wild.

Rafe's breathing hitched as you marked him, his body stiffening. He finally got his belt undone and his pants unbuttoned, shoving them down just enough to free his hard length.

He gripped your thighs, hoisting you up and pressing you hard against the wall as your legs wrapped around his waist. "Think you need to learn your place," he said darkly, pulling your panties to the side.

With one swift movement, he thrust deep inside you, filling you completely. He held you pinned against the wall, his hips rolling into yours in deep, punishing thrusts. "You're supposed to worship the ground I walk on," he muttered, his voice ragged.

You gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he began to move, his powerful hips snapping back and forth as he pounded into you. His blue eyes, darkened with lust, locked onto yours, watching your face intently.

"Answer me," he demanded, his voice low and menacing. He slowed his pace, his hips rolling leisurely, his thick length stretching you wide. He knew his slow pace was like torture to you. "Tell me you worship me, baby."

"Fuck," you moaned, your face scrunching in a mix of pain and pleasure as the brick wall dug uncomfortably into your back. "I worship you, Rafe."

A smug grin spread across his face at your words, his pace quickening as he continued to slam into you, his hips rolling in that way that always hit that spot inside you, making you practically see stars. "Good girl," he praised, his lips finding yours again.

Your arms snaked around his neck, fingers curling into his hair and tugging slightly as his mouth swallowed your little whimpers and moans.

He released your mouth, his head tilting down to watch where you were joined. He let out a low groan, his body tensing as he watched himself disappear inside of you. "Look at you taking me so well," he gritted out, his pace quickening.

You gasped when you felt his thumb begin rubbing tight circles on your clit, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. "Such a dirty fuckin' girl," he growled. "Letting me fuck you in an alleyway, behind a police station no less." His lewd words only served to heighten your arousal.

His other hand reached up to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you dizzy as he continued to pound into you. "I'm going to fill this pretty little cunt with my cum," he snarled, his voice echoing off the brick walls.

His words paired with his grip on your throat and the way he was pounding into you sent you over the edge, your eyes rolling back as you moaned his name.

His hand on your neck tightened possessively as you came apart for him, his own release following shortly after as he felt your walls squeeze down on him, milking his cock. He buried his face against your neck, his breathing hot and ragged against your skin. "That's my girl."

You panted, your head falling back against the brick as you caught your breath, your mind reeling as the weight of what you'd just done crashed over you. It was reckless and stupid to have let that happen, especially behind the police station you worked at. If anyone saw you, it could raise some serious red flags.

Rafe slowly lowered you back to the ground, pressing one last kiss to your swollen lips before tucking himself back into his underwear and pulling his jeans up, refastening his belt. He leaned against the wall beside you, lighting a cigarette as he looked you over with a lazy smirk. "Try not to look so guilty."

"Don't be an asshole," you shot him a sharp look, fixing your skirt and blouse. Now, you had to go back to work and act as if you didn't have a murderer's cum leaking out of you.

Rafe took a long drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out in a slow stream. He watched you intently, his eyes glinting with amusement as he observed you straighten your hair and adjust your collar, trying to regain some semblance of professionalism. "I'll pick you up after your shift. We've got a few more things to discuss."

"You can't pick me up here," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, pushing off from the wall and taking a few slow steps closer to you. "And why not?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. He knew very well why not, but he wanted to hear you say it.

"Don't play dumb, Rafe," you rolled your eyes. He could be so very infuriating when he wanted to be.

"Say it," he insisted, his voice firm. He took another step closer, towering over you. "Tell me why I can't pick you up here." His hand reached up, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a deceptively gentle touch.

You huffed frustratedly, narrowing your eyes at his insistence. "Because you killed Elliot Ryder, and I'm your fucking accomplice," you relented.

Rafe's hand tightened, gripping your cheeks firmly, his touch bordering on painful as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Shhh," he whispered, his voice dark and threatening. "You shouldn't go around saying things like that, baby."

You glared up at him, your annoyance evident in your gaze. Everything always had to be a game with him, and sometimes it utterly maddened you.

Rafe's lips curled into a smirk as he pulled back, his hand falling away from your face. "I'll pick you up around the corner," he said, as if the matter was settled. He took another drag of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and heading down the alleyway to his car.

You watched him leave, your gaze burning holes into his back for a moment as he retreated before you shook your annoyance away, pulling the back door to the station open and heading back inside.