#FUCK THIS NOISE FUCK THIS NOISE FUCK THIS NOISE

[amytrash]

Don't really post stuff, just reblogs but ya, always a safe space here 🫶🏼🫶🏼

REBLOG IF YOU ARE AGAINST TRUMP AND PROJECT 2025

REBLOG IF YOUR BLOG IS A SAFE SPACE FOR PEOPLE WHO NO LONGER HAVE ONE IRL

[gojosprettyprincess]

Thinking about Pervert Yuji who loves and adores cutesy, girly girls who are shy and get flustered sooo easily. The ones whose face visibly heats up the second they receive a sudden compliment and cutely stutters their words when he stares them dead in the eye while talking.

The ones who act innocent and pure but their cunts immediately gets wet and aroused by his gross, perverted acts like when he’d quietly creep up behind you while you’re washing dishes and boldly grabs and squeezes two handfuls of your tits—his cock straining in his pants at the involuntary moan that escapes your soft lips as you plead and beg him to stop his assault.

He also loves the ones that are so obsessed and fixated on him that they hump the life-size teddy bear that he gifted you on Valentine’s Day—dragging your needy, wet core on the soft fabric, soaking it with your arousal as the sensation of the material rubbed against your clit in such a delicious way. The shiny, pink jewel plug that matched the color of his hair that you secretly bought because it reminded you of him, peeks out between the curves of your cheeks as the cool metal that stretched you out, jabs deeper against your inner walls as you rocked your hips.

Soft whimpers of desire flow from your glossy lips as your head falls back… your breath hitching with anticipation, “Yujii…fuck, wanna sit on your pretty cock till I make a dirty mess” you moaned sweetly, imagining his fat tip rubbing through your folds—smearing his pre-cum everywhere as your hand instinctively rises to caress your tits—imagining it was his hand, fondling with it in the lewd, perverted manner that he always does it in…

Not aware of the pair of perverted brown eyes lingering from the doorway, practically eye fucking you as he palmed his hardened cock, gently squeezing and teasing it through his pants to feel some type of friction—carefully trying not to make too much noise so you won't notice him because oh he loved the fucking show so much. His face is flushed pink with blush— almost the same color of his hair as you continued moaning out his name and begging him to fuck your little pussy even though, to you he wasn’t there. He tenderly dragged his tongue over his lips—licking it, the second he spots the pretty plug snugly nestled in your asshole. The color immediately catches his eyes—so cute of you to think of him this way. God you were just sooo perfect for him.

–––

“Yujiii, stop don’t– don’t stare please!” You begged shyly, your eyes screwed shut as you buried your face into the Kirby plushies that he bought for you. “Shhh baby, m’just admiring you… your pussy is so cute y’know that? It’s drooling s’muchh for me” he cooed softly, his thumb rubbing smoothen circles on your sticky clit as he stared at the wet white gush slowly steeping out of your pussy. The sensation of his touch was electrifying, sending shivers down your spine as you felt a surge of desire wash over you.

“Mmm s’adorable baby,” he gingerly praises, his warm breath tickling your skin as he eagerly planted wet kisses on different areas of your butt, causing a symphony of soft moans to cascade from your lips. The sensation causes your body to arch even more in pleasure, making you relaxed yourself.

But that relaxed feeling quickly turned into panic when you felt his glossy pink lips on the entrance of your butthole, he moved both hands to the sides of your ass—spreading your cheeks apart so he can gain a closer view at your tiny o-ring. “Stopp…not there please!” you muttered defeatedly trying to assert your boundaries as his lips continued to press against your fluttering opening.

“But babyyy, I think she likes it—you should see how cutely she’s winking at me…so eager, just like you, pretty girl” he purred playfully, he leaned closer and stuck his pink tongue out and began swirling the tip against your puckered muscles, the slight tingling of the wetness from his tongue sending shivers down your shine as you clenched your hole tightly in response, your hands clutching the sheets as you buried your face further in embarrassment.

He felt as if his cock was about to explode in his boxers as he tried to pry your little hole open but failed miserably—if it was that tight that it couldn’t even handle his tongue, imagine how it’d feel wrapped around every inch of his pulsating length. With the plethora amount of carnal thoughts and dirty ideas racing through his brain...unfortunately for you, it’s going to be a long and forgetful night. Because Yuji always gets what wants, one way or another. :3

[doe-eyed-tara]

I wish there were studies on the actual damage men's torment does. The constant hyperawareness to prevent assault and the background noise of low-level stress from men "just teasing" or "just messing with" us cannot be healthy for our hearts. It hurts so much that they just LIKE to see us stressed and upset.

The other day I had a man openly admit to me that when I said I would not like a dick pic, it made him want to do it more. When I asked why, he responded "idk, just made me want to pick on you".

I don't care if it's nature or nurture anymore. I want to focus on the damage this constant awareness of danger does to women. I want to focus on how their constant need to fuck with us even in basic conversation leads to long term stress and damages women's confidence.

[rexisan]

Fuck can you imagine the new internal list Tim has and how he compares it to Jason's from time to time. Half of them are grunts the other half is types of silence.

Low one syllable grunt- acknowledgement

Higher one syllable grunt- mild praise

Quick breath followed by nothing- stop talking. Now.

Low long hrm- he's not listening, he's faking. Won't notice you leave.

Low short hrm followed by nothing- he is listening, will notice something off. Prepare to lie.

Silence followed by barely there growl- did something that reminded him of Jason. Stop. Immediately.

Low growl- Don't question the methodology. Go behind his back later.

Grinding of teeth- Stop him from doing whatever he's planning immediately.

A quick guide to translating Bruce’s grunting (by Jason):

Singular grunt = hello/good morning/general acknowledgement of your existence 

Low, soft grunt = thinking/doing math mentally/too busy to acknowledge whatever you just said

Snort = I find whatever you just said amusing but I’m too manly to laugh

Grumpy morning grunt (generally made at doorway of kitchen) = I need coffee

Quiet hmm noise = someone messed up and this benefits me

Slightly louder hmm noise = I messed up and this definitely does not benefit me

Sharp exhale through nose = I’m injured but trying to hide it

Soft, extended exhale through nose = why do I have kids again

[possiblyreallyme]

Ace thinks you're unbelievably pretty

warning: simp Ace, smut, oral (female receiving), praise/body worship.

Ace thinks you're the prettiest woman in the world, no matter what you or anyone else has to say about it.

No matter if you think your eyes don't look right, he'd stare into them and get completely lost. No matter if you don't think your nose fits your face, he kisses the tip of it and giggles anyway. No matter how weird you think your teeth are, you have the prettiest smile he's ever seen. No matter if you're shaped like a brick, or a pear, or an hourglass, he's swooning over your figure and telling the guys to look because damn, have you seen his girl?

From top to bottom, inside and out, Ace is in love. You could be the hottest model this side of the Grand Line, or the most average-looking girl in the world, and I promise you, he'd think you're an angel sent from heaven just for him.

The way you look when you yawn— a not-so-flattering face in your eyes— is simply adorable in his. When you're laughing and you hide behind your hands or turn away, he's quick to turn you back to him so that he can put a face to the beautiful noise and fuck, he's never disappointed.

And the faces you make during sex? God, he's begged to whip out a camera to capture it to hang it on the wall every single time. You think it's rather ugly, when your mouth goes open and leaves all those crinkles and lines in your face, brows furrowing in a way you'd rather not see or have anyone else see for that matter, drool dripping down your chin because he's just so big. But he thinks it's the prettiest face in the world, to the point he's crying and calling you beautiful, cumming deep in your womb while he starts to rut into you and thumb at your twitching clit like an animal.

Oh God, and your cute little pussy? He can't get enough of it. On his knees with your hips high in the air, effortlessly holding your weight while squishing your ass in his palms and lapping at you like a dog. Your upper half laid out on the floor of his cabin, clawing at the wood while blood rushed to your head and made you dizzy— he couldn't even wait until you got to the bed before he had ripped off your clothes and dove in face-first.

"She's s'pretty, sweetheart, holy fuck-" He honestly couldn't believe it, despite seeing it a million times. He's seen pussy before, on raunchy videos and the magazines the crew passed around when Whitebeard wasn't looking, and yet none of them were anything like this— part of him was tempted to bend you over in front of the crew to show you off, but the other part of him wanted to keep you all to himself.

"She's beautiful, babydoll, tastes like heaven." He could barely speak through your folds, lips still pressing heady kisses to your pretty cunt just like he would your mouth after a long mission away, and yet he only just fucked you this morning. "Y'hear 'er? Yeah? She's as mouthy as you are," He groaned, sounding so proud of the cute little noises tumbling from your lips, your walls squelching obscenely when he latched his mouth around your entrance and fucked you with his hot tongue once more.

"Hmmm, see? She's tryin'a get a word in, tellin' me how good 'm fuckin' you." How could you be so perfect? How could you look, act, and even sound like an angel— something a dirty pirate like him shouldn't even be touching, and yet he can't bring himself to pull away.

[toorusluvr]

just thinking about sylus… being lovey dovey with mc

CHARACTERS: sylus x f!reader (reader is the mc!)

CONTENT WARNINGS: unprotected sex + penetration sex + p in v + sylus calling the reader 'princess' 'baby' 'good girl' like once

NOTES FROM NIS: hi!! it's me again this time with another drabble written for sylus!! pls enjoy my thirst drabble for him sigh he's such a good husband material... reblogs, likes are very much appreciated!! anyway, if you're interested, please check out my haikyuu fic featuring iwaizumi hajime <333 u can check the fic out in my pinned post (for some reason, i can't paste the url here good lord why!!)

his larger frame hovering above you. both of you panting and moaning in sync, your lewd noises, mixed with the sound of his heavy balls slamming against your flesh filling the four walls of his spacious and luxurious bedroom.

sylus’s much larger hands pining your hands above of your hand, binding them with a tight grip. his expression showed that he was on edge of coming, not with your cunt squeezing his cock like a vice grip. fuck your pussy is driving him insane.

the 6’5 foot man inhaled the sight in front of him. your naked body on display, tits bouncing to each thrust he was giving you. your eyes shut closed, cute moans and whimpers spilling out of your lips every second of his cock fucking your insides. “what a fucking treat, sylus murmured under his breath. “such a beautiful girl for me, princess.”

slowly, he leaned down, minty breath fanning over your luscious lips. “open your eyes, princess. look at how tight your pussy is squeezing my cock, hm?” he removed one of his hands from binding your hand and down to squeeze your cheeks using his hand.

when you didn’t comply the first time, sylus again squeezed your cheeks harder this time. you knew better than to ignore him and his commands. slowly, you opened your eyes and saw his crazy gorgeous and sculpted face — a pair of crimson red eyes staring straight into your eyes. in a flicker of second, you saw his gaze softened when both of you locked eyes.

sylus’s grunt broke the momentary silence. the butterflies swirled in your tummy every time you have heard his sexy grunts. “fuck. you’re so fucking beautiful, baby,” he whispered against your lips before he inched closer to kiss you on the lips.

your back arched when his cock nudged into your sensitive spot, and you accidentally moaned into his mouth. the current position — your tits pressed against his front, his cock nestled deeper into your pussy, seemed so intimate. sylus wanted to be as close as he could to you.

“mhm, sylus, keep going, please,” you whined when he slowed down his pace as he whispered sweet nothings into your ears.

sylus groaned into your mouth, leaving one more deep kiss before he got up. the warmth of having his chest pressed close to you dissipated.

spreading your legs using his knees wider, sylus rammed his cock inside you. this time, faster and harder. your breath couldn’t keep up anymore so screams started taking over your moans.

sylus is such an attentive lover he would never say no to you. only if under some circumstances. other than that, he’s obliging whatever your request is.

his groans lulled your ears each time his cock hit your g-spot. you exchanged looks with him before glancing over where your bodies were connected. creamy white liquid coating his cock and onto your pussy. shit. you were so close to an overwhelming orgasm.

“fuck, sylus make me come please!” your voice a pitch higher before a cry followed afterwards.

sylus again leaned down and took a nipple in his mouth, biting on it before swirling it as if he was savouring the sweet taste. his cock still mercilessly ramming into you. his eyebrows twitched as your pussy squeezed him tighter. he was so close and so did you.

you felt that one tight knot swirling inside you, each second closer to an orgasm. it crashed hard and fast, just like how sylus was giving it to you. your breath stuttered, and you got instant chills from how hard and shattering the orgasm was.

sylus’s cum filling your insides, some of it seeping out. he was breathing heavily as he stared at you. “fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful that it hurts,” he whispered again before kissing you sweetly. his fingers caressing your face lovingly. you whined when his skin lightly brushed against your clit. it was so fucking sensitive.

���and you are so fucking handsome that it kills me to get jealous every time girls stare at you,” you muttered while giggling against his lips.

“i only have my eyes on you, sweetheart. no one else,” sylus’s loving gaze locked with yours as he made this promise with you for the nth time. he then placed your palm against his chest, squeezing it with his fingers.

you smiled lovingly and sylus fell in love with you all over again. he’s smitten and crazy in love with you but he doesn’t give a flying fuck over how cringe he sounds. he’s in love with you and he fucking loves you. he’d do everything for you and you only.

[arataka-reigen]

Yall couldn't even handle Mel Medarda in season 1

"we need more complex female characters!!" YOU CAN'T EVEN HANDLE CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

[i90o3]

haii ><,, i read your pampering fic w mr crawling and i js. UGH. IM SO IN LOVEEEE 😭😭 do u do nsfw drabbles/fics 🤔 i read in ur rules you DO allow nsfw so,, could i request something nsfw abt a first time with him ><??

First Time.

context: First time with your pookie wookie bookie puppy bear.

Homicipher. mr crawling x reader. | Anypov…(?). NSFW | tw: ectoplasm c*m

Nsfw isn’t my strong suit but I have fun challenging myself, I do hope you enjoy this!

first time? ..confusing. And complicated. And clumsy. But oh.. does it feel so good.

It’s definitely a lot of build up over a couple months, like first soft pecks, then making out, slow and clumsy touches.

You have to guide his hands yourself until he gets the hang of it, but I think he’s a pretty quick learner. He’s def good with his hands (I actually think he says that in the game at some point) and his tongue.. (😜)

I’d say your on your bed making out, straddling his lap, your tongues in a heated battle with each other while his hand roams your body and his other hand is gently cupping your face. You’re starting to subtly grind against him, and he makes a chirping noise.

You can feel his erection against your thigh, and when you pull back to look at him, he’s smiling widely at you. He grabs you by the shoulders and switches your positions, pushing you down against the mattress while he hovers over you. He’s whining and chirping, rutting against your leg and wrapping his big arms around you, burying his face in to your chest. He’s so whiny and desperate for you, clawing at your clothes to try and get them off.

I saw someone say he’d be on the smaller side, but yall see how fucking tall that man is?? I def think he’s atleast 6 or 7 inches ..skinny, veiny, with a slight curve.

He’s chirping and making all sorts of noises when he finally sinks in to your wet heat, rutting so sloppily and clumsily. You jolt from how cold it is compared to your hot gummy walls, making you shiver. He has no idea really what he’s doing, but it just feels so good he can’t stop, can’t help himself. How you clench around him, how good it feels, its driving him insane. Burying his face in to your neck and wrapping his arms around you so tightly.

You can tell he’s getting close because he’s getting more vocal and his thrusts are getting even more sloppier (somehow), and you’re clawing at his back, whimpering and mewling. Your walls clench around him, milking his purple-tipped cock, cumming with a sharp cry. His hips stutter as you ride out your high, and he slips out of you, shooting his load on your tummy, rubbing his grey ectoplasm cum all over your soft skin, giggling maniacally.

After you clean yourselves up, you snuggle up to him, pulling the covers up around you both as he pats your head and you drift off to sleep on his arms.

11/11/2024. 9:38 am. @i90o3

[randombush3]

que te quiero

alexia putellas x reader

prologue

summary: you wake up but you're not sure where

words: 3217

content warnings: just you fucking wait

notes: i slaved away to get this out asap lol

They list your injuries in an awkwardly ascending order: best to worst. You suppose the doctor’s callousness is more professional than malicious – and maybe it’s a good thing he isn’t panicking at the sight of such long, uninteresting words – but he makes it sound clinical (his job) and it’s hard to remember not everyone feels the excruciating pain you are slowly growing accustomed to. 

You wince at your thoughts’ poor choice of words. 

Apparently, you don’t remember much. In the week that you’ve been awake, you’ve been subject to every test, question, and assessment possible, all answers coming out with the same result. 

You know your name and when you were born. You know that you have a degree in Literature, but that you’re now a lawyer with an extensive library instead. You can speak all the languages you’ve ever learnt (that’s a different part of your brain, says the doctor when you ask how). They ask about your parents, your brothers, and names easily roll off your tongue, the childhood fear of hospitals still present (god, there is something that you wish had been forgotten). 

Still, the nurses approach you with sympathetic smiles, replicating the expression when they converse quietly with the worried-looking woman who visits you every day. She’s called Alexia, she tells you, staring at the gap between you as though she is a stranger to being so far apart. 

Although it was blurry when you first woke up, once Alexia reveals her name, you’re certain you recognise her.

“I’ve seen her somewhere,” you tell your favourite nurse, chipper that you’ve worked it out. In an attempt to jog your memory, you’ve kept the small TV in the corner of your section of the ward on all afternoon, sort of missing the noise your committed visitor brings with her. “And she’s not here today, Isa, because she’s there.” You point at a figure running around on a football pitch. “Alexia Putellas. She’s famous!” It explains the secrecy and the inexplicable absences. You suppose a slightly different structure of her job allows her to visit at unconventional times, too. 

“Mm,” Isa hums, not quite committed to this conversation. “Let’s save the discoveries for your chat with the doctor, yeah? He should be here any minute now.” 

On cue, the pot-bellied man appears, clipboard in hand, bottom lip between his teeth. His perception leads his gaze to the TV, which, in turn, causes him to watch your reaction to the match. Growing insecure of his scrutiny, you press a button and watch the screen go black. 

“Good afternoon,” comes his greeting, clipped and determined to not waste time. You try to find comfort in that: maybe you aren't in the worst shape in this hospital. “How are your ribs feeling?” 

“Battered.” 

He writes that down. “You’re on the highest dosage of pain medication. We’ll need to start weaning you off soon, too. Especially due to a family history of addiction.” Your eyebrows furrow, and his pen scratches at the paper once again. “Okay, Y/n. Can I have a seat? Are you comfortable?” 

You take a moment to acknowledge the ache in your abdomen and head. He assumes your silence is a ‘yes’ and Isa is dismissed. “You shouldn’t be looking at any screens,” he says calmly, with the faintest hint of disappointment. “It will not aid your recovery.” 

“How am I supposed to remember anything if I can’t use… sources to help me?” you protest. 

“That is exactly what I have come here to discuss. We’ll start bit by bit. The more open you are to this, the quicker you will be released from hospital.” He smirks. “And I know that you are desperate to leave.” 

…

The stands of the stadium echo with jubilation as the final whistle blows. Alexia barely hears it due to the noise, still reeling from her penalty, proud to have scored in front of such a special guest. She’d made an ‘A’ with her fingers as she had celebrated. 

Despite her teammates’ dallying on the pitch, never in a rush after a win like this, Alexia is jumping the barrier and barreling through the crowd to get to the seats she’s been keeping an eye on for the whole match. Her mother is barely offered a ‘hello’ before Alexia is wrapped in a tight embrace. She won’t admit that the force of the impact winds her a little. 

“You played so well!” squeals Amaia, voice muffled in the sweat-soaked jersey. She seems almost giddy, which is a hefty improvement considering your current situation. 

Alexia laughs, bending down to Amaia’s level, her hands resting on the girl’s shoulders. Tears prick at her eyes but she hopes it isn’t that obvious. “You saw my penalty, right?” 

She’s met with enthusiastic nodding, Amaia’s eyes widening with excitement. “Vaig veure la A! It was for me, right?” 

“For you,” Alexia confirms, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Amaia’s head. Despite her efforts, the softness of the girl’s hair – the way she clings once more to Alexia’s body – is disarming. And Amaia speaking Catalan always gets her emotional. 

She wipes her tears when Amaia pulls away. 

This is difficult. Alexia is trying her hardest, but nothing is the same without you. She finds herself looking at the seat beside Amaia, expecting to see it filled by you, but it’s not; it’s empty. You are still at the hospital. You don’t even remember who Alexia is. 

You don’t remember the past eleven years, they think. Which means no Amaia, no Alexia, no Barcelona. 

It has broken Alexia’s heart. 

Her mother places a hand on her shoulder. “Go and get changed,” she instructs gently, in the same way she has been since the accident. Eli has become an engine, a guide. “Alba said she’d meet us at the restaurant.” 

Alexia swallows, embracing her mother. In her ear, she whispers, “I think it’s time for Amaia to see her.” Her mother’s touch remains firm, grounding her. She breathes out, and it is only now that her lungs ache that she feels like she can no longer hold it together. But Alexia is determined, and she will not crumble. 

Not in front of your daughter. 

“It’s your decision, Ale,” Eli murmurs back, her tone steady and calm. She’s seen how tirelessly Alexia has navigated these past weeks, juggling her team, her grief, her hope – all while trying to keep Amaia’s life as normal as possible. “You have done everything you can. If you think she’s ready, she’ll be ready.”

Alexia pulls back and nods, a quiet determination settling over her face. The thought of bringing Amaia to the hospital without the stability of a coma to predict her reaction has been weighing on her ever since you woke up. But, even though this step is more of a stumble, it seems to be in the right direction. 

"Now, go and get out of this kit. Amaia and I can only pretend you don’t smell for so long," Eli jokes, hand guiding her toward the locker rooms. Amaia is practically bouncing at Alexia’s side as they make their way down the tunnel, still buzzing with excitement over the game and ten goals scored. 

Not everyone is so plagued by misfortune in their personal lives – a reminder which is stark as Alexia passes the conga line of her teammates, all thrilled with their (superfluous) scoreline and exploiting the night off that Pere has allowed right from the get-go. A few of the girls wave at their captain as she walks past, but most feel uncomfortable shoving their elation in her face, aware of the shitstorm she is going through. 

The girls do keep plaguing her about what you had thought of their ‘Get Well Soon’ card, though. Not that Alexia has found an appropriate time to give it to you yet.

“Will she be awake?” Amaia suddenly asks, her voice breaking Alexia’s thoughts. Her expression is open, hopeful. Her eyes have the same shine as yours do in this light. 

Alexia glances down, her lips forming a soft, bittersweet smile. "We’ll see, Amaia," she says, brushing a stray lock of hair from the girl’s face. "We’ll visit, and we’ll see."

Inside the locker room, Alexia changes quickly, her mind already racing ahead to the visit. She imagines you there, perhaps looking out the window or glancing at her with that blank confusion that still cuts her deeper than she’d expected. The nurses have told her that you’re growing more restless with each day, becoming harder to occupy. You sound like a pain in their arses, which is comforting, because at least you are still you. And your questions! Alexia is unsurprised that the doctors rock-paper-scissor for ward duty. 

When she emerges, mood lifted by the thought of you continuing to be a nightmare, Eli and Amaia are waiting by the door, Amaia now clutching a small bouquet of flowers that must have been retrieved from Eli’s car while Alexia was changing. She’s holding them proudly, as if they might be a magic cure, as if a burst of colour is exactly what’s needed to bring you back.

“Ready to go?” Amaia asks, instinctively high-fiving Mapi as she walks out with Alexia. 

“Exciting plans, Capi?” her friend questions. Alexia’s look says it all. Mapi lowers her voice, allowing only Alexia to hear her; “you are strong. You will be strong.” 

“Let’s go,” prompts Amaia. Her impatience was very much inherited. 

After shooting an unconvincing look of confidence to her friend, Alexia nods, holding out her hand for Amaia to take. “Okay, okay. Say goodbye to Eli.” 

Kisses are exchanged. Alexia promises to come for dinner, even if she will be late. 

Amaia plays Taylor Swift in the car. The whiny music gives Alexia a bit of a headache, but at least it’s loud enough to dull the absolute din of her screaming thoughts. And when they arrive, it’s all too familiar for Alexia’s liking. 

She has her route to you memorised. It’s magnetic and intrinsic, and a desperate part of her is clawing at the hope that, somehow, you will have regained everything that has been lost in the day she hasn’t seen you. Before entering the ward, she tries to prepare Amaia, but the girl is as unstoppable as you can be and there is no intervening before she is at your bedside, greeting you like you remember who she is. 

…

A lot of what the doctor tells you are things you struggle to believe. Like, last year, you were made junior partner of the law firm you work at. They’re based in London. You used to live there – you moved after you’d finished your degree, bored of Bilbao and of home and of knowing every person in your world. Another confusing one: your brothers actually visit you, as though you are forgiven. 

Which sparks an aged memory. Two lines in the bathroom at the university. 

“Am I pregnant?” you ask, feeling the colour drain from your face at the idea that you might have lost the baby in the accident. 

The doctor waits patiently for you to remind yourself that eleven years have passed. 

“I was pregnant.” Nothing comes back to you, though this would be an appropriate moment for it to. The rest of the story hangs loosely at the back of your throat, unable to be spoken. You look at the doctor for help. “Did I keep it? I’m not – I wasn’t planning to.” 

“She’s called Amaia.” 

“Amaia…” you repeat. A painful realisation settles in you. How did you feel about becoming a mother? Why did you? When did they forgive you, and was it because of her? 

“Your mother’s name, I believe,” continues the doctor, “although you can remember that.” 

“I barely knew my mother.” She had died when you were very young. She didn’t feel like yours to grieve. To you, it was just time off school, hospital visits, and watching the rest of your world fall apart. You find yourself swallowed up in guilt – anger. How did you let this happen? How could you forget what must have mattered the most? “I want to see her,” you resolve, attempting to sit upright and pretend the movement doesn’t send a searing pain through your chest. “My… I want to know what she looks like.” 

Your patience need not extend for too long, as Alexia and Amaia arrive only two hours after the doctor departs. 

The sterility of the ward is no match for the warmth they exude, and you can almost sense them coming. It’s both comforting and unsettling. You refrain from telling Alexia that you know who she is. 

You have no time to, really, because there is a girl, average height with a bouquet in-hand, barreling towards you the moment you lay your eyes on your visitors. She’s loud enough to make you wince, which, in turn, earns her a sharp warning from Alexia, even further away than usual. She is watching you closely, awaiting your reaction. Her arms are folded across her chest, hair scraped into a damp ponytail, and she is withholding the emotion she wants to express because Alexia, you’ve learnt, isn’t really that kind of person. You often find yourself wondering how she first opened up to you. How long did it take? 

You want to ask, but Amaia – Amaia – begins to speak. Her voice is unfamiliar, her accent failing to reflect any time in Bilbao she might have spent with you. She speaks at first in Spanish. You hardly hear what she is saying, too focused on examining her features. 

She does look like you. Or, rather, pictures of you from years ago. Your father’s eyes, your nose. A smile that you can’t help but reciprocate. You try to remember what her father looked like, but nothing comes to mind and Amaia seems to have been unresponsive to his genes.

“Amaia,” you interrupt, not to cut her off but to test her name on your tongue. It’s foreign to you, but it suits her. She beams. 

“Do you remember me?” 

And what the actual fuck do you say to that? 

Your hesitation is telling. Alexia stiffens from where she had relaxed on the fringes on the section. 

“It’s okay if you don’t.” You look up at her, unaware that you had bowed your head in the first place. She has kind eyes, you think. And she must be clever, because it is not what she says, but that she says it in Euskera. 

“I missed you,” you say. It slips out, but you mean it. Well, you assume you missed her, and therefore it is a logical thing to come out with. And, also, you are aching inside from seeing the life that you have created standing right in front of you. A life you were not going to pursue. 

Amaia does not cry, but she delicately unfurls your clenched palms and shapes her hands to link with yours. You want her touch to bring it all back. It feels like jumping off a skyscraper when you are met with nothing, still. Instead of the flood of recollection you long for, there is a faint, ungraspable feeling of something you cannot name. 

After a silent pause, a movement in your peripheral vision catches your attention. Alexia steps forwards, her arms still crossed, her expression unsure and more than a little guarded. There is a sudden swell of gratitude in your chest, more for her presence than anything specific, and, without thinking, you smile at her. 

“Congratulations,” you say, voice just above a whisper as though Amaia will be unable to hear. “I saw you on the TV. You scored, didn’t you?” 

Alexia’s eyes widen a fraction as she glances at Amaia, who is proudly informing you, “ez behin, baizik eta bitan”. Alexia manages a small, almost bashful smile, her hand coming up to rub the back of her neck. For a woman so publicly celebrated, she seems to struggle to handle your praise. 

“Thanks,” she says awkwardly, eyes not quite meeting yours. “It… wasn’t a huge match but,” she grimaces at the sound of her voice, “I wanted to play my best for, well, for you guys. Amaia was there, and you… Well, I suppose you were watching it on TV.” She doesn’t feel inclined to show you the band of pre-wrap around her wrist with your name written on it, hiding it under the sleeve of her hoodie, or tell you that you were there with her, like you always are. 

Something tugs at your heart. It’s obvious that she is desperately holding back emotions, likely for Amaia’s sake. She looks away for a moment, regaining her composure, then turns back to you with a steadier expression. Amaia glances between you both, unnervingly perceptive for a girl so young. She squeezes your hands a little tighter. 

In the silence that follows, Alexia finally speaks up again. “I… didn’t want to crowd you, but,” her tone drops into something more serious, “I’ll be back again tomorrow, and, actually… Your doctor and I have been discussing the idea of you coming home soon.” 

The word hits you like a bullet from too close a range; it’s almost too fast to register before the damage is done. 

You don’t even know where you live. In your mind, you have never been to Barcelona, let alone have a home here. And yet there is an inexplicable warmth in Alexia’s voice that makes the idea feel… less absurd. 

She clears her throat. “In three days, if you’re ready,” she softly adds, eyes glimmering with hope in a fearful way. 

Later, Alexia stands just outside the ward, talking quietly with your doctor as Amaia sits nearby, focused on the little bouquet of flowers she brought for you, picking at a petal here and there. Alexia watches your daughter for a moment, the girl’s calm focus oddly grounding. 

“She’ll need a lot of rest and minimal stress,” the doctor says, drawing Alexia’s attention back to him. “But it’s promising. Her physical recovery is progressing, and though her memory may take longer, familiar environments could help.”

Alexia nods, though the doctor’s words bring only partial relief. “I can make things as calm as possible for her at home,” she says, trying to avoid sounding like a child begging for a present she knows she will not receive. “We have spare rooms, and lots of pictures to look over. And she hates hospitals. You’re lucky to have her disorientated, else she’d be kicking up a big fuss.”

The doctor lets out a tired laugh, but makes no attempt to agree that you haven’t made his life slightly more difficult than it needed to be already. “It will be an adjustment for everyone, but it is important that you are looking after yourself too.” 

Alexia’s gaze drifts back to the door of your room, and she swallows hard, steeling herself. The doctor’s words linger but they do nothing to curb her determination. She would do anything for you, and if you fell for her once, you can fall for her again. 

After another quiet moment, the doctor pats her arm lightly. “Three days, then. We’ll make sure she’s as prepared as she can be.”

[sugarcoatedstarkey]

Touch Yourself

Pairings - Drew Starkey x Female!Reader

Summary - based of a scene in love lies and bleeding.

Warnings - finger fucking, vibrators 18+

You stood in the bathroom, brushing your teeth as you stared back at yourself in the all too big mirror. Bending your neck left and right until a small crack traveled up, loosening the knot that kept forming.

You had been stuck at your desk all day, writing your second book. Ideas had started to fade and motivation was nowhere in sight, deciding it was time for sleep you made your way to the bathroom.

Drew was due home any minute, working late on the set of his upcoming movie. You had planned to be awake when he got home but the tiredness had become overwhelming and your eyes blurred from the laptop screen.

Just as you bend over the sink to wash your mouth out the front door slams closed and you jump at the intrusion of noise, Drew’s walking through the threshold of the bedroom seconds later. Throwing his bag onto the chair, his eyebrows are creased together in annoyance. “Babe?” You call out, his eyes meet yours through the mirror and his facial features soften. Pulling his shirt over his head he begins walking towards you.

He crowds your space, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his face into your neck. “You okay?” You question, enjoying the closeness of your boyfriend. You both didn’t get much time together anymore as he was always filming or you were busy in meetings for your book. “Just missed you” he mumbles into your neck, his lips kiss at your sensitive spot sending shivers up your spine. “I missed you too”.

You go to turn around but he holds you in place, running his hands down the length of your arms and moving them up above your head, pressing your palms against the mirror in front of you. “Wha-” you cut yourself off as his hands slip under your shirt, tickling your stomach and skimming under your breasts. His eyes flick to yours for a moment silently asking for approval, you press your ass into his crotch and he palms your tits. “I've been hard all day for you” he groans, you're now realizing the hardness pressed into your ass is his cock and not his belt.

You stay silent as his hands wander your body, he kisses your shoulder blades and drops to his knees behind you. Lifting your oversized shirt to your waist, taking a soft bite to your ass cheek and then kissing the teeth marks. “I want to touch you baby.. I want to stretch you out, see how far I can take you” he groans, slipping his hands between your legs and pushing them apart to give himself room. “You want that baby? Want me to play with you?”

“Yeah” you breathe, watching him through the mirror. He pulls down your panties and presses his palm into your lower back. Your hands slide from the mirror to grip the faucet, your pussy on display for him now. He presses a kiss to your wet lips and runs a finger through your folders. You watch as he sucks on his finger and brings it to your cunt, he starts off slow, pushing one finger into your hole. His eyes don’t leave yours as he pushes a second and then a third. “Fuck” you moan out, his fingers are slow and tantalising. Stroking your walls softly and nudging your soft spot with each thrust, your clit aches to be touched but he doesn’t go near it, knowing it’ll tip you over the edge too soon.

He’s enjoying you squirming, suddenly he’s inserting a fourth finger and you're crying out in half pain and half pleasure. “That’s it baby.. stretch you out so you can take my cock” he whispers, kissing your ass cheek again until his face is buried in your cunt. Tongue swirling and sucking until you're seeing white and cumming on his face.

He pulls away and orders you to spin, pushing you against the vanity. He’s still on his knees for you, staring up at you with lustful eyes. “Touch yourself”

The apples of your cheeks redden and you clench your fists together at your sides. “Come on baby, show me what you do when I’m not around to make you cum” he begs, grabbing your wrist and bringing it to your pussy. You nod and spread your legs again for him, reaching between your legs. You can feel the dampness on your thighs. You press your fingers to your clit, circling softly. “Is that what you do?” He questions, looking between your hand and you. You bite your lower lip and shrug. “Fuck baby come on.. that’s not what you do, show me how you fuck yourself”.

You pull your fingers from your pussy and bring them to your mouth, sucking on two fingers before dropping them back between your legs, his eyelids heavy and chest pounding. His eyes follow closely as you swirl the tips of your fingers across your clit and slowly push them deep inside of you, I gasp falls from your lips at the intrusion. “I usually use a vibrator.. for my clit” you choke out, riding your fingers as he grips your hips. He nods and pulls himself to stand. “Keep going”.

He exits the bedroom and rounds the bed to your side, opening the draw he grabs the small handheld vibrator and enters the room again. He kicks at your feet silently asking you to spread yourself further for him. Dropping to his knees all over again. He flicks the switch of the bullet and brings it to your pussy, teasing you by running it across your hand and just above your clit, he wants until your squirming above him and presses the vibratortor to your clit, watching as your eyes widen at the fluttering sensation.

“Oh shit” you cry, your fingers pushing deeper inside of you. “That’s it baby, fuck you look so good making yourself cum” he groans, pressing the head of the vibrator against you harder, sending you into a shaking mess. Your orgasm hits you instantly and you wobble on your legs, his arms wrapping around your waist as you cum around your own fingers.

“Such a good girl.. now let me fuck you baby”

[7s3ven]

Sex pollen w/ Simon Riley

Notes: MDNI, fem! reader, mature content, this is lowkey freaky (had this idea for a while), consensual, ghost x reader, tf 141 x reader, the rest of tf 141 are listening, y’all are in a warehouse but nobody’s there, sex pollen, reader isn’t part of tf 141 but working with them, reader has hair, make out, ghost and reader kinda switch who’s in charge, cussing

- You were starting to hate the unpredictable nature of the world. New plants were popping up everywhere, including a natural aphrodisiac that was apparently 10x stronger than those chocolates everybody raved about

- Jonny laughed at the thought of such a strong plant. “Ay, does that mean we gon’ a have ta fuck each other if we come in contact with it?” He laughs at his joke, not at all meaning it. You see Gaz’s face scrunch up in disgust

- You weren’t officially part of Task Force 141. You were merely asset, an extra pair of hands given to the unit to help with this specific mission

- “You think that sex pollen stuff is actually real?” You ask as you walk alongside Ghost, gun strapped to your back. The mission was a success. The harder part was regrouping with the rest of TF 141

- You and Ghost had been split from them and currently, the hints they were giving to you about their location were not helping in the slightest

- “Nah, load of bullshit.” Ghost replies. He wishes he could take his words back when he accidentally steps on an unknown plant, sending a puff of yellow pollen into the air

- Even through the masks, you both unintentionally inhale it. You cough, your nose stinging. Your body suddenly feels unusually heavy and… hot. There’s a pit in your stomach as you realise what Ghost stepped on. He seems to realize it too

- “Load of bullshit, you said?” You mock him. He sends you a glare, not appreciating your sarcasm.

- “L/N, Ghost, do you read?” You can hear Price’s voice as clear as day through your comm.

- “Yes, sir.” You reply since Ghost seems to be having a hard time maintaining his cool. “But we were exposed to the pollen. What are your orders, sir?”

- It takes Price half a beat to answer but that’s enough time for Ghost to grab your wrist and tug you into a nearby abandoned warehouse

- You squeak as he pushes you down. He’s trying his best to control his himself as he removes his vest from his sweating body. His actions have your mouth dry

- “Stay put, the both of ya. We’ll call a medic and find you.” Price says, oblivious to how you’re currently eyeing up his soldier.

- “Yes, sir.” You turn your comm off. “Ghost, you good?” He’s flushed but you aren’t in any better condition

- “Fucking hurts.” He mutters. He’s an inch away from you, his strong cologne washing over you. You press your thighs together, shuddering

- There’s a minute of silence as you curl yourself into a ball, almost trying to distance yourself from Ghost. He’s panting heavily, biting down on his gloved fingers to push away his thoughts

- And when you can’t handle it anymore, you pounce. You still have some dignity left as you hold his shoulders. “You sure?” You carefully ask. Ghost silently nods

- His hands rest heavily on your hips as he drags you back and forth, finally creating some friction that has you tilting your head back in relief

- But it’s not enough. You’re now lying face down, ass up, as Ghost ruts into you from behind, fingers sure to leave bruises on your soft skin. He’s hitting all the right spots and all you can do is quietly mewl

- Ghost grabs you by the hair, pulling you up until you’re pressed against him. Your knees ache from digging into the rough dirt below but you pay it no mind

- The pathetic noises the both of you, yours substantially louder, echo around the empty warehouse. You tilt your head back, unintentionally giving Ghost full access to your neck

- He leans his head down, nuzzling his masked face in the crook of your neck. His hands run down your body until they rest on your thighs, prying them open

- You’re grinding against the palm of his hand, small yet high-pitched huffs slipping past your lips

- And then your comm makes a noise. Ghost hears it too but he doesn’t slow down. “Do ya two know we can hear ya?” It’s Jonny speaking, his thick Scottish accent making it hard to understand his words

- As much as you want to actually turn off your comm this time, something prevents you from doing so. You tighten around Ghost at the mere thought of his teammates hearing what you’re doing

- “Think she likes it.” Ghost shamelessly tells his team

- “What position have yer got her in, Ghost?” You’re surprised Price isn’t yelling at the two of you. Instead, he plays along. Ghost shoves you back down and you narrowly avoid getting a mouthful of dirt

- “Put her back in doggy, Captain.” Ghost is speaking casually as if he’s not blowing your back out right now

- You whine, back arching at his hard thrusts. Beads of sweat run down your neck, a side effect of the pollen

- Ghost’s quiet grunts escalate in volume and the sound of such noises spurs you on

- You don’t have time to react until Ghost is turning you over, throwing your legs over his shoulders with ease. His large hands grip your shoulders as he lowers his head. You quickly slip his mask half up, eagerly pressing your lips against his

- It’s an intense kiss. There’s still a string of saliva that connects you when he pulls back. His hands trail down, stopping at your chest

- You almost forget the rest of Task Force 141 can hear you. Almost. “She come yet?” Jonny asks. Gaz is unusually silent but you can hear his heavy breathing as he listens

- “Not yet.” Ghost answers, “Probably almost there, though. Can feel it.”

- “Should make her ride you.” Gaz finally speaks up. He laughs, fully meaning it as a teasing comment but Ghost halts

- “Captain, your orders?” Ghost asks. You pout, bucking your hips up. Ghost stills you

- “What Gaz said.” Price answers, “Make her do the work.”

- You can only squeal as Ghost switches the position for the third or fourth time. You’re on top of him again but Ghost isn’t doing anything

- You crease your eyebrows in annoyance before rocking back and forth without his assistance. It’s an agonising slow pace but once you find your rhythm, you speed up

- You throw your head back, caught up in the moment. Ghost’s grunts are growing louder by the minute, which only fuels you. This time, you’re the one leaning down, tongue running over Ghost’s exposed neck

- It desperate and somewhat pathetic and… hot? The two of you are going at it like there’s no tomorrow. Like rabbits or animals in heat

- You pant, back arching even more. Your eyes are rolling back as Ghost finally helps you. You can’t help yourself from sinking your teeth into his shoulder, biting down hard. You think Ghost likes it when he loudly grunts, hips harshly bucking up

- You’re nearing your release, you can feel it. It’s so close. Your movements are sloppy as you grow more tired and Ghost decides to take over again

- You’re drooling, saliva leaking out of your mouth and landing on Ghost’s chest. He doesn’t complain, only picking up his pace. Your tongue is lolling around and you no longer have control over your limbs

- “Practically going cross-eyed.” He says, though you don’t know if he’s talking to you or his teammates

- You know it’s over when Ghost’s lips wrap around one of your nipples. You’re practically sobbing as the coil inside your stomach snaps, your fluids staining the dirt below

- Ghost keeps going and you gladly take it. Your hands rest on his chest for support as he closes his eyes in bliss. He finishes not too long after you but there’s a mutual understanding that you both need more

- “Fucking like rabbits in heat, ay?” Jonny speaks, chuckling

- It’s filthy as you and Ghost try to rid your senses of the pollen. You’re humping him as he tries to catch his breath. His lungs are telling him to rest but the rest of his body disagrees

- It takes three rounds until the both of you are back to normal. You’re lying on Ghost, panting. His arms are wrapped around your waist, keeping you grounded

- “You two done?” Price asks, but there’s a strain in his voice

- You and Ghost scramble to pick up your discarded clothes, quickly getting dressed

- You regroup with Price, Jonny, and Gaz with hot cheeks. And as you climb back into the car that Ghost is unfortunately driving, you don’t miss the way they all eye you

[xoluvx]

hi hi i have a request so the clips of billie playing guitar n she’s doing it rlly fast like it makes me think of how fast she’d like masturbste like her strap lol idk if that makes sense so could u do one where she has it on n she’s thinking of the reader or watching their sextapes/ vids n like wanks it off n like rlly enjoys it (bonus if it’s a cumming strap n she makes it cum when she does) pls THANK YOU ILY‼️🙏

i had to give it my own little twist.. just cause.. yeah 🤭 enjoy bb 💖

'watch it when you get to the hotel' those were her explicit instructions when she handed you the usb. god, a fucking usb. she was so cryptic and particular about these things. if it were up to you, you'd film that shit on an iphone and call it a day. you loved to give her shit for it too, but you also understood why she did it. it wouldn't be a good look if billie's sex tapes leaked all over the internet. almost like she leaked all over you in the nasty, filthy videos you filmed.

when you closed the hotel door behind you, you dashed for your laptop. the fluorescent light illuminated the dimly lit room as you retrieved the usb from the pocket of your burdensome jacket. it connected to the port with a swish indicating it was ready to be opened as you impatiently tugged on your jacket. removing it and flinging it to the loveseat. your eyes focused on the screen as you opened the singular file. one video. only one fucking video and you were quivering already. you knew it had to be good.

you bit your lip nervously pressing play on the video gasping at the sight of her body. naked apart from the strap that clung to her hips so pretty. hugging her curves so beautifully. her hand wrapped around the dildo. you knew the one. how could you not? it was one of your favorites and she knew it. you could see it on her face as she smirked stroking the cock like it was a part of her. though you knew she couldn't feel the strokes, you knew it rubbed her pussy in all the right ways and it was the primary reason for her parted lips and the whimpering noises.

you weren't sure how the phone was propped up, all you knew is that you had the perfect view of her cock and her face. almost as if you were kneeling under her as she stroked the fake dick. her hand moving at an ungodly speed.

'now imagine it's my dick' she'd teased after she saw the way your mouth opened during the entirety of her performance. the way she was shredding that guitar was hypnotizing. her hand impossibly fast. strumming the chords like it was an animate object worthy of pleasure. worthy of her fingers. oh how you wanted that to be you.

instead she was jerking the cock at the speed in which she'd played the guitar. your eyes bulged pulling yourself closer to the laptop screen, tugging on your pants prying them off. feeling the sticky wetness between your legs. it stained your underwear as she moaned and hung her head low still stroking her cock. it was filthy. absolute. pure filth.

and you loved it. you lived for it. touching yourself to the sounds of your girlfriend's moans. to the sight of her hand jerking her fake cock. waiting in anticipation as the bottom of your feet tingled and your pussy throbbed. heavy breathing and wet noises filled the hotel room as she cursed and bucked her hips. she was close. you were closer. biting your lip stifling your moans as if you weren't the only person in the room. as if anybody else could hear you.

'fuck' she cursed as her body thrashed and her hand slowed. it all happened so quickly. your hooded eyelids opened wide when you saw the creamy liquid shoot from her cock. dripping down her hand. down her wrist. captivating as she breathed heavy. gathering herself. staring into the camera with a wicked smile at the exact moment in which you were unraveling. walls clenching. bliss and tingles and cum on your fingers.

'i love you' she whispered before kissing the camera and oh god, you felt yourself growing tighter again. with the last ounce of strength, you shamelessly clicked the replay button. finger rotating on your clit once again.

[rainbowgod666]

(Noises of blowtorch) you would FUCKING think so

for the good of human (animal) kind

[hemipenal-system]

going on a camping trip in some rural woods with your friends

waking up to someone you know screaming, but before you can really process it, it turns into shouted moans and wet slapping noises. then the same sequence starts in another tent, then another

as far as you can tell, everyone but you is alternating between screaming like they’re gonna die and screaming like they’re being fucked sloppy

you just close your eyes and try to take deep breaths and not be scared of whatever is going on out there

then you feel claws grip your ankle and a big wet tongue on your foot, and open your eyes to see a hulking werewolf staring between your legs and drooling…

[really-fanny-longbottom]

okay sooooo

i had this little thought right

okay so maybe like reader has been a part of the inner circle for a looooong time like since the batboys were kids and they've all been friends forever, naturaly azriel has been in love with her since then, and a few years ago he realised they were mates (she doesn't know)

this one time she walks into the townhouse in just a bra and trousers, casually just walking in drinking coffee while the rhys and cass are just flabbergasted (cass being cass is eyeing the goods real hard because shes always been hot and he knows it) rhys is smirking and all (hes no less honestly)

then az walks in and hes just like what the fuck, she tries to explain smth happened to her shirt on the way and hes just grumbling and takes off his own shirt and is like put this own (cass is naturally making comments that make az's blood boil)

then you can choose where that goes from there

lmfaoooo im so sorry i couldn't get this idea out of my head

its okayyyy if you can't write it!!!

hi! sorry it took me so long to post but i've been really busy with university and only now have i had some free time.

anyway, here it is! thank you so much for this request, i loved writing it!

i hope you like it! 🫶🏻

my hero

summary: a small but very happy incident.

warnings: none

pairings: azriel x reader

words: 2.2k

tick 

tack

tick 

tack 

"ugh," a heavy groan escaped your lips at the sound of the clock. you seated slightly, your head pounding without mercy. 

as you looked at the window, your eyes fought against the early sunlight, before adjusting and finally allowing you to fully open them.

it took you a few seconds to remember your surroundings, and to be honest, to remember anything. 

the confusion didn't last long when all the memories from last night hit you all at once. 

you had gone out for the night with morrigan. you went to rita's for a girls night.

a night with a lot of drinking and dancing and singing and drinking again — mysterious headache solved.

you looked down on you, seeing the shiny short black dress you had chosen for last night specifically. 

you passed your hands through your messy hair and took a glance at your bedroom, absorbing the chaos that a very drunk you had caused.

how could just a person cause such a mess?

tick 

tack

tick

tack

"ugh!" a loud annoyed groan left your lips again

at the sound of the clock that kept attacking your brain. 

before you could think twice, you turned and reached out to punch the clock, causing it to fall to the ground.

you lowered yourself on the bed sheets with an arm over your head.

this was going to be a very long day.

and that's when it you.

your eyes and two seconds later, your legs were fighting against the bed sheets. 

after losing that battle, you ended up falling to the ground with a loud noise. 

a small 'huff' came out of your mouth before getting up and running to the clock as quickly as possible to check the time. 

10:07 am

"oh, shit."

you were late for your internship at the clinic.

"oh, shit."

you quickly begin to look for clean clothes at the same time you try to get rid of your dress. 

you manage to find something that looked relatively clean and put it on, your heart racing as you tried to get your hair to not look like a complete mess.

when you finished putting your hair in a more presentable state, you hurried to put on your shoes, but when you noticed the time again, you only managed to put on a sock before grabbing the first pair of shoes in sight and running out of your room. 

as you run for the stairs, you didn't have time to react before a body collided with yours and spilled coffee all over your t-shirt.

the hot contents against your skin forced you to let out a small scream and dropped the shoes to the floor as you struggled to pull the fabric of your t-shirt away from your body. 

"shit, shit, shit!" you cursed at the same time you blew on your t-shirt.

great, as if your day wasn't already going badly. 

"sorry," a small voice said.

you met your attacker's gaze as you looked up to see a beautiful female with green eyes and brown hair — morrigan's friend. 

right, you had forgotten that she had come home with the two of you — with mor. 

the female looked mortified as you stared at her annoyed. when you saw her opening her mouth to say something, you quickly stopped her.

"don't," you raised your hand at her, you didn't have time for this, "just. . .just go."

you pointed at morrigan's bedroom, whose door was slightly open. the female followed your direction, shrinking a little as she passed through you.

"idiot!" you cursed quietly. 

you looked at your bedroom and considered your options: the chances that you may find a new clean t-shirt in the middle of that mess, were very low and you were already late.

so you gave up and made your way down the stairs, starting to unbutton your shirt before completely taking it off, leaving you in your black lacy bra, and entering the kitchen.

rhysand and cassian who had been enjoying a late breakfast found themselves speechless upon your entrance. 

their gazes followed you as you moved to the sink and started working on removing the stain.

the males shared a gaze between them, identical smirks forming on both of their faces.

"good morning, y/n." rhysand greeted you as he took a sip of his tea cup.

you jumped startled, your eyes found theirs immediately, "gods, i didn't see you there."

rhysand's smirk grew wider. "oh, we know."

"did you get mugged?" cassian asked as he took in your figure.

you were barefoot with only one sock and shirtless.

"what?" you asked confused. 

cassian's eyes roam over your body.

"oh, no, morrigan's friend though it was a good idea to spill her coffee over me. freaking idiot," you murmured the last part, still focused on the task in hand.

cassian let out a snort "well, i'll make sure to thank her personally for this amazing view."

you rolled your eyes at his comment "oh, shut up, cassian. we grew up together, we've all seen each other naked at one point."

rhys smirked and grew before adding "sure, but we were either kids or teenagers at those times." 

cassian glanced at his brother, amusement all over his features "maybe we should go back to those times."

with another roll of your eyes, you tried to suppress a smile at your friend's comment while trying to get rid of the stain.

as on cue, the shadowsinger entered the kitchen to join his brothers for breakfast.

instead, he was surprised with a view of you shirtless — his shirtless mate.

the very reason, rhys and cassian had begun to tease you in the first place. 

what made this whole situation much funnier — the fact that you weren't aware of this detail. 

and things had just become a lot more interesting now with azriel in the room. 

his eyes widened at the sight of you but when he turned to find his brothers, his eyes darkened and a low growl was released.

"nice of you to join us, brother," cassian said casually as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest.

he can practically feel the heat coming off of azriel, like smoke coming out of his ears.

"what's wrong, az?" rhys asked him, knowing exactly what was going on but seeing azriel riled up was too funny to miss it.

at the sound of their voices, you looked up and your eyes found a pair of hazel ones.

"oh, hi, azriel." you greeted him with your sweet smile — the one he liked so much.

the shadowsinger found himself melting at your words, at the way you said his name. 

his eyes instantly softed, a small blush coming to his cheeks and a goofy smile on his lips, "h-hi, y/n." 

you gave him a warm smile before going back to your task.

azriel regained his composure at the sound of his brothers' muffled laughter. 

he sighed and rolled his eyes at their behavior, he hadn't catched a break from them since he revealed the mating bond on one drunken night.

cassian elbowed rhys gently in the ribs to get his attention, when his eyes found his, the general gestured with his head to the shadowsinger. 

"hey, az" cassian tried to contain his urge to laugh, he knew what was about to happen. 

"what?" azriel managed to say, his eyes still on your figure.

"we were just talking. . ." cassian started, his voice teasing "about going back to those times when we were teenagers." 

azriel face scrunched in confusion, he shot his brother a look. 

"you know," cassian continued, his peripheral vision caught rhys trying to control himself  "those times where we didn't care about being naked in front of each other." 

both rhys and cassian snorted at the sight of azriel's face turning red.

"what?!" the male let out a little too loud then he had intended.

rhys proceeded, "yeah, you know. when we didn't care so much about formalities. don't you agree, y/n?" 

you rolled your eyes again at rhys comment, "i think you two have too much free time" you chuckled, "cauldron has mercy on the poor females that will ended up as your mates."

"hey!" both cassian and rhys protested.

azriel smiled at your comment, but it fell when he observed both of his brothers eyes roaming over your body, grins splattered on their features.

azriel moved to the edge of the table, placing his hands on the surface of it before giving them a glare and clenching his jaw.

"stop looking at her like that before i break your faces" he threatened through gritted teeth. 

cassian and rhys were quick to lift their arms in surrender, both muttering a small "yes, sir." 

azriel rolled his eyes in annoyance. his attention was caught when he heard you cursed quietly. 

he sent one last warning look to the two males before moving to stand behind you.

he was so close, that all it took was another step of his for your back to be pressed against his chest.

azriel would love to know the feeling of that sensation, but he remained where he was.

he peeked through your shoulder and saw that you couldn't get rid of the annoying coffee stain. 

"gods, madja is going to kill me for being late." 

without a second thought, azriel took a step back.

"here," he told you.

you turned to find him taking off his own shirt.

your eyes roamed his body — his sun-kissed skin, his muscles, his illyrian tattoos. 

you loved those tattoos. 

"put it on," he extended his hand to you, holding out his shirt.

"oh, that's not necessary, az. i-"

"it's okay, y/n. i- i want you too. by the way, why don't you go get your shoes and i'll take you to the clinic? it's quicker that way and you don't have to walk." 

your face softened, "really? you would do that?" 

the corner of his lips lifted for a small smile, only you to make him feel this way.

"of course." 

you grabbed his shirt, "ugh, thank you, az."

you put it on and azriel tried to not let the sight of your small feature into his too big of a shirt to affect him, but he failed when his heart skipped a beat.

you moved forward and grabbed his cheeks, kissing him on the left one.

caught off guard, azriel tried to hide the fact that his skin had heated up under your touch. 

a new blush came to decorate his cheeks. 

"hm. . .i-" the male couldn't find his words with the sound of his heart roaming in his ears. 

"you're my hero, az" you gave a big smile before making your way to the stairs to collect your shoes. 

azriel stood there in the middle of the kitchen with a hand making it's way to his face to touch the place you kissed him.

cassian and rhys burst out laughing, not being able to remain composed of their brother in love. 

cassian got up from his seat and walked towards his brother, clasping a hand on his back.

"behold of the big bad scary shadow-," cassian leaned over in laughter, "shadowsinger" he managed to complete. 

rhys appeared on his other side, "oh, brother. only if your enemies could see you now, they would think how big of a fool they are."  

azriel clenched his jaw again, and when he turned to answer them, he was stopped by a honey-sweet voice.

"i'm ready," you told him from the entrance.

once again, the shadowsinger was left completely disarmed.

a goofy smile reappeared on his face. 

he didn't even spare a glance at his brothers before making his way to you, "let's go then."

cassian and rhys were left in the kitchen laughing to themselves.

•••

the trip to the clinic was quick.

azriel landed softly on the ground, keeping a hand on your waist and another on your back to make sure you were stable.

you took a step forward before turning to him.

"thank you again, az. you literally just saved my morning." 

and there it was that goofy smile again.

"oh, it's nothing really. my pleasure." 

you let out a small giggle. you reached forward, surrounding his neck with one of your arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek again.

azriel's heart raced and his voice caught in his throat. 

you took a step back "you're my hero, azriel. what would i do without you?" 

you caressed his cheek with the back of your hand before giving him one last smile and moving towards the clinic.

"hm, i-" was all the male managed to say while watching you entering the clinic with his shirt.

he watched as you grabbed the door, and turned to him to wave goodbye. 

azriel returned the gesture. it was at that moment that he realized how much power you had over him.

he didn't push away that feeling, in fact he embraced it.

it was about time to let the walls he had built so long ago disappear. 

and you were the right person for that.

azriel made a decision at that moment.

at the end of the day, he would come pick you up and ask you out on a date.

he would buy you flowers, tell you how he felt and take you to dinner.

he just hoped you felt the same way.

and that you said yes.

general taglist: @emryb @fantasyandshit @azrielover @shadowsingercassia @littlelou22 @brieflyclassymortal @lilah-asteria @meul-a @lure-of-writing @pruvii @olive-main @mybestfriendmademe @anuttellaa @mrsjna @lively-potter @avajustreads @talesofadragon @circe143 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @dark-chaos-314 @tequilya @scoliobean @saltedcoffeescotch @charlotteintumbleland @agirlwithwifiandalaptop @987coley

*if you asked to be tagged and you weren't, it's because I couldn't find your blog.

the beautiful dividers belong to @cafekitsune

[antimonyandthyme]

body swap, for carcar or even landoscarcar?

He wakes up, disoriented. It’s not even light out yet, why the fuck is he awake? His throat’s a little sore, his hips are a little sore. Jeez. Didn’t even bother to put some pants on last night, and did he chafe his ass on like, the sheets or something? Wow. He’s sore all over. A settled, pleasant kind though, a muscle ache too deep for him to reach. Maybe he can skip the gym today, hop on a stream, relax. Grab Carlos for a round of golf before he leaves, if he’s not too busy mapping Monaco on his bike.

He turns to his left. Claps a hand over his mouth, shrieks into it.

Like, he’s groggy. He doesn’t have the remnants of a disaster headache, so he’s not hungover. But it’s early, and he never wakes up early. Must be why he’s hallucinating.

When he can bring himself to look again, Carlos is still there. Close enough that Lando can hear the air whistling softly through his teeth.

Lando shifts uselessly, stares. That’s Carlos, alright. He’s always been a loud sleeper. Back in their McLaren days, when they’d shared hotel rooms, Lando had taken voice recordings to prove to an adamant Carlos that he snored. The memory makes his lips twitch. It’s nice Carlos looks well-rested. Better than he has in awhile. A pretty trophy will do that for you. If he wants, Lando can choose to waste precious time counting Carlos’s lashes while he figures out what to do. He’ll lose count at probably a hundred.

That’s Carlos, alright.

What were they doing last night? Surely Lando would remember. The party was loud, raucous, the Prince of Monaco victorious here at last. All podium finishers present, fourth place included. Drinking, laughing, cozying up to one another. Carlos and Oscar smiling tentatively at each other after sharing just one couch, animosity seemingly forgotten. The prickly itch crawling under Lando’s skin, until Charles finally manages to bag him a set. The music, beats pounding a tattoo into his brain. He remembers all of that.

Surely he would remember taking Carlos’s clothes off. He’s wanted to for—

Lando slaps both hands onto his cheeks, hard enough to sting. He needs to take a leak.

He squeaks out of the bed, as quietly as he can. Trips over a pair of jeans that look vaguely familiar, rams his toe into the wheel of a suitcase that definitely wasn’t there last night. Finds the bathroom, closes the door with a silent snick.

Fumbles around like a dunce for the light switch, right there where all light switches usually are.

Flicks it on. Shrieks for real this time, without his hands to cover the noise.

It’s a good thing Carlos has always slept like the dead. To be absolutely fucking certain, Lando peeks his head out.

Yep, still asleep. That’s Carlos, alright.

Deep, deep breaths. As deep as he can go without passing out. He returns to the mirror. Feels for his face like it’s a foreign object.

Which it is. Because that’s Oscar Piastri, looking right back at him.

--

He means to start off with something useful. Something like, Hey, do you remember what drugs we were on last night? E? Salvia? Because mate, these are the strangest withdrawal symptoms I’ve ever experienced. Or even something funny, like Haha, now I know what you look like naked. The fans are going to have a field day.

Instead, what comes out of his mouth is, “Why are you sleeping with Carlos?”

“Good morning to you too,” Oscar says, after the longest pause on planet fucking earth.

He didn’t mean for that to sound as sulky as he did. But he’s sore all over, and his lips, which are not his, but Oscar’s, feel extremely kissed, and he definitely does not expect that to make something in his chest twist tighter than a coiled spring.

“Aren’t you going to answer?”

“What did we drink last night?” Oscar says, unsurprisingly choosing to be the level-headed one in this conversation.

“Something bright green, something ocean blue. Dunno. Lost track during the set.”

“Lando,” Oscar says patiently, in Lando’s voice. Which is just all kinds of weird. “Something green, something blue, doesn’t sound all that normal.”

“I knew that DJ couldn’t be trusted.”

The world-weary sigh Lando receives makes his skin prickle with heat. Things have been happening. The car’s gotten faster. From his grandmother to the mechanics, everyone’s been talking about a chance he could pull like magic out of thin air. It’s not his fault he wasn’t paying attention. At the club, or to every encounter Carlos and Oscar had prior to this that has led them here.

“Look, I’m gonna—where are you?”

“In Carlos’s room,” Lando says, rudely, unhelpfully.

“Right. I’ll. I’ll be there in. We’re staying just, two blocks away, right? I’ll be there in ten. Could you. Could you please, just—”

Lando expects him to say something totally condescending. Please just don’t freak out. Please just don’t do anything until I get there, because I’m being responsible and you’re being a baby.

“Just, go back?”

“What?”

“Be next to him, when he wakes up?”

Lando swallows. The acid from yesterday must be making his stomach churn. Oscar—in Lando’s fucking voice, sounds smaller and more hopeful than Lando ever wants to hear himself sound.

“I don’t want him to think.” Oscar stops. Lando can practically see him scrubbing at the back of his neck. “I don’t want him to think I left, or anything like that. Could you—”

Lando hangs up.

The earnestness. The, the audacity.

The phone rings again, and Lando hangs up again, out of pure spite. He paces wildly, in front of the mirror. Each time he turns on his heel he imagines his body morphing back into what’s right. Each turn smacks him with the image that Oscar’s pale, freckled skin turns splotchy red when he’s angry.

What. A useful thing. To know.

It’s been half an hour since he’s woken up. Which means, oh fuck. Fuck. Carlos’s body clock has always been impeccable. Eight, on the dot, he springs out of bed like it’s a wonderful thing being alive at that hour, and then goes and makes coffee without fail. Which means in three, two minutes, Carlos will open his eyes. And, and he’ll be alone in bed.

He’ll be alone. That’ll make Lando feel better, right? Carlos will be alone, and then Oscar will no longer be a problem, and then the itch under his skin will disappear, for good.

Carlos will be alone.

He flicks off the light, slips out of the bathroom. Bangs his toe again on that damned suitcase. Slides under the covers, adjusts himself into a position he hopes might be believable. Head on one hand, face tilted toward Carlos. Body leaning, reaching. Always reaching. Eyes half-closed.

But open enough so that he can see the exact moment Carlos wakes. See that small, relieved smile. See the way Carlos clicks his jaw askew, the way he always does before making a decision. Then feel Carlos run the backs of his knuckles against a face he wishes were familiar.