#I adore Polites okay

[dangerclaw]

This dude (Polites) really went through a ten year war and:

1. decided that life isn’t a battlefield

2. deliberately chose peace, then

3. died during a round of deadly whack-a-mole

The gods didn’t like his hope for a world of peace and harmony ig

[mr-aftons-rotting-pussy]

TRAGIC: beautiful william afton post suddenly unrebloggable after mentioning minor thing that doesnt fit canon characterization

[petitmortes]

continued from here , @eyeofvengeance

there   was   nothing   more   terrifying   than   the   sound   of   dragon   wings   on   the   wind.      of   that   sansa   had   become   certain.    she   had   not   wanted   this   position,    had   not   wanted   to   be   the   one   left   behind   in   the   wake   of   a   war   that   was   not   hers,    nor   cregan's,    to   fight.    but   duty   had   called   the   way   it   so   often   did   for   men,    and   stark   -   bound   honor   meant   the   lord   of   the   castle   had   gone   to   do   his   part        –        left   behind   in   his   stead   the   only   family   who   had   not   turned   her   back       .   .   .       or   died.    it   had   meant   that   when   the   wind   had   howled   with   something   more   than   winter,    it   was   no   man   who   crossed   the   threshold   into   the   courtyard   to   meet   aemond   targaryen,     but   sansa   in   her   quiet   rage. 

sansa   who   had   sent   her   cousin's   son   into   the   crypts   with   the   maester   and   the   master   -   at   -   arms,    and   every   maid   they'd   been   able   to   find.    had   insisted   she   would   do   this   alone.    whatever   it   was   that   he   wanted,    she   would   handle        –       and   none   else   would   suffer   for   it. 

but   as   he   speaks,    she   cannot   get   a   hold   on   him.    cannot   track   the   train   of   thought,    cannot   understand   what   it   is   he's   asking   for   in   between   the   pretty   words   and   complimentary   syllables.    she   knows   it   is   something,    to   hear   a   man   of   his   infamy   speak   of   forging   something   stronger   than   oaths   and   service        –       it   is   always   something. 

“   forgive   me,    prince   aemond,    i   fear   i   don't       .   .   .       quite   follow   what   it   is   you   are   asking   of   me.   ”        her   gloved   hands   interlace   together   in   front   of   her,    a   careful   flicker   of   grey   -   blue   eyes   across   his   features,    studying   the   careful   twitch   of   muscles,    each   consideration   even   as   his   voice   softens.        “   if   you   have   not   come   here   to   kill   me,    or   my   kin,    then   perhaps   the   northern   air   has   done   you   well   in   the   fraction   of   time   you   have   drawn   breath   within   it.   ” 

red   curls   billow   in   the   wind,    cold   encompassing   the   courtyard,    but   sansa   dares   not   to   allow   herself   even   so   much   as   a   hint   of   a   tremble   now.    not   when   she   must   be   the   voice   of   those   who   needed   her.    nor   would   she   dare   allow   him   inside   the   walls   of   winterfell   proper,    not   without   a   better   promise   of   his   intentions.        “   your   dragon   will   not   like   it   here.   ”        she   says   softly,    boots   shifting   upon   the   stone   path.        “   even   visenya   did   not   fly   so   far   north   with   her.    i   cannot   decide   whether   that   makes   you   courageous   or   full   of   folly.   "        or   both.       those   words   go   unspoken,    though   the   implication   remains   as   sansa   shifts   her   gaze   from   aemond   to   beyond   the   walls   of   the   courtyard,    beyond   to   where   she   fears   for   the   worst   in   seeing   large   wings   of   a   dragon   come   to   life   again. 

“   speak   plainly   of   your   wishes,    and   i   will   allow   you   both   warmth   for   the   evening.    else   i   am   just   as   keen   to   stand   here   with   you   all   night,    it   will   not   be   i   who   freezes   first.   ”

[lesbianracecars]

Every year we must pass around Sting Ray Robb and his good Christian Bible app money and that's just the way it must be

[likeafairytale]

“ Do you want to try too? Surely you can't be as bad as your sister. ” – Yasmeen to Malachai, while she's ice skating with Calypso

“Hey!” Calypso yelled, a bit offended.

Yasmeen tried to hide her amusement, but she couldn't. She wasn't wrong, though, Calypso was struggling to stay steady on the ice and almost fell more than once. Malachai couldn't help but laugh at the view of his sister, and while she came closer to him, she hit his shoulder, making him jumped. He pretended she hurt him, and she seemed proud of herself, which made her brother smile with amusement. The merman stayed in the bank of the frozen lake, while holding his sister, who was still struggling to stay on her feet.

His attention was now on the frozen lake. It was the first time he saw one, and he had to admit it was mesmerizing. It was Calypso's first winter in the Fae Kingdom, –and so his first one too– and winter was full of surprise. The snow, the cold, the warm clothes, the hot cocoa, the fireplace always burning, and Christmas, something the merfolks did not celebrate under the sea. It was a strange season, Malachai thought. Winter did not exist under the sea, obviously there were a change in the current, the water was a bit colder than usual, but it was hard to tell the difference as they were living in deep water, and water there was always colder than the rest of the ocean. And if Calypso welcomed the new season with open arms, it wasn't the case for Malachai.

“No, I came to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Calypso repeated, a bit confused. “Why? Where are you going?”

“Back home.”

“When?”

“Tonight...”

Malachai suddenly felt unease when he saw how distraught she now was. She let go of his hand, even if that meant almost falling once again, and stepped back, the best she could, with Yasmeen's help. The maid did not let go of the princess, and the latter shook her head at her brother's words, because she did not want to accept them.

“But why?..”

“Duty calls me.”

“Can't you ignore it? We were supposed to celebrate Christmas together, it's our first Christmas, Malachai!” She whined and he grimaced. The merman hated to break his sister's heart, and he knew how much she hated seeing him or Nathaniel leave the Fae Kingdom, not only because that means she was loosing her support system, but also because unlike them, she could not go back to the ocean, which she was jealous.

“I'm sorry, little sister, but I have to. We can celebrate next year. And you won't be alone, Nathaniel stays here.”

“It won't be the same without you!” She screamed, her eyes full of tears. Her eyes were burning now, because of the cold, and she violently let go of Yasmeen's hand that she was still holding. The little mermaid then took off her skates, –not without difficulties– before running away straight to the castle.

“Calypso, come back. Cally don't be childish.”

But it was too late, the girl was already far away. Malachai sighed to her behaviour while shaking his head. He looked at his sister while she was running, and he promised himself that he will bring back her favourite treat, and probably some of her shells that she was collecting in order to be forgiven.

“The sirens again?”

Yasmeen's question brought Malachai's attention back to her. She shyly handed him her hand, and it took a few second for Malachai to understand what she was silently asking. Shaking his head, he softly took her hand, and that physical contact sent a shiver in his spine. He noticed that Yasmeen, too, quivered, but maybe it was just his imagination, maybe she was just cold. He helped her leave the frozen lake and sat on the bench next to her while she took off her skate in order to put her shoes on.

“No, not this time.” He confessed, and Malachai hesitated for a split second, but he then added: “The Selkies. Apparently, they are unhappy with the treaty father proposed, and they threaten to follow the sirens if we do not hear them out. Father is too stubborn to listen to them, so I said I will, in order to keep the peace.”

He was a bit surprised to be so open with her about the merfolks politics. A little part of him wasn't sure if he should discuss it to Yasmeen who was, after all, one of Morgana's maid. But keeping all of it for himself, without no one to confide was weighing on his shoulders. Plus, last time they had problem with the sirens, her helped and knowledge of battle strategy helped them to keep the Norwegian sea. He owed her his home after all. He silently looked at her, studying her facial expression, and he could tell she was lost in her thought. Yasmeen was a real mystery, and he wanted to be the one to pierce her shield. He was waiting for questions, about politics and probably what would be his strategy, but none of that came.

“You know, if you were more open with her, maybe she wouldn't be so mad about you leaving.”

“I cannot tell her, or Nathaniel. It would put unnecessary worries on them, they do not need that.”

“It's their home too, they deserve to know.”

“Not now. Please, can it stay between us?”

“I promise.” He smiled to those words, and she smiled back. To that he couldn't help but blush a little, for she had a pretty smile. “How long will you be gone?”

“Three months.”

“Oh...” She whispered, visibly surprised. Malachai loved to think that she was sad, or disappointed, but he did not want to ask, so he simply shrugged.

“Negotiation took longer than a battle sometimes.”

“This isn't the only reason why you are leaving, am I right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I watched you while you were coming. You limp.”

“You watched me?” He smiled, and she seemed unease, which made him laughed a little. “Is it that obvious?”

“More than usual, at least.”

“I admit that I also try to avoid winter, I do not enjoy it very much...”

He nodded to those words and couldn't help but grimace a little. He thought he had it under control, but visibly he was wrong. The merman was hoping that no one else noticed it except Yasmeen. The cold was chilling his bones and waking up some old wound that did not heal properly, like his limp. So yes, he took the disagreement with the Selkies as an opportunity to go back to the sea and avoid the cold that was winter. Yasmeen had a little laugh at his words, and that made his heart missed a beat. Here was the song that he probably loved the most. A smile took place on his face, happy to have made her laugh.

When she looked at him, he suddenly realized how close they were. He might have come closer during their conversation, without realizing it, and she probably did not realize too, because she did not move at all. For a few minutes, they looked at each other, silently, as they used to. None of them moved. This proximity, although unusual between them, was welcomed by both. The merman wanted to hold her hand, and he was ready to take it, when he heard the crispy noise of the snow, meaning that someone was coming from behind. Immediately, Yasmeen stood up, and Malachai backed up in the bench, looking away. He noticed that it was just a servant passing by, no one important, but the fear of being caught was still there. The girl cleared her throat while gathering hers and Calypso's skates.

“I should go make sure the princess is alright.”

“Yasmeen, wait.” He started, and he almost regretted it. She turned around, looking at him with curiosity in her eyes, and he cursed himself for acting before thinking. Malachai listened, making sure they were just the two of them, before timidly saying: “I... I'm going to miss you.” He could that the girl was trying to hide how surprised she was by his words. She stayed silent, and he couldn't blame her. He probably took her aback, and to be honest, he did not expect her to answer anything to him. “Anyway, tell my siblings I'll make it up to them when I'll come back. And... I'll bring you back a souvenir.” He finally said, an awkward smile on his face, before leaving the Fae Kingdom.

[meganechan05]

What if, for a silly episode, instead of a bodyswap episode, it's a personality swap episode?

Take it a step further and it's the team trying to take care of an extremely bubbly and emotional Rita.

And have no idea how to talk to them because they almost never hear them talk for more than ten seconds.

Do yall see the vision??

[mbat]

i find it really interesting by the way that in the flashback to the both of them being angels, crowley is clearly not really paying aziraphale much mind? like, he just called him over to help him for a second and then talk to him about this thing he was excited for, he doesnt even bother telling him his name, and hell he also comes off as being higher ranked to me somehow, idk. and then aziraphale gives him bad news and makes him all sad and they talk a bit like that, but crowley is like, still not really considering this dude hes talking to, mostly focusing on his own stuff

but he still bothers to hold out a wing to shield him from the "rain" at the end...

[letsplaythermalnuclearwar]

Polites: hey, what's your favourite thing about Penelope?

Odysseus on a bad day: idk her eyes I guess

Polites: cool cool I'm hosting an intervention

I like to think that Polites, and maybe the other men, would check up on Odysseus' mental state by talking about his wife lmao

he'll never waste a second to talk about her LMAO

[hirazuki]

Hmm.

So, normally when I draw, I put something to play on my one computer screen while I have my references up on the other, as a form of background noise. I find music too distracting and I rarely watch anything with real humans in it, so it's usually an animated series I'm very familiar with -- FMA:B, Inuyasha, certain arcs of Bleach or Naruto, Uchuu Senkan Yamato, Death Note, Winx, W.I.T.C.H., etc. -- so that it's entertainment but not to the point of distraction.

I decided to go with FMA:B while working on this recent batch of commissions, as it has the additional perks of, one, being pretty much the only dub that has my approval (thus being extra less distracting by virtue of my not having to glance at subtitles now and then), and two, I've been toying with finally cosplaying from it this coming year and wanted a quick refresher. I'm not the best at math, true, but the possibility that my hyperfixation would abruptly jump tracks from one fandom to another didn't even occur to me because, come on, it's FMA:B, I've watched it a million times.

... I may have miscalculated 😔

[humanjarvis]

good heart

synopsis: zayne wonders if he’s mean. you reassure him otherwise.

tags: fluff. comfort. zayne is self-conscious and cute  pairing: zayne x reader word count: 641

a/n: surprise (not rly) first zayne fic :] it’ll be interesting seeing how i want to write him since i’m probably the most similar to him irl #neurodivergence. also posting the most depraved and fluffiest things i’ve ever written in the same week who said versatility

“Darling, have I ever been…mean to you?” Zayne asks hesitantly.

You’re cuddled on his sofa with your knees resting against him, halfheartedly watching a nature documentary. Brilliant rays of afternoon sunlight pour in through the floor-length windows, drawing most of your attention away from the grasslands and toward the trio of squirrels leaping over leaves in Zayne’s backyard. At his question, you raise your head from its place on his shoulder, squinting at him playfully. 

“Hmm,” you draw out, as if actually taking the time to consider his question. He blinks at you. “Nope! A little impassive, sometimes, sure,” you grin, poking his adorably neutral face. “But never mean.”

He forces out a weak smile at your teasing, gently lowering his gaze to your intertwined hands. 

When you don’t receive the usual politely packaged retort, you furrow your brows in worry. “Why do you ask? What’s wrong?” 

Still fixated on your interlaced fingers, Zayne clears his throat. “At the hospital today,” he starts, “one of the younger patients said I was…mean.” He bites the word out as if it tastes bad, the mere association of it with his character destabilizing his being. 

Perplexed, you unclasp your hand from his to lift his chin. “What happened?” 

“All I did was tell her that if she wants to feel better, she’ll need to take her medicine daily.” Now it’s your turn to blink at him. “Perhaps it was the tone I used, I’m not sure. I haven’t encountered this before.” 

Deep in thought, he moves to bow his head again, unconsciously avoiding your gaze out of unwarranted guilt. With a frown, you grab his face between your hands before that can happen, climbing over his lap to straddle him. 

“The Zayne I know is worried that doing his job makes him mean?” you ask, peering into his startled hazel eyes. “C’mon, Zaynie, she was probably just being stubborn. You of all people should know what it’s like to avoid taking medicine.” Lifting his top lip as if to inspect his teeth, you drive your point home when he flinches away. As his face flushes pink, you feel his cheeks warm under your hands.

“I’m aware that children…and adults…are hesitant to follow doctor’s orders at times,” he says, clearing his throat. “But I also know I'm not the most…expressive of people. I’ve gotten so used to behaving freely when I’m with you that I wasn’t monitoring my mannerisms in the pediatric ward today. I must have appeared quite intimidating to a vulnerable child. The thought made me uncomfortable. It made me wonder if…I’d ever made you feel that way as well,” he grimaces.

With a fond sigh, you tilt his face up to yours to kiss his nose. This time, his blink is slow and confused. 

“The only one you're being mean to is yourself,” you start, pinching his cheeks lightly. “No matter what’s on your face or in your voice, I know what’s in here,” you say, placing a firm palm over his chest. “You wouldn’t be Dr. Zayne without your directness. You wouldn’t be my Zaynie, either. And I happen to like both versions of him very much.” 

As you press another kiss to his nose, the corners of his full lips quirk up. “I suppose I should be nicer to him, then.”

“You’d better. Or else he’ll have to write ‘I am nice. I am kind. I have a good heart’ over and over again until he understands. Surgeons don’t have time for that.” 

“I'm sure I possess the cardiovascular fitness to work it into my schedule,” he quips. “I have a good heart, after all.”

As the joke lands, you give him an exaggerated wince, removing a hand from his smiling face to fake a retch. “Okay, maybe I was wrong. Subjecting me to that? That was a little mean.”

[celestemona]

⋆˙⟡ — FOUR TIMES MUALANI SUSPECTED SOMETHING WAS GOING ON (AND ONE TIME SHE WAS RIGHT)

pairing: kinich x reader

cw: no pronouns mentioned. ajaw is in a vacation. slight but not slight pda. mualani overreacting but she is a sweet. best friends trio. pyro vision reader mentioned. not beta-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Mualani knew Kinich and you were friends—close best friends, just like you two were with her—but lately, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. 

It started with little things, almost too subtle to be noticeable but somehow it didn’t escape from her perception. Things like how Kinich, ever the quiet guy, had begun lingering a little too long when he talked to you, or how you’d run all your way to the Scions of the Canopy's village just to welcome him back after a mission. 

At first, she didn’t pay too much attention thinking you guys were just being more affectionative and caring to each other. However, as time passed by, it has been shown to be more than a mutual friendly appreciation and certainly beyond a mere coincidence. 

I.

The first time Mualani noticed something different was in an early morning by the coast, watching the waves curl and crash. She often started her day stretching at the shore and riding the first waves of dawn. But this time, as she rounded a cliff, she spotted Kinich and you sitting on a rock overlooking the sea. The two of you were close enough that your arms brushed every time the wind picked up.

Kinich’s usual stern expression was softer than usual. Mualani squinted at you suspiciously. Were you... holding hands?

She jogged closer, but just as she got near enough to say something, Kinich quickly stood up, putting a considerable distance between you and himself. “You're up early,” he said, his voice in its usual calm.

You smiled warmly. “Hey girl! How are the waves? We were just discussing about it.”

Mualani tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “You were? Really?”

You let out a light and confusing laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course.”

She didn’t quite buy it, but you didn’t give her any reason to push further. “Well, the waves are good today! You guys joining?”

Kinich only gave her a polite headshaking, while you nodded smiling. Maybe she was imagining things.

II.

Except she wasn’t. 

A few days later, you were hanging out by Tequemecan Valley' canyons with Kinich standing quietly while you and Mualani chatted. However, every time she glanced toward him, Kinich seemed to be watching you a little too intently. It wasn’t the usual hunter’s focus; it was softer, caring, almost like... adoring.

The girl squinted, pretending to be interested in some flowers nearby while keeping an eye on you two. You didn’t seem to notice anything, or if did, you didn’t mind. You just kept talking, your laughter filling the air.

When Mualani caught Kinich staring again, she couldn’t help but ask, “Kinich, you okay? You’ve been zoning out all day.”

He blinked, his neutral mask slipping back into place. “I’m fine.”

“He’s just tired from all the training,” you teased, winking at him.

Mualani raised an eyebrow, astonished by the scene before her eyes. Something was definitely going on.

III.

The third time came on a day when Mualani was guiding a group of Sumeru’s travelers near the springs when she spotted you and Kinich again, standing by the water. As she approached, she saw Kinich leaning down to whisper something to you, his lips close to your ear. You giggled softly in response.

Wait a minute... Kinich never whispers to anyone. Much less in such an intimate way and even less to make someone laugh. Mualani's instincts flared up immediately. What was he saying? And why did you look so happy about it?

She cleared her throat loudly as she walked up. “Hey. What are you two whispering about?”

Kinich straightened up quickly, crossing his arms. “Nothing important.”

You smiled at her, but there was a glimmer in your eyes that made the girl even more suspicious. “Just a silly joke,” you said lightly.

A joke, huh? Mualani filed it away in her mind. This time she was very determined to figure out what was going on between you two.

IV.

It was late afternoon, and Mualani had just finished surfing when she saw you two by the waterside. Kinich and you stood close, so close as it has strangely been, and for a brief moment, she could have sworn Kinich was about to lean in and kiss you.

She froze, watching from a distance as you smiled up at him, your palm softly pushing his chest away. Were you two really about to kiss? It couldn’t be just her angle view. Could it be?

But just as quickly as it happened, Kinich stepped back, his usual stoic demeanor falling back into place. You turned and waved at her, your smile as bright as ever.

“Lani. Hey! How was the surf?” you called out.

Mualani, still in shock, shook her head. “Uh... good. Really good.”

She stared at you both for a moment longer, convinced she’d almost witnessed something, but there was no proof. Again.

V.

In the several days that followed, Mualani continued to witness that strangeness that kept repeating itself every time you thought she wasn’t around, creating a certain tension between her and you and Kinich—although she doubted that you had noticed any difference, treating her as you always did from the beginning.

Even if it relieved her to know that nothing had changed in your friendship, the surfer couldn't help but feel upset too. Was it that bad if she found out? Didn't you trust her the same way she trusted you? She wanted to be able to release all of her thoughts and ask you if maybe there was something in your bond that was bothering you. But she didn't. And so, things remained the same.

That was a quiet evening, and the moon hung low over the mountains. Mualani had been taking a stroll, enjoying the peaceful night, when she stumbled upon you.

This time, though, there was no mistaking it—Kinich and you stood together under some trees, locked in a slow, deep kiss.

The girl’s cheeks burned as red as the pyro vision you hold so dear closely, eyes widely opening and heart skipping a beat. She gasped, louder than she intended, and both of you quickly turned toward her. You blinked twice before smiling stiffly, even daring to look a bit embarrassed, while Kinich gave her a calm look, his hands still resting on your waist.

“You two!” She exclaimed shaking her head, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me earlier! I mean, I knew something was up, but really?”

You bit your lip while Kinich just blinked at her, slightly starting to look more guilty as well.

“We didn’t mean to keep it from you for long,” you said as you stepped out of Kinich’s arms and reached for her hand. “We were just... taking our time.”

Mualani arched an eyebrow. “Taking your time? You two were being so weird and annoying with all those suspicious interactions for weeks now! I’m supposed to be your best friend!”

Kinich rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. “We wanted to keep it quiet,” he said, his voice low. “At first, anyway.”

Mualani softened, her fake scold melting away into genuine affection. “Still, I would’ve loved to know sooner,” she said, her tone gentler now. “You know me better than anyone else. You know I would never judge you,” she sighed as she watches the sorrow on your face. “Nevertheless, I’m really happy for you both. Really am.”

You beamed and even Kinich’s usual stoic expression seemed to relax slightly.

Mualani continued, her voice full of warmth. “I’ve always known you two had something special. And now that I know for sure, you better believe I’m fully on board with this!” She shot Kinich a playful look. “Just make sure you treat (Y/N) right, okay?”

Kinich nodded, his eyes softening as he glanced at you. “I will.”

You squeezed Mualani’s hand, your eyes sparkling with gratitude and pure happiness. “Thank you, Lani. Your support means a lot to us.”

Mualani grinned, pulling you both into a tight hug. “Just don’t keep secrets from me again, alright? I’m always here for you two.”

You all laughed but shared a quick but sweet bond moment, the atmosphere light and easy. And somehow, Mualani couldn’t help but feel like everything had fallen into place just the way it was meant to.

“But just for your information. If the day comes of you get engaged and don’t tell me immediately, I’ll crash the proposal myself, make a huge scene, and tell everyone how long I’ve had to put up with your not so secret glances and not so subtle hand-holding. Trust me, it won’t be pretty!”

[mssishipi]

devil in disguise — sjy

— anon asked: infidelity with jake would go crazy bro like he’d be saying “you’re so disgusting” and it’s true it disgusts him how his bestfriend’s pussy milks his cock

warning: cheating, jake is an asshole, explicit content (smut): unprotected sex, degradation. MDNI.

It was almost laughable—how you always clung to Jake's side, no matter what he did, no matter how much trouble he got himself into. It was as if loyalty blinded you, shielding you from the truth everyone else could see so clearly.

You were an angel, the one his parents adored, the soft-hearted girl who couldn't even bring herself to harm a fly.

Polite, gentle, the kind of person who would apologize even when someone else stepped on your foot.

It was hilarious how you always had an excuse for him, always a justification on the tip of your tongue every time he do something.

Like that time when he got into a fight because of some fraternity nonsense. His parents had been furious.

And yet, there you were, standing in front of them, your eyes wide, your voice trembling with conviction.

"Jake defended me!"

Except that was a lie.

Jake hadn't been defending you. He don't care. The guy had simply pissed him off. He always did. It had nothing to do with you, but you refused to see that. Maybe it was easier that way—to pretend Jake had some noble reason, that his fists weren't just another weapon he wielded whenever he felt like it.

It was almost amusing—the way you always listened to him, how you followed him around ever since the two of you were kids.

You were the kind of best friend who never strayed too far, always orbiting around him, always there. He wasn't sure if he should find it endearing or just plain irritating. Maybe a bit of both.

He could do the most questionable things, and without fail, you'd always have his back.

"Thank you, Jaeyun-ah! You know I don't like Jungwon—he's always ranked first. He deserves to be caught cheating."

You grinned at him, clutching your notebook to your chest as if he had done you some great favor. But Jake hadn't done it for you. He hadn't even thought of you when he slipped that answer key into Jungwon's bag. He was just bored, looking for something to break the monotony. Watching the teachers drag Jungwon to the disciplinary office had simply been an added bonus.

"It's okay, Jaeyun-ah! What you're feeling is valid. I'm sure Yuta deserved that punch—he's a creep."

You had been so quick to reassure him. But Yuta wasn't a creep. Jake had made that up on a whim, an excuse to put the guy in his place, to see him crumble. Because he was bored.

It was almost amusing—how you, of all people, always knew the difference between right and wrong. You were kind, the type to preach fairness, to stand up for what was just.

And yet, when it came to him, all of that fell apart. You always had an excuse, always a justification ready on your lips, as if his actions existed outside the rules that applied to everyone else.

Sim Jaeyun had you wrapped around his finger so effortlessly, it was��pathetic.

And honestly, it was disgusting.

"Jaeyun-ah!" you squealed, your voice breaking into a moan as your fingers dug into his back, clinging to him. Your breath hitching as he hit that spot over and over again.

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex. His phone buzzed relentlessly on the bedside table, the screen flashing with his girlfriend's name. Over and over, the call came, the shrill ring cutting through the muffled sound of skin slapping against skin. But neither of you moved. Neither of you cared.

It was disgusting—how easily you spread your legs for him, how willingly you became his escape whenever she couldn't satisfy him. You never hesitated, never even flinched when he came to you, already knowing what he wanted.

He still loved his girlfriend. With everything he had. But she could never give him the kind of mind-numbing, toe-curling release that you did.

"It's in a man's nature, Jaeyun-ah," you had whispered to him once, your fingers lazily tracing patterns over his bare chest, your body still warm from the aftermath of what you had just done. Your voice always had been soft and sweet. "Men have needs. It's only natural to seek satisfaction elsewhere when she can't give you what you want."

Jake remembered those words vividly, the way you had said them with such certainty, as if you truly believed them. As if your presence in his bed, tangled in his sheets, was anything but a betrayal.

"Maybe it's even her fault," you had added, tilting your head to look at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "She should know better. She should do better. If she really loved you, wouldn't she try harder to make you happy?"

Your justifications were always so effortless, so convincing. You never made him feel guilty, never accused him of being selfish or cruel. Instead, you framed it like you were the only one who truly understood him, the only one who could give him what he needed without judgment.

It was painfully obvious that you were in love with him.

And it disgusted him.

Every longing glance, every adoring smile, every saccharine word that spilled from your lips—it all made his skin crawl.

Yet, despite the repulsion twisting in his gut, he kept coming back. Again and again. Because at the end of the day, you were the only one who truly understood him. The only one who never judged, never asked for more than he was willing to give.

"I said don't give me marks!" Jake growled as he grabbed your wrists, prying your hands off his back where your nails had been sinking into his skin.

Without giving you a chance to react, he shoved you down, caging you beneath him. His arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders, trapping your limbs against your sides as his weight pressed into you. His knees planted firmly on either side of your thighs, bracing himself as he drove deeper, making you take every inch of him.

The bed creaked beneath you, the room filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, your ragged breaths mixing with his.

And despite the way he loathed the way you looked at him, despite how much your affection disgusted him—he still couldn't stop.

"You love fucking like this?" Jake growled into your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he drove into you with unrelenting force.

"Yes! Fuck, I love your cock inside me, Jaeyun-ah! Fuck me harder!" you sobbed, your voice breaking with each thrust. Your mind was drowning in the pleasure he ruthlessly forced upon you.

Jake exhaled sharply, his breath ragged as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

His arms tightened around you, locking you in place beneath him. He didn't give you a second to breathe, because your body was nothing more than a means to chase his own satisfaction.

Jake groaned as he felt you clench around him, your walls tightening, desperately trying to keep him buried deep. The way your body surrendered so easily, so pathetically. It was hilarious, how little self-control you had when it came to him.

"You fucking disgust me," he sneered. His thrusts never slowed as he tilted his head slightly, watching the way your face twisted in pleasure, eyes glazed over, lips parted as broken moans spilled from your throat.

"Getting off on your best friend’s cock? That’s just pathetic."

You shook your head wildly, fingers clawing at his back, legs trembling around his waist. "I don’t care!" you gasped, "just want you, Jaeyun-ah! Just want your cock—please!"

Jake let out a breathy chuckle, "Of course, you don’t," he muttered. His teeth grazed your shoulder before he bit down, hard, marking you. Your body jerked beneath him, a sharp whimper escaping your lips as he tightened his grip on your waist, pressing you impossibly closer, molding you against him like you were made to take him.

Your tongue traced the ridges of his collarbone, wet and hot, leaving a trail of saliva as if you wanted to claim him just as much. Jake hissed, his muscles tensing beneath your touch, his pace turning brutal. His name tore from your lips in screams, your body writhing, thrashing, but his arms locked around you, keeping you exactly where he wanted.

And then, without warning, your orgasm crashed over you—sudden, violent, leaving you gasping, eyes rolling back as your body went rigid beneath him. No slow build-up, no warning. Just raw, overwhelming pleasure that left you completely undone.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm pulsed through you, leaving your body trembling beneath him, Jake didn’t slow. If anything, he fucked you through it, dragging out every last bit of your high until you were left whimpering, overstimulated, body twitching against his pace.

"Look at you," he scoffed as he watched your fucked-out expression. "Completely ruined over your best friend’s cock. What would your parents think if they saw you like this?"

Your lips parted, but only breathless moans escaped.

Jake chuckled darkly, his pace faltering just long enough for him to grab your chin, forcing your dazed eyes to meet his. "And what about my girlfriend?"  he mused, tilting his head as if genuinely curious. "She has no idea you’re spreading your legs for me every time she turns her back. That you’re nothing but a cheap fuck whenever she can’t satisfy me."

For a split second, he saw that pathetic flicker of sadness in your gaze. But Jake didn’t care.

Because he knew you. Knew the way you worked. No matter how much he degraded you, no matter how cruel his words got, you would always come crawling back. Always.

Because that’s who you were.

Jake pulled out abruptly, leaving you gasping at the sudden emptiness. His hands were rough, impatient, as he flipped you over, manhandling you into the position he wanted. You barely had a moment to react before he shoved your face down against the mattress, pressing hard against the back of your neck, keeping you in place.

"Stay still," he muttered, his other hand gripping your hip, lifting your ass high in the air.

You barely had time to process the shift before the sharp buzz of his phone filled the room again, the sound coming from the bedside table. His jaw ticked in irritation, but he didn’t reach for it. Instead, he lined himself up with your entrance, cursing under his breath.

Then, without warning, he thrust back inside.

Another scream tore from your lips, your fingers scrambling against the sheets, trying to ground yourself as the force of his movements sent shocks of pleasure and pain coursing through you. Your walls fluttered around him instinctively, struggling to adjust to the new angle, but he didn’t slow down.

"Tighten up," Jake growled. "Feels like I’m just fucking my fist."

You clenched around him immediately, an attempt to please him, but the effort only made your body tremble harder. Your vision blurred as fresh tears welled in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks, soaking into the sheets beneath you.

Jake noticed. His fingers tangled into your hair, yanking your head up, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes were glassy, lips trembling, breath coming in short, shaky gasps.

"Aww," Jake cooed mockingly, tilting his head as his grip on your hair tightened. His fingers twisted cruelly in the strands, yanking your head back until your neck arched, forcing your tear-streaked face into view. "Is my sweet angel hurt?"

You sniffled, trying to steady your breath, but the way he kept thrusting into you made it impossible to think, let alone speak. Your fingers dug into the sheets, knuckles turning white as your body rocked in time with his brutal pace.

And then you smiled—soft, sweet, broken. The kind of expression you knew would make something dark flicker in his eyes.

"I don't care, Jaeyun-ah," you whispered, your gaze met his, unwavering despite the tears threatening to spill. "That's my purpose, right?"

His reaction was instant. A low growl rumbled in his chest, and without hesitation, he shoved you back down, pressing your face into the mattress. The force knocked the air from your lungs, but you still moaned.

Jake cursed under his breath, his grip on your hips tightening as his thrusts turned erratic. You could feel it—the way his cock twitched inside you, the way his breath grew uneven, muscles tensing. He was close.

"Fuck, I trained my angel so well," he grunted, punctuating his words with a harsh slap to your ass. The impact stung, a sharp burst of pain that made you whimper. His moans were growing louder, more desperate, the telltale signs of his impending climax.

"That's right, Jake!" you cried out, voice breaking. "Make yourself cum in me—your fucking boring girlfriend could never!"

The second those words left your lips, his hand shot forward, slapping over your mouth and muffling your moans.

"Shut the fuck up," Jake growled. His other hand dug into your hip, his grip so tight you knew there’d be bruises tomorrow. "You don’t get to talk about her. Don’t fucking ruin my orgasm by running that filthy mouth of yours."

A sharp, burning twist coiled in your chest at his words. But at the same time, the thick drag of his cock against your cervix make your walls clamped down around him, squeezing so tight it forced a strangled moan from his throat.

"Fuck—" Jake groaned, his head falling forward against your back, breath ragged, body tensed as his thrusts turned erratic. His fingers dug into your hips, keeping you locked in place as he chased his release. "I'm gonna cum, angel."

A strangled sound tore from his throat, his grip bruising as he drove himself deep one last time. And then, with a low, guttural moan, he spilled inside you.

The heat of it, the way he pulsed and twitched against your walls, sent you spiraling instantly. Your orgasm hit violent, all-consuming, crashing through you with no mercy. Euphoria flooded every nerve, burning through your veins, leaving you boneless beneath him.

You gasped, lips parted in a silent cry, your body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure wracked through you. It felt endless, like falling through space with no ground to catch you, no way to stop.

Jake groaned again, feeling the way your walls fluttered and clenched around him, milking every last drop from his spent cock. He twitched, giving a few more lazy thrusts, fucking his cum deeper into you, pushing past the oversensitivity that made your thighs shake and your breath stutter.

Slowly, his pace lost momentum, his thrusts turning shallow, sluggish, until finally, he stilled. His weight pressed against you as he exhaled heavily, letting the last remnants of pleasure fade into exhaustion.

The room was filled with nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths, the sweat cooling on your flushed skin, the lingering heat of what you’d just done.

And then, as the high began to ebb, as the last shocks of pleasure melted into nothingness, the emptiness settled in.

A hollow ache replaced the euphoria, leaving you nothing more than a trembling, used mess sprawled out beneath him.

Jake let out a slow, heavy breath as he ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, his body still humming with the remnants of release. The warmth of you still clung to his skin, but he didn’t spare you a glance as he pulled out, leaving a mess between your trembling thighs.

Grabbing his phone from your bedside table, he stared at the screen, scrolled through the flood of missed calls and unread messages. The screen illuminated his face, jaw tightening slightly before he sighed, thumbs moving quickly to type a response.

Your gaze followed him, watching as he moved around the room without hesitation. He didn’t look at you—not even once—as he grabbed his discarded clothes from the floor, slipping his jeans back on, adjusting his belt with the ease of someone who had done this a hundred times before.

The scent of sex still clung to his skin, and he knew it. Without pause, he reached for the bottle of cologne he always carried, spritzing it over himself, masking the evidence of what had just happened between you.

You were still sprawled out on the bed, your chest pressed against the damp sheets, your body aching, marked, used. 

"I gotta get home before she starts getting suspicious," Jake muttered, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

But before leaving, he paused at the door, casting a dark stare over his shoulder. His expression hardened, his voice colder.

"Shut your mouth. You already know that, don’t you?"

You swallowed thickly, throat tightening as you forced a small, obedient "Yes."

For a moment, there was nothing. Just silence stretching between the two of you, thick and suffocating. Then, as if flipping a switch, Jake’s entire demeanor shifted. A slow, sickeningly sweet smile spread across his lips as he turned back toward you.

Walking over, he crouched slightly to meet your tired gaze, brushing a few damp strands of hair from your face before pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. The gesture was soft—mockingly so.

"See you next time, angel. Don’t do something stupid, hmm?" His voice was gentle, almost affectionate, like he actually cared.

And like the fool you were, you smiled at him, nodding eagerly despite the rawness in your throat, despite the soreness in your body.

Jake exhaled a quiet chuckle, tilting his head as he watched you. "My good girl."

Leaning in once more, he pecked your lips, his touch featherlight, almost tender. But beneath it, there was nothing. No warmth, no real emotion. Just obligation.

It was a role he played, a meaningless act that kept you tethered to him. And seeing you smile so sweetly, so utterly oblivious—it made his stomach twist with something akin to revulsion.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Jake let out a slow, irritated breath, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off something unpleasant.

Without sparing a second thought, he pulled out his phone, thumbs scrolling through his girlfriend’s messages.

You had always stood by Sim Jaeyun’s side—through every mistake, every decision, every selfish impulse. You defended him when no one else would, gave him everything without hesitation. It didn’t matter what he did; you always understood, always forgave, always stayed.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, nails digging so deep into the fabric they nearly tore through it. Your chest rose and fell in uneven breaths.

You stared at the door he had just walked out of, the one he never even bothered to look back at.

You let a quiet breathy laugh—before it bubbled up into hysterical and unhinged. Tears streamed freely down your face.

"His angel, my ass."

The words dripped from your tongue. a wicked little smile curling on your lips.

You had always been there for him. Always the loyal one. Always the perfect, obedient little toy he could use and toss aside when it was convenient. You had let him take and take and take.

Your gaze flickered to the ceiling, to the tiny red light blinking faintly in the dark.

You were his angel, after all. His good girl. So predictable, so harmless.

How cute.

You tilted your head as your nails dragged lazily across your own thigh, smearing the mess he left behind.

You almost felt bad for him. 

Because, Sim Jaeyun did not, in fact, train his angel well.

[i-get-obsessed-fast]

Classroom Talk | Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer drops your lunch off to your classroom filled with apparent love experts, who then question the man you’re with and tease you two for not being married yet…

A/N: idk why but I just thought of this, it’s adorable though. Not proofread too tired for that. LOL.

BYR(b4 you Reid): light teasing, Spencer getting kind of bullied by teens, and fluff :))

You were at your desk, deep in teacher mode. Grading assignments, updating the grade book, the usual rhythm of a productive day.

You glanced up and saw your students working quietly for once, either reading the latest chapter you’d assigned or scribbling their thoughts in journals. It was that rare magical moment every teacher silently prays for: peace.

Naturally, it didn’t last.

There was a knock at the door.

Every single head turned in unison. Including yours.

“Hello.” A familiar voice said, soft and polite, peeking into the room like he wasn’t about to cause utter chaos.

Spencer.

Your brilliant, shy, awkward boyfriend. Standing in your classroom.

You blinked, stunned. “What are you doing here?” You asked, smiling like this was the best little surprise.

“Someone.” He said, raising a brow and holding your bag up. “Forgot their lunch at home.”

You walked over to meet him halfway, shaking your head. “Wow, I didn’t even realize.”

His hand instinctively went to your waist as he handed you your lunch, you turned to face your students, you immediately regretted it.

Half of them were staring blankly. The other half wore smug little smirks, the kind you’ve seen way too many times this year.

You sighed, already sensing the storm brewing. “Everyone, this is Spencer.” You introduced him. He gave an awkward wave and shy smile, very much regretting every life choice that led him to this moment.

“Hi.” Came a chorus of teenage politeness, which was immediately shattered by

“Is that your husband?” Silas blurted. Of course it was Silas.

You chuckled. “No, not my husband.”

“Fiancé?” Someone else chimed in.

“Boyfriend.” Spencer said, trying to sound casual.

“Oooh!” “Awws” “no way” erupted from every direction.

Mia raised an eyebrow. “You have a boyfriend? Why didn’t you tell us? We thought you were lonely!”

You blinked. “I-well- I didn’t think you needed to know about my personal life.”

“Why? We always tell you about ours.”

You stared at them. “That’s…true, unfortunately.”

“I always thought you and the basketball coach would be cute.” Someone tossed out.

Spencer’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

You stepped in. “Okay! That’s enough. You’re scaring him”

The class laughed, clearly delighted.

You turned back to Spencer, lowering your voice. “Thanks for this. Lunch is in fifteen, have time?”

He smiled. “For you? Always.”

You motioned to the chair near your desk, and he sat, awkward but trying. You returned to your seat, praying your students would go back to their journals.

Nope.

Olivia’s hand shot up.

“Yes? Olivia?”

“Why is your boyfriend dressed like he’s coming from a funeral?”

You choked back a laugh, Spencer blinked at you, betrayed.

“Well.” You said sweetly. “Spencer?”

He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Uh…my job?”

“What do you do?”

“I’m with the FBI.” He said, a little more confidently. “Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“Boring.” Someone muttered.

Your head snapped up. “Hey! Be nice. His job is actually super important.” You say going to your sweet lovely boyfriend’s defense because only you can pick on him.

“Yeah, shut up. Let him talk.” Silas said.

You raised a brow. “Appreciate the support, not the tone.”

Spencer smiled faintly. “What we do is analyze criminal behavior to help catch criminals. It’s called profiling.”

“It’s like psychology.” You added. “It’s really cool.”

“So you predict what people do? Do me!” Ethan asked.

“Uh…it doesn’t quite work like that.” Spencer replied.

Ethan sighed, immediately unimpressed.

“So you get to catch criminals?” Mia asked.

“Yeah. We do.” Spencer said, nodding.

“Cool.” Silas grinned. “Do you see crime scenes? Are they gross?”

“Very.” Spencer said.

And now they were really invested.

“What’s the worst you’ve ever seen?” Someone asked

Spencer opened his mouth.

“Nope!” You interrupted. “Do not answer that.” The class groaned. “Sorry, guys.”

“How long have you guys been together?” Mia asked.

You hesitated. “Four years. Now get back to work.”

“Four years and no ring? That’s sad.” Silas said. Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“Are you guys scared of marriage or something?” Olivia teased. You and Spencer both looked equally offended.

“No.” You said crossing your arms. “We’re just…comfortable.” Spencer nodded. “We’re happy where we are. Right?” He asked, his head snapping to you for confirmation.

You smiled. “Right.”

“Well, if my boyfriend didn’t propose after four years, I’d dump him.” Mia declared. You shook your head. “When did this classroom turn into a relationship panel?”

“Yeah.” Spencer added. “How old are you guys? Fourteen? Fifteen?”

The room broke into laughter.

Finally, the bell rang. “Thank god.” You muttered, watching them pack up.

A few waved at Spencer, others giggled as they walked past. And then Olivia stopped right next to him.

“She’s a lovely woman. You should really put a ring on her finger.”

Then she was gone.

Spencer turned to you, you were already laughing.

“She’s not wrong.” You said making your way to him, grabbing his hand. “I am pretty lovely.”

“I am never stepping foot in this classroom again.” He said. “That was more stressful than interrogating a serial killer.”

“Oh, come on. I think they liked you.”

“Really? Because that comment about the basketball couch felt very personal.”

You laughed and nudged him. “You’re focused on the wrong thing.”

“What should I be focusing on?”

“Marrying me.”

He paused, then smiled. “Noted.”

You walked toward your classroom door, twisting the lock. Spencer was still by your desk, looking mildly traumatized.

“Are you okay?” You asked, trying not to laugh.

“I’ve been shot at less aggressively than I was questioned in here.” He replied, deadpan. “And I sensed one of your students wanting to fight me. I saw the glint in their eyes.”

You laughed. “Well, you held your own. I’m proud of you.”

You moved a chair next to Spencer, and took a seat, unwrapping your sandwich. He watched you for a second, then leaned in with a smile.

“So…four years no ring?” He said, repeating Silas’ line like he was testing it out loud.

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t you start.”

“Hey, I’m just saying. The experts have spoken. We’re on thin ice.”

“You’re right, should I just elope with the basketball coach?”

Spencer gave a dramatic gasp. “I knew it.”

You nodded. “He is tall, and charming.”

“Wow. Okay, now I am scared.”

You smiled, nudging your foot against his. “You know I don’t need a ring to feel secure with you, right?”

“I know.” He said softly, reaching out to brush your hand. “But also…I don’t not want to marry you someday.”

Your heart did a flip. You tried to play it cool, like your knees didn’t suddenly feel like jello.

“Yeah?” You asked, voice softer.

He nodded. “Yeah. Just…not because Olivia told me to. Although she is very convincing.”

“She is. Probably runs the underground student government.”

“Definitely. But I’ve thought about it before. And I want to do it the right way. You’d deserve something…meaningful. Not pressured by a bunch of freshman armed with sass and curiosity.”

You grinned. “I do love something meaningful.”

He leaned in slightly, teasing. “So…no courthouse wedding tomorrow after work?”

You thought about it. “Only if we go matching in some ridiculous couples costume.”

“That actually sounds incredible.”

You both laughed, the weight of the moment balanced by the natural ease between you. You leaned your head on his shoulder and exhaled.

“I liked seeing you here.” You murmured. “Even if they grilled you like a suspect.”

He chuckled. “Next time, I’m bringing backup. Maybe Morgan.”

“Oh please, if Morgan walked in here, half the girls would faint.”

He smiled, agreeing with you.

You then grabbed his hand. “Thank you for bringing my lunch.”

“Anytime. Next time I’ll bring a ring, just to keep them happy.”

You lifted your head. “If you propose in my classroom, I will throw a dry erase marker at you.”

“Romantic.” He whispered, his smile never leaving his face, you looked at him, and he kissed your forehead.

“I love you.”

“I love you most.”

SO ADORABLE WTH

- Tag List ~

@alastorssimp @sleepysongbirdsings @khxna

[koffeinkaos]

Arthur, sitting on the throne, sees one of his guards perk up when Merlin entered the room. After everyone leaves again, Arthur adresses the man: Are you friends with Merlin?

Guard: Uh no, Sire, but he is always very kind to us.

Arthur: Kind? Merlin??

Guard with a smile: yes very polite. Everyone likes Merlin

Arthur: hm I guess I can see that. The knights love him too. He is very loyal, I have to give him that.

Guard: He is also very funny

Arthur: Yes and his clumsiness... It's

Guard: endearing?

Arthur: Endearing! Yes. He's also very brave!

Guard: And nobody can stay mad at him. Even Cook lets him steal sweets from time to time.

Arthur: Yeah my father liked him as well. I think it has something to do with those damn dimples

Guard: Dimples, my lord?

Arthur: Yes he's adorable when he smiles. Makes you feel... Stuff

Guard:

Arthur: Not in a bad way!! It's kinda nice actually. And sometimes he says things like... Oh! When he says 'my king' he can make it sound like the highest praise. And then his eyes look at me with so much trust and they are such a nice shade of blue. Not pale but very bright, you know? Like the sky on a summer day.

Guard:

Arthur smiling softly: and his hair contrast them quite stunningly. It curls at the ends, I noticed when we are out on hunts and it starts to rain. Then the curls come out. I bet they are soft. Sometimes i wish we could switch roles and i would get to comb his hair like he does for me...

Guard:?

Arthur: Do you think he sees me as his friend?

Guard: Of course, Sire! He barely leaves your side! He has slept in front of your door before. Actually he does that still, when it's Richard's turn to guard your chambers.

Arthur, grinning: Really??

Guard nods.

Arthur, leaning back in his throne with a content sigh and a serene expression: Okay I'm ready now. Bring the next petitioner in please.

[nativegirltapes]

angel!reader dressing up as Lola Bunny for Halloween bc it’s drews cartoon crush!!! hehe she gets her shit plowed so good!!

pairing 𐙚 drew x angel!reader (younger!reader)

warnings 𐙚 sex. i kind of hate this but hopefully u will like it <3 drew calls reader bunny during sex oops 🧁

୨ ˚ 🧁 𓏲 ✿ ┈

you told drew he wasn’t allowed to know what your costume was until you personally showed him. you and him had a halloween party with his friends coming up soon so you figured now was the perfect time; a few days before the party.

“okay coming out.” you shouted from drew’s bathroom. you had nervous butterflies in your stomach, you wanted to impress drew, and even if you weren’t dressed as his cartoon crush; lola bunny, he still would have thought you looked perfect. a ketchup bottle costume would make him happy.

“let’s see it baby.” drew uncovered his eyes, which you told him he could do when you said you were ready. "you did some research huh?" drew giggled, getting up from his seat on the bed, admiring you as you spun around for him. of course taking good long peek at your ass, it looked so good in those white booty shorts you chose.

drew thought it was funny but also adorable how you’d managed to find out who his cartoon crush was, although it wasn’t hard to find. the amount of interviews you watched with drew was quite embarrassing and definitely one thing you’d never admit aloud to him.

"do you like it?" you batted your eyelashes while looking up at him. "do i like it?" drew pulled you closer to him. "i love it baby." he placed a gentle kiss on your lips. which turned into more than just a kiss, very quickly.

before you knew it drew was drilling into you from behind, telling you how nasty you were. that was, politely of course.

“you’re so nasty. you know?” drew’s grip on your hips tightened as you felt him hit deeper and harder inside of you. “i love it.”

“fuck, drew.” you mewled out. if you knew how turned on drew would get from a lola bunny costume you could have worn it ages ago.

“you look so pretty while getting fucked from behind.” drew huffed out, he was out of breath, which meant he was gonna cum soon. “even with that stupid bunny costume.”

“stupid?” you turned your head back to look at him, fully ready to start an argument while drew was literally pounding into you.

“you know what i meant bunny.”

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Hey could you write maybe more of dad carlos maybe drive to survive and little yn steals the show at 3 years old

Drive to Survive the Yn show

Carlos had known from the moment he opened his front door at the crack of dawn that this weekend was going to be a long one. The Drive to Survive crew stood outside, cameras already rolling, lights glaring, and all Carlos could do was stare at them with an unimpressed expression, arms crossed over his chest.

“Good morning, Carlos!” one of the producers greeted him cheerfully.

He sighed, stepping aside to let them in. “Is it?”

The crew laughed, mistaking his sarcasm for good humor. He shuffled towards the kitchen, rubbing his face as he tried to wake up properly. He was used to early mornings, but this? Being filmed first thing in the morning in his own house? This was excessive.

Carlos moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, grabbing eggs, bread, and fresh fruit while the cameras hovered around him. He knew how this worked—every word, every glance could be twisted into a narrative of Netflix’s choosing.

As he cracked eggs into a pan, soft footsteps signaled that Rebecca had woken up. His wife appeared in the doorway, still dressed in pajamas, hair a little messy from sleep. She paused at the sight of the cameras and gave Carlos a knowing look.

“Oh no,” she muttered, making her way over to him. “They caught you before coffee?”

Carlos huffed. “Sí. I think they planned it.”

The crew chuckled again, but Rebecca ignored them as she reached for a cup and poured herself coffee, sighing in satisfaction as she took her first sip. “Well, at least they get to see the real you.”

Carlos smirked. “Which version? Grumpy pre-coffee Carlos or amazing chef Carlos?”

“Both,” she teased, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before hopping onto the counter to watch him cook.

It wasn’t long before more footsteps echoed down the hallway. His parents had arrived. Reyes greeted the cameras with her usual warm smile, unfazed by their presence, while Carlos Sr. simply gave them a polite nod before making a beeline for the coffee machine.

And then, the real star of the morning made her appearance.

Rebecca turned her head as the sound of tiny, tired whimpers came from the staircase. “There she is,” she murmured, shifting off the counter to meet their daughter.

Little Yn, still half-asleep, clung to her mother’s shoulder, her curls a messy halo around her head. She buried her face in Rebecca’s neck, only peeking out when she realized something was different.

The cameras.

Carlos put down the spatula and walked over, effortlessly taking Yn into his arms. “Oh, mi amor, still sleepy?”

Yn made a tiny noise of agreement and nuzzled against his chest. Carlos instinctively cradled her closer, rubbing her back. “It’s okay, go back to sleep, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Rebecca looked at the Netflix crew and smirked. “I think you’ve lost your main character.”

She was right. The cameras were no longer focused on Carlos. They had all shifted to Yn, who was curled up against her father, completely unbothered by the world.

Carlos shook his head. “Figures.”

By the time they arrived at the circuit, Carlos had accepted his fate. This was no longer his documentary episode—this was Yn’s.

The moment their little family stepped out of the car, the fans erupted.

“CARLOS!”

“REBECCA!”

“YN!”

Carlos blinked. He turned to Rebecca, who raised an eyebrow. “She has fans now?”

Rebecca grinned. “Obviously. She’s adorable.”

Yn, meanwhile, was unbothered by the attention, happily munching on a strawberry as they made their way through the paddock. The cameras continued following them, but they seemed less interested in Carlos preparing for his home race and more in his three-year-old daughter discovering the world around her.

At one point, Yn gasped, dropping her strawberry. “¡Mariposa!”

Carlos followed her gaze to see a small yellow butterfly fluttering near the McLaren motorhome. Before he could react, Yn took off running.

Or at least, what counted as running for a three-year-old.

“Dios,” Carlos muttered, already following her. The cameras, of course, were rolling.

Yn giggled as she “chased” the butterfly, tiny legs moving as fast as they could. The butterfly barely even noticed her, lazily floating through the air as if playing a game with her.

“Papá, so fast!” Yn announced proudly.

Carlos snorted. “Yes, super fast, mi vida.”

He caught her just before she could stumble, lifting her into his arms. She giggled, still reaching for the butterfly.

Behind them, Charles appeared, laughing. “She’s faster than you in slow corners, mate.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “Not now, Charles.”

Charles grinned at Yn. “You remember Roscoe and Leo, right?”

Yn blinked up at him, thoughtful. “Sí.”

“Well, they remember you too,” Charles assured her.

Carlos snorted. “Charles, they are dogs.”

Charles ignored him. “Do you want to say hi next time I visit?”

Yn nodded excitedly. “Yes! Leo soft.”

“See? She gets it.” Charles ruffled her curls, earning another giggle before he walked off.

The Netflix cameras were still following, capturing every second.

Carlos sighed. “This is not about me anymore.”

Rebecca patted his back. “You’re just realizing that now?”

Between media duties, meetings, and race prep, Carlos kept an eye on his daughter. It was a habit at this point—he could be mid-conversation with his engineers, but a small movement from Yn in the corner of his vision would immediately catch his attention.

At one point, while Carlos, Rebecca, Reyes, and Carlos Sr. sat in the hospitality area drinking coffee, Yn curled up in her grandfather’s lap, yawning.

Carlos Sr. smiled, running a gentle hand through her hair. “She’s tired from all the excitement.”

Rebecca reached over, stroking Yn’s cheek. “It’s been a big morning.”

Yn’s eyelids drooped. “Sleepy,” she murmured.

“Then sleep, mi amor,” her grandfather whispered, adjusting his hold so she was more comfortable.

Yn didn’t need to be told twice. She was asleep within minutes.

Carlos shook his head, watching her. “She can sleep anywhere.”

Reyes smiled. “Like you when you were little.”

The cameras, of course, filmed the whole thing.

Later, Rebecca knelt beside Yn, applying sunscreen to her delicate skin.

Yn wrinkled her nose. “Cold!”

“I know, baby,” Rebecca soothed, rubbing it in.

Yn giggled as the cream was smoothed over her arms and cheeks. She wiggled but let her mother finish, laughing when Rebecca poked her tummy playfully.

Carlos sat beside them, shaking his head with a smile. “You think sunscreen is funny, mi amor?”

Yn nodded enthusiastically. “Tickles!”

The cameras caught the entire moment. Carlos wasn’t sure if Netflix had ever filmed something so far removed from the actual racing season.

By the time the race weekend ended, Carlos wasn’t even sure why Netflix had followed him at all.

They had hours of footage of Yn—running after butterflies, giggling while getting sunscreen, falling asleep in her grandfather’s arms. The clips of him were mostly just him being a protective dad, always watching over her.

On the last day, Carlos looked at the cameras and sighed. “Are you even making a show about Formula 1 anymore?”

One of the producers grinned. “We’re just following the most interesting story of the weekend.”

Carlos groaned.

Rebecca smirked. “Told you, cariño. You’re not the main character anymore.”

Yn, sitting happily in Carlos’ lap, clapped her hands. “Me!”

Carlos sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Yes, baby. You.”

And somehow, he didn’t mind at all.

(And when the episode finally aired, the title was: “Carlos Sainz: Family Man.” He never forgave Netflix for that.)

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Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-💙🦋