#Then it just.... Appeared when I got home??

[dazedantics]

Mark remembers being your husband.

Well, okay, he was never actually your husband.

But when you played house in the comfort of backyards and playgrounds, he never had an issue assuming that role in your game of make believe. Whatever it took to just to keep his friend.

You'd use whatever you had around as your "kids." New action figures, old dollies, spare blankets, the poor dog who wanted no part in being dressed up.

It wasn't Mark's thing, no. But he played along properly each time just to stay with you till the sun went down.

He'd fix the house, go to work, play hero with your kids, take you on pretend dates, he'd even pick you up and spin you around as a greeting for when he got home! Well, okay, maybe he wasn't quite strong enough to do that yet. But he certainly tried! Giggling when you two tipped over, talking about his supposed day at work.

He didn't stop you if you had an idea either.

You want to pretend you're going to the store? Sure thing, he'll push the basket. You stuff a ball under your shirt to pretend you got a baby in there? Okay, he'll do the chores while you sit 'n sew. You want to kiss him cause you just love your husband oh so much? Uhh ... well, maybe that's a bit ... oh, and now you're kissing him anyways. Super.

Admittedly, he didn't like that part at first, cooties and all, but his admonition went out the window as you huffed and started chasing him round and round until you landed a successful one on his lips.

He soon got used to it though, even puckering up before you had put your kids to sleep. He even found himself thinking about it when it was time for you two to hit the hay.

And even now as he got older.

When he sat there at his desk, spacing out. First wondering about what's for lunch, then the latest comic waiting for him at home, then you.

He hadn't seen you a long time. You probably forgot about him by now. Or maybe not? You two did spend a lot of time together and you seemed to have about as many other friends as he did (which wasn't a lot). But you guys were more grown up now, you'd probably repressed those memories, right?

Yeah, that seems more likely.

I mean, why worry about that one scrawny boy when you were probably surrounded by lots of hot guys now.

One who'd be your real husband someday. That you'd make play with your kids and cuddle up to and kiss over and over again.

Mmm ... for some reason Mark didn't like that thought. Nose scrunching up and brows furrowing.

You'd been his first kiss, you know. And probably his only one. That thought made him feel strange too. Though in a better way that turns bittersweet in the end.

Did you ever think about that?

How he could technically have been considered your first boyfriend?

Oh no, well now he hopes not. Cause if you did, you'd have to tell your current boyfriend, right? Then he'd want to come beat up the punk who knew his girl.

Mark rubbed his eyes, trying to get that out of his head. It'd suck if he'd made an another enemy he didn't even know existed. A guy could only take so much locker shoving, you know?

He sighed and looked up to the front of the class. He hadn't heard a word the teacher said and could only hope it wasn't important.

They guestured to the door.

A surprise principal meeting? Hadn't had one of those in a while. He should probably look at the other kids' desks to figure out what he should be pretending to do.

The door's opening.

Okay, no one has their notebooks so maybe he should- wait. Is that you!?

You were taller than back then, but he could recognize you from anywhere! He watched as your lips started moving, those lips that had countlessly kissed his. He blanked on what you were saying, but he heard your voice. The sound just made all those random specifics details of you appear in his mind all at once.

And he may have been making things up at this point, but he swears your eyes were on him the moment you walked in.

You remember him? Even if it is just a little vaguely? You don't know how high that'd make his heart rocket.

Did you maybe want to sit by him? He wouldn't mind. Maybe you couldn't play house anymore, but you could still do things as you used to right?

Or maybe he could work his way up to becoming your actual husband now?

That was why you were suddenly here, right? The fates decided you weren't done playing pretend. Was he cool enough to talk to you now? Could he even bring up what had technically happened between you?

Would you bring it up?

Or does he have to keep sitting here, reliving those tender moments till the rest of his days?

Please don't make it come to that.

Please ...

[23victoria]

just friends…right?

pairing: 𝒐𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓 𝒑𝒊𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

word count: 1.4𝒌

synopsis: 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔...𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕?

warnings: 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇, 𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒐𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔, 𝒄𝒖𝒕𝒆,

authors note: 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏. 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒕 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒕𝒚𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒐 𝒍𝒎𝒌 𝒊𝒇𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒊𝒕! 𝒊 𝒂𝒎 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒃 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕, 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒆! 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈! 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚!!!

𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕?! CLICK HERE!

✰ F1 MASTERLIST ✰

You’ve been to plenty of races, but there’s something about coming home to Melbourne that feels different. It’s the first race of the season, and the familiar skyline, the smell of eucalyptus trees in the breeze—it all reminds you of when you and Oscar were just awkward teenagers in boarding school, dreaming big.

Now? He’s living his dream. And you’re standing trackside with a Paddock Pass clipped to your belt loop, his spare McLaren jacket drowning your frame because you forgot your own.

“Hydrate,” you say, pushing a cold bottle of water into Oscar’s hand as he’s pulling off his helmet after FP1.

He takes it, and without thinking, leans forward to press his forehead against your shoulder for just a moment—just a breath of stillness. It’s instinct now, the way you wrap an arm around his waist without blinking.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he mumbles into your shirt. His voice is muffled, but it sends butterflies into full flight.

Lando walks past, smirking. “Y’know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two were secretly married.”

Oscar pulls away, rolling his eyes but grinning. “We’re not.”

You’re already used to this. Everyone assumes. How could they not? You’re always there—making sure he eats, making sure he sleeps, fixing his collar, hugging him before every quali.

You and Oscar in the same sentence always sounds like a love story.

And maybe… maybe you’re starting to wonder if everyone else knows something you don’t.

You’re pressed into a hug by Alexandra when Oscar appears at your side. He’s glowing—P3 today, his first podium of the season—and you beam as he walks up to you like you’re his finish line.

His hands immediately go to your waist like they always do when he lifts you up after a good result.

“I told you!” you shout over the noise. “P3! I called it this morning!”

Oscar spins you around like you weigh nothing and then sets you down, too close, forehead nearly touching yours. “You’re officially good luck,” he grins.

Ollie's nearby with Kimi, the two of them laughing as they watch the interaction unfold.

“Just friends, right?” Kimi teases, nudging Ollie who tries to look innocent.

“Very convincing,” Ollie snorts. “If my best friend looked at me like that, I’d be questioning everything.”

You shoot them a glare, cheeks hot, but Oscar doesn’t even look flustered. He just shakes his head with a tiny smirk.

“You guys are unbelievable,” he mutters under his breath.

But you see the way he’s still holding your hand.

It’s pouring rain. The race is delayed. You’re wrapped in Oscar’s spare hoodie because your suitcase got lost in transit, and you’re curled up in a hospitality room on the floor, your legs over his lap as he scrolls through his phone.

Outside, the track is flooded. Inside, it’s warm. Safe.

He taps on a post and shows you.

It’s a fan edit. Of you and him.

Clips from the paddock, your hugs, the way he looks at you when you’re not watching, a slow-motion shot of him tucking your hair behind your ear.

“‘Just friends’ my ass,” the caption reads.

“Oh my god,” you groan, burying your face in a pillow.

Oscar just chuckles, low and fond. “They have better footage of us than F1TV.”

You peek up at him, suspicious. “You’re not embarrassed?”

He shrugs. “Nah. It’s kind of flattering.”

“Kind of?” you tease.

Oscar looks down at your legs draped across his and then gently squeezes your ankle. “I mean, I don’t blame them.”

Your breath hitches.

He doesn’t elaborate.

You’re wearing that black silk dress he once said made you look “dangerous.” You’ve forgotten about the comment—until you catch Oscar staring across the dinner table a little too long.

“So,” Lando says, raising a glass, “how long have you two been secretly dating?”

You sigh.

“For the hundredth time,” you say patiently, “we are not dating.”

“That’s what all secretly dating people say,” Charles jokes, grinning into his wine.

Even Max leans back with a raised brow. “You spend every weekend together, wear his clothes, and you call each other before every quali. But sure. Best friends.”

Ollie raises a hand. “I’d just like to point out she kissed his helmet before Quali in Hungary last year. You’re telling me that’s not love?”

“It’s tradition,” you protest.

“Your face was red for an hour,” Kimi deadpans.

Oscar laughs, shaking his head. “You’re all insane.”

But his voice is too fond. Like he doesn’t actually hate the teasing.

And his hand brushes yours under the table for a second too long to be accidental.

It’s scorching, and Oscar’s nearly melting in his race suit. You show up to his garage with a small handheld fan and his favorite electrolyte drink, holding them up like a peace offering.

“You’re going to owe me foot rubs for this.”

He chuckles. “Foot rubs?”

“I’ve walked, like, four kilometers today.”

Oscar takes the drink and the fan, then grabs your wrist and pulls you toward the garage. “Come sit down. You look like you’re about to faint.”

“I’m fine.”

“Y/N.”

He gives you that look—the one he only reserves for you. Stern, sweet, worried.

So you sit, and his hand doesn’t leave yours for at least ten minutes.

When Andrea, his engineer, comes by, he raises a brow. “You’re attached at the hip. One day I’m going to find you two fused together.”

Oscar rolls his eyes. “We’re just friends, mate.”

“Right,” Andrea replies dryly. “And I’m Batman.”

You can’t sleep.

The hotel room next to yours is Oscar’s. You knock lightly, and he opens it almost immediately, like he was waiting for you.

“Can’t sleep,” you whisper.

He nods, steps aside.

You both lie on his bed in the dark, facing the ceiling. Eventually, you roll to your side to look at him. “Do you ever think about how long it’s been?”

He turns to you, brows raised. “What?”

“Us. Being like this.”

Oscar’s quiet for a moment. “Since we were thirteen, yeah?”

“Boarding school. The cracked dorm windows. You stealing my notes.”

“Hey, you stole my snacks.”

You laugh quietly, and he’s watching you now, really watching.

“You were always there,” you murmur. “Every big moment of my life, you’ve been there.”

Oscar nods. “Same.”

The silence is thick. Heavy.

“You ever think about what that means?” you whisper.

He blinks slowly. “All the time.”

It’s raining again. Because of course it is.

You’re in the back of the garage, watching the screen, heart in your throat. Oscar’s fighting for P2. You’re squeezing a McLaren stress ball so hard your fingers hurt.

When he crosses the line in second, you scream. Literally. Everyone around you cheers, but you run.

You’re there before he even pulls off his gloves. You wait until he’s past media, past team debrief, and then you throw yourself into his arms, nearly knocking him off balance.

“You were incredible,” you whisper, voice breaking with pride.

He holds you tighter than he ever has before.

“You always believe in me,” he says quietly.

“I always will.”

And when you pull back, his hand finds your jaw like it’s second nature. His eyes flick down to your lips before returning to your eyes.

Neither of you says it. But you both know.

It’s late. Everyone’s left dinner. You and Oscar are walking towards his car.

You’re laughing about something—the memory of some dumb joke that Ollie and Lando were bickering over dinner—when Oscar suddenly stops walking, going quiet.

You look at him. “What?”

He swallows. “Do you ever wonder what would happen if we stopped saying we were just friends?”

Your breath catches.

“What if we stopped pretending?” he continues, voice low. “What if we just… told them they were right?”

You stare at him. “Oscar…”

“Y/N. I’ve been in love with you since I was seventeen.”

The world stills.

And then, before you can panic or think or overanalyze—

You kiss him.

It’s soft, warming, familiar, and long overdue.

When you pull back, he’s grinning like an idiot.

“Took you long enough,” he whispers.

You smack his shoulder, giggling, with slight tears in your eyes. “Shut up.”

His fingers are laced with yours. And you don’t let go. You rest your head on his shoulder, looking up at him lovingly—like he’s the only thing in the world that makes sense.

✰༞𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!࿎✰@ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @Ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @Formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @winkev1 @strawblueberrys @Blakesbearblog @cel-b @perfumejamal @aykxz98 @pandora-08 @teti-menchon0604 @bxtosa @fadingcloudballoon @whatevenisthisxxxxx @anamiad00msday @luula @tellybearryyyy @exotic-iris13 @magixpracticality @eoduuung @eternoangel @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @flowerpetalk @oledoledoffen @jimcarreyfann42 @revolutionsingingintherain @acesbakery @oliviah-25 @matcha—-matcha @unkownmystery_22 @sophienorris18-blog @armystay89 @paucubarsisimp

[revelboo]

And when Brainstorms weird construction works, all humans get teleported back to the Lost Light, including Tarns. Now the crew has to explaining to a raging mass murderer that they in fact did not steal his human... even if it looks like it lol

Or Tarn gets a call from his human: hey yeah i got beamed around and am currently on the ship with your ex-boss and a lot of weirdos. Can you pick me up? thx!

This made me cackle when I read it.

MTMTE What if Angst Scenario Just Gone- Reunion

• “Would you leave the science to the scientists?” Brainstorm snarls, immediately regretting it when Ratchet’s servos wrap around a wrench. And Perceptor shoves between him and the medic, stripping and redoing his wiring to his frustration. “It was fine.” The other bot turning and staring at him, expression guarded. ‘Yes, if sloppy is fine,’ Perceptor murmurs. ‘Try it again.’

• Servos drumming restlessly against his arm, Rodimus can feel his plating heating even if the wide berth everyone else is giving him wasn’t a dead giveaway. And he’s never been all that religious, but if it’ll get you back? He’s tried Primus, but at this point, he’s tempted to try Unicron if it might help. “You’re melting the floor,” Megatron growls at him and he doesn’t know how the other mech is so calm when he’s losing it.

• Watching the thing arc to make the ship’s lights dim sharply, there’s a humming that prickles across Swerve’s biofield. And he’s frozen watching that mini gate throw tendrils of energy. And a human pops into existence, staggering and falling. And another. Three more. Moaning and miserable, hurting, but whole. They’re all coming back. And he’s lunging when you blip into existence, hands cupped to catch you as he dives for you, plating scraping the floor.

• You’re back, the bond flaring back through him as you appear, and Megatron’s servos tremble as he scoops you up, spark hurting when you start bawling. Doesn’t care that you’re not alone as he shifts his plating, bonding you. Needing that intimacy, to know you and his new spark are safe and it’s a relief to tangle in you, finding you and your sparkling safe. And he’s not the only one, sees several bots scooping their humans up. Bonding with them out of worry. Reassuring themselves after the stress and fear. Feels something shift and he’s shocked when you pass the spark to him, before curling into his palm. What just happened?

• “Did you just spark me?” Tailgate whispers, feeling Cyclonus twitch where he’d been holding you both while he renews his bond with you and checks on the twin sparks. Can feel them tangled in him not you and despite the surprise, he doesn’t care. You’re home. You’re okay.

• ‘Hey, we’ve got extras,’ Nautica calls out and Rodimus looks up at the little group of unclaimed humans. Tucking you against his neck, he frowns. Because he’s never seen this group before. And they don’t look nearly freaked out enough. Obviously familiar with Cybertronians. So these humans had ended up with other Cybertronians not on the Lost Light? “Who’s your bots?” He asks tiredly. And one of them looks up at him. ‘Where’s Tarn?’

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[viennakarma]

Mi Nena

Fernando Alonso x Reader (+ kids)

Summary: Your daughter Esmeralda and her Father have a disagreement over karting. Stubborn as they are, you have to let them sort themselves out alone.

Word count: 3.4k

Tags: Female reader, mom!Reader, dad!Fernando, established relationship, married couple, children, karting, small accident, soft hurt/comfort, mostly fluff, godfather!Carlos Sainz, not beta read

Note: Don't even ask me how this came to be, just on my Father Fernando Alonso Agenda (again). Just a bite sized little thingy. Let me know your thoughts!!! Feedback and comments are appreciated.

Find me on Twitter!

You watched as Fernando carried Esmeralda on his back, her hold on him tight as he carried the bags to the car. It was one of those days that Fernando had to go to his karting track, and you, Esmeralda and Miguel would accompany him.

As Fernando drove away, Esmeralda was in the backseat, reading over some papers in her lap, while Miguel, at almost 2, was dozing off in his toddler seat, clutching his little plushie.

“What are you doing over there, Esme?” You asked, turning around in the passenger seat while Fernando drove.

“Just going over some lap times of the track,” She mumbled, appearing focused on her papers. You turned to Fernando, who was biting back a grin.

Esmeralda had first shown interest in karting at age 4, and now, almost 12, she was just as obsessed as she was back then. She started in a small karting track at home that Fernando had built as a hobby for whenever he had friends over, or just wanted to kart as relaxing time. After his daughter asked him to kart too, he gifted her an age appropriate go-kart. Fernando had been over the moon about his eldest kid wanting to follow his steps, even if he tried to not be too excited, since it could be a temporary interest as kids are usually prone to.

But still, eight years had gone by and Esmeralda was still focused as ever in karting. She had gone through small karting competitions, and now, she was getting ready for the next season of karting competitions.

As you all arrived at the track, Esmeralda hopped off the car, while Fernando unlatched Miguel from his seat, the little boy stirring awake. Hand in hand with his kids, Fernando walked into the main building. He went to his meeting, Esmeralda went to pick a kart and get ready to race, and you went to give Miguel a little snack, sitting outside as you watched the track from the balcony.

The track was relatively empty, with few children karting alongside your daughter. You watched, sometimes shouting for her to slow down, but he didn’t hear or pretend not to. After a couple of hours, Esmeralda stopped karting to make a lunch break, and you, her, Fernando and sleeping Miguel sat together on a table.

“Papá, will you be busy after lunch?” She asked, with big eyes and even bigger hope, and Fernando, who would do anything for her, including rescheduling his meetings to a better time, shook his head.

“Never busy for you, Princesa,” He muttered.

“Will you time a few of my laps to see if I can make it faster? Please?” She pouted, and Fernando smiled, reaching over to rub her head and mess her hair.

Esmeralda had unapologetically chopped her own hair a few months back to shoulder length because she'd say it got in the way of her sports and it was annoying under the helmet. With this hair she looked even more like her dad when he was younger, first entering the world of F1.

“Sure I can, Princess,” Fernando muttered, finishing his meal.

Later as you had Miguel in the stroller, lulled by the sound of his sister’s swooshing kart. You stood beside Fernando by the starting line, watching Esmeralda’s lap time markings, her father holding a timer device.

“What was her lap time before you started?” You asked Fernando.

“2:13:47,” Fernando replied.

Finishing the first three tries, Esmeralda had reduced her times to 2:12:39, which according to Fernando was a good improvement at first. After a few more laps with very little improvement, you could see your daughter was getting frustrated.

“Papá,” She paused, stepping out of the kart and marching towards the two of you, “where can I win time?”

“You’re doing great, Princess. You probably need to adjust more to the kart, and you’re still a little out of the racing line. Can you adjust that?”

Esmeralda nodded and returned to the kart to keep trying. Adjusting the racing line, she got a couple more seconds. But after reaching a shorter time, she stuck there.

“I’m stuck in the 2:10’s, ain’t I?” She stepped out of the kart, to look into the chart her dad was taking notes of the laps. Fernando knew that the track record was 2:02:36 because it was his own, “I need to get to at least 2:05,” she said.

“That’s…” Fernando paused, searching for the right word, “... ambitious.”

“I can do it, Papá,” Esmeralda muttered, slightly offended.

“I know you can, but-” Fernando started, but she cut him off.

“What can I do to make my time better?” There was a little tense silence and you knew Fernando was trying not to be upset with her tone.

“Try braking a little later in the turns,” you cut the tense silence. Fernando looked at you as if you had slapped him.

“You don’t-”

“¡Gracias, Mamá!” Esme smiled, rushing back to the kart and starting again.

“Why did you do that?!” Fernando asked you as she drove off.

“I’m no professional but I know she’ll win a lot of time braking later…” You shrugged. Your experience came from years and years of dating and being married to Fernando, but you did know a little bit here and there. And being an engineer, you knew your physics.

“But it’s dangerous!”

“She’s a tough girl,” You replied, narrowing your eyes at him.

“You don’t even know a thing about racing!” Fernando snapped. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Fine, let me take my uninformed ass away from you, then,” You said with clenched jaw, pushing the stroller and the sleepy Miguel away from the track and towards a sitting area nearby.

A few more hours went by as you worked some on your laptop and took Miguel around, all while Esmeralda was still reducing her lap time. She’d do a few laps, then go back to Fernando, then back to the kart to try again back and forth.

At some point, she left the kart looking upset, she pulled her helmet off and walked straight past Fernando towards you. You stared at the scene confused, and as Esme came towards you with messy hair and watery eyes.

“What happened, Esme?” You met her in the middle and gently brushed her hair back.

“I wanna go home…” She said, her voice trembling.

“Do you want to talk about it, love?” You asked her and she shook her head.

The drive home was quiet, well, mostly quietly, considering Miguel babbling in the backseat. As you got home, dinner was served by the home staff.

“Mamá, can I skip dinner?” Esme asked after the food was served.

“Love, you were go-karting the whole day. I think it’s healthier to eat something.” You said patiently, your eyes navigating between Esme and Fernando.

Esme mumbled but started eating anyway. After dinner, the kids showered and got ready for bed. Miguel still had an hour of play time, which he usually would use to make drawings, and Esme had two hours before bedtime. After putting Miguel to sleep you went to check on Esme. She was watching old races from Formula 1 on her iPad. As you knocked on the door and entered, she sighed.

“I know… No screens an hour before sleep.” She muttered, closing the iPad and putting it on the nightstand.

“How are you doing, Esme?” You sat down beside her on the bed, both of you with your backs against the headboard.

“A little upset.”

“I could tell. Do you want to talk about it? Or maybe talk to your dad about it?” You gently nudged the conversation.

“Maybe tomorrow?” Esme conceded with a reluctant sigh.

“Okay, baby. Just don’t keep any bad feelings too long in your heart.”

“Mom! I’m not a baby-” She huffed, rolling her eyes.

“You’re always going to be my baby, Esme!” You laughed, hugging her, placing kisses on her head until she was trying to squirm away, “do you want me to read you something?”

“Mom!” She squealed.

“Fine, fine… You’re not a baby, I know…” You jokingly rolled your eyes and got up, “Let me know if you need anything, okay? Sweet dreams.”

“You too, Mamá.”

As you returned to the master bedroom, Fernando was sitting by your vanity, removing his watch and looking in the distance, lost in thought.

“So… what happened? Why did Esme get upset with you?” You crossed your arms leaning your back against the closed door.

“I don’t know.”

“So you didn’t snap at her like you snapped at me at the track?” You asked with narrowed eyes.

“No, I-” Fernando stood up, walking towards you, he reached for your hands, “I’m sorry I snapped at you. It was rude and unnecessary when you were just trying to help,” He placed a gentle kiss on the back of your hands, “Will you forgive me?”

“I forgive you, Nano. If you tell me what the hell is going on with you.” You said, despite the harsh words, your voice was gentle.

“It’s just… It’s dangerous. Karting can be dangerous.” Fernando exhaled, “And I worry for her. I don’t want her to get hurt, or suffer any kind of track accidents.”

“Oh, Fernando,” You finally understood, his worry, his nervousness, the fear that he never had for himself in any kind of racing track. You pulled him closer and wrapped your arms around his neck, playing with the hair on the back of his head, “I get it.”

“And I had this nightmare… Remember that crash I had in Australia?” He asked, his accent thicker every time he was upset, and you nodded, “I had a nightmare it was Esme and I just… I just freaked out, I guess.”

“It’s fine, Fernando, I understand. You’re feeling what I felt my whole relationship with you. It takes some getting used to it. But she’s tough, she’s brave and most of all, she understands the danger. I know you think she can be a little reckless at times, wonder who she got that from,” you scoffed playfully, “but you have to trust Esme a bit more.”

“She’s just a child…” Fernando closed his eyes.

“And so were you once. She’s just as fierce as you were as a child.” You said, and pulled him closer, kissing his neck softly, “Let her earn her stripes. If she stumbles, or makes mistakes, we’ll be there to catch her.”

“Yes, you’re right as always, mi amor. We’ll catch her.” Fernando whispered, eyes closed as he hugged you back, “Did she say anything?”

“She said she’ll talk tomorrow. Let her cool down.”

In the morning, you and the kids had breakfast while Fernando spent a couple of hours in the study having some work calls and meetings. The doorbell rang and as you went to check the cameras, Carlos was there. You allowed his entry, and went to open the door.

“Good morning,” he greeted you with a brief hug. Carlos had been your friend for even longer than you had been with Fernando, and he was the one that first introduced you two.

“Good morning. Not to be rude or anything, but… Did something happen?” You asked, inviting him inside.

“I came to get my goddaughter to spend the day,” He said, shrugging as he went to the coffee pot to pour himself some.

“Oh, she… she and Miguel had plans to go to their grandparents’ for a sleepover…” You said.

“Well, she asked me to come,” Carlos frowned, “What is hap-”

“She’s upset with Fernando. She hasn’t spoken about it yet, and I was hoping she would open up eventually.”

“Hey, will you let me take her today? Maybe I can get her to talk.” Carlos suggested.

You sighed, because deep down you knew she had Carlos as not only her godfather, but also as a trusted uncle, a fun uncle with whom she had definitely opened up before. So you just nodded.

“Will you bring her back before dinner time?” You reluctantly said.

“Will do.”

After that, you went into her room to ask her to pack a bag to spend the day with Carlos, and you packed them a couple of snacks. As they were leaving, you started saying a few warnings for them.

“Eat the snacks, you two,” You handed her the bag, “There are a few juice boxes too,” You said as Esme and Carlos started making it to the door, “Carlos, remind her to drink water okay?”

“Relax! I’ve been her godfather for twelve years. We’ll be okay.”

After she left, you went to check on Miguel, to see if he had used the potty correctly or if he’d need a new shower. He did need a new shower. Then you took him to do some groceries with you while Fernando was still working.

When you arrived with Miguel from the grocery store and started putting everything away, Fernando came out of his study, he pecked your cheek and picked up Miguel.

“Where’s Esmeralda? Is she ready to have a talk yet?”

“She left with Carlos.”

“What? Why?” Fernando said, slightly offended.

“She probably wanted to vent to another adult instead of you and I. Let her come around.”

“This is not right,” Fernando reached for his phone, checking something for a couple of minutes, “Ah-ah, they’re at the karting track again.”

“Fernando, let them-”

But before you could finish Fernando was grabbing a backpack and the car keys. With an annoyed sigh, you followed him and packed things for Miguel, both of you getting in the car with him. You did not say anything as Fernando drove off.

When you arrived at the track, Carlos was tracking Esme lap times just like Fernando had been doing the day before. With Miguel on your hip, you followed Fernando to the trackside as he went there looking even more upset than he did before. He waited for her to finish a lap and slow down to a stop.

“¡Esmeralda, ven aquí ahora!” He called her over, shouting angrily. You and Carlos watched with wide eyes at his yell, and even more when Esme stomped out of the car, removed her helmet, and went towards her father with that defiant glint in her eyes, like she was about to argue with him head on, “What did I tell you about karting today?!”

“That you wouldn’t bring me to kart today! So I asked Tío Carlos! You didn’t say I could not come, you said you would not bring me!” She argued back.

“Don’t shout at me, niña!”

“Why not?!” Esme kept shouting, you handed Miguel to Carlos and were about to intervene when her next words made you pause abruptly, “everyone knows you don’t like to coach me because I’m a girl!”

There was a moment of silence, like Fernando couldn’t believe what he heard, and neither could you. You froze for a moment and even your mom instincts were all over the place. As you looked at Fernando, he was looking at Esme with hurt in his eyes, like she had punched him painfully in the chest.

“Esme,” He exhaled, the fight evaporated from his eyes, “Is that what you think?”

“Is that not what you think?” She asked, her voice had also gone soft, her eyes watering and chin quivering as she was fighting tears, “You never let me race fast, and you never teach me how to be faster, even though you know how to. It’s because I’m a girl. I’ve seen you coach Gabriel, and- and- many other of the boys and you always let them give their best. But never me!” Finally her tears fell down her cheeks and she looked down, her messy hair covering her face as she sobbed like a baby.

“No, no- Princesa…” Fernando walked towards her, pulling her towards a bench, where he sat so he could face her on same height, he held her shoulders, “I don’t let you race faster not because you’re a girl. It’s because you’re my daughter. It’s not that I think you’re not good enough or you can not be good enough. It’s because I worry for you. I’m so, so scared, Esme… I’ve never felt this scared when I raced myself, but now I do. There are things that are dangerous and you don’t understand how terrified of losing you that makes me.”

Esme stopped sobbing as Fernando held her chin and raised her head from looking down. He gently wiped his tear streaked cheeks, his own expression growing emotional.

“Girls are fast too. For your age, you’re very fast now. And, yes, you probably can go even faster, but… I’m scared you won’t know what to do or worse- that you could suffer some kind of accident-”

“Then teach me, Papá…” Esme whispered, “You’re the best I know. You can teach me, you can coach me. ¿Por favor?”

Fernando sniffed, refusing to cry as he nodded.

“Okay, okay… I’ll let you take more risks. But you promise you’ll do what I say? We’ll try faster but less reckless, alright?”

Esme nodded, hugging her dad, sniffing as she hid against his neck and he hugged her back, arms wrapped around her and pulling her to his lap.

“I’m so sorry I made you think that…” Fernando muttered and then his voice went softer as he whispered in her ear, probably more reassurances and praises as she nodded slowly.

With Miguel still gurgling and babbling on his hip, Carlos bowed, which made Miguel laugh.

“And scene!” Carlos whispered to you, “my work here is done.”

Carlos handed you Miguel back, reaching for Esme’s backpack to steal a couple of snacks.

“Let me know when they butt heads again,” Carlos mumbled.

“Hey!”

“What? Don’t pretend like they aren’t identical. Even the hard-headed part…” Carlos snorted, kissing Miguel’s head and waving goodbye, not wanting to interrupt the father-daughter moment.

You watched Fernando and Esme from afar for a few minutes until they both agreed with something and stood up. Fernando grabbed the timer and the notepad Carlos had left there and Esme went back to the kart, putting on her helmet and getting into it. She started driving again and Fernando timed her lap. He’d stop her and lean over her kart to tell her a few tips and things she could do to improve and she’d get better and better.

And then, at some point, she crossed the finish line and Fernando shouted, fist in the air as he celebrated.

“She made it!” He told you with a bright smile.

“2:05?” You asked.

“2:05:26”

You two celebrated with Esme as she hopped out of the kart, doing a little celebratory dance, giggling and hugging you, Fernando and Miguel.

“How about we try for the track record now?” Esme asked, looking at Fernando.

“We gotta get home for dinner. Leave it for another day.” You said with a sigh. Both Fernando and Esme looked at you with big pleading eyes, “Twenty more minutes. Then we’re leaving.”

“Yay! Gracias, Mamá!”

You were walking around close to the track with Miguel when suddenly, you heard Fernando curse. You looked just in time to see Esme’s kart going past the turn and straight against the barriers. Your heart dropped and Fernando took off running towards her.

Before you could genuinely panic, Esmeralda raised her small hand in the air and made a small thumb’s up to show she was fine. Which wasn’t enough for Fernando, who helped her out of the kart and blindly felt her limbs, asking her to breathe, to see how many fingers he was holding up, desperately trying to see if she had hurt herself.

“Papá, I’m fine!” She laughed, removing the helmet and taking his hand to walk back the rest of the way, “I’m really hungry now, can we go?”

She took his hand and practically dragged a dumbfounded Fernando towards you and the baby.

As you drove home, Esme rapidly talked about the day, about how she improved her lap time, with Miguel babbling back to her excitedly as if he knew whatever his big sister was talking about. With one hand on the steering wheel, you reached over and took Fernando’s hand.

“Are you okay?”

“I think I need to see a cardiologist…” He said with a sigh.

“You sure do, viejo.”

“This girl will give me a heart attack before I reach fifty.”

“Now you know what it is like watching an Alonso racing.”

“Thank god you love us,” He laughed, kissing your hand.

[mintyys-blog]

Hi can I please request Main mark having to deal with different variants of reader?🥀🥀

HEADCANON | main mark meeting different variants of Y/N

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST 2 | WARNINGS: swearings, sexual themes, implied abuse, pregnancy, mention of toxic relationships.

SINISTER MARKS UNIVERSE

The light is harsh overhead. Clinical. She’s backed into the farthest corner of the room, fingers white-knuckling the wall like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. Her breath is shallow—sharp, broken pulls of air that barely fill her lungs.

And then he walks in.

Just his silhouette in the doorway is enough to shatter her composure. Her eyes widen. Her knees give out. The sound she makes—it’s not a scream, not yet. It’s a choked, horrified sob. Like she’s seeing a ghost she never wanted to remember. “Don’t come near me.” Mark freezes. “Whoa, hey. Hey—wait, it’s okay. I’m not—”

A lamp flies across the room and shatters at his feet. She’s screaming now. Screaming at him. Screaming like she’s reliving it. Her wrists flinch with every breath.. “You can’t lie to me again!” she croaks. “You can’t pretend to be nice anymore.”

Mark doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink. His throat tightens. “I’m not… I’m not him,” he says softly. “I don’t know what he did to you, but—”

“You know.” she spits. “You know what you did. You made me love you. And then you broke me.”

Mark sinks to his knees slowly, deliberately. Hands up. Palms empty. “I swear, I don’t know what he did. But I’m not that Mark. I’ve never met you before.”

She’s trembling. Her hands are shaking so violently she can’t even wipe her tears away. There’s blood on her knuckles—fresh, bitten open in a panic. “You lied like this before,” she murmurs. “Said you were different. Said I was safe. And then you locked me in that room again. You smiled while I begged.”

Mark swallows. His mouth is dry. He wants to say something. That she’s safe. That she’ll never be hurt again. But what if saying it only makes her panic worse? So he doesn’t say that. “Tell me what you need,” he says instead. Voice level. Soft. “You don’t have to trust me. You don’t even have to look at me. But I want to help.”

She hesitates. Chest still rising and falling in ragged bursts. Her lips quiver. “I want… I want to go home,” she whispers.

Mark’s face twists. “I don’t think you have a home there anymore,” he says gently. “Not if he’s still waiting for you.”

That’s what shatters her. She collapses. Not into his arms—but away from the wall, curling into herself like a wounded animal. Silent sobs quake her shoulders.

Mark doesn’t touch her. He just stays there. Kneeling. Watching. Letting her cry without pressure or pity. And when she finally speaks again—voice threadbare, cheeks soaked—she doesn’t ask who he is. She just whispers, “Please… don’t let him find me.” Mark’s heart breaks. “He won’t,” he says. “Not while I’m breathing.”

MOHAWK MARKS Y/N

He hears her heels before she appears.

Sharp, teasing clacks echoing down the hallway like warning shots before a hurricane. When she steps into the room, it’s all silk and sin—lips painted crimson, jacket shrugged over her shoulders like she’s barely trying. Her lashes are long, curled, and calculated. Her walk is a performance.

“Well, well, well…” she purrs. “You’re early. Or desperate. Which is it today?”

Main Mark stands abruptly, confused and stunned. “Who are you?”

She lets out a breathy little laugh���soft and dangerous. “You’ve got jokes today. Cute.”

She saunters up to him, rolling her hips with every step. Her fingers trail down his chest like she’s rehearsed it a hundred times.

“Didn’t think we were doing the ‘stranger’ thing again.” She smirks, tipping her head. “Is this part of the game? Should I be scared this time? Beg a little more?”

Mark gently takes her wrists and steps back. “I think there’s been a mistake. I’m not your Mark.”

Her smile only widens. Her eyes darken with something amused—something cracked.

“Oh. Ohhh. You’re really committing to it this time.” She traces a fingertip over her collarbone, breath hitching theatrically. “New character. New vibe. You gonna tie me up again too, or just fuck with my head first?”

Mark’s stomach turns.

“No—listen to me. I’m not him. I’m from a different universe. I don’t know what he did to you—”

“He paid me,” she snaps, eyes gleaming. “Took care of me. Let me live like a queen. And yeah, sometimes he’d play these little games—pretend he didn’t know me, act like I was just some random bitch he picked up. Is that what this is?”

Mark shakes his head, horrified. “This isn’t a game. You don’t belong here.” She goes still. Then—slowly, sensually—she takes off her jacket. Lets it slide from her shoulders like a lover’s sigh. “Then make me want to stay.”

Mark steps back like she slapped him. “No. I’m not going to use you.” Her lip curls, almost hurt. “That’s a new twist.”

“You don’t have to do this,” he says, voice cracking. “You deserve more than being someone’s property.” Her hands fall to her sides.

She looks… confused. Like she’s waiting for the real Mark to cut in, laugh, reveal the punchline. But it doesn’t come. “You really mean it, don’t you?” He nods. She pushes his chest, “if this is your way of being romantic. It sucks.” She crosses her arms, he sighs in defeat.

PRISONER MARK

She’s mid-step into the room when she sees him—and the world stops. For a second, she can’t breathe. Can’t move. Her bag slips off her shoulder and hits the floor with a dull thud. Her eyes are locked on him, and her mouth opens in disbelief.

“Mark…?” Mark turns at the sound of her voice—and the pain that flickers across her face when she sees him fully nearly knocks the wind out of him.

She looks like she hasn’t slept in weeks. There are rings under her eyes and callouses on her hands. Her lips tremble. “Is it really you?” He takes a step forward, and she runs. Straight into his arms.

She collides with him so hard it knocks him back a step, and she wraps her arms around his neck like she’s terrified he’ll vanish if she lets go. She’s sobbing—ugly crying—muffled against his shoulder. “They told me you were dead,” she chokes out. “That they lost your body. I looked for you—I swear to god, I looked every day—”

He hugs her on instinct, arms strong and warm around her, but his face is twisted in guilt. Because he’s not her Mark. “I’m not—” he starts, but her hands cup his face and pull him down into a desperate, trembling kiss.

It’s not seductive. It’s grief. Raw. Hollow. Like she’s been bleeding out in silence for months and finally found a pulse. When she pulls away, her forehead rests against his. “Tell me it’s over,” she whispers. “Tell me you’re done running. That we can go home.” Mark doesn’t know what to say.

“Y/N…” he murmurs. “I’m not the Mark you lost.” She stills. Her breath catches in her throat.

“Don’t,” she whispers. “I’m from another universe. Your Mark… I think he died in prison or at least is still there. I’m sorry.”

Her knees buckle. He catches her before she hits the ground, and she shoves at his chest—not to hurt him, just to do something with the storm inside her. “No. No, I felt you—you’re here. This is you, I know it is. You smell like him. You sound like him. You’re lying.”

“I wish I was,” he says gently. She looks up at him, broken. “But you held me like him,” she says, voice barely audible. “You kissed me like him.”

“Because if I were him, I’d never let you go.” That’s what makes her cry again. Not the sobs from before—these are quieter. Deep. Wounded.

“I waited for you,” she whispers. “I kept your side of the bed clean. I cooked dinner. I… I kept hoping.” Mark just holds her. Doesn’t say anything. Eventually, her hands slide into his shirt and she presses her cheek against his chest.

SHIESTY MARKS Y/N

Mark barely has time to speak before she turns her head and narrows her eyes at him.

She doesn’t glare—she examines, cool and calculating, like she’s deciding if he’s real or another hallucination brought on by the stress of waiting too long for him to come home.

“You look like him,” she says quietly. “But you’re not him.”

She’s dressed in designer sweats and gold jewelry that isn’t gaudy—just well-chosen, elegant. Her nails are glassy and perfect, her makeup done like she’s never had a day off from being someone important’s girl. There’s no smile. No warmth. She crosses her arms and leans against the doorframe like she’s trying not to be disappointed.

“Where is he?”

“I’m not your Mark,” Main Mark says softly. “I’m from another universe. I—”

“Stop.” Her voice is sharp, not cruel. “If this is some cruel twist on one of his games, it’s not funny.”

He steps forward carefully. “It’s not a game.”

She pauses. Her eyes flick down his frame again. She notices the posture. The tension. The softness he’s trying to bring into the room.

“He wouldn’t come home like this,” she says, almost to herself. “He doesn’t apologize. Doesn’t explain. He just walks in, throws a black card on the table, and holds me until I forget why I was mad.”

Mark swallows hard. “Does he… hurt you?” She looks at him then. Really looks. And for a moment, something flashes behind her eyes—something tired.

“No. Never laid a hand on me,” she murmurs. “But he hurts for me. Every time someone talks slick. Every time someone threatens me. He comes back with blood on his boots and doesn’t even try to hide it.”

She lets out a breath and steps forward, almost absentmindedly brushing a crease off Mark’s shirt. “He’s the reason I feel safe. That’s how fucked up it is.” Mark’s chest aches. “You don’t have to live like that. With fear, or expectation, or—”

“Luxury?” she cuts in, a faint smirk twitching at her lip. “You think I’m scared of money and protection?”

He doesn’t reply. She sighs and looks off to the side. “It’s not the gold I’m addicted to. It’s the loyalty. The fact that I say the word and he acts—no questions, no hesitation.”

“You think that’s love?” he asks softly. She’s quite a long moment. Then, gently: “I think it’s the closest I’ve ever come to it.”

OMNI MARKS Y/N

She finds him in the hallway.

The light overhead flickers, casting sharp shadows across Main Mark’s face as he turns, confused by the sudden sound of bare feet padding across tile.

Then—she’s in his arms.

Without hesitation, she throws herself into him, arms locking tight around his torso like she’s afraid he’ll vanish. There’s no warning, no words. Just the desperate strength of someone who’s spent too long hugging a statue.

He freezes at first.

Then—awkwardly—he brings his arms up and returns the embrace. Hesitant. Stiff. But real.

She stills.

Her fingers dig gently into the back of his shirt, like she’s grounding herself.

“You…” she starts, then pulls back just enough to look at him, her voice cracking with disbelief. “You hugged me back.”

Her eyes are wide. A flicker of hope dances behind the exhaustion.

“You never hug me back,” she says quietly. “Does this mean you finally love me?”

Main Mark’s breath catches in his throat.

Her voice isn’t accusing. It isn’t bitter. It’s hopeful.

Like a starving person asking if the scraps might turn into a meal.

He stares down at her—this version of Y/N who’s been touched, but never held. Kissed, but never cherished. Wanted, but never loved.

“I’m not him,” he says softly.

Her expression falters, confused.

“What…?”

“I’m not your Mark,” he explains. “I’m from another universe.”

Her face crumples, and for a moment—he sees something in her eyes shatter.

But she doesn’t cry. She just nods, stepping back, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Of course,” she whispers. “Of course you’re not.”

She tries to smile. It doesn’t work.

“He wouldn’t have come back at all.”

Mark takes a step forward, but she flinches—not in fear. In shame. In heartbreak.

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I shouldn’t have—I just thought maybe… if I was good long enough… maybe one day he’d feel it. Something. Anything.”

She laughs softly, bitterly.

“Turns out even a fake version of him is kinder than the real thing.”

Main Mark gently reaches for her wrist—slow, patient.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says. “You just… learned to survive love in a place where it didn’t exist.”

She doesn’t look at him. But her lip trembles. “Is it really love,” she whispers, “if it’s only real when I close my eyes?”

VILTRUMITE MARKS Y/N

The moment she senses him nearby, her spine straightens.

She’s in the kitchen, clutching a half-washed plate, her movements frozen mid-rinse. The sound of the front door opening—silent to most—reaches her like a gunshot. She sets the plate down carefully. Deliberately. Like one wrong move might draw blood.

He’s home.

When Main Mark enters, she’s already standing in the doorway, hands folded in front of her growing belly, face pale but composed. Her breath catches in her throat the second she sees him.

“You’re… early.”

Her voice is soft. Practiced.

Main Mark opens his mouth to explain—but then sees it. The fear.

It’s not overt. It’s not cowering. It’s worse. It’s controlled.

Her fear is something she’s used to.

He notices the way she doesn’t meet his eyes for too long. How she keeps her hands still, her body small. How she flinches when he steps forward—even slightly.

“Y/N,” he says gently. “I’m not him. I’m not your Mark.”

That makes her blink. She lifts her gaze a fraction, confusion settling in.

“What…?”

“I’m from another universe,” he says, keeping his voice low. Calming. “I don’t know what your Mark has done, but… I would never hurt you.”

She doesn’t speak for a long moment.

Then—just barely audible: “He’s never hurt me.”

Mark frowns. “But you’re scared of him.” She swallows. Her eyes dart to the hallway, as if expecting him to walk in behind Mark at any moment. “He’s… never been cruel. He provides. He protects.” She pauses, fingers brushing the curve of her stomach. “But when he looks at me, it’s like he’s watching a… a duty. A vessel. Not a person.” The words hang in the air like frost.

Main Mark’s jaw clenches. “You’re carrying his child,” he says. “He should be making you feel safe. Not smaller.”

Her voice cracks. “He makes me feel important. Like what I’m doing matters. But love?” She shakes her head. “I don’t know if he even knows what that is anymore.”

She steps back when Mark moves closer, but he stops—hands raised. Respectful. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. Or of him. Not right now. You’re safe.”

She studies him carefully. The way he stands. The warmth in his voice. How he doesn’t reach out, doesn’t pressure her. “You look like him,” she whispers. “But you feel… different.”

Mark nods. “I’m here for you. Not because I have to be. Not because of duty. Just… because no one should be afraid of the man who swore to protect her.” Her lips tremble. And something deep in her—buried under fear and silence—wants to believe him.

[cherie-doll]

I really really really liked the they are jealous headcanons and I neeeeed a part 2 pleeeease

Maybe with already being in a relationship with them and we are at a fancier party when a random man approaches us and tries to get our number. HOW SID HE NOT KNOW THAT WE ALREADY HAVE A MAN??? What a dumbass.

Anyways so this is what I came up with, I hope it is enough to help u get ✨creative✨

Happy new yearrr

literallllyyy (another request from the bottom of my inbox ToT so sorry ˊᯅˋ )

i didn't proofread it's 3am i just want to sleep

part 1

=͟͟͞♡ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

ଓ Price was already in a grumpy mood. He wasn't a huge fan of being out so late, especially since he had returned from mission not too long ago and had been looking forward to some rest. Unfortunately, he had been dragged into this. He had planned on staying near you the entire time so whenever he felt like he's had enough; you two could just walk out hand in hand. Simple plan. What was not planned... was him losing sight of you. He had turned to grab another drink, momentarily letting go of you. Only a second and when he turned back to face you, you were no longer by his side. Maybe you had to use the restroom or something. Until he felt an urge to find you, he didn't like not knowing where you were. He wasn't none too happy to find another fellow trying to pull you away, but he didn't feel like dealing with anyone so he just took you back. Grabbed your hand and walked off. Simple plan, remember?

ଓ Simon might seem amused at first. Asking if you were enjoying the attention you were receiving, hinting at the man who had tried hitting on you. But truth was, he nearly saw red when you had politely smiled at the man who had approached you. Simon wondered, if you had smiled because you found the poor attempt at flirting hilarious. He would cross his arms, standing directly behind this man who has no idea. Until he turns around and is met with the tall and intimidating wall that Simon is. The man nearly jumps out of his own skin. After that, Simon doesn't say much, not even to you or anyone. But he does keep an eye on the other guests there, just in case. Don't get him wrong though! He isn't mad at you, just a little irritated that someone would even try.

ଓ Johnny gets sooo visibly upset. Like this man frowns and crosses his arms as if he were a little kid and refuses to talk to anyone. You're stifling your laugh, trying not to worsen his mood but it really is funny watching him sulk. "Come on, it's just some guy I don't even know, I'm not going to take him seriously!" You tell him. Just some guy? Oh honey, don't even get him started! He was completely disregarded, there was no way that random man hadn't seen Johnny sitting there before, and that's what he's mad about. He's got a much friendly disposition and outward appearance, of course he wouldn't be taken as seriously unless he had gotten physical. Just thinking about it makes you want to laugh all over again but you simply bite your lip and look down. Johnny doesn't like that you're laughing because he doesn't find it funny, at all. But what else could he have done? You turned the guy down all by yourself.

ଓ Kyle will ignore the bastard as best as he can; sending a clear message. He'll keep an arm on you for the rest of the night there, and if you say something about it he'll be like "Yeah, and?". Every time your gaze drifts to the sad looking fellow, Kyle will use his hand to tilt your head away from looking that way. His face is right there, don't bother looking over there, yeah? He doesn't want to concern himself with what other people may try tonight, and you shouldn't either. You can try and get him to talk about it later on, maybe when you've made it home but he won't want to bring it up. You never took him for the type to get jealous but maybe it had been a new side you had seen tonight. He ends up forgetting pretty quickly and is content to be at home with you.

ଓ Roach hadn't been too excited to be around so many people, it was sort out of his comfort zone but he ended up going just for you. He had been sort of clingy throughout the evening; too much for your liking, especially being in public. At such a crowded event it was expected for him to get a little overwhelmed. It was only natural that he wanted to stay close to you. "Give me a moment", you had said. You had needed to use the restroom and then you would be back. He had insisted on following you but you firmly told him to wait instead. But he couldn't bear to see guys ogling you and be expected to sit and wait like a dog. He wasn't good at confronting others, but he had pinpointed his targets. One look at his face would keep you from pulling away once he reached you, tugging at your sleeve to leave; his signal to leave. You don't even get a chance to turn the men down as he keeps pulling.

ଓ Alejandro would never get insecure nor take it to heart if some irrelevant were trying to not only dance with you but also wanting to get your number. Alejandro's smoothly sliding up next to you, as if casually joining the conversation. Except he only listens to half of what this person has to say before he's snaking an arm around your waist. He's dropping the sweet nicknames he calls you like "cariño" to give a clear and direct message of you already being taken, in case the fool hasn't already noticed. He doesn't get physical because there doesn't seem to be reason for it, nor does he raise his voice since the man decides to show better judgement and walk away after seeing you welcoming Alejandro's embrace. Well, who wouldn't? You'd have to be crazy to not want to immediately jump into Alejandro's arms the moment he opens them for you.

ଓ Rodolfo had really been looking forward to this romantic candlelit event as a chance to formally take you out. He had envisioned a perfect night with you, because what could go wrong at a preplanned event? You two had been enjoying yourselves, standing on a balcony and enjoying the view over the city. He had left for a few minutes to grab some refreshments. You assumed no one would bother you, but it seems flies have a way of staying hidden and stuck to the wall before launching at any small entrance. You had been left alone and suddenly a couple of men were trying to coax you into joining an after party with them. The crude jokes followed right after. Rodolfo rarely gets visibly angry, but this was shameless disrespect and to you nonetheless. Of course he was going to intervene and create some space, protectively keeping you behind him.

ଓ Phillip doesn't play when it comes to you. Sometimes a Shadow will make a joke in passing about hitting on the commander's s/o and they'll get disciplined for it even if it wasn't serious. So imagine how much more possessive he'd get when a total stranger is being very obvious and insistent about his interest in you. You tell them you have someone and flash the ring at them that Phillip had bought you, of course Phillip always has you decked out in whatever jewelry you like. Still, that isn't enough to get the man off your back. And enter stage right Phillip Graves! "Everything alright, darling?". All tender and caring towards you but narrowing his eyes as a warning to the stranger who doesn't know when to give up. However, your hand resting on his arm as a gentle reminder helps him to not get too carried away.

ଓ Makarov doesn't bother with dealing with those pesky flies that try to get something out of you. You're his, of course there would be people who would try to get with you. But that was usually when it was clear those men couldn't give you what Makarov can. They're all bark but no bite, Makarov on the other hand, has given you everything you've ever wanted and more. At this fancy and exclusive party, there are only people with high status with all of them having deep pockets. Still, he doesn't let that stop him from showing you off like he usually does. Even if it means some might think you're a toy he can share. But here, he’ll show them that even with all their money and charms, you’ll still choose him over them. He’s leaving it to you to hold his arm, stay by his side, ask for his affection.

ଓ Keegan can't stay away for too long before someone is trying to get you to sit at another table or trying to play matchmaker by partnering you up with one of their single, lone friends. Normally, you'd reject their advances too, but part of you wanted to see how Keegan would react. You knew him to be protective of you even when you were only friends, but you wondered how much more intense he'd be now that you were officially a thing. So you played dumb, just a little wouldn't hurt. Keegan wasn't concerned at first, even leaned back and watched expectingly as he drank from his glass. But he nearly choked when you instead of ignoring them, you sat and listened, politely nodding as if you saw no problem. Did you not know they were blatantly flirting with you? Either way, party is over, he's taking you and going home. He didn't bring you here for someone else to take you on a date.

ଓ König wouldn't even have to confront anyone because the moment someone sees his tall frame towering over them, hovering near you like some entity.. they're gone in an instant. No one is sticking around long enough to find out what'll happen if they continue flirting with you. But little do they know, König might've not even noticed them, he's not the best at social cues or socialization in the first place. He would have just assumed you were making friends, unless he caught the way their eyes lingered on you a little too long. Or if their hands seem to have trouble staying at their sides. Then he'll cock his head, staring intensely and trying to read their true intentions. That is usually enough to get the person to feel uncomfortable and drop the act.

ଓ Horangi wouldn't like how many guys have approached you in the span of like half an hour. You look stunning, it's only natural all eyes would be on you, that's why he was so proud to stand by you. But it's like they completely disregarded him because why were people asking for your number? He's making himself known before you can even politely decline, asking "Didn't you see me? I'm their partner-" and you have to tell him to cut it out before he starts a fight with someone. No one hasn't gotten handsy with you yet, so it would be more embarrassing for a fight to break out all because he got jealous. You do have to admit, you sort of like seeing him get protective like this, it's kind hot idk.

ଓ Nikto shouldn't even be feeling this intense selfishness within him. Why does he suddenly dislike others having eyes? But he's not jealous, is he? He's being completely reasonable, those people should back away from you. You're both here to enjoy your time together as a couple, not to be interrupted by others. Why can't people understand that? He gets irritable seeing one person in particular follow you around, not taking your rejection for an answer, he supposes. But Nikto didn't come here to watch others try to court you, he's had enough and is taking you on his way out. He's seen enough, he doesn't want to go to another one of those dinner parties if it means entitled people will want to try their luck with you.

[reesespeanutbutterfuck]

sickly blues

wherein rafayel had to begrudgingly fly overseas for a retrospective exhibition occurring somewhere away from home. he was occupied the whole day and only now he got ahold of his phone to message his beloved wife and check on his daughter, atlantis—who is going through a bad fever, crying out her dada's name and weeping out of longingness for him.

pairing: parents!rafamc (and their little girl!)

cw: none, js sweet n tender domestic fatherly rafayel with a toddler i feel so sigma and aaaaaaaawww

—

rafayel: i just finished giving a long ass speech onstage sorry for being inactive 

rafayel: how are my cutie n my sick little cutie doing are you both ok 

rafayel: pls say yes im this 🤏🤏 close to jumping off the balcony and coming straight home

rafayel: to hell with thomas

rafayel: (dun respond if youre resting or busy btw we can always talk later)

mc: not resting or busy we’re doing fine. atlantis’ temp still hasn’t gone down from 38°C. pls don’t give thomas any more headaches, that poor guy.

mc: and dw love, i’m beside her on the bed and i've prepared the car so i can take her to the hospital anytime if it gets worse. i've fed her her favourite foods too. but she keeps crying and calling out to you :/// it hurts me to see our little antis like this

rafayel: oh no

rafayel: can i call

rafayel: i miss you both :( my girls

mc: i’ve already put her to sleep only a while ago she got tired after crying for hours

mc: but you gotta see this

mc: [Video Attachment]

–

When Rafayel clicked play, his eyes immediately softened upon the sight of his daughter. The recording played a video showing her face softly weeping, cheeks flushed from fever, carried by you on your lap. It appears that she had just finished crying from her look of restlessness. Rafayel feels a sharp pang in his chest like his heartstrings are being tugged. 

His poor baby… If only he could take all her pain away even if it meant passing it to himself tenfold.

As the scene in the video unfolds, his daughter clings to her mama and sniffles, rubbing her eyes with her small hands. Your hand can be seen in the video removing Atlantis’ small hands from her eyes and brushing her short purple hair strands off her face before wiping her tears with your hands.

Atlantis’ lips quivered as she needily mewled, “Dada…”

“Dada will be away for some time, Antis.” It was your voice. 

“Want Dada…....Ayel…....” she rubs her eyes again, still sniffling. “Ayel” was her own way of saying “Rafayel” since she still cannot pronounce all three syllables of her dad’s name yet. Rafayel almost teared up on how his daughter's longingness can be heard from her wobbly voice. He doesn’t want to think about how much pain his baby is going through.

“Ayel.....…” her small hands can be seen on camera tugging on your clothes, begging for her dada. That’s when Rafayel’s heart broke completely. He knows how children tend to seek comfort from their parents during a fever, especially when they feel pain.

You gently caressed her head and kissed her hot forehead to soothe her, as seen in the video. “Sorry, Antis. Dada’s still far away… he’ll be back very soon, love.” 

“Mum…” Your daughter curls up and hugs your chest mellowly as you rock her to sleep and whisper sweet things to her ear, the toddler’s yearning for her dad still not satisfied.

When the recording ended, Rafayel’s lips quivered and his chest tightened as he traced his daughter’s face with his finger tenderly with longingness. How desperate he is to hold her in his arms and coo at her softly to ease the pain and comfort her.

–

mc: i had to give her one of your clean shirts that had your cologne on them so she could smell your scent. she hugged and held onto it until she dozed off only then she could sleep ://

–

Your revelation caused Rafayel’s heart to clench tighter. His homesickness caught up to him too. Badly.

–

rafayel: im in tears rn my poor baby girl im coming home as soon as possible curse this n everyone i mean it

rafayel: take care of yourself too ok cutie dun starve yourself rest and sleep properly hold on just for a little longer and ill be there with you and our lil cutie back at home 

rafayel: ill call later when shes awake i love you please tell her im omw home and dada loves her too ill be by her side 24/7 when i come back i promise

rafayel: i hope she feels better soon

mc: sure message me when u're free. i love you come home safely

–

Rafayel truly did not give a fuck if he had to pay triple the standard travel fee to rush back home to his wife and daughter. The overseas exhibition that required him to stay for another day be damned, he could not withstand another day anymore knowing his daughter is back at home crying out for him and in pain without his presence. Even so, he didn't forget to gather a few souvenirs for the both of you.

***

whoever disagrees that rafa deserves a married + family life w us lk this after everything he's gone through is not safe around me thank you

© reesespeanutbutterfuck 2025, don't forget to support your creators by reblogging !

[chilling-seavey]

She Never Did (gr63)

↳ A/N I just had to post more sub!George because...well...have you seen this man? Who wouldn't want to give him what he deserves and peg him until he's crying with pleasure <3

↳ Summary: George is only missing one thing in his relationship. That one thing is what only you can give to him.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 19.2k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, adultery, George has an unnamed girlfriend and there is a lot of negative talk about their sex life throughout, fem!dom and sub!George, pegging, use of toys (anal beads, cockring, prostate vibrator, strap), oral sex (m and f receiving), sucking off a dildo and forced deepthroating, rimming, degradation (names like 'slut', 'whore', 'pathetic' etc.), brief mommy kink (only used once or twice), lots of lube, watching in a mirror, using cum as lube, minor CBT (cock and ball torture), (mis)use of a safeword, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, begging, choking, restraining with hands, spanking, slapping, hair pulling, finger sucking, nipple play, overstimulation, unprotected sex, aftercare, angst.

Are you busy? Can I come over?

It was always how it started, those two questions lighting up your phone screen, and they often appeared coincidentally right when you were thinking about him. That wasn’t odd, however, as there weren’t many minutes in the day where you weren’t thinking about him.

You lifted your phone from your desk to reply to George’s text message without need for any second thought, accepting him over and his promise to be there within the hour.

You knew why he wanted to come over—it was really the only reason he had since he was usually preoccupied with his girlfriend or traveling all around the world for races—but his dirty little secret was safe with you. It was thrilling, in a sense, to go behind everyone's backs like that but you were too head over heels for George to think logically and he was too unfulfilled in his relationship—in a way that was a bit too taboo to admit to others—to think of stopping what had already been started. You both kept quiet, he got what he wanted, and you got that shot of dopamine from giving him exactly that. You would kill to please him and when he turned to you as the only person to do so successfully? Who were you to deny him that?

In preparation for his impending arrival, you tidied up your apartment just enough to look presentable: putting away the dishes from the sink into the dishwasher and tidying up your desk that was scattered with papers and work, finally finishing with a re-making of your bed and a dusting to your surfaces. He certainly wasn’t coming over to analyze the cleanliness of your apartment but a small sliver of you wanted to aim to impress him; even if he was clueless to it. 

No more than thirty minutes later, your phone rang and you didn’t even have to look at the ID to know it was the buzzer from the lobby. When you answered it, George’s muffled voice through the cheaply made building speaker system crackled through, 

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Come on up.” 

You unlocked the lobby door from your keypad to let him in. 

It only took him a minute to take the elevator up to your floor and soon he was knocking at your suite door. You had almost been waiting in your foyer for him so his hand had barely dropped from the knock by the time you yanked open the door to reveal him on the other side. He was wearing black jeans and his favourite brown boots under a lined jacket with the hood pulled up over his head as if keeping a lazy disguise for the trek between the parking garage and your front door. 

“Hey.” you tried not to grin too widely as you stepped aside, “Come on in.”

It was a familiar occurrence to George so he was perfectly comfortable coming in and taking off his shoes at the door: a habit that you insisted he take up when visiting you. A few times, his girlfriend had pointed out him taking off his shoes when entering his own home—a prime example of how often he was coming to see you—and he had to pass it off with some blasé excuse each time. 

You took his jacket from him to hang it up in the front closet, leaving him in only a linen shirt tucked into his jeans as he took a few casual paces farther into your apartment as you did so. His eyes lingered on your crowded yet organized desk, littered with your notebooks and dual monitors under a large wall calendar scribed with important dates, meetings, deadlines, and friend’s birthdays. His eyes lingered on February 14th labeled ‘Singles Day’ in pink ink in your gentle penmanship, right beside February 15th labeled ‘George’s Birthday’.

“Do you want a drink or anything?”

Your voice startled him out of his slight distractedness and he glanced back at you as if half forgetting you were there, answering smoothly, “Sure. Whatever you’re having.”

He helped himself to the living room of your small apartment as you opened the fridge to serve yourself and your guest and he sat himself on the small two-seater couch. Space was limited so it was the best you could have. George leaned back and watched you silently as you set two glasses on the kitchen island and started each with a single shot of peach liqueur and then filled them the rest of the way with orange juice. His leg bounced restlessly, socked foot tapping dully against the wood floor. 

The silence wasn’t unusual as you got settled into your odd routine but it wasn’t uncomfortable, just full of an indescribable tension that had your heart racing in your chest. You took the drinks to the living room only a few short steps away and George reached to take one glass from you with whispered thanks. You sat beside him on the modest couch. 

“So,” you started, both of you pausing to take a sip of your drinks before you continued, “What were you up to today?”

It always started this way. The casual catch-up and discussion before the action. 

George sighed as he stared into his glass, lips pursed in brief though before he shared like it was a casual recounting of the morning news, “Not much. I woke up with a boner…didn’t bother telling her though because, you know, what’s the point. Ended up having a wank in the shower. Then she left to get her nails done and I tried to work but I was just staring at my laptop so…thought I’d message you.”

“So she’s gone for the day?”

“Mhm.” George said through his next drink before swallowing and then answering, “Getting her nails done or something and then going shopping, I guess. I just texted her saying I was going for a hike.”

“Shopping.” you repeated with a dull nod before countering, “Nothing of sustenance?” 

George shot you a half-amused side eyed glance, “Sustenance like what?”

“I dunno.” you shrugged innocently, “A job?”

“Not everyone can have two jobs, a degree, a second degree in progress, and multiple promising hobbies on the go at once.” George teased. 

“Hey,” you tisked, “why not? Gives a woman purpose in life. But, I guess shopping is fun too.”

You both shared little smiles through your next sips of your mixed drinks. 

You pried a little more, “How’s it been going with her?” 

George shrugged, “It’s going fine.”

You waited to let him continue at his own pace. 

He took another drink before relaxing back on the couch again, his body angled towards you habitually, “You know how it’s going. It’s the usual: really nice generally but kinda boring in bed.”

“Mhm.” you encouraged him on, leaning forward to set your glass on a coaster on the coffee table so you could give him your full attention. 

“I’ve been putting in more hours on the sim this last week or so…flying out to Brackley more often to visit the factory. She brought it up to me that I’ve been distancing myself from her and I didn’t realize it at first but maybe that’s true.”

You ignored the ache in your chest over the discussion of his girlfriend and their sex life, “Why’s that?”

George’s finger traced the rim of his glass and he sucked on his teeth for a second, trying to hide his bashful little smile over his confession, “Because she won’t give me what I want. And I’m tired of doing all the work all the time.”

“She’s really stupid for that.” you replied, earning his eyes to raise to look at you as you explained, “Why wouldn’t she want to pleasure you the way you want? That’s selfish, in my opinion.”

“She can’t help that she’s not into it. I’m not going to make her do something she’s uncomfortable with.”

You kept your mouth shut, knowing that you’d say something a little too hostile if you didn’t. George sensed this and he sat up again and set his half empty glass on the table beside yours. 

“I’m just lucky I have you then.” he gave your arm a little nudge. 

You smiled softly at him and set your hand on his knee, “Me too.”

“I’m really, really lucky.” he continued softly. 

His eyes weren’t discreet as his gaze dropped to your lips and he licked his own. Your hand rubbed gently over his thigh.

“And work?” you pressed. 

“Fine.” he answered, unmoving, “Car’s good. I’ve been consistent this year…feels great.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah…feels good.” he breathed. 

“Mhm?” you gave his thigh a squeeze and he inhaled sharply. 

There was a pause, taken up by both of you just staring at each other side by side, bodies turned towards each other naturally and gazes drifting between lips and eyes. Who was going to make the first move?

“Did you wash up?” you asked lowly. 

“Yeah,” George licked his lips, “Took a detailed shower right before I came over.”

“Good boy.”

His teeth sunk into his bottom lip, smothering a smile. 

“What do you want to do today?” you asked, sliding your hand along the inner seam of his jeans and your thumb caressed his thigh. 

“Whatever you want.” George answered.

“That’s pretty broad.” you stated. “You have nothing specific in mind that you want?”

He shook his head, his body habitually starting to lean towards you. 

“Do you want me to tell you what I’m going to do? Or just do it?” 

He sounded dazed, as if he was already starting to fall into that perfect little headspace without you even properly touching him, “Whatever you want.”

You set your other hand against his chest to keep him from leaning too close, your faces almost centimeters apart. He licked his lips again and then bit his bottom one as he focused on your face, his hand resting on the seat of the couch behind you with how close he was. 

“Whatever I want?” you repeated, giving his thigh a squeeze.

“Mhm.” he answered with a gentle nod, “You know how I like it.”

“I do,” you agreed as you rubbed his thigh right up tauntingly close to his crotch, “and you remember our safe word?”

“Yes, ma’am.” he replied easily.

“Good boy.” you whispered. 

You eased your hand away from his chest, allowing him to lean in towards you and he did so happily until you set your finger against his lips, preventing him from kissing you. He stared into your eyes. You could smell his woodsy cologne on him with how close he sat and you tried not to make it too obvious with how you breathed him in. Your finger dragged down his lips, tugging at the bottom one gently before watching it fall back into place, and your hand on his thigh wrapped around the waistband of his jeans. 

You taunted him with a whisper right to his lips, “Wanna come to my room so I can treat you like the perfect little slutty boy you are?”

“Yes, please.” he breathed. 

You linked your finger in one of his belt loops and tugged him up from the couch and pulled him after you towards your room, half-empty drinks forgotten on the coffee table. George followed after you eagerly despite the way you led him across the hardwood floor and into your bedroom by the hem of his jeans and once you entered, you left the door wide open behind you. You were all alone after all, encapsulated by the thrilling privacy. 

When you turned to face him again, George tried to lean in to kiss you but you grabbed him by his arms and turned him around to shove him backwards onto the end of your bed. He landed on his back with a small gasp, staring up at you with wide blue eyes as you stood at the foot of the bed proudly. You untucked his linen shirt from his jeans with eager fists and he helped you to unbutton it so you could toss it aimlessly towards the pillows. His body was so perfect to you and your eyes glided over his bare torso as he rested on his elbows for you, your hands dancing down his pecs and over the arches and valleys of his muscle. 

“God, just look at you. You’re so sexy.” you said, hints of longing teasing your voice. 

“Thank you.” George replied angelically with a faint smile at his lips. 

Your hands unbuckled his belt and he stared down his body to watch as you pulled the leather strap out of the metal buckle, his bottom lip between his teeth. When your slender fingers popped the button on his jeans and tugged down the little zipper, George’s mouth fell open slightly in anticipation, flicking his eyes between your face and your hands as you worked to undress him. He lifted his legs up to let you pull his jeans and his underwear down in one smooth motion, dropping them to the ground, stripping him absolutely bare on the end of your queen size bed. He stared at you patiently.

The black silicone ring that was wrapped around the base of his cock drew your attention right away as it stood out against his fair skin and nestled against the trimmed hair that grew there. He was already hard and you wondered how he managed to hide it so well in his jeans the whole way up to your apartment and as you shared drinks in your living room. He certainly wasn’t small. 

“Oh my God, angel,” you exhaled, easily falling into your role that he expected of you, “you already put the cockring on yourself?”

“Yeah.” he licked away his cocky grin, “Couldn’t wait. Knew you’d want it on anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re such a good boy,” you reached down to gently stroke his dick with the tips of your fingers.

He hummed faintly at your touch, his hips trying to push up towards your hand and he groaned at the flexing motion. 

Your palms drifted up his abs as you spoke to him in a sickeningly sweet voice, “Coming all the way over here with that big, heavy dick of yours in that little ring…bet you’re just fucking aching for someone to touch you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” George answered, “Been wanting it all day…been wanting you to touch me all day.”

You pressed your palms against his chest and pushed him flat against the bed, leaving his legs hanging off the end, and you climbed on top of him to straddle his lap. George licked his lips as he stared up at you still fully clothed over top of him and his hands gravitated to your waist while yours caressed his chest and his abs. 

“What were you thinking of when you jerked off in the shower this morning?” you asked.

“You,” he answered, “fucking me.”

“Mhm?” you grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the sheets on either side of his head so you were leaning right over him, “Letting me have my way with you?”

“Yes, miss.” he breathed, eyes locked on your lips. 

“Just fucking every single little stupid thought from your pretty little head?”

“Yeah.” George whimpered faintly, “Please, can you?”

“Are you gonna do everything I say like a good little toy?”

“Yes, miss.” he nodded almost eagerly and you could nearly see his pupils dilating from lust in those blue eyes of his. 

He just looked so sweet underneath you like that, with your hands pinning him down and how he stayed just like that so obediently, that you couldn’t help yourself but lean down to dust a faint kiss over his lips. George flinched in pleasant surprise and just as he went to kiss you back, you pulled away. 

“No-” he squeaked. 

You got off of him, “I want you on your stomach.”

George offered no complaints despite his unfulfilled kiss as he shifted on your bed and adjusted himself to lay face down in the middle, resting his arms under his head as he let his gaze follow you while you undressed to your bra and matching panties. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip patiently with a little grind against your bed as you got yourself situated and knelt up onto the bed beside him. 

What you hadn’t noticed initially was the black silicone shape nestled between his ass cheeks, now on display to you with him on his stomach. Your eyebrows raised and you reached out to gently press your middle finger against the flared base, earning a sharp inhale from the man beneath you. 

“Oh, my good boy, you got yourself so prepped and ready for me today.” you complimented, “You must have really wanted it.”

“Yes, miss.” George exhaled, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow shyly as he kept his eyes peeking over his bicep to where you stood at the bedside. 

“My little slut saving me so much time.” Your fingers rubbed gently over the flat narrow elongated base of the toy between his plush cheeks, “It’s so fucking hot thinking of you alone in your bathroom fingering your asshole to get this little toy to fit in there.”

“It was really tight.” George confessed.

“Bet it felt so good.” you said. 

“Mhm.” George answered into his elbow, “Was grinding on the seat of my car the whole way here too. Felt so fucking good.”

You tossed a leg over his thighs so you were straddling him and your hands rubbed lightly over the curve of his ass, one cheek under each hand. George took a shuttering breath. 

“And how does it feel now?” you pressed. 

“Good.” he mumbled, “I feel full.” 

“Just how you like it, right?”

“Mhm.” he shifted against the mattress a little, “Not as good as your dick though.” 

“Good boy.” you chuckled, gently smacking one palm down against his ass. 

He flinched and groaned tightly. 

“Want a little spanking, angel?” you asked. 

“Yeah…please.” George exhaled. 

You hit him gently with your other hand before soothing the spot with a little rub and then repeating that action on the other side, forcing a tight gasp from his mouth. You could see how he clenched around the toy in his ass with every light spank, urging you to do it again. But then you were just dragging your fingers over the curve of his ass and down the backs of his thighs, before giving him a few light smacks up his inner thighs and he groaned prettily into his arm.

“That’s my good boy.” you cooed, sliding your hands up his spine ever so faintly, raising shivers in your wake back down his golden skin. The few freckles that dotted his skin were familiar to you now and part of you wished your relationship was one that would permit you to kiss each one so lovingly. Instead, you pushed your innermost feelings aside with another spank to his ass. 

“Mm.” George grunted softly at the impact, his body flinching. 

When you pulled your hands away, he rutted faintly against the bed, his face still tucked in the crook of his arm on top of your pillows. 

“Needy little slut.” you tisked, giving him another little swat to his soft ass. 

“Please, miss.” he breathed. 

“Speak up, angel.” you said, “Use that pretty voice of yours.” 

George lifted his head from his arm to word his plea over his shoulder to you, “Please can you touch me, miss?”

With persistent grips, you groped his ass in your palms to pull a moan from his chest. 

“Yeah.” he groaned into his arm as the strong persistence of your hands had the toy inside him shifting. 

“Good boy.” you breathed, massaging his ass like dough in your warm palms. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

Your hands drifted up his spine and you gave his shoulders a little rub before dragging down his back again, rubbing and caressing his toned muscles tenderly. George gave you appreciative little hums as he fell into easy relaxation under your hands and his eyes struggled to stay open with how good it felt for you to rub him down. His body was art to you and you always liked to take a moment to let yourself admire every inch of it before really getting down to the reason why he showed up…besides, he would never complain about a massage. 

You couldn’t help yourself but lean down so you were laying right on top of him, pressing your hips against his ass to push that toy deeper inside him and he groaned tightly, and your lips found his neck in a gentle kiss. George’s shoulder raised up slightly at the shiver your faint kiss rose over his skin and his sharp inhale had you trailing more right up under his ear while your hips ground down against his ass faintly. 

“Oh my God.” he groaned into the crook of his arm, his eyes closed gently. 

“That’s my good boy.” you praised against the shell of his ear and gave it a little nibble just to earn a soft whine out of him. Then you were moving back down his neck and sucking a hickey into his shoulder. 

“No marks.” he reminded you breathily, “She’s gonna see.”

You pulled away from him with a small string of spit connecting your lips to his shoulder, staring down at the faint blushing love bite you left behind, and you rubbed the heels of your palms into his shoulder blades, counting his gentle protest, “I didn’t hear a safe word, angel.”

He didn’t have a chance to reply as you nudged your hips against his doughy ass in a mock thrust, just to make him really feel that toy inside him, and your nails dragged down his back just hard enough to leave ten straight lines blushing red against his caramel skin. George moaned tightly and you leaned back down to kiss his neck again. 

“Turn over,” you whispered against his ear, “I want to look at you properly.”

You sat back from him so he could shift himself over ungracefully onto his back and you left yourself straddling his thighs, sitting yourself down on them once he got situated. His naked body was laid out for you angelically—like a marble statue—and you rubbed your hands up his abs and his chest and then over his broad shoulders, giving them a warm squeeze. George blinked up at you with his bottom lip between his teeth, his arms draped on either side of his head against your pillow, entirely trusting of you, and all you could think about was how your pillow was going to smell like him that night. What a treat. 

“Gorgeous man.” you breathed. 

Your hands slid back down his chest and you pinched his nipples between thumb and forefinger, giving them a little twist. George’s little shuddering breath had you smirking proudly down at him, trailing your fingers daintily down his abs to feel the hard muscle under your fingertips and the precise expression of man that was laid out before you, all for you to touch and worship. 

His dick was insanely hard and standing up in the cool air of your bedroom with the ring wrapped snugly around the base to hold it there. You stared at it for a second, feeling the way it made your insides coil with arousal. You craved it inside you so intensely but it was a feeling you had never been blessed with and part of you assumed that maybe you never will. Pushing aside those melancholy thoughts, you faintly slid your fingertip along the leaking slit in the head of his cock, smirking at how his dick twitched under your feather-soft touch. His tense little hum had you doing it again before suddenly giving a gentle flick to the underside of the tip. 

“Oh-” George squeaked, his whole body flinching at that. 

Not giving into the touch he so desperately needed from you, you moved your legs from the outside of his to kneel yourself between his two, ordering him sweetly, “Hold your legs back for me, angel.” 

George reached down to grab his thighs and he pulled his legs back towards his chest for you, giving you room to stare at his thick cock between his thighs. Your hands rested on the undersides of his knees and pushed them farther apart. 

“Wider, handsome.” you cooed, “Hold them open by your ankles.”

When he obeyed you and kept a snug grip around each of his ankles to really hold his legs open wide, he looked filthy and so submissive like that, just waiting for you to do whatever you wanted to him. He was so spread and nearly bent in half that you had a clear view of his dick, his balls, and right down to his asshole that still held that matte black toy nestled inside it. 

“Good boy.” you praised and, with a gentle knuckle, you caressed his perineum. 

“Oh, please, miss.” George whimpered, his head falling back against the pillow beneath him, “Please touch me, I’m so fucking horny.” 

You didn’t offer him another word before you were leaning down and dropping out your tongue to lick right up the underside of his cock. The hitch of his breath had you smothering your smile behind another slow lick, dragging your full tongue right up the impressive length of his erection until you could taste the hints of salty precum that leaked from the tip onto your tastebuds. 

“Fuck.” George exhaled, staring down his body at you between his spread legs while your tongue caressed the underside of the tip of his cock, rubbing against the most sensitive spots that had his chest rising and falling heavily. 

With your hands resting daintily on his abs, you shifted onto your stomach so you could reach him easier and you pressed a sloppy wet kiss to the head of his cock. It twitched against your lips and you licked at it tauntingly, staring right back into his wide blue eyes up his vast expanse of abs and chest underneath you. You were always cruel with your teasing and he knew this well, but he also knew that the more you teased, the more you would reward him generously for taking it. So he didn’t argue. 

“Such a pretty dick.” you whispered right up against it with your lips brushing the soft skin of the head. You gave it another kiss. “Pretty dick on a pretty boy.” 

George licked his lips. 

You gave the head of his cock a little teasing suck before sitting back on your knees again and he literally whined at the loss of your fleeting contact. He stayed right where you had positioned him even as you leaned over his body to tug open your night table drawer and pull out a bottle of lube. His eyes nearly shone at the sight of it in your hand and the pop of the cap had him licking his lips excitedly and adjusting his hold on his ankles. 

You squirted a generous amount of lube onto the head of his cock, watching it drip down the sides filthily and right to the black silicone ring around the base. Then your hand was wrapping around it and smearing the lube back up the shaft of his cock, just gently enough to pull a shuddering breath from George’s chest. He lolled his head to the side as he watched you but his gaze caught in the mirrored closet doors just to the right of your bed and he gazed into the reflection. Seeing himself spread so salaciously on your bed had his cheeks turning pink but he couldn’t stop staring at it all the same - especially as he had a clear view of you knelt on the end of the bed with your slippery hand wrapped around his aching cock.

“Good boy.” you whispered, stroking him in gentle pumps of your hand until the room was filled with the wet squelch of lube. 

“Ohh God.” George moaned shakily. 

You let your other hand join your right, wrapping your fingers and thumb around the ring that held strong at the base of his dick and you kept him still as your right hand pulled twisting strokes. 

“You have such a big dick.” you breathed, “Can’t even get my fingers all the way around it.” 

“It’s yours.” he whispered, staring intently at the reflection in the full length mirror to his right. 

“Yeah, you belong to me, don’t you, baby boy?” 

“Yeah.” he exhaled. 

You gave his dick a little snug squeeze around the tip to have him gasping lightly as you ordered, “Look at me.”

George tore his eyes away from the mirror to meet your gaze and just as he did, you sped up your hand around his cock in quick flicks of your wrist. His nose scrunched up slightly as you gave him the attention he craved and he sunk his teeth back into his bottom lip with a soft chuckle laced so prettily with a whimper.

“You like looking at yourself, huh?” you taunted. 

George just hummed tightly, staring down at your hand tending to his aching cock with both hands, one perfectly still as the other jerked him off rapidly until his toes were curling in the air where he was holding them. Then you stopped suddenly and his head tossed back with a little grunt, only having to linger in that unpleasant ache for a few seconds before you slowly started stroking his dick with both hands in opposite twisting pumps. 

“Ohh fuck.” he whined and he met his reflection again easily, staring at himself and his expression’s natural waver. 

“You really like looking at yourself.” you reiterated, “Looking at what a perfect, beautiful little slut you are?”

“Yes, ma’am.” George groaned. 

“Yeah, you can’t even look at me when I ask you to…you just gotta stare at yourself in that mirror, huh?” you pressed. 

George turned his head back towards you, “Sorry.”

“Watching me stroke your dick is too much for you, angel?”

George exhaled, “Yeah.” 

“Mhm?” 

Your right hand was focused on the top half of his dick and with his response, you gave him quick little pumps right around the tip that had his head arching back against the pillow with a moan. 

“Oh, baby-” he withered. 

“Good boy.” you praised lustfully. 

The slick sound of your lube streaked hand tending to his cock filled your quaint bedroom and George stared down at it with his mouth agape. He gave you the sweetest sounds that made you wonder how anyone could deny him all the pleasure in the world, just how he wanted it. Just the sounds of him had you wanting to give it all up for him, giving him anything, so long as he kept moaning for you. It was what you thought of and imagined on those lonely nights after he went home to his girlfriend and you were left to touch yourself to the mere memory of him and the scent of his sweat and cologne that lingered on your pillow.

His cock throbbed in your hand under your impressive flicks of your wrist and once his nose started to scrunch up with pleasure, you stopped and pulled your hands right off of him. George inhaled sharply as his head fell backwards again and he groaned lowly to the ceiling at your edging.

“Fuck, I wanna cum so bad.” he spoke shakily. 

“Did you not cum this morning?” you asked, trailing your finger down the shaft of his dick, “In the shower?”

“Yeah, but…” he sniffled, “Barely.”

You cracked a small smile, cooing down to him lustfully, “My poor baby boy.”

George hummed in faint appreciation for your acknowledgment of his treacherous struggle and as both of your hands gently cupped his balls, his hum molded into a soft moan. 

“Poor little angel just wants to cum.” you tisked, massaging him in your hands snugly, “These heavy balls just need some relief, don’t they?”

“Yeah.” George exhaled, readjusting his grip on his ankles as he still held himself spread for you.

“Mhm.” you leaned down and wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock for a little suckle, hollowing your cheeks to make him feel the warm wet confines of your mouth that was only for him to be blessed with. 

“God.” he groaned through his teeth. 

You pulled off him again with a pop and his ample cock fell up against his abdomen, glistening in lube in the light from your open curtains. Without any tissues nearby, you reached for his linen shirt that was laying tossed over your opposite pillow from moments earlier when you stripped him in a rush, and you used that to wipe the lube off your hands. As you did so, you instructed him gently, “Hands and knees now, please, handsome.”

George dropped his legs with a half-relieved sigh and he turned over onto his hands and knees as expected of him, facing your headboard. Dropping the shirt to the side again, you rubbed your soft hands over the curve of his ass and leaned down to kiss one cheek before punctuating the soft act with a hard spank. He grunted tightly at the impact. 

“We’re gonna take this toy out of you now, okay?” you warning. 

“Okay.” George exhaled. 

You grabbed the bottle of lube and squirted another pump right between his cheeks and you watched as the clear liquid trickled down to his asshole and spread itself around the body of the toy that was nestled inside him. With a careful hand, you slid two fingers under each side of the flared base like you were handling a corkscrew and you gave it a gentle twist just to smear that lube around a little more. George’s tight inhale had you caressing his thigh with your other hand and you held him gently as you started to pull at the toy. 

You could see how his muscles stretched around it as the body of the toy was slowly eased out of him and you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip to keep focused on your cautious move. George’s mouth was hanging open as he stared over into the mirror again to watch, letting out a tight groan as the modest size sphere was pulled from his ass. You had anticipated that it would be done and he had just tucked a cheeky little buttplug up there before coming over, but even when you pulled it out, it was still stuck inside. 

“Naughty little slut, look at you.” you chuckled, giving the base of the toy a little teasing tug, “Didn’t even know you had a bigger plug.”

“Ordered one last week just for you, miss.” George confessed behind blushing pink cheeks. 

“You’re such a good boy, baby.” you tisked. “How’d you sneak it past her?”

“Kept it under one of my old helmets in my office.” George answered obediently. “It’s where I keep all my presents for you.” 

“For you.” you corrected him. 

“For me.” he repeated softly. 

“Yeah, it’s all for you, angel.” you reminded him sweetly and gave the toy another little tug. 

George groaned softly and you kissed the bottom of his spine, holding him tenderly as you carefully eased out the second sphere. He was so sensitive and tight and it took a fair amount of effort to finally get the toy completely out of him with a careful hand. 

When it finally came free with a filthy wet pop, George gasped for breath after having held it for the last few long seconds and you stared at how his hole clenched and gaped back at you. You couldn’t help yourself but slide two fingers inside him, slicked up easily in the excess lube that coated his skin and dripped down the toy. The return of the sight fullness had George moaning softly, thankfully, and you kissed his back again before eyeing the anal beads that rested used in your open palm. Three fair sized spheres were equally spread up the narrow silicone base, glistening in lube, and the mere concept of him standing alone in his ensuite bathroom and lubing himself up to slide these in his ass for you had you pulsing with desire for the man at your mercy. 

The anal beads were tossed to the side of the bed, landing on top of his discarded shirt, and you kissed down his spine again as your fingers thrusted into him slowly. George’s reverberating moan had you smiling against his skin and prying apart his flesh with your free hand, giving you room to drop your tongue out and lick around your fingers that were pushing shallowly inside him. He literally withered and his legs naturally spread a little wider, welcoming you in closer. 

You pursed your lips and let a thick dribble of spit fall onto your fingers and your tongue followed after it, swirling it around the snug rim of muscle that hugged your two digits tightly. George groaned shakily and you lapped at his asshole gladly, loving the way he was so vocal and trusting with you. You would give him anything. 

“Fuck, that’s so good, baby.” George exhaled, staring at himself in the full-length mirror to his left, earning a full view of his naked body on hands and knees and your face buried behind him with your hand on his waist.

His breathing alone was erotic and you pulled your fingers out of him so you could have a clear shot at his ass with your tongue, kissing it wetly a few times as your slippery hand dropped down to take hold of his dick between his legs. George let out the shakiest little whine as you started stroking his cock sloppily and let your tongue swirl and pry at his asshole between wet messy kisses. He slumped down onto his forearms against the bed without tearing his locked gaze away from the mirror, wide eyed gaping at how you stroked his dick and smothered yourself between his cheeks. 

“Ohh-” he whimpered, fisting the pillow in his large hands, “Yeah, please-”

You pulled away from him with a taunt, “Does that feel good, baby boy?”

“Yes, miss. Feels so fucking good.” he pleaded. 

Your tongue nudged inside him and he pushed back against your face desperately. You kept a snug grip on the base of his cock, holding his balls in your palm at the same time, to give all your focus on rimming him filthily. The wet slurps that fell from your throat were only dramatized slightly because, in reality, he did make you drool uncontrollably. Your free hand pulled back to spank him again and as you did so, you could feel him clench under your tongue, making you chuckle warmly against him as you pulled him back on your mouth by a snug handful of his flesh. 

“Christ, I need it.” George begged, pushing back on your face some more, “I need you inside me.”

“Mhm?” you taunted against his body, spanking him again, ordering with a muffled voice as you kissed down the backs of his thighs, “Beg for it.”

“Please, fuck me.” he answered easily, the words spilling out of him, “I really, really need you to fuck me. I need it so bad. Been wanting it all day, mommy, please let me take your dick.” 

You dragged your tongue right back up his thigh and over his balls and perineum and you left him with one more wet kiss to his asshole. You could never say no to him. Not when he asked so prettily.

Sitting back from him, you left him with a hard slap across the ass, already starting to see the blush of pink of your handprint left behind on his fair skin as you told him, “I don’t want you touching yourself. Keep your hands flat on the headboard so I can see them.” 

George slid his hands out from underneath him and, resting forward on his elbows, he set his palms against the wood of your headboard. You gave him another little spank before getting off the bed. He watched intently as you reached behind your back to unclip your bra and let it fall to the floor, quickly followed by the drop of your panties. He licked his lips in anticipation and his gaze followed your every slight movement as you opened your bedside table drawer again to retrieve your purple dildo and black leather harness. 

“Oh my God.” George exhaled impatiently as he watched you buckle the harness around your hips and thighs, “That’s your biggest, right?”

“Yeah.” you answered, “Is that okay?”

“Fuck yeah, that’s okay.”

You dropped your smirk at his response as you tucked the dildo through the secure loop in the harness, “Of course you want the biggest one, fucking slut.”

George hid his smile into the crook of his arm with his hands still held against your headboard like you asked. His eyes never left you as you made sure the strap-on was secure and even when you climbed back onto the bed behind him, he stared at you through the mirror. You were awe-inspiring to him. 

The pop of the bottle of lube had his teeth sinking into his bottom lip but the dry squelch that came with the press of the pump wasn’t what was expected. George glanced over his shoulder at you as you shook it and then squeezed the pump again, earning nothing but a little drop to come out onto your hand. 

“Looks like I’m out of lube.” you announced. 

George’s eyes widened and he nearly sounded heartbroken, “No.”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry.” you leaned over him to reach into your open drawer again, “I have a spare.”

He hid his embarrassment over his obvious momentary disappointment into the pillow, “Good.” 

“Just shows how often you come over, huh?” you gave his bum a little pat before unlocking the cap of the new bottle, “Already gone through the bulk size in a matter of a month.” 

“Sorry.” George mumbled, his voice muffled by fabric.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, Georgie.” you assured him as you pumped a few generous squirts onto the strap and then slicked it up with your hand, “I always love having you over to hang out.” 

George offered a half smile that you didn’t catch at your little joke before he was countering gently, “You’re spending so much money on lube.”

“Fine then.” you compromised as you smeared some around his asshole and slid two fingers inside to get him nice and slick, “Next time, you bring your own bottle.” 

George chuckled softly, “Deal.” 

You grabbed his stray shirt again and wiped your hands off before tossing it and the bottle to the other side of the bed to give you your hands free. George’s flushed skin welcomed your warm hands and you caressed his waist and the flesh of his ass and you slid the length of the strap-on between his cheeks. 

“Get comfy, angel.” 

George slid his arms back underneath him to be propped up on his forearms, bent at the waist, with you between his spread knees. He shuffled back towards you a little so he could feel the slick jelly dildo poking against him. 

“Okay.” he said. 

You held the base of the toy between thumb and forefinger, sliding it teasingly between his cheeks as you asked, “Softer or rougher today, baby?”

“Whatever you want.” George replied, his voice strained with anticipation. 

You tisked at his response, “And yet I’m not the one getting it up the ass.” 

George smiled into the reflection of the mirror and he fisted your pillow underneath his arms as you lined up with his asshole. He took a routine few deep breaths and then you were slipping inside him slowly. Watching the both of you through the mirror, George could also see how his mouth dropped open and his face screwed up at the tight fit and he sunk his teeth into his forearm through the ache that it pushed through his insides. 

“Ah, fuck.” he squeaked. 

“Good boy.” you held his waist snugly to hold him steady as you guided the strap into him deeper, nice and slowly, “You’re so fucking tight, angel. Always makes me really have to push here.” 

When you reached about halfway, you stopped and leaned down to kiss his spine and your hands caressed his waist comfortingly as he adjusted to the size. George groaned and tried to push back on you some more. 

“Aww, you want it that bad, huh?” you chuckled, slapping your hand down against his ass as you sat back on your knees proudly, having him bent over in front of you, “Want me to give you more?”

“Yes, ma’am.” George mumbled. “Please.”

“Yeah? You’re so desperate for dick, aren’t you, angel? Just begging me to push it all the way in and fill your tiny little asshole right up.”

George withered at your words, “Oh God, please.” 

You eased in deeper, painfully slowly, and George’s grip tightened on the pillow as he stared with a narrowed strained expression into the mirror. You spanked him again before speaking, “Baby boy just needs to get fucked properly, isn’t that right? Coming crying to me to give him what he wants…to be filled up and fucked until he can’t think straight…called a pretty boy…darling little angel…my perfect little slut.” 

“Yeah, I’m your slut.” George whimpered, his biceps bulging as he strained against you and pushed his ass back right up against your body so the strap was tucked all the way inside him. His withering moan was heavenly and you slapped your hand down hard against his blushing flesh, a big handsome man turned to putty in your hands. 

“Beg for it.” you ordered. 

You met his eyes in the mirror as he stared at you longingly, a sweet desperate pout on his lips and he gave you a little whine before speaking angelically, “Please, miss, you own me. Please fuck me like your good little whore. I’ll be so good for you, baby, please, I need you to fuck me until I can’t think straight.”

The sharp slap of your hand against his ass made him wince and gasp. 

“Good boy.”

Another spank. 

“Good fucking boy.”

Another. 

George pushed back against you desperately, starting to fuck himself on the strap, “Please, please, please, gimme that dick.”

You gave him one more hard spank before you were grabbing the blushing flesh of his ass in both hands and yanking him back onto the toy. 

“Fuck.” George grunted, his mouth falling open as you started to fuck him slowly. His eyes literally rolled and he dropped his face into the crook of his arm. “Oh, fuck-” 

“There you go, angel.” you spanked him again as you thrusted into him steadily, “This what you needed?”

“Yes, ma’am.” he responded obediently. 

“Good boy.” 

Your hands gripped his waist as you gave him tauntingly slow, deep curling thrusts that had his hands gripping the pillow tightly. George’s trembling little moans had you biting back your proud smirk, pushing into his tense body until your hips were pressed right up against the curve of his ass again and again. 

“Feels so fucking good.” he exhaled. 

“Yeah?” you kept your slow pace going, “But you’re not gonna cum until I tell you to, isn’t that right?”

George groaned as you pushed deeply into him, “Yes, ma’am.”

You couldn’t help but start to thrust into him a little faster, paired nicely with a nice sharp spank to his blushing ass and you stared down at how it jigged with each nudge of your hips against it. George moaned into the pillow and kept himself in perfect place for you, the perfect angle for you to watch the thick dildo disappear inside him completely with each thrust. The lube squelched filthily between you and his skin was shimmering in it, keeping your motions gliding easily no matter how tight he gripped around the strap. 

“Can I touch my cock?” George asked, his words muffled by the pillow. 

You spanked him again, “No.” 

“Oh.” he whimpered in reply, smothering his face into the crook of his arm. 

“Am I not fucking you well enough, angel?” you taunted him with a voice filled with demeaning tones, “Am I not giving you what you want?”

“My God, I want more.” George pleaded. 

You spanked his ass again, “Who’s in charge?”

“You.” 

He squirmed on the bed and spread his legs a little farther apart with a huff. You slapped your hand down on his blushing ass again as you kept your lazy thrusts going, barely giving him enough to cause the bed to creak. In fact, the only sound was the steady squish of the lube and George’s whimpery breaths. 

Finally, 

“Red.”

George mumble of the safeword had you stopping right away and you rubbed your hands up his back comfortingly. 

“I hear you.” you acknowledged, “What happened? Do you want me to pull out?”

“No.” George whined, reaching back to grab your thigh to make sure you stayed tucked deeply inside him, “I just wanna cum.”

“That’s not a reason to use your safeword.” you spanked him harder in punishment, “You can’t use your safeword just because you’re not getting what you want. Last time I checked, you wanted to do whatever I wanted.” 

George groaned heavily into the sheets in frustration, “Sorry, ma’am.”

“Now, was there something serious or were you just being a brat?”

George turned his head and pouted at you through the mirror, “Was just being a brat.”

“Forgot who’s in charge, hm?”

He refused to answer that question. 

“Let me remind you.”

When you pulled out of him, he let out a strained gasp and you left behind his gaping hole that you left like that just to make him ache and squirm. Instead, you got off the bed and walked around to the side, situating yourself to stand right in front of his head and you tangled your hand in the back of his hair to force him closer. 

���Open your mouth.”

George hesitated a moment—knowing what was coming—and he let his eyes raise up your body to your face as he opened his mouth obediently. Drunk on lust, your precision wasn’t great, and the tip of the lubed up dildo hit the corner of his mouth first as you tried to shove it in, smearing lube over his cheek, but he then turned his head slightly to help you get it in properly. The taste of artificial strawberry that came with the unpleasant texture of the excess lube that coated the strap-on made George’s eyebrows furrow and you pulled his mouth down farther around it. He gagged on it when he got only halfway and he tried to pull back but you held his head in place with a secure hand in his hair. 

“Show me what a needy little cockslut you are.” you spoke down to him, “Choke on my dick.” 

He didn’t have much of a choice as you started to thrust the strap into his mouth although he didn’t put up a fight against it either. Instead, from his position on his elbows, George raised a hand up to wrap around the base of the harness to try and control it as much as he could, even as you fucked the wet gags from his throat until he was drooling down his chin. With a furrowed expression of filthy punished bliss, George’s blue eyes raised up your body to your face and you were blessed with the sight of him taking your favourite dildo balls deep into his slobbery mouth. 

“God, fucking look at you.” you exhaled, your pussy absolutely throbbing at the mere sight of him, “You look like a pathetic fucking whore, choking on my strap like a good little toy.” 

George moaned weakly for you, tears brimming in his eyes as you fucked the dildo against the back of his throat and he gagged loudly around it. You pulled it back to give him a bit of a break to catch his breath while you smeared the faux cockhead against his spitty lips as he licked them breathlessly. But seconds later, you were pushing back into his mouth and tugging him down again onto the strap, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip at the gurgling sound he made as you filled his throat with your essence of power. He took over for you as he grew used to the motions and he drooled down the toy with ungraceful bobs of his head. 

As he did so, George dropped his hand from the base of the dildo to set a gentle hand against your inner thigh, only finding your skin damp in the process. He pulled off the strap with a faint wet pop and spoke up to you, “Are you okay?”

Ignoring his innocent question since you knew he had just found out how damn horny you were from the way you were literally dripping down your thighs, you lifted your right leg up off the ground and tossed it over his shoulder, tugging his head closer to the edge of the bed by his hair, “Clean it up.”

George dropped his tongue out to drag messily over your glistening pussy - something he had never done with you before. The act always felt too adulterous to him but in that moment, he was way too horny to care and he was ready to do anything to get you to fuck him again. His tongue had you withering and your body jumped slightly at his warm wet touch, even as he licked up your inner thighs and suckled on your damp skin. You rubbed your pussy against his mouth and George groaned against you, lapping at your folds and suckling on them greedily to taste you as much as he could. 

Still standing at the side of the bed, when you tried to adjust your position your leg behind his shoulder ended up bonking him in the back of the head. You gently rubbed your hand through his hair over the spot with a quick, “Shit, sorry.”

George barely pulled away from you as he replied with a hurried, “That’s okay. That’s okay.”

You stared down at him with his face between your legs and the thick purple dildo standing up tall from your harness and hindering the view off half of his face. But he kept his eyes on you right back with his long lashes fluttering slowly in pleasure as he ate you out hungrily and savoured the taste of you on his tongue. He swore you were the best thing he had ever tasted and he moaned against your cunt with his nose bumping against your clit, ignoring the ache of his neck at the slightly awkward angle just so he could smother himself in you. 

“God, look at my good boy.” you exhaled, your fingers tightening in the back of his hair, “So fuckin’ pussy whipped.” 

George’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at your words, his soft moan against you proof of just how much he was enjoying it, and he shook his head slightly to get his tongue deeper inside you, ready to please. Your heart was racing but you refused to show it, desperate to keep your higher ground above him just how he liked it. 

With your hand in his hair, you pulled him away from your pussy and he separated reluctantly with a wet slurp, peering up at you with glistening lips. You reached down with your free hand to smack his cheek a few times, speaking to him sweetly, “Look at my pretty boy with his face covered in my pussy juice just like he’s meant to.” 

“You taste so fucking good, mommy.” George breathed, licking his lips. 

“Yeah?” you pushed two fingers into his mouth and he let you pry him open so you could bend down slightly and spit against his eager tongue, “Aren’t you a lucky fucking boy then.”

“Yes, ma’am.” he agreed easily.

You took hold of the strap and carefully guided it over his wet lips and over his cheek, rubbing his face with it even as his eyes fluttered closed and he groaned filthily. His lips were pouted and cheeks were flushed pink and you slapped the heavy jelly dildo against his face a few times. 

“Kiss it.” you ordered. 

George puckered out his lips and turned his head slightly to deliver a kiss to the head of your strap and as you rubbed it over his mouth a few more times, he gave it a few more kisses. 

“Open your mouth.” 

He did, and you slid it back into his mouth against his tongue and he gladly moaned around it, starting to suck it off right away. With shallow bobs of his head, he was already starting to gag on it and his fingers wrapped in the leather harness that was snug around your thigh. A single tear trickled down his cheek and he stared up at you longingly, desperate for praise. 

“My pretty boy.” you swiped the tear away with your thumb and held him tenderly by the head, “You look so fucking pretty with these tears on your face from my dick.”

George smothered himself down on it some more, gagging loudly around it, and you scratched your fingers gently through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. 

You asked him sweetly, “Gonna be a good little boy for me and let me fuck your ass?”

He pulled off the strap to answer breathlessly, “Yes, ma’am.”

You took your leg back from over his shoulder so you were standing properly at the side of the bed and you gave his cheek a few little pats before bending down to take his lips with yours in a filthy kiss. George honestly whimpered thankfully at the treat, kissing you back insistently for only a few seconds before you were breaking away from him and returning to your rightful spot at the foot of the bed. 

“Right up on your hands and knees now, handsome.” you instructed while you shuffled up behind him again.  

George arranged himself without complaint and as he did so, you grabbed the bottle of lube again and reapplied some generously to your dildo to make up for the prior application that was wasted by the faux blowjob you just made him give you. Again, his shirt was used to wipe off your hand after you stroked the strap in lube and then you were angling the head right up against his puckered hole. 

“Please.” George exhaled. “Please, I need it so bad, miss.” 

You eased back inside him slowly and he let out a long trembling moan right along with it until you were fully inside him. He then received three hard spanks by your hand before you were grabbing his waist and starting to fuck him again. 

“Ugh, fuck.” he withered, fisting the sheets under his straight arms. 

“Good boy.” you praised, spanking him again, “That’s my good boy.”

George’s wavering moan was shameless and it only grew louder as you tangled a hand in the back of his hair and yanked his head back, making him whine out to the walls of your room. He reached a hand up to smack flat against the wall behind your bed, trying to push himself back into your every thrust, pleasure smeared all over his face. 

You propped one foot up onto the mattress to fuck him deeper, really giving it to him until the bed was creaking underneath you. With another spank, you reached underneath to grab his dick and gave it a gentle squeeze before wrapping your hand around his balls and giving them a little tug. George’s tight grunt from his throat was mixed pleasurably with pain and his eyes screwed up as you literally had him by the hair and the balls. 

“You’re not going anywhere.” you reminded him. 

“No, ma’am.” he answered squeakily, “I’m yours.”

“That’s right. These big, heavy balls are mine.” 

George let out the sweetest moan as he pushed back against you and you gripped him a little tighter, fucking him strongly until the headboard was hitting the wall in steady thuds. The whimpers tumbled from George’s throat and it wasn’t long before he was unable to hold himself up anymore and he slumped down onto his forearms against the bed. You let go of his hair to let his head drop between his arms and you spanked him right across his blushing ass instead, watching yourself fuck him strongly. 

“I know you need this.” you spoke down to him, “I know you can’t live without my cock in your ass.”

“Uh huh.” George whined. 

“You might like pussy but you can’t fucking live without my cock up your ass, huh?”

“No, ma’am.” George agreed easily, his face screwed up in pleasure, “I’m yours. I’m all fucking yours.” 

You spanked his ass hard, “Tell me you’re my little cockslut.”

“I’m your little cockslut. I’m your slut.” George cried out. “Fuck!” 

“That’s right.” you slid both of your hands up his back and pressed them down against his shoulder blades, forcing him to slide flat on the bed so he was bent right over at the waist and his arms wrapped around your pillow to smother his face in it. He moaned more freely that way and you wished you had a mirror in front of him so you could see the way his eyes rolled at how deep you got. 

“Who’s my good boy?” you asked sternly. 

“I am.” George answered shakily, words muffled by the pillow, “I’m your good boy.” 

You held him there by the back of his neck, spanking his ass with your other hand again. The headboard was hitting the wall loud enough that you might have wanted to be worried if your neighbours could hear but your only priority in that moment was to make the man who had your heart cum completely hands free. 

His biceps were massive like that, only flexed more with how he gripped the pillow in his arms so tightly, tensing his entire body so much so that you could feel him getting tighter around the strap that pounded away inside him. You spanked him again just to spur on more of those angelic whimpers that he muffled into your pillow and his knees pressed harder into the mattress to try and escape your overwhelming gift. You only made you grab his balls again in a snug grasp, keeping him in place with a squealing whine out of his throat until he suddenly went silent. His right hand flew out from under the pillow and he slammed it hard against the headboard, wrapping his slender fingers around the white wood until his knuckles nearly blended into the paint colour. 

“Cum for me.” you ordered, still fucking into him at that consistent pace, “Cum for me, angel.” 

George could barely breathe as he let out a strained “ohh-” into your pillow. He shuddered as he came, gaping into the silk pillowcase with the most erotic expression you wished he could have blessed you with a front row view of. His asshole gripped right up around the strap but you just grabbed his waist to help thrust into him steadily through it regardless, especially with how he trembled. 

“Good boy.” you praised richly, “Good boy, Georgie.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” George heaved for breath as he lifted his face out of your pillow and turned to his left to look in the full length mirror again, being met with his erotic pose and flushed tear streaked face. “Shit.” 

You rubbed your hands warmly over his back and left a gentle kiss to his spine before slowly pulling out of him. He audibly winced at the sudden emptiness and he carefully rolled over onto his back to rest against your pillows with his arms draped above his head, his chest rising and falling heavily. His legs were spread slightly and you were positioned between them still, earning the ethereal sight of him draped out naked and blissful on your bed with his skin blushed pink with arousal and streaks of creamy white scattered over his abs and down the shaft of his still-hard cock. That ring around the base was gripping him for dear life and you ran a gentle fingertip around it, watching how it made him flinch with a soft grunt. 

“Beautiful man.” you breathed, licking your lips as your eyes soaked him all in. 

George pushed a hand through his frazzled brown hair and offered you a weak smile in return. You reached for his shirt still tossed to the side of the bed and you used the fabric to wipe up the creamy white mess from his abs and around his dick all while he watched you intently, hands tucked behind his head. He then reached down and carefully slid the cockring off his softening dick with a heavy sigh, “I’m starving.” 

You chuckled lightly and gave his waist a squeeze, asking through your own breathlessness, “Me too. What are you feeling like? Pizza?” 

“Yeah, that sounds so fucking good right now.” he agreed easily. 

“Okay. I can order some.” you offered, “Do you wanna get cleaned up a little in the meantime?”

“Yeah.” George started to make a move to sit up and his light wince had you smiling and dusting a kiss to his shoulder. 

You watched him disappear into the bathroom, leaving you with the slippery cockring in hand to be in charge of washing up the toys while he washed up himself. First, you ordered the pizza so while it was being prepared, you had time to tidy up. You threw out the empty bottle of lube and dumped your now-warm unfinished drinks from the living room and began to scrub the used toys in the kitchen sink. Washed and dried, the purple dildo rested heavy in your hand and you couldn’t help but strap it back onto the harness, letting it dangle straight out, proudly, from your body as you muddled around your apartment in the nude to get things in order. There was some sense of pride and power about it. 

After growing familiar with each other, George felt perfectly comfortable showering at your place and he did so that late afternoon in the privacy of your bathroom. You listened to his muffled voice singing a little off-key in the shower and part of you ached to join him; lather him up in your body wash and feel every crevice of his body under the warm water. So you distracted yourself from your impossible thoughts by picking up his discarded clothes from your bedroom floor and you folded them, placing his phone on your bedside table for him to retrieve later. When you set it down, the wallpaper of his girlfriend stared back at you; some professional photoshoot she did from one of her modeling gigs. You stared at it blankly until his screen went black again. 

The sound of the bathroom door opening had you moving away from the presence of his phone and you looked over as he walked into your bedroom with your towel hanging low around his waist. He sent you a small smile which you returned and he slid past you, his eyes caught by the black leather harness and purple dildo that still sat pretty around your waist. His little smirk was unmissable and he grabbed his underwear from where you had folded it and placed it on top of your dresser. 

“Still wearing it?” he nodded towards the strap.

“Yeah.” you sat on the side of your bed, watching how the jelly dildo wobbled for a moment, and you replied to him, “Makes me feel all powerful.” 

“Try having a dick 24/7.” he teased as he dropped your towel to leave himself bare in the light of the sunset streaming in through your window. “No wonder why men think they can rule the world.” 

“I dunno…” you said, shamelessly watching him pull his underwear up his legs, “I can feel equally powerful as a woman sometimes too.”

“You are incredibly powerful,” George complimented before picking up your towel from the floor, “Sorry about using your towel, by the way. I was covered in lube and I seriously needed a shower.”

You shrugged, “No problem. What’s mine is yours.” 

He sent you a smile on his way back out of the bedroom and you watched him disappear towards the bathroom again. You pressed your fist against your chest for a moment with how strong and burning your heartbeat felt in moments like that where for a second it felt like a hint of domestic life with the man who had your heart and soul. 

Your phone rang to alert you that the pizza arrived and you let the delivery driver into the building so he could bring it to the door. When he knocked, George called out to you that he was going to answer it so you waited in your nakedness in the safety of your room. Seconds later, George joined you with the steaming pizza box in hand, still dressed in only his underwear, and you scooted backwards on your bed so he could join you. 

The two of you made a little pile of pillows against the headboard to rest against comfortably and you retrieved your laptop from under your bed so you could find something to watch on Netflix while you ate. You selected a choice together while George opened the pizza box and pulled his first slice from the pie, holding it carefully with both hands as he leaned back against your pillows. 

“I’ll pay you back for half.” he said through his first bite. 

“No, don’t be silly.” you replied without looking up from your screen, “My treat.”

“You sure?” he asked. “I don’t mind.” 

You turned to look at him over your shoulder, “You’re not paying for me to fuck you.” 

He scoffed, “Well don’t put it like that.” 

You pulled a smile and focused back on the Netflix home screen and your intentful scrolling, “Isn’t she going to wonder why you’re not home for dinner?”

George shrugged, “She’ll be out with friends anyway.” 

You didn’t answer. 

“Why?” he pressed. 

You shrugged and selected the next episode of the show you had started together before resting back against the pillows alongside him, “Just curious.” 

“Did you want me to go?” 

Your head whipped over to look at him quickly, “God, no. Not at all. I love it when you’re here.”

It was hard to hold back the strong emotion and adoration behind your words. George just met your smile for a beat before turning back to his pizza and the opening scene of the TV show. 

He shifted in place slightly and let out a little strained sigh, peaking your attention back over to him. He answered your silent inquiry with a light chuckle and a, “It kinda hurts to sit.”

You licked away a grin and served yourself a slice of pizza.

As the episode progressed and the pizza grew smaller as you ate, you found yourself naturally leaning towards each other on your bed until your heads were nearly resting together. You couldn’t help yourself but glance over at him discreetly, catching him watching the show so intently that his eyebrows had the slightest furrow to them. He looked so cute like that and you could have stared at him for hours with just as much interest as any TV show you played. You just craved him so strongly in every way possible. 

His low chuckle drew your attention to your laptop again, noting the steamy long-awaiting kiss shared between the two main characters behind the swell of emotional music. George tisked, “Took long enough.”

You couldn’t help yourself, “Too bad he hasn’t divorced his wife yet.”

George countered casually, “He’s creating a whole new church to do so, that’s how dedicated he is for this woman. Give the guy some time. You can’t create a whole new religion in an afternoon.” 

You wondered if your discreet meaning had just gone right over his head and you analyzed his face as he watched the progression of the scene at your side. Sensing your stare, he turned to look at you too. 

“What?” he asked. 

Your mind swirled with all sorts of sappy confessions of your undying love for him, but the only thing that made it past your brain’s filters was a messy unimportant discussion question of, “Do you think Henry VIII ever took it up the ass?”

George snorted, “Maybe.”

“Anne Boleyn here seems like a boss bitch, to be honest. I could see her pegging the king.”

“Would you?”

“Peg the king?” you raised an eyebrow in his direction.

George looked back at you, “Mhm?”

“Only if you were the king.”

His lips perked up at the corner in a cheeky little grin at your response and he reached over to grab the purple dildo that was still secured around your waist and he jokingly aimed to put you closer by it while his face leaned in towards yours. You gladly let him kiss you, feeling those same swells of emotion that had been encapsulated in the music of the scene you had been watching. Leaning into each other, you raised your hand up to slide around the side of his neck to keep his lips on yours as you shared slow passionate kisses that filled your insides with butterflies. 

You turned towards him a little more, determined to savour the feeling of his kisses as they were often few and far between - especially unwarranted like this - and yet they were your favourite part of your little situationship. You could taste the pizza on his tongue and the heat from the shower still lingering on his skin and although the scent of his cologne was now mostly replaced with the scent of your own body wash, it only made you realize how much better it smelt on him. You were completely enamoured with him. 

Greedily, your hand slid down his bare chest and around his waist, feeling the smoothness of his skin and the tension of his muscles with his body turned towards you the slightest amount. George was leaning back against the headboard and plentiful pillows comfortably, letting you lead your sloppy kisses that took precedence over the scene still playing on your laptop. He pulled away from you to kiss down your chest instead and his large hand guided one of your breasts to his mouth so he could take your nipple between his lips. You shifted beside him to give him a better angle and he tongued at your nipple and sucked on it until it was hard, humming pleasantly against your chest before pulling back with a wet pop. 

“Haven’t had enough, have you?” you breathed, sliding your hand into the back of his hair as he took your opposite nipple in his mouth for a quick suck and then he peppered impatient kisses up your neck.

“Mm mm.” he shook his head faintly and nipped at your earlobe to make you shiver. 

You pulled away from him for a moment just long enough to pause the episode and then close your laptop and set it and the pizza box back on the ground all while George adjusted himself with a giddy smile. When you turned back to him, your hand drifted up his leg and over the front of his snug briefs to rub the obvious shape of his cock hidden underneath while your lips moved in to meet his again. He moaned softly into your mouth at your teasing touches and right away was making a move to push his underwear down his legs. Permitting it, you let him drop them off the side of the bed before he was grabbing the strap again and pulling you closer by the harness. 

Your lips met again in messy tongue-led kisses and you wrapped your hand around his semi-soft dick to help him get harder, gently caressing the underside of the head with the pad of your thumb. He shuttered at your touch and held you close by the back of your neck, naturally spreading his legs wider for you. 

“Good boy.” you praised into his mouth between passionate kisses, “I’m gonna make you feel so good. Leave those pretty legs spread for me.” 

George licked his lips as you pulled away from him and he bent his legs up and spread them wider on your bed while he watched you shift over to your bedside table and grab the bottle of lube again and something from your drawer. You set the clean prostate vibrator between your lips while you popped the cap on the bottle of lube and squirted some onto your fingers under the impatient eye of the man with you. He stroked himself lazily and you offered him a generous squirt onto the head of his cock to help him out…his gentle hum was thanks enough. 

You then smeared your fingers around his asshole, reapplying the lube that had been washed away in the shower, and he winced faintly at the feeling of your warm touch against his sensitive muscle. It was still slightly gaping from your previous fucking and you only slid the tips of two fingers inside just to make sure he was lubricated sufficiently. George’s soft whine was impatient and angelic and you pulled the silicone vibrator from your mouth with your free hand so you could lean down and capture his lips in a kiss instead. He reached for you adoringly, still stroking his dick as he held your lips on his with his other hand, kissing you like his life depended on it and it made you dizzy with lust. You wanted him forever. 

After a few moments, you pulled away from his lips to focus on your goal. With another pump of lube to the end of the vibrator, you smeared it in enough to cover the ribbed shaft and then angled it carefully against his glistening hole. George shifted a bit farther down against the pillows and spread his legs a little wider, watching with his bottom lip between his teeth as you slowly eased the toy inside him. His muscles hugged the silicone erotically, stretching over each ridge and curve until it was tucked securely in place. The flared base had a short arm that reached along the length of his perineum and nestled right behind his balls so when you turned it on, the steady vibrations covered him completely. 

George’s face literally withered in pleasure, eyes rolling and mouth falling agape, and he stared up at you with that lustful expression that had your insides fluttering at the mere sight of him. Your one finger rested against the base to make sure the vibrator was secure in place, watching his physical reaction from your position on your knees between his spread legs. 

“How's that?” you asked. 

“Intense,” George exhaled, “Good.” 

Glancing down to his hand still wrapped around the base of his cock, you stated, “You’re getting really hard.” 

As if that were a reminder, George gave himself a few lazy pumps, “Yeah.” 

You licked your lips, staring at his dick shamelessly as you held the vibrator in place, going completely heart eyes over the sight of how big it was in his large hand, glistening in lube and already pearling precum from the swollen head. With a nudge to his wrist, you got him to let go so you could have a clear view of his entire cock and how thick and heavy it looked, angled right up against his abdomen. You just wanted it so badly. Honestly, you could have cried. 

George squirmed slightly from the vibrations inside him and you gave his dick a little pet with the palm of your hand, earning a soft moan from his chest. The pad of your index finger rubbed taunting just under the head in that sensitive spot and his dick flinched naturally from your feather soft touches. 

“I want you inside me.” you breathed. 

George hummed tightly, answering just as quietly with a blissful waver to his voice, “We can’t.” 

“Why not?” you pressed. 

“You know why not. I can’t risk anything.” 

“She won’t know.” 

“She might.”

Still gently rubbing his cock with your fingertips, you pressed the button at the bottom of the vibrator with your other hands, making it increase in intensity. George’s head dropped back against the pillows with a tight groan, his legs trying to curl up towards his chest if it weren’t for you sitting pretty between them. 

You weren't done trying, letting your feelings for him cloud your judgement and the unwritten rules of your pre-agreed upon situationship. “What’s she gonna do? Whine to her friends because she can’t satisfy her boyfriend so he found someone who could?” 

George groaned your name through a sigh. 

“What?” you answered innocently, loving the way he writhed against your bed just to feel more of those vibrations in all the right places. You had him right where you wanted him, under your complete control, and maybe you got too into that, taking his moment of submission to get a step above him, “Bet she doesn’t even know how to treat you…how to really take dick. She probably just lays there.” 

He repeated your name firmly as if trying to get you to stop but his tone sounded much more pleasurable than annoyed thanks to the toy tucked inside him. 

Your finger trailed down the length of his dick slowly, taunting him, “I’m right here, I could just sink down on your big thick cock so easily.”

He whimpered your name again, sinking his nails into your thighs faintly with his legs spread wide on either side of you. 

“Your poor dick just wants some attention, look at him, he’s so swollen and angry.” you pouted innocently as you wrapped your hand around it to lift it up off his abdomen and gave him a few faint strokes. “So yummy.” 

He groaned your name shakily once more. 

You stroked his dick slowly and tauntingly, drifting your gaze up to his face again to note how his expression withered from the vibrator still buzzing away inside him, his cheeks pink and eyebrows furrowed prettily. With a sultry smile, you asked him, “Doesn’t my pretty angel want to know what a good pussy can feel like?”

“Ohh-“ George whined, staring right back at you from where he was draped against your bed and plentiful pillows. 

“My perfect boy deserves a real woman. Gotta know what one feels like at least once in your life.” 

“Mm-“ George’s hips ground upwards and in doing so he thrusted into your hand the slightest bit. He grabbed your thighs tighter, especially as your hand started to twist your motions over the thick shaft of his cock. His eyes were a little glassy with lust and he kept licking and biting his lips impatiently for more of that addictive pleasure. 

“Don’t you wanna feel how tight and warm my pussy is for you?” you asked softly, pulling his hand between your legs and under the purple dildo and leather harness so his fingers grazed over your wet folds, “I’ll let you fuck me raw so you can feel every little inch of it. All for you.”

“Oh my God.” George breathed shakily, his voice trembling, “You’re so wet.”

“Thanks to you.” you replied smoothly. “You wanna feel it? Want me to sink down on this perfect fucking cock of yours so you can get a taste of what a real woman can do?” 

George literally whimpered at the mere thought, trying to keep himself composed despite the intense vibrations that were still sending warm shockwaves through his body. He gaped up at you behind furrowed brows, digging his heels into the mattress to try and work through the pleasure that was building inside him. Still stroking his cock with one hand while the other forced him to get a feel of how soaked and ready you were for him, you didn’t let up no matter how much he groaned and squirmed, even when he reached his free hand to try and grab your wrist to slow you down. 

“Answer me.” you ordered, stroking his cock faster. “Yes or no? Do you want my pussy?”

“Yes.” George squeaked, “Yes, mommy, please, I want it.” 

You shoved his hands away from your body completely and he held them obediently in mid-air as you tossed one leg over his lap and then his other and he watched you with wide eyes, grinding down against the bed as the vibrator hit all the right spots. With a gentle slap to his cheek, you then shoved two fingers in his mouth past his parted lips and he gagged around them slightly but didn’t protest. 

“That’s my good fucking boy.” you praised through your teeth. “Letting me use you like my little toy, huh?”

“Yes, ma’am.” George spoke through your fingers and his hands took to your hips, his once obvious hesitation was replaced with horny impatience as he tried to pull you down on him. 

“Such an impatient little slut.” you tisked. “Hold your dick for me and beg for it.”

George reached down to grab hold of his cock and he angled it up for you as you hovered above him at just a distance for him to graze the head between your slick lips. It was hard to stay focused with the vibrator still buzzing inside him but he kept wanting more, more, more…so he obeyed you, speaking his desires through your fingers still in his mouth, “Please, miss, I want your pussy. I want your perfect little pussy on my dick so fucking bad. Let me be your toy…wanna be a good boy for you.” 

The moment you sank down enough to let the head of his cock slip inside the tight confines of your cunt, his eyes literally rolled. He moaned heavenly through your bedroom, drooling around your fingers, and he grabbed your waist to try to slow you down. But you were a woman on a mission after having waited so long for that exact moment that you didn’t have an ounce of patience. He was so big that the stretch ached between your legs and over your hips and you had to pull your fingers from his mouth to set your hands down flat against his shoulders to support yourself through it, digging your nails into his toned skin. 

“Oh my fucking God.” George whimpered, peering down his naked body to watch how his dick disappeared inside you, “You’re so fucking tight.”

“What do you say?” you asked sternly as your ass met his thighs and you were stuffed full of him, pinching his cheeks in your hand.

“Thank you, miss.” George responded shakily. 

Drunk on your unbelievable ability to convince him to engage in such adulterous acts, you used the leverage from his shoulders to start to bounce on his lap. His hands found your waist again with a tight groan that fell from his chest and his face screwed up in ecstasy. 

“Thank you.” he repeated, strained and pretty. 

With the harness still strapped securely around your hips, the firm jelly dildo bounced in the air in time with your motions and the clap of your skin against his was arguably the best thing you had ever heard. You swore you could feel the reverberations of the vibrator up through his balls and cock and deep into your cunt but maybe that was just you trembling with adrenaline and lust, overwhelmed with the reality of your situation. He was so big inside you and the balance between that and the relief of finally getting what you wanted brought honest tears to your eyes.

He sounded even better when you rode him than when you pegged him: a beautiful symphony of lustful groans and adoring whimpers and intense breaths that only showed your hold over him if nothing else. 

He was a mess of ‘oh my God’ and intelligible sounds that had your pussy gripping tighter around him naturally, forcing his head to toss back against the pillows as he gripped your hips pleadingly and dug his nails right into your skin. The sharp pinch of his grip only spurred you on, desperate to make him completely lose himself to you like he never had before. It seemed to be working too because soon he was growing quieter and his face was spread with ecstasy, barely able to keep his eyes open, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside you. 

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum.” he whimpered. 

“Already?” you taunted, sliding a hand around his throat to pin his head down against the pillows to choke him a little, keeping up your dizzying bounces, “Filthy boy. Wanna cum inside me?”

“Oh, God, yeah, can I?” he withered as if he had been hoping for it but afraid to ask. 

“Of course, baby boy. I’d love for you to cum in me.” you cooed, “Show me who I belong to. Fill me up.”

George’s hands on your hips yanked you right down on him and held you there, his biceps bulging as he held you against your attempt to keep going but he certainly was stronger than you. With a trembling moan and eyes rolling with pure euphoria, George ground up against you slightly to cum as deep as he could into your dripping cunt. His entire body shuttered and the shower of moans and gasps that spilled from his lips was intoxicating to you. 

“Good boy.” you praised him loudly through his orgasm, unable to hide the beaming grin that spread across your face at the feeling of the first spurt releasing inside you, “Good fucking boy, gimme all that cum. Every last fucking drop is mine.”

“Yes, mommy.” George whimpered tightly, “It’s yours.” 

The buzzing toy was still tucked inside him and, now incredibly sensitive, George winced intensely at the sensation. You reached behind you to get between his legs and turn it up one more notch. 

“Oh shit!” George squealed out, trying to push you off of him as he writhed against your bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

“Is that too much?” you taunted. 

“Please, miss, I can’t take it!” George stumbled out, how voice wavering and stumbling over his words, falling into a pathetic mess of whimpers and cries. 

“Oh, my pretty angel can’t take all this pleasure, hm?” you lifted up from his lap, letting his dick slip out of you and fall against his thigh, glistening in white cream and your own arousal, and you grabbed his hand to force him to touch you. Your body dripped his cum right back out and onto his fingers and then you wrapped his hand around the dildo still strapped to your body to start to slick it up in his own natural lubrication. 

“I can’t.” George panted through a tight groan, “I fucking can’t, baby.”

You slid off his lap and back between his spread and trembling legs and you grabbed his thigh to flip him over onto his stomach. He moved for you like he weighed nothing, perfectly content in doing whatever you wanted of him even when it felt like so much that he was close to tears. Laying flat on your bed, George ground against your mattress as his arms encircled your pillow again, smothering his moans into the fabric as his legs trembled. You spared him with a click of the vibrator to turn it off and he was gasping with relief to the walls of your bedroom, heaving for air. But you worked quickly to slide the toy out of his ass and barely gave him a second to process the sudden emptiness before you were stuffing him with the strap again. 

George literally mewled at the feeling.

With your legs straddling his, he was kept nice and tight and right away you were starting to thrust into him messily. He whimpered generously and you leaned down over top of him to grab his wrists and pull them out from under your pillow so you could pin them down on top instead, holding him down while your hips shoved roughly against his ass in rhythmic strokes. 

“Oh God.” George whined loudly, bunching his hands into fists from where you had them held. 

The dildo was lubed up in his own cum and you fucked it back into him roughly in long deep strokes that had his eyes fluttering shut in filthy bliss as you fucked the moans from his chest. You were going so hard with it that the bed was starting to hit the wall in time with your thrusts and George’s moans were only getting louder and tighter. 

“Who do you belong to?” you asked strongly, biting your lip at the feeling of his cum leaking back out of you and down your inner thighs. 

“You, mommy.” he answered easily. “I belong to you!”

“That’s right.” you spoke down to him, your voice laced with taunting lust. “That means I can show up to your house in the middle of the night and rip your fucking clothes off and fuck you any time I want, isn’t that right?”

“Fuck.” George groaned pitchily at the threat, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Yeah?” you spoke through your teeth and gripped his wrists tighter, really forcing yourself to fuck him harder with precise curls of your hips in time with each hard jab, “My little slut just wants me to use him whenever I want?”

George cried out shakily, barely getting out an “uh huh” without his voice breaking. His eyes couldn’t stay open and part of you wished you could have a better angle to see his face as you fucked him flat into your bed. He only got louder and although he tried to smother his noises into your pillow, his pleasure was obvious.

“Jesus Christ—” George sobbed out, “You’re hitting my fucking prostate dead fucking on, baby…shit!”

“That’s my good boy.” you smirked to yourself proudly, “Give into it for me. I want you to cum again.” 

George’s large hands flexed stiffly from where you had his wrists pinned down, his fingers stretching out like starfish in need of something to grip onto. 

“Come on, angel, you got one more in you, I know it.” you encouraged, “Show me who really owns you.”

“You.” George choked, quickly followed by some incomprehensible noise that might have sounded to your neighbours like he was in pain but you knew—better than anyone—that it stemmed from nothing but pure, raw, overstimulated pleasure. You had been the only one to ever make him make noises like that after all. He rushed out some incomprehensible sentence in which the only word you could make out was ‘cum’ and then seconds later he was tensing right up around the strap and falling perfectly silent. 

“Good boy.” you praised strongly as he rutted himself against your bed desperately, undoubtedly ruining your sheets in yet another round of cum but you certainly didn’t mind. 

George was gasping and writhing underneath you as you slowed down so as to not overwhelm him too much. It was that balance of pleasure and pain he liked but you never wanted to overstep any possible boundaries. This was close, however. 

You leaned down to kiss his neck and his shoulder and you let his wrists go so you could sit back on your knees and then slowly pull out of him for the last time that evening. His little hum when you left him empty had you caressing his ass tenderly and you kissed the bottom of his spine comfortingly. 

“Such a good boy for me.” you whispered, running your hands up and down his back lovingly to help ease him out of that intense session, “How was that?”

“Crazy.” George exhaled and then let out a tired laugh, “Fuck.”

“Done for today?” you asked. 

He made a move to roll over so you shifted off of him to let him but he grabbed your arm so you couldn’t go far, making one simple request with a tug of the harness around your waist, “Take this off. I want you to sit on my face.”

Your eyes widened in surprise but you didn’t question it, hurriedly unbuckling the leather harness to drop it and the attached dildo to the floor as George scooted farther down your bed on his back, giving you room to soon toss a leg over his head. 

“You sure this is okay?” you asked quietly. 

He was still breathless from your very eventful afternoon but he nodded and grabbed your thighs to guide you down onto his mouth, promising, “Very.”

His eager tongue met the soft skin of your inner thighs first and he licked up the droplets of his own cum that were leaking down, adding open mouthed kisses to the mix just to have you shuttering at the teasing touches of his mouth. He brushed his nose over your pussy first and then guided you a little closer to glide his tongue right between your folds, ending with a little suckle to your clit. You were well past turned on after a full afternoon of pleasing him and ignoring your own ache that he barely had to touch you and you were already so responsive - not to mention that this was the first day he had ever touched you like this. Usually it was always all about him. 

Your hands grasped the headboard with a shaky sigh, almost afraid to look at him as you chose to stare at the wall in front of you instead. George’s tongue helped itself to your body and he started to eat you out sloppily, right away encouraging you to start to rock against his mouth slightly. He moaned against you and pressed his fingers into the flesh of your thighs a little tighter to settle you farther down on his face. You were nervous that you were going to hurt him if you put too much weight on his head but he didn’t seem to care. He seemed insistent that he be taken up entirely by you and your body. 

“Fuck.” George had to pull back to breathe for a second, still breathless from his catered evening, and he kissed your thighs again before speaking up to you, “You still taste so fucking good—maybe even better—with my cum dripping out of you.” 

“Holy shit.” you withered. You could dish the dirty talk but taking it was new and it turned you into a flustered mess. You had only imagined him saying such things to you that now, having it as reality, felt so surreal. 

You finally permitted yourself to look down at him between your legs as he returned his mouth to your pussy, swearing your eyes molded into the shape of hearts at the sight of his big blue eyes staring right back up at you. The very same eyes you fell a little too hard for. It made your stomach erupt in nauseating butterflies and your hand dropped to his soft hair. 

“Oh my God, George.” you moaned greedily, grinding on his face slightly and your hand in his hair aimed to pull him closer. 

He took your hint and tugged you right down on his mouth, nearly smothering himself in your cunt as he ate you out so heavenly and stared right up into your eyes above him. You couldn’t help the moans that tumbled from your lips, slivers tearing up your spine as you felt that unmissable warmth coiling inside you. It had barely been a minute and you were already so close—all too aroused by him and his perfect body to need any further edging. 

The moment that wave of pleasure tore through you, you dropped your second hand from the headboard to grab his hair too, crying his name out perfectly to the walls of your bedroom that wasn’t unlike those nights you found yourself alone. Now, however, he was there to be blessed by the sound of your voice crying out for him lustfully. Oh God, it made his heart race. He knew he was fucked from that moment on. Metaphorically. You had already covered the physically well before. 

When you finally rolled off of him and slumped backwards against the pillow lined headboard yourself, you were breathing heavily right alongside him, letting the silence of your apartment linger between you. Although your curtains were still open, the sun had long since set and you were restored to the faint light of your bedside table lamp, the darkness of the rest of your apartment leaking through your half closed bedroom door. Neither you nor George really knew what to say after all of that. 

Instead of talking about the lines you crossed, you returned to hostess mode, looking over at him laying flat beside you to ask, “Did you need a towel or something? Water?”

He cracked a small smile at your generosity and he looked up at you in return, his hands resting on his bare chest, “Water would be great. I can just use my shirt you apparently claimed as a cum rag earlier to clean myself up.”

“Sorry.” you chuckled. 

He just gave you a little wink as you slunk off the bed to help yourself to the kitchen. You walked through your modest apartment comfortably in the nude and navigated the kitchen by the light of the city lights leaking through the balcony doors in the adjacent living room. When you returned to your bedroom with two glasses of water, George was already back in his underwear and getting himself under the sheets of your bed. 

“What are you doing?” you asked teasingly as you passed him his glass. 

He thanked you before answering, “I wanna cuddle.” 

You would never say no to that. 

“Let me pee and wash the toys and then I’ll come back.” you said. 

“No,” George pouted and reached for you, linking his finger in yours, “Wash the toys in the morning.”

“Okay.” you didn’t need convincing. You leaned in to kiss his nose and then hurried out of the room to the washroom. 

It didn’t take you very long—mostly because you had the boy who had your heart waiting for you in your bed—and soon you were back in your room and pulling on a pair of underwear and stepping over the plentiful used toys that littered the floor before returning to him. George’s water glass was empty but before you could ask if he wanted more, he was holding up your blankets to welcome you in without a complaint. Smiling, you nestled yourself into bed with him and he wrapped you up in his arms. 

Cuddling after hooking up wasn’t new to either of you but it felt heavier this time…like it carried a weight that neither of you could quite place. With your head on his chest, you listened to his strong heartbeat and caressed your thumb over the smooth skin of his waist, holding him close for as long as you were able. 

George interrupted your quiet moment with a stroke of your hair and a quiet, “So…remind me to buy you a new duvet.” 

“Why?” you asked. 

He reached down to pick up the fabric a bit farther down between thumb and forefinger, showing off the messy white stain on the royal blue material, “I kinda…came on it.” 

You snorted and just cuddled closer to him, “That’s okay.”

“It’s okay that you have my cum stain on your bed for all eternity?” 

“Yeah.” you giggled tiredly, “Reminds me of you. And how I am the only one who can make you cry from pleasure.”

“Oh psh,” George scoffed, “I did not cry.”

“Almost.”

“Almost.” 

Under the blankets, you draped one of your legs over his as if needing to feel him as close as possible, making sure he wasn’t going to leave just yet. He had someone to go home to but once he walked out your door, you would be terribly alone. You hated when he left.

A few quiet minutes passed as you both just appreciated the silence and the comfort of each other to ease you out of your tiring afternoon. It was arguably your favourite part of your situationship because it was the time when you could close your eyes and pretend that what you had was real and not just meaningless sex. Even still, despite the selfishness that filled your heart, you knew the real divide of right and wrong. 

“You can’t fall asleep here.” you whispered into the dark room. 

George sighed softly, confessing sleepily against your hair, “I don’t wanna go.” 

“I don’t want you to go either.” you replied. 

“Let me just stay for a few more minutes?”

You leaned your head back against his shoulder to dust a kiss to his jawline, replying easily with a gentle, “Okay.”

Those few more minutes turned into a few more hours and soon you were blinking awake to the bright light of the morning seeping in through the edges of your curtains, not remembering how or when you actually fell asleep. The first thing that you processed was the weight around your middle and the breath against your back and your heart dropped at the realization that George had fallen asleep in your bed and thus never went home to his girlfriend. Your immediate heart drop stemmed from your instinctual compassionate nature but once your heart took over from your brain, you were filled with a little giddy warmth of realization. He had stayed the night…and he had cuddled you all night. 

Even now, with the rise of the sun and the start of a new day, he was spooning you closely and honestly taking up more than half of your bed as if he had chased you to find your body against his again. It was the most glorious feeling to wake up next to him and you truly wished you could have stayed there forever. He was yours in that moment. That’s how you wanted it to stay. 

You lingered there for a little while longer, drifting in and out of a light sleep,  before you had to get up. Logically, you knew it would make the most sense to wake him up but, selfishly, you didn’t want to. You wanted him to stay as long as possible. So you carefully slid out of his arms in exchange for one of your pillows for him to cuddle and he barely stirred at the change, merely sighing in his sleep and tugging the pillow closer. He looked so pretty in the faint morning light and you couldn’t help but brush a hand through his hair and leave a gentle kiss to his head. 

The illumination of his phone screen from the opposite side of your bed curiously drew you over and you peeked at his notifications, seeing dozens of missed calls and double that of text messages from his girlfriend. You silently flipped his phone face down and then slunk out of the room, grabbing your robe before closing the door almost all the way behind you.

You busied yourself with making breakfast, choosing pancakes with fresh fruit to really treat him for the morning after…and also knowing he was going into a long day ahead with his accidental sleepover from last night going to bite him in the butt when he returned home. Part of you wished you could be a fly on the wall for that anticipated fight but at the same time, you were glad to stay away. 

It must have been the smell of breakfast that finally lured George out of bed and into the kitchen and he came out of your room with a panicked expression on his face as he buckled up his jeans in a half hurry. 

“I fell asleep,” he stated the obvious.

“We both did apparently.” you replied, tending to the fresh batch of pancakes sizzling in the pan on the stove. 

“I’m actually fucked. What am I supposed to tell her?” 

There was obvious stress in his voice and you couldn’t help the slight ache in your heart from seeing where his priorities lay. There you were, making him breakfast after a passionate afternoon and evening the night before and the first thing he could say to you was in concern about his girlfriend. You shouldn’t have suspected any differently…you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up. 

The question was more rhetorical than anything and George hurried past the kitchen to the bathroom to freshen up quickly. You swallowed back your tears and turned off the stove, dumping the last of the pancakes onto the serving plate, leaving the rest of the uncooked batter to thicken and be forgotten about on the counter. Just in the way you felt forgotten by him. 

When he emerged from the bathroom, he was making a beeline for your bedroom again to finish getting dressed, not even sparing you a glance on his way. Every little reminder that you were his second choice no matter the magic that you thought you shared the day before nearly killed you. You stayed in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter and trying to ignore the flashbacks from the previous afternoon as you stared at the spot where he had begged you to fuck him, how he promised you through his bliss that you were all that mattered to him. Lust made people say ridiculous things. 

George returned to the kitchen, completely dressed with his ruined shirt in hand, “Can I borrow a shirt to wear home?”

You lingered in place, knowing that if you made any move to talk or even take a step, you might have cried. The stress on George’s face faltered into more of a worry as he stared at your flushed expression and sad eyes. 

He took a step towards you, “Are you okay?”

You took a small breath and then spoke, “I…made you pancakes.”

His expression softened in realization of his own edge that morning and he walked over to you with a sigh, setting his soiled shirt on the island so he could have both hands free to gently take your wrists, “I’m sorry.”

You stared at his bare chest, not wanting to look him in the eye. 

“Hey,” George slid his hands up your arms and gave your biceps a little squeeze, leaning his head down slightly to try and get into your line of vision, “what’s wrong?”

You sniffled and looked to the side, your voice flat, “Nothing. I can wrap up some pancakes for you to eat on the drive home if you want.”

When you tried to slip out of his grasp, he wrapped an arm around your middle to stop you from walking away. 

“Talk to me. What’s got you all upset? Did I do something?” 

His voice was so soft and gentle and it ripped at your heartstrings with each syllable and you scrunched your eyes shut to try and keep yourself composed. George’s hand rubbed tenderly over your arm, staring at you so insistently with this concern in his gaze that you almost believed. 

“You have to go.” you said as strongly as you could muster. “She’s waiting for you. She’s probably pissed off and waiting for you and you don’t want to keep her waiting any longer than she already has been.” 

“I’m not going until I know you’re okay.”

You took a sharp inhale of breath and finally looked at him for a split second before speaking down to his chest again, “I’m not okay…with any of this.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “With what? Us?”

“With…you.” you mumbled. “With you and her.” 

George just blinked at you for a moment as if he were completely clueless. You thought he was the stupidest man on Earth to have not realized how madly in love with him you were. 

You continued, “I’m never going to be okay with it but it’s just something I’ve had to suck up and deal with so please can you just take a shirt from my closet and your damn pancakes and leave?”

“I don’t want to leave it like this.” George said seriously. 

“Well I dunno what to tell you.” you said tightly, “I just…don’t want to have this conversation right now.”

George stared at you for a beat and when it was realized that you weren’t going to look at him, he took a small step back with a light nod. He hesitated in front of you but then walked around the island and back to your room to find himself a shirt. It made it feel like it was meant to be only more and more knowing you were the same size in height and general build. You swore he was your other half, especially with everything he would tell you between the sheets…only to return to his girlfriend by the end of the night. 

He emerged from your room again wearing an oversized concert shirt from your closet—one of the few shirts in your closet that wouldn’t look solely like it was a woman’s—and you couldn’t help yourself but eye him longingly. He looked so good in your clothes…in your bed…in your apartment. God, you swore he was meant to be yours. The world was unfair. 

You turned away from him to grab a Ziploc bag from the cupboard and you tossed three pancakes into it and zipped it up. He watched you silently and when you held out the baggie to him across the island, he instead walked around it and took it from your hand right beside you. You didn’t look at him. 

“You mean the world to me.” he whispered to you, gently brushing your hair out of your face so he could see you the best he could. “I don’t want to just not see you again. Can we talk later? And fix this?”

You nodded faintly. 

“Okay.” he leaned in to kiss your cheek. 

With a gentle finger, he rested it against your opposite cheek to try and turn your head towards him. You barely offered him a 45° turn with your eyes still downcast but, regardless, he pressed a feather soft kiss to your lips. 

“Don’t give up on me yet, please?” he spoke softly, resting his forehead against the side of your head, “I need you.” 

You raised a hand up to slide your fingers through his soft hair at the nape of his neck, holding him there for a few more moments before you would let him slip away and into the arms of someone who didn’t deserve him. 

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[landossnorriss]

not sorry for loving you | ln x she

Pairing: lando x she. Summary: they were convinced they could hide being together from everyone whilst they navigated being lovers and teammates, but life proved them wrong. Word Count: 1.4k Warning: lando's crash, fluff, a lil angst AN: a little self serving fluff that came to me this morning.

they had crossed the line behind closed doors in the bahrain palace last year after they had taken home a championship together. a year of tension had spilled over into that moment and neither one of them had stopped themselves when fingers had started exploring where they shouldn't.

they had promised each other that it wouldn't, no it couldn't happen again. she had been so sure she could resist him. lando knew it would mess with his head when it came to racing her. would he push his breaking that extra meter if it meant risking her? every time their lips found each other again in one of the driver rooms or visits to hotels on a night they lied, they promised that it was just casual, that it was just a way to blow off steam.

she knew he needed her , he knew she hadn't ever felt so seen.

they were their own little dirty secret and other than jon who had his suspicions given the guilty look on her face when he had called out the marks on landos back , no one in the team was none the wiser.

they were on weekend five now, at this rate they were sure that they could keep it up if they needed too all year. maybe if they were sure that it was something real then it would be something worth telling the team about. right now, every time they thought about it all they could imagine was the disappointed stares they would get from the team bosses should it go wrong.

so silently, behind kisses that got longer and sweeter every time they had to part from each other , they agreed this would just be a them thing and the lingering touches of his hand on her waist in the garage? the way she reached to adjust his curls to how she knew he liked them? they would pass them off as nothing more than teammates bonding, learning to move in total sync with each other for the best shot at the titles.

she had been smug about it that weekend too, as they had arrived in saudi, she had looked across at him , all tanned and sleepy with freshly dampened curls in her bed and had been smug. they had managed to keep the secret for so long now and they were proving that they could race each other and make it work. " i'm going to beat you in quali today , i'm going to make it back to back wins. " she smirked as she crawled into their bed , leaning over to press a kiss to his lips as he laughed, rolling the pair of them over and trailing his lips down her neck. " not if i can help it, something mighty would have to stop me. "

and it seemed that way too, through practice and the first two sessions of quali, she could feel something in her gut, something that felt wrong. she had thought that lando was right , he was going to get pole and tomorrow in the race she would be chasing him. why the idea of that filled her with so much dread she didn't know but as she pulled out of her garage she tried to push the imposing thoughts of dread from her mind and remind herself it was only race five. they had all the time in the world to go back and forth with each other.

the red flag had appeared just as she crossed the line and she knew , she knew even before the radio sounded in her ears it was him. he had left the garage just thirty seconds after her , he would have been the only car flying hard enough to cause such a quick red flag. " so that's lando is in the wall at turn five, red flag. "

one, two, three, four .... corners blurred past her as she fought back the misty feeling in her eyes and tried to figure out how to respond without giving herself away. she had been on track when drivers crashed before, this was nothing new to her so why did she feel like she was going to be sick in her helmet? " he's okay right? " she asked, voice quiet and shakier than she would have liked. " yea he's , he's radioed he's okay. "

she tried to let it calm her , tried to believe that he was okay and they wouldn't lie to her but she knew that she wasn't going to believe it until she saw him herself. through her interviews she was distracted, turning her head to the media pen to see if she could find him. her smiles were fake and forced as she posed for photos and people asked her what her plan was to get max off the line, she didn't know, she couldn't think about anything other than seeing him. all she needed to do was see him , then she could breathe.

when she finally walked back into their hospitality she waited and waited, staring at the door until she heard the crowds voices spike behind the doors and she knew that he had to have been walking through the paddock for that buzz to have sounded. as the door opened she chewed at her lips, almost bracing herself for something to be terribly wrong with him and as she saw him stood on his own two feet? the sob that left her was beyond her control.

without thinking, she was moving. lando didn't seem to mind as he locked eyes with her and immediately took steps towards her. arms were flung around each other as they met in the middle of the room and all regard for the eyes on them was seemingly forgotten. burying her face in his shoulder she couldn't help the tears that continued to flow as lando ran his hands up and down her back like he wasn't the one that had just been in an accident. " baby i'm okay. " he assured quietly , but not quietly enough as several brows around the room raised at the intimacy of their drivers.

oblivious to the storm they were causing, she pulled back to look at him, a hand finding his flushed cheeks, staring at her favorite pair of eyes for a moment as she grounded herself in the reality that he was here and he was walking and talking and he was okay. " don't ever do that again. " she scalded, half laughing through her tears half deadly serious. knowing he could make no such promise lando dropped his forehead to her own, his nose nudging at hers for just a second letting her just being there calm him.

only a cough from behind pulled them from their moment, landos arms tightening around her, almost shifting her behind him as he spun so that she was out of sight from their bosses. " we can explain. " he urged though he wasn't sure what they were meant to be explaining. that they weren't together? that he didn't love her? that she hadn't been the last thing he had thought about before it went black in his mind? to say any of that out loud to either of the faces looking at them would have been a lie.

lacing her hand with his own, she stepped into sight, ever so slightly, still just a shoulder behind him as people in the room began to shuffle and find something to busy themselves with. " we can explain , but ... " pausing for a moment she looked up at him, fingers squeezing his own as he nodded at her, offering a lazy smile that told her they had this. " we won't apologise. " she would not be sorry for loving him.

watching the pair, the way they clung to each other, their team principal let out a sigh. damn racing drivers and their immovable wills. " very well, shall we go and discuss this in private?" he offered, a hand held to gesture towards his office.

with a small nod she moved, stepping around lando and dragging the pair of them to the office, hands still linked. it was only a tug on her hand that stopped her from crossing the threshold into the room once they arrived, confusion on her face as she turned to look up at him. " i love you. " the confession fell from his lips and it wasn't how he planned on saying it the first time but it was there now and in the open as they smiled at each other. " and no matter what happens in that room , you're right, i'm not sorry for loving you. "

[fic-girlie]

Sundays at the Miller House

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: On a slow, sunlit Sunday, Joel, you, and Sarah enjoy the kind of day that feels like home—pancakes in the morning, messy school projects, quiet affection, and teasing laughter. It’s a glimpse into the warmth of their life, full of love, routine, and the soft comfort of chosen family.

Warnings: pre-outbreak Joel, Sarah lives, pure fluff, domesticity

A/N: Thank you so much for the support! 🙏😊 I want to work on other Pedro Pascal characters too, so if you have any suggestions, I'm all ears!

Sunday mornings at the Miller house didn’t start with alarm or rush. They started with warmth—sunlight filtering through the curtains, the soft hum of the fridge, and the creak of hardwood beneath bare feet.

You stood in the kitchen in one of Joel’s flannel shirts—soft, oversized, smelling faintly of sawdust and the pine-scented detergent he insisted was “the good kind.” Your hair was messy, your coffee half-drunk, and the first pancake of the morning sizzled in the skillet. It was peaceful. Quiet. The kind of quiet that meant you were safe. Home.

Behind you, the floorboards groaned. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Smells like you’re tryin’ to bribe me with food,” Joel’s voice came, low and still hoarse from sleep.

You smiled. “Depends. Is it working?”

He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his chin into the crook of your shoulder. “Mm. You makin’ those blueberry ones again?”

You leaned your head back against his. “Kid’s request. Said if I made the regular kind again, she’d stage a protest.”

Joel huffed a quiet laugh. “She’s dramatic as hell. Just like you.”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, nudging him playfully with your hip. “You’re the one who made her cry last week with a Home Depot commercial.”

“It was emotional,” he said defensively, pulling away and rubbing at his eyes. “That old man built a swing for his grandkid. That’s love.”

You were still laughing at his protest when Sarah appeared in the doorway, wearing her purple pyjamas and blinking and squinting like the sun was a personal attack.

“Why are you guys so loud?” she muttered.

Joel crossed the room to ruffle her hair. “Mornin’ to you too, sunshine.”

“I smell pancakes.” She added, suddenly more awake than before. Slowly blinking out the tiredness.

You slid a plate of them onto the table. “As promised. Blueberries and everything.”

Sarah climbed into one of the chairs that was around it and immediately reached for the syrup. “You’re the best,” she said with syrupy affection, before pausing and looking up at you. “Wait. Do we have whipped cream?”

Joel gave her a look. “You think we live in a diner?”

She looked at him with an unmistakable look and tilted her head. “We could.” You exchanged a glance with Joel—exhausted but charmed. This was normal. This was the good stuff.

After breakfast, Joel stood at the sink scrubbing the skillet with exaggerated drama, huffing every two seconds. “This pan’s got somethin’ against me,” he muttered under his breath. “Like it knows I didn’t want dish duty today.”

You called from the living room. “If you want, I’ll trade with you. You can do Sarah’s school project instead. Glitter glue and all.”

Joel turned just enough to look over his shoulder at Sarah, who was sprawled on the floor with scissors, markers, and a mysterious amount of pom-poms. She looked in his direction and grinned at him.

“You like glitter, Dad.”

Joel pointed at her with the sponge. “No one likes glitter. That stuff’s a trap. Gets in your truck, your boots, your beard…”

“It’s called texture,” she said smugly and proud of herself.

You just laughed looking at the two of them, lying on your stomach next to her as she sorted little foam balls by size. “We’re building a solar system,” you explained, holding up a badly painted Mars. “Apparently Saturn needs three rings, or she’ll revolt.”

Joel meanwhile gave up the fight with the pan and now he was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, smiling without realizing it. “And what happens if I mess it up?”

Sarah didn’t look up. “Then you get fired.”

“Fired from what?” he asked, amused.

She grinned up at him. “Being my dad.” Joel let out a mock gasp, walking over and plopping down beside you both with a grunt. “Guess I better do it right, then.

The three of you spent the next hour surrounded by construction paper, cotton balls, and glue-stained fingers. At one point, Sarah leaned too far and got her elbow stuck to the coffee table.

“Oh no,” she said calmly. “I’m part of the project now.”

Joel chuckled and gently peeled her arm free. “Ain’t gonna be easy explainin’ to your teacher how you turned into Neptune.”

“She’d get it,” she said, turning completely serious. “Mrs. Clarkson’s cool.”

You caught Joel’s eye and grinned. He looked back at you like he always did in these quiet moments—soft and slow and full of that silent, deep love he never put into words unless he really meant it.

That afternoon, the three of you loaded into Joel’s truck for a grocery run. Sarah sat in the backseat with her earbuds in, mouthing the lyrics to something she insisted you were “too old to understand.” Joel had the windows down, his arm hanging out, sunglasses perched low on his nose.

At a red light, he glanced over at you. “She’s gonna be a teenager in, what, two years?”

“Don’t say that out loud. You’ll summon it.”

Joel smirked. “She already acts like one. Gave me hell yesterday for eatin’ the last toaster pastry.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And? Did you?”

“…I plead the fifth.”

Iside the store, Joel pushed the cart while Sarah rode on the front like she was little again. You handed him things, and he tossed them into the cart with mild grumbling—especially the quinoa you liked.

“This ain’t even real food,” he muttered, squinting at the package as he read it. “It’s birdseed.”

You bumped his hip. “Healthy birdseed.”

He smiled sideways at you. “You know I’d eat dirt if you cooked it.”

“Aw,” you said, mock touched. “That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me in my whole life.”

Then Sarah piped up. “You guys are gross.”

Joel quickly reached over and ruffled her hair. “You’ll understand when you’re older and in love.” She scrunched up her nose in disgust. “No thanks.”

Back at home, Sarah retreated to her room to FaceTime a friend of hers, leaving you and Joel in the kitchen, unloading groceries. He reached into a bag and held up a bottle of hot sauce. “You get the good stuff.”

You shrugged. “You’ve had a long week.”

Joel leaned against the counter, watching you put things away. “I didn’t say thank you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I do, though,” he said quietly. “Not just for this. For all of it. For… makin’ this house feel like more than just a place we could sleep.”

You turned towards him, your eyes meeting his. “Joel…”

He shook his head, his voice low and rough. “I mean it. Before you, it was just me tryin’ to keep my head above water. Pay the bills. Make sure Sarah didn’t eat candy for dinner. And now… this. Us. It’s somethin’ I didn’t know I needed ‘til I had it.”

You stepped in front of him and slid your arms around his waist. “You’re a damn good father, Joel. And a damn good partner. I hope you know that.”

He pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m tryin’, darlin’. Every day.” “You don’t have to try so hard. You’re already enough.”

That night, after Sarah had gone to bed and the house was quiet, you found Joel sitting on the back porch with a beer in his hand, the stars overhead winking through the darkness. You stepped outside and wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“Tired?” you whispered.

“A little. Good kinda tired, though.”

He reached for your hand, his fingers lacing with yours. You sat down beside him, legs tucked under you and leaned your head against his broad shoulder. The night was warm, crickets chirping in the distance, the faint smell of cut grass hanging in the air.

“You ever think about how lucky we are?” you asked.

Joel looked over at you. “Every damn day.”

There was silence for a moment, soft and unhurried.

“I know I don’t say it enough,” he said finally, voice low, full of emotion, “but this… you… Sarah… you saved my life.”

You swallowed hard, heart catching in your throat. “You don’t have to say it.”

“I want to.”

You reached up to cup his jaw carefully, brushing your thumb across the little patch there. He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut.

“I love you.” “I love you more,” he replied, and you knew he meant it—not in that overused way people toss the words back and forth, but like a promise. Like an oath.

Two weeks later

It was a Tuesday when Sarah came home from school with a scraped knee and tear-streaked cheeks. You were in the kitchen, prepping dinner, when the front door slammed and she called out for Joel.

“Dad!”

Joel was off the couch in a second, meeting her at the door.

“What happened?” he asked, crouching down to examine her knee.

“Fell during recess,” she sniffled. “It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not stupid,” he said gently. “Lemme get the first aid kit.”

You watched from the doorway as he patched her up with the kind of tenderness that always made your chest ache. He kissed her temple when he was done and handed her the TV remote.

“Go pick out a movie, kiddo. I’ll start dinner with your girl here.”

Your girl. He always called you that when he was feeling soft and vulnerable.

When he came into the kitchen, you smiled up at him. “You’re good with her.”

Joel shrugged, washing his hands. “She’s my whole world.”

You wrapped your arms around his middle, resting your cheek against his back. “And you’re mine.”

He laced his fingers with yours slowly and turned around to face you. He held you for a minute, pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, and whispered, “Don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

You looked up at him from his chest, eyes serious. “You just had to let yourself be loved.” Joel nodded, and for a moment, there was something unspoken in his expression—some shadow from the past he didn’t talk about much. But then Sarah called from the other room, and the moment passed, and the warmth came rushing back in.

That weekend, Joel surprised both you and Sarah by taking a day off from work.

“No jobs today?” you asked as he padded into the kitchen with sweatpants on.

“Nope. I told Tommy to handle it. Figured we could use a day.”

Sarah whooped with joy and immediately suggested the zoo. Joel groaned but agreed when you gave him the look.

The day passed in laughter and sunscreen and overpriced ice cream. Joel carried Sarah on his shoulders at one point, pointing out the giraffes like he hadn’t seen them a dozen times already. You snapped a picture of the two of them like that, Joel grinning up at her, Sarah’s arms thrown wide like she could fly.

Later, when Sarah dozed off in the backseat, Joel reached across the console and took your hand.

“Today was perfect,” he said softly, careful to not wake her up. “Yeah,” you whispered. “It really was.”

Months passed. Seasons shifted. You celebrated birthdays and holidays and ordinary Tuesdays with popcorn on the couch. You danced in the kitchen with Joel while Sarah groaned in mock disgust. You tucked her in at night and kissed Joel softly when the house went completely still.

There was nothing extraordinary about your life—and yet, it was everything.

You would never know that these were the last days before the world changed. That the quiet mornings, the slow dances, the smell of pancakes on Sunday—all of it was precious because it wouldn’t last forever.

But maybe that’s what made it beautiful.

The way Joel looked at you across a lazy Sunday breakfast. The way Sarah leaned against you during movie night. The way Joel whispered “I love you” into your hair every time before bed.

These were the moments that lived in the spaces between—soft, unassuming, unforgettable.

[treatmelikeasmut]

The Artist and the Engineer//Part 3 Pose Reference

<<PREV Master List NEXT>>

Pairing: Viktor x Fem!Artist!Reader

Series Synopsis: Heimerdinger wants a commemorative painting done of Viktor, who is not fond of the idea.

Chapter Synopsis: Viktor and the artist are back for their second session. He's being far more cooperative this time. But it seems the artist may have something to hide.

Word Count: 4.3k

Author’s Note: I'm still debating how I want to flip-flop between Viktor and reader. If it's going to be every other chapter, or if it's just going to be however the flow feels right.

Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog your favorite fics ❤️

~*~*~

You were late.

Super, incredibly late.

You’d gotten in the zone; playing music, working on a commissioned painting. You’d completely lost track of time. It was so easy for it to slip away like that. When you finally decided to take a break, the clock on the wall read five after two. Your apartment was ten minutes from campus if you ran like your life depended on it.

People clogged up the roads and sidewalks, which definitely didn’t help your situation. Some people yelled after you as you shoved through the crowd. You knew all too well the consequences of being late to appointments. You were just glad the spring thaw had finally seemed to be staying. The breeze no longer held its icy bite.

Still, sweat trickled down your spine as you finally made your way through the entry arch of the academy. You paused briefly, shielding your eyes as they hunted for the clock tower. It read 20 after. Cursing under your breath, you hustled towards the main door.

Standing just outside was a familiar face, Fallon, one of your friends who was still working through her undergraduate studies. Usually recognizable by her sizable stack of long, dark curls. She smiled, waving as she called you over. You returned the greeting.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you rushed.

“I just got out of of class, I have a before hours before my next one starts. You want to get lunch?”

“I would, but I have an appointment to keep and I’m running super behind!” You were already halfway through the door. “I’m so sorry, I swear, we’ll catch up soon! I’ll see you later"!”

Fallon called something after you, but it was lost when the door shut. You speed walked down the main corridor, and then turned into the hall that would take you towards the art wing. When you were sure there was no one around, you broke into a jog. You knew Heimerdinger’s assistant didn’t want to be doing this as it was. Being late was not going to help your case any.

Taking a moment, you caught your breath and wiped your sweaty forehead with a clean rag. You could only hope you weren’t too disheveled. Regardless of the paint stains on your clothes, you still had to appear somewhat professional. Running in soaked with sweat and panting was not the way to do that.

You were surprised to see Viktor already in the studio. Well at home on the chaise and deeply engrossed in his book. His long legs were stretched across the cushion, one cross over the other. He didn’t look up as you shuffled passed.

“You’re late,” Viktor observed, not unkindly.

“Yeah,” you panted, “Sorry - give me a moment and I’ll be ready.”

You hurried into the side room, and barely caught his words, “Take your time.”

In the side room, there was a wall of cubies. Each about as wide as your wing span and stretched about a foot over your head. They all had a wide shelf at the top and drawer in the bottom. Some of them were filled to the brim with covered canvases, others held only a sketch pad or an easel, most of them were empty. You were grateful the academy even had a reserved space for alumni artists. Not everyone had the space or the money to have a studio. You had a small corner where you kept your easel and paints in your own apartment. The entrance to your balcony was there, so it offered the best light. Just not the best view, since it over looked one of Piltover’s side roads.

You made your way to the one with a scrap of paper reading your name that had been stapled to the wooden surface. Tossing your bag into the bottom drawer, you dragged out your sketch pad, along with the pouch that held erasers, pencils, and a sharpener. Quickly double checking that no sticky fingers had made off with your extra supplies. Double counted your rolls of paper. Made sure your spare easel and the canvas you’d be using was all accounted for. That canvas was going to need prepped soon. That mental note got tacked to the back of your mind.

“Alright!” you sighed loudly, rounding back into the main studio. “Are we ready to start?”

Viktor looked up at you then, slotting a place holder into his book. His sharp eyes didn’t miss a beat, immediately zeroing in on your non-dominate hand. Narrowing as he studied it.

“Rough day yesterday?” he asked plainly.

You glanced down at the splint bound to your hand with white cloth. It held your ring finger and pinky straight. In the back of your mind, you could still hear the sickening sound of them breaking. Hastily, you shoved your hand in the big pocket of your overalls. You tried very hard not to wince at the pain.

“Something like that,” you told him. You tried to laugh, but it came out strained.

Viktor continued to watch you, as if he were waiting for you to elaborate. It left you feeling a bit like a specimen under a microscope. When you offered nothing he opened his mouth. Then closed it again. Finally, his gaze moved elsewhere.

It didn’t keep the shadows of the Alumni Studio from being oppressive, however. They sat heavy on your shoulder. Squeezed your lungs far too tightly. Making you itch for more than the dusty light coming in the high windows.

“Would you be too terribly opposed to sitting outside today?” you asked, then gestured behind you. “There’s a door not far that takes us to one of the inner court yards. It’s nice enough today.”

“Wherever you will have me.” Viktor shrugged, bringing his gaze back to you. Then he seemed to realize just how his wording came out. Clearing his throat, his ears reddened. Quickly, he corrected, “That is, wherever you wish me to sit.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. He was kind of cute when he was embarrassed. You swiftly erased that thought. “This way.”

Viktor trailed after you as you lead him out the side door and into another long hall lined on one side with windows. It was quiet between you, just the clink of his cane on the floor to let you know he hadn’t run off. A chill chased from the nape of your neck down your spine.

Finally, you came across the door to the court yard. The entire thing was relatively bare. Just a large circle carved from the same white stone as the rest of the building. There were a few low benches with arms, along with a sprinkle of large basins full of shrubs and moss. A couple trees grew from well maintained raised beds. You lead Viktor to your favorite one.

“Here,” you said, pointing to a bench backed by neat bushes.

Viktor sat, then you went to the edge of the low planter wall opposite him. You were both covered by the shade of a tall tree. It was just starting to sprout lively green leaves. You flipped to a new page in the pad. Then rifled through your pouch until your found your favorite pencil.

“I thought we would figure out your pose today,” you said, tapping the end of the pencil against the paper.

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “My pose?”

“Yes.” You nodded. “I want to do sketches of potential ones. It’ll help us figure out what will look best. - We also have to consider how comfortable it will be for you. I know what I’m thinking of, but did you have anything in mind?”

“I wouldn’t know -” Viktor awkwardly folded his hands in his lap.

“Try this.” You laughed a little, then moved to the edge of the wall, setting your stuff beside you. You adjusted your posture to be ramrod straight, your body set at an angle with your hands at waist height, cradling air. “Obviously you’ll be holding your book.”

Viktor tried his best to mirror your posture. Glancing at you, eyes flickering over your body. You knew it could be awkward. It was never easy posing people, it often felt too staged.

“Like this?” he asked.

You relaxed, taking a moment to check. Your mind was already doing a preliminary painting. But something wasn’t quite right. You stood, going to him.

“Almost, do you mind if I - ?”

Viktor looked at you for a long moment, then shook his head. “No, no - go right ahead.”

You nodded, then carefully covered the backs of his hands with your own palms. Applying just enough pressure with your fingers to guide him. His hands were smooth and chilled under your touch. You pulled the book a bit farther away from his chest, giving the pose some breathing room. “Hold that there. - Now this is going to feel unnatural, but I’m going to adjust your elbow. Now tilt the book itself back a little bit. We need a nice silhouette.”

You stepped away, looking him over one more time. Still just almost. You hummed, tapping a finger on your chin with the other resting on your hip. Viktor pursed his lips as you took his chin between the knuckle of your forefinger and your thumb. Guiding it to where it needed to be to follow the lines of his body.

“Now turn your hips out just a bit more,” you uttered. He followed suit without a word.

Once more, you stepped away to check composition. Perfect, except for his expression. His brows were furrowed as he stared very intensely at the pages. Without thinking, you placed your thumb between his brows. Trying to get him to relax. You’d done this before, many times, trying to get people’s expressions just right. You felt him go still under your touch, but the creased immediately went away in his surprise.

“Sorry.” You pulled your hand away. “I should’ve asked if it was fine to touch your face.”

“Don’t apologize,” Viktor muttered, glancing at your very briefly. “You simply me caught me by surprise. That is all.”

You were surprised that he was being far more cooperative today. You wondered what had changed in the last two days. Maybe Heimerdinger had said something. As long as it wasn’t about your deal, you’d be fine with whatever he had to say to get Viktor to sit until the portrait was complete. You needed this. Desperately.

“Hold this pose for a minute.”

You returned to your seat, pulling the drawing pad into your lap. You did a quick gesture drawing. Getting the lines right, carving out the silhouette with the side of your pencil. A few places needed smudged with the pad of your finger, blending until it felt right. You saw his hands begin to shake.

“Okay, you can relax,” you told him.

Viktor’s entire body slumped, then he stretched with his arms over his head. You had to admit, he was nice to look at. Long and lithe, the light carved out his features in a way you hoped you could recreate and highlighted the warm undertones in his hair. You looked back down at your sketch. You definitely hadn’t been exaggerating when you told Heimerdinger Viktor had nice features that you couldn’t wait to put on canvas. You laughed to yourself, thinking of your conversation with the professor.

“What is so funny?” Viktor asked lightly. “I most certainly hope my posing wasn’t that horrid.”

You looked up, surprised to see him bent slightly over you. Eyes on what you’d drawn. The intensity of them almost made you bashful about your work.

You shook your head. “Not you, just thinking of something I’d told Heimerdinger.”

Viktor hummed. “Nothing too awful, I hope.”

You chuckled again. “Only that I was glad you didn’t have fur.”

“Really?” Viktor asked, clearly amused.

“It took much longer to paint him because of it. He got a good laugh out of it, though.” You shrugged. “I forgot to ask - how was your day yesterday?”

Viktor straightened up, leaning on his cane. You would have to remember to sketch it. It was a nice cane, finely crafted. You wanted to make sure you got it right when you painted it.

“Eehhh…” Viktor’s eyes bounced as he searched for the right word. “Productive.”

You smiled at him. “I’m glad. I don’t want you to get too behind in your work.”

“Worry not, my partner is seeing to things in my absence.” Viktor hovered, hand readjusting on his cane. His gaze had settled on the branches over head. “I also had some time to reflect. I want to apologize for my behavior - I must not have made a good first impression.”

“It’s fine, really. I know how Heimerdinger can be. I thought he told you. I can’t really blame you for acting the way you did. So, no apology needed.” You stood, if only for something to do.

“Then let us begin anew. On the proper foot, this time.” He held out his hand. “I am Viktor, assistant to the Dean of the Academy and Hextech researcher. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

You found the effort endearing. You took his hand in yours, shaking it as you reintroduced yourself. “Recent University of Piltover graduate. Semi-professional in portraiture. It’s nice to make your acquaintance. I look forward to painting you, I’m very glad that you are not furry.”

Viktor gave you a real smile this time. It was nice to see. It suited him, opened up his face. Making you feel warm inside. You tried to shut that feeling down immediately. But you couldn’t help admiring the boyish charm in it.

“Now, shall we continue?” he asked.

You nodded towards the bench. “Be my guest.”

You walked him through a few more poses. A couple were an immediate ‘no.’ Either they just didn’t look natural on him, or he said it would be too difficult to maintain for long periods. By the end of it, you had settled for something simple. He would sit reclined against the back cushion, one arm resting on the arm of the lounge, the other holding his book. His legs would be crossed, with his left ankle resting on his right knee. Carefully keeping his brace from digging into his skin.

You considered this session a success.

When the clock announced three, you stood to stretch out your back. You were expecting Viktor to take his leave like a rabbit sprung from a trap. Instead, he sat and observed as you began to pack your things.

“Well, that’s the hour,” you announced. Wondering if he was waiting for a proper dismissal. “I figure I won’t keep you longer, I was the one who was late after all.”

“Actually,” started Viktor, “I find I have some spare time. I can stay another hour, if it’s needed.”

You paused. “Are you sure? You don't have to do that.”

He nodded. “Jayce can suffice another hour without me.”

“Alright then.” You couldn’t help but grin. “Since we've figured out your pose, I was wondering if it was okay to sketch your cane?”

Viktor glanced at where it laid next to him on the bench. “My cane?”

“For the painting.”

His expression was unreadable. “You want to include it?”

“Yes?” You cocked your head. “Why wouldn't I? Unless you don’t want it to be? - It’s your picture, at the end of the day. Heimerdinger is just sponsoring it. We don’t have to include anything you don’t want..”

“I -” Viktor frowned a touch, as if the idea had never occurred to him. He sighed. “That is perfectly fine.”

You sat on the ground in front of the bench. Viktor held the cane upright, turning it when you asked. You made little notes about colors, and where it was dullest from being held. All while being under his sharp gaze. You wondered what he was thinking. If he resented you at all, even though you were just hired to do a job.

“So…” Viktor cleared his throat. “Your fingers - what happened?”

Your whole body went rigid, freezing mid-sketch. You carefully avoided his eyes. Shaking your head, your forced yourself to keep drawing. “Nothing. I was clumsy. Tripped, landed on my hand wrong.”

A moment of silence, then a small hum. “At least it was not your other one.”

You muttered to the paper, “Not yet anyway.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I asked,” you stated louder, “will you tilt that to right a bit?”

Viktor obliged, though the movement was hesitant. You studied the cane intently. Trying not to meet his eyes. He had to know you were lying. That excuse hadn’t even sounded convincing to you. A few more minutes ticked by in silence.

“Tell me,” Viktor started again, “do you have a preference for coffee or tea?”

That one did make you look up. He ran a finger along the rail of the stone bench, watching you from the corner of his eye. The amber of them burning in a patch of sun. You told him your preference, to which he hummed. You searched your mind for something to ask him.

“So,” you started, “what all do you do for Heimerdinger?”

“Many things.” Viktor shrugged, as if it was the most uninteresting question in the world. “I do anything he asks.”

“I’ve heard you and Jayce Talis are the founders of Hextech. All the revolutionary stuff that’s appeared the last few years has been because of you. Is that true?”

Slowly, Viktor nodded. “He took the first steps, then together we built.”

“Then it’s no wonder that Heimerdinger wants your portrait done,” you started, a bit awestruck. “It’s not everyday this sort of thing comes along. - We’ll have to include something of it in your painting. Make sure everyone knows your face, too.”

“Right.” Viktor shifted in his seat. You pretended not to notice the pink blotches staining his neck. “Ah - I’m not well versed in art. Out of curiosity, how long does this sort of thing usually take? Professor Heimerdinger said this could take months, but surely not…”

“It could - it took me most of the four year graduate program to paint Professor Heimerdinger. The third and fourth year especially since I had to make a presentation to go along with it, but it was also hard to meet with him. Yours shouldn’t take nearly as long,” you told him. Your eyes traced the curves on the cane’s handle, your hand trying to follow along on the paper. “If I can focus, a painting this size takes…80 or 90 hours to complete. That isn’t including color matching and sketching, which could take it well over 100 -”

“100 hours?” Viktor repeated, jaw tight. Any openness that was once there now gone. “That is nearly four months of my time. More if one of us is not available!”

You nodded slowly. “I can try and speed up the process, but there’s no promises with this sort of thing. Some of it, I may not even need you there for.”

Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, sighing. “No, no - it’s fine. I will just have to accommodate accordingly.”

Your name echoed across the courtyard then and you both flinched. Glancing over your shoulder, you caught sight of Fallon. How had she even seen you? That ever present smile was on her face. She waved, curls bouncing as she jogged over to you.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she laughed. Her eyes turned to Viktor. “Who’s your friend?”

“Not really a friend, more of an acquiantance. This is Viktor, the Dean’s assistant,” you said, “I’ve been commissioned. Sorry - Viktor, this is my good friend Fallon. She’s in her second year of her undergraduate studies.”

He nodded at her. “A pleasure.”

Fallon gasped, gripping your bad hand by the wrist. You hissed softly at the pain, grimacing. She turned your hand palm up, then back over.

“What did you do?” In a second the sweet Fallon was gone, a dark cloud sweeping over her features. She asked in a low voice, “He didn’t do this, did he?”

You tried to pull your wrist away, laughing awkwardly. “No, no, no - nothing like that. This is my own fault. Viktor is…sweet. He’s been very patient with me today.”

Just as quick as it appeared, the storm cloud passed and Fallon was back to her grinning self. Her gold skin practically glowed under the late afternoon sun. The light threading through her dark curls to highlight the red understones. Her eyes danced briefly over your face, then narrowed.

“I know how you can get,” Fallon scolded, releasing your wrist. “Have you eaten today?”

As if on cue, your stomach growled loudly. She put her hands on her hips, foot tapping against the stones. You gave her sheepish smile. “I got in late then was up early. I had some work to do.”

Fallon flicked your forehead. “How many times have I told you -”

“Yes, I know - take care of myself.” You rolled your eyes. “I’ve just…been busy.”

“You are never too busy to care for yourself. - I’ve decided I’m taking you to lunch.” Fallon pulled your arm, hauling you off the ground. Small but mighty, it seemed. “C’mon -”

“But I have to -” you argued, barely keeping a grip on your pencil and pad as you stumbled after her. “Uh - I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then, Viktor!”

You glanced over your shoulder to see him watching you. He almost looked like he was trying not to laugh. That sent a wave of embarrassment through you. You had the strongest urge to stick out your tongue or flick him off. But you didn’t. Just allowing yourself to be pulled out the door, barely being able to waylay her long enough to put your things away and grab your bag.

Fallon found a resturant close to academy for you both. The entire time she gave you a scathing review of your poor habits. But you knew it came from a place of concern. You’d done the same for her a few times. Especially around midterms and finals.

“So, anyway,” Fallon said, the stern tone fading. A mischievous grin took over. “That guy, huh?”

“Viktor?” you asked, taking a bite of your food. “What about him?”

“He was a cutie, wasn’t he?”

“Okay, first off - he’s way too old for you.” You rolled your eyes. Fallon had been unstoppable since she started at the academy. Constantly chasing one guy after the next. “You’re not even twenty yet. He’s like, 26 or 27.”

“As if that would stop me. Besides - I wasn’t thinking about me…” Fallon chuckled. Then licked her finger and rubbed at your cheek. “Hey, did anyone tell you there’s graphite on your face.”

You looked down at where your shiney, grey fingers held your fork. Then scrubbed at your cheek with your shirt sleeve. “Secondly, I haven’t really thought about it.”

She hummed, eyebrows raising briefly. “Liar.”

“I’m not!” You truly hadn’t, whether she believed you or not. “His has some nice lines. His eyes are a nice color -”

“So you’ve just been looking at him like an art project.”

“I guess, yeah.” Your face felt hot, so you swallowed down some ice water. “I can objectively observe someone’s beauty, ya know. You literally have to take an entire class about it.”

“All I’m saying,” Fallon pushed, “is that maybe you should stop looking at him as just a subject.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “You’re trying to set me up, and you don’t even know him.”

She held her palms up. “There’s more to life than work, that’s all I’m saying. And if you just happen to be able to be in the presence of a cute guy who’s stuck with you until the commission is done…”

“I don't want to make our sessions weird. Also, I already told you that I’m not really looking to date anyone right now.”

Fallon pouted. “But why?! There are so many cuties on campus. You’re just going to ignore them all?”

“I -” There were so many things you wanted to tell her. So many things that were safer if you didn’t. You just wished you at least one person to confide in. “I’m just not looking. I’m so busy with commissions and making sure that I can pay rent. It just wouldn’t be fair to try and balance a relationship. I wouldn’t be able to dedicate enough time. It would end badly. So it’s better off that I don’t.”

Fallon’s gold eyes watched you. They reminded you of Viktor’s a bit, but hers were missing the honey tones. Either way, they didn’t seem to miss a thing.

“You’re hiding something,” she said plainly, “what is it?”

You shook your head. “I’m not involving anyone in my life drama.”

“I’m your friend, you can trust me. I want to help if I can.”

“I know exactly the kind of help I need. - Trust me, I’m already dealing with it.”

“You don’t have to carry this burden alone.” Fallon reached over and touched your arm, staring at you with nauseatingly intense sincerity.

Finally, you sighed, leaned forward in the booth - and whispered to her the whole dirty truth.

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[buck-star]

So strong and yet so broken

He works for the omega rescue, and while you think these are organisations that are darker than they say they be, you never considered to ask them for help. Only when you see the other side of the omega rescue, you finally let go of your former alpha.

Pairing: Alpha!Chris x Omega!Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 5.026 Words

Warnings/Tags: hurt/comfort, alpha/beta/omega, domistic abuse (not Chris), collar, spitting, lot of crying, angst, trust issues, lies (not Chris), mention of violence and cages, lots of fluff

Authors Note: Shout out to @thenameswinter99 for the encouragement and letting me rant about the idea! Divider made by me.

Events: Missy's writing challenge [Destroyer!Chris | Alpha/Beta/Omega | @saiyanprincessswanie]

Masterlist | Destoryer!Chris Masterlist

🎵You took my soul and wiped it clean.🎵

The slight sun breaking through the clouds doesn’t help much to warm up the freezing breeze that’s blowing through the streets of New York. The loud cracking of the nearby door makes you flinch, fingers wrapping tighter around the bag you’re holding between your shaking fingers as a strong, muscular frame appears from the inside of the building.

“Where were you so long? Didn’t I say, come home after work immediately?” His rough, angry voice breaks through the otherwise quiet, dark alley.

You’re not allowed to use the front entrance of your apartment building. You’re an omega, and omegas don't have privileges, so if you want to get inside, you have to be there on time when your alpha opens the back door of the apartment building.

“Do you need me to spell it for you? Maybe it would help to bruise your sorry little ass, letting you spell out every word why you’re late and spanking you for every single letter you say,” he suggests, his voice low and rough as he keeps standing in the doorframe. His eyes are cold as he looks down at your smaller, shivering frame. “No more little trips with ya little friends then.”

Your eyes widened slightly; it wasn’t just the promise for spanks but also that he doesn’t even allow you to go out with friends any longer. It wasn’t even your fault that you were late — half a minute too late for his liking.

“Don’t look at me like that and move your fuckin’ ass inside. Now,” he growls, annoyed, as he steps out of the doorframe and lets you walk inside. For a moment you hesitate, knowing what’s to come when you walk into your shared apartment.

You may be an omega. But it doesn’t mean he’s allowed to treat you like his property, right? On the other hand, you never learned anything else other than that. John's the first and only alpha after your father decided you’re old enough to belong to an alpha. You learned to love how to behave, how to submit even when everything inside of you was screaming that you should just punch him and run. But you never did — except in your wildest dreams, where you weren’t just a little doll for the alpha.

“A—“

“Shut up!” His voice was dripping with anger as he cut you off. One of his big hands moved to wrap around your neck, pulling you against his firm chest as he spit into your face with a wide grin. “Don’t you know better than to discuss it with me, pet?”

It isn’t Omega. It isn’t any kind of nickname he gives you. No, it’s pet.

And even that nickname isn’t a nickname. It shows your place, lower than it would be as an omega. You’re nothing but a pet for him. Good for pleasure, to pet and to feed as long as you do as he says. And if not…? Then you will have to learn that everything he doesn’t like has to be punished.

“Come on, use your words, pet,” he says, snarling as you dare to look in another direction. John doesn’t care who might see you; no one would say anything because you’re his. Marked. Claimed. He spits down on your face once again, a low chuckle rumbling through his chest as his eyes flash with a hint of pleasure and darkness. “Cat got your tongue?”

You shake your head, looking down before you can catch another glimpse of a thick alpha walking through the hallway. His scent is musky, mixed with sandalwood and something sweet — not too strong. You don’t really know him; he sometimes visits one of your neighbors, a young omega who moved into the building a while back.

You barely see her; she’s more of the shy one or something. And the alpha who’s visiting her comes like twice a week, but he isn’t claimed, and neither is the omega he’s visiting. Maybe they are just dating, or they are friends?

“Don’t fucking look at him; he’s not your alpha,” John barks at you, slamming the door shut as he tightens his grip around your neck and pulls you with him through the hallway. You whimper when his fingers dig further into your soft skin; for a moment, he chases your oxygen to be cut off until he changes his grip slightly. “And now you’re whining, stupid, fucking pet.”

You immediately press your lips tightly together, trying to stop every sound that’s threatening to fall past your lips. John is already mad; you don’t need him to be even angrier just because of that.

“S-sorry. A-alpha,” you whisper quietly, trying to take a deep breath. You stumble after him, trying not to fall. John doesn’t really care as he pulls you with him through the hallway, walking past the other alpha who’s still standing in the hallway and watching the two of you from the corner of his eyes.

Chris, who noticed your distress the moment he entered the building, your sour scent filling the hallway, his nose scrunched instinctively. He listened to John’s words and noticed your submission as he walked past the two of you. But before he knocked at the omega's door, he stopped himself and waited for the two of you.

While he was used to the scent of fear due to his work, your scent made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. His eyes darkening as he suppresses the low groan in his chest.

“Hey!” He says loudly, making you flinch. Your eyes squeeze shut and your breath gets heavier. Your chest tightens, making it almost impossible to breathe properly. Your fingers clutch the worn-out fabric of your shirt, a soft whimper leaves your lips as your body tenses.

Next to you, you can feel John tensing too, ready to fight against the other man if it’s necessary. He turns his head to Chris, raising an eyebrow to wait for the other alpha to say anything. The grip on your neck is unyielding and firm, leaving another pair of marks on your neck.

“Is that how ya treat ya omega?” Chris asks, nodding at you as his ocean blue eyes remain on your Alpha. John huffs, shrugging as he keeps you close to himself. Your lips are trembling when his fingers tighten further around your neck – you're sure he will leave bruises all over your neck. Chris raises his eyebrows, his blue orbs flickering to you for a moment, taking in your expression. “You hurt her.”

Three words said so casually, but they carry such a weight that your legs buckle underneath you. While you hope that his words mean anything for John, he thinks the opposite and only tightens his grip, making it impossible for you to breathe. A high-pitched whine escapes your lungs with the last bit of oxygen before you try to gasp for the tiniest bit of air in your burning lungs.

“You think I care?” John asks with a smirk on his lips. And damn, that hurts. Chris sighs deeply, taking a step closer to the two of you, his chest heaving with every deep breath he takes. You see the muscles in his body tensing, ready for any fight that may come. “Now excuse us. My pet needs to spend a bit of time in her cage to know who’s in charge.”

You shake your head as best as you can. All but not the cage. It's not just way too small for you, but it only includes one small blanket. And since the floor cools the metal of the cage even more, you leave it always underneath you and try to roll yourself as small as possible together. John hisses, scrunching his nose in disgust when more of the sourness in your scent fills the floor.

“Get your shit together, pet. You stink, and we don't need the whole house to stink like your sorry ass,” John groans, annoyed. You try to swallow down all your feelings, not wanting to make him even angrier, but somehow it only causes the tears to well up in your eyes.

“Let her go now, or I will make you,” Chris says with a low growl. His eyes darken, and he takes another step closer. The sweetness in his scent is almost completely gone, and you can feel the dominance radiating off him. John keeps his hand where it is, not budging. But you can feel the twitch in his fingers, the slight tremble that gives him away, and not only you notice it — Chris does too.

But instead of laughing about John, like your Alpha would do when he would scare another Alpha, Chris keeps his cold expression, only walking with slow and steady steps closer to you. His scent is surrounding you almost more than John's as he stands only a few feet away from you, your eyes on his firm chest. Chris's shirt is tight, leaving not much to your imagination— though you have different thoughts than his muscular chest.

“Now.”

“Or w-what?” John growls, trying to keep his tough facade. Within a moment Chris wraps his hand around John's lower arm, squeezing until his fingers loosen around your neck. You gasp loudly, falling down on the ground between the two. Chris twists John's arm, turning him around before pressing him against the wall of the hallway.

The taller Alpha leans closer to John, his voice rough and dangerous. “You keep your dirty paws off her, got it?” His fingers dig further into your Alpha's arm, twisting it until you hear a whine coming from John. A sound you have never heard before unless it came from you. “Now get out of my sight before my patience snaps.”

And with that, Chris pushes the other man away. John stumbles through the hallway, muttering threatening stuff under his breath, but he doesn't dare to look back at Chris. The Alpha turns to you after a moment, his gaze softening as he notices your curled-up form on the ground, your hands clutching your neck and softly stroking the soft skin.

“Hey, shhh,” Chris tries to soothe you. His eyes narrow as he notices your body shaking, but there isn't the smallest noise coming from you. You're so trained to keep all the pain to yourself that only the trembling of your body and the scent coming from you give your fear and your discomfort away. He takes a deep breath, not sure how to get your attention; he doesn't want to call you ‘Omega’ — unsure how much you connect that with John. So instead of trying to get you to pay him attention with words, he sits next to you on the floor and purrs softly.

Your eyes widen slightly as you turn your head to look at the tall alpha. He sits next to you with his back pressed against the wall, his blue eyes focused on you, while the softest purrs rumble through his chest. You feel your whole body relaxing slightly until he pushes his hand in his pocket to pull something out. You flinch immediately, whimpering quietly.

“Shhh, just get my phone out. I have to message the Omega Rescue—"

“P-Please, no… I-I don't want to go there,” you whimper, shaking your head while you pull your legs even closer against your chest. “P-Please, I will be good for him, but don't bring me to a shelter… or a—”

“Shhh, can you let me finish my sentence, please?” He asks softly, a soft smile causing his lips to curl upward. You nod, trying to keep the tears at bay while you think about all the places he could put you as an abused and abandoned omega.

John told you a lot about these ‘omega rescues’; they are all but a rescue for the omegas. They keep the omegas in cages, selling them to alphas, who are way worse than John. Or they will force the omegas into breeding programs to mate — or not mate, whatever they want — with an alpha only for the pups.

“I won't bring you anywhere. I work for the Omega Rescue, and I'm here because in the door opposite us, there lives an omega who got abandoned, and after a while in the Omega Rescue, they wanted to move here. But they are still part of the rescue program, and I'm here to check on them. But you need my help more than they do, so I wanted to call a colleague to tell him to look after them,” Chris explains and holds up his phone with a name, number, and picture on the screen. “So, do you let me call my colleague?”

You nod, still wary of what he says and even more skeptical of his profession. You keep your mouth shut, though, keeping your eyes on him as he smiles and makes the call. Even though you're still sure he's calling them to get you into one of these programs, you stay quiet and still.

During Chris’ call you only hear his part of the conversation; you don’t pay too much attention — or you try — but there isn’t another noise for you to concentrate on except his soft voice. So, while you try to steady your breathing, you pick up some of the things he says.

‘Yeah. No. It’s none of ya business.’

‘She’s fine. But we said we would come around to make sure she’s fine.’

‘Send Lee— No. Yeah, they both have a thing for one another. Send him; he’s good for her. Bet he’s pacing in his office with her self-made cookies.'

You almost smile at his words. That Lee guy has to be really head over heels with the Omega who’s living here. Chris puts his phone back in his pocket and looks at you again. You’re still curled into yourself on the ground, shivering slightly but not as much as before.

“I will take you home, omega,” he says softly, watching your body language. You’re tensing further when he says that; he might be nicer than John so far, but he could show his true colors once he has you in his home. Or once he has you at the shelter, at the Omega Rescue, to sell you or breed you.

“N-no. I will stay here,” you mumble, clawing at your legs. Chris sighs softly, knowing that John fed you lies to make sure you never ask for any help at an omega rescue. He has worked with omegas who were told these lies before, omegas who were abused by their alphas.

“You can’t stay here with him. He’s abusing you. I won’t bring you to the omega rescue, and I promise to let you leave the apartment of mine whenever you want,” Chris promises. You look into his ocean blue eyes, searching for anything that could give away that he’s lying, but he’s looking at you with such softness and sincerity.

You shake your head once more, not moving an inch though. Chris sighs, considering the options in this situation. You don’t trust him, so telling you more about the omega rescue wouldn’t help; the lies you were told stuck in your mind. Picking you up and carrying you to his car would make him even less trustworthy. So, the other option is to keep sitting there in the middle of the hallway and talk to you.

“What if I promise to give you the keys and promise you a room just for yourself?” He tries again; it isn’t even a lie. Chris owns two keys for his apartment, and the guest room is free anyway. “We could make some pizza and watch a movie, or you say you want to be on your own and read a book.”

“But you work for the Omega Rescue,” you whisper quietly. There are still a few tears in your eyes, and Chris has to push away the urge to lean closer and wipe them away. But at least your scent isn’t as sour as before; a sweetness mixed with lavender fills the air.

“I do. But we are going to my home. It’s a small apartment, just me and you. I won’t hurt you, and I will not take advantage of you,” he assures you. The alpha isn’t even sure if it works, but it’s the only option he knows where he doesn’t scare you off. “I have a few books and lots of soft blankets. You could build yourself a nest in the guest room, eat, and read if that’s what you would like.”

You’re still not trusting him; you both know that, but you nod your head. He won’t let you go back to John, and you don’t want to. You push yourself up, knees still pulled against your chest as you lift your fingers to stroke the collar that’s sitting low on your neck, hiding your untouched mating gland.

John never wanted to mate — not yet, at least. And to make sure no other Alpha tries to mark you, he makes you wear the collar. It’s nothing you like, but you know better than to discuss it with your Alpha.

“What’s with the collar? Do you want to take it off?” Chris asks, his eyes moving to the fabric of your neck, watching your fingers stroke over the rough fabric.

He knows you’re not mated; he has seen these collars. You can’t get these in a normal shop; for that kind of collar, you have to have contacts in the underground, on illegal sides.

The nod you give him causes him to sit up straighter. His movements are thoughtful and not hectic as he leans closer. “Can I take it off? I won’t touch you more than necessary. I have to tighten it a tiny bit to open it, but I will be careful. I know you don’t trust me, and I understand it. Inhale deeply.”

You're not sure why you do what he says, but you do. And before you can exhale again, the collar is off your neck. You didn’t even feel him tighten it around your neck, his skilled fingers holding the collar between the two of you. Your eyes drift from his to the collar, and you swallow thickly as a few more tears roll down your cheeks. This is the first time in ages that you're not wearing the collar, and the feeling of the hard, hurtful fabric finally being taken off your neck makes your heart ache further.

John had such control over you that you never considered taking the collar off. No matter how hurtful or wrong it felt, you kept it where it was. With the removal of the fabric, it doesn't only feel lighter around your neck, but all the emotions you held at bay are suddenly crashing over you, pushing you to the ground. First a few tears, then a soft sob before your fingers claw for anything that gives you halt, anything that could keep you steady.

Chris places the collar on the ground, inching closer to wrap his strong arms around your shaking form. Sob after sob wreaks through your body, making you almost scream out loud. You bury your face in his firm chest, taking in his comforting scent with every breath. No matter how much you hate yourself afterward for trusting someone from the Omega Rescue like that, he takes away the weight you carried for years because of John.

“Shh, let it out,” he mumbles softly against your hair, kissing your hairline. You should hate it so much, but you can't bring yourself to hate something so soft and loving. You just can't bring yourself to hate him.

You sit there, wrapped in the strong alpha, for minutes while he doesn't once laugh or mock you. His hands are soothing up and down your back, the soft purr from earlier rumbling through his chest. Your fingers are tangled into his shirt, keeping him as close as possible while you let out all the emotions you didn't even know you held back.

The front door of the building opens, and you flinch, afraid that John called his friends, but instead you hear a happy whistling from there. Your face is still buried in Chris's chest, but you can feel his muscles relaxing — he must have thought the same about John's friends. You listen to the footsteps; they stop close to you, but you don't hear keys or a knock anywhere.

“Chris, whatcha doin’ here?” The man — who must be Lee — asks as he watches the two of you sitting on the ground.

“Nice to see you too, Lee,” Chris says with a hint of amusement in his voice. His fingers keep moving along your back, soothing you further while the purr softly fades. “You should ask her out; she's always excited when your name is mentioned in any conversation.”

Instead of answering Lee's question, Chris only smiles and nods toward the door. Lee hums and nods, knocking at the door. It doesn't take long until you can hear the door open, a surprised gasp leaving the omega's lips, and you can immediately smell her joy, which makes her scent smell like cherries and chocolate cake… or it's the chocolate cake she's baking.

After sitting a few more minutes, Chris tried again to get you to allow him to bring you home, and you agreed. Tired and exhausted from all the emotions and feelings, you let him carry you to his car and drive you to his home. He didn't try to touch you otherwise than just to carry you or buckle the seatbelt. Other than that, he offered his hand for you to hold if you wanted to, and after a while you took it.

So, that's how you find yourself in the entrance of his apartment; your eyes widen as he steps in and waits for you. But you just stare at him, then into the apartment. “D-Do you want me to kneel? T-To undress?”

You're grateful that he didn't bring you to any of these breeding or shelter places, so you can at least show him that you have manners. Manners that were taught by John.

“No, you can just come in. I just ask you to take off your shoes, but other than that, you can keep your clothes on. And kneeling?” He shakes his head once again. “Neither. We are equals.”

Equals. You heard of that, some pairs look like equals outside the house — that’s what John always said. When you watched other Alphas interacting with their omegas outside, they never meant it. They were just playing the role of a nice Alpha, but John always told you they weren't as loving and understanding as he was.

“John said there are no equals between alphas and their omegas,” you mumble quietly, taking off your shoes before standing straight with your hands behind your back, head lowering to face the ground and not be rude.

Chris sighs softly, nodding. He takes a moment to think about how to approach you without making you feel like he's lying or that everything you know from John is not true at all. It isn't, but it wouldn't help you to find out about that after the earlier breakdown.

“I know you learned that. And for John it was what he wanted to believe, what he might have been taught. But there are actually Alphas who treat their omegas as equals. Because that's what we are — equals. I'm not more worthy than you,” he says softly, bringing his hand to your chin to lift your head softly. You look at him with widened eyes, listening to every word he says. “So, I might be stronger, but that’s just to protect you. Not to use it against you, never to use it against you.”

You nod, watching a soft smile spreading on his plump lips. Chris’ blue eyes light up in the most ocean-blue eyes you have ever seen. The color and the shining remind you of the one time years back when John and you went to the beach. It was the rising sun that was brightening in a light yellow, and somehow it made the ocean glisten so blue that you had a new favorite color after that.

“Do you like pizza?” Chris asks after a moment, letting go of your chin and walking a step back to give you some space.

Is that a joke?

John never offered pizza; it’s not good for you. Not even during movie nights, where he stuffed himself full with fast food. You had your salad; he never asked if you wanted the salad or something else — you just got it. And he didn't offer you any of his food either, not even the leftovers; they were a no-go for you.

“Pizza…?” You ask quietly, narrowing your eyes. “For you?”

“And for you.”

“Salad.”

Chris chuckles softly, not mockingly, but you're too cute to not smile. He shakes his head, pointing at you, then at himself. “No, pizza for you and for me. If you like pizza. Otherwise we can get you a burger, fries, or a salad.”

“But I'm not allowed…?” You whisper, tears filling your eyes once more. Is that a stupid test to see if you're good? “D-Did I pass the test? I don't want to go into the cage, p-please.”

Chris's eyes water as he looks at you; he can't help it. The amount of cases with abused omegas he worked on where nothing compares to you. They were abused, they were afraid, and they needed time to trust. But he never met an omega who was so strong and yet so broken. He tries to wipe them away before you can see them, but you already had a glimpse at the tears.

“W-Why are you crying? Did I do something wrong?” You ask, shivering slightly. Chris shakes his head immediately, almost choking on his tears as they fall down his cheeks. You have never seen an Alpha cry, especially not because of a salad? “D-Do they only have one salad, and you wanted that one? I-I don’t need one then; maybe a-a water then?”

A sob escapes his lips, his eyes are teary, and there are tears leaking down his face without a break. His fingers dig into the hem of his shirt as he feels his heart being ripped out of his chest. It's like someone smashes it on the ground and stomps on it until it's broken in small pieces.

“Y-You didn't do anything, I promise. A-And you c-can have all the salads, water, pizza, and ice cream you want,” he whispers, his voice broken and hoarse as another sob wrecks through his body. You nod, watching him as he doesn't even try to hide his emotions; he's standing in front of you, crying. An alpha stands in front of you and cries.

“C-Can I hug you?” You ask quietly. Something about him being so hurt for whatever reason — it can’t be because of the salad — makes your inner omega want to hold him and comfort him like he did earlier. Chris nods, holding out his strong but shaking arms. “I'm sorry I made you cry.”

Chris shakes his head. You take a step closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. And somehow it helps, not just him. You feel him calming down slowly, his arms holding you tightly while he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“You didn't make me cry. I—It's just—” he interrupts himself and pulls his head back to look at you with a soft smile, though the strains of the tears are still visible on his cheeks. Without thinking twice, you lift your hands and wipe them off his cheeks, causing his smile to widen. “I had so many cases with abused omegas before, but it was never an omega so strong and so… hurt like you. Every other omega would have been broken beyond belief, but not you. You're standing here, so full of love, and yet… John took so much away because of his behavior, because of his abuse.”

You listen to his words, letting them sink in. All you ever thought was just a play was the truth. And while you thought that your alpha was a nice one, he was the one who fed you with lies. He made you believe that everyone is worse than he ever could be.

“So… we can both get a salad, and there is no cage?” You ask softly, searching his blue eyes for anything that might give him away. But the only thing it gives away is the understanding, the softness, and the love he shows you.

“Promise!” Chris says, running his finger over your cheeks as well. “You will never be less than an equal. I only ask you for one favor, please: give me the chance to show you that the world has more to offer than what John showed you.”

You nod, feeling still wary, and he knows. But who would he be to judge you? His heart flutters at your nod, and in your eyes he sees the slight excitement of his promise. Maybe you will be able to see more than the darkness you were offered with John as your Alpha — even when unclaimed — for all the years.

“I would like to try a salami pizza, please… or one with—”

“We can get all the pizzas you want. But there will be lava cake as dessert; they have the best.” Chris says, smiling as he leans down to kiss your forehead. The feeling of his lips against your skin makes you giggle softly. A sound he will cherish like it's the laughing of a child — because somehow it’s your smaller self that is finally able to discover not just herself but the bright side of the world, of an Alpha. Your Alpha, someone who chose you when he didn't have to, but he did it. He didn't choose anyone but you as his omega.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @rnurse-kole @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @alexxavicry @gremlin-girly @grilledcheesewithjalapeno @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @irisk12 @lilyalone @casa-boiardi @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @bamitzzsam @feynightlight @ethanhoewke

[cheers-to-you-th]

STUPID IDIOT

Pairing: Jihoon x Reader x Soonyoung

Genre: smut !MDNI!, pwp

WC: 3.3k

Warnings: Smut, threesome, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected sex (stupid idiots, don't be them), drinking alcohol, fingering, double penetration, strangers to ???, clubbing, creampie, lmk if I missed anything

Summary: You go stupid dummy in the club like an idiot (and take two cute boys home)

Tags: @syluslittlecrows

@eclipsaria my pookie, beta read and fixed me being stupid

banner by @sanaxo-o ily

First collab done \ ^o^ /

Bright lights flash around you, drink in hand as you dance with your friends, laughing and smiling. The Saturday after finals has the club going absolutely stupid, drunk college kids going crazy as they celebrate– you being part of them. You jump, arm around your best friend as you sing obnoxiously, rapping T.O.P.’s part in Fantastic Baby with passion and energy.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom” She yells in your ear. You nod, following with her because that's just how it goes. You wait as she enters the stall, taking in your disheveled appearance and drunkenly giggling, fixing your lipstick and taming your hair as much as possible. Your friend walks out, washing her hands.

As you exit the restroom, you bump into someone wearing a shirt so bright green it sobers you for a second before you shake your head, “Sorry” the two of you say at the same time. You look at the man in front of you, dark hair, full lips, sharp eyes. Damn. He’s hot. His flushed cheeks also indicate that he is very, very tipsy.

You smile at him, noticing he looks slightly nervous, and introduce yourself. He smiles back and your heart melts because what the fuck his smile is precious. “Jihoon. Some people call me Woozi though. Do you go to HYU?” You nod and he smiles again, “Me too! I’m a music major, you?” You reply with your major– pre med– finding the guy to be precious.

“WOO TO THE JI TO THE WOOZIIII!!!” A voice behind you screams. A man with even sharper eyes and blonde hair comes up from behind you and slings an arm around Jihoons shoulders, extremely drunk. “Who’s this pretty lady?” He asks, smiling up at you. That's when you knew: you were completely and utterly screwed. 

Jihoon looks at him annoyed, “Fuck off.” He mutters, but the other man just smiles brighter.

“I’m Soonyoung. Or Hoshi! Nice to meet you. I’m a zoology major and you’re hot.” You snort at his outgoing nature as his face flushes red.

“Nice to meet you Soonyoung. I’m a pre-med and you’re also hot.” His face goes even redder and Jihoon huffs. “You’re hot too Jihoon.” You say with a laugh as the man in question’s ears go crimson, pink dusting his cheeks. “You guys want to dance?” You offer. That’s how you ended up dancing with the awkward–but very hot– guys, surrounded by lights and music so loud you can feel the bass in your chest.

The night goes by in a haze of laughter and drinks. You learn that Soonyoung is a total flirt and a bit of a party animal, but he’s got a heart of gold. And Jihoon? He’s shy, but incredibly sweet. You find out that he’s actually the lead singer of a popular cover band on campus. The way he talks about music with such passion makes your heart flutter. You share stories of your classes and hobbies, and even though you’re in completely different worlds, you find that you actually have quite a bit in common.

As the club starts to wind down, the three of you stumble outside into the cool night air, the music still pulsing through the walls. Soonyoung leans against a lamppost, breathless from your latest dance-off. “You guys are the best wingmen a guy could ask for.” You laugh, looping your arms through theirs, feeling a strange sense of camaraderie. “So, where’s the after-party?” Hoshi asks, grinning.

Jihoon looks at you, his eyes glinting with an unspoken question. “Well, we could go to our place,” he says shyly. “Have some fun.” You raise an eyebrow but agree, feeling a rush of excitement. 

The walk to their apartment feels like forever as your legs beg for mercy under the weight of your heels. But the promise of more fun keeps you going. You enter their place, which is surprisingly tidy for two college guys– although there’s some questionable tiger print furniture you learn is Soonyoungs. Soft lighting and the faint smell of incense make it feel cozy and intimate.

Soonyoung puts on some music, something upbeat but not as loud as the club, and you all sit down on the couch, sharing stories about the most embarrassing things you’ve done in class. You blush at the thought of your anatomy faux pas while Jihoon tells a story that has you both in stitches. As the night progresses, the conversation turns more personal. You learn that Soonyoung’s dream is to work with animals, specifically endangered species, and travel the world to study them. Jihoon, on the other hand, dreams of composing his own music and performing in front of thousands of people.

The atmosphere in the room shifts as Soonyoung moves closer to you, his hand finding yours. He looks into your eyes with a smolder that could melt the polar ice caps. You laugh nervously, your cheeks growing warm under his intense gaze. Meanwhile, Jihoon seems to be getting more and more nervous, his leg bouncing to the beat of the music. You realize you’ve been leaning towards Soonyoung without even noticing.

“You know, for a premed, you’ve got some killer dance moves,” Soonyoung whispers, his breath hot on your neck. You turn to face him, your eyes meeting his. His hand slides up to your elbow, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine. You can’t help but feel a pull towards him, his energy like a magnetic force that’s impossible to ignore.

Jihoon watches the two of you with a mix of amusement and something else—something you can’t quite put your finger on. He takes a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours, and you feel a sudden jolt of electricity as your gazes lock. You blush and look away, trying to ignore the way your heart is racing. The music shifts to a slower rhythm, and Soonyoung pulls you closer, placing your hand on his chest. You can feel his heart thudding beneath your palm, in sync with the bass of the song.

He leans in, his full lips so close to yours that you can almost taste the whiskey on his breath. “You’re not just a pretty face, you know?” He murmurs, his voice low and husky. “You’re incredible, really.” You laugh, feeling the heat in your cheeks, and look back at him. “Thanks,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not so bad yourself, tiger boy.”

Soonyoung’s smile widens, and before you know it, he’s leaning in for a kiss. Your heart skips a beat as your eyes flutter shut, his soft mouth pressing against yours. It’s a gentle kiss, full of promise and excitement, and you feel yourself leaning in, your body moving of its own accord. His hand moves up to cup your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw as the kiss deepens. Your heart is racing now, and you can’t help but get lost in the moment.

Jihoon’s gaze burns into you from the side, and you can feel his tension like a palpable force. You pull back from Soonyoung’s embrace, your eyes darting to meet his. There’s a silent conversation happening between the two of you, one that’s full of confusion and desire. You realize that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the best idea. But the alcohol and the music and the sheer attraction you feel for both of them has your judgment clouded. Soonyoung’s hand is still on your waist, his eyes dark with want, but there’s something about Jihoon’s gaze that makes your stomach flip-flop.

You lean over to grab your drink, your hand shaking slightly. “You guys mind if I take a breather?” You ask, trying to play it cool. They both nod, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. You head to the kitchen, taking a deep breath to compose yourself. As you lean against the counter, you hear a soft footstep behind you. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s Jihoon. He’s always been the quiet one, the one who observes before he acts.

He’s so close now you can feel the heat radiating off his body. He gently takes the drink out of your hand, setting it down. “You okay?” He asks, his voice a soft caress. You nod, turning to face him. He’s even more handsome up close, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes you want to confess every little secret you have. “I just... I don’t know what’s happening here,” you admit.

Jihoon nods, swallowing hard. “I know. I feel it too,” he says, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. His touch is gentle, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. You lean into it, feeling the connection between you two growing stronger by the second. Soonyoung is still in the room, but it’s like he’s a million miles away. The only thing that matters is the way Jihoon’s eyes are looking into yours, the way his hand feels on your face.

Before you can say anything more, he leans in and kisses you. It’s different from Soonyoung’s kiss—slower, more deliberate. It’s like he’s trying to communicate something with every press of his lips, every stroke of his tongue. You melt into it, feeling your resolve to stay detached from this situation slipping away like sand through your fingers. You’re lost in the moment, lost in him.

As you kiss, Soonyoung’s presence fades into the background. He’s still there, watching with a look that’s part shock, part intrigue. You know you should stop, you know it’s not right to lead him on, but the alcohol and the chemistry between the three of you is a potent mix. And when Jihoon pulls away, you find yourself looking at him with the same want reflected in his eyes.

“Let’s go to my room,” he murmurs, and you nod, allowing him to lead you down the hallway. The music thumps through the walls, muffled by the thick layers of your desire. Inside the dimly lit space, you can barely make out the posters of musical notes and artists, a stark contrast to the passionate scene unfolding. Jihoon closes the door behind you, his hand finding yours again, and you know you’re crossing a line you might not be able to come back from.

Soonyoung has followed you both, his curiosity piqued. “Is this okay?” He asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. You look into his eyes, the green shirt seemingly glowing in the dark, and nod. Somehow, the three of you end up tangled on the bed, limbs intertwined as if you’ve done this a hundred times before. It’s a dance of hesitation and want, a silent agreement that you’re all in this together.

Jihoon’s shyness dissipates as the night wears on. He’s not the shy guy you met at the club anymore—he’s confident, commanding even. His hands are everywhere, exploring, claiming. Soonyoung’s touches are more playful, his kisses peppered with whispers of sweet nothings that make you giggle. You find yourself in the middle, a delicious sandwich of desire, trying to keep up with both their advances.

Clothes come off in a flurry of motion, a blur of fabric and limbs. Hands roam, lips trace, and bodies are pressed together with heat and passion. You’re not sure whose touch is whose, and you don’t care. The room is a haze of pleasure, the only thing clear is the feeling of skin on skin. You’ve never been with two guys before, and it’s overwhelming in the best way possible. You feel cherished, desired, alive in a way you never have before.

Soonyoung’s mouth finds your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there as he sucks in a breath. You gasp, arching your back as Jihoon’s hand slides down to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him. His kisses are deep, claiming, and you can’t get enough of the way he tastes—like whiskey and the sweetness of your drink. Your hands are in his hair, pulling him closer, as his other hand explores your body, teasing your nipples until they’re hard peaks.

Jihoon’s touch is gentle yet firm, his movements deliberate as he makes you squirm with pleasure. His fingers dance over your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Soonyoung’s mouth moves to your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers sweet nothings that make you wet. You feel his erection pressing against your thigh, and the thought of having both of them inside you sends a bolt of desire straight to your core.

You kiss Soonyoung again, your hands running down his chiseled abs. His tongue plays with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth as if he’s trying to memorize the taste of you. You can feel the anticipation building in the room, the tension tightening like a coil ready to spring. You straddle Jihoon, grinding against him as he watches you with hooded eyes, his hands on your hips, guiding your movements. Soonyoung kisses a trail down your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone, making you shiver with pleasure.

Your bra hits the floor, and Soonyoung’s mouth finds your breast, his tongue teasing the sensitive peak. You gasp as Jihoon’s hand slides between your legs, his fingers finding your soaked panties. He teases you gently over the fabric, his eyes never leaving yours. The room spins with pleasure, your heart racing as you realize you’re about to do something you’ve never done before. Soonyoung’s hands are on your hips now, his thumbs teasing your waistline. You can feel his erection against your ass, and you lean back into him, his hands coming around to cup your breasts, his thumbs flicking your nipples in time with Jihoon’s movements.

Jihoon’s breath hitches as he watches Soonyoung touch your chest, and you can see the desire in his eyes. He leans back, his eyes never leaving yours as he takes off his shirt, revealing a chest that looks like it was sculpted by the gods. You reach out to touch him, your hand sliding over the smooth, firm planes of his torso. Soonyoung kisses down your body, his tongue tracing a line down your spine, making you arch against him.

Jihoon looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust. You can see the struggle in them, the want to devour you whole. Soonyoung’s hands slide down to your panties, pulling them down and exposing you to both of them. Jihoon’s mouth finds your core, his tongue flicking against your clit, making you moan. Soonyoung kisses you, his hands still exploring your breasts, his thumbs rolling over your nipples. The combination of their touches is exquisite, an overwhelming feeling that has you writhing on top of Jihoon. He slides two fingers inside you, and you buck against his mouth, the sensation overwhelming. You can feel your orgasm building, the tension in your body coiling tighter and tighter.

As Jihoon’s tongue swirls around your clit, Soonyoung’s hand moves down to stroke his cock, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight of him touching himself while watching you with Jihoon is almost too much to handle. You reach back, your hand finding his shaft, and you stroke him in time with Jihoon’s movements inside you. The two of them are in sync, their rhythms matching perfectly, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

You moan into Soonyoung’s mouth, your body trembling with the effort of holding back your climax. Jihoon’s fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot, and you know you can’t hold on much longer. Soonyoung breaks the kiss, his eyes locked on yours as he whispers, “Come for us, baby.” And with those words, you do. Your orgasm crashes over you, a wave of pleasure that makes your vision swim and your body convulse. They both watch you with hunger, their desire for you palpable.

Soonyoung takes over, his mouth replacing Jihoon’s hand, as the latter kisses his way up your body. His cock nudges against your entrance, and you’re so wet, so ready for him, that he slides in with ease. You gasp as he fills you, his hands gripping your hips as he starts to move. It’s a slow, deliberate rhythm, one that has you panting and begging for more. Jihoon kisses your neck, his breath hot against your skin as his hand finds your clit again.

You’re sandwiched between them now, Soonyoung’s mouth worshipping your breasts while Jihoon’s cock slides in and out of you, setting a pace that’s driving you insane. Your hand finds Soonyoung’s hair, pulling him closer as he sucks harder. The sensation is almost too much, your body tightening around Jihoon as you feel another orgasm building. 

Jihoon’s hand leaves your clit, moving up to play with your hair as he picks up the pace, his hips snapping up to meet yours. You can see Soonyoung’s erection, and you know he’s not going to be left out for long. 

Soonyoung’s mouth pops off your chest with a lewd noise, leaving you gasping for air. He positions himself at your entrance, and with a wicked grin, he slides in next to Jihoon, filling you completely. You moan, the feeling of having both of them inside you at the same time more than you ever thought possible. They move together, their rhythm matching perfectly, creating a symphony of pleasure that echoes in the room. You can feel every inch of them, the way their bodies move in unison, the way their breaths mingle with yours.

Jihoon’s hand moves to your throat, his grip firm but gentle, as he takes control of the kiss. His other hand slides down to cup your ass, pushing you down onto his and Soonyoung’s cocks. The sensation is intense, the fullness of them both making your eyes roll back in your head. You can feel yourself getting wetter, your body begging for more. You’ve never felt so alive, so wanted, so completely consumed by desire.

Soonyoung’s thrusts become more urgent, his breathing ragged. He bites your shoulder, the sting of pain mixing with the pleasure as you rock against him. Jihoon’s eyes are hooded, his movements deliberate as he fucks you in time with Soonyoung’s. You can feel the tension in the room building, the energy between the three of you reaching a crescendo. You know you’re all going to come together, and the thought sends you spiraling even closer to the edge.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, your body convulsing around both of them as you scream out their names. Soonyoung’s grip on your hips tightens, and you feel him tense as he follows you over the edge, his hot release filling you up. Jihoon’s hand squeezes your ass as he fucks you through it, his own orgasm shuddering through his body. You collapse onto him, panting, as they slide out of you, leaving you feeling empty.

You’re both a tangled mess of limbs and sweat, your heart hammering in your chest. Soonyoung kisses the back of your neck, his breathing still heavy. “That was...” He starts, but the words seem to fail him.

Jihoon’s arms tighten around you, his heart racing beneath your cheek. “AMAZING!” Soonyoung yells from the bathroom, where he’d stumbled off to clean up. You can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally breaking through the haze of desire.

You sit up, feeling a bit awkward as you try to find your bearings in the mess of sheets and discarded clothing. Jihoon watches you with a soft smile, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. “We should, uh, do this again sometime,” he whispers, his voice still a little shaky.

“I’d like that.”

Collab Admins: @sanaxo-o, @bella-feed and @dokyumms

[pedroscurls]

those three words (one-shot)

summary: since coming back home for good, you had been the one to keep him grounded. and tonight, javier finally feels the peace he's been craving for since leaving colombia... and it's all because of you.

pairing: javier peña x fem!reader content warnings: fluff, established relationship, fluff, happy ending, no use of y/n. word count: 918 a/n: ok - i have not written for javi p in so long, so i hope i did this character justice! once again, thank you for hosting your 22nd birthday writing challenge lex @princessanglophile (happy birthday and congrats on graduating!) i wanted to do a disney song with a pedro pascal character and got "javier peña with the song can you feel the love tonight?" hope y'all enjoy <3 song: can you feel the love tonight? by elton john

Javier can’t stop looking at you—there’s a warmth that sits in his belly and he feels his heart beat a little faster. You’re smiling, head slightly tilted back as a quiet giggle leaves your lips. You had been talking about your day at work, but if he’s being honest, he stopped listening a long time ago. 

Not because it wasn’t interesting. 

But because time always felt like it stood still whenever you were around. 

Javier had wanted to do something nice for you tonight, so he had gathered a handful of pillows and blankets and placed them on the bed of his truck. In the middle of it sat a bouquet of flowers, so when he picked you up for your scheduled date, he couldn’t help but feel pride in his veins at the look of surprise and excitement in your eyes. 

You always made him feel good—even in the beginning stages of your relationship, you had been so understanding of his need for space. You never pushed him further than he wanted, never tried to make him talk if he wasn’t willing… and the way you touched him, the way you looked at him—Javier never felt it before. 

Peace. 

Grounded. 

Safe. 

Loved. 

As his relationship with you progressed, so did his feelings. The more time he spent with you, the more he found himself falling more and more in love with you. When his nightmares kept him up at night, causing him to wake up in a thin sheet of sweat, you’d be right there—your hand lightly resting over his forearm, eyes filled with concern. You wouldn’t say it was okay, you wouldn’t say that you understand. You’d quietly say, “Come here, baby. I’ve got you,” and Javier would lie back down, allowing you to pull him into your arms. He’d rest his head against your chest, the sound of your heartbeat calming him down and lulling him back to sleep. 

But there was fear that settled in the pit of his stomach—he always thought you deserved better than him, that you deserved someone who didn’t have as much baggage and trauma as he did. So during one big argument that he caused, you had blurted out that you loved him. It left him speechless and made the fear just grow even bigger. Before he could even respond—the words at the tip of his tongue—you spoke for him, “I know you can’t say it and that’s okay, but I love you, Javi. There’s no one else.” He rushed to you in that moment and pulled you into his arms—the argument now a lost thought. 

And he knew that he loved you. Javier knew it the moment he laid eyes on you. 

“Hello? Earth to Javi,” you pull him out of his thoughts, a large smile lining your lips. “Did you even hear anything I was saying?”

He just nods, pulls you onto his lap as he leans against the back of his truck. “Of course, baby.” 

“Liar,” you laugh quietly, arms draping loosely over his shoulders. “You know you’re a bad liar.”

“I’m only a bad liar where you’re concerned.” He runs his hands along your thighs and around your hips, up your back and down. “I’m weak when I’m around you.”

“Such a charmer,” you roll your eyes playfully. “Thank you for tonight, baby.” 

Javier grins—the dimple on his right cheek appearing almost instantly. His hands move to rest on your hips, deep brown eyes staring deeply into your own. “I promised you dinner.”

“I thought you’d just take me out or cook me something, but this—I like this.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nod. “Yeah,” you smile and lightly peck his lips. 

Javier maintains his smile once you pull away. You’re gazing into his eyes and everything around the two of you just seems to disappear. He brings one hand up to splay across the side of your neck, thumb brushing against your jawline. He sees the way you pull your lower lip between your teeth and he leans in closer, forehead resting against your own. 

The love that he feels for you—the ache in his chest whenever you’re not around, the butterflies he feels in the pit of his stomach when you are—it overpowers the fear that tries to remind him why this wouldn’t work. 

Because it does. 

It has.

And the way you’re looking at him now—like you know what he’s about to say, it makes his heart race even faster. As he parts his lips, those three words catch in his throat. You bring your hand to his cheek, thumb gently brushing across his lips. 

“I know,” you whisper quietly—so quiet that Javier might have missed it. “I know, baby.” 

His eyes soften and he gently purses his lips to place a gentle kiss on the pad of your thumb. Javier takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. 

“I love you,” he finally says—it comes out as a quiet whisper and all of a sudden, he feels peace and relief wash over him. 

Javier never thought that he’d ever get the chance to settle down—and he certainly wasn’t looking for a serious relationship either—but you had captured his attention from the moment he laid eyes on you. 

You feel like coming home after a long day—like safety, warmth, and knowing that he doesn’t have to pretend to be someone he isn’t when he’s around you. You’re the peace and comfort that he’s always searched for. 

“I love you, baby,” Javier repeats. “It’s always been you.”

[moodient]

<- masterlist

imagine artist!reader and modern!ambessa were in their lovely home, ambessa was on the phone with a client, explaining policies and arrangements for their new project. she sat legs spread, arms on both sides of the sofa. she was completely immersed in the conversation, nodding her head whenever they agreed and rolling her ring around finger..

you found her absolutely gorgeous, well she could be sleeping and you would find her stunning but right there.. she looked ethereal, heavenly.. the way the sun shined on her skin, glowing and perfect. you quickly ran to grab a graphite pencil and a easel. you plopped a seat far from her, just so you go capture the entire look.

she looks at you, confused for a second until she saw your pencil and easel. she smiled and went back to listening to the client now babbling about some sort of way to make more income but ambessa only replies with, "mhm." or "sure." she's absolutely listening but her inner thoughts were more focused on you, the way you looked so concentrated, dedicated to making sure every stroke was perfect. capturing her knowledgeable and allowing eyes, her kissable nose that scrunches up whenever she's upset or disgusted. her lips that was always knew how to make you melt. her face.. filled with age and experience but also joyful, prideful and elegant.

after a while, ambessa ended the call and places her phone beside her. she stays silent allowing you to stay in your element until she hears you drop your pencil.

"drawing me again, sweetheart?" she says, looking at you but her body is still in the same position. you've yelled at her before when she would move positions and she now knows not to do but she still found you being angry absolutely adorable.

"what can i say.. you're my muse." you shrugged, getting up and walking towards her. you gave her a small peck on the cheek and held her cheek. her eyes were soft on you, absorbing your appearance. your hair was a bit out of control and your face was covered from you smearing the graphite on your forehead and cheek, wiping off the sweat that was once there.

she looks at you in adoration and endearingly. she sugarcoats it but she absolutely loves it when you draw her, you draw her almost calculatedly, the distance between her eyes were perfectly, lips perfectly rounded. nose, broad but strong. and the outfit you always drew was caressed with wrinkles and extreme detail.

"can I see this drawing, gorgeous?" she asked. you nodded excitedly and keeping it turn from her until you got close. flipping it over, again.. you captured her perfectly, she looks absolutely godsent and you couldn't keep your excitement hidden once you saw her smiling at it, admiring it even.

"you always draw me beautifully, honey. i love it." she said, in admiration. you always loved her compliments whether it's your life or your drawings and even sketches that look like chicken scratch.

"can.. I draw you honey?" she asked holding the drawing in her hands. you looked at her a bit shocked but you nodded.

"go ahead, baby. draw me like one of your french girls~" you teased, switching spots with ambessa. before you sat, she gave you a endearing kiss.

"you're my only girl, beautiful." she said, before sitting and sketching you out.

[kpop-reactions-povs]

Stray kids- Pregnant wife insists on keeping her independence

⸻

Bang Chan

Chan understands independence — it’s part of what he loves about you. But the first time he finds you on a step stool trying to clean a cabinet at 7 months pregnant, his heart drops.

“Babe,” he says quietly, taking you by the waist. “What are you doing?”

“I just wanted to get it done before you got home—”

“No,” he breathes, voice shaking slightly. “I can’t let you do things that put you or our baby at risk. Please.”

You start to argue, but he cups your face. “I know you’re strong. But part of being strong is letting someone help. And I need you to let me help. It’s all I ever wanna do.”

⸻

Lee Know

Minho gets passive-aggressively soft. Not angry — just… overly helpful.

You reach for a bag. He’s already taking it from your hands.

You start sweeping. He appears with the vacuum.

Finally, you snap, “I can still do things!”

He blinks. “And I’m still going to stop you.”

You huff. “You’re so annoying.”

He leans in, smirking, “You’re carrying my kid. That means you’ve been upgraded to queen status. Queens don’t mop floors.”

He pulls you into his chest. “Let me take care of you. You already do everything else.”

⸻

Changbin

Changbin sees you carrying groceries and immediately rushes over.

“You should’ve called me!”

“It was just a few things,” you say, brushing him off.

“Still too much for my precious girl and my baby,” he pouts, unloading the bags.

Later, he sits you down and gently cups your hands. “I know you want to be independent. I love that about you. But when it comes to your safety? I won’t ever be chill. I just won’t.”

He kisses your knuckles. “Let me spoil you. Please.”

⸻

Hyunjin

Hyunjin is half dramatic, half whipped. He catches you on your knees scrubbing the floor and gasps like it’s the end of the world.

“WHAT are you doing?”

“Cleaning!”

“You’re pregnant, not Cinderella!”

You laugh, but he’s dead serious. He pulls you up and sits you on the couch.

“I admire your fire,” he says, brushing your hair behind your ear. “But I need you to save your energy for growing our baby, not fighting the dust bunnies.”

From then on, he makes every task a joint effort — chore time becomes cuddle breaks, cleaning turns into dancing, and you never scrub floors alone again.

⸻

Han

Han is a mess. He walks in on you lifting a box and goes full panic mode.

“NOPE. Nope nope nope.”

“Jisung, chill.”

“You’re not a forklift! You’re growing a baby! That’s your only job now!”

He takes over, still muttering under his breath like a cartoon character. Later that night, he apologizes, arms around you.

“I know I overreact. But I just… I love you so much, I can’t take any risks. I need you both safe.”

You kiss his cheek, and he melts.

“I’ll try not to panic next time,” he says, “but you gotta let me help sometimes too, okay?”

⸻

Felix

Felix is the softest. He sees you doing something — anything — and gently pulls you away without a word.

You frown. “I was fine.”

“I know,” he says, brushing his nose against yours. “But why do things alone when I want to do them with you?”

You start to protest, and he smiles. “You’re the strongest person I know. But strong people still deserve rest. And you, my angel, deserve the world.”

That night, he makes your favorite meal, rubs your feet, and whispers, “You’ve done enough. Let me take care of you now.”

( Felix without makeup 🔛🔝)

Seungmin

Seungmin pretends to be chill. Until he catches you lifting a full laundry basket.

“Oh? So we’re carrying bricks now?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s laundry.”

He takes it from you anyway, giving you the look. “You can glare all you want. You’re banned from lifting anything that’s not a fork or a baby name list.”

Later, when you’re snuggled in bed, he rubs your back and says, “I know you don’t want to feel useless. But to me? You’re doing the most important job in the world. Let me do the rest.”

I.N (Jeongin)

Jeongin doesn’t fight you. He outsmarts you.

“Oh, you’re going to mop? Cool. I already did it.”

“You were going to vacuum? Done.”

“You wanted to walk to the store? Too bad. I already ordered snacks.”

Eventually, you call him out. “Stop babying me!”

He pauses, then cups your cheeks. “I’m not babying you. I’m loving you. And our baby. And this whole little life we’re building.”

He kisses your forehead. “Let me do it all, just for a little while. You’ve done enough.”