#This is to all the people who have loved me

[averageestrogenenjoyer]

Brienne of Frickin' Tarth!!!! best girl!! best girl brienne!!!!

Oh my god oh my god oh my god but thinking about Brienne and how she didn’t reject her femininity by choice but everyone else rejected it for her because she wasn’t conventionally attractive so the only role she felt she could fit in to in society’s eyes was that of a warrior and how she was in love with Renly because he was nice to her and danced with her and treated her how all the other girls her age were treated even if it was just for a night and how she never feels like she fits in as a woman because she’s ugly but she never fits in as a man because she isn’t a man but she can’t go back now that she knows what its like to be free from those constraints but there is still a small part of her that wonders what it would be like if maybe, just maybe… and I just… George had absolutely no right to write a character that good

[paucubarsisimp]

attention

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: in which lando and your son are fighting for your attention

warnings: two very clingy babies

a/n: first f1 fanfic! lmk what you guys think!

the house is eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the tv in the background. you’re curled up on the couch, flicking through a magazine, legs tucked beneath you. it’s one of those rare moments when everything feels calm—well, that’s about to change. because in this house, peace never lasts long.

theo, your five-year-old, suddenly bursts into the room, his little footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor. he’s clutching a set of plastic blocks, face bright with excitement. “mummy, look! i built the biggest tower!” he exclaims, holding them up in front of you like a trophy, his wide eyes pleading for your praise.

you glance up and smile, your heart melting just a little at his enthusiasm. “wow, theo! that’s amazing! you worked so hard on it.”

just as you’re about to reach for the blocks to take a closer look, lando strolls in, hair still damp from his shower, a towel around his neck. he scans the room and spots you on the couch. his eyes gleam mischievously, and before you know it, he’s leaning toward you. “hey, that’s my spot,” he says, playfully pointing at your lap.

theo freezes, glaring at lando as if he just dared to commit a great injustice. “no! mummy’s mine!” theo declares, squeezing tighter around your neck, like a tiny koala.

you laugh softly, amused at how ridiculous this whole situation is. “boys, please. there’s enough of me to go around, okay?”

lando pouts, but it’s clear he’s not giving up that easily. “but i was here first,” he says with a dramatic sigh, flopping onto the couch beside you. he leans in closer, clearly making a point to get as close as possible. “i want some attention too.”

theo, sensing the challenge, crosses his arms over his chest. “no, you can’t have her,” he huffs, his little voice firm and adamant.

you try to keep your composure, but it’s hard when both of them are giving you that look—like they’re both fighting for the same thing. your attention. “lando, theo, seriously. you both need to share. i love you both, no need to fight.”

but theo’s not backing down. “mummy, look at my tower! it’s way bigger than daddy’s race car!” he lifts the blocks again, practically shoving them in your face.

lando grins, his eyes narrowing with playful challenge. “oh, really? i think i’ve got a pretty awesome race car. much cooler than a tower.” he leans in, making sure you can hear his tone. “want to see it, babe?”

theo gasps in horror. “no! mummy! look at my tower!” he says, pushing lando’s arm away, as if he could physically block his dad from you. his tiny hands press against lando’s chest, trying to shove him back.

lando raises an eyebrow, impressed. “well, i guess he’s got a bit of me in him, huh?” he grins, nudging theo with his elbow.

theo shakes his head furiously, his little body tense as he pulls your arms tighter around himself. “no! mummy’s mine!” he says, his tone determined, though there’s an adorably stubborn edge to it.

you laugh, trying to calm the storm that’s brewing between your two favorite people. “boys,” you sigh, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips, “can we all just get along?”

lando leans over, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, fully aware that theo is watching. “well, i think i’m still winning,” he says, looking at you with a teasing grin.

theo, who had been trying to maintain his stance as the “only one worthy of mummy’s attention,” glares at his dad, then glances at you. “mummy, tell daddy he can’t sit here. i need you.”

you raise an eyebrow at theo’s bold declaration. “theo,” you start, chuckling, “i’m not telling daddy he can’t sit here. i love both of you. and you both need to share mummy’s attention.”

lando stretches out next to you with a dramatic groan, “but it’s so much more fun when i get all of it.” he nudges theo with his foot, a playful gleam in his eye.

theo crosses his arms, sticking his tongue out at his dad. “mummy’s my best friend,” he says defiantly.

“oh really?” lando smirks, raising an eyebrow. “well, i’m pretty sure i’m her best friend too.”

the battle rages on. and despite the chaos, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. because in the end, you have the best of both worlds—two amazing boys who will never stop fighting for your attention, and your heart full of love for them both.

[girl-lostconnection]

So..forgive me you're the first person I'm ever asking anything on Tumblr (Kinda new and I usually like to describe it like hiding in the corner and just watching everything quietly and leaving likes and I love your work) but I was thinking about your concept with 141 and reader dying and the notebook. Would there ever be a case where the others stumble upon it? Whether Price forgets (somehow) to put it away or someone's in the midst of searching for something and stumbles upon it?

Again, love your work, feel free to ignore this tho

Yeah, I think this type of readers people call “lurkers” which is cool🙂‍↕️you guys are usually the backbone of the audience, I enjoy you tremendously.

And that’s a really good question, anon!

You know what? Why not turn the heat up a little more for this pot with the frogs.

I can imagine Price not exactly forgetting it somewhere but harbouring it so close to himself that people start to notice. This specific notebook is always with him — under his armoured vest and in the front pocket of his shirts, on top of the stack of documents, edge of it peeking out of his pants pocket.

It’s always there when before he didn’t carry it with him. It’s small and simple, technically it shouldn’t rise any questions but Kyle is the first who notices it. Maybe because after your death he’s so sharply attuned to everyone else on the team, it’s practically unhealthy.

Kyle who watches John fumble with the leather bound corners of the little thing and wonders…what’s inside of it? They have been all grieving but your things have been taken by them all and shared fairly.

Simon doesn’t withhold your pictures or books with your annotations. Soap doesn’t say no when Gaz asks for one of the keychains. Kyle himself lets Simon and Johnny take one of your things each. Simon takes the big oversized T-shirt and Soap whisks away one of your hoodies, clutching it hard to himself, knuckles white with tension.

(Kyle will never admit but when he walked in on Johnny in hoodie with your name and rank on the back of it his knees buckled. For a moment a traitorous part of him thought you were there. For a moment he could breathe again)

So Price keeping something of you to himself almost felt unfair. It wasn’t, of course, no, Captain had every right to grieve and mourn in a way that made it easier for him.

But-

But Kyle missed you. Everyday and every morning he’d wake up, realisations hitting him again that you aren’t coming back. You are never coming back.

You disappeared so suddenly you were now everywhere.

The unwashed cup they couldn’t bring themselves to wash, the clothes and trinkets, the books and pictures. The notebooks.

Kyle remembers how you two played games in it, drawing X’s and O’s when debrief would get too long and your brains too sluggish to keep awake without external stimulation.

Kyle remembers you writing in them, so focused you oftentimes wouldn’t notice him getting closer until he’d plop himself down in front of you, pretending to pose. Your favourite model, wasn’t he?

Kyle remembers you smiling at him, eyes flickering to his face for a moment, your gaze so impossibly soft he feels like choking and burying himself next to you.

There is a whole life ahead. Kyle isn’t sure how to live it with a hole in this chest the size of your love.

It’s a selfish thought, maybe. Maybe he is selfish.

Maybe he should have been content with what he has been given. But he wasn’t.

So now he slips the notebook off Price’s desk when the man himself is so wrecked he can’t see straight. John’s drinking got worse after your death. Not yet enough to cause disciplinary action but enough to make them all worried.

Gaz has never seen him like that.

Why were they all lucky enough to meet you but not lucky enough to save you? Would the outcome be different if one of them went with you on that deployment? Could they save you if they knew how it ends?

Could they try?

Kyle’s fingers skim over the pages, your hoodie on him and if he pretends hard enough it almost feels like a hug. It almost feels like his body heat seeping through fabric is yours. Like you were just wearing it.

Like you didn’t leave at all.

Like you are coming back.

Kyle flips through the pages, gurgling wet laughter in his throat when he notices that you have been writing Simon’s jokes down and coming up with your own. (The “just got hospitalised due to peekaboo incident. They put me in ICU” joke almost makes Kyle choke).

Some part of him gets why Price has been guarding this specific journal so hard. Why he wasn’t letting anyone else close to it, because this right here is you.

Everything that’s left of your thoughts and feelings, of your humour and love, of your plans and scribbles.

It’s tangible proof that you were here. You lived, you loved, you thought. You were there and you were a person. Their favourite person. Their beloved one.

Maybe that’s why your small note hits him harder than he could have ever expected. A small resigned “I’m not sure I fit in. I’m not sure I’m not second…or fifth best in this case. Don’t even know if I wanna talk about it. Just plain stupid” splits Kyle’s scull open and leaves him bleeding and aching and shaking.

What…what did you mean “fifth best”? Why would you say that? What- no. Nonononono. No, it’s not fair. It’s not true, it has never been true.

Kyle feels like driving back to the cemetery and wrapping his car around the poll.

Kyle feels like clawing at the ground and sobbing-sobbing-sobbing.

Kyle feels like begging.

Please, no. Please, come back. Please, let him fix it, let him tell you the truth, let him tell you.

Kyle understands why Price was guarding the journal this fiercely. Kyle is so mad he feels like demolishing John’s office and yelling until his voice is raspy useless thing, vocal cords damaged, headache pounding inside his head and he’s burning from inside out.

Kyle looks at the page, his whole core so hollowed out you could feel an echo if you’d knocked.

Kyle doesn’t know what to do because you are gone.

Because he wants to say “I’m sorry, love, I’m so sorry, I’d be better if I knew”, he wants to say “come back and scream at me, come back demand attention, come back and hurt me in return just please please come back”.

He wants to say “I love you” in a hundred different ways, he wants to kiss it better, he wants to hold you again, he wants you back, why can’t you come back, why can’t he get you back? He will change, he will do better, he will pay attention, he’s sorry, love, he’s so sorry.

Soap finds him just blankly staring at the page and he doesn’t understand at first, concern sharpening his features like one of the razors he uses for his drawing pencils.

Johnny sinks down next to him, lips pressing to Kyle’s temple, breath panting when Gaz doesn’t respond because he can’t.

He doesn’t know what to say.

How do you live knowing you may never change what already happened? How do you keep going knowing your tenderness is decaying six feet underground, that your love is springing with flowers when they should have stayed above the ground and picked them? How do you get over it? How?

Johnny’s eyes skim over the page and Gaz can feel when the realisation sinks in, when the body next to him is getting poured full with raw ache and ice sharp panic.

Johnny asks “Gaz whose journal is that”, Johnny pleads “Mate, talk to me, where did you get it?”, Johnny whimpers “Kyle tell me it’s not theirs, Kyle please, Kyle say something”.

Kyle doesn’t know what to do other than wrap himself around Soap and hold him despite the thrashing, despite the disbelieving laughter that descends into gasping for air and clawing at his back and shoulders.

Kyle doesn’t let him get out and do something stupid, like drive to the cemetery and wrap a car around the poll and curl near your gravestone.

There is an awfully loud gulp and the journal is getting carefully taken off Kyle’s lap, Simon’s fingers long and scarred — things broken too many times to grown back straight and narrow, calloused pads of his fingers catching on the paper of the notebook.

Kyle has to drag him down to them, he has to practically kick the ground from under Ghost’s feet because the man looks like he will get the shovel and get you out of the coffin.

(Kyle doesn’t want to think how Simon refused to let them bury you, how he sat with you for days, until the decomposition became evident. Kyle doesn’t want to think how Simon placed a phone in your coffin despite knowing that you are not coming back. Kyle doesn’t want to think that Simon was terrified the 4 of them might bury you alive).

Ghost looks like the sky just fell on his head, crashing his spine and grinding down his nerves. Ghost looks like he wants to cry but doesn’t know how.

Ghost looks like how they all feel.

Kyle forces the man into their cuddle pile and forces his hand to wrap around Johnny, because Soap digs his fingers into them like he’s falling-falling-falling. System crashing, bomb ticking, Rome burning down.

Funny how Ghost never understood the phrase “going mad with grief”, always felt like it was a bit of dramatisation. People die every day after all, don’t they? It’s statistically impossible to never lose a single person.

Funny how Soap gets it now perfectly. The shift of tectonic plates in his brain, the rewiring of the whole system, pain so intense he might have ash for heart now.

Funny how it’s not funny at all but Gaz still laughs, face wet when Simon tightens his grip and pulls Kyle in, letting him hide his face.

Taglist: @synthe4u

[walkingstackofbooks]

"Who else is going to put up with all that?" - His friends! Many of whom initally did go through a period of "putting up with" his annoying-ness, but grew to love him deeply, despite - or even because of - his annoying traits.

Very understandable that you don't believe you'd gel with his personality if you met him real life - I won't deny that he's annoying! But it's hardly a miracle that he's found one person, Garak, who likes him, when he's found many people who enjoy his company and choose to spend time with him 💕💕

I've got to be honest: I think Julian Bashir is annoying. Garak is too, to be clear! They're both very compelling, interesting, layered characters, but I would not wish to spend any time with either of them in real life. Frankly a miracle that they find each other because who else is going to put up with all that.

[agnesmontague]

not to make it weird but i love dead women characters so so much. people love to write a dead woman to haunt the narrative so they can have the mystique of a woman without the extra work of writing her as a person but that's always what appeals to me so much. bc she WAS a person. everyone knows about rebecca by du maurier but i think the ghost of a dead woman coming back, either with a vengeance or just by obsessing the people who knew her, is simply wonderful in all forms. even in death they cannot extinguish her, and if the narrative can't be assed to be interested in her i will

[jupiterpilgrim]

Stolen Rendezvous

Karina x Male Reader

word count: 20K

commissioned fic

There’s nothing better than this—no overprotective parents watching your every move, no ridiculous rules about “focus” and “priorities,” no feeling like a fugitive every time you even think about touching her. Just you, her, and the freedom that comes with a empty house, stretching out before you like a playground with no fences.

Because normally? Seeing Karina like this is impossible. Her parents made sure of that. They’ve been drilling the same rule into her head for years—No dating until after college. No distractions, no boys, no late-night calls or sneaking out for secret dates. She’s supposed to be focused, disciplined, dedicated to nothing but her studies and her “future.” They don’t care that she’s a grown woman, that she’s more than capable of balancing school and a relationship. To them, love is just another distraction, another thing standing in the way of their perfect, high-achieving daughter.

And when they found out about you? All hell broke loose.

They showed up at your house—uninvited, pissed off, and ready for war. Sat your parents down in the living room like they were negotiating some hostage situation, talking about “respect” and “boundaries” and how you were ruining Karina’s focus. They made it clear—they didn’t want you anywhere near their daughter. And somehow, in their effort to “keep the peace,” your parents caved. Maybe they didn’t want drama, maybe they just thought it’d be easier to go along with it, but either way, they sat you down after and gave you the same bullshit speech—no more Karina. No more sneaking around. No more chances.

So every moment with her has to be stolen. Every touch, every kiss, every second you get together—it’s always in secret. You can’t meet up at cafes or go on dates like a normal couple. You can’t hold her hand in public without looking over your shoulder. Every plan has to be airtight. Every risk calculated.

But tonight? Tonight, you don’t have to worry about any of that.

The second your parents left—bags packed, off to rekindle their love or whatever the hell couples do on their anniversary—you grabbed your phone and sent the text: All clear.

And now she's at your door. And fuck...

She looks like temptation itself wrapped in casual clothes.

She’s wearing a loose sweatshirt—oversized and comfortable—draped over those thick, juicy thighs of hers, and a pair of tiny shorts that barely peek out from beneath the hem. Her legs are smooth, soft, always irresistible, and when she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, the way her thighs press together has your throat tightening. Her chest strains the fabric of the sweatshirt, her curves impossible to ignore, but it’s her face that always gets you—the delicate doll-like features, the plump lips you could kiss forever, the big, expressive eyes that go from playful to needy in the blink of a eye.

“You’re staring.” She tilts her head, smirking.

“Because you’re hot,” you shoot back, grabbing her wrist and pulling her inside before the neighbors get a show they didn’t pay for.

She giggles, pressing up against you, arms winding around your neck as she buries her face in your chest. The warmth of her body seeps through your clothes, and you let your hands roam down, settling on her waist, pulling her even closer.

“I missed you,” she murmurs.

“You saw me two days ago.”

She pouts, smacking your chest lightly. “Two days is a long time.”

Yeah. You get it. Two days without her feels like forever.

You guide her to the couch, the plan already set. Snacks, movies, then sex—simple, predictable, perfect. A few hours to pretend you’re a normal couple, not two people sneaking around behind the backs of parents who think they know best.

You settle in, Karina curling up against you, her head on your chest while you scroll through movie options. You let her pick—she always wants rom-coms, but you don’t care what’s on the screen when she’s curled up against you like this, warm and soft, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your stomach.

She picks something sappy, some over-the-top romance where the leads fall in love in the span of two days and confess their feelings in the pouring rain. You don’t pay much attention. You’re too busy watching her.

She gets so into it, reacting to every emotional beat like it’s happening to her. She laughs at the stupid jokes, gasps at the dramatic reveals, clutches your hand when things get intense. And when the couple finally kisses, she turns her face up to you expectantly, eyes wide, lips slightly parted.

You take the hint.

The kiss is slow at first, soft and teasing. Her lips are warm, familiar, addictive. You kiss her again, deeper this time, hand sliding up under her sweatshirt, fingers skimming over the smooth skin of her waist. She shivers, pressing closer, her fingers tightening in your shirt.

“Mmm… I love kissing you,” she breathes, pulling back just enough to look at you.

“You love a lot of things about me.”

She giggles, poking your side. “Cocky.”

“Accurate.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, instead shifting to straddle your lap, the movie completely forgotten. Her fingers slide into your hair, her body pressing against yours, soft in all the best ways. Your hands find her hips, gripping, squeezing, mapping out every curve like you haven’t already memorized them a thousand times over.

“You’re insatiable,” you murmur against her lips.

She grins. “You like it.”

Yeah. You do. You like everything about her.

“So, you told them you were studying, huh?” You glance down at her, smirking as your fingers tease at the hem of her sweatshirt, tracing idle patterns on her bare thigh.

Karina hums, her lips brushing against your jaw. “Mhm. Told them I was staying at Giselle’s place for a study session.”

You snort. “Not entirely a lie.” You let your hands slip lower, grabbing two handfuls of that perfect, thick ass, squeezing just enough to make her squeak. “We’re gonna study some anatomy.”

She giggles, pressing closer. “You’re so dumb.”

“But you love it.”

She just smiles, tilting her head, and that look—soft, adoring, almost too much—hits you harder than expected. Then, quieter, she says, “You know, I think this whole ‘no dating’ rule is backfiring.”

You raise a brow. “Oh yeah?”

She shifts, hands playing with the collar of your shirt. “They want me to focus on college, right? But when I’m away from you, I can’t concentrate on anything.” Her voice drops slightly, a confession slipping through. “All I think about is you.”

That lands differently. Not teasing, not playful—just honest. And it knocks the breath right out of you.

You don’t answer with words. You don’t have to. You cup her jaw, tilt her chin up, and kiss her, slow and deep. She melts against you, her fingers curling into your shirt, a little hum escaping into your mouth.

When you pull back, she blinks up at you, lips kiss-swollen, cheeks flushed. “Can we go to your room?”

You know what she means.

You stand without hesitation, sliding your hands under her thighs and lifting her off the couch with ease. She yelps, wrapping her arms around your neck, legs locking around your waist.

“Show-off,” she huffs, but she’s grinning.

“You love that too,” you murmur against her temple, carrying her through the dimly lit hallway.

She presses her face into your neck, exhaling softly. “I missed your bed.”

You push the door open with your shoulder. “You just missed getting wrecked in it.”

She laughs, biting your shoulder in retaliation, and the sound is so sweet, so familiar, that your chest tightens with something deeper than just desire.

You lower her onto the mattress, and she gazes up at you, eyes heavy-lidded, pupils wide. And just like that, the night really begins.

Your shirt hits the floor first, followed by hers. The fabric slides off her smooth shoulders, pooling at her feet. The dim light from your bedside lamp casts soft shadows on her skin, highlighting every curve, every dip, every inch of her you’ve memorized by heart.

Your hands work on your jeans, popping the button, dragging the zipper down slow. She follows your lead, slipping her shorts down those thick thighs of hers, the motion teasing, unintentional or not.

By the time you’re both left in just your underwear, she finally glances down—and that’s when she sees it.

The bulge in your briefs is obvious, straining against the fabric, and her reaction is instant. Her lips part slightly, eyes darkening with unmistakable hunger, the kind that makes your blood run hot. Her thighs press together on instinct, like she’s already feeling that telltale ache, already impatient.

“You’re excited,” you tease, watching her reaction.

She doesn’t even pretend otherwise. Instead, she bites her lip, stepping closer, fingertips barely grazing your stomach. “Can you blame me?”

You chuckle, reaching for her waist, pulling her in. “I was missing your taste.”

The words land exactly how you expect. Her breath stutters, her grip on your skin tightening. Her eyes flicker up to yours, something unspoken passing between you before her hands move again—this time to her back, fingers finding the clasp of her bra.

You watch, completely enraptured, as she unhooks it with practiced ease. But instead of letting it fall right away, she holds it in place, eyes darting toward the open door.

“…Lock it,” she murmurs.

You raise a brow, amused. “Babe, you can relax. No one’s showing up. My parents are miles away by now.”

She hesitates, glancing at the door again. “Just in case.”

You sigh, but you don’t argue.

You move, crossing the room in a few strides, twisting the lock into place. The soft click is barely noticeable, but it seems to be all the reassurance she needs.

Because when you turn back around, her bra is gone. And fuck—

Her massive tits are right there, bare and perfect, skin smooth, curves soft, nipples already slightly stiff from the cool air. She’s standing there, completely confident now, watching you watch her. And she likes it.

Your throat feels dry. Your cock throbs.

Yeah. This night is only getting better.

Your body moves before your brain even catches up. One second you’re standing there, staring like a idiot at her perfect, heavy tits, and the next, you’re on her.

Your hands find her waist first, gripping, pulling her in as your mouth crashes against hers. It’s messy, eager, all lips and tongue, the heat between you flaring instantly. She gasps against your mouth, but she doesn’t hesitate to kiss back, fingers threading into your hair, tugging just enough to make you groan.

You walk her backward, guiding her toward the bed without breaking the kiss. The back of her legs hit the mattress, and you don’t give her time to think before easing her down, following her, pressing your weight against her soft, warm body.

Your hands roam without direction, purely instinctual—her waist, her hips, the smooth dip of her stomach. But when your fingers finally reach her chest, when you finally cup one of those gorgeous, heavy tits in your palm, it’s like something inside you ignites.

She sighs at the contact, arching into your touch like she’s been waiting for it. And she’s so soft.

You squeeze, fingers flexing, feeling the perfect weight of her in your palm. Your thumb brushes over a stiffening nipple, and the reaction is instant—her breath hitches, her body tenses for just a second before she relaxes into it, lips parting in a quiet whimper.

Your mouth finds her neck next, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of her throat. She tilts her head to the side, giving you more access, more skin to taste, more of her to claim. You take full advantage, biting, sucking, marking.

Sliding down, you move lower, kissing your way down her collarbone, her sternum, until your lips finally meet soft, bare skin.

Your mouth latches onto one of her perfect tits, tongue swirling around the stiff peak before sucking hard.

She shudders. Her fingers clutch at your hair, thighs squeezing together, a gasp slipping from her lips that sounds more like a plea than anything else. “Oh my God…”

Your other hand isn’t idle. While your tongue works on one breast, your fingers knead the other, squeezing, teasing, rolling her nipple between your fingertips. She’s a mess beneath you, breathing hard, squirming, already slipping into that space where all she can focus on is you and how good you’re making her feel.

You suck harder, teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp.

She moans outright this time, thighs shifting restlessly beneath you, back arching slightly, offering herself up like she needs more, like she can’t get enough. Neither can you.

Your mouth stays latched onto her breast, tongue swirling, lips sucking, taking in the warmth and softness of her. Her skin tastes faintly sweet, her body heat rising under your touch. Every time your tongue flicks over her nipple, she makes the prettiest little sound—half moan, half whimper. Her fingers stay tangled in your hair, clutching, pulling you closer like she never wants you to stop.

And fuck, you don’t want to stop.

You shift slightly, settling more comfortably between her legs, your body pressed against hers. Your free hand kneads her other breast, fingers rolling her nipple between them, squeezing just right. The way she reacts—hips twitching, thighs pressing against your sides—has your cock throbbing, the heat pooling in your gut growing unbearable.

“Shit,” she breathes out, voice trembling, her back arching into your mouth. “You’re so—fuck, you’re so good at that.”

You smirk against her skin, biting down gently before soothing the mark with your tongue. “I know.”

She lets out a breathy laugh, but it dissolves into a moan when you suck harder, drawing more of her into your mouth. Her legs shift again, thighs clenching like she’s desperate for friction. And then—

Her hand moves.

Between the two of you, slipping down, fingers tracing along your stomach, your abs, then lower, until—fuck.

She palms your cock over your underwear, her fingers pressing against the fabric, feeling just how hard you already are for her. Your whole body reacts—hips jerking slightly, a sharp inhale through your teeth as the pleasure spikes instantly.

“Rina,” you groan, voice low, strained.

She giggles, breathy and teasing. “Mmm, you’re so hard already.” Her fingers press down more, rubbing up and down your length through the fabric, the teasing touch enough to make your head spin. “Is this for me?”

“Who the fuck else would it be for?” You can barely get the words out, already losing yourself in the way she’s touching you.

She hums in satisfaction, her hand moving slower, deliberately teasing, driving you insane. “You missed me that much?”

You lift your head from her chest, meeting her gaze. Her lips are parted, her cheeks flushed, her eyes dark with heat. She knows exactly what she’s doing to you, and she’s enjoying every second of it.

“You have no idea,” you murmur.

Her fingers slip beneath the waistband of your underwear, just barely brushing against bare skin, and you curse under your breath.

She leans in, lips ghosting against your ear as she whispers, “I want you to fuck me hard tonight.”

Your whole body tenses. A fresh wave of arousal crashes through you, burning, consuming, making your cock twitch in her hand.

You grip her hips, fingers digging in, your self-control hanging by a thread. “You keep talking like that, and I won’t be able to hold back.”

Her breath is warm against your skin. “Good. I don’t want you to.”

Your hands move without hesitation, sliding down her body, fingertips grazing over her hips before hooking into the waistband of her panties. You tug them down, slowly, savoring the way the thin fabric peels away from her skin, the way her breath hitches as she lifts her hips just enough to help you. And then—fuck.

Her pussy is already glistening, slick coating her soft folds, her arousal shining under the dim light of your room. She’s so wet, so ready, all because of you.

Your cock twitches in response, straining against the last barrier between you. But you don’t rush. No, you take a moment, drinking in the sight of her, the flushed skin, the way her thighs clench slightly, the way she bites her lip as she watches you take her in.

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until she leans in, fingers sliding under the waistband of your underwear, her touch feather-light, teasing. “These need to come off too.”

You don’t argue. You lift your hips, dragging your underwear down, letting your cock spring free. The relief is instant, the cool air hitting your heated skin, but that’s nothing compared to the way Karina looks at you—eyes dropping to your length, pupils dilating, breath catching in her throat. She swallows, shifting slightly, and you don’t miss the way her thighs squeeze together again.

“Fuck,” she whispers, almost to herself. “I missed this.”

You smirk, reaching for her, pulling her close again as you murmur against her lips, “Then stop wasting time.”

She giggles, but it’s cut off as your lips meet again, the kiss deep, heated, consuming. Your hands roam her body, tracing every familiar curve, every inch of her you’ve memorized. She shifts, adjusting, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of your hips as she straddles you, her bare skin flush against yours. The warmth of her, the heat radiating from between her legs, has your pulse skyrocketing.

She moves, grinding down slightly, and the feeling of her wetness sliding against your cock has you both gasping into the kiss.

You grip her hips, steadying her, voice rough with need. “Fuck, Karina—”

She just smiles, breathless, adjusting her position, lifting herself slightly. You feel the slick head of your cock brush against her entrance, teasing, her arousal smearing over you. And then, slowly, deliberately, she begins to sink down onto you.

She sinks down slowly at first, her body stretching to accommodate you, the slick heat of her pussy gripping you tightly. Her breath hitches, and her nails dig into your shoulders, a sharp contrast to the soft moan that spills from her lips. You watch, mesmerized, as her eyes flutter shut for a moment, her mouth falling open slightly, taking in the fullness, the delicious stretch as she settles onto you completely.

“Fuck,” she breathes, rolling her hips experimentally, adjusting to the way you fill her. “You feel so good.”

Your fingers tighten on her hips, barely holding back the urge to thrust up into her, to take control, to fuck her hard just like she asked. But this moment—her, on top of you, in complete control—it’s intoxicating.

She braces herself, palms pressed against your chest as she lifts her hips, just enough to leave you aching for more before she slides back down. The movement is slow, deliberate, teasing.

“God, I missed this,” she murmurs, rolling her hips again, sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through both of you.

Your hands move on instinct, tracing the curve of her waist before sliding up, fingers closing around her bouncing tits. They’re so fucking perfect—full, soft, warm under your touch. You squeeze, thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples, and the reaction is immediate.

She moans, head tilting back slightly, a shiver running down her spine. “Fuck, baby—”

The way she says it, all breathless and needy, makes your restraint snap. You thrust up into her, meeting her movements, drawing a sharp gasp from her throat. Her pace quickens. She moves faster now, riding you with more urgency, her big tits bouncing with every motion. The wet sound of her slick pussy taking you in again and again fills the room, mixing with her moans, with your own ragged breaths.

“You have no idea,” she gasps between movements, hands gripping your chest for support. “No idea how much I think about this when I’m not with you. How much I want you.”

Your fingers dig into her waist, guiding her movements, pushing her down harder, deeper. “Tell me,” you demand, voice rough with need.

She whimpers, her rhythm faltering for a moment as another sharp wave of pleasure hits her. “I—I touch myself thinking about you,” she confesses, cheeks flushed, body trembling. “Late at night, when I can’t sleep—when I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it—” That does something to you. The thought of her alone, needy, fingers buried between her legs as she thought about this, about you—fuck.

You sit up abruptly, wrapping your arms around her, pressing her flush against you. Her breath stutters, but she doesn’t stop moving. If anything, she moves harder, faster, chasing that high, her body trembling in your arms.

You kiss her, swallowing her moans, pouring every ounce of want, of love, into it. She melts into you, gripping the back of your neck, holding on as she keeps moving, her body grinding against yours in a unrelenting rhythm, her wet heat squeezing around your cock with every bounce. Her tits jiggle with every motion, perfect and soft, her nipples flushed and stiff, her skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat. She’s breathtaking like this—completely lost in it, moaning freely, her lips parted as she gasps for air.

“You make me so fucking horny,” she breathes, rolling her hips in a way that makes you groan. “Every time I see you, every time I even think about you—I get wet. So fucking wet.”

Your grip on her waist tightens, fingers pressing into her soft skin. Fuck. She knows exactly what she’s doing to you, the way her words hit just as hard as the way she moves.

Your self-control is slipping, your body burning with need, the hunger growing unbearable. You let her ride you a little longer, soaking in the way she moves, the way her pussy clenches around you, so hot and tight, but the pressure in your gut is reaching its peak. You need more. You need to take her.

Without warning, you grab her and flip her onto her back. She lets out a surprised gasp, her hair splaying across the pillow, eyes wide with excitement. You barely give her a second to react before you’re between her legs, spreading her open, positioning yourself over her.

“Fuck,” she whimpers, her thighs twitching as you grip them.

You hook your hands under her knees, lifting her legs, pressing them back slightly to open her up even more. She looks so fucking good like this, spread out beneath you, completely at your mercy, her glistening pussy aching for you.

And you don’t make her wait. You thrust into her, hard. Her back arches instantly, a cry tearing from her throat, her hands gripping the sheets.

“Yes—fuck, yes—”

You set a brutal pace, your hips snapping against hers, the wet sound of skin meeting skin filling the room. Every thrust makes her body jolt, her tits bouncing, her breath coming in desperate, broken moans.

“You love it like this,” you growl, voice thick with lust.

“Yes—god, yes—” she gasps, her nails dragging down your arms.

You grip her thighs tighter, holding her steady, driving into her with deep, relentless strokes. Her walls squeeze around you, clenching tighter every time you hit that perfect spot inside her, every time your cock stretches her in just the right way. She’s completely unraveling beneath you. Her head tilts back, her mouth open, moans spilling out without restraint.

“More,” she whimpers, voice trembling. “Please—don’t stop—”

You don’t. You keep fucking her, hips slamming against hers, the wet slap of your bodies filling the room. Every thrust drives her further into the mattress, her back arching, her tits bouncing in perfect rhythm.

And fuck—you can’t take your eyes off them. They’re so full, so soft, moving with every thrust, flushed from arousal. Your hands itch to grab them, to squeeze them, to claim every inch of her body as yours. But before you can, Karina beats you to it.

She moans, her head tilting back, and then—

Her hands slide up her own body, fingers gliding over her stomach before she cups her own tits, squeezing. Your cock twitches inside her.

“Fuck,” you groan, gripping her thighs tighter, your pace stuttering for half a second.

She whimpers at your reaction, pushing her tits together, rolling her thumbs over her stiff nipples. “You like that?” she teases breathlessly, though her voice shakes from how hard you’re fucking her.

“You know I do,” you growl, thrusting into her deeper, making her gasp.

She moans louder, fingers pinching her own nipples, her pussy clenching around you. “I love how you look at me,” she admits, voice trembling. “Like you wanna ruin me.”

“I do.” Your thrusts turn rougher, harder. “And I will.”

She gasps, her back arching, her grip on her own tits tightening as pleasure surges through her. Her thighs tremble, her moans turning into breathless cries.

You keep thrusting, faster, savoring the way her pussy grips you, hot and wet and perfect. But you want more. You want to see her completely fall apart.

Your hand slides down her body, fingers trailing over her stomach, her hips, until you reach where you’re connected. She whines, her thighs tensing as your fingers brush against her clit. You know how sensitive she is there, how just the slightest touch can send her spiraling.

“Fuck, baby,” she whimpers, her voice shaky, her hands still on her tits. “Don’t—don’t tease me.”

You smirk, your fingers circling her clit, slow and deliberate. “Who’s teasing?” you murmur, watching her face as her breath hitches. “I’m just giving you what you want.”

She moans, her back arching off the bed, her hips grinding against your hand. “You’re such a asshole,” she breathes, but there’s no bite to it. Her eyes are half-lidded, her lips swollen from biting them, and she’s so fucking beautiful like this.

You press harder, your fingers moving faster, and she lets out a sharp cry, her hands finally leaving her tits to grip the sheets instead. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—” she chants, her thighs trembling, her pussy clenching around you. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop—”

You don’t. You keep rubbing her clit, your thrusts steady, your cock hitting that spot inside her that makes her see stars. She’s writhing beneath you, her moans getting louder, more desperate, and you know she’s close. But you’re not letting her cum yet. Not yet.

“You’re so fucking wet,” you growl, your voice rough with need. “You love this, don’t you? Love me fucking you like this?”

She nods frantically, her nails digging into the sheets. “Yes, yes, I love it—fuck, I love you—”

Her words hit you like a punch to the chest, and for a second, you lose your rhythm. But you recover quickly, leaning down to capture her lips in a messy, desperate kiss. She kisses you back just as hard, her tongue sliding against yours, her moans muffled against your mouth.

When you pull back, she’s panting, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed. “I mean it,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

And you kiss her again, your hand still working her clit, your cock still buried deep inside her. She moans into your mouth, her hips rocking against you, and you know she’s close.

Because you can feel it—the tension in her body, the way her pussy clenches around you, the way her breath hitches every time your fingers brush her clit. So fucking close. And you’re not holding back anymore.

You slam into her, hard and fast, your hips snapping against hers, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. Your fingers work her clit in tight, quick circles, and she lets out a strangled cry, her back arching off the bed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” she babbles, her hands clawing at the sheets, her thighs trembling. “I can’t—I’m gonna—oh my God, I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me, baby,” you growl, your voice low and rough, your own breath coming in short, uneven gasps. “Cum all over my cock. Let me feel it.”

She whimpers, her eyes squeezing shut, her body tensing like a coiled spring. And then—fuck. She explodes.

Her pussy clenches around you, tight and wet, and she lets out a scream that’s half pleasure, half desperation. Her hips buck against yours, her thighs shaking, and then—fuck—she squirts. Hard.

It’s messy. So fucking messy. Her juices gush out, soaking the sheets beneath her, and you don’t stop. You keep fucking her, your cock driving into her as she trembles and writhes, her body convulsing with wave after wave of pleasure.

“Oh my God, oh my God—” she gasps, her voice breaking, her hands flying to her face like she’s trying to hide from the intensity of it. “I can’t—I can’t stop—fuck, it’s too much—”

But you don’t stop. You can’t. You’re too far gone, too lost in the way she feels around you, the way she’s falling apart beneath you. You keep thrusting, your fingers still working her clit, and she lets out another scream, her body jerking as another gush of wetness spills out of her.

“That’s it, baby,” you murmur, your voice strained, your own pleasure building. “Let it all out. Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect.”

She’s a mess—her hair sticking to her forehead, her skin slick with sweat, her body trembling like a leaf in the wind. But she’s beautiful. So fucking beautiful. And you can’t get enough of her.

You lean down, pressing your forehead against hers, your breath mingling with hers as you keep fucking her through her orgasm. Her hands find your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin, and she lets out a broken sob, her body still shaking.

“I can’t—I can’t—” she whimpers, her voice a whisper now, her eyes rolling back in her head. “It’s too much—fuck, it’s too much—”

But you don’t stop. You can’t. You’re too close, too desperate, too lost in her. You keep thrusting, your cock hitting that spot inside her that makes her see stars, and she lets out another cry, her pussy clenching around you again.

“Fuck, baby,” you groan, your voice rough, your hips stuttering. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

She nods frantically, her hands sliding down to grip your hips, pulling you deeper. “Yes, yes—fuck, cum in me—please—”

Her words are all it takes. You slam into her one last time, your cock pulsing as you spill your hot cum inside her, your own orgasm crashing over you like a wave. She lets out a soft moan, her body still trembling, her pussy milking every last drop out of you.

You collapse on top of her, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your heart pounding in your chest. She wraps her arms around you, pulling you close, her face buried in your neck.

“Fuck,” she whispers, her voice shaky, her body still trembling. “That was… fuck.”

You chuckle, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Yeah. It was.”

She lets out a soft laugh. “You’re gonna have to buy new sheets.”

You glance down at the mess beneath you—the soaked sheets, the puddle of her cum, the way her body is still twitching with aftershocks—and you can’t help but grin. “Worth it.”

She giggles, her cheeks flushing, and she buries her face in your chest. “You’re such a asshole.”

“But you love me,” you tease, your fingers brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

She looks up at you, her eyes soft, her lips curving into a smile. “Yeah. I do.”

You kiss her, slow and deep, your body still tangled with hers. Her skin is damp, her breath still unsteady, and she’s curled up against you like she never wants to move again. And fuck—you were about to go again, your cock still achingly hard, pressing against her thigh, ready to slide right back inside her. But then—

The front door opens.

Shit.

Every muscle in your body locks up, and you feel Karina freeze against you, her breath catching in her throat. The sound of footsteps echoes down the hall—your parents. You can tell from the weight of their steps, the familiarity of it.

You were supposed to have the whole damn weekend. Why the fuck are they back?

Karina grabs your arm, eyes wide with panic. “Oh my god,” she whispers, voice barely audible. “What do we do?”

You don’t know. Your brain is still struggling to shift gears, still stuck on the feeling of her wet, trembling body under you. But there’s no time to think, no time to even process what’s happening.

Your eyes dart around the room, searching for somewhere—anywhere—for her to hide. Under the bed? No way, there’s barely any space. Closet? Not a option—too full of shit.

Fuck.

You hear them getting closer, the sound of their voices, their footsteps nearing your door. There’s no time.

“Stay in bed,” you hiss, grabbing the blankets and yanking them over her, covering her completely. “Don’t move, don’t make a sound.”

Karina barely has time to nod before you’re scrambling out of bed, snatching up your underwear and pulling them on with the kind of frantic desperation you never thought you’d experience. Your cock is still half-hard, sticky with Karina’s arousal, but you ignore it, yanking your pants up just as the doorknob rattles.

Locked.

Thank fuck.

You take a deep breath, running a hand through your messy hair, trying to look even remotely normal before reaching for the lock. Your heart is pounding so hard you can hear it in your ears.

You turn the knob, pulling the door open just enough to see them standing there.

Your mom frowns slightly. “Why was the door locked?”

Your dad crosses his arms, eyeing you suspiciously. “And why do you look like you just ran a marathon?”

Shit. Think. Think.

You force a laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “Uh—just, uh, napping. Didn’t want to be disturbed.”

Your mom sighs. “Well, sorry to wake you, but we had to come back early.”

Your stomach twists. “Why?”

Your dad shakes his head. “Long story. We’ll tell you in the kitchen. Come on.”

You nod quickly, trying to seem casual. “Yeah—yeah, sure, just, uh, give me a sec.”

They turn, heading back down the hall, and you shut the door, locking it again immediately before turning back to the bed.

Karina peeks out from under the blankets, her big, worried eyes searching your face. She’s still breathing fast, her body still flushed from everything you’d been doing just minutes ago, but now all that heat is mixed with anxiety. The sound of your parents’ voices in the hall makes it worse.

“What the fuck do we do now?” she whispers.

“We wait,” you whisper back, crouching beside the bed. “Once they go to sleep, you can slip out quietly.”

She bites her lip, nodding slowly, but she doesn’t look convinced. “What if they don’t sleep for hours?”

“They will,” you reassure her, even though you’re not entirely sure yourself. “They look exhausted.”

She exhales sharply, still frustrated. “This night was supposed to be perfect.”

“I know,” you murmur, guilt creeping into your voice. You reach for her hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry, baby. I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

She holds onto your fingers for a moment, her grip tight. Then, reluctantly, she nods. “You better.”

“I will,” you promise.

You give her one last look before forcing yourself to turn away, straightening your clothes and running a hand through your hair to make yourself look as normal as possible. Then, with one deep breath, you slip out of your room and head to the living room.

Your parents are already sitting down, looking exhausted, their bags by the door. Your mother glances up as you enter, and immediately, her eyes narrow.

“Why are there two cups in the sink?” she asks. “And why are there so many eaten snacks on the table?”

Fuck, you forgot to clean up. The couch is still a mess from when you and Karina were cuddling, empty snack wrappers scattered on the coffee table, two mugs sitting in the sink like a accusation.

Think. Think.

“I, uh—I had a friend over earlier,” you say quickly, trying to sound casual. “Just, you know, hanging out.”

Your dad rubs his face, sighing. “Who?”

You shrug. “Just a friend. We watched a movie, had some snacks. That’s it.”

Your mother doesn’t look entirely convinced, but she doesn’t push it—at least, not yet.

“Why’d you guys come back early?” you ask, desperate to change the subject.

Your dad exhales, looking annoyed. “The hotel had plumbing issues. Water started leaking in our bathroom. They couldn’t move us to another room because they were fully booked.”

Your mother shakes her head. “We figured it wasn’t worth dealing with all that for a weekend trip, so we decided to just drive back.”

Lucky fucking you.

You nod slowly, trying to act sympathetic while also praying that Karina doesn’t make a noise in the other room.

Your mom sighs, leaning back into the couch. “And honestly, I just want to shower and go to bed. This whole thing has been exhausting.”

Good. Sleep. That’s what you need.

But then—

She suddenly sniffs the air, her brows furrowing.

“What’s that smell?” she asks.

Your heart nearly stops.

“…What smell?” you ask, forcing your voice to stay steady.

My mom looks around, sniffing again. “It smells like perfume.”

Fuck. Karina.

Her scent is all over you. All over your sheets, your skin, probably the entire damn room. And your mom is picking up on it.

Your father frowns slightly. “Perfume?”

Your mom nods. “Yes, it’s faint, but it’s there. It doesn’t smell like anything I own.”

You scramble for a excuse. “Uh—maybe it’s my new deodorant or something?”

Your mom gives you a suspicious look but doesn’t argue. “Maybe,” she mutters.

You need to get out of here. Now.

“Anyway,” you say quickly, stretching your arms. “I’m gonna head back to my room. Long day. You guys should get some rest too.”

Your parents exchange glances, but they’re too tired to question you further.

As soon as you’re in the hallway, you move quickly, slipping back into your room and locking the door behind you.

Karina is still under the covers, staring at you with wide eyes.

“What happened?” she whispers.

You sigh, rubbing your face. “They almost smelled you.”

She blinks. Then, her lips twitch in amusement. “You mean my perfume?”

“Yes, your perfume,” you hiss. “Now we just need to wait for them to fall asleep, and then you can leave.”

She exhales softly, nodding. “Alright. But you owe me a better night than this.”

“I know,” you murmur.

You sit side by side, both of you still quiet, still listening for any sign of movement from the rest of the house. Karina is curled up close to you, her skin warm against yours, her breath slow but not entirely steady. Every now and then, her fingers twitch against your thigh, like she’s thinking about something…

“I wanna fuck again.”

You blink, turning to look at her, suspicious. “Karina—” But she’s already shifting, already climbing onto your lap, her bare skin pressing against you, her thighs straddling yours. She’s still completely naked, her tits right in front of your face, her pussy just barely grazing over your still-hard cock.

You inhale sharply, gripping her waist. “Babe. No.”

She leans in, brushing her lips over yours, teasing, playful. “Why not?”

“Because,” you murmur, barely restraining yourself. “It’s too risky.” She doesn’t care. She kisses you fully this time, her tongue flicking out, hot and wet and fucking intoxicating. Her hands slide over your chest, nails dragging lightly over your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“Still horny,” she breathes against your lips. “I need you again.”

You groan, trying to keep some semblance of self-control. “Karina, we—” She reaches down between your bodies, fingers wrapping around your cock through your pants.

And fuck—all logical thought leaves your brain.

She strokes you slowly, deliberately, and when she speaks again, her voice is soft but firm. “I know you’re horny too.”

She’s right. Fuck, she’s right. You’ve been hard this entire time, your body still aching for another release. And with her like this, naked, pressing against you, her lips grazing your jaw—it’s too much.

She gasps as you grab her suddenly, your hands firm on her waist as you lift her off your lap. You react quickly, shoving your pants and underwear down, freeing your cock. You move her to the bed, laying her on her side, pressing in close behind her. She doesn’t resist. She lets you move her, mold her, her breath coming out in soft little pants as she waits for you. You push her leg up slightly, opening her just enough. And then you slide inside.

The heat of her, the slick, tight grip of her pussy around you—it’s fucking bliss. She moans, her back arching slightly, her fingers curling into the sheets. “Fuck—” she gasps, her body shuddering at the stretch. You kiss her neck, your hand gripping the soft flesh of her waist, holding her steady as you push deeper, filling her completely.

She whimpers, pressing back against you. “God, you feel so good—” You start moving, slow at first, savoring every inch of her, feeling the way her body reacts to every thrust. Her pussy clenches around you, her breath coming in sharp little gasps, her back arching with every stroke.

She’s perfect like this—soft and warm in your arms, her body completely yours. Your hips snap forward, her ass grinds against you with every thrust, her soft thighs trembling as you hold her leg hooked over your arm. Your hands slide up her body, fingers digging into the meat of her tits, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp.

“Fuck—fuck—” she whines, her voice cracking as you hit that spot deep inside her. Her head tilts back against your shoulder, lips parted, breath hitching. “Don’t—don’t stop, please—”

You don’t. The wet slap of your hips against her ass fills the room, louder than you’d like, but there’s no hiding it now. Not with how her pussy grips you, hot and slick, fluttering every time you bottom out. Her tits spill through your fingers, nipples stiff and begging for attention, and you pinch one hard, twisting just enough to make her yelp.

She claps a hand over her mouth too late, the sound muffled but still sharp. Her eyes dart to the door, wide and panicked, but her body betrays her—hips rocking back to meet your thrusts, greedy, needy. “Quiet, baby,” you growl into her ear, your free hand sliding down to her clit, fingers rubbing rough circles. “You wanna get us caught?”

She shakes her head frantically, sweat-damp hair sticking to her forehead, but her pussy clenches around you anyway, like her body’s laughing at the idea of staying silent. Her thighs quiver, her toes curling into the sheets as you fuck her harder, deeper, your cock stretching her in ways that make her whimper.

“I can’t—I can’t—” she whines, voice breaking as you grind into her, your thumb pressing harder on her clit. “It’s too much—you’re too much—” You bite her shoulder, teeth sinking into soft skin, and she jerks against you, a choked moan escaping her throat. The bed creaks dangerously beneath you, the headboard tapping the wall in a rhythm that’s way too obvious. But stopping isn’t a option—not when she’s this wet, this desperate, her juices dripping down your cock, soaking the sheets beneath her.

Her hand claws at your thigh, nails biting into your skin as you drive into her. “Slower—please—” she begs, but her hips keep rolling, grinding back against you like she’s chasing her own ruin.

“You don’t mean that,” you mutter, gripping her hip tighter, angling your thrusts to hit that spongy spot inside her. She chokes on a sob, her back arching, tits heaving as her breath comes in ragged gasps.

The room smells like sex—sweat, her perfume, the musk of her arousal clinging to every surface. Her legs tremble, her thighs slick where they press against yours, and you can feel her teetering on the edge, that tight coil in her gut winding tighter with every snap of your hips.

“Gonna cum?” you taunt, your voice low, rough. Your fingers leave her clit, sliding down to grip her thigh instead, spreading her wider. “Go ahead. Cum for me.”

She shakes her head, tears pooling in her eyes from the effort of holding back. “No—no—I can’t—”

But her body doesn’t care. Her thighs clamp around your hips as you thrust into her, her nails digging into your shoulders hard enough to leave marks. Her head is thrown back, lips parted in silent gasps, her tits bouncing with every snap of your hips. You lean down, mouth latching onto her neck, sucking bruises into her skin while your fingers find her clit again—swollen, hypersensitive, begging for more.

“Fuck,” she hisses, her hips jerking off the bed, her pussy clenching around you like a vise. “Too much—too much—”

You don’t let up. Her body’s trembling, her thighs slick with sweat and her own arousal, and the wet slap of your skin against hers is loud enough to wake the dead. She’s close—so fucking close—her breath hitching every time your cock drags over that spot inside her.

That’s when the knock comes.

Three sharp raps on the door.

Karina freezes beneath you, her eyes snapping open, wide and panicked. You stop mid-thrust, your cock buried deep, both of you holding your breath.

“Everything okay in there?” your mom calls through the door. “I heard… noises.”

Karina’s hand flies to her mouth, her chest heaving. You swallow hard, forcing your voice steady. “Noises?”

“Yeah. Like… thumping.”

You glance down at Karina. Her face is flushed, her lips bitten raw, her tits glistening with sweat. The bed creaks as you shift slightly, and she clenches around you, her thighs shaking.

“Uh—probably the neighbor’s cat,” you say, voice strained. “They got a new one. Thing’s a maniac.”

Silence. Then: “…The cat?”

“Yep.” You grit your teeth as Karina’s hips twitch, her pussy fluttering around you. “Big fucker. Keeps jumping on the roof.”

Another pause. Karina’s fingers dig into your biceps, her body trembling with the effort of staying still.

“…Alright,” your mom says finally. “Well, keep it down. We’re trying to sleep.”

“Sure,” you choke out.

Her footsteps fade down the hall.

Karina lets out a shaky breath, her head dropping back against the pillow. “Oh my God—”

You don’t give her time to recover. You start moving again, slow, deep thrusts that make her eyes roll back. “Should’ve stayed quiet, baby,” you murmur, thumb circling her clit.

She whimpers, her hand flying back to her mouth as her hips buck. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum—”

“Then cum,” you growl, fucking her harder, the bedframe knocking against the wall again. “Let me feel it.”

She shakes her head frantically, tears spilling over as she grabs a pillow, shoving it against her face. Her scream is muffled, her body bowing off the bed as her orgasm tears through her. Her pussy gushes, soaking the sheets beneath her, her thighs trembling violently as she squirts again, the wetness dripping down your balls.

“Fuck,” you groan, your thrusts turning erratic. Her walls keep milking you, spasming relentlessly, and you’re so close—

You pull out abruptly, earning a broken whine from Karina. She reaches for you, but you’re already climbing over her, your cock in your fist, stroking hard and fast.

“Look at me,” you rasp.

Her eyes flutter open, hazy with pleasure, her lips parted. You fist your cock, your release building.

“Cum on me,” she whispers, hands sliding up to squeeze her own tits, presenting them to you.

That’s all it takes. You groan, your hips jerking as you spill over her, stripes of white cum painting her skin. She gasps, her back arching, her fingers brushing through the mess, smearing it over her nipples.

“Fuck,” she breathes, staring up at you.

You collapse beside her, chest heaving, your cock still twitching in your hand. Without a word, you guide the tip to her lips. She opens her mouth obediently, tongue swirling around the head, cleaning you off with soft, lazy sucks.

“Good girl,” you murmur, running your fingers through her hair.

She hums around you, her eyes fluttering shut, her body still trembling with aftershocks. The room reeks of sex—sweat, cum, the sharp tang of her arousal soaked into the sheets. The headboard’s left a dent in the wall, and the pillow Karina bit into has a tear in the fabric.

Footsteps pass by the door again, slower this time.

Karina freezes, your cock slipping from her lips. “Shit—”

You clamp a hand over her mouth, listening. The footsteps pause. Then continue.

She lets out a shaky breath when they fade, her body slumping against yours. “We’re gonna die,” she whispers.

You snort, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Worth it.”

She swats your chest but doesn’t argue. Outside, the faint sound of the TV clicks on—your parents, still awake.

Karina’s eyes drift shut, her breathing slowing. You stare at the ceiling, the adrenaline fading, leaving you exhausted.

—

The rest of the night passes in a strange, almost frustrating silence. The rush, the thrill, the desperate need you and Karina had for each other has finally burned itself out, leaving only the quiet aftermath.

She’s curled up against you, completely spent, her hair still damp from sweat, her skin warm under the sheets. You can feel her steady breathing, her chest rising and falling slowly. Every now and then, her fingers twitch against your stomach, absentmindedly tracing patterns, but she doesn’t say much. Then—

“I’m hungry,” she murmurs, her voice soft and a little sleepy.

You sigh, stretching slightly. “Yeah. Me too.”

Reluctantly, you pull away from her warmth, sitting up and running a hand through your messy hair. You grab your underwear and pants from the floor, pulling them on before glancing back at her.

She’s still sprawled out, her bare legs tangled in the sheets, looking way too fucking comfortable for someone who’s about to sneak out of a house she isn’t supposed to be in.

“Come on,” you tell her. “Let’s eat.”

She groans, dragging herself up from the bed and pulling on her oversized sweatshirt again before following you out.

The house is quiet. No sign of your parents. But you both still move cautiously, sticking to the shadows like fugitives as you make your way to the kitchen.

You make her a simple sandwich—just ham, cheese, and a little mayo—and one for yourself, placing them on plates. She takes hers with a sleepy smile, murmuring a quiet “Thanks, baby” before taking a bite.

That’s when you see it.

Her phone. Lying between the couch cushions, right where she must’ve left it earlier in the night.

Shit. If your parents had found it… You grab it quickly, heading back to the kitchen. “Hey, you forgot this.”

Karina looks up, mid-bite, eyes widening slightly before she giggles. “Oops.”

She takes the phone, grinning sheepishly. “Guess I was too distracted.”

You snort, sitting down across from her. “Yeah, no shit.”

You eat in silence after that, the only sound in the kitchen being the occasional crunch of bread, the distant ticking of the kitchen clock. You find yourself watching her, completely unable to look away.

She’s beautiful. Even in this dim light, even in just her sweatshirt, her hair messy from sex, her skin still glowing slightly—she’s fucking beautiful.

And you love her.

It hits you suddenly, just how much. You’d risk everything for her. You already are.

When you finish eating, you both head back to your room. But the second you step inside, your eyes land on the mess.

The bed.

Completely fucking soaked.

Karina follows your gaze, and you see the exact moment she realizes. Her entire face turns red, her eyes widening in horror. “…Oh my god,” she whispers.

You glance at her, biting back a smirk. “You really lost it, huh?”

She buries her face in her hands. “Stop,” she groans. “This is so embarrassing.”

You chuckle, walking over and poking at the wet patch. “Damn, babe. You ruined my fucking bed.”

She whines, flopping onto the only dry part of the mattress, hiding her face. “I can’t believe I did that.”

You sit beside her, brushing her hair back. “Hey. It’s hot as fuck.”

She peeks at you through her fingers. “Really?”

“Really.” You grin. “But also, how the hell am I supposed to clean this?”

She groans again, covering her face. “I don’t know! Just—flip the mattress or something!” You laugh quietly, kissing the top of her head.

Yeah, the bed is ruined. The room is a disaster. And tomorrow, you’ll have to explain why your sheets are in the wash at 7 a.m.

But now she's here. Warm. Yours.

And that's all that matters.

The two of you spend some time in the room, listening carefully to the occasional sounds of your parents moving around the bedroom. But soon, the house falls silent.

Finally.

Karina grabs her phone, ordering a Uber. She sighs, stretching before standing up. “I should go before I push my luck.” You nod, but you don’t like it. You don’t want her to go.

Minutes later, a single car horn sounds from outside.

You both freeze for a second.

“Shit,” she hisses. “That was loud.”

You move quickly, peeking through the window. The car is there, waiting. No lights turning on in your parents’ room. Yet.

“Come on,” you whisper, grabbing her hand. She follows you, both of you moving quickly and quietly. You lead her to the front door, pausing just before opening it.

You look at her.

She looks at you.

And then you kiss her.

It’s slow but deep, your hands cupping her face, her fingers curling into your shirt. It’s a goodbye kiss, but also a promise. When you finally pull away, she smiles at you, her eyes soft.

“I love you.”

You squeeze her hand. “I love you too.”

Then, she slips outside, hurrying to the waiting car.

And you? You lock the door, take a deep breath, and head back to your ruined bed, already counting down the days until you can have her in it again.

—

The routine stays the same. Sneaking around, waiting for the perfect window when neither of your parents are home, stealing moments together whenever you can. It’s frustrating, but you make it work. You always do.

Today, though, you’re breaking the cycle—at least a little.

You’re sitting in a park, away from the crowded spots, where the trees give you enough shade to keep cool. A picnic blanket is spread out beneath you, snacks and drinks laid out, nothing fancy, but enough to make this feel special. Because today isn’t just any day.

It’s Karina’s birthday.

And fuck, she looks beautiful.

She’s wearing a dress—white, soft fabric, the kind that clings just enough to show off her curves but flows in all the right places. It’s got thin straps that sit delicately on her shoulders, leaving her collarbones and the smooth expanse of her neck exposed, just begging to be kissed. The bodice hugs her waist, showing off her perfect figure, before flaring out slightly around her thighs. When the breeze picks up, the hem flutters, teasing glimpses of her legs, her skin glowing in the sunlight. Her hair is loose today, falling over her shoulders in soft waves, and her makeup is minimal, just enough to make her features pop—though, if you’re being honest, she doesn’t need it. Her lips are a soft shade of pink, and her eyes sparkle every time she looks at you.

She looks like something out of a fucking dream.

She catches you staring and smirks, tilting her head slightly. “What?”

You shake your head, grinning. “You’re just… so fucking pretty.”

She giggles, reaching for a strawberry from the small container between you. “You’re just saying that because it’s my birthday.”

“I say it every day,” you point out, watching as she bites into the fruit, her lips glistening slightly from the juice.

She hums in amusement, chewing slowly before swallowing. “Still. I like hearing it.”

You lean in, brushing your fingers over her knee. “Then I’ll keep saying it.”

She smiles, soft and sweet, before offering you a strawberry. You take a bite straight from her fingers, and she laughs, wiping the juice from your lip with her thumb.

The moment is simple, quiet, but it’s perfect. You wish things didn’t have to be so secret. That you could celebrate her properly, with her family, with your family, without sneaking around like criminals. But for now, this is enough. Just the two of you, in your own little world.

The day is perfect by the way. The kind of day that makes you forget all the bullshit you and Karina have to deal with. Right now, none of that matters.

You’ve got your arms wrapped around her, her back pressed against your chest as you sit together on the picnic blanket. She’s warm, soft, fitting against you in that way that feels too natural, too right. The view of the park is nice—the trees swaying gently in the breeze, the sunlight filtering through the leaves, the few scattered people going about their day—but honestly, you’re barely paying attention. She smells so fucking good, something sweet and floral, and when she shifts slightly, adjusting her position against you, the movement sends a pleasant little shiver through your body.

You talk about everything—random memories, stupid jokes, the weird couple you saw earlier arguing about how to set up a folding chair. Karina laughs softly, her voice light, relaxed. Then—

“Wanna know a secret?” she asks, her tone playful.

You raise a brow, intrigued. “Always.”

She leans in slightly, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “I’m not wearing any panties.” Your entire body tenses.

You blink. “What?”

She pulls back, biting her lip, eyes full of mischief. “I thought it’d be fun.”

You stare at her, your brain struggling to process the sudden shift in conversation. You look down at her dress, that soft, flowy fabric, and suddenly, you can’t stop thinking about what’s underneath. Or rather, what isn’t underneath.

“That’s—” You clear your throat, already feeling your blood rushing south. “That’s really fucking hot.”

She grins, clearly pleased with herself. “I was thinking…” She trails a finger down your arm, slow and teasing. “I’ve always been curious about having sex in a public place.”

You exhale sharply, your grip on her tightening. “You’re seriously the naughtiest person I know.”

She giggles. “I know.”

Your lips crash into hers before you even realize what you’re doing. The kiss is deep, heated, your hand sliding down her side, gripping her thigh, already desperate to feel more. The thought of fucking her out here, with people nearby, the risk, the thrill—it’s got your heart pounding.

You pull back, breathless, and grab her hand. “Come on.” She follows eagerly, a knowing smile playing on her lips as you walk together, looking for somewhere safe, somewhere hidden. The park isn’t crowded today, which works in your favor. But then—

As you round a path leading toward a quieter area, you see it—a gathering of people. Not just any people—middle-aged, dressed a little too nicely for a casual park visit.

Some kind of event is going on. You squint, trying to figure it out. A community book club? A charity fundraiser? Maybe one of those wine-tasting things that always seem to attract people in their 40s and 50s.

None of it really matters. Because the second Karina sees them, she freezes. And then, without a word, she grabs your wrist and pulls you behind the nearest tree.

Your back presses against the bark, Karina pressed close against you, her breathing suddenly unsteady. “What the hell?” you whisper. “What’s wrong?” She swallows hard, peeking around the tree again before turning back to you, eyes wide.

“My parents,” she says in a hushed voice. “They’re here.”

Your stomach drops. “What?”

You peek out, scanning the crowd, and sure enough—there they are. Standing together, talking to some other couple, looking completely at home in this kind of setting.

What the fuck are they doing here?

Before you can even fully process it, your own eyes catch on something else. Your parents. Right fucking there.

You jerk back behind the tree, your mind reeling. “Holy shit.”

Karina stares at you. “What?”

“My parents are here too.”

Her mouth falls open slightly. “No way.”

“Yes way,” you hiss. “What the fuck is happening? They didn’t even mention going out today!”

Karina peeks out again, her brow furrowed. “Is this some weird, like… adult social event thing?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t fucking care,” you whisper. “We need to get back to the picnic before they see us.”

But Karina doesn’t move.

Instead, she grabs your hand, her grip firm.

“No.”

You blink. “No?”

She leans in, pressing against you, her lips just inches from yours. “I still want you to fuck me.”

Your breath catches. “Are you insane?”

She smiles, her fingers trailing down your arm, slow, teasing. “If we’re quick, no one will see us.”

You should say no. You should. This is reckless. Stupid. Borderline suicidal. But fuck—

The risk, the danger, the fact that your parents are right there—it’s so fucking hot.

You grab her wrist, eyes burning into hers. “Come on.”

She grins, biting her lip as you lead her away, toward a hidden corner, where you can stay out of sight while still watching the event from a safe distance.

Your heart is racing. And this is about to be the best mistake you’ve ever made.

The corner you lead Karina to is tucked away, hidden between thick bushes and a couple of trees with low-hanging branches. It’s just far enough from the event that no one will notice you, but not so far that the risk is completely gone. You can still hear the low hum of conversation, the occasional burst of laughter from the gathering of middle-aged people, your parents somewhere in that crowd.

But none of that matters right now. Right now, it’s just you and Karina, standing in the shade, adrenaline buzzing through your veins. The air is warm, slightly humid, carrying the faint scent of grass and flowers, but all you can focus on is her—on the way she’s looking at you, eyes dark with anticipation, her lips parted slightly.

You don’t waste any time.

Your mouth crashes onto hers, swallowing her little gasp as you push her up against the rough bark of a tree. She melts into you instantly, her hands grabbing at your shoulders, pulling you closer. The kiss is messy, all tongue and heat, your need for each other too overwhelming to be anything but desperate.

Your hands move on instinct, sliding down her sides, feeling the soft curve of her waist before settling on her ass. You squeeze hard, fingers digging into the plump flesh through the thin fabric of her dress.

She moans against your lips, pressing her body against yours.

“You’re so fucking bad,” you murmur against her mouth.

She giggles breathlessly, rolling her hips against you. “You love it.”

You growl softly, giving her ass another firm squeeze before your hands move to your belt.

No more waiting.

You shove your pants down just enough to free your cock, already hard, throbbing with the need to be inside her. She watches you, biting her lip, her breath coming faster.

Then, without breaking eye contact, you grab the hem of her dress and lift it.

No panties. Just like she said.

You curse under your breath, gripping her hip as you press your cock against her bare skin, dragging it along her slick folds from behind.

She shudders, her fingers digging into the bark of the tree. “Oh my god—”

You smirk, rubbing your length against her, teasing her, making her squirm. “This what you wanted?”

“Yes,” she breathes. “Please—fuck, we have to be quick—”

She’s right. You both know you don’t have time for teasing.

So you don’t waste another second.

You grab her hips, positioning yourself behind her, and then you push inside.

She gasps, her whole body tensing as you stretch her open, filling her in one deep, smooth thrust.

“Fuck,” you groan, your forehead pressing against her shoulder. She’s so fucking tight, her pussy gripping you perfectly, like she was made for this.

Karina bites down on her lip, stifling a moan. “God—you’re so deep—”

You grip her hips tighter, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in.

She lets out a muffled cry, her body jerking forward slightly from the force of it.

You wrap a arm around her waist, holding her steady, setting a fast, rough pace. You don’t have time to take it slow—not here, not with the risk of being caught. Every thrust drives her harder against the tree, her body rocking with each movement.

She’s struggling to keep quiet, her moans coming out in soft, broken whimpers, her hands gripping the bark like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

“You love this, don’t you?” you whisper in her ear. “Getting fucked right out in the open, where anyone could see?”

She whimpers, her pussy tightening around you. “Y-yes—fuck—”

Your hand moves from her waist to her thigh, gripping, lifting her leg slightly to get even deeper.

She gasps sharply, her back arching, her head tilting back onto your shoulder.

“Baby—oh my god—”

You keep fucking her, each thrust pushing her up against the rough bark of the tree, her body jerking slightly with the force of it. She’s soaked, dripping down your cock, her walls clenching around you like she’s trying to pull you in deeper. The heat between you is overwhelming, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex.

Your hands move from her hips, sliding up her stomach, feeling the curve of her waist before reaching her tits. You squeeze them through the thin fabric of her dress, fingers finding her hard nipples, rolling them between your fingertips.

She gasps, arching into your touch.

“Fuck, baby—” Her voice is breathy, almost a whisper, but you can hear the excitement, the thrill laced in every syllable.

You lean in, lips brushing against her neck, kissing, sucking lightly. She shivers, her whole body reacting to the sensation.

She giggles, nervous and turned on at the same time. “This is so wrong,” she breathes. “So dangerous.”

You smirk against her skin, nipping lightly at her shoulder. “Maybe that’s why we love it so much.”

She moans softly, pressing back against you, her ass grinding into your hips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Maybe sneaking around for so long fucked us up a little. Maybe we got a kink for this kinda thing.”

She whimpers at that, her pussy tightening around you. “Mmm—maybe we did.”

You pick up the pace, snapping your hips against her, pushing her harder into the tree. The wet sound of your bodies moving together is obscene, mixing with the distant voices of people at the event just beyond your little hiding spot.

Karina gasps, her fingers digging into the bark. “Oh my god—”

Her thighs tremble, her breath coming in short, quick pants.

You grip her hips tighter, fingers digging into her soft flesh as you start fucking her harder, faster. Your pace turns frantic, desperate, every thrust slamming deep into her dripping pussy, making her body jolt with the force of it. She’s so fucking wet, each stroke making a filthy, slick sound that only adds to the raw intensity of what you’re doing.

Karina is losing it.

Her moans grow louder, high-pitched and breathless, her hands clawing at the rough bark of the tree for some kind of stability. She’s completely at your mercy, taking every thrust, her legs shaking, her body surrendering to the pleasure.

“Fuck—baby—” Her voice is trembling, barely coherent.

You grit your teeth, leaning over her, pressing your lips to her ear. “Shh,” you murmur. “Not so loud.”

“I can’t,” she whimpers, her voice breaking. “I—I can’t be quiet—”

That makes something snap inside you.

The fact that she knows she needs to be quiet, wants to be quiet—but she can’t. She’s so lost in it, so overwhelmed by pleasure, that controlling herself isn’t even a option.

And that? That drives you fucking crazy.

You slam into her harder, your cock buried deep inside her, hitting her exactly where she needs. Her back arches, her fingers tightening around the tree, another sharp moan slipping past her lips.

She gasps suddenly, her whole body trembling. “I’m—I’m close—”

You groan, feeling your own release creeping up on you. “Me too.”

She tilts her head, turning just enough to find your lips. “Cum with me,” she begs, her voice soft, desperate.

That’s all you need.

You kiss her, swallowing her moans, your tongues tangling as you fuck her through the last stretch of pleasure. The tension in your body builds and builds, the heat in your gut tightening until it finally—

“Fuck—”

Karina suddenly stiffens, her pussy clamping down around you as she cums, her body wracked with shudders.

But she screams.

Your hand flies up, clamping over her mouth just in time, muffling the tail end of that scream before it can carry too far. The voices nearby pause—someone laughs, someone else mutters something—and your heart’s pounding in your chest, adrenaline spiking. Her cries are still vibrating against your palm, hot and wet, her breath heaving as her orgasm wrecks her, her pussy pulsing around you, soaking you even more. She’s shaking so bad you have to hold her up, your arm wrapping around her waist to keep her from collapsing.

And that—her muffled screams, the way she’s clenching so fucking tight, the way her whole body’s convulsing against you—it’s too much. It shoves you right over the edge.

Pleasure hits you like a goddamn truck, raw and blinding, crashing through every nerve in your body. Your cock twitches hard, buried deep inside her, and you lose it. You cum—hot, thick, and messy—spilling into her with these sharp, uncontrollable pulses. The first spurt’s so intense it feels like your soul’s leaving your body, your vision blurring at the edges, your knees buckling as you pump her full. You can feel it—every rope of cum flooding her, stuffing her pussy to the brim, the heat of it mixing with hers, slick and overwhelming.

“Fuck—so good—too fucking good—” you growl through gritted teeth, still thrusting shallow and sloppy as you ride it out, each pulse hitting you like a shockwave. The risk of it—your parents just beyond the trees, probably sipping drinks and chatting, no clue their son’s unloading inside Karina right now—it’s like lighter fluid on the fire, making every sensation tem times sharper, tem times dirtier. Your hands dig into her hips, bruising, like letting go means you’ll both fall apart.

You stay there for a minute, panting hard, chests heaving, your cock still twitching inside her as the last of it leaks out. She’s trembling under you, little aftershocks making her pussy flutter around you, milking you dry. Finally, you pull out slow, and she lets out this shaky, wrecked exhale, her legs wobbling as she straightens up, leaning heavy against the tree for support.

You step back just enough, hands sliding down to grab her ass cheeks, spreading them wide. And fuck—there it is. Your cum’s already leaking out of her, thick and white, oozing from her swollen, fucked-out pussy. It drips slow down the inside of her thigh, glistening in the faint sunlight filtering through the branches. Her entrance is still pulsing, pushing out more, and it’s pooling there, sticky, hot, and dangerously obscene.

She gasps, twisting her head back to look at you, eyes wide and dazed. “Jesus fuck, baby—you came so fucking much.” Her voice is hoarse, awed, like she can’t believe how full she is. There’s a little smirk tugging at her lips, though, this filthy pride mixing with the shock.

You grin, smug and wrecked, squeezing her ass playfully, smearing some of the mess across her skin with your fingers. “Yeah, well—you fucking earned it, didn’t you?” Your voice is low, still rough from the high.

You tuck yourself back into your pants, heart still pounding, body still buzzing.

That? That was fucking insane.

And you loved it.

You grab Karina’s hand, your fingers lacing together as you sneak back toward your picnic spot where she can wipe her thighs with some disposable tissues, hearts still pounding, adrenaline still buzzing through your veins. Every step feels like a risk, every movement sharp and alert, your senses heightened from what you just did.

But no one notices.

No one even looks in your direction.

The people at the event are still deep in their conversations, sipping their overpriced wine or whatever the hell they’re doing. Your parents—both sets—are still in the crowd, oblivious, completely unaware that just moments ago, their kids were fucking like animals just a few feet away.

It’s almost ridiculous.

You and Karina glance at each other, trying to keep straight faces, but it’s useless.

The moment you reach your picnic blanket, you both collapse onto it, covering your mouths to muffle your laughter.

“Holy shit,” Karina whispers, her body shaking from the effort of holding it in. “We actually did that.”

You exhale sharply, leaning back on your hands, still catching your breath. “That was fucking insane.”

She looks at you, eyes bright with excitement. “And so hot.”

You groan, running a hand through your hair. “Don’t start. I’m this close to dragging you behind another tree.”

She giggles, shifting closer, resting her head against your shoulder. Her body is still warm, still humming with the aftermath of what you just did. You can feel it. The connection between you—stronger than ever.

She exhales slowly, tilting her head up to look at you. “I still feel you inside me.”

You turn to look at her, and she’s smirking, that smug, satisfied look that drives you crazy.

You swallow hard, eyes flicking down to her thighs, her soft, bare skin still flushed from the way you had her bent over, taking you deep. And now—now she’s sitting here, looking perfect and innocent in that little white dress, while your cum is still leaking out of her.

You shift, adjusting your position, because fuck if that doesn’t make you hard again.

Karina grins, obviously noticing, and nudges you playfully. “Behave.”

You scoff. “Says the one who just dragged me into public sex.”

She shrugs, resting her hand on your thigh. “Didn’t hear you complaining.”

You glance around quickly, making sure no one is paying attention before leaning in, brushing your lips against her ear. “Because I love it.”

She shivers, biting her lip, her fingers curling against your leg.

And just like that—you both know this isn’t over.

��

The last few months have been a grind.

Between college, your part-time job, and the constant stress of keeping your relationship a secret, you and Karina have barely had any time together. It’s frustrating as hell, sneaking around, finding small pockets of time where you can be alone, only to have them cut short by obligations, responsibilities, or the constant fear of getting caught.

And it’s been weeks since you last fucked.

So when your phone buzzes while you’re chilling at your friend’s place, and you see Karina’s name on the screen, you don’t hesitate to answer.

“Hey, baby,” you say, already feeling a smile tug at your lips.

Her voice comes through the speaker, light and teasing. “Miss me?”

You chuckle. “Always.”

“Mmm, good answer.” There’s a playful lilt to her tone, something just under the surface, something that instantly makes your body react. “Do you remember what I told you a couple of weeks ago?”

You pause, trying to think. “Uh…”

She sighs dramatically. “You forgot?”

You scramble, running through past conversations in your head, but before you can figure it out, she gives you the answer herself.

“My parents,” she says slowly, like she’s guiding a clueless student. “Are at a friend’s wedding. Out of town. For the whole night.”

You did forget. She did mention it, but between work and school, it completely slipped your mind. And now—

Now she’s alone.

At home.

Waiting for you.

The grin that spreads across your face is instant.

“You serious?” you ask, already standing up from the couch.

“Dead serious,” she purrs. “And I really don’t want to spend the night alone.”

You’re already grabbing your keys, your heart pounding. “I’m on my way.”

She giggles. “I’ll be waiting.”

You hang up and turn to your friends, who have been watching you with knowing looks.

“I gotta go,” you announce, already heading for the door.

One of them smirks. “Karina?”

“Karina.”

They all nod in understanding. “Go get your girl, man.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You practically run out the door, jumping into your car, setting off toward the one place you want to be more than anywhere else. Tonight, Karina is yours. And nothing is going to stop you from getting to her.

—

You pull up to Karina’s house, your heart already pounding, excitement buzzing in your veins. It’s been way too fucking long since you had her all to yourself—no parents, no time limits, no need to rush. Just you and her, a whole night with nothing standing in your way.

You practically jump out of the car, hurrying up to the front door. You ring the doorbell.

And wait.

Nothing.

You frown, shifting on your feet. Maybe she’s in the bathroom? Or listening to music? You ring again. Then again, a little impatient now.

Still nothing.

Your excitement dims slightly, replaced by curiosity. You check your phone—no messages. Weird.

You sigh, already knowing what you’re about to do.

You step around the side of the house, toward the window of her room, the same one you’ve climbed through way too many times before. You know it’s never locked—she always forgets to latch it.

Like always, it slides open easily. You climb inside, landing silently in the familiar space. The soft scent of her perfume lingers in the air, her bed slightly messy, the desk covered in scattered notebooks.

But she’s not here.

You frown, stepping out into the hallway. The house is quiet.

Then, you hear the sound of a door closing.

You follow the noise, stepping into the living room—

And there she is.

Standing in front of the now-closed front door, looking confused for a split second before she turns around—

And screams.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

She practically jumps out of her skin, stumbling back against the door, her hand flying to her chest.

You freeze, eyes wide. “Shit—”

She stares at you, eyes blown wide, breathing hard. “What the fuck are you doing in here?!”

You raise your hands in surrender, trying not to laugh at her reaction. “Babe, relax—I rang the bell like five times, you didn’t answer!”

She still looks completely shaken, her chest rising and falling quickly. “So you just broke in?!”

“I climbed in,” you correct. “Like I always do.”

She groans, covering her face. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

You step closer, gently pulling her hands away from her face. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

She pouts against your mouth. “You’re a idiot.”

You smirk, kissing her again, this time deeper, letting your hands slide down to her waist. “Yeah, but you love me.”

She sighs dramatically but melts into you, her arms looping around your neck.

Now that you’re close, you really take her in—her oversized shirt barely covering anything, her bare legs smooth and tempting, her skin still warm from the scare you gave her.

“Do your parents know you’ve been wearing those short clothes around boys?”

“Ugh, stop acting like a pervert,” she says, patting your chest lightly.

“When do they get back?” you ask, trailing your fingers along her hips.

She hums, pretending to think. “Tomorrow morning.”

Your smirk grows. “That’s plenty of time.”

Her breath catches slightly, her hands gripping your arms. “You better not waste it.”

Oh, you won’t.

The moment those words leave her mouth, you crash your lips against hers, pulling her into a messy, desperate kiss.

It’s been weeks since you properly made out, and now, all of that pent-up frustration, all of that longing, comes exploding out at once. Your mouths move together frantically, your tongues meeting, your hands gripping her body like you’re scared she’ll disappear if you let go.

You’re stumbling backward, barely aware of where you’re going, your focus completely consumed by her. Then—

You hit the couch.

You fall onto it, and Karina immediately climbs onto your lap, straddling you, her knees pressing into the cushions on either side of your legs. Between kisses, she gasps, “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

You groan, tilting your head, kissing along her jaw, down to her neck. “Missed you too, baby. So fucking much.”

Your hands slide down her thighs, gripping, squeezing, mapping out the smooth curves of her legs. And then you realize.

She’s not wearing anything under that oversized shirt.

Your fingers dig into her thighs, your cock twitching in your pants. “Jesus, Karina.”

She smirks against your lips, rocking her hips slightly. “You like?”

“Obviously.”

You slide your hands up, under her shirt, feeling the heat of her bare skin, the soft swell of her hips. She’s so fucking perfect, so yours.

Between kisses, her voice lowers, turning softer. “You know… college is almost over.”

You pause slightly, just for a second, before nodding. “Yeah.”

She pulls back just enough to look at you, her fingers tracing your jaw. “We’ll be free soon.”

You exhale, running your hands up her back.

She continues, her voice filled with quiet excitement. “We can get decent jobs. Rent a apartment. Live together.”

Your chest tightens—not with fear, not with hesitation, but with something stronger. Hope.

No more sneaking around. No more hiding. Just you and her, in a home that’s yours.

“No one bothering us,” she murmurs, pressing her forehead against yours.

You smile, cupping her face. “No one stopping us.”

She grins. “We can have sex every day.”

You chuckle. “In every room in the apartment.”

She laughs softly, tilting her head as she kisses you again, but this time, her hands move—

To your pants.

Your breath catches as she unbuttons them, her fingers working quickly, like she’s been waiting for this. Your cock is already hard, straining against the fabric, aching to be freed.

She pulls it out.

You let out a sharp breath, your head falling back slightly as the cool air hits you, but that relief is short-lived because Karina—fuck—Karina is shifting, adjusting herself on your lap, lining herself up—

And then she sinks down.

Your whole body locks up.

“Fuck,” you groan, your hands flying to her hips as you feel the tight, hot grip of her pussy enveloping you completely.

Karina gasps, her nails digging into your shoulders as she takes you in, stretching around you, her breath stuttering.

She sighs, her eyes fluttering shut. “God, I missed this.”

You grip her hips tighter, barely holding yourself back. “Me too, baby.”

Then she starts moving.

She lifts herself slightly before dropping back down, making you both shudder at the sensation. She sets a slow rhythm at first, savoring the stretch, the fullness, the way you feel inside her.

Then, she picks up the pace.

Bouncing on your cock, her hands gripping your shoulders for support, her moans spilling freely into the space between you.

And fuck—this is what you’ve been missing.

Karina keeps bouncing on your cock, her movements growing more desperate, more eager, her slick heat squeezing around you with every roll of her hips. She’s fucking perfect like this—on top of you, taking you in deep, her body moving like she was made for this.

She reaches for the hem of her shirt, her breath shaky, her movements rushed. She pulls it over her head in one quick motion, tossing it aside, leaving her completely bare.

And fuck.

Her tits fall free, full and heavy, bouncing slightly with every movement.

Your mouth practically waters.

“Jesus Christ,” you groan, hands sliding up her body, over her waist, up to cup those perfect tits.

Karina moans at your touch, her back arching slightly. “You like?” she teases breathlessly.

You don’t even answer. You just act.

Your hands slide back down, gripping her hips before trailing lower, fingers grazing over the roundness of her ass.

And then—

You give her a playful, light slap.

It’s not hard—not yet—but it’s exactly what she likes, exactly what gets her going.

She whimpers, her whole body reacting, her walls tightening around your cock for a second.

That reaction? Fucking addictive.

So you do it again.

Another quick, teasing slap against the soft flesh of her ass.

She moans louder this time, her pace stuttering before she catches herself, moving faster now, chasing more of it, wanting more.

Her ass is just too fucking good not to touch.

You alternate between squeezing and slapping, making her whine, making her needier.

And while your hands are busy making her ass turn that beautiful shade of pink, your mouth moves down.

To her tits.

You latch onto one of her nipples, sucking it deep into your mouth, swirling your tongue over the stiff peak.

She cries out, her hands flying to your head, her fingers tangling in your hair as she gasps, “Fuck—baby—”

Karina’s fucking gone now. Obliterated by the sheer, animalistic need pulsing through her veins. Her hips are rolling like they’ve got a mind of their own, chasing that insane stretch of your cock splitting her open, filling every inch of her dripping, greedy pussy. She’s soaked—drenched—and every time she slams down on you, the wet, obscene squelch of her juices mixes with the slap of skin on skin, bouncing off the walls of the dimly lit living room like a goddamn porno soundtrack.

Her voice cracks through the haze, soft but so fucking desperate it’s almost a sob. “Fuck—you’re huge—so goddamn thick—I can feel you tearing me apart and it’s so fucking good—”

Your hands clamp down on her hips, fingers digging into her soft, sweaty flesh hard enough to leave marks. You yank her down harder, faster, forcing her to take every inch of you, her slick walls gripping you like a vice.

“Yeah? You fucking love this dick, don’t you?” you growl, eyes locked on her—those perfect, heavy tits bouncing with every thrust, her skin flushed and glowing under the shitty lamp light, sweat beading down her neck. She’s a goddamn mess, and it’s driving you wild.

She nods like her life depends on it, pupils blown out, breath coming in ragged, needy little gasps. “Love it—fuck, I’m obsessed—can’t stop wanting you—”

Your hands roam her body like you own it, sliding down the slick curve of her waist, then lower, grabbing fistfuls of her plump ass. You squeeze hard, feeling the muscle flex under your grip, and then—fuck it—you bring your hand down with a sharp, stinging crack against that perfect, round cheek.

The sound cuts through the air like a gunshot, blending with her filthy moans, and holy shit, the way she reacts—a choked gasp, her back arching so hard her tits press against your chest, her pussy squeezing you so tight it almost hurts—it’s like pouring gasoline on the fire raging inside you.

So you do it again. Harder. Another brutal slap, watching her ass jiggle and turn pink under your hand. She shudders, a whimper spilling out of her, and then you switch it up—bring your hand crashing down on one of those massive, bouncing tits. The smack lands right across her nipple, and she yelps, half-surprise, half-ecstasy, her hips bucking wilder, grinding down on you like she’s trying to break you.

“Fuck—do it again,” she pants, voice trembling with lust, and you don’t even hesitate—another hard slap to her tit, watching it ripple, watching her lose her damn mind. She’s bouncing faster now, completely unglued, her nails clawing at your shoulders as she rides you into oblivion.

Then—out of nowhere—she laughs. Not some cute little giggle, but a full-on, breathless, dirty laugh, wild and reckless, her eyes flashing with this dangerous, untamed heat. “If my parents knew I was getting my brains fucked out on their precious TV couch,” she gasps, still slamming down on you like a goddamn jackhammer, “they’d fucking disown me—or maybe burn the damn thing.”

That hits you like a punch to the gut, a sick, twisted thrill twisting through your chest. The idea of it—their sweet little girl, their pride and joy, sprawled out right where they sit sipping coffee, getting her pussy wrecked by you, stuffed so full she’s shaking—it’s so wrong it’s perfect.

You laugh, low and rough. “Yeah, they’d lose their fucking minds.”

She giggles again, but it’s shaky, her whole body trembling as she teeters on the edge. “Guess I’m a real bad daughter, huh?”

You grab her jaw, rough but not cruel, tilting her face so she’s forced to look at you. “The fucking worst,” you rasp, voice thick with want.

Her lips twitch into a smirk, her eyes blazing into yours, dripping with heat and something softer, something that catches you off guard. “You still love me, though?”

No pause, no doubt. “Damn right I do.”

For a split second, time slows—her gaze softens, and you feel it, that raw, real thread tying you together beneath all the filth. But then her lips part, and her voice drops into this pleading, broken whimper—

“Then fucking make me cum, baby. Please.”

And that’s it. That’s the match that lights the dynamite.

You snap.

In one fluid move, you wrap your arms around her waist, flip her onto her back, and pin her to the couch like a goddamn animal. She gasps, legs hooking around your hips on instinct as you rear back and slam into her—hard, deep, ruthless. The cushions groan under the force, the whole damn room vibrating with the wet, obscene slap-slap-slap of your bodies colliding.

Karina screams, her hands scrabbling at your chest, nails raking red lines down your skin. “Oh fuck—yes—harder—” Her words dissolve into choked, gasping moans, her head thrashing side to side as you pound into her, relentless, unmerciful.

Her pussy’s a sopping mess, soaking your thighs, your cock, the couch—everything. The sounds are pornographic, loud and shameless, and you can’t get enough. You grip her hips so tight you can feel her bones, yanking her down to meet every brutal thrust, watching her tits bounce wildly, her body bending under you like she’s made for this.

She’s unraveling—fast. You can see it in the way her eyes roll back, the way her voice cracks into these frantic, babbling cries. “Baby—fuck—I’m gonna—oh my god—I can’t—”

You lean down, growl rough and low in her ear. “You’re gonna cum for me, huh? Gonna make a fucking mess all over me?”

She nods, frantic, clawing at the cushions like they’re her lifeline. “Yes—yes—fuck, please don’t stop—”

You don’t. You can’t. You’re too far gone, too caught up in the way she’s falling apart beneath you. You shift your angle just a hair, hitting that spot deep inside her that makes her whole body jerk, and she lets out this high, keening wail—

“There—right there—oh fuck—”

You feel it before she even says it—her pussy clamps down around you like a fucking trap, so tight it’s almost painful, and you lose it. You grab her thighs, shove them up higher, and start railing her so hard the couch skids a inch across the floor.

“Cum for me,” you snarl, voice raw and commanding. “Fucking soak me, baby—let it go.”

And she does.

Her orgasm hits like a goddamn explosion—her whole body seizes up, back arching off the couch, legs shaking so hard you have to hold them down. A scream rips out of her, loud and jagged, as her pussy pulses around you, gushing wet heat that spills down your cock, dripping onto the cushions. She’s thrashing, sobbing, completely fucking wrecked, and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

That’s all it takes.

You bury yourself deep—one last brutal thrust—and blow. A guttural, primal groan tears from your throat as you cum, pumping thick, hot spurts inside her, filling her up until you can feel it leaking out around you. The pleasure’s blinding, searing through you like a wildfire, your whole body trembling as you ride it out, hips jerking with the aftershocks.

For a long, hazy minute, you’re both still—panting, sweaty, tangled together like a car crash. Her chest heaves, her eyes half-lidded and glassy, and you can feel her heartbeat thudding through her ribs where you’re pressed against her.

Then she laughs—weak, breathless, almost delirious. “...What the fuck was that?”

You chuckle, hoarse and wrecked, dropping your forehead to her shoulder. “That was us fucking ruining this couch.”

She snorts, running shaky fingers through your damp hair. “Yeah, well... worth it. You really made your bad girl cum her brains out.”

You pull back just enough to grin at her, smug as hell. “Told you I would.”

Then, suddenly, she shifts, standing on shaky feet. She looks down at you, eyes dark with something insatiable, and then she smirks.

“Come to my room.”

Your whole body tenses.

She doesn’t even wait for a response. She turns on her heel, walking toward the hallway, her naked form moving with a effortless, teasing sway of her hips.

Your brain barely processes the movement of you standing up, but before you follow her, you flip the wet couch cushions, just in case. Your heart is still pounding, your cock still hard despite having just cum, because fuck—this night isn’t over yet.

The moment you step into her room, you’re already yanking off your clothes, tossing them aside in a rush. Karina stands by the bed, watching you, waiting, her bare body bathed in the dim glow of her bedside lamp.

Her tits rise and fall with every breath, her nipples still flushed, her thighs still wet with the mess you made of her earlier. Her lips are slightly parted, her expression filled with anticipation, and you know she wants more.

You reach her in two strides, your hands instantly finding her waist as you pull her in for a deep, messy kiss. Your tongues collide, your hands roam, and she melts against you, completely surrendering to the way you’re guiding her, the way you need her.

Between kisses, her voice comes out breathy, teasing. “Think you can make me squirt again?”

You smirk, squeezing her cheek lightly, making her look directly into your eyes. “I’ll try,” you murmur, dragging your thumb across her lips before gripping her jaw. “But you’re gonna have to be a good girl for me.”

She shivers at that, her body reacting before her words even come out. “I will,” she breathes, nodding slightly.

You release her face, letting your hands slide down to her hips before giving her a little nudge. “Then get on all fours for me.”

That does it.

She whimpers, eyes fluttering shut for a second as a wave of heat washes over her. Then, without hesitation, she turns, climbing onto the bed, shifting into position.

And fuck, the sight of her like this—knees pressed into the mattress, arms braced against the sheets, her back arched so perfectly, her ass sticking out for you, her glistening pussy already exposed and waiting—makes your blood run hot.

You kneel behind her, your hands instantly moving to her hips, then lower, grabbing two handfuls of her perfect ass. You squeeze, hard, watching the way the flesh dimples under your grip, the way she trembles slightly at your touch.

“You love this, don’t you?” you murmur, sliding one hand down, letting your fingers tease along the wet heat between her thighs.

She gasps, shifting slightly, pushing back against your touch. “Yes,” she whispers, voice shaking. “I love being used like this by you.” Her eyes, glassy with pleasure, lock onto yours, wide and dark, pupils blown out. She’s already panting, already lost in it, her lips parted as soft little whimpers spill from her throat. “Please,” she murmurs, her hips shifting, desperate for more.

That’s all you need to hear. You shift closer, lining yourself up, your body pressed flush against hers. Your cock nudges her entrance, teasing her for just a second—letting the tip drag through her wetness, feeling the way her heat pulses around you. She twitches, a desperate little jerk of her hips, and her breath catches, stuttering in her chest like she’s about to lose it already.

Her head turns slightly, glassy eyes locking onto yours over her shoulder—wide, dark, and drowning in lust, her pupils so blown out there’s barely any color left. Her lips part, soft, needy whimpers spilling out, and she’s panting like she’s already halfway gone. “Please,” she whispers, hips shifting again, practically grinding herself against you. “Please, baby—fuck me.”

You don’t make her wait.

With one hard, smooth thrust, you sink into her, burying yourself deep. She moans, loud and broken, her hands fisting the sheets as her body jolts forward from the force. Her pussy’s so wet, so tight, gripping you like it’s trying to pull you in even deeper. You don’t hold back—grabbing her hips, you start fucking her hard, steady, every thrust slamming into her with a wet smack that fills the room.

You tighten your grip, yanking her back onto your cock with every thrust, watching the way her spine curves, the way her head drops forward like she’s surrendering completely. “So fucking good,” you growl, one hand sliding up her back, fingers tangling in her hair to pull her head back just enough to hear her better. Her moans turn into cries, high-pitched and frantic, her whole body shaking as you pound into her.

“Harder—please—fuck me harder,” she begs, voice cracking, and it’s like she’s handing you the reins to break her. You oblige—slamming into her so hard the bed creaks, the headboard thudding against the wall. Her ass claps against your hips, loud and filthy, and the wet heat of her pussy is dripping down her thighs, soaking everything, making a mess of you both.

Her pussy’s clenching harder now, gripping you like a fucking fist, and you can tell she’s teetering right on the edge, so close but not quite there yet. You lean forward, chest pressed to her sweaty back, one hand sliding around to grip her throat—not tight, just enough to feel her pulse hammering under your fingers. “Gonna make you cum so hard, babe,” you say. “Gonna make you ruin this fucking bed.”

She whimpers, a desperate little sob catching in her throat as she nods, frantic. “Yes—please—fuck, I’m so close—please don’t stop—”

You don’t. You’re too fucking lost in it, hips slamming into her with these loud, wet smacks that echo through the room. Her ass—still red and hot from those slaps—jiggles against you, her body rocking forward with every brutal thrust. She’s a mess, babbling nonsense—Oh god—baby—harder—her arms buckling as she collapses face-first into the mattress, ass still up, taking everything you’re giving her.

But fuck, you’ve been holding it in too long. All that cum’s been building up, heavy and tight in your balls, and it’s starting to get to you. You can feel it—the pressure’s insane, like your cock’s about to burst. Your rhythm stutters, hips jerking unevenly as it hits you, this sudden, uncontrollable surge. A low, guttural groan rips out of you, and you pull out just enough to fist your cock, leaking hot and thick right onto her.

The first spurt lands hard across her back, a messy splash of cum painting her flushed, sweaty skin. She flinches, a sharp, needy gasp spilling out of her as the heat hits, her body trembling under you. “Fuck—what—?” she pants, twisting her head to glance back, eyes wide and wild. You’re still leaking, another thick dribble spilling out, dripping down her spine toward that perfect, red ass, and she moans, low and filthy, like it’s turning her on even more.

“More,” she whines, voice cracking with desperation, her hips wiggling back toward you. “Don’t stop—give me more, baby—please—”

You growl, still stroking yourself through it, letting another pulse leak out. This time, you press the tip of your cock right against her ass—teasing that tight little hole, not going in, just smearing the cum there, watching it drip slow down her crack. She shivers, a full-body shudder, and pushes back against you like she’s begging for it. “Fuck—that’s so hot,” she gasps, her fingers clawing at the sheets. “Keep going—I need you back inside me—now.”

You’re still hard as hell, cock throbbing, slick with her juices and your own leak. She’s got you wound up so tight, and the way she’s pleading—fuck, it’s like she’s pulling you apart. You grab her hips, rough and possessive, and line yourself up again, slamming back into her pussy with one deep, punishing thrust. She cries out, loud and raw, her whole body jolting forward as you pick up the pace again, fucking her even harder than before.

“Like that?” you snarl, voice dripping with heat as you watch her ass bounce against you, still glistening with your cum. “You want it all, huh? Greedy little thing.”

“Yes—yes—” she sobs, voice muffled against the mattress, her back arching sharper to take you deeper. “Fuck me ‘til I can’t think—‘til I’m fucking done—please—”

You’re relentless now, pounding into her so hard the bed groans under you, her pussy soaking you, dripping down your thighs. That leak took the edge off, but you’re still so full, still ready to blow, and she’s egging you on, her needy cries and the way she’s clenching around you driving you fucking insane. Her ass is still hot under your hands, the red marks glowing, and every slap of your hips against her makes her whimper louder, begging for more, more, more.

But you’ve got other plans. You grab her hips, flipping her onto her back in one rough move. She gasps, legs falling open instinctively as she lands on the bed, sprawled out beneath you in the missionary position. Her chest heaves, tits bouncing with the motion, her face flushed and wrecked—eyes half-lidded, lips swollen and parted, still trembling from the aftershocks. Her pussy’s a mess, glistening and leaking, thighs slick with her own cum and yours. She barely has time to react before you’re on her again, spreading her thighs, hooking them over your arms, keeping her completely open for you.

Definitely the best position for this—for watching her face twist in pleasure, for seeing every expression she makes, every little gasp, every time her mouth drops open when you hit the perfect spot inside her. And fuck, you do hit it. Over and over, with every deep, hard thrust.

Her hands fly to your shoulders first, gripping you like she’s trying to ground herself, like she needs something solid to hold onto. But then, as the pleasure builds, as your pace quickens, her hands slide lower, down her own body, until her fingers find her clit.

You groan at the sight, at the way she starts rubbing herself, fast, desperate, completely lost in it. “Oh my god,” she whimpers, her thighs trembling, her breath catching in her throat. “Oh my god, baby—”

You know what’s coming. You can feel it in the way she’s tightening around you, the way her hips are bucking, her whole body trembling. She’s right there, right on the edge, and fuck, that’s exactly what you want.

Your grip on Karina’s hips tightens as you pound into her, her body arching beneath you, legs trembling around your waist. She’s so damn wet, her slickness coating your skin, making every thrust smoother, deeper, faster. The air is thick with the sound of your bodies colliding, with the ragged breaths and soft gasps slipping from her lips. But she’s not moaning anymore—no, she’s past that.

Her fingers work her clit in fast, desperate circles, chasing her high, pushing herself over that delicious edge. And when she finally tips over? She screams.

Not just a moan, not just a breathy little whimper—a all-out, unrestrained, shaking, spine-arching cry of pleasure that echoes through the room. It’s raw, untamed, and fuck, it’s perfect.

“That’s it,” you growl, barely holding yourself together, watching her body tense beneath you, feeling the way her walls clamp down around you. “Don’t stop. Let it happen.”

She doesn’t. If anything, she pushes herself harder, rubbing herself furiously as her orgasm tears through her. And then—

It happens.

Her whole body jerks, back bowing off the mattress as a fresh wave of wetness gushes out of her, soaking you, soaking the sheets, soaking everything. It’s overwhelming, messy, absolutely beautiful.

And she’s still going.

Her thighs shake violently as aftershocks hit her, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. You don’t slow down. You can’t slow down. You thrust faster, deeper, watching her completely fall apart beneath you.

“Look at you,” you murmur, gripping her waist tighter, keeping her steady as she trembles through another wave of pleasure. “So damn beautiful when you lose yourself like this.”

She hears you, and somehow, it makes her push even further. Her eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused, her fingers never leaving her clit. “I—I’m gonna—”

You already know.

And then she’s screaming again, her body convulsing as a second orgasm rips through her. This one’s even harder than the first, her legs kicking out, her hands gripping at anything—your arms, the sheets, the air. Another surge of wetness spills from her, a deep, shaking moan caught in her throat as her body gives in completely.

“That’s my girl,” you whisper, slowing just enough to draw it out, to let her feel everything.

Her eyes roll back. Her mouth drops open in a silent gasp, the pleasure so overwhelming she can’t even form words anymore. She’s ruined, wrecked, gone.

And still, you don’t let up.

You slide a hand between her thighs, rubbing her clit slowly now, teasing her overstimulated nerves, pulling the last bits of pleasure from her. She twitches, a tiny, choked whimper escaping her lips—then one final, weak gush spills out of her. Small, almost cute, the last bit of her completely giving in.

She’s done.

Karina lies there, body still shaking, chest heaving, sweat glistening on her flushed skin. The sheets beneath her are absolutely drenched, a visible reminder of everything you just did to her.

You hover over her, watching as her eyes finally refocus on you, still hazy, still lost in the remnants of her pleasure. You brush damp hair from her face, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

“You okay?” you murmur, voice softer now, laced with satisfaction.

She swallows hard, nodding weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. “You almost killed me.”

You smirk, leaning down to kiss her swollen lips. “And you loved every second of it.”

A tired little giggle bubbles out of her, her fingers lazily tracing your arm. “I’m never walking again.”

You chuckle, running your hands down her sides, feeling the way she still twitches under your touch. “Worth it?”

She gives you a lazy, blissed-out grin. “So worth it.”

She’s sticky, spent, her thighs slick with the proof of how hard she came, and fuck—you can’t stop looking at her. The way her skin glows under the dim light, the faint sheen of sweat across her collarbone, the lazy, blissed-out smile tugging at her lips.

“You came a lot,” you murmur, your thumb brushing over the inside of her thigh, collecting some of the slick there just to tease her.

Karina laughs breathlessly, tucking herself closer against you. “I know,” she whispers, voice still a little shaky. “I—I can feel it. It’s everywhere.”

You smirk, fingers trailing higher, skimming just close enough to make her shiver, her legs twitching in response. “And how are you gonna clean up this mess?”

She bites her lip, eyes hazy with exhaustion and something else—something playful, teasing. “I don’t know…” she admits, cheeks flushing. “Maybe I’ll just sleep in it. Let it dry. Pretend it never happened.”

You groan, head tilting back against the pillows. “Fuck, babe. Don’t say shit like that unless you want me to go again.”

She giggles, pressing a sleepy kiss to your collarbone. “You’re insatiable,” she murmurs. “It’s kinda hot.”

You roll over, pinning her under you again just to feel the heat of her, the way she immediately gasps, eyes going wide. You don’t even do anything, just hover there, feeling her warmth, the rapid beat of her heart against your chest. Her lips part, her breath catching.

“Insatiable, huh?” you echo, smirking.

She swallows, her fingers curling into your hair, her nails scratching lightly against your scalp. “Yeah,” she whispers. “But I love it.”

Your heart clenches, the way it always does when she says things like that, when she looks at you like you hung the fucking stars just for her. You don’t even realize you’re moving until your lips are on hers, slow, deep, lingering. You kiss her like you’ve got all the time in the world, like you never want to stop. And she melts into it, pressing closer, sighing softly into your mouth.

“I love you so much,” you murmur against her lips, meaning it in a way that makes your chest ache.

She smiles, eyes fluttering open, fingers trailing down your chest. “I love you too,” she whispers, and then—just like that—her hand is back on your cock, stroking slow, lazy, teasing.

You groan, your hips jerking slightly into her grip. She smirks.

“Where do you want to cum?” she asks, all innocent, like she doesn’t already know the answer.

You raise a brow, lips quirking. “Really?”

She tilts her head, her grip tightening just slightly. “What?”

“You already know.”

She hums, pretending to think, but you can see the amusement in her eyes. “On my boobs?”

You grin. “Obviously.”

She sighs, mock dramatic. “You always wanna cum on my boobs.”

“You’re acting like it’s a bad thing.”

She laughs. “Didn’t say that.”

“Good,” you murmur, rolling off her, sitting up at the edge of the bed. “Then get over here.”

Karina follows you and moves, but the second her feet hit the floor, her legs wobble, and she stumbles, catching herself against the mattress.

You snort. “Damn, babe. You good?”

She glares at you, cheeks pink, but she’s grinning. “Shut up,” she mutters. “You did this to me.”

“I know,” you say, smug. “And I love seeing you like this.”

She sticks her tongue out at you before stepping closer, standing between your legs, completely bare, her skin still flushed, her thighs still sticky.

And fuck—you’ll never get tired of looking at her.

She doesn’t say anything, just reaches up, cupping her own breasts, squeezing them together like she knows exactly what it does to you. Her tits are already perfect, full and soft, but like this, pressed together, forming that perfect valley of warmth—fuck.

She meets your gaze, lips curling. “Ready?”

Before you can answer, she leans down slightly, spits between her breasts, letting it drip down before rubbing it in, spreading it, making herself even slicker for you.

Your cock twitches.

“Karina,” you groan, your jaw tightening. “You’re actually trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

She laughs, warm and sweet, but there’s something else in her eyes—something darker, teasing. “Mm,” she hums, pressing your cock between her tits, wrapping them around you in that impossibly soft, perfect warmth. “I’d never.”

Then she starts to move.

She doesn’t rush. She knows exactly how you like it—slow at first, letting the warmth sink in, letting the slick glide over your skin. The pressure is perfect, just tight enough, her tits molding around your cock like they were fucking made for this. She watches your face, gauging every reaction, waiting for that moment your jaw tenses, your breath stutters.

“God, Karina,” you groan, hands finding their way to her shoulders, holding onto her, needing something to ground you.

She smirks, rolling her shoulders slightly to change the angle, pressing you tighter, making your cock slide even smoother between her tits. “Feels good?”

“You fucking know it does.”

She laughs, the sound vibrating through her chest, and you swear you feel it all the way down to your cock. Then, just to drive you insane, she sticks out her tongue, letting the tip just barely brush against your swollen, leaking head every time you thrust forward.

“Fuck,” you hiss, hips jerking involuntarily. “You’re—shit—”

“Hot?” she supplies, teasing.

You groan. “You already know.”

She grins, keeping her movements steady, smooth, effortless. Every glide, every stroke is better than the last, the warmth of her, the way she presses you tighter each time—it’s too fucking much. You know you’re close already, but you don’t wanna stop, don’t wanna let it end.

“How much do you love me?” she asks suddenly, her voice playful, light.

You look down at her, and your chest tightens. She’s smiling, her eyes sparkling, her skin glowing. She looks so happy, so perfect, and in this moment, you don’t think you’ve ever loved anyone more.

You brush her hair back, thumb stroking her cheek. “More than anything,” you murmur. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Her breath catches slightly, just for a second, but then she’s grinning again, pressing her tits even tighter around you. “Then cum for me,” she whispers. “I wanna feel your hot cum on my tits.”

Her tongue flicks out, teasing your tip, licking up the steady drip of precum leaking from you.

“You always make such a mess,” she murmurs, her voice low and teasing, her lips just barely grazing your swollen head before she pulls back with a wicked smirk. “Bet you wanna cum all over me, huh?”

You groan, gripping her shoulders tighter. “Karina, fuck—”

She hums in amusement, squeezing her tits together tighter, moving faster. “So desperate,” she coos, tilting her head as she watches your face. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Make a mess all over my tits?”

Your jaw clenches, your whole body coiling up, right fucking there. “Fuck, yeah, I—”

DING-DONG.

Your entire world stops.

The doorbell rings again.

A knock follows almost immediately.

And then, a voice—deep, familiar, fucking horrifying.

“Karina, open the door! We forgot the key.”

Karina’s father.

Your stomach plummets.

Karina freezes, her tits still pressed around your cock, hands gripping herself tightly, pupils blowing wide with pure, unfiltered panic.

Your brain goes static. Every part of you is still humming with the need to cum, and now it’s colliding headfirst into the very real terror of being caught like this—naked, hard as fuck, seconds away from spilling all over her perfect tits while her dad is standing right outside the door.

“Holy fucking shit,” you whisper, heart pounding.

Karina swallows, her mind racing. Then, before you can do anything, she shouts toward the door, her voice just barely steady. “C—coming! Just—uh—give me a second!”

Another knock. Impatient. Firm.

Her mother’s voice now. “We’ve been knocking for a while, sweetie. What are you doing in there?”

Karina’s eyes snap to yours.

And then—

That wild fucking look flashes through them.

“Baby,” she whispers, tits still pressing together around your cock, slick and tight. “Cum. Now.”

You stare at her. “Are you insane?!”

She bites her lip, shifts slightly, rubbing her tits together just right, and your hips jerk forward, completely on instinct. “If you don’t, you’re going to run away from here still hard,” she whispers, voice dripping with something dangerous. “With your cock still leaking, all needy and desperate.”

You groan, throwing your head back, torn between sheer terror and white-hot fucking lust.

“You’re actually insane,” you hiss, body trembling, every inch of you straining toward release even as your fucking life is flashing before your eyes.

She grins. “You love it.”

Then she starts moving again.

Faster this time. Harder.

“You have, like, thirty seconds,” she whispers, squeezing you tighter, pumping her tits up and down around your cock like she’s hell-bent on ruining you. “Better cum fast, baby.”

“Holy—fucking—shit,” you groan, fists clenching in the sheets, your entire body burning.

The knock on the door comes again. “Karina.”

Her father’s voice is sharp now, insistent.

Karina doesn’t even look away. Her breath is hot against your cock, her tongue flicking just barely over your tip every time you thrust between her tits.

“Come on, baby,” she whispers, voice like satin over fire, her tits bouncing in time with her strokes. “You can do it. Just let go for me.”

“Karina—fuck—” You’re so close, your vision blurring at the edges, that sweet fucking burn coiling deep in your stomach.

Karina doesn’t stop.

She doesn’t slow down, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t flinch—not even with the knock at the door, not even with her father right there, waiting, expecting her to answer. If anything, the urgency only fuels her, makes her hands move faster, makes her press her tits together tighter, makes her mouth filthy as she coaxes you closer to the edge.

“Come on, baby,” she whispers, her voice breathy, desperate, dripping with heat. “Give it to me. I need it.”

Your stomach is a coiled spring, that burning pressure inside you mounting so hard and fast you can barely breathe. The mix of fear, adrenaline, and raw, aching pleasure is making your pulse roar in your ears, every part of you strung tight as a fucking wire.

“You gonna cum for me?” she presses, her tits squeezing, bouncing, slick and warm, wrapped so fucking tight around you.

“Fuck—fuck, yeah—” Your voice is rough, your head tilting back, every nerve in your body locking up as you hit the point of no return.

Karina leans in, her lips just inches from your tip, her tongue flicking out one last time, and in that needy, desperate, breathless voice, she begs—

“Cum for me, baby. Give it to me. I want all of it.”

And that’s it.

That’s the fucking end of you.

Your whole body locks up, a broken groan ripping out of your throat as the pleasure finally fucking snaps. Your cock jerks, your abs tightening as thick, hot spurts spill out, painting Karina’s perfect, heaving chest.

She moans, her breath catching, her eyes dark with hunger as she watches your cum spill over her tits, sliding between the valley of soft, flushed skin.

She doesn’t stop.

She keeps squeezing, her hands milking every last drop, her fingers digging in as she rubs her tits together, making sure she gets it all.

“Fuck, fuck—” You don’t even recognize your own voice anymore, wrecked, your hips jerking weakly, your whole body shaking from how hard you’re cumming. It doesn’t stop, each pulse sending another hot rope onto her skin, dripping down the curve of her breasts, pooling in the dip of her collarbone.

She’s completely covered in you.

Your vision blurs. Your lungs burn. The pleasure is too much, too deep, too fucking intense. Your head spins as the last weak tremors shake through you, every muscle in your body spent.

You sag back onto the mattress, exhaling hard, your heart still slamming against your ribs.

Karina grins, rubbing a finger through the mess, spreading it over her skin, her tongue flicking out to taste a drop of it. “You always cum so much for me,” she purrs.

You’re about to say something—something cocky, something filthy—

But then—

Another knock.

Louder.

“Karina!” Her dad’s voice is sharp now, no longer patient. “What is taking so long?”

Karina’s eyes widen, and suddenly, the reality of the situation slams back into both of you.

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

She whips around, grabbing the nearest thing—a crumpled tissue from her nightstand—and starts wiping herself down, frantically dabbing at her chest, trying to clean up the mess before her parents fucking bust the door down.

She’s panting, her hands shaking slightly as she grabs more, working fast, trying to get rid of every trace. “Baby, you have to go. Now.”

You’re already moving, stumbling to your feet, your limbs still weak, your brain still sluggish from the sheer force of that orgasm. You snatch your clothes off the floor, yanking on your pants with shaking hands, fumbling with the zipper as Karina rushes to her closet, grabbing the first thing she can find—a loose hoodie and some pajama shorts.

“Karina.” Another knock. “We’re waiting!”

She yells back, voice strained. “I’m coming, just—just hold on!”

She pulls the hoodie over her head, wiping her chest one last time before whirling on you. “The window,” she breathes.

You nod, grabbing your shirt, not even bothering to button it as you stumble toward the window, your heart pounding out of your chest.

Karina grabs your arm, pulling you back for one last, hurried kiss, her lips soft, warm, frantic against yours.

“I love you,” she whispers, breathless.

You squeeze her waist, your forehead dropping to hers for half a second before pulling back. “I love you too.”

Then—you’re gone.

You slip out the window, landing hard on the grass outside, your legs still shaky as fuck, your body still buzzing with the lingering aftershocks. You don’t have time to process it—you just move, running quietly, disappearing into the night just as you hear the sound of Karina’s door unlocking behind you, ready to leap into your car and disappear completely.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

That was way too close.

Karina yanks open the door, still breathless, her pulse pounding so loud in her ears she can barely hear her father’s impatient sigh. He’s standing there, arms crossed, brows furrowed, looking at her like she’s already guilty of something. Her mother is behind him, rubbing her temples, looking exhausted and irritated, like the entire day has been one long, drawn-out headache.

“You took your time,” her dad says, stepping inside without waiting for a invitation. His eyes sweep over her, sharp and assessing, and she suddenly feels way too warm in her hoodie.

“I was—uh, I was changing,” she stammers, tucking her hair behind her ear as she follows them into the living room. “Got comfortable and didn’t wanna open the door like that, you know?” She forces a sheepish smile, hoping they don’t hear how unsteady her voice is.

Her father doesn’t seem convinced, but her mother is already waving a dismissive hand, dropping onto the couch with a weary sigh. “It doesn’t matter. We have bigger things to talk about.”

Karina perks up immediately, desperate for anything that’ll shift their attention away from her. “Oh? What happened?”

Her mother exhales sharply, rubbing her temples. “The wedding’s postponed.”

That actually throws her. “Wait, what? Seriously?”

Her dad nods, his jaw tight with irritation. “The priest never showed up.”

Karina blinks. What the hell kind of excuse is that? “What? Why?”

Her mother groans, sinking deeper into the couch like she wants to disappear into it. “Emergency surgery. Can you believe that? Of all the damn days, he picks today to have a medical crisis.”

Karina presses her lips together, trying so hard not to laugh. “Uh. That sucks.”

“Sucks?” Her dad snorts. “That’s one way to put it. Half the guests had already arrived, the reception was prepped, and then we get told—‘sorry, no priest, no wedding.’” His scowl deepens, shaking his head. “It’s a disaster.”

“Total nightmare,” her mother agrees, sighing. “And now we have to wait for them to reschedule the wedding. We will have to reorganize everything again—ugh, I don’t even want to think about it.”

Karina nods sympathetically, even though she barely cares. She’s just grateful they aren’t questioning her right now. “Yeah. That’s… awful. Really awful.”

But then her father’s eyes narrow slightly, lingering on her face. “Why are you blushing?”

Karina freezes. She didn’t even realize she was. Heat is practically radiating off her, her cheeks still flushed from everything that happened minutes ago, her body still tingling in the aftermath.

“I—I’m blushing?” she asks, stalling. “Really?” She presses a hand to her cheek like she’s just now noticing, playing dumb. “Huh. I guess I got warm running around getting dressed.”

Her dad squints at her, clearly unconvinced, but before he can push any further, her mom frowns at something behind her.

“What’s your shirt doing on the couch?”

Karina whips around, stomach dropping through the floor.

There it is. The shirt she was wearing earlier. The one she was wearing while you were fucking her on that very couch. The one she took off, carelessly tossed aside in the heat of the moment, and completely forgot about.

Her brain stalls, panic roaring through her.

“I—” She swallows hard. “I guess I just—forgot to pick it up.”

Her father frowns, shaking his head. “You know we don’t like clothes scattered around the house.”

“I know, I know.” She forces a nervous laugh, grabbing it so fast it’s almost suspicious. “Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.”

Her dad just gives her a look, but thankfully, he doesn’t say anything else. Her mom sighs again, waving a dismissive hand. “Whatever. Just put it in the laundry.”

“Yep, will do,” Karina says quickly, turning to escape before something else goes wrong. But just as she’s about to flee the scene, her father’s voice stops her.

“Hold on.”

She stiffens. Turns back way too slowly.

“What?”

Her dad’s expression is unreadable, but there’s a strange sharpness in his voice now. “On our way here, I noticed a car parked down the street.”

Karina’s stomach tightens. “Yeah?”

Her dad nods. “Looked a lot like the car that guy you used to date drove.”

Her breath catches, but she forces herself to play dumb. “Oh?” she says, as casually as she can. “Uh. You sure?”

Her dad narrows his eyes slightly. “Yeah. Same model, same color.”

Karina shakes her head quickly. “I mean, that’s a pretty common car. Could’ve been anyone’s.”

Her dad doesn’t look fully convinced. “Maybe.” Then, before she can stop him, he gestures toward the door. “Come outside with me. Let’s check.”

Karina’s heart slams against her ribs. Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

She hesitates just a second too long before nodding quickly. “Yeah. Sure.”

They step out onto the porch, the streetlights casting long shadows over the pavement. Her father looks around, scanning the parked cars along the curb, eyes sharp, searching. Karina barely breathes, her stomach twisting into knots. If your car is still there, she’s fucked. She follows his gaze, trying not to look as panicked as she feels, praying. But when they look—Nothing. No car.

You’re gone.

She barely stops herself from sagging in relief, instead turning to her father with a casual shrug. “See? Nothing there.”

He frowns slightly, looking around like he doesn’t quite believe it, but after a moment, he just mutters, “Guess I was wrong.”

Before Karina can fully celebrate surviving this, her mother’s voice cuts through the night, sharp and exhausted. “What the hell are you two doing out there? Get inside!”

Karina nods quickly, practically bolting for the door, her father following behind, still looking a little suspicious but thankfully dropping it.

This time, she actually escaped.

Barely.

—

Your phone buzzes just past midnight, Karina’s name lighting up the screen. You don’t even hesitate, answering immediately, her voice coming through the line soft but amused.

“Hey,” she whispers, and you can hear the rustle of sheets in the background. She’s in bed, probably curled up under the covers, trying not to wake anyone.

“Hey, baby,” you murmur back, your voice just as low. “You okay?”

She exhales a quiet laugh. “I survived. Barely.”

You smirk, shifting onto your back, getting comfortable. “Yeah? What happened?”

Karina sighs, like she’s replaying the whole thing in her head. “My dad was suspicious as hell. He saw your car on the street and wanted to go check, but by some miracle, you were already gone. If you’d been there even a second longer—” She cuts herself off, and you can practically hear her shudder on the other end.

“Damn,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Close call.”

“Way too close,” she agrees, her voice dipping lower. “And then my mom found my shirt on the couch—the one I took off while we were, you know… and I had to pretend I just forgot to put it away. My dad was already looking at me weird, and then she asked why I was blushing, and I had nothing. No excuse. Just standing there like a idiot while I could still feel your—” She stops herself, groaning softly. “God. The whole thing was a disaster.”

You chuckle, amused at how frazzled she sounds now that it’s over. “But you pulled it off. Got away with it again.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, a hint of pride in her voice. “I always do.”

You smirk, shifting the phone against your ear. “And what about the mess?”

“What mess?” she asks, and then realization hits. “Oh. That.”

You snort. “Yeah, that. What’d you do with the squirt-stained bed, babe?”

She groans. “Ugh. I had to change everything. Sheets, pillowcases, everything went straight into the washing machine the second my parents went to bed. The mattress was safe, thank god. I think if I ruined my bed like that, I’d have to just set it on fire and move away.”

You laugh, picturing her rushing around, cleaning up, making sure there was no evidence left behind. It’s ridiculous, the lengths you both go to just to be together, but there’s something kind of thrilling about it too.

“You’re such a menace,” you tease.

“Says the guy who made me do that in the first place,” she fires back.

You grin. “Worth it?”

She pauses, then hums. “So worth it.”

You both fall quiet for a moment, the comfortable silence stretching between you. You love this—these little stolen moments, these late-night calls where you can just exist together, even if it’s only through the phone.

“You seeing me tomorrow?” you ask, knowing the answer but wanting to hear her say it.

“Mhm,” she murmurs, voice warm. “Cinema, remember? Told my parents I’m going with a friend.”

You smirk. “We should really start keeping track of how many lies you’ve told just to see me.”

She giggles. “At this point, it’s gotta be in the triple digits.”

“Totally worth it.”

“Absolutely,” she agrees, voice soft.

“Get some sleep, baby,” you murmur. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Mm. Night, babe.”

You both hesitate, neither of you wanting to hang up first, but eventually, Karina whispers one last “love you” before ending the call.

The next day, you meet her outside the cinema, standing near the entrance, watching as she walks toward you. She’s wearing something simple—just jeans and a cute cropped hoodie—but she looks gorgeous, her hair down, her face lit up with that familiar mischievous smile.

“Hey, troublemaker,” you greet, grinning.

She rolls her eyes but laughs. “Says you.”

You tuck your hands into your pockets, smirking. “Our life is a goddamn adventure at this point.”

Karina snorts. “No kidding. I feel like I should start journaling everything before we end up in a documentary.”

You chuckle, reaching for her hand, pulling her close. “Yeah? You like the adrenaline rush?”

She pretends to think about it for a second, then grins. “I kinda do.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head, watching her expression.

She leans in slightly, her voice quieter. “But I think what I like more is just… being with you. Even if it means sneaking around and making up a thousand excuses.”

Your heart clenches a little, warmth spreading through your chest. You squeeze her fingers, giving her a knowing smile. “You won’t have to lie forever.”

She nods, eyes flickering with something softer, more serious. “College is almost over. Once we’re out of here… nothing can separate us.”

You love the way she says it, like it’s a promise. Like there’s no doubt in her mind.

“Nothing,” you agree.

She smiles, pulling you toward the entrance. “Now, come on. We actually have to watch the movie, or my parents are gonna ask for a recap later.”

You chuckle, following her inside, feeling that familiar buzz of excitement—not just from sneaking around, not just from the thrill of getting away with it again, but from knowing that college is almost over. The endless rules, the curfews, the constant risk of getting caught—it’s all temporary. Soon, you won’t have to make excuses. You won’t have to sneak out of windows. It’ll just be you and Karina, no secrets, no hiding. Just the future waiting for you.

And honestly? You can’t fucking wait.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Toy Cars | Fernando Alonso x Mum! Reader

Summary: Fernando boasts about his step-sons to anyone who will listen. So, when you realise you want more, he's confused why your little family is no longer enough.

Warnings: angst, slight age gap. i pictured reader about 35

Requested: no

just a short one compared to the others

F1 Masterlist

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fernandoalo_official just posted

liked by astonmartinf1, aussiegrit and others

fernandoalo_official not been an easy weekend so far but it’s made easier when one of my favourite people is in the paddock

14,114 comments

jensonbutton but i’m not working this weekend?

→ lance_stroll we all know i’m his other favourite person

→ fernandoalo_official no, the twins are

→ user1 step dad nando has my whole heart

→ yn_ln mine too! 

user2 a hug from fernando would heal me

→ user3 a hug from y/n would heal me

yn_ln weekends where i get to see you are my favourite

→ user4 i will never be normal about these two 

→ user5 it’s the fact that he watches the f2 races because it gives him an excuse to hang out with y/n 

astonmartinf1 our favourite couple 

user6 need fernando to win now that he’s had his good luck hug 

yn_ln just posted

liked by jensonbutton, lance_stroll and others

yn_ln back on track for the twins. both my boys did a wonderful job with high position finishes… oh and they were visited by an enthusiastic fan 😉

5,343 comments

fernandoalo_official i’ll be getting you in one of those karts next 

→ yn_ln that’s going to take a lot of convincing, nando 

→ fernandoalo_official i can think of a few ways, mi vida

→ landonorris ew

→ user7 mi vida!! i will never be normal about these two 

aussiegrit how’d he get his hair that tall 

→ astonmartinf1 it’s so full of secrets 

fa_alonsokart calling the boss an enthusiastic fan is such a power move

→ user8 the fact that he let her and didn’t comment on it tho 

lance_stroll they'll be taking his seat soon enough

user9 love how supportive fernando is of his step-sons

→ user10 he literally started a karting school so that he could help their karting careers

→ user11 the dad that stepped up

user1 what’s your favourite fa14 fact? mine is that he fell in love with y/n l/n, realised she had twins and immediately started enacting project alonso 

→ user2 no because the twins were 11 when he met them and now they’re 15 and looking at f3 seats 

user3 this is what i’ve been saying. fernando doesn’t just love y/n, he loves her children just as much, if not more

user4 fernando alonso puts all other step-dads to shame because he is always there for them, no matter how busy his life is

user5 i really need fernando to hurry up and propose because that is his family

→ user6 yes! he needs to make project alonso official by giving them all his last name

→ user7 and then more babies!  

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comments 

user8 why was this the cutest thing said by anyone ever. like those are his boys 

user9 wait, so does this mean he doesn’t want kids?

user10 the way he cut that interviewer off because that his family whether they share blood or not

→ user11 i read it as he didn’t want to talk about it any more because he doesn’t want more kids and maybe he and y/n haven’t talked about it yet 

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yn_ln just posted

liked by kellypiquet, alexandrasaintmleux and others 

yn_ln an empty house for the week makes me realise that i miss hearing about cars 

2,343 comments

user1 aw are the flowers from fernando?

kellypiquet max keeps trying to convince me to get another cat. don’t let him see this

→ maxverstappen1 too late 

user2 wait, why isn’t she spending summer break with nando?

→ user3 because he’s on holiday 

→ user2 without her? 

→ user4 they don’t have to spend every minute together. he’s allowed to have a break 

user5 guys, y/n and fernando don’t follow each other anymore?

→ user6 i thought you were lying but then i checked and it’s true :( 

→ user7 oh that captions hit extra hard

user8 no because her entire life is racing and now that it’s not there, she realises she misses it

→ user9 she misses him

user10 i’m so confused. they were so in love like two weeks ago. what happened?

user11 no because i can’t imagine seeing fernando without y/n

user12 is he still going to support the twins? 

user13 but you were supposed to get married to fernando and have lots of little alonso’s

→ user14 maybe one of them didn’t want that 

→ user15 can’t imagine it being alonso, he thinks the world of the twins

→ user16 true. he does mention them in almost every interview 

user1 when i remembered f2 were racing this weekend, i was so happy because that meant yn and nando content and then i remembered they’d broken up

→ user2 all the tweets on here are tearing my heart out as well 

user3 they’ve not spoken to each other once today

user4 yes she walked straight past him but there’s clips of her entire face crumpling as soon as she’s past him

→ user5 yes! i saw that. her colleague had to usher her into the garage before she started crying 

user6 the fact that fernando spent the entire time watching her though

→ user7 even when people were talking to him, he was full on staring at her

→ user8 brokenhearted lover boy made no attempts to hide it 

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Baby Fever Angst Series

Love that I mentioned request for Esteban once and I already have 5 requests 😂 I didn't realise there was that much love for Ocon considering I can never find any fics for him

tag list

[mossadspypigeon]

king david had red hair before we were colonized but okay.

palestinians lmao

more light haired palestinian kids from their own propaganda videos:

ope guess they’re white people. same with black africans who have red hair!

just tell me you don’t know what the fuck genetic diversity is or how it works. it’s amazing how “progressives” who claim to love diversity echo so many racist, straight up eugenicist talking points and have no understanding of actual diversity.

i wont get into levantine groups like assyrians, yazidis, JEWS, kurds, samaritans, etc all having light hair and eye genes. (and guess what, arabs and turks have them too, as seen above 🙄🤦)

learn some fucking science jfc

[fireinmoonshot]

soft hearted | joaquin torres x fem! reader

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: You're not the type of person to go clubbing – but Joaquin is pretty good at convincing you to come along with him when he goes. Yet, when an interaction with another man at the club goes badly, Joaquin is there to pick up the pieces and make sure you're okay. Warnings: Mentions of drinking/clubbing/eating/food as well as a guy at the club being creepy and physically grabbing the readers wrist, causing a bruise. Word Count: 4.1k A/N: Here I am with another Joaquin fic! I really love how this one turned out. I honestly wrote it just this afternoon in a few hours, I started it and I couldn't stop working on it. I'm really happy with it so I hope those of you who read it enjoy it, even though it's longer than my last Joaquin fic! Please let me know if you liked it and if you'd like to read more Joaquin from me! 💗

“Did I ever say thank you for coming out with us tonight?” Joaquin says, placing a hand on the small of your back to help guide you as the two of you make your way through the crowd, heading back to your booth where your friends are waiting for their drinks.

He’s been texting you all day trying to convince you to join them tonight – but you are the one member of your friendship group that isn’t into partying and clubbing. It’s always difficult to convince you to leave your house once you’re there. 

It never stops Joaquin from trying though. He always enjoys clubbing more when you come out with them. Even just being in your presence is something he loves – whether he’s at a club or anywhere else.

“Oh, just about ten times,” you flash him a grin, trying to avoid bumping into anyone and spilling the drinks. Your friends had been waiting long enough considering how busy the club was. 

Joaquin laughs, the sound audible above the loud music in the bar. It’s a familiar sound and one that instantly comforts you despite your unease at being in such a crowded place. “Definitely room for me to improve, then, angel. What do you think?” 

“I think, pretty boy, that you could probably benefit from inviting me out somewhere other than a packed club sometimes, simply so I can talk to you without having to yell!” You joke, flashing him a look as you finally get back to the booth where your friends are waiting, placing the tray with all of their drinks on it on the table. They all take their drinks, yelling thank you’s at you and Joaquin as you take your seats again. 

“You guys made it!” One of your friends, Cruz, yells out at the both of you.

Joaquin meets your eyes from across the table with a grimace. Cruz is incredibly drunk by the sound of his slurred voice. Joaquin is only a few drinks deep and he’s nowhere near as far gone as Cruz is. You both share an amused smile as Joaquin takes a swig of his beer.

Clubs are not your thing, never have been. It just so happens that you’ve befriended several people that love them – Joaquin being quite the enthusiast. He’s dragged you out to many clubs over the city in the time since you’ve known him. If it were anyone else, you were pretty sure you never would’ve gone… but with Joaquin, you don’t mind it. His presence is comforting, even in such a busy and chaotic atmosphere.

Joaquin is the kind of guy that all the girls and guys in clubs like these like, and on nights like this, you can understand why. The way he looks, a smile on his face as he laughs at something one of your friends says, the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead from the warm air. He’s effortlessly attractive to anyone that looks at him. He’s so comfortable here. You’ve always found Joaquin attractive, but even you can admit that he looks even more attractive when he’s in a place like this – if that’s even possible.

You take a long sip of your drink – water, having decided early in the night that you were gonna be the designated driver for your friends so that they could all enjoy their night properly. 

“I’m just going to the bathroom, okay?” You lean into your friend, Katy, sitting beside you to tell her. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ll take my phone with me if you need me!”

She nods, a little pre-occupied in a conversation with the guy beside her – someone she’d met earlier in the night at the club and had been with you guys ever since. Your eyes fall on Joaquin briefly, still laughing at something he’d heard, as you stand from the booth.

It’s difficult to make your way through the crowd without Joaquin guiding you, making you feel safe with his hands on you, but you manage. When you see the door to the bathrooms you almost let out a sigh of relief. They’re empty when you finally make your way inside – another relief. Girls at clubs can be nice, but they can also be the entire opposite and it’s nice to have a moment completely to yourself to have a second to breathe.

Once you’re done, you take another long breath before leaving the bathroom, preparing yourself for the walk back through the crowd of people dancing so you can get back to your friends. You walk past the bar first, finding it to be a little less crowded than the dance floor.

It’s louder over this side of the room, the music thudding and thumping since you’re closer to the speakers. It’s probably the reason you don’t hear the voice of someone beside you at the bar trying to talk to you as you attempt to make your way past. You only realise when a hand grabs your wrist, tugging you backwards. You stumble a little, bracing yourself on the edge of the bar, eyes falling on a light haired man sitting on a stool at the bar. The way he’s looking at you already makes you feel uneasy. 

“Do you often ignore people who are trying to talk to you, honey?” He says, voice raised enough for you to be able to hear him.

“I’m sorry?” You furrow your eyebrows. “If you said something before, I didn’t hear it. It’s pretty loud in here.” You point towards the roof of the bar where the speakers are. 

He laughs, a sound completely opposite to the sound of Joaquin’s earlier. This mans laugh immediately unsettles you and if he wasn’t still holding onto your wrist, you would be gone. But he has an uncomfortably tight grip on it and you doubt he’s planning to let go.

“Yeah, sure,” he scoffs, then picks up his drink and takes a long sip of it. “Listen, I don’t appreciate being ignored, okay? I put myself out there to talk to you, so I’d appreciate it if you gave me the same energy in return.”

You swallow, heart in your throat, and attempt to take a deep breath. This is not good. Why had you gone to the bathroom by yourself? Especially on such a busy night in a busy club.

“Okay,” you start. “If you let go of my wrist, I’ll sit down here and we can talk for a bit.” You figure it can’t hurt to try and bargain with him, even though you have every intention of trying to get as far away from him as quickly as possible when he lets go.

“How can I be sure you won’t run away? Nah, I don’t think I will let go.” He adjusts his grip on your wrist, pulling you a little closer to him. Your heart starts beating faster as the fear starts to set in.

You risk a glance across the bar in the direction of your friends booth and feel your stomach drop as you realise you can’t see them from here, meaning they can’t see you either. Surely Katy would notice that you hadn’t come back yet and would come looking for you… you aren’t too far away from the bathrooms, so there’s a chance she’d see you on her way… but you know that she’s too occupied with her new man to come looking for you. 

This is why you don’t like coming out. This is why you always say no when Joaquin or your other friends ask you to come out with them. And the one time you say yes, this is what happens. You should’ve told Joaquin where you were going as well but you figured it’d be okay – it was just a quick trip to the bathroom, what could go wrong?

Panic starts to rise in your stomach and you try your best to push it down and not let it get the better of you. You know you need to keep yourself calm in a situation like this, especially around a man like this, or things can go south quickly. 

“I promise I won’t run away,” you lie, trying not to let your nerves come through in your tone of voice. “But you’re actually really hurting me right now, so I’d appreciate if you let me go. Can we make a deal? I won’t run and you’ll let go.”

You can tell by the look in the mans eyes that he isn’t going to give up this easily. The longer he keeps holding your wrist, the more your breathing starts to get heavier. How can you get out of this situation when he’s not willing to make this deal with you?

A hand gently lands on your lower back and you flinch, just as you hear a soft voice in your ear. “It’s just me, you’re okay,” Joaquin whispers, calming you immediately.

It’s impossible not to let out a breath of relief as your eyes fall on him. He’d come after you. He’d noticed you were gone or Katy had told him you hadn’t come back yet. He’s here. You’re not alone with this man and you know Joaquin isn’t going to leave you.

Joaquin’s hand gently rubs up and down on your back.

“What you’re gonna do right now is let go of the ladies wrist,” he says simply.

You watch as the mans eyes flicker towards Joaquin but then fall back on you, his grip still tight around your wrist. You attempt to step a little closer to Joaquin but it’s impossible to move with him still holding onto you.

“Hey! Eyes over here, man. Not on her.”

The man sighs. “Listen, man–”

“No, you listen to me,” Joaquin steps in-between you and the man, his voice forceful and loud above the music. “What you are going to do right now is let go of her wrist or I am going to break yours right here, right now. And that won’t be all I break either.”

“Okay, sure. You definitely look strong enough to do that, pal,” he scoffs.

You inwardly wince. You know Joaquin is strong enough to do that and worse. He’s a Captain in the Air Force and he’s The Falcon. You’re pretty certain that he could inflict a lot more damage than a broken wrist.

“You wanna find out?” Joaquin asks.

The look on Joaquin’s face must be intimidating because the man finally relinquishes his hold on your wrist. You immediately wrap your other hand around your wrist, holding it to your chest and trying to ignore the pain throbbing through it from his grip.

The man throws his hands in the air and rolls his eyes before standing and walking away, further into the crowd of people. Before he’s even disappeared from your view, Joaquin has turned around, his hands moving to take your arm and carefully examine your wrist.

“It’s already starting to bruise… that bastard,” he mutters, his eyes dark. You can hear every word despite the loud music around you simply because of how close he’s moved into your space. “You okay? I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I only just noticed you were gone a few minutes ago and Katy mentioned something about the bathroom so I went there straight away but I couldn’t find you.”

The fear and panic in your stomach has gone, now replaced by nausea. You can feel yourself starting to shake, the adrenaline of everything starting to wear off. “Can you take me home?”

Joaquin doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your waist, hold you close and leading you out of the bar. He figures he’ll just text your friends once you’re both safely in a cab to tell them where you’d both gone – that and he’s a little annoyed at Katy for letting you go to the bathroom alone. He’s annoyed at himself for not noticing sooner that you’d disappeared. 

“I’d drive you home myself but I’ve been drinking, angel,” Joaquin says as the two of you wait for a cab on the sidewalk just up the street from the club. His arm is still wrapped around your waist, holding you close. It’s comforting to you, helping you to remember that he’s still there beside you, not going anywhere. “My place is closer, but we can go to yours if you feel up for a longer cab ride.”

You shake your head. “Your place is fine.” You’ve stayed over at his apartment before, several times, both alone and with other friends. His bed is much more comfortable than your own, you’ve learned, since he never lets you sleep on the couch.

“Okay,” he says, rubbing your back gently as the cab pulls up in front of you.

He lets you in first before sitting beside you and telling the cab driver his address. One of his hands holds yours, his thumb gently sweeping back and forth over your skin in an attempt to help calm you down. He can see how uneasy you still feel after it all. Why had he not gotten to you sooner? Not realised you were missing sooner? 

The cab ride back to his apartment is silent, as is the elevator ride up to his floor. You wait beside him, arms crossed over your chest as he unlocks his front door and lets you inside first. 

“You wanna shower or something?” He asks, closing the door behind you.

“Yeah, I think that’d help,” your voice is small. The sound of it makes Joaquin’s heart hurt. 

“You remember where I keep my clothes? You can help yourself, angel.” 

You nod, reaching over to gently squeeze his hand again before heading towards his bedroom to get some of his clothes to change into before heading into the bathroom just off of his bedroom. 

While you shower, Joaquin kicks off his shoes, steps into the kitchen and starts working on making you something to eat. Something warm, something comforting. He’s become a pretty decent cook over the past few years and cooking for you is one of his favourite things to do. He’s always inviting you over for dinner, which is exactly the reason why you know where he keeps his clothes – you eat, you stay late talking, Joaquin refuses to let you go home when it’s so late at night and he has a perfectly comfortable bed.

His heart almost stops in his chest as he sees you walking out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of his sweatpants and a shirt. “I know I’ve said this before, angel, but you look damn good in my clothes,” he flashes you a grin. 

You teasingly roll your eyes at him as you walk into the kitchen, arms crossed over your chest as you try and suss out what he’s cooking you. “Bet you say that to all the friends you let stay over and borrow your clothes, Torres.”

Joaquin snorts. “Bold of you to assume I have other friends staying over.”

He doesn’t. Even out of your friendship group, you are the only person who’s stayed over in the last several months and especially the only person he’s let sleep in his bed and borrow his clothes. He’s not willing to admit to himself what that really means. Not yet.

“What are you cooking?” You ask, peeking inside the pot on the stove.

“Pozole,” he says, coming up beside you, his hand resting on the small of your back. He’s apparently incapable of keeping his hands to himself when he’s worried about you. “It won’t be ready for another hour and a half at least, but I figured cooking you something comforting and warm might be nice. I was already gonna cook it for dinner this week so I had everything in the fridge ready to go.” 

“Joaquin, you didn’t have to do that,” you glance over at him. “Really, I would’ve been fine with a cup of tea or a pack of cup noodles. And it’s so late.” You mean it honestly, even though the fact that he’s been prepping everything for this while you were showering sits heavy and meaningful in your stomach. No one ever does things like this for you… except Joaquin.

He shrugs his shoulders and moves away from the stove, hands on your waist so that you move with him. He directs you over to the couch, waiting till you sit down before he puts a blanket in your lap and attempts – badly – to tuck you in. 

“What are you doing?” You can’t help but laugh. 

“You are gonna sit here for the next hour and a half, till the pozole is ready, put on a movie or something, and just try and relax. And I am gonna sit beside you, once I get changed out of these sweaty ass clothes,” he says, standing back up straight. “I’ll be two minutes, angel!” He calls out, hurrying away from you towards his bedroom.

You smile to yourself as you grab the remote to the TV and try your best to curl up under the blanket. It’s amusing, how quickly things can change. An hour ago, you were in the club with Joaquin, who was having the time of his life, and now here you are, curled up on his couch in his clothes. Your eyes drift down to your wrist, where a bruise is already starting to form, and you wince. That’s going to be painful when it fully forms.

Joaquin comes back out a few minutes later, wearing a similar pair of sweatpants and a muscle tank that causes you to focus on his biceps for much too long. You barely even notice that he’s carrying something in one of his hands. 

“Uh, what’s that?” You ask, motioning to the tube.

“It’s cream that’s meant to help bruises,” he says, lowering himself down onto the couch beside you. “I forgot I had it but I bought it for myself not long after I became Falcon. Will you let me put it on you?” 

You nod, letting him take your arm in his gentle grip. He squeezes some of the cream onto your wrist and gently massages it in. It hurts already, even with just the slightest bit of pressure, but you try your best to ignore it and focus on the look of concentration on Joaquin’s face. He looks up at you afterwards, catching you staring. 

“See something you like, angel?”

You look away, a little flustered, and pull your wrist out of his grip. “Thank you.”

He grins and stands up, heading back towards the bathroom to put the tube away and wash the cream off of his hands. He knew it might not be the right time to be teasing with you, but he had to be – this was the Joaquin you knew, and he could tell that right now, the last thing you wanted was for him to treat you like you were something breakable, like what had happened at the bar was something you couldn’t move past. 

“All right, what are we watching?” He says as he walks back to the couch, climbing over the back of it and settling down next to you, resting his arms up on the back of the couch and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “You pick somethin’ good?”

You surprise him by passing him the remote. “You choose. I can’t find anything.”

He almost freezes solid when he feels your head lean down on his shoulder. He lets his arm fall around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest so you can rest comfortably. 

“What if I pick something you don’t like?” He asks, trying his hardest not to stare at the top of your head and hope to hell you can’t hear how fast his heart is beating, even though you’re laying on the opposite side of his chest.

“Nah, you won’t,” you say. “I like everything you like.”

Joaquin clears his throat and huffs a laugh. “Yeah, what if I put on The Conjuring or something?” 

“You wouldn’t,” you mutter, knowing him well enough to know he’s joking.

“What if I’m being serious, angel? What if all I want is to put on a scary movie so you get all frightened and have no choice but to cuddle up to me in search of safety?” He grins. 

“Joaquin, I’m already cuddled up to you.”

He pauses. “Okay, well that’s true.”

“Just pick a movie, Joaquin.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You’re thirty minutes into the movie by the time you speak again. Joaquin is invested in the story but the second you speak, his entire attention is on you. 

“Thank you for saving me tonight, Joaquin,” your voice is quiet.

Joaquin gently rubs your shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner. You don’t have to thank me for anything, angel. You know that, right? I should’ve noticed and come after you as soon as you left. Katy should’ve never let you go to the bathroom alone either.”

He can’t help the bitterness in his tone. 

“I didn’t meant to ruin your night, Joaquin,” you mutter, seemingly ignoring everything that he’d just said to you. 

Joaquin is quick to sit up straight, making you move from your spot on his chest. You look at him, eyebrows furrowed at his sudden movement. He gently cups your face in his hands. 

“Ruin my night? Angel, you did not ruin my night. Did you not hear anything I just said? In fact, you probably made my night even better than it already was. I mean, c’mon, pozole and being curled up on the couch watching a movie with you is a hell of a lot better than being out in that club without you,” Joaquin admits, his honesty getting the better of him. 

You frown a little, eyes clouding with tears. Joaquin is quick to wipe one from your cheek after it falls. His heart hurts at the sight of the tears in your eyes. 

“C’mere,” he says, pulling you into his chest again, wrapping his arms around you and letting you cry into his chest. Your arms wrap around him, gripping the material of his shirt. One of his hands rubs up and down on your back in an attempt to relax you. “I always ask you to come out with us cause I enjoy it more when you’re there. I thought you knew that. And I know the clubs aren’t your scene, but I figured you didn’t hate them that much if you said yes to me every now and then. I promise I won’t ask you again, angel. Especially after what that prick did tonight. I almost knocked his jaw in then and there.”

He smiles as he hears something that sounds like a sob like laugh come from you. 

“If I ever see him again, I can’t promise I won’t break his wrist, believe me.”

“No, you won’t,” you mutter, pulling away from his hug. 

His hands immediately move to your face again, clearing the tears off of your cheeks. 

“Maybe I will,” he shrugs.

“You’re too much of a sweetheart for that, Joaquin Torres. I mean… look at everything you’ve done for me tonight. You telling me you’re not a soft hearted person?” You ask.

Joaquin smiles to himself. “Angel, I’m just soft hearted for you,” he confesses. “Now, I’m gonna quickly go check on this pozole okay?” He stands up from the couch, stretching his legs and padding over towards the kitchen – mostly just to make it so you don’t feel obligated to say anything in return. 

He’s standing in front of the stove, stirring the pozole with a wooden spoon, when he feels your arms snake around him from behind, surprising him with a back hug. “Uhhh, what’s happening right now?” He asks, pausing his stirring.

“Thank you,” is all you offer in answer.

“Angel, what’s going on?”

You remove your arms from around him so he can turn around and face you again. He’s about to ask you what you’re thinking when you lean up and press your lips to his cheek before bounding back over to the couch without another word. Joaquin stands, staring after you in shock. He feels like his cheek has been burned – in a good way, if that’s even possible.

“Hurry up and finish stirring that pozole, pretty boy!” You call out from your spot on the couch. “I wanna finish watching this movie and my pillow has gone missing.” 

Joaquin lets out a small laugh, gives the pozole another small stir and starts walking back over to you. “I suppose I’m the pillow?” He asks, shaking his head. “I’m comin’, angel. I’m comin’.” 

[ratsoupee]

Accepting isolation, craving belonging

[mimimar]

(open pages for better image quality)

the moment I heard elphaba's delivery of "there's a girl i know..." in i'm not that girl i knew i had to draw this comic, i strongly recommend listening to it while you read for the full experience!

this comic is a companion to this piece (which was inspired by glinda's delivery of the same line in the i'm not that girl reprise).

pages 1-4 are from elphie's pov, pages 5-8 are from glinda's.

prints of individual pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

flower meanings in order of appearance:

[ariaste]

So I was nodding along almost the whole way through, I was saying "Yeah!" and "Oof, I feel that, I can relate," until I got to:

"be forceful, if you have to, and learn to distinguish real discomfort from the terrified reflex of self-denial" and "you must insist upon her [...] because she may still not yet know how".

And... yeah, no, kinda lost me there. Now, don't get me wrong! It is perfectly valid if you're doing those things essentially as kink (or not-really-kink-but-kinda-uses-the-same-tools-and-skillset) -- that is, you and your beloved have sat down and talked about her discomfort and her difficulties, and the difference between actual discomfort and cognitive dissonance at the concept of having nice things for herself, and how SHE wants you to recognize the distinction (and what signals SHE can give to provide cues in cases of ambiguity), and she's given you express permission to do the Being Forceful thing in pursuit of doing nice things for her and insisting or persuading her into accepting them -- AND y'all have talked about how she can communicate effectively when your insistence and persuasion isn't just not landing right for some reason or when it's actually starting to cross a line. If you've done all that: great, godspeed, I love your love. Make her accept all the compliments and adoration and the nice things she deserves! Your crusade to love her properly is righteous and just!

However. The vast majority of us across the spectrum of transness have experienced people crossing our boundaries, infantilizing and condescending to us, assuming that they know better than us about what we want, and ignoring our quiet, hesitant attempts to push back in small ways as we try to establish a foothold and figure out how much space we're allowed to take up. So... idk, putting "be forceful" and "insist because she may not yet know how" right next to solid, sound advice for all situations like "be patient, be generous" as if they are equivalent in meaning and impact and importance just... rubs me the wrong way. I think OP is absolutely speaking coming from a place of love and positivity, but... this needs caveats.

Because man-oh-man I have personally experienced this kind of thing from both sides: Just because you know that something is going to be good for someone doesn't mean they're going to appreciate having it forced on them. Just because you're absolutely sure that someone will be delighted by something doesn't mean that you're always going to be right.

Suppose the nice thing that someone (let's call them Tye) is doing for their partner (let's call her Mia) is... taking her out to her favorite Italian restaurant. Suppose Tye does this every week without fail, and they feel great about it because Mia loves this restaurant and she deserves to be treated like a princess. But what happens if one week she's bored of it, or not in the mood for Italian food? What happens if she says, "Hey, maybe we don't have to go today... I don't really need all this, what if we just eat toast and eggs--" and Tye says, "NO NO. NO, I LOVE YOU AND WE'RE GOING! YOU DESERVE IT!!!" Y'know what I'm saying??? That's not actually about loving Mia anymore, that's more about Tye getting off on their own heroism. And Mia is once again having to shut up and make herself small.

If the goal is to love your person and give her space to grow confident enough to accept and embrace all the love and wonderful things she deserves, the strategy of forcefulness and insistence COULD actually end up being counter-intuitively DISempowering if it is not explicitly consensual: It is removing opportunities for her to practice communicating her own needs, choosing happiness, and valuing herself where other people can see. It is reinforcing the lesson she has already learned from the rest of society, which is that her self-knowledge and boundaries are inferior to the wants and goals of the people around her.

Having a partner who is so passionate about loving us that they INSIST on giving us the things we secretly long for even when we're scared and shy of accepting them ourselves (and that they always telepathically know exactly what is going to be the perfect thing even before we know it ourselves, and they never once make a mistake in reading our mood when we come home tired from work, and they're always able to seamlessly adjust their plans to accommodate our whim)... It is a lovely fantasy. I will not deny that it is a very lovely fantasy and that I too would like to go to there. That sounds FANTASTIC.

But at the end of the day you are loving an adult human being and "no means no" must remain true even if you think you perceive a glint of longing in her eye (unless modified rules of consent have been established and ratified between you prior to this). Absolutely be patient, be generous, be loving, be attentive and proactive. But also you also gotta be okay with backing the hell off sometimes. You gotta be humble enough to acknowledge that sometimes you might be projecting your own past self's longings, rather than looking at the person in front of you with clear eyes. Create a space where it's safe for her to come out of her protective shell instead of dragging her out of it before she's ready. Encourage her to set her own boundaries, and express appreciation when she does so, especially when the boundaries are ones you disagree with or are personally inconvenienced by.

You cannot force a person to move faster along their journey of loving themself. Having someone insist on giving you love (and I'm once again speaking from experience here, as someone who has been on both sides) can sometimes end up making the beloved feel more guilty, more self-conscious, and more aware of their own "failures" and "deficiencies". To the person trying to do that style of love, it probably IS purely in good faith, but to the person receiving it, it can sometimes come across as a constant implicit reminder of, "I'm not doing it right, I'm still not doing it right, and everyone can tell. No matter how hard I try I still can't do it right, I hate myself even more now."

OP absolutely hit the nail on the head with everything about, "I had to stop [negative self-thoughts], I had to start [taking care of myself], I had to learn [those skills], but more than that I had to learn to ask[...]. it was agony, but courage is a muscle you can train." 100% cosigned. That is exactly it -- training muscles. You can be someone's spotter and cheerleader, but you can't lift the weights for them, and forcing them to lift more than they're ready for often hurts more than it helps. Communicate! Establish a culture of consent even outside the bedroom! And continue to be patient even when it turns out that progress is not a straight line without any stumbles!

so many of the transfems i know spent their time pre-transition performing a kind of lifelong exercise in self-deprivation, the goal of which was to find out exactly how little a person needed to live. they starved themselves, dressed carelessly, shunned friends, and hollowed themselves out so as not to be burdens on anyone but themselves.

i see it now, too, in the girls around me. i'll ask if they want care – a home-cooked meal, relaxed company, sex without the expectation of reciprocation – and they say no, no, thank you, i don't need it; what would you like, what do you want, because in their head they're still doing that awful calculus, still training themselves to disappear in the eyes of the people around them.

i don't think i'd have died without transition – not in the conventional sense, at least – but to take that leap, i had to stop thinking of myself as a human experiment in fuel-efficient living and start nurturing the anemic, atrophied flame of desire in my heart. i had to learn to eat well, to exercise, to style myself beautiful, but harder than that, i had to learn to ask the people around me to work on my behalf in order to enrich my life and give me the things i wanted.

and i did it; i learned. and it was agony, but courage is a muscle you can train, and every day i get better at accepting gifts with the hungry gratitude i never learned in my years and years as a sad, scared, lonely boy.

so be patient with the trans girls in your life. better than that: be proactive, attentive, generous; be forceful, if you have to, and learn to distinguish real discomfort from the terrified reflex of self-denial that so many of us once learned to rely on.

and if you are so lucky as to love a trans girl, you must insist upon her. you must insist upon her happiness, her comfort, her pleasure, and her rest, because she may still not yet know how to make those demands for herself. if you can devote any amount of energy to becoming an engine that nurtures the flame of even a single tgirl then there is a place for you in trans heaven, which as far as i'm concerned is the only one worth going to

[gideonisms]

I LOVE being alive so I can be mediocre at SO many different hobbies

[megatronusprimedecal]

"Always got your back." "No matter what."

Transformers One (2024)

[aerequets]

(part 1)

(short comic) (you can otherwise search 'spy x pta' on my profile)

MY GOODNESS. it's been a hot minute since i posted the first part and i guess i just couldn't SHUT UP because this is FOURTEEN PAGES LONG. FOURTEEN. you can even see some pages where the linework is slightly different because i drew it like 6-ish weeks ago, that's how long this has been cooking. drawing in general has been hard lately because of time constraints, BUT i am so happy i finished this. this is like my fav project even tho it isnt as popular, but who cares!!!!! POPULAR IN MY HEART

[akanemnon]

We didn't even get an answer, and we never will (at least it's not determination)

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