#and not even smutty

[achilles-rage]

Cherry

summary: after putting out a small kitchen fire at a bar, the bar owner offers buck a night of fun. when presented with his girls, he chooses you.

word count: 4.5k (oops)

a/n: this idea came to me in a dream after i read @spidermans-l-o-v-e-r ‘s glory hole fic, and i wrote this in one sitting. i have no idea what came over me but i was feral for this idea. thank you for posting your fic, it was delicious and i loved it<33 i had no intention of posting something today because i’ve already posted 2 days in a row and have more coming the next 2 days, but i felt the need to share this immediately after i finished. enjoy<3

warnings: smut, big titty reader (self indulgent, sue me<3), mentions of abuse (nothing graphic), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ Only!

Buck has absolutely no idea how he got here; how he got messed up in all of this. He’s standing in the large back room of an old bar in downtown LA, with ten women presented in front of him. His choice.

Earlier in the week, his team responded to a call here. When they finally put out the small fire in the kitchen, the owner had told him to come back later in the week for free drinks and a good time, and who is he to turn down free drinks?

He wasn’t expecting this, though; ten of the owner’s “girls” standing in a line in front of him. “Free for the night,” the owner had said.

His eyes had immediately been drawn to you when you walked in with the rest of the line. You were much different than the rest of the girls. While the rest had their heads up, giving him bright, flirty smiles, your face remained angled towards the floor. When they all stopped and faced him, you kept your head down; he could hardly even see your face.

Even so, he was drawn to your plush figure.

While the rest of the girls were slimmer, showing off lots of skin, you had opted for a pink long sleeve shirt. You were wearing a black miniskirt, and some god awful heels almost identical to the rest of the girls that the owner of the bar had told Buck “really shows them off,” and a pink long sleeve shirt low-cut enough that Buck could see your large tits practically spilling out of your bra.

He almost feels bad standing here. He’s never done anything like this before, but who is he to turn down a warm cunt for the night?

“So, who will it be?” the owner asks, a smirk on his face as he watches Buck taking in all his girls.

Buck begins to walk towards the girls, hands behind his back as his eyes travel the length of the line up. Then, he stops in front of you, but once again, you keep your head down. Surely he wants one of the girls beside you.

You’re surprised when he uses a finger to gently raise your gaze up to his, and your knees almost buckle. It’s the softest anyone’s touched you in months.

“You wanna come with me, sweetheart?” he asks you in a soft voice, and you swallow quickly before nodding your head. He’s gorgeous.

“Yes.”

He grins, then takes your hand and pulls you back towards where he was previously standing beside the owner of the bar. He gives him a smile while you stand almost behind him, eyes trained on his broad shoulders and muscular back.

“You sure you want that one?” the owner says, and you blink slowly, trying to fight back tears threatening to spill as you force your eyes down to the floor again. He’s always treated you like this, but you don’t have any other choice but to stay.

“Positive.” Buck replies smugly, fighting the urge to glare at the man’s condescending tone. He looks over his shoulder at you, and all he sees is a sweet little thing that he’s not sure he’s going to want to let go at the end of the night. How could the other man see anything different?

With that, the owner of the bar waves a hand, and the rest of the girls file out and go back out to the main area of the bar to pick up men, and Buck leads you out of the bar with his hand on the small of your back.

“Are you okay?” he asks once you’re out on the street and walking towards his car parked down the street. You furrow your brows, lifting your head to meet his gaze.

“What do you mean?” He tilts his head, raising a brow before his eyes move down to your feet. You’re almost limping in the heels you’re wearing, but they’re what you have to wear, so you shake your head quickly.

“Oh, I’m fine. Part of the uniform.” you try to joke, but he isn’t having it. It almost pains him to see you in pain. In one swift movement, he pulls you towards him and lifts you into his arms, one arm under your legs and the other behind your back. You squeal, and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your throat. He looks strong, sure, but you didn’t think he'd actually be able to lift you. You didn’t think he’d actually do it, either. It’s not like he has to be nice to you.

Once you’re in the car, he drives you to a hotel not too far from the bar. He doesn’t want to scare you by taking you to his house; as much as he wants to see you sprawled out on his bed, so he opts for the nicest hotel close to the bar.

Your eyes widen in surprise when you see the hotel he’s chosen. You’re not used to anything like this. You’re used to dingy motels, or the bathroom in the bar, or if you’re lucky, the backseat of a nice car. But never this.

He keeps an arm around your waist as he pays for the room, and he kisses the back of your hand when he grabs it to lead you up to the 3rd floor, keeping your hand firmly in his the whole way up.

When you get to the room and the door is firmly closed behind you, Buck steps further into the room, setting the key card, his wallet, and his keys on the dresser. You follow behind him slowly, then in one swift movement, lift your shirt over your head. You know what you’re here for, as much as his sweet actions make butterflies swarm your tummy.

His eyes widen when he turns back to you, his eyes darting down to steal a quick glance at your large tits practically teasing him in your see through lace bra. He closes the distance between you, grabbing your hands as you let go of your shirt and let it fall to the ground.

“Hey, no, wait. If it’s okay, I wanna talk first. Haven’t really done this before.” he tells you, his admission coming out a little softer than the beginning of his sentence. He feels a little weird about what he’s walked himself into, and he wants to know more about you before splitting you open on his cock.

“Sorry.” you tell him sheepishly. You bite your lip as you watch him shake his head.

“Don’t apologize, baby. Here, let’s get you out of those shoes first, yeah?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he gets down on one knee, kneeling in front of you and placing his hand on the back of your calf to urge you to raise your leg. You hold one of his shoulders as you lift one foot off the grounf, feeling your whole body heat up as you watch him take one shoe off, and then the other.

You let out a sigh when your feet hit the soft carpet, thankful to finally be out of those damn shoes. He smiles when he stands up, noticing that you’ve already relaxed a little more.

“What’s your name?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper. You give him a sheepish smile, shrugging as your eyes move down to your chest.

“He calls me Cherry.” you murmur when you look back up at him, a hint of a frown on your pretty lips. He tilts his head to the side, and he almost laughs at the name, knowing exactly where it came from.

His eyes glance back down at your heavy tits, getting a better look now that he’s standing directly in front of you. He can see the beginning of a cherry tattoo beneath your bra, right in the valley of your breasts, and he sighs. From the way the owner of the bar was treating you earlier, he’s half convinced that he’s made you get that tattoo, and you’re not very happy about the nickname.

“What’s your real name?” he asks softly, eyes darting back up to meet yours. His hand moves to your cheek, caressing it gently, and you chew the inside of your cheek nervously as you hesitate. No names. That was one of the first rules he had given you. But even so, your name is on the tip of your tongue, threatening to fall from your lips.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to tell me, it just doesn’t seem like you like that nickname very much.” he urges you gently. His eyes search yours as you stay quiet for a moment, and then, you tell him. Your voice is barely audible, but he heard you loud and clear, and a smile breaks onto his face.

He repeats it, and you nod, a small smile forming on your face.

With the way he’s looking at you, you can’t help but feel admired, and beautiful. That’s why you’re not surprised when the next words that tumble from your mouth are “kiss me, please.”

He smirks before he brings your lips to his, a hand cupping your jaw as he tilts your head up into the kiss and the other on your plush hip. His thumb gently moves across your hip as he kisses you gently, and while his grip is firm on your jaw, his kiss is soft and tender, which makes your head spin.

As his tongue pushes past your lips and begins to explore your mouth, you kiss him harder, teeth clicking together and breathing becoming heavy as both of your hands move to his cheeks. When one of his hands slides down to your ass and squeezes, it’s like a switch flips, and you’re quick to flip him around and walk him back towards the bed.

You break the kiss as you push him to sit on the edge of the bed, and then you kneel in front of him, hands going to his pants as you keep your eyes on his. Another rule: make sure the customer is pleased. When you’re at a motel and it’s clear he’s in no rush, use your mouth first, and then let him fuck you.

You’re surprised when his hands come out to stop you from undoing his belt, and your eyes are wide as you look up at his face.

“Whoa, wait a minute. What are you doing?” he asks, and you furrow your brows. He’s surprised by your sudden switch up, and while his cock twitches at the thought of your mouth around him, he sees the way your face changed. He notices the way your eyes almost become glossed over and unfocused, almost as if you’re on autopilot, like this is merely a job for you. Of course, he knows it is, but he doesn’t want you to wrap your lips around his cock unless you actually want to.

“Isn’t this what you want?” you ask, a little unsure. You’re feeling a little self conscious now. You’ve never had a man turn something like this down, and your insecurities from earlier about why he would choose you enter your mind again.

“Honestly, all I want right now is to taste you.” he tells you earnestly, and you look down, trying to hide the smile on your face. “But first, I want to ask you a question.”

You look back up at him, nodding slowly. He can see the insecurities inside of you, they’re practically written across your face. It’s the same look you had back at the bar.

“How long have you been doing this?” he asks. He hopes he hasn’t crossed a line, but with the way you don’t look away, he’s sure he hasn’t. Of course the answer doesn’t really matter to him, he’s just curious.

“A few weeks.” you reply with a shrug. He smiles, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“And how many times has someone picked one of the other girls over you?” He can’t fathom someone picking another girl over the soft, sweet thing kneeling in front of him. He had his pick, for Christ sake; all of the girls looked eager to leave with him, and he still picked you.

“A couple.” you admit sheepishly, feeling embarrassed at your admission. It’s happened more than a couple times, but you don’t want to admit that to him. Most of the time, it seems like the men want one of the more experienced girls, or one that’s easier to throw around.

“Can’t imagine why. You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” he murmurs, eyes studying your face as a smile erupts on your face. “Can I taste you now? Please?”

You nod, and that’s all it takes for Buck to stand up, help you to your feet and then push you onto the bed, in the same position you just had him in.

He yanks your skirt and panties down in one go as you lift your hips off the bed, and then he puts a large hand over your soft tummy, pushing you to lay back.

He spreads your legs enough for his broad shoulders to fit between, and then he begins placing feather-light kisses to your inner thighs as his arms loop around your legs to hold you in place.

You watch him with a heaving chest as his lips make their way to your dripping core, sitting up on your elbows to ensure you have a view of him between your thick thighs.

As soon as he makes eye contact with you, he gives you a smirk, then dives into your cunt, licking and sucking greedily as he lets out a low groan.

“Taste so sweet, baby. Like heaven.” he moans against your folds, although you can barely hear him. You fall back down onto your back, your hands gripping the sheets as his tongue darts in and out of you slowly, his nose nudging at your clit deliciously with each movement.

He grunts as he notices your hands beside you, and he unhooks one arm from your thigh to grab your wrist, moving your hand to the back of his head. You whimper softly as your fingers weave through his hair, but you don’t pull it; you’re not sure what exactly he wants.

His arms loops back around your thigh again, keeping his face pressed as close to you as possible as he switches between suctioning to your clit and drawing lazy circles around it with his tongue. When he notices that your hand is merely placed on his head, however, he grunts again, unlooking his arm from around you and diving two fingers into your dripping cunt. You moan loudly as he curls his fingers against that spot inside of you, you back almost lifting off the bed as you squirm. Your grip tightens on his hair as he sucks on your clit at the same time, and when he lets out a low moan, you realize that he likes when you pull his hair.

You pull his hair a little harder, and you can feel the pit in your belly growing bigger as you get closer and closer to the edge.

In a few moments, you’re falling apart against him, whimpering loudly as he continues his movements, working you through your orgasm. When he finally pulls away, he straightens up, beaming at you as you raise back up onto your elbows, chest heaving.

“So good for me, sweetheart.” he purrs, and you watch him as he stands up, towering over you. “You think you can take my cock now?”

You nod quickly, and he smirks as his hands move down to his belt. You notice the tent in his pants as he undoes his belt, and then his jeans, and your eyes widen at the size of him as he pulls his pants and boxers down.

Your mouth is watering as he steps out of his pants and then lifts his shirt over his head, and he feels his ego soar as he takes in your eager expression.

He wastes no time crawling on top of you, letting you move up the bed to rest your head on the pillow as he goes. He kneels between your legs as he straightens up, now that you’re where he wants you, and grabs your hands to make you sit up. Once you do, one of his hands moves to the back of your bra and unhooks it easily. He slides the straps down your shoulders and moans when your heavy tits bounce slightly, finally free from your bra.

“If I didn’t want you so bad right now, I’d fuck those pretty tits first.” he purrs. You whimper softly as you bite your lip, looking up at him with sparkling eyes.

“Please.” you whisper, and he lowers himself back onto you, holding himself up with his hands on either side of your head as he begins to grind against you.

“Please, what? Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” he tells you, and you trail your hands down his chest, desperate to feel him.

“Fuck me. Please.” He smirks, giving you a chaste kiss before he reaches down to grab his cock. He looks down as he lines himself up with your entrance, then slowly pushes past your folds, groaning as he feels your greedy cunt stretch around him.

“God, baby. So tight.” he murmurs into your ear, his face beside yours and his lips grazing your neck. You whimper as he stretches you out, feeling slightly overwhelmed as he keeps bullying himself further into your sopping cunt, inch by inch.

Once he’s buried himself to the hilt, he moves his hips back and then snaps them back against yours, testing. When you throw your head back in pure ecstasy, he repeats his actions, thrusting into you eagerly as he kisses your neck. You keep a hand on the back of his neck as he fucks you, fingers finding the hair on the back of his head and pulling it gently.

He whispers sweet praises as his lips continue down from your neck to your collarbone, and then to your tits. He kisses around one breast, then brings your nipple into his mouth, using one of his hands to roughly squeeze and tug on your other breast.

“Such gorgeous tits, baby. Beautiful girl.” he whispers against your skin, and your back arches off the bed at all the attention he’s giving your body.

His thrusts are strong, and when he uses one of his legs to hike your leg up to his waist, you whimper loudly, your fingers tugging on his hair as he hits the spot that makes you see stars.

“How many times you say they’ve picked another girl?” he asks in a low voice, and in your bliss, you barely even register what he’s asking.

“A lot.” you answer truthfully, too cock drunk to lie.

“God, they’re missing out. Such a sweet little pussy. And all mine, isn’t that right?” he asks, lifting his head and looking down to see that you’re struggling to keep your eyes open.

“Yes.” is all you can get out, but that’s all he wants to hear. He continues with his rough thrusts, and after a couple more, he’s twitching inside of you, balls tightening as he teeters on the edge.

“You gonna cum with me, pretty girl? Cum on my cock?” he asks, and you nod as your hands move to his shoulders. You can feel your high quickly approaching, and your nails dig into his shoulders when his fingers start to rub circles over your clit, sloppy and eager.

He feels you clench around him, and he groans, having to close his eyes before he cums too soon.

“Cum for me, baby.” With these words, you’re squeezing your eyes shut as your body goes tense. He tuts, bringing his hand away from your clit and tapping your face lightly, urging you to open your eyes.

When you finally do, he cums hard, hot white release filling you up and threatening to leak out of your pulsing cunt.

You look up at him as he lets go, watching his face contorting in pleasure, and you can’t help the moan that escapes your mouth. He practically collapses on you as you both try to catch your breath, and he presses soft kisses to your neck and chest as you both come down from your high. A few minutes later, he pulls out with a groan, watching your mixed releases drip down your thighs and onto the clean sheets.

He gets up and goes to the bathroom, then comes back with a damp cloth, cleaning up what’s dripped out of you and onto the bed. He throws it to the side, then lays beside you, urging you to lay your head on his chest. For a minute, you both forget the situation, too blissed out to do anything but revel in each other’s company.

“What’s your name?” you ask, your mind finally coming back into focus. Usually, you couldn’t care less about the man’s name, but now, you need to know.

“Evan. Buckley. Buck.” he says slowly, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You hum, nodding against his chest, but don’t say anything else. You’re perfectly content with laying her with Buck for as long as he’ll let you. You’re afraid that if you disturb the silence, he’ll tell you it’s time to go.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asks after a minute of silence, and you nod.

“How did you get into this?” You shrug, thinking for a moment. You’re not sure you should tell him.

Another rule: no personal details shared.

Even with his rules echoing through your mind, you feel like you have to tell him. He’s been so sweet, and you don’t think you can hold it in any longer. You haven’t told anyone else this.

“He’s my boyfriend. The owner. Thought he loved me, and I asked him for money to help pay rent because I lost my job. He gave it to me, but when I couldn’t pay him back quick enough, he told me to pay him back like this.” you tell him softly. His body tenses at your words. What the hell kind of boyfriend would make you do something like this to pay him back? He wants to storm back into that bar and beat him to a bloody pulp, but he knows that’s not exactly a good idea.

“How much?” he asks you softly, trying to keep his voice calm as he rubs your back gently.

“$800.” He scoffs at your words. $800 and he’s making you do this? You’ve been working a couple weeks; that’s what you said, and he can’t believe that you haven’t made him that money back yet.

“You’ve been working for weeks, and he still doesn’t have that money?” you sigh again, shrugging.

“There’s a place near the bar where he makes me live with some of the other girls. He takes the money I make and uses it for that too, so when I do make money, almost all of it goes to that.” You’re sure you’d be better off if you were more outgoing; more willing to go up to men in the bar rather than letting them come to you. You’d get much more money, probably. You’re much too shy to do that though, and you’re still not used to what you do.

He wants more than anything to get you out of this situation. He can tell that you’re less than happy about it, but he doesn’t know what to do. Then, an idea comes to him, and he speaks in a hopeful tone.

“Can I see you again?” he asks, and you smile, raising your head off his chest and looking up at him as you nod.

“Of course.” you reply, and he grins, leaning down to kiss you deeply.

You both fall asleep not long after that, and in the morning, he drives you back to the bar, but not before he gets your number.

Your arrangement goes on for months. You meet him once a week, sometimes twice, and after a month, you let him take you to his apartment. He’s easy to trust; and you know what he does for a living, so you don’t feel nervous at all when he pulls you into his apartment and pins you to the door, kissing down your neck.

He gives you money after each time too, far more than what he’s meant to pay you, but he insists. You try to argue, try to tell him that you can’t charge him anything, not when there’s feelings involved, but he doesn’t want to hear it.

He figures if he can give you enough money to pay back the $800 plus your current housing, you’d be able to leave and be with him, for real, sooner rather than later.

He’s surprised when there’s a knock on his door late one night, and his eyes widen when he sees you, teary eyed and a cut across your cheek.

“He won’t let me leave.” you whisper, and he’s quick to pull you into the safety of his apartment. He pulls you into a hug, shushing you as you cry into his chest. His body is tense as he thinks about your boyfriend, who he has just learned is now your ex as you babble into his chest about what happened, but he’s more focused on you.

He pulls you to the couch, and he listens as you restart your story, sniffling softly here and there and finally calming down now that you know you’re safe.

He listens to you tell him that you confronted him, asking him how much you still owe him, and about how he laughed in your face. He listens as you tell him that your ex boyfriend told you that your debt has been paid, but you’ve become good at what you do, and you bring in too much money for him to let go of you.

He clenches his fists as you tell him that when you tried to argue, he tried to force you into submission; pushing you against a wall and slapping you, resulting in the cut on your cheek.

He vows to protect you, that you’re safe with him now. He brings you up to bed, undressing you gingerly and pulling you against him as you both lay in bed. He kisses the back of your neck as you fall asleep, your back pressed tightly against his chest.

You’re never going back there again, he’ll make sure of it. He’ll find out where your things are, and go pick them up when your ex isn’t there, and you’ll stay with him from now on. You’re already his anyway, pretty much, so you’re his to protect. He’ll help you land on your feet, and when you’re ready, he’ll let you find your own place, but he hopes to anyone that will listen that you’ll stay with him. Forever.

the prequel

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[disgracefulthings]

MDZS fix-it AU where Shang Qinghua saves Wei Wuxian and the Wens from the burial mounds, for a price...

Shang Qinghua, handing WWX a contract: Just sign here and I will provide food and shelter for you and your people

Wei Wuxian: What's the catch. No one does anything for free

Shang Qinghua: I bring up what I'm owed in the third paragraph

Wei Wuxian, reading out loud: ...'Shang Qinghua, and only Shang Qinghua, has the right to write about Wei Wuxian's love life in any manner he sees fit.' Why would you want this?

Shang Qinghua: Look, are you going to sign it or what?

[ellesthots]

repentance

bruce wayne x fem!reader

nsfw • drabble

Bruce dipped under your waistband. “Poor baby,” he purred, fingers drenched. He shifted his weight on top of you, his palm resting on the side of your neck to tilt it back. Slow open-mouthed kisses wet your skin, making you shiver.

Your hips moved in concert with his fingers as they slipped inside. You felt his grin behind your ear when you gasped. “If I’d known you were so needy,” his hand trailed from your neck to undo his belt with practiced ease. “I would’ve skipped the meeting.”

His lips found yours with a low, repentant moan. “Let me apologize.”

a/n: I got bored and thought hey what if Bruce was gone at meetings all day and you were just desperately horny and then five minutes later I had this <3

[arminsumi]

tutor!suguru being a flirt

GETO すぐる

note : a dumb calc daydream lol. i've been studying all night like a slut 🙄

warnings : 🔞 flirting/suggestive, not proofread written straight from the back of my mind lol but as kerouac said "youre a genius all the time" 🫡 hehe

tutor!suguru would be so smooth and sultry, but he'd also try hard to maintain a professionalism. i mean... he could sit there and flirt for a whole hour, but he genuinely wants to help you get better at whatever subject you're taking.

he's the mysterious quiet student type, you know, the one everyone is fascinated by. got that charm. that allure. that magnetism.

and those traits are very apparent when he sits next to you and watches you scratch your pen across a notebook.

"did i do it right?" you ask unsurely.

"yes, that's right..." he has a natural seduction in his tone, "trust your mind more."

he praises you sparingly, making sure each praise is laced with lusty undertones. he's trying to hint to you heyheyhey... i'm interested in you.

and tutor!suguru has such smooth dirty jokes that slip by you when you're so caught up in a textbook; "i'll tutor you in bed if you want."

"m'kay..." you hum happily, deep in the focused zone, then you snap with realization, "wait, what?!"

"haha, nothing." he chuckles at you, habitually hiding his smile behind his hand. "i didn't say anything. keep studying. focus."

"okay..." you return to studying.

he leans in close and watches you answer each question. glances at your face in his peripherals.

leans closer. closer. closer. and murmurs; "you're doing so good for me... keep going."

he chuckles again, watching your eyes widen in reaction to his obvious flirting. "sorry... sorry, haha... i'll shut up now."

© arminsumi

[fbfh]

Do you still write for Dave Lizewski? I loved what you've written for him so far!

FUCK yes I do. Listen there's a lot I could say about Dave, but one thing that is NEVER addressed is how deeply rooted and repressed his mommy issues are. I'm sorry, your mom dies in front of you and you're just... not affected by it??? bullshit!!!!!!! Dave CRAVES a soft gentle touch, a divine feminine aura. Even if you're not a girl, if you just take care of him gently and look at him with a soft fondness he will fold SO fast. and yes having a nice rack (while not necessary) will help with this a lot. and by a nice rack I mean literally just having anything on your chest. flat tits, huge tits, lopsided tits, fake tits, real tits, literally ANYTHING. even if your tits are practically nonexistent he WILL still be trying to grope and suck on them. and he WILL succeed. nothing in this world can stop this boy from drooling over you.

after a particularly long night full of stopping some muggers, making sure the town drunk doesn't fight anyone, and helping some college girls get home safe, he shows up at your place, a little bumped and bruised but not majorly injured. you greet him with this soft, understanding smile and bring him up to your bathroom. It's all clean and soapy and smells like you, and he immediately starts to relax. you help him take off his suit and he tries not to get hard from the feeling of your warm hands getting him out of his suit and exposing his skin to the cool air. you start inspecting him to see how bad he's hurt - because of all his nerve damage he doesn't always notice how bad his injuries are.

you smooth his hair and praise him, listen to him talk about his night patrolling the neighborhood. worry flashes across across your face as you see the scratches all over his face and arms.

"Oh, uh, Mrs. Landsberg's cat got stuck..." He trails off sheepishly while you smile and put disinfectant on his nicks and scrapes.

"Look at you, helping little old ladies and rescuing cats from trees." you coo playfully.

"Well, she got stuck in the attic crawl space, but..." he shrugs with another blush, feeling all proud and sheepish from your praise.

"Close enough."

you press a kiss to his nose.

"now all you need is a job at the daily planet."

Dave was so sore and tired after tonight that he felt like he'd need days to recover. but after 10 minutes with you, you already have him laughing and feeling like himself again. Dave doesn't know what he did to luck out and have you in his life, but he thinks about you all the time. If he's not physically with you (or texting you or calling you or snapping you or lurking on your social media accounts or reading through your old texts or looking through the folder of pictures and videos he has of you saved in his phone or-) he's thinking about you all the time. he even dreams about you every night. no matter how much time he spends with you, he always wants more. Dave is definitely in the sex isn't enough I need to crawl inside your skin club.

[auspicioustidings]

I am sure I must have yapped about this before but consider alpha Ghost who despises omegas. Roba was an omega and he used every bit of his biology against Ghost to try and break him. He just cannot be around omegas now, he hates it when any of his pack even smells like one from being out and about.

It means their pack beta Gaz gets treated like their omega to an extent. It's not like he hates it, it's nice that they want to spoil him, but he also wants to look after someone y'know? Everyone thought he'd present as an alpha when he was growing up and he still feels the instinct to protect those weaker than him. It maybe gets to him a little that he feels like an alpha, he is a beta and he gets treated like an omega.

He does not expect to present late. He certainly does not expect an omega scent match to be the thing that triggers it. You're everything he has ever wanted and he knows he will break Ghost's heart if he brings you home. So he doesn't.

You are rejected by your scent match and it hurts. You didn't realise how awful it would be, how much it would wreak havoc on your system. Alphas can reject a scent match and not be too affected but omegas? It is horrific.

Soap smells you on Gaz no matter how much he tries to hide it. His fucking scent match and Gaz is hiding them. The others were too distracted by Gaz's new alpha scent but Johnny always did have the best nose, and he is not going to let this go. He knows Ghost's feelings and he loves the man, but he will not ignore their omega to spare him from confronting his trauma.

You don't trust him when he tracks you down. Another scent match here to break your heart all over again? He's so upset at how sick you've gotten over it, gets to his knees and begs for a chance for his pack.

Only when you finally let him take you home, Ghost growls at you. One of your scent matched alphas growls at you. You want to die. You run away while Soap and him get into a shouting match.

You meet your last alpha while you are running. Price has no idea what is happening when you crash into him as he's walking the path to home. He never thought he'd have an omega. A scent match at that? It's more than he deserves he thinks. He's happy about you running into him, you're his and it feels wonderful. Only you are wildly distressed while smelling like Soap and he needs to figure out why.

He tells you to stay put because he can feel Ghost through the bond, feel his turmoil. He should never have left you, but his concern for his pack mate took priority.

The thing about meeting all your scent matches in quick succession is that it nose dives you into a heat. But they hate you. One rejected you, one brought you to another so he could growl at you, one left you when you were in distress. You are so distraught that you can't go to them because you are certain they will only be disgusted that you would ask them for help with your heat.

You find the nearest shelter. It's a crumbling shed out the back of their property. It doesn't do much to keep out the cold, there are leaks that get worse when it starts to snow through the night. You wish there would be more because you are burning.

The snow storm muffles your scent. The only reason you don't die is because Ghost braved the storm to go grab more firewood from the shed.

There he is, the alpha who hates omegas with his scent matched omega in heat, in pain and in danger. He walks away. You accept death would be a kindness now.

Except you don't die because he sends the others. You don't die because even though he cannot stand to be around you or to smell you, he gives his pack to you. He sits in the armchair all night listening as his pack bundles you into the pack bedroom and knots you through your heat while desperately trying to combat the hypothermia that was setting in.

It's months and months of angst and tension and misery as the pack tries to divide their love between their pack mate and their omega. Ghost hates himself every time he growls at you and scares you. You hate yourself for tearing this pack apart.

There doesn't seem to be a happy ending here until a pair of betas visit town. Maybe Ale and Rudy are just what this pack was missing to make it whole. Maybe they soothe all those frayed edges, act as a buffer. And maybe, just maybe, one day Ghost and you realise all at once that somewhere between you starting to growl right back at him and him starting to make an extra cup of tea for you, you fell entirely in love.

The rest of the pack can't believe it took you two idiots so long to realise it.

[princenotsocharming]

😴

[morphids]

first off- happy holidays!! idk if this is something you’d be interested in but how about a pining assistant troupe with hange? i think it would be fun for reader to have a reiner-ymir relationship with moblit, constantly fighting for hange’s attention and stuff <3

give me all your attention, hange zoë

hi lovely, happy holidays!! this was so much fun to write thank you for requesting!! <3 hope you enjoyyy

summary: pining assistant!r x nb!hange

warnings: kinda sfw—suggestive themes, heavy makeout and a lil dirty talk, tension, lowk dominant hange, nothing explicit. unreliable narration sometimes (r is projecting on moblit a lot) moblit slander—sorry guys i love him really, r def has a hidden praise kink lmao, gendered nicknames towards reader, hange teases a lot, downbad behaviour.

wc: 3.2k

—

Life as Hange's assistant was stressful, to say the least. You think one of these days you'll have a cardiac arrest, the way they're so unbothered about jumping right into danger. Sure, there were worse jobs to be hired into, but it definitely wasn't easy. Hange made sure of that.

But more than that, you couldn't stand Moblit. He was a nice guy, and all, but you two clash a lot. Especially when Hange was in the picture. You'd think Hange had needed him all their life, the way he jumps on the chance to do anything for them. Always doting, chasing them around like a good little labrador. It was sickening, to be honest.

You glanced up from your clipboard, eyeing the way that Moblit brought Hange some dinner, as they hadn't eaten theirs yet. Would've been a nice, caring gesture— except that you had already made extra dinner earlier and boxed some away especially for Hange to eat. Out of all the meals you cooked, that one had been Hange's ultimate favourite. He would've known if he'd bothered to ask, instead of taking it upon himself. You hated how eager to impress Hange he was. Hated Hange's reaction even more, like he was God's gift to their stomach. Ugh.

Both of you were Hange's assistants, having been hired around the same time. So a few years had passed of this little rivalry with each other. You wondered what his motivations were. Why he was as desperate to please as he was.

I mean, your relationship with Hange was so different to theirs. Could he not see that? It's not like all the responsibilities fell on him. If it was up to you, he'd be stuck doing all the paperwork whilst you had the more... hands on jobs that needed doing.

"Dear? Could you come here for a sec?" Hange's voice broke you from your entranced thoughts. You made your way over to the two, tucking your clipboard underneath your arm. Hange seemed to always call you names like that, during the first few weeks of working you worried that they actually just forgot your real name and wanted to cover it up with an easy-to-remember pet name. Then months later, you realised they just seemed to have a proclivity for referring to you in that way.

It flustered you sometimes, made you wonder if that was the reason Moblit didn't seem to take you seriously and seemed to have it out for stealing jobs away from you. Always puffing his chest like he can do everything under the sun. It just seemed to be a quirk of Hange's, though, they never seemed to mean anything by it, always remaining professional. They must just really like nicknames?

"Yes, Hange?" You'd been conditioned to not use their title over the years, Hange seemed to hate that—weeks of correction every time 'Commander,' came out of your mouth.

"I need you to re-check these test results for me—something isn't right, I need fresh eyes."

"Oh, I can do that for you Hange," Moblit spoke, eyes eager as he awaited a new task, even his spine straightened out a little more.

"That won't be needed, Moblit, I'm perfectly capable." You narrowed your eyes at him, voice terse, there he goes again, always trying to take jobs away from you, what an asshole. Does he think women aren't able or something? 

Clearly, your glare hadn't been as internal as you intended, as Hange side-eyed the two of you before shoving their slacking glasses tighter up the nose bridge, then clapping their hands together.

"Anyway, I'd need it by tonight, so bring your findings down to my office when you're done, dear." They smiled down at you, warm and gentle.

"Sure, Hange." You nodded as they walked away, leaving you and Moblit stood awkwardly side by side. Moblit looked you up and down, with a vague face.

"Need something?" You bit out, increasingly getting more annoyed. It had been like this since you both started, but it was becoming worse. Your patience was wearing thinner and thinner as he was getting more absurd with his actions. You often wondered if Hange noticed the growing animosity between their two assistants, and actively chose to not get involved, or if they hadn't even noticed at all.

Moblit cleared his throat, looking down at his shoes now.

"Nope,"

"Great, I'll get started on the analyses."

Moblit nodded curtly, moving aside so you could make your way to the desk to do your work.

—

A few hours had passed, your neck was crooked and sore from having been craned towards paper for the afternoon. It took ages to realise what the problem in the test results had been, and then you finally spotted it.

Oh, you were so gonna kill him.

Etched in Moblit's handwriting, was the incorrect recording of two variables. Making sure your tired eyes weren't being deceitful, you flicked between the two sheets again, the one Hange had drafted for the hypothesis plan with the correct variables, and Moblit's, which was supposed to have it all recorded, properly.

He must've misread the numbers, transcribing the data wrong and fucking up the whole experiment.

Idiot, you thought, sighing. You leaned back into your chair, relieved to have found the error in the results, at least it could be fixed now. Sitting up from your seat, you compiled the work together into a pile and took yourself to relay it back to Hange.

Knocking on the door, Hange's voice rang from the other side of the wall, before cracking the door open. Once seeing it was you, moving to the side to let you in, eyes glimmering as you entered.

"Come in, dear, we were just chatting."

Moblit was in there, too. How great. Well, looks like you'd have to do this with him there.

"I found the error," You muttered, placing the sheets down on Hange's desk.

"Ooh! I knew I could count on you - what was it?" Hange excitedly beamed, sipping on some coffee that you just knew Moblit had brought. He's never brought you any, always just the two cups.

"Well, ask Moblit," you chuckled, maybe it was a good thing he was here, so you could see the look on his face, "He marked the variables wrong, it confused the outcome of the experiment."

Meanwhile, Moblit was mortified.

"Wha—", his mouth slightly hung open as he frantically grabbed the sheets to check for himself. Sighing as he saw that you were, in fact, correct. There it was, his mistake written right in front of his face, mocking him.

"I'm sure it happens all the time," You muttered, just not by you, or Hange.

"I'm sorry, Hange! It won't happen, again!" He bent his neck down with shame, Hange only laughed, shaking their head.

"Don't worry, Moby! It can happen to anyone— at least we know, now!"

As much as you hated to admit it, you couldn't have expected Hange to berate him, not for an honest mistake. Yet, a callous part of you wished they had. Chastised him for his error ruining the experiment, wasting hours on a test that was never going to be executed correctly. Scold him for always acting like he was above you, only to fuck up now. But you knew they were too nice for that, it's what you respected about Hange.

"We'll run it properly tomorrow, right, dear?" Hange beamed, brown eyes shining at you through their specs as you found your anger simmering.

"Of course, Hange," They nodded, pleased.

It wasn't long until Moblit excused himself, leaving Hange's office whilst the remnants of shame fuelled his steps. You were about to follow suit, facing towards the door until Hange spoke, stopping your steps.

"Dear? I wanna speak to you,"

Your stomach sank, fuck. What if you were going to get scolded? As far as you were aware, you hadn't done anything wrong. Sure, they didn't scold Moblit, but that had been an easy mistake. What if something you did was so reprehensible that they would? Maybe Hange had grown tired of the way you were towards Moblit— but just because you were vocal about your irritation, doesn't make Moblit anymore innocent. He's the one that started this, always trying to one-up your achievements and helpful nature.

Turning yourself towards them, you failed to meet eyes. Feeling your nerves increase as you feared the worst, plucking at the skin around your nail beds.

"Don't look so scared! I just wanted to say thank you,"

Looking up at them, you faltered, Hange stood right in-front of you.

"What for?"

"Finding the error! It was driving me insane, honestly, I can't believe I missed it," Hange joked, rubbing their forehead, "Must need a nap,"

"Oh...of course, y-you asked me to,"

"I did," Hange came closer, "That doesn't mean you'd find it, though— I must've looked at that report a hundred times and didn't catch it."

"So well done!" They beamed, "You always do what I ask of you, dear—so well, too."

Hange's arm raised to bring a hand down to your arm, squeezing it affectionately.

Your breath caught in your throat, Hange's praise and the contact seemed to have made your brain go a little silly. A lot, silly, in fact. You could just feel your cheeks warm, the implications of their words used in a different context short-circuited your head.

"T-Thank you, Hange, I'm glad I could help," An attempt at retaining strong, retaining dignity and professionalism. You hoped it worked.

"You always help, dear, just try not to give Moblit such a hard time about it, okay?"

Well, that ruined that. Any sense of pride you had just gotten immediately crushed. Hange must've caught the way your face hardened, the way you began nibbling the inner skin of your lip with your teeth, holding back resentful words at your lips puckered out.

"Look, you don't have to be best friends— I know he isn't innocent, either, okay? But I'd rather have my two favourite assistants get along!"

You stared at them, with an 'are you kidding' expression coated on your features. Heck, you had tried getting along with him. He was the one who made it into a competition of who could please Hange the hardest. Constantly prying their attention away from your impressive feats.

Yeah, okay, fine, time to cut the bullshit— you had realised that you had perhaps, a little, teeny crush on Hange a while back. Heart fluttering too much at their praise, their soft way of speaking to you, the way they were so affectionate or had no qualms about rubbing your arm if you'd done a good job, making sure you knew just how much you had been of help.

You craved it. You craved more of their attention like an addict and craved to impress them, to hear those sweet praises as they smiled at you with those warm eyes and enticing smile. Like you were so good, so smart, useful. Had been the best damned assistant that could preemptively predict what Hange would need.

Especially, in the scientific sense; working hard late at night to write the best damn reports they had ever read. Making sure to help think of clever alternatives for an experiment gone wrong. You were damn good at your job. That's why it pissed you off when Moblit decided to keep shitting on your parade, purposefully outshining you so that he looked like the knight in shining armour.

It wasn't like Hange picked favourites, in fact, they seemed a little oblivious to his ways. Thanking him just as they thanked you, with just perhaps a little less skin-ship. And a little less petnames, the things that made your heart race and stomach flip.

At least you knew your reasonings for this—what were his?

But, Moblit had definitely noticed, the way Hange's professionalism seems to falter a little bit when you were around. Definitely noticed when you both stayed in each other's presence more than was deemed necessary, the way Hange's eyes brightened as they spoke to you.

He thought he could never compete with that, not in the professional sense anyway. He'd made it his mission to try and outshine you however he could so that he wouldn't get left behind in tasks, all due to his Commander's potential sweetened feelings towards you. He'd never have any work if Hange just gave all the good work to you! Truthfully, though, by the time he noticed Hange's...affections for you hadn't impacted the way any of you worked, hadn't picked favourites - it was too late to stop the competitiveness. Too late for the animosity between the two assistants to halt.

"Hange, we would get along if he wasn't hellbent on ruining my career!"

Hange cackled, covering their mouth at the dramatics,

"How does he ruin your career, my dear?"

Ignoring the new addition to the nickname, you continued, having held it in for so long it all just came pouring out.

"He steals all the good jobs, acts better than me even though he messes up experiments, feeds you food even though I made you the dinner you like,"

Yup, you were definitely going off-track, but it was too late to stop the rambling, the box had been opened.

"He follows you around like a puppy, brings both of you coffee—always failing to bring me one! Doting on you like—" You cut yourself off, once you caught the look on Hange's face.

Amused and mirthful, front teeth pulling back a bit on the side of their lip as they listened to your rant. Arms crossed as they looked down at you, eager brown eyes bright and glimmering, wanting you to keep going.

"Why does that bother you so much, huh?"

"It's just annoying—he acts like your boyfriend." You huffed, crossing your arms across your chest, as you looked to the side.

"Well, he's not, we all know that, dear."

"Does he know that?"

Hange gaped at you, a playful expression glazing over their eyes, a gentle smirk tugging on their lips.

"Don't worry, pretty, you have all of my attention."

Meeting their eyes, your stomach flipped, a tension in your abdomen at their words. Pretty? That's a new one. You hated the way it sat in your stomach, making your mind sink to dark, dark places. The words in your throat were caught, trapped as you couldn't find in yourself to respond eloquently.

"Yeah right." You knew you were being unreasonably bratty, especially to your superior, but you couldn't care at this point. Deciding to just spew it out.

"Why don't I show you, then, hm?"

Hange unfolded their arms, grabbing your elbows and pulling you close to them.

"What—"

"ssh—told you, 'm gonna show you,"

Hange moved your arms to rest around their shoulders, their own coming down to wrap around your waist.

"What does that mea—"

"It means," Hange was losing patience, "Let me show you how no one else is stealing my attention away, pretty girl."

Hange was inches away, eyes down to your lips, as one hand reached up to thumb the skin on your jaw. Your plump lips split, shallow breaths escaping as your pretty, doe eyes stared up at them, dilating to reveal a darker pool of black in your pupils at Hange's closeness. Mind reeling at how close Hange's fingers were to your throat.

"They never did, dear, my attention was always yours."

Their lips almost touching yours, your brows tilting up slightly as their words. Almost hesitant, what if this was a trap? An insanely well-thought, long planned trap from Moblit, get you to admit your feelings and then humiliate you.

"You were always just so good, doing everything I asked you," The paused, the hand at your waist tightening its grip on your sides, "'N you do it all so well, pretty girl."

"Y'can't possibly think I was never impressed with you, hm?"

Hange's mouth reached your ear, lip grazing your earlobe as shivers went down your back, "All you needed to do was walk into the room n'Im impressed, dear."

"So I’m asking you, will you let me show you?"

You nodded, biting back a low whimper as Hange's lips moved away from your ear to the front of you, hand at your waist still strong, and the other tugging at your jaw, grabbing you a little bit harder, dragging your skin as they pulled your face closer, your eyes fluttering as they moved you.

"Yeah?" They smiled, a gentle, soft smile. Voice teasing, almost mocking, like they knew exactly what they were doing to you—it's not like you were hiding it well, "You'll let me, pretty girl? Need t'hear you say it,"

All doubts left your mind, that craving returning with full force as your mind turned to mush, incoherent thoughts, all you could make out was that craving. That desire that had been eating up at you over the years, Hange’s sweet praise leaving you feeling floaty.

"Y-yes, Hange,"

With the confirmation, Hange pressed their lips to yours, skin finally touching skin. The warmth of their mouth encompassing your own, as you allowed yourself to melt into their kiss. Surrounded with Hange, your chests pressing together as you hands grabbed at the back of their neck. Impossibly close, yet you still craved to be closer.

The sound of lips smashing against each other filled the room, the mutual desire would be heard clearly to anyone who walked in. Heavy breathing through noses as you sighed into each other.

Hange separated your lips to murmur against you, in between shorter pecks, “Been waiting to be able to kiss you,” They breathed out, voice rasped and low, “Waiting this whole time,”

“Hang—“ Your whimpers were cut short, swallowed as Hange connected your lips again, the kiss starved and ardent. Hange’s grip on your jaw was unbelievably tight, helpful considering it was getting harder to hold your head up, truly weakened.

Hange moved your bodies around, the back of your thighs meeting the line of wooden desk, as they leaned you up against it. The hand from your waist reaching down to lift your thigh up on the wooden slab, letting you lean your weight back on it as they placed themselves comfortably in between your open legs. Your thighs tightened around them to keep them close, shivering at the contact of them pressing up against you. Hange’s hands grabbed at your thighs, feeling as much skin as the clothes on your legs would allow, fingers kneading against the fabric, wishing they could feel you without the layers.

“Taste so sweet, dear,” Hange groaned against your lips, “Makin’ me wanna do bad things,” Hange’s lips were plump and flushed, solid evidence of the feverish kissing as you imagined your own weren’t any better off.

“Makin’ me wanna take you right here,” Hange’s words incited you, propelled you deeper into impropriety as you responded, words breathy and full of want.

“What’s stopping you then?”

—

…welp 🫣

[gobald]

"I shall send you to heaven before I send you to hell"

[bluemoondust]

Realized the reason why I like Sunday is that he falls into the pretty delulu man who has the potential to become unhinged category of my faves (Mr. Reca too),,, Like,,,

He's the type of guy who believes they are the only person who can keep you from harm's way and from being tainted by the world. What's that? You are tainted? That's preposterous and untrue. He proceeds to act like he has never heard such a thing. Oh, how the world has already put such labels on you. It must be a burden. Luckily, he does not see you in such a way. You have been hurt, your heart has been broken, and your faith has been tested, but that does not mean you're far from saving. There is still a light within you and he will draw it out. He'll be your salvation. He forgives you for everything held against you; a true believer in your will and light.

Any sort of mental scars and/or trauma you may have are treated like wounds and need to recover under his care. You've been wounded too much to press on, let him take you in. The strong must protect the weak, after all. That was not meant to be an insult. He was once weak as well. He was someone weak before he grew stronger. Now he is strong enough to help others who are weak. You have to ask yourself at some point; how long until you can't keep going? Who will hold your hand then? It doesn't have to get to that point, you know. Just take his hand and everything will be alright. You won't have to worry about anything. You are better off without those burdens weighing you down. You are better off being free of the pain and anguish the world has to offer. He will make sure none of it reaches your senses.

Ignorance is bliss.

[leftmostbongo]

In the Dog House

Short story

Title: In the Dog House

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Characters (Pairings but mentions of other characters): Sandor Clegane (The Hound) and Reader

Notes: Yeah, so. Yeah, reader is the daughter of a wealthy jewler and she spends a lot of time at the palace and junk and she's been doing a lot of naughty stuff with the scary watch dog (Sandor). Enjoysies!

The night you had been dreading for days was finally upon you. A “celebration” for Sansa and Joffrey’s wedding and you and your father were expected to be there as your father was a very prolific jewelry designer and friend of the Queen. The dress that was made for you was squeezing too snug against your skin and the fabric itched under your armpits as you stared out from the table with distaste. Your father sat next to you, chatting away with a lady and her husband, likely networking as he called it. On your other side, sat your friend who had been babbling about her recent endeavors with a knight she’d been seducing. You listened, absentmindedly but soon your attention was quickly drawn to the double door that swung open and revealed the young couple. And there, sauntering in behind them, was the Hound. Your heart  quickened at the sight of him, armour clinging tightly to his broad chest. Those wide shoulders that make excellent resting places for your thighs seemed to span forever. He caught you staring and fought back a smirk as his eyes trailed over you. 

You felt heat pool in your stomach but looked away before your father could notice your skin reddening all over. He stood behind the couple, looming over them menacingly, his big arms crossed in front of him as he gazed out over the room full of people but his eyes would always return to you, watching you giggle with your friend.

The night continued far longer than you wanted it to but the drinks kept you pleasantly numb to the snobbery. Your father seemed to have made a few friends as he approached you.

“Dearest, I’m making a trip back to the shop for the night with our new friends so I won’t be in my- HIC-” He chuckled drunkenly and continued. “I won’t be in my chambers this evening. You’ll be okay without me, right?” 

“Yes, Father. I’ll be perfectly fine. A quiet night will be nice after this evening.” You lied expertly. “Wonderful, my dear! See you tomorrow!” He kissed your cheeks and stumbled off to join his new friends. Several more wealthy patrons began to exit the banquet hall, drunk and laughing and you longed to join them. You were beginning to grow sick from all the ladies showering you with questions and backhanded compliments. “And how old are you, dear? You should be marrying soon!” And “Oh such a pretty face! You’ll have such beautiful children someday soon!” You wanted to tell them where they could fuck off to but you kept a smile plastered on your face until you could finally excuse yourself. Stepping outside into the courtyard, you took a deep breath, cherishing the cool air.

“Hello, pretty girl. What are you doing out here all by yourself, hm?” A familiar gravely voice spoke from the shadows. A smile pulled at the corners of your mouth and you turned toward it. “I was hoping you’d still be around.” You replied confidently. 

“Oh, you were?” The man stepped out of the shadows and into the light, his large stature lumbering towards you, menacingly. “And why’s that, lass?” 

“I’m bored and tired of everyone. There are better things to do out here.” You replied, causing Sandor to chuckle and glance around for any potential eavesdroppers. 

“I see. Where’s Daddy tonight?” He stepped just a little closer to you, enough that you could smell the wine on his breath. You wanted a taste. 

“He’s preoccupied. All. Night. Long.” You closed the gap between the two of you, running your hands up the broad planes of his chest plate. 

“Is that so?” He took your chin between his thumb and index finger and roughly tilted your head up.

 “Yes.” You practically moaned. His dark eyes watched your lips as he spoke his next words. 

“And what does my pretty girl have in mind, hmm?” He rumbled, his hand dropping to your throat and moving his other hand to wrap around your waist. “Speak up.” He ordered. 

“I want you to fuck me.” You whined as you held onto his massive forearm with both hands. You could feel your own wetness start to dribble down your thighs.

“Mmmmm.” He hummed as he pushed you back behind a large column, safe from onlookers. You had to stop yourself from making any more noise as he roughly pressed his thigh against your cunt. His hand remained snug around your throat, fingers squeezing just enough to make you squirm. 

“Tell me again, princess. Tell me what you want.” You loved it when he was like this. True, he was definitely drunk but Gods, it drives you crazy when he wants you this bad. He’s usually a non-verbal lover but when he drank, he told you what he wanted, how he wanted it and praised your every move. It was, for lack of better terms, fucking hot. “I want your big cock to fuck me absolutely senseless.” You whispered, grinding yourself against his thigh. With little time to even think, he crashed his lips on yours. It was feral, all tongue and teeth and claw. Your hips moved on their own against his muscular thigh, seeking desperately for friction. It was short-lived as he drew back with your lip between his teeth and released it, making a popping sound into your mouth. “Get your perfect ass down to my quarters. Right now and wait for me. I’ll give you what you need, little one.” He growled against your lips. He released your body from the wall he had you pinned against, and you adjusted your dress. You knew what he meant and your pussy throbbed. He was the King’s Guard so he couldn’t just up and leave. There were things that had to be done first. But when those things were done, he would come to his chamber and fuck you like the hound that he was. Rough and feverish. Not like the other boys who treated you like some fragile little doll. Sandor left bruises, marked you, made you bleed sometimes but you loved the ache that lasted for days. It made you think of him when he wasn’t there and reminded you of the dirty things you do together. You had to wear dresses with high necklines nowadays but it was worth it. “Do hurry.” You whispered, reaching out and touching his fingers at his side. He used to jerk away from you when you were affectionate like this but this time, he allowed your soft, little fingers to graze against the rough calloused pads of his massive hand. He surprised you by gingerly grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles. A smirk spread over his face as he watched the blush heat up your cheeks once again. “Get moving.” He turned you around and popped you on the ass, causing you to yelp. He chuckled and made his way back into the banquet hall. You were very fortunate to find that you didn’t run into a single person on your way, which was always preferred for Sandor. Your father was not a fan of the Hound and you were certain he wouldn’t approve of his cock inside of his daughter. But that clearly was a small bump in your path as you quietly pulled the large door open to his room. It was small but the bed was big enough to fit his giant frame. A small shelf next to the door held a variety of things. Books that you gave him to read together, a couple daggers of varying sizes and a large bottle of wine sat on top. 

You had little time to continue looking around as the door opened and Sandor ducked inside. He had already removed his gloves and shoulder guards and proceeded to toss them down on the floor somewhere in the corner. His cold gaze fixed on you as he continued unlacing more of his armor.

“Take that off.” He ordered, gesturing to your dress. You obeyed him eagerly, tugging at the ties and pulling the fabric off of your body. “Seven hells.” He growled as you revealed your entirely naked form with your dress pooled around your ankles. “You were walking around all night with your pretty little cunt bare as a babe just to fucking do this to me?” He pulled off his thigh guards which allowed you to catch a glimpse of the outline of his cock, hard and aching in his pants. 

“Yes.” You answered, your mouth watering at the sight of him as he shed the last scraps of metal. “Naughty girl.” He rasped, taking off his belt and tossing it in the other direction. He reached over and took the wine off of the shelf and opened the corked bottle with his teeth. “Come here.” He said, after spitting out the cork and taking a huge swig of the alcohol. You shivered with a mixture of anticipation and the cool air that was raising goosebumps on your skin, but you kicked off your shoes and obeyed his command. Swaying your hips as you approached him innocently, you ran your hand down the length of his muscular thigh. He took in a sharp breath through his nose and pressed the rim of the bottle against your lips. He tilted the bottle up so you could sip some of the liquid while your hand trailed underneath his shirt to feel his strong stomach. He pulled the bottle away from your lips after you had taken what you wanted and attacked your mouth, his tongue tasting yours. You wrapped your arms around his thick neck, trying to keep your balance while he nipped and teased. He pulled back and trickled the dark liquid over your chest. Bending at the torso, he roughly sucked your nipple into his mouth. You panted desperately, holding his head to your chest, watching closely as he sloppily licked the liquid off of your breasts. 

His lips began to travel up to your collarbones, nipping and biting until he reached your ear. His tongue trailed heavily over the shell of it, “On your knees.” He commanded, an edge in his voice that had you down on the floor faster than he could get the last word out. Finally, he opened his pants and pulled out his mighty cock. You marveled at it for a moment, but Sandor’s low chuckle brought you back to reality. 

“My pretty princess loves this cock, hmm?” He reached down and took the entire bottom half of your face in his massive hand. You felt your pussy drip onto the floor and you whined impatiently. 

“I know you do, pretty girl. Go on, take it.” He squeezed your jaw and pulled you forward. With a muffled moan, you gratefully took as much of his cock into your mouth as you could. Your hands trailed up to drag his pants down to his ankles so you could feel his strong, fury thighs.

“Fuck, good girl.” He groaned. He quickly repositioned his hands to comb your hair to the back of your head, keeping it out of your face. Now he was able to guide your head, pushing and pulling you in a steady rhythm. You adjusted quickly and without warning, he began to fuck your face. “Been waiting for this all night… FUCK missed your sweet mouth, pretty girl.” The words were falling from his lips as his hips bucked into your mouth. You clawed at his thighs, leaving crescent shaped cuts but he didn’t seem to notice. Tears started streaming down your face and stringy saliva dribbled down your chin while you held your throat open for him. Your head was swimming from the wine and the lack of oxygen as he held you down to the hilt for a couple seconds. ‘MMMmmmmm good girl.” He growled and released you right as your vision began to blur and you heaved in a deep breath. He pulled you up by your hair, making you moan then he shoved two fingers into your mouth. “Suck.” Came his command. Your lips stretched around the large digits and worked your tongue between them, slurping and sucking lewdly. With his lips parted, he watched you intently. You couldn’t help but buck your hips impatiently and moan. He cursed and wrapped his arm around you, lifting you up and hooking your legs around his waist with his free hand. You could feel his length against your wet pussy just beckoning for you to slip it inside. But he carried you over to his bed and flopped you down roughly onto the blankets. You almost protested but stopped yourself as you watched him drop to his knees and settle quickly between your thighs. His wet fingers easily slid into your drenched pussy, curling up and sending delicious sparks up and down your spine. He sucked and bit the soft flesh of your thighs while his fingers worked inside of you, pulling sobs and yelps from your lips and causing your body to jerk and squirm. “Please, Sandor…” You begged, desperately fisting the blanket beneath you. 

“What is it, princess?” He grinned almost evilly. “Please… give me your mouth…” You almost sobbed as your pussy contracted and pulsed around his fingers, which slowed inside of you. “Mmmm” He hummed, his lips against your left upper thigh, so close but still so far. “Is this not enough of my mouth, little one?” He teased. You could feel your clit throbbing, begging for stimulation and you sobbed harder. “Pleeease please, I want your mouth on my pussy, please! I want your tongue to- FUCK” He cut you off by sucking your clit roughly and pumping his fingers steadily in and out of your greedy cunt. Stars swirled behind your squeezed eyelids, while your hands fisted the back of his head as he feasted on you. “Please don’t stop!” You sobbed out loudly, your thighs quaking around his head. He quickened the pace, filling the room with lewd squelching sounds and your combined groaning. His tongue flicked and rolled over your clit frantically, in perfect sync with his thick fingers bumping the sweet spot inside of you. “Cum for me, princess.” He ordered against your flesh. The next pump of his hand and the slurping of his lips against your clit sent you hurtling over the edge and your first orgasm of the night washed over your body. Your hips lifted off of the bed, but Sandors strong arms roughly held your pelvis to his face as he ravenously licked and sucked at your cunt. Your lungs released the breath you didn’t know you were holding as you shook and moaned, riding out your high on the older man's face. He pulled away with an animalistic growl, “That’s my good girl. You taste so fucking good, princess.” All you could do was gulp in air and shake uncontrollably. He moved above you, removing his shirt and tossing it aside. “Does my pretty girl want me to fuck her now?” He asked, bending at the torso to drag his teeth over your hips and stomach. “Yes! Please fuck me now!” You sobbed, pulled out of your orgasm haze by a sharp nip to the skin just below your breast. “Gods, I love it when you beg for me!” He snarled and straightened at the waist to spread your legs wider for him. Without warning, he plunged his cock inside of you to the hilt.  You screamed but it was immediately muffled by the large palm of his hand. You held onto his forearm with both hands, relishing the rough contact. “Shhh princess, you don’t want your daddy to come looking for you in the dog’s house.” He grunted above you. But his hips began to roll, steady and deep, filling you up every time. It felt like you were being cracked in half as you whimpered, pain and pleasure jolting across your nerve endings causing your eyes to roll back in their sockets. “Mmmm I know, pretty girl. Fuck, you feel so fucking good too. Such a perfect little pussy for me.” The praises kept spilling from his mouth and you moaned under his heavy hand, basking in his words while your pussy began to drip around his cock. The hand clamped over your mouth slid down to wrap around your throat while the other gripped your thigh so hard you knew there would be bruises. You choked on another scream as he brutally fucked you, hips slapping loudly against the backs of your thighs.  

“YES yes yes yes!” You croaked as you held onto his forearm. 

“My pretty princess loves taking cock from her big scary dog doesn’t she?!” He rumbled and attacked your neck, sucking deep red and purple marks into your skin.

“YES!!! Yes! Gods I love it! I love it!“ You sobbed, back arching into him as he bit down just above your collarbone, then licked the area lovingly. “That’s right… Ughh fuck. Fucking turn around.” He ordered, backing up and allowing you to move on all fours. You looked back at him over your shoulder and wiggled your ass. He slapped both hands on the globes of your cheeks and cursed when you let out a sharp gasp. “This perfect little ass…” He smoothed his hands over it, soothing the sting. He cracked his hand over one cheek and then the other. “I love that shade of red on this perfect little ass.” He chuckled maniacally, as your moaning got louder the harder he slapped your now burning bum. Just as the tears began to stream down your face and you felt like you couldn’t take it anymore, he plunged his heated cock back inside your soaking wet cunt. Your ass was throbbing from the beating and the wiry hairs adorning his abdomen and pubic area were scraping roughly against your stinging flesh. He began fucking you steady and rough, using your wide hips as handles while you pushed back to meet his thrusts. “Tell me who owns this sweet little cunt?” He grunted, reaching out to grab a fistful of your hair and pulled you up against his chest so he could keep talking in your ear. “Yours.. It’s yours! Fuck, Sandor! Please don’t stop!” You knew you sounded like a mewling whore but you didn’t care at that moment. This felt different to you. More desperate and passionate than usual and you wanted so much more of it. “Yes, that’s right. My good girl. Mine. All mine.” He wrapped his hand around your neck and squeezed, your moaning now a silent O accompanied by pitiful whimpering. But this allowed you to rest your head on his shoulder while his other hand slid down and began rubbing rough circles against your clit. 

“Only I make you feel this fucking good, sweet girl.” He rasped in your ear. “You want the Hound to make you cum, pretty girl? Tell me.” He moaned and you knew he was close too. 

“Yes! Please give it to me! Please make me cum on your cock, Sandor!!” You sobbed as best you could with his hand cutting off your air. 

He snarled and shoved your head into the bed, his fingers digging deliciously into your scalp. The next crack of his hips against your ass nearly made you shriek but you bit your lip as he began pistoning in and out of you. “Good girl, take it so good. My little princess loves getting fucked by her mean old dog, hmm? You gonna cum on this cock, princess?” He panted. Gods, you loved it when he got desperate for you.“Uuuughh Fuck Sandor!! Yes YES YES fuck YES!! I love your cock so much!! Fucking cum inside me!! Fill me up!!” You screamed and sobbed into the room as he reached under you again to rub your clit. 

“Yes, fucking take all of it. Yes, GOD’S-“ He bit down on your shoulder hard and you felt the warmth of his seed filling you up right before your vision blurred and your pussy contracted around him. You couldn’t even hear for several moments as you sobbed underneath him. 

“Yeeesss, I know, good girl. You did so good for me, princess.” He panted against your skin where he bit you. Then, he started raining kisses all over your shoulders and upper back. His sudden display of softness startled you but you didn’t dare say anything. This was new but much welcomed treatment from the stoney man. He stood up and pulled his softening length from inside you with a grunt, leaving you feeling empty. “Sandor?” Your voice sounded smaller than you intended as you turned to him. 

He picked up his dirty shirt from the corner to wipe himself off and returned to you with the article. “Hm?” He helped you to clean up as well, dragging the fabric over your oversensitive pussy to collect the mixture of fluids dribbling out of you. “Please let me stay here with you tonight?” You tried. He didn’t look up from his task. “We talked about this, pretty girl. You don’t want to get caught with me.” He finished up and tossed the article back down on the floor. 

“Please? Just this once…” You begged. You felt like you sounded like a little kid and winced as he shook his head and looked away from you.

"I don’t want anyone to treat you differently. You’re a la-”

“Don’t you call me that.” You stopped him before he could call you a lady. “You are no Ser and I am no Lady. You are the Hound and I am your Princess. I don’t fucking care anymore about what people think of that. I will fuck whoever I damn well please.” 

He chuckled low in his throat and pinned you back down to the bed and kissed your forehead, then your nose. “Such a feisty little one.” 

“Sandor…” You called his name again. His eyes searched your face, as if looking for the answer to his predicament. “I want to be with you…” You attempted one last time.

He took a defeated breath in through his nose and lowered his face into the crook of your neck. “Alright, princess.” 

[toxicanonymity]

what if everyone simply wrote blurbs for their favorite manspreading gifs and pics and tagged them #manspreading olympics?

[waffawa]

There is nothing more infuriating than going on Pinterest, looking at Charlastor fan art, and reading all the braindead comments from people hating on the ship. "Charlie is canonically les!" "Hate this ship" "He's like a father to her!" "This is wrong."

LIKE IT'S JUST A SHIP AHHHHHHH since when did everyone get so gatekeepy and weird about shipping?? Canon or not? Inappropriate or not? Like what?? Have I been asleep for 20 years?! What the heck is anti and pro shipping?!

Makes me wanna make even more Charlastor fanart than ever thought possible.

[whorekneecentral]

"wanna come over and fuck?" Fwb max after a rece weekend

you get it // prompt: "wanna come over and fuck?"

It was midnight as he turned the lock to his apartment. He knew you'd be getting off work in a few minutes, you had texted him on your way into work. You picked up the midday shift, so you could watch his race and then go in.

He tossed the keys on the entry table, pulling his phone from his pocket as the door slammed shut.

From Max: wanna come over and fuck?

His phone buzzed only a second after he sent the message to you.

To Max: fuck off max

He laughed and put the phone on the table, heading up to take a shower. Just as he stepped out, there's a knock on the front door. Max pulls on a pair of shorts and heads down the hallway to open the door.

"Hi," you yawned as he opened the door. Max steps aside, letting you in. "Hey."

You wander over to the couch, dropping down onto it. "I'm exhausted," you tell him, covering your mouth as you yawned again. He sits next to you, pulling you into his side as he rubbed your arm softly.

It's quiet for a few minutes, Max lets you get all comfy next to him. "Did you see my podium ?"

"You mean was it different from all the other races this season?" you looked at him, a smile on your face. "Yeah, I saw. Congratulations babe."

Max smiles, "thank you," he leans down to kiss you, a hand pressed to your cheek. You let the man pull you onto his lap so you were now straddling him, his hands wandering all over you.

"I missed you, you know." You mumbled against his lips, "you go away too often."

"You should come with me," he tells you, pulling your shirt off.

You laughed, shaking your head. "No, that makes this," you gestured between the two of you, "too real. We're just friends, right? No need to complicate things."

"Right," Max nods, kissing you once more. "No need."

[kiivg]

.🦷🦷🦷.

[scrollonso]

Cinnamon — Strollonso (7) (prev)

Fernando: I'm at the front.

Lance checked his phone when a text from his boyfriend — that's what they were, right? — lit up the screen, smiling to himself as he threw down the pen in his hands to reply.

Lance: I’m almost done. I’ll be out soon. 💚💚💚

Shoving his phone into his pocket, Lance continued to close up the Aston Martin building. He was doing it later than his father usually did today — at 7:00 pm rather than the usual 5:00 pm as his father had to attend business elsewhere.

Organizing files, putting things away, and then shutting off the lights, Lance locked the building up for the day before walking outside, slipping his phone out so he could text his boyfriend again.

It came naturally, running a business like this. He was practically a trained dog for it.

Before he could click on their chat, a pair of voices were heard and Lance looked up, seeing his boyfriend and a man who was standing far too close for his liking engaged in a conversation.

It was only when the man took a step forward, placing his hand on his boyfriend’s arm did Lance's lips purse, tucking his phone away.

There wasn’t a specific feeling Lance could identify in that moment, but a tight pressure built in his chest. His fists clenched, and thats when he understood— jealousy. He's so embarrassingly jealous over practically nothing.

There was absolutely no reason for him to feel this way — he trusted Fernando. He knew him. Still, the idea that someone was touching his boyfriend — someone other than him —was fuelling a kind of anger he rarely experienced.

Lance began to surge forward, needing to put an end to it when Fernando's following actions had his heart feeling light. He watched dutifully as his boyfriend tilted his head, staring at the guy’s hand on his arm intensely for a second before taking an obvious step back. A small breath of air left Lance's lips, loosening the ache in his throat.

The guy’s hand fell away, and his smile dimmed momentarily. Watching Fernando's stance, Lance could tell he was starting to get uncomfortable. Fernando's eyes flickered back to the main entrance of the building where he expected Lance to walk through, and he nodded his head, talking less and less to the stranger before him.

Lance took this opportunity to make his way over, a smile on his face. As he got closer, he could hear their conversation more clearly — realizing the guy was talking about something Lance was familiar with, having an entire shop dedicated to cars.

“So, I was just wondering if you could help me pick the next car for my collection? Maybe we could grab a bite now if you’re free! I know this great dinner place a five-minute walk from here,” the guy suggested.

Before Fernando could talk, Lance spoke up instead.

“Hi, Fer.” Lance stood beside him, his smile widening as he looked up at him, his arm wrapping around Fernando's waist. Enjoying how the older man instantly relaxed into the hold, and warmth filled Lance.

Fernando's hand went straight to Lance's back, his fingers twisting around a the fabric of his formal jacket.

Lance turned his head back to the guy before them, whose eyes flicked between the two of them before returning to Fernando's face, completely ignoring Lance.

“So, are you free? I’m confused about—” the guy continued.

“I own Aston Martin,” Lance interrupted. He might as well get business out of this unpleasant situation. “I can assess your interests and find a vehicle that—“

“I wasn’t asking you. I was asking him.”

“Excuse me?” Lance scoffed, incredulous. No way he was being spoken to like that. Not after this stranger was shamelessly flirting with his man.

The guy’s tone made Fernando straighten up. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to help you,” Fernando said simply, his voice flat.

The guy’s demeanor changed instantly, shock infiltrating his features. His soft smile was replaced with disgust. Aimed at Lance. Lance shifted on his feet, his fists clenching again as he tried to take a step forward so he could sock this cunt right in the face.

The only thing stopping him was Fernando's grip on his waist, unrelenting, forcing him to stay still.

“Listen here—“ Lance began, and was cut off.

“What? Why?” the guy asked, confused, still ignoring Lance as he only directed his attention to his boyfriend.

“Apologize.” “Apologize?”

“Yes.” Fernando repeats in a condescending tone. “Apologize to my boyfriend.”

When the stranger stays silent, his mouth agape, Fernando sighs as if he’s bored and turns to look down at an equally shocked Lance. “Are you finished?”

“Mhm,” Lance hums quietly, and his boyfriend nods, moving his hand from his waist and slipping it into Lance's hand instead. He firmly grips it, dragging them both towards his car.

“Hey!” Lance exclaims, looking over his shoulder at the stranger. “I haven’t hit him yet!”

“It’s time to go home, Lancito.” Fernando said monotonously. “Come on,” Fernando dragged his boyfriend to the passenger side, opening the door before setting his hands on Lance's waist.

Before he could protest, Lance was easily lifted into the air and set in the seat, and Fernando reached across his body to buckle him in.

“I’m mad at you.” Lance said once the click of the seatbelt had been secured. Fernando sighed, resting an arm at the top of the car as he peered inside towards his boyfriend.

“Why?”

“You let that ugly creature touch you.”

“I moved away.”

“Still,” Lance huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and looked away. “You should’ve done more.”

“Like what?”

“Kill him.”

That had Fernando cracking a small smile, and he raised his free hand to cup Lance's jaw, gently turning his face so they were staring at each other again.

Lance stared into his boyfriend’s eyes intensely, trying to keep the frown on his face. He wasn’t mad, not really. Just a bit annoyed. Not at his boyfriend but at the dumb fuck who—

His thoughts were cut off when Fernando leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. Brain short circuiting, Lance's eyes closed instantly and he was arching into the delicate touch, wanting to deepen it.

Fernando entertained him for a few seconds before pulling away, staring at him again.

“Happy?”

“No,” Lance scowled. “Fuck me and I will be.”

“We’re in front of your dad's company.”

“Sexy. Now take your pants off.”

Fernando pulled away fully, laughing to himself as he slammed the passenger door shut in his boyfriend’s face. With a slacked jaw, Lance watched as his Fernando rounded the car before getting into the driver’s seat and hopping in.

“You’re mean,” he told Fernando once he had settled in.

Fernando shrugged, starting the car. “You like it.” As much as Lance wanted to deny it, he couldn’t. He lived for Fernando's mock rudeness — loved it, in fact.

Lance squirmed in his seat as Fernando began to drive them back to Lance's house. The thought of being home and alone with Fernando's had Lance even more restless, fisting his hands on his thighs to try and subside the burning pleasure inside his body.

It didn’t help when Fernando reached across the console to set his big hand on Lance's thigh, holding him down firmly halting any movements.

His hand was so uncharacteristically large that it could easily circle majority of the surface of Lance's thigh, and that very idea of Fernando being much bigger and stronger than him — in every way besides height — only made his breath catch in his throat.

Instead of saying something, Fernando teased Lance by rubbing small circles on the inside of his thigh using his pinkie. Looking over at his boyfriend, he could see the almost lazy way Fernando was presenting himself. His free hand — the one not currently torturing Lance — was set easily on the steering wheel. He looked so composed, so bored, and it only served to make the situation more enthralling.

“Fer,” Lance whined softly, unable to take anymore. If the growing tent in his jeans served to prove anything, he didn’t know what could.

“What is it, Lance?” Fernando asked, feigning confusion. “Did you forget something at the shop?”

“No , you fucking—“

Lance's words cut short when Fernando pressed his hand against the younger boy's boner and a desperate pant left his mouth as he shut his eyes.

Trying to cope, Lance held his breath until they finally reached his house. Clicking off his seatbelt, Lance made quick work of turning to Fernando and yanking his shirt close, sealing their lips together in a burning kiss. Moaning in his mouth, Lance started to climb into his boyfriend’s lap when Fernando stopped him with a push to his chest.

Whining, Lance pulled away and stared desperately into his eyes.

“I still have some papers left to grade,” Fernando murmured, and that had Lance heating up even more.

“But—“

“Will you be a good boy and wait for me? It won’t take that long.” Lance sighed, nodding his head and let Fernando go — watching him pull out his own school bag as he did so. Before he could get far, though, Fernando pressed a soft kiss against his mouth as a thank you before they both exited the car.

“Will you be fast?” Lance sadly asks.

Fernando nods, and they enter the house. Slipping off their shoes, Lance grabs Fernando before he can fully retreat into one of the spare rooms he'd been using for wodk.

“Give me a goodbye kiss.” He demands.

“I just kissed you in the car, Lance.”

Lance frowns. “Yes, but that wasn’t to say goodbye.”

Instead of arguing, Fernando leans down and gives Lance what he wants knowing if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be left alone long enough before his boyfriend is whining at his office door wanting to come in and makeout some more. After a quick kiss Fernando practically runs to his makeshift office, leaving a pouting Lance behind as he shouts after him.

“Hey! That wasn’t a proper kiss you cheater!”

A couple hours had passed by and Lance decided it was time to check out what his boyfriend was doing.

Innocently, of course. He had even ordered takeout and just wanted Fernando to eat. Nothing more, truly.

Pushing open the door to his office, Lance sees Fernando slouched on a comfy chair with his — practically useless — glasses pushed to the top of his head, pushing back his hair in a way that does something to Lance's stomach.

As Lance walks towards him, food in hand, he takes his time observing his boyfriend.

Fernando is leaning forward on the desk, his left hand cupping his head while his right plays with a black pen. Lance can see how focused he is on marking what he assumes is another assignment Lance didn't do, the small furrow in his brows lighting a smile on his face wondering what made him confused to the point where he's unsure on how to assess it. Fernando shifts his glasses back in place, most likely trying to work again.

"I seem to be lost, professor." Lance says out loud once he’s close enough, and Fernando is finally aware of his presence with a startle, looking up before a small smile crosses his features.

He easily puts away his pen, gathering up the papers on the desk and shuffling them into a neat pile. The entire action is so studious it makes Lance want to fuck him in that chair.

"What brings you here, Mr. Stroll" Fernando asks formally, playing along, and Lance rounds the desk just as he leans back in his chair, swivelling it in his direction as he approaches him. His legs spread just slightly, and Lance feels that action deep inside of him.

"Oh, y'know." Lance says airily, a shrug to his shoulders. "I was just around."

"Around?"

"Getting dinner," He clarifies, shaking the takeout bag in his hand softly to show him. "And I thought of you."

"Thinking about me after class?"

Lance sets the food on the desk before crawling in his lap, his knees on either side of Fernando's thighs as his arms wrap around his neck. His boyfriend’s own hands settle on his waist, stroking up and down in a caress.

Lance had changed into embarrassingly short shorts and a tight tiffany green shirt, his exposed skin being touched so delicately it made him shiver.

"You are my favourite professor." Lance whispers against his lips, brushing his own over and over again in a caress not yet making full contact.

"You're a tease." Fernando says, tilting his head up trying to connect their lips.

Since Lance was on top, he realized the small amount of power he held over his boyfriend. Though, it quickly dissolved when Fernando's right hand leaves his waist and pushed up his glasses so they sit on the top of his head, cupping the back of Lance's neck in a firm hold and pushing his face down so it can finally meet his.

Fernando moans into his mouth, most likely tasting the small dessert his boyfriend had eaten earlier and Lance shifts closer, fully settling into his lap. Fernando's left hand travels down to Lance's thigh, fingertips pushing up the fabric just enough to mess with him.

It's only when they pull away — Lance's hands cupping Fernando's face does he talk again.

"You missed me." Fernando says simply.

"I brought you dinner."

"You wore these short little shorts, and interrupted me just to bring me dinner?”

"You're my professor." Lance deflects, not so subtly making him let out a soft laugh.

"Ah, you wanna continue playing." Fernando nods, understanding what his boyfriend wants. They occasionally role played — though majority of the time it involved Lance begging his boyfriend to do something dangerous, the fear eliciting pleasure. Never before had it been just a version of their reality in a different font.

Fernando gives his boyfriend’s neck a small squeeze before settling both hands on his thighs again. Lance moves back just slightly so he can look down, seeing the contrast in their size. His hands are so large that they fill the expanse of his thighs, even squished together making him shiver.

"So you came here to... what? Bring me dinner and leave?"

"I dunno." Lance shrugs innocently. "Maybe get a grade or two."

"And you think dinner is enough for a grade or two?"

"What else could you want?"

Fernando takes his time checking him out, fingers tracing the column of his neck before slipping into the top of the shirt and pulling at it enough to separate the fabric from my chest.

"You shouldn't be doing that," Lance whispers. "You're my professor."

"You're the one who came here looking for a free grade. Shouldn't I get something in return?"

"I brought you food." Lance's hands fall to his shoulders, fingers curling in the fabric as he continues his feather like touch where he wants him the most.

"I would like to eat something," He nods, and a smirk lights his features when he reaches down under Lance's thin shorts and palms him fully, his fingers most likely feeling the damp underwear.

"My, Lance." He taunts. "Are you wet for your teacher? Does the way I lecture you turn you on?"

"You're not being fair."

"Aren't I? You decided to come meet me during the night, wearing these short fucking shorts and this cute little innocent expression hoping I'd eat your fucking dinner and grade you an A. I don't think you're being fair."

His fingers hook into Lance's underwear, yanking the fabric to the side so he can access his dick. As soon as Lance feels him give him a quick, rough stroke, his eyes growing hazy as he slumps forward.

He can see the way Fernando is smiling at him, watching his every emotion with exert attention and it heightens every feeling.

"Fernando," he whispers.

"So now we're on first name basis?"

"Put your fingers inside of me."

"I bet you'd like to be fucked in this room. The very idea of someone walking in on you acting so desperate turns you on, doesn't it?"

"You're being mean."

He laughs in his face at that, his smile widening as he continues his teasing down below. He's playing with his wetness, spreading it around, swirling his fingers yet not giving him enough to become satisfied. Fernando is busy gathering his boyfriend’s pre-cum on the tips of his fingers to care how Lance feels.

"You're supposed to be nice to me," Lance whimpers. "I brought you dinner. I was nice to you."

"You want me to fuck you," He states simply. "Don't try and twist shit around."

"But—" Lance is cut off when Fernando slips two fingers inside of him, knuckles deep, knocking the air out of his lungs. He instantly slumps against him, unable to keep himself up feeling the shallow fucking of his fingers inside of him.

Fernando's laughing again, the sound close to his ears as he shivers against him and shuts his eyes.

"Aw, look at how sensitive you are," Fernando murmurs softly against his boyfriend’s ear, lips brushing against the shell. "You're practically drooling all over me."

Lance can't respond, too deep into the pleasure as he curls his fingers with every thrust, hitting a spot inside of him that has Lance pushing his hips against him for more.

Fernando's other hand wraps around his back, anchoring Lance to him as his fingers play with his hair, pulling it away from his face so he can watch his boyfriend intently.

He's murmuring pretty words to Lance that are drowned out by the noise of his fucking.

Look how pretty you are.

You practically jumped in my lap at the idea of getting fucked.

I wonder what grade you'll earn if I fuck your hole.

Only when he slips his fingers out, bringing them up to Lance's face does he open his eyes and blink away the haze.

Fernando is opening and closing the two fingers that were inside of his boyfriend, watching the wetness string together in fascination.

Something about the way he’s so wet turns Fernando on, and he's always taking time to play with it, feel it, look at it and show Lance in attempts to embarrass him. It seems to work when his face flushes red, and he try to scramble off Fernando's lap.

But Fernando doesn't let me get far, instead twisting him around and pulling him back against his chest so he’s sat facing away from him.

He forcefully pulls his legs open so they lay over his thighs, his other hand cupping Lance's jaw controlling where he looks as he lowers his lips to his ear again and shoves his fingers in his face so he can see them once more.

"You see how wet you are, baby?"

Lance can only nod, swallowing roughly.

"I want to spread you on this desk and eat you."

A mewl sounds Lance's throat and he’s squirming in his lap, wanting to close his legs desperately as he clutched the ends of his shirt.

"But you'll be mean to me." Lance whines.

"But you like that," Fernando says feigning innocence. "You like how mean I am, the words I call you. You like the way I toss you around and fuck you the way I want."

"You're going to fuck me? He— here?" Lance look around, imagining a lecture hall with all the empty chairs and the amount of people who could fill them if they were there. That thought has him closing his legs for an entirely different reason — would Fernando continue if someone happened to walk in?

Instead of answering, Fernando decides to shove his right hand back under his pants, pushing it off of Lance, fully leaving him in his underwear.

His left hand works on his top, rifling up the material so he has better access to his chest. Lance is shaking in his hold at the feeling of fingers entering him again as Fernando plays with his nipples, twisting and panting in his boyfriend’s hold while his hips betray him and seek more.

Lance clutches desperately onto Fernando's wrist when he starts finger fucking him faster, the action too much to bare and Fernando pinches his nipple in retaliation.

Even if Lance wants to close his legs, Fernando starts to fuck him faster until he’s nothing but a broken mess slumped against him, his small pants turning into the smallest of cries.

The sound Lance is making down there has him flushed red — precum dripping down to coat his holes giving the allusion that he really is wet. Wet like a girl. Fernando continues on with his taunting as he presses a kiss to the side of his head over and over again.

"Ah— Fer... Fernando I'm—"

Fernando shifts his fingers just slightly, hitting somewhere deep inside of his boyfriend that causes the pressure in his stomach to build intensely on a new level.

"Please... please..."

"I hope someone does walk in just so they can see how desperate you are. Do you think they'll stay to watch the show? Or maybe they'll take out their phone to record you cumming all over my lap and replay it in the privacy of their own home."

"But I'm yours," Lance whimpers uselessly.

"Aw, you are mine, baby. You think I'd share your pussy with anyone else?"

His words untangle the last knot inside of him and Lance cries out his orgasm, shivering and shaking and plastering himself to Fernando's lap as he rides it out.

He’s left jolting every now and then, his hands still holding onto Fernando's wrist as he gently eases out of him to go back on his dick, gathering the new cum that spilled out of his tip so he can showcase his cum again.

It's stringing to his fingers, to his dick, creating a gigantic mess and Lance purses his lips together in a tight line, not wanting to make a sound as he shifts in his lap so he’s sideways.

Fernando brings those fingers to his mouth, sucking his boyfriend’s cum off of him and he wants to cry. Instead, Lance presses his face against his chest, curling his hands into his sweater inhaling him in.

"You let that man touch you," Lance tells him. "I wanna burn this sweater."

"I'm sorry, baby. I'll make it up to you."

"How?"

Fernandi grab a fistful of Lance's hair, twisting his head up enough so that he can lower his head and kiss him. He’s eating at his mouth, slanting his face to deepen it as his teeth nip and suck and taste him.

His boyfriend looks disheveled and soft, all sweetness and trust as he leans into him as if Fernando is his anchor. Lance's moaning into his mouth, curling against him tighter and he shifts his hands to adjust his boyfriend in his lap so he remains secure.

It feels like minutes upon minutes until they’re forced to break for air, and then Fernando is standing up with Lance in his arms and pushing the takeout bag he brought him to the side, settling him on the edge of the desk.

It seems like the coolness of the wood affects Lance since he shivers again, letting out a small breath of air. Fernando pushes apart his legs, standing in between them, and places his hands on his thighs rubbing up and down in soothing motions, hiking up the fabric of his shirt with every stroke.

Lowering his head so they’re eye level, Fernandk whispers , "Would you still like me to fuck you, Lance?"

His eyes darken, lids lowering as his lower lip curves into an adorable pout.

"In here?"

"Mhm..."

He takes his answer as a sign to hook his fingers in his boyfriend’s belt loops, pulling Fernando impossibly closer to the space between his legs before hurrying to unzip his jeans. Lance only stops when Fernando covers his hands with his own, sending Lance a sweet smile which halts his movements entirely.

"Slow down, baby." Fernandk says kindly and — like a good boy — he does, doing as he says.

Finally, when his jeans are unbuttoned and unzipped, Lance slides back on the desk and spreads his legs further, tilting his hips in his direction.

Fernando easily takes the lead, pushing down his jeans and boxers enough to pull out his dick and bring it near the boy before him.

Fernando watches in shuddering movements as Lance reaches down between his spread legs, grasping the damp fabric between his fingers and pulling it down his legs so his boyfriend can have easy access to where he wants him the most.

The action is the hottest thing Fernando had seen him do, that combined with yanking up his shirt to his waist has Fernando holding back a groan.

With a step forward, Fernando pressed the tip of his dick to his entrance, his other hand holding down his shaky thigh keeping Lance plastered to the desk.

He easily reached behind his boyfriend, grabbing a bottle of lube and pouring it on his dick.

Fernando takes this moment to watch his boyfriend watch him, his eyes directed to the space between them, his lower lip rolled into his mouth as a means to hold off his pretty sounds, his eyes widening just enough so that Lance can see how fucking precious he is.

After what feels like centuries does Fernando move again, moving his hips slowly and pushing into him, pausing so Lance can adjust to his size. Lance lets out the cutest noise — a muffled cry as his head falls forward to press against his boyfriend’s chest breathing heavily.

"You alright, mi sol? You okay?" Fernando breathes out, stroking his thigh in kind movements.

Lance gives him a jerky nod, urging Fernando to continue with a tilt to his hips. Fernandk nods back, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before giving Lance another inch.

The process continues until he’s fully inside of Lance, hips flushed together and the only thing that separates them is the minimal amount of air.

Lance's forehead is still pressed against his boyfriend’s chest, his hands still curled into his sweater while Fernando's are resting on his hips, holding him close.

"Talk to me, Lance. Tell me how you feel." Fernando urges, pressing kiss after kiss to his hair. Lance is  breathing heavily, his body jerking and every minuscule movement from him has Fernando holding back a moan.

Slowly, in lethargic form, does he lift his head and look up at his boyfriend, his face tired and skin damp.

"Can you record me?"

Fernando pauses, looking down at his lover not sure if I heard him correctly.

"What?"

His fingers curl tighter into his sweater, a flush growing on Lance's pretty face. "Will you record you fucking me? Just so I can... just so I have something."

Fernando removes his hands from his legs, cupping his face in his hands to make sure he didn't accidentally fuck something loose in his head.

"You want me to record you getting fucked?"

Lance nods, looking painfully shy and Fernando's heart expands at the desolate look in his eyes — as if he’s scared that Fernando will judge him.

"Grab me your phone, baby."

"You won't record with yours?"

Fernandk shakes his head, stroking Lance's hair and pressing a kiss to his lips.

"I care for you so much, Lancito. So much. And I know you trust me, of course I trust you, too. But this is something private. And if you want your body recorded, it'll always be on your phone so you know where it is and you have it safe. Do you understand?"

Lance smiles. "I understand, Nando." And then he’s reaching for his pocket, slipping his phone out and handing it to him in shaky movements.

Fernando takes it from Lance easily, looking at him once again just to confirm that this is what he wants and he nods making Fernando type in his passcode and press the camera app.

Lance lays back down on the desk, shivering with need when Fernando let out a small groan at his movements and press record, positioning the phone so that his entire body is focused.

Lance's shy at first, bringing up his arm to cover his face which is fine with Fernando since this is going at his boyfriend’s pace.

When he feels secure with everything, Fernando lets out a breath of air before grasping onto Lance's waist with his free hand and sliding him all the way to the edge of the desk so he has a better hold on him.

"I'm going to move, sweetie." Fernando murmurs in warning, and when Lance nods he starts to thrust inside him. In and out and in and out until he’s crying out again.

Lance's back arches, lifting off the wood thrusting his chest near his boyfriend and Fernando slides his hand up, yanking up the top of his shirt so he can access them.

Fernando immediately cups them in his hands, squeezing roughly, strumming his thumb up and down his nipple before giving it a sharp pinch.

Lance squeals, bringing his knees up making Fernando take his hand away for a second to send a sharp slap to the inside of his thigh.

"Put your legs down." Fernando says roughly, trying to hold back his orgasm as best as he can. Lance complies immediately, sending his boyfriend a pout making Fernando grip his face in his hand, squishing his cheeks together while he continues to thrust.

"You're a fucking brat." Fernando hisses at him, and instead of apologizing Lance smiles, making Fernando lean down and kiss him roughly.

His hand slides to his neck, fingers curling around Lance's throat not squeezing but letting him know that he would be taking the lead.

It's hard to record him and kiss him at the same time but Fernando makes it work, and when he’s done he pulls away to a dazed Lance holding onto his sweater trying to yank him back.

Instead, Fernando continues to create distance between them, slowing down his movements and fucking him nice and deep, jolting his body with every thrust.

Lance gasps every time, mouth parting, eyes glazing, and his fingers start to grow lax on his body.

"Fer," Lance's moaning again, begging his boyfriend to speed up. Fernando can tell he’s close to the edge, close to reaching another climax which is why he wants to draw it out as punishment.

"What is it, baby?" Fernando taunts. “Am I not fucking you the way you want?" Lance shakes his head, going to say something when he gets cut off. " Too fucking bad."

That earns Fernando a charming little tantrum as Lance yanks at his sweater, squeezes his legs around his boyfriend to pull him closer, arches his back to shove him in deeper.

Fernando scowls down at Lance knowing what he’s doing, but it soon turns into a smile as an idea forms in hid head. Clasping under his knee, Fernando spreads his leg enough so he can bury himself further into him and fuck him like that.

Lance's whining and whimpering, squirming and clawing at Fernando's chest when his boyfriend forces his eyes to open, hanging his head and letting out soft moans as he lets himself reach an orgasm.

Lance's cries echo across the room, no doubt reaching every crevice of the house and Fernando lets out a curse.

"Fuck— fuck, Lance... you're such a fucking brat. Look at how pathetic you are dripping all over my cock... Fuck , baby you're so sweet."

Fernando's cum spills into him, and with his hips tilted Fernando was able to fuck it deep into Lance's hole. The idea to plug it closed filled with his cum enters his mind, and he has to grit his teeth before he does something about it.

Fernando lets himself ride it out, slowing down his thrusts before setting his phone down so it's leaning against the takeout bag, pointing in his direction.

With a groan, Fernando pulls out of him and heaves out a breath, and Lance sits up and looks at his boyfriend incredulously when Fernando sits back down on the chair and leans his head back to catch his breath.

"But... but I didn't—"

"Since you decided to be in charge, sit on my fucking dick and make yourself come."

Lance's mouth gapes open as he looks down at the spot between his legs, one that is currently dripping full of his cum and he notices from my peripheral vision that Fernando is smirking to himself.

With a glare his way, Lance does just that, slipping off the desk and crawling into his lap once more. Pressing his forehead against Fernando's shoulder, he looks between his legs and grasps his boyfriend’s dick in his hands, stroking it a few times on purpose making him hiss at the sensitivity before aligning it with his entrance and sinking down.

Lance's face turns to press into his neck, small pants leaving his mouth again as both of his hands grasp Fernando's shoulders for stability.

Fernando is doing nothing to help him, his hands laying on the armrests as Lance grinds in circles on his dick. All in hopes of cumming one last time.

His eyes squeeze shut, his cries muffled, and Lance turns his head so his mouth is at Fernando's jaw, biting his chin in retaliation for doing this to him as he takes one hand off his shoulder and shove it between them, grasping his dick.

Instead of getting angry, Fernando laughs at his boyfriend’s visible frustration, and he starts murmuring things that make Lance want to cry.

"You need to cum that badly? God, you're pathetic."

"I want to hit you very very badly," Lance tells him in a whine, for the first time wishing he'd shut up.

Fernando flickers his eyes from Lance's face to his body, noticing the pathetic fucking he’s currently doing and smiles to himself.

"Do you need my help, Lancito?"

"I need you to stop talking."

"Aw, I thought you needed me. Was that a lie?"

Lance lets out a noise deep in his throat akin to a growl, and clasps a hand over Fernando's mouth so he stops. When he doesn't fight Lance on staying silent, he finally allows himself to take it slow and fuck himself thoroughly on his cock, stroking his dick at a pressure he likes and pressing his face back against his neck.

Breathing him in, Lance starts to moan when his orgasm starts building up again, feeling himself grow slack and exhausted and Fernando lets out a sigh, feigning annoyance before he can feel his hands grab Lance's waist and finally help him fuck himself on him.

Lance keeps his face hidden, his hands going under Fernando's sweater and clawing at his skin to punish him further. Fernando then tilts his hips and slams him down roughly in retaliation.

Lance cries out, Fernando's hand knocking his own away as he gives his boyfriend a rough stroke and finally, finally is Lance able cum all over him.

"There you go, baby." Fernando says in a soft, sweet voice. "You look so pretty, Lance."

Lance feels exhausted, staying slumped on him trying to breathe properly again as Fernando rubs his back, kisses the top of his boyfriend’s head over and over again, strokes his hair and whispers the sweetest words to him.

Fernando hugs him to his chest, keeps him secured there until Lance is able to sit up, wincing at the friction with Fernando still inside of him.

"I'm going to pull out, alright, baby? Just give me a second."

Fernando easily lifts his boyfriend off of him, setting Lance down on his thighs seeing the mess of cum all over him. He easily reaches for the tissue box on the desk, cleaning himself thoroughly and tucking himself away before grabbing another and doing the same for Lance.

After helping Lance back into his clothes, Fernando cups his face in his hands and presses a slow, soft kiss to his lips.

"Are you alright, Lance? Talk to me. Tell me how you feel."

"I feel good, Nando. Don't worry."

He kisses Lance again, this time a bit more firmly before pulling away and murmuring, "I already told you before. I like worrying about you." Lance smiles tiredly at him, hugging him — needing the comfort of his arms.

Lance can hear Fernando fumble with his phone before a sound chimes signalling the end of the recording. Setting his phone back down, Fernando rubs his back again.

"Let's eat in a bit, alright?” Lance can only nod slowly, movements lethargic.

"Will you still kill him, Nano?"

Fernando laughs. “I’ll think about it.”

A few hours later the silence between them was bromen when Fernando shut his laptop with a click, standing from the chair in his makeshift office. He glanced over at Lance, who sat curled up on the couch, looking smaller than usual in the oversized hoodie he changed into — complaining about feeling icky in his other clothes. His eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion, but he smiled faintly when Fernando held out a hand.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Fernando murmured. “Let’s go eat.”

Lance took his hand without hesitation, letting Fernando pull him to his feet. He leaned against him as they walked through the quiet apartment, their footsteps soft on the hardwood floor.

The house smelled faintly of coffee and books — the scent of late nights and quiet moments, a sanctuary that had become their secret world. Fernando grabbed the takeout bags from the kitchen counter, balancing them with one hand as he kept his other arm securely around Lance.

“Back to your room?” Fernando asked gently.

Lance nodded, his cheek resting briefly against Fernando’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

They made their way down the hall to Lance’s room, slipping inside and closing the door behind them. Fernando set the food on the desk, unpacking the food lance had bought earlier. They ate in comfortable silence, sitting side by side on the bed. Fernando passed Lance a water bottle, brushing his fingers over Lance’s hand as he did.

Lance leaned into him, the weight of the day slipping away with every gentle touch. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed this — the quiet, the closeness, the feeling of being cared for. “You’re too good to me,” Lance murmured, resting his head on Fernando’s shoulder.

"No, Lancito," Fernando pressed a kiss to his hair. “You deserve it.”

They sat there for a while, the room dimly lit by the bedside lamp. Eventually, Lance set his plate aside and curled into Fernando’s side, closing his eyes. “You’re falling asleep on me,” Fernando teased, running his fingers through Lance’s hair.

“Can’t help it,” Lance mumbled. “You make me comfortable.”

Fernando’s chest tightened at the words, a surge of protectiveness washing over him. He tilted Lance’s chin up, kissing him softly, lingering for a moment before pulling back.

“I should go,” Fernando whispered, his voice regretful.

Lance’s eyes fluttered open, sleepy and affectionate. “Stay.”

“I can’t, cariño. Your father might come home early.” Lance sighed but nodded. He sat up, watching as Fernando stood and grabbed his jacket.

At the door, Fernando turned back to him. “I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Okay.”

Fernando leaned down for one last kiss, lingering at the doorway. “Sweet dreams, Lancito.”

Lance smiled softly. “You too, Nano.” As the door clicked shut, Lance lay back on his bed, pulling the blanket up to his chin. The room felt a little emptier without Fernando, but his warmth lingered.

And for now, that was enough.

Lance woke to the soft hum of voices downstairs. The late morning sun streamed through his window, warming the blankets tangled around his legs. He blinked groggily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before glancing at his phone — no messages from Fernando yet, but that wasn’t what caught his attention.

It was the familiar deep laugh coming from the living room.

Lance’s heart skipped a beat. His dad was home.

Throwing the covers aside, he scrambled out of bed, barely stopping to slip on pants before dashing out of his room. His footsteps echoed in the hallway as he rushed down the stairs, the sound of his father’s voice growing clearer with each step.

When he reached the bottom, there he was — Lawrence, standing in the living room with a wide grin on his face, talking animatedly on the phone.

“Dad!” Lance’s voice was bright with excitement.

Lawrence turned, his eyes lighting up as he saw his son. “Lance!” He was quick to mute the phone, setting it aside as if the conversation meant nothing in comparison to his son.

Without hesitation, Lance ran across the room, throwing his arms around his father. The hug was tight, warm, and filled with all the unspoken things Lance hadn’t been able to say since Lawrence left on his business trip.

“I missed you,” Lance mumbled against his father’s shoulder. It was true, even though growing up made them drift apart, it was never enough to stop Lance from missing his favourite man in the world.

Lawrence chuckled, holding him close. “I missed you too, kid. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” Lance said quickly, pulling back to look at his dad. His heart ached with guilt at the lie — he hadn’t been good. He’d been sneaking around with Fernando, breaking promises, and keeping secrets. But in this moment, all he wanted was to feel like a kid again, safe in his father’s arms.

“You’ve grown,” Lawrence teased, ruffling Lance’s hair like he used to when Lance was little — like he still does despite the similarity in their height. “What are they feeding you at school?”

Lawrence beamed, the weight of the past few months lifting from his shoulders as he took in the view of his son. For the first time in a while, Lance felt a pang of guilt — he knew how much his dad loved him, how much he wanted to protect them. And yet, Lance was hiding one of the biggest parts of his life from him.

“So,” Lawrence said, his attention still fully on Lance, “what do you say we catch up over lunch? Just the two of us?”

Lance’s stomach twisted. He hadn’t expected this — hadn’t prepared for the possibility of being alone with his dad so soon after Fernando’s departure.

But he smiled, nodding quickly. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Good.” Lawrence clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Go get ready, then. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Lance nodded again, his heart pounding as he made his way back upstairs. As he passed by his room, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Fernando:

Good morning, Lancito.

How did you sleep?

Lance stared at the message for a long moment before typing back a quick reply.

Lance:

Morning.

Dad’s home.

I’ll text you later.

The café they went to wasn’t far from home, a cozy little spot Lance remembered from when he was younger. His dad used to take him and Chloe there on weekends, and stepping inside now felt oddly nostalgic.

Lawrence chose a table near the window, and they sat in comfortable silence as they waited for their food. Lance sipped at his iced coffee, trying to keep his nerves in check. His father seemed relaxed, though, and that made Lance feel a little better.

“You’ve grown up a lot, you know,” Lawrence said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was warm, affectionate. “I’m proud of you.”

Lance looked up, surprised by the unexpected praise. “Thanks, Dad.”

Lawrence leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I know I’ve been away a lot lately. Business has been… complicated. But things are finally settling down.”

Lance nodded slowly, unsure where this was going.

“I’ve got good news,” Lawrence continued, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “We’re expanding the team — new facilities, new investments. And Aston Martin wants me to spend more time at the main building instead of overseas.”

Lance blinked. “Wait — you mean, you’ll be around more?”

“Exactly.” Lawrence smiled. “I’ll be home more often, working closer with the team. And I want you to be involved, too.”

Lance’s heart skipped a beat. “Involved? How?”

“More appearances at events, more behind-the-scenes work. You’ve always loved racing, and I'm trying to work some things out with buying Williams next season. We can build something together.”

Lance stared at his dad, a mixture of emotions swirling in his chest. He’d always wanted to spend more time with his father — to be closer to him. But now, with everything happening with Fernando, the idea of being under his dad’s watchful eye made him uneasy.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Lance admitted, setting his coffee down. “That sounds amazing.”

Lawrence chuckled. “It is. And it’s about time we did this, don’t you think?”

Lance nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Definitely.”

Their food arrived then, giving Lance a moment to gather his thoughts. As he picked at his sandwich, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of his secret pressing down on him. His dad was offering him a chance to be closer, to be part of something important — and yet, Lance was hiding one of the biggest parts of his life.

“I know things haven’t been easy for you,” Lawrence said, breaking into his thoughts. “But you’ve handled everything with maturity. I’m proud of the man you’re becoming.”

Lance swallowed hard, his chest tight with emotion. “Thanks, Dad.”

Lawrence reached across the table, squeezing his son’s hand. “We’ve got a bright future ahead of us, Lance. I’m excited to see where it takes us.”

Lance nodded, his smile faltering only slightly. “Me too.”

But as they finished their meal and left the café, Lance couldn’t shake the feeling of dread settling in his stomach. His dad was home, everything was changing — and somehow, Lance had to figure out how to keep Fernando in his life without destroying everything his father had planned for them.

When Lance and Lawrence returned home, the house was peaceful, with a soft hum of life that Lance had missed while his dad was away. His heart felt lighter after their lunch, though a part of him was still weighed down by the growing complexity of his secret life with Fernando.

Lawrence gave his son a warm clap on the shoulder as they walked through the door. “Think about what we discussed today. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“I will, Dad,” Lance promised.

Lawrence gave a nod, satisfied, before heading to his office. As soon as he was out of sight, Lance sighed in relief, letting himself collapse onto the couch. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a group chat lighting up with messages.

Charles: Lance!!!!! Clubbing! Tonight! Don’t try to say no.

Esteban: Yea, we’re dragging you out if we have to.

Jessica: You’ve been MIA lately, Lance. Time to make up for it. xx

Zhou: Don’t worry guys! The club DOES play Beyoncé for anyone who wasn't sure.

Lance chuckled, shaking his head. His friends never let him get too lost in his thoughts for too long. He’d been avoiding them lately, wrapped up in his secret relationship with Fernando, but now he realized how much he missed them.

Lance: Fine. Where are we going?

The responses came instantly.

Charles: We’ll pick you up at 10.

Esteban: Dress nice. No excuses!!

Lance smiled at the screen, grateful for his friends. He shot a quick glance toward his dad’s office, making sure he wasn’t coming back out, before texting Fernando.

Lance: Going out with Cha and the others tonight. Don’t worry about me.

Fernando’s reply came quickly.

Fernando: Be careful, Lancito. I’m always worrying.

Lance’s heart gave a little flutter. He grinned at the message before heading upstairs to get ready.

At exactly 10 p.m., a car pulled up outside the Stroll house, and Lance slipped out quietly, his dad already aware of his plans. Charles was in the driver’s seat, with Esteban riding shotgun. Zhou and Jessica waved from the back, grinning at him.

“Finally!” Charles said as Lance slid into the car. “Thought we’d have to break in and kidnap you.”

Lance laughed. “Sorry. It’s been… a weird day.”

“Weird how?” Jessica asked, leaning over the seat to look at him.

Lance shrugged. “Family stuff.”

Esteban shot him a knowing look. “Well, whatever it is, forget about it tonight. We’re going to have fun.”

As Charles pulled away from the house, music blaring through the speakers, Lance felt a rush of excitement. For the first time in weeks, he was going out without worrying about anyone finding out his secret.

For now, he could just be Lance.

The night started harmlessly enough.

Lance had agreed to join Esteban, Charles, Jessica, and Zhou for a night out at one of the trendiest clubs in town. He hadn’t been out in ages, too preoccupied with balancing classes and… well, Fernando. His friends had teased him about it all week — how he was turning into a hermit, how he never had time for them anymore.

So, when Jessica texted him earlier that day, he couldn’t find a reason to say no.

The club was packed, the music thumping so loud Lance could feel it in his chest. The lights pulsed in time with the beat, casting neon colors over the crowd. For the first time in weeks, Lance felt like he could let loose. The drinks were flowing, and with each one, the tension in his shoulders eased.

Charles and Zhou were in high spirits, dancing with anyone who came near. Jessica was at the center of it all, laughing as Esteban twirled her around. Lance found himself smiling, grateful to be surrounded by familiar faces.

“Come on, Lance!” Charles shouted over the music, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the dance floor.

Lance went along, laughing as he stumbled into the crowd. He let himself get lost in the moment, moving to the music, the bass vibrating through his body.

But as the night wore on, the alcohol hit harder, and his mind began to wander.

Fernando.

No matter how hard he tried to focus on the music, on his friends, his thoughts kept drifting back to his professor. To the way Fernando had kissed him before he left his office that afternoon, slow and lingering, like he didn’t want to let him go. To the way Fernando always seemed to know exactly what Lance needed, whether it was a reassuring touch or a whispered word of encouragement.

Lance’s chest tightened. He missed him.

Before he realized what he was doing, he found himself sitting at the bar, phone in hand. His fingers hovered over Fernando’s contact.

He shouldn’t.

Fernando had told him to be careful. They needed to keep things discreet.

But Lance couldn’t help it. The drinks made him bold, made him reckless. He gave in, typing out a message.

Lance: Miss you, Nando. Wish you were here.

He barely waited for a response before calling.

Fernando picked up after the second ring. "Lance?"

"Nando!" Lance slurred, grinning. "I’m out with my friends. Este, Cha... uhm. Nando who are my other friends? Zhou, and Jess. You know them, right?"

Fernando chuckled softly. "Yes, sweetie. I know of them." He's well aware of who all his students are. "Are you drunk?"

"Maybe a little." Lance giggled, leaning his head on his hand. "I just wanted to hear your voice."

Fernando’s heart softened at the sound. "It’s late, Lancito. You should be heading home."

"But I want to tell you about my day!" Lance protested. "We had this crazy exam, and Cha, he's silly y'know, Nando? Uhm, well, Cha said I was acting distracted — and, well, I was, because I was thinking about you."

"Lance," Fernando sighed, a smile tugging at his lips. "Where are you?"

Lance glanced around the crowded club, squinting at a sign. "Uh… somewhere near downtown? I don’ really know, Cha's big brother drove us here."

Fernando shook his head, already grabbing his keys. "Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you."

Lance beamed. "Really?"

"Of course," Fernando said softly. "I’ve got you."

By the time Fernando arrived, Lance was standing outside the club with Charles and Esteban, swaying slightly on his feet.

"Your ride’s here," Charles teased, nudging Lance.

Lance lit up when he saw Fernando approaching. "Nando!"

Fernando caught him as he stumbled forward, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Let’s get you home."

As they walked to Fernando’s car, Lance leaned heavily against him, his voice soft. "I missed you."

Fernando pressed a kiss to Lance’s temple. "I missed you too."

Once they were in the car, Lance sighed contentedly, resting his head on Fernando’s shoulder. "I’m glad you came."

Fernando smiled, starting the engine. "I always will, Lancito. Always."

Fernando’s house was quiet, a comforting contrast to the chaos of the club. Lance stumbled through the front door, leaning on the smaller man for support, still giggling softly.

“Y'really didn’ have to come,” Lance murmured as they entered the living room, his voice quieter now.

Fernando smirked, closing the door behind them. “Yes, I did. I couldn’t leave you like that.”

Lance let out a content sigh as Fernando guided him toward the bedroom. The moment they crossed the threshold, Fernando began undressing him. Lance stood still, letting Fernando pull his shirt over his head before helping him out of his jeans.

"You take such good care of me," Lance whispered, his voice soft and sincere.

Fernando smiled, gently brushing a hand through Lance’s hair. "Someone has to."

Once Lance was down to his boxers, Fernando helped him into bed, tucking him under the covers with a care that made Lance’s chest ache. Fernando quickly undressed, his shirt and pants hitting the floor in a careless pile before he slid in beside him. The bed dipped as Fernando settled next to him, his arm instinctively wrapping around Lance's waist, pulling him close until there wasn’t an inch of space between them.

Lance sighed contentedly, resting his head on Fernando's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The sound was soothing, grounding him in the moment — in the warmth and safety of Fernando’s embrace.

“I love this,” Lance whispered, his voice quiet but filled with meaning.

Fernando kissed the top of his head, his lips lingering against Lance’s soft hair. “I do too.”

Lance shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look at Fernando. His sleepy, glassy eyes held an unusual vulnerability, the alcohol still lingering in his system loosening his tongue.

“No, I mean… Nando, I love you.”

The words hung in the air between them, soft but unmistakably clear.

Fernando froze, his heart skipping a beat. His mind raced as he processed what Lance had just said. It wasn’t something he had expected to hear — not yet, at least.

Lance’s smile wavered, a flicker of nervousness passing through his eyes. “Do you not—?”

Before Lance could finish, Fernando shook his head quickly, his expression softening as he reached up to cup Lance’s cheek. His thumb brushed over Lance’s cheekbone, a tender touch meant to reassure.

“No, no, Lance, it’s not that.” Fernando’s voice was low, full of emotion. He leaned up, capturing Lance’s lips in a kiss that was slow and meaningful, a silent promise conveyed through the press of their mouths.

The kiss deepened naturally, their movements slow and deliberate, savoring each moment. Lance melted into it, his fingers threading through Fernando’s hair, pulling him closer. Fernando’s hand slid from Lance’s cheek down to his waist, fingers tracing the curve of his hip before slipping under the blanket.

As their lips parted, Fernando gazed into Lance’s eyes, his own dark with affection and desire. “I love you too,” he murmured, brushing his nose against Lance’s before kissing him again, more insistently this time.

Lance moaned softly into Fernando’s mouth, his hands wandering over his shoulders and down his back, mapping the familiar planes of his body. His heart was racing, but it wasn’t from nerves — it was from the sheer thrill of hearing those words back.

Fernando rolled them over gently, his body pressing Lance into the mattress. Their kisses grew more heated, lips and tongues tangling as their hands roamed freely. Fernando’s fingers skimmed along Lance’s sides, tracing the muscles there, his touch lighting a fire beneath Lance’s skin.

Lance arched into him, craving more of that contact, his body responding eagerly to every touch. His hands wandered lower, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of Fernando’s boxers, pulling him even closer.

“Te quiero tanto,” Fernando whispered against Lance’s lips, his Spanish accent making the words sound like music.

Lance shivered at the sound, pulling Fernando down for another kiss. “I want you,” he whispered between kisses, his voice breathless and needy. “I want all of you.”

“You have me,” Fernando promised, his voice hoarse as he kissed his way down Lance’s jawline and along his neck, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin. “You’ve always had me.”

Lance grinned, his eyes fluttering shut as he nestled back into Fernando’s arms — lightheartedly shutting down any advances as he registered just how sleepy he was. "Good. Now I can sleep happy."

Fernando chuckled, holding him close — more than satisfied with ending his night like this. "Sweet dreams, Lancito."

And as Lance drifted off, Fernando knew he would never let go of this moment — or of the boy in his arms. Not without a fight.

Lance jolted awake, heart pounding as the sunlight streamed through the curtains. He sat up quickly, the covers slipping down his bare chest, and groaned when he realized his phone wasn’t on the nightstand. “Shit,” he muttered, scrambling out of bed and searching frantically for it.

Fernando stirred beside him, his eyes fluttering open. “What’s wrong?”

“My phone’s dead,” Lance said, grabbing it from the floor where it had fallen. “And my dad was expecting me home last night.”

Fernando sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Calm down. We’ll get you home.”

Lance nodded, biting his lip as he plugged his phone in to charge for a moment. When it didn’t turn on immediately, he groaned in frustration. “I’m so fucked," and Fernando didn't bother to scold the boy.

The drive to Lance’s house was quiet, tension thick in the air. Fernando occasionally glanced at Lance, who was nervously tapping his fingers on his knee. As they pulled up in front of the Stroll mansion, Lance finally let out a shaky breath. “Thanks for driving me.”

Fernando reached out, squeezing Lance’s hand. “Anytime.”

Lance leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to Fernando’s lips. “I’ll see you later.”

“Text me,” Fernando said with a smile, watching as Lance opened the car door.

“I will,” Lance promised.

As soon as Fernando’s car pulled away, Lance took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. He walked up the steps to his house, heart pounding. His key slipped in the lock, and he quietly stepped inside, hoping to sneak past without anyone noticing. No such luck.

The moment the door shut behind him, his father’s voice boomed from the living room. “Lance!” Lance froze, wincing at the sheer volume of Lawrence’s shout. His father stormed into view, his face red with fury.

“Where the hell were you?” Lawrence demanded, fists clenched. “I waited all night, and you didn’t bother to call!”

“I—” Lance opened his mouth to explain, but Lawrence cut him off.

“And what the fuck did I just see outside?” Lawrence’s eyes blazed with anger. “You kissed him. Your professor. Do you have any idea what kind of scandal this could cause? Have you forgotten who we are?”

Lance’s stomach dropped. He hadn’t realized his dad had seen. “It’s not—”

“Don’t you dare tell me it’s not what it looked like,” Lawrence snapped. “Because it damn well looked like you’re messing around with some man who could ruin your career before it’s even started. With a man who's career I could ruin if I decided to bring light of this.”

Lance’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, really?” Lawrence crossed his arms. “Then what is it? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve been sneaking around behind my fucking back.”

“It’s not your business who I’m with!” Lance shot back, frustration boiling over. “I’m an adult, Dad. You don’t get to control every part of my life.”

“You’re my freshly nineteen year old son,” Lawrence hissed. “And you’re making a damn fool of yourself.”

Lance took a step forward, meeting his father’s gaze. “I love him.” That stopped Lawrence in his tracks.

“You what?”

“I love him,” Lance repeated, voice steady. “And nothing you say is going to change that.”

"Jesus Christ, Lance." Lawrence stared at him for a long moment, chest heaving, before shaking his head in disbelief. “You’ve completely lost your mind.”

“No, I haven’t,” Lance said firmly. “For the first time in my life, I know exactly what I want. And I’m not going to let you take it away from me.” Lawrence’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening as he took a step closer to Lance.

“You’re not going to let me take it away?” Lawrence’s voice was low and dangerous. “We’ll see about that.” Before Lance could react, Lawrence reached out and snatched his phone from his hand.

“Hey!” Lance protested, lunging for it, but his father stepped back.

“You’ve clearly proven you can’t be trusted.” Lawrence’s tone was cold as he slipped the phone into his pocket. “And I’m not about to sit by while you throw your future away for some fling with a grown ass man who should fucking know better.”

“It’s not a fling,” Lance argued, frustration boiling over. “I love him.”

“And I’m your father,” Lawrence snapped. “And as long as you live under my roof, you’ll do as I say.” Lawrence turned on his heel, grabbing Lance’s car keys from the hook by the door. “Your car privileges? Gone. Your phone? Gone. And as for school…” He pulled out his own phone, already dialing. “We’re fixing that right now.”

“Fixing?” Lance’s chest tightened with dread. “Dad, stop it, what are you talking about?”

Lawrence gave him a cold glance as the call connected. “Yes ma'am, yes it's Lawrence. I need to speak with Ms. Sally Kornbluth immediately. It’s urgent.”

“Dad, no!” Lance’s voice rose in panic.

Lawrence held up a hand to silence him. “Yes, of course i’ll hold.”

Lance took a step forward, desperation clawing at him. “You can’t do this.”

“Fucking watch me.”

The call reconnected, and Lawrence’s expression softened into polite professionalism, though his tone remained firm. “Good evening, Sally. I hope your day has started off better than mine. I'm calling regarding my son, Lance Stroll. I need to make some changes to his class schedule… Yes, that’s right. I’d like all his in-person classes switched to online immediately. He's found himself in quite the predicament and if he wants to graduate on time and with honours it'll only be possible if he begins learning from our home.” Lance’s stomach dropped as he watched his father’s plan unfold, powerless to stop it.

“Thank you,” Lawrence continued. “And I’d like his access to extracurricular activities suspended for the time being. Yes… Yes, That will be all. Thank you so much for your time, Sally.”

As he ended the call, Lawrence turned back to Lance, his expression unreadable. “You’re grounded. No car, no phone, and no more in-person distractions. You’ll focus on your studies from home.”

Lance’s fists clenched. “You’re trying to control my life.”

“I’m protecting you from yourself,” Lawrence said coldly. “Now, go to your room.”

Lance stared at him, anger and heartbreak swirling in his chest. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand more than you think,” Lawrence said, his voice softer but no less firm. “Now. Go.” With a final glare, Lance turned and stomped up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door behind him. Lance fell backwards onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind spinning with frustration and helplessness. The silence in the house felt suffocating, broken only by the occasional creak of floorboards or the faint hum of distant traffic.

His phone? Gone. His car? Gone. His freedom? Completely taken from him.

The weight of Lawrence’s words replayed in his mind. “You’ll do as I say.” Lance clenched his fists. He hated how powerless he felt, trapped under his father’s control like he was a kid again. His chest ached with the desperate need to reach out to Fernando, to explain everything, to hear his voice — but there was nothing he could do.

He glanced at the window. No phone. No car. I’m stuck. He had thought about climbing out earlier, but Lawrence had been one step ahead. The window was now locked from the outside. Even if he managed to sneak out, his father had likely alerted the house staff.

The doorknob rattled, and Lance sat up abruptly as Lawrence stepped inside without knocking — just one of many priviliges he would come to realize Lawrence felt as though he no longer deserved. “Dinner’s ready,” Lawrence said curtly. “You’ll be eating with me.”

“I’m not hungry,” Lance muttered.

“That wasn’t a suggestion, Lance.” His father practically growled, "get up and come downstairs." Lance glared at his father but stood anyway, following him downstairs like a prisoner on a leash.

The dining room was painfully formal. The table stretched between them like a chasm, both of them sitting in tense silence as the kitchen staff set their plates down. Lawrence watched Lance carefully. “You’re not speaking to him anymore.”

Lance’s grip on his fork tightened. “You can’t control that.”

“I can, and I will.” Lawrence’s voice was cold. “I’ve spoken with the head of his department as well as with Ms. Kornbluth again. They’ve agreed to monitor your activity. Any attempt to contact him through university channels will be flagged and will result in him losing his job automatically.”

Lance’s heart sank. “You had no right—”

“I have every right,” Lawrence cut him off. “I’m not going to let you ruin your life for some—” He stopped, his lip curling. “Some pathetic affair.”

Lance slammed his fork down. “It’s not an affair! I love him.”

“That’s enough.” Lawrence’s voice was a low growl. “You don’t know what love is.”

Lance stood abruptly, his chair scraping back. “I know more than you ever will.”

Lawrence rose too, his towering figure intimidating as he loomed over Lance. “You will not defy me again.”

Lance’s chest heaved with emotion, but he held his ground. “I’m not a kid.”

“Then I expect you to start acting like a man,” Lawrence snapped. “And forget about him.”

Lance shook his head, his voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath. “I won’t.”

Lawrence’s expression twisted, his frustration boiling over. His shoulders sagged as he ran a hand through his hair, his composure slipping. He looked at his son — really looked at him — and something in his eyes softened with a hint of desperation.

“You are just a boy, Lance,” Lawrence whispered, his voice trembling. His eyes glistened, and he blinked rapidly, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. “You are my boy.”

Lance froze, the weight of his father’s words hanging heavy in the air.

Lawrence’s jaw clenched, and his voice broke slightly as he continued, “And that man… that man is closer to my age than yours. Don’t you see how wrong this is?”

Lance’s chest tightened, but he shook his head again, his heart pounding. “It’s not wrong. I’m not a kid, Dad. I know what I’m doing.”

Lawrence let out a bitter laugh, wiping a hand over his face. “You think you know what you’re doing? You have no idea, Lance.” His voice cracked, revealing the pain beneath his anger. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to protect you from people who would take advantage of you. People like him.”

“No one’s taking advantage of me,” Lance said quietly, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “I love him. And he loves me.”

Lawrence stared at his son, a tear slipping down his cheek. He quickly brushed it away, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“You think this is love?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “You’ve barely lived, Lance. You don’t know what love is. You don’t know what it means to build a life, to face the consequences of choices like this.”

“I know more than you think,” Lance said softly. “And I know that keeping me locked away isn’t going to change how I feel.”

Lawrence shook his head, pacing the room like a man trying to outrun his own thoughts. “You’re too young to make a decision like this. You don’t see the danger—”

“The only danger,” Lance interrupted, “is you tearing me away from the person I care about.”

Lawrence stopped pacing, his shoulders slumping in defeat. For a moment, he looked older, worn down by the weight of fatherhood and fear.

“I just… I don’t want to lose you,” Lawrence whispered.

“You’re not losing me,” Lance said softly. “But if you keep this up… you will.”

Lawrence’s gaze lingered on his son for a long moment before he turned away, retreating toward the door. His hand hovered over the doorknob, trembling.

“You’ll understand one day,” he said, voice low and filled with sorrow. “When you have a child of your own.”

With that, he walked out, leaving Lance standing alone, the echoes of their conversation hanging heavy in the air.

Hours passed, the house dark and still. Lance sat on his bed, staring at the dead phone his father had confiscated earlier. His mind drifted to Fernando — to the way his arms felt like home, the way his voice softened when he said Lance’s name, the way he made him feel seen. But now, Lance was alone. Trapped. Helpless. Cut off from the one person who made him feel alive.

He lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His chest ached with longing, and anger simmered beneath the surface, but what could he do? His father had locked him in a cage, and all he could do was wait. A quiet knock on the bedroom door broke the silence, followed by the soft creak of it opening. Lance sat up, surprised to see his sister, Chloe, standing there, one hand resting on her belly.

“Chlo?” Lance blinked in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

Chloe gave him a tired smile as she stepped inside, closing the door gently behind her. “I heard what happened. Mom called me.”

(next)