#another year older and this girl is wiser

[honeyed-cherries]

kinda want to live in a van for three months so i can go camping but for three months

[astronomalyy]

Thinking about the lifespans of Dungeon Meshi elves... The fact that they're completely unnatural alters my brain chemistry, because you can tell just how haphazardly the demon implemented their wish. They live five times the length of tall-men, so they age at a fifth of their rate. It's simple maths and the implications are terrifying. No wonder their birth rate and population are declining - their early development is so slow that at the age of two, they're still unable to stand.

They don't reach adulthood until their eighties. What does the infant mortality look like? How many elves succumb to illness or injury before they're fully mature? It only takes one accident to lose the child you've been raising for decades - and could you bring yourself to care for another? Add to that the implication elf culture has no idea how to process grief... just look at the way the Canaries treat Rin after the death of her parents. They're callous and insensitive and detached - part of that's racism, but there's also an element of pure cold ignorance. They don't even recognise the emotion on her face.

And that's just scratching the surface... does elven memory accommodate their extended lifespan? Once you reach two hundred or so, do the years start blurring together? Kabru mentions that their temporal awareness is remarkably poor.

Two years feel like a few months. Their lives are longer but not fuller. They're older but not wiser than the short-lived races, and most refuse to understand this. Those that do grasp it are interesting - namely Otta, who's ostracised for pursuing half-foot women.

A 30-year old elf is a young child; a 30-year old half-foot has entered middle age. Otta is in the equivalent of her late twenties. She knows that her elven lifespan makes her no more mature than a half-foot - but she also acknowledges that it creates a rift between herself and her partners, and not just in the eyes of society. 'She dumps them as soon as they pass 30', but probably not for the reasons Lycion assumes. For this to be a pattern, decades must have passed - it's possible Otta doesn't want to watch them die as she herself barely ages. No doubt some of her previous lovers have already passed away. In the end, all living 400 years accomplishes is leaving them out of sync with the rest of humanity.

Marcille's perhaps the best example. As a half-elf, she's got 95% of her life ahead and the thought terrifies her. She's going to lose everyone she loves, over and over and over again, and this cycle has barely even started. She runs at a different pace. This context adds so much to her dynamic with Falin in earlier chapters.

Marcille loves her! She's scared for her! Maybe even of her! She's grown attached to a short-lived girl who she met as a kid when Marcille was a teaching assistant! Biologically and developmentally, they're the same age, but chronologically she's twice as old as Falin! Considering what happened to her mother, is history repeating itself? Her feelings towards Falin are tangled and messy and fascinating. They're also more than a little homoerotic, which makes Marcille's infantilization of her friend all the more interesting. It feels like her way of resolving their power imbalance, of remaining a responsible (former!) authority figure... but it's also a coping mechanism. She's frightened by the ways Falin is maturing and changing - aging - and keeping her mental image of her friend as young as possible is her way of denying the march of time that's destined to sever their bond.

Marcille's dream of lifespan extension would remove the need for this obfuscation, render them equal... only, they already are! This desire is imposed onto Falin, but it's primarily for Marcille's benefit. Watching her fight for a world nobody wants, for reasons both selfish and altruistic... it's as tragic as it is understandable. I love this manga.

[bloatedandalone04]

Older, Wiser and Hotter than Ever

Summary: Bucky is your best friend and recently turned boyfriend since he finally realized how in love with you he is. This is your first birthday with him as a couple, and he’s determined to make it your best birthday yet.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: fluff, smut, maybe ooc bucky, but idc, swearing, dirty talk, unprotected sex, modern bucky, oral (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, this is so self indulgent, enjoy.

Today is a special day. It’s Bucky’s favorite day, actually. 

It is your birthday. 

He’d always made a big deal out of it, even before you officially got together, and he wasn’t about to stop now just because he’d finally gotten you into his bed after years of pining. 

Everything had changed, and also nothing at all. You were still you, and Bucky was still Bucky, but you were 100% all in with each other now. 

He was in the kitchen with you, reading the instructions on the back of a box of cake mix while you leaned against the island counter and watched him. You were wearing one of his hoodies and a pair of soft shorts, looking as hot as ever, while Bucky was wearing sweatpants and a black tee, both of you deciding to dress in your comfiest clothing since you wouldn’t be leaving the apartment. 

Bucky glanced over at you, letting his gaze run up and down your body for a few seconds before he stood up straight. “I’m going to make you the best fucking cake you’ve ever eaten,” he stated as he set the strawberry flavored cake box down on the counter, though he knew his baking skills were embarrassingly limited. “And if it all goes to shit, which it probably will, I’ll just order you a cake.” 

In a perfect world, he’d know how to use all the tools he’d bought specifically for this day, and he’d be able to make a cake that tasted way better than decent, but in all honesty, he didn’t have high hopes. And he knew you wouldn’t really care either way, and that just made him love you even more. 

“Don’t worry, doll,” he grinned. “You’ll get your cake one way or another.” 

You laughed and took a few steps towards him. “I don’t need much, Buck,” you said, wrapping your arms around his bicep. “All I could ever want on my birthday is you. And, you know, birthday sex.” 

Bucky smirked and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he rested a possessive hand on your lower back. “Is that right?” he murmured, “Well, I think you’re pretty lucky then, because I’ve got quite a lot of both to give.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, then he kept his lips there as he spoke again,

“Happy birthday, baby,” he said as he placed a series of kisses down the side of your face before pulling back to look at you. “I’m gonna make it the best fucking birthday you’ve ever had. Cake, presents, and all the birthday sex you can handle.” 

You hummed, “Thank you. And I think you know by now that I can handle quite a bit. And I’d never be able to get enough of you,” 

Bucky’s smirk grew as he leaned down and grazed his teeth along the shell of your ear. “Oh, I know exactly how much you can handle, doll. But I still plan to put it to the test tonight,” he said, his voice as confident as ever as his hand ran up and down your back. “But first, I’m going to make you a cake, and I think you should probably help me do it so I don’t burn down our kitchen. Come on, birthday girl.” 

An hour later, after you had to read the instructions again to Bucky and set the timer for him, you were sitting on his lap at the table, the cake placed on the surface in front of you. You watched him decorate it before he stuck a few candles in it and lit them for you, and when you read the message he wrote in icing on the top of the cake, you laughed as you felt a blush creep up on your face. 

“I gotta say, I didn’t have much faith in your baking skills, but now I know to never doubt you,” you teased, turning your head to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Bucky. This is already the best fucking birthday I’ve ever had.” 

Bucky laughed and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he leaned in to press a firm kiss to your lips. “Good,” he mumbled against your mouth, one of his hands stroking up and down your bare thigh. 

Once you began indulging in the cake after he’d handed you a fork, Bucky reached for this phone and scrolled through all the playlists you and he had made until he found the one he was looking for. 

A second later, This Year’s Love started playing through the speaker, and when you turned your head to look at him with a knowing grin, Bucky stood up and pulled you away from the table.

He guided you back into his arms, and you practically melted against him as he swayed you around a bit, his hands sprawled along your lower back. “Happy birthday, my love,” he whispered, then twirled you under his arm as he added, “I hope all your wishes come true, especially all the ones that involve me and you in bed later tonight.”

You laughed as he brought you back into his embrace, and you pressed your face against the side of his neck. “Thank you,” you mumbled, brushing your lips against his skin in a series of gentle kisses. “I have so many wishes for later tonight…most of which I wouldn’t mind getting a start on now.”

Bucky groaned under his breath as you kissed along his neck, and the feeling sent waves of desire straight to his groin. “Doll, I’m trying to dance with you, and now you’re making me hard,” he grunted, and his hands slid down to your ass, giving it a teasing squeeze. 

You pulled back to look up at him, your eyes meeting in an intense stare. “You started it,” 

Then you leaned up to kiss him, and Bucky groaned again as he kissed you back before he took your hand in his and pulled you down the hall toward yours and his room. He didn’t bother closing the door as he lifted you up into his arms and carried you over to the bed. 

Bucky set you down on the mattress before following after you, covering your body with his as he pressed kisses along your jaw. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he murmured as his hands lifted the hem of his hoodie to expose more of your skin. “I’ll give it to you, whatever you want.” 

You wrapped your legs around his waist as you leaned back on the bed. “I want the birthday sex you promised me earlier,” you say, draping your arms around his shoulders as you pull him down for another deep and messy kiss. “I want you…over and over again until I can’t take anymore. Then I want more.” 

Bucky’s normally bright eyes were dark now as he ground his hips against yours, letting you feel just how hard you’d made him within seconds. “I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you everything you want and more,” he promised as he pulled his hoodie off your body and tossed it aside without care before he did the same with your shorts. 

He hooked his fingers in the waistline of your panties and slowly peeled the thin fabric down your thighs, his eyes fixated on your core as he bit back a groan. 

“Spread those pretty legs for me, doll,” he murmured, settling in between your thighs when you obliged. He wasted no time in leaning in, his mouth closing over your puffy clit that had been throbbing for his attention, and he let his tongue flick against the bud a few times. 

“Bucky,” you gasped, arching your back a bit as he worshiped you with his mouth, alternating between teasing licks and gentle sucks. 

One of his hands reached up to grasp your breast, and he rolled your nipple between his thumb and index finger as he ate you out, making his own sounds of pleasure against your core as he did so. 

It was quite obvious that he enjoyed doing this as much as you enjoyed receiving it, and he had ever since the very first time he went down on you, only a few months ago. But that was after pining for you for years, and dreaming about how you taste and the sounds you would make for him. 

It’s safe to say that you are better than all of his fantasies combined. 

“You taste so good, baby. So fucking sexy,” he mumbled against your clit as his other hand teased your folds. He slid his fingers inside you, feeling the warmth and wetness that greeted him, and he curled them slightly as he licked at your sensitive bundle of nerves. You were whining and writhing so much already, Bucky knew it wouldn’t take much to get you there, and it only made him increase both the pace of his fingers and the pressure of his mouth. “You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?”

Your thighs were shaking a bit as you nodded quickly, reaching down to tug on his hair. “I am,” you breathed, “Fuck, don’t stop.”

Bucky groaned against you as he finger fucked you harder and sealed his mouth over your clit once more, sucking hard and earning another sharp gasp from you. “Come on, doll, give it to me,”

You squeezed your eyes shut as you arched your back even more, your body shaking as you came hard, a cry of his name leaving your lips. “Oh, my fucking God,” you whimpered, bucking your hips against his face. “Jesus Christ.”

Bucky licked and lapped at your folds, prolonging your pleasure as long as he could as he savored the taste of you on his tongue. When you slumped back on the pillow, he lifted his head, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. “You’re so fucking hot,” he rasped, slowly pulling his fingers out of you as he crawled back up your body, and he sucked his fingers clean as you reached for the hem of his tee. 

He helped you pull it off before he dipped his head down and pressed his lips to yours in a deep kiss, his hands roaming over your body and caressing the curves he’d become obsessed with. 

You kissed him back as you reached in between your bodies to push down his sweats, and he kicked them the rest of the way off, letting them join the pile of clothes that was scattered on the bedroom floor. 

“I need you,” you whined against his lips as he hovered over you, “Please.”

Bucky grinned against your mouth before kissing you one last time as he positioned himself at your core. A deep groan left the back of his throat when he pushed forward and thrust inside you, your warmth instantly welcoming him in. “God, you feel so good,” he muttered as he rocked his hips slowly at first. “So fucking tight and wet for me.”

You moaned, tipping your head back on the pillow as you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist. “Bucky…fuck, feels so good,” you praised, sliding your hands back into his hair.

He groaned at the added pleasure as he found a pace that left both of you breathless. “I think you were made for me, baby,” he rasped, his grip on your hips tightening to hold you in place for his thrusts. “Made to squeeze me so fucking tight.” he added lowly before he leaned down and captured on of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and nipping at your senstive flesh. 

You whined loudly, arching your back into the feeling of his mouth as he worked his way across to your other breast, and he gave that one the same attention. “Maybe I was,” you whispered, tugging a bit harder on his hair as he fucked into you in a way that had you seeing stars. “Maybe we were made for each other…it just took us a while to realize that.”

Bucky huffed out a laugh as he finally gave your poor chest a break, and he lifted his head to meet your gaze. “No, doll, I realized that the day I met you,” he managed to say as he continued to slide his cock in and out of you. “I knew you were everything to me.” he added, bracing his elbows at either side of your head as he leaned down and pressed a searing kiss to your mouth. 

You let out a shaky moan as you squirmed under him, and you slid your hands down his back as you pulled away from the kiss. “You feel so perfect, Buck,” you whimpered as you buried your face against his shoulder and placed open mouthed kisses along his heated skin. “So good…I love you so much.”

A shudder ran through Bucky’s body as his thrusts became a little harder and a little faster once he felt his high creeping up on him. He tangled his fingers in your hair and gently pulled your head back to expose your neck, and he lowered his head to pepper your skin with soft, barely-there kisses. 

“I love you too, doll,” he panted, his voice strained a bit as he held himself back. “More than anything in this fucking world.”

You clenched around him, and you got louder and louder as the seconds went on, signaling that you were close as well. But he’d get you there again first, like he always did. 

He angled his body so his pelvis was brushing against your clit with every deep thrust, and he felt you clench again. “Cum for me, baby,” he murmured, “Squeeze me with this perfect pussy.”

“Bucky,” you moaned, hiking your legs higher around his waist as you let out pretty sounds for him. Only a few seconds later, you wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders as you came for him again, enveloping him in a warm, wet wave that left you shaking and breathless.

Bucky buried himself inside you a few more times before stilling as he came as well, filling you up as he dropped his head onto your shoulder. “Fuck,” he grunted, his hips jerking as he emptied himself into you. 

He pressed a final kiss to your collarbone before rolling onto his side, taking you with him as he held you in his arms. 

You were both panting and a little sweaty as you laid still, the room filled with the aftersounds of the rather intense session. “You’re incredible, baby,” he mumbled as he pressed soft kisses all over your face. “Every time with you just keeps getting better and better.”

You hummed, resting your head on his chest that was still rising and falling with uneven breaths. “Hopefully it continues to get better and better,” you said back, “I’d hate to see the day where it becomes really bad.” 

Bucky laughed, tightening his hold on you. “I don’t think we have to worry about that any time soon. You and I are different, baby. What we have is real and strong, and it just grows stronger every single day,” he said, tracing random shapes onto your bare back. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I could fuck you in every position imaginable, every day, and still not grow tired of you. You’re too sexy.”

You groaned as he slid a teasing hand down to the curve of your ass. “Bucky,” you whined, burying your face against his chest. “You can’t say that to me after fucking me. It’s not fair.”

He laughed again and pressed his cheek against the top of your head. “When have I ever been fair?” he teased, “And if I can’t say it after fucking you, then when can I? You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, fully clothed and completely naked. And I’m not only saying that because I’m still hard.”

You laughed loudly and covered your face. “Oh, my God,”

Bucky smirked and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re irreplaceable, doll. There’s no one else for me,” he promised.

You lifted your head and looked up at him, a lazy smile on your lips. “How can you be so sweet yet so sexy at the same time?” you questioned, “You’re being so sweet, yet I can literally feel your dick against my hip right now.”

Bucky shrugged, “You bring out every side of me,” he answered and you just shook your head as you cuddled against his side. “Lay with me for a bit, then I’ll give you your presents, and then we can come right back here.”

A smirk tugged at your lips at that, and you nodded as you propped your chin up on his shoulder. “Sounds good,” you mumbled, “Though, the only present I’ll ever need is attached to you.”

A matching smirk formed on Bucky’s lips as he propped one hand behind his head and closed his eyes. “Good to know,”

[maddie-dog-story-blog]

Thanksgiving at his Family's House

"Sorry, sweetie! Brandon didn't tell us he was bringing a guest! This is the only chair we have left! I'm just so happy that you're such a tiny little thing, that you fit!" Your boyfriend's mom told you as she slid the tray of the high chair in place.

At least you got to sit next to Brandon, you thought to yourself as you looked at the crowded room filled with the unfamiliar faces of your boyfriend's relatives.

It would have been nice if Brandon could have warned his family he was bringing you. It would have been nice if he would have had the time of dinner right. Maybe if you had been on time or his mom was forewarned, you wouldn't be dressed in your holiday best, locked in a high chair, waiting for Brandon to make you a plate like a toddler.

But, you weren't going to make a fuss and risk a bad impression the first time meeting his family. And you were glad you didn't.

As dinner went on, you found yourself happily chatting with all of Brandon's family members. They were all so kind and interesting that you totally forgot your childish seating arrangement.

As you chatted away with Brandon's sister, a 27-year-old woman just a few years your senior, you didn't even mind when he left, saying he was going to play football in the backyard.

At least, you didn't mind until all of the delicious food you had been eating started to make its way through your body.

"Hey, do you think you could let me out so I can help clean up?" You asked your boyfriend's sister timidly as you started to notice mother nature running it's course through your bladder and bowels.

"Of course not, sweetie! You're our guest! Make yourself comfortable! No cleaning for you," she said as she cleared your plate and utensils off the tray of your highchair.

You turned to Brandon's mother, hoping for help from her as a cramp rocked your body.

"Um, ma'am, could you let me out? I'd like to keep getting to know you all and don't want to be stuck at the table," you asked politely.

Your boyfriend's mother grinned.

"Oh, sweetie! You don't have to get out of your seat for that! I'll just roll you into the kitchen so you can talk with us while we clean!"

You blushed as the larger woman easily tipped the high chair back on its small wheels and rolled you into the kitchen.

You gripped your stomach and squeezed your thighs together as best you could as his mother and sister spoke with you while doing dishes.

However, after a little time, the sound of running water in the sink and the pressure of the large dinner you ate became too much. With zero fanfare, your bladder and bowels released at once, destroying your panties and cute holiday skirt.

Tears immediately pooled in your eyes at the humiliation of what had just happened. You were trying to plan a way out of the situation when Brandon's sister turned from the sink, and her gaze fell on you.

"What's wrong?" She asked just as the smell hit her. "Oh! Oh, no! Why didn't you tell us you needed to?" She asked rhetorically, letting the last words of her question drop off.

Tears began to roll down your cheeks in earnest.

The slightly older woman leaped into action immediately at your obvious distress. She whispered in her mom's ear then rescued you from your plastic prison. She easily lifted you onto her hip like an infant, embarrassingly smushing the mess in your panties into you, and carried you to an upstairs bedroom, decorated for a young girl.

"Don't worry, sweetie, we'll get you all fixed up and know one will be the wiser!"

Your boyfriend's sister expertly stripped you of your clothes and produced another holiday outfit, this time a red dress that looked a little big for you. She also pulled a large, white diaper out of a dresser.

You were too embarrassed to protest or ask questions as she had you lay on the bed and diapered you. You then meekly raised your arms as she pulled the dress over your head.

You spun for her at her command. She clapped her hands together, satisfied.

"Perfect! And no one else has to know! If anyone asks, I just thought you would look amazing in this cute little dress I used to wear to Thanksgiving in middle school, and you agreed to change!"

You nodded your head obediently, ready to agree to any story other than the truth.

"And, if you have any other little, um, accidents," your boyfriend's sister said conspiratorially, "just let me know, and your new big sister will be more than happy to take care of you again."

You blushed, but nodded your head in affirmation meekly, not ready to piss off the woman who just helped you after watching you mess yourself in a highchair.

She led you back into the rest of the house, where the rest of the family was now gathered together watching football. Brandon's mom gave you an empathetic look as you carefully walked over to your boyfriend and sat next to him.

"Hey, baby," he said, making your face turn as red as your dress, "Cute outfit! My sis is letting you borrow her clothes? I told you that she'd love you!"

You just snuggled into him and made a non-committal noise.

The rest of the night went blessedly smoothly. Everyone socialized amiably, updating each other on the happenings in their lives before it was time to leave. You were only reminded of the events earlier in the day twice, when Brandon's sister asked if you needed any more 'help.'

As you left for the night, his sister made sure to give you the last hug. She let her hand drift down your back and onto your padded rear-end, squeezing it before announcing to the rest of the family, "I've always wanted a baby sister, and I'm so happy my little brother has seemed to find me the perfect one! I can't wait to see you at Christmas!"

The rest of the family cheered in agreement as you walked out the door to the car, your boyfriend beaming at how much everyone loved you. You, on the other hand, couldn't help but feel like you were going to learn to dread holidays with his family as you let a little trickle of urine into the diaper wrapped between your legs.

"The Christmas Debacle."

[keepingitformyself]

older (and wiser): i

synopsis: in which time could have never undone what she left.

A/N: FIRST WANDA FIC!!! had this idea long ago when i was crushing hard on this girl from the theatre program at my uni; around that time i had also seen ‘past lives’ and i wanted to do something similar with that film. also at my core i know wanda maximoff would’ve totally been a theatre kid, this is me paying ode to that. while this specific part doesn’t go into that, i am gonna work on a sort of prequel to this Short Series…anyways enjoy!!!

pairings: wanda maximoff x reader

genre: angst?

warnings: it’s sad. but it gets hopeful…

MASTERLIST part ii

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

it had been years.

wanda had finally decided to take a breather. she’d been working non-stop ever since she left for work all those years ago after college.

she didn’t think she’d get so lucky off that one job, that it’d immediately get her into another, or another, and so on and so forth.

she loved her work, sure, but now it was catching up to her. everyone in her life, her manager, her agent, her family had all begged her to slow down.

“take some time off, wanda.” her agent, daniel had said to her during a meeting. wanda’s eyes traveled between daniel and her manager, samara.

the meeting had all been a set up. what wanda thought was supposed to be a discussion on a new project, was actually a ploy. she had no idea the meeting was meant to convince her to take a break.

“yeah right.” she scoffed. not believing in what they were saying.

“we’re serious, wanda.” samara stated, her eyes stern but with genuine care. “when was the last time you had time for yourself?”

wanda remained silent at the words. all of a sudden she felt like a kid being scolded by their parents. and she wished to be anywhere else but in the room with them.

“really.” daniel starts. “go be a real person. smell the flowers, meet people, fall in love, take in the view—”

“i meet people all the time, daniel.” wanda quickly cut in.

all daniel could do was shake his head, a sigh escaping his lips as he tried his hardest to make the woman in front of him understand.

“you know that’s not what i meant, wanda.” he gives her a pointed look.

with a jaw clenched, she crossed her arms over her chest and looked off to the side. the windows overlooking los angeles now seeming more interesting than this conversation.

“we know how much it means for you to work, we know how much you enjoy it, but you’ve been doing it for so long. we just want you at your best.” she hears samara say. and as much as she hated to admit it, daniel and samara were right.

wanda hadn’t stopped working since she started. in fact, it’s all she can think to do. she didn’t have anyone outside of work—no partner, no obligations except to her family. why stop when there was nothing waiting for her?

wanda knew the answer but wouldn’t admit it. she might as well never have fully faced it.

the truth was, she’d loved someone once. she’d loved you. and no matter how much time had passed, the thought of you still gnawed at her.

though everything was perfect for a while, her career was well off, she was successful, and her family was proud.

but wanda couldn’t help asking, is this really it?

of course, she tried meeting people. she really tried. she didn't like being miserable over someone she hadn't been in contact with for years. but even that wasn't enough. it was honestly a bit pathetic. it had happened years ago. four years, to be exact. wanda should’ve been well moved on by now, but she isn’t. at least not entirely.

so, she poured everything into her work to distract her from that gnawing feeling inside her. the one that had been lit up all those years ago. the one that was tamable with you around.

but you’re not around, and wanda couldn’t help but throw herself into more work hoping she could get rid of it, get rid of you. but she hasn’t.

“listen, wanda,” daniel cuts her train of thought. “your work is important and people need it, but to keep it up to that degree, you need to go out and just be a human.” he finishes.

wanda sighs. she leans forward on her knees and drops her head into her hands. daniel was right. they were both so right.

wanda never properly dealt with things. maybe it's time she finally did.

she looks up from her hands, a look of defeat yet understanding, with pursed lips she finally says,

"fine."

and now, two months later, wanda finds herself back in los angeles, in an empty home, eating expensive sushi.

she had gotten off the phone with her brother, pietro, who had just joined her on the recent trip she’d been on.

a trip that he insisted he’d join her on to make sure wanda would do all the resting and touristy things she should.

she had done all the traveling she could do in the last two months, jumping from plane to plane. talking to strangers, being a tourist in european cities, and befriending random people in planes.

now, wanda actually had time for herself, time with her brain. a thing she honestly didn't want to face. because even thinking about anything made it even more real.

but now wanda was bored, and the movie playing on her eighty-inch television wasn't doing much to entertain her. and it also didn't help that it was eleven pm on a thursday night and all wanda could do was feel bad for herself.

so she does the next thing she had been really trying to avoid,

stalking your social media.

wanda herself wasn’t much active online these days. she had much to do day-to-day and week-to-week, rarely would she ever have the patience to sit down and scroll through her phone much. that and she honestly tried to stay off of it.

but now she has the time. and the patience. and honestly, she’s a little scared at what she could find.

she tells herself it doesn't have to mean anything. just a little check-in to see how you were, after that she'd really work on trying to forget about you altogether.

and with the simple type in of your name, wanda finds your instagram. your profile picture, a professional headshot of you, and a bio that reads,

editor in chief.

New York Times contributor.

something that shouldn't have made wanda's chest burst with joy, but it does. and as she scrolls further and further, she finds that you now reside in new york city, that you've moved on well without her and that you have a cat and a boyfriend.

boyfriend.

she shouldn't care so much, but she does.

you were living your best life. the one you had always wanted.

just not with her. not with wanda.

but she doesn't stop there, and she ignores the lump in her throat as she exits your profile and searches for your mother's name.

and maybe she feels her heart break a little when it turns out the boyfriend you had is actually your fiancé. she finds out through a photo your mother posted.

the picture shows you, and a handsome man next to you. you’re both sat outside some restaurant in the city, his arm is thrown over your shoulder while your right hand clutches his left, and there it is. in all its glory—with the diamond on it catching the suns light perfectly. the ring on your finger.

it doesn’t help that he looks so in love with you.

out for lunch with y/n and paul again! i promised them an engagement lunch and we were NOT disappointed. make sure you try Jack’s Wife Freda if you are ever in SoHo!!#motherinlaw #NYC #loveinnewyork

is what the caption reads.

wanda freezes at the fact and immediately throws her phone on the empty seat beside her. she stares at it like it had just offended her.

many things go through her brain. how did you meet him? was it shortly after you broke up? was it really him you wanted to spend forever with? how long did it take for him to ask?

wanda had always loved your mother. a sweet woman who always had your best interests in mind. she had always pushed you to do what you loved. and wanda had always seen that some of her favorite traits of yours had come from her.

after the break up, your mom made sure to check in on wanda. without you ever knowing, wanda and your mom kept in touch, until eventually wanda had cut her line for the sake of fully moving on.

though, she never really fully did.

wanda evaluates what to do next. was this her sign? she doesn’t want it to be sign.

wanda doesn’t want to admit that it seems like you had moved on so completely.

on impulse she looks up your fiancé’s name. “paul” is all she had to type out in your mother’s following before she found his account.

she finds that paul is just as successful as you are. he’s an investigative journalist, born in ireland. he briefly worked at a publication in london but transferred to a firm in new york after a year.

he’s gorgeous, she thinks. he has blue eyes, a kind smile, and he has an accent. it would make perfectly good sense why you would choose him.

wanda’s stomach twists with a mix of happiness and regret.

“fuck!” She whispers to herself.

“of course, you’re happy. of course the man you’re engaged with is actually a decent man! fuck.” wanda says to no one in particular. in frustration, she burries her hands in her hair.

wanda is annoyed at herself.

“i need a drink,” in an instant she’s on her legs making her way to the kitchen. she finds a bottle of wine that has been kept cool in the fridge and she wastes no time in popping it open, she pauses briefly, debating on whether she’d need or glass or not.

to hell with a glass. she thinks, and makes her way back to the couch, she holds the bottle by its neck and takes a long swig from it.

it’s all so perfectly miserable. wanda maximoff stalking her ex-girlfriend on social media while she gets wasted. the self loathing has got the best of her. she finds it all ironic.

wanda maximoff could have anyone she wanted. she knew this. she has everything she could ever want or need. she has credibility, a nice home, the luxury of traveling at any moment she wants.

yet, her mind kept coming back to one thing. the one thing she’d decided she’d leave behind all those years ago. it isn’t fair, she thinks. wanda was young and stupid back then, but she was so so in love. she knew that for sure.

but sometimes…sometimes she really wishes she had fought harder.

briefly, wanda wonders if your number was still the same. if you had ever changed it or at least tried calling her. she wouldn’t know, she had changed it years ago once she started getting more attention for her work.

wanda was really drunk at this point. her better judgment had gone away as soon as she’d picked that bottle out the fridge. there was no better time than now.

she taps on her phone until she lands on the number keypad. her fingers hover over it, would she regret it if she didn’t? probably. would she regret it if she did? probably.

but if there was one thing wanda had, it’s that she’s got nerve and audacity.

so she types in the number that she doesn’t think she could ever forget, and lets it ring.

your fiancé answers the call.

“hello?” an irish accent sounds through the speaker. paul. wanda’s blood runs cold and she stays silent for a moment. all of sudden she feels incredibly sober and regretting making the call.

“hi.” she pauses. “uhm, i’m looking for y/n?” wanda manages to squeak out.

“right! who is this? your number isn’t saved.” paul says,

“an old friend. i changed my number a while back.” wanda replies smoothly.

“oh! let me pass her to you, she’s just in the kitchen.” the line goes quiet for a few moments, and she’s able to hear a few words exchanged between you and paul.

“hello?”

wanda freezes again, a hand covers her mouth as she tries not to shake at the sound of your voice. it’d been so long. she grips her phone tighter.

“hey…” her voice shaky and unmistakable. you know it’s wanda.

“wanda?” your voice betrayed the surprise you felt. from the couch paul caught your eye, a raised eyebrow on his face. everything okay? he mouthed.

you shook your head.

“i wondered if your number was still the same.” wanda says after a moment. her tone light, but with an undercurrent of something else.

your mind raced. why was she calling you? why now? your fiance was in the other room, you were getting married soon. you’d built a life perfectly fine without her in it. so why was she calling you now?

“how have you been?” her voice cuts through the line again. wanda holds the phone close to her ear, wanting to make sure she could hear every word you say.

and all you can think of is how confused you were.

“i- i’m fine. i’m good. yeah.”

“that’s good—”

“i’m sorry, uh…why are you calling?” you find yourself cutting her off. your fingers press against your forehead in act of trying to understand what was happening.

wanda pauses. she realizes just how impulsive this whole thing was. she’s on the phone with her ex of four years, while your fiancé was probably in the other room. she goes silent again. her words have to be carefully measured.

she gulps,

“uhm…i just—i just wanted to know how you were. heard you’re based in new york now...so…” wanda trails off. you don’t miss the tone in her voice as she says those words. the familiar rasp, the lowness of her voice, she’d used it many times on you when she wanted something.

you close your eyes with a sigh, “yeah. yeah, i live in new york now, engaged and everything.”

wanda smiles through the phone, her eyes almost prick with tears at the corners.

“i saw," she says just above a whisper. "congratulations, you…you’ve always wanted that.” and she means it. she knows better than anyone how much you’ve wanted this.

suddenly a wave of nostalgia hits you, and you’re brought back to when you were both in college. so young, so dumb, but god, it was one of the best times of your life. you try not to let it affect you, how much this call seems to be doing for you. you haven’t yet figured out if it’s a good or bad thing.

“thank you." your voice softens. "how have you been?” you find yourself asking her next.

wanda smiles at your question, “life has been…insane, you know?” she pauses on the line. “still missing some pieces, but overall i’m doing well,” you pretend not to hear the sudden shift in her voice when she said that.

you exhaled quietly, unsure of what to say. the air between you felt charged with unspoken words, old memories stirring to the surface.

“can i see you?” she asks, her tone hesitant. “catch up in person? i’d really like to see you.”

with your bottom lip between your teeth, you contemplate your next words. paul notices your tick from the other his seat on the couch, despite you telling him it was okay he couldn’t help but worry. he’d heard enough of the call to know something was wrong. still he knows you had it down, so he waits until you need him.

you struggle to find your words for a moment, the question being so…why?

“oh, wanda, i don’t know if—”

but wanda ever the stubborn woman she is, doesn’t relent.

“please. Just for some coffee and conversation.”

your mind is torn between keeping your peace or taking wanda up on her offer. but you were curious.

with a sigh you finally decide.

“where and when?”

you can hear wanda’s smile through the phone,

“i can fly to new york anytime you’re free. you can pick a spot and i’ll be there.”

you think for a few moments.

“okay, meet at caffe reggio in greenwich. i’ll be in touch with when.”

wanda’s heart stutters, something she hadn’t felt in a while. her eyes flutter closed, she breathes in— out. her eyes open again. and though you can’t see it, there’s a new look in her eyes.

“i’ll be there.”

[bunny-jpeg]

kink-o-ween - day twenty-one

toto wolff - degradation kink

cw: smut/pwp, dom/sub, age gap (20/50), bratty!reader, groping, dirty talk/degrading language, doggy style, hair pulling

kink-o-ween master-list

toto tapped his foot as he watched you by your joyful self. while another man would find it endearing, but not the older, wiser toto wolff. he had over two decades over you, he could see the tricks of a dumb little girl.

"treasure." he said, standing up a little straighter. so you'll look away from your flirty interaction with the mechanic next to you and towards your lover. but when you didn't he whistled to your like you were a dog.

and like an obedient puppy, you looked over. you perked up with shock and toto just grinned.

you were on your stomach in the your hotel room with your shirt (toto's shirt) pulled up and exposed your round ass to the older man. your panties were still on but pulled past the cheeks to give toto a lot of room to grope and feel. toto wasn't a gentle lover, it wasn't in him to do so. the years made him yearn for a squirming younger lover who he could twist to his liking.

and you in turn loved when older men spoke down to you and bullied you and your cunt into an absolute submission. to be marked and in away owned by an older man. especially a man like him. his words were often filthy, degrading you until you were a whimpering mess. your words of defense died on your tongue which only spurred him on.

"you are a bad girl." he looked at you like you were a piece of meat. "nothing but a whore, but i guessed i'm not wrong about that. you only care about cock. you are cock hungry." he grabbed your cheek roughly and your back arched.

you replied, "no, no." you tried to squirm out of his grasp, but he kept you onto the bed. toto wouldn't let you get that far away from him.

"yes, yes, schatzi." you are a little slut. you love the attention of older men. any man who'll look at you." his voice was a growl and you felt the reverberations through your body.

you whimpered at his words and you were forced to tilted your head to the side to let him kiss your neck. it made you shiver.

"but, it's okay." he said before he laid a smack on your ass. he was in an undershirt and his dark briefs. and you were just in the shirt and panties. near naked on the lavish bed. he pressed more kisses against you before he took the shirt off of your body. his lips trailed down your back, "it's okay that you're a whore. because you're my slut. beautiful little slut."

you squirmed, but when toto let go of you, you didn't move away. he stripped himself of his clothes. you felt his hungry gaze on you as you raised your hips a little higher. he made a soft groaning noise.

you reached behinf yourself and got your panties down your ass and exposed your slick, sweet pussy to him.

"so well behaved. maybe too well behaved." he said which made you moan, "maybe it's time to put my treasure on a tighter leash." and he lined his cock with your pussy and sank down into you to the base. he felt perfectly, after all the times, he had to work your pussy to accommodate him. you were made perfect for his heavy cock now.

now he could get into you with ease.

"no one else could fuck you right, not like me." he said his volume was a little lower, but the tone was stern. it made your toes curl.

toto yanked your hair to pull your head away from the soft pillows. he asked, "now, schatzi. wirst du dich benehmen? you'll be a good girl for me?" you knew enough german to understand the question.

you nodded, "yes, i will be good for you." you whined, then he grasped your hair a little tighter. you whined, "fuck, honey."

"word words are music to my ears. i know you enjoy when i touch you like this. when i call you named, when i'm mean. i bet you tell all your friends about how spoiled you are."

your head was dropped back towards the covers while toto fucked you with a feverish pace. he was in control and you loved it. the domineering presence of his movements made you feel hot.

he continued to rut up inside of you. he was pulled in by your sweet noises, to egg him on. your sweet noises and sweeter cunt.

"schatzi." he said, a voice like honey as he hit the deepest parts of you. his cock bullied up into you. he saw you try to grasp the covers. the next time he'd bind your arms behind your back.

the pleasure bled into your core and it left you breathless. your were near drooling on the sheets. your back arched further as you felt the wetness between your legs grow.

"i need you, i want you. and i don't want anyone else to have you. you're mine. to sink my teeth into you. i have to find a way to keep me from flirting with you. a ring, maybe? a collar? maybe the scent of my cum on your breath."

his words only turned you on further and you pathetically gasped into the sheets. the pleasure was all so much and you loved it.

"please, toto." you whined. you very being yearned for him. you moaned and the pleasure overrode everything else in your head. you could feel the throb in your core, maybe toto's words were true. that you were a slut, but you were only toto's slut. no one else's.

"perfect for me." he said, "beyond words." it only sent you over the head. pleasure gripped you and you climaxed.

"please, toto!" you moaned loudly as you felt the pleasure grip you and radiate through your body.

toto was further aroused and pushed further into you. he got you to an angle that made you see stars. he fucked you until he got every inch inside of you with a final thrust. he finished inside of you. he panted heavily through his nose and he moved you up and down on his cock a few more times.

he curled over you and kissed your sweaty back while you basked in the after shivers of sex. when he finished kissing you, he laid out beside you on the bed. you grabbed him by the face to kiss him while you both laid in bed together. he draped an arm around your waist.

"am i a slut?" you asked.

he pushed your hair and kissed your forehead, "mmm, schatzi. you may be something. but i know regardless of how much you flirt. you will always end up in my bed at the end of the day. because you are mine." <3

[mywritersmind]

I WANT TO BE BETTER - KA12

summary : you’re done with kimi not committing to you. breaking up your situationship should be left clean with only words to hurt. unfortunately, goodbye kisses never have always been plural for you two.

listen up : angst! smut! p in v! a lovely request for angsty or smut so i gave u both!! hopefully you enjoy !

words : 1285

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Sometimes… after a kiss, or when he leaves your apartment after bringing you flowers, or after seeing those sweet messages he’s so prone to send- you hate him.

Just a little bit.

This, is one of those times. Except he’s standing in front of you, his arms crossed and leaning against the hotel dresser.

He’s in all black, for a moment you think it’s a bit poetic. Maybe it is.

“I can’t do this, Kimi.” You flew out for this. Flew out for him. Now you’re sitting on the edge of an unfamiliar bed with your heart ripped out in front of you. “I want all of you.”

“Or none of me?” He shoots back, his eyes trained on the floor. His voice gets softer, “I want you too, Y/n.”

“Not enough.” You reiterate for what feels like the thousandth time, “You’ll kiss me and fly me out and hold me in your arms- but you won’t commit. I know this year is big for you and I want to cheer you on without looking back but I really thought we could be casual. I just… I can’t.”

“You’re giving up?” He meets your eyes. He looks tired- like your words are hurting him. He has no idea how much he’s hurt you.

“I’m giving in.” You say, “This is the best for both of us. You’ve said it yourself, I'm a distraction!

He shakes his head, his voice breaking, “I’ll- I can…”

“No, Kimi.” You sigh, looking up at him and trying not to cry, “You can’t. And that’s okay… I want you to be good.”

He is good. So good. When you’re alone. In public, you seem like the tag along friend who Kimi never touches because he doesn’t want anyone to think anything. But then he’ll pull you into his driver's room and make you forget why anger was ever an emotion you knew.

He’s everything and absolutely nothing at the same time. Breaking you down with every rushed kiss or rumor. It’s not his intention, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

“I am good.” His hands rush to his hair, “I’m good with you.”

“I’m not, though. Nothing is going to change the fact that I hate seeing you asked about your love life! Or that I know you don’t like me in the garage. Or that you like flirting with girls at events!”

“Fuck those girls- they’re not you!”

“Then why do you act like they are!?” You’re angry now, shaking your head and dropping it into your hands. You’re not exclusive- you’ve seen other guys, gone on other dates… but that’s why you need to break it off. Him doing the same things you are is torture. You know those dates mean nothing to you.

To him, they’re just another way to get out of the bubble he lives in. He doesn’t feel guilty after making another girl cum but you cried the last time someone other than Kimi kissed you.

“I’ll stop inviting you to races! I’ll see you at home- I'll come to you!”

“For what? One day every other month?” He looks defeated because you both know that’s what will end up happening. “We’re done, Kimi.”

His eyes widen, stepping forward, “I'll be better!” he’s on his knees in a second, his hands on your legs, “I’ll do better!” they drag over your skin in a touch far too familiar. He looks up at you with heartbreak in his eyes, “I’ll do it for you.”

You shake your head, your mouth shut tight to not say anything you’ll regret. Tears escape when the words you want to say won’t.

He wipes a tear off your cheek. “Baby…” You turn your head, not wanting to look at his face. “I can’t lose you.”

You take a shaky breath, “It’s too late, Kimi.” You’re a placeholder. Something stable. You’re eighteen.

A part of you wonders if you’ll meet again when you’re older, wiser. Then again, if it relates to Kimi, you doubt you’ll ever be wise.

The brunette rests his forehead against yours. He’s crying now too. “I really wish it wasn’t like this.” The hatred in you pops out again, but it’s immediately suffocated by the broken love in his soft eyes.

“I know…” You breathe, running a hand onto his cheek which he leans into like it’s muscle memory. He turns, his lips meeting your hand.

“I’m sorry.” He stands, leaning in and kissing you. The ghost of what you two were float above, feeling heavier than ever. “I’m so sorry.”

You kiss him back harder than you should, slipping your hand to his neck while he holds your waist. It’s messy and rough and falling apart all at the same time.

But he only kisses back with more force, climbing over you as you crawl backwards on the bed.

You’re not wearing a bra. He loves it, something clear from the small noise he makes when you start to squirm under his touch.

“We shouldn’t.” You bite out, not stopping him from kissing down your neck.

His curls brush your jaw as he whispers, “I’ll stop.” It’s up to you. He gives that choice, at least.

But every logical thought rushes out of your head the second he slips his calloused hand under your shirt.

His own top is gone quickly, his body hard and prominent as usual. Yours is next to go, then your shorts.

He used to smirk when he saw what underwear you decided on, today he only kissed down your stomach when he notices it’s what he bought you.

His lips are stuck on yours again as you use your hands to unzip his pants, his dick hard already. When your fingers brush over it, he shivers.

Pushing you harder into the perfectly made bed, he kisses your lips, then your jaw, his free hand slipping below your panties.

Your back arches at his touch, a feeling you’d never get sick of. “Need you-” you whimper out.

It’s everything he wants to hear, something he takes seriously, especially if it’s the last time you might say it.

He’s already leaking, lining himself up and wasting no time before pushing into you. Your head falls deeper into the pillow, Kimi’s eyes on your face.

He loves knowing that he makes you like this, loves knowing that you do the same to him. He groans when he picks up the pace, his hand next to your head and gripping the pillow.

“Fuck…” He whines, kissing you in the heat of the moment. “You’re fucking intoxicating.”

“So good.” You bite your lip, grabbing his shoulder. “Miss you.” It makes no sense. He’s in you- but somehow it feels different, even if the way you moan his name is the exact same.

He holds your hips when you start to slow down, controlling you so well. He manipulates every noise you make, every thrust hitting right where you like it.

His head drops between your boobs, crying out when you tighten around him, “I fucking love you.” It’s everything you’ve ever wanted him to say, and the worst possible thing to hear.

He watches you when your legs start to shake, your vision going blurry as his pace grows rougher. You’re both immune to tears, now seeing the hurt manifest in white heat that shocks both of you.

He cums on your thigh after you finish around him. He falls onto the bed next to you, both quiet except for the heavy breathing that fills the room. His hand is brushing yours still.

Despite how many times he’s touched you, it feels unfamiliar.

It feels like a goodbye.

[beanbagstab]

Short Sonamy IDW Fanfic thingy:

Introspection/ Realization of feelings / Slight Angst/Sonic centric

Sonic would never admit it, but he has been in love with Amy practically since the moment he had laid eyes on her- though he hadn’t realized that until recently.

He didn’t understand Amy or the way she made him feel. At first, he just thought all girls were like that, weird beings who stir you up inside with their feminine charm but no. After he grew older, met more people- more girls- he realized these feelings only emerged around Amy. After he sorted all that out he decided it was best to avoid her (and these weird feelings) whenever he could. 

After all, he already knew what romance was like. Boy meets girl, they hit it off, girl asks boy for dates and marriage, boy proposes, they marry and move into the suburbs where they watch over their two kids before boy heads off to his 9 to 5 and girl stays back to cook dinner, they grow old, retire, die, and get buried in some nearby graveyard without traveling or adventures or fighting world destroying enemies. 

As far as he was concerned, if Amy had her way, they’d be on a one-way road to a dead-end life. And Sonic hated the Idea of that more than anything. 

So when Amy suddenly grabbed him by his hands and declared she never wanted him to change and wouldn’t want to force him to stay at HQ, he felt something swell within his chest. He stared at her dumbfounded. Huh? Did he hear that right? Was this really Amy, the same girl who would chase him down for miles begging him to marry her?  Before he could get a word out another thought crossed his mind. Had she just said ‘I love you’ to his face? She had said it so casually he had almost missed it. 

He didn’t know what to say to her. Sonic couldn’t speak so freely about his emotions the way Amy seemed able to, so he opted to reciprocate in his own- less direct way. 

He backed up slightly, scratching his nose and turning his head to hide the smile that was creeping up his face. “ You know, you could come with me if you wanted.”

He had offered the same preposition to Tails not too long ago yet, when asking Amy there was an air of awkwardness to it. He was unpracticed when it came to the matters of his heart so expressing these desires felt foreign on his selfless tongue. 

He won’t deny he was a bit upset when she declined, but that was quickly replaced with warmth as he saw the determination in her eyes. She had a job to do that not even Sonic the Hedgehog could pull her away from. To him, it was as if she was saying, ‘I won’t be tied down to you either.’ And the thought of that set his heart ablaze. 

Amy had Sonic’s heart tied around her finger-not that he would ever tell her that but with the way she acted around him, Sonic was sure that some way somehow, she already knew. 

.

.

.

Sonic caught himself sneaking glances at Amy far more often than he’d be comfortable admitting but could you blame him? He hadn’t seen any of his friends for 6 months and Amy was one of his closest. He figured that must be all it was. He missed his friends dearly while he was gone so it makes sense he was feeling a bit mushy. 

But then again, it seemed to be only around Amy did he feel this strongly. 

When she spoke, he found himself hanging onto the last word she said. When she looked at him, he felt himself bask in her attention. And when they were alone, an increasingly rare scenario given the busy nature of HQ, he covetted the intimate way she relaxed in his presence. 

She was so tense as the leader of the resistance and the restoration. He couldn’t recall a time he’d seen the ever-cheery Amy Rose so restrained and subdued. He didn’t like it one bit.

Eye bags and a caffeine addiction didn’t suit her. At least not the her he knew half a year ago. 

He tried not to think about it but, a lot of his friends seemed different; a little wiser, shoulders a bit broader, and a lot more tired. And Amy seemed the most different of them all. He noticed a distinct lack of hugs and dreamy lovey dovey rants. The best way he could put it would be that she seemed more… mature? At least, she was acting in a way a child might believe a mature adult might act. 

Sonic couldn’t help but feel as if she was putting up some kind of act for everyone. Like, she needed to change for people to take her seriously. But could he blame her? No one really took her seriously before- not until she took out her hammer at least. But momentary fear and respect are not the same thing.

Still, he hated seeing her in such a state. A rose deserved to be basking in the sun and swaying in the wind, not withering away in front of a dozen buzzing monitors.  

So he made it a point to invite her out on missions whenever she could afford herself to be stolen away. 

And that's what their mission to the mines should’ve been. Just an easy excuse to take his crush out of that stuffy office. 

But one thing led to another and the next thing he knew, he couldn’t even offer a shoulder for her to lean on.

.

.

.

If Amy seemed depressed before the metal virus, she was down right miserable now. But honestly, he wasn’t doing much better himself. He could barely sleep and needed to be on the move constantly, lest the virus spread further and further through his exhausted body. 

Before he was infected, he never noticed how often the two would exchange little touches. From the shoulder holds he would offer in consolation, to lingering touch in the place their fingers overlapped for just a few seconds too long when he needed to pass something to her.

There had just been too many close calls where he had reached out to hold her before he caught himself and quickly pulled back in embarrassment. He wanted to be close to her so bad he was absentmindedly putting the entire operation at risk. 

After he realized that, he decided it was best he kept his distance.

Best for Amy, best for the resistance, and best for his heart. 

[jane-newby]

Why I love Caitlyn Kiramman (S1 & 2)

Decided to write this just because... and well I've seen a few "why I hate Arcane Cait" so I am writing why I think she's awesome.

1. I am a sucker for misfit characters. When Cait meets Jayce in the rain and solidifies their relationship by admitting she's a misfit too, my heart was sold. Of course, many of the Arcane characters are misfits, but Cait because of her birth into high society runs against many of the expectations and beliefs of her station. She gives off Sherlock vibes when it comes to social interactions and her skill of deductions/sleuthing.

2. She's an excellent shot. There is something about a girl with a great aim that I love (Hunger Games Katniss is the first that comes to mind). My favorite shooting scenes are from S2 in the Jinx/Sevika skirmish and the final battle when she takes on a sniper role.

3. Noxian training montage. After being kidnapped, knocked out and almost choked out, it was about time Cait learned hand to hand to combat. While I would have loved a longer scene it was nice to see 60 seconds of her Mulan-esque training session.

4. Badass Disney princess/prince vibes. She had a heart of gold and was in the pursuit of justice and truth ever since her Season 1 convo with Grayson ("What are you shooting for young Kiramman?") Cait spends most of Season 1 defending or attempting to save others (i.e. Jayce, Vi, the people of Zaun). She is willing to listen when she is in the wrong (aka conversation with Ekko and the Firelights) or understand the experiences of those she knows little about.

5. Cait and Vi’s Slow Burn Romance. “Will they won’t they.” A Romeo & Juliet aka other side of the tracks romance. Opposites Attract. Again I am a complete sucker for this romance trope. Step Up. Mulan. The 100. She-Ra. Miles Morales and Gwen (Please never compare Jinx and Ekko just because the ethnics match. They are not the same.) You give me two unlikely characters who go through the ups and downs of life and then finally consummate that relationship. I am down HARD. I like the tension. The tennis match of love and hate until they finally figure out they are meant for each other. Cait and Vi could have made love in a tree and I still would have happily rewatched because their love was multiple little scenes of looks, nicknames, rescues, fights, a kiss, and “I am down bad,” shower scene. What’s not to like?

6. Cait’s Character Development. From the fires of tragedy, a naive, eager, idealistic, bright eyed Young Kiramman princess develops into an older, wiser, humble leader. 

To me, her arc is about the passage into adulthood. An examination of that age old question “What does it mean to be human?” As the years pass, Cait clung to Grayson’s words–essentially her why, her purpose. But what happens when that purpose is challenged or marred by reality, by pain, anger? 

Cait’s purpose is immediately challenged when she finds out the Enforcer sheriff is corrupt and almost kills her in order to hide his sins. While it’s clear, there is no love between the two, Marcus’s corruption and her confrontation with Ekko challenge her belief in a system she joined in her pursuit of justice. Immediately, after, she attempts to broker an agreement that will help Zaunites but the Council selfishly rejects her proposal. You know the rest of the story.

Hours later she is kidnapped, tortured by the sister of her crush. Then the same sister drops a bomb killing not only people she knew, but her mom. Then at the memorial, another attack occurs presumably from the same sister–Jinx. The Council is eager to annihilate Zaun, but Cait attempts to be a voice of reason while grieving. Then when she has a chance to kill Jinx she fails and pushes/hits her girlfriend away. She loses her brother, and the only council member who notices she’s struggling. Her father is MIA. A known genocidal general begins to manipulate her. 

In a matter of months, Cait’s purpose is crushed by tragedy and a need for revenge. In season 1, Silco states, “There’s a monster inside all of us.” Cait’s monster rears its ugly head as she dawns the evil cloak, broods in dark rooms (thank you ep 4 beginning montage) and embraces oppressive tactics to fulfill her new objective. Cait’s conflict is not just an external manifestation but an internal one. Will she let bitterness take over or will she stick to her values of justice, truth, and kindness? We know that she has not fully embraced Ambessa’s ideologies, as she is constantly questioning Ambessa directives. Her conversations with Singed and her decision to spy on Singed’s actions also show that internal war. Ultimately, it is the decision to help Vi and betray Ambessa that led back to Cait’s core. She didn’t need to make a Youtube apology video. She chose through her actions to get back to a new, healed version of her purpose. Her last words in S2  “Are you still in this fight?” are a reflection of Cait’s own journey–to rise from tragedy and her own mistakes to make a difference even when pain, challenges, evil can make the journey seem impossible. 

Cait said it best in Season 2’s final memorial, Our only consolation for every loss we found some good, some light, worth gaining, worth fighting for. And though we are doomed to revisit the error of our ways, spark ever more conflicts, our story isn’t over.

And this is why I love Cait because of what she represents. A strong female character with quirks. A sense of justice. Love. A closet full of demons. Transformation. Humanity. And Badass shooting skills.

[putellasawfc]

exposed !

jen beattie x arsenal!reader

( a/n: omgggg this has been in the works FOREVER, before jen announced leaving arsenal which i am still not over tbh. but it’s finally here! especially dedicated to @mccabeswife since she requested it ! i hope you enjoy ! )

-

another media day at the arsenal training grounds meant a lot of bored footballers sat around waiting for their turn in front of the camera, the current youtube video being filmed was for three pairs only, another one of those ‘guess what the person is saying whilst you wear sound cancelling headphones’ videos that people went crazy over. the lucky girls who had been paired together for said video had been chosen at random, and you had ended up with leah with frida, manu with katie and viv with lotte which meant the rest of you were trying to entertain yourselves elsewhere.

which wasn’t really an issue when you were all shoved into a recreational room with an assortment of snacks, gossip and phones in hand. beth, the self proclaimed quidnunc of the group had been sat in between you and alessia for the last ten minutes, and had yet to stop telling you about the ongoing drama in the west ham team that she had found out about at an event over the weekend. you paid attention for as long as you could, sharing looks with alessia as you both struggled to keep up with the fast paced ramblings coming from the yorkshire woman but beth was none the wiser.

you felt a dip in the sofa to the left of you, the last bit of space being occupied by someone who threw an arm around your shoulder and when you got a whiff of the familiar perfume she sprayed on every morning, you knew exactly who it was.

you turned your head and smiled at the culprit, jen sat sporting her usual messy bun on top of her head and cheeky smile on her face. she pulled you further into her side and gently squeezed your upper arm, “she still talking your ear off?”

you huffed a laugh at that, looking to see if beth had heard but she was still too busy ranting and raving, now focusing her attention on alessia since you were now occupied elsewhere, poor girl.

“something like that.” you hummed, snuggling up to your taller girlfriend who was happy to let you lean on her. “you finished your influencer activities?” you teased, referring to the number of tiktok’s she had forced some of the girls to take part in since they all arrived.

“aye, i get a lot of love and appreciation from the fans for providing them with five star, behind the scenes content i’ll have you know.” she told you, “but yeah. letting steph take over for now, think she’s really getting into those football murder mystery filters.”

you glanced over to where she nodded towards, indeed seeing steph with her phone in her hand obviously recording herself, with kyra and vic sat either side of her laughing at the story that was unfolding on the filter.

“what happens when she steals your tiktok crown?” you asked with a sly smirk, knowing the older woman would have a meltdown if steph’s content starting getting more love than hers.

“don’t jinx it.” she shoved you lightly, “i’d have to post something outrageous to get me my title back. know i have some mugshots of you deep in my camera roll, i’m sure they’d come in handy.”

“you wouldn’t!” you gasped, sitting up slightly in your seat and the scottish woman laughed at your reaction.

you knew she had accumulated a hefty amount of embarrassing pictures of you over the year that you’d been together, ranging from you asleep with your mouth open to you pulling the ugliest faces whilst you awaited the impact of the ball to hit you during games.

“then you better hope steph gets bored quickly.” she shrugged.

you playfully rolled your eyes at that, finally relaxing back down beside her, grabbing ahold of her hand that was hanging over your shoulder, interlocking your fingers as you did.

“you’re so mean to me, sometimes i don’t know why i agreed to be your girlfriend.” you shook your head as if you were disappointed with yourself, trying your best to hold back the smile that was itching to come out.

that didn’t last long though, as only a moment later the defender jumped up from her spot on the sofa and leaned most of her body weight on you, her hands flew to grab either side of your face so she could get a good view of it as she began to lather every inch of your skin in kisses, her lips not leaving one patch of your face untouched. your squealed and thrashed wildly beneath her, your shoulder knocking into beth’s who finally halted in her gossiping at the interruption.

she kept going, stopping for a second to grin at your flushed state. “you fancied me too much to say no to being my girlfriend you goon.” and with that she continued her loving attack on you.

you wriggled around, laughing as you fought for breath and attempted to push her from you but she wasn’t budging.

“jen! stop, i can’t breathe.” you shrieked between giggles, hands gripping at her red jumper, “you’re right! you’re right, please let me go!”

finally deciding you’d had enough, jen let go of you and you caught your breath as you sagged against beth with a hand on your chest. “you could’ve killed me then, i hope you know.”

“so dramatic you are.” she tutted, pulling gently on your arm so that you were sat upright once again. “now gimme a proper one.”

you grinned, and gladly leaned in towards your girlfriend, giving her exactly what she wanted as your lips met halfway and you sunk into the display of affection almost immediately, your lips moving together in unison before you felt a harsh nudge in your side.

you yelped and pulled back, glaring at beth who only looked proud of what she’d done.

“not in front of the children please.”

-

the next day you arrived back at the training grounds, this time with a full day of practice ahead of you rather than a day in front of the cameras which you were very much looking forward to. media day was always fun, especially when you were partnered up with the right person and yesterday you were lucky enough to have gotten cloe as your pal for the day, so you had no complaints.

but you were excited to get back to doing what you loved, especially with an important match ahead of you. you wanted to get your head in the game and make sure you were one hundred percent ready to face the opposing team on sunday.

everything was normal for all of five minutes, you walked in and greeted some of the staff lingering near the entrance before you headed off to the changing rooms so you could change into your training kit, but before you even had chance to push the door open, a body came barrelling into yours, making you stumble on your feet and your arm fly out to steady yourself against the wall.

you looked to the person with furrowed brows, your jaw dropped in shock at the scare you’d just gotten. “christ steph, what’s up with you?”

she looked worried, as her hands gripped onto both of your arms and the aussie looked behind her where leah and lia were approaching, with much calmer demeanours. “i have to tell you something before you find out from someone else, but you have to promise you won’t be mad at me.”

you eyed her warily, your head cocking to the side before you looked over to the two other girls with narrowed eyes. “what is it?”

“no! you have to promise first.”

you rolled your eyes at that, beginning to panic a little as your mind ran wild with possibilities of what information steph could be withholding from you.

“fine, i promise. now tell me.” you told her, not really meaning it, you just needed her to spill the beans before you tired yourself out from overthinking.

“i kind of, may have, accidentally posted a tiktok that had you and jen kissing in the background of it.” she winced, waiting a beat to carry on. “but i promise it was a genuine mistake! if i had known it was in there i would’ve never, ever posted it i know you guys didn’t want your relationship to be public yet, and i am so sorry please don’t be mad at me.”

“what?”

a stupid question, most definitely but it was the only thing that you could manage to say at this moment in time. you didn’t know how to feel or what to say as you processed the information just given to you by steph who was still watching you carefully, as if she was awaiting some kind of wild outburst.

an array of different emotions passed through you simultaneously, you were annoyed at steph for outing your relationship on a platform that spread content like wildfire. no doubt screenshots and recordings of the tiktok had already been shared to the likes of twitter and instagram, posts made that couldn’t be taken back now. how could steph have let that happen? why did she not spot it before she pressed post?

you were also panicking. did jen know? would she be annoyed? would this change things between you? you’d both agreed when you first began dating, after months of mutual pining, that when you got together you would keep your relationship as private as you could, for as long as you could.

something that was unfortunately common amongst women’s football, was how invasive some fans could be in the players lives. you had seen how they could overstep boundaries and pry too deep into stuff they didn’t need to know about many times, which would then jump to them spreading their opinions without a care about who was on the other side of their sometimes vicious comments. you’d been witness to it ruining some of your friends relationships, and you didn’t want that to happen to you and jen. jen who you loved, who loved you back, jen who you could see yourself marrying one day in the future. so you had come to the smart, unanimous decision to keep it hush for as long as you could. but now, it was out there.

“does jen know?” you asked next, deciding that was the priority for you right now.

steph shook her head, “no. i was gonna tell her but she’s been talking to jonas since she got in.”

jen had set off an hour prior to you, with fans sometimes lingering outside the training grounds in hopes of getting a photo with some of you before you came in, you didn’t want to risk them seeing you and jen showing up together a few times too many and start to put two and two together, so more often than not you took separate cars and showed up at different times.

you nodded at that, and took in a deep breathe as you tried to think of what to do next. seeing as it was already out, there was no way you’d be able to backtrack or deny that you were in a relationship with jen, so the only real option you had left was to come clean to the fans about it all. you just weren’t sure how to.

“are you still my friend?” you were brought back into the present by steph’s quiet voice, her eyes were still scanning you warily and you probably would’ve laughed at how silly she sounded if you weren’t the person on the other end.

“course i’m still your mate steph.” you told her, and the blonde visibly deflated in front of you. “just wish you had the common sense to check what’s going on in your tiktok’s before you posted them.”

you were half joking, half serious. but when steph tutted and shoved you playfully, you didn’t have the heart to be upset with her anymore. it’s not as if she had posted it on purpose, and with how she reacted when she approached you, you were sure she’d been beating herself up over it since she’d realised what she’d done.

“see! told you she wouldn’t be mad, got yourself all worked up over nothing.” leah spoke up, and then you remembered her and lia were still lingering in the back.

“yeah well, i wouldn’t have blamed her if she was.” steph said, and you pulled the aussie in for a side hug.

“it’s okay steph, just gotta find jen now and spill the beans.”

-

it was only twenty minutes later when jen joined you all in the changing rooms, already clad in her arsenal training kit and with her water bottle in hand, she spotted you almost instantly and her face brightened when she realised you had arrived whilst she’d been busy.

“when did you get here?” she asked, pulling you into a hug which you gladly reciprocated.

“not too long ago.” you told her, rubbing your hands up and down her back. “got something i need to tell you though.”

she pulled back a little at that, looking down at you with a raised brow. “should i be worried?”

you shrugged, “i mean, it’s not anything to panic about but … i don’t know if you’re going to like it.”

you nodded your head towards the door, gesturing to the empty hallway on the other side where you could both have the conversation privately with nobody there to eavesdrop. jen nodded in agreement, retracting from your embrace and pulling on your hand to tug you in the direction you had just motioned towards.

now standing in the vacant corridor, you leaned your back against the grey wall and watched jen as she stood in front of you with her hands on her hips as she waited for you to speak, which you did after a sigh.

“steph practically ambushed me this morning, she um, did something stupid.” you began, scratching your head as you thought about how to put what happened into words. “you know all those tiktoks she was messing around with yesterday?”

you waited for jen to nod, which she did a second later so then you continued. “well she posted some of them and in one of them, it has you and i kissing in it, in the background. and it’s definitely too late for us to do anything about it.”

you stood with baited breath, similar to how steph had been when she was breaking the news to you, all of a sudden wishing you had the power to read minds as jen’s poker face came out in full force, the brunette not hinting to how she was feeling at all. at least she wasn’t tugging at her loose strands of hair, or biting at her nails, two big tell tale signs that she was stressing which you’d picked up over the months you’d spent together, which was a small win you were willing to take.

“well i guess the secrets out then.” jen shrugged, her hands remaining on her hips as you looked at her slightly puzzled.

“you’re not bothered?” you asked, half expecting a bigger reaction from the woman who was always so careful with how you interacted in public.

“i mean, it’s not great is it?” she asked, “but honestly, a part of me is kind of glad its out there now. i love our little bubble, not having to deal with people we don’t even know deciding whether we’re a good fit or not and all that stuff. but at least now, we don’t have to stress over the littlest things everytime we go out together.”

you listened to the points she made, nodding along with pursed lips in agreement with what she was saying. one of the most annoying things about have a relationship that wasn’t public, was having to be on guard everytime you both wanted to spend time with eachother out of the house, leading to the two of you just ending up having most of your date nights at home instead, not having the energy to make sure there were no prying eyes wherever you went.

“and we don’t have to watch what we post on social media. no more making sure our stories don’t give away that we’re at the same place, or triple checking that none of our stuff’s in the background.” she added on, and your lips quirked up in amusement at the amount of times you’d had to quickly delete a story or instagram post when you realised there was a beattie shirt in the background, or anything else that gave away who you were with.

“so this is kind of like a blessing in disguise?”

she grinned, “yeah something like that. but don’t tell steph i said anything, she’ll be gloating for weeks.”

you laughed at that, finally being able to relax properly for the first time since steph had practically jumped you whilst you were on your way to get changed. jen approached you, clearing the few steps that kept her away from you and pulling you into her warm embrace, pressing a kiss to your forehead as she did. “at least now we don’t have to do any big, relationship reveal post. you know how much i’ve been dreading that.”

you hummed, “think we should get steph to do a big post for us? i’m sure her drafts are stacked with videos of us.”

“we can ask. but not yet, wanna pretend i’m really mad at her for a bit so i can bribe her into pampering me for a bit.”

you scoffed at that, giving the scottish woman a faux disgusted look. “you’re evil beattie.”

“you love me.”

[storiesoflilies]

the devil waits on the shore

synopsis: she was born with the mark of the devil of the sea on her wrist. everyone knew that he would come for her one day. she should be afraid… shouldn’t she? w.c: 1.6k.

pairing: pirate!toji fushiguro x f!reader

warnings: implied drug use. nothing major, really.

series masterlist / ao3

ACT 2

the town was decaying slowly.

she wished it would just decay all at once, but it wouldn’t. it was nothing but stubborn. all whale grease and fish bones that slowly, achingly, surrendered themselves one by one to the sea. its houses sagged and swelled under the weight of the sea air, as if they too wanted to be swallowed up. and the acrid smell of brine never lifted, lingering like a fog of death.

she stayed because there was nowhere else to go – not while toji fushiguro hunted the seas.

the whole world was at a standstill for the devil of the sea.

too afraid to move.

too afraid to dream.

that was what her parents told her. it was what the whole town whispered underneath their breath, cursing their lot in life the moment they woke to face another day.

so, there was nothing much else to do except watch the world trudge on through the oil and sea and scum.

and so she watched.

she would sit atop a cracked oil barrel at the docks, her bandaged hand resting on her lap like a chain, and take in the faces of the sailors and pirates and their ships. they had the air of those who weren’t bound to this place. there was something slow in their gait, she noticed, like the sluggish lull of a tide lapping against the shoreline. it was because they were caught between someplace between ambition and survival, hesitating for far too long on their decision to stay or go. but the hungry promise of a fleeting life of adventure was far stronger than the bleak endlessness of simply existing in a place like this.

so, in the end, like most, they chose to leave.

but some lingered just long enough to notice her.

curiosity would spark in their faces, their skin weathered and worn by the sun, as they took in the sight of a lone girl perched on the edge of an oil barrel. she looked half-drowned and lost all at once, staring at everything around her with little thought behind her eyes. a flicker of interest would ignite in their bellies, and for a moment, they looked like they were about to approach her. perhaps they wanted to help light a fire in her eyes, or to indulge in a fleeting moment of a blazing rush of desire. because maybe, just maybe, she sat here day after day because they were the bright red apple of her eye.

until a fellow crew-mate, older and wiser than them, sharply hit their shoulder in warning. they’d point to her hand wrapped in bandages, and a mild disgust embedded in their frown.

and just like that, whatever interest they had fizzled into something full of pity.

because they knew.

they all knew.

she was the girl destined to be claimed by the devil of the sea.

and there was no point in trying to love a doomed soul, was there?

(no,

they know that you are mine to keep.)

it was then that she realized, for the first time really, just how much her devil was not just a figure in her story.

toji fushiguro was in everything.

a deep rot that had taken root, sinking his teeth and knives into anyone who dared to hope. he was festering in her mother’s steadily unraveling mind, cutting her strings apart. he lived in the hollow ache of her father’s aging joints and bones, and in the ragged coughs the sailors hacked as they smoked their cigars and pipes. even in the strange milk the priest kept drinking behind the church when he thought he was alone – something forbidden, most certainly unholy.

it made his eyes droop and turn bloody, made him slur his words between his lying lips.

(and,

i am in you, of course.)

and so the years went by.

she stood at the top of a sand dune, the salt-tinged wind lashing at her cheeks and stinging her skin as the moon sighed, trying to soothe her from the disorienting dizziness she felt. this happened often now. she would fall asleep and then wake in a haze by the sea. she had no memory of how she got there, but knew that it was something in her dreams that called her there.

it was also something in the air. something barely even there, an eeriness like a spider sneaking across its web.

it was the sound of his breath.

she knew it was.

it was the constant push and pull of the tides that gave it away. a harsh exhale of choking foam, followed by a ragged inhale of coarse sand. if she breathed along with its rhythm, she would be breathing as he did.

oddly, it made her sad.

it did not seem like toji fushiguro breathed easily.

the sea gushed before her, a spray of water begging her to come just that little bit closer.

(touch me,

let me feel you, my love.)

she couldn’t.

not yet.

the whispers of the sea had also grown stronger with time too. it begged her to go to the shore and touch the waves, or to climb the cliffs to feel the sting of its salt on her cheeks and hear the cries of screaming gulls. anything to beckon her closer to it, to him. when she was seventeen, after too many nights where she almost touched the seawater, parents began barring the door shut at night with a wooden plank to stop her from walking away in her sleep. it was a sturdy, heavy thing that her father struggled to lift night after night.

“he’s getting closer,” her mother muttered through teeth-bitten nails, rocking back and forth on her chair. “in the night.”

her father only shook his head in the way a man wallowing in self pity would, his hands still trembling from the effort of lifting the plank. it was something that made the air taste sour, worse than the smell of the spilled milk embedded into grooves of the table she sat at everyday. this was his lot in life – her, her mother, and this shabby, rotting town. whatever dreams he had once, and she knew that he had them, had abandoned him the day she was born, carried off in the wind blowing through the sails of the pirates who left the dock.

“in the night, in the night.”

she felt sorry for him, really.

the darkness of dusk stretched long and far, broken only by a pathetically sparking fire and single candlestick, weeping wax dripping in a steady stream down onto the table. and it was silent, save for the hammering raindrops beating against the window and roof like it was impatient to break through the fragile boundaries of her home. her father would stare into the fire, stoking it occasionally, probably pretending he was lost at sea. her mother babbled incoherently, spitting into her hands as she spoke to god standing just outside the window.

god must be soaked to the bone, she imagined, all chattering teeth and stuttering prayers in a storm that seemed it would never go away.

she would sit there placidly, breathing in the stale, cold air, tracing the mark on her wrist and wondering about toji fushiguro. she imagined what he looked like, but then again, she didn’t need to. she already knew him. he was rougher than stone, hotter than fire, a storm that would bash and thrash and break anything he wanted. she couldn’t imagine what his voice sounded like, but only that she knew it somewhere deep inside herself.

it was a thing familiar and impossible.

“he’s in the night!”

her mother’s calloused palms, slick with spit, were on her bare wrist before she could react.

a scream stilled in her throat.

her mother was looking at her like she could see the bloody hearts in her dreams, hear the call of the song of the sea and its master. perhaps she could see, maybe even hear it after all. a mother’s bond to their child transcends reason, and who knew if there was actually some measure of reality to be had in all this maddness?

but all she could think of was how long it had been since anyone had touched her skin.

and how much she craved it.

a little part of her understood the priest.

“i know a way,” her mother said suddenly, her voice full of clarity like the sun parting through the clouds. “i know a way to get rid of this devil.”

both her and her father were taken aback.

a sharp gust of wind rattled the doorframe from outside.

(you will not.

she is mine, and i am hers.)

the voice was not her mother’s.

it wasn’t her father’s, either.

it was something older and bigger than any of them. a vast thing with the weight of history and the tides and the eroding shorelines.

toji fushiguro’s voice rumbled through her like thunder, slipping into the front of her mind where it had always belonged. it curled beneath her skin, a pressing touch settling between the flesh of her ribs, and oh god, she knew it like it was her own. she didn’t think her mother heard it, or maybe she didn’t care.

to be mad was to be unyielding in your resolve.

her father tugged on her mother, firmly trying to pry her away from her child, but she violently shrugged him off.

“mother, stop!” she wailed, back against her chair as her heels scraped against the floor. “you’ll be cursed.”

her mother only smiled.

but it was not reassuring, there was no warmth or love behind it.

“hah! don’t fear, my little girl,” her mother said, pulling her closer, but all she could feel was sheer terror. “the witches are coming.”

(then,

die.)

the wind screamed again.

𖤓

©storiesoflilies 2025, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.

[bluepandaears]

I am not a dedicated author and haven't written anything approximating a fic in longer than I care to think about, but this just sort of happened. I figure if I was going to put it out into the world there's not much better place than this.

Smile

When Charles was 9 his dad gave him a black eye, it wasn't the first and certainly wouldn't be the last. It was summer holidays and he'd lost track of time playing outside and missed curfew. He only ever got visible bruises when school was out and the first of the season never failed to surprise.

As soon as he was allowed out of his basement room he walked down to the park and sat on a bench enjoying the fresh air and openness of the grass field. After being locked up he would always seek out the most open, outdoor space he could find. Imagine he could dissolve into the wind and float away with the clouds.

Today he's across from a playground. From where he's sat he can see some kids playing. Looks to be a group of siblings, each with an ice lolly. As Charles watches the middle child stands at the top of the slide waiting to go down. In an act of dominance the oldest one runs up the slide blocking it and in doing so drops his lolly. Anger flashes across his face before he grabs the ice lolly from his younger sibling. Hurt the middle child lashes out, but not at her older brother. She doesn't go to their parents either, not paying attention a little ways away. No, she runs over to the youngest and snatches his ice lolly from his little hands. Charles watches as tears well up in his little eyes, unable to retaliate or deal with the loss of a treat. Charles wonders if maybe now the youngster will turn to the adults. Instead he watches as the young boy, no more than 5, wedges himself into a crawl space under the climbing frame and cries alone over his loss.

It is at this point that Charles resolves to never treat others the way his father treats him.

******

When Charles is 12 he has his first crush. A girl named Hazel. She has blue eyes and light brown hair and barely knows he exists. She's a few years older and speaks in that self assured way people do when they know exactly what they are talking about and don't care what others think.

Charles hasn't learned to talked like that.

He never gets up the courage to talk to her.

******

When Charles is 14 he meets a boy that he is absolutely sure he will be best friends with forever. Elijah laughs at his jokes and doesn't mind when Charles watches him study. Charles is older now, and wiser, so he's positive he knows what he's talking about. Even if he still can't always talk like Hazel used to. They hang out nearly every day and it's brills. Until his dad finds out and decides Charles should stop putting so much effort into another boy. He gets a good lashing and a sprained shoulder and wears one of the many dark red polos his mum bought incase his back bleeds through. The next time he hangs out with Elijah he flinches away from touches and doesn't smile when Elijah tries for a joke. Charles won't explain because home life isn't something he knows how to talk about, and the whole afternoon is just a bit uncomfortable. They don't hang out as much after that and eventually Elijah stops trying.

It is at this point that Charles resolves to alway keep smiling. Even if he's hurting. People have left before when he flinches away but it's never hurt to loose someone like it hurts to loose Elijah.

******

When Charles is 15 he gets sent to boarding school. He thinks it might just be the best thing ever.

Then he learns how poorly he actually fits in. That's ok though, Charles has had a lifetime of learning how to fit in. He has his smiles, and his red polos, and his easy way of brushing off bad things and not passing them on.

It'll be fine.

Until it's not.

******

When Charles is 16 he dies.

In death he meets Edwin. Edwin has brown hair and eyes that Charles is sure change colour with his mood. He talks like Hazel and laughs like Elijah. He studies and doesn't mind that Charles watches. He doesn't leave when Charles forgets and flinches because Edwin flinches too.

Charles still smiles when it hurts because he can't risk loosing Edwin, but then Charles finds things don't hurt as much as they used to.

He still wears his red polo because it's habit by now innit? And he can never be sure that when things get bad his back wont still bleed from memory.

He finds it's easy to be nice to Edwin and protect him from bad things. Edwin had been through Hell after all so Charles figures he deserves someone to protect him from bad things now.

******

Over three decades later when Charles is still 16 he learns that he doesn't always have to smile. That the people who matter to him now will not leave just because he's hurting or having a bad day. That if he's hurting and doesn't smile they will actually stay closer.

He learns that he no longer wears the red polo in case his back bleeds through. He wears it because at some point in their friendship Edwin once said he looked good in red. And Edwin's opinion matters more than anything.

He learns that he likes being good because he is good and not because he is trying not to be his father.

Charles no longer worries about when it will be summer holidays and the first visible bruise. Instead he and Edwin go on walks through parks and along the river and enjoy being free.

And freedom with Edwin is better than brills.

~ fin

[gguk-n]

Falling for you again (Lewis Hamilton x Reader)

Summary- Getting the happily ever-after the two of them deserved.

There's a lot of domestic couple shit. Sorry, took me a while. Kinda long. Hope you enjoy this. This took longer than I hoped.

Part 1

Il mio dolce fratello maggiore- my sweet older brother

Sorellina- baby sister

Continued from where we left off

[Reader's POV]

Lewis closed the gap between us, our lips met softly but with an intensity of the yearning we felt for each other. It felt familiar yet tinged with the feeling of something new. His hands cupped my cheeks while mine grasped his shirt, pulling him closer. He smiled into the kiss at the close proximity. We were forced to pull away due to the lack of oxygen. He rest his forehead against mine, trying to catch his breath. "Even after so many years, you do not fail to take my breath away" he breathed out, barely above a whisper but I heard it. A crimson hue bloomed across my neck and cheeks; moving away from Lewis, only to be pulled back into a kiss with a slight force. "I have plans for dinner, Lew" the old nickname back, as I tried to free myself from his grasp. "How do you expect me to stop after getting you back after so many years?" he mumbled against my lips, pulling me in by my waist for another kiss. I smiled, "You haven't gotten me back yet" I teased. "I'll spend the rest of eternity trying" he whispered; squeezing my waist as he kissed me harder. I was able to finally pull away; "Ok, Lew, I have dinner plans with Marco and Kimi" I stated. "I could join you" he suggested. "Marco will probably have your head on a stick" I replied casually. "Why?" he quizzed. "Well, I did cry to him after we broke up and he was very angry at you. You know how girls are after a break up" I teased. I saw his adam's apple bob as he gulped in fear. "Play your cards right and maybe this time, you'll get to meet my family" I commented. "Let me know what everyone likes, I might have to start buying their affection" he thought out. "Can I have your number?" I asked shyly, I felt like a teenager, back at Silverstone 18 years ago. I left after we exchanged numbers.

I got dressed up for dinner and met the two of them in the hotel lobby. The restaurant was a 10 minute walk from the hotel, so we decided to enjoy the Monaco evening breeze. At the restaurant, we were seated after a bit of wait but the food was served promptly. I took a sip of my chardonnay when Kimi spoke up, "You and Lewis should date, or you'll end up alone with only me and my sister as your only visitors in your old age home." Marco dropped his cutlery with a clang. I almost spat my wine out; wiping my lips, "What makes you say that?" I questioned. "Both of you are single, and that would mean you would be there at more races" he continued. "I knew there was an ulterior motive" I laughed. Marco also having gained his composure back. We finished up with dinner and on the walk back I spoke to Marco, "Il mio dulce fratello maggiore" "What do you want?' Marco asked annoyed. "What can't I be nice?" I feigned innocence. "I've known you since you were born. Spill it" he replied. "Well" I paused, "I may or may not have agreed to a date with someone" I continued cautiously. "That's good news. Who's the lucky guy?" he asked excitedly. "Lewis" I pursed my lips. He looked at me in disbelief, "Sorellina" he spoke, "You remember how distraught you were" he smiled sorrowfully; "I just worry about you" he finished speaking. "I know, but I was 21. I'm older and wiser. I won't be reckless. I just, he's always been the one that got away. I just....this feels like a second chance." I said. He hummed in response, "If you're happy then I'm happy. But this time, if he makes you cry, I'm breaking his bones" he commented seriously. "Marco, don't scare him off just yet" I whined. "I'm looking out for you" he said, shaking his head. "What are you guys talking about with out me?" Kimi asked running back to us to stand in between.

After reaching the hotel, I went to sleep. I woke up to a text from Lewis asking what hotel I was in. I ended up texting him back only to be told to pack my bag because he was checking me out so that I could stay with him. Reasoning with him was useless; he can be relentless. I packed my stuff, got dressed and waited for Lewis in the lobby. He drove up to the entrance in his blue Ferrari. He took my stuff and put it in his car. He held the door for me and even buckled my seatbelt. The ride back was quick. We got out of the car and Lewis carried my stuff in. We spent the next couple of days walking around Monaco avoiding any paparazzi and spending as much of our time as possible wrapped up in each others embrace. "Can I be your boyfriend?" Lewis asked while we were laid in bed. "Didn't I tell you?" I giggled. "What?" Lewis whispered. "I accepted you as my boyfriend the time we kissed on the paddock." I whispered back. The smile on Lewis's lips could give any man a run for his money. He started peppering my face with kisses and thank yous in between.

Time flew by really quickly and it was finally time for me to return back to Italy. As I zipped up my suitcase, "Darling, I own a private jet, I'll fly you out" Lewis spoke. "Babe, you have a race next week. You should focus on that." I said. "Darling, I can't bear to be away from you" he said while wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing my shoulder, slowly tracing his arms lower. His lips moved up to suck on my neck. I extended my neck to give him more access. His hands cupped my ass pulling me closer to grind against him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and brought his lips against mine. "When is your flight again?" he asked in between desperate sloppy kisses. "2 hours" I hummed against him finally pushing him away, "I'm gonna miss my flight" I went back making sure I had finish packing everything up.

Lewis reluctantly dropped me off at the airport. The flight back was bittersweet. We weren't able to see each other for almost a month until, Silverstone. Lewis had literally begged me to come since it was his home race. I was a little apprehensive and only after a lot of begging did I agree to go. When Kimi found out I was going to be coming, he was so ecstatic. He had planned out a weekend with me. How was I gonna escape him? was the only thought on my mind.

Kimi flew in with Marco and I came in a day later due to work. Lewis had come to pick me up at the airport even though I had asked him not to. The British media was in a frenzy and I had no plans of having my privacy violated as soon as I set foot on British soil. Also, I hadn't told any one about Lewis yet except Marco and Manuela. I felt like Lewis was a spy in another life because we evaded the British media with more ease than I expected. Lewis lead me up to his hotel suite which had a great view of the city. We stood facing the window with his arms wrapped around my torso and his chin buried in my neck. "How do you look this pretty even after a flight?" he mumbled. I couldn't help but laugh, "Amore it was 2 hours long" "Still" he hummed pecking my shoulder. "You should freshen up, we gotta leave for media day" he said, trailing kisses up my shoulder to the back of my ear. "I'm meeting up with Kimi, it's his sprint qualifying today" I said meeting his eyes. It seems to me that Lewis had plans I had just throttled. He immediately stepped back. "You know, he's like my own son. I can't miss his race when I'm here" I continued. "No, you should go. It would mean a lot to him" he said, sounding a bit deflated.

The qualifying finished without a hitch, Kimi just happy to have me around. Me and Marco hung out together till it was time to head back. There was this feeling of unease since the morning since I couldn't go with Lewis. The next day was Kimi's sprint race and I went to the circuit with him. The race was quite exciting since Kimi won his maiden race. Toto was over the moon and was running towards Kimi faster then Marco. I was so proud of Kimi who was so happy that me and his parents were there to be able to witness his maiden win. We spent the evening together and I even made plans for a huge celebrations once we were home.

On Sunday, I woke up later then Lewis, who had kissed my forehead good bye as he left for the paddock. I got dressed and went there adorned in my Lewis Hamilton merch. Kimi and Marco would were celebrating F2 race weekend which I had politely declined saying that I was exhausted. I knew that if I missed the race, Lewis would probably kill me. I immediately found the Mercedes hospitality where Toto greeted me and couldn't stop talking about Kimi's win and George's pole. I scanned the area for Lewis hoping to be saved from Toto's droning. Thankfully I was saved by Roscoe who had escaped his father's grasp and run full speed towards me. I bent down to pet him when Lewis came running to us with a smile, "He know's who is mummy is. Good boy" Lewis said while scratching his ear. Toto's jaw was on the floor. "He better" I giggled taking his leash in my hand. "You are very irresponsible Amore" I laughed. "Well, I can't do much when my son's a mumma's boy" he smirked. I felt a blush make it's way towards my cheeks. George had also joined in on the conversation when he heard mom. Lewis took my other hand in his and introduced me to the team as the love of his life. The blush only turned a shade deeper as everyone gathered around to greet and congratulate us. I got to finally meet his parents too, who looked so happy.

There wasn't a boring moment during the race. Everything was so thrilling. I found myself talking to his parents and then consoling George towards the later half of the race watching Lewis cross the chequered flag, winning his 9th home race. I found tears falling from my eyes while I hugged his mum. I ended up following the Mercedes crew to Lewis. He got out of the car and hugged his parents. While I watched the happy moment play out, next thing I know my lips are on Lewis after he had come running towards me with his helmet in his hand. The camera flashes went crazy as Lewis pulled away. "I'm so happy I get to share this with you" he whispered. "I'm happy I get to share this with you too" I whispered back.

The media was in a frenzy, not only did Lewis break his own record of most race wins at a circuit but he also just announced his relationship. My phone was blowing up from friends and family alike. We spent the night together. I would deal with everyone else another time. A 9 time Silverstone race winner needed my attention right now.

I invited Lewis to come back home with me since my parents were way to excited to meet Lewis. There was a feast when we got there and Kimi was sulking in the corner by the time I got to him after talking with everyone and introducing Lewis to them. "Hey, dolce bambino. What's up?" I asked tapping on Kimi's shoulder. "You could've told me before you know" he mumbled. "It hasn't been long since we started dating." I replied. "Well, you could kiss him on national television but not tell your god son" he grumbled. "Aww, I'm sorry sweetheart." I cooed pinching his cheeks. He moved his face away from me shaking his head. "I'm happy you got to be with the guy you never forgot" he said cheekily. "What?" I asked in shock. "He's the one you always talked about to mum after all of your breaks up, isn't he?" he smirked. "You're too smart for your own good. Let's go meet your Zio Lewis." I said while leading him to Lewis. My grandmother had loaded Lewis's plate with all her favourites. I was thankfully able to get my boyfriend back from her clutches.

Lewis got along well with my family, I thought as I watched him play with my nieces and nephews and help my dad around. At the end of the day, we were sat on my childhood bed while I showed him all of my albums and the trinkets I had collected over the years. A small smile played across his lips as he watched me pull album after album. "I hope our daughters are are cute and pretty as you" he said while holding an album. I turned around with a shocked expression on my face, "I hope our sons are as handsome and talented as you" I remarked. "I was gonna wait, maybe make it a little more special but I just can't wait, not when you are sat in front of me talking about our children." Lewis said, sliding down from my bed to get on one knee. Now I was extremely shocked with my hands over my mouth and my eyes filled with tears. "I showed this to your dad and he agreed that it was totally your style." he said while pulling out a black velvet box with a ring inside. "yes" I crocked out. "No, wait" Lewis cut me off. "I wrote this whole thing, and you're gonna listen to me." he said, making me giggle. I smiled watching him continue, "Y/N Y/L/N you were my first adult relationship and you taught me so much. The day I walked away from you was the day I left a part of me with you. Right now, I kneel in front of you to ask you to keep me forever with you. I hope that you will let this stupid man wrong his rights and let him love you for the rest of his life. I hope we get to grow old and wrinkly and watch our grandchildren on the porch or the paddock. I hope you will have me as I wish to have you." he finished speaking waiting for me to speak. But I was blown away. I was ugly crying with make up streaking my face; all I could do was nod. Lewis slipped the ring onto my left ring finger while I moved down to the floor in front of him. "I love you Lewis Hamilton. Thank you for coming back to me. I'll cherish you for the rest of my life." I said while wiping away the snot. Lewis wrapped his arms around me, bringing me in a tight embrace.

We got married in a private ceremony in Sicily where Lewis had initially planned to propose to me. It was as intimate and private as it gets when your friends and family are Italian. We got married in the summer break after Lewis's first year in Ferrari. The ceremony was wonderful and scenic as we vowed to be there for each other in sickness and health, in wealth and prosperity and for better or for worse. I had lost the love of my life once and I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

Only a little while later, our prayers were answered when I got pregnant with our first child. I knew Lewis would be a great dad, he was already planning out the kart he would gift his child the moment they were born. There were fights among the drivers on who would be the god father but we had decided that it would be Nico, who Lewis had reconciled with.

Watching Lewis interact with our children as I brought out the freshly baked muffins out to the patio. "Mamma, look at dad and Antonio." my daughter, Claudia called out. I walked out to find both my husband and son running around. I placed the muffins on the outdoor table and called them out to eat; all of them dug in. "I love it mamma" Antonio mumbled while chowing down on the muffins. Lewis wrapped his arms around my waist smiling at the scene in front of us. "I love you babe" Lewis said while pressing a kiss on my lips. "I love you too, Amore" I whispered back before I heard my kids making gaging noise making us laugh.

I was happy and getting back with Lewis was the best decision in my life.

Hope you like it

Tag list- @c23oj @unknownmystery22 @lh44girl

[texas-writes]

Special Girl

Cw: pining, mentions of masturbation, piv sex, protected sex, oral (m&f receiving), fingering

The sound of your front door opening and closing was normal, someone was always on the move, but your interest was piqued when you heard your brother laughing, indicating he probably had a friend over, and you prayed it wasn’t who you thought it was

Your brother’s best friend growing up was Leon Kennedy. He was just a year older than you, and you’d always had a huge crush on him. Actually, crush was a weak word for this.

You were

hand-in-your-panties-like-your-life-depended-on-it obsessed with him.

You were a slut for him and he was none the wiser.

You sat and thought for a moment before making up your mind. Timing it perfectly, you crossed the hall to the bathroom as your brother came up the stairs with his friend, letting you see who it was.

Fuck, it was Leon.

He seemed much more handsome than he was the last time you had seen him. Maybe it was because it was summer, but his skin was tanner and his hair was more blond than usual. He was Adonis in the flesh, everything you could ever want.

You spend a few moments pretending to use the bathroom, flushing the toilet and washing your hands to make it convincing. Then you duck back across the hall and into your room.

It’s begun to get dark and you're laying on your bed wrapped in just a blanket reading National Geographic. You’d gotten accepted to Penn State for anthropology, and you wanted to spend your summer preparing for when school started up. Your walls were covered in clippings from previous issues, the city of Petra, the carved churches of Lalibela, ancient statues, any picture that interested you honestly. You loved to look around your room at them all while you thought.

You’re pondering what all you’re going to take to your dorm when you hear the garage door rumble open. Your father was home, which meant it was almost dinner time.

A groan escapes your lips as you roll off the bed and shuffle to your closet to find clothes. You clutch your blanket around your shoulders like a cloak as you dig around, pulling out an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of basketball shorts. Not exactly the best dinner outfit, but decent. You knew if you looked too nice your brother would pick on you for being a try-hard later.

When you go downstairs to help your mother set the table, you're more than surprised to see Leon doing it already.

“Oh Leon, you didn’t have to do that,” you say, reaching out a hand for the remaining silverware.

“Oh, hello,” he mumbles. “Your mom said I could stay for dinner, so it’s the least I can do.”

“Honey, you can get the plates. You know, Leon goes to Penn State too? Glad to know I’ll have someone to look out for you.”

Your cheeks turn pink at your mother’s words, and you're grateful that your back is turned. Look out for you.

“So uh, how do you like it?”

“S’alright, I guess. Better than being sent to Harvard, like my old man wanted. He wanted me to be a lawyer.”

“That’s good. Are you going for criminology like you wanted?”

“Yeah. I’m really glad to have done it. It was nice, standing up to him for once.”

“Yeah…”

After dinner’s been served and you’re just sitting there, poking at your plate, halfheartedly pretending to listen to your brother ramble about the upcoming soccer season, you can finally say you’re bored. Your father replies to whatever it was David had just said when you feel a foot brush against yours.

At first, you thought it was an accident, but when it happens again, you look up, meeting Leon’s eyes as he chews before looking back down at your plate. A few moments pass without another brush, so you cautiously stretch your leg out and bump your foot against his. Leon doesn't react to your touch, he just keeps eating.

Maybe it was an honest mistake. You mentally berate yourself for thinking he would touch you on purpose. You jump slightly when you feel his foot on your calf, gently stroking it.

“You alright, y/n,” Leon questions, looking as innocent as possible while he torments you, unbeknownst to your family.

“Yeah, just a chill, that’s all.”

“Oh, okay,” he shrugs, turning his attention back to David and your father.

Your cheeks burn and you take a couple more feeble bites before asking to be excused.

You laid awake that night, wondering what the fuck that was all about. God, you really needed to piss.

You rolled out of bed and pulled on your fluffy robe before heading to the bathroom.

When you step out of the bathroom, you bump into someone.

“Sorry David, didn’t see you.”

“And where are you going, pretty girl?”

Fuck. Nobody told you Leon was spending the night.

“J-just back to bed.”

“Why d’ya sound so nervous, hm,” he questions, backing you into the bathroom and closing the door.

“You scared me, that’s all.” Your robe was riding up and the counter was so, so cold against your bare ass.

“Just like you were chilly at dinner, right,” he questions, you can hear the grin in his voice as he lowers his head beside your ear, lifting your chin with his finger.

“Leon…”

“What, baby? Say the word and I’ll stop.”

“Please, don’t,” you whisper

He leans away and takes a step back.

“No, wait- that’s not what I meant, Leon please.”

“Ah, so you do want me then?”

You nod.

“That isn’t enough, sweetheart I want you to say it.”

“Leon, that’s not fair, please. Need you.”

He chuckles to himself and returns to his original position, lips brushing against your neck as he speaks.

“You need me, hm?”

You nod again, slightly aware of how pathetic you’re being, but too caught up in Leon’s affection to care.

“What does my pretty girl want, hm? How bad do you need me,” he whispers, brushing his fingers up your thigh and under your robe.

“Nothing on under there. Was that intentional or did I just catch you at a good time?”

“I never wear anything to bed,” you murmur, bringing your hand up to rest in his hair, giving it a slight tug as his lips abuse the tender flesh of your shoulder, teeth grazing against your collarbone as he groans.

“Go wait for me in your room. I’m gonna make sure we won’t be bothered.”

You nod softly and poke your head out of the bathroom, making sure no one's watching as you scurry across the hall into your room while Leon hangs back.

After what felt like eternity, Leon comes into your room, easing the door shut behind him and sliding the lock into place. Your nerves are absolutely shot, and you shiver as you watch Leon come towards you, the way his tight shirt hugged his broad shoulders and slim waist, accentuating his silhouette.

“Is everyone asleep,” you question, pushing yourself up in the bed, tugging your robe tighter around yourself.

“Yeah,” he hums, sliding into your bed beside you, taking a swatch of your pink satin sheets between his fingers and feeling it. “Nice sheets, I see why you sleep naked.”

You giggle and rest your head on his shoulder. You had been awkward around Leon for as long as you could remember, In middle school, watching him from across the cafeteria as he flipped through an X-Men comic and filled out the mail-in sheet on the back, or in high school when he shrugged at every girl that tried to ask him out and you had been so sure he’d give you the same answer, so you’d never bothered.

Despite being dismissive most of the time, he was there when it mattered, like your junior year, when you had snuck out and gone to a local college party and gotten absolutely smashed. Leon had been there too and followed you around all night, shielding you from grabbing hands and switching your drinks out for water as the night wore on before driving you home and helping you sneak back into your window. Or when he’d come hiking with your family and you’d gotten water intoxication and he’d carried you back to the car to cool you off and taken you to get some extra salty fries while your family finished their hike.

But things were different now, you were both adults, and you knew that he wanted you as he tilted your chin up and pressed his lips to yours softly while his free hand went up to caress your cheek. His hands were calloused from his frequent visits to the gym, but they felt so good as they roamed your features, tracing the curve of your lips. The bridge of your nose, the arch of your brow. You wanted nothing more than to feel his hands all over your body.

“Leon,” you whine, tugging at the hem of his shirt, trying to get him to take it off. He finally takes the hint and pulls his shirt off and drops it on the floor. You yelp as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his lap.

“Shh, we still gotta be quiet, baby. Can’t get caught can we, then I can’t come visit anymore, hm?”

“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting it,” you whisper, leaning in and kissing along his jaw.

“Mh, feels good,” he mumbles, exposing his neck to you as you trail kisses all across his throat, grazing your teeth along his Adam’s apple, making his breath hitch.

When you pull away your robe is barely covering enough of you to be considered decent. Leon looks up to meet your eyes, groaning when you untie your robe and let it slide down your shoulders, exposing your shoulders and the tops of your breasts. He allows his gaze to drop back to the soft plain of your tummy, the curve of your hips and the way the blanket wrapped around your hips pools between your legs just enough to cover the one thing he needs the most.

You can feel him, straining against his shorts as you cautiously lower yourself to brush your pussy along his sensitive bulge.

“You should take these off Lee,” you hum, tugging at the waistband of his shorts.

He nods and lifts his hips, allowing you to pull them down so he can kick them off. He groans as his cock springs free from the confines of his pants, standing at attention, so close to your entrance he can feel the warmth coming from you.

You shrug your robe the rest of the way off and drop it down with Leon’s clothes, moving from his lap, kneeling beside him and resting your head on his thigh and kissing it softly once before licking along the underside of his cock, making him grip at the sheets.

You tease him relentlessly, kissing and licking at the tip of his cock, your warm breath fanning against his skin. He lets out a deep groan when you finally take him in, tongue swirling around him as you take him deeper into your mouth. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as he tangles his fingers into your hair and guides you to take him into your throat.

“You’re such a good girl,” he whispers. “You’re taking me so well, fuck,” he moans bringing his other hand to caress your cheek.

Leon studies the way your body moves as you pleasure him, the arch of your back, the curve of your ass, the way you look up at him as you moan around him.

“M’gonna cum, fuck. You gonna let me cum in your mouth?”

You nod weakly as you take Leon deeper into your throat, pressing your nose against his tummy as he finishes. You lap at his tip, making sure you don't miss anything as you pull away, swallowing thickly and gasping softly as Leon pushes your hair out of your face and smoothing it down.

“You did so good for me,” he praises, stroking your cheek and motioning for you to lay back. “Let me return the favor, hm?”

“Please,” you whine, laying back on your bed, watching intently as Leon takes his place between your legs, right where you’ve always wanted him, tips of his fingers lazily trailing along your thigh while he looks up at you.

He teases your entrance before easing two of his fingers into you, making you whimper.

“I don’t normally do this, but you’re my special girl,” he whispers, ducking his head between your thighs and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. “But you have to be quiet, okay?”

“I’m your special girl,” you question, a warm blush spreading across your cheeks as he rests his head on your thigh, his hair tickling the tender flesh there.

“Always have been. Why do you think I look after you like I do? You promise you’re gonna be quiet?”

You nod and give him a gentle smile, laying back into the pillows and running your fingers through his silky hair. He curls his fingers into you, testing the honesty of your statement, pleased when you only let out a soft whimper and lock your ankles around his shoulders.

Leon takes your encouragement and buries his face between your thighs, tongue lathing against you as his fingers continue their steady rhythm inside you. Your soft moans and the way you tug at his hair are more than enough to drive him insane, urging him to focus his attention on your clit to draw more out of you, his fingers lazily curling into your sweet spot as he grinds his hips into the mattress, looking for a little relief of his own.

“Leon, ah- ‘m so close.”

You can feel him grin against you as he nudges his nose against your clit before taking it back between his lips, making you shove your fist in your mouth as he draws an orgasam out of you. He chuckles and just keeps eating you, not caring about the way your legs shake around him, or your heels digging into his back, or the way you’re dangerously close to ripping out a chunk of his sandy blond hair. No, all he cares about are those cute little noises you’re making, accented only by the occasional whine when he brushes his fingers against that spot inside you.

Finally he pulls away, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he crawls his way up to you, his fingers still buried to the hilt in your dripping cunt.

“How was that? Hm? Anyone ever done that for you before?”

You shake your head and he grins, leaning down to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. You can taste yourself and it’s one of the hottest things you think you’ve ever experienced.

“You think you’re ready for me, baby?”

“Yeah… I can take it.”

“We’ll see,” he teases, pulling his fingers out of you, making you whine at the sudden emptiness, and brings them to his mouth, sucking all of you off of them. “You know baby, you’re just so damn good, don’t want to waste it.”

You reach up and wrap an arm around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss, teasing your tongue against his lip, smiling against him when he allows the intrusion. He pulls away and you reach for him, but he doesn’t yield to your grabbing hands, reminding you that he’s just been a willing participant in your arms until now.

“You have a condom?”

“I’m on birth control.” That’s what guys really wanted to hear, right?

“Not good enough.” Oh. He actually wanted one.

“Top drawer of the nightstand, not sure they’ll fit though.”

“You flatter me. Ah, here.” He rifles through the drawer until he finds one, tearing the little foil packet open with his teeth, hissing softly as he rolls it on.

He’s back on top of you as soon as he’s got it in place, grinding his hips against yours and pulling your legs around his waist.

“See, now you can keep those pretty legs of yours around me as long as you want and we don’t have to worry.”

You giggle and reach between your bodies, taking him into your hand and giving him a couple of strokes before lining him up with your entrance. He eases himself into you until he bottoms out, using one hand to lace his fingers with yours while the other grips at your headboard.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good. Didn’t know what I was missing until now.”

He starts out with a slow pace, taking the time to pull almost completely out of you before sliding back in, relishing in the way you push your hips up to meet his. Taking it slow was almost unbearable, but you were his special girl after all, and he wanted you to know he’d look after you however you wanted, even if it meant torturing himself to get you used to him.

After a small eternity you tell him to speed up and he doesn't need to be told twice. His thrusts become short and deep, the sound of your bodies meeting filling the stuffy silence of your room as he keeps his lips on yours swallowing down the moans that tumble from your lips. He takes his hand from yours to knead at your breast, enjoying the way they bounce every time his hips slam into yours. He knows you’re close by the way you tighten around him, so he opts to lean back and grab your hips, digging his fingertips into the supple flesh there, setting a punishing pace as his own hips stutter and he lets out a whine as he cums, lazily thrusting to carry you through before pulling out and falling beside you, pulling the condom off and knotting it, dropping it into the trash can beside your bed.

“So,” he questions, propping himself up on his elbow. “How was that?”

You’re still laying there trying to catch your breath, so you just let out a choked sound of agreeance.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just-”

“Just what?”

“A lot of things. Good things. But-”

“Start small then.”

“None of my other boyfriends would kiss me after I sucked them off.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Sorry,” you laugh nervously, sure you’d already screwed it up.

“Don’t be. I’m not opposed to it. In fact I’d quite like to be your boyfriend, but what else.”

“And then you ate me out, and-”

“Go on.”

“I’ve never cum like that in my life.”

“Those other guys were missing out then,” he replies, wrapping his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the back of your head.

That’s what you always liked about Leon. No matter how much you could try to stroke his ego, he always took it humbly. You wiggle yourself around to face him and press a kiss to the tip of his freckled nose

“Hey, baby, I don’t want to just run out on you and ruin a good thing, but I gotta go back soon,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours before slipping out of your bed and getting dressed. You watch with a twinge in your chest as he makes his way towards the door.

“I understand. Are you gonna come see me again?”

“You know it baby,” he grins, opening the door and slipping out before easing it shut behind him.

[thecapricunt1616]

Pearls - (c.b. one-shot)

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): “Baby! Happy birthday- I’m sorry I musta woke you” he comes over, hugging you to his chest and kissing the top of your head “I got coffee all ready for you” he said and led you over to your usual spot at the island and setting down your mug, pouring you a cup and grabbing your favorite creamer from the fridge. It was creamer he made for you, fresh toasted hazelnuts and Indian vanilla beans that he made sure to take a few home whenever the restaurant got them imported. 

♡ One-Shot Inspo: Pearls are associated with feminine energy, intuition, and nurturing qualities. Some say they can enhance a woman's natural grace and elegance, and connect her with her inner femininity. Also, In many traditions, pearls symbolize love, wisdom, and inner beauty. They are often exchanged as gifts to express deep affection and admiration. ♡ Summary: It's your birthday, and your man pulls out every stop to show you just how much he loves & worships you in every way. ♡ W/C: 4,600 ♡ Posted Date: 06/06/24 ♡ A/N: Hello! This is for my darling love @carmenberzattosgf - everyone say ' HAPPY BIRTHDAY DIRTY OLIVE MARTINI!!! ' RN!!!! She truly is the love of my tumblr life, I hope you enjoy this my sweetest moot!! I hope you also had a wonderful wonderful birthday. For all you folks that have asks rotting away in my inbox (STILL) i'm sorry :( I am still working I promise, But special days like this only come once per year we have to celebrate while we can! I hope you all enjoy this in the meantime :) ♡ Warnings for BTC: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT - Incl. but not limited to *ehehem* *cracks knuckles* ; Cockwarming, Spanking, Praise Kink, Choking (hands & arm), (kinda) bondage (it’s just gift ribbon so not really? But still restrained), Daddy!kink (this is mostly for dirty olive martinis reading pleasure & no one elses really in mind, kay, it’s martinis birthday, but you can read it if it’s yours - anywhore, if you don't like the d word SCOOT ALONG) it can be avoided though im not obnoxious w/ it, heavy cavity inducing fluff & aftercare, lowkey sugar daddy!carmy, Fem!/AFAB!Reader, R has long hair, No use of Y/N, Fem!Pet names (Babygirl, Sweetheart, Babe, Baby, Princess, Good Girl, Bunny/Kitten ETC), Established relationship, Unprotected PIV sex, Creampie/Breeding kink, & Other BDSM themes.

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

365. Another 365 days had passed, and you were another year older. Another year wiser and all that. It wasn’t usually a day that was out of the blue extraordinarily different then any of the other 364 days of the year, but Carmen made sure that now that you had been official for just about 8 months - it was a day to remember. 

He had this day marked in his apple calendar from the day you’d told him, which was your second date. He felt a bit … creepy doing that so soon. But he just brushed it off as telling himself he was bad with numbers, you were the first person to bring him out of his years-long dry spell, he’d seen you more then once, and didn’t just hook up and dip afterwards, so he figured if it did go anywhere, it couldn’t hurt to make sure it was documented. 

But the day had come, and Jesus fucking Christ was he nervous. He felt stupid for being nervous, you would probably laugh if you knew he was nervous. Tell him to cut it out, that it’s not that important - to which he would give you one of his little laughs. He had big plans for the day, which started with the day off of work, but him getting up at 5 am anyway to make you a gourmet Michelin starred breakfast in bed. 

He tried being quiet as he could, but so many years screaming (and being screamed at) in a commercial kitchen, and all the clanging of pots and pans - his hearing had been a bit dented. So you did wake up to the pleasant smell of coffee and bacon, and came out to see him standing there shirtless making some kind of caramelized French toast. “Shit” he hissed as he touched the pan on accident,  shaking his hand momentarily before continuing as he always did. 

He didn’t water burns anymore unless they bled, it was just a waste of time to him otherwise. “I’m surprised you still have tattoos on your hands” you said, causing him to jump a bit, startled, and turn around to face you, dropping his spatula on the island 

“Baby! Happy birthday- I’m sorry I musta woke you” he comes over, hugging you to his chest and kissing the top of your head “I got coffee all ready for you” he said and led you over to your usual spot at the island and setting down your mug, pouring you a cup and grabbing your favorite creamer from the fridge. It was creamer he made for you, fresh toasted hazelnuts and Indian vanilla beans that he made sure to take a few home whenever the restaurant got them imported. 

“I told you you didn’t have to do anything baby it’s just another day” you said and he mixed it up with a spoon, tapping it on the rim before dropping it off in the dishwasher. 

“That’s bullshit baby you know it- it’s your day, should be a national holiday” he joked, setting another piece of the home baked brioche bread in the vanilla caramel custard mix he’d whipped up with heavy cream and setting it in the pan, sprinkling some cinnamon on top. 

“Mm right. The national day of me where everyone has to bring me presents, and you have to cook me my favorite food. Is that-“

“Your creme brûlée French toast princess, it is” he finished for you and flipped it. The smell was mouth watering. You saw on the counter a bowl with buttery white fluff in it and knew he must have made the whip cream for it too. 

“How did I manage to land the best boyfriend ever?” You muse, taking a sip of your coffee he made you that was perfect per usual. He always made sure to memorize just how you like your food and drink, among other things about you that you were sure to come later. 

It wasn’t long before there was a plate being set in front of you with bacon and eggs and amazing looking French toast that was fucking filled with strawberry filling when you cracked it to cut it, you didn’t even know how the fuck he did that. He brought the dishes to the sink, rinsing them between nibbles of his own naked French toast. 

That was how it usually went, he cooked, then insisted on cleaning, after he made you a perfect and beautiful plate of food that was so stunning you hardly could handle eating it, all while he was nibbling the leftovers or the ‘failed portions’ he called them. You still enjoyed yourself, the food was so delicious how could you not. After you’d finished breakfast it was all up to you how you wanted to do your day. 

You were already over the moon he had taken the day off to be with you, so for now in the early 8 am sun you were sat out on the balcony, smushed together on a sun chair. His arms were wrapped securely around your back as you just sat, enjoying each other's silence. It was so nice to have him this way. 

“Do you want your gift now, or later?” He asked gently, continuing to drag his fingers up and down the length of your back. Your head popped up, fuck. The sun made his eyes impossibly blue. You didn’t think eyes could be that blue until you met Carmy. He was stunning, absolutely gorgeous. Like he was carved from stone. He always got all blushy when you told him that, his cheeks and the bridge of his nose doing that sweet pink you loved so much. 

“You got me a present?” You asked, happiness lacing your tone. You did tell him specifically you didn’t want or need anything, that you’d be beyond happy if he could just get the day off of work and spend it with you, and so when he told you he would be able to do that -  you were over the moon. 

“Maybe- I might have made reservations for dinner, too. So, how about that present sweetheart?” He asked and a smile curled on your lips. 

“You’re a sappy bear” you teased and kissed his lips lovingly before getting up, taking his hand with you and he followed leading you to the bedroom. 

“I love spoiling you, what can I say?” He reached under his side of the bed, pulling out a black and white bag from under his side of the bed that made you gasp a bit when you read the font. 

Chanel?

“Carmy- Carmy this is really-“

“You don’t have to wear it, if you hate it. It’s vintage, I called in a few favors with a friend I made in my time in Italy when I was doing some shadow work in the pastry side of things. It’s uh, so it’s the 97’ spring collection” he took out a black dress bag and your heart thumped against your ribs. You hadn’t ever owned something so high end before - let alone vintage. 

“So it’s kinda reflective of the more business chic look? I guess, that’s what she said was popular at the time” he unzipped it and you watched as he peeled back the fabric to reveal a stunning black dress with pearl buttons that were breathtaking. 

“Oh- Carmen” you whispered, stepping forward and touching the soft but thick fabric, it was stiff, nearly perfect. This wasn’t…a thrifted piece “Carmy who’s dress is this? I- I mean… you got it second hand, right?” You look at him, fingers grazing over one of the smooth buttons 

“No- no babe it. Yeah, this is…I guess you can call it one of a kind? They never put it into production not…not enough companies bought the design I guess, it’s been worn by one model one time baby, for like 10 minutes. It’s practically new-“

“That’s not-“ you shook your head “I don’t care if it was thrifted that feels kind of stupid to say, but you mean that I’m the only one to have this dress? Like…like, where did you even get it?” You questioned and he chuckled a bit. 

“I didn’t. I just got to see the photos of it, well- I didn’t have the time to go to the retired fashion house with my friend and look but she FaceTimed and I picked from what they had in your size. You don’t like it? Shit…” he muttered to himself looking back at the dress and you could practically hear the negative gears turning in his head

“I fuckin love it” you inturrupted and took the hanger from him, walking over to the mirror “holy fuck I’m like-“ you giggle “I’m look like I’m straight out of gossip girl- can I try it on? No! No. Later. Later- what time is our reservation?” You turn to him and he smiled at your enthusiasm. 

“It’s at 6- but you have other gifts not just that one baby” he took a box from the bag as well as a smaller box. 

“More-“ your jaw drops, walking over to the bed. You see the ribbon tying the bigger box together and bit your lip to contain your grin at your less than pure ideas. “I think you gave more than just the gift in the box” you undid the big luxurious bow, the tendrils of ribbon cascading all the way to the floor. There was plenty of it to use for activities later. 

“Is that so?” He held you from behind, chin on your shoulder as you flipped open the lid of the box, tugging open the tissue paper and gasping. 

“Are those-“

“More pearls” he held up the bag, by its handle, tugging off the dust bag to reveal sleek crocodile leather and a ‘Chanel’ logo clasp you could have only dreamed of when you were younger. 

“Holy fucking shit” you held it in your hands, nearly feeling like you should be wearing gloves because of how beautiful and precious the bag was. “You remembered that” you said as you thumbed over the pearls on the handle and he huffed a chuckle, patting your hip. 

“I try my best to remember everything I can about you, it’s kinda my job now” he kissed your cheek “so…y’like it?” He questioned. You were in shock, really. You didn’t even want to breach the thought in your mind of how much it might have costed him, over a birthday - just one day, just your day. 

You knew Carmy was fairly frugal, the man didn’t even invest in an extra dresser to store his beloved jeans in, until you moved in, of course. When you moved in - his apartment became much more alive in a literal sense and emotional one. You had put up artwork you’d found on your trips together to thrift stores, he told you that you had an eye for it, and of course he found you the cutest outfits in return for your decorating skills. 

You had found a total of 3 bear ash trays, 5 bear coffee mugs, a Smokey the Bear T shirt (he only wore it to bed since apparently, you teased,  he was too ‘cool guy’ to wear a printed shirt in public), a set of fourteen bowls, cups, and plates that were printed with what you both assumed was the California state bear  because there was absolutely the California state flag on one of the serving platters - but it was… hand painted? You both laughed until your ribs hurt when you found it, because what the hell was it doing in Chicago? Plus, the bears looked so silly. They became your favorite plates, the very ones you had your breakfast on a few hours prior. 

“No - I..I love it. I love it - I can’t believe you remembered my birthstone.” You said gently, looking at the beautiful gold clasp. You opened it, to see the embossed stamp inside ‘made in Italy’ your heart fluttered at the sight. “I love you” you turned around and hugged him tight. He rubbed your back, enveloping you in one of his big warm hugs, his strong arms rubbing over your back and he kissed your neck gently. He hadn’t shaved yet today, so his stubble scratched at your jaw as he kissed down, over your shoulder. 

You still hadn’t changed out of the velvet robe he’d gotten you a month or so ago, he loved that robe. He saw one just like it while you were snuggling In bed one night. It was hot pink, juicy couture. Something one of Natalie’s friends he crushed on would have worn back in 2005 at a sleepover. He had hunted all over the internet for it until he found it, $90 on depop but he bought it anyway since he’d absolutely scoured the sleepwear section at every thrift in Chicago for it, no dice. 

He tugged the shoulder down, kissing over the bare skin gently before resting his nose in the nook of your neck and holding you close. “I love you bear, so much” you manage to say without sounding as tear filled as you were. “You treat me so special” you sniffled a bit, pawing away your tears quickly so he wouldn’t have to see them. He hated seeing you cry. Even when they were happy tears, it made him want to cry - and he hated crying. 

“Open y’last gift- well, second t’last we’re picking up the last on the way t’dinner” he pecked your lips sweetly and urged you to sit on the bed, setting the small box in your palm and kissing your head. “Open baby. I think you’ll look amazing” he said as you untied the box and tugged it open to reveal 2 stunning mother of pearl earrings encased in gold. 

“So- they’re vintage. Like everything else, cause I know you like it more like me y’know - quality and all that shit. But, ok so” he picked one up and showed you “they’re from the 80s, but I thought the gold was super fuckin sick. So I got em- didn’t realize they were clip on- and I called them and the lady said that was the style? Er whatever? And that they’re heavy, so it’ll be more comfortable for-“

You interrupt him with a kiss, taking the box with fumbling hands and putting it to the side, cupping his cheeks. He hummed gently into you, his hands finding yours and giving them a light squeeze. You pulled away after a few moments of intense kissing, mostly tongue and teeth and small moans coming from the both of you. You pant softly, eyes flicking down to his now red kiss bitten lips before looking back up into his ones that you could only describe as resembling his birthstone. 

“I want you to tie me up, and fuck me like you own me, that is what I want for my birthday afternoon” you toss the ribbon from the purse box at his chest and it flutters down into his lap to which he watches it and looks back at you. 

“That seems like something I should get for my birthday and that’s not for 2 months. But okay - can’t tell y’no on your birthday” he untied your robe and tugged it off, brows raising when he realized you didn’t even bother to put on panties after last nights activities. “Fuck-” he mumbled, kissing down your neck and gently nipping at the tender skin. His mouth sent trails of fire down to the pit of your core, mouthing over you in a way that made you whimper beneath him prettily. 

“Need you so bad daddy” you laid back, hair splayed over the pillow beneath you. The way his eyes raked over your naked frame would have made you insecure if it had been any other hookup you had before him. With Carmy it was different, he was observing you, trying to decide which part of you he wanted to worship first - taking his time with you was his favorite thing to do. It was never mean, never teasing, but moreso savoring the moment, he savored every single second he had of you this way like the first time, every time. 

“I gotchu babygirl” he kissed down your chest, tongue swirling and dancing over your sensitive skin, while his warm palm - so warm, so - so warm, so warm that if you were made of sugar you’d be melting into him - well, you might as well should be considering how pliant you were to his touch - was kneading at the plush fat of your thigh as he ravished your top half. “So soft” he muttered into your skin, sucking little bruises into the flesh of your breast. You watched him, mumbling soft praises into each part of you as if he was telling each body part of yours individually how perfect and meant for him they were. How you were so, so beautiful. Flawless, that was a word he often liked to use. It honestly made you blush, but over the months it made you much more confident in yourself, the negative voices you heard in your mind were usually replaced by his real voice of praise. 

“N’smell so good kitten” he nuzzled his nose in the hill of your cleavage, inhaling. “Mmm- how’d I get so lucky t’have you, hmm? Such a pretty girl wanting to spend her special day with me” you smiled at that, your cheeks felt like they were on fire, so did your cunt- clenching and clit twitching at every praise. He knew what It did to you, how wild it drove you. 

“I ask myself how I got so lucky every day, take care of me so good” you took his wrist, moving his hand needily towards your pussy that was basically crying for attention at this point “please take care of me daddy” you said gently, voice wanton and needy. 

“Oh, princess, f’course- already so wet f’me huh?” he ran his fingers through your folds, earning a pretty moan out of you, your head falling back to the pillow in bliss. “Always so responsive t’me, so well behaved” he mused, easily finding your clit and rubbing light circles over the swollen nub. Your hips buck at the contact, a whine peeling from your lips absentmindedly and hand reaching up to roll your nipples between your fingers as he kissed down your sternum, and ribs, and stomach, trailing down to where you were needing him the most.

“S-so wet” you breathe, spreading your thighs wider to make room for him. 

“God- I could spend the rest of my fuckin’ life between these legs” he kissed the same plush of your thigh he’d been pawing at earlier, spreading your nether lips with his fingers and just admiring. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever fuckin’ seen- jesus” he leaned in, his mouth finally making contact with your warmest part, licking a stripe up with the pad of his tongue. The feeling of the pressure as he padded his tongue over your throbbing, sensitive bud, could only be explained as something otherworldly by the way fireworks sprayed behind your closed lids and back arched to the sky. “Taste even better” he mumbled, it was barely audible but you absolutely felt the sensation, as it caused your hips to grind against his face and other hand that wasn’t stimulating your nipples to find the back of his head and essentially ride his face from the bottom.

You felt his tongue lapping at your entrance, before lapping back up and kissing at your clit - basically making out with your pussy, it felt so incredible your brain felt like it could melt out of your ears. “H-holy fuck” you babbled, tugging at his hair in a way that made him groan. He wasn’t exactly a masochist, but he’d told you before he loved it when you left scabs on his back for a week and when you tugged his hair so hard that it hurt the next day it made him hard thinking about it- so you made sure to give him that whenever he made it possible. 

“Yea? Like that daddy?” you breathed, you loved this game you got into. You were there to serve, he was there to praise, the perfect duality for your mixture of kinks. 

“Always so good princess, y’know exactly how t’get me off” he placed a wet, intemerate kiss on your thigh, his chin leaving a print of your glistening creamy arousal and making a click noise at the soaked contact. The action made you clench, which in turn made him smile into your heat, nudging the bridge of his nose against your clit in the way that made your hips thresh beneath him. He chuckled into you, the vibration causing a pathetic whine to leave your lips. “Jumpy bunny, mm?” he mused before continuing

Your jaw fell slack orgasm closely approaching as his middle finger broached your entrance and he sunk in to his palm, curling his finger in a come here motion, as if he was beckoning your orgasm - and It was working. Each brush of the pad of his finger against your sweetest spot made a sweet whimper leave your lips. His lips attach to your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue against it like there was no tomorrow. Your spine arched to the sky, and his other arm came across your hips, holding you firmly in place. Since you could no longer wriggle away from the heavenly stimulation - you resorted to pathetic whines and cries. 

“I-I’m cumming- ohhh- oh daddy- fu-fuuuuhuuuck- shit- ah!” you squeak, mind going fuzzy and thighs quivering as unbeknownst to you you soaked your shared sheets, little hums and ‘oh’s’ stuttering from your lips. 

“Always takin’ me so good, mm babygirl? Even on your day” you came back to him grabbing your hips and rolling you over, looking over the hill of your shoulder as his knee held your thighs down and he grabbed the at least 4 feet of Chanel printed ribbon tugging your hands behind your back and you clasped your fingers into open-fingered fists due to your manicure Carmy always made sure was no more then a week old, smiling to yourself as you mushed your cheek against the mattress while you pull your knees underneath yourself to support your upper half. “Y’lucky Mike forced me into that year of cubscouts” he muttered as he tied a decently tight reef knot into the ribbon. You giggled a bit considering the memories he told you about that year of his life. His dad was the ‘den dad’ which was his ultimate demise as his dad thought masculinity was the end all be all - so made Carmy be the first kid to kill a rabbit during their hunting exercise. But, the other memories were quite funny of him getting lost in a canoe, his first time grilling a hot dog over a fire and setting it (and a tent) on fire, you both got a good kick whenever he talked about it.

Like Richie, which was unsurprising since he was basically his second older brother - Carmy loved to tell, and retell - and retell - stories about his beloved older brother. You had figured it was because of just how much he missed him. In between getting lost in your thoughts of why you loved your boyfriend so much, you felt a sharp smack on your ass. “Answer when I talk t’you, you know the rules” he said and you whimper at the sting to which he leans down and kisses the offended cheek, thats new.

“S-sorry Daddy- I didn’t listen, please- m’sorry, say it again” you beg, looking back at him while laying on your shoulder, eyes pleading. 

“M’only gonna be nice cause its y’r day. I said, D’you want me t’stretch you out or you want another?” he brought his dominant hand to your clit, middle and forefingers pinching the pulsing nub between and tugging it back and forth with a small click, click your wetness introduced with the motion. 

“No- no- stretch me, I want it hard” you plead, wiggling your ass towards him pathetically “Want bruises daddy” you begged and he bit his lip harshly, the already red abused flesh going white with the action. 

“No - Maybe when we get home, m’not leavin’ y’black and blue before a dinner like this, the food’ll be too good f’you to be whining ‘bout it hurtin’ n’wantin’ t’come home” he spanked you rough enough to leave a stinging mark. You whimpered at the force of it

“Ok- okay- yes sir” you agreed, “N-need your cock. Please- “ you begged. He tugged you up by your wrists, carefully of course, supporting most of your weight by your ribs with his forearm and his hand trailed up your body, finding your neck and gripping just hard enough for that yummy, light feeling to grace your head. Natures high. 

“Yeah kitten? Need it? Say it again, I love hearing you beg” he tightened his hand, a small smirk coming to your lips. He always gave you exactly what you needed. 

“Pl-please, Daddy, Need you so bad- need your cum - please” he brought his lips firmly to yours, swallowing your moans as he pushed inside of you, just his tip causing you to shudder in pleasure and whine into his mouth. He squeezed your throat harder, fucking up into you relentlessly. His heavy balls slapped against the meat of your ass, kissing along your hairline as he went on an expedition to chase your next orgasm. If anything, the man was determined in bed. 

“Yeah? Need me t’fill this pretty pussy up? Yea?” he growled in your ear, smacking down on your left cheek with his other hand as he continued. You fell slack against you, not minding he was holding you by the throat and fucking up in to you like a sex doll, it felt good to be used, by him anyway.

“Fill me- please fill me up daddy- Need it- n-need your cum” you whined out. Your voice didnt even sound like yours anymore, it was horse, fucked out, needy, whorish. “So bad- so bad daddy” you added. He grunted, his forearm replacing his wrist and pulling you back as he buried himself to the hilt. He was grunting, and whining, and moaning in a way that made your cunt squeeze his cock like a vice. You gasp as he started instead of thrusting in and out, pulling his hips up and down - bringing a sensation that was making you dizzy with pleasure.

Blood roared in your ears, your g-spot was being assaulted by his tip in such a way you thought you may die from how good you felt, and his hot, raspy moans and praises about how wet, and warm you felt, along with how your pussy was sucking his cock inside - you could have died right then and it would have been more then a satisfying death, and life considering all the joy you’d run into since you’d started seeing Carmy exclusively. Without warning, you soak the sheets and Carm’s thighs. 

The noises you were making were straight up pornographic, and that wasn't lost on Carm either. The orgasm that washed over you - you swore was nearly drug-like - you’d never done them, but you swore the full body orgasm that washed over your being was something akin to a fentanyl high. It was so good,that when you came to - you were untied, and Carmy was coaxing the straw of your lilac colored Stanley bottle to your lips. “Drink, hmm princess? Y’shakin, and that was a big mess, need y’water” he cooed, gently stroking your hair with his other hand. 

“Hmm?” you sit up, a bit afraid of how much time had been lost, that had never happened before. “What - wh-what happened?” you asked a bit worried. Carmy pulled you back to his chest, kissing your temple. 

“Baby, princess, shhh- shh- here, have some water mm?” he coaxed and brushed your sweat stuck hair from your skin, bringing a relief to your boiling hot neck. You finally obliged and took a big gulp, looking up at him with worried, but trusting eyes. “S’only been 10 minutes, y’were shakin then you closed y’r eyes f’r a bit, s’ok, y’r okay sweetheart” He assured and grabbed your hairtie from your wrist, carefully tying up your hair. 

“Thank you f’takin care of me” you mumbled, resting your cheek on his sweat-sticky chest, as perv-like as it was enjoying the scent of your mixed arousal in the bedroom and rubbing your hand over his chest lovingly.  “S’my job angel, Happy birthday baby girl”

[thriftedtchotchkes]

his favorite girl, part iii

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: tensions rise as your second lesson continues, but joel still refuses to admit his feelings to you—or himself. you'd concede defeat if you really believed he didn't want you. or if his actions weren't constantly contradicting his words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, guitar teacher au, age gap (30 years), slow-burn, sexual tension, finger kink, smut, angst, f!masturbation, mild exhibitionism, mentions of guilt & shame

word count: 3.4k

series masterlist | part i | part ii

You have no idea how you're supposed to survive another afternoon with Joel, let alone an entire semester. He's basically Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, hiding under the visage of an unfairly sexy, middle-aged musician, but you never know which one you’re dealing with until he pushes you away or calls you his girl.

Today, he feels like a dangerous combination of both.

After your verbal agreement to keep things professional, yet again, he concedes and finally sits next to you on the couch. Guess that safe distance he was so desperate to maintain is null and void now that he’s made his feelings clear—sort of.

You assume his proximity is an olive branch, but it sure doesn't feel like one. Now, he's close enough to smell his cologne, an earthy, woodsy scent that's so Joel, it makes your head spin. It's also making this lesson infinitely harder to focus on.

You’d never even considered the possibility of him shutting you down this hard, but then again, a hot fling with an older guy wasn’t why you showed up on his doorstep in the first place. If he'd just admit he's interested, maybe things could be different, but he won’t, will he? So, what other option do you have?

You’re not going to throw yourself at him like some pathetic schoolgirl with a crush, even if that’s exactly what you are. You want him to want to touch you, to crave you the way you're sure he does, but right now he wants to teach you chords. Starting with C, apparently.

“We’re gonna try this chord again, alright? Same as last time, nice and slow,” he starts, reaching back to pull something out of his pocket. He presents you with a small, black piece of plastic that looks like a clamp, identical to the one on his guitar. "This here's called a capo. Go ahead and fit it right over the third fret—it’ll raise the key of the guitar. M’thinkin' that'll make things a little easier for ya."

You push your feelings to the side and accept it, following his lead and squeezing it into place before glancing up for his approval. He gives you an encouraging smile and nods, and your heart rate kicks up wildly in your chest.

God, why does his praise feel so good? And why does it feel like it’s been so long since anyone was this patient with you, or genuinely wanted to see you succeed? You realize you want him to keep looking at you like that, regardless of the nature of your relationship.

"S'perfect. Now, your fingers'll go here, here, and here," he arranges his fingers one by one on the three strings that make up the chord and strums. He lets it ring out for a moment, then looks up at you expectantly. "Any of this ringin' a bell from yesterday?"

Vaguely. Mainly, you're remembering how tempting his fingers looked while he was playing, but you'll have to do better than that today. Instead, you focus on mirroring what he showed you.

"Like this?" you ask hesitantly, pressing down on the strings and mimicking his motions. Tough nylon bites into your skin just as painfully as last time, but the sound you produce is pretty. Nothing like the muted, garbled mess from your previous attempt.

You meet his eyes, and they're filled with none of the surprise yours contain. He just looks pleased, like he had total confidence in you even if you didn't.

"Exactly like that. See? You're doin' better already. Must'a done your finger exercises last night like I told ya,” he says proudly, none the wiser.

If only he knew that’s exactly what you spent your night doing. Practically the entire night, if you’re being honest, and to no avail. It might’ve unintentionally improved your dexterity, but you're still stuck on everything that did or didn't happen yesterday. The only lasting result is how unexpectedly conflicted it made you feel. You nod, biting your lip to keep from grimacing.

“Sure did,” you play it off with a laugh. "I wanted to be as prepared as possible."

Prepared for something a little more physical than playing guitar, but that's a moot point now, isn't it?

You sound as fake as you feel, but luckily he’s so eager to continue the lesson, he doesn’t notice. Again, you follow his lead and try your best to ignore your disappointment and bury the residual hurt. You have a sneaking suspicion you're going to be doing a lot of that, but inexplicably, it's getting easier.

You're starting to realize it's not in spite of Joel. It's because of him. In a brief moment of self-indulgence, you let your gaze linger on his rosy cheeks and the newfound serenity in his eyes.

His enthusiasm is infectious, and his love for music radiates like a Texas heatwave, burning hotter with every chord he strums and string he picks. Even his posture is loosening, and the soft smile on his face seems like a permanent fixture.

It's that same warmth from earlier. That intimate connection you felt blooming in your chest from sharing in his joy. Cautiously, you allow yourself to hope, if not for you and Joel, then for your degree. For the goals you have yet to achieve that, regardless of the past 24 hours, still mean everything to you.

"So, what's next?" you ask eagerly.

His eyes light up, and you know you've asked the right question. He shifts across the strings to a new chord, his smile widening as you quickly move to match him.

"Next, we're learnin' F," he grins, nodding toward your finger placement. "Then, I figure we can run through some pickin' patterns if you're up for it.”

"I'm up for anything you are, teach," you reply earnestly, and the smile you give him feels genuine this time. You really do mean it in every sense. "But be gentle with me. It's been a while, if that wasn't obvious."

His smile falters, and something unreadable flashes in his eyes. After a moment, you realize what you said and how it must’ve sounded. You open your mouth to clarify, but before you get the chance, his expression clears. He chuckles, and it's a light, tinkling thing that fills your chest with a heady combination of relief and longing.

Of course, he’d take it in stride. You’re struck again by the resemblance to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, left wondering if you're still imagining things. The subtle twitch of his fingers must be a figment of your imagination, too, or at least that's what you tell yourself. It doesn't matter now, anyway.

"'Course, I will,” he drawls companionably, his words commanding your attention, compelling you to hang on to each one like a lifeline. “Like I said, we'll take it nice and slow. Ease you back into things until you're ready for somethin' harder.”

It takes everything you have not to choke on your spit. Ignore it. Ignore it. Focus on the lesson and how incredible it’s going to feel when you finally finish the song and pass your damn class.

But you can’t. He’s too close, and he smells so good. You’re only human.

"I think I'll surprise you," you retort cheekily. You’re so fucked. "Plus, I like it hard. Just need a little build-up to get me there."

His hand tenses in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it movement, and you can't help the overwhelming feeling of pride pooling in your belly. You've never backed down from a challenge and you're not about to start now. This one is apparently still ongoing.

"Well, all right, then," he says smoothly, and this time when you shiver, he looks pleased. "Let's hear ya strum it, and then we'll work through the rest. Think you can handle that?"

You straighten up, sitting confidently with your fingers poised over the frets, ready to play. As you shift in your seat, your thigh presses firmly into his and sends a rush of heat straight to the pit of your stomach. "Yeah, I can take it.”

He shakes his head with an amused, yet undoubtedly shy smile. You bite your lip coyly, nodding at the sheet music you've just noticed on the rug at his feet.

"Are there more chords in this bar or is it just picking until the next line?"

It's a toss-up whether or not he heard any of what you just asked if his rapt attention on your lips is any indication. You're still teasing your bottom lip with your teeth, and it's not until you laugh that he finally snaps out of it. He shakes his head a little harder as if to shoo away the distraction, before reaching down to inspect the piece of paper.

He concentrates a little too hard on the page, looking but not seeing, so you reach over and point at a confusing string of notes that connect and repeat with seemingly no rhyme or reason. His gaze shifts to your daintily extended index finger, and you're hit with an intense feeling of deja vu, except this time, your roles are reversed.

“Can you show me how that part goes? It looks like gibberish to me, to be totally honest,” you prod him, trying to reel him back in.

As if on autopilot, he quickly discards the sheet and shifts his hands into place, ready to teach like he wasn't just daydreaming about your fingers wrapped around his cock, covered in his release. And if he wasn't, then you sure were.

“Y-yeah, sure thing. That line's just the intro, but the flow is somethin' else. Probably one of my all-time favorites," he says, his endearing mask carefully slotted back into place.

But you're onto him now. Begrudgingly, he tears his eyes away from where you're matching him on your guitar, waiting patiently for his next instructions.

"It really ain't as bad as it looks," he continues. "The timing's purposely a little off, but it's adaptable. This one's real easy to add your own spin to if that's somethin' ya wanna try."

With all of the skill and grace of a practiced musician, he plucks through the line to give you a preview of what was previously only lines and circles on a page. The notes blend seamlessly, a mixture of picking and what you vaguely remember to be hammering, and it evokes something you never expected.

An unidentified emotion takes root and feels startlingly like yearning and hope, carried by the short melody. It's beautiful. He circles back to the beginning, hopping along the frets slowly just for you, and he's beautiful. You watch him, enamored by his fluidity and ease of motion.

For him, all of this is innate. His guitar is a natural extension of himself, something he was born to hold. You used to think you were born for it, too. The reminder is a painful one, but thankfully you're not left to dwell on it for long.

"So, how 'bout it? Ready to give it a try?" Joel's voice cuts through the fog, as honeyed and mellow as the music at his fingertips. You want to hear that voice call you beautiful again and feel him panting against the shell of your ear while he stretches you out around his thick fingers. God, you want.

Yet, your hands move of their own accord and fall into place—it's the C chord. Apparently, you really want that, too.

"Ready, teach," you nod, and you know you must look like a lovesick fool.

Right now, you really don't care because your gorgeous guitar teacher is beaming and excited, and beneath it all, there's still a tinge of something that makes you believe all of this is real. A lust for more simmering just below the surface.

"You have my full attention, promise."

——

The next hour is spent walking through various strumming and picking patterns, and acquainting yourself with the fluctuating tempo. It's tricky, but you're committed. Again and again, you repeat the same bars, following Joel's interjected advice and corrections, and your mistakes become less obvious until they're all but gone completely.

Rewarding doesn't even begin to cover how a successful run feels. Even the pain blooming beneath the reddening indents on your fingertips feels good. Calluses are beginning to roughen the soft skin, but you earned them.

They're yours and yours alone, proof that you worked your ass off and achieved something remarkable. The results speak for themselves, bouncing around the walls of Joel's living room and breathing new life into the space. Your contribution to his little corner of the world.

And Joel looks so damn proud. He stays patient through every flubbed hammer and too-hard pluck, grinning when you complete the section without his guidance. Your lesson's already gone on long past its scheduled time, but neither of you seems to notice. You likely wouldn't bother to mention it even if you did.

Time trickles by like the slow drip of molasses, thick with the sweetest tension, yet the longer you play, the more a familiar ache starts to creep in and make your progression a little more difficult.

Your hand is cramping, and it hurts. You pause mid-strum to shake it out and stretch your fingers, sighing at the brief respite.

"Hurtin' again, huh?"

You huff out a laugh, remembering the last time he asked you that question. The throbbing in your joints would more than welcome another massage from Joel, but you don't exactly trust yourself to come back from that. You have to stay focused until the next line of the song, at the very least.

"It's really not that bad. Guess all those finger exercises are paying off," you joke, but you don't expect him to catch the underlying punchline. "I kinda figured it wouldn't go away overnight, anyway."

You can tell he's thinking about it, too. He nods understandingly, tapping a restless, arrhythmic beat against his guitar.

"S'all part of bein' a guitar player, unfortunately," he agrees, his entire body tense like he’s resisting the urge to reach out and inspect the subtle changes to your delicate skin for himself.

Your mind starts to wander as his tapping changes to slow circles swirled into the wood grain. You can't help but wonder if your new calluses would feel good sliding up and down his cock, if he'd like the coarse hint of pain teasing the ridge or circling the tip. You wonder what his own would feel like pressing into your clit. The skin of his middle and ring fingertips is noticeably rougher than the rest and with a little pressure—fuck.

You're wet. That can't happen. You have to concentrate. But his movements are starting to speed up, and you can almost feel them sliding through your messy heat.

The intrusive thought is thankfully interrupted when he stops the lewd motion and continues his reassurances like it never happened. Why does he keep doing that? It seems so pointless to keep pretending you’re not on the same page, but you’re not about to call him out and scare him off again.

You tell yourself to focus on the pain. Focus on what he’s saying, not what he’s insinuating.

"Pain's a good thing. It means you're stickin' it out and makin' some real progress," he says fondly, and it's almost enough to reclaim your attention. "Says a lot about the kind of person you are, too, what you do with that pain and how you let it shape ya. You're a good one, I can tell. Committed, like I was."

It's so much sweeter than anything you'd expected him to say. It helps.

"Fair enough. Still kinda sucks though," you grumble, but the slight quirk of your lips betrays your tone.

"Yeah, yeah. What happened to likin' it hard?" he asks playfully, and you feel that telltale whoosh between your legs.

You shift uncomfortably, subtly trying to unstick your underwear from where it's cemented to your core, but the unexpected friction makes you flinch. He picks up on it immediately.

"Look, why don't we take a break? I'll grab us some drinks while you rest up, and we can dive back in whenever you're ready," he offers, his voice raspier than before.

"Yeah, that, um...that sounds good. I'm actually gonna run to the bathroom real quick if that's cool," you reply, trying not to sound as flustered as you feel.

It's hot as hell all of a sudden, even though the AC hasn't stopped kicking since you got here, and you have a feeling cold drinks won't be enough to cool you down. He hesitates before nodding, then points down the hall.

"'Course. S'the first door on your left," he says, brows furrowing in concern. You all but speed walk past him to your temporary haven.

Backing into the door the moment it closes behind you, you squeeze your legs together as tightly as you can, but it only makes it worse. The ache is almost unbearable, and you know for a fact that you'll waste the rest of the lesson if you try to go back out there like this.

The entire afternoon has been such a complicated back-and-forth of conflicting feelings and confusion, but you still have no idea what do to about it. You want him to fuck you, but you also want him to teach you. He wants to teach you, but he also wants you in ways he won't admit to you. Or himself.

Your head is cloudier than it's been all day, and your thoughts are a jumbled mess of desire and rationality, both fighting for dominance. So, now what?

There was only one way to clear the fog last night, but you really shouldn't. You're in his bathroom for christ's sake, and he can't be more than 15 feet away, pouring you a glass of lemonade in the kitchen.

You do it, anyway. With one hand shoved down your pants and the other slapped over your mouth, you decide your best course of action is to rub one out in Joel's bathroom to rid yourself of this distraction once and for all. And it feels good.

The moment your sore fingertips press into your clit, your hips buck into your touch and you lose yourself to the friction. You're even wetter than you realized, and your fingers keep slipping from where you need them most, so you change tactics, ramming two of them inside you instead.

So much for resting your hand. Your motions are frantic, bordering on desperate, and you can't bring yourself to stop now that you've started. Wet squelching mingles with your muffled moans and fills the room, noisier than you’ve been all day even after an afternoon of playing guitar.

But you're getting a little too loud. The door rattles on its hinges every time your palm slaps into your heat, and your hand isn't nearly enough to mask your increasing volume the closer you get. Maybe you'll get lucky and he won't hear a thing. Or maybe you'll get really lucky and he'll hear everything.

You're too far gone to care. Just a little more. You can feel yourself starting to squeeze your fingers, and you just need a little bit more—

Then, there's a knock at the door and Joel's voice tentatively filters through.

"Everythin' alright in there?" he asks kindly, but he sounds wrecked.

It's obvious he heard everything, and yet he's still trying to be polite, desperately clinging to his morals and good, Southern manners. Too bad that turns you on.

Not bothering to respond, you keep going, fixated on how vivid a picture your unstifled moans and reckless actions must be painting. You wouldn't be surprised if it's just your imagination again, but you swear you can hear labored breathing and a litany of muttered curses coming from the other side.

He knocks on the door again, harder this time, and you quickly realize that any patience Joel had left is gone. You've finally pushed him past his limit.

"M'givin' you sixty seconds to get back in that livin' room," he grits out roughly. "You're finishin' out here."

The door shakes as he pushes off of it and stomps away, leaving you in palpable silence.

thanks for reading & stay tuned for part iv!

divider by @saradika-graphics