#audi owners

[myaudiq5]

Audi Q5 Oil Type

Q5 maintenance is important to keep your valuable asset running smoothly for years to come. One of the most important aspects is selecting the right Audi Q5 oil type.

Our recommendation is the Castrol Edge 5W-30 Advanced Fully Synthetic Motor Oil. This engine oil is compatible with all types of engines, including turbocharged ones. So, no matter what type of Audi Q5 you have, this oil will keep it running like new.

[mattsangel]

𝒉𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅│𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉… your stalker is tormenting you at a party, almost revealing his identity in the process. 

stalker!matt x goodgirl!reader, party scene (mention of alcohol use), cursing, smut (no actual sex), dirty talk, pet names

3k words

loud bass is blaring through the dark neighborhood, the annual start of the year party being held at one of the school’s rich kid’s mansion. in this part of town, the houses are enormous, almost looking like castles, and modern, with multiple luxury cars parked in the driveways, the selection varying between porches and audis leaving the streets vacant for guests to park their cars. just like every year, there are cars parked everywhere, the front lawn of the house is full of teens and red plastic cups. the fall air is crisp, but it’s not cold just yet.

your friends walk up the stairs to the beautiful white and grey house, giggling to themselves while you take your time, trailing behind and observing your surroundings. you’re wearing a beautiful short, open-back black dress with a pink bow in the back and some matching pink heels. your long hair is in loose curls, pulled back by a bow, leaving only the front pieces out to catch in your glittery lip gloss when the wind hits your face. 

as you’re observing the people around you, most are students you’ve run into in the hallways, some are from other schools, just there for booze and a good time, you notice a dark form next to the garage doors. it’s too dark for you to be able to make up a face, or any trait, but from their build you can tell that it’s a male. he’s definitely wearing dark clothes, but before you can observe him some more, he’s vanished towards the wooded area behind the house. shaking your head slightly, you make your way towards the open front door to find your friends.

the house is packed, the walls are shaking from how loud the music is. there is a beer pong tournament in one room and people dancing in another. drinks are being left on various surfaces of the house, confettis are on the floor and you can even spot discarded shoes and purses. you make your way to the kitchen, where you assume you will find a drink and your friends. after almost getting lost in the big house, you finally find a beautiful kitchen, with marble counters and gold accents. alongside bottles of various alcohols, a bowl of fruit punch that people spiked with god knows what and some cans of soda are a few chips bags half eaten. pushing those to the side, you grab a red solo cup and fill it with rum and coke, not being much of a drinker but wanting to loosen up a little bit for once. 

cup in hand, you make your way to the dance floor, where you finally find your friends dancing and laughing with what seems to be the guys of the football team. as you try to make your way to them, mumbling sorry’s to the people around and pushing your way across the dance floor, the arm of a drunk guy slaps your drink all over your dress, making the black fabric stick to your skin. without even looking your way, the guy walks away, not even bothering to say sorry or help you out. 

giving up on your friends, you beeline for the staircase leading up fancy, white and gold stairs to try and find a bathroom. you reek of alcohol, the smell so strong it is almost making you nauseous. the upstairs area is just as beautiful as the rest of the house, the ceilings high, walls decorated by art pieces that must be worth millions, although for the owners it must be only a dime in their pockets. there are many doors, you push them open one by one, in hopes that the next one might be a bathroom. 

it is much quieter in this part of the house, and it takes you a few minutes to realize that you aren’t alone upstairs. at first, you assume that it must be some drunken kid looking for some place to crash in or even a horny couple trying to make their way to a bed but soon enough, you notice that the footsteps are going in the same direction as you are. your heart racing, you don’t want to turn around to face them so you open the next door in front of you and go in, realizing that it is a big library, only illuminated by the street lights from outside. forgetting about the mysterious footsteps, you walk in further, looking to find a light switch and admire the beauty that is this place.

there are at least 20 aisle of books all the way down to a beautiful red velvet couch against the wall. the carpeted floors are making it a bit hard for you to walk in your heels so you carefully step out of them and walk around the shelfs, admiring the endless copies of books, going from encyclopedias to fictions and memoirs. as you run your fingers against the dusty book covers, you suddenly hear a door close and someone walk in. you look through the shelves, but it is too dark for you to make out much.

“who’s in here?” you say softly, hoping that it is someone you might know.

you get no answer, only hearing soft footsteps against the carpet making it’s way closer to you. as you try to walk away and closer to the door, you notice a black doc marten boot from the other side of the shelf you were hiding behind, as your eyes go up the form of the man, he turns around and walks to the other side of the room. he is wearing black pants and a black hoodie, making it impossible for you to know who he is.

your heart rate is spiking up, your face is hot but somehow, you refuse to leave without knowing who he is. pushing your curled hair behind your shoulder, you slowly walk in the same direction as the dark figure.

you take a deep breath before addressing him again, “do i know you?”

he leans back against the wall next to the couch, his hood covering the upper half of his face, “maybe”, the raspy, dark voice says.

a shudder goes through your body after hearing his voice, which you don’t recognize. you walk closer, intrigued and somewhat feeling brave. as you get closer to him, you can see that the lower half of his face is adorning some stubble, his pink lips glistening as he licks them.

“it would help if i could see your face, don’t you think?” you lean your hip against the shelf closest to you, as you speak.

the mysterious figure let’s out a dry laugh, “it’s more fun if you don’t.”

he makes his way to the couch, sitting down and spreading his legs slightly, his lap almost inviting, “liking what you see, princess?”

you bite your lip to stop the tiny smile making it’s way onto your lips. you’ve always loved the unknown, being intrigued by things you couldn’t decipher, “maybe, but i’d like to know who you are, mr. darkness.”

you see a dark smirk coming onto his lips at the nickname, “let’s play a game, then maybe you’ll get to know who i am.”

“what kind of game?” in a very concerning way, this turned you on. it shouldn’t. you should be scared, although you could admit you were a little. but after being sheltered and watched over your whole life, the word innocence being automatically attached to your name by everyone, you needed an escape. 

an escape in a sick and twisted game with a stranger that looked impossibly dangerous but oh so captivating.

he pushed his hips up a bit, getting more comfortable in the soft couch before rubbing a hand across his jaw, “i’m going to ask you ten questions and if you answer all of them truthfully, i’ll answer your questions. don’t try to lie to me.”

your breathing picks up, “and if i don’t tell the truth?”

“believe me, you don’t want to go there,” he says, his voice low, “i know everything, sweetheart.”

your pride and curiosity takes the best of you and suddenly, you find yourself standing closer to him, ready for his game to begin.

it can’t be that bad.

he clears his throat, “question number one,” he pauses for a second, “what perfume are you wearing?”

you frowned, not understanding what kind of questions he’s asking. and for what?, “chanel number 5. always has, always will.”

“good,” he nods slowly, “question two, what shade of lipstick do you have on right now?”

“charlotte tilbury pillowtalk,” you continue, “how do you know i’m not lying?”

“i told you,” a dark smiles appear on his lips, “i know everything about you.”

you feel his gaze on your body, but his hood is still a bit too low for you to see much of his face.

“question three, what chapter of your favorite book do you keep rereading?”

his questions are getting weirder, “chapter twenty three.”

he hums, “it is a very good chapter,” he clears his throat, “question four, what color of underwear are you currently wearing?”

your eyebrows shoot up, not expecting such an intrusive question, and you choose to mess with him a little, “they’re purple.”

a sinister laugh comes out of his mouth as he gets up and walks towards you, “i thought you were a smart girl, y/n.”

you start to walk backwards, your back hitting the bookshelf behind you, trapping you, “i am smart.”

he tsk, using his two fingers to lift your jaw, “smart girls don’t lie,” he says, “and you don’t own a pair of purple underwear, you hate that color.”

shock takes over you as you realize that this man knows a lot more than you could imagine, “how would you even know that?”

“stupid question,” he answers, “you’re wearing pink lace panties.”

as you try to answer, he surprises you by grabbing your lower half, and swinging you over his shoulders, walking towards the couch. the alcohol on your dress now dry, only leaving the smell of rum lingering on you.

as he throws you down, your dress lifts up, revealing your light pink panties, “beautiful,” he says as sits next to you.

you pull down the hem of your dress, sitting down straight as you study the man, who is now very close to you. you can smell his cologne, and notice that his left sleeve has moved, revealing dark tattoos.

“what happens now?” you whisper in the silent room, now noticing that it started raining outside.

his right hand comes up, and he caresses your bare shoulder, gently removing your hair from there, “i’m going to have to punish you.”

his words make the pit of your stomach burn with excitement, arousal pooling in your now soaked panties, making you squeeze your legs together. 

this doesn’t go unnoticed as he looks down and licks his lips, letting out a small laugh, “but you won’t make this too hard for me, now will you, honey.”

you shake your head, “no, i won’t.”

“good,” he spreads his legs and pats his lap, “be a good girl and lay across my thighs. on your belly.”

you do as you are told, climbing over his lip and settling on your stomach, your head laying on the armrest. you feel his hands travel up your legs, stopping at your thighs before he roughly pulls the skirt of your dress over your ass, bunching it up on your hips. 

a low grunt comes out of him, as he caresses your now pantie-clad ass, “you know what happens to liars, right, y/n?”

you nod and he slaps your ass hard, “i need words, baby.”

“yes,” you whisper.

“what happens to liars, uh?” he smooths his hands over your ass before landing another hard slap.

you let out a hiss, “they get p-punished.”

the mystery man hums, slapping your ass again, “that’s right, honey,” he runs a hand up your back, grabbing a fistful of your hair, making the ribbon fall out, “but you’re a good girl aren’t you? you’ll take it well for me.”

as you squeak out a yes, he grabs both of your arms, crossing them behind your back and using the pink ribbon to tie them up, “that’s better.”

“count them with me, baby,” he says as he slaps your left ass cheek this time, harder. 

“one,” you say softly, your eyes watering from the pain.

he lands another one, “two.”

and another one, “three.”

once he gets to ten, you let out a sob that you’ve been holding for too long. the pain is making your ass cheeks burn, but your now soaked underwear is telling him that you secretly love it.

just as you think that he is about to slap your ass an eleventh time, he starts rubbing it in an almost tender way, “good girl, you did so good for me.”

“i think you deserve a reward,” he says moving his hand in between your thighs, pressing it onto your aching pussy, “what do you think?”

you nod vigorously, needing some sort of relief, “yes, please.” you whine out.

he starts to rub circles on to your covered clit, “you’re so wet, honey, is it all for me?”

“yes,” you try to muffle your moan by biting your lip.

he slaps your pussy lightly, “i want to hear you, don’t do that.”

he finally grabs the top of your soaked, lace panties and removes them, shoving them into his hoodie pocket, before running his fingers through your folds, “making a mess on my fingers already.”

he pushes his thick, middle finger inside of you, making your back arch into him and a high pitches moan come out of your mouth, “never had something so big inside of you before uh?”

he picks up his pace, as you start grinding onto his leg, looking for some more friction, “look at you, being so desperate for someone you don’t even know,” his other hand comes to grab at your neck from the side, squeezing it just the right amount, “i know you’ve been longing for this, baby, i know this is what you’ve always wanted.”

his words could make you think that he did know everything. like he knew that at night, you would watch videos of girls getting spanked and fucked by masked men, to get off. like he knew that you always secretly dreamed of being choked and tied up. like he knew that from the moment you saw him, all mysterious and dark , you weren’t instantly attracted to him.

as you get closer to your release, a familiar knot forming in the pit of your stomach, his fingers pick up their speed, his breath hot on your back, “you look so pretty like this, all tied up and soaking my fingers.”

this is enough for you to come undone onto his fingers, your release coating your inner thighs and his hand, he removes his fingers and let out a satisfied hum before his other hand comes to grab at your hair, making your head turn towards his still hidden face. 

“look at that mess you’ve made on me, sweetheart,” you see his glistening fingers as he brings them to his mouth and suck on them, making your jaw hang slightly, “taste so good.”

after removing his fingers from his mouth, the brings them to yours, “taste yourself.”

you let out a moan as you suck on his fingers like your life depends on it. he takes them out of your mouth with a ‘pop’ and starts untying the ribbon lacing your arms together. when your arms are finally free, he sits you up straight against the couch, letting you catch your breah for a minute.

just when you’re about to open your mouth to speak again, he gets up and walks towards the door, your pink and still wet panties still hanging out of his hoodie pocket.

just when he is about to grap the knob and open the door he turns slightly towards you and says, “see you around, pretty girl. next time, don’t lie to me.”

he closes the door behind him, and just like that, you are left completely on your own, the sticky mess still in between your thighs, your hair disheveled and absolutely confused as to what just happened.

when you finally get yourself together and go to put on your shoes, a small piece of paper falls down from the strap of your dress onto the floor. you pick it up and open it.

i’ll be watching you, darling. keep being a good girl and you might find me again.

and it’s signed; mr. darkness.

a few days later, as you get home from school, you find a bouquet of pink roses on your bed with a small note attached to it. you look around before opening it.

meet me at the abandoned house on main street friday at ten o’clock.

you smile down at the note, carefully putting it in your bedside table drawer, alongside all the other ones your stalker has been leaving around for you. 

© 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆; i’m thinking of maybe making a series out of this one since you guys are just as obsessed with stalker!matt as i am… i love writing him, let me know if you’d want more! i love you guys x

[velvetyh]

⌜Ticket to Temptation⌝

꒰ PAIRING ꒱ Police Captain!Juyeon x implied fem!reader ꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ Provoking a police officer just for fun didn't end up the way you thought it would... is it bad, though? ꒰ WORD COUNT ꒱ 7.2k (I am so sorry) ꒰ TW ꒱ very poorly written, 18+, (semi?) car sex, public sex, lots of pet names, attempt at writing sexual tension, y/n calling Juyeon "Captain", ass spanking, oral (fem receiving), doggy style, degrading praising pet names ꒰ NOTE ꒱ the beginning of the fic is the same as my previous fic with eric!! I got a sweet person asking for an alternate fic in the same genre, so here it is! feedback is greatly appreciated !! <3 ꒰ REQUESTED ꒱ yes! sort of? (thank you for your ask, btw! <3)

୧ ‑‑‑‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑

“Good morning, Officer,” you greeted with a smile as you exited your vehicle parked not far from the police station to get to your work.

Honestly, working next to a police station had its benefits. Seeing handsome men in uniform was always a sight to see and knowing that they could be there in the snap of a finger in case of emergency reassured you.

“Morning, ma’am,” the officer answered after finishing talking to a colleague through a talkie-walkie, giving you a polite nod and a brief smile. You keep walking until you hear the same voice calling out for you.

“Ma’am, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” you turned around, looking in the man's eyes with a smile. He maintained eye contact briefly before clearing his throat, shoving his hand into his uniform pocket.

“You are the owner of this car, right?” he asked as he pointed at your black Audi RS3, and you nodded, staring up at him.

“Yes, why?”

“It’s not the first time that I've seen it poorly parked, you should be careful. It might disturb the traffic and cause an accident, or someone could accidentally smash it if they’re not paying enough attention,” you obediently nodded again, offering him your best smile.

“I promise to be careful next time. Have a good day, Officer!”

However, the next morning, you parked yourself the same way you did yesterday, the same police officer standing in front of the station. You got out of your car as if it were nothing, but you immediately bumped against a broad chest, recognising the same masculine fragrance as yesterday.

“Ma’am? What did I tell you yesterday? Your back tyres aren’t among the lines, and they’re almost hindering the traffic. Next time I catch you doing this I’m giving you a fine, understood?”

“Yes, Officer Sohn,” you mumbled as his name tag was almost hitting your nose at your proximity.

“Good.” You stared up at him for a few seconds and apologised again before he stepped aside, nodding again before walking away, going back to his spot in front of the police station.

You were doing this on purpose because he was hot, and the uniform didn’t help at all. You wanted to see how long you could play dumb until it went too far, but what could happen aside from a fine?

Maybe something amazing? you considered.

The next morning, you weren’t in the mood to play. You had started your day pretty badly, the waitress at the Starbucks drive-through had accidentally spilt your beverage on your brand-new blouse as she handed you your drink, not only ruining the fabric but also your mood and your good hopes of having a good day. And after being stuck in traffic for god knows how long, you finally made it to your workplace.

“Ma’am, this time-“

“Yes, Officer, I know that I’m not parked inside the lines, I know. Have you seen the side of your parking spaces and my car? It won’t fit, and I can’t take public transport from where I live, it’s way too far from my workplace to function properly the rest of the day. So just give me a fine so I can move on from this shitty day,” you snapped at the officer, whose eyes opened widely, and he took a step back, giving you space.

You sighed in annoyance and stared up at him, seeing him keeping a relaxed attitude somehow managed to calm you down a bit, which was something unexplainable.

“Rough morning?” he calmly asked, hand going to his talkie-walkie on his shoulder to quickly dismiss it as his colleague's voice buzzed from it.

“Yes, this morning's rough. I just want to go home to forget about everything,” you annoyingly said while looking at the traffic jam in front of you, the police officer looking at you with his hands on his hips.

“Okay, this is the very last time I let you run away with this. I’m being very indulgent with you today because I don’t want to worsen your day. Consider yourself lucky not to have met my superior yet. Captain Lee is not as lenient as I am, trust me. He would’ve fined you each time you wrongly parked, as well as the window tints that seem a bit darker than allowed,” Officer Sohn stated, his finger grazing against your windows, barely able to see the steering wheel and the front seats.

“Everything is up to date and in compliance with current requirements, Officer,” you spat, crossing your arms against your chest, hissing as the remaining bits of coffee went through the fabric onto your skin.

“If you say so,” Officer Sohn sighed, not convinced at all by your words, “when you arrive tomorrow, I strongly advise you park well, understood? I might not be on duty here tomorrow, so I won’t be able to let you get away with it.”

“Fine. Have a good day, Officer,” you mumbled while locking your car, leaving the police officer on the pavement and watching you angrily enter the building you worked at.

Your day didn’t get better despite praying whatever God to help you. As soon as you stepped foot in the building, the big boss saw you with your stained top and had to share his opinion in front of everyone, telling your manager that she wasn’t doing a great job at teaching her employees the company dress code.

So, of course, when the CEO was out of sight, she took all her anger on you, and it exploded in a big fight in the open space. All the precedent events had already angered you, but this was just the cherry on top. You almost said things that could have gotten you fired, and you were frustrated when she took her afternoon off for “personal issues”, leaving you to take care of all her daily assignments alone.

When you got out of work, you were mad at the world, ready to punch someone and yell out your frustration. You were thankful your intern was a hardworking person and tried to handle the work you gave him on his own, feeling bad when he walked on eggshells to ask for guidance, kind of scared of you after witnessing your row with your manager.

Car keys in hand, you walked to your parking spot, only to find it empty.

Your car was no longer there.

“What the fuck,” you mumbled, looking around, as if you had become delirious throughout the day and parked it somewhere else. No, no, it was supposed to be parked in front of the police station, on the left side of the main door. Yet, your Audi was nowhere to be seen.

Stepping foot into the police station, you cleared your throat as anger rose in your chest, finding Officer Sohn at a desk, focusing on a task on his computer.

“Officer?” you asked, and he looked up, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of your figure.

“Ma’am? How can I help?”

“I am looking for my car, a black RS3 Audi. I parked it right there this morning.”

“I remember, yeah,” he smirked, the vivid argument between you two coming back to mind.

“Well? Do you happen to know where it is?”

“I know where it is,” a voice rose from behind you, making you turn around.

A tall, muscular figure appeared from the staircase, a serious frown on his lips contrasting with the curious softness that his eyes held. The weight of the bulletproof vest he wore didn’t seem to bother him, his movements as fluid as water. Slender fingers pushed some hair away from his face as he confidently approached you.

“You’re looking for an Audi RS3? Black, tinted windows? Poorly parked?” his deep voice made you shiver, and you nodded.

“Yeah, that’s my-“

“Towed to the pound,” he proudly stated, your face falling in shock making him smirk.

“What?” you almost screamed.

This day couldn’t get any worse.

“Did you really tow my car? Just for two wheels outside the parking lot? Don’t you have other things to do, like arresting real criminals, Officer?”

You failed to notice Officer Sohn’s eyes growing wide at the title you gave the man, the latter angrily scowling at you.

“First and foremost, when someone does not respect the laws, they are, in my eyes, a criminal. You didn’t park the way your little instructor taught you during your little driving lessons, so that makes you a valid criminal.”

You scoffed, your reaction not amusing the man in front of you.

“And, ma’am, for the record, this little symbol you see here,” he patted his upper torso with a smirk, “makes me a Captain.”

You read the name on his uniform.

Captain Juyeon Lee.

Oh shit.

You briefly looked at Officer Sohn, whose eyes held some sympathy in them mixed with an “I told you” gaze.

“Respect goes both ways,” he continued, “I’d like you to address me as Captain Lee from now on.” His serious, menacing tone was meant to impress you, but you were far from it.

“Fine, Captain Lee,” you stressed the word “Captain”, earning a bitter smile from the high-ranked policeman. “Since you oh so nicely towed my car to the pound on the other side of town, how do you expect me to go home in reasonable hours, when I live in the village downtown, two hours and a half away from here ?”

“There’s a bus leaving in… now actually, to go there,” Captain Lee smirked while checking his watch, and your eyes bore into his, your pupils sending him daggers that he ignored.

He found it quite amusing the way you were looking at him. Almost…cute.

“Or you could call an Uber and then go home,” he suggested, making you scoff again.

“An Uber? To this side of town? I can’t believe you are being serious right now,” you mumbled the last sentence, shaking your head at his dumb remark. “I won’t be your next murder case to investigate just to keep you busy, since you’re so bored that you like to bother people for two tyres,” you took a step and stared at him, the Captain not budging.

“Then there’s nothing else I can do for you, ma’am,” he stated, walking around you to get to his desk, soon followed by two officers.

You huffed, exiting the station to get some fresh air. Officer Sohn was right, he really was something else. He was not as patient as him.

On the other hand, you were the one to blame, you provoked it. By wanting to see how far you could go without getting a fine, you played and got burned. Now you pay the price of being stuck in the city and not having a car to go home.

“I’m fucking dumb,” you mumbled to yourself, typing on your phone as you tried to think of a solution, a hand flying to your hair to tug on some strands.

Your manager lived down the street. Hell no, with what happened this morning, you’d rather set yourself on fire than knock at her door for help. The CEO? Super weird. The intern? Even worse.

A few droplets of water landing on your head got you out of your deep thoughts. You stepped back when the droplets intensified, and you defeatedly watched the rain abruptly pour on the streets, people running in front of you to seek shelter.

Great. Today was officially the worst day of your life.

You sighed, stuffing your phone in your bag as you mentally prepared yourself to go to the nearest coffee to quench your thirst and think of a way to go home. Your heels clicked on the pavement, your hand rising to your face to shield your eyes and brows from the rain, ready to trot to a bar or whatever building could offer you something to drink.

As you were about to step away from the police station into the rain, a strong hand seized your biceps, dragging you in the other direction. You shrieked and tried to set your arm free, but the grip was stronger than you thought. Looking up, you growled in annoyance as you recognised the same jet-black hair and bulletproof vest from a few moments earlier.

“What did I do now? Did I breathe incorrectly? Were my heels too loud on the tarmac for the neighbourhood? Did I huff too loudly?” Captain Lee shook his head from side to side with an amused smile on his face at your words, his eyes rolling as you tried to set yourself free again. This time, he didn’t fight and let go of your arm. He unlocked his police car in a swift motion and opened the passenger door.

“Get in,” he ordered.

“What for?” you questioned, and he sighed, wordlessly gesturing you to sit down. You growled but obliged, startled at the force he used to slam the door shut.

A few seconds later, he’s next to you, turning the engine on.

“You’re lucky Sohn is a nice guy. Seatbelt,” he ordered.

“What do you mean?” you side-eyed the police officer, his words making you look at him.

“You’re lucky he can read people well and has good arguments,” you stared at his hand on the steering wheel, effortlessly shifting gears as you slowly exited the city.

You remained silent for an instant. That’s when you realised where you were heading—the car pound.

“Thank you,” you mumbled and crossed your arms against your torso, shifting to the right side to slightly turn your back to him, your body suddenly seized by comfort and exhaustion as you could begin to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

You didn’t know if it was his cologne, his way of driving or the warmth oozing from the seat heater that got you so relaxed, but you weren’t going to complain. It was nice, almost making you forget about your terrible day.

“I’m not the one you should thank for this, I’m doing this so Sohn doesn’t throw a tantrum in the middle of the police station. You have a lot in common you two, I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up together,” his last sentence sounded like a backhanded compliment, but you took it, nonetheless.

“It’s still better than being rude and arrogant,” you mumbled, and the Captain’s brows rose to the sky, slamming on the brakes as you arrived at a stop sign. You were startled, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t make me regret listening to my colleague,” he mumbled through his gritted teeth, turning on his indicator before making a right turn.

The rest of the journey to the car pound was quiet, only the sound of the car engine filling in the silence. Despite his shitty attitude, the Captain next to you was quite handsome. Long neck, high cheekbones, slender fingers, flawless skin, and a muscular body, he was well-proportioned. The uniform added a little something to his charm. Or it was maybe just your uniform kink speaking up.

When you arrived at the car pound, the rain had stopped but it was stuffy. A storm was not far from breaching the sky, the clouds were so dark that you were expecting thunder at any moment. Not something you were looking forward to going home with.

“I hope they took good care of my car,” you mumbled as you walked next to the Captain. His boots hit the ground in a soft thud, matching your pace as you were still in your office clothes.

“Come on, it’s just a heap of metal pieces,” Captain Lee stated, and you stifled a growl of annoyance by deeply sighing.

“To you, maybe. I cherish it a lot, I worked so hard to afford it,” you retorted.

“If you say so,” he shrugged, and you huffed.

“Yes, I say so.”

You didn’t have time to argue further that the guy responsible for the car pound greeted you with a professional smile.

“Captain! You are back already?”

“Yes I am, joined by the culprit in person,” the guy laughed, and you scowled at the police officer, who briefly looked down at you with a satisfied smirk.

That fucker was enjoying playing with your nerves.

“I was not expecting such a pretty lady to own a car like this one,” he said, and you offered him a fake smile.

“Yet here I am,” you said, voice emotionless, the guy not taking the hint that you didn’t find him funny.

“Follow me, please,” the grey-haired man led the way, Captain Lee’s hand hovering in your lower back made you shiver.

The walk to your car was muddy and perilous in heels, Captain Lee had to catch your arm once to prevent you from falling face-first in a puddle of mud.

“What a good idea to come here in heels,” he sarcastically said, making you roll your eyes.

“Your fault,” you mumbled, readjusting your bag strap on your shoulder.

“My fault?”

“Yes, your fault! If you took care of burglars and thieves rather than bothering a woman that just tries to do her job, we wouldn’t be there,” you pettily retorted and the guy laughed, enjoying your bickering with the police officer, who simply scoffed.

“You remind me of my wife and me when we were younger,” your face turned into a frown that thankfully no one saw. You didn’t say anything and kept walking.

Your heart lightened a bit when you saw your car, but your face immediately fell when you saw how muddy it was.

“What the fuck happened to my car? It was clean when I arrived at work this morning!” you exclaimed, walking around it to check if there were any shocks or dents in the body of the car.

“Ahh, this,” the guy embarrassingly scratched the back of his head, looking down as he felt the Captain’s questioning eyes on him, “it’s probably my employees. They can’t resist testing them when they see cars like this.”

You were going to murder someone.

“And you’re going to let that slide, Captain?” you spat, drawing the officer’s attention on you, as he seemed quite interested in your car, despite what he had told you earlier.

“Do you have proof that they did it?” he argued back, and you resisted the urge to strangle him by breathing deeply.

“He just confessed!” you yelled, and the Captain shrugged.

“I would need stronger proof to incriminate them,” you closed your eyes, focused on your breathing pattern, and nodded. Reopening them, they were glossy with tears, the car emitting a low “click” as you unlocked it with your keys.

“Do I need to pay for something?” you asked no one in particular, the two male figures blurry because of your tears. You noticed that the car guy was slightly embarrassed by the situation, Captain Lee remaining the same stoic man as before.

“225 000,00 Won for the journey and parking here,” the car guy mumbled, and you got your wallet and got the bank notes that he requested.

“Here you go. Captain, feel free to send me a fine for my parking by post, I’ll pay it as soon as I receive it. Have a good evening,” you mumbled as you entered your car, carefully driving on the road, the police car soon a memory.

“Fucking assholes,” you mumbled through gritted teeth as you reached the main road, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

Maybe your reaction was a bit too much, but it left the two men too stunned to speak. The car guy was embarrassed by his employees’ behaviour, and Captain Lee was silent.

He had pushed your buttons for hours when you were already on the edge and eventually, you broke down. He had done that in the past with witnesses to check if they were telling the truth or not. Normally, he enjoyed watching the culprit break down in tears and confess their crime, yet here he wasn’t as satisfied as usual.

He felt bad. Guilty, per se.

He bid farewell to the car guy and paced back to his car, starting the engine as he followed your path. The thunder was raging in the middle of the town, he could see the lightning bolts illuminating the sky as he drove back to the civilisation.

Captain Lee paused at the same stop sign, yet not abruptly this time. He took a quick second to think logically. He had two chances: either you drove straight back home, or you went to the closest car wash station from here.

Turning on his blue and red lights, he floored the gas pedal and drove to the nearest car wash station he knew.

The distant sound of a siren drew your attention as you finished inspecting your car, relieved that, after a good wash, your vehicle was intact as before. You got back into your car as the siren got closer. Soon blue, and red lights were illuminating your face as you watched in your rearview mirror. With a sigh, you noticed Captain Lee approaching your window. Anger washed over you and you got out of your car, startling the Captain. You noticed that his hand was quick to go to his holster – probably a force of habit – before going back to his pocket.

You wordlessly side-eyed him as you tore the dark tint on each of your windows, crumpling up the pieces in a big, black plastic ball before handing it to him.

“Here you go, Captain. My car is now 100% in compliance with your current requirements. Happy?” you questioned and forced the ball of waste to his chest for him to take.

His hand seized your wrist, much gentler this time. His softness startled you, making you look at him with furious eyes to make your confusion.

“Things went too far, ma’am. I didn’t mean to make you cry, I’m sorry,” his baritone voice was calm and low, sending vibrations in your heart.

You sighed, swallowing the lump in the throat that was threatening to rise, again. Captain Lee had to resist the urge to wipe the streaks of dry mascara under your eyes, forcing his hands back in his pockets as he let go of your forearm.

“It’s not entirely your fault. I had a really shitty day, all of this just made me exhausted and– .”

“I didn’t help to ease the situation. I wanted to apologise, it went too far,” he cut you.

“I appreciate your apology, Captain,” your mouth stretched in a small, tired smile, which the officer replicated almost immediately.

A few seconds passed as you kept staring at each other, Captain Lee carefully stepping closer to you as he saw you didn’t budge the first time.

The wind softly blew a few pieces of hair in your face. Juyeon’s fingers were quick to place them back behind your ear, much to your surprise. His body worked quicker than his brain, realising way too late what he had done.

“You do this to every woman that cries out of frustration in front of you?” you teased.

The police officer smirked, studying your facial features.

You were beautiful.

“Only to the pretty ones that throw tantrums like a child and drive a black Audi RS3,” he mumbled. You rolled your eyes, Juyeon’s hand quick to seize your jaw to make you look at him, his actions surprising you.

“You drive me nuts with those eye rolls,” he mumbled, his lips ghosting over yours, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Yet you’re the one causing them,” you retorted in a mumble, now stuck between the side of your car and the bulletproof vest Juyeon was wearing, his knee slotting itself between your legs.

“But not for the good reasons,” your eyes studied his and you thickly swallowed when you saw his eyes briefly drop to your lips.

His free hand joined the other that was holding your jaw to cradle your face between them. Another pang of guilt hit his heart as his thumbs were stroking the salted, dry skin under your eyes because of the tears he caused.

“May I?” he whispered in a hushed voice. Immediately knowing what he wanted, you nodded, and his lips were on yours the following second.

The kiss was passionate and vivid. It held so many emotions that your head spun. You felt how sorry he was but soon after, how much he needed that. Your lips moved in sync, his tongue begging for entrance. When you granted him his wish, he was quick to fight for dominance and you gave in, a hand fisting his hair while your other arm was around his neck, trying to keep yourself grounded and steady in this kiss.

When you pulled away from his lips, you were breathless, heart rummaging in your chest. You had never been kissed like that by anyone, yet you adored it. You wanted more. Juyeon wasted no time and peppered your jaw and neck with hungry kisses, nipping and licking at the skin to rile you up.

“Officer,” you said in a moan, choking on a squeal when Juyeon’s hand harshly collided with your ass.

“You know you’re not supposed to call me that,” he grunted, pulling away from you. You whined from the lack of warmth his body provided you.

“Captain,” you corrected yourself, and he smirked, his hand spanking you again, softer this time, before whispering you to jump.

Wrapping your arms around his neck and linking your legs at the small of his back, Juyeon effortlessly walked you back to his cruiser, opening the passenger door and gently settling you down on. Finding the handle underneath the seat, he rolled it away from the dashboard and inclined it down. You were in such a comfortable position that you could almost take a nap, yet Juyeon had other plans for you that sounded more exciting.

“You okay, darling?” he asked, and you nodded, smiling as he removed his bulletproof vest from his chest to take off his shirt. The sight almost made you drool, his muscular body begging to be touched. You couldn’t resist and felt his abs with your hand, the gesture making him smirk.

“Like what you see?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” you shamelessly answered, and he smirked, diving back to your mouth to kiss you before settling on his knees in the small space between your seat and the dashboard.

“Pretty girl got her heels so dirty,” he said as he seized your calf and removed your shoes one after the other, carelessly tossing them in the backseat.

Goosebumps rose in your body as his mouth started to kiss your skin from your calf up to your knees, his hands bunching up your pencil skirt in the process to get access to the skin of your thighs. His mouth was hot against your shivering skin, your breath catching in your throat as he was at eye-level with your core. Looking up, he kissed the inner parts of your thigh, earning a low moan from you as he progressively got closer to your core.

“More, Captain. I need more,” you whined, and he smirked, his hands caressing your calves up and down.

“More of what?” he teased, and you wiggled like a maggot, attempting to get your core closer to his mouth.

“Of you,” you breathily mumbled, “I need your mouth on me.”

A high-pitched groan escaped your lips when he pressed his lips against your clothed core, his tongue poking your entrance in a teasing manner. You were already withering under his touch, and he had barely done anything. He could feel how wet you were through the fabric, his ego flying through the roof that he was the one leaving you in such a putty state.

“I promise I’ll be a good girl,” you seemed to have found the right words to get under his skin, your begging awakening something inside him that blood rushed straight to his cock.

“Yeah? You promise you’ll park well tomorrow?”

“I promise, Captain.”

“Good girl,” he kissed your hip bone, and you whined, your core clenching around nothing when he pulled your panties down in a swift motion, the air welcoming your folds in a fresh embrace that made you audibly gasp.

“Such a pretty cunt, so wet, just for me,” he stated as he trailed his fingers down to your glistening slit, earning a back arch from you.

Your hand fisted his hair when he dragged his tongue from your slit to your clit, giving it special attention as your lustful moans spurred him on. His tongue rolled and licked around your clit, his fingers teasing your entrance as your legs wrapped themselves around his head.

“Oh my god, fuck!” you moaned as Juyeon inserted two fingers inside your warmth, humming at how wet you were thanks to him. Turning his palm to the sky and hooking up his fingers, he started licking your clit harder and pounding his fingers inside you at such a rapid pace that you were barely controlling your moans.

“You sound so pretty for me, darling,” he praised you, smirking as his words made you clench around his fingers, making a mental note of it, “do you like how I make you feel?” he asked, his free hand playing with one of your breasts over your shirt.

You hummed in agreement as your shaky hands tried to undo the first few buttons of your shirt, passing it over your head to reveal your bra. Juyeon hummed as he saw the black lingerie decorating your chest and caressed it, feeling the warm, bouncy flesh against his palm while his other hand was still buried inside your pussy.

“Put your feet on the dashboard for me, love,” he ordered in a whisper, and you immediately obliged, allowing his fingers to reach deeper inside you, making you groan in pleasure.

“Oh my god, Captain, please keep going, that feels so good,” your voice was getting weaker as your orgasm was approaching thanks to his fingers and tongue skills, the public situation of your dirty little business only increasing your sensitivity and pleasure.

“Does it?” he questioned, and you moaned as an answer, urging Juyeon to pick up the pace by seizing his forearm and pushing his fingers harder and quicker inside you.

The message was loud and clear for Juyeon, who immediately removed your hand and latched his mouth around your clit, loudly suckling on it. His moans against your sensitive skin sent jolts of electricity in your body, the knot in your stomach close to snapping. You wanted to last a bit more, but the feeling was becoming overwhelming when Juyeon added a third finger, stretching you out like no one had done before.

You cried in pleasure, Juyeon smirking against your pussy as your moans were making him as hard as a branch.

“C-Can I cum?” you begged between staggered breaths, your fingers playing with your breasts.

You were being a good girl to him, asking in such a pretty, begging voice if you could finish. He really had to resist the urge to just remove his fingers and instead stick his cock deep into your core.

“Cum for me, pretty girl, you deserve it. You had a long day today,” he mumbled, his fingers still entering you at a rapid pace as his other hand left your breast to play with your clit.

His attentive words pushed you over the edge. Juyeon felt the force of your orgasm by how strong your core was clenching around his fingers, almost preventing him from moving. Your voice was strained as you loudly moaned, a mix of “Captain” and “Juyeon”, as well as profanities shamelessly leaving your pretty, bruised lips from biting them too much.

What a pretty sight that was for Juyeon. He had made his ex-girlfriends cum before, but not this hard and not with just his fingers and tongue. His dick was rock hard as you slowly came back to your senses, chest heavily heaving up and down, eyes glazed with lust and tiredness. You whimpered when Juyeon removed his fingers glistening with your release, sucking them clean. A lazy smile decorated your mouth at his action, grabbing Juyeon by the back of the neck to taste yourself on his lips.

“You’re so sexy,” he whispered against your mouth, your shaky hands caressing his warm torso. You wanted more of him, your hand unbuckling his belt as you pressed your mouth against his.

Your curious fingers eventually found the waistband of his underwear, tugging it down to reveal his hard cock. It was girthy but mostly long, leaking with precum, his balls feeling heavy in your hand. It jolted when you wrapped your digits around it, giving a few sharp strokes, earning a deep groan from the police officer on top of you.

“Easy, pretty girl, I wanna last,” you giggled at his words and kissed his lips, Juyeon blindly searching for something in the compartment of the centre console armrest.

“What are you doing?” you asked while kissing his neck, your hand still lustfully stroking him.

“I’m looking for a condom,” he grunted and softly moaned in your ear when you teased his slit.

“Awn…. Scared your pull-out game isn’t strong enough?” you teased, and he grabbed your throat, pinching your nipple as he planted his gaze in yours.

“Would you prefer getting knocked up by a total stranger?” he retorted.

“If it’s a hot, dark-haired Captain named Juyeon Lee, I wouldn’t mind,” you joked with a bright smile, the man in front of you capturing your lips in a swift kiss to shush you.

You giggled when he flipped you around and spanked your cheeks with a grunt, your laugh turning into a moan as the pain increased the wetness pooling down your leg.

“I take what I said earlier back, you’re such a dirty, bad girl,” he punctuated the downgrading nickname with a harsh spank, making you moan.

“See, your moaning confirms that I’m right,” he snorted, and you pushed your bum backwards to get him to keep going.

“Fuck me please, Captain?” you looked behind and feigned innocence, offering big doe eyes to Juyeon.

After eventually finding a condom and rolling it on his hard shaft, Juyeon neared his tip to your entrance, easily sliding it in thanks to your wet cunt. You loudly moaned his name and earned a spank from the police officer, his hands holding your hips as he pushed himself further inside you. He was so long, you felt like his tip was poking your stomach when he bottomed out.

“You feel so tight,” he grunted through gritted teeth as you clenched around him.

“You’re so long, gosh. You fill me up so well,” you closed your eyes as you laid the side of your head against the headrest, enjoying how good his dick was filling you, Juyeon’s chest resting against your back as he was moaning in your ear, his fingers teasing your clit just to rile you up and get you even wetter.

“As if we were meant to be, mh?” he mumbled in the shell of your ear and you nodded, his hips rolling against yours in slow thrusts, letting you adjust to his length. He didn’t want to go all in at the beginning because he knew that he wouldn’t last two minutes, especially with the way you were moaning his ranking.

Plus, backshots were always one of his favourite positions to use during sex. With you, it was even better than the times with other girls. He loved to see his cock going in and out of your cunt, how your wetness was coating his shaft, the excess pooling at the rim of it and slowly drooling down to his balls. Your back was arching like a cat stretching, allowing him to caress the soft skin and decorate it with kisses or bites. Your ass colliding with his hips was also a sight to see, the red imprints of his hands slowly forming on the soft flesh from all the spanking.

Juyeon’s hand came to grab your neck and push you deeper into the seat, granting his cock better access to the depth of your core. He reached further inside you, triggering your g-spot and making you scream in pleasure, your thighs slowly starting to shake. You had to fight the urge to let your eyes roll at the back of your head at how good Juyeon’s cock was making you feel. It reached places you never thought existed, that was at least never found by your exes.

“The beautiful sight that you are,” the officer mumbled, his hands caressing your back down to your ass, down your hips to your pussy. His mouth rested against the shell of your ear, gently nibbling on your lobe, whispering soft words of praise at how well you were taking his cock.

He smirked at how you clenched around him, the hand that was still between your legs coming up to your mouth, forcing it open. You welcomed his fingers with a hum, your tongue rolling around them to taste yourself.

“You’re such a pretty, obedient slut, you know that?” he kissed your cheek as he picked up the pace, your moans muffled by his slender fingers still pressing down your tongue. You looked over your shoulder with pleading eyes, the slight gloss over them warning the officer that you were close, again.

“Don’t worry, darling,” the officer whispered, his hips colliding with your ass at a steady pace, “I’m going to make you cum again soon, just be patient, okay? I’m almost there,” his breath was heavy, his thumb caressing your cheek as you docilely nodded at his words.

Eventually removing his fingers from your mouth, you yelped in pleasure as his wet fingers pinched your nipples, sending jolts of electricity down your body to your core.

“Please, Captain, I’m so close, I need it. So badly,” you begged, getting tired and so sensitive that one sharp movement could make you topple over the edge.

Juyeon stilled inside you, taking the time to gather your hair in one of his hands and kiss you on the lips. Your head dropped and you moaned as you felt him push himself desperately deeper inside you, your ass and his hip bone forming one, his cock thickening with lust.

Without a warning, the hand in your hair tightened, making your head tilt back up and groan, his hips colliding hard and fast with your ass, the flesh giggling at every movement.

Drunk in pleasure, Juyeon’s chest was pressed against your back, primal movements not faltering a second. His moans were erratic, grunts all over the place as the sound of skin slapping filled the police car.

“I’m gonna, I’m gonna- Oh fuck!” that’s all you managed to say before your body went totally limp, legs shaking as your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, a hand wrapped around his wrist as your core was almost pushing him out of you.

“That’s it, pretty girl, that’s it. Come around my cock,” he helped you ride your orgasm by toying with your clit, mouth praising you between covering your shoulder blades with hot kisses.

Your pussy tightening made Juyeon’s cock super sensitive, precum slowly filling the condom. He was not going to last long, he just needed a bit more of you to get there.

“Can you handle a bit more, baby? I’m almost there,” he whispered, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as if he hadn’t just given you the best orgasm you’ve had in ages. Turning around to face him, you spread your trembling legs wide open for him, taking his cock in your hand to stuff it back inside you.

“I take that as a yes,” Juyeon smirked and you hummed, barely catching your breath as his hips were already ramming back inside you.

Resting his forehead against yours, Juyeon’s movements started to falter, his brown eyes blown out with lust. The way your face contorted in pleasure and your legs shaking in sensitivity were helping him get closer to his peak, loving that you were drowning in lust thanks to him.

Your hand flew to his hair and started tugging on some strands as he picked up the pace. Legs crossing in his lower back, caging him in an embrace, a low grunt of your name erupted from the police officer’s mouth, his hips stilling a second later.

“Oh my god, Y/N, fuck!” You gasped as his cum filled the condom, Juyeon rutting his hips against yours as he rode his orgasm, low groans escaping from his lips.

Your moans and your nails digging into his shoulders made him groan in lust and ride his high, soon resting his weight on you, your sweaty bodies heaving up and down in sync.

Slowly coming back to your senses, Juyeon partially removed himself from you, pulling away from your core. He smiled at you, softly kissing your lips before quickly sucking on your breast. You shivered, almost getting turned on again at the sight of the filled-up condom.

Helping each other to get dressed, it was hard for you to stand on your heels. Juyeon had turned your legs into jelly, and you could barely walk the distance that separated your car from the police cruiser.

“Are you going to be okay to get home safely?” Juyeon looked at you with a veil of worry in his eyes. You smiled, carefully walking up to him to press your lips against his.

“I will,” you smirked, your hand removing non-existent dust on his uniform just for the physical contact to linger one more second. You were already exhausted because of your day at work, those moments with him didn’t help you feel energized at all.

“Be careful on the road. I wouldn’t want the next time I see you be at the hospital,” you smiled as his hands were gently stroking your sore hips.

“That wouldn’t be a great idea, indeed,” you teased, your mouth kissing his neck. He closed his eyes for a moment, getting lost again in the sensation of your mouth on him.

“What about a date, instead?” he suggested, changing the subject as he was close to ripping your clothes from your body, just to feel your core squeeze around his cock one more time.

You smirked at his words, making you take a step back at him.

“I’d love that, Captain.” you teased as you stuffed something inside the back pocket of his pants before carefully walking to your car.

Frowning, he reached for his pants and scoffed at the lacey lingerie between his fingers, his boxers feeling restrictive, again.

As you drove off back home, Juyeon did the same, your panties in his hand. He smirked as he noticed the dry stains of your wetness he caused by kissing you.

He couldn’t wait to make you scream his name again. For now, he’d have to use his imagination.

And your panties.

[fckbatmanhiskidsareminenow]

what cars i believe the batfamily drives. my only qualifications are that i work in an auto parts retailer. this is purely based off vibes realistically they probably all drive teslas.

dick drives an early 2000s toyota corolla that he loves to death. he refuses to get a new car until this one dies. (which will be never because it’s a toyota)

jason in my head doesn’t have a car license but if he did drive a car it would be a toyota hilux or ford raptor ranger.

tim drives a newish hyundai i30 or a mazda2. idk why but in my head he drives a cute little hatchback.

cass definitely drives a slick black sedan. maybe a lexus or a mazda6.

steph drives a sedan honda civic because i’ve never met a civic owner that wasn’t girly pop or a upper class asian man.

duke either drives a kia rio OR a mitsubishi lancer OR an older model RAV4.

damian when he gets his first car it’s gonna be a mercedes or a bmw. probably a hatchback or sedan. i’m not sure of model tho.

bruce drives a either a audi, lexus or mercedes. maybe he has one of each. they’re probably all sedans and then he owns like one SUV.

[collapsedsquid]

Betro was allegedly hired by Mohammed Nazir, 30, and his father, Mohammed Aslam, 56, to kill clothing store owner Sikander Ali in September 2019. She is accused of donning a traditional Muslim head covering, slipping out of a Mercedes in suburban Birmingham, and aiming a gun at victim Sikander Ali as he pulled up to his home in an Audi. Her weapon jammed and Ali was able to escape with his life. However, she allegedly returned to the house the following day and fired three shots in the direction of Ali’s home, but that attempt failed as well. The alleged contract killer then fled back to the US two days later and is still at large, the paper said. [...] “She’s using her phone every day, she’s taking pictures out of her apartment window, Snapchatting people all the time.” Her male friend claims that if “police really wanted to catch her, they’d already have her” since she’s using her phone so frequently. “Aimee doesn’t say she had no part of this,” alleged the friend. “She acknowledges she was involved and all that,” the friend alleged. “She just says some of the details aren’t right.” It remains to be seen what exactly she’s been disputing about her involvement in the failed contract killing.

Half-assing the assassination, the denial of her involvement in the assassination, avoiding the cops, amazing level of not putting the effort in here.

[widowpunx]

So freaking happy someone is writing wandanat, I get so tired of all reader insert stuff. Can you write one where G!PNatasha takes Wanda to her first club to celebrate her birthday and some hot dom starts hitting on Wanda and it pisses Nat off and so naturally she ends up getting really possessive and they end up having fantastic drunk sex and Nat figures out that Wanda may be a little kinkier than she realized.

I'm having a super rough day so that would really be a silver lining in all of it.

My Favorite Need

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/Natasha Romanoff

Rated: Explicit [Just 18+]

Words: 3,614

This work contains: Explicit Sex Scenes. Natasha Romanov Has a Penis, Fingerfucking, Vaginal Sex, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex. Possessive Natasha Romanov, Sub Wanda Maximoff, Dom Natasha Romanov, Jealous Natasha Romanov, Wanda is a Tease.

English is not my first language. Sorry for any mistake

Hope you enjoy and makes your day a thousand times better

Wanda had no plans for her birthday after all the unfortunate events that happened the last few weeks, like escaping the raft and becoming an international fugitive but her teammates decided to cheer her up. Steve baked her a birthday cake, Sam gave her the last two books of the Harry Potter saga of which she was a great lover and Natasha gave her a nice black leather jacket and a nice silver necklace with a pretty scarlet jewel which were to Wanda's liking, she loved leather jackets and the necklace was a nice gift. Wanda couldn't help that nice flutter in her chest when Natasha placed the delicate necklace around her neck.

For the first time in a long time Wanda was very excited about her 26th birthday. The surprises seemed to be endless as Natasha decided to invite her to a nightclub for the first time. She was anxious to meet a nightclub for the first time in her life, it could be a fun place to dance. Natasha assured her that this nightclub was the best in Prague. Steve didn't agree with the girls going to a public place like that as it might attract attention but Natasha assured him that she would take care of Wanda. While Steve and Sam would be watching the surroundings of the safe house Natasha and Wanda would be celebrating.

Wanda wore a black dress that Pepper had given her on her last birthday. The dress highlighted her figure and her red hair, she wore black makeup around her green eyes to make them shine even more. Natasha picked her up at the old safe house and gave her a warm hug.

"Happy birthday, little witch." Natasha told her with a sweet crooked smile as her eyes moved up and down admiring the young sokovian girl's beauty. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," Wanda told her, smiling back and trying not to blush. Natasha looked great just in black jeans, combat boots and a black leather jacket and her red hair shining and flowing down her shoulders.

"Come on, I'll show you what a real party is like. Just you and me and vodka to celebrate this very special occasion." Natasha told her, leading Wanda out of the safe house where a black audi was waiting parked on the street.

They arrived at the place and got in without having to wait, thanks to the fact that Natasha knew the owner of the nightclub. The nightclub was full of people, strobe lights all over the place while the hard beats of the music makes every part of Wanda vibrate. Natasha took Wanda's hand and led her to the dance floor. Natasha started to move to the music, and Wanda felt a little awkward as she didn't know how to dance, however Wanda let herself go as she felt Natasha holding her close and swaying to the music.

Wanda smiled broadly as she felt a happiness fill her chest, for a moment she forgot that she was a wanted fugitive and instead she was a normal girl enjoying her birthday. Natasha and Wanda drank some vodka to start the night, however by the fourth vodka Wanda started to feel dizzy but happy.

The happiness inside her increased as she noticed Natasha looking at her with sparkling eyes. Wanda wondered if Natasha had realized her feelings. Wanda had felt more than friendship for the spy for a long time but after Natasha released her from the raft her crush became more intense. Wanda wanted to tell her how she felt, but she didn't know how.

She didn't want to risk embarrassing herself and end up heartbroken if Natasha didn't feel the same way. Worse yet Wanda was afraid of ruining her friendship with Nat. Maybe Natasha just saw her as a little sister.

"You want a beer this time?" asked Natasha, after dancing to several songs.

"Yes, please." nodded Wanda as she finished her vodka tonic, her cheeks a little flushed. "A beer sounds great."

" Wait here, I'll get the beers." Natasha told her with a smile, before going towards the bar.

Wanda was left alone on the dance floor, and took the opportunity to look around. She saw many people dancing and drinking minding their own business and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Meanwhile, a drunk man approached her from behind and whispered in her ear.

"Hey, beautiful, what are you doing alone in a place like this?

Wanda was startled and turned to see who it was. She had to make a great effort not to use her magic and throw the drunk guy into the air. He was a tall, muscular man with shaved head in a red shirt and tight jeans. He had an arrogant smile and red eyes that looked at her as if she was a piece of meat.

" I'm not alone." Wanda said, trying to get away.

"Who are you coming with?" asked the drunken man, taking a step forward, "Where is your date? I don't see it anywhere.

"On the bar getting us some drinks," said Wanda nervously. Her heart was pounding as she fiddled with her fingers, a clear sign of nervousness in her.

"Well, while your imaginary friend comes back, why don't we dance a little?" the man said, taking her by the waist and pulling her closer to him. His accent was harsh.

Wanda felt uncomfortable and scared at the same time. She could use her magic but she didn't want to make a fuss and putting Natasha, Sam and Steve at risk if someone called the police. It was unpleasant when the man pressed her against his body and brushed her face with his. She tried to pull away, but he was stronger than she was. Wanda needed her magic.

"Get away from me." Wanda mumbled, her body all tense."

"Come on, doll. Don't be shy," the drunken man said, winking at her. "I can get you out of here and take you to my apartment if you want."

"I don't like you. I'm not crazy to go with drunk idiot like you." Wanda hissed this time not noticing that a very angry Natasha was walking towards them.

"I like it when bitches like you act tough. In the end they're the ones begging for more cock" the man had a nasty grin on his face.

Wanda was about to respond to the asshole for that disgusting comment but a familiar voice interrupted her. "The girl said to let her go, asshole!" Natasha shouted at him, her voice clear and loud over the pounding music.

"Who are you?" said the drunken man confronting Natasha.

"She's my girlfriend." This time it was Wanda who answered as her face reddened at what she had said. She couldn't believe she had said that. Maybe the vodka in her system made her say such nonsense. Internally she was screaming. "Oh shit! Oh shit!" praying that Natasha wouldn't get mad at her for saying they were girlfriends.

Fortunately Natasha played along as she stepped in front of Wanda.

"Girlfriend? Ha ha ha ha I don't believe you." the man said, teasing the two but his smile faded when Natasha pulled Wanda close and kissed her. The first touch of Natasha's lips against hers sent her to heaven. Wanda was speechless, for a moment she forgot how to breathe. She couldn't believe what was happening, it seemed like the world had stopped around them. Natasha was kissing her. It was what she had dreamed of for so long.

As a smile appeared on her lips, Wanda opened her mouth allowing Natasha to deepen the kiss. They kissed passionately, and forgot about everything else. The heat of Natasha's body pressed against hers was totally intoxicating, Wanda didn't want this moment to ever end. Natasha's lips tasted like vodka and cherry. Wanda realized that Natasha was a fucking good kisser. The man looked at them with rage and helplessness, fortunately the security of the place arrived and took him out of the nightclub.

Natasha was the first to break the kiss to the bad luck of Wanda who could spend all night kissing Nat. The redhead whispered in her ear. "Come with me."

Wanda didn't have time to answer she simply followed Natasha who led her up some stairs to the second floor of the club where there were some private rooms with beds and big curtains at the entrances to offer some privacy to those couples who wanted to have an intimate moment

"Oh god! What are you doing, Natasha?!" Wanda gasped as Natasha pressed her up against the wall.

"So did you say you were my girlfriend, right?"

"Sorry, Nat. That was a very stupid thing to say." Wanda began to apologize. However she couldn't believe the peculiar situation she found herself in.

"No need to apologize, little witch. I actually like the idea of you being my girlfriend." Natasha chuckled as she used her body to press Wanda against the wall. The witch almost groaned when Natasha cupped her left tit and gently squeezing it. Wanda gasped as Natasha laugh and pressed warm kisses on her neck.

Natasha has had her eyes on the Sokovian girl ever since she joined the team, but with every battle and every moment with her only served to make Natasha realize that she loved the girl. Wanda was sweet and smart, and incredibly gorgeous with a pretty face and bright green eyes, and also a gorgeous pair of large tits and a sweet ass. It was just a crush she said to herself the last two years but after what happened with that drunken asshole she'd decided that she would try to make Wanda hers.

Wanda couldn't help but feel a little excited when Natasha pulled down the cleavage of her dress and exposed her bare tits. The touch of Natasha was something more. Everything was happening so fast but at the same time so slow. She wanted to have something really intimate with Natasha. She would be lying if she said no. Wanda has spent whole days fantasizing about Natasha. Her fantasies and desires had only gotten hotter since she discovered Natasha's secret.

One sleepless morning Wanda made herself a cup of tea and started wandering the halls of the complex but abruptly stopped when she noticed noises coming from one of the gyms. Glancing inside she saw Natasha hitting the punching bag. Wanda's mouth went dry as she noticed the view of a very sweaty Natasha practicing some boxing moves. She liked to see the way her arm muscles bulged out. Suddenly her jaw dropped when noticed the outline of a prick on her shorts. Natasha had a penis! The realization almost made her faint. Wanda has never been the same since she discovered Natasha's secret.

Wanda groaned as Natasha pressed her hard against the wall and more forcefully rubbed her stiff nipple. The sokovian witch felt a surge of excitement as her mentor pressed her strong body up against hers. Wanda inhaled sharpy as soon as she could feel a huge bulge rubbing against her crotch.

"Oh god!," Wanda said with wide eyes, her legs were shaking. Natasha's bulge was huge and stiff. Wanda can feel it throbbing against her crotch. She was embarrassed to feel her panties all wet at this point.

"Can you feel it, uh?" Natasha murmured with a smile as she watched Wanda's flushed face.

Wanda didn't have the courage to respond however she nodded as her cheeks grew even redder. She stopped breathing when Natasha took her right hand and slide it down her crotch where her bulging prick was.

"Oh Nat!" Wanda gasped in response as she felt the huge bulge in her jeans. Natasha was awakening a side in her she never knew she had. There was a pleasant tingle between her thighs, and soft throb in her clit. She realized that she was getting wet, very wet under Natasha's touch.

Natasha wasted no time and removed the leather jacket that fell to the floor a minute later leaving Wanda's chest exposed to her eyes with only the small silver necklace with the scarlet jewel adorning her neck.

"Bozhe moi, what a pretty tits," Natasha said, squeezing Wanda's beautiful tits. She couldn't help but pinch her left nipple. That only turned Wanda on. As she continued to kneading her tits, the redhead witch began to get all hot. It was then Natasha slide her free hand slowly worked down her flat belly to the hem of the dress Wanda was wearing.

Wanda shivered when Natasha pressed her soft lips against hers and gave her a hot wet kiss. Natasha was tasting Wanda's mouth and devouring her moans as she began to tug at her wet red panties with her hand. Not wasting time Natasha quickly pushed her index finger into her drooling pussy and began sliding it in and out.

Suddenly Wanda groaned as she threw her head back in pleasure. "Ahhh!" It was a blessing that the loud music of the club drowned out her moan, otherwise they probably would have heard her all the way to the dance floor.

Wanda was breathing hard as Natasha smiled and her finger buried deeper into her pussy. In seconds she began to wildly moan and spread her legs wider as the finger fucked deeper and deeper into her tingling dephts.

"You're super tight, Wanda! What a tight honey pot you have down here, baby!" Natasha hummed in her ear as as added another finger and explore the depths of Wanda's sweet pussy. She couldn't believe how wet the gorgeous witch was, her hand was bathed with her sweet pussy juices.

Wanda was enjoying the pleasant fingerfuck. She was almost was almost there! Ready to cum! Natasha's touch on her pussy were sending thrills up and down her spine. Her head was dizzy and spinning. Not even realizing what she was doing, Wanda giggled and reached down and began kneading Natasha's throbbing cock with her hand.

"Oh yes! Touch me! Yeah! Yeah!" Natasha encouraged her with a devilish smile curving her lips. "Open my pants and pulled out my prick."

Wanda no necesitaba que le dijeran dos veces. She just nodded and bit her lower lips, with her right hand she began to unbutton the pants and lower the zipper. Wanda noticed Natasha's prick seemed to swell and throb as she lowered the zipper. It was a surprise to notice that Natasha didn't wear any underwear, so his huge cock burst out from its confines. Wanda almost drooled as she saw Natasha's beautiful prick protruding from her crotch. It was long and thick with blue veins around it.

Wanda inhaled sharply and grabbed her hard prick as Natasha laughed softly and continued to explore Wanda's wet pussy, playing with her clit. A soft moan fell from her mouth as Wanda began to jerk on Natasha's cock. It seemed to throb in her hand, as the tip drooled droplets of transparent pre-cum.

"Like it, huh?" Natasha asked. The hot flush now covered Wanda's neck and tits.

"Oh yeah! Feels so good!" Wanda nodded in approval and began to moan as she approached orgasm. Her hand wrapped around Natasha's throbbing prick."I love your fingers in me. It feels so good"

"I love to play with your pussy, baby!" Natasha whispered as Wanda continued to jerk her aching cock. She groaned in appreciative ecstasy and began to spread hot kisses on Wanda's neck as she added the third finger and fucked her.

Wanda was ready to reach her climax, and she suspect that by the way Natasha was groaning and kissing her neck, she was ready to cum too. She could hear the slurping sound her fingers were making in her wet pussy. It was sexy to hear that. She couldn't contain herself any longer.

"Oh, Nat! Mmmm that's nice! Mmmm!" Wanda gasped, her throat was dry, her body was melting. Finally she came, moaning and giggling. It was then she felt Natasha's prick throb and spewing cum all over her hand.

Wanda looked down just in time to see Natasha's cumming. She kept stroking Natasha's cock for a long time. It seemed as if she would never stop cumming. Certainly Wanda was amazed at the amount. Her hand was a mess, some ropes of semen fell on the carpeted floor.

"God, that was sexy!" Wanda thought with a smile. She felt an incredible urgency of kneel and lick all Natasha's creamy semen. Without thinking, she put her wet fingers in her mouth and tasted Natasha's semen. She was surprised how delicious the creamy seed tasted, it was a little salty, but it still tasted so delicious.

"Taste good, little slut?" Natasha just laughed in response.

"Uh huh" Wanda nodded with her fingers still stuck in her mouth. Still horny, Natasha gently pushed her down on couch in the middle of the room and said: "Now you horny little slut, it's time to fuck you."

Wanda fell on the couch and watch the dominant redhead standing over her, her thick cock hard throbbing in the air. She hummed softly and grabbed her huge cock and guided it to her glistening cunt hole. "Fuck me hard! I need it so bad! I'm all wet and ready for you!"

For a moment Wanda couldn't believe what she had said, after all, the woman before her was her mentor. But her emotions and her urgent needs were too much for her, and at the moment she just wanted to get fucked by Natasha's huge cock.

"Tell me who do you belong to? Come on I want to hear you say my name!." Natasha had a seductive smile on her face , her hand wrapped around her throbbing prick.

"To you. Only you." Wanda replied shakily and noted the delight in Natasha's eyes as she guiding her prick and inserted the bulbous cockhead between the lips of her pussy. Seeing the lustful expression on Wanda's blushed face, Natasha slowly shoved the inch after inch of her thick cock into her warm tight pussy.

"Ohhhh! Fuck!!" Wanda had to closer her eyes and moaned as Natasha lunged forward, sending her thick cock deeply into her. She was enjoying the new stimulation so much but she thought that she was going to be split in two by Natasha.

Natasha groaned and pulled back for a moment and gave the gorgeous witch a moment to adapt the size before she fucked her. Wanda was shaking up and down as Natasha slowly withdrew her cock till only the tip remained, then she slide it in and out. Slowly she began to stablish a constant hard rhythm. 

"Ohhhh goddd!" Wanda groaned in delight, for the hard thrusts she began to have delicious effects on her semi-naked body. She couldn't believe the sensations that were filling her body. The initial discomfort was vanishing and turning into pleasure as the veiny shaft was slicing through her inflamed and glistening folds.

"Oh, baby! You're so tight and hot for me!" Natasha growled and began to speed up her thrusts. She smiled as she felt Wanda's quivering legs raise up and encircle her ass. Wanda was also smiling but mostly groaning as her feminine hips rose to meet each of her hard thrusts.

Holy shit! Wanda had never been more excited. Natasha was satisfying her more than any person in the world. Natasha was hitting all the sweet spots within her as goosebumps covered her skin.

"I'm cumming! Oh Natasha! I'm cumming!" Wanda giggled happily as her body began to shiver. Her nails raked across Natasha's strong back ass as she pulled her closer. "Cum in me! Oh yes! Give it to me!" She moaned in ecstasy as her drooling pussy convulse and tingle. All the situation was amazing. Her body was burning with intense happiness, her sticky pussy juices ran down onto her inner thighs. Natasha continued fucking her with a devilish smile on her face.

Wanda she was ready to cum again. She climaxed twice in the previous fifteen minutes, but she was ready to cum again. What an incredible experience! Natasha was grunting with eyes closed and pumped her prick into her spasming pussy. Wanda squealed in delight at the sensation. She wanted to feel Natasha's semen filling her pussy and painting her depths..

"Oh, baby, your pussy is so tight, I'm gonna shoot all my cum into you!" Natasha growled as she began to fuck faster into her pussy. "Would you like that?"

"Ohhhh yesss!!" Wanda groaned in delight and closed her eyes, loved the way Natasha was forcing her huge prick into her, each penetration was delicious, splitting her in two and leaving her breathless. Her own orgasm was building and ready to explode like a super nova.

"Faster, baby! ... Fuck me harder and faster!" Wanda was giggling as Natasha give her a few rough thrusts into her cunt and then a torrent of semen exploded from her aching prick. "Oh that's good! Mmmm!" Wanda babbled, her words came out in short heavy breaths. She felt the warm semen filling her and then her tingling pussy dephts around Natasha's cock. For a moment Wanda wished she would never stop cumming as her own orgasm engulfed her body. Wanda was shaking violently and struggling to breath, feeling Natasha's semen ran freely out of her pussy and down her ass.

Finally, Natasha kissed her on the lips and pulled off her semi hard prick "If you don't mind I'd like to continue exploring that kinky side of you little witch."

"I don't mind at all." Wanda laughed tiredly. Her first fuck with Natasha made her eager to repeat more experiences with Natasha. Just having this woman to satisfy the intense desires in her. At the end of the day her 26th birthday turned out better than expected.

[seat-safety-switch]

I have a filthy confession to make. I still love Volkswagens. No, not the current ones, with their humming-coughdrop efficiency and Teutonic stereos made entirely of hovering touchscreens that you can't get rid of even when you go to sleep at night. No, I mean the real shit: water-cooled cars from the 80s and 90s.

Yeah, I hear you air-cooled folks in the background screaming at me about how spending ten thousand dollars for approximately 36 horsepower is a way more fun way to exist. To you, I have no polite reply. You have gone so far down the rabbit hole (get it?) that there is simply nothing that can be done to rehabilitate you into regular society. For the rest of us, I think we can all acknowledge that the Mk3 GTI is underrated.

Sure, when they were new, and even when they were a little bit old, nobody liked the Mk3. You've got the Mk2, which is fun and zingy, and the Mk4, which is luxurious and fast. The Mk3 is... neither of those things. So everyone threw them in the bin as soon as they could, and went to go buy Audi Allroads instead. Joke's on you, suckers. You accidentally made those shitboxes into rare collectibles and I hope the exploding-heater-core coolant burns to your face and genitals heal quickly.

Thing is, there's just something about these terrible cars. Maybe it's because they're boxy. Possibly it's because I have a compulsive hoarding behaviour that makes me want to rescue unloved vehicles from oblivion. Most likely, though, it's because I still harbour a delusional fantasy that it's possible to buy a car – any car – for under one thousand fucking dollars, and surely these hated shitbaskets must be somewhere near the bottom of Kelley Blue Book value.

For me, the disease is so bad that I'll sometimes drive past farmer's fields in the most racist part of the outskirts of my city. I hope that they have an old Mk3 GTI just sitting there, up on blocks. That there's some kind of combination of honeyed words, fast-cash-flashes, and freshly-deceased owners that will let me escape with a five hundred dollar one. And then, I will finally be able to live my fantasy of owning and operating a car I didn't want twenty years ago.

I'm sure you feel the same way about the Mk3 GTI, too. If you don't, maybe you should go take a look at one. Then tell me which farmer's field it's in and if his widow is willing to accept cash, or if she would strongly prefer Venmo.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 3: The House Of Soup, Salad, And Breadsticks]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, Nintendo, smoking, kids, parenthood, all-you-can-eat breadsticks, wedding planning, mentions of birth trauma and abortion, a brief Greek lesson, Audi Quattros have very tiny back seats.

Word Count: 9k (someone take this laptop away from me!! I am out of control!!).

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @eltherevirr @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @daenysx @gemini-mama @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @aemonddtargaryen @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbell @urmomsgirlfriend1

Thank you so much for your patience and encouragement, I was really not doing well for a while but all your kind comments meant the world to me!!! I don't know when Chapter 4 will be ready, but hopefully early next week. My posting schedule is super wonky now. We'll get back to regular Sunday updates eventually, besties. 🥰🧁

It’s Thursday, late-morning, sunlight bending in through the open windows and a flock of blue-winged teals toddling through the backyard on their clumsy webbed feet. From the little pink Panasonic boombox pipes Whitesnake’s Here I Go Again. Your steps as you dart around the kitchen are airy and effortless; you’re humming without realizing that you are. You can’t seem to stop watching the clock, the second hand ticking endlessly, revolving like a moon around its planet. Olive Garden tonight! Olive Garden with Aemond!

“Knock knock?” your guest ventures tentatively as the front door creaks. You hear her heels click on the ever-so-slightly inclined floor and the bright jangling of keys and bracelets. Her accent does not surprise you; you were the one who answered the phone when she called in a panic yesterday.

Jade Dragon is a European company. I shouldn’t be shocked that Brits are descending upon Napoleonville.

You greet her from the kitchen, sight unseen: “Hi! Come on in!” Amir rushes over to set the very last cupcake on the glass serving tray, key lime with cream cheese frosting peppered with zest like flecks of emeralds. You have scrubbed the counter meticulously to make a space for your guest to do her cake tasting. There is an open wooden barstool for her, a yellow legal pad for you to jot down her selections. She steps into the kitchen—click click click, jangle jangle—and she is a stranger, surely, and yet something about her face strikes you as familiar.

“I really must thank you again,” the woman says, wringing her pinkish little hands, glittering with rings; she’s flushed all over from the heat, which she isn’t used to. She wears what for many women would be their Sunday Best: a modest organza dress patterned with sunflowers, gold jewelry and heels, and (oddly) a khaki overcoat that runs to her knees. Her hair hangs in thick, glossy, auburn waves. She smells like perfume, amber and roses, a brand you don’t recognize. “I was so distressed when I called, I must have sounded like a madwoman. It’s all just been so fraught. I know this is very last-minute, and I cannot tell you how much I appreciate you making time to see me today. I’m sure you’re very busy.”

“We are delighted to help!” Amir croons warmly as he swoops in to take her coat, which she surrenders with some bewilderment, her large dark eyes clever but innately vulnerable, anxious. Again, you cannot shake the sense that you have met her before. Amir’s hands sweep down the overcoat as he peeks at the tag inside, and he mouths to you, grinning, eyebrows raised above the tortoiseshell rims of his glasses: Christian Dior! He’s delighted to help this lady, sure; but he’s far more enthusiastic about the prospect of squirreling away more cash for his imminent exodus to San Francisco. Amir hangs the coat in the tiny living room closet and then goes to the stovetop to check on the Kentucky butter cookies that are cooling there.

“Amir and I love baking for any occasion related to a wedding. Everyone is cheerful and excited…and hungry too, of course!” You give your guest a reassuring smile and wave her over to the counter. She’s still tormenting her own hands, still glancing uncertainly around the kitchen. Amir is using a spatula to transfer the cookies from the baking sheet to a cake plate. “Remind me, ma’am, on the phone you said your name was…Allison?”

“Alicent,” she corrects, taking a seat on the barstool beside you and clutching a camel-colored leather purse. She hesitates before she adds: “Targaryen.”

Targaryen?! Jade Dragon?! You gawk at her. Amir drops a Kentucky butter cookie on the floor. You exchange a glance with him and can practically see the bills flitting through his mind: Washington, Lincoln, Hamilton, Jackson, Franklin.

“Please don’t make any fuss on my account,” Alicent pleads with those sleek, imploring eyes. “I’m just a customer, just an ordinary customer—”

“A VIP customer!” Amir says, beaming. He won’t work on their rigs, but he’ll take their money in a heartbeat. He considers it compensation for the inevitable environmental catastrophe, for the souls of all the places their dynasty bleeds dry.

“Ma’am…Alicent…Mrs. Targaryen…” you sputter. “What on earth brought you here?”

“My son is getting married.” She squeezes her eyes shut, an infinitesimal frustration, a self-reproach. “Our son, I mean. Viserys and I, our son is getting married, and we’re hosting an engagement party for him and his fiancée this Saturday, as I mentioned when I called. We had arranged to have caterers fly in, but now there’s some sort of visa problem and they won’t be able to make it in time. I found a company based out of New Orleans that is very well thought of for hors d’oeuvre and lunch, but the cakes I sampled…well…they left a lot to be desired. I was desperate, I tell you, utterly bereft, you know we have family and friends and all these industry representatives who will be in attendance, photographers, journalists, and I can’t ruin it, I can’t embarrass the happy couple, it’s not as if people get more than one chance at a wedding!”

Amir rolls his eyes at you from across the kitchen. Listen to this idiot, he means.

“But then I asked around town, and I got the same recommendation over and over again,” Alicent tells you, smiling now. “Everyone said that I just had to stop by Hummingbird Bakery.”

And now you know exactly where you recognize her from. She looks so much like the drunk man from the holding cell; his hair was blonde and his eyes were that sad swirling blue, but nonetheless he was a Targaryen the same as Alicent, and they share so much of the same bones, blood, innate defenselessness. That boy is getting married? His poor goddamn bride. “Well I am thrilled that you found your way to us, Mrs. Alicent Targaryen. And I think you’ll taste at least a few cakes that you’d be proud to serve at the engagement party.”

“And you can have them ready by Saturday?” Alicent asks fretfully.

“Absolutely.” You won’t sleep much between now and then, but the business matters more. And if you can recruit the Targaryens and some of their associates as regular customers…well, you might actually be able to start saving up for that new house Aemond asked you about on the night you met. You gesture to the glass tray on the counter. “Amir and I have baked twelve cupcakes for you to sample today. I’ll write up a list of the flavors you like best, and we can make any customizations. You can choose one flavor and have multiple cakes made, or four cakes in four different flavors, or any other arrangement, you just let me know and we’ll see that your wishes are granted.”

“These are all for me?!” Alicent says, surveying the cupcakes.

“Yes ma’am. Vanilla bean, triple chocolate, coconut, red velvet, carrot, white chocolate raspberry, key lime, lemon, peanut brittle, cherry chocolate chip, blueberry jam and cream cheese, and hummingbird. But don’t get overwhelmed, you only have to eat one bite of each.”

“And whatever you don’t finish we’ll let Cadi throw to the gator,” Amir says.

“Gator?” Alicent is alarmed.

“She lives in the tree row,” you explain. “She doesn’t bother anyone.” And you almost add: Except Aemond, of course. He hates her.

“Oh. Fascinating.” Alicent blinks a few times. “And who is Cadi?”

“My daughter. She’s ten, she’s at school. She’s…” You glance at the clock. “Learning about fractions and decimals at the moment.”

“How wonderful! And what does your husband do for work?”

“Terrorism,” Amir says, and Alicent Targaryen’s jaw drops.

“He’s the sheriff of Assumption Parish,” you swiftly amend. “But he’s my ex-husband now.”

Alicent doesn’t know how to reply. She stares at the cupcakes instead of at you. After several long, awkward seconds, she says: “My, do these look delicious! Where should I start?”

“Wherever you’d like.”

“This one is hummingbird cake, you said?” She picks it up. Her hands are fidgety; she doesn’t seem to ever stop moving. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Did you name the bakery after it, or did you name the cake after the bakery?”

“Oh no, the cake existed first. It’s been popular around here since…what, Amir? The 60s? Something like that. My mom taught me how to make it when I was seventeen. Hummingbird cake was my favorite dessert for years.”

“It’s from Jamaica originally,” Amir notes. The Kentucky butter cookies are displayed on the kitchen table, and now he’s beginning to peel vivid green Granny Smith apples for dumplings.

“It has bananas, pineapple, cinnamon, pecans…”

“Mmm!” Alicent sighs as she takes a bite. “Oh, it’s fantastic! The different fruits add such dimension of flavor! And the texture too, so interesting. Very substantial, almost like a fruitcake. Yes, I think that is a strong contender.” She continues on to the next cupcake. As she nibbles on each one, she chats nervously, almost compulsively. “She’s a darling girl. Woman, I mean. My future daughter-in-law.”

You get up to pour Alicent a glass of sweet tea. “What’s her name?” you ask politely. You are actively trying not to let your thoughts drift to Olive Garden: soup, salad, breadsticks, Aemond licking blood-red marinara sauce from his lips as he smirks at you from across the table, acting like he doesn’t want to be there.

“Christabel.” Alicent sets down the carrot cupcake, opens her purse, and digs through her wallet for a photograph. It’s small and rectangular, and the girl trapped inside the frame—a girl, truly, if she’s twenty you’ll eat your white denim shorts—looks like Teri Copley: billowing platinum hair, squarish jaw, pink cheeks and red lips, large dollish blue eyes. She reminds you of Barbie; she reminds you of something that belongs in a box on a shelf somewhere. “Her father is a marquess.”

“She’s gorgeous! And is that…is that a job…?”

“It’s a title,” Alicent Targaryen says with a demure, apologetic smile as she tucks the photo back into her wallet. She has spoken of things she should have known were above you. “Like a duke or a baron. Christabel is from a noble family back in the United Kingdom. Milford Haven, more specifically.”

Amir gasps, elated, waving his paring knife around in the air. “She’s just like Princess Diana!”

“She’s very young,” Alicent says, a bit wearily. She takes a bite of the lemon cupcake. “But then again, I was even younger when I got married, seventeen. That’s just the way it was back then. None of my friends even thought of going off to school for years and years, or playing the field, or getting a serious job. In our eyes, there were no other options. You found a good man from an acceptable family and you settled down and started having babies.” Alicent sips her sweet tea, ice jangling in the frosted glass. “Oh, that’s dreadful! Cold tea!” She shudders. “I suppose that’s how you all keep from getting heatstroke down here. Cold drinks and no clothes.”

“Sorry.” You glance self-consciously down at your shorts.

“No no, it’s quite alright. I’m in your jungle, I can’t expect you to conform to my idiosyncrasies.” This is a word you don’t know, although you try not to show it. Then Alicent winks. “Now, if you ever find yourself across the pond…”

I’ll never visit another country. Nevertheless, you chuckle as Alicent expects you to. “I understand what you mean about not having options. I got married at seventeen too.”

“Did you?” she asks, somber now. Her large umber eyes are uneasy, searching.

“Yeah. I was way too young. And unfortunately, the only way to know you’re too young is to not be young anymore. And by then you’ve already made such a mess of things.”

Amir looks over at you; this is not recruiting-a-customer conversation. Alicent nods, slow and thoughtful, studying you with those vast eyes like a dark mirror image of that Targaryen boy in the holding cell. She nibbles on the peanut brittle cupcake to avoid having to respond.

You pivot. “How many children do you have?”

Now Alicent brightens. “Four.”

“That many! I can’t even imagine. They must bring you so much joy.”

“In between the chaos, yes,” Alicent says, sampling the key lime cupcake. “Daeron is my youngest, he’s so sweet-natured, so encouraging, always offering to help with my projects around the house. He never complains. He hasn’t been gobbled up by the company yet. My only criticism is his obsession with his godawful parrot. I’d have it murdered, but tragically Daeron already knows it’s supposed to live 50 years. Helaena reads a lot—about gardens and insects and other planets, all sorts of things I can’t make heads or tails of—but she’s kind and gentle, and she still lets me fix her hair and take her shopping once in a while.” You think, smiling: If I tried to touch Cadi’s hair, I think she’d claw my face off. “And then my son who’s getting married—”

The front door bangs open and heavy footsteps race across the floor. He appears in the kitchen: greased-back black hair, a single gold earring, tan skin, white suit, a bold Hawaiian shirt—sapphire blue water, green palm trees, hot pink flamingos—underneath. He’s breathing heavily and his forehead gleams with perspiration. Alicent appears stunned to see him.

“Criston? What’s wrong? I said you could wait in the Lexus.”

Amir asks the man: “You’ve been in the car this whole time?”

“Don’t feel too bad for me. The Lexus has air conditioning.” The man, Criston, turns back to Alicent. “There’s a lizard out there!”

Amir sighs impatiently. “It’s a gator. And she’s perfectly harmless.”

“I just watched her maul a duck to death! There’s blood all over the grass!”

Amir is unfazed. “To humans, I mean.” He resumes peeling apples.

You tell Amir glumly: “I might have to get Willis to shoot her.”

“Only if it’s a murder-suicide.”

“Criston, help me choose,” Alicent says. She has a gift for ignoring unpleasantness, you’re beginning to notice. “I suddenly feel so overwhelmed.”

He walks over to the counter and begins taking a hefty bite out of each cupcake, eating after Alicent without any trepidation. They confer in murmurs, nods, shrugs, their own language that is threaded with a distinct and curious familiarity. Alicent catches you observing.

“He’s my bodyguard,” she explains hastily, then titters. “And my personal assistant, and my driver…”

“And your babysitter,” Criston says, grinning, crumbs all over his face.

“Yes, they never seem to outgrow the need for that, do they?” Then Alicent addresses you. “Could you manage to have six cakes ready by Saturday, do you think? They’re all so lovely. I don’t think I can narrow it down to less than that.”

Amir casts you a petrified glance. Notwithstanding that, you reply: “I suppose we can handle six.”

“Brilliant.” And you think: Aemond uses that word a lot too. “Then we’d like one vanilla, one chocolate, one blueberry, one coconut, and one hummingbird. And a key lime. I just adore the color, don’t you? A gorgeous, vivid green. It reminds me of the moors back home.”

“Yes ma’am.” You scribble her order down on your legal pad.

“And how much do your cakes cost?”

“$10 each,” Amir tells her.

“$10!” Alicent exclaims, looking at Criston. “Can you believe that? We’re certainly not in Knightsbridge anymore.” She takes $60 out of her wallet and hands it to you. “And you can deliver it to the house if I leave you an address? Around noon on Saturday?”

“Of course, no problem.”

Alicent gives you an address to add to your notes—you don’t recognize the street name, it must be in a new development—and then checks the clock on the wall. “Oh, is that right?! Christabel will be landing at the airport any minute. I’ve got to rush back to the house to make sure everything is ready for her. I can’t be a subpar host.”

“Where’s your coat, Ali?” Criston asks.

“In that closet over there.”

Criston fetches her coat and drapes it over her shoulders. Amir flashes you a salacious smirk. You wiggle your eyebrows back.

As Alicent and Criston cross the kitchen towards the living room and the front door, they pause by the table where an assortment of baked goods, different every day, is displayed for walk-in customers. Criston points to a cake plate piled high with Rice Krispie Treats. “You know who likes those,” he says softly.

“They’re very popular!” Amir announces, ever the salesman. “And we can make them with any kind of cereal you could imagine. Fruity Pebbles, Frosted Flakes, Cocoa Puffs…”

Alicent says, a bit randomly: “Cap’n Crunch?”

Amir doesn’t hesitate. “Absolutely!”

“Alright.” She has a faraway look in those dark oil-drop eyes, always a little shimmery, always a little sad. “I’ll take two dozen of those as well.”

“I’ll add it to the list,” you say.

“Thank you. Cheers.”

“Cheers,” you echo, perplexed.

Criston and Alicent depart. You hear the front door swing open and then close again. Outside, Criston reminds Alicent to leave plenty of space between her and the gator. An engine rumbles and gravel crunches as the Lexus rolls out of the driveway.

“If they’re not fucking, I’m Tom Cruise,” Amir says. “Speaking of fucking, what time is Scarface coming to pick you up?”

“5:15.” You nod to where Alicent was sitting. “She’s not bad for a robber baron.”

“Oh, please. She would grind your bones into flour if that’s what it took to have cakes ready for her child bride engagement party. I hope that Christabel girl knows what she’s getting into.”

What is she, eighteen? Nineteen? “She doesn’t.” The phone rings and you scramble for it. “Hello?!”

It’s not Aemond. “Hey, sugar.”

Ugh. “Hi, Willis.” Across the kitchen, Amir mimes slitting his own wrists with the paring knife.

“Listen,” Willis drawls in his familiar, I’m-about-to-deliver-bad-news tone. You can hear noise wherever he is: sirens, shouting. He must be using his car phone. “I’m all tied up down here on Route 90, we got a hell of a wreck, ten cars and an 18-wheeler. Had to close all the goddamn lanes in both directions. I don’t think I’m gonna get home until late, really late, maybe not ‘til 9 or 10.”

“So you have to switch nights. You can’t pick Cadi up from school.”

“Tell her I’m sorry, will ya? And that I’ll take her fishin’ this weekend to make it up to her. I’ll keep her Saturday and Sunday, if that works for you.”

“She’ll love that,” you say distractedly. No Olive Garden. No Aemond. Not tonight, anyway. “Anything outside and with animals. Anything that lets her get filthy.”

“Thanks for understandin’. I gotta run.”

“Bye.”

“So long, sugar.” Willis hangs up. So do you.

“Oh no!” Amir waves his knife around threateningly. “No, not a chance, that gremlin does not get to ruin the first real date you’ve had in…what…ever?!”

You smile; you can’t help it. “It’s not a date. Aemond is fancy and kinky, I’m a mom covered in frosting, people like us don’t date. Besides, his personal ad was very clear: Single and not looking to change that.”

“He’s not acting very single.” Amir begins chopping the peeled apples.

“It’s fine. It happens. We can go to Olive Garden some other time. I’ll try to call Aemond, and if he doesn’t answer I’ll tell him when he gets here. Maybe we can at least chat on the front porch for a while or something. Watch the lightning bugs come out as it gets dark.”

“I’ll hang out here with Cadi,” Amir offers.

“What? Really?” Olive Garden might be back on the menu! “You will?”

“Yeah, ho. I can’t in good conscience just stand by while you are deprived of traumatized war veteran dick. I need a break from Grandma anyway. She’s gotten really into Unsolved Mysteries and that shit gives me the creeps. I don’t want to hear about missing or murdered people. I’m already scared I might end up like that.”

“I’d find you. I’d rescue you. My and my pet gator.”

Amir laughs, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. “Sure you would.”

“I’ll give you $10 out of my share of the bakery profits this week. For watching Cadi, I mean.”

“Deal,” he says. “Now help me with these dumplings so we can get started on those six cakes for the motherfucking Rockefellers.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s 5:13 p.m. when Aemond arrives at what Cadi named the Fall-Down House when she was in kindergarten, toting in her Chewbacca backpack sheets of homework about shapes and seasons, things you could help her with. You wonder what you’ll say when she gets to her senior year of high school and starts asking about calculus, physics, Shakespeare, college applications. It’ll be like she’s trying to talk to you in a foreign language. It’ll be like trying to explain colors to a blind man.

You’re almost done wiping down the stove and counter; Amir and Cadi are singing along and dancing to Kyrie by Mr. Mister: the Moonwalk, the Electric Slide, the Wop, the Sprinkler. Aemond wanders in and hovers on the border between the living room and the kitchen, his neon teal duffle bag hanging from one shoulder, staring with this profound, childlike puzzlement on his face. He looks like he’s never seen people dancing before; it’s some exotic ritual, some rite of a religion he doesn’t practice. He wears dark jeans, a black button-up shirt, black Converses, and his trusty Marlboro jacket. His fists are buried deep in the pockets like he’s holding something precious there, treasure, wisdom, secrets.

“Wassup, Scarface?!” Amir yells over the music, pretending to be reeling Aemond in like a fish. “Show us your best moves! Do the Worm! Do the Robocop!”

Aemond raises an eyebrow, drops his duffle bag, and—after a moment’s hesitation—glides across the tilted wooden floor to you. He takes your hands, spins you around, something like a clumsy, out-of-practice waltz, something real and enchanting beyond measure. And when was the last time you really danced with a man? Willis’ senior prom? Aemond sings as Amir and Cadi do the Running Man:

“Kyrie eleison down the road that I must travel,

Kyrie eleison through the darkness of the night,

Kyrie eleison where I’m going, will you follow?

Kyrie eleison on a highway in the night…”

Aemond releases you, sweeps his blonde hair off his forehead, and guzzles your frosty glass of sweet tea that you left on the counter in an expanding pool of condensation. You are reminded of how Criston devoured the cupcakes with no concern for the fact that Alicent had already tasted them.

“Such a weird song,” Cadi says as it fades out, as the cicadas and nighthawks grow louder through the screens of the open windows. “What the heck is a kyrie eleison?”

“It means Lord have mercy,” Aemond tells her. “It’s Greek.”

“Willis got stuck cleaning up an accident about a half hour south of here,” you explain. “But Amir and Cadi are going to have some nice couch potato time together.”

“Can we watch Unsolved Mysteries?” Cadi asks Amir excitedly, clinging to his arm. Amir groans.

“I might have an alternative,” Aemond says. He returns to his duffle bag, unzips it, and produces—not blue silk scarves, fuzzy handcuffs, a riding crop, or any other tokens of depravity—but a Nintendo game console.

Cadi screams and sprints to Aemond, unable to rip it out of his hands fast enough. “No way! Really?! I can play it?!”

“You can keep it.”

“What?!” She ogles the tannish rectangular box, the two handheld controllers. “This is the most epic day of my life!”

“I’m glad I could deliver it in person. I was just going to leave it with your mum.” Aemond starts taking cartridges out of the duffle bag. “I have Commando, Super Mario Bros., Star Force, the Karate Kid, Kung Fu, Burger Time, Donkey Kong and Donkey Kong 3, Alpha Mission, the Legend of Zelda, and Golf, which I honestly would not recommend. I used to have Top Gun too, but my brother spilled Tang all over it.”

“This is better than Christmas!” Cadi shrieks. “This is better than my birthday!” She dashes to Amir and starts hauling him off towards her room. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

“I’m being kidnapped,” he tells you, feigning distress.

“Cadi, chill. Do you know how to hook that up to your tv?”

She reluctantly surrenders Amir’s hand. “Yeah, Michelle has one.”

“Okay. You can get it ready, I have to talk to Amir for a sec.”

“Fine,” she grumbles, and vanishes into her bedroom with the Nintendo and a precarious armful of game cartridges.

“Thank you,” you tell Amir quietly. “Seriously. I know I owe you.”

He grins. “Anytime. You’re helping to pay my way to San Fransisco, I really can’t complain.”

Aemond perks up. “You’re visiting San Fran?”

“I’m moving there,” Amir says. “And as soon as humanly possible! Sun, sand, and Speedos, here I come! Why? Have you been?”

“I have, actually. It’s a great city.”

You turn to Aemond; this is new information. “Did you go to school there?”

“No, I went to Imperial College in London. But I flew to San Franscisco to interview someone I was writing a term paper about.”

Amir squints at him. “Imperial paid for you to fly across the world for one interview?”

Aemond shrugs, hands back in his jacket pockets. “I got, uh, a research stipend.”

You ask: “Who did you interview?”

“I don’t think you’d recognize the name, but he was a really incredible guy. He was a nurse and the first person to ever come out publicly as having AIDS. Then he spent the rest of his life educating people about the disease. Bobbi—”

“Bobbi Campbell?!” Amir is awed. “Of course I know who he is! You actually met Bobbi Campbell?!”

“Yeah, we had lunch together. Wine and cioppino. His partner was there too.” Aemond is somber, reflective. “It’s probably the most worthwhile thing I’ve ever done.”

“Well you just get better and better, don’t you, big boy?” Amir says. “Have fun at Olive Garden. Don’t hurry home or anything.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You are beaming, serene, warm all over, bewitched by the magic of liminal spaces, doorways between realities that rarely touch. Frank Sinatra—Fly Me To The Moon—floats through the restaurant speakers. The table is cluttered with plates and bowls: breadsticks, salad wet with Italian dressing, zuppa toscana, minestrone, main courses. Families in nearby booths are chattering; wine glasses clink, stories are recalled. You always wonder when you see cheerful married couples surrounded by children: Are they really happy? Is it worth it? Or do they go home after these displays of fairytale adoration and ignore each other, argue, brawl, crack open the Bud Lights, crack knuckles, crack bones like glass? Does true love exist at all? Or is it a lie we’re taught so the species can live on? “I’m in Italy.”

“You’re not in Italy, Cupcake. You’re in Gonzales, Louisiana. I can glance out the window and see a Doller General and a Burger King.”

“I’m basically in Italy.” You gesture to your plate, large and oval-shaped. Your entrée is divided into thirds: chicken parmesan, lasagna, fettuccine alfredo. “I got the Tour of Italy. I’m now an expert in all things Italian.”

Aemond smiles at you, the way he usually does: amused, teasing, craving. “In Italy, the pasta is always al dente. And they use very little sauce, not like here where everything is drowning in it.”

“I personally love my ocean of sauce.”

“And in Italy the bread is served plain. No butter, no olive oil, no…” He scrutinizes a breadstick. “Whatever this is. Assorted soy products, probably.”

“Don’t ruin my dinner or I’ll tie you up next time.”

Aemond laughs: crinkles around his eyes, pure boyish radiance. “Go ahead. I dare you.” He eats a bite of his herb-grilled salmon. “I looked into your Saint Honoratus of Amiens. He’s the patron saint of bakers.”

You roll your eyes like this is obvious. You like knowing something Aemond doesn’t, Aemond with his vocabulary and his high-powered career and his petroleum engineering degree from Imperial College in London, England, a place you have never seen and never will, a city that might as well be located on one of Saturn’s rings. “Yeah, clearly.”

But you never feel like the clever one for long. “And of oil refiners.”

“Is he really?”

Aemond grins. “Yeah. So we’ll have to share him.”

“Did you ever think about doing something besides engineering?” You already know the answer. You saw it in the way he talked about Bobbi Campbell.

“I did,” Aemond admits. “The engineering thing…it was expected of me. It wasn’t really my choice. It’s fine, I’m okay with my job, I’ve come to terms with it. But when I was a kid, I wanted to be a historian.”

“People get paid for that? To study history?”

“Not a lot. But I love the stories. When I was at Imperial, I’d fill every extra space in my schedule with history and anthropology courses. I interviewed Bobbi for my Microhistory class.”

“Micro…history? Tiny history…?”

“You learn everything there is to know about one individual, or one town, or one product, whatever, and through it you can get a better sense of the bigger picture. Like…you could catalogue what specific pieces of furniture were in George Washington’s house to study 18th-century trade routes.”

“Or you could use Ketchikan, Alaska as an example of the dangers of oil rigs and the corrupt, greedy company policies of modern-day robber barons.”

Aemond stares at you. “Yeah. Sure. You get it.” He wastes no time changing the subject. “Where did you go to college?”

“College?” This is preposterous. “Aemond, I never finished high school.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not,” you say. “I dropped out. I don’t have a high school diploma. I definitely didn’t go to college.”

He’s utterly bewildered. “But…you aren’t stupid.”

“Yes, Aemond, a lot of not-stupid people don’t go to college. And I’d imagine the opposite is true as well.”

He sighs, long and deep, rubbing his scarred forehead with his fingertips. “I’m sorry. I could have worded that more sensitively.”

“Willis is a year older than me. I got pregnant the night of his senior prom. I never went back after summer break. I figured…you know…what was the point? I didn’t need Calculus or World History. I needed money. I needed baby clothes and a crib and a car. And my high school wouldn’t have let me in anyway.”

Now Aemond glares, though his wrath isn’t for you. “They kicked out pregnant girls?”

You smile wryly, chomping on a breadstick wet with marinara sauce. “They still do. They have to make cautionary tales out of us. The weak and the lustful.”

“Well then how the fuck is someone like you supposed to provide for yourself?”

“By marrying whoever got us pregnant and never leaving them.”

“Medieval,” he snaps. He stabs at his salmon, loses his appetite, slams the fork down on the plate. The waitress had just been approaching to ask about dessert; she does a 180 and vanishes again.

“Aemond,” you say gently. I don’t want to ruin tonight. “Please don’t be angry.”

“There are specific things that make me angry.” He rests his chin on his knuckles and peers out the window. Seconds tick by; Frank Sinatra sings about New York, another city you’ll never visit. Then Aemond looks at you again. “What is it like to be a parent?” he says, in the same reverent and mystified tone that someone might use to ask what it was like to flatline on an operating table before being brought back to life. Did you get a glimpse of the gates of Heaven? Did you feel the heat of Hell?

“I can only tell you how it feels to me.” You are wistful; you are painfully honest. You’ve never told anyone this before. No one has ever asked. “It’s…wonderful, and terrifying, and exhausting. You love them more than anything, but that doesn’t mean you don’t get tired, irritated, impatient, resentful. One minute you’re laughing hysterically with them, the next you’re begging them to go to sleep so you can have a half hour to yourself, or just ten minutes, or just five. And then as soon as they’re gone you miss them. You’re too strict or too lenient, never just right. You sacrifice—money, time, your body, your soul—but it’s never enough. You accidentally hurt their feelings and then tie yourself in knots to fix it, but you can never show them when you’re sad, or frustrated, or afraid. They can be so sweet and then so inadvertently cruel. They’re too young to understand that they’re being ungrateful. They ask you questions you don’t want to answer. They’re your reason for living, they’re a burden, they’re the best thing that ever happened to you, they’re your closest friend, they’ve trapped you somewhere you don’t want to be. There are all these emotions that come in waves, they go around and around and never stop. It’s like a tire spinning in mud.”

Aemond considers you for a long time before he speaks. “I think you’re doing a good job. Cadi seems happy. She’s…uh…spirited. But happy.”

“She’s a little wild, but that’s my fault. We grew up together. I didn’t draw many lines, and now it’s too late. And she’s getting old enough to notice things she didn’t see before. Most of her friends’ parents are still married. They might not be in love, but she doesn’t understand that part yet. What she understands is that we’re broke and her dad lives in a different house, and I’m the one who made that happen.”

“You’re doing a good job,” Aemond insists. He starts to reach across the table for your hands, then stops, reconsiders, grabs his duffle bag that’s squeezed next to him in the booth instead. He unzips the small pocket on the side and pulls out a toothbrush, a travel-sized tube of Crest, and a miniature bottle of Listermint. “I’m going to go brush my teeth in the bathroom, and then I’m going to fuck you in the back of my car. Okay?”

Your smile has returned. The magic has too. “Okay. You don’t want dessert?”

“I don’t need tiramisu. I already have a Cupcake. Unless…do you want tiramisu…?”

“No, I don’t like coffee.”

“I think they have other things too, cannoli, cheesecake…”

“Aemond,” you say. “I want to leave now.”

“Got it.” He leaves $30 for the waitress on the table—he always pays with cash, you notice—and bolts for the bathroom. Fortunately, you’d had the same thought; shortly before Aemond arrived at the house two hours ago, you’d packed your pink toothbrush and a tube of Ultra Brite in your Valerie Barad rainbow purse…just in case. By the time you get back to the table, Aemond is waiting and looking uncharacteristically anxious: biting his lower lip, clasping his hands together behind his back. He’s relieved when he spots you. “I thought you might have ditched me.”

“What, and walked 25 miles home?”

“Forget it. Let’s go.” And he shoves his hands into the pockets of his Marlboro jacket before he can reveal any more of himself with them.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re flying down Route 70 with all the windows down, warm twilight wind flooding through the gaps between your fingers, centuries-old southern live oaks and flowering dogwoods passing by in a blur, an Eddie Money tape in the Audi Quattro’s cassette deck. Under the bridges you cross, brackish bayou water ripples lazily, thick with cypress trees, duckweed, spider lilies, salvinia, wading great egrets and lurking alligators. The seats are tan leather and spotless. Aemond rests a palm on your bare thigh, just below the hem of your shorts. His blonde hair whips in the breeze. From the passenger seat, you can only see the right side of his face, the unscarred side. It’s almost like he’s whole again. He puffs on a Marlboro Red, smoke escaping through the open windows, tobacco and tar and nicotine, chemicals and earth.

“We better stop before we get into Assumption Parish,” you tease. “You don’t want one of Willis’ deputies to stumble upon us.”

But Aemond is particular; he wants the perfect spot. Just a mile before Ascension Parish gives way to Assumption, he finds an overgrown dirt pull-off used for fishing. He parks the Quattro just out of sight of the highway, rolls up the automatic windows, blasts the icy air conditioning.

“Get in the back,” he orders, unclicking his seatbelt. The intro of Take Me Home Tonight thunders through the speakers. You obey, climbing into the (very not-spacious) back seat. Just seconds later, Aemond follows.

You giggle when he pulls you into his lap to straddle him. As you toss away his Marlboro jacket and unbutton his shirt, Aemond yanks off your orange tank top, unhooks your bra, accidentally breaks the tab of the zipper off your white denim shorts with his strong, frantic hands. He needs you; he needs you all the time, everywhere, and he’ll never get enough. He’s kissing you deeply, roughly, nipping at your lips and tongue, breathing his smoke into you. His fingers slip into your shorts and under the silk that you bought for him, blue like his eyes, blue like the sky before heavy rain. You’re moaning, grinding, impatient; he’s helping you shimmy out of your shorts, he’s tugging down his jeans. And now you realize that he wants you to stay on top. “Aemond, no, I’m not good at it…”

“Shut up. You’re good at everything.”

That’s a lie, you know it is; still, Aemond makes you believe it. He grabs your hips and shows you exactly how to move them, and soon the rhythm feels effortless, soon you are wet and relaxed enough for him. At the last minute, he gets a condom from the pocket of his jeans, rips it open, and rolls it on. And again, you are struck by a strange but unmistakable disappointment that you cannot have all of him, that you cannot experience what it’s like to be as close to him as humanly possible, this man that you hardly know, this body that unleashes ecstasy in yours.

It’s quick: your arms linked around the back of his neck, Aemond kissing your throat and the slope of your jaw, his hands and murmurs guiding you, delicious fullness and friction. You’re amazed when he comes—I made that happen?? I did that??—and a tidal wave of extraordinary pride, lust, power surges through you. Aemond helps you finish with his fingers, only a few vigorous strokes, and then he drags you down onto the Quattro’s back seat with him.

“Careful,” you say as you lie on top of Aemond’s chest, both of you breathless and slick with sweat, goosebumps springing up in the chill of the air conditioning. You’re all tangled up in each other; there’s no room to get away. “You’re not going to be able to get rid of me.”

“I’ll accept the risk.” The last rays of sunlight fall across his damp skin, turning him to amber, tiger’s eye, gold. “What happened when you had Cadi?”

You turn your face to look at him. “Huh?”

“You said you were unconscious for a few days after she was born.”

“I told you that?”

“Yeah. The first night I came over. And you’ve been on the pill ever since. You never wanted more kids?”

“No,” you say quietly. “No, I didn’t. I still don’t.”

“So something happened.”

“It’s not a cute story. It’s not sexy.”

“I’ve surmised that.” Another word you don’t know.

“I don’t really ever talk about it.”

“Because you don’t want to, or because people don’t ask?”

You’re amazed by how much he sees, like you’re a clean window, like your skin and skull are made of glass. “My water broke and I went into labor, but I wasn’t progressing fast enough,” you tell Aemond. “I mean, the nurses told me I wasn’t progressing. I didn’t really understand what that meant. It felt like something was happening. There was a lot of pain and pressure, and it was intense, definitely, but it was bearable, I still felt like myself. I was actually really proud of how calm I was. But I guess it wasn’t enough. So the doctor started me on something called Pitocin, and then the contractions weren’t bearable anymore. They were…I can’t even describe it. It was like this bone-breaking twisting, but also sharpness, razor sharpness. I imagined knots of barbed wire. It’s the only thing I could compare it to. And I wasn’t in control anymore. I wasn’t myself at all. I was this animal being trapped, being tortured, and there was no break between the contractions, they happened over and over and over again, one right after the other, and it went on for hours. I kept telling everyone that I couldn’t do it. I needed an epidural, laughing gas, pills, anything. I was begging them to knock me out. I was trying to rip the IV with the Pitocin out of my hand. But no one listened. The nurses acted like I was being dramatic. Women have babies every single day all over the world, why couldn’t I just shut up and deal with it? My mom was around, but she had pretty straightforward births, and I don’t think she could comprehend what it was like. Willis told me I was doing a good job. That’s all he could say: Good job, sugar, you’re doin’ just fine, sugar. But I didn’t want mindless encouragement. I wanted somebody to help me. I thought I was dying.”

Aemond’s hand smooths your hair. He’s watching you closely.

“When Cadi…when she was finally born, I wasn’t excited to hold her. I didn’t even care. I was just relieved the pain wasn’t so bad anymore. I told my mom to take her. I could hear the baby crying, and I remember thinking: Who is that? I almost died for that? I felt nothing for her, absolutely nothing. And then I heard…it sounded like someone had turned a sink on, because there was water running. But then the nurses were yelling and the doctor rushed back into the room. I was hemorrhaging, and it wasn’t water that I’d heard, it was blood, my blood, gushing all over the floor. I passed out and I needed transfusions and I woke up three days later. The very first thing a nurse said was that she was so happy to tell me that they’d been able to stop the bleeding without doing a hysterectomy, so I’d be able to have more children. Can you believe that? It was like I didn’t exist. I was just a vessel. As if I wanted to go through that again. No, never, no thank you. I got attached to Cadi, but it took months. Obviously, now I love her. But I was empty for a long time. Just empty, and sad, and in pain, and hopeless.”

“And your useless fucking husband named the baby you almost bled to death having.”

“He didn’t mean for it to be hurtful,” you say. “He thought he was helping. And it’s a hell of a name, I have to admit it. Arcadia Dove, like a Star Wars character or a superhero. It suits her.”

But still: Aemond shakes his head, incredulous, outraged on behalf of your long-gone teenage self. “When you found out you were pregnant, did you ever consider…you know…not having it?”

You give him a small, guilty smirk. What kind of mother could admit this? “Yeah. Yeah, I did. That was my plan, actually. I called a clinic in New Orleans and made an appointment. Cleared out every penny of my savings to pay for it. Cheaper than a life sentence, right? Amir offered to go with me, but neither of us had a car or a license, and I could never let my mom know. So I asked Willis.”

“And he wouldn’t drive you.”

Worse. “He told me that if I went, I’d be a murderer.”

Aemond jolts upright, furious. “He actually said that to you?”

“Aemond—”

“No, hold on, he actually said that?! He said that you could drop out of high school, you could throw all your dreams out the window, you could become a mum at fucking seventeen years old and marry some guy you barely knew, and if you wanted a way out that would make you a murderer?!”

You offer weakly: “Willis is really, really Catholic. A lot of people down here are, and—”

“He’s a coward, that’s what he is. He was willing to sacrifice your future to soothe his conscience. His life didn’t change. Yours did.”

“I love Cadi. I don’t regret her.”

“But you should have had a choice.”

You study Aemond: his glinting right eye, the deep stormy furrows in his brow. “Why are you so angry?”

“Because you deserved better. You could have been something more.”

Something more? Something more? “I’m not horrified by how I’ve turned out, Aemond. I made the best of my circumstances. I have a job I enjoy, I keep a roof over our heads, I have people to live for.”

“You deserved better,” Aemond repeats, soft and low.

“So did you.” You touch your palm to his scarred cheek and ask in a whisper: “What happened? Who hurt you?”

“Stop,” Aemond says, flinching away from your hand. And that’s the safe word; you have to listen.

~~~~~~~~~~

At home, Cadi and Amir are chatting at the kitchen counter with a late-night snack of apple dumplings, warmed in the microwave, and Breyer’s vanilla ice cream. Blue Bell is cheaper, but Breyer’s tastes real; it’s one of the few things you won’t compromise on.

“Mom, guess how many levels I beat in Super Mario Bros.!” Cadi doesn’t notice that your tank top isn’t quite covering the brutalized zipper of your shorts. Amir definitely does notice; he mouths to you: Baby Jesus is so sad.

“Um, I don’t know…how many levels does it have?”

“Thirty-two,” Aemond informs you.

“Seven?” you say.

“Try ten!” Cadi grins triumphantly.

“Radical! Amazing!”

Aemond applauds. “No way! You’re a prodigy!” You don’t have to ask if he wants to stay. He scoops two apple dumplings into the same bowl and then pops open the microwave, like he lives here too. “How long should I heat these up?”

“About 45 seconds,” Amir says. He yawns and puts his dishes in the sink.

“Thanks again for entertaining Cadi.” You give him a tired, repentant smile. “I would tell you to take tomorrow off, but we both know that’s not an option. I’m going to set my alarm for 3:00 a.m.”

“I myself will most certainly not be awake at 3:00 a.m. But I’ll try to get here by 7:00.” Amir gives Cadi a hug that she pretends not to appreciate. “Goodnight, slayer of Bowsers.” Then he waves to Aemond as he breezes out of the kitchen. “Goodnight, destroyer of zippers.”

Aemond covers his mouth to keep from laughing. “Cheers, Amir.” He brings the bowl of apple dumplings from the microwave to the counter, adds several heaping mounds of vanilla ice cream and two spoons, and slides it over so you can share. Outside, you hear Amir’s Ford Escort pull out of the gravel driveway. “You have a lot of baking to do, huh?”

“Oh my God, I completely forgot to tell you. You’ll never believe who showed up—”

“Mom, can we go shopping tomorrow?” Cadi asks, derailing your train of thought.

Cadi? Shopping? This is an unusual request. “Shopping for what?”

“For my riding boots,” Cadi says brightly as she finishes her apple dumpling, and you think, sinking in ways you can’t let her see: Oh fuck. Here’s the conversation I’ve been avoiding for weeks. “Michelle and Erica are both going to that horse camp in July. Breanna and Sam are going too. Kristen might even go, and she’s a total freakazoid! I can go, right? I’ll need boots, and a helmet, and I want to ride an Appaloosa. They have all kinds of horses, but Appaloosas are my favorite, and if they don’t let me ride one I’m going to go nuclear.”

“Honey, I don’t think it’s going to be possible this year.”

“But I have to go. Everyone else is going.”

“I tried, I really did. But I just can’t swing it right now. Next summer I’ll have more money saved up, hopefully, and then you can go to horse camp, and maybe we can even go to Biloxi for a week too—”

“I don’t care about Biloxi.” And now she’s lashing out, because she’s realizing the answer might really be no. Aemond is silently picking at the apple dumplings, looking between the two of you but not knowing what to say. “I care about going to horse camp when literally all of my friends get to—”

“Cadi, I’m so sorry, I really am. But sometimes things just don’t work out, and that’s okay, that’s a part of life. We’ll still have fun this summer.”

“I’m not going to have fun if I’m just stuck here at home all day!”

Stuck here with me, stuck here in the life I built for her. “Cadi, please—”

“I’ll give up my birthday presents,” she pleads, her eyes turning misty. “You can just not buy me anything for my birthday, or Christmas either, and you can use what you would have spent on that for—”

“I’m sorry,” you say gently, a hand on her little shoulder, her tiny breakable bones. “I wish I could give you what you want. I really, really do. I’m trying to make things better for us.”

“Can’t you ask Daddy for more money?”

And you remember what Willis said at the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office: Tell her if she grows her hair back out, maybe she can go next year. “Daddy wants to help too, I’ve already talked to him about it. We just can’t make it happen right now.”

“Daddy always says he’d have more money if he didn’t have to send you so much every month!” Cadi blurts out. Aemond is watching you, but you shake your head. He can’t say anything. It’s not his place. “That’s why I can’t go to horse camp, isn’t it? Because we don’t all live together?”

“No, Cadi, that’s not what this is about—”

“Erica’s parents live together and she gets to go! Michelle’s mom and dad are always taking vacations!”

“Every family is different,” you say, fighting to stay calm while your throat is closing up and the blood in your face is hot enough to scald.

“Sam’s mom just bought her riding boots and gloves!”

“I’m not your friends’ mothers, I’m sorry, I’m just not.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have kids if you can’t afford them!” Cadi screams, tears streaming from her bloodshot eyes, and then she storms off to her bedroom and slams the door.

You and Aemond are left alone in the midst of humming florescent lightbulbs, long-eared owl hoots, the ambient shrieks of cicadas. The apple dumplings and ice cream have dissolved into a soup. Your lips are trembling; a single blistering tear escapes down your cheek. You refuse to break down. You learned years ago that there is nothing to be gained from it. Aemond studies you, seeking and worried. You avoid his gaze. His hand reaches for yours, stops short, retreats to drum his fingers against the counter.

At last, Aemond says: “How much is the horse thing?”

��Too much. Way too much. It’s over $300, I won’t be able to make rent.”

He sighs; not a frustrated sigh, you think, but a sigh of incredulity, maybe even of pity, which is the last thing in the world that you want from him. Aemond takes his wallet from his jeans pocket, leafs through it, and counts out $400 in twenties and tens that he stacks on the countertop.

You are mortified, horrified. “Aemond, no—”

“Look, next time I see you, we need to talk. We need to talk about my situation, and your situation, and what we’re going to do going forward. And it’s…fuck, it’s, it’s complicated. You’ll see. But we have to get it sorted out, because this is…” He gestures to you, to him, to what you’re building between you like a bridge linking islands. “It’s different than what I expected it would be. And that’s a good thing, but…there’s just a lot we have to discuss.”

“Aemond, I can’t accept this much money from you.”

“The money doesn’t matter. $400? That’s nothing. The money’s not real to me. But it is real to you. So please just take it. And next time I see you we’ll…we’ll decide what happens next.”

It’s complicated, Aemond said. You’ll see. See what? How bad could it possibly be? “We can’t talk now?”

“No, I can’t do it now. I just can’t.”

He’s not just uneasy or distracted. He’s fucking scared. “You’re married,” you say.

“No. No wife, no kids. I swear to God.”

“No girlfriend either?”

“No.”

“You’re divorced.”

“No.” He combs his fingers through his short blonde hair, stares blankly at the wall behind you. “You’re free Saturday, right?”

“Yeah. I think Cadi will be with Willis all weekend, actually. He’s taking her fishing on Lake Verret. If Jade Dragon hasn’t blown it up by then. I’ll be busy with work Saturday morning and early afternoon, but after that I’ll be around.”

“I’ll come over around dusk, probably,” Aemond says, hands in his Marlboro jacket pockets, thoughts miles away. “I have something going on Saturday afternoon too.”

And he leaves before you can thank him for the stack of cash on the counter, or for any of the rest of what he’s given you.

[f1-unpopularopinions]

I already want this season to be done with. Yeah yeah Norris will lose the championship by less than 7 points and the fan base will be angry at Piastri for Hungary to which Piastri will react to about as nonchalantly as to the whole Alpine contract fiasco. Done and dusted.

I'm far more excited for next year because it is going to be absolute chaos. There's most likely gonna be at least 4 rookies (Bearman, Antonelli, Doohan and Lawson) with possibilities for even more depending on Audi and how badly the Redbull family is gonna implode. The regulations are changing in 2026 so no team is gonna give two flying fucks about next year's cars because they are so focused on 2026. Almost every team is in shambles already and it's gonna be even worse next year

The Redbull family right now has too many drivers but at this speed they aren't gonna have enough by the time the season ends. Riccardo and Perez just aren't performing, Verstappen is threatening retirement in every other interview and at this speed FIA is gonna issue Tsunoda a permanent race ban for swearing on the radio (/j). Meanwhile all their important personnel are jumping the ship while they still can.

Leclerc is gonna show Hamilton the ways of catholic guilt and Ferrari disasterclass and we are gonna have our next multi worldchampion failing to bring glory back to Maranello.

The Mclarens are gonna tear each other to pieces if they truly start back on equal footing and the car manages to perform.

Russell is stuck babysitting a teenager driving a fucking Mercedes while Wolff tries to court Verstappen right in front of his eyes.

Stroll is gonna drive around in a car with Newey influences and zero spacial awareness. Alonso's El Plan for his 3rd championship still doesn't work.

Gasly and Doohan are gonna make up half of Alpine's staff by themselves while the other half is striking again. The team's gonna have more owners than engineers.

Ocon is either punting Bearman off the track at every opportunity or teaching him to be the next 6-foot-something track terror.

Audi. I don't even know what's gonna happen with Audi. Either Hulkenberg is also stuck on babysitting duty in a car that barely moves or Bottas is telling him how to reconnect with nature during the 5 minute pit stops when the wheel nuts stop working again. Either way I feel like alcohol is gonna be involved.

Genuinely think that Williams guys are gonna be the happiest next year because the expectations are gonna be so low that getting to the points is pleasant surprise and neither of them need worry about their appendixes. Until of course one of them throws a house party that's too loud and pisses off the other because apparently Albon and Sainz live right next to each other in the same building.

Chaos I tell you. And I can't wait!

Send us your unpopular F1 opinions!

[myaudiq5]

Audi Q5 vs SQ5

It would not be an overstatement if we described these two machines as opposite ends of the same magnet. They might look the same in design or share similar interior styling, but the difference is immense where it matters the most; under the bonnet.

The Audi SQ5 was destined to be the performance version of the standard Q5 and it lives up to the hype. It is packed with a performance-tuned powertrain that produces loads of power, and is mated to a specially-designed transmission. To compliment the modifications installed in the business end of the SQ5, the other mechanical aspects of the vehicle have been upgraded to a similar level of exhilarating performance standards.

Let's find out which is better: Audi Q5 vs SQ5

[velvetyh]

⌜Everybody knows I'm a good girl, officer | E. Sohn⌝

꒰ PAIRING ꒱ Police officer!eric x fem!reader ꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ Meeting the police officer a few times and experiencing pent-up frustration at work can lead to something… exciting. ꒰ WORD COUNT ꒱ 3150 words (oops) ꒰ TW ꒱ 18+, car sex, a lot of cringe teasing and dirty talk, degrading praising pet names (good/pretty slut, etc), y/n calling eric “officer”, ass spanking, riding (lmk if I missed anything!) ꒰ NOTE ꒱ I am not dead (yet lol), I’m attempting to get over my blank page syndrome! I hope this will help… also an Audi RS3 is a super powerful, loud car (my dream car), just so you know 😉 ꒰ REQUESTED ꒱ no! (but tagging my lovely @shmooooo i hope it’s not too bad <3)

୧ ‑‑‑‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑

“Good morning, Officer,” you greeted with a smile as you got out of your vehicle parked not far from the police station to get to your work.

Honestly, working next to a police station had its benefits. Seeing handsome men in uniform was always a sight to see and knowing that they could be there in the snap of a finger in case of emergency reassured you.

“Morning, ma’am,” the officer answered after finishing talking to a colleague through a talkie-walkie, giving you a polite nod and a brief smile. You keep walking until you hear the same voice calling out for you.

“Ma’am, can I ask you a question?” “Sure,” you turned around, looking in the man's eyes. He maintained eye contact for a few seconds before clearing his throat, shoving his hand into his uniform pocket. “You are the owner of this car, correct?” he asked as he pointed at your black Audi RS3, and you nodded, staring up at him. “Yes, why?” “It’s not the first time that I see it poorly parked, you should be careful. It might disturb the traffic and cause an accident, or someone could accidentally smash it if they’re not paying enough attention,” you obediently nodded again, offering him your best smile. “I promise to be careful next time. Have a good day, Officer!”

However next morning, you parked yourself the same way you did yesterday, the same police officer standing in front of the station. You got out of your car as if it were nothing, but you immediately bumped against a broad chest, recognising the same masculine fragrance as yesterday.

“Ma’am? What did I tell you yesterday? Your back tyres aren’t among the lines, and they’re almost hindering the traffic. Next time I catch you doing this I’m giving you a fine, understood?” “Yes, Officer Sohn,” you mumbled as his name tag was almost hitting your nose at your proximity. “Good.” You stared up at him for a few seconds and apologised again before he stepped aside, nodding again before walking away, going back to his spot in front of the police station.

You were doing this on purpose because he was hot, and the uniform didn’t help at all. You wanted to see how long you could play dumb until it went too far, but what could happen aside from a fine? Maybe something amazing? you considered.

The next morning, you weren’t in the mood to play. You had started your day pretty badly, the waitress at the Starbucks drive-through had accidentally spilt your beverage on your brand-new blouse as she handed you your drink, not only ruining the fabric but also your mood and your good hopes of having a good day. And after being stuck in traffic for god knows how long, you finally made it to your workplace.

“Ma’am, this time-“ “Yes, Officer, I know that I’m not parked inside the lines, I know. Have you seen the side of your parking spaces and my car? It just won’t fit, and I just can’t take public transport from where I live, it’s way too far from my workplace to function properly the rest of the day. So just give me a fine so I can just move on from this shitty day,” you snapped at the officer, whose eyes opened widely, and he took a step back, giving you space.

You sighed in annoyance and stared up at him, seeing him keeping a relaxed attitude somehow managed to calm you down a bit, which was something unexplainable.

“Rough morning?” he calmly asked, hand going to his talkie-walkie to quickly dismiss it as his colleague's voice started buzzing from it. “Yes, this morning's rough. I just want to go home to forget about everything,” you annoyingly said while looking at the traffic jam happening in front of you, the police officer looking at you with his hands on his hips. “Okay, this is the last time I let you run away with this, but I’m being very indulgent. But tomorrow when you arrive, you better park well, understood?” “Yes,” you sighed before walking inside the building without sparing a glance at the man you left on the sidewalk.

Your day didn’t get better despite praying whatever God to help you. As soon as you stepped foot in the building, the big boss saw you with your stained top and had to share his opinion in front of everyone, telling your manager that she wasn’t doing a great job at teaching her employees the dress code.

So, of course, when the CEO was out of sight, she took all her anger on you, and it exploded in a big fight in the open space. All the precedent events had already angered you, but this was just the cherry on top. You almost said things that could have gotten you fired, and you were frustrated when she took her afternoon off for “personal issues”, leaving you to take care of all her daily assignments alone.

When you got out of work, you were mad at the world, ready to punch someone and yell out your frustration. You cursed the police officer under your breath as you saw a fine tucked in between your windscreen wipers as you approached your car, quickly entering it after ripping the paper from the wiper. You fastened the seatbelt and manoeuvred out of your parking space, flooring the accelerator pedal as the motor roared in the street you were in, drawing attention to you, but you couldn't care less. It felt like a bit of your frustration was gone by speeding, but it was too good to be true.

Going over the speed limit in front of the police station was not your smartest move. You whined, noticing blue and red lights in your rear-view mirrors when you entered the highway, pulling over as soon as possible, trying not to sink further into your crimes and misery. You felt like crying as you turned off the engine and pulled out your driving license alongside your car registration documents, rolling down the window as someone knocked on it.

“Ma’am, what a surprise! Seems like you and I see each other a lot those days,” He said as you wordlessly handed him your documents, looking straight ahead of you, jaw clenched to not break down in utter anger and despair in front of him.

He cleared his throat, “Y/N Y/L/N, what a pretty name. It’s such a shame that we didn’t meet in other circumstances, but with your bad parking, going over the speed limit on the national road and the highway, I’m afraid you might lose this,” he said, brandishing your driving license between his fingers.

“You know, Officer, I’m starting to think that you’re stalking me. I always seem to coincidentally land on you when I do something wrong,” you pettily spat, getting aggressive as you were about your lose your only way to go to work.

“Trust me, ma'am, you can call yourself lucky not to have met my superior yet. Captain Lee is not as lenient as I am. He’d give you a fine for everything that I’ve just stated, plus the non-validity of your license, for example. It expired a week ago.” He stated, opening your car door and taking your car keys, your eyes widening.

“Fuck, I forgot to make an appointment for this shit,” you rested your head against the headrest behind you and took your purse, getting out of your vehicle. "I'm going to need you to watch your language, ma'am," he smirked, as you huffed, slamming the car door behind you.

His hand hovered above your lower back, and he opened the tinted back door of the police car. As you sat down, you gave the officer puppy eyes but he chuckled and shook his head side to side, lifting the portable tray at the back of his seat to fill out a form.

“That won’t work with me, ma’am, even if it looks very tempting to not worsen your day even more.” You just shrug at his words, waiting for him to be done writing down all your infractions and give you that damn fine to go home. “It’s okay to be a bad girl sometimes though, it helps to get back on the right track,” he said as if he was chit-chatting with a friend about the most normal topic, his pen scribbling some details and ticking some cases on the paper. A smirk tugged on his lips as he saw your eyes widen in shock out of the corner of his eyes, not expecting the conversation to take this turn.

You gulped and folded your legs on top of the other, the tip of your heel almost touching his thigh, “what makes you say I’m a bad girl? I’m just a good girl with bad days, there’s a slight nuance,” you said, your foot eventually grazing against his leg.

He was quick to drop his pen and seized your bare calf, brown eyes boring into yours.

“Are you sure you want to play that game, Miss Y/L/N?” he asks, his voice getting deeper as you innocently smirked. “What game, Officer?” you answered back, the man standing in front of you. “Don’t try to act innocent. You and I both know exactly what you’re doing,” he grunted, and you moved your hair out of your eyes. “And? Do you like it?” you neared his face with yours with a smirk, your breaths mixing at your proximity. “Way more than I want to admit,” he grinned before grabbing the back of your neck to pull you in a languish kiss, your legs automatically wrapping around him. He pushed you backwards and closed the door behind him in a swift tug, his weight forcing you to lie down across the back seats.

The kiss was messy yet full of lust, your hand going in his hair to throw his cap and tug on the dark strands, a low grunt erupting from the back of his throat. When you pulled away out of breath, you brought your thumb to his lips to clean the stains of your lipstick on them, finding him even hotter at the sight of his reddened lips and lazy, lustful eyes.

He doesn’t waste a second and dives in your neck, leaving burning hickeys on your sensitive skin as he made his way down to your breasts.

He drew your blouse down, a few buttons ripping at his strength, and you gasped, undoing the buttons of his uniform as quickly as you could. He chuckled at your hastiness, eyes drawn to your white lacey bra.

“As sexy as it looks on you, I need that off,” he mumbled and you rested on your elbows, allowing you to reach behind you and unclasp your item of lingerie, throwing it at his face with a giggle.

“Oh god,” you mumbled as he immediately sucked on your breast, his free hand cupping your boob and flickering your other nipple.

“I know I’m a god, but today is Officer Sohn for you. Does that feel good darling?” he asked while trailing hot kisses down the valley of your breasts. You hummed in satisfaction, stroking his hair away from his face.

“So good, Officer,” you barely had to mutter before getting flipped on your stomach. You smirked as the police officer harshly spanked you before sitting in the middle seat, the action making you whimper as your bare nipples grazed against the rough leather seats.

He bunched up your pencil skirt up to your waist and sighed in pleasure as he discovered the matching panties, feeling the warm fabric and the plush skin of your ass. He gave it a spank, on the other cheek this time, followed by another, and another, making you whisper ‘yes Officer’ after each spank, mentioning all the laws you’ve broken, giving you a taste of how important they were with the intensity of his spank. It burnt too good, you couldn’t help getting wet at his ministrations.

“You like getting your little ass spanked, don’t you? I was right about you being a bad girl, you were just too shy and proud to admit it,” he whispered in your ear as one of his hands soothed the imprints of his palm on your ass cheeks, the other teasing and poking your already dripping hole through your ruined panties.

“O-Officer, more please,” you begged and whined, your core clenching at his teasing fingertip.

“You needy slut, look at how wet your pretty cunt is for me,” he smacked your ass harshly as those words escaped from his pretty lips, the sting slowly turning into pleasure making your eyes roll at the back of your head and moan.

His hands on your sides, he hoisted you on his lap while his mouth roamed around your neck, creating a chain of hickeys from one collarbone to the other.

He helped you grind your clothed core against the rough fabric of his uniform, looking up at you as your jaw fell agape, a fire starting in the pit of your stomach. Looking down, you teasingly smiled, angling yourself just right for your core to rub against the grip of his gun.

“Don’t play this game, pretty slut, you don’t know what I’m capable of,” he smirked as he undid his belt, soon helped by you, slipping your hand in his boxers to give his hard shaft slow, precise strokes.

"You're so hard, Officer," his head rolled back at your words, watching your spit drop from your pretty lips to his angry tip, a lust-laced smile decorating your lips turning into a moan as you aligned his cock with your entrance.

He wasn’t the thickest guy you’ve had sex with, but for sure was he the longest. Once he bottomed out inside you, he felt like he was poking your stomach, reaching so deep inside you that you could almost cum at how full you felt.

“Oh my, Y/N, you feel so good,” he mumbled, and you started rocking your hips against his, your clit getting friction thanks to the underwear he kept on.

“Oh you call me Y/N now-ngh!” you teased but immediately squealed as he slapped one of your breasts, the shock sending electricity throughout your entire body.

"Shut up and ride me like the good slut you are."

The car started rocking side to side as his hands were on your hips, having the upper hand on the tempo. He felt divine, and the adrenaline of doing it on the side of the road with someone from the authorities had you more sensitive than usual. He could feel you clench hard around his cock, but kept a steady rhythm, slightly ignoring your cries of pleasure getting louder and louder each second passing by.

"You're so fucking tight," he grunted before smacking your ass, the pleasure making you lurch forward in a yelp.

You looked so pretty on top of him, face scrunched in pleasure as your boobs bounced beautifully right in his face, your hands desperately trying to hold onto something as you couldn’t stop whispering his rank, which turned him on and fuelled his ego to the max.

He pulled you down by the back of your neck in a kiss, muting both of your moans and whines of pleasure as his dick was deliciously grazing against your tight walls, hitting the right spots at each thrust.

“Oh god, I’m cumming, fuck, Officer, shit, shit, shit, just like that! Shit!” you yelled as you collapsed on top of him because of the intensity of your orgasm, thighs shaking as he was still sharply thrusting his cock inside your core, helping you ride your high as you cried and shook in overstimulation.

Repeatedly clenching hard around him, your actions brought him right in front of his orgasm, low moans increasing in volume as he was so close to reaching his high.

“A-ah, fuck darling, get off!” he grunted as you collapsed on the seat next to him, just in time to let his seeds spurt out and land on your stomach in a chain of low grunts of your name, his fist pumping his shaft to empty himself fully on your body.

As you were catching your breath, head resting against the inner part of the door, the young officer softly smiled at you in post-coital bliss, bending himself to come and kiss your knees up to your inner thigh, his tongue giving a few licks to your slit as your thighs started trembling in overstimulation.

“I can’t let your juices stain the seats, even if I really want to,” he smirked as his tongue ran over his lips, tasting bits of yourself.

He got out a pack of tissues from the front seat and gently cleaned up his cum off your body, an apologetic look on his face as he didn’t have anything softer to remove his mess from your body.

You thanked him anyway and you both started to get dressed again, closing your blazer fully as your blouse was ruined. As you were about to reach for your panties, the officer was quick to catch them and shove them in his pants pocket.

“Those are coming home with me,” he smirked, and you rolled your eyes, tugging your pencil skirt down to hide your clammy core with a scoff. “You perv. You better buy me another pair, then. And another blouse,” you said as he fumbled with something behind his neck. "You really never learn. Calling me a perv is insulting behaviour towards an officer and could get you arrested and fined, you know that?" he opened your palm with a smirk and dropped something metallic inside, only to find his military necklace with his name engraved on it.

Eric Sohn.

“I know," your voice trailed as your eyes lingered on his torso as he was buttoning his shirt up, your arrogance making him shake his head. "So I’ll see you around?” you questioned with a smile and Eric was quick to kiss your neck as an answer, licking and sucking on the sweaty skin to tease you more. “If you’re free, we can go on a lunch date on Friday afternoon. Hopefully, you’ll be a good girl in the meantime,” he chuckled, and you pressed your lips on his, tongues dancing together. “I can’t promise you anything Officer, but I’ll try my best.”

Liar.

You exited the car like it was a normal thing and went back to yours, still in a trance and a bit of shock at what just happened.

One thing that you were sure of was that you were going to take your Friday afternoon off, no matter what your manager had to say.

Because with the teasing look Eric gave you, what you’ve just experienced was the starter.

[isawthesainz]

F1 2024 Summer Break Recap

A definitely-not-complete round up of the summer break drama

Monday 29th July 2024

Carlos Sainz announces that he will be joining Williams from 2025 onwards on a multi-year contract. Alongside teammate Alex Albon, this will be the first appendix-less team in F1 history

Wednesday 31st July 2024

Alpine announces that Oliver Oakes will join as the new Team Principal after the summer break. The current Hitech Grand Prix Team Principal will move from his duties in F2 and F3 to replace Bruno Famin at Alpine

Motorsport Italy reports that Jack Doohan will become Pierre Gasly’s teammate in 2025, and that Alpine will make an official announcement in the coming days

Thursday 1st August 2024

It is announced that Red Bull Sporting director Jonathan Wheatley will leave the team to become Team Principle of the Audi F1 project

Friday 2nd August 2024

It is reported that Mattia Binotto is considering 19-year-old F2 rookie Gabriel Bortoleto as a candidate to join Sauber next year

Tuesday 6th August 2024

It is reported that Adrian Newey has signed a four-year deal with Aston Martin, worth $100 million, and is expected to be announced in September

Wednesday 7th August 2024

It is reported that Aston Martin are looking to sign Max Verstappen for 2026 as Adrian Newey is set to join the team

Thursday 8th August 2024

Autosprint, an Italian publication, reports that Andrea Kimi Antonelli will be confirmed as Lewis Hamilton’s replacement at Mercedes for 2025 at Monza

It is announced that F1 will hold talks with Rwanda next month regarding a possible Grand Prix on a permanent track

F1 owners Liberty Media is to be investigated by the United States Department of Justice following its handling of Andretti's now-rejected application to join the F1 grid. The American corporation has been informed of an antitrust investigation by the United States Government, specifically the Department of Justice, into its handling of Andretti's application to join the F1 championship

It is announced that an appeal of the verdict delivered to Christian Horner following an internal investigation earlier this year has been dismissed

Saturday 10th August 2024

Helmut Marko reveals that there is an escape clause in Carlos Sainz’s contract with Williams, which will allow him to leave if he receives an offer from a higher placed team

Sunday 11th August 2024

Oscar Piastri reveals he completed the last two races of the first half of the season with a broken rib

Tuesday 13th August 2024

Valtteri Bottas posts that he is on a ‘secret mission’. The photo on Instagram shows him sitting in front of an Audi R8 with his race number 77 on it. Could he be joining Audi in 2026 as Nico Hulkenberg’s teammate?

Thursday 15th August 2025

Peter Bayer reports that’s Yuki Tsunoda will be considered for a Red Bull seat next season if he continues to perform well

Saturday 17th August 2024

It is reported that Gabriel Bortoleto is a serious contender for the second seat at Audi in 2025 alongside Nico Hulkenberg. Fernando Alonso visited the Sauber motorhome during the Belgian GP weekend - Gabriel is signed to Fernando's A14 Management agency

Thursday 22nd August 2024

Helmut Marko says that Liam Lawson will be in one of the Red Bull or VCARB cars new season

[dayurno]

california traffic having to share the road with luxury car owners and an overall spiteful personality would cause jean to develop intense earth-shattering road rage i need to see him yelling in french like a maniac at someone who cut off his shitty 1994 toyota with their shiny audi

[inchidentally]

can you do one of your gossip girl posts about last night 🙏

fglsafggf I am so not proud to say that yes I can

dw tho I'm not going to make these a habit it's just bc all the gossip was fun and innocent and the club is literally a place to go and take videos and pictures

side note in case anyone rbs - tumblr has started removing the cut so you have to go back and rb from your dash or from my blog to keep it in place. I just say this for the flashing lights and strobes <3

so it's awkward to post these things when a lot of them link to private gossip pages on IG so I'll only leave credits on for stories who tagged the club and the one public gossip acc

ppl who were in photos/videos: Lando, Pierre and Kika, Max and Kelly and Oscar

rumored to be there but no evidence yet: Logan and Zhou

confirmed not there: Carlos and Charles

if it weren't for the person taking the video and IDing him to the gossip blog - and the telltale hairline and shoulders - I wouldn't have believed Oscar was there !! he went out with everyone last season after Abu Dhabi so it shouldn't have surprised me the way it did but considering how hard Lando intended to party it's a massive show of solidarity for Oscar to be there at all lasgfjlagfl

I can't tell who the guy in the white shirt with facial hair is but he was hanging out next to Lando for a while too so maybe the club owner idk

also I felt so bad for this man everyone thought was Carlos at first - calling him Temu Carlos etc ;__;

side note Carlos went out to dinner with Nico just the two of them (plus Rebecca and Egle) I only mention bc I'm assuming the Audi talks are getting critical ??

[brandycranby]

ce characters + whether your asian parents would like them and how to win them over 🥺😣🫶🏻💕🍵

based on unfortunately realistic intrusive thoughts i have while reading self-insert fics

steve: military? hm. desi peeps leave ur comments bc idk how desi parents feel but i know ALL the east asian and southeast asian parents and grandparents might have something to say about that. the US army has left its mark.. just saying... better highlight his better features such as his sensitive artistic nature!! wait. wait. not that either, no need for them to call him a bum at the dinner table.

just... have him win your mom over with his stunning future son-in-law adorableness and charming smile 😀

andy: lawyer. that's it- no, no it doesn't matter if your EA mom prefers flower boys and he's a little too bearded. lawyer. the desi parents are messaging the Whatsapp group chat, they're calling the fam back in the motherland. look at that beard. lawyer.

tall ✅ upper middle-class ✅ drives an audi ✅ divorced? he has you now.

ari: handsome... ok.. but also. military. hmm. non-religious/non-abrahamic religious peeps, your asian parents might give him a better reception. but um, "divorced?" "has a daughter??" "soldier la??" "he have steady income???" 👁️👄👁️

my super religious background peeps, im so sorry. maybe the part where he's Jewish will get lost in translation. um. that's a fight and a half at the dinner table, good luck 🥲 maybe just elope.

curtis: ... I MEAN IS IT THE APOCALYPSE?? if not, your dad would probably like him. a man's man. strong, silent, built like a brick wall and does whatever DIY project he points him towards when you visit. your mom will call him scary. i don't think that would change whether you're E/S/SEA, your mom is pulling you aside in the kitchen and asking if you're really sure about him.

let Curtis show his gentle side. yeah, he's tall and intimidating but he has a soft heart. tell your lil cousins and niblings to use him as a jungle gym

jake: see Andy above- no, EVEN MORE POWERFUL THAN ANDY. yeah, military veteran, yeah, he's a lil awkward. but. computer science. information technology. wifi. tvs, laptops, phones. your parents are going to turn him into their personal help line and you might have to put a stop to it but goddamn if they don't call him son the minute this convo happens:

"he's in cybersecurity"

"what is cyba-"

"... IT"

"OH EYE-TEE. EYE-TEE VERY GOOD"

ransom: he's rich. he wears L.L. Bean and probably has the Louis Vuitton travel duffle bag. ransom is the nicest dressed, actually fashionable, sleek, and nicest smelling compared to the rest of these bozos. your mom loves him already. your dad is on the fence but also, he's well off enough to take care of you.

don't... say that he writes. yes, he does write. but focus on the fact that he's connected to a big big publishing house. yes yes. if this is an au and he's in charge of Blood Like Wine. BUSINESS OWNER, TAKE THAT.

---

disclaimer, all asian parents different. my dad is a graphic designer/artsy (though idk if he'd want me to date an artist tbh...) if ur parents aren't represented feel free to reblog w ur thoughts 😌

[unofficialdigby]

AUGUST BIRTHDAYS

Note: Fireworks every Saturday Evening

August 1: Kid Cat the Jock Cat

August 2: Vladimir the Cranky Cub and Harvey the Island Owner and Campsite Manager (and stoner)

August 3: Benjamin the Lazy Dog and Tad the Jock Frog

August 4: Bones the Lazy Dog

August 5: Poppy the Normal Squirrel

August 6: Chester the Lazy Cub

August 7: Rory the Jock Lion and Boots the Jock Alligator

August 8: Bud the Jock Lion and Leif the wonderous plant-selling sloth

August 9: Soleil the Snooty Hamster

August 10: Cole the lazy rabbit

August 11: Gigi the Snooty Frog and Ace the jock bird

August 12: Gloria the snooty duck

August 13: Tabby the Peppy Cat

August 14: Rod the Jock Mouse and Leopold the Smug Lion

August 15: Wendy the Peppy Sheep

August 16: Nate the Lazy Bear and Leila the baby Kappa (Kapp'n's daughter!)

August 17: Stinky the Jock Cat

August 18: Rocco the Cranky Hippo and Tiansheng the Jock Monkey

August 19: Alice the Normal Koala and Tybalt the Jock Tiger

August 20: Lopez the Smug Deer

August 21: Wart Jr. the Cranky Frog

August 22: Rolf the Cranky Tiger

August 23: Nana the Normal Monkey and K.K. Slider the love of my life, my boyfriend, and famous musician.

August 24: Nan the Normal Goat (not at all confusing to have her birthday so close to Nana) and Jacob the Lazy Bird

August 25: Tipper the Snooty Cow

August 26: Rowan the Jock Tiger (who notably has a different pose to show he is 💅)

FISHING TOURNEY NORTH HEMISPHERE (Forgot to specify which hemisphere last month, sorry!)

August 27: Bangle the Peppy Tiger

August 28: Chrissy the Peppy Rabbit and Lloid the donation Gyroid!

August 29: Gruff the Cranky Goat

August 30: Hazel the Sisterly Squirrel (the only sisterly of August)

August 31: Audie the Peppy Wolf