#but i am bored so i wrote a lot...

[msbhagirathi]

A Tribute To ARRTI (FF by meera30) Part 1

Link to the OG story

You remember that scene from part 3 where both Khushi and AV were staying over NK's house at the weekend? The morning when Khushi woke up in a happy mood and subconsciously made two cups of tea? We were robbed off the many things that the author could have given us. Let's create something in that line. Aao. :)

“Stop.” She whispered as the moment froze and silently melted into her veins. Why? Why had she said the word? She didn’t want him to stop. She…Her throat clenched as she blinked and shifted from her place.

She scrunched up her eyes shut. Already frustrated of trying to avoid what she wanted so bad. She felt heat surrounding her senses and a warm breath fanning her face. He came closer to her if that was still possible.

He inched up his hands slowly towards her back and placed them on her back ever so lightly. He knew her state. He knew she was feeling conflicted. She was trying to fight the 'potential betrayal' that she could face again if she so happened to trust him again. But, the attraction was becoming as strong as powerful gusty winds, difficult to resist by each passing day.

He understood her turmoil because he too was in the same turmoil. Trying to figure out what exactly was going on with his heart nowadays.

He saw her eyes relaxing but remained closed. Her lips trembling ever so slightly. She looked so kissable at that moment. He could literally kill to kiss her at that moment. But she had whispered him to stop.

He had given her the options. And she had chosen to stop.

He closed his eyes, took off his glasses and placed his lips softly on her forehead.

I love you Khushi.

He gingerly pulled back a little to gauge her reaction. She looked so calm and peaceful.

He felt his eyes welling up with the intensity of emotions running inside him. He felt guilty for running away and never contacting her back ever again. He felt angry on himself. He felt pitiful for himself.

He could literally go down on his knees and join his hands to beg for her forgiveness.

And even then she would reject me and my apology.

He slipped in his glasses and slowly peeled himself out of her space and left the kitchen.

Khushi opened her eyes only to feel cold chilly air surrounding her devoid of the heat that had enveloped a few moments ago.

She instantly missed his presence.

His gaze.

On her.

The warmth.

She turned to the counter behind her only to find two mugs of tea innocently sitting on it, waiting to be sipped. Already in the brink of going down the room temperature.

She quickly picked up the mugs and went off towards the attic where he had spent the night.

She went up the staircase. Her steps slow and tentative. Confused as she was, by the un-seen part of Nishant Sir's beautiful house.

She knocked the door but no one answered. So she walked in.

The interiors were as beautifully furnished as the rest of the house had been.

Two single beds occupying the two extreme sides of the attic, covered with plush silk bed covers. Sets of three pillows arranged neatly on it. A miniature sized rocking chair placed somewhere in the middle of the room. A window being the highlight, the central part of the room, sunlight running in through it, with full galore. The roof above, bent to the sides, giving it a somewhat triangular shape. A carry bag resting on one of the beds indicating it's owner.

"Wow."

The only word she could manage to whisper out.

Someone behind her cleared their throat. She came back from the trance, she had slipped into. She started without a preamble.

"Hi. Listen I accidently made an extra cup of tea so I thought I could give it to my.. AV sir so please let him know when he comes back."

She quickly went up to the window and placed the cup securely at its edge.

When she turned back to leave, she saw her AV sir smiling back at her with his smile that had the potential to make her nervous and jittery irrespective of what age she was or had been; today or a decade back.

"I didn't know I was yours Khushi." he exclaimed.

"You never told me that you have such a strong sense of possessiveness towards me." he whispered walking towards her with that slow predative pace. His voice barely a rasp.

He was again standing as close to her as he had been a few moments ago in the kitchen.

At this point, Khushi was fighting tooth and nail to avoid looking at his lips.

Hey shivji why did it have to be him out of all the people in this whole damn house? Why do you hate me so much?

Clearing her throat, she averted her gaze and mumbled, "I was going to say my boss but then I thought it was better not to, so I said AV sir instead."

I so wish I could acknowledge the possessiveness I feel for you dammit. Fuck.

But Arnav Varun was on cloud nine. Even if it had been a moment of confusion and yet the universe had conspired for him to hear the words right from his lady-love say out loud to him.

He started walking towards her with some unknown kind of hunger. The desire still thrumming through his veins were yet to subside when universe once again conspired to throw him in front of her.

He kept taking ~oh-so-slow~ steps with that fixating gaze.

His gaze was making her nervous she started stepping back. One step at a time. Until there was no space left to step back. She was trying to avoid looking directly at him. At his eyes. Those honey brown sunrise-irises cutting through the invisible but ever-present lens of his rim-less glasses. Few strands of his hair falling down on his forehead from the side, making her want to run her fingers through them.

She was trying so hard to suppress the urge to do something. Anything.

Running her fingers through his soft and silky tresses.

Running away and out of this room, and perhaps out of Detroit itself.

Pull out his glasses and hold his face with both her hands.

Pushing him away from her and giving him an earful for violating her space twice in a row this morning.

Yank him out his t-shirt and run her fingers through the entire expanse of his torso and the angry gash that ran about the length of his arm.

Hey shivji! Yeh hum kya-

He looked at her face, eyes scrunched up shut, glasses slightly displaced upwards, lips trembling chanting something incoherent.

He swallowed on his own saliva. At that exact moment, he stood so close to her. He could see each and every fiber of her being at a microscopic accuracy.

Her scrunched up eyes and nose, her li-

I need to step away.

I need to stop.

Khushi has told me to stop.

Arnav, rukh jao.

He closed his eyes and commanded himself to step away-

Bas ek baar..

Jyada nahi kuch...

He opened his eyes only to find her looking at him with an ardent curiosity and something else he didn't want to name yet.

He bent down towards her slowly.

But she might have gotten some other idea as she again closed her eyes shut. A strange sense of anticipation overtook her whole being.

He slowly extended his arm to grab the mug that she had earlier placed. The tea having already become as cold as a chilled glass of water.

Koi baat nahi hum isse garam karke pilenge.

Isse kaise chhor sakte hain..

Yeh humare liye Khushi ne banaya tha.

Nevertheless, he picked up the mug and stepped back and walked away, having already understood the idea that she might have gotten when she saw him bending towards her.

Kamaal hai khud mana karne ke baad khud hi ekdum ready ho gayi.

Khushi aapne hume maar dalne ka faisla kar hi liya hai shayad.

A wistful smile appearing on his lips, he walked away with a heavy heart.

Khushi breathed a sigh of relief and disappointment.

SHIVJI! Hum aapse baat karna hi chhor denge. Aap humesha hume uss-

Stomping her feet on the floor, she humphf-ed and left the room to get ready for their departure.

When she came out of her room into the main hall she could hear music flowing out from the den. Toweling her still dripping hair she went down the staircase only to come face to face with the man who she could kill to avoid.

He was showered and dressed up in a beige turtle-neck, sleeves rolled up to his forearms (HEY SHIVJI.) dark blue jeans, with a pair of woolen flip-flops on either foot. Hair washed and gelled back neatly to perfection. The frame of his rimless glasses matching the color of his turtleneck.

She kept ogling at him until someone in the room cleared their throat. She looked away and found Nishant sir and Divya ma'am smiling at her sheepishly. The rest of the gang busy in setting up the instruments. She smiled back at them feigning innocence and settled herself on the couch.

Out of the corner of her eyes suddenly she saw AV moving around the den and picking up his guitar. He settled himself on the his favorite bar-stool and put his guitar on his lap gently.

Within a few seconds, the room was filled with music again and everyone else listened to it. The den earlier springing with music and chatter, surprisingly became as quiet as an examination hall.

"Chhupana bhi nahin aata

Chhupana bhi nahin aata

Jatana bhi nahin aata..

Hume tumse mohabbat hai

Batana bhi nahi aata

Chhupana bhi nahin aata

Jatana bhi nahin aata..

Hume tumse mohabbat hai

Batana bhi, nahi aata

Chhupana, bhi, nahin aata

Jatana, bhi, nahin aata..."

To say Khushi was shocked would be an understatement. Not because of the choice he had made but because he had sung the lines looking directly at her. With an un-flinching, un-wavering and un-disturbed gaze trained on her. Just her.

"Hatheli par tumhara naam,

Likhte hai, mitate hai,

Tumhi se pyaar, karte hai,

Tumhi se, hi kyon chupate hai

Tumhi se, hi kyon chupate hai

Juban pe baat hain lekin

Sunana hi nahin aata

Hume tumse

mohabbat hai

Batana bhi, nahi aata

Chhupana, bhi, nahin aata

Jatana, bhi, nahin aata.."

She saw a sad smile pass his face when he broke the eye-contact he was meticulously maintaining a few lines ago. As if he really had done..

No Khushi. Stop day dreaming. Aisa kuch nahi hai..

He is just singing a song. Bas. That's it.

His voice flinched a little this time. He kept looking somewhere down while singing.

"Chori chori

chupke chupke

Tumko dekha karte hai

Hey..Chori chori

chupke chupke

Tumko dekha karte hai

Haale dil sunane se

Na jane kyon darte hain

Na jane kyon darte hain

Kitna pagal dil hai mera

Manana bhi nahi aata

Hume tumse mohabbat hai

Batana bhi nahi aata

Chhupana, bhi nahin aata

Jatana, bhi, nahin aata

Chhupana bhi nahin aata

Jatana bhi nahin aata

Hume tumse mohabbat hai

Batana bhi nahi aata.."

As the next stanza came about a new energy singed through his stance. Slowly and gradually she realized that his cheeks were turning into a tint of pink.

She couldn't quite understand this set of incidents. Was he really in lo-

Did he really loved her?

Suddenly her phone's ringtone tore through the beautiful tranquility that the room had been surrounded with. She turned out its volume and quietly excused herself out of the den, unknown to a longing gaze by a certain someone as the song came to an end.

[Psst...psst idhar aao @arshifiesta this is my latest submission along with this whole damn blog that is, lol.]

[taffingspy]

RS3's story problems these past few years is a great example of "boring characters cannot carry a good plotline"

[polite-pandemonium]

I am just somehow OBSESSED with Takeru DRIVING. Like is he a bad driver? He speeds past the gang waiting outside of Daisuke's restaurant (or the restaurant where Daisuke works, whatever), so maybe? Is that his mom's car? Or is it his car? Why does he NEED a car? What is he doing that requires him to drive? Is it going to be a plot point in the movie? Is Takeru being a BAD DRIVER going to be a plot point? I need to know.

Ken and Miyako are also visibly startled when Takeru speeds past (Miyako JUMPS!!!!), while Iori and Hikari don't even flinch. What does that say about DYNAMIC?! Are Iori and Hikari more used to Takeru's (presumably bad) driving? That would make sense, no, cause they are (canonically???) closer with him? Just such a small interaction and I can interpret so much and draw so many conclusions!!! How fun!!!

There's just something really so fun about watching characters you've loved your whole life continue to grow - to see new details about them spring up, new traits, new things to add to canon. It's the most delightful thing about the Digimon Adventure franchise to me. Sure, the stories they have told over the last decade have mostly been all various shades of mediocre, but the character moments - goodness, the character moments just don't hit the same in any other media for me. It's so special to me.

ETA: WAIT, looking at the screencap, Iori looks slightly concerned. Only Hikari looks calm (though she does turn her whole body to look at the car once it stops). Does this mean HIKARI is the only one comfortable with his driving? Cause Hikari is closest to him? (I don't even think their closeness is something that is debatable - I feel like it is PRETTY CANON that they are closest with each other???????????)

HERE'S HOW TAKARI CAN STILL WIN.

[meownotgood]

under the influence is 80k words in total today...

[thedeadthree]

lila thoughts under the read more <3 🥀✨🌹🎸

lila getting with griffin / g reign and having their little thing in “secret” not only bc it’s what her parents did to each other to get back at the other for slights and arguments but also bc she wanted to not only get back at seven but also to be like “oo look at me i can pull griffin freaking reign i won teehee.” and then the clown catches real feelings for griffin and calls jazz near in tears bc she’s just like her mom 🥀✨🎸🤡 and using someone she loves to get back at someone who she loved may or may not have even loved (i think she did but loved more the idea ? it’s complicated!) but loved the IDEA of seven loving her? dear you know it everyone knows it you want to be loved so bad!!!!!! the sooner you admit that lila the sooner you’ll be much happier my love! so excited to see where things go for her ! and things for her and her beloved g!!!!!

(x) for the divider <3

[fortune-maiden]

I have done it! I have written ficlets for all 30 days of Sicktember! (only posted 7 of them but I wrote all 30! :D)

Over the course of the month, I've written:

25,343 words (8053 words in posted fic)

23 Complete ficlets

Ficlets in12 fandoms

Longest fic was Day 2's Four Hours at 1850 words

Shortest fic was at 508 words, tied between Days 12 & 27 (neither posted)

[kazz-brekker]

studying the history of the mongol empire in my silk roads class has made me newly angry about the very bad and stereotypical writing of the dothraki in asoiaf and i feel like i need to fix this by reading some good and well-researched books set in either historical mongolia or fantasy!mongolia. anyway if anyone has recommendations pls hit me up i am busy making a summer reading list.

[questionmarksys]

Here's what the jokes say, for screenreaders:

Joke one: How do you make a watermelon laugh? You just give it a little 'squeeze'!

Joke two: Why did the orange go to school? To improve its juice-knowledge!

Joke four: I kept trying to figure out how to make the pun "sole man" work, but it just wasn't my forte.

Joke five: What do you call two thieves walking through a warehouse full of shoes? A HEELING PROCESS

Joke six: Why did the artist take up gardening? He wanted to brush up on his still-life skills.

Joke seven: Why are bicycles always so calm? Because they're always in a relaxed state of mind

Post script from image ID writer: I have never used a screenreader, so I don't know what extra bits I should add to make it clear what is happening. Improvement tips are appreciated.

so if you google "__ puns" you mostly get a bunch of AI websites as the top results, and i am kind of fascinated by them, because they read exactly like the kind of jokes little kids tell when they have recently learned about the concept of Humour but they're too young to understand why things are funny:

great job everyone let's hit the showers

[iamnotlookingidonotseeit]

rks what happened to u bby...

[oatmealaddiction]

Okay but the weirdest thing about the whole "Brotherhood is better you should skip 03" discourse that's become commonplace now, it sort of forgets the world Brotherhood came out in and why you should watch the original Fullmetal Alchemist. When Brotherhood came out, the original Fullmetal Alchemist was one of the most beloved and most watched animes of all time. Brotherhood assumes you the audience have already seen it because of course you have, everyone has seen it, so it skips important information and speeds the story up because it doesn't want to bore you with things you already know. Have you ever wondered "hey why does the first episode of Brotherhood kind of suck, and why am I being introduced to like 50 new characters, and why are they acting like I know what the hell an alchemist is?" It's because Brotherhood thinks you've seen 03.

The first 7 or so episodes of Brotherhood constitute dozens of chapters in the manga, and the first 25 or so episodes of the original Fullmetal Alchemist. The Nina Tucker episode in Brotherhood, in FMA 03 takes up nearly three episodes. Yoki gets a backstory in 03 and it's genuinely one of the best episodes and taken directly from the manga and Brotherhood glosses over it because: duh, you've already seen it. And so if you skip the original you miss out on dozens of really great character building episodes like Ed and Al meeting Hughes for the first time and getting to spend a whole episode helping him free a train from terrorists, or Ed and Roy having a duel that expands on the relationship they have, or episodes where the brothers just help out random people in towns before the major story gets going.

The original also paces itself quite a bit better than Brotherhood and is more in line with the mangas storytelling. In the manga we don't find out about The Gate until nearly two dozen chapters in, and the same goes for the original anime. Like, that's a twist reveal in those stories, and it's weird that the most watched series is the one where they tell you all about The Gate in the first two episodes because they assume you've already seen the original show.

What's more, people don't know that Hiromu Arakawa helped write for the anime while she was still in the middle of writing the manga, and as a result was inspired to write scenes in Brotherhood that the anime did first. That scene of Edward getting impaled by a falling beam? Directly inspired by a similar scene in the original anime. There's a lot of little instances of that and they're great when you can recognize parallels and things in Brotherhood that are direct references to the original anime, but people don't notice any of that anymore. Because the original anime is just an automatic skip these days, and it's a bummer because people don't realize what a giant it was back before Brotherhood was released. They treat it as *bad,* not realizing it was one of the most beloved anime of its time and the problems people take issue with have a lot more to do with personal taste than any kind of actual flaw in the writing. Brotherhood was never meant to dethrone it, and the original anime was always supposed to be part of the viewing experience which is why those first few episodes of Brotherhood are so fast paced. So like, please stop telling people Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 is a skip, or it's bad, or you don't need it because Brotherhood is better. Regardless if you think Brotherhood is better or not, the original wrote Brotherhood's check. It was huge, it was beloved, and Brotherhood is *banking* on the knowledge you've seen all of it and loved it. And trust me when I say there is so much to love about the original series. It's still my favorite branch of the FMA franchise, and it's worth your time, I promise you.

[docholligay]

Do you think authors sometimes don't realize how their, uh, interests creep into their writing? I'm talking about stuff like Robert Jordan's obvious femdom kink, or Anne Rice's preoccupation with inc*st and p*dophilia. Did their editors ever gently ask them if they've ever actually read what they've written?

Firstly, a reminder: This is not tiktok and we just say the words incest and pedophilia here.

Secondly, I don't know if I would call them 'interests' so much as fixations or even concerns. There are monstrous things that people think about, and I think writing is a place to engage with those monstrous things. It doesn't bother me that people engage with those things. I exist somewhere within the whump scale, and I would hope no one would think less of me just because sooner or later I like to rough a good character up a bit, you know? It's fun to torture characters, as a treat!

But, anyway, assuming this question isn't, "Do writers know they're gross when I think they are gross" which I'm going to take the kind road and assume it isn't, but is instead, "Do you think authors are aware of the things they constantly come back to?"

Sometimes. It can be jarring to read your own writing and realize that there are things you CLEARLY are preoccupied with. (mm, I like that word more than concerns). There are things you think about over and over, your run your mind over them and they keep working their way back in. I think this is true of most authors, when you read enough of them. Where you almost want to ask, "So...what's up with that?" or sometimes I read enough of someone's work that I have a PRETTY good idea what's up with that.

I've never read Robert Jordan and I don't intend to start (I think it would bore me this is not a moral stance) and I've really never read Rice's erotica. In erotica especially I think you have all the right in the world to get fucking weird about it! But so, when I was young I read the whole Vampire Chronicles series. I don't remember it perfectly, but there's plenty in it to reveal VERY plainly that Anne Rice has issues with God but deeply believes in God, and Anne Rice has a preoccupation with the idea of what should stay dead, and what it means to become. So, when i found out her daughter died at the age of six, before Rice wrote all of this, and she grew up very very Catholic' I said, 'yeah, that fucking checks out'.

Was Rice herself aware of how those things formed her writing? I think at a certain point probably yes. The character of Claudia is in every way too on the nose for her not to have SOME idea unless she was REAL REAL dense about her own inner workings. But, sometimes I know where something I write about comes from, that doesn't mean I'm interested in sharing it with the class. I would never ever fucking say, 'The reasons I seem to write so much of x as y is that z happened to me years ago' ahaha FUCK THAT NOISE. NYET. RIDE ON, COWBOY.

But I've known some people in fandom works who clearly have something going on and don't seem to realize it. Or they're very good at hiding it. Based on the people I'm talking about I would say it's more a lack of self-knowledge, and I don't even mean that unkindly. I have, in many ways, taken myself down to the studs and rebuilt it all, so I unfortunately am very aware of why I do and write the things I do most of the time. It's extremely annoying not to be able to blame something. I imagine it must be very freeing. But it ain't me, babe.

Anyway, a lot of words to say: Maybe! But that might not stop them from writing it, it might be a useful thing for them to engage with, and you can always just not read it.

Also, we don't censor words here.

[sebscore]

Forget the wags, could you write something about all the drivers having massive small crushes on reader and like there’s loads of edits on social media of them looking at her with heart eyes or just general ship edits or I mean ship fan fiction that they have to read in a team challenge or something..👀

LATE NIGHT TALKING

pairings: f1 drivers x driver!reader (indirectly)

warnings: swearing. drunk drivers. lando talking about a woman.

author’s note: I AM BACK FINALLY! also I wrote this in my notes app so pls be patient 😭😭 and this is probs the closest thing I’ll ever write to romance for this series lol

masterlist

“Out of all the drivers, who would you date?” Pierre drunkenly, almost-giggly, asked the question to his fellow colleagues.

Charles, George, Lando, Alex, Carlos and Yuki nervously laughed at the shit-faced Frenchman in front of them.

“Out of the entire grid?” Charles wanted clarification.

Pierre nodded. “Like hypothetical, if none of us had partners.” He quickly added.

A silence followed. The seven men thinking of all the possibilities.

“I mean…” Lando was the first one to speak up, every head in the hotel room shooting up at him,

“and this stays between us, right?” He followed up, needing reassurance from the others, who swiftly nodded their heads.

“If like, I was single, and I could only date one of the drivers… I would date Y/N.” He confessed.

His words were met with choruses of “same” and “me too”. A small, relieved sigh left Lando’s mouth at the others’ agreement.

“Yeah, you guys are cool and all, but Y/N’s the right answer.” George snickered, awkwardly avoiding eye-contact with the group.

Charles hummed. “I’m also choosing her, but you know, cause I’m not, uh…”

“For the other side of the street?” Alex laughed, taking a swig from his drink.

“Yeah.” The Monegasque’s dimples made an appearance, grinning towards the Williams driver.

“I think she would rather die than date one of you guys.” Carlos said, matter-of-fact.

Charles, George and Lando gave him an unimpressed look, despite knowing he was speaking nothing but the truth.

“She would date me!” The McLaren driver tried saving his own ego and pride.

“She would not.” The six others immediately shot him down.

Lando scoffed at that, sitting up more straight on the bed. “Why? It’s like textbook childhood friends to lovers, or whatever Lily said at that party once.”

“You kinda sound like you want to date her.” Pierre made eyes at him, causing the younger man to lightly push him away.

“I don’t! But I’m just a little offended that you guys don’t think I could, like, you know… bag her.”

“Bag her? She’s not a fucking product.” Alex judged his choice of words, a slight disgusted expression on his face.

“You know what I mean, Albon.” Lando brushed it off, not having bad intentions. “I just think she would be a nice girlfriend to have.”

“I think so too,” Charles agreed, “she’s a lot of fun.”

“I mean- you would never get bored with her.” George hesitantly added to the conversation, feeling a little uneasy about imaging himself with his colleague.

“True.” The seven of them chorused.

“Hey, maybe we should change the topic- it’s getting weird…” Carlos suggested. The atmosphere in Charles’ large hotel room having changed drastically ever since the question had been asked.

“Yeah, good idea.” Lando cleared his throat, uncomfortably shifting on the bed.

“I would choose Pierre to date.”

“Yeah, we know, Yuki.”

[gothcsz]

Worst Behavior | Secret Service Agent!Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | ~6.1k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Tired of living in the confines of being the President's daughter— you sneak out, only to be caught by the head of your security, Javier Peña.

Tags: smut, age gap (reader is in her early 20s/javier is in his 40s), mean!javi i think, hurt/no comfort?, unprotected p in v sex (be safe), creampie, oral (m receiving), cock worship (i need to suck this man off), fingering, degrading names (slut, whore), semi-public sex (a car in the alleyway because i'm incapable of writing bedroom sex scenes apparently), infidelity (javi is married to lorraine in this au), dubcon (reader is drunk throughout this), no use of y/n, no physical descriptions, if it gets redundant it's because i wrote this at 4 am, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: secret service counts as bodyguard, right? right! this is for @auteurdelabre's amazing trope off with the trope i chose being, well, bodyguard 🖤 i had a lot of fun writing this, rip brat summer you will be missed! let me know what you think besties, i hope you guys enjoy! 🖤

The garden party is just like all the others—stuffy, overly formal, and dreadfully boring.

Crisp white tablecloths, lavish floral arrangements, and people so proper they could break under the weight of their own fake smiles. You sit there, listening to the endless parade of politicians and diplomats, watching them laugh at jokes that aren’t funny, and nod through speeches about policies that barely concern you.

You hate it. All of it. The politics, the empty pleasantries, the way people look at you like you’re a porcelain doll who must be carefully handled. But tonight’s different. 

Tonight, you have a plan.

Feigning a headache? Easy. You’ve been doing it for years, perfecting the art of slipping away unnoticed. You even relish the concerned whispers, the fake sympathy in their eyes. 

She can’t even handle a small gathering. Poor thing.

The moment you’re out of sight, the act drops. The tension releases, and your heart races, not from anxiety but from excitement.

You time your bathroom trip perfectly, ducking out of the guest quarters and navigating through the mansion’s less-frequented hallways.

Slipping past the Secret Service isn’t easy, but you’ve learned the gaps in their routine, the places they don’t check. It takes skill, but tonight, you’ve got it.

You’re free.

The rush of adrenaline is intoxicating. It feels foreign, but oh so thrilling, like the first breath of fresh air after being stifled for too long. You aren’t just her anymore— not the perfect girl with the pressure of a nation’s eyes on you, not the symbol of a legacy you never wanted.

You’re just a girl. You’re you.

The club hits you like a shock to the system, but it’s exactly what you crave. The air is thick with heat and bodies, the music pounding so loudly it thrums through your bones, syncing with the beat of your heart. It’s the opposite of everything your life has been—raw, chaotic, real. You feel the tightness of the dress hugging your body, a deliberate rebellion against the prim, conservative outfits you’re usually forced to wear.

There’s nothing modest about this. It clings to every curve, drawing eyes. 

The alcohol hits fast, warm and buzzing, setting your blood on fire and sharpening your senses. You raise your arms, let the music take you. Let it drown out the noise in your head— the expectations, the responsibilities, the endless duties.

Your date’s hands find your waist, pulling you closer. His fingers dig in just enough for you to feel anchored, his breath warm against your neck. You lean back into him, letting the heat of his body and the thrum of the bass take you somewhere far away from reality.

You aren’t the girl born with a silver spoon shoved down her throat, suffocating in the luxury you never asked for. No cameras, no protocols, no rules. Just you, him, and the music.

His hands are everywhere, gliding over your hips, fingertips brushing the hem of your barely-there dress. His lips press against your neck, and you let your head fall back, enjoying yourself for the first time in forever.

Everything feels hazy, dreamlike. His mouth moves to your ear, the scrape of his breath sending shivers down your spine, whispering something about sneaking off to the bathroom.

The idea is scandalous and that alone makes you want to indulge it even more. You close your eyes, swaying with him, floating.

The world outside of this moment feels so far away. You don’t even notice the man cutting through the crowd, coming straight toward you.

Not until a large, strong hand clamps down around your arm and yanks you out of your date’s grasp.

You gasp, eyes snapping open, and spin around, blinking against the blur of neon lights, your heart jumping into your throat. Your gaze lifts and you see him— Javier Peña. Oh, shit.

You immediately recognize the stern, commanding face, dark eyes sharp even in the low light of the club. He’s the head of your security, the one you juked earlier when you slipped away from the garden party.

And the look he’s giving you right now? It’s killer. Could easily send you to an early grave.

His brows are furrowed in a deep frown, lips set in a tight line, his usual stoic expression sharpened by the flashing lights around you. His jaw is clenched so hard, you’re afraid he’s going to dislocate it. His eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them, burning with barely restrained fury.

You’ve been in trouble before, but this? This is something else.

“Hey, man, what the fuck is your problem?” Your date yells, trying to stand his ground, though his voice wavers a bit as he raises it above the music. For a second, you think he might actually try to do something.

Javier straightens up, his broad shoulders squared, chest puffing out, and it’s like watching a lion preparing to pounce. The guy you’re with, barely older than you, tries to hold his own, but as Javier towers over him, something in your date just... crumbles. The bravado slips from his face so quickly.

“I’d suggest you get the fuck away from her,” Javier growls, his voice low and deadly, “before I have the SWAT team outside drag your sorry ass to federal prison.” His words cut through the air like a knife, and even in the middle of the pounding music, the threat hangs heavy.

Your date’s eyes go wide, panic flickering across his face as he stumbles back. There’s no arguing with a man like that.

The guy might have been cocky a minute ago, but he’s not stupid.

He takes one last glance at you, like he’s weighing his options, but it’s clear he’s already made up his mind. Without another word, he’s scrambling away, blending into the crowd.

The people around you keep dancing, completely oblivious to the scene that just played out. But your heart is still pounding in your chest, your arm tingling where Javier’s grip lingers, and you can feel the tension rolling off of him in waves.

You glance up at him, breathless, and he looks back at you, his jaw still tight, eyes still stormy. God, he’s intense. And somehow, that only makes the heat between you burn hotter.

He’s livid. You don’t need words to understand that. 

“Peña—” you start, trying to find your voice, but it falters under the intensity of his glare. You’re used to seeing him calm, collected, the perfect professional.

That damn RJF— Resting Javi Face, as you’ve coined it. He never breaks, no matter how much you’ve tried to mess with him in the past.

You’ve spent years teasing him, trying to crack his cool exterior, just to see him react, to get something more than that unwavering stone face. But he never gives you more than the occasional twitch of his jaw, a flick of his brow. 

Until now.

Seeing him like this, thoroughly pissed off, stirs something deep inside you, something that’s both thrilling and dangerous. You can’t help the way your heart skips or how your skin flushes beneath his grip.

You’ve always found him damn near irresistible— ever since the moment you first laid eyes on him when your mom reworked your security detail. He became your personal heartthrob, eye candy for the days when you were stuck inside the house, surrounded by guards and endless rules. 

You’d never act on it, though. Especially since he’s married, that much you know by the golden band that wraps around his ring finger.

However, the way he’s looking at you now, with those smoldering eyes, is doing something to you. More than just a flutter in your chest. Anticipation pools at the base of your spine, and— damn— you’re definitely feeling it between your thighs.

He’s clearly ready to drag you back to the mansion and lock you up for good. 

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” His voice is gravelly and laced with a level of frustration that almost makes you moan. He leans down, his face inches from yours, and you can smell the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the alcohol-soaked air. It’s dizzying. “I’ve been looking for you for hours.”

The accusation in his tone is unmistakable, but you can’t help the smirk that curls at the corner of your lips. The alcohol you’ve consumed gives you some hardcore liquid courage. “Found me now, didn’t you?”

His eyes flash with something you can’t quite read— anger, annoyance. He takes a step closer, his chest brushing against yours. You’re buzzing all over, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re in trouble, or because the way his presence towers over you is doing things to you that no man has ever done before. 

“You think this is a game?” His voice drops lower, a dangerous edge to it that sends a delicious thrill through your body.

It feels like the music has been put on mute with the way you can hear him so clearly.

You’d definitely pass out if not for how bad you want him.

His fingers tense just a little more around your arm, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that you’re under his reign right now. 

“I didn’t—” you start, but the words die in your throat when he leans in even closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“Let’s fucking go” His tone is final, commanding, and it leaves no room for argument. You can’t help but want to push him a little more.

You bite your lip, feeling the pulse of desire starting its familiar beat against your clit.

“Make me.”

The way he yanks you through the sea of sweaty bodies has you stumbling, your heels wobbling beneath you as a surprised yelp escapes your lips.

The liquor in your system makes it all a blur— the music returns all at once and it jump scares you back to your surroundings; lights flashing, then suddenly, you’re outside in the cool night air.

The alley is dark and quiet compared to the chaos inside the building, the only sound now the distant bass reverberating through the walls. His government issued black SUV sits nearby, its tinted windows gleaming under the dim streetlights.

So no SWAT team? Figures, he probably just said that to scare your date away.

He finally lets go of your arm, and you pull away sharply, rubbing the spot where his grip lingered a little too tight.

“I’m not leaving,” you declare, lifting your chin defiantly. You plant your stiletto clad feet, standing your ground, even though the alcohol is still buzzing through your veins, making everything feel unsteady but bold. 

Javier lets out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head as he scratches his jaw. His hands settle on his narrow waist, the standard suit and tie he’s always in, making him look even more handsome.

“You’re not leaving?” he repeats, as if testing the absurdity of your statement. He arches a brow, his lips curling in a sarcastic smirk. “You think this is a negotiation? Because I can assure you, it’s not.”

You cross your arms over your chest, the dress clinging to your skin like a second layer, you can damn near see your heartbeat through the material as you lock eyes with him. “I’m tired of always following someone else’s schedule. Living in my mother’s shadow, doing what I’m told, when I’m told. You don’t get it, Peña. You have no idea what it’s like to have every aspect of your life controlled by someone else.” You can’t help but ramble, tongue loose, “I never get a damn second to myself, to do anything I want!” Your voice rises with each word, frustration boiling over, the alcohol making you bolder than you’d normally be. “So, no. I’m staying right here and enjoying my night out.”

Javier’s smirk disappears, replaced by a hard, unyielding stare. His brown eyes remain dark and guarded, the nearby orange street light casting shadows across his chiseled face. “You’re acting like a spoiled brat,” he says flatly. “This is the life you’re stuck with until your mother is out of office. It’s not about what you want. You think you can just sneak away because it’s inconvenient? Because it’s hard?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, swaying slightly. “Easy for you to say, standing there in your perfect little suit, playing agent while I drown every day under the pressure of expectations I never asked for.”

Javier’s jaw flexes. “It could be a whole lot worse. You don’t like it? Too bad. Your mother doesn’t even know you’ve snuck out, and I’m not about to let her find out. I need to get you sober and back to the White House before she realizes you’re missing.” His tone is final, like he’s already made up his mind.

You step forward, eyes flashing with rebellion. “Or,” you play right into his hands, switching up entirely. A slow, deliberate, small smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth.

His eyes narrow as he watches you approach, hands still at his waist. 

You trail a finger along the edge of his tie, tugging it gently, testing his reaction. He swallows harshly, throat twitching at the action. “Why don’t we both stay? Let loose and have some fun,” you purr, low and teasing, fluttering your eyes as you look up at him. “We could both use a night off.”

He grits his teeth and pulls back slightly, but not enough to break the moment. “Don’t,” he warns, tone laden with something that sounds a lot less like anger and more like desire. “You’re drunk. This isn’t happening.”

“Am I?” You are, obviously. “Or are you just afraid that you’ll like it?” You challenge him, cocking your head to the side slightly.

“What’s the matter, Javier? Is your wife not fulfilling her duties at home? Is that why you’re obsessed with me?”

That strikes a nerve. “Enough,” he growls, voice strained and mean. You don’t give a single fuck, leaning in even closer, your lips ghosting over his jaw. His breath is ragged now, hand twitching at his side, as if he’s debating whether to push you away or pull you closer.

You don’t care that this is dangerous, that it’s wrong. All you care about is the way he’s looking at you now, like he’s been holding back for far too long. And maybe, just maybe, tonight is the night he listens to that voice in his head that’s been craving you all along.

“You’re not pushing me away…” you whisper, “Which makes me think that I’m right about your wife.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you feel him tense up. The thrill of his reaction is like electricity.

His silence only emboldens you, makes you lean in closer, lips brushing against his ear as you stand on the tips of your toes. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head, the conflict, the desire.

“So why don’t we just fuck?” you say it so bluntly, it almost sobers you up. Your lips are so close to his that you can almost taste him. The small hairs of his mustache tickle your cupid’s bow. “Get it over with. Scratch the itch.”

His hand shoots up, holding your jaw, stopping you in your tracks. His grip is tight, making you wince as his fingers dig into your cheeks.

His eyes carry a storm, filled with the kind of hunger you’ve been dying to see from him.

“You really do think this is a game, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

He moves quickly, using the hold on your face to pull you in for a bruising kiss. It’s not soft or gentle— it’s hungry, desperate, all teeth and tongue as he devours you.

His lips are adamant against yours, rough from the way he’s been biting them in frustration. You can taste the desperation, the pent-up desire.

You kiss him back just as fiercely, your body pressing into his, hands fisting in the front of his suit jacket as you pull him closer. There’s no space between you, no hesitation left. You whimper against his mouth, head spinning from the alcohol still pulsing through your veins and the way his hands have found your waist, gripping you tight.

He pulls away just long enough to breathe, his forehead pressing against yours. “You’re out of your damn mind,” he mutters, but even as he says it, his hands are pulling you in again, pressing your hips against his as if he can’t stop himself.

His eyes are wild now, the usual cool detachment replaced with a recklessness that matches yours.

“And you’re loving every second of it,” you murmur back, your lips already brushing against his again, teasing him, daring him to take more.

Javier growls deep in his throat, and suddenly, he’s spinning then guiding you toward the SUV. You stumble backward, your heels clicking against the pavement, barely able to keep up with his pace yet again. 

He pushes you up against the side of the vehicle, your back hitting the cool metal with a soft thud. The contrast between the cold steel and his burning touch sends shivers down your spine. And then his mouth is on yours again, harder this time, his body pressing you into the car, his hands roaming over your curves like he’s been starving for this.

Your fingers card through his hair as you pull him closer, wanting more, needing more. His lips trail down your neck, his stubble scraping against your softness. He nips at the sensitive skin just below your ear, making you gasp.

You arch against him, body responding to every rough touch and kiss. His hands fall over the fabric of your dress, tugging at the hem, sliding it up your thigh.

“Fucking with me all the time just to get me to react,” his fingers press firmly against your clit, teasing through the thin fabric of your panties. The sensation has you whimpering, your head falling back against the metal.

“Then sneaking out like this. I could lose my job over your carelessness.” His teeth sink into your neck, sharp and punishing, making you gasp in surprise, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“But no,” he hisses, his words dripping with contempt as he presses harder, fingers circling your clit in a way that makes your knees weak, hooking one of your legs up on his waist to spread you open further for him “the perfect princess doesn’t give a fuck. She’s too busy whining about being taken care of.” His free hand yanks at your panties, and the flimsy fabric gives way with a harsh tear, leaving you exposed.

The sudden rush of cool air against your hot skin is nothing compared to the feel of his calloused fingers returning to your pussy, spreading the wetness around before plunging two fingers inside you roughly.

The stretch is intense, and you moan loudly, cunt squeezing around his fingers as he works you with a rough precision, like he knows exactly how to break you down.

“You talk a lot for someone who’s fucking a woman half your age,” you bite out, but the words are weak, caught somewhere between a challenge and a plea.

You’re playing a dangerous move here, but the power struggle between you and him is addictive, like a live wire sizzling between you both.

He stops suddenly, fingers still inside you, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His expression is dark, dangerous, and filled with something primal. His free hand comes up to wrap around your neck, the cool band of his ring against your heated skin sends a shock through you, and you narrow your eyes at him, daring him to make his next move.

“Tired of you runnin’ that fucking mouth,” he grunts, tightening his grip on your throat just enough to make your breath hitch. With his other hand, he undoes his belt, the gentle clink of metal the only warning you get before he’s pushing you down roughly to your knees.

Your eyes widen as you look up at him, your heart racing. “Here?” you whisper, your voice breathy, equal parts shocked and exhilarated.

Javier tilts his head, a mocking smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he strokes himself, his cock heavy and girthy in his hand. “So now you care?” His tone is patronizing, but his eyes are filled with a hunger that makes your pulse quicken. You bite your lip as your gaze drifts lower, unable to stop yourself from taking in the sheer size of him, the pressure between your thighs building to an unreachable height.

Without another word, he brings you closer by the back of your neck, and your mouth parts instinctively. Your tongue swirls around the spongy tip, tasting the salty slickness of his precome. His fingers dig into your scalp as he guides your movements, but it doesn’t take long for his hips to start thrusting forward, fucking your mouth with no patience, no hesitation.

The pace is brutal, your throat burning as he pushes deeper. His thighs twitch ever so often and you can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding back just enough to not completely unravel.

Saliva dribbles from the corners of your mouth, tears streaming down your cheeks and smudging your perfectly applied makeup as you suck him off with desperation.

Your knees ache from grinding against the rough pavement, but the pain is nothing compared to the mess in your cunt, the need building with every rough move. 

“Who would’ve thought you could be such a slut,” Javier grunts, his hand gripping the back of your head, keeping you in place. His words are condescending, each syllable dripping with lust.

He pulls you off his cock, a string of spit connecting your lips to his flushed head. “You look so fuckin’ filthy like this,” a cruel smirk is on his lips as he directs your mouth lower, pressing your face against his balls. 

Now drunk on him— on the power he’s holding over you, on the taste of him filling your senses— you eagerly obey, your tongue darting out to trace his heavy sack. You moan as you take each one into your mouth, suckling gently, savoring the weight and the taste of him. His low groan above you is all the encouragement you need to keep going, your lips moving greedily as you continue to worship him with no hands.

“Fuck,” he breathes, the rough sound of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “Had I known you were this good at sucking dick, I would’ve fucked that pretty little throat ages ago.”

His words spur you on, making you feel powerful, wanted, as though you’re giving him something he’s been missing. Something his wife can’t provide. The thought stirs something dark inside of you, a thrill that mixes with the burning in your pussy as you take him back into your mouth, deep-throating him in one smooth motion.

Your palm finally reaches up, fondling his balls as you move, your throat contracting around him with every stroke, the sound of your gagging filling the alley. 

You pull him out again, spitting on his cock and pumping him with both hands, your grip slick as you work him faster, relishing in the way his head tips back, eyes squeezed shut in bliss. 

After a few more minutes of your sloppy, eager blowjob, he groans and yanks you off him, his hands rough as he drags you to your feet. Before you can process what’s happening, he’s thrown open the backdoor of the SUV, damn near tossing you inside before climbing in behind you. 

The moment he’s inside, his badge and gun are discarded to the side, and he grabs you by the waist, pulling you onto his lap as he leans back against the seat. His cock is hard and slick, pressing against your soaked entrance, but he doesn’t push inside yet. 

Instead, he yanks the top of your dress down, exposing your breasts, and immediately latches his mouth onto one of your nipples. His wet tongue swirls around the sensitive bud as his free hand pinches and tugs at the other, sending shocks of pleasure straight to your pussy. 

You moan loudly, your hips grinding down against his dick, sliding him between your slick folds, teasing both of you.

You’ve made a mess of his white shirt and part of his slacks.

You wonder if he’ll go home to her like this. Kiss her with the same mouth that’s kissed you.

Every inch of your skin is on fire, the need to have him inside of you building with every passing second. 

“Javier, please,” you whine, your fingers tangling in his hair as you try to push yourself down onto him.

He pulls away from your breast with a wet pop, “Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with condescension as his hand trails down your body, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “Begging for my cock like a whore.”

You bite your lip, your pride long forgotten as you look down at him, a needy expression painting your face. “Please, Javi,” you beg, grinding harder against him, feeling the thick head of his cock press against your entrance. “I need you. Please— fuck me.”

He chuckles darkly, his grip on your hips bruising the skin as he holds you still. “You think I’m just gonna give you what you want after the way you’ve been acting?”

Before you can respond, his hand comes down hard on your ass, the sharp sting of the spank making you cry out in surprise. “Javi!”

“Shut the fuck up,” he grumbles, landing another spank on the other cheek. “You want my cock? Earn it.”

You moan, your body trembling as the pain mixes with the pleasure coursing through you. His words, his rough treatment— it only makes you want him more. “Please,” you sob, your voice shaky as you wiggle your hips, trying to push him inside, the lingering sting of his smacks vibrating against your plush skin. 

He groans, and in one swift motion, he thrusts up into you, his cock stretching you wide as he sinks deep inside. You cry at the sudden intrusion, your body tensing before relaxing as the pleasure of being filled washes over you.

“Fuck,” it feels like his cock has punched you in the lungs, your nails digging into his shoulders as you start to move, riding him slowly at first, your head thrown back as you savor the feeling of him inside of you. “So fucking big.”

Javier grunts, his hands gripping your hips as he guides your movements, bucking up into you as you swivel your hips. “That’s it,” his teeth graze your neck as he thrusts harder, deeper. “Take it, princess. Take every inch.”

You moan loudly, your body then bouncing on his lap as you both lose yourselves in the heat of the moment.

Nothing else matters except the way he feels inside you and the filthy words spilling from his lips as you fuck each other like you’ve both been waiting for this for far too long.

The sounds coming from both of you—wet, filthy, primal—fill the confined space of the SUV. The smell of sex and leather in the air.

Each thrust of his hips sends you spiraling closer to the edge, your bodies colliding in a frenzied rhythm that makes the vehicle rock with your movements. Thank fucking God the windows are tinted.

Javier’s hands grip your hips tightly, guiding your frantic movements, his cock buried deep inside of you, hitting every spot that makes you cry out in pleasure.

Eyes are half-lidded as he watches your breasts bounce while you hop on his dick.

His lips part, a low groan escaping him as he feels you flutter around him, your pussy tightening with the promise of your impending orgasm.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grits out. He’s close— so fucking close— and the way you’re moving, the way you’re so desperate for him, makes it impossible for him to hold back much longer.

His brow furrows, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face as he thrusts up into you harder, faster— chasing his own release. “You’re gonna make me come, princess,” he groans, his fingers digging into your skin as he bites down on his lower lip.

Your head falls back, your lips parted in a breathless moan as the band inside you snaps. “Javi,” you mewl, barely able to get his name out as the wave of pleasure crashes over you, sending your body trembling and convulsing around him. “Oh fuck, I’m coming,” you gasp, your voice breaking as your orgasm ripples through you. “Harder— please.”

He grits his teeth once he feels you unravel around him, your pussy clenching against his cock. It gets him there with you, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as his hips jerk up harshly a few more times time.

His release hits him hard, spilling into you without asking, but you don’t notice nor care. You both ride out the aftershocks together, tangled in each other’s arms, your breaths coming in ragged gasps, the car still rocking slightly as the final thrusts slow.

For a brief moment, everything is still. Your fingers trailing over his skin as you try to catch even out your breathing.

But then, reality slams back into focus.

Javier’s body goes rigid beneath you, his hands releasing their grip on your hips as if what just happened is sinking in all at once. “Get off,” he mutters, his voice suddenly sharp. “Now.”

You blink, disoriented, still riding the afterglow, but the tone of his voice cuts through the haze. You hesitate for a second, looking down at him, trying to read his expression. There’s no trace of the infatuation that had consumed him just moments ago. Instead, his face is etched with regret, his lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tight.

“Javi…” you start, but he cuts you off, his hand coming up to push you gently but firmly off his lap.

“Get. Off,” he repeats, leaving no room for argument.

You pull away, your body trembling slightly as you move off him, awkwardly adjusting your dress. The tension is suffocating as Javier quickly pulls up his pants, his hands shaking slightly as he fastens his belt. He’s avoiding your gaze, his brows furrowed in frustration as he runs a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath.

“We need to go,” his voice is cold and distant, as if the intimacy you just shared never happened. “Before your mother declares a state of emergency on the entire country.”

He digs into his pocket, your ruined panties then are tossed at you and you bite your lip, feeling the sting of rejection settle deep in your chest.

Once he’s fixed his clothes, Javier moves with a tense efficiency, reholstering his gun and straightening his badge like nothing happened.

His movements are mechanical, as if he’s trying to regain control, trying to rebuild that wall he always hides behind. You sit there, watching him in silence, a real icy feeling knotting in your chest.

He doesn’t look at you as he steps out of the SUV, slamming the door behind him forcefully and it makes you flinch. The loud thud echoes through the car, leaving you alone in the backseat with nothing but your racing thoughts and destroyed underwear.

The shame snaps into you then, creeping up your spine and spreading through your body like poison. You wipe the smeared makeup from under your eyes, fix your dress, but there’s no saving it. Literally and metaphorically.

He slips into the driver’s seat a moment later. He doesn’t say a word.

You sink back into the leather seat, the silence absolutely deafening. The back of the car feels like a cage now— your earlier exhilaration has all but disappeared. All that’s left is this gnawing sense of regret swirling in your gut.

The engine hums to life as he drives out of the alleyway, his movements precise and methodical, the way they always are when he’s on the job.

Like he’s already compartmentalizing.

You consider saying something— anything to break the silence that’s strangling you both— but the words die on your lips. What would you even say?

“You should’ve never snuck out,” Javier finally speaks lowly, as if it’s painful for him to even acknowledge the situation. “You’re lucky no one saw you.”

There’s an edge to his words, but it’s not the usual reprimand. Rather just regret, frustration, and anger all wrapped into one.

You don’t respond right away, your eyes fixed on the traffic ahead. “I don’t care,” you finally mutter, more to yourself than to him. “I’m sick of it. Of all of it.” You pause, your throat tight with emotion. “For once, I just wanted to feel like I was in control.”

Javier lets out a harsh breath, his hands tightening on the wheel. “Control? ” He scoffs, his tone biting. “You don’t even know what that word means.”

You turn your head to glare at him, heart pounding in your chest. “I’m not a fucking child.” He chuckles at that, wordlessly saying otherwise. “And you don’t know what it’s like to live my life,” you snap, the frustration boiling over. “To constantly be watched, to have every move scrutinized, to be paraded around like some perfect fucking doll when I didn’t ask for any of it.”

His grip on the wheel loosens slightly, but his face remains impassive. “None of this is new,” he reminds you, “You knew what your life would be like when your mother was re-elected. It’s not about you anymore. It never was.”

You feel the sting of his words, but you refuse to back down. “Maybe it should be,” you say, your voice trembling with anger. “Maybe I should get to live my life the way I want to. Not the way everyone else expects me to.”

Brown eyes flicker toward you in the rearview mirror for a split second. He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter,” his voice is tight. “You can try again in four years.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you sink deeper into the seat. “You just want to pretend this never happened.”

Javier’s silence is answer enough.

The rest of the ride is quiet and tense. When you finally pull up to the back gates of the White House, you sigh when your lavish prison comes into view and when he parks right outside the private entrance that you and the rest of your family get in and out of.

Javier glances in the rearview mirror one final time, his expression unreadable, before he cuts the engine and steps out.

He opens the back door for you, his handsome face set in that familiar stoic mask. “Let’s go,” he orders, tone flat, devoid of the erotic emotions from earlier.

You hesitate, a pout forming on your lips, the confidence you’d wielded earlier crumbling to dust. Your legs wobble as you step out, shaky and weak from how he fucked you

He shrugs off his jacket and throws it over your bare shoulders. The gesture would’ve felt protective, maybe even tender, in another moment. But now, it’s a calculated move to cover up the evidence of what you just did. He’s not doing it for you— he’s doing it for his job. 

He walks you inside, his large hand resting lightly at your lower back as if guiding you, but the warmth you once felt from his touch is nowhere to be found. His eyes dart around the hall, scoping the area, making sure none of the other agents that he commands are around to see you.

He nods curtly when the coast is clear, a silent gesture to keep moving. You feel like a liability— something to be hidden away, managed, not the girl who he was just balls deep inside.

The heels you’re wearing are muted against the thick carpet as you walk down the long hallway toward your bedroom. Each step feels like an eternity. 

When you finally reach your bedroom door, he pulls the jacket from your shoulders without a word. You blink back the sting of tears, throat tightening at the action.

He’s not just being distant—he’s erasing you, erasing the moment, wiping it all away like it meant nothing.

Because it hadn’t meant a damn thing. He is married, after all. You were nothing but an easy fuck. A form of relief. Eye candy for him as he was for you.

Without looking back or saying anything, you push open the door and step inside. The soft click of the latch as you shut it in his face echoes in the stillness and you don’t need to look back to know that there’s nothing behind those brown eyes for you anymore. 

[physalian]

Your colloquialisms are ruining the immersion (or, non-contemporary dialogue)

I am no expert here! Whenever I wrote historical fiction it was anachronistic historical fiction. This advice is from a reader’s perspective and from my experience writing high fantasy.

So what’s the deal with immersive dialogue? I’m going to ignore writing dialects and accents and so-called “old English” with the thee, thy, thou and such. Solely focusing here on the narrative telling me this isn’t set in present times, and yet the dialogue being painfully colloquial like present times.

This is coming from a book I had to read set in HRE times. In it, characters were spouting modern curse words, tacking on verbal tics and crutch words like “or something” and “um” and drawing out words like “daaaamn” and “nooooo”. Rip out the dialogue and toss it in a script with zero context and it would read like two high schoolers from 2009, not two adults from the Holy Roman Empire. Which is a problem, because it completely shattered the immersion. —

1. On so-called “formal writing”

Everybody knows that nixing contractions doesn’t do a damn thing to help your writing look more “formal”, it just looks robotic and stiff, right? We’ve gotten past this as a society? There’s a time and a place for replacing contractions with the full words, but not for every single sentence.

I swear this show keeps creeping into my writing advice but here we go. Transformers Prime. The context for Optimus’ dialogue has a lot to do with his aging voice actor, Peter Cullen, and the perception of the character over the decades from the corny 80s paragon hero everyman type leader to the grizzled and wizened old soul type leader. Optimus isn’t “one of the guys,” he’s old. Very old. He’s the dad of the group (one dad, his grumpy medic is the other dad).

So he gets lines like:

“I fear Megatron’s ambition is at its zenith.”

“But if his return is imminent as I fear, it could be a catastrophic.”

“I bore Skyquake no ill-will.”

He doesn’t curse like the other Autobots. His voice only raises in surprise, horror, or rage. He doesn’t go “um/ah/so/but/eh” and always thinks about what he’s going to say well before he says it. Despite him, Ratchet (the dad medic), and Megatron all being very old, Optimus is the only one who’s “proper” and collected and dignified with his lines. The writers didn’t achieve this simply by omitting contractions, he gets them where necessary and removes them when effective (e.g “We do not.” / “We don’t.”)

2. Thesaurus Rex

Continuing with the Optimus example, no other character in that show would use “zenith” unironically. Or “ill-will”. This doesn’t mean crack open and abuse a thesaurus but there’s a huge divide between:

“Megatron’s gone crazy and he’s going to implode soon” and “Megatron’s ambition is at its zenith”.

I can’ think of a better word to use than dignified, perhaps distinguished to describe his dialogue.

He doesn’t say “what?” when he’s confused, he pauses and says something like “please elaborate”.

This is both word choice and a syntax issue so if you’re struggling to fit a non-contemporary vibe for your work, pay attention to both.

3. When to abstain from cursing

There’s something very special about the dialogue in the Lord of the Rings movies: It’s PG-13 so they can’t curse, but if they had, it would have probably ruined the trilogy. These characters are able to yell in rage and anguish, spit vicious insults at their enemies, and stare down armies that are determined to kill them, all while never breaking the immersion.

Insults like:

“Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear.”

“Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth, you witless worm.”

“Your words are poison.”

And all three were said by or about Grima Wormtongue.

Characters aren’t dumbasses, they’re fools, with the exception of Gollum’s insults toward Sam, the “stupid, fat hobbit”.

Even devoid of name-calling, Denethor absolutely trounces his second son by asking (and I’m paraphrasing) “Is there any man here willing to do his lord’s bidding?” right after Faramir expresses some apprehension about a suicide charge with his remaining soldiers, completely ignoring him and implying that he’s not a real man.

LOTR is full of juicy lines beyond curse words, too. One of my absolute favorites is: “Dark have been my dreams of late” as opposed to “I’ve been having nightmares lately.”

Do you see?? It’s poetry. The motif of Shadow and Darkness as if they’re real, physical things, all the lines of poetry pulled straight from the books like Theoden’s “where is the horse and the rider” monologue just before Helm’s Deep.

It’s dignified.

—

This one was a bit harder to, ironically, put into words without doing a full-blown case study into either franchise’s ability to write dialogue and monologues. I didn’t even talk about Ratchet’s several monologues (one of which was done perfectly in the sound booth on the first take) because Jeffrey Combs has a voice like ambrosia.

TLDR: Immersion goes far beyond your vivid setting descriptors and the clothing or the names and languages. I mostly write fantasy and sci-fi and whenever I read or watch fantasy and sci-fi that isn’t meant to be a world different from our own, or about characters who don’t speak modern English, and they go off with modern slang, syntax, and verbal tics, it just feels sloppy and weak. Pay attention to the following:

Syntax

Modern slang and jargon

Filler words/verbal tics

Curse words/curses

Flat, unmotivated vocab

*All of the quotes were from memory because I watch both of these franchises way too often. So apologies if I got any wrong.

[ravixen]

can you do one wherein they're on a variety show and someone asks about your relationship?? (they are publicly dating) With Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Minghao and Vernon?

svt + variety show asks about idol!s/o

➔ reaction || requested || idol!y/n

➔ warnings: none || 0.6k words ➔ notes: fluff ; this prompt feels like it'd go well with my previous posts "svt + sending a video message on a show" from 2022 and 2023! I originally wrote this for a non-idol!y/n before I realized that by "publicly dating," you probably meant an idol s/o so I redid it. I had a little trouble thinking of situations since the prompt was broad, but it was still fun to write. might do another part with the more open members. please reblog if you liked it!!

SEUNGCHEOL: if he was promoting with his members, he wouldn't even entertain the question; working as part of a team matters a lot to him, and as the group leader, he has to set an example. but today he's doing a solo interview and lets himself be more open. when the hosts ask about you, he absolutely tries his best to hide his initial reaction, but he can't help the smile that automatically appears at the mention of your name. he attempts to play it off with an arrogant hair ruffle that fools no one. literally so embarrassing. "am I happy? ...yeah, I'd say so." he laughs. "why would I say no? all of my important people are healthy and living their best life." he doesn't share too many details about you, just to protect your privacy, but he'd be proud to promote any of your recent achievements, regardless of your occupation.

WONWOO: he's a private person, so while he is technically dating in the public eye, there's not much known about your relationship; that's exactly why the show hosts are taking advantage of this opportunity to grill him about you. but he evades their questions with the practiced grace of someone who's had media training, dancing right in front of the answers they're looking for. he looks so at ease: crossed arms, leaned back, a hint of a smile on his lips. but perhaps it's due to this false sense of security that, when they bring out the big guns, it knocks him off-balance. they have pictures. nothing incriminating. it's just embarrassing to see his affection collaged like this: peeks of you as his lockscreen, him dancing in the crowd at your street performance, him staring affectionately at your back as you order from a food truck...yeah, they caught him with it all.

MINGHAO: he's an extremely private person—I'd argue even more so than wonwoo—so he warned the program beforehand that he wouldn't answer any questions about you, other than to confirm that yes, you are still happily together. they agree...and of course scheme ways to get around that. so instead of asking about you directly, they decide to reference you a few times throughout the shooting to catch his reaction. maybe your song as a random dance or screenshots of your show as memes. they have audacity, he'll give them that. if he was a lesser man or earlier into his career, he'd cave and play into their wants, but neither of those apply to him so he smiles every time, ignoring the references, until they get bored and move on. then, at the end of the shoot, they ask if he has any closing words. "thanks for promoting their work so seriously," he says with a sarcastic bow.

VERNON: he's yet another private person (do you have a type), though not through conscious choice like minghao. he's publicly dating and has nothing to hide, but he's not the type to flaunt personal matters so he just doesn't. obviously his friends and family know the important details, but beyond that, he doesn't see the point in sharing information with people that don't really know him. so when the hosts ask him about his relationship, it catches him off-guard. he fully blinks and stares at the host until someone breaks the silence with an awkward laugh. "unless you two broke up?" they offer tentatively. "no, we're still together. it's been, uh, it's been good. great." he nods. "we actually went to see a movie yesterday." and the hosts sit there waiting for him to continue, and he's staring back at them like. that's all I wanted to say...are we moving on?

[mbsneur]

Secret Games

Alexia Putellas x Ona Batlle

Summary: friends? Lovers? Friends with benefits?

WC: 4,5k (a long one)

Warnings: Smut18+,vibrators,rough sex,oral sex, Dom!Alexia, strap-ons, cunnilingus,overstimulation,squirting

My Masterlist

please just read the text before you start reading :)

It has happened what some of you have been waiting for all this time I AM BACK and then with Alexia x Ona you all wished for it and your wish is my command it has been time to think and if I post now it does not mean I will post every day or every other day understand and let me come back in I will post when I am well and have enough time maybe in the next few weeks this fic may not be my best work yet I appreciate any kind of feedback it is a fic I wrote with @patrywoso a collaboration and I love it! !

every mistake and the punctuation was taken care of @melissabarreraswife lots of love <3

I'm curious how you like the fic, let me/us know and if you have any wishes or want to write something, my requests are open :) now u can read

Lots of love <3

spain camp.

Alexia and Ona played against Canada yesterday; it was a tough game that ended 1-1.

The two sit in the meeting room. Montserat just gave her speech about things that need to be improved and that could be better.

Ona sat in the second row with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Her tongue clicked against her palate, and her head rolled to the side. Her eyes met Alexia's.

Alexia and Ona were friends with benefits; they didn’t know what they were; maybe friends who had sex from time to time; nobody knew about it, only the two of them. Alexia looked at Ona as if she would undress her at any moment, preferably in front of all her teammates.

After every game, the captains had to give a speech about how things went from their point of view, so Alexia had to do the same.

Alexia’s eyes left Ona’s before she stood up and walked forward. Ona naturally admired Alexia, her powerful eyes that made her melt, her breathtaking smile that she always uses at the perfect moment, and her defined muscles. Her biceps peeking out of her t-shirt, her god, her veiny hand

Ona had other thoughts than this soccer game and it‘s mistakes. Ona thought about what Alexia could do with her hands. Ona couldn’t hold back her heavy breathing as she hastily crossed one leg over the other and pressed her thighs together. Her jaw visibly tensed, and her eyes bored into Alexia’s form.

Ona watched closely as Alexia’s lips moved. She noticed how nervous Alexia became at her looks. Alexia tried to look away.

Ona noticed that someone next to her was keeping an eye on Alexia, the new player in the squad. Sheila, you all called her "shei."

She looked at Alexia as if she were in love, and Alexia gave Shei a little smile. Ona didn’t know if she should be jealous or what it was that made her feel that way. She wanted to be the only one for Alexia.

Ona looked away annoyed and decided to concentrate on the game and alexia’s speech. She leaned back in the chair, and her face turned into an annoyed look.

//

The Team meeting was over, and Ona walked with Cata and Patri towards the exit.

“Ona-Onita”

She heard shouting from behind as she tourned around, smiling Alexia came towards her with the biggest smile she had seen in a long time.

Alexia put an arm around Ona’s narrow shoulders and came closer to her hairline.

“Why don’t you wait for me, idiota?” says Alexia ironically

Ona rolled her eyes in the back of her head. “Why don’t you go with Shei? i think you can ask. Maybe you’ll be assigned to a room with her.” Ona says annoyed, and Alexia starts laughing.

“What’s wrong with you? Why are u being mean to her? We should be nice to the new ones,” Alexia replies with a laugh.

Ona looks angrily at Alexia. Her breathing becomes loud as if she could burst at any moment. “I’m serious, Alexia, go to her,” says ona, more annoyed than before.

“Mh, do you want to go to our room and I’ll massage this anger away from you? How does that sound?” Alexia whispers in Ona’s ear, gently stroking her auricle

Ona’s breathing becomes heavy at the light but intense touch. “i want to rest, Ale,” Ona says and shakes her shoulders to remove Alexia’s arm.

Alexia sighs and lets go of Ona. She groans annoyed and trots after Ona.

The others have gathered in the common room as they do every evening. Will it be

noticeable that Ona and Alexia are the only ones who will be missing?

When Alexia and Ona reach their shared

room, Alexia's arms immediately wrap

around Ona's narrow hips and pull her close to her chest.

She lays her head gently on Ona's shoulder, and Ona tries to squirm, but Alexia pulls her closer to her.

"What's wrong with you, Bonita?" Alexia whispers in her ear and nibbles on her earlobe. Ona lets herself fall close to alexia

and sighs against her, her eyes closed and her body tight against Alexia in her arms.

Alexia's lips move to the side of Ona's neck, and she gives out lots of firm kisses that combine with sucking and nibbling ona‘s

mouth wide open before she gets a word in edgewise.

"Talk to me, what's wrong," Alexia says

emotionally and leans closer to Ona. One of her hands moves up Ona‘s belly and pulls lightly on the hem of her shirt.

"Because she wouldn't stop fucking looking at you like she wants to eat you out," Ona says, annoyed and tries to push away from Alexia.

Alexia starts to laugh. Her hand moves to one of Ona's breasts and pinches her nipple. Ona yells, "Shh, are you jealous, Cari?" Alexia says in a deeper voice. Her finger pinches Ona's now-hard nipple again.

"I am not," Ona sighs.

"I think it's fucking hot when you're

jealous," Alexia says, taking Ona's whole

breast in her hand. Ona moans and lets her whole weight fall against Alexia now.

With a quick movement, Alexa turns Ona around, and her mouth presses down on Ona's Her strong hand grabs Ona's neck, and Ona gasps into Alexia's throat.

Alexia's grip tightens, and she takes the opportunity to slide her tongue into Ona's mouth. Alexia suckers on Ona's tongue. Alexia's hands go from Ona's neck to her breasts. She squeezes them tightly.

Ona finds it hard to kiss Alexia; her kisses

become wet and a wild mess.

After a few seconds, Alexia lets go of Ona, breathing heavily, and looks at her swollen, wet lips.

"Take your clothes off," said Alexia and tilted her head up slightly.

"Ale, if someone hears us and we are the only ones not there," says Ona with slight fear and takes a step back.

"Now," Alexia said confidently.

Ona liked playing around with Alexia; she

loved being a brat who gets punished.

Ona pulled her shirt over her head and

threw it straight into Alexia's arms cheekily

with a mischievous smile.

"Ona, behave or you'll get the fucking

punishment," Alexia says dominantly, and

Ona just rolls her eyes.

"Don't you want to play with me?" Ona asks

cheekily and winks at Alexia.

Alexia hates this cheeky way Alexia could fuck her until she can't spell cheeky anymore.

Ona removes her pants and sees Alexia's

hungry eyes staring at her, at which Ona could only smile

Alexia crosses her arms and doesn't let the little girl out of her sight for a second. She loves it when Ona does what she wants and how every single one of her muscles tenses with these movements. Alexia's eyes widen as Ona bends down to fold her clothes carefully.

Alexia put Ona's clothes aside and then

took up her form. She wore Alexia's favorite underwear, the white lace bra and the

white thong, and with the little bow, Ona

knew what she was doing.

"Thong out of bra on," Alexia said bossily

and pointed to Ona's bra and thong.

Alexia walked past Ona and sat with her legs apart on the edge of the bed. Ona stood small and frightened in front of her. "Where is your big mouth? Are you scared?" Alexia asked with her lip hanging out.

Ona just shakes her head. "Come on my lap, ass up in the air, babygirl." Alexia spits out, and Ona walks tenderly towards her. She knows exactly what's coming. Alexia is leaning back. Her arms hold her up. She watches Ona as she lies down on her lap.

As soon as Ona lies completely on Alexia's lap, Alexia's hand gently strokes Ona's back. "What a pretty girl." Alexia moans, and Ona's lower lip lies firmly between her

teeth. Her whole body is tense.

"Say it," Alexia says before reaching into the meat in Ona's ass. Ona grunts and thinks about her next words, "Imma, pretty girl."

slap

"Fu-fuck," Ona groans and supports herself, but Alexia presses her head firmly onto the

mattress.

"Say it again, baby," Alexia says with raised eyebrows.

"I'm a pretty girl," Ona says out of breath.

slap

"Fuck ale," Ona moans in pain.

One of Alexia's hands grabs Ona's bun and pulls her up. "You're a pretty girl, my pretty girl, lo entiendes?" Alexia says harshly and pulls harder on Ona's hair.

"I understand," Ona gasps and tries to look

at Alexia.

"What do you understand?" Alexia pulls harder, and her teeth clench tightly.

"That I'm your pretty girl, please," Ona says tearfully, and Alexia drops Ona's head. Ona bounces back onto the varnish, and Alexia's

hand lies flat on her tailbone.

"I'm going to have to remind you who you

belong to, relax, Valerie?" Alexia says,

watching Ona's every reaction.

"You want to beat me? You want to torture me," Ona says cheekily, and with a raspy voice, Alexia smiles at her words.

"Count them for me," Alexia says with a

grin, and Ona sighs hard into the sheets.

slap

"one..."

slap

,,two.."

,,Good girl," Alexia says proudly and massages Ona's ass cheeks.

slap

,,Three fuck ale."

"You can still take some, I know it," says

Alexia, whimpering and pressing against

Ona's cheeks.

slap

,,four-,,

slap

,,Five.. I can't ale."

"Have you had enough? You have to understand if you behave like a brat, I will treat you like a brat, mh?" Alexia says, stuttering and looking at Ona's now red ass.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. Will you fuck me now, please?" Ona asks tearfully and turns her head to look at Alexia.

Alexia smiles, and Ona's legs spread

automatically.

Alexia's fingers graze the inside of Ona's

thigh. Ona trembles at the gentle touch.

"Are you wet, Bonita?" Alexia asks, and her fingers move on to Ona's core.

"So wet, please, Alexia," Ona says slightly out of breath and tries to rock herself

against Alexia's finger. "God, you're so desperate," Alexia says nervously, and her middle finger goes straight through Ona's folds and absorbs her wetness.

"F-uck," Ona whimpers, and Alexia's finger

plunges into her dripping hole. She moves painfully slowly; her walls squeeze around her finger. "You are so tight. How long have you not been fucked, mh?" Alexia asks, and Ona moans, "I need more, please."

"Answer my question," Alexia said,

croaking, and gave her another slap on the bottom. Ona squirmed.

"Stop moving so much," Alexia says and

clicks her tongue. Alexia pushes another

finger in, which immediately makes Ona moan louder.

"The last one to fuck me was you, and it's been 3 days," says Ona, moaning and

pushing her body upwards.

“That’s right, it will be the last thing you remember,” says Alexia and bends down to kiss Ona’s back

“You feel so fucking good fuck,” Ona screams and arches her back. Her legs spread wider as Alexia’s pace became more erratic.

“Do you want to cum like this spread out?” Alexia asks out of breath, and her eyes widen as she notices Ona’s arched back.

“Fuck yes, please,” Ona begs and tries to cover her moans.

“Don’t you dare cover your mouth. I want to hear you, and i don’t care if the others hear it,” Alexia warns and pulls ona up by her bun again, this time with more force.

Ona’s eyes are glassy, so desperate for an orgasm, “I want to cum please,” Ona moans and looks at Alexia.

“Will you do what i want without being a brat?” Alexia asks, and her fingers hit the perfect spot in Ona’s hole. Ona’s legs tense and tremble against Alexia’s hand.

Ona grinds her teeth. She tries to delay her orgasm as much as possible. “Yes, please, can i cum?” Ona whimpers and rolls her eyes into the back of her head. The sounds with each thrust are obscene and pornographic.

“Good girl, cum for me,” Alexia whispers and speeds up. Ona’s walls get tight around Alexia’s thick fingers. Her thigh muscles are tense, and Ona’s head rests on the lacquer. With her little scream, she comes on Alexia’s fingers.

Ona rides out her orgasm when she has fully relaxed, and Alexia removes her fingers from her Ona’s juices stick to her hand— quite a mess. Ona’s inner thighs are soaking wet, and Ona whimpers to herself

Alexia caught sight of Ona. The aftershocks of her orgasm rushing through her body caught Ona’s gaze and stared into her hazel eyes. “Suck on it,” Alexia said energetically and stretches her wet fingers into Ona’s face.

Without thinking, Ona takes Alexia’s fingers in her mouth up to her knuckels. Alexia moans at the feeling and watches Ona as she licks a long strip from her knuckels to her fingertips to make sure everything is clean.

“Swallow it all of it,” Alexia orders and rams her fingers deeper into Ona’s throat, making her gasp with a loud pop. Alexia pulls her fingers out and spreads her saliva over Ona’s cheek.

“You’re so fucking hot, baby,” Alexia says with a grunt and gives Ona an intense kiss on the lips. Her hands reach for Ona’s hips to place her gently on her back

Alexia works her way to Ona's jawline and

nibbles at her skin. Her hands find their

way to the clasp of Ona's bra; she removes it and throws it somewhere in the room.

Ona's mouth is open. Her breathing is heavy. Alexia's tongue is now working on her neck. "You will take my cock... the big one, Cari," Alexia says in a low voice, and Ona's eyes meet hers. Ona nods at her words, "Talk to me, Onita; I won't fuck you for the next three months otherwise." Alexia spits and rolls her eyes, annoyed.

"You won't make it anyway." ona grin

Alexia doesn't like the words at all. She slaps Ona on the thigh and runs to her suitcase. ona startles. The pain spreads over her entire left side.

She looks up and down as she pulls her shirt over her head, her eyes full of lust. "See my little slut to ruin," Alexia says devilishly, and she pulls her trousers down her strong thighs. Alexia's legs are tense.

ona watches Alexia bent down to her

suitcase. Ona wasn't a butt girl, but something about Alexia's bum turned her

on. It was defined and muscular, and with every walk it tensed and moved slightly. Ona's bottom lip is between her teeth. Her eyes wander over Alexia's whole body, and she can't suppress the moan that comes out of her mouth.

Alexia wasn't lying when she said that Ona would take the big strap; it was really

bigger than the ones they usually use.

Ona's eyes widen at the sight of the cock. between Alexia's legs uncontrollably. She opens her legs wider and slides up and down. She is impatient.

Alexia steps forward to the edge of Ona's bed. She kisses her shin and takes her other knee firmly in her hand. Her other hand caresses Ona's thigh. Ona's skin is flushed. Her cheeks burn. Alexia's mouth moves higher and opens Ona's legs wider. She kisses all the way up to Ona's neck, and she now hovers completely over her.

"You want my cock inside you, don't you?" Alexia says, breathing heavily against Ona's sensitive skin, "Yes, please." Ona whimpers tearfully and presses herself against Alexia to create some kind of friction. "Please, who?” Alexia says, stunned, smirking slightly at what she knows is driving Ona crazy

"Please, ma'am," Ona says breathlessly and reaches for Alexia's body to pull her closer to her.

"You're so pretty when you know how to use your words." Alexia whispers, and her cock gently brushes the inside of Ona's

thigh. Ona's breath hitches, and her hips lift against the cock.

"Be gentle, Ale," Ona whispers against Alexia's lips. Alexia strokes her cock right in front of Ona's entrance; her hips gently

thrust in, causing a deep croak from Ona's throat.

Alexia pushes deeper into Ona; her lips

collide and catch in a frenzied kiss. "Mark

me; everyone should know who I belong to," Ona moans against Alexia, and Alexia, lets out a harsh grunt. Her lips land on the crook of her neck. She nibbles and sucks on

it like the world champion she is.

"Fuck faster-shit-harder, please," Ona

moans.

Alexia doesn't need to be told twice, and her hips start to find a fast rhythm, her hips. slapping hard against Ona's bare skin with every trust.

"Arch your back for me." Whimpers Alexia Ona's back lifts and presses against Alexia's tits. “You take me so well, Bonita.” Alexia croaks againts Ona’s chest, her lips still firmly against her skin to mark her.

Alexia gets faster, and Ona’s noises get louder.

“Ah, fuck you close so well around me,” Alexia croaks against Ona. Her fingers press firmly into the sides of Ona’s hips.

Alexia’s teeth scrape over Ona’s neck. A shiver flies over Ona’s back.

“You’re mine,” groaned Alexia, and Ona cried out her thighs, squeezing tightly around Alexia’s hips. “Naw, do you want to cum already, baby?” Alexia asks, and Ona just moans and presses her head deeper into the sheets.

“I need to cum please, Alexia.” Ona’s words were coiled in her throat. Her voice is rough, and Ona’s legs start to tremble, and Alexia realizes how tight Ona gets around her cock. it’s a rush of emotion.

Alexia’s head falls to the side, and she realizes how close she is. “That’s it, cum for me, baby,” Alexia says, yearned. Her legs get heavy. She struggles to keep one open. Ona is a big mess. “so desperately for my cock, cum finally,” Alexia adds.

Ona's walls squeeze around Alexia with a

moan of her name, Ona Cum, on her cock.

Her breathing has become heavy just a little bit of life. She is so fucked, but Alexia is far from done with her.

Ona was just about to relax when Alexia takes mine and presses it over her head. Ona screams at the feeling of the cock going deep inside her "sensitive ale." Onal cries and knocks against Alexia's thigh.

Alexia doesn't stop pumping into her. Her hips get faster.

"No, take it." Alexia grunts and feels her orgasm getting closer and closer. Ona is overstimulated; her tears are shaking, and Alexia's hips are getting faster and faster.

Alexia holds Ona's legs in the air. Ona cries; only tears form at the corner of her eyes.

"Tell me who you belong to." Alexia's words become stuttery. Her eyes roll, and her

mouth is wet. "To you, Ale, go on, cum

inside me," she moans, and her hands

scratch Alexia's back.

Alexia gets weaker. Her legs get weak with

her last trust. When she comes into Ona,

she drops Ona's legs and falls on the little, now weak girl.

Ona's arms immediately close around Alex's neck to pull her close for an intimate hug. She kisses Alex's temples. Alexia's

breath is faint, as is her whole body.

“What’s going on? Are you done with me yet?” says Ona playfully.

Alexia lifts her head, and her eyes darken. “Una zorra así no se cansa de mi polla.”

Alexia says angrily before grabbing Ona’s hips and turning her onto her stomach. Her Cock hasn’t left Ona for a second. “Ask me that again after a few more orgasms, you fucking little slut.” Alexia spits and starts pumping into Ona again from behind.

Ona screams out; she wasn’t prepared for the speed Alexia puts on.

“Ale, a little slower, please.” Ona cries, but Alexia doesn’t slow down; on the contrary, she only gets faster.

"You like being such a naughty bitch; you'll

take what I give you," Alexia says with clenched teeth, her hands firmly around Ona's hips.

"Fuckfuck," Ona screams, her legs giving

way.

"You're doing so well; we'll keep going until you've learned what a brat you were once

again," croaks Alexia and gives Ona a slap on the shoulder.

Alexia gets faster. Ona can hardly think straight; her next orgasm builds up; her

belly is kind and Alexia merciless.

"Ale, you're going to make me cum fuck-

right there," Ona cried out. Alexia hits the perfect spot inside Ona.

"No apology first."

"please alexia I'm sorry it won't happen again, please." She begs, and a small smile spreads across Alexia's lips.

"I can't hold it anymore, ale, please." Ona is

a trembling mess.

"yeah baby? Do you have to cum?" Alexia asks playfully, her nails scratching over Ona's sensitive cheeks.

"Such a pretty girl, let me give you what you

need, mh?"

"Ya, please, I beg you." Ona grunts; her noises are getting smaller; it's too much.

"There is it; what a good girl cum on my cock," Alexia says she feels relaxed around her.

Ona comes over to Alexia; Alexia's thighs

are wet from Ona's juices. "Look what a pretty pussy you have. You are so fuckable, you know that," Alexia asks.

"Stop; I can't take it anymore. Too much

ale." Ona cries; she tries to move away from Alexia. “Sh, you can take another one for me, mh.”

“I swear I’ll get Shei in here.” Ona shouts angrily and overstimulated. Her fingers are sore, and her hips will probably be blue from Alexia’s hands tomorrow.

Alexia grabs Ona’s bun and pulls her head up a little. “Stop with these stupid statements; otherwise, I swear I’ll fuck you in hotel corridor, and we’ll all take turns on you; better behave yourself,” Alexia says, and then immediately drops Ona’s head on the sheets.

Alexia keeps pumping into her without a break.

"Come on, babes, I got you; you just want to fuck you dumb, mh."

Alexia's hands glided over every sensitive part of Ona's body. "So good for me."

Alexia's voice was soft, yet her thrusts were rough.

Ona's breathing is interrupted with an obscene moan as she pushes the toy into her alexia's hands. Feel Ona's flushed cheeks before she thrusts hard. Her hips move backwards before she pulls the toy out completely until only the tip is left

inside her before Alexia thrusts hard into Ona again.

"Fuck-oh god," moans Ona as Alexia starts to fuck her again at a brutal pace so that the bed starts to shake with evers trust. The back of the beds hits the wall. Ona was sure the whole house would hear it.

As Alexia thrusts her hips forward and hits places Ona didn’t even know existed, screams escape Ona as she alternately tries to bury her face in the sheets. “Stop it, I want to hear you; I want to hear you scream my name, fuck.” alexia whimpers

“Please, can i cum?” begs ona and moves her hips in a rhythm with Alexia.

“Cum for me,” she gasps as she pushes her hips further into Ona. Ona tenses up immediately. She lets go and lets orgasm come over her with a scream of Alexia’s name.

Ona twitches underneath her. After a few seconds, Alexia removes herself from Ona’s dripping cunt. With a pop, the cock pops out of her. Ona’s juices are spread on her and Alexia’s thighs. She literally drops her arse cheeks redden, and her legs struggle to hold herself up.

Alexia lets the toy fall off her before standing up and going to her suitcase again. “Turn around and lay down, baby, and open your legs wide. I want to your dripping pussy,” Alexia says with her back turned to ona.

She rummages in her suitcase and pulls out a black vibrator. Ona lies weakly on the bed, her legs wide open, her juices running out of her, her chest rises and falls only weakly, her belly is wet, and her breasts are full of hickeys. Alexia smiles at the sight of her fucked brat.

Alexia scurries over to Ona and lies down between her spread legs. She switches the vibrator on to the middle, and Ona lifts her head to meet Alexia’s eyes. “ Look at you all fucked up, mh?” She taunts and presses the vibrator against Ona’s clit, causing her to squirm. “Sh, stay calm, baby, I’ll take care of you,” Alexia says caringly and brings Ona legs back to her place.

“My little slut, my good girl,” Ona’s legs tremble. her eyes shake in the back of her head. She feels her coming closer. A guttural sound escapes her as Ona comes again.

Ona hopes Alexia will stop, but she doesn’t. “i can’t fuck” Ona sobs. Ona is mixed with pain and tears. Her legs try to close, Alexia pushes her head between them and starts to lick the juice from Ona’s thighs.

“Yes, you can,” assures Alexia, and she licks her thighs mixed with little kisses. “Come again for me, Bonita; you look so pretty.”

As if on cue, Ona’s body tenses under Alexia one last time fluid pours out of Ona as she squirts over the vibrator and Alexia’s mouth

A series of screams echo through the room. Ona’s hips jerk around wildly until Alexia sets up the vibrator and puts it aside.

“Shh, baby, you were so good. I’m so proud of you.” Alexia whispers and crawls up to Ona.

“What do we actually do here every time?” Ona asks sentimentally and lies down gently in Alexia’s arms.

“I don’t know. i don’t if i can try.” Alexia says and spreads kisses on Ona’s face. “What do you want to try Ale?” Ona asks and closes her eyes while lying tightly on Alexia’s chest.

“To love you, Alexia says nervously and quickly moves away from Ona. “I’ll get something to clean you up, then we’ll cuddle for a while, okay?” Alexia says and sits up. She makes her way to the bathroom to make a rag with warm water.

a loud knock on the door

“Stop fucking yourselves and come play Fifa, my god,” yells Jenni from the other side of the door.

Fuck