#can you tell I’m still getting the hang of shading

[just-rainbow-thoughts]

*puts leshy in the shrek outfit instead of the maid outfit* I’m nothing like y’all 🐠

[d1stalker]

Suspension Bridge Effect [Logan Howlett]

Summary: You saved one of the younger mutants during a mission, and now he's obsessed with you, much to Logan's dismay

Warnings: mainly Logan POV, jealousy, cuteness, fem!reader WC: 2.6k - MASTERLIST

----

Logan’s losing it; his thoughts are spiralling to the point where he wonders if he should be locked up.

At least, that’s what he thinks is happening as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. You’re standing near the edge of the mansion's garden, laughing softly as the kid—Johnny, a younger teenage mutant—tries to hand you a bouquet of hastily picked flowers. His face is flushed, eyes wide with admiration, and he’s practically vibrating with nervous energy as he looks up at you.

This punk, this moron, this lovesick blockhead, has been glued to your side ever since you saved him during the last mission.

It was supposed to be a standard run-of-the-mill rescue operation, but when things went south, and he was cornered, you swooped in like the hero you are and got him out unscathed. Now, the kid’s been following you around like a lost puppy, trying to win your attention, your approval—your everything. And it’s infuriating.

Logan can feel his hands clench into fists as he watches Johnny offer you the worst attempt at a bouquet he's ever seen, and sees the youngster's face turning a deeper shade of red as he mumbles something the older man can’t quite hear. Probably some dumb compliment, he thinks bitterly. The kid’s got no game.

You smile at Johnny. It's that soft, kind smile that always makes Logan’s heart skip a beat. But this time, all it does is fuel the fire raging within. He knows that smile isn’t just for him, but damn it, he wishes it were.

He wishes you’d tell the kid to scram, that you’re already spoken for, that you have a lovely boyfriend who could put together a way better bunch of flowers, but instead, you take the flowers with a gentle laugh, thanking the goblin like he’s just handed you a priceless treasure.

And somehow, the torment is never ending, it seems. Because later in the day he find’s himself lurking at the doorway of the mansion library, watching as you and Johnny sit together, heads bent over some book he know knows the little gremlin is just pretending to be interested in. That brat is soaking up every second of your attention, hanging on your every word, and it’s driving Logan up the wall.

“He’s just a kid,” you keep saying whenever he grumbles about it, but you don’t see it. You don’t see the way the bastard’s eyes light up whenever you smile at him, or how he leans in just a little too close when you’re explaining something to him. You don’t notice the small touches—the way his hand lingers on your arm when he’s pulling you somewhere, the way he looks at you like you’re the centre of his universe.

Logan sees it all, because he’s been there before. He knows exactly what Johnny’s feeling because he felt the same way when he first met you. Still does. It's that intense, all-consuming crush that makes you do stupid things just to be near the person you can’t stop thinking about.

“Logan, you’re staring,” Jean’s voice cuts through his thoughts, and he turns to see her smirking at him from across the hallway.

“I’m not starin’. Just keepin’ an eye on things,” he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You’re jealous.”

He scowls at her. “I ain’t jealous of some kid.”

“Sure you’re not,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Why don’t you just talk to her about it?”

Clenching his jaw, he knows she’s right but not wanting to admit it. “She doesn’t get it. She thinks it’s cute.”

“Maybe if you told her how you’re feeling, she’d understand,” Jean suggests gently, though there’s a knowing look in her eyes.

Huffing and turning away from the library, Logan has decided that he’s had enough of standing on the sidelines. He needs to do something before he loses his mind entirely. But it seems he can’t escape this torture, because he can’t even get five minutes alone with you.

He tried to get your attention after you finished up teaching your class, but before he could, the little devil ran in front of him and got it first. His eye twitches as he watches Johnny offer you another “gift,” this time a poorly folded paper crane. You take it with a smile, thanking him kindly, and Logan grits his teeth so hard he swears his molars might shatter.

“Hey, kid,” He grumbles, stepping forward with a growl in his throat that would send most people running. “Don’t you got somewhere else to be?”

Johnny looks up, momentarily startled by the sharp tone, but then just gives a nervous chuckle and scratches the back of his head. “Uh, no, sir. I was just, um, hanging out with her.”

“Yeah, well, she’s got things to do. Don’t you, darlin’?” Logan’s eyes flicker to you, hoping you’ll catch the hint and send the kid on his way.

But you don’t. You just laugh. A musical sound that makes him want to clamp his hand over your mouth because why should that devil's spawn get to hear your beautiful voice? He’s truly about to lose it. 

“It’s fine, babe. Johnny’s just being sweet.”

Sweet. Logan wants to snort. Sweet is one word for it. Obnoxious, irritating, and clingy are a few others that come to mind.

“You got a crush or somethin’, boy?” His tone is laced with a dangerous edge as he crosses his arms over his chest, towering over the knucklehead. He’s trying not to outright scare him, but damn, he’s close to it.

Johnny turns beet red, stammering, “N-no, I just… she saved me, and I just wanted to say thank you, that’s all!”

Narrowing his eyes, a low snarl rumbles from his chest, and Logan takes a deliberate step forward, but before he can do more, you place a hand on his arm, pulling him back.

“Logan, that’s enough,” you say firmly, giving him a pointed look. 

Well, there goes another piece of his sanity.

You’re too kind, too understanding. You just don't get it. To you, it’s just an innocent crush, something harmless, something that makes you smile. You think it’s nothing, and that only makes his blood boil more.

“Fine,” he finally mutters, stepping back, though his eyes never leave the teenager’s. Johnny seems to take that as some kind of begrudging acceptance and gives you another shy smile before scurrying off, likely to find the next token of his gratitude to bring to you.

Once he’s gone, Logan lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is drivin’ me nuts, you know that?”

You just chuckle again, stepping closer to him and slipping your arms around his waist. “It’s just a phase, I’m sure. He’ll get over it.”

Wrapping his arms around you tightly and pulling you in close, he feels a little bit better in your embrace, but his eyes still track where Johnny disappeared into the mansion. “He better. ’Cause if he doesn’t, I might lose my damn mind.”

You tilt your head up, kissing his jaw softly. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

He huffs, not wanting to admit it, but the truth is written all over his face. “Maybe a little.”

Smiling, you lean up to kiss him properly. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Logan kisses you back, a little more possessively than usual, as if to remind himself that you’re his. And even as you melt into him, he can’t help but keep one eye open, scanning the garden for any sign of that kid returning. He might be crazy, but he’ll be damned if he lets some lovestruck teenager get between him and the woman he loves.

—

The next morning, the mansion is buzzing with its usual activity. You and Logan head to the dining hall for breakfast, with him looking a little more relaxed after a night of holding you close. But the moment you step into the room, he spots a certain demon sitting at a table, eyes locked on you as if he’s been waiting for this very moment.

Groaning under his breath, Logan mutters, “Not again,” before guiding you to a table near the windows, hoping Johnny won’t follow.

You take your seat, smiling up at your boyfriend as he pulls out his chair, and for a brief second, he dares to believe that he might actually get to enjoy a quiet breakfast with you. But just as he’s about to sit down beside you, Johnny swoops in out of nowhere, plopping down in Logan’s seat with a grin like he’s just won the lottery.

“Morning!” He chirps, completely oblivious to the thunderous look on the other man’s face.

Freezing in his place, Logan glares at the kid who’s now sitting where he was supposed to be. He mentally cycles through a list of unflattering nicknames—Useless Idiot, Captain Obnoxious, Motherfu—but none of them seem quite strong enough to capture his current feelings. “You’re in my seat, kid.”

Johnny blinks up at him, feigning innocence. “Oh, uh, sorry. I didn’t see your name on it.”

You can practically see the self-control it takes for Logan not to pick the kid up and toss him across the room. His fingers twitch at his sides, his claws itching to come out, but he holds back. For your sake, and only your sake.

“Johnny,” you start, trying to keep your voice gentle but firm, “you do know he is my boyfriend, right? And even if he wasn’t, I’m a bit too, uh, old for you?”

The young mutant's eyes widen, and for a split second, you think you might have gotten through to him. But then he glances over at Logan, his face scrunching up like he’s just eaten something sour.

“Yeah, but he’s, like, hella old,” The idiot blurts out, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as if the mutant standing right there can’t hear every word.

Logan’s expression darkens, a storm brewing in his eyes as his jaw tightens to the point where you can almost hear his teeth grinding. Hella old? Is this guy serious?

He's dealt with all kinds of enemies—mutants, monsters, government assassins—but nothing, nothing has tested his patience like this hellspawn has been. “What did you just say?” he growls menacingly.

Johnny, either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, doesn’t back down. “I mean, no offense, but you’ve got a lot of… uh, experience, you know? And you’re like centuries old. Maybe she needs someone closer to her age.”

That’s the last straw. Logan’s eyes flash with anger and something else—something more vulnerable that you rarely see. A part of him knows the gremlin’s just talking out of his ass, but the words hit a little too close to home, stirring up old insecurities he usually keeps buried deep.

Without another word, he slams his hand down onto the table, the sound echoing through the dining hall like a gunshot. The room falls into stunned silence as he then storms out, his footsteps heavy and his anger radiating off of him in waves. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t acknowledge the whispers that follow in his wake. He just needs to get away before he does something he’ll regret.

“Logan, wait—” you call after him, but he’s already halfway out the door.

You turn back to Johnny, who’s now looking a little less confident and a lot more like he might have made a mistake. Sighing, you lean forward with a serious expression. “You can’t just say things like that. He’s not just my boyfriend. He’s the person I love.”

Looking down at the table, his face falls, and he begins fiddling with the napkin in his lap. “I didn’t mean to make him mad. I just thought—You saved me and I felt something…I thought maybe you’d feel something for me too.”

You soften, reaching out to pat his hand. “Johnny, you’re a sweet kid, but you’ve got to understand that Logan’s the one I’m with, and no one can replace him.”

He nods slowly, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. “I get it,” he mumbles. “I just…”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “You’ll find someone your own age who’s perfect for you. But for now, you need to give us some space, okay?”

Johnny nods again, this time more resolutely. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Just… try not to instigate anything else. I’ll go talk to him.” You give him one last reassuring smile before heading toward the exit.

When you step out into the hallway, you barely have a second to process your thoughts and decide where to look before you’re suddenly pressed up against the wall. A gasp escapes your lips, but it’s quickly swallowed by Logan’s mouth on yours. The surprise melts away as the intensity of his kiss overtakes your senses, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

His kiss is possessive and fierce. You can feel the frustration, the jealousy, the need to claim what’s his, pouring out of him with every movement of his lips against yours. For a moment, you lose yourself in the heat of it, letting the world around you fade as you focus solely on him.

Then, through the haze of the kiss, the practical part of your brain kicks in. You pull back just enough to murmur against his lips, “Logan… we’re gonna get caught.”

He growls softly, his lips trailing down to your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. “Let them see,” he mutters between kisses. “Maybe then that damn dunce will get the hint.”

You laugh, though the sound is cut off as he captures your lips again, his hands gripping your waist as if he’s afraid to let go. “Babe, really,” you whisper, trying to sound serious but failing as your body responds eagerly to his touch. “People are gonna see…”

“I don’t care,” he grumbles, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear, making you involuntarily shiver against him. “Shoulda thrown that little shit out on his ass… let him know who you belong to.”

“You’re jealous of a teenager,” you tease, though the words come out breathless and almost lost in the intensity of the moment.

Logan pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark. “Don’t like him sniffin’ around you, thinkin’ he’s got a shot.”

You smile up at him, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him back down for another kiss. “You don't need to feel threatened by him. You’re the only one I want.”

He huffs softly, his lips brushing against yours as he mutters, “Damn right I am.”

“C’mon,” you murmur, gently pushing against his chest. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private, huh?”

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering back toward the dining hall, as if half-expecting Johnny to come barreling out any second. But then he nods, taking your hand and leading you down the hallway, away from prying eyes. His grip on your hand is tight, territorial, and you can’t help but smile as you follow him.

As you walk together, you give his hand a squeeze. “Logan?”

“Yeah?” He glances over at you, his expression softening slightly.

“I love you, you know that?” You say it with that pretty grin of yours, and the way his eyes warm in response makes your heart flutter.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice quieter now, more sincere. “I love you too.”

The remaining tension melts away, leaving just the two of you walking hand in hand, ready to steal a few more precious moments together.

----

A/N: this was really fun to write!

[mywritersmind]

HIDE YOUR NAME NOT YOUR TEAM - LN4

summary : In which a pretty red head catches Lando’s eye one night in mexico, a rude remark and laughable flirting stays on both of their minds. The last thing Lando expects is to see her again in the paddock, while he’s determined to figure her out, she’s determined to hide her name and why she constantly is spotted in orange.

listen up : panic attack, sexual comments, comedy!! lando norris x bosses!daughter.

word count : 5404

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I don’t usually go to these things. But Alexandra convinced me when she said I could borrow her dyson.

“I take it back.” I say as I get my drink, we’re sat at the bar, Charles already gone to find some drivers, “Let’s go back to the hotel! Girls night!” I beg her but she just shakes her head.

“You look too hot for that.” I sigh, I do look hot tonight. I’m in a black mini dress, sheer tights, and knee high boots that are the same shade of burgundy red as my hair.

Just as she says that, Rebecca, Carlos’ girlfriend, comes up to us, “Y/n! You never come out with us!” She hugs me and I smile. I never do but I do like hanging with my girls.

“I had to drag her here!” Alex sips her drink as Rebecca laughs. We’re in Mexico for the grand prix, something I also rarely find myself at.

“Don’t make that face! You deserve a day off.” I sigh, knowing they’re right.

“Alright.” I down the rest of my drink, coughing and turning to the bartender, “Three shots please! Surprise us!”

The girls squeal and as soon as I sit back down, I know it’s gonna be a good night.

I’m multiple drinks in, dancing with my friends, when Carlos and Charles sweep my friends away like it’s nothing.

I scoff, going to walk off the dance floor before a man stops me, “Wanna dance?” I almost laugh when I see who it is. I can tell he sees me thinking about it, “I promise I don’t bite.”

⋆༺

LANDO NORRIS

I noticed her when she was dancing with some guy who was out of his mind wasted. I saw her hair first, a dark cherry red with messy waves.

I don’t know if she’s here with friends but I do know that I want to know more.

She’s staring at me like i’ve just asked her to do a backflip, “Uh… no.” She shakes her head and walks straight past me.

What the fuck?

I haven’t had a girl reject me in a long time, but it’s not unheard of. Still, something about her is telling me to not give up.

“Wait! I’ll buy you a drink!” I hurry after her, she’s flipping her hair over her shoulder and eyeing me, “Please?”

“Please?” She laughs, “You can’t find any other girl besides me?” She hops up onto a bar stool and I lean against the counter, staying close.

“Maybe I don’t want to.” She narrows her eyes at me. “I’m Lando.”

“Yeah, I know.” This surprises me.

“Oh! Well then you know I'm not a creep, so you’ll let me buy you a drink?” She crosses her arms, she seems to be assessing me.

“Fine.” I get her a dirty martini and water for myself. “Thank you.”

“I’ll always be down to buy a pretty girl a drink.” I smile as she sips her drink, “I never caught your name-”

“Mhm…” She looks around the club, obviously not interested in what I have to say.

“Okay, Red.” She doesn’t even flinch at the nickname, “Why are you in Mexico?”

She hums, “Family.” she lets out a long breath.

I frown at her lack of interest, “That’s fun. I’m racing here this weekend.” She doesn’t respond, “Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I promise I'm not like whatever shit magazine you read.”

She looks at me after that and I immediately know I fucked up. Except instead of throwing her drink on me, she just laughs, “God, you’re an asshole.” And with that, she walks away.

⋆༺

YOU

Lando Norris hitting on me was not something I expected from that night.

But it immediately became worse once I remembered why I was in Mexico.

“Sweetheart!” My dad hugs me tight. Zak Brown is a lot of things but a shit dad isn’t one of them. He’s in all orange, contrasting my white dress. I smile as he pulls back, “I’m so happy you’re here!”

I have gone to four grand prix’s in my life. It seems a bit odd for someone who’s father is there almost every weekend, but we had a deal. I was a sort of trouble child, more in my teens when I wanted more freedom. I took some years off of school but I realized what I was wasting and got right back into college.

My dad said I couldn’t come to a grand prix until I finished school. I was annoyed at first, who wouldn’t want to spend their weekends partying with rich people and flying on private jets? But I sort of fell in love with my studies in fashion and had no time anyway.

But I recently graduated and am back in my papaya fathers reach.

“How are you doing? Excited to be back?” I nod as I walk up the paddock with him.

“Very! I’ve missed everything, especially my friends.” He smiles and I’m happy I can make him do that in public.

“I’m so proud. Oh!” I see my nightmare in neon and freeze, “Come meet one of our drivers, he’s a bit like you, I think.” My dad looks back at my frozen position and frowns.

“I forgot I have to grab food with Lily! New friend duties, right! Remember how happy you are that i’m making friends!? Bye!” I turn around and run.

I end up meeting up with Lily because as soon as I heard myself say it, I suddenly really wanted to see her. Lily isn’t new to the paddock, but I’ve only met her a couple times. We follow each other on instagram and have DM’d multiple times.

After our taco and gossip session, practice started and I know I should be watching, but I want to explore more. So instead, I walk around the Paddock alone.

I seriously missed this environment. One of my favorite memories from when I was a kid was my dad walking me around the paddock. I love the hustle and bustle of the paparazzi, fans, and drivers.

I also love the quiet in the paddock while the cars are on track. I make it back inside, finally finding a bathroom and after fixing my hair and makeup, I wander more halls.

I don’t want to admit I'm lost, but I definitely am. I’m about to call Lily and Rebecca but realize I am a strong independent woman! That and I'm a tad embarrassed.

I turn yet another corner and see the worst person for this situation. I realize he hasn’t seen me yet but when I go to turn he eyes me, “Red?” He looks genuinely shocked and I'm even more shocked that he remembers me!

I laugh awkwardly, not knowing what to say. He’s in his race suit, sweaty, and way too good looking with it unzipped. He runs his hand through his curls, has he always been this attractive?

Sorry! Dickhead. I don’t like this man. He’s an asshole.

“What the fuck?” Is all he can say.

“Hey!” I smile, “Thanks for buying me that drink the other night…” When I left him at the bar, I did not think about the whole MY FATHER IS HIS BOSS thing.

“What are you doing here?” I hide my paddock pass behind my back, “Seriously. You’re not some stalker are you?”

I roll my eyes, “No but I am lost.” I can’t ask him to point me to the Mclaren garage because then he’ll ask why so I go for the next best thing, “I’m looking for the ferrari garage!” I need to text Alex right now.

“I’m still confused- you said you were in town for family.” Fuck my life.

“Yeah! Well… Alex is like family to me! And she invited me. Alex as in-“

“Charles’ girlfriend. Yeah I know.” He moves his water bottle from one hand to the other, stepping closer. “But, why would I help you if you think I'm an asshole?”

Okay. Good point.

“Because you think I'm pretty?” I smile and I can tell he’s biting back a laugh. “And because you were being pretty cocky!”

He nods, “Fair enough. Come with me.” I didn’t expect him to give in so easily.

“Hey, why were you in here anyways?” He shrugs and keeps walking for a bit before answering.

“Needed a breather.”

I nod, walking with him in silence, he opens the door for me and the sun hits up straight on. “So… how's the whole driving thing going?”

He glances at me, “It's alright. Quali tomorrow.”

“Good luck. Although I kinda hope you don’t get first.” He raises a brow. “I’m a big Piastri fan.”

He looks genuinely hurt, “I didn’t even think you watched.”

I frown, “Why wouldn’t I? I mean, I'm here.”

“Yeah but you… nevermind.”

I stop, turning to him, “You have to tell me now!”

He grins, looking away and continuing to walk, “You just didn’t have a reaction when I hit on you.” I scoff, “I know, I know! Dickish.”

I can’t help but laugh, “Honestly… fair enough. If I looked like you with the whole famous rich thing. I’d be pulling left and right.”

He eyes me, “So you think i’m attractive.” My face drops and I look ahead, “Hey it’s okay we already know I think you’re hot!” God if my dad ever heard this…

“Just shut up.” He does.

Until he doesn’t, “You really a big Oscar fan?”

I’m happy that I got under his skin with that one, “What if I said I liked Verstappen more?”

“I’d leave your lost ass right here.” Lando says it so serious that all I can do is laugh. He looks proud after I look at him again. “Seriously though.”

“Ferrari girl through and through.” He rolls those gorgeous green eyes of his, “McLaren might be second best though. Plus that Colapinto kid…”

He rolls his eyes, “You can’t like Franco more than me.”

“What, you jealous?” He points to turn and when we do, I see the garages in view.

“Gonna give me your name yet? Or am I sticking to Red?”

I pull his same move and avoid the question, “Thanks for showing me back.”

“Is it bad I like it when you’re mean to me?” I groan and walk away, “Bye, Red!”

“Later, Norris.”

⋆༺

“He doesn’t know who you are!?” Lily and Alexandra scream at the same time, we’re sitting in my hotel room when I called an emergency girls meeting. Except Rebecca is with Carlos to celebrate a little after his pole.

I cover my face with my hands, “But why does it matter!?”

“He’s obviously is hot for you.” Alex shrugs as Lily laughs, rolling onto her back.

“Babe, No wonder he’s so interested in you! I mean- besides the fact that you’re hilarious and drop dead gorgeous- he definitely is intrigued.”

I shake my head, “More like plotting to get me back for calling him an asshole.”

“Wait! You called him an asshole!?” Lily laughs even harder, “I love you!”

“Genuine question though… why don’t you go for it?” I stare at Alex as if she has two heads.

“Go for it!? Lando Norris?” She nods, “No way! Besides the fact that my dad is his boss, he’s way too cocky, and he doesn’t even know my name, I still wouldn’t go for him.”

“That’s kinda part of the appeal.” Alex shrugs, “What!? He knows nothing about you but thinks your hot! Seems like enough to me.”

We end up crying laughing, the conversation straying from Lando and to all the on track drama.

⋆༺

I’ve been avoiding the McLaren garage like the plague. I was there this morning but stayed on Oscar’s side. After meeting him, falling in love with him (platonically of course), and seeing that Lando was completely locked into Qualifying, I took my first breath of calmness.

The boys went out and I popped over to talk to Pato. Quali was over way quicker than I expected, After Oscar’s P17 a weird energy was in the garage and as soon as I saw Lando’s car, I was out of there.

What game am I even playing? Maybe it’s a little hot that he doesn’t know who I am… I don’t know why. Plenty of people have bugged me because of who my dad is, but Lando doesn’t need extra grand prix tickets or me to spot him money.

I find myself in a large room, it’s filled with chairs and a couch facing them. I grin immediately, how the hell is this just open?

I obviously am going to take my chance and pretend to be a talented man! The couch is not as comfortable as I expected and I almost fucking jump off of it when someone walks in.

He's breathing heavily and I recognize something’s wrong immediately. He’s pulling off the velcro of his race suit, unzipping it and pacing. “Lando.”

His head shoots up immediately, just staring at me, “Fuck Red, why are you everywhere?” His breath is labored and shaky.

I stand slowly as he slides down the wall, pulling his knees to his chest and leaning his head back. I’m confused because he seemed fine twenty minutes ago. P3 was not bad especially for where they are right now.

I start to say something but he just shakes his head, “I can’t.” He points to his throat and I realize he can’t breathe.

“I like your hair.” I say quickly, he looks so shocked when he looks up at me, “You look really good with it.” He keeps breathing heavily.

“Huh?”

“Although, you should ditch that fuck ass hat.” He tries to laugh but he’s still struggling. I slowly sit in front of him, “Seriously, who told you to wear that?”

“I- I have to.”

I roll my eyes but my hands are shaking. I’m not a stranger to a panic attack and seeing it happen to someone in front of me is a little scary, “Free will? I mean we all know you have it with the amount of times you whip out your middle finger.”

He laughs again, breathy, but his breathing seems to be getting slower.

“You definitely have free will.” he chokes out, “Saw you- today. Flirting with Lewis.” He got me there.

“Okay! Have you seen him? Who wouldn’t!?”

He shakes his head, “He’s way older.”

“Some people might find that hot.” He side eyes me, “Don’t worry I'm still into guys my own age.”

He’s smiling, nodding. We stay silent for a moment, his head resting against his knees as he catches his breath. He finally slides his legs out in front of him and I scoot next to him.

I tap my neck to ask for permission and he understands immediately, nodding. My hand slips to his neck, feeling his pulse.

“I used to have panic attacks a lot last year.” I explain as I feel his heart underneath my touch. He doesn’t say anything, just looking into my eyes. I swallow, “Your heart is going crazy.”

He doesn’t miss a beat, “Yeah I don’t think that’s because of the panic attack.”

I give him a look, “Seriously? Even in distress you’re a flirt.”

He licks his lips, “You’re good at calming people.”

“All I did was talk, not that hard.” My hand is still on his neck. “Are you okay?”

He swallows, looking away just as I drop my hand back to my side, “Mhm. Thank you.” His hand goes to mine as if it’s nothing. I’m shaking. He rests his head against the wall, closing his eyes, and squeezing my hand. “I think I owe you another drink, Red.”

⋆༺

It’s not until after more press and the conference is over, when Lando finds me again.

“Let me buy you dinner.” I raise a brow, “Come on, as a thank you.”

“You already said thank you.” I sip my water as he frowns. He’s out of his race suit and into jeans and a McLaren shirt.

“Just let me take you out.”

“Are you feeling okay?” I reach up and press the back of my hand to his forehead, “Oh no! Seems like you have a case of aiming high.” He mocks me as I cross my arms.

“Red, If you’re that high, I'll take my McLaren rocket ship and meet you.” I laugh at his words.

“A bit late on the whole rocket ship thing.” He sighs.

“We’ll have fun. Please. Why not?” He goes through five emotions in two seconds.

“You’re sinister, evil, and orange.” My eyes stray who who’s also orange and walking quickly up to us, “Shit.” I don’t mean to say it out loud.

Lando turns around quickly, then back to me, “Don’t tell me you’re scared of Zak. I’ll introduce you-”

“No! I’m not! I gotta go!”

“Wha- Red!” I walk away so fast that I don’t see the man rounding the corner.

“Y/n?” Oscar looks at me confused, “Alright?”

“Hi!” I quickly move past him but he follows.

“What’s wrong?”

“Lando is trying to introduce me to Zak Brown.” I say simply as we turn another corner and Oscar frowns.

“Zak Brown as in your dad Zak Brown?” I look at him, nodding. Then he laughs, “He doesn’t know who you are?”

“Nope. Sort of a long story but I'm in too deep now.” I cross my arms and he starts laughing harder.

“I’m completely here for this- Just one question though… how the fuck does he not know who you are? You’ve been in the garage.”

“He’s blind and I'm a mastermind?” I shrug and of course, Lando finds us.

“Red! No!” He groans when he sees Oscar, “Osc, Don’t convert her into a you fan i’m trying so hard to get her to like me!” Oscar laughs harder, covering his mouth and looking at me.

“I don’t need to be converted! I’m already an Oscar fan!” Lando frowns as I shake my head.

“Don’t worry mate, everyone’s an Oscar fan.” He pats Lando on the shoulder before leaving. “See ya…” I can tell he’s about to say my name but he stops himself.

Lando narrows his eyes at me, “He knows your name?” I bite my lip and walk away. “Hey wait! Any thoughts about tonight?”

I glance back at him, “Don’t you have a race to be preparing for?”

He smirks, catching up to me, “Wanna know my pre race ritual?” I push him away from me, “I’ll give you a hint.” He winks and my stomach does a weird flip.

“You’re never gonna stop, are you?” I place my hands on my hips, looking up at the man.

“Tell me to, and I will.” I stay quiet, his eyes meeting mine and the corner of his lip quirking up. Someone calls his name but his eyes stay on me, smiling. He leans down and taps his knuckles against his hand, “Bye, Red.”

⋆༺

Although Lando has been running around my head, I still have other duties besides being flirted with. I’m at dinner with my dad, it’s been a while since it’s been just the two of us. And I will say, I missed it.

He’s busy and obviously distracted but i’m grateful for any time I get with him. We’re in the Paddock but everybody is gone except for a few engineers and workers.

“Tell me about your weekend! I haven’t seen you much in the garage.” He takes a bite out of his salad, looking down at his texts.

“I’ve been around.” I shrug, drinking my lemonade, “It’s good to be back. But I have been sneaking off with my friends a bit…”

He smiles, “I’m glad. Even if you aren’t cheering us on.” I laugh, “You will be watching from the garage tomorrow, though.”

I nod, “Yes yes, I know.”

We get into a conversation about the issues with my apartment and how he thinks I should move back home. I get the feeling that he’s worried about tomorrow and suddenly wonder if he’s like this every weekend.

My dad gets a call which ends our dinner early, “I gotta grab my bag then I'll head to the hotel.” I kiss him on the cheek and make my way to the garage.

There’s a few people hanging back, some looking at screens and someone laying on the floor, looking at Lando’s back wing.

I grab my purse, rummaging around in it to make sure my phone is there. “You sure you’re not stalking me, Red?” That damn voice makes me jump.

He's sitting on the floor next to his own car, his arms and black shirt dirty. Was he… fixing his car?

I raise a brow, “What are you doing?” He takes the rag next to him and wipes off his hands, standing up.

“What are you doing?”

I cross my arms, “Stealing information for ferrari.” He smirks, shaking his head and walking past me to grab his water.

“Instead of having dinner with me? You need to sort your priorities out.”

I flip my hair over my shoulder, “Do you work on your own car often?”

“I can’t do much but I do like to see how it looks.” He shrugs, leaning against the wall and glancing at the people working, “You seriously not gonna tell me who you know at McLaren? You obviously have an in.”

He waves to the people who are packing up and walking out. We are now alone.

I hum, knowing there’s no chance I'm about to tell him who my ‘in’ is. He laughs a bit, “Alright, stay mysterious. Wanna sit in it?” I almost think I didn’t hear him correctly.

“What?” He nods, standing and walking over to his car, “Come on, don’t tell me you’ve already driven one or something.”

I smile, shaking my head and walking towards him, “No. I used to kart but I’m actually shit at it.” He laughs, beckoning me closer. “Won’t you get in trouble for this?”

He brings his finger to his lips, shushing me as I stand in front of him, “Okay put your foot here,” he points, “And hold onto this.” He points again and I do as I'm told.

I hate to admit it, but I am quite clumsy. When I slip a bit, his hands go to catch me instantly. Thank you driver reaction practice.

He lifts me down into the seat, his hands regretfully leaving me. I look up at him, “For once, you look tall.” His smile drops, leaning over me.

“You’re one to talk.” He scoffs and starts pointing at things. I try to listen but his hand is right in front of my face and I’m genuinely surprised how much I don’t know.

“You’re so far down.” I hum, holding my hands out as if I'm driving, “My back already hurts.” He smiles and kneels next to me.

“You look good in here. Seems like a complete hazard though, even if the car isn’t on.” I tilt my head up to look at him. A curl is falling perfectly in his face. “I didn’t wear the hat as much today, what’d you think?”

I smile at the fact that he listened to my bullshit, “How are you, by the way?”

He nods, avoiding my eyes and messing around with something on the car, “Fine.”

“So the whole panic attack thing was just for fun?” He eyes me, biting his lip.

“Thank you again, It was kinda embarrassing but you made me feel better.” I chew the inside of my cheek, smiling softly at his expression. He looks tired, but a big step up from earlier.

I’ve seen Lando a million times. He’s on posters, all over my feed, in my dads photo dumps, billboards, ads… But none of that can compare to the real thing.

He shoots up so fast that I’m about to laugh and ask what he’s doing, but he starts talking to someone. “Lando!” It’s my dad. Alarm bells ring in my ears as my hand goes over my mouth. Okay. He can’t see me, I know that at least. “I thought you’d already left!”

Lando laughs awkwardly, I think he’s standing in front of the car now. “Uh! Wanted to make sure everything’s good with the car. Guess I lost track of time.”

I hear my dad laugh, rummaging around, “Get some sleep, kid.” I think we’re in the clear until I hear sneakers squeaking, “You haven’t seen a girl come in here, have you?”

My heart rate skyrockets as Lando clears his throat, “Nope. But I've been pretty distracted with the car.”

“Alright well… I have someone to introduce you to tomorrow! Get some rest and drink water!” The door shuts and I hear Lando sigh heavily.

I stand up and messily get out of the car, “I thought for sure I was dead!” Lando says, running a hand through his hair and shivering, “Sorry about that.”

“No worries! I don’t want to get you in trouble though so I should go…” He nods, looking a bit disappointed.

“Want me to walk you out?” I can’t help but smile softly at the soft way he says it.

“I know my way, Thanks though.” I grab my bag, thanking god my dad didn’t see it before, “Rest up.” I mock my dad as Lando chuckles.

“With you on my mind, that’ll be difficult.” I pretend like my cheeks aren’t on fire and open the door.

“Dream about me, then.”

⋆༺

The party environment of the Mexican Grand Prix is all I needed today. I’m in a white dress with marigolds embroidered at the bottom, a flower in my hand from one of the people who are painted.

I laugh with Rebecca and Alex as we walk through the paddock, their boyfriends already getting ready for the drivers parade.

I haven’t told them about last night. I mean, what is there to tell? I swipe my lipgloss on, checking my makeup in the reflection of Rebecca’s glasses.

“Is Carlos nervous for today?” I ask her as she smiles at his name.

“I think so, but I’m really hopeful for a good result.” we continue walking, “Hopefully I don’t jinx it.”

“Hey, Y/n.” Alex nudges me, “Someone just arrived.” She winks as we all turn to look at the Paddock entrance behind us.

Lando Norris.

He’s wearing a Quadrant crewneck and a big smile. He signs something for a tiny fan and hurry’s past the photographers.

He almost walks past us, but he does a double take. He looks happy, I’m glad. “Rebecca, Alex.” He doesn’t stop walking as he politely greets them. His eyes meet mine and his expression changes, “Hey, Red.”

I smile softly before he turns and practically runs away, “Yup! He’s in love.”

I swat Rebecca’s arm as she laughs, “Goodbye!”

“No!” Alex laughs, “Come get coffee!”

I shake my head, “I told Pato I would grab breakfast with him, I’ll see you later!”

I smile at the two of them as they wave and we split up, me going to McLaren and them to Ferrari.

⋆༺

Breakfast is good, we watch the drivers go around and laugh at George who is shivering like a leaf. I say goodbye to him as soon as the drivers parade ends.

I need to see my dad before the craziness begins. “Dad!” I smile as he sits on the pit wall.

“Sweetie!” He smiles and waves me over, letting me sit with him.

“Ready for today?” I ask as he looks over data.

He nods, “Definitely!” He crosses his fingers and I smile, looking over the data with him. He knows I have no clue what we’re looking at so he explains it to me.

I lean in to look at the tiny words when my dad gets distracted, “Oh!” I hear him say but i’m trying to decipher this code still, “I have someone for you to meet!” I’ve met a million different people this week so I smile and stick out my hand like usual, “Lando! This is my daughter Y/n.”

I stare at him. His smile drops for a second, then a look of panic washes over him before he takes a breath and shakes my hand.

“Nice to meet you.” I almost whisper it. He’s looking at me and I feel like I'm about to get swallowed whole.

His face contorts again, he looks like he’s finally cracked me, “Pleasure” My dad looks away and Lando takes that second to narrow his eyes, a smirk still on his face.

I drop his hand as my dad looks at us again, “I think Y/n has been avoiding the garage! I would have introduced you days ago!”

Lando’s jaw ticks, “Not a McLaren girl?”

I can’t help but smile, “Ferrari through and through.”

My dad shakes his head, “Don’t mind her odd preferences…” he’s about to say something else but gets pulled away by someone in orange.

Lando just looks at me, my cheeks hot as he examines me. I expect him to be mad, but he just smiles, “Y/n, huh?” I nod shyly, “It’s pretty. It fits you.”

“Okay! Lan you gotta go!” My dad claps a hand on his shoulder, dragging him away.

“Good luck!” I say quickly as he shoots me a devious look. I take a breath I didn’t know I was holding in, and watch him leave.

⋆༺

The race has me on the edge of my seat for all 71 laps. I accidentally gasp way too loud at Lando being pushed off track and maybe start clapping when it’s announced that Max got two penalties.

The whole time I have a feeling that Lando will be on that podium, but definitely not in third.

My manifestation comes true when Charles goes off track and Lando zooms by.

Ten laps to go and I don’t think I've taken a deep breath in twenty. But the moment Lando passes the finish line, the garage claps and I sigh in relief.

I hug my dad but I watch the podium ceremony from the side, smiling as the boys get sprayed with champagne while laughing.

I see Rebecca with tears in her eyes and when I look back to the podium, I see Lando looking at me. He's grinning, holding his bottle of champagne and pouring it into his mouth before winking at me.

If he’s still acting like this after he found out my dad is his boss, then I am unexplainably screwed. And I couldn’t be happier about it.

After the podium, I walk back to the garage, but Lando catches me first, pulling me into a hidden area. He’s soaked in champagne and grinning like an idiot, “Have fun out there?” I ask, crossing my arms.

He nods, “Think i’m cool yet?”

“A bit… maybe when I watch you win.” His smile grows, his chest rising and falling quickly.

“Go out with me.” I laugh at his words, “For real this time! Y/n.” He says my name like a prayer and I never want it to stop.

“I guess I sort of owe you.”

He nods enthusiastically, “Y/n Brown. What a name… I knew you had an in!”

I shake my head, “I’m sorry. But it was fun messing with you.”

He sighs in defeat, “I feel much better that I know who you are. Although I almost passed out when the words ‘daughter’ left Zak’s mouth!” I laugh with him, champagne dripping down his curls still.

“You did really well today.”

He bites his lip, “Think of how much better I'll do knowing you’re screaming my name in the garage.” I swat his arm but he swerves and plants a kiss on my cheek.

My jaw drops as he pulls back, “I’ll pick you up tonight!” he starts walking away, backwards, “I’ll text you!”

“You don’t even have my number!” I yell after him but he just winks and blows me a kiss. Just as I turn back around and roll my eyes, I see my dad in front of me, arms crossed as my eyes go wide.

He sighs, looking like he already has a headache, “What the hell did I miss?”

[yeyinde]

Brain went brrrrrrrr

Price and the new 141 member getting into an argument. Price is all like if you don't behave ill take you over my knee girl.

She's all like I fucking dare you or you'll have to catch me first or even you don't have the balls.

🫠🫠

i’ve always wanted someone who was super by the book to clash with John “i routinely tell my superiors i’m going to maim/murder/hang them” Price. this gave me the perfect opportunity to do so. 

noncon spanking. abuse of authority. power imbalance. size kink. mean, dom!Price. forced submission.

You have this way of getting under his skin. 

An impossible itch. No matter how many times he picks and prods at his flesh, you worm beneath the dermis, burrowing deep. Sitting pretty against his goddamn bones. Festering. 

Incurable. 

He turns to vice to stem the irritation. Cigars. Whiskey. His hand shoved down his trousers like he's a fuckin' boy and not a man on the wrong side of forty. 

Thinking of you—of breaking that smart mouth of yours on his cock. 

It's the way you saunter around with your head held high, balancing golden eggs on your crown, that irks him something awful. The patronising drawl when you huffily remind him that what he's doing is breaking seven, no, ten, different laws, Price. You can't just do whatever you want, there are rules—

And that's the crux of it. 

A difference of ideas. Experience. You still see the world in shades of black and white. Good and bad. Unwilling to acknowledge that the line between is saturated and blurred. A putrid muck that traps all. Bogish. 

He knew it was a mistake when they sent him your file, asked if he needed the additional help. Hostage negotiator. He's heard of you. By the fucking book. You recite passages like it's gospel, turning printed words into a knife. A terrible fit for a team that works in the pivotal no man's land you claim doesn't exist. 

Yet—

He takes you on. Brings you in. Buries his anger at your fucking gall deep in his chest where it rots. Grows. Swallows down the rage, apoplectic fury, when you undermine him at every opportunity, citing laws and regulations like it's a fucking prayer. 

A calamitous decision, he knows. Terrible. But—

Despite it all, you're good at what you do. Brilliant. A budding rose germinating in fecund soil. You'll grow into something wild, won't you? Something untamed. 

Under his hands, you'll bloom the prettiest. He knows this deep in his bones. But—

“You're breaking the rules, Captain—”

—pedantic little thing, aren't you? 

Obediently following the wrong master. 

It irks him. He's been known to step on the toes of his superior officers for less, caustic words hissing foul from between his teeth. 

But unlike them, you're worth something. Even as the moral antithesis to his utilitarian dogma, he sees your potential. How you can shape this world dangling on a brittle thread if you lay down your senseless principles and follow him. Listen to him. 

But of course, you don't. 

And he supposes he ought to have known better. It's dripping gasoline over an open flame. The sequence of events is easily premeditated, seen, when you refuse to listen to what he says (“it's against the law, Price!”), walking away from him, his team, the mission, and take matters into your own, morally righteous hands. Bringing his underhanded methods to the desk of your superior officer, demanding he be investigated for crimes. The result is a loose warning from someone in a suit several sizes too big for them, and your fury when he pulls you back, has you assigned to another mission with the 141, with himself. Preens at your glower when you march back into his office, into his hands. 

In the fallout, he has no one to blame but himself, really. Anyone could have seen this coming. But the thing about shirking his morality in favour of a better outcome—above all else—is that he doesn't have to. 

And so, he doesn't. 

No. He blames you. 

(How perfect for him, then, that there's no one on base except you and him.)

“If you think I'm not going to report you again if you do something illegal, Price, you're wrong.”

He scoffs, shaking his head at your fucking audacity. 

"Better watch that mouth of yours, Sergeant, or you won't like what happens next." 

His palm itches when you look up, offering him a slow, feline blink. Leonine eyes creasing at the corners. 

"And what is that, sir? I'm just doing my job—" it's whispered breathlessly, all faux professionalism even as jest leaks down your brow. They pinch, then. Drawing together in a mockery of confusion. "Isn't that what you wanted me to do?" 

"What is that, mm?" He mocks, arms folding over his chest. He has to breathe through his nose for a moment. Gather himself together before he does something reckless, something like— 

It's the defiant little jut of your chin that does him in. That unravels this fraying knot of control until threads slip through his fingers. Falling too fast for him to clench down on them. 

He's threatened his superiors for far less. His kin, teammates. You have no one to blame but yourself for this, really. No one at all when he pulls his hand from where it's tucked under his armpit, curling rough, worn fingers around your wrist. Pulls you close, wrenching you into his chest until your nose bumps the buckle of his vest. 

"'m'gonna take you over my fuckin' knee, is what's going to happen." 

Your swallow is a gunshot. “You—you wouldn't dare—”

He leans in close, closer still. Breath scorching over your cheek. Preening when you bare your little teeth at him. “Wanna bet on that, Sergeant?” 

It's easier than he would have expected to wrangle you over his knee, pinning you down with an arm across your lower back. The height of his chair keeps your front bent, belly pressed against his thigh. Ass seated perfectly in his lap. Precious gem. 

He hums low in his throat, teeth sinking into the butt of his cigar as he locks you tight against him. Grabbing your wrist, twisting it up behind your back. Holding steady. A warning. 

The dangerous twinge in your bone stills you. 

One wrong move and he'd snap it in half. 

This has you taking a different approach, legs falling limp over the armrest. Head dropping over the other side. Malleable in his grasp—however artificial it is.

“Price—” you breathe, winded. Panic on a spindle. “What are you—what do you think you're doing—?”

He hums, mouth tense around the cigar. Words muffled, slurred. “What I should have done a long time ago.” 

“What—hey!”

Your words pepper off into a choked scream when his other hand falls to the hem of your pants, grabbing the fabric in his fist. The shock fades into indignation. Anger. He tastes it in the air as your hips squirm, legs kicking at nothing. Furious little growls spilling from your lips as you thrash, unconcerned by the ache in your bone. 

“Better keep still, love,” he taunts, mouth curling over his teeth as he twists his hand high, higher, up the small of your back until your fingers brush the skin between your shoulder blades. Any more and he'll break it—

“I'm going to fucking—!” It ends on a whine. A whimper. The pain makes you shiver. “Fuck, fuck—stop, stop, ow, stop—!”

“Not a fan of a little pain then, mm?” 

Your breath is ragged. Paints the air in a fine mist of defeat. He has you. The only option out of this is breaking your bone, a threshold no one is willing to cross. 

Price purses his lips back around the cigar, inhaling once, thrice, before he slips his fingers out of the hem of your trousers, reaching up to take hold of the cigar. It's all so matter-of-fact. So nonchalant when he places it in the ashtray. When he brings his heavy, warm hand back to your ass, curling his fingers beneath the fabric. Pulling. Tugging. 

They come off easier than he'd expected. A harsh tug, and the cleft of your ass is revealed. Plush skin curving enticingly as he rips them down to mid-thigh—panties and all. 

The shock fades back into indignation. You hiss something foul under your breath that makes him huff out a chuckle. 

“Not really in the position for that, are you, love?” 

“Shut up—”

He likes the way you sound like this. Feral. Furious. There's ash in your throat. It blots soot around each word, giving them weight. Gone is the woman who barged into his office, sniffing like you smelled something foul. Backing him into a corner. Sputtering in his face about rules. Regulation. 

Now you're bare-assed, panting, in his lap. Small little fawn in the maw of a bear. But oh, do you fight back—

Teeth bared, indignation bleeding into embarrassment, blotting pink in the whites of your eyes.

The sight is hewn into his hindbrain. 

“Look at you,” he purrs, petting your cheeks. “Been beggin’ to be bent over my knee since you got here, haven't you?” 

“Begging? Don't be—ahh!”

He brings his hand down with a small huff, eyes glued to your flesh. Watching it shake under his hand. The width of one swallowing up an entire cheek. So big is he that you're nearly made infinitesimal in his clutch. The thought makes him groan.

You squirm more in shock than discomfort. Head craning over your shoulder, eyes misting over with tears. Glaring at him. 

“What the fuck, Price!”

He strokes your skin, feeling the heat of your flesh bleed through his palm. Resilient little thing, aren't you? He huffs again, blood buzzing. Electric. There's a kindling fire in his guts. Embers sparking, catching. 

He can't deny how badly he's been wanting to have you like this. Craving your tears, your agony, your submission.

“Count,” he barks out, rough. Abrasive. “You're getting ten. Count ‘em for me, and if you miss one, I'm adding two more.”

“You're crazy, you're—!”

His hand comes down again. The impact shakes the fat of your ass. The strike makes you yowl, thrashing to get away. You don't get very far, still trapped in his hold. The threat of a broken bone keeps you from lashing out too wildly, and all you can really do is sit in his lap, and take it—

The notion has him groaning low in his throat. Something wicked spooling in his veins. Wanting. The sight of you heaving, bare-assed, and begging for mercy unleashes something inside of him. Something primal. Starving. 

Price takes a breath to steady himself, head buzzing. Heart pounding. It feels like the euphoria of nicotine—all bliss, sedation. Ease. 

Cathartic. 

“I said count,” he rasps, words cinder in his chest. Smoke. Dragged up from that burning pyre in his belly. Nocuous, hungry. “That's an order, Sergeant.” 

His hand is scorching against your skin. Thoughts turning over themselves as you hiccup in his lap. So pretty, he thinks, eyes flitting over to you. Taking in the sight of your shock, your denial. It tastes like fine wine on his tongue. Heady. 

“Here comes one—”

“One?”

“I told you, didn't I?” His nail rakes across your skin, cruel. Mean. Something preens when you gasp. Your pain perfuming the air. “M’addin’ two more if you don't count. Thought your speciality was listenin’?”

You scowl, twisting back to level him with an awful sneer. “Oh, fuck you—!”

His hand comes down again, harder this time. Vicious. The scream is tangled in your throat, gagged. He feels pleasure—dark and ugly—bloom in his chest, dripping, liquid, down the length of his spine. The twist of agony on your face is beatific. 

“Not gonna count?” He taunts, pinching your inflamed flesh between his thumb and forefinger. “We're gonna be here all day at this rate, love.”

He leans down, broad chest curling over the small of your back, hand cupped possessively over your cheeks. “But maybe you want that, mm? Maybe all this, mhm, insubordination has just been for show. You wanted this. Wanted to be taken over my knee—”

“You're wrong. I haven't—” it tapers off into a squeak when he pinches your flesh again. 

Price pulls back, breathes shallowly through his nose. 

“You and that smart fuckin' mouth. Told you it was gonna get you in trouble—”

He doesn't wait. His hand rears, and comes down with a loud smack that echoes in the sparse office he has you trapped inside. Your howl races alongside it, curling up the walls. Beautiful in all its agony. 

“Christ—” it's a dagger to his resolve. You sound so fucking good howling like this. Oscillating between feral anger and pain, hissing vitriol between clenched teeth. Choking on sobs. 

The first few are experimental. Testing the waters. Feeling. You're combative during it all. Fighting. Screaming. Each strike is uncounted, echoed only with a plea for help. One he knows won't come—

The only person on base is his Lieutenant. Ghost knows better than to barge in on his affairs. 

“No one's comin’, love,” he grunts, sweat beading along his hairline, dripping down his temple. The room heats along with the blood in his veins, stifling and oppressive. He reinforces each hit with more strength, increasing the tempo until you're screaming on his lap, begging for mercy, mercy, please, please, Price stop, stop—

Your skin raises with each new strike. Swelling. Becoming inflamed. The perfect imprint of his handprint sits on each cheek, edges intumescent. The globes shake, shuddering deliciously under each hit. 

He gets to eleven before you break. Tears streaming down your face, voice a threadbare whisper. Hoarse from screaming. 

His hand rains down, slaps your left cheek so hard it stings his hand. Burns. You whimper. Mewling. Squirming on his lap, and then—

“O–one—”

He grunts, feels himself thicken in his trousers. “Good girl.” 

You shudder, body breaking out in goosebumps. “Price—”

“Ah, ah, love. You're not allowed to speak unless you're counting.”

He hits you again, cock throbbing when you tense up, sniffling. Grinding out a soft two between trembling lips. 

You don't break the way he wants you to. There's a glare on your face despite the tears, the sniffles. A defiance that burns over the bridge of your nose. 

But that's fine. He has eight more strikes to ruin you, doesn't he? 

He sets to it with a low moan, your pelvis pressing taut to his tumid cock, the friction raging in his guts. 

But that, he finds, isn't really the point. No. The pleasure, the arousal, is secondary to the way you fall to pieces at his hand. Flesh stinging his palm with each loud smack that rings out sharply in the room. Uneven breaths. Shuddering little ah-ah-ahs that tumble out through clenched teeth. 

It's addictive, this. Therapeutic. 

There's static in his head. White noise. It renders everything else mute. Moot. Molasses drips down, thick and entrenching, congealing over every churning thought in the back of his head. There's a sense of peace, ease, he hasn't felt in years. In decades. 

He feels his belly knot each time your ass jiggles, skin bulging up from the trauma of being hit so harshly. Chafed under his palm. Welts forming in the shape of his hand. A tattoo you'll have for weeks when he's through with you. Aching each time you try to sit. And fuck—

You'll think of him. Of this. Being taken over his goddamn knee like the bad fucking girl you are. Broken in over his lap. Helpless. Submissive. 

The whimpers fade, replaced with shallow hiccups. Your throat is torn. Raw, ruined, by your screams, yowls. Each rasping whine sends jolts of pleasure down his spine. Liquid want molten in his marrow. 

“S–seven, nngh—”

The moan slips out—scorched, bleached—and drills deep into his loins. 

He peels his gaze away from your blistered skin, glancing at your face, but you duck from his view. Hide. Dropping your head over the armrest. Evading him. 

It's new, this. This meekness. 

You were so combative, so feral before. His gaze rakes down the expanse of your spine, over the curve of your cheeks, before settling, hot and heavy, at the crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. You squirm in his lap, thighs sliding together. Rubbing. It's no different from before when he'd spank you, but—

He catches it. 

It glints in the soft light when you move, and he feels something dark, ruinous, curl in the tar-stained fibrils of his chest. Congealing in the crevasses. Hardening. 

Price flicks his tongue out, swiping over his lower lip. The bristles of his beard graze the soft flesh, prickling across it. His throat is suddenly dry. Parched. 

His hand comes down again, notably softer than the other hits he subjected you to. Almost—

Tender. 

This isn't meant to hurt. Not this one. 

He strokes his finger over your skin, cock throbbing with the rasping gasp that spills—a twisted amalgamation of pain, skin still smarting, burning to the touch, and—

His lashes flutter. Nostrils flaring. 

Your slick, wet, between your inner thighs. 

He slides his hand down, down, until your ass cheek is cupped in the bracket of his thumb and forefinger. Nestled tight. A perfect fit. The sight of your skin—soft, so soft—against his bearish, hirsute paw is sickeningly addictive. He grunts, pressing his thumb into the crease between your cheek and thigh. 

“P–Price—”

And then he pulls, moaning deep in his chest as he peels the fat of your ass away, unveiling your cunt to his rapacious gaze. Fuck—

“What’s this?” He taunts, breathless. Pinched. You squirm, trying to press your thighs together. Hiding your pussy from his scorching stare. He doesn't let you. “Gettin’ off on me spankin’ your arse?” 

“N–no, I'm—”

He pushes his thumb up, sliding it over your skin. Gathers your slick on the tip. “Don't lie to me, mm. You're fuckin' soaked.”

The air is punched from his lungs. Spills out in a wretched grunt. In the vacuum, something grows. Knots. Festering inside his chest. Animalistic. Primal. There's an itch in the back of his head. 

He lets go of your arm, knows you won't run. Won't try to escape. No. 

You're a good girl, aren't you? One who does what they're told. Follows orders. It tangles in the soporific slurry of his head, pitching a bivouac of need when you bring your arm down, curling it through the gap of the armrest, holding tight. 

Bracing yourself. 

His hum breaks in his throat. He drags his hand away from your cunt, reaching for the snuffed cigar idling in the ashtray. There's a fever in his veins. It makes his hand tremble. Shake. He needs the blunted drag of nicotine to quench this heady anticipation blooming in his guts. A brumous storm gyring inside him, an incipient maelstrom of want thickening. Intensifying. Threatening to spill over. 

He needs something to steady himself before he tears into you like a beast—

You cock your head over your shoulder, staring at him with eyes drenched in midnight ink. There's a flicker across your tear-stained expression. Something coy. Feline. Leonine. 

There's nothing said. Nothing needs to be. He finds what he's looking for in the fracture of your mien, and scoffs under his breath at your sheer gall. Little fuckin' minx. 

Tobacco proves to be a paltry facsimile when he draws in a bursting mouthful. The restive glow of it dulled under the adrenaline coursing through his veins, heady. Syrupy. A roaring deluge of anticipation broiling in the balmy air, crackling around him like a storm cresting over the horizon. Ozone saturates in the thickening atmosphere. 

Something will break. Shatter. 

He tenses, waiting for the first stormcloud to breach, and drops his hand back to your tender ass. Stroking over the raised welts just to make you gasp. Your hips flex under the shocks of pain riveting down your spine, undulating in his lap. Pitched perfectly over his cock. 

His breath shudders through a needlepoint. The friction is electric. 

In petty retaliation—and just to see you squirm—he trails his knuckles over your heated skin, luxuriating in the way you shiver. Head falling back down over the armrest, beautifully alluring in your vulpine submission. His fingers dip between the cleft of your cheeks, feeling the slickness sticking to your soft, sensitive skin. Soaked between your thighs. Wretched girl. 

His index and middle finger slide over your slit, parting your folds. He feels the small pulses of your drenched hole against his flesh when he slides over it with the press of his fingers. Eager little thing.  

He hums under his breath at the sight of his hand seated across your hand, fingers shoved between the globes of your smarting ass. Soft and tender to worn and gnarled. The cropping of dark hair over his knuckles, his hand, against your bare skin is obscene. The picture of sin with your stricken flesh and his thick veins. The contrast curdled in the back of his head, morphing into something ugly and wanting. 

Idly, he thinks of making you bounce your sore ass on his lap later, your pussy swallowing up his fat cock. Taking it all the way to the root. Over and over again. Breaking you on it until you're begging for mercy, until this little attitude of yours is crushed between his teeth. 

Slick gathers against the rough pads of his fingers, drenching them. The hair on his knuckles is matted down, wet with your arousal. Naughty girl. He'll make you pay for that. 

And for the puddle seeping into his trousers. 

You mewl when he slips, sliding over your clit. The noise spilling molten over your lips, bludgeoning into his loins. 

He drags in another mouthful of smoke. Lets it rot between his teeth as he drops the cigar into the ashtray once more, attention riveting to the slip-slide of your slick thighs rubbing together for friction against your aching clit. Cunt pulsing needily against his hand. 

You haven't learned a damn thing at all, have you? 

Smoke funnels out of his nostrils when he growls. “Spoiled, aren't you? Need to be taught a lesson in respect.” 

“I, ah, am respectful, Captain—” 

He sucks in a breath between clenched teeth. This lippiness of yours grates on his nerves. He wants you begging for mercy, limp in his hold. Pretty doll. Waiting obediently for him to put you back together again. Soft and submissive at his heel. 

“Got three more to go, love.” You shiver when he strokes over your ass. Petting gently with wet, tacky fingers. “If you're a good girl and take it for me, I'll play with your pretty cunt, mm. You'd like that, wouldn't you?” 

Price brings his hand down, grunting when you moan out his name. Sharp and needy. Your plaintive posturing is a spark inside a tinderbox. 

“E–eight.” 

The next one is harder, sharper. The force twinges his joints. Rattles through his bone. 

It's unexpected, and the pain makes you yowl, body drawing tight like a bow. There's no pleasure when it's like that. No friction against your cunt. It's just—

“Price—!” You yelp, shrill and distressed. The lead up to this has been child's play. A soft hand to tender a nervous mare. 

His old man taught him to never strike with the whip first but to wean them slowly. 

He waits, humming mockingly to your pettering whimpers as you heave, tremulous, into the air. Shuddering in his grasp at the aftershocks of agony rippling through your body. 

Waits. Waits. And—

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, cooing low and condescending when you gasp, craning your neck to level him with an imploring, pleading stare as you stammer out a frenetic nine in a breathless rush. Tears soak your lashline, clumping them together when you blink through another deluge pooling against the rim. Your lip wobbles. The stream breaks, spilling over. Fresh tears run down your wet, sticky cheeks. 

There's real panic in the whites of your eyes now. That haughty, pedant gleam buried under pyretic desperation. Gone is the coy twist to your lips. The wily little bloom of amusement in your gaze. 

Aw, poor thing. But—

Too late. “You didn't count. You know what that means, love.” 

That knot in his chest unfurls, and leaks acid into his lungs. This want is corrosive. A poison. The sob breaks through your chest. The first thunderclap. He relishes in it. Leans back in his chair to bask in the potency of your unmaking. 

“Good girl,” he husks out, burning lungs spewing black smoke into the air. “Just ten more now, love. Know you can take it for me, can't you?”

Pretty thing. He'll have that haughty attitude snuffed out before the end of the night. Have you begging for his touch, his cock, him, before the sun draws across the horizon. 

Your ruination at his hand. The thought strokes along the kindling smouldering inside of his chest. Burning away at the pyre he's been building since the day he met you. When you looked up at him, pretty in your scorn, and disobeyed his command. Undermined him. So righteous in your fury. A burgeoning flame he wanted nothing more than to snuff out under his heel, and now—

Wide, wet eyes plead with him. “Please, Price. Please, please. I'll be good—I promise I'll be good, sir—”

—ash in the palm of his hand. 

He strokes over your searing flesh, humming softly under his breath. “I know you will, pretty girl—” basks in the hiccup of relief you let out, lets it glue in his ears, echoing over and over again. So sweet. 

He lets your relief live for a moment. Take its first breath of air through aching lungs—

“But I told you, didn't I? That I'd take you over my knee.” Price pats his hand over your cheek, shushing you when you startle, squirming on his lap. 

“Now. Be a good girl and count for me, mm?”

[socialkid]

Imagine…

You’re a well known actress, and your name is pretty big. Like Zendaya big. And your fiancé Katsuki Bakugou is your pro hero boyfriend. Perfect couple right? No literally you are. He goes with you to all your interviews, tapes all of your auditions, and manages to get on your set AT LEAST one time.

Well recently you got casted in a show about an zombie outbreak. You play a main yet supporting character named Halle, a 19 year old girl who is apparently the only survivor left of her family.

Lucky for you the producer highly respects your boyfriend, and he’s allowed to watch you on set whenever. He sits in a chair the directors provide for him every time you film.

He usually supports you and he’ll peak at you from his phone a couple times, but it’s nothing he’s never not seen before.

Now when Bakugou’s passing by his staff’s cubicles and work area in his angency, and he keeps hearing them discuss about ‘Dead of Night’ (your new show) he’s genuinely intrigued.

Apparently the show’s gon viral. And everyone is talking about it. “Yeah, you haven’t seen it yet? I swear you live under a rock.” pro hero Charge Bolt told him. I mean technically he has watched it, he watched you film it! But now that he realizes, he can’t even spell out the plot.

So one day when Bakugou finds the time, he plops down on your sofa and clicks on your series.

Safe to say he might be intrigued…

Now when he watches he’s locked in. Snacks and all, and if he blinks he’s rewinding. It’s all he watches, he’s so interested in the show and can be considered a piece of the show’s fandom.

Now when you’re filming the show, Katsuki shows up a whole lot less. When the directors yell cut and your eyes pan to his empty chair. Katsuki gives you every excuse under the sun as to why he didn’t show up a certain day. You figured maybe he just got bored watching you film and didn’t know how to tell you, so you shrugged it off. You had no clue he was heavily avoiding spoilers. You didn’t even know he watched your show.

So a couple years pass and your show gets renewed for it’s third season. Unfortunately this season, Halle meets her fate. You recorded your last scene for the show, episode 10. Not a dry eye from the media.

The day your character’s death airs is a tragic day for your fans. Especially Bakugou. Mid way through the show as he slurps his spicy ramen his jaw is floored when your character passes. Noodles immediately discarded back into the cup.

So when you get back home and your boyfriend is quietly laying down on the sofa, watching a corny kids cartoon, you’re lost. “Hey Kats.” You say hanging your coat on the rack as you entered. He only replied with a mumble, something along the lines of “hey how was filmineejdirk”. The room was dim, the shades were drawn, and your boyfriend showed no signs of getting up. Was he depressed or something?

You quietly sat down next to him, glancing at the colorful show in front of him. “Katssss…what’s wrong?” You finally asked. No response. Then he slowly shifted upwards, now sitting up to face you. “Halle died.” He responded. He actually looked fustrated.

You were actually shook, you weren’t even aware that your boyfriend was one of the shows viewers. It sort of made up for him not being at your interviews and filming days.

“I’m sorry baby, but I mean I’m still here.” You said, now opening your arms out to embrace him. He took the opportunity, and pulled you into his arms, leaning back onto the sofa once again.

“I know,” he muttered into your neck, tickling your skin, “Yer not Halle though.”

[rinhaler]

I’m begging you to write a bimbo x Toji fanfic

IM ON MY KNEES PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE IM BEGGING YOU🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

Been in a BJ mood so enjoy some 69ing xoxo

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, bimbo!reader, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby), daddy kink, spanking, 69ing, messy blowjob + pussy eating (duh), head pushing, praise, dumbification, degradation, age gap, exhibitionism ig?

words: 2.1k

“He’s not here, sweetheart.”

The bass of his voice rattles throughout your nervous system. And before you know it, you’re squeezing your thighs together and biting your lip as you look up at him, the way he almost entirely fills the space between the door frame. A slow smirk beginning to play on his lips as he watches you.

You’ve had a crush on your best friends dad since the first time he brought you over to hang out. He didn’t seem particularly interested in you, at first. Not until your skirts got shorter and your tops became skimpier.

“We had plans…” you pout a little, glossy lips shimmering in the afternoon sun. He clears his throat, adjusting his stance a little as he continues to look down at you.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, a little more curtly than intended. “And what plans were those?”

“Mm,” you hum, flicking through your texts to pull up your thread with Megumi. “Wanna hang out on Thursday? I can get us some booze and we can relax around the pool. My dad will be at wor— wait, you’re not at work?”

“Because it’s Monday, baby. Not Thursday.” he laughs a little as he shows you the date on his own phone. “Got a little confused there, huh? He’s at the library with the pink haired one, he ain’t here.”

“Oh…” you pout again. “’m sorry. I guess I should be studying too, I’ll go meet him there. See ya later Mister Fushiguroooo~!” you smile before beginning to skip away.

“Hey,” he calls after you. A grin quickly spreads across your face before you turn to face him again. He kisses his teeth, looking you up and down slower and more purposefully than ever before. He curls his finger, prompting you to come closer. “You’re all dressed for the beach, not the library. You can come in ‘n wait for him here, baby. You even brought your li’l swimsuit in your bag, huh? Come on.” he tilts his head as he walks inside.

You follow him hurriedly, closing the door after yourself when you enter. He doesn’t wait around for you, jogging up the stairs and shutting the door loudly after himself. You huff, wondering what the point of coming inside was if you’re just gonna be waiting by yourself anyway.

It doesn’t deter you, though. You dip into the downstairs bathroom and change into your swimsuit, sauntering outside to set up a lounger so you can at least catch a few rays before Megumi gets back.

You lay back, immediately feeling your skin heat up as the sun burns down onto your still body. There’s a lack of breeze, and the warmth soon becomes suffocating.

But soon enough, the sun disappears. Your eyebrows scrunch at the sudden change, your body plunged into shade and your temperature drops. You open your eyes, your best friends obscenely large father blocking out the ball of fire as he stands above you.

“Here, keep hydrated.” he orders, putting down a fruity looking cocktail filled to the brim with ice by your side. His white, open shirt begins to billow from a brief gust of wind, and he takes his seat with his own drink on the lounger beside yours.

He wasn’t avoiding you after all, he was getting changed.

You lean over, taking a small sip of the cocktail by your side. “Oh shit, that’s so yummy. Did you make it?”

He smirks again, but keeps his eyes closed as he lays back under the shade of his parasol. “Nah, the butler did it.”

“Really?” you ask, excitedly.

He can’t help but laugh at your naivety, turning his head to look at you. “No, sweetheart. Have you ever seen a butler around here? Course I made it.” he tells you, drinking in your bewildered expression as how gullible you are begins to dawn on you. “You ain’t too bright, are ya?”

“That’s—” you speak instantly, but put your drink back down to soak up the sun once more. “Mean.”

“Awe, sorry darlin’,” he smiles at you, but you don’t see it. “At least you’re pretty.”

He angles his head to face the sun, while yours snaps to look at him. You can’t hide your wide, cheesy smile as the words race through your mind.

At least you’re pretty.

At least you’re pretty.

At least you’re—

“You think I’m pretty?” you blurt out, though you feel no shame as the words leave your mouth. It’s the best thing you’ve ever heard another human being say to you in your life. Megumi’s hot dad thinks you’re pretty.

“You’re not that dumb, are you?” he faces you, finally, running his tongue along his top row of teeth. “You’re a gorgeous little thing, that’s for sure. Gonna give an old man like me the wrong idea, walkin’ around in a skimpy swimsuit like that.”

“The wrong idea?” you tilt your head at him. “I dunno what you mean, Mister Fushiguro.”

“Mmm, I betch’a don’t. I love li’l airheads like you.” he sneers. “Or maybe you know exactly what I mean, ‘n you’re just pretending to be dumb.”

You pout again as you think about what he’s saying. He watches you as you try and understand his words, the notion of pretending to be anything utterly perplexing you. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, though he’s a little surprised to see you roll onto your side so you can look at him properly.

“… Are you flirting with me?” you wonder.

“Hah,” he snickers. “You’re really tryna get me in trouble, huh? Would ya like that?”

“… uh-huh…” you nod slowly, biting your lip again. You watch as he smirks at you, adrenaline running through your veins as you wonder where this is heading. Is he simply teasing you?

“Have you got a li’l crush on me, sweetheart? That’s real bad. Remember who I am? Your best friends old man.”

“You’re not an old man,” you try to assure him. But he can only laugh at your idiocy once more. “Had a crush on you forever…” you admit, getting up from your lounger and walking over to his. You decide to take the risk, moving each of your legs on either side of him before slowly lowering yourself.

He bites his own lip, aged scar pulling deliciously as he smooths his hands over the curves of your waist. A grunt rumbles through his throat as you barely move, lightly humping against his stiffening cock.

And in an instant, your bikini is soaked.

You rut your hips more, and more, until he holds you still.

“Wanna fuck.” you whimper, and he starts to tut.

“Mmm, me too. Maybe next time.” he thinks, cock flexing as he imagines the feeling of your tight walls wrapping around him so perfectly. “Wan’ you to put that empty head of yours to good use.” he tells you.

A dazed expression decorates your face as you try and decode what he means. But instead of leaving you confused, he carefully pushes you away from his growing bulge so he can pull out his leaking length.

“Go on, princess. Suck me off.” he tells you.

You’re too astonished by the sight of his cock to even move. A beautiful thickness with a gorgeous curve you can only use as a fantasy for future reference as you imagine it hitting and stretching every spot inside.

He’s amazed that you don’t need to be told twice, however, you soon position yourself to take his length into your salivating mouth. You look up at him with wide, wet eyes as you kiss and suck his tip. Only looking away to spit into your hand, using it to jerk him off whilst you continue to suck like your life depends on it.

He can’t take his eyes off you, even taken aback as you further pull down his beach shorts to free his balls. He’s besotted at the sight of you, completely and wholly lovestruck as you produce enough saliva to completely soak his length, spittle dripping and sliding as it drenches his cock and balls. He winces as you cup them, licking up and down his cock before you suck one into your mouth.

All the while, your eyes are on him. Never before has he felt embarrassed whilst receiving head. But right now, he feels entirely at your mercy. He holds your gaze, though, intent on overriding the feelings of embarrassment as you turn him into a grunting and groaning puddle.

“Fuuuuuck, sweetheart,” he grins, chest heaving as you don’t let up on him. Your fist becomes a blur, and even still, he can’t stop himself from thrusting into your grip. “Pretty little girl… look s’cute with your mouth full’a my cock.”

You moan, at that. The praise overwhelming you enough to release one of his balls from your mouth before you go back to sucking him off. You take him deeper and deeper, as deep as you can take him without showing any signs of gagging.

“Such a good cocksucker for me, baby,” he tells you as he starts to push your head down on him. “Knew that an airhead like you would be a fucking pro.”

“G-Got such a big dick, daddy.” you tell him as you push off of him, desperate to tell him. He drags you up closer to him, kissing you sloppily as your body presses into his. You lie comfortably in his embrace in the shaded spot, moaning into his mouth as you grind down on his cock. “P-Please fuck me.”

“Oh, princess… does your little cunt need daddy’s attention?” he wonders, kissing you again. “Told ya, I want my cock sucked.” he slaps your ass. “Move, go on.” he orders, though despite his instruction, he begins to manhandle you.

You’re soon positioned so you’re practically sitting on his face while his throbbing cock is back in yours. He moves the material of your bikini into the crease of your thigh and gives your pussy a light spank.

“Don’t stare at it, sweetheart. Suck my cock, now.”

You immediately do as you’re told, taking him down your throat while he teases you enough to have you trembling. Touching anywhere and everywhere except where you need him most. Until finally, he places a delicate kiss between your sodden folds.

“Baby, she’s drooling. You really do have a crush on me.” he chuckles. He wastes no more time, after that, burying his face between your thighs and slurping up your lewdness. He moans into your folds before he shoves two fingers into your clenching hole.

His cock falls from between your lips, then, and you moan loud enough for the entire neighbourhood to hear you. He slaps your ass again, and it’s hard. “Shut up.” he warns. “I won’t let you cum if you do that again.”

The warning is enough to make you focus yourself on his pleasure. His mouth is making your toes curl and your head become emptier than even he thought possible. Tears begin to flow from your eyes as you do all you can to prioritise him and keep your moans to yourself.

Your throat tightens and constricts the more you withhold. You can’t control it fully, still humming around him. It’s somewhat calculated, yes. But the thought of being caught or ratted out to Megumi is making him a little more cautious. Then again, if he really didn’t wanna be caught, he wouldn’t be fucking his sons best friend in the backyard.

He pulls away, still curling his fingers into your g-spot as his face shimmers from your sticky folds. “Can’t believe you called me daddy you little slut,” he spanks you. “That’s right, isn’t it baby? You’re daddy’s dumb little slut.”

“Mhmm!” you mewl. “Mmm, mmm, mmm~!” you whine as you begin to unfurl. Your cunt squeezes hard enough to almost break his fingers, though it doesn’t deter him from devouring you whole. He begins to thrust up into your mouth, and he shoots ribbon after ribbon of hot white cum between your drool soaked lips.

Neither of you move, both exhausted from the overwhelming release.

“Wh— Did that just… happen?” you ask, breathlessly.

“Sure did,” he laughs, slapping your ass as he does. “You need to give me your number, baby. I gotta be able to text you when Megumi ain’t home.”

“Hm…” you consider it. “Why would I come over again when Megumi isn’t here?”

“God, princess, you really can’t think why? Daddy wants to be able to split your pussy open on his cock whenever he wants. Don’t want Megumi home for that, do ya baby?”

“N-No…” you sigh dreamily, closing your eyes as you finally move to lie comfortably beside him. “You better fuck me next time!”

“Next time?” he grins. “Megs won’t be home for a few hours. I’ll fuck you in a few minutes, sweetheart.”

© 2024 rinhaler

[pedriscroquettes]

𝐏𝐋𝐔𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ꕥ FRANCO COLAPINTO

summary. a quick pitstop before your brother’s big wedding turns into stolen glances with the new rookie

warnings. my second attempt at an smau with a bit of dialogue! duplantis!reader

gabri speaks. i saw mondo was at the grind prix this weekend and got to work.

liked by desireinglander, yourusername, and 314,678 others

mondo_duplantis quick pitstop before wedding planning 🏎️

tagged desireinglander and yourusername

385 comments

username Y/N AND DESIRÉ!!!!

username hoping y/n will be a bridesmaid for the wedding of the century!

username my two hyper fixations are colliding i am not okay.

gabbythomas they look gorgeous and then mondo’s there

mondo_duplantis and suddenly your wedding invitation got lost in the mail…

yourusername desiré said you’re our new bestie. we love you gabby! 💋

desireinglander best weekend ever with the best company 🤍

mondo_duplantis couldn’t ask for a better person to spend it with 🤍

yourusername haha guys… i’m still here

yourusername ty big bro 🤍

THE BLAZING HOT sun of Austin had you and Desiré finding shade in the Williams garage. The two of you had gone to the bathroom only to get lost on your way back to your brother. Too tired to find your way back you’d sent your location to come find you. Desiré didn’t take long to start a conversation with the people inside the garage.

“Your boyfriend was the one in the olympics with the pole vault? He was sick!” A brunette with a thick accent tells your future sister-in-law.

“Fiancé” You correct.

“Oh! Congratulations!” He yells excitedly bringing a smile out of both of you.

Your brother doesn’t take longer than ten minutes to find the two of you but in that short time you’ve become intrigued with the brunette. You learn he’s from Argentina, that it’s also his first time in Austin, and that he says everything that comes to mind. You also managed to steal a couple of glances here and there admiring the curls on the top of his head. Mondo thanks him for keeping the two of you company.

“Oh, um some of the drivers are hanging out later at a bar. You guys should come?” Franco asks.

“Oh, yes! We’ll be there!” Desiré yells before your brother can say anything.

desireinglander posted on their story | yourusername posted on their story

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desireinglander replied to your story: did he see this yet?

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yourfriend replied to your story: TEXAS GYAL 🤠

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yourusername austin i am inside you

124 comments

username you are so hot omg

username so everyone and their mama was at that bar yesterday…

f1fan you can literally see franco in the back…

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yourusername i blocked him like five years ago 🙂‍↕️

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yourusername i would die for you.

francolapinto commented on your post!

[comment deleted]

THE LOUD REVING of the cars filled the air as you walked around the paddock. Your paddock pass clinked with each step you took. Eventually you found the blue and white garage without getting lost this time. It was chaotic to say the least. Engineers yelling, managers shouting in every direction, and the drivers were pacing around. That is until Franco spotted you from across the garage and offered you the same smile he did when he met you yesterday.

“Got lost again?” He smiles cheekily at you.

“Your team actually invited me today.” You confess.

The both of you covered your eyes as the sunlight opaqued your eyes. His cheeks changed a light hue of red as he explained to you how qualifying worked and how grateful he was to even be here. You can’t help the smile that takes over your face as he tells you about the call he received a couple of months ago telling him he would be an F1 Driver. The two of you converse freely for a while before you notice the camera man pointing in your direction.

“Do they always just record you like that. It’s creepy.” You turn away from the camera as you speak.

“Yes.” He laughs. “But you get used to it.”

The two of you pause your conversation hoping the camera man moves on to the next garage but he stays. This type of situation always happens to your brother but not you. Franco seems to notice the shift in your behavior. He leans down next to you continuing your conversation.

“Are you free later?” He covers his mouth with his hand as he talks into your ear.

“Maybe, why?” You eye him up and down catching a glimpse of his smile.

“I found this restaurant and wanted to go check it out. Would be nice if I didn’t have to go by myself.” Your cheeks heat up at his invitation.

“Franco stop flirting! You need to get in the car!”

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yourusername @williamsracing thank you for the hospitality on and off the track 💙

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mondo_duplantis you’re all grown up sis

desireinglander guessing lunch went well? 🤭

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yourusername check imessages rn.

williamsracing the better duplantis sibling 💙

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username soft launch omg????

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f1fan until november unless franco gets the seat he deserves

mondo_duplantis how come i’m never in your dumps??

yourusername what can i say? the people want desiré

desireinglander and this is why you’re my fav duplantis

desireinglander i wonder who the guy in the second slide is…

francolapinto was lucky to have you in the garage this weekend 💙

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username ME QUITARON AL PIBE 💔

username new f1 couple that i will defend with my life just dropped

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f1fan hey you’re cute

yourfriend OMGGGGG SO HAPPY FOR YOU 🤍🤍

desireinglander I CALLED IT. I’M SO HAPPY. YES. YES. YES!!!

mondo_duplantis welcome to the fam bro @francolapinto

bzrp grande hermano @francolapinto

francolapinto i’m the luckiest guy in the world. te quiero 💙

[sqtorux]

where our blue is

3 years of gojo's blue spring with his best friends and ... you. basically hidden inventory arc with you in it.

it's 2005 and satoru had met you for the first time. you'd heard of him, the strongest. you weren't particularly excited to meet him however that was all for naught when another classmate came along. suguru.

you quickly got close to suguru and he got along with satoru meaning you also got to hang out with satoru. over time though, the three of you became inseparable. satoru's demeanor changed from a stuck up brat to a goofy one. still a brat nonetheless.

somewhere along the way satoru developed feelings for you. he wasn't sure if it's because he was impressed by your technique and perseverance or because everytime you laugh the world suddenly becomes a better place.

he thinks you're very pretty. the way you'd scowl at his jokes, or the way you'd scold him when he got too arrogant or the way you could see through the strong front he put up, like the person he truly was, he loved you. every part of you. he'd die before he'd tell you that though.

“arcade lets go” you felt satoru’s strong arm over your shoulder as suguru trailed behind chuckling at the very obvious display of affection only he seemed to catch on.

“get lost im going shopping with shoko today” you shove him off as satoru clenched his heart dramatically. “oh come on i need my cheerleader!” he quickly rushed to stand in front of you blocking your way.

“no. even if i were to come i wouldn't be on your side” you roll your eyes at him, he only pouted. “why don't you and shoko meet us at the arcade later? we have a mission first anyway” suguru chimed in.

“get him get him!”

“hah you lost!” satoru pointed as he laughed diabolically, throwing a high five at shoko.

as a punishment for losing, “try a smoke” shoko suggested suguru hoping to catch him lacking and choke on it but suguru managed to do it elegantly. as he does everything.

“hm for you, buy me dinner. all i can eat” satoru said triumphantly. and oh it was a punishment alright. “hell no, you inhale food i’m broke” you only scowl at him annoyingly.

“no this is your punishment, you can't refuse” he rests his elbow on top of your head. “annoying ass” you grumble at which he only chuckled.

all you got him was an onigiri and a can of coke from a vending machine. you ran away before he could protest. little did you know though, satoru wanted to have dinner with you alone, as a friendly date between two friends of course.

—

it's 2006 and with the new first years in jjk high, it was more livelier than last year. all of you had gotten pretty close, you especially with a bright underclassman named haibara.

more often than not, you spent your time with haibara chatting away and fooling around which satoru did not seem amused at. not one bit. he'd get more cranky over you but being the oblivious fool you are, you couldn't tell why.

sitting under the shade of the big tree at a park the students frequent, you relaxed after a particularly hard mission. out of nowhere satoru came and sat next to you without a word.

you didn't mind his presence and sat in silence until you felt him tap your shoulder. when you turned however, his finger poked your cheeks and you glare at him menacingly which he laughed at.

“you alright?” he asked as you shook his hand away. “better when you weren't here.”

satoru scoffed “you're definitely okay. i bet you'd prefer it if haibara was here”.

“i do actually” satoru made a face at your words not liking the way you admitted it but he didn't try to move further away, only closer. closer to you.

he leaned in till he was just a breath away. was this it? if he were to take this risk all the way and possibly confess, would you accept him? or would that ruin the friendship he had with you?

as he took his time debating, you snatched his glasses and giggled. “im taking this thanks!” you stood up and ran. ah well, there go his chance.

“hey give that back!” he started chasing you. you ran as fast as you could but you stood no chance against his unnecessarily long legs as they strode over to you.

he grabbed you by your waist and held you in place as you panted, out of breath. him? not so much.

you hid his glasses behind your back but satoru couldn't care less. his heart was hammering against his chest just from the way he held you and how close you are to him. it's like the universe was shouting and telling him to tell you about his feelings. he should have listened.

“hey hey look. i’ll give this back to you if… you buy us ice cream” your voice snapped him out of his own silly thoughts.

“us?”

“mhm. ice creams for suguru, shoko, haibara and nanami. all on you.” you grinned cheekily.

as if in a daze, he nods as you smile triumphantly. you brought his glasses and put it on him. you had to admit, you were glad he had to wear those, his blue eyes were so easy to drown in.

that night, all the first and second years sat on top of the school rooftop watching the stars while eating the ice cream popsicle satoru had brought, only because you asked. life was good.

until it wasn't.

due to a leg injury you had battling a grade 2 curse, your missions were taken by the other students. although you were disappointed in yourself you knew it was the right thing to do. at least you had shoko who was always at the school for healing since she was capable of using the reverse cursed technique.

however things never looked up from there.

when you found suguru's almost lifeless slashed body on the school grounds, the world beneath your feet crumbled. shakily you dragged him out of the debris and took him to shoko. you couldn't even begin to think of what could have happened to satoru or where he could be.

a few days ago, they had left on their mission to defend the star plasma vessel in high spirits. you guys even talked about having a school trip soon after they'd return but none of that seemed plausible now.

as soon as suguru was healed he immediately went away again, mumbling something about getting satoru. you couldn't follow because your leg wasn't fully healed yet. you could only stay behind and pray nothing happens to any of your friends.

when they returned however satoru felt, different. he felt colder, more distant. his uniform was covered in blood. whose blood? you didn't want to find out. that night he just fell into your arms in defeat, still cold, still shivering but still your satoru regardless.

that wasn't the end however.

the following weeks, you had begun to notice how distant geto had become. you'd tried talking to him but he'd brush you off everytime until you eventually stopped trying, but still assuring him you were here if he ever wanted to talk.

satoru was away on missions more and more. your friendship was slowly dissipating as much as you hated to admit it but you understood it was none of your faults. things happen. or that was what you keep telling yourself.

and you yourself had started going on more and more riskier missions on your own after your leg had healed.

as if the surging amount of curses popping up and then getting stronger and stronger weren't enough, you received news that became your breaking point.

haibara. how could it be? he had left with nanami on a mission abroad from which only nanami returned alive. it was hard for you to accept his death. ever since then you started completely detaching from everyone.

“i can't do this anymore” geto mumbled. you just stare at the floor unmoving, unfeeling.

things only took into a worse turn when you found out geto had massacred a village. he'd return particularly late one night and when you asked why, he sighs. “i just killed hundreds of people y/n.”

“why?”

“you know why.”

—

it's 2007 and satoru had found himself crying, begging for you not to leave. after the stunt suguru pulled, he couldn't lose you too. not you. never you.

“suguru is doing this alone satoru” he'd heard your meek voice say.

“what about me?” his own voice was shaking, choking on his tears. it was pathetic but he couldn't care less.

seeing your hesitation he begged more.

“y/n what about me?” he cried.

the way you looked at him, the way your body froze in place it was working. you wouldn't leave him, you'd stay... until you wouldn't.

“im sorry. i don't see the point in staying”

“don't go talking like him!” he screamed. he stood there crying, afraid to take another step in case that pushes you even further away.

“i’ve made my decision. nothing you say or do can change it.” you turn around and walked away.

satoru was speechless. his world paused as everything around him became blurry.

the only clear thing his six eyes allowed him to see was your figure disappearing into the crowd.

i love you i love you i love you

toads on the tip of his tongue. if he'd said that, would you have stayed? this question still haunted him ten years later.

satoru woke up to find the blindfold wrapping his eyes dampening. he chuckled dryly as he stood up from his seat. he was at school apparently napping at an empty classroom.

coincidentally the same classroom he had spent his happiest years in, now bland and quiet.

his students megumi, yuji and nobara had walked inside, bringing life to the once empty room. the trio reminded him a lot of you, suguru and himself, his heart clenches.

“were you napping? don't fall asleep when you called us here” megumi said to him as the other two took turns to sit in his fancy chair he sat in a second ago.

he let out a non humourous chuckle as his memories haunted him.

“what are you laughing about?” megumi asked.

“nothing?” satoru quipped.

it was far from nothing. he missed his best friend and you. especially you.

he'd once told himself he'd die before ever telling you about his feelings for you. how ironic is it that you had to die first and how much did he regret not being strong enough to protect you despite being the strongest.

because what good is it being the strongest if he still isn't strong enough to protect the people he loved.

tried changing my layout this time hehe. the third year is my favourite my poor bby gojo :(((

[nomazee]

“This is unnecessary.”

At Blade’s snide comment, you pull sharply at the strands of his hair in your hands. He grunts in displeasure before obediently quieting down, only a little scared of you scalping him if he annoys you any further. 

Perched behind him on the couch while he sits on the floor, your hands find themselves coming through his hair (long, smooth, untangled despite the fact that you’ve never seen him take a brush to it). Your efforts to part his hair with just your fingers are fruitless. His hair is thick on the top, so much so that you’re surprised his neck doesn’t constantly ache with the weight of it. Your hands pause, resting on the top of his head while you try and figure out how you’ll style it. 

“Be nice,” you warn, two hands on the sides of his head tilting it from side to side, treating him as a foam mannequin on which you can project your very thorough cosmetology skills. “Your fate is quite literally in my hands. I could knock you out and shave you bald very easily.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he says earnestly, and you can’t help the way your lips twinge into a smile. “This is clearly a hassle. My hair looks fine the way it is.”

“It does,” you admit, “but wouldn’t it be nice to try something new? And at no cost to you, aside from mild scalp pain. I’m good at hair. I did Kafka’s that one time.” You fail to mention that it was only one time for good reason. Kafka said that you handle hair the same way a lobster would handle a violin—that is, with clumsy hands and a clear lack of refinement. She had to hide every pair of scissors from you in fear that you'd give Silver Wolf microbangs.

As if on cue, your fingers get caught in an unexpected snag in Blade’s hair, and you pull and tug and yank as if expecting it to untangle on its own. Blade hisses and reaches a hand back to smack you on the wrist, turning around to glare at you. 

“Watch it,” he orders, gentle but firm. There’s not enough heat in his words to scare you, and his eyes are a particularly beautiful shade of copper in the dim, flickering light of this dingy lounge room. Whatever you say, beautiful, you think to yourself hysterically. 

After a few half-willed apologies from you and some nudges of encouragement, Blade finally relaxes enough to turn back around and tilt his head back in your lap, letting your fingers play with his hair nonsensically. A braid, you decide, would look quite nice on him. One long one down the back. If you had ribbon, you’d use some to tie his hair, but all you have is one of Kafka’s tragically thin hair ties. 

“It’s a nice color,” you comment absentmindedly, pretending that you can’t see the way Blade’s eyes have shut in contentment at your gentle prodding. “It changes in the light a little bit. It looks very blue now, but I’ve always thought it was black.” You section his hair off into three pieces, loosely laying one over the other over and over again. The aged gold ornament still hangs securely in his hair, and you don’t do anything to move it. It suits him. 

“It’s natural, if that’s what you’re getting at,” he tells you, the slightest twinge of a joke in his voice. It plays at your smile and at your heart, too. 

“You say that now, but you’ll be scrambling to come up with a lie when I find box dye in your bag.” 

He only hums in response, reluctantly enjoying the feeling of your hands on him—they’re gentle, and you can imagine he’s not quite used to this. It’s an addictive feeling, to have him at your mercy, even with just your hands in his hair. There’s trust, unspoken, lingering warmly in the air and settling like condensation on your skin. You could very easily do a number of things that would hurt Blade—kill him, almost. You’ve only ever thought of it a few times, and those were all a very long time ago. 

You don’t think of it that often anymore. All you’re paying attention to is Blade and the splitting ends of his hair and how nice he’d look with a red ribbon tied in. 

“We should go shopping,” you tell him, voice close to a whisper now. You’ve secured the end of his braid already, and your handiwork is admirable. The strands are neatly crossed over each other, uniform in size with each other as they taper down into the end. “Some clips for you would be nice.” Absentmindedly, you comb through the layers of hair near his face, digging your fingers gently into the sides of his face and scratching at his scalp. 

“And where exactly would we go shopping? We’re not exactly upstanding members of society in some people’s eyes.” 

“Then I’ll make clips for you,” you say, a naive kind of dedication in your tone. “I used to work with metal, a little bit. I could make jewelry. Ornaments for your hair. I’ll put a ribbon in next time.” 

“What makes you think there’ll be a next time?” Blade asks doubtfully, in steep contrast with the way he lets your hands roam along his scalp, and the way his head leans back into you as if he’s comfortable. 

“You’re a loyal customer,” you quip, “you’d never let somebody else do your hair when you have me as a dedicated stylist.” 

“I’m your only customer.” 

“I know,” and in a moment of weakness—because at the end of the day that’s what you are, weak, malleable and moveable when you’re with Blade like this—you lean down just a little bit, pressing a stupid clumsy kiss on the crown of his head. Your fingers trail down to trace the bumps of the braid, the divots and grooves in it, made by your hands, and yours alone. “That just means I can put all my effort towards you alone.” 

“You shouldn’t.” And he means it when he says that, and it hurts you, puts a sickly pang in your chest that you want to reach for and tear out before it grows into something worse. 

“But I will,” you tell him. Blade is stubborn, but not stubborn enough to keep it up. Not now, not here, not when the overhead lights are flickering and making his hair look just a little bluer, illuminating the warmer ends of his hair, glinting off the metal ornament still clipped into it. He rests between your hands, still sitting on the cold floor, pretending that he isn’t falling asleep with you like the fool he secretly is.

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

taglist: @tragedy-of-commons @lasiancunin

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[corroded-hellfire]

AYW request where Reader graduates from college so Ryan, Luke, and Eddie come to her graduation. And then Eddie gives her a little graduation gift of his own...

+ Eddie eating Reader out under her gown right after her graduation ceremony. Like, the moment she walks across the stage, he’s dragging her to the bathroom and diving in.

I am dedicating this to Dr. Bug! I'm so proud of you @munson-blurbs 💚

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral f receiving, age gap

Words: 5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The polyester robe that hangs on your shoulders sways in the breeze as you fetch your cap out of the back seat. The cerulean regalia is a beautiful shade, but it was a pain in the ass to find something to wear beneath it that didn’t clash. The white floral summer dress peeking out now from your unzipped gown was a lucky find that caught your eye while out having lunch with Max one day. 

Cap with a golden tassel securely in your hand, you shut the back door to your sister’s car and walk around the backside to stand next to her. 

“I can’t wait to meet your boyfriend,” your sister teases, as if you’re twelve and not twenty-two. 

You roll your eyes as you lift a hand to shade your face from the blazing sun above. It’s not even officially summer yet but Indiana is coming in hot with those high temperatures this year. 

“Don’t be weird,” you say.

An exaggerated gasp leaves your older sister’s lips, and she presses a hand to her heart, fresh yellow nail polish glinting in the sunlight. 

“Me? I’m never weird.”

“When I was fourteen you told Connor Donald–”

“But you were going to the bathroom!”

“You don’t tell that to a boy when he calls!” Somehow you feel like that teenage girl all over again.

“I just had this feeling about him,” she says with a shrug. Your sister crosses her arms over her chest. “And I was right.”

“Yeah, he was a creep,” you admit. 

The smug smile on her pretty face is annoying enough to have you turning away from her. At the other end of the parking lot, you see a familiar group of men headed your way, and the littlest one breaks away from the herd and races your way, yelling your name. As he gets closer, you spy the hat perched atop his chocolate curls and the cuteness devastates you.

With a gleeful chuckle, you catch Luke as he flings himself into your arms. Using the momentum, you swoop the almost-seven-year-old up and hold him against your hip. Your back and arm muscles protest the effort, but you do your best to ignore them. Truthfully, Luke’s getting heavier and too big for this now, but you can’t bear to stop picking him up—he’s still that baby boy to you. 

“Hey, you,” you greet him.

“You look so pretty!” he tells you as you begrudgingly set him down.  

“Thank you!” you say. “You look pretty handsome yourself in that snazzy fedora.”

Luke giggles and adjusts the brim of the hat so he can see you better. 

By now, the rest of the gang has made their way to you and Ryan is the next one to launch himself towards you for a hug. Wayne goes next and you can tell your boyfriend is purposefully waiting to be the last one. Indeed he was as he brings you into his arms and presses a soft, sweet kiss to your lips. His hands slip below the graduation robe and rest on the soft cotton of the dress that hugs your lower back. 

“Hi,” he whispers against your lips.

“Hi,” you reply just as softly. 

If it weren’t for your sister clearing her throat, you very well might have forgotten that you were at your graduation, let alone there were other people standing around you right now. Such is the power of Eddie and his touch.

“Oh,” you say, face heating up as you take a step back from your boyfriend. “Right. Um, everyone, this is my big sister, Gin. Gin, this is Eddie, Wayne, and the little monsters Luke and Ryan.”

Both boys make silly faces at you in retaliation for their introduction, which you have no problem doing right back to them. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Eddie says, extending his hand.

“Likewise,” Gin replies as she shakes it. 

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart,” Wayne greets your sister. They shake hands as Eddie comes closer to you again, standing behind you and resting his hands on your hips.

“Heard that if it weren’t for you, these two wouldn’t even know each other,” Wayne says, nodding to you and Eddie. 

Ryan’s nose scrunches up in confusion. “Huh?”

“It’s true,” Gin tells the boy with a smile. “My old roommate is friends with your mom. One day I overheard something about someone needing a babysitter and I knew my little sister was available.”

Luke walks over and wraps his arms around your sister’s hips, giving her a big squeeze.

“Thank you for hearing that!”

The adults chuckle and you lean back into Eddie as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“I don’t wanna go in,” you say with a sigh.

“Where are you going?” Ryan asks.

“I have to go inside with everyone else who’s graduating,” you explain as Eddie’s arms wind their way around your waist. He isn’t making this any easier. “That way you guys get to watch me when I walk across the stage.”

“Ed, would you let the poor girl go?” Wayne says with a sigh, making Gin let out a tittering laugh.

“Don’t wanna,” he says like a petulant child. He presses a kiss to your shoulder before whispering in your ear. “I like your dress.”

“Thank you,” you hum softly.

Silently, Eddie presses his body flush up against yours and you feel his half-hard cock pressing up against the top of your ass. A strangled gasp leaves your lips and Eddie has to bury his face in your neck to hide his smirk.

“I really like it,” he mumbles against your skin.

Sitting in the small arena, in dark green retractable seats that are usually reserved for someone watching a school basketball or hockey game, Ryan and Luke start to grow restless as they wait for the graduation ceremony to begin. Eddie knows they won’t exactly be captivated once it starts either, but he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it. 

“Luke, can you please sit down? I don’t want to ask you again.”

“When is she coming out?” Luke asks, craning his neck to look around at the stage as he does as his father asked.

“When everybody else does,” Ryan says, also bored, but annoyed by his little brother as well.

“But when’s that?” the six-year-old whines.

“You know,” Gin says with a smile that looks suspiciously like one of Luke’s or Ryan’s when they’re up to something, “I have some pretty funny stories I could tell you about her.”

Eddie is also clearly intrigued by this, a spark of mischief gleaming in his own eyes. 

“Ooh, like what?” Luke asks, already engrossed even though your sister hasn’t begun yet.

“Well, one time,” Gin starts, “she thought she could be like Mary Poppins and fly. She grabbed an umbrella and wanted to climb up to the roof. Our dad followed her into the garage and asked what she was looking for. When she said a ladder so she could go up to the roof, he put an end to her plan. She cried the whole day because she wasn’t allowed to try and fly like Mary Poppins could.”

Luke laughs, tilting sideways until he’s leaning against his big brother. Ryan’s chuckling as well, picturing you being mad because you can’t fly. 

“Are you the big sister?” Ryan asks.

“I am,” Gin says.

“How many years?” Luke asks. “Ryan’s two years older than me. I’m the baby.”

“I’m six years older than her.”

“I’m six years old!” Luke shares excitedly.

“Do you have any more stories?” Ryan asks. 

Eddie and Wayne share a smile between the two of them. Ryan is usually never so open with people he’s just met—he’s always been the shyest in the family. But there’s something about Gin being your sister that has Ryan feeling comfortable enough to be himself. The two of you aren’t identical, though it’s easy to tell that you are sisters. Gin is slightly shorter, and her face holds more roundness than yours does, but there’s a clear resemblance. Especially around the eyes, Eddie notices. They aren’t the exact same shade, but the shape of your eyes and arch of your eyebrows are very much alike. 

“Hmm,” Gin hums as she thinks of another story to entertain the boys with. Eddie can’t help but notice she purses her lips when she’s thinking the same way that you do as well. 

“Oh, okay. She used to make us watch her sing and dance all the time! Especially to New Kids on the Block.”

“Who?” Ryan asks.

Before the stab of feeling old has time to sink in for Eddie, Gin, or Wayne, the lights dim and a blanket of quiet falls over the crowd.

The faculty takes their places on stage and Pomp and Circumstance begins to play over the loudspeaker. Soon, a rolling wave enters the floor of the arena as all graduates file in towards the rows of chairs laid out for them.

Both Ryan and Luke stand, the younger Munson on his tippy toes as he tries to look as far and wide as he can to spot you in the crowd. 

“Where is she?” Luke groans. “Everyone is so blue!”

“Ugh! I can’t find her!” Ryan follows up. 

It takes Eddie a few moments to find you as well. Everyone is matching so he can’t go by what you’re wearing beneath your gown, and it’s even hard to see your beautiful hair with the cap restricting his view. But it doesn’t take your boyfriend very long to spot you, as he’d be able to find you anywhere—even if he was blindfolded. 

“Look, look,” Eddie says, gesturing for his sons to step closer to him. “She’s right there. Next to Aunt Jess.”

Ryan and Luke do their best to follow the direction that their father is pointing in, but it’s hard–even when the graduates all stop walking once they reach their seats. But as Ryan wrinkles up his brow and really tries to examine his dad’s line of vision, his eyes catch on you.

“I see her!” A grin lights up Ryan’s face and it fills Eddie with a warmth that the outside sun could never hope to aspire to. 

After a few more minutes, and once the speeches begin, Luke spies you as well and becomes just as excited as his big brother. Their joy quickly wears off as speaker after speaker comes up to the podium to give some of the most boring speeches Eddie has ever heard in his entire life. He can’t blame his boys for practically falling asleep slumped against one another. 

Finally, the names of the graduates begin to get called and the boys muster up their energy reserves to wait for you. There’s a good chunk of graduates who have their moment before a name is called that the boys recognize.

“Jess Arnold.”

The boys excitedly cheer but become even giddier when they see you’re next up. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the emotion of walking across the stage to receive your diploma. Hearing your name called over the loudspeaker was cool, being up on the jumbo screen for a moment was pretty surreal, but the sounds coming from one particular section of the audience have you choking up as you accept the rolled up piece of parchment from the Dean.

The claps of two small pairs of hands and cheers from those same boys send goosebumps shooting up and down your arms. Luke hadn’t even shouted that loud in excitement when he saw the real-life Hot Wheels cars. Wayne’s whistle joins the noise, that piercing sound making you chuckle as you try to swallow your emotions. Gin’s voice is unmistakable in her cheering—you heard that yelling every day growing up, you’d know it anywhere. But the sound in the cacophony that makes a few tears spill over your lash line is Eddie’s proud and happy “Woo!” that he repeats as you make your way across the platform. You just wish he was waiting for you as soon as you stepped off the stage so you could run into his arms. But as you step down and are about to head back to your seat, you look up and see where your family is up in the stands.

When they realize you’re looking at them, the boys wave excitedly, both hands flapping over their heads. Wayne and Gin both give you waves as well. Your eyes are glued to Eddie though, as he presses his hand to his mouth and then extends it towards you, blowing a kiss your way. A girlish giggle bubbles out of you at the gesture and you blow one right back to him. 

It feels like ants scurrying out of an ant hill as you exit the arena and try to find familiar faces amongst the thousands of family members and friends who are here to support their loved ones today. 

Jess comes up beside you and loops her arm through yours. You flash her a quick smile and the two of you fight your way through the crowd, searching for your people. 

Your name catches your attention and your head whips to the left to see Luke’s small hands cupped around his mouth. It’s a swim upstream as you tug Jess in that direction, but you finally make it to find Eddie waiting with a bouquet of carnations in his hand. 

More tears threaten to spill over as he hands them to you with a smile so full of admiration and pride on his face.

“Congratulations, sweetheart.”

The wrapper around the flowers crinkles in your hand and you make sure it’s held tight in your fist as you throw your arms around your boyfriend’s neck and hug him as close as you can manage. Eddie doesn’t hesitate for a moment, his arms encircling your waist and holding your body up against his.

“Thank you,” you say loud enough for him to hear over the crowd. “I love you so much.”

“They’re from us, too!” you hear Luke say.

With a soft chuckle, you pull away from Eddie who is raising an eyebrow at his boys.

“Are they, now? I must’ve missed the part where you chipped in,” he says.

“You must’ve,” Luke agrees with a shrug.

You laugh and hand the flowers to Eddie so you can pull both boys in for a big hug. Each of them gets squeezed in an arm but they cling to you just as tightly. 

“You were on stage!” Ryan says when you let go.

“And I heard you cheering for me!” you tell him. 

“Can I wear your hat?” Luke asks.

“Oh, I need a picture of that,” you say while nodding your head. 

That leads to dozens of pictures being taken. You with everyone at once, you with everyone individually, you and Jess goofing off before she went off to find her family. Luke takes a handful while wearing your cap but Eddie plops it back on your head so he can take a few more with you. 

Both boys make gagging noises as Gin snaps a picture of Eddie giving you a kiss. Their groans only grow as you wrap your arms around Eddie’s neck and sink further into the kiss, another snapshot being taken.

“Please tell me that one isn’t going to get hung up anywhere,” Luke gripes. 

For the next picture, Eddie wraps his arm tightly around your waist and dips you, causing you to let out a mixture of a squeal and laughter as your hands cling to him for stability. You’re aware of the flash of the camera going off but it’s nothing compared to the brightness of Eddie’s grin as he looks down at you. It makes your heart pound faster than the adrenaline from the feeling of almost falling could ever do.

Once multiple roles of film have been used, the camera gets tucked away and it’s time to get going. Eddie offers to drive you back, just the two of you, since Gin drove you here and she’s headed straight back home. Wayne can take the boys back to give you and Eddie some time alone.

“Thank you for coming,” you say to your sister as you pull her in for a hug.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” she tells you. “I’m so proud of you.” “Thank you.”

It makes you smile to see how the Munsons all hug her goodbye as well–even shy little Ryan. With one last wave, your sister heads towards the parking lot and Wayne ruffles the hair of the two boys.

“Ready, knuckleheads?” he asks.

“Can I wear your cap home?” Luke asks.

“Sure.” You hand the blue piece of regalia to him and instead of switching it out with his fedora like he did for the pictures, he just stacks it on top of his own hat.

“That’s a great look,” Eddie tells him, to which Luke winks in response. 

“Will you take these for me, Ry?” you ask, offering the eight-year-old your bouquet of pastel-colored flowers.

“Of course!” The wrapper crinkles as the boy situates the long stems against his shorter frame.

You press a kiss to both boys’ cheeks before they head towards the parking lot with Wayne. Eddie laces his fingers with yours and you go to follow in the same direction the others just went, when Eddie tugs you back and smacks a kiss to the back of your hand.

“How about a little campus tour before we go?” he asks.

“Oh?” you ask, raising your eyebrows. “Anywhere in particular you want to see?”

Eddie shrugs. “Your favorite spots. Somewhere there’s no one else, maybe.”

“Right,” you say, a smirk tugging the corners of your lips. “Let’s see what we come across.”

Hand in hand, the two of you take a leisurely stroll through the quad of campus. Where there are usually people studying or picnicking during the semester, now there are graduates and families taking pictures and celebrating. The warm day outside leads you to the cool shelter of the student center at the far end of the yard, where you spent a lot of your college days having lunch. It’s mostly empty now, no one having any real need to be in here other than to escape the brutal sun. 

An empty hallway catches Eddie’s eye, and he leads you by the hand to follow him in that direction. His boots squeak against the white linoleum tiles and your heels clack as you step behind in his wake. There isn’t much down this way except for a few offices that are now empty, a room full of vending machines, and some bathrooms. 

Your boyfriend takes advantage of the latter, the empty hallway leading him to believe there will be no one in the men’s room. His gamble is correct as he pulls you in behind him. He moves quick as lightning to turn the lock on the bathroom door, assuring that no one will interrupt the two of you. 

Eddie’s lips are on yours a heartbeat later, both his and your hands going to the zipper of your graduation gown. Neither of you can get it down blindly, but Eddie’s too impatient to make another go at it. Instead, he grips your hips and helps you sit on the peach granite counter behind you. The gown gets rucked up your body, the dress he’s so fond of joining it until they’re both up around your waist.

“Eddie,” you whimper.

“Shhh, shhh, baby,” Eddie croons as he sinks down to his knees. Soft, plush lips trail hot kisses from the inside of your left knee all the way up to the apex of your thighs. Large, strong hands massage up and down your legs as his lips never leave your skin, touching and teasing everywhere except where you need him the most. 

Eddie lets his eyes slip closed not only to let himself enjoy the feeling of having his hands and lips worship your soft skin, but also because if he gets one more look at the wet patch on your purple lace panties, he’s going to rip them off of you and the fun will end far too soon. 

“Eddie, please,” you beg.

“I’ve got you, princess,” he says softly. 

Torturously slow, Eddie’s mouth comes closer to your center, the heat of his breath making you curl your toes before he even comes in contact with you. Brown doe eyes open to look at you, darkened by lust as he finally presses his mouth against your core, kissing against the wet patch of your panties that’s driving him so wild. Pleasure flutters in your pussy, your hole clenching around nothing as Eddie opens his mouth and grips the material of your panties with his teeth. As quick as he grabbed them, he lets them go, letting the wet lace smack back against your clit. 

“God, I need you,” Eddie growls. 

Calloused fingers work themselves up the outside of your thighs and grip the purple material at your hips. You arch your back, head resting against the bathroom mirror, to assist your boyfriend in ridding you of your underwear, which he shoves into the back pocket of his pants. 

Now with nothing between him and your soaked pussy, Eddie eyes it greedily and the way he stares at your bare sex turns you on even more. You choke on a breath as he dives in, tongue instantly running from your hole up to your clit. He decides to keep his attention there, flicking the sensitive nub with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. 

“Fuck,” you moan. Eddie’s responding moan reverberates up your core, adding another layer of pleasure to his mouth on you. 

He hitches your left leg over his shoulder to open you up even more for him, going in to devour you like his life depends on it. His hot, long tongue glides through your folds as he licks at you, not stopping even for a moment to catch his breath–not giving you a moment of reprieve as his mouth works against your pussy like it was made for this.  

You never want this–him–to stop but Eddie’s too God damn good with his mouth for you to last long. 

“E-Eddie, please.” You’re not sure what you’re pleading for as you reach down and grip the curls on the top of the older man’s head in your hand. It takes all of your control not to rut your hips against his sinful mouth. 

Even though you’re not sure what you’re asking for, Eddie somehow knows what you need—he always does. He slips a finger inside of you, quickly followed by a second, as he keeps his mouth working on your clit. His eyes are trained on yours, not breaking contact for a second as his tongue laps at your clit and his fingers pump in and out of your greedy pussy.

If the feeling alone wasn’t about to bring you over the edge, the sight before you was.

“Oh, I’m gonna, I-I’m gonna–”

You don’t have time to finish your thought as your orgasm rushes over you, pleasure sparking throughout your body and leaving a tingle in your veins that only Eddie can give you. Thick fingers continue to work you through it, his tongue not giving up its assault on your clit until he’s wrung every ounce of ecstasy he can from you.

Once your muscles relax and you’re panting above him, Eddie slips his fingers from inside of you and stands up. He wastes no time slipping them into his mouth, moaning as he savors the taste of you. You’d come again just from that if you had the energy. 

“Eddie,” you whisper between labored breaths.

“I love how much you say my name,” your boyfriend says as he leans over your body and presses his lips against yours. 

The sound of Eddie’s zipper being pulled down shoots a thrill of excitement through you as the two of you exchange easy, lazy kisses. His hard cock nudging at your hole has you breaking your mouth away from his, a whimper tumbling from your lips. 

“Yes,” you whine, the only word in your otherwise blank mind.

His initial push into you has you gripping at his shoulders, throwing your head back, which Eddie takes full advantage of and attaches his lips to your throat. The deeper he sinks into you, the harder your nails dig into the back of the button up shirt Eddie wore just for the occasion today. 

“Shit,” Eddie huffs with a small laugh. “I’m not gonna last long, baby. Fuck, been hard since I saw you this afternoon. Couldn’t stop thinking about how bad I wanna fuck you since then. How bad I needed to taste you. Feel that tight, perfect pussy of yours squeezing me so fuckin’ good.”

You lift your head up to look at him through heavy-lidded eyes. 

“Even though m’not your college girl anymore?” you ask through your shallow breathing.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie growls, gripping your hips tighter and adjusting the angle that he pushes into you. “You’re my college graduate. My smart girl. My smart girl who gets so dumb on my cock, doesn’t she?”

“Uh huh.” You nod, your head heavy as the familiar pressure builds up in your lower tummy.

“That’s my girl.”

“So close,” you whine.

“Me too, baby. Come on. Be my good girl and come with me.”

One of Eddie’s hands leaves your hips and his thumb presses against your clit, making tight circles just the way he knows drives you crazy. 

“Fuck,” you groan.

“Let go, princess.”

“Shit, I-I’m coming!”

Eddie spilling into you, coating your walls with his warm seed elevates this orgasm as you hold onto your boyfriend for dear life. Lightning sparks everywhere his body touches yours and pure bliss washes over you like a wave on the surf. 

It takes a few minutes for the two of you to catch your breath. Eddie’s body hovers over yours and, if you’re honest, you’d be fine if he never moved. Eventually, he has to though, which also means pulling out of you. Though you whine at the loss, Eddie is right there to help clean you up and press sweet kisses to your mouth.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips.

“Mmm, I would hope so,” you tease, throwing your arms around his neck.

Eddie has one arm draped around your shoulders as you walk down the hallway to his apartment door. He keeps pressing kisses to your temple and running the material of your graduation gown between his fingers. 

“What’re the odds the boys will be asleep?” Eddie asks when you’re one door away.

“Slim to none,” you answer with a bark of laughter. “It’s still light out.”

“Details, details.” Eddie grabs the doorknob and tosses the front door open, allowing you to step inside first.

But you don’t even get one foot over the threshold before your eyes take in the sight before you. A large banner reading “Congratulations!” hangs in the archway that leads to the bedrooms and the apartment is crowded with people. Your jaw drops and it takes your brain a few moments to recalibrate. Once it does, you spin around to face Eddie and swat at his arm.

“I told you I didn’t want a party!”

Eddie shakes his head, a shit-eating grin on his face, as he leads you into the apartment and closes the door behind him. All six Harringtons are here, Max, Lucas, and their daughter Tiffany, and Wayne with both boys, who look more mischievous than ever.

“Oh no, this isn’t a graduation party,” Eddie says. 

Nancy steps forward, a sly smile on her face, when you narrow your eyes at Eddie.

“Nope,” she echoes. “It’s an employee performance review.”

You stare at her for a moment, not comprehending her words.

“What?”

She can’t help but let out a small chuckle so Steve steps up to her side to help her out.

“You’re our employee, right? Watch the kids? So, we reviewed your performance and determined it was excellent.”

“Which of course calls for a party,” Nancy explains, gesturing to the living room full of people around her.

“And the fact that it happens to be on the day I graduated college?” you ask, tilting your head to look at Eddie.

“Complete coincidence,” he says with an innocent shrug. 

“Look, look, look!” Luke bounds over and grabs your hand, leading you over to the counter that separates the kitchen and the living room. 

A large sheet cake with vanilla icing and blue piping rests there, bearing the words “Congrats Grad!” in gold lettering.

It brings a smile to your face, but you smile even wider as you look down at Luke and then over at Ryan.

“Did you two know about this?” you ask.

“Maaaaybe,” Ryan drawls.

“I can’t believe you kept a secret from me!”

You pull Luke in against your chest and start to tickle his sides. He squirms, trying to get away from you as he howls in laughter. 

“Ahh! Ryan! Help me!”

Ryan rushes over and tries to tug his little brother out of your grasp, but you’re quicker. You pull the older Munson brother into your clutches as well and he becomes another victim of your tickling. They both shriek and try to run, but you cease your tickling to wrap your arm around each boy and press a kiss to the top of their heads. 

“You little sneaks,” you say.

“Can we have cake now?” is Luke’s only reply. He doesn’t wait for a response before posing another question. “Do you make a wish on graduation cakes?”

“What would you wish for, babe?” Eddie says as he walks over to you. He looks like he’s trying not to laugh, and you furrow your brow. “Would it be to fly like Mary Poppins?”

Your eyes widen as all the heat in your body rushes to your face.

“I’m going to kill my sister.”

[narraboths]

“You got anything to tell me about yesterday’s interview, Ponytail?”

Being cornered by one’s editor is rarely a good sign. Being cornered by a harried Snapper Carr one month into her tenure as a rookie reporter would be enough to give others nightmares for a month. Maybe ulcers. Kara, though, she’s been having a great week, and she’s not about to let anyone ruin it.

“Nope.” She pops the p a little. Something about Snapper’s moroseness always pushes her to be spitefully chipper.

“Nothing out of the ordinary?”

“Not at all.”

“Hm.” Snapper nurses the thought with that dour, toothachey look that Kara’s come to learn is directed at her just as much as it is a sign of his general displeasure with the world. He pulls out his phone, jabbing at the screen. “So do you mind explaining to me why my cub reporter is on the front page of every gossip rag from here to Metropolis as the Mystery Blonde Caught in Luthor’s Web?”

That can’t be right is immediately the tip of Kara’s tongue but it freezes there, along with the incredulous laugh threatening to burst out of her, because Snapper is shoving his phone in her face and–

“It’s not what it looks like,” she blurts out, instinctively, then winces at her own choice of words. Great save. “I was just being considerate.”

It’s true, really. She was only holding the door open for Lena as they left L-Corp (Lena was on the move the whole day, they did half of the interview in the back of her Range Rover, flitting between offices), and it only happened that Lena’s hand fell to her forearm, a completely innocent gesture, as innocent as Lena’s smile, as the way she swayed a little closer, saying thank you as she strode by. And sure, Kara may have felt mesmerized for a single, fleeting moment, suddenly so deeply flustered by the gentle weight of Lena’s hand that she almost cracked the door handle in two, but who wouldn’t? Lena Luthor just has a remarkable presence. Why are they letting paparazzi camp out at the L-Corp doorstep, anyways?

“I’ve never seen Luthor that affectionate with anyone.” Snapper eyes Kara suspiciously, his face screaming why you of all people, bumbling rookie who can barely even spell?. “I’ve never seen any of the Luthors affectionate with anyone at all.”

“Guess it’s just my natural charm, sir.” Kara flashes the most annoyingly innocent smile she can, then squares her shoulders. “Did you actually read my article?”

There’s a beat of silence, Snapper staring daggers at her. Then finally, finally, he lets out an annoyed huff.

“Of course I read it. It’s going out first thing tomorrow.” He pockets his phone, then rubs his face with a tired motion. “Make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

“You got it, boss.”

-

It happens again.

It happens again a bunch, really. (Kara at the L-Corp gala, at Lena’s table, the two of them in lively conversation, shoulders pressed together – she was telling me about L-Corp’s new green energy initiative, sir –, the fond smile and almost-teasing tone when Lena calls “yes, Miss Danvers?” at her press conference – she’s just nice! It’s not a crime! –, the candid of them on the CatCo balcony when Lena’s in house for her cover shoot, Kara gesturing excitedly and Lena leaning against the railing, hanging onto every word, a jacket two sizes too big wrapped around her shoulders – you know it gets cold out there. At least there’s no photos of her wrapping the jacket around Lena, their hands brushing together, the faint blush along the lines of Lena’s throat. That’d probably look pretty suspicious.) Snapper’s face takes on increasingly vivid shades of purplish red.

“Do we need to go over the meaning of journalistic integrity again, Danvers?”

Kara decides to take graduating from “Ponytail” as a win.

“We’re not– it’s not anything untoward,” she shoots back, arms crossed, only slightly blushing. In anger, certainly. “I’m doing my job. I grilled her on L-Corp still holding a contract with the government for anti-alien defense systems that Lex negotiated, just last week. There’s footage.”

“Yeah,” Snapper grinds his teeth so vehemently that Kara’s afraid he might crack a crown. “Footage of her hugging you in the hallway afterwards, too. What the hell were you doing?”

“She just thanked me, sir.” The vein on Snapper’s neck looks ready to burst. Kara makes a mental note to recommend meditation at a less belligerent time. “She said my question made it possible for her to make a public stance and really send a message.”

Snapper looks like he’s nearing an aneurysm.

“Hell, Danvers, that sounds even worse!”

It sounded pretty great, actually, Kara thinks, after the borderline unprofessional row they had in Lena’s office when Kara first broached the subject. It felt pretty great, too, not just Lena’s declaration, her renewed commitment to reject everything Lex and Lillian stand for, but the warmth of Lena’s pressed against her, her lips brushing against Kara’s cheek, the low murmur of “you’re such a wonderful friend” in her ear that gave her such a strange shiver. At least that much thankfully escaped the prying eyes and cameras.

“Either I don’t go near her, or CatCo continues to have the leading stories on one of National City’s most high-profile citizens.” She gives Snapper the steeliest look she can muster without letting her heat vision flare up. “And my covers are currently bringing in our biggest numbers. Sir.”

Snapper grinds his teeth again, but his shoulders sag just a touch, and Kara knows she’s won this round.

“You’re on thin ice, Danvers. Back to your desk.”

Kara complies with a grin and a thumbs up, and decides to take a break half an hour later, when Alex forwards her an article titled Bosom Buddies: Lena Luthor Out And About With CatCo Gal Pal with a subtle mix of skull, knife, and eyeroll emojis. She does save one of the photos, though, the one where Lena’s head’s thrown back in adorable, delightful laughter.

-

“Can you explain this one, Danvers?”

Snapper doesn’t look angry this time. No, he’s strangely calm, somewhat elated, even, slamming a whole bundle of newspapers down on her desk, jolting Kara out of her reverie. Half of them are National City publications, Kara vaguely notes, but there’s Metropolis and Gotham and Central City in the mix, too, as if it was the story of the century. Must be a slow news day.

“Of course, sir. I think the proper term is ‘first date’?”

To her greatest surprise, Snapper barks out a laugh, loud and gruff.

“You’re now barred from any future reporting on the Luthors or L-Corp,” he tells her, not without a touch of satisfaction. If Kara hadn’t been walking on sunshine for the past thirteen hours, twenty-eight minutes and forty-one seconds, since the first tentative press of Lena’s lips against her own, she might’ve felt a bit miffed. “Cat Grant’s setting aside a little time later in the afternoon to chew you out personally.”

Kara nods happily along. Withering tones and grim disapproval, the usual spiel, as if anything could dull that buzzing, electrifying feeling coursing through her body since last night, the weightless, feverish joy that grips her every time she thinks of Lena’s last text and everything can’t wait to see you again tonight could possibly entail.

“Yessir.”

“Congratulations, Danvers.” Snapper raps his knuckles against her desk. “Let’s spare each other the heartburn from now on.”

- 

(Kara shows up with a hickey on her neck and the headlines of Lena Luthor Packs PDA With New Girlfriend the next day. Snapper refuses to look her in the eyes for the rest of the week.) 

[piastrisun]

unexpected confession.

pairings: lando norris + fem reader.

summary: as the elevator stalls, so does your composure. lando’s sudden, earnest words turn the trapped moment into a delicate dance between panic and possibility.

genre: fluff.⠀word count: 1k.⠀ warning: none.

notes: lando’s birthday!!! a bit short but i hope y’all like it. <3 no use of y/n or any names at all.

you and lando are standing in the elevator, the air uncomfortably still, and the space around you both feels too small. the elevator’s hum seems louder now, echoing in the confined space. the flickering light above does little to calm the rising tension between you two, as your body instinctively shifts to press against the corner.

you’ve never thought much about how close you are to each other—how every small movement feels amplified in this moment. it's as if your very proximity makes the silence heavier. your mind races, trying to distract itself from the fact that you're alone in an elevator, stuck for what feels like forever. it should be mundane, but with lando here, everything suddenly feels too intense.

and then, he breaks the stillness, his voice barely above a whisper but loud enough to shake you out of your thoughts. "i don’t want to die without telling you this."

your heart skips a beat, and a chill runs down your spine. the sudden panic floods you, and you whip your head to face him, your eyes wide, your breath catching in your throat. “what?! what are you talking about? are we—are we dying?”

his face goes pale as he stammers, looking more flustered than you've ever seen him. his hands hover over the elevator buttons as though he can fix the situation with the press of a few keys. “no! no, of course not… well, i mean, i don’t think so. but listen, it’s important.” he avoids your gaze, the nervous energy practically crackling between you.

you let out a shaky, almost panicked laugh, trying to control the rapid beat of your heart. “lando, this is not the time for dramatic confessions! you’re freaking me out!”

he shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes dart around the elevator. you can tell he’s struggling to keep it together, his body stiff with the weight of whatever he's about to say. “i love you. i always have. and i’m sorry for not saying it sooner.”

you freeze, your body going rigid. the words land with such weight that you can’t process them fast enough. your jaw falls open, and your mouth feels dry as you blink a few times, as if trying to clear the fog in your brain. "wait, what? you love me? you’ve… always loved me?" you can’t quite wrap your mind around it, your voice coming out in a whisper, disbelief taking over. your hands tremble, and your heart is pounding so hard you swear he can hear it. "are you—are you serious right now? do you think we’re going to die in this elevator?"

“no! no, i don’t think we’re dying! i mean, not right now.” lando sighs dramatically, dropping his shoulders in exasperation as he leans back against the elevator wall, seemingly giving up on fixing anything. “but… look, i just needed to say it, okay? i didn’t want to leave with it unsaid. so, if we do die, well… at least you know.”

his words hang in the air like a strange confession, one that doesn't quite make sense given the circumstances. but even then, a knot of warmth stirs in your chest, a strange mix of emotions you’re not ready to confront.

you step back, crossing your arms tightly over your chest as if trying to shield yourself from what’s happening. you narrow your eyes at him, your lips curling into a teasing frown. “so, this is your plan? we get stuck in an elevator for five minutes and suddenly you’ve decided to unload your feelings?”

he groans, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. he slumps against the wall, letting out a breath like he's trying to deflate from the awkwardness. “this wasn’t exactly the moment i planned, okay? but i’ve been holding it in for years, and if you do kill me with that glare, at least i’ll go knowing i said it.”

you bite back a smile, your eyes narrowing in mock judgment. you raise an eyebrow as you lean toward him. “glare? i’m just trying to process this. you’ve have fancied me all this time, and you never said anything?”

his shoulders tense, and he rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze as if searching for some way to escape. “i wasn’t sure if you felt the same. i thought maybe you’d think i was, i don’t know, creepy or something.” his voice cracks slightly, a nervous chuckle escaping him. he looks down at his shoes, his embarrassment clear. “but now here we are. stuck in this tiny box together, one awkward cough away from the end of our lives…”

you can’t help but laugh, the sound light and a little shaky as you step forward, your lips curling into a playful smirk. “well, lucky for you, i don’t think you’re creepy. and maybe… just maybe… i’ve had a few feelings too.”

his eyes widen, his mouth slightly agape, disbelief written all over his face. his voice falters for a moment, but it’s full of hope. “wait, what?!”

you laugh softly, the playful edge to your voice not masking the sudden warmth in your chest. "you think i’m just going to throw myself at you after you drop that bomb? i’m not that easy, lando."

his eyes light up, his expression shifting from surprise to sheer delight. he takes a step closer, his grin impossibly wide as he leans in, his voice filled with teasing excitement. “oh, really? because if we do get stuck here a little longer, i can think of a few ways to pass the time…” his gaze flickers down to your lips before meeting your eyes again, mischievous and full of playful challenge.

you roll your eyes dramatically, trying to maintain some semblance of control over your emotions, but the smile you can’t hide betrays you. "you’re unbelievable."

lando shrugs, his grin growing even wider as he leans back, arms crossing in mock defense. his eyes dance with a mix of humor and genuine affection. "i do try."

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 24’.

[miss-cincaide]

Tell The Difference

Summary: Your boyfriend, Yuji, decides to play a little prank on you by dressing up as his cousin for the halloween party, fake tattoos and all. But what happens when you actually can’t tell the difference between them? How will they punish you for it?  Pairing: Fem! Reader x Bf! Yuji X Sukuna  Kinktober prompt 4: Costumes  WC: 2 K Warnings: Alcohol consumption/ drunk, threesome, split-roasting (BJ, p in v), unprotected sex, nipple and dick piercing (because we know Sukuna got those), punishments (orgasm denial),

“Yuuuuji” You’re voice is loud, obnoxiously so as you throw your arms around the suit-clad pink haired idiot from behind. The very idiot that had left you alone for most of the Halloween party with only a bunch of newbie frat boys and girls and a ton of alcohol to amuse yourselves with. It was just shy of midnight, new people arriving and yet you and your little group were half a shot away from passed out drunk. “Yooou’re late, I missed you!”

“Gah get off me, Woman” Sukuna growls flinging you over his shoulder and into the bed beside himself before returning back to the mirror he was at, going straight back to adjusting his appearance the way he was  before you went beer hug on him. 

You gasp, then burst into a fit of giggles as you land beside his almost-identical look alike. Same hair, same tattoos, the only thing missing is the yet-to-be-worn black suit jacket which hangs against the back of a nearby chair. And the tie is undone; Yuji’s fingers are unusually clumsy as he desperately tries, and fails, to tie the tie properly.  

You blink up from your spot in the bed, rub at  your eyes, then shift your gaze from the two almost identical men. You rub your eyes again, then huff in annoyance. “Why are there two Sukuna?” 

“Babe!” “Wrech!” They cry, the one closest to you unmistakably calls you babe. His voice is softer, affectionate and pouty. The other just glares murderous dargers at you from the reflection in the mirror. At first it seems obvious which is which, but you also wouldn’t put it past your boyfriend to try and trick you for the fun of it. 

Sukuna may not be into pranks and games as his cousin, but he is also not the type to pass up an opportunity to annoy or embarrass you. The more humiliating the memory, the more Sukuna will get behind it, so he can torture you with it for all of eternity, or at least, across every family dinner to come. 

You sit up, cross your arms over your chest and stare at the two men cautiously. 

“C’mooon don’t look like that, hey, babe” The one beside you, who awfully sounds like Yuji, whines and leans in to plant a kiss on your lips. You hold up your hand at last second and he plants a big smooch on the palm of your hand. “Babe!” 

“ Don’t think so, Sukuna” You glare darkly, your eyes move away from the shocked pink head still kissing your hand to the one standing by the mirror, the one with a wide grin on his lips. “I’m not falling for that one, Yuji.” 

Sukuna’s grin grows wider. A row of perfectly white teeth glimmer back at you in an almost predatory fashion. As if you’ve just admitted your biggest weakness and flaw in one breath.

 “You’re one stupid woman, brat.” He pushes himself away from the mirror and walks towards the door of the bedroom you were in, glared at the horny youths about to enter before slamming, and locking the door in their faces. Leaving just the three of you in the room. 

You don’t get to ponder for long why he did that as Yuji draws your attention with his almost signature whine. “You’re serious aren’t you, Y/N?” his voice is laced with shock and disbelief. “You really can’t see the difference between us like this?!” 

Your gaze shifts between Yuji and Sukuna, then back to Yuji and back to Sukuna, your eyes trails their bodies. Both are very well trained, both about the same shade of tan after a ton of time outside. Both dressed in the same clothes, and both sprouting the only way you’d distinguish them; the tattoos. The tiny differences, like the fact that Sukuna is an inch or two taller, and has a sharper jawline and larger mouth, are so small it's difficult for your drunken mind to keep them apart. You could tell by the voice, but when they were silent, you were at a total loss. 

Defeated, you shake your head. A pitiful ‘no’ leaves your lips, and you feel like the worst girlfriend in existence. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice the predatory stalk they do towards you, stopping at the edge of the bed in front of you. 

“That's so, woman?” You hear Sukuna speak, and glance up just in time to meet his lips. He is rough as he kisses you, tongue pushes past your lips and steals your breath away. You're frozen completely until he pulls away. 

“Wha-” You’re cut off by another set of lips. Just as passionate but less forceful. They move against you in rhythm, nipping and sucking on your bottom lip until you’re completely dizzy and out of breath. When he pulls back you blink, sitting stunned, trying to process what happened. The both of them grin down at you, waiting for your reaction. Your eyes flicker from one to the other, knowing that one of them is your boyfriend and the other, your boyfriend's cousin. You expect to see which one, to see a flicker of anger or jealousy or even hurt, but all you see are two sets of eyes full of mischief.  “Again?”  

The words barely leave your lips before they're on you. Sukuna’s lips on yours, hard and demanding. His hands go straight to your tits, fondling them through the thin material of your cat costume. Yuji climbs on the bed behind you, maneuvers you up on your knees then presses his front to your back. His hands run up and down your sides, his lips on your neck, nipping in just the right places to leave you moaning. 

Fuck what did you get yourself into?

You aren’t sure. You aren’t even sure you care at this point as your hands wander Sukuna's body. Like this, up close, you can tell the difference. Your fingers linger on his chest, circle his nipples a few times before you break the kiss. “Y-you’ve got nipple piercings?” 

“ Tsk, not the only thing pierced babe” Sukuna growls his hand yanking your head up back towards his lips. 

“Can I see?” you mumble shyly against his lips. Sukuna growls, half in displeasure, half in arousal. Then he pulls back, just long enough to shrug off the black suit jacket onto the floor and rip open the white button down. 

Yuji pauses mid-hickey making, sending his cousin a glare. “Oj that was an expensive one, you know” 

“ Heeh, that shit? I’ll get you ten times better brat” Sukuna scoffs before making a motion towards you. The next thing you know, your fuzzy cat-suit top and latex bra underneath goes off you and to the floor. 

You yelp, try to cover yourself up but Sukuna stops you, grasps both your hands in one of his. His free one goes to one tit, his mouth on the other. He sucks, and you moan, throwing your head back until it lands on Yuji’s shoulder. “Holy shit ahh!” You tremble, your mind focused on the lips, hands and teeth that are all over you. Yuji making hickeys just the way you like it, Sukuna turning your tits on fire, fuck, their joint attention goes straight to your core. 

Another moan and you’re rubbing your thighs together. Just a little fricking is all you need, just a little–

“Feel good baby?” Yuji asks a hint of uncertainty in his voice, and you let out a low hum of agreement, craning your neck just enough to press a kiss to his cheek. A second later Sukuna has your attention again, drawing out another damned moan from your lips. Yuji grins behind you, his hands on your thighs tighten. “You still can’t tell the difference between us, Babe?” he breathes in your ear, his teeth nip on your earlobe when you don’t reply directly. 

Your eyes flicker down to Sukuna sucking and loving your other breast, then to Yuji’s hands stroking up and down your thighs, the temporary tattoos on his hands beginning to crack, making it so very obvious it's him. 

“N-no” You lie through your teeth because damn you aren’t fucking ready to stop, dress and go back to the god damn drunken Halloween party as if nothing happened. 

“First you can’t tell the difference between your boyfriend and his cousin; now you’re lying. I think you’re begging to be punished by us, Y/N” Yuji’s hands leave your thighs, in fact he’s practically not touching you. A second later Sukuna is gone and you whine, your mind finally registering his words. 

“P-punishment?” You ask, raising your head from his shoulder and turning your body to face Yuji. You catch a glimpse of his smile, a quick kiss, before he pushes your body forward on your hands and knees, towards Sukuna’s raging cock. 

Your eyes widen at the sight of it, eyes locked on the two silver balls at the tip of his cock, an unmistakable piercing. Your mouth drops open, mind drawing a blank on how you’d even approach that. 

“Suck it, woman” Sukuna snaps, hand tangles in your hair and dips your head forward, his cock thrusting up past your tense lips. He curses, driving himself deeper and you gag, eyes watering. His grip on your hair tights, a shit-eating grin on his lips as he pulls out just enough to give you a breath, then thrusts in, a little gentler this time. You run your tongue over the metal piercing, rolling it and he fucking moans.  

“Yes babe, just like that, show him what your tongue can do” Yuji urges you on. You feel him shift on the bed to the point the entire thing, and you bounce, your head bobbing up and down with each bounce. Another second, then you gasp loudly as he tears through your stockings. 

“I’ll get you ten times better ones!” Yuji echoes Sukuna’s words as he spreads your legs a little wider. His fingers reach out, trailing out your leaking pussy a few times. Then he pushes in. 

You throw your head back with a loud, “Oh yes!” your orgasm building quickly.

“Fucking woman, focus” Sukuna hisses thrusting your head back down towards his throbbing cock. “Just like that, yeah, keep sucking it. Good girl. Oj brat, slow down, Don’t wanna tire her out before the punishment is over, ehh?” 

“Oh, right, sorry”  And just like that, Yuji pulls out, leaving you gaping and empty. Then pushes back in a tiny bit, just the tip, that does nothing to dull your need. If anything, it makes it fucking worse. 

You’re sobbing, frustrated tears well up in your eyes as your pussy begs for friction, just a little is all you need to get off. You spread your legs wider, bucking your hips trying to get Yuji’s cock all the way inside you again. Then you whine around Sukuna’s dick still rocking your mouth, the hand in your hair keeping you firmly in place. You lose it, then tremble in relief as he finally pushes a little deeper inside you, filling you painfully slowly. Yuji leans over you, to mutter in your ear in an unfamiliar almost sadistic tone that’s enough to make you gush.

“Shh shh shh baby, it’s okay, hey. We’ll take good care of you soon. You just have to tell honestly; do you know who’s who?”   

You want to answer him, you really do, but Sukuna’s cock in your mouth keeps you from speaking. Your silence lands you into another torturous- delicious punishment that makes you certain you’ll always lie and say you can’t tell the difference between them. 

Author note: I know you thought of it too, admit it, those two are dangerous but delicious~ Thank you for reading and hope to see you on the next kinktober fic as well!

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[trulyy-yourzz]

heyyyy!!! How are you?😊

me again

so I was wondering if you could do one where Billie is dating jesse(she doesn’t really love him) and r is Jesse’s younger sister and r has a secret relationship with Billie ( just some smut and fluff at the same time)

I’m so down bad for this woman 😩

Answer when you can ❤️❤️

Ily 🤭

I am SO sorry for how long this took! I've been exhausted. But here you go, babe 💝 ily!!!

✿Fluff. – ♡Smut.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

You loved her. So much that it drove you crazy. You'd always day dream about what could you couldn't be. But considering your brother, Jesse, had managed to get to her first, you decided to attempt to let those feelings go. You felt there was no point in pursuing a one-sided relationship that would never happen... or so you thought.

Billie was always a huge flirt. That's just how she was. From time to time, you'd catch her hands on your waist, hugging you from behind, her hands ever so soft and warm on your skin. Whenever you felt significantly close to her, it was like you were on cloud nine... only you and her mattered, nothing else.

Your family decided to host a small get-together and insisted on Billie coming since she was 'part of the family' now. You were happy for them... really. But having to see her all the time wasn't particularly helping how you felt about her. She was all you thought about. Ever since she first told you her name, thats all that crowded your thoughts. You'd wonder when and where you would see her next, what kind of face she'd make once she saw you, and so on.

You got a call from your brother saying he couldn't make it to come pick you up from your university because he was being forced by your parents to help prepare dinner. So he suggested Billie come pick you up, but in an instant, you began to protest against the idea. Alone. With Billie. In her car. You wouldn't survive a single second.

But after many arguments and speaking over one another, you gave in. Immediately after hanging up, he called Billie, and she was more than happy to go and pick you up. She'd always wanted some time alone with you... to talk, of course. You'd always been acting strange around her but she wasn't dumb. She knew exactly what was bothering you. And she was gonna make that known.

Almost half an hour later, she arrived at the gates of your dorms, rolling down the window and greeting you with that bright smile you loved so much, gesturing for you to get in. You hesitated for a second, contemplating on whether or not you go. You made up all types of excuses in your head on why you wouldn't be able to attend. But by the time you were in the passenger seat of her car. Your seat belt on. It was too late.

"Hi angel" angel. You felt your insides warm up, her voice so soothing it sent you straight into bliss.

"Hi," was all you could mutter out between those pretty lips of yours. Those same pretty lips Billie looked over and began to stare at once she stopped at a red light.

You felt your heart race pick up. You were nervous. And she could tell from just the smallest change in your demeanor. You were biting your lip and fiddling with the leather seat belts of her dodge challenger.

The red stop light luminated over her soft flush skin, her bright blue eyes, and her plump lips that were the prettiest shade of pink.

She rested her hand on your thigh, and you had to physically restrain a moan from slipping through your lips. "You okay, angel?" You nodded your head, and the light turned green. She moved back to her original position, focusing on the road, but her hand still lingered on your thigh, dangerously close to the growing heat between your legs.

You couldn't help but stare and admire the way her hand gripped the wheel, steering it with one hand. Her other rested on your thigh as her eyebrows furrowed, focusing on the road.

Billie's phone rang, the words 'my love' popping up on the screen, making your heart drop and fill up with guilt. You felt like you were deceiving your own brother. You'd never do anything to harm their relationship purposely.

Billie's hand left the placement on your thigh to grab her phone, the warmth slowly dissipating from your skin as you took a breath, trying to gather yourself and your thoughts.

Apparently, from what you overheard, Jesse had called just to check on us, 'make sure we were safe'. She turned to you smiling, and you felt like your heart was gonna burst at any moment. She was perfect.

"We're fine. Almost there." And soon after, she hung up. Unfortunately, her hand didn't go back to your thigh. But you weren't allowed to be disappointed. You weren't her lover, and she wasn't yours.

After a long drive, you and Billie finally made it to the house. She pulled into the driveway, putting the car in park as she looked over at you, but this was different. She looked at you like she wanted to enrapture you and keep you for herself.

You swallowed hard. And that didn't go unnoticed by her as she licked her lips, looking at yours in the process. "Billie?"

"Thats my name. Dont wear it out sweetheart." She leaned in closer, and without even noticing, you did the same. Your lips were so close you could feel her every single breath. You wanted to kiss her so bad. To tangle your fingers in her hair as she swallowed your last bit of oxygen.

"Please." You said breathly, almost pleading.

She just smirked and ran her thumb across your bottom lip. She could tell you were desperate. You always were. Every since she laid eyes on you and you laid eyes on her. There'd always been a connection, and the more either of you tried to ignore it, the more it burned.

"We should go in. Yeah?" Your eyes fell down to her lips, watching them move as she spoke to you so softly... so seductively. You didn't want to go inside. You didn't want to watch her act like she was so in love with your brother when she obviously wasn't.

She got out of the car, walking over to the passenger side to open the door for you. You wished she could do this for you all the time.

You smiled nervously and swung your feet out of the vehicle and onto the pavement, grabbing onto the hand that she held out, offering to help you out of her car.

You two walked inside, greeting your parents and your brother. Billie did the same as she kissed Jesse on the cheek with those same lips you wanted on your skin so damn bad.

Once your parents finished chatting up a storm and catching up about random stuff by the door, everyone sat down at the dinner table. Billie sat down next to you and Jesse sat on the opposite side of her.

You were enjoying your food quietly in peace. And everyone else talked about whatever it was they were talking about... honestly, you didn't care very much.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your thigh, and that same warmth from earlier returned. You glanced down at the hand rested on your leg and back up to look at billie, who hadn't been paying attention to you at all, pretending like she wasn't touching you from underneath the table. You cleared your throat and continued eating, brushing it off and ignoring it as much as you could.

Billie noticed and slid her hand up farther, her finger brushing against your clothed heat and attempting to get a reaction out of you. Everyone was too engrossed in their conversation to even notice what was going on.

This was fun to her. Sneaking around and touching you in ways she knew would get you all riled up. She loved it. The face you made whenever she hugged you a certain way, smiled a certain way, or even looked at you and certain way.

Jesse noticed your heavy breathing and strange behavior, looking at you with a concerned expression plastered across his face. "Sis, you okay?" You cleared your throat and looked up at him, nodding your head as you reassured him, letting him know you were just fine.

Except you weren't fine. This whole situation between you and billie was wrong. You grabbed onto billies wrist, preventing her from going any farther than she already was.

You stood up from your chair, holding onto your half empty plate. "I'm really tired... classes today were exhausting, so I think im gonna head to bed first." Jesse and your parents shrugged, wishing you goodnight and sweet dreams. They were a little concerned, but understanding of the long day you had.

You proceeded into the kitchen, setting your plate by the sink with the rest of the dirty dishes before sighing heavily.

Maybe some rest would clear your head. Today did actually end up being exhausting, so you needed it.

You took a long hot shower and changed into your favorite pajamas, climbing into the bed as the ac blew cool air into your room. The same room you grew up in as a child.

You remembered counting all the glow in the dark stars that stuck to your ceiling every night to help you sleep better.

So you turned, facing the ceiling and your face lit up with a smile as you realized they were still there. You counted and counted all the stars that stuck to your ceiling until the next thing you know... you were fast asleep.

A few hours later, you felt the other side of your bed sink, hands latching onto your hips as you were pulled closer to the warmth behind you.

You hummed, but it turned into a gentle moan, feeling pressure onto your now heated cunt. You felt the soft flesh of someone lips run across your neck before a kiss was plastered onto it.

"Try not to be so loud, okay? Your eyes widened, realizing who it was behind you.

You figured it was Billie, but once you were reassured it was, you panicked.

"Wait..." You grabbed onto the hand that rested on your waist, attempting to free yourself from her grasp, but she fought back. Keeping you in her embrace as she shifted her knee in-between your thighs, earning a slutty moan that escaped from your lips.

She chuckled softly, feeling you instinctively move your hips, seeking any kind of pleasure you could get out of this.

"Fuck..." You said shakily, your legs beginning to tremble as the grip on your waist tightened, moving your hips faster.

"Atta girl."

Billie sneaked her hand farther up your shirt and realized you didn't have a bra on, only making it easier for her to get ahold of your breasts. She kissed your neck, groaning as she circled your sensitive perked up nipples.

She was downright obsessed with your breast. The way they sat up perfectly in any low-cut shirt you wore always caught her attention. Plus, they fit in her hands perfectly. It's like you were made for her.

Her other hand kept a stern grip on your hips, making sure your pace never faltered as you chased after your release. You choked on a moan, feeling her twist, pull, and play with your breast like it was her favorite toy.

Your body convulsed, eyes rolling back once you were close. So fucking close and she could feel it. Not only could she feel how close you were, but she could feel how much you loved her. She always could. And now that she had you in your arms, she wasn't letting go.

You gasped for air and gripped onto the sheets beneath you as you came all over her leg, leaving a damp spot on her pajama pants in the process. But she didn't mind it at all.

"So pretty."

Billie traced her fingers over the line of your jaw and pulled you tight to her chest. She'd wanted your mouth on hers for months, and now that it was happening, she wanted to savor the moment.

Your lips parted as her thumb brushed over their petal softness, and you combed your fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck. Tingles washed down your back as she closed the gap between your mouths, first with the utmost gentleness, then with the hunger of a starved man. You made a delicious little sound and responded with the same hunger, sparking a fire in her belly. She didn't want it to stop.

"I love you."

°

°

°

Notes: special thanks to @tan1shere for helping me write this!! ILY💝

[erwinsvow]

“what’s this?” you ask, eyes wide and that pretty smile he likes so much taking over your features. “am i forgetting something?”

like always, you’re hesitant to accept it. no matter what he gets you—fancy dinners at the club, pretty shoes that you keep eyeing at the store, ice cream after one of your frequent dates—you get shy about having him spend money on you. you’re real cute about it, he thinks, when you twirl around wearing the dress from today’s trip before dinner, showing him your new outfit. 

you pick up your flowery heels and carry them in your hand when the two of you are walking along the beach. “i can’t get them dirty, rafe!” is what you tell him when he looks at you like you’re crazy, making your face heat up. he carries them for you the rest of the way. 

you cling to his arm, staring at the new bracelet and enjoying the way it shines in the sun, moves down your wrist when you hang onto rafe. he catches you staring at it all throughout the day, whenever you think he’s not looking. jokes on you—he’s always looking at you. 

“open it,” he says back, wanting to see your reaction. rafe’s gaze is always intense, but it feels even more so right now, your heart thudding fast in your chest. 

“wait, rafe, what did i forget?” “nothing, kid, just open it.”

“i didn’t take you for the type to celebrate monthiversaries.” you rustle through your purse, suddenly feeling nervous, pulling something out and offering it to him on your palm. “all i have for you is.. a pack of gum and some lip gloss. but i think this shade would look great on you, do you want it-”

he rolls his eyes, shoving your hand down so the items in your hand fall. 

“stop being a brat and just open it, before i take it back.” 

big eyes watching him, you unwrap the yellow ribbon, taking a second to admire it before you notice rafe’s stare, causing you to put it aside and lift the little white box. inside is a pretty, sparkly chain with a cursive R pendant hanging from it. 

you look up at rafe and then down at the necklace, confusion twisting over your face. your breath catches in your throat, eyes getting watery immediately.

“you like it?” he asks, voice low and serious. when he brings his hand to your chin to lift your face up so he can take a look at you, tears overflow and spill down your cheeks. he balks, panicking. “what, kid? did i get the wrong color or somethin’?”

“rafe-” you say, voice quiet and whimpery, choked up with your crying. you pull him into a hug, crawling into his lap, softly sobbing into his neck. he’s scared shitless for a second, wondering what the hell he did wrong because he thought you would love it—since you’re always blabbing on and on about how you like it when he marks you up and everyone knows who you belong to. he rubs your back and strokes your hair, wondering if he can take it back to get you one you’ll like, when you pull away to give him a hot, wet kiss. it goes on for minutes, your hands in his hair and his hands on your hips.

“wait, so you, you like it?”

“i love it, rafe.” you lean back in to finish the kiss. when you pull away, you’re not smiling like you usually are. “but this is too much. you’re spending so much on me-”

“because i want to,” he interjects, eager to not let you finish your sentence.

“it’s not okay,” you whine, trying to pull away but rafe holds you firmly in place, still in his lap. “what’re people gonna think if they see-”

“who cares what they think? ‘cause i don’t. if i wanna get something shiny for my girl, i’m gonna. no one’s gonna stop me, not even you.” he watches you take in his words, eyes wide and little head spinning. “now be a good girl, let me put it on.”

you comply automatically, like always, turning around and holding your hair up so he can put the necklace on easily. your body shivers at his touch, almost starts shaking when he clips the necklace into place and presses a kiss to the back of your neck, if he wasn’t holding you tight.

“now, what'd you say?”

“thank you, daddy.”

[headcaasefiction]

Kinktober 2024

Day 4: Humiliation/Praise

(Dracule Mihawk/AFAB!Reader)

Minors Do Not Interact

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 12,350

Summary: Y/N is a student at Dracule Mihawk’s academy for swordsmen, and harbors a massive crush on him. She is a teacher’s pet, his star pupil, and she would do anything for him. Things become heated when Mihawk begins to push and test her limits, both publicly and privately.

Warnings: Non-negotiated Kink, Masturbation, Vaginal Fingering, DubCon, Student/Teacher relationship, Drinking, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Mentions of Anal, Spanking, Sir Kink, Dominant/Submissive, Biting/Marking, Pet Names.

Author’s Note: Well…October has been kicking my ass. I had so many fics planned for Kinktober (I still do, they will get written eventually, just not all in October) and then I got sick. Then this one completely got away from me, it’s twice as long as I ever intended it to be. I also know that it’s not the 4th, but this was the 4th prompt on my Kinktober list, so I’m not going to worry about the dates lining up. Anyway, I hope this 12,000+ word fic makes up for my absence lately. I love you all and hope you enjoy!

You have been a pupil of Mihawk’s Academy for just over a year now. There is yourself, and fourteen other students who live with him in his castle on the grounds of Gloom island, all learning the art of Swordsmanship together.

Mihawk is a brutal master, who expects nothing less than complete and utter devotion, discipline, and concentration from every single one of his students. At the beginning of the year there had been twenty in the group, now only fifteen remain. The others either left on their own accord, or at the very worst, were personally cast out by Mihawk himself.

You swore you would see your training to the very end, no matter how many years or even decades it took, swore you would stop at nothing in order to be his most dedicated student.

Every day you wake before the crack of dawn; you clean and nourish yourself, perform your warm up exercises, clean your sword, and then wait patiently at the training grounds with a copy of a book you have previously seen him read. Every day, you are the very first to arrive, and the last to leave every training session.

All of your fellow swordsmen tend to poke fun at you for your rigid regime, especially because you know you are not the strongest pupil at the academy. You rely more on defense, your offense lacking brute strength, but making up for it with how physically fast and quick-witted you can be during sparring matches.

Above all else, they call you a teacher’s pet. Though that’s very easy to tell, seeing as you hang onto Mihawk’s every word, are the first to volunteer for any new exercises or demonstrations, and meticulously practice the routines and techniques until you can’t physically hold your sword any longer.

A few, who you do consider to be your friends, have even figured you out.

“You like him, don’t you?” Maryelle had asked you one night, with a playful gleam in her eye, causing your cheeks to burn a deep shade of crimson red, “Look, I get it. He’s sexy in a scary kind of way.”

Your other friend, Hari piped in as well, “I guess that’s why I don’t get it,” he shrugged, “He’s such a stoic hardass. Yeah, he’s the world’s greatest swordsman, and a good teacher, but he freaks me out.”

You had laughed, still a bit embarrassed, but you admitted, “A little, but I also think he’s brilliant, and beautiful…”

It is the highlight of your entire week if he even casts a spare glance your way, those piercing golden eyes sending shivers up your spine… but during one session, just a week ago, he did something that you’re pretty sure made your entire year:

While he was wandering the training grounds, watching each student practice the new blade technique he had just taught, he paused to observe you. You held your gaze straight forward, trying to pretend like he wasn’t there, just focusing on controlling your legs, arms, and sword down to the smallest detail. After you completed the movements several times, he approached you, getting so close you could feel his warm breath tickle the shell of your ear, as he lowly whispered, “Good girl.”

He walked away as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The interaction left you stunned, breathless, with an ocean of heat roaring in your blood.

That night you touched yourself; rubbing your clit and stuffing as many of your fingers in your wet, greedy cunt as you could manage. You imagined he was at the foot of your bed, lounging in a chair, arms and legs crossed, glowing eyes gazing at you as he told you, “Good girl…now cum for me.”

The next day, you were noticeably distracted. Instead of listening intently to the lecture Mihawk was giving, you were paying far much more attention to the color and fullness of his lips, the sharp, devilishly handsome angle of his jaw and cheek bones, the firm tautness of his bare chest and abdomen, and how his tall, broad figure would look leaning over you as he thrust into your –

“Y/N.”

His booming voice had violently snatched you out of your daydream, leaving you dazed and horrified as you noticed that every single one of your classmates’ eyes were focused on you. Your entire body flushed, and you could’ve sworn that the tips of your ears were burning off.

“Y-yes, Sir?”

“Would you be so kind as to demonstrate the shikake-waza and oji-waza I described at the beginning of the lesson?”

You had no idea what he was talking about, not a single clue. His eyes were burning holes into you with unblinking, direct contact. The courtyard was completely silent, except for the faint sounds of birds chirping in the trees. You felt as though you would be crushed under the unbearable weight of the shocked expressions of your peers as you sheepishly stuttered your answer, “I-I can’t, Sir. I do not know them…”

“Were you or were you not standing there as I myself, demonstrated them this morning?”

You were so embarrassed you thought you might faint, you bit your lip before responding, “Yes, I was standing right here.”

He stalked towards you, leaning down just inches from your face, “No point in coming so early if you can’t even bother to pay attention. No one likes a performer, Y/N.”

With that he turned on his heel and walked back to the center of the courtyard, leaving you trembling, and nearly in tears. The hushed whispers of your fellow pupils ringing in your ears as the lesson continued on, Mihawk calling on another student to perform what you could not.

The following days after, you were determined to get back in his good graces. He had been impressed with you before, had called you a good girl, and you refused to let one slip up ruin everything you had worked so hard for. But that was proving to be more of a challenge than you previously thought.

Throughout the rest of the week you seemed to have a target on your back, and Mihawk’s hawk-eyes were completely locked in on it. No matter how hard you tried, nothing you did was good enough for him. Your stance was lousy, your posture was poor, your movements too slow, your techniques not accurate, your sword not sharp enough. The list continued, with every single criticism said loudly, and within earshot for the entirety of your peer group to hear.

“Y/N, what did you do to piss him off so badly?” Maryelle had asked, brow furrowed with concern, “I’ve never seen him be this hard on someone before… do you think he’s going to throw you out of the academy?”

You shook your head, feeling defeated. You were exhausted, both physically and emotionally, “I really don’t know… I didn’t mean to zone out at the beginning of the week, I’ve just had a lot on my mind I guess.”

Hari patted you on the shoulder, and with a surprisingly sympathetic tone, he said, “I doubt he’s going to kick you out, he probably would’ve already done that by now. Maybe he’s just pushing you super hard so you unleash your true potential or something.”

“You’re probably right. I can’t afford to slack for even a moment, I know I can do better.”

“Soo…do you still have a crush on him then?” Maryelle teased, poking you in the side.

“Shut up,” you grinned, your cheeks glowing a light pink as you gently shoved her by the shoulder.

That had made you feel a little better, kept your spirits up and reignited your will power. You were going to impress him and show your worth even if it fucking killed you.

Training was still extraordinarily tough though, and it was well established at this point that Mihawk was picking on you in front of everyone when he forced you to spar with five of your classmates in a row one morning.

You panted hard as your chest heaved with exertion; heart beating in your throat, hair wild and dripping with sweat, and more than a few cuts and bruises littered your skin.

“Again.” He demanded, motioning at another student to come forward.

Your fellow pupil looked more than a little concerned, hesitantly glancing between you and Mihawk before taking her stance, sword in hand. Even out of concern for your safety, no one was willing to challenge the teachings of their master.

Without another word you lunged forward, swords clashing as you tried to dive in between her waist and arm to twist the blade from her grasp. It was an attempt to end the fight as quickly as possible, as you were not sure how much longer you could last. But you failed the disarm, her hand hooking under your armpit and flinging you over her shoulder before throwing you to the ground, knocking the wind out of you.

You groaned in pain, struggling to get air into your constricted lungs, while little black spots dipped in and out of your vision, one hand blindly groping the ground for your sword that you could not find.

Suddenly Mihawk was looming over you, tall, broad, and terrifying, almost how he looked in your nighttime fantasies and daydreams. Your sword was gripped in his hand, and he had a stern and disappointed look that shadowed over his face. He tsked at you, bringing the tip of your blade to your chin to slightly lift your head up towards him.

“Is that all you have left in you?”

You bit your lip, chest still heaving to catch your breath, fingers gripped tight in the grass beneath you as a single tear slid down the side of your face. You had no words, you just gently shook your head, and squeezed your eyes shut in defeat.

“Pity… go clean yourself up. Meet me in the ball room after lunch. Bring your sword.” He then drove your sword into the ground close by your shoulder, turned his back, and began to walk towards the castle, “Class dismissed.”

The rest of the students cleared out of the courtyard almost immediately, some gave you looks of pity, others completely ignored your pathetic, sprawled out body and rushed inside, grateful that they were not the object of Mihawk’s wrath.

Hari and Maryelle were the only ones that stayed behind with you, grabbing your sword and helping you to sit up as you began to sob. This was more than embarrassment, this had gone so much farther beyond that point now. You had never felt so utterly humiliated in your entire life, and now you had to face him alone later that afternoon.

Maryelle held you as you cried, arm wrapped tight around you as you limped and leaned against her back to your room, Hari carrying your sword for you with a hand softly placed on your back.

“He’s a prick, Y/N.”

“I know, I know,” you cried, sitting on the edge of your bed with your head in your hands, “I just want him to like me!”

Later that afternoon, after you cleaned yourself up, soaked your aching limbs in the tub, and bandaged your minor wounds, you joined Maryelle and Hari in the dining hall for lunch. When you entered, an uncomfortable silence hung in the room, followed by a surge of hushed tones and whispers as you walked to your seat.

Both Hari and Maryelle rolled their eyes as you sat down next to them, “Ignore them, they’re assholes.”

You began to pick at your food, trying your best to calm your frazzled nerves, “I know, they’re honestly the least of my worries right now.”

“…what do you think is going to happen?” Maryelle asked softly.

“I have no idea. He could throw me out, he could scream at me, he could fight me, he could kill me…”

Hari’s eyes went wide, and he grabbed your hand, “Y/N, he’s not going to kill you… everything is going to be okay.”

“I sure hope so.”

Once the clock in the dining room chimed 1:00, signaling the end of the lunch hour, you nervously made your way across the castle, and finally ended up outside the large and lavish doors of the ballroom. You had only ever been inside the room once, and it was back when it was your first day on the island. He had lined the entire class up and gave a speech about what he expected out of each and every one of you, how his word was law, and that you all would only be allowed to stay as long as he personally wanted you to.

Before grabbing the large brass handle, you hesitated, anxiety flooding your nervous-system, your pulse thumping in your ears. What if he was going to ask you to leave? And then tell you what a disappointment and waste of time you were all of these months?

Instead you shoved down the racing thoughts, gripped your sword tight, put on a brave face, and opened the door.

He was waiting for you on the far side of the room, seated in a plush red velvet and wood chair reading an old leather bound book.

“Come in.” He ordered, with a subtle flick of his hand, not even looking up from the page.

You closed the door behind you and walked toward him, posture straight, shoulders back as you held your head high, trying to act like you weren’t scared out of your wits. You stopped in front of him, crossing your arms behind your back to wait for further instructions.

After he finished reading his page he placed a bookmark to save his spot, and then he finally looked up at you, eyes as piercing and frightening as ever.

“Do you know why I asked you here today, Y/N?”

You tried to swallow a lump that suddenly formed in your throat, your mouth dry. You cleared your throat and spoke up, “B-because I was unable to finish my sparring match today?”

Mihawk closed his book and set it aside, rising from his seat to his full height to tower over you, and look you straight in the eyes, “No, not because of that.”

He stepped even closer, forcing you to crane your neck to hold his gaze, refusing to back down from the slight advance.

Your brows furrowed, your hands clenching and unclenching with a touch of nerves and confusion, “Do you… do you want me to fight you, Sir?”

It was nearly impossible to read the expression on his face most of the time, always so stoic, stern, and serious, so this time you were taken aback by the slight smirk that graced his face for a moment. He turned around, placing his hat on the same side table where he put his book, before walking over to a rack that held several variations of swords. He pondered them for a moment, then picked up a long, slender rapier, one that was quite similar to your own.

“You’re a good fighter, Y/N, but a sword fight would be very one-sided, I’m afraid.”

The way he put that was odd, you thought, while you watched him gracefully swish the sword in a sharp arch over his head, testing the balance of it.

“I’m sorry, Sir, I’m a little bit confused…”

Suddenly, without warning, he lunged at you; the tip of his blade piercing through the air at lightning speed, and it was like you were seeing it happen in slow motion. Without even thinking, you ducked out of the way, rolling back and to the side to create some distance between the two of you.

You leaped up onto your feet, extending your sword just above your head in time to parry his next attack, the clash of metal ringing throughout the room. He swung at you again, narrowly missing your shoulder as you spun around, twisting low to the ground to aim for his knee. He blocked that too, exerting his weight and tremendous strength through the blade, sending you sliding back on the marble floor onto your knees.

“Good, very good,” he drawled, standing up straight once more from his attack position, “Even quicker than this morning, I see.”

You breathed slowly, in through your nose and out of your mouth, trying your best to steady your heart-rate. He had truly taken you by surprise, and you were almost sure you would’ve been dealing with a rather painful puncture wound had you not stepped out of the way in time.

From your new position on the floor, you realized he had barely moved, but somehow had managed to get you to three separate points in the room, all within 10 to 15 feet of each other. Yet he just stood there, looking at the blade he held in his hands, as if he were bored.

That image of him lit a fire under your ass. He was just toying with you, toying with you like he had been doing all damn week, and he looked good while doing it. This stupid man, who was the object of your desire, who you gave up your entire life for to follow his teachings. This stupid man whose approval you craved more than anything else on earth, whose hypnotic voice had crippled your year long streak of concentration, and resolve with only two words. This man, who was so stupid, and tall, and handsome, and perfect and it made you want to scream.

In a sudden fit of rage, a pure lapse in judgement, you rose to your feet and ran at him full force. You darted your blade out forward, first to his right, then left, and up towards his neck while simultaneously crouching down to kick out your leg, a vain attempt to push him off balance. None of it worked; he blocked and out-maneuvered every single slash, blow, and limb that you swiped at him, while not even breaking a sweat.

With an angry shout, you rose your blade above your head to slash down at him one more time, a stupid, childish move that left you extremely open and vulnerable.

Before you even knew it, he parried you, knocking your sword straight from your grasp, causing it to scatter across the room. Then with another sudden movement, he snatched both of your wrists up in one of his large hands, shoved you against the nearest wall, and pinned them above your head.

You expected him to point his blade at your throat, demand that you beg to stay, or possibly tell you to pack your things and get the hell out before he decided to kill you. But he said no such thing, instead he just ended up surprising you again.

“I think that’s quite enough of that,” he said calmly, setting the sword aside to lean on a nearby bookshelf while one of his knees slid between your legs, making your eyes go wide.

Heat shot through you, sparks of pleasure licking up your insides as he gazed down at you. He was close, so close you knew he could see the deep blush that covered your face and neck; so close that he could see your dilated pupils, blown wide with desperate need.

You panicked, attempting to free your arms and squirm away from him before he could figure out how your body was reacting. But it was no use, his grip was too strong, and his other free hand rested on the wall by your waist. He had caged you in, leaving you completely open to him with nowhere to run to or hide.

“Sir p-please, I’m sorry… I – please don’t make me leave…”

And just when you thought nothing else could shock you anymore, once again you were wrong. Dracule Mihawk smiled at you; a teasing, condescending smile, but a smile none the less, as he inched his knee even further between your legs, “Why would I make you leave when I have you exactly where I want you?”

You were at a loss for words, only an involuntary whimper fell from your lips as you went slack, surrendering all will to his control, ready for whatever he was going to do to you.

“You’re one of my star pupils, Y/N,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over your collarbone, leaving goosebumps in their wake, “Your devotion and dedication have not gone unnoticed this past year.”

It felt like your entire body was vibrating on a molecular level, little bursts of heat rolling through your stomach, making your clit throb, aching to be touched. Your eyes fluttered shut, burning every single detail of this moment into your memory.

He pressed himself fully against you, making you gasp as his lips brushed the shell of your ear, “But you can’t scrape by on book smarts and quick reflexes alone. I expect great things of my favorite student.”

You looked up at him, eyes half-lidded, feeling punch drunk and dizzy from his close proximity, “I’m your…favorite?”

In response he smirked at you, his hand finding your waist, thumb grazing over your hipbone, “I know I’ve been cruel this week, but I cannot let the others suspect my favoritism. Let’s keep this between us, yes?”

You nodded dreamily at him as soft shivers tingled under your skin where he touched you, your fingers twitching slightly in his grip, “Y-yes, Sir. I promise I won’t tell anybody.”

“Good girl…” He breathed, and that almost made you cum right then and there. Instead, you bit your lip, trying to stifle the small whimper that poured from your lips.

Finally, he released your hands, causing them to drop weakly to your sides; your knees almost buckling beneath you as he backed away.

“Your training will only get more difficult from here on out, expect to be on your guard at all times now. I don’t want you getting too comfortable.”

He left you dazed as you leaned against the wall, trying to get your bearings while he sat back down in his chair to continue reading his book.

“That is all, Y/N. You are excused.” He said with another wave of his hand, as if your interaction had never even occurred.

With a weak nod you pushed yourself from the wall, your knees still quivering with excitement as you walked past him, picked up your sword, and gently closed the doors behind you.

“Sooo, what happened?” Maryelle had asked as soon as she saw you wandering the corridors hours later, “Are you okay?”

All you could do was shrug, with a gentle shake to your head, attempting to be as nonchalant as possible, “Nothing, we just talked.”

“You just-…you just talked?”

“Yup… we just talked.”

You avoided anyone else for the rest of the day, opting to hike up the hills and train by yourself to relieve your confusion and pent-up frustrations. Later that night, as you got ready for bed, you touched yourself in the shower, biting your wrist while you whimpered and moaned his name, pretending your fingers were his fucking into you while he had you trapped against the wall, fingertips torturing your clit.

The memory of his warm breath tickling your neck, and firm body pressed against yours lulled you to sleep, with those two words echoing in your mind, “Good girl…”

It was finally the end of the long, tortuous week you had endured. As usual, you got up and performed your morning rituals, reading in the courtyard of the training grounds as your peers began trickling in to join you. But much to your and your classmates’ surprise, instead of the normal training session with Mihawk, he announced that he would be going on an excursion for the next week. It had been months since any of you had gotten a break, and he made it a point to tell everyone to actually enjoy the time off.

“My presence is requested by orders of the World Government, which means I will take leave for a week. I suggest you all continue your training on an individual level, but also request that you relax your bodies and minds. One cannot remain sharp without easing one’s troubles every now and then. I only ask that you do not burn the castle to the ground. Anything out of place upon my return, and well…let’s not find out what I would have in store for you all. Class excused.”

As soon as Mihawk left the courtyard, with a swoop of his long coat, and the shadow of his tall figure disappearing down one of the corridors, the entire class bursts out in celebration. Some jumping up and down, cheering and yelling, others immediately beginning to plan for a party and dinner.

Hari and Maryelle come up to you, beaming with excitement.

“A whole week, Y/N can you believe it?!” Maryelle gushes, grabbing your hand to walk along with them, “At least you’ll get a break from his royal jerkiness, yeah?”

“And there’s already a big dinner party being planned for tonight, you’re coming right?” Hari asks.

You were excited to spend more time with your friends, and after the hellish week you had just gone through, you were grateful for some time off, some relief. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed that you wouldn’t be seeing Mihawk for an entire week, especially after the tantalizing moment you shared with each other in the ballroom yesterday.

With a forced smile you squeeze Maryelle’s hand and wrap your arm around Hari’s shoulders, trying to cover up your disappointment, “Of course I’ll be there! How about we hit the wine cellar as well? I doubt he’ll miss a few of the not-so-vintage bottles.”

They both grin deviously, clapping you on the back, “Now that’s what I’m talking about, you deserve to let loose a little. Maybe we can even find someone to take your mind off that lousy Hawk-eye.”

You roll your eyes, the three of you following the stream of people back into the castle, a glint of knowing in your eye, “You can try, but I doubt it.”

It was now several hours into the evening festivities, Mihawk has only been gone half the day and already the entire class has taken over the dining hall and common room. A few people have even found a set of instruments and are busy keeping a small group dancing. Some are scattered in small circles drunkenly chatting away, others off in pairs, shamelessly making out in the darkened corners of the room, or sneaking away to the dorms for a quickie.

At the beginning of the night you had been glued to Hari and Maryelle’s side, but as the three of you continued to down glass after glass of the rich red wine Mihawk kept the castle stocked with, you could tell that your presence was getting in the way of their drunken flirting. So you left them sitting together on a couch, Maryelle halfway in Hari’s lap.

You pick up your wine glass and make your way back to the kitchen, searching for an unopened bottle to nurse for the rest of the night.

“May I tempt you?” You hear a low voice ask you from behind.

You turn around, and are met with one of your classmates named Raegan, a tall, blond, decently handsome, and talented swordsman you have sparred with on a few occasions. He’s uncorking a bottle, and smiling down at you as he gestures toward your empty glass.

“Oh please! Thank you.” You smile at him, a slight blush on your cheeks as you give him a once over while he pours you a hefty glass.

“Are you enjoying the night, Y/N?” Raegan questions, tone calming and polite, and thankfully not overly intoxicated like almost everyone else.

“I am!” You nod, taking a sip of your wine, “It’s been one hell of a week, so I’m glad we can all relax for a while. Plus it’s so nice to casually socialize, it seems like the only thing we ever talk about is training.”

“I agree with you there,” he laughs softly, leaning closer to you, “Well, you deserve a break after the hard time he’s been giving you recently. I’m assuming everything went okay when you saw him after lunch? A lot of us we pretty worried about you.”

Your heart-rate elevates slightly at the mention of yesterday’s meeting with Mihawk, your cheeks turning an even darker shade of red as you try to push the memories to the back of your mind.

“Y-yes, it went fine. We just had a talk is all, about-… about me making sure I’m living up to my potential,” you stammer, a little flustered.

Raegan leans down, looking closely at your face while he presses the back of his hand to your forehead, “Are you feeling alright? You’re looking a little red, and you feel warm.”

The gentle gesture catches you off guard, causing a small swarm of butterflies to flutter in your stomach for a moment. You’re flattered by his concern, and it has been such a long time since you’ve allowed yourself to freely flirt with anybody, that you forget about your unrequited crush on your teacher for just a moment. So much of your attention has been focused on Mihawk that you forgot to look that way at anyone else.

“Yeah, I’m fine…it’s just the-…it’s just the wine is all.” You giggle as his hand leaves your forehead, fingertips ghosting down the side of your face as he pulls away.

He smiles at you again, picking up the bottle while he nods toward the common room, “Good. Care to sit and finish this off with me then? I’d love your company.”

“Absolutely.”

He leads you out of the kitchen, and you find an unoccupied couch in a back corner, where you can actually hear each other talk.

As the night continues on, and the warm intoxication from the wine begins to settle in, you notice that you have been inching closer and closer to Raegan for the last half hour. Your thighs pressed flush against one another as you flirt shamelessly, touching his leg when you laugh at one of his jokes.

The wine continues to feed your courage, and you find yourself almost half in his lap, his large hand finally settling on your thigh, giving it a warm squeeze.

“I’m glad this happened tonight,” he says, his thumb rubbing back and forth on your inner thigh, “I’ve always wanted to talk to you more, but you’re always so concentrated on training… I never thought someone like you would ever give me the time of day.”

You blush, softly tracing the back of his hand with your fingertips, “I get a little lost in it sometimes… what do you mean someone like me?”

“Someone so dedicated, so humble, and talented…” he leans over and murmurs in your ear, causing a shiver of excitement to run down your spine, and a stirring of butterflies in your tummy, “Someone so absolutely gorgeous.”

You sigh, heart fluttering, Fuck it’s been so long, I need this… His face is so close to yours, shadowed with an intense longing, his gaze looking down from your eyes to your lips. He cradles your jaw in his hand, his thumb swiping over your bottom lip before his eyes flutter shut and he guides his lips to yours.

You sink into the kiss for a moment, your hands gripping at his shirt as your body screams at you for more. But after a few moments you break away, a sudden odd feeling washing over you as Mihawk’s face flashes in your mind.

“I-I’m so-so sorry, Raegan I -,” You stammer, feeling confused and flustered while you gently push at his chest to create some distance.

He looks a little hurt, but mostly concerned as he immediately stops touching you, “It’s okay, really Y/N, I came on a little too strong – …”

“I just need to get some air real quick, okay?” You pick yourself up off the couch and begin to retreat to the hallway, “I’m just going to use the restroom, I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting to hear his reply you stumble out of the common room, away from his sincere eyes and warm touches, feeling a little queasy as you head toward the restroom. There’s a weird pit in the center of your stomach now where pleasure used to be, and you can’t help but feel as if you’ve somehow done something wrong.

Get a grip… you mutter to yourself while you enter the washroom, looking at your reflection for a moment; lips plump from kissing, hair a little wild from where he ran his fingers through it, and cheeks tinged a rosy-pink, both from your excitement and the amount of wine you have consumed.

You relieve yourself and wash up, trying your best to empty your mind. Mihawk wasn’t here, and there was nothing between the two of you anyway. On the other hand, there was a hot, sweet, guy your age in the other room who seemed more than interested in fucking you tonight, and you have every right to indulge in that.

I expect great things of my favorite student… his voice lingers in your memory, and you shake it away as you splash cool water on your face to calm your nerves, before drying your hands and heading back through the corridor.

It’s well into the night, and only a faint trace of light illuminates the dark hallways; a hint of moonlight shining through the windows, and a very distant orange glow from the candles lit in the dining room.

You don’t realize how drunk you are until you’ve left the bathroom, the buzz dulling your vision and coordination as your hand slides against the wall for support. Carefully, you put one foot in front of the other, trying to concentrate on not stubbing your toe or knocking something over.

All of a sudden you feel a shiver go up your spine as a shadow moves out of the corner of your eye, startling you. You spin around, scanning the darkened space in a panic, expecting to have stumbled upon one of your classmates, but no one is there.

With your brow furrowed in confusion, deciding that it was just a trick of the light along with your inebriation, you turn back around to continue forward.

That’s when you feel an arm circle around your waist, pinning your arms to your sides, and a hand grip tightly over your mouth.

Your eyes go wide and you try to scream, but the air is squeezed out of you when you are pulled further back into the hallway; the faint noise you squeak out muffled behind their palm, the heels of your boots dragging silently across the carpet.

Whoever has a hold of you is significantly taller and stronger than you, your struggles doing absolutely nothing against their sheer size and brute strength. Your mind goes into panic mode, the weight of drunkenness slowing your reflexes and sapping away your energy, all ounce of your training gone as you squirm in their arms helplessly.

“My, my, what do we have here? Has a little rabbit lost it’s way?” A deep voice teases, tightening their grip around you more to get you to stop wiggling, “I’d be careful with how you move, little one, I might not be able to control myself,” he purrs into your ear, pressing his pelvis into your ass.

You can feel the bulge in his pants harden as he grinds into you. Heat rushes into your cheeks, flooding through your veins as you whimper into his hand, terrified and turned on at the same time.

“Lucky me, it seems like my little rabbit has had too much to drink,” he drawls in your ear, making your heart thump wildly in your chest, “Makes you nice and pliant for me, doesn’t it? So easy to take advantage.”

He finally removes his hand from your mouth to thread through your hair, forcing your head to the side so he can kiss and bite, sucking dark marks into the tender flesh of your neck.

You go slack in his arms, your strength depleted as you surrender to his will, “P-please, don’t… I-I have someone waiting for me, I won’t tell anyone…”

He licks the shell of your ear, pressing you firm between him and the wall, your back slightly arched, one of his feet kicking your legs a part, “Hmmm, and who would you even tell that would actually believe you?”

Nervously you swallow the lump in your throat in an attempt to sound normal, and not the mixture of scared, horny, and disoriented that you actually feel, “I would tell Sir Mihawk, he-he cares for me, he would believe me. So just let me go, and I promise not to tell him.”

“Is that so?”

To your surprise you are flipped around, your back hitting the wall with a dampened thud as your hands are pinned to either side of your head. In the darkness you see two golden orbs peering down at you, your vision adjusting to the faintly shadowed face of Mihawk.

“Sir?!” You exclaim, completely shocked, “But-but you said you were leaving-…”

“What did I tell you the other day, Y/N, hm?” His grip is tight against your wrists, and his sharp features look even more intimidating and angry in the shadows of the moonlight, “What did I make abundantly clear?”

You wrack your hazy mind for what he could be speaking of, but you can’t seem to think of it. All you can remember is how he felt against you, warm and firm and tantalizing, just as he does now, your body aching to be touched as he whispers to you Good girl, Good Girl, Good Girl…

You bite your lip and press your legs together in desperation, your fingers twitching while you whine, “I’m sorry, I don’t remember…”

“Forgotten already?” He sneers, with a sharp suck to his teeth, “How very disappointed I am in you, Y/N. I’m not gone for even a day and your discipline has completely slipped away. I told you, be on your guard at all times.”

Mentally you slap yourself and squeeze your eyes shut to avoid looking at him, shame sinking into your stomach.

“I warned you not to get too comfortable, that I expect better of you. But what do you do once my back is turned? Get drunk and prowl around looking to get fucked? You think I don’t know what is going on inside my own castle? I know Raegan is waiting for you, waiting to take you to his bed.”

Your eyes snap open wide as you shake your head, “No, no! He-he was nice to me, but nothing hap-…”

But he cuts you off again, and you could swear that he sounds jealous, “Is he the reason why I catch you daydreaming in the middle of training?”

He’s flush against you now, his knee pressed up in between your legs, making you gasp as it nudges your clit through your pants, soaking your panties. His eyes are piercing down at you through the dark, his warm breath ghosting over your lips, his mouth just inches from yours.

“No, Sir, not him. He’s not the one I’m thinking of…”

A moment passes and you see a light flash in his eyes, sudden and intrusive before his lips collide with yours, hungry, possessive, and raw. He nips your bottom lip, causing you to cry out at the sharp pain, silencing you with his tongue as it greedily licks into your mouth.

Pleasure sings through your body, his wicked lips leaving trails of electric ecstasy in their wake while he swallows every gasp and whimper you breathe into him, before finally pulling away.

One of his hands snatches both of your wrists, pinning them above your head while he trails kisses down your neck to your collar bone. His free hand reaches under your shirt to caress up your belly, before cupping one of your breasts in his hands, his thumb and forefinger tugging on the sensitive bud of your nipple.

A moan tears itself from your throat, and you bury your heated face into the side of your arm, embarrassed at how eagerly you are reacting to him, like melted putty in his hands.

He groans softly in response, nipping at your earlobe as his hand wanders further down, fingertips dipping below your waistband.

“Tell me no,” he murmurs, unbuttoning the fly of your pants, and inching down your lower stomach, “Tell me no and I’ll stop.”

The pad of his middle finger caresses you, glides along your slit and up to your aching clit, rubbing little circles through your soft, wet panties. Warmth pools in your tummy, throbbing down to your needy cunt as more slick dribbles out to trail down your quivering thighs.

You’re both staring at each other, half-lidded and slack-jawed, desperate for more as your breath mingles together while he teases you mercilessly.

Tell me no and I’ll stop…

But you don’t want him to stop, only want him to take it further; want him to rip your clothes off, dip his fingers inside, then fuck you so hard against the wall that the entire castle hears you cum on his cock.

The thought makes you ache as you whimper, “Mihawk.”

He smirks down at you, pleased with your reaction while he suddenly withdraws his hand from your pants, making you moan in frustration, “No wait, please don’t stop…”

Your hands are released when he kisses you once more, before backing away to give you space, leaving you wanting.

“I’m afraid our time is up for the night, little rabbit. Meet me in my quarters upstairs after sundown tomorrow, tell no one I am here. Do not be late.”

And just like that he melted into the shadows once more, gone just as fast as he had appeared to you. You have no idea how long you have been gone, the interaction feeling both lightning fast, but also like it had transpired over the course of hours, suspended in time.

Your fingertips brush over your tingling, kiss-swollen lips, the remnants of his touch lingering all along your body; yet being all alone in the dark made it almost feel like it was just a dream.

Slowly you pull yourself together, buttoning back up the front of your trousers and smoothing down your hair and blouse. You glide your hand along the wall again, faster this time since your eyes have adjusted to the darkness.

You walk back into the common room, surprised to see that the celebration has not died down yet, and that Raegan is still waiting for you on the same couch, nursing the same bottle of wine.

His eyes brighten a little when you sit down by him again, though this time you put a little distance between the two of you.

His expression is soft and full of concern as he says, “Hey, Y/N are you okay? I was just about to come looking for you.”

You smile and nod, raking your fingers through your hair a little nervously, “Yeah, I’m so sorry, I had way too much wine…look Raegan, I didn’t mean to - …”

He holds his hand up, cutting you off, “Y/N, I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I came on too strong. I just…I really like you.”

You’re flattered, truly you are, but after what just occurred you know there’s no possibility that anything could ever happen between the two of you now. Dracule Mihawk had laid a claim, and there was no way you could go back.

“Raegan, I like you too. You are gorgeous, seriously, and so sweet…but there is someone else, and that’s not going away any time soon.”

“I understand. They’re lucky whoever they are.”

You smile in response, picking yourself up from the couch once more, your buzz now fading into the realm of exhaustion, “I had a great time with you tonight, but I need to go to bed before I end up on the floor.”

He chuckles, holding his glass up in a toast while you begin to walk towards the doorway, “That’s where I plan on being at the end of the night. Goodnight, Y/N.”

The next day you wake up hung over, two hours past when you normally rise, regretting how much you drank the previous night. You make your way to bathroom, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you turn on the faucet and splash your face.

You look in the mirror, your eyes growing wide when you notice the dark red and purple marks littering up the side of your neck and spread down to the hollow of your collarbone. You groan in frustration, realizing you will have to wear turtle-neck shirts and scarves for the next week to avoid anyone seeing them.

The events of last night rush back through your memory, leaving you reeling. It had all seemed like one big magnificent dream, a perfect fantasy that your mind created. But the evidence is littered all over your skin, and in a moment of panic you remember that you promised to meet him later tonight.

What could he possibly want? Had last night been some sort of trick, some sort of test that you had possibly failed?

For the rest of the day you try your best to not agonize over what awaits you in Mihawk’s study tonight. You take an extra long bath, scrubbing away your hangover, and then sneak down to the dining hall for a late breakfast, with the hopes that you won’t run into anyone there. You’re in luck, as it seems all of your classmates are still sleeping off their night of debauchery.

You pack a small bag and head up to the hills behind the castle to be alone, where you read, eat toast and jam, and practice a little bit with your sword. Eventually the day has gotten away from you, and you are shocked when you realize that the sun will set in less than an hour.

Anxiety quickens your heart beat while you gather your things and make your way down to the castle again, admiring the sky bathing the island in reds, oranges, pinks and purples. You wish it wouldn’t end, because for all you know it could be the last time you see the sunset on Gloom island. For all you know you made a terrible mistake last night and he would be throwing you out.

You walk quickly through the hallways, avoiding every single person you pass until you get to your bedroom. You put your sword away in your closet, and give yourself a once over in the mirror. With a sigh you gather your courage, pushing down the mixture of fear and excitement that rolls in your stomach as you make your way up the stairs.

The last bit of light has faded beyond the horizon of the island, shadowing the castle in a dark, eerie blue that creeps in from the hallway windows of the upper floor. You had never been in any of the rooms up here before, everyone knew the top floor was out of bounds to the students, that it was all private to Mihawk.

At first you were not sure which door to knock on, seeing as he hadn’t been very specific. But that’s when you saw a faint strip of light glowing from under a massive set of ornately carved wooden doors.

Slowly you walk up to the doorway, your heart beating in your throat, palms sweaty from nerves. After a moment of hesitation, you squeeze your eyes shut and knock twice.

The light between the cracks of the doors flickers slightly before they open, revealing Mihawk’s piercing eyes staring down at you. He opens the door all the way once he sees that it’s you, and steps to the side to allow you in.

“Please, come in Y/N.”

You bow your head a little, ducking past him in an attempt to hide the blush that’s deepening across your cheeks, his eyes never leaving you. He closes the door behind you, making goosebumps erupt across your skin with a flash of excitement as he brushes behind your back momentarily, before walking over to a chair by his fireplace.

You look around the room, taking in how gorgeous it is. It’s just his style, all black and red velvet, lavish four post bed, intricate rugs and a large fireplace that lights the entire room a glow. It looks overwhelmingly romantic.

“Uhm, Sir?” You say, lacing and twiddling your fingers together nervously, “Did I…was last night some kind of test?”

There is a pause in the air while Mihawk pours himself a glass of wine, swirling and savoring it with a gentle sip, before his eyes lock onto yours, predatory and serious.

“A test? What kind of test would that be, hm?”

He moves toward you, slowly, his tall form casting a long shadow over you. You bite your lip, and inch back subconsciously, unable to look him in the eyes as he continues his advance.

“I-I’m not sure…” You mutter, glancing up to see him circle around you, “This past week has been so-so… confusing.”

He smirks down at you after taking another sip of his wine, nonchalantly swirling it, eyeing the red liquid as if bored; as if he had no clue how questionable and different your relationship had been lately.

“Whatever do you mean, Y/N? I think I’ve made my intentions abundantly clear.”

Your brows furrow together, and you wipe your perspiring hands against your shirt as he continues to circle you like a hawk, “You’ve been testing me, I’m sure of it…testing my will-power, my patience.”

Mihawk stops in his tracks behind you, and you feel an electric shock pulse up your spine when he caresses the back of your shoulders, making you gasp softly in surprise when he murmurs in your ear, “Is that so? Well then, how do you think you’re doing so far?”

You shiver, eyes fluttering while his fingertips continue their gentle exploration of your neck, hair, and shoulders, “You haven’t thrown me out yet… do you test all of your students this way?”

Your body goes lax when you feel his arms snake around your waist, pressing the front of his body to your back, his lips brushing along the shell of your ear, “No, just you… I knew you were special the moment I laid my eyes on you.”

You shut your eyes and bite your lip, your heart thumping so loud you can feel it in your ears. With a slight moment of hesitation you slowly bring your hand up behind you, and dare to run your fingers through his thick, dark hair. You hear him sigh, and his head relaxes on your shoulder as the two of you hold one another; but it doesn’t last long as he withdraws from you, wandering back over near the fireplace to sit in his black velvet chair.

His eyes are back on you with that predatory look once more, gazing at you over the lip of his wine glass while he takes another sip, un-blinking.

You’re speechless, your skin tingling where he touched you, your core fluttering as you press your legs together, wetness flooding your panties. His eyes look you up and down, his pupils blown wide, making you blush when it looks like he’s enjoying watching you squirm.

Suddenly he puts his wine down, and sits on the edge of his seat, elbows on his knees, looking you in the eye and firmly saying, “Take off your clothes.”

Your eyes go wide and your mouth opens in shock, thinking he can’t possibly be serious, “Wh-what?”

“You heard me, Y/N. Take off your clothes.”

You fold your arms tight to your body, and bite your lip, shaking your head, “Is this… this is another test isn’t it?”

“I wonder, or do you think we’re possibly past that now?” He drawls, one of his eyebrows quirked up in a faux-puzzled expression, “Now I don’t like to be kept waiting, Y/N. I said take off your clothes.”

Heat floods you head to toe, head reeling, his authoritative words ringing in your ears. His eyes are fixed on you, stern and swimming with impatience.

Your body slightly trembles as you play with the hem of your shirt, debating on whether or not you are going to obey him. You’ve never disobeyed an order from him before, and your body aches for him, is screaming at you to strip and offer yourself. But there is still a seed of doubt in your mind, a fear that if you blindly debase yourself for him that he will be disgusted by you.

In the end, your carnal desires win when you lift your shirt over your head and drop it to your feet, your boots and pants coming off next until you are left in your bra and panties, skin tinged pink with a mixture of excitement and embarrassment as he stares at you.

“Come here,” he beckons, twitching his fingers in a come-hither motion, his yellow eyes almost black while his blown-out pupils rake over your body.

You obey, stumbling forward slightly, your knees knocking together while you look at the floor to avert his searing gaze. You stop about a foot away from him, the heat from the fireplace warming you, the light from the flames dancing along your exposed skin.

Finally you look up at him once more, the fire flickering back in his eyes, making him look even more dangerous than he normally does. He takes a deep breath, his teeth raking his bottom lip before he says, “Take off all of your clothes.”

You shiver at his tone, deep and serious, a wave of arousal rolling through your tummy. You expected that he would ask this, but in the back of your mind you didn’t think he would go this far.

Every limit you ever thought you had is surpassed the moment you unhook your bra and abandon it on the floor, your breasts perking up as they are exposed to the open air; your panties soon after being tugged down your legs and kicked away.

Mihawk is on the edge of his seat, staring you down with a possessive and heated look when he finally speaks again, “Now, get down on your knees.”

You blush furiously, but comply, sinking down to your knees on the plush carpet in front of him, covering your breasts with your arms and pressing your thighs together to maintain some level of modesty.

That makes him smirk, a light laugh exhaling from his lips, “Don’t be shy, be a good girl and spread your legs for me, then put your hands behind your back.”

You whimper, your limbs shaking a little when you sit up on your knees and spread your legs, revealing your glistening pussy while you cross your arms behind your back. There’s no going back now, no where to hide yourself as you kneel completely bare before him.

Mihawk licks his lips in response, giving you a once over, looking like a hawk about to devour his prey, but only after playing with it just a little.

“You like this, don’t you, Y/N?” He asks with a devious smile while he eye-fucks you, paying special attention to your chest and cunt, reveling in how delirious with arousal you’ve become.

You bite your lip, your body trembling as heat licks up your insides. In response to his question you nod, no use lying about it now that the want is fully on display, leaking out of you.

He grins and gets up from his chair, circling around you once more before he leans down on one knee to get eye-level with you, gently grazing his hand along your collarbone, before tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“If I feel between your legs, how wet are you going to be for me? Or should we just wait to see if you make a mess of my carpet?”

You bite back a moan, your nails digging into your forearms behind your back, your heart pounding wildly in your chest, your clit throbbing at his words. The fear of him being right shoots heat right through your veins, and at this rate you would start dripping. The thought visibly flushes your face and the tips of your ears a dark crimson color.

His hand is now on your thigh, creeping further and further towards your slick center, his lips ghosting along the underside of your jaw as he does so, making you shiver with need, “Would you like me to check?”

You let out a shaky breath when he pulls back to look into your eyes, pondering and searching for any hesitation while his fingers continue their journey, “Tell me no…” He says, just like he said in the dark hallway the night before, “Tell me no, and I’ll stop.”

His face is even closer to yours now, the ghost of a kiss just an inch from your lips. You shake your head, pressing your forehead to his, pleading, “Please… Please don’t stop.”

He caresses one of your breasts, thumb stroking over a hardened nipple, causing you to pant, your breath tickling over his face, his other hand gripping your hip, “Tell me, little rabbit… why have you continued to humiliate yourself for me this entire week? Why have you let me treat you this way in front of the others, and in private?”

“I-I…” You try to find the words, your mind numb with pleasure, your nerves alight as his touch electrifies you, and then the realization even surprises you, “I like it. I like the way it makes me feel. You’re my teacher, my master, my Sir… I like it when you control me.”

His smile is wicked, pleased with your answer, and that’s when he finally touches you, just barely, and your pussy is dripping slick. You whine as ecstasy rolls through your body, his fingertip exploring your drenched folds.

“What a naughty rabbit you are… I knew what a good, little pet you would be the first time I ever saw you,” He purrs in your ear, spreading your wetness around your stiff clit, “Perhaps I should have the other students come in, since you like this so much. Have them watch and learn what it’s like to be truly obedient.”

Your eyes widen in horror, your body uncontrollably trembling in his hands, but still you hold your position, “N-no, Sir, p-please don’t!”

It’s then that he kisses you, never once stopping his exploration; the movements on your clit increasing while he ravages your lips, his slick tongue invading your mouth to slide over your own wet muscle. You keen into his mouth, opening even wider as you drink each other in with wild abandon.

He finally breaks away, chuckling lowly, “Just teasing you, pet, I wouldn’t dream of it. From here on out you are mine. All mine. Is that understood?”

You nod, dazed as you press your face into the side of his neck, “Yes, Sir… that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Your fate is sealed with another kiss when his fingers finally enter you, curling up to fuck into that sensitive spot inside that makes you see stars. You cry out into his mouth as he alternates between scissoring his thick fingers into your cunt, and rubbing them over your clit, rocketing you hard and fast towards your orgasm.

“I’m sure those poor knees of yours are getting awfully sore, darling. I’ll reward you and make all of the aches and pains go away if you can cum just like this.” He says, lips brushing over your ear, his goatee tickling your jaw.

You moan, your head thrown back while he begins to nip and suck at your neck, leaving marks of pleasurable pain in his wake as he keeps continuous pressure on your clit, rubbing small circles into the wet bundle of nerves. Heat and pressure is slowly building in your tummy, a tight knot threatening to snap as pure rapture bleeds through your body, pumping hot in your veins.

“Mihawk, Sir… plleeeeaase.”

“Mmm, such a good girl. So soft, and pliant and wet.”

His praise fuels the fire in your belly, your thighs shaking with desperation as his fingers never cease their relentless pace; a little puddle of your arousal coats his hand and dampens the carpet below. The pressure continues to build, your skin flushed pink, your warm, drenched cunt clenching around nothing when his fingers overstimulate your clit.

“You’ve been such a good girl, my little rabbit. You deserve to feel good after all I’ve put you through. Now cum for me.”

You pant into his neck, chest heaving as you whimper, your eyes squeezed shut as the pressure inside you overflows, tension snapping. You twitch in his embrace while your orgasm overwhelms you, feeling yourself flutter and gush on his hand, your entire body pulsing in time with your rapidly beating heart.

“Messy little thing,” he teases, extending the fingers he used to pleasure you to your lips, “Looks like I was right about you making a mess. But don’t worry about that now, be a good girl and clean me up.”

You suck on his slick digits obediently, trembling from your orgasm while pressed flush against him. He pulls apart your arms that have been folded behind your back, nudging them to wrap around his neck. After cleaning your wetness from his fingers he cradles your face, pressing tender kisses to your mouth and cheeks.

“So perfect, you did so good for me, Y/N,” he coos while he gathers you up in his arms, getting you off the position on your knees to his lap, “Always so perfectly obedient, doing exactly what I say.”

His praise puts you on cloud nine, adoration and devotion radiating through you; still aglow from your orgasm as you snuggle to his chest. He picks you up and swiftly begins to make his way over to his bed, reigniting your excitement and arousal for the reward he promised you.

“And good girls who listen…” He says, before throwing you onto the bed on your back, and immediately gripping your thighs to pull them a part, “…get rewarded for their impeccable behavior.”

He towers over you on the edge of the bed, almost folding you in half, your ankles close to your ears. His hands have you spread open wide, leaking cunt on full display, thumb toying with the hood of your clit before he licks up your slit.

You gasp out a whine, your hands flying to tangle in his hair. His eyes are fixed on yours, half-lidded, pupils still blown with insatiable desire while he eats you out, alternating between lapping at your clit and tonguing your drenched opening.

Your second orgasm hits you by surprise, his expert ministrations flooding you with euphoria as you bite your lip to keep from screaming; your nails digging firm against his scalp while you rut against his face.

“Mm, exquisite,” he hums once you’ve gone slack again, twitching in the afterglow while he crawls up your body, “I think your delicious cunt was made for my tongue.”

His black facial hair glistens in the firelight on his jaw when he licks his lips, leaning over you till you are face to face once more, breath mingling, “I’m sure it was made for my cock as well.”

“Sir please!” You sob, keeping yourself wide open for him, “Please, I need it so bad! Please fuck me…”

He grins down at you, face darkened by the flickering shadows of the room, caressing your cheek, and wiping away a stray tear that falls from the corner of your eye. Then he kisses you, all tongue and teeth, wet with your spit and slick on his lips.

Once he pulls away he sits back up, thumb hooked into the waistband of his pants, the outline of his cock bulging against his leg. You whine once more, squirming with need, and when he takes off all of his clothes it makes you throb. He’s the biggest you’ve ever seen: long, thick, and heavy, red at the tip and leaking precum.

“I know, little rabbit, I know,” He says lowly, stroking himself while he positions between your legs, “I’ll give it to you. Are you going to be a good girl and take it all?”

Your eyes are wide, your body shaking. It’s been a long time since you’ve had anyone inside you, and never someone his size before, but you nod, “Yes, Sir, I-I can take it...”

“Good girl.”

And then he’s pushing into you, stuffing the tip of his dick into your dripping cunt, and even with the amount of lubrication your body has created for you, the feeling of being split open sucks the air right out of your lungs. He grabs your legs and hoists your ankles over his shoulders, driving his hips down with a quick thrust to fully sheath himself inside of you. The motion makes you cry out and claw at the bedding, your body completely encased by his as he folds you, then begins an utterly ruthless pace.

Never have you been so full before, stretched to capacity while he fucks into you, staring down at you with fierce concentration, as if he were dueling you in a swordfight. He watches you fall apart entirely, tears streaming down your face while you cry and whimper his name, and every other little sound of pleasure and pain in between.

His cock touches every inch inside of you, pounding your G-spot with a fierceness that makes you feel like you are going to black out. Every cell in your body seems to scream and sing in unison when he finally reaches down and flicks at your clit, sending you into an immersion of pain and ecstasy that you didn’t know could possibly exist as you cum hard around his cock.

The two of you pant in unison, him stilling inside of you to give you a moment to come back to reality once more. Your body is thrumming with overstimulation, blood rushing wildly through your veins as his face swims in your vision. He’s biting his lip, concentrating on not cumming inside of you as he begins to pull out of your slick heat.

“Such a good girl for me, taking my cock so well,” His praise washes over you again, easing the ache of his dick withdrawing from you, “But I’m not through with you yet, little rabbit.”

Suddenly your legs are removed from their perch on his shoulders, and you cry out when you are flipped over onto your stomach. He manhandles you onto your hands and knees, soothing his hand along your spine so you arch your back.

“I think I’ve been more than generous with my reward, don’t you?”

He grabs you by the hair, forcing your head back so he can look into your eyes, making your back arch even more. You whimper at the rough treatment, exhausted from the amount of pleasure ripped from your body, but obediently you look into his glowing eyes and nod.

“Y-yes Sir, thank you, thank you so much.”

He grins his devious smile once more, kissing you hard on the mouth before releasing your hair and withdrawing behind you, “I think that means I deserve my own reward then.”

Without warning he slaps you on the ass, making you gasp in surprise and shrink a little onto the bed.

“Tsk, tsk,” he vocalizes with a suck to his teeth, gripping your hip so you return back to your position, “None of that, you want to make your Sir feel good, don’t you?”

“Yes, I’m sorry!” You cry, burying your face into the sheets, “I’ll be good.”

He caresses your hips and massages the small of your back, before you feel him spread the cheeks of your ass and rub his cock over your puckered hole. The sensation makes you stiffen, but you resist the urge to shy away.

“Such a gorgeous ass, I’m sure it would feel like heaven to have it sucking around my cock.”

The thought simultaneously turns you on and makes you want to cry. Taking someone back there was something you had never done before, and thinking about him impaling you on his huge cock tonight after already being so tired and used, terrified you.

He continues to rub his dick through the cleft of your ass, as if waiting for you to respond. Not wanting to disappoint your Sir, you gather your courage, and turn around a bit shyly to look at him, tears glistening in your eyes.

“You can do whatever you want to me, Sir… I just want to make you feel good. You can…y-you can fuck my ass, if that’s what you want.”

Mihawk’s jaw tightens and he groans, his eyes seeming to flash before he licks his lips, “You truly are the sweetest pet a man could ask for. While that offer is tempting, rabbit, I will not do it tonight. I do not wish to hurt you, that is going to require some training, and believe me I will be training you. But for now…”

He maneuvers himself swiftly, dragging his tip through your pussy folds, coating his cock in your slick before thrusting into you once more, bottoming out. You moan into the bedsheets, spreading your legs further as he begins to fuck you from behind, his hips snapping fast and hard, loud sounds of skin slapping each other filling the room and ringing in your ears.

“From now on you’re mine,” he pants, his fingertips bruising into your hips and thighs, “If anyone else touches you again, I’ll fucking kill them.”

You whine in agreement, unable to use your words while your body is pounded into the bed, rattling the entire structure, slick dripping down your thighs as his balls slap against your clit.

“My perfect little student, so good for me,” He growls, grabbing your hair again and slapping your ass, his hips beginning to stutter, his speech becoming more frenzied, “Say you’re mine, say who punishes, fucks, and lets you cum.”

“I’m all yours! I belong to you!” You cry out, your neck straining back, eyes fluttering as he continuously fills you from head to base, “Mihawk, Mihawk!”

“Little rabbit, all mine. Mine to use, pleasure, and humiliate. Because. She. Likes. It.” He enunciates the words with four sharp, drawn out thrusts of his cock, “And if you don’t cum on my cock right now, you won’t for another week. That’s a promise.”

He reaches down and slaps your clit, once, twice, then three times, each one harder than the last while he pumps into you. Your eyes roll back into your head, your body buzzing as it takes control for you and obeys him, your pussy pulsing and gushing around his cock while you cum for the last time.

The feeling of your pussy clenching and releasing does him in; with a bite to your shoulder and a deep moan he empties himself inside of you, splashing his hot cum inside your velvety womb.

Bliss overtakes you when you collapse onto the plush bed, cheek pressed firm into the silk sheets while Mihawk pants against your neck, riding the aftermath waves of his orgasm.

After a few moments of composing himself, he comes back to reality; with gentle words and soft kisses he unsheathes himself from your body, and wraps you in his arms.

“Y/N, dear Y/N, are you alright?” He asks softly, brows furrowed with concern.

You’re an absolute wreck: cheeks flushed, skin damp with sweat, eyes shut. But your heart-rate has begun to return to normal, your breathing evening out while you press your face to his chest.

“Yes, Sir, yes… so good, so very good…” You smile, happy, giddy, and exhausted all at once. Sticky between the thighs, but relaxed and satisfied.

He kisses you on the forehead, smoothing back your wild sex hair for you, tucking the stray hairs out of your face.

“It seems like we have a lot to talk about, Y/N… I meant when I said that I intend for you to be mine.”

The confession makes your heart flutter, warmth and adoration surging through your veins as you turn over to face him, “I would very much like to talk about that, Sir…”

Another one of his devious smirks lights up his eyes, his hands groping over your thigh and ass, “Good, we’ll have all week to discuss the details, all by ourselves, my little rabbit.”

You give him a puzzled look, “What do you mean all week, Sir?”

He looks so smug, so pleased with himself while he stares you in the eyes and gazes over your face; his thumb tracing over your bottom lip, causing your mouth to slightly part.

“Did you tell anyone that I have not left the castle?”

“No, of course not,” You answer earnestly, wanting him to know you would never disobey his orders.

“By chance did you tell anyone where you were going?”

“N-no…”

The realization hits and you feel embers of arousal ignite in your core, your mind reeling with the promise of untold pleasures.

“Then for 6 more days, pet, you’re all mine. All mine, to play with, and more.”

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