#controversial perhaps. would be the word

[unionizedwizard]

zenos' #1 character trait being that he's a rapist (rapist-coded obviously but still) was honestly such an inspired choice. MANDATORY DISCLAIMER LIKING ZENOS DOESNT MAKE YOU A RAPIST IN THE MAKING okay. moral OCD gods having been appeased we can proceed to the actual poast

it's the boredom (due to extreme solipsism & refusal to see others as actual people with their own thoughts and feelings and as individuals). the extreme entitlement. the casual cruelty (unlike yotsuyu, who revels in cruelty and sadism; sadism is a way to take control of the suffering, in her case as a reaction to her own victimization), zenos doesn't mean to be cruel for cruelty's sake: he merely does the equivalent of children poking at animals with a stick to provoke a reaction of some kind (see his strategy in ala mhigo), in order to groom the "perfect adversary", angry and impredictable like a wounded animal pushed beyond its limits and having nothing to lose. (as an aside, remember emet-selch's lines: "But conquest is the easy part. The true challenge begins once the dust has settled─quenching the glowing embers of animosity and maintaining a semblance of peace. This requires the conqueror to treat the conquered with dignity, and the conquered to let bygones be bygones. A difficult feat to achieve." zenos is purposefully doing the exact opposite for selfish ends, ultimately causing the fall of the empire). but more than anything, i think the truly unnerving aspect of zenos' character is his childishness

to get through to him, alisaie had to talk to him like an adult trying to discipline a child. all in all, zenos behaves like a bully who's been rebuffed on the playground - the wol being the one child who's not afraid of him and isn't interested in him either: his sense of entitlement makes this state of affairs intolerable to him. he'll resort to every tactic in his arsenal to force the wol's attention, from breaking toys to tormenting other children to direct physical (and eventually, sexual) aggression. which gets us to "in from the cold", which i think was that upsettingly effective because of this very unnerving mix between sexual predation and childishness.

as fandaniel puts it, the whole affair was a kind of game - playing pretend, like children on the playground playing house, a sham candlelit romantic dinner in a high-end restaurant (with a "loyal butler"!), but it peters out immediately as the wol refuses to play along (zenos then expressing his lack of interest in this "masquerade"), the whole thing establishing a very distinctive sexual/romantic tone. perhaps more importantly though, fandaniel remarks ("aww, daddy is happy that his little boy has found a playmate!") on the childish aspect of the scene, which is immediately followed by the body-stealing sequence (apt representation of rape: it's about dehumanization and entitlement to the other to an extreme, as punishment for resisting the rapist's first attempts)

interestingly enough, and in case anyone had missed this symbolism, zero reveals that zenos (by way of fandaniel) subjected her to a similar treatment - something between enslavement and sexual assault, considering the nature of voidsent and that it implied a forced fusion of their souls). i understand why they couldn't push harder in this direction but i do wish we could have explored this dynamic more thoroughly with zero - the wol being in a unique position to understand her (and vice-versa)

[tamaharu]

ive inherited a copy of lolita from my parents (i.e. i stole it from the library in our basement and started treating it like its mine) with the 1989 vintage international cover and i think its actually not that bad. better than the 50th anniversary one with the lips anyway imo (which is the cover for the library ebook vers ive checked out).

like i think any cover that incorporates the "only convincing love story of our generation" quote anywhere kind of sucks on principle, and the fact that it features a photo of a girl at all really goes against nabakovs instructions, but compared to other covers that break those two rules, the haziness of the photo creates a really evocative atmosphere i feel matches the book more or less.

[coremilk]

UNWANTED STANDPOINT

Before the TMA/TME dichotomy was put in those terms, people found issue with the fact that in order to discuss transmisogyny without talking over transfems they had to reveal some combination of their ASAB, gender or trans status in some way. TMA/TME is a gesture at a solution that allows people to locate themselves in relation to structural transmisogyny while revealing only the absolute minimum information required to do so. It is also a terminology that allows for discussing transmisogyny without making any extraneous assertions or assumptions pertaining to the subjects of discussion.

The fact that this is the most minimal possible terminology for discussing transmisogyny in terms of group relationships makes it seem like our last line of defense against saying "it's not a problem to speak over transfems" and that seems to be precisely what some people are aiming for: The accusation that we just want to dismiss the views of everyone who isn't transfem is made openly with the implication being that wanting to prioritize the perspectives of transfems in discussions about the oppression of transfems is indicative of something akin to transfem-supremacy.

I don't see what we can take away or add or change to address the criticisms made of TMA/TME to the satisfaction of the critics. Informally we could just say transfem and non-transfem but by doing that we have to include all TMA people under the label "transfem". We are already constantly forced to do this for the sake of communication, but it is flattening the possibility space allotted to our identities considerably and it is misleading.

Would any of the criticisms actually be assuaged by us changing the terms to more closely reflect the literal meaning we intend? If we chose terms that precisely conveyed a meaning like "primary target of structural transmisogyny" and "not a primary target of structural transmisogyny" would anyone at all actually be satisfied? Or would the goalposts be moved once again?

I see questions like "Should we perhaps make a binary like this for other forms of oppression too? Should we say ableism-affected and ableism-exempt?" put forward as an argument against these terms and I just don't think this would be a big deal. The reason we don't usually need to do that is that it's generally understood how purposefully obfuscating your your own relationship to a form of oppression in controversial discussions of it is suspect. Have we abandoned standpoint epistemology altogether at this point, or is ours a special case?

We are told that we are creating a new binary by using TMA/TME terminology but that is presupposing that that this binary didn't already exist before we put it into language. The criticism simply assumes its desired conclusion. It makes the brute assertion that TMA people aren't affected by transmisogyny qualitatively differently from TME people to being with (and we're not allowed to litigate this assertion). It denies outright that transmisogyny is what we mean by it and tells us that we shouldn't mean by transmisogyny what we do mean by it. We are told that we are reinforcing or even creating the arbitrary, inconsistent, socially constructed systems on the basis of which we are oppressed by acknowledging the arbitrary, inconsistent, socially constructed systems on the basis of which we are oppressed in our analysis.

"You just want to know what's in people's pants" I do not, and you know it. "You just want to know people's ASAB" I do not, and you know it. Keep your words out of my mouth. What I want is for people to not try to pull the wool over our eyes and stealthily define transmisogyny out of existence by, without acknowledging it, introducing the non-existence of transmisogyny as a settled matter in the premises on the basis of which they criticize our terminology.

If transfems attempting to insist on their ability to not be talked over about their own oppression seems to you like they are engaging in the epistemic marginalization of everyone else then you are a transmiosgynist and deserve to be identified as such. It is because of our epistemic marginalization even in LGBT and trans spaces that we need terms like these. Stripping us of the tools to even attempt to counterbalance our epistemic marginalization by acknowledging it will simply allow for our epistemic marginalization to go unacknowledged once again, to let others speak for us and over us, to re-enshrine the absolute moral right to never have to listen to us.

[cherry-leclerc]

lolita ☆ cs55

genre: age gap (10 years), porn with plot, affairs, forbidden romance, angst, mentions of suicide, mentions of drugs, tragedy, erotic literature

word count: 14.9k

You were young, alluring, floating through a disastrous life with the touch of a thousand angels. Carlos was successful, irresistible and someone who often kept a distance from catastrophe. Never in a million years did he think he would have a complete moment of weakness. Especially the week of his wedding. 

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+... sexual tension, penetrative sex, dry humping, riding, size kink, oral sex (f and m receiving), semi - public sex, deepthroating, praise, fingering, handjobs, lots of dirty foreplay, slapping (like once AH), a bit of edging, overstimulation, a bit of crying, sucking on fingers, squirting - i should stop now, oh god.  

inspired by this and this !

STOP AND READ:

This by no means - in any shape or form - is something that should be admired or looked up to. It does deal with serious topics such as: grooming, suicide, and drugs. While the reader is of age (19), this is not my way of impulsing my own readers - especially younger ones, if by any chance they come across this - to follow this mindset. Dark themes will take place and if that is not something you are comfortable with, then that is okay, I definitely have more light hearted fics in my masterlist. “Love stories” aren’t always filled with flowers and rainbows, they can also be hurtful and confusing, often misunderstood. This is fictional. Given, this is inspired by Lolita and Blue Velvet by Lana Del Rey (*everyone cheers*) – what that means is that this story will not have a happy ending. Verses of Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov are also mentioned (extremely controversial book - as it should be).

cherry here!…hi, guys! i hope you all enjoy and i’m gonna do it now: I’M SORRY. 

She was as dangerous as poison could ever be - with no good intentions. She was malicious, sweet laughter that would make anyone fall in love. An Angel walking on Earth, curiously making it her playground. 

He was intelligent. A man of few words, but also simply so, the seven deadly sins all wrapped up in one. Keeping a distance from things he knew would bring him no good.

But in order to understand, we would have to take you back to where it all began. 

Where Paradise met Hell.

-

Growing up in Italy for some odd reason made you out to be the girl you were. Men there would throw themselves at any opportunity if they saw a single daisy looking girl in eyesight. At first it felt as if you were walking a tightrope; you knew it wouldn’t be the wisest idea to fall straight into their traps. Except, slowly, it made sense.

They knew how to sweet talk someone so young and naive - you’ll give them that. It only took one taste and that was the moment you knew. 

You liked them older.

Men fucked in a way boys never would. Every single one would always put your needs first - but there was this one man that had you realizing how fucked up you could be in order to get what you want. That’s one prize you’d cheat to win.

And that’s a story for later.

-

Moving away for college was the best decision you felt you would ever make in your entire life. Given, Italy was home, but the people in it weren’t. Often, you find yourself missing your rendezvous but studying abroad in Spain wasn’t much different.

Note; you didn’t grow up with a tight knit family. Your mother was a drug addict with half of her days knocked out on the couch, your father was someone who was occasionally in the picture. He tried his best.

And your older sister, Ollie? 

Well, you’d honestly forgotten you even had one. 

Some may say that you’re a whore, a slut, a homewrecker, or any other Spanish slur that spits Madrid, but you never cared. You were having fun and why were you the one always being blamed? Perhaps, men, too, should think with their heads rather than their dicks.

Which is how you find yourself still repeating the familiar pattern you had started a long time ago. Riding your professor shouldn’t feel this good. Mierda, he would groan as you bounce up and down like a bunny. Mewling, you shake the feeling of remorse. Not when he felt this good. 

Your phone ringing is what makes you stop, him still inside of you, twitching. Ciao? His calloused fingers would slide up to pinch your nipples as you lightly gasped. 

“Tesoro! Haven’t heard your voice in so long.”

Your father’s tone makes you wince at the reminder. Occasionally, he would check up on you in a way you would assume other fathers did for their daughters. You could never hate him, though. In his own way, deep down, he still cared.

“Papi, how are you?”

Sliding off of his lap, you zip your dress back on as you pace the lecture room. Bored, he takes out his secret whiskey from under his desk. Your sister is getting married in a few weeks! I was thinking you could fly back home so you could join us. The thought alone made your stomach churn as you bit down onto your thumb. Signaling at the older man, you click your fingers, hinting for a glass of your own. He obliges, handing it to you.

“I’m busy with summer courses. Maybe I can send a gift?”

You try everything in the book in order to get out of what seems like a crappy, dull, Italian wedding. It had been ages since you last stepped foot there. In no right mind would Ollie’s wedding be the one to change that. But he says things that get to you. I haven’t seen you in years. Neither has your sister. She misses you, you know?

You bite down on a snarky remark as you down the rest of the gold liquid. Last time you spoke, she promised that you were dead to her. That she never wanted to hear from you again. In the moment, it hurt, but you grew used to the idea. And what younger sister doesn’t pick up on what older sister says? Now, you despised her as much as she did you.

“Ovviamente. I’ll be there.”

-

It’s hot as soon as you land. That you didn’t miss. Ale, your fathers chauffeur, picks you up with a bright smile. Saddened, it dawns on you that you hadn’t seen one of those in ages. He’s nice. Let's you sit in the passenger's seat as he introduces himself. He mentions he has 5 granddaughters and has been married for almost 50 years. It’s sweet. Makes you feel human.

Pulling into the driveway, you almost want to correct him. This isn’t my fathers house. You must be mistaken. Only, he says he isn’t. That he had recently moved into his Italian mansion a year ago. You’re skeptical for a minute, but realize you can’t be one to tell. Years have passed; things change.

Still, that didn’t stop you from gawking at the ginormous house that sits on a hill; overlooking all of Tuscany. It even had a beautiful view of the ocean. Why couldn’t you grow up with this?

“I’ll inform your father that you have arrived safely.”

Taking it all in, you slowly pace the entrance, analyzing everything in sight. The crystals hanging from the chandelier, large - expensive - portraits, shiny mirrors. Quirking your head to the side, you glide over to the golden trophy sitting in the middle of the spacious entry.

Carlos Sainz Sr. : Rally Driver of-

“That belonged to my father. He passed away a year ago.”

Startled, you grip onto the trophy tighter as you slightly jump in panic. You curse yourself for being caught as you delicately place it back down before turning your attention to the booming voice.

Instantly, you’re hit with lust. Standing in front of you is a tall man - around his 20’s, perhaps - dark brown eyes narrowed down on you like knives. Messy, untamed, brown hair. Large nose, plump lips, dark brows. His figure is something you can’t wrap your head around that even exists. Richard Mille's watch clung onto his wrist. Giorgio Armani pressed up against his chest, it almost looked as if it didn’t fit due to his rippling muscles. Woody, rich, scent filling up the room. 

He was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. 

“I am so, so, sorry.”

Your voice is so soft, it has him intrigued. You wore a short pastel yellow dress that didn’t leave much to his imagination; paired with converse and tube socks. Rosy tint on your cheekbones from the humidity. Berry lips. Wide, innocent eyes. He’d be lying if he said you didn’t take his own breath away. Even though you stood far enough away, he could still smell your vanilla perfume. 

Inching closer, he waves you off. “I was kidding. My father is well and alive.” You tippy toe nervously before planting your feet back down. 

“That’s not a nice thing to say.”

And he’s surprised with your response. Yet, he finds himself extending his tan hand out to you. “I’m Carlos.”

Carlos. His name sounds as attractive as his appearance. Strong and sure. But also…dark. You shake his hand, legs quivering at his warm touch. Deep down, he knew how much he affected you - it’s something he’s grown quite accustomed to, having people admire his looks, but it took a lot to not show that you had the same effect on him.

“Nice to meet you, Carlos. Do you work for my father?”

Amused, he lets out a deep chuckle. Even a simple sound like that had you pressing your legs together, arousal dripping in between. 

“You don’t know who I am?” You shake your head, confused. Should you? He smiles. “That’s okay. We haven’t met before…Though you should get to know me since you’re already here…”

Wait.

“You know,” he leans his head a bit, floppy hair following, “Ollie.”

No, no, no.

“It’s so nice to finally meet my fiancée’s sister.”

Foolishly, you try your best to hide your surprise. How does a man like him end up with a bratty, narcissist, like your sister?

What was so fucking special about her?

Envy fills your veins as you try to show that this hasn’t phased you. Excited cheers echo down the hallway as your father runs over, embracing you into a warm hug. You’re here! Wincing, you lean into his touch, eyes still trained on the magnetic man. 

Only then, did Ollie fly down the stairs, immediately running into Carlos’ arms. Making a big deal out of it, she kisses him as she runs her hands against his chest. 

“Come here, tesoro. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

The entire time; Carlos kept his eyes trained on you. 

-

It didn’t make sense. Part of you knows it never will. You’ve only just met him, but you can tell he must’ve been fucked in the head to willingly choose someone like Ollie. Sure, she seemed sweet and kind, but she was anything but that. 

Dinner that night is carbonara. Carlos is extremely talented. He cooked this just for you. Tight lipped, you thank him, looking down at your plate to avoid his burning gaze. 

“How’s school?”

Turning to your father, you remind yourself that you were here for him; because he wanted you there. That’s all that should matter. “Very good. Thank you for asking, papi.”

The sound of glass hitting the table erupts as Carlos hurriedly goes to pick it up, quickly murmuring a strong apology. His dark gaze shortly flickers past you. It leaves you squirming. 

Clearing his throat, he takes a sip of his wine. “Where do you study?” Spain, you tell him as he beams. “No way. I was born and raised in Madrid. Moved to Italy a few years ago for work.” Letting out a laugh, you find the coincidence funny. He moved from Spain to Italy and you moved from Italy to Spain. 

“What do you do for work?”

“He’s a Formula 1 driver. Drives for Scuderia Ferrari,” Ollie weasels in as she smirks down on you. Anger bubbles inside of her when your attention remains on the Spaniard. Drumming your fingers against the table, you lick your lips. Formula 1? He’s about to explain it all up until Ollie butts in once again. She rubs his hand, a glistening ring shining right in front of you. You physically have to force yourself to look away. “Oh, amor, she doesn’t know what that is. She’s too…young.” 

You know she’s trying to make a weak point: you’re only a baby, therefore, you don’t compare to her. And yes, you are young, 19, but it was stupid of her to think that it bothered you. You tsk before leaning back against your chair. 

“Of course, my mistake. I forgot I was still a pure flower instead of a wilting one.”

Ollie’s face switches to bright red as she grips onto his hand. An entertained smile slips onto his lips before flattening back out. He rubs her hand, trying to calm her down. You can’t stop the jealousy burning from within.

“I didn’t mean you, Mr. Sainz.”

The 29 year old brushed you as if nothing, a smile displayed. Eyeing you both, Ollie suddenly stands up, chair screeching. Why don’t you help me bring out the cookies I baked? Ever so gracefully, you nod. Following after her, you stop suddenly as she spins, hair slapping her face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here? Are you here to ruin my life with your existence?”

“I might.”

Her left eye twitches as she growls angrily. If she didn’t make it this easy to tick her off, then you’d be bored, but luckily for you, it was unchallenging to get under her skin. “This is my wedding; my future husband - so don’t fuck that up like everything else you’ve ever done.”

You try to pretend as if her words didn’t affect you as you stare back blankly. Marching over to the counter, she opens up a box of cookies before sliding them onto a polished dish, leaving you standing there alone.

-

You thank the higher Gods for not letting you cross roads with Ollie for the next few days. Though, you’re a bit bummed out that you haven’t seen Carlos much either. Peeking out the window, you could see the way a group of workers hurried to set up for the joint bachelorette taking place later that night, right on the beach. The waves look magnificent, so without a second thought, you slip on a bikini before rushing out the door with your necessities. 

Lathering a goop of coconut sunscreen, you hum softly to yourself. Weren’t you going out with your sister? Looking up, you see Carlos standing in front of you with his face slightly scrunched up from the bright sun. His cheeks looked as if they’d just been pinched. “Where to?”

He takes a seat next to you. “She said she was going out to go buy a few flowers for later. Said she would invite you.” You shake your head, already bored with the idea.

“You know her,” you tap your head, “Forgetful.”

He cocks his head to the side as he shuts his right eye for a moment. “You two don’t get along, do you?” You try making up a silly excuse. Of course we do. We’re sisters. But he’s looking right into your orbs as if he sees right past your weak attempts. “You’re right. I could be wrong.”

It stays quiet for a while - only the soft breeze being heard. You can see him from your peripheral vision; eyes shut as he takes in the moment of peace he hasn’t had since dawn. Long lashes fan his face, freckles scattered all over. 

“Aren’t you too busy to be talking to me?”

“No. Plus, I should take time to get to know my future sister-in-law. Especially since I don't know anything about her even after dating her sister for 7 years.”

7 years.

Squinting at the waves, you slide your sunglasses on. “There’s not much to know, but I can try. I’m 19 years old, studying abroad in Spain, and grew up in Italy. I love the ocean, love a nice cup of hot chocolate - even though I’m allergic - so I only allow myself small sips during the winter. I like to pretend I know how to dance and I kill it in karaoke.” He laughs. You can’t dance? “Unfortunately, I can’t. Once, during my friend's wedding reception, I twirled right into her cake. I spent the entire day on supervision.”

“Dios mío…Remind me to watch out for you on our wedding day.”

Our wedding day. His words slightly sting as you pinch your nose swiftly. Standing up, you brush beads of sand off your legs. Your eyes roam the area before you find your father waving you over. “I should go,” you say as you look down at him. His brown eyes scan you before nodding and standing up. He, too, looks over to where your father waits to introduce you to a group of businessmen. He frowns and that's when you realize just how revealing your bikini might have been, only it's too late now.

“Papi always taught us to greet our elders.”

He clenches his jaw, eyes closing for a second. When his gaze meets yours, you almost choke with how dark and twisted it’s become. “Aren’t you too old to be calling him that?” Confused, you tilt your head.

“Calling him wh- Papi?”

He grinds his teeth together - and then just like that - he’s smiling again. 

“Forget it. How would I know?”

-

Standing next to an empty table, you watch as Carlos and your sister dance along with everyone else. This party has allowed you to pick up on the fact that they seemed to be a much more important couple than you had anticipated. Everyone looked at the Spaniard as if he were a God himself - and being quite truthful - you would agree. There was nothing about him that wasn’t flawless. 

Then, Ollie, just looked like any other person. Her eyes were bright, but any time anyone would walk up to him, her stare would become threatening. As if she was his owner and no one else could get close enough to breathe the same air.

Everyone here was older; that much you could tell. Attendees were accompanied by girlfriends or fiancée’s of their own. It made you feel a bit childish, since you clearly were the youngest one there. Reaching out for your margarita, you twirl the straw.

“Not having fun?”

Your attention directs itself to a dirty, blondish, brunette. He looks a bit tipsy, face flushed as he smiles sweetly. He’s tall, handsome. But not as much as Carlos.

“Max,” he introduces himself. Politely, you shake his hand. He points to the large group that dances on the sand. He lets out a croaky laugh. “They could get a bit much sometimes.” You laugh, nodding along with him. He continues talking to you. Brings up how he knows Carlos from driving with him; except he’s signed to Red Bull.

“Everyone here is invited only if they're a driver, huh?” It’s a lame joke, but he laughs and throws his head back as if it were the most fascinating thing he’s heard all night. 

“It’s a small circle, but I promise, they're all nice lads.” Discreetly, he takes in your appearance. The way your black dress dances with the wind. Painted red nails glistening under the golden lights. 

You were beautiful. Tragically, beautiful.

“You know the groom or the bride?”

“Bride.”

He nods, taking a sip of the beer bottle he had been nursing. You both continue your conversation for a while longer. He’s Dutch. Recently 26. You mention your headache before he brushes his fingers against your hand. Looking down, he pulls away before clearing his throat. He apologizes and asks if you would like to dance. A soft melody now plays and you find yourself taking his hand. It's big as yours disappears into it.

Almost as if he’s shy, he carefully slides his hands down to your waist. You giggle as you throw yours over his shoulders. “I hope slowing down helps get rid of your migraine. Sucks. I get lots of those during race weekends.” 

“It is. Thank you for caring.”

He’s sweet. You can tell with the way he blushes when you mention the way you like his dimples. Slowly, you find yourself enjoying his company. You’re in the middle of laughing at some stupid joke he just told, when someone rudely clears their throat. Carlos’ smile appears bitter as he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry - I’ve probably killed the mood.”

“No problem, mate. We were just talking.”

He clicks his tongue before turning to you. Under his scrutiny, you feel as if you’ve just been caught smoking weed for the first time. Dazed, you hum, waiting for him to say something. You know it’s not your place to feel as if he owes you an apology, but you can’t help it. 

“Ollie said it’s best if you went to bed.” You let out a sarcastic laugh. Since when does she care if I get a good night's rest? He huffs before running a hand through his hair. “She - she…Just do as you’re told, please.”

Now you’re bothered. Up until that point, you were actually having a good time. Dumbfounded, you turn to Max as he smiles understandingly. Pursing your lips, you apologize. Tippy toeing, you lean up to press a kiss against his stubble. He smiles.

“See you around?”

“See you around, Maxie.”

Walking into the lonely house, you let out a sigh as you pour yourself a cup of water. The summer heat had completely dehydrated you. You could still hear the soft beat playing from outside as you sway in the kitchen. You were upset - angry - that your sister had cut your night short. And any other time you would have put up a good fight, but thought it’d be best to not make a fool out of yourself. Especially in front of people you barely knew.

The door sliding open has you alert as you look up. Carlos silently makes his way in as he groans with exhaustion. Loopy eyes match yours as he clears his throat awkwardly. “So…What were you talking about with Max?”

“Nothing that should concern you.”

His jaw clenches, a large hand running along it. Stepping closer, he takes your cup of water before chugging it down. It leaves you hot and bothered just how close he is. It’s a mixture of salt and musk, his scent. It makes your head spin. Lazily, he takes a step back before nodding.

“Right. Have a good night.”

-

Carlos knew he had messed up. He had no right lying and saying Ollie had ordered for you to go to bed. That was completely him. It’s just that - seeing you with Max, laughing, smiling, made him seethe - when he knows damn well that he shouldn’t. It wasn’t like he was your boyfriend, after all. 

So, he was embarrassed. He kept his distance. In his head it made sense. If you weren’t near then he wouldn’t feel the need to keep his eyes on you all the time. The house felt lonelier, colder without you sliding down the hallways. Rightfully so, you had spent your days locked up in your room. The only person that made happy was Ollie.

Either way, maybe it was for the best. He had a ton of shit to do. Starting with changing their honeymoon destination for what seemed like the millionth time that month. First, it was the Maldives, then Cancún - God - he knew that in a few hours his fiancée would come up with a new place. 

“I know, I know we said that, but it’s changed.” He paces the office, stressed. “Can you please just make it fucking happen?”

“Ouch.”

Turning his attention, he sees you peeking at the entrance, phone still pressed up against his ear. Pouting, you enter, sweet aroma filling the room. Excusing himself, he ends the call. “Need anything?” He honestly cared for your response. It had been days without seeing you and he was afraid he blew it before he even had a chance to marry your sister. He told himself it was only because he cared for your relationship with Ollie. But fuck that - he knew not even you both cared that much about each other.

Shaking your head, you walk closer. “You sounded mean. Not a nice look on you, Mr. Sainz.” You’re teasing. You had to be. 

“That wasn’t mean. It's called being straight forward.”

Ignoring him, you curiously eye the dark office. Books, trophies, helmets. Letting out a snort, you pick up the nearest picture frame. In it, it’s Carlos and Ollie, smiling wide. Tears brim her eyes as he looks down at her. The sight makes you want to puke. 

“When was this taken?”

“The day of our engagement.”

You hum, already setting it back down. You can’t help but picture the impossible. That in the picture it was you instead of her, that you wore that diamond ring, that he looked at you. 

Fuck her, honestly. 

“Why’d you propose?”

He’s thrown off by your question. He’s expecting you to bring up the fact that it was a joke, but when you looked back for a response, he found himself with a dry mouth. Because I love her?

“Jesus,” you shudder, taking a seat on top of his desk. His eyes wander down your tan legs as you rest them on top of his chair. You're playing mind games - he’s well aware -  and still he found himself following them. You were the worst temptation out there. It’s as if you knew the power you held. “I bet fucking her is a chore.”

Shocked at your words, he finds himself dumbstruck. He knew you two didn’t get along, but what the fuck happened for you to aim such insults? 

He knows Ollie. Sure, she was a bit much at times, but she was nice. She was pretty. There was no need for your vile words. 

You can tell he’s about to get defensive about her and that makes you shrink. Willing, you had handed him a reason to choose her over you. 

Looking back at the picture, you purse your lips. “Sorry. That wasn't the right thing to say.”

“You should leave.”

You’re embarrassed over him kicking you out, but you knew you had crossed the line. So much for a peaceful afternoon. You comply, jumping off the desk. Not before making your way over, pressing your soft lips against his neck, which was the only place you could reach, even after tippy toeing. You felt him get stiff. 

“Excuse my manners, Carlos.”

Skipping out the door, he’s left with a single thought. 

He’s fucked. 

-

The next morning, you’re forced to spend the day with your sister. Whether it was for running errands, fighting; it didn’t matter. As long as you made your father happy. All he wanted was for his girls to get along. 

“Go,” Ollie growls as she hands you your bridesmaid dress. Snatching it from her, you slowly climb up the stairs to your room. 

It’s a beautiful dress. Strong, dark, cherry red. Just like blood. It hugs your curves the way you’ve always thought all dresses should. For that reason, too, it made you look…older. Trying your best to get rid of the wrinkles, you smooth it down before making your way back. 

Papi loves it as he starts throwing out compliments. You look beautiful, tesoro! You are a true gem. His eyes are bright and proud as you stand there with a shy smile. And though you thanked him, nothing else mattered but the man right in front of you. 

The Spaniard had just gotten back from a meeting. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to eat and sleep the rest of the day, but as soon as he saw a balsé Ollie and an eager father-in-law, he was interested. She had told him to go relax; practically pushing him away. But as soon as you walked down those stairs, he swore his heart had never melted with such a sight. 

His eyes became fixated to the point of no return. You stand there like a divine temptress. A siren who was mixed with innocence. Enough to drool over, but also, to adore from afar. Someone he could worship. If God decided this were his last day on Earth, then he would happily follow, since he finally felt as if his life were complete. 

His big brown eyes are glued onto you as your father spins you. Ollie’s attention flickers between her younger sister and her fiancé. Tears fill up her eyes as she springs off the couch. You’re not bothered by it; don’t even bat an eye. That is until Carlos quickly runs off after her. That was a slap to the face as you show off a wounded smile to your father who stands there lost at the sudden commotion. 

Later on that day, you find yourself trying to forget it all with watered down tequila. That’s really all you could find in such short notice. Leaning against the balcony, you study the soft waves, cold wind causing your skin to flash small goosebumps. 

“Disgusting,” you mumble as you finish the rest of the alcoholic drink. Who knew a simple encounter would set you off?

“Woah there. Are you okay?”

Max cautiously steps closer as you shrug with a sigh. What was there to say? I’m a horrible person. I’m a horrible sister. And yes, we might not get along, but never in a million years did I think I would be falling in love with my future brother-in-law. 

“What are you doing up so late?”

Sheepishly, he raises his cigarette. Letting out a low hum, you raise a brow. “Can I have one?” He knows he shouldn't be the one to give a teenager a form of drug, but you looked so upset, so drained, that he felt as if you needed it. Lighting it up, you bring it up to your lips as you squint at him. He laughs. 

“First time?”

“No. It’s just been a while.”

You’re still not looking at him, but he notices the way you let out shaky breaths. The way you softly pinch your forearm. He frowns. 

“I know we only just met, but do you want to talk about it?”

And maybe it was the gist of the moment. Or that he was being sweet - showing that he cared, but it worked because next thing you knew, you were kissing. He lets out an erotic moan with the taste of your lips. All a mix of cigarettes and tequila. This is wrong. He was friends with Carlos and you were only doing this in a moment of weakness, but you just couldn’t stop. Neither could he. Not when you tasted like a thousand crimes. 

His large hands grab your ass as you gasp, brushing against his cock. He hissed as he pressed his lips much harder. Surely, you will have bruises tomorrow. Adrenaline rushes through your veins as you grind against him. Clumsily, you both make your way to the couch that’s nearby. Straddling him, you continue to dry humping. Slowly, but surely, the warm sensation between your legs starts to form. Panting, you pull away as he tries to angle his face closer to yours. You smile tauntingly. 

“You know what you remind me of?”

You hum, leisurely picking up your filthy actions. He bites back a smile as he grips harder onto your hips. 

“A Lolita.”

A menacing smile looks down at him before you kiss down his thick neck, soft bites being left behind. You can’t recall the moment you start bouncing on his cock, or when he sprawls you open like a map, kneeling down in front of you. It’s all a haze; a delicious one, too. You’re falling like a feather from your climax when you hear a thud. Did you hear that? No, he would mumble as he peppers kisses onto your soft skin. 

The tides are crashing harder now, signaling that the night was growing older. Timidly, you share a goodbye as you start to skip your way back into your room, but one last thing caught your attention.

A broken flower pot on its side and dirt trailing into the Italian home. 

-

More days had passed since your last encounter with the devilish Spaniard. If you were ever in the same room, he wouldn’t even glance at you. He would simply just walk past by. He was mad. Upset about something. You tried to think of what it might’ve been, but when he walked into his office with an infuriated expression, you decided it was time to call a truce. 

Knocking, you flinch at his sharp tone when he commands you away. Ignoring it, you still step in. Head thrown against his chair, man spreading, he has his eyes screwed shut.

“Are you okay?”

Your tone is sticky like honey. It annoys him the way it strings him in. Drumming his finger against the large chair, he angles his head to look at you. You’re almost scared to ask again, so you decide to stand still until he speaks up. 

“Why’d you do it?”

Puzzled, you purse your lips, waiting for further explanation. What was he talking about? Did you do something to make him upset? The thought alone made you feel queasy. When he notices you still don’t understand, he clicks his tongue. 

“Why would you fuck a friend of mine?”

Oh. Was it possible that this was something he was jealous of? Bewildered, you know you can’t deny it so you start to word-vomit. I am so sorry, Carlos. He came onto me that night - he kissed me first. I was confused. I was lured in by his words. I didn’t know what I was doing-

His eyes soften up as you try your best to break it down. But you were a liar; a good one. You knew damn well it was all you. You had kissed him first. You threw him under the bus and you knew that. Did he deserve it? No. Of course not. But you couldn't handle the Spaniard being mad at you.

He signals for you to get closer. Securely, he grasps your hand and hauls you onto his lap. It’s embarrassing how wet you’ve suddenly become; how your mind replicates a plate of jello. 

“I’m sorry he made you feel like that.”

His rough fingers slide up and down your arms and even that leaves you buzzing. Suddenly, you feel feeble. You assure him that you were fine - that it was no big deal. The way he looks at you is what gives you the confidence to lean in closer. A trace of panic slashes his face for a second. He should probably stop this before anything else happens. There was nothing okay about your ass pressed up against him. Or him craving to taste your plump lips. 

“He didn’t make me feel anything I haven't before.”

Your implication irks him far too much, he starts to consider this all an unhealthy encounter. He can’t stop the images of you being with other men. Someone else kissing you, pleasuring you. Whilst your words were suggestive, your features were anything but that. Wide eyes stare back at him, slightly crinkled. Moving your body, you scoot closer as if you weren't already. He growls as he pinches your hip. Then, you're kissing his neck, and he should be pushing you off, but he’s too far gone to pick up on how wrong this all was. I’m sorry I’ve upset you, Mr. Sainz. I didn’t think you would care who fucked me or not.

“I-I don’t. It’s just that you shouldn't be doing stuff like that. You’re too young for all that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” You narrow your eyes. “I’m wiser than one might think. I’m mature enough to know who can and can’t fuck me the way I like.” Your gaze focuses extra hard with your confession. As if it were meant for him.

Pressing your ass one last time against his tight pants, you leap off, giggling. 

“Take care, Carlos.”

-

It's a business dinner, your father fills you in as you sit nearby, enjoying a bowl of ice cream, hairollers dangling around your head. Pouting, you reach up to clip one back into place. He smiles.

“You know, lots of young, talented guys are going to be here. It could be a great opportunity to meet someone.”

You make a face at his idea. “Yeah. No, thank you.” Marching over to him, you gently pat his cheek. “I’m not here to meet anyone.”

Signhing, he grabs your hands. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.”

“Are you and Carlos…” Choking on your own saliva, you push away. What? No. Of course not! Why would you even think that? He lets out a breath of relief. “It’s nothing. Ollie just brought it up, but I told her you would never actually do something like that. I know my precious girl.”

The door creaks open as Satan herself walks in, followed by an Angel. First thing you noticed are their intertwined hands. Ollie tries to be coy as she flashes the action right in front of you. She mainly greets your father as she sticks by Carlos like a piece of gum. Hello, he would say to you as you bite back a smile.

“What are we talking about?”

“Your sister might have a boyfriend by the end of the night, that's what,” your father jokes as you slap his shoulder. Boyfriend? The Spaniard’s eyes burn you, subtle threat evident. Ollie fakes a smile as she tugs him back a bit.

“Wow. You know what? That might actually be a good idea. Could help with how uptight you are. But I’m confused, boyfriend as in Max?”

Fury fills you as you shoot daggers right at her. Ollie’s eyes twinkle with satisfaction. You’re dating Max? “Of course not, papi! Ollie is just being a bitch.”

“No, no, no - I don’t think telling the truth is being a bitch. You should be happy, baby sister! You sure sounded like it when you let him fuck you out in the balcony.”

Shocked at her words, you can’t bring yourself to look at your father who stands disappointed. Ollie, that's enough, Carlos warns as he squeezes her hand. She yanks it away, jewelry clinging against each other. 

“My bad. Shit, I forgot. I forgot no one knew what a slut you are. Opening your legs for any man around you. We’re lucky you’re not attracted to your own father.” She lets out a sour laugh. “Now, that would be fucked up.”

“That’s low, Ollie,” you spit, skin feeling as if it's on fire. You know where all this pent up anger is coming from, but she had no right to make up shit for fun. What kind of sister does that? Embarrassed, your eyes flicker to where Carlos stands with a hopeless expression. Licking your lips, you force yourself to walk away.

Slamming the door shut, you let out a loud scream. Why? Why was she always like this to you? A hard knock is what makes you wipe your tears away. Ollie slithers her way in. It hurt you how proud she looked. As if she had achieved something spectacular. 

“The fuck - Are you crying?”

“What do you want?”

She takes a seat on your desk as she dusts off imaginary lint. “I just want to talk. The way sisters do.”

Ricocheting off the bed, you march over to her as you glare. “Sisters? No. You’re nothing of mine.” Ollie yawns as she rubs her eyes. Then, she clears her throat.

“Do you want to know why I hate you? You’re so stupid you probably don’t even know, but don’t worry - that’s what older sisters are for. I’ll explain it to you. Do you remember, Romeo?”

You do. It hits you all at once; the memories of the first man you ever slept with. He was nice - kind enough to teach you what a man likes. He had jet black hair, a smirk always lingering on his lips. He was tall and a local from where you grew up. He was the perfect experience. 

But that still didn’t make any sense. What did he have to do with Ollie?

She lets out a wet laugh. Already, you can see her own tears as she tries to quickly wipe them away. 

“I loved you; I did. You were my sister before my enemy. But I also loved him. He was my first love. Promised me a home high up in the hills. But do you know what it feels like to see someone you love fuck your little sister against a wall?”

We probably shouldn’t-

Don’t worry. I’ve got you. No ones going to see us. Men love a good thrill.

“You and him…”

She licks her chapped lips. “We had barely started dating.” 

“I didn’t know - I swear to God, I didn’t know!”

If you had, you never would’ve looked his way. Ollie was everything to you growing up. You admired her. Loved her. That’s why it broke you when she started pushing you away as if you were some disease. Later, when your parents got a divorce, she didn’t second guess it when she made the decision to stay behind; causing you to leave with your mother. She never cared for you after that and you never knew why.

But now you did.

“I was young…Younger than I am now, how was I supposed to know?”

“Well, I’m glad we agree on something. You truly don’t know anything.” Strolling over to you, she smiles at your desperate state. “Which is why I’m not making the same mistake twice. Stay away from my husband.”

-

Ollie’s words felt as if they had opened up past scars. You meant what you said. Romeo would have been someone you would have disregarded if you had known the truth. But like always, you were the one with the entire blame and that you didn’t like.

Despite wearing a pretty dress - one that everyone gawked at you for - you felt ugly. Has it always been this way? Maybe it did make sense as to why she despised you. Playing with your bracelets, you try to pretend you’re interested in meeting your fathers investors. You feel completely exposed when they all stare straight at your chest area.

“How are we all doing?”

They all look up at the Spanirad as they start spitting out their congratulations for his upcoming wedding. He thanks them before checking up on you. His eyes connect with yours. Butterflies swirl inside your stomach as you smile weakly. He’s the first one to truly talk to you that night. To show he cares about your wellbeing rather than the way your dress fits you. Though, you looked stunning as always. Excusing yourself, you make your way into the kitchen, looking for something stronger.

Serving yourself a shot of vodka, you throw your head back, burning sensation sliding down your throat. Coughing, you grip onto the counter. Soft moans whisper in between the walls. You stop breathing for a minute as you try your best to identify where it might be coming from. Striding closer, you press your ear against the closet door. Fuck, a mans voice groans. This is not something you should intervene with, it's not your right, but that all changes when you hear a name that makes you burn all over again. So fucking tight, Ollie.

Pushing the door open, you see your sister banging one of your fathers investors. Ben, you think his name is. Honestly, you could care less. Briskly, she pushes her gown back down as he zips his pants. You let out a cold laugh as you clap in amusement.

“Oh, God. This is great. Amazing. You really outdid yourself, Ol.”

Stepping forwards, she grabs your arm harshly as she tugs you out. “How much did you see?”

You purse your lips as you theatrically scrunch your face up in pleasure. “Oh, Ben! Fuck me! Oh, oh, yes, baby, right there!” You bow. “That much.”

“How old are you, sweetheart?” The brunette says as he scans your body. Ollie glares at him as he steps back.

“Not a word of this to Carlos.”

“Why would I keep this a secret? He deserves to know. What do you think, Benny?”

Panicked, the older man shakes his head as his eyes plead for mercy. That’s enough. Raising your hands up in defense, you grin back at Ollie. “You’re not mentioning anything if you know what's good for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You tilt your head back. “And what’s good for me?”

“If you tell him anything of what you just heard - saw - then I’ll just tell him how you’ve been bending over for every man in this house. Charles, Lando, Lewis, Pierre…you name it.”

“He won’t believe you…”

She laughs sinisterly. “No, I think he will. I mean…You’ve already done it before.”

“Hey,” his soft voice enters the room as you turn to look at him. The Spaniard’s eyes dance between you and your sister and Ben. “Is something wrong?”

Ollie shakes her head with a bright smile as she walks up and kisses him. You flinch. “Nothing, amor. We were just talking.” She runs her hands through his hair as his eyes remain on you. 

“Are you okay?” 

Nodding, you grind your teeth together. “Yes. Ollie was just introducing me to Ben.” Awkwardly, the man waves from behind you. Slowly, Carlos nods.

“Papi asked me to introduce them. You know - with the whole ‘boyfriend’ thing!”

“He was serious about tha- Oh. Okay.” He reaches down to take your sister's hand as he eyes you and Ben. “We should probably leave you two alone then.”

Hastily, you nod. “Sure.”

-

If you were willing to try and fix your relationship with Ollie before, then that was long gone. This is what you knew her for. A pretender. She wistfully makes everyone believe she’s some sort of saint, when really, she’s a wolf in sheep's clothing. She’s a hypocrite. She has a man that everyone desires and she does this? 

You hated her.

You hated seeing the way she beams when Carlos’ mother gives her a necklace that belonged to her own mother. She didn’t deserve it. Or the way his sisters helped her slip in and out of her dress, making sure it's perfect for the big day.

Still, you try your best to be a supportive sister. Especially around the woman who raised a man like Carlos. Biting down on your lip, you take a sip of your champagne as Ollie disappears behind the curtains with the lady who is taking some last minute measurements. Reyes smiles warmly.

“We didn’t know Ollie had a younger sister.”

You smile. “Best well kept secret, right?” The older lady laughs. Your heart warms up as you notice it's the same way Carlos does. Ana and Blanca grin.

“Well, we’re glad to finally get to know you. Might I add, you’re beautiful. Those eyes!”

“Thank you,” you blush.

Ana takes a sip of her drink before clicking her fingers. “That’s what you remind me of! You - Carlos - almost have the same puppy eyes!” She turns to her mother. “Mamá! What’s that saying? Soulmates look alike…Something like that, no?”

“Be quiet, Ani,” Blanca hisses before smiling apologetically. “Excuse her - she can be a bit invasive.”

“No problem,” you reassure as you bite back a smile. Ana frowns.

“Lo siento, I don’t mean to come off as overbearing. It’s just that you do…”

Reyes clears her throat as she winks over at her daughter. “Don’t misunderstand us, please. We love Ollie, we do! It’s just…you’re different.” She examines you. “I like you.”

Their words stick with you like a post it. Do soulmates look alike? Playing with the sand, you circle your finger agonizingly slow. Why did their words matter so much to you?

“I always find you alone.”

You stick your tongue out at Carlos as he chuckles at your childish behavior. You pat the sand, inviting him to join you. What are you doing out here? You point at the ocean. “I told you it was my favorite place.” 

“Ah. I see.” 

You sneak in a quick look before looking straight ahead. “Nervous?”

“About?”

“Marrying a monster.”

He gives you a deadpan look, bumping his shoulder to yours. “She’s not that bad, you know.” He glances at you. “Ollie has been there for me through so much. Through my failures. Through my accomplishments. She’s the one who convinced me not to quit racing.”

“You were thinking of quitting?”

He nods. “It’s not as easy as it looks. It fucks you up mentally. But she…” He smiles. “She helped me overcome that. I thank her everyday for it.”

It’s a bittersweet feeling hearing him talk about her like that. On one hand, you’re thankful that she had made him realize that he should carry on doing what he loved. On the other, you knew her true reasons. She loved having a famous fiancé; someone she can brag out to the rest of the world.

Somewhere, far away, you hear a melody. It’s low enough that if you didn’t pay close attention, you wouldn’t catch on to it, but you did. You grab his hand, leading him to stand up. He quirks a full brow. 

“Want to dance?”

“I thought you said you didn’t know how to.”

“Nice memory, old man.” You gently kick some sand towards him. “But I feel like dancing. Plus, you should be practicing.”

Tugging you closer, he hums. “Alright. Only because that's true.”

His hands feel warm against you - so much so - it feels as if he’s on fire. An ease comes to it, too, as you both sway under the moonlight. You giggle when he spins you, dress flying around you like petals. The way you grin makes his heart speed up in a way he’s never felt before. It’s alarming. He pinches your hip as you yelp.

“Mentirosa.”

“Wha- No, I’m not! Can’t dance to save my life.” Clumsily, you dig your toes into the sand. He winces playfully. 

The air grows heavy the moment he brushes your hair behind your ear. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean against his warm hand. One look, and he’s hooked. It’s meant to be something lighthearted, but the way he wishes to feel your soft lips against his indicates that it’s not. He’s tried his best to see you for what you are; his fiancée’s little sister. Someone he shouldn’t find himself caring if they slept well, ate their three meals a day, or that they didn’t talk to any other man that wasn’t him or your father. This was sick and twisted and yet…

His lips meet yours as your eyes spring open for a nanosecond before letting yourself go under. It feels as if you’re exploding like firecrackers on a Fourth of July. Something about the way he cradles your face endearingly has your head spinning. Knees become weak, but his grip is secure. It’s better than you could have ever imagined. His tongue fights for dominance and when you don’t give it to him, he squeezes your ass. Moaning, you open your mouth and that's all it took. He kisses you the way you’ve seen in movies - only better. He’s hungry - desperate - for you as you smile against him. Biting down on his bottom lip, he groans as he kisses you harder than before. You were beginning to think your lips were about to snap. 

Letting go, he stands there, staggered. He’s ashamed when he realizes that he regrets nothing. You both stay quiet; only waves crashing and heavy pants being heard. At first you think he’s going to apologize, and maybe that might have been the case, but no words would come out. Pressing a peck against his swollen lips, you smile.

“Goodnight, Carlos.”

-

Carlos rues the day that he kissed you because that only made things more complicated. He couldn’t find a way to not look for you when he walks into the garden, full of family and friends. Or the way he would want to punch Max when he made you laugh. But there is also something sweet. Like the way you would gossip with his sisters and share stories with his parents. He had never seen them laugh and smile so much, not even with Ollie. 

He flinches at the cold hand that wraps around his own. Faking a smile, he presses a soft kiss on top of his fiancée’s head. Continuing the clicking against her glass, she smiles widely. 

“Grazie a tutti per esservi uniti a noi!”

Everyone claps and a few of the drivers whistle. Rolling your eyes, you lean your head against your father’s shoulder. His heart skips a beat. Ollie continued her speech filled with thank you’s, thank you’s and more thank you’s. Your father kissed your cheek before making his way up to his eldest. Taking the microphone from Ollie, he starts to share warm felt memories about her. You have to admit, you’re jealous about their bond. Somewhere in the past, that had been viciously stolen from you. He notices the way you shrink with sadness and he finds himself about to walk over to you when Ollie laughs awkwardly. Amor. It’s your turn.

“Right.” Fixing his rolled up sleeves, he smiles at the crowd of guests. “Uh…Well like my fiancée said, we’re extremely happy to have you all here. It takes a lot to get this many people out here all at once.” A few laughs echo as he continues. “This means a lot to me, too, to have my friends and family. To have met new faces.” His gaze flickers past you as your breath hitches. “Many ask me what about Ollie made me fall in love with her…And I’m here to be as brutally honest as I could get. I love the way she makes me feel as crazy as the ocean. I could spend calm days with her and not worry about getting bored. Or I could find myself getting into trouble. Ollie has made me a better man. Because of her I know what true love is…” His loopy eyes meet yours. “True love are the waves that meet the shore.” 

He lets out a sheepish smile. I want love like that, Lando yells out as he downs his glass of milk. Everyone claps and cheers and that’s where your nightmare begins. 

Let’s give it up for the happy couple! Kiss, kiss, kiss!

The chants continue as Carlos let out a nervous laugh. That’s something private between me and her, he tries but finds himself being booed. Leaning down, he pulls Ollie in for a peck before pulling away with a tight lipped smile. He hates himself for his sudden realization.

Kissing her suddenly did feel like a chore.

With all the whoops and whistles being thrown out by friends, he finds himself trying to find you. It doesn’t take long as he notices you had picked up on your conversation with the Dutchman. His jaw clenches. 

“Maybe Ollie’s younger sister would like to share a few words.”

Why would he say that? Frozen, you choke mid sip. Me? Your father beams as he nods excitedly. Oh! That’s such a great idea! Unfamiliar faces turn to look at you as they wait. Taking in a deep breath, you nod as you make your way over.

As he hands you the microphone, he can’t stop himself from grazing his fingers against your hand. Coughing, you yank it fast. 

“Ciao a tutti.” Everyone greets you back as you lick your lips. You take a moment to figure out what to say, but there’s not much. Cringing, you try to come up with anything. “As some may know, I’m Ollie’s sister…And I could go on forever about how great she is-” You suppress a sarcastic laugh as Carlos knowingly winks. Your nerves ease up. “But I think I should talk about the man who makes my sister the happiest. Carlos Sainz…When I first met you, you seemed uptight - more than the Grinch - but slowly I got to know the man that even my papi swoons over.” 

True, your father laughs. “You’re kind, respectful, and charming…Ollie is one very lucky girl. But there’s something also sensitive inside of you…Despite the permanent frown on your face, you still seem to like days by the ocean. Maybe it's a reminder that peace still exists or maybe it's the way…” Looking up, you see everyone staring deeply. Suddenly, you feel like this might be oversharing as you twirl your dress. “...Or maybe it's the way your face lights up when you take my sister dancing on the sand. Uh…Thank you for making her happy.” Handing the mic back to Carlos, you smile weakly at the strong claps. 

“That was quite sentimental,” Max points out as you bite down on your finger. Was it too much? He shakes his head. “Don’t worry. It looks like you and Carlos get along well enough. I, for sure, thought he hated you with the way he looks at you.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You pause. “I thought so, too.”

-

Aside from the fact that the wedding was approaching quickly, the mansion was quiet. The silence can almost be heard; it's scary. Carefully, you fix your dress as you skip down the stairs barefoot, lollipop painting your lips red. 

Peeking around the corner, giddiness fills your body as you snatch a handful of pre-washed cherries. Earlier that day, your father had scolded you for finishing the new batch. Popping them into your mouth, you hum a song as you kick your legs against the kitchen counter. It creeps you out the moment a chill runs down your spine. As if someone were watching.

“Boo!”

“Santa mierda,” you yelp as you clutch your heart. Laughing loudly, the Spaniard bends over as he gasps for air. You pout and kick his knee. “Cabrón, you scared me! Warn a girl!”

“Fuck - I’m sorry.” His lips form a thin line as he stands firm. Slowly, the corners lift up, wobbly at his poor attempt to not burst out laughing. You frown.

“You’re fucked up.”

Again, his laughs echo the dimly lit kitchen. “Can I have some?”

“No. They’re mine. Grab your own.”

He narrows his eyes. “Aren’t you on cherry prohibition or something like that?” You gasp as you look around before flipping him off.

“Keep your voice low or papi will disown me!”

He zips his lips as he whispers. “I won’t tell a soul. But I want one of those in exchange.”

Tapping your finger against your lip, you pretend to think about it before nodding. You extend your hand out, a single red cherry for him. You’re waiting for him to take it and leave to where he came from, but what he does instead has you swallowing a lump down your throat.

Crouching down, he opens his mouth as he picks up the cherry, lips slightly wrapping around your fingers. This was triggering you as you tried your best to keep sane. But there was no way of going about that when he looked up at you with deep, brown eyes. Licking the red juice sliding down your hands, he steps back. He licks his lips before swallowing. It amazes you the way his Adam’s Apple jumps up and down; thick neck begging to be sucked on.

“Fucking delicious.”

Blinking, you look down at the rest of the cherries in hand. All of a sudden they seemed like a sultry fruit rather than a drupe. 

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Of cours-s-e.”

Stupefied, you throw the leftovers straight into the trash bin. You had no clue what made you do that. A small chuckle escapes past his lips as you shut your eyes in embarrassment. Maybe they weren’t as sweet as you made them seem. Too mortified to speak, you keep your eyes focused on the way your feet hit the wood as a distraction. It takes all of you to not run away as he steps closer once again.

“Is there something in that dirty little mind of yours?”

The room feels hot all of a sudden as you shake your head. There’s no words in your vocabulary when he stands this close. You can smell his cologne mixed with shampoo. If richness were a scent then this would definitely be it. His hands cage you in like a butterfly behind glass. Clicking his tongue, he steps aside as you let out a shaky breath. Taking the opportunity, you jump off the edge, bare feet slapping against the cold tiles. Cuidado, he mutters when you almost slip from the sudden action. 

“If you need anything I’ll be upstairs.”

Not sure why you said that, but it seemed like a rationalized excuse. Por supuesto. And that would have been the end of your night. That would have been another successful day of not falling for the forbidden apple. You had held out for so long; the kiss didn’t count. But it only takes a few steps for him to clear his throat. Almost as if this were your secret language, you spin and you find him staring after you; dazzling eyes following your every movement as if he’s trying his best to decipher anything you do.

Smiling wide enough for your eyes to look as if they had a smile of their own, you think - fuck the consequences - as you clumsily run up to him; jumping like a kid onto a tree. Legs wrap around his torso and his hands hold you close to him.

“Do you-”

“Yes,” he whispers. “Since the first day you walked through those doors: yes.”

If you had thought you were obsessed with his kisses before, you were wrong. So very wrong. Because now you were addicted. He kisses you with urgency as you run your hands through his locks, so soft against your fingers. He grunts when you tug on it. 

His kisses were stimulating enough for you to plead for something. Anything. Smirking, he pecks your nose before leading you both upstairs. It amazed you how he could continue kissing you as he hurried to get to the bedroom. Noticing him making his way into his and Ollie’s, you pull away. There’s no way you would let him do that. You spin your finger lazily through his hair.

“How about mine?”

He doesn't care if he fucked you against the floor, he needed you. Kicking the door shut, he throws you onto your bed as you squeal. He smiles fondly as you brush your hair out of your face. He’s had his fair share of girls. Models, nepo-babies, Ollie, but none of them compare to you. 

He was almost scared of touching you again, even though that’s exactly what he wanted. Doe eyes stare back at him as his cock gets harder at the sight. Ollie had always tried her best to look at him that way, but you didn’t even have to try. It naturally happened. Nothing about this felt forced.

You look untouchable. Like a complete goddess waiting to be ruined. Carlos, you would say as you squeeze your tits, eyes struggling to stay open. Carlos, please. Don’t be mean. Towering over you, he shakes his head.

“Linda, I could never be mean to you.”

Slipping your dress off, he groans when he sees you weren’t wearing anything underneath. He shuts his eyes as he tries to not finish inside his pants, which by the way, were starting to hurt. He pinches your nipple before slapping your tits. You hiss. 

“Please tell me you did this for me and no one else…”

“You know it’s always been for you.”

With that, he stands up as he yanks his shirt off; jeans and boxers following right after. A bit worried, you find yourself staring at his rock hard dick. You had never been with some as big as him; it kind of looked as if it would split you right open. That didn’t stop you from wanting it, though.

“Don’t worry. I’ll prepare you nice and good, cariño.”

His lustful tone snaps you out of it as you nod. His fingers rub your wet folds as you cling onto his bicep. C-Carlos. “I know, baby, I know,” he coos as he focuses on the way your face pinches. He slowly starts slipping his finger in as you gasp at the thickness. So big and long. He chuckles. “Oh, come on now. It’s not even fully inside of you yet.”

Stunned, you look down and sure enough, it isn’t. You almost cry out when you notice it’s barely even the tip. “I don’t think it’s going to fit.” He kisses your temple as he slips his finger back out. 

“Let’s start off with something else then.”

You almost pass out when he angles himself in front of your pussy. Glistening clit stares back at him as he moans. So pretty, he thinks as he touches you slowly. He stops himself, though, as he goes in for kitten licks instead. You squirm. His large hands pushed you down against the bed, to keep you in place. 

“Do you want me to make the ache in between your legs go away?”

“Yes.”

His pink tongue teases you as he hums. You bite down sharply. “You’re going to have to stay still. Relax, bonita.” Following instructions, you close your eyes, trying your best to not think of the handsome Spaniard. As if that were possible. Impressed, he leans in again as he licks you, picking up your pre-cum. Oh, fuck. 

Then it’s almost as if Carlos is taken over by something as he dives in like some animal. His stubble burns your legs, but you’re too fucked out to even care. You’re sure you're being loud, but how can you not be when he licks and sticks his tongue inside of you, exploring places you never knew existed. You choke back a moan when he rubs his nose against your clit, only adding to the euphoria. 

“Yes. Oh. Fuck, yes.” Looking down at the brunette, you find him taking in your appearance as he rubs himself against the sheets; a way to try and pleasure himself. And that’s enough for you to cum all over his face. He smiles as he greedily tries to drink up everything you give him. He knows he lost control, but he loves the way you were able to keep up. To take everything he gave you.

And that was only going to multiply.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” he groans in between your legs, picking up the white nectar. Crying out, you push his face away as you gasp for air. He sucks your tits as you take a break. His tongue swirls around your bud as you wiggle against him like a fish that jumped out onto land. He laughs. “Can you handle my fingers, now?”

No, you whisper as you push him away. But he knows you’re giving up too soon. He knows there’s an animal inside of you and he’s just waiting for it to decide to join him. He ignores you as he slides his fingers down to your center. You mewl against him. “Hey, hey, I got you, cariño. I’m right here.” 

His voice makes you clench harder against his fingers as he grins like a kid at a candy store. Slowly, you start dripping more than before, making it easier for his fingers to slide in and out of your hole. Can you handle a third? “Yes,” you respond, eyes still screwed shut. Hot air hits your ear.

“There she is…Good girl. Justo asi.”

Picking up speed, his fingers reach the gummy part inside of you as you scratch his arms in an attempt to remind yourself to not black out. His long fingers cross, doing figure 8’s as he touches your g-spot as if he knows your entire body better than any map. Leaning up, he bites down onto your nipple before sucking hard. You should be embarrassed with the way you squeal and shake against his actions, but he just made it so hard not to. Much to your surprise, if you dare believe it, he does the thing you last expected.

He adds a fourth digit.

“No, no, no,” you pathetically chant as your eyes fly open. He cocks his head to he side as he clicks in tongue as if seeing you struggle filled him with pride. 

“Ah, ah, ah. Just trust me; do you trust me?”

He didn’t need to ask because he knew you did. I do, you whimper out as you start grinding against his fingers. Amazement fills his dark eyes as he looks down to where you clench around him, juices sliding down his arm. It only takes a couple of more swirls before your shriek, velvety walls clenching around him as you reach your climax. 

Bringing his fingers up to his mouth, he licks your cum as if it were a meal he’s dreamed of having his entire life. Your mouth hangs open as you watch him lick them clean. You’re sure he’s going to fuck you now, but that flies out the window as he lays down as he drags you onto his face.

This man had stamina. Lots of it. You're trying to beg for a break of some sort. I can suck your dick. Give you a handjob. Just please let me rest. But he wasn’t even listening. 

Maybe somewhere deep down, he knew this would be the only night he would have you to himself and if that meant no pauses, then he would push all your buttons.

Like a starved man, he starts licking you all over as you grind against his face. The way he sucks on your clit and adds his fingers make you squeal as you push down harder. His nose rubs against you in such a way, it has you seeing stars. He seems to be enjoying that though, as his moans vibrate against you. Biting hard onto your lip, you try to distract yourself as you reach behind you for his rock hard cock. The moment your small hand wraps around him, he growls like a lion.

Smug over his reaction, your hand slowly starts jerking him off as he eats you out with more urgency. It takes all of you to control your actions as he shakes his face in between your legs. S-slow down, Carlos. He grunts as his actions speed up, but so does your hand. Gripping onto his erection much harder, you furrow your brows as you twist your wrist. Choking on your juices, he opens his eyes wide, whimpers flying past his lips.

Smiling down like the devil, you nod as your hand picks up its pace. Now it's his turn to be groaning with pleasure. He seems to have forgotten what he was doing as he takes in strong whiffs of your aroma. You shudder when his warm breaths escape to warm up your dripping pussy.

His cock twitches and he seems to snap right back into it; already diving back into your hole. Lurching forward, you grip onto his hair as the other remains wrapped around him. It’s a game to see who can make the other cum first, and you were not about to be the loser. 

Lively, you circle your thumb around his pink tip as he groans and finishes all around your hand. Sucking hard, he bites gently onto your clit as you screech and trap his head between your thighs. Shaking, you twitch against him as you reach your third orgasm that night. Huffing, you roll off him as he laps his tongue.

The way he looks at you makes you want to ride his face all over again, but you know you needed a break if you didn’t want the night to end so soon. Kneeling in front of him, you raise your ass up high as you lean down to wrap your lips around his cock. He flinches, slightly sensitive, but doesn’t dare push you away. Instead, he rubs your face with his calloused thumb; encouraging you. There's something so hot about the way your lips stretch around his fat cock. The way drool exits your mouth, messy blots of mascaras on the corners of your eyes.

Light of my life. Fire of my loins.

Gagging around him, you squeeze your eyes shut, feet curling up along the way. For sure, your throat would be bruised tomorrow, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you wanted that. Deepthroating him as best as you can, your small hands wrap around the rest of his length. He was huge. Dirty slurps bounce off the walls. You try your best to not pull away when you feel his sticky pre-cum connect inside your throat. Not when he looked so good with his head thrown back. His thick neck is a clear display. With his large hands wrapped around your hair as he fucks your face like theres no tomorrow. Spanish curses flowing past his lips. 

“Que linda. Arrodillada como una santa.”

When you giggle around his erection, he groans, head thudding against the headboard. His mind quickly slips over to Ollie - but not in the way one might expect. It hits him like a truck when he compares her to you. With Ollie, she would last at least 20 minutes before calling it a night. He pretended not to mind - he would never force her to do something she doesn’t want to, of course - but once she would knock out, his large hand would slide down past his boxers, looking for a new release. 

Then there’s you, ever so pretty. It seems like with everything you do, you want more. You sucking him off as if you’ve done this for him a lifetime ago. Sure, you’re struggling, but that only makes him harder. You’re trying to keep up with him and it’s working. Now, it’s like he’s the one trying to keep up. Swallowing, your throat closes around him as he flies forward, voice cracking as he presses for more. 

Glossy eyes look back up at him as you repeat your action. With one last blow, he pulls out as he cums all over your face. His dick immediately gets hard again when you smile wide, fingers going to pick up his mess. Greedily, you pout as you wrap your lips around your finger like the lollipop you had been sucking on a few hours ago.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, abs contracting together as he tries his best to even out his breaths. 

“Will you fuck me now?” 

You’re moving at a snail's pace as you lick his sweaty neck. A chill runs down his spine with the feeling of your warm tongue. Grinding slowly against his thigh, you throw your head back with pleasure, wet lips rubbing against him. He smiles.

“You’re a dirty girl, you know that?”

“I thought that’s what you liked about me, papi.”

In a flash, he flips you onto your back as he hovers over you like a giant. A beautiful, beautiful, giant. His large muscles he works so hard for stare back at you as you admire with an open mouth. It looks as if he could carry mountains on his shoulders. Dilated pupils admire you as you let out a pathetic whimper. Long gone were his brown eyes as they now appear completely black. Sensual.

“Then you should be fucked as such.”

With that, he swings your tan legs over his broad shoulders, practically bending you like a pretzel. You pat yourself on the back for all those pilate classes. Jerking himself off a bit, he looks straight at you, making sure this was something you wanted. The way you bat your cartoon eyes is all he needs to slip inside of you.

First thing he notices is how tight you are despite him already stretching you out to perfection. Raw moans leave both your lips as you try your best to adjust to his size. You had been with men before - that’s all you really knew - but no one’s cock had ever made you burn with such satisfaction. More than satisfaction. He’s reassuring you with his words in order for you to relax.

I’ve got you, preciosa. Just let go for me. I’m right here.

Still, you can’t help but squirm underneath him. His fingers make their way to your mouth as you stare back confused. Suck, he commands before forcing them in. Caught off guard, you gag around them for a bit before your tongue begins to twirl around them. Your cheeks burn up as you hear your low mewls. Ah- ah- ah, you cry out against his digits as he grins down at you. Retracting them, he slides them down to your clit as he starts rubbing small circles.

“Oh God.”

Instantly, you open up against his tired cock as he hums. There you go, he praises as you make it easier for him to thrust into you. You should both be ashamed of the way gushy sounds bloom from your mixed cum. Or the way he pounds into you so hard and fast that it has you sliding further back against the bed, hair tangling along the way. His fingers dig into your calves as he holds them in place.

“Mierda,” he wheezes as he throws his head back, ripping his eyes away from the way your puffy clit envelopes around him. Pants and whimpers escape you as you arch your back from the fulfillment. 

Carlos is a man - you know that - but in this moment; right now: he’s proving it the way a scientist would their hypothesis. His cock brushes against your g-spot as you gasp at the sensation. He’s looking at you as if you held the key to all secrets. 

The keys for the gate to Heaven.

Though he knows that this all feels like Heaven, he deserves nothing but Hell for cheating on Ollie. But that’s the least of his worries.

“Does that feel good, bonita?” 

Wide eyes look up at him desperately as you nod to the point where your neck starts to ache. Yes - Oh God, yes. So good, Carlitos. Yeah, baby - right there. Snapping his hips harder against you, your mind goes foggy with the way his hair flops around him. Sweat causing long strands to stick to his face. Beads of sweat drip down your legs as he presses sloppy kisses. His cheeks look as if he’s been out in the sun for hours. 

In this moment; he looked immortal.

“Carlos, I’m gonna-”

“Hold it.”

Like a doll, you flop back against the bed as you start to leak acid. No - please. Don’t ask me to do that. Feeling a sharp sting, you gasp. His hands dives back in to massage your cheek after slapping you. He cocks his head with fake sympathy. “I know you can do it,” - thrust - “Wait for me, yeah?”

You have no word as you wail - tits bouncing with every assault from his hip. Your stomach burns with the way his abs glisten, with the way his bottom lip juts out, or the way his muscles shine with a layer of sweat as they hug your legs like a teddy bear. 

He was yours. In this moment, he was yours.

“Alright, linda-” He brushes your hair out of your face as he wipes your sweat with his hand. “Cum for me?”

It’s an out of body experience the moment you squirt around his dick - the way your tummy feels like it's on fire. Sore groans leave his lips as he finishes inside of you, brown eyes trained on the way you gush around him. He freezes in place at the feeling. You squirm for a few seconds below falling limp against the bed. The room smells like nothing but filthy sex. 

Pulling out of you, he carefully places your legs back down before kissing your ribs. Then your bruised tits. Then your cheeks, forehead, and lastly, your lips that taste like home. Sighing against him, you try your best to remember the way he kisses you as if you're the only form of oxygen that exists. As if this were a dystopian world and you were the only source of survival.

He pecks your lips once more before brushing his fingers against your temple. “Get some sleep.” Yawning, you nod as your eyes flutter like a butterfly's wings. Will you stay? And he doesn’t know what takes over him when he says-

“I will.”

-

When you wake up you notice it’s still dark out. The moon shines, eyes flickering around, looking for the Spaniard. You let out a low breath of relief when you see him sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Ollie,” he whispers into the phone as he runs a hand against his jaw. “...I made a mistake.”

Your heart stops with his words. He makes sure to speak low, thinking you're sound asleep. She - I - it was a mistake. She’s just a kid…Fuck. She’s just a child. Your heart shatters with the evident blame in his voice. You weren’t a kid. Sniffling, you stop breathing when you realize you’re crying. He pauses for a moment before standing up and making sure you’re okay. Bringing the phone up against his ear, he shakes, already walking out the door.

“Where are you? Let me just see you, amor. I’ll explain it all.”

-

There’s a saying that goes: You know, a heart can be broken, but it keeps on beating, just the same.

You would personally like to punch that person in the face. It’s not true. It doesn’t beat the same - because then why does it hurt everytime it pounds against your chest? Why is it hard to breath when the priest says-

“You may now kiss the bride!”

Everyone’s faces are blurry; cheers sound far away. You can’t be too sure you're standing upright as your father beams at the sight of Ollie pressing her lips up against Carlos. The way his hands slide down to her waist as shows her off proudly like some champion ring is what hurts the most. You feel flames all over your skin, letting out a flinch when your fathers signals for you to clap, too.

You don’t know what happened after that night. Whether Ollie forgave him or not - though clearly she had. Maybe she didn’t know about you the same way he didn’t know about Ben. This was all starting to feel like some nightmare. But it’s very much real life with the way the newlyweds hold hands, smiling brightly as guests throw a mixture of confetti and baby breath.

“Nice ceremony.”

“What? Oh.” You shrug towards Max as he points over at the couple. “Y-yeah. It was…”

He goes over his next words for a moment because Lord knows that if he has it all wrong then he would appear to be the biggest jerk to ever exist. “You fell in love with him, didn’t you?”

“I-I-I’m not sure I understand,” you trample over your words as your cheeks burn the same color of your red dress. He shares a small smile.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

Walking away, you’re left alone, second guessing everything. The violin seemed too happy. The guests seemed too bright. All of this was fake, couldn’t they see? Pursing your lips, you try your best to hide your broken heart as you catch up with old friends. How is college? How does it feel like having a brother-in-law who drives for Formula 1? Must feel pretty great, right? 

The night is boring. Half of it you spend faking smiles and the other you spend trying to avoid the Spaniard. Life was better back in Spain, where ironically, he was never around despite it being his home country. You’re in the middle of conversing with the Dutchman - who quite frankly is an honest listener - when Ollie walks up looking like a ball of whipped cream. Can I talk to my sister alone, please? Max’s concerned eyes ask if you’re okay with that as you nod. Slumping away, he squeezes your knee one last time.

Blue Velvet plays as she fixes herself onto the stool right next to you. “Have you tried the cocktails? They have cherry flavored; your favorite.” Something about her sweet voice makes you unsteady as you raise a brow. She shows off her veneers. “This is weird. Sorry. I’m just so…happy.” 

“Good to know.”

“But enough about me!” She places her left hand over yours, shiny rock sitting perfectly. You wince. “I want to talk about you! How’s school?”

“Like you care.”

She pouts. “I do now…” You furrow your brows. What do you mean now? She gasps. “Oh, you poor thing! You don’t know I know!” Your stomach drops. “Well, you know, as your older sister, I’m also your guardian since our mother is too fucked up to look after you…And a little birdie filled me in on your reputation back in Spain.” She giggles as she takes a sip of your drink. “Doesn’t surprise me, though. It only makes sense that you keep messing around with men old enough to be your father. You always had a thing for those.”

“What does this have to do with anything?”

Ollie grins ear to ear when she notices how annoyed you’ve become. “Carlos told you he was born in Madrid, right? Okay, well, he also has a whole bloodline there. And let’s just say, a cousin of his - my goodness, his daughters are beautiful - is a professor at your Uni.”

No.

“And well this birdie also told me how you’ve been sneaking in and out of his lecture room, late at night. And I wonder…What have you and him been doing behind closed doors?”

It can’t be. 

Professor Vázquez de Castro, he says as he extends his hand out, eyes roaming every inch of your body.

Suddenly, the name sounds familiar. The surname is Carlos’ extended one. Ollie’s eyes shine. “I see it’s clicking.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to leave me and my husband alone. I want you to grab your things and leave. Don’t look back; just leave. Don’t contact papi ever again. I don’t want to hear a single thing from you. It’s bad enough you’ve already fucked my spouse.”

She knows. He told her. And they still got married. 

“Ollie, don’t…”

Tugging your hand harshly, she slaps her phone on it. And you don’t know how, but in it, it’s a video of you riding your Professor - Carlos’ cousin.

“Leave or I’ll show this to him. Your choice.”

Wet sobs leave your mouth as you shake your head in disbelief. How did this happen? Who took this video?

“Ollie, please…I love him.”

Her gaze sharpens as she takes the phone back and stands up. “You know what to do.”

Bringing your shaky hand up to your lips, you stare in shock. Wobbly legs walk past Max as he asks if you’re okay. One last smile looks back at him before you brush past by. 

Carlos is craning his neck, looking for you. He had confessed that night, but so had Ollie. He was breaking off the engagement. Spilling apologies as she cried against his chest. Despite it all, he still cared for your sister. But he knew it wasn’t going to work out. He was ready to leave when she brought up the tape of you and a cousin he didn’t even know he had. I’ll get her expelled. Don’t do this, Carlos. And so he stayed. He knew how much you loved school, regardless of what others might think. I just want to help others, you swooned one day by the pool. It’s what I wish someone had done for me.

You get to him before he spots you as you tap on his shoulder. He fills up with worry when he sees your red brimmed eyes. Sheepishly, you take his handkerchief as you wipe your rosy nose. What happened? Who made you cry? You shrug.

“Carlos…I love you.” He blinks. You let out a wet laugh as you lean up to kiss him. You didn’t care who saw anymore. This was it. He doesn’t seem to care either as his hands wrap around your waist. Holding you close, as if you might vanish into thin air. He was the waves, you were the shore. Pulling away, you wink. “Save me a dance, yeah?” 

Then, you’re walking away. Becoming smaller as you stroll over to the Italian house. Clutching his chest, he chokes: I-I…I.

“Carlos!”

Turning to face Ollie, he sees her waving him over to the giant cake. 

“Coming.”

-

Running into the quiet house, he calls your name. He looks behind every door, hoping to find the girl in red. Stumbling up the stairs, he swings your door open. He breathes heavily when he doesn’t find you, even here. Panicked, he grips his hair in despair. Only then, does it occur to him to open the restroom door, hoping to not scare you.

“¿Bonita?”

Silence. He still pushes it open as he carefully walks in, finding no harm in checking. And why? Why couldn’t he be as truthful like you were? Risk it the way you would have willingly done. Why did he let you walk into the house alone?

Falling to his knees, he desperately crawls over to your lifeless body, dark blood flowing from your wrists. 

As red as your dress.

He must be dreaming. This can’t be real. Surely, it can’t.

“No, no, no.” He drags your limp body into his arms. He can’t even pinpoint the moment his tears flow down his face. “Bonita, no. No. No. No.” The Spaniard cradles your colorless face into his hands. He gently taps your face a few times, but almost stops breathing himself when it only rolls back. Blood stains his white shirt. “Hey, hey.  C’mon, please. You want me to say it?” Hurriedly, he picks up your head as he kisses your lips over and over. He winces when he feels how chapped they’ve become.

“It doesn’t feel forced. I’m not saying it because I think it’s what you want to hear - I love you. I do. I love you as infinite as the ocean. I love the way you laugh, the way you trip over anything in your way, the way you say my name…I love you.” 

But he knew you weren’t listening. Not anymore. 

A piece of him died that day along with you. After that, life was a sickening blur. He’s out of it the moment he hears your father yelling out in agony or when Ollie screams at the gruesome scene. 

None of it mattered anymore.

[glamourscat]

MASSIVE SLAY for calling out the tim drake mischaracterization. If you ever write for him I'll be the first one to read istg

⋆˚౨ৎ Tim Drake HCS ౨ৎ ⋆.˚

<33, thank you :') Tim is not only my fav Robin, but perhaps my fav batfamily member. I can yap about him for hours lmao. and since i am a yapper at heart here some headcanons for Tim, along side A SMUTTY ONESHOT

habit of FaceTiming you after patrol and using it as a gossip (shit talking) session “And you won’t believe what that motherfuck—“

CEO of “this is us”. Spams you with TikTok’s and cringy memes that remind him of you two together or just you in general.

He is chronically online, but not in the cringy gen alpha way, but in the way that he somehow knows every obscure gossips / cancellations happening. Even in niche that he is not into (like chef tini's thanksgiving mac and cheese controversy)

He is so smart, with the highest IQ in the batfamily after Bruce and yet he somehow decides that it's a good idea to try and take the piece of stuck toast with a fork... in a plugged, working, toaster. He is the type of person who's smart academically, gifted even, but never tries-- in fact he finds school boring (and i think this is canon)

Has a private account on social media, the ones that look like fake/bots right? Private with like 10 followers, and he posts mainly his s/o, pictures with his friends and his photography pictures.

He knows how to skate in canon. Stay assured he will teach you how to skate too. Late night skate practices when he doesn't have patrol, or during the summer going to the arcades together -- or driving to the nearest 7/11 to buy a slurpee.

OVER HIS DEAD BODY will he admit this, but he is a cuddler enjoyer. He is pretty short, so if youre slightly taller than him or larger, he is heaven. He likes to bottle up his feelings until he explodes, but, in those quiet nights when he can rests his head on your chest and relax by the sound of your heartbeat... he knows it will all be alright.

Doesn't know how to enjoy things normally. It's even all in with him or none at all. (like i mentioned here) emotionally he is stunned. He either goes down the rabbit hole and become utterly unhinged or is nonchalant, and you know in that moment you have lost him. This can apply for both relationships, friendships and even things like watching a new show or read a new book.

Is so pretty. Long black eyelashes, soft blue eyes that are so bright, his hair are of a shade of black that reminds you of the midnight sky. His muscles are just right. He is pale and yet has a warmness to him you can't really explain.

When he is not patrolling he actually has a pretty stable routine. Tim can be a control freak, and surely he, as the work alcholic vigilante he is, won't make his immune system— which is already weak withouth a spleen— grow any weaker. He takes great care of himself. With going to sleep early, taking breaks, drinks tea, morning walks at 6am...

Has a loud mouth. Most will assume Jason would be the one to swear the most right? And I mean, he is, just not the number one. The number one is this meany right here. Who, in every three words, inserts a swearing word you didn’t even know existed.

Secretly a romantic but not in the "normal way." His love would show up in the little things -> like taking notice of what you like, your fav characters, songs, foods, colour, animal etc.. and keeping it mind when needed. He is there for you when you need him, and he might not be good with words, but for sure he is good at taking care of you with touch.

MIXED TAPES!! You lost the count of how many burned CDs he gifted you, with an accurate playlist of songs chosen mirroring what he wants to portray. Anniversary? Bday? Holidays? He will gift you one along side another present for sure.

“What is this?” Your voice holding a hint of curiosity, surprise even as you look at him with soft eyes

“Pre anniversary gift. I wanted to gift you something— meaningful I suppose” he says shrugging, trying to act nonchalant but failing miserably as his big blue eyes were waiting to hear your contentment.

“Aww, you’re so cute …” you tease, on purpose making your tone slightly higher pitch. It might seem sarcastic, but truly it's not. Because you’re extremely grateful, every mixed tape is a little treasure you cherish with all of your heart. You just enjoy messing with him, because his face goes always so red.

“Alright, shut up now” he says, while rolling his eyes. Trying to act annoyed, but you can see right through him. He is miserably failing with this little act, because his love sick smile is big enough to bright the whole room.

百個心都裝唔晒我對你嘅愛= A hundred hearts would be too few to carry all my love for you | in cantonese

Playlist: Slide away - oasis Useless ID - Kiss Me, Kill Me Kiss Me Deadly by Generation X When it’s time - green day somebody - depeche mode Just like heaven - the cure First date - blink-182 Lucky man - the verve Good good things - descendents Teenage Bottlerocket - Spend the Night Teenage Bottlerocket - Don't Go

The drawing is made by me btw!!

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Spoil of War

dark!aegon x niece!reader

summary: aegon enjoys his time with his prisoner of war

A/N: my bad y'all, it took me forever to get this up

TW: MAJOR DUBCON, smut!!, bondage, incest, violence, kidnapping, degradation, body worship perhaps

word count: 2,245 words

You sit in your childhood bedroom, stewing with your thoughts. It was all so quick, the battle with Daeron, the demise of your dragon. You should be grateful; she spent her last moments cushioning your fall so you wouldn’t die on impact, but you can’t help thinking that you would be better off dead. There’s hardly anything worse than being a prisoner of war, except being Aegon’s prisoner of war.

Speak of the Devil, Aegon has the guards open your chamber doors and the smug bastard strolls in. “Ah, my sweet niece. I finally have the chance to lay my eyes on you.” He regards your nightgown with great interest. You haven’t had a chance to dress yourself for the day yet. “You’ve been quite the subject of controversy as of late.” He says with a light smirk.

“Which part is controversial, the fact that you’re keeping me prisoner, usurper?” You say back to him with spite.

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. It’s a temporary situation.” He says, unconcerned as he walks over to your dining table of untouched food and picks up an apple, taking a bite of it. “Once your mother bends the knee, i’ll return you to her. It’s as easy as that.”

“Or they’ll take control of King’s Landing and Daemon will slaughter you where you stand.” You’ve never heard your voice filled with such hate before as when you speak now.

“Come on, the threats are hardly necessary. You are safe with us - for the time being.” He makes a stupid joking cringe face at the second part of his sentence. “You could do with being more amicable.”

“Amicable? I’m your fucking prisoner and if her Grace the Queen doesn’t bend the knee to your spoiled, traitorus ass, you’ll execute me.”

“War doesn’t often give you many options. And you, my dear niece, are a very valuable bargaining chip.” As he speaks, you know he takes the utmost pleasure in you being in his control. You want to wipe the smug grin off his face.

You reach for the piece of glass you had hidden, ever so slowly. You feel your hand clutch it and your gaze is filled with rage as you launch yourself at him. “You traitor!” You aim for his throat with the sharp point but he catches your arm. The broken glass barely grazes him, leaving only the thinnest line of blood as proof of your attack. He twists your arm and the piece of glass clatters to the floor. Your uncle releases you only so he can backhand you so hard that you fall to the floor.

“Gods, you’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you?” He wipes the drip of the blood off his neck. “Clever girl, going for the throat.” He laughs at you. You just tried to kill him and he laughs at you.

You glare up at him, your face distraught and full of vengeance. You quickly reach for the glass that you had dropped but as soon as you manage to grip it again, Aegon kicks you in the stomach. You curl into yourself, whimpering.

“Okay that’s enough of that. Guards!” The guards immediately enter the room, ready to defend their king. “Restrain her. Use… rope.” He has a certain look on his face as he says the last word, seemingly pleased with himself as he struts out of the room.

You’re left on your knees, by the fireplace for an hour until Aegon returns. Your hands behind your back, the bindings keeping you in place. There is, what you consider to be, an unnecessary amount of rope tied around your body that is seemingly for decoration, for your uncle’s pleasure.

“Are you calm now?” He asks as he strides back into your chamber with arrogance. “I wasn’t sure what the cool down time was for Strong bastards.” His stare is hungry as he looks upon you. “What a pleasant sight, my combative niece tied up at my feet.” He almost mumbles the last part.

“I will be calm when I watch your body burn.” There is heat in your words, your threats.

“That is a lot of big talk for a girl who is kneeling for her king. You’re much more desirable like this… when you’re helpless beneath my gaze.” His fingertips graze under your chin, tilting it up so you have to look at him. You jerk your head away.

“Don’t touch me!” You spit at his feet.

“Silly to say such things when you’re at my mercy.” He kneels down to look at you better, his fingers run along your soft hair. “I’ve never been more tempted. And i’ve been tempted many, many times.” He leans in to whisper in your ear. “I had forgotten how divine you are.”

You know where he’s going with this, what he wants. His finger trails down your nightgown, to your breast, giving it a light squeeze. “You’ll burn in the Seven Hells for this!” You say as you fight against your restraints.

He ignores your words. “If I were a more brazen man, i’d ravish you right here and now… oh wait.” He chuckles at his own joke.

The fire burns bright behind you and his dagger gleams in the warm light as he unsheathes it. He cuts one of the cap sleeves of your nightgown. “You have no right.” Your eyes flare bolder than dragonflame as you speak.

“Oh, my lovely sweet niece, I absolutely have the right because you are under my protection. If I want to rip that nightgown off and ravage you, who’s going to stop me?” He says sadistically… lustfully as he cuts the other cap of your gown.

“It’s not a proper way to treat an important bargaining chip.” You say softly. To be truthful, younger you would be preening at the chance to be so close to Aegon. Up until now, you had thought that part of you had died with Luke. Now, he’s so close, so... alluring.

“It’s not, but when have I ever been known to behave properly?” He then cuts your nightgown off of you, down the middle and as swiftly as he can without cutting through your bonds, leaving you naked other than the smallclothes that barely cover your lower half.

His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you almost completely naked. His hand falls to your thigh, rubbing the smooth soft skin. “You’ve always had such a lovely figure, niece.”

You flinch and squirm some more. And then you begin to scream bloody murder. Aegon winces before grabbing part of your torn nightgown and shoving it in your mouth. “Such a noisy girl. Now, that’s better. You shouldn’t scream so much. I only intend to show you a good time. I promise you’ll love it.”  He smirks again. “Well… i’ll love it.”

His other hand trails up your navel, to your breast, giving it another squeeze. He then pushes you back on the flocculent carpet and what a sight you make with your hair splayed around you and your pretty mouth gagged. The pillows are strewn about you, in place so you can sit as close to the crackling fire as you wish. Now, it has become the perfect scene for Aegon to take you. He looks at you as if you are the maiden herself, descended from the heavens to be gifted to him. To him, your fairness outmatches Psyche… it outmatches Aphrodite. 

“You don’t know how long I have waited for this, princess.” He then rips your remaining small clothes off, leaving you completely nude. His eyes just rake over you for a moment before he speaks.  “Ah, a sight I could get used to.” He leans down to kiss your breast, focusing on your nipple, focusing on making you feel good? He litters little marks all over before moving to the other and giving it the same attention. He then begins to methodically kiss down your chest, to your tummy, past your navel. You know what he intends his final destination to be. You keep your legs clamped firmly shut, not fully because you want him to stop, and partly because of the wetness that lies between your thighs.

“Hm, a little shy, are we? How sweet…” It isn’t difficult for him to pry your legs open and he grins at the sight of you dripping for him. “Naughty little girl, all wet for her uncle.” 

You turn your heat to the side so you don’t have to make eye contact with him. He grabs your chin and turns your head back. “No. You will watch as I fuck you with my tongue.” You try not to groan as he licks up between your legs, his eyes on yours as his pupils blow wide. He kisses, licks and nips at you, taking you to places in pleasure you’ve never been before. When his tongue pierces your entrance, you can’t stop the whimper that falls from your lips. You hope the gag muted the sound enough that he wouldn’t hear, but your hopes are dashed when he lifts his head.

“I think I want to hear all the pretty little sounds that you make. No more screaming though. Unless, they’re screams of gratification.” He pulls the torn cloth from your mouth but you keep your lips stubbornly sealed. He shakes his head and chuckles before he is between your thighs again. The man eats you like you’re his last meal but you don’t let a single sound out, much to his displeasure even if he can tell that you don’t do it with ease. 

“Why must you be so difficult?” He asks exasperatedly.

“I want you dead.” He rolls his eyes at the statement. “Perhaps you aren’t as good at pleasuring women as you believe.” That pisses him off.

“You’re such a little liar.” He flips you over so your ass is in the air and your chest and face are squished into a cushion, your hands unable to hold you up due to their bindings. “Perhaps I need to fuck that bratty behaviour out of you.” He says and you hear the rustling of clothes behind you. You know he’s undressing and you know there’s no way you can stop him from taking you now, not with how you have pissed him off, not with how your cunt is so deliciously presented to him. But it won’t stop you from trying.

“Aegon don’t you dare.” You say with all the confidence you can muster. You don’t fear your maidenhood being taken, you fear the possibility of a bastard being put in your belly.

“Don’t you ever presume to tell me what I can and cannot do, wench.” With that, he shoves himself inside of you, all the way to the hilt. You let out a strangled moan and he laughs. “No keeping your sounds to yourself now.” He then begins to piston himself into you, the head of him brushing your cervix with each thrust. You feel so full every time his hips meet yours. “Gods i’ve never felt a cunt so tight and wet.” His hands grip your hips roughly so he can bring them back with each thrust, making it feel like he’s hitting deeper inside of you. 

“Aegon…” You whine out and squeeze a little around him.

“You like it, don’t you? You like it when your uncle fucks you. I’ve taken you as a prisoner and now you’re moaning in pleasure as I use you. What would your brothers think, what would your mother think, if they saw you taking my cock so well?”

You just whine his name again in response, your head too cloudy to give him an answer.

“I want you to say it. Say how much you love having me inside you.” He fucks into you so deeply that all you want to do is obey.

“I l-ove it, uncle. I love it when you fuck me.” You whimper out again as he stretches you so perfectly.

“That’s what I fucking thought.” His finger comes between your legs to rub your clit and you almost scream. “God, you’re such a little cockslut. Am I your first, little niece?”

“Y-Yes…” You say softly and he grins.

“I thought so. Nobody gets so worked up like a maiden.” He rubs you harder, so fast that you see stars. You begin to squirm a little as your walls begin to squeeze around his thick cock.

He grasps your hair at the roots and pulls your head back so you have to look him in the eye. “That’s right, cum around my cock, baby. Do it.” You fully reach your peak with his command. He watches your face contort with pleasure as you finish around his cock, drawing out his own orgasm. He gives a few more hard thrusts before spilling his seed in you. “Good girl.”

You wince as he pulls out, feeling empty now. He easily manoeuvres you back to your knees and stands up with you at his feet. He tilts your chin up so you have to look him in the eye again.

“I’ll be visiting you much more often now. You don’t have the kind of cunt a man can handle only fucking once.” His thumb strokes your cheek. For the depravity he speaks, his voice is surprisingly soft

“I hate you.”

He smiles gently. “Hate me all you want. I can take it.”

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey

[sylus-doll]

Synopsis: It's normal to feel insecure every once in a while. But what would Sylus think of it? You wonder if he'll think that you're too much but you still ask to look through his phone anyway. And he willingly lets you.

Warnings: Low self-esteem and self-doubt, insecurity, jealousy issues (thinking he has other girls), bad relationships (not with Sylus), mentions of stalking (done by Sylus to you), mentions of threat messages.

Author's note: Is this controversial. Idk. I think I'm overbearing, so this is self-indulgent but I hope that it helps if you can relate to it as well. This is based on one of his Destiny Café and affinity level up lines. Comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

You had always been a little insecure of yourself. Comparing yourself to others, envying the life they have, wishing to be a different person entirely. All of this had been ingrained into you like heated iron scorching skin, branding itself onto the fragile fabric of your soul. It would be alright, if it didn't consume your being and take the reigns of your mind at the worst of times.

Previous partners always brushed you off when you wanted to speak to them about your troubles. Telling you that it was fine— that they could handle it. Lies. Maybe they would indulge you once or twice, but they would always end up angry at you for being... difficult. Your jealousy is out of control, your clinginess is overbearing, your need for reassurance is exhausting. Always too much, too high maintenance. It all ends sour.

But you can't help it. The need to satiate this overwhelming emotion withers you away. Your desperate want for someone to claim you as their number one— the only one—overrides rationality. Yet you have learned to bite your tongue. Force your words to die in your throat because you never want to be too much. Especially not for someone like Sylus. Sylus who has always been so understanding and patient and you are terrified that this might tip him over the edge.

Sylus, however, notices that you seem rather lost in thought. Although he has been on his phone for quite some time, nothing gets past him. Not your jittery behaviour or the sighs that escape past your lips as if they were the words you wished to convey but held back on. He sees you fiddling with a trinket, some gemstone he left lying around the base that Mephisto probably went for. Switching off his phone, he sets it aside in favour of staring intently at you, two fingers resting on his temple as he leans on his elbow.

“You seem quite fascinated with that pretty gem, sweetie. Has Mephisto influenced you with a crow's instinct?” Sylus teases you, an opening line for conversation.

You jerk, scowling at the man, “Don't compare me to that bird!”

He only chuckles, shaking his head.

“What's on your mind, sweetie?” The tone of his voice shifts, now noticeably softer. So are his eyes.

Sylus is worried about you, it seems. You glance at him, taking in the way he keeps his eyes only on you. Then briefly direct your gaze towards that damn phone of his before looking into his eyes. Vicious scarlet turned lovesick velvet; it engulfs you in safety. Your lip quivers, and you bite down to stop it from doing so. What would Sylus say if you asked to look through his phone? How irritated or annoyed would he be? But his eyes are so warm, and you crave the gentle adoration it drowns you in.

“Can I... look through your phone?” You ask hesitantly, breaking eye contact first.

Well. That was the last thing he expected you'd ask him. He stares at you a little dumbfounded, only briefly, before regaining his composure. He expected a favor, something grand or perhaps requested the impossible from him. Of all things Sylus owns, and you ask for his mobile device. With a quirk of his brow and small tug at his lips, he gestures for you to come closer. When you do, he sits you across his lap, pulling his phone from the coffee table with his evol and drops it off in your hands.

“Go ahead, sweetie. I have nothing to hide from you, only the authorities.”

Sylus is patient when you begin your... search. Throughout all the apps he has; social media, websites, albums, contacts. You find that most of it contains you and N109 business. Pictures of you that you don't recall him taking, candid ones looking away from the camera. Auction sites where he's betting on antique weapons and vintage wine. Messages to Luke and Kieran regarding missions, and sometimes about keeping an eye on you. Ominous ones from others that come in the form of—

“What do the codes mean?” The question tumbles out of you before you fully think it through. Damn you.

His hand envelops yours, scrolling through the messages with his thumb.

“This one, is a location. Some sort of trap, most likely. The one you looked at earlier was a threat. And as for this...” Sylus explains every single one, not even hesitating.

Once you're satisfied, you give him back his phone. There was nothing. No other girl, no secret lover, not a single piece of incriminating evidence. Shame and guilt immediately take root within you. Sylus is not that kind of person, you should have known that. Should have trusted him more and let it be. Why were you like this? Apologize. It's what you need to do now because maybe he thought you were doubting him.

“I'm sorry—” he cuts you off.

“No. You have nothing to apologize for. Didn't I tell you that you have access to all my resources? Including, but not limited to, my phone. You can take a mile if I give you an inch.”

He brings your hand to his lips, kissing each knuckle. Even the tips of your fingers, and a final one on the inside of your palm.

“Next time, you don't need to ask. Just snatch it away from me if you think I'm giving it too much attention. I'll drop anything to show you how much I adore you.” He looks at you, gaze unwavering.

You will never be too much for Sylus. Everything that you have to offer, he will devour like a dog starved. He has been deprived of the intensity of your affections for far too long to be picky. If your love is tender, he will soften himself from metal to clay and be molded by your hands as best he can. And if your love is untamed ferocity he will embrace you with open arms, ready to be ripped apart. It will be alright— Sylus will stitch himself back together if that was what you needed him to do. That is what he will do to love you.

[emchante]

OOHOUUHHH I NEED DIVORCE DAD DANIEL + PERHAPS CONTROVERSIALLY YOUNGER GF & ❝ You’re not mine. You could never be mine. Yet I want you anyway. I want you so badly that it burns me inside. ❞ I AM ON MY KNEES BEGGING ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ )

burning boundaries | d. ricciardo

divorced dad! daniel series

warnings: 18+ content— gets smutty at the end, age gap, sexual tension, daniel’s filthy mind.

CHRISTINEEEE!! so happy to see you join along with the divorced dad! daniel au!! i LOVE this, actually. its perfect because they do have an age-gap in canon. anyways.. part 2 needed, perhaps?

it wasn’t meant to turn out like this, it was never meant to go this far.

daniel couldn’t have you. you were young, too young. he was divorced, he had two kids. the age gap was socially unacceptable, but that was part of the thrill, wasn’t it?

the day he lay eyes on his new neighbour— you— he knew it would be a hard pill to swallow. looking at you from afar was fine, until it wasn’t. watching you bend down as you watered your plants made him half-hard in his slacks, palming himself as he watched you. seeing you interact with his kids, offering them baked goods that you had freshly made sent his mind in a frenzy, imagining you underneath him as he fucked you full until you had birthed a football team of ricciardo’s.

it escalated, of course. how could it not? but there’s a difference between casual fucking, and a full-fledged relationship. and it was turning into the latter.

tonight you had turned up at his door, drenched from the thunderstorm that had hit the town a few hours ago. you told him you were stuck in the plaza for an hour, before the bus ride and walk home. you told him you wanted to check on him and the kids before you went back to your place, saying that they had been on your mind all day.

daniel tried to ignore the full sentiment behind your words, trying to focus on the fact you wanted to check on his kids, ignoring that you said him too. his eyes raked over your figure, the rain had done a number on you. your hair was flat against your face, your jacket was drenched and he could only imagine your clothes underneath were soaked too. his protective instincts kicked in as he stepped to the side.

“you’re going to catch a cold, get inside,” he tells you, waving his hand towards the living area. you nod at him, a small thank you escaping your lips as you walk inside. you wipe your feet against the door mat before slipping your shoes off, and beginning to unzip your jacket.

daniel’s eyes don’t mean to hover you, but he can’t take them off of you as he watches you reveal the wet clothing underneath your coat. the fabric of your shirt was thin, clearly it never had a chance against the cruel weather. that’s why daniel vision is glued to your body, inspecting how the wet fabric clings to your skin. he swallows thickly as his eyes land on your chest, the fabric almost see-through and therefore exposing more than should be allowed.

he moves his gaze towards your face, seeing your eyes already staring at his own. he raises his brows, face flushing in panic in case he was caught. you don’t seem to mind though, a shy smile on your face as you shift your weight from foot to foot.

“you should shower,” he tells you firmly, scooting past you and walking towards the bathroom. he tries his best to forget the feeling of the few seconds your soft chest was against him. you follow him, assuming you have no say on the matter considering he had already flipped the switch to turn the shower on.

he grabs a towel from the banister outside his bathroom, and rests it upon the radiator inside. you look at him a little confused, and he tilts his head as if to beckon you on.

“i don’t.. have clothes?” you let him know, and daniel drags a hand down his face. it’s not at you, of course. it’s at his own stupidity, that he almost left you with nothing. however, you don’t take it that way, taking a step back from him. “i can go home, it’s no worries danny,” you start, but daniel shakes his head.

“sorry, no. that wasn’t to you, sorry about that sweetheart,” he apologises, heart swelling seeing the way your cheeks flush at the petname. “i’ll go grab you some clothes, and i’ll knock on the door when they’re outside,” he nods, turning away and letting you venture into the bathroom.

he grabs one of his lounging shirts, along with a pair of his pyjama bottoms before he makes his way back to the bathroom door. you haven’t started the shower yet, giving him the perfect opportunity to let you know the clothes are there when you need them. he smiles at the soft “thank you” that comes from the other side of the door.

daniel makes his way back to his bedroom, dropping his head in his hands as he sighs deeply. all of the thoughts about not being able to have you, yet he’s still indulging. still allowing his eyes to trail over you and think the impurest thoughts about you. still calling you sweetheart.

it’s not hard to get lost in his thoughts about this whole thing. the rain as his background noise made it easier. but he wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to think about it. he wished it wasn’t so complicated, that things had happened differently. he wondered if it had been better if he hadn’t spoken to you at all, maybe you were best suited to be the neighbours who simply gave each other a smile before going their separate ways.

it was only when he seen two feet in his vision that he escaped the pit of his thoughts. he lifted his head from his hands, eyes widening as they raked your body. the shirt was oversized on you, and the pyjama bottoms were baggy. it looked too intimate, too domestic for a pair of neighbours. daniel swallowed thickly as you looked up to him with a bashful smile.

“thank you for the clothes, danny. they’re really comfy actually, maybe i should keep them..” you trail off, a small giggle escaping you. and fuck. there it is again. the impure thoughts about ravaging you right then and there. despite everything, he still wanted you— still needed you.

your laughs came to a halt when a surprised gasp left your lips, after being shoved back against the wall. your eyes widened as you looked up to daniel, who had you caged in between his arms. he was staring down at you, a dark look in his eyes that you couldn’t read properly. you watched as his chest heaved, almost as if daniel was panting as he looked at you.

as the deep exhales escaped his nose, you slowly raised your hand to cup his face. before you could reach him though, one of his hands flew from the wall to grab your hand, pinning it above your head.

“danny, what—” “i can’t— we can’t do this,” he interrupts you lowly, shaking his head as he swallows harshly. “it’s wrong, and we can’t.”

your face contorts into a confused, sad expression, unsure on where this has come from. “daniel? what are you talking about?” you ask him, trying to move your hand from above your head but daniel keeps it there, pinned and unmoving.

“you’re not mine. you could never be mine,” daniel says lowly, and you can feel your heart ache at his words. your mouth suddenly feels dry, and no words are forming. luckily— or unluckily— for you, daniel wasn’t finished. “yet, i want you anyway. i want you so badly that it burns me inside.”

you didn’t know how to react, how could you after the words that had just fallen from his mouth? you stared at daniel, wide eyed with your mouth hung open. daniel was looking at you almost expectantly, as if he needed you to reply. but you couldn’t.

that’s when daniel took it upon himself to just bite the bullet.

gazing down to your parted lips, he swallowed thickly as he moved closer to you. his breath grew more ragged the closer he got, and the tension between you was almost unbearable. his hand— still pinning yours above your head— tightened slightly, as if to ground you in the moment.

“i shouldn’t,” he murmured, voice low and strained, yet his lips were already brushing lightly against your own. you could tell he was fighting an inner battle, on whether he should go through with this. you couldn’t imagine the internal turmoil he was experiencing.

so you helped him choose a side.

you inched forward the tiniest bit, so that your lips connected. daniel finally gave in, the restraint and hesitation melting away as soon as he got a taste of you.

the kiss was desperate, hot, and filled with the unspoken emotions that had been simmering these last few months. his free hand moved to cup your jaw, fingers splayed against your cheek as if anchoring himself against you. it was overwhelming when he pressed his body up against yours— his heat, his scent, his everything overwhelming your senses.

your lips parted instinctively, inviting him deeper, and he obliged with a low, guttural sound that sent shivers down your spine. his tongue swept against yours, teasing and tasting, and you couldn’t hold back the gasp that escaped you.

daniel suddenly pulled back, causing a whine to fall from your lips, but he shushed you with a small peck. “none of that, sweetheart. c’mon,” he spoke lowly, moving your joined hands from above your head down to waist level, as he pulled you back towards his bed.

in a swift movement, daniel turned you both so the back of your legs hit the bed, his hand pushing at your chest so your body fell against the soft mattress. daniel’s eyes explored your figure and when he back at your face, he seen a mischievous glint in your eyes.

you moved your right foot to your left leg, using it to tug down the loose pyjama bottoms daniel had offered you not long ago. you switched foot and done the same action on the other side, lifting your ass as you slowly pulled the bottoms down, revealing your bare bottom half.

daniel’s breath got caught in his throat as he stared at your panty-less figure, eyes glued to your exposed cunt.

“come on, danny. i need you,” you whisper with a whine, squeezing your thighs together before spreading your legs out, exposing yourself even more. “please.”

daniel started to unbuckle his belt, desperately trying to get it off as fast as he could. his slacks fell as soon as he loosened the belt, and you licked your lips as you eyed his straining boxers, hoping to see the package that lay underneath real soon.

“oh sweetheart, you won’t be able to say anything but my name when i’m done.”

[lansseaux]

Hellfire

Warnings: S2 spoilers, angst, grief, references to death, reference to the Grey, implied cheating (cait cheating on reader with vi), references to Cait being controversial and reader being compliant

Pairing: Caitlyn Kiramman x fem! reader

Synopsis: Caitlyn returns after failing to kill Jinx.

Author’s note: Two alternative versions of this are in the works because I started rewatching and realised the martial law is instated basically right after Cait comes back 😭 and it’s also during the day - so one version will focus on the instating of the martial law and the other will focus more on the Grey and will see reader getting sick despite Cait’s best efforts.

It had been weeks since Caitlyn had slept in her own bed, weeks since she’d lain beside her girlfriend, weeks which should have born more fruit.

Two of three objectives had been met - Shimmer had been dismantled, and those still loyal to Silco had been neutralised, but it was not enough. Jinx was still out there, her laugh still hammering at Caitlyn’s mind - still waiting, daring, for it to be torn from her throat. That had been the Commander’s priority. She was returning a failure, in the opinions of none other than her own and Salo’s, and it was all Vi’s fault. All of it. How ironic it was this world in which Caitlyn had decided to trust someone like her, the world in which she’d recognised the danger of such and continued anyway. How unfair was it, that despite it being Vi’s fault, she desperately wanted to turn the clocks back, to return to tunnels and take back the words, the hit, she’d dealt Vi.

When she reached her front door, the sky was dark, the stars without their sparkle, but she did her best to swallow the thick lump in her throat, to ignore how lifeless and colourless her world felt, how Zaunite Piltover felt. She had to. For your sake. The last thing she wanted was to take it out on you like she’d taken it out on Vi. Sanitise. Sanitise herself, her uniform, anything she touched before showering, just like she’d sanitised the undercity of Shimmer - that was what needed priority for now. The weeks of exposure meant her uniform was stale with smog, and she didn’t want to take a single chance with either her own or her girlfriend’s health.

Cait was quiet as she pushed the door open, elegant even in exhaustion, gently shutting it behind her. She’d begun removing her gloves when she noticed you in the dim light. Fast asleep on a sofa, a thin blanket over you. Surely you hadn’t been sleeping in here ever since Cait had left. Her departure had been fairly quick, the strategising and execution of this mission beginning on the same day - the day of the attack on the memorial. Perhaps she hadn’t been able to quell your worries as much as she’d thought, as much as she’d hoped. You knew she planned to manipulate the flow of the Grey, she’d told you such, and whilst she had spared your imagination from the plethora of possible side effects stemming from exposure, it had not soothed your soul or heart. There was no need for details, everyone knew the Grey was dangerous - a taboo that topsiders had the luxury of ignoring while Zaunites choked - or so you’d thought, the revelation of the Kiramman ventilation system having been new information Caitlyn had had little time to dwell on when preparing. And so, you’d decided to sleep as comfortably close to the door as possible. Did that bring her home quicker? No. Did it bring her home safe? No. But it soothed you the slightest bit, knowing you would know the second she returned.

Caitlyn sighed softly as she approached, all she could manage to croak out was a weary, “Hey…” You stirred, murmuring softly, your eyes slowly opening a moment later. It took a couple additional seconds for your bleary eyes to focus on her, “Cait?… Cait!” You sat up, feet swinging down to the floor to stand, embrace her and welcome her home but, she held a hand up; she’d already maintained a distance of several paces. “Don’t come any closer. Please,” she said softly; her eyes, obviously tired even in the faint light, caught your confused gaze. “You can’t touch me yet. Not until I’ve showered and changed.” Your mouth had barely opened enough to attempt speech when she added, “It’s okay,” slipping her other glove off, “it’s just a just a precaution, don’t worry.” Her gaze dropped to the gloves in her hands, the fog of exhaustion stumping her a second. Straight to wash, not on the coffee table. Another soft sigh escaped her as she returned her gaze to you, the thoughts she’d been searching for having caught up. “You should go lay down, I won’t be long I promise.” “Cait-” you began. “Please.” Her voice teetered close to a plead. The last thing she wanted was for you to get sick and, in all honesty, she was not as certain as she’d have liked to be that she’d left her anger on the doorstep. Some time to decompress alone would only help. You considered debating, even just slightly, but you stopped yourself. You were tired and the most strenuous thing you had done that day, for the past weeks actually, was attempt to stay up as late as possible in hopes of not missing Caitlyn arriving - of not simply waking up in bed the next morning besides her, having been carried there by her. You wanted to help her, pamper her as she deserved. If you had felt so worn out by that, Caitlyn must have felt shattered. She didn’t deserve any irritant, no matter how innocent the intent behind it might be, so you simply nodded and offered a small smile, “… Okay.” Cait returned the smile, appreciative of your understanding. “I’ll be as quick as I can.” She reiterated softly, watching you begin to head up the stairs, before she took off her shoes.

It took a while for Caitlyn to enter her bedroom, there could be not doubt she’d been thorough. Upon her entrance however, it took little time for her to change and slide beneath the covers you held back for her - the desperation for rest being the predominant driving force. She pulled you close, the tops of your foreheads meeting delicately as a deep, shaky sigh fell from her lips. You hesitated, unsure if now was the best time to ask - on one hand, Cait was exhausted and the subject was touchy, but on the other, perhaps talking would help her have a more restful sleep. “… How’d it go?” The beautiful blue your eyes had only just grown accustomed to in the dark disappeared as her lids fell, a deep inhale had accompanied. One beat of silence followed another, you didn’t think she would respond and you had already decided not to push her. “We accomplished most of our objectives.” She began, “I… I found Jinx.” You tucked some of her hair behind her ear, noting the slight crease forming between her brows, it was still slightly damp. “… Yeah?” “I had her right there.” She continued quietly, “I could’ve… I had the shot… but…” Cait’s breath became marginally agitated, the lingering pads of your fingers on the tucked hair soothing her somewhat, in tandem with your presence, your forehead against hers. She inhaled once more, focusing on those connection points, on your scent, hoping to be grounded, to work through the anger, frustration, disappointment, bitterness and hurt enough that she wouldn’t lash out, that she wouldn’t poison you too. After a minute or two, she had. “Vi stopped me.” As you’d waited for her to find her words, your fingers had mindlessly begun a rhythmic brushing back of the hair you’d pushed behind her ear; the hair wasn’t loose but it felt right, soothing. That revelation, however, had prompted a pause in those ministrations. “… Stopped you?” “… There was… someone else… she didn’t think it was worth the risk… but I had the shot, I wouldn’t have missed. I know it.” A silence settled, the memory - the emotion of that moment, the anger, the betrayal on both sides, the hint of regret - still potent in Caitlyn’s mind as you had found yourself at a loss for words. It wouldn’t make sense for this other person to be anything other than… “A civilian?” Cait withdrew her forehead, a soft rustling accompanying her shift against the silk pillowcases, “… Yes.” You didn’t need to know the entire truth. She couldn’t bear another tone or look of distaste, she wouldn’t accept it. She was an excellent shot, there was no risk of collateral and so the nature of that ‘potential’ collateral was irrelevant. It was simple. “… It’s alright, Cait.” You tried to soothe, partially bringing her from a spiral. Her nostrils flared, unnoticed in the dark, as her arms tensed around you. The slight dampness of her hair cooled your neck, her face having come to nestle in the crook of your neck. She’d been so close and it was clearly tormenting her. “Hey, hey…” you whispered, trying to coax her out. After an initial resistance, she complied albeit reluctantly, the anguish in her eyes clear the second they were visible again. The pads of your thumbs brushed against her cheekbones, drawing your attention to the beginnings of a couple bruises. It was to be expected considering Caitlyn’s line of work and you’d learnt to be somewhat grateful for them - grateful that she’d suffered no worse, at least physically. “You’ll have another chance.” You reminded her as she closed her eyes again, even the touch of the woman she loved most doing little to soothe the fire swirling within. “But it was the perfect chance.” Cait insisted quietly, her voice somewhat hoarse from exhaustion and the effort of staving off a lashing out.

There was no lighting the mood when Cait was in this state, you knew that normally. It was foolish to try but you were tired, the typical tiers of consideration hazy and the attempt migrated from the mist in your mind like miasma, “… If at first you don’t succeed, hm?” Her exhale was heavy and long, caught in her throat - a restrained expression of the anger you had piqued. You didn’t understand what she’d been through, what she was feeling, what she wanted. You couldn’t. Regardless of how many ways she phrased it, how many times she repeated it, the understanding she seeked could only exist in an alumni of similar grief. “Sorry.” Still, she did not respond - inhaling deeply only when the exhale caught in her throat pleaded with a soft rasp and rattle. Her brows knitted together, she knew your intentions were good but it wasn’t enough to usurp the additional anger your words had lain over her soul. At her continued silence, her battle of restraint, you withdrew your hands - only for Cait’s eyes to snap open, a hand shooting out to grab a wrist. The grip was tight, desperate, as she guided your hand to return. “… don’t go.” Something she hoped was anything other than pity flashed across your gaze, “Cait…” you began, your other hand returning to her other cheekbone as the ministrations restarted. “I said, don’t go”, her tone firmer, slightly more certain of her deserving this time, so you shuffled closer. Your forehead against hers again, “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.” “I’m sorry.” “You have nothing to be sorry for, you’re… there’s a lot on your plate right now.” Cait knew what word you’d intended to say. Mourning. It was true, it was evidently very real, and very raw but to hear it… to label it, to recognise it… she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face it yet - each time you had said it before causing her to deflate slightly - and yet it was an inescapable plague. She was mourning her mother, mourning the fact the chance she’d been hunting, waiting, praying for had been stolen… mourning herself, mourning Vi. It felt as if all she did was mourn. She hated it. “… I left Vi… to find her own way.” “… She can look after herself-” “I… I hurt her.” Your thumbs paused once more, your mind suddenly remembering her lingering hold on your wrist. That hardly sounded like Cait at all. “… Not seriously but…” her voice retreated to a whisper tinged with regret, “I wish I hadn’t.” “… She’ll understand.” Her face pushed deeper into your hand, her gaze falling from your eyes to your temple in a subtle aversion of eye contact. “You should have seen how she looked at me…” She almost sounded close to tears, “I…” It felt strange to open up about Vi with you. She did well in hiding it from you but Caitlyn’s feelings were…more confusing than she would admit. It was a matter of twisted luck in actual fact - the faint and rare gestures of affection you had seen were easily attributed to the fact that the pair were almost trauma bonded. “I just… how could she?” Her brows twitched, gaze stealing a quick glance into your own. How could she, how dare she, feel so important that Caitlyn’s anger splintered into herself? As she would come to learn, a blade cuts both ways. Her grip on your wrist had loosened by now, the inevitability of her exhaustion catching up. Even without the knowledge of the double-edged nature of her question, you did not know how to reply and a calm quiet blanketed the room. A chance for Cait to defocus, or at least try to.

The rest of the world at a standstill with you together, time blurred - protected by the curtains. At some point, maybe minutes, maybe hours later, Caitlyn relaxed properly into your embrace.

[alphajocklover]

Commissions, Rules, Story Index and Other Information ————

Commissions Information

I only have 5 slots at a time, but that may expand even more one day. I charge 1 cent per word. Below is a link to my ‘commissions page’ (it’s a google doc) with all the details, including a list of what I won’t do, what I definitely will do, and how to contact me. If you’re interested, please DM me and let me know!

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Firstly this is a Jockification blog. It’s mainly about turning nerds into alpha male jocks. That doesn’t mean I won’t do other transformations or go into other kinks. I’ve already done some slightly different things like the macro tf and the Muscle daddy tf stories, both of which I loved writing. But most of this stuff is going to be jock tfs. Just wanted to make that clear.

Now, onto what I absolutely will not do. These are off limits, and I’ll explain why too. I’m not here to kinkshame or anything but I write these stories for fun, and if I’m not into something then it’s so much harder to write about.

Anything that’s not 18+. I know this is a very controversial topic, and I want to be clear. I do not have issues with age play (although personally I don’t love to write about that stuff either). As long as there are no actual children involved in the making of an erotic piece of fiction, or you are encouraging people to actually do horrible things to kids, you can write whatever you want. But since it’s so controversial, and it is way too easy to write something that makes light of a traumatic experience, I would rather avoid that all together.

Rape. Once again I am not going to kink shame anyone. A lot of people have a rape kink, and that’s perfectly normal. As long as all parties are consenting and of age irl, you can do whatever you want in the bedroom. But once again it is incredibly easy to write something that offends and hurts people, and on a personal note I just don’t feel comfortable writing something like that. I’m not gonna claim that everything I write, with all the reality bending and changing identities, is perfectly consensual, but there’s a big difference between writing about impossible magic powers and writing about realistic rape, and I don’t feel comfortable crossing that line.

Beastiality and Animals. Once again not going to kink shame anyone. And I want to stress I’m not talking about furrys or pup play or whatever. I’m talking about actual beastiality. You can write and read whatever you want as long as it’s not hurting people, but as far as I’m concerned animals can’t consent, so I won’t be writing anything with them in it. I’m also not entirely comfortable with human to animals tfs. Those are just not my thing.

Bathroom stuff and Smegma. This one is less complicated. I just don’t write this kink because I don’t like it. Watersports and scat and smegma all do nothing for me. Just a personal preference.

Real person Fiction. Once again it’s nothing personal. Plenty of people love real person fiction. I just feel so awkward writing about real live people. So I avoid it. Fanfiction about characters is another story.

Inanimate and Body part TF. I don’t really understand why, but these types of transformations make me uncomfortable. Really it’s just my preference.

Entirely Female Focused TFs: I am a gay man, and have a harder time writing erotic stories about women. While I can write about straight sex and women, I prefer to keep men as the focus, or at least have them heavily involved.

Gender TFs: I know this will probably upset some people, but I’ve personally just never enjoyed gender change tfs. Perhaps I will experiment with it one day, but not now.

Racial Slurs: While I do like raceplay and racial changes, I will not include slurs I cannot reclaim in my work. 

That’s all there is for my big limits. If theres anything else you’re unsure of and want to check, just DM me. I won’t judge, the worst I’ll do is say no. I hope all this serious talk didn’t upset anyone. More stories coming soon!

Will update as needed!

Just a reminder that I am up for story suggestions, questions, and DMs. I especially want story prompts because I’d love the opportunity to make more stories for you guys. I’m also open for trades if anyone is interested

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Blogger Backup

My Blogger Blog, where I backup all of my stories, can be found here.

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Story Index

Below is a list of my bigger stories and ongoing series. I'll be doing this chronologically, and adding to it periodically! I'll be listing some kinks that are controversial or unusual for my blog next to each story they are in. I won't be marked G2S because I use that a lot. I hope this helps you guys get around my page better!

SuperNova TFs | A person makes a wish on a SuperNova

Older Brothers (My first story!) (involves incest)

Unmoved (involves bisexual sex)

Stereotypical

Professor to Frat Bro

Supernova Comedian (Political Play)

End of the World (100th Story Special!)

Wake Up | The true self awakens, and spreads

Wake up Bro

Wake up Pops

Marvel TFs | TFs themed around Marvel Characters. Not all connected

No longer a Spider, finally a Man (Implied relationship between a student and teacher)

Possessed by the Power of Thor (Giantism)

Like the Hulk

Like Wolverine

InstaJock TFs | A mysterious app that jockifies users.

InstaJock Introduction

InstaJock: A Small Glitch

InstaJock: On The Go

InstaJock: Details and Settings (Race TF, Asian)

InstaJock: Payback

Revert Mind

InstaJock: Preview

InstaJock: Research and Frats

InstaJock: Tricking a Thief

InstaJock: Regional

InstaJock: Secondhand

InstaJock: Girls

AlphaJock?!

InstaJock: Boyfriends

InstaJock: Double Friend Request (Race TF, Asian)

InstaJock: Sexuality

InstaJock: The Master and Mysteries

Alpha with a Capital A | A look into literal Alphas

Alpha with a Capital A intro

Alpha with a Capital A: Sexuality

Alpha with a Capital A: Alphas and Gender (Transgender Character and physical gender transition)

Gay Couple to Straight Beta Bros

Greaser Alpha

Alpha with a Capital A: Big bro and Lil bro

Asian Alpha Bro

Jock Studies | Coaches and their brainwashed Jocks

Jock Studies: Swimming Coach

Straight to Gay

The role of Coaches

Assistant Coaches and Baseball

Eye of Beholder (EB) Jewelry | Jewelry Company with a secret

Engaged

Science Teacher to Football Coach

EB Jewelry: New CEO

EB Jewelry: The New COO

AirBFnBF

EB Jewelry: My Friend and Gauges

EB Jewelry: Dog Tags and Brothers

The Best Club in Town | Gay clubs and their members are turned straight

The Best Club in Town

The Douchebag Revolution | Time traveling fight over your right to be a straight douche

Welcome to the Revolution

Douche Rehab

1,000 Follower Special, The Douchebag Revolution Begins

The Hometown Hex | The town where everyone is a jock. Everyone

The Hometown Hex

Baxter Beach

500 Followers Special: Wally's Visit

Made for This Town

The Hometown Hex: Exports

BDE: Big Dick Energy | Literal BDE causes changes

An intro to BDE

BDE: How it Works

BDE: Extreme Buildup and Infection

Retsam Mirror | Swapped with your selection. By force

Retsam Mirror

Trapped

My Uncle | Lore on my character, and his journey to save his Uncle

My Uncle

My Uncle: A Follow Up

Nick the Devil | A friend (Boyfriend) of my characters Uncle, whose a literal Devil

Nick the Devil

The Church | Evil Church converts people into new member

The Church (Semi-religious themes)

Potions Set | I gave an Actor a bunch of potions. I hope it works out...

Getting the Role

Camous | Those who change to fit in

Camous

The Master | The Man behind InstaJock and my Uncles Transformation. The Big Bad.

InstaJock: Going Viral (@occamstfs Occams 2000 challenge entry)

The Drunken Chameleon | A TF Bar

The Perfect Bar for You

Halloween TFs | Halloween themed transformations! Returns every October!

Personal Transformations | Transformations my character performs | references other stories

Miscellaneous Stories | Stories without a series or common theme

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I hope you guys like this! It took a lot of work putting this index together. If you have any questions or ideas, or just want to, dm me! Total stories: 102

[konigsblog]

need more femcel!recruit and rapist!simon

femcel!reader x rapist!simon riley thots™

tw/cw; rape fantasy/cnc, dark fiction and fantasy, brutal sex, dom!ghost, sub!reader, handcuffs, sexism/misogyny, ‘pick me girl’!reader. 18+

synopsis; simon riley ignores your safe word during sex after you pestered him for weeks.

after finally convincing simon riley to use your body, you became addicted. you couldn't stop thinking about his brutal and merciless pace, the way he forced his meaty cock into you without preparation. you masturbated constantly, fantasising about being raped in your sleep by your lieutenant, putting yourself down to appeal to him.

other women on base didn't like you whatsoever, not your presence or your ridiculous mentality. you were misogynistic and sexist towards your own gender, smiling when a soldier would smack your ass. “attagirl, that's right; know your place.” women gave you dirty looks, hoping you would feel ashamed of yourself. they would judge and shame you for being so desperate for attention and validation. it was pathetic to most, if not to all, that you would put down other women to appeal to men.

after you had said something controversial one evening, simon pulled you into his office, furious at your behaviour. you gave simon a bad reputation on base. you clung to him, needy for his touch and attention, pleading to finally be taken advantage of. if you weren't going to stop until you got your fill, then he would just have to get it over and down with.

he pushed you down against his desk, your hand pinned behind your back with cold handcuffs digging into your skin. you sucked in a sharp breath as he began to unfasten his belt, pulling down your military-issued trousers, with simon's voice in your ear degrading you for depraved. your depravity was laughable, and simon would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy fucking your pretty body, having complete and utter control over you. you weeped pathetically when simon spanked you, sliding inside your tight asshole to finally fulfil that dark fantasy of yours.

he wasn't gentle, he wanted you to make sure you knew what he was capable of. each thrust knocked the wind from your lungs, your breathing heavy and your body weak and limp. god, you didn't realise how unforgiving he would be, ruthless and relentless, slamming into your body carelessly. simon's thrusts caused you to choke on your pleas, your body aching and in need of a break, not sure if you really wanted this after all.

despite your cries for simon to stop, he wouldn't let up. perhaps he didn't realise you were actually uncomfortable and that this wasn't part of the act, or maybe he just enjoyed putting all his power and strength onto your bound body, to make sure that you know what you're getting yourself into. you wanted no more, but regardless, you were forced to take every inch despite the tears running down your cheeks.

[senshis-top-surgery]

It's me again, back with the Gender Analysis

I wonder if this will be controversial. I hope not.

But, probably, because even with the wonderful additions of @cloverandcrossbones to the ElfShi mannerisms post, people are still misinterpreting Senshi. People are calling him a twink? A femboy?

I'm going to look at various character's clothing, both in setting and in the daydream hour modern setting. I'm going to be using words like "feminine" and "masculine" but please bear in mind, I am going off what is seen as "typical" or "expected" - that is to say, what would not be punished or criticised by average society. I am not saying anything is inherently one or the other, bevause I don't believe anything can be inherently feminine or masculine, since those are terms made up to describe things. Like how something can't be inherently romantic. We assign these things.

Okay, that said, let's begin.

Let's look first, at two other Dwarves

Daya and Namari

We see them here, wearing what is presumably typical clothing for dwarf women. So let's take this as "Feminie Standard" for Dwarves

Here are some more outfits

Now we see a distinction between Daya and Namari. Daya's dress is now much more feminine, covering knees, while Namari's dress is still in Feminine Standard, but with slightly less frills. I would say Daya here is High Femme for Dwarves and Namari is just Average.

This is confirmed when we see them in modern clothes

Daya is wearing the cutest sundress, and even holds herself in a more delicate, feminine way. Whereas Namari is pretty neutral. Nothing particularly feminine or masculine. This may dissappoint some people, but I don't think Namari is that butch. She's certainly on the 'butch'er end of the lady spectrum, but she's not giving dedicated butch to me. More sort of, low effort comfy lady vibes.

I would say that both Namari and Daya are comfortable presenting as, and being seen as, women.

Okay, now we're going to look at Senshi

Senshi and Namari's armour is basically identical, except Senshi opts for a tits out look, probably because he's not actively combating as much as Namari.

Senshi having his chest out is not unusual for dwarf men, nor is covering the chest. Seems like dwarf men are similar to modern day human men. I'm jealous.

So, Senshi's armour is pretty much Masculine Standard. Or perhaps Dward Standard. But it doesn't give us much information on how he chooses to present.

For that info, we need to look at modern clothing Senshi

A Hawaiin (?) shirt and a dress shirt with a tie. A tie! For sitting on the couch with friends. Everyone else is dressed casual and Senshi chose to wear a tie. Even if he just came from work, he has not loosened it.

Look how nice his hair is! He's taking care of his looks. He cares about his appearance. The tie is a choice.

Now, I dunno about you, but this level of care is not Masculine Standard to me. Its like, Masculine+. He's not doing it like Namari, but he's also not over performing Masculinity. I'm calling it Masculine+. What it certainly is NOT is feminine. He also has the same body type. Because you can't change your body type (well, not easily).

Senshi is a bear. 'Bear' within the gay community refers to the body type of fat, hairy men. It is not in reference to behaviour. Same, I believe, is true of twink. Bears can be effeminate in their behaviour. As has been artfully illustrated in the previously mentioned post, Senshi acts effeminately. That's his behaviour. It's a part of his presentation but, it is not about his appearance.

Senshi is an effeminate bear. He's big, he's hairy, he cares about how he looks, he likes to dress masculine, and he likes to act feminine. He's still seems comfortable presenting as, and being seen as, a man.

This is what I personally mean by Genderqueer. Where you're not all the way within the expectations of society. He isn't acting the way a dwarf man is expected to act. He dresses the way a dwarf man expects to be dressed. He's doing Things with his Gender. Things that would make average society go "hmm...bad...".

This is long, so I may do a separate post for analysing Marcille and Falin. But that's my take on Dwarves.

This is of course in no way saying you can't headcanon! Or draw dress up! I love that shit. I just also feel strongly about acknowledging what IS and ISN'T in the source material.

[myfairstarlight]

Alright, let's talk about Colin's entrapment line and why Penelope offering an annulment was significant, shall we? Arguably the most controversial part of this season, isn't it?

I'm not going to delve too long on the entrapment line again actually, but to summarise, Colin has been traumatised by a similar situation before, and right now, he's hurt. And the thing about being angry with your best friend is that you know what to say to hurt them the most. We see it in Eloise's and Penelope's fight, as they threw each other's insecurities in the other's faces. Colin, two episodes ago, was defending Penelope against Portia, who was accusing her of entrapping him, so yes, his mind will jump to that first. But also note that the whole time he refuses to look at her, because he knows his words are cutting and will hurt and he knows his resolve would break if he looked at her, which is contrasted by Penelope directly looking at him to tell him she loves him and did not mean for this to happen like this. He does not look because he knows she loves him, this is not Marina's situation exactly who only wanted a way out and did not see him as much else than a means to an end, and that's why it's so much more difficult to deal with for him. Penelope loves him.

And he's already almost lost her once, as angry and hurt as he is, he cannot fathom the idea of letting her go, when he remembers how empty he felt without her letters, or at the idea of her with Debling. So he's still here, determined to marry her.

So now we get to e8. The marriage was not technically consummated, and the Lady Whistledown business is finally settled. So Penelope offers the annulment, to set him, and his family, free from her mess.

They never directly address Colin's entrapment comment again, but with Penelope offering the annulment, it is now implied she's been thinking about this the whole time. It is a very real possibility that by that point, Penelope already knew she was pregnant, and it's been speculated if she told Colin in that scene after Francesca's wedding or not (I personally don't think she did, to not add to his guilt at that moment, and perhaps to not influence his decision, knowing she would be offering the annulment soon) and it parallels Marina's situation again, except in this case, Penelope does not wish to trap Colin with a baby, even if it is his. She knows how much Marina impacted Colin, and does not wish to do the same thing she had prevented Marina to do. The best part about this though? Colin is stunned (Edit: I changed the adjective here as someone rightfully pointed out I was exaggerating by saying "flabbergasted" when his reaction is more on the subtle side the English language is the bane of my existence). Frankly, he probably forgot he even said that, the same way he forgot about his "I would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington" comment - those were words said in the heat of the moment he never actually believed. Not once has Colin thought of either breaking the engagement, or get an annulment even after the betrayal.

He could have still eloped with Marina even after learning the truth, but he didn't because she was not honest with him from the start. He learns Penelope has been living a double life this whole time, and yet he stays.

It is significant that Penelope listened and acknowledged Colin's point of view, the same way she asked him to simply stand by her side and support her. Also note that she never says "our family", she says "you or your family".

Despite already being married, this whole time, it did not feel like they were, and she knew that as long as there was still this barrier between them, she could never truly be part of that family, but it's alright, she could live with that, she has mended things with her own after all, and she can support herself. Whatever the outcome, she'll be alright, she believes.

Fortunately for her, she does not get to find out what that future would entail because Colin absolutely hates the idea of letting her go.

Because after all, she's a mess, but she's his mess.

[yoursweetwife]

Synopsis: A look at your relationship with Ratio from the outside.

Warning: female reader, fluff, bad English. If you like my content, you can leave a request! I write for all hsr characters

Veritas Ratio.

Just the mention of this name made people tremble with fear and excitement. A genius who hides his face behind a plaster mask, he will make a person feel insignificant only after a couple of words. Despite this, he was respected by students and other professors, but the problem is that Dr. Ratio himself respected practically no one. Practically.

You are a promising scientist striving to improve the world through your inventions and discoveries. Many said that you were destined to become part of a society of geniuses, some of whom you even knew and had the honor of working with, but all you wanted was to share your knowledge with others. Perhaps this is what attracted Ratio to you. Your passion and desire.

Everyone was shocked when they saw that you and the local single professor started spending a lot of time together, especially after the unsuccessful first meeting. Your clumsiness and shyness led to you spilling some liquid on him. His judgmental gaze made you cry. No one knows what happened after that, but some claimed that they saw Ratio enter your office.

Fortunately, after many years of work, you opened up and became the right person to talk to about all your problems. However, your relationship with Dr. Ratio did not remain at the same level. If his attitude towards you had to be described in one word, everyone would say “protection”. He was seen more than once scolding you for your clumsiness, especially when it came to experiments. If there was an explosion in your laboratory, then after a couple of seconds Ratio would run in and start lecturing you, while at the same time treating the wounds on your face.

Or those moments when you were invited on dates. Although you refused, everyone could see how his behavior had changed, and if at that moment someone approached him with a question, they could even experience his anger on themselves. However, this did not apply to you, on the contrary, your innocent “did something happen?” made him cool down, although his voice was just as cold. Ratio trusted you so much that he even let you make him coffee! Although before your arrival he categorically refused to accept coffee from someone else’s hands.

Students who come to Ratio after classes are over (because he very often bullies poor students and they need to ask for extra assignments) often find you there together, excitedly discussing something. Moreover, Professor Ratio's plaster head is missing, which is not undesirable, given his beauty, but shocking. Unfortunately, as soon as they are noticed, the plaster head again takes its rightful place, and Ratio's sharp voice speaks and goes inside.

Each such situation gives rise to a lot of controversy and rumors. Someone says that you are friends, someone says that you are a couple, but no one can say which is true.

You are not against all this, like Ratio himself, although it infuriates him that each of these fools wants to get into your life.

At least it's nice to fall asleep to his complaints while you both relax in a warm bath.

[melrosing]

What do you think of the Sansa bullied Arya take if you don’t mind me asking (just don’t answer if you don’t want to haha)

per my usual practice on Controversial Topics im putting this under a cut

At the real risk of that lot showing up in my notes again, I think this ‘Sansa bullies Arya’ pins their pre AGOT dynamic squarely on Sansa herself, rather than the way they are both being raised by the adults around them to behave towards one another. Sure, Sansa is mean to Arya sometimes during their childhood! We don’t have a lot of examples besides the oft-mentioned ‘horseface’ insults, but I think it’s fair to assume that more often than not, Sansa was looking down on Arya. Meanwhile, Arya herself feels inadequate and like she just can’t do anything right. She resents Sansa, but also worries that Sansa’s opinion of her may be true.

Fine. But where has Sansa’s opinion of Arya come from? Is it her cold black heart? Fucking no, it’s come from Septa Mordane, Catelyn, and whoever else surrounds them growing up. The men don’t seem to really give much of a shit how Arya acts because it’s not their business and she’s just a kid anyhow, but the women pointedly give many shits. In our first scene with Arya, Septa Mordane scolds her for not being good at ‘women’s work’, and there’s plenty to suggest that this is just another day in the life for Arya. Meanwhile, Sansa gets the carrot for excelling. Both Arya and Sansa are learning their own worth in this chapter, and the worth of one another. Sansa internalises the praise whilst learning that Arya is bad, and everything she mustn’t be. Arya internalises the criticisms whilst learning that Sansa is good, and everything she can never be.

They’ll be getting this from Catelyn as well. Catelyn clearly adores both her daughters, and will move heaven and earth to get them back in ACOK. But one good adjective for Catelyn is ‘dutiful’ - it’s in her house words, and it’s how she’s lived her life up to AGOT. Doing as she’s told, even when it pains her. She expects the same of her daughters, and finds those expectations satisfied in Sansa’s case, and apparently flouted in Arya’s. So again, from their own mother, Sansa internalises that Arya is bad, and that she, Sansa, is good. Arya internalises the same. If societal standards were reversed, perhaps it would be Arya lording over Sansa, but such as it is, it’s Sansa over Arya. 

Now, Sansa is a child. When children are told over and over that X is good and Y is bad, they generally don’t question it, at least until they're older and more experienced in the world. They will also parrot what they hear, often in graceless ways. Because they’re children. Sansa is told that Arya wilfully misbehaves because she’s bad, and so Sansa thinks: then I should look down on Arya. It sounds like Sansa mostly keeps her distance from her sister pre AGOT. Not always - they play together sometimes - but a lot of the time. She has internalised the teaching that Arya is an aberration, and as she herself knows the adults value obedience in girls, and she wants to please them so badly, the distance between her and Arya demonstrates to them just how good she is - she won’t descend to Arya’s behaviour. 

When Sansa does interact with Arya (pre Darry), we see her being a bit bossy - telling Arya what to do, etc. Sansa is replicating what she has seen the adults do with Arya, and is mimicking them to assert her own position as the good, obedient child. If Arya ever doesn’t want to do something, it can only be because she’s bad. 

[sidenote, it all really reminds me of these short stories me and my sister used to get read a lot as kids, called My Naughty Little Sister (lmao) by Dorothy Edwards. They're pretty old and I don’t think they ever got major circulation outside Britain, but for anyone unfamiliar, you can probably guess how these stories go. There’s an elder sister, good and obedient, who narrates short tales of her ‘naughty little sister’ doing terrible things like idk, making a terrible mess etc, and going ‘now I’m sure you [the child audience] wouldn’t do a thing like that!’ They’re supposed to be short morality tales for the children, and amuse the parent reading them aloud, who recognises the mischievous behaviour of the younger and is charmed by the haughtiness of the elder sister, who you can hear is narrating the incidents of her sister’s mischief with the disdain that she’s heard the adults do so, and is asserting her own good behaviour over said sister. And the whole fucking reason we were read these stories was because my younger sister was precisely the kind of kid who got up to all kinds of shit as a little kid (which now all of us find hilarious but DIDN’T AT THE TIME), and I was the elder sister like ‘my goodness how could she do such things as these!!’ (e.g. paint an entire bookcase with grout). It amused us both to see ourselves in the stories. You could say this was life imitating art, but I think this is simply an age old dynamic, familiar to many people with siblings: you would see how the adults spoke to another child in your family, and replicate their manner in an effort to come across as an adult. Except you weren’t an adult, so you weren’t always as graceful about it as they were. That is pre AGOT Sansa, to a T. And I’m sure that’s what GRRM, a child of three who had two sisters of his own, is replicating here.]

But I think there’s also a loneliness in being the ‘obedient child’. Doing as you’re told all the time can be boring, and living up to expectations is a lot of pressure. Sansa wants a companion in all that, but Arya has no interest in sharing in it. Arya is offering friendship, but from a place Sansa believes she can’t reach her sister - Sansa thinks she’d have to ‘descend to Arya’s level’ to accept it, and she can’t do that. You get a sense of Sansa thrilling in trying Arya’s ‘misbehaviours’ for herself when she quietly delights in behaving ‘as wicked as Arya’, but you see in this that she has to condemn such behaviours and herself for exhibiting them, all in the same breath. And in the end, I can easily imagine Sansa resents that Arya has more fun with their brothers than she ever does with Sansa herself: that the one sister she has is one she has nothing in common with. Sansa can’t find a like mind amongst her siblings, and so clings to Jeyne Poole, and the praise of the adults around her.

So with all that in mind, YES! Sansa is sometimes mean to Arya, and calls her horseface. That is because Sansa is a child, nobody is correcting her behaviour, and she understands that Arya is bad, and the way she behaves is frustrating to Sansa herself, so really what does it matter if she’s a little mean sometimes? She knows that she is good, because everyone says so. Even if she calls her sister a name now and then, she’s still the good child. 

AND THEN we get to Darry. And Sansa starts to see that society isn’t a song, and sometimes it doesn’t matter how good you are, horrible things can happen to you anyway. But she doesn’t want to believe that, because it would turn her world upside down, and her future would look a lot darker, too - Ned has not ended her engagement to Joffrey, and Sansa has to live for the foreseeable in KL. So when Arya doing the thing she ‘wasn’t supposed to’ (playing with Mycah) snowballs into a terrible miscarriage of justice where Sansa’s wolf is killed, Sansa rejects the notion that the songs could be wrong about beautiful princes, and shifts the blame onto Arya for that original 'misdemeanour'. The grief at losing Lady is terrible too (the wolves are meant to have a soul deep bond with the Stark children), and so the target of that grief likewise becomes Arya. What was previously a normal, childishly complicated sibling relationship gets twisted into something else.

This is where I think Sansa becomes different level of unpleasant towards her sister. She’s cruel about Arya’s loss of Mycah, tells Arya she wishes she were dead instead of Lady, etc etc. Arya is not giving as good as she gets here - she even tries to make amends with Sansa, but Sansa throws the offer in her face.

The reasons for Sansa’s behaviour are complicated, but not that complicated. She’s been raised to slot perfectly into this world, without ever being told what that world is really like. And when abruptly it turns out that what she’s being raised for is essentially the slaughter, she rejects it. She can’t see Joffrey as he truly is: she’s been told that princes are charming, that Kings are just, Queens are kind, and she herself will be a Queen. Sansa is going to be handed over to the Lannisters, and she’s going to live the song of her dreams, and the only thing between Sansa and the realisation of those is the thing that’s always been wrong: Bad Arya. Because again, if Arya isn't bad, then everything else is, and Sansa is in terrible danger.

No one is sitting Sansa down and explaining to her that Arya is not bad, just different from her, and that they should love one another - that there are dark forces here far stronger than them that could tear them apart, that the Lannisters are the greatest of them, and they have to fight together, not each other. Arya gets this talk, funnily enough, but not Sansa. Arya is asked to understand that Sansa is different from her, but Sansa is only ever taught to abhor that her sister as different from her. Where Arya is told to be wary of the court of King’s Landing, Ned leaves Sansa to continue her fantasies, and then, when he abruptly tries to put an end to them, he doesn’t bother to explain why. I’m not saying this is unforgivable on Ned’s part - he has a lot on his mind lol - but it’s quite obviously a major failing. Ned leaves Sansa in a fantasy world. It’s fucking Joffrey who has to step in and clarify for Sansa that actually, she’s been dreaming.

So as long as they’re together, Sansa is never able to come to terms with the fact that Arya was not the aberration, but rather, everything else was. In the absence of one another, they cannot reconcile over that fact. So yes, GRRM says they’ll have deep issues to sort through when they meet again, but those aren’t going to be the times that Sansa called her ‘horseface’ - they’re going to be about what happened since they left Winterfell, when their relationship was twisted by forces much darker than Septa Mordane. 

So no, I think the ‘Sansa is a bully’ diatribes are seriously tedious, because even if you want to insist that calling your sister ‘horseface’ a few times even qualifies, you can still accept such wrongs without deciding that that makes Sansa a fundamentally unkind person who cannot be reconciled with Arya and doesn’t deserve to be. It is on the page that the two of them miss each other. Like I genuinely cannot imagine going through everything Arya does in the story and then, upon reuniting with a sister I thought lost forever, deciding I’m actually still mad about the things she got wrong as a child that she herself has paid dearly for, both physically and emotionally. Like jesus fucking christ man. By all means let them talk about it!! But who do you think Arya is lmao

Tl;dr: Sansa is a kid in a society. She is not the arbiter of Arya’s place in society. She is not mean because she’s cruel, but because she has internalised the exact same things that Arya has, based on the example of the adults surrounding them. It just happens that those things were a carrot for Sansa and a stick for Arya. But then in the end, they weren’t a carrot for Sansa either.

tl;dr 2: clarifying once again - i am a jaime stan. i find the stark sister relationship interesting bc I have experience of a similar sisterly dynamic and find it interesting to see a version of that explored on the page. so if you think one has to be a sansa stan to observe all this then that kind of just demonstrates how dichotomous you've become on this issue lol like if I'm talking about takes I dislike re JB I don't generally feel the need to attribute them to JC fandom. let's all grow up x

tl;dr 3: no i don't hate sansa or arya, since i know these are both conclusions various people reach whenever i even mention these two. in fact i think they are both great girls! imagine

[evolnoomym]

Secrets and Lies 🌜

Gilf!Joel Miller, Dilf!Jack Miller x f!reader

Pt.1🌛 | Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Summary: The filthy Adventures continue, but now Jack joins the fun. Together they make your dream of taking them at the same time come true. But what about James?

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 4.5k

Authors note: Finally we got the long awaited Part 2. I hope y’all enjoy cuz I put a lot of energy into this and yes it’s filthy so don’t look at me. 👀🤭

Warnings: no y/n, female reader, Moon is not a name necessarily but more a nickname, age-gap, controversial age gap, cheating, infidelity, unethical I guess, Joel doesn’t need blue pills, 2 other male OC’s, Joel=Grandpa Jack=Son James=Grandson, Moon has tits and a vagina, hair pulling, male receiving oral, female receiving oral, use of a butt plug, ass eating, fingering, deep throating, cream pie’s, fluff in between, nipple licking & biting, anal and vaginal penetration, dp, sucking+biting, Moon bites too, dildo use, lotsssssss of lube, ambiguous ending,

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Shoutout to @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics for the dividers and big thank you to @joelmillerisapunk & @jennaispunk for beta reading. <3

Credit for the Gilf!Joel Pic in the Moodboard goes to @iamasaddie 😈

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. 😅🫶🏻

🌜Songs that are the vibe🌛:

Crush - Ethel Cain

Love Is a Bitch - Two Feet

Guys My Age - Hey Violet

You Don’t Own Me - SAYGRACE, G-Eazy

Moth To A Flame - The Weeknd

BITCH - Allie X

Oh Child - The LION

Let Me Love You - Mario

I’m Yours - Isabel LaRosa

Love Game - Lady Gaga

BABYDOLL - Ari Abdul

Les - Childish Gambino

After Jack had walked in on you and Joel, not a whole lot changed. In fact it seemed to only have gotten better for you. Who in their right mind would say no to two absolute hunks. Admittedly Joel had caught your eye first, but it was not undeniable that Jack was just as hot. Both are older men, mature, dominating and they know exactly how to treat a woman right. That dumbass of a boyfriend could never compare. James didn’t care about you, he was only focused on his own pleasure, but you know how pathetically he likes to brag about what a wonderful boyfriend he is. Perhaps you are not entitled to complain, you had cheated first, you are not good either but it’s worth it.

Every weekend the Millers have a family dinner, which of course being James girlfriend, you also get to attend those functions.

You are out on the back porch that oversees Joel’s beautiful lush garden, standing right by the railing, sipping on the aperol spritz that Jack had prepared for you. While the bitter sweet liquid easily goes down your throat, you watch James sit on a lounger by the pool, animatedly talking into his phone. Always busy talking to his bro’s.

As you frown into your drink you hear the glass doors slide open behind you. Picking up on their gruff, deep yet calming tone makes you immediately care less about the disappointment of another evening practically being ignored by your boyfriend.

Your frown turns into a smirk when they each come to a stop beside you and you can feel their eyes on the sides of your face.

They are equally accessing you, while you silently continue to sip on your beverage.

It’s funny, you are convinced that even if James would pay attention. Really look at you, he wouldn’t realize how not only his Father but also his Grandfather are undressing his Girlfriend with their eyes.

He is that dumb.

Joel is the one to break the peaceful quiet atmosphere. “Talkin’ to his goddamn buddies again, isn’t he?” A shiver runs up your spine from hearing his deep baritone so clear and close.

You scoff “Isn’t that what always happens, what did we expect, huh?”

Closing your eyes momentarily, you inhale deeply before continuing “But it’s not like I don’t have way better company, right?” You turn to Joel and then to Jack giving them both the smile they love seeing on your face.

“S’ right baby, you are in good hands.” Jack muses.

You look ahead smugly giggling.

“Why don’t you prove it?” It’s a challenge, would they dare to touch you when James is not far away. The flowy short skirt you decided to wear gave them the perfect opportunity and sure enough it didn’t take much longer before you felt two big warm hands slowly sliding down your back.

The sensation made your breath hitch and your mouth went dry, making you throw back the last bit of Aperol Spritz. Those big wandering hands made you feel incredibly flustered, you are pretty sure you must look like a tomato, all flushed. You could easily blame it on the unrelenting heat or the alcohol coursing through your body.

Both hands slipped past your skirt's hem, gently touching the back of your thighs and when they slide back up pulling the hem with them. One hand carefully stuffed the hem into the waistband of the skirt to secure it and you looked down at yourself to make sure the front looked unaffected.

Their hands are groping and kneading your ass cheeks so deliciously, it’s impossible to not get wet from their ministrations. Of course they can tell you struggle to keep your arousal concealed, your clenched thighs, elevated breathing, tense jaw and iron grip on the railing are already enough indication.

Either they had this situation all planned out or they are just truly that good at silently communicating. Without a saying a word, one hand move to pull your thong aside, while the other one sweeps through your moist folds, collecting a decent amount before pulling away.

Said hand which you now figure out belongs to Jack is held right in front of your face. You can smell the sweet-salty musk of your own juices on his fingers.

“Look at that baby, she’s messy, drooling all for us, ain’t she?” Your head turns to Jack, you are met with a questioning head tilt and a big smirk adorning his face. Whenever you look at them you ask yourself how you got so lucky. Jack, just like his Father, is insanely stunning. Fluffy dark brown hair, blue-grey eyes, a strong painted nose, his 3-day beard and those lips you loved feeling on your own.

It’s obvious that they enjoy playing with you.

“Go ahead Moon Love, say it, who does that little cunt belong to, huh?” He nods at you encouragingly.

“S.s..she he belongs to you” you nod stammering through the everlasting throbbing of your core.

“ ‘s a good girl, god job darlin’” Joel’s voice has your head whipping around to him. You can’t help yourself from smiling at his handsome face. Even though he’s 60 years old, you can’t deny how incredible attractive he is. His grey-white slicked back hair, the slight wrinkles around his eyes from smiling and that goddamn mustache have you wake in the knees. He’s a masterpiece.

You feel light headed, like floating, all from being sandwiched between them.

The three of you are swiftly pulled from the cloud y’all had been on by the sound of someone approaching.

Joel quickly slides your thong and skirt back in place, while Jack sucks on his fingers that had just been between your thighs. The obscene slurping noises made it hard to focus on James that suddenly decided he wanted to be part of the conversation.

You meet him halfway up the porch and he immediately slides his arms around your waist, pulling you close to his chest.

“What are we talking about,hm? Did Moon talk y’all’s ears off too about her new plant. Had that on the ride here.” He scoffs but tries to make it appear jokingly, when everyone already knows he is just being a condescending asshole for no reason.

“Nah was all us borin’ the pretty thing with our baseball nonsense, wasn’t it Jack?” Your heart soars at the way Joel perhaps not super subtly comforts you. He despises his Grandson for being such an inconsiderate boy.

When James acts like this, you feel less and less bad about what happens in secret and all the lies you tell him.

Whenever you leave for Joel’s residence you tell your boyfriend you just want to catch up with your old friends and like the idiot that James is, he assumes you’re going to Sammy’s. You met her when you went to school to become a Kindergarten Teacher, she lives a couple hours away, that fact leaves you with enough time to spend playing with your two favorite Men in the world.

Every week, usually once, sometimes twice when the desperate need to feel their hands on your body takes over you meet up with them. In the beginning Jack was not allowed to participate, no, he could only watch from his seat how his Father defiled that sweet young girl. As much as Joel wanted to share, he struggled letting someone else have a piece of the cake, you were his precious Angel after all.

It felt so good when Joel let him eat you out for the first time and judging the iron grip Jack had on your hips, he seemed to be very excited as well. Unrelentingly lapping at your core until you came on his tongue screaming his name.

The frustrating part was that they never worked on you at the same time, which something you wanted so badly, so Joel offered to get you there.

That’s how you ended up bent over, with your knees planted on his Lazy-Boy, you were facing away from him leaning on the headrest.

“Moon Love, i know ya want to get these slutty holes filled,” he said while dragging his pointer finger down your drooling pussy and circling your puckered asshole “But I gotta prep ya for that first, can’t jus’ take the both of us without any training,hm?”

You know he’s right, they would probably hurt you if the preparation gets skipped, besides who said that couldn’t also bring you pleasure.

“Yes, I’m sorry, you are right Daddy. How will you do it?” You look over your shoulder back at him kneeling between your spread thighs, you really want to know what he had planned.

“Atta girl,” as he rose to his full height he clasped both cheeks roughly giving them a generous squeeze and pulling them apart to get another clear look at your tight hole.

“Jus’ wait a second baby, I’ve got somethin’ for ya,” with that he lets go of you.

The air shifted and you felt another pair of calloused warm hands on your plush behind, just barely grazing you in passing. After rounding you, Jack came to a halt before you and even when kneeling on the Lazy-Boy the crown of your head barely reached his chin.

“What do you think he will do to me?”

You are nervously chewing on your bottom lip and Jack reaches up with two fingers to pull it free. With the same two fingers he cradled your chin and tips your head up. “Don’t worry darling, whatever the old man has planned for you will be enjoyable. Ya know he got that experience he always brags about.” He winks at you before softly placing a kiss on your lips. It might’ve been just a quick peck but you immediately feel put at ease.

As you hear Joel come back down the stairs, Jack leans in to whisper in your ear “I’ll stay right here keep an eye on you Moon Love, hm?” When he pulls away he slightly nudges your head, his cheeky attitude makes you giggle. That’s the sound he loves so much that sweet, soft and melodic laughter fills his heart with pride.

You mouth a silent Thank you up at him.

“Ya two lovebirds havin’ fun without me, huh?” You turn your head back to Joel as he’s sitting down on the stool placed behind you. Yeah you definitely know where Jack gets his cheekiness from.

You give him your best cheeky smile “Nuh uh, we would neverrrr do that Daddy,” as you start persuasively rocking your hips from side to side.

“Tsk,tsk what a naughty little tease we’ve caught ourselves here,” you enjoyed when they almost behaved as if you weren’t right there, bend over between them.

“Anyway, I got a lil gift for our sweet girl,” Joel reached behind himself picking up a small rectangular black box and a bottle of…lube? You start frowning “Why do we need lube?”

“Cuz that sweet ass won’t get wet like your pussy baby, we will need lots of lube to make sure you have a good time.” He nods reassuring and hands you the little black box “Go on open it, show Jack what’s in the box,”

So you turn around holding it up to Jack and shake it to see if there’s any indication through sound but nothing happens.

“Okay, come on baby stop playing around and open it I’m curious,”

You slowly lift the lid off and all you see is what looks like a half-moon shaped topaz diamond surrounded by some black foam.

“A diamond?” You are quite confused, both had gotten you gifts before but this seems different.

Joel laughs darkly while gripping your hips “Ain’t for ya finger Angel,” one of his big hands is placed on your spine urging you to arch your back more. Before you can even think about it any longer you feel something wet and warm flickering over your puckered hole. Joel’s tongue. His beard scratches your cheeks so nicely.

“Fuckkkk, th..that feels so good,ughh” you are unable to hold the moans back.

He alternates between using the flat of his tongue on your neglected core and the pointy end on your asshole trying to wiggle his way in.

“Yes, yes Godddd Daddy, don’t stop,”

The shock of the sudden unknown stimulation has you forgetting all about the black box, but luckily Jack is right there. You don’t even register that he has taken the diamond out of its foam casing, until something cold and smooth touches your cheek. When you look up at him he’s holding onto the moon diamond but now you can see that it’s a lot more than just that.

“Wh..what is that?” You struggle to formulate straight sentences with Joel treating your cunt but mainly your asshole like a 4 star dinner.

It looks like an oval shaped metal egg is attached to the diamond, you’ve never seen anything similar before. Jack chuckles at your surprised face “ ‘s a butt plug, sweetheart, used to stretch little holes like yours.” He starts tracing over your lips with the oval shaped ending “open up baby.” Jacks dirty words combined with Joel’s tongue have your thighs quivering, hands clawing at the top of the headrest, breath coming out in short huffs. You are close to unraveling and Joel can feel it by the way your holes are furiously clenching around his tongue.

You do without further notice, dropping your jaw, rolling your tongue out and letting Jack places the cold metal into your warm waiting mouth. You wrap your lips around the toy, sucking and swirling your tongue all around.

“Yeah, atta girl suck on it before we’ll plug up your little ass” he strokes the hair out of your face and pats your cheek affectionately, glancing down at you with an adoration that is strictly reserved for you.

Yes the three of you are doing something forbidden, something that should feel bad, but its more than just mindless sex, more than a impulsive decision. You love Joel and Jack, you’ve reached a point where you can admit to have fallen not only for your boyfriend’s Dad, but also his Grandfather. Sometimes you wish to never have met James, as his part in this situation is more than inconvenient but it was necessary.

You gasp loudly around the metal in your mouth when you sense Joel’s tongue being replaced by one of his thick digits.

“Hm baby, that ass of yours ‘s the best I ever tasted, a goddamn delicacy,” while he slides the tip of his pointer finger through your slit, collecting your wetness and spreading it all over your asshole. “Look at how wet ya got sweet girl, all from that ass played with,huh?”

You reach a hand up to Jacks holding on to the plug, urging him to pull it out and once he dies you turn your head back to Joel.

He feels like the luckiest man alive when you gaze at his weathered face with your fucked out expression and gorgeous smile.

He grabs the lube bottle and tilts his head up at you “want me to put a finger in that tight hole, stretch it out more, before I push that plug in and send ya home to him.”

Before you even have the chance to respond, Joel has already squeezed a generous amount of lube onto your hole. You jump slightly at the cool gel texture that collides with your hot core. “Okay sweetheart, last chance, ya want that finger in your ass, yes or no?” Only now does it occur to you that he actually wants audible consent for what he’s about to do to you. It reminds you how precious this bond is, James, in comparison, rarely cared enough to ask you. He just took what he wanted.

As you continue to trace Joel’s face with your eyes, you reach a hand behind yourself to cup his scruffy cheek “Yes Daddy, I’d love for you to fuck my ass with your fingers, before you plug me up and send me back to him.”

On the ride back to the flat you share with James, you reminisce about how the evening continued to unfold. Joel didn’t just fuck your ass with one finger, no, in the end he stretched you till three of his meaty digits fit.

That alongside his eager mouth sucking on your pulsing clit and Jack whispering sweet filth in your ear, had you coming in no time.

When you started to come down from reaching that high, Joel slowly with more lube added pushed the plug into your winking hole. The previous penetration made it incredibly easy and rather pleasant than uncomfortable.

Before Joel called you an Uber, he gave you intensive instructions on how to use the plug the next few days to help make the goal of taking their cocks at the same time somewhat easier.

Of course to prove that you are a good girl for them, you did just as instructed. Spending every free minute bent over in front of the bedroom mirror alternating between using the toy or your fingers.

Now almost a week later you are currently getting ready in the bathroom for the weekly Miller Dinner, putting the finishing touches to your make up and adjusting your hair. The dress you want to wear already laid out, all that’s left to do is insert the plug and off you go.

James is so obvious he doesn’t question at all why you would be so excited for the routinely Dinner, practically buzzing in your seat, giddily singing to the music blaring through the speakers with a big smile plastered across your face. In your dream you’d like to sandwiched between them 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, all the time. You miss them the second you leave Joel’s house, only in their company you feel so light and free.

You almost run towards the massive entrance door after James had parked his car but stop yourself at the last moment, instead waiting patiently for your boyfriend to put his hand on your lower back and push you towards the house. When the door opens it’s as if all the stress from the outside world falls away, a big weight lifted off your chest.

Again, if James would be more observant he’d notice that the way his Father and Grandfather hug you is longer than appropriate. How their hands glide down your back to squeeze your ass, noses buried in your neck to get a good waft of that sweet bourbon vanilla perfume Jack had bought for you. Speaking of Jack he has the cheekiness to not simply grope your butt, no, he decides to feel for the plug and give it a push. All while James is right there busy taking off his shoes.

As usual, when you sit down to eat at the huge maghony dinner table, it doesn’t take 5 minutes before James pulls out his phone to text god knows who. His blatant disrespect used to upset you but his extra distraction now is more than useful now. While he’s talking without a pause about the great weekend he’ll have with his buddies just a couple hours away from Austin on a camping trip. You have already begun to tune him out as you discreetly slide your spandex covered foot up Joel’s shin, all the way up over his thigh until you gently tap at his crotch his bulge more than apparent.

James nagging voice addressing you directly pulls you from the cloud you had just been floating on “Babe you gonna be okay without me?” As if you hadn’t survived many nights without him. “Of course baby, I’ll pay a visit to some old friends.” You respond while winking at Joel and Jack, yes the weekend surely will be fun.

The first 2 days were spent like all the countless previous weekly hook-up meetings, they lapped at your pussy and ass, eating you for hours till you screamed from overstimulation. You of course got a mouth full of cock whenever you wanted, happily gagging on them. They alternated between fucking you, either Joel was pounding you while Jack watched or the other way around. If they got lucky you offered your pretty mouth for the one watching.

And the current position on Joel’s massive bed isn’t any less enticing, you are propped up on all fours. Joel’s hips flush with yours, one hand tightly gripping your hip while the other holds the clear silicone dildo he slowly inserted at the beginning of the night into your tight ring. Jack is occupying your mouth with his thick length, holding your face in his big hands, persistently hitting the back of your throat, in a rhythm that matches the one Joel uses to push against your G-Spot.

The room smells like sex, sweaty, stuffy and all that can be heard is slapping of skin mixed with the wet noises all three of your used holes make. Accompanied by the deep husky moans of both Jack and Joel. When Joel feels your walls tighten around him, the decision is quickly made to momentarily end the fun. Some silent communication must happen, because Jack suddenly shifts his hips back causing his cock to slip out of your mouth.

“You did so good for us Angel,” he leans down and presses his lips against yours briefly, a welcome distraction as Joel pulls the silicone toy from your ass.

Jack releases your lips “Okay baby, let’s get you in position, hm?” Yes you’ve talked about it, so Joel also shifts away leaving you with an empty feeling in your abdomen. He lays down on his back and you crawl on top of him, lifting up slightly as Joel lines himself up with your entrance. Jack settles up behind you grabbing your hips to help you slide down, “how’s it feel Moon?”

You lean back, resting your head on his shoulder, biting your lip while your own hands

“F..Fee.. Feels sooo good,” you bend forward planting your palms on Joel’s shoulders “, butttt there’s something missing.” all while arching your back as much as you can without risking that Joel’s cock slides out of your core.

“Ah, I know what you need babygirl,” Jack grabs the bottle of lube from the nightstand and starts to squeeze a decent amount out onto his fingers, which then wrap around his length. The slick noise makes a shiver run through your body.

“Relax baby, keep breathing, okay?” His warm moist tip starts to push into your puckered hole, it is so different to the fingers or the dildo, a warm rigid shaft parting your walls. Everything overwhelms your senses, so you seek out Joel’s comfort, nuzzling furter into his neck and instinctively biting him. Not hard enough to draw blood but definitely enough to make him gasp.

“Moon Love, ‘s okay, ya takin’ it so good.” He soothingly rubs your arms with his thumb, drawing tiny circles.

With little to no time you get used to their rhythmic push and pull. Your moans have gotten so loud that surely the whole neighborhood is getting an earful. Even through the hazy arousal clouding your mind it’s not lost on you that Jack is enjoying the tight channel of your butt, it makes him feral. He reaches for your hair carelessly gathering it into a ponytail and pulling you up, it doesn’t hurt, no, the tingling of your scalp turns you on further. That increases when Joel’s lips wrap around your hard nipple and starts biting it.

“U..uh..ughh, soo goo-“ Jack cuts you off

“Yeah feels good having his mouth on those sugar tits,” you only manage a pathetic nod.

Jack let’s go off your hair and Joel stops the assault on your nipple. As you lean back down you give him your best smile, stopping at his pursed lips for a quick kiss. When you open your eyes so close to his gorgeous face all that is on your mind are those 3 words, the ones that have been there since the first moment.

One more peck and you disappear into the safety of his neck again. “I’m so close Daddy,” you hoarsely whisper into his ear. “Ya wanna touch your little clit baby?” You nod. “Nuh, uh Moon, use your words” he knows how hard you try to not let go. “Ple..Pleaseeee, can I touch my clit, please Daddy?” You sound close to crying so Joel decides to show some mercy. “Go ahead, touch that clit, make yourself come.”

You do, with only drawing a couple small circles you fall over the edge, twitching and clenching down hard on both of them. Jack and Joel follow you suit spilling deep inside your holes. The waves of your high are still cursing through you when some commotion forces you to find back to the present moment.

Jack and Joel don’t get to catch their breaths after filling you up. “Wha…What the fuck is going on here?” James furious voice cuts through the blissful quiet. Jack instantly pulls out of you with a hiss letting his cum flow down from your used asshole to your pussy still plugged with Joel’s cock.

James thinks it’s just him walking in on something strange. His Dad and Grandfather going to town on some woman, but when you lift your head and stare straight at him while his father’s cum is dripping out of you he feels sick. “Mo..Moon, wha..what is this?” he almost wants to take a step closer but stops himself.

You don’t have the energy to answer but it’s not needed James puts two and two together. Turning away running down the stairs. Jack stumbles of the bed, grabs his shorts and hurries after James “Wait, Please James listen son..-“ the rest is cut off as they are out of hearing range.

“Fuck,” you mutter closing your eyes and putting your head down “what’s gonna happen now?”

His hands smooth over the plains of your shoulders drawing shapes on your spine. “Don’t know baby, no idea what Jack will do. But i don’t care, as long as ya here I’m happy.”

You begin to place gentle kisses to the spot you bit him earlier “Sounds like a good plan to me,”

“Good, ya gonna be the last woman I’ll love Mooni,” you sit up smacking his chest “Don’t say that Joel,” while scoffing, he’s impossible making you all sappy after fucking you brainless.

“Wait,” you move his head with your hands to face you “, where did you get that Moon Diamond Plug. I’ve been meaning to ask.”

He shrugs his shoulders “Had it specially made for ya baby girl.”

You sigh dreamily “I love you Joel,”

Without missing a beat he replies “I love you too.”

This is what heaven on earth feels like.

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