#definitely didn't have to stretch this out way more than i should have

[orcasoul]

The Lesser of Two Evils

Chapter summary: You finally arrive in Rome and it's more than you could have ever imagined...

Warnings: Swearing, smut (eventual), threats of rape, sexual harassment, violence, gore, detailed injuries, angst, enemies(ish) to lovers, slow burn, protective Marcus Acacius, age gap, OFC/reader

Word Count: 5,266

Chapter 5 New beginnings

The next morning you had passed through Reschen Pass and began making your way south to Rome. Only two more days and your life will change forever. The thought both thrills and scares you. Despite your heated words last night, you still preferred to ride beside Marcus, only feeling safe by his side. Thankfully the three men from last night were riding at the very back of the group, so you didn't even have to look at them. "Not long now," Marcus said softly, almost like a peace offering. When you looked at him, you saw the softness of his voice reflecting in his eyes. You realise this is his way of extending the olive branch, and for some reason it instantly made you feel lighter, more at ease.

You smile, a genuine and appreciative one in return to his gesture. "I'm sure your people will be overjoyed to see their General returned to them alive and well." "They will be," Marcus acknowledged, "and they will also know it's all because of you." "Oh, that's not necessary," you spluttered, the thought of drawing attention to yourself making you feel jittery. You'd much rather just blend into the background. "Too late," Marcus shrugged, the phantom of a smirk in the corner of his mouth. "A carrier pigeon has been sent, informing the Emperors and the Senate of when they can expect our arrival and of your bravery and desire to start anew in Rome. Your name will be on everyone's lips by the time we arrive."

You're not sure how you feel about that. Would it work in your favour and make the adjustment in Rome a little easier? The idea of being under everyone's scrutiny makes you nervous, but at least the Roman people won't view you as yours did. "I think you pay me too much mind. I'm nothing special," you say, hoping to the god's that Marcus is exaggerating. "I'm an outsider, insignificant. Now one will concern themselves with the likes of me." At least that's what you hope. Marcus hums in agreement but the look he's giving you suggests otherwise. The day continues with you and Marcus making civil and lighthearted conversation, neither of you mentioning the night before. Back at the Castrum you'd both had very little time to talk in the days. Even though he was injured and recovering, he's still the General and carried out his duties of overseeing all.

This journey has given you both nothing but time and even though neither of you spoke much at the start of it, you've become more comfortable talking to him. He must be feeling more at ease with you too, because today you've managed to draw out a few laughs from him; deep genuine rumbles that bring a warmth to your core and a smile to your face. He should definitely laugh more, you muse, especially when it lightens his face and softens his usual stoic facade. You find yourself hoping to see more of it over the next couple of days. By the end of the day, your party had completed the route through the valleys of the Alps; a spectacle of nature you'll never forget with its pure white, snow capped jagged peaks giving way to vibrant greenery and large pockets of trees further down the steep vallleys, and crystal lakes so dazzlingly blue and clear that they hold the world around them on their surfaces.

A part of you regrets leaving the magnificence of it all behind, certain you'll never see such natural artistry again. The Next day is spent travelling farther south, the air becoming warmer as you continue. The landscape of Italia (Italy) is so alien to you. Over the hours, rolling hills become gentle slopes of lush green fields, some with strange, long formations that stretch for miles. After asking Marcus what they are he'd told you they are vineyards, where rows and rows of grapes are grown to be pressed into wine. The further south you go the greenery becomes patchy, with dried, yellowing grass and rocky, sunbaked ground. The temperature has increased significantly with a constant humidity hanging heavily in the air. The sun has never been so unforgiving. Of course, in Germania the summers were hot but this is something else, and it's only early spring.

Even the trees looked odd to you. Tall, thin trees called Cypress trees - according to Marcus - seemed to grow in abundance along with thick, gnarley looking trees that produced green and purple fruits called Olives and the most unusual kind called Strawberry trees. Marcus had picked some of the round, prickly looking red fruit for you to try, the mix of sweet and sour flavours and it's soft grainy texture pleasantly surprising you. Every now and then you'd pass farmhouses and nearby villages on your way, the buildings' whitewashed walls glinting in the sun. From what you could see of the buildings, they're entirely unlike any you've ever seen before. Marcus watched as you took in your new surroundings with childlike awe. He's wasn't sure what lit up your face more; the sunlight - which he'd now noticed gave your dark brown, braided hair a glossy shine - or the wonderment of discovering so many new things.

He found indulging your questions and your growing enthusiasm quite endearing, even if some of the men muttered annoyances under their breath. As long as you dont hear them, he'll let it side for the sake of harmony, even if it vexes him. Returning his focus to you, Marcus smiled, "If you're impressed now, wait until we reach Rome." "What do you mean?" you asked, unable to suppress your intrigued smile. "You'll see..." he chuckled, turning to look over his horse's head. Maybe it's because the journey is almost over and the reassurance of safety that comes with it, but you've not seen Marcus look so at ease. There appeared to be a lightness to him now that wasn't there before (or he just hid it well) and you found yourself enjoying this version of him. It's like looking at a different person.

And it's only now that you realise just how striking he appears from the side as your eyes slowly trace the curve of his prominent nose and line of his jaw (which is still noticable, even through his slightly longer scruff). You were unaware your eyes had been lingering until Marcus looked your way, breaking you out of the little trance you'd slipped into. You quickly turn your focus back to your horse, cheeks heating with a pink blush. What you didn't notice was the barely there smirk, hiding in the corner of his mouth at your obvious bashfulness.

By the early evening you had arrived at Tuscia (Tuscany) and kept going until sunset. This will be the last stop for your group. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits tonight, the men chatting amongst themselves, some expressing their eagerness to see their loved ones during the weeks' rest they'll get before making the journey back to Germania (Germany). Some of them even spoke to you this time - like you're an actual human being and not lower than the dirt they walk on. It felt strange to be viewed in such a way, and even though you still felt uncomfortable amongst them, you made every effort to tamp down your anxiety and engage in the conversations. As the night stretched on, the conversations inevitably wound down, until everyone - except the watchmen - was asleep; well, everyone except you. Your mind is awash with anticipation, for tomorrow you'll arrive in Rome and begin the next chapter of your life.

Even though Marcus had already told you so much about the city and what to expect in terms of societal expectations, customs, traditions and laws, you still feel as though you're going in blind and unprepared. That uncertainty leaves you with a knot in your stomach but at the same time there's also a tinge of excitement about the possibilities that await you. For the first time ever, you'll be in control of your own destiny. Maybe you could find employment (if you remember the word correctly) and never have to scrape your way through life again. The concept of employment is a strange one to you. Back in the village everyone pitched in and contributed to the community in some way. There was no such thing as working for currency. The idea of being able to look after yourself just seems too good to be true. The more you dwelt on it all, the more restless you became.

Laying on your back, you gaze up at the twinkling heavens, searching for the constellations you know well, while the fire crackles comfortingly and soft snores echo around you. The night sky always provided comfort for you when you were anxious or lonely and you sigh gently as you feel yourself begin to relax under it's glittering canopy. "Can't sleep?" Marcus' low whisper catches you off guard. "Just a bit nervous for tomorrow," you reply after a moment, turning onto your side to face him. Marcus nods. "Many things will change for you tomorrow," he surmised, "but you won't be alone. I'll make sure you get the best start possible." You mimic Marcus' posture by propping up on your elbow, resting the back of your head in your hand, regarding him with a deep gratitude you can never truly express. "Thank you, Marcus..." you smile, looking deeply into his eyes in the hope that your own eyes can convey how much you appreciate him, "for everything. You've done so much for me." Marcus smiles, shaking his head in dismissal, "It's no more than you've done for me."

You nod, keeping eye contact and for the first time you don't feel uncomfortable; in fact, the smile Marcus is giving you stirs a little flutter in your stomach. "You know... maybe I was wrong about Romans," you begin, "you're not... all bad people." Marcus chuckles, softly. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." Despite your efforts to keep your amusement at bay, your mouth betrays you, breaking out into a slightly bashful smirk. "Yeah, well don't let it get to your head, General. Your helmet won't fit." "Noted," Marcus laughs, quietly, drawing one from you in return. Nearby, a sleeping soldier stirs, catching both of your attention and you stifle your laughter behind your hand to not wake him. "We should try and get some sleep," Marcus whispers, even more quietly now. "We've got a big day tomorrow." With amusement still on your face you bid marcus a goodnight and he in return, both of you settling down for the night.

Just after dawn broke, your group prepared for the last leg of your journey. It almost felt like this day would never come, yet here you are, only a few hours from Rome. The closer you get, the more farms you pass, some small and humble looking and others with large houses - or villas as you'd come to learn - a clear sign of wealth. When you were only an hours' ride away, Marcus sent several of his men ahead to inform the Emperors and the Senate of your imminent arrival. A little while later, the horizon began to shimmer in the bright sunlight, a mixture of white and grey becoming larger as you drew closer. Soon the colours became shapes and your breath caught in your chest and eyes widened as it became clear you were looking at buildings. Buildings so large and numerous, they seemed to never end. Marcus, hearing the small gasp escaping you, turned to observe the look of amazement on your face. His mouth quirked up on one side as you looked at him in disbelief. "There she is..." he said, with pride in his voice. "Welcome to Rome."

*****

Have you entered another reality, another realm?! Maybe you've hit your head or had gotten injured on the journey and slipped into a fever dream because this can't be real; it's impossible! No man is capable of such creations. Everywhere you look, there are imposing buildings of various shapes and sizes, some brilliant white, some grey and beige with orange rooftops and gigantic columns that stretch the length of the facade, holding up triangular structures. Many of these constructions host an array of colourful and symmetrical patterns and shapes carved into the stonework and smooth material too polished and grand to have occurred naturally. Large archways with golden coated depictions of beings with wings, carved floral images and even painted scenes of possible important events or stories tower over you as you ride, entranced, through the bustling streets; even the ground is paved with large neutral slabs.

Large sculptures of people and animals stand proud, surrounded by water inside what you can only describe as a huge stone basin (fountains, Marcus had informed you). People - too numerous to count - give you curious eyes as your group passes by and you try your best to ignore them while absorbing everything around you. You're at a complete loss for words. You had expected improved living conditions in Rome, but nothing could have prepared you for such... outrageous extravagance. But of all the buildings to amaze you, none did quite as much as the soaring, circular construction that seemed to dominate it's surroundings, with it's continuous arches, piled on top of each other three stories high, another level of solid wall above and rows and rows of wooden beams at the very top.

Marcus watched you face flit through a dozen emotions at once as you took in the sights; shock, awe, excitement, happiness, disbelief, eagerness, he could write an epic poem to describe your reaction right now. "What is that?" you gasped, seemingly unable to tear your gaze away from what has captured you. "That's the Coliseum, used for Gladitorial games." "It's magnificent!" you gush, craning your neck back to look up as you ride alongside it. "I never knew such things could exist." Marcus' mouth ticked upwards. He enjoyed observing you as much as you did your new home. He chuckled to himself as he likened you to an owl; eyes round as saucers and head swiveling in all directions. "What are those?" you point to odd open sided boxes, lined with thin veils and people laying inside, being hoisted by other people. They appear to be quite popular.

Marcus looked to where you are pointing. "They're called Litters. Some wealthy people travel around the city in them." That is the most ridiculous and lazy thing you've ever seen. These people have legs, don't they! Despite your initial judgment, you decide it's best not to voice your opinion. The last thing you want is to cause offence. As if Marcus could read your mind - or maybe it was the expression on your face - he leaned closer and with a snicker, he whispered. "I know, they seem rather fatuous." "Yeah," you couldn't help but laugh in return. "So... where exactly are we going?" you ask after a moment. "The Forum of Augustus. The Emperors and the Senate are awaiting our arrival there at the Temple of Mars." "Our...?" you whip your head back to Marcus, voice a little shaky. Hopefully it'll be put down to being jostled on the horse and not nerves.

"That's right. They'll want to meet you." Subconciously, you grip the reins of the horse tighter, as if you could transfer the rising tension from your body into the leather straps. "Surely not, I'm nobody," you try to reason. The idea of meeting such important people has your stomach churning. "It'll be okay," Marcus smiled, reassuringly. "All you have to do is bow, address the Emperors as Your Majesty when they speak to you, and under no circumstances do you ever turn your back to them." "Why? you ask, perplexed. " Are they dangerous? Can I not trust them?" Marcus chuckled, softly. "You misunderstand my meaning." Actually, yes they are dangerous and you can't trust them, his inner voice whispered. "It's a sign of disrespect to show them your back."

"Oh..." you nod, thoughtfully. "It seems I have a lot to learn." "Lucky for you I'm a patient teacher," Marcus smiled, a hint of a tease in his tone. "I think you've got your work cut out for you," you warn in jest. As you, Marcus and your entourage press on you begin to hear Marcus' name being murmured amongst nearby people and before you know it, crowds have gathered, all chanting "Acacius! Acacius" over and over. Strange how they're all calling him by his second name. Is that how people address one another in Rome? Waves and cheers now fill the streets as all attention is on the General. It amazes you how he seems completely unperturbed by the growing hysteria, waving back at the exuberant masses. So many people love him; first, at the Castrum, now this.

At this moment in time he has become a god amongst men, sitting tall and proud upon his horse, red cape trailing behind him, splayed out over the steed's back. The sun hits his salt and pepper curls just right, and his skin seems to glow golden in the warm rays. He has never looked so handsome. All at once your lower stomach floods with warmth and a feeling you haven't had in years. You shift in your saddle, trying to take the pressure away from the ache between your legs. What the hell is wrong with you?! Shame has now replaced the sensation and you refuse to give... whatever that was any more attention. You put it down to being caught up in the moment. Everyone around is in awe of Marcus, so it's impossible to not get swept up in the atmosphere and admire him too. Yep, that's what it is.

Upon arriving at the Forum of Augustus, you're taken aback, yet again. The city's numerous wonders are never ending! The entire courtyard gleams shockingly white in the afternoon sun, reminding you of deep blankets of pristine snow back in Germania. On either side of you, rows of colourful columns line sheltered walkways with patterned floors, the gaps between each column sporting various bronze and marble statues. In the centre of the courtyard stands an impressive bronze sculpture of a man driving a four horse chariot and at the very end of the area stands, what you assume, the Temple of Mars. A grandiose building if ever you've seen one. More expertly crafted columns adorn the front, statues of more winged people in flowing robes perch on both corners of the roof and in the triangular section beneath them, are more carvings of people in various poses. Fires burn in braziers on both sides of the stairway and the smell of oils and incense waft on the light breeze.

A large group of men, dressed in fine white togas wait at the top of the steps. In front of them, stand two young men - one dressed in vibrant red and gold attire and a cloak wrapped around his body from shoulder to hip, and the other in dark blue and gold with a floor length cloak. Both men wear crowns of golden laurels that glint in the sunshine. Just before reaching the steps, Marcus raised his fist; an order for everyone to stop. Turning his horse to face his men, he begins, "Brothers, I cannot express the depth of my gratitude for your loyalty and dedication. It has been a long and tiring journey and I'm sure you are eager to rest. For those of you who can, return to your families, for everyone else: return to the barracks. Eat and rest before your journey back to Germania. May the gods go with you." Marcus crossed his arm over his chest and bowed his head. Every man mimicked his gesture all wishing farewell to their General.

Some of them even nodded to you before turning their horses about and riding out of the Forum. You can't help but imagine the joyful reunions some of these men will have with their families. It brings warmth to your heart. Marcus dismounted his horse and walked over to you. "Come." He held his hands out to you. Carefully, you lean towards him, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders, while his hands hold you firmly around the hips. He picked you down off the horse as if you weighed nothing and you hope he didn't just notice the small blush coating your cheeks at the intimacy of his hold. "Thank you," you mumble unable to look him in the eye. You don't know what has gotten into you; first the 'incident' while he was greeting the crowd, and now just because he helped you dismount. It's just the heat and fatigue, you tell yourself.

"Follow me," Marcus said. You swear you just saw his lip tick up on one side, briefly. You trail a couple of steps behind as he ascends the steps, his cape billowing in the breeze. All the while, you purposely fixate on the motions of his cape; anything to try and not acknowledge the dozens of eyes baring down on you. "Remember what I told you," Marcus whispers over his shoulder. "Bow, don't speak unless you are spoken too, address them as Your Majesty and don't show your back to them." "Understood," you gulp, your nerves beginning to fray. The closer you get, the faster your heart thumps and the sweatier your palms become. You're so distracted by your consternation that you don't even realise you're at the top of the steps until you almost walk straight into Marcus' back, only managing to stop an inch away from him. That would have been embarrassing.

"General Acacius, your arrival has been much anticipated. Rome welcomes you. I trust your journey was uneventful?" the tallest of the two men says. Marcus bowed his head and crossed his arm over his chest. "Your Majesties, it is a relief to be back. It was a tiring journey." "And a dangerous too," the shorter one interjected. "It's a miracle you've returned in one piece." "Yes, the gods have been good to us," Marcus stated. It's strange, the way he's conversing with them, like he's just tolerating two obnoxious children. "And this must be your valiant saviour," the tall man says, looking over Marcus' shoulder, his tone dripping in condescension. Marcus takes a step to the left and you get your first up close view of the two most powerful men in the world.

They're the oddest looking men you've ever seen. The honey colour of their hair looks artificial and their unnatural pasty complexions contrast with the rest of their skin. Their arms and hands are laden with gold and colourful gems, it's a wonder they can hold themselves upright. But the thing that took you the most by surprise was the peculiar, furry creature, decked out in clothing atop the shorter Emperors' shoulder. "Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla," Marcus motioned to each man in turn, "This is Alia, of the Gutones." Marcus now turns to look at you, his voice returning to the softness you've become accustomed to with him. "She's the reason I'm standing here today." You're frozen, tongue clued to the roof of your mouth, all lessons of etiquette and propriety Marcus had given you forgotten.

When Marcus clears his throat, you come back to yourself and quickly bow your head. Geta eyes you with both distaste and mild amusement. "Rumours of your dramatic rescue have swept the city. Rome is indebted to you. Tell us, how can we repay such bravery?" You lift your head but don't dare look Geta in the eye. "Y - Your Majesties..." you stutter, "I wish to become a citizen of Rome, if you please?" Geta chuckles, while Caracalla turns his head to feed the creature on his shoulder. "You see brother," Geta grins, broadly, "eventually, everyone succumbs to Rome." His tone took on an edge of darkness as he stared you down. Caracalla looks your way, offering you a smile that makes your skin prickle. You can't help but feel there is more hiding behind it. You've dealt with bullies your whole life, so you recognise the signs and right now he's clearly amused by your discomfort.

"It's the least we can do for our Generals' saviour," he answers his brother. "Thank you... Your Majesties." You bow again, resisting the need to fiddle with the hem of your clothing. Being under their gaze makes your hairs stand on end. Everything about these two screams 'danger', and you'd be a fool to ignore it. Even when they offer you polite words, they come with malice woven within. Maybe Marcus can sense it too, because now he seems keen to end this interaction. "If I may Your Majesties," he began, "I'd like to offer my praise to Mars and then we wish to leave. We're both very tired." Geta's attention shifted to Marcus, his eyes narrowing slightly before relaxing once more. "Of course, Acacius. We shan't keep you any longer." Both brothers stood aside to let you pass. Marcus bowed and you did the same.

"Shall we...?" Marcus placed his hand at the small of your back, ushering you past the Emperors, stopping briefly when the crowd of Senators greeted him with quick pleasentries. Marcus took it all in his stride, formally returning the greetings before stepping into the temple. Your steps slowed as you followed him into The Temple of Mars, the sheer enormity and grandeur of the place leaving you breathless. High decorated ceilings echo the chants of priests, faint whisps of burning incense swirl in the air and thick marble pillars with golden carved Acanthus hold up a balcony that spans the entire room. Small braziers hang low from the ceilings, giving a warm glow to the hall below while high up, small rectangular windows light up the balcony. The floor is so smooth, you can see your reflection in the many beautiful patterns. At the very end of the room, nestled under a large archway and flanked by two large braziers, is a huge, golden statue of a bearded man in armour, holding a spear. So this is Mars.

Marcus stops before you, gently holding onto your elbow. "Wait here, I won't be long," he whispers before approaching the statue and bending - somewhat awkwardly - on one knee. While Marcus is pre-occupied you watch the comings and goings of worshippers and their strange customs and rituals. With the chanting voices and the overwhelming scents surrounding you, the whole atmosphere feels reverent and otherworldly. You wonder just how many Roman gods there are. A few minutes later, Marcus appears at our side. "Let's go." His hand settles at the bottom of your back again and something flutters in your tummy. For reasons unknown, you're really beginning to like his hand there. It instantly calms your nerves, makes you feel protected, safe, maybe even... cared for.

The subdued light of the temple left you unprepared for the sudden brightness outside, and you have to shield your eyes to the blinding rays reflecting off the white floor. The people who'd gathered earlier, lingered in The Forum of Augustus, eager to see their General once more. Marcus helps you mount your horse before climbing atop his own. As you leave The Forum, people, both noble and low born, regard Marcus with respect and admiration while giving you a very different reception; some look at you with confusion, along with whispers and unashamed pointing, other's with a disgusted curl of their lip, as if your very appearance is offensive. Well, maybe it is to these people; after all, your are still wearing the clothes of your tribe.

As you pass more people, you take note of the appearance of the women. The multiple layers of their attire look complicated and unnecessary, but if you want to fit in you'll have to adopt their style, no matter how frivolous it looks to you. "Where are we going?" you ask Marcus as he leads you through the city. "Home," he answers, simply. The notion of home hits you like a sharp twist in the chest. You don't even know what that means to you anymore. The 'home' you'd left ceased to be your home the night your parents died. And after losing Farro, the place became hell for you. But that's in the past and for the first time, you have the opportunity to better yourself and make a new home, so a brief stay at Marcus' villa will give you the time to figure out your next step.

Marcus leads you just outside the city to a very affluent area dotted with large villas on spacious grounds. "We're here. This is it," Marcus announced as you approached the largest villa in the area atop a gentle slope. Lines of Cypress trees line both sides of the pathway that leads to a walled archway, manned by two guards. Entering the courtyard, your jaw hangs low as you soak in the size and splendour of Marcus' home. Four sections of bright white buildings and warm orange roofs all join together to make one huge square residence. A variety of brightly coloured flowers and creeper plants hang on the walls and from multiple balconies on the upper floors. A large three tired fountain with carved fish that pour water from their mouths into basins of increasing size sits the centre of the courtyard. Heavens, the Romans really love fountains!

The shuttered windows and the doorways are bordered with more carvings of Acanthus and scroll-like patterns. At the main entrance a line of nine people - five women and four men - wait with their heads inclined and hands clasped in front of them. As you and Marcus bring the horses to a stop in front of them, a short middle aged man with a receding hairline steps forward, bowing his head, respectfully, a heartfelt smile on his lips. "Welcome home, Dominus. Praise the gods for your safe return." Marcus dismounts, handing the reins to a younger man who'd stepped forward to receive the horses. "It's good to be back, Silas," Marcus greeted him warmly. "I trust everything has been kept in order during my absence." "Perfectly, Sir," Silas replies. Marcus turned to you, extending his arms, once again to help you down. The young man takes the horses' reins and leads them away. The man in front of you gives you an appraising look, before dipping his head, slightly.

"This is Alia," Marcus introduced you. "She is my honoured guest and is to be treated as such. Alia, this is Silas. He is the head of my household." "Welcome, My Lady," Silas greeted you. You give him a shy smile, unsure of what to say. Thankfully, Marcus continues, "Cassia, Flavia..." Two young women (probably in their mid to late twenties) step forward. "Please show Alia to her room and help her settle in." "Yes, Dominus," one of the girls - the blonde one - answered. "Please follow us, My Lady." You nervously look to Marcus, feeling a little on edge about leaving him, after all, he's the only person you know in this whole country. Clearly seeing your hesitancy, Marcus places a hand on your shoulder, his touch feather light. It's okay," he soothed. "Go on and rest. I'll see you in a little while for dinner." "Okay," you give Marcus a tight lipped smile and follow the girls into the villa.

Series Masterlist Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 6 - coming soon

@bbyanarchist @myownwholewildworldwhole @imherefordeanandbones @picketniffler @h0w-1-wanna-l1v3 @chrissy-forfucksakes-wakeup @meetmeatyourworst @yorksgirl @joeldjarin @echo-ethe @whirlwindrider29 @abbyanarchist @suzyface @missadangel @evyiione

[lunarruled]

"Miss you? Yeah maybe when Hell freezes over." This time the cutting words are said with a much lighter tone, Kyleigh's small way of apologizing for being rude to him when they first met at the door. Funny they would be at this point now, working together for a few hours then walking out to that same space. She liked it though, the job of course, seeing as she hadn't really gotten to know Leon just yet. Wait until one of them became mad or pissed off about something, then the true colors would come out. Though she had to admit as she walked out of the club with him that she seriously doubted anyone would test the man. A dumbass perhaps, but one look at him and a smart person would apologize and run away. She was proud of herself for getting a chuckle out of him with that joke, happy to see that he didn't get all weird like a lot of other men might. Times were changing and things were a bit more open now but some people would never be okay with the idea (or the joke of) someone of the same sex having feelings for them. "You're right, it is kind of hard to find good help these days and I definitely should have expected that kind of answer from you." One of the half lycan's best senses was her sight and she had hot blood pumping through her veins. So yes she could see he was a handsome man. But that word would never come out of her mouth as long as Leon was within earshot. While the the nudge would have barely moved a fly Kyleigh had to be dramatic about it and act as if it threw her off balance. "Hey! You break you buy Stretch!" She joked with him, reaching into her pocket to grab the keys to her motorcycle. "What exactly is your type then? Wait, let me guess! Tall, blonde, boob size higher than her IQ and a wallet full of some sugar daddy's plastic. Am I close?"

He thought it had been nothing too spectacular, just doing what he felt was right. It was just who he was, maybe as much good deeds as he could possibly do to make up for his past. A feeling he felt would never fade no matter how long he stood on this Earth. There were no hard feelings towards her from their meeting, in a way he could understand it, besides now they were here on much friendlier terms. In fact he swore he saw a smile for a moment before heading back completely to get his things, but he knew better to say anything. Either way, he had no intention of keeping her waiting too long and he was glad to see she didn't just take off without him when he came back. "Pft, you're allowed to say you missed me." Strap on his shoulder from his backpack adjusted as he stood there to let her know he was back, waiting for her to step forward to follow her out. It wasn't hard to leave, they always had their own entrance and exit being employees. And soon they were out into the cool air where ears would ring for a few moments after adjusting to the quiet compared to the thumping noise of the club. Brow furrowed a moment as she assumed his hours, though it wasn't entirely surprising either but they had enough man power for the remaining hours. Hearing that his boss might have a man crush on him, however, made the blond chuckle as his head shook. "You think he has a man crush on me?" He questions with another chuckle. "I just think he likes that I show up to work and do it right. But hey, can't blame him either if he likes what he sees." His grin grows, giving her a little nudge as a tease. "Too bad he's not my type, I won't like breaking his heart."

[cheyisagirlkisser]

I beg of you to do some good nsfw mean dom sevika doin some brat taming 🤭🤭🤭

nsfw content warning. Spanking, clit stim, rough strap-on sex, harsh words, hairpulling, all that good but consensual stuff!

"Gonna fill this pussy up so good, baby.."

Sevika was treating you real nice, having your body laid across her lap as she just rubbed your clit from behind. Her touch is sensual and she promised to stretch you full (if her cock adjusted on her waist jutting obscenely out isn't enough of a promise already), but the thumb rubbing firmly on your clit isn't enough for you, apparently.

Sevika is starting to notice that over time, you have become more and more impatient. The first few fucks were good. You listened to her, when she would say "cum", you'd cum and thank her. Sevika likes her girls well-behaved. You, she initially thought, are well-behaved.

The previous times she's fucked you has proven her wrong, unfortunately. You went from her sweet girl, on your knees at her beck and call, to what? A greedy whore? It hasn't happened yet, not with her at least meeting you halfway by not teasing your clit, instead keeping the pressure building and firm, but she has a feeling you're going to catch an attitude for more, to get your way. To prove whatever point you wanna make with her. Unfortunately, she's right.

Sevika is so, so close to getting you to where she wants you. She isn't too much of a tease, not tonight. Talking you through it, telling you how pretty your pussy is from the view, all of that good stuff she likes to do. She is just about to pull you off of her, to fuck you just how you like it when her ears catch that little grumble. She hopes that she didn't just hear what she thinks passed through her brain.

"Not fucking me fast enough." Is what she definitely just heard. It's a sly, subtle comment, simply mumbled by you in a whiney tone that she usually wouldn't care too much to check. But Sevika's just not the most patient. You, unknowingly, just fucked yourself harder than any dildo of hers could.

Sevika's flesh palm connects with your ass cheek. You should be grateful that she doesn't use her shimmer arm, but you can't even register it all. You would cry out, if you had the time to process it before she's manhandling you onto your hands and knees, breeching your entrance with the tip of her cock, and not even hesitating to shove every single inch that she can possibly manage.

You said you wanted to be fucked, Sevika is only granting your wish. On her own terms, of course.

You cry out as she bottoms out, your pussy tightening around the shaft so tightly, almost rejecting the suddenness of it all. It's not like the usual fire that you get from her where you feel all gooey and warm inside. This is more like a pain that spreads, but with it the pleasure begins to seep into your body throughout, though it's quite overwhelming.

Sevika sets a steady pace, fucking deep into you, landing smacks on your ass that make you almost collapse onto the bed prone, but her mechanical arm holds you up by your stomach, one of her cold, metallic fingers flicking at your clit tauntingly as you cry out. For mercy, or for more? You don't even know.

"What's wrong? You said I wasn't fucking you fast enough." She teases, angling her hips upwards to take advantage the angle. She is going to ruin your poor g-spot at the pure harshness of it all.

"It's too much, please-" you choke out, and she tugs your hair tightly, forcing you to look back at her. She doesn't look amused besides the subtle twinkle in her eye.

"You're gonna take everything I have to give this pussy. Gonna take it like a greedy whore, cause that's what you are, aren't you?"

You whine, but you can't deny her words.

"Yeah, you are. You can tell me to stop anytime," her voice grows breathless with her thrusts, "but you haven't." And that's entirely true. All of what she's done, you've told her in the past that she has the access to it all. You know your safe word. Why is it that you like so badly to be tamed like some lap dog, not allowed to whine back at her?

Sevika hasn't caught on yet. She's a smart woman, she hasn't thought it out like you have. You began to act up on purpose, whining and complaining during sex, acting inconvenienced just to get her attention. To get on her nerves and finally see her snap, and it is just glorious to witness as she fucks you just like how your pussy's been begging her to fuck you. Deeply, as if she is made for you. Fast and harsh, as if she hates you. Sevika is mean, and you always noticed that when watching her talk to other people. You've wanted it for yourself.

Eventually, Sevika lets you collapse. She doesn't stop, but alternates into deep strokes, now just wanting to see you spill over.

"You love it when I say awful, filthy shit to you. Admit it." Her breath is next to your ear now, her front pressed up against your back. Her stiff nipples brush deliciously against your bare skin.

"I love it. I love when you fuck me 'n be mean to me," you struggle to admit, but there it is. She's got you tamed.

"Yeah, there's my good girl.." she coos praisingly, making your head spin. "Just likes to be a brat for fun?"

You can't answer because she offers one deep, hard thrust, making your pussy cream, even coating a bit of the harness in your juices.

It is all so worth it, cause now she's got her good girl back, and she knows just what you like.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (31/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The promised back massage - and friends help each other.

Warnings: 18+ (thigh riding, inexperienced!reader)

Word Count: 3.6k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: I'm so proud. Charlie won his home race! I'm still crying. feedback is appreciated!

"So?" asks Charles as you move further and further away from the beautiful house. "What do you think of them?"

You smile at him. "You have a really great family, Charles. Maybe a little wild, but it's obvious how much you love each other."

He looks at you briefly before returning his gaze to the road ahead. "I love them more than anything. Ever since my father died, we've taken every opportunity to spend time together." He swallows briefly. "We appreciate each other. And that's worth a lot."

You carefully reach for his hand, which is resting on the shift stick, and turn it so that you can interlace your fingers with his. You place it on your lap and stroke the back of his hand in gentle circles with your thumb. "Thank you for taking me here. It means a lot to me."

"Actually, I didn't have any other choice. I think my mother would have kicked down our front door if I kept you from her." Charles has to grin. "I definitely wouldn't have survived that."

"So that's how it is," you grin and let go of his hand with mock outrage. "So you only took me with you out of pure self-protection."

Before you can cross your arms in front of your chest, he grabs your hand again and brings it up to his mouth so that he can tentatively blow a kiss on your knuckles. "Do you believe me when I tell you that it's incredibly important to me that you know my family? And that you like them?"

You feel the heat rush to your face as he brushes his lips over the thin skin of your fingers. You take a quick breath and stare at him before nervously - and slightly turned on - looking away from him. "Maybe." You try to sound as nonchalant as possible and hope that Charles doesn't notice the tremble in your voice. "I'm definitely glad Arthur didn't do anything to you. I bet he was a kid back then who just bit other children."

Charles has to laugh at that. Loudly and fervently, and you don't know if he does it on purpose, but he presses your hand firmly against his muscular chest and holds it there. You feel the vibration under your fingertips and air rushing through his lungs, and his laughter is so infectious that you can't help but join in.

When he finally lets go of your hand, he wipes the tears from his face. He takes another deep breath before letting out one last laugh and then places his hand on your thigh like it's the most normal thing in the world. The warmth of his skin almost burns through the fabric of your clothes. You try not to let it show. "Believe me, mon amour. I should even have a scar from his teeth somewhere."

When you stop at a traffic light, Charles leans forward a little and pushes his back through. When you hear a few of his vertebrae crack, you grimace. "Does your back hurt?"

"A little." He leans back into the seat again, but stretches his neck to the side. "Not being able to lean back for hours is more uncomfortable than you think." When he glances at you out of the corner of his eye and smirks, you lightly punch his shoulder. 

"You idiot." Charles laughs in response. "You're just after a back massage!"

"You take what you can get." His hand squeezes your thigh. 

You roll your eyes. "You could have just asked for a massage, you know? I imagine the stool isn't the most comfortable piece of furniture."

Charles shrugs. "I didn't want it to be weird in any way."

Your gaze focuses on his slender fingers on your leg. "Do you mean because of this morning?" you ask meekly. 

"Actually -" Charles clears his throat. " Because of Arthur, actually. He was hinting at something and - I don't know." He steers the car onto the street where your apartment is. When he takes his hand off your thigh to change gear, you miss his touch. Without another word, he parks the Renault in the building's underground garage and without looking at you, you take the elevator to your apartment. 

The silence between you is a little awkward. The fact that you brought up the incident from this morning has somehow killed the mood and you'd like to slap yourself for it. You could have left it at that - after all, you had spoken to each other and agreed that everything was fine between you - but you had stupidly cast it in a different light.

You get ready for bed in separate rooms in silence. While Charles brushes his teeth in the bathroom, you change in the bedroom and slip into comfortable shorts and a shirt that you're not sure if it belongs to you or Charles. When you run into each other in the hallway, you don't look at each other, but pass each other with lowered eyes. 

In the bathroom, you splash cold water on your face and are about to bang your forehead against the porcelain of the sink. Until just now, the day had been wonderful. You met his wonderful family, had a fun evening and although you had a little slip-up this morning, Charles and you got on really well. Your friendship hasn't been tarnished and apparently you've been so good to each other that the Leclerc family think you're a couple. 

That's another thing you need to sort out. Between the two of you and definitely with his family. Even though you've only got to know the Leclercs properly since today, you've already grown fond of them and it doesn't feel right to fib to everyone. Above all, it doesn't feel right to Pascale, who has invited you into her home and insists that you spend Christmas with them. Pascale, who has such a big heart and didn't hesitate for a moment to take you into the family. 

It's not fair to her - even if a small part of you wants to keep things the way they are. Even if it doesn't reflect reality, the word girlfriend doesn't ring false in your ears. The thought of it makes you feel warm and somehow the blood tingles in your veins. 

You blame it on the long day you've had and the fact that you're too emotionally exhausted to put one and one together. How crazy would it be if you were actually Charles' girlfriend?

You immediately push the thought aside when you return to the bedroom and see Charles lying on the bed. He continues to scroll through his phone without looking at you and doesn't even glance at you as you slip under the covers on your side of the bed. 

You want to press your face into the pillow and scream, but you can't do that because it definitely wouldn't ease the tension in the air. You could also cry quietly to yourself, but Charles would notice even that. But you could also -

"Am I still getting the back massage?" Confused, you look over at your friend, who puts his cell phone aside and looks at you. He shrugs and then runs his hand through his hair. "You said I should just ask. And I thought I'd try my luck." His hand wanders over the comforter and when he finds yours, he intertwines your fingers. 

"Charles -" you begin, but you don't know how to finish the sentence. You're relieved that he doesn't take offense at your comment and wants to ease the situation by pretending nothing happened. You would love to kiss him for it. The thought sends a warm shiver down your spine.

"Sorry," Charles apologizes as he mistakes your awkwardness for hesitation. "It was a stupid idea. I just thought -"

"It's okay," you interrupt him and squeeze his hand, whereupon he squeezes back twice. "Apparently the stool was super uncomfortable. And friends help each other, don't they?" 

The Monegasque returns your gentle smile. "Friends help each other," he repeats, his gaze flickering briefly from your eyes to your lips and back again. " 'Um - should I take my shirt off? I think that would be smarter, don't you?"

Before you can say anything back, his hand disengages from yours and in one elegant movement he pulls the garment over his head and throws it to the other end of the bed. You watch the muscles in his back flex as he slides down the bed a little and lies on his stomach without hesitation, as if he can't wait another second. 

You have to strain to tear your gaze away from him. "I think I still have some body lotion somewhere." You quickly run back to the bathroom, where you spot the cream on the shelf next to the door, and sprint back to Charles, who has put his head in his hands and is smiling at you. You stand uncertainly in front of the bed, swaying from one foot to the other. "Where - I mean - how -?"

"Just sit on my legs," he says gently and pulls the blanket off him so that you can sit on top of him. "I think that's easier than from the side. Isn't it?"

"I - I don't know," you reply quietly and stop in your tracks. Of course, it would make more sense to sit astride his legs, but then you would also be sitting on him. And you definitely don't want things to get weird between you again. 

"Just sit down, please. I won't bite." Charles reaches out and grabs your hand to pull you towards him. He doesn't let go until you swing your leg over his and get comfortable on the back of his thigh. "See? It's not so bad, is it?"

You're glad he can't see how hard you're swallowing. The fine hairs tickle the soft skin on the inside of your thighs and heat shoots into your face as you slide your butt around to find the best possible position. When you finally find it, you remove the cap from the body lotion. "Careful, it might be a bit cold."

"It's okay, it can't be that bad - oh fuck!" Charles exclaims as you pour the contents of the bottle onto his back. Goosebumps immediately spread across his back and arms and you have to stifle your laughter. "Don't you dare laugh at me. My goodness, you could have warmed up the cream in your hand!"

"Sorry," you grin and close the bottle again before placing it on the bed next to your knee. "I thought it would be easier this way."

"It's definitely meaner," Charles replies, glancing over his shoulder at you. "You owe me a longer massage for that. At least half an hour." 

"No problem," you smile. You hope he doesn't notice your hesitation, because it takes a few seconds before your head commands your hands to rest on his broad back and spread the cream. With your fingers spread apart, you glide over his spine, his shoulder blades to his neck, where you feel the first lump under your fingertips. Slowly, but firmly, you press your thumb over the spot. 

And Charles moans shamelessly. "Fuck, that feels good." He closes his eyes as you continue to work on his neck. "I think you've missed your profession."

"You think so?" you ask softly. Your fingers glide to his hairline, his muscular neck and back over his shoulders. "Maybe I wouldn't be unemployed right now."

"I'd hire you in a heartbeat." As you press the side of his left shoulder blade with your thumbs, he exhales audibly. "Yeah, right there."

Smiling, you look at him before returning to your task. "I think you're too old for that stool. I'll sit on it next time."

"You're only saying that because you're hoping for a massage too." Charles' voice sounds rough and deep, completely relaxed. With his eyes closed, he enjoys your touch and misses you biting your lower lip. 

Your mouth goes dry at the thought of feeling his hands on your bare skin. You'd be only too happy to repeat this morning's incident if it meant that nothing would change between you. That you would remain friends. 

Nervously, you slide around on his legs. "Maybe."

You don't receive an answer. In comfortable silence, you run your hands over his back, pressing certain points in his muscles that make the Monegasque hum and moan softly. It's nice to know that he can let himself go with you and that you seem to be doing him good. 

Your hands wander down to the hem of his shorts and before you can really think about it, your thumbs slide just underneath so that you can massage the marks the shorts leave on his skin too. Charles takes a gasping breath and for a moment you think you've gone a step too far, but Charles doesn't even open his eyes as he speaks. 

"I miss this."

You tilt your head, even though he's not looking at you. "What do you mean?"

"Being touched," he answers your question quietly.

You pull your fingers out from under the hem and let them glide over his spine. "We touch each other."

Charles lets out a sigh. "I know. But - I don't know." His mouth twists into a thin line. "That's something else."

"Explain it to me." 

"It's been months since I've touched anyone, or vice versa. And I'm not talking about friendly touching. What we do," he explains. You don't know why your heart tightens as if it has heard bad news. 

Your fingers trail over his shoulders and then down his arm. Goosebumps spread under your fingertips. "Okay."

"Not that I don't think it's nice," he tries to get his act together. "I love it when I hold your hand or when we cuddle in bed. That's not even up for debate." When your fingers reach his wrist, he grabs them and squeezes them twice. "I don't know how to describe it." 

"What exactly do you mean by 'touch'?" you try to draw him out. "I mean, apparently there must be a difference between what you mean and what we do."

Charles shrugs and lets go of your hand so you can continue. "I miss having my hair played with. Or having my legs rubbed." Lying down, he runs his hand through his hair once, "I don't know."

You chew the inside of your cheek. "Do you mean - I don't know - like more intimate touching?" When you hear yourself say that, you try to turn it around again. "I mean - I'm not talking about sex. But rather that emotional connection? That you feel close to someone and touching them, like playing with your fingers or rubbing your arms, feels different?"

Charles turns his head in your direction so he can look at you. "I miss being touched more intimately. I really crave it." He turns under you so that he is now lying on his back. He leans on his elbows. You don't know where to put your hands, which is why you hold them strangely in the air. You try to fix your gaze on his face, but it flickers briefly to his abs. Something that doesn't escape Charles' notice. "What about you?"

"What about me?" 

"My relationship went down the drain months ago. It's obvious I'm touch starved." He sits up straight and reaches for your hands, placing them tentatively and hesitantly on his chest. "I can't stop thinking about this morning."

You can feel his heart beating under your palm and there's a sparkle in his beautiful green eyes. "We're friends," you state the obvious. The one you agreed on. 

Charles nods. "And I don't want that to change either. I really don't." He exhales and you feel his warm breath on your face. "But don't you miss it? Being touched? Being touched intimately?"

As he licks his lips, your brain shuts down for a moment. "I've never - I don't - I -" you stumble over your words and heat rushes to your cheeks. You don't know why you're confiding in him. You don't know why your hands are wandering from his chest up to his shoulders. The only thing you can feel is Charles' arm around you, pulling you closer to him. His one leg slides between yours so that you're sitting on his bare thigh. You just hope he can't feel your arousal pooling in your shorts.

"Mon amour," he whispers and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear with his other hand. From there, his fingers glide along the soft skin of your neck, over your collarbone, along your arm, until your fingers intertwine again. "Your shorts are pretty thin." He leans forward slightly and lays a feather-light kiss on your neck. You blow all the fuses. "I can feel you dripping for me. Let me help you." His hand settles on your hip and gently he pushes you back a little on his leg, but only to pull you forward again. Electricity shoots through your veins as you moan shamelessly into his face. "Friends help each other. All you have to do is say yes."

Something primal flares in his eyes as he brings your hand to his mouth and places his lips on your knuckles. A gentle gesture that is in complete contrast to how you feel inside. Fire blazes under your skin, heat coursing through your whole body as he places your hand against his cheek, then presses a kiss to your palm. "Nothing changes," you murmur, to which Charles nods. 

"Nothing changes," he confirms. "We stay friends." His hands slowly slide under your bottom, under the hem of your shorts. You feel his hot skin on yours as he rocks you back and forth on his thigh. "I promise."

Your crotch rubs against his leg with such relish and when the hem of your shorts catches on your clit, you burn out all your fuses. "Yes."

Charles' lips find your neck as his hands cup your ass and guide you over his leg. With your mouth open and your eyebrows furrowed, you dig your fingers into his shoulder blades. Pleasure pulses through your body as his mouth moves over your neck, sucking lightly on the thin skin but not lingering long enough to leave a mark. Each kiss is gentle, the complete opposite to his grip on your ass and the way he rubs you over him. 

"Charles." Your voice is little more than a sigh and you think you can feel his raging boner against your leg, but the thought quickly fades as one of his hands pulls away from you. Instantly you miss his touch, his skin on yours, but before you can do anything, his fingers reach into your hair to gently pull your head back. 

"I'm here, mon amour," he breathes against the newly won space on your neck. Gently, he sucks where your pulse is, and you think you feel his teeth against your skin for a moment. "I'm here."

You don't know where to put your hands, so you just use them to press his face closer to you. You feel his tongue at the point where your neck meets your shoulder and arch towards him. "Please."

You don't know what you're asking for, but Charles knows all the better for it. He rocks you over his leg, which is wet and slippery from your arousal, and as your knee gently bumps against his cock, he moans into your ear. 

Absently, your hands disengage from his hair and scrape down his chest to the hem of his shorts, but before you can go an inch further, his thumb and forefinger curl around your wrists. "Mon amour, today is about you," he murmurs, kissing your cheek as he notices your disappointed look. "Don't pout. Otherwise we'll stop here and now." 

You move over his thigh on your own and, without taking the chance, you nudge his boner again with your knee. "But you said -" you begin, but Charles lets go of your hands, only to hold them behind your back. 

"Nuh-uh." His lips find their place against your collarbone. Apparently he notices that you close your eyes, because his free hand rests gently against your throat. "Look at me, mon amour." His voice is no more than a gasp as you open your eyes and look up at him pleadingly. You want him closer, want to feel his lips on yours, his cock splitting you in half. You want him to ruin you for any other men.

You approach the cliff, willing yourself to plunge down it, but when you close your eyes again, Charles merely presses your lap against his leg, preventing you from moving any further. You look at him in shock. "Charles."

"Fuck, I love it when you say my name." He holds you tight, chest to chest, and you try to move somehow, to rub against him. And he lets you. His hand loosens from your wrists while the other continues to rest on the column of your throat, but doesn't squeeze. "Look at me, mon amour," he repeats to himself, shamelessly sliding his hand inside your shorts so he can cup your ass. With one final movement, he pulls you forward, the hem of your shorts rubbing perfectly over your swollen bundle of nerves and white lightning flashes through your veins. "Look at me when you come for me."

And you do.

[talaok]

Like a Virgin

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

summary: It's been a really long time since Joel has felt the feel of anything else besides his own fist, and once you remind him how good the real thing is... let's just say it's hard for him to live up to his full potential.

warnings: smut| unprotected p in v sex, premature ejaculation, very touch-starved Joel, and allusion to oral sex (f receiving)

a/n: I don't know what to say lmao this is a thing for me ok, don't judge (and also you can't tell me this isn't accurate, like this man hasn't gotten laid since the moon landing probably, and you expect him to last? no way babe). Also I'm sorry about the title it's funny to me lol

Now this wasn't like him.

He hadn't done this in a long time.

The last time he had sex with a woman he'd just met (or any woman to be completely honest) he was 25 years younger and the world hadn't gone to shit yet... so yeah, a long time indeed.

But you were so fucking beautiful, such a pretty face with such pretty eyes, and god but that mouth of yours-

And plus you were new to Jackson, you didn't know yet about all the scary stories folks liked to tell about him, and you were kind and funny, and... did he mention hot already?

Just one night of letting loose, that's what he'd told himself, and then he was gonna go back to his old closed-off self, but for now... for now, he was too busy throwing you on his bed to think about anything else.

You were getting rid of your clothes and he followed your lead more than willingly, almost ripping the buttons off his flannel in the rush.

He bent down to kiss your neck as his hands hurried to your tits.

God, he'd forgotten how good it felt to touch a woman.

And when you let out a little whimper, he swore he had ascended to another universe.

"Joel please"

Fuck him, but he wasn't inside of you yet, and he was already feeling far too close to coming.

Guess fucking his own fist for two decades really does something to a man.

"need something?"

He was acting wayy too smug for someone who was feeling like a virgin all over again.

"Please- I need you inside me, Joel"

fucking damnit- he shouldn't have asked that, his dick was now really suffering the consequences.

He didn't risk saying anything else as he got rid of his boxers, but of course, you just had to come out and say:

"oh wow, you're big" with the sexiest fucking voice he'd ever heard.

"want me to stop?"

For some reason, those words elicited a criminally hot smirk on your lips  

"Definitely not"

You were looking at him like a starving woman and he had to look down to where he was moving his tip to your entrance to get away from you and your dangerous, dangerous gaze

He pushed into you slowly and god fucking damnit but the sounds that you made... those sweet little moans and whines you let out as your warm pussy stretched around him and hugged him better than anything he'd felt in years... he had no words for it- no coherent sounds could make it out of his mouth except for a few groans coming deep from his chest.

"Good christ"

that's the only thing he managed to murmur as he bottomed out and had to take a break to try not to bust his load right there.

"fuck you feel so good" you moaned, as your hands gripped his sheets "please move" you begged, your voice breathy and pleading, and godfuck he should have really thought about it before doing this.

"Joel please-"

"I just need a moment darlin'" he explained, closing his eyes to try and remember how he used to manage to last and coming up completely empty.

He could feel your expectant eyes on him so even if he sure as hell didn't feel ready, he did as you asked and started to move.

The regret reached him extraordinarily fast as he felt your walls tightening around him and as you cried out for him like an angel sent straight from heaven.

"fuck-" you moaned, looking up at him with doe eyes that made him wonder if you really just knew what you were doing, if you actually enjoyed torturing him like this

"god you're so deep"

Yeah, you definitely knew

"and so big-" you cried

He gripped your waist to try and ground himself as he thrusted into your fucking perfect cunt.

"oh my god-yes!" you moaned, your back arching from the bed as his thrust got harsher in the hopes that that would make you talk less.

"just like that Joel- oh-" 

And Joel was tough in a lot of ways and he wasn't one to give up easily, but shit you were making it hard for him.

"Please don't stop- fuckfuckfuck" you begged, shutting your eyes close at the feeling.

And that was it, he couldn't do it anymore

"please stop talking" he breathed, his eyes resuming their tour of your eyes, mouth, and bouncing tits.

"why?" 

"nothing it's just-"

And before he could answer you had grabbed his shoulder and forced him to bend down to meet your mouth with his.

Goddamnit.

"you just feel too good Joel" 

"fuck." he groaned, not able to stop his hips from moving no matter how much he wanted to "shit"

"what is it?"

"Jesus Christ I-"

"is there something wrong?"

"n-no just- fuck I'm sorry sweetheart"

And that's all he could say as he abruptly pulled out of you, his spend covering your stomach not even a second after as he growled so loud his neighbors probably thought he was getting killed.

"shit" again, he sighed, his forehead falling to your shoulder.

"oh" you couldn't help but smile as everything came together

"I'm sorry darlin'" he breathed, leaning away and standing up as shame filled every inch of him.

"It's just- It's been a long time since I've done... this"

You sat up, your legs still dangling off the bed, as you admired his handy work on your belly.

"And you... you're just real fucking pretty" he huffed a half-laugh "I'm sorry"

You looked up at him then, meeting his mortified expression.

"No hey" you smiled, placing a hand on his torso "It's fine, I understand"

"god this is embarrassing, I feel like a sixteen-year-old all over again" he shook his head

"stop" you cooed, gently caressing his skin, as a mischievous spark lighted in your irides "It's fine, really" you promised, "and besides..." you bit your bottom lip as you slowly spread your legs "you could still make it up to me, y'know?"

He groaned again, falling to his knees between your thighs

"that I can do"

[salsakiyoomi]

Hmm, how would drummer Sukuna react to finding out reader had sex with someone else?

a/n : this idea has been nagging me for a while and this is my excuse to write it now

sukuna's heart almost stops.

it almost stops as he watches you walk out one of the most famous fuckboy's dorm, in your clothes yes, but looking disheveled, with hair that's definitely been tugged on and hickeys covering your neck, and a manly cologne that was most definitely neither his or yours. 

what was the meaning of this? why did he have to be here at this exact moment to see you like that?

your eyes catch his and you're wondering whether you should talk to him or not.

probably not.

so you clear your throat and you turn the other way, as if he wasn't standing right in front of you.

he’s shocked, because how could you?

“y/n.” he calls out, his voice stern but you don't acknowledge him, he doesn't know what's up with you this time, whether you're mad at him or the other dude has gotten to you.

all he knows is that he doesn't like you ignoring him and he's not sure why.

he shouldn’t care.

sukuna trudge over to you, grabbing your arm and forcing you to look at him, “i called for you.” he tells you, a scowl on his face — why were you avoiding him like that? he hasn't fucked up that bad yet — i mean, sure, the both of you haven't been hanging out much and it was a month since you last had sex but still.

“what do you want?” you ask, you still won't meet his eyes, avoiding them like they're the plague — but most of all, you seem nonchalant, too nonchalant.

“what's the meaning of this?” he asks and he can't tear away his eyes from the hickeys adorning your neck and probably other places as well — only he can leave those marks on you, nobody else.

it doesn't sit well with him that somebody else, especially a fucking fuckboy who practically lives in the frat house, having his hands all over you in that way, his lips on yours, on your skin, his body against your and —

sukuna doesn't want to think about it.

you scoff, rolling your eyes, and you tear your arm away from his grip, crossing your arms, “the meaning of what, ryomen?”

“the meaning of this.” he almost seethes, gesturing to the marks on you, “what's this about?” 

“what, like you care?” you say, and this time, you meet his gaze, and he’s not sure if he likes the defiant look in your eyes.

does he care? of course he does. otherwise he wouldn't have been fucking you for this long.

“of course i do.” he huffs, but it comes out quiet and almost meek.

of course he cares about you — he doesn't like you sleeping around with other people, you were supposed to be his.

“well, you shouldn't,” you tell him, the frown on your face prominent, “we're not exclusive after all, are we?”

fuck. 

he knew that that would come back to bite him in the ass, and now was the time.

it's true, in the past year the two of you have been sleeping around, sukuna has made it painfully clear that this was nothing more than just sex and having fun for the sake of it — you've nagged him about it more than once, you didn't like him sleeping with other girls either but it's not like he ever stopped.

sukuna didn't do love, never has, and never will.

but now, your words really hurt him.

at his stretched silence you sigh, turning away from him, “later, ryomen.” you call out as you walk away from him.

and he's left all alone in the hallway with a heavy heart.

jealousy wasn't a thing he's ever felt before, and it didn't sit well with sukuna.

[reverieblondie]

I already sent this thought to someone, but I think you might like it, too!

Tiefling bachelors accidentally scratching up the surfaces they were bracing their hands on while engaged in a moment of carnal passion with his partner, like not small superficial scratches, I mean his claws left gouge marks. Imagine he is all nervous/embarrassed about it only for his partner to inform him that is actually incredibly hot.

I look forward to seeing your thoughts (if you desire to share them).

A/N: This took me forever! But I loved every second it was so fun! these scenario ones are always my favorites! I love love the Tiefling bachelors but I wanted to add some of my moots OCs that I love. We have Kieran from @dark-and-kawaii wonderful mind (thank you for the screenshot and thank you for making this man I am obsessed!) We also have Syvaris who I instantly fell for when I saw him on the discord server made by @tealfling (He is so dreamy and I am so happy for @faerunsbest oc Dwylla for snatching up that tall man, also thank you for the photo to use!) Hope you enjoy its all 18+! MDNI!

Rolan

"Your... A- Ah~ Annoying,  you know that?" Rolan growls in your ear as his claws dig into the sides of your thighs. All you can manage is a breathy giggle that turns into a whine as he pushes into your wet core deeper. The ridges stretch you as he sinks deeper, Rolan's brows are furrowed, and his eyes shut tight as he feels you clench on his cock like a vise. "So…so… tight… per-perfect," his voice mumbles as he gets lost in the feeling. This is a far cry from how he was acting earlier, you had been bothering him all day with countless pointless questions, touching his arms and hands, then acting oh so innocent about it. The last straw had been when you barged into his office and sat on his desk, hiking up your dress to show just a teasing hint of your thighs, of course, in an effort to interrupt his oh-so-important studies. Rolan was definitely taking out some built up frustrations when he finally broke. Grabbing you by your waist, Rolan pushes you down on the desk and finally kisses you; it is desperate, hungry, and completely perfect. You didn't think Rolan was ever going to stop kissing you, not until he started talking about how you drive him crazy. Now, here you lay back on the desk as Rolan's long nails scratch his oak desk, and he ruts in, bouncing you to take an inch deeper with every thrust. The pleasure of the stretch is overwhelming, and then there's the sight of him over you, his golden eyes shining, and the way his hair hangs down; he is completely enthralling. You should have bothered him to this point months ago... "Rolan... you're perfect." Your sweet praise rings in Rolan's ears, making him scratch his nails deeper down his desk. You feel his tail thrashing around till it's gripping your leg like a vice; all you can keep doing is gripping his tough skin, singing his praises, making his cock throb, and you too keen further. Rolan, fueled by your praise, loses himself in you as he lifts his foot on top of the desk angling his cock to hit against your G-spot in mind-numbing bliss. Rolan's own praise continues to switch from common to infernal as he desperately chases both of your orgasms. He's been pinning for months, and now that he has you, he's desperate to please you. When he finally pushes you to that edge, it's intense. Once you have both come down from your orgasms, Rolan's face is flushed from more than just the 'workout.' He's avoiding eye contact even as you try to ask him what the matter is. "Was it me?" you finally muster as you feel your chest sinking. Rolan turns to you quickly, holding your naked body close to his, "It's me… I was… unhinged… you probably-" you cover his mouth with your fingers, causing him to become quiet, "You were perfect… Rolan, truly perfect." Rolan looks at his sharp nails and ruined desk, "It didn't scare you?" You lean in closer to his lips, "Only excites me…"  

Hours later, Lia brought up Rolan a late dinner (considering he had missed it earlier doing whatever). When she knocked on the door, she could have sworn she had heard hissing whispers and something being shoved. Rolan answers the door out of breath but uncharacteristically cheerful; it was suspicious... Lia looks around and sees large gashes on his desk and on his study walls. "What happened here?" She says, placing the tray down on the ruined desk; Rolan stumbles about clearing his throat till picking up a tome (one of many on the floor), "I was working on a difficult spell." Lia looks around, "I guess it's one hell of a spell…" Before she can further look around, Rolan is thanking her for the food and pushing her out. Must be very eager to get back to his work… 

Zevlor

The first thing he asked you when you came into the storage room was if anyone saw you sneak in after him. The Second question he asked you as he walked towards you from the darkness, his fiery eyes locked on yours, was if you could keep quiet." Of course "was what you promised Zevlor, and of course, at that time, you had meant it… but now that your legs are wrapped around his textured waist and his thick cock is ramming in and out of you, bouncing you against the supply shelf, you're finding it difficult not to scream his name. Zevlor is also finding it equally as difficult not to moan your name as yours as you take him in so well, your tight warmth practically sucking him in deeper as your slick walls flutter around him. Your nails bite into his shoulders with every roll of his hips. Zevlors breath is hot and heavy against your neck, his teeth threatening to bite your delicate skin as he presses sloppy kisses against you. It all just riles you up more, rolling your hips to meet his thrust pushing his hot cock to sink in deeper, nudging that sensitive spot in your cunt, forcing you to see stars. A deep groan rips from Zevlors throat as your cunt quivers on his cock with a rush of your arousal squirting onto his abdomen. In an attempt to keep himself quiet, he bites into your skin while his hands claw up and tear at the supply shelves, even forcing some things to fall and crash to the ground as his hips move erratically to chase his high. Later, he will embarrassingly apologize for acting like an animal, but you just kiss his lips and say you want to see that passion again. 

You're trying not to blush as the rest of the caravan's refugees look at the ruined shelves and materials marked by claws. When Zevlor finally shows up from being called, he gives a simple answer: "Animals must have gotten in and messed around," he says, trying to hide his smile. You promised that your rondeau tonight would happen outside the grove so you could be as loud as you like.

Cal

You could have had anyone you wanted at the party; as the hero of the hour, everyone was trying to catch your attention, but you picked him out, and Cal couldn't be happier. Cal almost feels like he can't breathe as you kiss his neck before running your tongue over his ears. You giggle as his tail twists and sways erratically, his clawed hands holding tightly onto your bedroll, carefully trying not to rip it. Cals is trying so hard not to lose control, but little does he know that's exactly what you're after. Cal has always been so sweet and strong… All you want him to do is to let go and finally release all that built-up tension. So after much soft teasing with sweet whispered desires, you reward when Cal finally snaps, taking you in his arms and kissing you like he's never going to see you again. You, of course, were soft to start… but your want can make you ravenous as Cal's hands ran over your body; of course, it led to you stripping him in a fever, eager to feel his hot hands all over your skin, caressing your sides, teasing your inner thighs, and twisting your breast… You just couldn't help it anymore when you finally pushed him down to sink onto his girth. Cal's clawed hands rip fistfuls of your bedroll apart as you bounce on his cock; he eagerly matches your pace with his hips ramming up into your wet cunt, making your eyes roll in ecstasy. Your sweet Cal looks up at you with half-lidded eyes concentrating on your pleasure, he wants to please you, and when you bring his hand to circle your clit he's in bliss. Your cunt clenches down harder on his thick cock, making a growl rip from his throat as he tries not to cum too quickly.  But then you start begging… begging for him to cum inside and claim you as his. With a moan and a loud tear, you feel him cum in hot spurts that make you desperate for more of him. Later, Cal will be so embarrassed and nervous about ripping up your bedroll; of course, he offers to give you his, but you just smirk, "I don't mind it all ripped up; it's a good reminder of you for the road."  

The next day, as you're packing up your things, still feeling quite melancholy about the tiefling departure, you're about to pack up your ruined bedroll when a clearing of a throat causes you to turn. It's Halsin, and in his hands, he has a bedroll. You look at him confused, and he just smiles. "Heard from a blushing young man that you needed a new one." Of course, Cal wouldn't leave you with a ruined one. During your small reverie of thinking about Cal, Astarion walks past with a smirk, "Hope it's claw proof, that or get that teif some claw covers for next time." 

Dammon

His forked tongue licks at your dripping sweat as it rolls down your throat. Dammon pins you against the back wall as one hand holds your hips as the other keeps him steady leaning you both steady. His weight presses against your body as his thick cock stretches you open. Your hands and legs wrap tightly around him as he fucks you in the back of the forge. You had been so needy and couldn't wait for him to take you upstairs, you needed him now. So thus leading to you two tangled together in the back of the shop. You're both nude and sweating as the forge fire roars. As you chant his name Dammons pace gets rougher, his cock slamming in so deep you begin to see stars. Feeling your tight warmth starting to clench on his cock has his mind going blank. First, you feel his sharp nails on your hip pierce your skin, then you hear the scratching down the stone wall as his hips get faster, the pace getting sloppier but never relenting. Dammon always knows how to give you exactly where you need it every time. His breathing is rough and shallow in your ear before he lets out a dark growl, "Cum on my cock. So I can fucking fill you..." Dammon is rarely so demanding, but you just can't help yourself when he is. Dammon comes to bed later rather quietly… when you ask him about it, he says he's embarrassed for getting so rough, when will he learn that's your favorite…

The customer looks at the back of the forge's wall, tilting his head at the scratches all over the stones. "What happened to your back wall?" Dammon flushes, stammering before you come and place a hand on the small at his back, calming him. "Just your typical late night at the forge. Nothing to worry about."

Kieran

He smiles down at your blissed-out face, "Feels good, doesn't it, bunny?" All you can manage to do is to open your mouth and whine as his cock keeps punching against your cervix, brushing your smooth, slick walls with the hard ridges of his cock. Kieran smirks down at you, so malleable for him; he hicks your legs up further, forcing your knees up to your face, successfully folding you in half. "You're so full you can't even think right now, huh?" You urge yourself to answer, but with the added heat of his body slamming onto you is leaving you in a lustful daze. You end up just grabbing his shoulders, digging your nails further into his flesh, practically threatening to make him bleed, "Please…" Your pleading is music to his ears as he pounds you harder, his nails not only ripping through the wooden headboard but ripping your skin in the process. The sharp feeling is quickly dulling into toe-curling pleasure as Kieran continues to fuck you at a rough pace. "Please… Please!" you continue to breathe as you quench down on his cock, causing him to groan in your ear, "Oh bunny, you don't even know what you're begging for, do you?" Kieran rolls his hips at an agonizingly slow pace making your eyes cross as his tail finds your clit. "What would your boyfriend think of you now? Begging like a whore for another man's cock in his bed nonetheless…" you hardly hear his taunting words as you cling to him, babbling as his nails continue to carve into you; if you didn't know any better, you would think he's carving his initials… "poor bastard just didn't know how to treat you…" Kieran grabs your hips and starts to bounce you in his cock, smiling at how you come undone for him so easily. Honestly, Kieran is not remorseful in the least for scratching everything up. 

Your boyfriend stumbles into your shared bedroom and pauses when he sees the bed broken and everything else he owns ripped to shreds. He looks around, perplexed until he sees a letter waiting on the broken nightstand. "Sorry about the bed. Try finding something more durable. Also, I took the girl." - K.E. 

Syvaris

Syvaris was just expecting to take a nice refreshing dip… but he hadn't expected to be interrupted during his wash in the river. Syvaris had a feeling he was being watched, it was only confirmed when he stopped his meditation to see you peeking at him from behind a tree. You, the same sweet little thing he had helped save earlier that day spying on him…, and he couldn't find it in himself to mind, especially when it's someone so pretty like you acting so naughty. All Syvaris had to do was wave his hand to beckon you closer, "care to join me?" was all he said to get you to strip bare for him and join him in the crisp waters. It was clear you were wanting this just like he was. The coolness of the water made you feel a shiver throughout your body; it was short-lived. However, as you swam closer, he wrapped his warm arms around you, bringing you to his lap. Syvaris chuckled as he let you roam your hands over his wide chest. A passionate make-out followed where he prepped you with his long fingers in your wet cunt. The next thing you knew in the lust-filled blur was him having switched your positions to have your back pushed against a rock as he stretched your cunt taut, and he sunk into your warmth. Syvaris seemed determined to ruin you for any man after him with the way he rammed into you. Syvaris continued to shower you in praise as his lips caressed your sweat-laced skin, and with every kiss, every whisper, every thrust that threatened to go straight to your womb, your pussy fluttered and gripped him like a vise. Such a sweet little thing… he promises to come back for you when his journey is over, but for now he wants to stay in this moment for as long as he can, holding tight to you as he digs his claws into the rock holding you as he fills you with his cum. You won't be able to forget him… especially not when you're going to be leaking him for days…

You are stuck in your reverie as you look out into the cool waters. You were meant to be down here to wash laundry in the stream, but when you look in the distance, you see that same place where you shared your night with your hero. Syvaris had left with a promise to return, and you knew deep down it was true… but you still worried…. "Are those bear scratches?" one of the girls with her own basket says in shock, part of you has half a mind to confess… but you keep Syvaris and your secret tight to your chest. 

[bitter-me]

Flustered Biker Boy

Lighter | M. Reader

----------

Based on one of his Trust Events, where he got flustered/shy from being called handsome. So I took it and multiplied it by three.

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"The Red Scarf," "the Undefeated Champion," "the Champion of the Sons of Calydon."

So many titles just for one man. He must be a legend if people speak of him in such a way. Someone that could be considered as a myth. So surreal that there's no way someone like him truly exists. It's impossible to think one person has the ability fight at least 50 men. Alone. All at once. And emerge victorious.

Yet it's all true. That man does exist and that man...

Is currently trying to hide his face with his scarf.

[Name] laughs at Lighter's reaction. He had just called him handsome and he's already so flustered? Is this the same Champion they talk about in the Outer Ring? But hey, he's not complaining. It's cute~

"Is something wrong? Your face is red." To see Lighter's face slowly rivaling the red of his scarf is a sight to behold. A sight.. only for him to see. Oh what privilege.

Lighter didn't respond. Instead he just cleared his throat. "Anyways.." He tries to act all cool and suave. As if being called handsome earlier didn't affect him in such a way which only earned him another laugh from [Name].

----------

Hanging out with Lighter had always been a joy. Despite his appearance and the whispers about him. He's quite the character. A man of power who sometimes has a childish streak. Someone who can play along and have fun but act all serious when the situation demands it. Who wouldn't love someone like that? Someone from the Outer Ring?

"Oh, they have a couple discount on the milk tea." [Name] thought out loud the moment he read the sign in front of the store. With a cheeky grin he glances over at Lighter and instantly links his arms around the other, making a B-line to the store.

Lighter was about to ask what's wrong only to be cut off by [Name]'s next words. "Excuse me, we like to take the couple discount, please."

Heat instantly makes its way onto Lighter's face. He originally thought that they were in some kind of danger. That someone was stalking them and planning to strike, which is why [Name] linked their arms like that. Trying to lead both of them to safety or something, but no. He was wrong. There wasn't some bad guy for him to fight. No, this is a different fight. A battle against..

..Economy.

Oh the things they do for a discount.

Meanwhile [Name] is extremely happy with himself. They've gotten milk tea for half the price and saw Lighter trying to hide his flustered face by drinking his milk tea.

What a great day to be alive.

----------

In this quality time of theirs. The two decided to go to the Outer Ring. So far [Name] had always suggested something in New Eridu, making excuses that Lighter should learn a few things about the city. But this time it was his turn to learn about the Outer Ring with Lighter as his guide.

But of course, time flies by fast when you're having fun.

Getting off of the bike [Name] stretched out his limbs with a groan. He had nearly forgotten how long the ride was from the Outer Ring to New Eridu. However it was more than worth it.

"You know, I had fun today." He began slowly before planting a small kiss on Lighter's cheek and pulls away with a cheeky grin. "See you later, biker boy." And with that he went straight towards the front door. Leaving an obviously red Lighter alone on his bike.

The red scarf had always suited him. Making him quite the eye candy. But a red face would definitely make him ten times more handsome.

[socksracoon10]

p2 where the argument turns into a makeout sesh yes or yes?

𝐇𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐮𝐧 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐)

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: (𝘠/𝘕) (𝘓/𝘕) 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘫𝘰𝘣 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯… 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴? Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr. x F!Reader, Charles Leclerc x F!Reader, Max Verstappen x F!Reader A/N: I AM SO HAPPY SOMEONE ASKED FOR A PART 2 BECAUSE THAT'S ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT SINCE I POSTED THE FIC YESTERDAY... anon thank you I was over here giggling and kicking my feet reading your ask... uh halfway through writing this I realized I got carried away it's MUCH longer than I intended LMFAO Read The First Part: Hit and Run

𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙤𝙨 𝙎𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙯 𝙅𝙧.

"Hey man, next time you race try not to kill the other drivers," (Y/N) (L/N) sunk down into the P3 chair next to Sainz, who had just won the race. He glanced over at her with a scowl, clearly wanting to say some nasty things if it wasn't for the million cameras in the cooldown room. She shifted in her seat, stretching her arms as she watched the race's highlights on the screen besides her. Carlos and her both had a spectacular race, considering they had started from the bottom of the grid more or less. She knew she had the skills to get to the podium, but she was surprised at the fact that Carlos had managed to somehow win the race from nowhere. It didn't seem like his normal self and she wondered what could've motivated him to actually drive good for once.

"Next time you race, try not to be cocky and drag other drivers down," Carlos grumbled, his voice was muffled due to the rag that was currently soaking up all of the sweat on his face. She glared at him, holding an accusatory finger to the air before Max had settled down in the P2 chair. He shook Carlos's hand, before waving at (L/N). The room was silent, spare Max rambling on about what he saw during the race. As Max continued to talk, (L/N)'s eyes flickered occasionally onto Carlos, wondering what was going through his mind. She was definitely in the wrong, but her ego wouldn't handle that and she needed to tear him a new one once they were done with all the celebrations. She always hated this circuit anyway.

"She's not supposed to be here, mate," Charles giggled, jerking his thumb towards the woman that was angrily storming into Ferrari's garage. Carlos looked up from where he sat with a groan escaping his lips.

"She isn't," Carlos stood up, taking the cap off his head to run a hand through his hair, "I suppose you've come to apologize for your behavior this weekend? Or last weekend? Or the many weekends before that?" "Apologize?" (L/N) snorted, rolling her eyes, "I've come to ask about what you said at the press pen!"

Charles, sensing the tension between the two, gently ushered the two into Carlos's driver's room before shutting the door. The last thing Ferrari needed after this lovely weekend was to deal with the drivers having to go through PR training once again, especially with the amount of times Carlos had been talking shit about (Y/N) (L/N). Carlos had stood by the door, arms crossed as he gestured with his hands for her to begin whatever stupid argument she had managed to pull out of her ass this time.

"You remember what you said?" She growled, and when she saw him shake his head, her nostrils flared, "You literally told the press, 'sometimes, I like to put people in the places they belong and that's precisely what I did with (L/N)', are you kidding me?"

"You should be happy," Carlos scoffed, "I could've said way worse. Besides, I was giving you a taste of your own medicine. You said after qualifying yesterday that even with a million practices, I'd still fumble."

"Yeah, because you do! You're inconsistent as hell and that's why-"

"And yet who won the race today starting behind you." Carlos interrupted her. She closed her mouth, chest heaving. Carlos could see the gears turn in her head, she was trying so hard to come up with something. He had a smug smile on his face and somehow this was more victorious than winning the Grand Prix.

"It doesn't matter if you win today or not, you won't be driving for Ferrari soon, anyway," She spat. She smirked at the way his face fell, her arms crossed with her head tilted upwards. That cocky look on her face that always drove him wild.

"You're such an asshole," Carlos seethed, and before she could respond with a snarky remark, his lips crashed onto her. His hands came to hold onto the sides of her face, pulling her as close to him as he could. He pulled away for a brief second to take a quick breath and noticed the way her eyes widened, "Did you just kiss me? Listen here buddy, I'll have you know that-" Her words died down when she noticed Carlos's eyes flicker to her lips. God, her absolute hatred for him made her forget how charming he truly was. She wouldn't admit to it, though. Not now nor ever. Right now, all they needed was to blow off this steam. She grabbed onto his neck, pulling him down to another searing kiss, eyes closed as their teeth crashed into one another. She tugged his hair and he squeezed her waist, both of them realizing that feelings may not exist at the moment, it was all about just shutting each other up.

"I hate you," She murmured before going in for another kiss.

"I hate you more," His lips attached to her neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses that were sure to bruise her.

"Well, I hate you the most, stop trying to be better than me." She snapped in a strained voice and he groaned out loud, pulling back to stare at her,

"How much money do I have to pay for you to shut up?"

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙇𝙚𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙘

Charles didn't win the next race, unfortunately. He was a bit happy that he didn't DNF, but the fact that the winner of the race was none other than his sworn enemy did little to comfort him. He glanced over to Max who was at P2, and looked around to the room to make sure that rat wasn't lurking nearby.

"W-What was the gap between you and her?" Charles asked. He knew asking would literally do him 0 help, but he couldn't stop himself from wanting to know.

"I want to say around a good 20 seconds or so? Maybe a bit more, I wasn't too sure," Max responded, watching Charles sink deeper in his seat with a look of despair. He gulped, staring aimlessly onto the wall in front of him. How was she that fast? What had she done with the car overnight?

"I'm sorry for (Y/N) for the next few races," He heard her, loud and clear, as she entered the cooldown room, mocking him for what he said last weekend. Charles instantly glared at her, not even bothering to hide his true intentions. No amount of PR training could hide his disgust for her. She settled into her seat, relishing in the feeling of being the race winner.

"You do anything with your car?" Charles grunted, and she shook her head,

"No, no. I just have more skill," She flashed him a smile, before getting up once again to grab a bottle of water. Max, for once in his life, decided to be quiet in the room and see the argument follow through. He'd heard Charles tell him multiple times about how (L/N) got on his nerves, but seeing it in person would be amazing.

"I doubt that. You used to place below me during the races," Charles took a sip of his water.

"What are you insinuating then?" She snarled, and Max glanced over to the camera crew, signaling for them to leave. While this would do numbers for the ratings and news headlines, they were promised some share of money if they got their asses out.

"Um guys, I don't think we should be fighting, we have to cooldown anyway..." Max began, but his words fell onto deaf ears as Charles stood up from his seat to stalk over to where she stood.

"Maybe you'd be more likeable if you were honest with yourself, sometimes cheaters-" Charles began, standing his ground when she yelled back,

"So you think I cheated in this race? Seriously? That's your argument?"

"Well, we do know that last weekend there was water in your tires," Charles snapped,

"That wasn't my fault? Stop being such a sore loser, Leclerc. Maybe this is why you haven't won a championship yet."

Max's jaw dropped as he watched the words fly out of her mouth. Charles, in the meantime, tossed his water bottle to the ground and stepped closer to her with his finger in her face,

"At least I raced clean without losing grip when I tried to overtake someone. You just got lucky today, that's it."

"Luck, really? Yeah, tell me about your luck when you're fighting more with your teammate than with the other drivers on the grid during the race." She hissed.

Was it the air? Was it the fact that the adrenaline was still high after the race, or was it the fact that despite not being able to stand each other they were only centimeters apart. It didn't take long before Charles's hand dug into her scalp, pulling her head back ever so slightly as he kissed her. Seeing this as another challenge, (L/N) brought Charles down to the ground, both of them fighting to be on top while still furiously kissing each other. His hands gripped her waist and she had her arms around his neck, dragging him towards her as they rolled off of each other on the ground, tongues practically in each other's mouths with the intention of wanting to ruin each other. She scratched him, he yanked her hair, she punched his chest and he twisted her arm and yet their lips never stopped wanting to consume the other. It wasn't until (L/N) pulled away to breathe again did they both realize that Max was still there with a very shocked expression.

"I'm... I'm just going to leave and make sure uh no one else enters this room but uh guys you might want to... put yourself together before we get on the podium," Max had one hand covering his eyes as he walked out of the room.

"Do you think he's gonna tell people we just made out?" She asked, propping herself onto her elbows.

"I doubt it," Charles responded with a roll of his eyes, "I mean, who would go and loudly state that Charles Leclerc was kissing you of all people? I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy."

He winced when her hand smacked the back of his head.

𝙈𝙖𝙭 𝙑𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣

Max never forgot. He never forgot anything. He had made a promise to himself that he would wipe that smirk off her face and he intended to keep it. Even with all the setbacks that he was facing this particular weekend. Back to back penalties, a grip drop and on top of all this, a very haughty (Y/N) (L/N) purposely bumping into him on the paddock with a bright smile,

"Have fun! I've always wondered how the view from the back would look like for you," She chirped, speeding past him on a scooter. Max's jaw went taut, and he did little to hide his anger for the rest of the day. He was going to make sure that the race tomorrow would haunt her for the rest of her life. She had chosen the wrong person to mess with and he was determined to prove it to her.

Max was on a different level during the race, he was unbelievably fast and it surprised everyone but mainly (Y/N) (L/N).

Her radio went off, and someone buzzed through, "Max is currently at P6, he's coming up behind you."

"What the hell?" Her voice was a bit quiet, still in disbelief at the fact that Max was now right behind her, "How does he do this?"

And before she can react further, she sees him overtake her as he flashed his middle finger at her before speeding off. That got her going, and despite the radio telling her to calm down and control her motions, she began to chase after Max. Her ego was bruised but surely she could redeem herself. Unfortunately, she lost grip and her car went spiraling out of control towards the barriers.

"A safety car will be deployed soon, Max," GP informed the driver.

"Who crashed?"

"(Y/N) (L/N)."

Max couldn't help the giggle that escaped his lips, and to quote Alonso he merely stated, "Karma..." before turning his radio off for the rest of the race.

By the time all the celebrations were done, Max walked past (L/N)'s garage and he noticed the way she was pouting, legs crossed as she was busy texting somebody. Her fingers flew across the screen, and it almost looked like she was about to cry. Max did feel a bit bad for her, he knew she had worked to get to where she was - she was after all the only female driver on the grid so she was talented. He walked over to her in the best hopes that he could try to make her feel better, I mean he wasn't a monster.

"Oh, look who's here, the ugly ass sloth who can't mind his own business," She sneered, crossing her arms as she looked up at him. Yeah, that was it. Max didn't want to comfort her anymore, he was going to stoop down to her level.

"You know, maybe if you learned to shut your mouth and admit your mistakes, you could've actually done well in the race today." He scoffed, towering over her. She stood up, going back to texting her friend with a scowl on her face.

"Texting your mechanics to help salvage what's left of the car?" Max snorted.

"No, I'm texting my friend about how some douchebag keeps talking to me like I even asked for him. Like why the hell are you even here? Go back to your own garage, asshole." She snapped, pocketing her phone. Max threw his backpack onto the ground besides her and took a step forward,

"You know I was going to be nice to you-"

"You said Karma over the radio, I heard that shit clearly," She hissed, stepping closer as well.

"I said it in the moment, but right now I was going to be nice. I was going to comfort you. You are talented, you're not a shit driver like I said you were, but God... your ego. Your stubbornness. Your... your absolute pathetic move to shift the blame onto someone else for your wrong doings. Get over yourself, you don't know shit about your own car and yet you always blame me for something during the race!"

"My car is completely fine before you wrecked it!"

"Oh, so that DNF last weekend was my fault? You rammed into me! Let's not forget that!" Max yelled, glancing over to the new shiny car that would be in use next weekend.

"Oi, eyes on me," She snapped her fingers in his face, grabbing his jaw to turn it to her, "Don't stare at my winning car."

Max yanked her hand from his jaw, glaring at her. Oh, he hated her. He hated her so much. Even when he wanted to be nice to her, she always found a way to ruin it. How was it possible for a woman as beautiful and genuinely talented as her to somehow always end up as the most annoying, stuck-up little piece of shit that he had ever seen? Within seconds, he had her against her "amazing" car with his lips onto her. She gasped in surprise, eyes darting to the corner of the garage to make sure all the mechanics had left, but considering the way Max was making her melt in his kiss, her worries soon faded away. Max had one hand pressing her down against the car, her back hit the edge of the halo and she groaned in pain, causing her to arch into him as he deepened the kiss. Her hands came to grip onto his shoulders as she bit down on his bottom lip, and she could feel him smiling against her.

"I wish you were like this every weekend," He whispered, delving into another kiss. She wrapped her hand in his hair, tugging him gently away from her,

"I hope you realize this is a one time occurrence. I have standards," She smirked.

"They must be pretty low then like your racing skills," Max snapped, kissing her once more as he felt her smirk fade against his lips. He really did mean it when he said he was going to wipe it off her face, he just never imagined it to be in this way.

"Shut up," She mumbled, "Just shut up."

[jd-loves-fiction]

CONGRATS ON 1.3K !! for the event, could i have leona and when the time comes for him to choose between you or his arranged marriage partner and family ? tysm in advance :D

💐ANGST OH GOD!!! See if you spot the Lion king reference (hint: that scene when Scar’s playing with a mouse)

Second-born prince, whom you come upon, sleeping by a river and decide to recruit him to help you loot the royal palace. He agrees, solely out of spite for his brother… and hopefully to delay his arranged marriage. Which becomes even more of a problem the more time he spends with you…

❧ Wc: 1.2k

❧ How life could be

❧ He owes them nothing. No, less than nothing. Less than the dirt beneath his boot. 

How dare they force every decision upon him since his birth and then expect him to choose them once given the option to do so freely. Not a chance.

‘You’re my brother, I wouldn't want to force this onto you.’ Falena had told him. As if him preferring to act more as his king than his brother most days hadn't forced most things in his life onto him already.

Even if Falena didn't wish that, everyone else certainly made it clear they did.

Neji was very adamant in reminding Leona of all he hadn't done for his kingdom and how this was the perfect opportunity to make up for it.

As if he hasn't been trying to make himself useful all this time.

Fuck him. Him and the whole system that made this happen. If only he'd been born first…

“Look who wandered into my lair,” you greet him cheekily, barely taking note of the frustrated look on Leona’s face. Since your little heist you’d grown closer, but he mostly retained his sour demeanor, so you pay it little mind, “can’t get enough of me?”

He chuckles through a scoff, moving to mirror you by leaning on your open door frame, so close you can feel his tense huffs against your face, “I’d have no other reason to linger around these parts otherwise, now would I?”

“Oh, I don't know, you could be visiting your favorite girl!” Leona glances behind you at the courtyard behind your house, where a myriad of children play in the shade. Among them is a small beastgirl, no older than five and struggling to keep up with her larger peers, but no less entertained as them. When you’d returned from the palace with your loot, she’d immediately glued herself to his side, thanking him for helping you with large, watery eyes. “She’s been asking about you.”

He sighs, what the little girl saw in him, he can't imagine but it’s sweet nonetheless. “How’ve you been?”

A flash of surprise passes through your gaze, before you stretch in exaggerated exhaustion, “It’s been so tiring being the most popular person around – everyone wants to greet me in the morning, the kids wanna know how I did it… and then they start asking if you and I–”

What started off as a lighthearted joke unknowingly almost spiraled into a confession, before you smack your lips closed with a guilty look on your face. He definitely notices.

“‘If you and I…?” Leona leans even closer, eyes glinting like jewels in the midday sunlight, breath hot against your lips just like that night, hiding in a closet from the palace guards… that night you haven't been able to stop thinking about.

“You know…” You look down, confidence gone in a second when faced with such an intense gaze. Leona reaches to grasp your face to make you look back at him, but he stops himself, why does he feel this way? This should be an easy decision!

At his silence, you look up at him again, eyes lingering on the furrow of his brows, the downwards curve of his lip, the shiftiness of his eyes, “Is everything alright?”

He looks off to the side, “No, very little is, in fact.”

“Wanna talk about it?” In the back of your mind is the insidious little thought of your uselessness when it comes to matters of royalty, but it doesn't hurt to try. Clearly, having someone who actually listens to his troubles is enough for Leona.

“...Not here.” He relents, looking around for a less obvious spot for trading such secrets. 

Without another word, you grab onto his wrist, pulling him up the stairs to your bedroom, the only room in the house with an actual door. You pointedly ignore the stutter in his heartbeat against your fingers. “This good enough?”

He looks around for only a moment (not that there's much to look at), before moving to sit with his back to the window, “Sit down, it's a lot.”

A part of you wants to scoff – such a princely thing to do, telling someone to sit down at their own house. But his expression turns somber in a way you've never seen it, so you as he says without complaint.

“I'm to be married soon, to a woman I've never met.”

You swallow thickly. Of course, he’s a prince! Not to mention handsome, intelligent… Of course. How silly of you to indulge your own delusions to such an extent, “That’s great–”

“Don't start. It's not great, it's not what I want and I know it's not what you want either.” He interrupts you firmly, unwavering gaze pinning you to your seat.

“It’s not what you want…?”

“Why would I want to marry someone I’ve never met for the benefit of a kingdom that's never even given me a chance. Especially when there’s already someone I want.” His stare turns pointedly towards you and your spine stiffens as if you’ve done something wrong. It should serve as a confession and yet the way he says it makes it sound like an accusation.

“And who would that be, I wonder…” You can't resist teasing him, watching him bristle like the upset kitten he is.

Immediate regret washes over you like a bucket of cold water once his expression turns positively devious, getting up from his princely perch to lean over you, “You can't possibly be this dense, little mouse.”

You chuckle nervously in response, “I just had to be certain, you get it.” all you get is an indulgent sigh.

“Shouldn't it be easy then? Just tell them you don't wanna get married, and if they have something to say about that, you can just come live with me until they calm down.”

“It should be easy but it never is with them. They’d search for me everywhere, unlike usual – I can tell they're serious about this.” He seems to deflate with the heavy sigh he releases, dejectedly sitting next to you.

“Leona,” you call his name sickly sweet, hands enveloping his mopey face to bring it in your direction, “we've already had some experience hiding from guards…” you get a low chuckle in response, just as expected.

“I won't make that decision for you but, it seems pretty clear to me when you think about it – they've denied you every opportunity to make a difference and yet they expect you to just accept this? No way. Blood has nothing to do with it. You owe them nothing and that's that.”

Perhaps that's all needed – for you to tell him what he already knew. Sounds a lot less self-serving coming from your lovely lips.

“And you'd hide me here?” He humors you, doubts still very much on his mind, but maybe for a little while, just for today, he can put them to the side and just be here with you.

“Of course! They'd never find you if I had anything to do with it!”

Life isn't simple at all for a second born prince, never has been, never will be. But you sure make it seem like it could be.

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

⋆˚࿔ 𝐃𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

synopsis: how genshin men would degrade you <3

tags: degrading (obviously) facesitting, mentions of gagging, oral, penetration, explicit

wrd cnt: 800+

a/n: cooking up an hsr version soon

Ayato is always complete and proper in his semantics, he's fair and he loves to praise you.

But tonight...you stretched his patience too thin and his only choice was to stretch your little cunt til you couldn't talk back anymore. "Fuck, you're tight, honey.. this is what you want, isn't it?"

This day was big for Ayato, but you just had to keep pestering him with question after question. Usually, he'd entertain your playfulness but tonight was stressful. So he took it out on you instead. Call it karma?

"Clenching from my vulgarity..what a whore you are." He whispered into your ear, bending you across his desk, while all the guests sat outside having tea while you got fucked hard from behind by Ayato, who put a hand over your mouth, warning you greatly to stay quiet and stop those slutty moans of yours.

"Am I wrong or, did you not hear me? Ayato said lowly, slowly growing more and more annoyed and irritated at your misbehavior.

"Do you need me to gag that mouth of yours, y/n?” Sounding more like a promised threat than a question.

The only way you can get yourself out of this is giving Mr. Kamisato all he asks for and more, and be an obedient girl.

Nothing could really piss off Alhaitham as much as you, but not in the way that's most obvious.

He hated how much you doubted yourself, looked down on yourself, and harbored deep annoyance of the fact you didn't love the things about you he can't get enough of.

Sure, he could give you a little cute pep-talk but, fucking it into you is the approach that'll really make it stick. Some reverse psychology maybe?

After hearing you badmouth yourself for what felt like hours, he's stripping you of all your clothes and sitting you onto the couch armrest, forcing you to look him in the eyes; daring you to say those things again.

"Fucking pathetic is what you are. You're lucky I'm not fucking that stupid shit out of your mouth". He said, grabbing your hips as he sat down, positioning your cunt over him.

Not sure if you should just hover, his large hand lands on your ass, surely leaving a handprint.

"Sit down y/n." Alhaitham groaned, pulling your hips down onto his face and swallowing your clit with his tongue; his eyes never leaving you and your perfect tits.

Wriothesley loved showering you with compliments and nothing but the sweetest of words, but sometimes he just can't hold back all the filthy things he knows you want from him.

Oftentimes he's just worried you're gonna start crying, but fuck is it hot when you do.

"Fuck, I'm gonna ruin your pretty little mouth." He breathes out, watching you kiss up his cock. On your knees and eyes up is his favorite way to gaze at you, and it's just so easy for him to fuck your face.

"Wrio...you said-"

"Sluts don't get to talk." He cuts you off, his brows raised in amusement as he lights up a cigarette and throws the lighter somewhere, taking his cock in one hand to push past your lips as the other keeps the cig inbetween his fingers.

"Open that dirty fucking mouth of yours... can't take it all of a sudden?" He says, shoving it deep into your throat while his hand grips the back of your head, letting you take it at your own pace before he throws his head back and thrusts his hips up as he hears all the sloppy noises, waiting for your glossy eyes to make an appearance.

Now, Childe really tries to be sweet and praiseful, but he loves how disgusting and filthy you can be, and it's even better when he gets to tells you how much he loves it.

Wearing a new outfit wasn't something you expected to lead to something like this.

Definitely not being put in a tight mating press by your lover, pressed into the couch cushions while he left marks all over your neck and collar, biting and sucking places anyone could see to leave no guessing who's you belong to.

"Look at your thighs...they're just spilling out. You look like a filthy slut, do you want me to fuck you like one? Is that it?" He asked, pulling and smacking the material of your stocking that you didn't think too much of, but the minute he saw you walk out in them his cock wanted to spring out and get in between your thighs. But your pussy was an even better spot.

Deep and deeper be thrusted, the springs in the furniture squeaking while your voice almost did the same, cursing and moaning his name while he kept you close. Small protests for him to be quick fell from your lips, urging him so the two of you could get to where you were headed prior to this..."short" break.

"Are you gonna be a good girl or a fucking headache?" He asked, only fucking your harder and slower, a hand finding to squeeze the sides of your neck.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[vivian-pascal]

But Daddy I Love Him

dbf!joel x f!reader

summary: You've been seeing Joel for a while now, when your dad first introduced you to him, you knew you both could never get enough. But when your dad finds out, things take a turn.

warnings: piv (wrap it up), oral f!receiving, fluff, description of what reader wears, angst

authors note: hey folks! when i first heard this song on Taylor's new album I just KNEW I had to write about it! and this is the idea I had in mind, I hope you all enjoy!

(I definitely recommend listening to the song while reading!)

now I'm running with my dress unbuttoned

screaming "but daddy I love him!"

"I'm having his baby"

no I'm not but you should see your faces.

The warm, tingly feeling of his rough calloused hands sliding along the inside of your thigh making you whimper as his hand slowly makes it way between your legs.

The rough pull of his hair as he collides his drooling mouth with your clit. Licking and sucking like a feral animal devouring its meal.

"Joel." You moan when he inserts his tongue into your seeping cunt. Pushing deeper and deeper until your back arches off the bed.

"Yeah, just like that baby." The deep rumble of his voice vibrates along your pussy and only makes the sensation better. Licking and sucking your cunt until you simply can't hold it any longer and let go. The rush of your orgasm makes him physically eat up your whole pussy. Making sure there are no drops wasted.

Your back finally hitting the bed, he rises from between your legs and he already looks fucked. The dampness from your arousal has drenched his beard and face. His messy hair from all the pulling and tugging you've done only seems to have gotten worse.

He crawls up your body with a big grin and instantly meets your face with his lips. You moan into his mouth as he begins to undo his jeans. You giggle as the zipper gets stuck and decide to help him out.

You pull sharply on the zipper and it instantly goes down. He smiles at you as he removes his pants and his boxers. Your eyes widen at the size of him. You've imagined this moment for years and you've know that he'd be big, but you never knew that he'd be this big.

He crawls back up your body as your back hits the bed once more.

When you first met Joel, you were only a teenager with a wide range of imagination. He was handsome, had the sexiest voice you've ever heard, he was kind, etc. But one thing about him just didn't seem right.

Sometimes you would casually flirt with him because it was funny and only a joke. Well, not for you. He would laugh it off and tell you to stop and then you would. The amount of control he had over you was insane. More than your dad. You would physically do anything for Joel. Sometimes you noticed that some of your flirting did actually bother him.

Once, you two were in a store and the cashier had thought that Joel was your father. He laughed it off and told the lady that you weren't and you both left the store. But you couldn't leave it at that of course, so when you walked out, Joel asked you to wait in the car while he threw something out and you simply replied with "Yes, daddy."

That seemed to do a number for him. He stopped in his tracks as he watched you walk toward his truck. The car ride home was silent. You tried to make small talk with him but he'd only grunt in return.

Ever since that day, he's been off. So earlier today, you decided that should change. And now here you are, ass naked with Joel Miller.

His nose brushes against yours as he slowly pushes in. You both gasp at the intrusion. "You're so gorgeous darlin'." You moan as he slowly begins to move.

You run your nails alone his back as he kissed you along your jawline. His movements hit each spot inside you just right. Stretching you out perfectly.

His grunts only spur you on as he begins to speed up his thrusts. You moan as his tongue collides with yours. His hands moving down your fragile frame as he begins to circle your clit.

Running your hands along his arms, back, neck. You can feel every strong muscle working its hardest. You pull and tug his hair until he's grunting and panting in your mouth.

His fingers push down on your clit harder and you arch your back and moan aloud when your orgasm washes over you. His thrusts begin to go faster as his hips come to a stutter. You grin when you feel his hot seed seeping into you.

He lays his head on your shoulder as you look down at his exhausted state and kiss his forehead. He smiles softly and kisses your lips. You wrap your small arms along his head as he wraps his strong arms around your small body.

You both cuddle up and stay like that for a while. Yearning for each others love as the time passes by slowly.

Your rudely awaken to a slam of your bedroom door. You quickly sit up and cover yourself with your blanket. When you see who it is, your eyes begin to water as your heart stops. It's your dad.

Joel sits up and his eyes squint at the bright light. When he sees your father standing there, he freezes.

"What the fuck?" Your dad roars as he walks in. Joel begins to pick up his boxers as he quickly puts them on.

"Joel?" He looks up at your dad as he tries to grab his jeans. "You fucked my daughter?" He quickly puts on his pants, leaving them unbuttoned. Joel looks at you. His eyes softening when he sees that your crying.

"Fucking answer me!" He looks back at your dad and quickly nods. Your dad throws his hands in the air and grabs onto Joel's arm. Yanking him out of your room.

You quickly get out of bed and grab your dress, putting it on but not buttoning it up. "Dad! Where the fuck are you taking him?" You scream as you run after them. He throws Joel outside and pushes him.

"Joel, care to explain what the fuck you were doing?" Joel only puts his hands in front of him. "You can't even talk to your best bud huh? U wonder why that is, oh maybe because you were messing with my very young daughter." Joel shakes his head as he backs up.

"Now, we both had consent for this. I didn't force her into doin somethin she didn't wanna do." Your dad begins to laugh.

"As if that makes this any better Joel." Tears flood your face.

"Dad stop! He didn't do anything wrong. Please."

Your dad looks furious. He shakes his head and looks back at Joel. He looks at you with sad eyes and only nods to you as a reassurance that it's going to be okay.

"Go." You turn to face your dad as he looks at Joel." "What? Dad no. He can't just leave"

"Well that's what I'm telling him to do isn't it." You look at Joel as he slowly backs away to his truck. "Dad?" You begin to panic. You hear the truck door open and close.

He begins to back away and looks at your dad. His truck backs off the driveway and that's when you start to sprint after him. Holding your dress up as you begin running. Your bare feet hitting the rough pavement. Tears flying from your eyes. Screaming and crying as you see your Joel leaving you. Forever.

Your pace begins to slow as you realize that he's not coming back. Just disappearing into nothing. You stare at his truck as you hear your dads pants coming up behind you. He puts his hand on your back but your too distraught to take it off.

"But Daddy, I loved him."

tags!!

@morallyinept @mermaidgirl30 @rav3n-pascal22 @mountainsandmayhem @amyispxnk @pinkcrystal44 @guelyury @iamsherloocked @itsokbbygrl @heartpascalispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @brittmb115 @kotourasan123 @simplewanderer @tupelomiss @heartramen @sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts

[xxgoldie]

mature / explicit - minors dni! lycaon x reader, afab!reader, kind of a song fic, established relationship, making out, marking, mentioned breeding kink, mentioned mating press

thinking about lycaon, coming home to the apartment you share to find you singing and dancing to 'juno' as you cleaned. you always insisted on doing most of the cleaning - unconventional or not, his job was still in housekeeping. but right now, you were doing more performing than cleaning, a water bottle becoming your microphone as you pranced around the kitchen.

i hear you knocking, baby, come on up

ironically, you didn't notice when your boyfriend slipped into the apartment. moving in silence was a skill he had honed so well it had become habit - he tended to announce himself when he entered a room to avoid startling you, but this time he just couldn't help but keep quiet and watch, as improper as it probably was.

it was cute, he thought, the little show you were putting on for your imaginary audience. but as he clued into the lyrics more, he started finding it a little more than cute.

one of me is cute, but two though?

lycaon bit back an instinctive growl at the thought. he knew you were just singing along to a song, but it wasn't like this was the first time the idea of a family with you had crossed his mind. it was definitely something he wanted, at some point down the line. a little mini-you running around, maybe while you were pregnant with a second.

can't help myself, hormones are high

the main part of the equation coursing through his brain, though, was getting you pregnant in the first place. hardly a gentlemanly train of thought, but the way you were dancing now was far from innocent. pressing you into the mattress, your thighs against your chest with ankles around his neck, thrusting as deep as he could get until he spilled deep inside you, then doing it again - hell, maybe he should get started on this whole 'family' business sooner. maybe today.

wanna try out some freaky positions?

lycaon watched as you bent over the kitchen table, stretching your upper body across the wood with your ass in the air.

have you ever tried this one?

before he could even think to let you know he was in the room, he was behind you, large clawed hand on your waist and growing bulge against your crotch.

"if memory serves, i believe we have."

you squeaked in surprise before processing that it was him.

"lycaon, you're home!" you laugh lightly. he leaned over, pressing a kiss to your lips that was far too chaste for your current position, "how long were you watching?"

"mm, long enough," his mouth had wandered now, lathering your jaw and neck in soft kisses and light licks, "i apologise for not announcing myself."

"i would suggest you make it up to me," you joke, grinding yourself back against him teasingly, "but it looks like you're already planning on it."

adore me, hold me and explore me

your motion pulled a groan from him that verged on a growl. one of his hands roamed what parts of your body weren't pressed against either the table or his chest, while the other intertwined with one of yours in a distinctly adoring gesture.

mark your territory

the soft ministrations were divulging into small nips, infinitely careful with his sharp teeth to not break skin but definitely leave a mark to admire later.

tell me i'm the only, only, only, only one

growing tired of the restricted position, lycaon leant up, allowing you to turn around and perch on the table before he continued his attention to your neck. you could thread your fingers into his fur now, other hand indulgently feeling up the toned muscle of his upper back.

adore me, hold me and explore me

your legs wound around his hips, grinding against him rhythmically, biting back a moan as his stiffness caught against your clit.

i'm so fucking horny

it almost hurt him to leave the working of your hips as he dropped to his knees, tongue lathing lower skin. pushing your top up, he left marks from just below your breasts down to your waistband, but giving more attention to your stomach than usual. he was almost surprised how riled up it got him, imagining the skin bulging with his baby.

tell me i'm the only, only, only, only one

your eyes widened as your mind connected the dots, the fact that it was more than your dancing to the song and a long day at work that had gotten him in the mood. as if sensing your realisation, lycaon looked up, asking permission with his gaze.

"shit," your voice was breathy, mind racing but unable to find any downsides to the proposition, "shit, yeah. please. please put a baby in me, lycaon."

and that's all he needed to hear.

the world already has many breeding-kink related lycaon fics, but if you put a hot wolf man into the world then you get what you get wc: 801

[kivino]

BIG GUY || SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X GN!READER

my masterlist

ao3 link to this fic

Word counter – ~1,8k

Tags/Warnings – Fluff, a bit of miscommunication and jealousy, nothing much.

Summary – Ghost takes a liking to the nickname you give him, but struggles to understand just how much he likes it.

A/n – I’m still struggling with my school projects so wish me luck, I made this instead of making a video for my language class lmao, enjoy! i’ll add the ao3 link a bit later.

upd. link added for ao3 enjoyers!

It didn't miss anybody, the way Ghost seemed more easygoing and light-hearted on certain days, letting recruits get away with a bit more than usual. Coincidentally, it was right after various interactions with you, be it training or sparring together, doing reports, moving some shit around the base, or just hanging out in the common room. Nobody could just figure out what it was about your interactions that lifted Simon’s spirits so high, which was notoriously hard, courtesy of how gloomy or menacing the man usually appeared. But the answer was quite simple, really.

“Thanks, big guy. Always a huge help.” Simon catches your small smile as you pat him on the shoulder and nods, barely containing his joy, he’d hate to make it too obvious. He was wearing a balaclava after all, and the smallest stretch of the fabric on his cheeks and around his mouth could easily give away how joy spread itself in his chest at the affectionate nickname.

Big guy. Big guy. Your big guy.

Nickname reserved only for him, exclusively from you. Of course, Ghost knew he’d be larger than your average soldier, and that regularly got acknowledged by others, but something about you calling him like this made it different. That pleasant warmth inside, which reminded him of the sun, or that stupid fluttering in his stomach, was…unusual to say the least. It made his mood better almost instantly, an interaction he eagerly, but silently looked forward to each day. Something about you calling him a big guy made his head spin, swimming in the endless clouds. Something Ghost hasn't felt in a long time and didn’t think he’d ever experience.

It was easy to let down his guard around you, you stripped him of the metaphorical armor just like this, with an effortless joke and that godforsaken pet name thrown in somewhere in the conversation. And just like that - Ghost’s low laugh rumbled in unison with yours, heart missing a beat when he looked into your eyes that sparkled with something unknown and captivating. It felt…good. New. And so fucking warm, Ghost felt like he was about to suffocate.

You were the newbie, your reputation preceded you but Ghost didn’t pay much attention to all the rumors swirling around on the base, like some suspicious soup in a boiling pot. He had better things to do. Like following you similarly to a lost puppy, maybe staring intently right at you with his huge brown eyes, if he was feeling brave. Or lingering somewhere around, just to make sure you’re adjusting alright. After all, all of you soldiers have to look out for each other, right? Right. Definitely.

It felt good to finally be able to just laugh and play around with someone, who didn’t seem scared shitless by his presence, mask and, well…everything about him, that seemingly drove people away. Not that he didn’t understand the reasoning for that – quite on the contrary. But you were probably just built differently, drawn to the weird, unappealing, and scary. Maybe Ghost should feel lucky that you were like that. And truth be told, he did. He liked it and he liked you.

Ghost could only hope that he lightened up the things for you the way you did for him. To ask and dig deeper would probably be too much, Simon could still feel that caution and tremble at the mere thought of trying to grow closer to you and spend even more time together. Like he’ll put a curse on you the moment he decides to open up a bit more and show you at least some inner workings of his mind on a more intimate level than just some stupid puns, or gossip and discussions about the way you spent your day. Although they were certainly pleasant, with you giving him a subtle, understanding smile from across the table, while steam from your coffee mug made it seem so domestic and wholesome like Ghost was in a dream. So, Ghost kept what little distance he could, despite his wishes, and hoped that you take your time and be patient with him.

That is until he overheard something that startled him, to say the least.  

“Well, your jokes are a bit too much for me, big guy.” You say, letting out a clear, loud laugh, as you patted Soap’s chest. Scotsman straightened up almost immediately in front of you, a proud toothy smile beaming on his face. Now Ghost felt like he just got punched in the gut, for some reason. Annoyed and on edge in a split second. But why? He truly couldn’t seem to pin down the reason for the surge of anger and something bitter in his chest, bubbling right under his skin.

It was probably nothing worth his attention. Just something weird with his body, exhaustion from the training, muscle cramps...or whatever it could be. In any case, running headfirst into dissecting his mind for something so small and minuscule? Ridiculous, really. Completely unnecessary. Of course, Simon knew that both you and Johnny weren’t saints, two rascals more like, but he had no obvious reason to feel this bitter stinging inside of him, that slithered and slipped around, followed by tightening of his throat and bobbing of his Adam’s apple. He swallowed loudly, trying to wash down that gross aftertaste on his tongue hours after he saw that interaction. And the fact that he couldn’t get it out of his head was telling enough, that he was, in fact, bothered by something.

So, Simon decided to do what he did best. Bottle it up. But then it just kept sitting in his head, that nasty feeling still eating him from the inside out. It didn’t help that he started seeing you talking with Johnny more often, while Simon unintentionally avoided you, still buried deep in his thoughts and contemplations about what caused him to feel the way he did. Of course, he couldn’t help but eavesdrop. And there you were. Laughing with him. Calling him “big guy”. Again. This only caused Simon to become more cranky and unfriendly, taking his frustrations out on poor privates who’ve never ran so many laps in their entire lives.

The only people Ghost was outright cruel and merciless to were his enemies. He wasn’t the friendliest guy, of course, but everyone noticed when the lieutenant who usually would crack jokes and dumb puns at the expense of others at most suddenly started to get annoyed at smaller mistakes more, using harsher words and overall look like he was down in the dumps. Nobody dared to talk about the subject though, so Ghost was left terrorizing the privates and recruits, having lunches in his office and avoiding areas where he knew you’d be at certain times of the day from your long talks before. Which, of course, didn’t help him to understand what was wrong at all.

So, all Ghost was left with were his own thoughts. He didn’t feel jealous of you interacting with other people before. You were never his, so he had no right for that at all. But there had to be something else that pushed Simon to where he was now, tired, unsatisfied, and craving at least a passing smile and a short “Hey there” from you. So that the two of you could sit down somewhere together, and you’d talk about some irrelevant nonsense, and then you’d open your mouth again and call him “big guy”. It didn’t feel fair that Johnny got to be called that. It was Simon’s nickname. From you. Wait-wait-wait, hold on a second.

The sudden revelation as to why exactly Ghost was feeling that way when he saw you talk with the sergeant hit him like a damn bus. Fuck, that is childish. Weird. God, Simon feels like a damn creep. Getting upset because of a damn nickname, way to fucking go, you oaf. This felt confusing. Irrational. Absolutely fucking stupid. To think that something that simple threw him off so easily. That’s human relationships for you. Now it felt like he needed even more time. Not to make it complicated. Not to hurt you and himself.

Regardless of his wishes, he didn’t have any more time to think when he was soon approached by you, a concerned frown adorning your face, along with a look full of sympathy and understanding. Ghost already dreaded the conversation that hadn’t even begun. And he wasn’t even the one reaching out first. Which makes it even more embarrassing.

“Hey, Simon. I have something I want to talk about with you.” You, bless your heart, probably thought something terrible happened in Simon's life when in reality he was just running away from you and his feelings like a whole wildfire was chasing him. The only correlation he could think of is dumb teenagers, which is…remotely fitting with his recent behavior. “I’ve noticed you’ve been kind of…avoiding me? Did something happen, or am I just overthinking everything?”

“It’s stupid, really. Nothing you should be worrying yourself about.” Ghost blurts out before he can even think. Great, now he can only tell you the whole truth, without the options to back out or lie. But it was truly so unusual for him because Simon never expected to get attached to a nickname and to you.

“Well, let’s hear you out. I won’t judge.” Again, with your perfect reassuring smile and your calming presence. Simon lets out a deep sigh, his throat itching from what is about to ensue. He knew he was going to embarrass himself, but he just couldn’t bring himself to lie. Which would’ve been so much easier, instead of baring his true feelings in front of you.

“Well, your nickname for me…You know what I’m talking about.” Simon’s tone is deep and gruff as he tries to conceal that uncertainty in his voice. You appear to be listening attentively, your eyes trained on him, head slightly tilted to the side, which makes his heart melt. You give him a confident nod at the mention of the nickname, and Ghost continues. “I want you to call only me like that. And I mean, only me” He can see your eyebrow rising, your expression more teasing than questioning. There we go, now you’re going to mock him or laugh at him. Just perfect.

“Sure thing, big guy.” A shudder runs down Simon’s spine from your words, a sweet, saccharine feeling immediately blossoming in his chest. Oh, he had no words to describe how hard he missed it. All his worries lifted immediately. You didn’t find it weird. In fact, from what Ghost could tell by your satisfied expression, it was quite the opposite of the reaction Simon initially expected. Which was extremely relieving. He would hate to lose your intriguing relationship to the miscommunication of his own making. “Could’ve just said that you wanted it reserved just for you.”

Oh, it wasn’t just the nickname that did it to him. But it’s a bit too early to tell you that.

check out my masterlist for more fics or send me a request/comment!

[qatarsprint2023]

Hi can I request a lando x f!reader when she’s really sick and how lando takes care of her, like A. fluffy and comforting fic. I just found ur acc and I’m so excited for ur upcoming writings!!!!

~🎀

Thank you sm! Hope you enjoy this one, 🎀<3

Sick days and Race weekends— LN4

Lando discovers that his girlfriend got sick while he was away for a race and didn't want to worry him. — Lando Norris x f!reader, fluff, comfort, reader has a bad case of the flu, no use of y/n word count: ca. 1.2k

Ever since you were a kid you'd never been the type of person to get actually sick. Sure, a little cough and runny nose maybe, but nothing ever really drastic. Personally, you were pretty sure your immune system was simply a wonderful combination of good genes and growing up in the countryside.

Your parents had always told you that the fresh air and spending a lot of time outdoors with some exposure to animals had probably played some part in your never being sick as well and developed your immune system in a way people who grew up in urban areas would never have.

But when you moved to London for uni a little later in life, a huge city with tons of traffic, pollution and surprisingly little greenery, you found yourself getting sick more often than when you lived on your parent's farm surrounded by green grass, fields that stretched for miles and lots of animals. However this time you got sick. Runny nose, aching joints, pounding headache, hacking cough, fever that came and went as it pleased... The whole flu package, really.

You'd already started feeling a little off before Lando left for Austin on Wednesday and it had gradually gotten a little worse each day, but by Friday it all just hit like a wrecking ball. But you being you, decided not to say anything much about it and tell your boyfriend it was just a common cold you were dealing with back home.

He'd done so well in Qualifying on Friday and he should really be concentrating on his upcoming race and not his girlfriend's inane complaints from halfway across the globe. You didn't like worrying people. It didn't feel right plaguing someone else with your problems when surely you could somehow find a way to work it out yourself anyway.

But now it was Monday morning and you had curled up on the couch under the heaviest blanket you could find with a half empty tissue box and a giant mug of tea on the coffee table beside you a few hours ago already. You were cold and shivering like leaves in the wind on an icey autumn day like today, even with your hot drink and the warm blanket thrown across your body.

You couldn't have been more miserable. You felt like you were dying. You couldn't go to work, or leave the house because you simply felt awful and weak. So, you decided to just lay down on the couch and wait for Lando to get home.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting for the familiar sound of a key turning in the lock, you perked up a little at the sound coming from the door across the room. Lando stepped inside and shut the door behind him with a soft sigh slipping past his lips, not noticing you.

"Hey... P2!" you croaked weakly and forced a small smile onto your lips when you saw your boyfriend step into your shared flat, suitcase in hand, his coat and shoes still on as well after he just made his way through Heathrow airport and probably (definitely) went through a mini heart attack too when his luggage didn't immediately come out with everything else from the flight, like he always does when you're flying somewhere.

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he'd actually heard you call out to him. It was the last thing he expected to hear. Reasonable response, you had to concur— after all, you were supposed to be at work. Then he turned to face the couch and saw you laying there, basically drowning under the heavy fabric of your blanket.

"Hey, hey... What's wrong? Why aren't you at work?" he asked in a voice that showed obvious signs of worry as he quickly kicked his shoes off and went over to you, feeling your forehead with his cold palm. "Jesus. You're basically on fire, baby... I thought you just had a normal cough?!"

"Didn't wanna worry you," you chuckled with an innocent smile, but before you knew it, your chuckle turned into yet another harsh cough. According to your mum, you sounded like an elephant with tuberculosis, like she told you over the phone yesterday. Harsh but true comparison, you had to admit.

Lando groaned and shook his head in an exaggerated way. "Yeah but, you should worry me when you get a fever like this!" However his expression softened to one of sympathy as he sat down beside you on the edge of the beige couch, gently stroking your forehead in an attempt to make you feel more at ease.

"Why didn't you tell me you felt this bad when we talked yesterday?" he frowned, some of his soft curls falling onto his forehead.

"You just got P2 and you sounded so happy about that on the phone, so I didn't wanna dampen the mood," you respond with a shrug.

"The only thing you've got me feeling right now is worried, baby. Come on, you can hardly talk without having a coughing fit," he sighed, putting his arm around you and planting a kiss on the crown of your head. "Have you had anything to eat?"

"Not yet," you sniffled softly and shook your head, rubbing the bridge of your nose with your index finger and thumb. It felt like there was someone playing a damn drum solo against the inside of your skull. "Didn't have the energy to make myself anything more than tea. I feel like death..."

"I know, baby, I know..." Lando sighed softly and gently stroked your cheek with his thumb as he stood up and placed his hands on his hips, looking down at you. "I'll make you some toast, okay? But first let's get you to bed... The couch isn't comfortable enough for when my girl needs to rest. It'll give you a stiff neck, sweetheart."

Lando gently looped his arm around your waist and helped you get up from the couch, a soft groan escaping your throat. He held you upright as you slowly walked over to the bedroom where your boyfriend lied you down in bed and pulled the covers over your shivering body, enveloping you in a warm sea of soft bedsheets.

"Alright..." he said with a sympathetic gaze in his hazel eyes and fluffed up your pillow a little, so you could lay down more comfortably. "I'll make you something and I'll bring you your tea in a minute too. Oh and some of that cough syrup we have as well. I know you don't like it, but I don't like it when you sound like you're gonna cough up your lungs any second. Do you want me to make you some soup later too?"

"You can make soup?" you retorted raspily and covered your mouth as another cough slipped past your chapped lips.

"Well... no... But I can make soup from the can?" Lando suggested with a sheepish grin, which caused you to smile a bit as well. It was so nice to have someone who just wanted to help and make you feel better.

"That'd be nice, thank you..." you replied softly and smiled, though you quickly covered your mouth as he leaned down to kiss you. "No! I'll get you sick too!"

"Well, I sure as hell won't let you sleep alone tonight, so whether I kiss you now or have my arm around you for seven hours tonight doesn't really make a big difference, does it?" he chuckled and gently took your hand away from your face to press a chaste kiss against your pale lips.

"Stay with me afterwards?" you hummed softly, not yet pulling away from the tender sensation of his lips on yours and your hand in his.

"I'll stay as long as you want me to," said Lando in response and gently gave your hip a pat. "But first I'll get you something to eat and your tea from the living room, yeah?"

[sharksnshakes]

Night Out - Tim Drake

image source: batboyblog on tumblr

When out at a dive bar with your friends, you step outside for a breath of fresh air and run into the Red Robin. For some reason, he seems... familiar?

AN; writers block is brutal and disgusting and horrible. also. i am suffering from batfamily brainrot so expect more of this (part two can be found here!)

Wordcount; 787

TW; some cursing, mentions of drinking

It's a damp spring night when you meet the Red Robin. You're out with your friends at some college dive bar on the East Side. The area's a far cry from Gotham U's campus, but with free entry and cheap drinks, it's worth the elevated risk of mugging.

"Besides," one of your friends had declared on the way to the bar, "It just means we're more likely to see Nightwing's hot ass."

You're pretty sure the dark-haired vigilante operates exclusively in Bludhaven these days, but you're not a party pooper.

The music was good, the crowd was fun, but a small room of drunk co-eds had a way of heating up quicker than Firefly's flamethrower, and so you'd retreated out the side door for a breath of fresh air. You weren't stupid; you'd taken your small can of mace with you. This was Gotham, after all.

The alleyway was blissfully empty, save for a dumpster--quite the relief, seeing as the last time you'd been here, you'd stumbled upon a couple deep in the throes of a heated make out session. Taking a breath, you leaned up against the cool bricks in the alleyway and let yourself decompress.

"There's definitely better places to hang out around here than dark alleys," a voice says from somewhere behind you.

Living in the city has taught you many things. Most importantly, how to turn off potential predators by acting downright crazier than they do.

You spin on your heel and hold the mace like it's a pistol, coming face-to-face with none other than--

"Holy shit, you're Robin," you gasp, eyes widening.

Thank god you didn't actually mace him.

"That I am," he says, warily eyeing the can in your hand.

"Like... the Red Robin," you continue. You're blinking at him, openly gaping, and it occurs to you that you should probably stop pointing the can at his eyes. You stow the makeshift weapon in your back pocket. "I'm so sorry! I thought you were a mugger or something!"

"Hey, it's fine," he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "If it's any consolation, you definitely would've scared the shit out of a mugger."

You laugh, but it's mostly in disbelief. Red Robin is standing mere feet away from you, domino mask and yellow cloak and green pants and all, and you're suddenly very thankful you'd gotten dressed up to go out tonight. For a split second, you swear you see him give you a quick once over. But no, there's no way Robin's checking you out.

He glances around the alleyway for a moment, almost awkwardly, before speaking again. "...Any reason you're out here?"

"I'm out with my friends," you say, motioning to the building behind you, where the bar's logo is printed in peeling white vinyl. "Needed some air. Somehow, smoke and asthma don't make a good combination," you joke.

"Can't imagine why," he grins, and holy shit Red Robin thinks you're funny.

"You got any fun, exciting plans tonight?"

He hesitates.

"Wait, you don't have to answer. I know, top secret Batman stuff--"

"Nah, not that secret." It's dark in the alleyway so maybe you're not seeing things right, but you swear you can see a hint of color rising to his cheeks. "Just patrolling. Y'know. Keeping an eye out for muggers and mace-wielding asthmatics."

You laugh. "Sounds boring."

"Definitely could use a drink." He glances at the side door with an unreadable expression.

"Rough start to the night?"

"You could say that."

A brief silence stretches between the two of you. Traffic and the faint pounding of the bar's music fill the space, and for some reason, despite never having met Robin and likely never meeting him again, it feels... almost familiar.

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, you're not the only one stuck at work tonight. One of my best friends, Tim, had to bail last minute since he's got an exam to study for. So, like, you're not suffering alone!" you add, thinking back to the guy you've kind of been maybe having romantic feelings for lately.

Robin chokes.

"Shit, you okay? Need me to, like, slap you on the back or something?"

"Nope," he says, voice raspy.

"You're sure?"

"Positive." He gives you an awkward thumbs-up.

"I should probably let you get back to work, then," you sigh, turning back to the side door and grasping the handle. "And I should get back in there. Don't need my friends worried about me."

When you turn back around, it's just you and the dumpster.

"Fuckin' impressive," you mutter to nobody but yourself. "See ya, Robin."

You step back inside. The door closes behind you and... fuck.

You forgot to ask for a picture.