#i mean. you all saw. you were there. but like.

[mv1simp]

Often ♥️

Mafia!Max Verstappen x Reader

she asked me if I do this everyday, I said often (asked her how many times she rode the wave, not so often)

You’re a hard working, intelligent medical student - at the top of her class. Desperate to pay off your debts, you end up bartending in Monaco’s most exclusive nightclub….and catch the eye of the mafia boss who runs half the city, Max Verstappen. And now that he’s found you, he’s never letting you go.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, dom/sub themes, dark mafia!max, innocent student! reader tryna pay her bills, sugar daddy vibes

It had truly meant to be a one time thing. You’d been strapped for cash, as per usual - stretching yourself thin with your overpriced rent in your tiny one bedroom apartment in a dodgy area, with your utility bills, your parent’s monthly mortgage payments. And of course, the costliest expense of all was your goddamn medical degree. You were in your final year, so close to the end that you could almost taste it.

Maybe that’s what made you say yes to one of the other tutors you work with at your university tutoring job, when she sees you at your second job later than evening tidying up at a local clinic, and then your third the next morning where you hand her a fresh iced coffee you’ve brewed. You know, she says in a hushed tone, leaning in rather conspiratorially. You’re going to work yourself to the bone, with three jobs and putting yourself through med school?

You wave her off with a practised cheerful smile, used to hiding your tiredness from your peers who all thought of you as a model student. But when she persisted, texting you the details of her mysterious cousin who worked at some bar downtown and earned one thousands dollars in a single night…you couldn’t help but being intrigued. You were cautious about it, of course, asking to meet the cousin - Layla - at the coffee shop you worked at. And when she told you about the VIP club, JimmyZ, that she worked at - nothing like those sleazy stripclubs downtown, she hastily reassured, seeing the nervous look on your face. No, JimmyZ was an exclusive club, only for the rich and elite who enjoyed throwing stacks of cash for bags of cocaine and exotic dancers. That’s what Layla called herself, but you still privately think it’s a glorified term for a stripper, as you watch her on stage from your corner in the bar with mixed feelings of awe at how sexy she looks, and discomfort from the sleazy gazes on her.

You’d somehow been talked into helping bartend for a night, Layla having mentioned that you were the perfect girl for the kind of men who came to JimmyZ. At your insulted expression, she giggled, saying that she was trying to saw you had an angelic, natural beauty about you, exactly the kind of authenticity the clientele liked to see instead of the more artificial look found at cheaper clubs. You looked at her skeptically, but still ended up lured in to try and make your rent that month. And after your first night, where you noted impressive amounts of security protecting the gorgeous dancing girls on stage, you felt yourself seduced by the offer of a single night at JimmyZ making up for an entire weeks of your previous job’s earning.

So before you knew it, you’d been working steadily for a couple of months now, finding yourself at a familiar ease behind the bar as you expertly poured drinks and humming the sensual music. You loved the job, with its high pay meaning you had time to focus on your studies again, and last month you’d even topped your class in one of your exams! Of course, it came with its risks - you worked well through the middle of busy weekend nights, many curious and lustful gazes on you from men who enjoyed the skimpy bartender uniform you had to wear. A tight, low cut white button up shirt that showed off your cleavage, and a miniskirt that came dangerously close to flashing someone when you bent over, paired with heeled knee high boots. It was certainly not the type of usual thing you wore, with your conservative full sleeve tops and flattering jeans with scuffed converse that you recycled constantly given your tight budget. But after some adjusting of your long curls hiding your cleavage and avoiding any eye contact skittishly with any man who looked at you too closely, you found yourself falling into an easy rhythm at work.

Until one evening, a Friday night before some big racing event in the city, meaning the club was even more packed that usual with clubgoers overflowing out the entrance and bass thumping down the street. Your boss had found you as you checked in for your late night shift, rapidly saying something about how the owner was visiting tonight and there weren't enough girls for the show, could you help out just this once-

Despite your adamant protests and squeaks that you absolutely could not, would not go on stage, you find yourself shoved into the backstage room to get ready, or risk losing your job permanently, your boss says meanly before storming off. Your lip trembles in anxiety, at the thought of someone recognising you tonight and then seeing you working as a doctor after your graduated. You'd lose your reputation before you could even start your career. You feel lost in the bright makeup room, surrounded by stunning, slim women who had their hair blown own perfectly and makeup done to perfection. You never imagined that you'd have to be up on stage with the beautiful dancers, who you looked so plain standing next too. A few toss you sympathetic looks but are too busy getting ready themselves to help you - until Layla enters and catches sight of your shaking form. She scowls when you tearfully tell her what the boss had said, but gives you a firm pep talk as she quickly helps you get ready. You've barely used any of the dozens of makeup products she has open on the counter, never having had any money to spend on nice clothes or jewellery to spoil yourself with.

But you feel yourself start to settle as she hands you a shot of tequila, then another for confidence, as she guides you through how to navigate the stage, how it was all about faking it till you make it!

You nod determinedly as she coaches you, before quickly getting change into a glittery strappy piece of fabric she hands you, with strappy heels to match. It takes you a few minutes to adjust to the height, but you find yourself being able to walk comfortably in them. When you come out from the side room to show Layla, the rest of the girls in the room stop in their tracks and look at you with renewed interest, yelling out whoops of encouragements about how hot you looked, girl! You flush with the praise, eyeing yourself in the mirror every few minutes as this pretty girl you didn't recognise stared at you. With lush, long curls styled messily, and wide, doe eyed eyes framed in smoky liner and glittery eyeshadow, and full, pouty glossed lips. And your body, which you'd been feeling so insecure about compared to the other dancers, looked undeniably sexy in a shimmery gold minidress that was so short it showed off the swell of your thick ass and chubby thighs invitingly. See, Layla says rather smugly as she comes up behind you. I told you, face of an angel with a body of a dancer. The audience is going to go feral for you.

And she was right, when an hour later and another practise session later, this time with the aid of the other dancers as they critiqued your form, you find yourself on one of the three stages the club had throughout its two levels. If there’s one thing you pride yourself on, it’s being a quick learner. You relax, letting yourself get lost in the music as a sensual song by The Weeknd croons over the speakers. The other girls had told you that dancing could also be fun, empowering, and make you feel in control - and you know understood what they meant as you sway your body enticingly on the stage, running your hands across your tits where your cleavage shows through the low neckline. At least in a club like JimmyZ, which had the reputation of luxury and class to uphold, the dancers wore skimpy outfits but never got fully naked like at a proper stripclub. You made full use of this small mercy, giving teasing flashes of your cleavage and ass but never actually taking your tiny glittery dress off. You could feel dozens of eyes fixed on every movement you made, every toss of your curls, every breathy sigh and bounce of your ass as you let yourself get lost in the beat.

But there's one set of piercing blue eyes that you keep finding your wide eyes returning to curiously. A man you’ve never seen before is seated in one of the VIP lounges a level above and directly in front of your elevated stage. He’s tall and muscular, with messy blonde hair and the most gorgeous eyes you’ve ever seen. And to pull it off, he’s lounging comfortable on a leather sofa, well dressed in a fitted white shirt and jeans, his intense gaze roaming over your dancing body while everyone around him was standing up and hollering towards the dancers on the stage.

He looked like a lion amongst the pack of sheep, and you couldn’t help but bat your lashes in his direction just a bit more as a spark of attraction flutters within you. You've never felt so desirable in your life, and the rush it gives you is addictive. Your show is over before you know it, with enthused yells and demands for an Encore! from the frenzied crowd around your stage as clubgoers migrated to see your show instead of the two others. You giggle coyly, finding this new, confident side of yourself so much more fun than your usual run down, shy one. Stacks of paper notes have been tossed up on your stage and the bouncers dutifully collect it up to bring to you backstage. You blow a kiss into the air for the crowd, but your eyes don’t leave the gorgeous mystery man’s when you do so.

Afterwards, the other girls are laughing and excitedly hugging you backstage, oohing over the stacks of money you’d made and saying you needed to start dancing as a regular at the club, you’d instantly become a favourite! As you giggled their encouragement off, the mood suddenly soured when your boss strode in and said there’s been a request for a private show.

This was the darker, naughtier side of JimmyZ - only offered to the filthy rich VIP clients who could afford the outrageous hourly rate for the prized, beautiful dancers at the club. You’d walked past the closed VIP lounge doors before, your face turning red from the excited moans of male and female pleasure and lewd sounds. It was highly secret, of course, so you’d never known to much about what it fully involved. But you’d have to get to know it tonight, when your boss's finger points past everyone to land on you, to say the request is for our latest dancer, who’s been hiding how much of a natural she is!

Your quickly shake your head, saying you weren’t comfortable with anything more - but your boss says you might want to hear how much he's offering to pay, first. I turned him down, too, saying you weren't one of the regular dancers...but he's very certain he can make it worth your while. When you hear the figure being offered, specifically just for you, your jaw drops. It's enough to pay your shitty rent for two whole months.

You still feel uneasy, because dancing was one thing but to go to a private room was another, and you weren't sure how you felt about using your body for money. In the end, you find yourself curious to go, to get that addictive feeling of desirability and swayed by the security of the income. You’re fully in control, Layla reassures, there’s security in the room the whole time if the client gets touchy. You just have to undress a bit, down to your underwear and give them a show, maybe a lap dance or two. Nothing more than a quick handjob at most, she insists. Then, seeing your face go red as you stammer in response, she pauses to ask that you had done that before, right?

You nod your head quickly, saying yes, of course, I'm 23! You’re too embarrassed to tell her that even though you’re in college, you’ve barely had any sexual experiences and have never had a boyfriend. There was never any time with all the jobs you worked and your full time degree. You’ve had quick, forgettable and sloppy drunk hookups, with uncomfortable fingering that didn’t make you cum or half hearted handjobs at frat parties. You’ve never had sex before, but you know there’s no point freaking out about that now when you’re commited to getting paid tonight. Besides, it was just a quick lap dance probably on some middle aged divorced guy, right?

You can do this, you tell yourself internally, this was nothing compared to dancing in front of hundred of strangers. Maybe this month you’d finally be able to buy some nice dresses and heels to treat yourself with. It can feel good, too Layla had added as she helped you touch up your lip gloss. For your own pleasure, I mean. If you let it, she says with a wink. Remember, you're in control!

When you finally enter the VIP room that night, you're shocked at the man who awaits you. Because it was certainly no sleazy middle aged man. The gorgeous blue eyed blonde from earlier looks up from his conversation at you, his lips quirking up as he sees your golden minidress sparkle in the dim light. You’re too caught off guard to move, but once he dismissed the other men he was talking to with a tilt of his hand, he beckons you over. With a backwards glance to make sure the bouncer stands guard at the door, you take a seat on the comfortable sofa next to him.

It turns out the mystery man isn't just handsome, but friendly, and funny too, with an infectious laugh that makes your heart race. He introduced himself as Max, in a delicious low Dutch accent, and offers you a drink. You politely decline, not wanting to be too disinhibited, but he pours you a glass of expensive whiskey to match the one in his hand anyways. When he asks you for your name, you give him a fake one - but his eyes darken as he tells you he doesn’t think you’re telling him the truth. I’ll call you whatever I want, then, he hums. Schatje seems very fitting for an angel like you. I hope you don’t mind that I asked to see you personally tonight. But the way you danced, I was completely entranced. And then when I saw your pretty face, these big doe eyes...well, I knew I had to meet you. No matter the cost.

You flush under the compliment from such an attractive man, now comfortably sipping on your whiskey. You're the one who's meant to be pleasing him, but it seemed he was more focused on your pleasure. He relaxes you into a surprisingly easy conversation, making you laugh with funny stories about his two house cats. How cute, you say wistfully when he shows you his saved album on his phone. You miss the way his icy eyes hungrily glance down your tempting neckline as you admire the photos, taking advantage of the angle. The tension eases from your stiff form and soon you find yourself leaning in closer to the tall, muscular blonde.

You’re a very charming talker, Max, you say coyly, your newfound confidence emerging as your attraction for him grows. I think you’ve earned your reward. He smirks as you easily climb onto his broad lap, gasping slightly from the feeling of his strong, muscular thighs beneath your soft ones. Soon you’re performing your little routine, giggling and tossing your hair, running wandering hands over yourself, squeezing your juicy tits so they popped in your small hands and make Max’s gaze narrow with desire. Layla had been right. You did feel in complete control, and your pussy throbbed in interest at the gorgeous man whose lap you sat on.

He leans back to appreciate the view and you feel lust cloud your senses from the addicting feeling of those heated blue eyes on you, mixing with the heady feeling from the expensive whiskey he’d offered. And then his fingers are skimming your waist, sending electric sparks shooting from the lightest of touches. You’re not supposed to touch, Max you say with a teasing voice, your playful smile giving away how you really felt. When you untie your dress straps, letting it fall down your waist to show him your chest, barely covered in a see through lacy bra, he lets out a low groan. C’mon, schat, he murmurs huskily. I’m meant to see the prettiest tits in my life and not even kiss them?

You giggle again, running small hands down his shirt as you slowly unbutton him to reveal a muscular, broad chest. He smirks as he watches you bite your lip as your eyes wander all the way down to his blonde happy trail, where your curious fingers have now stopped. What’s the matter, baby, he teases a little twistedly, because he knows exactly what’s stopping you. Never done this before?

You flush, but shake your head adamantly and denying his claim. Of course I have, you say with a defiant look, the competitive nature rising up as you continue to unzip his jeans. He finds your determination so cute, how hard you’re trying to please him, but you give your innocence away with a sudden gasp when his erect cock jumps out of his boxers to rest against his lower abs. It’s so big, you say with a tinge of nerves in your voice at the sight of his drooling, angry red rip. He distracts you with soft kisses to your neck, your cheeks before pressing his lips gently to yours. You can’t resist him either, leaning back in to recapture him in a deeper kiss as you two begin sloppily making out. It’s starting to feel so good, the way his skilled tongue explores your willing mouth, that you eagerly nod when he murmurs he’ll show you how to make him feel good, yeah?

And when his large hand takes yours and presses it right in between his large, spread thighs, he captures your gasps with his lips. He guides your trembling hands over his huge cock, one hand encircling both your palms around him, whispering naughty things in your ear. There you go, sweetheart, right from the tip and then down to the base in a twist, just like that. When you get confident and cutely spit a small glob on his shaft to start pumping him more furiously, he praises you even more. Fuck, you’re a natural, just perfect for me.

You blush under the praise, and together you both watch his cock swell even more with your dedicated handjob. He can’t resist giving you a deep kiss again as he sees the concentrated expression on your face. Doing so good for me, babygirl, Max murmurs as he breaks away for a second, admiring your swollen lips and dazed eyes. Here, let me make you feel good too, hmm?

You squeal in shock as his lips latch right onto your already hard nipples. Ma-Max! No touching, remember! You try to remind him breathlessly. He swirls his tongue around your areolas, one hand still guiding you to jerk him off and his other expertly squeezing and massaging your heaving tits. You very quickly find yourself distracted from his rule break as he spoils your sensitive nipples with attention. So distracted that you stop your handjob, making him pull away again and you whine from the loss of his talented tongue. He resists smirking as you practically push your jiggling tits in his face, your doe eyes begging him for more. I didn’t say you could stop jerking me off, baby, he says in mock disapproval. If you’re not going to be a good girl then you’ll have to say sorry some other way.

You tilt your head in confusion at his statement, when his strong hand tangles into your pretty curls and gently but firmly pushes your head down. Your eyes widen as you realise what he’s asking of you, and you stammer and try to weakly protest. It’s not that you aren’t into this; if anything, Max is the first guy you’ve ever felt such instant chemistry with. No - it’s that this feels so fast, too much too quick for your inexperience and self consciousness. You haven’t even processed just how far he’s planning on taking this and that technically you were selling yourself at some nightclub for his money. Besides, wasn’t there meant to be a guard here to stop the clients going too far? But when you quickly turn your head to look, Max’s hand relaxing briefly to let you peer around, you find yourself only becoming more anxious.

Because there’s no one else in the room.

Where did he go, you say, confused. I don’t understand, I thought he has to keep watch-Schatje, Max murmurs smoothly into your ear. I’m a possessive man. Did you really think I was going to let anyone else get a glimpse of what’s underneath your pretty dress? You gasp, heartbeat now fluttering rapidly from the confession that he’d been so taken with you with one look he wanted you all to himself. You’re half terrified of how much power this man seems to have, and half dizzy with pleasure that he finds you so desirable that he wants to stake his claim. He takes his time working you up again, running hands that were more like a lion’s large paws over your curves while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, asking if you were ready to be a good girl for him.

A thought plants in your head then, as you nod obediently, and he presses a kiss to your curls to lower your head into his lap again. That Max wasn’t the sweet, gorgeous guy next door type he looked to be. No, this was someone with serious power and money, who apparently controlled the ins and outs of the most luxurious nightclub in the city as if it was his own. And tonight, for whatever reason, he wanted you.

It was just one night, right? You let yourself relax and get lost in the unfamiliar pleasure as you reassure yourself.

This time, your glossy pink lips part easily as you leave curious kitten licks to his cockhead, taking in the salty taste of his precum. He immediately groaned, head tilting back against the sofa as he rasped at you to stop teasing.

You hum in response, sending vibrations through his shaft as you press wet kisses down it. You’re obediently following all the orders he gives to you as he strokes your hair almost gently, licking him up and down. When you finally take him into your mouth, he moans your name in approval, praising how good you were being. But you can barely take half of his length, already feeling your mouth stretch and struggling to breath. Let me take over, baby he says with a dark smirk, and within a second he’s lifted you up and deposited you on the floor, in between his spread legs. You’re trapped by muscular thighs as his grip tightens on you, and then he’s thrusting his hips right to the back of your throat. Fuck yes, there you go, just like that sweetheart, he encourages with a low groan, drowning out your high pitched whines with his jackhammering movements. Mmmh! Obscene, wet sounds of your mouth drooling all over him fills the air, as you choke on the largest cock you’d ever seen. You’re gripping onto him for dear life, your teary eyes making mascara run down your cheeks and only making him more turned on as he ruins your innocent, doe eyed look. And when he cums you don’t expect it, your mouth flooded with unfamiliar white cream that he covers your chubby, blushing cheeks and bouncing tits with as he pulls out mid release and makes a complete mess of your pretty makeup. Heavy pants fill the air as he comes down from his high, looking down at you with raw desire and approval. His thumb swipes his cum off your pouty lips and slides into your lips, smirking when you obediently suck on his finger. You wouldn’t have been able to tell it’s your first time, he teases.

After you clean yourself up in the private bathroom, too embarrassed to look at your positively debauched appearance in the mirror, you find Max signing a cheque that he folds in half that he discreetly leaves on the table. But before he leaves after apologising as he has business to attend to, bending down to your petite frame to give you a sweet kiss, he offers you a deal. To quit your job and be his private dancer, every night…and in turn he’d spoil you with whatever money or gifts your heart desired.

You decline, of course, telling him this was just a one time thing, you weren’t planning on dancing here ever again. He smirks, giving you a final appreciate once over, before declaring that was obvious, he wasn’t going to let another man see you dance like that again.

You don’t see him for a few weeks after that, and it’s almost as if that electric night had never happened at all. Things go back to normal and you resume your bartending job - although you notice that there is significantly more security hovering around your counter than before. But every night Max revisits you in your dreams, making you breathlessly moan from the memory of how good his tongue and hands felt on you, how they might feel inside you next time….you’d always wake up with damp panties.

And then one night everything changes, when a rowdy patron manages to get past the security guards and leer in your face. He remembers you from the dance show and when you try to move away he grabs onto your ass, telling you he wants another sexy performance, he demands with a pervy sneer, I know you secretly liked all the attention, like a slut.

The guards manage to get him off you but you’re shaken with how persistent the man had been. So shaken that you don’t realise the staff have pulled you into a side room until Max is in front of you, asking if you were okay with an intense gaze. He offers you his promise again, to provide for you and protect you - if you became his.

You’re annoyed with him, for just barging in and acting like you were some damsel. You hotly tell him that you're an independent girl, who wasn't going to let him have her in exchange for safety. I can take care of myself! He watched you walk off with a dark gaze, his blue eyes roaming your curves that he was desperate to get underneath him. And whatever Max Verstappen wanted, he always got.

The very next day chills run through your blood as the rowdy patron somehow turns up at your university campus. You quickly hide before he sees you, heart rate spiking as you realise he's found out who you are. Your pride melts away as you dial the number Max's men had put onto your phone despite your protests. Now, you're thankful that they did as a husky Dutch accent picks up. You're a mess on the call, crying and asking Max to please come and help-

I'm on my way, schatje. Go hide somewhere safe. After you hang up you realize you never told him where you were. But it doesn't matter, because the Dutch Lion is there within minutes, stepping out of a sleek black Aston Martin that looks like it costs more than all 5 years of your student debt. Your stalker doesn't stand a chance as he's pushed into a back alley easily by Max, who re-emerges a few moments later discreetly tucking what you're pretty sure is a handgun into his belt. You stare in stunned silence as he gestures to some men who have appeared to clean up whatever mess he left behind, before guiding you with a firm hand on your lower back into his luxurious car.

Still want to turn down what I can offer you, schatje? he murmurs lowly as he smoothly drives you home, his large hand resting on your thigh. And you realise that you don't, because for the first time in your life you don't have to fight tooth and nail to protect yourself. No - because Max had just proved he was willing to do that for you.

So you let yourself be worshipped, be cared for by him. And he knew how skittish you got, and started with baby steps - paying your phone bills, your groceries, and then your rent. Buying whatever handbag or necklace you would happen to briefly admire when walking past a shop, getting you a cute but outrageously expensive car so you stopped taking the train. And you can't lie about how good it feels to walk into class wearing diamond earrings and the Louboutin heels you'd always wanted, to have your mean classmates look at you in awe and envy.

And so when Max insisted that he couldn't let you stay at the dump you called a home any longer, that it was just unsafe for a sweet, precious thing like yourself - you barely resisted and moved into his spacious penthouse apartment. Truly, he gave you whatever you wanted, his toy that he spoils and lavishes however she likes - and at night, lets him climb into her bed to fuck however he wants. And oh, did he fuck you good. It became a habit for you to greet him after his late night meetings with a sweet kiss on the cheek and a gin on the rocks in your hand - which he would drink with you sitting on his lap, telling him animatedly about your day. And of course, he’d get to unwrap his present when he pulls off your silk nightie and widens his legs for you to kneel between them. Dressed in pretty pastel scraps of French lace you buy with his credit card, you’re dutifully slurping and kissing his thick, swollen cock and slapping it against your cheeks. You knew how much Max loved seeing his cum drip down your face and you’d make sure to wear extra eyeliner and lipgloss so he could enjoy the sight of you utterly ruined for him, stroking your mascara tear stained cheeks as you choke on his length. Such a fast learner, schatje Max chuckles at you, stroking your hair almost lovingly but the roughness of his thrusts anything but.

And most of all, you loved when Max would pick you up from class and casually announce that he was taking you away for the weekend. You’d been confused at first, stressed about the study time you were missing out on, but once you sit down in his private jet with you laptop and textbooks in hand you realise you’re truly going to be taken care of in every way. It’s impossible to resist the urge to give back the same to Max, to show him just how much affection you’ve started growing for him. So on those nights in some tropical island resort, with the breeze blowing in through open doors, you give him a free use pass. Whatever he wanted, however he wanted it - all weekend long. It’s to no surprise that you’re chained to the headboard within the hour, thighs tightly tied up around your waist so you’re spread open for him and he could see the wetness dripping through your lace thong. You’re whining, so embarrassed by how intently his heated gaze roams over your body that it’s a relief when he blindfolds you with his tie, and clips a collar around your neck with his initials gleaming from it. He teases you mercilessly, taking you right to the edge with his fingers or tongue but stopping just before you cum, until you’re screaming his name and begging him to fuck you already. And then he takes you for so many rounds that you’re crying for him to stop, it’s too much Maxie, you can’t cum a fourth time-

It’s safe to say you’ve grown into your place by Max’s side very well. You knew what others thought, from the jealous looks from your classmates when his Aston Martin rolls onto campus or the judgemental stares from other vacationers when you obediently sit in Max’s lap while he takes his business calls, dressed in a skimpy bikini and his collar that he absentmindedly traces before moving down to possessively curl his hand on your hip. But you couldn’t care less if they thought you were a trophy girlfriend or a sugar baby - because after all, he was the one wrapped around your pretty little finger, ready to wage a war if you so much as shed a tear.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[backofthebookshelf]

It's not a controversial take necessarily -- it's just that the particular environment of AO3, where you can see how many times your fic was loaded in a browser window and where the little heart button has a different meaning than it does on every other social media site, is uniquely bad for the human brain.

For the VAST majority of history, both the history of making art generally and the history of writing fanfiction in particular, you did not get to know how many people gave your work a cursory once-over, or how many people checked your book out from the library and never read it, or how many people overheard a line of poetry and thought "huh, neat" and never did anything else. These interactions were, as they should be, completely anonymous and uncountable. Even in the pre-AO3 days of fanfiction, there was an understanding that page hit counters were kind of crap (for one thing, they would count you every time you loaded the page, and you had to load the page to check the counter, so that was incentive not to look at it that much).

Even in other artistic contexts where you do now have page hit counters on everything, they're contextualized through marketing research, not consumed as a raw value. Marketing talks about conversion rate, which is the % of people who saw something who then went on to do the thing you wanted them to do - for a business that's probably buy the thing, for a nonprofit it might be donate or sign up for a volunteer session, for a fanfiction writer it's leave a comment. At work I work with multiple major companies you have definitely heard of who spend half a million dollars and 1-3 full time employees every year on something that increases their conversion rate by 1-2%. They do this because the conversion rate on our emails is 5%, which is INSANELY high.

And yes, leaving a comment doesn't cost money, but it does cost time and energy. Writers overestimate how easy it is for people to write comments--my coworkers are out here using chatgpt to write boilerplate work emails, I can't imagine ANY of them ever leaving a comment on a work of art they enjoyed. Verbally, yes--and "in a friend discord is much closer to verbally than in a comment form--but in writing? Absolutely not.

As for kudos, I can't help but think that the "likes don't do anything, you have to reblog" culture of social media like twitter and tumblr affects that too (and yes, by the latter days of twitter I was seeing people saying that on there, because the algorithm was so broken). Kudos is essentially a like button, and like the like button on twitter that used to be a favorite button before they changed it and some people never stopped treating it like one, it has meanings for people you'll never understand. "It's just a click!" It is a symbol with vague connotations but no specific universally agreed upon meaning; it tells you how many people clicked on that button, and that's all.

So yes, actually, I guess I am saying that as a writer, you are supposed to assume that many more people liked your fic than you will ever hear from or even know about. And that's a good thing! You have the chance to touch someone's life even though they have no idea who you are and don't think of you as a person so much as a semi-mythical figure called "the author". And that's part of the magic, to me, of creating things. You pour yourself into a thing and then you set it loose into the world and you hope it means to someone else as much as it meant to you. Sometimes, very rarely, someone will tell you so, and that's amazing, I'm not going to pretend it's not, but you have to have enough faith in yourself to believe it happens whether you hear about it or not.

I really don't understand how "without getting kudos or comments a fanfiction author is going to assume that people who clicked their fic didn't like it" became a controversial take.

I don't know why some people think an author should imagine, or guess that people who click their fic enjoyed it it when nobody is telling them that.

If you're re-reading a fic constantly, or leaving it up in your tab so that it re-loads every day for a hundred days the author is not going to know that unless you tell them. They'd love to hear it. It would make their day.

And if you don't tell them you liked their fic, there's no reason for them to assume you did.

[littelovelunette]

Sevika and a pregnant reader? Reader feels self-conscious about how her body has changed so Sevika has to fix that (smut please)

Little Bump

Contains smut, oral, pregnancy sex

You knew Sevika adored your baby bump because she'd stay up most of the night talking to it which you thought was a little ridiculous.

But did you like it?

Nuh-uh, I mean yeah it was sweet and all that you were carrying a symbol of your love with Sevika inside of your body, a little human of your own— but the stretch marks and body image issues it came with wasn't so fun afterall.

Although you were partially aware something like this would've happened because of all the darn pregnancy books you binged through, let's just say it's not the easiest when slapped onto your face at the worst possible moment ever.

Sevika noticed the way your gaze lingered a while too long on the marks on your stomach and breasts as you started slowly dressing for the day.

"What's up, hun?" She asked and looked your way with a tender gaze only reserved for you and nobody else... Except for Isha, of course.

You tried your best to smile anyway and brushed it off with a simple "Nothing."

"No, it's not nothing. I saw the way you looked at your body. It felt... Wrong." Sevika said and put down the book she was reading, taking her reading glasses off too, and settling both objects down on the coffee table.

She moved her boot adorned feet down from the table and walked upto you, muscular arm draping around you from behind like a blanket of warmth.

Her metal prosthetic clinked softly behind you, grounding her imposing presence. "Talk to me."

You sighed and tried to shake it off, "It's nothing, 'Vika, please, don't sweat it."

"Love." Sevika said in a warning tone, hand still gently caressing your baby bump making you smile at the sight. She was completely entranced by her unborn daughter already. "We agreed to be honest with each other." Sevika said, her voice like a soothing balm on your aching insecurities. "I tell you how many drinks I had and you tell me all the thoughts you have, honestly."

You chuckled at her comparison. She truly was a ray of sunshine behind her tough exterior.

You looked down at the floor for a bit before looking back up at her. "I just don't feel pretty. I have these stupid marks all over my thighs, ass and stomach. It's so—"

"So pretty." Sevika said and ran her finger over the stretch mark on your stomach making your breath hitch a little. "I love them. They're like thunderbolts." Sevika grinned like a satisfied child, hands still tracing your stretch marks before slowly coming up to cup your breasts. "And look they've grown too."

"Sevika..." You whisper and gasp a little when you feel her squeeze your swollen mounds making a little bit of breast milk seep out.

You giggled watching Sevika fawn over your plumper chest before she easily picked you up, and put you on the bed. "I can't have my wife feel bad for her own body, yknow, your body does wonders." Sevika knelt down, gently parting your legs to gain access to your sensitive pussy.

"Are you sure we should be having sex?" Your voice was quiet and vulnerable when you asked her but the way Sevika held you so gently as if you could break any moment was enough reassurance that she wouldn't be rough with you.

Sevika gave you a subtle nod with a little smile that followed, saying, "If anything hurts, tell me and I will stop." She gave your waist a small squeeze of reassurance.

"That's what you told me all those times before you didn't stop. You just kept it going." You said and smiled down at her, her chin pressed against the folds of your cunt which were pretty much already wet at the mere thought of having sex while you're pregnant.

"And do you say that didn't feel good?" Sevika narrowed her eyes although it was an exaggeration of her playful suspicion, she knew that you liked it because you were moaning her name right after and cumming around her cock quite instantly.

"I mean, no, no," you laughed a little, the corners of your eyes crinkling, "Not at all."

"Then let me make you feel good," Sevika leaned in and licked up on your pussy making you gasp and grab the sheets tightly. Her mouth worked diligently on your wet cunt, sucking up the wet mess you had become at the mere thought of being touched by her.

Sevika held your thighs open, her touch surprisingly gentle as she sucked your clit in her mouth, suckling hard on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"F-f-fuck," your mouth opened and closed, moaning feeling her tongue tease your cunt. Sevika pulled back and spat on your pussy before she resumed licking and sucking. She pushed her long tongue inside your cunt, stuffing her face into your cunt as if she didn't know oxygen.

"S-Sevika, it feels so good," you said, tears appearing in your eyes as you felt the waves of pleasure shoot up from your needy pussy.

Hot tears began to stream down your face as Sevika licked and sucked on your cunt, your body shuddered. "C-cumming..." You said, your fingers tangling in Sevika's hair and stuffing her face further onto your heat as you came on her face.

Sevika pulled away, face drenched in your liquids, "So much for not wanting sex," Sevika rubbed your baby bump, kissing at the stretch marks and whatever other marks you had on your body.

"Just stay with me now," you whispered, exhausted. Sevika smiled and sunk into the mattress beside you, spooning you, "Will do."

[rafes-slut]

Let me show you

Summary: when you admitt to rafe that you never had sex and that you never even tried to touch yourself. he offers helps and guids you thrue every step on how to do it

Pairing: bsf!Rafe Cameron x Shy!Soft!reader Warnings: Smut (explicit sexual content), virginity loss discussion, self-exploration, mutual pleasure, best friends tension, Rafe being both teasing and patient, lots of praise, heavy sexual tension, explicit language.

----

The living room was dimly lit, the soft glow from the TV screen casting flickering shadows across the couch where you and Rafe sat. Movie nights had become a routine between the two of you—something comfortable, something easy. Best friends, nothing more, nothing less. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

But tonight felt different.

The moment the scene changed, the tension in the air became undeniable. The movie had taken an unexpected turn, shifting from action-packed plotlines to something much more... intimate. The soft moans and the slow, sensual movements of the actors filled the room, making your stomach tighten and heat rush to your cheeks. You swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of how close Rafe was beside you, his long legs sprawled out comfortably, an arm lazily draped over the back of the couch.

You shrank into yourself, pulling your knees up and hugging them close in an attempt to disappear. Maybe if you didn’t move, if you didn’t react, he wouldn’t notice.

But Rafe always noticed.

His head turned toward you, a slow smirk creeping onto his face. "What’s wrong with you?"

You shook your head quickly, refusing to meet his gaze. "Nothing."

He chuckled, clearly unconvinced. "Yeah? Then why are you all curled up like you just saw a damn ghost?" He nudged your arm playfully, but his eyes stayed locked on your face, sharp and calculating.

"I just... I wasn’t expecting that scene," you muttered, your voice embarrassingly small.

"Oh, come on," Rafe scoffed. "What, you never seen a sex scene before?" He paused, and when you didn’t answer, his smirk widened. "Wait... don’t tell me."

Your silence was loud enough.

Rafe blinked. "You’re serious?"

You sighed, forcing yourself to look at him even though your entire body felt like it was burning up. "It’s not a big deal."

"No, it kinda is," he mused, tilting his head as if he were studying you. "Like—never? You've never... done anything?"

You shook your head, fingers gripping the hem of your hoodie. "I mean, I’ve kissed people, obviously, but... I’ve never gone further."

Rafe sat back, running a hand through his hair as he let that information settle. "Huh. Never would’ve guessed."

Your heart pounded in your chest. "Yeah, well. Now you know."

But then he looked at you again, something unreadable flashing behind those sharp blue eyes. "Wait. Are you telling me you’ve never even touched yourself?"

You froze.

A nervous laugh slipped past your lips as you tried to wave him off. "Rafe—"

"No fucking way," he cut you off, grinning like he just discovered something life-changing. "You're actually serious. You’ve never, not even once—"

"Shut up!" you hissed, burying your face in your hands, mortified. "God, why did I even tell you?"

He laughed, but there was something else behind it—something intrigued, something darkly amused. "That’s wild, babe. Like, actually insane. What do you do when you get turned on?"

You groaned. "Can we not—"

"No, no, this is important," he pressed, leaning in closer, his voice lower now. "You just ignore it? You just... let it go away?"

You nodded, still not daring to look at him.

Rafe exhaled sharply, shaking his head in disbelief. "That’s a damn shame."

You dared to peek at him through your fingers. "Why do you even care?"

He grinned. "Because, sweetheart, I think someone should teach you. And lucky for you... I'm a great teacher."

Your breath caught in your throat. "Rafe—"

"Relax, I'm not saying we gotta do anything crazy." His voice had softened, but there was a distinct edge to it, something teasing, something laced with heat. "Just let me show you. You don’t have to do anything, just... follow my lead."

Your thighs clenched instinctively, a new kind of nervousness washing over you. "I don’t know..."

Rafe reached out, fingers gently brushing against yours. "I promise I’ll take care of you, baby." His voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "Let me show you how good it can feel."

Your pulse was racing, the room suddenly feeling way too small, way too warm. You shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t.

But then you nodded.

And Rafe smirked like he’d just won the biggest game of his life.

"Good girl."

—

Rafe took his time, his voice smooth and reassuring as he guided you. His hands never left yours, his fingers wrapped around your wrist as he coaxed you into exploring yourself. "Slow," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "Don't rush it, baby. Feel everything."

The soft whimper that slipped past your lips had him groaning low in his throat. "Fuck," he muttered, shifting beside you. "You sound so pretty."

You had never felt this before—this throbbing ache, this intoxicating heat pooling in your stomach. Rafe’s presence, his touch, his voice—it was overwhelming in the best way. And when you faltered, unsure, frustrated by your own inexperience, he was right there, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispered, "Let me."

And when you finally caved, when you whispered his name with desperate need, he didn’t hesitate.

His hand replaced yours, firm and confident, his touch sending shockwaves through your trembling body. "That’s it, baby," he praised, watching you with hungry, hooded eyes. "Let me take care of you."

He was slow, deliberate, making sure you felt everything, making sure you knew exactly how good he could make you feel. His fingers curled just right, pressing into the spot that had your back arching and your breath hitching in a broken moan.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. "You’re so fucking wet."

Your nails dug into his arm as pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body shuddering against him as he coaxed you through your first orgasm. And when it was over, when you finally collapsed against his chest, breathless and spent, he chuckled, pressing a lazy kiss to your forehead.

"Told you I was a good teacher."

[lostinlovingrevery]

Cat-and-Mouse

Cowboy! Logan X F! Reader

You can run, but he'll always catch you

A/N: A lil hint of the dynamics between reader and Logan in the cowboy!Logan series that I will eventually (hopefully) write. This could be considered standalone tho! also this isn't going to be the only fic where you get lasso'd by Logan (im a lil obsessed w the idea)

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, CNC elements but not really?, unprotected PiV, you get Lasso'd and tied up lol, creampie, it's complicated style relationship, possessive logan, a little bit of mean!logan too, outdoor sex? kind of a plot

Your feet pounded against the dirt as you ran.

Your heartbeat flooded your ears. Adrenaline coursed through your body, pushing you faster than you ever have before. Your hair and dress were with the wind as you ran. You nearly tripped several times from your skirt tangling with your legs. 

Ahead all you saw was a dirt road, lined with trees, towering over you- silent watchers. It seemed endless but it was the only option you got. All roads lead to somewhere. 

The thundering of hoofprints was distant, but there.

Reason told you, you weren’t going to win this chase. Panic pushed you faster, beyond your limits.

You hear a sound of a rope, as you turn your head to see a lasso twirling through the air, before being tossed in your direction. The feeling of a rope wraps around you, tight, constricting your arms to your torso, and pulling you back with a harsh tug. You landed into the dirt, your body rolling backwards as it followed the tug of the rope, making your pretty white dress dirty, and your face smeared with dust. 

You pant, your lungs desperate for you, your head screaming at you to get up. You rolled to your side, but the wind had been knocked out of you so fiercely you couldn’t utter the strength to get up.

You heard the sound of a horse huffing nearby, before the sound of boots landing into the dirt. A steady, slow walk towards you, the jingle of spurs filling you with anticipation. 

“Well now. You enjoy that run, little rabbit?”

You open your eyes, squinting up at the sky where the sun blinded you until he came into view. His body shielded you from the sun's harsh light, but created a foreboding darkness as shadows covered him as he looked down at you with a smirk. 

He leaned down, a small grunt escaping him, as he picked you up with ease with one hand, grabbing your arm and bringing you to your feet. He turned you around roughly, binding you with the lasso, tying it- not uncomfortably, but reminded you that you were bound and helpless to him. He spun you back around, his hand coming up to clench your jaw.

“I thought we were done with that little cat-and-mouse game.” He mumbles. “Trying to break an old cowboy's heart?” 

You scowled at him and he forcefully tightened his grip on you. Pulling you closer, and forcing you to look into his eyes. “Do I need to remind you of a few things?” 

You yelped as he lifted you up, throwing you over his shoulder with ease like a bale of hay. He clicked his tongue, 

“C’mon Cinnamon.” He orders his horse, who then follows him at will, as he begins walking down the road. You attempted to wiggle from his grasp, but his hand came up, smacking you harshly on the ass, making you yelp- and cease your struggle. “Settle down there bunny.” He taunts, making your face hot in embarrassment. 

He didn’t carry you for long, just somewhere off-road. Cinnamon was left to graze while he put you somewhere more secluded. He dropped you onto the grass, gently but still made you gasp. You struggle a bit, pushing yourself to sit up, as he stands over you and watches with disappointment.

“Logan.” You looked up at him angrily. 

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head. 

“Let me go.”

He clicked his tongue, baring his teeth as he sucked air through them. Look up and around at the nature that surrounds you both. A small clearing with a nearby pond. It would be a pretty place to relax in- if it weren’t for your current circumstances. He looked back down at you, and you saw a flash of anger on his face that sent chills down your spine. 

He kicked your legs open roughly, kneeling down between them as his hand went around your neck, pushing you back onto the grass, before hiking your dress up to your waist as his other hand cupped your clothed cunt. You let out a whine, turning your head away from him.

He chuckled. “I told you. You’re mine now.” He says lowering himself to your ear. His fingers pushed your panties aside, brushing through your folds, making your hips involuntarily thrust. “You still got me leaking out of ya, and you thought you could run?” He tsks. 

You turned your head to look up at him, a pout on your lips. 

“Should’ve kept you tied up but I thought you were smarter than that.” He leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours, his nose bumping into yours as his lips sit a mere inch away. 

You began to tip your head up to kiss him, but he pulled away. “Nice try.” He smirked, before his eyes flashed with possessiveness, and his voice turned low. “You’re going to pay for that lil escapade you just did.” 

He sat back up, undoing his belt and holster, dropping it to the side. He shoved his pants down to his thighs, and his thick cock popped out, hard already. He pushed your skirt father up, pulling your panties off you. 

In a swift movement, he grabbed the rope bounding you, pulling you onto his lap. You felt his cock brush over your folds and the chilling warmth of fear and arousal rushed over you. Taking his hat off, he placed it over your head firmly.

He leaned back onto the grass, gazing at you above him, as he goes and pushes you up, before angling his cock at your entrance. 

“Go on. You don’t got a choice.” 

Your lips parted, a gasp escaping you as your head fell back, the stretch as you began to lower yourself over him, pain and pleasure wrapped into a delicious combo that made your thighs tremble. You purse your lips together, before looking at him pleadingly.

“C’mon now. None of that. You took me so well last night darling.” He purred. “and I know you loved every goddamn second of it. Get moving.” 

You continued lowering yourself onto him, down to the hilt. Tears well in your eyes as you attempt to adjust to the size of him. Somehow, it felt harder lowering yourself over him- than it did when he fucked into you. He knew how to take care of you better than you did yourself.

“Goddamn sweetheart.” He let out a groan, tipping his head back for a moment as his grip tightened over the rope.

His hand caressed your thigh. He didn’t loosen his grip on the rope that bound you. A small tug of the rope, and an order. The sound of his voice dared you to disobey.

“Now, ride me cowgirl.” 

With a trembling body, you began to lift yourself up, and back down his cock. Without the use of your arms to support yourself, you find more strain in your legs as you attempt to move up and down his girth. 

Not wanting to disappoint- or anger him more, you pushed through it. Small whimpers escaped you, as pleasure began to erupt through your body. The ache melted into something honey-like. Your arms pressed into the rope as you arched your back, wishing to go faster but not having the strength to. 

His hand continued caressing your thigh, as he watched you with satisfaction at seeing you bound and struggling. Your cunt was squeezing so tight around him, despite how he had fucked you last night. It was cute, how you thought you could get away from him.

Maybe you did. Several times in fact.

He always found you. He always will.

You crawled under his skin. Become an itch he can’t scratch - only you could. 

Your thighs were beginning to give out. He could see the tears threatening to break through as your lips parted. Your previous cardio had already left you exhausted, and now you were at your breaking point, your vision becoming blurry, as the burn in your legs started to numb. 

Suddenly, your world shifts, and you feel the cool grass on your back. 

A hard thrust left you whining Logans name. A warm chuckle graced your ears. 

“Let this be a lesson, little bunny.” He says, his gloved hand softly brushing some hair out of your face, before gripping it and making you open your eyes and look at him. “You can run, much as you want, but I’m always going to find you.” 

You let out a soft gasp. “Logan.” 

“Hm?”

“I just want to keep you safe.” 

The hardness on his face softens. He leans forward and captures your lips in a possessive kiss. Slowly he began moving his hips against yours, thrusting in and out, small hiccups escaping you as you attempted to kiss him back. 

His arm wrapped around your back, adjusting you by lifting your hips higher, the angle sent you careening, as his cock continues to bury himself inside you over and over. He moved down to your neck, sucking and nipping at your skin. You heard small grunts escaping him with every hard thrust inside you. 

You wanted to grab him, hold onto him as he claimed you. The lasso he had caught you with, tied you, kept you restricted from him. His own barrier he’s made between you- yet doesn’t acknowledge. 

His thrusts become erratic, his grasp around your waist becoming tighter as he buries himself into your neck. His hand braced into the grass next to your head digging into the dirt. You let out a cry tilting your head towards, as you felt your own overwhelming finish approach. A tight sensation in your lower belly that finally snaps at his next words,

“You’re mine-” He growls. “No ones fucking taking you from me. Got that?”

You moaned, tipping your head back as relief washed over you. Pleasure rolled through in waves as you squeezed him over and over, now merely rutting into you until he came to his own finish, burying himself inside you as he let out a guttural moan. He takes a moment to catch his breath, before pulling out of you. 

He sat up, pulling his pants up over himself, setting the buckle back in place as he looked down at you. Seemingly hypnotized by your ruined form. Your legs spread wide still, as you shook, and his cum beaded out of you slowly. Dirt covered your dress and skin. Your hair was a mess. 

“Think ya got the message now?” He says in a low grumble. You opened your eyes and looked at him. You didn’t respond. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t consider yourself his. At this point, you were utterly devoted. Your lives though were complicated. 

You couldn’t risk losing him.

He smirked. “No? Guess I’ll just have to keep ya tied up darling.”

[adrienneleclerc]

Hello! You could make a Fanfic where Toto Wolff's daughter begs her father to make a contract for her boyfriend (Carlos Sainz) in the Mercedes team so that he doesn't go to Williams 💗

Yes! And I’ll be using one of my favorite Hannah Montana quotes because Y/N will DEFINITELY be a Daddy’s Girl.

Pretty Please

Summary: Y/N Wolff is dating Carlos Sainz and is unhappy to hear that Carlos is thinking about signing with Williams.

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors, Williams hate

A/N: any hate towards Williams are things I have heard other people say. I’m also trying to get through ALL my requests so bear with me, please.

You were chilling with Carlos when he received a call. He kissed yourcheek and excused himself to take the call in another room. A few minutes have passed and Carlos walked back in with a smile.

“What’s got you all smiley?” You asked him.

“I got an offer from Williams to be their driver for the 2025 season.” Carlos said. You were in shock, however, remembering how James Vowels had a history of getting rid of their second drivers before the season finishes, thinking about Nicholas and Logan. You don’t want the same thing to happen to Carlos. But Carlos is a good driver, he knows what he’s doing.

“That’s great, babe, I’m so happy for you.” You hugged him after you said it.

In front of Carlos, you act very supportive of his decision, but in reality, you’re thinking about how you could convince your dad to sign Carlos. Carlos dropped you off at home, and when you opened the door, your mom was cooking food while your dad and brother were watching TV.

“Sweetheart, you’re just in time for dinner, have a seat. Toto, Jack, you guys too.” Your mom said. You put your things in your room, washed your hands, and sat down for dinner. “How was lunch with Carlos?”

“It was good, he’s recently got an offer to join Williams.” You said.

“That’s good, he’s a talented driver, he deserves to be in the new season.” Your dad commented.

“I like Carlos! He lets me play with his dogs.” Your brother jack said.

“Yeah, he’s talented all right, definitely too talented to drive for Williams.” You said, your dad doesn’t even have to look up from his plate to know you’re giving him puppy dog eyes, he can hear the begging tone in your voice.

“Ah no, nope, I already have a driver in mind for 2025, i can’t sign Carlos.” he said, getting up to get a beer, you followed him.

“How many ‘pretty’s do I have to put in front of the word ‘please’ for you to make Carlos a contract? Pretty, pretty…” You said training behind him. "Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty please, daddy, please!" You begged, stepping in front of the fridge before he had the chance to open it.

"Woah!" Your father exclaimed, putting his hands up as if he was surprised.

"Does that mean you'll sign him?" You asked hopefully

"No, it means you can stop. I already have Kimi Antonelli lined up to join Mercedes, you know this.” Your father said, moving you to open the fridge and get himself a beer.

"Dad, come on! It’s better for Kimi to have one more year in Formula 2, you know how everyone treated Logan, they all said he wasn’t ready to join F1. Kimi is just a kid, one more year until he can join and Carlos will join Audi in 2026.” You said.

“Charles Leclerc also did one year of F2.” Toto argued.

“But he didn’t join Ferrari right away, dad. He was in Sauber first before joining Ferrari. Wouldn’t it be better for kimi to go to Williams to get more F1 experience before joining Mercedes?” You asked your dad.

“I’ll think about it.” He said and you frowned.

“I’m not Jack’s age anymore, dad. I know ‘I’ll think about it’ means ‘ain’t gonna happen but nice try.’” You said, crossing your arms.

“I’ll think about it. But can we finish dinner first, please.” Toto said and you nodded.

It’s been a week since your conversation with your dad and you were losing hope until you saw Carlos and your dad talking. They shook hands, you decided to approach them,

“What’s going on here?” You asked, standing beside Carlos.

“You are looking at Mercedes’s new driver.” Carlos said, hugging you. You were in shock but hugged him back.

“Really? Omg, Im so happy for you!” You exclaimed, your father winked at you and you mouthed him a thank you.

“Took a lot of convincing though.” Toto joked.

“The contract is really good, I read it over three times, and signed today.” Carlos said.

“That’s great, how about we go out to celebrate? My treat.” You offered and Carlos nodded. You guys walked away and just when your father was out of earshot, Carlos whispered thank you in your ear. “For what?”

“I know you talked to your dad about me.” Carlos said,

“Are you mad?” You asked.

“Max that my girlfriend loves me so much she’ll convince her dad to write me up a contract? I know you were just looking out for me.” Carlos said.

“Well yeah, i Don’t really like how James treats his second drivers, I did not want you getting that treatment at all.” You pouted. Carlos kissed your pout away.

“I Love you so much.” Carlos said.

“I love you too.” You said.

The End

Hope y’all liked it!

[sailoryuns]

LUST ─── JJH

genre. jaehyun x f!reader | strangers to ??? (wtv they got going on in this dynamic)

warnings. kinda angsty, some fluff i suppose, smut, mentions of alcohol & smoking (cigs), dom!jaehyun & sub!reader, hookup culture, slight corruption?, reader cries a lot, spanking, choking, oral (m. rec), fingering, unprotected s*x (don’t be stupid pls), reader gets fucked against a window, jaehyun is a little mean in this oops wc -> 3.2k

now playing 🎧 — wus good / curious by partynextdoor

it happened two years ago, yet the memories of that fateful day still carry on with you as if it were yesterday. vibrant recollections of those slender, jewelled hands clasped around your neck as you cry out for him, body subconsciously submitting to all of him— breaking every barrier you’ve built up within. of all your years of existence, that night was the only time you’ve felt truly alive, shedding every ounce of innocence away in one night for a man whose name you didn’t even know.

do you regret losing your virginity to someone who only saw you as a temporary plaything? partly yes and partly no. you were conflicted on the fact you never exchanged info after he left but other than that, nothing regrettable came out of it. the only issue per se was that he’s set your standards far into oblivion, you’ve yet to find a lay as memorable as he was.

it’s not as though you haven’t tried getting over it in the past— you’ve been desperately wishing to forget. suppressing your inner desires with all kinds of self pleasure methods; even going so far as to banging other hot strangers you meet from the bars/club—but even then, you couldn’t replicate how you felt with him and you still couldn’t reach your climax without thinking of your first time.

you’d catch yourself daydreaming of him daily. the raspy tone of his voice, the intoxicating aroma of expensive cologne, his chiseled facial features, and sublime sense of style. everything you could’ve ever wanted, slipped away from your grasp forever. that was, until you were met face to face with him again— a total of 738 days later (yes you did the math).

you went bar hopping downtown with all your girl friends, looking for an eventful weekend. little did you know you’d be running into him again, the nameless man that gave you a night to remember. you were definitely the first to notice him, it felt quite peculiar but as soon as you walked in you got struck with a weird deja vu moment. it all felt so familiar to you, even down to the symphonic melodies of jazz music playing in the distance, everything brought you back to that gloomy autumn night.

you’d try your dearest not to stare but your mind was not complying with any rationality, one look at his broad physique and it was endgame for all your sanity. it didn’t help that your body went inert, lost in a trance of him indefinitely, wanting nothing more than to worship him and give in to his every need. you reminisce about him telling you how much of a good girl you were for taking all of it, sucking on his fingers as you completely come undone underneath him. he left you begging for more that night, crying and pleading for at least a goodbye kiss— which you never got the pleasure of getting.

“i told you this was a one time thing only.. besides, i’m leaving the city tomorrow for good so you’ll probably never see me again. it’s for the best anyway.”

his cold last words left more than a lasting impression on you. it sent you into an endless spiral of overthinking, analyzing any and everything you could’ve done wrong. did that night really mean absolutely nothing to him at all? all the countless times you’d touch yourself to vivid recounts of his face pressed into your thigh, plastering wet kisses all over them and sucking on your bruised skin.

he’d spank each thigh one by one as a punishment, proudly smirking at the way you’d wince out in pain mixed with so much pleasure. he thrived off the idea that he was the first to corrupt you like this, a girl he hasn’t even known for a span of 24 hours willing to give up just about anything she had to offer. had you utterly wrapped around his finger like a brainless puppet.

you still don’t understand how someone can look so divine, even when doing nothing but just standing. you watch as he sips viognier out of an oversized wine glass, gazing at the crowd, ruffling his fingers through his hair from time to time. then it became unreal when you locked eyes with him, catching him stealing a glance when he realizes who you were.

you look almost exactly the same as you did a few years ago, the only part that’s different about you now is the recent butterfly tattoo you got on your lower back. that’ll be a pleasant surprise for him to find out. his eyes never drifted once they landed on you, he was in just as much shock as you were— maybe more. he’d made an internal promise to himself to keep you as a forever one time fling—nothing more just that, but if fate wasn’t real then why would the universe send you back into each other’s lives?

no, not a romantic kind of fate. the fate you get when someone you’ve mindlessly lusted over for ages has finally found its way to you again. a fate that doesn’t occur by chance, or coincidence, it was pure destiny awaiting to happen.

“wow, you haven’t changed at all have you?” he says nonchalantly, acting as if you were an old friend he was catching up with.

you weren’t sure how to respond, the surrealism of the moment brought you everywhere but reality. all you really could do was blink, fluttering your lashes at his towering figure over you. though there was a sea of people in this packed, lively bar, it felt like only you two existed in this confined space. he tried striking up the usual basic conversation with the typical: how’re your studies going? work’s been treating you well? anything exciting happen in your life recently? you gave as much of a vague answer as you could, barely putting any thought or effort, you were only giving him the same treatment that he gave back then. he would often come off as bored or condescending at times, it felt good to take back just the little bit of power you upheld.

you quietly observe as he orders another drink, two actually, not even bothering to ask what you wanted. he hands you a glass with a salted rim, the clear liquid made you believe it was either vodka or tequila, either way you gulped it down in no time and squeeze the lime on the side as chaser. you didn’t have much to drink but his presence alone was already enough to make you feel tipsy.

“i thought you said you were never coming back to the city?” you blurt out, instantly scolding yourself for bringing up the past this quickly. it was just the undying curiosity of wanting to know the inner depths of him, not the stonewall of a persona he portrays to be.

“i don’t know, guess i just felt like visiting. also had some unfinished business to attend to.”

there he goes again with those subtle answers, toying with you so easily. his responses have always annoyed you to a certain extent but this feels even more strange for some reason. what’s the “unfinished business” he’s referring to?

“so” he pauses, never actually finishing his thought.

“so..” you awkwardly mimic, hoping he’ll spit out whatever the hell he has to say.

it took some time before he clears his throat and takes a sip of what seemed like his fiftieth drink of the night. “soo, do you…maybe wanna get out of here?” you’re not sure what’s with the shy act suddenly, he wasn’t this timid when you first met him. it’s like you’re meeting a whole new person.

“uhm, sure i guess” you spoke hesitantly, taking his hand as he reaches out for yours. bumping into loads of drunk people while he weaved you through the crowd, it felt like multiple eternities before you’ve found the exit. he lights a cigarette before heading down the vintage spiral staircase, still hand in hand with you.

“goddamn… look at your fine ass. still just as sexy as i remember you last time.” he gracefully compliments, walking slightly behind in attempts of getting better sight at the back view of the form fitting dress you wore. his hand left yours in favor of wrapping around your waist.

“thanks..” you reply sheepishly, hoping that he doesn’t notice how flushed your cheeks are. before getting in his car, there was one more thing you needed closure with, the one thing that constantly kept you up at night.

“i don’t mean to be this straightforward but, i want to know your name. i know this probably sounds really lame and pathetic but it’s been eating me up inside since the day we met and… i just- i think i deserve the right to know is all.” you wanted to scream at your poor delivery, sounding nowhere near as confident as you did in your head. the cigarette was still tucked between his lips, taking another long drag before answering you.

“damn, even after all this time i still occupy your mind sweetheart? that’s cute,” he teases, reveling in on your confession. “but i suppose i can agree with you since i did keep you guessing for so long. it’s only fair you should know, right?” that sly little smirk never left his face, he knows exactly how to mess with you. “it’s jaehyun. and you are?” ah, so he really does have a name.

“y/n.” you mutter, looking down at the pavement.

“that’s pretty, i like it. suits you well.” his hand raises yours to his lips, kissing it gently, “nice to formally meet you, y/n.”

your eyes dart at him reluctantly, hoping your palms weren’t too clammy. “you too, jaehyun.”

none of this still felt real to you, you wanted to pinch yourself and wake up immediately.

“it’s kinda hot the way you say my name.” he casually admits, the grin on his face deepens, “but that won’t be the only thing you’ll be screaming at the top of your lungs tonight.”

this certainly wasn’t the first (or last) time you found yourself like this. getting severe brush burn from the carpet by being obediently on your knees, swiftly bobbing your head as tears stream down your face, ruining your precious mascara. the only audible sounds were his groans echoing in the room of this giant suite at the four seasons. it gave a sense of familiarity, and oddly enough you found comfort in being in such a compromised situation. especially with him again.

“fuck, you’re so pretty,” he grunts, grabbing a fistful of hair, never taking his eyes off you. “look even prettier with my cock stuffed deep in your mouth.” his words sent chills, all you wanted to do was keep pleasing him.

your mind goes hazy from the end of his shaft hitting the back of your throat, other than the tears, you showed no outright emotion—you had to endure this, you’ve been praying for this moment since your first ever encounter. big doe-like eyes look up at him innocently as you suck the soul out of him, all the shiny gloss you wore on your lips now completely transferred onto him, in this perspective, you were utterly perfect.

“shit- forgot how good you were at this..” he hisses, watching as you kneel beneath him, saliva glistening on your chin as you gag all over his thick cock.

you do the best you can to fit all of him, you did learn from the best after all. you hum against him in response, feeling his cock twitch from the sudden vibrations. if you keep going like this he’s bound to cum for sure, but he doesn’t want to give you that satisfaction— he wants to have all the power and control.

“get up.” he spat harshly, if you swirl your tongue around him like that one more time he feels as though he’s about to combust. the choice of only taking him further in made him even angrier.

“did you not fucking hear me? i said get. the. fuck. up.” he pulls your hair tighter to yank your head back, forcing a semi-loud *pop* with your lips as you detach from his cock, swallowing the string of drool from the corner of your mouth.

silly you for keep going, you should’ve listened the first time. now your forever fantasy of getting to suck him dry and drink his cum has sadly been cut short...

“since you’re so damn greedy for this cock why don’t you go stand up against that window while i fuck you, hm?” your face becomes mortified when you haven’t realized just how big those windows truly were. it took up a quarter of the living room and the curtains were never closed which you also failed to notice. you were at the top floor of this fifty-two story building but still, you were rightfully nervous out of your mind.

the next thing you knew, your body’s pressed up to the cold glass, his big hands caressing both sides of your waist and trailing kisses to the exposed skin on your back. you watch the faint reflection of him toying with the hem of your mini dress, slowly pulling it up then stopping when he gets to a certain point.

“oh.. what’s this here?” he asks, glancing down at your butterfly tattoo, his fingertips lightly grazing over the fresh ink. “guess you aren’t so innocent as i thought you were.”

you shook your head, biting your lip when he gropes your ass, “never was innocent..” you quietly mewl.

“oh yeah?” he breaths warmly against your neck, hiking the dress up further. “then be a good little slut for me and don’t speak unless i tell you to.” the palm of his hand slaps your cheek hard enough to leave a visible print, pushing you up against the window more.

you were enjoying every single minute of this, you were so elated that you could cry again. you feel his touch down lower, grazing over your folds to feel how wet you are.

“shit, you’re already dripping like this just from sucking me off? always knew you were such a filthy whore.” two fingers slid into your heat with ease, pumping them in and out.

“nngh,” you moan lowly, “shh, quiet for me doll. wait ‘til i fill you with my cock then you can scream all you want.” when he pulls them out his chest collides with your back, rubbing himself between your folds and bringing his drenched fingers up to your mouth. of course, you open eagerly to suck on his sleek digits, you remember doing this exact thing last time.

history truly does repeat itself.

once he fully settles in, the clench of you around him makes his brain all fuzzy, you feel so warm and inviting, could stay like this forever.

“fuck..so fucking tight” he husks, firmly gripping at your waist before he begins moving.

first he goes at a normal pace, stuffing you nice and slow with delicate kisses to your shoulders. he soon built up more momentum, sending powerful strides into your soaking cunt as your bodies clash together. you arch your back more as he his cock hits your walls deeper, mumbling a bunch of gibberish whilst he fucks you completely dumb.

“what’s that doll? can’t hear you, speak the fuck up.” he orders sternly, producing another harsh, loud slap to your ass— never letting up on his stamina.

“mmh, fuck. you’re so big, feels so good..” you whine, feeling nothing but cockdumb at this point.

“yeah? you like the way i stretch this pussy out? gonna cream all over my cock just like you did for me last time baby?” his strokes get rougher with each question.

“yes…yes.. oh fuck- jaehyun!” you chant his name over and over like you’re casting a spell, the ring of his name slips on your tongue smoother than the pungent liquor you drank earlier.

“only i can fuck you as good as this right? have you acting this obedient and submissive? bet you were manifesting this shit all along, just can’t enough of my cock can you?” the questions just won’t stop, and the waterworks soon start up again, you’re not sure how much more you can endure.

“don’t even fucking answer, i already know anyway.” his cockiness really pissed you off but at least he had the evidence to back his arrogance up.

his pace grew relentless as he watches himself disappear in you, still gawking over the pretty design of the butterfly. you felt so close— that same knot tied in your stomach like you felt before; you haven’t had this feeling since the very first time, as if only jaehyun was the one to unlock this level of passion out of you.

“g-gonna cum soon..” you alert him, tasting the faint bitter saltiness from your tears pooling down. a pair of strong hands connect around your neck, wrapping tightly as he rams in harder, making every bone in your body tremble and shake.

“go ahead, do it.” jaehyun encourages supportively, “cum with me dollface.”

those words were all you needed to hear to let go, screaming out his name and a slew of more curses. you feel your release drip down your leg, mind completely blank from the buzz taking over you. he quickly pulls out, spilling his white seed onto your back as you whine from being empty again. you could honestly go for another round if he asked you to right now. it was fun while it lasted though, looking over at the skyline view as you’re getting your back blown out— seemed like a literal dream come true.

the aftermath was quiet, you didn’t say much and neither did he, you reverted right back to your shy demeanor. after you’ve finished cleaning up yourself in the bathroom you grabbed your purse to rummage for your house keys but he stops you mid action.

“where’re you going?” that only confuses you more, where else would you be going?

“uh, home?” you meekly respond, unsure of his real intentions.

“don’t be like that, you can stay the night here.” he suggests, “my flight leaves in the morning though but you can sleep here for as long as you’d like, i’ll book this room for an extra day.”

it was sweet of him to do that for you, it was the least he could do to mellow your sorrows. you were hoping to be with him for a bit longer but what were you expecting really? he’s just someone who comes and goes, taking everything you had to give, just to leave you high and dry all over again.

“come here.” jaehyun directs assertively, patting his thigh for you to sit on his lap, you waste no time in propping yourself onto him. “don’t be sad doll, cheer up. we’ll meet again sometime, yeah?”

you nod, feeling so hopeless and broken inside, he’s only saying this because he probably just wants to fuck again. that’s all you are to him, a fucktoy and nothing more. even though he sees you in that light, it still makes you feel validated in some twisted kind of way. at least right now you have all of his attention, it may just be momentarily but it felt so good. one thing was definitely made clear by him though— he was deeply, undeniably, in pure lust with you.

- 完 ♡︎

[daegorth]

I need people to know how I got into the show.

I saw a couple of truly unhinged posts on Tumblr a couple of weeks ago (thinking back now, they weren't even that weird in context, but yk... It's Severance)

I said to myself : "Well, I was meaning to start watching something new, and I've got truly delicious pizza for dinner, let's pair it with that insane show I heard about."

I was looking for an... Alternative streaming service (wink wink) in a hurry because the pizza was getting cold, and I found the series page. I didn't realize it gave me the last episode that had been released, and so I naively, innocently, carelessly pressed play.

You guys. It was Woe's Hollow.

I just.... Watched it from start to finish. It didn't make any fucking sense I was so lost, but I had got the general insane/confusing/weir vibe from those couple of posts, so I was like... "Well. It's weird and off-putting and I feel like I've been dropped into the middle of something quite complex and the show is giving me NO guidance. Maybe that's on purpose???"

My brain hurt because it was twisting itself in knots trying to make sense of it. These are some of the thoughts I had:

Why are these guys in the middle of a snowy forest? Wasn't this supposed to be about an office???

What do you MEAN that's the tallest waterfall on earth, and why do these guys see no problem with that affirmation???

Who the fuck is this couple of twins and why are we hearing their story as if it was a long lost book from the bible???

There are clones in this show??? Are those the innies I was hearing about? No wait, are the others the innies???

WHO THE FUCK IS THE NIGHT GARDENER??? WHAT'S WRONG WITH THAT OLD GUY, WHY IS HE BULLYING THAT WOMAN???

This Mr Milchik is supremely creepy. Gives off robot vibes. DO NOT LIKE HIM.

There's a missing wife that needs rescue. Outies mentions. What the fuck is happening?? (This last part was said out loud numerous times)

Who's Burt and why does the mere mention of his name send the mean old man running away to almost freeze to death in the forest while heavily hallucinating???

WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING, WHAT'S WRONG WITH THAT OLD GUY, HE'S FULLY WATERBOARDING SOMEONE???

Oh. What? Wait it ends like that???? I need to know more.

And then I made to click the next episode and realized what had happened 😭

The funny thing is that I picked the ONE episode that was so fucking different from the rest of the show that i didn't catch on to the fact that I was smack dab in the middle of the story. If it had been any other one, I think I would have realized sooner. (Or maybe I'm just stupid and I wouldn't have lmao)

Anyways. (I thought the show was doing something very weird on purpose, where they put the viewer in the innies' shoes from the jump, showing how disorientating and weird and confusing it would be to not know why you are where you are, and what happened before you came here, and what you are supposed to do 💀)

So. That's how I got into the show 😭 and then I watched it from the start and you know what??? The experience wasn't that different, I still didn't understand shit (but I had spoiled myself quite a bit 😅 fortunately, the show is so weird that those spoilers were unintelligible until I got to the episode in which they were relevant)

1000/10 the show of all time!

Imagine scarfing down chinese food like a rabid animal only for jeff bezos to come and sit next to you and insult your dead wife, so you go home and get a lobotomy about it

[no-144444]

different- o.piastri

summary: the differences are starting to show ow that oscar is going to be present in mia's life, and in turn, yours.

pairing: oscar piastri x ex! single mom! fem! reader

part one | part two

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You were terrified. The past few weeks had been… strange, to say the least. You’d seen Oscar every single day of the last month. He moved his entire life to London in the span of a week for Mia. It reminded you of the teenage Oscar who would move mountains for you, and you were glad Mia got that side of him too.

It had been a whirlwind of emotions since Australia, and you’d watched every Grand Prix since then from your London house. Mia adored it. You told your family and friends about Oscar coming into Mia’s life, and there were varying degrees of support, but Teresa, your closest friend, hated Oscar. Every time she saw him it was either a roll of the eyes or a passive aggressive comment, but he took it all in good faith and just smiled and continued talking. It was a lot though, you’d been Oscar-less for 4 years, just seeing him through a screen, and now he was coming to your apartment everyday with a coffee for you, and something for Mia. Now, you two texted daily. Now, he was there again, and it freaked you out. 

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Oscar sat outside in his car, psyching himself up for the conversation that was about to happen. How the fuck dop you tell a 4 year old that you’re her dad and you didn’t know about her for 4 years, and now you want to be in her life every single day? How do you apologise for the missed time? How would he apologise to you if she got mad at you? What if she hated him forever and he lost her and you? How could he prove to both of you that he was serious about you two?

Beth: You’ve been MIA since last week, what’s up Osc? Call me please xxx

He cursed himself and the universe's impeccable timing. Beth was the girl he’d been seeing for a few months, and like all the girls he’d dated since you, bore a striking resemblance. He didn’t know what to tell her, how to explain it, or if he even should. His first thought was to ask you what he should do, what you’d be comfortable with him telling, and then he realised he would then be admitting to ‘moving on’, when he really only wanted you. He was at a stand-still in his brain, and muted her messages before going up to your front door. 

“Hey,” you smiled, opening the door to him, Mia on your hip. The picture in front of him made his heart ache a little bit. He could imagine himself coming home to it every night, after every race, for the past few years. “Come in.”

“Thanks,” he smiled, walking inside and taking Mia out of your arms as she reached for him. She softened the ache a bit. “Hey Mia.”

“Hey Osc!” she bundled into his arms, squirming around. She directed him to her playroom where they spent about 3 hours together, before you came in to set her down for her nap. 

“Do you want to…?” you offered, gesturing to her bedroom. “I can show you, just in case you need to know one day.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and followed behind you. “Yeah, after you.” 

He watched as you gently tucked her in, a soft smile on your face as she looked at you with all the love in the world. He could’ve sworn his heart was trying to claw itself out of his chest to get to you two, but he swallowed back the tears, and left the room behind you, after kissing Mia on the forehead. 

“She really likes you,” you pointed out as you made him a coffee. 

“Thank you for letting me be part of this,” he nodded. “It means… everything to me. She does.”

You nodded. “You’re a natural.” 

He took the cup you handed him with a grateful nod, and you sat across from him. “How are you doing?” 

You stared at him like a deer in headlights for a moment then looked back down at your own mug. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course,” he assured you. “I want you to be.”

“I’m a bit… overwhelmed? If that’s the right word. This is all just… a lot,” you explained. “It’s just… I was a single mom for like 4 years, and now I have you and I guess I’m just still getting used to it. Not that it’s bad or anything, it’s just… different. But Mia and you get on so well, and you’ve been so kind throughout this whole process, so, thank you for that. It’s just-”

“Weird?” he offered, and you chuckled. 

“Weird,” you confirmed. “What about you?” 

“It’s been weird, obviously. But, I adore her. I knew I had cared about people before, but this is just… different. I didn’t think I could care about someone so much after you-” He cut himself off with a sigh. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s alright,” you shook your head. “I get what you mean.” 

He nodded. “She’s wonderful. She’s so smart. She’s so funny. She’s so… you, honestly,” he chuckled.

“She’s a mini me that looks like a mini you,” you laughed. He’d missed that laugh. He’d missed you. 

He nodded. “Well, yeah.”

“How does it feel to be leading the championship?” you asked, sipping your tea. 

He didn’t even think about F1 unless he was in the car. He just raced, and then rushed home to see you and Mia. He shrugged. “I haven’t really thought about it,” he breathed out a long sigh. “I guess it feels good?”

“You haven’t thought about it?” you gawked. 

“I usually rush home after races,” he admitted. “I like to talk to Mia about it.” 

“Oh,” you looked at him, then back down at your mug. “Well, y’know, we could come to the next one, if you want her there.”

“I’d want you there too,” he took your hand. “Both of you.” 

You nodded. “We could be there.”

“I’d like that,” he smiled, his thumb running over your knuckles. “I’d like that a lot.” 

“Alright,” you smiled flatly, but he could see something in your eye, something that made him think he was doing something right. “We’ll make it happen.” 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

“Oscar… is my dad?” Mia questioned. “How?” 

“Well, Oscar and I used to be in a relationship, and we loved each other very much. And we broke up before I knew I was pregnant with you, and I didn’t have a way to tell him you were on the way, but we saw each other in Australia and I told him then, and that’s why he’s been coming over so much,” you explained calmly and gently. 

She nodded for a moment. “That makes sense. Why did you two break up?” 

Both of you cringed and he turned to look at you. 

“Sometimes people may be the right fit, but it might just not be the right time in their lives for them to be together. That’s what happened with me and Oscar,” you spoke slowly, basically grasping at straws to think of something to explain your very complicated break up. 

Oscar tried not to let himself get excited at the fact that you still thought he was right right person for you, but it did make him fell quite good about himself. Right person, wrong time? He could work with that.

“So do I call Oscar; dad, or Oscar?” she asked, glazing over your explanation. 

“You can call me whatever you want,” he smiled. “Oscar, Osc, dad, anything.”

She nodded, studying him again. “I think I’ll call you dad,” he decided. “I like you a lot dad. Are you going to stick around now?” 

He chuckled. “I’m going to stick around until the end of time Mia,” he promised. “Swear.”

“And you and mom are going to get back together?” she asked sceptically.

“Umm,” he thought about it for a moment. “We don’t know.”

“Well you should. Mommy has been single since I was born, and she needs someone who’ll love her,” she blurted out as you covered your face with your hands. 

“Mia,” you groaned. 

“What?! It’s the truth!” Mia shrieked. 

“Anyway,” you changed the topic. “Do you have any other questions?” 

“Not really,” she admitted. “Am I going to have to go between dad and moms house?”

You looked at each other. “We haven’t really talked about that yet,” Oscar admitted. “Is that something you don’t want?” 

“No. It seems like a lot. I want both of you in the same house with me,” she shook her head. 

You turned to each other again. “Well, we’ll talk about it,” you smiled back at Mia. 

“Can dad stay over tonight?” She asked. “I want to watch a movie with him.”

“Of course he can sweetheart,” you smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll get dinner started.”

“I’ll clean up the playroom!” She called out as she ran in the direction of her room. 

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“That wasn’t bad,” he announced as he chopped up carrots. 

“Not at all,” you nodded, your mind a million miles away. 

“I thought she’d take it worse,” he sighed. “Oh, and I really don’t have to stay over tonight-“

“Nonsense,” you brushed him off. “We have a spare bedroom. It’s all yours.” 

“Thank you, for all of this,” he smiled. “She genuinely means everything to me.” 

“That makes two of us,” you smiled, a genuinely, real smile. The ones he was so used to back in the day.

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mclaren masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

taglist:

@htpssgavi @widow-cevans @anayaverse @1800-love-me

[tsukuhoe]

22. baby, i know cw: heavy mentions of alcohol, teeny bit angsty, wc: 1.8k

you stood in front of the door, your fingers fumbling with the handle. “shit,” you muttered under your breath. you lean on the garage door, arms full of beer bottles and knocked. “hey shitheads?” no answer. you flick a switch, and the garage door opens, and as you walk towards the garage door, the door closes. you look back to see a costumed ghostface closing the garage door. 

“...is that you randy?” the masked man shakes his head. no. 

“what movie is this from? i spit on your garage?” you scoff in return. “lose the costume; if sidney sees it, she’ll flip.” you walk towards the costume. he’s shaking his head again. 

“oh, you wanna play psycho killer?” you said, tilting your head slightly, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “can i be the helpless victim?” 

he masked figure nods. you cocked her head to the side, looking him up and down. “oh no, please don’t kill me mr. ghostface, i wanna be in the sequel!” you said, scoffing, then pushing him to the side. however, instead, the masked face grabbed your arm and pulled out a knife. a few bottles in your arm dropped and shattered as he dragged the prop against your arm, fake blood coming out of the tube. “ah!” 

immediately, you ran towards the fridge, slamming the top freezer in his face. he fell to the ground as you ran past him, grabbed the unshattered bottles and threw them at him once he started getting up. “fucker!” 

desperately wanting to escape, you spotted the doggy door. you quickly ran towards it, trying your best to shove your body through… unfortunately, your shoulders had made you stuck. seeing his golden opportunity, the killer flicks the switch, which opens the door… you are lifted into the air as you look up…

“CUT!” utahime’s voice booms, the entire set erupts into applause. “that was perfect, y/n and toji!” this was the last day of your filming on set. after the hard weeks of consistent filming and visiting the building, you had finished your part. you felt a lump form in your throat as you watched the cast and crew celebrate. this was the culmination of weeks of hard work, late nights, and dedication. ​​

toji walkers over to you. “we did it. we made the iconic scene.” 

you laughed softly, nodding. “we sure did.” 

after being on set with toji for a few weeks, he had gotten used to your presence, however, just because you’d been with him for a few weeks does not mean he’s fond of you now… “now you can finally scram. honestly, singing might be something you’d want to stick you.” he said with a smirk on his face. 

you could tell he was trying to get on your nerves. “awh, thank you so much mr. fushiguro! i appreciate your support in my music career!” you shot him an insincere smile, tone all cheery.  

“nah, i’d never listen to–” “SWEETS! you were amazing!” before toji could continue, gojo ran towards you and spun you around. “seriously, baby, i’ve been watching all the behind-the-scenes clips, and you nailed every scene. i’m so proud of you.” 

“thank you so much, gojo!” you giggled. you aren’t exaggerating when you say you saw literal stars in his eyes. 

“so, dinner? at kura revolving sushi bar?” he asked, setting you down on the ground. 

“yeah, of course— sorry, off topic, but do you know if kento is in the building today? i’ve been wanting to talk to him…” it had been approximately three days since you last had an actual conversation with him. could he be avoiding you? 

“ah, i don’t think so, sweets. from what i remember, he has a shooting to do for tomorrow in osaka! i think he should be on a plane by now.” right. of course. kento nanami is a busy man, this shouldn’t be surprising. however, you couldn’t help but to feel a little disappointed… by what? not getting to talk to him? you could always text him. him leaving without informing you? it’s not like you two were together; he isn’t obligated to tell you anything— so what exactly were you disappointed about? did you want to be with him? is that why you’re disappointed? before you could start spiralling even more than you already are, gojo picked up the change in your mood. 

“hey, if you want, i could pass along a message for you…? or you could even call him! i’m sure he’d be happy to receive a call from you!” he gently said, running his hands through your hair. 

“really? you’d think so?” you asked, eyes watery, tears threatening to spill out. 

“i know so. now c’mon! we don’t wanna be late to our reservation, now do we?” 

‘fuck. what in the world am i doing.’ was the only thought that ran through his head the whole car ride there. supporting you and nanami’s… relationship? whatever you two had going on. his hands gripped the steering wheel harder. he couldn’t help but to feel a jealous— bitter even. he was jealous of nanami’s relationship with you. he was bitter at himself. what did he lack? why was he even helping him? 

“we’re here!” his voice came out cheery, a total contrast to his previous thoughts while driving. you two walked in, while gojo talked to the waitress you couldn’t help but notice the sudden shift in his mood. in the car it was completely quiet, but now he’s all sunshine and smiles. he’s the world’s favourite actor (other than toji, of course) after all. 

“‘order anything ya want, sweets! it’s all on me.” he grinned, taking his seat as you settled in the booth across from him. 

“do you drink, gojo?” you asked, looking at the menu. 

“nahh, i don’t, sweets. i’m a light weight haha.” 

“oh, alright! then i won’t either!” 

“nono, drink if you want to! i don’t mind you drinking, besides i’ll be driving you home!” 

It wasn’t long before you two were laughing and nibbling on different types of sushi— salmon, tuna, avocado rolls, and takoyaki. but the drinks? that was beginning to hit you. you started with one shot, but it had been so smooth that you’d convinced yourself to have another. and then another. 

gojo watched you carefully, noting the rosy flush on your cheeks and the slightly glassy look in your eyes. you were starting to slur your words, though gojo didn’t want to say anything just yet. you two were having a great time, and the vibe was perfect.

"y/n," he said gently, "maybe we should slow down on the drinks?"

you waved him off. "i’m fine, i’m fine! just one more… okay, two more..."

he let out a small chuckle at your drunken state. “i can now see why you’re such good friends with shoko!” 

a few minutes later, you leaned back in your seat with a contented sigh, then suddenly lurched forward, your hand grabbing the edge of the conveyor belt as if to steady yourself. "i think i’m a little drunk," you admitted, your voice wobbling.

gojo couldn't help but laugh. "you think? you’ve had like, seven shots."

you giggled, your head tilting to one side as you tried to look serious. "i don’t know what’s in that drink, but it’s like magic. i feel amazing. i could totally sing karaoke right now."

the mention of singing made gojo laugh harder. "let’s just focus on not falling off the stool for now, alright, sweets?"

you blinked at him, then suddenly grinned. "you’re so funny, gojo. i think i love you."

his heart started to throb. he chuckled and reached for his glass of water. "yeah, well, i’m pretty lovable when i’m sober… let’s go home now, alright, sweets? don’t want you passing out on the conveyor belt." 

“you’re so nice, gojo.” 

“you know, you’ve been calling me gojo for a while. satoru is fine, sweets.” gojo chuckled, helping you out the booth and walking you to his car. 

“satoru… satoru… sa…toru… toru. how about toru. since y’know, you’ve been calling me these cute names, i should too!” you beamed, as he opened the passenger seat door for you. 

“sure thing, sweets.” 

the car ride to his place was quiet, you were slowly dozing off while he drove. you stared at gojo for a beat too long, his eyes soft and focused on road. "toru…" you began, your words dragging, "you know, i’ve always thought... you’re really pretty." 

his heart skipped a beat, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. he thought you were just being intoxicated. "you’re not so bad yourself," he teased, nudging you lightly. “we’ve just pulled into the parking lot. i’ll call shoko or utahime to come pick you up in a few?” 

you didn’t laugh. instead, you moved closer, your face hovering inches from his, your breath warm and scented with alcohol. gojo’s heart started to race; unsure if this was the alcohol talking or something more. fuck. he wished it was. 

“y/n, what are you—” 

before he could finish his sentence, you closed the gap between. the kiss was sudden and clumsy, but it was there— his lips pressing against yours with an intensity he wasn’t prepared for. the kiss deepened, you tasted like the alcohol you’ve been drinking earlier. gojo hates alcohol, but fuck, your taste was so addicting. he didn’t care. your hand moved to his chest, your fingers pressing into him as you leaned more into the kiss.

the kiss grew more urgent, gojo pulled away slightly, his breath shaky. “sweets, wait... you’re drunk. this isn’t—”

“i want this,” you whispered, your voice soft but insistent. your eyes searched his, a mixture of vulnerability and something deeper that made his chest tighten.

for a second, he hesitated, unsure. but there, in your gaze, was something real. something he couldn’t ignore… but he also knew this wasn’t something to rush. not like this. not when the line between friendship and something else felt too blurry. 

with a sigh, he pulled back, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “we can’t, not like this,” he said softly. 

your eyes flickered with confusion, and for a moment, he could see the haze from the alcohol fading just a bit, replaced by something more knowing, more aware.

“i… i didn’t mean to mess things up,” you whispered, your voice small.

“you didn’t,” he said gently, placing a small peck on your forehead. “we’re just... better off waiting for a clearer moment.”

you nodded slowly, your eyes heavy with sleep now, the alcohol slowly overtaking you again. you leaned back into him, your eyelids fluttering as you tried to keep yourself awake.

he held you there, his heart racing, his mind spinning. gojo didn’t know what had just happened, but one thing was certain— he couldn’t possibly face your sober state after this— even if this kiss wasn’t genuine. even if this kiss only happened because you missed nanami. 

album bonus tracks: — hihi i'm SO sorry for the late update omg... — im going to be so fr i actually got really sad while writing this, then i started contemplating my life choices — i love gojo sm, i promise he's going to be happy TT — other than that, please lmk if there's any grammar or spelling errors! — i wanna get deeper into everyone's character so bad but i don't know when's the right time to do it 😞 — anyways, i'll try to update the next chapter sometime this week to make up for the last weeks ^.^ ⋮ MASTERLIST  ֹ⋮  PREVIOUS  ⋮  ֹNEXT

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[masoncantthinkofaname]

My advice as someone who has shifted many times

Got some really sweet comments on my last post, and I decided I should probably get myself over my fear of posting here. I just love everyone in this community, you're all family to me💚

First, and most importantly, coffee:

When I posted my introduction here, a couple of months ago, I felt like I was already quite an experienced shifter. 4 kids, the most amazing husband, a life outside of this reality longer than I lived within it.

Looking back on it now, more than 500 years later, 3 more kids, 4 grandchildren, I was almost like a baby still, and even at this moment in time, I feel like I'm only at the start of my journey.

However, for the people that know my tiktok account, I have shifted to a lot of places by now. Experienced immortality as a human, as a deity, I've seen different cultures practice shifting, and taught shifting to every single one of me and my husband's children.

My main purpose in coming back here, is to help others achieve what I finally managed after years of trying. I want you all to pursue your dreams, and find the infinite happiness you so deserve.

So here is some advice:

Shifting itself is extremely simple. You want something, you get it. The concept of the reality that we're in doesn't allow for instant 'manifestations', but that doesn't mean you can't do it. It just means that, this reality by itself, doesn't have the rule of ''you desire something = you get it.'' That's where humans came up with the term ''manifestation,'' but it's simple really; you persist in wanting something, so you shift somewhere you have it. How easy that is can depend on the person, but every single one is capable of doing it, it's not technically any more difficult.

There are realities out there where, ''you want something'' does equal ''you get it,'' the term manifestation wouldn't even exist in those places, it's just as natural as it is for you here to feel as though you struggle attracting your desires.

I do not want to be rude to anyone, but there is no key to shifting. Anyone claiming they have the method to shift, or know the key to it, is overcomplicating it. Shifting is shifting, you don't need anything for it. Just existing, being aware, that's all you need to shift. HOW you do it, depends on the person. Assumptions, methods, intention, they're all tools to help you, but they're not the key.

You can shift while showering, while taking a dump, you can jump in the air and yell ''Yippie!!!'' to shift if you would believe that it works. An actual method? A joke method? There's no difference between them. The only real difference? You assume one to work, and one to not do anything, and that's where our limited mindsets are created.

I've seen so many different groups by now. People that shifted through meditation, through rituals, a group that would quite literally dive into a lake that they saw as magic, but also people that simply just, decided they wanted it, and shifted seconds later. They were raised with those beliefs, so they work for them.

And you here? You're raised in a society that tells you that you have to work for what you want, that a dream life is impossible, nothing is for free. And then you wonder why you struggle with shifting, why it's so hard to believe that you can do something so incredibly simple. Your struggles are valid, it is not your fault.

As an awareness you're so much more than the 3d, you're so much more than the body or brain you're aware of. You're simply a guest in this body, until it expires or you choose yourself to move on, but that doesn't take away that while you're here, you have to deal with your experiences, memories, and taught mindsets from this place.

That's why, the biggest advice I can give you, is to listen to yourself. Not society, not other people, no one who tries to tell you that they know ''the way.'' If someone's method aligns with you, that is amazing, and definitely put it to practice. But don't force yourself to go through methods and practices that don't feel right for you. If you dread doing it, it's not for you. Find something fun, something that fits your routines and beliefs.

Remember that time has no meaning. 5 days, 5 months, it's not going to matter in 3000 years. Literally nothing can stop your existence, nothing that could happen to you in this reality can ever stop you from existing.

There is no pressure, eternity is waiting for you, be kind to yourself. You are exactly where you're meant to be. It doesn't matter how you shift, so don't make it a chore. Script, create scenarios, daydream, make up your own rituals or find the most fun ways to set intention. You don't need hour long methods of counting, starfish positions and difficult affirmations. Your desires are already heard, your subconscious already knows where you want to go, so enjoy the ride until you get there💚

[feelyourno1z]

I know like, a million before me have already said it, but there’s good reason why TikTok and Vine feels so different.

Vine was originally made to just be a video blogging service where you showed snippets of your life. It didn’t start out as intending to be any special form of entertainment, people just saw the opportunity and took it. Something something the inherent human nature to entertain and express the self something something you get the picture, no social media platform exists without people using it as a means to entertain and attempt to put themselves out there in a way that feels uniquely them. And when you’re forced to do that in a maximum of 7 seconds? You have to get creative, you have to pare your message down to be quick, precise, and still get the point home. You have to simplify it to its barest form while still retaining the humor you want to convey.

TikTok started out as a platform meant to do trendy dances and lip syncs or to show off moments of your life with a backing track. Of course, it was also especially meant to entertain as people were encouraged to be funny and try to engage similarly as they did to Vine, but since already the original purpose of the app was so different, everything just didn’t have the same appeal and what the user base wanted out of it was different. Even when it was originally musical.ly and you were limited to only 10 seconds a video, it still didn’t get the formula for a Replacement To Vine right because that original purpose still wasn’t the same.

Sure, there are still plenty of similarities between the apps (they’re both places plenty of now popular Internet names found their start/a boost to their name, people go there to entertain and be entertained, there’s compilations of funny videos from them all over YouTube, etc) but when the base purposes are so varied, you create expectations of differing kinds from the user base and attract different kinds of audiences.

That being said I miss the feeling of vines too, and while there’s still people that make content that feel like Vines (a lot of TikToks That Have Vine Energy videos are surprisingly accurate) there’s still that missing sense of it being the early 2010’s that’s missing and I don’t think we’ll be getting it back

Lots of my favorite vines are old ones, so here are some that I didn’t want lost to the wind

Might make part 2 w/more modern vines(?)

[kenyuukissme]

thinking about skipping class in the bathrooms. one airpod in, connected to the phone the other airpod’s owner is holding. while standing in the same, small stall as you. luckily its almost like its own little room. the door reaches the very floor, and the sides aren’t open from the ends.

— now playing: teddy picker [arctic monkeys].

you lean against the wall, a loud exhale escaping your lips. now, don’t get me wrong. you aren’t really skipping class. i mean, its not like your teacher will remember you asked to go to the bathroom and didn’t come back till like… twenty five minutes later! and you finished all your work, its not technically that big of a deal.

so that’s why you roamed the hallways, loitered at your locker and reluctantly decided to walk back to your class. until you saw another guy just walking around, too. you were just about to walk past him to get to your class, when a teacher yelled out.

“oi! you two!” the teacher must’ve assumed you were skipping together. the boy is completely indifferent, he doesn’t really care. but you panic.

it takes once glance from you to him for him to grab your wrist and start running down the hall. you take a few zig zags and turns before he pulls you into a bathroom stall.

and locks the door.

well, fuck. now what? its been a few minutes, but it feels like hours. the teacher gave up on searching for you two, lucky. now you can leave. but that wouldn’t be such an issue if there weren’t a bunch of kids loitering outside your stall. aw, it seems everyone just wants to skip, today.

seconds turn into minutes. they don’t leave. the boy in the stall with you is scrolling his phone. nonchalance at peak, trust me. he must’ve caught you staring — in what he thinks is a sad way (but you’re really just worried about getting out the stall). — so he takes out something from his pocket.

an airpod case?

he takes one airpod, puts it in his ear, then offers the other one to you. you pause, in a way, kind of asking if he’s sure. he nods, and you take the airpod from his hand and put it in your ear.

that’s how you spent twenty five minutes in a bathroom stall with sae itoshi — who you later found out was the school’s best soccer player — sharing airpods and listening to music together. it was nearly the end of the school day when you were about to exit the stall. unfortunately, there was a younger boy there.

“nii-chan??” his jaw drops. sae sighs, gently holding your wrist again as he nearly drags you away from there.

a/n :: im sorry this is shit. started this a few weeks ago, finished in class today. taglist :: @sl-vega ; @shrii-kk ; @rink1sser + open [ask to be added] likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated

© kenyuukissme 2025 {do not copy, translate, steal, modify or repost without permission}

[dollveis]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐇 !

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀you've got a fetish for my love

❝ ELLIE WILLIAMS ❞⠀ ✿ you always push ellie away because you're sure you couldn't work together, but maybe you can under the bed sheets. 3.3k words.

pairing. jackson!ellie x fem!reader content warning! mention of consuming alcohol, smut, vague plot tbh, the smut it's actually pretty light and there's more tension and making out than anything, a bit of fluff and maybe angst if you squint, kind of a enemies to lovers but they're not completely enemies (just don't get along), open ending, oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), top!ellie, bottom! reader, there's not really a dom/sub dynamic here.

☆ this is the first thing i've wrote in like a year and a half so bear with me please, this also has been sitting in my drafts for two years already and i finished it just now. i hope this isn't that bad! if there's any grammatical mistakes please let me know, english is not my first language, enjoy ♡

The party was obviously Dina's idea. She'd been going on about it for weeks now, how the younger crowd of Jackson needed a break, no one had barely time to just be and exist with all the patrolling, hunting and just surviving in general.

The party is already in full swing when you finally arrive, half the town's twenty-somethings crowding Dina's place. The warmth it's the first thing that hits you, the house is candlelit, the soft cracking of the fireplace and the strong scent of whiskey and woodsmoke fill your nostrils. The sound of laughter echoes from the living room, someone's half-drunk attempt at playing the guitar makes everyone laugh, you hear Dina's voice rising above it all, welcoming everyone, teasing people, just keeping the energy high. She really outdid herself, the whole place is alive in a way that Jackson rarely is.

And you hate it.

You immediately thought you shouldn't have come. The party is loud, too loud. It's not that you don't like the people here, you do, for most part, but crowds make you restless and you've spent the whole day convincing yourself that this? this isn't what you need, you should've stayed home but Dina insisted, said you were wound up too tight.

“Loosen up, drink a little, talk to someone who isn't your damn horse!” she said when she greeted you and saw that expression in your face, like if you were about to run back to your house.

So now you were stuck there, standing stiff against a wall, drink in hand and watching the room from a distance like it might swallow you whole.

Then your eyes land on her.

Ellie.

She's sitting in the corner, half sprawled on the couch, beer dangling from her slender fingers and her other arm resting lazily over the back of the couch, boots kicked up on the edge of a coffee table just if like she owns the fucking place. She's laughing at something Jesse just said, her head tilting back slightly, exposing the column of her throat. It's a rare sight— her guard down, her expression relaxed, warmth slipping through the usual sharp edges.

For a second you let yourself look, your gaze fixated on her. The way her shirt clings to her frame, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her tattoo catching the dim light of the place. The way her fingers absently trace the label on her beer bottle. The way her green eyes flick across the room, scanning, searching, until they land on you.

There's a pause, a beat where neither of you look away. Then—

She smirks. Fucking smirks. She lifts her beer slightly, a silent acknowledgement of your presence, before taking a slow sip. She knows exactly what she's doing, she enjoys watching you bristle.

You scoff and turn away, pulse kicking up in annoyance. You and Ellie don't get along, y'all never have, she's stubborn, reckless, too sure of herself in a way that grates on your nerves. Every patrol together turns into a heated argument, every introduction a silent battle. It's not like she's mean, if anything, it'd be easier if she was, but she's just Ellie, all sharp words and cocky grins, pressing your buttons like it's a game. And she's determined to win it. For some reason she never lets up, not with you.

Maybe it's a game of push and pull and you always push first.

An hour passes, maybe more, two? you spend most of it trying to avoid her, talking to Dina, Jesse, anyone else but you feel her presence like a weight. Every time you glance her way, she's already looking, every time you move, she's just there and it's pissing you off.

You down the rest of your drink and push through the crowd, slipping down the back hallway, you don't run but you walk fast enough that it feels like it, you dodge Jesse's half-hearted attempt to pull you into some drinking game. You just need air, space—distance.

The first door you find is half open, a guest room, mostly unused since the bed was neatly made. You step inside, inhaling deeply, relishing the silence

Then the door shuts behind you, you don't even need to turn around to know who it is.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter glaring at the ceiling, “do you ever take a hint?”

Ellie just chuckles, the sound low and amused, “Not when it's this much fun, to be honest,” and you don't even need to look around to know she has that stupid smirk plastered on her face.

You spin to face her, your eyes meeting her intense emerald eyes and your arms crossing tight over your chest, “What the hell do you want?”

She leans against the doorframe, her hand holding her chin like she was pretending to think, “dunno. . . maybe i just like seeing you squirm.”

Your jaw clenches and your fists close, “i'm not squirming.”

You see her smirk grow, a knowing look in her eyes, she looks at you like if she was able to read your thoughts and body language, like if she knew something you don't.

She steps closer, “no?”

You hate how easily she gets under your skin, how quickly she turns the air electric. The room feels smaller with her in it, the tension between you palpable. And the worst part? She knows.

You can feel the anger growing inside you, “why do you always do this?” you snap.

Through her lips escapes a soft chuckle as her brow raises, “do what?”

“This. You act like— like —” you exhale sharply, trying to put your mind in order and find the right words, “like you're trying to get a rise out of me.”

Another step, now you can smell the mix of beer and whiskey on her breath, the faint scent of smoke clinging to her shirt, “what if i am?” she says, her voice now lower, rougher.

You breath hitches, for a moment neither of you move, the tension is thick, suffocating, a rope pulled too tight between you, you're both too stubborn, too reckless, you'd burn each other out before you even had the chance to try.

Your heart pounds, your skin prickles, and fuck, you should push her away like you always do.

But you don't.

You take a step forward, closing the distance completely. Ellie doesn't flinch, doesn't back down, if anything she leans in, her usual green eyes now dark and heavy lidded, her smirk fading into something different. Something dangerous.

“You gonna keep pretending?” she murmurs close to your ear.

You don't answer, you can't because she's right and you both know it. So when she tilts her head, gaze flicking down to your lips— when she hesitates, waiting for you— you do the stupidest thing imaginable.

You kiss her.

The kiss is not soft, not sweet, there's frustration, months of tension unravelling all at once. Ellie makes a sound low in her throat, something between a gasp and a groan, and then she's grabbing you, fingers curling around the back of your neck, pulling you into her, pressing you against the door. The alcohol on her tongue is dizzying, her body solid and warm against yours and fuck, maybe you should stop. Maybe this is a mistake— but when she bites at your bottom lip, hands slipping under your jacket, pulling, teasing, demanding, you know there's no going back.

Ellie kisses like she fights, hungry, restless, all consuming. Her hands grip at your waist, pulling you impossibly close, fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt like she's trying to stake her claim. The taste of her mouth makes your head spin. You should stop, you really should, you keep repeating that to yourself in your mind but when she presses you harder against the wall, when she nips at your lower lip and swallows the soft, sweet sound it pulls from your throat— you don't. You won't.

Your hands move on their own, fisting into the front of her shirt, yanking her closer, until there's barely any space left between the both of you. You feel Ellie exhale sharply against your lips, a quiet, breathy curse before tilting her head to deepen the kiss. Months of pent-up frustration unraveling with every movement.

Her hands now drag under your jacket, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, her rough and calloused fingers grazing over your bare skin. The touch sends a shiver through you, your breath hitching as she maps the contours of your waist, ribs, back and dangerously close to your chest.

“Fuck,” Ellie mutters against your mouth, voice husky and almost desperate, “you're—” she cuts herself off, biting at your lip again before pulling back just enough to look at you.

Your chest rises and falls in tandem, lips swallowed and face flushed. And, God, that sight was delightful for her, she could feel herself getting wet just by looking at you, her pupils are blown wide, green eyes dark and unreadable as they flick between your lips and your gaze. She's still gripping at your waist, still pressing you into the door, but there's hesitation now— like she's waiting, like she's asking, like she needs you to make the next move.

You exhale, reaching up, letting your fingers tangle in the short hairs at the nape of her neck. She shivers under your touch, just barely, and something about that sends a thrill directly to your core, making you bolder and almost demanding.

You tug her back in, Ellie groans softly as your lips crash together again, her hands gripping tighter, wandering and exploring beneath your shirt, sometimes her hands traveling to graze your chest. She moves like she's trying to memorize you, like she's been waiting too long for this moment and doesn't want to waste a second of it.

Somewhere between kisses and touches she starts backing you up slowly, steady, until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and your stomach tightens.

Ellie pulls away slightly, breath ghosting over your lips, “tell me to stop.”

You obviously don't. Instead, you hook a finger into her belt loop and pull, letting yourself fall back onto the mattress, bringing her down with you. She lets out a breathless chuckle, bracing herself with her hands on either side of your head.

“Yeah?” she murmurs, voice teasing but still rough around the edges, like she's barely holding herself together.

You swallow, breath shaky, “yeah.”

And that's all she needs. She kisses you again, even deeper this time, slower, like she wants to savor it. The weight of her body presses into you, her thigh slotting between yours and pressing it softly against your core, the heat of her touch setting your skin ablaze.

She takes her time now, trailing her lips down your jaw, your neck and collarbone, her hands moving and groping deliberately, teasing your nipples over your shirt. You arch into her touch, finger gripping at her shirt, nails dragging lightly down her back.

Ellie exhales shakily, her lips barely brushing against your skin as she murmurs, “I knew you wanted me.”

You laugh, breathless and heady, tilting your head back as she marks your neck with her mouth, “shut up and prove it.”

And Ellie doesn't hesitate at all now, the second your words leave your mouth, she moves— lips tracing a slow path down your throat, hands now gripping your waist with just enough pressure to keep you grounded. The heat between you is unbearable, every inch of your body hyper aware of her. She really takes her time, dragging her fingers along the hem of your shirt but not directly touching, she's just teasing, testing. Like she's giving you again the chance to change your mind, like she wants you to stop her and you won't.

You tilt your head back, giving her more room to work, breath hitching as her lips graze over your collarbone. Your fingers curl into the fabric of her shirt, tugging her closer, needing more, she grins against your skin, clearly pleased, before shifting her weight just enough to pull your jacket off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

The room is quiet except for your breaths and soft moans, the faint crackling of a candle in the dresser, the muffled sound of the party still going outside. It feels like another world, distant, unimportant. Right now it's just you and her.

Ellie leans back to look at you, her green eyes searching your gaze, “you sure?”

And that almost made you roll your eyes, wasn't the whole situation obvious enough?

You exhale, heart pounding and voice low, “Ellie.”

That's all it takes. She kisses you again, her hands slip under your shirt, fingers warm against your skin as she softly gropes your tits, sending a shiver down your spine. You press into her touch, drinking in every sensation, every little sound she makes as your hands wander, lifting the hem of her shirt, feeling the taut muscle beneath. She groans when you drag your nails down her back and the sound sends a rush of heat directly between your thighs. A slow, aching need building, making your head spin.

The bed creaks slightly as she shifts, settling between your thighs like earlier, her weight pressing you deeper into the mattress. When her knee makes friction with your wet and aching pussy, you gasp, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her back down to you, lips meeting in a heated, breathless rhythm.

She moves like she wants to take her time, like she's been waiting for this moment as long as you have but neither of you have the patience for that.

Clothes come off in slow, teasing increments— shirts and pants slipping, fingers tracing new paths along the bare skin. You shudder at the warmth of her mouth trailing lower and lower, her lips leaving marks you know won't fade by morning. She's restless, enjoying every reaction, every gasp and sharp inhale.

When she finally, finally, presses closer, when her wet mouth meets your core through your panties, when her fingers tighten against your hip,it's nothing like fighting. There's no sharpness, no stubborn push-and-pull, there's no battle to win.

Just heat. Just the press of her body against yours, just the slow, aching rhythm her tongue sets, the way she whispers your name like it's the only thing she knows. Just her.

She pulled away her mouth for a moment, enjoying the sight of soaking wet panties, your own fluids mixed with her saliva. With her free hand she began to rub up and down your slit, the thin fabric of your underwear making the friction even more delicious.

The way she was edging is making you crazy, she finally decide to move the fabric aside, she iz quick to attach her warm mouth directly to your, already, sensitive clit as her two of her fingers make their way to the entrance of your needy hole. A gasp escapes your lips when you feel her calloused fingers teasing it at the same time she sucks and licks your clit. The humid sounds of her mouth making your arousal grow even more and she knows.

Her lips let your clit go for a moment, she speaks in a lustful, almost velvety, tone, “i prefer when you're like this and not fighting me back,” and you can't even fight or bite back, you just whimper in response and she grins before going back to work.

She finally stops teasing your entrance and she slips one finger inside you, slick dripping down to her wrist. She was quick to find your spongy spot and she presses exactly where you need and while a soft moans leaves your lips, she inserts another finger, feeling how your walls clench against her digits.

The feeling of her fingers pressing your g-spot as her lips latching onto your bud quickly turns to be too much, you don't even know where to grip, you feel like you need something to keep you grounded, your whines and whimpers music to her ears.

And you don't know how much time passes but the room is warm, your breath stutters as Ellie moves against you, her fingers shifting slightly inside you, every touch, every word, sending a wave of arousal. She's steady, controlled, like she's savoring every second, like she's engraving this moment in her memory.

You, on the other hand? You're unravelling, your hands grip at her naked back, your fingers pressing at her warm skin, desperate to keep her close, to pull her even closer. She responds with a quiet, breathy chuckle, but there's roughness to it, a slight tremor beneath her confidence that tells you she's just as lost in this as you are.

She leans in, pressing her forehead to yours, breaths mingling, eyes half-lidded as she watches you, “you're so fucking stubborn,” she murmurs, her voice rough and teasing.

You let out a shaky laugh, tilting your head back as her lips find your throat, “look who's talking.”

Ellie hums in agreement against your pulse, her grip tightening at your waist before she started to move again inside you, it was slow and measured but intentional, the way her fingers curl inside you pulls an embarrassing sound from you, but she swallows it with her mouth, kissing you deep, hungry. She doesn't let up, doesn't rush, just takes her time learning you, every sound, every shiver, every spot that makes your breath hitch. It's infuriating and intoxicating all at once, the way she knows exactly what she's doing.

And when she finally pushes you past that point, when you can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything but feel her, when you're about to hit ecstasy— she murmurs your name against your skin, like it's a confession, like she's giving you something she hasn't given to anyone else.

When the tension finally shatters, your fingers curl against her back, scratching her, pulling her down into you as everything blurs, melts, breaks. She helps you to ride your orgasm, cooing you with sweet words and praises even if everything you can say it's just “hah-ahh” and moan.

The aftershocks leave you both breathless, tangled in each other, skin sticky with heat and effort. Neither of you move for a long moment, just lying there, letting the world settle back into place around you.

Ellie shifts first, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your shoulder before resting her head against your chest. Her fingers trace lazy forms over your side, absentminded.

You exhale, your body still trembling slightly, you lift a shaky hand to run through her hair, pushing damp strands from her forehead. Silence lingers between you, but it's not uncomfortable. It's new, uncertain, but not something you want to pull away from just yet.

The auburn haired girl lets out a slow breath, pressing a kiss to your marked collarbone before murmuring, “still think we don't work?”

You huff a quiet laugh, shifting beneath her, “i still think you talk too much.”

She grins, biting lightly at your shoulder in retaliation before settling back down, “yeah, sure,” a pause. Then quieter, more serious, “you're not gonna run, are you?”

Your stomach tightens at that, at the way she asks like she already knows the answer, like she's bracing herself. You hesitate, your fingers playing with her hair.

You don't know what this is, what it means, if it even means anything at all. Maybe you'll still fight on patrol, still push each other's buttons, still refuse to admit how deep this thing between you two really runs.

But right now, here, in the quiet warmth of this bed? You don't want to leave.

“No…” you finally murmur, feeling the way her body relaxes against yours at the answer, “not tonight.”

Ellie hums, pressing one last kiss to your skin before sighing, “good.”

And for now, that's enough.

[loves1ckmoth]

CLINGY

Loser!Ellie x Reader

Warnings ♡: Fem!reader as always, needy/clingy ellie, Ellie cries after losing reader in the mall, reader comforts her, reader talks more than she usually does in my regular fics, she's more dominant as well, reader and ellie almost pounce on eachother, ellie helps reader put on a dress in a changing room, they kiss a couple times, petnames (my girl, els, darling)

Word Count♡: 1193

Clingy. A word Ellie heard all too often from previous partners. You’d never call her that, no, of course not. You liked her never straying from your side. But it got difficult in crowded areas. Especially on days like today.

You wanted to go out to the mall to pick up a few things. First, your favorite lipstick ran out. Then your friend texted you about an event, and then the dress you were going to wear to said event ripped when you tried it on. The nail in the coffin? Your favorite perfume ran out.

So here you were, walking around a crowded mall on a Friday afternoon. You would’ve prepared to wait, but the event was tomorrow and you needed your things now. Ellie said she’d tag along under the guise of wanting new games, but you knew it was because she didn’t want to be alone at the house.

Sadly enough for you both, everyone in their mother had decided to come as well. It must’ve been a big sale day. That only meant you’d have a better selection of things. While you were grabbing a new bottle at your perfume place, Ellie had distracted herself with some cologne. While you grabbed two bottles of your favorite, you saw a sign.

“Buy two get one free.” As if the universe had planned it all out, Ellie wandered back to your side. “Find something you like, darling?” You ask. She shrugs, but you can tell something’s caught her eye. She’s never been one for subtlety.

“Go grab it. The sign says it’ll be for free. But let me smell it first. I don’t want you smelling of something awful.” She beams and dashes off to grab it. When you sniff it, you find the smell more pleasant than most colognes. You agree and take it up the register. She taps her fingers impatiently as the woman behind the counter rings you up.

You lead her out of the store and she looks through the bag. She eyes your perfume. “Did you need two?” She asks softly. You nod in response. “I’d prefer to come back less. These last me a couple of months each. It’ll at least be half a year before we come back. Though… I did see some room sprays. Perhaps I’ll grab one if they’re discounted.”

You two walk in silence as you navigate through the crowd, trying to pinpoint which store you need to stop at is closer. You only notice her hand slipping from yours too late. By the time you’ve escaped the crowds and into the dress store, Ellie is nowhere to be seen. Your heart twinges and you’re sure she must be panicking somewhere by now.

You walk up to the store clerk and speak softly to her. “Hi, would you mind holding onto my bag? I’m here to buy a dress but I’m afraid I’ve lost my partner. I promise I’ll be right back.” The clerk nods and sets the bag behind the counter.

You leave the store and try to peer out into the crowds, your worry only growing when you don’t spot her. You tap an embarrassing amount of shoulders of girls who look like her, only to apologize when they aren’t. When you don’t find her in the crowds, you try stores. When she isn’t there, you finally check the mall bathrooms. There is where you finally find her.

The moment you walk in, you hear sniveling from a stall. You knock gently, prepared for the embarrassment if it turns out to not be her. “Ellie, are you in there?” Your voice gently rings out in the emptiness of the bathroom. A whimper sounds out from inside the stall and it slowly opens.

She sits there, eyes red and puffy and she grabs you tight. You coo softly, holding her back. “There’s my girl. I was looking all over. Stupid me, then. Should’ve checked my phone for you. Silly me, right?” Your voice is calm, and she looks you over. “Didn’t mean to let go. Shouldn’t have cried like this.”

You shake your head and kiss her lips. “You’re fine. We’ll get all this sorted, yeah?” You caress her softly and bring her out of the bathroom. You wash her face and dry her with a few paper towels before bringing her out with you. This time, you squeeze her hand extra tight so you don’t lose her.

By the time you manage to get back to the dress store, your hair is mussed up from brushing shoulders with everyone in the damn place. Ellie tries her best to fix it for you, and you giggle as she sticks her tongue out to concentrate. You nod and move her hands away from your hair, returning to what you set out here for originally.

You get your bag of perfumes back from the clerk, and Ellie checks inside to ensure you have all your belongings. Ellie is subdued slightly from her losing you earlier, but she does her best to help you pick out a new dress. You’d prefer one like the one you ripped, but when you don’t find something similar, you try to find something else you like. Ellie is attentive, doing her best to find something you’ll like.

Ellie prioritizes comfort overall, and as she looks at the dresses in the store, she realizes comfort might be harder to come by. But, she manages to find the perfect one. Appropriate for big and small events, and comfortable. She brings it over to you as you frown at an ugly feather dress covered in patterns that don’t mesh.

“You find anything good, Els?” You ask, slowly turning only for her to shove the dress in your direction and accidentally into your face. You splutter as you’re met with fabric and Ellie frantically apologizes and pulls it back. Once your face is out of the dress, you take it into your hands to study it. You smile up at Ellie. “This is nice. I assume you want me to try it on?”

She nods fervently, then shakes her head, then flushes bright red, leaving her face blotchy. “Pretty please?” The puppy face she has makes you want to tackle her and ravage her right in the middle of the store, but you hold yourself back. You have more self-control than she does.

“Come on, it’s got a zipper. I’ll need help putting it on.” That’s all you have to say to have her scurrying alongside you and shoving you into the dressing room. You slip out of your regular clothes and have her zip up the dress for you. You smooth it all out and look in the mirror. “Is it all good in the back, Els?”

She gulps, her eyes glancing between you and the dress. She nods slowly and twirls you around to get a better feel of the dress. “Perfect.” You smile and take it off again. “Good. We’ll get it, I’ll grab some new lipstick, and we’ll get you some new games. Alright?”

She hums an agreement this time and grips you tight as you leave.

Second post of today 😵‍💫 I managed to get a lot of writing done today ♡ Hope you all like this one!! Likes and reblogs are most appreciated ♡

[ddejavvu]

Mean Logan who needs the answer to a question ( you don't have the answer) and decides to ask while he's inside u. Won't move until u answer his question and you're just crying and begging him to move

this post is 18+, minors dni.

He's cruel for asking in the first place, but he's even worse for asking while he's got you sitting in his lap, his cock nestled snugly into your tightly-clenched hole. You're gripping him practically hard enough to bruise, your legs wound around his waist but tensed all the same as your cunt sucks him in. He's rocking you on his hips, bouncing you up and down as you wrap yourself around him, breathing heavily into his shoulder and muffling your moans into his flushed skin.

"You got an answer for me, sweetheart?" Logan asks, and he knows you can feel his vocal chords thrum where you're burrowed into his throat, nosing at his pulse like a vampire about to sink your teeth into him.

You don't so much respond as you do acknowledge, but the humming whine you release into the joint between his neck and his shoulder is distinctly negatory.

"C'mon, you don't know? Who's better, me or Cyclops?"

"That's- He's not- Scott's my friend." You insist, but your body ignites with shame just as much as it does pleasure at the memory of Logan walking in on you and Scott clumsily hooking up. You're not lying, you are friends with him, but sometimes friends get drunk and make poor decisions. Your friendship with Scott survives, but perhaps your pride dies here and now against Logan's queries.

"Oh, it's Scott, is it? That doesn't seem like something you'd be worried about stressing if you were just friends. Come on. I saw it all. He was pathetic. Couldn't even get his pants down right."

That's unfair, mostly because you and Scott were both wasted beyond belief. You're sure Scott could deliver a spectacular performance were he in possession of his fine motor skills, but as it was, his zipper had bested him. Admittedly, it was not your best lay.

"That's not fair." You whine, though whether you're referring to his rampant criticism of Scott or the way that he's interrogating you while you're speared on his cock is unknown even to you. It doesn't seem to matter to Logan, though, because he lets out a deep, rumbling chuckle, one that you feel against your face and your core simultaneously.

When he halts the movement of his hips, leaving your cunt buzzing with the need for the constant stimulation it had just been receiving, you think he meant everything to be rather unfair.

"Well, you'd better figure it out, honey, because you're not cumming until you give me an answer. I'll be here," He shifts his hips, nestling his cock just that much tighter into your hole, "-so you just pry your face out of my neck whenever you're ready to admit it."