#i need something to hold me over until sunday

[lizzy-bonnet]

Working in the yarn shop on Sundays, I have a group of regulars who come in specifically then for my advice on their knitting projects and over the years I've gotten to know a lot about them - their ailments and their spouses and their children and their careers and their mothers are all things they find themselves telling me about over the course of trying to bring forth a knitted piece. Most of them are women, most of them are over 50, and most of them have been through a lot and are trying to reclaim something for themselves through the act of creation. A while back, one of these older women opened up to me about how when she first came to this country it was just her and her daughter and they were so happy until her husband joined them, when he promptly began making her miserable. Now, decades later, all her children live far away, she spends all her time taking the husband to dialysis, her sciatic is bad and she may need heart surgery (who will take care of her, I find myself wondering), and she comes to see me once a month or so to talk about a new project and tells me it is the only thing she does for herself.

Today she came in with a smile on her face and delightedly introduced me to her son, who will soon move closer to home with his family. Then she says, as if commenting on the weather, that on Friday her husband died, and tomorrow they will hold the funeral. For a second I had tonal whiplash from the conversation and then I realized, oh, you're unburdened now. Like the relief in her face and her body were palpable. The son shows a picture of a cardigan to me and asks if it can be knitted, and we pick out yarn and a pattern. She's so excited to make it for him. She beams when she looks at him; he is tall and handsome and polite, and wants to wear something she made for him. She is proud of this man she raised.

It just made me think of the many, many women who come from cultures where leaving a crappy spouse isn't an option so they shuttle along doing their best and trying to find some beauty and joy in whatever way they can. Kids may not visit often because their spouse isn't welcoming or there is bad blood, so they are lonely. I remind her, we have our social group. She hasn't come to it much before because she is always taking him to dialysis, but now she says she will come often and meet the other women. Many of them are like her, but in the craft they find companionship that has been absent for so much of their lives. I hope there will be renewal for this dear lady and that she can learn more about herself and what brings her joy.

[s0dium]

Victoria Secret

A/n: For all my Geto lovers, i made sure the fucking was extra juicy. Enjoy!

Synopsis: Your secret indulgence? Buying lingerie. You've managed to keep this "hobby" under wraps until your worst nightmare, Geto Suguru, discovers your secret. Unexpectedly, he proposes a deal: he'll keep your secret, in exchange you help set up his friend Gojo with your roommate, and after that he will even buy you ten sets of your favorite lingerie. There’s just one catch—you have to model them for him. What could go wrong?

"W-what are you doing?" You manage to gasp but Geto just kisses the hollow of your throat. "Why? Do you want me to stop?" He murmurs against your skin. And you know you should say yes, but you shake your head. Like a fool. "Good girl."

Warnings: Teasing, praising, body worship, nipple play and sucking, soft-to-rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding

Word count: 5.5

Every Sunday, at precisely three in the afternoon, you sneak out of your apartment for what you call your "secret indulgence."

Your eyes gaze at the velvet-lined shelves, mentally dissecting the lace and silk items that sit on the red fabric. A familiar, gentle melody fills the boutique, playing overhead as soft light casts a warm glow on the meticulously displayed delicate fabrics. As you run your fingers over each fabric laid before you, you stop when you find one that feels like a whisper against your skin.

This one is perfect.

Carefully you hold the item up on either side, feeling the fabric between your index finger and thumb. Intricate floral patterns cover the lace material and you note the high-waisted cut and scalloped trim that would certainly flatter your figure. You hum in contentment. Yes, this piece of underwear will go perfectly with your collection.

Your "secret indulgence" you may ask? It is collecting lingerie.

Your indulgence was secret for a reason as well. Far too often people assumed that you collected lingerie for a boyfriend or even an audience, but it wasn't like that at all. In fact, it was the opposite, you collected lingerie for you. It wasn't like you never thought about trying it on for someone though, you just never seemed to have an opportunity too. Unlike many of your peers, you're not a social butterfly, never one to attend college parties or gatherings. Even your best friend Shoko has to drag you out of your room every once in a while. Yet, ever since you can remember, there's something about lingerie that captivates you—perhaps it's the delicate lace, the intricate patterns, or how damn good you looked in it. You were simply in love with it.

And up until now, you were pretty damn sure your indulgence was perfectly secret as well.

"Y/n! Just the person I needed to see."

Oh what the fuck.

Your steps halt instantly at the sound of the familiar voice, freezing you in place. You didn't want to look back, you didn't need to look back, you knew who was behind you. You purse your lips as a rush of thoughts floods your mind: Had he seen you leaving the boutique? He wasn't a fool; surely, he'd deduce that the two bags you were clutching came from somewhere significant nearby.

Shit shit shit. Fuck it.

With a nervous bite to the inside of your cheek, you slowly turned around, facing the tall man behind you.

"Geto." You dead pan. There’s a tightness around your mouth, the corners pulled down just enough to betray your displeasure. The usual spark in your eyes is conspicuously absent, replaced by a guarded, cool glare that clearly communicates your discomfort at this encounter.

Geto smiles and takes a few steps toward you. Your first instinct is to step back but you stay in place, taking in his appearance. He's wearing a black tank top today, one that clings to his well-defined muscles and shows off the tattoos covering his arms. He pairs this with casual grey sweatpants that hang loosely around his hips and of course, his long black hair is partially tied up in a man bun like it usually is, while the rest cascades down his back.

Of course he looks good.

Thin sharp black eyes scan you before landing on the two bags you are clutching. His smile grows. You know you're fucked. The last person you needed to uncover your secret.

"Enjoy your shopping?" He chuckles, nodding to the bags and you harshly bite your lip.

"Just some clothes for the summer" You respond dryly, making sure to be heard over the bustling people around you.

"Ah, you don't have to keep secrets from me." Geto chuckles and he gestures to the tattoo and piercing shop across the street. "You know I work there right? I see you go into the little shop every Sunday."

No. No, you did not know that.

You pause before speaking again. "Can I help you with something Geto?"

"Actually, yes you can. I need a favor."

"Favor?" Your eyebrows raise and you scoff. "What could I possibly help you with."

Geto smiles and takes another step forward. "I know we aren't friends, but Shoko is your best friend and she is also mine so I thought maybe we could benefit each other a bit."

You dont respond this time and he continues.

"My best friend, Gojo, im sure you know him."

You have to fight to hide the disgust on your face upon hearing the white-haired man's name. Of course, you knew Gojo, every one on campus knew Gojo, you specifically for the amount of girls he has "toyed" with.

"Yes, I know who the fuck Gojo is." You roll your eyes and you notice Geto has taken another step forward, effectively closing the distance between you two.

"Well, he is head over heels for your room mate-"

"Head over heels or just want to fuck her." You sarcastically snap back, cutting Geto off.

"Is there any difference these days?" he replies, a slight smirk playing at the edges of his lips, challenging the cynicism in your tone.

"And you want me to do what, exactly? Set her up with him? No way," you snap back, your voice rising slightly in indignation. "She's my friend, and I'm not some kind of matchmaker. Gojo can go screw himself."

"No, no, that's not what I'm saying at all," Geto quickly interjects, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm just asking you to let her know that he's available, that he likes her. Just make him out to be an option, you know? Your roommate can do whatever she wants with that information."

"Still, why would I want to do that?" you question, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion and frustration. The warmth of the afternoon seems to intensify the tension between you as Geto steps closer, diminishing the gap until he's just inches away.

"Because in exchange, I'll buy you anything you want," he offers, his voice low and persuasive.

"Um, what?" Your response comes out more as a reflex than anything else.

"Let me rephrase that," he continues, nodding slightly towards the bag of lingerie you're holding, which causes your cheeks to flush with embarrassment. "I’ll buy you what you really want."

"No," you retort firmly, feeling the discomfort rise.

"No?" He echoes, his tone a mix of amusement and disbelief.

"Yes, no. Besides, I'm not strapped for cash. I can buy what I want whenever I want—"

"Didn't I tell you you don't have to lie to me?" Geto cuts in, his voice lowering a bit. "Please, I know how expensive that store is, and I'm not offering just one thing. Say, how about 10 sets from that store you love?" he declares, his eyes flashing with a mix of challenge and amusement.

"10? Can you even afford that?" you retort skeptically, your eyebrows arching in disbelief. This game of his was becoming more intriguing and absurd by the minute.

He leans back, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Oh, and I have to go shopping with you and see you try it on," he adds, as if the deal wasn’t provocative enough.

"Why the hell would you want to do that?" You feel the tips of your ears grow red and you scoff. The idea of Geto Suguru choosing lingerie for you sounds so personal sends a shiver down your spine.

"Because," he pauses, his gaze intense, "its not about buying you lingerie, Consider it… a test of trust, can't just give you hundred of my dollars and let you do whatever you want, I want to make sure you use the money the way our deal assures you will which is... buying lingerie."

You pause, absorbing his words, the heat of the afternoon sun pressing down on you, making the moment feel even more surreal. "Fine. We follow each other on Instagram, so I'll DM you when it's done. But like you said, it's up to her what she wants to do with that information."

"Alright by me. See you soon," he replies, his tone casual yet carrying an underlying note of finality.

As you turn away, walking down the busy street, your mind races with the absurdity of the conversation.

What the hell just happened?

Your fingers hesitated over the blue send button, poised to confirm the completion of your part of the unusual bargain.

Earlier, you had shared with your friend the prospect of a date with Gojo Satoru, carefully omitting the details of the deal behind it. As expected, she was ecstatic, thrilled by the idea despite Gojo's questionable reputation—a fact that gnawed at your conscience. But what could you do? The arrangement was already in motion. Now, it was time to let Geto know that you had held up your end of the agreement, and it was his turn to fulfill his promise.

You took a sharp breath through your nose and pressed down on the screen, watching as the word "delivered" appeared beneath your message in the chat. Just as you were about to set the phone aside and start getting ready for bed, it pinged with a new message. It was from Geto Suguru. Your heart raced as you read the simple words.

When do you want to meet?

The sun blazes down as you approach your favorite boutique, the heat making the pavement shimmer like a mirage. Despite the sweltering temperature, you've donned a big, baggy sweater over your shorts—a choice more about comfort and less about fashion, especially since you didn’t want this meeting to scream 'date'. It’s your casual armor, albeit a warm one on a day like today.

As you near the boutique, you spot Geto Suguru waiting by the entrance. He leans casually against the wall, dressed in some graphic t-shirt and black jeans, his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. This time his hair is completely up in a man bun that shows off his black gauge earrings and hints of a tattoo on his back. The moment he sees you, his lips curve into a knowing smile, as if he can read your thoughts about the outfit.

"Hey," he greets, pushing off from the wall to stand upright. His voice is smooth, a calm contrast to the bustling street around you. "I was starting to think you were gonna bail."

"And miss a chance at free money? I think not." you quip. "Hope Gojo enjoyed his date by the way." Sarcasm drips from your words and Suguru chuckles.

"Probably not as much as I'm gonna enjoy this." he counters smoothly. "Come on," he says, gesturing towards the boutique's door. "We got some shopping to do."

The moment you walk through the boutique doors, cool air hits you in refreshing waves, making you sigh with relief. The boutique interior sparkles with delicate lighting and the gentle clinking of hangers, an ambiance you know and love all too well. You notice that the store is unusually quiet today, with no other customers around—just the shop owner standing by the cashier, who flashes you a small, welcoming smile as you enter. As you step further, your eyes lock onto a stunning pink lingerie set draped elegantly on a mannequin right by the entrance. Its intricate lace and delicate details shimmer under the boutique’s soft lighting, radiating an aura of both luxury and temptation. It's new, and most definitely pricy.

"You’re staring," Geto observes with a smirk, catching you in your admiring glance.

"I'm appreciating," you correct him, the corner of your lips twitching upwards. The price tag hanging from the mannequin does nothing to deter you; it's clearly on the pricier side, but today, Geto’s wallet is on the line. "And since you’re offering, I think I’ll indulge."

Geto's laughter fills the air, playful and unbothered. "I should’ve known you'd go for the gold. Well, it’s your day. Let’s make my pockets weep then," he says, gesturing grandly towards the set.

Who were you to deny him?

You dive into the racks, your fingers grazing over silks and satins, selecting the most exquisite pieces you lay your eyes on. One by one, you gather a collection of lingerie sets—each more lavish than the last. There’s a daring scarlet set that promises to captivate, a royal blue ensemble that speaks of deep oceans, and a classic black lace number that's timeless in its elegance. By the time you're done, nine luxurious sets accompany the initial pink one on the counter.

Geto watches with a mixture of admiration and apprehension as the pile grows, his eyebrows raising slightly at each new addition. But he doesn’t protest; instead, he engages in light banter with the shop owner, who carefully folds each set into sleek boutique bags.

As the total rings up—a sum that makes even the shop owner blink twice—you don’t look away from Geto's face, watching for any sign of regret or hesitation. None comes. He simply pulls out his black card, the smirk never leaving his lips as he hands it over.

The transaction goes through with a soft beep, and you can’t help but feel a thrill of victory as he signs the receipt. You reach out to grab the bags and head toward the door, already planning where each piece will go in your wardrobe, when Geto’s voice stops you.

"Where do you think you’re going? We still have the other part of the deal, remember?" he says with no attempt to hide the amusement in his voice.

Geto's reminder hangs in the air, the playful edge in his voice more pronounced now. As realization dawns on you, you let out a low groan, remembering the full scope of the deal. "Oh," you say, hesitance hanging from your voice. "Right, the 'trying on' part."

"Exactly," he grins broadly. "Come on, my car is parked outside."

"HAH! You think I'm going to your house?" you scoff, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief.

"Why not? Or can we go to yours?" he counters quickly, his grin turning into a challenging smirk.

You bite the side of your cheek. Your place was an absolute mess right now and you don't think you can handle Geto Surguru in your room. "Fine, yours it is," you finally concede.

The drive to Geto's place unfolds in a tense silence, your gaze fixed on the cityscape sliding past the car window. Your heart pounds with a mix of dread and nerves, the quiet amplifying the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. There had to be a way to get out of this. The idea of layering your clothes under the lingerie flickers through your mind, but you dismiss it almost instantly—Geto would see right through that. The thought of making a daring escape through a bathroom window doesn't seem entirely out of the question, though it feels more like a scene from a comedy than a realistic plan.

As you mull over these scenarios, you wonder about Geto's intentions. Was this all just a game to him, a way to tease you? He'd watched you choose each piece with care, so there was no question of you running off with his money. Was this some weird way he got off?

Your so into your thoughts that you dont even realize your at Geto's door.

"Welcome to my humble abode," He says through a grin as he swings upon the door. Rolling your eyes at his grandeur, you step inside, instantly taken by the loft's undeniable charm. The space is open and airy, with high ceilings and large, sunlit windows that overlook the bustling city below. Exposed brick walls add a touch of urban cool, while modern art pieces dot the walls, giving the place a curated yet lived-in feel.

"The bathroom is over there," Geto points nonchalantly towards a sleek, sliding door on the far side of the room. His tone is casual, as if inviting you to try on clothes was an everyday occurrence. He saunters over to a plush couch, settling in comfortably. "You can start whenever you're ready."

Feeling a flutter of nerves, you clutch the bag of lingerie a bit tighter. "You want me to—to try on all of them?" Your voice barely hides your anxiety.

"Nah, just two or three," he responds, his voice calm and nonchalant as he picks up a magazine from the coffee table.

With your heart pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it, you make your way to the bathroom. The cool, modern aesthetics of the loft seem to blur as your mind races. Was this just a fucking joke to him?

As the door closes behind you, you set your bags down on the bathroom floor.

Holy shit Holy shit Holy shit.

You were going to die, this was it. You were going to die out of embarrassment because of god damn Geto Suguru. Your face burns a deep shade of red, heart racing as you lean against the cool, marble sink. Fuck, you're overwhelmed, your thoughts a tumultuous whirl, but you know you need to pull yourself together. Yes, the task is simple: pick two sets of lingerie, try them on, and get this ordeal over with. Just two sets, then you can leave. That's all.

Peeking through a slight crack in the bathroom door, you see Geto lounging effortlessly on the couch, casually flipping through a magazine as if he hasn't a care in the world. A quiet curse escapes your lips at his composure— god you hated him.

Turning back to the task at hand, you rummage through the bag containing the 10 pieces of lingerie. Each piece is stunningly beautiful, making the choice unexpectedly difficult. The last thing you wanted was to make it seem like you where trying to impress him. After a moment's hesitation, your hands settle on a set of black lace lingerie—bold but the plainest out of all of them.

Slipping into the black lace, you feel the fabric glide smoothly over your skin. The lace is intricate, delicate yet firm, offering a sensation that is both luxurious and comforting. As it settles into place, you notice how perfectly it cups your breasts, enhancing your natural shape without discomfort. The fabric molds to your body, sculpting your curves in a way that boosts your confidence, even in such a vulnerable moment.

Turning to face the mirror, you take a moment to really look at yourself. The lingerie accentuates your figure beautifully—your waist appears slimmer, your hips more pronounced. Yes, this was exactly what you loved about lingerie, how it made you look and more importantly how it made you feel. Despite the situation, you can't help but feel a surge of self-assurance. It's a small victory, but in this moment, it's enough to steady your nerves.

Now was the hard part.

Slowly you step out of the bathroom, your heart pounds fiercely in your chest, echoing in your ears. The moment the door clicks shut behind you, Geto's attention shifts from his magazine to you. He lays the magazine aside, his gaze instantly locking onto you. His eyes rake up and down your figure, taking in every detail of the black lace lingerie that clings to your curves.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Geto muses, a teasing grin playing on his lips. "If it isn't the bravest fashion model of our time."

"S-shut up," you stammer, trying to mask your discomfort with irritation. "Just remember, I'm only doing this because of the deal."

"Oh, and you're doing it magnificently, may I add. Who knew you hid such bold taste under that sweater."

"It's just underwear, don't read too much into it," you retort, your cheeks warming under his scrutiny.

"Turn for me," he commands softly. "I want to see the back."

"What?" you falter, caught off guard.

"Turn for me, I want to see behind," he repeats more firmly.

Fuck it.

Reluctantly, you turn, exposing the delicate lace detailing on the back.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, almost to himself, his gaze lingering appreciatively on the design.

"What?" you ask, your voice wavering slightly—unsure if you're more startled by the compliment or by the intimacy of his tone.

"Nothing, baby," he responds, his hand dismissively waving as he looks away, pretending to refocus on something else in the room. "Go try on the next one."

You dont say anything, instead slipping back into the bathroom and rummaging through the bag. Your heart still thumps audibly in your chest, but now there's an undercurrent of excitement mixed with the nerves. The flutter in your chest isn't just from anxiety though; it's also from a burgeoning sense of empowerment. You realize that you have control over how you present yourself, a certain power over Sugruru.

After discarding the set you were wearing, you reach into the bag and pull out the pink set you splurged on earlier. The fabric is luxurious, with a hint of sheerness to the bra that would no doubt show your nipples. The underwear is equally bold, designed as a thong with delicate straps that loop around each thigh, highlighting the curves of your hips and legs.

As you slip into the pink lingerie, the fabric settles against your skin like a whispered secret. The sheer material of the bra makes you acutely aware of your own body, and as you adjust the straps around your thighs, the ensemble frames your form in a way that feels almost artistically deliberate.

Yes, just after this you would be done. So why not go out with a bang?

As you step out of the bathroom, the transformation in your demeanor is palpable. The delicate pink lingerie accentuates your confidence, which resonates with each step you take towards Geto. His eyes lift to meet yours, and the moment they travel down to take in the full view, his expression shifts dramatically to one of... shock? His usual composure falters, and he lets out a low, incredulous whistle.

"Jesus Christ," he breathes out.

You shift in place, playing with the silk hem of your underwear.

After a moment, he composes himself slightly and gestures towards him with a slight tilt of his head. "Come here," he says softly, his voice low and inviting.

You pause, the hesitation clear in your stance. The intensity in his gaze and the palpable tension in the air make your heart race even faster.

Seeing your reluctance, Geto's expression softens. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. "Please," he adds, a hint of something more vulnerable in his tone this time.

The room seems to pulse with the silent energy between you as you take a tentative step forward, then another, drawn by the magnetic pull of his gaze. The air thickens with a charged mix of anticipation and desire as you finally stop just a breath away from him.

He looks up at you, standing up from his seat, his gaze intense yet tender. "You look incredible," he murmurs. You flinch when you feel his hand his finger trace your jaw and his other hand play with the hem of your lace underwear. He bends down, his lips just grazing your cheek, a feather-light touch that sends shivers down your spine, making your entire body quiver. "If you want me to stop, say it now," he whispers. When you remain silent, he brushes his mouth against the hollow of your temple. "Or now." He traces the curve of your cheekbone. "Or now." His lips meet yours.

For a moment your so shocked that he kissed you, you don't do anything. It feels like you are having an out-of-body experience like you can't believe this as actually happening to you. Then in a matter of seconds, his lips move against yours and you melt. Suguru is gentle at first, then unyieldingly hard. You feel yourself falling —not just physically, but emotionally too. You open for him and his tongue snakes its way inside your mouth. His hands move from your face to your lower back as he pulls you toward him, closing whatever space was left between you. He pushes you against him as he deepens the kiss. One of his hands remains on your hip, while the other travels to cup your breasts.

"W-what are you doing?" You manage to gasp but Geto just kisses the hollow of your throat."

"Why? Do you want me to stop?" He mumbles against your skin. And you know you should say yes, but you shake your head. Like a fool.

"Good girl."

Without a warning, Geto sweeps you up in his arms with an ease that leaves you breathless, carrying you effortlessly across the room to his bed.

Geto stands over you, his eyes tracing the contours of your body splayed elegantly across his bed.

"Shit baby, you let anyone else see you like this?"

You thickly gulp and shake your head.

"Oh thank god." He murmurs, climbing over you to place light kisses along your neck, trailing down your chest. Each kiss is soft yet deliberate, sending a cascade of warmth through your entire body. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to be fully immersed in the sensation.

"Your skin feels like silk," he murmurs.

"Did you steal that line from a hallmark card?" You crack.

"Nope just stating a fact." He skims the underside of your bra with his fingers. "Always watched you come out of the store, always wanted to see how you'd look in what you bought." He lifts his head to give you a wry look "You're so smooth and perfect you know that right?"

You let out a soft gasp when his lips find your nipple, pulling your lacy bra down so soft lips can evoke your nub.

"Oh god sugu-" He doesn’t let you get to the last consonant, his eager, hot mouth enveloping one of your nipples and sucking. His tongue flattens, rolling your peak and swirling around your areola, fast and rough until you’re whining. His ears go hot at the sounds you’re making, all desperate and needy.

"So beautiful, fuck your tits are so beautiful" He groans into your skin like it was cocaine. He then switches to your other breast, sucking and licking until he knows you will be sore. Jesus, your breasts feel so good in his mouth, so soft and sweet, why didn't he do this sooner? How much longer did he think he could maintain this facade of being your 'enemy' when all he truly desired was to have you underneath him?

You are squirming underneath him now, the stimulation of his wet tongue on your nipple is becoming unbearable and so was the growing heat between your legs. Your tits feel so good in his mouth, supple, sweet, far better than his imagination could ever conjure

"God, sugu-"

"Love it when you say my name." Suguru breaths between licks and you feel your stomach twist with.

"Sugu please" you manage to gasp, "please touch me please anything please-"

"Fuck you?" Suguru coos, and the words make warmth blossom from your core.

"Please." You breath.

And who was he to deny you?

Without much of a word he pulls your lace panties down to your ankles, making you instinctively hide your bare cunt with your hands, but he clicks the roof of his mouth with his tongue and swats your fingers away. Then, as he stands over you, Suguru steps out of his black pants and pulls off his t-shirt. As you glimpse Suguru, you feel your breath get caught in your throat. His large, incredibly toned frame is a clear testament to rigorous workouts, and intricate tattoos weave across his skin, adding to the attraction.

You were no longer in the kiddie pool.

You are too immersed in his figure that you dont even notice he has lowered down his black boxers just enough so his long length springs out and slaps against his abdomen.

You thickly gulp.

"I dont think that will-" You stammer, the sheer size or his dick making your gut twist and turn. "I think it will hurt I dont think it will-" As you continue to stammer, searching for the right words, Geto cuts you off with a deep, consuming kiss that immediately shuts you up. When he finally pulls back, a confident smirk plays on his lips.

"It will, baby, it always does," he murmurs, his voice low and dark.

Geto positions himself atop you, his strong legs straddling either side of your body, anchoring him in place. He leans over you, the intensity of his gaze capturing yours as he methodically entwines his fingers with yours. With a firm but gentle grasp, he pins your hands down on either side of your body, his proximity reducing the world to the space between you. The warmth of his breath brushes against your face, his presence both overwhelming and exhilarating, as he holds you there under him, completely in control yet tender in his touch.

Before you can even get a word in, you gasp when you feel large pressure against your hole.

"Slowly baby," he hushes you before you can protest. "I'll go slowly."

Suguru's slow roll of hips hips into you is enough to make you scream. The way his dick parts your walls and fills every single inch of you makes your brain go hazy, especially when his tip smooshes against your cervix, sending blots of electricity throughout your body.

"Talk to me baby," Suguru murmurs, his voice cracking from the vice grip your cunt has on dick. "Want me to move?"

You're too lost in the hazy pleasure to form words, all you can do is nod, making Geto breathe out an air of what must be relief. His thrusts started out shallow and slow, testing the waters for how much he could get away with. What your limits were, and if you could fully take him for what he wanted.

You feel like you are going insane from the pleasure. Your cries came silent from your throat, eyes screwed shut in complete bliss. Your body adjusted rather quickly to him, Suguru coaxing you to relax as he peppers kisses along your neck, sucking and biting your sensitive skin. And as you adjusted, your hips began to buck against him at their own pace, beckoning him to move faster.

Of course, Suguru doesn't miss this, and without missing a beat he speads up his thrusts, the pap pap pap of his skin against your echoing in your ears

"Shit, you feel so good baby." Geto practically whines. You don't know it, but he's starting to lose his grip, the overwhelming pleasure beginning to unravel his usual composure.

The delicious friction of his dick scrapping your walls has your heart pounding in your ears and your breath close to hyperventilating. Everything is too much too good all at once. The proximity of Geto's body is overwhelming, his warm skin against yours, his ragged breath hot against your neck. When you gaze into his face, the sight nearly makes you faint—his eyes scrunched shut, lost in euphoria, beads of sweat lining his black hairline. His mouth is slightly open, panting, a sight that makes your cunt flutter from excitement.

"Su-Suguru, so good you're fucking me so good." you babble and he can only groan in response. Your toes curled and uncurled as he continued to wreck your body with his completely brutal thrusts. The pain of him hitting the tip of your cervix nearly every time mixed with the kisses he peppered on your neck and lips was all enough to end you to heaven.

He knows you're close. And you know it too. The way Suguru is fucking you is truly a primal display of affection; him rutting into your cunt like an animal in heat and you frantically scratching and clawing at his back.

Thats when an idea hits you, no, a need overcomes you, You need Suguru, you need all of him, all of him inside you filling you up and making you his.

"Sugu cum in me please," you beg through a hoarse voice. "Fill me up please please please."

He’s been pressing kisses and biting into your shoulder, but you don’t miss the way he practically whines at your words.

"Course baby, course I will."

As if on cue, you feel your seize up and your mind go blank. It feels like your body is free falling into a euphoric grave, electric arrows of pleasure coursing through your sin and directly to your core.

"Oh shit" Suguru curses at the way your cunt clamps down on him and it isnt to long before he follows you, shooting thick ropes of cum straight into your belly. In a fluid motion without leaving your insides once, he picks you up so you are straddling him, and his bare chest is pressed against yours.

“You’re so warm,” he murmurs into your ear. And you can only sigh in response.

'I'll buy you 1000 more lingerie sets if we can do this again."

[unriding]

TRYING TO TAKE YOU HOME WHEN YOU DON’T RECOGNIZE THEM. ft. dan heng, jing yuan, mydei, phainon, and sunday.

sfw. f!reader. in which the hsr men try their best to convince you that they really are your boyfriend and not a complete stranger trying to take you back home after a long night out.

cw for implied alcohol consumption. not mentioned otherwise — just the silly scenario where reader seemingly doesn’t recognize them upon first glance. prompt from anon on prev blog! fem!reader for all.

— DAN HENG.

He wonders if this was truly the best course of action.

“Give me back my jacket, you jerk...” your words come out slurred, barely mustering the strength needed to keep your hold on his sleeve as you trail behind him down the street.

His jacket — he'd usually correct you — but he doesn't this time, lest you eventually come to the conclusion that the mentioned jacket isn't even yours and therefore holds no importance.

“Soon. The agreement we settled on was that if you don't make a scene, I'll give it back.”

It sounds like a threat.

And if someone were to spot him now, this would certainly paint his image in a light that he would much rather not be perceived in, if given the choice.

He knows this all too well — apparent from the nervous sweat collecting along his temples and the frequent clearing of his throat whenever your grip begins to loosen, but you seem to only giggle at the statement now, eagerly nodding along.

“Really? You pinkie promise, stranger? I'll be reaaall quiet then.”

“Yes,” his brows furrow — from either stress or a sense of urgency that you don't seem to have, “I give you my word. So, please, keep your voice down and follow me.”

You respond with a cheerful hum before eventually falling silent again, the street quiet aside from the patter of your clumsy footsteps following closely behind his own.

Though it’s short-lived, much to Dan Heng’s misery.

Only about a minute or two goes by until you start to tug on his sleeve, and his heart nearly stops beating in his chest. Perhaps you’ve already realized. Or perhaps you’ve pegged him as a dangerous type of guy — which wouldn’t surprise him, given the circumstances.

“Hey…” you tug once more, even harder now, and then stop walking entirely — shifting your weight backwards to avoid being pulled straight into him.

Uh oh.

“Hey.... stranger?” You're mumbling now, eyes locked on the floor, and his breath is stuck in his throat.

“I'm sleepy.”

“You.. you want to sleep,” He repeats, still uncertain — his words coming off a bit too similar to that of a question. “Right now?”

You nod, hands coming to rub at your eyes, as if doing so could wipe away the sudden wave of drowsiness that has overtaken you. Though, your efforts prove to be futile in the end, with each blink becoming slower than the last.

“Yes,” you murmur, “Here. I'm going to nap … and then .. and then I need to find my boyfriend.”

Boyfriend. A part of him is relieved you remember, at least. Perhaps the other critical piece of information will find its way back to you soon as well.

Your eyes flutter back open when something familiar is draped across your shoulders. “Don't sleep here.”

“Here,” he turns around, lowering himself onto a knee to gesture for you to climb on. “I'll take you to your boyfriend.”

— JING YUAN.

“My boyfriend taught me how to fight, so don’t you even dare.”

He blinks, once, twice — the hand gently patting your head a moment ago now entirely frozen in place. “Oh?”

It makes sense as soon as you turn to glare at him. While he’s rather certain he hasn’t done anything to warrant such a look, another part of him — his heart, skips a happy beat over how adorable you look, even if you’re not smiling at him like usual.

“I see,” Jing Yuan continues again, only a moment later, taking a seat beside you (and choosing to ignore the way you make the conscious effort to scoot an inch away from him). Sassily so, he might add, similar to the way you so endearingly turn your body away from him and puff your cheek out when he’s teased you just a bit too much for your liking.

His hand finds its way back to you again, slower this time — traces over your cheek until he gently cups it in an effort to feel the warmth radiating from your skin. A chuckle almost betrays him and slips out at the sight of your eyes nearly fluttering shut, subconsciously leaning into his touch until you abruptly come back to your senses and swat at his hand.

He smiles at you. “Hm. Your boyfriend — is that right?”

Your eyes narrow at the amusement in his voice, likely wondering why a stranger would be speaking to you so familiarly. “My boyfriend. The one with a suuuper heavy weapon that …. that you probably couldn’t pick up … with help.”

“Ah, how admirable he must be. You have no need for worry — I would never dream of wielding such a weapon.”

You huff before deciding to face the opposite direction, all whilst scooting a secondary inch away from him. Perhaps a third, for extra measure.

“This boyfriend of yours,” he speaks again, holding back a chuckle when you dramatically sigh at the sound of his voice once again, “surely he wouldn’t mind someone like myself keeping you company until he returns, wouldn’t you think?”

“I have grown quite curious. Perhaps he would allow me to see this impressive weapon for myself.”

— MYDEI.

“Actually, you’re rather comfy, stranger.”

Mydei only huffs in response before glancing over his shoulder from where you’re draped over his left like a sack of potatoes, quickly confirming that … as of now, you still seem content, at least.

“I’ve told you before. I’m no stranger.” The singular arm currently holding your thighs to his chest tightens, and you only giggle against his back, arms freely dangling beneath you. “Yeah, yeah.”

You’ve been surprisingly cooperative. In fact, he thinks he should make a mental note to remind you about being less trusting of strangers tomorrow — because .. surely, it should not have been so easy to convince you that he could simply carry you to your ‘boyfriend.’

Even now, when he’s seemingly been reduced to nothing aside from a mere stranger, you’re as inviting and friendly to him as ever — mumbling something about his strength, followed by a worried “Hey but — let me know if you get tired or anything, okay?”

So, he lets you talk, opting to silently listen to you ramble on about your day (aside from the occasional glances over his shoulder to check on you). It’s only when he hears a sudden shift in your voice that he stiffens.

“Say…” you start, drawing patterns along his back with a finger, as if nervous about his response. “Do you think Mydei’s worried?”

“I don’t want to worry him,” he lets you continue, eyes shifting back to the path ahead of him. “What do you think, strong stranger? He won’t be mad, right? Or sad, maybe?”

He huffs. “No. He wouldn’t be mad. Not at you.”

— PHAINON.

“Oh.” You hug your knees in disappointment to let out another heavy sigh, one far too telling of your emotions — practically seeping back into your lonely puddle when you realize that this person who had found you in your corner was also in fact… not your boyfriend.

“‘Oh?’ Well, someone doesn’t sound very excited to see me.”

The stranger decides to approach you anyway, taking a seat on the tiles beside you before letting out an exhale himself, back of his head coming to lightly rest against the wall. “What’s on your mind?”

“Hmph,” you leer at him from where your head is halfway buried in your arms, knees hugged tightly against your chest. “I wanted to see my boyfriend, not some random person. I’m tired, y’know.”

“Your boyfriend? How strange.” The confusion starts to leave his face the longer he looks at you — lips curling ever so slightly at the idea that suddenly comes to mind.

“He must be cruel … to leave you here all by yourself.”

He almost slips and calls you cute when you stick an arm out to weakly jab a finger into his shoulder, turning your head to the side again to mutter a “Hey. He’s not cruel.”

Truly too cute — the way your eyes have narrowed into something resembling a glare — the same one you always give him whenever you scold him for being too careless. Though, it tends to fade as soon as it comes, replaced with soft kisses against the crown of his head as you lull him back to sleep.

“Aw,” He’s smiling now, “You’re certain he’s not cruel?”

“Obviously I’m certain,” You huff, ignoring the way he seems to look happier at this and hugging your knees even tighter against your chest. “I like being around him. A whole lot, actually.”

The way his eyes begin to soften at your (unintentional) affection most definitely wouldn’t go unnoticed by you, he’s sure, nor the way his hand twitches — wanting nothing but to extend in your direction to pull you in for a hug. Though, luckily enough for him, you’ve settled on resting your head in the comfort of your own arms again, oblivious to the lovesick one seated beside you.

“I’ll make sure to tell him again … when I see him. So let me be, you weird stranger.”

— SUNDAY.

If someone happened to be wondering whether a halovian’s wings flap awkwardly when rendered completely speechless — this would be their golden opportunity to witness it firsthand.

“M-my apologies,” his wings flutter again, then a third time when your hand only tightens around his wrist, eyes narrowing at him in suspicion. “Please excuse me. I was only checking for your temperature, since you seem to be rather…”

“No.” You don’t let go. In fact, you hold onto him as if you’ve just now captured a crook attempting to steal March’s snacks.

“..Forgive me,” his eyes flicker from your hand to your eyes — then back to your hand. As if there may be a slim chance that you’ve simply forgotten about the ironclad grip on his wrist and would release him from his confinement, soon. Surely. “Then perhaps I should go get you a glass of wa—”

“No.”

“…”

“I… I see.” The nervous flutter of his wings shifts to something more sheepish — one wing moving to cover his mouth, as if deep in thought. Which wouldn’t be far from the truth, for even someone such as himself is left dumbfounded by your current behavior. “Then.. is there anything you’d like for me to help with? Someone like March may be better suited for..”

“My boyfriend…” he falls silent as soon as you speak, noting the softness of your words now — barely above a hushed whisper (though the familiarity has him quickly perking up in response). “I want my boyfriend.”

His head tilts at this. Subtly. Truly confused — and even more so when your brows furrow only a second later, followed by a tug on his wrist. “I want my boyfriend.”

“You’re stuck with me until we find my boyfriend.”

[handlemehyuck]

take what you need from me . lee jeno

・❥・ cockwarming (reader falls asleep during) + light fingering 18+ mdni fluff, stress relief, jeno x female reader 1.2k

thinking about cockwarming with boyfriend jeno, and its presence in your nighttime routine—the hints he receives in texts throughout the day, and that’s how this all started: your stress.

one evening, the energy that joined your arrival back home weighed down your shoulders, clouded your gaze, and kept your lips in a tight line when you approached your boyfriend after kicking off your shoes. so he took your hand, led you to your bedroom, and started undressing. every article of clothing shed enhanced the light in your eyes, straightening your posture with intrigue. when he was naked and perched on the edge of your bed, his fingertips flicked the buttons of your blouse, “may i?” the permission was easy—immediate, and he began undressing you slowly, taking his time, each movement made with care; there was no need to rush. once you were naked too, he leaned forward to kiss the stripe of skin beneath your breasts, squeezing your waist as the gentle ministration started the heavy task of clearing your head.

“i want to try something.” you watched with curiosity and awe as jeno pushed himself back until he was leaning against the headboard, muscles flexing, slivers of sunshine brushing his skin in a perfect glow. your lips parted at the sight, instinctually moving forward and taking his outstretched hand. you knew what this was. you had mentioned it before, when you were on his lap in the living room. it was a sunday night, serenity in the air and you half-dressed after a shower. he didn’t bat an eye, said you should try it while tracing your delicate lines of ink, wondered aloud if you already had. only a couple of times. with the wrong person, but a seed of something was still planted: closeness—a complete union.

your knees sink into the mattress, distance closing as you approach his waist, cock hard against his taut stomach, but his eyes are gentle and soft. jeno smiles at you, something reassuring as your legs widen to accommodate the width of his thighs. a guiding hand placed on your hips as you sink down.

the stretch is familiar. his hands on your thighs are warm. your locked gazes send a chill down your spine. for a moment, all you do is watch each other, feeling his length exactly where you want it, loving the warm buzz of need but knowing you won’t give in. you tilt your head, eyes closing as the waves of sweet euphoria lap at the edges of your mind, begging for a total flood. jeno draws you closer. your chests collide. your head dips, lips meeting his skin, grazing his neck, and sucking your favorite spot behind his ear—the place that always pulls a delicious sound from his lips. his strong arms hold you in a soft possession, fingertips kneading over your shoulders and down your back, searching for the spot that wakes you up in the middle of the night.

the feeling of your body going slack in his arms is electrifying because jeno knows what it means—how significant it is to be trusted completely, reminded of a moment so early on it feels like a lifetime ago when he told you: take what you need from me. he remembers the surprise that shifted your features. it widened your eyes, parted your lips, and warmed your cheeks. in that moment, his words meant a million things. neither one of you could know exactly where they’d begin and where they’d end, if anywhere at all. in the moments you feel like you’re taking too much, all jeno experiences is satisfaction and safety in your heart as the man you decided was worth letting in, letting yourself be known by, letting yourself connect with, and fall and tumble into something so intertwined you don’t doubt it’s cosmic.

jeno knows you’ve fallen asleep and readjusts himself ever so slightly, propping up another pillow behind him before closing his own eyes to focus on the rise and fall of your chest. the beat he feels against his own is recognized by his heart, and his breath matches yours.

you wake up to the sound of your name mumbled against your skin, an apologetic tone. “baby, i’m so sorry. i’ve got to piss.”

you hum, amused and start to lift yourself, but jeno stops you, catching you in a blissful kiss. his thumb teases the side of your breast, hardening your nipples. no fair. when he pulls away, you kiss his nose and finally disconnect with a sigh. one that melts into his own.

he’s still taking his time, and you lay propped up on your side to admire all of his solid lines, finding the soft and round places with ease. “are you sure you have to pee?”

“my leg’s asleep.” his smile is lazy, eyes shrinking to crescents. a light laughter follows, spilling a similar glow to the sun’s throughout your bedroom, its light gone until morning.

“should i stab it with a pen?” his expression sends you into giggles, and you settle for gentle squeezes along his quad muscle. “not my jen, i could never.” you fall onto your stomach and pepper kisses just above his knee. “better?” jeno hums, encouraging you to keep going.

you kiss his body until jeno stops you, groaning about the damn bathroom again, knowing his hard on will create an unfortunate struggle. “don’t go anywhere.” like you ever would.

you coo loudly, embarrassing him as he waddles through your closet and into the attached bath. “shut up!”

you turn to lay flat on your back, drawing a fingertip up your abdomen and through the valley between your breasts, completely immersed in euphoria. “don’t you dare come back in here without washing your hands.”

“who do you think i am?” the faucet turns on for a full 30 seconds - yes, you count them - before your boyfriend is back and standing over your body. he admires you: the curves he’d recognize with his eyes closed, your blissful expression, the swell of your chest, faint bruises from the weekend decorating your hip. “should we make love, baby?”

“please,” his thumb traces your lips, and you watch his face with wide eyes, eager not to miss a thing.

“you always ask so nicely, doll.”

“jen,” you moan as he pops his thumb into your mouth. your tongue circles it on instinct, satisfied, he draws it out. “please don’t make me wait.”

“i wasn’t going to,” he kisses your nose and then your forehead. sinking into the mattress, his knees entrap you this time. his thumb is coated in your saliva, not that he needs the help—your folds are already soaked. “mmm, always ready for me too.”

“you make it easy, jen.” you squirm beneath him, close to steering his thumb exactly where you need it.

he’s being playful, knowing there’s hours ahead of this, and you’ll be orgasmic until the sun rises. it’s one of the reasons why he has a thing about middle of the night lovemaking. he can only see so much of you in the moonlight. the shadows are exciting, lines of light find you in the lewdest places. but, his favorite part is watching you clarify—his love all over you as the sun stretches and yawns before you’re completely coated in light. light that sticks to your swollen lips, messy hair, bruised skin, the place where your bodies intertwine, his hand around your neck, your eyelids fluttering when his name is the only thing left to say because you know it makes him cum.

[cherriesncinnamon]

forgive me / father charlie x fem!reader

synopsis: after recently becoming involved with the catholic church, you soon start having inappropriate fantasies about your priest. desperately wanting to atone, you confess your sins.

warnings/tags: handjob, unprotected sex (don't try this at home), mentions of self harm/repentance, priest x reader (i mean no harm to the catholic community, this is just fiction).

word count: 1.3k.

a/n: sooooo🥰 i'm obsessed with nicholas chavez. i'm not gonna lie, i haven't seen grotesquerie fully, but after seeing his scenes i had to write a one shot about father charlie. this is completely and utterly feral. me when i need him biblically.

link to another father charlie piece i've done due to popular demand!!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

I've never been a religious person. I've always believed that a higher power is unprovable, leading to my agnosticism. My mother is a devout Catholic, but she's never particularly pushed her beliefs onto me. That was until recently when she threatened to disown me if I refused to come to church for another Sunday.

The people are insufferable, the sermons are unstimulating, and I cannot bear knowing I could be doing something much more exciting with my morning. I sit at the very end of the pew, arms crossed in anguish, awaiting a middle aged, balding priest to appear and preach for an hour. But to my surprise, a much younger version emerges instead. Dark thick hair, darling brown eyes, and a charming smile. My eyes widen with intrigue at the strikingly handsome man before me. He begins to speak, walking up and down the rows of people, truly passionate about what he's saying. I'm paying attention to the words, but not so much the message. After the communion and the drinking of the wine, my mother and I mingle for a bit, chatting uselessness to the bored housewives. Church is the only liberating part of their week, and now I know why.

As if by a miracle of God, I become Catholic overnight. My mother is shocked at my interest in coming to church the following week, and the week after that, and that week after that. Each time I see him, my desire intensifies. Knowing that he has taken a vow of celibacy only entices me more. I imagine him bending me over the pews, his singular ring leaving an indent in my upper thigh. I need to confess. I need to release this demon that is plaguing my thoughts.

On a stormy Friday evening, I make my way to the back of the church, placing three hesitant knocks on his office door. The rest of the building is vacant, candle light being my only source of sight. His voices seeps through the door, permitting me to enter.

"Ah, Miss Y/L/N, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He welcomes me in with a warm smile, putting down the pen he was holding to usher me to sit.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I- I've come to confess." I swallow, stuttering my words in fear. Father Charlie cocks his head in question.

"I see. Anything you say should be in confidence, your confession will be safe with me." He replies, nodding in reassurance. I fiddle with the hem of my skirt in anticipation, heat rising to my cheeks from simply being alone with him. I drape my long hair over my shoulder and clear my throat.

"I've been having impure thoughts, Father."

"Okay. And what do these thoughts detail?" He probes, clasping his hands together on the wooden desk. The Bible sits closed next to him; I can feel it judging me.

"Sexual thoughts. I want to pleasure myself, but I know I can't." I grip at my throat which has become tight, my stomach tingling with the remembrance of my fantasies. Charlie loosens his Roman collar, eyes searching the room for anything to look at besides me.

"I think about you, Father. You punishing me for my sins, taking me, sliding yourself into me." I spill, cheeks on fire and wine red. Father Charlie is quick to stand up from his chair, pacing to the other side of the room.

"I have taken a vow. Please do not seduce me." He begs, reaching for the door handle.

I stand in front of him, his tall frame towering over me, eyes fixated on mine. His chest is heaving, lips slightly parted as he breathes. Standing on the tips of my toes, I whisper.

"Don't you want to know what it feels like, Father? Just once?" My bottom lip lightly grazes his ear lobe, increasing his breathing pace. Our faces are mere centimetres apart, and I'm using all of my might to stop myself tasting him.

"I cannot abandon my faith, I mustn't." He insists, expression pained and frustrated. His brow is furrowed, forehead glazed in sweat. I can tell he is holding himself back with all his strength, and I'm feeling brave.

I take my fingertips and slide them over his clothed cock, smiling as it hardens under my gentle touch. Charlie goes to remove my hand, but quickly retracts when I speed up, using my palm to add pressure. I slowly undo his leather belt, lifting the waistband of his black pants. Taking him in my grasp, I stroke his thick length, watching in euphoria as his head tips back in bliss. His hands seek the stability of the doorframe for support, his knees weakening more every second.

"Feel me." Slipping my panties to the side, I guide his fingers to my pussy, slick with my arousal, begging for contact.

"Oh, forgive me Lord." He cries out, teasing my entrance with his digits while I excite his tip dripping pre-cum with my thumb. He stares at me in awe when I lick myself off his fingers, cock throbbing, veins pulsing blood into him until he's unbearably hard.

Hungry for my kiss, he devours my lips, biting my bottom lip playfully. Our tongues slide across one another, his hands gripping the sides of my face. He tastes like the Merlot we have at communion; sweet and fruity. My hands snake around his neck, twirling the thick locks of hair at the nape. His lips take interest elsewhere, peppering erotic pecks across my jaw, to my neck, and to my chest. I unbutton my white dress shirt, revealing my braless breasts. His eyes widen, immediately manhandling and kissing the supple skin.

"I want to feel you inside of me. Please, Father." I moan, perching myself on the edge of his desk, skirt hiked up to my hips. I spread my legs wide, fully revealing myself to him. He exhales in defeat, slotting himself between me.

Charlie rests his hands on either side of me on the desk while I line up his cock to my entrance, pushing my hips towards him. Grabbing my waist, he enters me, his length filling my walls like a glove. His voice groans deeply against my neck, his hand pressed on my lower back for support. His thrusts start off slow and juvenile, but quickly speed up to a pace we both can't take for long. I wrap my legs around him, pulling him in deeper. I moan sweet noises with every movement and caress, realising that this is better than I could've imagined.

"You feel so good, this feels so good." He sobs, nails digging into my hips so hard they leave streaks of blood. The cross around his neck swings in my face, reminding me of how sin can feel so good.

Waves of pleasure wash over me, the coil inside of me tightening by the second. I pull the back of his head close to me as my climax arrives. I bite his lip hard in satisfaction, tasting his blood on my tongue. It's not long before he follows in a moaning mess, burying his head into my chest, grabbing my breast as his warm cum fills me.

It takes a minute of getting our breaths back to move. I use a tissue to wipe his seed off my thighs. Father Charlie hastily redresses, fixing his collar and clutching his necklace.

"Lord, forgive me. Forgive me for this cardinal sin. Forgive me for enjoying it." He prays on his knees, staring up at a portrait of God. I place my hand on his back, feeling some guilt.

"I need to repent. You need to punish me." He says, picking up his leather belt from the floor and placing it in my hands.

"How can something that feels like this be a sin?" He asks me, tears in his eyes. I shake my head, not knowing the answer myself. He takes his shirt off, showing me his scarred back.

"Punish me, please."

[pedriscroquettes]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐔𝐘𝐄𝐑𝐎 ✮ FRANCO COLAPINTO

summary. you hated franco for stealing your friend’s seat not knowing that it’d lead to a night of regret.

warnings. enemies to fwb’s, p in v, semi public s3x, major plot twist at the end, & cheating. franco & reader match each other’s FREAK! 18+

a/n. gif by argentinagp! i love latinos!

YOU HAD PROMISED everyone on the paddock that you wouldn’t judge the new driver too quickly. The week leading up to his arrival had been spent reminding yourself that he didn’t steal Logan’s seat on purpose yet you were still mad. You had grown quite fond of the american over the past months and losing a friend had made you bitter. You couldn’t bring yourself to blame Logan for losing his seat so you resorted to the newly arrived brunette.

“He doesn’t bite.” Alex whispers as he notices the glare you’re sending the brunette.

“But he scavenges.” You murmur as the press surrounds the rookie.

“It’s not like he killed Logan.” Alex scoffs.

He didn’t but it felt like he had. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the way the media had already forgotten about your friend and put Franco on a pedestal. He had just arrived a day ago and already he was flaunting himself as the next Hamilton reincarnate. You turn around too frustrated with yourself for hating him when you didn’t even know him.

“Hola.” A thick accent interrupts your thoughts. You hesitantly turn around only to be met with the guy who took your best friend away. “Those colors don’t suit you.”

“Excuse me?” You replied shockingly wondering where his sense of entitlement came from.

“Ah, lo siento. I meant blue would look better on you.” His cheeks change hues realizing his words came out wrong.

“It would If I cared about Williams.” You smile sarcastically watching as his smile falters. “I’ve gotta go but score at least one point, yeah?”

Franco stays still in disbelief wondering if his comment on your clothes had completely pissed him off. Was his english really that bad? Did he come off too strong? He wondered if the rest of the paddock would hate him or if he was just overreacting.

“Don’t worry about her mate. She’s very reluctant to new people. Give her time.” Alex shrugs.

As the weekend progresses you spend your time between the Alpine garage and the trailers. You were lucky Alex and Lily had agreed to spend the whole weekend with you. You stared at the street as Leo climbed into your lap making you pet him. Practice had just started and you couldn’t help but keep a close eye on Williams. You had began to mindlessly rant to your friends over your encounter with the rookie and how it would most likely take him months to replace Logan.

“When this weekend is over I’m taking you with me to workout because you need to relieve that anger.” Lily laughs.

“No, seriously. You’re acting like he’s committed first degree murder when he had nothing to do with Logan leaving.” Alex sounds concerned.

“Look, I know I sound crazy but I swear there’s something off about him. Plus, y’all do remember the comment he made about me right?” You tried to validate yourself.

“English isn’t his first language it was an honest mistake. Either way he just took that Williams to Q1.” Lily motions towards the screen.

“Whatever. Are we all still on for Sunday?” You asked referring to the plans the drivers had made after the race.

“Obviously. Although we may need to monitor you all night to make sure you don’t damage the new rookie.” The two of them laugh as you sit there annoyed.

The sun was beginning to set as you made your way back to the Alpine garage. Your short white dress was the perfect outfit to keep you cool during the blazing heat of the summer. You were excited to spend the afternoon debriefing with Pierre until you run head first into someone. You try to balance yourself by holding yourself against their chest and as you slowly bring your head up you brace yourself for the apology you’re about to make. But then you see his face and that apology never makes it out your mouth.

“Do you not watch where you’re going?” You scoff at the Williams driver.

“I do. I do it very good actually. Or I wouldn’t be here.” He jokes. “It was you who couldn’t see well or else you would’ve seen me.”

“You’re quite full of yourself aren’t you.” You murmur as you fix your dress.

“People pay me to drive of course I am.” He pulls his sunglasses out his face to look at you directly. He has a glint of confidence in his eye and you can’t help but roll your eyes at his ego.

The two of you stood there alone as practice was long over and the drivers had gone back to their trailers to wind down. Your friends were probably going to ask you why you were late and you couldn’t bear the thought to tell them that you’d gotten into another argument with the rookie. You would get teased for it until the season ended.

“You know this whole hating me thing because you think I stole your friend’s seat, when he lost it because he wasn’t good enough, is so hot.” He smirks.

Any quick remarks you once had were now completely forgotten. His words completely took you by surprise and now you were just confused. Had he taken your witty words as flirting? Had you mistakenly led him on? Or was he just being a prick?

“Though, you could put that mouth to better use.” He says loud enough so only you can hear.

Your cheeks heat up at his comment and you can’t help but feel flustered at his words. Suddenly even the short dress you were wearing wasn’t enough to keep you cool. You instinctively bite your lip as you try to think of anything to say to him but you’re utterly speechless. He’s finally gotten under your skin and he hasn’t even raced yet.

“There’s something genuinely wrong with you.” You say.

“Adiós nena.” He smiles at you before wandering off leaving you all alone to process what had just happened.

The rest of the walk to the Alpine garage is awkward and quick. You try your best to store the encounter with Franco in the back of your mind. You do a bad job at it because his words echo in your mind for the rest of the day. You don’t tell anyone what happened that day because it was weird and also you weren’t even sure what had happened that day.

It’s finally race day and you brush off your white skirt as you walk towards the paddock. You’d meet the girls in the Ferrari garage as Charles had wanted to surprise Alex with a girl’s day. You kept your hands above your eyes to protect them from the sun while subtly trying to ignore the camera flashes headed towards you. As you approach the garages you pause for a little. It had become a tradition for you to greet Alex before any race, a superstition that began when Pierre won the Italian Grand Prix, but now you were hesitant to visit the Williams garage.

You sighed coming up with the decision that an awkward conversation with the Argentine rookie shouldn’t stop you from visiting one of your closest friends. You do a 180° heading straight for the garage. It’s a short walk due to you walking as fast as possible to Alex’s booth. The engineer’s greet you already recognizing your face from the past couple of races. There’s a huge group of familiar faces in the room except the Thai. Your eyes drift around hoping to find him so you’re not late to meet up with your friends but you can’t find Alex anywhere.

“He’s with Lily.” A voice spooks you.

“Franco.” you sigh. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here. The real question should be why are you here?” His condescending tone irks you as he plasters that dumb smirk on his face.

“That’s none of your business.” You reply. “Tell Alex I was looking for him. I’ll be on my way now.”

He grabs your wrist before you can turn on your heels stopping you. You’re now completely face to face with him that you can practically feel his body warmth.

“Something tells me you came looking for me using your friend as an excuse.” He says below a whisper.

“Did your parents teach you that the world revolves around you? Has it ever occurred to you that you are not as important as you think you are?” You scoff. “I’m here for Alex and I would be here for Logan too but you ruined that.”

“Ay, boluda.” He laughs in disbelief. “It seems the only condescending person here is you because guess what? I earned this seat. My parents sold our house so I could be here meanwhile your little friend just spent his trust fund and wasted it.”

You run out of remarks at that. You’d spent all this summer terrorizing him unaware of who Franco really was. Although you weren’t going to apologize, you were too proud for that.

“It’s okay though I wouldn’t expect for a pretty dumb little thing like you to get it.” His voice goes hoarse. Your mind goes blank at his words unable to register his hand ending up on your waist pushing you into him.

Those are the last words he says to you before he abruptly pulls away leaving you alone to process the encounter. Your hand instinctively goes to the necklace on your neck caressing it as you try to regain your breath. You can feel how warm your cheeks are and instantly feel embarrassed at the weird tingly feeling in your stomach. Most importantly you couldn’t believe that out of all the people here Franco is the one who put you in this state.

“Oh, good you’re here! Hopefully I’ll get points today because of you.” Alex smiles at you.

“Go crush them. I have to go though have to meet Gasly before the race. You know go over his strategy for the race.” You stammer trying to find an out of the Williams garage.

“Yeah mhm.” He waves you off. “The two of you better show up to the party! Last one before the break!”

The Ferrari garage erupts into cheers as Charles makes it on the podium again. Alexandria and Lily both scream into your ear as both their boyfriends score points for their teams. Meanwhile you stare blankly as the screen as it shows both Alpine cars outside of the points. Then as if the Universe was making fun of you, Franco shows up on the screen celebrating his P8. You hated him, you hated his confidence, you hated the way he took Logan away from you, but most importantly you hated him because the sweaty messy hair he was showing off made you weak. Your mind instantly replayed this morning’s conversation and you found yourself dizzy.

“Are you okay? Is it cuz you guys didn’t get any points today?” Lily tries to console you.

“No, it’s not that.” You give her a fake smile. “This whole weekend has been kind of too much for me and I think I’m starting to feel the effects. I’m gonna go to the trailers but I’ll see y’all at the party later?”

“Feel better love! Wear something slutty!” Alexandria yells as you walk off.

The pink dress you had picked out for tonight was beginning to annoy you. It was incredibly short so you didn’t know if you should pull it up or down. And knowing Franco would be there made you overthink your idea not wanting to give him the impression that you had dressed up for him. You internally roll your eyes at yourself for even thinking about changing clothes because of a man. That wasn’t you. The effects of the rookie began to scare you.

You don’t waste anymore time heading out the suite and straight to your Uber. It was a short drive and the bouncer didn’t last long finding your name on the list. Lily and Alexandria immediately started screaming at the sight of you and welcomed you into the round table. Most of the drivers were still at the track recovering from their race so thankfully you sat next to Lily with no one to your right. You hoped Alex would hurry up so you’d get to gossip with your friend.

“That rookie ended up with points. I think your hate fueled him.” Lily teases you.

“Are we really going to talk about him, right now?” You sigh.

“He proved you wrong of course we’re gonna talk about it.” She says

“It was pure luck.” You spit out unaware of the brunette walking towards your table.

“What was?” The familiar voice makes you shiver. Lily can’t help but laugh as how wide your eyes go. You slowly turn around to meet the guy that had been torturing you this whole weekend.

“Oh, nothing-” Lily tries to save you.

“Your race today. It was pure luck.” You say defiantly being too stubborn to retract your words.

“Pure luck?” He repeats in disbelief.

“She didn’t mean it-” Lily tries to come to your rescue again.

“Oh, no. I meant it. He’ll be ending up P12 in the next races. I guarantee you won’t see anymore points after this. You’re just here on a test drive and then? Every one will forget you were ever here.” You take a swig of your drink. You don’t even register the malice behind your words being too heated to even comprehend what you’re saying.

His face heats up and his cheeks change hues as he registers your words. You blink and he’s gone. He wanders off to who knows where and it’s then that you register what you’ve told him. You warm up and suddenly you’re dizzy.

“What the fuck?” Lily whispers. “You better go find him and apologize.”

“He started it!” You whine.

“No, you did. You’ve hated him since he arrived when he’s done nothing to you.” Her words make you feel bad. “Now, go find him.”

You stand up adjusting your dress as you scan around the club looking for him. You wander off in hopes of finding him before he leaves. Why was it so hard to find a tall brunette in a crowd of average height people? You give up after five minutes resorting to asking the bartender if he’d seen your ‘friend’ and suddenly you found yourself outside. Franco is leaning against the wall looking at his phone but he’s wearing glasses now.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses.” You squeak afraid that you’d scare him off.

He looks up at you not saying a single word. Your presence pisses him off and he starts to walk away. You follow him to the back of the bar stopping him before the two of you got lost.

“Look, I didn’t mean anything I said. I’m sorry.” You play with the hem of your dress being too afraid to look at him.

“Did he fuck you good?” His face is stern.

“W-what?” His words catch you off guard. The temperature around you somehow getting warmer.

“Logan. Did he fuck you good?” He asks again with a meaner tone. “That’s why you’re mad at me, right?”

What you and Logan did behind closed doors was private, something no one else knew. Something you thought the two of you had managed to keep in secrets. Your cheeks flare up at Franco’s discovery. Were you really so bad at hiding your secrets? If he knew then who else did? You were fucked.

“Franco you don’t know what you’re talking about.” You try so hard to lie. His smirk makes it known that he doesn’t believe you.

One minute you’re lying to his face and the other he’s right in front of you eyeing you down. You can practically feel his body warmth as he invaded your personal space. He had one upped you, again. The innocent facade he had in front of your friends was completely gone.

“Ay, que linda que sos.” His thumb traces your cheek. The touch lingers, your cheeks heating up at the contact. “You’re such a terrible liar.”

“There’s something seriously wrong with you, you know that?” You barely say above a whisper.

“No, there’s something wrong with us.” His hand travels down your cheek to your neck.

That last word throws you off because it’s true, the indescribable pull you felt to him was insane, the two of you were insane. You were tired. You were tired of hiding secrets, Franco’s personality, but most importantly you were tired of pretending. Pretending that you didn’t want Franco. So, you do what you do best when you’re tired. You relieve yourself. You pull Franco by the shirt and kiss him ignoring the feel of his glasses hitting your face. He quickly turns the two of you around your back hitting the wall allowing for balance.

The two of you barely pull apart for air losing yourselves in the kisses. His brunette curls find their way into your fingers while his hands sit perfectly on your waist. The kiss grows heated as you pull him closer to you, feeling him. His hand begins to wander down your thighs, pulling them apart and wrapping your leg around his waist. You can feel yourself grow wetter at the new position and then you remember that your friends were still waiting for you.

“Franco, wait.” You groan.

“What? What happened?” He pulls away quickly.

“Everyone else is still waiting for us. You need to be…” You pause debating if this was really a good idea but had anything you’d done lately been a good idea? “Quick.”

He takes that as a challenge immediately pulling you in for a kiss again. The kiss is messy and needy with your hands in his hair and his hands massaging the inside of your thighs. The cool breeze hitting your exposed skin as he lifted your dress up. The roughness of the wall is soon forgotten as he brings his fingers down to your thighs, gliding them teasingly before placing them on your clothed core.

You can’t resist the groans that escape your throat as his cold fingers come in contact with your core. It’d been many weekends since anyone had touched you like this. He swallows your noises with his mouth as he kisses you. Your hands grip his arms as he begins to move his fingers around your folds, spreading your wetness. You remember that it’s been a while since the two of you walked outside and pull his fingers away.

“Franco. We don’t have time.” You gasp in between kisses.

He picks you up adjusting you against the wall while you dig your hands into the hem of his boxers. It doesn’t take long for your hands to venture down and feel him. Your stomach flutters at his size and how he feels. He quickly pulls you away before placing his tip near your entrance. Your morals long gone you grind on him wanting to feel anything. It’s pathetic the way you’ve gone from wanting him out of the sport to wanting him inside you and he notices it too by the way he smirks at you.

You’re about to lash out when he starts entering you slowly. If it wasn’t for him holding you then you’d have lost your balance already at the intrusion. He stills himself waiting for you to adjust to the new feeling. When he notices that you’re ready he pulls out before thrusting back into you, this time filling you to the hilt. It was almost as if he fit perfectly inside you.

“Fuck.” He groans as he fills you completely.

You’re not quite sure anyone’s ever felt so disgusting. You don’t even try to contain your moans as he continuously thrusts into you at a fervent pace. He feels so good inside you hitting spots no one else had before. His fingers leave mark on your hips as you take him fully. He looks down to where the two of you are connected and audibly groans at how well you’re taking him.

“Oh my god.” You whine as he increases his speed.

His hands come back done to your folds rubbing them in circles as he tries to pleasure you even more. Your hand joins his showing him where you need him the most. You can feel your slick coating his dick as he rubbed you. You begin to feel a familiar knot in your stomach as he fucks you into the wall. His hand cups your jaw as he pulls you into a long sloppy kiss.

It doesn’t take long after for you to come undone around him, your walls squeezing him as you reach your peak. He won’t last long with the feeling of you milking him. Soon enough he’s coming inside you, his warm cum filling you up. The sight of the two of you is disgusting and nasty.

The two of you break away from each other and catch your breaths. You lower your dress back down while Franco takes his glasses off to clean them. You check yourself for any runny mascara, or smudge lipstick, and even run your hands through your hair making sure you don’t look insane.

“We should head inside.” You murmur.

“We’re not gonna talk about this?” He scoffs.

“There’s nothing to talk about Franco. At least not know when everyone’s waiting for us.” You scold him. “We’ll talk next weekend.”

You head towards the bathroom first, Franco surprisingly waiting for you outside. The two of you walk in within a minute difference a smile adorning both your faces. At least until you spot Pierre next to Lily and you’re brought back to reality. You don’t waste time running towards the frenchman hugging him as you sit right next to him. Franco can’t help but stare at you in confusion as he notices Pierre’s hand trail too far down when hugging you. But then he spots it. Pierre wearing an identical necklace to yours but instead of a P it adorned your initial. His eyes go wide.

“I see you and my girlfriend have finally made up.” Pierre greets him.

“Your girlfriend?” His demeanor changes with the news. “I didn’t know.”

Pierre begins to explain how the two of you don’t like to be very public about your relationship. You can visibly see the moment in which Franco’s face goes pale. The next few weeks for you are hard racing between the Alpine garage and your girlfriends. Not to mention the quick pit stops to the Williams garage to wish Alex good luck. It’s a shame you get very little time with the rookie but he makes it work. In the end you really hope he doesn’t get a seat for next year, you can’t keep doing this.

[biblio-smia]

all these pictures of you

tasm! peter parker x reader

summary: the amount of photos peter has of you versus him is a problem you've taken upon yourself to fix

masterlist | requests are open! buy me a ko-fi!

a lazy sunday. a much needed one, considering the bruises peter had collected the night before.

damp air begins creeping out from under the bathroom door just as peter begins washing his hair - you can tell from the familiar crash of the shampoo bottle he always drops.

you fight the feeling of heavy eyes stubbornly, the sound of peter's shower threatening to lull you to sleep without him - only disrupted by the piercing ringing coming from peter's side of the bed.

it takes a while to track the noise of an alarm peter probably forgot to turn off in the mess of duvets, your fingers tapping the screen frantically once you find peter's phone.

there's only one big crack on his screen this time - peter's gotten better at taking care of his phones ever since he started calling you while out on patrol.

your own phone is elsewhere, either left behind in another room or out of battery and you need something to keep you awake until peter gets back. he should be almost done by now but each second feels like an eternity with such soft pillows under your head.

peter's password is muscle memory - if he could get your face to unlock his phone he would. instinct pulls you to the camera app to snap a few stupid photos but curiosity leads you to the contents of the rest of peter's gallery.

it's you, unsurprisingly. other than a few stray screenshots and some beautiful nature shots, it's you. you with a drink in your hand, you watching something on your phone, you with your back turned to peter.

dozens upon dozens, multiple scrolls worth of pictures of you - all of them probably the best anyone's been able to capture of you.

peter takes every picture of you with care - you're not sure there's a single photo where even the lighting looks off. even photos taken in five seconds tops were better work than you could've ever done.

you try to remember how many photos like these you have of peter. there's no shortage of photos of him on your phone but you're pretty positive the closest thing you've ever gotten is the photo currently on your lock screen - peter winking at you through a tall glass.

the bathroom door opens with a creak and peter sighs happily as he pads out of the bathroom, freshly washed and dried hair falling over his forehead even as he tried to push it away.

he's barely out a few seconds before he's jumped into bed with a groan muffled by the thick covers. it's not long before his face appears next to yours, sporting a cozy smile that makes your insides warm.

"watcha looking at?" peter hums, settling against his pillows and attempting to pull you into his arms.

he's surprised at your resistance, questions in his raised eyebrows as you only hum a response and lift yourself to hover over him.

you hoist yourself up and back up, aiming peter's camera carefully.

"what're you doing?" peter laughs, instinctively covering his face.

"shhh," you whisper, pulling peter's hand off carefully. you're really not sure how he does it but you do manage to get some photos of peter with a half-decent composition - though you'd argue that his face makes up for your lack of precision.

you let yourself lean into peter now, back to his chest with his arms wrapped securely around you as you analyze your new pictures. peter is greedy, nudging his nose into your skin right above where he kisses it.

"what's this about, hmm?" peter hums against your skin.

"nothing," you mumble, sending yourself all the photos. "you're just pretty."

peter's quiet, unusually so. his hand comes up from your waist to take his phone back and set it on his nightstand, arms coming to turn you towards him.

he's careful with you, hands holding your face, thumbs rubbing over your cheeks.

"come on, how can i not kiss you for that one?”

[tricksters-captain]

Declan O'Hara imagine - I'm not doing this.

A/N: I thought about this one shot weeks ago... finally writing it. Probably been done already by someone else but who isn't obsessed with rivals atm. I also haven't written in years.

Summary: Declan is fighting against himself and everything he believes in when you come into the picture.

Warnings: Age Gap, fem!reader, NSFW content 18+, strong language, bit of a slow burn.

"Taggie, honestly, I don't know why you'd ever willingly add Brussel sprouts to anything." You chuckled as you both crept through the door to the kitchen.

"They're good for you!" Taggie tried to defend her culinary choices for her Sunday lunch.

"If they're good for you then I always want to be bad."

"Who's being bad?" A thick Irish accent filled the room as Taggie's dad sauntered in, a mug of coffee in one hand with his other burrowed deeply into his trouser pocket.

"Dad, this is (Y/N). (Y/N) was just objecting to my sprouts."

"Oh yeah, I agree, terrible things. Even the dog won't eat 'em" Declan brought his mug to his lips, smirking through the thick moustache that hid his upper lip.

You felt your insides alight at his dark, playful expression as he teased Taggie.

That was the first time you knew you were a bad friend. A bad friend who wanted your new friend's father to lift you onto the kitchen table and bury his head between your thighs.

The thought made your cheeks burn red as you laughed at Declan's remark and Taggie's complaints against him.

The man left the kitchen when his eyes flitted back to you, sending you a nod and a 'lovely to meet you, (Y/N). '

You couldn't help but replay the way he said your name in your head over and over and over again until you were desperate for his voice to sing it again.

The next time you saw Declan O'Hara was at the O'Hara New Years Eve party.

"You better not spend the whole time in here. I'd actually like you to put a dress on and come out to dance at some point tonight." You pleaded with Taggie as she clasped your necklace for you.

"I'll try but I can't make any promises. Anyway, you're out there to be my eyes and ears. You need to tell me if anyone complains about the food, okay?"

"Yes, Taggie. But no one will because you are amazing and your food is amazing and you are so right for not letting me help you cook or serve after I burnt the soup last time." You faced her as she continued to prep the ingredients she would need for the feast she had planned.

"You are a great friend but you are a terrible cook." Taggie agreed. You felt a lump in your throat at the words. Were you a great friend for literally fantasising over her father after almost every time you had an interaction with him? "Now please go next door and make sure that all the tables have the right cutlery for me?"

"Anything for you, Agatha!" You headed to do as you were told. Looking down to smooth out your dress when you felt yourself collide with something solid.

"I'm so sorry!" You looked up to see Declan turning, laughing softly at your clumsiness.

"It's okay, love." Declan's own eyes fell down your body, his lips parting slightly as he took in the sight of you all dressed up. He knew you were an attractive girl but you were Taggie's age and one of her only friends in the surrounding neighbours beside Lizzie. "You look beautiful."

The sincerity in his voice caused a chill to roll up your spine.

"Thanks. You look very handsome too, Mr. O'Hara." You didn't know why you felt so shy around him. You were so used to owning your space and holding your confidence when you fancied someone.

"That's very kind, (Y/N). And it's Declan. I don't want to tell you again." Declan send you a wink as he started to pass you. "Hey, and no snogging my son at midnight. You're way too good for him."

Your heart squeezed at the taunt. Patrick was a gorgeous boy and he had tried to flirt with you when he met you but you were far too interested in Declan for Patrick to make any dent in your crush.

"He's not my type anyway." You managed to find your tongue to quip back an answer.

"Good girl."

Good Girl.

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself replying something entirely inappropriate in response.

As the night went on, you felt your heart drop more and more. Declan was obsessed with his wife. His wife was obsessed with anyone else.

You were desperate to try and make more conversation with the man but almost everyone was grabbing his attention to discuss some work matter or other.

As the countdown began, you gut wrenchingly watched as Maud and Declan kiss. You put on a smile and exchanged celebrations with those around you. Giving Lizzie a kiss on the cheek as her husband blanked her as he usually did.

"Happy New Year, chicken." Lizzie pressed on a faux smile as you did.

"Happy New Year, Lizzie."

"A little advice for your new years resolution if I may?" Lizzie whispered as she drew you closer.

"You may want to get better at hiding your admiration for Taggie's father. I know nothing hurts more than something you can't have." Lizzie's words took you back, you felt your cheeks burning red and your smile drop.

"Oh, Lizzie, I'm mortified! Please don't tell Taggie." You begged.

"Not a peep." Lizzie motioned locking her lips with a key before grabbing your hands to singing sway along with the room.

The night went on and Lizzie tried to encourage you to join in festivities. You drank more and more, being forced away whenever you tried to help Taggie wash up, and you soon found yourself needing some quiet time.

You let yourself into Declan's office, leaning against the desk, fingers gripping the underside to give you some stability when the room started to ever so slightly spin.

You closed your eyes. Inhaling a shaky breath when you heard the door creek open.

"I thought someone unwanted had decided to sneak through my things." Declan's melodic accent forced your eyes open.

"I'm wanted, am I?" You smirked slightly, through the sickness as your eyelids closed again.

Declan didn't respond. Instead he just studied you from across the room. His hands in his pockets, his stance leaning back just ever so slightly.

"You struggling there?" Declan was amused at your state.

You tried to push yourself off the desk but instead felt yourself stumble forward.

Declan's amusement quickly turned into concern as he stepped forward to catch you.

"Steady on." Declan had managed to stop you from hitting the floor, your face pressed against his chest, his strong arms engulfing you as he pulled you up towards him.

"I'm so sorry..." You mumbled as you leant away to look up at him.

His features were so strong up close. You could smell the whisky on his breath as your eyes lingered on his lips.

"Maybe we should get you some water and put you to bed."

Declan's words drew your eyes to his own. His chest seemed to go tight as he starred down into your glassy (Y/E/C) eyes.

"You can take me to bed any time you want, Mr O'Hara." Your words slurred together with your weak attempt of drunkenly flirting.

"It's Declan."

"Okay, Declan..."

That was the first time Declan had heard you say his name. Something inside him knew he wanted to hear you say it again but he fought against the thought, pulling away from you as you gained your stance.

"Let's hope you don't remember this in the morning, ay?" Declan tried to make light, convincing himself the electric feeling he had was nothing.

"Why? I finally got my chance in your arms. My dream come true."

"Yeah, you really won't want to remember this in the morning. Come on..." Declan opened the door, waiting for you to follow suite. The noise of the party echoed around you; you had almost forgot it was still going on outside.

"Have you ever thought about me?" You had no idea where this liquid confidence had stirred from.

There was a pause before he answered.

"No." He was lying. He knew he was lying. He watched the disappoint subtly encase your eyes as you pursed your lips into a thin smile.

"If I was dreaming, you would've said yes. Goodnight, Mr O'Hara."

"Goodnight, (Y/n)."

-------------------------------------------------------

As the weeks went on, rivals became friends. Friends became rivals. You grew closer to the O'Hara family and the moment from NYE had simply been forgotten. Or so you thought...

The dread that had filled your gut that New Years Day after you remembered the incident brewed inside of you for weeks. You had successfully avoided Declan, only seeing him in group scenarios and meetings for Venturer.

"(Y/N), I left some of my flyers on the table in the living room if you want to use them." Taggie climbed into her car, shouting over at you as she rushed off. You both had been going door to door for Venturer in different areas to cover more ground but you had run out of flyers to hand out.

"Thanks, Tag!" You rushed inside, running through the house that still held a cool air inside despite the early summer warmth outside.

"Careful!" You heard a voice proclaim as your bodies hit.

Within the blink of an eye, you had hit the floor with a body on top of you.

"Are you alright?" Declan groaned as you winced underneath his weight. The hard floor sent a wave of pain through your back but you had managed to not hit your head.

"Ow." You grumbled, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Did you hit your head?" Declan propped himself up on his arms, examining your face with a furrowed brow of worry.

"No." Was all you managed to say.

"I thought we had left bumping into each other for last year." Declan recalled on when you knocked into him last New Years Eve before the party had started.

"Clearly I'm not very good at keeping to New Year's resolutions."

Declan chuckled, pushing himself up before offering his hand.

You felt the warmth of his body leave you and the coldness of the floor pierce your bones.

You took his hand; hauling yourself to your feet.

"You sure you're okay?" Declan insisted. His hand reached out to take grip of your waist, his thumb and finger burning against your skin that had been revealed by the edge of your venturer top riding up. His other finger waved past your eyes, checking for concussion.

"I'm fine. No more running in the house with blind corners." You took a step back from the man, straightening your shirt to try and control the lingering feeling of the mans hand on you.

"Now... are we okay?" Declan rephrased,

"What do you mean?"

"(Y/N), don't play stupid. You've avoided me for almost half a year now. You won't even walk around the house without Caitlin or Taggie next to you."

You didn't think that Declan would've noticed with how busy he was with work and his life. Why would he have cared where you were or what you were doing in the house?

"I'm still living down my behaviour at New Years." You reluctantly admitted.

"What, that? Everyone says stuff they shouldn't when they've had a few too many. Doesn't mean you have to never look me in the eye again."

"What I said was completely inappropriate."

"Yes, it was. You're the same age as my daughter and I'm a married man but I'll have to admit I'm a little flattered." Declan tried his best to ease your anxiety. "I don't exactly see myself a teenage heart throb."

"I'm not a teenager." You bit back, the harshness your voice surprising you both.

"There's not much difference. You're practically a child and should be going for someone your own age." Declan quit the joking tone he had been using, taken back by your defence.

"Don't call me a child. I'm not the same age as Caitlin. I am older than Taggie and I've been with men before so I'm not playing silly little girl games over here. This isn't some school girl crush on a handsome teacher. You're right my feelings for you are inappropriate because you're a married man and I'm friends with your daughter but not because of my age. I know who I am and what I feel." A fire lit up your chest as you finally had broken out of the timidness you hated.

"You have no idea what you're talking about." Declan took a step closer to you, his stare burning into you as he lowered his voice.

"You're the one who reads people. Tell me what you see in me." You matched him, standing so close to him you could feel his breath on your face as you gritted your teeth.

The air was thick. The silence of the house engulfing you both, your breath audible and quick. You thought you could almost hear your heart thudding against your chest.

Declan was the one to break away. Storming to his office with a hard slam of the door.

How did your conversation turn so heated?

That night Declan tossed and turned, his head filled with moments of you. He rolled over and gently woke up his wife with soft strokes on her shoulder blades.

"What?" Maud hummed, rolling her head over her shoulder to Declan.

"I'm awake." Declan pressed himself against his wife.

"I can feel that." Maud looked at him through a sleepy gaze.

"Let me touch you." His fingers glided over her skin until he reached the space between her legs. Maud moaned quietly as Declan began to part her folds with his finger.

"Declan..." Maud sighed as she pressed her backside into him, feeling his member hard against her.

Declan wasted no time in entering her. He closed his eyes as his dick pressed inside his wife. And all he could see through the darkness was your eyes looking up at his. The first time he had seen you in the kitchen. The bump in the hall, the incident in his study, every time he had caught you intensely listening to one of his speeches to the group, the crash against the floor. You underneath him. The tiny bit of skin his hand had managed to caress from the bottom of your shirt.

He had never thought of you before. Not with Maud, not with his own hand and imagination and he couldn't make sense of why that night he finished almost as fast as his inexperienced teenage self had once before.

-----------------------------------------------------------

It had been Declan's turn to avoid you from that day. He couldn't be too close to you without feeling his throat go dry, a sickening guilt and twisting conflict rising with it.

It was the evening you'd find out whether Venturer was a real contender against Corrinium.

The O'Hara house was filled with people eagerly waiting except one who had decided to leave the house for good.

The house erupted in cheers and celebrations as the phone call confirmed it for you all.

You watched through the window as Maud drove off, leaving Declan and Taggie behind.

"We did it!" Taggie squeezed you tightly before embracing her father and to your surprise, Declan had also pulled you into a tight hug. You had hoped no one picked up on the slight awkwardness that left the embrace when Declan moved onto join the others. You couldn't help but feel it.

The party went on and you tried to keep an eye on Declan without making it too obvious (like Rupert and Taggie had failed to).

When Rupert left Declan's side for another whiskey, (Taggie swiftly disappearing just after), Declan slipped away to his study. You followed.

"I'm sorry about Maud." You made your presence known as you watched him place his glass down on the desk, his back to you when he replied.

"Don't."

"Fine." You clenched your jaw, unsure of what to say next at the warning in his tone.

"What do you want from me?" Declan's voice had a hint of desperation. He turned to face you. You had seen this look before.

"I don't––"

"––No 'cause you followed me in here. You are everywhere I look. I can't even get a wink of sleep most nights without dreaming of two things. You or beating Tony fucking Baddingham. And I can't think of you because you're young enough to be my daughter and I'm a fucking hypocrite for telling Rupert to stay away from Taggie when I look at you in that dress and wonder what you would look like with it on this floor right now. I'm not doing it. I can't do this."

Declan's outburst kept your feet frozen in place. Had he really just admitted to wanting you as badly as you wanted him.

You felt your hand roll the zipper of your dress down your side, your body moved without force as you slipped the straps over your shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

"Fuck..." Declan barely breathed out the word. His stare devouring every inch of your skin.

"I'm not doing this." Declan uttered again barely even audible as if only to himself before striding towards you. His fingers found your hips as he thrust you against the door.

His lips were on yours before your back found the solid wood behind you.

You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up towards him, trying to bring your body as close to his own as possible. You needed every gap between you gone. You wanted to feel the heat of him even on this sticky summer evening.

"What am I doing?" Declan broke away and dropped to his knees, placing a firm hand on the middle of your stomach to hold you flush against the door.

There was a deep hunger in his eyes as he lifted one of your thighs up onto his shoulder, never breaking his gaze from your face to almost check if what he was doing was allowed.

You threw your head up, trying to find the air he had stolen from you, one hand finding a grip within his dark curls as your welcome reply.

"Please." You whispered.

Declan moved your panties to the side, a finger running over your folds, sending fire against your skin before he closed his mouth around you.

You let your eyes roll back as his tongue darted across your clit. Electricity filled your body with every moment of contact.

You felt his fingers circle lightly around your entrance. Your hand jumped from his thick curls to tightly grip the back of his own that pushed against your stomach. His grip on you felt as if it were all that was holding you up.

"You want me this badly?" Declan asked with a mixture of teasing and shock. The wetness of your heat coated the tip of his fingers and glistened on the dark hairs of his moustache.

"I've imagined this so many times." You admit honestly.

"I best live up to your expectations then." Declan inserted a finger inside of you, causing a sharp gasp to escape your lips, which made Declan's cock twitch inside his boxer shorts. "Shhhh"

You placed your free hand over your mouth to which Declan smiled a toothy grin at you.

"Good girl" he purred.

Declan rose to his feet as he placed another finger inside of you, thrusting them in and out of you in a painfully slow motion that only made you ache for more.

Declan turned the lock on his door with his other hand before pulling himself away from you completely.

You pouted at the lack of contact to which he tutted.

"So impatient." He uttered as he undid his belt, pulling it from its loops and then kicking his trousers down.

Your eyes fell on the large member pressed against his underwear. The tip seeping precum through the material in a dark stain.

"Go to my desk." Declan ordered.

You almost ran over, Declan caught you by the waist and lifted you up onto it. Spreading your legs with his knee.

"Are you sure you want this?" Declan stripped himself of his shirt, revealing his chest covered with dark thick hair that you reached out to touch. This didn't feel real.

"More than anything." The words were so quiet but Declan seemed to hear them as he freed himself from his underwear.

You reached behind and unclasped your bra.

"Jesus..." He took a handful of your breast, squeezing you firmly as he stroked his member.

"Declan, please." You couldn't wait any longer. The ache pained you.

Declan didn't need to be told twice.

He tore your underwear down your legs and pressed his tip slowly into you.

You bit down on your lip hard to stop yourself from making any noise.

"Holy fuck..." Declan failed at being quiet. You were so tight against him he felt he could've finished inside of you within minutes.

You reached forward and hooked a grip behind his neck, encouraging him deeper inside of you.

"Fuck me please." you pleaded, trying to move your own hips to create some friction.

Declan took the hint and began thrusting into you quickly. His fingers almost bruising your skin as he held you steady on the desk.

The rattle of the belongings on the desk seemed to echo around the room alongside the slapping of skin.

Declan lifted you up, still inside of you and gently placed you down on the floor.

He hovered above you, just like he had once before, watching your face twist in pleasure as he fucked you.

You squeezed his shoulders, your nails leaving an impression whilst he brought you closer to your climax. You pressed your hips up into his creating hot friction against your clitoris, making you throb inside.

"Declan..." You tried to let him know; still trying to whisper to stay quiet.

"Cum for me, princess." Declan smirked, his stare never faltering as he rode you through to your end. He could feel you tighten around him only encouraging him to fuck you harder and deeper.

You bit down on your hand as your climax convulsed through you. Your body shaking in between Declan and the floor.

Declan moved you both effortlessly, lying on his back with you sat on top of him.

You leant ever so slightly forward, steadying yourself with your hand stretched out against his chest.

You smiled wickedly at him as you rolled your hips.

You felt exhausted by your own finish but knew you wanted to see the older man in the same state.

"That's a good girl." Declan held onto your hips, helping you pick up your pace.

His lips parted as he watched you ride him, sweat dripping down your skin mixing with his own as his dick twitched inside of you.

"Fuck (Y/n)." Declan cursed.

You shifted your hand to his neck, Declan almost laughed, flipping you again so that he was behind you. Both of you on your knees as he held you against his chest, his hand wrapped firmly around your neck with his opposite arm securely around your middle.

The sensation was almost unbearable as his thick member pumped in and out of you at such speed.

"You think you want to be a bad girl?" Declan hissed in your ear.

You could only shake your head.

"Bad girls get punished." Declan bit hard down on your shoulder and you fought to not cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

"You're mine now." Declan's own proclamation brought himself to his own climax. He pulled out, spilling his seed over his own thighs to avoid finishing inside of you much to your own disappointment.

"I know you wanted that inside of you like the dirty girl you are." Declan teased you as he gave your throat one final soft squeeze.

You fell against him, both trying to catch your breath.

"Declan?" A voice and a knock came at the door.

"Shit..." The realisation of what had just happened and where it just happened hit Declan like a cricket bat to the face.

"I'll be out in a mo." Declan scrambled for his underwear and you did the same.

"Hurry up! I know that's where you're hiding the good stuff!" Bas' voice was more evident now and whilst he was definitely talking about the whiskey. The both of you couldn't help but laugh.

[purinfelix]

you're here, that's the thing ˚⟡˖ ࣪ - franco colapinto

summary: your boyfriend tries his best to make your schedules, as a racer and student, work - even when miles apart w/c: 900

a/n: it's finals season for me and i needed to write something self-indulgent as a break from cramming forgive me 🙏

Being a full-time student was one thing, but being a full-time student in a relationship with an extremely clingy boyfriend, who also happened to be travelling the world to race in Formula One, was a whole other challenge.

You and Franco had had some time to adjust to a long-distance relationship since you started dating, having such different lives, and managed to make it work for the most part. But now, with him having to wholly commit to his racing and finals season rolling around for you, it put a strain on your relationship that neither of you was ready for.

It was a strange paradox - the less free time you had outside of classes and studying, the less you were able to spend talking to him, and the more you wanted just to drop everything and fly to where he was. Your morning texts and voice message updates stopped being enough, and before you knew it you struggled to go longer than an hour studying without sending your boyfriend a message to whine and complain.

You were fully aware of how immature and irresponsible this was, but this awareness did little to stop you. And it didn't exactly help that Franco seemed to share the same sentiment, telling you again and again how hard it was for him as well, how racing seemed almost impossible without you there to cheer him on. It hurt, but the two of you just had to do everything you could to get through it - for you to focus on your studies and for him to try his best at racing.

All this came to a head one Sunday though, the afternoon before one of your final exams and - because of the time difference - the night before Franco's next race. Sitting in your dorm alone, surrounded by piles of textbooks, notes and scattered pens you felt a sudden jolt of vulnerability and before you knew it you were reaching for your phone.

"Can you call?" you typed quickly to your boyfriend, your eyes lighting up upon seeing the three dots begin moving almost instantly.

"My gosh, I was just going to ask you the same thing," he replied, and before you knew it your phone was springing to life with a call from him. Clicking accept, you couldn't help but smile widely at the sight of his face.

"Hi," you say, almost shyly.

"Hi baby, how are you?"

"Good," you pause, "stressed."

He nods understandingly, "You're holding up okay, hm? Taking care of yourself?"

"Of course, Franco," you laugh at his almost motherly concern, "and you?"

"Nervous, of course."

"Well, that makes two of us." You pause after speaking, for some reason this call is turning out less enjoyable and more awkward than you hoped.

"I'm sorry, I'm just really tired," you hear your boyfriend say and when you look up you can definitely see it, his eyelids half closing over deep, dark circles under them.

"Do you want to sleep? I have to study anyways."

You watch as he chews his bottom lip, thinking of what to say though once he finally talks his voice is small, almost like a confession. "But I wanted to talk to you."

"We are talking Franco, and we can talk tomorrow once you rest."

This doesn't seem to quell his worries though, his brows still knitted in thought. "I just feel so useless knowing that you're struggling and stressed and I can't even keep you company like I normally do."

You nod sympathetically until an idea pops into your head. "We can keep the call on, carry me over to your bed - you'll sleep and I'll study."

Even through the fatigue pulling him down, Franco nods enthusiastically, doing as you say. You watch him sink into the plush white bedsheets of whatever hotel he's in, and whilst you feel a little jealous at his ability to rest right now, you turn back to your desk and start pulling out your notes.

"You'll be okay," you hear him mumble.

"What do you mean?"

"With your exams," he smiles sleepily, eyes flitting as he watches you pick up your highlighters and pens, "you're the smartest person I know."

"I don't know how much that's saying, you didn't even finish high school baby."

"Hey! I was trying to be nice," he says, feigning offence though there's a soft smile across his face.

"You're right, I'm sorry," you laugh, "you'll be okay as well, with your race tomorrow."

"I hope so."

"I know so."

"I wish you were here," he sighs, looking at you earnestly and all you can do is give him a nod in agreement.

"But for now," you wave your pen to hint at the fact that you need to get back to cramming and he seems to get the hint.

"Right, right, you won't even know I'm here," he assures you.

And despite that, the entire night passes without you once forgetting it. Not that he's distracting or anything, in fact he falls asleep mere minutes after telling you that - leaving you to work peacefully for the rest of the night. Instead, his presence, even as he sleeps, even through a screen and halfway across the world, is enough. You find yourself smiling as you study because maybe having a long-distance boyfriend, even one as clingy as Franco, has been a blessing in disguise all this time.

[femmeroll]

hiii, could you write something about sevika corrupting a sweet church girl?

your blog is really cute btw <3

omg omg omg !!! i’ve been dying to write something like this, thank you for the request!!

sevika x fem reader

cw: religion, corruption, implied age gap, fingering, semi-public.

you’re a good girl. made good grades in school, good daughter, good sister, kind person. you never miss a sunday service. and if you must, you’ll be at the church for service on monday afternoon. you spend your life being pure, avoiding sin wherever it may rear its devilish head.

no pride or greed or lust. just simple, sweet purity.

that is, until you meet that lady.

every day on your walk home from mass you see her. maybe mid forties, dark hair, and easily six feet tall. she stands outside the deli every morning at 11:45 on the dot for her smoke break.

and every sunday morning she says hello, or good morning, or asks how ‘sunday school’ is going. it’s strange. you always give her a smile, say hello back, but she seems so condescending. like every word she says to you is secretly making fun of you.

you don’t really know her either, which is weird. it’s a small town, everyone knows each other. not…her thought. she’s just an impossibly rude person you see on sundays that causes you to remember the jesus was always kind to strangers.

it’s a cold january morning, sidewalks slick with ice. like clockwork, that woman is standing outside the deli with her cigar.

“careful, virgin mary. don’t want you slippin’ out here.”

okay, rude.

“i’m okay, no need to worry,” you respond, stopping in your tracks in front of her. the gaze she holds on you is almost uncomfortable. she’s staring down at you like she’ll burst out laughing at any moment. like the mere idea of you is just hilarious to her.

“sevika, by the way. my name.”

oh. sevika. okay.

“y/n. it’s nice to properly meet you. i’ve never seen you around outside of…this.”

“i’m not very social” she responds.

you smile. you certainly know the best way for people to find community in town.

“well, there’s a service on mon-”

she cuts you off with a scoff. “not interested. not the place for me.”

“why not?”

sevika leans closer, letting her lips fall near your ears.

“i like smoking, drinking, cursing, fucking. it’s not the place for me, princess.”

you clutch the cross around your neck with a gasp. this is wrong on so many levels. sinful, disgusting, unnatural…and yet you feel your face getting impossibly redder.

sevika stomps out her cigarette. “see you next sunday, princess.”

whether you like it or not, sevika evokes quite a bit of lust in you. her smirk, her piercing grey eyes, her muscles that stretch the fabric of her impossibly tight tshirt…you can’t help it. the forbidden fruit is strong. you suppose it’s all a part of the lord’s plan. send you a taste of homosexual temptation and watch you be a true follower.

you aren’t though.

you entertain her flirting, all her lustful stares, and your church dresses start to come above the knee just to give her something to look at. you don’t know why you like this so much. it’s gross. it’s wrong. it’s against god’s wishes.

but jesus christ, one look from sevika and that all goes out the window. every good christian moral, everything you’ve known to be true disappears the second sevika locks eyes with you.

after a monday evening service, you take your weekly stroll home. it’s dinner time, and sevika is working.

you open the door to the deli, seeing sevika behind the counter. you watch silently as she meticulously rearranges the meats on display.

“i could use some dinner, sevika” you say and she perks up, brief shock replaced with her signature smirk.

“princess. c’mon back, i’ll make you whatever sandwich you want.”

and she does. you’re sitting on a wooden stool in the back of the deli, making small talk. sevika’s presence feels strangely right, like these little moments were made to happen. maybe this was the lord’s plan after all.

sevika steps closer, towering over you.

“you have sauce on your lips. messy eater, huh princess?”

she takes her calloused thumb and wipes the sauce away, eyes never leaving yours. the air feels thicker and your face feels hotter. and without skipping a beat, your lips on on sevika’s.

she stammers a bit in shock, then immediately gaining back control. she wraps her hand around the back of your neck to pull you in deeper. you can feel her smirking against you, prying your lips apart and exploring the inside of your mouth with her tongue.

her lips feel like the missing piece of a puzzle, perfectly slotting against yours in a dance of passion and affection. she’s calculated with the way she kisses, making sure you feel every bit of her tongue gliding against your mouth.

“sevika-” you pant, pulling away. “we shouldn’t, i-it’s not right.”

“shush, princess,” she growls, “gods not watching right now.”

and maybe he’s not. so fuck it. you nod and let sevika pull your blouse off, pushing her head into your chest. she litters your chest in bites, reveling in the sweet moans you let out.

her hands make their way under your skirt, silently asking for permission to pull your slick panties down.

all you can do is nod, desperate and utterly dumb for her touch.

“so soft, princess…” she moans, “so wet. is that all for me?”

another nod.

“you gonna be a good girl?”

another nod.

sevika pulls hand away with an evil grin. “words. or you aren’t getting shit from me.”

“yes, it’s all for you. yes, i’ll be good. please hurry before i remember that i’m a woman of god and stop,” you groan.

her ring finger circles your swollen clit, spreading your folds and rubbing you down to your needy hole. one of her thick fingers is enough to stretch you out, walls tightening around her as she slowly moves in and out of your cunt.

“tight fuckin’ pussy…so pure and innocent, huh? just a good little church girl who likes other women fucking her greedy cunt?”

she chuckles darkly at herself, and at the way you get even tighter at her mean words. so humiliating, so blasphemous, so unholy. and yet every deep, deliberate thrust has you closer and closer to cumming.

“sevika,” you whimper, “i can’t hold it, please.”

“is that right?” she teases.

“you can cum, baby. but make sure to repent after.”

[themultifanshipper]

i will pay GOOD MONEY to read this bro

https://www.tumblr.com/themultifanshipper/756785500347580416/4-way-eiffel-tower

You hadn't been in the paddock for several months, being too busy with your career, and the drivers were starting to get antsy about your return.

But who would be good enough to have a go at you was anybody's guess as the Hungarian Grand Prix weekend got underway.

Warnings: Kinda paddock bunny vibes, but reader more in control, smut, brief stuff with Lando and Charles, slightly creepy/predatory behaviour (but everything is consensual), hand job, oral, PinV, PinA, anal, like 3 lines of dirty talk, aftercare, eeeeh idk what else

Part 1 of One of The Boys

Max was the first to spot you on Friday morning, you were chatting with some of the formula 3 drivers who were getting ready for their practice session.

He wrapped you in a big hug from behind and lifted you up.

“I know it's been a while but these guys are a bit young for you aren't they?” he said teasingly and you slapped his arm, giggling as he put you down.

“Don’t worry, I already have my hands full with you lot. They'll get their turn if they get into formula 1”

You walked with him on his way towards the redbull hospitality.

“Yeah?” he smirked “Speaking of, what's my prize going to be when I inevitably win on Sunday?”

You laughed at him.

“Given how your car's been performing lately I'm not sure your cockiness is justified”

He gasped and put a hand on his chest in mock offense.

“How dare you doubt my talents?”

“It's not 2023 anymore Max, you can't have me all to yourself. You need to learn to share…” you smiled at him devilishly “And for your information, I won't be giving a prize to the winner anyway, so it's anyone's game”

You winked conspiratorially and sauntered off leaving Max on his own to wonder what on earth you meant by that.

The next person you saw was Lando, that very afternoon. And word had obviously traveled fast.

“A little birdy told me you weren't interested in podium sitters this weekend…” he hooked his arm over your shoulder and pressed a kiss to you cheek in greeting “So what's a man gotta do around here to get you to himself?”

He deepened his voice seductively , but it just served to make you laugh at him, given the number of times you'd heard high pitched whines come out of his mouth during your… celebratory activities.

“Well, hello to you too Lando, how was your week?” you teased and he almost looked guilty for a second, before grinning and hugging you tight.

“I missed you in Miami, so I think you owe me something for my first win, no?” he smirked and walked you over to a secluded corner between two garages.

You rolled your eyes at him, amused by his impatience.

He crowded you against the wall and your hands went to pull him closer by his belt loops, so his hips were flush against yours. He gasped and his hips bucked involuntarily at the action.

You laughed “Come here you horndog” and he crashed his lips to yours in a desperate, messy kiss. His lips came to part yours immediately. He hadn't tasted you for so long it took him seconds to get hard.

Your hand made it inside his pants and he whined and rutted against your hand as his head went to the crook of your neck. He was breathing hard and you could almost feel him trembling in your hold.

This was going to be the quickest handjob of your life.

And he never did manage to ask about Sunday's prize.

…

A few hours later, in the car park, you were cornered by none other than Charles Leclerc.

“Hello” He murmured in your ear and you jumped at the sudden presence behind you.

You turned around quickly and he pressed you against your car to hug you.

“Hello Charles, how are you?” you said while Charles tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Horny” he answered immediately with a smile.

You laughed and he put his hands either side of you, caging you in.

“I can wait until I win on Sunday of course, but I've been told you have something else in mind”

He raised an eyebrow in question and you sighed.

“I'm not telling you what it is Charles”

He nodded solemnly “In that case…” he swiftly opened the back door of your car and pushed you inside, climbed in and closed it behind him.

“I think you owe me a little something for my Home win in Monaco, don't you think?” He wiggled his eyebrows but you just scoffed. “Come on princess, I want to taste you. It's been so long” he whined.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. Well if you weren't going to be doing any work… might as well enjoy a treat for once.

You smirked at him and he grinned, spreading your legs and lifting your dress…

This was going to be a long weekend.

You managed to mostly avoid the drivers’ advances on Saturday, them being pretty busy with prep and qualifying and sticking around the feeder series drivers.

You hadn't even checked the group chat you'd been added to, you assumed it would just be full of questions about Sunday so you steered clear. Your plans would be revealed soon enough.

Sunday morning you arrived bright and early, catching Carlos on your way in and told him to spread the word with the others:

To shake things up a bit, and to celebrate you returning from your lengthy leave of absence, you would be rewarding the top 3 fastest laps of the race, regardless of the placement in the standings.

As you watched the race unfold you were getting more and more excited. The fastest laps were getting passed around like a football, and you were looking forward to potentially getting to have some fresh blood.

And you were right. The fresh blood came in the form of Logan Sargeant. You hadn't been able to spend a night with him yet, him never having gotten a podium.

After the race you sent a message in the group chat:

‘Congratulations to George, Logan and Max! (And Oscar of course 😘)

The three of you are welcome to stop by my hotel room (306 at the hilton, Lando don't you dare) and you need to decide between yourselves about the order etc etc… I'll be waiting ;)’

.

After a quick shower and a quick meal you lay on your bed and checked your messages.

There was just one from George.

‘we'll be there at 7:30’

Oh…

They were all coming together. (pun intended)

Interesting…

You imagined what it would be like. Would they take turns with you? George or Max showing Logan how to handle you. Fucking you into the mattress while he sat in the chair and watched, waiting for his turn.

Or maybe two of them would fill you up while the other ran his hands and mouth all over your body.

Would any of them be into touching each other? You knew Max and George were closer than what they revealed to the public, and that they had hooked up, but would you get to see it?

You imagined what Logan could be like… Was he inexperienced? Did he fuck like a pro?

All these questions were swirling around your mind when a knock at the door interrupted you. A spark of arousal shot through you and you hurried to go and open it.

Max was leaning against the frame, George stood behind him, smirking, and Logan was leaning against the opposite wall, looking cool as a cucumber as his eyes roamed your figure.

“Come on in boys” you said cheerfully, stepping aside to let them through before closing the door and sitting yourself on the bed in front of them.

“So what’s the plan, Max?” you said mischievously “You going to show these guys how it's done? Or is George going to come and claim his prize for Austria?”

George chuckled.

“Actually, we're going to fill you up.”

You frowned at him in question. “Fill me up?”

“You've got 3 holes for a reason, right?”

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped.

“Fuck, okay…”

You found yourself bent over the bed, Max's mouth on your cunt and his fingers in your ass, stretching you out for him.

George's cock was in your mouth, and your hand was wrapped around Logan, pumping him at a leisurely pace.

Once you had come from Max's expert fingers and mouth, he deemed you ready and you were repositioned to their liking.

You straddled Logan, Max behind you, and George in front of you.

Pulling Logan into a sloppy kiss, you sank down on him slowly. Your heat enveloped him and he moaned into your mouth as you ground your hips down on him.

You felt Max's presence behind you and he pushed you and Logan to lay down. He positioned himself at your entrance and stroked your flesh tenderly.

“You ready, baby?”

You nodded and he wasted no time pushing the tip in.

You moaned, he was pretty big, and Logan was already filling you up nicely.

He pushed in slowly, and with every inch your moans increased in pitch.

Logan could feel you fluttering around him and it was driving him crazy, choosing to distract himself, and you, by sucking marks into your neck.

Once Max was fully inside, George came forward and stroked your cheek.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

You felt so full you didn't quite know how to respond, overwhelmed by the feeling of the two men inside you.

But when they started moving it was a whole different ball park.

The drag of two cocks against your walls was sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body, it was indescribable.

They didn't have the same rhythm so sometimes one pushed in while the other dragged out, but when both of them pushed in together you swore loudly as they nudged every single one of your sweet spots.

George wrapped a hand in your hair and you looked up at him, already fucked out of your mind.

“Mind if I use your mouth, love?”

He asked with a sweet smile.

You grinned at him and stuck your tongue out.

“Good girl”

Being used by 3 of the fittest men on the planet was exhausting, but incredibly rewarding, as you felt your orgasm creep up on you.

You moaned around George and he pulled out to let you breathe.

Max piped up.

“You getting close, baby?”

You whined out a yes before grabbing George's hips and shoving your mouth back on him, the weight of his cock a grounding presence to counter the white hot pleasure coursing through your body.

“Good, because we're close too, we're going to fill you up. Right guys?”

George hummed and stroked your tear stained cheeks. “And you're going to be a good girl and swallow it all, yes?”

You hummed around him, and then Logan spoke for the first time since he'd walked in the room.

“Gonna fill this sweet pussy full of my cum, baby. You like being full of cum? You like being used like a slut by your friends?”

The shock of his voice in your ear sent a shockwave through you and you came on the spot, creaming around Logan and spasming around Max. They both came inside you with a groan after a couple of rough thrusts and stayed there while you came down.

George wasn't far behind and you swallowed all of him as his come filled your mouth.

The aftercare was amazing. George and Logan accompanied you in the shower, one washing your hair while the other scrubbed your body clean of sweat and leaked come.

Max changed the sheets (he called room service for clean ones) and then went in the shower once you were done.

You went to sleep with the three of them huddled around you, their hands wandering over your flesh affectionately.

You always took care of your boys, and they always took care of you.

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 8

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.  WC: 5.5k TW: I will put them below the cut for those who want to avoid spoilers. This is more of an original character, there have been some descriptions of reader throughout the series. A/N: How can I make a note when I have words?! I'm just so grateful for how many people have fallen in love with this story this year. It's crazy to me that I posted my first fan pic on December 23rd 2023, expecting about 3 people to see it and waking up to 100's of notifications. 2024 has literally been whirlwind, I've made so many wonderful ladies here and have grown more and more confident in my writing abilities. Thank you @lotusbxtch for being my forever beta for this series (probably an unhealthy crutch, but so be it haha). Thank you @for-a-longlongtime for letting me bounce ideas off of you and giving me a new insight to how sweet girl or Joel would think. @mermaidgirl30, @alltheirdamn and @littlevenicebitch69, what would I do if I couldn't scream about this story with you?! Ok eww, I'm done being sappy. Enjoy! Dividers and headers by @saradika-graphics

My Masterlist || Series Masterlist

TW: use of sex toys (vibrator and butt plug)

You

When you walked into your small apartment on Sunday, Odette was wrapped up in a blanket watching TV. She looked you up and down with a knowing smirk. It was pretty obvious based on the way Joel’s sweats and hoodie hung off your body that you were with a man all weekend. So, after she agreed to keep it between the two of you, you told her absolutely everything. It was freeing to finally be able to discuss Joel with one of your friends. The two of you spent almost six hours going over every detail of the last few weeks, and after ordering pizza and splitting a bottle of rosé, you had all the validation you needed. He loves you. And you love him, too. 

As the weekend rolls into the week, you still have not come down from your happy, little Joel Miller-shaped cloud. There’s not a single doubt in your mind that he is it. You have never let your walls down with someone like you have with him. It was always easier to just do it on your own; you could always count on yourself.  For the first time in your life, you can confidently say that you’re ready to let that go. It’s time for you to let someone take care of you for once. When he texts you on Monday to make plans for the following day, you decide that you’re going to tell him how you feel.

When Tuesday finally comes around, you practically skip up to his house. You have a duffle bag of items in one hand: your outfit for this evening, make up, and a change of clothes in case you spend the night. Wearing his clothing home was fun and all, but you won’t be doing any sort of walks of shame again. Clasped tightly your other hand is your company-provided caddy full of cleaning supplies. Just as you’re about to place the supplies on the front step, the large front door opens.

“Hi, Freckles,” Joel's voice coats every inch of your skin in warm honey. He shines an absolutely knee-weakening smile down at you. As per his usual JMKink attire, he’s in perfectly fitted black dress pants, expensive looking black dress shoes, and a pressed, crisp white dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled to his elbows and your mouth waters at the way his bare forearms look.  

“Hi,” you beam up at him, not holding back your ear-to-ear grin as you glow under his attention. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here!”

“I have to leave soon, but I have something for you.” He steps out onto the front steps and grabs everything from you before you follow him inside. You change into the white keds that Jamie gave you on your first day at Maid Discreetly before heading towards where he’s standing in the kitchen. There are three boxes on the kitchen island; two small black ones and one white one that you recognize immediately. He pushes that one towards you first. 

“This is your new iPhone,” he says with a wink and you feel your cheeks flush.

“Thank you,” you say shyly.

He shakes his head, “No, thank you for not fighting me on this. That cracked screen...”

“I know,” you say, raising a hand to stop him. You deepen your voice, “It’s a hazard, sweet girl.”

He laughs like he did that night at the Shibari class, deep and from his gut; it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard and your heart swells at the possibility of getting to hear that laugh for the rest of your life. “Exactly. These other boxes…well, they’re for you, but also for me.”

You raise your eyebrows curiously as he slides the smaller of the two black boxes across the smooth marble of the island. His bottom lip slips between his teeth as you pull the top off of the first box. Sitting on a bed of white tissue paper is a small metal plug with a pink heart-shaped diamond on the end. 

“Mister Miller! Scandalous!” You gasp, feigning shock and surprise.

He laughs again as he asks, “Is that ok?”

“Very much so,” you respond with a smile before opening the next box, which is slightly bigger than the last. A black, U shaped piece of silicone sits in the box, along with a small plastic rectangle that looks similar to a key fob. “What’s this?”

“That, my sweet girl, is a remote vibrator. I was thinking that maybe you could wear both of those while you clean my house today. I can control that with the remote from a close distance or from my phone anywhere in the world.” 

Every hair on your body stands on end as your clit throbs in excitement. “Yes, I would really, really like to do that!”

“Good girl,” he says with a wink, holding a hand out to you. His fingers link with yours and just the slightest touch from him sends sparks up your wrist and straight to your racing heart. He grabs your new toys and leads you up the stairs. Your giggle is laced with arousal when you come to a stop in his enormous ensuite. After placing the toys on the counter he pulls you in, his free hand cupping the back of your neck before he slams his lips into yours. He kisses you hungrily, and you meet his energy, kissing him back as if you’re drunk with passion. His teeth nip your bottom lip as he pulls away. You’re so insanely, maddeningly in love with this man that you almost forget how to stand as he steps back.

“Take off your pants, sweet girl.”

You do as he says, eagerly unbuttoning your company issued black dress pants before sliding them down your legs. He stops you before you remove your thong, breathing out a heady ‘fuck’ before hooking his thumbs through the bright pink lacy waist band and sliding them down your legs. 

“Put your hands on the vanity and bend over for me,” he instructs with bated breath. He watches your reflection in the mirror, looking right into your soul as always, as you follow his instructions.  

You smile lovingly at him, clocking the way his throat works as he swallows hard at the sight of you bending at the waist, pushing your ass out for him. “Fuck, how did I get so lucky? All of this, just for me?”

“Just you, Joel,” you breathe, slipping your bottom lip between your teeth. 

He slides open a drawer and takes out two small bottles before turning on the water. He pops the top of one bottle, using the contents to wash both toys, then steps back behind you with the second bottle in and the plug in his hands. A warm laugh leaves your lips, “Always so prepared, Mister Miller.”

“With a pretty little thing like you in my life, I better be.” He clicks the top of the lube open as he continues, “Ready? I’ll go slow.”

“Mm-hm, I’ll tell you if it’s too much,” you coo, your body thrumming with the anticipation of his touch. 

“I know you will. No safeword right now, okay? Just say stop, and I will.” He spreads the lube around your tight ring of muscle with his thumb. Every muscle in your body goes slack under his attention and you sigh as your lashes flutter against your cheeks. “Good girl, just relax for me.”

After a few minutes of teasing you with the pad of his thumb he switches to the plug. The cold metal makes you jump. He reassures you by squeezing your hip as he murmurs, “You’re ok, baby.”

He swirls it gently at first, slowly applying more and more pressure before it slips in on its own and you whimper at the feeling. “Does that feel okay, sweet girl?”

“Mmm, yes,” you smile at his reflection in front of you. The amber glow of the LED lighting behind the mirror accentuates the honey flecks in his eyes. Everything about the way he’s looking at you feels overwhelming. It’s like when you first step foot into a hot tub on a cold winter's night. The sting of the swirling water is almost too hot as you sink further in. For a second you consider getting out, but then every single cell in your body adjusts and you can’t imagine not being wrapped in that heat.

“Now this one,” he says, holding up the black u-shaped vibrator. He adds a bit of lube and then guides your hips further back with one hand before kneeling. Your pussy clenches against nothing as you glance over your shoulder seeing him on his knees behind you. He practically whimpers, “God, Freckles, this pussy. She’s so gorgeous.”

A shy smile turns your lips upward. Joel starts to work the toy inside of you and you gasp out a moan. He moves the bulbous head of the toy back and forth until it slips in on its own accord, just like the plug did. Your breathing quickens at the pressure on your g-spot and clit; the toy isn’t even on yet and it already feels so good. Joel’s lips sponge against the globes of your ass, then your hip as he stands. “Are you ok, sweet girl?”

“Yes, Mister Miller,” you respond, your breath catching in your throat as you stand. 

“Good. Now put your clothes back on and get to work.”

Before you can bend to pick up your discarded clothing, he pulls you into his arms and brings his lips to yours. The kiss is so soft that it steals your breath, and you almost blurt your feelings for him right then and there. He keeps one arm wrapped tightly around your waist while the other snakes up your body until his large palm cups the side of your face. This kiss, compared to the one from earlier, is different in every way. Where that one was rough and passionate, this one is gentle and almost lazy; a content moan rumbles from his chest. Before pulling away, his warm tongue swipes sweetly across yours. 

 “See you later, honey,” he whispers, then kisses your forehead and walks away.

Honey, he called me honey. Everything about the last few seconds feels so goddamn domestic, and your potential life five years from now flashes through your mind. 

You're standing in this bathroom, getting ready to head to the law firm you work at. Joel, no longer just your dom but also now your new husband, puts a fresh latte on the counter for you, then helps you with the clasp of your necklace before kissing that sensitive spot behind your ear. ‘See you later, honey’.

The rev of Joel’s Jag pulling out of the garage snaps you out of your daydream. You get dressed and walk back downstairs while opening the Maid Discreetly app. To your surprise, cleaning Joel’s office isn’t the first task. Instead, you’ve been asked to wipe down the kitchen, then vacuum the main floor, stairs and upstairs rooms, and finish off by dusting his bedroom. All of it seems very doable in the next four hours, and just when you think you’ll probably be done early and have time to properly get ready for your night out, Mister Miller reminds you that he has the remote to a very distracting detonator. 

The first few times the vibrator comes on it’s subtle, just a light buzzing against your clit. It’s enjoyable, almost like a tickling massage, but after almost an hour and half of being gently teased at random you can feel your frustrations start to reach a boiling point.

You: Mister Miller, you’re torturing me Joel: Oh, sweet girl. We’ve only just begun. You: *pouts* Joel: That’s not going to get you what you want. Be a good girl and get back to work. I have a meeting. 

You check off the kitchen and main floor tasks and then move to the stairs. You decide to start at the top, sitting on the stair below it and scoot down to save your back. You’re also hoping that the pressure on the toy will make it strong enough that you can finally come. Joel turns the vibrator on again and you whine out in frustration when your plan fails. The slight hum against your clit stops and you mutter something about Joel being a sadistic bastard under your breath and continue your backwards ride down the stairs. As you reach the halfway point the vibrator comes to life at an intensity so strong that you drop the hose of the vacuum and dig your nails into the plush carpet of the stair tread. 

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, squeezeing your legs together as he brings you right to the edge. Your orgasm builds quickly, and just as it’s about to take you, the vibrations stop. 

Joel: You better not have come You: Please, Mister Miller. I was so close Joel: Not yet, babygirl  

Joel continues this throughout the afternoon. Every ten minutes or so, the black u-shaped torture device inside of you comes to life; always at different intensities and for varying times. 

Torture device might be a bit strong, the discarded box of feelings says from the back of your mind. We both know you’re enjoying it. You don’t know when she decided to come back, but at least she’s keeping you honest. 

It’s been about three hours by the time you get to your last task of the day. The vibrator buzzes gently as you grab a duster and head into Joel's bedroom. You bite back a smile seeing his bed, the white fluffy sheets neatly tucked in. You can’t help but run your fingers across the soft duvet, remembering how it felt against your skin, remembering how he felt above, behind, below and beside your naked body.

Joel: You doing ok? Do you need to use your safeword? You: I’m okay, Mister Miller. I REALLY need to come, but this is the best day I’ve ever had at work.

When 3:30pm hits, you’ve finished everything in the app, and are so wound up from being teased that you’re fighting from taking the vibrator out and making yourself come. Everytime the vibrator comes on, you break out in goosebumps, the hair on your body standing on end, but when he turns it off, your cheeks flush in frustration and a wave of heat rolls through you. You know Joel will take care of you when he gets home and sees how badly you need it. He talks a big game, but you see the way he folds when you beg. 

Joel: I’ll be home in about 40 minutes, Tommy won’t shut up about concrete. You: I need to come so badly, Mister Miller. I’m throbbing, please!  Joel: Soon. Just breathe, sweet girl. You can do this. 

You need to distract yourself, and you know Joel’s office usually gets pretty dusty, so even though it’s not on your list, you grab your cleaning supplies and slowly open the door. It’s as it usually is: small piles of papers on the desk and a few things out of place on the book shelf. You put the books back and dust the shelves, then run the duster over the blinds before cleaning the window.

Joel: Goddamn, he’s still going on about fucking concrete. How’s my baby doin? You: Horny, I’m trying to distract myself

The vibrator comes to life at the lowest setting. Once again, it’s not enough to make you come, just enough to tease and taunt. You could cry at the frustration of it. 

You: That’s not helping, Mister Miller Joel: What’s not? You: Hilarious. Please? Joel: Nope. I love watching you come, hearing the whiny little gasps you make, so not until later

You move towards the desk. Just as you reach to tidy the stack of papers, the vibrations against your clit hit at an intensity you haven’t felt yet today. You fall forward, gasping for breath, as the papers scatter to the floor. You’re about to fall into the pleasure, feel those waves of nirvana that you so desperately need when the vibrator turns off and you’re left with nothing. You bite back an agitated yell. 

Joel: See you in less than half an hour, sweet girl. You better not have come.  You: I didn’t. I promise. 

You’ve never read anything on Joel’s desk before, but you notice a familiar emblem on the first piece of paper you pick up. It’s a short, handwritten note, and as your eyes scan the few sentences, your heart leaps into your throat as your stomach simultaneously falls to the floor. You read through it once and then twice, trying to make sense of the information in front of you. After blinking hard a few times, you read it again. 

You feel like you’re being ripped in two. 

Joel, Thank you for your generous (and anonymous) donation to the law library. I’ll be sure to find her application and review it myself. See you at the club's anniversary party in a few weeks.

You flip the note over and back again, reading it through one last time. It’s not signed by anyone, just black ink on eggshell white, the University of Austin letterhead at the top. The letter and the room start to spin. You stumble towards his desk chair and breathe through the wave of nausea that hits you; your mind reels at what you’ve just learned. Anger, disbelief and sadness all push against your prefrontal cortex, fighting to be the winning emotion. You want it to be anger – anger is so much easier to deal with. Yelling and telling Joel to fuck off would make you feel so much better, but overwhelming sadness and disappointment ultimately become the victors. 

He doesn’t believe in me.

The realization feels like knives along your skin. Everything he said about how you could do it, or that you’d get in…that was all bullshit. He paid for you to get in, and then – and this is the part that hurts the most – he made you believe that you did it all on your own. Your lungs feel like they’re filled with glass as you force yourself to take slow, controlled breaths. 

He doesn’t believe in me.

Tears prickle behind your eyes but you force them back. You will not cry, not when you’ve been through this before and came out stronger. Your parents didn’t believe in you, and you proved them wrong, graduating early and making it on your own in Texas for the last four years.

I can prove Joel wrong, too.

You shut your eyes tight. You don’t need him; you don’t need anyone. But if that’s true, why does his sexy smirk flash behind your eyelids? The glass moves from your lungs to your veins; everything hurts, and you scold yourself for letting him get this intertwined in you. 

Never again, you tell yourself. Stick to your plan. Law school. Get in with a good firm, pass the bar and become partner; then worry about a love life. 

You walk to his bedroom, removing the toys and cleaning them off before changing into the black leggings and beige crew neck sweater you brought. You gather your hair into a claw clip and head downstairs. With your bag by the door and the letter still clutched in your hand you lean back against the kitchen island and wait for Joel. 

He doesn’t believe in me. 

Joel

The drive home feels like it takes forever; granted, Tommy talking about fucking concrete for almost an hour felt longer. At dinner tonight, he’s going to explain from the beginning. He prepares himself for the worst, for your anger or hurt. He won’t be able to live with himself if he’s hurt you, but anger he can deal with. He knows it’s selfish, but you yelling at him over this would make him feel better. 

Finally, he turns into his neighborhood. The sight of your slightly rusty SUV parked on the street spreads a familiar warmth from his heart to his toes. Mine, he thinks to himself as he pulls into his garage. He knows you’re going to be so tightly wound from all the teasing you endured today, and he plans to very slowly unwind you before you go for dinner. The way you fall apart for him is so beautiful, and after almost four hours of being brought to the edge over and over again, he can’t wait to have your writhing and shaking with a simple flick of his tongue against your clit. But first, he’s going to kiss every inch of your skin while occasionally clicking the vibrator on at its lowest setting. He almost trips over your bag as he comes into the house, and when his eyes meet yours, he knows something is wrong.  

“Baby?” His voice cracks in concern at the look on your face. He mentally runs through the rolodex of facial expressions he’s seen from you, and he hates that he can’t place this one; it’s not anger or sadness, and it most definitely is not excitement or curiosity. Your soft lips are turned down in the corners, arms crossed and eyes soft. “What’s wrong?”

Your arms uncross and you hold out the letter he should have shredded weeks ago.

His stomach does a free fall. Disappointment. The look on your face is disappointment, and that is so much worse than anger or sadness. 

Fuck. 

You

Joel walks towards you with slow, measured steps while carding a nervous hand through his curls. You force yourself to continue breathing, fighting against the tears that threaten to appear. He takes the letter from you and rips it in half; you drop your eyes, watching as the two halves of paper flutter to the ground and then slide away from each other along the marble. You shake your head at the symbolism of it, hugging your arms tightly against your body again.

“I thought you believed in me,” you say, trying not to sound as gutted as you feel. 

“I do, sweet girl,” he says, stepping so close that his black leather dress shoes line up with your socked feet. You look up as he continues, “I swear I do. You - you got in on your own. Please, just let me explain.”

His eyes line with tears and moments that you overlooked over the last few weeks playback like a movie. The first day in this kitchen he said he knew the dean of admissions. The flash of anger when you went to the Shibari night and his response of “all of them?” when you said you didn’t get in. The way he insisted you open the letters before the anniversary party. He knew, he fucking knew all along that at least one university would accept you. Dread settles in your stomach, turning the shards of glass under your skin to icicles. Berkeley.

“Did you pay off Berkeley, too?”

“I didn’t pay anyone off.” He’s calm but firm in his response, which just seems to piss you off more. 

You roll your eyes, gesturing to the ripped paper on the floor and scoff. “Did you pay off Berkeley, Joel?”

The two of you stare at each other for a few heartbeats, and you don’t back down as more tears gather along his bottom lash line. He shakes his head in defeat, burying his hands in his pockets and breathing slowly a few times before whispering, “No.”

“Why would you do this to me? This could have ruined my entire career.” You try to keep your voice calm, but how dare he stand in front of you holding back tears. 

“I’m sorry, sweet girl. I wasn’t - I just…I’m sorry,” he flounders.

“Why, Joel?” Your eyes dance along his face. You aren’t sure what justification you're looking for or hoping for. The dream of staying here died the moment you picked up that note, but you can’t go to California without knowing why he did it. 

He opens his mouth, shaking his head slightly and then closes his mouth. He takes a deep breath through his nose, blinking away the tears. “Because I don’t want to lose you, Freckles. I should have told you, I was going to tell you tonight. That donation isn’t the reason you got in…you did that on your own. I just…well, I just sped up the process. And I’m so sorry you found out like this.”

You scoff again. “I thought my consent was the most important thing to you.”

His eyes widened in shock. “It is, sweet girl.”

“I didn’t ask you to meddle in my life, Joel. And I certainly didn’t ask you to speed along the process. What happens if I become a Supreme Court judge and someone finds out that you bribed a university to get me?” He goes to speak, but you raise a hand to stop him and continue. “And don’t tell me that you didn’t bribe anyone, because that’s exactly how this looks and you know it. You wouldn’t be looking at me like a guilty puppy if you thought what you did was right.”

His hands come to cup your face. The warm coffee eyes that usually dance rhythmically around your face are replaced by shifting dark glass beads laced with fear and loss. The warmth you normally feel when he touches you is gone. His eyes flick to your lips and then back to your eyes before he speaks. 

“Freckles, I lov-”

Your still raised hand covers his mouth, clamping tightly to his face to stop him. 

“Please don’t,” you whisper, swallowing the lump in your throat and keeping your palm pressed to his soft lips. Your heart pounds behind your ribs in response to what he was about to confess. If he tells you what you so desperately wanted to hear just hours ago, you know you’ll crumble. You’ll let him take you up to his bedroom and apologize in a way that only he can. You’ll spend the night planning how you can do long distance while you’re in California. You’ll let him interfere with the plan…again.

“Don’t say that to me right now, I can’t hear that.”

He nods into your hand slowly, his eyes soften, and you try to memorize every bit of amber in his otherwise black brown eyes. This will be the last time he looks at you like this, and the realization seems to suck the air out of the room. You wish you could bottle up how it makes you feel when he looks at you like that; the way it comforts you and shuts off the narrated to do list in your mind that’s always growing in your mind. 

“Joel, if…if you feel that way, then you’ll let me go,” you tell him, voice just above a whisper. He lets out a shaky breath through his nose, the heat of it warming your hand. One of his hands leaves your face to wrap around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull your hand away or step back out of your grip. Instead, he runs his thumb in small circles along the soft, smooth skin there, and you swear you can feel the whorls of his thumb tattooing themself on you, trying desperately to stay with you forever. 

“You’ll understand why I have to go to Berkeley now,” you continue. “I have been working so hard for this. And for years, I have been doing it all on my own. I’m so close, Joel…so close to finishing what I started when I was, like, seven years old. So, please, I’m begging you…please do not finish that sentence.”

You drop your hand from his mouth, his grip going weak as he lets you slip out of his grasp. He looks small, almost deflated in front of you as he stumbles back a few steps. The silence between the two of you feels heavy. 

It’s over. Whatever this was, or could be, is over, and you both know it. 

When he finally speaks, it’s a sad whisper. “What about when you’re done?”

“A lot can change in three years, Joel,” you respond, mostly to extinguish the flicker of hope in your chest. It’s better for you to push him away now than to hope that he’ll be there when you graduate. No one has ever been there for you, and this is proving to be no different. You step around him and head to the front door, biting down hard on the inside of your cheek as the tears threaten to reappear while you get your shoes on. 

“Freckles, wait.”

You close your eyes, facing the door with your hand on the matte black knob. His dress shoes click on the shiny marble before his large hand comes to rest on the door beside your head. This is the exact position you were in after accidentally catching him in his office. You keep your eyes glued to the door and after a sniffle, a quiet clearing of his throat and a whispered, heartbreaking ‘fuck’, he continues. 

“I really am sorry,” he says, his voice hoarse. “This is not how I wanted this to go, but you know what you need and I respect your choice. These last few weeks have been so much more than I could have imagined, more than I deserve. You have brought me back, sweet girl. I know you probably don’t believe a word of what I’ve said tonight, and that’s ok, but with you, I felt that pull that I’ve been waiting for. I felt it the minute your cleaning caddy fell to the ground and I locked eyes with you. If you were anyone else, I would have let you run out of here and then had you fired. I chased you and I’ve been chasing you ever since, even though I know you are meant for more and that this could only ever be temporary for you. This was always going to be the end for me and a well-deserved, hard-earned beginning for you.”

He takes a shaky breath in and you open your eyes, but you don’t look back at him. “Regardless of all that, I meant what I said in my office that day. Starting this with you would be it for me. A lot can change for you in three years, and I want you to experience everything in California. But for me, it’s you. It will always be you.”

Your chest feels like it’s going to cave and your knees threaten to buckle. “I have to go, Joel,” you grit out, forcing your voice past the boulder that’s formed in your throat.

“I know, and I’m so proud of you, sweet girl,” he whispers, dropping his hand and stepping back. The heat of his broad body and leather-and-ash scent disappear from behind you, and it feels like you’ve been plunged into freezing, uncharted waters. 

You get in your car and drive, unsure of where your final destination will be. After driving around Austin for a while, you find yourself parking outside of the Maid Discreetly office. You take a minute, deciding what you are and aren’t going to tell your best friend before heading in. Jamie’s office is impeccable as always, not a single smudge on the glass desk as she types on her laptop, looking effortlessly perfect.  

“Hey, babe!” she says with a smile as you cross the threshold.

“How’s your dad doing with the California office?” you say, trying to act casual.

“Oh my god!” she practically shrieks as she jumps up from her chair. “Did you get into Berkeley?”

“That depends,” you say, raising one shoulder. “Does he have a job for me there?”

“Holy shit!” She runs around the desk and wraps you in her arms. How she can move like that in stilettos is beyond you.

“Careful, you’re gonna break an ankle,” you deadpan. The weight of what just happened with Joel almost dissipates. Jamie pulls back to look at you, her eyes scan your face and you feel exposed.

“Why aren’t you more excited? What’s wrong?”

Shit. 

A sob leaves your throat and you collapse into Jamie’s open arms. She pulls you into her office with one arm and closes her door with the other, then leads you to the couch along the far wall. As soon as she gets you seated, you manage to explain everything between sobs and very unattractive nose blowing.

This is supposed to be one of those exciting moments of your life. You did it: you got into the school you always dreamed of and you're moving to California; a place you always felt most at ease in. Yet, it’s all clouded over by having your heart wholly shattered by a man that you actually thought was going to be the love of your life. Someone who showed you he cared, showed you that he’d always be there. 

But it was all a lie. 

[vifilms]

NSFW EIGHTEEN+

all i seem to think about lately is religious!abby who grew up in a church all her life, always been told she needs to be with a man, marry one, build a life with one — owen in particular is who she’s been told to have. the arranged marriage she was basically grown into. 

in her early twenties, yet has she had the opportunity to be with another. a promise to her father, with the cross-necklace laying on her chest, she’s dedicated to being celibate until marriage. a pact practically bound by the blood of virgin mary, she believes in the sacred bond she has through faith with her god and savior, jesus christ. funnily enough, it’s the words she utters as you corner her in the bathroom. well…not so much as cornered, not with those curious blue eyes begging for something, anything to unburden her from the life abby feels trapped in. even if she knows it goes against everything she’s been taught, she doesn’t stop you from snaking your hand up her sunshine sunday dress, bright blue as it bring out her eyes, never leaving your actions. at first, your fingers only running along her folds, teasing the era until she’s dripping for you. there isn’t a doubt in your mind she’s never felt anything like this. 

the gold cross pendant a pawn in her mouth as if the only purpose it’s ever served is to be a prop until the cadence revealed itself. the truth of religion can be found on the tips of your fingers, the delicate touches on abby’s clit. abby lets her mind wander into the altar, the communion she takes, you’ll be the sin she begs for forgiveness next. seeping into her body like the blood pumping through her veins, the lone reason for her existence was for you. no god could compare to this, the trembling of her thighs, the moans she whispered in hopes not even her savior from above could hear her. 

is god really the way, the truth, and the light if she sees heaven through your eyes? 

“this is what you wanted isn’t it? someone to save you from the chains you call religion? let me set you free.” without a second more wasted, your tongue laps at her pussy, enjoying the way she can barely hold herself up. letting you claim something now has had the privilege of venturing. she would be shunned, ostracized from society if anyone knew the truth. 

truthfully, it’s an easy task. the angelic blonde so deprived of another’s touch she slithers in the hands of a snake, tasting the forbidden fruit for the first time. it’s quick, overwhelming when she comes undone, spilling her sweet nectar into your lips, hips moving uncontrollably as she fucks your face. knuckles bearing the color of winter snow, clutching onto her dress that rests at her toned abdomen as you swallow every last drop. 

stepping away from her, you grab a washcloth, running it under warm water, abby unable to move. impending doom washes over her guilty, and now sinful, heart. this never should have happened, the voice in her head repeats, the path of self righteousness was supposed to be hers but now she finds herself acquainted with the sinner and the snake, straying from the life of a discipline and discipleship. 

“hold your pretty dress for me. can’t get it wet, can we?” abby lifts her dress, clutching it as the warm wash rag gently cleans her, she feels your fingers dip inside her slightly, thorough as you clean up her cum. 

“i should get back out there.” abby shyly whispers. “my dad will be looking for me…and owen.” 

“right.” you toss the used rag on the countertop, “just one more thing.” 

with a passion laced in your tongue, you steal her breath away, lips locking either her pinky, pouting ones. abby can only assume the salty but even sweeter taste is her. whimpering as you squeeze her small tits through the pale blue dress, abby can’t help but grind against your legs between her legs, aching for something more. this time, you deny her of what she so desperately needs. 

“come and find me when you’re ready for a real fuck, princess.”

[persicipen-archive]

𑑛 “GOLDEN HOUR” ﾉ SUNDAY. HONKAI STAR RAIL

afab gn reader ﾉ words 1.2k ᯽ reader is sunday’s personal assistant. secret affair. boss and employee relationship. slow sex after waking up. pulling out. cum swallowing. surprisingly domestic making out. happy sunday :3 ᯽ ADULT CONTENT ﾉ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ᯽

“Please, don’t get up yet. We still have some time… I can always explain if you’re late,” he murmurs into your hair, scooping your body closer.

The only reply he hears is just a soft sigh as you let yourself be convinced.

The sheets are messy, crumpled, and you already think how long it will take you to change them because of this delay. As if sensing your mind being preoccupied with something else, Sunday starts smooching you all across your head, getting closer to your face, the feathery touch tickling you here and there slightly until you giggle into his lips and reciprocate the direct kiss.

There are no mornings or evenings in Penacony.

Always an hour set by the clock, and everyone just lives around it. It’s dark behind the curtains of the guest bedroom in his office, but, in all honesty, it’s constantly dark in here, if not counting the dazzling and sparkling, shimmering spectacle of lights of the neons, billboards, lamps and other attractions the Golden Hour can offer.

There’s only one rule here — live to the fullest.

For once, the prim and proper young man tries to apply it to his own routine, risking not arriving according to the schedule to his upcoming meeting just to feel your body close to his own once more.

“I promise I’ll be quick. Well, am I even wrong if I said you’re not against such a welcome after opening our eyes, hm?”

“Hush, now… You always surprise me.”

“How so?”

“Calm and benevolent leader of the Family suddenly acting a little bratty, a spoiled boy who needs his hugs before work.”

He runs his hand across your shoulder, leaving goosebumps where he touches. Then his fingers glide downwards along your side and waist until he cups your thigh and pulls your leg over himself before you can even react.

“Don’t say that.” His voice is buttery soft, a tingle of laugh reverberating at the ending note meaning he liked the joke. “You’re the only one who can see me in such a state. You’re the only one I allow in my bed… and to make scandalous claims about one of the most important figures in Penacony.”

He shifts slowly with the smile — a genuine one — disappearing from the corner of his mouth a moment before he rubs his cock between your folds. The intent is obvious — to have you wrap yourself around him with every limb like ivy.

Resting foreheads against each other, dishevelled hair tangled together and, almost moaning out loud from your intoxicating heat and wetness, he places the tip inside.

“Ah…” you hum sweetly and your whole frame trembles at this movement that was meant as a casual gesture and gets turned into a pleasurable foreplay so easily.

It’s difficult not to rush. He holds onto control tightly, keeps himself contained and careful so much that sometimes it makes you want to see him break out of these walls, come undone completely with passion. This time is no different. It seems as if you could barely hear his heartbeat quickening up against your ear while you press your lips against each other, swallowing little sounds. But he slides into you with caution nonetheless, enjoying every inch of you wrapping around his length.

Slowly, carefully, steadily, he’s making love to you for minutes now. Soft cries die out between ruffled bedsheets along with the quiet, slick noises of his cock dragging through your walls and pulling back in, covered with your juices. The leisurely pace is just perfect for you today — there’s no need for excitement nor to have a shattering orgasm.

Everything is so warm, cosy and satisfying…

And then Sunday picks up the tempo abruptly.

The feeling is so sudden; it catches you off-guard. Your inner walls are hugging him tightly in response to the new, rougher approach, but he doesn’t give up. Now it’s the tip hitting that sensitive spot inside, which sends waves of pleasure all over your body and you have to moan out loud to release the tension.

“I… ha-aah! I thought you decided to take it s-slow!” You pant in surprise and protest. It only makes him chuckle at first as he watches your flustered expression with interest and adjusts your hips slightly to reach even deeper.

“Forgive me this time, will you, dove?”

“Mhm, I should’ve not teased you, then…”

“Exactly— ngh!”

The friction is too much to handle. What he sees is you — a quivering mess — panting faster with your eyes closed shut to deal with it, borders perfection. Your chest heaves shakily against his own one with every huff. But he wouldn’t dare stop again when you’re reacting so intensely, not unless you tell him so.

Untangling your arms from himself before he manages to pull himself up just so he can comfortably reach between your bodies and put his hand on your clit, just above the delicate flesh that now parts with each of his thrusts. You squeal from this stimulation at once and squirm under him, trying to hold on to his forearms.

The tender bud swells even more under his fingertips and Sunday smiles watching your body jerking suddenly and reflexively with every move he makes. He knows exactly how you like to be touched, never turning away his gaze from your reactions.

You’re moaning out loud as if you had no worries about being heard and he wonders if maybe he could make you scream out his name someday — but maybe not yet, not when you two shouldn’t even be in one bed.

Brows furrowing with an upcoming climax, he gives some extra attention to your clit for a while until, at last, there’s no way back for you. His wings flutter, hearing you singing cries of relief and pleasure. You shudder through your entire silhouette; your hole grips on him from the inside and releases him with sodden warmth. Hissing at this, he’s barely able to pull out in time and clumsily crawls up on top of you while fisting his cock above your face.

Ignoring the heatwave rushing down your every nerve, you open your mouth and let him smack the tip over your tongue a few more times before spurts of cum fall right on it. High on the ecstasy of the recent orgasm, your mind goes blank, you let your lover milk the last drops out into your throat whilst you continue to suckle on the very end of his slit.

As you’re coming to your senses and the bliss of afterglow subsides, Sunday begins cleaning you and his own cock up, planting a gentle kiss on your temple with a heavy breath before sitting upright on the bed.

“Would you consider not wearing me down first thing after waking up?“

At first, after hearing your question, he remains silent with a distant smile, stroking your cheek as he continues cleaning your body with wet wipes he keeps on the nightstand.

“Well, just another perk of staying here until late system hours,” he eventually replies, quietly, almost like an afterthought, and then proceeds to gather the clothes for another day. “I’m always waiting to see you come to tell that I should rest. Just so I can hug you and take you to bed with me…” he confesses softly, the same vague, half-amused, half-wistful look in his eyes.

“I see you’re always planning two steps ahead.”

“Unfortunately, not this time. As much as I would love for it to be true, I’m yet to think of a satisfactory excuse for my delayed arrival.”

[covenofagatha]

Hi! I’m new here! Idk if you are taking requests rn but umm, do you think maybe you could write the filthiest smut where Agatha is obsessed with readers pussy and after she pulls out she like holds her open just to watch her convulse and throb and watch everything seep out and she just talks about how perfect her pussy is? And then maybe reader has a biiiiiig thing for Agatha’s titties and can’t get enough of them in her mouth and falls asleep sucking on them for comfort? If not it’s okay I totally get it. Your fics do more for me than any other fics I’ve read 🙈

This was a hot request tbh so thank you! Hope it's as filthy as you wanted it to be

Title is Lana Del Rey song because coming up with titles are the bane of my existence and it kind of works

Cherry Cola

Agatha comes home after being away on a work trip for a week and you two have some catching up to do

Word count: 2400

Warnings: porn, literally pure filth and smut, girl penis agatha, cum fixation, fingering, sex, mommy kink, nipple fixation, slight nursing kink, so much dirty talk, think this is all

You’ve been perpetually horny for a week straight and it’s all your girlfriend’s fault. 

She left on Sunday for a work trip and as she kissed you goodbye, told you that, under no circumstances at all, were you allowed to touch yourself until she was back on Saturday. 

You thought it wouldn’t be that much of a challenge, since she wouldn’t be here constantly turning you on. 

And then the texts started. The photos. The videos. 

Messages like I wanna fuck you so bad and Need to fill you with my cum and watch it leak out of you and God I miss your tight pretty pussy so much filled your phone and she would send accompanying pictures and recordings of her hard and leaking cock or of the mess she made after she came. 

Your particular favorite was a video of her furiously stroking her cock by the hotel window and splattering her cum all over it. Her grunts are still ingrained in your mind. 

After a week of those, you were slowly going out of your mind, constantly having to change your underwear, but never once touching yourself. 

Even though it was literal torture. 

But it’s finally Saturday, and you are vibrating with need while you wait for Agatha to come home. She hasn’t told you when she’ll get there, so you pace restlessly around the kitchen for most of the day, trying and failing to distract yourself with something. 

You’ve never been so turned on in your life, and Agatha has never let you go this long without an orgasm. 

And then finally, finally, you hear the key turning in the lock and the front door opening. 

Agatha barely makes it into the foyer before you pounce, slamming her back against the wall and kissing her. You’re already wet just from that when she sweeps her tongue into your mouth and switches positions to pin your arms up. 

“Did you miss me, baby?” She asks amusedly, tugging your bottom lip between her teeth. 

“So much, Aggie,” you say, squirming against her restraint. You just need to feel her against you. 

She tightens her grip with a smirk and looks you up and down in your desperate state. “Were you a good girl while mommy was gone?” 

You nod and groan. “I didn’t touch myself, no thanks to what you sent. You were killing me.” 

“So good for me, doll. You’ll do anything I say, won’t you? You want my cock inside you?” 

You bite your lip, eyes dropping to the tent in her pants. All you can think about is having her inside you. It’s not a want anymore, it’s a completely all-consuming need. 

She grabs your chin in her hand and roughly tilts you up to make eye contact. “Use your words, baby. Tell mommy what you want.” 

You swallow thickly, desire holding your brain hostage. “I want you,” you rasp and she raises an eyebrow, urging you on. Her fingers slide down to your throat as a warning. “I want your cock inside me. I want to feel you throbbing and twitching because of me and I want you to fill me up like only you can. Fill up my perfect pussy that belongs to you. Feel you drip out of me cause I love it when you cum inside me.” 

You’ve been with Agatha long enough to know exactly what she loves to hear. And she loves to hear filthy, explicit details, especially about your cunt. Which you loved to provide.

Before her, you had never really been one to voice your desires. It made you feel embarrassed, almost. 

But with Agatha, she wants to hear every single dirty thing on your mind. It had taken some getting used to at first, but when you realized what to say, and the effect it had on both of you, you couldn’t believe you’d never done it before. 

Agatha moans at your words and drags you in for a hot kiss, her tongue moving against yours and staking her claim of your mouth. It’s like she’s trying to invade your body through your lips and you let her. 

The hand around your throat slides down your stomach and dips under the waistband of your pants and you whimper when she touches you over your underwear. 

“God, have you been this soaked the entire week?” She asks with a taunting laugh and your cheeks flush. 

But she isn’t wrong. “I went through so many pairs of underwear,” you admit quietly and her smirk gets even bigger. 

“Well, we better do something about that, don’t you think?” 

“Please, mommy, need you to fuck me,” you beg and she grabs your hand and drags you up the stairs and to the bedroom. The ache inside you has grown into a gaping cavern. 

Agatha puts you onto the bed and makes quick work of unbuttoning her shirt and unclasping her bra. She shimmies off her pants and you do the same, throwing your clothes somewhere across the room. 

Your eyes immediately fall to your girlfriend’s breasts. 

You may or may not have a huge thing about them. 

They’re perky and so soft and there’s something about having her nipple in your mouth that makes you feel at peace with the world. 

She sees you looking. “Want to suck on mommy?” 

The question makes even more heat flare through you but you only have one thing on your mind right now. 

Her cock. 

Which is harder than a rock, precum dripping off it, and standing at attention pointing right toward you.

You shake your head. “Maybe later, just want you inside me now.” 

She growls and crawls on the bed to you, grabbing your legs and yanking so you’re flat on your back. You gasp, waiting for her to push into you, but instead you feel her fingers stroking through your folds. 

“God, I’ve missed your perfect pussy,” she sighs, teasing at your entrance. Your hips roll to try to get her inside, but she collects your wetness and circles your clit with it. 

“Mommy,” you whine, needier than ever. 

She shushes you. “I know, sweetheart, but be a good girl and let mommy play with you for a bit. I’ve missed your pretty cunt so much this past week.” 

You bite your lip but noises still slip out as she fucks two fingers into easily and twists them. She scissors them to stretch you out, grinning when your back arches off the bed. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight and wet and warm around me,” she says, curling her fingers just right. “Can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock. You always feel so good squeezing around me, just need to fill you up and watch mommy’s love drip out of you.”

You keen at the visual, a light sheen breaking out over your body. She’s still fucking you with her fingers and you’re panting, babbling for more. 

“Are you ready for my cock?” She asks and you immediately whimper, making her laugh. 

“Please, mommy, need you to fuck me,” you say, your head spinning with want. 

“What do you want?” She gets into position, grabbing her cock and stroking it, spreading her precum up and down her length. You get sidetracked watching her hips jerk forward and you moan loudly when she leans down to rub her tip against your clit. 

Your head twists to the side as she begins to move herself up and down, coating her cock with your wetness, each time coming back up to move around your clit. Agatha lets out little gasps at the feeling and it’s only doing more to spur you on. 

“Aggie, please, please, please,” you cry, and she pushes just the tip in. You squirm to try and get more of her in you, but she pauses and just admires the sight. 

“Fuck, baby doll, you look so nice like this. Might have to take some pictures of my cock stretching you out for the next time I have to go away for so long,” she says and you clench around her. She, of course, notices and smirks. “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

“Anything you want, mommy, just please fuck me!” 

She tuts at your impatience, but pushes in and bottoms out nonetheless. Your mouth opens at the not unpleasant stretch but nothing comes out and Agatha moans at the feeling of your walls around her again. Her hands scramble for purchase on your hips so she’s able to angle you up and she can slide in deeper. 

“Fuck,” she swears in a low voice and you think you get wetter. Hearing her so affected by you is always a massive turn-on. She starts slowly rutting into you, never pulling out very much like it would be a pain to leave your cunt. “Been too long, I missed this. You feel so good stretched around me.” 

She positions herself over you so she can kiss you as she begins to move in and out of you more. You have to continuously break away from her mouth though because she keeps hitting that perfect spongy spot inside you like always and it feels too good. 

Your head drops back against the pillow beneath you and your eyes roll back in your head from the way she’s fucking you. 

Agatha always knows exactly what you need and she always gives it to you. And based on the way she’s breathing, she’s getting exactly what she needs, too. 

You become distracted by the movement of her breasts with every push and you can’t help yourself from grabbing them with your hands. When you brush over her nipples, you can feel her pulse inside you and her rhythm stutters for a moment. 

“There you go, baby, play with mommy’s boobs,” she mutters, putting more effort into regaining her speed than talking loudly. But her mouth is right next to your ear so you hear her clearly. You roll her nipples between your fingers, tugging whenever she gives you a particularly rough thrust. 

You can feel her throbbing inside you and you know she’s getting close. Which is perfect, because you are, too. You know she can feel you clenching when she deliciously drags her cock against your walls and tiny noises from both of you fill the air. 

“Fuck, baby, mommy’s going to cum in your pussy,” she groans, her drives becoming shorter and shallower. You reach down to rub at your clit to push yourself over the finish line but she slaps your hand away and her thumb takes its place.

You’re so close. 

“Need you to cum inside me, need to feel it,” you blather and her whole body stiffens and her breathing gets tighter. She goes silent for a moment before letting out a long moan, and you feel her throb inside you before a warmth spreads. 

Her cum inside you triggers your orgasm and you tip off the edge of the precipice and pleasure explodes through your body. Cumming for the first time in a week is like dying and going to heaven, only to be revived by an angel. 

The moment you come down, Agatha pulls out and quickly moves down your body. 

This is her favorite part. 

She maneuvers your legs so they’re bent with your feet on the bed and spreads your cunt lips open with her fingers. You gasp when you feel her cum start to ooze out and Agatha’s nails dig into your thigh at the sight. 

“God, baby, look at that,” she says in awe. She collects it on two fingers and holds it up so you can see. Your lips part involuntarily and she reaches back down to wrap her hand around her cock and start lightly stroking. 

Your throat suddenly feels dry at the image of Agatha doing that and you lightly cough. 

A glob of her cum splatters out of you and Agatha groans lustfully, hips lurching forward. 

“Your fucking pussy,” she says. “So fucking perfect and pretty for me. I fucking love watching my cum seep out of you after I ruin you.” 

You can’t help but moan when she takes her hand off her cock and begins spreading her seed all over your pussy lips, absolutely smearing it everywhere like she’s marking you. 

“God, Agatha,” you whimper when she begins to rub at your clit. Your walls squeeze and it sends more of her cum trickling out, which is her plan. 

“It’s so hot seeing you covered with me,” she sighs and begins to circle you even faster, not penetrating you at all so when you start to convulse, her cum can flow right out. And it does; you can feel it leak and you can hear Agatha’s sharp breaths. 

You cum again, making a huge mess all over the bed and Agatha, who doesn’t mind one bit. 

She gets you a warm towel to clean your pussy and you lay on the bed, eyes closing, while she gets you a change of clothes. 

“How was that, baby?” She asks, helping you put on pajamas. She puts on sweats and an oversized purple flannel. 

You moan happily, immediately flocking to her side once she lays down next to you. “So good,” you answer, taking your rightful place on her shoulder with her arm wrapped around you. “Missed you so much.” 

She kisses your head and gently plays with the ends of your hair. “I missed you too, baby. Might have to take you with me next time.” 

You nod eagerly. “Hide me in your hotel room and fuck me all day and night,” you add and she chuckles. You shift a little, unsure of how to ask for what you need right now. 

But she notices your loaded silence and can put two and two together based on what you usually need after she’s been gone awhile. 

Without saying a word, she slowly starts to unbutton her flannel with one hand and you quickly help her to open it. 

“So needy for mommy,” she remarks but you can’t find it in you to care because her chest is bare to the world and so are your favorite things. 

You contentedly suck one of her nipples into your mouth and suckle on it, hand coming up to lazily play with the other one. 

Agatha moans softly when your tongue flicks around her and that’s how you fall asleep. 

With her nipple in your mouth, feeling perfectly fucked and fulfilled. 

[bat-boys]

domestic bliss

pairing: Azriel x fem reader

word count: 4.5k words

warning: suggestive language but no actual smut. just lots and lots of fluff!

summary: a series of scenes that give an insight into the domestic bliss you had built with your mate

a/n: oh my goshhh thank you so much for all the love and so sorry I've been a bit MIA. I'm in the middle of a couple of wips that I'm struggling to piece together so wanted to give you something quick whilst I get my act together. I hope you enjoy it loves 🫶🏻

Part 2

A soft breeze and warm sunlight trickled into the room through the open floor-to-ceiling doors leading out to your room's balcony. The sounds of the birds chirping outside and the busy city below created a peaceful atmosphere that soothed your soul as you lay stretched out on your bed, book in hand.

A noise akin to a purr escaped the lips of the fae male sprawled across your body, head resting gently on your stomach, as you combed your fingers through his luxurious midnight black curls. Your lips tilted up in an affectionate smile as you continued to soak up the words on your page. As you gently scraped your fingernails along his scalp, another deep groan elicited, leaving you giggling and your toes curling. 

Sundays like this were your favourite. Slow, lazy and steady. Filled with quiet moments of simplicity. When Azriel wasn't busy off doing god knows what, god knows where, and you didn't have to attend any stuffy meetings or pour over lengthy negotiations and treaties as the emissary of the Night Court. When your mate could spend the day with you lounging in bed, just enjoying each other's presence. 

"Why did you stop?" Az grumbled as you lifted your hand away from his head. 

"I was turning the page, dummy." You chuckled at him. 

"Well, hurry up."

"Big Illyrian baby," you cooed, a soft yelp leaving your lips when you felt Azriel gently bite down on the stretch of bare skin he was resting on. A satisfied sound left his lips—and caused your eyes to roll—when he felt your fingers back in his hair. 

You, however, couldn't help the pulse of love and affection you sent down the bond when the next time you had to turn the page, one of his shadows appeared to do it for you.

Another chapter of your book was read before he spoke again, dispersing the soft, comfortable silence that had fallen between you. You had been convinced he had fallen asleep as you played with his hair. 

"When do you go to the Court of Nightmares?" He mumbled against your skin, his lips pursing to kiss your hip quickly. 

"Tomorrow." You sighed. It was your least favourite job as the official emissary, the one you dreaded doing every couple of weeks. Like Mor, you had been born under that particular mountain, crafted in its dark shadows, a dreamer bred to be a nightmare. It had taken years of wit and cunning to get to a position to meet the High Lord, years of barely surviving until you could petition him for a job—anything to get out of there. 

"Do you want me to come with you?" He lifted his head slightly, his hazel eyes meeting yours. Silver nearly lined your eyes as you took in his soft, gentle expression. Azriel understood just how much going there took out of you. He knew that you would return home hollow and would require the rest of the night to be cooped up in bed with his arms around you. 

He also recognised that you could absolutely do it alone. That you didn't need him beside you. You were strong enough to face your past head-on and would leave whatever meeting you were attending with Rhys and Feyre with the winning cards in your hand. But that didn't stop him from offering a comforting hand to hold throughout your time there. 

"Please." You whispered. His lips stretched into a gentle smile as he lifted his body off you to scoot up the bed and press his lips to yours in a loving kiss. 

"Of course, my love." And you knew that was that. No explanations, no words needed to be exchanged with Rhys. When it was time to travel to the Court of Nightmares, you would find your mate beside you, a reassuring hand in your own as he stood quietly beside you. 

Azriel could see the tumultuous thoughts flitting across your brain, so he did the only thing he could. He bent down once again to press his lips to yours, pouring as much love and affection as he could down that beautiful, gleaming bond you shared. 

Kissing Az never got boring, even after all these years together. He captured your bottom lip in his plush, slightly chapped lips, tugging slightly to elicit a soft groan from you, which he swallowed with his mouth. You lifted your arms to circle his neck, gently playing with the soft hairs there - your book long discarded and falling to the floor. He sighed against you as he wrapped his arms around your bare torso, pulling your chest flush against his as he deepened the kiss into something fiery that had a slow, dull ache beginning between your legs. 

You could feel him against your inner thigh and smirked against his lips as you reached a finger towards his impressive wings and carefully dragged a fingernail along the underside of his right wing where they met his back, a spot you had discovered many years ago. A primal part of you stretched out in satisfaction as you felt Azriel shudder against you at the touch. 

"So eager to go again, my love?" He teased, alluding to the several times he had already taken you that day as he gently nipped your skin before torturously slowly pressing open-mouthed, hot kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck.

"Distract me, Az." You breathed, tipping your head back to expose even more of your delicate neck to him, groaning when you felt his canines skimming along your skin. 

"With pleasure, sweetheart."

…

The noise was almost deafening, the room packed to the brim with politicians, courtiers, nobility and High Lords and their entourages. It was enough to overwhelm anyone, but Azriel watched from the edge of the room as you dazzled person after person, drifting from one group of fae to the next, completely and totally in your element. 

You enjoyed nights like these when you got to flex the skills you had built up as an emissary to the Night Court, speaking to old friends, charming acquittances, and building friendships with those you had yet to meet. The beautiful deep black gown you wore also helped. 

Azriel watched as you stood amongst courtiers from the Winter Court, catching up with some of the gossip from one of your allies. A flute of champagne dangled from your fingers; half drank as you tipped your head back to laugh at something one of your friends had said. The dress you wore tonight was some torture explicitly designed for him. It was sleeveless, showing off the delicate curves of your shoulders and décolletage, the high swell of your breasts threatening to spill over the top of your dress every time you drew breath. The slit that every now and then gave Azriel the view of the smooth curve of your leg was maddening. But what was true torture was the choker around your neck, encrusted with gems the same colour as his siphons—a reminder of where his hands had been last night. 

He had almost sent a mental note to Rhys that the pair of you wouldn't be attending the party tonight when you had emerged from your bathroom and asked him to zip you up—favouring the idea of ravishing you right there and then. It was only the thought of watching you so expertly work the room, charming everyone so thoroughly, but knowing that only he had the privilege to take you home, that had him attending tonight.

As if you could hear his thoughts, your eyes drifted from the fae before you to lock eyes with your mate across the room. Matching smirks danced on your lips as he nodded at you, and you nodded back - an inside joke between the two of you started on that first official party you had been forced to attend when the mating bond was still so new. 

A fire built in your body, beginning in your stomach and dipped lower and lower as you watched him push off the wall he had been leaning on and stalk towards you. He never once dropped eye contact, his shadows twirling before him and telling him where to step, creating a direct path to you. 

You tracked him across the room, your skin burning from his gaze. When he stopped just in front of you, his shadows dispersed to dance among your skirts and play with the hair that cascaded down your back. 

"Emissary." He greeted, bending his body into a tight bow whilst that playful smirk danced on his lips. 

"Shadowsinger." You purred. 

"Rhys has asked to see you urgently." The desire swirling in his hazel eyes made the grin on your lips widen as your stomach dipped in anticipation. 

"Excuse me." You politely bowed your head to the people you previously held court with, dropping your now empty glass on a nearby table as you followed Azriel out of the room. 

Your heels clacked on the beautifully tiled floor as you closed the distance between you and Azriel. You were still walking behind him but close enough to brush your hand against his. He turned his head slightly to smirk at you, and you felt his hand beside you curl and unfurl as he resisted the urge to touch you in front of everyone. 

After moments of strutting through the House of Wind, you reached a part of the house away from the centre of the party, with fewer and fewer people milling around. It was only then that, with lightning-fast speed, Azriel's hand whipped out to grab yours and pull you into a shadowy alcove. 

With firm hands, he pushed you against the wall, his shadows swirling to hide you from prying eyes, as one of Azriel's hands dropped to your hips and the other reached up to grip your neck. You groaned in delight at the feeling of his hands on you, the messy, feverish kisses he was now peppering along the bare skin of your neck, shoulder and collarbones. 

"Az." You moaned as you felt his canines drag along that sensitive junction where your neck met your shoulder, his tongue following to soothe the slight sting. 

"Fuck Y/N." He groaned into your skin, relishing in the way you tasted - so sweet. Even after years of being together, he would never get tired of tasting you, of his lips and tongue on your flesh, on your lips and in between your thighs. 

"What if we get caught?" You managed to say, your chest heaving as you breathed heavily, hands gripping Azriel's broad shoulders tightly. 

"That's never stopped you before, love." He teased as he ran his lips across the swell of your breasts, his touch feather-light, causing a shiver to run down your body and your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

The hand that was holding your hips in his grasp moved to slip under the slit of your dress, skimming down the curve of your leg, tracing over your knee and down your calf before wrapping around your thigh to lift it and hook it over his hips.

"You were torturing me out there, Princess." His voice had become deep and husky, and he elicited a groan from your lips as he was able to press his hips into yours with the new angle. Your body was set alight as you felt his straining erection through the material of his pants as he pushed into you. 

"Looking delicious in that dress for everyone to see." His words caused molten lava to pool in your stomach, the throbbing at the apex of your thighs to become incessant, and the wetness gathering there began to drip down your thigh. 

Anticipation curled in your stomach as you felt Azriel's hand travel from your thigh to your hip, skimming so lightly it was pure torture down your bikini line before reaching your swollen and slick sex - freezing when he realised he had unrestricted access.

"You've got to be kidding me, no underwear? Fuck you're killing me love." He groaned against your neck, roughly nipping at your jaw and causing a moan of your own to slip past your lips.

"All for you, Az." You whispered, throwing your head back against the solid wall behind you as he traced your slit, gathering the wetness pooling there.

"There they are." Rhys's unbothered drawl broke through the hazy atmosphere you were creating in your shadowy alcove, shattering the moment and causing you both to freeze. 

"I knew those lovebirds hadn't gone far." Cassain chuckled from beside Rhys. You knew Azriel's shadows were keeping you covered, that they couldn't see anything and could only recognise you both because they knew how his shadows felt and what they looked like to the untrained eye. 

"Piss off, Cass." Azriel snarled as he slowly extracted himself from you, carefully dropping your leg and trying to straighten your dress. 

"Someone's cranky," Cassain teased, and you rolled your eyes as you watched Azriel's face turn into a murderous expression. Azriel was usually so calm and collected, not easy to rattle at all, except when it came to you. 

"You know not to interrupt a male and his mate." You sighed as you gripped the front of the dress and tried to rearrange it over your chest. You noted the still-hungry look in Azriel's eyes as he watched your every move. A promise in his gaze that told you this wasn't over. 

"If you wanted to enjoy each other's company in the hallway, that's totally up to you; we get it - looking beautiful as ever Y/N -," Rhys added as Azriel dropped his shadows once you looked presentable, "but we're doing a debrief in my office, and then you're all done for the night so you can move this to your bedroom if you wish…"

"We'll be there in 5 minutes," Azriel managed to grind out, his eyes still on yours, desperately trying to calm down. 

"Is that all he lasts?" Azriel's eyes flared, and you knew Cassain had overstepped. You gave them both an eye roll, territorial fae bullshit. 

"Cass," you warned as you heard your best friend chuckle at the snarl that ripped out of Azriel's mouth as he sauntered back down the hallway. 

…

Azriel padded through the quiet hallway of the home he shared with you. His feet were cool as they touched the dark wood floor, a nice contrast to the heat pushing up against the windows from the summer sun outside. His shadows flitted and danced around him as they coaxed him to follow them, to follow them to her. His lips curled up in amusement at their behaviour as he neared the kitchen, where he could hear you humming and the soft sounds of you bustling around the kitchen. 

He rounded the corner to lean on the doorframe; strong arms crossed over his bare chest as he took in the scene before him. His heart almost stopped dead at the sight of you standing at the large island in the middle of the room, mixing bowl in front of you and wooden spoon in hand, your glorious hair pulled half up into a messy bun tied at the back of your head - tendrils falling around your face and gleaming in the sun -, wearing nothing but one of his shirts. 

A deep and primal part of him purred at the sight of you in his clothes, knowing that it was unlikely you had anything under that soft cotton. The fit was incredibly baggy on you, the hemline falling to your mid-thigh, the collar threatening to slip down your shoulder, and the sleeves so long you had had to roll them up. He delighted in being taller than you, bigger than you. A small part of him always soared when he bundled you up in his arms, being able to protect you with just his body. He knew, more than anyone, that you could handle yourself. In a tight situation, you could take down as many enemies as he could. But there was something so delightful about your body being so much smaller than his. 

A soft melody slipped past your lips, and Azriel joined in as he pushed off the doorframe. Unable to contain the need to touch you any longer, he approached you. You jolted slightly at the feeling of his large, warm hands on your hips, and a soft yelp left your lips when you felt Azriel bury his head in your hair and press a chaste kiss to the skin of your neck.

"Morning, love," Azriel mumbled into your hair, breathing in your intoxicating scent. 

"More like afternoon, babe; we spent all morning in bed!" you joked as you turned back to the task at hand.

"And whose fault is that." Azriel teased as he pulled away from your neck to reach around and gently nip at your earlobe, which sent a lick of fire straight to the apex of your thighs.

"Yours." You shot back, angling your head slightly to look at your mate.

"Hmm, I'm not so sure about that," he smirked, his beautiful hazel eyes dancing with mischief and desire as he dipped his head to press your lips in a searing kiss. Kissing Azriel was like this: all or nothing. Either his kisses were chaste, quick things meant to convey a simple hi or, more often than not, a quick acknowledgement of you during conversations or as you passed each other in corridors or hallways. His other types of kisses were slow, leisurely and utterly torturous, and he poured every ounce of love he had for you into them. His lips moved lazily with yours, licking across the seam of your lips and begging for entrance before licking into your mouth - your knees almost buckling at the intoxicating sensation and the fire burning in your body. He knew what he was doing, as was evident when he pulled away with a smirk on his lips, "what are you making?"

He grinned when he watched your eyes drift back into focus, your body slamming down to reality after a kiss that was so heady but given so casually. 

"A lemon drizzle cake." You replied somewhat breathlessly, which made him chuckle, and you felt his chest rumble on your back.

"My favourite." He said as he returned to his spot behind you and wrapped his arms around your torso, bringing your back flush to his chest as you continued baking. 

"I know, love." You softly spoke as you began to stir the mixture before you. Judging by the smile in your voice, he knew you were thinking of that moment a handful of years ago when you had both accepted the mating bond with a lemon drizzle cake.

It had been your first time to the Court of Nightmares since you had escaped and been made part of the Night Court. You had been secretly dreading it, knowing that your usual skill set as emissary would all fall apart in that place when your eyes would land on your family and those familiar snarling faces. And it had. Everything had gone to shit the moment your family had spotted you beside Rhys' throne and had smelt that mating bond on you. It had started with shouting and had escalated to your family barging their way up to the throne and threatening to gut you for turning into a whore. 

Rhys had pulled rank and ordered everyone to leave, and you had been quickly winnowed to the safety of the townhouse, where everyone had rallied around you and tried to distract you. Rhys and Azriel had gone back to calm the situation and assess the aftermath. You had been cooped up in the arms of Cassain for the evening, a loving and supportive brother figure you had never had before. But deep down, you had wanted only one pair of arms around you to soothe you and remind you that your family do not dictate who you are. 

Everyone had eventually retreated to bed, but you had stayed, needing to see him, knowing he would return at some god-forsaken hour. He had found you then when he winnowed to appear in the living room of the townhouse, curled up on a sofa in front of the fire with a book in your hand. At his appearance, you slowly put the book down to look at him. 

The bond was newly snapped in place, but he could feel your emotions faintly and was so overwhelmed by the fact that you had stayed up for him that all he could think to say was, "Good book?"

He had watched fascinated as your lips curled into a soft smile, the first since the incident so many hours ago. "Couldn't put it down." 

He chuckled lowly but didn't move from his spot as you slipped a bookmark into the page and popped it beside you, swinging your legs off the sofa to sit facing him. 

"Az, I think we need to talk." He watched as you outstretched your hand, gesturing for him to come and sit with him. 

His heart had sunk as he had walked over to you, joining you on the sofa. He knew you needed to talk about the mating bond and how you moved forward—you had been friends for so long, and he had been yearning for you since the first day he met you. And now he was terrified that you were about to reject the bond, reject him, and he was going to lose the woman he loved and the friendship he cherished with you all in one go. 

"Y/N, you need to do the right thing for you - please don't accept something because you feel bad for me. We can work it out. I can perhaps get Rhys to station me in the Illyrian mountains so you can stay here, and I-"

"Respectfully, what the hell are you talking about, Az?" You stared, baffled, at the male before you as he rambled on. He couldn't look at you, and his expression conveyed such sadness.

"The logistics of you rejecting the bond—that's what you want to talk about, isn't it?" A bark of laughter left your lips, shocking him and causing him to snap his head up to look at you in confusion. 

"Oh Az, no honey, that's not what I wanted to talk about," you softly said as you held one of his beautiful, scarred hands in one of yours and brought the other to cup his cheek. You watched, fascinated, as he internally debated whether to lean into your touch, "Stay here a second; I'll be back."

He watched, confused, as you flashed him a warm, comforting smile before dashing off the sofa and disappearing into the hallway outside the living room. The wait may have been seconds, minutes at most, but it felt like hours to Azriel. His heart had stopped dead when you returned, a dish in your hand in which a delicately decorated cake sat atop it. He watched keenly as you walked back to him, smiling sheepishly and nervously, and sat back beside him on the sofa. 

"This is for you. I want to accept the mating bond." Those words, spoken so softly in the dead of night, in a house that had seen so much joy and heartache before, were enough to set Azriel alight. He had no words to describe the feeling that was coursing through him as he looked between you and the cake you held out towards him.

His hands moved on their own accord as he took the dish from you, noticing the sugar icing that had been meticulously drizzled onto the soft sponge and the sweet little decorative flower you had piped into the centre. Just from looking at it, he could tell you had baked this cake and poured every ounce of feeling into it, and he felt himself getting choked up at the thought. 

"Are you sure?" He whispered, and the vulnerable look on that face was enough to break your heart. 

"Yes. I have loved you for years, Az and the snapping of the bond in place made it seem as if the Mother and the Cauldron had finally listened to all those prayers I sent them. I baked this earlier to give it to you after we had returned from a successful meeting at the Court of Nightmares," his lips quirked ever so slightly at the sarcasm that dripped from your voice, "it may not be the moment I intended; but it's still perfect anyway. It's a larger version of those lemon sponges you love from that bakery we found last year. The owner gave me the recipe. I want you, Azriel."

Azriel had given up on finding his mate, resigned to always wondering. When you had crash-landed into his life a handful of years ago, he had silently hoped it would be you, and when he had tripped and fallen head-first in love with you, he had begun to beg that the mating bond would snap one day. So many years of yearning for you, unaware that you felt the same, that you were begging for it to be him as well. So many wasted years. And when the mating bond had finally snapped, when you had returned from a month-long summit at the Day Court and taken one look at him, he had almost fallen to his knees then and there. 

He had finally found you, and you wanted him back. Words would come to him later, spoken against the soft sheets of your bed, in between feverish kisses and in the afterglow of what was to come, so for now, he held your gaze as he lifted the small slice you had cut for him and took a bite. 

"Az, baby. I need to put the cake in the oven." Your words brought him out of the daydream he had been enjoying and back to the present moment. He chuckled and kissed your temple before unwinding from your body and taking a step back so you could move to put the cake tin in your hands and into the oven. 

He leaned back against the counter as he watched you carefully manoeuvre it inside before triumphantly shutting the oven door and turning back to him with a satisfied smile. 

"Come here." He held out his hand, a gesture so similar to the one you had given him all those years ago that a smile danced on both of your faces. You let him pull you against his chest, one of his hands falling to your hips and the other coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing some flour that had somehow made its way to your face.

"Happy 10-year anniversary, love." You whispered into the gentle silence, and the shadowsinger gave you a beautiful smile. 

"Happy 10 year anniversary, sweetheart." He whispered back as he closed the distance and gently pressed his lips to yours in a loving kiss that held 10 years of the most beautiful memories.  

Read Part 2 here!