#long ass advice but like shit this was needed I feel

[allofuswantgwinam]

i hate that every time i set a boundary with my mom after the fact I want to cry and throw up l

[yieldtotemptation]

ANIMALS ft. Natty

natty x male reader smut

10k words

“All I’m saying is,” Natty starts, like she always does, with more unsolicited advice than you can handle at 2 AM, "for someone that complains so much about not having a sex life, you really don’t do much to fix it."

“And what, oh wise friend of mine, is your recommendation.”

“I don’t know. Get a haircut. Dress better. Try not being a massive pussy?” Natty shrugs. Or at least you think she does. Only so much you can tell over the phone.

You sigh. Bite back the urge to tell her to fuck off. But then, who else would talk you to sleep at this ungodly hour? So instead, you concede the point. “Noted.”

“Or, you know, if it’ll stop you from being such a little bitch,” and now she’s laughing, cackling really, and not once has that ever, ever meant anything good. "You could always just fuck me."

—

Two weeks and twelve hours post-Natty’s incredibly unhelpful suggestion that did absolutely nothing to alleviate you of your insomnia, and you’re back on the phone with her.

Only this time, there's video.

So, yay.

"Help me, please."

It’s a Friday and Natty's begging, again.

Because she knows she can count on you, knows that you’ve long since resigned yourself to your fate as Natty’s on-call ‘fixer’. There for everything from life-changing career decisions to helping her figure out what show to stream next.

And now, apparently, choosing her outfit for tonight.

“Help me, help me, help me, help me.”

God, this woman and her begging. Knowing full well that it’s your kryptonite.

"Okay, okay, okay," you're relenting, much earlier than usual. Mostly because as far as Natty’s petulant requests usually go this one’s a walk in the park. “But don’t you have people for this sort of thing? People who don’t, and I quote, ‘have a dogshit taste in style?’”

“It is dogshit!” Natty calls out, already turned around and leaving you (her phone) on the vanity, facing out to her bedroom and all its hideous pinkness. She disappears from the screen, diving deep into her closet for yet another pair of shorts that will most certainly hug way too close, or a top that dips way too low, or a pair of heels that scream—'hey, I have legs, would you like to spread them?' "But!"

Natty returns to the camera with a leather belt—oh no, that's a leather skirt—in hand; clad in nothing but a casual cotton bra/underwear combination that she’s filling out far too well for your sleep-deprived brain to handle.

She holds up the skirt against her waist for your consideration. Poses. It wouldn't cover a thing. Or maybe that's the point—again, you don't have any fashion sense, whatsoever.

“You’re a man, and I need a man’s opinion because I’m hoping to take one home tonight to fuck my brains out until I forget about this shit-storm of a week. So, you know—help a girl out?”

“As always, you have quite a way with words.”

Natty leans towards the camera, bending down to stare right at you. It makes entirely too much sense that she’s built an entire career around doing just this.

“It’s my third language, asshole.”

The insult lands softer than she likely intended, considering well, you’re a little too distracted to take it. It’s entirely her fault. The angle makes her tits look far too immaculate to pay any attention to her mouth.

Maybe she should consider going out just like this?

Yeah, that’d definitely get her fucked.

But, she frowns before you can make the suggestion, turning on her heels and sashaying back to her closet, leaving you to choke on air at the sight of her ass stretching out her favourite pair of panties. (The white pair with the pretty-pink bows. The one that rides up her ass when she stretches, bends, sneezes—basically any time she’s not standing perfectly still. And even then.)

Anyone else and this whole thing would be weird. Well, weirder than it already is.

See, you and Natty have this thing; this odd, cat and dog relationship that’s been going on since what feels like the dawn of time:

You’ve watched her shamelessly cycle through men faster than a teenager through a box of tissues, leaving a trail of broken hearts and broken cocks in her wake.

While she’s been forced to witness every time you’ve met ‘the one’, only to be there months later to help pick up the pieces when you’re burying your feelings in video games and alcohol and porn, wondering how it all went so wrong.

All this to say that seeing Natty bouncing around in her underwear with that laser-beam of a smile of hers; with all of her soft curves, thick thighs, her ridiculous ass and again, those immaculate fucking tits isn't that unusual.

In fact, it doesn't really do anything for you at all.

(Fucking liar.)

“Here, how about this.” Natty appears from the corner of the screen, having found a top that’s somehow made of even less material than the bra she’s already got on. The gall of her to ask, "Too much or not enough?"

You deadpan. “Does it come in adult sizes too?”

Natty grins, because she can read it right on your stupid face. She looks so, unbearably hot. Without even trying that hard. This bitch. “So just right, then.”

And then she twirls, leaving you to face her back, and before you even have time to blink, Natty’s bra has fallen down her shoulders; and you’re hating how you lean in to look because this damn app has no zoom feature to save your sorry eyesight.

Her fucking tits. Perfect, bouncy. Even through the pixels, even from behind, you can still see the way they spill.

She slips on her chosen top for the evening—a tiny, strappy number—and spins back around to face you in all her Natty glory. By the skin of your teeth, you’re looking away and leaning back, feigning nonchalance and leaving her none the wiser.

You think.

“You know,” Natty says, tilting to one side, hand on hip. Fuck, even that slightest movement makes them bounce. Utterly, utterly obscene. “You should just come tonight.”

You’re saying, “Fuck no,” before she’s even finished her sentence. ‘Coming tonight’ means ‘clubbing’, and ‘clubbing’ means being stuck listening to the shittiest music, surrounded by the worst people in all of Korea, drinking overpriced slop and watching Natty turn down a revolving door of douchebags on the dancefloor.

So, yeah.

If ‘fuck no’s’ were bricks, you’d be building the Great Wall of ‘Fuck No’, big enough for aliens on the other side of the galaxy to see with a fucking telescope and have their first contact with the human race be a giant ‘Fuck No’.

And that’s your polite way of turning her down.

Yet somehow, Natty’s hardly deterred.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Natty sing-songs, shuffling on her tiptoes, shifting her weight from foot to foot, making her entire body jiggle. It’s like she’s intentionally trying to sell you on the idea with every little movement. Make you believe that if you came with her, you’d be able to find someone who comes close to looking half as good as she does in that… whatever-the-fuck that is. Bralette? Crop top? Whatever. Fat chance. "Come on, come, come, come. Be my wingman please!"

You already have your second ‘fuck no’ queued up, but Natty just won’t stop fucking talking.

“Don’t you want to get laid? Don’t you think you need to have fun after what’s-her-name?” Natty continues, pouting at you through the screen.

And there it is, a study in how Natty usually gets her way—jutting out her bottom lip, digging her thumb into the waistband of her panties to expose just a smidge more skin, leaning just right to make her tits look like they’re about to pop out. It’s like she’s got a fucking manual.  

“Don’t tell me you’d rather stay at home with Handalf the Grey than come out with me and all my hot friends?”

“You mean having to clean up after all your ‘hot friends’ and their bullshit while you run off to score free drinks?” You retort, recalling all the other times when she managed to entice you out of your self-imposed isolation and into the deafening, sweaty hellhole known as a nightclub.

“Said hot friends that you’re too much of a pussy to hit on, mind you,” Natty chides, and then oh-so-casually decides to drop this nugget: "They all like you, you know, they'd be more than happy to break this dry spell of yours if you just asked. Don’t act like I haven’t seen the way you look at Julie."

You can feel your cheeks reddening. You’re not a teenager. You shouldn’t blush at this shit. But here you are, falling for Natty’s words and their magical abilities to needle at your insecurities and fill your head with thoughts of her friends and all their... well, incredibly positive attributes.

Natty pounces on your lapse in composure and gets closer to the camera, crouches. Drops down so she’s on her heels and all you can see in that tiny window of your phone is the red of her plush, plump lips.

“Come, you pussy—”

“Natty—”

“Do it pussy—”

“Natty, if you think that’s going to work—”

“Pussy, pussy, pussy—”

You’re yelling down the phone: “Fuck, fine!”

Natty’s victory dance is already in full swing before the words have even left your mouth. Bouncing around her room in pure joy at once again having ruined your evening. Dancing in that barely-there outfit, treating you to entirely sinful ripples across her curves and dips, pure sex on a pair of toned legs. Really makes you wonder how the fuck is she not illegal in at least fifty different countries.  

You hide your face in your hands, because there it is, the reason you’ve never really been able to deny her:

Her laughter, her energy, her fucking shameless glee whenever she manages to get her way (which, if you’re keeping count, is every single time).

She’s just so frustratingly adorable.

Somewhere in her celebrations, Natty finds exactly what she was looking for. Reaches down to the floor, picking up a belt—no, that’s another skirt—this one even tinier than the first.

“Oh, this is perfect,” she preens, holding it out to the camera (to you), before stepping right into it. She spins around, making it dance around her hips. It does wonders for her thighs. "How do I look?”

You swallow. “Like you’re going to get fucked tonight.”

The glint in Natty’s eyes. Like you’ve just served up the finest compliment on a silver platter. You feel sorry for whatever poor soul crosses her path tonight.

Natty winks. “Here’s to hoping.”

—

Guess what?

Turns out you were right: this is the worst place in the world.

Only, you’re the sole person here that seems to think that.

Hours have passed since you helped Natty look perfectly fuckable and you’re at the bar, trying and failing to get the attention of the bartender. Unfortunately, he, like every other male with a beating heart and a boner seems far more interested in Natty’s little dance routine than his thirsty clientele.

You can’t blame him, really. It’s built in how she moves.

Strobe lights cutting through the air like knives, slicing her into this series of absolutely pornographic snapshots as she dances. And she’s not alone, she has friends—beautiful, all of them, in their own ways. They spin and twirl around her; but Natty’s the sun here, the star that everything orbits.

(You included).

You see it play out—the Natty effect. Men, even women alike gravitate to her, drawn by that magnetic force that is Natty at her very best. Trying to get a dance, maybe whisper a line they stole from some movie in her ear, even dare to reach out to touch or press themselves up against her.

But she’s a black hole, a dark star. Can’t get too close.

One by one, they’re swallowed up by the void of Natty’s disinterest. The shoulders slump, the smiles falter, and the hope in their eyes dies as Natty, with a simple flick of her wrist sends them stumbling back into the crowd, forgotten almost immediately.

And the whole time she’s doing this, she’s got you in her line of sight. A wink here, a smile there, a dance on its own; and all you can do is nod and pretend like you’re okay with all this.

You inhale. Deeply.

Her outfit looks even tinier in person.

You turn away for just a moment, shaking off thoughts of Natty, of her hips and their sway and her winks and her smile; attempting (and failing) to flag down the bartender once more.

This fucking night.

But, when you look back, Natty’s no longer on the dancefloor.

She’s standing next to you. Arms looping around your neck.

“Natty—”

But she’s not listening. Her eyes are darting around the room, searching for something—or someone—that you can’t see. Your stomach clenches, because that look on Natty’s face? That’s not her usual I’m-about-to-make-some-poor-soul-my-bitch look. That’s something else entirely. That’s fear.

“Shut up, I need a favour,” she’s in your ear, yelling over the thrum of the bass that’s rattling your ribcage.

You lean in, bend down to meet her, because, frankly, you’re worried. You’ve never seen Natty like this, wide eyed and shaky. Never seen her be anything but comfortable.

You’ve also never been this close to her. Felt her breath hot against your neck, felt her body press up against you, felt her softness, felt her—

Fuck, you should be asking her what’s wrong, but before you can even do that, the bartender's filling two shot glasses and sliding them over to Natty.

She takes one. You take the other. It tastes lethal.

Natty’s nails dig into the back of your neck, and she looks at you, intense. Words fast and frantic. “Just pretend we’re together, okay? For a bit. Until I can figure this out. Just—just keep playing along, yeah?”

You blink. The room blurs around you. You think you might’ve misheard. “What?”

“Be my boyfriend,” she says, taking a second shot before you can even digest the first. “I need you. There’s some creep and I need you. Now, please?”

You turn immediately, scanning the floor, but the lights and shadows make it near impossible to make out anything other than vague shapes and strobes of colour, let alone pinpoint a face. "Natty, where is he, I can—"

"No, no, no," she cuts you off with a shake of her head. “Focus on me.”

“Wait, why do I have to—”

“Oh, shit there he is—”

And then she’s kissing you.

Ending whatever argument you may have had, because she’s grabbing, pulling you in, and her lips are on yours and oh fuck, she’s really, really kissing you.

It’s a slap to the face, and you need to reel in from the sting. Because you’re already forgetting what you’re doing, forgetting how your limbs work, because Natty’s putting on the performance of a lifetime and you’re having trouble keeping up.

Her hands are in your hair, yours at the small of her back, and she’s pulling you close, squishing against you and the taste of her—sweet like candy and sharp like vodka—filling you all the way up.

Your tongue catches up, flicking against hers, licking inside of her mouth and she’s even convincing you—as if she’s the one that’s always been into the love at first sight bullshit and you’re the non-believer.

And it’s a problem, how right this feels. Because this isn’t what friends do—definitely not Natty and you. But still, you can feel her tension, her need for this to be believable; and you don’t dare to fuck it all up.

So you kiss her back, because that’s what you do for Natty.

You always do what she needs.

You’re about to pull away; this should be enough to have every single person here convinced that you’re hers and she’s yours. But Natty’s already sliding her tongue back in your mouth, pleading, “Keep going,” the moment a gap opens between your lips; and you’re diving back into the kiss without a second thought.

And then you hear it.

A flash of a camera.

A cheer.

A whistle.

Julie, Haneul, Belle—Natty’s friends, staring at you like proud fairy godmothers witnessing their own magic at work.

You break the kiss. You look down at Natty.

She giggles.

You feel like a fucking idiot.

"There is no creep, is there?"

Natty shrugs, looks up at you, and she actually looks—what is this? Shy? Embarrassed?

"There could’ve been," she says, her eyes wide and innocent, a mask. You see through her like you should have when she first wrapped her arms around your neck.  Oh sure, like she’s ever been innocent for a second in her entire life.

She’s far too smug for that.

You roll your eyes. You feel like every other idiot that’s ever fallen for a bat of her lashes and a peek at her tits. Hope is a hell of a drug, especially when Natty’s the dealer. And yet, despite yourself, the corner of your mouth quirks up. "You're fucking insane."

“Maybe.” There’s a long pause. She’s staring at your mouth. She presses a finger to your sternum. “But I had to do something.”

It takes a second. What?

What does that mean?

You stare at Natty, lick your lips. Her taste still lingers.

“Ask yourself the same question I’ve been asking myself for months now,” she says, louder this time, her voice cutting through the noise of the club and hitting your ears with a sobering clarity.

You know what she’s going to say—what she’s going to ask before she’s even opened her mouth. You’ve been asking yourself the same thing too.

So, swallow hard, try to ignore the way Natty’s friends have gone quiet. Try to ignore Natty’s hand still resting against your chest, her eyes burning a hole right through you.

“Why haven’t we had sex yet?”

The blood’s rushing to your cheeks; the music's too loud, the lights too bright, and the room's suddenly spinning around you like a carousel.

Fucking embarrassing.

But Natty doesn’t crack a smile. She just looks up at you. Hopeful. Searching you, searching your eyes for an actual answer; and you already know what it is.

“Because, Natty, we’re friends.” You offer up a weak smile, hoping against hope that she’ll buy it.

But she shakes her head. “Oh, please. Like that’s ever stopped anyone before. Besides, if you want to put a label on it, call it whatever the fuck you want. I just know what I need. Do you?”

You sigh. She gets closer. And closer.

Until your nose is brushing hers. Until her breath is hot on your face, until your heart is racing so fast you can feel it in your ears. Until her hand is sliding down, down, down, until it’s resting over your pants and oh, oh no, you’re straining.

You gasp. She smirks.

“See? You want it too. And I know you do, because, sweetie, your cock’s practically begging me to pull it out and shove it between my tits right here in front of everyone.”

She just throws it out there, so casually, so bluntly, she might as well be talking about the weather. And maybe, maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just Natty being Natty, but fuck you can’t do anything but stay frozen still.

You’re letting her hand linger. You’re letting her touch you like she’s got every right in the world. You’re letting her because there’s a part of you—the part that’s growing by the second—that wants to see just how far she’ll take this.

“So, what is the real reason, ba-by?”

Because you’re in love with her. You’re in love with her, and you can’t just have casual sex with someone you’re in love with because it will ruin you.

But you don’t say that. Instead, you just tell her: “Timing.”

That makes her laugh. Has her closing what little gap remained between your bodies, until her tits are flush against your chest, and you’re coming to the conclusion that, yes, you did help her pick out the perfect outfit for tonight.

Perfectly, hopelessly, fuckable.

“Well,” she says, and she’s pulling you back down again and shutting you up with yet another kiss. “We’ve got all the time in the world now, don’t we?”

—

You’ve been here before.

Many, many times before.

You installed the showerhead and fixed all the cabinets yourself. Even secured the lock that you’re now unlocking with the digits that you coded.

But somehow, it feels like a first.

First time you’ve kissed her in the back of a car, pushed your hand up her skirt, felt the heat of her against your fingertips. First time you’ve pinned her against the wall of an elevator, made her feel just how desperate you were for her against her thigh, made her promise to be so good for you when you got to her door.

First time being pulled through the threshold, hands at your chest, tearing your shirt off you before you’ve even stepped foot in her apartment. Had her smiling against your mouth, because she’s won, again, and you can’t even bother to argue because you’ve lost to her so many times now that this shouldn’t be so surprising.

What is surprising though is how you’re naked first.

"Terrible, terrible taste." Natty's clicking her tongue as your shoes, your shirt, your pants are scattered along the floor behind you. “We’ll have to fix that.”

And then she’s moving on, hands clawing down your stomach to land at the waistband of your underwear, hooking her thumbs in and yanking down. You’re so obviously hard—you’ve barely made any effort to hide it from her—fuck, you pretty much flagged down the taxi with it.

"Holy fuck," is the first thing out of Natty's mouth when she takes a hold of you, feeling the naked weight of you in her palm. "You’re really not messing around, are you? I was expecting—"

"A sad, lonely little thing," you finish for her, because you've heard it before. "Yeah, you like to mention it a lot."

But Natty’s not laughing now.

She’s just staring. Almost reverently. She decides, her voice a little raspy, tinted with an apprehension that you never knew she was capable of mustering, "I like it. It's... massive."

You lean in, pressing your mouth against hers because if she’s going to say that, you’re going to kiss her, again and again, and there’s a strong possibility you're never going to stop.

She whimpers, gasps into your mouth, says your name for the first time—not some nickname, not a jab or an insult. Just your name, in your ears, like it’s something sacred.

You’re not a saint. You can’t ignore that.

Your cock jumps in her hand, and as if on instinct, she strokes you.

It's slow, purposeful. She's too good at this. Knows the right pressure, where to twist and wind her wrist. How to sweep her thumb over the tip, smear pre-cum over your skin, and this entire time she's staring down at your cock like she's discovered something new.

“This is going to ruin me, isn't it?” she whispers, and you nod, because your voice is lodged in your throat and she’s stealing the air from your lungs. “Going to fit so fucking nicely inside me. Fuck it’s going to stretch me.”

You groan, collapse your weight into Natty, press your lips against the column of her throat.

Both hands now, one underneath, toying with your balls, balancing them in her fingers, and the other doing its best to squeeze, to pump, to make you fall for her with every stroke.

“I can’t wait to ride this,” Natty kisses these words into your cheek, your jaw, leaves these marks all over your collarbone. “I wonder if I can fit it down my throat. God, can you imagine what it’ll look like between my tits?”

And that makes your cock throb.

Because face it, Natty has always had a way of getting into your head; is far too dangerous with her words, and she’s all too willing to abuse this power she has over you to get you do what she wants, which is now, apparently, fucking her senseless.

You let her, let her build and build this pressure, let it coil inside you, tighter and tighter. Until the need to feel her, all of her, is too much to handle.

Until you grab her, take her by the shoulders, push her—not hard, but firmly—against the nearest wall.

You’re not gentle about it, because Natty doesn’t want gentle. She wants rough, she wants passionate, she wants to be fucked and have her cunt worshipped by way of complete ruin.

She’s told you as much.

"That's more like it," Natty bites into your ear, grips your shoulders. She follows your eyes. "Let me guess, my tits?"

So, maybe she has caught you looking once or twice. Either way, you don’t care much for her top anymore, it’s served its purpose. You take a fistful of it and pull, ripping it right off her and tossing it to the floor with everything else that’s kept the two of you from tearing each other apart.

“Better?” Natty poses for you, puts her tits on display—and yeah, you were right all along. Fucking immaculate.

You take a hold of one, palm it; fill your hand with flesh, twinge those dark, plump nipples, because of course you’re going to. You’re going to pinch and squeeze and suck on them. You’re going to mark her like she’s already done to you. Mark them, with your teeth, with your tongue. Fuck, you’re going to make them yours.

But for now, you're just going to slap them, because you want to watch them jiggle up close.

You laugh. Natty does too.

"Much better."

And with that, you’re back on her. Kisses that are sloppy, wet, and filled with all the pent-up want that's been simmering for months. You don’t even know where to begin with Natty, but you start with her mouth. It’s a good place. It’s always a good place with Natty.

Her hand doesn’t stop moving, can’t, won’t. The friction is heaven; you just let her touch you, fuck her hand while you indulge in her tits. Get to know the weight of them, the balance, the softness.

A sigh into your ear as your tongue finally finds her breasts, deep and messy, sliding over her nipple—she’s already so sensitive, just a flick and she’s gasping. You’re not even trying to be precise anymore, not that Natty needs it, not that she needs anything but for you to enjoy yourself against her.

It all makes the room seem smaller, the walls close, surrounding you with the scent—cinnamon and sweat and something else that’s just her.

“See this is why fucking me is such a great idea,” she slurs against your shoulder, hand tightening, stroking you harder, faster.

You mumble an affirmative into her breast. It’s a miracle you can still stand upright.

“Isn’t this so much better than like everything else? Anyone else?” She sighs, breathy, sweet sounds, as she takes you by the wrist, guides your hand southwards.

Fingertips graze her stomach, trace around her belly button and lower; until you’re digging into her skirt and feeling the heat rise off her skin. She’s soaked right through her panties, dripping with it. Another place for your tongue to land.

“We can just be fucking honest with each other,” Natty’s explaining, eyes tearing when your finger pads her clit, pressing down just right. “You already told me all the things you hate. All the things your bitch exes never let you do.” And she smiles, wicked. “Never had the tits to give you.”

Christ.

“And I can get you to fuck me exactly how I want with this big, fucking cock,” Natty finishes. "We’re a perfect fucking match."

It’s at that moment you find the zipper of her skirt, tugging it down, watching it fall to the feet. Leaving Natty to step out of the tiny scrap of fabric she calls her panties; abandoning the sticky mess of cotton.

You take a step back, unlatch your lips from her tits, because you need to see it. Need to finally see her, see your Natty, see the Natty you've never allowed yourself to look at.

So, take your time, drink her in—because the way she’s standing there, the way she’s touching herself now; biting her lip, sighing your name. All but saying, ‘Look all you want, but don’t you dare look away’.

Look at the arch of her neck, the red you’ve left there, that trail you’ve burned down to her tits. Bruised and swollen from your tongue, your kisses, and yet still not marked enough. Follow the curve of her hips; how they flare out from her waist, the plush squish of her ass cheeks against the wall behind her.

You want to kiss her, from the tips of her toes to the top of head; all of her, every part of her, because now she’s going to finally let you.

Because now you're going to fuck her until all she knows is you, going to make her scream your name, going to make her beg for you to fill her with your cock and cum and never ever leave her cunt empty again.

That’s the plan, anyway.

But Natty’s got plans of her own.

“Didn’t you say,” Natty begins, sighing, circling her cunt in a rhythm that you’re dying to recreate. She licks her lips. “That your last ex refused to suck that lovely, magnificent cock of yours?

"Yeah," you stammer, at a loss for breath at just the sight of it all. “And weren’t you trying to find someone to fuck your brains out?”

Natty’s eyes light up; and there's that easy, charming grin that knocks you right off your feet. "You’ve always been such a good listener."

—

Natty's plotting to ruin you.

It's the only possible explanation for the way she's looking at you right now—on her knees, at the foot of her bed, flanked by walls painted an ugly shade of pastel pink and Natty's tits, sandwiching your cock.

You’d imagined it, thought about it when you shouldn’t have been thinking about it. Whenever she brought you to watch her perform, whenever she sent you pictures of her outfit of the day. But your eyes always went there. Straight to Natty’s tits, every time.

You knew they were big.

You’ve felt them, on accident (though they don’t seem like accidents anymore).

But now, to have them enveloping your cock, drowning your shaft in their softness, and to have her, staring at your face with so much fucking excitement as she gives you everything you’ve ever wanted—it’s surreal.

You’re dying to paint them white.

“Looks like you’re already about to fall apart, baby,” she teases, and it’s even worse now that she’s calling you these sweet names, saying them like she’s always wanted to, like she’s finally letting herself. “Couldn’t wait, could you?”

“Fuck, Natty—” you breathe out, your hands finding her hair, tightening, because that’s all you can manage to do when Natty’s in control. Like she’s always been.

“Mmhmm,” she hums, keeping her eyes on you, making sure you’re watching, even as her tongue flicks out to taste you. A slow, taunting lick to make you buck your hips, desperate to feel the suction of her lips. “You must have been dreaming about this, huh?”

You don’t bother lying. She already knows the answer. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

Natty’s smile spreads across her face, and she rewards you with a kiss, pressing her lips down onto the head of your cock; before sliding them lower, eyes fluttering shut with the first taste of you. “Well, what took you so long? All you needed to do was show me your cock and I’d have been happy to do it whenever you want me to. Happy for you to use my tits as your cum rag. You know that, right?”

She moves; and the sight of it alone—Natty’s tits wrapped around your cock, bobbing up and down, hypnotising you with the flicker of her nipples—up and down, up and down. It’s merciless, unrelenting, and she keeps talking, keeps kissing these sweet little words into your cock that makes your hips jerk, trying to fuck her tits faster, harder.

"Look at how perfect you look," Natty keeps going, "how your cock fits so snug."

The sounds she’s tearing from your throat as her tits take you, and she’s barely even started.

“But we can do better, can’t we?”

Her pace picks up, and with it, the tightness of your grip on her hair. She’s pushing the ample mounds together, squeezing, putting her whole body into it, into this new art she’s pioneering. Driving you insane with just her breasts, making you swell between them, throbbing as she works you over.

“So big," she’s panting from just the effort, the bounce, bounce, bounce of it all, "I can feel you getting so much bigger."

Everything’s going too fast, her tits are too soft, her lips on you too hot, and she’s drooling, her spit dripping down onto your cock. You want to tell her to stop, that you can’t take it, but Natty just keeps going.

"Fuck,” Natty mewls, pinching her own nipples, for you, for her. Pinching and rolling them, making them nice and stiff and swollen. “Let me just try and—”

She cranes her head, bends; takes your cock deeper into the warm, wet heat of her mouth. Her tongue darts out licks your cock, gets that sweet spot on the underside, makes you shake underneath her.

Natty holds you there, even as you groan, even as your hips rise; just licks, spits, sucks. Her mouth moving up and down on you, making a mess down your shaft, down her tits. Taking you deeper, deeper, until you’re fucking her face.

She moans around you as your hips buck and you push deep, desperate for it. Her eyes water, her cheeks hollow, and she’s got you. You’re in her mouth and she’s loving it. Loving the power she has over you, loving giving you what she wants, loving how you’re pulling her by the hair, desperate to feed her more of your cock into her throat.

Like your entire relationship has been building up to this moment—to Natty’s tits wrapped around you, her mouth all over you, her eyes on yours, watching as you fuck her face.

"Fuck, Natty," you grunt, your voice barely recognisable. "What the fuck—"

But Natty's just smiling, you’re fucking that smug little smile on her lips, and she’s taunting you. "Come on baby, keep going, keep going."

It’s utterly obscene—the smack of her lips around your cock, her slobbering all over you, her gagging, her moaning around you, looking up at you and asking, “Is that all you’ve got?”

You're so close, so fucking close, and she knows it. Moving her tits faster, faster, and you're about to blow your load all over Natty's pretty face, her chest.

But she keeps talking.

Even as you stuff her cheeks, even as you muffle her, “None of those other skinny bitches could do this, could they, could handle this big, fat cock?”

Even as you force her down, pull her by the hair, “You’ve been so obsessed with my body, so obsessed with my tits, haven’t you?”

Even as her tits slide off you and your cock smacks her across her cheek, “I always saw the way you looked at them, fuck I was showing them off for you, you just took too fucking long to notice.”

She won't stop fucking talking.

You finally snap. "God, are you ever going to stop?"

But Natty just laughs, bats her lashes. Slides her tongue from your base to your tip. "Maybe you should find something to gag me with."

Your hand wraps around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her eyes go wide, to make her mouth pop open. She rolls out her tongue for you, and you know what she expects you to do, what she expects you to fill her mouth with.

But you don’t—instead, you fill it with your kiss.

It's deep, it’s bruising, it’s saying ‘fuck you’ in the sweetest way possible, without uttering a single syllable. Natty laughs against your mouth, a ‘fuck you’ right back with her teeth, biting down on your lower lip. Not breaking skin—not yet—but the promise is there.

Her hand leaves your cock to wrap around your neck, pulling you closer to her, her mouth eager for yours, and you don’t even think twice before you hoist her up, her legs wrapping around your waist. Giggling again—another sound that’s going to be your undoing—before you’re both stumbling back onto her bed.

The mattress dips under the weight of your bodies falling back into it. Natty straddles you, presses her cunt down onto your thighs. So wet you can feel it on your thigh, leaving your skin sticky and stained with her. Your hands move to her hips, dragging her closer, so you can feel the friction grinding against your cock, making you ache.

She breaks your kiss, gasping for air. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide—seeing her pant like this, it’s not even fair. She’s just so fucking beautiful, like a painting you’re afraid to touch because you might smudge it.

You tell her as much.

She blinks. Blushes.

Grins.

“You,” Natty breathes, her hand trailing down your chest, finding your heartbeat, resting there for a beat, two, “are so fucking in love with me.”

You don’t argue because she’s right.

Her hand slides up your arms, nails dig in and she’s got your wrists, pinning them over your head. You let her. Let her grind herself against your cock, feel the warm, wet heat of her cunt against the tip.

She takes her sweet time, melting herself into you, pressing her tits into your chest, and you can feel her heart racing against yours.

She whispers, “God, I’ve waited so fucking long for this.”

You can’t even form a coherent thought, so you just grunt.

“I’ve dreamt about this so much,” she continues, breathless words sending shivers down your spine. “Your cock, fuck, it’s just as perfect as I imagined. And now, it’s all mine.”

And then she does it—she sinks down onto you, slow and sweet, her pussy taking you in inch by glorious inch. You groan into her shoulder, your eyes shut as Natty’s tight heat surrounds you. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before; sure there’s been others but something about Natty’s cunt is so intense it’s almost painful.

“So tight,” you grit out, the words torn from your chest like they’re made of glass. She just laughs, low, sultry, and starts to move.

It’s a dance, a rhythm that’s been building between the two of you for what feels like an eternity. She’s rocking her hips back and forth in this torturous grind. Fucking you like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do, like she needs to make the most of it. Like you’re going to vanish into thin air the second she lets you go.

“I knew you’d feel this good,” Natty sighs into your neck, already surrendering to your cock. “Fuck, I knew it—why did you keep this from me?”

You can’t answer, not really.

You’re too lost in the feel of her, too consumed by the way she’s moving on top of you. Every inch of her body is pressed against yours, and she’s so warm, so alive, that you can’t think of anything but how Natty’s finally letting you in. How she’s letting you make her whole.

But it’s too much. Natty’s cunt, tight and wet, fucking you so slow it’s a fucking crime. Pinning you down, a butterfly on a board spread out, displayed, unable to do anything but take her sweet, sweet punishment. And she’s whispering it in your ear, grinding down, rolling her hips, “Fuck you. Fuck you for keeping this from me,” with every stroke.

She’s doing it on purpose, you’re sure of it. Driving you crazy, making you beg, making you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life. Your hips jerk up to meet her, trying to speed things up, to get that friction you need, but Natty just pushes down on your shoulders, keeping you in place.

So you tell her, "This is fucking torture."

Natty just smirks, her hips never stilling. "Is it?" she asks, as if this all isn’t intentional. Like she doesn’t have some grand plan to ensure you never forget the things her cunt can do to you. "Do something about it then."

So, you do.

It takes more effort than you’ll ever admit, but you break her grip on your wrists, grab her hips, and flip her over, sending her sprawling onto the bed, face down.

The squeal from her. It’s music.

How her eyes go wide when you treat her like a ragdoll, how her tits juggle and bounce, smacking the mattress. And when you push down into her, slamming your hips into her ass, how she arches back into you, her back bowing like a fucking violin.

“Yes!” She cries, fucking cheers into the mattress, like she’s been waiting for this—for you to have had enough of her shit and take her without asking. “Yes, yes, yes—”

You hover over her, throb inside her. "Is this what you fucking wanted?"

Natty sighs into the bedsheets, urging her hips against you, begging without words, begging for you to do more.

“You want it rough, baby?”

“Yeah,” Natty says, pushing back against you again, nodding immediately. “If you can.”

Still with the provocations, unable to resist pressing at your buttons.

You grab her hair, yank it back so she’s staring at you, force her to look at you. And you fuck her hard. Fuck her like you’ve wanted to since the first time she walked into your life and decided to make it all about her.

You fill her with deep, long strokes, fill the room with the smacks of your hips colliding against her, of your cock thrusting into her cunt again and again.

She claws at the sheets, trying to find purchase, trying to push back against you. But you’re too strong, too desperate.

You pound into her, impale her with your cock, watch her face twist in pleasure, in pain. You’re fucking her like you’re trying to break her, like she asked. Trying to solve her—how hard can she take it, how deep, how fast.

But Natty won’t give you an answer, she just takes it all—every inch, ever pump into her sopping wet cunt. Just grins and takes every bit of your need, your frustration. A bottomless pit of pleasure, begging for more with every whine, every little noise she makes that’s not quite a scream but is so close that it rattles your brain.

And when you finally let go of her hair, Natty’s licking her lips, and without even a care for what it does to you, she coaxes, “You can do better.”

You don’t know how she can talk right now, how she can even think with your cock so deep inside her, but something about the way she says it makes you want to test the limits of her ability to stay coherent.

But first, there’s the problem of her ass.

“Let’s see about that,” you murmur, dragging your hand down her spine, feeling the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, and coming to a stop at her perfectly rounded ass. It’s a masterpiece, a work of art, and you’ve always had a bit of an artist’s soul.

You do what comes naturally.

A spank against Natty’s ass. Hard, hard enough to make her yelp.

Again—another slap, another yelp, louder, better.

You keep fucking her, keep spanking her, keep watching red bloom across her cheeks and Natty squirm underneath you. The whines get louder, her cunt gets wetter, but it’s still not enough to dull that smug look on her face.

“Fuck yes,” Natty gasps, raises her ass, presenting it to you like a trophy for you to claim. “I always knew you had it in you.”

You grab her hips harder, your knuckles white, your hand a blur as it connects with her ass. It’s so explicit, the sound of it in the quiet of Natty’s apartment—each spank echoing through the room like a gunshot.

But Natty just takes it, her body jolting with each hit, her cunt tensing and tightening around you.

“God, don’t fucking stop,” Natty sputters, tears of pained pleasure leaking from the corners of her eyes. “You’re using me so good.”

You lean down, kissing hard against her neck, branding her shoulder. You want her to feel you, to remember you. To not be able to ever feel remotely good again without first thinking of you.

"It's your fucking fault, Natty," you growl into her ear. "You drive me mad."

And she laughs, the sound vibrating through her body and going straight to your cock. "Good," she answers, "Good. Be mad. Be angry."

But you’re beyond that now, beyond the point of no return. All that you know is Natty’s cunt, Natty’s ass, Natty’s moans, and Natty’s grin that you’re aching to wipe off her face.

"Fucking hate me if you want," she’s saying, and she can’t seem to stop, "just don’t stop fucking—ah!”

You nearly stop when you realise you’ve finally done it. Finally left Natty out of breath, lost for words. A fucking miracle, really—the kind that makes you feel like a fucking god.

It doesn’t stop her cunt clenching around you, tight as a vice, because even now, Natty’s got some kind of death grip pussy, and she’s using it to fucking kill you.

You whisper in her ear, “You like that?”

Her only response is a breathy, needy little whine, so you spank her again.

And again.

Her cunt tightens. She’s close, so close. You can feel it.

“You like it when I use you, Natty?”

She nods, her eyes screwed shut, her mouth crying into the mattress, a mess of hair and sweat and utter bliss.

“Say it,” you demand, slapping her ass once more, watching as the pain ripples through her. “Say it.”

And Natty does, because she’s a good little whore, because she’s yours now. “Yes, yes, I like it when you use me, when you fuck me like this, when it’s only about you, your cock, your needs, your pleasure—”

God, it feels good to hear her say it, but you still want more than just words. You want her to fucking scream it.

You make the bed shake, knock the headboard against her wall, it’s a competition of what’s going to break first—the frame or her.

“This cunt. Your cunt. I’m going to use it. Fuck it whenever I want.”

But Natty catches you off guard, because that’s what Natty does best. She opens her eyes, looks right into yours, and suddenly she has her voice again: “Whenever I want. You’re going to fucking move in with me.”

You freeze. Your hand mid-spank. Your cock mid-thrust. It throws you entirely off, because, what the fuck?

"You're going to be my boyfriend now," Natty says, wrenching back control, fucking her ass back into you. Stating not asking, leaving no room for argument. "Move in with me, your place sucks anyway."

"You're out of your fucking mind," you start to protest, but she cuts you off with another squeeze of her cunt around you, and now she’s the one fucking you, her hips rolling back and forth in this maddening, sinful way that has you biting down on your tongue to keep from shouting.

"Move in and just fuck me every day," she says, all light and airy, like it’s already been decided, like moments ago you didn’t have her dead to rights. "Morning to night. It would be so fucking nice."

This is real, you know that for sure. It’s not just something she’s saying to get off, not another way to get under your skin. You know it in her voice, she’s deadly serious and suddenly your mind’s racing.

"Come on," Natty purrs, punctuating each word with a slap of her ass against your waist, "You know you want it, why fucking wait?"

She’s not wrong. It makes too much fucking sense to deny. And yet, part of you still can't believe it. That Natty, the girl who's had countless men at her feet, could have any man at her feet, actually wants you. That Natty is underneath you now, eyes glossed over with need, mouth swollen from your kisses, ass cheeks flushed crimson from your palm.

"I'll take such good care of you, baby," she says, unaware that she’s already completely won, unaware that her cunt already has you bending to her will. "Every day, every night.”

You can't help but nod. You're too consumed in her to do anything else. You just let go of everything. The fears, the doubt, the fucking logic.

And Natty says it, the three words that seal your fate—"I'll love you," she cries out, "I'll fucking love you forever if you just keep giving me this fucking cock."

It's like the world stops, like everything you've ever wanted is right there in front of you, wrapped up in Natty's tight fucking body.

You're so close, so fucking close, that you can almost taste it—the sweet release of your orgasm; giving in to Natty’s unbelievably sensational cunt sleeving your cock, pulsing with each thrust, desperate to milk you dry.

There’s nothing left to do but give Natty wants. Fuck her, hammer into her so hard that you’re going to fuck a Natty-shaped hole into the mattress, fucking shatter her bedframe, and then keep drilling her straight through the floor.

And she’s crying out your name, forgetting about everything that isn’t you, isn’t your cock, isn’t the dream of your cum filling her to the brim and spilling out of her cunt every single day for the rest of your fucking lives.

“Are you close, baby? Are you going to cum for me? Please, give it to me, I need it so bad, I need it now, because I'm about to, about to, about to—"

And then it happens.

Fucking destroys her.

It hits. A crescendo that peaks as you bottom out inside her, shaking her to the core. Her cunt spasms about you, her body rises off the bed as if you’re performing a fucking exorcism, and she screams your name so loud it’s only a matter of time before the neighbours come banging on her door.

"Oh my fucking god you—"

Natty gushes around your cock, juices running down your shaft, your balls, and she’s squirting. Oh god, she’s squirting all over the fucking place.

Natty’s body goes rigid, her back arching so much it’s like she’s trying to fold in half, crying, sputtering these words that don't even make sense—until you realise she's speaking an entirely different fucking language.

Not that it matters, because you can tell what she's saying, read it in her body, in the way she's spurting and making a big fucking mess beneath your bodies. Whatever she’s saying sounds utterly depraved, filthy and so, so good to your ears.

It keeps going and going, until she has enough sense to speak your language again, needing to make sure you hear it when she says—"fucking fill me, baby," she whimpers. "Give me everything, all your fucking cum."

And it’s your turn to be hit—like a fucking freight train.

You're cumming, hard and fast and out of fucking nowhere. Your balls tighten, your cock throbs, and you’re flooding Natty’s cunt.

It’s biological, in every cell of your body—like your entire being is coming undone, and the only thing holding you together is Natty, Natty, Natty.

Her body shaking beneath you, her cunt contracting around your cock as wave after wave of cum fills her up.

She’s so fucking tight, so fucking perfect, that you can feel every pulse of your orgasm, every drop of your cum spurting into her. You're not sure how long it lasts, how much you give her, but it’s enough to make your muscles shake, enough to knock the architecture right out of your limbs.

"So fucking good, so fucking good," Natty coos. "Fucking finally, finally filling me up so good."

Her moans a lullaby, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body with every syllable. You lean down, burying your face in the crook of her neck, your every inhale and exhale ragged as you try to catch your breath. Still twitching inside her, still releasing the last of your cum, and Natty’s just lying there, her body limp, her eyes closed, basking in it all.

"So perfect," she keeps repeating, right up until the very end, “So, so, perfect.”

You collapse on top of her, just lie there shivering together, your face next to hers. She’s got this look on her face, a victorious glow, and you just have to accept it. Yeah, she’s won again, in devastatingly convincing fashion.

For a second, you’re both just that—spent, exhausted, entirely drained. Like you’ve just run a marathon. Or been in a fight. Or both.

Then Natty’s got the nerve to stir, to kiss your cheek with the tenderness of a whisper. Lips softer than you thought possible, given how hard she’s just been fucking you. And that’s it, the moment your body decides it’s had enough of playing dead, enough of lying there like a sack of potatoes.

You roll over, bringing Natty with you, her body curling into yours like she’s been made to fit there. Her head rests on your chest, her legs entwined with yours, and for a moment, you just hold her close.

It feels fucking right.

"Tomorrow," Natty sighs contentedly, her cheek finding home atop your heartbeat.

You blink. "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, you're moving in tomorrow." Natty’s deciding for you already, setting the dynamic for the rest of your future. Doing all this with her eyes still shut as she snuggles closer to you. "I'll hire the movers."

You sigh, the weight of the world and Natty's body both feeling surprisingly light. You think about the next few days, the weeks, the years even, with Natty. The idea is so ludicrous, so absurd, that it feels like a fever dream.

But as you hold her, feel her warmth, her unabashed, blatant satisfaction, something inside you shifts. A reframing of the concept of Natty that you hold in your head. The thought of her naked body in your bed, her laughter in your living room, her mess in your kitchen—it doesn’t feel like an intrusion, it feels like home.

"Are you sure?" you ask. A little shaky, a little hopeful.

Natty opens one eye to look at you, a laugh playing on her lips. "Oh, you know I'm going to be the worst fucking roommate ever."

"Yeah, I can see that. But as long as you keep being the best fucking everything else..." Your words trail off into a whisper, your hand tracing idle patterns on her back.

And then she says it again.

"You’re so fucking in love with me."

Natty kisses you hard, deep, her tongue sliding against yours. And you know, you fucking know, that she's right. You are desperately, entirely, so fucking in love with her, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

You laugh, the sound a little desperate, a little wild, and roll her again, pin her down again. A strange feeling rushes through your mind. Like you’re going to be repeating this exact same motion for the next hundred years. And somehow, that doesn’t sound like the worst thought in the world.

Natty squeals, cheers, moans when you settle between her legs.

"Fuck you, Natty."

"Oh, baby," Natty giggles, reaching down between your legs, squeezing you. Once. Twice. Until you're filling her hand once more. "That's what I'm here for."

[xxgoldie]

happy little accidents

in which you accidentally send your nudes to lighter, and he definitely feels completely normal about it a/n: pls excuse the random letters that refuse to italicise, tumblr post editor hates me. notes: lighter x fem!reader (reader wears lingerie + one mention of boobs, otherwise pretty gn), mature (MDNI!!!), nudes (duh), mentions of rough sex, mentions of light bondage, kinda accidental voyeurism ig? wc: 1.1k

Y/N: [2 image attachments] what do you think?

A small smile makes its way onto Lighter's face when he saw your name pop up on his phone. Normally, he'd force it away - didn't exactly need people asking who had the Red Scarf grinning at his phone like that - but you'd caught him alone for once, resting on his bed after a long day. So he let himself smile, wondering what you'd sent him this time as he unlocked his phone - maybe pretty photos of the sky, or you were struggling to choose a drink at the convenience store, or you'd impulsively rearranged your room again. Corny as it was, it always made his heart skip a beat that it was him you thought of in those mundane little moments-

His heart skipped a different kind of beat when he opened your message.

Two mirror selfies, one facing forward, one in which you stretched to show your back. In both, you wore nothing but a gorgeous lingerie set, shocking red in lace and satin, a bra and panties and a sinful little garter belt...

In an instant, Lighter's thoughts were spiralling with questions and perverted fantasies. Why on earth were you sending him that? Not that he was complaining - he'd imagined you without your clothes more times than he cared to admit, and this was somehow better than any of his daydreams. Did Knock-Knock send screenshot notifications? Were these photos an invitation? A single word from you and he'd be there - he could fuck you right in front of that mirror, watch the bounce of your pretty ass and the way he'd make your eyes roll at the same time. A quick search told him that no, Knock-Knock didn't send screenshot notifications. Two clicks and the images were in his camera roll, quick future access to his personal slice of heaven. Shit, the red of that lingerie was basically the same shade as his scarf. Had you done that on purpose? You'd look so good in just that set and the scarf around your neck. Or he could tie it around your wrists, keep your hands attached to the bed as he pounded you into the mattress. Fuck, he should probably respond. What was he meant to say? Should he tell you what he was thinking about? That he was imagining taking you from behind, those crimson panties pulled to the side, no way he'd take them off when you'd dressed up so pretty for him-

Y/N: HOLY SHIT WRONG PERSON I'M SO SORRY

Okay. Maybe not for him.

For the second time in as many minutes, you sent Lighter's thoughts spiralling. Who did you intend to send those photos to if not him? Not that he expected you to send him raunchy photos, but he didn't think you were seeing anyone. He liked to think you'd have told him, even if it wasn't serious. Had he overestimated how close you were? Or was there some other reason - did you not think he'd approve? Well, not that Lighter would truly approve of any partner that wasn't himself, but you didn't know that. As long as they treated you well, he would be happy for you. Did they not treat you well? The mere thought had him clenching his fists with the sudden desire to throttle someone. And the tent in his pants wasn't exactly helping him clear his head, especially when the beautiful cause for it was still on his screen. And the intended recipient of those photos was the nameless, faceless mystery he was in the mood to throttle.

Crap. He still hadn't responded to you. You probably thought he'd left you on read.

Y/N: i meant to ask lucy for advice on the set ur names are next to each other i'm so sorry again, u did not need to see that

Right. Lucy often gave you advice on clothes - on the times you joined him in the city, you were constantly texting her pictures of clothes you saw in shop windows, wondering if you should buy them. And it made sense - the fact he got a full view of your body between the two photos was just a heavenly side effect of you trying to show both sides of the set. This didn't mean there wasn't someone else in mind with the lingerie, but at least you hadn't meant to send those photos to some asshole who you couldn't even tell him about.

But, more pressingly, he still had to respond. You'd sent Lighter six messages now, and he'd opened them immediately and not said anything the whole time. Not even typing. Just staring at the photos of your boobs like the lovestruck, horny idiot he was. He told himself to get a grip.

He had to be chill about it. He could tell you were freaking out a little on the other end of the phone - he just had to let you know it was okay, that you hadn't made anything weird. Without any hints to the fact he was picturing every possible dirty scenario that involved you, him and that pretty lace.

you're all good, don't stress about it

Shit. That came out way too dismissive. He should have addressed the situation more. Or would that be weird? Lighter was struck by the realisation that, for maybe the first time ever, he had no idea what to say to you. Words always flowed with you, even when you had his heart thumping in his chest; conversation had always been as easy as breathing. Though, to be totally fair, this whole situation was making breathing a bit more difficult too.

Y/N: thank u T^T this is so embarrassing fr

The message had served its purpose, at least. The two of you could move on with your lives. But there was still that itch he couldn't scratch; the guilt of enjoying the accident so much without you knowing, coupled with a desperate feeling that an opportunity was passing him by.

Lighter's fingers were flying across the keyboard in an instant, lurid compliments backspaced and overcorrected with praise that was far too chaste for the situation, then back in the other direction. He couldn't exactly tell you that he was thinking about fucking you so hard you'd leave scratches down his back the same beautiful scarlet as your bra, but calling pictures like that 'cute' would probably be insulting. The respectful balance he was looking for seemed just out of reach.

Eventually, he settled on something, finger hovering over the send button a little too long until he muttered a quick "fuck it", sending the message before the inevitable panic could set in.

if it's not weird to say, you look gorgeous in it

bonus!!

lighter's the kind of guy to send a risky text and immediately throw his phone into a river bc he got nervous abt how you'd respond

[to-thelakes]

heard ( carmy berzatto x reader )

content warnings; depiction of panic attack and anxiety, mentions of suicide/death (mikey), reader gets a cut (but super minor)

summary; you've had a really overwhelming day and carmy has to calm you down from a panic attack he mostly caused

dropping this here and running, i'm in love with carmy berzatto, i'm so sorry

Working at the Beef was stressful. Usually, you didn’t mind. In fact, you loved it. The stress meant that you didn’t have time to overthink anything because you were being ordered to do a million things all at once. It was good. You loved it.

But not today. 

Carmy had given you a new recipe to learn and you were fucking up creating the pea puree. Somehow it always ended up too runny and no matter how you changed the temperature while you cooked or how long you left it to reduce, it turned out like shit. Runny, tasteless shit.

It was like the universe had decided to take a cosmic shit on your already fucked up day.

You had left the house at the ass crack of dawn and unintentionally woken up your roommate who had decided to call you and berate you for your entire journey on the L. It’s safe to say you were regretting your 12 month lease with the roommate from hell. But you tried your best to swallow down all the cruel words and carry on with your day.

Work had always been a good distraction but it was two hours till service started and you felt like you were already losing it. You were sure everyone could see how you were cracking under the pressure too.

As you tried to learn the new dish, Carmen would come over every five or so minutes to check on your progress, taste the dish and you could see him getting increasingly frustrated under the surface. 

He had been unusually calm since the start of the day but the cracks were beginning to show. Since everyone had come in, Marcus had been distracted by his desserts which meant he had ignored all his usual prepwork. Carmy had kindly tried to remind him that desserts was not his job yet. Then Sydney and Richie had been arguing all morning which Carmy, of course, found himself in the middle of that. 

On top of that, Richie had decided that today was the perfect day to bring up how Carmy shouldn’t have even owned this place. That it was Richie’s place and just because Mikey had left it to him didn’t mean shit.

That had riled Carmy up and the two had a screaming match in the front room before Carmy came stalking back through to the office. You knew that if you fucked up on more attempt at this sauce, he was gonna lose his shit at you. 

You had never been at the receiving end of his anger before so you knew that if he lost it, so would you.

So as you fired up the next attempt, you replayed every piece of advice that Carmy and Sydney had given you since the start of the day and tried your best. You really tried. Even if T had distracted you halfway through, you thought that the puree had come out perfect.

And you were relieved. Because in your attempt to create this dish, you had forgotten about the rest of your prep work. 

“Fuck,” You cursed under your breathe as you noticed Carmy heading your way. You knew that you were about to be shouted at, you could just tell, and you could feel the anxiety rising in your chest. You had just finished plating your latest attempt and the puree seemed to be at the right consistency. Hell, it even looked good. Your station was spotless and clean. There was nothing Carmen could be mad about.

Except for no prep work. 

You glared at the plastic tubs of veggies like they could have done anything to change your fate.

“How's it looking, Chef?” Carmy asked, a frustrated edge to his voice. You snapped your head towards him and forced a smile onto your face. The tension in the room seemed to increase ten fold at that action.

“Pretty sure I finally got it down, just need to finish prepping the veg and then I’m ready for service,” You responded, forcing a smile onto your face. Carmy nodded and you passed him a fork, slipping away to the box of veggies. This was probably going to take you until dinner service.

You really fucked up but you ignored the anxious feeling in your gut in favour of beginning your prepwork. With a knife in hand, you quickly began to chop. You were skilled with a knife. That had been the main thing you were good at, something that Carmen had praised you endlessly for in the few weeks he had been here.

So, you hoped that if you just got the prep done quickly and perfectly, it would alleviate some of the simmering anger.

But then you heard a fork clatter harshly against a plate and you whipped your head to look at him. There was no alleviating the anger now. He was a powder keg about to explode and you had just triggered it..

“It’s a simple fucking dish, Chef! How do you keep fucking this up?” He shouted as he stared at you. You were looking back down at your prepwork again, going back to chopping. He slammed his hand on the counter, “Hey!” The whole kitchen’s eyes were on you now, “Look at me when I’m talking to you,” He snapped. You stopped dead in your tracks, looked at him, wide-eyed. He had caught you off guard and that pissed him off even more, “It’s a fucking pea puree. I could make this when I was 12 and you still can’t get it fucking right! It’s so fucking simple. Do I need to fucking baby you through every step? Jesus fucking Christ! A toddler could do this better than you can and you’ve been at it for fucking four fucking hours. Stop wasting everyone’s time and if you can’t get it right then get the fuck out!” He snapped. You blinked at him, frozen to your spot, “Don’t just fucking stand there, get to work!” He slammed his hand on the side again.

You nodded, mumbled “Yes, Chef” and went back to prepping your veg as Carmy picked up your plate and threw the attempt at the dish in the bin. You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying not to feel the overwhelming anxiety that was making you dizzy. You couldn’t breathe.

Your whole body felt like it was on high alert, ready to give up at any given moment. You tried to suck in deep breaths but suddenly the kitchen felt too hot. You couldn’t do this. Sydney noticed.

“Go take a breather, I got this,” She came up beside you, hand on your shoulder. You shook your head, not wanting to disappoint Carmen even more. Prepwork was where you excelled, this is what you did best. You didn’t trust yourself to speak though, you could feel your chest restricting.

You continued chopping, it became more frenzy-like as Sydney glanced around. The whole kitchen had watched your interaction with Carmy, unsure how to react to it. Sydney didn’t know what to say.

But then you sliced your finger. You were moving too quickly, mind not being able to catch up with your hand quick enough to avoid the slice. You cried out as your knife clattered to the chopping board. You grabbed tissue and quickly wrapped it up as you stepped back.

“Go get a plaster, I’ll finish your prep,” Sydney reiterated as she gently pushed you away from your station. You shook your head, desperately trying to keep up. You couldn’t but then you felt the ground feel like it was tilting under your feet.

Maybe she was right. You needed to get out and so you went straight for the backdoor. You didn’t even bother to clean up your cut, just holding the tissue to it as you stumbled down the steps to the alley. 

Your back slammed against the wall as you sucked in breaths but it was like you couldn’t get enough oxygen. The tears started and you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t do it. You slowly slid down the wall, still squeezing the tissue over your cut. 

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t do it. You were doomed to be a failure and you couldn’t fucking breathe and it was too hot.

Your arms wrapped over the top of your head, eyes squeezed shut as you desperately tried to take in deep breaths but you couldn’t. You just couldn’t. You were sure you were going to die like this. It would be the end of you.

In the fucking back alley of a shitty restauraunt with a shitty new owner and the last owner killed himself and you weren’t surprised. You couldn’t do this. You were choking on nothing.

Then a hand suddenly came to rest against your knee and your legs were being pushed down. You were trying to fight it, words of whoever it was coming through like they were trying to speak through water.

“You gotta breathe,” They said as they finally managed to break through your strength to straighten your legs out. You dropped your hands to your lap and when you looked up, Carmy was there. You felt the panic come back twice as hard and you turned your face away, bringing your knees back up. But he shoved them back down.

“Hey, hey,” His tone had softened. It didn’t seem as angry anymore and that terrified you. Angry men who pretended not to be were the worst kind of men. You still couldn’t breathe, the panic constricting your chest as you stared at your legs, “You gotta just breathe,” Carmy said as he reached out. He grabbed your hand, the bloody tissue still wrapped around your cut, “I know it’s hard,” He said as he glanced at your face. You were completely boneless, it was like your body had lost all its will to live.

Your world was tilting underneath you and you couldn’t think straight. Carmy’s touch was somewhat grounding though as he unwrapped the tissue and wiped the cut before putting a band-aid over it. It gave you something to focus on but you were terrified that he was going to scream at you.

“I’m sorry,” You managed through panicked breaths. He nodded, “I don’t know what’s wrong,” You choked out. The tears filling your eyes as you stared down at your bandaged hand. You still weren’t breathing right but the panic was slowly starting to fall away, “I keep trying but I can’t do anything right today,” You lifted your knees up again, wrapping your arms around your head again.

“You're constricting your throat,” He said as he nudged your knees again. He was sitting against the wall beside you, watching you. 

As frustrated as he was with you and as angry as he was that you couldn’t just make the fucking dish, he also didn’t like seeing you like this. He cared about everyone in his kitchen and the thought that he had given you a panic attack tore him up inside. He didn’t know how to express it. He had always been shit at apologies.

You straightened your knees out again, letting your arms rest against your thighs as you closed your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Chef,” You said after a beat, “I know I should have done my veg prep earlier and the recipe is easy. I’ve made pea puree before, ask Sydney, I just- I don’t know why I can’t get it right today,” You muttered. Carmy looked at you, the corners of his lips turned down a little and you looked so defeated, “I’ve been off my game and I have this roommate from Hell that makes me think I’m so goddamn selfish. I just,” You let out a ragged breathe, tears welling in your eyes, “I promise, I’ll be good for dinner service,” you muttered. Carmy looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed ever-so-slightly.

“You’re not selfish,” Carmy responded. 

“Heard,” You muttered. He nodded and then turned back to look up at the sky, as did you. It was so strange with Carmy. He never really said much. He’d been here for about a month now and he was desperately trying to claw the business out of the ground. He seemed to care so much but he had an odd way of showing it, I suppose.

“I’ll show you how to make it again,” He said after a minute or two of silence. You nodded.

“Thank you.” You let out a soft breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. You hadn’t fucked up that much, at least.

“You two fuckers just gonna sit there or help us?” The voice of Richie broke through the relative calm that had settled between you. It was probably the quickest you had come down from a panic attack, ever.

“Like you fucking help us anyway,” You bit back as you slowly pushed yourself to your feet. Carmy was quick to follow.

“Doing a lot more than you lazy fucks right now, sat there staring at the sky like God’s gonna answer your fucking prayers,” Richie continued to bitch as you walked inside with him. Carmy followed quickly after.

“I don’t pray," You stated as you rounded the corner back to your station. Sydney was mostly done with your prep now and you were beyond thankful, “I got it from here,” You said, slipping in next to her. Sydney smiled, glad to see you feeling a bit better.

“Why’s he so calm?” Sydney asked as she watched Carmy walk past. He seemed in a better mood than he had been a moment ago.

“Fuck knows, thought he’d tell me to fuck off when he found me,” You admitted as you glanced back at him. His fucking arms drove you wild and the fact that he had his hands on you, forcing you to straighten your legs. Fuck. You didn’t want to think about it too much. And he had put that plaster on you, the warmth of his hands was something else. If you hadn’t been so fucked up with anxiety, you probably would have jumped his bones.

“You gonna fuck up another dish?” Sydney teased as she stepped away, passing you a glove for your plastered hand. 

“I’m getting a private lesson for it actually,” You retorted, a smile plastered on your face as you winked at Sydney.

“Less talking, more chopping,” Carmy said as he slipped past the two of you. You nodded.

“Yes, Chef,” You both parotted back to him. Sydney grinned and headed back to her station while you settled back into prep. You felt more like yourself now. Though, you did also really want a piece of Carmy.

[sunderwight]

disciple luo binghe, running errands for his shizun one day, somehow manages to be in the exact wrong (right) place at the exact wrong (right) time and catches shang qinghua meeting with mobei jun

in order to keep luo binghe from tattling right away, shang qinghua dissembles in a panic and claims that his clandestine meetings with mobei jun are happening because they're lovers and definitely not because shang qinghua is betraying the sect and handing their secrets over to demons in order to save his own hide. when that almost doesn't work, he also tells luo binghe that he knows he's part demon, and that if luo binghe rats him out then shang qinghua will take him down with him. mutually assured destruction

it works, and even though luo binghe threatens him quite a bit (jeez kid calm down, you might be the almighty protagonist but also you're like sixteen) he agrees to keep shang qinghua's fraternizing a secret. but if ANYTHING BAD should happen to the sect or especially to luo binghe's shizun because of this, luo binghe will take shang qinghua down even if it does ruin his life too

shang qinghua, now sweating even more bullets about the impending immortal alliance conference: cool! cool cool cool sounds great cool yeah

so shang qinghua can add "being blackmailed by the punk ass brat I sort of created" to his list of stress-inducing woes. which gets even worse when luo binghe keeps somehow sensing if mobei jun is around for more than a couple hours and showing up, and picking fights with him?? kind of??

wtf has the protagonist been taking tips from liu qingge or something...?

shang qinghua feels like he's gonna have a heart attack when mobei jun just snorts and tosses luo binghe by the scruff like he's an annoying yappy dog

mobei jun actually knows what's up though. teenage half-demon who has never been around his own kind has become spoiled by the lack of competition on this front, and now his hackles are all up because he wants to claim the whole mountain range as his territory, and his instincts are screaming at him to challenge mobei jun about it so that they can decide who is actually top dog. since mobei jun could easily kill him, especially with his blood sealed, and has been clawing rocks and pissing on trees along the borders of an ding peak since before luo binghe was born, he's clearly got seniority here

and since qinghua doesn't want mobei jun to just kill the little shit (fair enough -- that sealed bloodline does look kind of interesting) that means it's up to mobei jun to teach him how to do things like interact with other demons without making a complete fool of himself. lesson one: what to do when you challenge someone out of your league and they win, assuming they don't just kill you

so luo binghe reluctantly gains another demon tutor

meng mo actually approves. he's been out of the loop on demon high society for a long time, and has lacked a body for long enough too that he's forgotten a lot of the particulars of socializing. it'll be good for luo binghe to pick up some manners that aren't just silly human tea ceremonies and things. maybe he'll start addressing meng mo more respectfully for a change!

(lol no)

luo binghe is partly like "I don't need to learn demon social skills since I'm spending the rest of my life as a disciple of qing jing peak" but partly like, well, if shizun knew about this and didn't freak out about it, he'd probably say that knowledge is power and learning how to handle politics and diplomacy of all kinds is important. and despite himself luo binghe is also interested, because this is a whole perspective on his own nature that he's never really gotten advice about

also, mobei jun is the lover of shang qinghua? mobei jun is a demon who successfully seduced a cang qiong peak lord? does he have any advice about that?

(he does -- all of it very bad)

anyway all of this sort of fucks up the immortal alliance conference developments really good, so the system kind of gives up and settles on some other big transformative achievements that luo binghe has to complete in order to be suitably heroic

but shen qingqiu has no idea and so the reprieve just seems to come out of nowhere until several years later, when he walks in on luo binghe with his claws out and huadian gleaming in the company the demon king of the northern desert, the two of them playing weiqi or something while they wait for shang qinghua to get back from some random logistics crisis he had to rush off to

shen qingqiu: ...?!?

luo binghe, panicking: wait shizun I can explain it's not what it looks like SHIZUN I SWEAR I WAS GOING TO TELL YOU PLEASE DON'T BE MAD--!

shen qingqiu: all this time I thought you were sneaking out to meet a girl, and this was what you were doing instead?!

luo binghe: WHAT?? shizun no I'd never do that I swear I don't even like girls!

shen qingqiu: that's not -- wait what do you mean you don't even like girls?!

mobei jun, unperturbed and still focused on the weiqi board: he's gay

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Squeaky Clean 4

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You start work as a maid but you’re not prepared for the mess your client brings with him. (maid AU – plus!reader)

Note: yeah…

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A yawn strains your cheeks but you lock it behind your lips. Your eyes water with the constant glaze of fatigue. It could be the work; it’s a lot more physical than you expected, or it could be your usual insomniac tendencies. Whatever it is, doesn’t matter. You just need to get through the day. 

You drizzle the tub cleaner around the brim of the porcelain and watch it trickle down. There’s a hint of something scented still in the air. You note the bag of epsom salts on the little shelf. You guess Steve took your advice. 

As you wait for the grime dissolver to do its thing, you turn and wipe down the thing, working methodically around the toothbrush holder and the white cup. You even clean the mirror, making sure not to miss a single inch. If you keep your hands moving, you don’t fixate on how dull this all is. 

You grab your sponge and turn to crank on the faucet. You bend over the tub and set to work. Your shirt presses to the brim and you feel the moisture seep through to your stomach. You use the running water to scrub the cleaner to suds. The scent roils in the air. 

You reach to the other side, one hand on the edge as you strain. You push your toes into the bathmat to extend further. As you feel you might tip into the deep basin, a firm weight settles along your hips and keeps you steady. You kick your feet into the floor as your head snaps up. 

You squeeze the sponge in your fist and lean it against the opposite wall. You twist to see over your shoulder, squirming as Steve stands behind you, holding you as you sputter dumbly. What is he doing? 

“You looked like you needed help?” He grins. 

Your mind and heart race, competing to the panic line. What the hell? You want to yell at him to get off but your caution chokes the protest from you. As much as he’s overstepping, you need the job. Your landlord doesn’t care that the market is shit, he just wants his money. 

“I’m... fine,” you eke out. 

“You sure?” He asks. 

“Yeah, er,” you nudge his fingers with your yellow glove as you turn back to your task. “I’m sure.” 

“Well, let me know,” he loosens his grip and drags it around to your lower back. His touch sends a shiver through you. He draws away and the warm lingers there, another spatter as suddenly a clap stings across your ass. 

You grunt and keep yourself steady with the hand pressed to the wall. Your eyes widen in disbelief. Steve hums as his footsteps softly retreat. You shudder as you stare at the ivory tile embossed with lilies. He didn’t just... 

You scrub in circles as you wade through the shock of the encounter, trying to convince yourself it didn’t happen. You still feel the impact hot against your jeans. You rinse the tub out and stand. Maybe it’s from bending over for so long or the cleaner but you’re dizzy. 

You finish up the bathroom but can’t make yourself leave. Where is he? Is he hiding? Does he realise what he did? Is he embarrassed? 

Alright, you guess you can talk to Jan at the agency and get this sorted out. Yeah, you need a new client. This one isn’t working out. You gather up the cleaners and tiptoe out of the room. You stop short as you near your kit by the shoe mat. He can hear you. He has super hearing, right? 

You’re further shaken by the reminder of his superiority. Before, you only thought of the disparity of your bank accounts, you hadn’t even considered the most obvious disadvantage. More than just the physical. He is Captain America. 

Would he notice if you left early? He could report you first if he did. Then you’re the one getting dumped, not him. Between the two of you, he’d be the one they’d want to keep. You’re just another cleaner. You can be replaced. 

So get through it and hope you can get a new placement. Hopefully closer to home. Or maybe further. Anywhere, really. 

You wade through the townhouse warily. You wipe down the dining table as your mind wanders away. The table presses into your tummy. You look down and retract. Would anyone believe you? You’re nothing special. Steve Rogers wouldn’t waste his time on you. I mean, he works with Black Widow and have you seen her in a body suit? 

Stop. Focus. Just get it done. 

You continue your usual path through the house. Knocking on each door, checking that each room is empty before you tend to it. As you find each vacant, your dread builds. You’re not so sure he’s hiding from you out of shame now. It’s starting to feel like a game. Like he’s taunting you. 

As you return to the entry way to grab your vacuum and do your final walkthrough, you stop just before the banister post. You stare at the broad set of shoulders as they slowly turn to you. You swallow and clutch the cloth in your hand tight as Steve turns to you in full regalia. 

Cowl, suit, shield. He’s dressed to the nines in his Cap attire. It doesn’t look as campy as on the television. You can see the intricacy of the armour along his gauntlets and the way it lines his ribs just so, alluding to the wall of muscle beneath. That's what he is in that moment, a barrier. The door is behind him. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” his jaw looks sharper as the top of his face is hidden under the cowl. “Looking for something?” 

You shake and point to the vacuum. He turns and looks around, grabbing the vacuum by the hose and dragging it around. He raises the flat end and wiggles it toward you. 

“There you go,” his eyes shine through the cowl. 

You shuffle forward and reach for the body of the vacuum. You squeak as he stops you by poking the vacuum nozzle against your chest. You flinch and reel back. He jabs until you’re walking backwards. You squeeze the cloth in your hand until your knuckles hurt. 

You hit the banister post and stare at him dumbly. He pushes the flat attachment down so you feel your chest bulge around it. His eyes follow and he lightly jiggles you with the plastic end. You grab it instinctively to stop him. 

“Steve,” you hiss. 

He chuckles and flips the end free of your grasp. He taps your chin, just enough to make you flinch, and you recoil, showing your hands defencelessly. The cloth drops to the floor as he raises your head with the firm prod of the vacuum. 

“They won’t believe you. Captain’s got a lot more going on than whoever’s scrubbing his toilet,” he steps closer, towering over you. You glower up at him, stomach roiling with disgust. “But hey, Stark’s got attorneys on retainer. He owes me one.” 

Your lip trembles helplessly and you shake your head. “Why--” 

He tuts and taps your chin again, quieting you. His smile remains as he leans in and brings his other hand up, tugging at the top of your shirt until he exposes your cleavage. You press yourself against the banister and whimper. 

“Because I can,” he snaps the tension in your collar before letting go. “But the good cap’s gotta go save the world before he gets his prize.” He backs up and once more offers up the vacuum hose, “and you gotta make sure he comes home to a nice clean house. Like a good girl.” 

You grab the hose and he keeps hold of it. You hold his gaze as the urge to rip it away and swat him shakes in your grip. He snickers again. You won’t win this battle. 

“Tell Jan I say ‘hi’ and I’ll have that client survey done soon,” he lets go and turns away with a sigh. He turns to the door and puts his hands out, cupping them emphatically as he looks from one to the other. “You sure are a handful.” 

[pupyuj]

[cw: g!p liz, pregnancy, breeding kink, lactation kink]

i wasn’t meant to write anything for this bcs i was literally just sitting eating breakfast this morning when the thought of baby daddy jiwon graced my brain and i laughed at it for a second but then it got serious so now ya’ll have to indulge me bcs??? 🤤🤤 also not me saying that that one baby daddy yuj was the only time i’ll write abt pregnancy and yet here we are…

kinda long bcs i rlly loved the fluffy stuff so hehe have fun 💖

we’re all thinking about the same thing, right? your chaotic mess of a girlfriend jiwon feeling as if her whole world was turned upside down when you sit her down and give her the news in the morning where the two of you were supposed to go on a cute picnic date 😭 you can’t tell me she wouldn’t sit there for at least half an hour taking everything in, merely just staring at the wall with her mouth hanging open for so long you thought it would get stuck that way 😭😭 and ykw you were worried for a bit!! the two of you certainly didn’t plan on this happening and this was the clear result of both of you forgetting to use protection that one night where you were just eager to feel the other’s skin,, you half expected jiwon to be angry and lash out at you but no! ofc weird ass jiwon takes a deep breath before pulling you up to your feet and hugging you 🥺

she figured that the news was even harder on you since you were the one carrying the kid,, and being the amazing girlfriend she was, she prioritized your feelings over her own,, comforting you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear when you broke down in her arms not bcs you were upset abt being pregnant or anything but bcs you were just relieved that jiwon wasn’t going to abandon you 🥺🥺 and you’d still go on that picnic date with her! it would be awkward at first but best believe she’s promising to be there for you and with you every step of the way whether or not you decide to keep the baby 🥹💞

i believe in the ‘jiwon would be a wonderful soon-to-be-daddy’ agenda! due to her genuine fear of fucking shit up, she’d probably read countless parenting books 😭😭 sure she knew how to take care of a little kid or two but not a baby! let alone one that she made! she’s reading books, getting ahead of the game and researching and possibly buying all the stuff your kid needs, asking her parents for advice… jiwonie just wants to be the perfect partner and parent 🥺💕 you’d find her in the kitchen one day practicing how to make milk—as in making sure it’s the correct temperature and that it tastes good.. don’t ask her how many times she has actually finished a whole tiny bottle of baby milk 😭😭

and now to the nasty parts! ☺️ if i remember correctly i said this same thing about baby daddy yuj (🤤… sorry—) but jiwonie would sometimes find herself staring at you and thinking back to the night she got you knocked up! it would be worse with her though—unlike yujin’s massive ego showoff, she’s more… dreamy about it? 😭 like she’s really basking in every detail of that night from the stumbling-into-your-bedroom shit while giggling, practically ripping each other’s clothes off while making out, jiwon surprising you with her hidden strength when she suddenly just pushes you into the bed and quite literally gives you the best fucking of your life?? all that of that along with seeing that growing bump in your stomach and your now swollen tits heavy with milk, well… nobody can blame jiwon from getting hard on the spot!

also becomes a clingy perv 🤤🤤 obsessed with backhugging you randomly and kissing your neck bcs it makes you giggle bcs ur ticklish and she loves hearing you laugh BUT ALSO you whimper and get goosebumps all over your skin so it just… turns her on so much 🫣 loves caressing your little baby bump while she half listens to you yap about your day and half touches you all over 😳 you don’t notice what she’s doing until one of her hands is squeezing your inner thigh and the other is making its way up to your breasts,, “our kid’s very lucky.. they have the prettiest mom in the whole world.” and she’s leaving marks all over your neck and shoulder while she feels up your soaked panties… 🫣🫣

jiwon’s a love-maker so expect to be gently fucked while standing by the sink! has definitely memorized each and every spot that has you scratching her arms and curling your toes so you were just completely at her mercy the entire time! the contrast of jiwon telling you the sweetest and prettiest things in your ear while she softly fucks you into an orgasm that has you seeing white?? see, she’s all hot and sexy while fucking you but then you turn around after getting situated and you see a wet spot in the middle of her pants.. even she would laugh and cover up her red face 😭 but she can’t help it okay?! it’s totally normal for someone to cum while fucking their partner.. jiwon just happened to be so stinking cute while doing so that you can’t help but take her to bed afterwards 🤭

now as we’ve established before, jiwon’s always taking care of you and that pretty much tripled every time you wanted to do something ‘drastic’ in terms of sex!☝️ jiwon is always careful when in bed with you, only choosing positions that were safe and comfortable for you even if they weren’t for her! even if you have her rolling her eyes to the back of her head while you ride her, jiwon’s still looking out for you! whether it may be asking if you’re okay, if anything hurts, or just singing your praises to ease you 🥺🥺

jiwon’s so weak against dirty talk too?? 😭 especially when you tell her you want to make a big family with her bcs she knows that means you want her to get you pregnant over and over and yk what that does to her brain?? it almost literally shuts it down bcs she gets sooo turned on at the idea 😵‍💫 sometimes she even thinks about it when she’s cleaning up the house or at work and has to run to the bathroom bcs her fucking cock just wants to burst out of her pants 😭 baby can’t control it, she always needs you :((

ah yeah and the moment your tits start leaking?? it’s so over bcs you’d think that jiwon wouldn’t get even more obsessed with you than she already is but you’re so wrong‼️‼️ teases you and calls you ‘mommy’ a lot while licking and sucking away at your breasts.. and eye contact is a must bcs she loves the flush on your cheeks as you watched her lap all of your milk up! 🫣 and she definitely makes a joke abt being the one to drink your breastmilk if your kid ever gets tired of it but the two of you know damn well it’s not just a joke 🤭 jiwon also loves massaging your breasts to ease the tension in your shoulders and god her dick just gets so fucking hard when she feels her hands get wet w your milk 😵‍💫

in all of your years dating jiwon you never could have guessed that there was a gentlewoman in her! definitely the perfect balance of being a good mommy and a very charming daddy 🥺🥺 speaking of which, her knees turn into jelly whenever you ‘jokingly’ call her ‘daddy’ in and out of bed 🫣 she’s the cutest baby daddy ever 💕

[weyounbathwater]

A donkey with a man's name was found playing poker call that a card ass ian lmaoo wait whats happ

3 notes

🪱 trillcore Follow

Guys, that same admirer left me another bouquet of Kilmarian daisies in my quarters <3

#personal #dax rambles #wishing for her

32 notes

⚜️ kaiwinning Follow

Gentle reminder that your pagh femininity can be damaged by engaging in unclean behaviors, such as violence, contact sports, rectal copulation, and real person shipping. Please stay vigilant and protect your pagh in the name of the Prophets!

#kai speaks #religion #the prophets #pagh #pagh hacks

98 notes

⚾ captainsiskoofficial Follow

So, was anyone going to inform me that someone installed this ancient program onto the station's computer, or did everyone assume that I would eventually learn from Jake?

9 notes

🛸 nogging5 🔁 jakeykeykey Follow

📰 jakeykeykey Follow

🛸 nogging5 Follow

Jake, I'm starting to worry about your obsession with "ancient" humor....

544 notes

🛠️ chiefengineer1 🔁 moremorn Follow

🍺 moremorn Follow

🛠️ chiefengineer1 Follow

How are you doing that?

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💲 sponsored

COME TO QUARK'S, QUARK'S IS FUN! COME TO QUARK'S, DO ...

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🍞 bababariel Follow

It seems as though I have returned, but as an entity inside the station computer.

#there are a lot of us in here

99 notes

🐊 cardassianpride Follow

Vent. Don't reblog.

#How long has my ex wife been sleeping with my guls?! #I just caught her doing it with the new recruit #and she tried to tell me this shit about how since I do it all the #time then she can do it too? #and I tried to explain but she just said that we aren't #married anymore so I can't tell her what to do #the state of the cardassian family is in fucking pieces #cardassia is doomed in the hands of women like these #ugh I need to call *** ***** to feel better #vent

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💴 finance-advice Follow

To the last anon: no, the Grand Nagus will not give personal advice to anyone who makes under four million slips of latinum per fiscal year. This was outlined in the Nagus' own rulebook in volume 3, section 387, paragraph 910. You would know this if you had done your own research. Stop asking for more clarification or you will be audited.

#finance #commerce #cw audit #mod b

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🍾 kanar-gul Follow

Repair station pussy really hit different

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🐊 cardassianpride 🔁 cardassianpride Follow

All of these beautiful bajoran women ready to serve the state make me fit to burst 😍😍😍

🐊 cardassianpride Follow

WRONG BLOG WRONG BLOG WRONG BLOG

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🍞 bababariel 🔁 quarkeyyy Follow

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Hello, friends! What a wonderful opportunity for me to introduce myself using this, delightful, quaint social media experience! Let me, as the first Dominion representative on this platform, extend my warm welcome to the citizens of the Alpha Quadrant!

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[hidtired]

Unfortunate Timing [Part 2]

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: You found out your pregnant early into your relationship with Daryl Dixon. To make matters worse? The apocalypse happens a few days later! (not fully canon)

4.2k words

Warnings (Pregnancy, gore, abuse, violence, fluff, walking dead stuff, ect.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 etc.

A single moment can change your life, change the world. Everything only seemed to get worse. The quarry was a group of survivors that had formed. You and the Dixons were outcasts, at least it felt like it. The girls seemed to see you in low regard being pregnant. The men were no better. They saw you as a burden. The feeling of people talking behind your back stressed you out. Being pregnant also didn’t help. You felt tired all the time, also being plagued with morning sickness. Which is a stupid name when it happens all day. Throwing up in a world were food is now limited also leaves you uneasy.

You also see that stress weighing on Daryl. It wasn’t long ago he struggled with the fact of having a kid. Now seemed even more terrifying. He was becoming short tempered, to his credit only snapping at you once but regretted the way he almost made you cry. “No! I won’t take a break I have to keep going out there for food! You’ve been throwing up half the shit I’ve already gotten for you!”

He didn’t mean for it to sound like your wrong for doing so, he knew you couldn’t help it. He saw the glassy film come to the corner of your eyes. His heart tugged. You were in your tent you shared, sat on the sleeping bag with your head shamefully down. “No, no. Come on…” he angled your face back up to met his. He sank to his knees in front of you. “I know you can’t help it. M’ just trying to say you need more. I just want to make sure you’re gettin enough.” You had asked him to stay because he was rarely around. He was out alone looking for food and you couldn’t help but see every time he came back a little more on edge. He was getting into his head to much out there.

He knows you’re having a hard time. With being pregnant at this moment in time how could you not. You had tried to talk to the mothers of the camp for advice on anything, they didn’t bat an eye to you. You had looked for support and were denied it. He saw that you were being treated like a Dixon. Something he was familiar with, and something Merle also understood. Merle became more chill around you. No more sexual comments or sexist remarks. Doesn’t mean he is any less better to be around. He treated you like a sister you thought. He still was an ass. Making mean comments or complaining about something you did. But he had become family.

Andrea was your biggest pain. She seemed like she had something to prove. She hated the traditional female roles that had been pushed onto the girls. You understood her disliking for Merle but she attached that to Daryl and you as well. She didn’t say outright mean things but subtle jabs. Week after week it was chipping at your demeanor.

So here you are now, you think almost 3 months pregnant. Seeing Daryl was the highlight of whenever he appeared. You sat in your tent with him getting ready for his 2 day hunting trip for a deer he knew was near by. He sighed feeling your eyes on him, “Yer breakin my heart with that look.” Your smiling face replacing your sulking one, “I’m just missing you already.” You stood up, “You should see something before you go.” He turned to you questioningly. You pulled your shirt up over your stomach and turned to the side, “I know I haven’t seen myself in a mirror for a while but, I think I’m showing?” You looked up from your little bump that you could see spotting the surprised face he was making. He gulped before talking, “Ya sure are…” he walked closer placing a hand to your tummy. You saw his teeth were clenched. He felt the weight of pressure crushing him,

“We are doing are best, that’s all I could ask from you.”

He left for his hunt a little less stressed. You also saw Merle off later into the day with the first group run to the city. “Hey do me a favor and don’t get yourself killed.” Merle turned to you, “And have those freaks naw on m' sweet ass?” You chuckle as you walk away, “Let’s just hope you remember your ass from your elbow!”

The day progress like any other. It had just become the afternoon when the sound of the radio chirped on. It cause some disagreement about making a sign to warn others about the city. You just went back to minding your own business. You helped boil water taking notice of Lori trimming her son’s hair. You spoke up noticing the displeased look on Carl's face, “Going for a mohawk Carl? Or maybe you’re thinking bald.” His nose scrunched up at the thought. You laugh at the reaction, “Bald people run faster.” Carl smiled, “Nuh-uh!” You shook your head and shrugged, “How do you know if you won’t try.” He looked to his mom, “I’d rather have hair than be faster!” He said it to his mom like he tried convincing her to not make him bald. Lori smiled at her son, “Ya me to, but if you keep moving you might be bald at the end of this.” He straightened and stilled, but he still spoke, “I hate haircuts…”

Shane came and sat down looking at you briefly. “One of these days you’ll be missing your mother’s hair cuts.” Carl rolled his eyes, "I'd like to see that day!" It had initially shocked you that Shane wasn’t Carl's dad. You always assumed for how close they were and how often they would walk into the woods together. Then it put a gross feeling into your mouth that his father had only recently died. Shane was his apparent best friend and coworker. But it wasn’t necessarily wrong, you just didn’t like to think about it often.

After finishing with boiling water you handed it to Carol. You felt sweaty and all around unpleasant. You needed a nap. You said to Carol that you were going to lay down if they needed to find you. You woke up to arguing. The group that went out had radioed saying there was a problem. Everyone was scared for their respective family that had gone to the city. You felt a pit form in your stomach. The hormones in your body already swarming causing you to be unable to control them. You picture what happened to your Aunt in front of you. Sometimes it still feels as if the blood was still on your face. The thought of knowing she was one of those things walking around somewhere. Maybe they all were already dead like her. You weren’t exactly thrilled about Merle as a person but, you knew deep down he was another person to help protect your baby.

You decided there was no use in stressing yourself, so you went and distracting yourself with chores. Laundry, moving fire wood to our fire pit, took a walk near the perimeter, which now leaves you here at the waters edge. You used the cool water to help with the swelling in your feet and ankles. Week after week you had the sense that being pregnant is going to really suck farther down the road. You fiddle with your knife while swaying your feet in the water. Lost in your own world when an echo starts to ring out throughout the quarry.

The car alarm got louder so you slipped your shoes on and walked back up to the camp. You saw a red car and Glenn standing outside of it. Shane opening the hood and pulling something to stop its beeping. People were yelling at him for answers when a van appeared, ‘so everyone made it back.’ It was a relief to stop the constant thought of the worse. You couldn’t help but notice Merle nowhere to be seen. But that thought was pushed aside when you heard Carl scream,

“DAD!”

You watched with a smile at the reunion of the Grimes family. Also taking notice of Shane making a weird face. He probably was feeling sick to his stomach and you thought it kinda deserved. He did persuade his grieving wife. The thought was interrupted by T-dog coming toward you with a concerned face. You clicked something was wrong, then started to look around. Merle was still no where. The sinking feeling of realization hit you. T-dog watch as understanding washed over you. A hand over your mouth, “W-where is Merle?” A few others turning at the mention, Lori’s husband taking the most notice. T-dog spoke first, “He was putting all of us in danger. He was cracked out of his mind.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, ‘I told him to behave.’ You inhale trying to calm yourself, “He dead?” T-dog shook his head. You nodded looking at all the pears of eyes on you. Your eyes were shiny but nothing fell. You huffed and walked back to your tent. While you were upset about Merle being gone it wasn’t about that. It proved how fucked this new world was becoming. A world your child would have to be in. Suddenly being pregnant with them seemed like the safest place for them. Your thoughts of how it would suck later in pregnancy and 'couldn’t wait for it to be over' stopped. Your child is the safest it will ever be in its life. That terrifying thought scared you.

It wasn’t until later when the sun began to set that you had calmed. It was cold and you wanted to sit by a fire. People were surprised when you appeared and sat with them. You had over heard parts about what happened to Rick. But at the sight of you got them talking about Merle. It was Dale who brought it up, “Who is going to tell Daryl Dixon about his brother?” Rick glanced to you then back to Dale, “I will. I’m the one who handcuffed him.” Then T-dog shook his head, “Nah I dropped the key, makes this one mine.” Based on that information you started to piece what happened on the run. That thought stalled to a stop when Glenn stated, “Not to make it about race but maybe a white guy should tell him?” Is that what they thought about Daryl? They just assuming he is like his brother? You huff in anger, “Really Glenn? He is not racist. He’s only the person that, you know, been feeding all of you.” Glenn turned sheepish at your harsh tone. You stood, “But you know, leave his brother for dead seems like a good trade for how much he has been doing for all of you people!”

You visible deflate mood switching on a dime. You move a hand to your small bump, “Sorry I know you probably had a good reason, Merle is a hard ass.” You sunk back down enjoying the fire too much to go to bed. Rick’s voice spoke calmly, “Your pregnant.” He stated it more as a realization. You look to his shocked face, clearly thinking of how unlucky a timing it was to be. You chuckled speaking sarcastically, “Keep up with those observations and you’re sure to make detective.” His eyebrows drawn in by thought, “Merle was the father?” Disgust washing over your face, “Ew. God I take it back.” Everyone was surprised at your blatant dislike for Merle. They knew Daryl was the dad. You start to clarify, “Daryl is the dad.” You took notice of there original reaction, “Look I don’t like Merle anymore then you probably do. Half the time I don’t think Daryl does either! But he is still at the end of the day my family now.”

Peoples lack of trying to talk to you has put there own version of you in there head. They thought you were quiet and jumpy. Questioning if they did talk to you they would do more harm then good like with Carol. Now the few talks they’ve had or heard from you made sense. You were out spoken and just tired from being pregnant. You stood up again feeling awkward. “I’m going to bed, figure out what to say to Daryl. Maybe watch out for a punch or two.” So you walked off to bed. You were happy you could see Daryl in the morning, but the thought of him learning of his brother broke your heart. You tossed and turned most of the night with the thought.

The light shining through your tent lead you awake. Still trying to cling to as much sleep while feeling drowsy. Then you heard Carl and Sophia screams. You sat up and tried to get to your feet causing a wave of dizziness. The shuffling of stomping feet telling you people were running over there. You slip on shoes taking a moment to become alright with gravity again. Amy and Andrea walked away when you walked over a voice caught your attention, “Its gotta be the brain, don’t youall know nothing?” You smiled glad Daryl is back. When you turn the corner however you weren’t expecting a walker and deer to be sprawled out dead on the floor. You made eye contact with Daryl when the smell of the walker pulled a gag from you. The smile being wiped from your face as a hand comes to your mouth. You immediately turned back around and walked away.

Daryl was well aware of how sensitive your senses have become. You can’t handle anything raw at the moment. He noticed a week into the quarry how you would look at something raw, something that never bother you before, and it would make you queasy. Speaking of raw he should probably get the squirrels ready. He sighed watching you walk away with a love sick hopelessness washed on his face. Something that people have never taken notice of before. So he called for his brother to help, so he could get to you sooner. That's when all hell broke loose.

You heard the calls for Merle hearing Daryl walk back. Then you saw all the guys surround him. Then you watched him pace back and forth. You knew that was a coping thing he did so you decided to stand closer. By the time you had walked over he threw the squirrels he’d caught at Rick. You didn’t even have a moment to yell his name when the former policemen jumped him and pinned him. Shane putting him in a headlock and Rick getting in his face. You yelled in displeasure,

“Get the hell off him!”

It was the loudest anyone has heard you, also the angriest. Shane had glanced to you before releasing his hold on him. Daryl sprung back up frustration clear on his face. When he turned to make sure you were behind him you caught a glimpse of his eyes becoming glassy. T-dog chimed in from the earlier conversation you didn’t hear, “It’s not his fault, I dropped the key.” Daryl’s voice strained, “You couldn’t pick it up?!” T-dog looked down guilty, "Well, I dropped it into a drain. But before I left I chained the door shut." Daryl shook his head and started to back up, "That supposed to make me feel better! Hell with all of y'all, just tell me where he is so I can go an get him." You hated to see him upset. You weren't expecting Lori to pipe in and volunteering her husband to take Daryl there. Rick said he was planning to go back anyways saying it was wrong for anything to suffer like that. Shane being the typical hard ass and self employed leader strongly disagreed. With a few others joining it was decided, they were going to get Merle back.

You were finally alone with Daryl again. He still seemed riled over everything but also you could see he was getting emotional. He was turned around facing away from you. You slowly wrapped you arms around him, holding him from behind. He slowly turned into you resting his chin on your head and arms going over your shoulders. You felt him release air, sinking into you. He try's to hide it but you see he is exhausted. You saw he felt like he had to prove something to you, or maybe just to himself. He released you with avoided eye contact. He took a moment with you and collected himself but, he was still a man on a mission.

You watch as Daryl throw things into a bag and refusing to met your eye to avoid whatever look that would break his heart. They were about to take off back to the city and into danger, so you stopped Daryl by putting your hands to his chest. He spoke before you could, "Look I have ta go get him, I know you don't want me goin-" You cut him of by grabbing his face, "When you see him again you tell him I warned his dumb ass, and when you get him back here I'm going to chew him out for this!" He looked at you stunned. You use your grip on his face to drag him into a kiss, "And you better comeback here without a scratch!" He smiled at you, eyes soft, he kissed you again.

"Yes Ma'am."

They had left hours ago and you had that uneasy feeling again. You respected Rick more then anyone else at the camp and he just got here. He was a decent guy but feel bad watching Carl's worried expression. Lori even flipped that he was going right after she herself said he was. Mood swings on that girl, and your the one whos supposed to be pregnant. Jim was off digging which concerned a few. It led to him tided to a tree for his own safety. Granted it was the only eventful thing that would probably happen today. Unless a swamp monster dragged itself out of the water you and all the girls were doing laundry in. Although Ed was a close to one. It was a welcome distraction all the same. To have girl talk again was essential to any girl and none can say other wise. Most of the girls seemed like they could now talk to you and it was a relief.

Although Andrea kinda still sucks the life out of fun, "So how did you end up pregnant?" Most girls look over to her wet laundry in hand and displeased looks by the question. You tightly rung a shirt and looked at her in the eye, "Well, I think your a little old for the birds and bees talk." That gained an eye roll from her but chuckles from the others. You smiled before giving her the answer you are sure she was trying to dig for, "I found out a day before the fall." The thought making you think of your Aunt. You continued on anyways, "Daryl and I hadn't been dating that long I'll be honest, so it wasn't exactly planned. Then I thought it was the end of the world." You look around to the thoughtful faces around you and shrugged, "Turns out I was a day off on that though." It was lighthearted from there, mentions of things that they missed from before. Carols unexpected and less then innocent choice sent waves of laughter throughout the lady's. That fun was crushed by the swamp monster known as Ed.

It lead to something you didn't expect. His sexism rubbing everyone the wrong way. Making Andrea questioned what he did instead of sitting on his ass doing nothing. Which while true and agreed with it lead to him to try to take Carol away and most likely go hit her. When Andrea challenge Ed in doing so it left a sinking feeling in you. You were uncomfortable with confrontation, probably do with the way your parents had treated you. Even with the sinking feeling you try and pull Carol behind you. The exaltation of his action were unpredictable, "Think I won't hit some pregnant whore?!" That was the first swing. It almost fully landed grazing your cheek. Carol had used the arm you had on her to tug you back before he swung. The frightened yelps and yells grabbing the attention from those farther. Carol now stood slightly in front of you, your cold damp hand moving to your warmed cheek he clipped. Ed now focused on his wife slapping her and trying to drag her away but the other girls now stepping in and clung to her. You didn't even see Shane before he pulled Ed backwards and began to lay punch after punch into him. Everyone but Carol were stunned into silence. Carols cry's and the grunts coming from the men filled the air. So maybe Jim wasn't the only thing that was going to happen today.

Everything was tense after that. With the amount things gone wrong and the still missing members that went to the city, moral was low among the group. Later in the evening Amy and Andrea had gone fishing catching dinner. The sun drifted closer to fully set as the fish was cooked with one question still in there minds, 'Where were they?' The smell of the fish left you gagging and need for fresher air. You found you way back to the water to dip your swollen feet in the water again. It wasn't a unusual thing you did, you did it often. Knife in hand and legs swaying in the cool water. The light dissipated making you aware you should get back soon. You had heard laughs by the camp so moral was rising from the stressful day. You used your cold hands to press to your reddened face from almost getting flattened out by Ed. Daryl would will not be happy about that. You had pulled you feet from the water shaking the water off them to put your shoes on. Then the day got even worse. A scream ripped threw the air making you turn to the sound. You see outlines of figures in the dark. You feel fear crash into you.

'Walkers...'

There were even two coming closer to you from the woods to the side of the water. They had almost snuck up on you if you hadn't looked around because of the scream. A tremble was in your hand as you gripped the knife you had. You slowly back away, hearing gunshots off in the air. Daryl had taught you this for this moment. He had grilled this into you in fear that maybe he wouldn't be around to protect you. The first walker was a thin women, the other a male missing its arm and limping. You lunged the knife into the women's eye. Your knife breaking by the blade as the women fell over dead. The snapping of the metal was like slow motion, the other walker steps away from you. You step back bare feet getting hurt by the jagged rocks. You had looked down spotting a larger rock and hurriedly pick it up.

You remember the motions Daryl had showed you for self defense but had never practiced them with him. He didn't really like the idea of rough housing with his pregnant girlfriend even if it was for your defense. You reached and tugged the one arm the walker had and tripped the thing in the motion. It was flat on the floor about to get back up and grab at you. However, rock in hand you threw downward blows one after another even after the thing stopped moving. Blood splatting all over you shirt and down your arms. The buzz of adrenalin causing your hands to violently shake when you stopped swinging. The urge to cry was strong but you notice the now slue of gunshots that had increased stop. The silence broken by the yell and worried cry for your name.

"Y/N!!!"

Your body fluttered at the sound of Daryl. Still bare foot you ran up the gravel hill and yelling back to him with emotion in your voice, "DARYL!!!" You had made it to the top getting to see him wipe around to your voice. His crossbow dropped to the ground as you both booked it toward each other. He didn't know what to think when he couldn't find you after the last walker fell. The inability to find you cracking a desperate hole into his chest. When he heard you and saw you running to him relief flooded him. As he ran panic rose again seeing you dripping in blood. Inches apart he heard your desperate sobs before crashing into one another. He pulled you off your feet lifting you into him. His voiced stuttered out, "Are you bit?! Are you ok?!" You voice quivering as you sucked in a breath. "I'm alright-t." He felt you shaking like a leaf and whispered into you, "I've got ya, nothin is gonna hurt ya." You had barred your face into his neck now crying in relief. Daryl helped you get cleaned up, that night you clung to him while everyone 'slept'. A moment can change everything, and it was clear to everyone after today.

They were no longer safe here and things were only going to get worse.

Part 3

Feedback welcome and requests open!

taglist

@daryldixmedown @aureolinb @the1eyedmonster16 @lettersfromyourlove @felicisimor

@daryl-dixons-left-hand @sokkasimp101 @darylssextoy69 @ddixon99 @itwasntaphasema

@iluvme9 @lunajay33 @twisteduniverse5 @thestonedwriter

[porcelain-gal]

unpopular opinion. just a warning, i'm being pretty rude in this.

i don't like when some of y'all start with that "stop acting like a victim bcuz it's your fault you haven't shifted" shit because you're sayin' a whole buncha nothing. people are allowed to feel negative emotions and feel hopeless when we live in like the worst fucking world ever. why are we sitting here acting like someone not shifting for years isn't gonna make 'em feel at least a little dejected and upset especially if it's something they genuinely want to do or feel like they NEED to do? are people just not allowed to be sad ever because negativity bad, effort good?

mf we are beings with emotions, the majority of us gon' feel some typa way if we don't get what we strive for for a long ass time whether it be shifting, getting a job, starting a business, whatever. and i cannot believe that some of y'all genuinely think that telling people that shit is going to help. like seriously, what is wrong wit y'all? do you realize that saying ts literally only makes a LOT of other shifters feel worse and even more demotivated because now they're blaming themselves and fucking spiraling trying to figure out what they're doing wrong?

and then y'all don't even give any actual advice after that to be like "this is a way you can figure this out," no you just shit on people and leave them with that. all you're doing is wasting space on people's fucking screens and it is so aggravating. basically what i'm saying is please be mindful of what you say and how you say it because your words do affect people and y'all need to talk to people like you got sense.

remember that people other than you got feelings. people are allowed to feel bad and tryna tough love a mf outta that isn't going to work the way y'all want it to the majority of the time. a little piece of advice; maybe try normal love first? kindness goes a long way, especially in the shifting community. just a "hey, consider that it may possibly be something you're doing" is better than "it's all your fault." but whatever, i know ts really ain't that serious, i'm just irritated. regardless, happy shifting <3

race-changers, ageplayers, adults who shift for minors, and (unjustified) murder dr havers dni

[shelbgrey]

Hey Pookie so there is this very sexy man named Mark Sloan and I was wondering if you could write some beautiful Fluffy/Smutty dating Headcanons for him PLZ

Dating Mark Sloan headcanons

Paring: Mark Sloan x Shepherd!Reader

Summary: headcanons about Mark Sloan dating Derek's little sister -SMUT warning!

💚MasterList ML2 💚Dating Mood board

You guys started fake dating... That's how it all started. He wanted to make Addison Jelouse and you just want to get back at her for hurting your brother Derek.

You had 10 rules to this plan:

NO Sex - you

Never break rule #1 - you

Be on Mark's services/work in plastics if needed -Mark

Go on dates at least twice a month to make the act look real - Mark

No kissing or touching - if you have to just kiss forehead/cheek and don't touch anything below the waist - you

No sex with nurses, Mark - it'll blow the cover - you

Be nice to my friends(I don't care if you hate interns) - you

Trust each other - mark

Don't play favorites in the hospital - includes not helping with most surgeries/patients - you

Don't fall in love with each other - you

Derek hates it at first, even during the time you guys were faking it all. “stay away from my sister” Derek snapped at mark.

“too late... We're already together”

Derek and Mark got into a fight... That ended with black eyes, bruises, and Mark needing stitches on his face.

“I'm sorry this happened” you mumbled softly as you stitched his jaw for him. He stared at you with those blue eyes you love so much. “don't worry about it”

“maybe we should stop this whole thing” you suggested, Mark shook his head. “no, we got this. Rule #8, remember?” but really he was already falling so hard for you and he wanted to keep you close as long as possible.

Spoil alert you guys broke rule #10 and fell hard for each other. Well he fell first, but you fell harder. “I want this for real... No more fake shit, I love you”

After that ordeal you figured you owed Derek an explanation. Derek never found out about the fake dating, but you need to tell him where your feeling stand. “you love him, don't you?” Derek asks.

“I do... And I trust him” you say.

“if he hurts you... Cheats on you, I'll kill him” simply Derek said and you guys moved on with your lives.

Once you guys start dating for real he faithful and his heart now belongs to you.

Even Derek gave him credit for that. During the few months of you guys actually dating, deek would keep an eye on him. A hot nurse would walk by and Mark wouldn't even look at her.

You see a different side to Mark. He stops looking at any other woman. He just looks at you.

His sweeter, gentler side is only reserved for you.

Callie is your biggest supporter. Always hyping your relationship up. Mark might go to her for relationship advice. Callie might even be a referee during arguments.

Callie is definitely your best friend. You, Mark, and her the hospital's main trio.

Double dates with Callie and Arizona or Derek and Meredith.

He needs physical contact all the time. Rather it be cuddling on bed or on the couch or holding hands in the hospital.

He's a big cuddler. Sometimes he'll just wrap his arms around you and pull you to his chest without saying anything.

He's so flirty with you. No matter how many years you've been together, he still thinks you're the sexiest, most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Like I said, he flirts with you so much. Some times he'll come up behind you while your working and whispere suggestive comment in your ear or grab your ass.

“stop it! We're at work” you quietly scolded him after his gabered your ass. “I can't help it... You have a nice ass”

You steal his leather jacket all the time, even though it looks big on you he thinks it's hot as hell on you. Now and days the only time he sees that jacket is if your wearing it.

Dirty jokes all the time. If you hear something remotely dirty you'll whisper, “that's what she said”

If he's had a hard day, he either needs one of two things. A rough fuck or he needs to curl up beside you and cuddle.

The way he kisses you makes your heart race. He holds your face in his hands and you honestly feel like you and him are the only things that matter in the world.

But he is a rough kisser, but mostly he's a passionate kisser. He pours all his love and emotions into it, he makes sure your the only one on this earth he wants to love.

He's soft with you when it comes to holding you and give affection. He's so gentle and delicate and you can tell through the way he brushes your hair from your face or the way he nuzzles his face into your neck that he just absolutely adores you.

Your is Angel and he feels so unworthy of you. He's so lucky to have you in his life and he doesn't want to screw it up.

Mark's not the jelouse type and neither are you. Dispite his man-whore past you both have a lot of trust in your relationship, but if you be-friend Jackson I think Mark would get jelouse.

Mark hates the way Jackson looks at you, Mark knows he likes you. But your completely oblivious to it because all you see is Mark.

Doggie parents at the beginning of your relationship. You brought home a rotwiler puppy home without him knowing one time.

That dog is your protector rather or not Mark is there or not. He also gets jealous of Mark and will nuzzle his way between you too if your hugging or kissing.

Sometimes you guys will get home so late from the hospital you'll just want to set on the couch and watch TV because your both sleep deprived.

You guys really don't know why or how you got into it, but you found a Chanel that shows re-runs of American Ninja Warrior and old WWE matches. You guys just stated watching them all the time.

He calls you Angel

You guys play wrestle all the time. Sometimes he'll just let you win because he loves seeing you being so happy about.

He steals the covers all the time and if you get cold you'll cuddle closer to him to get warm. He's relized this, so he'll intentionally steal the covers just to have extra cuddle time.

You get upset if he makes the interns that are on his service get him coffee or get his dry cleaning. “they aren't your servants, Mark” you say, taking the money back from the intern.

If you want Mark to do that stuff himself, you have to threaten to do it yourself. “I'll get it, I'm going that way anyway” you say and mark will quickly stop you. “no, no, I'll do it... You don't have to do that crap for me”

You guys don't fight often, but if you do it's usually a couple of days of the silent treatment. Both of you are too stubborn to say sorry or admit your wrong too.

Watching old Universal monster movies, your favorite is The Bride of Frankenstein. You even got him to dress up at the two monsters with you on Halloween one time.

If your sick he'll drop everything and take care of you, he doesn't care if he catches whatever you have he wants you comfortable and cared for.

His apartment getting the 'girlfriend touch', everything is just cleaner and more organized when you start living with him. “where's my belt?” Mark asked looking all over the bedroom floor where it used to be.

“in your dresser where it's supposed to be... And if I step on it one more time it's going in the trash”

✨Passenger princess✨

If you have a Stanley or a water bottle, whatever you drink out of, Mark will probably be drinking out of it too. You guys kiss and have sex all the time, so he doesn't care if he drinks after you.

NSFW headcanons:

He’s an expert at foreplay. He’ll spend as much time as he can trying to get you hot and bothered or worked up.

He has a tendency to grip the headboard when he's close to cumming.

He has this mischievous kind of charm to him and he uses it to his advantage when it comes to getting your attention. He knows all your ticks and can easily get your riled up.

Mark loves bitting your neck just to hear you moan. When you finally give in to him, he'll lay you down on the couch or bed and start pealing your clothes off to reveal your chest.

He's definitely the dominant person in bed and your not complaining, he'll get rough and pound hard enough were the bed starts rocking.

The sex maybe rough, but Mark isn't not big on insults. He refuses to degrade you and will only use sweet words.

If you’re struggling to take him in or taking long to adjust, he’ll whisper reassurances that you’re doing a good job while rubbing his hands on your back and thighs.

He prefers missionary, growling in your ear while his hands grip yours above your head.

Mark also loves watching your face while you bounce up and down his dick. He loves the expressions you make when he thrusts up into you when you least expect it.

Mark just likes to lay back and just watch you ride him, he loves the feeling of your thighs and ass in his hands.

He's a soft/mean Dom, it just depends on his mood. But no matter what he always makes sure your comfortable. He loves to take control in the bed but would never push you.

He loves the sounds you make. The moaning, the begging, everything.

Loves eating you out,your legs around his head. He loves your legs in general and loves leaving kisses on the insides of your thighs. He'd rather pleasure you for hours than receive.

He has big chocking kink, he won't be too rough about but he loves wrapping his fingers around your neck and feeling your pulse when he's ramming into you.

He love getting head. I feel like he’d like having you on your knees. Plus, feeling your lips around him pushes him closer to cumming in your mouth.

Bondeg kink, handcuffs, his ties, belts, he'll tie you up with anything if your comfortable with it.

There's also a tone of jealous sex. If he sees Alex shamelessly flirting with you expected to be tied to bed as fucks your brains out. If he sees Jackson touch you in a way thats reserved only for him you’re pinned against the wall.

There has been a couple of times Derek has walked in on you while you both are getting it on in one of the on-call rooms, it's safe to day Derek has lernd to knock.

“Mark, he literally saw it” you gasped from under mark.

He kissed your neck. “I was too busy to notice”

This man is amazing when it comes to aftercare. He knows exactly what you need. After your both cleaned up, he'll pull you to his chest to cuddle.

[callme-darling]

work tensions

or; you’re a prosecutor working a trial vincent is defending and your colleagues get the feeling there’s some underlying tension between the way you’re at each others throats

word count: 3.3k

warnings: smut, like genuinely filthy shit, fem reader, hate sex (kinda), sex in the workplace (so like semi-public ig), vincent and y/n are rivals/enemies, this actually somewhat has a plot lmao, hellllaaaaa tension, so much teasing, degradation (he say slut once), cocky vincent, begging if you squint, throat holding/light choking, fingering, no protection, p-in-v, not proofread, friendly ending (bc i’m a big softie)

a/n: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY LADIES!!!! hope you enjoy🤍🤍

you were amongst the youngest of the attorneys in the city courthouse. you were fortunate in the opportunities afforded to you, but you also worked your ass off to get where you were today. which is why you, for the life of yourself, can’t understand what the hell you did to earn the contempt of vincent renzi.

from the first time you both stood in the same courtroom, it seemed like his eyes were always set in a hard glare when they saw you. so whose to blame you for reciprocating the hostility? your colleagues usually give you well-intentioned advice to at least talk to him, something you haven’t even done outside of casework. who knows, they’d shrug, maybe it’s just ill-concealed intrigue.

you were young, but you weren’t naive enough to think the esteemed defense attorney didn’t absolutely hate your guts.

some of your colleagues, however, seemed hellbent on taking matters into their own hands after a minor scuffle that left the judge’s office suspended in a tense battle of wills. the case wasn’t even that serious—just a petty case of ‘he-said, she-said’ neighbor dispute. but the simple judge’s meeting quickly fell apart to a dispute that devolved to obviously personal jabs.

when the judge finally had enough, she dismissed both you and vincent from the room with the stern instruction to “talk out whatever issues you two obviously have, and get your shit together”.

you’re on vincent’s heels as he speeds out of the room. as soon as you hear the door click shut behind you, you’re glancing up and down the hallway. vincent runs a hand through his hair, annoyance etched across his features.

“what the hell is your problem?”

you gawk at him, “MY problem?!” you chuckle at his audacity. “you’re the one who started all this-“ you wave your hands in the space between you two like some enigmatic boundary separated you.

his tongue prodded the inside of his cheek, and a roll of his eyes had you seeing red. before you had a chance to properly rip his throat out, an older man poked his head out from another room, face stern as he recommended you find somewhere else to continue whatever dispute you deigned important enough to have a tempermental yelling match in the middle of the office.

with a noise that could only be chalked up at pure irritation, vincent began strutting down the hall. you were quick behind him, wordlessly keeping in step with his long strides. you weren’t done with your conversation, and you’ll be damned if you let him walk away now.

you were in an unfamiliar, and rather desolate, wing of the building when he spun around to face you, his face inches from yours as he ducked down slightly to glare into your eyes. “quit following me like a damn dog!”

your eyes widened before a hard scowl settled on your face. “not until you tell me what your problem with me is.” you fume, “ever since i got here, you have had some personal vendetta against me. you’re going to tell me why.”

his jaw clenched as his eyes scanned your face. “your feelings are hurt because i don’t like you, is that what this is?”

you roll your eyes. “that’s bullshit and we both know it. the truth. now.”

“i need a reason to dislike you?”

“you can make one up for all i care, but i’m tired of your attitude fucking with my job.”

he chuckles dryly, “oh, i see. that’s what this is about.”

your brows scrunch together. at your look of confusion, he takes a step closer, breath fanning your face as he whispers through tight lips, “it’s my attitude fucking with your job, hm? that’s what drives me so fucking crazy- you’re so blind.” he rubs a hand over his mouth, taking a breath before his eyes are hard set on you again. “don’t think i don’t see it—the way you’ve charmed our colleagues, how you bat your pretty little eyes at the judges to get your way-“

you cut him off, disbelief dripping from your words. “excuse me?”

he scoffs, “oh don’t be coy.”

“you know what, vincent,” you clench your fists, nails biting into your palms as they shook, “you can fuck right off.”

you go to turn and walk away, but a thought of venom penetrates your mind and you whip right back around, nearly nose-to-nose as you whisper low, “just say you’re threatened by me next time.”

you watch as something akin to rage flash across vincent’s face. he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but his eyes bore into yours with a silent threat that chills your spine. his tone is low, dangerous. the rasp makes the hair along your arms stand on end. “i suggest you choose your next words wisely, y/n.”

maybe it was your stubbornness, or a fleeting air of confidence, but you hold his stare, your own voice quieter but just as menacing. “vincent renzi is threatened by the fresh-faced competition and can’t stand the thought that i may be the better attorney.” were you being childish in taunting him? yes, probably. but the months of tension were reaching critical mass, and whatever thoughts crossed your mind were being said.

what had just slipped through your lips, though, was definitely the wrong thing to have said.

a hand harshly grips your bicep as he drags you to the nearest room. he flicks on one set of lights and slams the door shut. he’s fuming, you note. however, you don’t fully register just how angry he is.

he’s silent for a pregnant moment, the air suffocating as he watches you with an analytical glare, his body seemed almost animalistic in how he stalked towards with with silent strides. you feel a new form of anxiety quicken your breathing.

he’s close now, so close you can smell his day-old cologne like it were freshly applied. his voice is quiet, but it makes you jolt under his intense gaze. “you want to know why i hate you so much?”

you feel as though you’re trapped in a stupor, your mind dizzy with this newfound suspense. you give him a small nod, not trusting your voice to remain firm in this intensity.

you swear you feel his lips just barely ghost over your cheek as he speaks, nearly growling in your ear. “i hate you because you’re so infuriating.” he pauses. “the way you walk around the courtroom like it’s yours to own, how you always make the most nit-picky points. and what pisses me off the most, is how i’m so attracted to you because of it.”

you were holding your breath. you felt your mind reeling as silence settled over the room. only the sound of your own breathing and the blood rushing through your veins reached your ears as you held vincent’s gaze.

his ferocity seemed to have diminished a fraction, but his jaw remained clenched. words escaped your brain as you tried to wrack together some coherent response, anything to quell the heat burning you from the inside out.

when no such words came, you decided ‘to hell with it’.

your eyes flicked to vincent’s lips, rubbed a pretty red from his hands and teeth. then you looked back into his eyes. an exchange that required no voice.

‘do it then,’ you silently dared. do it.

and so, he did.

his palm was warm on your cheek, fingers wrapping around the back of your head as he crashed his lips to yours. the force of the kiss had you stumbling back before vincent’s other hand caught your hip.

impatient. that was the best word to describe the way vincent kissed you. you tasted his lips on yours, body humming as you become acutely aware just who you’re kissing. and the mere thought has your thighs clenching together.

there was no room to speak with the way his mouth trailed down your chin, dipping into the curve of your neck. a shudder rushes through your muscles when you feel his teeth nip at the skin of your throat, eliciting a soft gasp to fall from your kiss-swollen lips.

you can feel the faint press of a grin to your collarbone. he coaxed your legs to walk back a few steps, securing your body between the table and his own.

his breath was warm as he spoke against your shoulder, “tell me to stop.” the featherlight touch of his fingers sent jolts of electricity through you as they skimmed down your arms and over your waist. “tell me you don’t want this, and i’ll let you walk out that door.”

your lungs burned when you finally released your breath. you could feel the heat pooling in your stomach, and the deep octave of his voice was doing little to soothe it. you were surprised by your own voice’s clarity, “shut up and kiss me again.”

you felt his body melt deeper into yours as your palms pulled him in by the side of his neck. you allowed yourself to be more eager, greedier, as your tongue teased his bottom lip.

he pressed his hips firmly against yours, his rasping moan nearly making you whimper in response. he was breathless when he pulled away. the pad of his thumb stroked your bottom lip, his own shining with a mixture of yours and his spit.

“i’m going to ruin you..” he murmured, leaning down again, his lips brushing over yours as his thumb holds your chin in place.

you prop your hand on the table behind you, not trusting your legs to hold you for much longer. your voice is meeker this time as you whisper against his touch, “you can try.”

vincent kisses you with an assured hunger. his touch dominating as he grips your hips, the fabric of your skirt gradually bunching in his hold. you can sense the apprehension in him, his internal battle of morals. your hand cradles the back of his head, nails stroking his scalp as you use your other to guide his hand under your blouse. blue eyes meet yours as you chide, “you don’t have to play nice with me, vincent.” the lull of his name from your lips paired with the way you brought his palm to grope at your chest, he needed no more convincing.

“such a little fuckin’ minx.” he muttered under his breath. your skirt was bunched up to your waist, your panties shoved down your legs. he had your back flat on the tabletop, hips slotted between your thighs as his eyes raked over you.

you could feel yourself slowly dripping onto the table below you, cheeks flushed with both lust and embarrassment.

vincent smirked. seeing you laid out like this, on display for him has his dick twitching in his pants. he appraised your needy pussy, a tentative two fingers teasing your folds as your thighs trembled. he watched how you grew shy, hand hovering over your mouth as you whine at the fleeting touch.

finally, you feel the pair of fingers slide into your soaking cunt. a whimper escapes you when he’s knuckle-deep in your clenching heat, the palm of his hand grazing your clit.

his gaze is attentive as he makes note of every little reaction you have to each stroke of his fingers. he bites his lip as he witnesses your eyes softly roll back when his fingers find the spot that has your chest heaving and hips shuddering. he leans down so his ear is next to your mouth, intent on hearing every single needy little whine he lures from you. he presses his lips to yours when he feels you creep up to your climax. “are you going to come on my hand?” his eyes find yours, half-lidded and glassy, and the sight alone makes him groan as his cock aches.

“is this all it takes to have you all pretty and compliant?” the teasing lilt in his voice only makes your cunt flutter around his fingers. “not so smart now when i have two fingers in this little pussy of yours, hm?”

you swear you felt like you were going to pass out. the combination of his fingers and palm against your pussy, his degrading mocking, and taunting eyes has you keening under him in a newfound desperation as you teetered precariously on the edge. so, so close to being rendered incoherent with only two fingers.

his touch leaves you.

you whine loudly, pouting as you attempt to catch your stolen breath. you move to sit up, but a large firm hand across your collarbones keeps you sprawled on the table. you squirm under his hold. “vincent.. why?” under any other circumstances, the needy pitch of your voice would’ve made you cringe, but your depravity gave you little to care about aside from satisfying your incessant lust right now.

his voice was sickeningly taunting as he cooed down at you, his other hand brushing the hair from your face. “come on, you have to work for it.”

you could feel that familiar animosity sit on your tongue, but you hold it. though, based on the sly smile looking down at you, you got the sense he could feel it too.

“how ‘bout this..” he sighs instead. his eyes trailed over your face, blue irises harboring a certain warmth that had anticipation swirling in your stomach. “if you say a simple, little sentence, i’ll give you what you want.”

you chew on your bottom lip, mulling over what was no doubt a trap. “what would you have me say?”

the way his smile widened had your pussy clenching around nothing, the cold air making you shiver. “i want you to say: ‘only vincent renzi can make my pussy this wet’.

“oh fuck y-“

his hand catches your jaw before you could finish your crude remark. his fingers lightly dig into your cheeks as he comes nose-to-nose with you. his voice is dangerously low but a softness keeps to the edges. “would you rather me leave you here, like this? your pussy is practically weeping.” as if to reinforce his words, a hand lightly slaps against your folds. the wet sound had your face turning a new shade of red, lips pouting as his other hand still holds your face close to his.

you don’t say anything, internally battling with yourself. the tip of vincent’s tongue pokes out to wet his lips, your eyes following the minute movement with bated breaths. then his soft voice buzzes in your ear. “c’mon.. just say how i make you drip like a needy slut. let me hear that pretty voice of yours, the one you like to use so much.”

you felt a whine croak in your throat as the hand between your thighs gave your clit another tap. “i’ll give you three seconds.” his low tone warned.

“three..”

you felt your breath stutter, eyes searching his. there’s no way he’s serious.

“two..”

he wouldn’t actually leave you like this, would he?”

“on-“

“okay.” you cut him off, words rushed as you grip the wrist of the hand holding your face.

he peers down at you expectantly. the corner of his lips upturned slightly, and you hated how attractive it was.

“only vincent can make me this wet..” he’s never seen you so timid and meek than in that moment, something that only added to the building heat of the room.

“now, was that so hard?” he quirked a brow, fingers playing with your aching cunt as he notes the way your slick soaks his palm. “you’ve done your part, so be a good girl and take what i give you, yeah?”

you nod dumbly as his hand drops from your jaw. your body felt like it was buzzing, heart hammering in your chest as you watched him fumble with his pants, pulling his leather belt off with one hand.

he plants a searing kiss to your lips, a trained dominance permeating his movements. you moan against him, hips twitching as his pants brush against your bare core. a hand slides between your bodies to free his leaking cock from his slacks. you swallow any sounds he makes as his hand strokes his dick a few times. “you got to stay quiet. think you can handle that?”

you ignore the obvious taunt, hand on the back of his neck as you pull at the ends of his hair. “just fuck me already, vince.”

he chuckles dryly, but you sense the anticipation crawling under his skin. next time, you’ll be the one making him beg.

a drawn out gasp fills the room as you feel him slowly begin to sink into your tight heat. fuck, you felt dizzy as your cunt pulsed, sucking him in deeper.

you both moan in with quiet sighs when he bottoms out. he starts slow, but eventually finds a rhythm that has you whining with each thrust, your whimpers gradually growing in volume as his thumb toyed with your sore clit. he curses under his breath, a large hand gripping the sides of your throat.

his voice was labored but firm, “you want the entire firm to hear how you sound with my dick in you? be quiet.” he warns again.

you try, you really do. your hand is over your mouth, eyes watering with unshed tears as his pace quickens. your other hand flies to his shoulder, nails biting into his shirt in a silent plea. his voice floats back to you. “but staying quiet was never your strong suit, was it?”

“fuck, oh shit-“ you whimper, eyes screwing shut when you feel the start of your orgasm wrack through you. “vincent, please, oh-“ your eyes fluttered as his grip around your neck tightened a fraction.

“i told you, you would eventually start begging.”

you can barely hear him over the erratic pulsing in your ears. your entire body tenses, cunt clenching around his dick like a vice. he hisses above you, teeth gritted as he watches you come undone.

he pulls out of you, stroking himself a few more times before he’s coming on your pussy and thighs.

you lay on the table, breathing hard as you come down from the orgasmic high. you stare at vincent who’s already watching you, breaths sharing a calming rhythm. when you feel more like yourself, you start to sit up. he hands you a box of tissues, eyes daring to glance at the mess he made on you.

you attempt to straighten your blouse, the collar of which looks as though it had gone through a windstorm. your eyes scan the floor for your panties.

vincent’s palm offers the small ball of satin into your fingers. your gaze catches his as he suppresses a grin. “wouldn’t want to be caught without these, would you?”

you glare at him, though it’s void of the usual hostility. you finish straightening your clothes, blouse retucked into your smoothed-out skirt. you turn back to vincent who’s been put back together for a couple minutes already, leaning against the wall idly.

your mind screamed at you to fill the silence, to say something to settle the oncoming disquiet.

to your surprise, it was vincent who broke the silence first. “who would have thought that this is something you’re into?” his eyes appraised you again. there was no adversity in his jest, only a gentle prodding.

“you can’t say that like you didn’t just fuck me the same.”

he nods, toothy grin starting to crack through his lips. you can see the way his fingers twitch, itching to hold a cigarette between them.

“want a smoke?” you offer, testing the waters.

his eyes catch yours, and he holds your gaze for a moment. then the first genuine, true smile you’ve seen from him is directed at you.

“i’d like that, yes.”

[gremlingottoosilly]

Been reading through your König fics and what if König x dumb fem!reader, like they are totally clueless about everything, gets lost 89% of the time, they're sweet and all but they can't do shit, she trusts literally everyone's advice and doesn't know when someone's joking so they just take everything seriously,

I have no clue who would be chasing who, but if it's König trying to court the reader, it's going to be a long ass time before they ever figure out what's happening, he could be throwing the most obvious signs and she be like "oh that's nice!" And moves on with her life holding the bouquet König gave or something, Bonus points if her whole aesthetic is just bimbocore

Oh, you people share like 3 brain cells between the two of you. Konig isn't stupid - he is a genius of strategy, as he proudly declares to everyone, he got his rank quite young and his achievements are nothing short of the greatest - the only problem with him, is that he is quite...well, silly when it comes to social situations. Our man never had much female attention growing up, he doesn't know how to play the relationship game, intimidations to him comes much, much easier than confessions, and he wouldn't really play with you before you would be certain he is interested. He likes you? He takes you home, no questions asked. he tried flowers one time, you were looking so surprised and adorable, telling him how thoughtful he is about giving you the decor for the apartment, there must have been a sale in a flower shop somewhere. He is devastated, completely, he is heartbroken and understands that you can't be trusted with your life. In his mind, unfortunately, as Konig has very outdated views on gender equality, there are two types of girls - his colleagues, the badasses that he can't ever see in a sexual way, and weak little angels who need protection. you and your dumb, naive eyes fall perfectly into the second category - and you could almost feel the way he strips away your rights along with your clothes. It's not even that he is annoyed by you being dumb - he loves it. You cry for him and ask why you can't leave, and he would just distract you with some dumb and nerdy monologue about his favorite lego set or something! He keeps you as airheaded as he possibly can.

[blkkizzat]

Gurl have u ever gotten a Brazilian? Like tbh i like my hair but i want my butt strip gone, it's so hard to do myself tho 😭 how do u shave properly?? Also u need like a kizzatips or kizzahacks tag bc u fr have bomb advice chile

Aweeee nonny bb ur too kind im glad y'all thnk my advice is useful haha. but sure ill make a tag: #☾❣𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉𝖍𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖘

but yes ive been getting them done for years but i recently started doing my own! i sugar my whole body. kewchie and butthole included! i use this sugar off amazon i love it cause its no heat required. it will warm in your hands. but make sure if you're a coarse hair girlie you get the hard wax. its $40 for the tub i bought it in sept and im only half way through. You will need a butter knife to digg it out though. its a bit pricey probably around $120-150 to get everything you need to wax at home (or everything i need cause im in grown prone).

more under the cut!

but you buy it once and it will last for months when getting a brazilian at a salon can be like $90 and you get that every 6 weeks thats so much money!

here are the other stuff you need (these are all the products i use most is to combat razor burn/folliculitis):

wax strips - technically you can sugar yourself JUST with the sugar but its gonna take you a minute to get used to dealing with it. ive been doing it for 4 months and im just getting comfy not using any wax strips at all.

pre/post solution - prep is important because it makes it so you grab the hair and not the skin.

aloe - skin calming and well help with any reddness/irritation

razor bump gel - get this if you tend to get mild razor burn

bha 2% - get this for mild-moderate razor burn

acne spot cream - this is if you happen to get folliculitis or super bad razor burn. I usually get a couple of these everytime and they look so gross the first time you get one you may panic and think its an std lol. its super cheap so id pick some up just in case as if you are new to self-waxing you will probably damage some hair follicles which will cause this. this is a SPOT treatment do not put it on anywhere else it will dry you tf out. honestly this is my go to, i even put this on the mild stuff cause you never know if its gonna turn ito something bigger.

wax powder- essentially baby powder but this one has vitamin e and aloe in it and is talc free. you can never be using too much powder. powder is what also helps the sugar stick to hairs only.

salicylic acid cream - im prone to chicken skin so i always use this, building up a habit of using SA cream will keep your pores clear and less likely to even get razor burn.

body wash exfoliator - this is the best stuff ive ever used tbh. pricey but a lil goes a LONG way. (use day before wax and day after its too abrasive for same day showers).

latex gloves, optional, i bought them and you can but once you get used to handling wax i feel like you wont need them. also i have long ass nails so i kept breaking them fhdfvkjsdhbfhjkv. if you keep your hands cool and put powder on them it should stick that badly.

body hydraulic acid - OPTIONAL but my skin is baby butt smooth using this shit.

tri fold mirror - OPTIONAL but highly reccomended as im usually sitting on a towel on my bathroom floor with my legs in the air and its helpful to have inorder to see what you are doing.

honestly im saving though to buy an IPL laser from alibaba. i found a dealer who sells the same lasers they be selling to salons, but its like $1.5k with shippig lol. but laser hair removal packages can be super expensive and you need like 20 so you'd save money doing it yourself too lol. but for now im waxing.

I would look up waxing vids to see how to do it. but some tips i have are:

you can never use too much powder, powder is what helps you grip hair not skin

trim down your hair (coochie) if its too bushy, not super duper short but long hairs will mat in the waxand be harder to grip the root.

if you are doing a dense patch of hair stair from the outer edges and work your way in.

ideally you want to be a lil cold so dont turn on the heat or heat lamp in the bathroom, don't do this after a shower or a work out or if you've just been outside and its really hot. your skin needs to be room temp or colder or wax will melt too fast.

if you end up fucking up and gettng wax stuck in a large area thats where the wax strips come in handy. try to spread it out as much as you can. then starting at the edges grab bits where its over the root and wax that, bit by bit. if its too much for you can always just wash it off, its sugar so it washes off. but wash with cold water and you will have to dry your skin and do the prep all over again or try again later so the best bet is to have wax strips handy.

if you are a straight/thin haired girlie you can do softer wax, and try sugardoh kits. i used it before i bought the harder wax (just use baby powder or even baking powder works lol). it comes with alot of stuff already and is a good intro kit. however i did not think the wax was firm enough for my thick/curly hair and melted far too easily for my liking. but its a good intro kit and comes with a lot of tips.

if you have a stray hair that wont come out thats when you get out the tweezers, after 3 passes please don't wax that area anymore you could damager your skin.

note if waxing still isn't your thing, then this is my fav epilator cream. i have really sensitive skin and unlike nair it doesn't burn or cause irritation. however course hair girlies i would recco you glob it on and keep on your skin for around 15-20 min. it says 5-10 but I need longer tbh with my thicker hair. I haven't had any problems with skin irritation but I would suggest starting with 5-10 first.

hope this helps!

[sagaduwyrm]

On the Grounds Where We Feel Safe

When Tim gets a letter claiming to hold his soulmate, who he's never met, hostage, he's skeptical. It turns out pretty great though. Now if he can just make sure not to make a fool of himself.

We have your soulmate , the letter claimed. It seemed ludicrous. Tim hadn’t even met his soulmate yet, and it wasn’t like Red Robin’s mark had ever been exposed. There was no way some D-list villain could have found whoever it was. Really, he should only be going to this for the chance to catch the annoying asshole.

It just seemed like a weird lie, was the thing. If they just wanted to lure him out, there had to be more believable options. Claiming to have captured one of the other members of Young Justice or another bat would have made the most sense. His teammates went no-contact for various reasons all the time, so it’s not like he could double-check.

But no. They had his soulmate, apparently. It just seemed inane.

They were more competent than expected. Tim snuck into the facility with the ease of long practice, but they must have had magic wards because he tripped some kind of alarm barely a few minutes in. He would have noticed a technological system, but his abilities with magic were more limited, like most bats. In the immortal words of Jason Todd, ‘Just set it on fire and call Zatanna if that doesn’t work.’

Tim was eighty percent sure Jason was the only bat with any real degree of familiarity with magic, but that was neither here nor there. It just made the advice more accurate.

It was kicking his ass now though. Usually he’d be doing this with a team, hopefully with at least one person who could have noticed wards, but he had drastically underestimated the size and threat of this operation.

Generic security guards dragged him through the halls, and he did his best to memorize the layout. He’d taken out the first few thugs, but frankly, he was only human, and he needed to save his energy for something more useful. In the meantime, he pressed the only emergency beacon he had that would eventually worm through the wards to call his family and examined the halls they were dragging him through. The atrocious minimalism and poor layout design were making it irritatingly difficult to keep them straight in his head.

There were four villains in the room he was brought to, three more than he was expecting. One wore a thick cloak she’d probably bought off Etsy and a cheap Eye of Horus necklace, and Tim instantly pegged her as responsible for his magic problems.

“Woooow. You assholes know how to make a Robin feel loved. What’s the occasion? Is it Christmas? You shouldn’t have.” Tim bared his teeth in a smile that had his guards leaning away from him. If he could just get them talking, this would be a lot easier.

One, the leader, threw back her head and cackled. “What’s the occasion? What’s the occasion? Didn’t you read our note? Meeting your soulmate is the chance of a lifetime! We're doing you a favor, don’t you think?” She grinned down at him. He tilted his head, bird-like.

“You know, I’m pretty sure I could swing a better meeting than this. Get some candles, jazz up the place a little bit. Your interior decorating is kind of shit.” Tim channeled the robin spirit of his predecessors and took a shot at annoying them. Instead, the woman’s demented grin grew wider.

“But your blood will look so pretty on the floors! Do you think we’ll kill him or you first? I can’t decide!” Her teeth had red in them, Tim noticed. She turned to the guards at the door. “Bring him in!”

Fuck. So they did have a hostage. Probably some poor civilian who’d got dragged into these assholes' lark and was going to need years of therapy after this. Fuck his life.

A few tense minutes later the guards walked back in carrying a black teenager maybe a little taller than Tim between them. He was struggling, doing his level best to kick at their ankles and jab at their kidneys, but the mercs didn’t even shift. Tim was grateful the hostage was a fighter at least, that could make it easier to evacuate him.

The lead villain strolled over to the civilian. Honestly, Tim wasn’t sure why the rest were here. They practically faded into the walls. She seized the boy’s chin and he tried to spit at her. She laughed. “Our little witch spent months divining for this! Ready?” She cackled and dragged his face over to meet Tim’s eyes. They both froze.

His eyes were green, Tim noticed, and lined thickly in black, like kohl. They dug into Tim's chest like his heart was moving to make room for another, two hearts beating as one. Everything felt more vibrant and alive. Tim couldn’t breathe.

The leader was still laughing, he noticed distantly. She had slumped back against the wall to keep from falling over, and her entire body shook with contortions. Her eyes were bright with bloodlust.

Tim was fucked. He was so completely fucked. Not only because this guy was stupid pretty and he could practically feel his higher brain functions turning off, leaving him a steaming pile of bisexual goo, but because his soulmate was barely five feet from a villain who practically dripped insanity, and he still had thirty seconds to go before he got his hands untied. Absolutely, completely, and totally fucked.

The other boy had stilled when their eyes met, but he tensed again as one of the other villains stalked towards him.

“I knew it,” the man snarled. “I knew it. I wonder, if I hurt you, will Red Robin bleed?”

The boy's eyes widened before hardening. Tim desperately hoped he didn’t do anything stupid. His call signal still needed more time to get through to his family. 

“Don’t damage him just yet!” the leader called out. “Start with his fingers and toes, we want this to last .” Her grin was alarmingly demented.

The other boy finally had enough. “Yeah, let’s not.” He kicked out at the ankle of the guard holding onto him, causing the man to release him. At the same time, Tim made his move. Fuck, civilians with no sense of self-preservation were the bane of any vigilante, but it being his soulmate was somehow worse. If he could just get over there in time—

A rush of sand curled up around the boy, as if from nowhere, and launched the villain near him into a wall. His eyes glowed golden, and his stance indicated some training. Not a civilian, then. 

Tim kept moving. He dumped half a dozen taser bugs on anyone in reach, leaving them keeled over on the ground, and darted forward. The guards had left the door open when they brought the other boy in. Tim grabbed him and launched out the door, practically carrying him, while the boy did something over his shoulder to hold off pursuers. The way out was blocked, but the facility was huge. They eventually managed to lose the villains, tucked up in some kind of meat locker. They curled up against the walls, catching their breath.

“You know, this was not how I expected our first meeting to go,” the other boy said.

Tim laughed, “I’ll be honest, with my luck this isn’t really a surprise.” The other boy snorted. He was beautiful when he laughed. It was an ugly sort of giggle, the kind the media would mock a person for, the kind his parents trained out of him as their heir, but it lit up his face in a way that made Tim stare. He belatedly remembered to introduce himself. “Red Robin.”

“From Gotham, right? Call me Pharaoh.”

Tim squinted at him. He was putting on a good show of confidence, but there was a tenseness to his body that couldn’t be hidden, and some of the summoned sand floating near him was curling into tight knots. “Haven’t heard that code name before. You new?”

Pharaoh waved his hand in a so-so gesture. “It’s mostly just that I stick to my hometown. We’re tiny, so we stay off the radar. And I usually manage to stay out of the news anyway.”

Tim nodded, but his eyes sharpened. Deliberately keeping out of the news wasn’t exactly a red flag, but it usually indicated something about the person in question. If you had a code name that you were clearly used to, but didn’t use for the public… There weren’t exactly any conclusions he could draw yet, but he tucked the knowledge away into the back of his brain anyway. “Do you have anyone you can call?” he asked.

The boy grimaced. “Not really. Two are out of the country, one doesn’t carry a phone, and the other is the only person back home right now and I can’t ask her to leave.”

Reasonable. The bats refuse to leave Gotham without at least one of them too. “I sent out a call, but it’s going to take a bit for it to get past the wards.”

“Can I see? I might be able to speed it up.”

Tim handed over his beacon. “You’re a magic user?” He was guessing sand-manipulating meta, but magic made sense too.

“Uh-huh. I’m not the greatest with wards, but I am a dab hand at tech,” Pharaoh said while prying open the beacon. As he held it, golden light crept from his hands into the wires, forming shapes that looked like some of the hieroglyphics his parents used to obsess over. Tim was vaguely surprised. Constantine had once mentioned that there were only a few people in the world who could do any kind of technomagic. Even the magic on his gear was secondary to the tech rather than embedded in it.

Tim got up and started looking around the room as Pharaoh worked. They couldn’t stay here for long. He moved some furniture around to block the door. It should collapse on the head of anyone who tried to get in. He shifted one of the ceiling tiles around and found there was a good amount of space between the floors. Perfect.

Pharaoh shouted in delight and Tim turned to see the connection light on the beacon turn on. Assuming there wasn’t some kind of emergency, they should have backup reasonably soon. The other boy was still grinning, “Dude, I think I’m in love with your tech. This is amazing.”

“If you like that you should see the batcomputer.”

“Can I? I do most of my stuff on a PDA I retrofitted, this is so much better it’s not even funny.”

“A PDA?” Tim blinked in confusion. How would you even—? He shook his head and gestured at the ceiling. “We need to get moving. They’ll have an easier time finding us if we stay here.”

Pharaoh nodded, still smiling from his apparent enjoyment of working with basic tech with little to no computational abilities. He clambered his way up with apparent experience. Tim wondered what kind of problems his hometown had that they needed a magic user who could do parkour.

Where Pharaoh needed a lift Tim scampered up. The sorcerer whistled quietly. “What kind of training do you even have?”

“Assasination, mostly,” Tim said as he started leading the way through the crawl space, carefully showing Pharaoh where to put his feet to make the least amount of noise.

“I thought bats didn’t kill?”

“Knowing how to kill is actually more useful in not killing people than not knowing how to kill, believe it or not.” Lady Shiva hated that.

“Huh. That sounds useful. I have to use specific spells when I want to just knock someone out, and I’m not as good at them so it’s a bit of a pain.”

“You like magic?” Data gathering, data gathering, if he was asking questions he wasn’t thinking about how nice Pharaoh’s voice was or how pretty his eyes were.

“Yeah. It’s like a puzzle, you know? There’s a lot of similarities to coding if you had to argue with the computer the whole time.”

Tim snorted.

They stilled at the sound of someone passing under them, and when they were gone Tim turned around for a second. “Hey, what do you think about picking some of these guys off?” He’d originally planned to keep them out of the fight until backup arrived, but he was getting the impression more and more that Pharaoh was competent enough to keep up for a bit.

Pharaoh grinned, and it was a sharp, unkind thing. For a moment he looked as regal as a king about to declare war, and Tim wondered if there was more to the code name than he had assumed. “I thought you’d never ask.”

+++

“Where are they?!” the leader of the villains roared. “The facility is completely locked down, they couldn’t have gotten far!”

The guards winced and opened their mouths to explain when the door slammed open and one of the other villains ran in. He was bleeding, with weeping sores up and down his arms and crush damage on his fingers. “They’re picking off the guards!”

“What? What the fuck happened to you?” The leader screamed. The witch villain, who had been melting into the wall, ran over to attempt healing magic. The others barely noticed her.

“Three-quarters of our men are unconscious, and won’t wake up. And that little ‘civilian’ soulmate tried to crush me with sand!”

The witch spoke quietly. “He must have cursed you too. This isn’t healing.” The villain looked down at his wounded arms and screamed. Golden hieroglyphs climbed their way out of the blood and up his arm, and he felt his body go numb. Within thirty seconds he had keeled over unconscious except for the occasional scream, like he was struggling with nightmares wherever his mind had gone.

“No no no no no! This was supposed to be it! Our big break! You!” The leader turned to the witch. “You said he was a civilian! This was supposed to be easy!”

Out of nowhere the ceiling above them crumbled and down came several bats and members of Young Justice. When they finally got the beacon it took them almost an hour to get to the location, leaving them tense and ready to take it out on Tim's captors.

“I hope we aren’t interrupting anything!”

The door banged open again as they finished mopping up the remaining villains and mercenaries. Red Robin and a boy in civilian clothes tumbled through the door.

“Hey! You’re late!” Tim yelled.

Robin hissed at his older brother. “You needed help to save a single civilian then?”

Tim grinned an unholy grin. “Oh, right. This is Pharaoh. He’s my soulmate.”

The room burst into yelling.

[ef-1]

Transcribed Excerpts from Christian Horner's hour long Interview that are batshit insane and so narratively dense you'd think they're lifted wholesale from a book, featuring:

The most in depth, behind the scenes view of what transpired in 2018

Fords CEO getting in touch with Dax to gush about how much he likes Daniel

Christian feeling vindictive towards Daniel

Christian comparing Sebastian and Max

Christian comparing Daniel to Roger Federer

How Christian had to mitigate Helmut's shitshow and personally asking Dietrich to give Daniel everything he wanted

Hilarious rapid fire in the end and his perspective on the failure of Ferrari

●●● <- indicates a time skip

Dax: In tennis you see guys when they lose steam, they break apart.

Christian Horner : you see that with checo.

●●●

[Dax mentions that in Christian's position, a lot of people would not have invited Daniel back into the family. "Because Daniel turned his back on the family." ]

Christian: Daniel's a great guy. Very badly advised in his early career. Everybody fucks up at some point. I think he recognizes that he made a mistake. He didn't have good advice around him at the point he left us. Having spent time outside the family he realized what he had here was actually good. It was horrible to see that it got worse and worse after us. It was actually this time last year in Mexico where I sat down with him in my hotel room, I told him you need a complete reset- take a year out. Come back to us.

Dax: He's such a win for you guys.

Christian: Totally.

Dax: you sent Daniel to Jim Farley [ CEO of Ford] and I know Jim Farley and he got in touch with me and told me "That Daniel Ricciardo guy is the greatest!" I'm like to him: he's the dream, send him anywhere.

●●●

Christian: He's [Daniel] a confidence driver, when he's got his mojo, he one of the fastest guys on the grid.

Dax: he's lethal.

Christian: yep.

Dax: he's got that magic thing that people either have or don't have in my opinion which is: there are winners and there are not winners

[you're not ready for this lol]

Christian: He came to us, he's one of our juniors, I remember going to watch him in formula 3, he really stood out. Very smooth. Just great. Naturally. Like a Roger Federer kind of style behind the wheel, very very classic. Light touch. Great, great skill. And then he came through the system [RB program] when we had Sebastian Vettel, 4 time world champion- Mark Webber retired. We chose Daniel as the Junior, with no expectation on him and he started beating Vettels ass. he won 3 races in 2014 when we had FAR from the best engine, Sebastian never won a race that year.

Dax: Even his time at Mclaren, it sucked for him but he's the only one who won a race.

Christian: He IS the only one who won a race.

Dax: and for a long time now.

Christian: and Renault he had great performances. [...] he's got to feel the love. He's got to feel comfortable in the environment that he's in. Some of his races for us were- absolutely outstanding.

●●●

[Christian about the 2018 negotiations]

Christian: I asked Dietrich to show Daniel love. Helmut was obviously pro Max, I said if you could just balance things out, let him [Daniel] know you want him. Dietrich said "no problem, I'll talk to him" so he took Daniel upstairs after the race in Austria to talk to him, and they were there for well over an hour.

Dax: To the point you were nervous?

Christian: I thought SHIT! But they reappear, and they're both smiling, I tell him: "Dietrich, how did it go?" He says,"No problem, don't worry about it. It's not even a question [that daniel would leave]"

Christian: Then we went to Germany, and his engine blew up. His engine kept letting him down, letting him down, letting him down. But from there, we went to Hungary, and we got his paperwork [Daniel's contract] for a TWO year deal all sorted out. Daniel's manager came to me and said 'listen Daniel is nervous about the engine' because we were going to switch to Honda so his manager said: 'he'll do ONE year' I thought wow. That's not really what we talked about, because in 6 months we'll be having the same conversation. So I remember I went back to Dietrich, and I said, "it's about relationships. It's NOT about contracts. If he wants a one year contract, give him a one year contract," so at this point: he's got everything he wants. Also, at that point, Daniel was doing a test for us after the Hungarian race, I thought Daniel will sign the paperwork on Monday, suddenly Monday goes and he's in the car on Tuesday. I'm starting to smell something because this is an enormous deal, you'd have thought he'd be in a rush to sign this contract. And he didn't sign the contract before he got in the car in the morning and I thought he'd sign by lunchtime but it didn't happen. He had to get out of the car and go straight to the airport because he's flying from here to LA and I thought he'll call me. I'm feeling something at this point.

Dax: you know you're about to be broken up with.

Christian: yeah.

Dax: if your girlfriend didn't show up to lunch then dinner-

Christian: exactly. So- he [daniel] rings me, I was in the car with Geri, he tells me "I just got off the plane, I arrived in LA, and I've been thinking on the flight, all the way here- I'm not going to sign the contract. I'm going to take another contract. [...] he tells me Renault? The engine that let him down for 2 years? I was convinced, I was CONVINCED- because Daniel has got a sense of humour- I thought- he's taking the piss. I thought come on. I told him: come on. There is no way. You're not going to Renault, stop fucking about, just sign the contract. After 10 minutes he finally persuaded me that he was going to Renault. It was disappointing.

Dax: I wanna applaude you, because a lot of people who go through that experience think: fuck you.

Christian: there was an element of that. I thought: go and suck on a lemon for a bit. But actually during the pandemic, I remember he called me and said "Christian I hate to say this to you but you were right"

•••

Christian thinks Max > Vettel

Christian about Alex and Pierre being teammates with Max: he broke them

[Very confused in this part because Christian like? Says the best thing for Checo to perform is to forget about Max, stop trying to compete with him, stop looking at his data? Girl you are NOT selling it rn]

•••

When Christian is asked to analyse Red Bull's champions, he thinks Sebastian and Max are diametrically opposed . Sebastian is your stereotypical German, he would be at the track until 11 to analyse data. Max is not interested in all the detail [devasting news for all the bitches who spent years trying to dunk on Daniel by calling him not technical, Christian seems to think that Daniel and Max share a natural ability that doesn't rely on data.] He [Max] Gives you just what he needs to go faster. Max hates testing, has no interest in it.

●●●

Christian confirms he has a lucky toilet.

●●●

Christian says in 2014-18 Red Bull came this 🤏 close to selling to Audi.

●●●

Christian: Drive to Survive is the Kardashians on wheel

●●●

Christian: You get characters like Gunther Steiner. How scary is he. He used to work for us, I had to be the one to fire him.

●●●

Christian on why he believes Ferrari have failed over the last 15 years: Ferrari is a national institution instead of a Team. It needs to become a racing team again. Too many people have input at the top.