#retire already fr

[petterssonshootsandscores]

ivan provorov’s legacy is that he is horrible at hockey, his gf tried to claim on instagram that he isn’t involved in DrAkE tHE PupStAR’s page, and that he’s scared of rainbow jerseys, what a freaking loser 

[b0bthebuilder35]

[ackee]

interesting looking back and realizing me being into anime was a hyperfixation. for years in elementary - middle school i'd come home everyday.. look through all the new anime for the season on goodanime.net (rip). and watch through so many mid anime just to get my fix......

anyone remember mayoi neko overrun? what abt asobi ni iku yo? of course not they were forgettable harem animes. but 11 yr old me was clocking in like it was my JOB fr

[jessi--ac]

.

[junrandot]

can usfsa and cbc refrain from putting immense amounts of pressure on their very young athletes?

the answer is ‘no’

the article

[captainfern]

omg omg cap please i’m begging you to write this (if you have time)

HAVE YOU SEEN that specific scene of “Six” with Barry Sloane where him and his wife are trying fertility treatments and he basically has to j off and fill a cup and then his wife comes and calls him “my big bear” and man’s already busting with just that??? WELL-

can we get smth like this with Price? Like it doesn’t have to be that specific scenario just smth where his s/o is jerking him off and calls him a name, and he immediately comes, but that’s exactly not the end of it? YOU GET IT

i’ve been thinking about it an unhealthy amount these past days… I’m literally foaming at the mouth.

Anonymous asked: Been seeing a lot of Bear appreciation on here, so what about... C. Price and reader trying to (naturally, of course) conceive? Maybe he's on injury leave or something! He gets hurt and now is the perfect time to tell him she wants him to retire and put a baby in her >:) I just see that scene from SIX and go feral every time. Breeding kink go wild 🙏

Anonymous asked: Dbf!price x reader mating press? Or or or price taking her somewhere nice for dinner and they go back to his place and he leads her through it while doin the nasty….

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

In Utero

Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“In Utero” Album by Nirvana]

[18+]

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

• summary - you and price are trying for a baby lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 3.9k • warnings - fem!reader, civilian!reader, some possessive!price, handjobs, unprotected piv (obviously), praise, breeding kink, creampies, mating press, talks of pregnancy n babies blah blah blah, body worship, breeding kink (again cause i'm being so fr), price calls you mama at one point (*whispering* is this a mommy kink? i don't know. i don't think so? but idk take this how you will), strong language

the amount of breeding kink related requests i get for this man is crazy 😭 some of you should be studied cause oh my god (i am not complaining)

killing three birds with one stone with this one. changed it a little but hope you all enjoy :)

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

It had been a long few days on base, and Price had been looking forward to coming home to you.

He loved nothing more than returning home to you after work. You'd greet him, looking absolutely fucking stunning, and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and cradle him to you. He'd breath you in, absorb your presence, his mind running a million miles an hour as he hugged you back.

You were his. And he was so happy.

Price never considered himself a very possessive person. But when it came to you, his wife, he felt an overwhelming urge to ensure everyone knew you were his.

He was so, so proud of you. He's always show you off, worship the ground you walked on. He'd hold your hand, or guide you with a hand to the base of your spine in public. He wasn't afraid to pin your body next to his in a crowd, either.

It was much the same in the bedroom.

Price would worship your entire body. He'd kiss up and down the length of it, from head to toe. He'd take extra care in massaging different parts of you that he loved– your tits, your waist, your hips, your arse, your thighs. He'd smooth his fingers over your skin, trailing kisses in their wake, whispering sweet praise and affirmations as he did so.

When he'd finally reach your face, he'd kiss you with as much passion and force as the sea. Cradling your head, holding your face, moving his lips warmly against yours, probing your mouth with his tongue, deepening the kiss so he could be closer to you.

He loved you.

You were his, and he was yours.

•º•

You had gone for a night out with your friends, leaving Price alone at home.

To keep him occupied in the silence of the house, he cleaned and cooked, listening to his music. He cooked up a meal that he stored in the fridge for later, then he proceeded to clean what he could of the house. He wanted to ensure you got home from having fun and didn't have to lift a finger.

And so Price could have you all to himself for the night.

You returned home hours later, the sun sinking past the horizon. You entered your home, your social battery ticking downwards, and Price was in front of you as soon as the front door was closed and locked.

He wrapped you in his arms, your face to his chest, and you returned the hug as he placed his chin on the top of your head.

"You had fun, sweetheart?" Price asked, taking a deep breath after pressing his nose to the crown of your head.

You hummed into his chest. "Yeah, it was nice."

You pulled out of the hug, and Price held your hand as you walked him into the living room. The both of your flopped down onto the couch. You couldn't help but admire the way he spread his legs when he sat, and the expansion of his thighs beneath his sweatpants as they made contact with the couch cushions.

You squeezed your thighs together, heat blooming in your core. A giddy, almost nervous feeling swelled in your chest as you locked eyes with your husband. You chewed on your bottom lip, fighting a flustered smile.

He looked so good.

Annnndddd you were ovulating.

Yep.

Evident by the fact that at just one look from your husband, one smile, your underwear was completely fucking soaked.

Price released a breathy laugh. "What?"

You whined, still biting your lip and smiling. "You look so handsomeeeee." You said, dragging out the final word.

He laughed again, eyes twinkling. Your eyes scanned his face, then you were crawling across the couch. He shifted, leaning back so you could crawl onto his lap, arse across his thick thighs. You ran your hands up and down his torso, feeling the smooth ridges of his muscle beneath his shirt. He hummed in the back of his throat, eyes closing, as you dragged your nails down the soft bumps of his abs.

"John, can I touch you?" You asked, hands coming to rest on the waistband of his sweatpants, toying with the ridges of the elastic.

"You are touching me." Price joked, opening his eyes. He settled his hands on your hips and squeezed gently.

You rolled your eyes. "I want your cock."

Price couldn't help but laugh through his moan as you shimmied his sweatpants and boxers down, pulling out his hardening cock. He groaned deeply as you pumped him a couple of times to full stiffness, before swiping your thumb across the head.

His hips bucked, twitching against the couch. You continued to fist him tightly while leaning over and letting a string of saliva fall from your mouth. It dripped across the tip of his cock, and Price let out a throaty moan, the grip on your hips tightening.

You used your saliva to make your hand glide, pumping him quickly. Usually, your stokes would be languid, seductive, as you prepped to either take him in your mouth or in your cunt. But this time, your movements were purposely fast, and the grunts in Price's quick breathing was an indicator that he liked it.

The wet clicks were consecutive as you stroked his cock from base to tip– squeezing tighter near the base, twisting near the tip. Price grumbled contentedly as you did so, beads of pre-cum leaking from his slit. He watched you with hooded eyes, a fucked out smile on his face as you jerked him off.

"Haven't even been home five minutes and you were so desperate for my cock, huh, sweetheart?" Price mused, hips jerking and cock twitching as you sped up the movement of your hand. He groaned, closing his eyes for a moment. He forced them open, watching your hand for a second, before finding your face. He smiled, leaning forward to try and kiss you. "Mmm this is your cock, isn't it, baby? You can have it whenever you want..."

He kissed you, and you let him. You let his tongue lick along the seam of your lips, and you allowed him to coax your mouth open, a moan passing from his to yours. You continued fisting his cock, heating up against your palm, the tip flushed and glistening.

You pulled out of the kiss and with his eyes closed, Price rested his forehead against yours, mouth agape. He opened his eyes eventually, looking down at where you rapidly stroked his throbbing cock. He let out a quiet groan, flecks of pre-cum splattering onto his shirt at the pace at which you jerked him off.

He was close, his release building higher with each stroke of your hand. He held your hips tighter, grinding you onto his lap, and you moaned quietly, sweetly. He groaned in response, lifting his mouth to try and kiss you. You backed up a bit, enough so his lips were just brushing yours.

"John?" You whispered, and he released a quiet groan at that.

"Mmm?" He didn't have the cognitive ability to reply with words at his point, solely focussed on the way you were stroking his cock, and his looming orgasm.

You pressed a brief kiss to his lips, then pulled back. He watched you, eyelids drooping, eyes glassy, and you couldn't help but smile. You leaned back in, and whispered, "I want you to put a baby in me."

Price let out a loud, guttural groan. "Holy fuck."

He came abruptly, thick ropes painting your hand and his shirt. He moaned your name, cock twitching as strings of white dribbled down your fingers and across his now semi-hard length. Price pressed forward, kissing you, and you pumped him a couple more times before you were retracting your hand. You moved your head away, and licked his cum off your fingers. His eyes rolled, and he slumped back against the couch with a groan.

"You liked that, huh?" You teased, creeping your fingers beneath his shirt and slowly pushing it up, revealing the dark happy trail that led from his navel to his pelvis.

He hummed his agreement as you pulled his shirt further, and he sat up, lifting his arms so you could pull it off all the way. You tossed it aside before running the flat of your hands up and down his body. He hummed again, this time in content as you massaged the flesh of his pectorals, running your thumbs over his nipples and making him jerk against the couch.

"D'you mean what you said?" Price suddenly asked as you dragged your nails down the grooves in his abs. Goosebumps raised along his skin.

"What, about putting a baby in me?" You smiled, and he groaned, head flopping backwards again. You ran your fingers through the hair of his happy trail, following it down to his cock, still sticky with his release. You took hold of it again, and you felt it slowly hardening. Your smile grew. "Oh, I'm serious, John."

You pumped him slowly, gently, until he was fully hard in your hand once more. Price's breathing was laboured as he kept his head tossed back, eyes screwed shut. His chest rose and fell.

You stripped yourself of your own shirt and bra while he was occupied, managing to do so while still gently stroking his cock. Then, you raised yourself, and wiggled your skirt off– you had to use both hands to do this.

With your hand gone from his cock, Price pulled his head forward to see what you were doing. He released a breathy moan, immediately bringing his hands to your waist. You laughed as he dragged you forward and buried his face between your tits. You threaded your hands into his hair, scratching gently at his scalp as he kissed the soft skin of your chest.

His hands rubbed your waist, your lower back. Then, one hand still on your lower back, the other came to rest on your tummy, and he rubbed it gently.

"Wanna get you pregnant," he whispered into your sternum. "Mhm... mhm... wanna put a baby in you."

You felt your core throb red-hot at his words, your entire body thrumming with sexual energy that really, really needed to be released. You still had your underwear on, and you could feel your arousal dripping into the soft cotton fabric.

Face still in between the mounds of your breasts, Price dragged his hands away from your stomach and back and hooked his fingers beneath the waistline of your underwear. He slowly pulled them down until they were mid-thigh and couldn't go any further with the way you were sprawled across his lap.

Price shifted his head to the side, taking one of your nipples into his mouth as he took two fingers and ran them up and down your wet slit. You keened, looking down at him with a whimper of his name. He looked up at you, mouth suctioned around your tit, as he dragged two fingers through your folds.

He retracted, moving to repeat his actions on your other nipple as he gently pushed his two fingers inside of you. You released a moan from low in your throat, holding yourself steady on your husbands shoulders as he fingered you open. He continued to watch you, tongue and teeth against your sensitive flesh, revelling in the way your tight walls clutched at his fingers.

Drops of arousal pooled past his knuckles and through the lines in his palm. He angled his hand so the drops dripped onto his lap, and the heel of his palm ground against your puffy clit. You gasped, hand shooting upwards to tug on Price's hair, his teeth scraping the bud of your nipple at the same time.

"John, I need you." You whined, trying desperately to grind yourself onto the heel of his palm. He let you, the pressure on your swollen clit making your eyes drop closed and your mouth drop open.

"What do you want from me?" He asked in a whisper, curling his fingers inside you and making your body alight with pleasure. The base of your tummy drew tight as the pads of his fingers worked that spot inside you.

"Need your cock," you whined impatiently, your climax just inches away from you. "Please, please, need you to fill me up."

You clenched around his fingers as he continued to hit that spot inside you. He applied more pressure to your clit, throbbing in tandem with the heartbeat in your chest. Price changed the angle of your sitting arrangement, so he could now comfortably kiss up the column of your neck.

"Need my cock, eh? Just need me to fill you up?" He murmured into your ear as he fucked his fingers into you. "I'll fill you up, sweetheart, I will. Fill you up niceeee and full. Fill this pretty tummy with my kids, eh, baby?"

His words made you come around his fingers without much warning. You pushed yourself against him, orgasm knocking you off balance as it wracked through you. Price fingered you through it, his other hand on your lower back and keeping your body close to his. He kissed you and although you struggled to kiss him back, you were still moaning his name into his mouth.

Price kissed you again, and then peppered kisses across your face as he took his fingers out of you. He grabbed your hips in both hands and helped you off his lap, standing you on your feet as he followed. Your underwear dropped the rest of the way down your thighs, and you quickly kicked them across the room as you grabbed Price by the shoulders and pulled him back into you.

Price's sweatpants and boxers fell and he kicked them away too as he kissed you, wrapping his arms around you. Still kissing, he led you out of the living room and eventually, the two of you made it to your bedroom, breathless.

He pushed you down onto your bed, and you giggled as he immediately followed after you, pinning your body beneath his. The weight of him made your cunt throb, arousal sticky against your inner thighs. The warm, solid form of his cock against your inner thigh made you moan, scratching your nails down his back.

"Can't wait for you to have my kids... our kids..." Price drawled between lazy kisses as he notched the head of his cock at your dripping cunt, smearing your arousal around your hole. "You're gonna look so pretty as a mum, aren't you, baby? Gonna be such a good mama."

Price pushed into you in one solid thrust, knocking the air from your lungs. You arched your back, meshing closer to him, as the tip of his cock knocked up against your cervix. You mewled, grasping at his back, as he dragged his cock out. The sensation was slow and heavy and sparked something deep in your stomach. When he was all the way out, he playfully tapped the head of his cock to your clit a couple of times. You choked on your moan, before he was filling you up again.

"John–" You moaned outwardly, sickly sweet and making him grunt above you. He doubled his efforts, slamming into you, the rhythm rocking the bed against the wall.

His fat cock split you open, stretching your wet hole around him and pushing up into your womb. You could feel him in your stomach. You felt so full.

Price pressed a hand to your lower stomach, admiring the subtle outline of his cock beneath the soft mound of your belly. He moaned loudly, pressing harder, and the feeling made you moan as well.

"John, fuck, oh my god." You whimpered as he thrust into you, heavy and rough, dragging along the tight, wet walls of your cunt. You clenched around him, your hands desperately trying to bring him closer to you. His chest hair against your tits, his hands on your stomach and hip– you wanted, no, needed him close.

He removed his hand from your stomach, instead gripping your hips as he fucked you into the mattress. He was grunting and groaning above you, eyes never leaving the way your body and face were reacting.

"That's a good girl, taking it so well... Always take it so well, sweetheart, don't you?" Price murmured, eyes on your face. "Such a good girl taking my cock. S'like this pretty cunt was made for it, eh, baby?"

For emphasis, he increased his pace. The tip of his cock slammed into your sweet spot, and you let out an embarrassingly loud moan. His thrusts were drawing wet sounds from you, and you could feel your arousal being spread across your lower arse and inner thighs as he moved.

Your second orgasm approached quickly. Price fucked you hard, his noises of pleasure above you making you flutter around him. Your clit throbbed with a heartbeat, a thin layer of sweat settling over your naked body.

"John, John–" You tried to warn him, but failed when your orgasm slammed through you mid-sentence, rendering you speechless. You gushed around him, and he moaned, hips stuttering as your cunt squeezed around his cock, your orgasm dribbling out of you with each timed thrust.

He moaned your name. "Mmm there you go, there you go. My perfect girl, that's it. Feels good, sweetheart?"

You nodded, dizzy. "Yeah, y-yeah, fuck, so good, John, so good."

Price hummed, pleased. As you babbled, he shifted off of you for a second so he could hook his hands beneath your knees. Cock still stuffed inside you, he bent your legs and pressed them up against your chest, making you release a series of airy whimpers. He pressed his body heavily against you, holding the backs of your knees and literally folding you in half.

He began his thrusts again, and your eyes rolled at the new angle– his cock hit further, deeper inside you. The remnants of your orgasm were loud and wet as he rutted into you desperately, deep grunts falling from his mouth.

"Gotta fuck you deep, baby," he whispered, voice low. "Gotta stuff you full of my cock so it takes. Want it to take... want it to fucking take..." He punctuated each sentence with an extra heavy thrust, cock dragging against your slick walls. He groaned. "Gonna get you pregnant, sweetheart. Gonna get you fat with my kids. That's what you want, yeah? Want me to breed this pretty cunt?"

You hummed a yes. His words were making you even dizzier than you already were. You moaned and moaned, pleasure poisoning your veins as he fucked you towards a third orgasm. Your body was hot, damp with sweat. Price was warm too, strands of wet hair falling over his forehead as he looked down at you.

"Fuck, fuck," Price whispered. "You're my good girl, baby, you're my good girl. Want you to come one more time for me, okay? One more time n' then I'm gonna–" He cut himself off with a moan, but you understood.

Your body shook beneath him, your legs tightening in his grasp. Then, with a shattering moan of his name, you came around his cock. Your third orgasm fizzed through you, and it took a while to fizzle out as he rutted into you nonstop. The feeling of static pleasure lingered as he chased his high, and you whimpered quietly in his ear as he fucked your sopping cunt.

Your husband was cursing under his breath, moaning your name too. His balls slapped against the curve of your arse, sticky with your arousal, and the hands on the backs of your knees gripped tighter as his orgasm loomed. He imagined the future– you, round with his baby and looking so fucking pretty. He moaned at the thought, cock throbbing inside you.

"Oh, fuck– fuck, m'gonna come, mama," it slipped out through a moan. "M'gonna breed this pretty cunt nice and full. M'gonna give you my kids–"

Buried to the hilt inside you, Price came. A lot.

He filled you, just like he promised, and you felt the thick, hot ropes flood past your cervix. You moaned his name, and he slammed his mouth onto yours, shushing you with his tongue. He continued thrusting gently, stuffing his seed further inside you, plugging it up against your womb with the head of his cock. He groaned when you squeezed around him, gently dropping your legs from him.

Price pulled out of the kiss, resting his head in the crook of your neck. "Fuck, I love you."

"I love you too." You replied breathlessly, and the both of you lay in silence for a moment, panting like dogs in heat.

Fitting, really. The thought made you smile.

Price groaned into your neck, sucking a kiss to the skin. You pet his head gently.

"What's the matter?" You asked him, soothing the crown of his head as he bit and sucked at the curve of your shoulder.

"I just imagined you pregnant again," he uttered against you. "And now I'm hard again."

You laughed. "John, oh my god."

•º•

Several months of... trying... later, you sat in your bathroom, a positive pregnancy test in your hands. Happy tears rolled down your cheeks as you looked at the two lines.

Outside, Price knocked on the door. "You alright, sweetheart?"

You sniffled. "Yeah, m'fine."

"You sure?" Price asked as soon as he heard the slight waver in your voice. "If you're not feeling well, we can tell the boys we can reschedule dinner–"

You opened the door of the bathroom with the test behind your back. Price noticed the tears, cupping your face.

"What's wrong?"

You had always planned on revealing your future pregnancy to your husband in an elaborate way. You'd dreamed of it, actually. But, overwhelmed with excitement and relief, you simply took his hands off your face, and placed the pregnancy test in his palm. He took it, confused for a moment, eyeing it skeptically.

Then, his eyes widened, tears immediately springing to his waterline as he looked down at you.

"You're pregnant?" He was crying.

"Yeah." You were crying too.

He wrapped you in his arms, pressing you gently to him and burying his face in your hair, sobbing with happiness. Your heart clenched, the excitement rolling off of him. After a long moment, he pulled back, placing a sweet kiss to your lips.

"Told you I'd get you pregnant." He smiled, winking.

You rolled your eyes.

He laughed, then looked at the test again. He beamed, eyes twinkling. Then, he looked down at you again, eyes shining with mischief. You narrowed your eyes jokingly at him.

"What?" You fought a smile.

"Are we sure this is accurate?" He smiled. "We might, you know, have to try a couple more times, just to be sure."

"John!" You laughed.

And the two of you did have to reschedule dinner with the boys. You both got distracted.

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[clonewarsahsoka]

There is a version of me that gave up uni after first or second year and didn't return to the city and just lives at home and works a min wage job or smth and maybe she's happier maybe she's not but she is definitely less stressed but also she doesn't have the friends that I do

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙still not dating | LS18˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: lance stroll x alonso!driver!reader y/n (she/her)

genre: social media au

warnings: none jus fluff!!

summary: in which your rookie season as an f1 driver holds many surprises

a/n: omgg the second time i've written driver!reader coz i fear i suck at it but i'll always do whatever u guys ask of me tbh. 🙏

request!!!: lance x alonso!reader, where fernando is her dad and he just retired and she is lance’s new teammate at aston martin and they fall in love during her first season and are super cute? Kinda friends to lovers vibes

my masterlist

fc: daisy edgar jones

twitter ->

messages ->

instagram ->

ynalonso

liked by lance_stroll, francisca.cgomes, and others

ynalonso the rumours are trueee

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user1 CONGRATULATIONS QUEEN

user2 oh thts my girl FOR REAL

user3 congrats 🥹🥹🥹🥹

user4 she's only got it coz of her dad 💀

user5 oh c'mon her credentials speak for themselves.

user6 jus u wait till nxt season

user7 aston marton nepotism team 🙄

user8 fr losing all credibility a bit

user9 BE SOOOO FOR FREAKING REAL RN

user10 about to go to war defending y/n

liked by ynalonso

lance_stroll congratulations again! my favourite alonso!

fernandoalo_oficial watch your back. also flirting with my daughter where i can see it? bold move

lance_stroll excuse me?!

fernandoalo_oficial you're excused.

ynalonso PLEASEEEEE HAHAHAHA

lance_stroll for the record i wasnt flirting

user11 HAHAHAHA

user12 yea right

user13 he's so flirting

user14 ynlance dream team oh it's happening

ynalonso posted a story

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estebanocon congratulations y/n! cant wait to celebrate with you tonight!!

ynalonso tysm estie 🫶🫶

mickschumacher CONGRATULATIONSSSSS

ynalonso ahhh!!!! thank you!!!

pierregasly congrats! see you soon

liked by ynalonso

alex_albon SO so deserved!!!

ynalonso 🥹🥹🥹

francisca.cgomes beautiful angel cant wait to see you beating pierre on the track next season

ynalonso cant wait to see YOU in the aston martin garage 👀

francisca.cgomes oh stop it you!!!!

schecoperez congratulations !

liked by ynalonso

landonorris well done 👏

liked by ynalonso

maxverstappen1 so excited to have you on track y/n!

ynalonso ahh such an honour to race alongside (way way behind) you!

maxverstappen1 oh im sure i'll see you up on the podium very soon

ynalonso 🥹

time skip 💚

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lance_stroll posted a story

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landonorris are you dating her mate?

lance_stroll what?? no just friends

landonorris oh my bad 👍

user15 AHHH ynlance crumbs

user16 they r so srs to meee

user17 jus date already.

user18 baby y/nnn

user19 love her sm

mickschumacher aww you guys are cute!

lance_stroll ? we're friends

mickschumacher yea that's what i mean! haha

ynalonso

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ynalonso im jus having the best time

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user20 oh i love her

user21 fav driver for a reasonnnn

user22 PODIUM IN THE NEXT RACE

liked by ynalonso

user23 her liking....and the next gp is barcelona too

user24 SHE'S COOKINGGG

user25 proving the haters wrong every single dayyy

yourbff MY GIRLLLL

ynalonso im coming home babyyy!!

yourbff iktr 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

fernandoalo_oficial so proud of you 💚

ynalonso 🥹🥹🥹

user26 AHHH THEY R SO SRS TO MEEE

lance_stroll still waiting for you to catch me up 👀

ynalonso oh jus you wait. we'll be on MY turf soon!

lance_stroll cant wait 😎

fernandoalo_oficial lance you are like the children in school teasing the girl because you like her!

ynalonso papa please😭😭😭

user27 SCREAM

user28 read him for filth oh my god

user29 GET HIM AGAIN FOR MEEE NANDO

user30 no one talking about how the third pic is so bf vibes?

yourbff 📍 barcelona

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yourbff my favourite event of the year; spanish grand prix!! 🇪🇸

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user31 omgg so cute

user32 love their friendship

user33 always love y/bff/n's annual f1 posttt

user34 aww y/bff/n in the aston martin merch

yourbff always supporting my girl

ynalonso 🥹💚

user35 STOPP AWW

carlossainz55 🇪🇸🇪🇸🇪🇸🇪🇸🇪🇸🇪🇸🇪🇸🇪🇸🇪🇸🇪🇸

liked by yourbff, ynalonso

user36 he's so real

lance_stroll stop hogging her

yourbff SAYS YOU??? puta

ynalonso no arguing this weekend!!

yourbff he started it

lance_stroll im not trying to argue

fernandoalo_oficial another one for my theory......

lance_stroll WHAT NOW???

ynalonso make it stop 😭😭

user37 BAHAHAHAHA

user38 nando is killing me

user39 he ships them be fr 👀

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yourbff posted a story

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ynalonso STOPPP IM GONNA CRY AGAIN

yourbff girl i never stopped...

ynalonso 😭 love you soso much

fernandoalo_oficial 💚

liked by yourbff

user41 THIS IS SOOOOO CUTE

user42 omg adorable

user43 girl im gonna cry

user44 i love y/n so much

user45 so deserved 🥹

francisca.cgomes omgg🥹🫶

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instagram ->

lance_stroll posted a story

liked by yourbff, landonorris, and others

pierregasly YOUR p2?

lance_stroll what?

pierregasly what?

lance_stroll what?

pierregasly 💀

fernandoalo_oficial interesting...

yourbff RETURN HER TO ME AT ONCE

lance_stroll no

user46 YOURS?

user47 hello????

user48 AHHHHHHHHHHH

user49 ASK HER OUT ALREADY

landonorris still not dating her mate?

lance_stroll we are friends 😌

landonorris 😂

ynalonso posted stories

liked by pierregasly, lilymhe, and others

fernandoalo_oficial be responsible please

liked by ynalonso

user50 oh to be a fly on the wallll

user51 WISH I WAS IN THEIR FRIEND GROUPPPP

user52 the shots omg so messy

francisca.cgomes miss you

ynalonso okay where are you come to the club right now

francisca.cgomes 😂 im on my way w alex

ynalonso SSVING YOU BOTH A SHOTTT

lance_stroll love you and congrats

ynalonso IM RIGHT HERE????

twitter ->

messages ->

//

instagram ->

ynalonso posted a story

liked by lilymhe, yourbff, and others

user57 hii y/n 👀

user58 we saw the picssssss

user59 SPILL

francisca.cgomes courtesy of lance, i assume? 👀

ynalonso no comment

yourbff spill. the. beans.

ynalonso nothing to spill 😇

yourbff Y/N!!!

fernandoalo_oficial y/n have i seen images of you and lance kissing?

ynalonso nooo hahahh it's not me :)

fernandoalo_oficial are you sure?

lance_stroll 📍 barcelona

liked by ynalonso, fernandoalo_oficial, and others

lance_stroll definitely not one to forget

view all comments

user60 the first pic being srs & everything else cutesie ... y/n's impact!

user61 the last pic AHHHHHHHHHHHH

user62 the way he LOOKS at y/n!!!!!!

user63 he's in love.

user64 i jus know she's cheesing right back at him too 😭

pierregasly love seeing us both in the points 😍

liked by lance_stroll

fernandoalo_oficial have you spoken to my daughter yet??

ynalonso ...about???

fernandoalo_oficial so, no

lance_stroll 😭 let me live

user65 nando is cooking????

user66 oh he's playing puppet master for sure

estebanocon next time we'll be seeing you on the podium?

lance_stroll yes, alongside you

estebanocon oh, i fear we're dreaming too hard

lance_stroll 😂😂😂

landonorris ...still not dating her mate?

lance_stroll lando. please.

user67 noo let him speak

user68 STILL? NOT? DATING?

ynalonso posted a story

liked by francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, and others

yourbff oh, i see you

ynalonso hm? 😇

yourbff dont play dumb

francisca.cgomes so you had the conversation?

ynalonso what? :)

francisca.cgomes C'MON

alexandrasaintmleux posting this before spilling the deets to us? okay!!

ynalonso im just a girl

lilymhe well congrats 😎

ynalonso 🥹

user69 WE SEE YOU.

user70 ynlance nation rise

user71 SO THE PIC WAS REALLY U???

user72 you dont need to hard launch girl we get it

fernandoalo_oficial you thought you could trick me?

ynalonso no papa what are you talking about? 😵‍💫

time skip 💚

twitter ->

instagram ->

lance_stroll posted a story

liked by ynalonso, pierregasly, and others

user74 oh hello?

user75 this is very sus

user76 to me this is a sign

user77 close enough. ynlance confirmed

user78 THIS IS SO CUTE

user79 i love aston martin 2025

pierregasly just hard launch already what are you waiting for

lance_stroll 😵‍💫

landonorris still not dating her mate?

lance_stroll get a job!!

fernandoalo_oficial your love for her is greater than mine i think everybody should know this by now

liked by lance_stroll

ynalonso

liked by lance_stroll, yourbff, and others

ynalonso with the end of my rookie season i want to thank u all the for the immense support 🥹 not only from the fans but from my father, my team, my best friends and my teammate and boyfriend lance! here's to another great season at aston martin.. 😉 see you next year.

view all comments

user80 wait a second

user81 ok there's a lot to unpack here

user82 TEAMMATE AND BOYFRIEND????!?!??!

user83 ANOTHER season!!!! she's renewed her contract w aston??? 🎉🎉🎉

user84 SOOO PROUD

pierregasly you smashed it! honoured to race with you

ynalonso right back at you!

estebanocon a season most rookies could only dream of

ynalonso oh stop!!!!!! 🥹

fernandoalo_oficial beyond proud of you, te amo 💚

ynalonso !!!!! te amo papa

user85 oh how i love them.

yourbff oh thank god

ynalonso aww thanks love you too xx

yourbff be fr. im so proud of you when i think about it too much i start crying

ynalonso STOPPP🥹🥹🥹🥹

francisca.cgomes FINALLY

liked by ynalonso

lilymhe love you

ynalonso love you sm

alexandrasaintmleux we are all cheering (im so proud of you)

ynalonso love u love u love u

user87 LOVE THE WAGSSS

lance_stroll that's my girl 💚 amazing season, here's to many many more. i love you

ynalonso 🥹🥹 love you so so much thank you for being so amazing!!!

lance_stroll that's all you

user88 "THAT'S MY GIRL"??? IM MELTING

landonorris ohh so he was dating you the whole time?

liked by ynalonso, lance_stroll

THE END 💚

[disneyprincemuke]

fly on the wall * fem!driver

she crashes in her third race of her f1 career, but she's more concerned about its repercussions than the concussion

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, lewis hamilton x fem!reader

warnings: crashing the car

notes: ooooh my god i had to rewrite this 5 times because it wasn't up to my liking initially, and then tumblr was having some issues saving my shit so i lost it?? it's very sad fr

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

"are you alright?" sebastian's voice comes onto the radio.

his eyes are trained on the big screen, cameras focused on the car parked into the wall out of a turn. he couldn't get an answer out of his driver so he had to resort to the third party.

if his assumptions are correct, she would have hit her head on her seat hard at impact. but things like that can lead to so many bigger things that he might not even be prepared for. 

her vision slowly returns, blacking out for a mere second as the car went into the barriers of the baku track.

she had issues with her brakes for a few laps. sebastian had suggested retiring the car if she didn't feel safe, but she pressed on. the issue didn't seem so serious and it seemed manageable.

at first. 

it's a driver error - missing the early braking point to accommodate her already tweaking brakes. she missed it by a millisecond, clipped the wall and got sent straight into the wall.

she sighs, pressing the button on her steering wheel. "i'm okay," she answers shakily, tears now filling her eyes.

"okay, that's the important part. don't think about anything else. i'll see you in the medical centre." sebastian is quick to shut her thoughts down, clearly prioritising her wellbeing and not the car.

"i'm sorry," she sighs, voice shaking and lips quivering. “i’m so sorry, seb.”

this is only her third race in f1, how could she have already crashed out? on a race where she was so close to that podium. it would have been such a monumental moment — a woman on the podium. 

with 20 laps left in the race and her in 5th place, it wasn’t all that far out of reach at the time. yet, here she is causing a yellow flag as she starts to notice the smoke surrounding her. 

"like i said. don't think about anything else."

she sighs to herself as a marshal appears above her halo, greeting her with a soft smile. she nods, letting herself get helped out of her car.

but only one thought eats away at her: she crashed on her third race. what's everyone going to say about her now?

“let me talk,” sebastian sighs, hands up in the air as he tries to calm the girl sitting on the examination bed. he’s barely able to get a word in.

she’s slouched against the wall, purple balaclava in her hands as she traces the thread that holds it together at the hem. the minute he walked in, she looked up immediately with tears in her eyes and a string of apologies.

it hasn’t stopped since he poked his head through the door, cutting him off before he could even ask if she’s okay. 

“do you not see the problem?” she shrieks, eyebrows furrowing at sebastian. “i just crashed out! imagine what the media has to say about my performance today? they’re just going to use this as a reason to justify that i shouldn’t be on the track!”

sebastian drops his hands to his side, deciding that he’d just let her get it all off her chest. it might make her feel better. 

though, it doesn’t make him feel good that she’s continually talking down on herself. he vouched for her for weeks for a reason, and it’s because he believes in her. more than she does in herself, it seems. 

“i didn’t work my ass off my whole life just to be undermined because i’m a woman!” she tosses the balaclava aside, now picking at the loose skin by her fingernails. “i didn’t get this far for everyone to count me out because of one crash! can you fucking believe that shit? it’s a fucking rookie mistake, seb! i’ve been racing for years!”

she drops her hands by her side and groans again, rolling her eyes. “i’ve earned my rightful spot to be where i am! they are not going to care about that!”

sebastian shrugs slightly, overlooked by the infuriated woman across him. he can barely get a breath in before she continues, shutting his mouth immediately as she continues her rampage. 

“imagine the headlines tomorrow! a driver is as good as their last race — i know that! don’t try to sugarcoat it. you know i’m right!” she rambles on, eyes darting all over the room. she’s pushed herself off the wall slightly, clearly flustered over the course of events. 

she avoids sebastian’s eyes, the fear of fully breaking down in front of him prominent. crying over a crash seemed like such a silly thing to do, but there’s no denying how demanding the sport truly is. 

in her short three races in the season and people’s neverending criticism of her abilities, it makes her lie awake at night rethinking her position on the grid. 

following her crash, sebastian hadn’t expected for her to ramble on for this long. he initially thought that the crash would have sent her into a shocking silence, so while her anger is warranted, it was definitely not on his list of things to be ready for. 

“imagine what they have to say about me!” she throws her hands in the air, scratching her head gently. “imagine what they’ll say about you! it’s not going to be good, trust me! i’m a woman in a fucking racing car in a male-dominated sport!”

“hey!” sebastian’s voice bounces in the room, making her lift her head with her eyes narrowed into a glare. 

the sudden movement reminds her of her restrictions, hands coming up to nurse the back of her neck. she feels a sharp pain shoot through her head all the way down to her shoulders. “what?” she hisses, quickly looking down to hide the pain. 

“you literally just crashed head-first into a wall at 250 kilometres per hour! you’re lucky all you got was a concussion and whiplash! it could’ve been worse!”

“if i was lucky, i’d have been able to recover and get on the podium as we discussed! i was already 5th!”

“and you didn’t! that’s okay! you learn from things like these!”

“no, it’s not! i’m already hated as it is!”

“it’s part of the sport! fernando alonso has crashed, lewis has, and so have max and charles! every other big name in formula 1 has had their fair share! you’ll be okay!”

she finally meets sebastian’s eyes, slouching even more as she audibly sighs. he watches her body deflate, leaning back dejectedly. “it’s still different.”

she’s still in her fireproofs. her race suit had to be taken off during her short time with the doctor, hanging on the back of the plastic chair in the small medical room. her helmet sits next to her, underneath the balaclava she’d thrown on top of it. 

her hair is in a loose ponytail with stray hairs poking out and resting on her face. the adrenaline has yet to leave her body, chest heaving as if it’d just been over and beads of sweat still scattered all over her.

“i know it’s different. but everyone else who says whatever isn’t the person behind the wheel, you have to remember that,” he says in a soothing tone, finally coming up to stand next to her. he sighs, putting a hand on top of her head. “and i know it sucks.”

she shakes her head. “no, you don’t. we’re different; our problems are different.”

“the way they used to hate me, and things they say about you are different, yes,” sebastian nods in a low voice, his thumb now tracing circles on her head. “but you still can prove them wrong. you just started driving in formula 1 — you’ll have way more chances to shut them all up.”

“i could’ve already. if i just controlled the car a little better.”

“it’s okay.” he slides himself onto the examination bed, sitting next to her. he intertwines his fingers and rests his hands on his thigh. “everybody crashes at one point in their career.

“let the media say what they want, but not all that criticise you have been in a race before. nobody on that grid thinks you’re lesser than you are just because of what happened today.”

“you don’t know that.”

sebastian just shakes his head, refusing to elaborate any further. he leans back into the wall as well. “oscar is on the way with some snacks for you.”

crashing out during a race is never easy. years before he decided to retire, tapping and crashing out of a race has always been demoralising. it always feels like the first time when he does.

“i don’t need snacks. i need to go back to 4 hours ago when i was still on track for a podium finish in the first half of my rookie season.”

“with your talent, i can assure you that this will not be your only opportunity in formula 1. i will make sure of it, of course. wherever i go, you go.”

the door creaks open, cutting her off before she can throw an answer back as sebastian. “i’ve got your favourite snacks. i also stole a couple of twix bars from your backpack, i hope you don’t mind.”

“well, why’d you take them and still tell me about it knowing i wouldn’t even have given it to you in the first place?” she reaches for the nearest object next to her, yanking it towards oscar by the door. 

“because it was calling my name,” he shrugs, pushing the door fully open to reveal who he’s strung along to the medical centre. 

“i took a packet of haribo,” logan shrugs as he steps in. he flinches when she clenches her fist, scrambling to pull something out of his paper bag. “but i got you a can of sprite to make up for it! don’t be mad!”

her gaze softens when she notices lewis hamilton standing behind her friends, a paper bag hanging on his fingers as he grins at her. 

“how are you, sweetie?” his voice is empathetic and low, giving her a look that she’d seen from everyone she’s passed on her way here. 

she sees lewis and sebastian exchange glances, almost making her roll her eyes again. 

she doesn’t talk to lewis that often, but he has addressed her before when she would trail behind sebastian on the track. she would often greet him softly as she hid behind her mentor, or simply excuse herself when she sees either oscar or logan passing by. 

he’s a role model and the last thing she ever wanted to do was be too overbearing. to see him come to her aid is only a dream come true. 

“i hope you don’t beat yourself up because of that. you drove a brilliant race today,” he smiles. “everybody crashes out. don’t even care what others have to say about you. you did well.”

lewis understands being cast out as a minority. he will never understand the struggles and pressure put on her, but he can at least relate to a certain extent. “don’t even sweat it. you’re now one of the world’s greatest in a fast race car. you’d smoke anybody who would dare challenge you.”

oscar tilts his head. “why would someone random just challenge her out on the street?”

“oscar, shut up,” logan shoves the australian slightly, landing a warning smack on his shoulder after. “let her have her moment.”

lewis laughs but does wave oscar off as he returns his attention to her. “what they say will string, but trust me, this is not the end of the world. i know it feels like it.”

she nods to herself. “okay, hand me the snacks so i can eat away all my pain. i deserve it.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock

[gasstationlady]

right person, right timing, right? | a charles leclerc social media au | pt. 1

pairing: charles leclerc x figureskater!reader (fc: jennie kim and some yuna kim)

after almost a decade, monaco's two-time olympic women's figure skating champion, y/n l/n, moves back home for her retirement.

notes: y/n's career is inspired by kim yuna's career! hopefully it’s not too confusing to read and follow 😭

disclaimer: typos. swearing. chatgpt french. i'm not the most educated in figure skating, so pls excuse any mistakes! photos aren't mine, nothing here is factual.

masterlist ⋆ next

nbcsports

92,932 likes

nbcsports Y/N L/N announces retirement after 2024 World Championships

The Queen of Figure Skating has taken her last bow.

NBCSports writer Kyle Smith tweets word that Y/N L/N, whose bid to become a fourth-consecutive World champion was narrowly denied today by the United States's Carolyn Rivers, has confirmed that she will retire at the age of 25.

The Monegasque superstar will end her stellar career with the 2018 and 2022 Olympic gold, three world championships, and the distinction of never finishing off the podium in her senior-level international career.

Read the rest of the article now on our website.

View all 508 comments

user no. fucking. way. please say sike rn

user God I don't blame her, figure skating is turning into math these days. She deserved that gold.

user ik monaco is depressed as hell rn LOL bc same

↳ user The way that's so accurate because imagine the #1 athlete representing your country is all of a sudden retiring. 😭😭 Monaco literally only has 2 Olympic medals EVER and they were both won by Y/N, if that doesn't say how significant she is to the country then idk.

↳ user i heard they even nicknamed her "Ice Queen Y/N" 😭😭

↳ user Yes, she is called "La Reine des Glaces" in Monaco!

user no hate to carolyn at all but she isn't rlly a complete skater. i'm extremely disappointed with the judging today

user wow i suddenly can't read

user Nooooo not my favorite skater ☹️

user i can't imagine watching a competition without y/n present :( such a major loss for the fs community, but i wish her the best in her retirement! 🥺🥺

user she just did one of the best performances i've ever seen, just to end up winning silver?? make it make sense fr

yourusername

liked by _kagavovskay_14, mlnmarta and 140,861 others

yourusername chez moi est là où est mon cœur, je t'aime monaco 🇲🇨 SEE TRANSLATION home is where my heart is, i love you monaco 🇲🇨

View all 1,816 comments

graciegold95 Beautiful 💞

↳ yourusername 💞💞

user are you quiting skating forever? :(

↳ yourusername i’ll be taking a break for a while but i will always skate, just not competitively! ❤️

user Nous regretterons de vous voir compétitionner, mais nous espérons que vous passerez une retraite incroyable, notre reine des glaces. SEE TRANSLATION We will miss watching you compete, but we hope you have an amazing retirement, our ice queen.

↳ yourusername Merci beaucoup ❤️ SEE TRANSLATION Thank you so much ❤️

isabeau.levito 🥹❤️❤️

mae_meite Je te souhaite tout le meilleur, jolie 💞 SEE TRANSLATION Wishing the best for you, pretty 💞

user so beautiful

user Bienvenue chez toi ! SEE TRANSLATION Welcome back home !

user i can’t be the only one wishing for charles and y/n to reunite (and get back together) now that she moved back to Monaco 😅

↳ user STOP BC LITERALLY ME TOOO 😭😭😭

↳ user omg i thought i was the only one who remembered they dated

y/nupdates

5,211 likes

y/nupdates Y/N attending a fundraising event in Paris! This is her first appearance since announcing her retirement three weeks ago 🥹

View all 55 comments

user I already miss seeing her on the ice 🥲

user omgg her wearing chanel is everything

user aww she looks so happy!!

user How did charles fumble her

↳ user i'm pretty sure that it was just the wrong time for them :(

↳ user Ik that they broke up bc she moved to Canada for skating but why couldn't they just do long distance 😩😩

user y/n will forever be my celebrity crush 😍😍

leclerc16

2,332 likes

leclerc16 Charles in Paris with fans today!

View all 30 comments

user seeing everyone surrounding him overwhelms me and i’m not even there 😩

user am i delusional for thinking he’ll somehow see y/n in Paris 😭😭

↳ user I mean they also both have been in Monaco the past two months and so far no interactions between them 😐

↳ user well no interactions that we know of 😁🤔

user charles looks so bf here

yourusername

liked by chanelofficial, lorenzotl, arthur_leclerc and 160,323 others

yourusername merci @/chanelofficial de m'avoir invitée 💞 SEE TRANSLATION thank you for inviting me 💞

View all 433 comments

chanelofficial 💞💞

user face card never declines

user so pretty 😍😍

user omg not arthur AND lorenzo liking this pic?? 👀

↳ user the logical side of me thinks it’s normal bc they all grew up together but at the same time it’s kind of sus since it’s usually just Arthur liking and not both🤔

↳ user 😭😭😭

user wait i’m confused why did she retire at such a young age?

↳ user It’s actually quite common for competitive figure skaters to retire “early.” Y/N hasn’t stated an official reason but I’m assuming the physical and mental exhaustion just got to her, especially because the sport has been favoring difficulty over artistry lately 🤷‍♀️

mlnmarta

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 33,522 others

mlnmarta Les aventures avec sa tante Y/N sont ses préférées ❤️ SEE TRANSLATION Adventures with her Aunt Y/N are her favorite ❤️

View all 193 comments

yourusername le temps avec Chiara est mon préféré 🥰 SEE TRANSLATION Time with Chiara is my favorite 🥰

user the cutest duo 🥹

user Why is this y/n girl suddenly everywhere

↳ user umm y/n and marta are childhood friends lmao they’ve always posted each other! i think the internet has just amplified everything recently

user so does y/n have no job now lmfao

↳ user I'm like 98% sure she's gonna end up being a figure skating coach or an influencer or both

↳ user guys she's literally still working with her sponsors and i don't think they're dropping her any time soon

↳ user Chilllll she deadass just retired

user NO WAY CHARLES LIKED

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, lorenzotl and 597,390 others

yourusername Je voulais juste remercier tous ceux qui sont venus me soutenir lors de ma dernière présentation à Monaco. Je suis infiniment reconnaissante. Ce n'est pas la fin, mais plutôt le début d'un nouveau chapitre. ❤️

I just wanted to thank everyone who came to support me at my final showcase in Monaco. I’m endlessly grateful. This is not the end, instead it’s the start of a new chapter. ❤️

View all 2,104 comments

yourbestie À couper le souffle. Je t'aime ❤️ SEE TRANSLATION Breathtaking. I love you ❤️

user je n'ai pas pu m'empêcher de pleurer en regardant 😭😭 SEE TRANSLATION i couldn’t help the tears from falling while watching 😭😭

user you’re amazing 🫶🏼

chanelofficial 💞💞

adidas A true queen 👑

user WAITTTTT CHARLES LIKED

↳ user It’s aggravating to see Charles constantly being mentioned in Y/N’s comments. Other than that, this is a reach. I think everyone is forgetting that Y/N is highly respected in Monaco so it’s not unusual for Charles to like her photos. You can even check; all of Charles friends and other well known individuals from Monaco are also in her likes.

↳ user lmfaoooo it’s truly not that deep girl, it’s okay to smile

user her adding in her own translation is so real of her 😭

user There will never be another skater as graceful and talented as you 🥺🥺

f1gossip

12,388 likes

f1gossip Charles Leclerc seen with ex-girlfriend Camille Dubois driving around Monaco. Many fans were convinced he was back with a different ex, Y/N L/N, after Charles and his family were spotted at Y/N’s retirement showcase last week. Always Mr. Indecisive 👀👀

View all 116 comments

user bruh 😐

user This is crazy wtf i’d be pissed if i were y/n

user CAMILLE AND NOT Y/N BYEE i’m sliding down the wall punching the air sobbing bc what the hell

user i’m going insane contemplating the possibility that y/n and charles were always just friends and never had any intentions to get back together

user not what i wanted to see first thing in the morning 👎

user guys was it all in our heads

[wrestlingwithlife]

Task Force 141 Boys with Cowboy (Head canons)

Decided I’d write some head cannons for Cowboy!Reader with our main boys either that haven’t written about yet or have but are so cute I wanted to reiterate <3

Task Force 141 x Cowboy!Reader

—————————————————————————————————————

Soap :

#1 hype man fr 🗣️🗣️

Absolutely obsessed 😍

Will literally find any excuse to get Y/n to talk just to hear his accent

After watching Ghost get man handled by him he actually begged Y/n to spar with him

Looks up southern stuff to say to Y/n

“Y/n, will you take me to a Honkytonk? 🥺”

He tries his best but at this point he’s just doing it to get a reaction

Stumbled across the song “F***** by a Country Boy” and thought all country music was like that

Couldn’t look Y/n in the eye with hearing it in his head for a solid week

Never sleeps better then when his head is in Y/n’s lap

Literally will sleep like a rock

Soap is usually the one who falls asleep on Y/n

He didn’t realize how cuddly Y/n actually was until after one fateful night

Soap had came to watch old murder files with the southern male one night

Y/n fell asleep on Soap’s shoulder, slumbering silently

When Soap went to lean forward to grab his water he was yanked back into Y/n

Y/n bear hugged him to his chest and refused to let him go

Soap cherished that moment for the rest of forever

Added ‘Save a horse ride a cowboy’ to his Instagram bio

Has def stolen Y/n hat and tried it on

Y/n didn’t have the heart to tell him about the hat rule

But he’ll handle it eventually~

Absolute thigh guy

Has been caught staring so many times

Does not care

Continues to stare 👀

Has asked Y/n to crush him between his thighs

Y/n thought he was joking

He was not

#relatable

Ghost :

Absolutely whipped

Won’t even deny it if someone calls him out

He’s all about that Honkytonk Badonkadonk🤠

When Y/n says a word or phrase he doesn’t understand he just nods along until the male walks away, in which he will whip out his phone and immediately search it up

When Y/n mentioned there were times he missed his horses he made it his personal mission to find horses for him to pet

Ended up finding a place nearby that did horse therapy

He and Y/n both went and they absolutely loved it

The horses absolutely adored Y/n and smothered him with love

The southern male was happy to reciprocate

Ghost took a picture of it and now it’s his Lock Screen

Ghost was nervous the horses weren’t going to like him

Most animals don’t like his mask

Was elated when he realized the horses didn’t care about it

They really started to love him when Y/n showed Ghost how to feed them

Ghost was in heaven

He grew particularly fond of an old shire mare

She was all white and covered in scars but she was so impossibly gentle for her massive size

The worker said they called her Big Mama and she’d was a retired logging horse that had been rescued from going to slaughter

She adored Ghost and followed him everywhere

The workers explained she had a knack for taking the more nervous horses and animals on the ranch under her wing and making them feel a safe

Ghost almost cried when he hugged her 🥺

Now where Soap liked to sleep on Y/n, Ghost prefers to have Y/n sleep on him

Was laying in bed with Y/n one night while scrolling through his phone

Y/n was already snoozing 😴

Ghost went to put his phone on the nightstand only to get yanked back

Bro was shocked

Y/n snatched him back, burrowing under his arm

Almost cried again 🥹

Price :

Absolutely adores Y/n southern culture

Has a little notebook where he keeps stuff he learned from Y/n written down 🖊️

Occasionally uses southern slang around Y/n but unlike Soap he’s completely serious

Except the word Ain’t

He refuses to say that

When he finds out Y/n feels homesick he does everything he can to help

Gets Y/n all his favorite things

Favorite candies, books, flowers, even got Y/n a cow stuffie when he talked about missing his animals

Y/n put it next to his horse stuffie he got him last week

Price is a good cook but he doesn’t usually have the urge to do it that often

But when Y/n talked about a dish from his home town he missed??

Price spent two day’s learning how to make it and getting the stuff

Whipped that shit up like freaking master chef

The cowboy was elated and gave Price the most bone crushing hug

Snuck a little cheek kiss in there too 💋

Price’s cheeks turned pink so fast

I’m just going to say it…

Has drunk made out with Y/n before 🤯

The two got absolutely turnt on whiskey and just went for it

They never spoke about it after that but when they get close they still think about it

Price misses how the American male tastes

Something definitely awoke in him the day that he watched Y/n ride that mechanical bull

In a game of ‘Fuck, Marry, Kill’ Y/n would Marry Price a hundred times over

I mean, me too 😍

Tried southern Cajun food that Y/n made once and his heart almost stopped

It tasted good and then all of a sudden everything was on fire

Did better at holding his spice then Soap tho so 10/10

Y/n’s go to after solo missions

Y/n will stumble into his office all tired and instead of pulling up a chair just plops on the floor and leans his head on Price’s leg

Price just plays with his hair while he finishes paper work

He’d be lying if he said his mind didn’t occasionally wander with how close Y/n was to his nether regions 😜

Gaz :

Trails Y/n like a puppy 🐶

I mean this boy hangs off his every word

If Y/n ever has to run an errand off the base you best believe Gaz will be going with him

Also looks up southern slang to understand Y/n better

Also listened to “F***** by a Country Boy” and couldn’t look Y/n in the eyes for a solid week

Always offers to help Y/n when he works out

Sometimes gets distracted when he’s spotting but no one can blame the poor boy

Acts of service is def his love language ❤️

Demands to know the names of every animal Y/n owns

Made a playlist of songs that Y/n mentioned he liked

Listens to it constantly

Likes to ‘help’ Y/n cook

Really just hands him stuff that Y/n asks for

Handles the spices the best out of any of them

When it’s just the two of them going out for whatever reason he’ll just grab onto Y/n somehow

Holding a hand, the hem of a jacket or shirt, or intertwining their arms

Y/n is happy to reciprocate

People will come up to Gaz while Y/n is distracted and compliment how cute of a couple they are

Just thanks them and doesn’t deny it ever

Sleeps in Y/n’s bed more then his own

Y/n will be working at his desk and Gaz will just wander in in and plop onto his bed to sleep

If Y/n takes to long Gaz will sigh loudly till he gets the hint

Always fights Soap for Y/n’s lap on movie nights

Besides Price he’s probably got the best sense of self control

He ain’t perfect though

Is Y/n isn’t watching him he is LOCKED ON

Always locked onto those cheeks 🥵

His mind does tend to wander

Y/n could ask Gaz to fake his death and run away with him and Gaz would do it in a heartbeat

[kitten4sannie]

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴᴇᴛ

ᴛᴇɴᴛᴀᴄʟᴇꜱ/ᴛɪᴛꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ➠ ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ

pairing: intergalactic alien idol! wooyoung x cyborg call girl! reader (fem) feat. ai! san

genre: futuristic au, idol au, smut

summary: your company pleasureplanet™ gets a call from the most sought after idol in your galaxy, requesting you for an evening. he shows you a side his fans have never seen before.

w.c: 2.5k

warnings: switch! wooyoung, reader adapts to whatever woo wants for her own pleasure ^^, alien heat cycles, woo’s got an big alien cock, implied voyeurism, praise, begging, tentacle sucking + fucking, deep-throating, titfucking, choking kink but not in the way you think, unprotected sex, just…so much cum and alien goo lol, breeding/impreg kink, actual impregnation (in this economic climate??), oviposition, creampie, cum inflation

a/n: i’m giving my lord and savior cthulhu all the credit for bestowing this idea upon me,, it’s not like i’ve been wanting to write something this heinous for months and months… where’d you even get that idea from?? haha…ha. but fr im so happy i finally got to write out something that’s akin to a hentai lol i’m living my best smut writer life rn. please heed the warnings and if you did so i hope you enjoy :3

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ᴘʟ4ʏɢ1ʀʟ ʙʏ ʟᴏʟᴏ ᴢᴏᴜᴀÏ

0:01 ❍─────── 4:28

Volume: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

Wooyoung woke up from his sleep in a cold sweat, the flashing lights projecting from the room’s flatscreen making patterns on his glistening skin as he sat up, his body filled with an odd, though familiar heaviness that he knew he would have to take care of sooner than later. 

“Shit, is it happening already?” he whispered to himself, groaning as pulled himself to the edge of the king-sized bed to sit comfortably. “San, do a body scan.” Wooyoung rubbed his tired eyes, waiting for his in-house AI system to kick in, a familiar ding suddenly ringing out inside the empty room.

A projection of a youthful man with sharp, feline-like features appeared on the wall closest to Wooyoung’s bed. He looked in Wooyoung’s general direction, giving him a cordial smile and a bow. “Good evening, Wooyoung.” Blue rings of light formed along the edges of San’s brown eyes, studying Wooyoung’s form. “It appears that your BPM is above normal range. Abnormal body temperature and cortisol production have been detected. Unusually high levels of arousal and semen production are recognized as well,” the AI stated matter-of-factly, blinking. “You seem to be exhibiting symptoms of an illness that members of your sector are susceptible to contracting during this time of year. Would you like to see an in-depth analysis?” 

“Yes, San.” Wooyoung waited for a moment until a prompt appeared on the small computer built into his wrist, tapping a few options, until it projected various images to him. The application showed him what he was in denial about discovering, the bright red letters indicating that he was indeed smack dab in the middle of an intense heat, and to make things worse, he was carrying. To make matters even worse, he knew his kind was required to transfer his offspring to a willing partner, or else his own body would become a birthing ground.

Knowing that he had too many fans relying on him in the intergalactic entertainment world, it simply wasn’t an option for him to retire. He would have to find someone that could host them for him, but where? And so late in the night? Who could possibly–

“Hey, sexy, are you looking for a late-night lover?” an ample-chested member of the spider dimension with eight hooded eyes and fearsome mandibles questioned Wooyoung from the bright TV screen, bringing a bit of their web together into a pattern that formed a heart.  

“Oh?” Wooyoung murmured, realizing that just perhaps his reluctant, desperate prayers to his galaxy’s god were in the process of being answered.

A curvy gray alien leaning seductively against a bar table continued the spiel, “Someone you can unload your deepest desires onto? Someone that can make your wildest dreams come true?” 

“Well, look no further.” An enthusiastic, though automated voice took over this time, as the screen showcased the company’s shiny logo, while it flipped through a slew of optional playmates across the screen like pages of an open book, showcasing the wide range of choices Wooyoung had. “Our playmates at Pleasure Planet will take good care of you. For price options, call (XXX)-XXX.” 

Wooyoung bit his lip, about to look away from the TV when you popped up on the screen, drawing his attention to you, your human-like beauty mixed with the metal intricacies of a robot standing out to him. 

“Well, what are you waiting for, baby?” you asked Wooyoung through the screen, laying across a plush velvet couch in only a small black slip, your back arched, running your fingers up along your sleek body, until you brought them into your hair to push it behind your ears, your fingers brushing against the small lit-up chrome circle near your temple. “Give me a call~” 

Wooyoung gulped so hard, he almost swallowed his Adam’s apple, knowing what he had to do. He rubbed at his sweaty neck, feeling more beads of sweat trickle down his neck to his chest, the loose sleep t-shirt that was hanging off his shoulders now tinted a darker color. “San, call Pleasure Planet and book me an appointment with the cyborg girl.” 

“Right away, Wooyoung,” San obeyed, bowing at the waist, before his image dissipated, the wall returning to a blank state. 

࿏࿏࿏

A soft ding sound filled the empty space of Wooyoung’s expansive cyber chamber after some time went by, finally distracting the overheated alien from his current predicament. He continued to lay in a fetal position on the side of his bed, too overwhelmed by the dizzying amount of arousal that was swirling around his insides like a shoal of fish. “Is…nnngh…she here, San?” 

San’s form materialized onto the wall once more, scanning his Master’s crumpled up body, running a number of tests, finding that the situation was beginning to grow imminent. “Yes, she is, Wooyoung. Please begin the mating ritual as soon as possible, to prevent less favorable outcomes. I’m sure your company wouldn’t want you–”

“You think I don’t know that, San?” he snapped back, holding a hand to his disruptive abdomen, groaning in both pain and unexplainable pleasure, as what Wooyoung could only describe as molten-hot lava churning around inside his core, just aching to spill out of him. “Where the fuck is she? I need to–”

“I’m here for you, Wooyoung. Please, put your worries to rest,” you replied as you entered his room, Wooyoung’s eyes following your movements like a moth to a flame, taking slow steps up to his bed, shedding various articles of your clothing until you were bare for him. 

“O-oh, hi,” Wooyoung croaked, doing his best to sit up in his bed with his head against his pillow, beads of sweat already soaking into it, strands of black hair sticking to his forehead. He watched you climb onto his bed and crawl towards him, his eyes shifting from your face to your body, trying to get his spinning mind to stop for a moment. “Wh-what’s your name?” 

“Y/N, but you can call me whatever you want. I’m yours for tonight~” You mounted him, lowering yourself down to feel his aching length pressing into your heat through his boxers. 

“Y/N…” he repeated softly, entranced by you. 

Smiling down at him, you gently ran your hands up his rapidly rising abdomen, feeling up his soft body along the way, eventually slipping him out of the sweater he was in, eliciting a whine from the alien below you. You brought your lips near Wooyoung’s parted ones, whispering against them, “Oh, baby, you’re in bad shape, huh? Need me to take care of you?” 

Wooyoung nodded weakly, his hands on your thighs, feeling your soft skin underneath his heated grasp. He squeezed into it, swallowing harshly, his Adam’s apple visibly bobbing inside his throat. “Y-yes, please, it hurts so bad…” 

San, who was still watching from the wall, cleared his throat, doing his duty and informing his Master of important information. “Master, please return to your body’s natural state soon. Your vitals are starting to worry me.” 

“I got it, San,” Wooyoung grunted, glaring at the AI, before returning his attention to you. “Oh my god…” He groaned at the sight of you running your hands up and down your perfectly created body, your fingers slipping past the metal, glowing seams that sealed you together, until you got down to your glistening cunt, your fingers spreading yourself open for his viewing pleasure, all while grinding back and forth against his slippery, clothed length. “Y/N…fuck…I just…don’t want to scare you…” 

“You won’t, trust me. Please, let yourself go, Wooyoung, it’s okay,” you reassured him softly, licking at your fingers before they returned to your perfect pussy, rubbing at your clit, feeling zaps of electricity course through your body, your artificial synapses firing off inside your brain. “I’ll take care of you, I promise.” 

Inhaling sharply, Wooyoung closed his eyes for a moment to ground himself, knowing you wouldn’t judge every inch of him like people on the Universal Net did. Little by little, he let his body return to its natural state, small, ridged scales growing in patches along his skin, which exhibited an electric blue tint wherever his blood settled in the most, long, slick-covered tentacles emerging from his form, some of them idly curling around different parts of your body — the most notable change to his body being his cock, which tore out of his boxers from its size. It was no longer human-like, but instead resembled his wriggling appendages, had prominent ridges, leaked a steady flow of blue, viscous pre-cum, and had an obvious girth to it, thick, heavy-looking, and perhaps capable of stretching you open to your particular model’s max capacity for cock.

“Oh, Wooyoung,” you sighed, small digital hearts forming within your hooded eyes, cupping the alien’s flushed face, bringing your lips to his. “You're beautiful.” 

Wooyoung melted into your kiss and body respectively, bringing his hands up to your own face, holding it, his tentacles exploring the rest of your form for him, a few curling around and in between your tits, others sliding along your thighs and hips, while his slippery cock idly rubbed back and forth along your cunt like it had a mind of its own, sending waves of pleasure into the both of you. “Fuck, I need you so bad, Y/N…” 

A string of saliva broke your kiss as you pulled back, squeezing your tits together around the tentacle that was between them, licking at the wriggling tip. “How bad, baby? How bad do you want to fill me up with your cock?” you asked breathily, feeling the tentacle begin to thrust faster and faster, dripping blue pre-cum onto your slick skin. “You want to fuck your cum into me, Wooyoung? Fuck me so deep, it reaches my womb?” 

“Y-esss, please, oh my god, please,” Wooyoung moaned out, grabbing at your hips, continuing to grind his large, ridged cock against your cunt, unable to stop gasping for air from how hard he was breathing. 

“Then, come here,” you purred, reaching down to grab Wooyoung’s cock and pushing it inside you, feeling it fill you up inch by inch until your hungry cunt swallowed it in its entirety, your bodies essentially becoming one. 

Any semblance of composure completely left Wooyoung’s burning body in that moment, encouraging him to grab onto your hips like handlebars and drive his cock deep into your cunt over and over, his tentacles still eagerly exploring the expanse of your skin, some rubbing into your clit, others still preoccupied with your now bouncing tits, an additional tentacle loosely wrapping around your neck, the tip of it sliding along your cheek like it was licking you. “Feels so fucking good being inside you, Y/N, I’m gonna melt.” 

“Take me, Wooyoung, do whatever you want to me,” you told the alien in between pants, opening your mouth when Wooyoung’s tentacle rolled down your other cheek and across your lips, eventually slipping inside your mouth when you opened up, the small round disk built into your temple continually flashing blue the longer your body short-circuited with pleasure, your sensitive flesh squelching lewdly each time they joined together in slick, gooey harmony. 

Wooyoung watched you with a fondness that bordered obsession, drooling at the sight of his appendage fucking itself into your bulging throat that it was wrapped tightly around, still bringing you down onto his cock at an unnerving speed, the heaviness swirling around inside his lower abdomen growing more and more prominent. “I’m going to breed you, Y/N, did you know that? I’m going to fill you to the fucking brim with my kids.” 

You gurgled happily around the thrusting tentacle that was currently stretching out your lips and throat, your body shuddering with pleasure once load after load of blue goo spilled into your willing mouth, dripping down the sides of your chin and traveling along the rest of your slicked-up body. The tentacle left your mouth with a lewd pop and slowly wrapped around your waist instead. “Fill me up, Wooyoung, please, fuck it in me, deeper, I need it,” you begged him, desperately driving yourself down on his thick cock, cupping your own overheated cheeks, the hearts inside your eyes growing more and more bright each time the alien’s cock slipped deep inside your sloppy cunt.  

“Gonna fuck you so full, Y/N, gonna plug you up with my cock so you have to be my breeding bitch again and again,” Wooyoung mindlessly moaned out, simply driven by his overwhelming lust and instinctual urge to procreate, the heaviness moving closer and closer to his pulsing cock. 

“Yes, give it to me, please…!”

San, who had been silently observing the entire time, cleared his dry throat up to announce, “Delivery of offspring will be completed in…three…two..one…”

Neither you nor Wooyoung could tell who had came harder between the both of you, your joined moans and pants filling up the heavy air in the room. Wooyoung’s hands were cemented against your lower abdomen, able to feel as each warm, egg-like object had been deposited into your contracting cunt. “Feel them?” he asked under his breath, looking up into your barely open eyes.

“Yeah, I feel them,” you breathed, feeling dizzy just from the sensation of being filled to the absolute brim, Wooyoung’s cock acting as a dam until he knew that nothing except loads of his cum would come out afterwards, a small bulge present inside your stomach being the proof of what had been done to you. 

Wooyoung let out a small whine, slowly pulling out of you, his cock flopping lifelessly onto his pelvis, his eyes focused on the way your used hole fluttered around nothing, dribbles of electric blue cum dripping out, until a flood of it came seeping out in between your sticky bodies. With a blissful smile on his face, Wooyoung rubbed your stomach with gentle circles, humming to himself. “Let me know when you’re ready for another round, okay, baby?” 

You smiled softly down at him, placing your hand over his, ready to ask him for another round as soon as possible when San spoke instead.

“I hate to interrupt, but you have quite the schedule tomorrow, Wooyoung…practice at 9, vocals at 11, a fan meeting in the Twilight Quadrant at 3….” San slowly informed in a disheartened tone, a drop of sweat cascading down the side of his sleek face. 

Wooyoung growled, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at the wall, the image of San blurring temporarily. “Shut off! Shut down, San!” He looked back at you, rubbing your hips gently, unable to stop smiling at your pretty cybernetic face.

San disappeared from the wall, but his voice remained. “Just so you know, I don’t actually have a shut-off button, Wooyoung. I’m sentient…” 

Wooyoung’s fingers clenched into your hips, his eyebrows twitching downwards. “Oh my god, San, just wait till I fucking figure out how to hack your programming…” 

San cleared his throat, shaking his head, though it wasn’t visible to either of you, especially since you were both too busy eye-fucking each other. “Again, I’m sentient. That’s out of the realm of possibility.” 

“San!” 

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[bzurk]

what gets dirtier the more it cleans?

series masterlist: cw: DUBCON, verging on NONCON, oral (m recieving), soliciting, coersion, slapping, bullying (fr it's mean) tuesday, week one:

You were given three rules when you accepted this job.

Don’t make any loud noises. Leave the lights on when you’re in a room. And most importantly, don’t get in their way.

It seemed straightforward enough. You were prepared to be as inconspicuous as a mouse if it meant securing your paycheck.

You could sympathise. A group of retired veterans reacclimating to civilian life. It couldn’t have, can’t be, easy, transitioning from the battlefield to the mundane. The constant vigilance, the hyper-awareness, must be ingrained in them.

The uniform you’re forced to wear by the organisation that found these potential clients is stiff and uncomfortable, but neat and agreeable. You drag your fingers across the embroidered logo adorning the breast pocket of your collared shirt, tucked neatly into tailored black slacks. The household had wanted to meet you before agreeing to let you into their home unsupervised as their maid, and you had to look perfect for it, had to make a good impression. Your rent was relying on it. You tie your hair back tidily, smoothing any flyaways. Your makeup was minimal and clean, professional. You looked put together.

The drive there is nerve-wracking, but you keep it together. You watch as your humble, working-class neighbourhood gives way to a parade of mansions, one after another, the gentrification painfully obvious. You feel out of place immediately in your modest car, almost as if you’re committing an offence by defiling this pristine street with your humble ride. You slide your car into park and stare at the house you’d researched prior, though seeing it in person puts its sheer scale into perspective. It’s enormous, with landscaping meticulously groomed and clearly maintained by professionals. You eye the clock, and the time is right, regretfully. You force courage into your chest and climb out of your car, the slam of the door sounding like funeral bells in your mind.

The sight of the expensive house gives you pause, the amount of square footage suddenly seeming like too much, an impossible task for one person.

The front of the house is a quintessentially British two-story home, exuding both luxury and comfort. The exterior is a blend of red brick and white stucco, with ivy climbing gracefully up one side, giving it a timeless charm. Tall, mullioned windows framed with dark wood sit symmetrically on either side of a grand, arched front door painted a deep, inviting green. The door is flanked by stone planters overflowing with vibrant flowers, a riot of colour against the muted tones of the house.

A cobblestone pathway, meticulously maintained, leads up to the entrance from the driveway, bordered by perfectly trimmed hedges and blooming roses. The front garden is a masterpiece of landscaping, with a lush, manicured lawn and a variety of shrubs and trees artfully arranged to provide both privacy and beauty.

After scanning the exterior of the house for a few minutes and picking your jaw up from the floor, you return to the very polite message from its inhabitants, even though you’ve already scanned it five times, to solidify the expectations that you’ve so readily agreed to.

Toilets, tile scrubbing, vacuuming, kitchen duty, laundry, organisation, dusting, pool cleaning, take out trash…

The list goes on and on. As your eyes scan the neatly arranged list, you begin to wonder why you’d accepted the job in the first place. While some of these tasks are certainly something you’d performed before for yourself, the high expectations make the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Then, you read it.

...A completely satisfactory compensation equal to or surpassing your listed asking price.

Four years of tuition and rising rent loom down at you from your aching savings account, and you’re reinvigorated. These people are obviously well-off and willing to pay you handsomely. You would just have to be careful not to undersell yourself; after all, you can always negotiate.

You have to muster even more strength to ring the doorbell. Your hands shake before you politely clasp them together in front of you, awaiting their arrival. When you hear the mechanisms of the door rattle, you force a smile onto your face that you’d only just then realized was missing.

The first thing to greet you when the door swings open is a blinding smile.

"Hi there! You must be the new maid. I'm Kyle Garrick," he says, extending a hand warmly. His grip is firm but friendly, rough with callouses, and your brain immediately thinks capable, dependable. He is intimidatingly tall and athletic, his posture speaking volumes about his background, shoulders and back straight. His dark hair is neatly trimmed, and there's a spark of genuine interest in his eyes. Worst of all, though, is that he’s gorgeous.

"That’s me!” You chirp out with a wide smile before giving your name. “It's nice to meet you, Mr. Garrick," you reply, trying to steady your nerves as you shake his hand.

"Please, call me Kyle. No need for formalities here," he insists, his smile widening further. "Come on in. I’m sure the place can seem a bit overwhelming at first, but it’s not so bad, promise!"

You step inside, the cool air of the house a sharp contrast to the warmth outside. The interior is just as grand as the exterior, with polished wooden floors, high ceilings, and tasteful decor that speaks of both comfort and sophistication.

"So, tell me a bit about yourself. How long have you been working in housekeeping?" Kyle asks as he leads you through a spacious foyer adorned with a large chandelier and a sweeping staircase.

"Well, I've been doing this for about three years now. Started part-time while I was studying," you explain, trying to keep your voice steady. "I enjoy the work, and it’s always interesting to see different homes and meet new people." Your brain was working overtime to send words to your mouth, and your cheeks hurt from holding the cordial smile. While it’s true you’ve been working at your job for a while, you did not enjoy seeing different homes and meeting people.

But hey, at least it isn’t retail.

Kyle nods thoughtfully. "I can imagine. We’re a bit of a unique household, as you probably know. Your boss told us great things about you, though. We’re happy to have you here."

"Thank you, that means a lot," you mumble, running your clammy palms across your pants. Beautiful, and nice? Your heart may as well give out now.

He gestures towards a doorway leading into a large, open living area. "Here’s the living room. We spend a lot of time here, so it can get a bit messy. Just a heads up," he adds with a chuckle.

You take in the room, noting the plush sofas, a grand fireplace, and a large bay window overlooking the garden. It’s clear that, while the house is grand, it’s also very much lived in and loved. Opposite the fireplace is a giant television flanked by bookshelves, brimming with titles you couldn’t make out. The stand beneath was home to multiple game consoles and controllers and a mess of cables. A plush rug covers the floor beneath the couch and coffee table, and blankets rest haphazardly over the arm of the couch.

"We'll head to the kitchen next," Kyle says, guiding you through the house. Despite the grandeur of the mansion, there’s a warmth to it, largely thanks to Kyle’s easy-going nature.

But you know you are completely out of your element because the kitchen alone is the size of your entire apartment. The idea of scrubbing this place clean fills you with more anxiety with each room that he shows you, but you keep it together enough to maintain a confident facade.

Mostly.

As Kyle led you down yet another dimly lit hallway, a behemoth of a man suddenly stepped out ahead of you.

And oh my God, he's huge. He fills the entire doorway from which he emerges, phone to his ear, glaring down at the source of the apparent bothersome noise that interrupted his call. With a wave, he acknowledges Kyle, hardly sparing you the dignity of a glance. Kyle quiets down immediately. The man's piercing, dark eyes say everything he doesn't need to, shadowed by the jut of his brow. For a moment, you're certain no one else on this Earth could be as intimidating. The sheer breadth of his shoulders and chest strikes a primal fear into you, making you question your faith and leaving your lips pursed shut in complete silence, your body snapping into utter stillness lest you be a bother. Prey frozen in front of a predator, hoping to remain unseen.

Satisfied, he returns to the room from which he emerged, shutting the door behind him as his deep, guttural voice rumbles an apology into the phone’s receiver. It's so deep, so guttural, you swear it reverberates in your chest.

After the pleasantries are over, there are just two rooms left to discover: the one that Dark-and-Scary emerged from and the door opposite.

“Don’t worry about Simon’s office,” Kyle dismisses. “He’d probably rather you not go in there.”

As if the guy couldn't get any scarier. You decide to avoid the room like it's radioactive, an easy decision to make. You eye the closed door as Kyle knocks on the other.

“Come in,” a deep, gruff voice grants permission from within.

Kyle opens the door, revealing a room that exudes authority and wisdom. The space is lined with dark wood panelling, and the air carries the faint scent of tobacco and aged leather. A large oak desk sits near the back, its surface meticulously organized with papers, a laptop, and a small lamp. Behind the desk, an imposing figure stands, looking up from a stack of documents.

"Captain- er, Price, this is the new housekeeper," Kyle introduces, his voice slightly more formal than before, his posture straighter.

Captain Price, a man with a rugged face and a neatly trimmed beard, offers a nod. His eyes, a steely blue, assess you with a mixture of curiosity and scrutiny. "Nice to meet you," he says, his voice gravelly yet warm.

You muster a smile, hoping it doesn’t come across as nervous as you feel. "You too, sir. Your house is lovely."

Price gestures to the chairs in front of his desk. "Have a seat. 'M sure Garrick has given you a lot to think about already."

You nod and sit down, the leather chair creaking slightly under your weight. Kyle takes a seat beside you, his presence reassuring.

"So," Price begins, leaning back in his chair. Seated and relaxed, he still seems to take up the entire room, authority lingering in the air like the scent of cigar smoke. He's intimidating, but not in the same way Simon was - a hulking behemoth. Not that Price isn’t a large man himself; his shirt stretches across a broad chest, pulled tight over sculpted biceps and shoulders. Even slouched in a plush leather desk chair, he towers over you. "What do you think so far?"

Price is intimidating because there is a magnetism about him. His beard is trimmed and neat, speckled with greys, and creases tug at his eyes whenever his expression changes. In his right hand, he spins a pen over his fingers, thick and scarred and rough. He’s a man of experience, of hardship, but it’s concealed by a calm and composed veneer. He demands respect without having to open his mouth.

You pause, carefully considering your response. "I think your house is beautiful," you say, hoping it sounds convincing. You fold your hands over your lap to hide the shaking. "A bit intimidating, but I’m up for the task."

Price nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer. "Fair enough. We value hard work and dedication here. As long as you do your job right, we'll get along just fine." He leans forward, his gaze intensifying. "But understand this: our privacy is paramount. What happens in this house stays in this house. We have our reasons for being particular about who we let in."

The ice from his eyes pierces through your veins, flooding your blood with cold. You nod quickly, "I understand, sir. I’m here to clean, nothing more, nothing less."

Price leans back again, his demeanour softening slightly. "Good. Then I think we’ll get along just fine. I hope you find everything to your liking. When would you be able to start? Our old schedule was Tuesdays and Thursdays,” he smiles again, placating, and you’re grateful that this is almost over.

“Most weekdays we’re on base,” Kyle adds. “But our schedules aren’t consistent.”

“Tuesday and Thursday are fine,” you confirm, knowing full well that today is Sunday. Your mind races with the laundry list of responsibilities that you would need to get together by Tuesday.

“Fantastic. Now about your compensation…” Price continues, drumming his fingers atop the desk.

Your ears perk up.

“How about $200 for the travel and $300 for the work?”

You’re glad that he’s the first to throw out some numbers, considering you didn’t know they’d be covering your travel times as well. Still, even with the bonus, it seems low. “$300 per day?”

Price’s eyes crease as he raises a brow. “Per hour, love.”

You startle at that. You must look like a deer in headlights considering Kyle’s sympathetic pat on your knee.

“Su-sure! Yes, that is um…” you stutter, knowing you look like an idiot but helpless to do anything about it. “Agreeable.”

He nods in affirmation. “Excellent. I look forward to seeing you on Tuesday. Just let yourself in through the garage, the code is 5768. There will be a list on the counter of your duties. I’ll be home around six, but it’s alright if you’re not done by then. Don’t burn yourself out on the first day.”

You memorize that number like your life depends on it. You exchange contact information with Price and Kyle. You want to ask if Simon will be home on Tuesday, but you resist, not wanting to ask too many questions with a promised salary over your head.

Finally, once you’ve exchanged your goodbyes pleasantly, you’re free to go. Outside, you take a deep breath, glad that the meeting went as well as it did. Cleaning this place must take at least a few hours, and at that rate, you’ll be paying off your loans in no time.

You focus on the suddenly attainable dream of financial freedom as you make your way home to prepare. 

—

Tuesday comes far too quickly for your liking.

Getting into the house feels more scandalous than it is. Your heart drops at the sight of a car still in the garage, though you suppose that doesn’t mean anything for certain. Rich people usually have multiple cars, right? You hope that you’re alone, away from the scrutiny of an overbearing homeowner, as nice as they may be.

You remember Simon with a shiver as you make your way inside the house, the memory making you close the door quietly behind you, recalling the home’s layout and making sure to check the kitchen counter for the list. You find it with ease, and the amount of tasks is shorter than you thought it’d be.

You collect the supplies you need and set out, starting with the living room. The TV is so massive that you could mistake it for a wall feature. You blink away the disbelief and start dusting, arranging the decor that adorns the surfaces and arranging throw pillows across the expanse that is the couch that wraps around the room.

You make quicker work of the room than you’d thought. You save the vacuuming for last when you’ll do it for the entire bottom floor as the note specifies. Stepping back, you take in the big picture of the room and you’re quite pleased with yourself. You suppose you weren’t lying when you told Kyle you were detail-oriented. You were good at what you did.

You turn back towards the kitchen to assess the note and hopefully cross off some tasks, and your entire soul leaves your body.

You startle back, a sharp gasp bursting from your chest, terrified. Jesus Christ, where did he come from? Was he always there? He’s just standing there, mug in hand, leaning against the counter, but his sheer presence was enough to spook you to your bones. You clutch your chest and almost laugh nervously, dissuaded by the stern look on his face, somehow making a black henley menacing. Shit, he’s ripped.

“Mr- Mr. Riley,” you regard him, taking a moment to remember his last name. Simply calling him by his first name is too informal, even if that is how Kyle introduced him to you. “My apologies. You scared me.”

“Hmph,” he dismisses, taking a sip of his tea before regarding you again. You take the brief time to force your heart to stop pounding in your chest. “Usually the maid comes around two or three.”

“I’m sorry,” your voice shakes as he regards you. How long was he standing there watching you? “I can come back at another time?”

“’s fine,” he nearly rolls his eyes before laying his sights back onto you. “Jus’ make sure you use the shit that smells like pine.”

“Yes! Yes sir,” you nod hurriedly. “Pine-scented-”

“Are you doin’ the beds today?” he asks before you’re finished speaking.

“Yes,” you blurt before swallowing. “After I wash the sheets.”

Simon swirls the tea around in his mug with a few controlled rolls of his wrist. “Use extra fabric softener, but not with Johnny’s. And make ‘em tightly.”

“Of course. Yes,” you are anxious to get this conversation over with. Simon makes your every muscle taut with anxiety. His stern words are all business, and you’re rather thankful for that in a way. There’s no second-guessing.

He glares at you through the furrow of his brow before turning towards the foyer. He speaks to you again without turning back around to face you, “Did you close the garage door?”

Shit.

“N-no, sir,” you answer honestly. You don’t consider lying to him for a minute.

He doesn’t move. Your heart speeds back up regrettably.

“Always close the garage door,” he insists darkly before approaching the entry door to do so himself.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” you convince, wishing you got a better look at exactly how he did so. He closes the entry door before you have a chance to see, and you definitely don’t have the balls to ask.

“Don’t make too much noise, either,” Simon demands, raising his voice to ensure you’ve heard him despite the increased distance between you. 

“Of course,” you chatter, drilled into place as if he’d filled your shoes with lead.

You hear a door shut, and suddenly you can breathe again. Still, the minuscule noise of the air through your nose is too loud, you decide. You try breathing quieter despite the dizziness plaguing your head, only to give up a few moments later. You wait for him to come back and yell at you again for a few minutes before mustering the bravery to continue to the kitchen to retrieve the list.

Suddenly, it’s a mile long.

Since Simon mentioned the beds, you figure you should start there. You hurry up the stairs, tiptoeing to avoid making them creak, and quickly strip the beds of the surprisingly sparse amount of bedding (like seriously, only one pillow? Psychopaths) before carrying the bundle downstairs and into the laundry room. Getting the cycle started is a bit like rocket science given the high-tech nature of the machine, but you figure it out, extra fabric softener in place as ordered. You allow yourself to take a breath as you recall the master bedroom, as extravagant as you’d expected it to be. Daydreaming about a king-sized bed and a fireplace in the bedroom distracts you from Simon enough to accomplish a few more tasks, crossing them off the list as you go.

The last thing to do as you wait for the bedding to dry is clean the bathrooms. Kyle so kindly writes that you “don’t have to go crazy with it”, but you will anyway. You collect your supplies, rubber gloves donned, and head towards the first bedroom adjacent to the foyer.

“Oi.”

His voice sends needles down your spine. You’d almost forgotten he was there, naught but a peep to be heard from beyond his office door. Now, he stands in the doorway of it with his arms crossed to address you. He’s so tall that he has to bend his neck to look at you, lashes long and dark as they cast shadows across his features. His scarred, mangled features that rocket fear up your spine.

“Yes?” it comes out as a wheeze, your lungs robbed of breath.

“I spilled something in ‘ere, can you get it? Have a call in ten minutes, make it quick,” he explains, the most you’ve heard him speak. Even though he phrases the request as a question, it’s anything but; you are to report to duty immediately. You mentally salute him.

“Of course,” you prattle before shuffling your supplies in your arms. He makes way for you, sticking close by intentionally, his arm raised above your head to hold open the door, a lion’s paw about to come down on a mouse. He’s never been scarier than he is in that moment, brushing past him to get into his office, the difference in size between your bodies starkly and embarrassingly apparent.

You arrive at a sparsely decorated office with a deep mahogany desk at the very centre. Your eyes scan the floor but find nothing out of place, unsure if you should enter the office further to investigate or just wait for Simon to point the mess out to you. 

He steps past you to return to his desk, sitting in a tall chair before swinging his legs up onto his desk. He narrowly avoids the computer there, and you notice that his boots pretty much dwarf it, before a smash.

His thick-heeled boot knocked right into an empty glass perched precariously on the corner of his desk. It comes crashing down onto the expensive carpet beneath, shattering into countless sharp shards in a messy circle. You watch this happen with your own eyes, but you’re not sure it really happened. It’s not until Simon removes his feet from the desk to cross them normally that you understand what’s happening.

“Whoops,” he mutters sarcastically with a dismissive wave of his hand before tucking his arms into a cross. He never once breaks his stare at you while doing this, especially now. He waits for you to make eye contact before blinking. It’s long and slow, like he’s showing it off. Like he’s telling you just how relaxed he is while you’re a complete mess.

“I-” You’re stunned, insulted, and frankly frustrated.

“There’s a mess. So clean it,” he states plainly.

“Of course,” you swallow your pride and every curse word that bubbles up into your throat. You sink onto your knees, and the movement almost sickens you. You remember a time when you wouldn’t give an ounce of your pride to rich assholes like this, back when circumstances were different.

The loans, just think of the loans…

You use a small brush and dustpan to sweep up the glass shards, the sharp fragments catching on the fibres of the carpet like stubborn burrs. Simon's legs stay in your peripheral vision, an unyielding presence that looms over you as you work on your knees. You try to ignore the weight of his gaze, focusing instead on the painstaking task of collecting each sliver.

"I- I think I need the vacuum," you murmur, your voice barely more than a whisper. You pour the shards into a small container, a brittle symphony of tinkling glass, and rise to your feet, clutching the dustpan like a lifeline, as if it could protect you.

“Vacuum is too loud,” Simon scoffs. “Figure it out.”

You hold back a grimace, your eyes lifting to meet his, searching for any sign of leniency. But his expression is carved from stone, cold and unyielding. Defeated, you drop your gaze and return to the task, plucking out the smaller bits of glass with your now bare fingers, each prick a tiny sting of defiance against your skin.

Halfway through your meticulous work, Simon's desk phone rings. The sound slices through the tense silence, and he forgets about your presence, lifting the receiver to his ear.

"Now's fine. The maid's here, but no matter." His voice is stripped of its usual menace, a disconcerting change that sends a shiver down your spine. "No, s’not Faith. New one. Knocked over a glass.”

You scowl, your fingers pausing as his words sink in. The other line responds, and Simon smirks, a cruel twist of his scarred lips.

You clench your jaw, the glass shard embedding itself deeper into your finger. You hiss between your teeth. The words you want to hurl at him burn like antifreeze, bitter and corrosive in your throat. The money on the table feels like a shackle, binding you to this humiliating role. Any protest would likely cost you this job, and you can't afford that.

Simon shifts to business talk, and you tune out, the fumes of your rage and indignation fuelling your efforts. The fear you once felt towards him dissipates, replaced by a simmering resentment. He’s not as terrifying as he first seemed; just another arrogant, condescending douchebag. Still, you don’t dare rise until every speck of glass has been meticulously collected.

You stand, eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere. Gathering your supplies, you head for the door, your steps hurried.

"Hey," Simon's voice halts you, and you turn to find him pointing at the floor by his side. Your heart sinks as you assume you missed some glass, and you crouch at the side of his desk chair. Before you can react, he moves with startling swiftness, swivelling his chair and knocking you off balance with his boot. You wobble, falling forward onto your knees and scraping them against the carpet, your hands landing on his thighs, and your brain short-circuits, hitting factory reset in your fear. You scramble to push off of him, to crawl backwards and create some space, but Simon grips your hair with a vicious tug, forcing you to remain between his legs.

The pressure on your scalp is excruciating, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You can smell the faint scent of his cologne, mingling with the bitterness of your fear and anger. It clogs your throat, shame and embarrassment and disgust all boiling in your gut. The shock feels like the shards of glass you collected pouring over your head, tickling and slicing against skin.

He holds you there for a moment, his grip tightening just enough to make you whimper, cheek pressed against his thigh until you can feel the warmth of his skin through his jeans, abrasive against the sensitive skin of your face. You can feel the way his thigh flexes when he leans back in his chair, all muscle and brute strength. His grip moves from your hair to the nape of your neck to hold you still when you struggle again.

You bite your tongue, literally, to keep yourself from losing the only job that you’ve been able to get.

Loans, loans, loans… Bills, bills, bills…

For a moment, he’s just staring at you, smirking, and you realize he’s finally placed the phone back on his desk, yet his grip remains ironclad around your neck. The rage builds, and your hands ball up into fists, and you take a breath to will yourself into silence.

You’re shaking now, a quick glance towards the door securing your escape plan. Simon notices, but he doesn’t move. Your eyes flick to the dustpan of glass next, too far for you to reach, and you know deep down that you would never be quick enough to slice Simon. He’s ex-military, for fuck’s sake. You know he’s followed your gaze when his thigh flexes again under your cheek, his boot coming to rest between your knees, ready to knock you back down if you so much as flinch.

“Mr Riley…” You cower, your voice muffled against his jeans, weak and snuffy. He merely tilts his head at you. “I need to get back to w-work.”

You flinch away violently, and he forces your head further into his leg as he opens one of the desk’s drawers. He could be reaching for a knife, or a gun, and you’d be completely useless to stop him, scruffed like an unruly cat and sat at his feet like a pet. You choke back a sob, hands gripping around his calves.

He wields a stack of cash, rolled together with a rubber band. You can’t help but stare at it, bright, crisp bills nestled in the palm of his giant paw. He tosses it up and catches it above your head, as if it were merely a baseball, and smirks at your wide-eyed reaction. Your eyes follow it like a baby to a mobile.

“So predictable,” he murmurs, snapping the rubber band off to stack a few of the bills atop his other thigh, right in front of your nose. A puff of breath from you would be enough to scatter it to the floor. 

You force your eyes from it and compose yourself. A few hundred dollars is hardly worth selling your dignity for. You’re not entirely sure what he’s getting at, anyway. 

“What- what are you talking about?” you finally decide to ask, much less confidently than you’d hoped you would.

“You’re pretty useful around here. You should show me just how useful you can be,” he croons, leaning down and curling over your head, your proximity to him keeping his voice perfectly audible despite the quiet, deep nature of it. You meet his shadowed glare with furrowed brows and watery eyes, lips taut, as you finally realize what it is that he’s asking of you when he rubs your face against his jeans again.

With his free hand, he grabs the few bills he placed on his knee and slides them under the waistband of your slacks. You can’t stop the squeak that eeks past your lips.

“What? No!” you resist, trying to throw your head back and out of his grasp when he lets go suddenly, and the back of your skull knocks into the desk painfully, ornaments jostling from the impact. You’re glad nothing falls, not wanting to deal with that at the moment. Not with your dignity apparently for sale. “You’re- No, no- Price would have my head!”

“And he isn’t here, is he?” Simon interrupts before you can make an even bigger fool of yourself. He leans in further, caging you between his knees and the desk until the distance between you is negligible. He grabs your chin this time, his pointer and thumb panning from ear to ear across your jaw, and slips anther bill down the front of your shirt until his abrasive fingers tuck it into your bra, his touch searing against the sensitive skin.

“You can put up with a lot, love,” Simon coos deeply. He slides another bill into your bra, tucked under the strap, as you start to feel dizzy, unsure if this is really happening. There’s at least $500 tucked into your clothing at this point.

You stare into his chest, the calculated rise and fall of it doing little to slow your own. God, he’s just so huge, and you’re cornered, your escape plan evaporating with his presence. You’re not sure you could squeeze past him even if you tried. An immovable object.

When he slides another bill against your skin, you open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. This is so reprehensible that you struggle to find the appropriate words to describe just how disgusting all of it feels. The money burns, sears, branding your shame into your skin permanently. A tattoo in the shape of your weakness, your gullibility. Your gut twists and aches, your hunched shoulders so tense with the pull of your muscles that you might make yourself faint.

Another bill, another moment of terse silence. Tears finally spill over your lashline.

Shit… how much is that, now?

This has to be some sort of test, right? Simon has made it perfectly clear that he enjoys messing with you. This has to be one of his games. One that you so happen to have fallen hook-line-and-sinker into.

Another bill. Your bra struggles to hold them. You’re pretty sure he brushes them over your nipples on purpose.

Well, if he’s going to play a game, maybe going along with it is exactly how you get out of it.

“What are you asking me to do?” you utter, squeezing your arms against your breasts to keep any of the cash from spilling out. You can hear the way it crinkles.

“I’m not asking,” Simon murmurs, his voice a rumbling bass given the closeness to his chest. You can feel the vibrations of it deep in your ribs. “You’ll do it eventually. We all have a price.”

Your eyes flutter closed at that, with his breath ghosting over your face. You feel – you are - completely stuck. You force your eyes open, but still can’t muster the balls to meet his gaze. He taps your nose with another bill, the rhythmic tap-tap-tap driving you crazy until you swipe his hand away. Are you really someone who has a price? 

Yes.

“Suck me off,” he demands plainly, and the words completely steal the breath from your chest. You don’t breathe, you can’t breathe, the absolute ridiculousness of it all weighing heavily on your conscience. He starts the tapping again, though it’s slower, now. You blink away the tears, completely preparing yourself for the verbal onslaught that you want to inflict upon this fucking creep for insisting you do such a thing.

The taps slow into an excruciating rub across your cheeks before Simon simply lets the bill flutter to the floor, discarded like trash before trying again with another one.

Well… It is a lot of money…

You swallow, almost rolling your eyes as you close them again. If this is a game, it’s a really fucking sick one. He tosses that bill to the ground too and repeats the movement, this time sliding the bill across your cheek, over your nose, tracing it down to your lips before letting it flutter to the ground.

“Just- just a blowjob?” you utter, voice as weak as your moral convictions.

That makes him chuckle, the noise of it sinister, more akin to a deep growl than a laugh. He knows he’s won, this little game that he indulged in. He leans back, proud, to assess his work: you, flustered and flushed and way too hot, avoiding eye contact with him at all costs as you crunch the bills in your hand. “Just a blowjob.”

He leans back in his chair smugly, arms resting against the armrests and his fingers drumming against them. You’re not sure if you can get out of this by citing your inexperience, or if that would just intrigue him further, so you keep your mouth shut. No, he had ensnared you long ago, and you were just along for the ride. Simon was taking his position as your superior with delight. Or, well, whatever it is that Simon can experience that might be considered delight by any standards besides sadistic.

You stuff the cash from the floor in your pocket, along with your pride, and finally look him in the eye. He simply waits for you, as if you knew the first thing about these sorts of situations. He must enjoy watching you fumble with yourself internally, piercing brown eyes like daggers into the gears mashing around in your head, jamming them in place.

“Well?” Simon lilts.

You obey his unspoken command, swallowing thick spit and frowning deeply. You crawl closer on your knees, the plush carpet suddenly suffocating. Simon has that stupid expression again, spreading his legs wider to encourage you between them. You’ve seen things like this in bad pornos, but you don’t have the first clue how to handle any of this.

“’m not paying you to stare,” Simon derides. You know that you should be doing something, anything, but with the flood of thoughts and doubts and impulses flying past you, you simply can’t piece together what he wants from you right now. He’s jammed the gears in your head, his derision a knife between cogs.

You watch his hands fumble in the fly of his jeans. Your eyes widen with the sudden spring of flesh that makes itself very apparent, his cock bouncing towards his belly. The idea that he’d gotten hard from messing around with you is repugnant and vile, and you wonder just how depraved he is. You’d seen a few cocks before, mostly in college during some bad decisions, but his is just so foreign. Developed in a way that only age could afford; huge and heavy, hindered by its own weight. He presents it so unceremoniously, so matter-of-factly, that it catches you more off guard than you thought it would.

He pats his knee twice, as if he were summoning a dog. From your place at his feet, you felt like one.

You rise on your knees, placing your hands over his thighs for balance. You can’t help but keep your eyes locked on his cock, towering, framed by a plush covering of dark hair.

He grabs the base of it and jiggles the flesh, inviting you impatiently. “Open up.”

Your jaw trembles as you oblige, just barely parting your lips enough to expose your tongue. Simon waits for you to inch closer on your knees, really nestled between his legs now, and there’s no going back. You don’t like when he tells you what to do, but at the same time, you’re completely lost without his guidance. You give it your best shot, licking a stripe just beneath the head of his cock. You wince, the taste off-putting and the smell of him unusual.

He surprises you, grasping the back of your neck with his free hand. You startle and whimper, reflexively clutching his knees to keep your balance. He isn’t particularly rough, but the sudden nature of it scares you.

You are impossibly in over your head.

He keeps your head in place as he angles the tip of his cock between your lips with his free hand. He sighs when you instinctively close your mouth around it, tongue wiggling beneath the pulsing flesh as you try to swallow. A tear creeps its way from the corner of your eye, sliding down your cheek with shame.

“Suck.”

You close your eyes as you give that your best shot, cheeks hollowing around the intrusion in your mouth. Your tongue is more useful, here, given the increased friction. You lather it around languidly, unsure if that would even feel good, but Simon doesn’t tell you to stop. You just want to get this over with as quickly as possible. You open your jaw ever-so-slowly with each tentative suck to accommodate the girth, spongy veins pressing along the heat of your tongue.

He squeezes the back of your neck again, and you know what you need to do. You start to bob your head to the fullest extent of your limits. Just when you think that Simon is fully hard, he gets even harder, the size of it quickly becoming difficult to handle. You start to choke when the tip prods the back of your throat, but when you try to back off, Simon’s firm hand across the back of your neck keeps you in place. You break the suction to force a breath, gaping your lips to puff out a breath around the intrusion in your mouth. Simon didn’t seem to like that, pushing you farther down towards his groin.

You wince and more tears come, either from the activation of your gag reflex or the sheer mortifying pain of doing something like this with someone like him. You feel like a filthy enabler, giving him what he wanted so easily.

Simon pulls your head back, his cock slipping from between your lips with a wet noise. You cough, though your little pity session is interrupted by him slapping the meat of his cock against your cheek. Now that it’s out of your mouth you can really size it up, brows furrowing at the intimidating bulk of it as he drags it across your face. You’re not ashamed to admit that you’re intimidated by it, as arousing as a cock of this size would be in any other circumstance. You scowl at the wet heat of your own spit slathered across your face and the degrading nature of it.

“You better figure this out before six o’clock,” he gripes, and you squeeze his calves with fear. You know exactly who would be getting home around then.

You open back up after he jerks himself haphazardly against your cheek a few times, glaring up at him for a split second. He lets you do it, relaxing his hold on your neck as you take up a quick rhythm. Being reminded of the impending consequences speeds up your motivations, bobbing messily around his cock until you manage to earn a heated groan from his chest. His hand trails to the back of your head, more of a cradle than a hold, fingers embedded in your mussed hair.

You grasp his thighs instead, using his body to adjust for the recoil of your rhythm. He gradually presses on the back of your head, a gentle insistence that you take more than just half the length. You force your throat to relax as best you can as you try to accommodate him, tongue draped across your lower teeth. You’re deathly afraid of scraping him, especially with the increased depth. He gets thicker towards the base, too, tempting the limits of your mouth and your ability to keep your lips clamped around the length of it.

He grunts when he meets a resistance that you truly wish you didn’t have. If this is what he wanted, so be it. But you can’t, your eyes clenching shut at the intrusion, trying to compensate with more half-hearted dips of your head. Simon’s fingers curl into your hair, suddenly holding you still, stinging your scalp with his grip. Your attempts to placate him apparently aren’t enough.

“Take it,” Simon growls, his upper body curled over you for leverage. You manage to take a short breath before he plummets back inside, fighting the sideways turn of your head as you try to resist it. He ploughs into your throat like a battering ram, fucking it deeply, uncomfortably. You feel your sinuses sting, bile creeping into them as you try to flail away. “Fucking take. It.”

You try your hardest. It’s much easier said than done.

Simon keeps you firmly planted between his legs, both hands now clasped around the back of your head, his weight pinning you down, a calf slung around your back. Your neck aches with the angle, your chest burning with the lack of air. What does he get out of this? Is it simply to make you suffer? You wouldn’t put it past him.

Your tongue lingers across the base of his balls where sticky spit begins to accumulate, strands of mess connecting your chin to his balls. You claw into his thighs, tapping, anything to get him to stop. You swear you hear him snicker, the noise dampened by the blood rushing past your ears. Your eyes open just to roll back, searching for any sense of empathy no matter how shrivelled it may be.

Finally, he releases you, just a moment before you either throw up or pass out. You throw yourself back, falling onto your ass, coughing and crying. You swipe the mess from your face and force deep breaths into your aching chest, too distracted by your misery to notice Simon standing to approach you.

“Stupid cunt,” he spits, taking your hair back into his grasp. He forces you to look up at him, and you’re not sure why you expected to be treated any differently than this. 

You burst into a startled scream when he tugs, wrapping your now loose hair into his fist. Before you can even cry, he’s quick to shut you back up. 

He cranes your neck back uncomfortably to stuff his balls along your chin, dragging the length of his cock across the bridge of your nose. He’s more forceful with it now, rutting his balls against the exposed meat of your tongue as it peeks from between your lips. His hips roll, back and forth, mushing your face around with his cock. The salty taste downturns your mouth, a bitter mixture of skin and sweat.

Now that he’s standing, he has greater leverage over you. You feel even more powerless than before, impossibly, held in place by the sheer power of Simon’s grip. Your mascara was running before, but now it’s coated your under-eyes in a haphazard, dripping mess. Remnants of other bits of your makeup dredge Simon’s cock, his hips finally reared back.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he growls, more of a whisper than any command he’d given you before. He barely waits for you to obey before thrusting his length back into your mouth. He hisses through his teeth when your own scrape against it, the affront enough to invigorate him into a hurried and brutal pulse of his hips. 

You give up on breathing. If you’re going to pass out, you’re going to pass out, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Your nose burns from the scrape of his pubic hair across it, and your little whines are suffocated by the bulk of his cock pounding into your throat. He’s much quicker now that he’s standing, having given up hope of letting you take any semblance of an active role. Your throat makes embarrassing, wet, choking noises as he pummels in and out of it, nothing more than a hole for him to take advantage of.

He slides out just to slap your cheek, spit flying from the impact. He doesn’t hit hard, but he’s accurate, the reddened shadow of his hand starting to blush across your cheek. He’s quick to get back to work with a grunt, craning your neck back again to stuff his cock back inside. You gag, but he doesn’t care, pushing past the resistance once more to enjoy the tightness of it. 

You give up knocking against his muscular thighs, simply grabbing hold of the hem of his shirt as he fucks your face relentlessly. You’re dizzy, snot streaming from your nose, spit flying from your chin and onto the floor. Simon, who once seemed all too concerned about cleanliness, seems to relish in making an absolute mess of you. You try rising from your knees in a last act of defiance, but his hold on your head keeps you in line, stuffing your nose into his groin as if to mock your attempt at escape.

“Fuck,” he groans, little pumps of his hips taking full advantage of your throat now that he’s buried inside it. Your eyes roll back, the crinkle of money sharp in your bra. You focus on the feeling of it as Simon grates the abused interior of your throat, your chest quivering instinctively as it struggles for a breath. “Look at me.”

You force yourself to look up through the sticky mess of your mascara, tears blurring your vision. Still, past the trail of hair leading from his groin to his belly, you can see the beginnings of his face. His jaw is tensed, lips parted with exertion, beads of sweat dotting his forehead as he glares down at you with what you can only interpret as rage. He’s angry, pulling your hair just that much tighter when you dare to blink or try to look away.

Finally, finally, he relents. Even though he pulls out of your mouth, he keeps you firmly planted exactly where he wants you. You clench your eyes shut to avoid watching Simon jerk the length of his cock against your face, his hot breaths sticky as he looks down at you. Heat spurts onto your cheek and you grimace, having little time to enjoy your precious breaths before snapping your mouth shut. His heavy balls bounce against your face with the rhythm of his jerking, scraping your cheek with the hair across them. Your body still forces some coughs through your suppression of them, erupting from your throat with disjointed, garbled noises, and your lips part just barely. Threads of cum breach the space between your lips, the bitter taste seeping into your mouth against your will.

Simon, in a new low, adjusts his hold on your head to spread his fingers across your face. He rides out his orgasm with your face at his disposal, globs of cum marking your forehead, cheeks, chin, and everywhere in between.

He sighs, a long, droning noise that is as much a relief for you as it is for him. You sob quietly to yourself, hands raising to wipe the mess from your face as best you can. His body, warm and stocky, glistens with a sheen of sweat. He throws his head back as he releases yours, caring not about where you end up now that he’d discarded you. He wipes the tip of his cock across your lips in a final bid to clean it. 

You can’t believe that you’ve just done that. You curl into yourself on the floor, still trying your best to keep your uniform unsullied. When you’re able to open your eyes again, you realize how silly that aspiration is; ropes and speckles of cum, spit, and sweat stain the delicate fabric. You may as well stay on the floor… it’s where you belong.

You’re not sure how much time passes before Simon speaks again. His words are muffled by something.

“Towel,” he utters, suitably calm now. 

“What?” your brain simply doesn’t comprehend the word.

“A towel,” he says more sternly this time. “You know where they are.”

You’re not sure you can even stand. Nevertheless, after staring at him in disbelief for a few moments, you force yourself onto your feet. You watch him flick a lighter and ignite a cigarette, the smell out of place given your once-pristine surroundings. You’re shaky, suppressing a few coughs and cries, looking away from the fresh plume of smoke to head towards the bath down the hall. You drag your feet, seeking support from the doorway to keep your balance. You grab the closest non-decorative towel that you find, sending a stack of them cascading to the floor. You don’t care, barely regarding the heap as you make your way back to the bedroom.

The smell of smoke stings your abused sinuses and throat. You hold the towel out to Simon, who so graciously opens one eye for you before smiling, cigarette dangling between his lips.

“Your job is to clean, so clean.”

He mirrors a previous conversation, and it sickens you, your hands shaking with a mixture of exhaustion, rage, and fear as you grasp the towel. Apparently, your mouth didn’t clean him well enough. Well, this is hardly the worst thing he’s asked you to do, at least…

That fact obliterates any shred of self-respect that you have left.

You bend down to attend to his needs, spit and cum cooling quickly in the dustings of his hair. He hisses, slapping away your hand with a sudden disapproval.

“Gently,” he scowls. The hypocrisy of the request settles heavily in your gut, but you have no option but to oblige. You simply have no idea how to handle a cock with your hands, what pressure is appropriate. His cum slicks your face, but of course, you need to be concerned with the integrity of his balls before that of your own face.

It takes some doing, but you get there. He’s as clean and dry as you can get him, only to be rewarded by a thick puff of smoke in your face. He smirks at your indignant frown and the way you turn away for fresh air, the cigarette glowing red as he takes another long inhale.

“‘S fine,” he murmurs, smoke billowing from his nostrils. “Clean yourself up and get the fuck out of here.”

You use the same towel despite the disgustingness of it, desperate to get the sludge cleared from your face. You’re half as successful as you’d like, a nice hot shower sounding better than the fistful of hundreds bundled in your pocket. You collect the few bills scattered on the floor without a word, shameless, lightheaded from the exertion of it. You sigh with relief, dropping the towel where you stand and sauntering towards the door without a word. 

“Oi,” he cajoles as you grasp the door handle. You turn back just enough to regard him, eyes rimmed red and face painted black with mascara. “Did you do the dishes?”

You merely nod twice, and it’s enough for him, apparently. He dismisses you with a huff and a wave before letting his upper body lean back against his chair. “See you next week.”

Next week. Not Thursday.

A sinking feeling settles in your gut as you realize this won't be the last time. Come next Tuesday, if Simon is here, he'll have another bonus for you. You’ll just have to make sure you’re well out of his way.

You finally leave a little past four o'clock. The day has slipped away, a surreal blur of time. The sharp scent of Simon’s cologne and the taste of bile burns your sinuses, as painfully persistent as your wounded pride.

The shower you take once you get home is hot, but not hot enough. There isn’t water hot enough in existence to burn the shame from the deeply embedded streaks across your face, scouring you from the inside out.

You worry that perhaps Simon swindled you and snuck some singles in the stack of bills that he gave you, but he didn’t. The “bonus” just barely covers your credit card bill. But hey, at least it doesn’t overdraw.

Silver linings.

[libraryofloveletters]

The Same Shade Of Red

Sebastian Vettel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: monza 2020 (double dnf for the boys in red), so much angst sorry, redbull comparisons for seb, the magic that is monza, the disaster that is ferrari and their team, talks of seb's races in monza, a few harsh/sad thoughts from seb, mentions of retirement, charles's crash in monza 2020, mentions of the pandemic, reader is the most loving wife to which seb is her perfect match, britta is sooo over you guys after years of this.

Word Count: 2.2k

Author's Note: would I be me if I didn't take monza race weekend and turn it into an ode to seb? no. ferrari seb you will always be my most beloved and fuck you ferrari for hurting my husband fr. (also this gif is so sexy I can't explain it. well I can but I will be banned from tumblr dot com)

---

Monza held a special place in the heart of your husband, in yours and in anyone that was a part of the Vettel family.

Sebastian had proven his worth, winning his and Toro Rosso's first ever Grand Prix in Monza during the 2008 season.

It was no different when he moved to Red Bull from Toro Rosso, his era of dominance brought him win after win and two of which were in Monza; the home of Ferrari.

Ever since that first win, Sebastian held a special love for Monza, as did you. There's something magical about the place; it might be the atmosphere or the fans but it has always been good to you and Seb. Whatever it was, it was nothing if not remarkable every single time.

The Tifosi held their drivers to the highest of standards, some would say next to God. Something happens to Italy when motorsport comes to town; everything changes and every single person you meet is so passionate. They live and breathe for Ferrari, they'd die for their drivers if it meant they could see them on that top step.

When Sebastian moved from Red Bull to Ferrari, he counted down the days to Monza.

It had always been his dream to drive with the red team, just as his childhood hero and friend, Michael, had done. Sebastian's first year with Ferrari was the epitome of picture perfect.

Despite coming in P2 behind Lewis and Mercedes, being on the podium at home for Ferrari meant everything to the German driver. This wasn't the first time he had gotten on podium for Ferrari, in fact he had already won twice with them that season; in Malaysia and then again in Hungary.

Monza was different; magical, special. There was something in the air, the energy was indescribable. Sebastian grinned, waving to the team from the second step.

You smiled, watching as your fiancé at the time hummed along to the Italian anthem, a country he quickly counted as his second home.

Sebastian was the king of the world that day, even though he hadn't won.

He had returned to the garage with the biggest grin on his face, trophy in one hand and the bottle of champagne in the other. He passed them over to his engineer, making a beeline for you. The man's covered in champagne and sweat and confetti, and he smells like gasoline and engine oil but he picks you up, squeezing you tightly.

You remember telling him how much you loved him and how proud of him you were. Sebastian responded with a kiss, you can taste the champagne; a familiar taste that slowly became more scarce as his days with Ferrari went on.

Unfortunately, things took a bit of a downwards dip for Sebastian after that. He was hungry to win, he was constantly in a fight for the championship every year and it was killing him that he wasn't there yet. Yes, he had won races with them and broken every record he could possibly break but if he couldn't achieve the one thing he really set out to do, the one thing he had always dreamt about, then what was the point?

Monza seemed to always have Sebastian in its grasp, tricking him as the years went on. He almost always was there, he could reach out and touch the win and yet, it slipped through his fingers. Winning in Monza meant more to a Ferrari driver than winning in Monaco would - unless you were born and raised there like Sebastian's teammate, Charles.

You were the king of the world if you won there; your name written in the history books from now until the end of time.

Sebastian longed for his name to be in the book of the greats; Sebastian Vettel, Monza race winner.

A dream that slipped through his fingers as did his hope of winning the championship with Ferrari.

After coming in P2 in 2015, things just kept getting further and further from the finish line for him. P3 in 2016 and 2017, P4 in 2018 and last year was the final shove before the cherry on top this year; P13 while his new teammate, Charles, stood on the top step as race winner, basking in the magic that is Monza.

He was happy for him, beyond happy actually and any win for the team was great but oh how he wished that was him.

Now you're back in Monza, the season had been delayed due to the pandemic and this was the first race you had been able to join him for all season. It was weird being there with the track empty; just the teams and the occasional celebrity guest that was rich enough to pay their way in.

The car has been giving Sebastian a hard time all weekend, practice was shit and he placed P17 in qualifying. It wasn't a good weekend for your husband.

"Be good," you told him while he was getting ready for the race. Sebastian nods, a witty remark about him always being a good boy slipped past his lips and you waved him off, your cheeks red as you walked back to the garage.

Watching him start from the back of the grid was breaking your heart, you knew he could manage much more than that but it's the stupid car that was giving him trouble.

He barely got a grip on the car before he drove off and into the blocks that were in the run off area. Your brows furrowed as you watched him speed through the blocks, his voice coming through the headphone - "brakes failed."

Your heart drops, eyes fixed on the screen as Seb pulls the car into the corner as best as he can without disrupting the race. He finds his way back to the garage after the marshals come for his car, Sebastian gives your hand a squeeze as he passes through and into the back hallway to his driver's room. You figured you'd give him space to cool off and you stayed in the garage to watch a bit more of the race.

It was barely 20 laps later that you saw the other Ferrari slide into the wall. To no fault of Charles, the car had understeer which caused him to lose the back half and send him into the wall. You stood there, waiting to hear if Charles spoke before you took your headphones off.

Once you hear that he's okay, you step out of the garage and make your way to your husband's driver room. You knock on the door, peeking in before he answers.

Sebastian gives you a sad smile, you can feel your heart breaking as you step in and shut the door behind you. He's sitting on the bench and you walk over, joining him.

"Charles is coming in."

"What? The race isn't over, is it?" Sebastian looks over at you before glancing out the window. You shook your head, "it's a red flag now, Charles' car has understeer, went into the wall."

"Is he okay?" He asks and you nod, "he's a little shaken up but he'll be okay."

Your hand finds your husband's, interlocking fingers. "I always admire that even when you're going through it, you still look out for others."

"I know what it's like to be in his position, it's tough."

You hum, glancing down at the racing boots that were tossed to the side, Seb's sock clad feet slide back and forth over the floor. "You know what happened today wasn't your fault, Sebastian. It was mechanical."

He's quiet for a bit, nodding at your words. "I don't know how much more of this I can take, baby."

You look over at the man, "of Ferrari or of racing?"

"Both," he answers truthfully.

Sebastian and Ferrari had come to a mutual agreement - a publicity term - that they would not be renewing his contract. You weren't opposed to it, you knew it was killing your husband to go but if Sebastian was good at one thing, it was that he knew when it was time to go, he had to go. He wanted to win with them, you think a part of him still held a tiny sliver of hope that he would find his way back to the top step as champion of the world but he also knew being there was killing him.

Mentally, physically, emotionally; he couldn't bear the pressure of staying there any longer.

"It's just a few more races, love. You can do it."

He nods, "I know but.." "Don't even go there," you tell him, shifting to face him. One of your legs hanging off the bench as the other folded in front of you.

"Monza's special, you know that." He says, "I just.. I feel like I failed." He sighs, his head hung and if your heart wasn't already broken, it was broken now.

It was days like today that made you hate the team that your husband so dearly loved.

"You didn't fail, you never failed them, Sebastian." You squeezed his hand, the man looked up at you. Your free hand comes up to cup his jaw, your thumb rubbing over the few days old stubble on his cheek. "If anything, they failed you."

"You have the talent and the skill, and the drive to win and to be a champion; it's them, babe. They couldn't give you a car that was worthy of you, you can't blame yourself for that." You look at your husband and the man sighs again.

"I should have been able to, though. Been able to get the best out of the car."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Seb, c'mon. Be for real right now, it's their shitty ass car, it's not your fault. You know Lewis's car is basically a rocket ship, plus it's not like your strategies are A1 over here."

Seb tosses you a glance, a look of disapproval on his face. "You're so not helping right now, darling."

You raise your hands in surrender and your husband smiles - his first genuine smile all weekend. You smile back, holding his face again. "I love you, Sebastian."

"I know," he grins and you shake your head, laughing. "This is usually the point where you say I love you back."

"Oh, sorry." he chuckled, "I love you, y/n."

You smile, leaning in to give him a kiss. "Good, now come on. You need to get dressed, go check on your teammate," you patted his thigh, getting up to find a shirt for the man. In the meantime, Seb pulled off his race suit and fire proofs, slipping on a pair of shorts.

"Do I really have to go?" He sits on the bench again, shifting to lay down, his arms tucked behind his head. You roll your eyes, looking through the small cabinet off to the side. "Yes, you know they'll make you out to be a villain if you don't."

"And if I wanna be a villain ?" He asks, looking over at you.

You sigh, tossing the shirt at him, "Sebastian, don't start with me right now."

The man laughs, dropping the shirt on the bench before standing up. Sebastian grabs your hand, pulling you flush against his chest. "Ew," you fake a gag, "you're sweaty."

He smiles, ignoring your comment. "I don't know what I'd do without you, I can't thank you enough for being here for me all these years."

Your hand rests on his jaw, giving him a kiss before smiling at him. "You don't need to thank me, I would do it all over again in a heartbeat but.. if you do wanna thank me, you can buy that purse I liked."

"Show me when we get back, you can take my card and order it."

"I was joking," you look at him, and Seb shrugs. "It's the least I can do to thank you for being the perfect wife."

"It's easy to do when I have the perfect husband," you smile, kissing him again. There's a knock on the door, causing you both to look in the direction of it.

"When the two of you are done being perfect, you're needed for press, Sebastian." Britt's voice from the other side of the door, making you both laugh.

Seb gives you one last kiss before grabbing his shirt, "I'm coming!" He calls to her, pulling it on. He was on his way out but you stopped him, grabbing his hand.

He turns back, looking at you as he waits to see what you wanted. "I'm proud of you, no matter what," you tell him.

Seb nods, smiling at you. "I love you."

---

taglist: @dragon-of-winterfell @benedictscanvas @elisaa-shelby @hnmaga-blog @czechoslovakiandisco @dr3lover @troybolton14 @Lovingroscoee @compulsiveshit @somanyfandomsbruh @damnyoulifee @barzysreputation @vickyofalltrades @yeolsbubbles @barzysreputation @thybulleric @valkyrie418 @ricsaigaslec @idkiwantchocolatee @sessgjarg @molliemoo3 @bisexual-desi @sunf1owerrq @alwaysclassyeagle @coldmuffinbanditshoe @sillybananamaker and @oconso cause she was fucking with the preview I sent her

[solaireverie]

sv5 | stars all aligned and they intertwined

pairing: sebastian vettel x f!singer!reader

summary: [ social media au ] despite parting ways years ago, you and sebastian somehow find each other again (or: sebastian becomes your wag after his retirement)

warnings: language

faceclaim: anne hathaway + pinterest

author's note: seb is literally the definition of a wife guy. i love him so much. enjoy!

liked by phoebebridgers, oceanblvd, sebastianvettel and 3,459,127 others

yourusername the biggest thank you to everyone who came last night. i adore adore adore all of you with my whole entire heart ❤️

view comments

user MOTHERRRRR I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR THE BEST NIGHT OF MY LIFE!!!!!!

↪ yourusername i'm so glad you enjoyed it 🥰

↪ user holy shit y/n l/n replied to me i can die happy now 😵‍💫

user the finger in the first pic??? y/n girl are you trying to tell us something 🤨

↪ user i don't get it? does it mean anything special?

↪ user it's one of the most famous celebrations of ex-formula 1 driver sebastian vettel. they dated a while ago and he was at her concert last night!!!!

↪ user awww that's cute 🥺

sebastianvettel Always lovely to see you again 😄

↪ yourusername likewise 💕

liked by sebastianvettel, gigihadid, charles_leclerc and 874,935 others

tagged: sebastianvettel

yourusername behind the scenes 🎥

view comments

user new music soon??? 👀👀👀

↪ yourusername maybe 😉

charles_leclerc 🤍🤍🤍

↪ yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

user seb and charles in the likes 😳 ariana what are you doing here?

↪ user seb's also tagged lololololol the rumors are terrible and cruel but honey most of them are (probably) true ✨

sebastianvettel Mein engel ❤️ [ my angel ]

↪ yourusername mein weltmeister (und fotograf) 💕 [ my world champion (and photographer) ]

↪ user absolutely unwell over this interaction. what do you mean seb took the photos. why are they calling each other pet names in german. UNWELL.

↪ charles_leclerc trust me it's worse in person

liked by lewishamilton

↪ user charles?!?!?!??!?! lewis?!?!??!?!??! y/n's collecting all the fast car boys fr 😭

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, charles_leclerc and 481,359 others

tagged: yourusername

sebastianvettel These hands had to let it go free and this love came back to me

view comments

yourusername this love is alive back from the dead ❤️

liked by sebastianvettel

user THEY'RE SO FREAKING CUTE?????????

user so happy for them 🥺 it was really obvious that they were in love and that it was just bad timing the first time around...

charles_leclerc mom & dad :)

↪ yourusername who taught him this??? charles darling i'm afraid i'm not quite at that age yet

↪ danielricciardo i claim the fifth

↪ yourusername you're not even american 😑

user the caption sounds a lot like a lyric 👀

liked by yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, dyl.an, billboard and 7,936,872 others

tagged: sebastianvettel

yourusername I fell terribly in love with someone when I was in my mid-twenties, before either of us knew who we were. It was a love that people write tragedies about, a cautionary tale told to children for years to come, a car wreck you can’t look away from. In the end, I walked away from everything we’d built with tears in my eyes and walls around my heart. 

I don’t regret the paths I chose and sacrifices I made. The starkest realizations I’ve had about myself came in the days after, when I cried myself to sleep and pretended I didn’t know his name. I created some of my most beautiful music when I couldn’t enter a room without seeing him in the crowd. I grew from the experience the way forests grow back after a wildfire.

However, I always regretted letting go of him. He was the one I knew I could always count on, the one who held me in my darkest days, the one whose smile I searched for wherever I went, despite knowing I was the one who erased it from my life.

Ten years later, after I had already buried everything we once shared, I received a text from an unknown number. 

What came next is well-documented in pictures, notes scribbled on coffee cups, and train tickets across Europe. While we may have been the right person at the wrong time a decade ago, patience rewards those who wait.

I found myself falling for him all over again. It felt like a homecoming and a rebirth at the same time. We had changed and matured in our time apart, but we still knew each other like the backs of our hands. At his core, he is still the man I loved, and something in my soul knew that. 

Love is a strange thing. It is something we feel deep in our beings yet something we will never fully understand. It is untameable, maddening, and fickle. It is also enchanting, captivating, and thrilling. If there’s someone in your life who loves you, count yourself lucky. If you love someone, I hope they appreciate you.

This album is both a love letter to him and for him. It is an ode to his figure against the sunrise and arms around my waist. It’s a time capsule of carnival games, elaborate bouquets, and endless late-night conversations. I treasure each and every second I get with you, especially the ones we spent writing some of the tracks together.

My love, adore adore adore is yours.

comments on this post have been limited

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masterlist

for the nerds like me, here's a breakdown of y/n's music in this verse

[viridwns]

Things KNY upper moons + Muzan (and Y/N) said, but I'm quoting my friends and I (Like fr, I'm copy pasting the texts)

Y/N: I'm stressing big time.

Y/N: But you know what's bigger?

Akaza: What?

Y/N: The distance between the ground and the top of the building I'm going to jump off.

Douma: Time to behead my dolls!

Y/N: That's the most sane thing you have said all week.

Gyutaro: I'm babysitting right now (Daki is the baby).

Y/N: Slay (Throw the baby).

Gyutaro: What no-

Douma: You scared you can't break my baby throwing record?

Gyutaro: You have a WHAT.

Muzan, done with everyone: Douma having a record in baby throwing is the least suprising thing about him.

Gyutaro: I hate foreigners.

Y/N: The R in Gyutaro stands for racist apparently.

Y/N: Guys I want to catch some pedophiles, but I got to lure them in first.

Akaza: There is no need, Douma is already here.

Douma: Excuse you?

Y/N: Don't act all suprised, you are banned from most places here. Parents tell their kids storoes about you so they'll behave.

Douma: Oh yeah lmao, valid.

Akaza: Bitch said valid to me calling him a pedo.

Y/N: Selling my feetpics are going to make sure Muzan is able to live in a retirement home later in life.

Muzan: I'M 6 MONTHS OLDER THAN YOU (FULL GOVERMENT NAME)

Akaza: YOU SELL FEETPICS?

Douma: CAN I HAVE THEM?

(We were talking about chocolate balls my friend makes for us every now and then. God bless her innocent soul)

Y/N: Who wants to taste my famous balls?

Muzan: I'm unadopting you.

Akaza: You don't have balls?

Douma: I want to taste them!

Kokushibo: I don't have my balls anymore.

Douma: Guys, important question, would you fuck your clone?

Hantengu: Have done it, multiple times, would recommend.

Y/N: What if we let your clone and my clone fuck to see if we could start a p*rn career.

Hantengu: Genius idea.

Douma: I am on the FBI most wanted list and even I have to say Y/N's brain scares me sometimes.

Muzan: Y/N, I will burn your house down if you don't finish school.

Y/N: I love how the alcoholic of this group is trying to stop me from hitting the pole.

Y/N sending a pic of them on the ground outside with their bike next to them in the middle of nowhere: lol guys guess who got hit and runned.

Akaza: IS 911 ON THEIR WAY?

Y/N: Oh now I remember why I grabbed my phone out of my pocket.

Akaza: (FULL GOVERMENT NAME)

Muzan: Oh yeah lol that was me, sorry about that.

Y/N: It's all good bruh, now I don't have to go to work.

Akaza: HAVE YOU CALLED 911 YET?

Y/N: oopsie daisy.

(Akaza called 911 for them, Muzan did not hit them that was a joke, Y/N had a light concussion and a broken leg. They never found the person who hit them)