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#on one side it’s these people claiming they aren’t like the others
r0semultiverse · 1 month
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These organizations supporting KOSA going through while claiming they want to help marginalized kids are actually so disgusting to me. The posts they make about Nex is just virtue signaling & words when their actions say let’s make things worse for these children.
I’m gonna be 100% honest, they should keep that kid’s name out of their damn mouths so long as they support KOSA. Like actually fuck you & eat shit. Actions speak louder than words, traitorous scumbags. You don’t care, you care about your stakeholders more.
Your organization can only thrive & exist so long as there’s a problem to donate towards solving. Of course you would support KOSA, you need a problem to keep existing in order to look like the good guys & solve it. Just go mask off & call us slurs & your “customers” at this point, it would be less disgusting than covering it up behind kind words.
#this goes out to the Trevor project & PFLAG as well as GLAAD & GLSEN#all of you should keep Nex’s name out your mouth when you have every intention to make things worse for trans kids#I can’t imagine going to work for one of these charity organizations & just seeing your bosses make things worse for the people you are#trying to help#I cannot imagine how frustrating & upsetting that is & then the higher ups are just like okayyyy our organization can keep existing...#so now y’all lower rank workers go help these kids whose lives we just made worse!#these charity orgs function like retail stores I stg; they need customers to keep giving them money meanwhile the higher ups make things#worse for said customers while the cashiers & others just try to help the best they can#you’re doing damage control for your incompetent & terrible upper management; it’s just like every other American workplace#you can also compare supporting a bill that would hurt the people they claim to help as a war economy comparison#they need to keep the class war going by supporting this bill in order to keep having money to keep existing as an organization#they’re playing both sides while on the surface saying we are here to help!#no you aren’t! your workers are; but you as higher ups are prioritizing stakeholders over humanity & for that you’ve lost all my respect#I haven’t looked up evidence about the human rights campaign supporting KOSA but they’ve been bad in the past so I believe it tbh#I mean the recent Zionism from HRC is enough for me to be like yeahhh no they absolutely would be in support of the Kosa bill#mine#op#the trevor project#pflag#glaad#GLSEN
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lady-ashfade · 3 months
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Our comfort
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Platonic!Yan!Camp Half-Blood x Comfort!Goddess!Reader. (Percy, Annabeth, Grover)
—£ Yes I know I haven’t finish the book but I actually couldn’t wait anymore. So, this is me with little knowledge so bare that in mind.
—£ Warnings: Book/show spoilers, Yandere! Behavior, Being bound to a place, Possessive behavior, Obsessive behavior, Manipulation, Characters fighting for the reader’s attention. Short.
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You weren’t a known for too long goddess, much younger then rest of the gods. A teenager like age compared to them. It was strange to have more powerful gods look to you for comfort but you love it. As you are the goddess of comfort.
But, as the other gods started to have many demigods you saw how miserable they could get. You hated the fact they didn’t care for their children so you decided to stay at the camp for half-bloods when the time came.
The campers cling to you. You bring a comfort they never quite felt before. It was like a warm hug, like the ones they wanted from their parents.
You couldn’t leave, and at the beginning you were glad to accept that fate.
Almost always you are found surrounded by demigods and they just relax in your comfort. You are the one they go to with every worry in their mind.
Being close to Aphrodite, her seeing you as a sister and a younger child. Stories of your love for one another are still told today, as she gave ideas to the mortals of how great your relationship was. But in reality there wasn’t much to tell.
So her children have a mentality that they are your favorite and because of their mother, they have some sort of claim to you above the others. But that never works because you love the children equally.
The demigods have less nightmares with you around and watching over them.
Ares children fight often for your affection. They will constantly get into fights with others to show they deserve more time with you. Which you always scold them but it never sticks. They kiss their weapons each time to you, like a sign of good luck. Aries children are one of the worsts ones because they get aggressive at times, even with you. But the golds make them stop by punishing them, mostly their father.
Hermes children are hard to explain really. They aren’t aggressive, but they are mischievous. They take their revenge of stealing things from the other campers, pulling pranks. Or trapping some of them up and go straight to you before they can get there. Luke for instance, is always looking around for you and talking about his day. He’s either laying down next to you, or making you watch him train.
Many games of all houses take place just for you.
AnnaBeth, is constantly by your side when she has free time. She scares off people with a glare behind your back, knowing that she could put plan them. She also trains and makes you watcher her and needs your praise. Maybe, somehow you are her older sister. But, sometimes she just chills by your side not saying anything, she’s like a lost duck at times.
Grover however is actually a lost duck. You comfort him when his past missions fail and he loses kids. You are so nice to him and makes him feel special and brave. When he has to leave he keeps a coin in his pocket with your face on it and prays a lot. He’s not possessive much. He’s willing to take what he can get and is just happy to be there. But maybe if someone comes in when he’s “crying” and having you fuss over him then he’ll be a bit mad but never does anything about it.
When a new camper arrives you devote your time to them because they need it a little more. They come into a world they know nothing of, waiting for the parent they hardly know to claim them. You claim them like your own until the time comes.
So when Percy comes you feel something off with him, like he is special and in need of a lot. He lost his mom, taken from the world he knew.
Percy becomes the most possessive out of all of them.
He feels out of place but you are always there to listen to him. It doesn’t help that you follow him to make sure he’s okay. At the beginning you’re both following each other around.
“It’s okay, Percy.” You brush his hair lightly like his mother used to do. “You’ll get claim, and you’ll have glory.” And he doesn’t care if you say that to everyone because you make him feel special. 
Also, you protect the new bloods. So you’ll show up when he gets bullied and just raise one brow and they all back off. Can’t risk making you mad at them.
When Percy gets claimed he’s all alone again, no friends and the campers looking at him funny. Being one of the top threes son isn’t fun or easy. He shares a cabin all to himself.
So he starts to be the worst of them all. Raising his voice when you try and leave him and he manipulates you to stay with him. Can’t you see how alone he is?
He can’t sleep unless he knows your watching over him.
You pick no sides of the war. Your family will figure it out themselves, while you take care of their children.
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mysicklove · 2 months
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Summary: Going to the fair with older brother Sukuna and toddler Yuuji was bound to cause some sort of trouble. But it was the tiger plushies' fault, not yours!
cw: fem! reader, curse words, sukuna almost hits someone with a ball, sukuna gives bad advice, sukuna threatens ppl, mentions of kidnapping, metaphors that dont make any sense
wc: 4.1k
a/n: i will post the prequel to all of this next! but I thought this was a silly way to show more dynamics between reader n sukuna! hope u guys like it <3
big brother au masterlist + taglist
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It was Yuuji’s idea to go to the annual fair. You thought it was a great idea – it was an opportunity to get Yuuji out of the house, and the idea of seeing the toddler giggling on the children’s rides sent you off to your computer and buying three tickets. 
Sukuna was not very fond of the idea, but you could have guessed that. He preferred to go to the fair with just you, but if Yuuji heard, he would probably throw a mini tantrum, and that would just be more work for Sukuna. So alas, it ended up being you three (as it usually was).
Yuuji was beyond excited when the three of you arrived, and Sukuna grips at the boy’s hood, sparing you a glance and rolling his eyes. “We need to get him a leash.”
You grin at him, scoffing but jumping slightly when an older boy shoves past him, making the toddler stumble backward. You grab Sukuna’s hand before he tries to yell at the other child and then pull Yuuji close to you. “There,” you sigh, successfully holding onto both of the brothers, “We all stick together. Don't get separated from us, Yuuji.”
“No running away!” he chirps, and you smile, nodding at him. Immediately Yuuji is distracted by all the flashing lights, and Sukuna has to hold onto the back of his hood to prevent him from accidentally wandering away. Sukuna claims the boy is just dying to get kidnapped, while you blame it on the toddler’s curiosity.
You guys make your way to the children’s side of the park, having to cover Yuuji’s eyes a multitude of times so that he doesn’t see the other rollercoasters. He was still talking about how excited he was to go on the rollercoaster that goes upside down a whopping three times – a rollercoaster boys of the age of four are not allowed to go on. Telling him would probably make him cry, so distractions worked better. Luckily, there were enough lights and stuffed animals around that pointing to something while you scurry past the rollercoasters distract Yuuji for long enough.
The first ride you guys made around to had an influx of people, but they all did, so the three of you stood in line listening to Sukuna’s complaints. Yuuji talked to the little girl who was also waiting in line just in front of him. Sukuna glares at you, listening to the children shriek and feeling the multitude of bodies pressed near him. “We are going home after this one.”
“No, we aren’t. Lighten up!” You try to encourage, rubbing his arm, and trying to ignore his displeased expression. “We are at the fair – look how much fun Yuuji is having.”
He glances at the boy, who, like always, is in the other child's personal space. He was clinging onto the girl’s arm and jumping up and down in excitement while the young girl looked overwhelmed. Sukuna pulls the boy’s hood, causing Yuuji to come tumbling backward. The boy, in return, merely cocks his head to the side, confused as to what he did wrong.
“Keep doing shit like that, and no girls are ever going to like you,” Sukuna reprimands, letting go of the red hood. 
Yuuji frowns, still confused, and you step in, immediately crouching down to his level. “Remember what we talked about? Personal space, Yuuji. You got to give your friend some space to breathe, sweetheart.”
The boy nods, looking at the concrete floor – even if your tone is nice, no child likes to be scolded. But Sukuna just pushes him back over to the girl, ignoring the way he trips and falls, but immediately gets back up. The two children go back to their conversation, but this time Yuuji holds onto Sukuna’s leg so that he doesn’t accidentally get too close.
Sukuna turns his attention back toward you. “Do you think they will take him in?” His head tilts to the parents of the girl.
You roll your eyes but smile. “Uh-huh, and if they did, who would you use as an excuse to go on your favorite ride, the Kiddie Coaster”
“The more you speak, the more you tempt me to just leave you both here,” Sukuna says, but there was no real threat to his words. He leans back on the metal bar handles. “Ah, how peaceful life would be without the brat spouting bullshit. Just the empty house and I, what a dream.”
You lean back on the adjacent metal, crossing your legs and sighing whimsically. “Ah, I can see it now,” you start, and Sukuna raises his eyebrow. “You are gone, and me, Yuuji, and Choso are traveling the world together. What a beautiful lifestyle without hearing any complaints.”
“Ah, and then I hunt you three down and lock you up so that you three can never have fun without me. And I live happily ever after, still alone.” 
You wonder what the couple behind you are thinking, considering they are probably close enough to hear whatever you guys are saying. But ridiculous conversations like these were common for the two of you. They never had real meaning behind the teasing words, especially since when the three of you began to load up on the small rollercoaster, Sukuna very quickly forced his lips onto yours and gives you a cocky grin before loading up next to Yuuji. And that was all the reassurance you needed – sadly, you dont get the last word, this time at least.
You two didn’t even try to sit next to each other, knowing that either way, Yuuji would demand to be placed in between you two. The boy was grinning like a madman, kicking his feet out and wishing that the ride would start sooner. Just before the ride started, Sukuna had made a teasing remark that the boy wasn’t strapped in properly, and could possibly fall out. You were lucky Yuuji was in such a great mood because the second you shut that ridiculous idea down, he immediately went back to giggling with excitement.
And a minute and a half later, the ride was over, and the toddler had more energy than before. He was practically buzzing with excitement, jumping up and down and reenacting how fast the rollercoaster was going with his hands and mouth sound effects.
You nod the entire time, smiling while the toddler babbles on about how much fun the rollercoaster was. It was adorable to watch, to say the least, and you were excited to take him on the next one. 
Sukuna was not excited to stand in line next to children again. He grabs you by the wrist and drags you over to where the fair games are located. Yuuji grabs onto your own shirt and continues to talk to you while the two of you are basically getting pulled into an unknown location. 
Eventually, Yuuji found himself in awe at the giant tiger stuffed animal that hung from the top of one of the tents. He was pointing to it and squealing for Sukuna to get it for him, and at first, Sukuna rolled his eyes and immediately said no, but then he also saw you staring at it. He taps your shoulder with his, rough enough to snap you out of your thoughts. “You really want the stuffed animal? That shit is for babies.”
“You are a pretty shitty boyfriend,” you sigh, not really taking what he said to heart, but still Sukuna immediately denies it. You ignore him and pet the child’s pink hair. “It’s for Yuuji.”
“I’ll win you the stuffed animal.”
“Win Yuuji the stuffed animal.”
“Tiger! Tiger! Tiger!”
Sukuna narrows his eyes at the two of you and then turns back over to the man hosting the game. He hands him some cash and mumbles, “If you scam me, I’ll kill you.” but the music paired with the abundance of people talking made it too loud for the worker to hear his threat. 
The man hands him three balls, and the goal is to knock down a stack of metal cans. Easy enough, but this was a fair game, so there was bound to be some sort of trick to it. A trick that Sukuna does not know.
You and Yuuji stand a couple of feet behind him, cheering him on. Yuuji was now being held by you, sitting on your hip and pumping his fists in the air at the mere idea of owning the giant plush. 
But, as you suspected, Sukuna did not win. He had managed to knock down two cups, and the last ball went flying past the man’s nose when he tried to taunt Sukuna. You could have guessed that would happen. 
This time, you are the one to drag Sukuna because if you didn’t, surely that poor worker would have a broken nose by now. It was their job to taunt people, a part of the fun, but your boyfriend’s temper did not stand for that.
Yuuji was surprisingly fine with it – of course, he did look a little sad about losing the opportunity of owning the tiger, but in the next moment he was fawning over how strong his brother was. He was gripping onto Sukuna’s pants, while the man was borderline glaring at everyone that walks by. “So cool, Kuna! You threw so fast!”
You have to hold back a laugh the entirety of it because only Sukuna would be genuinely upset over losing a fair game. But you remain quiet and let Yuuji continue to babble on to his older brother. 
Finally, after some time, Sukuna does look at his younger brother. He turns to him and grabs at his little shoulders. “This is a learning opportunity, so listen up, little brat,” he starts, and you furrow your eyebrows. Yuuji immediately perks up, ready to absorb anything his idol says. “Never trust anything. Life is a scam, and people are always trying to fuck you over.”
“Okay, yeah, so no. Yuuji–”
“Everybody is trying to steal your tiger.” Sukuna talks louder than you, and at this point, Yuuji’s eyes are wide as saucers. “Dont trust anyone or anything. Understand?”
Yuuji nods, not understanding anything that his brother is saying but trying to appease him. You pinch the bridge of your nose, also knowing that the boy is too young to understand anything. “That’s horrible advice. You are going to give him trust issues. And what’s with the tiger?”
“It’s a metaphor.”
You stare incredulously at your boyfriend. “Metaphor for what? That’s the worst metaphor I have ever heard.”
Sukuna shrugs. “Metaphor for life. Maybe you aren’t smart enough to keep up with my intellectual comparisons.” He holds a teasing smile, waiting for your own bite back.
“I dont want my tiger stolen!” Yuuji pipes up, and you spare him a glance, shaking your head and reassuring him that his tiger plush, which he does not own, will not be stolen from him. Sukuna continues to taunt him, and the two of you begin to bicker back and forth. Not with harmful intent, simply mindlessly arguing over something stupid such as a tiger plushie and the definition of metaphors.
Yuuji doesn’t say anything, head whipping back and forth to try and keep up with the conversation that he barely understands. But, eventually, after a minute of listening, he grows bored with the lack of attention on him, so he raises his hand and says, “I need to go potty!”
Sukuna groans, knowing that you will now be preoccupied with the boy again and has successfully lost your attention to a toddler. But you ignore the man and pick the boy up again, slightly frowning at him. “You need to go to the bathroom?”
“Uh-huh!”
Sukuna makes a show of how annoyed he is, but he also needs to go, so he doesn't complain too much. The three of you walk over to the moveable trailers that house the restrooms, with Yuuji holding your hand behind you as he points to every tiger stuffed animal you guys see on the way. 
When the three of you arrive, you nod at Sukuna before walking yourself and Yuuji over to the women’s restroom. The boy always came with you, being too young to go into the males alone. 
But Sukuna loves to make a show, so the second the two of you start walking in the opposite direction from him, he says, “Brat, where do you think you are going?”
Yuuji turns to him, still holding onto your hand, now with his head cocked to the side. “Potty?
Sukuna grabs onto the boy’s hood and starts pulling him away from you. “You are a man. You go to the men’s bathroom. Let’s go.”
The toddler was not considered a man under any circumstances, so you raise your eyebrows at Sukuna. It only meant that he was now the one to help Yuuji. So, you shrug, wave him goodbye, and say, “Good luck!” before you turn back to the women’s restroom. 
Yuuji seems to look concerned as he was dragged away from you, considering he always goes with you to the bathroom, but he quickly grabs onto Sukuna’s pants, knowing that he may be left behind if he doesn’t. 
And so the two of them went on with their business.  The toddler nearly runs out of the bathroom, excited to go on the rides once again, but Sukuna barks a command for the kid to stay close, causing the boy to whine, but grab onto Sukuna again. The two of them wait for you in front of the women’s restroom. 
Five minutes go by, and you are still not out. It took a long time, considering that the two of them took longer than usual because Sukuna sucks at helping the kid. But, Sukuna knows better than to complain; it could be “girl” problems like you often say.
Ten minutes go by, and now Sukuna is tapping his feet against the pavement while Yuuji presses his face to Sukuna’s side, fingers inside his mouth from nerves. “Brother, where is she?”
Sukuna ignores the boy, and calls your phone. He hears the annoying sound of your ringtone come from his back pocket, and he tilts his head back and groans. Of course, you would leave your phone with him in this situation. Yuuji blinks at him, confused as to what is happening. But then, Sukuna takes a step forward to an elderly woman approaching the bathroom, describes your appearance, and tells her your name so that she can help look for you in the restroom.
Two minutes go by, and the woman comes out and shakes her head. You weren’t in there. Sukuna’s eyes widen, before he tears himself from the wall with a sigh. He mumbles out, “If your ass goes missing, I am going to kill you.” and Yuuji’s own eyes widen at the prospect.
“Y/N m-missing?”
Sukuna grabs onto the boy’s wrist and begins to drag him away from the bathroom. “Not for long. Dont be useless. Keep your eyes open for her.”
And so, the two of them began to walk around the park for you. Yuuji had whined out that Sukuna was walking too fast and was holding onto his wrist too tightly, but it was just due to the stress of the situation. So, without letting the boy prepare himself, Sukuna reaches down and snatches him up, placing him onto his side. “Dont get used to it. Your ass is just too slow. Keep looking.”
Yuuji just nods, frowning and resting his head on Sukuna’s shoulder. If this were any other circumstance Yuuji would be buzzing with excitement, loving being held in general, paired with being close to Sukuna. But you were missing, and Sukuna was incredibly tense, so Yuuji didn’t feel comforted at all.
They had been walking for ten minutes, and at this point, you were missing for almost twenty-five minutes. Sukuna was cursing under his breath, scanning the fair that housed so many people and was successfully blinding him from you. It was getting dark at this point too.
Sukuna hears sniffles in his ear, and he quickly turns to his brother, hissing out, “Dont you dare cry right now.” The last thing he needed was sobbing in his ear. 
Yuuji grabs onto Sukuna’s shirt and shakes his head, trying to hold back the tears. “W-Wont cry. Won’t. Where is Y/N? Brother, I want Y/N.”
The elder, in return, grabs the back of his hair and presses the boy’s face into his neck. He holds him there while Yuuji squeezes his eyes shut and latches on tighter to the man, feeling slightly better now that he is pressed close to his brother. “I am going to find her. Just focus on not crying; I dont want snot on my neck, little pest.”
Sukuna begins to rewalk his steps, heading back to the bathroom. He was glaring at everyone who walked by that looked concerned for the toddler who was holding back tears. Sukuna just holds the boy tighter and continues to scan the crowd to no avail.
The entirety of it, Yuuji is mumbling out, “No crying. No crying. No crying.” while tears slip down his cheeks. He also tries to look for you, but the second he pulls away from the man’s skin, he seems to want to cry even more with the lack of security. So the boy remains placed in Sukuna’s neck, mumbling out to himself while Sukuna ignores him and continues to search. The hand hasn’t left the back of Yuuji’s hair.
But, at last the two of them make it back to the bathrooms where you originally were supposed to be. Sukuna spots a figure sitting on the curb, looking equally as stressed as the two of them felt, but with two stuffed animals in their hands. He lets out a deep breath, relief washing over him and his rapidly beating heart.
Yuuji turns his head to the side when Sukuna pauses, and immediately the boy’s eyes widen. His finger points to you, and he lets out an “ah!” sound. The boy begins to stir in his hold, trying to squirm away so that he can run over to you himself. But Sukuna doesn’t dare let him go, and he skylines straight toward your mopey figure.
The high-pitched sound of your name snaps you out of your thoughts, and before you can even process completely who it is, you are engulfed in a hug. The familiar scent of your boyfriend surrounds you, and you are pinned to his chest, nearly suffocating from the force of it.
Yuuji switches from Sukuna and on to you, squeezing you at an unreasonable force for someone of the age of four. He was sobbing into your shoulder while Sukuna’s hand gripped the back of your neck. But after a long moment, Sukuna pulls away and glares at you. “You idiot. Dumbass. Where the fuck did you go? Are you trying to get kidnapped? Look at what you did to the kid. Are you trying to piss me off?”
He continues to insult and curse at you, demanding an explanation. He was worried about you and this was the way he was expressing it to you. You have to simultaneously comfort the two brothers, who seemed to be a mess without you. Yuuji had you in a death hold, and you had to try to sush his cries, questioning why he was chanting, “Dont cry. Dont cry,” while nearly hyperventilating from tears. Sukuna’s hand grips your shoulder, and he is still scolding you, but every once in a while, would stop himself and force his lips onto yours for a second before pulling away and cursing at you.
Sukuna demanded you explain yourself, and so you sighed and told him the story. You didn’t need to go to the bathroom, and you saw a smaller tiger plushie at a game stand down the line. So, you headed over to the booth, wanting to surprise Yuuji with the tiger. But you continued to lose and eventually got completely absorbed into the game. You did not even know the time had passed and that your phone was not with you, having put it in Sukuna’s pocket last ride. But, after about fifteen minutes, you won not only one but two tiger plushies. When you walked back to the bathrooms, they were gone. And so you waited for them, hoping they would come back soon.
You must have came back right when they left to find you – an unlucky turn of events. Sukuna simply shakes his head at your explanation and then leans forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder. “I am going to put a tracker on you.”
You try to lighten up the mood, petting both his and Yuuji’s hair, who is finally beginning to calm down. “It won’t work if I leave my phone with you.”
“I wouldn’t put it on your phone,” Sukuna remarks, grabbing your hand and grinning at you. 
You dont have a clue what that means, so you just shake your head with a sigh. Yuuji’s eyelids are growing heavy from all the walking, the crying fit he had, and the fact that he didnt have his nap today. He leans onto your shoulder and begins to doze off, even with all of the noises.
The two tiger plushies remain on the curb. You sigh and pick them up, holding onto Yuuji’s for later, and giving Sukuna the other one. He gives you an unamused glance. “Why would I want a toy? I am a grown man.”
“Because I won it for you and to prove that not everyone is trying to steal your tiger. ” You quote, referring back to his ridiculous metaphor from before, that holds no meaning.
He chuckles, shaking his head. “It doesn’t really work.”
“Hm?”
“The metaphor. Doesn’t make any sense.”
You raise your eyebrows, surprised he admitted defeat. He must have been in a good mood since he had found you. “Yeah, I know. You failed English three out of the four years of high school. No wonder you dont know how to use metaphors.”
He pauses for a moment, thinking, and then shrugs and doesn’t say anything. You call it a win for you. The two of you exit the park, now that Yuuji was asleep and Sukuna could not be any happier to leave. You probably won’t be returning to the fair for a couple years, knowing him.
When you get home, you tuck Yuuji into bed – he was already completely out, drool coating his chin. You place the tiger stuffed animal next to him, excited to see his reaction to it in the morning.
And you were right – he did have a reaction, way too early in the morning. At 6 AM, the door of you and Sukuna’s shared room flies open, and toddler squeals fill the air. He jumps on your bed with the stuffed animal in his hands and chants, “Tiger! Tiger! Tiger!” while the two of you groan out.
Sukuna, in his half-awake state, grabs onto the boy’s ankle, sending him tumbling onto the bed when he tries to jump. But the boy merely giggles, and this time Sukuna steals the stuffed animal, places it under him, and goes back to sleep. 
You are awoken with two mini hands placed on your face and the sight of Yuuji pouting. The first thing you hear that morning is, “Kuna stole my tiger!” 
A second later, two tiger plushies are being chucked at the boy. The boy falls back again with an “umph!” from the force of the throw, and the bed rumbles from Sukuna’s laughs. 
“If only you used that aim on the fair game,” you mumble, eyes still closed and trying to snuggle into your pillow.
“Just didn’t have the right target.” You hide a smile, not wanting to give Sukuna the satisfaction of making you laugh by insulting Yuuji.
Yuujis giggles echo in the room, and you blink at the boy. He was sitting on Sukuna’s chest now and shoving his stuffed animals in his brother’s face. “Two tigers! Two tigers!”
Sukuna groans out, shaking his head and wishing desperately that he was sleeping. “Your tigers are about to be headless in a minute if you dont stop talking.”
Yuuji shakes his head and pushes the plushies into Sukuna’s neck. “Tigers say, grrrrrrrrr! Wake up Kuna, grrrrrrr!” 
The tigers somehow mysteriously go missing three hours later. You could only hope that their heads were still intact – knowing Sukuna, they probably were not. 
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murdrdocs · 3 months
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Idk if this is anything but Luke x unclaimed reader... you're in the same cabin and there's a small chance that you could have the same godly parent (you don't but no one knows that for sure) so it has the potential to be so wrong, but how can it be when he's making you feel so good??? It feels stepcest adjacent
MDNI 18+ ; DARK CONTENT pseudocest w/ LUKE CASTELLAN
It's quiet in the Hermes cabin. Luke tells you it's a rare sight, being the only two people in the cabin, and from your experience in the last couple of weeks, you know he's telling the truth.
Sometimes, it was so loud you couldn't hear yourself think. But your attempt at thinking would always go to a certain camp counselor with kind dark eyes and curly hair who happened to be a few beds beside you, so maybe it was best you couldn't hear yourself think.
But now, with no one else occupying the four walls other than yourself and Luke, all you can hear is your thoughts. Loud and all encompassing desires to get Luke closer to you than he should be, his hands on your body and his lips pressing into your skin.
That and the slick sounds of you and Luke's lips sliding together. The heavy breaths taking up the in between moments.
The sheer hunger of it all.
His large hands grip your shirt. Your hands tangle in his dark hair as if you're trying to pull it directly out of his scalp. You're not using your full strength, though, something you recently had to consider with your new discovery.
You have the urge to give Luke your all. Tug at his hair and his clothes until he's bare beneath you, push and pull him in malleable ways that you know he can take. Because he's like you.
He’s a demigod, just like you. Yet he’s been claimed. He knows who his father is, while you’re left in the dark.
The reminder pulls you away from Luke’s lips. He’s quick to accept the change, busying himself with kissing your neck, his large hands pressing in the center of your back to keep you against him.
Suddenly, everything is too warm. It’s too much yet not enough. You want to get away from Luke and also meld your bodies into one so that you can never separate.
“Luke, wait.”
He stops. His head lifts so his dark eyes can look at you. There’s a crease in between his eyebrows. He’s worried about you, it’s a look you know all too well.
“What is it? What’s wrong? Am I going too fast?”
Your head shakes. Your teeth connect with the plush of your bottom lip.
Luke sighs. You can tell he instantly knows what is wrong with you. “Don’t worry about it.” He brushes his thumb along the corner of your mouth just before he brushes a kiss into the same spot.
“We’re not related.”
“But how can you be sure?”
He can’t. You know it.
Luke isn’t one to lie. Not to you. So he shrugs.
“I can’t.”
You step away from him but his hand wraps around your wrist. “But I know.” His eyes flick between yours, back and forth and back and forth, before they find your lips again.
He leans in tentatively this time, like he’s unsure if you’re going to pull away or not. You don’t. Instead, you stay completely still, only reciprocating in the softest purse of your lips against his. Sensing how uneasy you still are, he attempts to reassure you once more.
“I know in my heart that we aren’t related. Okay? Does that make you feel any better?” He's trying to be patient, you can tell, but his words are slightly too snappy. A little aggressive.
His attempts at reassurance barely calm your worries, but the thud between your thighs is becoming more prominent by the moment and you need some form of satisfaction.
“Okay,” you whisper against Luke lips before you let him take all of you once more.
He leads you back to your bed, settling himself above you where he slots a leg between your thighs. Your shirt is lifted over your head and thrown to the side, your bra straps are pulled down to give Luke more skin to work with, he starts to undo the button of your pants and at this point you’re not worried about any parental connection.
Unfortunately, Lukes words bring you back. They make you feel dirtier.
“Besides, even if we were, this is too good to stop. Isn’t it?”
Because it is.
The pleasure Luke brings you is one you fear you’ll never get from anyone else, human or demigod. Maybe it’s because he knows you so well, both of you being the offspring of Gods. Or maybe it’s because he is you. Maybe your genetic makeup is so similar that he can't help but know your body as if it is his.
The thoughts are too much for your brain to handle right now and instead of focusing on them any longer, you focus on the feeling of Luke introducing one of his lithe digits into your walls.
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disneyprincemuke · 4 months
Text
count on us * fem!driver
she often forgets that she’s got a support system she can ask for help from
pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver
warnings: stalking, mentions of violence, cursing
notes: i think it's so funny how i took so long to write this that i'm only writing a note like 5 minutes after posting this LMFAO
(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)
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sebastian looks up from his phone, the noticeable lack of a woman’s voice finally sinking in. now that he thinks about it, it’s been suspiciously too long for his driver to be missing.
he raises an eyebrow as he scans the garage for the familiar face, but alludes to nothing.
he presses his lips together, silently exiting the garage to find himself in the paddocks. sending her a quick text to ask her where she is, he puts the phone into his back pocket as he makes it a mission to find the small girl.
in the crowd of people who are heads taller than her, it’s deem an almost impossible mission.
“hey, seb,” max greets him with a nod and a smile, almost passing him nonchalantly.
until sebastian reaches out to stop him. “have you seen (y/n)?”
“i have not,” max frowns. “is something wrong?”
“yeah,” sebastian turns in a circle where he is, gesturing to the empty space by him, “my shadow is missing.”
max raises his eyebrows. “that’s true. she’s usually always around you.”
“if you see her, can you give me a call?” sebastian asks. max gives him a nod before bidding him a goodbye.
he spends the better part of the next twenty minutes trying to spot her, walking the paddocks twice for good measure. yet she is nowhere to be found.
he’s asked four more different drivers if they’ve chanced upon her presence, yet there is nobody that’s seen her.
not logan, and not even oscar. which is odd.
not even a response from you. so, he goes to the one place he hasn’t tried: her driver’s room. she doesn’t frequent staying in too long on media day, claiming that she’s trying to get used to the environment of formula 1.
which, is actually working. there are times she’s able to roam the paddocks and go to interviews by herself. but half the time, sebastian or someone else does an interview with her as a calming tactic.
he knocks on her door once and goes without an answer. he knocks another time before he hears shuffling from the other side of the door.
the door squeaks open, the shorter woman peeking through the small opening she’s allowed. “yeah?”
“i’ve been looking for you everywhere. why aren’t you texting me back?” sebastian asks, looking the door up and down. “and why won’t you open the door all the way?”
“just wasn’t feeling well,” she says softly with a sigh. her head is dropped low, as if to avoid any forms of eye contact. “my room is a mess.”
“you’re not well? why didn’t you tell me?” sebastian questions with the raise of his eyebrow. “can you let me in? let’s talk in private.”
she presses her lips together, as if considering her options. ultimately, she shakes her head. “we can talk here.”
“kid, you’re being very weird. i’m concerned and-“ he pauses, dropping his head slightly to meet her puffy eyes. “have you been crying?”
she tilts her head away from him and lets her hair drop to the side of her face. “none of your business, seb.”
sebastian sighs, leaning on the door frame. “if something is wrong, you can talk to me, you know? i won’t tell anybody.”
“just the hormones,” she croaks, still avoiding his eyes. “i’ll come out in a while for my interviews. i just need a while.”
he hums. “okay. i’ll be in the garage waiting for you, okay? text me when you’re coming out.”
“okay.” and then she closes the door on him.
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oscar steps right by the garage’s entrance, careful not to cross the line that would consider him inside. “seb.”
sebastian pops up from behind the car. “oscar! what’s up?”
“(y/n) hasn’t been picking up my calls,” he admits with a sigh. “i’ve been trying to get a hold of her since we arrived on tuesday. have you got any idea where she is?”
“what?” sebastian glances at his watch. “she should’ve been out of her room by now. hasn’t she got an interview with you and logan?”
“that’s why i’m looking for her,” oscar frowns. “i had to ask lando to go first and cover for us. logan and i have been texting her but she never answers.”
“she’s been acting weird all day,” sebastian voices out in concern. “i swear she looked like she was crying when i dropped by her driver’s room earlier.”
“crying? that doesn’t happen often,” oscar mutters. “has she told you what’s bothering her?”
“she just shut the door on me and said she’d be out in a while,” sebastian shrugs. “what do you think is wrong with her?”
“i’m okay,” a small voice comes from behind sebastian. the two men turn their attention to her with puzzled expressions on their faces. “what?”
“no shorts for you today, mate?” oscar asks, eyeing her up and down. “it’s not that cold out today. why the sweatpants and jacket?”
“repping your team today, aye?” sebastian teases, reaching out to nudge her shoulder. “getting into the racing spirit, i see.”
“these were the only clean clothes i had in my bag,” she sighs, rubbing her eye. “i woke up late and i didn’t pack my bag last night. this was all i had in my driver’s room.”
“you could’ve asked me for a shirt,” sebastian shrugs. “you don’t have to get all warm in a jacket.”
“i’m alright, thank you,” she smiles politely. she grins at oscar. “we’re late for the interview, right? let’s go?”
oscar nods, watching in disbelief as she walks past him to get ahead. “yeah,” he says under his breath. exchanging a worried glance with sebastian, he quickly jogs to catch up with her. “hey, wait for me.”
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“thank you so much for your time, and good luck for the weekend,” the interviewer smiles.
the three rookies mutter a mix of thank you’s. notably, the girl sat between the two boys stands up with her hands in her pockets.
“hey, are you on mute today? what’s got you so quiet?” logan calls out to the girl who’s already halfway out the door, slowly standing from his own seat.
“nothing, i’m just tired,” she answers monotonously, turning on her heel. “can you guys walk me back to my garage today? i know you haven’t in a while, and like, you don’t actually have to. i’m capable of walking the paddocks myself. but i thought it would be–“
oscar holds up his hands in front of her. “we’ll walk you back. no need to explain yourself.”
she huffs, dropping her head low again. “okay. thank you.”
logan raises his eyebrow. “you’re not fighting with me today?”
“just really tired,” she repeats, then putting the hood of her jacket over her head. “have you guys eaten? wanna go to the cafeteria with me and grab a bite?”
“i’ve got an interview panel in like 5 minutes,” oscar frowns, slinging his arm around her shoulder. “i’m sorry. maybe logan can go with you?”
“i’ve got to film some marketing stuff with alex for williams,” logan mirrors the frown on oscar’s face. “how about we go dinner right after? it’s my last commitment of the day.”
“oh, mine too.”
“then that’s okay. i’ll just eat in my hotel room.”
the disappointment that laces her voice is prominent enough for the two young boys to exchange a worried glance.
so, logan bends down with a warm smile. typically, his snide remarks and playful tone would have been enough to get a confession out of her. so he takes the route. “where’s the remote for your chatterbox function? i want it turned up.”
“maybe tomorrow, logan. i’m very tired,” she dismisses the american, eyes still trained on her feet as they walk.
“come on, seriously,” oscar grabs her shoulders, planting her on the spot while they surround her. “what’s wrong?”
“literally nothing,” she glances up, looking into their eyes briefly. she drops her head once more and walks around them to continue making her way down the pathway.
“you’ve got to tell us someday,” oscar mutters to logan, following behind her. “you eventually give us hints, you know.”
“i won’t,” she whips back quickly, “because nothing is wrong. i’m just feeling a little under the weather.”
“you’re not fighting with me, so i don’t know, dude,” logan whispers, eyes wide at her sudden change in behaviour. “not sure which version of you i like more. i miss your chaos.”
“stop worrying,” she huffs, coming to a stop in front of her racing home. “i’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay? i’m heading back to the hotel early.”
she doesn’t wait for an answer, just turns on her heel to walk towards her doors.
oscar reaches out quickly, pulling her back towards them. “i’m only letting you go if you promise to stop ignoring our texts in the groupchat.”
“yeah, it’s sad talking to myself,” logan frowns. “oscar’s not a great texter. and he doesn’t even watch my tiktoks.”
“yeah, i do! i just don’t answer.”
“really? what tiktok did i send last?”
“that one edit about that banana cat!”
“liar! (y/n) sent that like a week ago! oscar!”
“well, you send too many! i can’t possibly sit down and watch 20 tiktoks, logan!”
“this is not what we should be worried about right now!” logan says, turning to the girl staring up at them with doe eyes. “watch my tiktoks. seriously.”
she smiles, yet the sadness in her eyes is so unmissable. “okay, i promise. and i’ll text you when i’m back in my hotel room.”
“you better actually text us,” oscar scoffs with an eyeroll. “i know your room number. i will come up and tear your room apart if you don’t.”
“okay,” she laughs. “i will remember to text you.”
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she sits quietly at the dinner table, phone buzzing the table off as she continues to gobble down her chicken wing. she stares at the table blankly as she chews consistently.
“are you not gonna pick up your phone?” max asks, putting his spoon and fork down on the plate.
the constant buzzing had been going on for almost 5 minutes, and at first, he wasn’t going to say anything. but isn’t 5 minutes too long to leave your phone unanswered if there is a possible pressing matter at hand?
“oh, i’m sorry. i hadn’t noticed,” she says softly, grabbing her phone. she glances at the screen and all the colours from her face visibly drains and she puts the phone down on her lap. “sorry.”
“it’s something wrong? why didn’t you pick up?” max asks, continuing his meal.
“just the family groupchat going off as always after my interviews for the day,” she laughs nervously, returning to her state of blank stares and eating her dinner. “i’ll answer them later.”
“isn’t dalton gonna nag your head off if you don’t answer now?” oscar chuckles.
they had managed to convince the girl to come out for dinner. but it’s only sparked up more concern between him and sebastian as she opted to be out in her team merch again.
that’s after she swore up and down that she wouldn’t be caught dead in them in normal circumstances where they’re not needed. which also raised max’s eyebrows when he walked into the restaurant and was shocked by the striking purple that made their table stand out amongst the rest.
“he can wait a while longer,” she shrugs.
max pouts his lips. “why are you in team merch, anyway?” he asks, reaching out to pull on the material of her jacket. “you made fun of me for like 4 days straight when you realised i wear red bull merch too often.”
“i have to say i kinda get where you’re coming from,” she answers calmly. “they’re very comfortable.”
“comf–“ max looks around the table in disbelief. “you said that even if they’re comfortable, they’re not very ‘going out’ outfits. what?”
she turns to look at him, bored. “i changed my mind. you’re actually right.”
max sinks into his seat. “what’s gone wrong with the world?”
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yuki had been minding his own business, scrolling on instagram when he heard a familiar squeak by a quiet corner outside the paddock’s gantries.
“hey, leave me alone!” a hushed voice says, before he hears shoes thumping against the floor. “i’ll give you the stupid pass if you never bother me again.”
“c’mon. that wasn’t the only agreement we came to. you have to let me take you out on a date,” a deeper voice says.
“yeah, not a chance! you think stalking me for two races and sending me unsolicited pictures would help your chances?” he recognises that voice.
he peeks over the corner, eyebrows raising in shock when he sees the driver push the unnamed man away from her.
“and if you weren’t scared of what i have in here,” he lifts up his hand to show her something, “then you wouldn’t have answered my messages.”
there’s silence for a while, before she grunts. “fine, whatever. here’s your pass. leave me alone in the paddocks, seriously.”
yuki studies the man’s face, before scrambling to walk away from where he is. he hums, walking as fast as he can to the gantry without looking suspicious.
when she pops up next to him, chest heaving with a sweaty forehead, she smiles. “hi, yuki.”
so he smiles back. “hi.”
and then he makes a sharp left after entering the paddocks, on his way to find max. the driver had mentioned the girl acting suspicious and asking a favour of him and daniel to keep an eye on her.
he never actually expected to be the one who find out.
“i think i know what’s bothering her,” yuki says softly, pulling max away from gp with an apologetic smile. he’s thankful that the engineers had been working on the car. he doesn’t have to hush himself so much after all. “i saw her… right outside the paddocks just a while ago.”
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“seriously? you didn’t fucking tell us someone was harassing you?”
she sighs, arms folded over her chest as she looks between the men towering over her. she sinks into the comfort of her beanbag chair, defeated by their efforts to find out what’s wrong.
“and we had to find out from yuki because he was fortunate enough to overhear your conversation outside the paddocks?” sebastian shouts. “what the hell! that’s so dangerous.”
“he has pictures from my cloud, seb! that means screenshots of our conversations and my private pictures! i can’t risk that getting out! i’m hated enough as it is!” she explains, trying to reason out before getting another scolding. “can you please see where i’m coming from here?”
“no, because meeting him all by yourself is absolutely fucking insane!” logan throws his hands in the air, trying to make her see how ridiculous the whole situation is. “dude, you could’ve been mauled! nobody even saw you leave the paddocks.”
“imagine what could’ve happened to you? what would we tell your parents?” max adds on, hands on his hips. “this was very reckless.”
“i-“
“and if he planned to physically hurt you, what were you planning on doing?” logan cuts her off, hands on his hips as he grows more frustrated. “did you actually have a plan or were you just winging it?”
“it’s not even that. the way you thought this was even a good idea is beyond me!” sebastian tugs at the roots of his hair. “you should have told somebody!”
tears start to fill her eyes, lips pouted out as they start to quiver. the harassment had started about two weeks ago during their previous race.
initially, she had marked out the instagram dm to be from a spam account. until they sent her a picture only she would be in possession of: her and logan at a beach club from when he was 20 and she was 18 in barcelona.
suddenly the messages and the threats didn’t stop. she couldn’t only think of the repercussions it would have on her career, but everybody else’s who is involved in her life.
her cloud includes a collection of screenshots from their most ludicrous conversations and night outs.
“hey, i was only doing that to protect everybody i know!” she shouts, tears starting to spill out of her eyes. “there’s pictures and screenshots i’m sure each and everyone of you would like out of the public eye! i’ve got a fucking video of you,” she points at max, “giving daniel a lap dance in zandvoort!”
she points at logan, “and you,” then oscar, “and you wrestling to push each other into the pool in your underwear from years back!”
she turns to sebastian. “and you drunkenly crying because you regret retiring from formula 1!” she pushes herself off the seat. “i didn’t know what else to do. i’m sorry, but i didn’t see it going any other way than me caving in to what he wanted me to do.”
“i don’t know, get a fucking lawyer and sue his ass?” max asks.
“yeah, i’ve not got the funds for that! thanks for noticing!” she screams at the older driver, stomping her feet into the ground. “god, i didn’t know what to do, okay?”
she looks at the man in the corner of her room, leaning against the wall staring at the ground blankly with his arms in the pockets of his shorts.
“well, you’re awfully quiet, aren’t you?” she points out. “nothing else to add on with everybody’s criticism of how i seem to have mishandled the situation?”
oscar looks up, meeting her eyes for a split second before looking away again. he presses his lips together. “it was reckless,” oscar says. he shrugs when she prompts him for a longer answer. “it’s done and it’s over. let’s figure out how to get him to bugger off, yes?”
“yes, but you have got to realise how wrong this could have gone so easily,” sebastian sighs, slightly calmer than he was a few seconds ago. “come on. be realistic.”
she frowns. “i didn’t know what to do, okay?”
max sighs, walking over to her. he lays his hand on the top of her head and pats it gently. “i’m sorry for shouting at you. i was just concerned. something bad could have really happened to you.”
“i know, but-“
“it’s okay,” max soothes her, pulling her into his arms for a hug. “you held a potential scandal off pretty well. but don’t do it like this again.”
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“this is never going to work,” she mutters under her breath. after a wonderful qualifying session, she stands in her least favourite dress.
“it’ll work,” max mutters, “i’m max verstappen.”
“literally what’s that got to do with anything?” she scowls, extending her hand out to land a hit on his arm. “that name means nothing to this man!”
“you don’t know that. i’m a very powerful man,” max mutters dejectedly, hand pressed against his chest to feign hurt. “you’re not very nice.”
“shut up,” sebastian mutters, rolling his eyes at the two unlikely drivers to have gotten along very well. “we spent all qualifying session thinking of a way to get you out of this. be quiet.”
“fine,” she says softly, folding her arms. she takes a step back and sighs as logan takes her into his side for a comforting hug. “i didn’t know what else to do.”
“it’s okay,” logan whispers, rubbing her arm. “it’s over now. we’ll handle it for you.”
“i’m handling it for you,” sebastian mutters.
he straightens his shirt and stands a little taller as a figure comes down the dark alley of the paddocks.
“oh, you brought back up?” the man, who sebastian has come to know as ryan, grins. “big fan.”
“shut the fuck up,” max says, stepping forward when he stops in front of her.
“yeah, here’s how it’s gonna go,” sebastian says, pressing his palm into max’s chest to stop him. “you’re going to hand over that thumb drive or she sues you.”
he scoffs. “with what money? she’s only an underpaid rookie.”
“she’s got a whole grid of 21 other rich drivers ready to back this lawyer up,” sebastian says calmly. “don’t make it any harder for yourself. just hand it over before you get served.”
“i call bluff,” he shrugs simply. “you don’t want something like this out in the media.” he tilts his head to throw a teasing stare at the girl in logan’s arms. “especially not when it’s tied to her name.” he looks back at sebastian. “she wouldn’t let that happen to her.”
max clears his throat. “what if you just listen to us before we make this very difficult for you?”
“like how?”
“just trust me,” max smiles sweetly with a nod. “i can find ways to make life difficult for you.”
“what if i only leak pictures of her?” ryan grins, gesturing to the girl now throwing her head back in despair. “you’ve got good pictures, by the way. can’t wait to have you all to myself, you pretty little thing.”
“yeah, i’m done hearing this fucker out,” oscar mutters.
“oscar-“
logan is barely able to grab the australian’s arm before oscar has already lept forward to shove the man back.
“so i’ll make it difficult for you,” oscar smiles politely. his arm darts forward again, bunching up the material of ryan’s collar into his hands. he yanks him in. “i’m going to take that thumb drive out of your pockets myself, and then i’ll beat you with my own bare hands,” he points behind him, “while she watches.
“and then i’m going to get the best lawyer, find the judge, bribe them both and the jury combined,” oscar chuckles dryly, “put you in jail. and then i’m going to go in there and tear you limb from limb again.”
“ah, you’re too nice. you’d never.”
“say bet?”
“bet.”
“oscar, come on!” she shrieks, stumbling forward to yank him back. “you don’t beat people up! come on!”
“yeah, but i do!” max cheers, his hand darting out to shove the man back harder than oscar did. he stumbles a couple steps back and almost loses his balance, regaining it slowly. “i’ll finish what oscar started. come here.”
“hey, nobody’s beating this man up!” sebastian shouts, before quickly trying to lower his voice to avoid any unwanted attention. “listen, mate. i can make sure a court hearing goes by softly. benefits us, but gonna make you go broke. you decide.”
max lifts a finger into the air. “and don’t forget: i’m born petty. i already know where you work, so if you wanna keep that job…”
“and keep having a damn job for the rest of your life,” sebastian finishes max’s sentence. he holds his hand out, waiting for the item to be surrendered to him. “you know what’s best for you. come on.”
“fine, but-“
“there will be no buts, there will be no negotiations,” max grunts, rolling his eyes. if it weren’t for sebastian, he would have already given these three the show of their life. “you will listen to seb. end of story.”
“fine, whatever,” the man sighs, throwing the thumbdrive at sebastian. he tilts his head once more and winks at the girl. “let’s go for our date — that’s the one condition.”
“seriously, why haven’t you let me beat the crap out of this guy?” oscar asks ludicrously, throwing his hands in the air. he turns back to him. “we just said no negotiations. go and fuck off somewhere else.”
“and you better leave (y/n) alone because i grew up with brothers,” logan smiles, “i can fight.”
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she moves her head lower, looking at oscar with wide eyes. she takes her spoon out of her ice cream cup and sways it in oscar’s field of vision. “hey.”
“yeah?” oscar asks, lifting his eyes from the table to meet hers.
“you mad at me?” she pouts her bottom lip out before dropping her gaze. “i’m sorry.”
“sorry for doing what you thought would help you out of a situation?” oscar smiles emphatically at her. he stabs his spoon into his ice cream and puts a firm grip on her wrist. “next time just come to one of us, okay? we’ll handle it.”
she presses her lips together as she sighs. “right. i forget that i don’t have to fend for myself anymore.”
“yeah. we’ve got your back. always,” oscar snorts. “you’re one of my best friends. logan and i would flip the earth for you.”
“likewise,” she smiles. “i’d help you bury a dead body.”
“maybe let’s not go that far.”
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1K notes · View notes
solarmorrigan · 4 months
Text
Steve Harrington is absolutely the sort of person to become emotionally dependent on a pet. He grew up lonely and he loves taking care of things, and here's this creature that loves him unconditionally and is dependent on him for care? He's a goner
He finds a kitten in his backyard, wet and cold and alone, but in pretty good shape, all things considered. It hisses and swipes at him, but it's also mewing pathetically, and Steve can't just leave it, so he manages to get the thing inside with minimal blood loss (all his) and cleans it up and feeds it. It's a lot more amenable to the idea of Steve once it's warm and dry and full, and by the end of the day, it's curled up and purring in the crook of his neck, and Steve is already prepared to die for this thing
He does recognize that the right thing to do is to ask around and see if anyone is missing a kitten, which he does do, but no one on his street or the next one over lays claim to it, and there aren’t any kind of wanted posters going up for it, so Steve decides he is now the proud owner of a cat
He names her Baby and dotes on her accordingly. (In his defense, the name is Robin's idea; she tells him that he treats the cat enough like a baby, so the name might as well fit. Steve's always been shit at coming up with names, so he just goes with it)
Baby is the world's most spoiled cat, which Steve readily admits. But isn't that what cats are for? She's a wonderful cat and she clearly deserves nice things and Steve is going to get them for her. Toys, treats, a plush cat bed, the best food, whatever he thinks she could possibly need or want. If "I work hard so my cat can live a better life" t-shirts had existed in the 80s, Robin probably would have gotten one for him and he probably would have worn it
Of course, it helps that Baby actually does adore Steve. With everyone else, she ranges from frosty to outright hostile (she's taken a particular dislike to Eddie, of all people, which is unfortunate, because Steve really, really likes Eddie); she'll consent to be admired, and she'll accept treats, and she might even let more familiar people pet her, but in the end she is very much Steve's baby. If he's home, she's stuck to his side like a burr, curled up wherever he is and purring away, content just to be with him. She still snuggles up in the crook of his shoulder at night, just like when she was a kitten, even though she's bigger now and is a bit less easily accommodated
It goes without saying that Baby is strictly an indoor cat. Steve lives right up against the woods and there are predators out there, and people in town drive like assholes, and Steve won't take the chance of her being eaten or run over or meeting some other horrible fate. He really doesn't think his heart could take it
But of course, because all cats are terrible bastards at heart (affectionate), Baby darts out the back door one day as Steve is coming in off the patio, chasing after some other small animal that Steve can't even see, and she's out of the backyard and up towards the trees before Steve can do much more than make a grab for her
And Steve, who has survived interrogations and monster attacks and many situations objectively much more stressful than this, does not panic. He does spend half the night wandering around in the trees with a flashlight, shaking a bag of cat food and calling for Baby, but that's not panicking, that's problem solving
He eventually gets too cold and too tired to keep going and has to pack it in for the night. He holds onto some shred of hope that she'll be waiting by the back door when he wakes up, wondering why the hell it's taken so long for him to come let her in, but apparently that's not the way life works, because the patio and all areas around the house are still distinctly catless come daybreak
Eddie shows up sometime mid-morning, just as Steve is preparing to head back out and look for her. He has genuinely never seen Steve so upset; he looks like he might actually cry if he doesn't find that damn cat, which just isn't something that Steve does. But he's actually fucking distraught, and Eddie simply can't have that, even if Baby is his nemesis, so he goes to the phone and makes some calls
He cashes in on favors, he makes promises, he actually agrees to pay Mike ten bucks to show up, but he gets the kids, all the older teens (the only reason Robin hadn't been there already is because Steve hadn't paused long enough to tell her what was going on), and even the Corroded Coffin boys up to Steve's house to comb the woods for Steve's damn cat
It's Eddie who finds her in the end, a shock of pale, mewling fur actually stuck in a fucking tree. The cliche nearly kills him – either that or trying to climb down a tree one-handed while holding a cat. He's surprised she actually lets him pick her up, but then again, she's been out here all night, she's cold, and at least she recognizes Eddie. Maybe this is the beginning of a truce
Or, she might go back to hissing and swiping at Eddie any time she the mood takes her, but Eddie doesn't even care, because Steve is elated to have Baby back, so fucking happy that he doesn't even seem to notice that she's digging her claws into his arm as she clings to him for dear life all the way back to the house. Eddie will deal with anything that Steve loves that much
Steve pays for pizza to thank everyone for putting their Saturday on hold to search-and-rescue a cat, and everyone warms up and eats their fill before slowly filtering back out of the house. And later, after Baby's been cleaned up and fed and properly doted on and is purring away curled up over a heating vent in the living room, Steve takes Eddie upstairs to show his thanks in a much more thorough manner
After all – Baby is very important to him, and he's more relieved than he can say to have her back, but she isn't the only thing that Steve adores
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valeskafics · 5 months
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"Study Session" - Michael Gavey x Bimbo Girlfriend!Reader
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a/n: the first michael request i ever received, obvi from @officerbrowneyes heeheheh 🩷
Summary: Michael helps you study for your upcoming exam in a rather... Unorthodox way.
TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, oral f receiving, edging/teasing, tiddy succin, p in v sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink
Word Count: 2,250 words
Rating: 18+, MDNI
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Saltburn characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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Michael knows that if he introduces you as his girlfriend, nobody in the fucking world is going to believe him. His roommate is gone for the weekend and you’ve come up from London, so without speaking to anyone, he brings you straight to his dorm, grinning to himself when you attack him with kisses the moment the door closes. When you’re with him, he’s able to show a side of him that he seldom shows to anyone else.
You’ve known him since the two of you were kids and were best friends growing up. You were one of the few people he found he could tolerate, and in turn? You were one of the very few people who were willing to put up with him. You were an odd pair, needless to say. You, sweet and popular, well-liked around the school. Him, more on the intellectual side, snobby about said intellect to the point of others finding him insufferable. But you never did. He used to wonder if it was you being too stupid to understand when he was insulting you, but that wasn’t it. 
You may not be gifted when it comes to math or science, but you’re quite intelligent so far as history, literature, philosophy and the like go. You were always willing and able to help him when it came to understanding the symbolism in the novels you were assigned to read, the esoteric concepts in philosophy. Though you may have come off as a bit of an airhead, you certainly had your strengths. You were just as smart as him, only in a different way.
When the two of you got together, after a late night study session back in year twelve, your peers weren’t particularly surprised. Your friends didn’t really accept him, but it didn’t matter. Not when you would run into his arms every time you saw him, showering him with the love and affection he never thought he needed.
Michael was devastated when you didn’t get into Oxford, as were you. He remembers holding you in his arms as you cried when you got that rejection letter. It had been the plan all along, for the two of you to go to uni together. You looked up at him with those big, teary eyes, asking if he was going to break up with you now since you were too stupid to get into Oxford, that you would be attending King’s College all the way in London. He remembers pressing a kiss to your forehead, saying that you wouldn’t be able to get rid of him that easily, that you were stuck with him. That he had you and was never planning on letting go of his sweet girl.
You just giggled, burying your face in his neck, letting him stroke your back as you calmed yourself down, letting him use the sleeves of that maroon sweater you so adore to wipe your tears.
That was when the two of you said “I love you” for the first time.
And that wasn’t the only first you had that night.
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For the first time in quite a while, Michael is greeted by the sight of you laying on his bed, wearing a tight little cropped tee shirt, one that makes it glaringly obvious that you’re not wearing a bra, your nose buried in a chemistry textbook.
“Why aren’t you wearing a bra?” Michael blurts out, dropping his backpack and taking a seat at his desk, spinning the chair around to face you.
You give him an adorable little pout, one that draws his gaze to those perfectly plush lips of yours, “Because I just woke up! And it’s my boyfriend’s dorm!”
Michael’s cheeks flush a bit, but before he can respond, you bound over to him, seating yourself in his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck and he rests his hand on the bare skin on your thigh. You’re always so soft and warm and perfect for him. He can feel himself getting hard at the way you squirm on his lap, your ass rubbing up against him. That’s when he notices that you’ve elected to wear his favorite underwear of yours, a pretty pink thong that shows off your… Assets quite nicely.
“You’re just trying to tease me, aren’t you?” Michael mumbles as you press your lips to his neck. 
He rolls his eyes as you giggle and reply, “Is it working, baby?”
As he moves his hands to your ass, opening his mouth to respond, the two of you are thrown for a loop when none other than his roommate throws the door open. He does an exaggerated double take upon seeing you, a total fox, sitting on his nerdy roommate’s lap, and seeming quite content to do so.
“Mate, is that your girlfriend?”
“Yes,” Michael replies through gritted teeth, frustrated at the sudden interruption just when things were about to get good.
You give a friendly wave to the newcomer, “Hi.”
Michael’s roommate stares at you, jaw dropped, eyes nearly popping out of his head as he replies, “H-hey… I just came back to, uh, grab something.”
You completely ignore him, instead chattering away to Michael about something or the other, a fact that doesn’t fail to bring a smile to your boyfriend’s face. His roommate just stares at the two of you in shock for a moment before grabbing his backpack and leaving, shaking his head in incredulity.
“Sorry about the creep,” Michael mumbles, pressing his lips to your temple.
“Hm?”
You are so fucking oblivious sometimes, he thinks to himself. Michael shakes his head, watching as you fling yourself onto his bed, returning to your chemistry notes. He watches the way your ass bounces ever so slightly as you land on the bed, discreetly palming himself over his jeans before going back to his computer. He can see you out of the corner of his eye, one ankle behind the other, kicking your feet, scribbling away. You are so fucking adorable and sexy at the same time, it drives him absolutely insane.
The two of you study in silence for a while until you let out a huff of frustration, plopping yourself in his lap once again, “I need your help.”
“Hm? With what, pretty girl?”
“I can’t balance these equations,” you declare, letting out an annoyed huff, “We haven’t done this since year ten and I can’t do it, Michael.”
“Oh, love, you can do it, you’re just being lazy,” he teases, hands sliding up your shirt, cupping your breasts, moaning at the feeling of the soft flesh against his palms, “Fuck, you feel so good…”
“Michael!” You scold, pouting and moving off his lap, “I need you to help me.”
“Shall we use our tried and true method?”
He looks at you, eyes twinkling with excitement. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks at the memories of all those late nights in school when Michael would help you prepare for exams in a very special way.
You bite your lip, looking up at him, “Are you going to do the thing?”
“Yeah, love.”
You watch as he sinks to his knees in front of you, hiking your legs over his shoulder, glasses slightly askew, his hair still uncombed. You can feel that familiar knot in your stomach at the sight, grabbing your chemistry notes, whining slightly as he nips at the flesh of your thighs.
“Michael,” you protest, leaning your head back, only to yelp as he lands a light slap over your clothed core.
“Balance that equation. Focus, baby, I know you can be a good girl for me.”
You pout and look at the equation in front of you, the numbers and letters all blurring together, the feeling of Michael’s lips on your skin just being so much more interesting, “Okay… Um, 1 CH4 plus 3 O2…” You try to work out the equation, letting out a lewd moan as Michael mouths at your pussy over the fabric of your underwear, “Miiichaeeelll…”
He looks up at you with mock seriousness, glasses fogging up and sliding down the bridge of his knows, a wicked twinkle in his eyes, “Come on, baby. Do it for me.”
Michael loves the way you whimper and melt at his touch, at the slightly demanding tone of his voice. You try focusing on the equation again, mumbling to yourself as you try to solve it.
“It’s… Hmm… 2 CO2… Plus 2 H2… Ohhh my God…”
You let out another moan, your hands flying to his hair as continues mouthing at you, moving your underwear to the side to give a teasing lick to your pussy. He looks up at you, holding eye contact as he continues before pressing a kiss to your thigh.
“You did a good job, baby. Now do one more for me and we can have some fun, yeah?”
“But you said… Michael,” your lower lip trembles slightly. Fuck, he loves it when you get all weepy and needy, “This isn’t fair!”
“If you want Daddy to give you a reward, you better balance that last equation, baby.” Michael gently strokes your clit over the flimsy fabric, making you gasp as he demands, “Be a good girl for me, baby.”
You nod shakily as he nibbles at your thigh, beginning the last equation on your study sheet, “H2 plus O2…”
Michael gazes at the way the band of your thong digs ever so slightly into your hips, your soft supple flesh on display and just for him. He licks his lips, letting out a sharp breath, waiting for you to answer the question, your brows knitted together in concentration in that way he has always found so adorable.
“2 H2O?”
He nods, pressing a kiss to your knee, “Great job, baby. You ready for your reward?”
You nod, biting back the smile that threatens to spread across your lips, “Yes, Daddy.”
You let your head fall back against the chair as Michael buries his face between your thighs, moving your underwear aside once again as he laps at your folds eagerly, not having been able to taste you since the end of summer. Your hands fly to his hair, feeling his nose rubbing against your clit. You whimper softly, grinding yourself against the cleft of his nose, making Michael chuckle against your skin, the vibration driving you nearly over the edge. You gasp as he moves to suckle at your clit, pumping two long fingers in and out of you, his teeth grazing against your sensitive nub in a way that drives you wild. His fingertips brush against that rough patch inside you that has you squealing his name as you come undone on his tongue and fingers, your entire body going lax. 
Michael moves to rid you of your underwear, pressing it to his nose and inhaling deeply in a way that has you turning to hide your face. He laughs, turning you back toward him, pressing his lips to yours, making you taste yourself on his tongue. You moan against his lips as he moves to lift you onto his lap, sitting in the chair. Your hands move to his jeans, undoing them enough to free his cock, already achingly hard for you, the tip leaking with pre cum. You use your thumb to spread it across the tip, giggling at the way he groans your name.
He lifts you by the hips, letting out a sharp breath as you sink down on his cock. You’re so warm and wet and tight around him that he thinks, if this had been your first time, he would’ve cum right away. But luckily? The two of you have had a bit of practice now. He moves you up and down on his lap, reveling in the little mewls of his name you let out. Your tits bounce in his face and he moves to lift your shirt, eyes going wide with delight at the sight of your bare breasts. He moves to take one of your nipples in his mouth, his tongue moving over it, feeling it pebble beneath his ministrations before giving the same treatment to the other, nipping at the sensitive skin slightly as he continues bouncing you up and down in his lap.
The fat head of his cock bullies against your sweet spot with each movement, his hips bucking up against yours as he continues bouncing you up and down on him, both of you getting closer and closer to your peak. Michael buries his face between your tits, moaning against your skin, his hands sprawled across your ass, squeezing it and kneading the flesh between his hands. Your hands move to his hair as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, squeezing around him tighter and tighter until you soak his cock, white hot pleasure overtaking your entire body, Michael’s own end following soon after. He pulls out of you, thick ropes of his spend coating your stomach, both of you breathing heavily as you come down from your respective highs.
You smile at Michael, pressing your lips to his forehead, fixing his glasses, all fogged up from the exertion of your previous activities, “I love you so much, Michael.”
“I love you too, baby. You’re going to do great on that exam.”
You can feel him hardening against your stomach, giggling to yourself as you begin kissing his neck, “Round two?”
“Oh, you read my mind, love.”
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1K notes · View notes
moremaybank · 7 months
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STAKE YOUR CLAIM — j.m
pairing jj maybank x fem!reader
summary jj isn’t happy when he finds out you’ve been sleeping with other people on the island, so he’s sure to set the record straight. you’re his, and his only.
warnings unprotected sex, possessive!jj, slapping, choking, spitting, degrading, bondage, breeding, marking, dacryphilia, semi-public sex, anal fingering
author’s note special thanks to @blueicequeen19 for this request. you pulled this out of me and i’m eternally grateful, babe ♡︎ i hope you like ittt
jj masterlist
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The air is charged with tension as JJ’s hand closes around your wrist, his grip firm as he leads you away from the crowd of the party and into an unoccupied room. His jaw is set, and you can feel the anger simmering off his tan skin. 
“Damn it, J, let go of me,” you demand, trying to tug your wrist free from his grasp. 
JJ’s grip only tightens. He shoves you into the empty dining room and slams the door behind you, locking it shut. He turns to you, his eyes burning deep into your soul.
“What the hell is your problem?”
“Don’t play dumb. Don’t act like this is all on me,” JJ snarls. “Who the fuck do you think you are, huh? You can’t just let anyone touch you, Y/N.”
“Excuse me?” Your voice rose. “You don’t get to control who I see or what I do. We aren’t exclusive, JJ. I’m not yours.”
JJ’s jaw clenches, and his fists ball at his sides. He steps closer to you, and you back up until your back hits the large wooden table behind you. “Try again, sweetheart. You are. Don't make me knock you up to prove it to you.”
You scoff and try to shove past him so you can leave, but JJ doesn’t make it easy for you. 
“You’re not going anywhere,” he states. His hands find their grip on your hips, and his index fingers dart out to tease the hem of your skirt. Goosebumps form on your skin at the contact, and you mentally curse yourself for always reacting to his touch that way. It’s like your body knows it needs him to feel alive. His eyes find yours once again. “You're such a whore, you'll let anyone inside that pussy, won't you? Kook. Pogue. Touron. Doesn't matter does it?” 
“Fuck you,” you spit. “Who I sleep with is none of your business.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, baby.” He pulls your skirt and panties down with one harsh yank and lets them pool around your ankles on the floor. Then, he tugs your tube top down, revealing your bare tits. His fingers pinch your nipples fiercely, and you bite back a moan. “You’ll never need anyone else but me. You understand?”
You don’t respond. You can’t even look him in the eye. It’s crazy how far he can push you and still have you coming back for more each time. No one makes your heart race the way he does. No one gets you soaked and makes you scream the way he does. He’s animalistic and unforgiving with how he fucks you, and that’s just how you like him. He knows it, too, and he isn’t afraid to use that against you.
His hand curls around your throat, and your eyes unwillingly find his. “No one gets to touch you. No one but me.”
JJ lets go, and you watch as he undoes his belt and slides it out of the loops of his shorts. One hand draws your wrists in front of you, and the other works quickly as he loops the leather around them. He fastens it as tight as it can go. Then, in a swift motion, he has your back flat against the table, and your restrained wrists above your head. He mutters an order to keep them there, and he quickly moves to spread your legs. 
“‘M gonna get an apology from you whether you like it or not. You really shouldn’t be this greedy, baby.” You’re already wet, and JJ can feel it when he slaps your pussy. You mewl as the sensation tingles and stings at your core. He slaps it over and over again, relishing in the cries he’s already pulling from you while barely doing anything. You squirm, trying to move your hands to get him to hold off, but his free hand keeps them pressed to the wood. 
The more he continues, the more pitiful you become. You're crying out, and your cunt is all swollen and hot. You're pleading for more friction, more sensation, anything, but JJ's enjoying your sounds far too much to stop.
“That hurt, baby?” He asks, his tone condescending, completed with a sadistic smirk. You nod, and he lets out a taunting whine. “You sure? ‘Cause you're soaking my hand so much that it's dripping. Your pussy's giving you away, sweetheart.”
You feel insane. How could he have this much power over you? Turning you into a crying mess and making you look forward to his punishments like this? You must be brainwashed. Or maybe, JJ’s a sorcerer. Either way, his metaphorical and physical hold on you has you locked in for life. 
Once he deems that you’ve had enough, he smacks your ass harshly from the side, before using both hands to spread you open more. He ducks his head down and licks a stripe up your pussy, tasting your sweetness as it coats his tongue.
“God, I wanna ruin this pussy, baby. Ruin it for you, and for anyone that tries to compete with me. I want you to cum so much that it hurts, wanna see those pretty tears run down your cheeks. I'm gonna fuck you ‘til you pass out and then wake you back up with my cock buried inside you.” 
One hand frees his cock, and he gives you no warning as he slams inside of you. He’s so deep that you can feel his tight balls against you. He’s also stretching you so wide that you feel like he’s piercing you. His hips pick up a relentless pace, his hips snapping against yours so hard that the table shakes beneath you. 
“So fuckin’ tight, feels like you’re tryin’ to push me out, pretty girl,” he grits. His hand finds your throat again, squeezing as he fucks you into the hard surface. Your core is burning at how forcefully he’s rutting into you, but the ache is so addicting. Your legs are squirming, trying to find the strength to wrap around JJ’s midsection, but you can’t. JJ notices, and he laughs at the look on your face. “Learning your lesson, aren’t you?”
JJ’s right hand comes up as he slaps your cheek, not too hard but hard enough to make heat rise. “Tell daddy you’re sorry. Maybe I’ll take it easy on you.”
All you can manage is a whine, a strained mm leaving your lips as you screw your eyes shut. This only makes JJ worse. Your eyes shoot back open when he slaps you again. “Say it,” he commands. 
“‘M s-sorry, daddy.”
“No,” he tuts as he squeezes your throat harder and slightly cutting off your air. “Louder.”
“I’m sorry, daddy!”
He spits in your face and grins wickedly when he sees you lick up what you can. “Now beg me to let you cum.”
He pulls you up, his hand curling around the back of your neck while the other holds your leg around his waist, keeping you open. His pelvis smacks against your far-past-swollen clit. Tears well in your eyes, and your wrists begin to burn as the leather rubs them raw. You’re trying to free yourself so you can brace yourself on something. You’re unlucky and unable to do so, just as JJ planned. 
“P-please, daddy. Let me cum, it h-hurts,” you hiccup. Your doe eyes stare up at him as he fucks you with reckless abandon, unfazed by your pleas. 
“Aw, you wanna cum, sweet girl? Not yet. ‘M gonna make you wait.” The bastard becomes even more cocky if possible, and leers at you. “You wanna know why?” 
You whine, the tears starting to slip past your eyes as you try to keep your sanity intact. JJ inches closer to your face, gnawing on your bottom lip and drawing it out before releasing it with a snap. 
“‘Cause I love how pathetic and dumb you sound when you beg for me.”
JJ Maybank is evil. You’ve known it for a while, but his actions today only solidify it. You could be as good as you wanted for him, but the patronizing son of a bitch will never admit defeat. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, exactly how he wished to. 
By now, your entire body is convulsing, and you’re void of any energy. JJ knows this, of course. He loops your bound wrists around the back of his neck and scoops you up in his arms. He walks over to one of the walls surrounding you both, and he practically slams your back against it. His cock splits you in half with each hard thrust. His hands migrate to the back of your thighs, spreading you as he pounds you into the surface.
“I can’t hold it anymore, daddy. It hurts, n-need to cum so— so bad,” you plead. You can’t keep your eyes open anymore. You’re trying like hell, but it just isn’t happening.
“Too bad, baby. You aren’t cumming until I say so.”
Your head leans to one side as you begin to sob. The burn in your core is about to take you out. You can feel it. It’s fiery, and threatening to give out. It only worsens when JJ’s teeth come into contact with the sensitive skin of your neck. He sucks and nips at it harshly, pulling at it and leaving his mark anywhere he can manage. He feels you clamping down on him, smirking evilly when he pulls out of you abruptly. 
“‘M not gonna let you win that easy, baby.” 
He sets you down on the rug near the table, your knees digging into the fabric. Your arms stretch above your head once more. JJ kneels behind you, spreading your cheeks so he can spit onto your puckered hole. He pops a finger in, and pushes his cock into your pussy again. His hips move at warp speed, and you’re on the verge of being fucked brainless. He’s smacking your ass and finger-fucking your ass as he pummels into you. You’re screaming at this point, mascara tears running down your cheeks and soaking the carpet beneath you. 
“Beg me for my fucking cum. I know you want it,” he grits. 
“Oh, god! Please, daddy!”
“Again,” he demands. “Tell me how bad you want it.”
“Give me your cum. Give me your fucking cum. Pleasepleaseplease.” Your throat is sore, so so raw from the sobs and JJ’s grip on it earlier. You’re sure there’ll be some bruising when you’re done. “Need it, daddy, please.”
“Fuck. Those cries are too pretty, makin’ me so hard. Wanna keep hearin’ ‘em. Keep cryin’, princess.” 
He doesn’t really have to ask because they’ll pour out of you whether you control it or not. Your vision is going black, your entire body limp as you lie there and let him use you. 
“I’m gonna cum. Cum with me,” he says. He slams into you a few more times before his balls tighten, and before you know it, he’s spurting his seed into you with the most delicious groan you’ve ever heard. You finally cum, drunk from his cock and so far gone that you wonder if you’re even alive anymore. 
“You,” he pants, “need to piss me off more like that again.” He frees your hands, and lifts you, carrying you over to one of the chairs at the table. Your ass stings when you slump into your seat, and you hiss. JJ crouches down in front of you, wiping your tears and leaving soft kisses all over your body. The juxtaposition of his forceful demeanour to his now gentle one makes you dizzy. “You with me?”
You want to glare at him, slap his smug grin off his face even, but you can barely breathe. 
“You’re a fucking caveman.”
His dimple pops out, “And yet, you still let me fuck, didn’t you?” 
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1K notes · View notes
andvys · 8 months
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I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | S.H.
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Warnings: hurt/no comfort, angst, sad ending, allusions to cheating, heartbreak, break up, King!Steve, popular!reader, poorly proofread
Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader | Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler
Summary: Steve is slipping through your fingers and you desperately hold onto him not realizing that his heart isn't yours anymore.
Word count: 2k
Note: This is only the preview, I wanted to see how this will do before I write the actual story! @take-everything-you-can thank you for listening to my ideas and helping with more!
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The red wine is seeping through his shirt, staining his soft skin with it’s stickiness. He clumsily tries to wipe it off with a random cloth he found in Tina's bathroom, as though it would help, as though he could undo it, as though the redness hasn’t already stained too much of the blue material. 
He is mumbling incoherent words under his breath. 
You roll your eyes, reaching for the cloth in his hands, “it’s not coming off, Steve–”
“It’s coming,” he mumbles, drunkenly.
You sigh, walking around him, you put the cloth on the counter and reach out to him, cupping his cheeks, “come on, just let me take you home.” 
“Why don’t you go home?” 
He looks down at you with a look in his eyes that you aren’t familiar with. He furrows his brows as he looks into your eyes, searching for something that he won’t find in your eyes, ever. 
You are scared of it, you are scared of him, of what he feels, of what changed. You act like you don’t know what changed, you act like you are clueless, you act like you are unaware of everything that’s been going on behind your back. But you know everything. 
You know that Steve isn’t who you want him to be. 
He is King Steve and you are the queen of Hawkins High– you didn’t give that title to yourself, you never would, in a way it’s humiliating to you that people claim you to be some sort of queen, some mere girl that people look up to for some reason. You are nothing but a simple girl and Steve is nothing but a simple guy but unlike you, he loves the attention, especially the one he gets from all the girls, the ones that make him feel desired. You always hated the way he flirted with them even when he was already with you– he said he only did it because of Tommy and the other guys from the team, they always encouraged him to flirt with them. You didn't understand it, you would never do that to him. His flirtations were only halfhearted and he never actually did anything but it did nothing to make you feel better. Still, you stayed with him because you loved him and because you knew that he only did it for show, to keep up his stupid reputation.
After all he did only have eyes for you. Only you were allowed to see sides of him that no one else saw, only you got lingering looks, soft touches and kisses, only you got to lay in his arms and listen to the beat of his heart, only you were his girl, his only girl. Only you got all the I love you's.
He took you out on dates, he gave you flowers, he kissed you in his car, in downtown bars, behind the school, in his room, in your room. He made you happy like no one else did. He once did.
You were his first love, you had hoped that you would be his only love but then she came along and his love for you was just gone. 
When he suddenly stopped flirting with every girl that batted her lashes at him, you had hoped that he finally stopped caring about what his friends thought, you had hoped that he was finally ready to show everyone that he wasn’t like that, that he wasn’t some playboy who needed more than his girlfriend to keep him interested and satisfied but that was simply too much to wish for. You were a fool for considering that in the first place.
His eyes strayed away from you weeks ago, he had set his eyes on her, the girl that stole him and his heart away from you like it was nothing.  
Nancy Wheeler. 
The pretty freshman who was assigned to be his partner in some stupid history project. 
You knew that he was gone the moment he stopped calling you every night just to hear your voice before going to bed, you knew that his love had started to vanish when even after the project was over, he kept canceling or even forgetting date nights, you knew that his heart wasn’t yours anymore when you caught him staring at her with a look in his eyes that you wished to see when he looked at you. 
He isn’t yours anymore but you still hold onto him because he is still here, right in front of you and he puts his hand around your wrists, not hers. He looks into your eyes, not hers. But he doesn’t look at you with love or adoration in his eyes, no. He looks at you with something– with nothing. There is nothing in his eyes and you can already feel yourself growing sick because you know that this is it. You knew this was coming, you knew this would happen eventually, he will leave you, for her. 
You don’t know what happened between them, if anything happened at all, you don’t know if he crossed that line yet, he did emotionally but did he physically?
Your heart begins to pound in your chest, the sound of the music outside is too loud, even when you are stuck in this bathroom with your very drunk boyfriend who is about to shatter your heart into tiny little pieces, you still hear the music and it’s hurting your ears. Your throat tightens and your vision blurs. You feel like you are suffocating. 
“W-Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, not even recognizing your own voice, it’s so shaky and so far away. 
Steve frowns, he shakes his head a little as he keeps looking at you. His eyes flicker down to your cheeks, to your nose that he used to kiss every time he would say goodbye, your lips that are trembling from the fear that is running through your body, he holds your wrists tighter as he looks back into your tear filled eyes.
What is he doing? 
You step closer to him, blinking those tears away, you whisper his name, begging and pleading with your eyes. You love him. God, you love him so much. 
He says your name. Not baby, not honey, not babe, not princess. He says your name. 
“L-Let’s go home, okay?” You mumble shakily, tearing your eyes away from his, “let’s just go home together.” 
"Together?" He slurs as he stumbles forward a little, you steady him by grabbing his waist.
“Yeah, you wanted to stay with me, remember?” 
“I-I don’t wanna stay with you, I don’t wanna be with– with you,” he mumbles, closing his eyes, he sighs. You smell the alcohol in his breath, the wine on his shirt and it makes you feel nauseous. He grabs your shoulders and suddenly his touch is too much, knowing that it’ll be the last time he touches you. 
“W-What do you mean?”
He is too drunk to see how scared you really are, how hurt you truly are. He is too much of a fool to see anything. 
“You heard me,” he says as he gets closer to your face, “I don’t want to be with you,” he spits. 
You draw back, furrowing your brows and holding your breath as you feel your heart dropping to your stomach, of course you weren’t prepared for this even though you saw it coming. 
“Why not?”
He looks bad, his hair is messy from all the tugging all night, his eyes are red rimmed and he has dark circles beneath them, like he had been up all night, his eyes are filled with so many things yet none at all, right now, you don’t recognize him. 
He is gripping your shoulders tightly, you wish it’s because he is afraid to let you go. 
“I’m not in love with you anymore.” 
And just like that, with a few simple words, he broke your heart. 
Steve Harrington, the man you gave your heart to so willingly, despite your friends warning you about him, despite all the warning signs, you gave him your heart and you never regretted it even though you should have but he was your Steve. He was. 
Steve awaits a reaction from you. He expects you to break down, to slap him, to push him away from you, to ask why but you don’t. In fact, you don’t give him a reaction at all, you just nod at his words, somehow managing to keep the tears from falling, your trembling lip tells him that you do want to cry though but you don’t. 
The bile rises in your throat, you want to throw up, you want to fall to your knees and puke your guts and your heart out but you swallow harshly and close your eyes for a moment, pressing your lips together to keep yourself from sobbing. 
Please wake up, please wake up. You think to yourself, let this be a dream, just a bad dream. You want to wake up, in his arms, in his embrace, you want to feel his kisses on your shoulder, his fingers running through your hair, to hear his morning voice, to hear him say I love you. But you will never get any of it again. It’s over. 
“Okay,” you whisper, shakily. 
You step away from him, pushing his hands off your shoulders, you nod to yourself as you open your eyes to look at him one last time, “okay.” 
An unfamiliar feeling runs through him, gripping at his heart, it hurts and he suddenly feels nauseous. He blinks and stares at you as though he doesn’t understand what just happened. 
You look into each other’s eyes, you both drown everything else out, the voices outside, the music and the ongoing party. 
It’s over. 
You feel grief, the way you felt it all this time already, knowing that this was coming. 
He feels it too, though he doesn’t understand it yet. He doesn’t understand what a huge mistake he just made, how much he will despise himself for doing this to you, how much he will come to regret this. When he feels the loss of your touch, his heart begins to understand a little. 
Deep down you know that he will come back to you, he will. 
Unable to stand around him any longer, you step away, “I’ll get Tommy or something, he’ll drive you home–”
“What about you?” He asks as though he didn’t just tell you that he doesn’t want to be with you.
Your heart is hurting, it’s hurting so badly that you start to forget what it ever felt like to be loved by him. Your tears threaten to fall so you step around him and reach for the doorknob, “goodbye, Steve.” 
He says your name but you don’t dare to turn around to face him, you keep the sob in, pushing it down as you open the door and step out of the room.
By the time the door slams shut, you are already crying, the tears are streaming down your face as you rush through the hallway and down the stairs, not caring about the looks of curiosity of the people around you, you don’t care about anything right now. 
You stumble down the stairs, almost crashing on the hardwood floor if it wasn’t for your friend catching you before you can even take the fall. 
“Hey, oh my god, are you okay?” She asks as she steadies you, watching you with concern in her blue eyes. 
You shake your head as you look at her. 
She looks around as though she is searching for someone but when her eyes settle on him standing by the stairs, not walking down just yet, she knows that it’s him who made you cry. 
She rolls her eyes, putting her arm around you, she pulls you away from the stairs and out of the house, wrapping her cardigan around you after you both step out into the cold. The front door closes and despite the loud music, the laughter and all the people around him, Steve swears that he heard it shut, it echoed and it made him wince in pain. 
He doesn’t understand the deep regret in his chest, the pain in his heart and the confusion in his soul. 
He doesn’t understand it yet. 
-
next part
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Text
When Facebook came for your battery, feudal security failed
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When George Hayward was working as a Facebook data-scientist, his bosses ordered him to run a “negative test,” updating Facebook Messenger to deliberately drain users’ batteries, in order to determine how power-hungry various parts of the apps were. Hayward refused, and Facebook fired him, and he sued:
https://nypost.com/2023/01/28/facebook-fires-worker-who-refused-to-do-negative-testing-awsuit/
If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/05/battery-vampire/#drained
Hayward balked because he knew that among the 1.3 billion people who use Messenger, some would be placed in harm’s way if Facebook deliberately drained their batteries — physically stranded, unable to communicate with loved ones experiencing emergencies, or locked out of their identification, payment method, and all the other functions filled by mobile phones.
As Hayward told Kathianne Boniello at the New York Post, “Any data scientist worth his or her salt will know, ‘Don’t hurt people…’ I refused to do this test. It turns out if you tell your boss, ‘No, that’s illegal,’ it doesn’t go over very well.”
Negative testing is standard practice at Facebook, and Hayward was given a document called “How to run thoughtful negative tests” regarding which he said, “I have never seen a more horrible document in my career.”
We don’t know much else, because Hayward’s employment contract included a non-negotiable binding arbitration waiver, which means that he surrendered his right to seek legal redress from his former employer. Instead, his claim will be heard by an arbitrator — that is, a fake corporate judge who is paid by Facebook to decide if Facebook was wrong. Even if he finds in Hayward’s favor — something that arbitrators do far less frequently than real judges do — the judgment, and all the information that led up to it, will be confidential, meaning we won’t get to find out more:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/12/hot-coffee/#mcgeico
One significant element of this story is that the malicious code was inserted into Facebook’s app. Apps, we’re told, are more secure than real software. Under the “curated computing” model, you forfeit your right to decide what programs run on your devices, and the manufacturer keeps you safe. But in practice, apps are just software, only worse:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/23/peek-a-boo/#attack-helicopter-parenting
Apps are part what Bruce Schneier calls “feudal security.” In this model, we defend ourselves against the bandits who roam the internet by moving into a warlord’s fortress. So long as we do what the warlord tells us to do, his hired mercenaries will keep us safe from the bandits:
https://locusmag.com/2021/01/cory-doctorow-neofeudalism-and-the-digital-manor/
But in practice, the mercenaries aren’t all that good at their jobs. They let all kinds of badware into the fortress, like the “pig butchering” apps that snuck into the two major mobile app stores:
https://arstechnica.com/information-technology/2023/02/pig-butchering-scam-apps-sneak-into-apples-app-store-and-google-play/
It’s not merely that the app stores’ masters make mistakes — it’s that when they screw up, we have no recourse. You can’t switch to an app store that pays closer attention, or that lets you install low-level software that monitors and overrides the apps you download.
Indeed, Apple’s Developer Agreement bans apps that violate other services’ terms of service, and they’ve blocked apps like OG App that block Facebook’s surveillance and other enshittification measures, siding with Facebook against Apple device owners who assert the right to control how they interact with the company:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/10/e2e/#the-censors-pen
When a company insists that you must be rendered helpless as a condition of protecting you, it sets itself up for ghastly failures. Apple’s decision to prevent every one of its Chinese users from overriding its decisions led inevitably and foreseeably to the Chinese government ordering Apple to spy on those users:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/11/foreseeable-consequences/#airdropped
Apple isn’t shy about thwarting Facebook’s business plans, but Apple uses that power selectively — they blocked Facebook from spying on Iphone users (yay!) and Apple covertly spied on its customers in exactly the same way as Facebook, for exactly the same purpose, and lied about it:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar
The ultimately, irresolvable problem of Feudal Security is that the warlord’s mercenaries will protect you against anyone — except the warlord who pays them. When Apple or Google or Facebook decides to attack its users, the company’s security experts will bend their efforts to preventing those users from defending themselves, turning the fortress into a prison:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/20/benevolent-dictators/#felony-contempt-of-business-model
Feudal security leaves us at the mercy of giant corporations — fallible and just as vulnerable to temptation as any of us. Both binding arbitration and feudal security assume that the benevolent dictator will always be benevolent, and never make a mistake. Time and again, these assumptions are proven to be nonsense.
Image: Anthony Quintano (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mark_Zuckerberg_F8_2018_Keynote_%2841118890174%29.jpg
CC BY 2.0: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en
[Image ID: A painting depicting the Roman sacking of Jerusalem. The Roman leader's head has been replaced with Mark Zuckerberg's head. The wall has Apple's 'Think Different' wordmark and an Ios 'low battery' icon.]
Next week (Feb 8-17), I'll be in Australia, touring my book *Chokepoint Capitalism* with my co-author, Rebecca Giblin. We'll be in Brisbane on Feb 8, and then we're doing a remote event for NZ on Feb 9. Next is Melbourne, Sydney and Canberra. I hope to see you!
https://chokepointcapitalism.com/
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mushroomates · 8 months
Text
legolas headcanons:
is, by all accounts, the worlds most awkward elf
most of the fellowship doesn’t even realize how weird he is
thranduil did not socialize his boy well. legolas is not aloof he just has no idea what he’s supposed to be doing.
will walk very slowly with exaggerated movements around hobbits because he thinks they won’t see him otherwise.
the hobbits thinks this is elf custom. frodo theorizes this is because elves want to rest their eyes and ears when they’re at home, so other elves like to announce themselves so no one gets spooked.
this is aided by the fact that legolas loudly announces his presence whenever he enters the room, just incase you missed it.
this conclusion is false. legolas will approach other elves by charging at them, full speed. alternatively, shooting an arrow in their vicinity for a vibe check.
he also likes shooting at people to wake them up and/or scare them
legolas likes that it’s a gentle reminder to his companions that he could kill them at any time and they should be honored that he doesn’t.
aragorn has options about this. legolas tells him that he should be grateful that such a skilled elf is on his side and cares for him. aragorn maintains that if legolas really cared, the elf would stop waking him up with ‘good morning’ shots. he also would like to note that legolas’s loud singing is only slightly better than an arrow flying at you first thing in the morning:
legolas tries to make friends by staring at them from afar and when they look at him he looks away. like a cat. he will also blink at u as if to say “look! i like you! i’m closing my eyes!!!” again, like a cat.
will bring you small gifts to curry favor, also like a cat. interesting rocks and pretty feathers, samples of dirt, fallen leaves in different shapes and colors, and whatever flowers are near by and catch his eye. gets very upset if you don’t marvel at them for the appropriate amount of time.
will eat bites off of your plate. this is a form of endearment. he’s showing he trusts you and likes you. he’s also showing his inability to cook and hopes you’ll take pity on him by sharing your food.
sometimes will intentionally walk loudly around the camp if he’s bored, angry, or lonely so he can wake aragorn up and they can be awake together :)
likes to sing, loudly, at inappropriate times
no one in the fellowship has seen him piss. some of the hobbits are under the impression that elves don’t pee. aragorn and gandalf do not correct them.
up at the asscrack of dawn. this is annoying, because he’s chipper, looks amazing, and is a tad judgements that you aren’t as well.
captain obvious as well as worlds most unhelpful elf ever. will point out your mistake, claim to know how to fix it and half the time not offer the solution or his assistance.
cannot do laundry. he doesn’t even get dirty enough to consider it, and with how little people in middle earth wash their clothes anyway, none of his clothes have been cleaned for easily centuries.
is very confused by dogs. doesn’t understand what he’s supposed to do with them. they’re always so happy and want (physical???) attention and,, it’s not a one and done thing either. you’re supposed to keep petting them? after you already pet them.
they’re like wolves, but smaller and maybe stupider. they also stink. boromir has explained to him many times that dogs are man’s best friend and are beautiful creatures. this worries legolas, because that means either dogs are more evolved than they let on,, or men are significantly further behind than elves than he first thought..
can not play the harp. is upset by this fact.
never really bothered to learn how to harp, either.
he believes he should be able to play the harp regardless because the harp is just a big bow with many strings. this is, in fact, false.
will eat anything. mushrooms and questionable berries mean nothing to him.
this upsets aragorn as he believes legolas is setting a bad example for the hobbits, dispite hobbits having the most durable digestive systems. (note: elves can eat almost anything, but hobbits have the stomach of a labrador retriever. they are always hungry, can can eat anything, even what they’re not supposed to)
DID set a bad example for boromir, who mistakingly ate some of the berries legolas offered him and had the shits for weeks.
is like 90% sure who frodo is. it’s definitely one of the hobbits. it’s probably not the one with the pony.
is faceblind. he can’t recognize other people’s faces for the life of him. if you asked him to pick out aragorn in a sea of humans, he’d panic dispite knowing the man for 50+ years.
this also goes for all races, including dwarves. gimli thought he might just be racist and covering his ass, but then watched him stall for like 30 minutes making small talk with some lorien elves and try (and fail) to pick celeborn out of the crowd.
does know what galadriel and thranduil look like. has a hard time pointing out elrond.
will forget your name almost immediately after you tell him. guys like 3k old and has met a lot of people give him a break
to be fair he does know who you are and what you sound/look like. defining features like voice and hair help a lot. it’s just if you were to give him a book of cropped faces and ask him to name, just one,,, he’d panic and throw it at you.
feels robbed of the golden ages,, resents the fact that the world he knows is drastically different that the world he could have been. wishes there were more elves his age and just more elves in general.
that being said he wouldn’t change this for anything as the world he’s in gave him the friends he’s made and the adventure of a life time :)
he doesn’t wash his hands. like ever or at all.
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barblaz-arts · 1 month
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I think people have been accustomed to couples being in that honeymoon phase when they’re shown onscreen together. We ALWAYS see that with newly-established couples in pretty much any type of media… But that’s not Chaggie.
Charlie and Vaggie have been together for years. Their honeymoon phase has long past. They’re not doing outlandish displays of affection. They’re just, comfortable. Doesn’t mean they love each other any less, just that those sappy moments aren’t as common anymore
Yes! also the way a lot of people are surprised that charlie and vaggie aren't only best friends is such a good example of the double standards wlw ships get. thinking they aren't dating is understandable. Overlooking that Vaggie and Charlie were meant to at least be shipped together is INSANE.
If i never knew they were dating already, i and so many other sapphic ship lovers would be eyeing tf out of Vaggie and Charlie's relationship. Lookit some of the things that happened/are established before the "she's my girlfriend" line in ep 5
- the newcaster lady made a homophobic comment towards Charlie, saying she "doesn't touch the gays" when Charlie tried to give her a handshake
- THIS
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- just all the times Vaggie would soften up as soon as she sees Charlie smiling or being her dorky self despite being previously upset/angry
- Vaggie's whole friggin verse in Whatever It Takes is very obviously meant to be romantic
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- Charlie being worried about Angel Dust while Vaggie gives her the most "i love you and im sad that you're upset but i love that you're upset over something like this because it shows how amazing of a person you are" look at Charlie as she tucks her hair behind her ear
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- Angel: I think this belongs to you *hands Charlie over to Vaggie*
- just all the casual touches they do that would totally be read as shipping fuel AT LEAST if it happened between a male/female duo or two men
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- the fact Vaggie woke up?? Looking beside her to find Charlie?? To show that they sleep in the same bed?????
- Vaggie offering her hand unprompted when Charlie was having a stressful phone call with her dad and Charlie readily accepting it
And I'm sure there are people who'd go "But it's always shown from Vaggie's end! It looks so one-sided!" So? Aren't there tons of ships out there that seem one-sided but yall are perfectly fine shipping? And it's harder to see Charlie's love for Vaggie because Charlie at her core is a very loving and affectionate person. Of course it's gonna be more obvious for Vaggie since she's so prickly towards anyone else.
If all these things still happened without any of us knowing that they were actually girlfriends, we'd have a certain section of the fandom shipping it hoping they DO become canon while others would be claiming we'd be ruining a perfectly good platonic friendship by making it gay. They'd say we're reading too much into things.
But they ARE a couple. we aren't reading too much into things because it was meant to be read as romantic. And yet we're still the delusional ones for thinking an already established sapphic couple is "cute and interesting" because now they're claiming they simply dont have chemistry. It's frustrating.
Of course I have my criticisms too. The show could portray more of how Vaggie is more special to Charlie than anyone else, have them flirting more overtly or something. But any argument that they're "so boring i thought it was het" is invalid to me because i damn well know if at least one them was a dude a lot of them would be saying otherwise.
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fandomxpreferences · 4 months
Text
Man Eater (18+)
Masterlist
Pairing: Rafe Cameron x dark femme female reader (like siren energy)
TW: toxic, manipulation, smut, I think this counts as dub con, oral ( f receiving), I think that’s all but as always read at your own risk
Summary: Rafe can’t help but fall into your trap every single time.
Word Count: 2.8k
A/N: this is not my best work but I’m dipping my toes back in so please be nice to me
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As much as he hates it, there’s something about you Rafe just can’t let go of. You're mysterious and seductive without trying; the most elusive woman he's ever met. You hold all the power, and for some reason, he keeps coming back for more.
Nobody knows what the two of you do behind closed doors. You show up when you feel like it, and every single time Rafe is waiting on his knees for you. Every time you leave he swears he's done, but then you call or show up and you're all he can focus on. You have a hold on him in a way that no one ever has before.
You don't think twice as you walk into the gala at tannyhill wearing a red gown; you smile and greet familiar faces just like usual. You're somehow kind and heartless at the same time, and Rafe has never been able to make sense of it.
He swears his breathing stops altogether when you make your entrance, but he remains stoic as he sips on whiskey. There’s something so powerful in the way you carry yourself; like you either own the place or don’t care who does. It draws him in and he can’t help but be mesmerized by just your presence.
He watches people move out of your way and men nearly break their necks as you float by ethereal and beautiful as ever. You’d think you’re a royal that should have a security team the way you command the room, and Rafe can’t look away.
You know he’s there and you can feel him watching your every move as you slink toward the bar and stop just a few feet away from him. While you may be sweet as sugar to most, Rafe gets to see the opposing side of you.
It's as if you're a siren; so beautiful and innocent one moment and sinister the next. He shifts closer so your shoulders are almost touching, and flags the bartender down with the subtle wag of his finger.
“She’s with me. Pour from our personal collection.” He instructs, and the man nods.
You glance over at him with a smirk and place your clutch on the counter before propping up on your elbows. You raise your eyebrows expectantly, and as if he has been perfectly trained, he orders your usual drink without further instruction.
“Always so eager to please.”
Your tongue darts out to wet your crimson-stained lips, and Rafe watches you with the same predatory gaze he always does.
“Only you.”
The way you stare up at him through thick lashes and winged eyeliner nearly makes him collapse, and he tries to calm the wild beating of his heart. You’re the type of beautiful that’s intimidating; so stunning that even the unshakable Rafe Cameron quakes in your presence.
You take a sip from your glass with a wink before strutting off, and he grins to himself. He knows how lucky he is to have you in any sense, and he also knows that you’re not in a place to be tied down.
Still, it doesn’t stop him from longing for more. He’s certain that you were made for him; and that there aren’t any other men in outer banks truly capable of keeping up with you the way he can.
As strong as he is, even Rafe falls victim to your spell. Anyone else would simply be steamrolled, and he thinks on some level you know that. He knows you two would rule Figure Eight together and be unstoppable, but he’ll accept what you give.
He’s not usually worried about you getting around because even if you aren’t exclusive by any means, you’re extremely selective. You don’t seek attention; that's why you get so much of it. Normally, you don't pay it any mind.
Tonight, however, Rafe clenches his jaw until it aches as you nurse drinks made from his liquor while rubbing another man's arm. He knows he has no claim to you; you’ve made that very clear. He isn’t even sure if you have his name saved in your phone.
Despite having that knowledge, he finds himself slowly maneuvering through the crowd in your direction. You lock eyes with him over the shoulder of the man sitting in front of you, and you quirk your brow just enough for Rafe to notice.
It startles Rafe sometimes; how your eyes sparkle with the same thrill and mischief as his. You’re easily just as crazy as he is and he’s absolutely addicted to the rush of being with you.
“My dad wants to say hello.” Rafe lies, not giving you a chance to speak. He can see the way you’re weighing your options in your mind. He knows there’s a possibility that you tell him to fuck off; despite your arrangement, going home together is not a given.
“Excuse me.” You politely smile, giving one last squeeze before releasing the man's bicep and stepping around him.
Rafe’s arm wraps around your waist instantly, with his hand splayed across your side and onto your stomach as he holds you close to him. You stumble a bit in your heels when he jerks you into him, but don’t show any emotion.
“Bit bold tonight, aren’t we?” You say just loud enough for him to hear, and his fingertips dig further into your flesh.
“Not bolder than wearing a dress with your entire back out and drinking my liquor with another man.” He bites, and you let him lead, not wanting to cause any more of a scene. He doesn’t stop until you’re standing in his room and shuts the door.
He stays facing away from you for a moment, and you tap your shoe impatiently.
“Did you bring me up here just t-“ You’re cut off when Rafe tilts his head back and sighs with annoyance.
“Shut up and listen.” He turns around and you try to cover your shock at his forwardness.
“Are you fucking other guys?”
You open your mouth to answer but he takes a stride forward and grips your chin between his thumb and index finger.
“The truth.”
When you don't speak, he narrows his eyes and takes a step impossibly closer.
“Look me in my eyes. Are we ever going to be more or am I really just a hookup? I need to know.”
You give him a pointed look but he doesn't waver and you roll your eyes.
“Rafe, don't pull at this thread. You know what this is.”
He licks his lower lip and nods before pulling back.
“I can’t do this with you anymore.”
Without skipping a beat, you close the distance he created and run your hands across his chest and onto his broad shoulders.
“I know you like it when I dress up, Rafe. Let's just work it out with our bodies, yeah? Let me ride you and ease your mind.” You purr and with lightning speed, Rafe grabs your throat and spins you around so your back is pressed against the door.
“Don't.” He grits out, but you can see the will starting to crumble in his ocean eyes.
You push against his chest just enough to get his attention, and he keeps his hold on your neck as you slowly move him backward. You both know that this dance always ends the same way, and it infuriates him as much as it turns him on.
He crashes back onto the mattress and you stand between his knees while he peers up at you. If you asked him, Rafe would insist that you’re not real. He swears there’s a glow surrounding you as he finds himself succumbing to you once again.
You reach back and slowly unzip your dress before wiggling your hips dramatically and letting it pool around your feet. You leave the heels on and swing one leg up so you’re half straddling him, and he watches with lust-blown pupils.
As much as he hates this cycle, he loves it just the same. You’ll manipulate him and he’ll let you because that's how much power you have over him.
You slowly crawl up his body, dragging your hands across his twitching muscles until your fingers are laced over his head, and lower your hips until you’re sitting on his bulge.
“Do you want me to stop?” You ask, your lips brushing against his throat.
“No.”
You slowly push forward and brush your chest against his face, sitting up when he tries to nip at the skin. You guide his hands against your hips and shift slightly, eliciting a deep groan.
“Show me how to please you.” You whisper, and something in Rafe snaps. He doesn't care about the party downstairs, he doesn't care that he's giving in to you again; all he cares about is claiming you in a way that shows you he’s capable of taking the control back at any second.
Before you can process, he flips you onto your back and rips your panties in half. You gasp with wide eyes, and Rafe slips his hand behind you. You arch your back so he can unhook your bra while his other hand dips into your folds.
He sucks a hickey into the top of your breast while his nimble fingers slip your bra off with ease, and he licks a strip from the dark bruise to the column of your throat. He keeps his head buried there working on the tender flesh while pumping his fingers in and out of your slick.
You buck up when he curls into your g-spot, and he repeats the movement while gasps fall from your lips.
“I know, baby. I got you.”
He presses one last kiss to your collarbone before trailing his lips and nose all the way down your torso. He wastes no time, and you cry out when his lips wrap around your clit. His free hand settles on the inside of your upper thigh, holding it open.
He hits a spot that causes you to pull away from him, and a sharp slap rings out before he wraps his hand around the back of your leg and yanks you back into him. He moves with your body as you writhe around, and continues his brutal pace.
He has you approaching that high in record time and reaches up to lace his fingers with yours as your head flings back while you tremble against him. He carries you through it the entire time, not even flinching when your nails draw blood or when his signet ring digs into his finger.
As soon as your vision clears, you sit up and start ripping at the buttons on his tux. He smirks at how eager you are and watches the way you try to cover it up. Regardless of what he is to you, no man will ever have you the way he has and you know that.
His lips crash against yours while you fiddle with his tie, and he quickly removes his belt and pants before leaning forward until you're flat against the bed. He gently moves your hands away and takes over, taking off the layers of clothing the best he can without breaking the kiss.
The second you feel the heat from his body, your hands roam his exposed flesh. His large hand grabs the back of your knee and hikes your leg around his waist, and you nod into him. He wraps his hand around his cock and pumps a few times, hissing at the sensation.
He breaks away and presses his forehead to yours before tilting his head down to watch where he presses into you. You both inhale sharply, and you cling to him for dear life as he eases In until his pelvis hits yours.
He rolls his hips, hitting that sweet spot while also brushing against your swollen bundle of nerves. It's a torturously slow pace as he fucks into you deep and slow, and your sweat mingles as your bodies start to fall into a natural rhythm.
You push forward when he pulls back, and he litters bites and licks across your neck. Your sweet moans mix with his deep grunts and occasional whimpers to make a hymn as you worship each other.
“Fuck, you feel too good.” He groans, and you whine into his shoulder.
“You always think you're this little minx that can get whatever she wants. I let you because I want you to be happy. Sometimes you just have to be reminded that you’re not the apex predator you think you are. Not with me.”
His hand wraps around your throat and squeezes lightly, and you grin at the feeling. You can say whatever you want, but Rafe knows you would never let another man have this level of control let alone smile at it. It's those little things that keep a spark of hope alive; moments where he sees you want him as much as he wants you.
He forces your mouth apart with his tongue before devouring you like a man starved. Your skin burns hot as the two of you tangle in the sheets, too lost in each other to care about anything else.
You leverage your weight and flip over, slipping back onto his pulsing cock before he can protest. His head falls back with a strangled groan as he reaches a new depth, and his hands instantly settle on your waist.
You rock back and forth a few times, testing the water before settling in. You note every little gasp and nose scrunch, making sure to make those movements again.
His fingertips dig into the flesh on your hips as he guides you and you watch him through hooded eyes as he attempts to maintain some semblance of composure.
The two of you writhe in unison as you chase your highs, beads of sweat glistening like diamonds as they trickle down your bodies and mingle together.
“Fuck, I love you.”
Rafe is barely within his right mind, but the statement still sends a paralyzing shiver down your spine. For the first time, you feel a tinge of remorse and it causes your movements to stutter.
You recover quickly and continue until you feel him twitch and ride him through his high. Your mind is racing at light speed as you quickly climb off and start dressing, eager to get away.
Suddenly the room feels suffocating as Rafe’s cologne engulfs your senses and you keep your eyes cast downward. You don’t want to see the lacrosse trophies or the framed family photos; reminders that outside of your arrangement, Rafe is a real person with a real life.
“Whoah hold up, slow down.”
Rafe’s voice is laced with confusion as he comes back down and notices you all but sprinting around the room.
His large hands wrap around your biceps in an attempt to stop you, and your heart lurches when you spare a glance at his cerulean eyes.
“You’re not staying?”
Admittedly, you’ve gotten a smidge too comfortable and it’s become somewhat of a routine for you to stay over and leave when the sun comes up.
When you don’t answer and instead try to side step him, his brow furrows and he matches your movement so you’re blocked. His hand comes up to pinch your chin between this thumb and forefinger, and you try to ignore the way your skin tingles.
“Look at me. What’s going on?”
It occurs to you that he isn’t aware of what he said, and you swallow before taking a deep breath and holding your head high.
“I think you’re right. We shouldn’t do this anymore.”
His hand drops in shock, and before he can react you slink around him and race downstairs straight out the door.
Rafe stands in place for a second trying to process what just happened. He yanks on some sweatpants and goes bounding after you, but by the time he makes it outside, you’re already gone.
He runs his hand over his head before taking off back toward his room. He ignores the odd looks he receives from Gala guests roaming the property and continues on his mission until he’s back upstairs holding his phone.
It’s muscle memory at this point, finding you in his favorites comes with ease and it only takes a second for his thumb to press the number that he’s committed to heart.
His heart thumps in his chest as it rings once, then twice.
The number you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please hang up and try again.
He hangs up and calls back three more times only to receive the same dreaded message each time before he lobs his phone across the room and looks up at the ceiling.
“Fuck!”
574 notes · View notes
antxlss · 1 year
Note
can you do #2 w rafe maybe like y/n or reader is secretly fw rafe but he wants more and is obsessed with her and so possessive & gets jealous when she’s w other guys/pouges so he claims her 😖😖😻🧎🏼‍♀️
she’s mine
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pairing: rafe x pogue!reader
summary: *see above*
warnings: suggestive comments
words: 1.1k
a/n: i love this idea, it’s so fun to write everyone’s requests. i hope you like what i came up with! it’s not exact, but i think y’all will like it. as always, thank you for reading! if you have any requests, please do not hesitate to reach out! i love you, enjoy! <3
-—————————⋆。‧˚ʚɞ˚‧。⋆—————————-
it was a warm friday night. you had been out all day fishing in the marsh with kie, john b, jj, and pope. you guys were starving since you hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so everyone - mostly jj - convinced kie to take us to her family’s restaurant and get us some scrap food.
we are currently sitting at a table in the corner of the restaurant, out of the way of all the real customers. it was a pretty slow night, only a couple of groups occupied a few tables a little further from ours. scattered people coming in and out.
kie comes through balancing plates along her arms. the boys were practically panting as they gawked at the the piping hot dishes. we consider it a luxury when we get to eat at the wreck. it easily tops the grilled cheese and instant ramen us pogues are used to.
kie gently sat down each plate in front of us. “guys, be careful, it’s ho-” she tried to explain.
before she could even finish her sentence we had already stuffed our mouths full. as soon as the scalding hot food touched my mouth, i spit it right back out. immediately i started fanning my tongue. i look over to see the boys doing similar gestures.
“i tried to tell you.” kie stated smugly.
i went back to my food making sure to blow on each bite before i ate it.
not even 10 minutes went by and we had already cleaned the plates. literally. pope, john b, and jj started licking their plates.
“stop you dumbasses. act like we have some goddamn decency.” i scolded.
pope looked over at me quickly dropping his plate. “sorry.” he muttered.
they all straightened up.
“thanks again kie!” i added.
“always. gotta keep my favorite people fed.” she gave me a quick side hug and started picking up plates to take back to the kitchen. i grabbed a few, helping her out. i walked them to the dish room and sat them in the sink.
“hey i’m gonna finish the dishes them i’ll be out.” kie remarked.
“okay, i’m gonna head to the bathroom.”
i walked out of the kitchen and into the dining area, when i saw him walk in. there he was.
rafe cameron.
behind him came his two best friends, topper and kelce. i don’t know why i was surprised, they are here all the time. i guess it’s just different seeing him here now. since we’ve been hooking up.
yeah. me and rafe cameron are hooking up. it’s obviously a secret. if one of the pogues were to find out, i’d be killed. or worse.
like all good relationships begin, we met at a kegger at the beginning of summer. i knew it was wrong. maybe that’s why i did it. for an adrenaline rush, for the thrill? but god was he they best sex i’ve ever had. the only down side is how obsessive he is over me. especially who i hang out with.
rafe has told me multiple times how he doesn’t like me hanging out with the pogues. how they are bad for me. how i would be better off with him. he doesn’t want me to talk to anyone other than him. and we aren’t even official. he’s very obsessive.
i take a deep breath and head to the bathroom. i have to slip past rafe to get there, but at this point i’m just praying he doesn’t talk to me. i can’t risk the pogues finding out about us.
just when i thought i’d gotten past him, i feel a strong hand tightly grip my bicep. it was rafe. he pulled me into the hallway going to the bathrooms. he guided me in front of him, but kept his grip on me as we talked.
“hey, what are you doing here?” rafe asked.
“eating. duh? it’s a restaurant, that’s what you do at a restaurant.” i replied sarcastically.
he pulled me closer to him, dropping his mouth to my ear. “i didn’t ask for that bratty attitude. drop it.” he demanded.
my eyes dropped to my feet. “sorry.” i muttered.
“that’s what i thought.” he smirked. “who are you here with?”
my breath hitched in my throat. i already knew what he would say if i told him the truth. “i’m by myself.” i answered, my eyes still staring at the ground.
“don’t you fucking lie to me.” he growled. “you’re here with those pogues aren’t you.”
i turned my head away from him. i couldn’t take the pressure. he suddenly, yet gently gripped my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes.
“i thought i told you to stay away from them.” his eyes were piercing through mine.
“but they’re my friends.” i complained.
“i’m more important than them sweetheart. you’ll learn that soon enough.” he patted my cheek then let go of his grip on me. “now go back to your table.”
i turned around and started walking back to the group. i had a nervous feeling in my stomach. i knew rafe was possessive, but i thought we were just a hook up. i guess he has different plans.
i sat down in the seat i had occupied before. just as i sat down kie made her way back to the table. the rest of the night we just talked and joked around, but i never to my attention off of rafe. i watched as they ordered, as they got their food, as they ate, and finally, as they got their check. once the trio had successfully paid, rafe sent topper and kelce out as he stayed behind. what the hell was he doing.
he was walking towards our table. holy shit.
it wasn’t long before the others caught rafe in their peripheral and started questioning the same thing i was. “why is he coming over here?”
it felt like hours before he reached our table. he stood directly in front of me. his eyes never left mine as he reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a piece of black fabric. he gently tossed it into the table. i finally got a good view of it.
“you left your panties at my house.” he stated with a straight face.
then, i realized what the black fabric was. the black lacy thong i had worn last time i went to rafe’s. i had been missing it, but i figured i just lost in on my way home. my jaw dropped. my face was blood red. i could feel the heat on my cheeks. i couldn’t even make myself look at my friend’s reactions.
“she’s mine.” rafe stepped back and i watched him walk out of the restaurant.
john b looked around the table. “what. the. fuck. just happened?”
2K notes · View notes
heliads · 1 year
Text
You Agreed to This
Pierre Gasly has a reputation for flirting with anything that breathes. You have a reputation for being scarily focused on racing. When Charles, Lando, and Esteban get it into their heads to dare Pierre to get you to fall in love with him, the results can only be tragic.
a/n: i was frustrated when i couldn't find fics with this vague plotline like two months ago and then i remembered that i can simply make them myself. anyway this is my longest fic to date (6k+ words), enjoy!
masterlist
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The whole affair started in the recesses of the Alpine motorhome, too far from prying eyes and chances to stop before it got bad. Miami is boiling hot as per usual, it gets to Pierre just like it always does. He’s trying to fend off the heat by hiding somewhere deep within his team’s complex, team jacket stripped off somewhere on a nearby sofa and fans cranked on high. 
It was just Pierre at the beginning, but drivers tend to flock together in times of heat related stress, and now there are four of them sprawled across floors and furniture in an attempt to alleviate their suffering. Charles found Pierre first, just like he usually does, then Lando followed after media duties were over, and Esteban was last, claiming that if this many rival drivers were there he had a right to die in his own motorhome too, god damn it.
Pierre has mixed thoughts on that. He has mixed thoughts on quite a lot, actually– the blistering temperatures are getting to him, swirling memories into fact into fiction. He’ll get his head in order when it comes time to race, but that won’t happen until tomorrow, once qualis are in order and they’ve all been shunted around for the grid lineup.
Across the room, Lando groans from the shadows of a functionally decorated armchair. “This is miserable.”
Pierre gives him a look. “Your complaining is miserable.” 
Undeterred, Lando keeps up his protests. “We should do something fun. Pierre, don’t you know like a thousand people here? Invite someone over.”
Pierre snorts. “I don’t know all of Miami, Lando. Go to sleep or something.”
Esteban chuckles. “Could have fooled me. Didn’t you tag, like, a hundred people in your latest Instagram story?”
Pierre turns his head to glare at his teammate. They’re still supposed to be friends as of three or so months of being racing partners, but apparently that association doesn’t go so far as requiring Esteban to defend him. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”
Charles shakes his head, grinning. “It’s the truth, let him speak. You have connections.”
Lando flings a dramatic arm over his eyes to block out the sunlight pouring in through the windows. They’ve all been shut with the blinds pulled down, of course, but some warmth has a way of coming in regardless of what anyone wants. “Pierre’s just sociable like that. He could win over anybody. Or flirt with anybody.”
Pierre rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Norris.”
Charles arches a brow. “What would he be jealous of, your losing streak? I saw you strike out trying to talk up Margot Robbie last time we were in Monaco, don’t lie to me.”
“That was different,” Pierre protests, “she’se literally married, what did you expect?”
Charles coughs pointedly. “Yet you flirted with her anyway. Anyways, don’t argue. You can’t flirt with everybody. Not successfully, at least.”
Pierre leans forward cautiously. “What does that mean?”
Charles laughs. “There’s one person you could never charm in a thousand years.”
Pierre sighs, answers Charles’ unspoken question in time with his friend. “Y/N L/N?”
“Y/N L/N,” Charles confirms, and the other three drivers break into identical grins.
Pierre can accept defeat on that front. Y/N L/N is the only female driver on the grid at the moment, and anyone can tell why she made it despite the odds mere moments after meeting her. She’s crazy intense, more dedicated to racing than even Max or Lewis. Pierre wouldn’t be surprised if she could win a driver’s championship in the next year or two. Talk to her once and you’ll be stunned that she hasn’t done it yet.
Every time Pierre, or any other driver or spectator for that matter, has tried to chat her up, they always end up shut down faster than you can spin out on a slick track with the wrong tires. She doesn’t have time for any of them. The girl lives and breathes and dies for racing, she’s not going to let something like a boy get in her way.
This only makes Pierre more tempted to keep up with her, of course, but he learned a long time ago that was a lost cause. The only reason Y/N would ever look twice at him is if he was a place ahead of her during a race, and given her knack for overtakes, that doesn’t happen all that often.
Lando sits forward, and Pierre decides that he doesn’t like the gleam in the younger boy’s eyes. “Say, I’ve got a great idea to stave off boredom. Pierre, go date Y/N.”
Pierre almost chokes. “Are you insane? Just like that, go date her? How would that help you in any way?”
Lando spreads his hands. “If it would be so easy for you to flirt with anybody, how about you prove it? Surely Y/N isn’t so far out of your league. You’re both in the same line of work, at least you’ve got that going for you.”
Pierre opens his mouth to fight this. He may have a bit of a cocky streak, sure, but he’s a driver, who amongst them doesn’t? Just as he starts to get himself out of this, though, Esteban speaks up instead.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Pierre couldn’t even come close. None of us can.” Esteban says it like a fact, and that’s all it takes for Pierre to change his tune.
“You know what?” He says, feeling his adrenaline start to kick in, “Sure I can.”
Charles’ eyes widen. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m always serious about girls,” Pierre says, causing a ripple of groans to cascade around the room, “This time I am, at least. I’ll win her over, no problem.”
Lando sits up. “If you’re really doing this, we’ve got to set some rules.”
“Such as?” Pierre dares him to continue.
Charles taps a thoughtful hand on his leg. “It has to be more than a one time thing. Just a single conversation could be a fluke or her feeling bad for you.”
Outraged, Pierre starts to fight that, but Lando picks up the thread of the conversation before he can cut it short. “That makes sense. We have to be sure that she’s actually in love with you. Like, get her to kiss you or something? And pics or it didn’t happen. We need proof.”
Pierre snickers, trying not to feel like control is slipping out of his hands with each passing second. “Anything else? Want me to name our firstborn child after you?”
That makes Esteban crack up. “That’s a little extreme, don’t you think? We’ll settle for being named godfather. All three of us collectively.”
Pierre shakes his head incredulously. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Charles slaps him on the back. “You have to believe in yourself, Pierre. If you don’t, she’ll never fall for it.”
And so Pierre Gasly gets himself stuck in the con of a lifetime. Is it going to work? The odds are abysmal. Will he make it, though? Well, Pierre never likes to back down from a challenge. He’s not going to let this one get away from him so easily.
The sun is bright and the morning is tense in the paddock. You arrived early, earlier than most of the drivers, all so you could get a taste of what the track was like without anyone breathing down your neck. Some would call you a little too eager, others would say you’re plain stressed out and nothing more to it.
You’d give yourself a little more credit than that, though. You know exactly who you are and what you have to prove. The more time you give yourself to plan and acclimate, the less time there is for mistakes.
That isn’t to say that you ignore all the comments on your pre-race habits. You are well aware of your reputation, even proud of it. You wear it as a second skin, a racing suit, a livery specially designed to flaunt your own achievement. The whispers of those out and about in the world of motorsport follow you wherever you go, dogging your footsteps until you half expect to leave streams of words behind you instead of burned rubber.
That’s Y/N L/N. The one who only cares about the track? The one who lives and dies for racing? That’s the one. That’s the one.
There’s not much else to it. So what if you tend to be a little more intense than most? Being serious is the only method of survival available to you. You can be sweet and fun, play yourself off as the ditzy girl who only got in so her team could capitalize on brand deals, or you can be a woman without a feminine bone in her body, so far from girlish she chokes whenever she sees the color pink. Both are awful alternatives, so you choose the only one you can:  ignore every box they try to push you in until everyone else gives up. Let them whisper. At least they aren’t trying to change you anymore.
That’s how you’ve navigated the paddock up until now, the entirety of racing life as you know it. It’s worked out in your favor, or so you’d say, at least. You push yourself on and off track. You answer the unfair questions they throw at you. You solve the mysteries of why someone is taking an involvement in your affairs and come out on top of any possible rumors.
There are mysteries, though, and then there’s the latest one, which is why on Earth Pierre Gasly has taken to following you around the paddock. They all did, at the start; the drivers, the fans, the interviewers, even the team bosses, all staring at you like you were in a circus exhibition. A girl in motorsport? Couldn’t be. Yet it is. 
That’s mostly drifted off, though, the attention gone once they realized you weren’t interested in belonging to any of them. Most of them did it unintentionally, of course, and the few who got too close on purpose quickly learned they would get nothing from you. Pierre learned that himself, or so you thought. That doesn’t stop his attention from surging up again all of a sudden.
It’s been a solid few weeks of this behavior, and you’re still no closer to understanding it than you were at the start. If you were to put an initial date on this whole affair, you’d maybe say everything began back in Miami. All of a sudden, Pierre, who up until now had accepted that you weren’t interested in him even if he didn’t like that all too much, had decided to renew his affections once more. 
Where you had been content to walk briskly through the paddock by yourself, Pierre is suddenly a few feet behind you, always ready to offer a bottle of water when you need it or issue a joking comment when you seem in need of a laugh. He’s playing his cards carefully, always disappearing the moment you start to take his presence for granted, but why, you cannot tell. Everyone here has a motive. Surely Pierre Gasly has one as well.
You weren’t willing to trust him at first, ignoring him throughout the Miami race and all sessions at Imola. The only angle worth your while is your own, and maybe your constructor’s, too. Still, he stayed. That has to count for something.
And, when the end of a race finds you absolutely desolate after an engine failure, that starts to count a little more than it would have before. This race is early enough in the year that the DNF doesn’t have to sting too much, but all you can think about is how you just gave Max, Charles, and the rest of the title competitors the leg up they need to beat you out.
It’s not a good feeling, to say the least. You find some empty corner of the paddock where you can be alone and let your emptiness consume you. That was your plan, at least, but you’ve only been able to wallow in your own misery for about ten minutes or so before someone else joins you. The only other driver to fail to complete the necessary laps:  Pierre.
Pierre may not have had engine problems like you, but that doesn’t make him any luckier. George Russell spun wide on a turn and took out Pierre before righting himself again. George got off relatively easy for a crash, only needed to swap out some tires and his front wing, but Pierre took the brunt of it and ended up in the barriers. You heard him swearing, frustrated, on the radio after the race; the commentators loved that one, even if he didn’t.
That leaves both of you in the same undesirable position. Pierre arches a brow as he takes in the sight of you:  legs pulled up to your chest where you sit slumped against the wall, expression hopeless and all ambition gone for the moment.
“Mind if I join you?” He asks, “I’m trying to hide from Sky Sports.”
You gesture vaguely at the open floor next to you. “Feel free. I'm not too thrilled about hearing from them, either.”
Pierre collapses in an untidy heap of limbs by your side, pulling at the collar of his race suit so he can unzip it down to his waist, leaving only the long sleeved shirt clinging to his skin. “At least engine failure is something you can’t control. Everyone’s been all over me trying to get me to admit that I should have seen George coming.”
You wrinkle your brow. “That wasn’t your fault. He braked late, it was obvious.”
Pierre glances over at you, clearly fighting a laugh. “Obvious, huh?”
You look away, wondering why you feel embarrassed all of a sudden. You don’t lie when it comes to racing, why bother? Thanks to the vast supplies of driver cameras and radio clips, there’s no point in glossing over what everyone knows to be true. Still, Pierre has a way of making that feel like something you should think twice about, like maybe not all of your attitudes towards drivers and their habits are things you should speak freely on. Maybe some things can be kept just to yourself. Maybe some drivers are beginning to verge beyond mere functionality as competitors.
“Everyone saw it,” you justify, “bad timing, that’s all. Not something you could control no matter how much space you gave him.”
Pierre nods solemnly. “The engine wasn’t your fault either, by the way. There was nothing you could have done to make it work again. You can’t limp through a problem like that.”
You tilt your head back, staring up at the ceiling above you. “I tried, though.”
“I know,” Pierre says. They’re only two words, but for some reason they make you feel better than any of the minutes spent listening to your engineers’ speeches on how they would fix that issue by the next race.
Judging by the slight smile on Pierre’s face, he must know that too. When the seconds stretch into minutes and you never tell Pierre to go, that smile only deepens. The conversation leaves the race eventually, and you end up talking about silly things like movies you’d like to see or places you want to go but never have. You don’t know that you’ve ever spoken to another driver like this before. You don’t know that you could with anyone else.
You have to leave that corner eventually, called away by a team principal with apologies in order. Pierre departs around the same time, claiming that he can’t run from the interviewers forever. You steal one last glance at him over your shoulder as you go, and can’t help but notice the grin on his face. It’s broader than before, proud of something; what, you can’t tell. Despite the fact that both of you have failed out of the race, you still get the feeling that Pierre has won at something more than you today. 
Charles releases an Instagram post later that day of him, Pierre, and a few other drivers out at a club. You see it, and spend too much time wondering how long you have to wait after a photo is posted to like it so it’s not weird. What you don’t see is the conversation that happened later, how Pierre triumphantly told the rest that he was closer than they’d ever believe. You don’t see it, and the next time you see him, you stop to talk with a ready smile.
So it goes the next race, and the next one, and the next. Pierre is there. So are you. You end up finding him eventually; as time goes on, it’s not just Pierre seeking you out but the other way around, too. It’s even, both of you wanting each other just as often as the other. Eventually, you have to admit defeat to the voice in the back of your head telling you that you might have misread Pierre after all. Maybe he’s not just a horrific flirt. Maybe he can be a friend.
And, leaning over the railing of Pierre’s room in the Alpine motorhome so you can feel the gentle wind on your face while you stare out at the paddock, you think you would be alright if there was something more, too. You swore to yourself you’d never even think about another driver in that way, too scared of all your efforts to distinguish yourself from everyone’s expectations for female drivers being for naught, but it might be okay if it was Pierre. Pierre is different, nothing like the rest. It would be alright if it was him.
Pierre stands by your side, back straight and posture perfect as he surveys the mess of people milling about some floors below. “Nervous for the race?”
You tilt your head to the side, considering the question. “As much as anyone, I guess. I like this track, though. Should be good.”
Pierre nods, smiling at that. “And what about me? Am I going to be good, too?”
You roll your eyes. “You don’t need me to tell you that.” 
He doesn’t; this is one of Pierre’s best tracks. He should be up for a podium or at least high in the points if everything goes according to plan.
He just grins. “Indulge me.”
You give him a pointed stare, then head back into the room. “You’re an ass.”
Pierre follows. “You love me, though.”
A pause. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” He asks, unable to disguise a slight shine of surprise from entering his eyes, like despite all the luck he’d had recently, Pierre still didn’t think he would get this far.
You lift your shoulder in a half-shrug, unwilling to commit to anything further. You feel as if you’re standing on a lake frozen over, aware that any wrong move could shatter the ice beneath your feet.
Pierre moves towards the door, and for one horrified moment you think he’s actually going to leave right then and there before you realize he’s closing it instead. He turns back once he’s sure no passersby can see you, and then he’s kissing you and you can’t worry about anything else. Not even the race. Not even the threat that this might send you spiraling until you’re so lost on him that you won’t be able to think straight for the rest of your life.
He leans back at last, smiling at you with the same smile you think you saw on a podium on Monza when he first won a race in F1. “We could have done that earlier,” he whispers, not daring to disturb the quiet victory of the room.
“We could have,” you answer him. Every driver hates losing time. This is no exception.
Your head is light with the most wonderful feeling, and then over Pierre’s shoulder you see something strange. He left the door open. Cracked halfway, even though this door is notorious for never staying open right. He would have had to try to keep it like this. He would have wanted it to be that way for a reason.
Pierre’s phone vibrates and he grimaces, murmuring something about having to talk to one of his engineers before slipping out of the room. He kisses you one last time before he leaves, a quiet touch pressed to your cheek. He takes great care to ensure that you do not see the message blinking up from his screen, and when he goes, you notice that he does not have to turn the knob, only pull open an already ajar door.
Something is wrong. The longer you stand there, alone in Pierre’s room, the more you start to think, and what you think about is not good at all. The timing of the text message. The look on his face when he left. Nothing is adding up.
Voices drift to you down the hall as you stand there wondering, Pierre’s among them. You walk slowly forward, unable to fight a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach like something is about to go very, very poorly. You usually trust your instincts. As it turns out, they won’t be wrong now.
Pierre is standing in a meeting room down the hall, talking in hushed voices to a few other drivers. As you draw closer, you recognize them. Charles, closest; Lando, eyes wide; Esteban, even, staring in disbelief. All three are telling Pierre replications of the same sentiment, which is that they cannot believe he actually managed to do it.
Get you to fall in love with him, they mean. Fulfill the dare, they explain. Like they all agreed a few months ago. Back in Miami, the three of them dared Pierre to get you to fall for him, and like the overconfident, thrill seeking diehard flirt that he is, Pierre agreed.
Worse:  he did it successfully. You know, you had been wondering if this was too good to be true. Looks like it was. All that time you were letting Pierre into your heart, and he was manipulating you into falling in love. How pathetic. How incredibly soul-destroying.
The four drivers look up when you shut the door to the meeting room behind you. Pierre is the first one to notice it’s you, and you don’t ever think you’ll forget the look on his face when he realizes that you know the truth. His entire expression contorts with horror and his hands rise by his sides, trying to force your heart to stay unbroken. Pity it’s too late for that.
“Y/N–” he begins, a little too loud, a little too desperate, “wait– it’s not what it sounds like–”
“Actually,” you say coolly, “I believe that it is. You three dared Pierre to get me to fall in love with him? That’s exactly what it is, right?”
It’s not a question. Charles, Lando, and Esteban have realized you’re here, too, and they wear similar shades of Pierre’s alarm. Charles opens his mouth to say something, perhaps to explain himself, but you cut him off.
“Don’t even try. I know what you did, I don’t want to hear your terrible reasoning for why you thought this was okay. I’m going to go back to my motorhome and we are never going to speak of this again. Don’t talk to me in the paddock. Don’t talk to me at all unless we’re in a media event and you have to. I never want to speak to any of you.”
Lando interrupts, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Y/N, don’t you think that’s a little extreme? It was just a prank, that’s all. Just a laugh.”
Pierre looks like he’s fighting back deep irritation at that. You just arch one brow. “Just a prank to humiliate me? You disgust me. All of you.”
You let that silence their arguments and leave the room. You think Pierre might have tried to follow you out, but Charles blocks him. You hear the Monegasque’s voice spilling out into the hall as you leave, telling Pierre not to try it. She obviously doesn’t want to see any of us anymore, mate. Best to leave it be.
You wish it was that easy for you. It takes everything in you to make it to your private room in your team’s motorhome and lock the door behind you before the tears finally come flooding out. You’d like nothing more than to fly home and spend the next several days and nights comatose in your bed, but, as if things weren’t bad as is, there’s still a race tomorrow, so you won’t be able to go anywhere for at least twenty-four hours.
The lights go out, the chequered flag waves some time later. You’re not entirely aware of what happened in that race, nor of how you were able to drag yourself out of your room and back to the starting grid, but you blink once and you’re on the podium, so evidently everything worked out. You watch the clips later, the commentators are all in shock. They haven’t seen you race so aggressively in years. It bordered on cruelty.
Pierre, by contrast, had his worst race in months. It seemed like he was hardly in charge at all, more like the car was controlling him. He wasn’t even in the points. No one can understand it. You refuse to think about it any longer.
Another race weekend comes and goes. The interviewers are confused– wasn’t it just last week that you seemed so much happier than you are now? You’re surly in press conferences, answering questions in a clipped and emotionless tone. They’d say you were totally checked out were it not for the fact that you’re still getting good results.
They don’t know everything, of course, but some of the more eagle-eyed reporters are starting to put the pieces together. What’s up with you and Pierre Gasly? Someone asks one day, Weren’t you two good friends recently?
We’re drivers, you reply, Aren’t we all used to pretending things are better than they are?
When you see Pierre after that press conference, he looks dizzy, totally unsteady on his own feet. You don’t meet his eyes. You’re not sure that it’s guilt, but it feels something like that anyway. Everything is wrong.
Pierre is asked about it later, of course, and he’s a little more candid than you were. He never names names, just says that things happen sometimes, things he wishes he could take back. Pierre has to take a moment to get himself together after that to answer the next question, a fantastic display of emotion. How charming of him to wear his heart on his sleeve when he’s just ripped yours out of your chest.
The pattern repeats the next few weeks. Pierre, Charles, Lando, and Esteban try to talk to you on multiple occasions, but you brush them off with nothing more than a well-placed glare and some good avoidance tactics. Even then, you should have known that your cold shoulder couldn’t last forever.
Of course it would be Charles who gets you at last– if there’s anyone on this entire damned grid who could get why you are the way you are, it would be him. Il Predestinato knows what it’s like to have the entire world expecting something of you, and he doesn’t lie easy because of it. Charles finds you late as the sun is setting and won’t let you avoid him forever, even though you try.
At last, you give up and stop making him chase you around the paddock. You’re sitting at a table outside your motorhome, shaded by a sunbleached umbrella and sipping at a bottle of ice water long since turned lukewarm.
“He regrets it, you know,” Charles says by way of introduction.
You refuse to raise your eyes from your intense study of the bottle’s printed plastic label. “He’s going to have to do a lot better than sending his best friend to talk for him, then.”
Charles scoffs. “Oh, come on. You know you haven’t let him get close enough for that.”
Your water bottle receives a very irate glare. “Wonder why that would be.”
Charles sighs. “We were wrong, we all know that. It was a stupid thing to suggest and even more stupid to keep it up that long.”
You look at him at last, anger gone and replaced by mere disappointment. From the way Charles shifts in his seat opposite you, you think that might be an even worse threat for him to face. “Then why did you keep it going? If you knew it was so wrong? Pierre was committed to your prank for weeks. Why didn’t any of you call it quits?”
“He didn’t want to,” Charles admits, “not because of the dare, because he liked being around you. Did you know he was mad at us the day you caught us? He didn’t want us anywhere near that room. Told me privately it’s because he wanted the first kiss for himself, not for anything related to the dare.”
That makes you go silent. The fan whirs overhead, pushing your thoughts around in slow circles somewhere above you. “That makes no sense.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” Charles grumbles, “Happened, though. Regardless of what he thought at the start, Pierre doesn’t want to hurt you. Not anymore.”
You turn towards him. “Is that supposed to make how he felt at the start okay somehow?”
Charles shakes his head. “No, but it makes the ending better, I think.”
He’s right. You lean back against your seat, contemplative. Charles takes this as his cue to leave. He pauses once before he’s out of range, then calls something else back to you. “He’ll kill me if he finds out I told you that, by the way.”
You can’t fight a laugh. “I won’t tell a soul you’re on my side.”
He smiles at that. You’ve missed him, you realize, him and the rest. You thought distance would save you from feeling quite so badly about all of this, but it just cut you off from your best support. Charles disappears into the crowd, a bright flare of red in a multitude of shifting shades, and for the first time since that treacherous discovery, you start to wonder what it would feel like to forgive.
Pierre is in an awful state. So Esteban has told him about a thousand and one times, at least, each utterance delivered with the same derisive snort. Pierre knows he’s supposed to bounce back from this, pretend it was all just a prank, but he’s known better for months now. It might have been a prank the first day, even the first week, but not after that.
Here is the problem:  Pierre, in all his cocky eagerness to show his friends up, failed to consider that Y/N might be able to charm him as well. He might have gone a little overboard in his attempts to make her fall in love with him, perhaps even to the point where he fell in love instead. He isn’t sure when he first realized he had feelings for her, but Pierre is more than certain it was before Y/N discovered she felt the same way.
What a ruin to his reputation. Pierre hadn’t minded, though, not when they were still on speaking terms. He liked the way they could talk for hours, how Y/N’s guard slipped when she started to trust him. She had a way of smiling when she was sure no one was about to stab her in the back. Pierre misses that. He’s sure he’ll never see it again.
Unable to stand Esteban’s dismissive attitude anymore, Pierre picks himself up from where he’d been wallowing in misery on the floor of the Alpine motorhome. He doesn’t know where he’s going yet, only that it needs to be somewhere without a single soul in sight. Still, when he passes aimlessly through the halls and almost runs into another driver, he supposes he should take it as a testament to his distracted mind that he doesn’t realize it’s Y/N until they’re already standing still and staring at each other.
Too late, Pierre remembers she hates him. His eyes drop to the floor and he mumbles an apology, ready to keep moving. She told him not to speak to her anymore; Pierre can hardly fault her for that, and he won’t use his presence as a weapon if that’s the one that will cut her the deepest.
He is surprised, then, when Y/N reaches out to stop him before he can get too much farther. Pierre looks at her hand locked around his, then back up at her.
“Wait,” she says, “I want to talk to you.”
“I thought that wasn’t happening anymore,” Pierre says. It occurs to him that it probably sounds cold, but she speaks before he can try to explain what he meant.
“Things have changed,” she says.
That’s enough to convince him to stay, if not for the feeling of her fingers still on his than anything else. He doesn’t miss the way her gaze keeps flitting from him to the occasional Alpine aide walking down the halls, and to save her, Pierre jerks his head towards a door down the hall.
“There’s an empty room to the left, we can talk there.”
A brief flash of relief crosses her face, and Y/N lets Pierre lead her over to the room. He leaves the door open to give her an easy escape, but she closes it after her anyway. No onlookers. Maybe that’s for the best.
Y/N sits down in one of the chairs, legs crossed, arms folded. She may be here with him after so long, but that doesn’t stop her from throwing up all her walls, even the physical ones. It hurts to remember how easy it had been to be with her that last day. Pierre plays those moments on repeat in his head– the balcony, the breeze, the words, the kiss. He can never stop the later scene from following, how her demeanor had changed when she realized the truth. He didn’t think he could hurt one person that badly. He was wrong.
She’s still silent, so Pierre assumes it’s on him to start talking. “I’m sorry,” he begins, “I know that’s not enough, but it’s true. I was stupid. I should have told you before–”
Regret clogs up his throat and he can’t choke out a single syllable more. Y/N looks suspicious. “Before the kiss?”
“Before anything,” Pierre clarifies, “when we were talking at the beginning. I never should have let it get so far. Doesn’t mean I minded when it did,” he remarks half to himself, “but I should have done it on my own terms.”
When he dares look up at Y/N again, he swears she seems slightly more open, but that could just be his wishful thinking. “Do you mean what you said in the interview?” She asks suddenly, “Do you wish you could take it back?”
“Yes,” Pierre says in a rush, “I want a do over. I want to do it right. I would have done all of it without ever talking to Lando or Esteban or Charles first. I would have done it for me.” His voice is quiet. “I would have loved you without making it a lie.”
Y/N’s eyes are wide, but she isn’t afraid or angry. “Second chances come around more often than you’d think,” she whispers.
“Even for me?” Pierre asks.
She nods once. “Even for you.”
They’re both on the podium that day. His race engineers can’t explain why Pierre’s luck has suddenly had this tremendous turnaround. He can. She can, too. Sometimes your heart likes getting in the way if it knows you’re doing something wrong. It’s a good thing, then, that he’s finally doing something right.
She’s waiting for him once the interviews are over. They’re both exhausted, half drunk on the champagne in the air and wholly pleased with themselves. The sun goes down, and Pierre is happy. It is just as easy as that.
f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy
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gojoxxluv · 6 months
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Soft dom!Yandere!Rich bf!Suguru who slides a big fat diamond ring on your finger while fucking your brains out claiming you as his “fianceé”
warnings: fem bodied reader, riding, praise kink, slight possessivness, hinting at missionary, clit stimulation/rubbing, squirting, unprotected sex (wrap and enjoy!) ⁉️ MINORS DNI⁉️
a/n: it’s been a long while since I wrote a smut this long, this might be lacking since english is not my first language. Reblogs and feedback is appreciated, have a lovely read and take care of yourselves because you are important and valued.
“You like it?? You like it when I fuck you like this??.” Your silk dress is all hiked up, mascara running down your face, panties tugged to the side currently bouncing on Suguru’s cock as he sits up with his back touching the headboard supporting you. Your teeth sank in Suguru’s shoulders at the roughness. “Quite a feisty one aren’t you?” He chuckles as he snaps his hips making your back arch scrumptiously, his hands guide your hips to move his shaft in and out of you. “Do you like it when people stare at you? Hmm? Do you like it when men stare at you with their filthy gazes??? Answer me Darling~” Suguru’s cock drilled in and out of you stretching your cunt deliciously, you made coherent babbles, fresh tears running down your eyes “Suguuu~ Slow down Can’t- Can’t take it.” “Oh Darling, my pretty little thing you make sure you enjoy all the attention from those filthy men but you can’t take your boyfriend’s cock??” He coos. You wrap your arms around Suguru’s neck feeling the pressure building up inside you, “S-Suguuu I’m cumming, please let me come” Tears welled up in your eyes begging for mercy. “Go ahead and come for me, darling.” Orgasm crashing down hard, your sweet essence gushing around his cock. Chest heaves up and down from the intense orgasm making you all dazed, Suguru cradles you in his arms calming you down. His pace slows down as his cock is still in your cunt caressing your sensitive spot riling you up. As you recover from your orgasm Suguru speaks up, “My love I know this isn’t the perfect time but I have something for you” his cock is still moving slowly inside of you. He reaches out for a black velvet box which had a perfect diamond ring with gold plated band. He slides in your ring finger and intertwines his fingers in yours increasing his pace slowly. “Promise that you will be mine for eternity.” You nod “Yes, I’m yours Sugu, only yours aaaaaaaaahhhh~” “Tell *Thrusts* me *Thrusts* how *Thrust* much *Thrusts* you *Thrusts* love *Thrusts* me” he tugs at your panties creating friction while making you bounce which knocks out the air in your lungs making you drool “Sugu I promise, I promise to be yours, I’ll never leave you” You cry out in pleasure. Your words make blood rush to his cock and he lays you down roughly on the bed and pounds into you by picking up your legs, throwing them on his shoulder and ripping your dress and panties off you at the urgency of being inside you again. Sounds of skin-slapping filled the entire room. “Tell me, repeat those words, darling.” He holds your face and caresses your cheeks wiping away all the tears from your face, kissing your eyes and lips, snapping his hips into you drilling your spot. You manage to mutter the words. “I promise, to be yours for eternity, I’ll- Suguuuu faster.” A hint of possessiveness fills his entire body and he pounds even harder, his one arm snaking under your thigh for stability, his fingers tugging at the hood of your clit and start altering between rubbing and circling your clit to make you reach your high faster, you squirt all over his abdomen, he smirks. His other hand intertwined with yours which had the ring. You bite your lip as your back arches making your whole body tremble in his touch. You try to grip your dear life at Suguru’s shoulder scratching his back. Your cunt spasm around his cock making you choke on your words. “S-Suguu, I’m y-yours, I’m cummi-cumming” you whine as you feel your second orgasm approaching, “Cum in me Sugu.” Too drunk to think. Suguru and you both reach your high and come at the same time “Oh fuck Darling” is all he manages to utter as your cunt spasms thick ropes of cum paints your velvety walls, some cum seeping out and running down your inner thigh and then on the sheets. Suguru collapses at the side and holds you close to his chest, not pulling out still buried deep into you. “You did so well my love, I’m so proud of you.” He kisses the crown of your head as you calm down listening to his heartbeat. You look at him and kiss his jaw “I love you, my dear fianceé.”
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