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struggling-with-drivers · 2 months

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Under the Opulence - Max Verstappen

⋗ Pairing - Max Verstappen x Reader

⋗ Summary - Your family isn't kind to you, and in fact, they all think Max would be a much better fit for your sister. Max likes to differ.

⋗ Word count - 3.4k words, hurt/comfort

⋗ Masterlist - This has been finished for some time, but I've only gotten around to given it a name Feedback and reblogs are appreciated

The grandeur of your family's foyer, adorned with polished marble and intricate chandeliers, set the stage for Max’s introduction to the world you came from. As you and Max entered, the echoes of your footsteps reverberated through the opulent space, the air charged with excitement and anxiety, but most noticeably on your side, dread.

Gabriella, your sister, emerged from an adjoining room, her presence demanding attention. With her radiant smile and effortless poise, she seemed to glide into the scene like a queen entering her court. She was the star of the family, the golden child who effortlessly commanded attention and adoration. With her striking looks and sharp intellect, she had always been the one to effortlessly charm anyone who crossed her path. Even your past romantic interests had succumbed to her allure, leaving you with the bitter taste of never good enough.

"It's okay, we're sisters," Gabriella would nonchalantly reassure you. "They weren't good enough for you if they wanted me more."

Her eyes, adorned with an air of confidence, locked onto Max, acknowledging his presence with a subtle yet unmistakable hint of curiosity. Bluntly scrutinising Max, she drank him up with her eyes, then she battered her long eyelashes a few times before slotting into the role of the perfect twin sister.

Max, a bit taken aback by the unexpected encounter, met Gabriella's gaze with a polite smile. That was all your sister needed before stepping forward, presenting her hand gracefully, a subtle gesture that belied the underlying power dynamics at play. Max, being the gentleman he was, reciprocated the greeting with a warm shake. However, as the customary exchange lingered for a moment longer than expected, you felt an unspoken tension building.

“Gabriella, but you – my dear – can call me Gabbie.” Her voice sang in the foyer, bouncing so wonderfully off the walls. You wanted nothing more than to leave. Their hands were still intertwined.

Instinctively, you began to withdraw your hand from his left, realising that you were caught in an awkward silence. Gabriella's grip on Max's hand tightened imperceptibly, and you hesitated for a split second, torn between asserting yourself and avoiding a confrontation. Finally, you reluctantly released Max's hand, a subtle concession that felt like surrender.

However, your parents made their grand entrance, drawn by the commotion in the foyer.

Gabriella finally let go of Max. She stepped back, allowing a brief respite from the charged exchange.

Your mother, an elegant woman with an air of sophistication, approached with a warm smile. "Oh, there you all are! We were starting to wonder when you'd make it to the heart of the festivities."

As she spoke, her eyes lingered on Gabriella and Max, a subtle but knowing gleam in her eyes. It was as if she sensed the unspoken currents beneath the surface. Your father, a more reserved figure, stood beside her, observing the scene with a discerning gaze.

"Mom, Dad, this is Max," you introduced, trying to steer the conversation away from the palpable tension that lingered.

With an air of practised nonchalance, Gabriella returned her attention to Max, a playful smile gracing her lips. "Well, Max, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you," she purred, her words leaving an ambiguous trail of intentions.

She tried to grasp his hand once again, but instead, he started helping you out of your coat to keep his hands busy.

Max, still wanting to leave a good impression, responded with a friendly smile. "Likewise, Gabriella. Your sister here has spoken highly of you too," he said, casting a glance in your direction, before he extended a polite hand toward your parents, exchanging pleasantries as he tried to steer the conversation towards the two newcomers in the foyer.

Gabriella subtly positioned herself beside him, a silent claim reaffirmed. The atmosphere remained charged, your parents seemingly ignorant of the intricate dynamics playing out before them. The dreadful feeling returned to you as your mom made eye contact with you once more. You averted your eyes.

Gabriella, seizing the opportunity, looped her arm through Max's, as if marking her territory. "Max, let me give you a tour of this magnificent place. There are so many things you haven't seen yet," she exclaimed, her tone holding a mixture of innocence and mischief.

Your heart sank as you watched them disappear into the lavish corridors of your family home.

“Let them go, honey. I’m sure he will be quite interested in our family’s history.” Your mother commented, foregoing the formality of any other type of recognition or greeting to you as she and your dad disappeared after Gabriella and Max.

Leaving you on your own in the opulent foyer, you wished to leave once more.

Determined to regain some semblance of composure, you wandered into the adjacent parlour, a room adorned with plush furniture and rich tapestries. The soft glow of antique lamps cast a warm ambience, but even the comforting setting couldn't dispel the growing unease. You settled into a chair, the plush upholstery offering little solace for the whirlwind of emotions swirling within. The room seemed to close in on you as you anxiously waited for Max and Gabriella to return. The dreadful feeling intensified with every passing moment, and your mind raced with unsettling thoughts.

Finally, the door swung open, and they entered the parlour. Gabriella's laughter echoed through the room. Max wore a polite smile, seemingly having enjoyed the tour, but you couldn't shake the feeling that Gabriella was orchestrating an elaborate performance.

"This place is quite… something," Max said, casting a glance in your direction as if seeking reassurance or acknowledgement. You tried to smile at him. Gabriella, however, continued to dominate the spotlight.

"We have quite the family history," she replied with a sly smile, her eyes flickering between Max and you. "It's a shame you won't be able to hear all the juicy details."

You forced another smile in response, but the unease gnawed at you. As they settled into the room, Gabriella strategically took the seat next to Max, her gestures and expressions aimed at enchanting him right before your eyes.

The conversation flowed effortlessly between them, a dance of words that excluded you from its rhythm. You felt like a mere observer in your own home, watching as Gabriella captivated Max with tales of the family's past, her laughter ringing like an enchanting melody.

Your attempts to engage in the conversation were met with fleeting glances as if your presence were an afterthought. Gabriella was ever so quick to recapture Max’s attention, despite your valiant efforts to seek a way into the discussion.

Desperate for a reprieve, you finally excused yourself under the pretence of attending to something in the kitchen. As you escaped the room, the weight of the evening bore down on you, and you couldn't shake the sinking feeling that this family gathering had become a stage for a performance in which you had no choice but to play a reluctant supporting role.

In the kitchen, you busied yourself with trivial tasks, the rhythmic clinking of dishes providing a brief respite from the orchestrated drama in the parlour. The tension that had followed you from the foyer to the parlour lingered like an unwelcome guest, and you desperately sought a moment of solitude to collect your thoughts.

As you absentmindedly stacked plates from the dishwasher, your mother entered the kitchen, her gaze lingering on you with a knowing expression. It was as if she could sense the turbulence beneath the composed facade you were desperately trying to maintain.

"Oh, dear, are you alright?" she inquired, her tone carrying a hint of concern.

You forced a smile, attempting to deflect the obvious discomfort. "I'm fine, just needed a moment away from the chatter in there."

Your mother's eyes softened, but there was a glint of curiosity. "Well, I must say, Gabriella and Max make quite the pair. They look so good together, don't you think?"

The question hung in the air, a subtle prod at the heart of the matter. You felt a knot tighten in your stomach as you processed the implications of your mother's words. It was a commentary that cut through the facade you were desperately trying to maintain.

"Oh, Mom, they're just chatting. It doesn't mean anything," you responded, attempting to downplay the situation.

Your mother, however, seemed undeterred. "I don't know, dear. They do seem to have a certain chemistry, don't you think? They'd make a handsome couple."

The weight of her words settled on you like an anvil, and you struggled to find a suitable response. The kitchen, for a brief moment, had been a sanctuary, but now felt like a confessional where you were forced to confront the complexities of your feelings.

"I...I don't know, Mom. It's just an introduction," you stammered, your attempts to maintain composure faltering.

Her gaze lingered on you for a moment, and then she sighed, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You know, sometimes we find unexpected connections in the most peculiar places. And if they happen to find something special tonight, well, we should be happy for them, shouldn't we?"

You felt a surge of frustration and helplessness.

“It’s such a shame his looks just aren’t quite there, but he certainly has other features to make up for it. Wouldn’t you say so as well? Yes, a shame, but Gabriella has always been so kind-hearted. I’m sure she doesn’t mind either.” Your mother continued, before finally smiling at you.

Her message was loud and clear, as she had expressed her approval of Max as a suitable match for Gabriella.

Your mother wanted you to break up with Max and hand him over.

It was as though Max was a commodity to be exchanged, a possession for your sister to play with until she grew tired and moved on. It made you feel sick to the stomach.

“Dinner is all ready, your father just put down the roast on the table.”

You followed your mother into the dining room, the scent of the roast filling the air. The grand table, adorned with fine china and polished silverware, became the stage for the next act in this familial drama.

As you took your seat, Max seated next to you, your parents strategically positioned Gabriella opposite Max. The tension in the room was palpable, and you couldn't shake the feeling that every word and gesture would be scrutinised.

"So, Max," your mother began, her eyes flickering between Max and Gabriella, "how did you find our home? Quite exquisite, isn't it?"

Max, thankfully pr-trained, nodded appreciatively. "It's a stunning place with so much history."

Gabriella's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and you braced yourself for what would come next. Your mother, however, wasn't finished.

"And speaking of history," she continued, casting a pointed look at Gabriella, "our family has quite a rich one. Gabriella, why don't you share some of the highlights? Max might find it fascinating."

“It’s alright, I think I heard enough earlier,” Max told your mom, “I would much rather hear childhood stories about her.” He turned his head, making himself able to look into your eyes, and you felt the dread spread. Despite the way he looked at you, it did nothing to calm you down, knowing your parents would not deliver what Max was expecting to be told about.

Max's genuine interest in hearing about your childhood seemed to momentarily disrupt the carefully choreographed performance. Your mother, however, skilfully manoeuvred to maintain the narrative she had meticulously constructed.

"Oh, Max, you're sweet," your mother said, offering a polite smile, "but Gabriella's achievements are the true highlights. She's always been the shining star of our family."

Your sister, seizing the opportunity, began to regale Max with tales of her academic triumphs, artistic pursuits, and social accomplishments. As she spoke, you felt the distance between you and Max widen, a chasm fuelled by your parents' insistence on casting Gabriella as the focal point of the conversation.

Max, sensing the discomfort, tried to redirect the conversation toward a more inclusive narrative. "I'm sure there are some other stories you could tell, perhaps some that aren’t about Gabriell-?"

“Please Max, do call me Gabby.” Gabriella interrupted Max.

Your mother exchanged a knowing glance with your father before responding, "Oh, there are plenty of stories, but I think Gabriella's achievements are what make our family truly special. Don't you agree, Max?"

Max hesitated for a moment, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. However, not wanting to create a scene, he nodded uncomfortably, "Yes, I guess Gabriella is quite accomplished."

Gabriella shot you a coy smile, her triumph was evident in the subtle control she exerted over the narrative. As the conversation continued to revolve around her, Max's attempts to steer it in a different direction seemed to hit an invisible wall.

Your parents, seemingly oblivious to Max's growing discomfort, continued to extol Gabriella's virtues. The room buzzed with the clinking of silverware and the murmur of praise, all while you sat there, a silent observer of your own family dinner.

As dessert was served, Max couldn't hide the subtle tenseness in his shoulders. He glanced at you, a mix of empathy and frustration in his eyes. Despite the challenging circumstances, you appreciated his efforts to bridge the gap.

When Max tried to ask about your childhood again, your mother skilfully redirected the conversation. "Oh, Max, we can talk about that another time. Let's focus on the present moment and enjoy the evening."

Your sister, seizing every opportunity to keep the spotlight, interjected, "You know, Max, I've always been curious about your interests and aspirations. Tell us more about yourself."

The shift in attention to Max was noticeable, but it wasn't the genuine interest he had hoped for. Instead, it felt like another tactic to steer the conversation away from you. Max, his patience waning, briefly shared short anecdotes about his work, nothing he hadn’t already told to the media. However, his eyes kept returning to you, his fingers intertwined with you. As though you were oblivious to the way your sister's feet – under the table – were trying to urge Max to look at her.

The night wore on, and Max's frustration continued to build, a silent storm brewing within him. The genuine smile he had worn upon arrival had now transformed into a tight-lipped expression, betraying his growing discontent.

Your dad had taken it upon himself to serve a glass of whiskey to him and Max, while your mother brought forth an array of finger foods and other light and savoury snacks. Your family settled around the nice fireplace in the big sitting room, it’s even more extravagant and opulent than the smaller parlour room you had tried to take refuge in earlier in the day.

When your sister, seemingly oblivious to the tension, leaned closer to Max, her voice dripping with false sweetness, "You know, Max, we're so thrilled to have you here. It's not often we get such distinguished company."

Max, no longer willing to play along, shifted uncomfortably on the beige couch. "Thank you for having me. It's been... quite an experience," he replied, his tone carrying a subtle edge.

Your father, still under the illusion that the evening had gone splendidly, raised his glass. "A toast! To family and new beginnings."

Max's frustration reached its peak as his eyes locked on your dad’s raised glass. Max abruptly stood up, the sound of him slamming his glass down echoing in the sudden silence. The tension in the room was palpable as he looked directly at your parents.

"I appreciate your hospitality, but I can't ignore the blatant disregard for your own daughter," he said, his voice measured but firm. "I came here hoping to learn more about her, but it seems the spotlight is reserved for someone else."

Gabriella's eyes widened in feigned innocence, a practised mask that Max wasn't buying. Your parents exchanged uneasy glances, finally sensing the budding cracks in their carefully constructed facade.

"I won't be a part of a charade that dismisses her existence," Max continued, his frustration now laid bare. "If you can't appreciate the amazing person she is, then I want no part in this. Goodnight."

Without waiting for a response, Max pulled you from the couch. As you both retreated from the sitting room, leaving behind the echoes of tension and shattered illusions, you felt a strange mixture of relief and sorrow.

Max led you through the ornate hallways of your family home, the grandeur of the surroundings now feeling suffocating. The air outside was cool and crisp as you stepped onto the front porch, the distant sounds of the night providing a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere within.

He turned to you, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and concern. "I'm sorry, I didn't expect it to be like this."

You managed a small smile, appreciating his genuine intentions. "It's not your fault. Thank you for trying."

Max sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Your family... it's not what I expected."

You nodded, feeling a lump forming in your throat. "It's never been easy."

"Look, I don't know what's going on, but you deserve better than this," Max said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I'm here for you, no matter what."

As Max navigated the darkened streets, a palpable tension and heavy silence filled the car ride home between you and him. The glow of streetlights cast fleeting shadows across his determined expression, the lines of worry etched into his brow.

You sat beside him, lost in your thoughts, the events of the evening replaying in your mind like a broken record. The weight of the strained interactions with your family weighed heavily on your shoulders, a burden you couldn't shake.

Max glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, breaking the silence that had enveloped the car.

You sighed, your gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. "I don't know, Max. Tonight was… a lot. I’m sorry for Gabriella."

“They shouldn’t have said any of that.” Max ignored your comment, “that’s not- even I know that’s now how you treat family.”

“I’m sorry for Gabriella.” You tried to tell him once again, instead finding his hand reaching out to tangle it into yours.

As Max's hand intertwined with yours, a comforting warmth spread through your fingertips, grounding you in the present moment. His touch was a lifeline, offering solace amidst the turmoil that had consumed your family gathering. You squeezed his hand gently, appreciating the silent support he offered.

Max pulled the car over, letting him turn to you and gaze into your eyes.

"I know you're sorry, love," Max whispered, his voice laced with understanding. "But you can't take responsibility for someone else's idiotic words. Gabriella's actions were uncalled for, and it's not your parents should have stopped it, not… Encouraged it."

His words resonated deep within you, reminding you that you were not solely accountable for the strained relationship with your parents. The weight on your shoulders began to lighten as if Max's presence alone could alleviate the burden.

You turned to him, finally meeting his concerned gaze. "Thank you, Max. Your support means the world to me."

He smiled softly, his eyes filled with tenderness. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what. We'll get through this together, alright?"

A surge of gratitude washed over you, grateful for the unwavering love and understanding Max consistently provided. You squeezed his hand once more, as he pulled out of the ditch.

The car continued to glide through the darkened streets, but the heavy silence had transformed into a comforting embrace of shared vulnerability.

As the glow of streetlights continued to cast fleeting shadows, you realised that it was in the darkest moments that the strength of your relationship with Max shone the brightest. And with his hand clasped firmly in yours, you knew that together, you could weather any storm or awful family dinner.

⋗ a/n - thank you for reading this, sorry that it took so long to post this one

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dragon-ascent · 4 months

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Xianyun had learned that Rex Lapis was having the time of his life living as a mortal in Liyue Harbor, but couldn't figure out why.

She loved humanity, but upon moving to the harbor to emulate them herself, she quickly realised how wide the gulf was between immortal leisure and mortal struggles. Taxes...mortgages...customs that had been watered down through the centuries, morphing into ideals and practices that Xianyun could barely recognise. And as impressive as the Jade Chamber was (though the crane was too proud too admit it), there seemed to be a dearth of intriguing mechanisms and contraptions that could hope to hold a candle to Xianyun's own wondrous inventions.

And she had to find a job to be able to earn Mora to exchange for goods and services?! Surely even one as patient and accepting as Rex Lapis would find many of these day-to-day human tasks quite tedious, no? So then why...

She's pulled out of her thoughts by the unmistakable sound of Rex Lapis' laughter, ringing like ceremonial bells that could render even the most chaotic of crowds silent in reverence. Intrigued, she follows the sound and finds him sitting on some steps - but he's not alone.

You're sitting beside him, sidled up to him and chatting away animatedly, your words prompting even more pleasant laughter from the old god. He's feeding you little bites of almond jelly from a cup, keenly watching while you relish the taste. He lights up even more (Xianyun didn't think that was possible) when you give him a thumbs-up and lick your lips with a smile.

The emotion swirling in Rex Lapis' amber eyes...there is no doubt about it, it is love. Xianyun then notices the matching rings you and him wear, and suddenly it all falls into place.

It is you who makes even the mundane seem exciting to the god. When you have a beloved companion to brave the challenges of mortal life with, anything seems possible. Evidently Rex Lapis himself understands this, and that's why everyday, he comes home to you as the mortal named Zhongli, happily taking on the role of your husband.

Xianyun turns away from the scene, a newfound understanding dawning upon her. No wonder Rex Lapis always looks positively radiant these days.

#sini writes #zhongli #genshin impact #zhongli x reader #fluff #drabble #xianyun #rex lapis

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lucysarah-c · 20 days

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Transactional

Summary: When you go to ask Captain Levi for a promotion, it's important to remain humble. Author note: I've had this idea for so long... this had been collecting dust in my computer for SO LONG. Because I wanted it to be hot and dirty like the underground's air but at the same time I was scared that it was a "bit" too much. That's it. In case I forget any warning or tag, feel free to remind me. Pairing: Levi x fem! reader. Warnings: Top Levi Ackerman, Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Smut, MP reader, Levi x MP reader, Captain Levi Ackerma, Dirty talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Cigarrettes, Smoking, Alcohol, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Oral sex, DUBCON, Bondage, Breathplay. Word count: 12k words of pure porn. You had been warned lmao HONESTLY, JUST BECAUSE I MANAGED TO EDIT this long ass post in the tumblr editor I DESERVE A LIKE AND A REBLOG (jk... but if you want its not a joke)

The agonizing rubatosis, mixed with the upsetting silence, creates a disconcerting atmosphere. Frowned eyebrows, eyes closed, cold feet rubbing over each other, and itchy underwear contribute to the discomfort. A deep breath in, count to 4, hold it for 7, and exhale slowly, counting to 8. Fists tighten, jaw clenches, and breathing becomes agitated.

‘Should I?’

Shea butter and vanilla penetrate her senses, smoothing legs that perfectly align, having been meticulously shaved. Not a single rough patch of skin, not a single hair, not a single cell left unmoistened. The hair conditioner matched the body lotion, nails painted a deep shade of red. Lips glide smoothly over each other thanks to the reddish gloss, creating a subtle plumping effect. The darkness enveloped her; hair spread on the pillow, eyelashes curved and painted a deep shade of black, with mascara perfectly in place. Blushed cheeks, radiant skin, softly glittering eyes, enhanced with brown pencil. Self-performed surgeon work, like an architect drawing up plans.

Reflective, slightly darker lips create the illusion of being kissed. Rosy cheeks mimic arousal. Uncomfortable underwear, but a perfect frame for her body. Subtly enhanced eyes for a pleasing view from the top. Everything is calculated, makeup that doesn’t look like makeup, intentionally tousled hair. She couldn’t recall the last time she put this much effort into her appearance for someone else. Usually, she dressed up for herself or her friends. A guy? Never, as far as she could remember.

All the to-do list’s lines had been checked except for one. The last item on her mental list was ‘Do you dare?’

Did she, though? Did she dare to slide her bare, smooth legs across the sheets, touch the cold floor, sneak through the corridors, slip inside through the creaked door, wait in the gloom with only one candle at the kitchen during late hours, hoping the collected info was real, and perhaps, only perhaps, see him appear through the door?

The place was ridiculously silent; she could hear her own feet against each other, her nervous tapping nails. Scouts followed rules, always doing what they were told, unlike the MPs. Even in the deep of night, you could hear everything—people making deals, cadets sneaking out, higher-ups taking cadets for personal parties. It was as if, the moment curfew started, another world began. Mixing that with the streets of the capital that never slept, the constant babble in the background. However, that wasn’t the scouts’ reality, and maybe that’s why she hated sleeping there so much. Somehow, she had gotten used to the sleepwalker city, and its ceaseless mutter became her lullaby.

After the retake of Wall Maria, after the coronation of the new queen Historia, life inside the walls changed drastically, especially in the military. New uniforms, universally appreciated in black, and the roles within the military became more ambiguous. MPs were still MPs, but they also contributed to the advances of new constructions, the displacement of new citizens to the reclaimed lands, and everyone learned how to use the new anti-person 3DMG.

Life was improving, or so many decided to believe. The scouts, almost eradicated after they took Wall Maria, saw an increase in their ranks. Transfers happened more than ever, and their salaries went from being the worst to the personal favourite military brand of the queen. Promotions were granted based on performance, sacrifice, and meritocracy—a notion she found irritatingly noble. Out of pettiness, boredom, or perhaps jealousy.

Extra-curricular activities? Even before she graduated from the trainee lines, she was in the top ten of her class, with excellent behaviour and military antecedents. Reports from citizens praised her attention and willingness to help. Double-checking almost everything. Therefore, explain why she had been rejected for a promotion so many times in the last years. The simple answer: anything in the MPs was about contacts and money, even as life inside the walls changed.

There was always an excuse—someone else deserved it better, a son of someone else got a spot that was rightfully hers, a green cadet got it simply because he was a man, and she clearly wasn’t. She wouldn’t lie and say that her desire to join the scouts had always been there. As a single daughter of a single mother, her wishes had always been to provide for her, to help her around. The day she could make her old mother stop working with her MP’s salary had been her happiest day.

Discussing it with her friend as they delivered provisions to the lines working on the train’s rails, not seeking help, but rather complaining in confidentiality. Concentrated so deeply in her venting that she didn’t notice how her friend remained quiet for a split second and then interrupted her with a cheerful smirk.

“Captain Levi just checked your ass.”

It caught her off guard, involuntarily making her want to check. “DON’T TURN!” her friend almost screamed. The idea felt bizarre, not because she wasn’t confident in her looks—she was hot as hell, and nobody could tell her otherwise. But… Captain Levi? From the Special Operation Squad? THE Captain Levi who had led the Uprising? Humanity’s Strongest Soldier? … That Captain Levi? Then, she gave it a second thought, slightly shaking her head.

“You must have imagined it,” she said.

“I SWEAR, you bent, and he checked you,”

“But… Captain Levi is?”

“Short?”

“No, you idiot. I mean yes, but not what I’m trying to say,” she corrected herself. “He just… I’ve never even heard about him with any girl, anyone to be more precise.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” her friend said, grabbing a box and starting to walk away, “but I know what I saw.”

Superiors and higher ranks checking her out, catcalling, perhaps even touching without permission? UFF, the military was full of them, even when she was much younger. However, Captain Levi could be an antisocial, stoic little jerk, but it had never struck her as those types of men. Always so uptight, correct, stoic, disinterested. There was a rumour circulating that perhaps… and only perhaps, he wasn’t particularly fond of women. A few female soldiers had tried to show their interest during military hangouts, and none of them had been successful. Considering military men’s pent-up frustration, that was very odd behaviour.

If there’s a rumour that spreads faster than what happens in someone’s sheets, it’s the lack of activity in those sheets. Captain Levi seemed to be on the other spectrum of the rumours. He definitely wasn’t a womanizer, and if he was one, what a smooth criminal he was. Not a single victim had been known.

“You know what would give you that promotion?” The administrative higher-up enlightened her after another unsuccessful raise in her salary. Her resentful eyes admired the boy, easily seven years younger than her, getting a spot because his father was a military member too. Her tired stare moved slowly back to her front, silently waiting for the pointless information to be given to her. A better cover letter? CV? Extra hours? Non-paid internships in other divisions? What?

“A recommendation from someone important.”

The red lips of the administrative staff moved slowly. If Y/N squinted a bit, she would have been able to hear the indirect suggestion. Between women, softly getting closer so the secretary could whisper without being heard. Glasses pushed down the nose bridge, and Y/N drew closer to hear the secret.

“You know, the scouts are making a big impact around here lately. Think about it.”

The words accumulate on her throat; her lips trembled, but nothing aside from indecipherable sounds left her mouth, frowning slightly at the idea.

“Think about it,” the woman repeated. “You won’t be the first girl, dear, and I guarantee you won’t be the last one.”

The wisdom that came with age and serving the military's paperwork for so many years must have given the woman enough knowledge to suggest it so plainly. What she hated the most? She had been considering it badly; she needed the money; she wanted the promotion. What was the difference between some stupid daddy's boy licking the boots of his higher-up for the position than this?

The boldest side of her mind insisted that she had slept with ex-boyfriends who were less attractive, less influential, and definitely less clean than Captain Levi. Yes, Captain Levi, because if she was doing this, she was going big or going home. Not some random newly promoted squad leader or anything. Those were the other options at the scout after they got almost eradicated—purely freshly adults. Her mind tried to convince herself of an easier target, like Jean perhaps, but she gagged at the idea. ‘He’s a baby, barely 18.’

For a split second, she wished Commander Erwin was alive. Never met him; she hadn’t even talked to him, but the blond seemed like an easier target somehow. Was it because people had talked about a chick or two that he took to his hotel’s room after parties? Maybe.

‘What’s the worst thing that could happen?’ pondering around the idea, like a friend encouraging you to confess to the boy you have a crush on. “You already got the no, go for the yes!” they would say, but this wasn’t silly girlish crushes.

‘That he says no and thinks of you as some cheap-ass whore.’

No, this wasn’t a crush. It was plain transactional.

‘Well… not like Captain Levi had ever looked over to me as if he had me in any sort of high esteem to begin with.’

Back to the beginning. They had ordered her to help around the Scout’s facilities as they developed the new train station around Paradise, and as soon as those orders had reached her ears, the plan was rolling. ‘Now… or never.’

Battle dress on: short loose shorts, a loose shirt that barely covered her belly, and her fanciest lingerie underneath. Captain Levi always made himself a cup of tea late at night to carry on with paperwork. Her military’s trajectory to secure the objective was: leave her bed, go there, and hope that her glossy lips and glittery eyes would do the trick. This was far from what she was used to, and what had boosted her confidence earlier that day to get ready had easily dripped away. Leaving her tied up to her bed as an external force that incapacitated her from doing it.

‘He’s not your higher-up; he can’t fire you directly.’

‘But what if he does?’

‘He’s probably small and will last a couple of minutes with luck; it’s easy as cake.’

‘What if he tells someone?’

‘You got nothing to lose and a lot to win.’

‘Everybody does something to scale in the MPs; no amount of extra work and good behaviours would get you anywhere. Think about what you could buy with that promotion.’

Tiptoes on the ground, a deep sigh, hands on the edge of the mattress pushing her up, calculated steps on the wood planks that didn’t squeak, palm against the edge of the door to close it without making a sound, single candle in her grip waiting for her to reach the kitchen to turn it on, non-existing hairs raising on her legs due to the coldness of the halls, curious eyes checking over her shoulder as she reached the kitchen, candle on, kettle on the fire, speech ready.

‘Now… are you going to show up, Captain?’

The flame of the candle flickered in the night air. She had heated the water multiple times, taking the kettle off the stove before it boiled, resting it on the countertop, and once it cooled, returning it to the fire. The script had been prepared, written, and practiced in her mind. However, the main participant in this story, her co-star, had not made his triumphant appearance.

First, she waited in a poised position, then faced the door while resting her weight on the countertops. After an hour and a half, the cold had crept up on her, fighting and winning against the burning heat of the nerves, leaving her shivering. Bent over the countertops with her eyes fixed on the kettle, she seemed disinterested, disappointed, and tired.

Her hand covered her mouth in a loud yawn. Once the anxiety had subsided, tiredness set in—slow blinks, head buried between her arms on the table, eyes still fixed on the kettle. It was right there, on the fire, still with time to boil. "You're going to burn the whole place down," a voice interrupted her thoughts.

That snapped her back from her reverie. It was evident that her mind had conjured a realistic dream because the kettle she was supposed to be watching had been removed from the fire, with a cloth covering the handle, and placed on the countertop, far from her reach to prevent burns. Steam billowed loudly from it, whistling in the stillness of the night.

Standing up, she froze in place, her mouth slightly agape as she tried to process what she was witnessing. The first few buttons of his grey shirt were undone, and he wore black trousers of the uniform, but no boots. Although his slippers didn't match the scene, his exhaustion was unmistakable. There he stood, as stoic and unfriendly as ever: Captain Levi, with rolled-up sleeves, removing the kettle from the fire and clicking his tongue as he turned off the gas.

Facing away from her, he seemed as indifferent as if she were just another countertop in the kitchen. Her nails softly scraped her arms as she pondered whether to press further, take the hint, or if she was simply cold, hence why she ran her hands up and down her arms. The muscles of his back contracted and moved, the V-shaped shadow down his spine emphasized his broad shoulders and defined waist. His rolled-up sleeves made her admire his porcelain skin, catching the light in particular shapes as some of his forearm hair shimmered under the candlelight.

While the slippers detracted slightly from the uniform, diminishing the powerful feeling, she had to admit, upon deeper thought, that the tight black trousers of his new uniform were incredibly appealing. Despite his short stature, Captain Levi was a fine specimen of a man. The subtle notion that perhaps scouts, with their heavy training, gather a couple of points from the MPs in that department. After all, MPs hardly bothered to train beyond the obligatory, which was very little.

Slightly turning to his right, locking eyes with her with an unapproachable demeanour, hand on hip, he questioned, "Dare to explain what you're doing breaking curfew, cadet? Do you want to jeopardize us all with your incompetence"

The first part of her plan was to improvise. ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she thought about saying, but how could she claim that after sleeping over the countertop? His grey eyes, almost cat-like, hunted her in the dark, and suddenly, she felt her legs tremble. There was something inexplicably magnetic about him now that she had him up close, alone, in the middle of the night.

Her lips, still glossy, parted in doubt as she mumbled uneasily, "I…" She wanted to come up with a new excuse, but quickly realized she wasn’t cut out for this, for the whole charade. "I have a headache," she finally managed.

His face remained unreadable, uninterested eyes glued to her, judging her, waiting for her to break under his scrutiny, like a mother who knows you’re lying, allowing a brief moment of silence for a confession before taking matters into her own hands. But Y/N stayed resolute, gathering ambition from unknown sources.

Hand on hips, weight shifting from one leg to another, eyes quickly moving from her face to the countertop. "That won’t help," the words crossed the kitchen as if it were an open field of a hunting sport, piercing her heart but leaving her to crawl an agonizing death until her dying breath.

"Sorry?"

Eyes focusing again on the countertop. "Black tea," he said monosyllabically, as if each word cost him money. "That doesn’t help with headaches; you should get chamomile or peppermint."

"Ah," she replied, confused. Why was he clarifying that? What was the point of this conversation? Crossing legs as the cold crept in, but it quickly vanished as blood rushed to her cheeks.

Turning back around, facing the counter and gripping her own teacup. The recommendation was blatantly ignored; it seemed like a random fact thrown at her rather than something to take seriously, at least for her. About to carry on, she considered just faking preparing the tea and getting away from there.

Frozen in place, each hair on her body raised involuntarily. Not even his steps against the wood planks had been heard. ‘Oh.. Uhm-’ the natural process of breathing was totally forgotten. A strong, patronizing hand sneaking, almost creeping with confidence on her lower back, guiding her toward another cupboard.

He moved closer, getting an involuntary reaction out of her. Straightening up, chest pushing forward, lips parting, breath accelerating. He was so close, looking into her. Eyes locked onto hers over her shoulder, transparent pearls penetrating her soul. Nails sank into her palms as her teeth clenched. If he was so short, why did it feel so towering? Suddenly, the thought of owing him an apology for simply sharing the same air crossed her mind. Her nipples were noticeable through her loose shirt; he must be able to see it. As he grew closer, her idea was that all the subtle little hints must have worked.

Eyes closed, holding her breath, the air moving around her gave her the idea of movement. Holding out for nothing. Waiting for him to steal a kiss from her, perhaps grip her hips, pushing aside her loose short, turning her around, and fuck her roughly and mindlessly over the countertop. Getting what he wanted as if it were rightfully his.

“Here,” she opened her eyes. He was handing her a tea box where it read the same ingredients he had suggested.

“Thank you, sir,” her subtle smile tried to make up for her disappointment. Expectations were different; somehow, her best hopes were on him ogling at her, making it more impersonal and disinterested. Therefore, she could say that she walked up there, perhaps pleased him, and got what she came looking for. It was easier; easier it is to repeat like a broken record some silly washed-up quotes and nicknames that guys allegedly liked. ‘Yes, daddy’, ‘I’ll be a good girl Captain, I just do bad things with you,’ ‘Please, sir. I’m a good girl,’ or something in the department of ‘Ah- its so big, daddy,’ Get used and lose a little bit of dignity in exchange for something else.

Different it is, the tension building in her as she felt him looming over her frame, reminding her of just how insignificant she truly was compared to him. His hand resting lightly on the small of her back, guiding her movements. The coolness of his touch contrasting with the heat radiating off her body. Or the opposite, how cold and exposed she felt with her scant clothes and his cold hand didn’t help. A treacherous finger began to travel upwards, making each vertebra move and curve.

“Sir?” she hated how scared her voice sounded. Suddenly, as if it had escaped her mind, she remembered he was humanity’s strongest soldier. The soldier who went on the expedition to retake Wall Maria and essentially fought the most difficult titan shifter known until now, who led the Uprising. How many MPs did he kill there? How much stronger was he than her? Could she truly still walk away from this, or was her fate sealed?

“You’re stiff as a board; that’s giving you the headaches,” he commented casually as his right hand reached her shoulder and kneaded.

The action was absurdly overwhelming; she didn’t know her traps hurt this much until now but also how to react. Self-preservation mechanisms were out of the window; her lips pronounced what they had been dying to say since she left her bed. “It’s because of the promotion; it’s stressing me out.”

“I can help with that,”

Her worst fears and wildest dreams, all together in a sentence. Confirming what she came looking for but also the end of the speculations. Translucent eyes looked at him over her shoulder, expecting him to make the bolder move. She hated to admit how her heart skipped a beat, how his controlling hand on her neck made her want to arch her spine and gasp softly.

“With the headaches, I mean,” adrenaline had reached a peak and now tumbled down, leaving her devoid of thought other than disappointment mixed with relief. However, his tone, covered in a thin layer of entertainment, passed unaware to her at first.

Both hands on each trap, fingers sank in and then moved. Tearing her muscles apart from her bones, that’s how it felt. Handling, strong, overwhelming. Her breath stuck in her chest, and no matter how much she tried, she wobbled in her place. No amount of strength could help her remain still. Each tug that forced her to press slightly back against his chest, feeling the straps of the uniforms, made her sense weak, nervous. How his strong, calloused fingers felt divine, slightly too rough with the perfect amount of pain to make her forget for a minute but not entirely. Despite their roughness, his nails were perfectly short, making it impossible to experience any scratches.

The thought that perhaps there was another motive behind all this, beyond just getting a promotion, crossed her mind. It was the opportunity to experience how it would feel to be man-handled by the strongest soldier out there until she was left foolish. Her walls pressed together as excitement crept in, reminding her of how lonely and empty she felt. Wouldn’t a little love and something significant big feel extraordinary? The realization of how thin her shorts were and how much her body reacted to his touch filled her with shame.

Allowing him to treat her like some bitch in heat, shooting a load or two for a mere letter that said, "she’s good at what she does," as some cruel inner joke. It left her feeling worthless yet needy, a bad combination.

“Breathe, you’re tensing even more,” he murmured, and she could almost swear the smirk could be felt in his tone. The intentions were to breathe, to remain unaffected, but his movements felt powerfully triggering, and he seemed so unbothered by it. Any force he applied to almost tear her muscles into the correct position didn’t signify any real strength for him.

Each tug began to win little chopped breaths out of her as it was painful but also relaxing. She couldn't help but obey his command, forcing herself to take deep breaths to try and relax. But his touch, his presence, it was all so intense. Each movement of his hands felt deliberate, calculated, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. And she couldn't deny the tingling sensation that spread through her body at his touch, despite her best efforts to remain composed.

She struggled to follow his instructions, her breaths coming out in short, shallow gasps as his hands worked their magic on her tense muscles. Each touch sent shivers down her spine, igniting a strange mix of pleasure and discomfort within her. It was as if he could sense her vulnerability, her longing for something more than just a simple massage. Tug, thumbs pressing against her traps as they moved upwards, dragging her skin with them, chopped out breath as the pressure was too much before it withdrew slowly.

Then all over again, harsh. “Mhh ah-” it left her lips involuntarily as he touched a particular place. She gnawed her lip, holding back. His fingers weren’t particularly soft, not only because of the pressure he delivered but also rough with days and days of working, slightly calloused, rubbing in all the right places. Not again, she swore she was trying to remain composed, how he hadn’t heard her. “AH-” wincing as he moved up and contracted her neck, she feared for a second he would choke her.

His grip tightened, nails digging deeper into her flesh, pulling her downward. Thighs shaking, knees buckled, she fought to keep standing as her world spun. He knew her weakness; he exploited it without remorse. Every touch was a reminder of his dominance, every pull a testament to his power. She was helpless beneath him, unable to escape his grasp. Levi’s hands, humanity’s strongest hands—strong, angled, harsh, broad.

He chuckled.

He chuckled between pulls, his thumb rubbing circles on her sore spots, while his palm pressed harder against her neck.

Y/N froze in place as she felt him chuckle entertained behind her, almost mischievously. “Somebody is excited,” he calmly commented, but the smirk on his face was subtly evident in his tone. His voice was steady, despite the few sassy remarks, and it annoyed her to death. Like a cat playing with a moth until it's dead, they know they've won the game, so why rush it? Let's enjoy the hunt while she’s stripped of her dignity. “Nobody's given it to you in a while?”

Lips parted, feeling a mix of embarrassment and offense, she looked over her shoulder at Levi’s bleary eyes. “Excuse me?” she frowned deeply as she turned. She hadn't realized until then how close he was to her, practically breathing the same air. His stare penetrated her iris and seemed to read her soul, making her swallow uneasily. Her demanding tone quickly withdrew not only from her voice but also from her features. His silence subtly implied, but his presence demanded, ‘Come on, girl. You don’t reply to me like that if you know what's good for you.’ That’s what she got.

“A massage,” he said quietly, “nobody's given you a massage in a while?”

At this rate, she knew he knew. He was playing, dancing around the edge of pretending ignorance and seeing how far she would go. Standing, either summoning the courage to bring up the offer herself or walk out empty-handed. Waiting, like a mafia boss to see how much she would beg before setting her free, or crawling back to him, hoping for an opportunity.

There was an inner battle: either snap at him, reply, or descend all levels of self-love.

“It’s because you’re going too rough,” she said, mainly because she refused to be so quickly humiliated by a guy that short. Both looked at each other; her gaze moved slightly over his eyes, expecting any shift, something, but it was obvious that in a stare fight, he was going to win.

"Rough?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. “You’ve no idea what rough means.”

Her cockiness quickly withdrew. She wished she had some sassy comeback prepared or ready, but it wasn’t the case. Her teeth rolled along the edge of her bottom lip. It made her curious; either he liked to pretend he had more sexual history than was known, or she had bitten off more than she could chew. It stirred up a mix of curiosity, excitement, nervousness, and fear all at once. Imagining him fucking some unknown soldier rough, mindlessly, just for the sake of it. Scouts were so stressed, living quick, short lives.

Her eyes couldn’t help themselves, quickly dropping down to check. His thick, muscular legs, almost as if they had been forced to fit into the tight black trousers of the uniform. Losing its subtleness, the outline of his dick on one side of his left leg forced her to look back up. She finally turned around to face him again, but his stoic expression gave away little information, almost none.

“Perhaps you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, brat,” his voice began to sound like a distorted dream. She was waiting for some smooth approach or perhaps a fully humiliating one. The expectations were simpler: either he would like to pretend some love he endeared from her or behave like any disgusting dude at a bar, asking for a quickie in a bathroom cabinet. Neither of the two options was less humiliating. But this was different.

At this rate, the humiliation and initial thoughts were replaced by overwhelming curiosity. “How rough?” She felt her glossed lips stick together slightly as she murmured timidly, feeling her head heat up and her stomach tighten. Something intrinsically wrong must be with her, she believed.

With a second thought, she was sure that this would make her extremely ashamed.

“You’ll have to stick around to find out,” he warned, not a single centimetre of his features giving away any sort of intentions. Excitement or expectation, arousal or boredom, sweetness or creepiness. Grey gems looking back at her deadly, daring her to make deals with the devil or walk back home.

‘Go big or go home, didn’t I say that?’

“I want a recommendation,” she finally said it, thrilling anticipation coursing through her veins. This man, this beast, was about to unleash hell upon her body. Yet, she found herself oddly eager for it. Was it fear or excitement? Perhaps both. “and… in exchange, you can go as rough as you want.”

It felt absurdly dirty. Giving it a thought in the hole of self-hate, she concluded that perhaps she should have done this when she was younger, like her friends as cadets. When hormones and lack of experience made it hard to think it through, that receiving a good salary and free days to go out and party was worth letting any squad leader get a chance.

"Recommendation," he echoed, repeating her words as if testing them on his tongue. There was a moment of silence, as if weighing the pros and cons of such a proposition.

Finally, he nodded. "Very well."

Those two words held such weight, sending another wave of nerves through her. What had she gotten herself into? The room suddenly became hotter, thicker, suffocating. Her heart raced faster, pounding heavily in her ears.

Half-lidded, she moved closer, not entirely sure how this was done, if it was meant to start slow and soft for it to escalate. But she tried; she could take the lead in the kiss. But his hand stopped her face as he tilted backwards, completely breaking the moment.

“Who do you think I am?” Levi said, offended. And she feared for her life. Perhaps he just wanted to ascertain how much of an easy, cock-drunk slut she was to give him more reasons to find her worthless. But then, “Some green cadet who, for the sake of getting my cock wet, I would fuck you behind a horse at the stables? Or at the common kitchen?”

She didn’t know how to answer, but thankfully, Levi didn’t give her much time to talk. “My chambers.”

Feeling closer to a military order than a booty appointment, she slowly made her way to the door while he retreated to the counters, tidying up. Her feet dragged across the hall as she pushed open the door, her eyes constantly checking behind her. She couldn't shake the feeling that this might all be a joke.

Before she knew it, his hand urged her forward, pushing at the small of her back to guide her upstairs. "Come on, girly, we don’t have all night," he muttered.

It felt like a shameful march. They ascended the stairs in silence, each step echoing loudly in the otherwise quiet hallway. The stillness of the night only intensified her discomfort; she couldn't shake the feeling that someone might overhear them. Perhaps some night owl among the scouts would peek through a door, or worse, they might already know who slept where. The thought of having to make the same trip downstairs the next morning filled her with dread. As if she would walk out of that room with a paper stuck to her forehead that said, "I was Captain Levi’s slut for a night."

Led through the dim corridors of the base, they passed several closed doors marked 'Officer Quarters,' indicating where higher-ranking personnel resided. Finally, they reached what seemed to be his room. With a swift motion, he unlocked the door and gestured for her to enter first. ‘What a gentleman,’ she thought sarcastically.

As she stepped inside and took in her surroundings, she noticed the simplicity of his chamber. It lacked extravagance, with only functional furniture and tools of his trade. The room felt impersonal, as if he had never bothered to make it feel like home. His office area featured a desk cluttered with paperwork and a bookshelf filled with texts on military strategy and tactics.

To the left were two doors, presumably leading to his bedroom and an attached bathroom. Levi moved past her to search through the cabinets while she observed. Two glasses were already filled by the time he turned to her.

"A drink?" he offered.

She accepted, unable to suppress a subtle smile. Whatever she had anticipated for the night, this wasn't it. Chuckling, she teased, "Do you offer drinks to all the girls you bring over?"

Levi downed his drink and poured another. "No. But you seem nervous as fuck, and it’s making me uncomfortable."

She laughed softly, acknowledging the truth in his statement. "Thank you, then." The burn of alcohol sliding down her throat helped steady her nerves somewhat.

As they stood there, glasses in hand, tension hung thick between them. Hoping the alcohol would ease the tension, she shifted her attention elsewhere, but she could feel his eyes on her, assessing her. Swallowing, Addam's apple moving before he spoke, "Are you clean, right?"

His question caught her off guard, and she almost choked on her drink. "What?" she hummed, not fully comprehending.

Then, fear crept in quickly. "I am… I’m not doing it without protection," she clarified confidently.

His chuckle did little to ease her worry. "No shit, girly. I wasn’t stupid enough as a teen to not wrap it up. I'm not starting now," he replied. "The last thing I need in my life right now is getting a chick knocked up."

His words, despite their lack of warmth, reassured her. "I meant, is it safe for me to eat you out,"

Relief washed over her as she realized her misunderstanding. "Oh," she replied sheepishly. "Yes, you can." As his words sank in, she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks, lips pressing together before she took another sip and crossed her legs. 'Doesn’t he want a blowjob?' How many superiors offer you promotions in exchange for making you cum?

He nodded, finishing his drink in one gulp. His intense gaze never wavered from hers. "Good."

Slowly, he approached her, closing the distance until they were mere inches apart. She could smell the liquor on his breath, taste it on his lips. For a brief moment, she wondered if he expected her to initiate something, but before she could gather her thoughts, their lips met in a passionate kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, asserting dominance as his hands gripped her hips, pressing her against the door.

Pulling away slightly, he pinned her against the door, his hands roaming her body as he kissed her jawline. "Wait… let’s go to the room," she suggested, realizing he meant to fulfil his earlier request.

"No, you're too timid for riding my face. I want to be buried in your pussy right now," he insisted. The impact against the harsh wood surface and his lips reconnecting with her with necessity almost knocked her completely off her breath. Hands that had been kneading her shoulders only a few minutes ago were now digging into her hips, pushing them into his, possessive and demanding.

"Levi," she managed to croak out, her voice barely audible. The kiss was broken again, and her agitated breathing filled the gap between their faces. Surprised by his sudden aggression, she struggled to form coherent thoughts as he continued to devour her neck and shoulders. His hands roamed freely over her body, tracing along her curves and dipping beneath her top to cup her breasts roughly.

“It’s Captain Levi, for you,”

All her attempts to appear seductive were now the natural flush of her face, pumped lips of how they tried to suck each other’s air, the blood in her cheeks, the tossed hair. His hands grabbed the edge of her shorts and played with it. His words crossed the little space between their features with cockiness. “What are you wearing under this for me? Huh? What slutty little shit did you put on to wrap yourself up as if you’re my birthday present?”

A cheeky index finger ghostly touched her belly with its knuckle, making the fine hairs raise involuntarily before tugging on the fabric to sneak a peek. ‘Why doesn’t he just tell me to strip?’ But Captain Levi seemed to be like a cat; he liked to play with his prey until eating them completely, a cruel game. Eyes checked down and hummed in approval. “Black, classic. Not bad,” he said, but a part of his speech didn’t seem impressed. “But I prefer pink.”

Her mind insisted on giving it a second thought, that he didn’t strike her as those types of guys, but anything happening until then had proved to her that she had no idea who he was, what he liked, what type of man Captain Levi was.

Without further prompting, Levi dropped to his knees, positioning himself between her legs. His fingers trailed along the hem of her shorts, pausing briefly before dropping it. He took a moment to appreciate the sight before diving in, his nose brushing against the fabric.

Y/N sucked in a sharp breath as his warm breath tickled her sensitive flesh. Anticipation built within her, mixing with apprehension. It was unavoidable. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to focus solely on the sensations washing over her. A gasp left her lips as he grabbed her right leg and lifted it as if it was nothing and placed it over his shoulder. His calloused hand still lingering on it, gripping her thighs with strength and pleasure, enjoying gripping them as his nose pressed softly against her folds.

Levi's skilled fingers hooked beneath the elastic band of her panties, tugging them aside just enough. Once removed, he ran the pad of his thumb lightly over her swollen core. An involuntary moan escaped her lips. She trembled in a different kind of anxiousness; it was now plainly obvious. With a smirk, Levi leaned in closer, his nose barely grazing her sensitive flesh. "Do you like that, girly?" he whispered, his tone thick with lust. Her answer was evident in the way she trembled under his touch.

Gently, he blew cold air across her wetness, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. She couldn't help but arch her back, moaning softly as her grip tightened on the door behind her. Nails digging into the wood as terror set in. Slowly, he lowered his head, his tongue darting out to trace the outline of her folds.

Fear. No, he didn’t want a quickie at some public facility. No, he didn’t want some quick blowjob under his desk. No, he didn’t want any fast, easy solution. He wanted to savour each single centimetre of skin, torture all the cells, squeeze each second that he got to play with her as his little possession.

Each flick of his tongue sent shockwaves of sensation throughout her body, making her squirm. His expert hands found purchase on her thighs, holding her firmly in place. His tongue flicked out, teasing her entrance as his thumb kept doing slow little circles on top of her clit. Gripping his shoulders for balance and support. He slid his middle finger across her entrance, coating it with her arousal before dipping it inside. His thumb continued to tease her clit, stroking gently yet firmly.

Her moans grew louder, punctuated by soft whimpers as her head thumped against the door. Her breath agitated as his tongue slipped inside her. “Mh- Ah!” she felt her climax nearing, wondering with half-lidded eyes why he was being so pleasing. It was torture how he moved with perfect sync, but yet it was subtle. As if she let herself be dragged by the course, her body relaxing and twitching unintentionally as he held her in place.

Her back arched unintentionally, trying to follow him as he suddenly pulled back when she was about to reach her peak. “Captain-”

“That’s it, get all soft for me,” He murmured as he casually kissed the bottom of her belly. Before he went back, determined. It only took one, two, three flicks of his thumb directly over her bud to make her gasp loudly, press her raised leg against his head and feel how the other tensed and then struggle to keep her up. Her breath struggled to find a rhythm when all of a sudden, he took all of her in. Unapologetic tongue ran flat all over her fold before closing over the top so he started to suck and lick directly her clit as two unceremonious fingers were playing with her entrance before sinking in all the way.

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out as her nails scratched the door and she began to twist in position as if it was too much after her release.

“MH- Ah, no wait- AH!” a loud moan cut her complaints as his fingertips found a particular place and decided to assault it with no mercy, as his mouth kept playing directly over her clit. It was too much; she felt her leg shaking as much as she felt his fingers getting impossibly wet and slippery inside with no remorse anymore. They pushed against her walls, making her feel the tug of her own body before returning to press against that spot.

“No. No-hah!” She began convulsing against the wall, her head moving hectically to the side as she felt herself getting impossibly wet and electric waves coursing through her. “Please- No! Wait ah! No."

Palms pressed against the door, trying to push herself upwards, but he grabbed her shaking leg that was struggling to keep her up and positioned it over his shoulder with the other. The movement was so smoothly done; to him, it felt natural, but for her, it felt like a completely different situation. The strength with which he moved left her absurdly powerless; the tug felt so powerful as if she didn’t even notice the resistance she was exerting compared to his.

Then, he completely sat on his face. She felt everything—the contour of his face as her body rocked involuntarily, his fingers slipping in and out as his nose rubbed against her folds while his tongue licked clean her abused hole. “HM!” she gasped loudly, jerking upwards before falling completely over his head when the hand that was kneaded the meat of her thigh slapped her loudly.

She wanted to move, to slip away as she felt as if her bones were being drained, uncontrollable pleasure overtaking her. Her thighs pressed against his head as one of her hands moved downwards to tug his soft dark locks, obsessed, shivering as her mind kept shutting down.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she struggled against him, fighting against his strong grasp. "Please, Captain, I can't take it anymore!" she pleaded, her voice hoarse and desperate. “I’m fucking going to piss myself.”

With a smirk hidden from view, Levi held her in place, refusing to let her go. He knew exactly where she stood, only groaning pleasingly as he intensified his actions. His fingers thrust into her relentlessly, matching his rhythm with the flicks of his tongue. Levi could feel her hips buck violently, trying to escape his relentless assault, how she squirmed helplessly in his grasp. He was feasting on her with no remorse.

She cried out his name, unable to bear the intensity any longer. Her orgasm hit like a freight train, her body convulsing as she tried to pull away. But he wouldn't allow it, keeping her anchored to his mouth, shaking as he kept driving his tongue all over her. The feeling of being dripping was overshadowed by him drinking her in as if he was the thirstiest man alive, moaning against her folds as she could almost bet she felt his pleased smirk.

At some point, she couldn’t even hold her form against the door, twitching involuntarily. Levi reluctantly released her, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand. He stood up and picked her up, no buckling knees, no groan or scoff as he did; it was as if he was picking up a paper sheet from the desk. Weightless, powerless against his pull. Unceremoniously, he dropped her on the bed.

Jacket off shoulders, left at the back of a chair inside his room. Arness's upper part was pushed down so his hands could grip the edge of his grey shirt and push it over his head. Then, before she could process it, enjoying the soft cotton of the fabric against her body, marking a huge difference from the rough door, one of his knees sank on the mattress before he crawled to be between her legs.

Elbows on the bed, heels pushing upwards, her broken voice pleaded, “no, please. It’s enough,” as he kissed and nibbled the sweet part of her inner thighs before moving to her core again. “Ah!” she jerked again as he snapped the side of her leg again.

The tingling heat after the hit lingered on her as Levi rearranged her on the bed to his pleasure. “I think you’re not understanding your position,” he groaned, “I’ll say when it's enough; you just have to spread your legs for me to do what I please. That’s your fucking job now if you want your stupid letter, lay there and be a good pliant hole for me to fuck.”

Uncomfortable groans echoed in the room, interrupted by his own voice once again, “Did I make myself clear?”

“Yes…” she murmured but his haunting glance between his legs made her thought he heard her backwards softly. Passing down saliva, “Yes, sir.”

“This is your last warning,” he informed her, while his hands ran up and down her body, palm flat against the valley of her breasts, the touch was so soft but it felt subtly rough from the callouses of his hands, a permanent reminder this wasn’t supposed to feel as lovely as it momentarily did. “Did you hear me, girly? Or have I already fucked you dumb?”

“Yes, sir.”

Contorting uneasily as little whimpers left her lips between a mix of discomfort, pleasure, exhaustion, and pain. Pain because she could already feel his fingers sneaking in, three of them patiently spreading her for him and his restless mouth once again on work. It was too much, involuntarily her legs pushed against the mattress when he hit a particular place. Twisting as if she was possessed, fingers tugging from the sheets and her back arching as a natural reflex.

It was embarrassing how much she felt the wetness of her own mixed with his saliva sneaking through her ass cheeks down to the bed. Her legs felt weak but got a sudden burst of strength as he kept playing with a place that made her eyes roll back and tried to push her up. Levi held her in place, arm surrounding her thighs and arching her core to his face. Despite it all, her hole twitched with the necessity of more, demanding something even bigger as she felt her pinkie fingers going numb from the overpressure.

Knees buckled as he parted momentarily. “What a cute little slutty hole. You’re so tight; I will enjoy fucking it raw,” while she trembled in anticipation, Levi smirked as if he could already see everything he had planned in his mind. He softly pressed a finger on it only to see it clamp down onto it. “So fucking needy; when was the last time you got a good cock to fuck you back into your place?”

With a smirk, Levi withdrew his finger, replaced it with his mouth, and plunged inside, sucking her into his mouth. His finger teased against the back wall, exploring her depths before finding the spot that made her buck wildly. She mewled, her voice hoarse and filled with a hint of desperation. Her head thrashed from side to side, her nails digging into the sheets as she begged for mercy.

The following two orgasms were quick; Levi was getting eager to plow into her pussy with his dick now. His finger pried her open, and his tongue easily got in and swirled around. At this rate, she was just spread on the bed, twitching miserably, whimpering out of pleasure and the sweet pain it provided. “It’s so pretty when you cry,” he joked as little mewling sounds left her rose lips, and her eyes looked translucent with clamped-out eyelashes by the moisture. “Beg me more.”

Her eyes fluttered open, desperate and pleading. "Please, sir… just fuck me already," she begged. The intensity of her arousal was overwhelming; her body begged for release.

Levi got up to his knees, looking down at her and then between her legs, admiring his own creation with a smirk on his face. Fingers casually unbuckling his belt, letting it hang loosely around his hips as he undid the front button of his black uniform trousers and shamelessly patted the front of his engorged dick, feeling the outline of his erection through the fabric and hissing slightly as he finally got some relief from the pressure. As if he enjoyed forcing himself to enjoy every little bite from his meal, saving the best for last, testing his endurance of resisting to the last limit so each little inch that he plugged in of his dick finally in that slippery hot heaven felt like pure blessing. His left hand, which wasn’t touching himself, caressed her leg that forced to be up because she could no longer do it on his own.

“Ass up, girly,” he said. The command had been processed, but it was as if her body wasn’t replying to her mind. The only thing she could fully process was the movement of the mattress and how cold the bed felt as Levi abandoned it. Lazy steps against the wood planks that gave up little cracking sounds. Striding in front of his dresser, slightly bending, allowing her to have a good view of his ass as he dropped the trousers with the underwear all together and then quickly folded them and threw them over the surface, but he upheld something with his left hand from his clothes that she couldn’t perceive from the perspective of spying on him from her lazily open legs and half-lidded eyes. Fingers rummaged through a couple of things before he got what he had been looking for.

“It seems like I’ve to do fucking everything,” he complained, but there was no hint of actual anger in his voice, stoic as ever as he walked back to the bed with his hard dick on full display. Impossible erect and slightly dripping pre-cum from the tip that was a deep shade of red compared to the rest of his pale body, it involuntarily twitched as if it was happy of being finally free. She bit her bottom lip as she delighted herself with the view before doing a little eye contact; it was a good size, way more than she anticipated. Underneath it his heavy balls and on top a nice happy trail that resembled a signal that indicated anything under his belly button and chiseled abs was also a happy surprise.

Her eyes quickly fell to his left hand, and she noticed the belt from the 3DMG gear. While the reason why he may have kept that was rather obvious, the possibility escaped her rationality. “Wait- You’re not using that-“

“I said.” He just gripped the sides of her hips and flipped her over, “Ass up.”

Knees sank on the bed, “MHMP-“ her complaints were muffled by the bed as avoiding her full upper body falling completely into the mattress was difficult as he gripped her arms.

“I told you, it was your last warning,” Levi said as the belt tied up against her wrists, knotting up safely. Her face buried in the sheets by the pressure of her own weight, “I’ll teach you discipline, little shit.”

Hands massaging her ass cheeks, fingers sinking in the meat as his own knees against her legs forced more space. “HMP!” muffled complaint as swiftly one hand impacted on her ass, heat spreading through the skin and turning it red as the sound echoed in the dead of night. His hand followed, leaving a mark on her ass. The heat traveled through her skin, and she could feel her pussy drenching with need. She whimpered, trying to squirm against the belt, but he held her in place. Another and another, each time made her jerk forward slightly as her breath held in her chest and then puffed out.

“Please…” she whispered as her head turned to a side, resting her cheek on the mattress. “I’ll behave, please.”

Levi hummed, but his hand didn’t leave her ass, caressing the hurt zone softly. “Don’t you think we should make it even?”

The next swat landed on her other cheek, making her eyes water and her body jerk. "Please!" she cried out, her voice hoarse and desperate. Her whole body tensed, every nerve ending screaming in anticipation and desire.

Levi grunted, "Ah. You’re such a crying baby. As all MPs," he growled, rubbing the red splotches with his calloused hand. "You're so wet, begging for my dick. You better be grateful you're getting it."

“Ah-!” she gasped loudly as he slapped her ass again. The grip on her hair pushed her head up, and despite the tug and the strength of the grip, the relief of fresh air filling her lungs finally clouded her mind. His breath impacted on her face from the side as he held her, watching how her mouth hung open, panting softly.

“Thank me for showing you your place,” Levi demanded.

“Thank you, sir,” she whispered, forcing herself to look at him from the side. Locking her pleading eyes with his demanding stare. “Thank you for reminding me of my place, sir.”

Levi hummed satisfied, his fingers weaving into her hair again. "That's my girl," he growled, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “Good girl,” he repeated before placing a kiss on her shoulder blades that were working extra hard by having her hands tied back. He released her hair, gave her ass one last swat, and then positioned himself behind her. She whimpered one last time, face resting on the side as she observed him opening up the foil of the condom carefully and then the subtle hiss as he rolled it down his dick. One hand lazily jerked himself as another reached for her folds and casually ran up and down his thumb through them, spreading the slick evenly.

“You should be riding my cock until I got tired of keeping it wet and warm, yet here I am,” Levi complained as if he wasn’t the one taking each and every decision while shamelessly gripping her tied-up hands from the back to position himself. “Fucking you silly and doing all the shitty job; maybe I should get that promotion,”

‘As if this wasn’t what you wanted.’

But she decided to carry on with the performance, either out of self-preservation, arousal, or the feeling of the cold-wrapped head of his cock running up and down her folds, applying soft pressure at her entrance before withdrawing, had already made her mad. “Thank you, sir.”

The angle of her body, the arch of her back, his hand on her hip, and his subtle hum of approval. Her mouth hung open, and the gasp was fully cushioned by the bed, struggling against her binds. Despite her assumptions, Levi sank in slowly and patiently, despite slipping inside effortlessly.

“Ah- Fuck,” he scoffed out, gritting his teeth as his head fell backward slightly, forcing himself to savor the moment but not completely lose it, gasping slightly. Withdrawing only a bit before thrusting back in, testing the waters. He took a moment to adjust, breathing heavily through his nose, and then began to thrust slowly. Each movement was met with a soft whine from the girl. But the soft, almost loving pace lasted the split of a second, a brief moment of calmness before the storm.

She should have known, at this rate, the second one of his hands abandoned her hip to grip the belt around her tied-back hands and used it as leverage. The tug from the resistance, the forced into place, and one deep thrust that knocked the air out of her lungs. Withdrawing almost all the way, almost only the tip left in before he used her own hands as a grip to push all the way in.

"God damn," he cursed under his breath, pushing in deeper. “You’re so tight,” he muttered, a pleased growl escaping his throat. Meanwhile, she would swear she was trying to breathe more, but the sheets stuck to her face and covered her nose. She tried to cry a little bit less loud because despite her features being buried down, the loud muffled moans each time he plunged all the way in mixed with the loud slapping of the bed frame against the wall must have woken up someone somehow.

“MH-HMP!” Her dignity told her not to sob of how good it feels, how deep it hits, how it felt as if he was trying to break her in half, conserve some dignity, but tears ran down her face of how perfectly synced he set the rhythm, how the friction of her parted knees against the sheets was starting to burn, but it was the perfect mix of how his cock’s head hit that place so brutally sweet.

“Fucking shit, what a pretty view on all fours,” he grunted, his voice sounding less controlled. The lust creeping in as his free thumb pushed his ass cheeks apart, locking his eyes on the way his cock disappeared into the slippery mess of her abused hole at that rate. “Ah-“ Levi let out a subtle moan as if the view was too much to handle, as the sweat glistened on her skin. The only way to not get completely lost in it was to spark it again.

“NH-AH!” she cried out as her legs trembled and her lips gasped for air.

“Best ass inside the walls,” Levi groaned. “And it’s all mine to fuck raw.”

Each thrust, each pull out, and then the deep push - Levi grunted, his own breathing ragged. He gripped the belt, pulling her hands slightly, making her hiss as the pressure against her skin was starting to leave obvious marks. Marks that joined all the rest of them, the still fresh, almost pulsating red handprints on each of her ass cheeks, the shameless bites he left on her shoulder blades each time he bent over to it.

His pace quickened, and so did her tears. She was soaked, her toes curled, and her body shook with each hit. She was a mess, a crying, whiny mess, and yet she was enjoying it, her core clenching around his cock with every movement. Levi growled, and his thrusts became harder, faster, more forceful. A relentless groan escaped him as he slammed into her harder, the friction of her wet core against his shaft nearly driving him insane. His grip on the belt tightened, and he pulled her hands back even further, making her body arch even more. The sound of leather against her skin echoed through the room, the scent of her arousal mingling with the smell of the clean room.

She was close, so close, but Levi stopped suddenly, and she wanted to scream out in frustration, to put an end to this sweet torture. Her knees hurt, her arms hurt, her pussy throbbed with need and abuse when he pulled out of her. No time to think as his pale, sweaty hand appeared from the top, grabbing the pillow and then turning her around forcefully from her shoulder.

“I want to see that fucking pretty face of yours while I fuck you,” Despite the darkness of the night, the room felt like it lighted up for her now with her face finally on display. Pillow under her hips, both legs over his shoulders, and without a minute to spare, he thrust all the way in.

“AH!” her moan echoed in the room as the angle felt too much, her toes curled impossibly, and her legs shook. “Ah- Ah- MHA! Captain-“ Top of her body twisted as her head rolled to the side, tears running down her cheeks, and the restless attention of him on her face was humbling.

“SHHH, quiet, little shit ah-“ He whispered. Sweat dripped from his forehead and from the tips of his dark locks, but he ignored it. “You want the entire fucking scouts to hear you?”

The bed creaked loudly, their bodies merging into one, like an animalistic dance. He gripped her legs more tightly, pushing in and out, setting up a pace that seemed to put both of them into a trance. Few messy soppy kisses to her legs as he had them within reach. Y/N bit her bottom lip trying to suppress her moans, leaving restless whimpers and cries of pleasure “Ah ah ah- hmmm,”. She tried but couldn't contain the sounds, but his dick was hitting her cervix as if that was his glorious duty; he folded her as if squeezing her legs against her bouncing tits was somehow helping her not to feel how his dick filled each corner of her. No, it did not help.

“Stop, stop, stop, almost, fuck-” she begged, pressing her legs against his head and trying to control her body from shaking.

Levi laughed roughly, a sound filled with victory and lust. “Want more? Want me to ruin you completely?”

“AH! YES-!” a loud moan as her back arched, head thrown backwards, and eyelids flickering of how good it felt. Nothing that felt like this, as someone pushed her down on the bed, slamming his cock into her, should be healthy, she concluded. “Quiet,” Levi warned, his voice hoarse. He loved how she clenched around his cock, how her pussy milked him with her orgasm. Frowning deeply as the feeling of her clamping down on his dick was too much to handle, a soft, quiet little moan left his gritted teeth. His abs contorted and his white knuckle grip on the sheets made his arm veins pop up.

“Please, Captain, Ah!” Why bother, the sound of the bed should be enough of a clue for the rest. And what if someone thought she was Captain Levi’s slut? What if she opened her legs wide and steady for him to fuck her restlessly? Who cared? Not her, definitely not her, as the only remaining feeling aside from the scorching heat of the pleasure waves around her body was the tingling sensation of her numbed arms and feet.

“Shut the fuck up,” he insisted, looking down at her. His hand around her neck, two fingers pushed down her parted lips. “I fucking told you to keep quiet.”

“NHG!” She choked on them as Levi kept them there while he lost his rhythm, thrusting into her restlessly and messily.

Her eyes watered up, staring into his as she struggled to breathe. The sweaty, panting man fucking her hard and fast, with an unapologetic expression on his face. She attempted to shake her head, but he wouldn't let her go.

"Shhh," he muttered, panting mouth as sweat ran down his face. "Just let me finish this."

Each thrust seemed to drive him closer to the edge. The friction between his dick and her pussy grew more intense, sending waves of pleasure through him. He couldn't care less about being quiet anymore - he just wanted to come, and he wanted her to see him do it.

"You're gonna cum with me," Levi growled, his voice ragged. "Look at me."

Her eyes locked onto his, filled with a mixture of fear and desire. Levi's eyes bore into hers, making her shiver with each thrust. She let out a soft whimper, unable to deny him anything anymore. The pleasure was too overwhelming to resist.

"That's right," he praised, his grip on her throat tightening slightly. "Cum with me, you little slut." His thrusts grew more desperate, each one driving him closer to the edge. He needed to come, needed to release the tension building up inside him, and she was his outlet. Her pussy clenched around him, milking his cock with every twitch, and he couldn't hold back any longer. Tears ran down her eyes into her ears as so did the saliva around his digits drool down her chin, pleading eyes looking into his begging for him to put this to an end.

“MHM-Hmp,” soft humming whimpers that were wordless pleadings of him letting her finally cum.

"You want it?" Levi snarled, thrusting into her harder. "Fuck, you're so damn tight. You love this, don't you?"

Levi couldn't resist anymore, the sight of her tear-filled eyes and pleading look pushed him over the edge. He growled, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he felt his orgasm approaching. He grinned down at her, his grip on her throat tightening slightly. “Fuck- Aren’t you pretty?” he murmured against her face, almost smiling out of satisfaction.

Both panting in the microspace of the closeness of their faces, breathing each other's ragged puffs of air. Their noses thrusting into each other sometimes as he slammed into her the final times, feeling the wave of pleasure wash over him. Frowned closed eyes, as mewled moans mixed together. Her pussy gripped him tightly, milking him like a vice, and he knew she was cumming too. His eyes met hers, her face a mask of pleasure and pain, and he couldn't help but smirk.

"Not bad," he breathed out, collapsing on top of her. He tried to catch his breath once, twice before he rolled to his side. Finally withdrawing from her slowly and laying flat on his bed next to her. One knee up, arm over his chest, and the other behind his head as a makeshift pillow as his lost eyes glued to the ceiling.

The room was silent except for their heavy breaths, the sweat dripping off their bodies mixing together. His chest raised up and down still erratic as both of them slowly blinked. Y/N lay there, panting heavily, her hands still bound behind her back. She could feel the sweat from Levi's body on her, where their skin touched. Her legs were shaking, and her pussy was still throbbing from the intense experience they just had. Her eyes met his, and she couldn't help but smile weakly.

His body twitched from time to time from the stimulation; her body felt like jelly. Completely boneless. She closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath. But as the cold began to creep in, she contorted uneasily and cleared her throat timidly. “Could you…ehm-“

Levi didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, still catching his breath. After a few moments, as he came out of his lethargic state, he finally spoke. “Oh yeah.” His fingers began to undo the knot around her wrists. “There.” Y/N rubbed her hands, feeling the blood returning to them. Her eyes focused on the deep red lines and bruises around them, and she grimaced uneasily. Her heart still pounded in her chest, and she couldn't help but glance at Levi. He shifted, sitting up and rolling off the used condom before tossing it into the bin close to the nightstand.

He stood up slightly to pick something up from his nightstand and also to push the blanket closer that was at the bottom of the bed. She tugged a bit from the sheets to cover her body as the moment slightly washed away, and nudity felt obscene and unnecessary. Levi let the blanket crumple around his hips as he turned on a cigarette.

"You good?" Levi asked, taking a puff from it and leaving the cage back on the nightstand. He looked at her, examining her bruised hands and the red marks from the ropes. A small frown appeared on his face, but he quickly hid it.

Y/N nodded, biting her lip. The marks on her wrists stung, but she didn't want to complain. She slowly sat up, trying to regulate her breathing. The room was still filled with a mix of their sweat and the scent of their passion. Her eyes caught on his lips, more precisely the cigarette. They were rather new now that they discovered the world outside the walls.

Levi looked back at her, at her silence, and casually took a last puff from it before placing it in her lips. “There, have it,” he offered. “You know how it works, right?”

She placed both fingers around it and smoked patiently as she hummed and nodded in approval. Somehow, that made him scoff entertained. “Of course you do, MPs always get used to luxuries rather quickly.”

As the smoke left her lips, she returned it. Y/N hesitated, still rubbing her wrists. She couldn't help but wonder if she should be honest. "Ehm—" she pondered around how to approach the topic, her voice shaky. "Was that… good enough? For the promotion?”

Levi glanced at her from the corner of his eye as she smoked the cigarette. The smoke swirled around them, marking the end of their intimate moment. He took the cigarette back and flicked the ash away, taking another drag.

"Good enough?" he repeated, a smirk forming on his lips. "Was it?"

She grew nervous as he asked back, not sure what to reply. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, glancing up at him. "I gave you what you wanted?" She asked, her voice soft but curious. She couldn't help but feel a bit vulnerable, lying there with him after their intimate encounter.

He chuckled softly, his gaze returning to the ceiling.

Levi sighed, extinguishing the cigarette in an ashtray. He leaned back against the headboard, crossing his arms. “You want advice for next time?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Let the other person make an offer first, girly. I asked for your support at the camp so I had an excuse to give you a recommendation; I’ve already heard about your struggle from one of your friends. I had the stupid letter written before you even set foot inside this building."

He paused for a moment, turning his head to look at her. The smirk never left his face.

"But since you offered yourself, I wasn’t going to say no.”

Y/N's face flushed red, feeling embarrassed and a bit betrayed. She bit her lip as she looked at Levi, trying to process what he had just said. Then she scoffed offended, pushing him by the shoulder a bit playfully but also with anger.

"So it was all for nothing," she exclaimed, disappointment evident in her voice and obviously irritated. Holding the crumpled sheets against her chest, “You’re an asshole!”

Her eyes closed in reflex as she noticed his hand moving closer to her face, wrinkling her nose and pushing backward in self-defense. But Levi’s index fingers only softly pushed her frown playfully, and he said, “And you’re too naïve for being an MP,” Levi snorted, rolling his eyes.

Levi watched her move, a small smile on his lips. He slid his legs off the bed, sitting on the edge; his body still feeling sore. To her surprise, he grabbed the blanket and threw it over her head playfully.

"You shouldn't have done that," Y/N muttered, her cheeks still flushed. She took the blanket off her head, which only made her hair even more tangled, glaring at him. "I thought you actually meant it."

Levi smirked, standing up and pulling on his pants. "You really thought I'd turn down an offer like that?" he asked, clearly amused. He reached for his shirt, still smirking at her.

"Get some sleep, I don’t use the bed anyways," he said, zipping up his pants. "But don’t get used to, this isn’t a hotel."

He crossed the door of his bedroom and closed it behind him as she mocked his reply and cursed under her breath.

Walking down the corridors, everybody running to be somewhere else. That’s what the capital is like, always a new pub to discover, always a better party to attend than the previous weekend. Hot and dirty like the vicious air of the underground that laid underneath their boots. Her friends made plans as they called out for the week, writing their names and working hours down on the cards at the front desk. Yellow paper flowed under the conflicted air of the reception office, names written down with different calligraphies and a restless pen swinging as it hung from a cord to the forms.

‘Volunteers,’ it read at the top. The last row was empty, but it was quickly filled out.

‘Squad leader: Y/N L/N’

One of her friends who was eagerly talking to the rest turned around and frowned, confused. “Why are you wasting your weekend volunteering for the Scouts,” she asked, frowning in disgust, “You’re already a squad leader, Y/N, don’t sell yourself short.”

Her fingers gracefully placed the pen back on the table as a smile raised on her features. Adjusting her purse around her shoulders, she casually said, “You know, it’s important to remain humble.”

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amaranthineghost · 1 month

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can u do a charles leclerc x reader but the reader is like alexandra’s older sister pls pls pls i love my girl alex so much

HIS HEART THAT LIES WITH THE OTHER GIRL ( charles leclerc. )

charles leclerc x mleux!reader

charles and alexandra are good friends and feelings are starting to develop, but her older sister happened to be the one to catch his eye instead.

warnings: google translate french (please feel free to correct anything that's wrong)

authors note: the request was a little vague so I took some creative liberty, which honestly I enjoyed very much so THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST <333 I love alexandra so much too, she's so gorgeous!!! also taking a break after this because of my thumb (I do have a verstappen imagine already written so that's going to be out soon enough)

BEING AN OLDER SISTER MEANS MAKING SACRIFICES for your younger siblings. she had felt throughout her life that maybe she had been a little too selfish. it felt at times like she was the baby of the two because she didn't act as her role model. moments growing up that she should've taken the fall for alex because that's what it means to be an older sister, but she didn't. she hadn't thought of her younger sister as much as she should've. not a day went by that she hadn't felt guilty for developing feelings for the guy alexandra liked, the guy her sister fell for first.

alexandra had known him for longer than she had, yet she would realize his attention was elsewhere. his frequent trips to the house they both thought were originally because he really liked alex and wanted their parents to like him.

but alexandra was oblivious to where his heart really lied.

stolen glances from across the room, eyes lingering longer than they ever should've to begin with because maybe that's why it started in the first place. his damn, green eyes half-lidded and fluttering lashes every time he blinked, and leaning his head on his hand just staring at her from the other side of the room. a glance over her shoulder told her all she needed to know as she saw the monegasque driver eyeing her up and down. all she could do was turn away and hope alexandra wouldn't notice.

and she wouldn't, for the moment. waving her hand in front of the brunette’s face, he blamed it as being lost in thoughts about strategies for the next race. they laughed, simply joking it off and talking about how he should take a rest from thinking about his career.

but his attention kept slipping back to her. though he tried not to get lost in her appearance, he would fail greatly every time he was even near her. he didn't even have to be in the same room for him to be dazing off, thinking about how she would look better by his side. but he also felt the guilt she had, maybe not the same because he wasn't alexandra's older sibling developing feelings for the guy she liked.

but he had felt guilty. he would be lying if he said that he didn't like the girl at first. she was pretty, for starters, her magnetic smile and radiant personality was what had originally drawn him in. he felt bad to say that wasn't the reason he decided to stay.

it was no doubt alex was a nice girl, in fact the nicest he had ever met in his life and the most welcoming family was right behind her. and that's when he first saw her. after hanging out various times around monaco, occasionally sneaking back to his place, they decided it was time they met her side of the family. only then did alex not realize the mistake she was about to make.

when the door opened, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head, alexandra had no clue at the time, but her sister did. she nervously laughed it off as she stepped aside so alex could pull charles inside with her. the day they met was the closest they ever were in proximity as he walked past her holding the door. the addicting perfume he wore wafted by as he was pulled along into the living room where their parents were.

throughout the whole evening, he struggled to keep his gaze away from her. alexandra wouldn't notice for a long time, and by a long time, she meant it was months.

months of stolen glances, slipping into the kitchen alone with her just to help with dishes because he was ‘such a gentleman,’ but really all he was doing was just an attempt and excuse to get close to her. grazing arms as they stood next to each other despite her assuring him it was fine. every time it occured, which was more often than it should've been, he would somehow get closer.

she didn't mind because over the course of those few months, she had grown quite fond of his gaze on her, or exchanging slight touches whenever they would pass dishes between one another. when he would've acted oblivious to how to clean them when he had first offered to help, sharing laughs that only grew louder every interaction. it had evolved from awkward explanations and silence, to small talk and then casual conversations in their native languages.

but one day, everything changed. a normal conversation turned into something different when he grabbed her wrist with his cold hands covered in water and suds from the dish soap.

his face was serious and she almost didn't hear him when he uttered the words, “je t’aime bien.” (I like you).

“charles.” she only managed his name as she froze with his words, her heart dropping in her chest. this couldn't, shouldn't, be happening. he should like alexandra, not her.

“je sais,” he started as he watched her mouth part, but no words fell from her lips, “mais je t’aime beaucoup.” (I know, but I like you a lot).

“mais ma sœur,” her other hand covered his that held her to him, pursing her lips before continuing, “Elle t’aime bien.” (but my sister, she likes you.)

he nods, muttering in french under his breath stuff that she couldn't hear. she shook her head, slipping her hands from his grasp, going back to the dishes in silence, as did he.

from the door frame, unknown to them, alexandra watched with her arms crossed. when she first saw them together, she was happy they were getting along because she didn't want animosity between the pair, and her older sister never liked the guys she dated before. but she realized far too late the way charles looked at her. the way he looked at her sister was different from the way he looked at her. a spark in his eyes and more creases when he smiled. it was genuine interest as he multitasked the dishes and listened to her talk like he could do it forever. she understood, her sister was like a magnet of different energy, one that alexandra possessed, but not on her sister’s level.

the sight, and hearing his words, in front of her confirmed what she had been suspicious of for weeks. she had finally followed his gaze to her, whether she was sat across the couch from the two, or if she had sauntered off to another room. whenever she would fold laundry with them in the room, how charles would always offer to help. she didn't notice a lot the first time, how her sister gazed between her and charles like she was going to notice his behavior. how bad his folding was, so much so that she had to take the clothes from his hands and show him how to properly do it, and how gentle he handled every item.

it wasn't like he wasn't sweet with alex, but she began to notice how much care he put into his actions that involved her. while it hurt at first because she was so deeply involved with him, she realized that maybe, just maybe, that her sister deserved him more than she did.

because from her view, her older sister gave up everything for her baby sister. even if she didn't recognize it herself, alexandra knew that over the years, she had done more for her and she didn't know how to return the favor at the time. she didn't know what could match the level she set herself.

but seeing the way they genuinely clicked, she knew that this one time, she would be the one to have to make a sacrifice. it didn't mean that her older sister was no longer mature, it just meant that she had a way to pay her back for all she had done. if that meant giving up the guy she had begun to love, she would do it. she would do it to see her sister happy for once because this was the first time in a while that she was. she wanted it to stay that way.

so when early morning came the next day, when charles had long walked out the door the previous night and sent a small smile they thought alex didn't notice, she sat down at the island. arms crossed on the cold granite counters as she sat on the cushioned barstool, watching her sister dance about the kitchen making breakfast.

she knew if she didn't speak up now, she would never, and their love story would've never had the potential to bloom.

“je sais.” (I know).

“que veux-tu dire?” (what do you mean?) her sister chuckled as she poured a glass of orange juice, looking at her with her brow raised as she turned back to the fridge.

“je sais que charles t’aime bien.” (I know charles likes you). she froze, the cold air leaking from the fridge as she stood with the orange juice jug in her hands before regaining composure and continuing on with her actions.

“je lui ai dit non, je sais que tu l'aimes bien,” (I told him no, I know you like him). she stood in front of alexandra, fearing that her sister had grown angry with her, but she knew she couldn't control charles’ feelings, and neither could her sister.

“tu aurais dû dire que tu l'aimais en retour,” (you should have said you liked him back). alexandra leaned closer, her hand raising in a gesture to her that she made a mistake by shying away, “j'irai bien.” (i will be fine).

she shook her head, the glass of orange juice on the counter clutched in her hand, “ce n'est pas juste pour toi.” (it's not fair to you).

“mais il te rend heureux,” (he makes you happy though). she sighed with a small smile, leaning back in the barstool, “dit lui.” (tell him).

“okay,” she threw her hands up in exasperation, reaching for her phone across the counter to text charles and tell him to come over, “il est en route.” (he's on his way).

“bien.” she smiled, standing up and leaving her in the kitchen.

her heart was racing. was she really going to do this? she had turned him down less than a day ago and now she was going to simply accept his abrupt confession. she rubbed her fingers to her temple and sighed, leaning down against the counter as she ate.

she didn't have to wait long to hear a familiar knock pattern he did to alert anyone that it was him.

she walked to the door slowly, like she could lose her balance if she went any quicker. cracking her knuckles with anxiety, she hesitantly opened the door to see his smiling face as if she didn't reject him.

say it. say it.

it repeated in her head as she took a deep breath while he stood confused. her face began to flush and he was wondering when he was going to be let in.

one last deep breath did the trick.

“je vous aime aussi,” (I like you too). she blurted out so quickly, he looked at her with a confused smile and a tilted head.

“qu'est-ce que c'était, chérie?” (what was that, darling?) his voice was teasing and she knew he knew what she said because now he was just messing with her.

“je vous aime aussi.”

“bien,” his hand wrapped around the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hand while their lips collided. her eyes widening in shock as her hands met the sides of his face, teetering on the edge of his hair.

when they finally parted, deep breaths being the only thing heard as they simply smiled giddily at each other like teenagers. he twirled her hair on his finger as he looked at her with such deep admiration, more than she would've ever thought. the sacrifice her younger sister made paid her back ten times over, and the only things she could do was either just hug her in appreciation, or set her up with one of charles’ friends.

—

taglist (found here): @slut4lrh @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @kaa212 @nhlfs @thearchieves

proofread by @foreveralbon <3

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hotvintagepoll · 21 days

Text

Propaganda

Madhubala (Mughal-e-Azam, Barsaat Ki Raat, Mr. & Mrs. '55)—The Venus of India; heart-throb of all who saw her; responsible for the sexual awakening of every single desi lesbian I know (including me!) And my god, she is breathtakingly beautiful. Look at the subtle grace with which she moves, and that smile - the kind of radiant smile that can make you laugh with sheer delight, or cry because of its hidden pain. Those wild curls! That Cupid's bow! The way she tilts back her head and smiles at you with mischief dancing in her eyes! She has a way of looking at the camera that makes you feel she's sharing a private joke just with you; it's something about that quizzical twist of the lips and eyebrows. As an actress, she is inimitable; she seems to effortlessly inhabit roles ranging from a heart-broken courtesan to a laughter-loving socialite. Fun fact : she's had quite the fan following in Greece! Stelios Kazantidis even wrote a song as a tribute to her.

Ingrid Bergman (Gaslight, Casablanca, Notorious)—Where do I even begin with Ingrid Bergman? I fell in love with her with her astounding performance in the 1956 version of Anastasia -- the best Anastasia movie in large part due to her wonderful and touching performance. She's got this amazing, fascinating intensity to her in whatever role she's in. She commits 100%, and she's got this light in whatever she's in that's stunning. She's utterly convincing no matter what she plays, from an amnesiac possible lost princess, from a nun, from a woman taking her revenge on the town that wronged her, to light romantic comedy. She's never missed in any role I've seen her in! Also she became quite the MILF.

This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Madhubala:

An icon of Bollywood, who was well known for her beauty and has continued to inspire performances and songs into the 21st century. She was at times described as "the number one beauty of the Indian screen" and "the biggest star in the world".

SHE IS EVERYTHING AHHH. JUST LOOK AT HER SMILE-

She's been nicknamed the Marilyn Monroe of India and was one of the highest paid actresses in the Hindi film industry (the term Bollywood did not exist yet) during the 1950s. Also an extremely talented dancer and singer

SHE'S JUST SO STUNNING, like seeing her eyes IMMEDIATELY CAPTIVATES YOU, THE DANCING, THE BEAUTY!!!!!!!!! She worked in Bollywood for over 20 years and passed away at a sad early age of 36, BUT THE IMPACT SHE HAD WAS UNMATCHED!!!!!

That sassy sideways glance she does always has me WEAK AT THE KNEES. And when she's making silly faces at the camera to mimic someone ahhhh my gay little heart <3

Ingrid Bergman:

God, she's fantastic. She's both beautiful and a compelling actor who's more than capable of putting the whole movie on her shoulders if necessary. It's worth noting that while her beauty is conventional, she was seen as refreshingly "natural" with more eyebrows and less makeup than many other leading ladies of the time. She's well known for her role in Casablanca, but in Notorious, Spellbound, (both available on archive.org ) and Gaslight (1944) she shows how immensely capable she is.

I mean...she's Ingrid Bergman. I feel like that should be enough, you know? She's physically beautiful (her eyes!) but watching her is like a transcendent experience. Her voice, her expressions... beautiful woman, beautiful actor.

I'm a gay man but even I understand her appeal. I'll watch any movie she shows up in. Gorgeous woman.

Just try and watch her movies without sighing wistfully, then get back to me!

Choosing 1-3 movies where Bergman was at her hottest was agony because, of course, she was always at her hottest. Not just because she was beautiful but because she was absolutely willing to go up against the bs women in Hollywood were constantly dealing with. When exiled from Hollywood for having an affair with Roberto Rossellini, not only did she refuse to apologize at any point, but she went on to say that Hollywood's films had grown stagnant and boring to her. Though she said she appreciated her time working there, she wanted to try new, different techniques (hence starring in Italian neorealist films, working on stage, and acting under directors like Ingmar Bergman). She was not afraid to chase after her artistic ideals and go outside the box regardless of what society had to say about it. From her first movie to her last she killed it. There's so much more to say about Bergman's career and life, but I've already written five million words so I'll stop at that.

ion words so I'll stop at that.

One of the most incredible actors I've ever seen on film. Her facial expressions are so intricate and poignant that I cannot look away. I'm either ace or straight, but damn she made me question that.

SEVEN TIME OSCAR NOMINEE QUEEN. Girl also PULLED, having affairs with famously hot men Gary Cooper and Gregory Peck IN ADDITION to her three marriages...sexy

She has a very natural beauty to her, and she's from Sweden!

She left Hollywood and only became more beautiful. You could drown in her eyes. She can look innocent AND like she's seen it all. She is effortlessly elegant. She's played Joan of Arc (automatically hot) AND was in the movie that coined gaslight as a term. And where would we be without that!

She was known for being a breath of fresh air on the movie scene at the time with her windswept hair, dreamy smile and soulful eyes. I have loved her in every movie I have seen her in - she was just magnetic!

Where do I even start. There's a neighborly quality to this beautiful, talented actress that makes her hotness one of a kind and her looks impossible to forget

With a career spanning five decades, Bergman is often regarded as one of the most influential screen figures in cinematic history. Known for her naturally luminous beauty, Bergman spoke five languages – Swedish, English, German, Italian and French – and acted in each.

She's hot, don't get me wrong, but I've always found her very approachable, like she could easily be a member of my friend group

A lot of the time hotness in a movie is just about words and framing. "You're the most beautiful person here" [vaseline lens] well I sure hope so because that's who you cast. But when, in Casablanca, they call Ingrid Bergman the most beautiful woman in the world... they were not fucking lying. And such a dynamite actor too!! I'd only seen Casablanca up until last year, and there she's confined to love interest. But in Gaslight she was maybe one of the most incredible actors I've ever seen!!!! Goddddd shes so fucking hot and cool.

#ingrid bergman #madhubala #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 5

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pickingupmymercedes · 2 months

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She's here and she's not only ours - Lewis Hamilton

Sequel to She's here and she's ours. Bit of angst, lots of fluff.

pairing: Dad!Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

wordcount: +1k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

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Navigating the journey from being a couple to becoming a family is often likened to entering a whole new world—one filled with unpredictable challenges and profound joys. The radiant 7-month-old girl had effortlessly woven herself into the fabric of your lives, captivating not only you and Lewis but everyone who crossed her path. Yet, adjusting to new routines, shifting priorities, managing emotional and physical changes, and, most crucially, cultivating a deep bond with your child were aspects of parenthood that no book, class, or well-meaning advice had adequately prepared you for.

And so, the real test of parenthood often lay in learning to prioritize.

“Oh my God, she’s growing up so quickly!” Susie exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she entered the living area of your apartment, making a beeline for the giggling toddler seated in her bumbo seat on the kitchen island.

“Please, don’t remind me. Time is flying by too fast already,” you replied, your smile widening as you watched your baby recognize Susie and reach out to be scooped up.

“I’m sorry for dropping by unannounced… I just... I had to know why,” Susie said, her expression curious and concerned.

You had expected people to comment and be surprised, but you hadn’t anticipated the attention coming so soon, even before you and Lewis had a chance to share your news.

“So, I take it everyone at Mercedes already knows?”

“More like everyone on the paddock, probably,” Susie confirmed.

“Do you remember her first few days? When she struggled to gain weight and every day felt like a battle?”

The first inkling that something was amiss came mere hours after you had returned home with your newborn daughter. Her incessant cries and insatiable hunger, even after an hour of breastfeeding, had raised red flags.

You had been warned that the initial days would be challenging—that you were now solely responsible for nourishing a tiny human. So, you soldiered on, suppressing your growing panic and tears, dreading the 40-minute feeding intervals where you’d bite your tongue and cheeks to keep from crying.

You tried every trick in the book—increasing your water intake, warm and cold compresses, dietary changes, pumping between feeds, consulting lactation specialists, and even consuming magic lactation cookies. Yet, your milk supply remained stubbornly low.

The sense of failure weighed heavily on you; your primary role was to nurture your baby, something you had done successfully during pregnancy. Instead of relishing the joys of new motherhood, you felt like a failure, a lesser mother to your daughter and a villain to your husband's fairytale of having kids.

Lewis was acutely aware of your distress and tried to be supportive. Despite knowing, as doctors and specialists had advised, that you needed to supplement with formula for both your daughter’s and your own well-being, he refrained from pressuring you. Every night he would feel as though you were punching him in the face when you went out of his sight to cry, or how his chest would tighten when he carried your screaming daughter in his arms, knowing she needed more, from him and from you. Still, he didn’t have in him to lecture you, yet again, on how that little girl needed more, not when you were giving your life and sanity away for her.

It wasn’t until the day before her second week checkup that you broke down. You knew the scale wasn’t going to give her much more grams than she had the past week, way less than she deserved and the added burden that he would be going for his first race of the season in a couple days had you reaching your breaking point.

Seeing Lewis on the sofa, looking worried and worn-out, you collapsed in front of him, letting your tears flow freely. He held you, comforting you with gentle whispers, and you both agreed that transitioning to formula was for the best. Despite the months of hearing about the benefits of breastfeeding, you had come to understand that sometimes the most challenging part of parenthood was knowing when to stand your ground and make the best choice for your family.

“We don’t want his job to feel like a burden every weekend,” you said.

“So, the Hamiltons will be a staple in the paddocks?” Susie asked, her approving smile revealing her pride.

“Life doesn’t always go as planned, does it?” You shrugged

“The media is going to love that smile,” Susie cooed, her attention directed at the toothy grin of your daughter.

“Yeah… She won’t be only ours, but Lewis needs her as much as she needs him. I guess it’s a small price to pay,” you replied, smiling at your yawning daughter in Susie’s lap, her little hands rubbing her eyes—a clear sign that her naptime was due.

“Please, let me. She still loves Disney songs, right?” Susie absentmindedly asked, already heading towards your daughter’s room, laying the toddler on her cheast and ready to lull her to sleep with a familiar melody. As you watched, you couldn’t help but marvel at how your daughter had already captured so many hearts at such a young age.

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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk

If you'd like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton #formula 1

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tonyspank · 9 months

Text

ALL MINE

Warnings: G!P Reader, jealous jenna + smut (oral r receiving) and bad writing

Summary: It should’ve been clear you were all hers.

A/N: published this late bc i didn’t have my computer lol

Flashing lights, clicking, shouting, and smiling, are what's seen and heard during this event. The Met Gala, of course. Considered one of the most prestigious fashion events in the world, the Met Gala brings together celebrities, designers, and influential figures from various industries.

You fit into one of those roles, including that of your girlfriend, Jenna Ortega. Attending the Met Gala would not only be a thrilling experience for you, but it would also be a testament to Jenna Ortega's rising status in the entertainment industry. You both walk the red carpet, cameras flash, and journalists clamor to capture your stylish outfits and get a glimpse of your relationship, solidifying your place among the elite attendees of this iconic event.

Jenna's elegant gown turns heads, while your dapper suit perfectly complements her style. The excitement in the air is palpable as you step onto the red carpet, ready to immerse yourselves in an evening filled with glamour and unforgettable moments.

You smile at your girlfriend, admiring her confidence as she gracefully poses for the cameras. She was so damn beautiful. From her sparkling eyes to her radiant smile, Jenna exudes a magnetic charm that captivates everyone around her. As you walk hand in hand, you can't help but feel a sense of pride and gratitude for having such an incredible partner by your side. The night is young, and together, you're ready to create memories that will last a lifetime.

You both enter the grand ballroom, greeted by the sound of music and the sight of dazzling decorations. The atmosphere is electric, filled with a buzz of excitement and anticipation. As you make your way through the crowd, you can't help but notice the admiring glances directed towards Jenna. She effortlessly commands attention, her presence lighting up the room. With every step, you feel like you're living in a dream, surrounded by glamour and unforgettable moments.

"I'll be back, baby. I'm going to go say hi to Olivia and Conan," Jenna says, leaning into your ear so you can hear her over the music. You lean down, catching a whiff of her intoxicating perfume, and nod in agreement.

Is that...a cat suit? You think to yourself, watching as it walks past you. As they do so, they take off the top of it, revealing it to be Jared Lato. You can't help but do a double-take, your eyes widening in shock. "What is going on, man?" You mutter to yourself, trying to make sense of the unexpected sight.

Jenna is back, greeting you with a smile before placing her hand on your chest. "I wanna kiss you so badly," she admits, her gaze staring deep into your eyes. You feel your heartbeat increase along with your smile. "Really?"

She hums, moving her hand to the right side of your cheek, and leaning in closer, her lips just inches away from yours. "Then kiss me." You whisper.

You both jump away at the sudden voice, "Y/N!"

You turn around to see your co-star, Sarah, standing there with an apologetic smile on her face. "Sorry to interrupt your moment," she says, "but everyone is looking for you for a photo." You can't help but laugh at the timing of her arrival, though Jenna finds this situation unhumorous.

Jenna's face tightens with frustration as she glances at Sarah, clearly annoyed by the interruption. You quickly compose yourself and assure Sarah that you'll be right there for the photo. "I'll be back, babe. Promise." You press a kiss on her cheek before walking away with Sarah. You can't help but feel a pang of guilt for leaving Jenna behind. You make a mental note to make it up to her later and hope that she understands the demands of the industry.

Sarah was your love interest in your new movie, and the two of you had been spending a lot of time together on set. Despite the "chemistry"between you and Sarah, you would always be loyal to Jenna, your long-time girlfriend. She was truly the love of your life, and you didn't want anyone but her.

Given that you'd have to remind Sarah at times that the romance was just through your character, not in real life, she didn't like to take hints, always trying to blur the lines between fiction and reality. It became increasingly challenging to maintain a professional boundary with Sarah, as she constantly sought opportunities to deepen your connection off-screen.

She'd enjoy the fact that your fans would ship her more than you and Jenna, always mentioning your "chemistry off set" in an interview when it couldn't be further from the truth. Regardless of your efforts to maintain a platonic relationship, Sarah's persistent attempts to intertwine fiction and reality made it difficult to navigate the boundaries of professionalism.

You didn't want to freak out on her due to the fact that you have seven more long months of working together on this project. So, you tried your best to put on fake smiles and ignore her delusions.

"We look so cute!" Sarah says, pointing at the two of you in the cast photo. Well, all the cast members that were invited to the Met Gala. You chuckle awkwardly, trying to downplay the comment. "Yeah, it's a nice picture," you respond nonchalantly, hoping to divert the conversation away from her fantasies.

"I should get back to my girlfriend," you say, subtly hinting that you have other commitments and responsibilities outside of work. Sarah nods understandingly, but you can tell she's disappointed. "Okay...will you be at the afterparty?"

You hesitate for a moment, considering your options. "I'm not sure yet," you reply, keeping your plans vague. "I'll have to see how the night goes." Sarah's face lights up with anticipation, but you quickly walk away, not wanting to give her false hope.

Jenna was upset. That much was obvious. But what did you do exactly? You rack your brain, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that may have caused Jenna's upset. You replay the events of the evening in your mind, searching for any potential missteps or misunderstandings.

You shake your head, leaving the booth of the club where the Met Gala was hosting the afterparty. You walk to the bar, ordering a stiff drink to help clear your thoughts. You don't notice Jenna is sipping on her own drink, watching you at the bar from the booth.

"Hey, stranger." Sarah says. She places a hand on your bicep, squeezing it. You were about to yell at the girl, but you realize she's obviously drunk. Her words slur together as she tries to maintain her balance. You take a deep breath, deciding to give her the benefit of the doubt and offer her a helping hand instead. "Where's Sadie?"

"Ion know?" Sarah laughs, placing her drink down on the bar. "She was...I don't know." You let out a sigh, placing a hand on Sarah's waist to stop her from fumbling over herself. As you steady Sarah, you can't help but wonder if Sadie is also somewhere in the same state.

"I like you, Y/N...so much. What does Jenna have that I don't?" You look into Sarah's eyes, appreciating her honesty but feeling a twitch of sadness for the girl. "Sarah, it's not about what Jenna has or doesn't have. It's about the connection we share and the moments we've built together." As you speak, you can't help but hope that Sarah understands the depth of your feelings for her.

"Please, just one...one time." Her hand reaches for your cheek, but a sharp voice halts her movements. "Y/N, we're leaving. Now." Jenna. Jenna clenches her jaw, trying her best to stay professional and calm in front of everyone.

"Jenna—" You were about to explain Sarah's state, but the sharp look she sends you makes you shut up immediately. Jenna's stern expression leaves you no choice but to comply with her demand. You walk out of the afterparty, following behind Jenna and Enrique like a lost puppy.

As the three of you sit in the black SUV, you take out your phone to send a quick text to Sadie, asking her to find Sarah before anything bad happens. You also text Sarah, letting her know that you had to leave abruptly and apologizing for not being able to explain the situation. You hope that when she wakes up she'll appreciate it, forgetting the embarrassing moment that happened not too long ago.

Jenna watches your fingers type out a message with her eyes like a hawk. She leans in closer, curiosity evident on her face. Enrique continues to talk about the outfits he saw at the Met Gala, not noticing Jenna's growing interest in your conversation with Sarah.

Jenna finally interrupts Enrique, "Who are you texting?" she asks, her voice laced with suspicion. You hesitate for a moment, debating whether or not to share the details with Jenna. "Uh, just... a friend," you reply vaguely, not wanting to delve into the specifics.

Jenna's eyebrows furrow, sensing your evasiveness. "Just a friend? Why are you being so secretive?" she presses, her suspicion growing stronger. You offer a reassuring smile, hoping to alleviate her concerns. "It's nothing serious, just a personal matter that I need to handle privately," you explain gently, hoping she understands and respects your boundaries.

You watch her eyebrows twitch up. As if her name is Barry Allen, she quickly snatches your phone from your hand, eager to uncover any hidden messages or clues. Her actions catch you off guard, and you feel a surprised and frustrated.

"Jenna, please respect my privacy," you say firmly, trying to retrieve your phone from her grasp. However, she seems determined to find answers and continues scrolling through your messages, making you realize the need for a more assertive approach to setting boundaries with her.

You take a deep breath, realizing that Jenna's curiosity has crossed a line. With a stern voice, you firmly declare, "Jenna, I understand your curiosity, but invading my privacy is not acceptable." Jenna looks up, and you can see a hint of regret in her eyes as she hands back your phone.

You turn your phone face down, looking out the window, not bothering to talk to her or her stylist. Enrique's eyes widen, sensing the tension between the two of you. He decides it's best if he stays silent, distracting himself with his phone.

When you arrive at your hotel room, you take a deep breath, not wanting anything more than to shower and go straight to bed. The long day has taken a toll on you, along with the tense atmosphere between you and your girlfriend.

You start taking off your belt buckle, struggling to undo the stubborn clasp. Frustration builds as you realize how exhausted you truly are, causing your hands to tremble slightly. You decide to move to your blazer instead, hoping that removing a layer of clothing will provide some relief.

As you unbutton the blazer, Jenna begins to speak. "Baby, I'm sorry, okay?" Her voice is filled with sincerity, but you can still sense the lingering tension. You pause for a moment, contemplating her words, before responding with a tired sigh, "I appreciate your apology, Jenna. We can talk about it tomorrow when we're both less exhausted."

She frowns while walking toward you, "Please. I got jealous, okay? It's annoying to see everyone else flirting with you all the time. I know it's not your fault, but it still gets to me sometimes." You nod understandingly, realizing that her jealousy stems from her own insecurities. "I understand where you're coming from, Jenna. But you know more than anyone that I am committed to you and our relationship."

You begin unbuttoning your black button-up, revealing your black tank to. The sight of your exposed tank top brings a small smile to Jenna's face. "I appreciate that , and I trust you completely," she says softly. "Sometimes, I just need a reminder that we're in this together."

Your hands go back to your belt, still unable to take it off. "Let me make it up to you, Y/N." You hum in response, your attention on your belt. Jenna's hands replace yours, undoing your belt with ease. As she removes your belt, her touch sends a shiver down your spine. "I want to show you how much you mean to me," she whispers, her voice filled with genuine love.

Before you can ask how, her fingers tug at your zipper, slowly pulling it down. The anticipation builds as she leans in closer, her warm breath grazing your ear. "But I also want you to remember you're all mine, okay, love?," she murmurs, pressing a kiss on your ear.

You feel a rush of desire as her words sink in, and your pants feel tighter against your skin. The intensity of her touch and the passion in her voice leave you craving more. With each moment that passes, you become more aware of the depth of her love for you and the power she holds over your heart.

Jenna sinks to her knees, her eyes locked with yours, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. She slowly trails her fingers up your thighs, sending waves down your spine. You can't help but give in to the alluring spell she has cast over you as the lust grows.

She pulls your pants down along with your boxers, revealing your desire, eager and ready for her touch. Her hands wrap around your cock, her touch firm yet gentle, as she begins to stroke you with expert precision. The intensity of her gaze never wavers, fueling the fire of desire that courses through your veins.

You bite your lip, your knees buckling as she adds her tongue to the mix, sending waves of pleasure cascading through your body. Every touch, every stroke, and every flick of her tongue only intensifies the desire that consumes you, making it impossible to resist her seductive power.

"Do you think I'll be able to fit it all in my mouth this time?" Her voice drips with a tantalizing mixture of confidence and mischief, heightening the anticipation that hangs heavy in the air. As she teasingly locks eyes with you, a mischievous smile dances across her lips, leaving you breathless with anticipation for what is to come.

The room feels charged with electricity as you watch her slowly take you in, her tongue flicking out to wet her lips. Your heart races, your breath becomes shallow, and you can feel the pulsating ache of desire growing within you. Her head begins to bop, trying her best to take in every inch, her eyes never leaving yours.

Your hand flies to her hair, gripping it gently as you guide her movements, the sensation of her warm mouth sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Fuck, Jenna...take it."

The heat of the moment builds, and you find yourself lost in the raw connection between you, unable to tear your gaze away from her captivating eyes. As her lips continue to glide up and down your length, you feel the tension building within you, the pleasure mounting with every gentle suck and flick of her tongue.

The feeling of her soft lips against your skin is electric, each stroke of her mouth pushing you closer to the edge. In that moment, nothing else matters but the two of you, lost in an intimate dance of desire and passion.

"I'm so close, Jen. Shiiit..." You rasp out, throwing your head back, before quickly locking eyes with your girlfriend. She increases her pace, matching your intensity as she continues to pleasure you. All that's heard in the room are the sounds of your combined moans, heightening the intensity of the moment.

As the pleasure intensifies, you feel your body trembling, teetering on the brink of release. You start moving your hips, fucking her throat, lost in the overwhelming pleasure that courses through your veins. "I'm cumming!" you groan, exploding in your girlfriend's mouth. She eagerly swallows every drop, her eyes locked with yours as she savors the taste.

"Do you forgive me for tonight?" You tiredly nod at her words. "You're forgiven," you manage to whisper, still catching your breath. She gently wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

#reader insert #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #tonyspank #wattpad #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna x reader #jenna ortega x gn!reader #jenna ortega x g!p reader #jenna ortega smut #jenna x g!p reader #jenna x y/n

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thedroneranger · 5 months

Text

Dine Out

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Synopsis: Mrs. Seresin packs a special surprise for Jake's first day as Lieutenant Commander.

Notes: Part of the To-do List collection.

Warnings: 18+ only; smut.

Word count: 2.6k.

Busy making sure all his pins were absolutely straight, he didn’t notice as she snuck up behind him. She felt his shoulders drop as she wrapped her arms around his waist and forced herself underneath his arm.

That radiant smile appeared as he accepted her by his side. “Good morning.” Her voice was still thick with sleep, which made Jake immediately picture her wrapped in their sheets.

“Mornin’, baby.” He kissed the top of her head and she leaned into his side. She watched him in the mirror. It was a rare time she got to see his candid expression as he looked at her and paid no attention to the mirror. She then looked up at him and they exchanged smiles. He pressed a kiss to her lips.

She slipped out from under his arm, breaking the lip-lock, and stood between him and the mirror. She inspected his uniform, making sure it was wrinkle free, pins straight, collar flat.

Jake took a deep breath, looking past her into the mirror. She returned to his side and also gazed in the mirror. “I didn’t think a couple extra pins could make you hotter.” She kissed his bicep as she leaned into his arm.

He cracked a smile and leaned down. “That’s called a rank kink, honey,” he explained before again pressing his lips to hers. She gripped his arm tighter so he couldn’t break the kiss. Jake melted into her but they both pulled away, suddenly realizing they had no idea of the time.

“I’m going to make your lunch. Can’t have you late for your first day.” She untangled herself and let her hand trail down his arm to his palm. She squeezed it before stepping away. Jake sighed longingly as he watched the bottoms of her ass cheeks jiggle as she walked.

She was wearing one of her own crewneck t-shirts, which wasn’t quite long enough to cover her backside. He liked the view but also liked when she wore his shirts. They were oversized, so she didn’t bother with underwear. Given her shirt also didn’t cover her crotch, she was wearing a lacy thong—just enough fabric to be considered underwear.

By the time Jake came downstairs, his lunch and coffee were waiting on the counter, and she’d ventured into the laundry room to fold clothes. Jake peeked around the counter to find her softly singing along to the playlist she selected while she folded his shirts. She also had changed into workout gear, ready to hit the gym after Jake left.

Jake’s fingers grazed her hip as he stood behind her. She turned her head to meet his lips as he pressed his front to her back. “Mhmm, have a good day,” she said.

“You, too.” He gave her one more kiss before separating from her. She playfully snapped the shirt she was about to fold, striking his ass. She knew it stung—the snap was loud and he stopped in his tracks. Her lip was between her teeth and mischief in her eyes as he turned to meet her gaze with feigned annoyance.

“Bye!” She quickly became interested in the creases as she folded the shirt.

Day 1 was going well. Jake led his first briefing, which went without a hitch. He was glad his squadron respected him enough not to heckle him, especially on his first day as a lieutenant commander.

He was glad when lunchtime came so he could take 30 minutes to joke around with the squad. Jake definitely needed to ease into his new leadership role. Going from a co-worker to a superior would be an adjustment that took time.

Jake already knew his lunch was leftover carbonara. His mouth watered as he thought about the handmade pasta he was about to eat. Unzipping his lunch bag, he froze. Jake blinked and closed the lid. After a few seconds, he reopened it. His eyes did not deceive him. Atop the Tupperware lie the lacy panties Mrs. Seresin was wearing this morning.

He didn’t dare take them out. In slight duress, he almost missed the note. He plucked it out of the bag to read it.

Your office. Noon.

Shit. It was 12:05. Jake damn near fell out of his seat as he gathered his things and sprinted walked with purpose to his office. When he reached the door, he took a minute to collect himself. With a deep breath, he twisted the knob and slipped inside.

Jake was met with red bottoms kicked up on the corner of his desk. Mrs. Seresin had made herself at home, reading the contents of one of the folders neatly stacked beside the blotter. She dropped it to look at him. He locked the door as they stared at each other.

“Missing something?” Her panties dangled from his finger. A smile graced her lips as she dropped her feet to the floor and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the oak desktop.

Jake was a simple man, and his eyes sank to the neckline of her shirt. He couldn’t see the entire outfit, but he knew exactly which one she was wearing. One of his favorites, a pencil skirt with a structured button-down.

The first time he saw her in this outfit, he couldn’t keep his hands off her. Since then, she’d worn it a handful of times to fulfill Jake’s librarian fantasies.

“I thought you might want a treat for lunch on your first day,” she replied. Eyes still on Jake, she pushed herself out of his chair and walked around the desk. She leaned against the front edge and began to undo the rest of the buttons on her blouse. “Lieutenant Commander.”

Fuck, his new title sounded even better when it came out of her mouth. Jake’s cock twitched. He began to walk toward her. She stood to her full height as she pulled the tails of her shirt from her high-waisted skirt. Even in heels, their height difference required her to tilt her head back to meet Jake’s gaze.

“Sometimes I worry these encounters are just really, really vivid dreams.” The hint of his accent, always thicker when he’s horny, sent shivers down her spine. Jake leaned down and pressed a kiss to the hinge of her jaw, and then the side of her neck. She shimmied her shirt to her elbows to expose her shoulders. Jake took advantage of the visible skin, kissing her shoulder caps.

He dropped her panties beside her on the desk. “Turn around.” Jake’s voice was soft yet stern. He had pulled away just enough that they could exchange glances as she made a show of facing the desk. Jake took her shirt as though he were helping her out of a jacket and tossed it onto his desk chair.

As she planted her palms on the hardwood, she was sure to shift her hips so her backside grazed Jake’s crotch. He pressed his full body against her as he leaned over top of her. He placed a kiss to her hairline, followed by another on her temple.

Meanwhile, his hands traveled down her sides and along her hips. Finally, his fingers came to the zipper on the side of her skirt. Slowly, he pulled it as he continued to pepper her with kisses.

Mrs. Seresin didn’t realize she had been holding her breath. A gasp escaped her when Jake yanked the fabric and it pooled around her ankles. She felt the smirk on Jake’s lips as he kissed her jaw one more time.

She bit her lip in anticipation as Jake sank to his knees behind her. He smirked when her tiny “good girl” tattoo appeared. His thumb swiped over it as he knelt down. He tapped each of her ankles for her to lift her feet so he could completely discard her skirt.

“Wider,” he directed. She compiled, sliding her feet further apart. Softly, he wrapped his hands around her calves and slid them up the backs of her legs to her ass. She bit back moans as Jake left wet kisses along the same path.

She whimpered as his index finger skimmed between her folds. “Awe, baby,” he cooed. “You’re so wet for your Lieutenant Commander,” he said. Jake ran his fingers along each lip, spreading her arousal. Then he quickly swiped a digit from her clit to her entrance. She shuttered, her knees giving slightly. Jake smirked.

“I don’t want to rush you, but lunchtime is going to be done by the time you dive in,” she said over her shoulder.

An open palm met her ass cheek. She bit her lip and dipped her head to remain silent. “Lunch ends when I say it does.” Mrs. Seresin felt the heat in her low belly build just from the tone of his voice.

Jake lovingly bit the round of her ass before he sank his face between her folds. He laved her clit and dipped his tongue into her. She gasped and shifted to her elbows, allowing him better access.

Spreading her and holding her open with the pads of his thumbs, Jake continued to lap her core, alternating between dipping his tongue into her and licking her bundle of nerves. She did her best to stifle her moans. His fingers replaced his mouth as he spoke. “If you don’t be quiet, those panties are going to end up in your mouth,” Jake warned.

Without warning, Jake’s palm met her ass again. She bit her lip to keep quiet, and Jake smirked as he felt her clench around his fingers. He sank his teeth into her ass cheek as he continued to pump his fingers.

She bounced her hips, falling in sync with him. “That’s it,” he commended. Jake got to his feet, and as quick as possible, he undid his pants and lowered them just enough to expose himself.

Mrs. Seresin let herself melt onto his desk, cheek and chest flush against it, as Jake slid into her. He ran a hand along the exposed section of her spine until his fingers were at the nape of her neck. She enjoyed the light pressure. Jake listened to her practically purring as he languidly pumped. Each snap of his hips drove hers into the edge of the desk.

Then his hand moved to her arm, skimming along the limb until his fingers entwined with hers. She pulled their hands so they were tucked against her body. Jake trailed wet kisses along her shoulders and neck, while he fed her praises.

Her eyes squeezed shut as her orgasm built. She was so close. So close, but she wanted it a little rougher. Before she realized what she was saying, she was mid-sentence. “Is that all you got, Lieutenant Commander?”

Jake smirked. He untwined his hand from hers and placed it back at the nape of her neck, pressing her harder onto the desk. “I’ve got whatever you want, baby.” She bit back a whine each time his hips snapped into her. Jake was doing his best to hold out until she came, but every time she clenched around him, his resolve melted a little.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath as she squeezed him again. A thought popped into his mind. “Knee.” Knowingly, Mrs. Seresin hiked her knee onto the desk, and Jake pinned it there with his arm.

He hissed, enjoying the new angle, and Mrs. Seresin was biting her lip so hard she was shocked she hadn’t drawn blood. However, she was successful in remaining silent as Jake continued to pound into her.

This was it. Jake's release imminent, he moved his hand from her neck to her clit. The rough feeling of his fingers helped push her over the edge. Jake let himself go, so they came close together. She released her lip as Jake’s motions slowed to a halt. His cock pulsed a few more times.

His body came to rest over hers. She could feel his pins digging into her back—it made her smile. After a few minutes of postcotial bliss, Jake’s body heat disappeared. Mrs. Seresin moaned as he helped her get up.

Once his clothes were back on and in order, he helped her dress. She was buttoning her shirt when he grabbed her panties from the desk. “I want you to wear these home.” He knelt and held them out.

A hand on his shoulder she put a foot through each leg hole. Then Jake pulled them up as he stood. He held her by the waist for a lingering kiss. She pulled away before it could become more. She smiled at him as she picked up her skirt and put it back, completing her outfit.

“Did you enjoy lunch, Lieutenant Commander?” She winked at him. He extended a hand, which she took it and allowed him to pull her back into a hug.

“I did.” He pecked her lips. “We may have to make it a regular thing.”

She pretended to mull it over. “I’m sure I can pencil you in.” They both smiled, and he kissed her again.

They both froze as the doorknob jiggled, followed by a sharp knock. Jake quickly unlocked and opened the door. Vice Admiral Beau “Cyclone” Simpson breezed in.

“Admiral.” Jake stood at attention.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Mrs. Seresin. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Seresin.” Cyclone’s voice was surprised. Also airer, and much softer, than when he spoke to anyone in uniform.

“Good afternoon, Admiral,” she responded.

“What brings you to base?” He squared himself to her, taking full interest.

She smiled. “I wanted to see the Lieutenant Commander’s new digs and assess what we could do to spruce it up a bit.”

“Mhmm,” he responded. An idea clearly percolating. “Next time you're at North Island, I should have you look at my office. It’s a little stale.”

“I’d love to, Admiral.” She gave him a sweet smile. “Well, I should let you two get to work.” Mrs. Seresin closed the gap between her and Jake. She pecked his cheek. “I’ll see you both for dinner tonight?” The men nodded. “Great! I’m making short rib lasagna,” she noted as she segued to the door.

Cyclone winked at her, thanking her for the heads up about the menu. It’d make pairing a wine much easier.

He and Jake had always gotten along and grew to be friends. Each time he came to Lemoore, they were sure to invite the Admiral over for dinner.

Jake excused himself to walk his wife to her vehicle. “Smooth exit,” she whispered as they walked.

“Thank god you’re a charmer.” He gently squeezed her ass.

“Jake!” She stumbled a bit. However, Jake was right behind her to keep her from falling. He put a hand on her waist to steady her and placed a kiss on her cheek from behind.

They walked the rest of the way to the vehicle in silence. “Thank you.” She turned as they approached the driver’s side. She gave him one more kiss, and he opened the door for her to slide into her seat. He then shut it as she started the engine. He shook his head as he watched her drive away.

On the walk back to his office, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened his calendar. A month from today, he added an event, made it recurring, and sent the invite.

After Admiral Simpson had left his office, Jake was alone, sifting through paperwork. He looked over when his phone lit up with a notification. He smirked as he read accepted next to her name. Their next lunch date couldn’t come soon enough.

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daycourtofficial · 2 months

Text

It’s so quiet in the world tonight

Lucien x reader

Summary: you and Lucien having a quiet night at home, soaking in the peace, discussing how things will change when your baby arrives

Author’s note: kicking off my 1k celebration with my boy Lulu!!!

(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)

“I’m just excited to see a babe growing up around here,” Helion said, looking at your belly. Your father in law harbored a lot of regret about not being around for Lucien as a babe and not knowing that he was his until a few decades ago.

It took a long time, but they have a lovely bond and get along extremely well. Granted, neither of them had a hard time getting along with most.

Except Beron.

You smile at your father in law, excited to see him take on the role of grandfather.

“Except the name ‘grandfather’ will make me feel so ancient. Is there any other name I could use?”

He had been going back and forth ever since you told him the news. If anyone could make your pregnancy about themselves, it was Helion. You didn’t mind, though. It was much better than nursemaids and various citizens who insisted on asking how you were at all hours of the day.

It was kind of them, and you didn’t resent them that much, but sometimes you felt more like a traveling carnival attraction carrying the next heir of Day instead of a mother carrying her babe.

You couldn’t blame them - it was exciting. They didn’t get to cherish Lucien as he grew up, and so now they were taking the time to let you know how adored the two of you were amongst the citizens of Day.

Lucien was so loved in Day, and he had no issues making his interest in you known. In fact, one of his first acts as a member of Day’s royal court was courting you.

It made you incredibly glad you had declined Helion’s many previous offers to warm his bed.

A little over a decade into your marriage, the two of you decided to forego your fertility tonic, leaving things up to the Mother to decide. Six years later, you found yourself with a swollen belly, an excited husband, and two antsy high lords.

Eris’s frequent visits to his mother and brother made him the first person you had confided in about your pregnancy. It had been an accident, really. You had only figured it out a few hours earlier, and he happened to be the first person you saw.

It just came tumbling out of your mouth.

Eris had actually been extraordinarily kind following your outburst, after his initial taunt of “is this how you greet people now, sister?”

Lucien found you crying on Eris’s shoulder a few hours later, his brother’s well-tailored jacket tracked with your makeup. If Eris noticed, he didn’t let on.

“I didn’t know your first act as High Lord was to make my wife cry,” Lucien said, striding towards the two of you huddled on a couch.

Eris waves his hand in the air, “I managed to sign two treaties and lift an embargo before I came here to antagonize your wife. She wasn’t first on my list, brother.”

Lucien sits on the other side of you, placing his hand gently on your back, rubbing soothing circles.

“What’s wrong, sunshine? Was Eris’s company so troublesome it reduced you to tears?”

You crack a smile as Eris lifts your head off of his shoulder, delicately placing it on Lucien’s shoulder.

“How you wound me, Lu. I’ll be sending you the bill to have my jacket cleaned.”

Lucien’s surprise at Eris’s departure doesn’t last long, as he looks back to you, your tears having stalled for a moment.

“I- Lu, I- I’m pregnant.”

His eyes light up, and you can tell he loses control for a moment because his skin glows a radiant glow, his red hair almost blinding. He grabs your hands, placing them in his, as he asks, “is that why you were crying?”

You nod your head, the action causing a pain throughout your head.

“Are you worried?” He asks, concern on his features.

You stare into his eyes, his mechanical one whirring taking in everything about you. The look on his face told you your concerns were ill-founded, but they still tumbled out of your mouth.

“How are we going to teach them how to read? I’ve never taught anyone how to read.”

His brows furrow, and his eyes light with amusement.

“I think we have a few minutes before teaching them how to read, I’m sure we can figure something out.”

He pauses, cutting you off before you can speak again, “and I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to figure out how to teach them how to count.”

You and Lucien had sat on that couch for hours, all of your worries melting away with your husband’s comforting words.

And the realization from Lu that you could, in fact, hire a tutor to teach the babe how to read.

The two of you had retired to your rooms after dinner with Helion, where he made zero progress with names for your babe to call him.

The name “Papa Hehe” was what led the two of you to excuse yourselves so you could laugh in private over how much thought he was putting into the names.

Lucien helped you out of your dress, pulling it over your head.

“You know,” he says, putting the dress away and picking up one of your nightgowns, “my taking your dress off is how we ended up here.”

You push his chest lightly, “Lu, I’m so swollen I can hardly walk down the corridors.”

His smirk turns feline, “I never said you had to move.”

“I’m due any day now,” you tell him.

“I heard that pleasure can help induce labor,” he whispers in your ear, tucking hair behind it.

You laugh into Lucien’s mouth as he kisses you, holding you as close as the bump would allow him to. You let him guide you to the bed, and he helps you lay down on your back, your hair adorning the pillow behind you in a halo.

Lucien’s hand caressed your swollen belly, receiving a light kick in response.

“And pray tell, what is my baby girl doing awake at this hour?”

You roll your eyes, giving up ages ago on correcting him. Neither of you had any inkling as to the sex, but Lucien was convinced it was a babygirl.

“She got confused and thought we lived in the Night Court.”

Lucien chuckles as he drags his hands up your thigh, delicately placing kisses up your calf and up your thigh, your moans spurring him on further.

And damn it all if Lucien wasn’t right about his baby girl, who arrived about twelve hours later.

#acotar fanfiction #lucien x reader #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien x y/n #lucien vanserra x y/n #lucien x you #lucien vanserra x you

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jester-lover · 1 year

Text

Dorm Leaders with a Girlfriend who wears Suits

Warnings: fluff, very flustered boys, insecurity (not from the reader), talks of gender roles/identity, whoever reads this is so cool, reader is so hot and confident (did I mention she’s so hot)

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle has grown up in a certain structure, men lead, women follow, women lead, sons follow

When he sees you, dressed to the nines, not a care for the stares of others; something in him snapped

Head over heels

Considering his rule following tendencies, he is immensely attracted to the rebellious flair of a woman in a suit

You tend to notice him staring at you whenever you wear your male uniform

You always wink at him, reminding him you can see him too

Strawberry Riddle

“Um- well I wasn’t staring! It’s just- you look really pretty…”

Leona Kingscholar

Yes.

PLEASE.

His familial structure is very matriarchal, so seeing you, a confident woman just hits something in his soul

Bro, if you wear the male uniform, he will (politely) ask you to model the Savannaclaw uniform

If you do he’s literally on one knee

Girlfriend? I think you mean WIFE

Also he’s a lil afraid of you considering your confidence, you have a lot of power over people

Trying so hard to be all suave and cool and still such a sucker for you it’s funny

“Woah. I didn’t think anyone could make it work better than me.”

Azul Ashengrotto

He definitely thought you were a competitor at first

Who else would have such smooth banter, such playful glances, than an enemy trying to hinder his business!!

You definitely ask him out because he’s so in his own head, when you do, it’s like the wires in his brain connect finally

Also has a staring problem, the way that you walk with complete confidence, absolute disregard for anyone who speaks ill of you; he dreams of being like that

You lovelovelove pulling him in by his tie for a kiss, because he definitely places his hands on your shoulders all startled

“That lipstick suits you… What?! You think it’ll suit me too?! Don’t just s-say things like that!”

Kalim Al-Asim

Wowie!

This is the best combo ever, smiley pretty boy and a woman with endless personality

He literally buys you anything you want, new suit? Down. Makeup perfectly matching a new suit? Amazing! New shoes with a new suit? Take his credit card!

Kalim literally wants you to have anything you could possibly desire, so

Will buy both of you matching suits for galas and other occasions, and if anyone has the GALL to look down in you for your clothes, he’ll just leave along with you.

The public disgrace that would happen to that person for insulting the s/o of a member of the affluent Al-Asim family would be TREMENDOUS

“You look absolutely radiant. We look so cool!”

Vil Shoenheit

Masculine Wife, Feminine Husband.

He is so down you don’t even get it.

You help him out of the car? It’s trending on magicam in seconds.

Put your coat on a puddle so he can walk past without damaging his shoes? The paparazzi is loving it.

He adores your dynamic, the confidence you have matched his, and it contrasts with the opposite fashion you wear

“Dearest, the rose pinned to your lapel is a perfect match for the color of my overcoat, we will look stunning!”

Idia Shroud

404 error

Idia saw you once and he literally froze on the spot, you walked around like you owned the school!

The crisp edges of your suit reminded him of the butler from one of his favorite anime, so he was immediately nervous to talk to you

When you start dating, he begins to wonder what cosplays you would look good in,

Spy, demon butler, vampire princess, the possibilities are endless with your androgynous fashion

This one time, you took off your blazer, so you just wore a button up and slacks, and you looked so domestic, so old Hollywood beautiful, he burst into red flames

“I can’t believe you settled for someone like me. WHAT-what??! Stop calling me handsome! You really mean it? Wow…I- “

Malleus Draconia

Malleus loves this so much

The sheer power you exude, walking into every room and demanding attention, feminine mixed with masculine creating beauty beyond mankind

He’s obviously obsessed

On your nightly walks, he notes how you choose to take off the blazer in preference of a cardigan, he loves looking at little changes in your wardrobe

Mal is an old being, he’s seen fashion evolve, but I love to think he enjoys 40s/50s era fashion, the way that you choose to portray that style, he loves even more

As you grow more comfortable around one another, more affectionate, malleus will enjoy fixing your tie and buttoning your vests, small acts of domesticity feel so meaningful

He is another who will buy you expensive clothes, his future queen deserves the best

“My love, your tie is crooked. Perhaps you simply wanted me to fix it hm? Such a sly move…”

Welcome back to J sucks at dialogue and cries over pretty women.

But honestly I wrote this bc I want to feel more confident, and I want you to feel more confident!!!! I see a good amount of insecure reader posts, which are very good and comforting! But I would love to see more confident reader inserts. Thanks for reading, women in suits are amazing, and goodbye.

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ghouljams · 9 months

Note

Okok idk if you’ve done anything for könig for the medieval au but I can think of no better role for him than the royal executioner. Given a wide berth by all as he is technically forgiven for his job of killing, but beheading a bound prisoner is hardly the stuff of legend, it doesn’t inspire the same awe in folk. König helplessly enamored with a soft maiden reader and well aware of the blood on his hands so he skulks after her, a looming shadow she can’t seem to shake.

I know there's another writer who has an executioner König that I fucking adore, which has made me hesitant to write him in that role. However it's such a good fit for him. My sister is very upset that I made König a hunter and not an executioner, and I have another ask about König being a king put up for our lovely Princess's hand in marriage(Ghost's big mad about that, ahhhh act 2).

But yeah I like König being big and scary, gotta keep the nasty boy nasty. So I'm gonna write something for executioner König

It started so simply, so plainly, that it could hardly even be called unremarkable. Forgettable, was perhaps the better word. König is sure you must have forgotten it, at least.

Executions are an exact science. If you can call it that. There is a certain way that things must be done to ensure that death has been achieved. Rule one: No drinking on the job, not after last time. Rule two: Always aim for the center of the neck, severing the spinal column ensure the pain doesn't last past what is needed. Rule three: Do not hesitate, self explanatory. Rule four: There will always be a lot of blood, it's best to get out of the way quickly once the ax has hit its mark.

König had been washing his hands of said blood in one of the water spouts around town, when he first saw you. Your eyes wide with fear at the sight of him. You looked like the sunset, something painted by the hands of God himself, so soft and radiant as you turned and fled. He looked after you a moment longer than it took you to disappear around the corner before going back to his grim work. He stripped off his mask to rinse the blood from that as well.

This was treated with wax, the blood and water sliding from it much easier than it did his calloused hands. He could never get all the blood off on his first attempt. Maybe he should wear gloves, but he could never feel the ax as well and leather stained. He ran one short fingernail under another to clean the congealing blood out and stopped. König turned to look down at you, your hands clasped together tightly, your eyes still sparkling with fright.

You held your hand out to him, and he tilt his head to look down at it curiously. The familiar scent and off-white color of soap, just a little piece of it resting on your palm. He was careful taking it from you, shaking the water off his hand before plucking it from your palm. Despite his best efforts to prevent you the displeasure a small puddle of red tinged water formed where the soap previously sat.

"Thank you," He mumbled, turning back to his work so he didn't have to see you wipe your hand off.

"I'm sorry," You told him, in so unfamiliar a tone he didn't think he'd ever heard one like it. Pity was something he was used to, executioners were often looked on with some form of it, but this- this wasn't pity. He turned to ask what you were sorry for, but you were already gone. Quick on your feet. Like a little rabbit.

You're jumpy like a rabbit too. Cute. Actually that part might be on him. You may have forgotten your kindness --did you forget? he hopes you didn't-- but König certainly didn't. He's keeping an eye on you. Moving unseen isn't exactly König's strong suit, but he can do it with the right motivation. Motivation like following you around town. He just wants to see you. Wants to see you smile and laugh and hear your sweet voice. Wants to see you interact with normal people without fear in your eyes.

He has to be careful though, the last few times you noticed him you tensed up. Breath held and hands clenched like that might prevent him from seeing you. Sweet scared little thing. Was it the blood on his hands that scared you? The violence he enacted? Was it his size, his strength, the heat of his gaze? Do you imagine his hands on your soft skin like he does?

Well, maybe not like he does. Your imagination is likely less... appreciative than his, more violent. Too bad.

That's exactly why he has to steal these glimpses of you. He doesn't want to frighten you, although you are beautiful even when you look on his in fear. You're so much more without him. To think music could ever sound as sweet as your laughter, that the sun could ever shine as bright as your smile. He tips his head to watch you, a wonder of divine creation, terribly kind in your every movement.

You crouch to help an older woman pick up a basket of heavy produce, wave off her thanks with a smile and settle the goods on a nearby stall. You pull a child out of the way of a cart, and wave at the driver without a speck of malice. Your kindness is rewarded in turn, an extra few apples for your coin, a warm slice of fresh bread for your walk, people stop you to chat with friendly smiles and kind words.

And yet. And yet he never sees you with anyone. Never sees you walking arm in arm with a friend or a lover, even a parent. You're alone in your crowd of kind acquaintances.

He can't follow you when you leave town. There aren't enough places to hide, not enough corners to stay shadowed behind. That doesn't stop him from watching you as you walk down the road. You don't go far, just far enough to find a comfortable place on the stone wall lining one side of the dirt path. You settle your shopping basket on the ground beside your feet and finally look back at him.

König's breath seizes in his chest. You're still so tense as you stare at him, as you unclench one of your tight fists and pat the wall next to you. He glances behind him to see if there's perhaps a friend of yours he'd missed. No, when he looks back you're still staring just as fiercely determined at him as you had been.

He's cautious with his approach, nervous as the way your eyes track his, your head tipping to accommodate his height the closer he gets. Until he's stood in front of you, your wide eyes still blinking up at him. You pat the wall again, wordlessly asking for his company.

"Are you hungry?" You ask when before he's barely sat down. König pauses, watches you bend to pull an apple from your basket. "You've been following me all day, you must be." You pull a knife from your pocket to slice the fruit and König holds out his hand.

"Let me," He tells you. You hesitate, staring at his -clean, he swears they're clean, he'll never dirty yours again- hands. You settle the apple in his rough palm and offer him the knife. König shakes his head, and grips the apple between his hands, twisting it sharply to break it neatly in half. He offers you one.

"Thank you," You offer him half of a smile, take the offered half and bite into it. Clean enough to touch your lips, König thinks. Or maybe you just don't care about the stains. "It's lovely out isn't it?" You make quiet conversation.

"You are," He breathes, and you bite your lip, your smile blossoming around your best intentions to stop it.

Maybe you were alone for him, to give him the space to get close to you. A rabbit baiting the big bad wolf.

#Spec is that you #könig x reader #könig fanfiction #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig #executioner!König #medieval au #Reader absolutely scared shitless of König: I gotta be nice to this guy so he doesn't kill me #König delusional: they're in love with me #cod x reader #x reader #könig mw2

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punkpandapatrixk · 9 months

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🥀Sad Bitch Lilith ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

We live in a world where being too kind, too sweet, too compassionate and forgiving could often lead to disastrous outcomes. This is after all a world where narcissists, sociopaths and psychopaths run free without much repercussion. A sweet girl can’t be pleasant all the time; a goddess needs to carry a machete from time to time.

What most people have yet to grasp, is that Venus and Lilith quite literally make each side of the Divine Femininity coin. Venus represents Light and Lilith represents Dark; even then, they could easily switch roles depending on the situation at hand. Only if you want—you are allowed to embody both Venus and Lilith in their respective glory.

Do you really want to become that kind of idiot who sends love and light to those who have done you much harm? You don’t have to force yourself to be the bigger person in a conflict that was created for the sole purpose of stripping you of power and autonomy. Enablers and gaslighters enforce that kind of idea so you make room for their terrible behaviour. WAKE. UP.

So many women in this world have at some point been a Sad Bitch Lilith at the hands of psychopaths, sociopaths and narcs in whatever role they play in their lives. Hopefully this reading serves to help you turn the narrative into SAVAGE LILITH. The Dark Moon Goddess who delights in revenge for she knows in it lies EDUCATION for the imbeciles who have foolishly disrespected her kind, sweet, friendly, feminine qualities. The Dark Feminine retorts,

‘RESPECT ME OR GET DESTROYED.’

Black Moon Lilith is a Goddess of Redemption. She takes into her own hands matters of delivering nightmare to those who have wronged her. She calculates in the dark. She doesn’t ask for permission. She's a wild woman. She punishes swiftly. She moves history.

She is Karma.

Karma paid in revenge glow up, BITCH🌹

SONG: I’ll Make You Cry by aespa

MOVIE: Gone Girl (2014)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – When My Tears Silently Turn to Diamonds

the way your beauty irritates people – 10 of Pentacles Rx

VIBE: I’m Unhappy by aespa

You’re somebody who’s perceived as abundant and superfluous by others. It’s super obvious from the way you look, the way you carry yourself, or even your family background. You just… exude a rich vibe—whether or not you actually come from old money. Damn, you just have it in you. It’s something you were born with. Even if you didn’t come from a rich background, or even if right now, for some reason you’re struggling with resources, no, honey, listen: it’s your fucking AURA.

People can see either you’re blessed since birth—with money, beauty, talents, whatever—or they simply can smell that you’re gonna make it big someday. Most people you’ve known in your environment, do not like this about you at all. It’s their own fault though, why in the name of fuck are they always comparing themselves to you? Did you ask for that? Never. But they’re always imagining how nice it would be in your shoes without knowing for realz your life story.

They project their insecurities at you even when you’ve never wanted to make anybody feel that way because of your presence. In many ways, I think you’ve tried so hard to make you look ordinary, or in some cases, you’ve tried to show a lot of care and generosity. You’ve tried to make everybody see that you’re just like them even if your circumstances are not exactly the same. It never worked though—maybe it’s even backfired.

Your abundance… is simply irritating to them because you’re surrounded by motherfucking losers, babe.

silencing the negative self-talk – XIX The Sun

VIBE: ASAP by NewJeans

You should be done feeling bad for being radiant. It’s not your fault other people are ugly. It’s not your responsibility that other people don’t have money. How are you at fault when a good company chooses you for the talents and skills you’ve developed which they need? Seriously, it’s none of your business if others wouldn’t work on themselves to be considered an amazing creature in society. You keep being you, honey. You and I know you’re always refining your natural talents and deepening your base knowledge. You’re truly a hustler even if others don’t see that.

When you’re not saddened or confused by others’ terrible attitude towards your blessings, your mindset is really positive like the Sun itself. Of all the Piles, I think your heart is the purest🤣You’re more generous than people give you credit for. You’re always trying to make everyone feel welcomed. If you were a party host, you’d make sure every single person has a good time in ways that suit them. You’re that attentive.

Unfortunately, your Light, indeed babe, seems to attract a lot of harmful bugs. No matter how much you give, it’ll never be enough and nothing you do will stop the gossip and badmouthing and backstabbing. Because essentially, these bottom-feeders are already bitter about their own pathetic lives. They hate you as much as they hate themselves for not having the courage to feel deserving of the abundance you’ve worked hard for.

S A V A G E – 4 of Wands

VIBE: Hurt by NewJeans

‘Leave them at the bottom of the grave they dug for you.’ – something I saw on Pinterest

Because you’re too kind, too giving, I think you’re the type of person who wouldn’t have the heart to leave people behind where they are miserable. Umm… you need to grow up a little bit more and finally see for yourself how pointless that is. You’re just one person, what makes you think you could save everybody? I hope you don’t yourself turn into a megalomania who thinks others wouldn’t survive without your charity.

Leave that toxic environment and you will regenerate yourself. As you do so, you become a vibrational match to some kind of a Soul Tribe situation where you’ll be met with people who aren’t the least bit parasitic. You’ve got to believe you’re deserving of a symbiosis mutualistic kind of relationships and friendships for them to manifest, OK?

As for the anklebiters? Hurt them with your leaving them. Hurt them with your totally ignoring and blocking them. I’m not saying you have to throw a brick at them for all the disrespect they’ve dealt on you. I’m sure your change of attitude will hurt the living shit out of them. And one day, when you’re famous and important, they’ll see you, alright. They’ll see you for all that you’ve always been capable of doing and they’ll regret they didn’t treat you better. And they’ll wallow in immense pain for not having access to you anymore. Nevermore. Leave them hurting in their shame and regrets. That’ll kill them😈

SWEET MOTHER OF REVENGE 🔻💙

VILLAIN ORIGIN STORY – Gold Physician (Herodotus)

Reclaiming Lilith – Priestess of Prosperity

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – You See This Glow-Up? NOW You Jelly

the way your beauty irritates people – Knight of Wands Rx

VIBE: 28 Reasons by Seulgi

First and foremost, you’re a damn rare beauty. I don’t care if you don’t think that highly of your physical appearance; bitch, you’re goddamn attractive. Take it or leave it. Your problem is that you act like you’re ordinary and that irritates the living shit out of your enemies because they think you’re fake. ‘How dare you act ordinary when you’re obviously that pretty. Are you mocking us??’ Yeah… Why the fuck are you surrounded by ordinary beauties? Have you got Venus squaring Pluto? Huehue~

Anyway, in any situation you’re an eye candy and everybody can see that. Maybe you’re dense enough to not see how others see you, but all these friends of yours, they’re hyper aware of how all eyes are on you the moment you slightly move. You stir the air in a way no other human does. It’s because there’s passion and authenticity in you that make you vibrate on a much higher level than most people. Really, you’re a rare gem but this could get you in danger a lot.

You’re the type of beauty that invites enemies actually because of your friendly disposition. Like, there’s this annoying gap that irritates people in ways even they don’t really understand. The gap between your intense beauty/attraction and your general politeness. You’re soft spoken, cheerful and helpful. For the most part, you’re a ball of joy and if you’re a girl, boys like you A LOT. You’re fun. You’re cool. You’re smart and creative. A lot funnier than people assume. You’re the IT GIRL. But the envious ones call you a pick-me LMAO

Envious girls put a lot of effort into brandishing you as a trashy character but by doing that, even the boys could see who’s the real G here. And well, wouldn’t that annoy their trashy asses further?🤷🏻‍♀️They’re literally ruining their own image by trying to ruin you🤡

silencing the negative self-talk – 8 of Wands Rx

VIBE: Forgive Me by BoA

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s have a heart-to-heart. Honey, you’ve got to stop pretending like you’re a sweet Venus all the time. You’re not. You and I know that. Deep down, there’s an evil bitch in you that wants to play with fire. I think you’ve tried to curb your Lilith practically your entire Life. Perhaps on a subconscious level you know this of you and you want to avert your eyes from looking at your Lilith. That’s how you seem fake sometimes.

Highly intuitive people can smell the Devil in you, but you act like you’re an angel all the time. And that’s annoying because your Lilith is literally a men-magnet and this often takes away attention from other girls but you act all innocent💩I’m not saying it’s your fault—I sense that for the most part, you don’t even consciously want this intense attention; I’m saying there’s this mechanism about how you’re perceived by your environment.

Aaand why do you think that is? Of course, because subconsciously, you want all of this attention. You always want to be wanted and liked and desired. You crave that shit so bad because when you were tinier you felt unseen. Un-understood. Unappreciated. Now, doesn’t matter who or how, you just want everybody to see you and want you, but you’re not gonna give them back any of that attention. You want to be unattainable. Actually, you are unattainable. You don’t easily let people get close to you. You don’t want people in your personal space. You just want the a t t e n t i o n.

S A V A G E – 5 of Wands Rx

VIBE: Savage by aespa

You know, this is all just a lil game to you. Deep down, you’re fighting this urge to snatch everybody’s boyfriends and husbands. Sometimes you get frightened by your evil desires because if you were unhinged, you’d want all these married people to want you more than they want their spouses. It’s not even that serious. You just want to come on top of everybody. You’re secretly envious of these little bitches who are—probably—loved by their spouses. And even when you can see there’s no Love in that connection, you’re still jealous that someone wants to commit themselves to these undeserving mediocre asses.

You feel all alone in this world. People are only nice to you because of your looks or whatever else that’s not even that important. And people are also nasty to you because of your looks and everything else that’s not even that important. It’s been one insanely difficult Life for you. You’re sad. You feel abandoned and unwanted in spite of all the shallow praises. And there’s this quiet rage inside that wants to punish everyone for not caring about the REAL you.

Bitch, grow up a little bit and you’ll see that low-quality people get married to their fellow mediocre asses. You don’t play in the same dimension as them so don’t lower your standards🤭One day you’ll see who’s gonna end up divorced and miserable because they all married the wrong people! Nah, that’s not even the important part LMAO The important part is when you’re the one marrying a Soul Mate after all of your spiritual and psychological glow-up that made you a vibrational match to so much REAL LOVE and you’re surrounded by all this money and beauty.

You never needed their kind of a glow-up; you were born perfection. You needed a different kind of confidence to SLAY and be very happy.

SWEET MOTHER OF REVENGE 🔻❤️

VILLAIN ORIGIN STORY – Red Magus (Edward Kelly)

Reclaiming Lilith – Priestess of Happiness

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – You Thought I’d Give It All to You

the way your beauty irritates people – 2 of Cups

VIBE: The Weekend by BIBI

You’re this absolutely weird mix of devil and angel in one body. You attract ALL kinds of people. Young, old. Men, women. Animals and toddlers are either terrified by you or LOVE you to oblivion. People always want something from you, right? They either simp for you or act like you owe them something—usually when their simping doesn’t pay off LMAO That’s really weird… Your entire existence is weird. I like that😉

You’re definitely giving, charitable, although in reality you’re really selective with whom you allow in your personal space. ‘Just because I’m friendly with you doesn’t mean I wanna be friends with you,’ kind of vibe. Nevertheless, people are silly, and they cultivate this weird intense desire within them. They build all these unnatural expectations around you having to give or share with them.

In their sick minds, they demand this. When you don’t humour them their sick demands, they get ULTRA bitter, probably even resentful. And then they seek to destroy you. Weird. Weird. Weird. You never even intended to lead them on. People are crazy when you’re around. The worst part is, they never even had your best interest at heart. They just wanted something from you—energy, attention, favouritism, gentle caress, who the hell cares.

How much Neptunian/Pisces/12th House energy do you have for you to be this way?😷HAHAH

silencing the negative self-talk – Page of Pentacles

VIBE: KAZINO by BIBI

Unlike the other Piles, you don’t seem to have a lot of neg self-talk. You’re sassy, bitchy, and you embrace your negative qualities because you see the value in them. Society ain’t perfect either anyway, what’s so wrong in being me the way that I am? You go, girlie~ You’re a total believer in revenge and vengeance. You ARE the definition of Lilith incarnate. Were you born with it? Did you develop yourself to be this way? Who the fuck knows—that’s your very own secret ingredient~

You’d rather let the mortals hurt and rot in their own stupidity than let yourself be the one to hurt. Unless you’re defending those you care about, you’re never sustaining hurt. You hurl lemons at all your enemies before they could get closer. Any step closer, you squirt that lemon in their eyes. Their fault. You warned them already! ‘Hey, I’m nice but I ain’t no saint,’ is your philosophy.

And when you’re really, really, really done with someone’s bullshit, you ain’t afraid to spill some blood. You’re gonna be smart about it though. You plan quietly and attack unexpectedly with a demonic angel smile on your face. ‘Send a message to your god; you’ve messed with the wrong bitch, BITCH.’

You are a menace to society👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

S A V A G E – XII The Hanged Man Rx

VIBE: Vengeance by BIBI

See, you are one sneaky bitch. Though you are a fucking menace to society, you know how to act righteous. You also know how to act like the victim should the occasion arise—but this is rare because you like to appear on top of everyone. Still, you’re quite masterful at creating sad or horrendous backstories that would justify your wreaking havoc upon your enemies, or even just society at large. Your sense of morality is kinda shrewd LMAO And I think that’s because you’ve been at the mercy of someone else’s shrewd behaviour before, probably when you were a lot younger.

That made you realise you never wanted to be the victim anymore. If anything, you’ll terrorise everyone so you maintain your own safety. WHEW. You’ve got your trust broken in authority. Their rules didn’t protect you or even hurt you. So, you believe new rules should be made in their place. You make your own rules and you don’t care if that hurts some people. You have this dicktionary explaining what kinds of dickhead are worth sacrificing to your new-world agenda.

🤣🤣🤣You’re CRAZY!

I believe in you. I think you could change the world. But I think you’re largely only interested in your own world. The whole world? That’s too much trouble. You aren’t keen on destroying your small queendom/kingdom in exchange for world domination—you smart like that. Keep at that. WHOA.

SWEET MOTHER OF REVENGE 🔻🧡

VILLAIN ORIGIN STORY – Green Magus (John Dee)

Reclaiming Lilith – Priestess of Divination

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

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