#you still have to make the choice for yourself

[suhlogic]

smile for the camera [kmg x fem!oc]

mingyu x camgirl! oc [roommates] 

summary: little did you know mingyu has been a subscriber of your onlyfans account and has a little crush on you. 

warnings: dom!mingyu, sub!fem reader, unprotected sex, choking kink, size kink, cum eating, mingyu’s a bit possessive, corruption kink, slight voyeurism

you and mingyu have been  roommates for a  year now, it was an unexpected thing for you to have a guy roommate but you really had no choice as you were out of living options to live in since the school year was beginning so when you saw mingyu kim's post on twitter through your mutual friend seokmin, you grabbed the chance and thank god he actually agreed to such an arrangement. it honestly helped that you two were in the same social circle as it was less awkward but if it came to your dynamics, you and mingyu simply got closer as the months went by. you've also grown to know that he is organized, knows his household chores, and is a gentleman on top of being 6'2 feet tall, absolutely handsome and ripped due to  consistently working out, and his golden skin that just  looks so dreamy whenever the sunlight seeps through your shared apartment. he was also funny and extroverted which you needed and never failed to always comfort you after a long day. as the days went on, he began to grow on you. but little did he know, whenever he was out for his late night workouts you were actually an onlyfans streamer. you started to stream as a hobby, a side hustle your best friend, karina recommended that you do since you were bored out of your mind and no men were just ever enough for you to be satisfied. plus, it was good money and was raking in what you needed to pay the bills for the shared apartment although you and mingyu split the bills.  

lately, you find yourself growing more attracted to mingyu. you didn't know if it was just the dry spell that was luring you into him like a moth to a flame  or the fact that he was a godsend in your messy life. surely, it couldn't just be purely platonic as he slowly became the guy you constantly fantasized about while touching yourself across your body wishing it was his hands doing all the work instead whenever you'd stream and film content. on the other hand, mingyu knew your little secret. you'd think he was still away for hours on end spending dinner with your other friends after hitting the gym but he was always on the other side of the wall, hearing your moans and screams as he jacked himself off every night longing to feel his huge dick inside you. imagining what it'd be like to have you under his touch like you were being set ablaze only screaming and moaning for him out of sheer pleasure. whenever mingyu would see you walk around in tight shorts and oversized shirts in the morning with no underwear in sight, it'd take all of his patience not to fuck you hard in every spot of your place and it wasn't something you both were strangers to—hell, you were always catching him shirtless and it really was a sight to be gazing at. you just hoped and prayed that your feelings won't prevail and make you do something stupid. 

friday nights began with your usual routine of dressing up in your cutest pink lingerie and doing your makeup as you put on a matching lace mask that resembled a butterfly. after being done, you set up your stream and the vibrator and dildo you were to use later on for your show. "hey guys, how's everyone doing? i hope your week went well," you happily greeted your viewers as they began to enter your livestream.

[clumsypup0697]: hi angel i missed you 

[clumsypup0697]: have you been busy?

[g4m3bo1]: want to see all of you so bad baby

the last comment on your stream made you blush and teased whoever user g4m3bo1 was on the other end of the screen. "aw, you missed me that much gameboy?" you smirk as you began to take off the straps of your bra and began to fondle with your tits. 

[clumsypup0697]: fuck, you're so hot i wish i was doing that to you 

[g4m3bo1]: youre driving me crazy baby 

clumsypup0697 tipped $8

[sebcherries]: need company? i can help😉

as your hands began to travel lower to your wet heat, you moved backward to lay yourself on your pillow to give them a view of your slick pussy and teased yourself with your fingers rubbing your folds and the bud of your clit. your moans became louder as you began to add a third digit inside, eyes closed in euphoria wishing it was mingyu doing such a thing to you. you began to insert your dildo and the sound of coins clinking which meant that the tips began to rake in on your stream. you didn't care if your moans were getting louder or if your hottie of a roommate already arrived. 

sebcherries tipped $20

clumsypup0697 tipped $35

g4mebo1 tipped $40

ho3shi tipped $35

on the other side of the wall, mingyu decided to cancel his friday night plans to go outside. so he just decided to go on his favorite camgirl's stream room who went by her online name— strawberryviolet. he's been a huge fan since stumbling across her channel just purely deciding to jack off his stress away one night. as he watched the girl slide the huge dildo in and out of her tight wetness, he couldn't help but jerk his huge dick off faster thinking how y/n's pussy would feel instead. as the moans got louder on the stream, so did the moans from the other room. he rushed to clean himself up and exit the stream he was watching. but holy fuck, he was met with a sight to behold— his roommate was a camgirl all along, and he was her fan. the difference was that she just had a mask on. 

"holy shit!l" he exclaimed, snapping you out of your pleasure. you quickly turned off your stream and rushed to cover yourself up in front of mingyu, "what the hell are you doing here, gyu?" you asked in frustration. "had nothing better to do but turns out i'm roommates with a cam girl?" he smirks as he leaned against your door. shirtless just wesring his boxers, his huge manhood still definitely erect the way it's almost bulging. "i can explain, please..." you pleaded but he just smiled again. "strip for me," he said with a demanding tone and so you did, baring it all for your roommate you're clearly growing feelings for.  "you're so fucking obedient huh?" he walks over to you as his fingers ghost over your face and lips which sent goosebumps down your spine. mingyu pulled you into a deep kiss with your tongues tied, "gyu, please fuck me..." you begged. "baby, you have no idea how long i've fucking waited..." he says as he picks you up and carries you to your bed, carefully laying you down as he left kisses and hickeys all over your body. "so fuckin' gorgeous, can't believe you're showing this off to the whole world...'s all mine," he whispers as he began to suck on your left boob while fondling the other one with his hand. "been watching your streams for fuckin months now..always would jack off to you every damn night thinking about how i'd fuck my hot roommate," he says  gazing up at you with eyes that had sin painted all over them as he slowly began to kiss you down to your clit, his teasing leaving you on edge. "be patient baby, we got all night." his breath fans against your pussy. he strip your panties off with his teeth and continues to eat you out with his skilled tongue like he craved for you so desperately. his toned forearms and huge hands gripping the back of your thighs securing you in his hold as he began to suck and create random figures on your clit. his pace going faster as your moans got louder, mingyu looked like such a fucking god in between your  thighs.  all you could do was tug on his hair as he ate you out. 

"i'm close baby please...let me cum," you stare at him with puppy eyes as he hovered on top of you to kiss you again. "not yet angel, i need to cum inside you," he says through gritted teeth as he grabbed you by the neck with both his hands to kiss you once more.  mingyu then began to flip you over on all fours without pulling out his dick inside your wet and slick pussy. "so fuckin gorgeous," he slowly buries himself inside you to the hilt and goes slow as his hand has both of your hands gripped against your lower back while the other holds your waist down. you never knew heaven could exist until you felt every inch of him inside you, making sure you're screaming and moaning for him only within the confines of your own bedroom. "gyu, please let me cum, gonna be so good for you..." you whine out as he slaps your butt cheek and squeezes your ass while he thrusts his huge dick inside you. as mingyu begins to pound into you harder and faster, your eyes were rolling to the back of your head in pleasure. he then flips you over into a missionary position and puts your legs over his shoulders and pounds you slowly, the stretch teasing your pussy much more different from earlier. "gyu, please go faster..." you whine, almost running out of words to say while you were fondling with your huge tits as he rubbed your clit with the pad of his thumb. mingyu looks so fucking hot on top of you— you thought,  his short cropped hair driving you insane as his sculpted body glistens like honey due to the sweat, brows furrowed focused on wanting you to reach your high. you grab onto his arms as you felt his thrusts get sloppier and his hand tightening around your neck, just choking you right. you thought mingyu would stop there but immediately takes his dick out of you and dives his head in between your legs and eats you out once more, "want you to cum on my tongue baby, yeah?" he smirks as he begins to lick figure eights on your labia and sucks your clit til you reached your first high.  

as he hovers on top of you, he flashes you a devilish grin and says, "so fucking sweet, just like how i thought" and you put your arms around his neck and pull him in for a long passionate kiss. mingyu inserts his length once again inside you and thrusts at a faster pace repeatedly as you feel him getting sloppy once more inside, "angel, i'm so fucking close...let me cum inside yeah?" he moans as he kisses your neck, sucking on it which would definitely leave a hickey later on. "yes, please daddy...i'm yours.." you moan out and it sends him over the edge as you feel his cum gush inside of you and some of it trickling down your legs. the two of you come down from your high and he lays on the bed beside you for a while and pulls you close against his broad chest wrapping his arms around your naked body, "how long have you known?" you asked looking up at him as your head was laid on his chest while he ran his fingers through your hair, "well, i've been your fan since i almost walked in on you a few months back" he says gently while he smiled at you, flashing his sharp canines that you always adored. the two of you clean up, well mostly mingyu because you could barely walk and drift off into slumber, naked bodies entangled under the sheets yet the thought of him asking you "what are we?" floats in his mind as he closes his eyes. 

#kim mingyu #mingyu imagine #mingyu smut #svt imagines #svt fic #svt smut

[norizzsainz]

🌶️ NFY : BACK TO SQUARE ONE

[ carlos sainz x singer!fem!reader ] [ wc ] 0.9k

[ summary ] carlos' and y/n's breakup comes as a surprise to many of their friends. no one ever thought the couple would ever break up, but alas, y/n was always ready to do whatever was best for the love of her life — even if it meant breaking up with him.

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━━━━ MARCH 08, 2024 : AIRPORT, UNITED ARAB EMIRATES

everything was happening too quickly for you to process anything at all.

an hour ago, you had just released your international tour dates for your concerts.

half an hour later, you find out that carlos has appendicitis and needs immediate surgery for it.

an hour after that, you get a call from charles asking you to fly down to saudi arabia because everyone was being denied permission to visit carlos.

“wait, what? why do you need me to come if no one is allowed to visit him?”

“because carlos is still under anesthesia and can’t make choices for himself. they won’t let anyone but his guardian meet him. and you are his guardian, y/n. remember?”

thankfully, you were already in abu dhabi for a promo event, which meant you were only three hours away from where carlos was.

i just need to be in and out. i won’t stay long. you told yourself, swearing that you wouldn’t spend any extra time there. i will go, remove myself as his guardian, and come back; that’s all.

on your way over, you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation, finding everything amusing.

so much for breaking up and trying to be strangers.

━━━━ MARCH 08, 2024 : HOSPITAL, SAUDI ARABIA

as you walked through the halls, the urgency of the situation seemed more real, causing you to quicken your steps.

carlos was hurt. he exerted himself while he was hurt. why would he push himself so much like this?

charles was right behind you, matching your fast pace as you rushed to the vip lounge of the hospital.

“carlos sainz,” you told the front desk. “i am his guardian, y/n l/n.”

the woman politely smiled, nodding. “come with me, miss l/n. he’s out of surgery now. i will take you to go see him.” she stood from her seat, attempting to guide you to his room.

”i just, uh, i’m here to sign the papers. to provide permission for his family to see him,” you quickly said.

“oh.” the receptionist’s smile fell, looking confused. “so, you will not be seeing the patient?”

charles noted the change in the woman’s tone. “she will! she just wants to make sure his family can also see him‌,” he intervened, giving you a look.

“great! you can sign these papers here and we can go see the patient.”

you threw a wide-eyed look at charles as you signed the papers; the brunet avoiding eye-contact with you.

“thank you.” you smiled at the receptionist as you handed over the papers.

charles offered a slight smile as the receptionist guided you towards carlos’ room, wordlessly apologizing for the situation he put you in.

you winced as you noticed your ex-boyfriend’s family standing outside his room, just wanting to bury yourself in the ground.

you turned towards his mother, feeling bad. “i’m seriously sorry, mama.” you bit your lip when the name slipped out, not noticing how the elder woman’s smile widened at your words.

reyes waved off your apology, smiling widely. “you don’t have to apologise. it’s not like you knew about this.” you sighed as you heard her assuring words.

“it’s been months so i thought he must’ve removed me as his guardian.” you winced, noting the way sainz sr glared at you.

“what are we waiting for now? i need to see my son.” sainz sr tapped his foot, arms crossed as he raised his brows at you.

you didn't waste time in opening the door for your ex’s family, letting them go through.

just as you tried to step away, charles pushed you inside, ushering you forward before closing the door behind him.

“what the hell are you doing?” you whisper-yelled, brows furrowed. “let me leave! this is not what you promised!”

before charles could reason his actions, you froze as you heard your name being called by a very familiar voice.

“mi amor? what are you doing over there?” carlos' words were slurred, the anesthesia still wearing off him. “come here, please.”

you stared at your feet, trying to play it off. you were in a dangerous territory right now, with every moment being difficult for you.

ana pulled on your arm, dragging you towards her brother. your gaze widened as you made eye-contact with your ex.

“h-hello. hi.”

“carina.” carlos gave you a woozy smile, a sparkle in his eyes as he looked at you. “i'm very happy to see you, amor.”

you nodded in a rush. “i need to go now, though. i'm busy,” you stammered, noting the way sainz sr continued to glare at you.

“like, right now?”

“yes, right now, carlos.”

your mind was running wild at what sainz sr was thinking of this interaction that you couldn't properly look at carlos.

because if you did, you would've definitely seen it coming.

without a warning, carlos pulled on your arm, bringing your face closer to him.

and just like that, without a warning, he placed his lips upon yours, taking you by surprise.

you jerked your head away as soon as you processed what was happening, slapping your hands over your mouth.

“i swear that wasn't—i didn't…” you tried to explain yourself to your ex's family who looked just as surprised.

“that anesthesia must be strong as fuck,” ana commented in awe. “i wonder if i can get some of that, too.”

you were a stuttering mess as you tried to explain yourself, just opting to run out of the room after saying your goodbyes.

“i'll just leave. bye, mr sainz. bye, mama. bye, ana. fuck you, charles.”

you sprinted out the door before anyone could say anything, not stopping until you were outside the hospital.

no one had run after you and you were thankful for that, because the last thing you wanted was to talk about what had just happened.

so much for thinking i was doing well and moving on. now i'm back to square one. fuck.

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#[📝] works #f1 x reader #f1 #carlos imagines #carlos scenarios #carlos sainz imagines #carlos x reader #cs55 x reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz drabbles #f1 drabbles #f1 imagines #f1 scenarios #f1 carlos #carlos sainz #carlos

[lailawinchesterr]

nightmare [dean winchester]

pairing; dean w x fem! reader summary; you go on a hunt with the brothers but when it goes to shit, dean can’t help being overprotective. tags; angst, stitching yourself, alcoholic dean, some you and sam in there cause he's the cutest baby, your dad died.

“fuck! sam, quick, get the girls.” dean runs into the impala forcing the engine to roar to life and flashes his lights at the highest setting for the vampires, burning their eyes as the other four get into it and he drives off.

it's quite for the first five minutes, except for the heavy breathing. the two girls that the trio rescued are sleeping peacefully, though you think it's anything but peaceful. their faces aren't relaxed, instead covered in blood and frowning, but their breaths have slowed, at least.

five minutes. that's all it takes before the tension is broken with a, “let me drive, dean.” the older winchester lets out an exaggerated airy laugh for all of two seconds before putting on a straight face and telling him no. “you're hurt, you can hardly keep your eyes open, let me drive, either of us.”

sam is right, dean is hurt way more than both of you combined, he fought off most of the vampires on his own while you took the girls and ran, but he was mostly hurt because he hadn't expected it.

your plan was to get the girls and dip then come back in the morning to wipe them out in their sleep, but you had woken one of them up with the loudest noise you've ever made when one of the girls stabbed you in the stomach with some glass she’d found on the floor. 

again, taken by surprise. obviously the girls thought you were one of the vampires. 

“shut up. it's only a ten minute drive to the nearest hospital.”

“we're going to a hospital?” you don't usually hunt with sam and dean, opting to stay in the motels and do some research, maybe figure out a better plan, but you've never seen them go to the hospital for their injuries, they'd always come home to you bleeding out on the floor.

“for you and the girls, yes.”

“what about you and sam?”

“it's fine.” that shut you up, his strict tone, and stare in the rear view mirror made you slide down in your seat.

ten minutes later you’ve reached 'northwest tawara horspital' and sam is helping the girls out of the impala. dean, while a wanted fugitive, does the same with you. 

but you refuse. “i won't go inside if you two aren't.”

“what?” he moves a little too quickly and holds his side as he winces. god, that can't be comfortable. 

“i won't go inside, we're just wasting time,” sam comes back and stands in the drivers side to talk to you, door open. “see? sam's back, let's get home quickly so we can fix you both up, and me.”

“no, you're going in.” sam was the one to insist this time but you just shake your head and stay planted into your seat. through the corner of your eye you can see both men discussing what to do then they get back in the car with a sigh.

on the drive home it’s mostly silent until you feel your eyes flutter closed. just a few seconds of sleep— but dean’s loud shout of your name wakes you up, “don't close your eyes, we need to fix you up first.” you nod and straighten up, “and what you did back there? fuckin’ reckless, don't pull that shit again. when we tell you to do something, you do it. or you don't come on hunts with us.”

“what the hell? i was the one who decided i didn't want to come with hunts on you guys, you can't take away my choice.”

“like hell i can't!” he isn't looking at you through the mirror, instead focusing on the road because you're on a busy one, but you can still feel his eyes burning into yours. it makes you shrink down in your seat. you hate how much his words affect you, and how visible it is too. 

sam has has never yelled at you really, but even if he had it wouldn't have done much damage, he's too soft for that. dean though... he scares you sometimes, not that he'd hurt you or kick you out, just that he'd be disappointed in you, maybe give you the silent treatment. you don't want that, but you also hate being barked orders at.

“you can't, dean.” sam says to his brother, slapping his shoulder once to ground him back, and it seems to have worked. because you’re not a bad hunter— if anything, you have their back most of the time, you aren’t clumsy or unreliable and what happened had been a mistake that any other hunter would have made. this isn’t about hunting. this is about dean being too controlling.

you thought it was over now that you're at the motel but when he parks baby, he looks back at you, “i can, and i fucking will. you can't act like a child and expect us to let you come on the hunts. you listen to whatever the fuck we tell you to do.” your lips part in surprise, thinking of how to respond, but he doesn't even give you the chance and gets out, slamming the door behind him. 

you don't look at sam as you close baby's door and start walking to the motel. sam catches up and tells you to wait and because you don't have it in you to be yelled at anymore, you turn back and face him.

he says your name, low and soft, “that wasn't an order,” 

shut up before i cry “hey,” he hugs you, your head on his chest and you just let it all out. god, you feel so stupid. you can't believe you were so unprepared and you caused them all this damage. if you had just been in defense mode you would've never screamed, you've been through worst and kept quite. and though you know it’s a little irrational, you can’t help but blame yourself for not being quiet.

“hey, he's just worried about you, he means well, you know that.” you let go slightly and he kisses your forehead, telling you to go into their room and that he'll be in yours to get cleaned up. 

+

walking into the room of the man who just basically called you a two year old is nerve-wrecking. you don't want to be screamed at and god knows you don't want to be treated like a child again. every time you think you’re getting through to dean, or that you’re becoming closer, something happens and he reminds you you’re still young, naive, and only with them because your dad had told them to.

your father is— was a hunter, he used to hunt with john sometimes, and when he heard about the apocalypse that's soon to be here and all the angels that seem to stride onto earth, he wanted to tie up loose ends, so he asked the winchesters to keep you with them until further notice.

then he never came back. but all of this is something you’ve dealt with ages ago. years even. but this? dean pushing you away all the time? acting like you’re some burden? that, you can’t get over.

“hey,” you hear his voice and turn around, not even having seen him walking towards the bathroom. “how you holding up?”

it’s a stupid attempt to make amends, but it works. the second he says anything, it works. it always does.

“fine.” you mumble and notice he’s finishing supplies to stitch himself up. ouch. you know the boys prefer to do it themselves than help the other out but you’ve always found they need a gentler hand. 

you walk towards him and hold his hand in place to stop his movements, taking the needle from him. he doesn't complain, just drowns the bottle of whiskey. with one hand, the other holding his shirt up. 

when it’s done you hold my hand out for the bottle and he scoffs, as if wasting his alcohol hurts him more than the wound that just got stitched up. he hands it over reluctantly.

you pull down his shirt and decide it’s better if you take a swig too. “does it hurt?” the questions rolls off easily, no matter how angry you are at him. 

“i'll survive.” he shrugs like it's nothing. like the gash over most of his stomach is nothing.

“not what i asked.” dean half-heartedly glares at you but your expectant expression makes him think there isn’t a way out. and there isn’t.

“it's fine, my arm’s just sore.” you sit next to him on the bed, pushing his sleeve up and he hisses, muttering something under his breath and snatching the bottle from your hand to drown it. 

“dean...” it’s surreal. it knocks all the air out of your lungs. you’ve never seen the mark, the one an angel of the lord imprinted on dean’s shoulder, though sam talked about it a couple of times. you clear your throat before he notices the staring and point to the wound, “i think you need to stitch that one too, hand me another needle.”

he does and you get to work. it’s mostly noiseless but it feels like there's something heavy in the air, a confession. though it’s impossible to tell who’s supposed to make it.

“i'm sorry.” you try to hide the surprise on your face by looking down but he doesn't let you, hooking his fingers under your chin and he makes you look up at him. “i was so worried about you.” he lets go, taking a breath in, “the way i felt when you screamed? damn it, i've never felt so scared before and i've been to hell,” he lets out a dry laugh and you smile a little. god he's so perfect.

“i don't wanna hurt you, sweetheart, never, so when i ask you to listen to me it isn't because i'm treating you like a child, i just wanna keep you safe.” there are more words on the tip of his tongue but he shuts up and it doesn’t nothing to help the growing smile on your face. it's more than you thought you’d ever get out of him.

you pour a more of the alcohol on his stitches and pull the sleeve down. “okay, you officially need a shower now, you're all booze and cologne. i need to clean this place up.”

“it's fine, sammy and i will do it.”

“not happening. go get cleaned up, i'll finish here.” you knew that what you’re doing is painfully obvious, but you hope he lets it go, just this once. 

of course he doesn't, instead pulling your shirt up to reveal the various cuts that don’t need stitches, just some treatment, and the stab wound you fixed in the car when they were both too busy sulking in the tension. you’ve gotten a lot better at handling pain since you’ve started with the winchesters.

“when did you do that?”

“doesn't matter, it's done. get in the shower dean, let me clean up and go to sleep.”

“damn it, just answer me when i ask something. when did you do this?”

“car.” you’re scared, tired and you don't want to fight. but he just apologized, for god’s sake, can’t he give it a rest.

you wait for his harsh blow. words that will knock you off my feet, anything really, but he just sighs, letting the shirt go and stands up. you do the same and he embraces you in a hug that you’re quick to reciprocate. so quick you’d already had your arms around his neck before he got his around your waist.

the whiskey burns your nose but it's nothing compared to how your body burns with you so close. “dean?”

“you're so strong, you know?” he takes a beat, a breath, “but that doesn't mean shit to me, i still wanna keep you safe all the time because god knows i don't deserve you but i'm too selfish to let you go.”

you pull away just to see his face. you need to know he means what he's saying. that you’re talking about the both of you in the way you’re thinking. the desperation to convey how he feels to you, it gives you all the confidence in the world to stand a little taller and finally kiss him.

you kiss dean winchester because for the first time in ages, someone cares, someone wants you safe. someone learned from their mistake and did better, someone is fucking perfect and it's dean. 

one of his hands is rough on your waist, the other on you cheek. his tongue, his cologne, it all makes you melt into him. 

then ten seconds later, way too deep into the kiss he pulls away slowly, shakes his head and groans, “why'd you do that.”

you step away him in panic. you were ready for rejection, sure. a small ‘i don't see you like that’, not this.

“i'm sorry, i didn't mean to—”

“no, no, hey,” he steps closer “i just... i don't wanna do this if it's gonna hurt you. i don't know how good i will be if we go down that road and you deserve something good.”

“you are dean,” he licks his bottom lip and it catches you attention, forcing you to bite on yours, “you're good. you're perfect.”

one thing i will not allow in my household is the winchester brothers being insecure that they're not enough (pov it’s all they do). anyways sooo this is for the jensen-a-thon for @artyandink so excited to have my first entry and there’s another one i’ve been working on for a week (hopefully i’m almost done with it). hope you enjoyed this!

#supernatural #supernatural imagine #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester fluff #sam winchester #sam winchester x oc #sam winchester fanfiction #jensen ackles #sam and dean #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #supernatural rewrite #spn crack #spn #spn rp #spn fanart #spnedit #spnfandom #castiel #deancas #destiel

[atomicbland]

Just A Mirage

Hello I'm outting myself as the ──★ ˙🍓anon from @ghoulphile. Anyways they've inspired me to fall face first dip my toe back into writing and might as well share the brain rot with the class. This is my first time writing smut or anything relatively like this so any questions comments critques are welcome! I dont bite unless you want me to

pairings: cooper howard x fem!reader rating: 18+ MDNI! warnings: bondage, degradation, pet names, mentions of age gap (obviously), Cooper Howard being a jackass in general, canon typical chem use, smoking AO3 Link

You were tired, thirsty, and hungry. Your rations had been finished earlier that morning though it was not by your hand. The tall ghoul who looked like he had walked right off the set of one of those western movies with his cowboy hat, ragged leather duster, and shotgun strapped to his back had stolen the last of your food and water while you stepped away to relieve yourself. You had come back to him chewing on your stash of jerky while letting his scruffy companion, “Dogmeat”, drink straight from your water flask. You learned quickly that no matter what, he’d treat the dog better than you. He kept you on a leash, his lasso was tied around your waist and tethered to the weapon belt that might as well have been fused into his skin. Anytime you weren’t keeping pace he’d give a rough tug of the rope, causing it to bite into your belly. Argued it’s easier to keep track of you that way. 

While you lamented over the loss of your food and water and debated if hiring the old ghoul was a smart choice something catches your attention stopping you in your tracks. Along the edge of the tree line, you spot the remains of what looked like a house, bigger than any house you’ve come across. The roof and windows were still somewhat intact and something that looked like brick peeked through the vines that had taken over the structure. You felt the bite of the rope at your stomach. 

“Now, I done told you what’ll happen if I gotta tug this damn rope again…” the Ghoul threatened from in front of you.

“I saw someth-”

“You ain’t seen nothin’,” he spat. “A mirage. Just that pretty lil’ head of yours playin’ tricks sweetie.” He tugged the rope again, urging you to move along not even bothering to look in the same direction as you. 

Sweetie. Whenever he called you that you could feel the heat of a thousand rads shoot through your body, making your blood boil. 

“Maybe my mind wouldn’t be playing tricks if I still had my food and water!” You didn’t budge, refusing to play his stupid game. You were in charge, hiring him to escort you to the Old World Wall safely. 

He turned to face you, his eyes hidden by the brim of his hat but his features were twisted into a scowl. “What was that lil lady?” 

He didn’t scare you. You cleared your throat. “I said. I NEED water. You don’t get any caps or vials if I’M dead!” He stays silent, still glaring. A month's supply of vials upon arrival was on the line and he knew it. You point towards the treeline. “I saw a house over there. We're out of rations and it's getting dark. Can we at least set up camp there?” 

His answer is wordless, whistling a command to Dogmeat to run ahead to the house. He gives another tug at the rope, commanding you to follow behind him, a cautious hand at his holster. 

The inside of the house was far nicer than the outside led you to believe. While everything appeared to be overrun by nature the original bones were still there. Holey yet plush couches formed a sitting area around a fire pit that recessed into the tattered wall. The floorboards creaked and moaned under the new weight as the three of you walked around making sure the area was clear. Dusty paintings littered the walls, images nearly impossible to make out in the dim light. 

“Now smoothie,” the Ghoul started, taking a quick break to puff his inhaler, “I’mma take you off yer leash and scope the perimeter ‘fore we hunker down.” 

You nod, happy to have some relief from the scratchy fibers of the rope and to get some sort of break from your freakish travel partner. Not that you didn’t hate him but the way he spoke and stole from you did wear on your nerves. All of the stupid pet names that cowboy gave you did something to you. You couldn’t place it, a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach, a milder feeling of what he did when he’d make a pass at you. And despite how much he annoyed you, you found him strangely attractive. On those sleepless night when you were sure he was sleeping, you’d study his features, imagining his strong hands around you as he pulled your hips down onto his, his cock hitting your core just right making your back arch and pulling the same loud cries of pleasure you had heard him pull from others in the adjacent room of whatever hostel would allow a ghoul and his dog. 

The smell of viscera and tobacco cloud your senses, and you feel a gloved hand around the back of your neck, ripping you back to reality. “And be good for me while I’m gone.” The heat of his breath travels down your neck and straight between your thighs. 

You watch as he slinks away, stopping at the crumbling doorway—a dark shadow masking the top half of his face. “Oh and sweetheart,” he pulls a cigarette from one of the pockets of his duster, lighting it before he continued, “be a doll an’ rangle somethin’ up for dinner. Ain’t much in the mood for ass jerky t’night.” He flashes you a smile from underneath his hat before leaving, Dogmeat happily cantering after him. 

The house is larger than it looks on the inside and despite its current state of ruin, you could see it in all of its glory, like one of those fancy houses you see in the movies. People smiling and laughing around a table piled with food, dressed in the most beautiful clothes that shimmered against the light. Women with beautifully painted faces and clean, perfectly styled hair. Those movies always made you wonder about the world before the bombs, before everyone wanted to kill everyone else, before the fear of radiation. 

You find your way into the kitchen, cracked black and white tiles decorate the floor, dingy teal cabinets matching the Atomic Queen appliances hug the walls. You take care to peek behind every cabinet door checking for any food or water that might have been missed by whoever came through here last. You manage to find some unlabeled booze and canned food tucked behind the remains of some long abandoned animal nest, while it isn’t much at least you’ll be able to eat tonight. In another cabinet you find some Sugar Bombs, the box is dented and beat up but surprisingly unopened, lucky you. 

You move towards the back of the kitchen, finding yourself in a small dark room. The smell of mildew and rot is so strong your stomach would've turned if it wasn't already empty, it's so bad you couldn't bother to examine the shelves that lined the wall. You make a mental note to ask the Ghoul to check for loot, of the two of you, he had the stronger stomach to rifle through damn near anything. Pushing through the door to the other side, fresh air greets you, a welcomed relief to your lungs. The very last dregs of sunlight shine through the windows that made up the roof, tall green trees kiss the glass in a desperate attempt to break free. If it wasn't for the roof you would've sworn you accidentally found your way outside. 

With one hand on the holster of your knife you creep with the brick of the wall at your back, slowly examining the plants in front of you. You recognized a few, Daffodils, Marigolds, even Tato vines. However a majority were new to you;  large flowers the size of your head, and plants that seemed to grow from the roof. You spot some pear and apple trees with the largest fruits you’ve ever seen further into the room. As you found your way to the perpendicular wall, you noticed that it was made of a giant window. You remember seeing building plans for something similar in a pre-war book years ago, a glass house that kept the plants inside at the ideal temperature. For whatever reason the plants in this glass house were thriving on neglect, carrying on with life as if the bombs never dropped. 

BANG! 

The sound makes you drop to the ground, covering your head. Whatever it was you just hope it was coming from the Ghoul. 

Just as you're about to get up, something catches your eye. You crawl towards the brush to get a closer look, little red fruits perched on vines decorated with white flowers cover the dirt by your feet. You pluck one, rolling it between your fingers the skin is rough, yellow dots littering the surface of the red flesh. The sweet scent of the fruit travels to your nose and entices your palate you know better than to put anything in your mouth. Instead, you procure the small tin that you use to store food from your bag and fill it with the mystery fruit. 

BANG! 

Hastily you shove the container back in your bag, whatever was going on outside had you a fair bit more concerned now that you could hear Dogmeat barking wildly. You quickly get up and make your way out of the glass house, through the dark storage room, and past the kitchen. Not stopping until you've collided with a large solid mass, sending a plume of dust into the air as your ass hits the cushion of the couch. 

“You’re ‘sposed to say ‘scuse you after runnin’ into a fella sweetheart.” 

You look up, your eyes meet the dark shadow of the Ghoul's from under his hat. Yellowed teeth show through as he grins wide. You look down to see in his gloved hand are two Rad Rabbits, in the other an unopened can of purified water. Relief washes over you, knowing that your dinner would be more than just Cram and Sugar Bombs. 

“I believe a thank you's in order.” His stupid handsome grin growing even wider. Clearly proud of himself despite him having taken down much harder prey. 

You glare at him before softening, in some way, you feel like this is his way of apologizing for earlier. Any time he pissed you off he would at least make up for it with his actions. Stolen stimpak? Within the next day, you'd find it replaced along with a bag of RadAway. A few bottle caps would find their way into your bag too, when you brought it up to him he'd deny it, telling you to keep a better eye on your shit.

“Thank you,” you pause, it just dawned on you that you didn't know his name. He was the Ghoul, the Cowboy, your escort across the wasteland. But no name to attach to him. You fish for a polite title for him, and if you knew him better you would've punctuated your gratitude with a kiss, yet the older man didn't seem like one for physical contact. “Thank you, Sir.” Is what you land on. 

His smile fades as if your gratitude offends him and he tosses rabbit carcasses into your lap.

“Make sure Dogmeat gets her fair share. She found ‘em after all.” He says, patting the mutt beside him before making his way to the firepit, and lighting another cigarette. 

#the ghoul #cooper howard #cooper howard smut #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul smut

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Furiosa viewing #3 for me last night and I figured something out. I have heard multiple people say that the pacing of the movie felt off or weird or even "slow," even though the plot consistently moves along at a brisk clip. But what people were noticing was not the speed of the story but the structure.

I realized the pacing feels weird because the movie has two third acts.

The overwhelming majority of movies released by Hollywood studios follow a very standardized three-act structure. This is certainly not the only way to structure a film story, but it's the most common one in the Anglophone film world, so common that you have probably absorbed its pattern without even thinking about it. The previous Mad Max movies do generally fit this structure, and Fury Road fits it like, down to the minute.

When we get to the big fight sequence at the Bullet Farm, where we know Jack has prepared everything for Furiosa to leave and they just have to get through this one last mission together, my gut story sense was like this feels like it should be the third act. The fight in the Bullet Farm and the chase with Dementus that ends in Jack's death feels like it should be the climax of the movie. And not just because we are around the two-hour mark at this point, although we are.

In terms of themes and plot arcs and story beats, Jack's death feels like where the movie should end. We start the story with Mary Jabassa telling Furiosa to leave her behind and make it home safe. I'm sure Mary knows she's on a suicide mission at this point, but maybe she can hold off their attackers long enough for her daughter to escape. But Furiosa can't leave her mom behind. So she goes back, and she watches her mom die brutally and gets trapped by Dementus.

Then, at the Bullet Farm, Furiosa has her best chance yet at getting home. She has a fully loaded vehicle, and she's outside the Bullet Farm gates while Jack is stuck inside. Jack, too, tells her to run and save herself. (While it's never spelled out, I'm sure we're supposed to intuit that the green flare means GO.) He probably thinks he's dead either way at this point, but maybe Furiosa can make it out. But once again, she can't do it. She goes back to defend Jack, and we have this little bit of hope of, maybe this time she'll be able to save the person she cares about from being killed by the same warlord who killed her mother. Whether she succeeds or fails, narratively, this feels like it should be the climactic action sequence of the movie.

But there's still another 30 (ish?? I need to watch with a timer) minutes to go after that, in which we have a whole other plot arc of Furiosa getting back to the Citadel, making her prosthetic arm, and going off on her quest to hunt down Dementus. And if this part all feels a bit grueling, it's because your brain expected the movie to end half an hour ago.

(I should pause here to say that you absolutely can write a movie in three-act structure that's longer than 2 hours--you just have to stretch all the pieces out equally or it starts to feel lumpy. And the place where our attention spans are going to be least forgiving of lumpiness is at the end of the movie.)

Well, you might say, maybe Furiosa was just not written with the three-act structure in mind. And that could be true! But I would argue that the oddness of the end of the movie comes primarily from the film not being clear on what narrative question it's trying to answer.

Because an ending that focuses on Furiosa's choice between finally getting home or going back to try to save Jack is addressing the question of, "Do you prioritize saving yourself, or do you fight for the people you love, even if you may end up in a worse situation because of it?"

An ending that follows Furiosa's revenge quest seems to focus more on, "What does seeking revenge do to your humanity?"

Both of these questions are rich territory to be explored in the wasteland, and the other Mad Max movies deal with both of them. But I would argue that the first question is very clearly set up in the beginning of the movie as a thing we expect to be exploring, and the second question, not so much.

I think the story would have benefitted from picking one or the other. And if they wanted to tell a story about the price of revenge, then highlighting this earlier--either by making revenge Furiosa's primary motivation from the beginning, or highlighting it thematically by showing how the quest for revenge warps other characters--would have made the last section of the movie feel more like a payoff and less like a sudden left turn into the desert.

#stay tuned for the alternate ending i wrote in my head last night #i just had to get this piece of it out first #mad max #furiosa #furiosa a mad max saga #story structure #screenwriting

[0cta9on]

you sure you really know all fromis_9 members by the surface still? if not, can you make a lewd thoughts of your choice?

Hello anon! Sorry, I'm still not that familiar with the fromis_9 members :/ I will take this chance to write about a short smut about Eunha bcs I haven't written about her yet :>

(Adding this part after I finished writing: This like 10% BFH, 90% I wanted to try something different. Unedited so might be bad, but I hope it's interesting at the very least :})

This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong. She’s your daughter’s friend, you shouldn’t be doing this.

Yet no matter how many times you repeat this to yourself, you still can’t seem to let go. Maybe it’s because you’ve been left unsatisfied after your wife cheated and divorced you. Maybe it’s because she’s the first woman to give you attention years after the divorce. Or maybe it’s because of the simple fact that her body is so fucking delicious.

“Mmm, the water feels so nice and warm, daddy~” Eunha says, resting her head against your chest. You kiss her neck, eliciting a cute whimper from her plump lips.

Your memory gets foggy whenever you think about how this all started, probably your mind trying to suppress all the sinful acts you’ve done. All you can remember is that one day, your daughter brought Eunha home to work on a project for school, and then suddenly, the cute Korean girl is on her knees in the middle of your laundry room, sucking on your cock like it’s second nature. Your daughter never found out about that time, let alone the multiple other times that came after. In the bathroom, in your car, anywhere you could find a little privacy, you and Eunha would fuck like rabbits. She became your dirty little secret. 

When you heard your daughter say she would be going to a sleepover tonight, you actively had to stop yourself from looking too excited. “Sure thing, have fun,” is all you could utter before immediately fishing your phone out of your pocket to tell Eunha the news. At best, you would get a couple minutes with her before your daughter would start to get suspicious. But a whole night? Filthy fantasies ran rampant in your mind, thinking about all the things you could do to Eunha’s tight little body. It’s all disgusting. You are disgusting. But hell seems a whole lot more bearable with your dick inside her pretty mouth.

Eunha plays with the bubbles, sloshing them around the bathtub. Instead of tossing her on the bed and having your way with her, you decided to start things slow with a relaxing bubble bath - something you and your ex-wife used to do for your anniversaries.

“This is so romantic, daddy,” she says, grinning up at you. You pull her tighter towards you, caressing her hefty breasts.

“I’m glad you like it, baby.” Sweet little moans escape from her lips as your hands travel across her body, going down the curves you’ve already memorized at this point. Her hips buck as you tease her clit, sending mini waves across the water.

“Oh yes daddy, that feels so good.” Eunha’s head falls back, eyes shut and mouth agape in ecstasy. You take the chance to shove your tongue in between her glossy lips, savoring the faint taste of strawberries. She moans heavily into your mouth with each squeeze of her tits and each flick of her clit. 

Her body is like a game you’ve played over and over again, you’ve ingrained all the combos and strategies in your mind to the point that it’s muscle memory. Bite her clavicle, she’ll make this noise. Squeeze her ass, she’ll make a different noise. Do both at the same time and she’ll do something else entirely. So easy, so predictable, yet it never ceases to be thrilling.

“Y-yes! Finger my pussy, daddy! My pussy is all yours!” It barely registered in your mind, your feverish movements in and out of her tight hole, causing water to splash out of the tub. You’ve become so enamored in playing with your little toy that you forgot about the good part. No matter, it won’t take long for her to do it again.

“Augh!!” With a loud squeal, her body squirms as her climax overtakes her before falling limp into your arms. “That… was so… amazing…” Eunha plants a small peck on your cheek. Her breasts rise and fall with each heavy breath, water glistening on her beautiful chest. Much to her delight, you are far from done.

You help her out of the tub and dry her off, exchanging brief kisses as you feel each other up.  Her smooth skin feels plush under your grip, way better than what your ex-wife felt like. Eunha looks up at you with a hungry glare while stroking your erection.

“I can’t wait to have this inside me~ Daddy’s cock is soooo big and thick.”

You chuckle at her juvenile words that sound like they’re ripped straight from a vulgar porn script. The moniker left a bitter taste in your mouth, but it stuck naturally: you are, in fact, old enough to be her father. In a repulsive way, it does turn you on, especially when it comes out of those slutty lips. 

Eunha giggles as you pick her up by her ass and carry her lithe body to the bed like a ragdoll. Her supple thighs are already covered in her slick, desperately waiting to be used like the toy that she is. Those large, glistening eyes never leave yours, promising to give you everything and more. You know she can’t, but she’ll try to, even if it hurts her.

“Ooh yes, fill me up, daddy.” Her familiar yet luscious tightness surrounds your member, accepting every inch of you. A chorus of grunts, moans, and expletives fill the room, crescendoing into an incoherent symphony of lust and sin. So sweet, so delicate, her pussy takes you so easily without resistance. Fuck. Fuck, this is wrong. This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong. She’s your daughter’s friend, you shouldn’t be doing this.

Yet you keep thrusting and thrusting, marking her body with consequences she’ll have to face alone, harder and faster until tears drip down her face. Kiss her, endure the burning of fingernails in your back, it’s the least you can do right before you absolutely ruin her.

“F-fuck! Daddy, I f-fucking love you! A-ah, yes!”

Your body continues like a machine, but your mind is still human. Love. You tried to love her, tried to think about the future with her in it. But it’s all dark. Deep down, you know you don’t love her. You love her body. You love the way she takes your dick down her throat or into that tight cunt. She takes it so well. So. Fucking. Well.

You’re close. Eunha has already went through two or three orgasms at this point, but you fuck her right through all of them. Her face is frozen in lust, eyes rolled back and mouth desperately catching oxygen. Your fingers sink into her hips, pounding away at her like she’s a piece of meat. Her entire body shakes violently as you dump your load directly into her womb, nothing but a glorified cum rag. You pull out, watching the mixture of your juices drip and stain your sheets, marking them with your sin.

Eunha looks at you with that damn twinkle in her eyes - she wants more, and so do you. Your favorite little toy to use as you please, never arguing or complaining or fighting with you. Dress her up in whatever you want just to rip it off and fuck her senseless. Purely built for your pleasure and your pleasure alone. You pounce onto her, ready for another round. 

Suddenly, the both of you freeze. Eunha’s sultry look is replaced with shock, fear, and shame, her gaze fixated on the doorway.

The door swings open on its creaky hinges. You always thought about fixing your door, but never got around to it. But that’s the least of your problems right now.

“D-dad…? What… the fuck… are you doing…?”

#viviz #gfriend #jung eunbi #eunha #viviz eunha #gfriend eunha #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #viviz x male reader #gfriend x male reader #viviz x male oc #gfriend x male oc #viviz eunha x male reader #gfriend eunha x male reader #viviz eunha x male oc #gfriend eunha x male oc #smut #eunha smut #viviz eunha smut #gfriend eunha smut

[artdcnaldson]

Tie Break || Art Donaldson x Reader ; Patrick Zweig x Reader

this can be read as a sequel to changeover or as a standalone :) enjoy <3

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: SMUT (p in v smut x2, f!recieving oral, handjob, creampie, cum eating), angst with a happy ending, infidelity, toxic relationships, everyone in this is kind of a horrible person, language obviously

Summary: It’s summer in Atlanta, 2011. For the second time in your life, you’re the clear second choice. When the opportunity arises, you find a temporary distraction in Art Donaldson.

A/N: FINALLY here it is! The 2011 Atlanta fic. They’re back, they’re older, they’re even more toxic. Let me know if you’re interested in a part 3!

It was hot, even though the sun had long since dipped beneath the horizon. It was a cloying, oppressive heat that made the stupid, business-casual top you wore stick to your skin. 

The article you were working on was halfway written, something you could knock out in the next hour if you really tried. Your drink was watered down from the heat, weak when it hit your tongue. A frown turned your lips, but you really shouldn’t have been drinking anyway.

"Working late?”

The voice was so familiar that you could’ve recognized it anywhere, any time. Art Donaldson was one of the most recognizable men in the country, but to you, he seemed so different. The boyishness was still there, but it lay beneath a new level of confidence.

You took a sip of your drink, trying to appear nonchalant, like it hadn’t been four years since you last spoke. “I’m on deadline. I’m writing a feature on Anna Mueller heading into the US Open next month.”

Without asking, he sat down across from you at the small bistro table. He was so close you could smell the minty gum he had been chewing. It nearly made you smile. Old habits die hard.

“So you write about tennis?” He asked, meeting your gaze. 

“I write about athletes,” you corrected. “I was going to be here anyway, and since Anna is heading for a Grand Slam, I thought it would be easy enough. Grab a couple of interviews, watch a few matches.”

He nodded, leaning back in the chair, trying his best to be causal in a situation that definitely wasn’t. You sipped again at your drink, peering at him over the edge of the glass. 

“You have a match tomorrow,” you said, as though he needed reminding. “Shouldn’t you be listening to shitty pop punk to get yourself psyched right now?”

A smile spread across his lips, and he looked so much like the guy you knew from college that it made your chest tug uncomfortably. Same hair, the same smile, the same crinkle at the edges of his eyes when he was amused by something. You couldn’t help but smile along with him, like the past four years were nothing. “I don’t do that anymore,” he said with a laugh. “Do you want another drink?”

You looked down at your glass, mostly water and thin ice cubes. “Rum and coke?” You asked, giving him a tiny smile. He nodded and disappeared towards the bar.

It felt strange, sitting there in the quiet, your article the furthest thing from your mind. Four years. It felt like yesterday and an eternity ago that you’d last spoken with him. He was a familiar stranger, nearly unknowable. 

Your cursor blinked a few more times before you shut your laptop and slid it back inside your beat-up work bag. 

“Running off?” He asked, catching you in the act of packing your things. You shook your head and accepted the fresh drink with a smile. “You said you were going to be in Atlanta anyway,” he said as he sat, spreading out, making himself comfortable in the shitty bar seating. “When you were talking about writing about Anna.”

You nodded. “Mhmm, I did,” you replied, chewing the inside of your lip nervously. His gaze was intense, falling just on the other side of casual. You felt tiny under that gaze, like you were guilty of a crime you didn’t know you’d committed. 

“And you’re here for Patrick?” The words were nonchalant, but you could hear the accusation beneath them, the history of the two of them just in one sentence. It turned something in your stomach, the possessiveness in his voice. You could hear it, even four years out.

The new drink was strong, but it was the perfect way to hide the distaste in your expression. The burn of liquor into your chest grounded you back in reality instead of the easy allure of nostalgia. “Yeah,” you said after a beat. “I try my best to go to all of his matches.”

Art narrowed his eyes, just slightly. There was still an element of exaggerated friendliness, the casual smile on his lips, the open body language. All of it masking the lingering resentment and hurt that was buried beneath mountains of nostalgia. Deep enough that neither of you had realized it was still there until you found yourselves face to face. There was an unspoken question, one that he didn’t want to ask, one that you didn’t want to answer. 

How long?

You took another drink. 

“Where is Patrick?” He asked, glancing around like he might materialize out of thin air.

“He went out for a smoke, or to walk around and clear his head, or something,” you said with a shrug. “I’m not his keeper. Where’s Tashi?”

His jaw clenched and he looked away— a sore spot. A scab you wanted to pick at until it bled, dig your nails in. Maybe that was your eighteen-year-old self talking. 

“You never used to let her get too far away from you,” you noted, mirth dripping from each syllable. “Bet you came down here looking for her. Your leash must’ve been just a little too loose this time and she slipped it.”

You took a long drink, nails tapping against the glass as you considered your words. Tashi wasn’t the type of woman who let a man hold her back. If you were trying to be more accurate, rather than just piss him off, you might’ve fixed the analogy. Art was the sad little puppy following her around. She tied his leash to a lamp post for a fucking break.

“Do you remember the day Tashi got injured?” He asked, changing the subject suddenly. 

You blinked slowly, appraising him. But his expression gave nothing away. “I do.”

A wry smile spread across his lips, and he met your gaze with a coldness that you didn’t recognize. Mean in the way injured animals like to snap at the nearest hand. “It was Patrick in your room that night, wasn’t it?”

Your brows furrowed, face falling at his words. “What?”

He made a face, something akin to skepticism, but crueler. It made your stomach turn. 

“You were fucking someone in your room,” he said plainly. “And I’ve always had a suspicion that it was Patrick. Was it?”

That didn’t do much to clear up your confusion. “You were there?”

He laughed, mirthless, and nodded. “I was, uh, sitting by the door like an asshole. I came to apologize, to beg for you back, but instead, I spent the night listening to my girlfriend getting fucked on the other side of the door.”

Annoyance flickered in your gaze. He knew of a wound of your own, and he relished in picking at it the way you’d relished in digging your fingers into his. “I wasn’t your girlfriend, Art.”

“Right, you weren’t. But you’re Patrick’s girlfriend now, is that it?”

Heat burned in your cheeks. Your relationship with Patrick was… tempestuous to say the least. Most of the time he was your boyfriend, but others he was just a friend that you could count on for a good fuck, sometimes not even a friend. At the moment, he was the former, but that could always change.

It wasn’t easy, being with someone whose emotions ran on an equally short fuse. You’d sound too much like his parents, or he’d devalue your work, or Patrick would forget to take out the trash in your apartment and you’d snap, or you’d mispronounce a word one too many times and it would drive him crazy. Insignificant things could feel big with him, because of him. For better or worse. 

“At the moment, yes.”

“At the moment.” He echoed, laughing like he was in on some joke you were painfully unaware of.

”That’s amusing to you?” You asked, raising a brow. 

He shrugged, picking at his jeans. “Your choice of words is interesting.” He lets that hang in the air before he meets your gaze again. “Do you think Patrick would’ve even noticed you if it hadn’t been for me?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Does it matter?” You asked. “You realize that we’ve been together going on four years now, right? Broken up, dating, fucking, whatever. You realize that there may be more important things in our life than you?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. I think you know that whatever you have, it’s built on the fact that you were a warm body when he needed it. Just like you were for me.”

That arrogant expression, like he actually fucking knew anything about you anymore was the last straw. You stood suddenly, grabbing your bag. You weren’t Art Donaldson’s little lapdog anymore— you didn’t have to sit there and take all the shit he doled out. 

“Goodnight, Art. Thanks for the drink.”

It was funny, how your weaknesses were still so exposed. Art’s was Tashi, and it probably always would be. His desire to be seen, to impress, painted upon every lovely feature. And yours, raw and bleeding and obvious— the unbearable, visceral need to be wanted.

You made it to the elevator before you felt his presence behind you. Wordless, but so close it was suffocating. You jabbed the up button over and over in frustration, knowing it wouldn’t speed anything up. 

Art stepped into the elevator with you, so close you could feel the body heat radiating off of him. He always burned hot, like a human furnace. 

It was silent as the lift lurched upwards. You pressed against the back corner, watching the number of the floor increase one by one. 

“Patrick is with Tashi,” Art said without looking at you, just as the elevator opened on the floor of your room. You froze, swallowing hard. “I saw them in the hotel bar, then they left together. What do you think they’re doing right now?”

You shook your head dumbly, pulse thrumming in your throat. “Go fuck yourself, Art,” you said weakly, because what else was there to say? You stepped into the hallway— lit with dim yellow light so you couldn’t see where the wallpaper peeled and the carpet was stained.

“If you need somewhere to wait them out, and you will, I’m in room 13 on the seventh floor.” The elevator doors closed, and you were alone. 

The hallway was winding, and you felt a bad sort of anticipation of what you might find, like a sick feeling in your gut. You stood in front of the room, 306, and froze.

The door to your room was closed, no light shone from beneath the door, but you could hear them. Muffled, but clear enough. A pretty voice and breathy moans. Patrick’s laugh, the thud of something falling off the dresser.

Your room key was in your purse— you could’ve gotten it out and stopped it, but what good would that have done? You’d still spend the night humiliated, facing opposite walls as Patrick, lying in the same sheets he’d just fucked her in. 

You dropped the bag by the door and took a slow, shaky breath to calm yourself down. 

Tashi Duncan. She had lingered on the edges of your relationship with Patrick too. She was Patrick’s first choice, just as she’d been Art’s. You’d never blamed them for that, you knew where you stood, and you chose them anyway. 

It was easy to choose them when you thought that the threat was nonexistent— when distance made you feel safe. You could hear her and him, but it felt like mere static in your brain.

You knew how Art felt, back at Stanford. Sulking outside the door, unable and unwilling to stop what was happening on the other side. 

You were in the elevator before you realized you’d walked away. Shitty soft rock played over the speakers, and a poster on the wall advertised a continental breakfast. Your stomach turned uncomfortably. 

You knocked on the door— room thirteen, an unlucky number. Maybe it didn’t bode well. As you waited for the door to open, your nails tapped a staccato rhythm against your thigh.

Art opened the door like he’d been expecting someone else. Maybe he had half-expected you to interrupt and send Tashi back upstairs, but no. He got you standing at his door with fiery eyes and an expectant expression. 

Second choice, second choice, second choice.

Art kissed you for the first time in four years, and you let him. Not because you wanted to hurt Patrick or Tashi, but because you knew it would hurt you. His tongue pressed between the seam of your lips like he belonged there, licking into your mouth like he wanted to reclaim every part of you that Patrick had touched. You pushed him with a firm hand on his chest and he stumbled backward into the room. Despite everything, he smiled. 

His hotel room was nearly identical to yours and Patrick’s. But you didn’t have time to really take in the details when he had his tongue in your mouth, kissing you hungrily.

That afternoon, you kissed Patrick after he lost his match. You wondered if Art could still taste him on your tongue then, if he wanted to drown out the taste of him. 

It was different than you were used to. Four years with Patrick meant that you’d grown accustomed to certain ways that he did things— the intensity behind each kiss, each touch. His emotions— good, bad, in between— were never masked, never repressed. 

When Patrick kissed you, when he touched you, when he fucked you— both of you were laid completely bare. 

Art was different. When he kissed you it was through a certain level of performance, like he’d learned how from a searing romance film. In college, you’d believed that he kissed you like that because deep down, he did love you. Even at that moment, years out from your relationship with him, it muddled your brain.

Your sensible work heels had long since been kicked off by the door. Art’s fingers undid the button and zip of your jeans deftly, with a confidence that had only doubled since Freshman year. They wound up in a heap against the hotel dresser. 

In his haste to remove your (also sensible, and very business casual) button-down, he popped about half of the buttons off completely. 

“Sorry,” he said. The grin on his lips made you wonder if sorry was really how he felt. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Stop talking.” You pulled off your bra and lost it somewhere across the room in your haste. Art was pulling off his clothes— his hoodie and the shirt beneath. His jeans and shoes toed off and left to be dealt with later. 

He kissed you again, guiding you exactly where he needed. Your knees hit the back of the mattress and he eased you down without moving his lips from yours. When your head hit the sheets, you smelled perfume so sweet that it was nearly intoxicating. You turned your head, breathing deeply. Tashi. In this same bed, in this same spot. It made something stir inside you— right in your chest. A hint of wrongness, a hint of hurt. 

Art pulled back, moving his lips along your jaw, down to the junction of your throat. 

“Stop thinking,” he murmured against your skin, kissing down to your tits. “I don’t want you thinking about Patrick. Not when you’re with me.”

The words were mumbled against soft, supple skin. His eyes were intent as they looked up at you, the demand of momentary fidelity in his eyes. You wanted to slap that expression off of his face, or run your thumb along his cheek and hold his face in your hands. 

How was it fair that he asked you that when he’d lingered like a ghost on the edges of whatever it was that you and Patrick had? How was it fair for him to look at you like that?

He took a nipple into his mouth and you gasped as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin. Soft kisses before he suckled softly. “Okay,” you gasped, lying through your teeth. “I’m only thinking of you.”

His hair was still long, kept the same way he wore it in school. Your fingers tangled in his hair like muscle memory, scratching against his scalp as he kissed along your skin with wet lips, treating your other breast with the same, hungry attention.

“Still so fucking hot,” he mumbled against your skin. “Should’ve— fuck— should’ve kept you. What do you want, huh? Tell me.”

Your mind swam with possibilities, but you didn’t even know where to begin. Your mind was stuck on his previous words. Should’ve kept you. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?  “I don’t know,” you replied, completely honest. “Whatever you want.”

He accepted that easily— it was so similar to how you’d been for him in college. You gasped as he kissed down your sternum, then your stomach. His lips found the waistband of your panties and he grinned, tugging at the lace with his teeth, letting it snap back against your hip. 

He peeled your panties down slowly, letting his hands trail down the expanse of your legs. The possessiveness of the touch sent a thrill up your spine. His lips grazed along your skin, from your ankle, up your calf, then your knee. Your legs spread instinctively, welcoming him right back where he knew he belonged. His pretty lips trailed wet kisses up your thighs, stopping just where you wanted him. 

You expected him to rush. He’d seen Patrick and Tashi leave, which meant they’d finish before you two, more likely than not. There was every reason in the world to make things quick— to fuck you and make you leave. 

Instead, he took his time with you. Soft, teasing kisses peppered on the supple skin of your thighs before he nuzzled into your cunt. The first delve of his tongue was slow and exploratory, tasting the arousal that had pooled at your core. 

”God, you still taste so fucking sweet.”

Another thing you’d nearly forgotten about Art— in all things, he was methodical.

He started with kitten licks at your clit— light brushes with his tongue that made you whimper needily for more. His tongue circled you there, and he relished in the way your fingers tugged on his hair at the sensation. 

Then he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking with more pressure until a strangled moan squeezed past your lips. Your thighs tensed on either side of his head, holding him there as he alternated between slow, soothing licks and firm suction.

It was frustrating, how wet you were. Art had brought out the worst in you, turned you into something that left you feeling genuinely embarrassed. And still, you were slick, dripping down to the sheets. A mess of arousal and Art’s spit. 

When he eased a finger into your cunt, it slid in like your body was made to fit whatever he could give you. At that point, you very well could have been. What were you, if not an object orbiting in the atmosphere of his life?

He looked up at you, seeming so fucking intent on making it feel good for you as he crooked his finger. It rubbed against the soft, spongy spot within you and you cried out, eyes rolling back. 

“That’s it, huh?” He cooed as he pressed a second finger inside of you. Your arm was slung over your face. You couldn’t let yourself keep looking at him when he was looking at you the same way he had in college. The same fucking expression that got your head all mixed up in the first place. 

He pressed a soft kiss to your clit and you whimpered. “I know it feels good, baby, just relax.”

His fingers thrust within you with a slow, deep pressure as he continued to make out with your clit. It was always so good with him— you’d nearly forgotten how easy it was for him to bring you to the edge. 

When you came, it wasn’t like what you had grown used to with Patrick— sudden and overwhelming, like it had been ripped from some secret place within you. It was intense, but slow to build, seeming to last forever as Art’s fingers and tongue worked you through it. Your breath was shaky as he pulled back, pretty mouth wet with your arousal.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, looking up at you expectantly. 

You should’ve stopped— rationally, you knew that it was best to turn back and quit before you fucked up the situation beyond repair. 

But it was Art. He could’ve had anyone else, but he wanted you. Maybe not forever, or even longer than that night. But for then. 

You shook your head softly. “No. Do you think we should stop?”

His fingers moved between your thighs, circling your clit. “We definitely should. You’re with Patrick.”

You sighed, eyes fluttering as he caressed you with featherlight touches. “Don’t fucking talk about him,” you said, but your words came out with no bite. How could they, when he was playing with your body like a favorite toy?

“No?” He asked. He was wearing a smug sort of expression. “You don’t want me to talk about your boyfriend, huh? Too personal?”

You moaned as he applied more pressure at the apex of your thighs, making your cunt clench and ache to be filled. 

“Does Patrick know how much you’ve missed me?” He asked. Your breath caught in your throat, and he just smiled. “I bet he does. I think he knows that if he just drops my name in a conversation, your pussy gets wet.”

You moaned softly at his words, chest heaving with soft pants. You weren’t even sure if it was true, but it felt like it could’ve been then. He leaned down, his words spoken close to your ear.

“I can go slow. Make it last for you.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear, making you shiver. 

You nodded eagerly, turning your head to capture his lips with yours. The kiss was slow, like you had all the time in the world. His tongue against yours, the weight of his body on top of you, the feel of him hard, pressing against your thigh. 

He sat back to strip off his boxers, and you relished in the sight of him laid bare before you. You’d nearly forgotten how pretty he was— big and flushed nearly red with need. It made your heart hammer with nerves; your excitement and shame and need rolled into one messy, electrifying tangle. 

His hair flopped into his eyes as he held himself over you, just like you remembered. You reached up, brushing it out of his eyes with a tender hand. His lips brushed against the inside of your wrist, right where your pulse thrummed in your veins. 

“Tell me you’ve missed me.”

Heat flooded your entire body, as you repeated the words. “I missed you, Art.” You reached between your bodies, wrapping your hand around his cock, and guiding it towards your entrance. He moaned and bucked instinctively into your hand.

”Tell me you want me to fuck you, no one else.” You could hear the implications in his words. Tell me you want me, not Patrick. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

Art pressed himself inside of you, sinking into the welcoming warmth of your cunt. You wrapped your legs around his waist, squeezing him closer, deeper, until his balls pressed firm against you and there was nothing else to give.

He thrust shallowly, rocking against a spot deep within you, one that made your eyes flutter with each brush against it.

“You’re so tight still,” he moaned, lips moving against your throat. “Pussy’s made just for me.”

He touched you like he hadn’t forgotten how you felt or what you needed. Spoke to you like you were one of his possessions.

You lost yourself in it— the sweet, filthy words spoken against your skin, and the rhythm of his body moving against yours. His lips captured yours with a hungry insistence, like he could convey four years' worth of unspoken words with a few brushes of his tongue against yours. 

When he pulled back, lips spit slick and looking so pretty, you thought maybe there was a sort of understanding between the two of you.

His head fell back as he sped up his thrusts, chasing his release. There wasn’t time to stretch it out, to spend as much time as you could with each other’s bodies. 

“Need you to cum,” he said, sliding a hand between your thighs to rub your still-sensitive clit. Your cunt was squeezing him tight, body aching for it, for him, brought to the edge simply because he’d asked for it. “C’mon— you get so tight when you cum, need to feel it again.”

It was like your body was hardwired to give him exactly what he wanted. You came with broken moans of his name and legs squeezing him closer, deeper. Your chest heaved with shaking breaths and punched out whimpers as he kept fucking into you.

He was practically crushing you with his weight, pinning you down, groaning into the junction of your shoulder. 

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” his words vibrated against skin tacky with a thin sheen of sweat.

”Want you to.” Your arms slung around his back, holding him close to you. “I’ve got an IUD, so you can— you can cum.”

His lips met yours as he came, with a pretty moan into your open mouth and slow, messy kisses that made you want to just melt into him and stay that way forever. 

Spent, he rolled over and turned on a lamp at the bedside. The alarm clock announced the time in a dim red glow— five past one.

You lay there, damp between your thighs from the mixture of your releases, unsure of what to do. It was cold beneath the hotel AC. He was peering over at you, wearing an expression you were scared to dissect.

When his hand touched your arm, you nearly flinched. Your breath caught in your throat as he ran his thumb along your skin, so sweetly that you felt that same discomfort tug at your chest. 

“C’mere,” he said, an offer. His arm was splayed over the pillows, giving you the perfect spot to lie down and press yourself against his side. To pretend like you belonged there.

But you didn’t belong there. You belonged four floors down with Patrick. That’s where you had belonged for four years. The reality of what you’d done had set in quickly, and you knew you needed to get out of Art’s room. 

”Art,” you said softly, shaking your head. “I have to go.”

He nodded and sat up against the headboard. You watched him grab his boxers and pull them back on, a strange smile on his face. He must’ve sensed your confusion, even without you saying. 

“It’s funny how things change,” he said. “Here I am, asking you to stay for once.”

You didn’t say anything as you picked up your clothes from around the room, redressing as you recovered each piece from its hiding spot around the room. Your shirt was unsalvageable, so you grabbed Art’s. He had plenty of brand sponsors that would jump to replace it, and Patrick wouldn’t recognize it.

“I loved you, I think,” he said suddenly. “Back in college.”

You froze, arms crossed over your chest as you looked at him. “Art—“

“No, I did. I loved you, I just did it all wrong.”

“Art, just stop,” you said firmly. Embarrassment hit you all at once— the guilt of what you’d done, and the shame over who you’d done it with. Your eyes stung as you looked at him. “Why the fuck would you say that?”

His lips twitched, dipping into a frown, then back into as close to a neutral expression as he could manage. “I just thought you should know. It’s only fair.”

You laughed mirthlessly. “Fair? Jesus Christ, you really haven’t changed, Art.” 

His expression fell completely. It looked like it had back in the hotel bar— icy. “I haven’t changed? What’s that supposed to mean?”

You sighed as you looked at him. “It means that if this were Stanford, that would’ve made me crawl right back into bed, lay by your side, and daydream about what it could mean for us. If one day I might be Mrs. Art Donaldson. It means that you say these sweet things to me every time you can feel me slipping away, but they mean absolutely nothing. We’re not nineteen anymore, Art. I’m not leaving Patrick to be your plaything again.”

His jaw tensed, and he looked down at the bed briefly while he picked at loose threads on the sheets. “You think that’s what I want?”

You frowned. “I think you want what Patrick has.”

He scoffed. “Patrick doesn’t even want what he has,” he said, relishing in the wounded look on your face. “If he did, he wouldn’t be fucking my fiancée right now.”

Fiancée. You felt stupid for not knowing it, but you swallowed down your hurt and met his gaze. “I guess we’re both going to have to be content with being the second choice.” You slipped on your shoes and went for the door. “Good luck with your match tomorrow, Art. I sincerely hope that I never have to see you again.”

The hallway felt colder when you stepped outside of the room and shut the door firmly behind you. A very big part of you wanted to go back, to knock and apologize and grovel like you might have when you were a freshman.

Maybe you hadn’t grown up that much after all. 

The elevator was playing Billy Joel. You leaned against the side of the elevator, relishing in the cold against your sticky skin. When the doors opened on your floor and you stepped out, you blinked in surprise. 

Tashi stood in front of you for the first time since college, looking just as stunning as you remembered, probably more so. Her hair was pulled up, slightly damp at the ends. Her eyes flicked down to your shirt, Art’s shirt, you swallowed as an understanding passed between the two of you— wordless, because what was there to say at that point?

”You left your laptop in the hallway,” she said, skipping formalities. “I took it inside so it wouldn’t get stolen.”

“Okay,” you said, chewing on your lip. She stood there like she expected something more. You felt her surveying you, and froze as she reached forward and rubbed at your bottom lip.

“He could’ve at least cleaned you up a bit,” she said. Her fingers delicately fixed your hair, tucking it back into place. She wiped a smudge of lipstick from the side of your mouth. Once there was nothing left to fix, she looked at you one last time and nodded. “You should be fine now.”

Before you could process that, she stepped into the elevator, and you were left alone in the hallway. When you made it to the room, the door was cracked open, so you let yourself in.

Patrick was on the balcony smoking a cigarette, a towel slung low around his waist. The bed was a fucking wreck, not that he seemed to mind. 

When the door clicked shut, he stubbed out the cigarette he was smoking and joined you back in the room. 

“Are we going to talk about it?” He asked. His jaw tensed as he looked at you, like he was ready if you were going to start a fight.

“I just want to go to bed, Patrick,” you said, annoyed by how wobbly and pathetic you sounded. 

He stepped forward and kissed your forehead. “Okay. We’ll go to bed.”

You kicked off your clothes, but left on Art’s hoodie. Patrick didn’t ask where it came from, or what happened to what you were wearing earlier. You knew he already knew, that he could tell the moment you walked in. He dropped the towel onto a heap on the floor, climbed into the bed, and held out his arms for you.

A stronger person would’ve told him to fuck off, but you weren’t a stronger person. You nestled into his side and felt the hot sting of tears in your eyes. 

He rubbed your back soothingly and kissed your forehead. The sheets smelled like Tashi, he smelled like hotel soap, and you smelled like Art’s cologne. 

“Do you want room service in the morning?” He asked softly.

“Patrick—“

“I’m serious. We can have breakfast in bed, do some tourist-y shit, maybe we’ll go watch a couple of matches, then come back and—“

“Are we supposed to just forget what happened?” You interrupted.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.” He kissed your forehead, tender, sweet. “I’ll tell you everything if that’s what you want.”

You met his gaze. “Do you… do you want to know? About Art?”

He went quiet as he played with the ends of your hair. “Did it make you feel any better?” He finally asked. 

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Then it didn’t.”

He kissed the crown of your head. “No?”

You shook your head, sighing softly as his kisses trailed down, over your nose, to the sides of your mouth. “No. It was a mistake.”

”Tell me about it,” he said, murmuring against your jaw. “Tell me how he touched you.”

You shivered, tilting your head to give him more access. Your nails scratched softly against his scalp as he sucked bruises onto your throat. 

“He was desperate,” you said, heart hammering as you began recounting it to Patrick— your boyfriend. There was no world in which he should’ve wanted to hear about it… and yet. He moaned against your throat, encouraging you, wanting to know more. “Kissed me like he wanted to taste you in my mouth, like he wanted to overpower you.”

Patrick moved his lips to yours, kissing you with a sloppy brush of his tongue against yours. “Like that?”

You shook your head and leaned in, deepening the kiss with slow laps of your tongue into his mouth. He moaned softly, matching your pace in a way that was rare, but made butterflies dance around in your stomach. He pulled you on top of him— hands roaming from the backs of your thighs to squeeze your ass as he deepened the kiss. It was just as slow and sweet as before, but you could sense the need and hunger behind it.

You pulled back, just enough to remove your lips from his. Both of your breaths came in needy pants. You weren’t sure why you were enjoying this, but you were, so you kept going. “He took off my clothes, and laid me down on the bed.”

Patrick moaned, chasing your lips. You sat back and just looked at him— lying there with still-damp curls, his pupils blown with lust. His cock was hard, resting against his stomach, precum beading at the tip.

You pulled off Art’s hoodie and tossed it across the room, relishing in the way Patrick’s eyes raked over every bit of exposed skin like it was the first time he’d seen it. “He ate me out, made me cum on his fingers first, then again while he was inside of me,” Patrick’s breath caught, just for a moment. Desire, or jealousy, or both flickered across his gaze. “He fucked me like he wanted me to fall in love with him again.”

Patrick’s chest was heaving as you moved a hand between your bodies, grasping his cock in your hand, stroking slowly. “Is that how you fucked Tashi? Like you wanted her to pick you instead of her fiancé?” He moaned as your thumb ran over his slit, smearing the precum that had begun to dribble out. 

“No,” He groaned. You nodded encouragingly, squeezing him tighter in your fist. “Fuck. I fucked her like I wanted her to know she made a mistake. Made her cum until she tapped out”

You ran a thumb over his bottom lip, tugging slightly. “With this pretty mouth, huh?” He nodded, wordlessly. “And with this?” You gave a slow stroke of his dick, making him buck up into your fist. Another nod. 

“Show me.”

Patrick’s brows furrowed in disbelief. “Show you?”

You nodded and continued stroking him. “I told you about Art, so I want you to show me how you fucked Tashi.”

You recognized the fucking insanity of what you were asking, but you didn’t care. It was a strange form of closure— closing the circle, or whatever. 

“Fuck, okay. Lay back,” he said, patting your thigh. You slid off his lap and settled atop the sheets, watching him expectantly. 

His fingers hooked in the waistband of your panties, and he slid them down slowly. “Fuck.” Your cheeks flooded with heat as he held the sodden fabric up, wet and sticky with Art’s cum. He groaned and hooked your thighs over his shoulders. “That’s… god, that’s really fucking hot, baby.”

Oh. The mix of embarrassment and desire was something new— burning hot in the pit of your stomach as Patrick licked at your pussy, tasting the evidence of your arousal mingling with Art’s release. He moaned against you, holding you so tightly that his fingers dimpled your thighs. 

His tongue lapped at your entrance, pushing into your cunt as deep as he could manage, then back to licking at your clit. It was messy— a combination of spit and cum and your juices.

“Fuck!” You cried out, tugging his hair as he sealed his lips around your clit. He moaned loudly against you, encouraging you to do it again, the fucking masochist. 

He redoubled his efforts, pulling you closer, moaning against your cunt. It was like he wanted to devour you, to lick up every bit of Art that was left inside of you. You wanted him to try— you wanted him to replace every part of Art that was left in your body and soul.

“Patrick,” you gasped. He murmured an mhmm against your pussy. Eyes closed, right at home between your thighs, lost in the taste of you. “Need you inside.”

He planted one, two sloppy kisses to your clit before he pulled back, his lips shiny with your arousal. He wiped the mess away with the back of his hand, smirking down at you. “You need me, huh?”

You nodded, chest heaving with each panting breath. Patrick sat down at the headboard and patted his thigh. “Prove it.”

You sat up, crawling up the bed until you were straddling his lap. “You made her do all the work?” 

He laughed, running his hands up your thighs to squeeze your ass, tug you closer. “I didn’t make her do anything.” Patrick had a hand wrapped around his cock, and you moaned softly as he guided it between your thighs to notch at your entrance. 

You sank down slowly, forehead pressed against his as you took inch after inch. “Fuck,” you breathed. You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his as you gave a slow roll of your hips. “Fuck. You’re so deep, Pat. Feels so good.”

His head fell back against the headboard as you began to ride him in earnest. “Fuck, just like that,” he groaned, still wearing that fucking smirk, even balls deep inside of you. “That’s it, baby, take what you need.”

And you did. The way he was looking at him was proof enough, he was eating up every fucking second of you fucking yourself on him, using him like a toy. 

Your noises were near-pornographic— Right there, fuck, you’re so big baby, so fucking deep.

The poor soul next door slammed on the wall, begging for you to just shut the fuck up. Patrick silenced you with a hungry kiss— a mess of tongues and spit. His fingers moved on your clit, pulling you towards the edge with desperate need. 

“Close,” you gasped. 

He nodded, moving his fingers faster. “I know you are. I’ve got you.” 

You collapsed on top of him as you came— hips canting weakly as he worked you through it. He thrust up into your tight walls, groaning at the feeling of your cunt spasming around his cock. 

“Fuck, you feel so perfect,” he groaned, burying his face into the junction of your throat. “Gonna cum— fuck—“

You moaned softly at the feeling of him spilling inside of you— the soft pulse of him, the warmth of his cum flooding your cunt. You stayed on his lap, kissing his freckled nose, his eyelids, his mouth. 

When you finally moved off of him, you whimpered at that loss of fullness, and of the slick mess seeping out between your thighs. If you were smart, you would’ve gone and cleaned up, but there was nothing more you wanted than to lay there in Patrick’s arms and fall asleep. 

Whatever. You’d leave housekeeping a very generous tip. He sighed contentedly as you lay there— like you were made to fit against him perfectly.  A warm hand rubbed comforting circles on your back, and you felt so at home, even in an Atlanta hotel. 

“I love you, you know that?” He asked.

You looked up and nodded. “I know. I love you too.”

You found yourself staring up over at Patrick with a stupid, persistent smile on your face. He turned to watch you watching him, wearing a matching grin on his face. It was hard to tell who started laughing first— you or Patrick. At the absurdity of it all, at yourselves. 

“God, we’re so messed up,” you said, with another laugh.

He nodded. “Really messed up, but whatever. Apparently your brain isn’t even fully developed until you’re 25.”

“Great, so we have one more year until we’re normal, rational adults.” He laughed, holding you against his chest. 

He reached over and kissed your forehead. You were so sticky and gross that you really needed a shower, but, again— it was a tomorrow problem.

It fell quiet, and you could feel yourself slipping into comfortable drowsiness when Patrick finally spoke up. “Are we going to be okay?”

You blinked slowly. With your hand resting on his chest, you could feel his heart thudding just beneath your palm.

When you were twenty, you met Patrick’s parents. Crowded into his childhood bed with your head resting against his chest, his heart pounded as he apologized for the intense grilling you’d received that night at dinner. It was the first time you ever felt like his bravado had been shaken, like you were seeing through to the core of him. 

You always knew you would be the one to say you loved him first— it was just the way things went. “I don’t care if they like me,” you had assured him. “I love you.” His heart beat harder, faster. He didn’t say it back until two days later, when he was fucking you in that very same bed— forehead to yours, skin sticky with sweat. “I love you,” breathed into your mouth like air. 

When you were twenty-two, you moved into an apartment in Manhattan and Patrick followed like a housecat— no rent, no job, just company and a mouth to feed. The tour wasn’t going well, and you were working for a shitty, clickbait news site that hardly covered the cost of your place. 

Things were good, mostly. Comfortable, domestic. Patrick tried to be a good boyfriend, you tried to be a good girlfriend. Both of you were trying to figure out what that meant for the other as best as you could. Patrick would bring you flowers from the corner store and take you out for drinks and dancing on weekends. You’d drive out on holidays to visit his family and wind up leaving early to go back to the comforts and peace of your apartment. 

When you could, you’d follow him out to tournaments. If he won, he’d take you out with the prize money. If he lost, you’d take him back to the hotel to cheer him up.

On rough days, one of you would come home to the apartment and pick a fight over laundry, or a dish left in the sink, or even what he’d left on TV, and the other would give it back tenfold. Your neighbors would beat on their walls in annoyance as you yelled at each other, until one of you slammed a door and sulked in another room for a few hours, or you had make-up sex that gave the neighbors another reason to bang on their walls. 

The breakups were infrequent but severe. You’d kick Patrick out, he’d live out of his car, or in a motel, or fuck off to some tennis tournament that you’d previously promised to go to. One of you always broke first, returning to the other with promises of love, and to do better.

You did love each other, really. And things usually got better. It was just easy to live with your feelings dialed up to a ten where Patrick was involved: bigger good moments, worse bad ones. 

Your career had vastly improved. Patrick had moved up in the rankings, only slightly, but it was something. You could afford a bigger apartment in a nicer area, maybe get a dog. And you didn’t just want those things alone, you wanted them with him. 

You pressed a kiss to the center of his chest and nodded. “We’ll be fine,” you assured. It felt like the truth.

He nodded, looking down at you. His freckles were so much more pronounced after tournament after tournament in the blazing sun. “Yeah, probably.”

The next morning, you both got the continental breakfast you’d seen in the elevator while housekeeping dealt with the aftermath of the previous night. You did tourist-y shit— went to a museum, found a nice spot for lunch.

At the end of the day, you sat in the oppressive Atlanta heat with Patrick and watched Art Donaldson win his tennis match. You and Patrick left early, fucked in the backseat of his car, and decided to head home early. 

As you started the drive back, you held his hand over the center console and listened to a shitty mix CD with songs he’d ripped off of LimeWire. You gave him shit when Kelly Clarkson followed Lil Wayne, but you both sang along to every fucking word. 

You were right. You and Patrick would probably be fine.

#patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson fanfic #patrick zweig fanfic #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig #art donaldson #challengers 2024 #challengers fanfic #challengers x reader #changeover au #my writing

[rocks-in-my-vodka]

lestat is the most glorious morally grey character in modern media rn and here’s why :

he is literally the vampire ever.like ever. every mythical creature, when stripped of its feathers and stage makeup (as in exaggerated monstrous behaviour to incite fear in humans as a form of enjoyment or just to create lore) at its heart reveals a mirror to humanity’s worst qualities. it’s rotten humanity’s most bent out of shape behaviours given a fantastic name, put in the body of folklore passed down centuries, ideas that we as people still cannot escape, we are just as fascinated by vampires and zombies and werewolves now as we were 500 years ago and it’s truly because ( and i’ll talk abt vampires here specifically) vampires are everything a normal human would like to be but as all things it can only be achieved by a complete perversion of our “moral ideals”, a rejection of morality and humanity. and lestat is a diva at playing this part

like think abt it. you’re a vampire. you will never die, you will be young and youthful, you will have strength beyond belief, you will have the ability to create (fire) from nothing, super speed, flying, all fantastic things humans themselves work tirelessly to achieve. but at the cost of what? you must sustain yourself on the blood of others, thus, you must consider your own self more deserving to live than the mortals, you must decide daily that you are more important, you matter infinitely more, that the people who were once your brethren are now simple prey, there for you to literally drain the life out of, who else can make this choice of whose life matters more than others’, other than some kind of a god? everything around you will change, you will remain, the eternal witness, the immortal hunter, a living juxtaposition of a savage creature who hunts like an animal for blood and at the same time a narcissist who thinks itself above mortals. and lestat is exactly this. he is a walking contradiction and yet you will believe everything he claims because it is all true, because he has a thousand lifetimes stored in him, because these creatures have worn a hundred skins and a million faces, at what point do you forget where your skin begins and your mask ends? where lestat the young actor began and lestat the devastated, angry, jealous lover ended?

and yet everything he says is true. when he tells you he would murder you in cold blood while you sleep, it’s true, when he tells you he loves you more than anything in the world, it’s true. he contains multitudes, contradictions get neutralised inside him like nebulas colliding. as a vampire, you get to do the one thing that, as a mortal, eats you alive from the moment you are born, and that is : meet your maker. when you’re born as a human, you can only imagine your maker, hear stories, believe lies, but never see for yourself, as a vampire, in your second life, in your living death, you can know your maker, your master, your maitre. so when you look lestat in the eyes, in his cold glassy undead vicious eyes, you realise he is your god. and if this god said to you he would burn you in pain and misery forever for not believing in his love, you believe him, when he says he will lead you into glorious heaven like the lord shepherd you believe him, because you know he will. he knows only killing, only savagery, only the kind of love that is realised in complete bodily physicality, viciously, unforgivingly, through pain and death, not a love that is simply felt but never materialised. when he says he will kill you if you disobey him, you know he will, when he says he stitched your initials into his chest pocket so your name cradles his heart, you know he did. he is a boy, a monster, a puppy, a wolf, a savage manipulative liar and a killer, and the eternal lover, betrayed and frozen in time and memory, his memory too a monster

#I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS #SAM REID WHAT HVE U DONE #HE FR SOLD HIS SOUL TO THE DEVIL TO PLAY THIS ROLE TO PERFECTION #i can’t stop thinking abt this #everyime he came on the screen i literally cheered #more of him pls #one gay vampir got me yapping like the yaplord #interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire season 2 #amc iwtv #iwtv s2 #iwtv spoilers #iwtv #iwtv 2022 #claudia #sam reid #jacob anderson #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt

[munsonsmixtapes]

🦇❤️‍🩹☔️

mechanic!Eddie x fem!reader

cw: make out session

You had hated Eddie Munson’s guts ever since he had accidentally ruined your science fair project in the third grade. Yes, he had claimed that it was an accident, but you weren’t so sure. You had been convinced that it was premeditated. That he had done it on purpose because he was convinced that you were going to win and he wanted to put a stop to it however he could. But you were on to him.

And Eddie didn’t like you either. But solely because he had tried to apologize multiple times over the years into to have you call him a liar and yell at him because you were still so angry with him even though it had been seventeen years since the incident. If he was being honest, he kind of found it hot when you yelled at him like that.

Every time you crossed paths in town, you both would turn the other way, not even wanting to make eye contact. Your blood boiled every time your eyes locked in his brown ones and you had to look away immediately, even though you kind of liked the way they looked. But only kind of.

You were on your way to Robin’s, driving as carefully as you could as it stormed outside, rain hitting your car you drove down the road. You hated driving in it, but knew that you didn’t have a choice since you had were already in your way. You had to be there in ten minutes and definitely weren’t going to make it on time.

As if it couldn’t get any worse, your car broke down, but at least you had enough time to pull off to the side of the road so you could get out of the way of traffic. You called Robin to let her know that you had to cancel then called AAA for roadside assistance.

You knew that would take a while so you sat there, turning on the proper lights to let people know you were in need of assistance. If it hadn’t been storming, you definitely would have just walked to the mechanic that was down the road, but hearing the thunder and seeing the lightning deterred you. You knew that getting struck by it was rare, but you weren’t taking any chances.

Out of the blue, a van pulled up in front of your car and you grabbed the pepper spray from your purse as you watched the stranger get out of their vehicle. They approached you and knocked on your window. You immediately recognized that it was Eddie. What the hell was he doing there? Whatever it was, you didn’t want it.

You slowly rolled your windows down and Eddie leaned down so he could talk to you. You took in his very wet hair and scruffy facial hair. His nose ring. His lip ring. He looked…hot and you didn’t like admitting that.

“Car break down?” He asked, making sure that his voice was loud enough to hear over the rain. You were in no position to say no to help, so you didn’t.

“It broke down and I’m too scared to get out to check.”

“Allow me.” Before you could protest, Eddie ran over to your hood and opened it to see that his suspicious were correct. Your battery was dead. You got out of the car and headed towards him to see what the damage was.

“Your battery is dead. I’ve got keys to place down the street I can call a tow to get you there. In the meantime, I can stay with you.”

“You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you. And I’m not gonna just leave you here all by yourself late at night in the rain.” He was going to stay with you despite his dislike for you? That was definitely more than you would have done for him.

You watched him call the tow truck and wondered what he was playing at. Why was he being so nice when you had been nothing but rude to him for practically your whole lives?

“Why are you doing this?” You asked as soon as he hung up. You didn’t understand and really wanted some answers.

“Just because you hate me doesn’t mean that I hate you. Actually, hearing you insult me is actually kinda hot. I like seeing you riled up.”

“So you did all of that shit just because you like seeing me pissed off?”

“Guilty,” he shrugged. You didn’t know what you were doing, but as soon as the word left his mouth, you pulled him into a kiss, your fingers gripping his shirt tightly. He gasped into your mouth, but quickly melted into you his hands moving to your waist as your lips moved together.

He moved your head back to he could get more access to your mouth as he pushed his tongue into it, letting it scrape against yours. His facial hair scratched against your skin and that mixed with your tongues tangling was driving you wild. He backed you up to the hood of your car and helped you sit on it as he spread your legs, stepping between them.

“I still hate you by the way,” you mumbled against his lips.

“By the end of the night, you won’t be saying that,” he smirked and pulled you in for another kiss before taking you by the hand and leading you to his van to have his way with you right there in the back of it.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff

[theodorenmyth]

The riddle brothers having a childhood best friend (reader) who can’t hear for shit 😭. Speaking from experience, I thought my friend said instruments instead of insurance and if was embarrassing…

-🦋

Misheard Magic

Pairings : Tom Riddle x M! Reader x Mattheo Riddle Summary : At Hogwarts, your unreliable hearing leads to amusing mix-ups with your best friends, Tom and Mattheo Riddle. Despite the frequent misunderstandings, the Riddle brothers always ensure you're included, showing that true friendship endures even the funniest miscommunications. Warnings) : Nothing! Word count : 900+

The Great Hall buzzed with the familiar din of hundreds of students chatting, utensils clinking against plates, and the occasional explosion of laughter. You sat between your two best friends, Tom and Mattheo Riddle, trying to catch snippets of conversation. The three of you had been inseparable since first year, and despite their notorious reputations, you knew the Riddle brothers had hearts of gold, especially when it came to you.

“Hey, did you hear about the new flying class professor?” Tom asked, leaning over to you.

You furrowed your brow, tilting your head slightly. “The new frying pan professor?”

Mattheo choked on his pumpkin juice, laughing. “No, no, the new flying class professor!”

“Oh,” you said, cheeks warming with embarrassment. “Right, the flying class professor.”

Tom chuckled softly, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “No worries. It happens to the best of us.”

Moments like these were common in your friendship. Your hearing had always been a bit unreliable, leading to countless mix-ups and misunderstandings. Tom and Mattheo had learned to be patient with you, often repeating themselves without complaint.

“Have you finished your Transfiguration essay?” Mattheo asked, turning to you with a curious look.

You squinted, trying to make sense of his words over the clamor. “Did I finish my transportation essay?”

Tom burst out laughing, the sound warm and contagious. “No, he asked about your Transfiguration essay. But now I’m curious—what’s a transportation essay?”

“Maybe it’s about how to Apparate without splinching yourself,” Mattheo suggested, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You giggled, shaking your head. “I think I’d fail that one. Still working on my Transfiguration essay, though.”

The three of you continued chatting, the conversation meandering from classes to Quidditch matches. You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned to see Hermione Granger standing behind you, a curious look on her face.

“Can I borrow your notes for Potions?” she asked, her voice cutting through the noise.

“Can you borrow my coats?” you repeated, frowning in confusion.

“No, notes,” Hermione said, enunciating clearly. “For Potions.”

“Oh! Sure, they’re in my bag,” you replied, feeling your face flush. Hermione gave you a kind smile, retrieving the notes with a grateful nod before heading back to her seat.

Mattheo turned to you with a grin. “You know, it’s moments like these that keep our lives interesting.”

“Or embarrassing,” you muttered, but couldn’t help but smile at his teasing.

Later that day, you found yourself in the library with the Riddle brothers, working on various assignments. The quiet atmosphere made it easier for you to follow conversations, but your hearing still played tricks on you from time to time.

“Have you thought about what electives you’re taking next year?” Tom asked, looking up from his book.

You frowned, trying to decipher his words. “Have I thought about what detectives I’m taking next year?”

Mattheo snickered, earning a reproachful look from Madam Pince. “Electives,” he whispered, leaning closer. “Not detectives.”

“Oh, right,” you said, feeling the familiar flush of embarrassment. “I’m thinking of Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures.”

Tom nodded approvingly. “Good choices. I’m considering Arithmancy and Alchemy.”

“I’m just hoping to get through without blowing anything up,” Mattheo said with a grin. “Potions and Herbology for me.”

As the conversation continued, you felt a sense of warmth and belonging. Despite the occasional misunderstandings, Tom and Mattheo never made you feel left out. They repeated themselves without complaint, making sure you were always part of the conversation.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

One afternoon, a week later, you were walking through the castle grounds with Tom and Mattheo, enjoying the crisp autumn air. Tom was recounting a story from his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and you were doing your best to keep up.

“So, Professor Lupin said we need to make sure our insurance is in order before we start the next lesson,” Tom explained, his tone serious.

You stopped in your tracks, blinking in confusion. “Wait, we need instruments for the next lesson?”

Mattheo doubled over with laughter, clutching his sides. “No, he said insurance! But can you imagine if we needed instruments for DADA?”

“Maybe we could ward off dark creatures with our musical talents,” Tom suggested, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You laughed along with them, the sound echoing across the grounds. “I think I’d be doomed. My musical skills are nonexistent.”

“Then it’s a good thing we don’t actually need instruments,” Mattheo said, still grinning.

As the sun set, casting long shadows across the castle, you sat by the Black Lake with Tom and Mattheo, the conversation turning more reflective.

“You know,” Tom said quietly, “I really appreciate how you handle your hearing. You never let it hold you back.”

Mattheo nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you’re always so resilient. It’s one of the things we admire most about you.”

Their words warmed your heart, and you smiled at them. “Thanks. I couldn’t do it without you two. You always make sure I’m included, even when I misunderstand everything.”

Tom placed a hand on your shoulder, his expression sincere. “We’re a team. We’ll always have your back.”

Mattheo nodded, a soft smile on his lips. “Absolutely. Besides, life would be pretty boring without your unique interpretations of everything.”

You laughed, feeling a swell of affection for your two best friends. “Well, here’s to more misunderstandings and more adventures together.”

Tom and Mattheo raised imaginary glasses, their smiles matching yours. “To more adventures,” they echoed.

As you sat by the lake, the stars beginning to twinkle overhead, you knew that no matter how many words you misheard, you’d always have Tom and Mattheo by your side. And that was all that mattered.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherin x reader #slytherin boys imagine #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys react #theodorenmyth #harry potter x reader #harry potter x male reader #harry potter fandom #harry potter #harry potter universe #harry potter fanfiction #hp fic #hp x male reader #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #hp #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle headcanon #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x male reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x you

[discordantwritings]

Discipline (Crocodile x Reader)

Warnings: Fem! Reader, mean dom Crocodile, bratty Reader, spanking, fingering, orgasm denial, overstimulation, PiV sex, inappropriate use of Crocodile’s hook, creampie

WC: 4K

Summary: Despite your dad’s warnings you decide to go have some fun at Rain Dinners. Sir Crocodile decides to keep an eye out for you- but he’s not expecting just how unreceptive you’d be towards his help. Seems like he will have to teach you some lessons…

Notes: I just like when he’s mean ok

Tagging: @keiva1000 @fanaticsnail

“Are you sure you want to come? You know how dangerous some of these people are…” Your father’s worried voice causes you to hesitate on your way out the door.

“Dad, it’s not like anyone would hurt me, they know I’m your daughter. And besides- you never let me have fun I just want to play at the casino! I probably won’t interact with any of your contacts.” You do your best not to be annoyed with him, he’s well meaning but overly paranoid- although that’s probably why he’s been so successful in dealing with so many pirates.

“Just- promise me you you’ll do your best to keep safe alright?” He looks at you with earnest that melts any budding defiance you had.

“Of course.” You wrap your arms around your dad’s shoulders and pull him into a tight hug.

“Alright kiddo let’s get going.” He squeezes you once before letting go and opening the door for you, letting you lead the way to Rain Dinners.

You knew it was going to be loud but nothing could prepare you for the overlapping sounds of slot machines, roulette tables, cards, and yelling all coming together in a wall of noise. While off putting for a second you quickly adjusted- the loud hustle and bustle was just what you wanted to experience. Bouncing on the balls of your feet you give your dad a thumbs up before bounding off further into the casino, ignoring the worry on his face.

You quickly find yourself at a blackjack table- the only game you have some confidence in your ability to not lose all your berry immediately- and strike up friendly conversation with the people already at the table. You’re not ignorant of the way some of the men lean in when you talk, the way the man sitting next you tried to guide your choices. The attention was exactly what you wanted, giggling as you played dumb and let the man on your right explain to you that you should always double on an eleven as if you didn’t know that already. The attention rode the line on smothering- which is why you noticed when everyone suddenly went cold and glued their eyes to the table.

“Find another table.” A gruff voice sounded to your right and for a second you think it’s directed at you but when you see the man sitting next to you scramble away without his chips you realize what’s going on.

Sir Crocodile, owner of Rain Dinners and notorious pirate slides into the seat next to you, golden hook absently counting the chips left on the table. You can’t help but stare at him, broad shoulders pushing into your space and imposing presence making everyone else at the table slowly collect their chips and leave.

“Don’t tell me I’m getting kicked out already.” You smile up at him, already mapping the features of his handsome face.

“No, certainly not. You’re a valuable customer.” There’s a twinge of sarcasm to his voice that has you raising your eyebrow.

“Now don’t sound so enthusiastic.” You watch as he slides a bet forward and you do the same, letting the dealer get the round started.

“Your father called in a favor.” The dealer is showing a ten and you frown at your sixteen.

“Do I want to know what my dad did to get a favor from you?” You joke but Crocodile is still gravely serious.

“No.” Of course he has twenty in front of him so he waves and leaves you to pick your move.

“I’ll hit.” You tap the table and the dealer flips a card- a five.

Crocodile scoffs next to you as the dealer flips over his own seventeen. You shoot him a look as he lights an expensive cigar.

“You don’t hit on sixteens? It’s statistically even, one way isn’t better than the other.” You explain yourself but Crocodile just shrugs you off.

“I just don’t like seeing berry leave my casino.”

“Well I’m not leaving yet.” You slide another bet forward and Crocodile does the same.

“I doubt playing with me is the thrilling night out you wanted, you should just take your small winnings and get out of here.” As he does his best to dismiss you you realize exactly what your dad has done.

“He called in a favor for you to be my babysitter tonight didn’t he?” Crocodile rolls his eyes and you know you’re right. “He’s so… sometimes I don’t think he realizes I’m an adult.”

“Barely.” He scoffs and you glare back.

“More than barely. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to- I’m perfectly fine in a casino by myself.” You focus back on the table as you win another hand.

“I can’t imagine you weren’t aware of the way the sharks were circling you.”

“I was. And I was in control of the situation. I wanted the attention.” As you talk Crocodile pauses, turning slightly to face you more.

“You don’t realize how dangerous most of these people are.” You feel like you’re being talked down to like a child.

“What? And being alone with you is so much better. You’re not going to hurt me because it would ruin your relationship with my dad. The rest of them would do the same.” You stare him down but he just laughs at you.

“Oh, sweetheart, no one wants to hurt you. Those men wanted to take advantage of you.”

It’s your turn to laugh. “It’s not taking advantage of me if I want it.”

You watch as his eyes scan your face for a second before a grin settles on his face. “Your dad was right to have me watch over you.”

“I highly doubt you would care enough to stop me from going off and doing whatever- or whoever I want.” You fire back, blackjack game long forgotten.

“If you had done that before we had this conversation you would have been right. But now? I think you need to learn some manners.”

“Manners? Excuse me?” You can’t even get in his face, his figure towers over you even as you both sit.

“Yes, manners. Your father gets a very powerful man to protect you for the night and this is how you treat that kindness? With a bratty attitude?” You’re getting under his skin, his fist balled in his lap evidence of his waning patience.

“You’re stopping me from having a good night out. I think I have a little right to be pissed.” You say, dodging the probably appropriate brat label.

“You really don’t know how those disgusting men would treat you.”

“Oh- I am fully aware. Didn’t you hear me before? I want to be taken advantage of.” You push yourself up a bit to get some more height as you lower your voice. “I want one of those disgusting men to take me home. Well, honestly I’d settle for one of the very nice bathrooms here. Oh I bet there are some nice secluded alleyways around here… I don’t mind a brick wall if I’m being fucked well enough.”

The vulgarity of your words catches him off guard for a second and you let a smug smile come over your face- only for it to be quickly wiped away as Crocodile literally throws you over his shoulder.

“What the fuck!” You yell as he starts walking somewhere. “Put me down you piece of shit!”

Your objections fall on deaf ears as you’re hauled into an elevator and taken to some higher floor. You huff and stop yelling as he gets off the elevator and practically throws you onto a plush couch. When your brain orients itself you find yourself in a very nice office- one you quickly put together is Crocodile’s.

“What am I doing here?” You ask as he walks to his desk and sits behind it, already getting out paperwork.

“This is where I can keep an eye on you so you don’t do anything stupid tonight.” He explains like it’s a basic fact.

“Seriously? You can just kick me out of your casino instead of putting me in this weird time out.”

“I told your father I would watch after you tonight. As much as I want to kick you out I wouldn’t be holding up my end of the deal.”

“Perfect. Great. Whatever.” You pull your legs up on the couch and lay down. “So tomorrow night-“

“You’re not allowed back.”

“You could be at least a little fun.”

“I’m not really known for my levity.”

“Clearly.”

The room falls silence except for the scratch of his pen and the occasional shuffle of paper. You let your gaze drift over to him as he works. His large coat was draped over the back of his chair, leaving him in just his vest and button up shirt. You could probably watch the way his muscles subtly flex under the tight fabric of his shirt for hours. And so you let yourself watch, rolling over and perching your head up to at least give yourself some entertainment. You get probably 15 minutes of this before Crocodile’s eyes meet your own and his brows furrow.

“What?” You ask, smug smile on your face once again.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” You play innocent, head tilting slightly.

He doesn’t play into your game. “Staring.”

“Ok so I can’t play in the casino and I can’t even look at you so what am I supposed to do? Just lay here and stare at the ceiling?”

“Yes.”

You groan and dramatically flop onto your back. “Fucking impossible.”

“Well, when you act like a child you get treated like one.” He comments and that causes you to sit upright.

“Really? This again?”

“You’re throwing a temper tantrum so, yes.”

You get up and stalk over to his desk, standing on the opposite side and slamming your hands down, which in hindsight was not helping your case. “Let me leave.”

“No.” He ignores you and continues on his paperwork.

You walk around his desk and are about to rip some of the paper off of it but Crocodile is fast and the point of his hook is at your neck before you can blink. Adrenaline rushes though your veins as you fight to stay still as the cold metal threatens to pierce your skin. Crocodile hasn’t even gotten up from his seat, simply turned just enough so his hook can reach you. His gaze is cold as he looks you up and down and you feel fear creep up your spine.

“Do you know what I would have done to you if your father wasn’t a close contact of mine?” He asks, voice even.

“Kill me?” You guess, given the deadly weapon a few inches from ripping open your throat.

“Oh, no.” He stands up, moving slow and deliberately so his body towers over you and cages you against his desk with the point of his hook still at your throat. “I would have fucked this bratty attitude out of you on that blackjack table.”

Fear quickly bleeds into arousal, warming your skin and stomach. The power he holds over you is absolute there’s not a single doubt in your mind he could and would kill you- and for some reason that made you want him more. You test how much you can move, leaning back into his desk with both your arms behind you for support. The hook follows you but the movement doesn’t draw any punishment. Looking into his eyes you use your support to push yourself up to sit on the desk, already short dress riding further up your thighs. You watch his gaze dart down to your legs for a second and you know you’ve won.

“In front of all those people?” You press your neck gently into the point of his hook. “Took you for someone a little more private.”

“No one would dare look.” His hook drags upwards and settles under your chin, forcing you to keep eye contact.

You don’t move your head but you open up your thighs, the fabric of your dress bunched up where your ass sits on the desk. He keeps eye contact with you but you know he’s felt your movement as he steps forward, his large thighs now keeping your knees apart.

“You really think you can break my resolve?” He asks, voice low and gravely.

“I think I can convince you that you’re a very smart man who knows that I’ll keep this a secret from my father. Or…” You hum. “That this already looks very very bad for you. I could run down to my dad right now and say you… debauched me. Everyone already saw you take me over your shoulder and up to your very private-“

“That’s it.”

Before you can react Crocodile grabs your hips and forces you to turn, chest pressed against his desk and ass displayed for him. He shoves your dress up to your hips, fully revealing the incredibly small thong you wore tonight. His hook presses between your shoulder blades as his hand rubs over your ass, grabbing handfuls occasionally.

“Maybe I can teach you a lesson.” His hand stills and you look over your shoulder at him.

“What? Gonna make me beg-“

Your words are cut off by a harsh slap to your ass, the sting of skin on skin making your grip tighten on the wood of the desk. His hand rubs over the red mark forming as you see and feel him lean over you.

“I am going to make you beg. That smart little mouth is going to be doing nothing but pleading with me.” One of his fingers finds its way under the strap of your thong around your hip, pulling it up until you think it’s going to break before letting go and letting it snap against your skin. “Don’t worry. You’ll get off if you learn to be obedient.”

“Don’t you think for a second you fucking reptile-“ You hear the spank before you feel it and you have to bite down on your cheek as the pain blooms out from the impact.

“You can call me sir and nothing else.” He growls, pinching the spot he just hit causing tears to well up in your eyes.

“Fuck you.” You spit back, only to earn another swift hit that further presses you against the desk.

“That’s not how you get what you want.” His fingers go beneath the strap of your thong again, this time pulling the thin fabric over your crotch. “Although by the looks of it I’d say this is what you want.”

Your face burns red as you realize that he can see how soaking wet you are, slick drenching the scrap of fabric between his fingers. “Don’t get cocky.”

“Still so much attitude…” He sighs.

He pulls on the fabric until it snaps, ripping it free from your body. His foot kicks at one of yours, forcing your legs wide suddenly. There’s another swift hit to your ass that has you swearing under your breath but his hand lingers, fingers dipping between your thighs. You moan as a thick finger shoves its way inside you, easily slipping in with how wet you are. A second finger stretches you open and with how worked up you’ve been the whole night it’s not surprising that you already feel so close to your orgasm. You press your hips back to get him deeper but just as you feel like you’re getting close his fingers leave you.

“No! Fuck!” You try to stand up but his hook shoved you right back into the desk.

“What? Did you really think I was going to let you cum?” His hand continues to grope your ass, dragging your slick across your skin.

“You’re a piece of shit.” You mumble and he laughs.

“This could all be over. You could just be a good girl and I’d let you cum on my fingers or my cock… but you keep choosing to be a brat.” His fingers dip between your folds again. “You’ll come around eventually.”

Now you had a goal, if you could just get there faster before Crocodile realizes you’ll have beaten him. As his fingers slowly work into you you do your best to will yourself to orgasm faster but he can feel the way your walls react and is able to pull out again before you get too close. You yell as Crocodile chuckles at you, reveling in your suffering.

“It’s so easy. C’mon now.” His fingers press into you again and you feel like you’re going mad.

This cycle repeats until you lose track of how many times your orgasm has been ripped away from you. He can’t keep his fingers in you for more than a few seconds before you’re about to orgasm now, your body on edge and strung out. You’re not sure what’s the last straw- but you break.

“Please.” Your voice is hoarse as you plead quietly.

“What’s that?” Crocodile stops his movements and leans in closer to you.

“Please!” You repeat, louder.

“Not quite- I know you know better.” His hook rubs between your shoulder blades.

“Please, sir.”

But just when you thought that would be enough, he moves the goalpost. “Much better, but I know you could do just a little more. You had all these vulgar words before… where did those go? Are you suddenly shy?”

There’s still a small part of you that wants to fight back at those words, but you’ve come so far at this point that the bratty voice inside is easily snubbed out. You look over your shoulder at him, face stained with tears and swallow your pride.

“Please let me cum sir. On your fingers, on your cock, fuck I’ll take your hook just please-“ You plead and you’re afraid it’s not enough when he pulls back and sits down in his office chair.

You wait a few seconds before you slowly stand up straight and look back at Crocodile. He’s sitting with his legs wide in his large chair, hands slowly working at the buttons on his pants that strain against his large bulge. You watch, entranced, as the buttons open and he drags the waistband of his boxers down under his cock to free it. When his movements pause you look up at his face and he smiles, a single finger beckoning you over.

Your wobbly legs manage to carry you the short distance and he guides you to straddle his lap. His hand moves his cock so his tip drags against your folds and you move your hands to his shoulders to steady yourself. When he stops moving you take the initiative to slowly lower yourself onto his cock, both of you moaning as he fills you up. Taking him would have been a struggle if he hasn’t already been edging you for god knows how long, but even so you feel his girth stretch your walls close to their limit.

“Fuck- see? Being a good girl is so much better isn’t it?” His hand firmly grips your hip while his hook rests behind your back.

“It’s- it’s nice.” You relent, but wiggle your hips to encourage him to move.

“Just nice?” His head tilts and he has a smug grin on his face.

“What do I have to say to get you to move?” You snap back, brattiness threatening to rear its head again.

“Oh, sweetie. You wanted this so bad, you’re going to do the work yourself.” He leans back into the chair, hand now loose on your hip.

“But-“ You start to protest but he cuts you off.

“You still need to make up for your attitude. Now, be a good girl and fuck yourself on my cock.”

You want to be angry. You want to smack that smug look off his face. You want to spit in his eyes and leave him here. But more than any of that some deep traitorous part of you wants to be a good girl for him. That maybe making him cum too would earn you some respect or praise. And most of all you just need an orgasm.

Your thighs are already burning as you raise yourself up, you have to use the support of his shoulders as you try not to let the drag of his cock take away your little remaining control over your legs. Dropping yourself back down is a relief in more ways than one- your muscles getting a short break while his cock hits deep inside you. Just one thrust has you needing a break, leaning forward to press your forehead to his.

“That’s it-“ His thumb rubs over your hip in a surprisingly soft move. “You’re so close already, I can feel you tightening around me.”

You nod wordlessly as you raise yourself up again, mouth hanging open as you savor every inch of him. When you drop yourself down you hold yourself there, grinding your hips down, chasing the sensations you need to bring you over the edge.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me and cum all over my cock?” He asks, and those filthy words send your orgasm crashing over you.

The release after so much denial is overwhelming, stars swimming in your vision as your head collapses on Crocodile’s shoulder. You’re confident you’ve made a mess of his very expensive pants but you’re also sure you don’t care. Crocodile doesn’t give you a second to rest though.

His strong hand maneuvers you around, twisting you until your back is to his chest and your legs are over top of his. You make a noise of confusion, unable to form words, but are quickly shushed.

“I’ll do the work this time- don’t worry.” You can still hear the that smug smile but you suddenly don’t care when he starts thrusting up into you.

The new angle paired with the fact you were still feeling your orgasm has you practically screaming, reaching up and behind you to tangle your fingers in his dark hair. Every rough thrust hits your bruised ass, sparking new pain that you are learning you love.

“Fucking tight- see this is all you needed huh? A good fucking? Next time maybe I’ll get all those mean words out of your mouth by shoving my cock down your throat- shit- I feel how much you like that idea.” His arm is holding you tight against his chest as he says all these nasty things into your ear.

“Sir-“ Your body feels like it’s on fire, overheated, overstimulated, and every inch of his cock drains what’s left of you.

“I know baby-“ He coos, and you feel the cold metal of his hook trail on your thigh. “Just need you to cum one more time, get me off like a good girl-“

The outside curve of his hook travels up your thigh and finds your clit, the sensation of the hard cold metal unlike anything you’ve ever felt there. He presses down firmly as his thrusts become faster and less consistent and despite having cum just a few minutes ago you’re pushed over the edge to another orgasm. Crocodile isn’t far behind you, burying himself inside your contracting walls and cumming deep inside you.

The two of you sit there in silence, both catching your breath as you feel his cum slowly leak out of you. He still has you held close to his chest and you can’t help but relax back into his hold, back of your head resting on his shoulder.

“So…” You break the silence first. “Am I still banned from the casino?”

“As far as your father is concerned? Yes. But don’t worry, I’ll show you where the back entrance is.” His nose brushes against your neck as he speaks. “I’m sure you’ll need a lot more discipline to keep you in check.”

And despite how absolutely destroyed you feel, you think that’s exactly what you’ll need too.

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #x reader #crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x reader #crocodile x you #sir crocodile x you #discordantwritings

[obsidian-pages777]

Pick a Card: What do you need to know about your most recent or current relationship. Pick a Sabrina Carpenter Image

Left to Right Top Row-> Pile 1 and Pile 3.

Left to Right Bottom Row-> Pile 3 and Pile 4

[Bonus: Taylor Swift Gifs for each pile]

In this world of duality, it is natural to encounter challenges in relationships. The following is an energy read of your current or most recent relationship which might have an impact on you in your current energy field. All in all what matters is the journey not just the destination.

================================================================================================

Pile 1: The Tower, Five of Cups, The Sun

Reading: The Tower card indicates that your current or most recent relationship has undergone a significant upheaval or unexpected change. This might have been a sudden breakup, a shocking revelation, or a major argument. The Tower represents the destruction of old structures to make way for new ones, suggesting that whatever has happened was necessary for your growth and transformation. This change, while painful, is an opportunity to rebuild on a stronger foundation.

The Five of Cups points to feelings of loss and regret. It suggests that you may be focusing on what has gone wrong in the relationship rather than seeing what still remains. This card encourages you to acknowledge your grief but also to shift your focus towards healing and finding hope. The Sun card brings a message of optimism and renewal. Despite the challenges, there is a bright future ahead. The Sun suggests that clarity, joy, and happiness are possible if you allow yourself to heal and embrace new beginnings with a positive mindset.

Characteristics of the Partner:

Pros:

Transformative: They bring significant change and help you grow through challenges.

Optimistic: Despite hardships, they have a sunny disposition and bring joy into your life.

Resilient: They have the ability to bounce back from difficulties and inspire you to do the same.

Cons:

Unpredictable: Their actions can be sudden and disruptive, leading to instability.

Focused on Loss: They may dwell on negative aspects and struggle with letting go of past hurts.

Intense: Their presence and influence can be overwhelming and emotionally taxing.

================================================================================================

Pile 2: The Lovers, Three of Swords, Temperance

Reading: The Lovers card signifies a deep connection and mutual attraction in your current or most recent relationship. This card highlights the importance of harmony, balance, and making choices that align with your values and desires. The Lovers also suggest that this relationship was or is significant in your life journey, teaching you important lessons about love and partnership.

The Three of Swords indicates heartbreak, betrayal, or emotional pain. This card reveals that there may have been issues of trust or miscommunication that led to sorrow. It’s important to acknowledge these wounds and give yourself time to heal. Temperance advises finding balance and moderation in your emotional responses. It encourages you to practice patience and to seek harmony within yourself. Healing will come through a balanced approach, blending the lessons learned with forgiveness and self-care.

Characteristics of the Partner:

Pros:

Deep Connection: They create a profound and meaningful bond, emphasizing love and harmony.

Romantic: They express their feelings deeply and are often very loving and attentive.

Balanced: They strive for harmony and balance in their relationships, promoting mutual growth.

Cons:

Heartbreaking: They may cause or experience significant emotional pain and betrayal.

Indecisive: Their need for balance might make them hesitant and unsure in making decisions.

Healing Required: They might bring baggage from past relationships that needs time to heal.

================================================================================================

Pile 3: The Empress, Knight of Cups, Seven of Wands

Reading: The Empress card suggests that your current or most recent relationship was nurturing and abundant. This relationship brought out your caring and supportive nature, and there was a strong emphasis on growth and mutual support. The Empress encourages you to continue nurturing yourself and those around you, even if the relationship has ended or is undergoing challenges.

The Knight of Cups represents romantic gestures and emotional expression. It suggests that there was a lot of passion and idealism in the relationship. However, this knight also reminds you to balance romantic ideals with practical realities. The Seven of Wands indicates that you may have faced challenges or opposition in the relationship. It suggests that standing your ground and defending your values was necessary. This card encourages you to stay resilient and maintain your integrity, even in the face of difficulties.

Characteristics of the Partner:

Pros:

Nurturing: They are caring and supportive, fostering growth and well-being.

Romantic: They are expressive and passionate, making grand gestures of love.

Resilient: They stand their ground and are willing to fight for what they believe in.

Cons:

Overprotective: Their nurturing nature might become overbearing or controlling.

Idealistic: Their romantic ideals may not always align with reality, causing disappointment.

Defensive: They might be overly defensive and resistant to change or criticism.

================================================================================================

Pile 4: The High Priestess, Four of Pentacles, Ace of Swords

Reading: The High Priestess card indicates that intuition and inner wisdom played a significant role in your current or most recent relationship. There may have been secrets or things left unsaid that influenced the dynamics. The High Priestess encourages you to trust your inner voice and seek deeper understanding of the situation through reflection and meditation.

The Four of Pentacles suggests that there may have been issues around control, security, or holding on too tightly. This card points to a need to examine where you might be clinging to the past or to certain expectations. Letting go of what no longer serves you is crucial for your personal growth. The Ace of Swords brings clarity and truth. It suggests that a new perspective or breakthrough is on the horizon. This card encourages clear communication and the pursuit of truth, both with yourself and others. Embrace this clarity to make informed decisions about your relationship's future.

Characteristics of the Partner:

Pros:

Intuitive: They are deeply intuitive and insightful, often understanding things on a deeper level.

Secure: They value stability and security, creating a solid foundation in the relationship.

Clear Communicator: They value truth and clarity, promoting honest communication.

Cons:

Secretive: They might keep things hidden or be difficult to read, leading to misunderstandings.

Possessive: Their need for security might manifest as possessiveness or control.

Blunt: Their directness can sometimes be harsh or hurtful, lacking sensitivity.

#tarot community #tarot reading #tarot cards #tarotblr #psychic readings #taylor swift #sabrina carpenter #pick a card reading #pick a pile #pick a card #pick a photo #pick one #pick a picture #pick a reading

[a-spes]

| BUT YOU SHALL BE MINE - Drabble (1.006 words).

| Summary - you've lost. the final battle against the scarlett witch finally came, and you've lost. all the world's greatest heroes are dead, except you.

| Tags & warning - Scarlett witch x R, enemies, wanda is dark, everyone is dead (oops), a bit of angst with twisted comfort (don't even know if it can be called comfort honestly), description of dead bodies, mentions of blood/death/violence/heavy injuries.

| MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

You made a terrible mistake when you didn't die.

Not that it was your choice, you've just had a bit of luck. That's what most people would think, but in your opinion it was more of a sentence. It was nothing more than a cruel joke from the universe, because what's a life where everyone you cherish is dead?

You won't even be able to bury them because there is no bodies to pick up. Only dust, or bits of those you love. You wouldn't even be able to tell what belong to whom — Could that be Tony's arm? Or maybe it belongs to Steve? You are not even sure it's a arm. It could be a leg, or rubble. In that state, it's difficult to say.

But maybe it's better that way. You have never been the strongest one, you would've never been able to carry all their bodies homes. Steve could've, he has a super strenght. Stark would've invented something, or perhaps paid people to help him. But you? You have nothing special. No powers, no skills above the average, nothing except your luck.

You somehow always manages to get out of impossible situations. From being able to escape Nat' when she is angry to survive deadly situations, nothing serious has ever happened to you. You've always seen that as a gift, but it turned out to be a curse.

Your second mistake was to try to get up.

Maybe if you didn't she wouldn't have noticed your presence. You knew you should've hide between two corpse, no matter how disguting that idea was, because maybe you would've escape her gaze. But you couldn't think properly, and condamned yourself the moment you moved. A faint, and painful move, which earned you what? Nothing, because you weren't even able to do more than resting of your forearms before slipping, head first into the mud.

It was painful, and humiliating, but not as much as knowning that there was nothing you could do to avenge your friends. At least, they died as heroes, trying to save humanity, and even if they failed, that's how the world is going to remember them as. They will be martyrs, and you'll be nothing. No one would remember the name of the Avengers' shadow that died squirming on the ground like a worm.

Somehow, you still had that spark in your heart, the urge to fight, but it was useless. If a whole army failed to defeat her, how could you? Maybe your body knew it because it doesn't respond to your requests anymore. You could hardly move your fingertips.

When your vision darkened, you thought it was the end of your pain. It's not that you could see anything anyway. On kilometers, there was nothing but desolation. Bodies piled up, the ones of your friends. Smoke raising in the sky, making you cought violently. And that red mist, the reason for all your woes. It was all blurred because of your tears before the world fade away.

"Ah, look at you," the woman said. That's when you realize that you didn't lose your eyes, her shoes were just blocking your view. "You're covered in blood, broken and lost, but yet ...," she chuckled before resuming her sentence, "you still think you can do something against me. How cute is that," she said, her tone dripping with false pity. Or maybe it was genuine, which only make the situation more humiliating for you.

"You are brave one though," she added, not noticing that you weren't listening. You couldn't, even if you wanted. Your mind was fuzy, and you ears were ringing due to explosions. "The last one standing ..., you should be proud, you know, not everyone can last that long against me," which is why she has been surprised when she felt an ounce of life. She thought her battle was over, that all forms of life had been exterminated for miles around, but it turned out that one hero was still standing.

Not the strongest or bravest one, but still the last one to breath. She kneels beside you, surprised that the last awakened soul resides in such a fragile-looking body. But the woman wasn't oblivious, and she could feel that there was more than that behind those pretty eyes. She wanted to believe that if the last person standing was such an innocent woman, it wasn't by chance. She saw it as a gift from the universe. At that thought, a smile spread across her face. A sweet and caring one, as comforting as the hand she is now running across your cheek. The one you're leaning on, appreciating that ounce of sweetness in your ocean of pain, not having enough energy to care about the person who's giving it to you. Her thumbs brushing your tears away, soothing you as if she wasn't the cause of your pain.

"Such a pretty face ...," she mumbled, "so much potential wrapped in that fragile body," she continued, her words slipping out of your ears until she eventually straightens up. "You know what? The realm of the dead probably won't mind if I keep one soul for myself," she conclued, considering that the small whimper that escaped your lips was an acknowledgement of her statement.

With a flick of the wrist, she envelops you in that red glow you hate so much. Slowly, your body is torn from the earth where your friends lie for the eternity. The red mist takes all the pain away, but also your chances of salvation.

"It's okay, you can rest now, my little soldier," she whispers, and those are the last words you can hear before the world disappears. The last two living creature leaving this desolate land behind in a second, as if they've never been here.

| REQUEST GUIDELINES — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Tag list - @m0nsterqzzz

#a spes writing #mcu fanfiction #mcu women #reader insert #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x reader #the scarlet witch #wanda maximoff angst #angst with comfort

[formulauno98]

A Birthday to Remember - Part One - Toto Wolff x Reader

Originally written as an OC, inspired by an amazing request from @latte-luxe, I have rewritten this to a Reader POV, no descriptions and no use of your name. The only brief description is of a butt (you can probably guess why).

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Caution may contain spice. 🌶️🌶️🌶️

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction, no-one is married in this alt-universe.

THE MORNING

It was Saturday morning and stepping out onto your balcony at the Fairmont Monte Carlo, you swept your eyes over the spectacular view. It was a pinch yourself to check if you’re dreaming kind of view of sparkling blue waters, peppered every so often with a gleaming white yacht.

“Good morning, birthday girl.” murmured a husky, heavily accented voice from behind you. Before you even had the chance to turn around, a pair of muscular arms swooped around from behind, coming to rest on your hips, large hands gently squeezing your curves.

“Good morning to you too,” you said, turning around and leaning up to kiss your tall towel-clad Austrian companion, resting your hand on his bare chest as he pressed himself tightly against you. It was yet another pinch me I’m dreaming moment. If someone had told you this time yesterday that this was how you would be spending your Saturday morning you would have laughed and called them crazy, but sometimes life could be crazy.

THE NIGHT BEFORE

It was a sunny evening and you were standing out on the balcony with a glass of wine in your hand, gazing across the Mediterranean whilst waiting for your three best friends to get ready. As a lifelong Formula One lover, a weekend trip to Monaco had been on the cards for a while so when your friends asked where you wanted to go to celebrate your special birthday it was at the top of the list. Turning the dream into reality was another thing altogether and you still couldn’t believe that the trip had materialised. A trip had finally made it out of the group chat.

Dinner was due to be lowkey as Saturday was going to be the big night out, with dinner plans at Elsa, a Michelin-star establishment, followed by a night on the tiles at Jimmyz, a club frequented by the world of Formula One. Although you couldn’t afford to come for a race weekend, this was truly a bucket list trip and you hoped to catch a glimpse of some nice cars, the iconic track and if you were lucky maybe even a driver or two… A wild Charles Leclerc sighting in Monaco was like spotting Mickey Mouse in Disneyland.

Friday night’s restaurant of choice was Song Qi, an upscale Chinese restaurant in Larvotto that had come highly recommended. You were looking forward to seeing what made Monaco so special and couldn’t wait to hit the town.

“How long is the walk?” A voice called out from your suite.

“About five/ten minutes.” You replied, sighing, as always the mom of the group.

“Medium heels it is then,” your friend Olivia replied.

“We can always get a car,” you suggested.

“No, let’s conserve the taxi budget for tomorrow night,” Olivia said, stepping out onto the balcony to join you, “Laura and Becca are almost ready.”

“Good idea,” you replied, “You look gorgeous by the way.”

Olivia beamed with the compliment, stepping back to twirl in her pink minidress and sparkling sandals, “I try my best, although I can’t compete with you.”

You blushed, not used to the compliments. You’d chosen a simple white dress with gold sandals for the evening’s dinner, perhaps a risky move in a restaurant serving noodles but you felt fabulous. It wasn’t long before Laura and Becca also emerged, both looking as beautiful as ever. The four of you had treated yourselves to two adjoining suites and opened up the connecting door to create a mega-suite.

“Oh la la, give us a twirl,” you said, looking your elegant friend up and down as she dutifully spun around.

“Beautiful!” Now it was Laura and Becca’s turn to blush. “Ditto! Shall we get going?”

“Sounds like a plan.” you agreed, the four of you making your way off of the balcony.

——

Song Qi turned out to be an excellent choice, with the table weighed down with baskets of dim sum and bowls of noodles, crispy beef and endless wontons. The restaurant was decadent but comfortable and as you sank back into your sumptuous green velvet chair you spotted a strangely familiar face at the table across from you. He was dark-haired, handsome with chiselled features and although he was sat down, tall, as he towered above the two men he was dining with.

It took you a moment to realise that it was none other than Toto Wolff, the affable Mercedes Formula One team principal. Although you thought it was only for a moment, you must have stared for a while as he briefly met your eyes and shot you a charming smile. Smiling back like a fool, your friends whipped their heads around to see who you were smiling at, fortunately, Toto not noticing as he had returned to his plate.

“Damn girl, he’s kinda hot, in that old businessman kind of way,” said Olivia, turning back around to face you.

“Well yes…” you stuttered, “He’s also one of the team principals in Formula One.”

“Huh?” Asked your three friends blankly, not followers of the sport.

“Kind of like the equivalent of a football manager,” you explained, “Except he owns some of the team as well.”

“Fancy, well he’s pretty. You should go and talk to him.” Said Laura, all formula one facts going straight over her head.

“Oh my god, no,” you said, “I’m sure he was just being polite.”

As if on cue, Toto looked up and locked eyes with you once again, his deep brown eyes crinkling. You gulped, returning his gaze with a smile once again.

Dinner continued, with the girls chatting away as every so often you met Toto’s eyes across the crowded restaurant. He looked to be in some kind of business meeting as the two men with him were dressed smartly and looked serious while conversing with them.

It wasn’t long before dinner had been cleared and a smiling waiter emerged with a chocolate cake laden down with a sparkler and numerous candles, Olivia, Becca and Laura looking at each other mischievously before breaking into a rousing rendition of the Happy Birthday song. You felt your cheeks reddening as you realised the entire restaurant, including Toto and his business associates had joined in the song. As you blew out the candles, you once again locked eyes with Toto who was grinning away while applauding.

“You guys are the worst,” you said, half joking as you shook your head at your friends. “But that’s why I love you.”

“Aw, well we had to do something,” said Laura, “It’s not every day you have a big birthday like this and although I still don’t understand why you love your car racing so much, I’m happy that we came here.”

You smiled at your friends, appreciative of them enabling your desire to walk around the Formula One track and visit the car museum despite the fact they really weren’t interested. Just as you were musing how ironic it was that you’d even seen Toto Wolff, their waiter reappeared with a tray of drinks.

“Oh, I don’t think we ordered those,” said Olivia politely.

“Yes Madame, in fact, the gentlemen over there sent them alongside their birthday wishes.” The waiter replied.

You were floored, Toto Wolff had sent you birthday wishes. An interesting turn of events.

“Well, then that’s very nice of them,” said Olivia, as the waiter set them down, nudging you before adding, “You should go and say thank you!”

“Oh my God, yes, go!” Said Becca, egging Olivia on.

Sighing, but also buoyed by your friends’ enthusiasm, you relented, “I’m going to go but only to say thank you.”

Your three friends squealing with excitement, you took an extra sip of your drink for courage before standing up and sauntering over to where Toto and his associates sat. His interest piqued immediately as he noticed you making your way across the restaurant.

“Good evening, sorry to interrupt but I just wanted to say thank you for the drinks, it was very kind of you,” you said, a little too quickly due to nerves.

“Well, it’s not every day you celebrate a milestone like that.” Replied Toto kindly, standing up to hold out his hand to shake yours, “I’m Toto by the way, and this is Jean and Sebastian,” he gestured at the older gentlemen he was dining with.

Struck by the almost comical height difference you introduced yourself and looked up at the tall Austrian in front of you as he gripped your hand very tightly, “Nice to meet you all.”

The other gentlemen smiled politely, wishing you a happy birthday before picking their conversation back up. Toto, however, remained stood up, his eyes raking your curves. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. It’s nice to meet you too.”

Now you really were blushing, “You’re far too kind.”

“Not at all,” he said, “I hope you do not think this forward but would you like to join me for dinner one evening?”

Once again, your eyes widened, how was this man asking you out? Pulling yourself together, you knew you had to politely decline, you were here with your friends after all, “I would love to but unfortunately I’m only here until Sunday so I’m not sure if I’ll have time.”

Toto looked disappointed but pressed further, “Well then, how about a drink later this evening?”

Trying your best to stay calm, you tried to play it cool, “I’m not sure, it’s a girl's trip and I don’t want to ditch my friends, I really would love to though. Maybe can I get your number and text you once I’ve figured out their plans?”

“Understood,” replied Toto, looking down, gazing into your eyes with an unreadable expression, “It would be my pleasure, give me your phone.”

With that, you handed your phone to the tall Austrian in front of you who deftly punched in his contact. “Thank you, I’ll check in with the girls and let you know. I’ll leave you to your dinner for now but I hope to see you later,” you said with a smile.

Toto turned to glance at his dining companions who were still deep in conversation, and dropped closer down to your ear, keeping his voice low, sending a shiver down your spine, “It’s okay, I don’t think they missed me. I hope to see you later too.”

Looking up at Toto with a smile, you replied “I’m sure they did. See you, Toto.” As you turned back towards your table you glanced back over your shoulder and saw Toto’s eyes were locked on you as he returned to his seat. He was undeniably hot and as much as you always abided by the golden rule, chicks before dicks, this was special circumstances.

Sitting back down with your friends, they immediately leaned in to get the lowdown.

“What did he say? He didn’t take his eyes off of you!” said Laura excitedly.

“He just wished me a happy birthday… and asked me out,” you said blushing.

“No way!” exclaimed your three friends in unison.

“You’re going to go right?” said Olivia, looking at you in concern.

“I’m not sure, I don’t want to ditch you all for a man but equally he’s hot as fuck and it would only be for an hour or so.”

“An hour or so?” said Becca, raising her eyebrows, “I doubt this, but you should go, make it a memorable birthday!”

You looked over once again at where Toto sat, he was a striking man, pushing all of his success to one side. “What the hell, I’ll message him now. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Your friends squealed with excitement in unison.

You grabbed her phone and nervously began typing your message to Toto.

It’s all good for tonight, we’re almost done eating so I’m free whenever you are.

You could see Toto excuse himself and take out his phone, shooting a grin from across the restaurant before looking down to type a response.

Sure enough, your phone buzzed.

Perfect, so are we. Shall I meet you outside in ten minutes?

You replied excitedly, still not believing you were texting Toto Wolff of all people. 

Sounds like a plan.

——

You were nervous but excited as you saw Toto and his associates pay their bill and head off, Toto shooting you a wink as he jostled his way out of the restaurant.

Settling their own bill, your group were close behind and as you exited the restaurant, sure enough, you saw Toto standing outside waiting, leaning casually up against a column.

Bidding your friends goodbye, you made your way towards your date for the evening. “Hi,” you said somewhat awkwardly, knowing that your friends were likely watching from where they were ordering a taxi to return them to the hotel.

“Hi,” he said, glancing down fondly, “How was your dinner?”

“So good!” you said, “How was yours?”

“It was okay, my dining companions weren’t as lovely as you but I think my evening is improving,” he said with a rakish grin.

You smiled, “You’re a charmer, Toto. Where were you thinking of heading?”

“I know a place a few streets behind, it’s not so fancy but they have an excellent selection of wine if you like it?”

Knowing that you were already a little tipsy, you were grateful that he’d suggested wine, “Sounds good to me, lead the way, Mr Wolff!”

Toto whipped his head around, “I never told you my surname.”

Feeling you’d made a huge error of judgement, you stuttered, Toto’s dark eyes intimidating you before you decided the best course of action was to fess up, “Well it took me a moment but I recognised you. Guilty as charged.”

Musing quietly, Toto’s expression softened, “So you know a little about me, tell me about yourself.”

As you made your way around the twisting streets towards the bar, you filled Toto in on your background, your blossoming career and your plans for the big birthday weekend. He was an engaged listener, asking you questions and interjecting with his own anecdotes. Certainly surprising for a man of his stature.

Soon enough you arrived at your destination, Toto taking the lead and speaking with the Maitre D’ who promptly led you to a secluded table towards the back of the bar.

Settling down on the chair opposite Toto, you were suddenly much more nervous. 

“You look nervous,” Toto said, his eyes softening.

“Well, this is not how I thought my evening was going to pan out. The ruse is up in that I recognised you so I may as well tell you that we came to Monaco because I love Formula One.” you blushed furiously as your words tangled into one.

“Relax, so you know about Formula One?” he said, reaching across the table, taking your hand in his and tracing small circles with his thumb on the back of your hand.

“Well, probably not as much as you.” you laughed, breaking the tension and gazing into his eyes.

“You’d be surprised,” said Toto shrugging with a smirk. “I just got lucky.”

——

As the evening went on, you discussed everything under the sun, the wine helping you feel less awkward and forget who you were talking to. Toto was funnier than you expected and you spent half the evening giggling at his stupid remarks. He’d regaled you with stories of his travel adventures, driving mishaps and various other anecdotes, whilst you’d filled him in with tales of your own travels and some embarrassing childhood moments. You’d even bonded over your love of all things with an engine. Time had flown by and you didn’t want the evening to end.

“Ahem.” Your conversation was suddenly interrupted by a waiter, “Monsieur, Madame, I am sorry to say that we are closing in ten minutes. Can I take one last order?”

Knowing that you were well beyond tipsy, you shook your head, looking at Toto to check if he was in agreement. Looking somewhat bleary-eyed himself he shook his head as well, “Just the bill please.”

Soon enough the cheque had been settled and you found yourself once again wandering the moonlit streets of Monaco with Toto, this time your hand firmly encased in his.

“Where do you need to go?” Toto asked kindly, “I can drop you back.”

“I’m staying at the Fairmont,” you replied.

“It’s not so far, are you happy to walk?” he asked, squeezing your hand.

“Sure, it’s just up there,” you replied gesturing at the bend in the road where the hotel was perched, “As long as you can get home okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” said Toto, a dark look in his eye. “Remind me, when do you leave again?”

“Sunday afternoon,” you said sadly, wishing you were staying for longer.

“Well, you’ll have to come back next year for the Grand Prix,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

“Maybe if I rob a bank!” you said with a chuckle, “One day.”

“I don’t like to boast, but I might know someone who can get you in without having to resort to organised crime,” he said, laughing with a deep rumble.

“Oh really?” you said, turning to face Toto in the inky moonlight, “Is he nice?”

“Very,” said Toto, dropping your hand and placing his hands on either side of your waist, swaying slightly in his merry state.

Laughing, you stretched up to look Toto in the eye, “I’ll have to meet this guy, he sounds great.”

At that your lips met, Toto bending down to plant a soft kiss on your lips, the height difference making it slightly a challenge but one that neither of you seemed bothered by. As the kiss deepened, Toto began to run his hands down towards your perfectly rounded ass, squeezing gently as he found your curves.

Breaking apart for air, you glanced around, luckily there was no one in the empty street but you didn’t want to risk being caught making out in the street with a famous face and it being splashed across the tacky tabloids.

“Do you fancy a nightcap at mine?” you asked, looking up at Toto through your fluffy long lashes. As a rule, you never normally brought men back on a girls' trip but you decided tonight was a special circumstance. 

Toto’s eyes lit up, “Well, I have heard the view is nice.”

You laughed, grabbing Toto’s hand once again and leading him towards the corner entrance to your hotel. As you crossed the lobby you had a sudden panic that Olivia was in your room, and as you made it into the elevator, sent a frantic text knowing your friends would still be awake, waiting for the post-date debrief.

Red alert, I’m bringing him back, please can you vacate?

Sure enough, the replies came back instantaneously.

Oh la la of course birthday girl! 

Get it girl! 

Knew it!!!!!

Smiling as Toto rested his hand on the small of your back in the elevator, you looked up at him before he once again swooped down to catch your lips with his.

The elevator dinged before things could get too heated but it didn’t stop Toto wrapping his arm tightly around your waist as the pair of you stumbled towards your room.

“Here we are,” you said, scrambling to find your keycard in your bag before popping open the door to unveil your impressive suite. Thankfully your friends must have tidied as the detritus from getting ready for the evening was nowhere to be seen.

“Nice,” said Toto before bending down once again to continue kissing you, turning you around to face him as you closed the door. Pressing you against the wall with his leg, he continued to deepen the kiss, his hands starting to explore more of your body.

“As soon as I saw you I knew I had to have you,” he said, his lips resting against your ear, his deep Austrian accent rumbling.

You gulped, you never would have thought it but his voice roused something deep within. Your lips stretching up and finding the crevice of his neck, you replied in a low voice, “Then have me.”

Toto needed no invitation, scooping you up into his arms, he carried you over to the bed, throwing you down before leaning over and continuing to kiss you, his strong arms either side, pinning you down.

Emboldened by his eagerness, you wrapped your legs around his thick torso, pushing yourself against him, not surprised to find a growing bulge. As he ground his hips into yours, he started to explore your curves with his large hands, ghosting your breasts and waist and reaching around to caress your ass once again.

Reaching up, you started to unbutton Toto’s shirt, exposing a surprisingly muscular frame. Impatient, he leaned up and divested himself of the shirt as well as the rest of his clothes, leaving him in nothing but boxers. You couldn’t help but smile at the view that greeted you as he once again lunged down to kiss you, this time, his hands making quick work of pulling your dress off, leaving you exposed in nothing but lingerie and heels.

“You are ridiculous,” he said, his eyes hungry with desire, gazing into your eyes and gently kissing your neck.

“I could say the same about you,” you replied breathily, your back arching in pleasure as Toto kissed his way along your neck and across your collarbone.

Melting into each other’s arms, you began to grind back against his now prominent hardness, feeling yourself getting more turned on by the second.

“Toto?” you asked, gasping for air, “Will you fuck me?”

Toto’s eyes lit up, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Smiling at each other, Toto reached down to unhook your bra, releasing your pert breasts, “Fuck,” he said, lifting his head to marvel at them, “Even better than I imagined.”

You blushed at his words, not used to such attention. Growing impatient you ghosted your hands down Toto’s abs, hooking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers.

“You’re an impatient little thing aren’t you?” he said, leaning back suddenly and hooking his arms underneath your legs, gripping your thighs and bringing you closer. “I want to taste you first.”

Gulping you leant back, allowing Toto to bring his mouth to where you needed it most. As his tongue lapped gently, he brought his hand along and began to stroke your clit, slowly but sensually.

It wasn’t long before you were writhing in pleasure, tugging Toto’s dark locks as he pumped a finger in and out, continuing to expertly lick.

“Toto, I want you in me,” you said, seeing stars as you were so close.

Pausing his ministrations, Toto was more than happy to oblige, kissing his way back up your torso as he replied, “I want to do everything with you.”

At that, you melted, the evening had turned into one that was beyond your wildest dreams. As Toto swiftly undressed you both, you gazed into his intense chocolate eyes as he slipped on a condom and began to line himself up, unsurprisingly intimidatingly big.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he pushed in, slowly but surely. Gasping, you shifted to adjust to his size. True to his word, he took it easy and entered tantalisingly slowly, an inch at a time.

“Fuck, Toto.” you said breathily, “You’re so big.”

Smiling, he pulled back out before pushing in once more, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

“Not at all, it feels good,” you said, feeling pleasantly stretched in places you’d never felt before.

“Good,” he said with a grin as he began to thrust in and out lazily, continuing to kiss you.

It wasn’t long before you were a tangled mess of arms and legs, both nearing completion. “Fuck, Toto, I am so close,” you said, your eyes rolling back in pleasure.

“Close isn’t good enough,” said Toto, smirking as he reached down and found your clit once again, his thumb circling gently as he continued to push in and out, speeding up.

“That feels so go…” you couldn’t even finish your sentence as Toto hit the sweet spot with expert precision. 

“Fu…” was all Toto managed as he thrust in and out a few more times, chasing his own high before collapsing on top of you, his body heavy.

“Ooff,” you said, crushed by the weight of the muscular man on top of you.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, flashing a shy grin as he rolled off to lie beside you.

“Well… that was not how I expected my birthday to turn out,” you said, feeling like you were in a dream.

Toto laughed, stretching a strong arm across your stomach to pull you in for a cuddle. “There’s still a few hours of your birthday left.”

Your eyes widened once more. This was certainly a birthday to remember.

#toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #toto wolff x y/n #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you

[regressionschool]

Unfair

Based on an idea from @diapereddoe

You’re sitting in the playpen, surrounded by your toys, when you hear the doorbell ring. Your ears perk up, and your heart sinks a little. You know who it is. It’s her. The woman who Daddy always has grown-up fun with. You don’t like her; she always teases you and makes you feel even more little.

Daddy opens the door, and you hear her voice, sweet and playful, but it grates on your nerves. This time, there’s another voice too, a man’s voice. You peek over the edge of your playpen and see him. He’s around your age, but he’s dressed like a toddler, just like you.

“Hello, little one,” she says, her voice dripping with condescension. “I brought a friend for you to play with.”

Daddy leads them into the living room, and you shrink back, clutching your favorite stuffed animal. The man smiles at you, a mix of nervousness and excitement in his eyes. He’s wearing pull-ups, you notice, unlike your thick, soggy diaper.

“This is Tommy,” Daddy says, ruffling the man’s hair. “Be nice and play together while we go upstairs, okay?”

You nod, not that you have much choice. Daddy and the woman head upstairs, leaving you and Tommy alone in the playpen.

Tommy crawls over to you, his eyes wide with curiosity. “Hi, I’m Tommy,” he says, a shy smile on his face. “What’s your name?”

You mumble your name, not meeting his gaze. He seems nice enough, but you can’t help feeling a bit jealous. Why does he get to wear pull-ups while you’re stuck in a wet diaper?

Tommy starts playing with the blocks, stacking them up and knocking them down. You watch him for a while before joining in.

Tommy seems to have fun with the blocks, and his laughter is infectious. Despite your initial reluctance, you find yourself smiling a bit. Maybe having a new playmate isn’t so bad after all. You both build a tower together, and when it topples over, you giggle uncontrollably.

As you’re engrossed in your play, you suddenly feel Tommy’s hand on your back. He’s pulling back the waistband of your diaper. You turn your head in confusion, but before you can say anything, you feel warmth spreading through your diaper. Tommy is peeing right into it.

You gasp in shock and disbelief. “Tommy! What are you doing?” you exclaim, your face turning red with embarrassment and anger.

Tommy finishes, letting go of your diaper and giving you an innocent look. “I’m sorry,” he says, a bit sheepishly. “My Mommy is too busy with your Daddy to take me to the potty. She told me to just go in my pull-up, but I didn’t want to get it wet.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. Your diaper, already soggy, is now even heavier and more uncomfortable. You glance upstairs, knowing that Daddy and Tommy’s mommy are too preoccupied to care about what just happened.

Tommy then looks at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know," he begins, lowering his voice as if sharing a big secret, "my mommy unlocked my peepee today. She says I can have cummies as long as I do it in the playpen."

You blink at him in disbelief. "What? Really?" You can't help the pang of jealousy that surges through you. Daddy never lets you have cummies, no matter how much you beg or plead. He always says it's because you're too little and still in your squishy Pampers, but Tommy is a big boy, still in pull-ups. You can’t help but feel extra babyish, realizing you are jealous of someone in pull-ups.

Tommy moves closer, his hand pressing against your soggy diaper. You try to pull away, but he’s already humping against your wet padding, his movements quick and desperate. In what seems like just a few seconds, Tommy lets out a soft moan and shudders, a look of satisfaction on his face as he cums into his pull-ups.

A few moments later, you hear footsteps coming down the stairs. You glance up, your cheeks flushed with humiliation. Daddy and Tommy's mommy appear in the doorway, their faces flushed and satisfied. They don’t notice your discomfort right away, too engrossed in each other.

Tommy's mommy claps her hands, a wide smile on her face. “Well, it looks like you two had a fun time playing together! Didn’t you, Tommy?”

Tommy nods, looking proud of himself. “Yes, Mommy! We played with the blocks, and it was super fun!”

Daddy looks down at you, his eyes softening with affection. “And how about you, little one? Did you have fun with your new friend?”

You try to muster a smile, but the heaviness of your soggy diaper and the shame of what just happened weigh you down. “Yes, Daddy,” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper.

Tommy's mommy walks over and ruffles Tommy’s hair. “Good boy, Tommy. You didn’t have any accidents, did you?”

Tommy shakes his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “No, Mommy. I didn’t wet my pull-up at all!”

You feel your heart sink even further. Everyone seems so happy, and you’re left feeling more little and humiliated than ever. Daddy bends down and checks your diaper, his brow furrowing when he feels how soaked it is.

“Oh, my poor baby,” he coos, lifting you out of the playpen and carrying you over to the changing table. “Looks like someone needs a change.”

As Daddy changes your diaper, you can’t help but glance over at Tommy, who’s now playing with his mommy. You feel a pang of jealousy and frustration. Everyone else got to have cummies, but you’re still stuck in your soggy Pampers, treated like the littlest of littles.

Daddy finishes changing you and lifts you up, giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead. “There you go, all fresh and clean. Now, why don’t you go play with Tommy some more?”

You nod, feeling a bit better but still longing for the grown-up pleasures that everyone else seems to enjoy. You crawl back into the playpen, trying to push away the feelings of jealousy and focus on the only distraction available to you, the toys right in front of you.

#ab/dl diaper #diaper stories #ab/dl stories #ab/dl girl #wetting diaper #diaper bulge

[where-the-water-flows]

hey no wait. hang on, wait. wenjing is like, explicitly the secret sword, right, the one basically no one knew about, it's part of the reason the court is like 'mmk seems legit' when fang doubing is like ~I am totally for real his disciple~ because he knows about the sword at all

but li xiangyi/lianhua is clearly like. practiced at using the sword, which does not move like basically...any other weapon. that man has spent a fuck lot of time training to and straight up developing how to use a sword that is basically the most unswordlike sword to ever sword. that sword is like a slap bracelet with bladed edges that can also cut through....anything? nearly anything?? it does not move or react like your standard mostly rigid bar of folded metal sword, is the gist here.

which brings me to two, semi-related, points:

when saintess rocks up to steal di feisheng from the zombie cave and also is like 'I'm going to kill you uh actually lol nope fuck that I'm outtie peace bitches', is that literally the first time she's even got a hint that li xiangyi/lianhua has a sword that is basically nigh impossible to block because it can straight up bend around obstacles? (obstacles such as, say, anyone else's sword) if yes, no fucking wonder she's like mmmm I see no thank you I need to go wash my di feisheng's hair, so busy, catch you later because like. how the fuck do you even deal with that. a guy who should have been horribly and messily dead literally a decade ago rocks up and is like 'I lived bitch! also surprise, I have a sword made of glowing Go-Fuck-Yourself metal', like, I too would fucking split! you would only be able to find me by the cartoon dust cloud left in my wake. RIP to everyone else in the jianghu but saintess is making the objectively correct choice here, which is wild because, like. saintess.

how many people's last fucking moment was seeing throat cutter, probably glowing and covered in their blood? because like. Li xiangyi clearly used it! enough to be good at using it. enough to know that it glows blue when there's blood on it, even if he apparently was just like sometimes swords just glow for reasons I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. so. if no one outside of sigu sect high command knows that wenjing exists*, that means everyone else who ever saw that sword -- which there has to have been people, given that li xiangyi was out there uhhh using it -- those people who saw it presumably also uh. died. in a pretty confirmed kinda way. likely via....that sword. throat cutter** indeed

*and not even all of the inner sigu sect command folks knew about li xiangyi having it! they're pretty explicit that five people total know about the sword, which is the four court heads, and then presumably either qiao wanmian or xiao zijin, but not both of them (which, lmao, what the hell were sigu sect internal politics for real), and even that's if we assume shan gudao is not being included in the count because he's "dead"

**yes I know it's a reference to a friendship/relationship you'd cut your throat for per @murderedbyhomework's recent great meta, but also, like. it's still a cut throat, y'know? words can have multiple meanings, and also this is mostly a pun on the name. the rest of the post stands as is tho.

#mysterious lotus casebook #li xiangyi #look I know it's a staple of the genre and etc #but also. li xiangyi is a straight up ruthless little fucker and I just feel like sometimes that gets a little glossed over #man has a secret second sword. absolutely insane. #(also sidebar I feel like there's somehting about how di feisheng's dao is Notably Fucking Weird #and li xiangyi's sword is. Also Notably Fucking Weird. #but everyone knows that di feisheng's sword is Fucking Weird #or at least. you do if you're looking. he's not hiding that. #he's built his whole fighting style around how Fucking Weird his sword is #and only a few people know that li xiangyi also has a Weird Sword and that sword is otherwise explicitly secret #like idk. the parallels or whatever.) #(also haha di feisheng literally the only person in the world for like. a decade. #who's faced wenjing and lived to talk about it afterwards)