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#have a substitute circle :)
scarlettroubles · 2 years
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Quick monster moth Jon concepts for fun
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asoiastarks · 8 months
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guys some of my teachers started a country band it’s so funny. their music is alright ig. but one of my other teachers does professional photography on the side (as well as recently 18yo former students, allegedly, but that’s another story) and he took pics of them playing and it’s so funny to see him genuinely so invested in playing. also it’s funny to document his transition from emo to country boy (the same style as his work husband) since his wife cheated on him.
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autistic-shaiapouf · 1 month
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The secret 10th circle of hell Dante was unaware of at the time is retail
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The new banner dropped and honestly I just wanted the new diluc skin and threw a few wishes out on the new banner and heizou cane sprinting at me and punched me in the gut and anyways hes too agressive to be main team so I’m building him for spiral abyss
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scoobydoodean · 11 months
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I want candy soooo bad rn
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coryosbaby · 3 months
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dreaming of a world where my boyfriend sejanus has to go out of town for something for a while so he lets me fuck his best friend coryo whenever i want as long as i call him and let him listen
Content warning . Threesome (?), use of sex toys, anal, praise & degradation, ‘daddy’ used like twice— 18++
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“Do you promise you won’t be long?”
It’s the same exact thing you say everytime to him. Sejanus, your boyfriend, the forever busy owner of the Plinth fortune, is constantly away. Your feet shuffle nervously against the hardwood floor of your shared apartment, still a shy, timid thing despite knowing that Sej will always be gentle with you. He smiles, his big hands stuffing ties and suits into his already overfilled suitcase.
“I promise, sweet girl.”
Your lips form into a pout. He says that everytime, but he usually takes a week, if not longer. Noticing your distaste, Sejanus sets his things down and wraps his strong arms around your middle. You rest your body against his, burying your face into his shoulder and inhaling. He smells like laundry detergent and soap, so unlike the other privileged men of the capital. Instead of expensive cologne or parfume, Sejanus lets himself smell as is. You’ve always loved that about him— it gives you a sense of comfort to know that he hasn’t allowed the Capital to change him.
“Hey,” he soothes, his hands coming up to cup your face. He kisses you softly on the nose. “It’ll be okay, angel. I’ll be back in four days, tops.”
You don’t say anything, and Sejanus continues with a teasing lilt.
“Coryo can take care of you.”
The mention of the familiar blonde makes heat creep up your neck.
Coriolanus— Coryo — is a pretty boy with icy blue eyes. He’s been Sej’s friend for years, and one of the only people that the brunette trusts. Perhaps that’s why the three of you have come up with this special arrangement.
You sigh, letting Sejanus rub comforting circles into your back. He kisses you, gentle with his tongue teasingly nipping at your bottom lip.
“Make sure to call me tonight, okay?”
And that’s how it leads to you being spread out, laying in between Coriolanus Snow’s legs. Your hands are curling into his platinum blonde locks as he thrusts a dildo in and out of your tiny pussy— all while he’s letting out a teasing chuckle, a cellular device placed right up against your mouth so Sejanus can hear your delicious moans.
You wish you could see Sej, feel his buzzed hair and his soft, muscular body. You want so desperately to drool on the heavy cock in between his legs, to let him use your mouth and your cunt. But he has a legacy to look up to, a future family to feed, jewels and dresses to buy his girl. And although you miss like crazy — Coryo isn’t Sejanus, after all — he still makes a fantastic substitute. So why not fulfill your needs if your boyfriend is okay with it? Better yet, suggested it?
Coryo had pressed the speaker button on the call, and now you can feel the wetness dripping down your thighs as Sejanus coos to you on the other line.
“Oh, baby,” he says, when he hears your tiny whimpers as Coryo pushes the dildo in and out of you. “Are you being a good girl?”
You feel Coryo’s lips brush over your neck. He smiles against you, watching the way your cum coats the toy in creamy strings.
“Bein’ so good, Sej,” You hiccup, bucking your hips. “Miss you so much, wanna feel you...”
You can hear wet noises sounding from the other line, a small groan emitting from the microphone.
“I miss you too, sweet girl. Miss you so so much,” he says. “What’s he got you doin’ huh? Is he stretching all those little holes good?”
Looking down, you watch as the dildo penetrates you, along with the jeweled butt plug inside your tight little ass. The dildo is thick, extremely girthy and long. God, it’s long. It’s a wonder it hasn’t bruised your cervix yet with the way Coryo is rapidly pounding it into you.
“He’s..” you stutter, watching as Coryo’s arm grips you tighter and he bites down onto you, hard. “He’s f-fucking me. With the dildo, th-the one that looks like you, sej.. feels so good.”
“Yeah?” He breathes out on the other end, and you can imagine the way he looks now: spread out on a hotel room bed, tie undone and his pants haphazardly unbuttoned. His hand gripping his thick member, moving up and down, up and down…
You’re snapped out of your fantasies when you feel Coryo’s bulge pressing against your lower back. Even though you love Sejanus, your mouth aches for the other man to slip his cock past your lower lips and pound you deep into the mattress with no remorse, no sympathy. It’s one of the things you like about this arrangement— whereas Sejanus is soft, worships your body with every kiss and thrust (minus the punishments you get one or twice a month week), Coriolanus feels no romantic attraction. It’s primal, hot, and filthy. Two different halves, complete opposites. But both of them fulfill your desires in each of their own ways.
Coryo’s voice rings out, low and throaty, when Sejanus asks him if he had prepped you first.
“‘Course I did, Sej,” he groans, annoyed. “Stop whining, she’s fine.”
“Don’t care,” you hear Sejanus grumble. “If I find out you didn’t prep her, Coryo, you’re in deep shit.”
“I did,” Coryo argues, pausing his movements on your aching cunt. You grind against it, trying to get more of that delicious grazing against your special spot. “Tell him, baby. Didn’t I prep you?”
You nod, and for your reward Coryo resumes touching you. But this time, he moves his fingers down to play with the jewel sitting prettily between your cheeks.
“He did, Sej..” you start, trying not to whimper at the feeling of the plug being twisted around inside of you. “He used his fingers, his tongue, got me nice and wet…”
Sejanus shakily lets out a reply, and you let out a small yelp when Coryo teasingly pulls half of the anal plug out of your entrance.
“Yeah?” Sejanus says. “Were they as good as mine?”
“No!” You keen out, and you know it’s the truth and you know it’s exactly what Sejanus wants to hear. Not only is this a way to help you, but it’s also a way for Sejanus to show off and prove his own talents. He doesn’t mean to do it, per se, but— when it comes to you, Sej can get possessive and he can get egotistical about the way he fucks. And maybe, just a little bit, it’s because he strives for his best friend’s approval. His intelligent, highly influential best friend, the Coriolanus Snow.
But that doesn’t matter right now, not really. Because Coryo is slipping out the plastic cock sitting hot inside you and he’s turning you onto your side.
You comply easily, lifting up your leg like a bitch in heat. His tip probes at your hole, warm and dripping. He places the phone right next to your face, Sejanus’ voice purring hotly in your ear.
“Dick’s so hard listening t’you, honey,” he groans throatily. “Can’t wait to get home and pound all those pretty holes.”
A small mewl leaves you, and Coryo’s tip pops into you. It’s thick, not as thick as Sej’s, but it still makes your eyes roll back and your hips buck back into him.
“Want it so bad,” you breathe, and when Coryo begins to move inside you your hand reaches back to grasp his thigh. “Fuck, Coryo, please. Need more..”
“Beg for it, darling,” Coryo says, and you want to scream. “Come on, don’t be a brat. Do I need to spank you?”
Your gut twists at the thought of Coryo’s punishments.
“No,” you whimper out, stilling. “No, Cor, ‘m sorry.”
“Be nice,” you hear Sejanus warn from the other line. “She’s delicate.”
“No she isn’t,” Coryo quips, his cock moving roughly in your walls. “She likes it. She likes getting hurt. That’s something you need to come to terms with, Sej.”
You can hear an annoyed sigh sound from the other line. Sejanus ignores his comments.
“You fuckin’ her now?” He asks. Coryo’s cockhead slips out of your gaping hole and back in again at a rapid pace. The way Sejanus says it so carelessly, as if you aren’t even there, makes your eyes roll back.
“Yes,” Coryo replies, his nails digging crescent moons into your hips. “Shit, she’s tight. How is she still so fucking tight?”
“Mmm. She’s always like that. Like a rubber band.”
“It’s cute,” coryo grunts. “She still gets split open no matter how hard you stretch her out.”
You become pliant under Coryo’s thrusts, brain fucked out and all you can think is SejanusSejanusSejanus. The plop plop plop sound of Coryo’s balls slapping against you makes you let out the most unholy sounds.
“You with me, baby?” Sejanus says, his tone soft. The way he knows you so well makes your tummy flutter with butterflies.
“Mmmh..” you whine out, disagreeing. Because it’s true. He isn’t here, and you need him now more than ever.
“I know,” Sej moans out, his voice laced with arousal and something else entirely melancholy. “I know, honey. Gonna be home real soon, okay? Gonna fuck you just like you deserve.”
Coryo’s hands go up to push you onto your stomach. He grabs your wrists, pins them behind your back, lifts up your ass with his big hands. You mewl, tears streaming down your cheeks, letting him use your hole as Sejanus lets out throaty groans through the microphone. Coryo’s hand comes down harshly on your ass cheek when you squirm against his grip.
“Stop fucking moving,” he rasps, his fingers gripping your cheeks harshly. “Or I’ll use the fucking paddle.”
Sejanus, too far gone with how aroused he is, lets out a loud, guttural moan through the phone.
“Fuck…”
Tears stream down your face, and you mutter out a soft, “yes sir”. Your cunt aches and drools around Coryo’s thick length, pussy lips spread tight around him. It’s comforting, but not comforting enough. You need Sejanus.
“Sej..” you whine out, and Coryo’s fingers move down to rub your clit harshly. You let out a desperate mewl.
“Right here, sweetheart,” Sejanus whimpers out. “Daddy’s right here.”
You can’t help but seize up at the title you gifted him a long while back that you only use on special occasions such as this. Coryo’s harsh rubs on your clit are making you tread closer and closer to your high.
“It’s so good,” you cry, fucking your hips back onto Coryo. Sejanus lets out a breathy laugh from the other line.
“Yeah? Is his cock filling that tight pussy up? Makin’ you feel good, baby?”
“Yes..” you whine out. “So good. Feels so good.”
Sejanus grunts.
“Gonna cum, baby,” he replies, and you can hear the wet sounds of his cock getting louder. “Gonna cum all over that sweet fucking pussy when I get back.”
“Please, daddy, need you to cum! Pleasepleaseplease…”
With a moan of your names spilling out of his lips, sweet, high, and orgasmic, Sejanus lets go. You hear him let out those angelic sounds signaling his release. Thinking of it— his big, girthy length dripping spend and his fucked out face— makes your orgasm fall over you in powerful waves. Coryo chuckles, watching as you fall apart underneath him, squeezing his cock like a vice.
“Mmm,” coryo hums, stilling. You let him pull out of you when you come down from your high, and he lets out a shaky breath when he sees your cunt. His fingers twist around the anal plug, gently pulling it out. Lube coats your rim, and when Coryo sees your gaping asshole he lets out an intense moan.
“Cmon,” he directs, pulling your limp body towards him. “Hold it open for me, baby, be a good girl.”
You obey, arms weakly moving around to spread your cheeks for him. His tip prods at you, teasing around you. When he sinks in, you let out a squeal.
“I know,” he coos, almost mockingly. “I know, pretty girl, look at that. Tight little ass is sucking me in.”
“So much..” you whimper, your face hot.
“I know, sweetheart. Just a little bit more.”
Coryo moves in and out of your ass at a rough, harsh pace. He would love to cum in your pussy— really, he would. But Sejanus only allows him to cum inside your ass— says that your cunt is only for him.
Not that Coryo is complaining, of course.
Sweat drips down his temple as he fucks into you like a madman. Your fingers grip the sheets, your little legs shaking. Sejanus coos out little praises to keep you grounded, and for a second you can pretend he’s here. You clench around Coryo at a particularly dirty sentence, and he grunts, his hips beginning to stutter.
“Gonna fill up this tight ass. That what you want? You like being a slut for your boyfriend’s best friend, huh?”
You let out a mewl, keening against Coryo when his cock spurts warm, wet ropes inside you. He presses flush against you, lets you milk him for everything he has, and when he slows he rests against your back.
“Done?” Sej asks from the other line. Coryo replies, a gruff “yeah” leaving his lips. When he pulls out of you, you curl up on your side. You’re exhausted.
You watch as Coryo slips on his pants and his belt, then his shirt. He brushes back his blonde curls as he looks at himself in your mirror. And sweetly, he places a kiss to your forehead.
“Thank you, baby.” He murmurs to you. “Do you want me to run you a bath before I go?”
Coryo is quite gentle with you. Not only because Sejanus would kill him if not, but also because he genuinely cares for your well being. You shake your head, limbs feeling like desert sand. You want to talk to Sej, and then you want to sleep.
“Okay,” Coryo replies. “I’ll see you… in two days, maybe? Is that okay?”
You show off a small smile.
“I’d love that.”
When Coryo leaves, the room smells of sex and perfume. You let Sejanus know Coryo’s gone, then you both talk about his trip— what he’s seen, who he’s doing business with, the cute pair of silky pajamas he got you. And that night, when you sleep, it’s less lonely.
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@etfrin @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry
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incorrectbatfam · 4 months
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I know we already have retail Steph, but could we also have substitute teacher Jason? (how did he get this job? he's a bat), the reason? he really enjoys the idea and the bonus of annoying his younger siblings and keeps the eyes on them
[art class] 
Jason: What'cha sculpting?
Damian: Your updated tombstone.
———————
[English class] 
Jason: Jon, can I talk to you for a sec?
Jon: Is it about my book report?
Jason: Yes. You were supposed to write a report on The Outsiders, but instead, you wrote about the menu at Outback Steakhouse. However, since it's really well-written, I'm giving you a B. 
———————
[math class] 
Colin: *raises his hand*
Jason: Yes?
Colin: Can I go to the bathroom?
Jason: What do I look like, your handler? Just go. 
Colin: *leaves with his backpack*
Colin: *walks out the school to patrol while Jason watches from the window*
———————
[health class] 
Jason: Can anyone tell me the most important food group?
Billy: Your mom.
———————
[social studies class]
Jason: Who can tell me Nanda Parbat's biggest export?
Suren: Assassins. 
Jason: Other than that.
Suren: Zombie assassins. 
———————
[science class]
Jason: Today we're going to learn about the circle of life.
Maya: You would know a lot about that, wouldn't you?
———————
[music class]
Jason: Girls' side, can I hear that first verse from you again?
The girls: *singing*
Maps: *inhuman screeching*
———————
[gym class]
Jason: Where are your gym clothes?
Kathy: At home.
Jason: M'kay, go get some extras from the lost and found.
Kathy: No thanks, black's not my color.
———————
[recess]
Jason, on the phone: I think my first day's going pretty well—
Jason: *gets hit by mud*
Jason: ...I'm gonna have to call you back. 
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rizsu · 2 months
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the aftermath of being turned into an ex jujutsu kaisen — gojo satoru.
gojo's a man of commitment. if rounding up a ‘band’ to serenade you into taking him back is what'll do the trick, then he'll organize it.
+ extra. this is meant to be unserious dont attack me for mischaracterization n shi 😞
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“we're done.”
“we are not!”
in the end, he got kicked out. due to the shame he felt by being kicked out of a house he once lived in, satoru actually leaves. don't party too soon though, he's going to come back within five hours.
the plan he had in mind was simple: go to the department store, buy some roses, a poster, led lights, a table, some chocolates, and hire a band. for this the budget will be endless.
you thought you got rid of satoru but little did you know that he still has his share of keys. with that trick up his sleeve, he unlocks the gate, sneaking in everyone and the props.
satoru wasn't able to hire a band, but he was able to get a substitute. you see, todo, inumaki, and yuuji have hidden talents. they can all play instruments and one can sing! he always knew there was a reason why he's proud of his students.
quietly, the four men set the stage that's actually your front yard. in the center holds the white table with a black satin cloth delicately placed on it. the three bouquets of roses sit beautifully on the table. some petals were picked out and carefully spotted as well. on the table's center held the chocolate and wine — your favourite wine, to be exact. the finishing touch is the led lights. they're circling the ground, illuminating it with a soft yellow glow.
at the right and left sides of the table are inumaki and yuuji. inumaki's holding a wooden guitar while yuuji holds the hand drum. todo's position is in front of the table but a little off-center. he's holding the microphone, ready to pour his heart out on the song.
the star, satoru, is the one in the center. one hand hides behind his back. it's holding another rose bouquet with hundred-dollar bills wrapped with the roses. his free hand holds his phone. as soon as the clock strikes 7:00PM, he's going to call you. everything should play out perfectly.
anxiously watching his wristwatch switch from 6:59 to 7:00, he immediately calls you. one, two, three, six rings later you answered.
“you. i forgot to block you.”
“excuse me?” satoru scoffs, “whatever, i'm not calling for that.”
“chop chop then. i don't have all night.”
“can you come outside?”
“no. i will be calling the police.”
“OH C'MON,” he whines, getting desperate. “please? after this i'll leave you alone. promise.”
“...”
yuuji painfully watches. he feels incredibly sorry for his teacher. he doesn't deserve this!
“i don't think this is going good,” yuuji whispers to the boys, moving his head side-to-side.
todo raises his fist, gesturing to the boys to have some faith. “let's put our hopes high.”
they watch satoru closely. his hand that held the phone dramatically dropped to his side. slowly, he turns his head to face the boys behind him. his face breaks their hearts. he's pouting with eyes nearing tears — a pain only males like them can understand!
before satoru can say something, the front door clicks open. as it swings open aggressively, you made yourself tonight's main star unwillingly. you were not dressed for whatever this occasion is. your front yard has been ruined, your ex is there, three of his students you've met a few times, and while they're in suits, you're in a fancy robe with fluffy indoor slippers.
your eyebrows crease together, just when did they do all of this?! maybe it's time to install cameras.
“satoru, what the fuck did you do to my—”
“shh, tonight it's just you and him,” todo cuts you off, switching the mic on and beginning his performance. inumaki tunes the guitar and starts stringing random strings in hopes that they sound good. yuuji follows by tapping a simple “dun-da-da-dun-dun” beat on the drums.
your mouth's now opened. baffled by the sight, you stood there motionless.
“i have died every day waiting for you~”
as todo sings, satoru walks up to you, cheekily smiling at your shocked expression.
you back away from him, eyebrows still furrowed at whatever's going on.
“darling, don't be afraid~”
at this lyric, satoru takes the opportunity to shove his phone back into his pocket and grab your wrist. although you attempted to wriggle free, you are no match for his strength. gently, he pulls you into the yard.
both your eyes lock on each other. you search his eyes for emotions, he searches yours for any signs of longing. it's not there, he thinks. he feels a pinch in his heart, but it won't stop him. sending you a wink, he pulls you closer to the table.
“i have loved you for a thousand years (ooh)~”
“seriously, what's all this bullshit?!” you whisper-yelled at him, using your other hand to point at the table.
satoru simply shrugs.
“i'll love you for a thou-sand more (ooh, yeah)~”
todo ends his singing, clapping along with the other two to end the performance. it was the most touching thing he's ever done besides gifting yuuji and his idol a trio matching keychains set.
satoru coughs three times in attempts to hide his laugh. this has probably been the most unserious yet serious he's ever been, but his perfomance doesn't end there. he still has something else to whip out.
“baby—”
“that's not my name,” you cut him off.
“anyway. as i was saying,” he stops, revealing the rose bouquet with multiple hundred-dollar bills. “all of these are yours.”
your eyes bulge, but you quickly regain yourself.
“i'm not going to be won over with some roses and money.”
“there's wine and chocolates too,” yuuji says, immediately shutting up after you shot him a look.
inumaki stands awkwardly. he feels immense second-hand embarrassment. to counter such feelings, he starts playing the guitar again.
satoru cups the side of your face with his hand. his thumb caresses your cheek as he locks his eyes on yours again.
“i was serious about not breaking up, y'know,” he softly speaks, “i know i'm pushing it and all that stuff but i don't think i can leave you.”
it's once again your turn to be speechless. at this point, you're sure that there's no way all of this is happening in one night.
since you won't take hold of the bouquet, satoru places it in your hand. to solidify it even more, he lifts your other hand to place a kiss on it.
“what level of romance is this?” again, yuuji speaks. this time, it's satoru who gestures him to quiet down.
inumaki's still playing the out-of-tune guitar, enjoying the way the wind gently blows. it's truly a beautiful night. under the full moon's light, you and satoru glow together.
todo gears up for another round of singing. he immediately does a dragged-out “ooh~” adlib. this, however, wasn't going to last as long as his previous one did.
“NO — no more, please. you have a wonderful voice but i've heard enough. please.” you turned around to todo, begging him to mute the mic and possibly himself.
“and you,” you turn back to face satoru, “clean this up, get the boys home safely, and then come back.”
after that, you walked back to inside your house with the bouquet, making it satoru's turn to be left speechless. he still didn't win you over with some roses and money (wine and chocolates too) but his stupid commitment to keeping the relationship is what did.
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randomoutsiders · 1 month
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asking hotch to do push ups and say your name in between (ifykyk)
a designated day off is a rare occurence - a date circled in red ink and bedazzled by giddy stars on the calendar that hangs by off the side of the refrigerator is a day to be celebrated. but it hasn't been, yet, as you tuck your feet further underneath your bottom, pallid features still waking up at this early hour as you cradle a cooling mug of coffee between chilled palms.
the waffle mix box still rests, unopened, on the kitchen counter, an adjacent bowl too close to the edge. aaron sludges into the living room, footsteps heavy and dark fringe awry from its typical professional position. "g'morning, sweetheart," his voice is still sodden with fatigue, vocal cords grating against one another in that deep baritone when he deeps in to smooth his lips over your cheekbone. "i know i've got the day off, but i still have to train for this triathlon thing," he preens when he runs his hands over his face. "fuck."
your toes curl in their warm socks underneath your bum, and you run a tongue over your lips. "just a quick workout couldn't hurt," you offer, motioning mindlessly to the coffee table. "could move this thing out of the way and bring up your weights. wouldn't mind breakfast 'n a show."
hotch's eyes, still foggy with sleep, narrow in exaggerated accusation, hands settling sassily on his hips. "you'd like that, wouldn't you? and you'd have to get started on breakfast first, honey, don't think you can call coffee a meal."
his jab at your frequent java substitution for a proper breakfast earns a kick at his shin when you untangle your leg out from under you. "okay, then get going then, mr. muscle man. let's see if you can own up to your end of the deal."
he retaliates with an eye roll, feigned perturbance rolling off his shoulders in heaping waves when he drops, albeit slowly, to the ground. "alright, alright."
"say my name when you do them." your words are nearly muffled by the next mouthful of hot coffee, but aaron catches them.
"yeah?" he grunts when he sinks into a pushup, elbows cracking with the sudden strain at this hour. "why's that?"
you shift again. "just do it."
aaron obliges, and you make no effort to hold up your end of the agreement, licking over your lips as your name slips from his own. the wimpery wisp of each grunt, each huff from tired lungs, and arousal is amalgamating in your navel, oozing and churning in its fiery path. "oh jesus," he realizes, head falling as soreness bleeds into his biceps. "i can't believe i fell for that."
"keep going," you breathe, unable to cloak the frog in your throat. your muscles seize up when he does it one last time, chest tightening when you go to place your mug back on the nearby table.
when your fingers fly to the belt of your robe, aaron's already jumping up from the floor, already forgetting the pain that bites at his muscles. "alright, on your belly," he grunts, hand shoving down his sweats.
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messylustt · 9 months
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a fic wherein miguel is webbin his way across the city when he stumbles across the reader flickin the bean????? and is paralyzed by the sight and smell??? and self-indulges???? if you’re picking up what im putting down??
anyways I love your fics, they literally bring me to tears every time, no exaggeration. <3
sweet self indulgence — miguel o’hara. mhmmmm. butterflies fr.
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at first he thought the city noise and smell was betraying him. but no. he picked up the faintest whimpers and mutters, along with a scent he seemed to be able to taste. sweet. so sweet. he can’t help but veer closer to the high window, the dark sky concealing his large frame. maybe he should have noticed the small hitches of your breath, and realise how the tempo was just like how you always sounded when you were injured, or tired.
his low gaze caught your figure, laid out on your bed, the sheets ruffled, and your hand low, low down your body. now miguel knew he should leave, forget that he was ever here in the first place, but then he easily catches another moan fall from your pretty lips, your back slightly arching off the bed. his red eyes were glued to the way your thighs clenched around your hand, he couldn’t see you entirely, and it was terrible how bad he wanted to.
you were in a lose shirt, edged up to just under your breasts. and that’s when your legs began to widen, your eyes screwed shut as your breathing chose it’s own mismatched beat. miguel’s eyelids flutter as his gaze darkens at the view you’re now unintentionally showing him. he can see your hand, your fingers that are rubbing your swollen clit in circles. he gulps down saliva at the state your poor abused pussy is in. a mess.
an utter mess of your arousal and clearly some of your spit. you’re desperately trying to reach a high you’ve been chasing, as more mumbles of soft words leave your lips. miguel listens harder catching the words “please…oh god…please, i need….mm.” miguel’s breathing is now matching yours at your cute pleas. he’s now aching in his suit, imagining how sweet you’d actually taste. you smelt good, sounded good. what were you thinking about? miguel can’t help but lean closer to the cracked open window, mesmerised by your hands movements as he tilts his head. he just wanted to…
your legs are slightly shaking as you keep them bent. he could help with that, let them rest them over his shoulders. and the way your free fist was clenching around your sheets…his hair could substitute. you looked almost in pain with how your brows knitted together. you so badly wanted to cum and miguel knew that your fingers wouldn’t be enough. because as you slipped two in, he knew you weren’t reaching the spot you wanted to.
the sound of your clenching hole was making him almost dizzy, his tongue running along his fang, to cut—to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “mm…” you sounded do pitiful, as you tried to finger yourself quicker. you just weren’t quick enough. miguel’s claws flexed in an itch to help. just help you out. you couldn’t be mad at that, could you? i mean look at you. such a desperate little thing that only wanted to feel good. “such a pretty little thing…” he mutters only for his own ears, as his claw drags across the windowsill.
“no…god…i just — ” you plead, wanting to reach that pleasure that your fingers were just barely providing. your legs are moving along the sheets as you turn your head to the side. your body was racked with heightening pleasure. you wanted to reach that peak. and with your eyes shut tight, and your turned away head, you don’t notice the helping hand hovering up your thigh, until you feel the slightest touch of a claw.
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2K notes · View notes
novlr · 1 month
Note
How to write loneliness?
Loneliness is a universally shared emotion that shapes the psyche of your characters and the world they inhabit. It’s a silent force that can drive and change your characters, adding layers of complexity and pathos to their development. Here are some quick tips to write about characters experiencing loneliness.
Behaviour
May avoid social interactions.
Often choose to isolate themselves.
A lack of enthusiasm for activities they once enjoyed.
May appear distracted, distant, or aloof.
Neglect their personal appearance or living space.
Overuse technology or social media as a substitute for real-life interaction.
Engage in one-sided conversations with pets or inanimate objects.
Have a rigid routine that keeps them isolated.
Live vicariously through fictional characters in books and on TV.
Resist attempts by others to engage with them socially.
Interactions
Conversations may be brief, superficial, and lacking in depth.
Avoid eye contact and physically withdraw in social settings.
Miss social cues or respond inappropriately during interactions.
Exhibit envy or resentment towards those with strong social connections.
Overly formal or distant, even with friends.
React negatively to offers of companionship or help.
Express a cynical or negative view of relationships and friendships.
Display relief when social interactions are over.
Deflect personal questions and redirect the conversation.
Have a small social circle but lack a true confidant or intimate relationships.
Body language
Slumped shoulders or lowered head to avoid drawing attention.
Minimal or restrained gestures during conversations.
A fixed or blank expression, showing their detachment.
Fiddle with objects or their clothing as a self-soothing behaviour.
Cross their arms or legs defensively when approached.
Sit or stand at the edges of a group, physically distancing themselves.
Might have a nervous tick or habit when faced with social interaction.
Exhibit slow or lethargic movements, suggesting a lack of energy or interest.
Have a personal bubble they are reluctant to let others penetrate.
Usually the last to arrive and the first to leave social gatherings.
Attitude
Express a philosophical or poetic view on the nature of solitude.
Have an air of resignation or acceptance of their loneliness.
Harbour a secret hope of finding connection, but feel it is unattainable.
Quick to criticise or judge others as a defence mechanism.
Have a deep internal world that is rich and complex, contrasting with their outer displays of loneliness.
Believe that they are fundamentally different or disconnected from others.
Have a strong sense of self-reliance, seeing it as a necessity.
Demonstrate a fear of rejection or abandonment that prevents them from reaching out.
Heightened sensitivity to the pain of others, stemming from their own loneliness.
Experience moments of clarity or creativity when they are alone.
Positive story outcomes
Find strength and independence in solitude.
Experience personal growth and self-discovery.
Form a meaningful connection that alleviates their loneliness.
Gain a deeper understanding and empathy for the loneliness of others.
Use their time alone to develop a skill or pursue a passion.
Find that solitude allows for reflection and the development of a clear perspective.
Inspire others to appreciate their own company and find peace in solitude.
Become a catalyst for change, helping others to overcome their loneliness.
Create a work of art or literature that expresses their feelings and connects with others.
Their experiences of loneliness make their relationships more meaningful when they do occur.
Negative story outcomes
Become increasingly detached and withdrawn from the world.
Develop mental health issues such as depression or anxiety.
Make poor decisions due to a lack of guidance and support.
Grow to resent others, leading to conflicts and misunderstandings.
Spiral into destructive behaviours as a way to cope.
Experience a sense of hopelessness about ever finding connection.
Become distrustful of others, hindering potential relationships.
Lose touch with social norms and struggle to reintegrate into society.
Overlook or sabotage potential opportunities for companionship.
Leave a lasting impression of sadness and regret in the narrative.
Helpful vocabulary
Forlorn
Sequestered
Estranged
Abandoned
Reclusive
Isolated
Adrift
Detached
Solitary
Alienated
Despondent
Forsaken
Lonesome
Marooned
Melancholic
Ostracised
Remote
Unaccompanied
Vacant
Withdrawn
Yearning
Bereft
Disconnected
Outcast
487 notes · View notes
pucksandpower · 7 months
Text
Gilded Cage
Charles Leclerc x heiress!Reader
Summary: when a girl who craves for freedom meets a boy who knows what it feels like to race at the speed of light
Warnings: overprotective (but loving) father
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The first time you tried to escape, you were seven.
“Y/N, let go of the bird!” The nanny’s frantic voice echoed as your small fingers clutched the delicate cage, trying to unlatch it.
“I just want to see it fly!” You cried, tears streaming down your face, looking at the trapped canary. Its golden feathers seemed dulled, its tiny beak opened in a silent plea for freedom.
The cage slipped from your grasp, crashing onto the pristine marble floors. The sound was deafening in the otherwise quiet mansion. Your nanny rushed forward but not before the canary took off, its wings catching the sun, radiating a blinding brightness.
You watched, mesmerized, as the bird soared above, circling once before disappearing into the vast blue sky.
“It’s gone …” your nanny muttered, distraught at the loss of such a valuable creature.
But you, young and innocent, whispered with a smile of pure joy, “It’s free.”
From that day on, you knew one thing for certain: no amount of gold or jewels could substitute for the glitter of freedom.
***
“Again!”
The shout echoes through the cavernous halls of your palatial home. Somewhere outside, the splashing of the water from the elaborate marble fountain merges with the faint humming of gardeners trimming the intricate mazes. The walls, lined with gold-trimmed tapestries and priceless paintings, feel more like prison bars than luxuries.
"Again!"
Your fingers, stiff and aching, try to mimic the piano instructor’s exact movements. Every wrong note feels like a physical blow, another reminder that you are trapped in a world of perfection and expectations.
“I don’t want to play anymore,” you whisper but it came out stronger, more defiant than you intended.
Madame Lucille, your instructor, raises an eyebrow, unaccustomed to your resistance. “Your father wishes you to be well-versed in the classics,” she reminds you with a patronizing tone.
A voice, deep and commanding, interrupts the tension, “Let her be, Lucille.”
Your father stands at the doorway, his expensive suit impeccably tailored, matching the stern look on his face.
“But Sir, she—”
“I said, let her be.”
Madame Lucille gives you one last disapproving glare before hurriedly packing her things. Your father watches her go then turnes to you with softer eyes. “I just want the best for you,” he murmurs, walking over to sit beside you on the grand piano bench.
You take a deep breath, “I know, Papa. But I want to breathe, to live. Not just exist inside these walls.”
He sighs, looking tired. “The world out there isn’t a nice one. There are those who would want to harm you, to use you.”
“I would risk it,” you admit quietly, “For a taste of real life. For a moment outside this golden cage.”
He takes your hand, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re my everything. I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”
The weight of his love and the prison of his protection bears down on you. “One day, whether you like it or not, I’ll have to face the world. And when that day comes, I want to be ready.”
He leans back, looking up at the ornate chandelier. “What if that day was sooner than you thought?”
Confusion marrs your features. “What do you mean?”
He smiles cryptically, “There’s a Formula 1 race across the country next week. I sponsor Ferrari. Thought you might like to come with me, see something different for a change.”
You blink, taking a moment to process. “A ... race?”
He nods, “Yes. It’s not freedom but it’s a start.”
You look into his eyes, seeing a glimmer of understanding. “Okay,” you whisper, “Let’s start there.”
***
“The roar of the engines, the energy of the crowd ... there’s quite nothing like it,” your father begins, his usually stern voice tinted with boyish enthusiasm. You find yourself watching him, intrigued by this rare display of passion.
Sitting across the opulent dining table, which was rarely used to host anyone but the two of you, you play with your food, pushing it around the plate. “Cars going in circles? I don’t see the appeal.”
He chuckles, taking a sip of his vintage wine. “Oh, it’s much more than that. The strategy, the risk, the sheer speed ... it’s ballet at 300 kilometers per hour.”
You raise an eyebrow, interest piqued despite yourself. “Ballet? Really?”
He nods with a smirk. “Don’t tell me you’re not curious now?”
You hesitate. “I mean, maybe a little? But why the sudden interest in taking me? I’ve never even seen you watch a race.”
He leans forward, his gaze intense, searching yours. “I sponsor Ferrari and have an open invite to every race. Now that one will be hosted nearby, I thought maybe it’s time you see a bit more of the world. Not just through the glass windows.”
You blink in surprise. This was unexpected. “A public event? With crowds and other people?”
He nods slowly. “With crowds and other people.”
You weigh the options in your mind, the yearning for freedom battling with the anxiety of exposure. “And you think I’m ready for this?”
He reaches across the table, his fingers brushing yours. “I think we’re ready for this. It will be an unforgettable experience, I promise.”
You look into his eyes and realize that this is as much a leap for him as it is for you. Taking a deep breath, you reply, “Alright, Papa. Let’s go watch some ballet.”
***
“The red ... it’s everywhere.” You can’t help but blurt out, momentarily overwhelmed.
Your father chuckles beside you. “Well, it is Ferrari. Red is their signature.”
You gaze down, the red soles of your Louboutins now seem almost camouflaged against the vibrant Ferrari decor. “Feels like I’m stepping into another world.”
“Just stay close,” your father advises, his protective instincts rearing up again.
Promising him with a nod, you’re soon lost in the kaleidoscope of sounds and colors. The hustle of engineers, the chatter of excited fans, the roar of engines being worked on.
Suddenly, a man clad in a racing suit accidentally bumps into you, causing your drink to splatter.
“Mon dieu! I am so sorry!” He exclaims, eyes wide.
You find yourself staring not at the stained dress but into the most expressive eyes you’ve ever seen. “It’s ... it’s okay,” you stutter, taken aback by the unexpected jolt of electricity at the brief contact.
He looks genuinely apologetic. “Let me make it up to you? Another drink, perhaps?”
You laugh, “Only if you promise not to spill it.”
He grins, the smile reaching his eyes. “Deal. I’m Charles, by the way.”
Hesitating for a split second, you reply, “Y/N.”
He raises an eyebrow, “No last name?”
You smirk, “Not today.”
Charles chuckles, intrigued. “Alright, Y/N-with-no-last-name, let’s get you that drink.”
You follow him, weaving through the crowd. Every now and then, someone stops Charles to shake his hand or pat him on the back, throwing in a “Good luck, Charles!” or “Can’t wait to see you on the track!” He greets everyone with a genuine smile and a word of thanks. It’s clear just how loved he is here.
However, you remain a mystery to him. He sneaks curious glances your way, the playful teasing evident in his eyes. “So are you a big Ferrari fan or just here because you look particularly fetching in red?”
You laugh, the sound more carefree than you’ve felt in ages. “Let’s just say I’m here to explore something ... different.”
Charles nods, handing you a fresh glass from the bar. The bubbling champagne mirrors the effervescence you feel inside. “Different can be good,” he muses, taking a sip from his own plastic water bottle. “Sometimes it’s the unexpected moments that change everything.”
The weight of his gaze, the intensity of the moment, makes your heart race. “Tell me, Charles,” you begin, leaning in slightly, “What was the unexpected moment that changed everything for you?”
He looks taken aback, clearly not expecting such a question. He takes a thoughtful pause, “Every time I get behind the wheel. Each race is a new story, an unexpected twist waiting to happen.”
You nod, appreciating his sincerity. “It’s brave, you know. Facing the unexpected at such high speeds.”
He smiles warmly. “It’s not bravery, it’s passion. When you love something deeply, risks become challenges instead of threats.”
Your fingers toy with the stem of your glass, his words resonating with your own yearning for freedom. “I envy that,” you admit softly.
Charles tilts his head, studying you. “Why?”
You search for the right words. “I’ve lived in a world of certainty for so long. Every step planned, every move calculated. It’s ... suffocating.”
Charles reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “Then maybe it’s time to take a risk, Y/N-with-no-last-name. Even just a small one.”
You smile, the promise of the unknown beckoning. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time.”
***
“Do you trust me?” Charles’ eyes search yours, intense under the paddock lights.
You blink, taken aback by the sudden question. “We just met.”
He grins, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “That’s not an answer.”
Drawing in a deep breath, you reply, “I might. What are you proposing?”
His gaze drifts momentarily to the track. “After qualifying … how about a drive? Not here,” he adds, seeing your hesitation, “Away from all this. The city at night, the open road. Just two people and the world.”
You tilt your head, contemplating the offer. A spark of excitement ignites within you. “A midnight drive with a stranger? Sounds reckless.”
He chuckles, leaning in closer. The scent of leather and adrenaline wraps around you. “Life’s best moments usually are.”
As his name is called by his press officer, Charles straightens up. “I have to go. But think about it, Y/N-with-no-last-name. The invitation stands.”
Before you can respond, he jots down something on a piece of paper and hands it to you. An address. “Meet me here if you’re in. Midnight.”
You watch him stride confidently towards his garage, the weight of the decision pressing on you. Risk, freedom, the open road — its all you’ve always yearned for.
Hours later, as Charles places his car on pole, you find yourself gripping that piece of paper. The thought of the city lights and the wind through your hair is too alluring to resist.
You whisper to yourself, “Midnight it is.”
***
The ornate curtains rustle as you inch your way onto the balcony of your suite. The sheer drop below sends a thrilling chill down your spine. You’ve never snuck out before but the thought of the night ahead and Charles’ invitation propels you forward. You hitch up your dress, carefully lowering yourself onto the ledge below. The soft grass cushions your landing and you take a moment to steady your racing heart.
“You’re even crazier than I am,” a familiar voice observes from the shadows.
You whirl around, finding Charles leaning against his car, an impressed grin on his face. “I had to make a discreet exit,” you explain, cheeks warming.
He chuckles, pushing away from the car and walking over to you. “Glad you made it. Ready for our adventure?”
You nod, the proximity of him, the thrill of the night, everything heightening your senses. “More than ever.”
The car roars to life as you both settle in. The city lights blur past, the nocturnal beauty of the world unfolding around you. The road beckons, the possibilities endless.
Charles casts a sidelong glance at you, a playful smirk on his lips. “Ever driven with no speed limit?”
You laugh, “Not in my daily commute.”
He grins, “There’s a first time for everything.”
The car accelerates, the wind whipping through your hair, the night alive with potential. The city skyline fades, replaced by an open stretch of road, illuminated only by the car’s headlights and the soft glow of the moon.
Charles’ voice breaks the comfortable silence. “There’s something freeing about the night. The world sleeps, and for a few hours, you can pretend you’re the only ones alive.”
You glance over, sensing the depth of emotion behind his words. “Is this why you race? For that freedom?”
He nods, his profile bathed in moonlight. “And more. Every time I’m behind the wheel, it’s a battle against my doubts, the world, and myself.”
You understand, the weight of your own gilded cage pressing on you. “I’ve been trapped for so long. But tonight, with you, I feel … alive.”
He reaches over, entwining his fingers with yours. “Then let’s live. For tonight, let’s forget the world.”
***
“Why are those men watching us?” Charles’ voice is low, almost a whisper, as he subtly gestures towards two figures in dark suits, positioned at opposite sides of the bar you found yourselves at.
You follow his gaze discreetly, feeling a familiar dread settling in. Security. Your father’s men. “They’re ... they’re just protective, that’s all.”
Charles narrows his eyes, piecing things together. “Protective? Y/N, who are you really?”
A pang of guilt washes over you. You had hoped for more time before this moment, more stolen moments under the veil of anonymity. “It’s complicated,” you admit, hesitating.
He leans forward, his intense eyes searching yours. “Try me.”
You take a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. “My life ... it’s not what it seems. I live in a gilded cage. A cage built by my father’s wealth and influence. A beautiful cage, yes, but a cage nonetheless.”
He processes this, watching as one of the security approaches your table, handing you a phone. “Your father wishes to speak with you,” the man says tersely.
Charles’ gaze sharpens, suspicion evident. “Your father?”
You nod, taking the phone with a sigh. “Hello, Papa.”
“Y/N,” your father’s voice is a mix of relief and sternness, “I’ve been so worried. You just disappeared.”
“I needed some time,” you explain, glancing apologetically at Charles who is watching the exchange closely.
“You should come back now.”
“I’m not a child anymore,” you argue gently, “I need to live my life.”
A heavy silence follows. “Just ... be safe,” he finally murmurs.
Hanging up, you face Charles, the weight of the world pressing on you. “I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner.”
Charles leans back, his expression unreadable. “So, the mysterious Y/N-with-no-last-name turns out to be the daughter of …?”
You sigh, “A very wealthy and overprotective man.”
He processes this, the playful teasing from before replaced by deep contemplation. “You know, secrets have a way of catching up with us. But,” he adds with a hint of a smile, “I’m interested in who you are, not your family name.”
You smile, relief washing over you. “Then let’s leave the secrets for another day.”
***
The morning sun paints the Ferrari garage in a wash of golden hues, every glinting reflection a dance of radiant red. Charles stands out despite wearing the same color as he eagerly waves you over to show off the helmet in his hands.
“It’s beautiful.” Your fingers trace the lines of the design, the light catching on its glossy finish.
Charles spins the helmet so you can see every detail. “Not just the design. It’s the weight, the feel. When I put this on, I’m stepping into another world. Everything else fades away. Just the track, the car, and me.”
You smile, fascinated by his passion. But as your gaze slides over the helmet, you freeze. There, emblazoned on the side, is the unmistakable logo of Y/L/N Industries. You try to hide your surprise but Charles catches your reaction. “You recognize the logo?”
Swallowing hard, you nod. “It’s … everywhere, isn’t it?”
Charles, not picking up on your unease, grins. “Oh yes. They’re our main sponsors this season. Y/L/N Industries is massive.”
Your heart thuds. Every mention, every hint, makes the looming truth harder to avoid. “They seem ... impressive.”
You avoid his gaze, watching the mechanics prepare the cars for the race. Each Ferrari, shining in the morning sun, proudly displays the same Y/L/N Industries logo. There’s no escaping it.
Noticing your distraction, Charles follows your gaze. “I’ve always found it fascinating. How brands link up with teams. How they can become synonymous with each other over the years. Like what we had with Marlboro and now Y/L/N Industries. It’s ... an alliance.”
You chuckle, trying to deflect. “An expensive alliance.”
He laughs, “Very true. But Y/L/N Industries is more than just a name on our cars. I met the owner once, at a sponsorship event. Very ... protective of his interests.”
You gulp, feeling cornered. “Is that so?”
Charles nods, oblivious to your discomfort. “Yes. Has a daughter too, I’ve heard. But she’s kept away from the limelight. Must be hard, living under such a powerful shadow.”
Your voice is barely a whisper, “You have no idea.”
He looks at you, sensing the weight behind your words. “Y/N?”
Taking a deep breath, you finally admit, “My last name ... it’s Y/L/N.”
He stares, processing the revelation. The playful driver you spent the past days with is replaced by someone more cautious, more guarded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
You look down, fighting back tears. “I wanted to be just Y/N, not a Y/L/N. I wanted freedom, even if just for a few days.”
Charles reaches out, lifting your chin gently. “You're still Y/N to me. But secrets ... they complicate things.”
You nod, regret clear in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He smiles, though it’s not quite as bright as usual. “Let’s focus on today. The race. We’ll figure the rest out later.”
***
You’re startled from your thoughts when the doors to your room burst open, the journal in which you’ve been scribbling memories of your secret meetings with Charles slipping from your fingers.
Your father stands there, a mixture of anger and desperation etching his features. In his hand, he holds a photograph — one of you and Charles lost in conversation in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant.
“Explain this,” he demands, voice shaking.
You swallow hard, the weight of your secret outings pressing down on you. “Papa, I—”
He cuts you off, waving the photograph. “Weeks, Y/N! Weeks you’ve been sneaking around, meeting him. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
Your voice trembles, “I just want something for myself, something real.”
He looks torn, battling between his desire to protect you and understanding your need for freedom. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because,” you hesitate, taking a deep breath, “I want to be just Y/N for once, not Y/N Y/L/N.”
“Don’t you see? That’s exactly why I protect you! The world will never see just Y/N. They will always see a Y/L/N and they will always want something from you.”
“You can’t keep doing this!” The words burst out of you before you can stop them, the pent-up frustration, fear, and yearning for freedom all culminating in this very moment.
Your father stands at the opposite end of the lavish living room, the city skyline a muted backdrop behind him. His eyes, usually so authoritative, are wide with surprise and concern. “I am only looking out for you.”
You shake your head, your voice trembling. “Looking out for me or controlling me?”
He flinches as if you physically struck him. “I want to keep you safe.”
Safe. The word hangs heavily between you, a reminder of the invisible chains binding you. “At what cost, Papa? My happiness? My freedom?”
He sighs, running a hand through his graying hair. “It’s not that simple.”
You pace the room, your emotions spilling over. “Do you even realize? Every choice, every decision has been made for me. Who I meet, where I go, even what I feel. I am suffocating!”
He looks pained. “I never meant to—”
“But you did!” You interject, tears streaming down your face. “Every time you made a choice for me, you took away a piece of my life.”
A heavy silence settles between you two, the unspoken words and regrets creating an impenetrable barrier.
Finally, your father speaks, his voice soft and filled with sorrow. “I lost your mother. I can’t bear the thought of losing you too.”
Your heart aches, understanding and resentment warring within. “I’m not Mama. I need to live, make mistakes, find love. I need to be free.”
He closes his eyes tightly, the weight of your words pressing down on him. “I just ... I love you so much.”
You walk over, taking his hands in yours, feeling the roughness of age and experience. “And I love you. But love isn’t about possession. It’s about understanding, trust, and letting go.”
Tears brim his eyes, the facade of the powerful businessman crumbling. “You will always be my little girl. I would give up every dollar — everything — if it meant keeping you safe. I’m scared that one day I won’t be able to protect you.”
You squeeze his hands. “We have to face our fears. Together.”
***
“He knows. Papa knows about us.” Your voice wavers as you meet in your secret hideaway, a small bakery tucked away from prying eyes.
Charles’ face pales, his fingers gripping the table edge. “How did he react?”
You draw in a shuddering breath, recalling the confrontation. “Not well. He feels... betrayed. I think I got through to him eventually but you never know with him. One second he’s smiling at a business rival and the next he’s snatching away their company in a hostile takeover.”
Charles’ eyes darken with concern. “I don’t want you caught in the crossfire between me and Y/L/N Industries.”
You shake your head, reaching out to touch his hand. “This isn’t about sponsorships or racing. This is about us. He’s just overprotective.”
He sighs, rubbing his temples. “This complicates things. Your father’s influence runs deep, even in the racing world.”
Tears sting your eyes. “So what? Are you saying we should …?”
“No,” Charles interjects firmly, squeezing your hand. “I’m saying we need to be careful. I won’t let anything harm you.”
A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “My father would never hurt me … at least not physically. It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s you.”
He smirks, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, I do have a penchant for driving really fast cars. Comes with a touch of danger.”
You’re not amused. “This is serious. Papa can be ... vindictive.”
Charles looks deep into your eyes. “Then we face this together. Secrets have kept us apart but now, truth will keep us together.”
You lean in, your foreheads touching. “Promise?”
He smiles, capturing your lips in a kiss. “Promise.”
***
A reporter leans forward, her voice crackling with excitement. “Charles, you just secured a stunning victory for Ferrari in a race that almost everyone thought was Red Bull’s to lose. How does it feel to come out on top?”
Charles grins, his eyes alive with a fire that burns brighter than ever. “Honestly, it’s hard to describe. We’ve been pushing ourselves, refining the car, and today, everything just clicked. The team’s effort, the car’s performance, it all paid off.”
The crowd cheers, their elation echoing through the broadcast. The reporter presses on, “You dedicated this win to someone special. Care to tell us who?”
Charles’ gaze softens, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. “There’s someone who has shown me a world beyond the track. Someone who made me realize that the freedom I feel whenever I get behind the wheel is even more precious than I always thought. This win is for her.”
A murmur ripples through the crowd, the identity of this mysterious someone a topic of speculation. The reporter smiles, clearly eager for more details. “And can you give us a hint? Is she here today?”
Charles chuckles, his dimples popping through. “Let’s just say she’s closer than you might think.”
Later, as the celebrations continue, you find yourself in a secluded corner of the motorhome, away from the clamor of the team and fans. Charles walks over, that same victorious smile on his lips. “Did you hear?”
You nod, heart still racing. “You dedicated the win to me.”
He steps closer, his hand cupping your cheek. “Of course. You’ve given me one more reason to keep pushing, keep racing. It’s not just about the cars. It’s about the freedom, the moments we steal away from the world.”
Tears well up in your eyes and you kiss him passionately, pouring all your emotions into that single moment. The crowd may not know the truth behind his dedication yet but you do. And that’s all that matters.
***
“Charles seems ... different than the others,” your father begins, his gaze distant as he looks out from the penthouse balcony.
You step closer, the night air cool against your skin. “Different how?”
He sighs, turning to face you, vulnerability evident in his eyes. “He looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. He looks at you how I used to look at your mother.”
You smile, “I never expected you to notice.”
He chuckles softly. “Just because I’m protective doesn’t mean I’m blind. I’ve watched people all my life. It’s how I built everything,” he gestures towards the sprawling city below, the twinkling lights of his corporate empire.
The weight of the moment settles between you, the years of misunderstandings and unspoken words pressing down. “Papa, I know you’re scared. Scared of the world out there, of what it might do. But I can’t be trapped forever.”
His expression softens, pain evident. “I have seen so much, faced so many betrayals. The world is rarely kind.”
You reach out, touching his arm gently. “I understand. But holding on too tight will only push me away.”
He closes his eyes, taking a shaky breath. “It’s just ... hard. Watching you grow, wanting to spread your wings. I wish I could shield you from everything.”
You smile gently. “But then I wouldn’t truly be living. Charles, he’s shown me a world beyond these walls. A world that’s unpredictable, thrilling, and real.”
Your father nods slowly. “I saw that. The way he stood by you, the way he spoke of you. He … he loves you.”
You wrap your arms around yourself, the night’s chill deepening. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Someone who sees me, not my last name, not a walking dollar sign.”
He steps closer, pulling you into a comforting embrace. “I’m trying. It’s not easy, letting go. But I trust you. I just need time.”
You nod, resting your head against his chest. “I know. Just promise me one thing.”
He tilts your chin up, looking into your eyes. “Anything.”
You smile, a weight lifting off your shoulders. “Trust him too. Give Charles a chance.”
He sighs, the walls he built over the years slowly crumbling. “For you, I’ll try.”
***
“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” your father says, breaking the tense silence that envelops the extravagant dining room.
Charles, sitting straight-backed and visibly anxious, clears his throat. “Sir, I assure you, my intentions with Y/N are—”
Genuine laughter interrupts him. You glance in shock at your father, who chuckles, “Relax, Charles. I’ve watched you on the track. You face challenges head-on. That’s a quality I admire.”
Charles exhales a sigh of relief. “Thank you, sir. Y/N means the world to me.”
Your father studies Charles, his gaze thoughtful. “I can see that. And I have seen the change in Y/N since she met you.”
You bite your lip, waiting for what he might say next. “Papa, I—”
He raises a hand, silencing you. “I’ve spent my life building walls around you, trying to protect you from the world. But maybe ... maybe it’s time to let you fly.”
Your heart leaps in your chest. “Papa …”
He smiles at you, warmth shining in his eyes. “You’re my daughter. All I’ve ever wanted is your happiness. If Charles is the one who brings that joy, then I give you both my blessing.”
Tears glisten in your eyes as you stand, moving to embrace your father. “Thank you.”
Charles stands too, extending a hand towards your father. “Thank you, sir. I promise to take cherish and take care of her.”
Your father grasps Charles’ hand for a moment longer than expected, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “Charles,” he begins, a twinkle of mischief evident, “just remember … if you ever hurt my daughter, they will never find your body.”
Charles gulps, eyes widening, then realizes the playful tone your father has adopted. He chuckles, nodding, “Duly noted, sir.”
You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Papa, you are impossible.”
Your father grins, the atmosphere significantly lighter. “Just making sure he understands.”
Charles playfully raises his hands in surrender. “Message received loud and clear.”
***
The pitter-patter of little feet echoes through the grand halls, accompanied by peals of laughter. The once silent mansion is now alive with the exuberance of youth. Every corner and every room tells tales of play and joy, of childhood memories being crafted.
“Slow down, my darlings!” You call out in amusement as you chase the energetic duo.
Charles laughs as one of your kids hides behind him, tiny hands clutching his leg. “You can’t hide here forever!” He teases.
From the doorway, your father watches, his eyes glassy. The stoic businessman, the guardian of a vast empire, is rendered soft and vulnerable by the presence of his grandchildren.
“Grandpa!” The children cheer, running to him, their arms outstretched.
He bends down, scooping them into a gentle embrace. “I have a surprise for you,” he whispers, producing a small cage with a golden canary inside from behind his back. Its wings barely beat, eyes darting around to mirror its trapped spirit.
The children’s eyes widen in wonder. “Why is it in a cage, Grandpa?”
Your father looks up, meeting your gaze, the weight of the past reflected in his eyes. “It looked sad at the market, just like someone I once knew. But we’re going to set it free.”
Together, the family moves to the balcony. Your father opens the cage door, and the canary, after a hesitant moment, takes flight, its song a melody of freedom and hope.
As you watch the bird disappear into the horizon, your father breaks the silence. “Sometimes, we cage the things we love, thinking it’s for the best. But true love is about letting go, letting them spread their wings.”
You lean into Charles, his arm wrapping around you, the children nestled between you both. “Thank you, Papa,” you whisper. “For letting us learn the true meaning of freedom.”
Your father smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “It took me a while but I finally understand. Love, life, freedom — they’re all interconnected. We just have to find our sky.”
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thetriumphantpanda · 9 months
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the touch of a hand lit the fuse
So, turns out y'all lapped up my dbf!Joel and now I'm kinda speechless? Like, tysm for loving this enough to like semi-blow it up. But never fear, our favourite neighbourhood DILF is back and filthier than ever today. I wrote this under the influence of a rather strong margarita, so forgive any mistake and the uninhibited filth you're about to consume. Enjoy.
Pairing | dbf!Joel x female reader
Summary | Four days on from being spread on Joel's lap, he's back to fix up your attic when you're home alone.
Word Count | 3.6k
Warnings | I mean, blanket warning for dbf!Joel because he's always a menace. Alcohol consumption, NO USE OF Y/N, masterbating (F), unprotected PiV sex (Don't be dumb, wrap it up), age gap (Reader is 25, Joel is 36), size kink, some dirty talk and that's it.
Part 1 | Main Masterlist
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It was Wednesday and you were still reeling from what had happened at the party on Saturday. Whenever you led in bed there was the feeling of Joel’s fingers ghosting over you. You were ashamed of the number of times you’d touched yourself, trying to emulate how Joel’s fingers had felt inside of you, failing miserably, but still getting yourself off with tight circles on your clit, moaning his name into your pillow as you made yourself come. It was a dreadful substitute, but you didn’t have much choice – Joel had been MIA since he'd left on Saturday night. 
You were sat at the table in the kitchen with your parents, sipping on orange juice and pushing eggs around your plate before they both went to work, “Oh, I forgot to mention, Joel’s coming over this morning to take a look at starting that work in the attic, you’ll be around to let him in, won’t you?” 
You tried to keep as nonchalant as possible at your dad’s voice, “Yeah, I’ll be here.” 
A house to yourself with Joel Miller, of course you’d be here, there was no-where else you’d rather be. Once your parents had eaten and stacked their dishes for you to wash up in your free time later, you raced upstairs to your room, dragging out the tightest pair of shorts you owned and a low-cut tank top. You’d never been the type to play into this sort of thing – if someone wanted you, then they could want you in your baggy jeans and jumpers, but Joel was different, and you knew it. You’d seen it the last time, how he fought to the last second not to give into you and his desires, you didn’t want to give him a reason to do it again. 
You made quick work of hopping in the shower before pulling your clothes on, choosing a coloured bra to sit under your white tank top, but deciding against underwear beneath your shorts. Then you sat on couch and waited, anticipation rising with every minute there wasn’t a knock on the door. It took him another hour to arrive – the knock at the door dragging a gasp of surprise from your lips. 
You practically ran to the front door, stopping only to run a hand through your hair and take a deep breath before you opened it. It never mattered where or when you saw him, he was always fucking gorgeous. Like now, stood in front of you, toolbox in hand, dark t-shirt and jeans clinging to him, hair mused and a smirk on his lips. 
“Sorry I’m late sugar,” He breathes, “Had to cover a job first thing for Tommy.” 
“That’s alright,” You smile, leaning against the door so he can walk past, “You want a drink of anything?” 
You were slightly put out that he hadn’t immediately bent his head and planted a kiss to your lips, but you weren’t going to be a brat about it. At least not yet. 
“Water’ll be just fine thanks,” He says over his shoulder as he’s moving towards the stairs, “I’m just gonna get started, don’t let me interrupt you.” 
You’re not interrupting anything is what you want to say, but he’s already taking the stairs two at a time, as if he’s in a rush to get away from you. It hurts, but you try and swallow your pride for now. He wasn’t going to get away with it that easily. 
You fill up a glass of water from the fridge with some ice, it’s hot after all, before you head upstairs. He’s already got the ladder from the attic down and is searching through his toolbox for what he needs, setting each different tool on his utility belt when he finds it. 
“You want me to pass this up to you once you’ve tackled the ladder, Miller?” You ask. 
He turns to you with his hand on one of the ladder rungs, “I’d be much obliged, sweetheart.” 
You swear that he takes each step of the ladder excruciatingly slow just for your benefit, but you aren’t going to complain – it affords you a glorious view of his ass, fitting tightly into his jeans – had he done that to you on purpose, just like you did for him? You watch intently as he turns and kneels and sticks his hand down for the glass of water. You pass it to him, and he does exactly what he did with his bottle of beer on the weekend, grabs it exactly where your hand is so his fingers brush against yours. Lighting a fuse right through your body. If you could spontaneously catch fire you think this would have done it.
“I’ll be downstairs if you need me, just shout.” 
You flop yourself down on the couch, huffing out an annoyed breath as you reach for the magazine you’d been trying to read before he arrived. Thinking it would be easier to concentrate on now Joel was working away upstairs, you’re sorely mistaken. Your eyes glaze over the same two sentences – it’s an advice column, some housewife wanting to know how she could make her husband want her again after months of living in a dead bedroom. You don’t pretend to care, you look down to the bottom of the column – Andrea, 48. What you really want the editor to say in response is that Andrea should cut her losses, find someone younger, fitter and more handsome and sack off her obviously boring husband. What they really say is that she can spice things up by wearing sexy lingerie and being spontaneous, maybe you can try taking sex out of the bedroom for things to feel newer and more exciting. 
They’d got that much right. Your brain is drifting back to Saturday night, sat on Joel’s lap with his thick fingers moving in and out of your pussy. That had been new and exciting. Maybe Andrea should try that with her own husband. 
You sigh and throw the magazine to the ground – nothing is going to stop the bubbling lust and frustration in your stomach. Nothing except for what you really want, and that Joel, peeling your clothes off and seating himself so deep inside you that you can’t think properly. You can hear him banging around in the attic, unsure of what he’s actually doing. 
Before you know what you’re doing, one of your hands is making quick work of undoing the button on your shorts, moving them just enough so you can slip your hand below the material. Your ears focus on sound of Joel’s footsteps in the distance. You bet there’s a thin film of sweat on his skin up there, you think as your fingers dip to the entrance of your pussy, finding yourself just as wet as you were on the weekend. Maybe he’s taken his shirt off, you think as the slick you’d gathered on your fingers make sliding them over your clit easier. The mental vision of the muscles in his back rippling as he bends to work and the way his arms would tense make bringing yourself to the edge of oblivion a piece of cake, but it’s the final vision you have of him pushing you against the dank attic wall and pounding into you that has you coming. You bite down on your hand to stop yourself from making noise, convulsing on the couch with the aftershocks of your orgasm. 
There was a slight feeling of embarrassment that sat through your stomach for a moment when you’d realized you’d gotten yourself whilst Joel was unaware upstairs. You quickly buttoned up your shorts and placed an arm over your eyes whilst you tried to catch your breath and before you could stop yourself you were drifting off to sleep. 
You woke with a start God knows how long later, the sound of something hitting the ground drawing you from your dreamless nap. You sat up and rubbed at your eyes and saw Joel setting his toolbox by the front door. 
“Sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep.” You mumble, pushing yourself off the couch. 
“S’alright,” He smiles at you, “S’your house.” 
“You get everything done?” You ask. 
He shakes his head, “Gonna be a big job up there, don’t have the stuff to finish it all today.” 
You nod like you understand, “Anything else on today?” 
He smirks at you like he knows what you’re thinking, “Nope,” is all he says, “You?” 
You match his smirk, “Nope, convenient huh?” He nods, “You want a drink?” 
You look at the clock on the wall, it’s nearing 2pm, “Beer?” 
“Yes ma’am.”
You try and push down the arousal that pooled in your stomach at that. It hadn’t been two hours since you’d gotten yourself off but God there was just something about this man that made your blood run hot and turned you into something akin to a dog in heat. He follows behind you as you go to the kitchen, gratefully accepting the ice-cold beer that you’d popped the cap off. 
You stand at opposite sides of the kitchen – Joel leant up against the counter near the sink, you doing similar against the breakfast island. It’s silent as you both eye one another up, taking languid sips of beer as you do so. You could cut the tension in here with a fucking knife. You made the first move last time, it’s his turn to do it. 
“Y’know you don’t have to wear that kinda stuff for me, don’t ya?” His eyebrow is cocked, and you know he’s talking about the shorts that barely cover your ass and the blue bra he can clearly see through your top. 
“Shall I take them off then?” 
He’s leant against the kitchen counter, looking as casual as can be, but you don’t miss the way his eyes darken, glazed with lust. He takes another drink of his beer before setting the bottle down, crossing his arms over his chest, eyebrow raised. 
“You wanna see me naked, Joel Miller?” 
“You want me to see you naked?” He counters.
“You’re in charge baby, you need to tell me what you want.” You dare. 
He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as he’s thinking before he’s unraveling his arms from his chest, “Well, in that case, come over here and kiss me.” 
Your feet are moving before he’s even finished speaking, closing the gap between you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pushing yourself up on your tiptoes as his own arms wrap around your waist as his dips his head and wastes no time connecting your lips together. As soon as they do you can feel the tension dripping from your body, pooling on the floor as if it never existed. 
Joel’s got you pulled flush to his body, warmth radiating through the material covering your bodies as his mouth opens and he’s swiping his tongue across your bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth and bites down slightly. He slips his tongue into your mouth when you gasp at the slight bite of pain from his teeth, which is quickly forgotten when you can taste him on your mouth. The slight yeast from the beer, something minty, suggesting he’d been chewing gum whilst working and the inevitable flavour that’s just pure Joel that you cannot place.
His hands are slipping down from your waist to cup your ass – hands on bare skin where the globes of your ass meet the back on your thighs, dragging you further into him. You can feel his own arousal prodding between you which has a moan tumbling from your lips, swallowed by Joel’s own mouth as he continues to lick into your mouth. 
His hands are sliding around to the front of your shorts, deftly undoing the button, not unlike how you’d done it just a few hours before. His hand is snaking down into the material and then he’s pulling away from your lips, a groan of frustration leaving your mouth as he does so. 
“What’s this?” He asks, brushing his fingers along the seam of your pussy, “Didn’t wanna bother with lace today?” 
“Saving time.” You mumble, a sigh leaving your lips as his fingers move lower. 
“Fuckin’ hell sweetheart, are you always this wet?” He groans when one of his finger’s dips slightly between your folds. 
“Only for you,” Another sigh, “I… fuck, Joel…” You’re trying to get your words out but the way he’s brushing your slick up the seam of your pussy but neglecting your clit means it’s hard to concentrate, “I touched myself, thinking of you.” 
He stops dead in his tracks, pulling his face away from you, “When?” He demands. 
You turn your head to look at the clock behind you, “Probably two hours ago now.” 
He growls, gripping you tightly to his body, “You filthy girl,” You can do nothing but grin, “You touched your pussy whilst I was upstairs?” 
You nod, moving so you can press a kiss to his neck, “Show me.” He asks. 
There’s confusion on your face when you pull back, “You don’t need me, obviously, so show me how you touched yourself whilst I was slaving away upstairs.” 
He pushes you away from his body gently, and you’re going to turn around to walk somewhere to lie down and give him a show, but he’s stopping you, “Do it here,” He’s motioning his hand for you to stay in the kitchen, “Come on sweetheart, don’t keep me waitin’.” 
You take your place leant back against the kitchen counter, running your hand down your body before it dips into your shorts. Joel’s eyes are staring holes into your skin as your fingers dip to your seeping hole, you let your eyes flutter closed as you gather your slick on your fingers, bringing it up to circle your clit. This time when you want to moan, you don’t bite down on anything, moaning Joel’s name as loud as you please. 
When you open your eyes, fingers not letting up on pleasuring yourself, you can see him in a similar position to yours, palming himself through his jeans at the show you’re putting on, “Does it feel good, sweetheart?” He coos from across the kitchen, “Bet I’d make you feel even better, right?” 
“Oh god, Joel, please-” You gasp as you speed up the circles on your clit, “I want you to touch me.” 
He chuckles as he steps forward to meet you, trapping you against the kitchen island with an arm on either side of you. He’s pressing kisses behind your ear but is making no attempt to touch you past that. Fingers still firmly pressing against your clit, you grind your hips forward into his own, “Oh baby,” He whispers, “D’ya need some help?” You nod, “What d’ya want from me?” 
“Fingers-” You gasp out, “Put your fingers inside me.” 
He kisses your neck, using his hands to push your shorts from your legs, letting them drop to the floor, before he’s kicking at one of your ankles to push your legs further apart. Then, he’s sinking one of his deliciously thick fingers right into your seeping cunt, causing you to cry out. 
“It’s alright babygirl,” He chuckles against your skin, “Makin’ you feel good, right?”
He’s pulling his finger back out of your pussy before adding another one when he pushes them back in, “Can feel how tight you are, already, you gonna come for me?” 
“Fuck-” You exclaim when he’s curling his fingers up inside you whilst his mouth drags hot trails across your collarbone, “Don’t stop, please-” You beg, “So fucking close Joel.” 
“Good girl, show me how good I make you feel.” 
With the incessant rubbing you’re doing over your clit and the curve of Joel’s fingers inside you, you come undone. His name is almost shouted from your lips and you can feel his free hand on your waist, keeping you upright. On Saturday he’d worked you through the aftershocks, but not today, he’s pulling his fingers from your pussy, shoving them into your mouth and watching as you lick yourself off him. Then his tongue is back in your mouth and he's grinding his bulge against you whilst he laps up the taste of you on your mouth. 
“Fuck, you taste so good babygirl,” He’s whispering once he’s pulled away, “One day I’m gonna spread you out and spend hours with my head between your thighs.” 
Heat flushes through your body – you want to respond but you don’t have time. He’s turning you around and with a hand placed gently on the nape of your neck, he’s pushing you forward so your body is spread over the kitchen island. You can hear him unbuckling his belt behind you and you can’t quite believe this is about to happen. 
When you hear the material of his jeans hit the floor you swear you can feel yourself drip down the inside of your thigh, you’re that turned on. 
“I’m gonna fuck you sweetheart,” His body is towering behind yours as his hands take your hips and pull you back, “That okay?”
You nod and moan out a ‘yes please’ as he’s lining himself up behind you. You can feel the head of his cock sliding between your folds before Joel is sinking into you from behind. He’s slow because he knows it’s a tight fit, despite all your preparation the feeling of him stretching you is bordering on uncomfortable, but you just can’t get enough. He stills himself when he’s buried inside you to the hilt. You can hear his gasps and his heavy breathing behind you as he tries to calm himself down. 
“Fuckin’ Christ baby, you’re fuckin’ tight around my cock.” 
“Feel so full Joel,” You moan back at him, hands gripping at the kitchen island as he pulls back and thrusts himself back into you, “You’re so fucking big.” 
You can hear him chuckle as his hands grip tighter at your hips, you’re convinced you’re going to have finger shaped bruises there, “That’s right babygirl,” He pulls out once more and thrusts back into your tight heat with more force than before that has you crying out, “Look at you,” He praises, “All spread out in your daddy’s kitchen gettin’ fucked by his best friend.” 
It's filth but by God it’s doing the job, the way his voice is deeper, and his words are peppered with groans and gasps as he starts fucking you in earnest. You can feel your pussy clenching around him with each thrust, any feeling of discomfort long gone, replaced just with an intense feeling of fullness peppered with ecstasy. 
You feel a hand come back to the nape of your neck, travelling higher until it’s tangled in your hair, yanking you backwards so your back is arched. You can feel Joel’s hips snapping into your ass, the new arch of your back has his cock hitting a spot inside you that has spots blurring your vision. 
All you can do is chant his name and let moans drop from your lips as his pace picks up again. He’s turned your brain to mush, not that you’re complaining. If you could keep the both of you here forever, locked in this state of secret pleasure then you would. 
“Sweetheart,” He chokes out behind you, hand still wrapped in your hair, “I’m gonna cum.” 
“Yes Joel, please-” You cry out, “Please give it to me.” 
“So fuckin’ pretty sweetheart,” He groans behind you, “Beggin’ me for my cum like a good girl.” 
When he pulls himself fully from your pussy you almost cry in frustration until you feel the warmth of his cum spreading over the cheeks of your ass. You can hear him moaning your name, one hand still firmly gripping your hip, the other, you assume, fisting his cock. When you’re sure he’s finished you let your forehead drop to the cool countertop whilst you catch your breath. 
You’re vaguely aware of Joel pulling his jeans back on and the sound of the tap running behind you. The feeling of a warm cloth spreading across your ass as he cleans his spend off you. It’s almost robotic as he gathers you and turns you round, bending down to shimmy your shorts back up and over your hips. He even does the button up for you. 
“You okay?” He asks, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. 
You smile, exhaustion settling into your bones as he holds you, “Never better.” 
“Hope I wasn’t too rough sweetheart.” 
“I don’t mind,” You smirk, reaching up to press a kiss to his lips, “Want you to make me sore so whenever I move I remember this.” 
“You can’t be real babygirl,” He’s chuckling, “You keep sayin’ things like that and I’ll never leave.” 
You’re pulled from your post-coital bliss by the sound of a car door slamming out front. Your eyes widen and so do Joel’s. You quickly glance at the clock and realise he’s had you bent over the kitchen counter for far longer than you’d anticipated. 
“Fuckin’ hell,” He’s mumbling, making sure he kisses your lips firmly, “I gotta get outta here, but I’ll see you soon, okay?” 
“Okay.” You nod with a smile, you fucking hope so. 
He leaves with a squeeze of your hand, jogging to the door to grab his toolbox. You hear the door open and then he’s greeting your mother with a ‘Hello ma’am, good day?’ – you can just about hear your mother recounting her day to him and then asking him how the work in the attic went. 
“Went fine, still a fair bit to do so just let me know when y’all are going to be out again in the week and I’ll come back to finish up.” 
“Well, you know we work all week and I’m sure that one in there won’t mind a little banging about from you.” 
Oh if only you knew mom, if only you knew. 
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katabay · 3 months
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A SPY FOR A SPY
an informal AmRev sketch dump type of thing circling around some thoughts: Benjamin Tallmadge and the corpse of Nathan Hale (they never did recover Hale's corpse, so this is like. you know. symbolism. it's why Tallmadge isn't looking directly at the body, but oh something in you has changed. loss defines the outline, the shape. that body is going to be inside you forever), bad dreams with John Andre and something that looks like Nathan Hale, and the finally Tallmadge and Andre. they turned your friend into a martyr, Tallmadge, but before that, he was your friend, and that makes this personal.
there's a. triangle. happening between these three. a kind of ritual substitution. the absence of Hale's body demands a body in it's place, John Andre's fate was sealed the minute Nathan Hale died.
also, in the first one, Hale's feet are bound because that's my favorite awful detail from both the MacMonnies statue and the Pratt statue.
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(MacMonnies)
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(Pratt)
on the topic of Hale statues, what really fucks me up is that the MacMonnies rendition of Nathan Hale is. it's a hot statue. the posing suggests something almost provocative (in combination with the open collar of the shirt), but only because his arms have been tied behind him in a way that forces the position, so it turns vulnerable and voyeuristic. horrifying and delightful. I'm obsessed with it.
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bsky ⭐ pixiv ⭐ pillowfort ⭐ cohost ⭐ cara ⭐ ko-fi
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strwberri-milk · 4 months
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Hello! Saw your ask was open and thought I’d share a request idea. I was thinking about a reverse hurt/comfort for the Genshin men where they overhear a negative comment about themselves and worry their partner might agree with it. Maybe the comment comes from a friend or family member of the partner so it holds more weight than a random person’s comment.
My favorites are Kaeya, Zhongli, and Diluc but if you want to drop or substitute any characters that’s fine. Ideas for comments could be like they’re intimidating, too busy, secretive, even just generally kind of weird. It doesn’t have be deep angst, just a little doubt for their partner to reassure them about.
Hope this finds you well!
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Kaeya is fully aware of the rumours that surround him. He’s aware that some people think he’s some playboy extraordinaire, that some people think he’s got too many secrets, and some people still haven’t gotten over their initial suspicion ion of him from when he first got to Mondstat. Typically, none of it would bother him but it also might have to do with the fact that most people don’t make it a habit to tell him they feel some sort of way in person or around him.
When the two of you are on a date, he happens to overhear some other people sitting just close enough that you can hear them as well, but too far away for them to notice that Kaeya’s picked up on their conversation. He tries not to show that he can hear them but the look on your face tells him you know what’s happening and you’re hearing it as well. He just laughs it off and casually mentions that the two of you should head out now - it’s getting late after all and he’d hate for the two of you to be caught out while it’s dark.
You can tell immediately what’s happening and initially decide to let Kaeya get away with it. You don’t want to be overly aggressive if it’s something that’s bothering him too much but you also don’t want him to hide it from you just because he’s afraid of how you’ll react.
Quickly, you gather that he’s feeling a little insecure about himself by his desperate attempts to try and tell you something without actually telling you anything. He’s talking himself into circles, you trying to follow the threads of conversation as much as you could while piecing together what it is that he’s insecure about. You know he really values touch and since you can’t get him to stop talking you decide to lead him back to bed,
Without thinking, he curls himself into you as you pull him onto your sheets. He sighs happily at the feeling of your fingers combing through his hair. You quietly talk to him now, telling him that you love him no matter what and even if he doesn’t want to tell you everything about himself you’ll always trust him. Kaeya doesn’t realize how badly he needs to hear that until that very moment, nodding as he presses kisses against your throat as a silent thank you for your reassurance.
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Zhongli typically isn’t bothered by very much. He’s heard everything he’s needed to and he’s typically very secure in his own person. He’s never minded what people say about him but he’s also never really had anybody say anything particularly demeaning about him.
That’s why when he hears an off putting comment at work one day he’s not sure what to do about it. He doesn’t let it bother him too much but he does find himself thinking about it more than he expected to. You can tell he’s chewing on something when he comes home, sitting down at your table and deciding to directly ask you if you think he’s strange.
Your confusion settles nerves he didn’t even know he had and he chuckles a little, telling you that he heard someone say that to him today and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He tells you exactly what it was that they told him, you reassuring him that you don’t feel that way about him. He smiles at your kind words and thanks you for telling him so, feeling better already just with that brief conversation between the two of you.
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Diluc typically has a very positive relationship with most people. He’s young, handsome, rich, and charming as needed. Sure, he can come off as standoffish if people aren’t talking to him for business purposes but he knows how to talk sweetly to such an extent that it’d challenge Kaeya’s silver tongue if he decided to add casual flirting into the mix.
However, that also means some people feel as though he’s not to be trusted because of this. He knows that people might not like him because of all the dealings he has and how he can manipulate things to benefit him if needed but he also doesn’t care. Diluc would never do anything immoral, but he does have his own ways of doing things that may not be seen as conventional.
It takes a while for it to weigh on him but after one particularly rough day he comes home and simply lays his head in your lap. He’s not always good at verbalizing the issues he’s going through but you can tell when something’s bugging him because he just seeks out your presence silently.
You let him, not sure what else he wants but upon your request he mutters something about how some people have just been saying nasty things about him recently and he guesses it’s worse than he thought it initially was. You hum in understanding, cupping his face and telling him all of the things that you love about him. He takes it all in slowly, not wanting to interrupt you and feeling his chest warm at the affection you have for him.
It doesn’t take him long to feel his uncertainty dissipate, quietly thanking you for picking up on what he needed so well. You just bend down to press a kiss against his messy curls, cupping his face and telling him that he doesn’t have to thank you for you just simply loving him. You’d always be here for him, no matter what he thinks or what people say.
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Lover, Please Stay
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Astarion x F! Tav
(Pillow Talk part 2)
18+ complicated feelings, angst, jealousy, intimacy, talks of sex work, fingering (f!), oral (f!), forced orgasm (kinda), feral Astarion, tenderness
Tav keeping him at arms length, Astarion makes a plan to woo her back into his good graces. But his hunger, for her and her blood, proves distracting...
Masterlist, Part 1
-
True to her word, she was avoiding him.
Even leaving him at camp. He covered the sting like he always did.
"You doing all the work while I relax with a good book? Please, if you must twist my arm."
He hid the anxiety throttling him into a sultry smile. Waving goodbye to the retreating party with a wiggle of his fingers.
When they disappeared into the treeline, he turned with a scowl and pushed inside his tent. The hunger gnawing through him now in the forefront of his mind.
In avoiding him, she had inadvertently kept him from her neck.
Animal blood wasn't enough anymore. Sure technically it filled him, it did the job. But it was a meager substitution.
When her blood would burst into his mouth, it sent a crackling pleasure across the back of his skull. Sending fire in slow pulses as her blood pushed out into his veins. From his center ebbing out a warmth in rhythm to his swallowing. His cold body cracking apart with her molten river. It was a miracle he was able to stop that first night.
The bloodcall was a prickling hateful need, but the other need he felt towards her made him bristle more.
He couldn't stop thinking about the way they had crashed and smeared into each other. There was nothing practiced about it, nothing gained or lost. Just pulling mouths and pleading fingers and dizzy heat.
He felt his cock stir just from the memory and frowned.
This wouldn't do. He was too pent up, a dog in a kennel circling.
He would get back in her good graces, in one way or another.
When they had finally returned for the night, he feigned disinterest. Lounging back on a pillow outside of his tent, flicking the pages of one of his books with the tips of his fingers.
She wiggled out of her boots with adorable little grunts. Unlacing her bracers and beginning to lift up to the buckles on her breastplate.
"Here, let me." Gale stepped over, reaching for the buckles that sat on her sides.
"Oh! Thank you!" She chirped, lifting her arm to make way for his fingers, naturally let her hand fall on his shoulder.
"I guess it's only fair. You don't wear armor, so you have much less undressing to do." She hummed.
He saw the heat go to Gale's cheeks, clearing his throat.
"You know, I could continue to help you. In the future." He offered, a slight waver in his tone.
Astarion had stood before his mind had spoken to his feet. Striding over.
"Gale, dearest. You'll keep her here all night. Let faster fingers attend to our friend here."
Gale held his hands up in defeat good naturedly, but he saw a bite flash across his eyes.
A silent crackling energy passed between them.
"Our pale friend is right, I'd better return to the delectable meal I've been planning."
Gale stepped away, but not before squeezing her bicep, leaving a lingering touch there.
The wizard was lucky his blood was putrid.
Well, maybe he could still rip his throat out for fun.
As soon as Gale was out of earshot Tav sighed, speaking under her breath to him.
"Well, Gale wants to fuck me now too."
"Ah, you'll have to forgive the boy. I'm sure he hasn't seen such a ravishing creature before that dusty tower. Nothing but his hand and books."
Tav gasped, trying to kick him, but he slid away from her foot easily. His fingers snapping her buckles open with flourish.
"You're the devil." She chided, but he could see the smile on the corner of her lips.
"Devilishly handsome? I agree."
The last buckle free, he lifted the breastplate over her.
She moaned, rotating her shoulders in relief. Her undershirt sticking to her skin. The white fabric wet with her efforts.
He kept his eyes above collarbone with great effort. The outline of her full breasts in his peripheral.
"Thank you, my savior." She teased, sitting down to unbuckle from her shin guards.
He was hovering and she noticed, looking up at him expectantly.
"Darling, I couldn't help but wonder why you haven't been offering me your sweet neck."
She sat back up, hand resting on her thigh. Eyes searching his.
"Sorry, I didn't think you'd want to see me after the other night." She said plainly.
"But I guess I'm a service, after all." Said with impartial truth.
"Sure, here." She offered her wrist up to him.
He blinked, on the back foot again.
Like she had scooped into him and pulled the marrow of his person out. That uncanny ability to speak his thoughts through her mouth.
No, I'm the service. Not you, sweet girl.
"Let's wait, no reason to supp from you out in the open. With so many prying hungry eyes."
He trailed the backs of his fingers along the inside of her wrist as she lowered it.
"Meet me in my tent, okay?" He hushed, his voice coming out uncharacteristically soft.
"Of course, whatever you need." She smiled.
He felt like he needed to prove something to her, but what?
He rearranged the pillows for a third time. The candle lit canvas shroud of his tent draped in as much comfort as he could find. Or steal.
Blankets and plush pillows. Enchanted lights draped along the roof, a lavender candle burning on a plate.
He sighed, this was too much. He was being silly.
"May I come in?" She whispered outside of the closed flap.
"I'd like nothing more." He crooned, sitting as casually as he could manage.
She ducked in and blinked in surprise. Eyes trailing along.
"Wow, what's the occasion?" She started getting comfortable. Pulling the pins free from her hair and shaking it down her back. Leaving her shoes in a neat line at the entrance.
Something about seeing her like this again made his heart sing. That casual intimacy that he desired in the cradle of his tent.
She kneeled down across from him, pulling her collar away from her neck. Turning her head to the side, bending open for him.
He leaned forward and gathered her into his hands, burying his face in the curve of her shoulder. Breathing in.
She could feel his need, touching his arm uncertainly.
"Are you okay, Star?" She hushed.
He slid his hand down her back, his eyes closed. Fingers mapping her into his memory.
"Just- just give me a moment." His voice coming out gravelly.
"Do you want me to get undressed?" She whispered, and he nodded into the side of her neck.
She pulled her sleep shirt over her head, his hands only leaving her to toss it far in the corner.
Sat in only the underclothes hugging her hips, she waited patiently as his eyes drank her.
The spread of her hips dipping into her waist. The round full of her breast. The soft curve of her stomach. An oil painting come to life.
"You're very comfortable in the nude." He teased, trying to jumble his thoughts back into his slack head.
"It takes practice." She smiled. "People usually don't want to see the wares stored away."
He could feel the confusion strike his face.
"What do you mean by that, darling?"
"Oh, I figured the others would have gossiped by now. Huh, good for them."
She flourished down her body. "This used to go to the highest bidder."
His hands slowed, pulling away.
"You were a sex worker?"
"What makes you think I'm not still one?" She winked, and he felt a hard shock of sudden recognition in her mannerisms. This was his playing field.
"Tav..." He paused, trying to wrestle his thoughts into a carefully picked set of kind words. She didn't need to know that part of his past yet. He could stand to pretend to be at least somewhat competent for a while longer.
"I get if that turns you off. We can go back to just feeding if you want."
"Well, what do you want?" He leaned his head, looking at her. Dead heart phantom hammering.
She seemed to consider it. "I think I like you, and I want to be near you. In whatever way that means to you."
He leaned forward, sliding on knees to reach her.
He laced his arm around her back, their lips hovered across one another. Her breath tickling his lips.
Sliding his hand down her front, he held her eyes.
A collective breath held between them, only broken as his fingers dipped into her heat.
Her eyes fluttered shut, hips tilting forward.
He pressed his forehead to hers as she rocked into him, rubbing her clit with his thumb.
She tried to reach for his trousers. He huffed out a soft no and led her hands to drape over his neck.
He looked at her with lidded eyes, pulsing his long fingers into her molten heat. Curving and catching the spongy wall.
She squirmed, gripping onto his thighs. One single breath passed between them. Speaking in panting and soft moans.
He pushed her onto her back, sliding down. His mouth coming down to lick in long stripes above his fingers.
She shuddered, head falling back. Gasping out little cries for him.
All of her sounds, her arching movements, wrapping around his mind in a haze.
He ground his erection into the bunched blankets on the tent floor.
His arousal a warm rhythm inside his body for once. The practiced working of his mouth finally put to a worthy effort.
He twisted his tongue into her, slurping and suckling. Free hand holding her in place as her hips tried to escape.
"Fuck," She hissed, gripping his hair. Legs starting to shake around his ears.
He moaned low and deep into her. His cock throbbing, hips fucking into the blankets.
"Oh fuck, Astarion. I'm-" But she was already rising off of the blankets, head wrenched back.
He followed her up, gripping her ass.
She squeaked out a few rising cries then fell apart in his hands. Tremoring rising up through her body, rippling outwards from where his mouth was still pulsing. Her head lolled, little jolts from her cunt as the creamy slick of her spend met his tongue. Lapping it in greedily.
He gasped. It rocketed against his skull like her blood. He needed more.
He hooked her thighs over his shoulders and dove back into her. Hungry. Messy. Uncontrolled. Completely cutting off his breath. He didn't need it anyway.
Her eyes shot open, moaning out.
"Oh Gods," She whimpered, bracing herself next to her head. Holding on as he took her apart.
He felt crazed, his hunger for her blood and the slick he pulled from her one and the same. The sounds coming from his lapping obscene.
Closing his eyes, he growled. Fingernails biting down into her ass. Saliva and slick dripping down his jaw.
One more hard swirling pull on her clit and she was shuddering hard, a strained moan of curses flowing from her lips. Eyes rolling back in her skull like marbles.
He yanked her towards him in anticipation, fingers rubbing hard into her clit encouragingly.
Her second wave of creamy slick met his tongue, so sweet and rich. Lighting his skull up in streaks of pleasure.
He pulled his weeping cock from his leathers and stroked with his slick soaked hand. Once, twice, and he was gone. Spurting thick ropes under his body, whimpering out pulsing cries as the pleasure wrenched out of him.
He lapped at her as long as she would allow, eventually gently pushing his head back.
"Gods below, Star. That was... that was heaven." She gasped.
He murmured in agreement, head falling into the inside of her thigh. Fingers trailing the silk of her side, the arch of her ribcage.
"Do you want me to stay?" She hushed, scratching lightly along his scalp.
He moaned softly, nodding into her.
"Come here to me." She purred, pulling him up her body. Resting his head against her chest.
The beat of her heart a steady tranquil drum. Her arms and legs tangled in his. He puddled into her, both of her hands scratching in slow lines along his skull.
For the first time in a long time, he fell into a heavy sleep.
The night passing dreamless.
~
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