#life hit me like a dump truck

[eadrey-the-iptscray]

I wrote words in my WIP for the first time since August 😭

#life hit me like a dump truck #and then that dump truck caught fire #i miss writing for fun #a rare thing indeed update

[kennabeth]

you guys ever wake up evil

#im a little better now but i probably could have killed this morning tbh #my dog woke me up four times last night #i got up and my brothers had trashed the bathrooms so they desperately needed done before i left for work #i picked up my water bottle and the lid wasnt screwed on??? so it dumped everywhere #my dog couldnt wait for me to handle the water spill and peed on the floor #the trash bag i was carrying out broke #was about to pull out of the driveway and realized i left my phone in my room #and i was gonna have my tomato soup i didnt get to have Saturday today for lunch #and for some godforsaken reason there was bacon in it #what the FUCK #i have never had a 'woke up on the wrong side of the bed' day quite like this #and immediately upon clocking in got a call from some lady whose son's truck had been hit and she was just screaming at me #bc SHE had to file a claim and i couldnt for her #i almost lost my job bc of her (was gonna tell her to khs then go home) (only barely held it together) #if i hadnt just bought a doll yesterday i would be buying a doll rn to make life worth living #and i left said doll at home!!! i want her to be in my car so i can stare at her!!! #EVILEVILEVILEVULEVUL #says kenna

[pucksandpower]

Best Laid Plans

Carlos Sainz x Vasseur!Reader

Summary: you were just supposed to be a means to an end — a way for Carlos to get back at your father for dropping him — but the best laid plans often go awry and you quickly become so much more than that

Warnings: 18+ content and manipulation

Note: did I spend the whole day writing this to celebrate Carlos’ win? Maybe …

So much love to @struggling-with-drivers for always giving me the best ideas

The warm Portuguese sun beats down on Carlos as he strolls through the luxurious resort grounds, trying and failing to shake the anger simmering inside him.

How could Ferrari do this to him? After all he has given to the team over the past few seasons? To be so unceremoniously dumped for Lewis fucking Hamilton is a slap in the face he can barely comprehend.

He kicks at the pebbled path, hands jammed in his pockets, catching the eye of a young woman lounging by the pool up ahead. She gives him a warm smile that does strange things to his insides for a moment before he recognizes her — Y/N Vasseur.

The reality of who she is hits Carlos like a truck. The daughter of the team principal who betrayed him.

An idea begins to form in Carlos’ mind, a cruel little seed taking root. If Ferrari wants to play hardball, he can play harder. And what better way to get back at Fred than through his precious daughter?

Putting on his most charming grin, Carlos changes course to approach you. “Y/N, fancy running into you here,” he lies easily. “I didn’t realize you were vacationing at this resort too.”

You sit up, shielding your eyes against the sun’s glare. “Carlos! What a pleasant surprise.” Your smile is bright and genuine, setting off warning bells in the back of Carlos’ mind. He quickly silences them — this is just collateral damage.

“I was just getting ready for a dip. Care to join me?” You gesture towards the welcoming blue waters.

Carlos pretends to consider it for a moment. “You know what, I would love to.”

Stripping off his shirt, he can’t help but sneak glances at your swimsuit-clad figure as you slide into the pool, telling himself it’s just for show. You really are stunning though, he has to admit. This might not be so difficult after all.

“So what’s a beautiful young woman like yourself doing all alone at a place like this?” Carlos asks once he’s waded in beside you.

You let out a tinkling laugh, sweeping wet hair away from your face. “Taking a much needed break from real life, I suppose. My job can be … demanding at times.”

That piques Carlos’ interest — to be quite honest, he had just assumed you did nothing all day. “Oh? Do tell, I’m fascinated.”

With a bashful look, you launch into an explanation of your high-powered career that genuinely impresses Carlos despite himself. You’re whip-smart, articulate, and passionate about your work in a way he can relate to.

“Wow,” he finds himself saying once you’ve finished. “I don’t know why, but I wasn’t expecting that from you. Not that I’m judging a book by its cover or anything!” He adds quickly at your arched eyebrow.

You let out another of those bright laughs. “Don’t worry, I get that a lot. People see a privileged girl and make all sorts of assumptions.”

There’s a hint of bitterness underlying the lightness of your tone that Carlos picks up on all too well. He knows what it’s like to be looked down on and underestimated.

“For what it’s worth, I think what you do is really impressive,” he finds himself saying honestly. “And anyone who thinks less of you for it is a fool.”

The words seem to catch you off guard for a moment before your expression melts into a warm smile. “Why Carlos Sainz, I do believe you’re flirting with me.”

He grins back unrepentantly. “Is it working?”

You pretend to consider it for a moment before laughing again. “Maybe a little.”

The flirtatious back-and-forth continues as you both float lazily in the pool, Carlos quickly getting caught up in the effortless fun of it. You match him quip for quip, parry for parry, in a way he’s not used to from women. It’s exhilarating and unexpected.

In fact, he’s so caught up in your company that he nearly forgets his original intention entirely. Until a stray thought brings the memory crashing back down … you’re Fred Vasseur’s daughter.

The realization is like a bucket of cold water being upended over Carlos’ head. What is he doing? This woman hasn’t done anything to wrong him. Going after you just to get petty revenge on your father is ugly and uncalled for. He should just be the bigger man, swallow the insult Ferrari dealt him, and move on.

But then he thinks about the disrespect, the callousness of dumping him like dead weight after all he bled for the team. Perhaps a little payback is in order after all.

With a wicked grin, Carlos begins swimming slowly towards you, an unmistakable glint in his eye. You seem to pick up on it, cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “What’s that look for?”

“Just thinking,” he murmurs once he’s close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. “About how I could make this vacation even more … memorable.”

His heavy-lidded gaze drops to your lips for just a moment, but you catch it. You bite your lower lip unconsciously as heat blazes between you. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” Carlos all but purrs, reaching out to gently cup your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheekbone. You shiver despite the warmth of the day, eyelids fluttering. “If you’ll allow me?”

For a long stretch, you seem to be rendered speechless, pupils blown wide as you study his face intently. Then, so softly, “Yes.”

That’s all the permission Carlos needs before he’s crashing his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

The moment your lips meet his, it’s like a jolt of electricity courses through Carlos. He kisses you deeply, urgently, all thoughts of revenge or ill-intent evaporating from his mind. This is pure want, unbridled desire singing through his veins.

You return the kiss with equal fervor, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. Your mouth is warm, soft, pillowy — everything Carlos didn’t know he was craving until this very moment. He skims his hands over the slick curves of your body beneath the pool’s surface, marveling at the gasps and sighs he pulls from you with each exploratory touch.

When you finally break apart, you’re both panting heavily, faces flushed. Carlos drinks in the sight of you — hair tousled, lips swollen, and eyes dark with wanting. He’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“Carlos ...” You breathe his name like a prayer and something primal uncurls in his lower belly.

Instead of responding, he simply crushes his mouth to yours once more, walking you backward until your back gently hits the pool’s tiled edge. You let out a muffled moan as he settles between your parted thighs, the heated line of his body flush against yours.

One of his hands slides up over the soft skin of your ribs to cup your breast as you arch shamelessly into his touch. He drags his lips in hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your jaw and down the graceful column of your neck, relishing the way you keen beneath his attention.

“You feel so good, cariño,” he rumbles against the feverish skin just below your ear, punctuating the words with a deliberately slow roll of his hips that has you releasing a broken whimper. “So fucking perfect ...”

In this moment, with you writhing and mewling in his arms, Carlos has never been more grateful for his commitment to physical fitness. He knows he can keep this up all day if need be, ravishing you over and over until you’re a limp, sated puddle.

He runs his tongue in a scorching path up the side of your neck before returning to that sinful mouth, swallowing your desperate little moans hungrily. You cling to him as if he’s the only thing keeping you tethered, nails raking deliciously over his back and shoulders in a way that will surely leave marks. Carlos loves it, loves the proof of your passion painted on his skin in thin red lines.

Trailing his lips across the hinge of your jaw, he murmurs “Should we take this somewhere more private, princesa?”

You let out a shuddering breath, hips canting up instinctively to meet each roll of his. “God, yes ... please ...”

The sound of your needy whine sends a molten thrill straight to Carlos’ cock. He’s fully hard and aching for you, straining against his swim trunks with every second that passes. If possible, he wants you even more.

With a grunt of effort, he hooks his hands beneath your thighs and hikes your legs up around his waist in one swift motion. You let out a startled squeak that quickly dissolves into a moan as he shifts against you just right, creating delicious friction. Your arms wind around his neck as you bury your face in the curve where his neck meets his shoulder.

“You feel that, cariño?” Carlos rumbles darkly. “I can’t wait to be inside you. Stretching you so perfectly full of me. Will you be a good girl and take it? Every. Last. Inch?”

He emphasizes each of the final three words with a firm grind of his hips, rutting his rigid length against your clothed heat. Your back bows in response, mouth dropping open on a silent wail of pleasure. Carlos can feel your sticky wetness soaking through the thin material of your swimsuit bottoms and groans harshly.

“P-please ...” You keen, worrying his earlobe between your teeth. “I need you, Carlos. I need it so bad ...”

And just like that, the trance is broken. Carlos blinks, suddenly acutely aware that you’re grinding shamelessly against each other in the very public pool area of this high-end resort. A few pointed looks from other guests are enough to have a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.

Clearing his throat, he reluctantly pulls himself back and sets you on your feet. You let out a disappointed whimper that goes straight to his groin.

“P-perhaps we got a bit carried away, princesa,” Carlos huffs out a laugh, running a hand through his damp curls. “Why don’t we go somewhere a bit more … private to continue this?”

You bite your plump lower lip and Carlos has to resist the urge to lean forward and free it with his teeth. Nodding eagerly, you cast a look around before tugging his hand and heading for the exit, leaving a trail of water droplets in your wake.

Carlos follows eagerly, openly ogling the way your soaked swimsuit hugs every tantalizing curve. He’s never been so grateful for his decision to book one of the private beachfront villas at this resort — just a stone’s throw from where you’re leading him, he’ll finally be able to have you all to himself.

The thought has him semi-frantically fumbling for the keycard as you press urgent, open-mouthed kisses to any patch of bare skin you can find — his shoulder, his neck, the line of his jaw. By the time he gets the door open you’re both panting like you’ve run a marathon, desire thrumming white-hot through your veins.

The second you’re inside, Carlos has you pressed back against the door, forearms braced on either side of your head as he towers over you. For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crosses your features and he’s abruptly reminded of who you are.

“Are you sure about this?” He murmurs lowly, searching your eyes. “Because if we do this, I can promise you there’s no going back for me, cariño.”

You visibly swallow hard but then give a small, determined nod. “I want this, Carlos. I want you.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s capturing your lips in another searing, desperate kiss that has you melting against him. He walks you backward, never breaking contact until the backs of your legs hit the edge of the plush bed. With a growl, he hooks his hands beneath your thighs and hitches your legs around his hips once more.

You let out a breathless giggle as he tumbles you both down onto the soft cotton sheets, immediately rolling until he’s blanketed by the gorgeous expanse of your body. God, you’re even more stunning like this — hair fanned out in a tousled riot, cheeks flushed and lips swollen, eyes glazed with naked wanting.

Carlos takes a moment just to appreciate the view, raking his eyes over every inch he can see. A tremor goes through you beneath his weighty gaze and he smirks, leaning down to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of your slender throat.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, princesa,” he rumbles against your overheated skin. “How many times I’ve thought about having you just like this, spread out beneath me and begging for it ...”

The truth is, he hasn’t thought about it at all until this very day. But something about the way your breath hitches and your hips cant up instinctively at his words makes Carlos want to keep going.

“I’ve watched you, you know,” he lies smoothly, relishing the full-body shiver that wracks your frame. He nips along the graceful line of your collarbone and you whine softly in the back of your throat. “Couldn’t tear my eyes away whenever you were around. Imagining what delicious little sounds you might make with my cock buried inside you ...”

You moan then, loud and unabashed as you tug needily at his hair to bring his mouth back up to yours. Carlos chuckles darkly into the kiss, reveling in how utterly desperate he’s managed to make you for him so quickly.

“Is this what you want, princesa? You want me to fuck you?” He keeps his tone a low, filthy rasp against the plush of your lips. “Hard and deep and ruthless until you can’t remember anything but my name on your tongue?”

“Yes!” The word rushes out in an urgent whine and Carlos lets out a feral growl, slamming his hips firmly against yours in one rough grind that has your mouth dropping open on a broken cry of ecstasy.

Moving with purposeful efficiency, he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms and tugs them down over the swell of your hips and off completely. He shoves his own trunks down just far enough to free his throbbing length, giving it a few firm strokes to spread the pearling bead of precome over the swollen head.

With a low, heated look, Carlos hitches your legs over his shoulders and lines the blunt head of his cock up with your entrance. Just from this angle, he can see how slick and swollen you already are for him, glistening with arousal.

“Last chance, cariño,” he rumbles, rubbing himself in one deliciously torturous swipe through your folds and back again. You moan loudly, back bowing off the bed. “After this, I won’t be able to stop until you’re utterly ruined for anyone else’s touch ...”

The sound you make is practically inhuman, hand shooting out to grasp at his hip almost painfully hard. “Carlos … Carlos, please!”

Never one to deny such a desperate plea, Carlos braces one hand beside your head and slowly, inexorably begins to sink into your welcoming heat.

The tight, slick heat of your core enveloping Carlos inch by agonizing inch is utterly sublime. He has to grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut to keep from embarrassing himself right then and there. You’re impossibly tight, so perfectly molded to his shape — he’s never felt anything quite like it.

Beneath him, you keen softly as he stretches and fills you in one steady glide. Your fingernails bite crescent moons into the firm planes of his back as if you’ll fall apart if not anchored to him. Carlos rumbles his approval low in his chest at the sweet sting.

Once he’s fully sheathed, hips flush with yours, he pauses to simply bask in the feeling for a long moment. You feel so indescribably good wrapped around his throbbing length — hot and snug and fluttering subtly like your body can’t decide whether to grip him tighter or ease his way.

“Fuck, cariño ...” The words tear from Carlos’ throat in a ragged groan. “You feel incredible. So perfect for me.”

You whimper wordlessly in response, flexing and releasing your inner muscles in a way that has him seeing stars behind his eyelids. He captures your mouth in a filthy, demanding kiss to swallow your desperate little noises. It’s all he can do not to start pounding away with reckless abandon.

Pulling back slowly until just the thick head of his cock remains inside your clutching heat, Carlos locks eyes with you. Your pupils are blown wide, lips parted enticingly with each panting breath, the picture of wanton desire. He’s never seen anything so erotic in his life.

You must read the promise in his expression because suddenly you’re nodding frantically and chasing his retreating hips with a needy whine.

“Please, Carlos!” You keen desperately, nails scoring lines of fiery pleasure-pain down the rigid plane of his back. “I need it, I need you to-”

He doesn’t let you finish, snapping his hips forward in one hard thrust that buries him to the hilt. The broken cry that tears from your perfect lips goes straight to his dick.

Carlos repeats the harsh, punishing rhythm over and over, relishing the snug drag of your velvet walls against his aching cock. He soon has you a mewling, mindless mess beneath him, whining his name like a holy mantra with each powerful stroke.

“That’s it, princesa,” he rasps against the flushed curve of your neck, lips brushing saltily over your overheated skin. “Take it all for me. Every. Last. Fucking. Inch.”

As punctuation, he slams home with a sharp roll of his hips that has you keening shrilly and throwing your head back. You clutch at him desperately, meeting each heavy thrust in perfect counterpoint as he picks up the pace. The air is thick with the obscene sounds of skin sliding relentlessly together and your punched-out whimpers and moans.

Carlos has never felt so deliriously consumed by physicality before. It’s like his whole world has narrowed down to this moment, this connection of your joined bodies moving as one. He wants to burn the memory of how you feel, how you sound, how you taste, into his mind forever.

“Look at me,” he growls against the sweat-slick curve of your jaw when your eyes start to drift shut in ecstasy. “I wanna see those pretty eyes when you fall apart on my cock, princesa.”

You force your lids open with obvious effort, irises wild and hazy with lust. Carlos feels a molten surge of possessive desire lash through his veins at the sight. He slams into you with renewed fervor, savoring the high, desperate whine it punches from your parted lips.

“That’s it, cariño ... fuck, you’re exquisite like this.” His praise comes out in a ruined rasp but it seems to spur you on. Your nails dig bruising furrows into his lower back as you meet him thrust for bruising thrust.

Carlos can feel the telltale tightening and fluttering in your inner walls that signals your impending release like a vise grip around his cock. He wants nothing more than for you to shatter apart on his length. Slipping one hand between your sweat-slicked bodies, he finds the swollen bundle of nerves and rolls it firmly between calloused fingertips.

You release a strangled scream, back bowing off the mattress as white-hot pleasure spikes through you. “Carlos! Oh my god, Carlos, I’m … I can’t ...”

“Come for me, princesa,” Carlos encourages hoarsely against the side of your neck. He continues to work you over with nimble fingers in time with the punishing snap of his hips. “Let me feel you come apart all over my cock. Fucking soak it ...”

The guttural river of carnal filth coming from his lips seems to be the final straw, sending you crashing violently over the edge. You seize up around him with a shrill, sobbing wail, inner muscles clamping down in hot, pulsing waves. Carlos curses roughly, eyes squeezing shut against the unbelievable sensation of being massaged and milked for every drop.

If he thought the vice grip of your orgasm was intense, the aftermath is even more sublime. You lie utterly limp and boneless beneath him, still aflutter and fluttering in sweet, rhythmic clenches around his cock. He grits his jaw and fights to keep control, knowing he won’t last much longer buried in your intoxicating heat like this.

When you finally regain some coherency, eyes fluttering open with a dazed murmur of his name, Carlos pulls back slowly until just the throbbing crown remains inside. He intends to give you a brief respite before chasing his own thunderous release, but the moment he starts to withdraw your legs lock high around his hips.

“No ...” You keen, nails raking pleadingly down his back. The desperate craving in your tone very nearly undoes him. “Carlos, please. Don’t stop ...”

Growling low in his chest, Carlos immediately buries himself home once more — this time with a single, powerful thrust that has your brows shooting up as the air rushes from your lungs in a strangled cry. Clearly, you still need it as much as he does.

He fists one hand in the tousled hair at the nape of your neck, using the grip to tilt your head to one side as he lays a searing path of nips and sucking kisses along the exposed column. You shudder and whimper beneath him, utterly pliant and receptive to his claiming touches.

“Tell me what you want, cariño,” he rasps between rough drags of teeth over your thundering pulse point. He remains buried to the hilt, muscles bunched and quivering with the effort of holding himself rigid and still inside you. “Use your words and tell me.”

For a long moment, you seem too dazed and overwhelmed to reply. Then, in a small, wrecked voice, “I want … I want you to fuck me, Carlos. Please ...” Your eyes are glazed yet earnest, boring into his from beneath sooty lashes. “Don’t hold back. I need to feel you come too.”

A harsh groan is punched from Carlos’ lungs at your plea. Letting himself go and really taking you the way his body screams at him to would be heaven and hell all at once.

There’s likely no coming back from it — he’ll ruin you for anyone else’s touch, just as he warned. Once all is said and done, you’ll be irrevocably his in a way that frightens and exhilarates him to his core.

For a heart-stopping moment, he hesitates. And then you moan again — a thin, keening sound of utter desperation — and it’s like the last thread of Carlos’ control snaps completely.

“Hold on tight then, cariño ... because I won’t be able to stop.”

That’s the only warning he gives before pulling almost fully out and slamming back home in one brutal thrust that drives the air from your lungs on a high, shocked cry. He doesn’t let up from there — turning you over onto your belly and dragging your hips up onto his thighs so he can take you from behind in a series of ruthless, punishing strokes.

You quickly become an incoherent, sobbing mess beneath his onslaught, hands clawing uselessly at the sheets as he pounds into you again and again like he’s trying to split you apart. Carlos relishes the sharp smack of sweat-slick flesh on flesh, the strained crescendo of your hoarse wails, the drug-like delirium of being utterly surrounded and consumed by your scorching velvet grip.

It’s too much and not enough all at once. He clutches you flush against him, one big hand spread over your lower stomach like he could somehow force his cock impossibly deeper. The other winds around to toy and tug almost cruelly at your taut, reddened nipples — drawing out a stream of broken, overwhelmed whimpers.

Carlos has never felt more powerful. Body and mind, he owns you utterly in this moment. The thought is nearly enough to send him skating right over the edge into oblivion.

Instead, he jerks you up onto your knees fully so he can plunge into your straining, overworked sex at a different angle — this one hitting something deep inside that has you screaming hoarsely. He captures the wild thrash of your head in the curve of one sweat-slick bicep to bare the elegant line of your throat to his hungry mouth.

“Could you possibly have taken any more of me, princesa?” Carlos husks against the side of your neck, relishing the way it makes you tremble and clench even harder around his pistoning length. “You were made just to be split open on my cock ...”

You let out a garbled sound halfway between agreement and overwhelmed protest. Carlos snarls against your racing pulse, sucking a blatant mark of possession just below your jaw where everyone will be able to see before abruptly rolling you both back over.

He looms above you once more, grinding steadily into your core with deep, purposeful strokes that leave you writhing and wailing with over-stimulation. But Carlos isn’t finished yet — isn’t anywhere close to getting his fill.

“Look at me, cariño,” he commands in a guttural rasp, waiting with molten, heavy-lidded eyes until your lust-drunk stare meets his. “I need to see that pretty face when I come inside you ...”

His words seem to energize you somewhat, your eyes snapping sharper with renewed awareness.

And then, incredibly, you cunt flutters and grips down around him again in the unmistakable clutch of another orgasm ripping through you like a livewire. Carlos has to use every ounce of stamina and control not to follow you right over that blinding edge as you thrash and shriek beautifully beneath him.

By the time you come back down, cheeks flushed and chest heaving, Carlos is practically vibrating with the force of his impending release. His movements have taken on a desperate edge, hips snapping in erratic, forceful jabs as he chases that final blissful oblivion.

When your sated, velvety heat squeezes rhythmically one final time, Carlos throws his head back with his own roar of release. White-hot rapture spikes through every nerve ending as his balls tighten in excruciating bliss. His world narrows down to the exquisite pulsing of your sheathed depths rippling and drawing every last drop from him in endless, blistering waves.

It seems to stretch on forever, Carlos unable and unwilling to move from his impaled position even once the final shudders have wrung him dry. He simply remains blanketed over you, lungs heaving and muscles quaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

When he finally regains enough presence of mind to open his eyes and look down at you, the devotion burning in your spent, glowing expression makes his breath catch. For a long, fragile moment, it’s like you’re the only two people in the world.

Eventually, your eyes drift shut on a contented sigh and your body goes lax and pliant against the sheets once more. Carefully, Carlos eases out of your swollen, used entrance and rolls to collapse in a sweaty heap beside you. He immediately tugs you into his embrace, savoring the feeling of your damp, feverish skin pressed to his.

As you drift off to slumber coiled against his chest, Carlos presses a lingering, tender kiss to your crown and tightens his arms around you. He can feel the words pressing at his lips, straining to be released into the silence of this moment.

For now, he keeps them locked behind his teeth. But already he knows this isn’t simply lust or passion or a primal need for revenge that will fade with time. This was always meant to be more — something deeper …. everything Carlos never even realized he was missing until you stormed into his life in a whirlwind of smiles and secrets and blinding desire.

He’s in trouble now. Trouble of the very best kind.

***

Pale morning light filters in through the sheer curtains as Carlos blinks awake slowly. For a disoriented moment, he’s unsure of his surroundings — the rumpled white linens tangled around his naked body are certainly not what he’s used to waking up in.

Then the previous night’s events come rushing back in a heated wave. The pool … the frantic, desperate passion as he took you again and again until you were both hollowed out and sated … finally collapsing into a sweaty pile together. Carlos feels his chest tighten with a complicated swirl of emotions.

He turns his head on the pillow to find the source of the delicious warmth pressed along his side. And just like that, everything else falls away.

You’re tangled up with him still, one shapely leg hooked over his and an arm flung possessively across his torso. Loose riotous locks tickle Carlos’ skin where your face is half-buried in the curve of his neck.

He has to tamp down the overwhelming urge to pull you even closer, to wrap you in his arms and inhale the sweet, clean scent of your hair.

Like this — sleep-rumpled and soft in the morning’s buttery rays — you look almost unbearably lovely. An ache blossoms behind Carlos’ ribs as he studies the delicate fan of your lashes brushing flushed cheekbones and the gentle part of those full lips. Disheveled and without a stitch of make-up, you’re somehow even more breathtakingly beautiful.

Unconsciously, Carlos’ fingers find their way into your tangled tresses, lightly stroking and playing with the silken strands. You make a small, snuffling sound of contentment and burrow infinitesimally closer. He freezes, worried he’s disturbed your slumber, but your features remain smooth and serene.

He should get up. He should definitely get up and extract himself from this warm, addictive little bubble you’ve created before things go any further. This was only ever supposed to be a fling — a deliciously vindictive way to get back at your father for how he so callously cast Carlos aside.

Yet even as Carlos turns the thought over in his head, it rings hollow. What happened between you last night transcended anything so petty and cruel as revenge.

When he was sheathed so deeply inside you, your bodies moving in perfect sync like they were made for each other, Carlos felt something far more profound than just physical gratification. It was spiritual … cosmic, even, like every star in the universe had finally clicked into perfect alignment.

He should be disgusted with himself for having such saccharine notions. Carlos has always considered himself a realist — someone grounded in facts and figures, not given to romantic flights of fancy whatsoever. Yet here he is, helplessly mooning over a woman he barely knows all because of one night of incredible sex.

Except … Carlos is self-aware enough to recognize there was more to it than that, even if he can’t put words to the feeling yet. Some invisible cord has been lashed between you in a knot that feels unbreakable. Some intangible shift has occurred in his perspective that he can’t seem to walk back from.

Perhaps you sensed it too in the way you gazed at him afterwards — not just satiated, but glowing with a sort of wondering, naked adoration far too profound for a mere fuck. Carlos knows he should have been unnerved by the depth of emotion in your spent, happy features. And yet, he only felt it mirrored and compounded tenfold within himself.

With a frustrated huff, he tugs you closer and burrows his face into your hair, allowing your warm, comforting scent to soothe his wildly spiraling thoughts. You make another soft sound and your fingers twitch where they’re splayed over his ribs — reflexively trying to pull him in even tighter.

“What are you doing to me, princesa?” Carlos murmurs, low and graveled, against the crown of your head. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go at all ...”

Because the truth is, this was never meant to be anything more than a fleeting dalliance — an explosive joining of bodies and nothing more. But now that he’s had you, had this bone-deep connection to you, Carlos doesn’t think he can let it go so easily. The prospect of never again feeling you wrapped so perfectly around him in every sense of the word is abruptly gut-wrenchingly awful.

Which leaves him at an impasse. Because you … you are the daughter of the very man who unceremoniously discarded Carlos like an old rag after he gave everything to Ferrari. The offspring of the person who threw him away in a way that cut all the way to his core.

How could he possibly pursue anything real with you after that? It would be a horrific conflict of interests and constantly make things unbearably awkward, to say the very least. Not to mention Carlos has no idea if you even want more than just this one night of passion between you anyway. Perhaps to you he really was just an itch to scratch, a bout of impulsive lust to take the edge off before moving on.

The thought makes his stomach churn with jealousy so potent he has to physically swallow it back. Which … is not great, all things considered.

Tilting your head back with the lightest touch beneath your chin, Carlos studies your soft features searchingly. Perhaps if he stares hard enough, he’ll find some hint of deception or shallowness there. Some glaring evidence that this insane sense of yearning he feels is all one-sided — a misguided obsession brought on by the sort of euphoric sex one can never quite recapture once the high fades. He could use that as his cue to bow out now while you’re still tangled up together so prettily.

But even as he looks, really looks, all Carlos sees is the serene picture of a thoroughly satisfied, openly contented woman. There’s no shuttered gaze or pinched expression betraying any darker thoughts and feelings. Just blissed-out joy written in every relaxed line of those lovely features.

Something in Carlos’ chest cracks wide open at the realization that this is real for you too. You’re not just some meaningless one-off fling, but a woman who seems to have had her entire world upended in the same way his has been over the span of one incredible night.

“Carlos?” You murmur then, voice husky and slurred with the remnants of sleep as your lashes flutter open. “What’s wrong, mon beau?”

Your endearment sends a shockwave of tenderness and want pulsing through him straight to the roots. Carlos shakes his head minutely, winding one hand into your hair to hold you steady so he can simply … bask in your presence for a while.

“Nothing’s wrong, princesa,” he assures you lowly, thumb stroking gently over the arch of your cheekbone. “I just woke up early and got a little lost in my head for a bit there, that’s all.”

That small, secret smile he’s rapidly becoming addicted to tugs at your lips as your eyes rove languidly over his face. Your hand comes up to rest over his thundering heartbeat with surprising tenderness.

“Well then allow me to bring you back to the present. Right here with me.”

Your tone has taken on that rich sultriness from last night that shoots straight to his groin. Before Carlos can so much as draw breath to respond, you’re rising up to seal your mouth over his in a searingly passionate kiss.

He groans instantly, every atom of his being tuned to your frequency in a way that’s swiftly becoming terrifyingly natural. Carlos’ hands roam hungrily over your naked curves of their own volition, relearning each dip and swell through the silken glide of skin on skin.

When you break apart at last, you’re both thoroughly breathless and aroused. Carlos splays one big hand over the small of your back and simply holds you flush against him, savoring the feeling of your racing heart thundering in tandem with his own. He brushes kiss-swollen lips along the line of your jaw, prompting a delicious shiver.

“Don’t think for one second that I’ve had even a fraction of my fill of you yet, cariño,” he rasps against the feverish skin just below your ear, using his free hand to tug your head back so he can access the soft column of your throat. “You’ve addicted me beyond any chance of recovery now.”

Your breath hitches as he latches his mouth just above your thundering pulse point and sucks a blatant mark. Carlos revels in the needy whimpers spilling from your lips with each pass of his tongue over the tender patch of skin. He needs to mark you, claim you, render you unmistakable as his in every possible way.

“Carlos ...” You keen, back arching like a drawn bow as he continues trailing open-mouthed kisses down the slope of your neck and over your collarbones. “What are you saying?”

He pulls back to meet your heavy-lidded gaze, searching intently for permission to continue with what he suspects you’re asking. And there it is — desire and hope and invitation burning brightly in your soulful eyes, practically begging him to put words to this singular thing blazing between you.

Cupping your face in both hands, Carlos holds your rapt stare as he slowly, reverently presses a soft, lingering kiss to your slightly parted lips. You melt into him, one hand coming up to clutch desperately at his bicep.

“I’m saying,” he murmurs against the plush give of your pretty mouth. “That I can’t simply let this be the end, princesa. Not anymore. Not after experiencing what it feels like to be so exquisitely connected with someone in every possible way.”

The smile you give him in answer is as incandescent and warm as a living flame. You don’t attempt to contain the rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. Instead, you simply wind your arms around Carlos’ neck and pull him down into a molten kiss that somehow manages to convey every single infinite feeling ricocheting between your bodies.

He suddenly feels so overwhelmingly lucky in that moment. Lucky to have crossed paths with you by happenstance. Lucky that, by some miracle, he didn’t allow bitterness or pain or preconceived notions to blind him to your kindness and warmth and inherent goodness despite how this whole crazy thing started in his mind.

Because yes, you are the daughter of the man who turned his life and career upside down. But here, pressed against you, Carlos can feel the truth resonating through his bones — you are so much more than any of that.

And for the first time in his life, Carlos cannot fathom the idea of anything frightening him away.

***

The frantic Melbourne nightlife whirls and pulsates around Carlos in a dizzying kaleidoscope of neon lights and pounding basslines. Normally he would revel in the thrum of energy and excess — drinking in the atmosphere and feeding off the infectious exhilaration. But tonight, seated alone in the VIP lounge of one of the city’s most exclusive clubs, he finds his attention utterly undivided.

You stand out like a siren among the raucous crowd, every tilt of your hips and toss of your hair captivating Carlos completely.

He tracks the line of your body shamelessly as you sway and twist to the driving beat, that tantalizing little red dress riding up to reveal glimpses of toned, silky thighs that make his mouth water. A fine sheen of sweat glistens enticingly along your collarbones and in the hollow of your throat, no doubt making your overheated skin taste like salted caramel.

The urge to slide up behind you and drag his tongue along that slender, tempting slope is damn near overwhelming. He can vividly picture himself molding his larger frame against your softly undulating form, one hand spanning possessively across your lower belly to grind the rapidly stiffening ridge of his arousal against the lush swell of your rear.

He imagines precisely how you would react — arching back against him with a shuddering gasp, fingers threading into his hair to tug his mouth down upon yours in a frantic, needy kiss. How you would whimper and writhe against him, uncaring of the very public surroundings as desire rapidly whited everything else out ...

Almost as if sensing the scorching path of Carlos’ thoughts, you glance over your shoulder and catch his eye from beneath the veil of your lashes. That sly, inviting little smile immediately kicks his pulse into overdrive and lights a slow bloom of liquid heat unfurling in his lower belly.

With a crooked finger and a subtle uptilt of your chin you summon him to your side. And like the hopeless fool he is, Carlos rises instantly and crosses the small distance to enfold you in his arms from behind.

“Having fun out here without me, cariño?” He murmurs in your ear, lips brushing the sensitive shell so he feels the full-body shiver that wracks through you.

You lean back into his embrace, all soft curves and intoxicating jasmine scent. “I’m always having fun when I’m with you, Mr. Race Winner,” you sigh as your fingers trail delicately down the solid line of his biceps. “Even if we’re just sitting around doing nothing.”

The words are simple — honest and unguarded in a way that makes Carlos’ heart seize in his chest. For two people who came together in a wild collision of lust and passion, it’s moments like these that continually remind him of how much deeper your connection truly runs. Far beyond mere physicality into some soul-binding and unbreakable place.

You must sense the shift in his energy because you turn in his arms, expression questioning but so openly caring it nearly steals Carlos’ breath away. Tenderly, you cup his jaw and search his eyes.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours, hmm?”

He shakes his head minutely, leaning down to brush his lips across your forehead before pulling you snug against his chest. You settle easily into the circle of his arms like that’s the most natural place in the world, cheek pillowed over his steadily thrumming heart.

“Nothing to worry about, princesa,” Carlos assures you gruffly, stroking soothing circles over the warm bare skin of your back. “Just feeling … lucky, I suppose. To have found someone like you.”

The words seem to catch you off guard and you pull back slightly to study his face, mouth curved in that secretive little smile that always makes Carlos’ stomach swoop.

“Well, I certainly feel the luckiest woman on Earth,” you tease lightly, booping his nose in a playful gesture that somehow serves to implant roots deep in Carlos’ soul rather than make him roll his eyes.

Instead, he just gazes at you for a long, weighted moment, allowing himself to simply bask in your presence. In the soft beauties that first drew him in — that delicate blush that finds its way across your nose and cheekbones, the little crinkles that bloom when your smile widens to that mega-watt, face-splitting beam, and those soulful eyes that never fail to pin Carlos helplessly in place.

Then there are the quieter, more intimate details he’s gradually uncovered the deeper he delves into your connection. The barely-there laugh lines at the corners of your eyes when you’re feeling particularly pleased about something. The trick of tugging on your lower lip with your teeth when you’re aroused and trying not to show it. The subtle furrow that appears between your brows when you’re concentrating intently on something.

Carlos knows them all now like geography he was born to navigate.

Without conscious thought, he smooths his thumbs over your jaw and guides you up into a slow, thorough kiss that has both your pulses kicking into overdrive. You whine quietly into his mouth, winding your arms around his neck and arching against him in ways that instantaneously have him hard and aching. But Carlos doesn’t give in to the heated urgency coursing through his bloodstream.

Instead, he keeps the languid glide of his lips over yours unhurried and leisurely — savoring the sensation of you pliant and receptive beneath his seduction. You seem to shake off your initial fervor as well, melting further into the molten drag of his mouth claiming yours over and over.

This too is a geography Carlos has long since mastered. The precise angle he needs to tilt his head to slot your bodies effortlessly flush together. The soft, mewling noises he can coax out of you with carefully applied suction to your plush lower lip. The tiny shudders when he swipes his tongue in long, slick caresses over the roof of your mouth.

You’re practically vibrating with restraint by the time he finally releases your mouth with an obscene, wet pop. Your lips are swollen and glistening, glistening with shared wanting. Carlos hums deep in his chest and brushes the pad of his thumb over the slick fullness reverently.

“So impatient, cariño,” he chides with a wolfish grin that has your nipples visibly peaking beneath the thin lace bodice. “You know that’s not what I had in mind for tonight.”

With an adorable little pout, you wind your arms around his neck once more. “And what, pray tell, did you have in mind?”

A dozen filthy scenarios immediately clamor for attention in Carlos’ head. Having you right here, up against the wall of this secluded VIP area. Bending you over the sleek lines of one of the low leather couches. Finding a shadowed alcove and sinking to his knees before you, nosing aside those delicate strips of lace to ...

He banishes each carnal thought before it can take root and produce visible effect. Tangling his fingers through the soft tresses at the nape of your neck, Carlos brings your foreheads together with a soft smile.

“I thought we might enjoy a moonlight stroll along the beach actually,” he murmurs, relishing the way your disappointed huff ruffles against his skin. “Just you and me under the stars, far away from the noise and crowds for a while.”

You regard him dubiously for a moment before seeming to melt at whatever expression Carlos doesn’t realize he’s allowed to show through. As always, you give in far too easily to his indulgent whims.

With a soft, fond roll of your eyes, you press up on your toes to drop a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Of course, mon amour. Just you and me under the stars.”

Twenty minutes later finds you ambling hand in hand down a pristine stretch of beach in the Middle Park suburb. The warm, salty breeze gusts gently over your skin, carrying traces of coconut sunscreen and the briny musk of the sea. Foamy waves lap invitingly against the silvered sands as Carlos steers you towards a small, isolated cove.

He procures a large woven blanket from his bag and unfurls it in a clear spot before tugging you down into the plush nest of fabric. You immediately gravitate into his space — curling against his side and tucking yourself beneath his arm like that’s where you were always meant to fit. For Carlos’ part, he cherishes the easy affection and careless intimacy of the simple gesture more than you’ll ever know.

You spend what could be minutes or hours like that — exchanging lazy kisses and sipping from a shared bottle of wine as the moon rises ever higher overhead. After a while, Carlos sprawls onto his back and you quickly drape yourself half-atop him so he can leisurely card his fingers through your windswept tresses.

The soft, steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear combined with the soothing sounds of the lapping tide soon have your eyelids drooping. Carlos has never felt so at peace — this sublime bubble with you the single point around which the rest of the universe spins, perfectly in balance.

“Hey,” you mumble against the warm, sleep-rumpled fabric of his shirt. “Aren’t you the one always saying we should be living in the present?”

He huffs a quiet laugh, stroking one hand down the dip of your spine to rest possessively at the base. “What brings that up all of a sudden?”

You shift enough to look up at him through your lashes, eyes molten with a familiar heat that shivers down Carlos’ spine.

“I’m just wondering what’s got you stuck in your head so often these days,” you counter smoothly, punctuating the observation by swinging one leg over his hips so you can settle atop him fully, careful not to disturb his still-tender stitches. “We’ve barely been able to share … intimate moments at all the last month or so.”

Carlos sucks in a sharp breath as your weight settles over the rapidly stiffening ridge of his arousal. His hands find your hips of their own volition, squeezing reflexively as you begin moving atop him in a slow, undulating rhythm.

“Perhaps I’ve been overtly romantic,” he allows through gritted teeth, letting his head thunk back against the blanket as desire rapidly thrums through his veins. “Missing out on more … physical expressions of passion just because I wanted to remind both of us that this is built on so much more than lust.”

You hum thoughtfully, sitting up fully and swaying atop him in a way that has Carlos rapidly losing his tenuous grasp on reality beyond this blissful patch of the world containing just the two of you. He’s fully hard and straining against the loose linen of his slacks within moments.

“Then maybe we should do something about that right now,” you breathe huskily, arching your back in an inhumanly graceful roll that leaves Carlos’ mouth dry as the Sahara. His hands track helplessly up the delicious curves of your waist, bunching the delicate material of your dress around your hips.

He sits up to meet you so suddenly your foreheads nearly crack together. You release a breathless giggle that Carlos hungrily swallows with his lips, trapping you in a searing kiss filled with all the smoldering hunger he’s been studiously keeping banked for weeks now.

Mindlessly, he chases the taste of you over and over — salty and sweet and everything he’s been desperately starving himself for. His fingers fumble at the tie closures along your ribs until the bodice finally falls away, baring your breasts to his gaze and seeking hands.

You gasp softly into the heated seal of his mouth when Carlos’ calloused palms close over your soft, pliant flesh. He cups and kneads with reverent, possessive strokes that have you quickly arching your chest further into his touch and throwing your head back on a wanton moan.

“Carlos ...” You breathe his name like a prayer, riding his lap with increasing urgency and bringing your mouths back together in a clash of teeth and tongues. Your fingers slide up beneath the hem of his shirt to map the shifting planes of his abdomen, nails raking over the taut, quivering muscles. “Don’t hold back with me any longer. Not tonight … need to feel all of you.”

A shudder wracks Carlos’ entire frame at your breathy plea. He knows you’re right, can feel that same desperate yearning driving you magnified inside himself. Every cell of his body is vibrating with the need to take you fully — heart, mind, and body aligning in euphoric harmony after so many weeks of well meaning denial.

Seizing your hips in a bruising grip, Carlos surges to his feet and simply holds you against him with easy strength. Your legs immediately wind around his waist as you giggle deliriously against his lips.

“Is this what you want, princesa?” He murmurs lowly, swaying subtly to grind his straining need over the lush juncture of your thighs in counterpoint. “For me to finally have my way with you the way we’ve both been craving?”

“Yes,” you hiss out through clenched teeth, back arching as Carlos nips and sucks a path down the slender column of your neck. “God, yes, Carlos. Will you just fuck me already? Here on the sand and beneath the open sky like something out of one of those romance novels you pretend not to love.”

The easy teasing breaks through whatever lingering threads of Carlos’ control were still intact and he growls low in his chest. In one deft motion, he divests you both of the rest of your clothes and spreads you out on the blanket before him in all your unabashed glory. His gaze tracks over your form hungrily, drinking in every dip and swell as you watch him with dark, wanting eyes.

“Princesa ...” Carlos breathes, gratified to see his own desire and reverent longing reflected back at him tenfold in your heated stare. “No more waiting, no more teasing.”

His meaning is clear even without the punctuation of sinking down to settle fully over your smaller form, blanketing you with his weight and forcing your thighs apart to cradle his hips. You immediately writhe beneath him, winding limber arms and legs around him in a vice grip that sears every point of contact between you.

“Carlos, mon cœur ...” You keen breathily into the scant space separating your lips, every word punched from you in counterpoint to the sensual roll of his hips grinding his arousal through your slick folds. “Please. I need you. Need to feel you all around me again after so long.”

He crushes his mouth to yours in answer, tongue instantly delving deep to taste the exquisite velvet heat of you. You clutch him closer even as Carlos shifts his weight to one forearm so his other hand can roam freely over every inch of bare, pebbled skin he can reach. When his calloused palm finally finds your breast and gives a rough squeeze, you shudder and cry out into his waiting lips.

There’s no more waiting after that. Carlos sheaths himself in one powerful, purposeful thrust that buries him to the hilt and your gasp dissolves into a broken moan. He stills for the briefest of moments, just reveling in the unbearably tight clutch of your molten sheath, every nerve ending alight and thrumming. Then he slowly withdraws until just the swollen head remains inside before immediately surging forward once more.

Your nails score lines of liquid fire down his back at the first deep, dragging stroke. But Carlos barely notices the delicious sting. He’s utterly consumed by the feeling of finally being surrounded by you again — hot, snug, and so utterly perfect. Every sound and shudder and arch of your form against his own is like the sweetest plea washing over him.

He sets a demanding pace, relentlessly pounding into you from that first jarring thrust onward. The only sounds are your mingled cries and the wet, obscene smack of flesh on flesh echoing out over the lapping ocean waves. Carlos wants to make sure there’s no doubt in your mind how much he’s craved every inch of you.

“There’s my good girl,” he rasps hotly against the bullet-hard peak of your nipple before laving it soothingly with his tongue. You release a strangled cry, back bowing sharply off the blanket as you clench down on him in rippling, vice-like pulses. “Fuck … taking me just how you were made to. So damn perfect, cariño.”

Your garbled whimpers and keens of his name drive Carlos to new levels of feverish intensity with each hitching breath. He snakes an arm beneath your sweat-slick lower back to position your hips at a slightly higher angle, seating himself even more deeply inside.

Every purposeful thrust now grinds against that tender cluster of nerves in a way that quickly has your eyes rolling back. You go boneless and whimpering, allowing Carlos to manhandle and use your plaint and plush form in whatever way he craves.

Pressure rapidly mounts within Carlos like an incoming tidal wave as your inner walls begin fluttering around him in telltale pulses. He can feel his own imminent release building in tandem at the base of his spine, that familiar molten curl of pleasure threatening to crest.

“That’s it, princesa,” he grits out raggedly against the sweat-slick arch of your throat. He slides the hand not anchoring your hips down to toy with the engorged pearl at your apex — drawing out a stream of sobbing wails. “Take what’s yours. Fucking milk me with that greedy little cunt. You were made for this cock, made to be split open and ruined on it over and over until you’ve got no idea where you end and I begin.”

The filthy words seems to be your undoing. With a sobbing cry of Carlos’ name, you seize up — inner walls rippling and convulsing like they’re taking him for everything he’s worth. Carlos hardens his jaw and summons the last threads of his control to keep himself from shattering apart at the very first fluttering pulse.

As the shattering waves of your release gradually crest and ebb, Carlos chases them down with powerful thrusts designed to prolong and intensify every aftershock. You writhe and whimper beneath him in overstimulated pleasure, rapidly going boneless and sated.

That’s when he finally surrenders to the smoldering inferno in his belly, hips snapping forward in a few final, erratic strokes before Carlos throws back his head and allows his own orgasm to rip through him. White-hot euphoria explodes across every nerve ending as he empties himself in heavy, throbbing pulses deep inside your spasming core.

“Ah fuck … just like that, cariño,” he rasps out hoarsely, grinding himself as deeply inside you as physically possible and simply shuddering through each exquisite contraction. “Taking every last fucking drop of me right where you were made for it ...”

Utterly spent, Carlos collapses forward with the last dregs of his stamina — just barely managing to catch himself on shaking forearms so he doesn’t crush you beneath his weight. You immediately latch onto him, peppering his flushed face with sweet kisses.

For several long moments, you simply hold each other through the aftershocks, chests heaving and bodies trembling. Carlos has never felt more peaceful or completely at ease in his entire life. His every sense is utterly surrounded and suffused by you in the most blissful of ways.

When his lashes finally flutter open, the first thing he sees is your adoring smile glowing up at him in the moonlight. It nearly steals what little breath remains in his lungs.

“Hi,” you murmur shyly. Carlos huffs out a breathless chuckle and tugs you even closer until your overwarm bodies are aligned from navel to sternum.

“Hi yourself, princesa,” he replies, just as softly against your lips before sinking into another deep, leisurely kiss that tastes equal parts salt and sex and forever.

When you part again, your eyes are sparkling with so much uncomplicated happiness that Carlos nearly melts into a useless puddle on the spot. He’s drowning and he’s never felt more gloriously unmoored.

“I love you, y’know? Like … down to the depths of my soul,” your fingers trail over the sharp jaw and cheekbones you now know better than your own.

The words should terrify Carlos with their intensity and implication. Instead, they simply roll through him in a cresting wave of overwhelming tenderness and clarity.

Of course he loves you. How could he not, when his existence now seems to revolve around your presence as the only fixed point in a dizzying orbit?

So rather than balk or deflect or shove those emotions back down, Carlos allows every infinite but of love and adoration and soul-deep need to shine through unfettered. He cradles your face between his palms and simply stares, committing every minuscule detail of this moment to memory before leaning down to brush his lips over yours in the sweetest, most loaded caress.

“I love you too, princesa,” he murmurs the words directly into your mouth like a sacrament. “With every fiber of my being. You are my everything.”

You tug him down into a heated, clinging embrace, holding him like you never intend to let go.

And at last, Carlos knows without a shadow of doubt that he never will either

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #carlos sainz #cs55 #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x y/n #scuderia ferrari #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz drabble

[swxxtsxcchxrine]

I feel like i need more emphasis on Miguel's level of nasty because he is just messy. point blank period. imagine he's got you on all fours, your face is stuffed into the sheets of your shared bed, he has your arse in the air all the while his face is stuffed right in your pussy. he's sucking and slurping on your cunt from the back because he knows you like it. maybe too much. one hand is laying comfortably on your bum cheek while the other holds your hands in place on the small of your back to diminish any attempts you have to run away. not that you would anyways. his face moves up and down your slick slit, his tongue prodding at your tight hole. he groans in satisfaction as you push your hips into his face and cry out a silly version of his name. his hand squeezes your cheek in affirmation "that's it, bonita," he praises. his words go straight to your sticky cunny as he slurps loud enough for the neighbours and their mothers to hear. he lifted his head momentarily just to spit on your puckered hole: watching as the fat glob slides down the globe of your arse, not before catching it with a finger and sliding it in. he feels you tight hole squeeze as he stares in awe. he lowers his head back onto your throbbing clit and starts suckling on it, drinking up your sweet juices in tandem. he shakes his head from side to side receiving a high pitched sob from you in return. he brings down his heavy hand to slap your soft bum, hard. he rubs the sore spot as his finger continues to work on your ass. he's moaning and groaning, whining and whimpering into your cunt that he loves too much. "Miguel...you have to stop, i need a break PLEASE!" you plead no avail. infact, he pushes another finger into your tight hole. you silently plead he's not hoping to stuff his hefty cock into your puckered hole. it's already too overwhelming for you. he's still playing with your hot pussy while still at it with your rim. he removes his fingers from your asshole and watches it clench and unclench uncontrollably as your orgasm hits like a truck. he lewdly spreads your cheeks apart, mouth agape, watching your tight holes squeeze around empty air, waiting so patiently to be filled by his pretty, long, thick, heavy, pleasurable, delicious, tasty, mouth watering, eye rolling, name yelling, soul snatching, creaming and screaming, sobbing and rolling around the floor, toe curling, earth shattering, squirting fountains, mood lifting, dopamine giving, life changing, powerful thrust, pretty, dark brown tipped - remember nips match tips - veiny all over, a proper 8-9 inches, he's definitely a grower, he grows while he's inside of you so its the most delicious stretch everr, undeniably good, leg shaking, heart wrenching, name forgetting, drooling, mind dumbing, mind breaking, back arching COCK.

i'll glad be on my knees for THIS man. 🥴like im not even joking brooo ill do jumping jacks on the d just for him he can dump ALL the cum he wants in ME, i'll gladly be the mother of his children. i swear, ill be the perfect little wife for him. he wakes up in the morning to freshly made breakfast and coffee. his clothes are washed, dried and ironed to perfection. his shoes are clean and polished, his shower is already running at the perfect temp. he comes home from work? i'll great him with a fat kiss and a home cooked meal. the recliner is out the tv is on his favourite show, when he's getting ready for bed, its ready made, his clothes for tommorrow are out and im waiting for him in bed. i need him so bad he doesn't understand i'm so upset why isn't he real. like...who am i ever going to find thats gonna compare? will i ever find someone that compares, omg imagine if i don't...☠️☠️☠️☠️ see lemme not God forbid🙏🏾

🫨 (ignore that i just wanted to use the emoji ibr)

#smut #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x black reader #miguel x black reader smut #spidervere smut #spiderman smut

[querenciasturniolo]

strange ⮕ c.s.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: lots of inner monologue, awkwardness, swearing, corniness, she/her pronouns

summary: request

a/n: this was requested again by the lovely @rainsoakedphoenix!!! this was super fun, and i had the idea to write it from chris’ point of view (still second person pov), so hopefully it works 🤞🏻

(this fic has jokes written in it about “chris having a crush on matt” bc of how prominent the jokes are in the fandom, but it doesn’t solely revolve around those jokes)

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

The comments had been going on for ages, and Chris genuinely didn’t know how everyone found out.

the way chris looks at y/n in todays vlog ?

i never would have guessed the girl chris has been talking about is y/n, but honestly the last few vlogs have really swayed me

okay no, but how has this never occurred to me ? i would have thought she’d end up with matt

Sure, he’d always had a hard time hiding his emotions on his face, but surely the fans didn’t really know he had feelings for you. He’d tried to ignore all of the comments about it, until the edits started rolling in. Every other edit on his for you page was the way he looked at you when you weren’t looking, or the way he’d look away when you turned to face him with pink cheeks.

It was his fault, for letting it slip on a live that he had feelings for someone, and of course the fans started sleuthing. It wasn’t like he’d declared his love for you on the top of a building with a megaphone, but the swiftness in which the questioning comments turned into matter-of-fact statements on any vlog you were in or any photo dump you were included in had Chris realizing he really should learn to control his face.

“Have you seen this one?” Matt asked. Chris looked up from his phone and watched Matt’s screen. It was an edit, a few of the clips from Wednesday’s vlog showing how disgustingly enamored he looked with you. Chris groaned and flopped back on Matt’s bed. “Did you read the caption?” Matt asked, his voice sounding as if he was holding back a laugh.

Chris shook his head and mumbled a reply into the pillow, not even understanding himself as Matt read it out loud. “Chris really went from having a crush on Matt to having a crush on the girl equivalent.” Chris pulled the pillow off of his face and glared, Matt’s laughter spilling out of him as he pulled his phone back towards him.

“Don’t laugh at a joke about me having a crush on you, it’s fucking weird.” Chris grumbled. “And she isn’t even that much like you.”

Matt huffed and shrugged his shoulders. “Tell that to the countless comparison edits of the two of us on my for you page.” He retorted, Chris rolling his eyes and sitting up to throw the pillow in his direction. He stood, Matt glancing up from his phone with a frown. “Where are you going?”

He turned. “The living room, your presence is getting on my nerves.” He said, Matt scoffing and turning his attention back to his phone.

Of course he’d seen the comparison edits, how could he not? You were soft spoken, only occasionally getting loud enough when whatever you were talking about was important to you. You were incredibly observant, and never the first person to point something out. All of the fans had said you and Matt were one in the same, which made sense as to how comfortable Chris was around you almost immediately. But it was still odd that the fans said that, because to Chris, you were just…you, and he couldn’t help but catch feelings for you.

In all reality, it hit him like a truck, and it scared the shit out of him. One day, the four of you were hanging out, and then out of nowhere, he had a headache with how fast the realization hit him. Things were different after that, at least for him. It felt as though everything that came out of his mouth directed at you was awkward, and that you could see right through the facade he held up to keep his feelings from you unknown.

You’d continued to be yourself throughout everything, though it worried him that any time the jokes about Chris’ crush on you were brought up, you’d immediately blush and change the topic. He didn’t want to immediately think that you had feelings for him as well, but he also didn’t want to think you didn’t. He didn’t know what he wanted, truthfully. He wanted everything out in the open, but at the same time he didn’t.

Chris groaned and flopped forward on the couch, his groan being muffled by the couch cushions. He stayed like that for a while, ignoring the buzzing on his phone until he heard Nick walking down the stairs.

“Dude, Y/n’s been at the door for like five minutes, why the fuck didn’t you let her in?” He asked, not giving Chris a chance to answer before he descended the second staircase and opened the door. “Sorry about him, he’s in a mood or something.”

Chris heard your quiet reply and the sound of you and Nick climbing the stairs again. He still hadn’t moved from his position on the couch, even when he felt the cushion dip next to him.

“Everything alright?”

His heart rate spiked at the sound of your voice and he shrugged, though it didn’t work well. You laughed softly, and it felt like every nerve was on high alert. He finally pushed himself up and sat next to you, running a hand through his hair before meeting your eyes. You always had a look on your face, like you knew something was bothering him even though he hadn’t said anything.

“How do you do that?” He asked. You frowned.

“Do what?” You asked.

Chris sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “You always know when something is bugging me.” He said. You chuckled and shook your head, your eyebrows raising.

“Chris, I walked in and you were laying face down on the couch. It’s pretty obvious that something is bothering you.” You said, your voice light and teasing.

He blinked and sighed, putting his head in his hands. “Jesus, that was dumb, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s funny. One thing I can tell is that you want to talk to me about it, unless that’s just me being hopeful.” You said, Chris looking over at you. It was true, you were the only person he wanted to talk to about this. He nodded, and he couldn’t help but relax when you adjusted to face him completely, and just watched him patiently.

It took him longer than he was expecting. He usually could say anything without a problem, whether he messed up his words or not, but this was you. He’d never had a problem talking to you about how he was feeling before, but it was near impossible when it directly applied to you.

You hadn’t pushed him, which he was grateful for. You sat right in front of him and waited patiently, nodding your head in encouragement each time he was about to speak, but not reacting when he didn’t. He groaned and threw his head back.

“Jesus, why is this so hard?” Chris mumbled. You shook your head and rested your hand over his, lightly squeezing it.

“Chris, it’s okay. Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.” You said, Chris sighing and nodding his head.

He was silent for a few minutes, but eventually met your eyes and took a deep breath.

“Do you wanna, like, go out? On a date?” He asked. You blinked, your face heating up and your heart racing as you processed what he said.

“Like, for real? This isn’t just because of all of the comments?” You asked, Chris smiling shyly and shaking his head.

“Well, the fans were right. I mean, about me liking you.” He said, wringing his hands together in his lap to take attention away from them shaking.

You couldn’t help but smile at him for a moment, looking away when his eyes met yours.

“I didn’t know it was true.” You said, your voice almost a whisper.

Chris glanced over at you, his chest pounding when he realized you hadn’t answered him, and that you couldn’t look at him.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t feel the same. It’s fine, really.” He said, pushing himself off of the couch. He paused when your hand gripped his wrist, looking down to see you grinning up at him. You shook your head and stood, trying your best to keep your eyes on his. It was insane, how someone’s eyes could be so intimidating but so kind and full of love all at once.

“I’d love to, really.” You said, blush traveling from his neck to his face. He cleared his throat and nodded, trying his best to fight off the dorky smile on his face.

“Okay.” He said, his voice quiet.

You chuckled. “Okay.” You repeated awkwardly, Chris’ smile coming in full force. You stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, his eyes widening slightly when you dropped down to your heels. You smiled at him, entwining your fingers with his.

Your hand fit so well in his, like a puzzle piece. He watched as you looked down at your hands. He ran his thumb over the side of your hand, smiling at the way you looked up at him shyly. He frowned when your eyes lit up and you smiled at him, confusion clouding his face as you lightly bumped his shoulder with yours.

“So that’s why you’ve been acting so strange.”

#chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

[sunraies]

pls can you do prompt 4 “no don’t cry i hate it when you cry” i forgot to specify 🤭

That's ok, hun. Hope this is ok 😊 x

4. No, don't cry, I hate it when you cry

Prompt List

Warnings - best friend Rafe x Reader. Being cheated on. Heartbreak.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

"Yeah, Sarah. I'm checking on her now" Rafe said down the phone as his key turned in the front door lock. "Jesus, why do you have to be friends with my friend again? Don't you have enough with those little shits?"

Rafe Cameron had been your best friend since kindergarten. Ever since he stuck play doh in your hair, you punched him and he offered you a cookie at snack time as an apology. Sarah become a close friend after years spent at the Cameron household. The two bickered over you all the time, even after nearly 20 years of friendship.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever" Rafe continued bickering as he entered your living room "Just keep.... shit, I gotta call you back"

All around your living room, every surface was covered in takeout boxes and ice-cream tubs. While a heap of blankets were piled on the couch. The only way Rafe knew you were under there was the occasional movement.

"Fuckin hell, it's like a tornado hit a ice cream truck and took out a Chinese restaurant on the way" Rafe muttered "Hey, are you ok? Why have you been ignoring us? You alive under there?"

He poked the bundle of blankets with his shoe before crouching down.

"Sweets? What's going on?" He gently untangled the blankets to find your face. His heart sunk with you appeared, puffy eyed.

You huffed and slowly sat up, wiping sticking ice cream away from your mouth. "Brett, cheated on me" You admitted, before looking away from Rafe.

Your boyfriend of 2 years, who Rafe hated had cheated on you. That son of a...

"That son of a bitch" Rafe blurted out, clearly pissed off. "Please tell me you dumped his ass. Or better killed him, fucking bastard, I'll kill him myself. I'll kill his ghost"

You just nodded, and when your small smile turned wobbly, Rafe quickly bundled you up in his arms. Not caring that you had food on your cheek, ice cream in your hair, and clearly hadn't moved from the couch in days.

"Please- please don't say I told you so...." You muttered into his chest as tears began to form again.

"No, Baby." He held you tighter. Even if he had warned you about the scum bag, he'd never hit you while you were down. "No, don't cry. I hate it when you cry"

"I'm sorry." You sobbed. "I don't think.... I can't"

Finally, in your best friends arms. The boy who cared for you most of your life. You let it out, in gut-wrenching sobs. In the safety and comfort of his embrace. His heart breaking right beside yours. His heart that loved you, and was in love with you for so many years.

#rafe cameron #outer banks rafe #outerbanks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron angst

[asingleietsist]

I forgot to post this 😭 I'm sorry y'all, life hit me like a PHAT dump truck.

I'll be back to posting eventually, just hang in there-

#luigi #bowuigi #super mario bros #bowser x luigi #bowser #a green queen au #luigi fanart #illustration #my art <3

[jd07201990]

“Oh, come on Chuck! This’ll be my second time! You can’t keep forcing me to work another 40 years, just to make it to retirement and do it all again! It’s not yours or my fault that there aren’t enough young folk to take over our jobs! Hell, maybe if we paid a bit more, the few of them out there would apply!”

“It’s Lieutenant Roth, Billy. Now go change out of that equipment and take a shower. Whatever this remote does to strip away all those years, it sure does leave a young man ripe!”

“Don’t call me Billy! I haven’t been Billy in 30 years! Its Bill Damn it! And how am I supposed to explain this, again! to David?! You know he’s not into, well… this!”

“Put your shirt down Billy and quit your complaining. We’re doing something different this time, changing things up, trying something new. See, we couldn’t afford to pay higher wages all these years, because we’ve been stashing extra money away, for a new program. This remote can do a lot more than just wipe away years, Billy. The company has a whole app-store full of features, but they cost a hell of a lot. We only had enough for 2 new features, and we think it’ll really help solve this town’s aging population issue.”

“Wha… what the hell are you saying? What do you mean, something new?! Chuck, dude… you’re seriously starting to crack! What the fuck does any of this have to do with David?! And who is, “We”?!”

“I’m only going to tell you this once, son. It’s Lieutenant Roth. Now, I guess there’s no beating around the bush with you young-bloods. So I’ll get right to it. “We” is me, the Governor, and the Town Board. We investigated every possible fix, and it comes down to this. All the youth are moving out in droves, going to college, or fleeing to the city for excitement, leaving us aging folk to do the hard work around town. With the remote able to take years off a person, we’ve decided that all our current retirees, in every department, will be regressed, and the new feature we purchased will ensure you all follow your new, youthful instincts, providing us with a full generational bump in population.

You will be the hot-blooded virile stud you were way back in the day; you remember? Except this time, just as David isn’t attracted to this prime of your life look, YOU won’t be attracted to David, or any man for that matter. You see, we need all the help we can get, so with this little app, you’ll be chasing pretty women, and will certainly end up settling down, once one of them catches. Ah, by the look on your face, you know exactly what I mean.

Good, because you and the rest of the retirees are going to have your hands full, working these jobs getting paid just enough for a double-wide and a truck, leaving a trail of gals before you settle in with one, and have a whole mess of kids. "

“Ch… Lieutenant, sir… Wha… you’re insane dude! Fuckin’ totally cracked! You hear yourself! You can’t do this! I can’t be… I can’t chase… I don’t… don’t like…. Fuck… fuck dude… what the fuck are you doing?! Quit pointin’ that shit at me bro! My.. my head!”

“Don’t worry son, I’ll let you off the hook for all that mouthing off. It’s got to be rough having your brain completely flipped inside out, dumped out and filled with everything you need to be a, productive, member of society. Isn’t that right Billy?”

“Wha.. Oh, hey Lieutenant! So uh, is it ok if I head off to the showers and hit the road? Kind of a slow night huh sir? If it’d be alright, I want to go down to the Strip and hit the bar. The dudes and I figured we’d start the weekend early, ya know? Gotta get get some tail on lock before the storms hit. Thinkin’ I might run into Becka too, you know, from Thornton Stables? God she’d look real pretty, all knocked up good n’ proper!”

“Oh alright son. Go ahead, take the night off. But you’re on call. Got it! One or two beers, maybe a shot, take some cash and buy the lass one of those fruity drinks, and you treat her like a lady, young man. Got it?”

“Got it Dude! I mean Lieutenant! I’ll make a lady outa her yet! Thanks for the money too! Ya know how rough it is on the town’s wages! Although you and the Board seem to be doin’ alright. I hope I can get to where you are, Sir!”

“Don’t worry Billy, you’ve got a good 40 years or so to work your way up! Go have fun tonight!”

[hookedonhuge]

Lucky Shorts

This is a story about the luckiest day of your life.

It all started when you went to a rugby match which wasn’t your usual style as you had no interest in the sport. The people playing the sport on the other hand, well let’s just say they had bodies built to be watched by people like you.

If eyeing off the large men wrestling with each other wasn’t enough for you, then seeing one of the star players peel off their tight, sweaty shorts from their giant, bubble butt and huge, athletic legs and toss it into the crowd after the match certainly was. The icing on the cake was that those very same shorts landed in your hands. It was as if he knew just how desperately you wanted them.

As soon as you got home you went into your room and pressed those sweaty shorts into your face. You were in total bliss as you breathed in the intoxicating, ripe odours of the shorts, imagining that big, sweaty stud being in the room with you. You revelled in the fantasy of him smothering his stinky shorts into your nose, his face painted with a mix of pride and disgust as you got off on inhaling his potent musk.

“How pathetic,” you imagined him saying. “Not even the sweatiest, smelliest players on my team can handle my post-match stench. Yet, you love it.”

You had to try on those shorts. Even if they were going to be a bit big for your smaller frame, you needed to feel the damp fabric against your ass.

You took the shorts away from your nose, it wasn’t easy to say goodbye to the scent, and pulled them up over your black underwear. Huh, it was a tighter fit than you expected. The sweat-soaked material wrapped snugly around your butt and you could feel the moisture soak into your underwear. You pinched at the shorts and it was so skin tight that all you could feel was the heavier, wet underwear fabric beneath.

Wait, the shorts weren’t just skin tight, there were actually no shorts on you at all. Of course there were no shorts, you had been in your room in just your underwear the entire time. What were you doing again?

You aimlessly wandered around your house trying to think of what you were supposed to be doing. You eventually sat down on a seat in the living room, scratching your empty head in confusion.

“Bro, if I swung that way I’d definitely hit that ass up.” It was your roommate. He was straight as anything, and a total bro. He was staring at your butt; your big bubble butt. “Why do you always have to stick that massive thing out like that, you’re going to make me hard one day if you don’t be careful.”

“Are you sure it doesn’t make you hard already?” You joked, leaning your body forward and sticking out your dump truck ass a little further. “An ass like this is very popular with boys like you.” You loved teasing your straight roommate.

He took a cautious step forward then pinched his nose in disgust. “Your ass reeks bro, have you just come back from the gym?”

The gym, of course! That’s the thing you were planning on doing this whole time. You quickly got changed into your gym gear, throwing your black underwear on the floor of your room, and rushed out the door.

The gym felt like home to you. You couldn’t wait to lift up some weights and get your sweat on, and boy did you sweat. You were only on your first exercise and already a large sweat mark had formed under the band of your grey compression shorts.

As you continued your workout you kept getting sweatier and sweatier. It wasn’t long until your shorts were completely drenched. 

The best part were the slaps of encouragement your ass would receive from the gym bros. The slaps would make a satisfying squelch noise and then your bubble butt would jiggle like jelly. This was usually followed by a comment fawning over your dump truck ass or congratulating you about how sweaty and smelly you were (to the gym bros this was a sign of a good workout). To say you were getting a lot of attention was an understatement. You were enjoying every second of it too, even making sure to bend over and stick your butt out when one of your jacked fans walked past.

Once you finished your workout you headed straight home without showering. Why waste all of that beautiful sweat you worked so hard for?

When you arrived home you stumbled across a very fortunate surprise. It was your roommate, and he was on the floor of your room sniffing the sweaty black underwear that you left there.

“Now are you sure I don’t make you hard?” You said with the smuggest grin. He turned around to meet your gaze and he was in complete shock. His face turned bright red and he couldn’t get a single word out. “How pathetic.” You said, changing to a deeper and more condescending tone. “Not even the sweatiest, smelliest men in the gym can handle my post-workout stench. Yet, you love it.”

You lifted up your shirt to show him your spectacular body that glistened with sweat. “No point denying it, you're in love with me.” You were literally talking down to him. “And most of all, you’re in love with my sweaty body.”

Your roommate sprang up from the ground and began frantically licking the crevices of your hairy abs. You grabbed his head and pushed it into the damp abyss between your two amazing pecs. Moans of pure happiness reverberated into your chest, which only made you push his face in harder.

Once you felt he was done with your chest you shoved his body to the ground. “It’s time for the main course,” you said with a grin. You turned around so your massive butt was facing towards him. Your shorts were so drenched that sweat was dripping off them onto your housemate’s body.

“Yes please, I need a taste!” Your housemate begged.

You lowered your behemoth ass onto his face. Both cheeks spread around his face and touched the floor. His face was completely trapped in the dampest, rankest, nastiest, foulest cage imaginable. You couldn’t tell if he was screaming in joy or screaming for release but either way the vibrations felt amazing as they rippled through your cheeks. How lucky that he has a stinky, sweaty housemate who is willing to use his fat, pillowy butt to indulge his fantasies.

#muscle #muscle god #sweaty men #sweaty muscle #sweaty #muscle butt #dump truck #huge butt #big gym butt #male transformation #male tf #muscle tf #muscle transformation #reality change #ass expansion

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

After General Anesthesia

Alex Cabot x Casey Novak x fem!reader Warnings: hospital times, fluffity fluff, mentions of sex, poly representation so if you're not on board with that byeeeeee, some explicit language Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: You wake up in the hospital, groggy from the anesthesia, to two of the most beautiful women you've ever seen doting on you. Imagine your surprise when it turns out you're dating. Both of them.

Your ears and nose woke up before the rest of you. The beeping of various monitors, that sickly-clean alcohol smell. You knew before you’d opened your eyes that you were in a hospital. You’d spent too much time in hospitals with your brother not to know. You blinked against the fluorescent lights, wincing at a sudden, sharp pain in your leg.

Your head still felt fuzzy, and you didn’t remember why you were here. But your confused thoughts were interrupted as one of the most stunning  women you’d ever seen in your life rushed at you, kissing your face, cupping your cheeks, and grasping your fingers in hers.

“Honey, she’s awake!” Alex called to Casey, her glasses slipping down her nose as she smiled softly at you, worried hands fluttering over your face, your arms, your body.

Casey quickly occupied the space next to Alex, leaning down and holding the palm of your hand to her flushed face. “I swear to god, Y/N, if you ever scare us like that again…”

You were dreaming. You had to be dreaming. Because a hot woman fawning over you in a hospital bed was unbelievable enough. Two hot women?  That was the stuff of dreams, not reality. You had no idea who they were.

The doctors had told Casey and Alex to expect some temporary memory loss and confusion after the general anesthesia. They’d told you, too, but of course you didn’t remember.

Your words felt heavy as they fell out of your mouth, jumbled like marbles. “What’s going on?”

“You broke your ankle, sweetheart, remember?” Alex responded, scooting her chair closer to the bed so she could sit next to you and hold your hand. “But it went septic. You were very sick.”

“Yes, and you scared the hell out of me,” Casey finished, grasping your face and planting a firm kiss on your forehead before sitting down, too. She leaned over the bed railing to rest her head on your thigh, looking up at you.

You’d never felt so flustered and confused in your life. Two women. Two women holding your hand!? Touching you!?  But as confused as you were, all the questions in your brain were drowned out by one, single, all-consuming thought: so, so beautiful. You felt like you’d been hit head-on by a dump truck of hormones and emotions.

“You two…” you started, words slurring like you were drunk, “...are so pretty. Like, wow.”

They shared a confused glance as you continued to ramble.

“Please tell me you’re single?” you asked, trying to wink and blinking instead. “At least one of you?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Alex’s mouth, and Casey was barely holding in her laughter.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you said, holding up a hand and gesticulating wildly. “Let me try something. I’ve been working on this.”

Casey’s shoulders had started to shake with laughter, and Alex’s eyes sparkled with mirth.

You hit them with your very best finger guns. “Hey, girl. Are you a savings account? Because I’m accruing interest in you.”

At this, Alex and Casey burst out laughing, falling into one another, equal parts delighted by your post-surgery high and relieved that you were really and truly going to be okay.

“Wait! I’ve got more!” You waggled your eyebrows at Alex, and the way she looked at you, you knew–even in your doped-up, memory-loss state–that there was no need for pick-up lines here. She was already yours. Hook, line, and sinker. But since you had it prepped: “Hey, girl. It’s just you and me in the sheets tonight. The spreadsheets! Let’s budget, baby!”

Casey was laughing so hard she was snorting, and Alex was gingerly wiping tears from under eyes, trying to smudge her mascara. You felt like you were on cloud nine. If you could do nothing else in your life except make these two women laugh, you’d die happy.

“Come on,” you needled, smiling ear to ear. “Look at me, I’m adorable. I’m charming. You know you want to give me a chance.”

Alex coughed, trying to pull herself together, and Casey leaned down again, placing her chin on your leg and staring up at you lovingly.

“Y/N, you know we’re dating, right?”

Your eyebrows shot up and you stared at her. Her auburn hair that looked soft as the surface of water. Her eyes. Her body. “Me and you!? Are dating!?”

“No, we’re all dating,” Casey explained, gesturing between the three of you. “Me and you and Alex.”

You glanced at Alex to confirm and she nodded, smiling cheekily.

Your jaw dropped as you took in this new information. You put a hand on your head as if this was all just too much for you. And, in your current state, it kind of was.

“Me!?” you asked, glancing between them. “You’re… both of you!?”

They nodded, grinning and trying not to laugh.

“Holy shit,” you said, spurring another fit of laughter from the chairs next to your bed. “This is crazy!”

You sat and thought for a few minutes, mouth gaping.

“You alright, love?” Alex asked, running her thumb back and forth across your wrist.

You leaned toward them, as if to share a secret, then gasped sharply at the pain.

“Ow!”

“Jesus, Y/N! Lay back!” Casey complained, trying to sound stern but really just sounding worried. She stood and gently shoved your body back down into the pillows. “I think we broke her brain, Alex.”

“Psst!” you hissed at them, your impaired brain feeling inexplicably salty about being left out of their conversation.

“What, you dork!?” Casey exclaimed.

You squinted conspiratorially at them. “Do we… you know?...”

Casey and Alex swiveled their heads to look at each other, then collectively burst out laughing again.

“Oh, yeah,” Casey assured you.

“We sure do,” Alex added.

“All three!?”

They nodded at you, still chuckling.

“Wow. Jesus fucking Christ. Am I dreaming right now!?”

“Believe it or not, no,” Casey said, watching as your eyes fluttered between open and shut. You needed to sleep. She could tell.

She ran her thumb across your eyebrows and down the bridge of your nose, back and forth, back and forth. A surefire way to put you to sleep. Alex and Casey knew all your tricks.

You exhaled deeply, trying so hard to keep your eyes open.

“Go to sleep, baby,” Casey whispered lovingly. “When you wake up you’ll remember.”

You mumbled as you drifted between sleeping and waking. “I’m not tired. I can’t be tired, I have two girlfriends to take care of.”

Alex and Casey smiled at one another. Alex stood and wrapped her arms around Casey’s waist, planting a kiss on her cheek as they watched you fall asleep.

“Two girlfriends,” you continued, your words losing volume and speed. “The nicest, smartest, prettiest girlfriends. So pretty. So many boobs.”

“God, I wish we’d recorded this,” Casey whispered, placing a soft kiss on your cheek before leaning back in her chair.

Alex dropped her phone onto Casey’s lap, the screen showing an active voice recording.

Casey fist-pumped silently, pulling Alex down by the collar for a quick kiss.

“I love you,” Casey said, unlocking Alex’s phone to send herself the recording.

“I love you, too,” Alex chuckled. She foraged in her bag by the door before pulling her chair close to you, propping up a book with one hand and holding yours with the other. “I love our girl, Case.”

“She’s something else, isn’t she?” Casey observed, smiling softly and shaking her head at your drugged, sleeping form. “How’d we get so lucky?”

“Pure, dumb luck,” Alex decided, flipping a page and absentmindedly rubbing the back of your hand.

Casey stood and stretched, then slumped onto the sorry excuse for a couch in the corner of the room, kicking off her shoes.

“I’m exhausted,” she groaned, pulling off one sock and then the other. “It’s a good thing we weren’t both out of town this weekend. I was up all night with her before she finally agreed to go to the hospital. Stubborn asshole.”

“Reminds me of someone else I know.”

“Shut up, Alex,” Casey protested, grinning, before throwing a sock at her.

“Why don’t you sleep?” Alex suggested, ignoring the sock on the floor next to her. “Get some rest, honey. I’ll wake you when she’s up again.”

Casey nodded and folded her arms over her chest, letting herself drift off, snoring softly as she always did and always swore she didn’t.

Alex set down her book and looked at her two sleepy girls, knowing there wasn’t a thing in the world she wouldn’t do for you and Casey.

“So fucking lucky,” she whispered, drawing your hand to her lips to kiss your knuckles.

#casey novak #alex cabot #casey noak x alex cabot x reader #alex cabot x casey novak x reader #casey novak drabble #alex cabot drabble #casey novak one shot #alex cabot one shot #casey novak fluff #alex cabot fluff #svu #law and order svu #sickfic #polyamory #poly triad #throuple #poly representation

[seat-safety-switch]

When I heard that California was experiencing a huge dump of weather, I didn’t delay. I didn’t sit around, tut-tutting about those poor dears. No. I took action. I got a flight right to Los Angeles, walked past the huddled, terrified masses, and walked right to the rental counter. And I got something with full insurance.

You see, I grew up driving in the snow. Because I’m too poor or maybe too stupid to move away, I still do now. It sucks, and it holds up traffic, and you have to shovel a lot. You get used to it, though, especially after a winter of bullshit white stuff falling from the sky all the time and covering your perfectly good crapcan cars. You also get very good at driving in it, unless you’re everybody else on my commute.

We all think we live in a world of rules and mores, but when something like this happens, everything changes. The people who can wield power – the people who can seize power – become as gods. Knowing that I need to slow down a little bit before trying to turn the steering wheel on the highway would make me unstoppable, a singular silver beam of pure id through the crippled cityscape. Capable of anything.

The cops were powerless to stop me. What were they gonna do, chase me in their patrol cars? They’d never seen snow, either. Their pilot had never flown a helicopter in the snow before. I tested this theory immediately by finding the nearest Krispy Kreme and repeatedly ripping handbrake turns in the parking lot until the cops came running out, then fell and ate shit in the snow. And then, not for the last time in my life, I outran the cops in a 2021 Kia Optima.

I laughed maniacally as I merged onto the highway and barked out a couple front-drive fishtails. The traction control light blinked, screaming at me that what I was doing was Highly Unorthodox and may actually be Injurious To My Person. I punched the traction-control defeat button and laughed harder as the low-speed skids continued. On the side of the highway, I saw a garbage truck crashed, split in two, spilling its contents across a rich man’s lawn.

Then I was hit by a ‘01 Alero driven by some asshole doing ninety miles an hour in a Walmart parking lot on bald tires while smoking crystal meth out of some kind of homemade contraption involving two semi-truck turbochargers. I watched in awe as he continued through the parking lot, over a small hill, through a fence, and directly onto the highway upside down. I felt small. In that moment, only he was truly free.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#357

“Not finding much activity in there?  Didn’t think so.  I don’t know how many dicks you are going to find hanging out in the toilet there.  Not too many men up here alone, let alone men that are willing to slide their cocks under the partition there.  Don’t look surprised.  I’ve been driving trucks all my life.  I can spot a faggot hungry for a real man’s cock when I see him…. 

“You can stop looking for my semi; it ain’t up here.  No, I’m up here in a camper.  My wife and two sons are making their way down to the bottom.  They’ll be gone for the day.  There is no way I was going to even attempt it.  I’ve done it before many years ago.  It holds no premium.

“So I am stuck up here bored shitless.  The cell service up here is shit, so watching porn and jacking off is pointless.  You wanna come into my camper and take care of my needs?

“Good.  One thing you need to know is that when I pick up a faggot at one of the rest areas, I am picking up a faggot, not some gay boy.  Same thing’s going to happen here.  You are here to take care of my needs, not yours.  I’m up here alone for three to four more hours at least, but it will probably more like five or six.  I don’t need to have some faggot bailing after cumming in the first five minutes.  You got that?

“Faggot don’t look at me like that.  You don’t want me to smack you again, you better answer me with more respect.  Now I asked, ‘You got that?’

“Look, I ain’t your dad.  I already got two sons.  Address me as ‘Sir.’  One final time, you got that?

“Better.  This is my camper.  Hold on.  I need to get my rim seat from the back of the Silverado….  Yup, you are going to spend time getting close with my shithole. 

“Get inside and strip.  My family thinks I use this in my semi for when I have to take a dump when I’m out in the middle of nowhere, which is why we have it here.  It never gets used for that.  I use it on all the faggots I bring into my semi though.  

“Here, put these leather cuffs on….  Faggot, you will keep getting your faggot face slapped if you hesitate like that….  And that slap is for forgetting to thank me for slapping you in the first place.

“Good, now lay on the floor, wrists above your head.  Good.  The D-rings on the cuffs are big enough to take a rim seat leg through.  Like that.  So now, when I plant my big fat trucker ass on that seat, your hands are useless.  You won’t be able to play with your pecker.  That’s my toy now.  It’s amazing how a swat to the balls will keep a faggot’s tongue focused on my shithole.

“Look up at my fat ass and its crack.  That’s my Grand Canyon.  And just like my sons, you will be spending a few hours in it.  Get that tongue ready, cause here it comes.

“…I don’t feel a tongue….  Faggot! I will hit those balls twice as hard next time.  Of course, I’m not clean.  I took a dump in the stall next to you.  Didn’t you hear?  Typical of public restrooms, there was no toilet paper.  That’s when I saw your foot tapping.  I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to use your tongue.

“Something tells me these balls are going to be black and blue if not destroyed by the time I am done with you.  Which is it faggot?  Your balls or your tongue?...  Ahh, that feels good.”

[vktrsnclr]

It's Been A Long, Long Time (R13+)

Pairing: miguel o'hara x f reader

summary: your canon event was losing your family including your husband, Miguel and your daughter, Gabriella. Instead of Miguel, you became this Earth's Spider-woman.

word count: 900+

warning: depression, trauma dumping

characters: hobie brown, jessica drew, miguel o'hara, y/n

A/N: Hi! This'll be my first post in this account. I just love the plot and reality shifted into it and now I got sum tea for all of y'all. This is just a part of what happened in my DR, just added some details.

Exhausted from yet another grueling overtime shift at work, you arrive home craving to be greeted by the warm embrace of your husband. Instead, you find an empty home, with no signs of life or activity. It's been 4 years since they've passed.

The silence is deafening, and you can't help but feel a sense of emptiness wash over you. You managed to eat a fastfood take out dinner, take a bath, cry in the tub and then go to bed. You laid down and felt a tingling sensation in your brain.

It's your spidey-sense. You knew something bad is gonna happen but you just don't seem to care, your heart froze over the years. Mourning and grief is all you've ever known.

Still, you reached for the lamp and looked by the window in your apartment.

"Why can't they all just die?" You sighed coldly, raising an eyebrow.

Two men was fatally struck and got ran over by a truck. You notice that glitch again as the sirens fill the road, You went back into bed like nothing happened, still as empty as before. It's been a year since you stopped meddling with civilians, you didn't see a point in saving them.

As you drift off to sleep, a bright, glitchy hexagonal portal appeared into your room, interrupting your sleep. A 7 foot tall, muscular spider variant, another female variant and a spiderpunk variant appeared from the portal.

You pressed the arc reactor at the back of your neck and immediately changed into your spidersuit.

"Amor?" The tall variant asked softly. You recognized his voice immediately because he's the only one who calls you that. You started to tear up under the suit and asked yourself if you're only dreaming. Emotions rush back into your brain after a long time.

"Miguel?" You removed your mask.

"Amor mio!" He greeted you with an embrace, his squeezing hug felt real. You froze in place, completely shocked and confused.

"Is she?" Spiderpunk whispered at the lady.

"Yep. Just let him have his moment." She replied calmly.

"You're back." Your voice breaks as he removes his mask, revealing his watery eyes. He looked at the window for a moment and asked the spiderlady and spiderpunk to fix the 'canon disruption' outside.

"What's happening?"

"Amor, you left traces of canon disruptions for the whole year. Lyla, can you run it?" A small holographic display of a virtual assistant appeared next to him. She explained what canon events are and you ignoring your senses and not saving the neighborhood is a canon event that should be stopped.

"So you were monitoring me since then?" A punch of anger and confusion struck your chest.

"Mi vida, I'm not from here. I'm from another dimension." He explains, holding your hand. He's kneeling on your bed where you sat.

"Wow. So, you can do all this, visit me." You scoffed. He looks down, fidgeting his shaky fingers.

"You can access this dimension all this time but you never did." You have so many questions and you're walking back and forth, having a crisis while asking where he's been all this time. Those questions are left in the open, halted by a moment of silence.

"I lost Gabriella too." He sighs. You halted for a moment to face him. He's staring at the floor, inner brow raised, openly expressing his sadness and regret. His words hang in the air, the gravity of what he's just said hits you like a force of a bullet.

"I tried to live in a universe where I was dead and you're both alive..... but tragedy followed me everywhere.

When I found you and this universe, my hopes went up but I realized that I should probably leave you alone cause I got scared."

"Miggy..."

"It's better being a coward than watch you glitch away repeatedly." His grinned with a pair of watery eyes, trying to hold it back.

"Honey, I'm sorry. I didn't know." You placed your hand on his shoulders. Your touch provided him a sense of comfort and relief.

"I understand, but what you did here, almost causing a nexus event, It's gruesome, It's cold, That's no way to live." He sat next to you, looking directly at your dark hollowed eyes. He's not mad but rather concerned. He knows everything you did, ignoring the city, causing New York to be a hellhole and a safe haven for criminals.

"I know. I feel rotten since you've been gone. I was weak and I didn't know how to cope. I know I can never bring back their lives, I can't save them if I'm drowning but I'll accept the consequences of my actions."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, but this is the only way I can take you with me. I won't make you suffer any longer." He sat you down on the bed and kneeled in front of you, holding your hands in a loving manner.

"Wait.. am I dying? Are you.. are you a ghost?" You cupped his cheeks and lightly taps it, checking his body heat.

"No no no, I'll take you with me. To my universe." He let out a soft chuckle, taking your hand and planted kisses on it.

Your face lightens up, you didn't understand how that would happen but you're just grateful to be together with him. That's what you both longed for, finally having a chance to be together.

"Let's go home."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #spiderverse imagine #across the spiderverse #marvel #r13

[parmmykitty]

Everyone always talks about Leon's tiddies but no one ever mentions Wesker's. WESKER'S TITS FANS RISE UP! Albert is literally the perfect man. HE'S GOT A DUMP TRUCK AND DOUBLE Ds!!!

Albert Wesker x Pervert! Reader

🔞 MDNI Not really NSFW, but has sexual themes that I don't feel comfortable having minors read.

They're just too delectable. Every day they're always there; taunting me. So close yet so far away. Protected by the world's most advanced scientific marvel. Only those God himself deems worthy may touch.

I stare as Wesker as he starts getting ready for work. I'm not usually up this early but I won't complain. He already had pants on when I first woke up, so I missed the first two sights but thankfully he hasn't put on a shirt yet. He emerges from the closet with a shirt in his hands and when he moves to put it on I know that he's chosen the perfect one. His black turtleneck is always so tight on his and shows his pecks nicely. Even makes them more pronounced.

"What exactly are you staring at?" Wesker looks me in the eyes, but unfortunately I can't do the same for very long. I reach my hand out towards him in a sort of trance before its slapped away. Luckily he doesn't yet seem upset with me since he didn't hit me too hard.

"Oh you know... nothing much..." I continue to stare at his huge chest. They're just too perfect. They may not be as soft as a woman's but the sheer size of them is more than enough to make up for the small difference. In fact, it might make them better.

"My eyes are up here, darling. It's impolite not to look at them when we are talking." He crosses his arms over his chest which should be a genuine felony. Even wearing a shirt should be a crime; however, the one he's wearing now...

I look up into his eyes finally and see him smirking down at me. He always gets smug when I star at his tits; he knows they're absolutely perfect. "How am I supposed to look you in the eyes where you're dressed like a slut? Look at you!" I gesture to his chest, "Wearing a black tight turtleneck like a whore!" I get up off the bed and hug him, our height difference putting me directly between his tits.

"Excuse me? Are you insulting me? I suggest you choose your next words wisely", he says getting a little annoyed with me.

"Don't be like that. You know I love you and the sexy turtlenecks you love to wear. They just make your chest look so big", he frowns down at me, "but in a good way!" I rub my cheek into his chest and look up at him. "They're so nice and they look beautiful, but I don't want anyone else to look!" He sighs while looking down at me before putting his hand on my head and pushing me away "Nooooo!" I hold onto him tighter so he couldn't pry me off.

"I do believe you got your daily does of them enough last night. Now let go. I have work to do." He continues to gently move me. I try my best to fight him unwilling to let go. Life is too short to not have a face of Albert's tits.

"I won't let go! You can't separate me from my one true love. We belong together." I squish myself as close to him as I can forcing his hand to be stuck between me and his own chest.

"If you let go I can promise something better later." I look up at him to see if he is lying. He might be frowning down at me but I can see the faint blush on his cheeks.

"You promise?" He shakes his head exasperated but I know that he doesn't truly mean it. We've been dating long enough for me to know when he is actually annoyed with me.

"Yes. Now if you would." I let go of him immediately and move to lay back down in bed. As I get comfortable back in bed he goes back to getting ready. Its so early in the morning that even though I have a pretty nice view it doesn't stop me from starting to doze off.

As Wesker finishes getting ready he moves back over to the bed and gives me a kiss before leaving for work. I stare at his ass as he turns around in front of me. "I hate for you to go, but I love to watch you leave."

Albert immediately whisks around as fast as he could, "Hey!"

#albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #resident evil #wesker x reader

[slashhinginghasher]

No Such Thing As A Free Ride

I am going to rewrite The Hitcher with Soap and Ghost and you cannot stop me.

~

It's pissing it down out there.

Johnny can barely hear the radio over the sound of the rain, which has practically turned his windshield into a solid sheet of water. He's turned up the wipers on the rental car as fast as they can go, is half-afraid they'll go flying off, and they still can't keep up with the downpour. Isn't Texas supposed to be a desert? It sure had looked like it before the clouds rolled in, bringing night early and opening up with an unexpected fury. If he'd wanted to deal with this crap weather, he'd have stayed home in Scotland.

Well, no he wouldn't.

Life at home had been stifling as of late. Job was shite, flatmates were shite. Family on his arse to make something of himself. His girlfriend dumped him, claiming he "lacked direction", whatever the hell that meant. He turned in his nametag, cashed his last paycheck, and hopped on a plane across the pond, and fuck you all very much.

He's the only one on the road right now, at least as far as he can see. Which, granted, is hardly anything. He's tempted to pull over, wait the storm out on the side of the road, but he knows about flash floods. Drowning in the middle of the desert would just be embarrassing. Plus, he'd like to get his deposit back on the rental. He drives on at half the speed limit, white-knuckling the wheel and hoping he doesn't get mowed over by one of those fuck-off big trucks he's seen at every gas station.

He would've missed the figure entirely had he been going full speed: a sodden silhouette of a human being plodding along the side of the road. As it is, it takes a full second for the sight to process and for Johnny to slam on the brakes, nearly losing control of the car as it starts to hydroplane. Once he's come to a shaky stop, he checks the rearview mirror - that is definitely a person. Poor bastard must've run their car off the road when the storm hit.

Johnny puts the car in reverse and backs up, slowly so the stranger doesn't think he's trying to run them down. As soon as he pulls abreast of them, he throws open the passenger door so the interior light comes on.

"You need a lift, mate?" he calls, shouting nearly full volume to be heard over the rain.

The stranger is a man, fucking big bastard too, and Johnny feels a slight prickle of misgiving that he quickly shakes off. He's no stranger to the gym, and pretty scrappy in a fight if it comes down to it, so he figures he can defend himself if the guy turns out to be Ted Bundy.

He's starting to think it'll be a nonissue since the man hasn't said anything or even acknowledged Johnny, but then he ducks into the passenger seat and pulls the door shut behind him in one startlingly swift, silent movement.

The overhead light goes off with the door shut, and Johnny only has the faint glow of the dashboard to study the man he just invited into his space. He's got a dark jacket with the hood pulled up, and some kind of mask covering his face from the nose down. It must be uncomfortable, soaked through as he is, but he makes no move to take it off, even when Johnny reaches over to turn up the heat.

He seems even bigger in the confines of the car, swallowing up the space in a way that makes it harder for Johnny to breathe. He has to swallow a few times before he speaks.

"Which way you headed?" he asks.

The stranger stays silent, just staring out at the rain. Johnny's about to repeat himself when, in the space of a blink, the man turns to face him. He jumps at the sudden movement, heart in his throat for no good reason. The stranger is pale, a shock of blond hair plastered to his forehead over even blonder eyebrows. But what gets Johnny is his eyes. They're dark, so endlessly deep and dark against that light hair and the surrounding shadow of the hood, and Johnny feels like he's staring into the empty sockets of a skull.

"I'm getting your seats all wet," the stranger says.

His voice is deep, rough. A stone door grating shut over the mouth of the tomb.

And, even more surprisingly, British. Northern, from the sound of it, maybe around Manchester. Johnny tells himself the lurch in his stomach is from the excitement of meeting an unexpected neighbor this deep in the States.

"Um," he says. Clears his throat. "'S alright. It'll dry."

Brilliant conversation, John. Fantastic stuff.

"I'm Johnny, by the way." He feels immature and stupid the moment the nickname exits his mouth. "John. Mactavish."

A few beads of water drip off the stranger's hood, and Johnny's starting to shiver even though he's not the one that's soaked to the bone. He puts the car in drive and pulls back out onto the road, even though he still doesn't know what direction his passenger is heading. Anything is better than being swallowed up by the unfathomable depths of that gaze.

The radio's gone to static, so Johnny shuts it off. Just the road and the rain and his pulse in his ears and the black hole presence in the seat next to him.

The man fiddles about in the center console a bit, coming up with a cigarette lighter adapter Johnny had forgotten was there. He plugs it in and produces a damp carton of cigarettes from some inside coat pocket. Instead of pulling the mask down, he rolls it up from the bottom, revealing a strong chin and a wide mouth with a scar running through it. Johnny's own mouth feels dry as he watches from the corner of his eyes while the stranger taps a smoke free from the pack and places it between his lips.

"Best not do that in here," he blurts. "It's not my car."

The man acts as though he didn't hear him.

Johnny jumps when the cigarette lighter pops out. The stranger plucks it free, studies the glowing orange circle like it's the most interesting thing in the car. Then he cuts his gaze over to Johnny and presses it to the tip of his cigarette.

There's a faint sizzle as the damp paper lights up, and Johnny feels like he's burning up with it. His ma always said he had an overactive imagination, but he could swear the man next to him is thinking about pressing that ring of fire into flesh instead of paper.

The man takes a deep drag, then cracks the passenger window and blows the smoke in its general direction.

"Name's Ghost."

Johnny exhales, long and slow through his nose. Okay. The bloke's clearly had a shit day, just needed a hit of nicotine before he could be civil. That's okay. He nods like the man hasn't given him one of the most fucked up names he could have in this situation.

"So, what brings you all the way out here to the good old U.S. of A.?" Maybe if he can keep a conversation going, he'll stop feeling like he's made a terrible mistake.

Ghost just shrugs. Christ, he's a big fucker. His shoulders must be almost twice as broad as Johnny's, and Johnny's no scrawny little shrimp. Why is he thinking about his shoulders?

The rain is starting to ease up, but they're well past sundown and it's still dark as hell out there. The headlights catch a glint of something reflective. After a bit of squinting, Johnny can make out the shape of a car nose-first in a roadside ditch.

"That yours?"

They're quite a ways down the road from where he picked up Ghost. No wonder he was in a mood.

"Nah."

Johnny sits up a bit, surprised. What are the odds of him coming across two travelers stranded in the rain along the same stretch of road? The car definitely looks to be in rough shape, though. He doesn't really have room for another person in here, what with his bags and all, but he could give them some dry clothes, a bit of first aid, offer to send help back from the next town. He starts to slow down.

Ghost's hand clamps down on Johnny's thigh and presses his foot to the accelerator. Johnny tries to lift his foot, but it's like fighting against a mountain.

"What the hell?" he shouts. "Let go of me, you big bastard!"

The numbers on the speedometer are climbing alarmingly fast. Ghost's hand is burning hot even through the fabric of his gloves and Johnny's jeans and steamin' jesus no one's hands have a right to be that big. They shoot past the other car, moving far too quickly to see if there's anyone inside, and Ghost's grip on Johnny's leg is getting tighter.

They're going almost 100 mph now, and Johnny's getting ready to throw the emergency brake in desperation when Ghost suddenly lets go. Johnny eases off the gas, hits the brake as soon as they've slowed enough that it won't send the car into a tailspin. His thigh is cold, tingling. He whips around to glare at Ghost in righteous anger and not a little fear.

"What the fuck was that about, you arsehole? We could have crashed!" He's shaking now as the adrenaline starts to drop, and rakes a frantic hand through his hair. "Someone back there could've needed help!"

Ghost stares at him, implacable.

"Keep driving, Johnny."

He'll never be able to explain - to the cops or god or anyone else - why he listens.

"We need to get to town," he rambles aloud to himself as his brings them up to a safe and reasonable speed. "Tell them there's been a wreck and they need to send help."

Ghost tosses his cigarette butt out the window.

"Don't bother. It's too late for him."

Johnny's going to give himself whiplash with the number of times he's twisted his head to stare at the other man.

"What d'you mean, 'too late'? Did you see him earlier? Why didn't you say anything?"

Ghost doesn't answer. Johnny's starting to feel really uneasy.

"What the fuck does 'too late' mean, Ghost?!"

That gets his attention. There's a heat in Ghost's eyes that wasn't there before, like the heat of his hand on Johnny's thigh, or the heat of a cherry red ember.

"Too late means dead, Johnny." There's a soft huff from behind the mask that could maybe be mistaken for a laugh. "Bled out from a hole in the head."

It's probably not safe to have his eyes off the road for this long, but Johnny can't look away. It's instinct, the prey needing to know where the predator is at all times.

"How do you know?" he croaks.

Ghost's eyes are sparkling.

"'Cause I'm the one that gave it to him."

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost x soap #ghoap #cod #my writing #hitcher au

[andydrysdalerogers]

Cross-Checked ~ Chapter 1

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!. 

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world., 

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again? 

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; evil exes...

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Banners by me!

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 1: it's supposed to be my year - Andy 

Third Person POV 

The Red line is a good place to hide from the world. 

A dive bar that's only really known by locals and a perfect hideout for the local team, The Boston Bruins. This is where we can find the hero of our story. Or a broken heart reeling from the shock of a lifetime. The bartender puts the third glass of Glenlevet 12 in front of the broken man at the corner of his bar.  

Andy 

“You want something to eat Barber?” 

I shook my head. The idea of food just made me want to throw up. This must be the worst day of my life. Sitting at our local dive, all I wanted to do was to drink myself to sleep. Maybe then I'll wake up from this nightmare. Have you ever been stood up at the alter?  No? Lucky you. 

“Knew I’d find you here.” I looked over to my best friend and alternate captain Lukas Andrews. He signaled to Mike, the bartender, and pointed to my glass. “You ok?” 

“I'm great. Just perfect.” I pulled at the tie on the collar of my tux. “I mean I paid for an entire wedding and the down payment on a house, but my bride decided to fuck my team mate the night before our wedding and lucky me I overheard them arguing about it right before she was going walk down the aisle.” I slammed back my drink. “Oh, and she runs away with said teammate.” 

I signal for another. And dropped my head to the bar. “Andy maybe you should slow down?” Luke said. 

“Why? I don't want to feel Luke. I just want to numb the pain.” Can’t he see that I just want me heart to stop hurting.  I was betrayed by two people that I trusted tremendously and now have to deal with not just one heartbreak but two.  

“I know buddy but maybe you should sleep?”  

Luke’s a great best friend to have.  He always tries to take care of me and I’d do the same for him.  But right now, I don’t want to take care of myself. “No, we drink.” 

That's the last thing I remember. 

Please let me be dead.  

That could be the only explanation as to why I was in so much pain. The alternative is that its a massive hangover and that would suck worse. I cracked an eye and sunlight hit me like fucking a truck. Fuck, I’m alive and it was going to be a hell of a day. It took everything to get to the bathroom and throw up like I’m a goddamm teenager.  

I’m a 31-year-old professional hockey player. I don't get drunk anymore. 

At least I didn't before yesterday. And it hit me that the love of my life screwed one of my best friends and teammates the night before our wedding and I got listen to him beg her not to marry me. 

Fuck Fiona and fuck Craig Bailey. 

I wandered downstairs, the aroma of fresh coffee hitting me like water in the Sahara. This is why Luke is my best friend. Fully expecting to see him sitting at the island, I'm stunned when I see my other best friend and Luke's sister making breakfast. “Morning?” 

Leighton Andrews.  

If there was one girl I wish I could marry it would been her. I’ve known the Andrews siblings since Luke and I were in kindergarten. Hell, I've been around since Leia was just a sweet little baby. She was an annoying brat for most of my childhood. But then when we came home for Christmas our freshman year of college and every change. Leia was only 14 at the time but she grew up way more than that. She had always been short, taking after their mother but everything else had grown up. She had tits that were perfect, a banging ass that I wanted to feel in my hands. 

There was just one small problem. 

She's my best friend's sister. 

To call Luke overprotective would be the biggest understatement in the world. After their dad died in a freak accident, Luke took his job as “man of the house” very seriously. He made sure that his mom didn't feel lonely, and he made it his mission to protect his sister by any means necessary. 

As the dutiful best friend, I, of course, helped him in his mission to protect her. 

Did I have selfish reasons? 

Yes.  

Did I tell him that? 

I'm alive so what does that tell you. 

“Hey Andy, good morning!” Leia chirped.  She had always been a ball of sunshine and it was something that I loved about her. Except, wait, how did she get into my townhome? 

“I say this with love, Leia, but what are you doing here? And how did you get into my house?” 

She flashed me that goddam smile that makes me give her whatever hell she wants. “Mike called.” 

Sadly, that's enough of an explanation. 

“Where's lover boy? I thought you guys were attached at the hip?” I poured myself a cup of water, drained it with two ibuprofen and then moved on to coffee. 

“Bret is on a business trip right now. He'll be back on Friday.”   

Bret.  Blah, the man was a waste of space in mine and Luke’s opinion.  He’s a stockbroker for some Fortune 500 company. When Leia started dating him, he was the epitome of douche bag. For the last year, Leia had subtly changed.  She used to be a free spirit, dressed however she wanted.  But Bret wanted a sophisticated partner that was like the other wives of brokers in his company.  He would spend money to upgrade her wardrobe and then they bought a house together six months ago.  I hated that. Even when I was with Fiona, I knew Leia deserved better. But she’s happy, and that’s all I can ask for.  

“Was he even at my wedding? Or as I call it the implosion of my life?” 

Leia came over and wrapped her arm around me and put her head on my shoulder. “He was there. He told me to tell you how was and sorry that Fiona was a complete bitch.” 

“He did not say that.” 

“Ok, fine, it was me but that's because it’s the truth.” Leia smiled at me sadly. “I’m so sorry, Andy.” 

“Thanks, Leia.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I guess I'm just glad I found out before I married her.” 

“She's an idiot Andy. I mean who in their right mind ditch a man like you?” 

This really wasn't the time to get a semi. Her compliment is doing things to me.

“Please don't tell me she did it because I neglected her or drove her into another man's arms? I mean I know I’ve been busy but I was trying to secure our future, you know?” Fuck, did I screw this up? I was working to be named captain this upcoming season.  The Bruins made that announcement a couple of weeks ago.  It had been awesome at the time but was it tainted now? 

“I don’t know. She’s been with you for like three years. She knows what it's like to be a WAG. She’s a fucking idiot Andy.” She moved to rub my back. 

I looked around my townhouse. “I have to move out of this place because I have a new home. That she wanted. Fuck,” I dropped my head onto the kitchen counter with a thud. “Ow.”  

Leia chose at that moment to let out a series of adorable giggles, her second-choice weapon in her arsenal. “Feel better?” 

“No,” I mumble. 

She came over and kissed my forehead. “Everything is going to be ok. You are the captain this year. Your best friends are right beside you. And we'll always be by your side.” 

I looked up at her. “Promise?” I held out my pinkie, something the three of us have done since we were kids. She took it with her own. 

“Promise.” 

“Fuck, who turned on the brightness?” Luke wandered into the kitchen. He took a seat next to me and lowered his head into his arms. “I’m never drinking with you again Barber.” 

“I didn’t say you had to match me drink for drink Andrews.” I looked around, searching for his girlfriend. I vaguely remember her coming with him to the bar. “Where is Miranda?” 

“She’s sleeping.  I tried to wake her, but she said she’s not getting up unless I can promise pancakes and bacon in bed.”  Luke looked at his sister.  “I love you.”  

Leia rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, yeah.  I’m doing this because I need to make sure you guys were ok. I gotta get back home for a meeting.” 

I smiled at her. “You’re the best Leia.” 

“And don’t you forget it.” 

After the banging in my head subsided, I went to the new house. I needed to make this place my own. Fuck whatever Fiona wanted. I would make this the home of my dreams, not hers. As I walked up to the front, I saw someone sitting on the stoop. “The fuck are you doing here?” The nerve of this guy showing up to my house. 

Craig stood up. “I just want a minute to explain.” 

“Explain what? How you "accidentally" slept with my fiancé or how you were trying to convince her to leave me?” I raged. This fucker has balls, I'll give him that. 

“Andy, it’s not like that. I'm in love with her. I have been for a long time.”  

“You slept with her once and all of a sudden, you've been in love with her for forever? Bull shit man.” 

“It wasn't just once,” he said quietly.  

I stopped. “Wanna run that by me again?” I must have not heard him clearly 

“It wasn't just the once. We've been seeing each other for the last year.” 

We all heard that right? 

“You've got to be kidding me! You've been fucking my fiancé for the last year?” I don't even let him respond. I deck him across the chin and drop him to the floor. Lucky for him, Luke shows up just when I go to hit him again. 

“Andy! Stop! He's not worth it.” Luke grabs my arm and pulls me back. Another set of hands takes mine. I look back and see Leia and I calm a little under her touch. 

“I fucking hate you! You were one of my best friends and you did this to me. Fuck you! You're dead to me!” 

“We are on the same team Andy!” Craig argues. “I’m sorry but I love her, and we didn’t mean for this to happen.” 

“I don't give a shit. She was mine and you fucked me over. I'll work with you on the ice, but I never want to speak to you or look at you outside of the arena ever again! Go back to your bitch and tell her I'll send her shit to her mother's.” Luke pushes Craig away from me and down the drive. I turned away and Leigh wrapped her arms around me, and I buried my head in her neck, sobbing into her. “Why?” I asked her. 

“I don't know Andy but I'm right here.” She rubbed my back as Luke dealt with Craig. “Let it out, I've got you.” 

This was supposed to be my year. I had the captaincy, I had a championship caliber team and a fiancé that I thought loved me.  

This was supposed to be my year.  

Now I know what it's like to get screwed over with my pants on. 

Life is funny like that. 

NEXT

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@sunnyhummingbee

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@peaceinourtime82

@saucy-sassy-sparkly

@kmc1989

#andy's shenanigans #andy's hea #cross checked #found family #pregnancy #best friends are idiots #best friends to lovers #brothers best friend #best friends sister #hockey au #idiots in love #andy barber fiction #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber au #chris evans fanfiction #NHL au #boston bruins au #andy barber fanfic #andy barber x ofc #andy barber