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abtrusion · 1 month

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Tranny Tango

There's a man on the sidewalk, looking over, then up to see me walking past. He stops in his tracks and stutters back and forth, his read || reaction to me flickering between upstart woman // taller man || hold ground // make space, glitching him in place. When I step off the sidewalk and into the grass, he sheepishly passes me by without a word.

I'm interested in the everyday glitches, the double-takes, the way "everybody is just a little bit disgusted by you," what Susan Stryker calls 'monstrosity' and more than that, the casual experience of being a gaping hole in the gendered world. Stryker attributes this monstrosity to the idea that medical transsexuality, more than any other form of transgenderism, "represents the prospect of destabilizing the foundational presupposition of fixed genders." She takes anti-trans feminists at their word, assuming that their hate stems from some abstract gender trouble that transsexuals pose to female spaces, and her solution is a near-complete identification with that trouble. We can do better. This monstrosity, this glitching, is not just a downstream consequence of spectacular interruptions to some abstract 'fixed genders.' It is certainly not dependent on some unique threat posed by medicalization. It exists through instinctive disgust and constant little glitches in the social infrastructure that is gender, an uneasy response to an uncanny bricolage of the building blocks of gendered life.

Escaping the Cisgender Gaze

The classic trans encounter is to see a visibly transfeminine person out on the street, or as an escort, or in some carefully-curated performance piece, and to realize that gender is a lie. This is part of the utility of transmisogyny, which renders people both constantly accessible and utterly exemplary, and in turn this casts transmisogyny itself as spectacular exclusion instead of a slow social and economic death that sometimes spikes, particularly with multiply marginalized subjects, into horrific violence.

This singularization of transfeminine life and oppression (particularly with trans women of color) through suicide and murder statistics renders both trans life and pain spectacular and implicitly places one as a 'natural' consequence of the other. We need to seriously inspect the many interactions between non-passing transfem people and cis people which do not end with one of them dead. One way to start is Sandra Lee Bartky's understanding of hegemonic femininity as a disciplinary practice.

Femininity as Disciplinary Practice

As the lesbian separatists of the 1970s and 80s intensified the work of rooting out patriarchy from their spaces, they began to discover that nothing was sacred: nearly all everyday social activities were shaped by gender. As Bartky argues, the 'imposition of such discipline on female identity' influences every second of every day:

Iris Young observes that a space seems to surround women in imagination that they are hesitant to move beyond: this manifests itself both in a reluctance to reach, stretch, and extend the body to meet resistances of matter in motion—as in sport or in the performance of physical tasks—and in a typically constricted posture and general style of movement. In an extraordinary series of over two thousand photographs, many candid shots taken in the street, the German photographer Marianne Wex has documented differences in typical masculine and feminine body posture. Women sit waiting for trains with arms close to the body, hands folded together in their laps, toes pointing straight ahead or turned inward, and legs pressed together. The women in these photographs make themselves small and narrow, harmless; they seem tense; they take up little space. Men, on the other hand, expand into the available space; they sit with legs far apart and arms flung out at some distance from the body. Most common in these sitting male figures is what Wex calls the “proffering position”: the men sit with legs thrown wide apart, crotch visible, feet pointing outward, often with an arm and a casually dangling hand resting comfortably on an open, spread thigh. …in a way that normally goes unnoticed, males in couples may literally steer a woman everywhere she goes: down the street, around corners, into elevators, through doorways, into her chair at the dinner table, around the dance floor. The man’s movement “is not necessarily heavy and pushy or physical in an ugly way; it is light and gentle but firm in the way of the most confident equestrians with the best trained horses.”

Bartky concludes that, between behavior and makeup and skin-care, these disciplinary practices "produce a 'practiced and subjected' body, that is, a body on which an inferior status has been inscribed,” and that "the practices that construct this body have an overt aim and character far removed, indeed, radically distinct, from their covert function;" that is, she claims that gender is everywhere, that it is power, and that cisgender women are structurally made unaware of this connection.

What does this mean for transfeminine experience? First, as seen in the sidewalk example we started with (so chosen precisely because of how fucking boring it is), the abstract 'genderfuck' of transfeminine existence congeals into actual examples in the context of gender-as-infrastructure. Gender is a crossing-guard, a gatekeeper, a reviewer -- it performs social functions, all the time, which glitch and shake in our presence. Transmisogyny is not necessarily vitriolic rage at 'boundary-breakers,' it can also just be the passive exclusion of a person whose existence causes a few too many little frictions.

As we've noted, the singularization of transfeminine life makes non-spectacular trans life impossible for cis people to understand, leading to a constant current of disgust/disdain that accompanies their more exciting bouts of transmisogyny. One major inlet to this current is social friction, the way that non-passing transfems are structurally prevented from using social/visual gender infrastructures to do everyday things. The second inlet, which I will discuss in the next section, is the unease provoked by the negotiations transfems take to navigate gendered systems despite this breakage, making small corrections which are ignored, must be ignored, leaving only the horrible lingering fear that they're better at this gender thing than you.

Gender work

Because transfemininity makes no sense from a vulgar gender-power perspective, cis people generally view transfeminine people as either unwitting 'dupes' of gender or as spectacular hyper-aware gender predators, as seen across the HSTS/AGP split, the dead tranny/serial killer media split, the 'scheming eunuch' archetype, and the binarization of transfem identity in queer spaces. But because cis people also generally want to assume that they're talking to someone that isn't an evil serial manipulator, personal interactions encourage and enforce the good tranny archetype, which demands absolute suppression of any sort of informed gender negotiation. This archetype is impossible to fulfill because of the systematic failure of social gender-power infrastructure to account for transfeminine people, which demands some degree of semi-intentional gender work to fill in the gaps.

Fortunately, this work will basically never be understood as such by well-meaning cis people because of transmisogyny, so you don't have to be /super/ subtle about it. Unfortunately, ignoring this transfeminine gender work takes a lot of effort on the part of cis people, particularly if they also have had to perform reparative gender work because of trans-adjacent conditions (divorce, infertility, lesbianism, PCOS). The invisible work cis people must make to keep themselves separate from transfeminine people is then associated with our presence, most clearly articulated in Janice Raymond's lament that transsexual lesbians are feeding "off woman’s true energy source, i.e., her woman-identified self" -- our proximity alone demands intense effort to keep cis gender negotiations distinct from trans ones, growing frustrations that feed the slow current of transmisogyny.

Even if a cis person successfully suppresses their understanding of transfeminine gender work, for folks within queer & women's spaces, this itself leads to a horrible looming anxiety because people in these spaces usually pride themselves on having a full consciousness of gender, and we're a pretty notable exception to that. These anxieties are then channeled into a constant fear of the bad tranny, manifested in the horrible trans woman that your cis queer initiators will tell you to stay far away from. But there is really not much of a difference between the shadowy machinations of the bad tranny and the gender work transfeminine people have to constantly perform to even exist within queer spaces, so transfeminine people are rendered constantly precarious.

What's so deliciously ironic about all this is that this is just a shallow repetition of the cis man // cis woman dyad! Archetypes like 'the poisoner witch' or 'the gossip' or 'the slut' have always been used as a reaction to negotiating power gained via the kitchen, or cloistered social activity, or sex, all routes that men could never understand as a direct consequence of their own gendered power -- so in response to this fear, these roles pilloried exemplary women to structurally terrify the population, but just as importantly to exonerate the rest of the female population, to let men pretend that these weren't tools that everyone was using, to pretend that heterosexual relationships were pure! Just as transfems serve the role of gay best friend^2 in gay mens' films, they serve the role of women^2 in queer spaces, constantly performing gender work which is simultaneously unknowable and terrifying to the cis majority, forcing periodic purges to pick out 'the bad ones' which temporarily exonerate the rest, letting the majority believe that the 'good tranny' actually exists: that mythical trans woman who is not semi-intentionally managing their gender presentation around you, the one you can fuck without worrying if she's just faking it, the one who is good and pure and radical and really, really boring. I have never met a non-passing trans woman like this, but I'm sure plenty of queer people have.

Conclusion

So there are two main forms of everyday experience that express and constitute transmisogyny. The first is the social friction inherent in being freak-gendered in a world that relies on gender to make people move and talk and shit correctly. The second is the friction between the gender awareness demanded of transfeminine people (none) and the practical result of transgendered living in the world. If you want to take some of this back to cis womanhood, I've been trying to reframe the marginalized position of womanhood in terms of articulation work -- that while women have always worked, that work has generally been rendered unreal, always carried out with a dream of not existing, turned into stage-setting for the real boys to grow up and come in and be breadwinners. In this context, our components look like 1) do gender work and 2) don't let it show, and the framing of transfeminine people as socially useless outcasts despite their constitutive role in social life via flexible labor starts to sound a lot like the making of a super-woman, like the mujerísima sometimes invoked in Latin American travesti activism. That sounds just about right. I will become a witch of witches, the lurking terror that eats astrologers, always and ever a little bit too real.

#transmisogyny

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herpsandbirds · 2 months

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Can you post your top 5 sex dymorphisms in birds? Some are really funny, like I remember there is a bird whose females are dull green but males are German flag hghhfhjn

Well, to me, some of the most striking sexual dimorphism occurs amongst the birds of paradise, family Paradiseaidae, order Passeriformes, of New Guinea...

Photographs by Tim Laman

Red Bird-of-Paradise (Paradisaea rubra)

Magnificent Bird-of-Paradise (Diphyllodes magnificus)

Twelve-wired Bird-of-Paradise (Seleucidis melanoleucus)

There's also one of my favorite birds...

Painted Bunting (Passerina ciris), female and male, family Cardinalidae, order Passeriformes, LA, USA

photograph by Bonnie Taylor Barry

I also love the dimorphism of birds where the female is actually more colorful...

Moluccan Eclectus Parrot (Eclectus roratus), male and female, family Psittaculidae, order Psittaciformes, native to the Maluku islands of Indonesia

photograph by Papagoi Keskus – Erispapagoi

Greater Painted Snipe (Rostratula benghalensis), male and female, family Rostratulidae, Kenya

photograph by Wim de Groot

#bird #ornithology #animals #nature #africa

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whiskeynwriting · 1 year

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With You Again

König x Female Reader

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Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Established relationship, mentions/descriptions of war, brief mention of guns, references to male and female masturbation, praise kink, size kink, dry humping, oral (f receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, dom!König

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A/N: thank you to @phnyx for helping me round out the edges of this piece <3 and thank you TONS to @xsvenjasophiex for helping me with the German vocab and grammar. I appreciate you endlessly!!

I have been so THIRSTY for this man lately y'all, Jesus. Brb, thinking about him speaking German to me

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König Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

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The mud sticks to his face like thick glue, his body caked in the dirt as he trudges on through. And the relief he seeks is nowhere in sight, not even when he retreats to the trench. He has to duck, to bend at the knees until he’s in the safety of his designated bunker, his team’s barracks. He feels no reprieve, not even when sitting on the wooden bench. The body he’s worked for years to build is exhausted, forced to its limit. And yet, he must go on. Not only for the others, for he is the one they rely so much on, but for you.

And that’s when he glances down at his rifle, resting on the mass of his thigh. His chest is still heaving, heartbeat evening out when he sees it - the picture of you. It’s of course torn and covered in dirt but he wipes it off often enough to still see it. Your sickeningly sweet grin, your gorgeous face, the way you’re laying.

“Meine Welt.” It’s quiet, said through a tired breath. And even though his lids are fluttering, desperate for rest, he focuses on you. You keep him awake, alert, you remind him of what he’s fighting for. (My world)

Out in the field, he looks to you often. And when he has time to rest, he’ll take off his helmet, looking into the inner rim. The same picture of you graces his desperate orbs, delivering him an ounce of peace. This photo doesn’t get torn as often as the one on his gun, and still, it’s not the cleanest copy he has. While he keeps two with him at all times, he keeps the third and most pristine one hidden away.

When he’s clean enough to lie down, stripping himself of his khakis and weapons, he’ll lay his body over the cot he’s been given. But before he allows himself his much needed sleep, he’ll reach under his pillow, searching for that exact same scene. The one he captured on a Sunday morning, the view of you in his bed. Your shared bed.

“Smile, Schatz.” He’d grinned, holding the polaroid camera over you. (Sweetheart)

It was early enough for you to still be waking up, your hair a complete mess with the blankets crumpled around the bed. But he thought it was adorable, the sight of you. The morning sun shone around your sleepy form in the most elegant of ways, even though all you had on was his oversized shirt. You smirked up at your enormous lover, offering a flirty grin. And the longer he looked at it, the more he saw your nipples rising beneath the fabric of his shirt, the hem of your panties peeking out along your thigh. This photograph was all he needed. When he couldn’t calm his mind, this is what he turned to. And when his arousal ran high, it offered him release.

What you’ll find in his innermost parts, is emotion, emotion that ran wild like the river and raged like the sea. He longed for you, in the purest of ways. His devotion to your well-being was unlike anything he’s ever experienced. And daily was the occurrence of his words floating across a secret page.

I miss you, every day. And every day only serves to prove that I am living my life away from you.

It tore him to pieces, being gone for so long. He wonders about how lonely you must feel, going about your day-to-day activities with no one but yourself. How big the house must feel, with only you in it. But when he’s home, he fills it completely. Not just with his physicality but with his emotional presence.

“König,” You practically sob into his shoulder, holding onto him. The way your hearts pound for each other, the way your body releases all its tension when you’ve been reunited, are two sensations you positively yearn for.

“Mein Mädchen,” He coos, repeatedly rubbing his hand up and down your back. “I’m home.” (My girl)

It’s the pose you always fall into, your signature snuggle - him on the couch with his legs spread, and you cuddled onto his lap. You’re straddling him, arms wrapping around his neck while you press your covered front to his.

“How have you been?” He asks gently, his voice soft. And when you lift your head, he cups your face, thumb sweeping over your skin. “Ich mache mir Sorgen um dich.” (I worry about you)

“Why?” Brow furrowing, you tilt your head, resting in his large palm.

“You are meine Welt, my everything.” He explains, his eyes full of emotion as he says it. “You are my peace, and thinking of you alone in this house brings me pain.” With a heavy sigh, he brushes his thumb over your cheek once again. “And I have enough pain.” (My world)

Cuddling into you, he releases another breath, feeling you cradle his head against your chest. “I am just fine, mein Liebling.” The softness of your hand runs down the back of his head, still covered. “And even better now that you’re back.” (My darling)

You’re everything he could ever need. With you, his woes from war are gone. With you, he feels human again.

With the amount of ease you put him in, it’s not long before you’re lifting that hood, putting your lips on him. Usually, it would be alarming, someone lifting his mask. But for you, he’d do anything. And yet, you still haven’t seen him without it. You respect him too much to do that.

His lips find yours again and again, searching for the love they’ve been neglected. It’s sloppy, lazy, the two of you taking time to just enjoy it. Your tongues slide along the other’s in a rhythm only the two of you know, the actions entirely unhurried. Neither of you are rushing this - you’re finally receiving the time you’ve been missing.

“Baby,” As soon as he does it, you’re pressing against him, against the firmness of his chest and abdomen. He knows how much you love his body heat, forgoing his shirt quite quickly.

Shifting your hips over his, he groans, searching for your mouth again. You’re partially under that dark hood, devouring the moans coming from his lips. And then you’re dragging yourself over him, repeatedly grinding down onto his steadily rising erection. Easily, those incredibly large hands find your hips, guiding your movements and urging you to apply more pressure, to move a little faster.

“Your beautiful body… it already feels so good against me…” His accent is thick, hungry.

“I love how you sound,” You breathe out in return, sighing. “When you whimper…”

One muscular arm wraps around your lower back, sneaking beneath your shirt so he can feel your skin. He can’t help the noises he makes, he’s unable to keep himself at bay whenever he’s with you. You’re all that’s been in his head for weeks on end.

“So needy,” He grunts out, thrusting upward between your legs. “As soon as you see me…” Ducking his head down, he finds your neck, holding onto your waist while you rub yourself over him. And his words prompt a certain heat to run up your neck and to your cheeks, filled with a sense of aroused embarrassment from his teasing.

Turning your head, you try to hide your face in the crook of his neck, whimpering. But he sees, and he doesn’t like it.

“No, don’t hide from me. Don’t hide that pretty face - mein Gott, so fucking cute. I want to see that look when I touch you.” (My god)

“König,” Another whine, fingers clinging to him. He’s throbbing between your legs, constantly rubbing himself up against you.

“Look at me, pretty thing.” He demands, though his words are spoken softly, passionately. And he says it so sweetly that you almost can’t disobey him. “There you go,” Comes that genuine praise, his voice growing breathy and ragged. “Good girl.”

Lifting his hand to the back of your neck, he stares into your eyes, flicking back and forth between them. Shaking his head gently, he breathes out in awe, “Beautiful thing.”

It’s easy to enjoy it, the taste of his mouth and natural scent, the overall sensation of him. And while he finds incredible pleasure in the feeling of you grinding against him, your gorgeous mouth meeting with his, he wants more.

“I need to feel you.” König whines against your lips.

Carrying you with him is easy, you don’t even have to move. All he does is stand, holding onto your thighs while you hold onto him. And in a half a dozen strides, you’re in the bedroom, being laid down by your love.

Even quicker than you, he removes your clothing, immediately laying himself out between your thighs to hover above your body. Your surroundings are barely lit, but he doesn’t need much to see the beauty of you. He traces your body with his hands, the curves more familiar to him than his own breath. And immediately, he’s finding your chest, massaging the softness of your breasts before taking your nipple into his mouth.

“I’ve missed these…” He mumbles over you, hot breath soaking into your skin.

His tongue slides effortlessly across your body, humming happily when your legs lift to the sides of his torso. Already, you’re grinding up against him, wanting that same friction you’d made on the couch.

“My small doll,” König grins, sliding the bulk of his body down your stomach, crawling between your thighs and settling above your center.

Calloused palms and worn fingers caress your thighs in the gentlest ways he knows how. You’re so soft, so tiny and delicate. He treats you like glass, like if he moved you wrong, you’d break. But he’d never break you.

“I’ve dreamt of this… of licking you again. Süße, I’d do it for the rest of my life.” He’s mumbling just above your sex, the words barely having time to come out before he’s attaching his mouth to you. (Sweetheart)

Immediately, your back arches for him, nails digging into the muscles beneath his skin, clawing at his shoulders. He’s sucking your lips into his mouth, slurping on the wetness he’s already coaxed out of you. Pushing his tongue inside, he licks into you deeply, moaning when you suffocate him with your thighs.

“Baby, baby.” Gasping, you shove your hips up against him, feeling the familiar flick of his tongue over the quivering peak of your sex.

But he doesn’t move, doesn’t speed up or slow down, he just continues. His eyes roll back from it, from the way your hips shift against him and the way you taste.

“Entspann dich, meine Engel.” He’s gasping, staring down at your glistening lips. “Let go for me…” And then he’s burying himself into you again, stuffing his tongue into your center while his nose rubs against your clit. (Calm yourself, my angel)

He can see the way your chest heaves, can hear the way your lungs tremble when you breathe. And he wants to feel it, god, he wants to taste it.

“König,” And then he’s moaning into you, feeling it rush onto his tongue.

His taste buds tingle with it, your release, repeatedly lapping at your sensitive center. Your thighs shake from it, jerking against his head while he holds you, strong hands keeping you in place for him.

“Perfect,” That deep voice groans, kissing your lower stomach. “Perfect…”

Lifting himself, you witness his biceps flex, the muscles in his chest tensing as his face returns to the smooth slope of your shoulder. You welcome him in, arms looping around his neck before he lifts his head, wet lips and chin pressing into your cheek as he says, “Doing just what I ask of you.” And then a sloppy kiss pressing into your skin, your cheeks plumping from his praise.

“Are you ready for me?” But he’s already grabbing himself, the tip of his dick kissing your clit before he rubs it over your wetness. “My, my… how wet you are… can you hear it, Süße?” He’s pressing his nose into your cheek, grinning. (Sweetheart)

“Mhm,” It’s forced out from your throat, a mewl, followed by a forceful gasp.

He’s pushing into you, the intrusion of him thicker than you remember. The searing heat from his skin spreads throughout your body, his chest pressing down into your own as he explores deeper.

“Deep breaths, my love.” Yet he’s struggling to steady his own. “That’s it, keep your eyes on me.” And this makes him so happy. “That’s so good, Liebling, precious thing…” (Darling)

Staring into his eyes, you wince, jaw dropping as he delves inside. It’s slow, gradual, because he knows if he goes any faster, this will be too quick of an endeavor.

Dipping his head down, he sighs out in awe. “Look at that, look how you open up for me. Oh, Süße, I’ve been dreaming of it since I left.” (Sweetheart)

“I’ve missed you, meine Kriegerin.” And that phrase forces a shiver through him. (My warrior)

“Oh, you were meant for it.” He grunts, finally thrusting into you with a desperate huff. “Meant to take me, to feel me deep inside… stretching you to fit. That’s it, keep breathing for me…”

But still, he’s not moving fast enough for you. It’s so slow that it’s agonizing, feeling the lazy drag of his veins against your walls, still sensitive from your first high. And it brings him great pride in knowing he gave you that gift so quickly. He’s hoping to give it to you again.

Feeling timid, you turn your head, hiding your face in the sheets. “P-Please.” But he just grins, coming down to grab your jaw, pulling your face back toward him.

“My cute little doll…” Your soldier muses, voice deep, sultry. “Say it again.” He’s addicted to it, addicted to the sounds you make when you’re taking it deep just the way he likes it.

His stare is possessive, dominant, insistent. And you give in. “Please.”

Just like that, he’s snapping his hips into your pelvis, and with every ounce of strength he has. It almost paralyzes you, the overstimulation of it all. His tongue on your neck, his body pressing you into the bed, his tip punching against your cervix.

Sliding his hand forward, König’s fingers intertwine with your own. He drags it up along the bed, holding it above your head. The groans coming from his chest rumble across your own, your head thrown back as you experience him. Jesus, you’ve missed this, you’ve prayed for this, to be in his arms again. Naturally, you cling to him, holding him as if he’ll never leave again. And you wish it was the truth.

“L-Liebling,” König grunts, feeling your nails dig into his back. He’s buried himself inside you, all the way to the hilt. “You’re squeezing around me so, so tightly.” His accent is thick, eyes closed as he attempts to even out his breaths. (Darling)

“I want it again.” Groaning, he shoves himself into you again, listening to the wet squelch of it. “Let me feel it, sweetling.”

“Please, make me. Make me, baby.”

Tilting your hips upward, you meet his thrusts. You’re squeezing his hand, feeling comforted by both his palm and the presence of his face in your neck. His muscular thighs flex against your legs, chest heaving above you as he feels you tremble. And the act of you clutching his hand, the sensation of you quivering around him, is making him lose his goddamn mind.

Your soft sobs provoke a small growl from his lips, his pelvis snapping against your sex. He’s throbbing inside you, scrotum drawing up tightly to his body as he begs for your release.

“König,” You wail, only to be met with, “Take it.”

What started out as innocently sweet has turned into ardent arousal, your body being ravaged by this hulk of a man. You’re his to claim, his to lay and spend every day with. And when he’s done wringing your body dry of pleasure, he’ll be there to coddle you, too.

Your body reacts so openly to him, whether or not he’s actively touching you. It’s all too easy for you to welcome him, your limbs wrapping around every inch of his body. The mere thought of your lover was enough to make your hands wander, your thoughts running wild in your head. Inhaling a sharp breath, you sigh, sliding your hand between your legs as you think of him.

But the sharp shrill of your phone shocks you back to reality, eyes blowing wide as your head snaps to the side. Immediately, you reach for it, heart lighting up with affection when you see who it is.

“König?” Your voice is eager, wanting.

“Meine Engel,” Comes that rough, sweet voice. “I am on my way.” (My angel)

Inside, your chest swells with emotion, head lolling back as you release a satisfied sigh. And on the other end of the phone, he hears you sniffle, smiling sincerely beneath the cover of his hood.

“I know, sweetling.” He coos, picturing your pretty face. “I’ll be there, I’ll be with you again soon.”

#Konig #my big man #I love you endlessly #pls call me your angel again #Konig cod #Konig cod mw2 #Konig x you #Konig x reader #Konig x female reader #Konig smut #cod smut #cod fanfiction

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lamaery · 5 months

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100 Portraits Training | Part 1 In autumn 2021 I started a series of practice portraits to get a better feel for different kinds of facial features. I wanted to get better at drawing people of colour of all kinds and variations and also at different variations of skin colours. My plan was to do a more fully rendered image from reference and then try to draw it a second time in a more simplified comic style to find the essences of what gave each face its own characteristics. The series didn't progress continuously (I hope to finally do 92 to 100 until the end of the year) and, as you will see, went very obviously through my reference folder for various Stormlight Archive characters :D This first page is still a vague starting point it features:

1) Brenda Myers-Powell from the documentary Dreamcatcher which follows her work of assisting sex-workers in Chicago

2) Iranian actress Shohreh Aghdashloo in the role of Chrisjen Avasarala in The Expanse

3) East Asian female presenting model from a fashion photography on Behance…

4) The incredibly fashionable Billy Porter

5) A young woman that was interviewed for German documentary series in an episode about Uzbekistan. Sadly I could not find out retrospectively which ethnic group she is part of, since I could not find the episode online.

6) Chinese-American actress Ming-Na Wen as Melinda Quiaolian May from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

7) Kavinthida, a young woman from Thailand that appears in the series of portraits at the airport by Mustafa Çankaya, a photographer from Istanbul (link to the series , Kavathinda is number 8) Also on the side I tried to collect links and articles that discuss representation of PoC in media in a broader scope. I might share some of these in case other people find them interesting, too. If you have any good sources, please add them in the comments, reblog or tags :D Hmm, let's start with this wonderful and extensive article about understanding how to light and paint darker skintones ------------------ Part 2 – Kaladin Part 3 & 4 – Adolin and Renarin Part 5 – Dalinar Part 6 & 7 – Shallan and Jasnah Part 8 & 9 - various people and skin tones Part 10 – a little bit for The Lopen Part 11 & 12 - Wit and Navani Part 13 - ofmd und Dev Patel :) Part 14 - more ofmd and Patel

#art practice #portraits #procreate #sketches #art challenge #art advice

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beautiesofbygoneeras · 2 months

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Rasa Von Werder (also known as Kellie Everts; born Rasa Sofija Jakstas, July 16, 1945) is a German author, former stripper, naturist, female bodybuilder, photographer, evangelist, mystic and founder of a church.

#rasa von werder #kellie everts #1960s #outdoors #pool #water #eroticpics #naturist #frontal #full nude #beautiful bush #raised arms #armpits #closed eyes

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theaskew · 2 months

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Karin Székessy (German 1939-2010), Treppe (à Marcel Duchamps) (Staircase [à Marcel Duchamps]) 2015.

#photography #photographic arts #modern photography #contemporary photography #German photography #German photographer #female German photographer #Karin Székessy #human figure #female figure #female nude #nude descending a staircase #Marcel Duchamps

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yourdailyqueer · 2 months

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Ulrike Ottinger

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Lesbian

DOB: 6 June 1942

Ethnicity: White - German

Occupation: Photographer, artist, director, screenwriter

#Ulrike Ottinger #lesbianism #wlw #lgbtq #lgbt #female #lesbian #1942 #white #german #photographer #artist #director #screenwriter

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hooked-on-elvis · 1 month

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Elvis Presley (24) is pictured backstage with the Orkowski twins at the Moulin Rouge in Munich, Bavaria, Germany. He was granted a 4-day leave from the army to visit Munich, in two of those days he spent evenings until wee-hours at the Moulin Rouge with friends. His reason to be in Munich was Vera Tschechowa, a young and beautiful German actress. She was with him at the Moulin Rouge on March 4. The photos above were taken by the in-house photographer of the Moulin Rouge, Rudolf Paulini on Wednesday, March 04, 1959.

The very next day, March 05, Elvis went back to the Moulin Rouge with his friends - Vera wasn't with him this time. He is pictured with the Orkowski twins once more, among other female performers and even a few male admirers.

Army Elvis. 1959. Germany.

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis the king #elvis fans #elvis fandom #elvis history #50s elvis #1959 #army elvis #Orkowski twins #vera tschechowa #moulin rouge #munich #germany #50s

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kimsphotoart · 2 years

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ᐘ 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔰 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔟𝔢 𝔱𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔢. 𝔓𝔯𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔰 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔟𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔢𝔡𝔲𝔠𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔩. ℑ𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔩𝔶𝔰𝔦𝔰, 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔰 𝔪𝔢𝔞𝔫 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔩𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔰 𝔴𝔢 𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔞𝔫 𝔢𝔣𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔴𝔯𝔞𝔭 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔭𝔲𝔫𝔶 𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢𝔰, 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔱𝔶-𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔬𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔫 𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔶 𝔡𝔦𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔱. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔫 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔦𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔢. 𝔈𝔵𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰. 𝔍𝔲𝔡𝔤𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔟𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪. ᐒ⟢

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tierneysodegaard · 2 years

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Thin Walls - Sebastian Vettel x reader

Sebastian Vettel x female!reader

Requested? Yes/No

Anon: Was wondering if I could put in a request for a Red Bull era Seb fic / oneshot? Maybe something along the lines of working for Red Bull since Seb joined, and the beginning of the 2013 season, Mark Webber finds out that Seb has always had a massive thing for you. Mark then decides to start flirting with you to make Seb jealous. Seb gets back at Mark by enacting Multi-21, and after the race, gets the ultimate payback by getting you to come back to his thin-walled hotel room, which is the room right next to Mark’s. ;)

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: Angst, smut 18+++, dom! Seb, swearing (wrap it before you tap it kids)

—

Ever since Sebastian Vettel had joined Red Bull you had been working alongside him. Being Red Bull’s main photographer had a lot of benefits including being rather closer with both drivers. You conducted their photoshoots all year round and then followed them like a shadow around the tracks to get the best photos you could. Sure you got on with both boys well but there was always something about Sebastian that made him that little more special, maybe it was because the two of you started your Red Bull journey together or maybe it was because you two could never keep your eyes off one another. Whatever it was Mark Webber sure picked up on it and used it to his advantage.

“You like her,” Mark turned to face Sebastian. The two were sat at a drivers meeting and Mark had caught the German's eyes linger on you just outside the room for a little too long. “Don’t you?”

“Who?” Seb snapped his head back to meet the gaze of his teammate. “y/n? No.”

“I didn’t even mention her name.” Leaning back in his chair he smirked back at Seb. “So you do like her?”

“We’re friends, we get along well, joined at the same time so I do like her -”

“No you don’t just like her like a friend, I’ve seen the way you undress her with your eyes. You’ve got a thing for her.”

“Maybe you should keep out of my business.” He spat.

“Your business? I think it’s our business Vettel, I’ll have her hanging off my arm before this season is over and you’ll just have to watch.” Mark’s smug grin grew. He knew that he was going to piss Seb off, maybe then he’ll actually instigate his feelings towards you rather than just stare at you all day.

Sebastian ignored his words as he waited for the meeting to start. His eyes flickered over to you one last time before you disappeared with a few other Red Bull workers. He couldn't get what Mark said out of his mind he thought maybe after he slept he’d forget about what his teammate had said but he was far from wrong.

Over the next few months, Mark stayed true to his words and did everything in his power to make Sebastian jealous. He would let his touch on your skin linger a little too long after a hug or if he needed to get past he’d no longer ask you he’d just place his hands on your hips and move your body. When everyone had a party after the win he’d make sure to have his hands all over you when you were dancing, even when you tried and pulled away he’d pull you back into his arms and whisper something in your ear to make you forget ever wanting to leave.

Every action Mark went of his way to do pissed Seb off immensely. He wanted nothing more than to rip Mark away from you and show you who could make you feel better than any man ever has and today was no exception.

“Seb!” You caught sight of the driver walking through the paddocks. He turned back to look at you, a wide smile spreading across his face when he saw you. “Nervous for the race?” You asked, walking beside him as he placed his arm around you.

“Never.” It was the Malaysian Grand Prix and Sebastian was starting from pole. “Plan to win this with a decent gap.”

“Very confident Vettel.” You smiled up at him.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” He replied.

“Because Mark is extremely confident that he’s going to win it today.”

Seb rolled his eyes at the mention of Mark, something you’d noticed ever since Seb joined. For the first few weeks, everything seemed fine between them but occasionally you’d pick up on the odd petty argument or the glares the pair of them would give one another. You always put it down to classic teammate rivalry but maybe there was something more.

“What was that for?” You eyed Seb for his reaction to his words.

“What was what for?”

“That eye roll.”

“He just always thinks he can win.”

“I’m no driver but isn’t that the mentality you’re supposed to have?”

“To an extent. He’s just too cocky with it.”

“And you’re not?”

“I’m not as bad as him.”

“Nope.” His eyes met yours as you spoke again. “You’re worse.”

Seb smiled at your teasing as the pair of you continued to walk towards the garages. “Least I’m better than him at something.”

“Well don’t tell him but I think you’re the better driver.”

Sebastian had a smug look on his face after you spoke. “Oh, why not? He always tells me you prefer him so I may as well set him straight.”

“You two better keep your petty arguments in place otherwise it’ll only escalate and I’d rather you not do something stupid on the track and get yourselves both killed.”

“I’ll be fine, can’t promise anything for Mark.” He winked as you reached the Red Bull garage.

“Good luck today Seb.” You sunk into his touch, hugging him. “Please be careful.”

“I will be.” He gave you one last longing gaze before the two of you parted ways. You couldn’t deny that Seb was attractive. His eyes always seemed to make you melt and the light touches he placed on your skin always sent jolts of electricity through your skin.

You headed off to meet your team of photographers, everyone putting on their vests to display that you were a photographer and are allowed to stand by the track for photos. After discussing with your small team where everyone would be stationed for the race you were met with a familiar voice.

“You weren’t going to run off without wishing me luck, were you?” Spinning around you met the cocky gaze of Mark Webber. He held his arms out, silently asking for a hug which you happily complied with.

“I would never.” You hugged him and pulled away rather fast, something Vettel picked up on as he watched you two from afar. “Good luck today.”

“Thank you.” The man grinned like the Cheshire cat. “Think I’ve got this in the bag.”

“We’ll see.”

Sebastian couldn’t help but suppress a laugh when he saw how fast you attempted to leave the conversation compared to him. However, that smile on his face didn’t last long when he watched Webber’s next move. The man snuck his arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest before planting a kiss on your forehead. Mark stepped back and winked your way.

“Meet me when it’s all over, we’ll celebrate my win together.”

The man left you standing alone and rather confused by his words and actions. Sure you had flirted with him before but it was nothing more than that, you’d even flirted with Seb before, many of times in fact and he had never made a move like that before. Maybe Seb was right, maybe he was too cocky.

Seb had watched everything and if he wasn’t pissed off before he certainly was now. With gritted teeth, he glared your way just as he put his helmet on. You caught sight of his reaction but it was too late to say anything to him now. Huffing you plodded off to your station with your camera, waiting for the race to start.

Although Seb was on pole it was Mark who was leading the race. You never showed your bias whilst working for Red Bull but today you really wanted Seb to win, maybe then it would shut Mark up. You didn’t hate Mark but today it was clear why he spent those months flirting with you, it was just a childish game and a game he took too far. You didn’t like Mark like that so you certainly weren’t upset about that, it was more his endless teasing towards Seb that annoyed you.

You always listened to the commentary whilst you were taking photos and right now Christian was calm, both drivers were in P1 and P2 so things were going well until Sebastian started gaining and got closer to his teammate.

“Hold station behind Webber.” You could hear what was being said at the pit wall and you knew Sebastian wasn’t going to comply with those requests.

“Don’t be stupid Seb.” You muttered as you worked, your heart in your throat as you watched the two Red Bulls.

With thirteen laps to go Seb was close enough to attack Mark despite being told to lay off.

“This is silly Seb, come on.” You heard the familiar sound of Christian Horner.

“Yep, that’s good teamwork!” Mark spat into the radio, clearly pissed as Sebastian continued his attack.

“Ok Mark he was told, he was told!”

Time ran slowly as the two battled it out and eventually Sebastian got past. A sigh of relief left your lips knowing that the two weren’t stupid enough to cause a crash.

“Sebastian!” The Pit wall could be heard yelling at the German.

“I was really scared, main straight all of a sudden he was moving and I had to leave the line. To repeat, I had to get over the line.” Mark complained which earnt him an eye roll from you.

“Grow up Mark this is motor racing, not ballet…” Your words gained a few laughs from your colleagues.

Ethan one of your colleagues spoke as you focused back on your work. “It’s clear you have a favourite.”

“Maybe after tonight, I will.” You muttered back.

Sebastian went on to win the race much to your delight. “Good job Sebastian. Good job, it looked like you wanted it bad enough. Still… there will be some explaining to do.” Suddenly the pit wall was full of praise, only pissing you off even more as you got the green light to head back to the garages now the track was clear.

“Look a bit stressed there Horner!” You called out to Christain as you discarded your vest and joined the rest of the team.

“Those two are going to give me a heart attack.” He huffed. “Idiots.”

“You have to admit, Seb was faster.”

“He needs to listen to team orders -”

“And the team needs to listen to him. If he’s faster, which he was, and he gains enough speed that he can overtake his teammate and create a gap, which he also did then he should be given that opportunity to do so.”

“But he also needs to learn we work as a team.”

“And the team needs to learn how to spot their faster drivers.” You hit back, a taken-back yet impressed look on Christian's face appeared.

“You ever thought of working on the pit wall?”

“I’m better at capturing the moments rather than ordering that they happen but,” You smirked. “Maybe if the team keeps making mistakes I might have to step in.”

“I’ll keep that in mind y/l/n.”

Your eyes were now focused on the TV screen before you. You watched as Mark snapped at Sebastian but he paid him no mind, for now anyway. On the podium, the two of them shared some sharp words as they stormed off to complete their interviews. You and the rest of the team were waiting for them both. Mark immediately walked over to you, his eyes filled with fury.

“He’s such a twat -”

“He was faster.” You mumbled in reply to the man as he tried to steer you away from the team.

“Faster than me? Only because he pushed me off the track!”

“I got ahead didn’t I?” Sebastian joined in.

“Leave it out you two,” Christian interjected. “Go and do your interviews and we will speak about this later.” Mark knew better than to argue, unlike Seb. The man turned on his heel and headed off to find the press, you attempted to turn away too but Seb grabbed your arm and pulled you into his chest.

“Meet me outside my hotel room. It’s number thirty-eight.” His eyes searched yours for an answer. “Please y/n -”

“Hurry up with your interviews then.” You cut him off, looking up into his eyes before your hand landed on his chest. You looked down at your hand then back up at him. “They’re going to kill you for what happened -”

“I don’t care.”

“You should Seb, you know what this sport is like.”

“Think I’ll be fine.” His cocky grin came onto his face. “I won’t be long, I promise.”

“Don’t fuck up more than you already have.” You gave him a slight smile before turning on your heel and heading towards the hotel.

Mark had watched everything happen. His eyes darted to Christian and the rest of the team before looking back at you. Everyone was fairly distracted giving him the chance to break away and follow after you.

“So what you fancy Vettel now?” Mark yelled, catching your attention.

“Fuck off and go back to your interviews, Mark.” You turned your head to look at him. “I couldn't care less for yours and Seb’s drama.”

Mark had always wanted to piss Seb off and using you was the perfect way to get what he wanted but not like this. Mark just wanted to piss him off to the point where maybe Seb would make a move and he would attempt to get you on his side and Mark would use his charm to win you back but evidently, it had backfired.

To Mark, Sebastian had taken it too far by bringing it onto the track. Mark never liked to lose, especially to his teammate who rather embarrassed him out there and now you were turning on him. He felt humiliated and wanted nothing more than to have you in his bed to prove Sebastian who really was the number one driver at Red Bull.

“Drama? The bloke nearly killed me -”

“Killed you? He didn’t even make contact.” You eyed him. “Besides if you’re as talented as you say you are then surely you could have overtaken him again, right?” He didn’t say anything. “The faster driver one Mark, let it go.”

“Why him all of a sudden?”

“If it was the other way around I’d defend you, doesn’t take a genius to work that out.” You left him to watch you walk off towards the hotel, ignoring his shouts for you to come back.

Seb was right in saying that he wouldn’t be long at the interviews. You’d sat in the hotel reception and watch him being interviewed. His tone had evidently changed when he met the press, probably because he knew Christian wouldn’t let this die easily and didn’t fancy being dragged through the dirt by the reporters. He dragged you to his hotel room when he caught sight of you in the reception and shut the door behind you.

“That was dumb.” You spoke to him as you leaned against the wall whilst he sat at the end of his bed.

“What was?”

“You out there. I agree with you Seb but that could have gone wrong.”

“But it didn’t.”

“But it could have gone wrong,” Seb smirked at the sudden sound of the door of the room beside him slamming shut, more specifically Mark’s room. An idea sprung in his mind as he stalked towards you.

“Maybe you’re right but,” He planted both hands beside your head, looking down at you. “Sometimes you need to take a risk.”

He ducked his head forward, capturing his lips in yours. One hand that was on the wall came down and planted itself on your hips, he added pressure on your skin lightly, a silent signal that you weren’t going anywhere. Your hands trailed up his race suit, tugging on the material slightly as you kissed him back.

The kiss was rough and full of lust and those emotions only grew as he pushed his hips against yours. One of your hands ran up to his hair, tugging on the ends which pulled him deeper into the kiss. He smirked at your neediness as his hips started to grind against yours. Pulling away from the kiss you looked up at him as he breathlessly met your gaze with a smirk.

“What’s that look for?” Your voice was faint.

“You’re so needy…” He moved his head down to place light kisses on your neck, the sensation making you throw your head back against the wall. “All for me…”

“Seb…” You gasped as he bit down on your skin, tugging as his hands lingered at the end of your shirt.

“Can I?” He met your gaze again as he tugged on your shirt, waiting for permission to go further.

“Yes…” He didn’t need to be told twice. In one swift motion, he pulled your shirt up and over your head, discarding your Red Bull uniform on his hotel floor.

“Fuck…” He groaned at the sight of you before him. His hands went straight to your bra, tugging on the lacey material as he started to kiss and nip at your skin. One hand went to your back and unclasped your bra.

“Did you do that with one hand?” You asked as the material fell to the ground.

“Driving isn’t the only thing I’m good at.” His lips met yours again whilst his hands cupped your boobs. He let his fingers play with each nipple before letting his mouth fall and latch onto each one. Sebastian took his time savouring every inch of your skin, smiling to himself at how your body reacted to his touch.

“So beautiful…” He sunk down to his knees before looking up at you, a silent plea for permission. You didn't answer him with words, only actions as you unbuttoned your jeans and allowed Seb to help you out of them before he threw them alongside your shirt.

Running his hands up your thighs he savoured every inch of skin he could see. “Stunning…” He kissed up your thighs, slowly reaching your underwear.

“Seb…”

“Hmm?”

“Stop teasing…”

He let out a light chuckle before looking up at you. “Why?” He kissed you through the thin material of your underwear. “Can you not handle it?”

“More like you won’t be able to handle it…”

“You’re the one complaining.”

“Oh shut up…” You threw your head back as he took your underwear in his teeth and started to drag them down your thighs before they fell to the floor, leaving you naked before him whilst he was still dressed in his race suit.

Sebastian continued to place light kisses and nipped at your skin around where you needed him the most. You whined at his advances, trying your part your legs but his large hands kept them in place. “What’s wrong meine Liebe?” He asked innocently.

“I need you…”

“Do you now?” He nipped at your skin again, earning him a gasp from you.

“Yes…”

“Where?”

“You know where…”

“Do I?”

“Stop being s dick!” You whined at his teasing. If he hadn’t been waiting to have you like this for what felt like decades then he would have continued his teasing but not even he could hold back from you.

“What about here.” Before you could reply Seb spread your legs with just his hands before letting his tongue explore your pussy. The sudden sensation made you moan louder than you had indented to but that didn’t bother the German. He knew Mark was in his room next door and he also knew the walls were paper thin meaning Mark would be able to hear everything.

“Fuck Seb…” You moaned as his mouth attached itself to your clit, sucking and letting his tongue run over the bud before one hand grabbed the back of your thigh and threw it over his shoulder. The same hand steadied you whilst the other started to tease your entrance. “Seb please…”

“Please what?” He hummed against your clit. “Use your words…”

“Fuck me please!” You couldn’t take his teasing for much longer. Sebastian let his finger slide inside of you, working at a steady pace, pumping in and out of you whilst his mouth worked at your clit. You could feel your body tense up at his movements, the feeling of an orgasm slowly approaching you.

“Seb…”

“Yes?” He quickened his pace with every word he spoke.

“I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?” He taunted as he hummed against your clit, only adding more pleasure. “Then scream my name when you cum, I want the whole building to know who can make you feel this good.”

“Yes, fuck!” You threw your head back once more, your hands going to his hair and encouraging his actions.

“Who makes you feel this good?” He moaned around your clit, the vibrations making your high wash over you.

“You do Sebastian, fuck… you… only you…”

Your hips bucked up into his mouth as came but Seb didn't stop, he let his fingers continue to fuck you and allowed his mouth to overstimulate you. Your legs began to shake as you came down but the feeling that Seb had used to make you cum was still going.

“Seb, please… I can’t…” Your hands pulled his mouth away from your clit.

“You can…” He set your leg down, slowly rising up as his fingers went to his mouth, tasting you one last time. “But this time I want to feel you cum around me.” He pulled you to the bed, lightly pushing you onto the soft mattress as he discarded his race suit. He was literally sculpted by the gods themselves.

“You’re staring.” He grinned as he climbed onto the bed, moving your legs apart once again.

“Rather hard not to when you keep all of that hidden under your suit.”

“Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll see more of it then.” He leaned down and took your lips into his again, this time the kiss was sweeter and full of passion with hints of lust as he deepened it. As he continued to kiss you he lined himself up with your entrance. Seb slowly slid himself inside of you, his size filling you up as you broke the kiss, a moan falling from your lips as you gripped the sheets.

Seb stayed stationary inside of you for a few seconds, placing a light kiss on your forehead, waiting for you to confirm that he was okay to move. You nodded against his lips, allowing to pull out entirely before sliding himself back in. He kept his movements slow for now, allowing you to get used to his size.

He took your wrists into his hands, pinning them above your head as he towered over you. The new position allowed him to pick up his pace, quickening his thrusts and adding more pleasure to the pair of you.

“You feel so good…” He groaned as he fucked you harder, pushing you deeper into the mattress with every thrust. Seb then moved your wrists into one hand before letting the other fall to the headboard of the bed, he pushed the wooden frame back so it hit the wall with every thrust. He knew Mark would hear it accompanied by your moans and work out who the real winner of the day was.

“Fuck…” You tried to free yourself from his grasp, desperately wanting to touch him as he went deeper. You let your moans fill the hair as he kept up a fast pace, fucking you in a way you’d never been fucked before.

“Such a good girl for me, moaning so loud for me…” He eventually let go of your wrists and used his now free hand to play with your clit, adding to your pleasure as he went faster, banging on the wall even louder.

“God you feel so good.” You moaned, raking your nails down his back, guaranteed to leave marks that wouldn’t easily fade.

“So do you…” Seb slammed into you harder this time, your hips meeting as he felt your body tense up underneath him. He knew you wouldn’t last long after earlier and neither would he, he’d been waiting too long for this. “Fuck…”

He kept up the pace, the sensation of your nails digging into his skin wasn’t helping him hold back. He leant his head down to your ear, trailing kisses along your neck before speaking. “Are you going to cum for me? Hmm? You going to cum all over my cock?”

“Yes, Seb…”

“Yeah? Say my name when you cum, say it louder this time…”

“Fuck…” His cockiness just made you even wetter. “Please…”

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum…”

“Asking for permission now?” He felt himself twitch inside of you as you tightened around him. “Learning already, good girl…” His rhythm slowed. “Cum love…” You didn’t need to be told twice. Your high washed over you, his name and profanities falling from your lips as you screamed with pleasure.

“Seb… Sebastian, please… I’m gonna… fuck…”

The sound of his name falling from your lips whilst you squirmed around him was enough to make him cum. He fucked you through his high, cumming inside of you. He didn’t pull out immediately, he waited until you both had come down before resting his forehead against yours. With a sweet kiss, he slowly pulled out and threw himself down beside you, catching his breath.

Glancing over at you he held his arms open, allowing you to move and lay against his chest whilst his arms wrapped around you. He smoothed down your hair, praising you as he took in your flustered state.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“I’m fine.” Your eyes met his, a smile tugging on your lips. “Are you?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You know if this is what you’re like when you don’t follow the rules then I encourage you to break them more often.” Seb chuckled at your words, a small kiss found its way to the top of your head.

“Just for you.”

“Better be.” You smiled with him. “You think anyone heard?”

“Mark did.” Seb’s eyes glanced at the wall behind you.

“That’s his room?”

“It is…”

“You little shit, no wonder why you wanted me to say your name -”

“I would have wanted to hear it anyway, it sounds so pretty coming from your lips.”

“Fuck you, Vettel.” You grinned at what he’d planned.

“You just did.”

Mark Webber retired that season. Maybe it was because he and Seb never got on as they used to after that race, or maybe it was because he had to endure you and his teammate fucking after his painful loss, who knows?

One thing you did know was that wasn’t the last time Mark had to hear you and Sebastian fuck.

#sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel x y/n #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel smut #sebastian vettel one shot #sebastian vettel fluff #f1 blurb #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 #sebastian vettel

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